becoming masters of it, they, according to the custom of their country, erected to their idols fanes and altars in several parts of the land, and, overthrowing the Christian churches, drove them from their worship and spread their Pagan rites all around the country. Thus was restored the old abomination wherever the Britons were expelled their place; London worships Diana, and the suburbs of Thorney offer incense to Apollo." Wren, during the rebuilding of St. Paul's, took great pains to investigate the truth of the story as respects that edifice, and ended in being very incredulous concerning both. And as to St. Paul's, his argument, no doubt, is sufficiently forcible, having "changed all the foundations" of the old church, and found no traces of any such temple, whilst satisfied that "the least fragment of cornice or capital would demonstrate their handiwork." But he had not the same opportunity of examining the foundations of Westminster Abbey, and most devoutly it is to be hoped that no one ever will have, arising, as the opportunity must, from the destruction of the existing edifice. Under these circumstances Wren is hardly justified in taking it for granted that the story of Apollo and the Abbey was merely made up by the monks in rivalry to the traditions of Diana and St. Paul's. The matter is buried in obscurity, and, for any proof that appears, to this hour the foundations of the Pagan shrine may lie below those of the Christian. Flete adds to the statement given, that the temple was overthrown and the purer worship restored by Sebert, with whose name the more undoubted history may be said to commence. Yet even Sebert is so much a matter of question, that, whilst some old writers call him a citizen of London, others say-apparently with truth, from the care taken of his tomb through all the rebuildings-it was Sebert, King of the East Saxons in the beginning of the seventh century, and nephew of Ethelbert. Mellitus was then Bishop of London, and encouraged, if he did not instigate, Sebert to the pious work; which, indeed, has been attributed wholly to him. The place-a "terrible" one, as an old writer calls it-was overrun with thorns, and surrounded by a small branch of the Thames; hence the name Thorney Island. Malcolm, having one day mounted to the top of the northernmost of the two western towers, professes to have been able to trace clearly the old boundaries of the island. Here the Church, or Minster, was built, West of London, from which circumstance the Abbey and the district now derive their appellation. It was to be dedicated to St. Peter, and the preparations were already made for that august ceremony, when, according to the relation of several writers, whose fidelity we leave our readers to judge of, the Apostle himself appeared on the opposite bank of the Thames, and requested a fisherman to take him There he was desired to wait while St. Peter, accompanied with an innumerable host from heaven singing choral hymns, performed the ceremony of dedication to himself; the Church, meanwhile, being lighted up by a supernatural radiance. On the return of St. Peter to the astonished fisherman he quieted the latter's alarm, and announced himself in his proper character; bidding him, at the same time, go to Mellitus at daybreak to inform him of what had passed, and to state that, in corroboration of his story, the Bishop would find marks of the consecration on the walls of the edifice. To satisfy the fisherman he ordered him to cast his nets into the river, and present one of the fish he should take to Mellitus; he also told him that neither he nor his brethren should want fish so long as they presented a tenth to the Church just dedicated; and then suddenly disappeared. The fisherman threw his nets, and, as might have been expected, found a miraculous draught, consisting of the finest salmon. When Mellitus, in pursuance of the Apostle's mandate, went to examine the Church he found marks of the extinguished tapers and of the chrism. Mellitus in consequence contented himself with the celebration of Mass. We may

over.

smile now at such a story; but there is no doubt whatever that for ages it obtained general credibility. Six centuries after a dispute took place between the convent and the parson of Rotherhithe, the former claiming a tenth of all the salmon caught in the latter's parish, on the express ground that St. Peter had given it to them; eventually a compromise was agreed to for a twentieth. Still later, or towards the close of the fourteenth century, it appears fishermen were accustomed to bring salmon to be offered on the high altar, the donor on such occasion having the privilege of sitting at the convent table to dinner, and demanding ale and bread from the cellarer.

