Concerning Bath I have such plenty of matter to entertain your Highness with, (I mean variety of discourse,) as I study rather how to abbreviate it, than how to amplify it.<360> I should have begun at Bishop Barlow, but I respect so much the very name of King,<361> as I could not let him pass without some homage; and because the chief bath of which the town hath the name is called the King's bath, I shall add somewhat also, either omitted, or but slightly touched in the precedent book, by mine author; but somewhat more largely handled in the Latin treatise mentioned by him, page 307, in the Life of Stillington, out of which I will cite a passage or two as occasion shall serve.

            First, therefore, for the city of Bath, to omit all the antiquities noted by Mr. Camden and other good authors, as also seen by myself, I observe this, that among all our old traditions and legends thereof, it seemeth as it were purposely left in suspense, and not yet fully determined, whether the crown or the mitre have more claim to the virtue that all men see and say to be in these waters. Some affirm that King Bladud, a learned King, brought up at Athens, long before Christ's time, either by his cunning in magic did frame it, or rather by his search did find it, or at least with his cost did first found it. Others believe that King Arthur's uncle St. David, a bishop of Wales, that lived longer with leeks than we do now with larks and quails, by his prayer procured this virtue to these springs. But this is manifest by most credible histories, that King Offa, King of Mercia, built a goodly abbey there, where before had been a temple of Minerva and Hercules, whom they feigned to be presidents of hot baths. This monastery, builded by Offa 775, was destroyed by the Danes (being then no Christians) about the year 900. Then it was re-edified by Elphegus a bishop of Canterbury, An. 1010, and continued in great estimation for a place of holy and strict life, but had not yet the title of a bishopric, till John de Villula, a Frenchman born and a physician by profession, being made Bishop of Wells,<362> which was in Latin, de Fontibus, admiring the virtues of these baths, and the cures they wrought, for which it had been long before by the Saxons surnamed Akman Chester, that is sick-man's town. This Villula thinking this place de Fontibus, more honourable than the other called Wells, bought this city of King William Rufus, and translated his seat thither. And finding that both the town and abbey had been late before defaced with fire, he new built both about the year 1122, and was the first bishop that was buried there.

            Then was it again burned in the year 1157, and repaired again by Bishop Robert, and remained still the bishop's seat and inheritance, till that bankrupt Bishop Savaricus, for covetousness of Glastonbury, in mercedem hujus unionis, (to use my author's word) "for recompense of this union" of Glastonbury to Wells, gave Bath again to King Richard the First, and yet notwithstanding these two huge revenues, he spent so prodigally and unprovidently in his many journeys to the Emperor, that it is written he had a legion of creditors, and for his wandering humour he had this written for an epitaph, though not set to his tomb at Bath:

Hospes eras mundo,
Per mundum semper eundo,
Sic suprema dies
Fit tibi prima quies.<363>

            Thus Bath again after 100 years, became the King's, and ever may it be so.

            But the church was not so sufficiently repaired as it ought, in so much that in Henry 7. his time it was ready to fall, what time this worthy Oliver King, about 100 years since, built it again with so goodly a fabric as the stonework stands yet firm, notwithstanding the injuries of men, and time, and tempests upon it.

            Here I may by no means omit, yet I can scant tell how to relate, the pretty tales that are told of this bishop King, by what visions, and predictions, he was encouraged and discouraged in the building of this church, whether some cunning woman had foretold him of the spoil that followed, (as Paulus Jovius writes<364> how a witch deceived his next successor Hadrian, bishop of Bath,) or whether his own mind running of it, gave him occasion, sleeping, to dream of that he thought waking; but this goes for current and confirmed with pretty probabillities;—that lying at Bath, and musing or meditating one night late, after his devotions and prayers for the prosperity of Henry 7th and his children, (who were then all or most part living,) to which king he was principal secretary, and by him preferred to his bishopric; he saw, or supposed he saw, a vision of the holy Trinity with angels ascending and descending by a ladder, near to the foot of which there was a fair olive tree supporting a crown, and a voice that said "Let an Olive establish the crown; and let a King restore the church." Of this dream, or vision, he took exceeding great comfort, and told it divers of his friends, applying it to the King his master in part, and some part to himself. To his master, because the olive being the emblem or hieroglyphic of peace and plenty, seemed to him to allude to King Henry VIIth, who was worthily counted the wisest and most peaceable king in all Europe of that age. To himself, (for the wisest will flatter themselves sometime,) because he was not only a chief councillor to this king, and had been his ambassador to conclude the most honourable peace with Charles the 8, who paid (as Hollinshed writeth) 745 thousand ducats, beside a yearly tribute of 25000 crowns, but also he carried both the Olive and King in his own name; and therefore thought he was specially designed for this church-work, to the advancement of which he had an extraordinary inclination. Thus though (as St. Thomas Aquinas well noteth) all dreams, be they never so sensible, will be found to halt in some part of their coherence; and so perhaps may this; yet most certain it is, he was so transported with his dream, for the time, that he presently set in hand with this church (the ruins whereof I rue to behold even in writing these lines) and at the west end thereof he caused a representation to be graved of this his vision of the Trinity, the angels, and the ladder, and on the north side the olive and crown, with certain French words, which I could not read, but in English is this verse taken out of the book of Judges, chap. 9.

