The lives of the English saints

LIBRARY ST. MARY'S COLLEGE

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NEWMAN'S LIVES OF THE
ENGLISH SAINTS

VOL. V.

MANSUETI HJEREDITABUNT TERRAM

ET DELECTABUNTUR
IN MULTITUDINE PACIS

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"THE'LIVESOF
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VOLUME FIVE

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CONTENTS

ST. WULSTAN

CHAP. PAGE

LIFE OF ST. WULSTAN 3

ST. AELRED

PREFACE 53

I. INTRODUCTION 55

THE OLD MONASTERY 6 1

II. THE REFORMATION IN SCOTLAND . . . 72

III. THE STRUGGLE 93

IV. THE BATTLE OF THE STANDARD . . . 112

V. THE CISTERCIAN NOVICE . . . . 122

VI. THE SPIRIT OF CITEAUX . . . .139

VII. THE WORLD IN THE CHURCH . . . 149

VIII. THE CISTERCIAN ABBOT .... 167

IX. CISTERCIAN TEACHING 191

ST. NINIAN

ADVERTISEMENT . . . . . .213

I. INTRODUCTION 215

ii. ST. NINIAN'S EARLY DAYS 226

vi CONTENTS

CHAP. PAGE

in. ST. NINIAN'S RIPER YEARS .... 240

iv. ST. NINIAN'S JOURNEY TO ROME . . .259

v. ST. NINIAN'S LIFE AT ROME . . .275

vi. ST. NINIAN'S RETURN TO BRITAIN . . 296

VII. ST. NINIAN IN GALLOWAY .... 308
VIII. CONVERSION OF THE PICTS .... 345

ix. ST. NINIAN'S LATTER DAYS . . . .356

X. CONCLUSION 368

ST. WALTHEOF AND ST. ROBERT OF
NEWMINSTER

INTRODUCTION .381

ST. WALTHEOF 396

ST. ROBERT 429

LIFE OF
ST. WULSTAN,

BISHOP OF WORCESTER, CIRC. A.D. IOO8-IO95.

VOL. V.

LIFE OF
ST. WULSTAN

BISHOP OF WORCESTER, CIRC. A.D.

ST. WULSTAN'S history has many points of interest.
He was the last Saint of the Anglo-Saxon Church.
His name closed the roll of that company so excellent
and numerous, which gained for England the title of
the Isle of Saints. He was the link between the old
English Church and hierarchy and the Norman ; he
saw the ruin of his people, but was spared himself.
And he was a type and representative, as complete
perhaps as could be found, of the religious character
of the Anglo-Saxon Church; plain, homely, and
simple-hearted, cherishing a popular and domestic
piety, rather dwelling on the great broad truths of the
gospel, than following them into their results ; scrup-
ulous and earnest in devotion ; without the refine-
ment, learning, and keen thought of the Normans,
yet full of fresh and genuine feeling, Wulstan was
a monk indeed, and an ascetic, but his vocation lay
not in the learned school or meditative cloister, but
among the people of the market-place and the village,
— his rough, yet hearty and affectionate countrymen.
The following account of him pretends not to be

4 ST. WULSTAN

a critical history ; it aims merely at giving the idea
of St. Wulstan which was impressed on the minds
of those who had seen him and lived with him.
They certainly believed that they saw in him the
tokens of saintliness — more than common humble-
ness and faith in God — and so they portrayed him ;
an image which moved them to greater self-control
and self-devotion, and gave them courage and hope
in their dark times, by assuring them that religion
was still a reality.1

Wulstan was born in the early years of the
eleventh century, in the days of the second Ethelred ;
the time when the greatness of Alfred and Ethelstan
was ending in unspeakable desolation. They were
as dreary and disastrous days as ever were seen in
England. The terrible idolaters of the north could
be kept off no longer, and were now working their
will upon the land, rendered tenfold more merciless
and savage by the massacre of St. Brice's day. Year
after year the scourge continued : — before the inland
country had heard that " the fleet " had been descried,
their grim and raging troops mounted on horses,

1 Et veterum quidem gestis pro antiquitatis assurgunt reverentia ;
sed alacriori capiuntur dulcedine, si alicujus Sancti, qui nuperrime
fuit, vita producatur in medium, in qua sicut e speculo conspicentur,
ut ita dictum sit, vivum religionis simulachrum. Accedit enim jocundse
relation! novitas ; ne aliquis desperet a se per Dei gratiam fieri] posse,
quod audit ab alio de proximo factum fuisse. . . . Quapropter benigno
lectori grande paciscor commodum ; ut quamquam B. Wulstanum non
minus quam priscos pro miraculorum gloria suscipiat familiaritas, tamen
pro recenti setate mores ejus semulo exercitii pede sequi contendat. —
Will. Malm. Prolog, in Vit. Wulstani. ap. Wharton, Angl. Sac. vol.
ii. p. 243.

ST. WULSTAN 5

were sweeping like wolves, over moor and hill,
through plain and valley, burning town and hamlet,
and leaving those who had given them hospitality,
murdered on their own hearths. The visitation
seemed to be too frightful to resist ; there was no
help for the " miserable people " in the king and his
chiefs ; on all sides was treachery, cowardice, or
hopeless imbecility and weakness ; all that the great
men found to do, was to plunder also, in order to
bribe the Danes ; meanwhile, as long as they might,
they feasted and revelled.

" Over midsummer," writes the contemporary
chronicler, in 1006, "came the Danish fleet to Sand-
wich, and did as they were wont ; they harried, and
burned, and slew, as they went Then the king
called out all the people of the West Saxons and
Mercians, and they lay out all the harvest in arms
against the Host ; but it availed nought more than
it had often done before ; but for all this the Host
went as they themselves would ; and the armed
gathering did the country folk all the harm, that
foeman's host from within or from abroad, could
do. About midwinter, the Host went out to their
ready store, through Hampshire into Berkshire, to
Reading. And there they did after their old wont ;
they lighted their camp-beacons as they went. . . .
And at Kennet they came to battle, and put the
English folk to flight, and then carried the prey of
their Host to the sea. There might the Winchester
folk see the proud and restless Host, as they passed
by their gates to the sea, and fetched food and
treasures more than fifty miles from the sea. Then
was the king gone over the Thames, into Shropshire,

6 ST. WULSTAN

and he took up his abode there in midwinter-tide.
Then was there so great fear of the Host, that no
man might think or devise how men should drive
them out of the land, or hold his land against them :
for they had roughly marked every shire in the
West Saxons with burning and harrying. Then
began the king in earnest to consult with his Witan,
what to all of them seemed the best counsel for to
defend this land, before it was utterly undone. Then
resolved the king and his Witan, for the behoof of
all the people, though they were all loth, that they
must needs pay tribute to the Host. Then the
king sent to the Host, and bade tell them that he
desired that there should be peace between them,
and that men should give tribute and food to them :
and they agreed to all these things, and men fed
them throughout England." J

Such were the reports brought year by year to
the Minsters of Peterborough and Worcester, and
recorded by their anxious inmates in their homely
but forcible style. The sickening tale came over
and over again — how navies were built at a great
charge, how some of the ships were wrecked or
burned, and how the king and the " Ealdormen," and
the " High Witan," lightly deserted the rest and went
home, and "let all the labour of the people perish
thus lightly, and the fear was not lessened, as all
England hoped," — how " the Host " came again to
the Wight, to Sussex, and Hampshire and Berkshire ;
— to Kent and London — through Chiltern to Oxford ;
northward to Bedford, eastward to the wild fens of
the East Angles, westward to Wiltshire, — how accord-

1 Saxon Chron. a. 1006.

ST. WULSTAN 7

ing to their wont, they were harrying and burning
for months together, " slaying both men and cattle " ;
— how when the king's army should have gone out
to meet them, they went home ; and " when they
were in the East, men kept the king's army in the
West, and when in the South, our army was in the
North " ; — how " whatever was advised stood not a
month," — how at length there was no chief who
would collect an army, but each was flying as he
could — how there was not a single shire that would
stand by another: — till at last the frightful news
came, that in spite of the tribute and the peace, they
had beset " Canterbury, and entered therein through
treachery ; for Elfman delivered the city to them,
whose life Archbishop Elfege had formerly saved."
This was the climax of horrors. The Danes
"returned to their ships, and led the Archbishop
with them, and they kept him with them till they
martyred him." This happened soon after. The
following Easter, says the chronicle, the great men
of England paid their tribute — eight and forty
thousand pounds — but the Archbishop would pay
nothing, for to satisfy the Danes, he must plunder
his tenantry. "Then on the Saturday was the
Host sore stirred against the Bishop ; because he
would not promise them any fee, and forbade that
any man should give any thing for him. They
were also very drunken, for there was wine brought
them from the South. Then took they the Bishop,
and led him to their 'hustings,' on the eve of the
Sunday after Easter, and there they shamefully
killed him. They overwhelmed him with bones
and horns of oxen ; and one of them smote him

8 ST. WULSTAN

with an axe-iron on the head, so that he sunk with
the blow ; and his holy blood fell on the earth, and
his holy soul was sent to the kingdom of God."1

Such were the scenes rife in England, in Wulstan's
early years ; he first knew it under a cloud. The
first he saw of it, showed it him as a land under
the scourge of strangers ; its name was associated
in his earliest impressions, not as now, with security
and greatness, but with dishonour and misery ; from
the first, the idea was made familiar to him, that
he lived among a people under God's judgment.
As he grew up, the prospect cleared for a while,
but the tokens and sights of his youth returned in
his old age. He lived nearly through the century ;
he saw it begin with the Danish harryings, and
end with the Norman conquest.

He was born at Long Itchington,2 a village in
Warwickshire, where his family had long been
settled, and where his parents, Athelstan and Wulf-
geva, were probably the chief people. He was
educated at the monasteries of Evesham and Peter-
borough, the latter one of the richest houses and
most famous schools in England. Here, in the
"Golden Burgh,"3 with the children, the " infantes"
of the convent, some of them already vowed to
religion, others preparing for the world without, he
enjoyed what education a Saxon monastery could
give ; he was broken in to a life of hardship and
self-discipline ; taught to rise before day, and to
take a special part in the sacred service ; in the
morning he chanted, in the afternoon he was taught

1 Saxon Chron. a. 1012.
2 Icentune. 3 Sax. Chr. 1066.

ST. WULSTAN 9

to write, to illuminate and bind books, or he learnt
Latin from interlinear translations, or from conning
over the pages of the Psalters and Sacramentaries
which were produced in the writing room of the
convent. The rod which punished the offences of
the grown - up brethren, was not spared to the
children. " Hast thou been flogged to-day ? " l asks
the imaginary master, in ^Elfric's Latin and Saxon
Dialogue ; to which the boy answers, as if it was
an exception, " No, for I behaved myself warily " ;
but he will not answer for his companions. "Why
do you ask me? I must not tell you our secrets.
Each one knows whether he was whipt or not."
The same book, perhaps composed for Peterborough,
and from which Wulstan may have learnt his Latin,
gives an account how the children spent their day.
" To-day," says the boy in the Dialogue, " I have
done many things ; this night, when I heard the
knell, I arose from my bed, and went to Church,
and sang night-song with the brethren ; and after
that, we sang the service of All Saints, and the
morning lauds ; then Prime, and the Seven Psalms
with the Litanies, and the first mass ; then Tierce,
and the mass of the day ; then we sang the mid-
day hour ; and we ate, and drank, and went to sleep,
and rose again, and sang Nones. And now we are
here before thee, ready to hear what thou wilt say
to us." They were allowed to eat meat, because
" they were still children under the rod " ; they drank
ale if they could get it, else water ; but wine " they
were not rich enough to buy, and besides, it was
not the drink of children and foolish persons, but

1 In Thorpe's Analecta, pp. 116, 117.

io ST. WULSTAN

of old men and wise." " Who awakens you," says
the Master, " to night-song ? " " Sometimes I hear
the knell, and rise, sometimes the master wakes me
roughly with his rod." School is the same at all
times.

Under this discipline, Wulstan made good pro-
gress. He was thoughtful above his years ; he
voluntarily submitted to exercises and self-denials
from which the children were excused, and formed
a habit of continually applying examples of excel-
lence which were brought before him, whether living
or departed, to his own improvement.

From the minster schools at Peterborough, Wul-
stan returned home, to live in the country, in his
father's hall, a Thane's son, who might one day be
a Thane himself, among his father's dependants,
and friends, and enemies, with such amusements
and such business as Thanes' sons followed. He
was beautiful in face, and of a well-formed person ;
active and dexterous, of free and engaging manners,
and he entered with zest into the society and sports
of his companions. The life of ease and idleness
is a dangerous life at all times ; and it was especi-
ally so then. Besides the temptations of birth and
rank and freedom and personal attractions, the dis-
orders of the times left all men very much to their
own ways ; yet the young Thane's son fell not.

At length came one of those events which give a
turn to a man's character for life. A young woman
of the neighbourhood became his temptress. Her
wiles, often repeated, were in vain. But on a day,
when in a crowded field, he had won the prize in
some trial of speed or strength, in the excitement

ST. WULSTJAN n

of victory and exertion, she approached him. He
had never before felt the allurements of her pres-
ence, but now he wavered. It was a sharp struggle,
but he was true, and it was a short one. He rushed
from the scene of mirth and sport, and threw him-
self down in a solitary place, among brushwood and
furze, and there he wept over the thought of sin
which he had indulged. He lay there long, and
fell asleep. When he awoke, his soul was clear
and fresh, and from that time he was never again
tempted. His friends said that he had spoken of a
miracle — of a bright cloud descending and enveloping
him, and of the dew of heaven, which quenched in
him for ever the fires of sin ; and that this cloud was
beheld by his companions. But whether or not they
understood him aright, the trial itself, the victory and
the reward, formed an epoch in his life.

Time went on ; and his father and mother, who
had grown old, came down in the world. They
went to Worcester ; and there, by mutual consent,
they both took the religious habit, and passed the
rest of their days in monasteries. Wulstan accom-
panied them, and entered the service of Brihtege,
the Bishop, that he might devote himself to the
service of the Church. The Bishop took him into
favour, and soon ordained him, though against his
will, to the priesthood.1

" A layman in his garb, a monk in his way of
life" — this is the description of him while a secular
priest. But having adopted the strictness, he wished
also for the helps and advantages of the monastic
life — the great refuge of religious minds in those
JA.D. 1033-38.

12 ST. WULSTAN

days, from a state of society where it was hard to
live pure and in peace. He declined, therefore, the
preferment which the bishop pressed upon him, and
obtained his permission to enter a monastic con-
gregation, where he continued for above twenty-
five years,1 rising through various offices, till he
became the Prior, or as it was then called, the
" Praepositus " of the monastery.2

They were years to him without much change or
eventfulness ; years of noiseless duty, and hidden
self-discipline. Wulstan, the holy monk of Wor-
cester, was heard of, indeed, in many parts of
England, and the proud Earl Harold was known
on one occasion to go thirty miles out of his way,
to make his confession to him, and beg his prayers.3
But little was seen or felt of him beyond Worcester
and its neighbourhood. There, those who lived
about him saw a man of kind yet blunt and homely
speech, of frank and unpretending demeanour, who
had a word for every one, and always the right
word ; who was at at every one's service, and was
never wearied of his work ; a man of not much
learning, but who had all that was within his reach ;
who had made the Gospels his daily meditation,
and knew the Psalms by heart ; whose voice, when
he preached, seemed to the people to have the
dignity, the sweetness, and the awfulness of an
apostle's ; a man who, humble and cheerful as he
was, could be stern in rebuke, and decisive in action,
when sin offended him ; a man who was always in
earnest, in the minutest details of life. There was

1 Until 1062. 2 Will. Malms. Vit. S. Wulstani, p. 247, c. v.

3 Will. Malms. Vit. S. Wulstani, p. 248, c. vii.

ST. WULSTAN 13

no mistaking in him the man of God. In those days,
indeed, character expressed itself, and was noticed,
with a grotesque simplicity, at which, so that we do
not sneer, we may be pardoned for smiling, for our
times are different ; but we must be more blind than
men were then, if in the plain rough-hewn Anglo-
Saxon monk, we cannot discern, as they did, high
goodness and faith, and a genuine English heart.

"The devotional duties," says his biographer,
"which we in our laziness count a great punish-
ment, he reckoned among his greatest pleasures.
Every day at each verse of the Seven Psalms, he
bent the knee, and the same at the upth Psalm
at night. In the west porch of the Church, where
was the Altar of All Saints, with the trophy of the
Lord's banner, he would lock himself in, and there
call upon Christ with tears and cries. His sleep
was snatched as it were by stealth ; his bed was
the church floor or a narrow board — a book or the
altar steps, his pillow. Every day he visited the
eighteen altars that were in the old Church, bowing
seven times before each." Often in the evening,
he used to retire from the crowd and noise of the
city, and the companionship of the convent, to some
solitary spot in the outskirts — the graves of the
dead, or the empty silent village church, whose
stillness was only broken by his chant and prayers.
In these lonely hours, when other men trembled,
he walked without fear ; and it was told how that
the spirit of darkness had once assaulted him, while
kneeling before the altar, and how Wulstan had
boldly wrestled with him, and though he felt his
fiery breath, had thrice overthrown him.

i4 ST. WULSTAN

Day and night he served God in the temple with
fasting and prayers, yet none the less did he serve
his brethren. The common people especially looked
upon him as their friend. He often finished his
daily devotions very early in the morning, and then
gave up the rest of the day till noon or evening,
to the wants and business of the poor. He used
to sit at the Church door, accessible to all who
came ; listening to complaints, redressing wrongs,
helping those who were in trouble, giving advice
spiritual and temporal. In the troubles of the
times, great abuses had sprung up among the rude
Clergy, who served in the country parishes ; they
scarcely ever preached, and they are accused of the
terrible practice of refusing baptism to the children
of the poor who could not pay for it. Wulstan did
his best to remedy this evil. From all parts of
the neighbouring country the peasants brought
their children to Wulstan to be baptized, and the
same became a fashion even among the rich. He
also took up the neglected work of preaching with
zeal and ability. Every Sunday and great Festival,
he preached to the people. " His words," says his
biographer, " as he uttered them to the people from
on high in the pulpit, seemed to be the voice of
thunder, issuing from the shrine of a prophet or
evangelist ; they lighted like bolts upon the wicked ;
they fell like showers upon the elect." And speak-
ing of a later period, he says, "All his life, he so
drew the common people to him by the fame of
his preaching, that ye might see them flocking
together in crowds, wherever it was reported that
he was to dedicate a Church. He also so chose

ST. WULSTAN 15

his subjects, that he was ever sounding forth
Christ's name, ever setting Christ forth to his
hearers, ever, if I may so speak, drawing Christ
by violence to his side." The offence which his
zeal gave did not stop him ; and a story went
about how a monk who was displeased with his un-
wonted energy, and who reproved him for taking on
him a duty that did not belong to him, was punished
in a vision for his interference and ill nature.

Thus did Wulstan labour on year after year,
zealously and earnestly, though very likely we
should be surprised if we knew all that he did and
said. For he was not the religious man of a
romance, but of the plain-speaking, plain-dealing
eleventh century ; and we should no doubt find
his religion not confining itself to what at a dis-
tance at least looks high and great — enlightening
the ignorant, comforting the unhappy, defending
the unprotected — but running on into a number
of subjects with which sentiment has little to do.
We should find him combating pride and self-will
and love of pleasure in great detail, and in a very
matter-of-fact and unequivocal way. We should
find, for instance, that he thought that greediness
was a common fault even among grown-up men
and women ; — certainly in his day they did not
care to disguise from themselves that they found
considerable pleasure in eating and drinking : — and
that he looked on it rather seriously and severely.
He was not above confessing that a savoury roast
goose which was preparing for his dinner had once
so taken up his thoughts, that he could not attend
to the service he was performing, and that he had

16 ST. WULSTAN

punished himself for it, and given up the use of
meat in consequence. And the summary and prac-
tical measure which he dealt out to himself, he could
extend on occasion to others. Short words and a
rough buffet were all the courtesy he extended to sin
and impudence, even in a woman of rank and wealth.
At length, about the year 1062, two Roman
Cardinals, Hermenfred, Bishop of Sion, and another,
came to Worcester, with Aldred the late Bishop,
who had been made Archbishop of York, and
who with some reluctance had just resigned his
former charge, which had often of late been held
together with York. They were entertained at the
Cathedral monastery, where Wulstan was Prior, and
there they spent the whole of Lent. This time was
kept by Wulstan with special severity. As a cour-
teous host, he left nothing undone which was due
to his guests from English hospitality and bounty ;
but he himself adhered rigorously to his accustomed
rules ; he omitted none of his prayers, and relaxed
none of his abstinence. All night long he con-
tinued in prayer, even after the night Psalms were
ended. Three times in the week he tasted nothing
day or night, and during this time never broke
silence ; the other three days his food was bread
and common vegetables, and on Sunday he added
some fish and wine, "out of reverence for the
Festival." Every day he received and ministered to
three poor men, supplying to them their daily bread
and washing their feet. When Easter came, the
Cardinals returned to King Edward's court, and
when the question arose, who was to be the new
Bishop of Worcester, they mentioned with high

ST. WULSTAN 17

admiration the name of the austere and hard-
working Prior, of whose way of life they had lately
been daily witnesses. Their recommendation was
taken up and seconded by the great English Lords
at Court, — Earls Harold and Elfgar, Archbishop
Stigand of Canterbury, and after some hesitation
between Wulstan and another, by Aldred, the late
Bishop. The popular voice at Worcester itself, was
allowed by King Edward to express itself, and was
equally strong in his favour ; and his election being
confirmed by the king, Wulstan was .summoned to
Court, to be invested with the Bishopric. He heard
of his election with sorrow and vexation, and strongly
resisted, declaring with an oath, that he would rather
lose his head than be made Bishop. His friends
long argued with him in vain ; but he was cowed
at last by the words of an old hermit named Wulfsy,
who had lived in solitude for forty years. Wulfsy
rebuked him sternly for his obstinacy, and his dis-
obedience to the will of those around him, and
threatened him with God's wrath if he still made
opposition. Then he yielded. He received the
pastoral staff from the hands of the Confessor, and
on the feast of St. Mary's Nativity, he was con-
secrated l by Archbishop Aldred. 2 His prognostic
verse, the supposed omen of his future administration,
was " Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no
guile " ; and his career as a Bishop fulfilled it. The
Normans when they came in, thought him, like
his Church, old-fashioned, homely, and unrefined ;

1 September 8, 1062.

2 Stigand, the Primate, was under interdict. "But Wulstan," says
Florence of Worcester, "made his Canonical profession to the Arch-
bishop of Canterbury, Stigand, not to Aldred his ordainer."

VOL. V. B

i8 ST. WULSTAN

but even they were obliged to admire, though in an
Englishman, his unworldliness and activity, and the
freshness and heartiness of his character ; and their
literature has preserved his memorial.

His life as a monk had not been, as in the case
of the great strangers who were soon to take charge
of the English Church, that of a man of study and
thoughtful retirement. His work had always been
of an active and popular kind ; ministering to the
common people, supplying the deficiencies of the
parochial Clergy, and preaching. And his Epis-
copate was of the same character. His care for
his diocese, and his constant personal oversight of
it were the points which struck his contemporaries.
His practice seems to have been to be continually
visiting some part or other of it. He travelled about
on horseback with his retinue of clerks and monks.
As they rode along, he repeated the Psalter, the
Litanies, and the office for the dead, the attendants
taking up the responses, or aiding his memory when
it failed. His chamberlain always had a purse
ready, and "no one ever begged of Wulstan in
vain." He never passed a Church or Oratory, how-
ever hurried he might be, without stopping to pray
there ; and when he reached his halting place for
the night, before he retired to rest his first care
was to go and "salute the Church." In these pro-
gresses, he came into personal contact with all his
flock, high and low — with the rude crowds, beggars
and serfs, craftsmen and labourers, as well as with
priests and nobles. When the Archdeacon gave
notice of the Bishop's approach, the people poured
out to meet him, to look on him, to ask his aid or

ST. WULSTAN 19

counsel. They coitfessed their sins to him, for men
would open their hearts to him who would do so
to no one else : they flocked to hear him preach,
for no one in England so touched the hearts of the
common people, and "he never sent them away
without saying mass and preaching." He pleaded
the cause of the poor ; he reconciled those who were
at variance, and it was believed that terrible judg-
ments fell on those who despised his mediation.

The "chiefest" in his diocese, he made himself
the " servant of all " ; — his time, his exertions, his
personal presence, were denied to none who claimed
them ; all who came to him he saw ; and wherever
he was called he went, "so that he seemed not so
much to travel as to fly from one part of his diocese
to another." But to him the most touching claim
and the most sacred duty was when children came
to him to be confirmed. To this every thing else
gave way ; business was to be broken off* — retire-
ment, rest, devotion given up, to attend at once on
Christ's little ones ; and from sunrise to sunset, on
a long summer's day, he would go on without
tasting food, giving the sacramental seal and his
benediction to batch after batch, as they came and
knelt before him, till his attendants and clerks were
fairly wearied out ; while he himself seemed proof
against fatigue.

He was a great Church builder : he took care
that on each of his own manors there should be a
Church, and was very urgent with other Lords to
follow his example. The Cathedral of his See,
which he rebuilt, and the old ruined Church of
Westbury, which he restored, and made the seat

20 ST. WULSTAN

of a monastic congregation, are especially men-
tioned as instances of his zeal. But he cared little
about ornament or beauty in his churches. The
Saxons generally had no taste either in their
domestic or public buildings for that architectural
grandeur of which the Normans had formed so
magnificent an idea, and of which they were so
passionately fond. And when the vast Cathedrals
and Abbeys of the Norman Prelates were rising
throughout England, those who kept up the old
feelings of the days of King Edward saw little to
admire in them.1 Wulstan, who was thoroughly a
man of the old English school, looked with dislike
and contempt on what he considered a mere taste
and fashion of .the day, ministering chiefly to human
pride and vain glory. When his new Cathedral
was ready for use, the old one which had been
built by St. Oswald was to be demolished. Wulstan
stood in the churchyard, and looked on sadly and
silently, while the workmen began to unroof it.
At last he burst into tears. The monks were
surprised at his being downcast on such a day ;
he ought, they said, to rejoice, at the honour and
grace which God had vouchsafed to the Church.
" Nay, it is not so " ; he said, " we, poor creatures
that we are, are destroying the work of Saints,
and think in our pride that we improve upon it.
Those blessed men knew not how to build fine

1 Vide W. Malm, de G. Pontif. p. 256, of Osbern, Bishop of Exeter,
"unde in victualibus et casteris rebus ad Anglicos mores pronior,
Normannorum pompam suspiciebat, consuetudines Domini sui R.
Edwardi efferens, et cum per alios exhiberentur cum assidentibus
manu et gestu aggaudens. Ita pro more antiquorum praesulum
veteribus contentus sedificiis," etc.

ST. WULSTAN 21

churches, but they knew how to sacrifice themselves
to God whatever roof might be over them, and to
draw their flocks after them. But all we think of
is to rear up piles of stones, while we care not
for souls."

Yet with a life of pastoral activity, Wulstan still
retained the devotional habits of the cloister, and
its simple and severe mode of life. "Whether he
lay down, or rose up, whether he were walking or
sitting, a psalm was in his mouth, and Christ in
his heart." His first words on awaking were a
psalm ; the last words which he heard before going
to sleep, were from some homily or legend, which
was read to him while he was lying down to rest.
He attended the same services to which he had
been bound when in the monastery, and all his
manor-houses had a little chapel attached to them,
where he used to lock himself in, when business,
or the public service, did not call him. His atten-
dants remembered how earnest, as well as frequent,
he was in prayer ; and how, when he came to a
verse in the Psalter, which expressed strong feeling
towards God, such as the verse, "Bow down thine
ear, O Lord, and hear me, for I am poor and in
misery," he would repeat it two or three times
over, with up-lifted eyes. And he was very strict
in requiring from his monks and those about him
an exact performance of that regular worship for
which monasteries were founded. If one of the
brethren was absent from the night - service, he
took no notice at the time, but when the others
had retired to their beds to wait for morning, he
used quietly to wake the absentee, and make him

22 ST. WULSTAN

go through the appointed office, himself remaining
with him, and making the responses.

His warmth and scrupulousness were not always to
the taste of his attendants : his monks often thought
him very tiresome. When they were chanting the
Psalter with him on horseback, on their journeys,
he used often to put them out, by his habit,
mentioned above, of repeating over and over again,
the " prayer verses," " to the weariness of his
fellow chanters."1

His biographer tells a story which shews the
trials to which he used to expose his clerics'
patience, and the way in which they sometimes
revenged themselves. It is characteristic of both
parties. " He always went to Church, to chant
matins," says the biographer, "however far off it
might be ; whether it was snowing or raining,
through muddy roads or fog, to Church he must
go ; he cared for nothing, so that he got there ;
and truly he might say to Almighty God, ' Lord,
I have loved the habitation of thy house.' Once,
when he was staying at Marlow,2 on his way to
court at Christmas tide, according to his wont he
told his attendants that he was going early to the
Church. The Church was a long way off; the
deep mire of the road might have deterred a
walker, even by daylight, and there was besides,
a sleety drizzle falling. His clerics mentioned
these inconveniences, but he was determined ; he
would go, even if no one went with him, only would

1 "Orationales versus, usque ad fastidium concantantis." — De Gest.
Pontif. 280.

2 Marlow was a manor of Earl Algar, afterwards given to Queen
Matilda. — Doomsday, Bucks. Hi.

ST. WULSTAN 23

they show him the way. The clerics were obliged
to yield, and concealed their annoyance. But one
of them, named Frewen, a hot - tempered fellow,
to make matters worse, took hold of the Bishop's
hand, and guided him where the swamp was
deepest, and the road roughest. The bishop sank
up to his knees in the mud, and lost one of his
shoes ; but he said nothing, for the object of the
clerics had been to make the bishop give up his
resolution. The day was far advanced when he
returned to his lodgings, his limbs half dead with
the cold, and not till then did he mention his own
suffering and the cleric's offence. Yet, he merely
ordered them to go and look for the shoe ; he spoke
no word of reproach to the offender, but put a cheerful
face on the matter, and carried off the insult with
a cheerful countenance. For the bishop was a man
of great patience ; nothing put him out of temper,
whether annoyance or impertinence ; for people
there were, who often made game of him, even to
his face. But neither these, nor other vexations
of the world, disturbed him. Not that I mean to
say that his spirit was never moved ; for religion
cannot extinguish feelings ; it may restrain them
for a time, but cannot altogether root them out."

Monks and priests were not the only persons to
whom his straightforward conscientiousness made
him an inconvenient companion. At King Harold's
court his neighbourhood was especially dangerous
to the long flowing tresses with which it was the
fashion of the Anglo - Saxon gallants to adorn
themselves, and to which Wulstan had taken a
special dislike, as being a mark of effeminacy.

24 ST. WULST

Wulstan had very little notion of ceremony, where
he thought that right and wrong were concerned ;
and he was not without relish for a practical joke
at times. "Accordingly," says his biographer, "if
any of them placed their heads within his reach,
he would with his own hands crop their wanton
locks. He had for this a little knife, wherewith
he was wont to pare his nails, and scrape dirt off
books. With this he cut off the first fruits of
their curls, enjoining them on their obedience, to
have the rest cut even with it. If they resisted,
then he loudly chode them for their softness, and
openly threatened them with evil"

But troublesome as his strictness was to those about
him, they admired and loved him warmly ; the poor
simple Saxon monks especially, who in the desola-
tion and shame of their race, sought comfort in the
cloister, long remembered their good and noble
bishop, his kindness and humbleness among them,
the hearty interest he took in their welfare, how
gladly he visited them, and how, when he came
among them, he took his turn with them in the
duties of the Choir and Chapter house ; how, when
in Church, he saw the boys' vestments disordered,
he would bend over and smooth them down ; how,
when some one said to him that such condescension
did not become a bishop, he silenced the objector
with the words of the gospel, "He that is greatest
among you, shall be your servant."

It was Wulstan's lot to see the long line of his
native kings come to an end, and the " dear kingdom
of England " pass to a foreign lord. He was the
last Bishop who received his pastoral staff from the

ST. WULSTAN 25

hands of a Saxon king ; and when he died, he was
the last representative on the English thrones, of the
Church of Bede and Cuthbert. He was the link
between it and the Church of Lanfranc and Anselm,
and this gives peculiar interest to his history.

He had fallen on days when the noble Anglo-
Saxon race, out of which so many Saints and
heroic kings had sprung, had sunk into degeneracy
and corruption ; and he was appointed to see and
share their punishment. His people had become
coarse, debauched, and effeminate. Their natural
temper was free, and blithe, and affectionate ; de-
lighting in home, and kindred, and companionship ;
in the loaded board, and the warm, glad hearth,
and the hearty, brimful, noisy merriment of the
crowded hall ; — the " joy of life," — they knew it well,
and loved it too dearly. Self-indulgence, in its
various forms of sloth and pleasure, overcame them.
Clergy forgot their learning, and monks their rule.
The morning mass was hurried over in the bed-
chamber, where the great man had not yet risen
from his couch ; the drinking bout of the afternoon
was prolonged through the night. The very kindli-
ness of their character was giving way. The women
servants of thejr households, mothers of their own
children, and those children yet unborn, it was their
horrid custom to sell to foreign slavery, or a yet
worse fate. A noble people were wasting and
decaying in sluggishness, or gross and rude voluptu-
ousness ; purpose, and conduct, and enterprise — the
wise lawgiver, the loyal soldier had failed among
them ; they were still brave and high-spirited, but
theirs was a fitful and desultory gallantry, head-

26 ST. WULSTAN

strong, and without endurance. They had lost all
taste for what was great and severe, and cost exer-
tion ; the arts in which they excelled, were those only
which ministered to personal vanity — the petty skill
of the embroiderer and goldsmith ; and the vein of
melancholy and dreamy sentiment which ran through
their character only enfeebled it the more.

They had not been left without warning. Judg-
ment had followed judgment ; the Dane had fulfilled
his mission, yet there was no improvement. They
had seen too among them, with all the stern holiness
and fiery zeal of an ancient prophet, startling and
terrible as the Danes themselves, Dunstan, the
Archbishop, who had dragged a king from his
chamber of shame. Yet they would not rouse
themselves ; the wine-cup was too sweet, the couch
too soft; the "joys of the hall," the story, the
song, the " glee-beams " of the harp, these gladdened
their days ; and to these, in spite of the Danes and
St. Dunstan, they clung faster and faster. The
dream went on ; the lethargy became heavier.

Yet there was in many a vague feeling of uneasi-
ness and misgiving ; 1 a dim foreboding that mis-
chief was not far off. The king had no children.
What would become of England when he was gone ?
Was the royal line of Alfred and Athelstan really
ending ? So indeed had a vision boded, which had
been seen by an English bishop before Edward was
king. In a dream, he had seen Edward crowned
by St. Peter ; and when Edward complained that
he had no son to succeed him, the stern answer of
the apostle was, " The kingdom of the English is

1 V, Thierry, vol. i. p. 287.

ST. WULSTAN 27

God's ; after thee, he has provided a king according
to his own pleasure."1

At last the stroke came ; more terrible in its
reality than the most anxious had imagined. It
was not merely a change of kings or families ; not
even an invasion or ordinary conquest ; it was a
rooting and tearing up, a wild overthrow of all that
was established and familiar in England.

There were seeds of good, of high and rare ex-
cellence in the Saxons ; so they were to be chastised,
not destroyed. Those who saw the Norman triumph,
and the steady, crushing strength of its progress,
who saw English feelings, English customs, English
rights, trampled on, mocked at, swept away, little
thought that the Norman, the " Francigena," was
to have no abiding name in the land of his conquest ;
that his language was to be swallowed up and lost
in that of the Saxon ; that it was for the glory and
final exaltation of the English race, that he was
commissioned to school them thus sternly. So
indeed it was. But on that generation the judg-
ment fell, as bitter as it was unexpected ; it was
in their eyes vengeance unrelenting and final ; it
seemed as if God had finally cast them off, and
given them over without hope of respite or release,
to the tormentors.

On the very verge of these days, Wulstan was
made Bishop. But vengeance was stayed awhile,
till the saintly spirit of the last Saxon king was
ready for its crown. He built his burying-place,
and then departed.2 " About midwinter," says the
old English Chronicle, " King Edward came to

1 Will. Malms. G. R. lib. 2, p. 374. 2 Christmas, 1065.

28 ST. WULSTAN

Westminster, and had the Minster there conse-
crated, which he had himself built to the honour of
God, and St. Peter and all the Saints of God. This
Church-hallowing was on Childermas-day. And on
the eve of Twelfth-day, he departed. And he was
buried on Twelfth-day in the same Minster." l

It was believed that in spirit he saw the evils
from which he was taken. On his death-bed, he
dreamed of what was , to come, and prayed that if
it was a true message, he might recover his speech
to relate it. His power of speech returned, and he
told it. He had seen two monks, whom he had
known years ago in Normandy, and who had long
been dead. They brought a message — " Since the
great men of England, the chiefs, the bishops, the
abbots, are not the servants of God but of the devil,
God hath delivered this realm after thy death, for a
year and a day into the hands of the enemy, and
devils shall roam over all this land." The king
prayed that he might show this to his people, and
they would repent like the Ninevites. The mes-
sengers answered, " Neither will they repent, nor
will God ever have mercy upon them." And when
he asked them when these woes should end — " Then,
when the green trees shall be lopped in half, and
the parts be separated by the space of three furlongs,
and shall of themselves come together again, and
bear blossoms and fruit — then shall these woes cease."
Those who stood round him listened with fear ; — all
but Stigand the Archbishop. He laughed — it was,
he said, the wandering fancy of the sick.2

Then came the short wild reign of Harold, with
1 Jan. 5, 1066. 2 Will. Malms, p. 381.

ST. WULSTAN 29

its portents and unnatural strifes, the blazing " long-
haired star " in the sky, brother warring with brother
to the death, and calling down on him the pirates
of the North ; license and riot let loose, — no longer
held back by the example of the austere Confessor.
Wulstan raised his voice in rebuke and warning.
He had been Harold's friend, and Harold valued
him ; he called on the king earnestly to correct the
evil ; but he was not heard— the time allowed it
not — Harold had to defend his realm. One victory
he was allowed — he overcame and slew his brother :
but it had scarcely been gained, before the Norman
fleet was descried from the cliffs of Sussex, bearing
with it the curse of the Church against him. In
the whole of William's proceedings, from Harold's
oath on the relics, up to the prayers and litanies on
the eve of battle, there appeared the solemnity of
a religious mission ; he was come under God's pro-
tection and visible guidance with calm and settled
purpose, to do His will in England. But to the
last, in the presence of the Avenger, the Saxons
clung to their national sin ; they awoke after a night
of reckless and noisy revelry, to the day of Hastings.

How the Saxons were humbled and punished,
how they fiercely rebelled against their doom and
made it heavier, need not be detailed. Wulstan,
the prophet who had warned them, did not escape
their judgment ; yet in the overthrow of his people
and Church, he found mercy, and by degrees won
favour and esteem even with King William, and his
stern Archbishop, little sympathy as either of them
had with any thing English.

Among the native Clergy, the more impatient and

30 ST. WULSTAN

daring, of whom there were many, plunged desper-
ately into the intrigues and partizan warfare of their
countrymen, and shared the dreary fate which over-
took most of William's antagonists. Others among
them, "discreet and wary," yielded to the time and
served him. Wulstan belonged to neither of these.
With the leading men in England, he acknowledged
William ; and then he remained quiet in his diocese,
doing what temporal duties he was bound to, and
keeping aloof from the turmoil round him, despised
and neglected by the Normans. Possibly he may
have been once induced by the fiery and resolute
Abbot of St. Albans, to join an association, which
is said to have extorted from the king an oath on
the relics of St. Alban's Church, to observe the old
laws of England : l but his general line was sub-
mission. To this his naturally unworldly temper
would prompt him : and the signal and terrible way
in which he saw his own forebodings and warnings
realised, would both support and calm him in trouble.
" It is the scourge of God that ye are suffering,"
was his language to his countrymen ; and when
they bitterly retorted, that the Normans were far
worse than ever they had been, he answered, " God
is using their wickedness to punish your evil deserts,
as the devil, of his own evil will, yet by God's
righteous will, punishes those with whom he suffers.
Do ye, when ye are angry, care what becomes of
the staff with which ye strike ? " 2

Among the stray fragments of those days, has
come down to us the copy of a religious bond

1 Matth. Paris, Vit. Frideric. Abb. S. Alban, pp. 47, 48.

2 Knyghton, p. 2366.

ST. WULSTAN 31

entered into after the Conquest, by Wulstan and
the Abbots and brethren of seven monasteries, still
for the most part English. The monks promise to
be true to Wulstan "for God and for the world";
and he and they together bind themselves to obedi-
ence and to unity among themselves, to be, "as
if the seven minsters were one minster" — "quasi
cor unum et anima una," to obedience to their
worldly Lord, King William, and the Lady
Matilda ; — and besides, to various offices of mutual
intercession, and charity to the poor.1 Different
men have different offices ; Wulstan's was not to
reform, or build up, or resist, but amid the wild
storm of passions which surrounded him, to be the
witness and minister of peace.

