CHAPTER VII

HOSPITAL INMATES “_To the master and brethren of the hospital of St. Nicholas, Scarborough.—Request to admit John de Burgh, chaplain, and grant him maintenance for life, as John has been suddenly attacked by the disease of leprosy, and has not wherewith to live and is unable through shame to beg among Christians._” (Close Roll, 1342.) Though a visit to a modern infirmary calls forth in us, doubtless, passing thoughts of admiration for the buildings and the arrangements, what draws most of us thither is the bond of brotherhood. It is the inmates of the wards who are to us the centre of attraction. Looking upon the sufferers, we desire to know their circumstances, their complaints, their chance of cure. Nor is it otherwise in studying the history of ancient institutions. The mere site of an old hospital may become a place of real interest when we know something of those who once dwelt there, when we _see_ the wayworn pilgrim knocking at the gate, the infirm man bent with age, the paralysed bedridden woman, and the stricken leper in his sombre gown, and realize what our forefathers strove to do in the service of others. In many cases the link between the first founder and first inmate was very close, being the outcome of personal relations between master and servant, feudal lord and tenant. It was so in the case of Orm, the earliest hospital inmate whose name has been handed down to us. [p092] This Yorkshireman, who lived near Whitby eight hundred years ago, “was a good man and a just, but he was a leper.” The abbot, therefore, having pity on him, founded a little asylum, in which Orm spent the rest of his days, receiving from the abbey his portion of food and drink. In the same way Hugh Kevelioc, Earl of Chester, built a retreat outside Coventry for William de Anney, a knight of his household, which was the origin of Spon hospital for the maintenance of such lepers as should happen to be in the town. (i) PERSONS MIRACULOUSLY CURED In dealing with mediæval miracles it may not unnaturally be objected that we are wandering from the paths of history into the fields of fiction; but it is absolutely necessary to allude to them at some length because they played so important a part in the romantic tales of pilgrim-patients. We shall see that sufferers were constantly being carried about in search of cure, and in some cases were undoubtedly restored to health. This was an age of faith and therefore of infinite possibilities. It would appear that “marvels” were worked not only on certain nervous ailments, but on some deep-seated diseases. It is a recognized fact that illness caused by emotion (as of grief) has oftentimes been cured by emotion (as of hope). Possibly, too, not a few of the persons restored to health were suffering from hysteria and nervous affections, which complaints might be cured by change of scene and excitement. In the _Book of the Foundation_ is the story of a well-known man of Norwich who would not take care of his health, and therefore “hadde lost the rest of slepe,” which alone keeps the nature sound and whole. His [p093] insomnia became chronic, and by the seventh year of his misfortune he became very feeble, and so thin that his bones could be numbered. At length he betook himself to the relics of St. Bartholomew; there, grovelling on the ground, he multiplied his prayers and began to sleep—“and whan he hadde slepte a grete while he roys up hole.” On the other hand the conviction is forced upon us that many, perhaps most, of the so-called miracles were not genuine. Some diseases might have been feigned by astute beggars. Although experienced doctors and skilled nurses to-day are quick to detect cases, cleverly simulating paralysis, epilepsy, etc., the staff in a mediæval hospital would probably not discover the deception. When one such person became the hero of a dramatic scene of healing, the officials would joyfully acknowledge his cure, without intention of fraud. The narratives come down to us through monk-chroniclers, whose zeal for their home-shrines made them lend a quick ear to that which contributed to their fame. In those days people were uncritical and were satisfied without minute investigation. [Illustration: 14. ST. BARTHOLOMEW (Twelfth-century seal)] There is, indeed, little information about early hospital inmates unless they were fortunate enough to receive what was universally believed in those days to be miraculous [p094] healing. Startling incidents are related by contemporary writers, whose vivid and picturesque narratives suggest that they had met witnesses of the cures related. The twelfth-century chronicler of St. Bartholomew’s, Smithfield, gives us eyes to see some of the patients of that famous hospital. (1) _Patients of St. Bartholomew’s._—The cripple Wolmer, a well-known beggar