Whitsuntide festivities of 1256, jousts were held at Blythe, in Nottinghamshire, where the Lord Edward, eldest son of King Henry III, first began to give proofs of his chivalrous spirit. In this "mimic war," divers were overthrown and maimed, and among others, William de Longespé was so severely bruised that he died shortly after in the flower of his age. The following year there was another "" passage of arms," in the same field of tournament, in which Roger Bigod, earl of Norfolk, grandson of the countess of Salisbury, was so severely hurt that he died the year following of the injuries received. Thus was Ela deprived by death of both her son and grandson. Nor were these the only trials of her maternal affections; the year previous to the death of her eldest son, she had lost her daughter Isabella, Lady Vescy; and in the last year of her life she was preceded to the tomb by her son Stephen, whom she caused to be interred in her favorite abbey of Lacock, erecting over his remains, a handsome memorial of maternal affection. So that of all her family, she left only two sons and two daughters surviving, one of whom, Richard, canon of Salisbury, died the year after her. The five last years of Ela's life were spent in perfect retirement, she having abstracted herself even from the peaceful rule of the monastery she had founded. The Book of Lacock records, that after having for eighteen years "strenuously governed the flock committed to her charge,* most devoutly serving God, and maintaining a life of close seclusion, in fastings, watchings, holy meditations, severe self-discipline, and other good and charitable works; and, at length perceiving that old age had come upon her, and such weakness as prevented her from benefitting her order, she retired from the government of the house, appointing Beatrice of Kent, as abbess in her place. This was on the last day of the year 1256, and in the seventieth year of her age. And thus she survived for nearly five years after, released from every care." * Strenue gubernavit. Matthew of Paris applies to her an expression not less vigorous, "non muliebriter gubernavit.” And yet, even in this closing stage of her career, we find her earnestly soliciting from the king, important benefits for the foundation which held the chief place in her affections. The convent had been deficient in fire-wood, and one among the grants of the monarch consisted of forty acres of woodland, from Melksham forest, "granted to the earnest request of our beloved kinswoman, ELA, FOUNDRESS OF THE HOUSE OF LACOCK." At length, "in the seventy-fourth year of her age, on the 24th of August, 1261, yielding up her soul in peace, she rested in the Lord, and was most honorably interred in the choir of the monastery." Among the entries in the Book of Lacock, the following should not be omitted: "To three poor persons on the eve and day of the profession of the Lady Ela Longespé, to each of them daily, in bread, drink, and meat, 2d worth." "To the poor, on the feast of St. Bartholomew, the apostle, for the soul of the Lady Ela Longespé, eight bushels of corn, worth 5s. 8d., and sixteen chuses, or allaces [dried fish], worth 8s." "For forty-four pounds of wax, for twentyfive candles daily lighted throughout the year [during the mass for the dead], about the tomb of the Lady Ela Longespé, the foundress, at 7d.,—1£. 5s. 8d.” Among the bequests to this convent is the following very touching one; "Bequeathed to the abbey of Lacock, the manor of Shorewall, in the isle of Wight, by Amicia, countess of Devon, and Ladye of the Isle;' together with her heart to her daughter Margaret, a nun at Lacock." The deep and hallowed feeling under the influence of which a mother bequeathed her heart, to rest near that daughter, whom she had resigned in this world to be devoted to the service of religion, can be better conceived than described. The reception within the walls of the abbey, in the year 1297, of the heart of the aged Nicholas Longespé, bishop of Salisbury, the last surviving son of the foundress, is another instance of pious affection. We learn that the abbey maintained three priests for the daily celebration of divine services, and one discreet and learned priest. the general confessor to the convent, and the teacher and preacher of God's word. The last abbess of Lacock was Johanna Temys, who continued to preside till the dissolution of the house in 1539, when it was surrendered, with so many others, into the unhallowed grasp of Henry VIII. The fatal document is still preserved among the records in the Augmentation office. The surrender was made on the 21st of July, before John Tregonwell and William Peter, clerks in chancery, and is ratified by the common seal of the abbey. Besides the abbess and the prioress, there were fifteen other nuns, at the time of what was qualified by the gentler term of "surrender." We have thus traced the annals of Lacock abbey to the time when that royal