Thus he preserved his evenness of mind in spite
of the change of times. In his dealings with the
Normans, in matters relating to his office, he went
about his work with a kind of straightforward un-
conscious simplicity, as if he was still in the days
of King Edward, and his position not more pre-
carious and suspected than it had been then.

At the hostile council of Winchester,2 which gave
such ominous warning to the Anglo-Saxon Clergy,
after several of them had been deposed, Wulstan
stood up among his cowed and silent colleagues,
without embarrassment, as if unconscious that he
was a barbarian, an "idiota,"3 in the eyes of most
around him, and in bold blunt words called upon
the king, though his officers had just plundered the

1 Probably between 1074-1077. It is given in Hickes's Thesaur.
vol. ii. Dissert. Epist. pp. 19, 20.

3 After Easter, 1070. Florence of Worcester.
3 Mat. Paris, Vit. Abb. S. Alb. p. 49.

32 ST. WULSTAN

Church and Monastery of Worcester, to restore
some lands to the See, which had been kept back
from it by Archbishop Aldred, and had now on
his death fallen into William's hands. When the
question was put off, he prosecuted it in the same
spirit. Thomas, Aldred's Norman successor, met
Wulstan with a claim of jurisdiction over Wor-
cester, and Wulstan had to plead his cause before
a yet more formidable assembly than the synod of
Winchester. The question now touched deeper in-
terests than Wulstan's ; — it became one between
the two parties who shared power under the Con-
queror, the Church party of Lanfranc, and that of
the Earl -Bishop Odo, the king's half-brother —
Bishop of Bayeux and Earl of Kent, who had led
the Norman chivalry at Hastings, and was now the
most potent Lord in England. In a court com-
posed of all the great men of the realm, Wulstan
the Saxon, with his bad French, meagre show of
learning, and uncourtly ways, had to state his case
against the Archbishop of York's subtlety and skill,
and Odo's power. He was no more disconcerted
than he had been at Winchester. The account,
derived from a Norman bishop who was present,
states that he fell asleep during his opponent's
argument ; and spent the time given him to think
over his reply, in singing the service of the hour,
in spite of his companions' horror of the ridicule
it would bring on them. " Know ye not," he
answered, " that the Lord hath said, ' When ye
stand before kings and rulers, take no thought
what ye shall speak ; for it shall be given in that
hour what ye shall speak?' The same, our Maker

ST. WULSTAN 33

and Lord, Jesus Christ, who said this, can give me
speech to-day, to defend my right, and overthrow
their might." And he had been reading, he said,
the lives of his canonized predecessors, Dunstan
and Oswald, and he had seen them guarding with
their prayers the cause of their Church, which
would prevail without any eloquence or wisdom of
his. And his statement of his case, backed no
doubt by Lanfranc's influence, carried the day.1

Lan franc is said on this occasion to have com-
mitted to him the visitation of the turbulent
Diocese of Chester, which was unsafe for the
Norman bishops. But Wulstan and Lanfranc were
men of such different characters, that it is not sur-
prising that it was not at once that the Arch-
bishop really understood the genuine but homely
excellence of his Saxon suffragan. The popular
legend, which represented Lanfranc as wishing to
depose Wulstan, on the ground of incapacity and
ignorance, at all events points to something of this
kind. The legend itself, a most touching and beauti-
ful one, has become indeed the characteristic story of
Wulstan's life. It was the subject of his emblem.

" Lanfranc," says the legend, " who like the pro-
phet had been set by God to root out and to pull
down, and to destroy, and to build, and to plant,
relying on his authority as legate, sought to recall
the English Church to a new order. What called

1 " Hujus narrationis Colemannus testem citat Walchelinum Win-
ton. Episcopum, in virtutibus tune temporis Lanfranco, sed longo
intervallo, proximum. Eum siquidem plusquam semel narrantem
audivi, quomodo vir Sanctus pene solus tot optimatibus, et ipsis
magno elimatis acumine obnitentibus victor abierit." — W. Malms.
Vit. S. Wulst. p. 256.

VOL. V. C

34 ST. WULSTAN

for correction he corrected ; what was fit to be
decreed he established ; and to the clergy and the
monks he laid down a more worthy rule of life.
Wulstan, the man of God, was accused before him
of weakness and incapacity, and with the king's
consent or injunction, his deposal resolved upon,
as being an ignorant and unlearned man. In a
synod therefore which was held at Westminster in
the king's presence, Lanfranc called upon him to
deliver up his pastoral staff and ring.1 Upon this
the old man rose, and holding the crosier firmly
in his hand, replied, ' Of a truth, my Lord Arch-
bishop, of a truth I know, that I am not worthy
of this dignity, nor sufficient for its duties. I
knew it when the clergy elected, when the prelates
compelled, when my master King Edward sum-
moned me to the office. He, by authority of the
Apostolic See, laid this burthen upon my shoulders,
and with this staff ordered me to be invested with
the episcopal degree. You now require from me the
pastoral staff which you did not deliver, and take
from me the office which you did not confer : and I
who am not ignorant of my own insufficiency, obey-
ing the decree of this holy synod, resign them, —
not to you, but to him by whose authority I re-
ceived them.' So saying, he advanced to the tomb
of King Edward, and addressed himself to the
dead, — * Master,' said he, ' thou knowest how un-
willingly I took upon myself this office, forced to
it by thee ! for though neither the choice of the
brethren, nor the desire of the people, nor the con-

1 Mr. Southey's translation, in his Book of the Church, has been
used as far as it goes, with a few changes.

ST. WULSTAN 35

sent of the prelates, nor the favour of the nobles
was wanting, thy pleasure predominated more than
all, and especially compelled me. Behold a new
king, a new law, a new primate! they decree new
rights, and promulgate new statutes. Thee they
accuse of error in having so commanded : me of
presumption in having obeyed. Then indeed thou
wast liable to error, being mortal ; but now being
with God thou canst not err. Not therefore to
these who require what they did not give, and who
as men may deceive and be deceived, but to thee
who hast given, and who art beyond the reach of
error or ignorance, I render up my staff; to thee
I resign the care of those whom thou hast com-
mitted to my charge ; to thee I entrust them with
confidence, whose merits I know full sure.'

"With these words, he raised his hand a little,
and drove the crosier into the stone which covered
the sacred body ; ' Take this, my master/ he said,
* and deliver it to whom thou will ' ; and descending
from the altar, he laid aside his pontifical dress, and
took his seat, a simple monk, among the monks.

" But the staff, to the wonder of all, remained
fast imbedded in the stone. They tried to draw
it out, but it was immovable. A murmur ran
through the throng ; they crowded round the spot
in astonishment, and you might see them in their
surprise, approaching a little, then stopping, stretch-
ing out their hands and withdrawing them, now
throwing themselves on the floor, to see how the
spike was fastened in the stone, now rising up
and gathering into groups to gaze. The news
was carried to where the synod was sitting. Lan-

36 ST. WULSTAN

franc sent the Bishop of Rochester to the tomb,
to bring the staff; but he was unable to withdraw
it. The archbishop in wonder, sent for the king,
and went with him to the place ; and after having
prayed, tried to move it, but in vain. The king
cried out, and Lan franc burst into tears, and going
up to Wulstan, addressed him ; * Truly the Lord
is righteous and loveth righteousness; His coun-
tenance will behold the thing that is just; truly
He walketh with the simple, and with them is His
discourse. We mocked at thy righteous simplicity,
my brother, but He hath made thy righteousness
to shine as the light, and thy just dealing as the
noon-day. We must weep for the darkness which
covered us, and made us call evil good, and good
evil. We have erred, we have erred, my brother,
in our judgment of thee, and God has raised up
His spirit in His king, to bring to nought our
decree, and to show to all how acceptable thy sim-
plicity is to God. Therefore, by the authority which
we exercise, nay, rather by the divine judgment
by which we are convinced, the charge of which we
inconsiderately deprived thee, we again commit to
thee and lay on thee, knowing that a little that the
righteous hath is better than great riches of the
ungodly ; yea, surely much better is a little learning
with faith, which in simplicity works by love, than
treasures of wisdom and worldly knowledge, which
many abuse to the service of vanity or foul lucre.
Go, therefore, my brother, go to thy master, yea, to
ours ; for we believe that that holy hand which has
refused the crosier to us, will freely resign it to thee.'
On this, the holy bishop, with his usual simplicity,

ST. WULSTAN 37

obeyed the command, and approaching the altar,
' Behold me, my lord Edward/ he said, ( here I
am, who entrusted myself to thy judgment, who
submitted myself to thy decision, who resigned to
thee the staff which thou gavest. What is now thy
pleasure and will? Thou hast in truth guarded
thy honour, and declared my innocence, and shown
thy greatness ; if, therefore, thy former judgment
of me stands, restore the crosier ; if it is changed,
say to whom it shall be given.' With these words,
he tried with a gentle effort to draw out the staff;
it yielded to his hand and came forth, as if it had
been planted in soft clay.

" The king and the archbishop rushed up to him,
and falling at his feet, begged his forgiveness and
his prayers ; but he who had learned from the Lord
Jesus Christ to be meek and lowly of heart, in his
turn threw himself before them, and entreated the
blessing of so great a bishop. Lanfranc and Wulstan
blessed each other, and hand in hand returned to
the synod, amid tears and joy, all together praising
God, who is wonderful in His saints."

So writes Aelred, abbot of Rievaulx, who died
within a century after the Conquest, about the way
in which Lanfranc was reconciled to Wulstan ; recon-
ciled he certainly was ; and Wulstan lived to a good
old age, reverenced by the stern strangers who so
hated his countrymen ; one of the few who, in those
times of anxiety and trial, was vouchsafed a life of
quietness ; — quietness at least of heart, — the old,
perhaps too prized blessing of his native church.
For the insight into society, the keen far-reaching
intelligence, which pierces through what is compli-

38 ST. WULSTAN

cated and hidden, the discernment of evil and
danger and the power to meet them, the " instantia
quotidiana," l the daily burden of one to whom his
own times are in a way committed, all that made
Lanfranc's and Anselm's task so heavy, though so
glorious, all this was spared to Wulstan. He was
not meant to see what they saw, what cost them
so many a bitter hour.

Still these must have been mournful days for
Wulstan. He had made the best of the old English
system ; he was cast in its mould ; it had all his
sympathies ; and now that he was old, it was rudely
broken off, its evil sternly exposed and put to shame,
its ways of doing good despised. The strangers
had their own feelings, which he could not share ;
and in all that they valued, he was far behind them.
A great and noble man was the archbishop, with
his vast learning, his austere religion, his deep plans
and unwearied care for the Church, yet he was not
like the religious men of Wulstan's youth and man-
hood. They and the Saints before them, whose
memory the Anglo - Saxons cherished with such
peculiar affectionateness, were out of date ; their
venerated names were jeered at by the coarse and
rude ; held very cheaply by the best.2 Every thing
reminded him that he was out of his place. When
he went to court, around him were foreign faces,
dark complexioned, and smooth shaven, and in his
ears a language which he could not pronounce3 —

1 2 Cor. xi. 28.

2 V. Wharton, Angl. Sacr. vol. ii. p. 40 ; and the argument between
Lanfranc and Anselm about S. Alphege, in Eadmer, Vit. S. Ans.
pp. 10, ii.

3 Vid. quotations in Thierry, p. 115, note I. Eng. Transl.

ST. WULSTAN 39

circumstance and ceremony, the old grave state and
pomp of the English Council, the old jovial mirth
of the English board, all was changed.1 And at
home he had to play the Baron, and go about with
his retinue of men-at-arms, mischievous and trouble-
some attendants, and who, for all that they were in
Wulstan's service, ate and drank and quarrelled,
like their fellows, and were as grasping and ex-
travagant. But he was obliged to maintain them,
for the wise archbishop had so settled it, because
the Danes were daily expected ; 2 and Wulstan had
to head his soldiers more than once, to keep the
peace of the country.3 It was a new position for
him to hold ; a plain old Saxon monk, with no taste
for show or business ; but he took it meekly and
cheerily, with a sort of unconscious patience. He
would not dine in private, but sate down in his
public hall, with his boisterous soldiers and retainers ;
nay, while they sate drinking for hours together
after dinner, according to the English fashion, he

1 " Ipso igitur persecutionis tempore, exularunt ab Anglia nobiles
tarn milites quam prselati ; viri sancti, generosi ac dapsiles, (qui more
orientalium, et maxime Trojanorum, barbas ac comas nutriebant) . . .
Quibus exulantibus, pristina Regni sanctitas ac nobilitas, irremeabiliter
exulavit." — M. Paris, vit. Frid. Abb. S. Alb. p. 48. " Conculcabantur
spreti ac derisi nobiles Angli, jugum servitutis a tempore Bruti
nescientes, et more Normannorum barbas radere, cincinnos tondere
cogebantur, projectis cornibus et vasis solitis, et refectionibus et
dapsilitatibus novis compulsi sunt legibus subjacere." — Ib. p. 46. vid.
Will. Malms, de G. Reg. § 239, 245.

2 " Pompam militum secum ducens, qui stipendiis annuis quotidian -
isque cibis immane quantum populabantur." — Will. Malms, de Gest.
Pont. lib. iv. 280. de vit. S. Wulst. lib. iii. c. 16.

3 In the rebellion of Roger, earl of Hereford, 1074 (Flor, of Wore.),
and again, in the outbreak against William Rufus, a. 1088. Saxon
Chron. and Flor. Wore.

40 ST. WULSTAN

would keep them company to restrain them by his
presence, pledging them when it came to his turn
in a little cup, which he pretended to taste, and
in the midst of the din, "ruminating to himself
on the psalms."1 Not that he was changed himself;
he was still the blunt, unaffected, good-humoured
Saxon, who avoided all show, either of austerity or
pomp, who kept sturdily, in spite of persons and
proprieties, to his old habits, and had his quaint
repartee for those who made impertinent comments.
He would say his grace before drinking, as the
English always used to do, though he was dining
at the royal table ; 2 and he would persist in coming
into the company of great lords in a very ordinary
dress — intruding his common lamb-skin among their
rich furs. The rich and courtly Geoffrey, bishop of
Coutances, once took on him, with patronising kind-
ness, to set the simple Englishman right ; with bland
irony he expostulated with him on the unsuitable-
ness, in a man of his dignity, of his usual appear-
ance ; " He could well afford, and really ought, to
wear something more respectable ; some more costly
fur, sable, or beaver, or fox-skin." But the old
Englishman had some shrewd humour in him.
" The skins of such shifty animals," he said, " might
do for experienced men of the world, but for himself,
he was a plain man, and content with lamb-skin."
" Then at least," said Geoffrey, " you might wear
cat-skin." But Wulstan's grotesque reply silenced
him. " Crede mihi," said he, with his usual affirma-

1 W. Malms, vit. S. Wulst. p. 259, de Gest. Pont. p. 280.

2 " Benedictiones, quas Angli super potum faciebant." — W. Malms,
de G. Pont. p. 280.

ST. WULSTAN 41

tion ; " believe me, my Lord, I have often heard
* Agnus Dei ' sung, but never ' Cattus Dei.' " l

In the Norman court, however, Wulstan's voice
was now become of weight. The king listened to
him with respect, and his co-operation was used
and valued by Lanfranc. A slave trade chiefly with
Ireland had long been carried on at Bristol. The
slaves were English peasants and domestic servants,
the born thralls of the lords of the land, whom
their owners found it convenient to get rid of.
Among them were many women servants who
had been debauched by their masters, and sold
when pregnant. The trade was a profitable one
both for the dealers and for King William's revenue-
Lanfranc however and Wulstan resolved to attack
it. With great difficulty, their united influence in-
duced the king to relinquish his duties and declare
against it. But King William's opposition was not
the greatest obstacle they had to meet ; it was
easier to bring over the iron-hearted conqueror,
than the wild savage race of slave merchants who
had been established at Bristol from time out of
mind, and were not men to submit easily to any
interference with their authorised and gainful traffic.
" The love of God had little power with them," as
little had the love or fear of King William. Wulstan
however undertook the task of persuading them.
He knew their fierce obstinacy ; but he was a
Saxon like themselves, and they might listen in
time to their countrymen, and their own language.
Accordingly he used to go down and stay among
them for two or three months at a time, and every

1 Id. vit. S. Wulst. p. 259. de G. P. p. 280.

42 ST. WULSTAN

Sunday he preached to them in English. And he
did destroy the slave trade at Bristol. He com-
pletely won the hearts and enthusiastic reverence
of these wild people ; the trade was given up and
proscribed ; and when they found one of their own
number still determined to carry it on in spite of
the Bishop, they rose in fury upon him, and having
turned him out of the city, they tore out his eyes.1
Wulstan outlived William and Lanfranc, and
was one of the consecrators of St. Anselm ; but
he was then an old man, and he did not see the
great struggle which was at hand. He passed his
last Lent with more than usual solemnity. It was
always with him a time of great devotion, in which
he tempered his increased self-discipline with daily
acts of overflowing charity to the poor. But this
time, with the presentiment which was so remark-
able a feature in his character that he was thought
to have the gift of prophecy, he felt that what he
did would be for the last time. The Thursday before
Easter, the day of our Lord's Supper, he had always
literally devoted entire to religious offices. On that
day, from midnight to midnight, every thought of
the world was excluded from his mind. When
matins were over, he proceeded at once to an
apartment, where he found a number of poor
collected, and warm water prepared by his atten-
dants. There with his own hands he washed their
feet and their clothes ; with his own hand he
bestowed his alms, and ministered to each the cup
of "charity." Then after the briefest interval of
rest, during which the servants laid out the hall,

1 Id. vit. St. Wulst. p. 258. Gest. Reg. Angl. § 269.

ST. WULSTAN 43

he again waited on his pensioners, supplying them,
as they sate at his table, with shoes and victuals ;
and the only answer he gave to the remonstrances
of his attendants, who assured him that he had
done enough, was — " Nay, I have done but little ;
I want to fulfil our Lord's command." Then he
returned to meditate in the Church, and later in
the day he reconciled the penitents, who beheld
in his " gracious countenance " the face of an angel
of God ; and at night after supper, he washed the
feet of his brethren of the convent. But this last
Maunday was such as had never been seen before.
In the monastery, except at the hours of prayer,
all was stir and busy activity, strangely mingled
with a religious silence and restraint. At its gate
and in its courts was a dense multitude from the
country round, poor and blind and halt and maimed,
pressing in or coming out, or waiting to receive in
their turn those cheap, yet to the poor, rare blessings,
water clean and warm for their swollen and begrimed
limbs, a change of dress, and above all, the personal
attention of those above them ; to see their Bishop
before them, to hear his words to them, to feel his
hand. In the afternoon, the Bishop's hall was
filled to the very entrance with people, standing
or sitting as they could, so closely crowded as
scarcely to leave room for the busy attendants
who toiled and hurried about in this great com-
pany. The guests were the pauper multitude, the
attendants not only the monks of the convent, but
also the young men of noble birth who were
attached to the Bishop's family. In the midst
sate Wulstan. On former occasions he had taken

44 ST. WULSTAN

his share in waiting on his guests ; but this at
last had become too much for him. Twice was
the hall emptied and rilled again, and still there
were more applicants. Wulstan had bespoken large
supplies of provisions from the bailiffs of his manors,
but they began to run short. His clerks were in
dismay, and urged him to shut the gates against
the remaining crowd ; but Wulstan would not hear
of it, — on that great day, the last occasion of the
kind he should see, none should go away empty.
Let the Lord's command be observed, — he was
sure that God would enable him to satisfy all who
came. Nor was he disappointed. News was almost
immediately brought him of the arrival of some
presents, which were at once turned into money,
and which enabled him to accomplish the day in the
style of princely beneficence with which he began it.

On Easter day he again feasted with the poor,
to the great discomfiture and indignation of his
steward, who had invited a party of men of con-
sequence to keep the festival with the Bishop,
and who could not understand how his master
could prefer the company of a crowd of paupers,
to that of a few persons of name and wealth. At
Whitsuntide following, he was taken ill. His only
sister had died shortly before, and though he had
always believed that his life would be a long one,
he had recognised in this a token that his own
time was near ; — " the plough has come at last to
my furrow " ; — he said, and he now prepared for
death. He made his confession to his friend,
Robert, Bishop of Hereford, and received the "dis-
cipline " ; but he lingered through the summer and

ST. WULSTAN 45

autumn in a slow fever, till the first day of the new
year, when he took to his bed. He was laid so as
to have a view of the altar of a chapel ; and " sitting
rather than lying down," his eyes were continually
upon it, while to himself or aloud he followed the
Psalms which were sung. On the I9th of January,1
at midnight, he departed, in the eighty-seventh year
of his age, and the thirty-third of his Episcopate.

The point which struck his attendants during his
last illness, was the quiet but undoubting confidence
with which he looked forward to his salvation.
There was no fear, no trouble, no misgiving. With
the same simplicity and boldness which he had
shown in life, he spoke of his nearer presence to
God after death, and comforted his friends with
the promise of his prayers, more availing then,
because he should be no longer in the body.

Mention has been made of Robert, bishop of
Hereford, Wulstan's greatest friend among the
English bishops, though a very different man from
himself; for Robert was a foreigner from Lorraine,
and one of the king's judges ; an architect too, a
mathematician, an astronomer, and man of science ;
yet he would spend days together with Wulstan.
Robert was at a distance when his friend died.
Wulstan expired at midnight, and at that same
hour Robert, in a dream, saw him appear, to an-
nounce his own departure, and to bid Robert come
to Worcester to bury him. Robert immediately
made all speed to Worcester, and arrived in time;
for contrary to the usual custom, the body, which
in death had become most beautiful, had been kept
1 A.D. 1095.

46 ST. WULSTAN

till the third day, and was laid out, arrayed in the
episcopal vestments and crosier, before the high
altar, that the people of Worcester might look
once more on their bishop. The Sunday after his
death, Robert buried him, and returned home.

On the thirtieth day after Wulstan's death, Robert
in a dream, again saw his departed friend. But
Wulstan now appeared to rebuke him sternly for
the carelessness of his way of life, and to warn him
that his stay in the flesh would be short ; but though
he had not long to remain here, he might yet by
increased diligence secure his crown, and share with
Wulstan the heavenly banquet, in the presence of God.
And within six months, Robert followed his friend.1

The story, as told by William of Malmesbury,
sounds like an improvement on that of Florence.
Wulstan, says Malmesbury, appeared to his friend,
telling him that if he wished to find him alive, he
must come speedily. Robert hastened to Worcester,
but the night before he reached it, Wulstan again
appeared to him, thanking him for his affection,
but telling him that he was now too late to see
him. He then announced to Robert that he was
soon to follow him, and promised him a sign.
" To-morrow," he said, " when thou hast buried my
body, which has been for three days waiting thy
coming, a present shall be given thee from me,
which thou shalt know to be mine." Robert found
his dream verified, and he buried Wulstan. He
had taken leave of the monks, and was just mount-
ing his horse to depart, when the prior of the con-
vent came to him, and on his knees begged him

1 Flor. Wore. a. 1095.

ST. WULSTAN 47

to accept a present, as a mark of their regard,
and a remembrance of his friend. It was the lamb-
skin cloak which Wulstan used to wear on his
journeys. Robert recognised Wulstan's token ; he
took it with fear, and returning into the monastery,
he summoned the monks to the Chapter house, and
there, with sighs and tears, told them his dream.
So having commended his approaching death to all
their prayers, he departed. " Wulstan passed in the
middle of January, and Robert did not outlive June."1
The monks of Worcester sent letters through
England, earnestly entreating that if any revelation
were vouchsafed concerning Wulstan's lot, it might
be communicated to them ; and it was reported
and believed that such a revelation was made to
two religious persons, who in a vision beheld him
glorified. But at Worcester such assurance would
be little wanted. It is well known, from the strong
censures of St. Anselm and others, how the devo-
tion and love of the Anglo-Saxons clung fondly
to the tombs of those whom in life they had seen
to be venerable and noble ; but towards Wulstan,
their countryman and townsman, known among
them for more than sixty years as the best and
holiest man in Worcester, known also in foreign
parts, in France and Italy, and to the Pope him-
self,— the last bishop given them by the holy king
Edward, and the last of their ancient hierarchy, —
it is not strange that these feelings should have
displayed themselves in the most intense degree.
He was first canonized, as most were in early times,
by the popular voice, by the instinctive enthusiastic

1 W. Malms, de Gest. Pont. p. 286.

48 ST. WULSTAN

faith of the multitude in goodness, — in its reward
and power. "In truth," says his biographer, speaking
of the miracles believed to have been wrought by
him, " the ready faith of the men of old time would
ere this have exalted him on high, and proclaimed
him a Saint. But the slowness of belief of our day,
which shields itself under the guard of caution, will
put no faith in miracles, though it behold them with
its eyes, and touch them with its fingers."1

Those, however, who wrote his life, had not these
doubts. They looked on him as a Saint, and there-
fore, as from one moving in a supernatural order
of things, they expected miracles and they have
recorded many. How far the instances mentioned
were really tokens of God's power with him ; how
far his loving and admiring friends read events by
their own feelings, gave them an exaggerated mean-
ing, and invented, without intending it ; how far
their accounts may have been a customary and
traditional way of symbolizing, as it were, men's
persuasion that he was God's servant ; or how far
they may have been fictions, imagined and circulated
under shelter of the general belief in supernatural
agency for good and evil, we have now little means
of ascertaining. The chief authority for them is a
monk named Coleman, a friend of Wulstan's, and
for fifteen years his chaplain, whose Anglo-Saxon
life of him is the groundwork of William of
Malmesbury's Latin narrative.2 But William, him-

1 W. Malms, de G. Pontif. p. 282.

2 He thus speaks of his authority — " Colemannus, monachus vester,
vir nee scientia imperitus, nee sermone patrio infacetus. Scripsit enim
Anglice, ne gestorum avolaret memoria, vitam ejusdem Patris ; si

ST. WULSTAN 49

self so much of a rhetorician that he cannot bring
himself to introduce Saxon names,1 "lest the bar-
barous sound of the words should wound the ears
of the delicate reader," accuses Coleman, not indeed
of falsehood, but of exaggeration and unscrupulous
love of ornament ; of using other men's materials
to trick out his own story.2 However it would be
giving an imperfect representation of Wulstan, as
he was looked upon in his own century, as one on
whom God had visibly set His seal, and who had
obtained more than earthly power to cheer and
protect and guide his brethren, if we passed over
the belief that his life was a miraculous one.

Some of these miracles have been alluded to in
the preceding narrative. In most of the others
there is little to distinguish them from the class
of miracles usually ascribed to the holy men of the
middle ages. They are exhibitions of the same
character which was shown in his ordinary actions,
— of the spirit of charity and mercy, issuing forth
in acts of supernatural power, for the relief of the

attendas ad sensum, lepore gravi, si ad literam, simplicitate rudi.
Dignus, cui fides non derogetur in aliquo, quippe qui noverit intime
mores magistri, ut discipulus, religionem, ut XV annos Capellanus.
Hujus ego, ut voluistis, insistens scriptis, nihil turbavi de rerum ordine,
nihil corrupi de veritate. Sane verbis, quse vel dicta sunt, vel in
tempore dici potuerunt, enarrandis supersedi, consulens in omnibus
veritati, ne videretur periclitari." — Epist. ad Monach. Wigorn.
1 Vit. S. Wulst. p. 254.

— "Nee minus alta verba, declamatiunculas quasdam, quas ille
ab aliorum Sanctorum gestis assumptas prona devotione inseruit.
Sicut enim superius dixi, quisquis rem per se satis eminentem verbis
exaltare molitur, ludit operam. Quinimo dum vult laudare, infamat
potius et attenuat, quia videatur non posse niti argumento proprio,
si fulcatur patrocinio alieno." — W. Malms, de vit. S. Wulst. p. 254,
vid. pp. 265 and 258, cap. xvi.

VOL. V. D

So ST. WULSTAN

afflicted and poor. They are recorded with con-
siderable particularity of place and person. The
subjects of them belong for the most part to the
class for whom he always showed such especial
kindness — " the miserable people," who were without
protector or comforter in the world — mostly his own
countrymen, whose very names would have been a
temptation to the Norman soldiers to trample them
like worms — the Outy Grimkelsons,1 and Turstan
Dubbes, and Gouse Gamelsons, and Spurt Lunsers,
of the Saxon farm-house and hamlet. A mad
woman of Evesham — a poor wretch from Kent,
afflicted with the king's evil, begging at his door
at Kemsey — a Gloucestershire serf, possessed with
an evil spirit — a foreigner lying sick by the road-
side — such were the persons for whom his prayers
were offered and accepted. They cured hopeless
sickness, they brought rest to the troubled mind,
they delivered from the peril of fire, or from sudden
accidents, they rescued sailors from shipwreck ; or
else, still marking his kindly and social temper, they
were wrought to cheer and grace the rejoicing of
friends. When Egelric the Archdeacon built a Church,
and gave a feast at its dedication, Wulstan provided
a miraculous supply of mead for his friend's guests.

But whether he did these miracles, or they were only
reported of him, so he lived, and so he died, that men
readily believed them of him; and along with the great
men of old, the Apostles and first Pastors of England,
was numbered also among the Saints of the Church,
Wulstan, the last of the Anglo-Saxon Bishops.

1 Vid. names in a Charter given in Ingulph, p. 87.

LIFE OF
ST. AELRED

PREFACE

IT is necessary to say a few words on the sources
from which the present Life is derived. The account
of St. Aelred's parentage is taken from a manuscript
in the Bodleian Library (Laud, 668), in which are
several works ascribed to him, and amongst others,
one " De Sanctis Ecclesiae Hagulstadensis et eorum
miraculis." Whether this work is by him or not, the
author has not sufficient critical judgment to pro-
nounce. It is in some places assigned to him, but
one circumstance against it is, that it is principally
a Sermon, preached in the Church of Hexham, on
the translation of the relics of the old Bishops of
Hexham, apparently by the Prior of the Canons.
A great part of it, however, from fol. 67 of the
manuscript, is a written continuation of the history,
and was not preached. If one may be allowed to
conjecture, this part might be written by St. Aelred.
It is like his style (though it should be said that
the Sermon also is like it), and the historical know-
ledge which it displays also makes it likely to be
his. There is nothing in the MS. itself to indicate
that the persons of whom it gives an account were
St. Aelred's ancestors; this fact is gathered from
Richard of Hexham, De statu Hagulstadensis Ec-
clesiae, b. 2, c. 9. There is also an incidental proof

53

54 PREFACE

that St. Aelred's ancestors were persons connected
with the Church of Durham, in a letter from Reginald,
a monk of Durham, to St. Aelred, in which he thanks
him for some collections, taken from documents in
the Church of Durham by his ancestors, and com-
municated by him. This letter is found in a Bodleian
manuscript, Fairfax, 6.

The life in Capgrave and the Bollandists has only
been partially followed, as it contains various his-
torical inaccuracies. St. Aelred's own works have
been on the whole the principal authority made use
of. A few notices of the Saint have been inserted
in the life of St. Waltheof, to whom they rather
belong. The author hoped to have brought the
two lives out together, which, however, has been
found impossible.

St. Aelred was canonized by Pope Celestine III.,
A.D. 1191, according to the Peterborough Annals.

LIFE OF
ST. AELRED

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

IT is often said that things look on paper or on
canvas very different from what they are in reality ;
how often is the traveller disappointed, on arriving
at a spot of which he had read in poetry, or seen
portrayed by a painter. We repeat over and over
again to ourselves that it is beautiful, as if to per-
suade ourselves of it, and yet there is something
wanting ; after all, we have seen woods as green,
and streams as clear, and rocks as wild, and the
ruined tower that looks over the stream is but a
very poor ruin, as the baron who lived there was
probably a very indifferent character. And yet were
the poet or the painter so unfaithful as we suppose ?
They saw it under some particular aspect, when the
sun was upon it, or when the woods were coloured
by autumn, and they caught it at some moment
when one of Nature's endless combinations had
made it look more than usually lovely. No two

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IIDDADY CT UADY't fOI 1 FGC

56 ST. AELRED

persons see the same scene under the same aspect ;
it will not look to-morrow as it does now, and yet
it is the same sun, and the same trees, and the same
river. And so it is with history ; the historian must
colour his work with his own mind ; it is his view
of facts, and yet it may nevertheless be true. Nay,
in some respects it is more true than the view which
a contemporary might take of them. Kings and
queens are doubtless very different from the ermine-
covered things which we think them to be, and we
must make them objects of the intellect before we
can judge of them ; just as a surgeon must in a
manner forget that he is operating on flesh and
blood, before he can do his duty. Besides which
the ideas that contemporaries have of the men of
their day, are after all only theories ; they are but
approximations to the truth ; events and actions are
but exponents of the inward life of men and nations,
and none on earth can judge them precisely as they
are. We have in this sense only a view of our
dearest friends, and yet it does not follow that we
love an abstraction or an idea. And so it by no
means follows that history is untrue because it is
the view of the historian ; it is coloured of course
by his character and his opinions. The facts of
history want an interpretation and are utterly
meaningless, like an unknown language, until they
are viewed in relation to each other and with the
whole period to which they belong. This is what
the historian supplies ; his view may be true or false,
but all views are not false, because they are partly
subjective. All views are not true, for that would
in fact be saying that all are false, but some are

INTRODUCTION 57

right and others are wrong, and that, though the
facts related are given with equal honesty ; just as
in physical science experiments are the same, but
the true explanation of them is the simplest formula
which will take in all their results.

All this eminently applies to the lives of the
blessed Saints, because the view which we have of
them is in all cases coloured by the reverence of
the Christian world, and yet it is by no means
falsified. It is history with the perpetual interpreta-
tion of Christendom ; the mind of the Church acting
upon facts in the life of one of her children. It may
be quite true that in many instances false miracles
or actions which may be proved never to have
taken place, may have been ascribed to them. An
unknown monk in some obscure monastery may
have written a life of a Saint, merely putting to-
gether all the traditions which remained of him,
without caring to separate the true from the false ;
but still the result of the whole may be true ; and
the general aspect in which Christendom views
the Saint may be the right one, though some par-
ticular stories may be false. How few in many
instances are the facts known about some of the
Saints in the Middle Ages. Their parentage is
often forgotten, and the history of their early years
unknown ; or perhaps the names of their parents
are preserved with the vague and suspicious addition
that they were of very noble birth. Some few great
deeds are on record, but the internal struggles which
led to them are all forgotten ; all at once they appear
before us as perfect Saints, as if no discipline had
been required to form them. We are left to eke

56 ST. AELRED

persons see the same scene under the same aspect ;
it will not look to-morrow as it does now, and yet
it is the same sun, and the same trees, and the same
river. And so it is with history ; the historian must
colour his work with his own mind ; it is his view
of facts, and yet it may nevertheless be true. Nay,
in some respects it is more true than the view which
a contemporary might take of them. Kings and
queens are doubtless very different from the ermine-
covered things which we think them to be, and we
must make them objects of the intellect before we
can judge of them ; just as a surgeon must in a
manner forget that he is operating on flesh and
blood, before he can do his duty. Besides which
the ideas that contemporaries have of the men of
their day, are after all only theories ; they are but
approximations to the truth ; events and actions are
but exponents of the inward life of men and nations,
and none on earth can judge them precisely as they
are. We have in this sense only a view of our
dearest friends, and yet it does not follow that we
love an abstraction or an idea. And so it by no
means follows that history is untrue because it is
the view of the historian ; it is coloured of course
by his character and his opinions. The facts of
history want an interpretation and are utterly
meaningless, like an unknown language, until they
are viewed in relation to each other and with the
whole period to which they belong. This is what
the historian supplies ; his view may be true or false,
but all views are not false, because they are partly
subjective. All views are not true, for that would
in fact be saying that all are false, but some are

INTRODUCTION 57

right and others are wrong, and that, though the
facts related are given with equal honesty ; just as
in physical science experiments are the same, but
the true explanation of them is the simplest formula
which will take in all their results.

All this eminently applies to the lives of the
blessed Saints, because the view which we have of
them is in all cases coloured by the reverence of
the Christian world, and yet it is by no means
falsified. It is history with the perpetual interpreta-
tion of Christendom ; the mind of the Church acting
upon facts in the life of one of her children. It may
be quite true that in many instances false miracles
or actions which may be proved never to have
taken place, may have been ascribed to them. An
unknown monk in some obscure monastery may
have written a life of a Saint, merely putting to-
gether all the traditions which remained of him,
without caring to separate the true from the false ;
but still the result of the whole may be true ; and
the general aspect in which Christendom views
the Saint may be the right one, though some par-
ticular stories may be false. How few in many
instances are the facts known about some of the
Saints in the Middle Ages. Their parentage is
often forgotten, and the history of their early years
unknown ; or perhaps the names of their parents
are preserved with the vague and suspicious addition
that they were of very noble birth. Some few great
deeds are on record, but the internal struggles which
led to them are all forgotten ; all at once they appear
before us as perfect Saints, as if no discipline had
been required to form them. We are left to eke

58 ST. AELRED

out the scanty materials of their lives with what we
know must have happened, from the character of
the times and from the manners of the age. And
yet perhaps we should hardly regret this ; the picture
of a Saint with the aureole round his head and the
meek expression of joy on his features, may be
unlike what he was in his lifetime, and yet it may
be the more like what he is in heaven now. And
after all, if we had come close to him, a real living
Saint, should we have understood him? If we had
lived with St. Basil, might we not have been tempted
to look upon him as a peevish invalid, to think him
an austere man, or over-sensitive, or too methodical,
and apt to care about trifles ? Many a holy Abbot
must have appeared cross to a lazy monk. We
cannot enter into God's Saints upon earth ; even if
we stand by their side, we could only make an
approximation to the truth, as we do now. This
is the case with Saints in Scripture. How little has
it pleased the Holy Spirit to disclose of their hidden
life, just as much of course as we can bear, and as
was needful for His Church, and yet how little !
Which of the Saints is there that we can picture
vividly to ourselves? In the case of the blessed
Virgin indeed, the Church has marvellously rilled up
the outline of Scripture ; of her we know one fact,
that she was the Mother of God, and the delicate
sense, so to speak, of the Christian mind, has found
out that this must necessarily involve much more
than appears on the surface of Scripture. The
Church has so long dwelt in love on our ever-blessed
Lord in His infancy, that we almost fancy that we
can " come into the house and see the young child

INTRODUCTION 59

with Mary His mother." This may also be the
case with St. Paul, who has left so completely the
impress of his mind on his writings, but it is hardly
so with any other Saint. St. Mary may be said to
live in Christian doctrine ; St. Paul in the Holy
Scriptures ; but the other great Saints connected
with our Lord have their life in Christian tradition.
Even St. John we think of, not as the old man with
the golden mitre, but as ever young and beautiful
as we have been used to see him in ecclesiastical
pictures and sculptures.

All this may perhaps reconcile us to much that is
disappointing from the paucity of materials in the
life of Aelred. And yet his life is such an important
one, from his being the Cistercian Saint of England,
a sort of English St. Bernard, as he is called by his
contemporaries, that he seems to deserve that every
effort should be made to put forward the little that
is known with due prominence. All that can now
be done is to interpret the few facts that remain by
making him, what he really was, the representative
of the internal system of the Cistercian order in
England. Facts taken by themselves prove nothing,
and to suppose that any real knowledge of bygone
times can be obtained from the bare enumeration of
them, is the same error as it would be to suppose
that all our knowledge comes to us from experience.
Without the light thrown upon them by the Cross,
the events of the world are the mere stirrings of the
sick and distempered life of humanity ; even the
lives of Saints are the mere developments of a highly
moral man, as the actions of a hero are the develop-
ment of a great man. If a Christian theory does

60 ST. AELRED

not interpret the lives of Saints, a Pantheistic one
will come in its stead. So we will attempt to show
what Aelred was, by showing in what relation the
system of which he was the head stood to the world
and to the Church of the period. As in the life of
St. Stephen the external life of the Cistercians
was described, so we will attempt now to show what
was their inward life, and to bring it out in contrast,
not only with the troubled world around, but with
that of the leading ecclesiastics of the time. It will
then be seen how the cloister was the remedy pro-
vided by God for keeping up the contemplative life
amidst the busy and distracting scenes in which
ecclesiastics were obliged to take part. It is easy
to do this in the case of Aelred, because we have
a most complete insight into his religious character
from his writings ; and because as he himself is the
historian of much that is related, we are only
endeavouring to look upon the troubled scene with-
out the cloister as he did himself. And all this it
is hoped may reconcile us to the scantiness of facts
about himself, and also to the long digressions which
such a plan involves ; for it is impossible to give
an idea of the work in which he was engaged with-
out pointing out what were the wants of the Church
of the period. Besides which we cannot gain a
correct view of the Middle Ages from the lives of
Saints alone. They had their good and bad points,
like other ages ; and in order to understand the
twelfth century, the world and the cloister must be
shown in opposition. Thus, though the cloister of
Rievaux will be the central point of the whole, the
reader will not be surprised to find himself some-

THE OLD MONASTERY 61

times on the banks of the Rhine, or beyond the Alps,
or to hear the din of border warfare breaking on the
peace of the monastery. Though from the fewness
of materials, we only catch glimpses of Aelred at
intervals, still we will do our best to draw a truthful
picture of him, at once the Saint of England and
of Scotland, once well known from the Frith of
Forth to the banks of the Tyne and the Tees, the
man of peace in the midst of barbarian war.