who lay daily in St. Paul’s, was a most distressing case. He was so deformed as to be obliged to drag himself along on all fours, supporting his hands on little wooden stools. (Cf. Pl. XX.) His story is extracted from Dr. Norman Moore’s valuable edition of the faithful English version of the _Liber Fundacionis_, dating about the year 1400. “There was an sykeman Wolmer be name with greuous and longe langoure depressid, and wrecchid to almen that hym behylde apperyd, his feit destitute of naturall myght hyng down, hys legges cleuyd to his thyis, part of his fyngerys returnyd to the hande, restynge alwey uppon two lytyll stolys, the quantite of his body, to hym onerous, he drew aftir hym. . . .” For thirty winters Wolmer remained in this sad condition, until at length he was borne by his friends in a basket to the newly-founded hospital of St. Bartholomew, where his cure was wrought by a miracle as he lay extended before the altar in the church:— “. . . and by and by euery crokidness of his body a litill & litill losid, he strecchid un to grownde his membris & so anoon auawntynge hym self up warde, all his membris yn naturale ordir was disposid. . . .” The scene of this incident was, presumably, that noble building which we still see (Fig. 11), and which was then [p095] fresh from the hand of the Norman architect and masons. Aldwyn, a carpenter from Dunwich, once occupied a place in St. Bartholomew’s. His limbs were as twisted and useless as those of Wolmer; his sinews being contracted, he could use neither hand nor foot. Brought by sea to London, the cripple was “put yn the hospitall of pore men,” where awhile he was sustained. Bit by bit he regained power in his hands, and when discharged was able to exercise his craft once more. Again the veil of centuries is lifted and we see the founder himself personally interested in the patients. A woman was brought into the hospital whose tongue was so terribly swollen that she could not close her mouth. Rahere offered to God and to his patron prayer on her behalf and then applied his remedy:— “And he reuolvynge his relikys that he hadde of the Crosse, he depid them yn water & wysshe the tonge of the pacient ther with, & with the tree of lyif, that ys with the same signe of the crosse, paynted the tokyn of the crosse upon the same tonge. And yn the same howre all the swellynge wente his way, & the woman gladde & hole went home to here owne.” Perhaps the most startling cure was that of a maid deaf, dumb, blind of both eyes and crippled. Brought by her parents to the festival of St. Bartholomew in the year 1173, she was delivered from every bond of sickness. Anon she went “joyfull skippyng forth”; her eyes clear, her hearing repaired, “she ran to the table of the holy awter, spredyng owte bothe handys to heuyn and so she that a litill beforne was dum joyng in laude of God [p096] perfitly sowndyd her wordes”; then weeping for joy she went to her parents affirming herself free from all infirmity. In the foregoing narratives it will be noticed that hospital and shrine were adjacent. This convenient combination not being found elsewhere, incurable patients were carried to pilgrimage-places. Two of the chief wonder-workers were St. Godric of Finchale and St. Thomas of Canterbury, who both died in 1170. Reginald of Durham narrates the cure by their instrumentality of three inmates from northern hospitals.[62] (2) _The Paralytic Girl and the Crippled Youth._—A young woman who had lost the use of one side by paralysis, was brought from the hospital of Sedgefield (near Durham) to Finchale, where the same night she recovered health. The poor cripple of York was not cured so rapidly. Utterly powerless, his arms and feet twisted after the manner of knotted ropes, this most wretched youth had spent years in St. Peter’s hospital. At length he betook himself as best he could to Canterbury, where he received from St. Thomas health on one side of his body. It grieved him that he was not worthy to be completely cured, but learning from many witnesses the fame of St. Godric, he hastened to his sepulchre; falling down there, he lay in weakness for some time, then, rising up, found the other side of his body absolutely recovered. The lad returned home whole and upright, and this notable miracle was attested by many who knew him, and by the procurator of the hospital. (3) _A Leper Maiden._—The touching tale of a girl who was eventually released from the lazar-house near [p097] Darlington (Bathelspitel) is also related by Reginald, and transcribed by Longstaffe. “There is a vill in the bishopric called Hailtune [Haughton-le-Skerne] in which dwelt a widow and her only daughter who was grievously tormented with a most loathsome leprosy. The mother remarried a man who soon began to view the poor girl with the greatest