a sum of money for the maintenance of a wax taper to be burnt perpetually before the image of the Blessed Virgin in the vetusta ecclesia; thus indicating that it was entirely distinct from the greater edifice of SS. Peter and Paul. But in the year 1184 a great calamity occurred at Glastonbury; the whole monastery was destroyed by fire, with the exception of the chapel and one chamber, which served as a refuge for the monks; the beautiful church shared the same fate, with its treasures and a large proportion of the venerated relics. After this lamentable event, the brethren were desirous of discovering the relics of St. Dunstan, and the secret of their interment not having been lost, the pavement was raised and beneath it the coffin containing them was found intact. Not only did the presence of the relics of St. Dunstan (at one time a most popular saint in England) attract many pilgrims to the shrine at Glastonbury, the tradition of Joseph of Arimathea's burial in the monks' cemetery led many devout persons to journey thither. The authority on which this belief rests are the words of an ancient British historian and bard, who writes: "The disciples of St. Philip died in succession, and were buried in the cemetery; among them Joseph of Marmore, named of Arimathea, receives perpetual sleep. He lies near the south corner of the oratorio which is built of hurdles," The positive manner in which John Glaston, an historian of the fifteenth century, wrote in confirmation of the legend, caused the ancient name of St. Mary's Chapel to be changed into Joseph's Chapel, the appellation still attached to the beautiful ruins of the once favored sanctuary, not because it was dedicated to him, but because he originally erected it. The legend of the coming of Joseph of Arimathea has been immortalized in poetry as well as in prose, for not only was it he who first introduced the Christian faith into Britain, he is also said to have brought thither the Holy Grail (Sangreal), the chalice used by our Redeemer at the institution of the Blessed Sacrament, or, as others say, the vessel wherein Joseph collected some of the Precious Blood shed upon the cross. Spenser, in the Faerie Queene (Book 12, Canto xliii.), writing in the sixteenth century, speaking of King Lucius, mentions this tradition : Who first received Christianity, The sacred pledge of Christ's Evangely; Yet true it is, that long before that day, Hither came Joseph of Arimathy, Who brought with him the Holy Grayle (they say), And in Tennyson's poem the following lines are found: Blossoms at Christmas, mindful of our Lord. The Holy Grail was probably lost at the suppression of the monastery in Henry VIII.'s reign. The Holy Thorn, alluded to above, still exists in the Abbey precincts. Tradition asserts that when Joseph of Arimathea and his eleven companions, travel-worn and weary, reached the hill overlooking the Isle of Avalon, he planted there his pilgrim's staff. A stone now marks the spot where that staff struck root and budded. There for many centuries it flourished, always blossoming on Christmas Day. It branched into two trunks, the larger of which was cut down in the reign of Queen Elizabeth by a Puritan, who was only prevented from cutting down the other by an ill-aimed blow wounding his leg, and a thorn piercing his eye. The remaining stem was hewn down, at the time of the great rebellion, by a fanatical soldier as a Popish relic. The Holy Thorn, a variety of the hawthorn, cratagus, was famous abroad as well as in England; the Bristol merchants did a considerable trade by selling blossoms and leaves gathered from it. The tree propagated from the original one flowers twice a year; the winter blossoms, which it puts forth at Christmas-time, are about twice as large as those of the ordinary hawthorn. The Holy Well, situated in an arched recess on the south side of the crypt, outside the foundation wall of the now ruined. abbey, is said also to derive its origin from Joseph of Arimathea, who by striking the ground with his staff, is said to have caused a stream of water to well up for the refreshment of the weary travelers. This spring, the existence of which was forgotten for several centuries, was in early times noted for the miraculous cures effected by its waters; many pilgrims journeyed thither to seek the aid of its healing power. The well was discovered in 1825 by a party of antiquarians searching for hidden antiquities. Whilst at work in the crypt, then choked up with rubbish, they came upon a flight of steps leading to the subterranean recess, where, at about ten or twelve feet below the surface of the ground, was the well, measuring two feet two inches in diameter; the spring which supplies it is still flowing. The disastrous fire which destroyed the vetusta ecclesia of the Blessed Virgin at Glastonbury, also ruined the major ecclesia of SS. Peter and Paul, and the beautiful monastic edifice built by the munificence of Bishop Henry de Blois. The then King, Henry II., lost no time in rebuilding the church on a scale of great magnificence. He did not live to complete it, and after his death no funds were forthcoming to carry on the work, so that a period of a hundred and nineteen years elapsed before it was dedicated. Several successive abbots contributed to adorn and beautify the interior; the nave was vaulted and ornamented with splendid painting; the high altar was decorated with an image of our Blessed Lady in a tabernacle described as of the highest workmanship; the "six goodly windows" on each side of the choir were glazed-an uncommon luxury in those days; the great clock, the elegant choir screen and rood were added as years went