THE OLD MONASTERY

In the beginning of the reign of Henry I. the
ancient monastery of Hexham was in a miserable
state. Its three Churches were in ruins, and the vast
monastic buildings were desolate ; for ever since the
Danes had sacked and plundered it, there had been
no monks to dwell there.1 One chaplain alone, a
married priest, lived there with his family, a careless
and indifferent man, with one strong feeling in his
soul, and that was a love of the old royal line of
England, and a hatred of the Normans. The circum-
stances which led to his dwelling thus with his
children, in the midst of the ruinous Abbey buildings,
make up a long tale of mingled good and evil. He
was apparently one of a priestly race ; for his grand-
father and father were priests before him. His

1 Post desolationem Nordhymbrorum quam, irruentibus in Angliam
Danis, miserabiliter incurrit, sicut csetera hujus ecclesiae, hsec Hagul-
stadensis, ut verbis propheticis utar, multo tempore sine sacerdote, sine
ephod, sine teraphim gemebunda resedit. Quicquid de lignis fuerat,
ignis absumpsit, bibliotheca ilia nobilissima quam prsesul sanctus con-
diderat tota deperiit. MS. Bodl.

62 ST. AELRED

grandfather, Alured, the son of Weston, was a good
and a learned man. He used to go about through
the North, repairing the ancient places which the
devastation caused by the Danes had laid waste.
One day, there came to him a man who dwelt at
Hexham. He told him that an old man dressed in
pontifical garments had appeared to him in a dream,
and had bidden him go to Alured, and command him
to come to Hexham, and search for the relics of the
Saints which were buried there. Alured bethought
himself awhile, whether this dream were worth attend-
ing to ; but he looked at the man who had brought
him the news, and felt that they were true. He was
a plain man, one of the inferior nobility of the realm,1
and one who had had in his rough life far more to do
with the lance than with the psalter. He thought,
therefore, that he might be trusted, and went with
him to Hexham. They travelled through St. Cuth-
bert's domain, and came to Tynedale, a wasted and
depopulated country, and when they came to Hex-
ham, the miserable inhabitants of the place gathered
about them, to see what they were doing amongst
the ruins. When they heard their errand, the poor
people caught their enthusiasm, and brought spades,
and set to work to help them. From dawn of day they
searched till mid-day came, and they found nothing ;
they searched as men look for treasure, for the names
of Acca and Eata, the ancient Saints of Hexham,
whose bodies they hoped to find, were known as
household words in the hut of every peasant of
Northumberland. They who have no friends on earth,
naturally look about them for friends in heaven, and

1 Vir quidam de minoris ordinis proceribus. Ibid.

THE OLD MONASTERY 63

in the midst of their wasted and depopulated fields,
they bethought themselves of those who originally
reclaimed the country from heathenism. And now
they worked on, for they hoped to see before evening
fell, and to touch their sacred relics ; but the day was
far advanced, and they had found nothing, and in
their disappointment they began to laugh at Alured
for having come all the way from Durham on a fool's
errand. But his enthusiasm did not cool, and he rose
up, and taking a mattock, went to the porch of the
Church, and struck it deep into the ground, saying
that there were the holy Bishops buried. So the
people set to work again, and by-and-bye they came
to two stone coffins, and there lay the bodies of the
Saints, waiting for a blessed resurrection, clad in their
pontifical robes, which time had not impaired. And
all that night they watched about them with chanting
and prayer, and the next day they placed them in a
shrine on the south side of the Church, near the
sacristy. Time went on, and the Conqueror ruled in
England, and another storm of war had depopulated
Tynedale. Other lords possessed the land, who had
never heard of the holy Bishops of Hexham. But
cruel as was the rule of the new possessors of the
soil, yet they brought reformation with them. The
Norman Bishop of Durham, William of St. Carilefe,
loved not the lazy canons, who, without submitting to
any rule whatever, lived on the broad lands which
stretched from the Tyne to the Tees. They were but
poor representatives of St. Cuthbert, those thriftless
canons, and it was well to remove them. They had
the option of becoming monks if they pleased, and
provision was made for them if they chose still to be

64 ST. AELRED

secular.1 One alone, the dean, was persuaded by his
son, a monk, to remain and take the vows ; the others
all remained in the world. There was one among
them who disdained to receive anything at Norman
hands, and this was the son of Alured. The royal
family of England was in exile ; English prelates and
abbots were compelled to make room for foreigners ;
he himself and his brethren were turned out of their
house at Durham, and he disdained to be a pensioner
of the stranger. So he bethought himself of Hex-
ham, the seat of the old Saxon bishops, and went
there to hide his head till better times came. And,
indeed, there were rumours of war in the North, and
the king of Scotland might still make a fight for
St. Edward's line, though Edgar the Atheling had
submitted to the Conqueror, and was soon to assume
the cross under Robert, William's eldest son. So
away went Eillan, for such was his name, to Hexham.
The Bishop, who seems to have been indulgent to
the refractory canons, gave him his sanction, though,
indeed, Eillan need have been in no dread of a rival,
for his new dwelling was a sad scene of desolation.
The country around was still bleeding from the
vengeance of the Conqueror and the Scot, and in the
midst of the deserted fields arose the ruined Abbey

1 Successit Walchero Guillelmus habitu monachus, qui clericos ab
ecclesia Dunelmensi eliminans monachos subrogavit, et aliis quidem
possessiones extra ecclesiam ordinavit, alios id suscipere contemnentes
expellere non cunctavit. Intra quos prsedicti Aluredi filius qui cseteris
praeerat, cum nihil ab episcopo suscipere dignaretur, adiit venerabilem
archiepiscopum Thomam qui primus Normannorum rexit ecclesiam
Eboracensem rogans ut ei Hagulstudensem ecclesiam daret aedifican-
dam. — It does not appear what "qui praeerat" means, for the dean
became a monk of the new monastery. Simeon Dunelm. b. iv. 3.

THE OLD MONASTERY 65

itself.1 Its Church was half unroofed, and the rain
and the snow forced a ready entrance through the
gaps in the tiles ; the tesselated pavement was in
many places torn up, the windows were dashed in,
and the high columns were covered with green moss,
and with damp, which was rapidly eating away the
frescoes on the walls, and on the arch which divided
the nave from the choir.2 Amidst these ruins lived
the family of the Saxon priest ; the Abbey lands
were amply sufficient for their maintenance, but there
were no cornfields around, and no vassals to till
them ; so they lived on hunting and hawking for two
years after their arrival, and in the thick woods
around them, many a wild deer was aroused by the
horns and the hounds of the Saxons. Not long after
they came there, the Abbey lands were given to a
Norman, by Gerard, Archbishop of York, and this of
course did not make Eillan love the strangers a whit
more. He was allowed to continue there as chaplain,
and a large part of the proceeds still came to him.
After his death, his son, also called Eillan, the priest
whom we have seen at Hexham, succeeded his father.
He found himself heir to the ruined Abbey, and he
inherited, too, the feelings and prejudices of his
family, the love for Hexham and its Saints, and for

1 Veniens ad locum homo invenit omnia desolata, muros ecclesiae
sine tegmine sordere feno, silvis supercrescentibus horrere, litura
imbribus et tempestate dejecta, nihil pristini retinuisse decoris. Erat
autem tails terrse illius desolatio ut fere biennio ex solo venatu et
aucupio se sum [sic], que familiam sustineret. So well was the remem-
brance of the family kept at Hexham, that there was not long ago, and
may be still, a street in Hexham called Eilan's Street.

2 Arcum sanctuarii historiis et imaginibus et variis cselaturarum figuris
— decoravit. Richard of Hexham, De Statu Eccl. Hagulst. c. 3.

VOL. V. E

66 ST. AELRED

the old royal line of England, and probably, no great
goodwill to the Norman rulers, ecclesiastical or civil.
But it is said of him that he was " a sinner, and that
he lived as he ought not to have done." l What this
means is not known, but it is probable that he was of
the jovial race of hunting priests, who knew more about
the winding of horns and the cheering of hounds
than about Gregorian chants ; for these unsacerdotal
accomplishments were but too common among the
Saxon clergy of the time. This was not a promising
character for the father of a Saint, and yet Eillan had
three sons, one of whom was Aelred,2 and a daughter,
who became a holy recluse.

The present is not the first time in the annals of
England that her monastic system has been extinct ;
at least, it was so in the north at the period of which
we write ; and in the south the spirit of monks seems
to have well-nigh disappeared, though there were
still vast Abbeys, flourishing in worldly wealth. But
their Abbots were often men frank - hearted and
generous, yet with far more of the noble lord about
them than of the churchman. A type of them was
the high-spirited Abbot of St. Alban's, who disdained
to submit to the Conqueror, and left his Abbey for
the fastnesses of Ely, where Hereward was still

1 Qui, licet peccator secus quam oportuit vixerit — ecclesias, tamen
Christi renovandas ornandas serviendas devotum se et sollicitum
exhibebat. — MS. Bodl. From the same manuscript it appears, in the
dedication of his life of St. Bridget, that Lawrence, Abbot of West-
minster, knew Eillan, and received from him the original life, which
being "semi-barbara," he polished up and made " Latinissima."

2 The common date for the birth of St. Aelred is 1109. The evi-
dence of this depends on the date assigned for his death in the life of
him, given in the Bollandists, which says that he died in 1166, in his
fifty-seventh year.

THE OLD MONASTERY 67

fighting for the old royal line of England. In the
North, however, monastic life was fairly extinct, and
if by chance a stray monk, in the black Benedictine
habit, was seen north of the Humber, men stared at
his cowl and shaven crown as they would at the
strange dress of a foreigner.1 Aelred, then, was born
amid the very ruins of the ancient monasticism of the
North. Instead of the green banks where grew
primroses and violets, the first place where his little
feet would naturally take him, would be the ruined
nave of the old church, with its mysterious side
chapels ; and there were beautiful faces of Saints
peering out upon him, amidst the damp green moss
which was struggling with the bright colours of the
frescoes. And he would first hear of St. Wilfrid, the
founder of Hexham, though his relics were far away
at Canterbury, for it was he who traced the pictures
on the walls, to instruct the barbarous people whom
he had to teach.2 He would hear, too, of Acca, the
successor of St. Wilfrid, the friend of Bede, for though
his name was almost forgotten in the ecclesiastical
calendar, the peasants knew his shrine, and every
little child could tell where the relics of the holy
Bishop lay.3 His first play-ground would be the
ruined cloisters of the Abbey, where the crosses still
marked the graves of the old monks. And the

1 Simeon Dunelm. in. ann. 1074.

2 Verum ubi earn beatissimus prsesul Wilfridus, adductis secum ex
partibus transmarinis artificibus, miro lapideo tabulatu ut in prsesenti-
arum cernitis, renovavit, et ad devotionem rudis adhuc plebis concilian-
dam picturis et cselaturis multifariam decoravit. MS. Bodl.

3 Nam ante translationem multis annis cum adhuc puerulus essem
Accam, Alchmundum, Fredenbertum, Tilbertum ibi simul requiescere
nihil hoesitans populus totus clamabat. Ibid.

68 ST. AELRED

stories which he heard were of the good St. Edward,
with tales of King Alfred's wars and of Edmund
Ironside.

He was not many years old when a change took
place at Hexham, which took away some portion
of its desolateness. His father had a brother, a
religious and devout man, who was grieved at seeing
the possessions of the church thus turned into a
family inheritance, and by his persuasion, Eillan
was induced to apply to the Archbishop of York
for some canons to serve as a germ for the future
restoration of the community. Conscious as he
was of his own disorderly life, he still loved the
Abbey, and had done his best to clear away the
rubbish from the Church, and to repair the most
ruined portions. It was probably connected in his
mind with the old glories of England ; there is a
strange connection between loyalty for an exiled
royal family and religion. The devotional feeling
is often merely hereditary as well as the loyalty ;
yet it is true that the party of a dethroned monarch
is generally also that of religion. In this way,
probably, did Eillan love Hexham and wish for its
restoration ; still his disinterestedness did not carry
him so far as to give up one jot of his personal
rights over the Abbey lands. So poor were the
canons that they often found it very hard to live
on the poor remnant of their property;1 and yet
Eillan showed no inclination whatever to better
their condition. However the canons were there,

1 Curam parochise cum maxima parte beneficiorum — de ipsis canon-
icis longo tempore tenuit. — Richard of Hexham, De Stat. Eccl.
Hag. 2. 8.

THE OLD MONASTERY 69

and Aelred could not wander about the old Abbey-
buildings without seeing them, and hearing them
chant the service. Monks and monkish men are
always good friends with children, and doubtless
the fair-haired Saxon boy soon made their acquaint-
ance. He was a happy boy, running wherever he
pleased about the old Church and Abbey ; and it
may have been the remembrance of his curious old
home on the banks of the Tyne, and of his holy
childhood, which made him dwell with peculiar joy
on the infancy and childhood of our blessed Lord,
in after-times, when, after many a hard struggle,
he had gained another home, even more peaceful
and secluded. Strange, indeed, it is, when by dint
of fighting and hard blows we have been moulded
into that character which in substance is to be ours
for all eternity, to look back upon the time of our
malleable and plastic childhood. How little often
can we remember of it! A mazy dream of sick-
nesses and pains, all coloured by the scenes in
which our lot was cast, the sounding sea or the
watery meadows, or the high mountains.

So small a portion of Aelred's life was spent
there, that his chroniclers have forgotten it. An
obscure charter found in Richard of Hexham inci-
dentally preserves the memory of it. And yet
these years of his childhood had much influence
on his future life ; the chant of the canons remained
as an undersong amidst all the festivities and the
tournaments of a king's court ; for this is the next
scene in which we find him.1 When he quitted his

1 " Ab ipsis incunabulis," says Aelred, "cum Henrico vixi." De
Gen. Reg. Angl. ap. Twysden, vol. i. 368.

70 ST. AELRED

home at Hexham, Aelred became the playmate of
a prince's son. David, the brother of Alexander,
king of Scotland, and heir-apparent to the throne,
took him into his family and brought him up with
his son Henry. David had left his country in early
life, and had preferred the court of his brother-in-
law, Henry I. of England, to the chance of succeeding
to the turbulent throne of Scotland. He had
married the daughter of earl Waltheof, who had
fallen a victim to the resentment of the Conqueror,
and who was regarded as a martyr of the Saxon
cause. His mother was Saint Margaret, the sister
of Edgar Atheling. Add to which, besides the
two earldoms which he possessed, Huntingdon and
Northampton, he had also a claim upon Northum-
berland1 in right of his wife, who was descended
from the old earls of the county. He would thus
be naturally brought to Hexham, the spiritual
capital of Northumberland ; and its staunch old
Saxon priest would be sure to attract the notice
of a descendant of Saint Margaret. Another cir-
cumstance would draw him towards the little Aelred ;
his first child had perished in his infancy by a
terrible accident,2 and Henry, his son, was left
without a companion, for David never had any
other male children. The beauty of the Saxon
boy struck him, and he determined to bring him
up with his son, for his daughters, Clarice and
Hodierna, could be no mates for the high-spirited
boy, who in after life was called Henry the heroic.

1 David claimed Northumberland for his son Henry on this ground.
Fordun, v. 42.

2 Orderic. Vital. Eccl. Hist. 8, in ann. 1092.

THE OLD MONASTERY 71

Henry was a devout and good prince, and even
when he grew older and was a soldier in the camp,
was said to be like a young monk. But there was
another boy of more congenial tastes to Aelred,
and that was Waltheof, the son of David's queen
by her former husband ; but of him more by-and-
bye.

CHAPTER II

THE REFORMATION IN SCOTLAND

WHO could have in the whole world better prospects
than Aelred ? The courts of England and Scotland
were opening upon him ; a rich heiress with a
noble fief, or, if he preferred the church, a mitred
abbacy would have been reasonable objects of a
laudable ambition. But here we must pause, and
while Aelred is growing up in David's family, take
a look at the state of politics in the north. The
kingdom of Scotland, I had almost said the church,
was in process of formation. It was Aelred's
destiny to be thrown among the ruins of a state
of things passed away ; by-and-bye he will assist
in the raising up of a new system ; but we must
first learn what were the wild and unruly elements
among which his lot was cast. Alas ! for Scotland.
How was it ever to become like a Christian kingdom ?
Its hierarchy was as yet unformed ; it had been cast
out of the stream of European civilisation, and its
communications with the Christian world were but
few and far between. The sixth century is a long
way off from the twelfth ; and it was in that early
time that a voice was heard going through the
western isles and the wild coasts of Argyle, pro-
claiming peace on earth, good-will towards men.

72

REFORMATION IN SCOTLAND 73

The good news spread across to the mainland,
from Oban, down by the banks of Loch Awe, even
to the wild headland of Cantyre ; and the savage
people were turned to the faith of Christ. It was
then that in the north arose lona, or Icolmkill,
Columba's cell; and the kings of Norway, of Scotland,
and of the Isles, chose to lie around the shrine of
St. Columba, while in the south among the Picts,
St. Ninian had founded Whiterne. Still it is quite
true that Christianity never seized upon the hearts
of the people as it did in the south ; it was a hard
task indeed to penetrate through all the wild glens,
the winding lakes, and the forests of pine which
lie among those savage mountains, but this it did
accomplish ; what it did not do was to bend the
stubborn heart, the rough and disputatious temper
of the men. There was something forbidding in
the original Scottish monks : they did not seize
on the hearts of the people. They never succeeded
in extinguishing hatred between rival races, and
while England was one kingdom at the Norman
Conquest, Scotland had not even a right to one
name ; it was Pictland as well as Scotland, and
there was in the north beyond the Grampians, still
the Gael, the wild and untamed savage of the north.
Scotland was really only Argyleshire and the Isles ;
the country beneath, from the two Friths, that is,
the Lothians and Strathclyde, belonged to England ;
while Galloway, with its savage Picts, was a debat-
able land, ground down between both. Christianity
had not drawn together the hearts of the savage
chieftains ; and what was worse, it had not suc-
ceeded in purifying their vices ; among no nation,

74 ST. AELRED

calling itself Christian, was the sanctity of marriage
so little respected as among the Picts and Scots.1

Alas ! for Scotland. By the time of the Normar
Conquest, the work of St. Columba and St. Niniar
was undone. Whiterne had no bishop ; he had long
ago been driven away in some of the cruel anc
constant wars which raged in the country. Ir
Scotland, the bishopric of St. Andrews was stil
standing. But all was in a miserable state ; there
too monasticism had disappeared ; the far-famec
Culdees were a set of degenerate priests ; they hac
given up their original rule, and had wives anc
children ; and it is said of them that they hardl)
ever celebrated mass at St. Andrew's altar, excepi
when the king came to see them.2 In this state
of things, it was well for Scotland that, by God'j
will, its kings became feudal vassals of England
Feudalism, instead of being, as has been supposed
the partition of a territory among many lords, was
in reality the binding of a number of disjointec
communities into one. The independent patriarcha
chieftain who did homage to his conqueror anc
received back his lands from him, was bound, or
pain of forfeiting them, to assist his suzerain when-
ever he required his services ; and the feudal heac
thus became the centre of a number of before
disjointed hordes.3 But feudalism also containec
another principle, and that was, that within his

1 See St. Aelred's Life in the Bollandists.

2 Pinkerton, Enquiry, Appendix, p. 462.

3 Those who know Sir Francis Palgrave's great work on the Anglo
Saxon Constitution, will see at once how much the author* is indebtec
to him for pointing out the relation which existed between Englanc
and Scotland, and throughout this chapter.

REFORMATION IN SCOTLAND 75

own territory each lord was absolute ; his suzerain
could not interfere with his jurisdiction ; infangthief
and outfangthief implied a very perfect and intel-
ligible power of hanging and imprisoning as he
pleased. This of course varied with the real power
of the suzerain : in proportion as he was strong,
his vassals were less independent ; thus, for instance,
the great vassals of the French king were much
more like independent chieftains than an English
earl under the Conqueror or Henry II. In the case
of Scotland, the king, while he became the vassal
of the English crown, strengthened his authority
at home. He became himself a feudal superior
over his people, instead of a patriarchal chieftain
with limited powers. Besides which the English
king made him the feudal lord of Cumbria, which
included not only the modern shires of Renfrew and
Lanark, but " merry Carlisle " also, and the whole
of Cumberland, to be held as a fief from himself.
And the very dependent relation in which he
placed himself was perhaps more useful to himself
and his people in another way. It made him a
portion of the great European body, and brought
them into contact with the rest of Christendom.

The Norman Conquest indirectly still further im-
proved Scotland. Malcolm Canmore, an intelligent
and upright prince, was then on the throne. He
had been driven into exile by Macbeth, the murderer
of his father, and had lived for fourteen years in King
Edward's court ; here he had learned a lesson which
he did not forget when he returned to his own wild
and troubled home in the north. He had learned
what was the meaning of a feudal king, not only the

;6 ST. AELRED

leader in war of a savage horde, with whom he was
the common proprietor of a certain number of streams
and mountains, but the lord of the soil, the dispenser
of justice, according to determinate forms. He had
had before him also a model of devotion, chastity,
and justice in the saintly Edward. He had seen
also there Margaret, a Saxon maiden, then a child
of ten years old, and the niece of the Confessor,
in whose veins flowed the blood of the royal house
of England, and the imperial line of Germany ; l and
when he came back to his desolate palace of Dun-
fermline, surrounded by wars abroad and treachery
within, he still thought of the holy family which
he had seen in his exile at Westminster. After
many years news came to Scotland that St. Edward
was dead, and that Harold had seized on the throne ;
and next that a great battle had been fought, and
that the Normans ruled in England. Malcolm at
once armed his powers in favour of Edgar, and of
the line of St. Edward ; but the Conqueror was too
strong for him, and his country was invaded, and
he himself compelled to submit. What in the
meanwhile was become of Margaret? One day,
Malcolm was sitting in his palace of Dunfermline ;
the wind had been blowing fiercely, and news was
brought him that a large ship had been driven by
stress of weather into the bay. He sent down to

1 Malcolm was fourteen years in Edward's court ; he left it at the
latter end of the year 1056, the very year in which Margaret came
back from Hungary. Comp. Fordun, lib. v. c. 7, n, 16. Orderic,
as Sir F. Palgrave has observed, says that St. Edward betrothed
Margaret to Malcolm. This appears inconsistent however with
Turgot's narrative, if Fordun gives it rightly ; for he seems to imply
that Edgar betrothed his sister to Malcolm.

REFORMATION IN SCOTLAND 77

the shore some of his nobles to see where the strange
ship had come from ; then they brought him word
that they had seen a man of princely bearing dis-
embark with two maidens, one taller than the other,
and of surpassing beauty. Malcolm sent for them,
and found to his joy that they were the exiled
family of England, whom God had thus directed
to his land. Poor Margaret ! she had looked with
terror at the high mountains and rugged rocks of
the land on which they had been cast, and with
still more terror at the wild looks of the nobles,
who had come to gaze upon them ; but she now
thanked God who sent to them a protector who
loved the memory of St. Edward. Not long after,
Malcolm begged of Edgar to bestow upon him the
hand of his sister, and Margaret became queen of
Scotland. It was by God's good providence that
the line of St. Edward was planted afresh in
Scotland ; it was providential too that Margaret was
chosen at this special time to be queen of Scotland,
for it was a turning-point in the history of the
country, and Margaret became its reformer.

What could a poor foreign maiden do on such a
throne? amidst a court where the utmost depravity
prevailed, and the wild nobles swore unchristian
oaths in the presence of their queen. The very
loneliness, and the distance from her country, was
enough to appal the heart of a maiden ; and the
rude rafters and comfortless halls, and the windy
passages of an old northern palace, were in them-
selves sufficient to weigh down with its gloom the
heart of a female, brought up in the palace of
Westminster. What then could Margaret do?

8o ST. AELRED

carry them away, and have them beautifully illumi-
nated with figures of saints and golden letters ; he
would cover them with gold and jewels, and bring
them back to her with joyful triumph.

Her gentle influence was exerted in improving
the taste, and refining the manners of Scottish
females ; the most terrible licentiousness reigned in
the kingdom, but she was like a light from heaven, a
type of all purity to her subjects, and her example
purified the land. She had ever about her a number
of noble maidens, whom she brought up within the
palace, and there wrought rich palls for the altar,
and magnificent vestments of all sorts for the service
of the Church. To purify and refine their taste,
she encouraged merchants to come to the kingdom,
and of them she bought the richest wares, gold
and silver vases, and jewels of price. Into this
her little court where she sat with her maidens at
work, she admitted none of the nobles but those
of whom she had a good opinion ; and she was
herself the life and the centre of the circle.

But one thing Margaret did, which Popes and
Councils had found a hard matter, and that was,
to bring the Church to a uniformity with the rest
of Christendom. Strangely indeed had the old
tendencies of the Scotch Church developed. Three
centuries had passed since the monks of lona had
submitted to be like the rest of Christendom ; but
these had been centuries of weakness and of sleep,
and when the voice of St. Gregory VII. called men
out of their sleep, each Church had to consider what
evils it had to reform.1 Feudalism had created

1 The Scotch appear never to have been treated as schismatics by

REFORMATION IN SCOTLAND 81

national Churches and striven to cut off the com-
munication between the parts of Christendom, and
this even where it falls short of actual schism is
sure to weaken the healthy action of the whole.
Scotland had had no feudalism, and therefore it had
no prince-bishops, no high baronial abbots, and no
simony. But the old sour and sullen spirit had
come out, and the developments of the nationality
of Scotland were curious. They had given up their
old way of keeping Easter, but they had taken up
a wrong method of keeping Lent. Instead of
beginning on Ash -Wednesday, they put off the
fast till the Monday after. Besides which, with a
sort of northern Jansenism, they excluded sinners
from the Holy Communion on Easter-day, even
those whom after confession and penitence, the
Church would have received. Lastly, they used in
the administration of mass, certain superstitious
rites, unknown to the Catholic Church.

It was a strange sight, that assembly in which
Margaret, with her husband for an interpreter, argued
these points with the Scotch, who certainly have ever
shown a singular immobility in religious matters,
both of practice and of faith. It was hardly the pro-
vince of a woman, it was private judgment ; and yet
Margaret had that strange way of arriving at con-
clusions without premises, that unreasoning logic, by
which the female mind arrives at what is right by an
unconscious process. She had the Catholic church
on her side, and it did not require any deep abstract

the Holy See, notwithstanding their different mode of celebrating
Easter, which was not that condemned in the Council of Nice.
v. Baronius, in ann. 634.

VOL. V. F

82 ST. AELRED

views to tell her that the Scotch were wrong. The
natural rectitude of a Christian heart would tell her,
when the Lenten fast came round, that it was an
unnatural thing to be keeping carnival when the
brethren in other lands were fasting and mourning.
Brethren and sisters love to be together at Christmas,
and when any member of a family is carried to the
grave, terrible as is the grief, all like to share it to-
gether, and to accompany the beloved body to the
tomb. The Christian world is one family, and when
the bells in England rang out an Ash- Wednesday
sound, Margaret would not have them rung with a
merry chime in Scotland ; as well might a sister
dance while her brother is in mourning. Thus, the
strangely Catholic instinct of the Christian heart
would alone guide Margaret, without any profound
abstract views of unity and uniformity. Cold and
dead does reasoning fall upon the soul, in comparison
with this yearning for oneness, of the same nature,
as the love of brethren and sisters, though tenfold
stronger. In such cases private judgment may be
safely left to itself, and becomes infallible ; and so
Margaret felt that she could not err, though she were
teaching the doctors of the church of her nation.
And so again with respect to Paschal communion,
one who had herself received the Body of her Lord
at Easter would feel it strange that any one who was
not actually excommunicated should be banished
from the altar at that holy time ; and when the
Clergy urged those fearful words of St. Paul against
those who receive unworthily, " All are unworthy in
one sense," answered the queen, "but they who for
many days before have done penance after confessing

REFORMATION IN SCOTLAND 83

their sins on Easter-day, coming to the table of the
Lord in the Catholic faith, receive the flesh and blood
of the immaculate Lamb, not to judgment, but to the
remission of sins." Three things more she obtained
from the council, the abolition of superstitious rites at
the holy sacrifice of the mass, the observance of the
Sunday, which had fallen into disuse in the realm,
and certain canons against unlawful marriages. The
high - spirited Scot, in his enthusiastic love for her
goodness, gave up to her gentle persuasion what the
authority of their king could not have extorted by
force, and what they would never have yielded to the
arguments of the Saxon priests.

And now it may well be asked what was the
hidden life of Margaret. This cheerful queen, who
walked abroad clad in gold and jewels, could hardly
have an ascetic air ; and yet beneath her gorgeous
robes was a body chastised by perpetual fasts, and
knees hardened by long prayers. She kept a fast of
forty days before Christmas, in addition to the fast
before Lent ; and during those seasons of penitence
she rose before midnight, and spent the hours of
darkness in singing psalms. A great part of this
time she was often alone in prayer in the Church,
and when the clerks came in to sing their office, they
found her there ready to join them. As the day
dawned she lay down again for a very short time to
refresh her weary body ; and all this while, during
these long and wearing fasts, she was going about
doing works of active benevolence. Even before her
second brief sleep in the morning, she, with Malcolm's
help, had washed the feet of six poor people, and
given them alms to relieve their wants. And scarcely

84 ST. AELRED

had she risen again, when nine orphan infants were
brought to her ; she stooped down on her knees to
feed them ; and none of the details of sops and of
baby linen were beneath her royal care. During the
day three hundred poor were relieved by her own
hand and that of the king. She had another care, of
which nothing has yet been said, the care of her
children, and how she fulfilled this duty the sub-
sequent history of Scotland bears witness. How
well she loved them and her royal husband, her
death will tell. Neither her austere life and religious
exercises, nor, what was much more likely to do it,
her gold and jewels, and queenly apparel, had seared
her woman's heart. Her husband and her elder sons
were in England engaged in the siege of Alnwick,
and she herself had long been ailing, and was now
very ill. One day her attendants observed that she
was sad, an unusual thing with her ; her heart was
thinking on her husband and her sons, who were far
away over the border, fighting on English ground,
and she said to those about her, " Who knows
whether some great evil has not happened to the
Scottish realm?" She got daily worse and worse,
and her features had already the paleness of death
upon them. She had received the last sacrament,
and ordered the Black Cross to be brought to her.
It was a piece of the true cross, on which was an
ivory figure of the Lord crucified, the whole enclosed
in a beautiful reliquary of gold.1 She had brought it
over with her from England, and now she wished to
die with it in her hands, and when it was found hard
to open the case in which it was contained, she

1 St. Aelred, de Genealog. Twysden, i. 349.

REFORMATION IN SCOTLAND 85

exclaimed, " Ah ! wretched sinner ! I am not then
worthy to look upon the Holy Cross " ; and when
at length it was brought to her, she kissed it, and
wept over it, and glued it to her lips, repeating all the
while the fifty-first psalm. At this moment her son
Alexander entered the room ; she revived on seeing
him, and asked him for news about his father and
brother. He answered that they were well ; the
dying queen, however, guessed the truth by his
mournful countenance, and conjured him by the
Holy Cross, which she held in her hands, to tell her.
He then told her the truth ; his father and his
brother had both been killed. Margaret raised her
hands to heaven, and said, "All praise be to Thee,
everlasting God, who hast made me suffer such
agony in my death, as I hope, to the cleansing of
some of the stains of my sins." And soon after this
her poor broken heart ceased to beat.

She went to where the wicked cease from troub-
ling, and the weary are at rest ; and she left behind
her war and desolation in Scotland. Scarcely had
the breath passed from her body when it was re-
marked that a sweet bloom had come over the
death -like paleness of her face, and her features
assumed a beautiful expression of peace. It con-
trasted strangely with the wild storm which raged
around her sacred relics. A party among the Scots
hated the rule of Malcolm, as being a favourer of
Sassenaghs and foreigners ; * the wild Gael loved

1 Omnes Anglos qui de curia regis extiterunt de Scotia expulerant —
Post hac eum regnare permiserunt ea ratione ut amplius in Scotia
nee Anglos, nee Normannos introduceret. Simeon Dunelm, in ann.
1093.

86 ST. AELRED

not the approach of civilisation, and a party was
already in arms prepared to besiege the castle of
Edinburgh, where lay her body. Hurriedly by a
postern door her sacred remains were conveyed
away, and buried in the Abbey of Dunfermline.
The rebels succeeded for a time in expelling her
son from the throne. For five years war and rapine
ravaged Scotland, and usurpers wore its crown, but
at length it pleased God to restore Edgar, the eldest
surviving son of Margaret, to the throne. He was
like his great uncle, St. Edward, a mild and amiable
prince, and the weary land had peace in his days.
After him came a remarkable prince, Alexander,
surnamed the Fierce ; and need he had of fierce-
ness, for he had to rule an unruly kingdom, and
by main force to keep in awe his rebellious nobles.
But fierce as he was to them, he was mild and
beneficent to the Clergy, whom he loved for his
sainted mother's sake. They were men of en-
lightened policy, these kings of Scotland ; they
cherished all the learning and goodness which the
Norman invasion had drifted from the south. This,
however, might have been merely the effect of
circumstances ; the Saxon kingdom had stretched
to the north as far as the castle of the Maidens,
the modern name of which, Edwin's burgh, even
now bears witness to the Saxon rule. The policy
of the Saxon kings, by giving it to be ruled as a
fief by the Scottish king, had converted a dangerous
enemy into a friend, and when the Norman con-
quest came sweeping before it all that was English,
it was natural that the Saxons should retire towards
the north, and Sassenagh, the name so long applied

REFORMATION IN SCOTLAND 87

to the Lowlander by the Gael, bears witness to the
extent of the southern importation. It shows also
their contempt for their native kings who had
adopted the manners and civilisation of the
Southron ; and this feeling created the party
among the native Scottish nobles, which cost so
much trouble to Alexander and his brothers. This
would naturally incline the king to those of Saxon
blood. But it could be nothing but a sound and
Christian policy which prompted them to amal-
gamate their discordant races by the erection of
new bishoprics.1 St. Andrews, for a long time

1 Amidst the great confusion attending the ecclesiastical History of
Scotland, it is difficult to fix the time of the creation or revival of
the sees. The common account given in Buchanan cannot be trusted,
for St. Aelred (de Genealog. Twysden, p. 348) expressly says that
David found only three or four sees when he came to the throne.
The truth probably is that there were great irregularities (as appears
from the 43rd canon of the second Council of Chalons) and that the
sees were for a long time unfixed. It appears that by an unusual
regulation, the Abbot and monks of lona had, not of course the
consecration, as has been supposed, of Bishops, but their appoint-
ment and mission, v. Thomassin, I, 3, 14, 12. The Bishops thus
continued to be like Bishops in partibus without fixed sees. It is
difficult to fix the precise time when this state of things ceased. It
probably did not cease at once, for in David's time there was an
irregular election of a Bishop, which looks like a part of the old
system, v. William of Newbridge, i. 23 ; and as late as 1297, the
Culdees made an effort to regain the right of election. It seems,
however, likely that Alexander effected the real change by taking
the jurisdiction out of the hands of the Culdees, and thus fixing the
sees. First, the expulsion of the Culdees from St. Andrews, and the
revival of Glasgow was in his time. The latter event indeed was
executed by David, as appears from the inquisition taken by him in
Pinkerton ; but it was done before he came to the throne, and while
he was ruler of Cumbria under his brother, as was usual with the heir-
apparent to the throne, v. Palgrave, p. 441. Secondly, a passage is
quoted in the preface to Twysden, from a manuscript in the Cotton

88 ST. AELRED

was the only fixed Scottish See, and its Bishop
was called the Bishop of the Scots,1 as the prelate
of Whiterne, as successor of St. Ninian, was the
Bishop of the Picts. To this see King Alexander
added Glasgow and perhaps also Elgin, or at least
he revived them ; and took care to appoint to these
sees men of learning and piety. But the throne
of a Scottish diocese was by no means an easy
seat. Turgot, whom Alexander early in his reign
appointed to the see of St. Andrews, went back to
his cloister of Durham, for his heart sunk within
him at the difficulties which surrounded him.
Eadmer, too, the companion of St. Anselm, was
elected to the same see, but the very next year

library, which, though it contains mistakes, is too remarkable to have
been written without authority. Anno. ab. Inc. Domini 1108, ac
tempore Regis Malcolmi et S. Margaritae electus fuit Turgotus, Prior
Dunelmensis in Episcopatum St. Andrese et in diebus illis totum
jus Keledeorum per totum regnum Scotise transivit in Episcopatum
S. Andrese. Turgot was not made Bishop by Malcolm, but by
Alexander ; and so it appears that in Alexander's days the jurisdiction
over Scotland was taken away from the Culdees, and transferred to
the Bishop of St. Andrews. The actual erection of St. Andrews
into a metropolitan see was not effected till long afterwards, owing
to the opposition of the Archbishop of York ; but the breaking of the
power of the Culdees, is in this passage clearly expressed. It is
therefore most likely on the whole that the great change is to be
referred to him, and not to Malcolm. Caithness and Elgin may have
been revived by Malcolm ; yet it is remarkable that the revolt in
consequence of which they are said to have been erected, is probably
that said by Fordun to have occurred in Alexander's time. The
creation of the greater number of the Scottish Sees is owing to David,
as St. Aelred says that on his accession to the throne he found three
or four sees, but at his death left nine. Two out of these four are
known to have been St. Andrews and Glasgow, the other two were
probably Elgin and Caithness.

1 Pinkerton, Enquiry, Appendix, p. 464.

REFORMATION IN SCOTLAND 89

he came back to Canterbury, for it was better to
be a simple monk of St. Benedict than to bear
the weary crosier of St. Andrews. Again, John, the
new Bishop of Glasgow, fairly ran away to Rome,
and from thence to the Holy Land, and could only
be brought back but by an express command of
the Holy See. One part of their difficulty was
doubtless their difference with the Archbishop of
York, who claimed canonical jurisdiction over them,
but the chief obstacles lay in their unruly Clergy,
the degenerate Culdees. Alexander, however, de-
termined to remedy this evil ; monasticism was
reviving in the north of England, and wherever a
new monastery was established, or an old one re-
vived, there were the headquarters of religion, and
the monks became the instructors of a people,
whom the mere pressure of desolation had stupefied
and brutalised. The example of Durham had given
him a precedent for the expulsion of the secularised
Culdees, and he substituted regular canons for them
at St. Andrews. He restored to the prior and
canons of St. Andrews the lands which had been
taken away from the Church, and the quaint style
in which the act of restoration was effected is a
specimen of the state of things in Scotland. In the
cathedral of St. Andrews all the nobles of the
realm were assembled ; and with them Robert, the
newly-elected Bishop, formerly prior of Scone, and
the new canons of the convent, their shaven crowns
and ecclesiastical habit mingling strangely with the
bright armour of the Lowland nobles, and the
waving plaid of the chieftains of the Gael. In the
midst of this assembly there was led up to the

90 ST. AELRED

high altar Alexander's Arabian war horse, saddled
and bridled, and spendidly caparisoned, with the
king's shield fastened to his back, and a silver
lance, which afterwards became the shaft of the
crucifix of the Church. By this strange charter
the lands were delivered to the monks, and the
transaction was duly impressed upon the witnesses.
Besides which he built the Abbey of the Holy
Trinity at Scone, the ancient seat of Scottish
royalty, and the monastery of St. Columba, in the
little island of Inchcolm, in the Frith of Forth ;
and any one who has been on Loch Tay, will re-
member the green islet where a monastery was
erected over the grave of his wife Sibylla.

It was in the year 1124 that Alexander died,
shortly after he had conferred the lands on the
Church of St. Andrews. His brother David thus
found himself in possession of an unenviable throne,
for Alexander died childless.1 He endeavoured to
avoid the dangerous honour ; and indeed he had
few temptations to quit the court of England, where
he was honoured as the first of English nobles.
Henry had loved him for the cheerful and warm-
hearted disposition which he had inherited from
his sainted mother. He had been knighted by the
king's own hand, and was a general favourite with
the whole court. He related to Aelred of himself,
in after times, that he used to smile at his sister,
the good queen Maud, and at the filthy objects
whose wants, in her charity, she would herself
relieve. But even in the thoughtlessness of his
youth, he was preserved from evil, and was already

1 Scimus enim regnum non appetivisse sed horruisse, says St. Aelred.

REFORMATION IN SCOTLAND 91

distinguished by his zeal for the Church in that
part of Scotland which, as heir-apparent to the
crown, was his appanage. And now he shuddered
at the task which was imposed upon him. He
yielded, however, to the persuasion of the Bishops,
and was crowned. It was of the utmost conse-
quence to Henry, that in the event of a disputed
succession, which was likely, Scotland should be
in the hands of one bound to the line of St. Edward
by so many ties ; and he, too, probably urged David
to accept the throne. David did not find his king-
dom so hard to rule as he had imagined. What
his brother, with all his fierceness, could keep only
at the cost of much labour and blood, he ruled in
peace by his meekness and charity.1 He managed
to reconcile, at least to keep in order, the two dis-
cordant elements of his kingdom, the old patriarchal
chieftains of the plaided clans, and the new nobles
which were rising up, the earls and barons of the
feudal Lowlands. He was the king, in an especial
manner, of the Church and of the poor. A novel
personage for Scotland, and one which she had not
seen for centuries, meets us at the outset of his
reign — a legate of the Holy See. He met the King
with the Bishops and Clergy at Roxburgh. In the
reign of Malcolm, the queen was the leading figure
in the council, and though perfectly justified by
circumstances, it was not the usual mode of pro-
ceeding, as may well be supposed. David's object
was to fix the hierarchy, and to erect a native

1 Regnum quod frater laboriorissime tenuit, mox ille sine contra-
dictione susceptum, quaquaversum inclinum sibi et quietum tenuit.
— Sim. Dunelm. in ann. 1124. St. Aelred calls him the author of
the Scottish polity.

