The church-history of Britain from the birth of Jesus Christ until the year M.DC.XLVIII endeavoured by Thomas Fuller.

Of the Civill benefits, and Temporall conveniences, accruing to the State by the continuance of Abbies.

SO much of the greatnesse, somewhat of the goodnesse of Abbeys, if possibly it may be done without prejudice to truth. Surely some pretences (plau∣sible at least) did ingratiate them with the Politicians of that Age, other∣wise Prince, and people in those daies (though blinded with ignorant zeal, yet worldly-wise) would never have been gulled into so long a toleration, yea vene∣ration of them.

2. They were an easie and cheap outlet for the Nobility and Gentry of the land, therein to dispose their younger children. That younger son who had not mettal enough to manage a sword, might have meeknesse to become a coule. Which coule in short time might grow up to be a Mitre, when his merits presented him to be Abbot of his Covent. Clap a vail on the head of a younger daughter (espe∣cially if she were superannuated, not over-handsome, melancholy, &c.) and in∣stantly she was provided for in a Nunnery, where, without cost or care of her pa∣rents, she lived in all outward happinesse, wanting nothing except (perhaps) it were an husband. This was a great cause of the long continuance of the English Nobility, in such pomp, and power, as having then no temptation to torture their Tenants with racking of rents, to make provision for their younger children. In∣deed, sometimes Noblemen gave small portions with their children to the Co∣vent

(not such as would preferre them in marriage to one of their own quality) but generally Abbeys were glad to accept them with nothing, thereby to engage the Parents, and Brothers of such young men and maidens, to be the constant friends to their Covent, on all occasion at Court, and chiefly in all Parliaments.

3. One eminent instance hereof we have in Ralph Nevil, first Earl of Westmer∣land, 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,

Joan, his second Wife,

1. John, his eldest son, Lord Nevil, &c. 2. Ralph, in the right of Mary his wife, Lord Ferrars of Ously. 3. Maud, married to Peter Lord Mauley. 4. Alice, married to Sir Tho∣mas Gray. 5. Philip, married to Thomas Lord Dacres of Gilsland. 6. Margaret, married to the Lord Scroop of Bolton. 7. Anne, married to Sir Gil∣bert Umfrevil. 8. Margerie, Abbesse of Bear∣king. 9. Elizabeth, a Nun.

1. Richard, Earl of Sarisbury. 2. William, in the right of Joan his wife, Lord Faulconbridge. 3. George, Lord Latimer. 4. Edward, Lord Abergavennie. 5. Robert, Bishop of Durham. 6. Thomas, in right of his wife, Lord a Seymour. 7. Katharine, married to Thomas Duke of Norfolke. 8. Elianour, to Henry Earl of North∣humberland. 9. Anne, to Humphrey Duke of Buck∣ingham. 10. Jane, a Nun. 11. Cicilie, to Richard Duke of York, and Mother to King Edward the fourth.

See we here the policie 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 Ab∣besse 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 prefer∣red his daughters to be Nuns; seeing no King of England, since the Conquest, had four Daughters living to womans estate, but He disposed one of them to be a Votarie. And Bridget, the fourth Daughter to King Edward the fourth, a Nun at Dartford in Kent, was the last Princesse; who entered into a Religious Order.

4. They were tolerable Tutours for the education of youth (there being a great penurie of other Grammar-schools in that Age) and every Covent had one, or moe 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 Musick, which in some sort sung her own Dirige (as to the generall use thereof) at the dissolution of Abbies.

5. Nunneries also were good Shee-schools, wherein the Girles, and Maids of the Neighbourhood, were taught to read and work; and sometimes a little Latine 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 (besides the avoiding mo∣dern inconveniences) might be heightned to an higher perfection than hitherto hath been attained. That sharpnesse 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 dayes, 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. They were the sole Historians, in writing to preserve the remarkable passa∣ges of Church, and Common-wealth. I confesse, I had rather any than Monks had written the Histories of our Land; yet rather than the same should be un∣written, I am heartily glad the Monks undertook the performance thereof. In∣deed, in all their Chronicles one may feel a rag of a Monks coule; I mean, they are partial to their own interest. But in that Age there was a choicelesse choice, that Monks, or none at all, should write our English Histories. Sword-men lacked learning, States-men leasure to doe it: it was therefore devolved to Monks and Friers, who had store of time, and no want of intelligence, to take that task upon them. And surely that industriousb 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 aire, and, being printed, publickly walk abroad. Mean time, whilest Monks pens were thus employed, Nuns with their needles wrote histories also; that of Christ his passion for their Altar-clothes, and other Scripture-(and moe Legend-) sto∣ries in hangings to adorn their houses.