From the time of Sebert to that of the Confessor the history of the Abbey continues still uncertain. There are in existence certain charters which, could they be depended upon, would give us all the information we could reasonably desire. And, although the best authorities seem to think they are not to be so depended upon, yet their arguments apply rather to the property concerned than to any mere historical facts. For when these ingenious monks took the bold step of forging such important documents, supposing them to have done so, they would assuredly take care to be as precise as it was possible to the known incidents connected with the history of their house, and of course they were in possession of the best information. The first of the charters is one granted by King Edgar, 951, directing the reformation of the monastery by Dunstan, which had been previously destroyed or greatly injured by the Danes, and confirming privileges said to have been granted by King Offa, who, after the decay of the church consequent on the death of Sebert, and the partial relapse of the people into heathenism under the rule of his sons, had, says Sulcardus, restored and enlarged the church, collected a parcel of monks, and, having a great reverence for St. Peter, honoured it by depositing there the coronation robes and regalia. Another charter by Edgar, one of the most splendid of supposed Saxon MSS. among a variety of other particulars agreeing with the account we have given, ascribes Sebert's foundation to the year 604. This, and a charter by Dunstan, are preserved among the archives of the Abbey. Dunstan's charter names Alfred among the benefactors to Westminster. According to William of Malmesbury and another writer, the church having at this period been restored, Dunstan brought hither twelve (Benedictine) monks, and made one of his favourites, Wulsinus, a man whom he is said to have shorn a monk with his own hands, Abbot.

Still the Abbey-church and buildings were but small, and comparatively unworthy of the distinguished honour which St. Peter had so condescendingly conferred; and the monks no doubt pondered over the means by which a more magnificent structure might be obtained. An opportunity at last offered in the reign of the Confessor. Whilst Edward was in exile during the Danish usurpation, he vowed a pilgrimage to Rome, if God should please to restore him to his crown. He was restored; and then, mindful of his vow, assembled his principal nobility soon after his coronation, and declared his purpose. By them he was persuaded, however, to send an embassy to Rome to procure absolution from the vow. The embassy was successful; and the Pope merely enjoined that the King should spend the sums intended for his journey in the foundation or reparation of some religious house dedicated to St. Peter. It was precisely at the time these particulars got abroad that a monk of Westminster Abbey, named Wulsine, a man of great simplicity of manners and sanctity, had a remarkable dream. Whilst asleep one day, St. Peter appeared to him, to bid him acquaint the King that he should restore his (Wulsine's) church: and, with that noticeable minuteness which characterises unfortunately only those stories of our early times which we are most disposed to doubt, we have the very words of

the Apostle recorded:-" There is," said he, "a place of mine in the west part of London, which I chose, and love, and which I formerly consecrated with my own hands, honoured with my presence, and made illustrious by my miracles. The name of the place is Thorney; which having, for the sins of the people, been given to the power of the barbarians, from rich is become poor, from stately low, and from honourable is made despicable. This let the King, by my command, restore and make a dwelling of monks, stately build, and amply endow it shall be no less than the house of God and the gates of Heaven."* The dream was no doubt just the thing for the credulous monarch, who might have been otherwise puzzled where to bestow his benefactions, and he immediately commenced his task in an earnest and magnificent spirit. Instead of confining himself to the expenditure enjoined, he ordered a tenth part of his property of every kind to be set apart for the new abbey ; he enlarged the number of monks; a new and no doubt grander style of architecture was adopted-Matthew Paris says it was built novo compositionis genere; and, when it was finished, Edward bestowed on it a set of relics which were alone sufficient in the eleventh century to make the fortune of any monastery, and which must have rendered Westminster the envy of most of the other religious houses of Britain. They comprised, says Dart, in his history of the Abbey, "part of the place and manger where Christ was born, and also of the frankincense offered to him by the Eastern Magi; of the table of our Lord; of the bread which he blessed; of the seat where he was presented in the Temple; of the wilderness where he fasted; of the gaol where he was imprisoned; of his undivided garment; of the sponge, lance, and scourge with which he was tortured; of the sepulchre, and cloth that bound his head ;" and so on, through not only Christ's own history, but, in a lesser degree, through that of his mother, his apostles, and the most famous abbots and saints. Of the Confessor's building we have fortunately an interesting and perfect remain in the Pix Office and the adjoining parts against the east cloister and the south transept. As we may here suppose, the architecture is grand in its chief features, but strikingly plain in details, with the exception of the capitals, which are handsomely sculptured. The original edifice was built in the form of a cross, with a high central tower. When the work was finished, Edward designed its consecration under circumstances of unusual splendour. He summoned all his chief nobility and clergy to be present: but, before the time appointed, he fell ill on the evening of Christmas-day. By this time his heart was greatly set upon putting the seal to his goodly work in the manner he had designed; so he hastened his preparations; but on the day appointed, the Festival of the Innocents, he was unable to leave his chamber, consequently Queen Editha presided at the ceremony. He died almost immediately after, and was buried in the church.