92 ST. AELRED

church, instead of depending on English clergy.
To effect the first of these purposes, he more than
doubled the number of Bishops ; and for the latter
object, he erected many monasteries of the Cis-
tercian order, and houses of regular canons. How
well he succeeded is evident from the fact, that
while contemplation was by no means the line of
the old Scottish clergy, some of the distinguished
members of the mystic school of St. Victor, at
Paris, were Scotchmen. He was in some measure
a St. Louis in the twelfth century, and thesstory
of his often returning to his palace at the petition
of a poor man, when he had already foot in stirrup,
and the merry horn was calling him to the chase,
reminds one of the oak of Vincennes, under which
the good Louis sat to give judgment to all who
came to him. His brother Alexander's appetite
probably was not spoiled when, in his royal justice
he hanged a felon ; but David was known to weep
on ordering an execution. In another respect was
David like the sainted king. The good people, in
St. Louis's reign, made jingling rhymes about his
love for clerks, and one of David's successors called
him a "sair Saint for the crown." And yet James
might have had no kingdom to govern, if David
had not preceded him ; and doubtless the crown
was not the worse for the prayers which monks
and nuns offered up in the many abbeys founded
by David ; nor were the Scotch less religious be-
cause he left nine bishoprics where he found but
four. If it had not been for the unhappy invasion
of England, which will be noticed by-and-bye, the
parallel with St. Louis would have been complete.

CHAPTER III

THE STRUGGLE

L WE left Aelred in his boyhood, the playfellow of
VTeur; , the son of David, Earl of Huntingdon, and
we must now be content to find him a youth in
the palace of David, king of Scotland. Splendid
was the prospect which opened upon him. In a
new and flourishing kingdom just about to take its
place among the nations of Europe, the favourite
of its king, he might have become the first of its
nobles. Aelred's family is said to have been noble,1
though, from the present situation of his father, it
must have been decayed ; and even if he had been
base-born, the earldoms and fiefs of this period were
not so restricted to men of noble blood but that a
poor adventurer might hope to obtain them. It is
true, that in most cases the feudal lord would be
coincident with the patriarchal chief; but in Eng-
land, especially, precedents might be found where
the poor knight became an earl, rich in broad lands
and in vassals.2 Society was forming itself anew,

1 Joscelin. Vita St. Waltheni. ap. Bolland. Aug. 3.

2 Speaking of Henry I.'s favourites, the author of Gesta Stephani
says, quique regno nobiliores gloriam eorum et pompam, segre ferebant,
utpote qui ex imo creati genere se multo nobiliores et divitiis excederent
et dominio superarent. Duchesne. Script. Norm. 932. v. also 966.

93

94 ST. AELRED

and a new nobility was arising in England and
Scotland ; and if Aelred had had the warlike taste
of Henry, his companion, he might have fought his
way to be the head of the Scottish chivalry. But
his gentle and retiring spirit led him to books and
study, and Aelred followed the example of Waltheof,
in preferring his books to tilts and tournaments.
Here, too, if he had but been ambitious, a fine
field lay before him. He was a man of learning
rare in those times. In his boyhood, he had read
Cicero and Terence,1 and those authors quoted by
chance in his works, are but specimens of his acquire-
ments in classical learning. He knew the Latin
Fathers too, and sundry allusions to genus and
species show in him the rising schoolman, to whom
the mysteries of the trivium and quadrivium were
familiar.2 He left school at an early age, but he
still continued his studies at court. He might have
led, if he had pleased, the march of intellect, as it
may be called, in Scotland, and it would have been
hard if a mitre and crosier had not fallen to his
share.3 But never was a soul less ambitious than
Aelred's. From his boyhood, his sole ambition was
concentred in loving and being loved ; his text-book

He also talks of landless nobles, p. 956. As for Scotland, there are
said to have been no earls or barons before Malcolm Canmore's time.

1 De Spirit. Ami. lib. iii. p. 469, ed. Gibbons.

2 Post scholas praeponere relictas. Joscel. Sed proprio sudore et
ingenii subtilis sibi innati exercitio expolitus supra multos literis
saecularibus imbutos. — Ibid. Laurence, Abbot of Westminster, in
the preface to the Life of St. Bridget before quoted, speaks of his
cura literarum in curia regis.

3 Tanto amore a Scotorum Rege complexus est ut ad episcopum eum
promovisset nisi ad Cisterciensem ordinem advolasset. — Vita St. Aelred
ap. Boll.

THE STRUGGLE 95

was Cicero on Friendship, which he read with avidity,
and endeavoured to carry out in real life.1 He read
romances too, for he knew that story which in after-
days he characterised as "a vain tale concerning
one Arthur." 2 The friendship however of David and
Jonathan in Scripture, affected him more than all
the feats of the Round Table, and the love of Queen
Guenever to boot In the legends of Christian
Martyrs, he wept with tears of tenderness over the
devoted friendship of the Christian soldier who saved
the virgin of Antioch out of the place of shame,
and afterwards shared her crown of martyrdom.3
He went about the world seeking for objects on
which to expend his affection, and feeling pained
if his love met with no return. But this was a case
which could not often happen ; for he was too
amiable not to be loved by all the world. He lived
far from his home, and very little is .told of his
family ; his mother's name is not once mentioned,
but this was made up to him by the love of all
about him. He was one of those who, by the
smiling faces which ever meet them, feel sure that
their presence is always welcome.4 In the ban-
queting hall, while the merry jest was going round,
his quick wit and ready speech made him an
acquisition, while from his guileless unaffectedness

1 Cum adhuc puer essem in scholis tota se mea mens dedit effectui
et devovit amori ut mihi nihil dulcius quam amari et amare videretur. —
De Spirit. Ami. Prolog.

2 Spec. Char. 2. 17.

3 De Spirit. Ami. i. p. 435.

4 Erat vir optime morigeratus, facetus, facundus, socialis et jocundus.
Joscelin. Vid. also his account of himself, Spec. Chari. i. 28, where
he seems to point to something of the sort.

96 ST. AELRED

no one felt his inferiority. Indeed, his guilelessness
almost approached to credulity ; and though quick-
witted enough to see into the faults of others, yet
he seemed to have an universal belief in the goodness
of the human heart, which neutralised his cleverness.
His high favour raised him enemies ; but even these
he won over by his meekness. One of the king's
knights, an envious man, hated him for his good
fortune, as he deemed it, and one day his hatred
broke out, even in the king's presence, and he loaded
him with reproachful and insulting words. But
Aelred remained unmoved, and said, " Thou art
right, sir knight, and hast spoken right well ; what
thou sayest is truth, and I see thou art a true friend
of mine." The rude soldier immediately begged his
pardon, and swore that he would do his best to serve
him. " I am glad of thy penitence," said Aelred,
"and I love thee the more because by thy hatred
I have advanced in love to God." This sweet temper
could not fail to bring him friends, and the king
above all loved him. He used to tell him family
stories about the courage of his father, King
Malcolm, and the goodness of his sister Matilda,
the queen of England.1 He gave him the steward-
ship of his household, a high office, which! afterwards
gave its name to the royal family of England and
Scotland, and which, about that time, a clerk, the
favourite and minister of King Louis, held in France.2

1 De Genealog. ap Twysden.

2 St. Aelred is called dapifer regius. In common cases dapifer
means simply the Reeve, but in a king's household it is equivalent to
senescallus. The dapifer of King Louis is called Major domus regise,
or maire^du palais, in the "Chronicle of Morigny, v. Benedictine note to
St. Bernard, Ep. 78, Laurence addresses St. Aelred as dispensator

THE STRUGGLE 97

Happy Aelred ! what had he to do but to lead a
religious and literary life ; he was known far and
wide for his learning, and an abbot of Westminster
dedicated to him a work of his, written " in pure
Latin," as being one who "in a king's court cultivated
letters." It seems that he went out hunting too with
the king ; l at least he is well acquainted " with the
law of hunting, which they call the tryste in vulgar
tongue," where all the nobles, with their hounds,
were posted in different parts of the wood, so as to
surround the quarry ; and he knew well the paths
and recesses of the forest, for he describes a flowery
knoll in the midst of it, where the tired huntsmen
lay down to rest after their toils. At this time it
is probable that he made those acquisitions of
historical lore which afterwards fitted him to become
one of the historians of England. He had inherited
the hereditary love for the royal line of Cedric, and
delighted in the beautiful tales of Alfred and St.
Neot, and the battle of Ashdown. He loved to
trace their genealogy, and he looked forward with
hope to their restoration. If to be loved and
honoured, and to pass a life in congenial studies,
with no enemies, free from great sin, be happiness,
then was Aelred happy ; and men, as he passed,
pointed him out as a man whose lot was to be
envied.

And yet the High Steward of Scotland was not
happy. It would be easy to give the reason for
this phenomenon in a few words. It was the grace

regius, and he himself talks of his having come de coquinis non de
scholis.
1 De Genealog. ap. Twysden. p. 367.

VOL. V. G

98 ST. AELRED

of God, urging him to his place in Christ's kingdom ;
it was the cross casting its shadow on all earthly
joys. This is of course the proper explanation of
it ; but it is through our own feelings and tempers
that God leads us, and it is the part of history to
unfold the human side of events, which appear to
us, and are really, as far as we are concerned, various
and successive ; while, as the work of God, they are
one. What then was the reason of Aelred's un-
happiness amidst all the gifts of nature and of grace ?
The friends about him called it morbid restlessness,
and he tried to believe them and to shake it off;
but it would come back again for all his efforts.
Even his books were tasteless : neither Cicero nor
Horace could satisfy him, and the purest latinity
could not confer happiness ; nay, the philosophy
of St. Augustine and St. Anselm was at fault ; 1
and after he had proved to his satisfaction the being
of a God, after having confuted Manichees and
Nominalists, the same void was in his heart, and he
was still restless. No one could blame his studies ; it
was a noble scheme to reform the taste and arouse
the understanding of a nation arising from bar-
barism ; but it is not enough that a work should be
blameless, if it be not that which the Lord requires
of us. In itself a literary life is of all others the
most empty and unsatisfactory. Things that belong
exclusively to this sublunary sphere are at least in
their place ; they are all of earth, and they gain
the things of earth and men enjoy them as they

1 The sixth chapter of the Spec. Char., lib. i., is evidently taken
from St. Anselm ; and the influence of St. Augustine de Trinitate is
also evident throughout the Speculum.

THE STRUGGLE 99

may. But the student aims higher and fails ; after
he has thought, and judged, and analysed, he has
not extended one jot the sphere of human know-
ledge, because it is human after all. The lowest
angel knows at a glance by intuition what is to us
a laboured fabric of premise and conclusion, and
is at best but the shadow of the truth. After all
that is often said about the blamelessness of literary
pleasures, they do not satiate the hungry soul a
whit the more ; chalk and chaff are not food, because
they are not poison. So learned Aelred by a bitter
experience : but he had still something else to
learn, and that was, that the heart as well as the
understanding can be filled but by one object alone.
It was not wonderful that Aelred found his high
notions of friendship sink under him. Was it
altogether Christian, this craving for being loved,
this insatiable desire of winning human hearts? It
was not admiration or honour that he sought — it
was love ; and is this not only a more subtle form
of inordinate affection ? There was once an Arch-
bishop whom anyone who knows the works of both,
would at once compare with Aelred, like him in his
generous devotedness, and his warm affections, the
favourite of a king's court, the honoured friend of
a king's son. Like Aelred he was of classical taste,
consulted by wits and learned men, a lover of St.
Augustine, a Christian philosopher. Yet all were
nothing to him, rank and honour and wealth ; they
slid away from his mind as from a polished surface,
and had no hold upon it ; but there was one thing
which he wished and obtained, the affection of those
about him. High as was his rank, yet the lowest

ioo ST. AELRED

did not shrink before the stately figure of the Arch-
bishop of Cambray and the Peer of France. He
was dead to all things but one, and that was human
affection. God in his mercy separated him from
the being whom he loved most on earth, the king's
son, who was his friend and his pupil, and thus was
his whole man crucified. How very much of this
resembles Aelred's case, we shall soon see ; but
meanwhile we will quote the words of this saintly
prelate, about this same desire of loving and being
loved, which he himself knew so well.1

" After having renounced all that is around us,
and which is not self, we must come to the last
sacrifice, which is that of all which is in us, and is
self. If a man's temper is full of frankness and
disinterestedness, if his disposition leads him to
take pleasure in doing good, and if he has keen
delicacy of feeling, and a taste for fair dealing and
for disinterested friendship, then let him beware lest
he fall in love with himself; let him guard against
a feeling of complacency in these natural gifts.
Every one must at some time or other have come
across some man apparently all for other people,
nothing for himself, caressed by all the good, one
who gives up his own wishes and is forgetful of
self. This same forgetfulness is so great a virtue
that even self-love would fain imitate it, and puts
its greatest glory in appearing to seek for none.
This self-command and renunciation, which would
be the crucifixion of nature if it were real and
effectual, becomes, on the contrary, the very subtle
and viewless instrument of a pride, which disdains

1 Fenelon, Necessite du renoncement.

THE STRUGGLE 101

all the ordinary methods of rising, and would
trample under foot all the gross subjects of vanity,
which puff up other men. Still it is easy to pull
the mask from this pride, with all its modesty,
though it in no way peeps out as pride, so com-
pletely does it seem to have renounced all that
allures others. If those whom such a man loves,
and assists, do not pay him back with their friend-
ship, esteem, and confidence, he is touched to the
quick. Look at him ; he is not disinterested, how-
ever he strive to appear so. The truth is, he pays
himself not with the base coin that others seek ;
he wants not mawkish praises nor money, nor the
proceeds of place and external dignity. Still he
has his price too ; he thirsts after the esteem of
the good ; he loves that he may be loved, and
that hearts may be touched by his devotedness ;
he only appears to be forgetful of self, that he
may be in the thoughts of all."

Such, or something like this, were the thoughts
of Aelred. He saw that his soul was in danger,
and that he must fly. He bethought himself of
such words as these, "If thy foot offend thee,
cut it off; if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it
out." And before these solemn words, his glowing
thoughts of friendship looked like a dream of
romance. He saw that friendship was a negative
thing, it might be a virtue, or it might be a vice ;
in itself it was neither. It is one of those natural
feelings, which with the whole of man's moral
nature is taken for granted in the Gospel. True
it is that our blessed Lord has ennobled it by His
wonderful condescension in loving St. John, but in

A, ..I. I /? . /

102 ST. AELRED

ennobling it, He has declared that it must be sacri-
ficed, if need be, to God's will. This was the lesson
which Aelred learned ; he recognized that he had
made human affection paramount even to the love
of God, and the thought struck him at once that
he must fly. He turned pale and trembled at it.
Oh ! how comes it that it is always the most loving
who are called upon to sacrifice their love? why
are the tenderest hearts chosen to be torn? why
are they who love father and mother, and brethren
and sisters, and friends, more intensely than others,
ever singled out to stand forth and give them up?
It is one of the miracles of God's grace, bringing
strength out of weakness. But it is never accom-
plished without rending of the heart and agony,
which makes it a spiritual martyrdom. And this
Aelred felt to the full. How many things were in
array against him, keen arguments, tender delicacy,
good feelings, to say nothing of pride and the love
of ease ! Was the High Steward of Scotland to
take his place as the lowest brother in an obscure
convent? the elegant scholar to take to digging?
the trim courtier to put on the coarse monkish
cowl? It was fanaticism to leave the sphere in
which he had been placed, and where he might do
good. It was ingratitude to leave the good King
David, unfeeling to leave Prince Henry, the com-
panion of his youth. Besides which, he had a
friend whom he loved more than life ; he does not
tell us his name, but this was the sorest pain of
all. Nothing but the full conviction that his soul
was in danger where he was, could have enabled
him to break away from so many ties.

THE STRUGGLE 103

And where was he to go, when he once turned
himself on the wide world, and had given up the
royal palace in which he had lived from child-
hood. In those days there could be but one
answer to the question, he could but be a monk.
He might have been a secular priest ; but first of
all, there were the mitre and crosier in the back-
ground, which he dreaded ; and secondly, it would
not have answered his purpose at all, for it would
have left him in the midst of his friends with all
the ties, from which it was his very design to
break away. They knew the cloister and the
world well, who made conversion a synonym for
monastic life. It was a turning to God, heart and
soul, when one who had dwelt in the world, and
partaken of its pleasures, went into the cloister to
learn to have no joy, but God alone.

Besides which, becoming a secular priest was by
no means giving up the world, in the same sense
as entering the cloister. It was not the same
thing, and if Aelred was called by God's grace to
the one, he was not to the other. It should never
be forgotten that the middle-age world was a very
bad one ; it was better than its neighbours, but
alas ! the world is the world in every age. The
twelfth century was not a period of fantastic youth,
like the fifteenth, nor was it the faithless, philo-
sophic, calculating manhood of a period, about
which the less, reader, that you and I say, the
better ; it was rather like boyhood, petulant and
quaint, in its waywardness. Its tournaments were
the rough plays of grown-up boys, ending it might
be, in blood, seldom in ill-will ; its very policy was

104 ST. AELRED

a very inartificial wiliness ; a ready lie, a shutting
of ports against Pope's messengers, are specimens
of it. And the Clergy had their world too, one
which would not have suited Aelred. The cathe-
dral Clergy and the secular canons were in a bad
state ; their rich benefices were spent in procuring
the means of a senseless pomp. They were but
little like ecclesiastics, those painted figures, on
prancing horses, with gilded bits, embroidered
saddles, and spurs plated with silver, while the
rider himself with his flowing locks, invisible ton-
sure, and pelisse of various furs, with purple collar
and fringe, like a woman's dress, remind us of the
courtly abb£ of later times.1 As for ecclesiastics
in general, Henry II.2 would not have had a pre-
text for endeavouring to bring the Clergy into the
secular courts if there had not been among them
many criminals of the worst class ; and the decrees
of councils in those times fully bear out the infer-
ence. The only way to reform such a system was
to create an order of men, founded on an entirely
opposite principle, to oppose voluntary poverty to
riches, chastity to licentiousness, and obedience to
insolence. An individual might indeed stay in the
midst of the evil, and do his best to reform it ;
but this was not enough, system must be opposed
to system. In the monastic system is contained
the remedial system of the church ; and this was
the reason why in the twelfth century, regular
canons so often replaced secular, in cathedral
churches ; why the Premonstrants were founded

1 St. Bern. Ep. i. 2. In Cant, xxxiii. 15.

2 William of Newbridge, ii. 16.

THE STRUGGLE 105

with a direct bearing on the Clergy, and why the
Augustinians were to such an extent reformed.
The seculars indeed had their own work too ;
among them arose almost the only martyr in the
century, and that one was St. Thomas. Still the
monks were the real reformers of the Church.
And this was the reason of St. Bernard's impas-
sioned language, by which he calls upon men to
come into the cloister. It was the voice of one
crying in the wilderness, " Prepare ye the way of
the Lord, make his paths straight ; repent, for the
kingdom of heaven is at hand." This was the
voice which sounded through Aelred's heart, and
would not let him rest. So he did not go to
Durham, where the monks served the stately cathe-
dral, lately built by William of St. Carilefe ; nor
did he go southward to Westminster, the Abbot
of which was his friend, where was the sacred
body of his beloved St. Edward ; but he chose out
an obscure Cistercian monastery, the name of which
was hardly known in the world.

It must have been with a heavy heart that Aelred
bade adieu to Henry,1 "that meek and pious man, of
sweet spirit, and heart full of the milk of human
kindness, him with whom he had lived from his
cradle, his playfellow in boyhood, his companion in
youth ; the good King David too, now an old man,
whom he loved above all men " ; and many years
afterwards the bitterness of that parting remained
fresh in his soul, and he declared that " though he left
them in body in order to serve his Lord, his heart

1 St. Aelred, De Genealog. ap. Twysden, 368.

io6 ST. AELRED

was always with them." It must have been with a
sad heart that he heard for the last time the bells
of the Abbey of Scone, and saw at his feet the
noble Tay winding through a vale, whose steep
sides, clothed with thick woods, opened upon a
plain, where even then rose the towers of the fair
town of Perth, the whole bounded by the blue
outline, and the seamed sides of the Grampians.
With a heavy heart did he quit Dunfermline, and
retrace the still recent steps trodden by St. Margaret,
on her painful way from the shore to the palace, and
which even now after seven centuries of revolutions
and estrangement, are uneffaced from the hearts of
the people. Sadly he must have felt, when he
turned his back on Dunfermline, with its expanse
of sea glancing in the sun before him, and on the
wide-spread plain of Perth, for he was going to a
place where the horizon was very circumscribed.
Even now, we may follow his steps. There is in
the North Riding of York, not far from the borders
of Durham, a nook of surpassing beauty amidst a
perfect labyrinth of vales, formed by ridges of hills,
crossing each other in every direction. The place is
one where three valleys meet, two of them shutting
in a third, which is Rievaux. Along the brow of
the hill which overhangs this vale the traveller
passes, and then goes down the steep side through
hanging woods, from terrace to terrace, till at the
very bottom, from the last ledge of all, he' lights
upon a ruined Abbey. Lovely indeed it is in its
calm decay, rising to a stately height from the bosom
of its smooth, grassy lawn, and most beautiful it
must have been in the days of its magnificence, when

THE STRUGGLE 107

the Abbey burst upon the sight, lying at the bottom
of its deep dell, folded in from the world. Long
before the traveller came upon it as he was winding
down the successive steeps, it announced its presence
by its sweet bells, and great was the joy of the tired
wayfarer when it lay before him with its cloistered
quadrangle, and over the long roof of the refectory
and dormitory rose the lofty Church, with its light
lancet windows towering over all. Beautiful it was
in all the graceful and disciplined animation of
monastic life ; its white monks issuing from its gates
in their hooded riding mantles, to go to some distant
grange, or working all together in a line on the hang-
ing steeps, while the mill was heard, its wheel turning
merrily amidst the splashing waters of the mountain-
stream, which dashed along its pebbly bed at the
bottom of the dell, where it had just joined a sister
stream at the fork where the valleys met. Alas ! it
is very different now; but we will not mourn over
it ; there was a time when it was just as unlike the
stately pile, still noble in its ruins, and that was on
the morning of that day when the Abbey gates
opened and closed on Aelred.

Many things there are in the middle ages, which
look very beautiful at a distance, and were beautiful
in reality, but which required something more than
romance to make them tolerable. The crusades were
a noble conception, but Blanche of Castile fainted
when she saw the cross on St. Louis's shoulder, and
Joinville durst not cast a look at his castle as he
passed it, lest his heart should fail him, and he should
return to his wife and children.

If there had been any portion of fine sentiment in

io8 ST. AELRED

Aelred's retirement to Rievaux,1 it would have dis-
appeared now. Not one stone of the noble edifice,
now in ruins, had then been raised ; not an approach
to triple lancet, or rose window, or shaft with capital
of twisted foliage. A very few years, probably not
more than two, had elapsed, since Walter de Espec
had planted in this place a colony of Cistercians, sent
by St. Bernard from Clairvaux, under William, their
first abbot. Tradition in after times framed a roman-
tic story about the foundation of the noble abbey,
that Walter had brought the white monks from
across the sea to pray for the soul of his son, a high-
spirited boy, who had been thrown from his horse at
the foot of a little stone cross, by the road side, and
had died on the spot. The truth however is, that
Walter had no children, and gave a great part of his
lands to the Church.2 Blackmore was the ominous
name of the place, which the Norman monks changed
to the sweeter name of St. Mary of Rievaux, from the
Rye, a little stream that ran through the valley. It
is said to have been a place that made the soul
shudder, and a vast wilderness, and Aelred himself
in after times called it a very deep dale. It was a
place hard to find, amidst the windings of the many
valleys, and Aelred, after travelling along the high
ridge, plunged down through a path cut in the
tangled wood. Down and still further down, he
went as though he were leaving the cheerful light

1 Rievaux was founded in 1132. There are no data for ascertaining
the precise time when St. Aelred left Scotland. It seems likely
however that he did so before the foundation of the first Cistercian
Monastery in Scotland, which was Melross, in 1136.

2 St. Aelred expressly says so in his History of the War of the
Standard.

THE STRUGGLE 109

of day. The old and gloomy trees seemed to close
about him, and as he approached the bottom of the
valley, the leaves were dripping with the damp mists
which arose from the ill-drained marshy grounds
around the little stream. But when he knocked at
the lowly gate of the abbey, and the brother fell
down at his feet, as was the wont in Cistercian
abbeys, with a " Deo gratias," thanking God for the
new-comer, then Aelred felt as if he had at last found
a resting-place in this weary world. Then William
the abbot, the friend of St. Bernard, welcomed the
young Saxon to St. Mary's house ; and though their
dark features were those of foreigners, and their
language was that of enemies of his race, yet he
felt that he was among brothers. The struggle for
life and death was over, and he had but to go on in
the path which God had assigned to him. And now
that it is over, we will give the description of it in his
own words. It will show how he looked back upon
it, when time had enabled him to think calmly about
it, when he could lay bare his own mind, as St.
Augustine did in his Confessions. " Lo ! my sweet
Lord, once I sought rest in the world for my
wretched soul, but every where I found toil and
groans, grief and affliction of spirit Thou didst cry
out to me, Lord, Thou didst cry out, Thou didst call
me, frighten me and break through my deafness, Thou
didst smite and break down my obstinacy ; Thou
didst bring sweetness to my bitter heart. I heard,
but ah ! later than I ought, Thy voice crying to me ;
for I lay, polluted and rolled in filth, bound, and a
captive, in the nest of iniquity, crushed under the
weight of inveterate habit. Then I bethought my-

no ST. AELRED

self, who I was, where, and of what nature. I
shuddered, Lord, and shrunk in fear, from my own
lineaments; the foul reflection of my wretched soul
frightened me. I was unpleasing to myself, because
Thou wert pleasing. I fain would have fled from
myself, and to Thee, but the merest trifles, as one
has said before me,1 the vanity of vanities, which had
seduced my soul, held me back ; the chains of vile
bodily habit bound me, the love of flesh and blood
held me in bonds, the graces of social life tightened
them ; above all there were the ties of a certain
friendship, sweet to me above all the sweets of life.
And men looking on my smiling outside, and know-
ing nothing of what was going on within, used to say
of me, Oh ! how well is it with him, how well ! they
did not know that all was wrong where alone all
ought to be right. For my wound was deep-seated
within, tormenting, scaring me, and filling all within
me with its intolerable corruption ; and unless Thou
hadst stretched forth Thy hand, who knows if, intoler-
able burden as I was to myself, I might not have
had recourse to the worst remedy of despair ! I began
then to consider as much as one who had no ex-
perience could do, what great sweetness there is in
Thy love, how much peace in that sweetness, how
much security in that peace. By degrees Thou didst
become sweet to my taste, still partially diseased as
it was, and I used to say to myself, O ! that I were
healed ; and I would raise myself up to Thee, but
again I used to fall back upon myself. Still fleshly
pleasures kept me as a man in chains, by a strange
power of habit, though my soul really loved best that
1 St. Aug. Conf. 8, ii.

THE STRUGGLE in

which it could yet only guess at by the power of its
intellect. Often did I say to my friends, where are
now all our pleasures, all our joys, all our delights ?
at this moment how much of them do we feel? all
that is joyful in them is gone ; and all that remains
is that part which stings our conscience, which causes
us to fear death, which binds us to everlasting punish-
ment. Put side by side with all our riches, our
delights, and honours, this one thing which those
who are Christ's, possess, the right not to fear death.
I loathed myself as I spoke this, and sometimes I
wept in the bitter struggle of my soul. I loathed all
that I saw, and still the habit of fleshly pleasure held
me down. But Thou, who hearest the groans of the
captives, who loosest those appointed unto death,
Thou didst burst my chains ; Thou, who bringest
publicans and harlots into Paradise, hast converted
me, the chief of sinners, to Thyself. And lo ! I
breathe again under Thy yoke, I am at rest under
Thy burden, for Thy yoke is easy, and Thy burden
is light."1

1 Spec. Char. i. 28.

CHAPTER IV

THE BATTLE OF THE STANDARD

IT was fortunate for Aelred that he escaped when he
did from the court of Scotland to his quiet home at
Rievaux. A very few years, probably hardly two,
after he had made his profession, a storm gathered in
Scotland, and swept over the north of England, such
as would have effectually destroyed his quiet had he
not already got into shelter. In 1136, Henry I. died,
and then began the stormy reign of Stephen, dis-
astrous for all England, but especially for the north.
In this chapter then will come out the difference
between the world and the cloister. The contrast
is like that picture of the transfiguration, where
Peter, James, and John are seen with the Lord in
the Mount, round the base of which are heard the
howlings of the poor demoniac, torn by the devil,
whom even the Apostles cannot cast out, and ap-
parently deserted even by the Lord. We will try to
look upon this turmoil as Aelred would have done,
nay, as he did, for he himself is the historian, from
which the greater part is taken ; and in the wildest
fits of the storm, we may imagine him looking on
quietly and listening with his head enveloped in his
cowl in the cloister of Rievaux.

Strange was the scene in England as soon as

BATTLE OF THE STANDARD 113

King Henry was dead ; law and justice in those
times depended so much on individuals that the
withdrawal of one man was a signal for general
riot. Henry's power over his nobles was very much
of a personal nature ; he had done what in the
fifteenth century it cost a king of France a rebellion
among his nobles before he could effect ; he had
abridged their rights of chase in favour of the crown.1
It was not an empty privilege, that of vert and
venison in the broad forests of English oak, which
covered the land ; besides the joys of the noisy
chase, there were the huge branches of the oak to
keep up the large fire in the baronial hall, and the
substantial banquet of the boar's head and venison
for the lord and his retainers. Henry had con-
stituted himself protector -general of woods, forests,
deer, wild boars, and game of all sorts.2 Some men
durst not hunt in their own woods, for fear of find-
ing a king's officer at their doors, summoning them
to appear at the chief pleas ; and if Henry's sharp
eye discovered that a wood had been thinned or
wasted, he would impose a fine on the offender.
Hardly was the king dead than a joint attack on
woods and forests took place, and a general onslaught
was made on the large herds of deer, which a long
reign had preserved, " so that hardly two could any
where be seen together." The highway had always
belonged to the king, as well as the forest, and all
offences committed were punished by his officers,

1 v. Michelet. Histoire de France, xiii. 2.

2 Stephen swore when he came to the throne quod neminem de
silvis propriis implacitaret licet venationem in eisdem caperet, sicut
fecerat rex Henricus. Brompton ap. Twysden, p. 1024.

VOL. V. H

114 ST. AELRED

but now the king's peace was broken with impunity,
for there was no king to keep it. Every man preyed
on his neighbour, and made the best of his time,
men wiped off old scores, and revenged themselves
on their enemies ; rapine and violence of all sorts
reigned in England as soon as news came that the
old king was dead. The matter was not much
mended when Stephen, by the perjury of bishops
and barons, was elected to the throne.1 To do him
justice, at the beginning of his reign, he seems
certainly to have done his best to re-establish peace,
but his title to the throne was defective, and when
once the Empress landed, anarchy and confusion
took their own course, and it was said emphatically
that "there was no justice in Stephen's reign." Then
arose a species of men, which feudalism had ever a
tendency to create ; the petty lords, who, from their
dungeon - keeps, ruthlessly wasted and harried the
whole country around them. Our notions of feudal
barons are ever connected with fair castles and trains
of knights, fluttering pennons, and glittering armour.
But the fact is that during the reigns of the first
Norman kings, very few nobles were allowed to have
castles.2 It was from the lack of fortresses that
England fell so soon into the power of the Con-
queror ; and he built castles every where to keep
the country in awe ; but then he kept them in his

1 Gesta Steph. 929.

2 Thus one Turgisius in Stephen's reign, holds a castle, and the
country round, but it is said rex ad conservandum magis quam ad
possidendum commiserat. Gesta Steph. p. 966. Thus of the castle of
Exeter it is said, quod semper regalis juris extiterat. Ibid, 934. The
Bishop of Durham asks leave to have a castle (Anglia Sacra, 723), as
also the Bishops of Salisbury and Ely in Henry the First's time,

BATTLE OF THE STANDARD 115

own hands, and his soldiers were only warders not
possessors. The manor house, and not the castle
was then the characteristic of England ; magnificent
Umbravilles and Bagots must as yet content them-
selves with a low moated house, two storeys high,
with its staircase outside, and only to rise by-and-
bye to the dignity of a castle. But in King Stephen's
time,1 every man did as he pleased, or as he could,
and when the day of reckoning came in Henry's
time it was found that every knightling possessed
not only a castle but a seal, like the king of
England himself. Little do they know of these
iron -hearted men, who picture to themselves a
generous knight-errant, pricking forth in search of
adventures. Alas ! chivalry is but an ideal, a high
and beautiful standard, created by Christianity, but
never realised except in individuals ; for one St.
Louis there were a thousand Bluebeards. The
knight of the twelfth century was not the fantastic
and often licentious champion of later times ; but
in King Stephen's time at least he was often a
needy adventurer, who roamed about the country,
pillaging his neighbours, and looking out for a fief.
Exceptions occur which cheer the weary reader of
history, for instance that young Christian knight,
who, as the beginning of the good deeds to which
his vow of knighthood bound him, sheltered in his
house a whole convent of forlorn monks, whose new-
built monastery had been burnt over their heads.2

1 William of Newbridge, i. 22.

2 Dugdale v. p. 349. Dominus Rogerus de Molbray qui cingulum
militare de novo sumpserat, inter initia bonorum operum suorum
habitationem providit, etc.

u6 ST. AELRED

But generally speaking your knight at the time of
which we are writing was a very suspicious character.
As for the nobles, they were but too often men of
brutal licentiousness, great consumers of beef and
wine, and great oppressors of the poor.1

When such men as these were let loose upon
the world by the license of civil war, it was not
wonderful that the defenceless Church should suffer.
The churches were found to be excellent castles,
ready made, without the trouble of building. Thus
a certain Geoffrey Talbot seized on the cathedral
church of Hereford, expelled the priests, and made
it a garrison for his soldiers ; in the churchyard
fortifications were thrown up, and the dead were
torn from their graves, and their bodies thrown
about, while a military engine was in full play on
the tower, throwing large stones and missiles from
the place " whence," says the chronicler, " the sweet
and peaceful warnings of the bells were wont to be
heard."2 This is but one specimen of what often
occurred ; and it will be easily believed that monas-
teries were not better treated than secular churches.
The Abbeys of Ramsay and Coventry were turned
into fortresses, and the monks expelled ; a nunnery
at Winchester was burnt, and even the holy Abbey
of St. Ethelreda, at Ely, was plundered by these
wicked soldiers.3 No place was safe from them,
and the inmates of every monastery might prepare
themselves each night at compline, for the possibility
of being expelled from their homes before the bell
sounded for matins.

1 Gesta Steph. 946. a Gesta Steph. 948, 958.

3 Matt. Par. p. 79, 80. Gesta Steph. 960, 964.

BATTLE OF THE STANDARD 117

All this took place south of the Tees, but the
north of England was exposed to the inroads of
a terrible enemy, and the ravages inflicted by these
savages must have been more painful to Aelred,
because they were let loose upon England by his
best friend, David, king of Scotland. The friendship
of David for Henry I., and his love for the family of
his mother, and for his niece, the Empress, all induced
him to take her part against Stephen. Her succes-
sion to the throne was looked upon as the restoration
of the line of St. Edward to the English throne.
King David, with all the barons of England, had
sworn to King Henry that he would uphold his
daughter, and he would not perjure himself as the
others had done. Besides which he laid claim to
the earldom of Northumberland for his son Henry.
These motives might be enough to call for his inva-
sion, but still it involved an awful responsibility to
let loose upon the north the savage Picts. David
would have been more like St. Louis had he paused
before he put in motion this uncontrollable power ;
but he was deceived by the Scottish party among
his subjects, who played off his predilection for the
Saxon line to urge him on against the Saxons of the
north of England. But however this was, in the year
1136, not long after Aelred's conversion, news arrived
that the Scottish army was coming over the border.
On came the torrent, the chivalry of the Lowlands
forming its centre, though far out -numbered by the
motley assemblage of half- naked Galwegians, and
men of the Isles. The miseries inflicted by a modern
army, with all its discipline, are horrible enough, and
a feudal army where each man was accounted for,

n8 ST. AELRED

and knew his banner was a scourge wherever it
went ; but all this was nothing to the passage of
a horde of undisciplined savages, most indifferent
Christians at home, and giving loose to every passion
which disgraces human nature abroad. It can only
be paralleled with the miseries inflicted by the mer-
cenary troops of the i6th century,1 when armies
were no longer modelled on the feudal principle, and
before the modern standing army had been intro-
duced. The commissariat of a Pictish host was
doubtless none of the best, and besides this, they
had all the wanton cruelty with which the savage
loves to torture his victim. It would be wrong to
give the sickening detail of their cruelties ; suffice it
say that droves of captive women whom they had
made widows and childless, driven before them with
spears, formed the van of this horrible army. This
mass when once set in motion was beyond the con-
trol of him who had called these uncouth beings out
of their native morasses. Churches were burnt and
pillaged, and monasteries sacked, in one case, which
has happened to remain on record, the poor monks
of Calder, in Copeland, were turned out on the wide
world, with their whole property contained in a
wagon, drawn by eight oxen ; and this was doubt-
less not a singular instance. The only alleviation to
this misery was, that David placed a guard of his
own soldiers over Hexham, and all the miserable
inhabitants who had taken refuge there. He also
gave back into the hands of the Prior of Hexham all
that part of the booty of the wretched country which
had fallen to his share. Hexham was Aelred's old

1 V. Manzoni, Promessi Sposi.

BATTLE OF THE STANDARD 119

home, and this probably crossed David's mind when
he chose it as a place of sanctuary for Northumber-
land. One other softer feature amidst this scene of
horrors is the circumstance that William, Abbot of
Rievaux, was chosen to give into the hands of the
king of Scotland the town of Wark, which belonged
to Walter de Espec, the founder of the monastery.
In his white habit he might venture in safety as a
messenger of peace through the Scottish army ; and
it must have been a strange sight to see the Abbot
at the head of the haggard inhabitants of the town,
who had been reduced by famine to feed on pickled
horse-flesh, issuing from the gates to deliver up the
keys to the conqueror.