7. They were most admirable good Land-lords; and well might they let, and set good peny-worths, who had good pounds-worths freely given unto them. Their yearly rent was so low, as an acknowledgment rather than a rent, onely to distin∣guish the Tenant from the Land-lord. Their fines also were easie; for, though every Convent, as a body politick, 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, pullein, &c. reserved on their leases, Te∣nants both payed 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 Land-lords bountiful table. Insomuch, that long Leases from Abbeys were preferred by many before some Tenures of freeholds, as lesse subject to taxes, and troublesome attendance.

8. 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 bountifull 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. Alwaies pro∣vided, 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. Some will object, that this their hospitality was but charity mistaken, pro∣miscuously entertaining some, who did not need, and moe, who did not deserve it. Yea, these Abbeys did but maintain the poor which they made. For, some Vagrants, accounting the Abbey-almes their own inheritance, served an appren∣tiship, and afterwards wrought journey-work to no other trade than begging; all whose children were, by their fathers copie, made free of the same company. Yea, we may observe, that generally such places wherein the great Abbeys were sea∣ted (some few excepted, where cloathing began, when their Covent did end) swarm most with poor people at this day, as if beggary were entailed on them, and that lazinesse not as yet got out of their flesh, which so long since was bred in their bones.

10. 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, bet∣ter 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 noi∣some lakes, which moisture is not needed by them (yea, they the worse for it) onely 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. Of all Abbeys in England, Elie bare away the bell for bountifull feast∣making, the vicinity of the fenns affording them plenty of flesh, fish, and fowle, at low rates. Hereupon the Poët,

Praevisis aliis, Eliensia festa videre, Est, quasi praevisa nocte, videre diem.

When other Feasts before have been, If those of ELIE last be seen, 'Tis like to one who hath seen night, And then beholds the day so bright.

But, with the leave of the Poëts Hyperbole, other Abbeys, as Glassenbury, S. Albans, Reading, spurred up close to Elie, which, though exceeding them in feasts (the evidence oft of a miser) yet they equalled Elie in the constant tenour of house-keeping. The mention of Reading mindes me of a pleasant and true story; which, to refresh my wearied self, and Reader, after long pains, I here in∣tend to relate.

12. King Henry the eighth, as He was hunting in Windesor Forrest, either ca∣sually lost, or (more probable) willfully losing Himself, struck down about dinner-time to the Abbey of Reading. Where, disguising Himself, (much for delight, more for discoverie to see unseen) He was invited to the Abbots table, and passed for one of the Kings guard, a place to which the proportion of His person might properly intitle Him. A Sir-loyne 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 an hundred pounds on the condition I could feed so heartily on beef as you doe. Alas! my weak and squeazie stomack will hardly digest the wing of a small rabbet or chicken. The King pleasantly pledged him, and heartily thanking him for His good cheer, after dinner departed, as undiscovered as He came thither.

13. Some weeks after, the Abbot was sent for by a Pursevant, 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 minde was filled with fears, creating many suspitions to himself, when, and how he had incurred the King's displeasure. At last a sir-loyne 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 lobbie, where He had placed Himself the invisible spectatour of the Abbots behaviour, My Lord, (quoth the King) presently deposit your hundred pounds in gold, or else no going hence all the daies of your life. I have been your Physician to cure you of your squeazie stomack, 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 some∣what lighter in purse, so much more merrier in heart than when he came thence.

Notes

• Give Abbies their due.
• They conveni∣ent to dispose youngest chil∣dren in.
• An eminent in∣stance thereof.
• a

  Mills, p. 393.
• Children taught therein.
• Conveniency of Shee-Col∣ledges.
• Monks the sole Historians, and why.
• b

  An able Sta∣tioner in Little Britain, London.
• Abbots excel∣lent Land-lords.
• And admirable House-keepers.
• Objection a∣gainst their hospitality.
• The same an∣swered.
• Elie puts all Abbeys down for feasting.
• A pleasant sto∣ry of K Henry the eighth.
• He proves a good Physi∣cian.