A Legend of Reading Abbey Page 5

  V.

  When baptized Christian men did steal the children of other Christianmen, yea, and torture and slay them, no marvel was it that theunconverted Israelites, who had been allowed to come into the land ingreat numbers since the Norman conquest, should do deeds of the likesort. So it was, that in King Stephen's reign the rich Jews of Norwichdid buy a Christian child from its poor parents a little before Easter,and on the Long Friday, when the church was mourning for the crucifixionof our Lord, they tortured him after the same manner as our Lord wastortured, and did nail him on a rood in mockery of our Saviour; andafterwards buried him. These sacrilegious and cruel Jews thought thattheir horrible crime would be concealed, but it was revealed from above,and the people of Norwich smote the Jews and tortured them as theymerited; and the Lord showed that the Christian child was a holy martyr:and the monks took him and buried him with all honour and reverence inNorwich Minster; and he is called Saint William, and through our Lordwonderful miracles are wrought at his tomb even in our own day, and hisfestival is kept with becoming solemnity on the twenty-fifth of thekalends of March.

  Sad and sinful was it for Christian parents to sell their children toJew, or even to Gentile. The evil practice had once been common inEngland, and in the port of Bristowe children were once sold in greatnumbers to be carried into Ireland and elsewhere; but the church had putdown the unnatural traffic, and when King Stephen came to the throne nofreeman would have sold his child. But want and hunger now severed thenatural tie, and starving parents sold their starving children ratherthan see them die before their eyes and they unable to help them. Yea,frantic mothers would give their infants from their dried-up breasts toany strangers that would promise to nourish them. _Horresco repetens!_ Ido shudder in the telling of it, but so it was. Fair English childrenwere again sold to traffickers on the western coast, who carried theminto Ireland, and in such numbers that the slave-market of the Irishrywas all over-stocked with them. In the happy and plentiful days whichnow be in the land such things are hard to believe; but I, as a novice,did often see them with mine own eyes, and the causes that ledthereunto. Yea, have I seen the poor people of England roaming by thewayside and eating garbage which scarcely the fox or the foul birds ofthe air would touch, rambling in the woods and fields in search of rootsand berries, ay, grazing on the bank-side like cattle, or that greatsinner Nebuchadnezzar; for flocks and herds were swept away, andslaughtered, and wasted by the armed bands that ever ranged the country,or were kept penned up within the castles of the strong men--thosepestilent barons and knights that were now for Matilda and now forStephen, and always for plunder and all crime, living and fatteningupon great and bloody thievings--_magna et sanguineolentia latrocinia_:and the fields could not be cultivated because of the continual passingand repassing, and burning, and fighting, and slaying of these armedhosts and bands of robbers, who did worse than the heathen had everdone; for after a time they spared neither church nor churchyard,neither a bishop's land nor an abbat's land, and not more the lands of apriest than the fields of a franklin, but plundered both monks andclerks! And so it came to pass that nearly every man that could, robbedanother, and carried away his wife or daughter, and did with her what helist. If two men or three came riding to a town, all the township fled,concluding them to be robbers. Some of our bishops and learned mencontinually did excommunicate them and curse them; but the effectthereof was nought, for they were one and all accursed, and forsworn,and abandoned; and grieves me to say that too many bishops and churchmenwere men of violent and unsteady councils and castle-buildersthemselves, waging war like the lay lords, and being as void as they ofsteadiness and loyalty, and mercy for the people. Verily I myself haveseen prelates clad in armour and mounted on war-horses, even as at thetime of the Conquest, and in that guise directing the siege or theattack, or drawing lots with the rest for the booty. The strong menconstantly laid gilds on the towns, and called it by a Norman name whichsignifyeth _torture_; and when the poor townfolk had no more to give,then they plundered and burned the towns; so that thou mightest go awhole day's journey and never behold a man sitting in a town or see afield that was tilled. To till the ground was as useless as to ploughthe sea, for no man could hope to reap that which he sowed. Thus theearth bare little or no corn; and bread became of a fearful dear price;and flesh, and cheese, and butter were there none for the poor. Ay,franklins who had been rich men, and who had kept good house and beenbountiful to the poor and to mother church, were seen begging alms onthe road. Many of the poorest died of hunger on a soil which God hadblessed with fertility, but which sinful men had turned into awilderness; and many, going distraught, threw themselves into therivers, or hanged themselves in the woods. This was greater woe thanEngland had witnessed during the long wars of the Norman conquest; andit was in this abyss of misery that fathers and mothers sold theirchildren.