horror, and to torment and execrate her. . . . She fled for aid to the priest of the vill, who, moved with compassion, procured by his entreaties the admission of the damsel to the hospital of Dernigntune [Darlington], which was almost three miles distant, and was called Badele.” There the maiden remained three years, growing daily worse. After describing her horrible symptoms and wasted frame, the chronicler narrates her marvellous cure at Finchale. Thrice did the devoted mother take her thither until the clemency of St. Godric was outpoured and “he settled and removed the noxious humours.” When at length the girl threw back the close hood, her mother beheld her perfectly sound. The scene of this pitiful arrival and glad departure was that beautiful spot at the bend of the river Weir, now marked by picturesque ruins. The complete recovery was attested by all, including the sheriff and the kind priest, Normanrus. We reluctantly lose sight of the delivered damsel, wondering whether the cruel step-father received her less roughly when she got home. It is simply recorded that never did the disease return, and that she lived long to extol the power given by God to His servant Godric. (4) _A Taunton Monk._—Seldom do we know the after-life of such patients, but a touching picture shows us one cleansed of his leprosy, serving his former fellow-inmates. This was John King, a monk of Taunton Priory. Prior [p098] Stephen tells how he was smitten with terrible and manifest leprosy, on which account he was transferred to a certain house of poor people, where he stayed for more than a year among the brethren. The prior’s letter, after declaring how the fame of St. Thomas was growing throughout the world, refers to divers miracles, by one of which John was completely cured. Returning from Canterbury, he was authorized to gather alms for his former companions:— “We . . . earnestly implore your loving good will for the love of God and St. Thomas, that you listen to the dutiful prayer of our brother John, wonderfully restored to health by God, if you have power to grant it. For he earnestly begs you to help by your labour and your alms the poverty of those sick men whose company he enjoyed so long.”[63] Two similar instances of service are recorded. Nicholas, a cripple child cured at St. Bartholomew’s, was sent for a while to serve in the kitchen,—“for the yifte of his helth, he yave the seruyce of his body.” In the same way a blind man who had been miraculously cured by the merit of St. Wulstan (1221), afterwards took upon himself the habit of a professed brother in the hospital of that saint in Worcester. He had been a pugilist and had lost his sight in a duel, but having become a peaceable brother of mercy, he lived there honourably for a long while.[64] (ii) CROWN PENSIONERS Leaving the chronicles, and turning to state records, we find that the sick, impotent and leprous were recipients of royal favour. An early grant of maintenance was [p099] made in 1235 to Helen, a blind woman of Faversham whom Henry III caused to be received as a sister at Ospringe hospital. Similar grants were made from time to time to faithful retainers, veteran soldiers or converted Jews (who were the king’s wards). _Old Servants, Soldiers, etc._—The most interesting pensioners were veterans who had served in Scotland and France. The year of the battle of Bannockburn (1314), a man was sent to Brackley whose hand had been inhumanly cut off by Scotch rebels.[65] There are several instances of persons maimed in the wars who were sent for maintenance to various hospitals. One of the many grants of Richard II was made—“out of regard for Good Friday”—to an aged servant, that he should be one of the king’s thirteen poor bedemen of St. Giles’, Wilton. Another of Richard II’s retainers, a yeoman, was generously offered maintenance at Puckeshall by Henry IV.[66] _Jewish Converts._—The House of Converts was akin to a modern industrial home for destitute Jewish Christians, inmates being kept busily employed in school and workshop. During the century following the foundation of these “hospitals,” many converts are named, _Eve_, for instance, was received at Oxford, and _Christiana_ in London. Usually admitted after baptism, they were enrolled under their new names. _Philip_ had been baptized upon St. Philip and St. James’ Day, and _Robert Grosseteste_ was possibly godson of the bishop. Converts were brought from all parts. We find John and William of Lincoln, Isabel of Bristol and her boy, [p100] Isabel of Cambridge, Emma of Ipswich, etc.