on, as well as rich monuments and shrines. Of this once magnificent structure a long wall with a turret at each end, two finely carved doorways, and a few other ruins alone are left standing. The Abbey clock, which was placed in the south transept of the great church, was, according to the historian, "remarkable for its possessions and spectacles." At the dissolution of the monastery, in 1539, it was taken to Wells, where it may be seen in the cathedral to this day. It is the oldest known clock, dating from the early part of the fourteenth century. The dial plate, six feet six inches in diameter, is contained in a square frame, and divided into three circles, marking the twenty-four hours of the day, the minutes, and the age of the moon. Above the dial figures of knights in armor, set in motion by machinery, represent a mimic tournament every hour on the striking of the bell. On the face of the clock are the words: Ne quid VOL. LXXXVI.-22 pereat, with the name of the maker: Petrus Lightfoot, monachus, fecit hoc opus. The monastery was also rebuilt on a grand scale, to judge by its ruins. It was enclosed by a high wall, which contained sixty acres within its circuit, and was complete in all its arrangements. The Abbot occupied a separate dwelling, south of the great hall. In the dormitory each monk occupied a separate chamber, in which was a narrow bedstead with a straw bed, a coarse blanket and bolster of straw or flock. By the bedside was a kneeling-desk with a crucifix over it; besides another desk and table with shelves and drawers for books and papers, and one chair. In the corridors and in the middle of each dortoir were cressets or lanterns, wrought in stone with lights in them to give light to the monks when they rose at night to say matins. The above quotation is taken from Dugdale's Monasticon, Ed. 1655, in which a full description is given of each part of the monastery. In the guest-house all travelers were received, from the prince to the peasant, and entertained according to their rank and quality. The monks were bound to show this hospitality by the fifty-third chapter of their rule, wherein they are commanded to receive all comers as they would Christ himself, who will hereafter say: "I was a stranger and ye took Me in." The wooden cup used as a grace-cup by the monks after dinner is preserved at Wardour Castle. It is of Anglo-Saxon workmanship, and tradition asserts it to have been carved out of a piece of the Holy Thorn. The bowl, on which are figures of the twelve Apostles, rests on crouching lions; on the lid the crucifixion is carved, with the Blessed Virgin and St. John. The cup holds two quarts and originally had eight pegs fixed one above another inside, dividing its contents into equal quantities of half-a-pint. This arrangement led to such vessels being called by the name of peg-tankards. The inventory made by the Royal Commissioners in 1535 shows the ornaments of the church, the jewels, the gold and silver plate, to have been of very great value. They were all delivered to the king, who himself acknowledged the receipt of them. The report of the Commissioners testifies to the good management of the Abbey by the Abbot Whiting, yet it shared the fate of all other religious houses at that unhappy time, when a storm of unbelief swept over the Church, and many of the venerable institutions she had founded went down in the destructive cataclysm. The end of the last Abbot of Glastonbury, Richard Whiting, is pathetically described in a sermon preached by the Bishop of Clifton, on occasion of opening the new choir of Downside Abbey, September, 1905, from which the following extract is taken. Of all the touching and tragic scenes that were enacted during that bloody epoch, surely none is more replete with tragedy, or moves our pity more, than that which was perpetrated on a day in November of the year 1539, not many miles from the spot on which the modern Abbey of Downside stands. On a lonely eminence dominating the fair champaign below, as it stretches to the waters of the channel, may be seen a comely and venerable old man, over whose head eighty summers have passed. Around him press his executioners, busily arranging the ghastly apparatus of a felon's death. The gallows has been erected near the tower of St. Michael's (now vanished) church; the boiling cauldron and butcher's knife are ready. Naught has been brought or proven against the old man, save that he will not forfeit his allegiance to the Vicar of Christ; or yield up his Abbey. He has led a blameless life, a holy life; he is beloved by all the countryside, over which he ruled with a father's sway. He is the last of the long line of Abbots of Glaston, and this spot of vantage from which he is compelled to look down upon his beloved Abbey has been brutally chosen for his murder, that he may drain the cup of bitterness to the dregs. "He took his death very patiently," wrote an unfeeling eye-witness of the butchery; but had we been there, and had it been given to us to know the varied emotions of his heart as he ascended the fatal ladder, what despondency joined with resignation, what fear mingled with love, what joy, yet merging in a sea of sorrow, should we not have found there. He clearly saw that soon the floodgates of error would be opened wide, and the waters of destruction sweep away long-cherished beliefs, banishing rites and ordinances that had been channels of grace to the people for a thousand years. The clean oblation, the holy sacrifice, would be abolished; no more would the sacred, time-honored chant resound along the aisles of his well-loved church, where the bodies of the saints reposed; their shrines |