The stream of invaders was rapidly moving on
towards Rievaux, when it was stopped by an event
long afterwards celebrated in the annals of border
warfare — the battle of the Standard. Aelred's dearest
friends, David of Scotland and Henry, were engaged
in it, and yet he could not wish them to conquer.
Besides, his affections were divided, for on the other
side was Walter de Espec, the founder of Rievaux,
his new home, and so from the bottom of his deep-
hidden valley he prayed with his brethren for the
success of the English arms ; and when it was over
he became the chronicler of an action which saved
Yorkshire with its churches and monasteries from
desolation. It was a very crusade, this war of the
Standard, for it was apparently a hopeless task to
attempt to stop the progress of the countless swarms
which David had brought out of Scotland. But the
old Archbishop of York implored the nobles and
knights of Yorkshire, for the love of God and His

120 ST. AELRED

Saints, to venture their lives, to save from desolation
the houses of God, and the poor people from all the
horrors which were awaiting them. Aelred becomes
enthusiastic when he describes the dark hair, broad
forehead, and large piercing eyes of Walter de Espec,
and details at length the eloquence of the noble
soldier when he addressed the soldiers from the foot
of the Standard, and promised them victory, in the
name of the Saints and of the Lord. Their standard
was a long pole, on which floated the banner of St.
Cuthbert, and from which was suspended a pix
containing the Body of the Lord ; and under this,
they swore to conquer or die. Aelred describes on
the day of battle, the small compact body of the
English, with their armour glittering in the sun, and
their pennons floating on their lances, while the
priests in their white albs flew from rank to rank to
exhort them. The Bishop of the Orkneys blessed
and absolved them, and the whole army answered
his benediction with a loud Amen. Then the trum-
pets sounded, and with a wild shriek the Galwe-
gians came on, but their countless host was broken
before the serried ranks of the men-at-arms, around
which they closed as the waves dash against the
rock, which is islanded amongst them. They might
at length have broken this little band, but their head-
long valour was rendered useless by the incessant
clouds of arrows discharged from the bows of the York-
shire yeomanry. However at the moment that they
were yielding, the battle was again rendered doubt-
ful, for with the speed of lightning Henry, prince of
Scotland, charged with the chivalry of the Scottish
army ; and here Aelred's love lor the friend of his

BATTLE OF THE STANDARD 121

youth betrays itself, and he almost seems to cheer
them on as they broke through "the lines of the
Southrons as they would sweep aside a cobweb," and
pursued them off the field.1 But still poured on the
steady ceaseless showers of the English arrows, and
when Henry returned from the pursuit he saw the
royal standard, the Dragon, moving off the field in
full flight, and found that he was left almost alone
with a few knights about him. And here again
amidst his joy for the victory which God had given
to the prayers of His church, Aelred pauses to
describe the valour of the friend of his youth, how
prince Henry, seeing himself left with a few knights
about him, turned with a smile to his companions,
bade them mingle in the pursuit, as though they were
on the English side, and setting spurs to his horse,
rode right through the enemy to rejoin his father.
This battle freed the north of England from this
horrid scourge, and it must be said for David, that
when afterwards Northumberland and Durham were
ceded to him, the north was resting in peace, while
the south was still suffering all the misery of civil
war.2

1 De Bello Stand. Twysden, 345.

2 William of Newbridge, i. 22.

CHAPTER V

THE CISTERCIAN NOVICE

SUCH was the world outside the walls of Rievaux,
during the few years after Aelred first became a
monk, and such the world in which he must from
his connection with the court of Scotland have
mingled, had he not taken timely refuge in his
monastery. Strangely different indeed was his new
mode of life from that which he led in the palace
of Scone or of Dunfermline. Certainly the good
monks of Citeaux showed no anxiety to sweeten
the harshness of the rule for their novices. For
four days the new-comer was kept like a stranger
in the hospice, and no one took notice of him
after his first interview with the Abbot ; and then
he was introduced into the chapter, where he
prostrated himself on the ground before the Abbot,
and was saluted by him with an abrupt, "What
wouldest thou ? " Then was detailed to him the
rule in all its rigour, and if he persisted in asking
for admission, the Abbot said aloud, " God who
hath begun in thee, bring it to the end " : then all
the convent answered Amen. Still the candidate
was led back to the house of the guests, and the
same ceremony was repeated in the chapter for
three days, and on the third only was he admitted

THE CISTERCIAN NOVICE 123

into the number of the novices. Then his secular
dress, the soft clothing of the king's house, was
taken off him, with the words, " The Lord put off
thee the old man with his works." And then the
novice's dress was put upon him ; it had not even
the dignity of the cuculla and scapular of the full-
grown monks ; it was a short tunic with sleeves,
and a white cloak with a cowl.1 If a nobleman
were suddenly to find himself arrayed in the dress
of a workhouse, the change could not be more
complete. But the Abbot as he put it on the
novice said, " The Lord put upon thee the new man,
who after God is created in righteousness and true
holiness." This reconciled Aelred to the change,
for in these words were contained the whole of
monastic life, and of this all its outward forms
were but symbols. Death to nature and life to
God, and the carrying out of the vows of baptism,
was the moral of the whole. Without this, fast
and vigil, rough labour in the fields or beautiful
ritual, with vestment of black, brown, white, or
grey, were but quaint devices of fantastic devotion,
and " friar's trumpery." Alas ! there have been
worldly and ambitious hearts, beating beneath the
monk's habit, for no outward forms can keep the
soul against its will ; but Rievaux was not at all
a likely place to harbour such monks. And at
all events Aelred, with whom alone we are con-
cerned, looked upon himself as assuming the cross
for a life-long crusade against the world, the flesh,
and the devil.

" Let the novice begin and leave off labour, read

1 Norn. Cist. 2 1 8. Rituale Cist. vi. I.

124 ST. AELRED

and go to bed, with the monks ; let him eat the
same food, and be clad with the same stuff," says
the rule. We therefore know at once what Aelred
was about ; he plunged without delay into Cister-
cian discipline ; and an exceeding trial it must
have been. To any one brought up in a king's
palace, the details of husbandry must have been
inexpressibly irksome ; and not only must the
novice dig, but he must dig well, for the liveli-
hood of the monks depends on their own exertions.
The delicate and jewelled fingers, accustomed only
to turning over the leaves of illuminated manu-
scripts, must have been sorely galled with the
spade and the fork. This, however, together with
the whole discipline of fasts and vigils, he must
have expected before he came ; the man who has
fled for his life to the wilderness must not expect
to find its wild and sour fruits like the summer-
fruit in a king's garden ; thorns and briers grow
in the desert ; we must look elsewhere for lilies
and roses. But one thing there was from which
human nature recoils most of all : he was not at
all treated as the late High Steward of Scotland,
one who had made a great present to religion by
his change. He was only brother Aelred, the
lowest of the novices, because the last comer, last
in every thing, except in processions, where, with
his short tunic and sleeveless cloak, and his flowing
locks, he preceded the long line of shaven crowns
and scapulars, because the lowest walked first. It
is a hard thing for one who has been considered
rather as teacher than learner all his life, to find
himself, when grown up, at the feet of others;

THE CISTERCIAN NOVICE 125

and the years between twenty and thirty are not
always the period when men are most docile. The
cell of the novices was a portion of the monastery
adjoining the cloister, and here they were trained
by the master of the novices, an officer who was
to teach them to know the Psalter by heart, and
to train them in monastic discipline. Aelred could
doubtless have instructed this officer in Cicero and
in writing Latin, but he submitted to him with
the docility of a child, for he knew well that the
science of spiritual things required no learning
or intellectual power.

When he had a little recovered from his be-
wilderment at the novelty of his situation, and
found leisure to look about him, he was struck
with the wonderful peace of this little cloister-
world, the noiseless gliding motion of the brethren,
as they bent their heads in silence when they
passed each other in the cloisters, and the strange
way in which one soul seemed to actuate this vast
body. And this was what first struck our novice ;
it was good hard work in which they were en-
gaged, and yet "with such a placid unruffled
countenance, with such a holy noiseless order, did
they do all things, that scarce did they seem to
move at all."1 And then their mysterious pre-
ternatural silence had something awful about it ;
for it was very unlike a dogged or sullen silence,
and this was evident from the bright beaming
countenances of the brethren, and the ready cheer-
fulness in which they helped one another in their
respective works. No man seemed to have a will

1 Ep. Petri de Roya at the end of St. Bernard's Letters, ed. Ben.

126 ST. AELRED

of his own ; and Aelred thought that he had seen
at last the realisation of his dreams of friendship.
At first, amongst such a number all seemed to
him very much alike ; all had the same white
habit, and even the same cast of countenance ;
just as in a foreign country, till the eye gets
accustomed to the type of the new race, all seem
equally dark or equally fair, without much differ-
ence. By degrees however he learned to distin-
guish between the countenances about him, and
one in particular struck him. It was the face of
a man, much younger than those of equal rank
in the monastery with himself, which showed that
he must have been hardly more than a child when
he took the vow. The grave sweetness of his face,
and the depth of the recollection and silence of
the young monk struck Aelred ; and he learned
(probably from the master of the novices, whose
business it was at times to converse with his
charge), that the monk's name was Simon, and
that his conversion was a miracle of God's grace.
As a mere boy, God had called him away from
his kindred and his home, to serve Him as a
monk. What the circumstances were are not
known ; probably Aelred did not know them him-
self; he only knew that Simon was of noble blood,
and had left his father's house. Men wondered
what could attract him in monastic life at that
early age ; " but He knew, says Aelred,1 who was
leading thee on, who had set on fire thy yet
tender heart with the flame of His love, and thou
didst run after the odour of His ointments.2 He

1 Spec. Char. i. 34. 2 Song of Solomon, i. 3.

THE CISTERCIAN NOVICE 127

went before thee, beautiful in form above the sons
of men, anointed with the oil of gladness above
His fellows, and thou didst run after the odour of
His ointments. He went before thee, that One
who was lowly in spirit, over the steeps and over
the mountains, sprinkling thy path with the frag-
rance of myrrh and frankincense, and thou didst
run after the odour of His ointments. Before thee
a Child went, the Child Jesus, showing thee the
manger of His poverty, the couch of His lowliness,
the chamber of His love, filled with the flowers
of His grace, and sprinkled with the unguent of
His consolation, and thou didst run after the
odour of His ointments." Such was Aelred's way
of accounting for the strange fact that a place like
Rievaux possessed attractions for such a child ;
and now in the beginning of his novitiate, he
found it of use to look upon this monk, who was
utterly unconscious of the admiration which he was
exciting. When his eyes and his thoughts wandered
in the choir, one glance at the modest face of
Simon chaunting devoutly with his eyes fixed on
the ground was enough to recall him to himself.
There was no danger in this mute veneration and
love, for Cistercian strictness forbade his addressing
Simon, and it was of use to him to choose this
youthful monk for his model. "The rule of the
order," says he, "forbade our speaking, but his
countenance spoke to me, his gait spoke, and his
very silence spoke. The sight of his humility beat
down my pride, this contemplation of his calm-
ness repressed my restless spirit."

After a year of probation, novices were admitted

128 ST. AELRED

to make their profession : this was the real farewell
to the world, where was made the vow of obedience,
of stability, and of conversion of life according to
the rule of St. Benedict. For a year before, the
novice had counted the cost, and now he felt sure
that by God's grace he could keep what it was
beyond the strength of the natural man to do. It
was with a chastened and a holy joy that Aelred
now bent before the Abbot to receive his benedic-
tion as a monk. And well he might rejoice, for
to him had been given a grace, which but very few
could possess. The world must go on, bad as it
is, till it please God to destroy it, and in its miser-
able service must toil on even the good till its end.
But Aelred, God had called out of the world, and
had made it lawful for him to quit the distractions
of the painful scene, and to serve Him not indirectly
through actions in themselves indifferent, but like
the angels with perpetual acts of prayer and praise.
The whole was the act of God's grace, and therefore
the hymn for Whitsuntide, Veni Creator Spiritus,
was then always sung by the convent, and the
beautiful ritual everywhere prays to the Holy Spirit,
who alone with the Father and Son is the Giver of
all grace, and without whom nothing is strong and
holy. And then after the long hair which the
novice had till that moment kept, as he would
wear it in the world, had been cut off his head by
the Abbot, and he was dressed in the regular mon-
astic garment, he went round the convent and
humbled himself at the feet of each of his brethren.
After which the Te Deum was entoned, and whilst
it was sung, the newly - made monk knelt behind

THE CISTERCIAN NOVICE 129

the Abbot, his hands crossed on his breast within
the sleeves of his habit. From this time forth
he took his place in the choir with the other
monks.

Henceforth, even during the stormy time which
we described in the last chapter, so peaceful was
the tenor of his life, that hardly anything is known
of Aelred, but all that remains of him is of the
same cast as has gone before. He is still the same
gentle, loving Aelred, under the white habit, as
he had been in the world. When he sat in the
Abbey garden, as he says himself, his chief delight
was to look about him, and think that each of the
mute white figures, walking among the trees, was
a brother, and to wonder how it was possible that
so many men of different countries, tempers and
ages, could dwell together in such perfect peace.
If they did not talk, they had no chance of quarrel-
ling, is doubtless a ready answer ; and yet Aelred
was right, it was a phenomenon. Men will manage
to quarrel, if they have a mind ; and besides, monks
and nuns did find ample opportunities of discord,
whenever it suited them ; and it was this quarrel-
someness, and not other sins more commonly
ascribed to them, which was the besetting sin of
convents. Cluny had been not long before split
into parties under Abbot Pontius ; and even Cister-
cians, alas ! in after times must needs call in the
judgments of popes and legates to settle their
internal dissensions. It is evident that monks
when they lose the spirit of their order must be
quarrelsome. The very object of Monasticism is
to give a proper outlet to devotional feelings, which

VOL. V. I

130 ST. AELRED

are stifled in the world, because it would be fanatical
to indulge them ; it must therefore be made up to
a great extent of external actions. To throw
oneself at the feet of another, and call oneself a
miserable sinner, in a convent is a part of the rule.
But when such actions are done by cold-hearted or
discontented men, they become technical and formal ;
and punctilious persons are ever most disposed to
quarrel. Besides, there might be proud brethren
even amidst the austerities of Citeaux ; and let
any one consider the heart-burnings of an ambitious
monk, when brother so - and - so was made Prior
or Sub - prior over his head, or was sent on a
mission, or allowed to accompany the Abbot to
the general chapter ; it was enough to sour a
whole convent. Again, it is not quite true that
monks never spoke to each other. A perfect
silence is enjoined by the rule at certain times ;
especially from compline to prime next morning,
at refection, in church and in the cloister, not a
word was spoken under severe penalties ; but this
implies that there was a less strict silence at other
times. When at work, monks might speak to
each other, if it was necessary for what they were
about. An awkward monk might be reproved by
his fellow, or they might differ in opinion, and
any one who has tried, may know how hard it is
to yield simply for the sake of peace. Aelred
therefore was perfectly right in wondering how a
large convent of three hundred monks, for such
was the number of the brethren of Rievaux, could
hold on its even course without bickerings and
quarrels! Sometimes Aelred had a specimen of

THE CISTERCIAN NOVICE 131

a slight fit of ill-temper, just to assure him that
such things were possible ; 1 but if monks would
be cross, they had also their own way of smoothing
crossness down. One day, he spoke a word which
offended one of the brethren, and at once he fell
at his feet to beg his pardon, and waited there
till the monk raised him up. And this seems to
have been the established conventual method of
settling a dispute.2

Besides which, it appears that license was some-
times given by Abbots to certain of the brethren
to converse together ; 3 and in this way Aelred at
length was allowed to speak to Simon, the young
monk, whom he had from the first proposed as his
model. It is curious that the Cistercians do not
seem to have been so jealous of particular friend-
ships in their communities as were other orders.
It was a first principle in monastic life that each
individual should devote himself body and mind to
the service of his brethren. The monastic system
was an expansion of the love of the domestic circle
upon a large community ; it was a supernatural
home raised by Christianity out of man's natural
affections, an expansion of the narrowed sphere of
usefulness allowed to most men in the world. It
was necessary then that all within that circle should
share this love alike. In a large family, if not
carefully brought up, the eldest often know little
of the youngest ; they naturally form into knots,
and the petty factions quarrel with each other.

1 De Spir. Ami. ii. 453. 2 Spec. Char. i. 29.

8 See note to Life of St. Stephen, p. 140 ; to which add Spec. Char,
iii. 40.

132 ST. AELRED

And so it would be in a monastery, which is only
a very large family, if the father Abbot was not
watchful to prevent an evil, which every careful
mother would banish from her home. Thus, if
brother Ambrose and brother Benedict were to
swear a deathless friendship, and to put their black
cowls together in recreation-time, and never talk
to anyone else, the other brethren might well
think themselves aggrieved. And if the same
brethren were to proceed also to sit together in
cloister, and to nod and wink, when they could
not talk, if they were discontented and cross when
the Prior set them to work in different parts of the
grounds of the monastery, then the father Abbot
would have just cause for punishing the refractory
brethren. Human love, if not submitted to rules,
is a wayward, fantastic, moonstruck thing, flitting
from object to object, and never satisfied ; or if
fixed upon one in a wrong way, overleaping the
bounds of law, human and divine. It is like an
organ, of which every fool may pull out the
trumpet stop, and bring forth a volume of wild
discordant sounds ; but which, when played by
rule, discourses most healthful music. Now in a
Cistercian monastery, at least at the period when
Aelred entered Rievaux, this same unmanageable
element was subjected to such stringent rules that
there was little danger of its doing mischief. When
there was no regular recreation - time, and where
the brethren never conversed but by license from
the father Abbot, and those licenses were few and
far between, there was no danger that the spirit
of exclusiveness should creep into a convent, for

THE CISTERCIAN NOVICE 133

the brethren could not possibly form cabals amongst
themselves. No ambitious monk could form a party
and intrigue to be elected Abbot ; no harm could
come to monastic discipline by heart-burnings and
jealousies, breaking out at length into open rebellion,
from being long brooded over, when the cowl was
drawn over the head, and none could see the
workings of the discontented heart upon the face.
Aelred could therefore love Simon without fixing
his heart upon him with a merely natural friend-
ship. In the painful struggle with himself, before
he quitted the world, his affections had been cruci-
fied, and they could now revive and flourish again
in the cloister. The period of his internal struggles
was a long and cheerless winter, during which his
heart was " like a tree withered down to its roots.
But now that this winter was past, and that all
was dead that God would have had die, then came
the happy springtide and all revived." That took
place in him which we will describe in the words
of our old friend the Archbishop of Cambray, for
we are not skilled in spiritual matters ourselves.
" God then gives back friendship with all his other
gifts an hundred-fold. Then revive all the old
loves for true friends. A man no longer loves
them in himself, and for himself, but in God, and
for God, and that with a love, lively, tender, full
of sweetness and of feeling, for God can easily
purify feeling. It is not feeling but self-love which
corrupts friendship." So Aelred gave himself up
without scruple to his holy friendship, for it was
God, who by the order of His Providence, bound
them together, and inspired them with His

134 ST. AELRED

love ; and it was Him whom they loved in each
other.1

Aelred's talents and his loving disposition did not
escape the penetrating eye of Abbot William. The
friend of St. Bernard could not but love one whom
posterity, by a sort of unconscious judgment, has
called " a second Bernard " ; so he made him the
master of the novices. Next to the Abbot this was
the most important officer in the convent. His
business, as has been said before, was to train the
novices in monastic discipline, that is, not to teach
them to chant Gregorian tones, to march in pro-
cession, no, nor even to fast, and to rise in the
night to sing psalms. All these were but means to
an end ; his business was to form a character in
them. The method of forming a Christian character
has now been almost reduced to a science, for the
ways of God in His dealings with the souls of His
elect, have so much uniformity, with all their variety,
that a science of spiritual life has been framed out
of the reflections of holy men on their own experi-
ence. This science has now spread far and wide,
and forms a regular portion of clerical education in
most parts of Christendom ; but in Aelred's time it
was almost confined to the cloister. Very little had
been written on the subject till St. Bernard's time,
for in early times these Christian writers had been
so occupied with the great object of faith itself, that
they had comparatively little analysed the dealings
of God's grace with the Christian soul. The cloister
then was a sort of traditionary system of ascetic
discipline, and this was what the Cistercians had

1 Fenelon, Utilite des peines et des delaissements, 23.

THE CISTERCIAN NOVICE 135

revived through the influence of St. Bernard. Aelred's
duty was thoroughly to learn the character of the
novice, to support him in heaviness of spirits, to
temper his enthusiasm, to judge of his vocation, and
if he saw that God had called him to that state of
life, to present him at the end of his year of pro-
bation to the Abbot. The whole of Aelred's teaching
consisted in patience and resignation to the will of
God. When first the young novice came into the
monastery full of fervour, he was delighted and edified
with all he saw. Even the rough bed and coarse
food, and the bell bidding him start up when his
sleep was sweetest, were all but child's play to him ;
the awful silence did not frighten him, and though
he could but speak to three men, the Abbot, the
prior, and the master, all seemed natural and easy
to him.1 Everything struck him with admiration,
but above all, the wonderful concord of the brethren.
"Such unity is there among the brethren," said a
wondering novice to Aelred, " that each thing belongs
to all, and all things to each. And what marvellously
pleases me, there is no acceptation of persons, no
account of high birth. How wonderful is it too that
the will of one man should be the law to about
three hundred men, so that what once he has spoken,
is kept by all, as if they had come to precisely that
determination themselves, or had heard it from the
mouth of God Himself." This was the first stage
of feeling in the novices, and the prudent master of
the novices was obliged with a smile to tell him,2

1 Tribus solum hominibus et hoc rarissime et vix de necessariis
loquimur. Spec. Char. lib. ii. 17.

2 Spec. Char. Ibid.

136 ST. AELRED

" I would have thee be cautious, and not suppose
that any profession upon earth is without its hypo-
crites, lest if thou shouldest see any one transgress
in word or deed, thou shouldest disturb thyself, as
though something strange had happened to thee."
And to this first ecstatic stage of wonderment suc-
ceeded generally a great calm, when the soul was
conscious of no feeling at all, when there was no
sensible pleasure in prayer, no tears in contemplating
the Passion, or ecstacy in thinking on the love of
God. And then the poor novice wondered why he
did not feel now that he was in religion, the same
sensible joys that he used to feel when in the world.
Then Aelred would tell him that the love of God
did not consist in sensible joys, but in the junction
of the will to the will of God, in the surrender of
the human will so that it consents to wish for nothing
but because God wills it. " Pure love is in the will
alone, so that it is not a love of feeling, for the
imagination has no part in it ; it is a love which
loves without feeling, as pure faith believes without
seeing." l He told him that it was a greater sacrifice
thus to offer up the will to God, and to remain
quietly as long as He would in this want of feeling,
than to fast and afflict the body with austerities, and
that nothing was so agreeable to God as to remain
thus crucified, not seeking for consolation till it was
His will to give it. " These sensible consolations
were given at the beginning of thy repentance," he
would say to the novice, " to draw thee on to Christ ;
but what wonder if, now their work is done, they
are taken away? now is the time for warfare, not

1 Fenelon sur la secheresse et les distractions, 26.

THE CISTERCIAN NOVICE 137

for rest, but by-and-bye, it may be that the Lord
will restore these sensible affections, and thus that
devout feeling, which at first roused thee, to save
thee from perishing, will console thee in thy labour,
lest thou sink under it, till after many victories, the
pains by which thou art, now in thy novitiate,
harassed, will be entirely lulled, and then, like a
soldier, whose warfare is done, thou wilt taste the
sweets of repose, and be admitted to that consolation
of which the Prophet speaks, * How great is Thy
sweetness, O Lord, which Thou hast laid up for
them that fear Thee.' " l

This is a specimen which has reached us of
Aelred's teaching as master of the novices. Doubt-
less he had many more unpromising novices to deal
with than that one whom he has here recorded.
Doubtless he had the presumptuous novice, who
thought nothing too high for him, who must needs
think the order not half strict enough, and would
separate himself from his brethren by fasting and
watching when the others did not.2 To this one
he would say that strict obedience was the first
condition of being a monk at all. Sometimes how-
ever he had still more refractory subjects to deal
with, and a story remains, which, though it does
not rest on very good authority, yet shows the sort
of character which tradition assigned to Aelred.
There was a clerk, says the legend, who, when he
had been a short time at Rievaux, began to grow
tired of the strictness and monotony of the place,
and determined to run away and go back to the
world. Aelred, however, loved him and begged of

1 Spec. Char. lib. ii. 19. 2 St. Bern. Serm. in Cant. 19.

138 ST. AELRED

God to give him this soul. So the poor novice
came to him, and frankly said, that he was going
to run away, but Aelred coolly replied, " Brother,
ruin not thyself; nevertheless thou canst not if thou
wouldest." Still the man would not listen to reason,
and went away from the monastery. He plunged into
the woods, and wandered about among the moun-
tain paths from valley to valley, thinking all the
while that he was going very far from the Abbey.
About sunset, however, he was surprised to find
himself close to a convent, which looked marvellously
like the Abbey of Rievaux, and sure enough so it
was ; he had been wandering round and round it
all day, and at evening he found himself precisely
where he had started. It had been hidden from
him by the thick woods about it. This circumstance
struck him as so wonderful that he could only see
the hand of God in it. So he entered again the
monastery which he had quitted, he thought for
ever, in the morning. The first person whom he
saw was Aelred, who fell on his neck and bursting
into tears, kissed him, and said, " Son, why hast thou
done so to me ? Lo ! I have wept for thee with
many tears ; and I trust in God that as I have asked
of the Lord, and as I told thee, thou shalt not
perish."

CHAPTER VI

THE SPIRIT OF CITEAUX

AELRED, however, soon had other employment as-
signed him ; he was compelled by his Abbot to
turn author.1 It appears that certain monks of
other orders censured the Cistercians as being dry,
formal, unspiritual men ; devotion they thought
was incompatible with so much affliction of the
body, hard beds, coarse food and manual labour.
Theirs was a more smiling religion, which had all
the arts at her command, painting, sculpture, and
music ; and why should the Cistercians be more
strict than their neighbours ? Now this accusa-
tion could hardly be made in France, where St.
Bernard was taken as a type of the Cistercians,
for dry and formal were the very last epithets
that could be applied to him. No one could read
a line of his writings without feeling their unction
and sweetness.2 As for his decisions in casuistry
some might have called him lax, so fully does he
hold that a really conscientious intention supplies
material defects. None could therefore with any
face accuse the French Cistercians of an unspiritual

1 V. Ep. cujusdam prefixed to the Speculum, and Spec. Char,
lib. ii. 5.

3 V. Ep. 69, 603.

J39

I4o ST. AELRED

harshness. In England, the new order wanted some
one to be its type in the same way, and Aelred
was chosen as being the very man to set it forth.1
Much did he pray to be excused ; he said that he
was ill educated, had left school early, and had
come straight from a king's kitchen to the desert,
where, like a common peasant, he worked for his
daily bread among rocks and mountains with the
axe and the mallet, by the sweat of his brow.
Nothing however would do, the Abbot only chid
his tardiness in obedience, and said that his steward-
ship in a king's kitchen was only an anticipation
of the time when he was to be a steward of spiritual
food to his brethren ; and as for rocks and moun-
tains, there might come honey from the stony
rock, and more was to be learnt under the shade
of the trees at midday in the woods about Rievaux
than in the schools of worldly philosophy. So
write a book he must. It was to be called the
Mirror of Charity, in which the form of Christian
love was to be reflected as in a glass. Hugh, the
Prior, had often heard him talk on such subjects,
and knew that he was the very man. So Aelred
was deputed to write, and a remarkable book it is,
considering the time at which it was brought out,
while the Scotch were at the gates of Rievaux,
during a civil war, in which an empress lost and
won a throne, and a king was in prison. When
all the world was in arms, bishops and all ; when
monasteries were in flames, and cathedrals were
turned into castles, this monk was sitting quietly
in his cloister, writing on the love of God.

1 V. Ep. cujusdam.

THE SPIRIT OF CITEAUX 141

It was a perfect reflection of the Cistercian spirit
this Mirror of Charity, and a good comment upon
its code of laws, the Chart of Charity. The aim
of the Cistercian reform was to introduce a more
spiritual religion into the cloister. Monks had begun
to expend their religious feelings in the externals
of devotion. The eleventh century had been a time
of deadly struggle with the powers of the world ;
its great men were men of action like St. Gregory,
and its good monks were half hermits, like St.
Peter Damian. It was a time of travail and of
labour, for the old world was gone, and the new
middle-age world was in process of formation. Men
were just recovering from the wild fright into which
the close of the first thousand years of the Christian
era had thrown them ; their panic had broken
out in frantic gestures, so that men and women
danced l hand in hand over the graves in the church-
yard like the dances of death in the fifteenth cen-
tury. And after their recovery they took to building
churches, it was the first sign of revival, the fashion-
able religion, so to speak, of the day. Men and
women formed themselves into companies, and
marched together to the building of a new church,
with banners carried before them. Knights and
nobles yoked themselves to carts to carry stones
to the new edifice. The utmost splendour of
worship of course was the natural consequence of
the erection of these splendid edifices, for lofty naves
and beautiful choirs were not built to be left in
nakedness like vast sepulchres. Images of saints
and angels, in all the warmth of colour and gilding,
1 Fordun, vii. 26.

142 ST. AELRED

peopled them on high,1 and the long train of splendid
vestments moved in glittering order amongst the
worshippers. This was all as it should be in secular
churches, nay, it was well even in monasteries if this
graceful and glowing external life of religion was
not too busy for the interior and hidden life of
the soul. The two schools need not have clashed,
but that they did so is certain, for these ancient
monasteries found fault with the new school, which
arose amongst them on the grounds that, there was
a real opposition between an austere life and spirit-
ual joy, and that a splendid external religion was
essential to internal devotion. They were perhaps
conscious that it was so in themselves, and so they
attacked their younger brethren, telling them that
joyousness and love were essential to religion, and
were incompatible with the great austerities which
they practised.

Aelred's Mirror of Charity therefore is intended
to reflect an image of the love of God, the con-
ception of which had been so strangely disfigured.
"The love of God," he says, "is the Holy Spirit
within us." Considered as a habit in our souls, it
is a perfect union of our will with that of God,
so that we wish for nothing but what He wishes.
It is not feeling, it is not intellect, it is not joy,
it is not reasoning ; it is this ineffable union with
God, who is not an idea, but a real living God,
the source of all joy and all intellect. As man
however has fallen, this love must be raised out
of the death of nature, and this was the reason
of the Cistercian austerities ; they were means to
1 Quo sanctior eo coloratior St. Bern. Apol. ad Gull.

THE SPIRIT OF CITEAUX 143

an end, to set up the cross of Christ within the
soul, and they were useful as far as they procured
the perfect resignation of the will. And how can
this be effected, asks the Cistercian, where all things
tend to dissipate the mind and expend its energies
on external things, when in the cloister are found
picturesque animals to amuse the eyes of the
brethren ; quails and curious birds, tame hares
gambolling about, and stags browsing under the
trees.1 There is the same dissipation when the
walls of monastic churches are covered with paint-
ings of men and horses fighting, and pagan stories
taken from classic history, when the pavement is
of marble, covered with rich carpets, and the
worship is carried on with a glare of wax lights,
amid the glitter of gold and silver vessels ; or
when again, instead of the grave and masculine
Gregorian chants, languid and effeminate music was
used, or else the loud organ imitated the crash
of thunder to the wonder of the gaping crowd
below. " Meanwhile," says Aelred, " the crowd
stands trembling and astonished, wondering at the
sound of the bellows, the clash of cymbals, the
harmony of pipes, yet when they look at the
contortions of the singers and their imitation of
female voices, they cannot help laughing. You
would fancy that they had come not to an
oratory, but to a theatre, not to pray, but to a
spectacle. They fear not that tremendous majesty
near which they are brought, they have no rever-
ence for that mystic manger, at which they are
ministering, where Christ is mystically wrapt in

1 Spec. Char. ii. 23, 24.

144 ST. AELRED

swaddling - clothes, where His most sacred blood
is poured in the chalice, where the heavens are
opened, and angels are standing near, where
earthly things are joined with heavenly, and men
are the companions of angels."

The love of God consists not in these external
things ; it does not consist even in the joys of the
interior life, but in the conformity of the soul with
the passion of Christ, in the crucifixion of the whole
man. The soul must patiently wait upon Him, not
forcing itself to feel joy and sorrow, but resting in
faith upon God, ready to be filled with His joys, when
He wills, and willing to remain in spiritual dryness
as long as He wills. "Nevertheless," says Aelred,1
" who so presumptuous as to affirm that communion
with the passion of Christ is incompatible with His
Spirit, and lessens the grace of spiritual sweetness.
He is joined to Christ's passion, who bows himself
beneath the discipline of the cloister, and mortifies
his flesh by fasts, labour, and watchings, who submits
his will to another's judgment," and who, when tried
by internal temptations, which are more severe than
any corporal mortifications, commits himself into the
hands of the Lord to suffer what He wills. He must
not be ever looking out for miracles to prove his
acceptance as was the case with many in those days,
he must wait quietly for consolation from on high.2

3 " But when the soul is in this state, beset with
fear, harassed with grief, cast down by despair, swal-
lowed up by sadness, grieved by spiritual sluggish-
ness, there will come down upon it a drop of

1 Spec. Char. ii. 6. 2 Spec. Char. ii. 24.

3 Spec. Char. ii. 12,

THE SPIRIT OF CITEAUX 145

wondrous sweetness, from the unguent of that copious
mountain, that high-raised mountain : noiselessly and
peacefully it drops down upon the soul. At the
brightness of its radiant light, all that cloud of
irrational feelings melts away ; before its sweet taste,
all bitterness disappears, the heart expands, the
hungry soul is fed, and it feels within it a strange
upward power, which seems to bear it on high. Thus
by fear sloth is kept away ; and by the taste of
heavenly sweetness, fear is tempered. Lest the soul
should be content to remain in a low and sluggish
state, fear rouses it ; but if it faints in its labours, it
is sustained by its feeling. By these alternations it
is continually schooled, till the whole soul, absorbed
by that ineffable love, burning for the long-desired
embrace of Him who is fairer than the children of
men, begins to wish to be dissolved and to be with
Christ.1 But know well that, if ever the mercy of
Thy Creator pour upon thee a single drop of His
sweetness, it depends not on thy will, when it should
come to thee, nor in what way, nor how much thou
canst keep of it. When thou hast tasted this spiritual
sweetness, be not straightway sunk down -in sloth, for
soon there will rise up by thy side a "spiritual enemy,
and he is not to be conquered by sloth, but by
prayers. Then after numberless contests, thou shalt
be taken on high to receive thy reward, and thy soul
will enter into the glory of God, where thou wilt be
fed with the fruit of the promises. The fire of
heavenly love will burn up the yoke of earthly con-
cupiscence, and thou shalt rest in the brightness of
wisdom, in the sweetness of heavenly contemplation,

^pec. Char. ii. 15.
VOL. V. K

146 ST. AELRED

and know of a truth that the yoke of the Lord is
sweet and His burden light."

Such was Aelred's doctrine, and he had soon need
enough of resignation to the will of God, for while he
was engaged in writing this work, his friend Simon
died. So full is he of his grief that he quits his sub-
ject, and pours his heart out in expressions of grief.
His mirror of charity-is a home-book ; it was meant
for the cloister, and for brethren to read. In one
place he tells us that he had offended one of the
brethren in the morning, and how the thought of it
grieved him. And now that he had lost his friend, it
seems to have been a relief to him to put all his
thoughts on paper. For eight years Simon had been
suffering from ill-health ; and for a whole year, fore-
seeing that his end was approaching, he had with-
drawn within himself, and seemed forgetful of all
external things, "even of me," says Aelred. It
appears that he had been sent away from Rievaux,
probably for his health, and Aelred was not with him
when he died. His body, however, was brought to
his own monastery, and Aelred had just come from
his funeral, when he wrote these words, "O grave,
where is thy victory ? O death, where is thy sting ?
Where thou seemest to have done him some hurt,
there thou hast exalted him. Upon me, then, has all
thy venom been expended, and in aiming at him,
thou hast inflicted dreadful wounds upon me. It is
on me that has fallen all the grief, all the bitterness,
all the sorrow ; for the guide of my path, the rule of
my conversation has been taken from me. But how
is it, O my soul, that thou didst so long look upon
the funeral of thy sweet friend without tears ? Why

THE SPIRIT OF CITEAUX 147

didst thou let that beloved body go without kissing
it ? I was in sorrow, and with sobs I drew long sighs
from my breast, but I did not weep. The object
before me called for such intense grief, that I thought
that I did not grieve at all, even when my grief was
most violent ; at least, so I can tell on looking back.
So great was the stupor of my mind that I could not
believe that he was dead, even when I saw his body
was laid out for burial. But now that stupor has
given way to feeling, to grief, and suffering. And
are my tears blameable? Why should I be ashamed
of them ? Am I the only one to weep ? Tears,
groans, and sobs are all about me. But Thy tears, O
Lord Jesus, are the excuse for ours, those tears which
Thou didst shed for the death of Thy friend, express-
ing a human feeling, and proving to us Thy charity.
Thou didst put on, O Lord, the feeling of our in-
firmity, but it was, when Thou wouldest ; therefore
Thou mightest not have wept. Oh ! how sweet are
Thy tears, how grateful ! how they console me !
How they drop with sweetness on my harassed soul !
Behold, say they, how He loved him. Yea, behold !
how my Simon was loved by all, was embraced by
all, was cherished by all."

Truly the white monks were not a hard-hearted
race, as appears from this touching picture of a monk's
funeral. The world does not so regret its friends, at
least, if we may judge from the cold, heartless things
that funerals are. But we must now accompany
Aelred a little way into this same world to another
death-bed. It was one of bitter grief to him, and yet
it had its comfort too. We have all this while lost
sight of the Saxon priest with whom we began this

LIBRARY ST. MARY'S COLLEGE

148 ST. AELRED

narrative, Eillan, Aelred's father, the priest of Hex-
ham ; and it is only by accident that a document has
been preserved to us, from which it appears that
Eillan was taken ill at Durham, and repenting on his
death-bed of the unlawful possession which he kept
of the property of Hexham, sent for the prior of the
canons, and also for Aelred and two other sons,
whose names are thus known to have been Samuel
and Ethelwold. William, Abbot of Rievaux, also
came, and in their presence, and with the consent of
his sons, he formally gave up into the hands of the
prior all the lands of the Abbey which he had kept ;
and in token of this donation, he gave Robert a silver
cross, containing part of the relics of the Saints of
Hexham. Probably Aelred's consent, with that of
his brothers, was necessary to make this transaction
legal, and it must have been with joy that by this
renunciation, he cleared his family of the guilt of
sacrilege, which had so long hung over them. His
father, when his illness grew worse, took the monastic
habit in the Abbey of Durham. " He lived a few
days longer in strict self-examination, contrition of
heart, and mourning for his sins, and after having
received the body of the Lord to help him in his
passage from life to death, he breathed his last."

This glimpse of Aelred on the brink of his father's
grave, is the last which we catch of him as a simple
monk of Rievaux. It took place in 1138, which
was the year of the battle of the Standard. When
we meet him again it will be in another capacity.

CHAPTER VII

THE WORLD IN THE CHURCH

AND now we must again quit the cloister and go
forth into the world, and this time it will not be
the noisy world of knights and barons which was
battling outside the walls of Rievaux, but the ecclesi-
astical world, in which a more deadly war was waged
during that part of Aelred's life which remains. It
will thus appear what dangers Aelred escaped by
taking refuge in the haven of the cloister from the
sea of ecclesiastical politics. It will also be seen
how necessary to the church was a reform like the
Cistercian, of which one of the first principles was
to give up the politics of the world, and by which
Abbots were forbidden to become judges, and to
frequent courts of law, or even, except in particular
cases, to hold communication with the court of
Rome.1

A struggle was now beginning different in char-
acter from any which had gone before. In the
former contests, there appear Saints on the one
side, and the world on the other. But here we

1 V. Inst. cap. Gen. part i. c. 58, de placitis and 84, Nullus scribat
domino Papoe nisi pro propriis causis et co-abbatum suorum et episco-
porum, archipiscoporum, regum et principum suorum. No privileges
were to be obtained from the Holy See by particular Abbots, c. 31.

149

ISO ST. AELRED

have civilians and canonists, men of business and
politicians among churchmen, as well as in the
world. Law comes in instead of broad principle,
or rather principle takes the shape of law. Nearly
at the same time two young monarchs ascended
the thrones of England and of Germany, Henry
and Frederic. Both were remarkable men. Henry
was a good specimen of the Plantagenet race ; never
would his restless soul leave his body quiet. All
day long he was on his feet, whatever he was
doing, whether at mass or at council ; although his
legs frequently gave him pain from the many kicks
which he received from the fiery chargers which he
bestrode.1 He hardly ever sat down but on horse-
back, the saddle was his only throne ; from one
part to another of his vast dominions he hurried,
rolling everywhere his dove-like, deceitful eyes.
But if any thing aroused his anger, then it was
terrible to look upon him, for his large round eyes
seemed to shoot fire on all around him. Not so
his imperial majesty; inexorable and inflexible he
was ; so that on the very day of coronation at
Aix-la-chapelle, one who had offended him fell at
his feet in the very cathedral, thinking that then
kings' hearts are disposed to mercy, but he turned
away, and would not look at him.2 When the
clergy of Tortona quitted the beleaguered town with
cross and banner, and came to him in procession
with naked feet to beg for mercy, he was unruffled
and undisturbed, and sent them back with a bitter
smile, to live on horse-flesh or to die of famine.3

1 Peter of Blois, Ep. 66.
2 Otto, de Gestis Frid. ii. 3. 8 Otto, ii. 19.

THE WORLD IN THE CHURCH 151

Still he does not seem to have had the terrible fits
of passion which burst forth from Henry. He was
an indefatigable warrior like Henry ; but it is not
clad in mail and on horseback that we think of him,
it is rather seated on his throne on the plains of
Roncaglia, dispensing kingdoms with a sword, and
provinces with a banner.1 The sceptre suits best
his imperial hand, as the sword, the large, ungloved
hand of Henry.2 Pride was the besetting sin of the
Hohenstauffen, and passion of the Plantagenet

Yet however different they were, they agreed in
this : both were men of law and zealous adminis-
trators of justice, and both endeavoured to swallow
up the church in their reforms. Henry's aim was
to extend justice through his dominions by means
of his new division of circuits and judges. Frederic's
was rather to centralise justice and to make himself
its head across the Alps, as he had done in Germany.
His aim was wider than Henry's ; it extended
through all the intricate details of fiefs and arriere-
fiefs : the maxims which he studied were those of
the imperial court of Constantinople. They involved
a theory broad and comprehensive, taking into its
extensive range, not only Germany and Italy, but
all the world. Wide as was the theory of Innocent
III., that of Frederic Barbarossa was its match
without its religiousness. Of the two swords given
to St. Peter, he claimed one, as the Head of
the Church claimed the other, using the same text,

1 Est consuetude curiae ut regna per gladium, provinciae per vexillum
tradantur. Otto, ii. 5.

2 Nunquam, nisi aves deferat, utitur chirothecis. Peter of Blois,
Ep. 66,

152 ST. AELRED

without reflecting that he spoiled the illustration,
for he at least could not be the successor of the
Apostle. Frederic claimed his throne as the suc-
cessor of Charlemagne. The old Roman empire
was by no means supposed to be dead ; it was
considered to be continued in Constantinople, and
Charlemagne claimed it on the ground that the
Imperial line of Constantinople had failed, and it
was time that the empire should return to the West.1
When afterwards Frederic passed by Constantinople
on his way to the East, he would not meet the
Greek Emperor, for he was himself the Emperor
of Rome ; his Eastern majesty was but the Emperor
of New Rome. Head of the Holy Roman empire
was his title, and his obsequious prelates were not
afraid of the utmost conclusions, which such a title
would warrant2 Sole Emperor of the world is
one of the titles by which the Archbishop of Milan
addresses him in a speech delivered on the Ron-
caglia. Even kings acknowledged his greatness :
our own Henry says in a letter to him, "let the
will of the Empire be done wherever our dominion
extends."3 It is true that Henry had a point to
gain, and words, it is well known, cost nothing to
him whom a cardinal legate once called the greatest
liar he had ever known ; still they must have meant
something, not to appear preposterous.