From the death of the Confessor to the reign of Henry III. the history of the Abbey is chiefly confined to the lives and characters of its Abbots, of whom our space will allow us to mention only the most noticeable, and those briefly. Gervais de Blois, a natural son of King Stephen, who had well-nigh ruined the Monastery by his mal-administration, was abbot from 1140 to 1160, and was succeeded by Laurentius, who, to a great extent, repaired the mischiefs of De Blois' abbacy, and who obtained the canonisation of King Edward. He also obtained, what seems to have been a great object of ambition with the abbots of his period, permission from the Pope to wear the mitre (which subsequently entitled the abbots to sit in Parliament),

* Translation from Ailred of Riveaulx, in Neale's 'Westminster Abbey.'
+ Dart's Westmonasterium.'

ring, and gloves, which the bishops considered especially the insignia of their superior authority, but died before he could enjoy the coveted honour. His successor, Walter, obtained the additional privilege of using the dalmatica, tunic, and sandals, and was about to exercise his privilege for the first time in a Synod, when the Pope's Nuncio, then in the Abbey, where he thought he had not been received with sufficient respect, interdicted him. Walter's abbacy is remarkable for a curious and somewhat unseemly quarrel in the Abbey, at the sitting of a Synod in 1176. Holinshed writes-" About Mid-Lent the King [Henry II.], with his son and the Legate, came to London, where, at Westminster, a Convocation of the Clergy was called; but when the Legate was set, and the Archbishop of Canterbury on his right hand as Primate of the realm, the Archbishop of York, coming in, and disdaining to sit on the left, where he might seem to give pre-eminence unto the Archbishop of Canterbury (unmannerly enough, indeed), swasht him down, meaning to thrust himself in betwixt the Legate and the Archbishop of Canterbury. And when belike the said Archbishop of Canterbury was loth to remove, he set himself just in his lap; but he scarcely touched the Archbishop's skirt, when the Bishops and other Chaplains, with their servants, stept to him, pulled him away, and threw him to the ground; and, beginning to lay on him with bats and fists, the Archbishop of Canterbury, yielding good for evil, sought to save him from their hands. Thus was verified in him that said sentence, Nunquam periclum sine periculo vincitur. The Archbishop of York, with his rent rochet, got up, and away he went to the King with a great complaint against the Archbishop of Canterbury. But when, upon examination of the matter, the truth was known, he was well laughed at for his labour, and that was all the remedy he got. As he departed so bebuffeted forth of the Convocation-house towards the King, they cried upon him, ‘Go, traitor; thou diddest betray that holy man, Thomas: go, get thee hence; thy hands yet stink of blood!'" To what particular act of the Archbishop of York against his old enemy, Becket, the monks here allude, we know not; but the malignity of his feelings toward him is evident from various circumstances among the rest, his notice of the murder. When the news reached him, he ascended the pulpit and announced it to the congregation as an act of Divine vengeance, saying Becket had perished in his guilt and pride like Pharaoh.

