YORKSHIRE

North Riding.—ST MARY’S, YORK: BYLAND: JERVAULX: RIEVAULX: EASBY: WHITBY

East Riding.—SELBY: MEAUX
ST MARY’S, YORK (Mitred Benedictine)

1078, Founded by Alan of Brittany, Earl of Richmond—1088, William II. enlarges Alan’s grant, and builds a large church and dedicates it to St Mary—1137, The church burnt down—1270, Abbey begun to be rebuilt by Abbot Simon of Warwick—1539, Abbot William Dent surrenders abbey to Henry VIII. when it becomes Crown property. Annual revenue, ￡1550, 7s.—1827, Yorkshire Philosophical Society buys the land on which the ruins stand.

SO bound up is the history of this Benedictine abbey with that of York that a brief historical survey of the famous ancient city seems almost imperative. Legendary history attributes the founding of York to Eneas, contemporary of David, King of Israel. If this be true, as the monks certainly believed it to be, York may safely boast of an antiquity as far reaching as any other city in the world. Certain it is that when the Romans took possession of the city in 70 A.D. distinct traces of a previous settlement of Brigantes were to be found. To the Celtic name of Aberac the Romans added the Latin terminal um, calling the city Eburacum. Alcuin, a native of York who lived in the 7th century, ascribes the foundation of York to the Romans.
“Hanc, Romanus manus muris et terribus altam.”
“Fundavit primo.”
“Ut fieret ducibus secura regni.”
“Ut decus imperii terrorque hostilibus armis.”

Ptolemy, the Alexandrian geographer of the 2nd century, writes also of Eburacum as a Roman station, making special mention of its prosperity in trade. The old Brigantine town offered every facility for commerce, the river Ouse affording easy navigation to the principal towns in the north. The military position was practically impregnable in those days of hand-to-hand warfare, so we read that a very short time after their arrival the energetic Romans began to build fortifications, traces of which can still be seen in the shape of towers and walls. Hadrian visited York in 78 A.D. as did also Severus in 280. About this time the name Eburacum was changed by Greek influence to Eboracum. Until the withdrawal of C?sar’s legions in the 5th century, York assumed all the magnificence and beauty of a Roman city, and attained to the very height of its prosperity. After the departure of the Romans comes an obscure and misty period in the history of the city. It was taken possession of by the English, and in 627, during the reign of Edwin, king of Northumbria, the building of the Minster was begun.

York at this time was known as Eoferwic. Edwin was baptized into the Christian faith through the influence of his wife Ethelburga, daughter of the Christian king of Kent, and of Paulinus, who had accompanied Ethelburga to the North.
“But, to remote Northumbria’s royal hall,
Where thoughtful Edwin, tutored in the school
Of sorrow still maintains a heathen rule,
Who comes with functions apostolical?
Mark him, of shoulders curved, and stature tall,
Black hair, and vivid eye, and meagre cheek,
His prominent features like an eagle’s beak;
A man whose aspect doth at once appal,
And strike with reverence. The monarch leans
Towards the truth this delegate propounds,
Repeatedly his own deep mind he sounds
With careful hesitation—then convenes{36}
A synod of his councillors;—give ear,
And what a pensive sage doth utter hear!
‘Man’s life is like a sparrow, mighty king!
That, stealing in while by the fire you sit
Housed with rejoicing friends, is seen to flit
Safe from the storm, in comfort tarrying.
Here did it enter—there, on hasty wing
Flies out, and passes on from cold to cold;
But whence it came we know not, nor behold
Whither it goes. Even such that transient thing,
The human soul; not utterly unknown
While in the body lodged her warm abode;
But from what world she came, what woe or weal
On her departure waits, no tongue hath shown;
This mystery if the stranger can reveal
His be a welcome cordially bestowed!’
Prompt transformation works the novel lore;
The council closed, the priest in full career
Rides forth, an armoured man, and hurls a spear
To desecrate the fane which heretofore
He served in folly,—Woden falls and Thor
Is overturned; the mace in battle heaved
(So might they dream) till victory was achieved,
Drops, and the God himself is seen no more.
Temple and altars sink, to hide their shame
Amid oblivious weeds? O ‘come to me,
Ye heavy laden!’ such the inviting voice
Heard near fresh streams,—and thousands, who rejoice
In the new rite—a pledge of sanctity,
Shall, by regenerate life, the promise claim.”
Wordsworth.

Edwin was dispossessed of his kingdom by Penda, King of the Mercians, but the cause of Christianity was furthered by Penda’s successor, Oswy, with whose sanction Albert, Archbishop of York, rebuilt the Minster in the highest Saxon style (767-81). Between the times of the Angle and Norman invasions, York was a scene more or less of bloodshed and warfare. Immediately after the Norman invasion,{37} the city was captured by the Danes, who changed the name once more to Jorvik. William the Conqueror, hearing of the invasion, swore terrible vengeance on the North, and after buying off the Danes swept the country with ruin and havoc—his soldiers leaving scarcely a house standing between York and the Tees. In the Doomsday book the city is written Euerwic, from which comes the modern name York.

During the reigns of King William II. and Henry I. St Leonard’s Hospital, founded some centuries before, was granted many privileges and endowments. This institution assumed greater proportions in the following reign, eventually becoming an important religious house in the North. At the time of the Dissolution it had an annual revenue of over ￡1600.

When the dread fiat went forth for the destruction of monastic houses, there were in York alone 128 ecclesiastical establishments, including forty-one parish churches and nine religious houses. York seemed destined to be a centre of strife, for not only in the times of the Plantagenets, Tudors, Lancastrians and Yorkists, but also in that of the Stuarts, the city was doomed to suffer perpetual strivings within its walls. A staunch Royalist stronghold during the Civil War, and though captured by Fairfax and the parliamentary troops after the battle of Marston Moor, York was able to join the national rejoicings when Charles II. came to his own again. After the Stuarts the city enjoyed comparative peace under William and Mary and the Hanoverians.