exemplar of all that was most ruthless in tyranny-all that was most inexorable in revenge-all that was most loathsome in lust-all that was most sordid in avarice-HENRY VIII, bearing, as in mockery, the absurd title of Defender of the Faith, smote throughout the kingdom those unnumbered beautiful edifices, which had so long subserved the cause of piety, learning, hospitality and charity. The stern mandate went forth-Down with them, even unto the ground! and the effects of that mandate are still before our eyes. In the majesty of silent desolation, they still hallow the romantic vallies, and secluded spots over which their august and venerable frag ments are strewn. Among those monuments of the piety of our forefathers, Lacock has preserved, in an almost perfect form, the cloisters, the cells of the nuns, its rich Gothic windows, and ivied chimneys; the church only has disappeared. In the cloisters, which are as fresh, as if from the architect's hand of yesterday, is preserved the monumental stone that covered the remains of Ela; it was removed from near the altar of the destroyed choir, and has the following inscription, in the jingling verse of the time. Infra sunt defossa Ela venerabilis ossa, The venerable Ela sleeps below, The holy ritual of that religion which Ela loved and cherished, has been retained within these walls, to which it is kindred. The late dowager countess of Shrewsbury was a resident here for a number of years, and a branch of her family still possesses this beautiful domain. In the year 1806, the Rev. George Witham, the countess' chaplain, an ecclesiastic possessed of every amiable virtue, compiled and printed with his own hands a short "History of Lacock Abbey." This small quarto is a literary curiosity of great rarity. The present sketch is indebted to it in more instances than one. One word more respecting the dissolution of this religious retreat, and we have done. The hypocritical formality with which the imperial robbery, planned and executed by the sacrilegious avarice of Henry VIII and his hungry minions, would awaken no other feeling than that of virtuous indignation, did not the humble and uncomplaining submission of the helpless inmates of its walls, demand our tears also. Let us picture to ourselves the scene exhibited at the time of this iniquitous visitation, executed by men interested in doing the will of their employers, in defiance of every feeling of justice and humanity. The "commissioners," as they were termed, appear to have been men whose consciences "were seared as with a hot iron." Let us look at their method of proceeding in reference to the house whose history we are sketching; and ex uno disce omnes. One story told will serve for consternation. The abbess and her whole community are summoned before the visitors in the chapter house. Having hurried to the altar, and poured forth a hasty prayer together, perhaps for the last time, we may conceive them standing in silent submission before their cold and subtle inquisitors. The fatal instrument of surrender has been already prepared. Its purport is, that the abbess and her nuns "of their own will and free consent, and without any compulsion, did, out of pure conscience, resign forever for the king's USE, their whole property and possessions;" we use the very terms that disgrace many an instrument of the kind, and this instrument the poor sisters were compelled to confirm, in consideration of the beggarly pittance doled out to them in their destitution! Any thing like remonstrance, complaint, or refusal, was sternly interdicted. But this was tolerable: the worst was yet to come. Crimes were alledged against them, such as would blanch the cheek of womanhood to hear. The wolf can readily find charges when the lamb is accused. A long catalogue of alledged crimes, but unaccompanied by a shadow of proof, shocks the ear of the reader. Malignity" will sometimes overleap itself;" this list of enormities is so evidently exaggerated, as to excite in every virtuous bosom instant indignation at their falsehood. From the disgusting pages of a Speed, a Foxe, and others, where these atrocities are recorded in cold blood, without the slightest intimation of a proof, or of the necessity of one, we turn away with no reply but that of indignant silence! We said that all remonstrance on the part of the sufferers was forbidden. It was so: but, despite this command, we find one calm dispassionate appeal upon record, so touching and so natural, that we must not withhold it from the reader. The writer is the abbess of that very convent, Godstow,* The following beautiful lines on the ruins of Godstow nunnery, were written by Dr. Markham, archbishop of York, when at Oxford: Qua nudo Rosamonda humilis sub culmine tecti in Oxfordshire, where the beautiful but unfortunate mother of the first noble Longespé, fair Rosamund, had her tomb. Letter of the Abbess of Godstow to Crumwell. May it please your honor, with my