We now reach the reign of the King to whom we are indebted for the greater portion of the existing Cathedral, Henry III. From a boy he seems to have been interested in the place; for whilst yet but thirteen years old we find him called the Founder of the Lady Chapel (on the site of the present Henry VII.'s Chapel), and the first stone of which he laid on Whitsun Eve, 1221, in the abbacy of Humez. Twenty-five years afterwards Henry commenced more extensive works; he pulled down, according to Matthew Paris, the east end, the tower, and the transept, in order that they might be rebuilt in a more magnificent style. The lightness, beauty, and variety, as well as the grandeur, of pointed architecture, recently introduced, was now to be exchanged for the comparatively cumbrous and simple impressiveness of the Anglo-Norman edifice. Crokesley, at first an archdeacon only, was made one of the treasurers, and, probably from his zeal in the prosecution of the King's object, abbot, on the death of Berking, in 1246. During his abbacy great progress was made. The King, among other benefactions, gave, in 1246, £2591 due from the widow of one David of Oxford, a Jew; and in 1254 the Barons of the Exchequer were directed to pay annually 3000 marks. Rich ornaments also were made by his own goldsmith for the use of the Church. In the twenty-eighth year of his reign he directed Fitz Odo

* We have taken the liberty here to alter plain-speaking Holinshed's phrase.

to make a "dragon, in manner of a standard or ensign of red samit, to be embroidered with gold, and his tongue to appear as continually moving, and his eyes of sapphires, or other stones agreeable to him, to be placed in the Church against the King's coming thither." Two years later the Keeper of the Exchequer is ordered to "buy as precious a mitre as could be found in the City of London for the Abbot of Westminster's use; and also one great crown of silver to set wax candles upon in the said Church." In addition to his own direct assistance, and the assistance of his nobles, impelled by his example, the King, no doubt at the suggestion of the Monastery, adopted a curious mode of stimulating the popular excitement on the subject, and we should suppose with the most satisfactory results. In 1247, on St. Edward's Day, he set out with his nobles in splendid procession towards St. Paul's, where he received the precious relique which had been sent for him from Jerusalem by the Masters of the Temple and the Hospitallers, and which he munificently designed to deposit in the Abbey of Westminster: this was no less than a portion of the blood which issued from Christ's wounds at the Crucifixion. It was deposited in a crystalline lens, which Henry himself bore under a canopy, supported with four staves, through the streets of London, from St. Paul's to the Abbey. His arms were supported by two nobles all the way. Holinshed says, that to "describe the whole course and order of the procession and feast kept that day would require a special treatise; but this is not to be forgotten, that the same day the Bishop of Norwich preached before the King in commendation of that relic, pronouncing six years and one hundred and sixteen days of pardon granted by the bishops there to all that came to reverence it." We need hardly add that those who did come were seldom empty-handed. To give still greater distinction to the ceremony, Henry, the same day, knighted his half-brother, William de Valence, and "divers other young bachelors." This was one mode, and, if he had faith in the essentials of the act performed, it was as cheap and efficacious as it was unobjectionable. But we cannot say so of his next act of beneficence to the Abbey. In 1248 he granted, evidently with the same object, a fair of a very extraordinary kind to the Abbot, to be held at Tut or Tot Hill, at St. Edward's tide, when all other fairs were ordered to be closed, and not only them, but all the shops of London, during the several days of its continuance. The object was to draw the entire trade of London to the spot for the time; and although the citizens and merchants were much inconvenienced, the fair succeeded so well as to be repeated in 1252; "which thing, by reason of the foul weather chancing at that time, was very grievous unto them (the citizens); albeit there was such repair of people thither, that London had not been fuller to the judgment of old ancient men never at any time in their days to their remembrance." By all these different methods, a sum of nearly £30,000-an enormous sum, if reckoned at its present value-was raised, and applied to the rebuilding of the Abbey, in about fifteen years: when it was still unfinished.

The quarrels between Abbot Crokesley and the King during the latter part of the abbacy probably retarded the progress of the work. Crokesley appears to have first lost Henry's favour through a somewhat paltry act, the endeavouring to set aside an agreement made by the late Abbot to enlarge the allowance of the monks. In the course of the dispute Crokesley threatened to appeal to the Pope, whilst Henry, on his part, declared the goods of the convent to be separate from those of the Abbot, and actually caused proclamation to be made that no person should lend the Abbot money, nor take his note or seal for security. They gradually, however, became again friendly, and, in 1258, Crokesley set an example to the other religious houses of England, which, by the by, they declined following, of assisting Henry in his struggles with De Montfort and the barons by entering into an obligation for 2500 marks.