  On the morning after his going to Caversham Sir Alain de Bohun returnedunto our house with the knights who had gone with him; and before it wastime to begin the service of tertia in the church, he and all thecompany, as well foot as horse, marched away to the north-west. Theyintended for Oxenford, but did not take the direct road; for they hadlearned from scouts that Matilda's party had been strengthened by somebands from the eastward, and Sir Alain and his friends hoped to get anincrease of strength in the westward before they turned round upon thecountess. But while the partisans of King Stephen were marching to thewestward and gaining great strength on the borders of Wiltshire, theCountess of Anjou suddenly decamped from Oxenford and began a march forWinchester, for she had at length conceived suspicion and alarm at theconduct of the Bishop of Winchester, the king's brother, and our lordthe pope's legate. Intending to pass through Berkshire into Hampshireand unto Winchester, she took her course by Cumnor, Abingdon, andWallingford. The news of her approach was a death-blow to our goodabbat. He had been for some time past declining. He could not away withthe thought of Matilda's evil doings unto our house. Being a manformerly addicted to hospitality, good company, cheerful conversation,music, and innocent mirth, he was observed to forsake all this with muchmelancholy and pensiveness, and so to droop and pine away; but yet wasit the news of the countess's coming that gave the finishing stroke.Eheu! and Miserrimus! A better monk or a nobler lord abbat was neverslain by princely violence and the wickedness of excommunicate men. Hewas at Sir Alain de Bohun's castle, and I and Philip the lay-brotherwere in attendance upon him when our scouts brought the intelligencethat Matilda was at Abingdon with the heads of her columns pointingalong the road towards Reading. The good, kind-hearted man had gone toCaversham in order to console the Ladie Alfgiva, whom he found, likeRachel, mourning for her children, yet not mourning like one that wouldnot be comforted. But comfortless and sad was the face of our lord abbatwhen he gave his niece the parting blessing, and warned her to look wellto her castle, and bade the warder to keep close the gates, and notadmit so much as a strange dog within the walls. There had been a slowfever in his veins ever since the bad visit of the Angevin countess, andnow his limbs shook and his eyes seemed to swim in his head, and he hadmuch ado to mount the rough upland horse which had been procured forhim in lieu of his gentle-paced palfrey. "Felix, my boy," said he untome as we descended the slopes of Caversham towards the river, "rideclose to my bridle-hand, for I am faint, and a heavy sickness is upon myheart." As he rode across the meads, the breeze, which blew freshly andcoolly from the broad river, did somewhat revive him; but anon hecomplained of the rough motion of his steed, and gently lamented theloss of his ambling grey, which Matilda had stolen from him so foully.When near to the great gate of the abbey he turned round and lookedtowards the river and the Caversham hills that were shining in thesetting sun; and then, as he went under the archway, I saw tears dropfrom his eyes, and I heard him mutter to himself, "'Tis a rightbeauteous sight, but I shall see it no more." And that night, and beforethe middle watches thereof, praying for the community of Reading and allEngland besides, and imploring the saints to protect the house atCaversham and the t
wo sweet children, he turned his face to the wall anddied, to the unspeakable grief of every honest member of the house. Heleft this troubled world in such good repute as a virtuous and holy man,that assuredly he merited beatification, if not the higher glories ofcanonization.--_In Domino moritur._

  Before going to his bed, our good abbat held council with all theobedientiarii and sworn monks of the abbey, and I was of the number ofthose who thought that this exertion, and his long and anxious speaking,hastened his demise. His opinions were, that the monks ought to keepclose their gates, and call in their retainers and some of the townfolkof Reading to help them to defend the house; that Matilda could nottarry long for a siege or any other object, as Sir Alain de Bohun andhis party would soon retrace their steps; and that the monks, havingmade good their house by standing on the defensive, should remainneutral in the horrible war, taking no step and raising no voice eitherfor King Stephen or Queen Matilda, until they saw what course was takenby the pope's legate or a synod of the church. All present at thiscouncil, whether cloister monks or monks holding office, agreed thatthis advice was the best that could be given, and protested that theywould follow it; and Hildebrand, the sub-prior, was the loudest of anyin his prayers that St. James and St. John the Evangelist, patrons ofour house, would long preserve the life of our good old abbat, who hadgoverned the abbey for many years with great wisdom and gentleness; and,sooth to say, in all that time he had ruled as a fond father rules hisown children, and never did he sadden the heart of an honest man andfaithful servant of the church, or cause a tear to flow until he died.