Trees going to choose their king
Said, be to us the Olive King.

            All which is so curiously cut and carved, as in the west part of England is no better work than in the west end of this poor church; and to make the credit of all this more authentic, he added this word to it, de sursum est, "it is from on high." Thus much the stones and walls (though dumb witnesses, yet credible,) do plainly testify. But in midst of all this jollity, having made so fair a beginning to his own great content, and no less to the king's, who came into this country at that time, and lay at the Dean of Wells his house nine days; I say, in all this joy and comfort, it happened the kings primogenitus, the noble Prince Arthur (having lately before married a great Infanta of Spain,) to depart this life.<365> This so daunted the heart and hopes of this good bishop, that he doubted now his vision would prove but an illusion, that his Oliva would be but an Oleaster; which melancholy thoughts were increased in him by the predictions, as I touched before, of some wizards (to which kind of men that age was much affected) concerning the new prince who was after Henry 8, of his unfortunate marriages, of the decay of his offspring, that he should pull down what kings had builded, which no marvel if the bishop, being by surname King, mistrusted to pertain also to his buildings. I heard by one Flower of Phillip's-Norton, who said he saw Henry 7th in this country, that this bishop would wish he had paid above the price of it, so it might have been finished, for if he ended it not, it would be pulled down ere it were perfected.

            As for the latter predictions or rather post-fictions (since this bishop's death) I willingly omit, concerning the successors of this bishop, as things worthier to be contemned than condemned, written by cole-prophets,<254> upon whited walls, which the Italian calls, "the paper of fools," muro bianco charta di matto; of which sort many have been made as well by our own countrymen as others; but the best I remember was this, written by an English gentleman, since the 43d year of Queen Elizabeth, on the church wall with a charcoal.

O Church! I wail thy woeful plight,
Whom king nor cardinal, clerk nor knight
Have yet restored to ancient right.
—Subscribed Ignoto.

            Whereto a captain of another country wrote this for the comfort of this church; and I wish him to prove a true prophet, though perhaps he died rather a martyr.

Be blithe, fair kerk, when hemp is past,
Thine Olive, that ill winds did blast,
Shall flourish green, for ay to last.

—Subscribed Cassadore.

            But to proceed in this sad story, and leave this pleasant poetry, to pursue truths and eschew fictions, to embrace reason and refuse rhyme; it is most apparent that after the death of this Oliver King, his successors Cardinal Adrian, Cardinal Wolsey, Bishop Clerk, and Bishop Knight, all succeeded in 35 years, of which the first two were supposed to poison themselves,<366> the third to be poisoned by others, the last survived to see the death, or at least the deadly wound of this church; for while the builders were ready to have finished it, the destroyers came to demolish it. Yet, to give the Devil his right, (as the proverb is) it is said that the commissioners in reverence and compassion of the place, did so far strain their commission, that they offered to sell the whole church to the town under 500 marks. But the townsmen fearing they might be thought to cozen the King, if they bought it so cheap, or that it might after (as many things were) be found concealed, utterly refused it. Whereupon certain merchants bought all the glass, iron, bells, and lead, of which lead alone was accounted for (as I have credibly heard) 490 ton, worth at this day 4800l. But what became of these spoils and spoilers,

Desit in hac mihi parte fides, neque credite factum;

Aut, si creditis, facti quoque credite pœnam.<367>

            For I may well say, non possum quin exclamem.<368> But in a word, soon after the sellers lost their heads, the buyers lost their goods, being laid up in the great treasury of Antichrist, I mean drownd in the sea, from whence (as some write) by the Devil's power, he shall recover all lost treasures, for the maintaining of his unmeasurable gifts.

            Thus speedily it was pulled down, but how slow it hath risen again, I may blush to write. Collections have been made over all England, with which the chancel is covered with blue slate, and an alms-house built, ex abundantia;<369> but the whole body of the church stands bare, ex humilitate.<370> The rest of the money never coming to the townsmen's hands, is laid up (as I suppose) with the money collected for Paul's steeple, which I leave to a melius inquirendum.<371> And thus the church lies still, like the poor traveller mentioned in the 10. of Luke, spoiled and wounded by thieves. The priest goes by, the levites go by, but do nothing: only a good Samaritan, honest Mr. Billet,<190> (worthy to be billeted in the new Jerusalem) hath poured some oil in the wounds, and maintained it in life. Insomuch as a wealthy citizen of London, hath adventured to set his tomb there, whom I commend more worthily than the senate of Rome did thank Varro, at his return from Cannæ, quod de salute reipublicæ non desperasset;<372> for it seems this honest citizen did not despair of the re-edifying this church, that gave order to be richly entombed therein;—and thus much be said of the first founder of this last church of Bath.

Prev Next