[Illustration: _The Door into the Cloister._
the capricious nature of the climate of Tinterne, where the transitions from a winter to a high summer temperature, and _vice versa_, are so frequent and remarkable.
<g>Incidental Remarks.</g>--During the plunder of this abbey church, which was long carried on with impunity, many interesting relics of antiquity appear to have been either mutilated, or carried off and sold. Among other fragments of ancient art, was a brass hand grasping a spear, taken from a tomb in the church in which was found a body entire, with leathern buskins, and buttons on the coat; but which, on exposure to the air, crumbled into dust. Human skeletons, we are told, were found in an orchard to the eastward, formerly the abbey cemetery. From the size of these--monks or soldiers--it was ascertained that their living owners must have been considerably beyond the common stature. On the legs of one of them were found cloth buskins in apparent preservation; while the metal studs, or buttons, it is added, were almost bright. No coffins were found; the bodies were simply deposited under large flat stones; and were probably of an order inferior to those interred within the church. Adjoining the north door, a portion of wall, long supposed to be the side of a cloister, was at last stripped of the ivy that covered it, and disclosed a range of fine Gothic windows.[177] And when the rubbish that encumbered the entrance leading into the cross aisle was removed, two stones were found inscribed with the following memorials:--
<g>Hic jacet Johannes de Lynas. Hic jacet Henricus de Lancaut.</g>[178]
At the entrance by the west doorway a flight of steps was also discovered, which at the time was supposed to communicate with a vault, or crypt, under the church. But the passage was not explored; and the stone with which the opening was originally covered, was restored to its place. It is the opinion of antiquaries, however, that there is no crypt, or vault, under the church. Of
<g>Tinterne village</g>, which still seems to derive its support from casual visitors to the abbey, much cannot be said in commendation. Little, if any improvement seems to have been made for many years, owing, we were told, to the restrictions laid upon building. With encouragement in this respect alone--or even with the ordinary accommodations of a spacious inn[179]--the place might speedily change its complexion, and become a cheerful and thriving hamlet. But, as in the days of Gilpin, it presents nothing inviting. The penury of the inhabitants may be less remarkable; “but they still occupy little huts raised among the ruins of the monastery, and seem as if a place, once devoted to indolence, could never again become the seat of industry.” “As we left the abbey,” says he, “we found the whole hamlet at the gate, either openly soliciting alms, or covertly, under pretence of carrying us to some part of the ruins which each could show, and which was far superior to anything which could be shown by any one else. The most lucrative occasion could hardly have excited more jealousy and contention.” In the present day, the duties of the abbey _cicerone_ are performed by a sensible and well-informed guide, named Christian Payne.
