A message was sent to Rimbaud, announcing to him his father's intentions, and requiring him to make his entry on the morrow, and to repair to the cathedral at the head of his troops, there to receive "His flower of love and palm of glory." be seen. The church of Notre Dame de la Major shone with light; the people thronged to the porch-the people of Provence, ardent and impressionable, always eager to go where fêtes and spectacles are to An Italian sun shed its vivifying rays over this multitude, pinched by the cold and mephitic air of the streets. It was a beautiful day; cries of joy arose from groups, who waved in their hands the branches which they meant to strew beneath the feet of the conquerors. The bishop, wearing the stole of St. Lawrence, was at the altar; and Blanche de Rimini, seated under a magnificent canopy, surrounded by a crowd of young knights and noble ladies, awaited the arrival of her victorious lover, with head inclined and downcast eyes, while a long dream of happiness seemed to irradiate her brow; at last, then, her days were to be adorned by that sweet garland with which heaven has enthralled mankind-Love; and she repeated to herself "I shall be his flower of love and palm of glory." Shouts were heard, the banner of St. Victor appeared at a distance; behold the conquerors. A herald at arms enters the cathedral; he pierces through the dense crowd, and approaches Blanche. "Charming lady (said he), my master, the Count Rimbaud, cannot wed you; whilst he was combating he vowed to devote himself to God in the Abbey of St. Victor. I am come to release his faith and promise." Blanche hardly heard the last words-she fell down senseless. They carried her to the episcopal palace; and when at length they brought her to life her look was dull and fixed, her complexion ghastly-she was mad. A month after she disappeared, nor could any trace of her be discovered. In the following year, when the Normans were become masters of Marseilles, they beseiged the abbey, which held out against them for some time. At last the Normans took it, killed several of the monks, and the next day decamped. Then the Marseillaise came to contemplate their monastery, which they had seen so beautiful, but which now presented only a heap of ruins. In the subterranean vaults was found a woman sitting motionless on a tomb; she replied not to their questions, and they vainly endeavoured to remove her from that spot. They carried her food, which she took with avidity, but without ever quitting her place; only she sometimes murmured these singular words : "I am his flower of love and palm of glory." She lived thus ten years without forsaking her funeral seat; when she died they opened the grave and interred her in it, as if she ought to be after her death there where she had passed her life. They found in the grave a skeleton and some fragments of serge. Such was the "maniac's seat;" it once covered Rimbaud with his faithful Blanche "His flower of love, his palm of glory.” EASTER ANTHEM. BY MR. PHILIPPS, OF CHRIST'S HOSPITAL, A LITTLE while, and woe shall fill For He who deign'd our griefs to share, His work is done, and evening's gloom Emmanuel, a present God, His human path again he trod, A little while, and hope shall be A glad, a blest reality; For those who tread the path he trod, To them undying bliss is given, 'Mid earthly things, a present heaven; The joy that fills the courts above, The joy of everlasting love. FORD ABBEY, THE SEAT OF JOHN FRAUNCEIS GWYN, ESQ. BY THE REV. JAMES RUdge, d.d., f.r.s. To the Secretary of the Committee of Management. SIR, Though The Churchman is chiefly devoted to works of a theological nature, and to discussions of a polemical character; yet I know not whether it would not be giving some variety to its general topics, and be imparting a more diversified interest to its instructive pages, to admit occasionally within its columns notices of a different kind; and among such, there are perhaps few which would be regarded with a more exciting interest than those which referred to the abbey-houses and monastic establishments of former days. Under this impression, I wish to record in The Churchman my description of one of the most striking and venerable religious houses yet existing in excellent preservation-Ford Abbey, in the parish of Thorncombe, in the county of Devon. I have always been of opinion, that the deambulatio per amœna loca is one of the most intellectual feasts with which we can be treated in our journey through life; and one of the heaviest deprivations with which I could be visited, would be that of being so circumstanced as to be unable Visere sæpe amnes nitidos, per amcena que Tempe, and my delight is always more particularly heightened when my steps are directed to a spot, which, like the abbey of Ford, is associated with feelings to which I never can think that there is any degree of impropriety in giving scope and indulgence, even at the present day; and though I do not altogether participate in the enthusiastic emotions which were enkindled in the breast of St. Bernard at the sight of a monastery or abbey, and which led him to exclaim, "Deus bone! quanta pauperibus procuras solatia!" yet I confess that I have no portion of that frigid philosophy which would conduct me, indifferent and unmoved, to such a site, or indeed over any ground which has been dignified by wisdom, bravery, or virtue. "The man is little to be envied whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plain of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warm among the ruins of Iona." This is the language of Johnson, and it embodies a sentiment at once noble and natural, and which every generous heart, and every unprejudiced spirit, must be proud to feel and entertain. I am quite aware of the popular prejudices against monastic establishments, and of the unfavourable eye with which they are still regarded;—they are viewed more as dormitories of former indolence and vice, than as seats in which literary pursuits were cultivated, and the practical duties of religion and humanity were exhibited. The "De imitatione Christi," and other works, ejusdem generis, of an intellectual character, which might be particularized, the study among its inmates of the ancient classics, and, I may add, their preservation of those venerable relics, are proofs