But the great support of Frederic were his legists
of Bologna.4 One day the emperor was riding on
a fine horse with two great Doctors of law, one on

1 Palgrave's Anglo-Saxon Constitution, pp. 490, 506.

2 Radevic. Prising, ii. 4.

3 Radevic. i. 7. * Baronius in ann. 1158.

THE WORLD IN THE CHURCH 153

each side of him, Doctor Bulgarus and Doctor
Martin, and he asked them whether he was by right
lord of the world. Master Bulgarus answered that
he was not, as far as the property of it went ; but
the cautious Martin said that he was. " Then the
lord emperor," says the chronicle, "when he came
down from his palfrey, presented it to Martin."
,Here in the introduction of Doctor Martin and his
colleagues we have the characteristic of the whole
contest in Germany as well as in England. William
Rufus had summary methods of proceeding, rude
and simple modes of spoliation ; but Henry was a
more refined tyrant ; he set up for a lover of justice
and a reformer of law, and so he was, when it suited
him. Besides brute force, for that was not wanting
too, he fought with appeals, and sentences of sus-
pension and excommunication. But the times were
not ready for so much refinement ; it was only the
commencement of the new system, and he had to
spill the blood of a martyr before he had done.
The struggle however between Church and State in
England had not reached its height in Aelred's time,
and it is not mentioned by him in his writings ; while
that between Frederic and the Church is known to
have occupied his attention. We will therefore cross
over to the continent and see how the chief ecclesi-
astics of the day, the spiritual rulers of Christendom,
were employed, while Aelred was serving God in
peace at Rievaux.

There was something great about Frederic ; when
he crossed the Alps, to extend his power over Italy,
he declared that he came, not as a conqueror, but
as a lawgiver ; his speech to the diet was a noble

154 ST. AELRED

one,1 and his attempt to pacify the deadly feuds of the
cities was praiseworthy. He gave a written feudal
law to Italy which it had not known before ; but
he committed the same fault as Henry. The church
was to be centralised and drawn within the circle of
the empire ; the property of the sees to be treated
like that of the baron as imperial fiefs, inalienable
without the consent of the emperor, the lord of
the soil. And in all this it is remarkable how the
civilian everywhere comes into the contest ; instead
of the old and dignified watch-words of the contest,
investiture by ring and sceptre, or by pastoral staff,
there now appears all the jargon of feudal finance,
fodrum,2 and regalia, fiefs and allodial lands. The
spirit of the struggle was, however, the same, as we
shall see as it goes on. Even in the time of Eugenius
differences arose between the aged pontiff and the
young monarch. Frederic had constituted himself
the arbiter between rival candidates for the see
of Magdeburg, a dispute which an ecclesiastical
tribunal only was competent to decide. Eugenius
died before the matter could be settled, and his
successor Anastasius was weak enough to concede
the point. It was a bad lesson for Frederic ; it
destroyed the awe that men had for the inflexibility
of the Holy See in a just cause.

Such was the state of affairs when Anastasius died
after a short pontificate ; and Hadrian IV. succeeded
him in the See of St. Peter. It was a joyful day for
England when news came that the cardinal Bishop
of Albano was supreme Pontiff, for he was an

1 Radevic. Frising, ii. 3.

2 Fodrum means the duty of supporting the Imperial army.

THE WORLD IN THE CHURCH 155

Englishman, of genuine Saxon blood, Nicholas
Breakspear. He was the son of a man in a low
rank of life, who became a monk of St. Alban's.
The boy was brought up in the cloister, but when
he became a candidate for the novitiate, the Abbot
would not receive him. It was not every one who
could be admitted into the lordly Abbey of St.
Alban's. Much however could not be said for the
discernment of Abbot Robert, for the next meeting
which he had with the poor Saxon boy, was when
he came to Rome on the business of his Abbey, and
found his rejected novice in the chair of St. Peter.
The Abbot brought with him a considerable sum
of money, with three mitres, and sandals worked
by Christina, prioress of Margate. But Pope Adrian
would not receive the money ; he said with a good-
humoured smile, " I will not accept thy gifts, for once
on a time thou wouldest not have me for thy monk,
when I came to beg the habit of thee in all chanty."
Since he had left St. Alban's, he had become prior
of the canons of St. Rufus, and then as cardinal
legate of the Holy See, he had been sent into Norway
to form the Church among that newly converted
nation. In these ungenial regions, amidst this wild
people, he passed many years, and when he came
back to Italy he left a church, flourishing with
monasteries, and a holy clergy where he had found
a wilderness inhabited by a half heathen population.
Such was the reputation which he acquired for purity
of life and prudence in managing ecclesiastical affairs,
that on the death of Anastasius he was raised to
preside over the Catholic Church. It was at a
dangerous time, when the empire was arousing itself,

156 ST. AELRED

and the church was on the eve of a contest, at which
St. Gregory might have trembled. The times were
changed since St. Gregory's death ; the world had
grown accustomed to the great doctrines which he
had vindicated, and they had now thoroughly worked
into the feelings of Christendom. In another respect
however matters were less favourable ; St. Gregory
had formed his school about him, and his cardinals
co-operated with him ; but since then affairs had
become matters of precedent and custom at Rome,
and the Pope often found himself obliged to act
against his judgment, from the preponderance of
one party or another in the Sacred College. There
was at this time an Imperial party amongst the
Cardinals, and Hadrian found himself hampered by
them.1

Hadrian did not at first come into direct collision
with the Emperor. Frederic had yet to receive the
imperial crown at his hands, and was on his good
behaviour. When he appeared at Rome with his
German army, the Pope and the Emperor had a
mutual enemy to fear, the turbulent people of Rome,
and much blood was shed on Frederic's coronation
day. All however passed off happily as far as
Hadrian was concerned ; the sole thing which tended
to disturb their peace, was the hesitation of Frederic

1 Repugnabant enim Cardinales illi qui addict! erant imperatori et
non nisi quod ipsi placere scirent probandum putabant : in reliquis
autem se adversaries objiciebant. Quod saepe factum ab eis in
maximum Romanse ecclesiae detrimentum. See the grave words of
Baronius in ann. 1155, 23. If it had not been for the opposition of
the German party to the terms offered by the king of Sicily, Hadrian
would never have been in the awkward position at Beneventum, which
forced him to make concessions to Roger.

THE WORLD IN THE CHURCH 157

to hold the stirrup of the Pope, when he mounted
his horse. Hadrian in his grave calm way said,
" Since thou hast not paid me the honour which thy
predecessors have paid me, I will not receive thee
to the kiss of peace."1 Frederic simply took the
matter as one of custom and ceremonial. He went
in a business-like way to work, looked into old
records, and examined as witnesses those who had
been present at the crowning of Lothaire, and find-
ing that Hadrian was right, he complied. It was
a piece of ceremony, like the kiss of the Pope's
feet, very significant certainly, for it implied that
the Head of the Church on earth, was above the
Head of the Empire ; still it had nothing to do with
individuals, and his Imperial majesty did not think
himself degraded. But a serious cause of offence
soon followed, which arising, as it did, from an
apparent trifle, showed that two opposite principles
were at work and might break out any day into
open war. Hadrian sent to the emperor two legates,
cardinals Roland, chancellor of the Holy See, and
Bernard, to demand the liberation of a prelate who
had been maltreated and detained prisoner by some
German noble on his way from Rome. In the
course of his letter the Holy Father had reminded
Frederic how he had bestowed upon him the Imperial
crown, and professed himself to be ready to grant
him greater benefits.2 Now it happened unfortun-
ately that the Latin word for benefit, also signifies
benefice or fief; and hardly were the words out of

1 See Life of Hadrian in Muratori. Rer. Ital. Scrip., torn. iii. 443.

2 It seems absurd to suppose that Hadrian meant to claim the empire
as a fief. What greater fiefs were there in the world to bestow ?

158 ST. AELRED

the mouth of the official who read the letter to the
emperor, when his Imperial majesty took fire, and
all the princes of the empire rose up in anger. Was
then the only emperor in the world, the head of the
feudal hierarchy himself a vassal? Was the Holy
Roman empire itself a fief? The notion was in-
tolerable; and when cardinal Roland innocently
asked, " Who then did bestow the crown on the
emperor?" one of the fierce nobles around drew a
sword, and would have struck him if Frederic had
not interposed. The fact was, that the question was
an awkward one. If Frederic's lofty theory was
true, if he was the imperial Head of the Christian
world, where did he get the title? To one like
Frederic, disposed to make it any thing but an empty
title, and, above all, who professed to reduce it to
theory by his legists, and to draw inferences from
it, the question was one which stared him in the
face. Frederic could only ground his title on the
fact that Charlemagne, some three hundred years
before, had received the Imperial crown from Pope
Leo one Christmas day in St. Peter's. The power
of granting this crown resided in Rome, such was
the theory of the times ; so much so that the mock
senate of Rome claimed it, and Frederic had to
choose between the sacred Head of Christendom and
this self-constituted assembly. This theory was
enough to justify the greatest pretensions to rule
over temporal princes that the Pope ever made;
and since that power resided in one who was Christ's
Vicar on earth, we need not wonder that the nations
bowed before it. We may look upon it now calmly
and dispassionately, for the power has passed away

THE WORLD IN THE CHURCH 159

and is not even asserted ; and without taking fire
like Frederic and his princes, we may say that in
as far as it could be carried out, it was true. The
fact that it could be exercised was its justification,
and it might be well if the nations had Christ's
earthly representative to be to them a living im-
personation of justice, and to step in when earthly
and material power is of no avail.

The idea was therefore by no means so pre-
posterous as might be imagined ; besides some
kingdoms were acknowledged fiefs of the Holy See.
However this may be, Hadrian did not in this case
lay claim to this power ; he mildly answered Frederic
that he was surprised that he should misinterpret
his words, and that "beneficium" meant benefit, as
well as benefice ; so the storm cleared away for the
present from the imperial brows. But nothing ex-
ternal would keep the peace between two such
elements as the Church and the world. The empire
of the Church can hardly be defined; in one sense
it has no earthly rule at all, and in another it bears
rule wherever there are men who have souls to be
saved. Wide therefore is its dominion as is the
empire of conscience, and thus in one sense the
whole world comes under its jurisdiction. But this
kingdom, strong as it is, depends entirely on a
conscientious basis; when therefore the conscience
is vitiated or misinformed, it at once puts itself in
opposition to the Church. In this way then there
can never long be peace between two such powers,
unless one is recognised to be above the other. All
this is true in the abstract; but the battle between
the Church and the world is hardly ever fought

160 ST. AELRED

directly on these grounds ; but on a much grosser
and more material battle-field. And this was
especially the case in the struggle between the
HohenstaufTen and the Popes. In process of time
the Church acquires rights and property, and these
in a certain sense circumscribe, because they serve
to define her power. Besides which they make her
open to attack, by giving her points to defend, for
which she cannot fight without the appearance of
ambition. She must needs mingle in worldly policy,
and appear externally like one of the powers of
the world. Church property looks just like any
other property, and if a Bishop possesses land, why
should he not do homage for it? If it is recognised
and defended by the law, it becomes subject to the
law. So reasoned Frederic. And while he was
about it, he thought he might as well make laws
about ecclesiastical property as any other. The
Bishops in Italy were possessed of great power in
the cities; they were often temporal princes, and
he could not be sure of the fair cities of Lombardy
without keeping them under. He therefore required
the act of homage and oath of fealty from a Bishop
as he would from one of his own nobles. When
Hadrian remonstrated with him, he answered with
a curious mixture of history and imperial theology,
while the legist of Bologna evidently inspires the
whole. Hadrian's letter begins with saying that the
divine law bids us honour our parents. Frederic
answered by quoting, " The law of justice, which
gives every man his own. From his ancestors did
he get his crown, but what had Silvester in the time
of Constantine? Whatever that popedom of theirs

THE WORLD IN THE CHURCH 161

possesses, it obtains from the liberality of princes."
And then came the text about "rendering unto
Caesar all that is Caesar's," and an exhortation to
humility. At another time, when Hadrian complained
about the occupation of Episcopal palaces by him-
self and his retainers, he answered with a quotation
from the digests that the soil was his, and therefore
so was all that was built upon it.

All this will at least serve to mark the character
of the contest ; it was the world's law in its process
of formation, striving to draw into itself, and to
neutralise the Church. If it had succeeded in merg-
ing the jurisdiction of the Church into its own, St.
Gregory's work would have been undone. It was not
however till after Hadrian's death that the Emperor's
designs became apparent ; for then broke out one of
the most audacious acts of schism that ever attempted
to divide the Christian world. In the conclave held
for the election of the Pope, a large majority of the
Cardinals united in favour of Roland, that same
Chancellor of the Holy See who excited Frederic's
anger by his untimely question. He had already
been robed in the purple mantle in which the new
Pontiff was presented to the people of Rome, when
Cardinal Octavian, supported by two other Cardinals,
pulled the mantle off him. A senator who was pre-
sent snatched it out of Octavian's hand, who then
proceeded to robe himself with another mantle, which
he had brought with him for the purpose. Unluckily,
however, he put on the hind part of the mantle fore-
most, so that the hood hung down in front ; then
the doors were thrown open, and thus accoutred, he

1 Giesler, i. 52.
VOL. V. L

162 ST. AELRED

presented himself to the people, amidst a band of
armed men, while the Cardinals, with the real suc-
cessor of St. Peter, fled into the church to hide them-
selves. The instinct of Christendom saw through
the transaction, and recognised Alexander, for so
Roland was now called ; even Henry II.'s good sense
led him right all through the struggle, and though
he threatened great things in the height of his con-
test with St. Thomas, he remained faithful to Alex-
ander. And now the designs of Frederic became
apparent ; 1 he wished to have a German instead of
a Catholic Pope. A Pope there must be, and let him
be infallible too ; nay, the more infallible the better,
provided he is but the servant of the empire.
Sovereigns were ready enough to acknowledge the
Papal supremacy to the utmost, when it suited their
purpose, when they had a new kingdom to conquer,
or a weak title to strengthen. It was only when he
came in their way that they wished to be rid of him.
So now Frederic called together a council at Pavia ;
it consisted but of the bishops of the empire, and so
he could safely talk of his rights as successor of Con-
stantine, and quote the emperors who had exercised
the right of convoking councils. The upshot was, as
might have been expected, that Victor, for so Octa-
vian had called himself, was judged to be Pope. But
this council was a failure ; Alexander was too wise
to submit his cause to any council whatever ; he was
Pope and could not be judged ; besides which the
Christian world had already decided by sending in
its adherence to Alexander. Frederic saw that he

1 De amissione imperialis curiae timebat. Acta Alex. III. Muratori
3- 452-

THE WORLD IN THE CHURCH 163

was foiled, and next tried to entice the good Louis
of France to a conference, to decide on the claims of
the two claimants. Louis had been so far taken in
as to promise to meet the Emperor; but Frederic
unhappily asserted in the course of the negotiation,
that only the Bishops of the empire had the right of
judging a cause respecting the election of a supreme
Pontiff, his imperial majesty being the especial de-
fender of the Holy See. But Louis smiled at this
novel doctrine, and said, " Does not the Emperor
know that our Lord when on earth bade Peter feed
His sheep ? And are not the French Bishops a part
of the flock which the Son of God has committed to
Peter ? " And so saying, Louis " turned his horse's
head disdainfully, and flew to arms with his barons
and the rest of his forces " ; and back went the
Emperor, with all his men, and would not wait to
confront the Fleurs-de-Lis. The times were not
yet come when the world could take in the idea of
a French Pope and a German Pope.

It is not our purpose to follow the struggle to its
close, to show how the Lombard league was formed,
how the Tuscan league, the army of the Church,
joined it, and how after many a hard battle by land
and by sea, Frederic at last, in St. Mark's Cathedral
at Venice, threw himself prostrate at Alexander's
feet, and the Pontiff raised him with tears in his
eyes, and the Te Deum was entoned for joy. But
the contest lasted for many a long year, during which
Alexander had conflicting interests to settle, and a
line of policy to pursue ; at the commencement of
the whole contest he had to embark for France with
all his train ; and little was the peace that he could

1 64 ST. AELRED

enjoy with two contests on his hands, one with
Henry of England, the other with the Emperor.

Little indeed was the supreme Pontiff to be envied
in his high dignity ; and for this conclusion, like John
of Salisbury, we have high authority. There remains
on record a conversation which took place between
two frank-hearted Englishmen, one on the throne of
St. Peter, the other brought close to it by his posi-
tion. Considering that one of the interlocutors was
Hadrian, the only Pope who was English-born, the
dialogue is unique, and forms a fitting moral to this
chapter. " I call to witness," says John, " Lord
Hadrian, that no man is more wretched than the
Roman Pontiff, no condition more miserable than
his. If he had nothing else to vex him, the labour
alone would make him sink." He had gone through
every office in the Church, from the very lowest, and
every step brought an accession of bitterness ; and
yet all former bitterness was joy compared to what
he felt on the thorny chair of St. Peter. Well might
the crown and the mitre shine with brilliancy, for they
were of fire, and burnt the brow of the wearer. And
in another place, John tells us how Pope Hadrian
begged of him to tell him what men thought of the
Roman curia, and how he bluntly laid bare what
was one cause of Hadrian's difficulties, the universal
outcry against the exactions and avarice of the court
of Rome. Doubtless Hadrian was in part right when,
with a smile, he answered his rough monitor by
quoting the old fable of the body and its revolted
members. The administration of the ecclesiastical
offices of Christendom could not be carried on with-
out extensive resources. The whole array of expec-

THE WORLD IN THE CHURCH 165

tatives, mandates, and oblations, might be excused
on the ground that it was necessary that the Pope
should have a certain number of benefices to give
away, just as a prime minister cannot carry on the
government without the exercise of patronage. All
this is true, and the governed are ever apt to over-
rate the faults of their rulers ; but it is also true that
the voice of St. Bernard had hardly disappeared
from the earth, and he had cried out, " O ambition,
the cross of the ambitious, how is it that thou art a
torment to all, yet all love Thee ! Ambition rather
than devotion wears the pavement of St. Peter's !
Does not the papal palace echo to its voice every
day ? Is not the whole laborious discipline of law
and canon administered for its gain ? Does not
Italian avarice gloat over its spoils with insatiable
avidity ? " * This of course proves nothing as to the
rights of the Holy See, nor did it interfere in St.
Bernard's mind with the ideal of the father of
Christendom, "the hammer to beat down tyrants,
the father of kings, the moderator of laws, the dis-
penser of canons." 5 Nor does it prove anything
against individuals ; the character of Hadrian him-
self has never been impeached, and even John of
Salisbury, with his hand on his heart, declares,
" Never have I seen more honest clerks than in the
Romish church." But it does prove that all the in-
conveniences of an extensive system belonged to the
Roman See. The Pope must be a man of business ;
he must be vexed with the complaints of his subjects,
and the evil of his ministers ; and the Cardinals and
great men of the church must be men of action and
1 De Con. iii. I. 2 De Con. 4 fin.

1 66 ST. AELRED

politicians. And now that we have drawn the moral
that we wanted from this narrative, we will go back
to where we left Aelred in 1138, and see what he
was doing while all this was going on in the great
world.

CHAPTER VIII

THE CISTERCIAN ABBOT

SILENTLY and rapidly did the Cistercian order
spread in England ; first came Waverley, and so
retired and solitary was its situation, that its exist-
ence was unknown to their brethren in the north,
and they were astonished to discover that there
were white monks in England besides themselves.1
Rievaux, Tintern, and Fountains came next, and
from them issued communities which spread over
the face of the land ; and this silent rise of the
houses of St. Mary in England, is the only redeem-
ing feature of Stephen's miserable reign. "At that
time," says William of Newbridge, " when the whole
strength of the regal power was gone, the powerful
men of the realm, each, according to his means,
continued to build castles, either to defend their
own or to overrun their neighbours' estates. At
this time then, when evil was rife through the
weakness of King Stephen, or rather through the
devil's malice, the great King of Heaven by His

1 Battle of the Standard, ap. Twysden. Waverley was founded in
1128, according to its annals. It never rose to the importance of
Rievaux; in 1187 it had but a hundred and twenty lay -brethren and
seventy monks, while Rievaux, within ten years after its foundation,
had three hundred brethren, though the proportion of the lay-brethren
to the monks does not appear.

167

168 ST. AELRED

wisdom and Providence, gloriously stepped forth in
a marked way to put down the king of pride, by
erecting such castles as befit the King of peace.
For, many more monasteries of servants and hand-
maids of the Lord are acknowledged to have risen
up during the short time of Stephen's reign, or
nominal reign, than during the hundred years
before."1 It seemed to be the only sign of
religion left among the nobles, and it was a source
of great comfort to men of restless habits continu-
ally exposed to great dangers, when they thought
that their monks were praying for them while
they were engaged in their perilous wanderings.2
William of Albemarle declared that he always
slept soundly about cock-crow, whether under his
tent or on the wide sea, because he knew that
then the bells of his Abbey of Melsa were ringing
for matins ; 3 and at another time, John Courtenay,
when in great peril of shipwreck, bade the sailors
be of good cheer, for his Cistercians of Ford were
at that moment praying for him. The poor people,
too, loved "the hooded folk, who spent a part of
their time in prayer and the service of God, and
the rest in the labours of the field like rustics."

In the year 1143, William, Earl of Lincoln, came
to the Abbot of Rievaux, to beg of him to send a
colony of monks to Revesby, one of his estates
in Lincolnshire. The Abbot complied, and sent
Aelred, with twelve monks, to take possession of the
new ground assigned to them ; and so he left the
valley of Rievaux, about five years after the time
when we left him at Durham, standing by his father's

1 William of Newbridge, I, 15. 2 Dugdale, v. 393. 3 Dugdale, 379.

THE CISTERCIAN ABBOT 169

death-bed.1 It was a place of no great dignity this
Abbacy of Revesby, but it was one which required
consummate prudence. Each new community was
an experiment, and when the founder had given a
certain quantity of wood and meadow, the monks
had to shift for themselves, and to clear their way
by felling trees and building habitations, as a settler
would do in the woods of America. There was
plenty of marsh in this domain, for special permis-
sion is given to the monks to build where they
please in the marsh ; and from these words of the
charter, it is not very hard to guess that Aelred's
occupations at this time were principally cutting
down wood and draining a Lincolnshire fen.2 Cer-
tainly the picture which we thus get of him, axe
in hand, working in his tunic and black scapular,
is not very dignified ; and he must often have
regretted Rievaux and his novices ; but monks do
not choose for themselves, and all was gain to him
for Christ's sake. One good, however, he got from
his Abbacy of Revesby ; he had there advanced
into the country of the Gilbertines, for fens seem
to be the territory of the order of Sempringham,
as mountains of Benedictines, and valleys of Cister-
cians. And here probably he became acquainted
with St. Gilbert, for " Gislebertus de Semplingham "
is mentioned as one of the witnesses to a charter
belonging to the Abbey. He was not, however,
more than two years at Revesby, when he was

1 Dugdale says that the annals of Lowth give 1143 for the founda-
tion of this Abbey; and the annals of Peterborough, though they
assign it to 1142, yet say that it was in the pontificate of Celestine II.,
which was in 1 143.

2 Dugdale, v. 454.

1 70 ST. AELRED

called away to a much higher sphere.1 In 1145,
William, the first Abbot of Rievaux, died, and
brother Maurice was elected in his stead. It was
not long, however, before the new Abbot judged
himself unfit for his dignity, and resigned his
charge. Richard of Hexham says, that he did so
for the glory of God. He doubtless found that he
made a better monk than Abbot, and retired. It
was a harder thing to be an Abbot in those days
than may be imagined. On his resignation, the
monks bethought themselves of their former master
of the novices, the Abbot of Revesby, and so they
elected him Abbot of Rievaux.

Now since there were various sorts of Abbots in
the middle ages, we must classify them before we
can know where, or under what species, to place
Aelred. There is of course the grand division of
good and bad, but this is far too wide for our
purpose. There was the hunting and hawking
Abbot, a character rife in Saxon times, but as yet
rare in England since the Conquest. And then
there was the political Abbot, he whose shaven
crown and thoughtful face might be seen at parlia-
ments and hustings,2 a man in high favour with
kings and nobles. He often had a private exchequer,
appropriated the convent money, and sent presents
out of it to the king and queen.3 " Nowadays,"
says Aelred, "what market, what court of justice,

1 The chronicle of Melrose puts Abbot William's death in 1145.
Simeon of Durham appears to give 1146 as the date; his words
may, however, mean that William died in 1145, and that Aelred
succeeded in the course of the next year, the short interval being
occupied by Maurice.

2 John of Salisbury. 3 Matt. Par. Vitse. Abb, St. Albani, p. 102.

THE CISTERCIAN ABBOT 171

what council can go on without monks ? " These
Abbots, however, were not always bad, and of the
good sort was Suger, the great Abbot of St. Denis.
Besides this, there was the negligent Abbot, the
good easy man, who sat in his abbatial lodgings,
entertaining seculars instead of associating with his
own monks, and asking them to dinner at his table
as he ought to have done ; he cared not though the
master cellarer and officials of the convent pawned
the convent money to Jews ; l and he let monastic
discipline go to ruin by allowing the monks in the
infirmary to talk as they would, so that the brethren
pretended to be sick when they were not, and by
giving dispensations to the brethren, and allowing
them too many pittances on feast-days. And there
was the tyrannical Abbot,2 who despatched the
brethren who were obnoxious to him to distant cells,
and kept them there all their lives, who, instead of
consulting " the nobility of the convent," 3 its men of
rank, the prior, the cellarer, and the sacrist, chose to
surround himself with young men and novices, and
act without advice. And then he would appropriate
the property of the convent, and give the lands to
enrich his family.4 But on the whole Abbots who
were imperfect without being absolutely bad may be
divided into two classes. First, there was the Abbot
who gave so much time to contemplation and prayer
as to neglect his duties, and to make blunders from
not knowing the resources of the Abbey ; as did
John, Abbot of St. Alban's, who pulled down a large
portion of the church, and found that he had no

1 Matt. Par. 114. Cronica Jocelini, p. 2. 2 Matt. Par. 1 12.

3 Matt. Par, 102. 4 Matt, Par. 102, 113.

172 ST. AELRED

money to build it up again.1 It was indeed very
necessary that the Abbot should look after the pro-
perty of the convent, for instances occurred in which
a convent was entirely deserted by its monks, simply
because their property was not enough for their
maintenance, as happened to the Abbey of Pipewell,
in Northamptonshire. It once stood in the midst of
beautiful woods, which formed a principal source of
its revenue.2 But by the negligence of some Abbots,
and the misconduct of others, the woods were fast
thinned and destroyed ; whole trees were burned in
the huge chimneys in winter time, powerful persons
who wanted timber for building helped themselves
from the trees, and bad Abbots cut down the
stately oaks to pay their debts, till the poor Abbey
was left shorn of her leafy honours, "like a bird
stripped of its feathers." Besides, if the Abbot did
not keep a sharp look - out on his grounds, his
neighbours were sure to encroach upon him. So
it did not do for the Abbot to be absorbed in con-
templation, and to neglect his business. Secondly,
besides this class, there is another much more
extensive, and this consists of the Abbots who
were so attentive to the secular affairs of the convent
as, externally at least, to appear like worldly men.
These were the sharp, shrewd, keen-eyed men, who
esteemed the honour and comfort of the convent as
their own, ready to fight with king or bishop for the
privileges of the house. Such an one would journey
to Rome to procure exemption from episcopal
authority, with his pockets well lined with marks of
gold and silver for the cardinals.3 An Abbot must

1 Matt. Par. 103. 2 Dugdale, vol. v. 4, 31. 3 Matt. Par. 71.

THE CISTERCIAN ABBOT 173

be eloquent and ready, so as to preach dignified
sermons to the people in the church ; he must not
be too learned or too spiritual, and the men that he
loves are not the good, humble monks, but men like
himself, who make good officials for the convent.
Yet he must be irreproachable in his morals, that
none speak evil of the convent. A stately figure he
must be, to set off the jewelled mitre, and the
curiously wrought dalmatic, and the pastoral staff.
In fine, he must be such an one as to please the
monks of St. Edmund, whose prayer was, when they
wanted a new Abbot, " From good clerks deliver us,
good Lord." l He would form the very beau-ideal of
him whose general rule, on an election, was "that
we choose not a very good monk, nor yet an
over-wise clerk, neither one too simple nor too
weak, for I know that some one has said, ' Medio
tutissimus ibis.' "

Aelred belonged to neither of these classes ; he
was rather the Father Abbot, than the Lord Abbot.
The Cistercian idea of a superior was, that he should
be the spiritual director of the whole convent. What
Aelred had been to the novices, he now was to the
three hundred brethren of Rievaux, with the addi-
tional accession of a dignity marked rather by its
influence, than by the external signs of magnificence
common in other orders. His office was a laborious
one, and he who was made Abbot was considered, in
comparison with the simple monk, to be taking the
part of Martha rather than that of Mary. Many
a time when he would rather have been on his
knees in the Church, had Aelred to listen to the

1 Cronica Jocelini, p. u.

174 ST. AELRED

detail of the spiritual wants of the brethren. Little
do they know of monastic life who suppose that all
temptation was over as soon as the gates of the
monastery had closed upon the monk, and shut him
out from the world. " Ah ! brethren/' said Aelred, in
one of his sermons to the convent, one Christmas
season, " of those who are just come from the world,
some are unlearned and simple-minded, others erudite
and subtle, some bound by the habits of vice, others,
though sinners, yet free from all crime, some brought
up in luxury, others worn down by a hardy life, some
slothful, others active, some of such a temper as to
feel scarce any temptations to impurity, others
tempted by the least thing, some of a fiery temper,
others naturally mild. It is necessary then to study
the state and the temper of every one who flies hither
from the world, to know what is hurtful to each, and
to point out to him the best refuge from his enemy.
Some are to be kept away from all external employ-
ment, others from the society of this or that man,
others are to find a covert under a strict silence from
the burning heat of anger, others must be taught to
cure their lusts by coarse food, others are to be pre-
served from a restless spirit and a wandering heart
by labour and watchings, others are to be sheltered
from the attacks of evil spirits, by psalms and
prayers, by meditation and reading. In every case
an Abbot must offer to each vice, by which those
under him are attacked, the proper treatment which
experience tells us, is opposed to it."1 This was
Aelred's occupation.

They were great schools of spiritual life these

1 Serm. in Isaiam, 28.

THE CISTERCIAN ABBOT 175

first Cistercian convents, wonderful realisations of
the Book of the Imitation of Christ. Aelred knew
all the stages of the religious life of the soul, and
could classify and arrange them as a physician
would states of the body. " The first step," he says,
" is, that a man flying from the world and eschewing
all vice, should shun all worldliness.1 Then in all
obedience let him submit himself to his superior,
and let him purify himself, and in hunger and
thirst, in watchings and labours, in poverty and
nakedness, take vengeance on himself for all that
his memory taxes him with, and so must good
habits be set up in the place of bad. Thus in the
nest of discipline must he remain, till he be full
fledged, and have the wings of virtue wherewith to
fly, for never can he rule, who has not first learned
to obey. And then purified from vice and adorned
with virtue, let him pass on to the study of the
Scriptures, and there he will receive illumination
and gain wisdom. And when he shall have learned
in the Scriptures to refer all his life and knowledge
to the love of God and of his neighbour, then on
the two wings of wisdom and of love, borne up
to the mount of contemplation, let him learn to
form this earthly tabernacle after the pattern of the
heavenly. The first step then is conversion, the
second purification, the third virtue, the fourth know-
ledge, the fifth contemplation, the sixth charity.
And these perchance are the six steps to the throne
of Solomon ; if any one strives to sit thereon, without
having trodden them, he will mount, not to take
his seat there, but to fall headlong." In another

1 Serm. in Isaiam, 28.

1 76 ST. AELRED

place, by a more accurate division, he mentions
three stages, — Conversion, Purification, and Con-
templation ; and in this last stage, " the soul purified
by spiritual exercises, passes on to heavenly con-
templation and meditation on the Holy Scriptures.
Then does virtue begin to grow sweet to it, vice to
be loathsome, and it tastes how sweet the Lord is.1
In the first of these stages, fear, proceeding from
the thought of God's justice, purifies the soul ; and
when it is purified, wisdom illuminates it ; and after
this illumination the goodness of God rewards it
by the infusion of His sweetness."2

Strange is this early germ of the threefold division
of the progress of the Christian soul into the Purifica-
tive, the Illuminative and the Unitive life, which
was drawn much more fully many hundred years
after by another Saint. Aelred here shows us the
spiritual exercises of the twelfth century. And it
was this system of which he was the administrator
at Rievaux. Like a good shepherd, with his pastoral
staff in his hand, he ruled his flock, bearing the
weak ones in his bosom, and helping all with his
gentle voice to escape the jaws of the lion, who
goes about seeking whom he may devour. How
much he loved them appears in every word of his
writings. Many slight vestiges there are of his
conventual history, scattered up and down in his
works, scanty glimpses of struggles and pains which
he participated with his spiritual children. How
they rejoiced when they could chat with him alone,
away from the Philistines who took up his time,
as they called the strangers who came to him on

1 Serm. in Isaiam, 31. 2 De Jesu puero. 493.

THE CISTERCIAN ABBOT 177

secular matters ! How familiarly they talked to
him, not fearing to use words of playful raillery
with each other in his presence, for it was his
maxim that the soul required relaxation at times.
They ventured to speak to him of his friends, how
one had taken offence at him for some trivial cause,
how in times when he was falsely accused, one
friend who lived beyond the seas, had remained
faithful to him, while even another friend, the
Sacristan of Clairvaux, had taken part against him.1
Each of these slight hints contains a whole history
of feelings and affections which has now perished ;
but one thing we can see, that he ^was still the
same Aelred, always looking out for some one to
love, and one young monk was especially beloved
by him, called Ivo, and for him probably he wrote
that most beautiful treatise of his on Jesus,2 when
a child of twelve years old in the temple. But
the Lord would not let him love Ivo too well, for
this young monk died before he had been long at
Rievaux. But even more than for the bodily death of
his disciples did he mourn for their spiritual death ;
one especially, there was a promising brother, who fell
we know not how ; nor should we know any thing
about him, if Aelred did not hold up the fall of this
nameless brother as a warning to the convent in one
of his sermons. And his love descended to more
minute particulars, for he condoles with his brethren
for the loss which they one year sustained by the
destruction of a flock of sheep, — a serious loss for the
farmer monks, who lived by the sale of the wool.

1 De Spirit. Ami. iii. 453, 460, et passim.

2 De Jesu puero duodenni.

VOL. V,

178 ST. AELRED

It must not however be supposed that Aelred's
life was altogether as quiet as it might at first sight
appear. He was sometimes obliged to be my lord
Abbot as well as his neighbours. The late Abbot of
Rievaux had been obliged to make a journey across
the Alps, and to appear at Rome in favour of St.
William's deposition. Aelred's journey did not,
however, lead him so far from home. On the
death of Henry Murdach, St. William was installed
at York, without any opposition from the new
Abbot. Aelred had, however, many voyages across
the sea to the general Chapter of Citeaux. But
even withouj: going to Burgundy, he had matter
enough to employ him at home. The Abbot of
Rievaux was head of the Cistercian Abbots in
England, and sometimes causes came before him
judicially. In 1151, he decided a cause in favour
of the monks of Byland, who after many troubles
had at length obtained a settlement. The poor
brethren had been expelled from their convent by
the Scots, and had been refused shelter by the
Abbey of Furness, their mother house, and had
managed to find a home on the other side of the
Rye, so near Rievaux that the bells of each convent
might be heard from the other. This was, however,
contrary to Cistercian discipline, and they again
removed to Byland. There they were in a flourish-
ing state, and had not only built themselves a
church, but also a parochial chapel in an outlying
valley, for the use of which they had generously
sent one of the bells of the convent in a waggon.1
When lo ! the Abbot of Furness, after treating

1Dugdale, v. 351.

THE CISTERCIAN ABBOT 179

them so inhospitably, claimed jurisdiction over
them, and the cause came before Aelred, who
decided it in favour of his poor neighbours of
Byland. But not only by his own order, but by
all the monasteries around him, he was consulted
in cases of difficulty. In some of the later years
of his life, it cannot precisely be ascertained which,
he was called to Watton, to pronounce on the well-
known case of an inmate of the convent, who had
fallen into sin.1 The only question which was asked
him was, What was to be done with the wretched
penitent, under the extraordinary circumstances?
Aelred, as appears by his writings,2 was no friend to
monks who were ever on the look-out for miracles, but
in this case there was no choice between accusing the
nuns of a wicked fraud, or believing the truth of
miracle. Aelred found that he had reason to believe
that the nuns were holy women, and thought the
latter alternative by far the less difficult. He had
pity on the wretched sinner, and when the prior
wrote to him to ask whether she should be punished
any more, he answered, "What God has cleansed
call not thou common, and what He has Himself
absolved do not thou bind."

In the Lent of 1153, he went on a journey which
was ever memorable to him. The business of his
order took him into Scotland, and he saw King
David for the last time in his life. David had
founded no less than four Cistercian Abbeys in
Scotland, it is therefore not at all unlikely that
Aelred should have often seen him since he became

1 V. Life of St. Gilbert, p. 117.

2 Spec. Char. ii. 24. And also Serm. 4, p. 37.

i8o ST. AELRED

Abbot ; and it must have been with a fearful
joy that he revisited those scenes from which so
many years before he had fled as if for his life.
Many a change had taken place, both in King
David and in himself, since he had left Scotland.
And on this, his last visit, he missed a face which
had ever welcomed him with beaming eyes. Henry,
the heir of the crown of Scotland, the brave soldier,
and accomplished prince, had died the year before,
to the irreparable loss of Scotland. With his devoted
piety and enlightened understanding, he would have
been a fitting match for the Henry who was just
about to mount the English throne. Aelred had
left David in the beginning of his reign, full of
schemes for the improvement of a realm, which
was flourishing under his care ; now he found him
a penitent and a mourner, bound down by grief,
yet resigned to God's will. He acknowledged that
the death of his son was a fitting punishment, sent
by God for having let loose the savage Galwegians
on the north of England. So poignant had been
his grief, that had it not been for the entreaties of
his whole realm, bishops and nobles, he would have
given up his crown and sceptre, and retired to a
convent. When Aelred left him, he seemed to have
a presentiment that they should never meet again
on this side the grave, and he embraced him fondly
and shed tears when they parted. A few months
after, at the end of May, shortly before the
Ascension, news was brought to Rievaux that
David had died as he had lived, a holy death.
Aelred mourned for his friend and benefactor with
the poignant grief which was natural to him. In

THE CISTERCIAN ABBOT 181

the first burst of his sorrow he wrote a sketch
of the good king's character, and afterwards sent it
to one for whom he then felt a great anxiety and
love, to Henry, who had mounted the throne of
England, David's grand-nephew.