  But, woe the while! the wickedness, the treachery, and malice of thetimes, had spread themselves on every side and to every community; andsome members of our once quiet and loving brotherhood there were thathid Judas hearts under fawning countenances; and before the passing bellceased to toll for our abbat's death, these unhappy men took secretcouncil with one another, and resolved to act in a manner altogetherdifferent from that which had been advised, and that which they hadpromised and vowed to follow. And, lo! on the second evening after thedeath of our good abbat, when the Angevin woman and her host came againunto our house, like a whirlwind, with lances in the air, and clouds ofdust rolling before their path, the sub-prior and his fautors, includingas well some of the franklins and retainers, as monks and novices, andlay brothers of the abbey, did drive away the other party, and lower ourdraw-bridge, and throw wide open our great gate, and sing hosannas, andcry, "Long live the empress-queen! God bless the sweet face of QueenMatilda, the lawful sovereign of this realm!" And again Matilda camewithin the cloisters, and took possession of our house with her lawlessmen of war and her gadabout damsels. This time they could not rob, forwe had not the wherewithal, unless they took our gowns, hoods, andsandals, and our flesh and bones; but they did worse things than steal.Matilda ordered that on the instant the fathers of the house shouldproceed to elect and appoint a new abbat.

  "Dread ladie," said Reginald, our prior, now the highest in office,"This cannot be! It is against the rules of our order; it is against thecanons of holy church; it is against the feelings of humanity; it iscontrary to common decency! Our late lord abbat lies as yet unburiedwithin our walls. He must be first interred honorably, and as becomeththe dignity of the house; and before we, the fathers of the house, canopen a Chapter, many masses of requiem must be said, and the guidance ofthe Spirit must be invoked to help us in our election, and notice mustbe sent unto the head of our order, and alms must be given unto thepoor. Albeit, I see not what alms we can give, since our house hath beenso----"

  "Rebel monk," cried Matilda, "reproach not thy queen! But I do perceivethat thou art a fautor of Stephen, like the old rebel that hathdeparted. I told him that the mitre was falling from his head, and I nowtell thee that it shall never drop upon thine."

  "Would that it had pleased the saints to keep it on the head which woreit so long, and with so much honour," said our bold prior. "I neveraimed at it, or had a wish for it. I would not stoop my body, or stretchout my hand, to pick it up, if it lay at my feet. I would never wear itexcept forced so to do by canonical election, and the free and strongwill of my brothers. Matilda, thou that ransackest houses of religion,and the very tomb of thy father, and tramplest on the monks that live topray for the soul of thy father, I would not accept the mitre andcrozier from thee if thou wert to fall on thy knees and implore me to doit! I stand here as an humble but faithful servant of this community--asa lowly member of the great family of St. Benedict; and if I raise myvoice, it is only for the sake of our religion and unchangeable rules.Thy men-at-arms need not grind their teeth, and point their lances atme. I fear them not; and in this cause would face torture and death."

  "By the splendour!" cried Matilda, "we do but waste time in speech withsuch as thou art. I tell thee, thou traitor and malignant, that theelection shall be made forthwith; and that before I quit this house Iwill see an honest man put into the abbatial chair, and confirm himtherein by our royal deed. Thou wilt not question, oh monk, that theelection of a Chapter is nought without the assent and confirmation ofthe lawful sovereign; and as I have weighty matters in hand, and willsoon be far away from Reading, there might be great delay in obtainingmy confirmation if it were not given now."

  At this passage the sub-prior, bowing before Matilda more lowly than hewas ever seen to bow before the effigies of our Ladie in the Ladie'schapel, said yea and verily, and that this last was a weightyconsideration before which the rule of St. Benedict might, in somepoints, give way; and that in times of trouble and discord and anarchylike these we were living in, the royal abbey of Reading could not withsafety be left for a single day without a head.

