SAINTS AND SINNERS.

NZ Truth, Issue 129, 7 December 1907, Page 5

SAINTS AND SINNERS.

ROW EARLY ABBOTS AND BISHOPS FARED. The Woeful Extravagance of Wolsey, HOW FLETCHER OFFENDED ELIZABETH.

In Christchurch they possess a Ministers' Association or a Parsons' Association, or Sky-Pilots' Union, or something like that, and these whitechokerecl clerics meet and discuss things pertaining to the church ; also addresses are delivered about what the churchy white elephant was long years agone during the middle and other ages. Informal discussions are held about the good old days, those who have read about them taking part. But it is doubtful if their joint and several yabbers could produce such interesting copy as is to be found m Dn Doran's book, "Saints and Sinners,]' printed m the sixties. An article on tipsy parsons, containing extracts from it, appeared m "Truth" the other week. Others would not be out of place under the circs, and the Christchurch clerics (which don't include Booth's barracoutas) as well as the reading public of this eminently religious paper, will no doubt be edified thereat. Dr. Doran knew what he was writing about, and he had matters that had been culled from authenticated manuscripts long years before his time. He remarks that the primitive people of those days eminent for rank and piety who thought that hastiness was a sign of sanity, set a fashion which very few would follow. The hirsute St. Angus, perspiring and unwashed, worked for years m his barn, till scattered grain took root and grew on his hairy parcase. As holy men as he shook their heads as they passed him, and gave him a wide berth. St. Etheldreda, all royal as she was, never knew water until she took the veil. "Never mind," said Sir Romnald, "she keeps her heart clean, and that is washing enough." Other people didn't see it. For princely style, perhaps none exceeded the Benedictines. They were consequently popular, but they didn't always possess the public favor. When tile regular Benedictines were established m A.D. 1022, m the monastery of St. Peter, Gloucester, the townsfolk welcomed theny but roughly, and seven of the ' missionaries WERE KILLED IN A BRAWL. The authorities didn't hang the leader of the assassins who was a wealthy noble named Rae. They merely charged his estate with the maintenance of seven monks m a monastery ! This step caused him to experience a longer felt regret for his crime than if he had 'been hoisted at once to the gallows. The Benedictines subsequently flourished m Gloucester until 1412, when their last abbot, Froucester, died. But prior to that the monastery was noted for its magnificence. It was enriched by gifts and gat numerous bequests. The alibofcs were grand old, men, and were little princes m their own domain ; gorgeous m costume when occasion offered, and not more particular as to table and cellar than was proper m the persons of well-endowed monasteries who royally entertained monarchs, and gave cheerful entertainment of private brethren m a cheerful sort of way with My Lord Abbot m the chair ! In those days an abbot was a princely person, specially reverenced and scrupulously obeyed. When he passed by, all inferior brethren rose and saluted their chief. At night it was no less a person than his own chaplain who carried the lantern before him. No one could walk by his side except to Mass, and no man ever dared sit by the side of a j Lord Abbot without invitation, ex- j cept a sovereign prince ; and he who was invited to sit near him first bowed lowly and took his seat with the air of a man who thought the honor far beyond his merits. In short, no king had more courteous allegiance than a Lord Abbot m a great monastery. For good living (m some senses) there were some prelates who had as much capacity and liking as j the most sincere and gentlemanlike abbots. There was Wulstan, Bishop of Winchester (1062), who manifested a rare amount of good sense m the j style he maintained. He lived m hard j drinking times, and he didn't stint guests m good liquor. While they sat over a succession of cups for long hours after dinner, he sat there, too. He had a little gofolet, HOLDING A MERE THIMBLEFUL and this he pretended to quaff when his turn canne. That over, he would sit ruminating on sacred subjects, now and again" rousing himself to invite the guests to keep the liquor going. This they tippled out of foaming cups, he smiling the while— not that he loved the matter, but he wouldn't set himself against the prevailing fashion. His presence, moreover, kept down excess. Who could go to that extent m presence of a man so hospitable, but so reverently dignified ? Wulstan, as it were, sanctified the liquor by saying grace over it. He never omitted to ask this blessing for the bowl— not that he thirsted for Che contents, but that he thought it pleas-ant to follow the good old Saxon custom. But it wasn't all feasting and praying with the early bishops. Some of them acted as private tutors to young princes and nobles, and abbots kept schools m their monasteries. Young gents Often found them energetic headmasters, and boys got much chaffing for wrong quantities from the chaplains who acted as ushers. The parlor boarders dined at the abbot's table. At Gladstonbury the scholars sometimes number ed three hundred, and the teaching included instruction m rhetoric, versifying and music. Langton, of Winchester, had a school m his private house, and he conducti ed his show on the line that "Merit i grows with praise." This was better j I than m the after time, at Eton, when j ■ the whole school "broke" and ran '■ away through terror of the horrible ' fioeginfts that went on there as late ' as the reign of Elizabeth. j The lii 11 of fare for the olrl rpis- ; copal houses was great. Gargantua ' would have honored prelacy >\ 'the ■■-a^e of the hoc? Vomits ofine.ri. • the • rws of fowl? of the air, tlvo 't'i'.uite of fish from the river or the sea, the