It is interesting to see the light in which the
Abbot views the young king ; and truly Henry
might well be an object of solicitude to every
thoughtful man. He was the most powerful prince
in Europe, in the flower of his age, and gifted with
talents and the will to extend his power. Henry
began well ; near the place of his landing was a
church, into which he entered to pray, and at mass
he came forward to receive the .kiss of peace from
the priest. His policy soon showed that he meant
to restrain the power of the nobles, to show justice
to all, and especially to favour the peasants and
the burghers of the towns. In the very month of
his coronation, the election of Adrian to the papal
throne seemed to promise a happy concord between
the English Church and state. Aelred then might
well look with fondness and hope on the young
king. Henry's vices had not yet developed, and
Aelred, with the sanguine and trusting temper
which made him unable to conceive the possibility
of fraud in the convent of Watton, invested the
young king with all manner of virtues. He looked
upon him as the destined restorer of the old English
line to the throne of England, the line of Edward
the Confessor, which the Abbot had never ceased
to love. He applies to Henry an old prophecy,
ascribed to St. Dunstan, and rejoices " that England
has now a king of English blood, and bishops and

182 ST. AELRED

abbots, princes, and good soldiers." He fondly
draws out " from ancient chronology," the genealogy
of Henry, through his English mother and English
kings, " even up to Adam, the father of all mortals " ;
and he holds up, as a model to him, his great
ancestor Alfred, and David, whose death he was
mourning, "whose pure hands had made him a belted
knight." At the same time, with a keen anticipa-
tion of Henry's dangers, he drops various hints
about submission to the Church ; " how the blessed
Alfred thought that the great dignity of kings
consisted in having no power in the Church of
Christ, and how he imitated the example of Con-
stantine, who said to the bishops, ' It belongs not
to me to judge of priests.'" Henry's latter days,
troubled as they were with the rebellion of his sons,
and stained with the blood of a martyr, would not
have been so different from his religious landing,
when, high in hopes, he threw himself on his knees
in the little church by the seashore, if he had
attended to Aelred's warning.

A part of the Abbot's exhortation to Henry was,
that he should watch over the interests of the royal
family of Scotland ; and this portion of the homily
he neglected, as well as the rest. Henry, when he
was made a knight by David, had sworn to leave
the Scottish king and his heirs in peaceful posses-
sion of the domains which they held of the English
crown. He, however, outwitted David's successor,
the young King Malcolm, who was no match for
his unscrupulous suzerain. The young prince was
the son of Henry, the friend of Aelred's youth.
From the simplicity and purity of his character, he

THE CISTERCIAN ABBOT 183

was called the maiden king ; and of him St. Godric
said, that Malcolm and St. Thomas were more
acceptable to God than any men between the north
and the Alps.1 For both these reasons Aelred loved
him, and was enabled to do him a service which
Henry's armies could never have effected. When
Malcolm returned from France, whither, with a
boyish ardour for war, he had accompanied his
cousin Henry, he found his nobles everywhere in
revolt, war in the wild clans of the Highlands, and
war in Galloway. His people did not like his
intimacy with the English monarch, and Malcolm
was almost looked upon as a foreigner. He, however,
quelled the rising of the Highlands, and expelled
the savage inhabitants of Moray, and substituted
for them some of his more peaceable Lowland sub-
jects ; he reduced his revolted nobles, and Galloway
alone remained. In three pitched battles he beat
these turbulent Galwegian clans in one year, and
the country was reduced to a precarious state of
peace. But the cause of the evil still remained, and
unless he could have expelled the people, as he
had done those of Moray, it seemed likely to remain.
The people were the remnants of the ancient Picts,
and resisted all the efforts of the Scottish king to

1 From the connection which undoubtedly existed between Whiterne,
the See of Galloway and St. Aelred, it seems exceedingly likely that
he persuaded Fergus to retire, though the writer of the life in Capgrave
mixes up two events together. It is certain from Fordun, 8, 4, that
Fergus did take the habit of a canon at Holyrood, but the dissensions
which took place in his family to which he refers, did not happen till
after Aelred's death, in the reign of William. Fordun, 8, 25, 39. The
revolt of Fergus occurred soon after Henry's expedition to Toulouse,
probably in the year 1160, which is the date given in the Chronicle of
Holyrood. Ang. Sac. i. 161.

184 ST. AELRED

civilise them. Vice seemed so thoroughly engrained
into their character that even Christianity had not
expelled it. An Abbot of Rievaux, however, might
venture amidst the savage tribes of Galloway ;
Aelred's name was well known all over the border,
and even the vicious chieftains of the country felt
awed by his simple dignity. It is not known what
special cause took Aelred into Galloway. The old
bishopric of Whiterne had just been re-established,
and the regular canons, who had been introduced,
had a great love and reverence for him. He had
certainly visited them, and had written the Life of
St. Ninian, the founder of the See. It seems that
he even knew the dialect of this wild region, for the
original life of the Saint was in their language. At all
events, all Scotland had heard of the holy Abbot of
Rievaux, who had once been high steward to King
David ; and Fergus, the chieftain of Galloway, knew
very well who he was when he saw the white habit
approach this mountain fastness. Aelred negotiated
a permanent peace with the dangerous chief. This
was a strange diplomacy, but a most successful one.
Fergus surrendered himself into the hands of Mal-
colm, but instead of being put to death for his revolt,
he was allowed to take the habit of a canon in the
monastery of the Holyrood, at Edinburgh.

This is almost the last of the scanty notices of
Aelred's life which have been left on record. In
the same year in which he rendered this signal
service to Scotland, occurred the council of Pavia,
and in his sermons to the brethren in the Advent of
that year, he mourns bitterly over the miserable
schism which was dividing the Church, and declares

THE CISTERCIAN ABBOT 185

his unshaken adherence to Alexander. The whole
Cistercian order was interested in the contest, for
their brethren in Germany were suffering persecu-
tion at the hands of Frederic for their fidelity to
the rightful successor of St. Peter. There is a deep
and almost prophetic melancholy about the words
of Aelred to his monks, when he applies the words
of the prophet Isaiah to his own times, " Behold the
day of the Lord cometh, the sun shall be darkened
in his going forth, and the moon shall not cause
her light to shine." " Ah ! brethren," he says, " the
Lord hath created two great lights in the firmament
of the holy Church, the priesthood and the kingdom.
The greater light is the priesthood to rule the day
— that is, spiritual things ; the lesser light is the
kingdom, to rule the night of worldly things. It is
an unnatural thing if the sun rule the night, if the
priest should draw over the clear light of his con-
science, the night of worldly matters ; or if the moon
should rule the day, the king should meddle with
the administration of the sacraments." And thus
in words rather of sorrow than of anger, he bids
the bishops of the time remember St. Dunstan and
St. Cuthbert. The contest between Henry and the
Church had not yet begun ; St. Thomas was not
yet Archbishop ; but in Aelred's mournful words,
in which he asks the courtier prelates of the time,
how they could be martyrs who were ambitious and
ashamed of poverty, it might seem as if he foresaw
how in time of persecution they would fall away, as
indeed they did. And again, in the same sorrowful
manner he speaks of the kingly power, " Then shall
the moon be turned into blood when the hands

186 ST. AEURED

of the prince are full of blood, when they take away
the right of the just man, and follow not equity,
but their own lusts and anger." Both Henry and
the prelate, to whom these sermons are dedicated,
Gilbert Foliot, the memorable Bishop of London,
might have taken warning by these words.

Aelred, too, in the same discourses, takes a long
farewell of his brethren, as he was setting out to
the general chapter of the year at Citeaux. He
seems to feel that his life was precarious, and he
bids his children pray for him, " for it is my wish," he
says, " to lay down among you the tabernacle of my
flesh, and pour out my spirit in your hands, that
you may close the eyes of your father, and my
bones may be laid in the grave under your eyes."
He wished that his tomb, with his crosier sculptured
on it, should catch the eyes of his brethren, that
they might say a prayer for Abbot Aelred, as
they passed it in chapter. Aelred might well fear
when he was going on so long a journey, lest he
should never see Rievaux again ; for many years
before his death, one account says ten, he was
afflicted with a terrible chronic disease, apparently
the stone. He did, however, return from Citeaux,
and lived for six years after this journey ; but they
were years of pain and of living death. Very little
is known of this period of his life except that he
suffered, and that he died. He does not appear to
have given up his functions, at least in the commence-
ment of his disease, for the journeys both to Gallo-
way and to Burgundy come within the period of his
sufferings ; and to the last he seems to have been able
to celebrate mass, but at times his pains were most

THE CISTERCIAN ABBOT 187

acute. One account represents him as sitting on a
mat before the fire, with his head between his knees,
bowed down with pain ; and during the year before
his death, after celebrating mass, he used to remain
for a whole hour on his bed, unable to speak or
move. Still his spirit rose above his wasted and
emaciated body ; he spent his time in constant
prayer and meditation on the Holy Scriptures. He
had said before, in sermons preached in the begin-
ning of his disorder, " Brethren, I tell you, no
misfortune can I suffer, nothing sad or bitter arise,
which by the opening of the Holy Scriptures can-
not be made to vanish, or be borne with greater
ease. How often, sweet Jesus, does my day turn
into evening ; how often does intolerable pain, like
the darkness of night, succeed to the feeble light
of consolation. All things become tasteless ; all
that I see is a burthen to me. But I go to medi-
tate in Thy fields, I turn over the sacred page,
then does Thy grace, sweet Jesus, drive away the
darkness with its light, do away with weariness,
and then do tears succeed to groans, and heavenly
joy follows tears." St. Augustine's Confessions was
also always in his hands ; tears were ever flowing
from his eyes, and his thoughts were ever fixed
on his Lord, for whom he had given up all things
earthly. It was no wonder, that while he thus
only held to earth by a body which was a perpetual
crucifixion to him, the brethren, as they passed the
cell of their father, heard his voice speaking, and
other voices answering, which by their sweetness
they took to be those of angels. At length, about
the feast of the blessed St. Laurence, whose martyr-

188 ST. AELRED

dom he had so long imitated by his patient endur-
ance of excruciating pain, his loving and gentle
spirit was released from its sufferings, to the presence
of Him whom he had seen on earth, reflected, how-
ever darkly, in the glass of love.1

When the news of Aelred's death came to the
Abbey of Swineshead, in Lincolnshire, Gilbert, the
Abbot, was preaching on that verse of the Song
of Solomon, " I am come into my garden, my sister,
my spouse ; I have gathered my myrrh with my
spice ; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey ;
I have drank my wine with my milk." Gilbert was
Aelred's friend, and knew him well, and broke forth
into these words, " Large and copious is that honey-
comb, which in these days has passed to the banquet
of the Lord, I mean the lord Abbot of Rievaux,
news of whose death has been brought to us, while
we are commenting on this passage. Methinks that
in him, now that he has been taken away, this
garden of ours has been laid bare, and a large bundle
of its myrrh has been gathered by the Lord, its
husbandman. No such honeycomb is now left in
our hive. Who more pure in his life, more wise in
his doctrine? Who more suffering in body, more

1 1166 is the common date given for St. Aelred's death; but the
Chronicle of Melrose gives 1167 ; and in the account of Byland Abbey,
given in Dugdale, it appears that the year 1197 was the thirtieth year
after his death. He is commonly said to have died on the I2th of
January, but the reason of this is probably because his festival was
appointed for that day ; no contemporary authority fixes it to that
time, while Gilbert, of Hoyland, in a sermon delivered in the octave
of the feast of St. Laurence, says that St. Aelred had died "in these
days," and that the news had just reached him. It should be added
that in a martyrology put out by Benedict XIV., St. Aelred's feast
is appointed to be kept in March.

THE CISTERCIAN ABBOT 189

unwearied in spirit ! His mouth, like the honeycomb,
poured forth the words of honied wisdom. His flesh
was sick with a lingering disease, but his soul within
him dwelt with a lingering love on heavenly things.
While his flesh, on fire with pain, was burning like
myrrh, his soul was on fire with a flame, fed with
the precious gum of charity ; and both together
rose up in a perpetual incense of unwearied love.
His body was shrivelled and wasted, but his soul
was filled with marrow and fatness ; therefore will
he ever praise the Lord with joyful lips. His
mouth was like an honeycomb, dropping honey,
for with his whole soul on his lips he used to pour
forth the calm feelings of his heart, with his coun-
tenance serene, and his measured gestures indicating
inward peace. His intellect was clear, and his speech
thoughtful. He was modest in his questions, and
more modest in his answers. Patiently did he bear
with those who were troublesome, although himself
a trouble to none ; and while he was acute in seeing
what was wrong, he was long before he noticed it,
and patient in bearing it. Often have I seen him,
when any of those who sat near him broke rudely
on his words, suspend what he had to say, till the
other had wasted his breath ; and then when the
rude torrent of wearisome speech was passed, he
would take up again his words where he had left
them off, with the same calmness as he had waited.
He was swift to hear and slow to speak. Not
that he could be said to be slow to wrath, for he
had no wrath at all. A sweet honeycomb was he
of whom I speak, overflowing with the honey
which was within. His mind was full of cells, and

190 ST. AELRED

he dropped his sweetness everywhere, from the
comb where he had stored up matter for what he
said ; and many men are living still who have
tasted of his sweetness. In his doctrine he looked
not for that wearisome subtlety which has more
to do with disputation than instruction. Moral
science was what he studied and put out in elegant
words ; he was well versed also in the language
of the spiritual life, which he was wont to explain
among those who were perfect. His doctrine was
milk for the consolation of the simple, with which
however, he often mixed the wine of words, which
rejoiced the heart So did his teaching, though
simple as milk, carry away the hearts of his hearers
as though they were drunk with the wine of spiritual
gladness. We must mourn that such a man has been
taken from us, but still we may rejoice that we have
sent forth such a bundle of myrrh from our poor
gardens, to the garden of heaven. There he is now
an ornament, who was a help to us upon earth."

This is a portrait of St. Aelred, for so we may
now call him, drawn by one who knew him, while
the recollection was fresh upon him. It may help us
to get a clear idea even of his features, pallid and
drawn as they were by sickness ; and at all events it
gives a vivid picture of his mind, pouring itself out
in little offices of love, notwithstanding his pains of
body. Every history and every tradition presents the
same idea, and marks him as the holy and loving
Abbot, well skilled in healing hearts broken by grief,
or wounded by sin. Others come down to us as holy
Bishops, Martyrs, or Confessors, but St. Aelred was
pre-eminently the Abbot of England.

CHAPTER IX

CISTERCIAN TEACHING

THOUGH we have now gone through the life of St.
Aelred, as far as time has spared it, and we may
look upon the blessed Saint as having gone to his
rest, yet in one sense he still lives to us, not only
by his intercessions but in his writings, which have
remained to us. He is the great Cistercian writer
of England, and in this point of view we have still
to look upon not only himself, but the whole in-
tellectual movement of which he was a portion.
At first sight, it would seem as if Cistercians had
little or nothing to do with literature or philosophy.
It was by giving up worldly studies that both St.
Bernard and St. Aelred became Cistercians ; and
philosophy was a portion of the sacrifice which
they made to God on assuming the white habit.1
St. Bernard left the schools of Chatillon to go to
Citeaux ; he had there been the best poet in the
school,2 and the many quotations from the classics
found in his writings, show what he really had
given up in sacrificing his taste and intellect to
religion ; and the same was the case with St. Aelred.
The only case in which a Cistercian was allowed

1 Vit. St. Bern. lib. i. I.

2 Berengar. Apol. St. Bernard often quotes Persius.

191

UBRARY ST. MARY'S COLLEGE

192 ST. AELRED

to pursue regular studies, after becoming a monk,
was that of Otto l of Frisingen, and he, when he
became a princely Bishop, retained much more of
the scion of the house of Hohenstauffen, than of
the pupil of St. Stephen. It is remarkable, too,
that the scholars at Paris at first listened unmoved
to St. Bernard's eloquence, and to the rough
syllogisms which he propounded to them on their
violation of God's holy law ; Mount St. Genevieve
and Citeaux seem from the first to have been in
secret opposition.2 Still the Cistercian reform seemed
likely to go on its own way, without clashing directly
with the schools, had not St. Bernard been forced
out of his cloister of Clairvaux, to oppose the
rationalism which was dominant within them, in
the person of Abelard. Europe might have antici-
pated its history by four centuries had it not been
for St. Bernard. Abelard's was not a clear and
distinct heresy, which could be put in a tangible
shape like the Arian or Nestorian. It was a wide-
spreading rationalism, sound only by accident on
any point, and claiming exemption from all con-
demnation, on the ground that it was only one
way of putting Christianity. It was no heresy, was
its plea, but a bright and dazzling display of in-
tellectual activity. The human mind had just
awakened from a long sleep, and had become more

1 Otto never misses an opportunity of bringing in metaphysics in his
History of Frederic Barbarossa. He evidently thought that Gilbert
de la Poree had been harshly treated. It should be said for him that
he died at Morimond, and on his death-bed protested his submission
to the Church in all that he had said about Gilbert.

2 Exord. Mag. b. vii. 13, and Vincent of Beauvais quoted in Man-
riquez in ann. 1122.

CISTERCIAN TEACHING 193

philosophical. It had learned not only its Horace
and its Virgil, but its Aristotle too, and it must not
be stinted in the use of its newly-found treasures.

Now it was true, to a certain extent, that the
twelfth century was the beginning of a new intel-
lectual era ; things immediately before it had been
dark, not that God had ever suffered His truth to
be darkened in His church, but that it was many
centuries before the barbarians, who had seized on
the Western empire, had leisure to spare for learn-
ing, sacred or profane. The Church had enough
to do to teach them the faith. She had to fight
hard to prevent herself being merged in the body
politic, into which, with desperate throes, society
was forming itself. But when once that struggle
was over, and the crosier was clearly separated
from the sceptre, then began a more fearful struggle.
Men had leisure to philosophise upon the faith
which they had learned, and just at that time a
great revival of ancient learning took place. Aris-
totle and Plato symbolised for them what had lain
undeveloped in their minds ; here were categories
formed, and genera and species classified. They
thought that they had got a new organ for the
discovery of truth. It was a new field, like an un-
known world, a crusade into the regions of thought.
The syllogistic form was given, and matter was all
that was to be found. They were not slow in finding
it; there was matter enough for dispute in their
new philosophy itself. Poor human nature ! hardly
had it obtained possession of its new treasure, when
it began to doubt of its reality. There were genera
and species in plenty; but how far were they the

VOL. V. N

194 ST. AELRED

real representation of external objects, or only our
way of viewing them? It was an important ques-
tion ; it was asking, in fact, whether our idea of
external things was the true one ; or in the words
of modern philosophy, how much was objective, how
much subjective truth. But Clairvaux and Rievaux
had nothing to do with either Realism or Nominal-
ism, and we pass them by. As long as the schools
confined themselves to metaphysics, their din prob-
ably did not even reach the Cistercian cloister. But
in the middle ages, men were not Realists and
Nominalists by halves, many of them pushed their
principles into their notions of the Blessed Trinity
itself. It was a fearful moment for the church.
Here was humanity exulting in the discovery of
a class of truths which it had forgotten. It was
leaping with somewhat fantastic gestures about its
new domain, when it came across it to inquire
whether it was quite lawful ground. Certain it
was that Nominalism, when applied to the highest
Christian doctrine, became a sort of Sabellianism,1
and Realism took the form of a new and nameless
heresy. Here then was truth, as they thought,
meeting truth face to face, and the fear or doubt
presented itself with which they were to side.

At this juncture, there arose a man who attempted
to reconcile, after his fashion, the Church and the
intellect of the age. This man was Peter Abelard,
who is to be considered as the personification of the
bold and restless acuteness of the schools, as well
as of the worldly-spirited clerks of the time.2 This

1 Petavius calls it the heresy of the Nominalists.

2 He'loise says to him, Quid te Canonicum et Clericum facere
oportet. c. vii. Hist. Calam. Tanti quippe tarn nominis eram et

CISTERCIAN TEACHING 195

novel doctor was a canon of the Church, and at the
same time a gay and handsome cavalier, whose love-
songs and dialectics were equally in fashion. His
first exploit was to banish from the schools the
Realism which he found there. All was plain and
easy to him ; the ideas of the soul were but arbitrary
classifications emanating from itself; they were real
as conceptions, but nothing more. In this way it
would follow, that rationality was no more the
essence of man than the power of laughing, and
it was only in our way of looking upon it, that either
could be the differentia of the class.1 Abelard
gained his point ; he completely won the day, and
beat his master, William of Champeaux, out of the
field ; but he did not see that, like all other Rational-
ism, his system introduced a scepticism far deeper
than itself. He did not see, that come what may
of it, our ideas are the way in which we view the
external world, and if they are merely arbitrary, and
not in some way a representation of the truth, then
we know nothing of any object beyond ourselves.
However, as yet, he was but the bold and successful
innovator, the idol of the schools, the triumphant
logician ; but when he afterwards hid his head in
the cloister of St. Denis, when H61oise, with bitter
regrets for the world which she was leaving,2 had

juventutis et formse gratia preeminebam, ut quamcunque foeminarum
nostro dignarer amore, nullam vererer repulsam. c. vi. Quorum etiam
carminum plerisque adhuc regionibus decantantur. Ibid.

1 Abelard seems to say this when he makes each individual to have
his own form ; for instance, in the language of the times, he makes
Socratitas to be the form of Socrates. This is true in one sense, but
he seems to deny that humanitas is, in any real sense, his form, and he
makes a separate form for each part, rationalitas, bipedalitas, etc.

2 Tua me ad habitum traxit passio, non Dei dilectio. Ep. 4.

ST. AELRED

taken the veil at Argenteuil, then the conceited
logician became the dangerous theologian. He
must needs remodel theology! the old school was
worn out.1 It was founded on faith ; Plato and
Aristotle would laugh at such a religion, and Abelard
was ashamed of it. He would have a new religion
founded on irrefragable argument, to suit the philo-
sophic mind.2 Thus he strove to allay the sudden
recoil of his contemporaries upon themselves, the
fright of humanity balancing between its reason and
its faith. Two great schoolmen made shipwreck
of their faith ; this he was not disposed to do, for
with his great and glaring faults, his overweening
conceit, and his whole soul still scarred with sins,
and, as yet, unhealed by his forced repentance, still,
to do him justice, he would have been orthodox if
he could. He therefore wished to make out that
faith and reason were identical. He bade the youth-
ful schoolmen, the men of march of mind, go on
and prosper. There was no cause for alarm. The
Christian was after all the great logician, and faith
only an intellectual opinion about things unseen.3
They need have no divided love between Aristotle

1 He tries to prove by the example of St. Paul that difficulty of faith
is a merit. Cito autem sive facile credit qui indiscrete atque improvide
his quse scivit prius acquisivit quam hoc in quod persuadetur ignota
ratione quantum valet discutiat an adhibere ei fidem conveniat. Introd.
adTheol. 1060.

2 Abelard is continually inconsistent with himself, often using
orthodox language, and protesting that he means nothing against the
faith of the Church, while his words are glaringly opposed to it. On
his inconsistency, see St. Bernard's Letter to Innocent.

* Abelard Op. vol. i. 3, 28. Ed. Amb. Verbum Dei quod Graeci
Xd-yov vocant, solum Christum dicimus. Hinc et juxta nominis ety-
mologiam, quicunque huic vero Verbo inherent vere Logici sunt. In

CISTERCIAN TEACHING 197

and Christianity. Plato indeed was a Christian, and
a much better one than Moses and the Prophets,
for he had foreseen and made out for himself the
doctrine of the Holy Trinity.1

Oh, foolish Abelard ! he did not know what he
himself was doing. If the human intellect could
make out the blessed truth for itself, how knew he
that it was not the creator of it? How knew he
that the doctrine of the ever-blessed Trinity itself
was not an emanation from the mind of man, framing
to itself its own conception of the supreme good?2
If he had looked on a few centuries, he would have
seen in the same way a certain philosophy make
out that the existence of God might be but the
product of the human intellect at play with its own
notions. But intellect itself would have told him
that such matters were not within its jurisdiction ;
it can mount up indeed through earth and heaven
up to the nature of God Himself; but it can only
say that such things as it conceives, may be. To
rule that they are, is not its office. And so almost
by the force of reason, Abelard was compelled to

another place, Charitas Dei per fid em sive rationis donum infusa.
Introd. ad Theol. 1027.

1 Dum multum sudat quo modo Platoneum faciat Christianum, se
probat Ethnicum. St. Bern, de err. Ab. c. iv. v. Martenne Thes.
nov. Anecd. 5. p. 1152.

2 Abelard does seem to say so of the Holy Trinity. Videtur autem
nobis suprapositis personarum nominibus summi boni perfectio dili-
genter esse descripta ; ut cum videlicet prsedicatur Deum esse Pater
et Filius et Spiritus Sanctus, eum summum bonum atque in omnibus
perfectum hac distinctione Trinitatis intelligamus. Introd. I, 7. It
may, however, be said of Abelard, that in other places he neutralises
what at first sight seems Sabellianism. The language of a late bio-
grapher of St. Bernard, who almost makes Abelard his hero, is more
unequivocally wrong.

198 ST. AELRED

say that in his Introduction to Theology he did not
profess to give the truth, but only his opinion of it.
His Theology was a mere intellectual exercise, a
keen encounter of wits, like a disputation in the
schools. Faith itself he defined to be an opinion on
things unseen. It happened to Abelard as might
have been expected ; his reason broke under the
gigantic task, like an inapt instrument applied to
a work which it was never meant to perform. In
the attempt to explain the doctrines of the Church
in perfect conformity with human reason, he ex-
plained them away.1 By another natural and almost
logical consequence of his attempt, he not only
shook the certainty of the faith, but he erred
grievously in his exposition of it. And no wonder,
authority to the theologian is what axioms and
postulates are to the mathematician. It contains
the data, without which he cannot stir a step. He
then that would enfranchise theology from authority,
must enfranchise Christianity from revelation ; and
freedom from the Church in theology is like freedom
from numbers in arithmetic. If Abelard had, on
throwing away authority, become a sceptic, he would
at least have been consistent ; but to throw it away
and to expect to do as well without it was folly indeed.
Abelard was half conscious of his inconsistency,
and felt it necessary to defend himself. How
can we believe, he says, what we do not under-
stand?2 The Church, by putting its doctrine into

1 Existimatio non apparentium. Introd. ad Theol. p. 977, 1061.
Non tarn nos veritatem dicere quam opinionis nostrse sensum quern
efflagitant promulgare, p. 974, v. also 1047.

2 Quid ad doctrinam proficit, si quod loqui volumus exponi non
potest ut intelligatur. 985.

CISTERCIAN TEACHING 199

words, presents them to our understanding, and
the Holy Fathers have used similes and metaphors,
so as to bring them down to the level of our
thoughts and to confute reasoners. Why then
might not the phraseology and the metaphors be
perfect expressions of what they meant, if they
were to be used at all? And this was what he
attempted to do ; he tried to make ecclesiastical
phraseology more intellectual, under the notion that
unless it was a perfect expression of divine things,
it must be false. And he proceeds to attack St.
Augustine, St. Hilary, and St. Anselm, for using
imperfect metaphors on the subject of the Trinity
and the Incarnation.1 But the Blessed Saints
knew far better than Abelard, how imperfect were
their words ; 2 but they had to choose between say-
ing that truth was unattainable, or that it was
attainable as far as we can bear. The comparisons
which they used were not mere metaphors, but a
tracing out, in the creation, of shadows and types,
of which God is the reality and the antitype. So
too, human terminology, even though used by the
Church, can but most faintly express the nature
of the Incomprehensible Godhead, which eludes
the grasp of words and ideas. And yet words
are expressions of ideas, and ideas are expres-
sions of the truth. Categories are the laws of

1 Of St. Anselm he has the impudence to say, St. Anselmi similitude
suffragatur hseresi. 1085.

2 Tendebam in Deum et offendi in meipsum. St. Ans. Proslog. I.
Ego certi scio quam multa figmenta pariat cor humanum, et quid est
cor meum nisi cor humanum. de Trin. 4, i. Jam de iis quae nee
dicuntur ut cogitantur, nee cogitantur ut sunt, respondere incipiamus.
De Trin. 5, 4.

200 ST. AELRED

our thoughts, and every man knows what he
means when he uses the terms Substance and
Relation. They are our way of viewing things,
but they are real though they are ours. Much
more when used of the everlasting God are they
real and objective. God is a Substance in a higher
and truer sense than we can know, and the eternal
Relations between the Persons of the adorable
Trinity are not mere notions of our minds, but
real and true in a transcendent sense surpassing
all human thought.

Abelard therefore was wrong in supposing, that
because ecclesiastical phraseology was imperfect,
that therefore it was false. On the contrary, since
God is incomprehensible, Abelard's notion of the
divine nature was necessarily false, since it pretended
to be perfect. Again, he could never be sure that
in adoring God, he was not in reality worshipping
his own conception of the Deity, for on his own
showing it might be an idea created by his intellect.
But St. Augustine and St. Anselm knew that they
were adoring the one true and right conception of
Almighty God, which they had received from
without, from the Holy Church who had embodied
it in words. They therefore had a right to reason
upon the faith, which Abelard had not ; for he
had no data on which to philosophise. Their aim
was to make the faith of the Church as intellectual
as that which is above intellect is capable of being ;
Abelard tried to reduce it to the perfect level of
the intellect, and after having fused it in this earthly
crucible, he found that it had become, not the
faith of the Church, but something else. But the

CISTERCIAN TEACHING 201

Saint of Hippo might be bold, for he had long
contemplated and adored the ever-blessed mystery,
and he knew by loving faith that his burning heart
looked not on an abstraction. The idea which he
had received from the Church had grown upon
him in beauty and intensity the more he had looked
upon it. He therefore knew well what he did, when
he answered the opponents of the blessed truth
by reasoning. He bade them look on their own
souls, and see whether they understood themselves ;
and after confounding them with their ignorance
of their own nature, he bids them not despair.1
Human nature is indeed a mystery, and yet it is
the image of God. It is not a mere simile, but
it is a true representation of God ; imperfect but
not unreal. It contains within itself a trinity, a
faint shadow of the everlasting Trinity ; yet shadow
though it be, it does give us a true insight, as far
it goes, of the adorable mystery. And after all
his efforts the Saint sinks upon his knees, and
confesses his inability to comprehend this mighty
Truth. So too St. Anselm ; 2 if by reason alone he
professed to seek for God, it was because he knew
that he had found Him already. To every word that
he used he communicated the intensity of his own
idea, so that they ceased to be mere words, and
received a reality which they did not possess in

1 Cum in his quse nostris corporalibus objacent sensibus, vel quod nos
ipsi in interiore homine sumus, scientia comprehendendis laboremus
nee sufficiamus, nee tamen impudenter in ilia quse supra sunt divina et
ineffabilia pietas fidelis ardescit. De Trin. 5. I.

2 Puto quia ea ipsa ex magna parte, si vel mediocris ingenii est potest
ipse sibi saltern sola ratione persuadere. — Monolog. i. Ratione ejus
(Roscellini) error demonstrandus est. De Fide in Trin. 3.

202 ST. AELRED

themselves. But Abelard was neither St. Augustine
nor St. Anselm, but only Peter Abelard. He did
not choose to be a Christian doctor, so he became
something very like a heretic ; and so he might
have died, had not St. Bernard arisen to save
him from becoming an heresiarch.

The first condemnation of Abelard at Soissons
did not proceed from St. Bernard. It seems to
have come from the teachers of the old school,
whose influence he had destroyed.1 His accusers
were no match for him in learning, and he con-
victed them of ignorance and mistakes in theology ;
and in the end he seems to have been condemned
in an arbitrary way. St. Bernard does not seem
at first to have been unfavourably disposed to
Abelard ; he visited the monastery of the Paraclete,
of which Heloise was Abbess, and which was under
Abelard's direction, and the nuns were rejoiced to
see him. He does not appear to have read his
works until they were sent to him by his friend
William of St. Thierry.2 " Of these things," he says

1 There seems no reason to doubt Abelard's own graphic account of
the council of Soissons, in his Historia Calamitatum. Berengarius's
attack upon the Bishops who were present cannot be trusted in detail,
from its manifest exaggeration, but its tone is that of a man attacking
the love of ease of a high and dry school in authority. Berengarius's
work is curious, as a specimen of a middle-age pamphlet. It is a
flippant and profane attack on St. Bernard, which its author was
obliged to defend in his maturer years by treating as a joke. Si
quid in personam hominis Dei dixi, joco legatur non serio. In the
same place, he excuses himself by saying that Aristotle attacked
Socrates, and St. Jerome attacked St. Augustine. Ep. 18, inter ep.
Abaci, vol. i.

2 It seems as if St. Bernard's attack on Abelard had been placed
rather too early. It is true that Abelard points him out as his op-
ponent before he became Abbot of St. Gildas, but from St. Bernard's

CISTERCIAN TEACHING 203

to William, " I have hardly heard anything." It
was during Lent that the Abbot's book came to
him, and he would not break off the quiet of the
season by plunging into Abelard's Introduction to
Theology. But when Lent was over, and he had
thoroughly examined the question, the whole im-
portance of the matter burst upon him. Abelard's
doctrines had spread far and wide ; men from all
parts of Europe flocked to his lectures ; his books
had crossed the seas, and were read beyond the
Alps. There was a dangerous Rationalism infecting
the intellectual youth of the rising generation. It
had even spread among the cardinals, and Abelard
had a party in the sacred college itself. It was
high time to oppose the evil ; and none was so
able to do so as St. Bernard. None had such an
instinctive perception of Christian doctrine, or was
more capable of laying his finger precisely on the
question at issue. It was not hard, therefore, for a
mind like his to see the shallowness of Abelard's
principles. Nothing is more certain than that
opinion and faith are not the same thing ; it is a
mere fact that the Saints are as sure of the reality
of their faith as of an object perceived by the senses,
while opinion, by its very nature, is not certainty.
And this was a fact which Abelard overlooked ;

own letters it is evident that he took no active part against him until
his return to France from Brittany. And certain it is, that the same
Abelard, apparently before he established himself permanently a second
time at the Paraclete, but certainly after his retirement to St. Gildas,
writes to St. Bernard about the Charitas qua me prsecipue amplecteris.
Abaci. Op. p. vol. i. p. 224. Again, William of Thierry finds it neces-
sary to exhort St. Bernard strongly not to allow affection to prevent his
taking an active part against Abelard.

204 ST. AELRED

whether rightly or wrongly, faith is entirely inde-
pendent of reason. Intellect, indeed, has a certainty
of its own in its own sphere, in matters which are
absolutely true or absolutely false ; but no one
would pretend that such is the case with the
subjects treated of in Christian doctrine, for they
are above intellect1 Abelard might, indeed, have
said that truth about the nature of God was un-
attainable on earth, but to say that it was attainable
by reason alone was manifestly untrue.

This was the moral of all Cistercian teaching, and
the history of their quarrel with the schools ; they
taught men to seek certainty elsewhere. " The
Spirit of God will lead you into all truth. What
means all Truth?" said a voice, heard one Advent
in the cloister of Rievaux. " It means that one
truth which makes all things true. For in one
sense, all things that are are true ; for whatever
is false is not at all. But that truth into which
the apostles were brought, was that in which all
things are, and which is in all things, in which
there is nothing false, nothing ambiguous, nothing
deceptive ; and this Truth is seen by the heart,
not by the flesh." And that this line of teaching
was the right one to save the age from Rationalism,
was proved by the event. Abelard's influence
melted before St. Bernard. He challenged the
Saint to dispute with him at the Council of
Soissons. St. Bernard at first refused to dispute
with one who had been trained to disputation
from his youth ; besides it was a question of

1 Quod intellexisti non est de eo quod ultra quseras, aut si est non
intellexisti. De Cons. 5, 3.

CISTERCIAN TEACHING 205

authority, not of disputation. At length, however,
when he found that the truth was likely to suffer
from his refusal, he consented, at the instance of
his friends, with tears in his eyes, determined,
according to our Lord's rule, not to think before-
hand what he should say. When the day came,
the town of Soissons was crowded with men from
all parts of France. The king and the Bishops
were there, and on the other hand the noisy and
tumultuous men of the schools, the partisans of
Abelard. All the world was there to witness the
encounter between the two first men of the age, the
representatives of opposite principles. To the surprise
of all, after St. Bernard had given an account of
the opinion to be canvassed, Abelard, instead of
replying, appealed to the Pope. Abelard had
himself given the challenge, and was not a man
wont to be intimidated. Besides, St. Bernard, who
once stopped a persecution raised against the Jews,
was not a likely man to allow any violence to be
used against Abelard's person, either by king or
populace. One account, however, says that he
appealed to Rome, from dread of a popular tumult.
Another account says, that when he attempted to
speak, his memory failed him and he could not
utter a word. Amidst these conflicting accounts,
it is safest to judge by the result. Abelard started
on his way to Rome to support the appeal which
he had made ; it was by no means a desperate
case, for he had, as has been noticed above, a party
in the Sacred College. But by the time that he
had got as far as Cluny, his heart had failed him ;
there appears in many passages of his writings a

206 ST. AELRED

hesitation, as though if he could but have reconciled
Aristotle and the Church, he would have been
orthodox ; his conscience was not at rest, and the
sight of St. Bernard at the council had awakened
it anew. His had been a long and weary life,
made up of headstrong passions and signal misfor-
tunes ; and his troubled spirit longed for rest.
When therefore the Abbot of Citeaux came to
Cluny, and offered to make his peace with St.
Bernard, Abelard was prepared to make a confession
of faith which was equivalent to a retractation of
his errors ; and when the Pope's letter arrived con-
demning his opinions, it found him already pre-
pared to submit. Abelard, broken in health and
spirit, lived for three years in the peaceful cloister
of Cluny, and died a sincere penitent in 1 142.

Thus most effectually did Cistercian teaching
fulfil its task. Abelard left no school behind him.
His work in the schools had been simply one of
destruction. His teaching had nothing positive ;
and when once he had hidden himself in the cloister
of Cluny, nothing more is heard of him.

It was easy therefore to confute Abelard so far j1
but St. Bernard had another task to perform. How
were the sons of the Church to recover a healthy
tone after being spoiled by this baneful teaching?2

1 St. Bernard went straight to the point when he attacked Abelard
as holding opinions contrary to reason, as well as to faith. Quid enim,
he says, magis contra rationem, quam ratione rationem conari trans-
cendere.

2 The Abbe Ratisbonne, in his beautiful Life of St. Bernard, com-
pares Abelard's doctrines to Kant's Antinomies of pure reason. This
is paying Abelard's philosophical powers a great compliment. He is
much more like Locke on the Reasonableness of Christianity.

CISTERCIAN TEACHING 207

For this purpose it was not enough to refute, or
even to substitute truth for error, they must also
learn to love the truth. And to effect this was the
object of all Cistercian teaching. A moral discipline
was required to heal the diseased will. With a
philosophy, in reality far deeper than that of
Abelard, though it did not profess to be philosophy
at all, St. Bernard made the acceptance of religious
truth to depend upon the will. Faith he defined
to be a willing and certain foretaste of a truth not
yet made manifest. Truth is offered for acceptance,
not to the intellect, but to the conscience. The
Church does for us the office of the intellect ; it
puts the faith for us into an intelligible form. And
so the creed, the intellectual object, as it may be
called, of our faith, comes to us from without. It
is a certain, definite, and substantive thing, embodied
in words by the Church, and coming to us in a
clear, unbroken sound, for the Church speaks but
one language. Just as words are to us the inter-
pretation of what we feel, by giving us a classific-
ation for our sensations, so do the words of the
Holy Church interpret for us what we know of God.
But St. Bernard went deeper than this ; the real
and heavenly object of our faith comes to us through
the Sacraments, and so God Himself is the real
cause of our knowledge of Him ; and it is love,
by which we are united to Him, which fills up, as
it were, the outline of the Church, and gives a
meaning to our imperfect words beyond what they
have of their own nature. Love, therefore, is the
proper antidote to Rationalism ; and St. Bernard
did much more towards healing the wounds of the

208 ST. AELRED

Church, when he preached his Sermons on the
Canticles, than when he refuted Abelard, in his
letter to Pope Innocent. Why, indeed, should he
seek by premiss and conclusion for Him whom he
has found already by love ? " To those who thus
seek him," says St. Bernard,1 " the Lord cries out,
Noli me tangere, Touch me not ; that is, Quit this
erring sense ; lean on the Word, learn to go by
faith : faith, which cannot err ; which seizes on
what is invisible, feels not the need of sense, passes
the bounds of human reason, the use of nature, the
bonds of experience. Why ask the eye for what
it cannot see? Why stretch forth the hand to
grope for what is above it? Let faith pronounce
of me what is not unworthy of my majesty. Learn
to hold for certain, to follow in safety, what it
teaches thee. Touch me not ; for I have not yet
ascended to my Father. As if when He has once
ascended, He would either be willing to be loved,
or we capable of touching him. Yea, but thou
shalt be capable, by love, not by the touch ; by
desire, not by the eye ; by faith, not by sense.
Faith in the depth of its mystic bosom comprehends
what is the length and breadth, and depth and
height. Thou shalt touch Him with the hand of
faith, the finger of desire, the embrace of devotion ;
thou shalt touch Him with the eye of the heart.
And will He then be black?2 Nay, the beloved
is white and red. Beautiful exceedingly is He who
is surrounded with the red flowers of the rose and
the white lily of the valleys, that is, the choirs of
martyrs and of virgins ; and who, sitting in the

1 In Cant. 28. 2 Song of Solomon, i. 5.

CISTERCIAN TEACHING 209

midst of them, is himself both a virgin and a martyr.
Ten thousand times ten thousand are around
Him, but needest thou fear lest thou shouldst
mistake some other for Him, when thou seekest
Him whom thou lovest ? Nay, thou wilt not
hesitate whom to select out of them all. Easily
wilt thou recognise Him out of the thousands more
beautiful than all ; and thou wilt say, This is He
that is glorious in His apparel, travelling in the
multitude of His strength."