Thanks to the Yorkshire Philosophical Society, who in 1827 bought the land in which the ruins of the Abbey stand, many precious fragments of the beautiful building have been unearthed and collected from all parts of York. Stones belonging to it have been found in every part of the city, and of greater interest to many than classical remains are the many valuable shards of the medi?val past preserved together with Roman tombs and heathen altars in the hospitium—{38}a building of peculiar appearance supposed to have been occupied by casual visitors to the abbey. Among many statues is that most exquisite fragment of Our Lady and the Holy Child. There are also carved bosses, caps, Anglo-Norman doors and lintels belonging to the ancient chapter-house, and many other perfect specimens of a fully developed art. When we realise that in the undercroft of the hospitium, amongst coal dust from the adjacent railway, lie, piled up in hopeless chaos, types of the best English architectural work, we are reminded again of the irretrievable loss to the nation from the overwhelming destruction that came upon England, and York in particular, in the ruin of the most beautiful church in the county—one boasting the highest work accomplished by Christian workmen. It has been noticed that many of the pieces of exquisite sculpture were carefully laid by the spoilers’ hands in places where they would be least likely to suffer from exposure. For this we must indeed be grateful to those men who were compelled to obey the dread mandates of Henry VIII., and who deserve all honour for their evident heartfelt appreciation of the beauty that they were forced to destroy.

From the times of the Normans until the Dissolution of the monasteries, York Abbey was held in high esteem both for its learning and its munificence. The revenues were great, and its abbot had a seat in Parliament. It is quite evident that whatever was planned and executed for the erection of the sacred building was accomplished in the best possible way. The Benedictine order was both the richest and the most learned in the country, and no trouble seems to have been spared to make the Abbey of Our Lady of York a monument of perfect beauty. The disaster that fell upon it was absolute—

“The whole vast property with the dream-like church and majestic monastery was retained by the Crown, and the{39} fairy buildings themselves were doomed to destruction after they had been rifled of their splendid plate, their hoard of sumptuous embroidery and needlework, their stores of parchment and vellum folios and manuscripts. The vast conventual buildings, wonders of masterly architecture, were blown up and levelled with the ground; and over their site was erected a new palace for the King, the carved stones being roughly hewn down to serve as mere rubble for its walls. This palace, or rather the major part of it, was speedily destroyed after Henry died, and that which was left was joined to the abbot’s lodgings, which were largely rebuilt and made into a residence for the Lords President of the North. Under James I. changes were made, and again under Charles the Martyr. What remains has now become a school for the blind.”—Cram.

After the Dissolution the church was left to the mercy of time and chance. The inhabitants of the city were allowed to take away stones if they required them to build or repair their dwellings; and finally, in 1701, York Castle needing reparation, the authorities levied on the Abbey itself. Later, in 1705, St Olive’s Church followed this dire example, and thus this once exquisite pile of English Gothic architecture became a veritable stone quarry. George I. allowed the Minster and St Mary’s, Beverley, to take stone as they required it for their own repairs; and after this, early in the 19th century, a lime kiln was set up near the church, and the carved stones of marvellous English workmanship made commercially valuable in the form of limestone.

The history of York Abbey is heartbreaking to lovers of art—for from every standpoint St Mary’s church stood as a perfect type of English work. How few people realise that within a few hundred yards of the world-famed minster are the remains of what was architecturally a far more glorious structure, and which, though not so great in length, possessed more beauty of workmanship than the venerable minster. English Gothic was at the height of its perfection{40} when, in 1270, Abbot Simon of Warwick rebuilt the Abbey. Norman and French influences had entirely vanished to be superseded by the light and graceful outlines of Early English architectural work. The west front is less perfect than the rest of the building, and is believed to be part of the earlier structure previous to Abbot Simon’s rebuilding. There are still to be seen the fast mouldering wall of the north nave aisle—a portion of the west end, and one tower pillar, which, alas, has been cut off to about half of its original height. The foundations of the east arm of the church are now exposed—for which we must again thank the Yorkshire Philosophical Society. There are also a few stones left of the chapter-house, and this is all there is with which we can conjure up a faint idea of what this abbey must have been in the noontide of its glory. We must be grateful that it is now in the care of loving hands, and will henceforth stand as a lasting memory of an ancient house of learning and hospitality, and also of the most perfect and consummate architecture known to the Christian world.
BYLAND (Cistercian)

1134, Gerald, an abbot, leaves Furness Abbey, with twelve Brothers, for Calder—1137, Depredations of the Scots compel their return to the mother abbey, where they are refused admission—The brotherhood comes under the protection of Gundreda de Albini and Roger de Mowbray—1142, Gerald journeys to Savigny, where he renounces his allegiance to Furness—dies at York, and Robert, the Hermit of Hode, succeeds him—1143, The Brotherhood removes to Byland-on-the-Moor, and remains there five years—1148, During a thirty years’ sojourn at Stocking, a church and cloister built—1177, The community remove to the present site at Byland—1322, Byland sacked by the Scots under Bruce—1540, The Abbot of Byland surrenders to Henry VIII. Annual revenue, ￡238, 9s. 4d.

Byland Abbey is situated south of the Hambledon Hills, a mile and a half distant from Coxwold—most picturesque of villages, with its wide street, quaint{41} cottages, ancient alms-houses, and overlooking all, its noble church on the hilltop. A lonely road leads from Coxwold to the abbey. After following its winding route a short distance, and eventually gaining the summit of a hill, the ruins of the abbey are seen in a hollow surrounded by cottages and a little stream—the Hambledon Hills rising majestically behind. Before reaching the abbey, one notices a cottage from the side of which springs a perfect Norman arch, belonging evidently to the domestic buildings which were situated to the south of the church.

