OLD CLEEVE ABBEY. 75 
the honour of God far greater, I fear, than can generally 
be found in these more enlightened and practical, but less 
loving and devoted days. And yet, though deservedly 
interesting, monastic remains are, perhaps, of all ancient 
relics, those whose history is most completely forgotten in 
their own neighbourhood. Every castle has its own tradi- 
tions of war, splendour, and suffering—every earth-work, 
even those of the earliest date, has its own tale of blood- 
shed or superstition. But the same peasant who will tell 
you that the Romans ceonstructed this camp, and that the 
Danes were defeated at another, and knows the names and 
relates the deeds of valour or oppression of the warlike 
barons who built and inhabited each castle, will probably, 
when questioned as to the monastic ruins, however beauti- 
ful or extensive, only answer that he has heard that the 
monks lived there formerly, and, if pressed more closely, 
will speak of a dark figure, or more commonly of a white 
lady, who is said to haunt the ruins, It is not among the 
uneducated classes alone that this ignorance with regard to 
monastic institutions prevails.. We have, generally speak- 
ing, very vague notions of what they really were. Ac- 
cording to the bias of our minds, we look upon them either 
as the seats of piety and devotion, or as the habitation of 
laziness, luxury, and profligacy ; as the abodes of learning 
and religion, or as the strongholds of ignorance and super- 
stition ; as the residences of men devoted to the service of 
God, or as dens polluted by monsters of hypocrisy, cruelty, 
and sensuality. Now, it needs but little thought to con- 
vince us that no one of these views is correct. Men have 
always been men, and good and bad have always been 
mixed together in human institutions—there have been 
good and bad monks and nuns, as there have been good 
and bad members of every other profession. Nor are we 
