OF NETLEY.] GOOD CHEER OF THE ABBEYS. 321 a short period before the Dissolution, or afterwards, when it was first made a private habitation. At some distance behind the abbey, the monks had two fish-ponds, which are still in perfect preservation. The first is nearly square, bordered with underwood, and backed with flourishing oaks. The upper pond is still more picturesque, being partly overhung with fine trees. The neighbourhood of Netley Abbey was perhaps more thickly wooded in ancient times than at present. In the stewards' book of the town of Southampton, under the year 1469, is an entry of two pounds, three shillings, and fourpence, " paid to the Abbot of Netteley for a grove of woode bought by the maire for to make piles and hegges by the sea syde." The English monks, in selecting the sites of their houses, always endeavoured to secure a good supply of fish and game. The woods and waters in the neighbourhood of Netley were peculiarly advantageous in this point of view, and the Buttery and Kitchen must have been abundantly furnished with every article of provision which could raise the appetites of the brethren within. The manuscripts of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, although written by the monks themselves, are full of stories illustrating their attachment to good living. Giraldus Cambrensis, the historian from whom we have already quoted one anecdote of monastic life, gives us a remarkable description of the multitude and variety of CESARCEAT dishes with which the tables of the monks in his days were loaded; the numerous kinds of fish and meats dressed in every possible manner, and arranged by the ingenuity of skilful cooks so as to provoke their pampered appetites; the numerous savoury sauces; the rich and rare wines which were supplied by distant lands*. This writer has preserved an amusing story *Tot enim videas piscium genera, assa quidem et elixa, farta et frixa; tot ovis et pipere cibaria cocorum arte confecta; tot sapores et salsamenta ad gulam VOL. I. irritandam et appetitum excitandum eorundem arte composita. Ad hæc etiam in tanta abundantia vinum hic videas et ciceram, pigmentum, claretum, mustum, TT concerning the monks of St. Swithun's at Winchester:-One day, when King Henry II. was hunting in the neighbourhood of Guilford, the prior of St. Swithun's, accompanied by a party of his monks, went to meet him, with countenances which indicated extreme chagrin and sorrow, and, although the spot was little better than a quagmire, they fell upon their knees in a position of the most abject supplication. When the king desired them to state their griefs, they told him that their bishop had diminished the number of courses that had been from time immemorial served to their table. The king inquired what number of courses were usually allowed them they said, thirteen, which the bishop had reduced to ten. The king, in astonishment, turned round to his attendants:-" Per oculos Dei!" said he, (for that was his usual oath,) "see here these unhappy monks! I thought by their sorrowful looks that their whole monastery had been burnt, or that some equal disaster had befallen them; and behold, they complain that their bishop has taken three courses from their table, and left them but ten. May the bishop fare the worse, if he do not immediately take away the ten, and leave them only three! I, although King of England, am satisfied with that number." We are told in another monkish story of an abbot who was so cruel to his monks, that he reduced them to the number here recommended by the king, and allowed them but three courses: the monks prayed daily for the death of their superior; and for this or some other cause he soon died. Another came, who reduced them to two: whereupon they prayed more fervently than ever for release from his rule. He also died, and there came a third, who deprived them of another course. The unfortunate brethren, now driven to desperation, met together to consider what was best to be done. One among the rest stepped forward and said, "Happen what will, let us pray no longer: every time we have prayed for a new abbot, we have obtained one worse than his predecessor; and if this man should go, we shall have one who will reduce us to actual starvation." Against the monkish vice of gluttony, we must however place in the scale the virtue of hospitality. The weary traveller was always welcome to the table of the monastery. We are tempted to quote another monkish story. It is said that a certain religious house, in which the virtue just alluded to had been neglected, was reduced to poverty, and a meeting was held in the chapterhouse to deliberate on the means of regaining their former state. Then a monk stood up in the midst of the others, and said, "We have driven away et medonem, atque moretum, et omne quod inebriare potest, adeo ut cervisia qualis in Anglia fieri solet optima, et præcipue in Cantia, locum inter cætera non haberet; sed hoc ibi cervisia inter pocula, quod olus inter fercula.