Passing under the west front—an exquisite piece of Early English architecture—one is able to take a cursory glance at the remains of proud Byland. Exclusive of the west front and the end of the south transept, nothing is to be seen except the outer walls of the northern aisle of the nave—of the aisles of the north transept—of the east aisle of the south transept—and of the aisles of the chancel. Architecturally Byland Abbey was a type of light and graceful Transition at the time when pure Early English was definitely succeeding the Norman. It was the largest Cistercian church built in accordance with one design. But, by the length of the nave, the transverse arch at the east of the choir, and the very rarely seen west aisle of the transept, it differs somewhat from the other churches of the order. Mr J. R. Walbran, in an excellent description of the abbey, gives the following dimensions:—
Length of Nave     200       feet.        
Width “     70     “     including aisles.
Length of Chancel     72     “     2 inches.
Width “     70     “     including aisles.
Length of Transept     135     “      
Width “     74     “     including aisles.

Total length, according to measurement on plan, 328{42} feet 6 inches, practically the same length as Beverley Minster (334 feet).

Close inspection ought to be given to the west front (Early English). In the lowest part of the middle portion is a trefoil-headed doorway; above this are three lancet-windows, which again are crowned by the lower half of a circular window. Mr Walbran tells us that the diameter of this window measures 26 feet and that “probably it is as large as any coeval specimen of its kind that is known.” Of the conventual buildings little remains to be seen. The great cloister is said to have exceeded in size any other belonging to houses of the Cistercian order.

Byland, in common with most of the other religious houses was founded under chequered and romantic circumstances. An abbot, Gerald by name, and twelve brothers, all protestants against monastic laxity, fled from Furness Abbey to Calder, from whence they were driven away by the depredations of the Scots. On returning to the mother abbey they found the doors shut against them, but with unabated fervour they set out for York, taking with them only their vestments, some books, and a waggon drawn by eight oxen. Philip, third abbot of Byland, gives two different accounts as to subsequent events, one story being that in their plight they bethought themselves to seek advice from Thurstan, Archbishop of York, and were sent by him to Roger de Mowbray, near Thirsk, who in turn referred them to Robertus de Alneto, a hermit living at Hode, and formerly an abbot of Whitby. The other story runs, that after much suffering and disappointment the monks found themselves, footsore and nearly naked, in the streets of Thirsk, and that here they accidentally gained the goodwill of Gundreda de Albini, mother of Roger de Mowbray, who supplied their necessities in generous fashion and sent them to the benevolent hermit of Hode. The stories differ only, it will be seen, in respect as to the manner in which the goodwill of the{43} Mowbrays was gained and consequently the interest of Robert de Alneto. For four years the little community lived at Gundreda’s expense at Hode near Scawton, and during these years determined to renounce formal allegiance to Furness. Finding at the expiration of four years that the accommodation of Hode was insufficient for their steadily increasing numbers, and that the site was not a suitable one on which to build a permanent abbey, the monks appealed to Gundreda and Mowbray for other lands. A church and some lands at Old Byland, or Byland-on-the-Moor, were then given them by their noble patron. The new site proved, however, to be uncomfortably near Rievaulx, the monks of Rievaulx complaining that “it be unseemly that the bells of one house be heard at the other.” The monks then removed to Stocking, and during their thirty years’ sojourn there built a church and cloister. At the expiration of this time, fresh land was given them near Coxwold by Roger de Mowbray, and after some doubt and uncertainty, the erection of church and cloister was proceeded with on the land where the ruins of Byland Abbey now stand.

The Cistercians of Byland flourished greatly. Success and many gifts of houses and land came to them. Roger de Mowbray, their generous benefactor, after two journeys to Jerusalem, and after fighting and distinguishing himself in the Crusades, retreated in his old age to Byland and was buried “next his mother under a great stone.” His remains lay undisturbed till 1819, when they were disinterred and removed in a somewhat unceremonious fashion, be it said, in a box under the seat of Mr Martin Stapleton’s carriage to the church where they now rest.

Byland Abbey was sacked in 1322, during the disastrous fighting which followed Edward II.’s attempt to retrieve his losses at Bannockburn. The king found himself obliged to recross the border, the Scots{44} declining further open warfare in their own country. The Scots followed quickly and the opposing armies met very near to Byland, a little higher up the dingle and nearer Oldstead, where the English were utterly routed. In 1540 John Leeds and his twenty-four monks surrendered the vast possessions which they held in trust, and six years later, Byland was granted to Sir William Pickering, from whom it passed to Stapleton of Wighill, and later to Myton of Swale. The ruins are neglected and uncared for, and served for years as a common stone quarry from which almost every cottage in the village contains some fragments.
JERVAULX (Cistercian)

1144, Akarius FitzBardolph, Lord of Ravensworth, grants land to Peter de Quiniacus for the purpose of establishing a religious house—1145, Alan, Earl of Richmond confirms the foundation. 1146—The community, not prospering, seeks counsel from the mother house of Savigny—1156, Building of abbey begun—1537, The last abbot, Adam Sedbergh, hung at Tyburn—1538, Abbey handed over to the King’s Commissioners and despoiled. Annual revenue, ￡234, 18s. 5d.—1544, Site granted to Matthew, Earl of Lennox, and afterwards to the Earls of Ailesbury—1807, Foundations revealed during excavations undertaken by the owner.

The ruins of St Mary’s Abbey, which lie on a tract of level meadow land on the southern bank of the river Ure, are still surrounded by the peaceful quiet so beloved by the monks of the Cistercian order. Indeed a kind of solitude immediately strikes the beholder as being the keynote of this most harmoniously beautiful spot in Jorevalle. The sombre setting of its grey walls, more ruinous than most of those of other Yorkshire abbeys, is relieved by the deep mounting of green and by the profusion of ivy with which the walls themselves are covered.
“There stood a lone and ruined fane
Midst wood and rock a deep recess
Of still and shadowy loneliness;{45}
Long grass its pavement had o’ergrown,
Wild flower waved o’er altar stone,
The night wind rocked the tottering pile
As it swept along the roofless aisle;
For the forest boughs and the stormy sky
Were all that Minster’s canopy.”