[67] A century later pensioners must have been immigrants, since all Jews resident in England had been expelled in 1290. A Flemish Jew, baptized at Antwerp in the presence of Edward III, was granted permission to dwell in the London institution with a life-pension of 2_d._ a day:— “Inasmuch as our beloved Edward of Brussels has recently abandoned the superstitious errors of Judaism . . . and because we rejoice in Christ over his conversion, and lest he should recede from the path of truth upon which he has entered, because of poverty . . . we have granted to him a suitable home in our House of Converts.” Theobald de Turkie, “a convert to the Catholic Faith,” was afterwards received, together with pensioners from Spain, Portugal, France, and Italy. A chamber was granted to Agnes, an orphan Jewess of tender age and destitute of friends, the child of a convert-godson of Edward II. A later inmate, of whose circumstances we would fain know more, was Elizabeth, daughter of Rabbi Moyses, called “bishop of the Jews” (1399). Converts frequently had royal sponsors. Henry V stood godfather to Henry Stratford, who lived in the _Domus Conversorum_ from 1416–1441. There was a certain risk in being called after the sovereign, nor was it unknown for the king’s converts to change their names. As late as 1532 Katharine of Aragon and Princess Mary stood sponsor to two Jewesses. (iii) INMATES OF SOME LAZAR-HOUSES (1) _Lincoln Invalids._—Near Lincoln is a spot still pointed out as the “Lepers’ Field.” Formerly it was known as the Mallardry or as Holy Innocents’ hospital. [p101] Had one visited this place in the days of Edward I, ten of the king’s servants—lepers or decrepit persons—would have been found there, together with two chaplains and certain brethren and sisters. Thomas, a maimed clerk, was one of the staff, but after thirty years he incurred the jealousy of his companions, who endeavoured to ruin his character while he was absent on business. Brother Thomas appealed to the king, and justice was administered (1278). Some time afterwards the household became so quarrelsome that the king issued a writ, and a visitation was held in 1291 to set matters straight. In 1290 William le Forester was admitted to the lepers’ quarters, his open-air life not having saved him from disease. Dionysia, a widow, took up her abode as a sister the same year, and remained until her death, when another leper was assigned her place. An old servant of the house past work was admitted as pensioner, and also a blind and aged retainer whose faithfulness had reduced him to poverty, he having served in Scotland and having moreover lost all his horses, waggons and goods in the Welsh rebellion. But strangest of all the residents in the hospital of Holy Innocents was the condemned criminal Margaret Everard. She was not a leper, but had once been numbered among the dead. Mistress Everard, of Burgh-by-Waynflete, was a widow, convicted of “harbouring a thief, namely, Robert her son, and hanged on the gallows without the south gate of Lincoln.” Now the law did not provide interment for its victims, but it seems that the Knights Hospitallers of Maltby paid a yearly sum to the lepers for undertaking this work of mercy at Canwick.[68] On this memorable [p102] occasion, however, the body being cut down and already removed near the place of burial—the lepers’ churchyard—the woman “was seen to draw a breath and revive.” We learn from a Patent Roll entry (1284) that pardon was afterwards granted to Margaret “because her recovery is ascribed to a miracle, and she has lived two years and more in the said hospital.” (2) _The Lancastrian falconer and Yorkist yeoman._—A certain Arnald Knyght, who had been falconer to Henry IV, Henry V, and Henry VI, caused a habitation to be built for himself on the site of the hospital by the Whiteditch, near Rochester, in order that there he might spend his days in divine service. In consideration of his age and of his infirmity of leprosy, Henry VI granted to Arnald and Geraldine his wife not only the building recently erected, but the lands and rents of St. Nicholas’ hospital. Edward IV afterwards granted a parcel of land between Highgate and Holloway to a certain leper-yeoman “to the intent that he may build a hospital for the relief of divers persons smitten with this sickness and destitute.” This man—half-founder, half-inmate—soon succumbed, for a record four years later states that “the new lazar-house at Highgate which the king lately caused to be made for William Pole . . . now deceased” was granted for life to another leper, Robert Wylson, a saddler, who had served well “in divers fields and elsewhere.”