CHARITY IN THE MIDDLE AGES

New Zealand Tablet, 24 March 1910, Page 452

CHARITY IN THE MIDDLE AGES

One turns but: too gladly from the controversies that -rage round our own dehumanised Poor Law (says the London Nation) to the graces and humanities of mediaeval charity. Here are no economics, _ here is no organisation. ’ Manchester was still a sleepy village which boasted no school. Men gave from impulse, and liked to think of those who received only as the blessed occasions of goodwill. The sick poor were the sore members of Christ.’ Ever the leper begged with the halo of. the Gospel around him, and the dukes of those days took warning from the Dives of the miracle play.' The part of the monasteries in mediaeval charity is well known, but the immense development of the hospitals has only now been investigated. There was a list of no less than 750 of these ’spitals. The total impression one derives from this analysis is of an active and very genial benevolence. The mere number of these houses in a population much less than that of modern • London is enormous. They cared for the leper and the • sick: poor, for the aged and the orphan, for the broken sol- • dier and the shipwrecked or homeless sailor.' Some spe- . cialised in attending to wayfarers and pilgrims, and planted themselves by the gates of the town. Others, _ until leprosy died out, were lazar-houses; some. were primarily for the poor. clergy. Others were primarily almshouses set apart for the permanent residence of the aged and destitute. Most of them, however, were promiscuous to a degree which would fill Mrs. Webb' with horror. Tramps and pilgrims, the aged and the sick, soldiers, sailors, and

idiots, poor married mothers and c yong wymmen that have mysse done' dwelt somehow together under the same roof, and the large tolerance that spoke so few moral judgments made their association endurable. > ;• ;...'. One might go on from this broad survey to a : closer investigation in the same mood of < envious wonder. A pity which did not seek to degrade its victim was everywhere the ' presiding spirit. One foundation specifies minutely the provision that shall be made for the tramp and the wayfarer: In regard to poor people who are received late at night and go forth early in the morning, let the warden take care that their feet are washed, and, as far as possible, their necessities attended to. . It was a casual ward without the, stoneheap. Discipline there was, but it was commonly that of the fraternity, one might almost say of the club. The consent of the Colchester lepers, for example, was necessary before a new member could be admitted. Sometimes, indeed, as in the Bristol sailors' home, the organisation was that of a benefit society, to whose privileges only members : who had contributed for seven years were admitted. The cases became brothers and sisters of the foundation, and the whole spirit of its rule of life was that of a preparation of the broken in this life for a better world. The material conditions of existence in these hospitals must have varied enormously. , But in one case there is a record of meat three times a week, of vegetables in abundance, and -of the glorious allowance of one gallon of beer a day. The older and wealthier foundations paraded a certain pomp and grace' of architecture. Their chapels, in which all but the bed-ridden were expected to keep the canonical hours, are sometimes perfect and even elaborate specimens of the style in which they are built. The hospital itself was built sometimes with tenements, sometimes with cubicles, and sometimes with dormitories. But there was always a great refectory with a vast inglenook which was the centre of the fraternal life of the place. In some of the larger hospitals there were elaborate preparations to facilitate the cleanliness of the inmates, . from weekly baths to weekly visits of the barber, and the phrases in which the rules were drafted suggest rather the hospital provision of comforts than the penal discipline of a modern workhouse. There are details, moreover, which prove that over some of these 'spitals there brooded a spirit of more than apostolic charity. The statutes of Chichester, " for example, provide that 'if a brother under the instigation of the devil fall into immorality out of which scandal arises, or if he strike or wound the brethren,' he must be expelled if incorrigible. 'But let this be. done, not with cruelty and tempest of words, but with gentleness and compassion.' One might in this strain fill a volume with praises of the generosity of pious givers, and sketches of the gentleness and good will that reigned in these mediaeval ' God's houses,' in the manner of a sunset picture by Fred Walker. It is difficult to believe that the brotherly . pity of the Middle Ages can ever have been a habit generally observed. It is certain that scarcely a memory of it remained when the Reformation arrived. We read no more of the provision of shelter and water for wayfaring men. Instead, the vagrant is lashed by statute from town to town. Under Edward VI. he is even converted into a chattel slave, with a ring round his neck and a brand upon his skin. The destruction of the hospitals accompanied the dissolution of the monasteries. It was not, indeed, complete, for some of the most venerable foundations, like St. Cross at Winchester, survive to this day. But no hospital attached to a monastery was spared, and of the rest the greater number perished. St. James' Palace was built on the site of a 'spital for women. The Savoy, but newly built, was turned from its purpose. The city of London was fain to buy back Bedlam after the Crown had confiscated it, and to endow St. Bartholomew's after Henry VIII. had closed it. Yet there can never have been a time when England stood in greater need of charity.