  This discourse of the sub-prior much chafed our fearless and honestprior, Reginald, who well knew the man and his ungodly designs; butbefore the prior's wrath allowed him to speak, our sacrist brought forththe book and opened the rules of our order, and read the same with anaudible yet gentle voice, and with the same gentleness did show thatmuch time must be allowed for mature deliberation; that a Chapter couldnot be assembled while the house was full of strangers and armed men,for that elections must be free and unbiassed by fear or by any otherworldly consideration; and then he did fall to quoting the charters ofthe Beauclerc, which direct that on the death of a lord abbat possessionof the monastery, with all its rights and privileges, shall remain inthe prior, and at the disposal of the prior and the monks of theChapter, and that none shall in any ways meddle in the election of thenew abbat: and when the sacrist had thus spoken, the cellarer or bursar,the second father of the convent, who had charge of everything relatingto the food of the monks, and who always knew best, by the eating, whowere present and who absent, did beg it might be observed that threecloister monks were absent, one disobediently and contumaciously(meaning hereby Father Anselm, who had absconded with the countess onher previous visit); but two, to wit, the chamberlain and the almoner,on the business of the abbey--and without the votes of these two namedfathers no election could be legal or canonical.

  "But my good cellarius," said the sub-prior, in a very dulcet andpersuasive tone of voice, "it yet behoves us to think of the dangers ofthe times, and to provide for the security of this royal abbey andGod-fearing community, even though we should depart from the rigidletter of some of our minor rules. Remember, oh cellarius, that these bedays of trouble, and that we be living in the midst of discord andanarchy, and treachery, and----"

  "Treachery, quotha! I wis there was no treachery in this community untilthou didst bring it amongst us," cried our prior; "nor did we knowdiscord or anarchy in our abbey, or in any part of the manors andhundreds appertaining unto this house until thou, oh Matilda, didst cometo our gates! Troubles there were around us, and for those troubles thegood men of our house grieved--not without labouring to alleviate them;but we were a quiet community when thou didst come thundering at ourgates, bringing with thee thy subtle maidens and thy violent men of war!and hadst thou never come we had still been at peace. If thou wouldstlisten t
o me now, I would say Get thee gone and cease from troubling us!But _orgeuil mesprise bon conseil_, pride despiseth good counsel, andpride and hardness of heart will lead to thy undoing."

  Tradition reporteth that the wrath of William the Conqueror was a thingfearful to behold; that the rage of the Red King was a consuming fire;and that the slower and stiller but deeper hate of Henry the Beauclercwas like unto the grim visage of death; yet do I doubt whether the wrathof all these three preceding kings, if put all together, could be sodreadful as that which the choleric daughter of the Beauclerc did nowdisplay: and certes the extreme passion of rage in a woman, even whenshe hath not a regal and tyrannical power, is fearful to behold. Fromthe redness of the fire she became pale as ashes; but then she reddenedagain as she shouted "Ho! my men-at-arms, gag me that old traitor!"

  "Tyrannous woman, that the sins of the land have brought into England,the truth will endure and be the same though I speak it not. Thou hastviolated the sanctuary--thou hast dishonoured and plundered the verygrave of thy father! See that he rise not from the grave to rebukethee."

  "Drag the traitor hence; put chains upon him; cast him into thedungeon," cried the unfaithful wife of the Angevin count; and themen-at-arms who had laid their rude hands upon the prior to gag him, diddrag the prior out of the Aula Magna. And when he was gone, Matildaswore oaths too terrible to be repeated, that, seeing she must herselfaway on the morrow, she would leave a garrison of her fiercest fightingmen in the abbey, and devastate all the abbey lands that lay on hermarch, if our fathers did not forthwith elect and appoint a lord abbattrue to her party and obedient to her will. Most of the officials andcloister monks held down their heads and were sore afeard. Not so thesacrist and cellarer, who cried "Charter! Charter!" and repeated thatsuch election could not be, and who were thereupon dragged forth and putin duresse with the bold prior. And now the sub-prior, who never doubtedthat the choice was to fall upon him, did entreat those who had theright of voting to submit to the will of God and the commandment of thequeen, and so save the house from ruin: and some he did terrify, andsome cajole, talking apart with them, and telling them that he would begood lord and indulgent abbat unto them all. At last the timid gave way,and the monks of delicate conscience would resist no longer; and thesub-prior, with a smile upon his countenance, said to Matilda, in hisblandest voice, that the community was ready to elect whomsoever hergrace might be pleased to name.