most humble duty, to be advertised, that, whereas, it pleased your lordship to be the very mean to the king's majesty for my preferment, most unworthy as I am to the abbess of this the king's monastery of Godstow; in which office I trust I have done the best in my power towards the maintenance of God's true honor, with all truth and obedience to the king's majesty. I was never moved nor desired by any creature, in the king's behalf, or in your lordship's name, to surrender and give up the house; nor was I ever minded, or intended so to do, otherwise than at the king's gracious command, or yours; to which I have ever, and will submit myself most humbly and obediently. I trust to God, that I have never offended God's laws, or the king's, whereby Et veteri pavidum religione nemus. Pallentes nocturna ciens campana sorores, Hinc matutinam sæpe monebat avem ; Hinc procul in media tardæ calignis hora, Prodidit arcanas arcta fenestra faces. Nunc mascosa extant sparsim de cespite saxa, Nunc muro avellunt germen agreste boves. Fors et tempus erit, cum tu, Rhedycina, sub astris Edita, cum centum turribus ipsa rues. Where now those roofless walls give scanty room, Fair Rosamund, to guard thy simple tomb; Where by the fragments scattered on the floor We trace the chancel's site, now seen no more; Fair Godstow towered amidst the forest shade, By our forefathers' faith how awful made! How oft its bell, that tolled the hour of prime, Awoke the matin lark before his time; And through tall windows streamed its tapers bright, Seeming to chide the tardy-footed night. Now moss-grown ruins totter to their fall, And the kine crop the grass upon the wall. And shall thy fate be such, Oxonia! must Thy hundred towers thus crumble in the dust? Might we not add in regard to this venerable seat of learning, and more especially in reference to the present religious indications there, the following: Then didst thou fall, when in ill-omened hour, TO ROME, who yearns to clasp that child once more; W. this poor monastery ought to be suppressed. Yet, notwithstanding this, my good lord, so it is, that Dr. London, who, as your lordship well knows, was against my promotion, and has ever since borne me great malice and grudge, like my mortal enemy, is suddenly come to me, with a great rout with him, and doth threaten me and my sisters, saying that he hath the king's commission to suppress this house, in spite of my teeth. And when he saw that I was content that he should do all things according to his commission, and showed him plainly that I would never surrender into his hands, he being my ancient enemy. Now he begins to treat me, and to inveigle my sisters, one by one, otherwise than ever I heard tell that the king's subjects have been handled; and here tarrieth and continueth, to my great cost and charge, and will not take my answer that I will not surrender till I know the king's gracious command, or your lordship's. I do, therefore, most humbly beseech you to continue my good lord, as you ever have been; and to direct your honorable letters to remove him hence. Whensoever the king's gracious command, or yours, shall come to me, you shall find me most ready and obedient to follow the same. And notwithstanding that Dr. London, like an untrue man, hath informed your lordship, that I am a spoiler and a waster, your good lordship shall know that the contrary is the truth; for I have not alienated one ha'pworth of the goods of this monastery, movable or immovable; but have rather increased the same, never having leased any farm or piece of ground belonging to this house, otherwise than had been done in times past, always under the convent seal, for the weal of the house. And, therefore, my very trust is, that I shall find the king as gracious lord to me, as he is to all other his subjects, seeing I have not offended; and am, and will be, most obedient to his gracious commands at all times, by the grace of Almighty Jesus, who ever preserve you, in honor long to endure to his pleasure. Amen. Godstow, the 5th day of November. Your most bounden beads woman, KATHARINE BULKELEY, Abbess there. Surely no better proof is wanting than the above letter of the integrity of this spirited woman, and that of the sisters of her society; nor could a better proof be exhibited of the hard measures and worldly craftiness to which she, as well the other religious of that day, was exposed. Of what description of persons many of those commissioners were, we have a specimen in this very Dr. London, who could insult in her sorrows a virtuous and high minded woman, and whom we afterwards find convicted of perjury, and exposed to public scorn and degradation. The measures of the commissioners were imperative, and sometimes, as was the case at Reading and Glastonbury, they proceeded to the extreme penalty of death, on a charge of high treason.