-Giraldus Cambr. Specul. Eccles. in MS. Cotton. He is here speaking of the Cistercian monks of Canterbury. OF NETLEY.] THE CONFESSIONAL-ABSOLUTION. 323 two servants: as long as they were with us, all good things abounded in our house; since they went, our prosperity is defeated; but if we invite one back, they will both return." "Who are they?" said the abbot; "let us call them back by all means." The monk answered, "One is called Date, and the other Dabitur-bobis: since we drove away Date, Dabitur-vobis has left us; but let us immediately recal Date, and Dabiturvobis, and everything will be well." The monks themselves had an easy method of atoning for the peccadilloes of the table; but a few paces from the refectory stood the Confessional, and there they received a ready Absolution. The ruins of Netley Abbey attract numerous visitors from the neighbouring town of South ampton; and there is scarcely a stone within the reach of ordinary mortals which is not disfigured by a crowd of initials rudely "incised" by their barbarian and sacrilegious hands. In more propitious times, pilgrims of a holier class have visited the hallowed spot, "Where Netley's ruins, bordering on the flood, Horace Walpole was enraptured with what he terms, " not the ruins of Netley, but of Paradise. Oh, the purpled abbots; what a spot they had chosen to slumber in! The scene is so beautifully tranquil, yet so lively, that they seem only to have retired into the world." When he visited Netley, there were standing “fragments of beautiful fretted roofs, pendent in the air, with all variety of Gothic patterns of windows topped round and round with ivy." The last remains of the "fretted roof" have long fallen; and, as we have before observed, most of the windows have, since Walpole's time, been stripped of their ivy. Among the poets who have here sought inspiration, we must not pass over the names of Gray and Bowles. The former has left us a glowing description of the thoughts which these ruins raised-" In the bosom of the woods," he tells us in one of his letters, " concealed from profane eyes, lie hidden the ruins of Netley Abbey. There may be richer and greater houses of religion, but the abbot is content with his situation. See there, at the top of that hanging meadow, under the shade of those old trees that bend into a half-circle about it, he is walking slowly (good man!) and bidding his beads for the souls of his benefactors, interred in that venerable pile that lies beneath him. Beyond it (the meadow still descending), nods a thicket of oaks that mask the building, and have excluded a view too garish and luxuriant for a holy eye; only on either hand they leave an opening to the blue glittering sea. Did you not observe how, as that white sail shot by and was lost, he turned and crossed himself, to drive the tempter from him, that had thrown that distraction in his way?" We must ourselves now take a parting glance of this venerable picture of the transitoriness of all earthly greatness. Bowles has given us a beautiful sonnet ON VISITING NETLEY ABBEY. On this world's passing pageant, and the lot Of those who once might proudly in their prime They might have sunk, like thee: though thus, forlorn, Besprent, majestic yet, and as in scorn Of mortal vanities and short-lived cares : Even so dost thou, lifting thy forehead grey, Smile at the tempest and Time's sweeping sway." Historical Associations.-The neighbourhood of Netley is interesting in many points of view to the antiquary. At some distance to the north is the modern village of Bittern, the site of the Roman town of Clausentum, of the earth-works of which some traces still remain. On Netley Heath, which lies between Netley and Bittern, are numerous tumuli, probably indicating the places of burial of some of the more distinguished of the Roman inhabitants of this spot. We trace the footsteps of that extraordinary people almost within the precincts of Netley Abbey; for in its immediate vicinity, in a field by the shore near West Wood, a few years ago, a coarse earthen vessel, filled with Roman coins of the Lower Empire, was dug up by a labourer. The larger portion of these coins was of the description called small brass, and of the period of the younger Gallienus. After Clausentum had been deserted and forgotten, its importance was transferred to the neighbouring town of Hamton, known in more modern |