[69] (3) _The Mayor of Exeter._—Shortly before 1458, St. Mary Magdalene’s, Exeter, had a prominent inmate in the sometime mayor, Richard Orenge. In 1438 Richard William, [p103] _alias_ Richard Orenge, is mentioned as a tailor; he is also described as being a man of French extraction and of noble family. Once he had been official patron of the asylum, but when the blow fell, he threw in his lot with those to whom he had formerly been bountiful. There, Izacke says, he finished his days and was buried in the chapel. [Illustration: 15. SEAL OF KNIGHTSBRIDGE HOSPITAL] (4) _Two Norfolk lepers._—We learn incidentally through a lawsuit that about the year 1475 the vicar of Foulsham, Thomas Wood, was in seclusion in a London lazar-house:—“and nowe it is said God hathe visited the seid parsone with the sekenes of lepre and is in the Spitell howse of knygtyes brygge beside Westminster.”[70] Why the priest came up from the country to Knightsbridge does not appear; it would seem, however, that the Norfolk manor was temporarily in the king’s hands, so that possibly the crown bailiff procured his removal. One of the latest leper-inmates whose name is recorded ended his days at Walsingham. The patron of the Spital-house left it in 1491 to John Ederyche, a leper of Norwich, and Cecily his wife, stipulating that after their decease, one or two lepers—“men of good conversation and honest disposition”—should be maintained there. [p104] (iv) SOLITARY OUTCASTS It must not be supposed that there were no lepers save those living in community. To use the old phrase, there was the man who dwelt in a several house and he who was forced to join the congregation without the camp. To lepers “whether recluses or living together” the Bishop of Norwich bequeathed five pounds (1256). Hermit-lazar and hospital-lazar alike fulfilled the legal requirement of separation. It may be noticed that the service at seclusion implies that the outcast may dwell alone. In early records, before the king habitually imposed “corrodies” on charitable institutions, pensioners are named who were not inhabiting lazar-houses. Philip the clerk was assigned a tenement in Portsmouth, which was afterwards granted to God’s House on condition that Philip was maintained for life, or that provision was made for him to go to the Holy Land (1236). Long afterwards, in 1394, Richard II pensioned a groom of the scullery from the Exchequer, but provided for one of his esquires in a hospital.[71] In hermitage and hospital alike service was rendered to the leper in his loneliness. The little cell and chapel at Roche in Cornwall is said to have been a place of seclusion for one “diseased with a grievous leprosy.” Since no leper might draw from a spring, his daughter Gundred fetched him water from the well and daily ministered to his wants. Mediæval poems tell of solitary or wandering lepers as well as of those residing in communities. In the romance _Amis and Amiloun_, the gentle knight is stricken with [p105] leprosy. His lady fair and bright expels him from his own chamber. He eats at the far end of the high table until the lady refuses to feed a _mesel_ at her board—“he is so foule a thing.” His presence becoming intolerable, a little lodge is built half a mile from the gate. The child Owen alone is found to serve Sir Amiloun, fetching food for his master until he is denied succour and driven away. Knight and page betake themselves to a shelter near a neighbouring market-town, and depend for a time upon the alms of passers-by. The next stage is that of wandering beggars.[72] In the _Testament of Cresseid_ the leper-heroine begged to go in secret wise to the hospital, where, being of noble kin, they took her in with the better will. She was conveyed thither by her father, who daily sent her part of his alms. But Cresseid could not be resigned to her affliction, and in a dark corner of the house alone, weeping, she made her moan. A leper-lady, an old inmate, tries in vain to reconcile her to her fate—it is useless to spurn herself against the wall, and tears do but double her woe—but in vain:— “Thus chiding with her drerie destenye, Weiping scho woik the nicht fra end to end.” This “Complaynt of Cresseid” is affecting in its description of the lamentable lot of a woman whose high estate is turned into dour darkness: for her bower a leper-lodge; for her bed a bunch of straw; for wine and meat mouldy bread and sour cider. Her beautiful face is deformed, and her carolling voice, hideous as a rook’s. Under these sad conditions, Cresseid dwells for the rest of her life in the spital.[73] FOOTNOTES: [62] Surtees Soc., Vol. 20, pp. 376, 432–3, 456–7. [63] Chron. and Mem., 67, i. 428–9. [64] Chron. and Mem., 36, iv. p. 413. [65] Close 8 Edw. II, m. 35 _d_. [66] Pat. 8 Ric. II, pt. ii. m. 22; 9 Hen. IV, pt. ii. m. 14. [67] Close Rolls _passim_. [68] P.R.O. Chanc. Misc. Bundle 20, No. 10. [69] Pat. 21 Hen. VI, pt. i. m. 35, pt. ii. m. 16; 12 Edw. IV, pt. ii. m. 6; 17 Edw. IV, pt. i. m. 1. [70] P.R.O., Early Chancery Proceedings, Bundle 60, No. 93. [71] Pat. 20 Hen. III, m. 13; 17 Ric. II, pt. ii. m. 14. [72] H. M. Weber, _Metrical Romances_, II, 269. [73] R. Henryson, _Testament of Cresseid_ (Bannatyne Club). [p106]