* On the other hand, if they recommended the religious to the king's favor, it was in consideration of their readiness to yield to the imperial mandate ! The following letter of the prior of Hinton, addressed to his brother in London, presents the picture of a mind hesitating between a sense of duty, and the terrors of arbitrary power. "THUS:-In our Lord Jesus shall be your salvation. And whereas you marvel that I and my brethren do not freely and voluntarily give and surrender up our house at the motion of the king's commissioners, but stand stiffly, and, as you think, obstinately in our opinion; truly, brother, I marvel greatly that ye think so; but rather, that you would have thought us light and hasty in giving up that thing, which it is not ours to give, being dedicated to Almighty God for service to be done to His honor continually, together with many good deeds of charity, which are daily done in this house to our Christian neighbors. And considering that there is no cause given by us, why the house should be put down, but that the service of God, religious conversa *The following are notices extracted from Crumwell's private memoranda: Item.-The abbot of Reading to be sent down to be tried and executed at Reading, with his accomplices. Item.-The abbot of Glastonbury to be tried at Glaston, and also to be executed there, with his accomplices. 腐 tion of the brethren, hospitality, alms deeds, with all other our duties, are as well observed in this poor house, as in any religious house in this realm, or in France; which things we trusted that the king's grace would consider. But, because you write of the king's high displeasure, and my lord privy Seal's, who ever hath been my special good lord, and I trust yet will be, I will endeavor as much as I may to persuade my brethren to a conformity in this matter; so that neither the king's highness, nor my said good lord, shall have any cause to be displeased with us; trusting that my poor brethren, who know not where to have their living, may be charitably looked upon. Thus our Lord Jesus preserve you in grace." ED. HORD. Hinton, the 10th day of February. To his brother Allen Hord in the middle temple. The following is a list of the inmates of Lacock Abbey, at the time of the dissolution, and of the annual pensions assigned. them. To Johanna Themys, abbess, £40: to Elenor Monmouth, prioress, £5; to Anne Brydges, Amy Patsall, Ellen Bennet, £4 each; to Margaret Leggetton, Elizabeth Wylson, Elizabeth Baynton, Agness Bygner, and Margaret Welshe, £3 6s. 8d. each; to Johanna Marshall, and Elizabeth Wye, £3 each; to Elenor Basdale, and Anne Trace, £2 13s. 4d. each; and to Scholastica Hewes, Elenor Maundrel and Thomasina Jerves, £2 each. The imagination may faintly conceive, but what language can adequately express, the feelings of forlorn destitution which must have weighed down the hearts of these poor women, some of them, perhaps, having sacrificed friends and expectations in life, and now to find themselves turned adrift, to seek where they might a sojourn, till earth should receive their ashes. Some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon: The world was all before them, where to seek Their place of rest, and Providence their guide. A LETTER ON PRAYERS FOR THE DEAD. DEAR N compliance with your request, I hasten to explain the nature of our belief in the doctrine of purgatory, or a middle state of souls; and to show you our reasons for praying for the souls of the faithful therein detained. Of all the doctrines of the Catholic Church, there is perhaps no one, if we except confession, less generally understood, and more misrepresented than that of purgatory; and yet why should it be so? Is it not a consoling belief, a cheering thought, that though the cold grave has closed over the countenance on which we once loved to gaze, though the eye that once sparkled with all the joy of a fond father's or a loving mother's heart, is now bedimmed in death, and we hear no longer the endearing accents of a parent's, a brother's, a sister's, or a child's voice, we can still follow them beyond that grave into the very regions of eternity,-that we can go in spirit in search of those cherished objects before the throne of God; and if we find them not enthroned in all the splendor of the Deity, we can search and find them advancing towards the land of eternity, in a state of temporary probation, preparing for their entrance into the promised land, heaven, their home, their true country? And oh! is it not consoling to us to believe and to know that heaven has placed it in our power to aid them in that preparation, and by our prayers, alms-deeds, and supplications, to abridge the period of their exile from the beatific vision of their God? Such is the firm and settled belief of Catholicssuch the doctrine of the true Church. I will not, my dear friend, for the task would be almost as useless as it would be endless, attempt a refutation of the many unkind and absurd arguments advanced against this doctrine. To do so would be to treat |