But as with all other human institutions, these good ideals perished in the course of time. Men did not continue to live up to the rules of their Order. Even in Chaucer’s time—that is, before the year 1400—the typical monk had travelled far away from his vows of poverty and obedience. Full many a dainty horse had he in stable. * * * * * * Greyhounds he had as swift as fowls in flight; Of riding and of hunting for the hare Was his delight, for no cost would he spare. * * * * * * He was not pale as a tormented ghost, A fat swan loved he best of any roast. Chaucer’s friar was likewise a wanton and merry man, who knew the taverns well in every town. His tippet was aye stuffèd full of knives, And pins also, fit for to give fair wives. And certainly he had a merry note, Well could he sing and play upon a rote.[32] Footnote 32: A violin with three strings. XV. SAINT JOHN OF BEVERLEY AND HIS MINSTER. [Illustration: ARMS OF BEVERLEY MINSTER. ] Each of two East Riding villages, Harpham and Cherry Burton, claims to be the birthplace of Saint John of Beverley. His date of birth is even more uncertain than his place of birth; but we know that he was sent to school at the monastery at Canterbury, and afterwards became an inmate of the famous monastery of St. Hilda at Whitby. Then he was for nineteen years Bishop of Hexham, and finally, in 705 or 706, was ‘translated’ to York, and thus became the fifth in the long line of eighty-nine Archbishops from Paulinus to Cosmo Lang. While John was Bishop of Hexham he purchased a plot of ground in Beverley, and on it built a church which he placed in charge of a small number of canons. The surrounding country was then nothing but swamp and forest—the swamps of the river Hull and the wild woodland whose name has come down to us as ‘Beverley Westwood.’ So fond of this church was John, that in 718 he gave up his Archbishopric and retired to Beverley, where he died three years later. John’s church suffered the fate which came to nearly all the monasteries and churches of those far-off times. The ravaging Northmen fell upon it, and it was not till the reign of King Aethelstan that it recovered from their attacks. Then its fame began to grow. In 934 Aethelstan was marching north to make war upon the Scots, and when at Lincoln met—so the story runs—a band of pilgrims who joyously declared that they had been healed of all manner of diseases by visiting the tomb of the blessed John of Beverley. Their story induced the King to pay a visit to the same tomb; so he journeyed directly north, crossed the Humber, and went on to Beverley, while his army went round by the longer branch of the old Roman road to York.