The fame belonging to this noble foundation exceeded that of any other great building in England.  An old writer tells us, “Kings and queens, not only of the West Saxons, but of other kingdoms; several archbishops and bishops; many dukes; and the nobility of both sexes thought themselves happy in increasing the revenues of this venerable house, to ensure themselves a place of burial therein.”  The story of the burial of St. Joseph of Arimathaea at Glastonbury, to us a mere shadowy legend, was accepted as a fact in the early English ages, and that it figured in the mind of these worthies as endowing Glastonbury with extraordinary sanctity is beyond doubt.

At the time of the Dissolution no corruption whatever was revealed at Glastonbury, nor any blame recorded against its management.  It was still doing splendid work, having daily services and extending its educational influence for miles around.  There was but scanty comfort for its inmates, who rested on a straw mattress and bolster on their narrow bedstead in a bare cell, and whose food, duties and discipline were marked by an austere simplicity.  Nor were they idle, these monks of Glastonbury—­some taught in the abbey school, others toiled in the orchards, and the beauty of the stained glass, designed within the abbey walls, found fame far and wide.

Richard Whiting was Abbot of Glastonbury when, in 1539, Henry VIII. ordered inquiries to be made into the condition and property of the abbey.  Altho he recognized the monarch as supreme head of the church, he respected the Glastonbury traditions and met the “visitors” in a spirit of passive resistance.  With the object of preserving them from desecration, the abbot had concealed some of the communion vessels, and for this offense the venerable man was tried and condemned to death.  His head, white with the touch of eighty years, was fixt upon the abbey gate, and the rest of his body quartered and sent to Bath, Wells, Bridgwater, and Ilchester.  The abbey building—­one of the most perfect examples of architecture in the land—­served as a stone quarry, much of the material being used to make a road over the fenland from Glastonbury to Wells.  The revenue at the time of the Dissolution was over L3,000, a big income in those days.

Tintern [Footnote:  From “The Abbeys of Great Britain.”]

BY H. CLAIBORNE DIXON

More than one great artist has immortalized the secluded vale, where, on a bend of the Wye and surrounded by wooded hills, the ruins of Tintern Abbey stand.  The somber-looking heights, which close in to the east and west, create the atmosphere of loneliness and separation from the world so sought after by the Cistercian monks, who doubtless found inspiration in the grandeur of the surrounding mountains and in the peacefulness of the sweet valley below.  Tho the church of the Early English abbey is roofless and the central tower gone, the noble structure, with its many graceful arches, seems to attest to the spirit of religious fervor and devotion so intimately associated with the history of its gray and lichen-covered walls.