Though of the Abbey church only the foundations are left, some portions of the other monastic buildings still remain. Thanks to the care and skill shown during the excavations undertaken by the Earl of Ailesbury in 1807, a good idea may easily be gained of the plan of a Cistercian house by any intelligent visitor to the ruins, there being, in the opinion of some, no monastic ruin presenting so complete a ground plan as Jervaulx.

The church is cruciform, measures 270 feet in length and consists of a nave of ten bays with aisles, a choir of four bays, transepts with eastern aisles of two bays, and a Lady chapel. What remains of the bases of the piers in the nave indicates that the style of this was Early English. It contains many memorials, chiefly slabs, and all in a more or less mutilated condition. A beautiful round-headed doorway at the west end of the south aisle is also an example of this period. A perfect altar, raised by three steps, still remains in the north-east angle of the north transept, on the broken slab of which are the original consecration crosses. Possibly this altar contained a sepulchrum for the reception of relics, as a stone is evidently removed from the face of it for this purpose. In the corresponding position in the south transept, which, like the north transept, is Early English work, only the base of a former raised altar remains. In front of the platform or raised part in the chancel (on which doubtless the high altar formerly stood) is a much mutilated effigy. As the shield of this memorial bears a faint indication of the FitzHugh chevron, it is supposed to commemorate a member of this ancient family, and a descendant of FitzBardolph, the founder{46} of the abbey. The Early English chapter-house is on the south side of the sacred edifice, and is connected with the south transept by a vestry, forming nearly the remainder of the eastern side of the cloisters. It is divided from east to west by two arcades and in it are many memorial slabs. On the opposite, or west side of the cloister, is the frater or refectory of the Conversi (Lay brothers) and to the south is the frater of the monks. On the south side of the chapter-house are other domestic offices, including the undercroft of the monks’ dorter, the kitchen, furnished with three enormous fireplaces about 9 feet wide, and lastly, and most interesting of all, to the south of the culinary department, is a little Early English chapel, in which is the base of a former altar raised on two steps.

Jervaulx Abbey had its beginning towards the second half of the twelfth century, when it was represented to Peter de Quiniacus, a monk of Savigny, that the people of north-west Yorkshire enjoyed none of the privileges of religious instruction. Peter met with the usual opposition, discouragement, and difficulty—opposition and disfavour, from his superiors; difficulty, in persuading the landowners of the district to grant land suitable for a site on which to build. Eventually he persuaded Akarius FitzBardolph (said to be the illegitimate brother of Alan, Earl of Richmond) to make him and twelve other monks, a grant of land at Fors—near Askrigg. Here they built some rude, insufficient shelters for themselves, to have them before long ruthlessly torn down by the country folk, who even in those early days objected to compulsory religious education—their resistance being, however, anything but passive. Peter appealed to the mother house, receiving in reply a rebuke for his foolhardiness and perversity. After a short retreat at Byland and nothing daunted, Peter persuaded twelve monks to return with him to Fors. Eventually, John of Kingston was elected abbot and was sent to Fors from Byland with nine monks, the general Chapter of the order having decided to give the monastery of Fors to Byland on condition that a regular religious house should be founded there. In 1156 Conan, Earl of Richmond, removed the monks to the present site of the Abbey near the river Ure. From that time onward the monks prospered. In 1537 their last abbot was hanged for participation in the Pilgrimage of Grace.
RIEVAULX (Cistercian)

1132, Founded by Walter Espec, Lord Helmsley—Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux, sends over some monks of the Cistercian order to form the new community—1539, Dissolved. Annual revenue, ￡278, 10s. 2d.

Though not so extensive as Fountains, nor in such a rugged mountainous district as Bolton, this ruin on the banks of the Rye can claim far more beauty and quiet loveliness than either of these popular abbeys. Sheltered on all sides by wooded hills and standing amid pastoral fields, this wreck of ancient glory is so completely in unison with its surroundings that the whole presents a perfect picture of past and present beauty. On the west the land slopes down rapidly towards the river, forming a terrace-like hill, and beyond this again are suggestions of moorland not far away. With the exception perhaps of Whitby and Tintern, Rievaulx may be considered to rank before any other ruined abbey for actual beauty both in itself and in its romantic situation. Dorothy Wordsworth, writing of Rievaulx in 1801, says, “I went down to look at the ruins.... Thrushes were singing, cattle feeding among green-grown hillocks about the ruins. The hillocks were scattered over with grovelets of wild roses and other shrubs and covered with wild flowers. I could have stayed in this solemn quiet spot till evening without a thought of moving.”

Owing to the aforementioned sudden dip in the{48} land, the church has the singularity of being built north and south, instead of the usual east and west, but, to avoid confusion in the general description of the building, it will be best to consider that the church is in the usual position of east to west. The church in former times consisted of a nave of nine bays, a choir of seven bays (both with aisles), and north and south transepts with eastern aisles. The nave of the church has completely disappeared and the only ruins left are those of the chancel and transepts. These are chiefly of Early English work; the portions of an earlier building of the Norman period can plainly be seen in the lower part of the north and west wall in the north transept, and in the west wall of the south transept. The junction of these two styles is not difficult to discern, for apart from the dissimilarity in style, the whiteness of the stone used in the Early English period offers a great contrast to that used in the earlier era. Both transepts have eastern aisles, triforium and clerestory. The windows are Early English. The chancel (of seven bays) has a particularly beautiful triforium and the east window consists of a double tier of triple lancets, of the upper three the middle light is higher than the other two. This abbey can boast of having had some of the earliest glass introduced into the north of England inserted into its walls in 1140, also a bell bearing the date 1167, which is now at Leek. Of the other monastic buildings, the refectory on the south of the cloisters can still be inspected with delight by those who appreciate the beautiful work of their forefathers. This Early English dining hall was lighted with lancet-windows and had the usual lectorium in the west wall, where now a recess shows its former position. There is a good deal of Norman work in the monastic offices to the east of the refectory. The cloisters were to the south of the nave, the usual position, though in the case of this abbey they would not get the warmth generally obtained from a southern exposure.{49} To the north of the village are the almonry and infirmary.