of their successful attention to the former; while their instruction of the ignorant, their humanity to the poor, and their relief to the stranger, attest the truth of the latter. It is not to be doubted, indeed, that some amongst its members were the opprobrium of these societies; but these formed the exception, not the rule; and akin to this absurdity and injustice is the reprobation which we sometimes hear levelled at the universities of the land, because they contain some profligate instances of inebriety and vice. Before I graduated at Oxford I passed some few years in my college; indeed I never missed a single term before my public examination; I had many opportunities, therefore, of forming my own judgment; and justice compels me to add, that these instances were rare, and they were chiefly to be found, not among the men who were intended and studying for a profession, but among the sons of gentlemen of fortune, who were merely sent to the university for a year or two, and with no serious intention that their minds should be applied to the general acquisition of knowledge, and the particular lectures of their respective colleges. With respect to the inmates in general of monasteries or abbeys, the following may, I think, be viewed as no inaccurate representation of their general character and unquestioned usefulness. The spiritual monk (let not modern prejudices refuse to admit the phrase), glad to hide himself from the railleries or spite of the lay fraternity, kept close to his cell, and there passed his hours -not uncheered nor undelicious-in prayer and meditation, in the perusal of religious books, and in the pleasant, edifying, and beneficial toils of transcription. Not seldom, as is proved by abundant evidence, the life-giving words of prophets and apostles were the subjects of their labours; nor ought it to be doubted, that while, through a long tract of centuries, the Scriptures, unknown abroad, were holding their course under ground, if one might so speak, waiting the time of their glorious emerging, they imparted the substance of true knowledge to many souls pent with them in the same sepulchral gloom! On this subject, I perfectly concur with the view of an eloquent friend-in my judgment, one of the most magnificent writers of the present day. "The man (observes Mr. Le Bas, in his Life of Wycliff) is not to be envied, who can reflect, without some emotions of gratitude, on those various and noble foundations, which, although they may have at last degenerated into haunts and hiding-places of profligacy, formed, nevertheless, the only retreats of learning, civilization, and charity, during a dreary interval of general ignorance and brutality." Of the abbey, to which my visits are often paid with an ever-fresh and vivid delight, as by far the most beautiful object in this neighbourhood, and, perhaps, the most perfect of the kind still existing in the kingdom, I shall here present your readers with some account. Ford Abbey was erected, and the building completed, in or about the year 1141, for the reception of monks of the Cistercian, or rather of the Bernardine order, as they were subsequently called. This monastic order, founded by Robert, abbot of Molené in Burgundy, and subsequently enriched and aggrandized by St. Bernard, abbot of Clairval, whose word was law, and whose influence was incredible throughout Europe, possessed no less than 1800 monasteries or abbeys, and became so powerful a few years after its institution, and particularly in the time of St. Bernard, as to govern almost the whole of the European nations in spiritual as well as in temporal affairs. The person to whom the property originally belonged was Richard, a son of Baldwin de Brioniis, of Normandy, and Albreda, a niece of William the Conqueror. Upon this Richard, the Conqueror bestowed the entire dignity and barony of Okehampton, in Devon; and Richard dying without issue, he bequeathed the whole of his property to his sister, Adelicia, of whom the following interesting record has been transmitted:-A few years after the decease of her brother Richard, the monks of the abbey of Brightley, which he had founded, were reduced to the utmost state of poverty and destitution. As some of the monks were travelling on foot through the manor of Thorncombe, they were accidently seen by Adelicia. On having ascertained the cause of their migration, and the state of their poverty, she thus addressed them: "What my lord and brother Richard, out of a heart full of pure devotion for the honour of God, and the salvation of us all, began so solemnly, and with such an upright intention of beneficence, shall not I, his sister, and heir, into whose hands, before his death, he delivered all his possessions, be able and willing to accomplish? Behold my manor on which I now reside! It is sufficiently fertile-it is sheltered and shaded with wood-it is productive of grain and other fruits of the earth. Behold! we give it you in exchange for the barren lands of Brightley, together with our mansion-house, for ever. Remain here till some more convenient monastery may be built for you on some other part of the estate; nor will we be wanting to you in this respect, but will give you our best assistance to carry on that building." This Adelicia, therefore, was the foundress of the great abbey; and at the time at which this address was delivered to these itinerant monks she was residing at her mansion at Westford. There is a mansion, now a farmhouse, at Westford, still in existence; and having lately examined it, I should judge that it was formerly a house of considerable dimensions, and occupied by a person of opulence. The lands upon which it is built are large, and now are the property of Mr. Harford, near Bristol, and his tenant is Mr. Thomas Barns, of Hawkchurch. (To be continued.) ARCHITECTURE.-No. II. BY JOSEPH S. ANCONA, ESQ., ARCHITECT. WHEN the art had thus attained as much of the useful as the age required in establishing comfort and securing man from any inclemency of the seasons, it was natural he should aim somewhat beyond it, and endeavour to acquire something like ornament for his dwelling: the carpenter, no longer content with giving his work that mere external smoothness which had hitherto marked the excess of his talents, would endeavour to acquire for his work some extra orna |