  "'Tis prudent and wise in the community," said Matilda; and then sheclapped her hands thrice, as great lords or ladies use to do when theywould summon a menial or call in their fool to make them sport; and asshe clapped her hands she said, "Come in, my Lord Abbat elect!"

  And then, from an inner apartment, where he had been listening all thewhile, there glided into the great hall, and stood before us, with anunblushing and complacent countenance, that rule-breaker anddeserter--Father Anselm.

  I did think that our sub-prior would have fallen to the ground in aswoon, for his legs trembled beneath him, and his face became as ashywith grief and disappointment as that of the countess had lately beenwith rage: his eye, fixed immoveably on Father Anselm, became glazed anddull, like the eye of a dead fish, and instead of a cry of wonderment, Iheard a rattling in his throat. But in a while the sub-prior recovered,and ventured to say that the Chapter could by no means elect one who hadbroken his vow of obedience, and who was thereby under censure andinterdict.

  "In absenting myself from the house, I did but obey the command laid onme by the queen's grace," said Father Anselm.

  "Not the sovereign ladie, nay, nor the sovereign lord of the land, cangive such command without the foreknowledge and consent of the LordAbbat, or of the prior in the abbat's absence," said the sub-prior,whose voice was growing bolder; "and dread ladie, I tell thee again,that the chapter cannot elect this monk--I tell thee that I myself willprotest against such choice, and defeat such election."

  "Ha!" cried Matilda, "sayest thou so? Then shalt thou join the otherrebel monks. Men-at-arms, away with him! He but wanted the mitre for hisown ugly head; but my dear mass-priest, thou shalt have it, and none butthee, for I can rely on thy faith and love, and thou art the handsomestmonk that ever shaved a crown or wore a hood." And as she spake the lastwords, she looked so lovingly at him that it was a shame to see.

  Well! our false and double-dealing sub-prior was whirled away to thedungeon, and the remaining officials and cloister monks were commandedby Matilda to begin the election of Father Anselm and finish it offhand, the countess vowing by the visage of St. Luke that she would nottake food again until the thing was done.

  The terrible threats of the countess and the subtle arguments whichFather Hildebrand, the sub-prior, had made use of, in the belief that hewas to be our abbat, had such weight with the fathers that they kissedthe jewelled hand of Matilda, and went into the chapter-house; andthere, in less time than had been wont to be spent in deliberation onthe slightest business of the house (mailed knights and fiercemen-at-arms standing by the chapter-door the while), they did name andelect the runagate Anselm to be our lord abbat, the monks of tenderconscience merely holding up their hands in assent, and saying no word,but uttering in their secret souls that they acted under fear andviolence, and that all this was uncanonical work and foul, and againstthe rule of St. Benedict. And then they all came forth from thechapter-house, singing _Benedictus Dominus_; and the countess and herpainted damsels looked out from the windows of the abbat's house andlaughed, and the armed and ungodly multitude set up a shout, as thoughthey had gained a great victory. I will not tell how, in Father Anselm'sinauguration in the church, the rules of our order, the canons, thedecretals of councils, and the bulls of the pope, were all transgressed,or turned into a jest and mockery: these things are not to be forgotten,but I will not relate them. Instead of a godly bishop, it was thecountess herself that placed the mitre on the head, and the ring on thefinger of Father Anselm, and that gave him the first kiss andaccolade--_Osculum Pacis_, while _Te Deum laudamus_ was being sung inthe choir; but verily was it sung in so faint and plaintive a manner,that it sounded more like a _Miserere Domine_. But when it was over, theintrusive abbat was kissed by all the convent, according to rule; and_Benedicite_ having been said, Father Anselm gave thanks to the monksfor that they had chosen him, the least of them all, to be their lordand shepherd, not on account of his own merits, but solely by the willof God. O! sinful and sacrilegious Anselm, better had it been for theethat thou hadst never been born!