In tracing the early history of Rievaulx we find ourselves again in the regions of romance and tragedy. Dugdale in his Monasticon gives full credence to the story of Walter Espec, the brave soldier, who led his men at the battle of the Standard, and of whom Aeldred, Abbot of Rievaulx, third in the line of thirty-three incumbents, gives the following graphic description:—“An old man and full of days, quick-witted, prudent in council, moderate in peace, circumspect in war, a true friend, and a loyal subject. His stature was passing tall ... his hair was still black, his beard long and flowing, his forehead wide and noble, his eyes large and bright, his face broad, and well featured, his voice like the sound of a trumpet setting off his natural eloquence of speech with a certain majesty of sound.” “The aforesaid Walter,” so we read in the Monasticon, “had a son, called also Walter, who having unfortunately broken his neck, by a fall from his horse, his father resolved to make Christ Heir of part of his lands, and accordingly founded three monasteries.” Rievaulx was the third of these religious houses (Kirkham and Wardon being the other two), and its establishment was entrusted to certain monks from Clairvaux sent over by St Bernard himself. The house always retained the singular distinction accruing to it, owing to the friendship of its founders with the great saint.{50}
EASBY (Pr?monstratensian)

1152, Founded by Roaldus, Constable of Richmond—1379-99, Richard le Scrope of Bolton endows and enlarges the original monastery—The fabric dedicated to St Agatha—1424, Abbey consecrated by the Bishop of Dromore, acting as commissary to the Archbishop of York—1535, Dissolved—The screens and wooden stalls removed to Richmond Church. Annual revenue, ￡111, 17s. 11d.

The ruins of St Agatha’s Monastery can best be approached, after leaving Richmond, by following the northern bank of the Swale. A little to the south of this town of striking views, and at the end of a wonderful riverside walk, stand the remnants of the former extensive Pr?monstratensian abbey of Easby. They are situated on the immediate brink of the river at the foot of a richly wooded eminence; and, clothed with masses of tangled ivy, present probably a far more pleasing picture than when in former days the irregularly built monastic structure still held its reverend walls entire and unspoiled from the hands of ruthless destroyers and the ravages of time. It is evident that the fabric was exceedingly badly planned, many unaccountable irregularities being easily observable. The north aisle of the choir, itself of extraordinary length, is far exceeded in this respect by its fellow, the south aisle; the cloisters vary in length from 100 to 63 feet; the angles in the refectory are in every case more or less than a right angle, and finally, the infirmary, instead of being, as was usual, on the sunny, sheltered side of the church, is placed beyond the north transept. This last instance seems indeed a violation of ordinary commonsense. The infirmary “discloses to us one of the most complete establishments of the kind, despite its comparatively small size, which has yet been scientifically examined.” To the south of the church is the irregular cloister garth in which stands the beautiful Early English chapter-house with its large Perpendicular window. The upper storey{51} was rebuilt in the 15th century and was used for a library and sacristy. Quite an imposing range of buildings, of which the upper part was the refectory, stands on the south side of the cloisters. The east window and crypt are both of the time of Henry III. The guest house and other domestic offices occupy the west side of the contorted quadrangle, while a remarkable Norman arch, having exquisite dog-tooth moulding, still remains to indicate the foot of the former staircase which led to the canons’ sleeping apartments. Of the Abbey church only a few fragments of the chancel and north and south transepts testify to its previous existence. These are of Transitional and Early English work. The sacred building consisted formerly of a nave with aisles; north and south transepts, having eastern aisles; and a choir without aisles. The old gate house, built in the reign of Edward III., is in a perfect state of preservation, and guards the enclosure in which the Abbey and Parish Church of St Mary’s stand. Probably the lower part is Transitional and the upper Decorated work.

The history of Easby Abbey, from the reign of Edward III. until the Dissolution, is intimately associated with that of the famous family of Scrope. Richard, son of Henry Scrope, Chancellor to Richard II., made a grant to the canons of Easby of an annual rent of ￡150, in return for which the house was to maintain ten canons, to provide masses for certain people, and to support twenty-two poor men at the abbey for ever. In 1535 the net revenue of Easby was given as ￡188, 16s. 2d. (the abbey coming consequently under the order for suppression of monasteries whose income was below ￡200), but owing to many deductions its value was little over ￡111. These deductions included some quaint provisions for furthering the spiritual as well as the material welfare of the beneficiaries. Once a week, according to Grange, there was distributed to four poor and indigent people as much meat and drink as came to the annual value{52} of ￡2, 15s. 11d., this being for the benefit of the soul of John Romaine, Archdeacon of Richmond. One pauper also received every day, from the feast of All Souls to the feast of the Circumcision, a flagon of ale and one loaf of bread (the paysloffe or loaf of peace), the idea being doubtless to help some of the poor over the worst part of the winter. For this purpose the sum of ￡1, 6s. 8d. was disbursed yearly; ￡4 on the feast of St Agatha for providing the poor with corn and fish, and a similar sum in providing alms for the poor at the supper of the Lord. These charities must have been missed by the poor in the neighbourhood after the dissolution of the abbey in 1535, at which time the house and lands were leased by the Crown to Lord Scrope for an annual rent of ￡283, 13s. 1d. The direct male line of the Scropes came to an end with the death of Immanuel, eleventh Lord Bolton and first Earl of Sunderland, when the property passed through the marriage of a daughter to its present possessors, the Powletts.
WHITBY (Benedictine)

657, Founded by Oswy, King of Northumbria, as a religious house for nuns—664, Great Council meets to discuss the date of Easter, and the question of the tonsure—787, Destroyed by the Danes—1067, Re-founded by William de Percy, who elects Reinfrid (a former monk of Evesham) abbot, and endows the monastery—Benedictine monks colonise here—1250-1316, The church, from being but a humble structure, grows during these years into the noble edifice which belongs to this settlement—1540, Dissolved. Annual revenue, ￡437, 2s.—1763, During a violent storm the south side of the nave blown down—1830, The tower falls.

