ing the charges which such an enormous
establishment involved. The mere keeping up the buildings at all times
entailed a very heavy annual outlay. Already in the 13th century the
precincts of the Abbey were overcrowded with palatial edifices, which
were never pulled down except to make room for larger ones. There were
acres of roofs within the Abbey walls.

And what return was being made to the nation, that every rank and every
class were keeping up a rivalry in munificence in favour of such an
institution as this? What had they done, what were they doing, these
seventy men, with their Abbot at their head, who were in the enjoyment
of an income larger than that of many a principality? How was it that no
one _in those days_ accused them of being indolent drones? Mere burdens
upon the earth, as they were called frequently enough, and loudly
enough, and angrily enough, three centuries later? It was the age for
the expansion of the monastic system--none then wished to sweep the
monks away. One of the reasons why the monasteries had retained their
hold upon the affection of the people, and were regarded with reverence
and pride and confidence, lay in this, that they had moved with the
times, and that the monasticism of the 13th was very different indeed
from the monasticism of the 9th century. The primitive asceticism had
almost vanished; it had not, however, died, leaving nothing in its
place. No one now expected to find the religious houses filled with
religious people, everyone holy, devout, and fervent; the personal
sanctity of the inmates was one thing, the sanctity of their churches
and shrines was quite another. In the old days the monks were separate
from the world, living to save their own souls at best; examples to such
as trembled at the wrath of God, and longed for the life to come. As
time went on they mixed more boldly with the sinful world, and gradually
they became more and more the illuminators of the darkness round them.
Now they were regarded as in great measure the salt of the earth, and if
that salt should lose its savour, where was such virtue elsewhere to be
found? Personally, the men might be worldly--vicious, as a rule, they
certainly were not--they were, _mutatis mutandis_, what in our time
would be called cultured gentlemen, courteous, highly educated and
refined, as compared with the great mass of their contemporaries; a
privileged class who were not abusing their privileges; a class from
whence a