King Henry VIII and the Abbot of Reading
’T was early in the reign of bluff King Hal,
Into a monster, and caused him to be known
World-wide as England’s Bluebeard; or his hands
Had filch’d the monast’ries, and all they own’d,— 5
Houses, broad lands, tithes, gold, silver, bells, robes
All riches his avarice coveted,
Masking the robbery, as such thieves are wont,
Under the guise of serving God and man.
Then Henry loved the chase, being not too gross 10
To mount swift courser, like his brother-hounds
To hunt the innocent deer. Three hundred years
And more, with much of thought and earnest work,
Since them have help’d to raise the human race
In civilisation; yet how few of us 15
Have reach’d to Wordsworth’s philosophic rede[1],
“Never to blend our pleasure on our pride
With suffering of the meanest thing which lives!”
Harry had ridden hard full many a mile
Through Windsor’s noble forest, e’en now 20
For dryads and for hymadryads would,
Methinks, be a most fit abiding-place,
O’er many a pastoral plain—by bosky streams—
Through cornfields and through coppices he rode,
Cheer’d on by music of the horse and horn, 25
Until he found himself and horse alone,
Where chalk-born Kennet weds with Father Thames,
And Reading’s Abbey towers rose full to view.
Then Harry loosed his tired courser’s rein,
And let it breathe more freely though he felt 30
That the fresh air had caused the gastric juice
To gnaw his empty stomach with the pangs
Of hunger, which is Nature’s notice sure
That food in needed to replace the waste
Going on within the body: for in health
The stomach is remorseless creditor
Which duns unceasingly until ’t is paid,
Yet is no miser, but distribeteth
Freely its wealth abroad for all to share.
Then inns were few, the monast’ries instead 40
Providing travellers with bed and board;
And Harry knew that he had but to reach
Reading’s fair Abbey to find noble cheer.
And soon he enter’d the welcome retreat,
Where, though himself unknown, he was deem’d one 45
Of noble station, and set down to dine
At the same table as the Abbot self,
And served with every luxury in state.
The Abbot gazed with wonder when he saw
How soon substantial viands disappear’d 50
Down the capacious throat of his strange guest;
For Harry made a chasm deep and wide
In that choice English joint, our country’s pride,
Some say he knighted; others, Second Charles
Pronounced it Sir Loin in a later age,— 55
A rich burlesque on modern knighthood sure!
But Reading’s mitred Abbot then had power
To dub men knights, and yet we never read
They knighted cowards for their flunkyhood—
Whom thoughts of danger would have served for purge. 60
The Abbey was well known both far and wide
For hospitality with lavish hand
Served out to all; alike both rich and poor,
In their degree sharing both meat and drink,
According to their rank in social life, 65
Whilst all the needed necessaries were given
E’en to the meanest of the human race,
Winning their hearts, as Harry often found
In after years, when, with unhallow’d hand,
He robb’d alike the Churchmen and the Poor.
This lordly Abbot rear’d his mitred head,
Third of his rank, in court and parliament;
Those of St. Albans and of Glastonbury
Alone before him having precedence;
Yea, more than once had parliaments been held 75
Within the Abbey’s hall in days gone by:
And here two hundred Benedictine monks
Flourish’d, where Saxon Elfida’s poor Nuns
Offer’d to the All-Father many a prayer
That He would pardon her the hideous crime 80
Of royal Edward’s murder, till the Danes
Destroy’d the place in their plundering ire.
But the First Henry on the spot did found
A richer Abbey for Benedictine Monks,
And here with many of the royal line 85
Did lie interr’d, their monuments e’en then,
With many so-called relics of the saints,
With veneration striking many a soul;
Here too Freemasons had rear’d “poems in stone”
Which would have stood till now, had not the hand 90
Of the foul tyrant now its evil guest
Repaid its generous hospitality
With all an evil fiend’s ingratitude.
The Abbott his stoup of Rhenish wine
Drank like a thirsty man in harvest time; 95
But when he did essay to eat, he could
Barely into his pamper’d stomach put
A capon’s leg, and “tiny kickshaws” such
As “William cook” did make for Justice Shallow
When Falstaff dined with him in Gloucestershire.* 100
And yet the Abbot joy’d to see his guest
Carve at the joint so freely and then came
And come again, with appetite as keen
As even hungry wolf; and he declared 105
That the One Hundred Pounds would freely pay
If he for once could make just such a meal.
Harry departed without making known
The Viper he was harbouring when none
Knew he was there, and how he soon would serve 110
Him and his Abbey, never more that guest
Had left its portal, but had found a grave
Where none would e’er have sought to seek for him
Then would his soul have gone to its account 115
Comparatively pure to when he died,
And England’s Reformation would have been
Accomplish’d as all Reformation ought,
By wisdom and by goodness only wrought.
Weeks had elapsed, and many a visitor 120
Had sought and shared the hospitality
For which the Reading Abbey was renoun’d,
When one arrived less welcome than the rest,
For he a warrant from the King did bear
To arrest the Abbot, and convey him straight 125
To London’s Tower, and there in “durance vile”
To keep him prisoner, and let no one
Approach his dungeon, save the warders who
Bore him the half-starvation food which he
Alone was then allow’d; such as the poor 130
Only could look upon and never loathe.
Often he sigh’d for Reading’s princely table,
But more than all his mind was worritted
To find out what offence against the King
He was to be charged withall. Nought was said 135
To give him the least inkling of his crime,
And he began to think they meant to starve
Him unto death, and ne’er the reason why
Ever divulge to him, and he did feel
That he would thankful be to share the alms 140
Of broken victuals daily given away
At his own Abbey gate; lo! one day
He caught a smell might tempt an anchorite
And was surprised to see before him placed
A change of diet, being a choice loin 145
Of well-fed beef, roasted with greatest care.
The Abbot was too hungry to say grace,
But thought it most religiously I trow
As he with healthy appetite devoured
The fragrant meal. When he could eat no more, 150
His arms he folded, and had closed his eyes
To let digestion do its work at ease;
But suddenly he was disturb’d to see
His former hunting visitor appear
Whom he had served at Reading who now claim’d 155
His Hundred Pounds for working such a cure
On the Lord Abbot, which when he had paid
He was quite free to quit the Tower at once,
Returning to fair Reading’s monastery.
Harry, unseen, had watch’d the Abbot dine 160
And now made himself known. And well he
The Lord Abbot had broken Nature’s course
By over feeding; that by too fine food
We poison the blood, spoil the appetite
Engendering disease. It had been well 165
Had Harry throughout life but practised well
The lesson he had to the Abbot taught.
So far we might be tempted but to laugh
At Harry’s rough but powerful remedy
For indigestion in the Abbot’s case. 170
But when, in after years, Old Harry stole
The Abbeys and their riches through the land,
And Reading’s Abbot with two Monks refused
Their sanction to the robbery, he took
The Abbey for a summer residence, 175
And hung and quarter’d them because they ne’er
To give consent to his arch-devilry,
The thing becomes too tragic for aught else
Than loathing of the monster falsely call’d
The Father of our English Reformation: 180
Mere Papist he who’d quarrel’d with the Pope,
And would himself be Pope on English ground.
By George Markham Tweddel
[[1] O.E. ‘advice’ or ‘counsel’]
* Shakspere’s Henry IV, Part II, act V, scene 1st.
Blank verse [in M/S], pp. 91-99.
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