The river Esk on its way to the sea divides the town of Whitby in two,—the west cliff covered with modern houses with foreground of sands, the east cliff, crowned by its ruined abbey, which overlooks the town from a height of 250 feet. The view seawards is magnificent, and the surrounding country is{53} varied with dark hills, sometimes wooded, but oftener purple with heather. Looking north, the ruins face the broad expanse of the German Ocean, and are flanked by the heather-clad moors of Cleveland. On the east side of the river and below the abbey, the red old-fashioned houses rise tier upon tier up the cliff, making indeed the “haven under the hill.” The old Latin saying, “Bernard loved the valley, and Benedict the hill,” is well exemplified by the position of this Abbey of Streanaeshalch or “precipitous cliff.” The ruins are reached by a climb of 199 steps from the bustling quay below, and though somewhat scanty are of exceeding beauty and consist chiefly of Early English work. The chancel, which is of this period, has seven bays and a remarkably beautiful triforium. The east end consists of three stages of lancets, the centre group of which is the tallest and most elaborate. The north aisle of the choir is practically complete, and even retains some of its vaulting, but all the south aisle has disappeared. The north transept is of three bays and is architecturally the most perfect part of the church. It has an eastern aisle, and is of the same design as the chancel, having in the north wall the same grouping of lancets, but with the addition of a rose window above. Only a single column of the south transept remains. A portion of the west front (14th century) stands, showing a central doorway and a window, evidently inserted, of Perpendicular work, but of the nave only five bays of the north aisle wall and a single column of the north arcade still remain—the south side now consisting only of piles of dislodged masonry. It is possible to trace the foundations of the cloisters and chapter-house, the former of which occupied the whole length of the nave. In the Abbey House (to the south of the ruins) there is said to be a portion of the former domestic buildings—now known as the Prior’s Kitchen.

It is a matter of great regret that such a priceless example of English architectural workmanship as this{54} Abbey of St Hilda should be allowed to fall away before the nation’s eyes. Being in such an exposed position, on the very brink of a high cliff, the ruins will rapidly decay, and we have forebodings that before the end of this 20th century there may be very little of importance left of this building—so exceptionally invested with national, religious and legendary interest.

In fulfilment of the vow made before the battle of Winwidfield (655) by Oswy, King of Northumbria—that if victorious he would dedicate his daughter, Ethelfleda, to perpetual virginity, and would give twelve of his manor houses to be converted into monasteries—a religious house was founded at Streanaeshalch and placed under the charge of Hilda, Abbess of Hartlepool, to whom also was intrusted the child Ethelfleda. Under Hilda’s rule the famous Synod was held, to settle such vexed questions as the canonical date of Easter, and of the tonsure. Both the abbey and the town of Whitby were ruthlessly destroyed by the Danes in 787, and lay in ruins until 1067, when the restoration of the building was begun by a humble monk from Evesham, named Reinfrid. Formerly a soldier in the army of William the Conqueror, Reinfrid had been known as such by William de Percy, Lord of Whitby, who willingly granted to him and to his fraternity the site of the abbey. The history of the abbey in its early days tells of the usual vicissitudes, although early in the 12th century the community there prospered greatly under the government of Abbot William de Percy, nephew of the founder. Henry I. granted Whitby the same ecclesiastical privileges as those attached to the minsters of Ripon and Beverley. When in 1540 the last abbot, Henry Davell, surrendered to the king’s commissioners, there were eighteen monks in residence.

Turning from the historical to the legendary interest one finds a perfect wealth of story. “The Hermit of Eskdale,” “St Hilda’s Worms,” “Whitby Abbey Bells,” etc. These and other legends are{55} still common talk among the fisher-folk of the town, to some of whom it is given, they tell us, to see at times the wraith of St Hilda at one of the highest windows of the ruins arrayed in a shroud, and to hear the abbey bells rung by invisible hands under the water, where they remain since they sank with the ship which was to take them to London after the dismantling of the abbey. The poetical and beautiful story of the divine vision and inspiration of Caedmon is one known to all lovers of English literature. Sir Walter Scott in the familiar stanzas of Marmion beginning, “Then Whitby’s nuns exulting told,” speaks of one of the many miracles by which St Hilda’s sanctity attested itself. Sea fowl in full flight are said to have paused and drooped when they reached the abbey, and to have fallen to the ground in attempting to fly over it; while the snakes, which invested the rocks, and spoken of in legend as St Hilda’s worms, were, in answer to the prayers of the holy abbess, turned to stones, supposed to be the ammonites so frequently found embedded in the cliffs.
SELBY (Mitred Benedictine)

1069, Founded and endowed by William the Conqueror “in honour of our Lord Jesus Christ and His Blessed Mother the Virgin Mary and St Germain, the Bishop”—Guido de Raincourt gives the town of Stamford, Northants, to the new monastery at Selby—Other benefactors include Thomas, Archbishop of York; Gilbert Tison, chief standard-bearer of England; and Henry de Lacy, Earl of Lincoln—1189, Richard I. confirms all previous grants—1328, Edward III. ratifies the various liberties and exemptions—1540, Dissolved. Annual revenue, ￡729, 12s. 10d.—1618, The church made parochial—1690, The tower falls and destroys the south transept and the roof of the south-west aisle—1702, The tower rebuilt—1889-91, The choir restored—1902, The tower rebuilt under the superintendence of the Rev. A. G. Tweedie, Vicar of Selby—1906, Partially destroyed by fire.