  The will of the wicked woman was thus accomplished, but it brought herneither future worldly success nor present peace. That same night as I,Felix the Novice, lay in my cell unable to sleep, mourning for the lossof our good lord abbat, and ruminating on all which had since befallenus, I heard a cry, a piercing shriek, which rang through our cloistersand corridors, and through every part of our great abbey. Yea, as Iafterwards learned, it was heard by the prior and by those that werewith him in the prison underground. Cardiff castle did not ring and echowith so shrill a shriek of agony when the red-hot copper basin was heldover the face of the Beauclerc's unhappy brother Duke Robert to sear hiseyes and destroy his sight, as did now the abbey of Reading, which wasmainly built in expiation of that great crime of Henricus. It wasfollowed by a loud call for lights--lights in the queen's sleepingchamber. And lights were carried thither, and Matilda slept no more thatnight; and before the dawn of day preparations were made for herdeparture. The shriek was from her, the vision was hers. _O beatevirgine!_ save us from ill deeds and an ill conscience, and the dreamsthey do bring. The vision of the Beauclerc's daughter, as it afterwardscame to my knowledge, was this:--her father appeared before her, holdingin his right hand his heart, which had not been brought to our abbeywith his body, but which had been deposited in the church of St. Mary atRouen, which his mother had founded; and this heart did distil greatgouts of blood, as if in agony for the wrong which had been done ourabbey, and the insults which had been heaped upon his grave; and theface of the spectrum was menacing and awful, and the vis
ionary voicefull of dread--the words so terrible that the countess would neverrepeat them save to her confessor.

  In the same watches of the night there were moans and groans in theprison underground. Nor was it only the upbraiding of an evil consciencethat caused Hildebrand, our sub-prior, so to lament and cry out. For ourbellicose and choleric prior Reginald did beat him, and tweak him by thenose, reviling him as a Judas Iscariot; and, peradventure, he would haveslain him outright, or have done him some great bodily harm, if thegentler and more circumspect sacrist and cellarer had not been there tointercede and intervene. Our prior was the strongest man that then livedin all these parts. A terrible man in his wrath was our prior! But hiswrath was never kindled except against evil-doers, and the swinkers andoppressors of the poor. With all others he was as gentle as a lamb, andhe was ever indulgent to error and all minor offences, as I, who livedlong under his rule, can well testify--REQUIEM AETERNAM.

  I, Felix, having in the bye-gone times had much familiarity andfriendship with our two backsliding novices, Urswick the Whiteheadedfrom Pangbourne, and John-a-Blount from Maple-Durham, did much marvelhow it fared with them since their apostacy, and did diligently seekthem out in the great press which came with the countess, to the endthat I might talk gently with them upon their transgressions, and obtainfrom them some knowledge of what had become of the little Alice and myprime friend young Arthur de Bohun, hoping hereby to gain tidingsgrateful and cheerful to the ear of the good and bountiful LadieAlfgiva. But neither in the evening nor in the morning could I seeUrswick or John among the people of the countess. Yet in the morning,just before the departure, I gave a bowman my only piece of money, andlearned from him that a part of Matilda's host with sundry wains andhorse-litters had not come with her unto Reading, but had taken ashorter road for Winchester; and so I did conclude that my two quondamcomrades had gone with that company, and I did comfort myself withthinking that they had yet so much grace left in them as to have beenaverse to come back and witness our exceeding great misery. Yet did thearcher spoil this my comfort by telling me that two black-eyed damselshad gone with that division, riding like men upon big war-horses. Ofchildren the man knew nought; nor he nor any man of the meaner sort hadbeen allowed to look into the wains or to approach the litters. Theremight be children, he said, among this moveable and vagrant host, but hehad seen none. Here again did I grieve, for I loved Alice and Arthurright well, and would have laid down an untold treasure in gold to haveit in my power to speak comfortably unto the Ladie Alfgiva.

  At the command of Father Anselm the monks of the house, and we thenovices likewise, did form in processional order, and accompany Matildafrom our gates even unto the Hallowed Brook, that branch of the swiftand clear Kennet which floweth by the township; and halting on the bankof that holy and peaceful water, which ought not to have heard suchnotes, Father Anselm made us chaunt _Hosanna_ and _Jubilate_, andpromised to the Angevin countess a bloody and complete victory over allher enemies. And hence, upon _famam vulgi_, the trifling and ungroundedtalk of the common people, who, in parts remote from Reading, knew notthe violence which had been used, it was proclaimed to the world thatthe abbat and monks of Reading, in this unhappy year eleven hundred andforty-one, had received the empress-queen with the highest honours, andhad made themselves her servants and beadsmen. _Pater de Coelis, Deus,miserere nobis!_