oceans of -licfuor, arid the ever ready welcome. The mind was fatigued with contemplating' the catalogue of .rich mercies over which the chaplains sang grace. But there was really nothing m excess, and what little there was to spare went to the poor. The bishops of those apparently profuse flays had legions of retainers, clients and other persons to main-: tain daily. The table of De Swinfield, Bishop of Hereford, from 1281 to 1317 was uniform with the tables '.KEPT BY OTHER BISHOPS., and that was not ill, even on a fast day. On a Friday m Lent he would have hundreds of herrings, a couple of strikes of eel, multitudes of lampreys, and a fresh salmon, which would be sent by some kind soul to enrich the lenten fare. Hake ( and salted conger were sometimes added to the" menu. On Sunday at the Bishop of Hereford's the board held smoked pork, mutton, beef, fowls, pigeon and larks. Eggs, to the amount of eight hundred, and submitted to half as many ways of cooking, them, spices, each by the pound, partridges (a bon bouche for my lord's table) would appear on ordinary days and no lack of wine and beer to slackn thirst and promote digestion. But there was a period of the year when higher feasting than this was looked for -with pious impatience. The longdesired venison arrived on All Saints' Day, and the ecclesiastical gentry "went m" for it m good style. : A person; named Savage who was a -pointed to the Archbishopric of York m 1501, made the whole province, as well as the hospitable county from which his province takes its name, especially indignant at his not appearing to be enthroned. Hie sent' Ms fool, John Gorse, to amuse the household, and a deputyA to go through the enthronization with maimed rites. This, however, might have been endured, if it had been followed by the usual feast. York had always found solace at the funeral baked meats of one primate by thinking of the inauguration cheer of his . successor. But there was no feast on this occasion ; a<nd the orthodox appetites, as well as the thirsty claimants to be guests. But Yorkshire scon forgave the man, for he made up for his inauguration shortcomings by feasting half the county. The frank people there readily pardoned the prelate for neglecting all his professional duties, since he kept tbat hunting county alive and musical with the blast of the huntsman's horn and the "tongue" of the archiepiscopal hounds. In mere matters of State,- Wolsey was the last of the Archbishops of York, who was attended' at bedtime by nine or ten lords of his household, each of whom was himself helped to dress for such service by a couple of lacqueys of his own. WOLSEY DECKED HIMSELF OUT resplendently, and everything m his house corresponded with this. ' His distaste for retrenchment, on the ground thw£ what might thus be a superflux ne could give to the poor, was wise. In his lavish expense he, at all. events, encourgaed labor and promoted art and refinement. The poor, he said, would do no more than drink ale that was given to them ; and lie said this m extremely , offensive words, 1 for emnlovins; which, however, he had the authority, of scripture. The old English episcopal splendor of life, generally, may be said to have gone out with Warham, the last of the Archlbjishops of Canterbury, named while England was m full communion with Rome. His enthronization feast m 1504 was a marvel m its profusion and magnificence, although a Sunday m Lent brought with it lenten fare. The bill of that fare, however, was the longest on record. -Edward, Duke of Buckingham, last of the ordinarily appointed lord high constables, served the primate on the throne, and from the back of his horse directed with his truncheon where the dishes should be placed upon the tables. This ducal servitor lay headless m his grave when War- \ ham*s funeral feast took place m 1532. The guests left the Primate's body m the Cathedral to partake of the funeral banquet m the neighboring palace. At the heels of the guests, followed a hungry crowd who unceremoniously laid hold of everything within reach. While the row and the scramble were being enacted at the banqruet the primate's body was silently deposited m the sepulchre, ajid then the faithful few who had remained to the last sat down to a sumptuous feast unmolested by un»?emly mobs. If Cranmer's enttironjzation feast was m every respect different to • his predecessors the reason is said to have been that, while his own means were small, much of tdie property of the See had been sequestered, and was m possession of a king not likely to relax his hold of it. THOMAS CROMWELL WAS BOSS those days. Later on, Cranmer, Ridley and Latinxer were gaoled, and were allowed now and then to sit at meat together, when the whole meal only cost half a crown. The cost of the keep of these illustrious captives was supplied by Wells and Winkle, (bailiffs of the city). The Government we're the bailiffs' debtors and miserably cheated them. Wells and Winkle expended upwards of £63, including outlay for faggots for burning their guests ! Of this they never received more than £20. "Wfith delicate perception, m Elizabeth's reign, the two bailiffs petitioned the Bench of Bishops to club together and defray the expenses of the prison diet of the j three bishops. Nothing was said of the | outlay for fagots chains and staples, bait it all was m vain. Elizabeth used to threaten to unfrock a prelate she had no liking for, and could be i ; excessively rude to a -bishop's wife. ; Her ' especial favorite was the hand- ! 1 somio Fletcher. To marry once was ' offence' enough : but when Fletcher married a scr-on'l limp, and v-if.h a worn n n of ronp. of the best reputation, the Queen v withdrew from him the

light of her countenance. But m offensive conjugal and social style Richard Dixon, Bishop of Cork and Cloyne, took the bun.- His accumulation of offences had reached to this extent m 1571. He had abandoned Ms wife, Margaret Palmer and their children, had married a woman o£ evil life, one Annie Ooole, of Cork, and while living, with this woman he had paid suit toy letter to a respectable young woman, making her an offer of marriage. His superiors ordered him to do penance m Christ Church, Dublin, during service, and he appeared there accordingly, but there was such iitfpudent hypocrisy and pretence m the manner of this reverend offender, that proceedings which should have been first taken against 'him were instituted, and he was EJECTED PROM HIS SEE. Then, there was Marmaduke Middleton Bishop of St. David's (1582-90). He was a man who lived m good style, and wished to live m better. . He produced a will which would have enabled him to gratify his wish but for the discovery that he had forged it. Middleton wasn't hanged for the felony ; he Was only deprived of his See. He died m a couple of years. People grieved at the disgrace he had brought on the English Bench r but were eonj soled by thinking that he had previously occupied the See of Water- j ford— a See. by the way, one of whose j bishons. Atherton, was handed for" a worse crime than stealing a will. B"t e-o"n;h about old-time sky-rang- I ers this issue.