The destruction of Selby Abbey by fire in October 1906 is a loss to the nation as well as to the county{56} of York. The late Sir Gilbert Scott, speaking of the abbey, said the building was “of a kind which is more the property of the nation than of a single parish, and one which is of the highest value to the study of ecclesiastical architecture and to the history of art in this country.” It was the most perfectly preserved specimen of a monastic church in England, and attracted arch?ologists from all parts of the world. The church possessed numerous tombs and monuments of exceptional historic interest and in it could be seen every variety of Gothic church architecture. The collapse of the central tower in 1690, destroying the south transept in its fall, was the first of a series of accidents that culminated in the recent terrible fire. This conflagration, which caused such deplorable injury, broke out in the Latham chapel, in which the new organ had been erected. Though most damage was done in the vicinity of the instrument—not a vestige of which remained—the fire left its mark on every part of the building, having spread from the Latham chapel to the north transept and choir, and from thence to the nave and tower. The choir, built in the 14th century, and one of the noblest examples of Decorated work, suffered much injury, but fortunately the east window—one of the finest specimens in England of a Jesse and Doom window—escaped destruction. The firemen were told to concentrate their efforts on this lovely feature of the building, with the result that the tracery and mullions survived in a more or less perfect condition. The window, happily, had been fully insured after the restoration carried out during the vicariate of the Rev. A. G. Tweedie, who collected ￡8000 for the purpose, and who also rebuilt other portions of the building. The aisles of the choir were left practically intact, but the north transept lost its roof, seats, and the greater portion of its handsome window. The nave, the last part to be attacked by the relentless flames, retained its pillars{57} and beautiful arches and in many ways has suffered less severely than the rest of the building, though the roof fell and by its fall destroyed the oak benches. The central tower (which ever since its first foundation has been a cause of anxiety on account of its insecurity) lost its roof and floors. It is a matter for congratulation that the west front only suffered comparatively little damage, for its towers were but partially burnt and the glass in the window cracked. The renovation of this ancient Benedictine church, founded by William the Conqueror, was put into the hands of Messrs J. Oldrid Scott & Son, architects, of London, who estimated that ￡50,000 was necessary for complete restoration. It is indeed to be hoped that this national monument, which until last year was the only monastic building in use as a parish church from Trent to Tweed, may be completely restored, and that the inhabitants of Selby may once more worship in their glorious old abbey church. The nave has already been re-roofed, and was opened on the 19th of October 1907. Of the history of the abbey very little is known, but no account of it would be complete without some reference to its connection with St Germanus. The following interesting extract is taken from Baring Gould’s Lives of the Saints:—

“About the middle of the 11th century, there was a monk of Auxerre, who had a special devotion for St Germanus, and an overwhelming desire to possess for himself a relic of this patron. One night he stole away to the sacred body, and bit off or cut off the middle finger of the right hand. No sooner had he done this, than he was seized with a horror and trembling, and began to smite his breast, with tears and lamentations, beseeching St Germanus to have mercy on him. Then, compelled by a certain necessity, he placed the finger on the altar. The horror-stricken brethren after this secured the body by walls and iron doors, and prepared an ivory case for the finger, in which it was kept over the altar instead of the body, which appears to have been there before.”{58}

“About that time there was a brother named Benedict, to whom St Germanus appeared three times in the visions of the night, and said to him, ‘Go from thy land and from thy kindred, and from this thy father’s house, and come into a land which I shall show thee. There is a place in England, and it is called Selby, provided for my honour, predestined for the rendering of my praise, to be famous for the titles and glory of my name, situated on the bank of the river Ouse, not far distant from the city of York. There I have provided and chosen a founder for my name, and thou shalt found for thyself a cell upon the royal land, which pertains to the right of the king. And fear not to undertake alone so great and such a peregrination; for, believe me, thou shalt be comforted by my companionship, strengthened by my counsel, defended by my protection. My finger which is over the altar, thou shalt carry with thee in memory of me, and that thou mayest be able to do this securely and without fear of losing it, thou shalt with a knife make an opening in thy arm between the elbow and the shoulder, and therein place the finger. Nor do thou tremble to do this, for thou shalt neither shed blood nor suffer pain.’ Benedict disregarded the vision the first and second time, but the third time the saint reproved him so severely for his negligence, that he set off at once, commending himself to God and St Germanus, and carrying off the finger without saying a word to anyone. Great was the consternation, loud the lamentations, long and diligent the search, when it was found the finger had disappeared. Then it occurred to them to pursue Benedict, and at last they overtook him and questioned him. He altogether denied having been guilty of any sacrilege; but nevertheless they searched his clothes. And not being able to find the relic, they returned in confusion to Auxerre, while he made a prosperous journey to England with his precious treasure. But the result of his inquiries on the road was his finding himself at Salisbury instead of Selby. Here he was most honourably entertained by a citizen named Edward, who loaded him with many precious gifts, the chief of which was a gold reliquary of wonderful workmanship, in which the finger was to be kept, and where it was kept at Selby when the account was written. When, however, he began to ask where York was, and which was the river Ouse, he discovered{59} that he had not yet reached the place of which he had been told in the vision. And being sorely troubled thereat, he was comforted by another vision of St Germanus appearing to him with a smiling countenance, and saying, ‘I said not unto thee Salisbury, but that thou shouldest ask for Selby.’ And then, says the chronicler, ‘whether in the body or whether out of the body I cannot tell; God knoweth,’ Benedict was transported to Selby, where the Saint said to him, ‘Here shall be my rest for ever, here will I dwell, for I have a delight therein.’ However, in the morning Benedict was still at Salisbury. A few days after, he was shown the way to Lymington by a priest named Theobald, and there he found a ship bound for York, in which he sailed. They had a prosperous voyage, and no sooner did they approach Selby than Benedict at once recognised it as the place he had seen in the vision. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘is the place which the Lord hath chosen; here let me land.’ And no sooner had he set his foot on the bank, than he set up the Cross under a great oak, called by the natives Strihac, about A.D. 1069, the fourth year of William the Conqueror, Here the chronicler expatiates on the beauties of the situation, the sweetness of the waters, the abundance of fish, the commodity of water transport. The very best of stone can easily be brought for building, and everything that goes to York from foreign parts, or from any port in England, has to go by Selby. And first Benedict built a little cell, where he offered continually praises to the most sacred finger, which had since his arrival made a dumb man speak. One day, a nobleman, named Hugh, passing that way, asked him what the cross meant. This led to a firm friendship between them, and they built an oratory in honour of St Germanus. Then Hugh took Benedict and introduced him to King William, who received him most kindly, and gave him one carucate of land at Selby, the wood Flaxey, the ville Rawcliffe, half a carucate in Braydon, and the fishery of Whitgift. Benedict now returned, set up workshops about his chapel, and many left their worldly employments to help in the construction of greater buildings. At this time there was in the neighbouring woods a gang of robbers, led by one Sevam, the son of Sigge. Sevam tried to break into Benedict’s cell at night; but his hand stuck to the wall, and there he remained{60} trembling till morning, when he was only set at liberty on making a vow that he would never offend the blessed Germanus again. A nobleman’s son was cured of epilepsy by a touch of the holy finger. In the ninth year of Henry I. there was a great flood in the river Ouse, after a sudden thaw. It came on so rapidly that when the bell rang for matins there was nothing of it to be seen; but before the office was over, the cloisters were flooded. The chapel being nearer the river was in great danger of being washed away, for water continued to rise for fifteen days. But within the chapel it never prevailed further than the altar step, though it had been two cubits higher outside than in. In the time of the Abbot Helias (circ. 1150), one who sacrilegiously tried to break into the church, died of a torturing sickness in three days. A similar chastisement overtook a soldier named Foliot, who stole a horse from the churchyard. Another soldier who kidnapped a captive from the church, was afflicted with contracted limbs, and in fact no one who presumed in any way to offend St Germanus escaped his scourge. In an attack upon the ‘castle’ it was set fire to, and the chapel of the saint only saved with the greatest difficulty. All captives who had faith in St Germanus soon escaped by his help. A furrier of Pontefract found his fetters drop off, so also a little boy detained as a hostage, and a cleric in bonds for his father, and others. In the time of the Abbot Germanus (circ. 1160), one Martin, who was nearly tortured to death, was made quite well in three days. A pack-horse crossing the bridge with some of the brethren who were going out on a preaching tour, slipped into the river, and when with great labour they had pulled him out, the vestments, relics, etc., in the chests on his back were found to have been miraculously preserved from wetting. Another time they were carrying the feretory on a waggon, which ran over a child of two years old and killed it on the spot. The Lord Prior exclaimed, ‘Holy Germanus, what hast thou done? We preach that thou dost raise the dead; but now, on the contrary thou killest the living.’ They fell to prayers, the child was placed on the ground under the feretory, and was very soon as well as if nothing had happened. While on this journey they passed the night in a certain church where a recluse dwelt in a cell in the wall. To her the saint appeared in her{61} sleep, and described his home at Selby, especially the churchyard planted with nut-trees, all which she was able to relate in the morning to one of the Selby brethren named Ralph, and by this token to prove a commission she had from St Germanus to rebuke him for dissoluteness and levity. To a hostess who entertained them, the saint appeared and rebuked her for not treating his servants with sufficient consideration. And a certain canon who had nearly died of a quartan ague was cured by drinking water in which the relics had been washed.”
MEAUX (Cistercian)

1136, Founded by William de Gross, Earl of Albemarle and Lord of Holderness—1150, Colonised by monks from Fountains under Abbot Adam and dedicated to St Mary—1317, Richard de Otringham gives land and money to the monastery—1349, The community visited by plague and earthquake, and its numbers greatly reduced—1360, Many valuable tracts of land belonging to the monastery are lost through the inundations of the Humber and encroachments of the sea—15—, Dissolved. Annual revenue, ￡299, 6s. 4d.

Meaux, three miles north of Beverley, in the East Riding of Yorkshire, was called after a town of the same name in Normandy by those Normans, who, coming over with the all-victorious Conqueror, settled in this part of the country. William de Gross, founder of the abbey, was practically the lord of all Yorkshire. Having been prevented, owing to his many years, from fulfilling a vow made in his youth to journey to Jerusalem, he built and endowed this abbey of which only a fragment of a wall remains, although traces of the foundation of the church are discernible. Some interesting relics have been discovered on the site, including tomb slabs and tessellated pavements which are now preserved in an adjacent house.

Meaux Abbey is fortunate in having a faithful and authentic record of its history from its establishment to the reign of Henry VI. This folio volume, written in Latin at the end of the 15th century, is preserved{62} in the British Museum and records many marvellous events. Superstition or faith—who shall say which?—must have inspired narrations such as the following:—“About the first hour there appeared in the sky three circles and two suns; and a dragon of immense size was seen in St Osyth (Osey Island, Essex) sailing the air so close to the earth, that divers houses were burnt by the heat which proceeded from him.” This alarming manifestation is said to have occurred “in the tenth year of Henry II.,” while previously, in the reign of Stephen, “a certain soldier, by name Oswey, chanced to have obtained admission into St Patrick’s Purgatory; and upon his return he gave an account of the joys and pains which he had witnessed there.”

The community at Meaux Abbey was severely stricken by the plague in 1349—only ten of the thirty-two monks being left. The same year, a great earthquake “threw the monks so violently from their stalls that they all laid prostrate on the ground.” About the year 1360 the monastery lost large tracts of land, owing to the encroachments of the sea. It would seem as if Meaux escaped the depredations and attacks of marauders and enemies only to fall prey to every possible form of the ravages of nature.