Before such teaching as this, no wonder that
Rationalism fled away ; cold and dead as it is, it
cannot hold before warmth and life. But Cister-
cian teaching had a great influence on the Church
after it. Its opposition to the scholastic method
was most salutary ; it gave a breathing time to
the Church, and prepared it to receive the teaching
of the great schoolmen of the thirteenth century.
The church was not yet ready for the schools, or
rather the schools were not ready for the church ;
men must learn to love the truth before they can
safely philosophise upon it. St. Bernard and St.
Aelred were not mere negative opponents of Ration-
alism ; there is a great deal of positive theology in
their works, dressed in the commanding eloquence
of St. Bernard and the sweet language of St.
Aelred. No one can read the masterly refutation
of the Errors of Gilbert de la Poree without
wondering at the acuteness as well as the deep
knowledge of theology possessed by St. Bernard,
the more wonderful because Gilbert's errors belong
rather to the Pantheism of the thirteenth than to
the Rationalism of the twelfth century. The ques-

VOL. v. o

210 ST. AELRED

tions so beautifully treated of in the Sermons on
the Canticles are precisely the same as those which
appear in the Summa of St. Thomas, how the
nature of God is very oneness, and there is noth-
ing accidental in Him, how angels see all things
in the Word, how the soul of man is naturally
eternal, how grace differs from the substance of
the soul. In St. Aelred the same thing is observ-
able ; none can help being struck with his clear
and orthodox language on the subject of the In-
carnation, while he rejects what he calls scholastic
subtleties. The influence of St. Anselm is very
easily to be traced in his writings, so that in some
parts of his Mirror of Charity he is much more
of a schoolman than St. Bernard. Still it is true
that the office of the Cistercians was to oppose
the scholastic philosophy, which the age could not
as yet bear. Citeaux purified the schools by keeping
aloof from them ; it was reserved for another order
to make an inroad into the schools themselves, and
to purify them by establishing Christ's banner in
the midst of them, and marking them with His cross.
Thus God ever in His goodness provides for the
wants of the Church. First came St. Anselm, the
saintly philosopher, to stir up the intellect of the
Church ; and then St. Bernard and St. Aelred to
check the pride of intellect, and then last of all
the great Saint, who could safely doubt of all, for j
he knew beforehand how to solve all doubts at the
foot of the crucifix, St. Thomas Aquinas.

LIFE OF

ST. NINIAN

BISHOP OF CANDIDA CASA

AND APOSTLE OF THE SOUTHERN PICTS

CIRC. A.D. 360-432

ADVERTISEMENT

OUR knowledge of St. Ninian is chiefly owing to
the Life of him by St. Aelred, which has been princi-
pally followed in these pages. Its genuineness was,
indeed, questioned by the Bollandists, but apparently
without any reason. It has been uniformly referred
to as St. Aelred's by a long chain of English writers,
nor is there any other known as such. The copy in
the Bodleian Library is part of a MS. (Laud 668)
containing works undoubtedly his, which was written
within twenty years after his death ; and one in the
British Museum (MSS. Cotton. Tib. D. 3), of the close
of the twelfth or beginning of the thirteenth century,
distinctly attributes the authorship to him. The chief
reason assigned by the Bollandists for doubting its
genuineness is, that the opening words of their copy,
which they do not quote, are not the same as those
given by Pitseus as St. Aelred's. His words are
" Multorum bonorum virorum." Those at the be-
ginning of the Prologus in our MSS. are " Multis
virorum sapientium." The difference is so slight
that it would seem most probable, and from other
considerations it is almost certain, that the person
who made the copy for the Bollandists, overlooked,
as he might easily do, the Prologus, and began with

2i4 ADVERTISEMENT

the Life, of which the first words are, " Gloriosissimam
beati Niniani " ; since in other respects their MS.
appears to have been the same as ours.

The Service of St. Ninian's Day, from the Aber-
deen Breviary, was not seen until this Life had nearly
passed through the press. The historical references
coincide almost entirely with what had been written,
being derived for the most part from St. Aelred's
Life. The only points which call for notice are, that
the words "patriae pater genuit patronum," which
occur in a Responsary, look as if the Saint was con-
sidered to be a native of Galloway ; and that the
" brother," mentioned as the companion of his journey-
ing, is called " collega," as if he had been a brother of
his monastery, not a relation.

LIFE OF
ST. NINIAN

CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION

How many of us have never heard of St. Ninian !
How many, on hearing of him, would carelessly put
aside the thought of his history, as a matter of no
concern, as a tale of former days, of what once was,
and is no longer, in any way which connects him
with us, or us with him. But this is a thoughtless
way of viewing any subject. All things may be
connected one with another ; the works of former
times may have exercised an influence which still
lives. Still more is this the case with Saints. The
world passes away, and the works of the world, and
men, so far as they are of the world, and unite
themselves with the world, pass with it ; but they
who are gifted with divine life, and united to Christ,
abide for ever ; now more truly living than when
the world saw them.

If there be one whom the Church has recognised
as a Saint, there is a work of Divine Grace at which

215

2i6 ST. NINIAN

we should pause, and turn aside, and view with
reverend awe ; there is a child of Adam renewed
in the Divine image ; one in whom a work has
been wrought, which is begun in many and per-
fected in few. His history, could we see it as it is
— his inward history — how eventful would it be;
how many a crisis would it involve ! What motions
of Divine grace — what watchful Providences — what
a correspondence on his own part to the calls of
Heaven ! What a precious tale of deeds and suffer-
ings, of watchfulness and self-restraint, of prayers
and heavenly aspirations ! How intense is the in-
terest excited by examining some work of human
skill, and tracing its beauty, or contrivance, or
finished art ! How full are the natural works of
God of all that is calculated to engage our attention,
to awaken surprise, delight, and admiration. With
how much more of deep feeling then should we
view the spiritual creation, and trace out there the
workings of providence and the effects of grace.
Beautiful as is the natural world, the fair budding
of spring, and the grass and trees, and the clear
shining after rain, they are but faint images indeed
of holy men, and of their varied graces, whose
sweetness Scripture shadows out by the choicest
objects of sense. And as we gratefully commemorate
the glory and goodness of God, as shown in these
passing works, still more should the manifold and
abiding graces of His Elect call forth our thankful-
ness and praise.

But, it may be said, little is known of St. Ninian.
It is true. Yet this might almost enhance our interest
in him, and our wish to know that little. How many

INTRODUCTION 217

are there in every rank of life who pass from this
world unrecognised, save by a few, yet high in the
Divine favour and of great attainments in sanctity.
That Saints should be distinguished in any marked
way, seems to be owing to (what we may call) the
accident of their being brought by circumstances
into positions which have elicited their hidden graces,
and manifested them to the world. But as their
holiness is independent of its visible effects, so those
effects are no measure of it. By the world, men
are estimated for their influence on its fortunes ;
and in proportion as they have influenced it, is the
degree of honour assigned them. But sanctity is
independent of such outward manifestations or visible
fruits. Though, in St. Ninian's case, if we believe
those who in olden time so greatly venerated this
holy man, there were not wanting abundant sensible
tokens of his power and prevailing intercession.
Even Protestant writers 1 allow that he had the gift
of miracles, and the numerous worshippers at his
shrine, three or four hundred years ago, believed,
and would allege facts in proof, that they received
blessings, even miraculous ones, through his prayers
availing with God.

Among ourselves, there has been a long suspen-
sion of that everlasting remembrance in which the
righteous ought to be held, that affectionate in-
terest with which we ought to cherish those who
in their day have laboured for the Church, and
been marked by special gifts of grace. But it is
not many centuries since the name of St. Ninian
was one of the most honoured in the Calendar,

1 The Magdeburg Centuriators, torn. 4, 1429.

218 ST. NINIAN

and people flocked from every part of the island
to visit his shrine. His memory has, indeed, had
singular reverses. From the fifth to the twelfth
century, it was scarcely known beyond the limits
of the wild district where he had laboured and
died. The only records of him were in the
memory of his people, or written in a barbarous
and unknown language. The succession of his See
was interrupted. Successive tribes of uncivilised
Celts occupied his country, and seemed to have
obliterated almost every vestige of his earthly
labours. But seven centuries passed, and his
memory rose from its obscurity ; his power was
recognised, his shrine was frequented, and his in-
tercessions sought. Amid the wild wars of Scotland
and the Border, a safe conduct was provided for
pilgrims who were visiting his church, and kings
sought his prayers. Their piety was mixed, doubt-
less, according to the character of individuals, with
even the grossest superstition ; still it implied a
general recognition of his sanctity ; and the reason
they would themselves have given of this devotion
was, that they had experienced blessings through
it ; and that such was, in some instances, at least,
the case, is the most natural and obvious account
of the matter.

That little should have been known of his history
need not surprise us. He lived in a dark period of
British history, and laboured among a rude people.
In the centuries following his death, Galloway was
the scene of frequent wars, and changed its masters
and its inhabitants. The Southern Picts whom he
had converted were in time merged among the other

INTRODUCTION 219

races who inhabited the east of Scotland, and it was,
as to the world's history, as if he had never lived.
But this is not different from what we might expect.
Of how many other distinguished Saints have few
traces been left in history ! Of how many of the
holy Apostles is it merely recorded that they
preached the gospel in certain remote districts, and
were martyred ! Of the fruits of their preaching,
of the Churches they founded, no certain vestiges
remain. Yet their names are written in heaven ;
their works are recorded there ; and the souls who,
through their means, though of distant ages and
of barbarous languages, were brought into that
Communion, where all learn one language, and
are formed after one model, and are brethren and
fellow-countrymen in Christ, are blessing and prais-
ing God for the mercy he showed in their conver-
sion. It may be to the increase of their blessedness
to be thus humbled ; to have their works hidden
from the world ; that having no reward of human
praise here, they may enjoy a more ample recom-
pense in heaven.

Do not think slightingly then of St. Ninian be-
cause he is little known ; but rather let us trace out
with reverential love what may be learnt of him.
We know more of him, and on better authority,
than we do of many more exalted Saints ; and if
in searching out what may be known of him, we
seem to be led into dry and antiquarian matter, let
it not be an ungrateful labour. It may be repaid
by the contemplation of his graces.

And there are circumstances which give a peculiar
interest to St. Ninian. Besides his being one of our

220 ST. NINIAN

own Saints, and the earliest Missionary, and first
Bishop in Scotland of whom we have any authentic
record, he lived at a time when there was a change
taking place in the mode in which conversions to
the faith were made. The barbarous nations were
now pouring in upon the Christians, and threaten-
ing the destruction of the empire of the Church, as
though it were not Christ's. St. Ninian was one of
the first of those who turned back the arms of the
invaders, and reduced them by meekness and truth,
under the gentle and happy sway of the gospel.
Again, conversions had hitherto been of individuals,
now they became national ; that of the Picts was
one of the first. And the system on which mis-
sions were conducted in the countries of Europe
found one of their earliest types in him.

It may, indeed, very naturally be asked, what
do we really know of this ancient Saint, and, con-
sidering his age, country, and circumstances, what
authentic records can there be of the events of his
life?

Of the history of Britain at that time (the close
of the fourth and early part of the fifth century),
the notices, whether civil or ecclesiastical, are very
few, scanty, and unsatisfactory. It was St. Ninian's
lot to live at that critical period, when the Roman
power was breaking, and the empire was giving
way under internal divisions, and the inroads of
the Northern tribes. And Britain, which had been
raised from a wild and savage condition to con-
siderable civilisation, was again to be thrown back
into a more miserable barbarism by the inunda-
tions of the Caledonians, and the occupation of the

INTRODUCTION 221

Saxons. They were too much engaged in fighting
to write narratives of what they did ; and any
memorials they had were lost in the troubles which
followed. Of its ecclesiastical history we are still
more ignorant. The age of St. Ninian may be
looked on as one of which almost nothing is re-
corded in the annals of the British Church ; so that
we must form our ideas of this particular period
by what we know of the times preceding and fol-
lowing it. It would come in to fill the blank be-
tween the third and fourth chapters of the account
of the British Church, which is prefixed to the life
of St. Augustine.1

Of one, then, who lived in such an age, what
records can we have ? May not the history be
given up as entirely uncertain ? I conceive not ;
and for these reasons. Personal history is pre-
served when public events are unrecorded and for-
gotten. Nay, in all history it is often through the
narratives of the lives of individuals alone that
many circumstances of public importance have
been preserved to us ; it is round the individual
that interest centres, and his doings which are re-
membered. We know how children are impressed
by the words and deeds of individual worthies,
when of the general course of the history they
have no clear ideas, so that the best histories for
them consist of a series of personal tales. And it
is so with men generally, and particularly in a
simple state of society. Among Christians this is
still more the case ; since with them the affectionate
remembrance of those who are gone is heightened

1 No. iii. of this Series, [and Vol. III. pp. 190, 198 in this edition].

222 ST. NINIAN

by religious reverence, and sanctioned and sustained
by the commemoration of the departed. It is to
the individual Saint that Christians look, rather
than to the events of general history ; for they view
him as the work of Divine grace ; whilst the course
of the world, though in its progress and issue the
effect of His providence, is in detail but the mani-
festation of man's wilfulness and misery.

We cannot suppose but that the Picts, among
whom St. Ninian had introduced the Gospel, would
retain the memory of one to whom they were in-
debted for all they held dear. And in Galloway
he had left a standing memorial in the church of
stone, which was looked on with no little interest
by the admiring Britons, and was thought to give
a name to the place where it stood. He left a
monastery, too, and that would be the means of
preserving some records of him. That such records
were preserved we know, on the authority of the
earliest witnesses we could have — the most learned
and accomplished scholars, and the most holy men
of their age — Bede and Alcuin.

In Bede's time the Southern Picts were still
existing as a separate race, and testified to having
derived their Christianity from St. Ninian ; and
Whithern, with his church and tomb, was a visible
memorial. A Saxon succession of Bishops and a
Saxon monastery had been established here, on the
conquest of Galloway by that people. So that in
Bede we have the testimony of one who had full
means of informing himself on the subject, as to
the main incidents of St. Ninian's life ; as also
had Alcuin, of whom there is a letter still extant,

INTRODUCTION 223

written to the Brethren of the Saxon Monastery of
Whithern, recognising the miracles and holiness of
the Saint. And after this we find incidental men-
tion of St. Ninian in different writers, all treating
the chief facts of his life as matter of authentic
history.

These are, however, only portions of information
incidentally given, indications of a larger store exist-
ing among the people whom he had converted, and
where his Church and monastery were. Among
them we might expect that records would exist (as
among the other Celtic tribes in Wales and Ireland),
written in their own language, and from that very
circumstance little known to the rest of the world.
Galloway had been overrun by different tribes, but
(with the exception of the brief occupation by the
Saxons) they were all of the Celtic race, and their
languages, though different dialects, were mutually
intelligible. And we know that in the twelfth
century lives of the Saint were extant in their
language.

This we learn from the testimony of St. Aelred of
Rievaux, who was requested by the brethren of the
convent of Whithern to compose a life of their Patron
Saint in Latin. In an Introduction addressed to
them, he speaks of the disadvantage arising from the
life of the Saint only existing in a barbarous lan-
guage (or being written in a barbarous style), which
obscured his history, and interfered with the pleasure
and edification of the readers. It seems to be implied
that more than one life was extant in Celtic, and
perhaps in Latin, but that very rude and barbarous,
and that St. Aelred selected as the groundwork of his

224 ST. NINIAN

life the one which seemed to him the most authentic.
And it is possible that a life referred to by Arch-
bishop Usher, as existing among the Irish, may be
the representative of some of the others.

We regard this life, then, as representing what St.
Aelred considered the most authentic account then
existing of St. Ninian, an account not improbably, in
tradition at least, almost contemporaneous with the
Saint, and supplying the information which Bede and
Alcuin possessed respecting him.

Of the authority of St. Aelred as a biographer, little
need be said. He, whom even Bede calls a second St.
Bernard, was endued with that kindred sanctity which
fitted him to be the biographer of a Saint ; and his
education in the Scottish court and long friendship
with the king, and in particular his connection with
Fergus, the lord of Galloway, and his labours for the
restoration of religion in that country, as it led him
to tread in the footsteps of St. Ninian, would enable
him to ascertain all that could be learnt of authority
respecting him.

The work was written towards the close of his own
life, between 1153 and 1166. It agrees in style with
his other works, and is every way worthy of him.
Being intended for spiritual reading and edification,
it contains much that is inserted for that end, and
throws the sentiments which might be supposed to
influence the Saint into the dramatic form of a
soliloquy or speech. Perhaps in one or two points it
is liable to the charge of anachronism, from the
writer's imagining the existence of the customs of his
own time, in the days of which he is writing. It
is a singular gift in a writer to be able to strip himself

INTRODUCTION 225

of the habits of thought to which he has ever been
familiarised, or even constantly to keep in mind that
practices existing in his own day are of recent origin.
It ought to be added, that St. Aelred's Life bears
internal marks of truth, from its correspondence with
other history in minute points of chronology, with
the circumstances and habits of the age, and with the
distinctions of the tribes who occupied the country,
as the researches of the latest writers have determined
them. Indeed, from St. Aelred to the present cen-
tury, almost all who have written about St. Ninian
have fallen into some error or other from which he
seems to be free. This life soon became a popular
work in our monasteries, if we may argue from the
numerous copies which seem to have been made.

It was abridged by John of Tinmouth, and from
him was inserted by Capgrave in his collection. It
has received the highest sanction from the Scottish
Church, as selections from it were read as Lessons for
St. Ninian's day, in the Aberdeen Breviary. There are
copies made within a few years after St. Aelred's death,
in the Bodleian and the British Museum ; and it has
been printed, though without the Introduction, by Pink-
erton, in a collection of old Lives of Scottish Saints.

Later writers mention further circumstances re-
specting St. Ninian, but we have little evidence of
their truth. They may in some cases be regarded as
traditional stories, and have credit given to them as
not being intrinsically improbable; in others the
silence of St. Aelred respecting them may be taken as
a fair proof that he did not know, or did not believe
them. The Irish life referred to by Archbishop Usher
does not appear entitled to much consideration.

VOL. v. p

icrc

CHAPTER II

ST. NINIAN'S EARLY DAYS

THE date of St. Ninian's birth must be placed about
the middle of the fourth century. Alford has given
360. We may rather conceive it to have been a few
years earlier, as in 357, so as to make him forty years
of age at his consecration as a Bishop, in 397.

His name has been variously written and pro-
nounced. We now uniformly call him Ninian, as he
has usually been called in England, and so his name
is given in the Roman Martyrology and by St.
Aelred. In Bede, however, the name is Nynias, in
William of Malmesbury Ninas, in other writers Ninus.
In Scotland he is popularly called Ringan, the word
being pronounced Rin'nan, or Rinnian, or (as in the
Shetland Isles) Ronyan. In Ireland, both Ringan
and Ninian. How the difference in the first letter
arose (for the rest is much the same in pronunciation)
we have no means of conjecturing.

The father of the Saint, as his biographer explicitly
states, was a British Prince. To appreciate, however,
the condition of such a person in the age of St.
Ninian, we must forget the associations which we
usually connect with the Ancient Britons. This was
no longer a country occupied by wild savages, with
half-naked and painted bodies, who lived in assem-

226

ST. NINIAN'S EARLY DAYS 227

blages of miserable huts, buried in woods and pro-
tected by morasses. This state of things might exist
in those parts of the Island which were unsubdued or
unoccupied by the Romans ; but those in which they
had now for three centuries been predominant, had,
like their other provinces, become assimilated to the
habits of the conquerors.

Under this transforming system, a complete change
had been made in the appearance of the country and
the habits of the people. Forests had been cleared,
marshes drained, bridges thrown over the rivers, and
roads formed, intersecting the whole island, and
affording speedy and secure communication. Towns
sprung up, which imitated the cities of the continent.
They had their temples, basilicas, and theatres
adorned with painting and sculpture ; their shows and
exhibitions. So that in a period of three hundred
years, Britain advanced in wealth and prosperity, and
her artisans rivalled in activity and skill those of the
continent ; " every production of art and nature, every
object of convenience or luxury, was accumulated in
this rich and fruitful province." The remains which
are still left among us, bespeak the advance of luxury
and civilisation. The tesselated pavement, the marble
bath, the elegant vase, tell what Roman taste had
produced in England ; while we still use, after a lapse
of sixteen hundred years, the roads which her labour
formed.

With these changes there rose up a corresponding
alteration in the native population. They became
Romans ; filled the ranks of the legions ; acquired
the rights of citizens, and naturally imitated, as the
model of refinement and civilisation, the dress

228 ST. NINIAN

language, and manners of the Italian. The British
language still continued as the mother tongue of the
great body of the people, but even that was in a
measure Latinised, and among the higher classes,
Latin was generally spoken. The pleadings of the
courts were conducted in it, and the British youth
were taught to speak it by their grammarians and
rhetoricians, whose instructions formed the chief part
of Roman education. Even in the days of Agricola
Latin was cultivated, and the natives excelled in
eloquence ; the sons of the British chieftains received
a Roman education, and began to adopt the Roman
dress ; and in the fourth century, these beginnings
had issued in the complete assimilation of the Pro-
vincial to the Roman habits ; and the son of a British
prince may be conceived not to have differed much,
in point of manners and civilisation, from the inhabi-
tants of any other part of the empire.

Alford, indeed, smiles at the flattery of his bio-
grapher, in exalting the Saint to the worldly dis-
tinction of the son of a king. St. Aelred, however,
or his Galwegian authority, was quite aware of the
meaning of this title when applied to a British chief.
He says, in speaking of Tuduval, a petty prince in
Galloway, " That the whole island was divided into
portions subject to different kings." Like the other
Celtic nations, the Britons consisted of distinct tribes,
with various subdivisions of septs and clans, each
under its own chieftain, and these subordinated to
a superior one. Thus the four Kings, whom Caesar
speaks of in the one kingdom of Kent. These
national subordinations, living on under, and through,
the Roman period, and naturally prevailing most on

ST. NINIAN'S EARLY DAYS 229

the outskirts of the empire, are supposed to have
been the origin of the clans of the Scottish border.
St. Aelred would identify the position of the father
of our Saint, with the kings who governed the whole
of the Cumbrian Britons till within the memory of
his own time ; though this is giving him a wider
extent of authority than he probably possessed.

To suppose St. Ninian the son of one of the minor
chieftains under the Roman sway, is not assigning
him a very high or improbable distinction. These
kings, indeed, from their lands, or the contributions
of their tribes, often acquired considerable wealth,
and this coincides with what is said by his biographer
of the sacrifice he made in relinquishing his father's
house and his prospects in Britain, as well as with
all we hear of his education, and his acquaintance
with the full extent of theological teaching, which his
own country could supply.

St. Ninian's father then was a petty chieftain of
a British tribe, and, as we should infer from St.
Aelred's description, on the north-west coast of
Cumberland. It is true that the claim of Cumber-
land to this her one only native Saint may be dis-
puted, and the right we have to introduce St. Ninian
into a series of English Saints. For two other parts
of the island have been generally assigned. On the
one hand, though without any alleged ground so far
as we can ascertain, North Wales is stated to have
been his birthplace by Leland, Bale, and others ;
while he has most commonly been regarded as a
native of Scotland, and it has not unnaturally been
supposed that he was born near Whithern, the seat
of his future Bishopric ; not unnaturally, because it

230 ST. NINIAN

was to labour for the restoration of religion among
his own countrymen, primarily, that he was sent
from Rome. The inhabitants of Galloway, however,
were of one and the same race with the Britons of
Cumberland, and so were really his countrymen, even
if he were born in Cumberland ; and as we go on it
will appear that his mission at first was not directed
to Whithern, but that after landing and preaching in
his native country, he chose that as his permanent
abode. St. Aelred is certainly an unprejudiced wit-
ness. His authority was a Galwegian life, and he
was writing his narrative for the Church of Galloway,
and he had strong affections for that country. Still
he states, as the received opinion of his day, that the
coast of Cumberland by the Solway was the birth-
place of the Saint. His words are, " in that district,
as it is thought, which lying in the western parts of
the island (where the sea, stretching out, as it were,
an arm, and forming two angles on each side, separ-
ates what are now the kingdoms of the Scotch and
English), is proved, not only by the authority of
histories, but also by the memory of some persons,
to have had kings of its own, even to the latest times
of the Saxons."1 This arm of the sea is evidently
the Solway, which on the cession of Cumberland to
Henry II., 1153, became the boundary of the two
kingdoms ; and it was on the western shore of the
Island, and in a district which had kings of its own,

1 " In ea, ut putatur, regione, quse in occiduis ipsius insulae partibus
(ubi Oceanus quasi brachium porrigens, et ex utraque parte duos
angulos faciens, Scotorum nunc et Anglorum regna dividit) constituta,
usque ad novissima Anglorum tempora proprium habuisse regem,
non solum historiarum fide, sed quorundam quoque memoria com-
probatur."

ST. NINIAN'S EARLY DAYS 231

" usque ad novissima Anglorum tempora " ; that is,
till the end of the Saxon times. The Cumbrian
Britons had kings of their own till the year 946,
when the last of their princes, Dunmail, fell in de-
fence of their narrow territories, and Edmund gave
the conquered country to the Scottish kings. The
British inhabitants continued as a separate race in
the time of St. Aelred, and took a conspicuous part
in the Battle of the Standard.

It is quite clear that Galloway was not the country
intended, for it had lords of its own, who were in
power in Aelred's day, and some time after ; and as
he was on terms of intimate friendship with Fergus,
the then lord, he would certainly not speak of them
as matter either of history or tradition.

Pinkerton indeed in a note on St. Aelred's life,
supposes as others had done, that Strathclydd, the
Scottish portion of the great northern settlement of
Britons, is the district referred to. But there are
these objections to the view. Strathclydd, which lies
on the opposite side of the Solway, and stretches to
the Clyde, would scarcely have been described as in
the western parts, in connection with the mention of
that sea, as it is its south-eastern coast only which
abuts upon the Solway. Again, though the Strath-
clydd race of kings had continued till 975, or perhaps
1018, when there is the last mention of the inhabi-
tants of Strathclydd as having a king ; yet it does
not appear why they should be mentioned in con-
nection with the Angli — the Saxons — who had not
occupied that district for some centuries previously,
and then only for a short time and very partially.
Indeed the " usque ad novissima Anglorum tempora "

232 ST. NINIAN

would not seem to have any meaning as regarded
any part of Scotland, where, in St. Aelred's days, the
Angli still continued in as much power as at any
previous time.1

And there is a remarkable confirmation of our
view in Leland s account ; for though he represents
North Wales as Ninian's birthplace, and throughout
his history differs materially from St. Aelred, yet he
says that the country the Saint first visited as a
missionary, was the coast of Cumberland, " between
St. Bees Head and Carlisle," and Galloway. This is
what we conceive him to have done, supposing that
part of Cumberland to have been his birthplace, and
so far it coincides with St. Aelred's account, that he
first went to his native place ; except that Leland,
quite erroneously it would seem, places that mis-
sionary visit before, instead of after, his residence at
Rome.

It is allowed that St. Aelred's description is ob-
scure, but to suppose it to describe the Cumbrian
coast seems the most natural interpretation. Let us
then assume that St. Ninian is an English and a
Cumbrian Saint In that case he would be one of
the great tribe of Brigantes, who occupied the whole
of the northern counties of England. The district
where he was born was in those days one of consider-
able importance. It lay close to the wall of Severus,

1 The name Cumbria was given to the whole district occupied by
the Cwmry, in Scotland and the north of England, sometimes includ-
ing even Galloway. The Scottish part was called Strathclydd ; the
English, to which the name of Cumberland was afterwards appro-
priated, Reged. We must not, therefore, claim the authority of
writers who call St. Ninian a native of Cumbria, as they may have
meant, of the Scottish portion.

ST. NINIAN'S EARLY DAYS 233

which there came to its western limit, and for the
defence of this line a very large proportion of the
Roman forces was stationed in the neighbourhood ;
and it was near the point where the great line of
road through York to Carlisle terminated. These
circumstances made the district a busy and excited
one, and gave many opportunities of intercourse with
the Romans, and the rest of the world. Still it was
the busy scene of camps and warfare, for the country
was intersected by roads, and filled by garrisons ;
and its position on the Scottish border must even
then have made it a restless and unsettled dwelling-
place.

In a religious point of view, it is possible that
this free intercourse may have brought a knowledge
of the Gospel earlier amongst the natives of this
district, than of others which were in actual distance
less remote. We know so little of the religious
history of Britain at this time, that we must judge
much by probabilities, and the parallels of other
countries. There had long been a Bishop at York,
and probably the small size of the island would
have promoted a more general conversion of the
people than in France, where, at the same period,
a large portion of the country were still uncon-
verted. In the towns, Christian Churches would
be established ; but in country districts, the people
might still be to a great extent pagan. Indeed, it
was to complete the conversion of the inhabitants
of the western side of the island, as well as to root
out the errors which prevailed among those who
were Christians, that St. Ninian was many years
after sent back from Rome. That the father of

234 ST. NINIAN

St. Ninian was a Christian, is mentioned as a
distinction.

We might probably infer, from the prince of the
district having accepted the gospel, that it would
be promoted among his countrymen, that Churches
were built, and clergy fixed among them. St.
Ninian's reverence for Churches is mentioned by his
biographer, as a mark of his youthful piety. Now,
not far from the sea-coast, in the very part of
Cumberland where we conceive St. Ninian to have
been born, and of which his father was the chieftain,
there is a church, the architecture of which has been
supposed to indicate its being built during the
Roman occupation of Britain — that of Newton
Arloch, in the parish of Holme Cultram. It is,
then, not an improbable conjecture, that this church,
which, unlike the rest of the British churches, was
built of stone, may have been connected with the
family of our Saint. Shall we imagine its erection
the work of the British prince, and his son baptised,
and praying there? Or the fruit of the return of
the Saint from Rome, when, as his Cathedral at
Whithern was built of stone, a corresponding work
of piety was performed, in the rebuilding the Church
of his native district. Anyhow, if such, as is by
no means improbable, be the age of the Church,
and this the birthplace of St. Ninian, we cannot
but connect them with each other.

The very circumstance that Christians were living
surrounded by a heathen population, assisted them
to realise that they were a distinct people, enjoying
peculiar privileges, and under especial obligations,
separated from the world, as in profession, so in

ST. NINIAN'S EARLY DAYS 235

duties and in destinies. It was a state which gave
a vivid force to the language of the New Testament,
and a manifest visibility to the Church ; and their
faith may well be supposed to have been united
to personal earnestness and conviction, to actual
renunciation of the world, and a life corresponding
to their calling. Such the father of Ninian is said
to have been ; " one of such faith and merit, as to
be thought worthy of a son through whom the
deficiencies in the faith of his own people might
be supplied, and a distinct tribe (the Southern Picts)
brought to a participation in the mysteries of our
Holy religion."

His mother has been supposed to be one of a
family of Saints. The notion is not unnatural. In
those days, when the few names we know are those
of Saints, we should wish to imagine that they, at
least, knew, and were connected with, each other.
And the instances in sacred history, the selection of
families for privileges, the rewarding the children
for the piety of their parents, and the obvious effects
of association, common education, and mutual inter-
cession, would lead us to think it likely. All this
would suggest the notion, till it passed into a proba-
bility, and guesses became reports, and their very
likelihood made men believe them. Thus one would
account for the tradition, that the mothers of St.
Ninian and St. Patrick, whose name is said to have
been Conch, or Conchessa, were sisters of St. Martin
of Tours ; thus uniting, by the ties of blood, these
holy men. This statement, as regards the mother
of St. Ninian, is found in a MS. Catalogue of Saints,
at Louvain, and in Hector Boethius, and other later

236 ST. NINIAN

writers, of little authority. But to say nothing of
the improbability that the daughters of a Roman
officer, in Pannonia or Italy, should have married
two Britons, the life of St. Aelred would be decisive
against it. It is not to be supposed that he should
not have known it, had it in his day been matter
of probable tradition. Yet he not only omits it, but
implies that St. Ninian's knowledge of St. Martin
arose from the Life of the Saint, by Sulpicius.

A brother is mentioned by St. Aelred, in the
later part of St. Ninian's life, as his companion in
his episcopal travels in Galloway. His name was
Plebeius ; and he is spoken of as his equal in
sanctity. He, probably, was one who stayed in his
father's house, and on the return of Ninian from
Rome, became his fellow-labourer in the conversion
of their countrymen, and his helper, by example
and admonition, in personal holiness.

Born of such parents, our Saint " was in infancy
regenerated in the sacred waters of Baptism." So
his biographer begins his history — with the first
element of spiritual life, the source of all his graces ;
and very beautifully does he describe the preserva-
tion of the purity then imparted. We might, indeed,
wish to know the circumstances by which the youth-
ful Saint was surrounded ; ' the events which befel
him, and the temptations he surmounted ; but it
seems as if we were to view him as Angels might
love to do, in his true spiritual condition, looking
only to the Divine work in him, not to those tem-
porary and earthly accidents by which it was carried
out ; for of them no record is left us. It is this
inward life only which St. Aelred records, and the

ST. NINIAN'S EARLY DAYS 237

graces in which it developed itself. We must
imagine the outward circumstances of his condition
as best we may.

" The wedding garment," he says, " which he then
put on," that pure bright clothing of the soul
by the gifts of grace, which the white robes of
the new-baptised figured, " he preserved unsullied."
Such was his special blessedness ; as one of those
virgin souls which follow the Lamb whithersoever
he goeth. " Victorious over his faults " — those
tendencies to evil which remain in the soul, like
the Canaanites in Israel, to exercise the Christian
warrior in watchfulness and obedience — " he pre-
sented it, spotless as it was, in the presence of
Christ. And coming thus pure for the gift of
Confirmation, he deserved, by the sanctity of his
character, to have, as the enlightener of his holy
heart, that Holy Spirit whom at first he had
received to purify it."

" Under this Divine Guide, whilst still a child, yet
with no childish mind, he shrunk from everything
contrary to religion, from all that was opposed to
chastity, to right conduct, or the laws of truth ;
and ceased not to cultivate with the understanding
of a man all that was of the law, of grace, of good
report, whatever was of service to his neighbour
and acceptable to God."

The circumstances of this holy childhood we must
imagine — the examples of religious parents, the
blessedness of a house where no sentiment unfavour-
able to piety was ever heard, the training of a
saintly mother, his first lisping prayers, his reverend
introduction to the Church. His first lessons in

238 ST. NINIAN

sacred reading, his little playmates, his youthful
trials, (his first schooling ; of these we only know
that their influence issued in his sanctification and
growth in grace. One means of this, St. Aelred
specially intimates — the study of Holy Scripture,
that meditative study which is the only way to let
its truths take a deep and sure root in the heart.

" Blessed," his Life proceeds, " was he whose
delight was in the Law of the Lord ; in His Law
did he meditate day and night. He was like a tree
planted by the water side, which brought forth his
fruit in due season."

This fruit was abundantly produced in the after-
life of St. Ninian. Let us observe the preparation
for it ; the early practice of meditating on Holy
Scripture, by withdrawing the thoughts from dis-
sipating objects, and calmly and silently turning
them to God ; dwelling upon His word, and extract-
ing from it all its sweetness. This is that studying,
exercising one's self in, meditating, thinking on it,
which we hear so much of in the Psalms. It is
very important to accustom children to this practice,
that they may not merely read over certain portions
of Scripture, but, taking, a few verses, dwell on them
in silence, endeavouring to enter into their meaning,
to realise what they contain, and apply it to them-
selves. "To read little and think much," is a rule
of Bishop Taylor's.

But in subordination to this sacred reading and
meditation, we cannot doubt that Ninian had all
those advantages of secular learning which Britain
afforded ; and these were not inconsiderable. At
the neighbouring town of Lugubalia, our Carlisle, he

ST. NINIAN'S EARLY DAYS 239

would have the means of acquiring the preparatory
learning of the encyclical course,1 as no doubt the
military establishments in the neighbourhood would
induce even a higher class of teachers than ordinary
to resort thither.

At York, which was in turns with London the
seat of government, still greater opportunities would
be afforded for completing his secular studies ; and
the zeal and earnestness with which he would avail
himself of them, his after-history will abundantly
testify.

Of his character in this part of his life St. Aelred
writes, describing it as the fruit which in its season
was brought forth from his continual meditation on
the divine law, and the purifying and enlightening
influence of the Holy Spirit. " He brought forth
his fruit in due season," he says, "fulfilling in riper
years what he had with the utmost devotion learnt
in youth. His devout reverence for Churches was
wonderful ; wonderful his affection for his com-
panions. He was temperate in food, sparing in
words, assiduous in reading. His manners were
engaging, he abstained from jesting, and ever
subjected the flesh to the spirit."

1 See Life of St. German, No. IX. of this series, pp. 14, 15. [In this
edition, Vol. II. pp. 153, 154.]

CHAPTER III

ST. NINIAN'S RIPER YEARS

PROCEEDING (we may well suppose) from this
spiritual mind, and the fruit of it, was that mental
energy and resolution which soon distinguished him.
Indeed it could not fail to be so. It is matter of
common observation, how remarkably the under-
standing of a poor and uneducated man is developed
by religious earnestness. Such a one is awakened
from sluggish indifference. The end of his being
is set before him, and he feels that he has duties
to discharge. The value of Christian knowledge
begins to be appreciated, meditation on divine
truths expands the faculties, and leads him to see
the connection of religious ideas ; and love of the
Object of Whom something is known, creates a holy
eagerness to know more.

The young and noble Briton, with few advantages
indeed, yet earnestly desirous to use those few, had
more given. He began in careful self-government,
unfeigned reverence for Holy things, in sweetness
of temper and purity of heart. The Holy Spirit,
whose firstfruits were love, joy, peace, longsuffering,
gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, self-control,
imparted in due season and fuller measure his seven-
fold gifts. Such is the true course of attaining divine

340

ST. NINIAN'S RIPER YEARS 241

wisdom. Holy Scripture, in enumerating these gifts,
mentions first that which is the highest, and therefore
the last attained ; in the actual order they are in-
verted, and become the steps of wisdom ; first is
fear, the beginning of wisdom, fear of offending
God and losing our souls ; then reverence for every
manifestation of the Divine will and His truth ;
hence knowledge imparted to the docile heart ; then
counsel guiding us to choose our course each day
aright ; then resoluteness and strength to adhere to
it ; understanding readily to discern the Divine will
and to enter into the meaning of His words ; and
lastly, as the crowning point, wisdom in the con-
templation and perception of the highest truth.

Far different in its origin is that unpractical
temper which would treat the truths of our most
Holy Faith as matters of mere intellectual know-
ledge, and seek to know what is and what may
be said about them, in a curious and disputatious
spirit, tampering with most sacred things. Such a
temper can only end in darkness, ignorance, and
error, even if it retains the outward expression of
the truth ; for it is quite compatible with the neglect
of relative duties, self-indulgence, angry passions,
and gross habitual violations of the divine law.
Nay, from its offensiveness to Almighty God, and
profane familiarity in His most Holy Presence, and
the hardening of a heart which has been accustomed
to close the affections and the will against the most
influential truths, it is most likely to lead to falling
away from grace and final departure from God.

But far different was the case of St. Ninian ;
humility, purity, and love were the elements of his

VOL. V. Q

242 ST. NINIAN

character. In him holiness of heart was the principle
which led to an earnest desire after divine knowledge.
There was One Supreme Object of his affections, and
on that same Object his thoughts would ever be
fixed : where the heart is kept in the love of God,
the mind will turn to the knowledge of Him. And
it was the working of this simple principle which
determined the course of his life. He had been
taught the principles of the faith, and he sought to
realise more and more what is revealed respecting
the Heavenly Father, and the Eternal Son and the
Holy Ghost. He was constant in drinking in at the
fountain of Eternal Life in the Scriptures, and tracing
there the manifestations of the truth ; and the result
was a yearning after a more exact knowledge of
Religious Truth, after that Truth which would be
consistent with itself, and harmonise with the state-
ments of Holy Writ.

"Before the mind," it has been said, "has been
roused to reflection and inquisitiveness about its
own acts and impressions, it acquiesces, if religiously
trained, in that practical devotion to the Blessed
Trinity, and implicit acknowledgment of the
Divinity of Son and Spirit, which Holy Scripture
at once teaches and exemplifies." " But as the
intellect is cultivated and expanded, it cannot refrain
from the attempt to analyse the vision which in-
fluences the heart, and the Object in which it centres.
Nor does it stop here, till it has, in some sort,
succeeded in expressing in words, what has all along
been a principle both of the affections and of practical
obedience."

Such seems to have been the state of St Ninian's

ST. NINIAN'S RIPER YEARS 243

mind ; and a most critical period it was in his
spiritual history. For whereas the Divine arrange-
ment is, to provide, by the gradual teaching of the
Church, that knowledge which the religious mind
desires, the circumstances of the British Church at
that time failed to supply it. His heart would have
responded to the notes of truth, but they were not
truly and clearly heard.

It is not a pleasing task to depreciate the estimate
which may have been formed of the religious con-
dition of Britons at any period ; but a writer of
St. Ninian's life cannot avoid the subject ; it stands
full in his way, for the whole of our history turns
upon the fact that the teaching of the British Church
at that time was very imperfect and erroneous. His
biographer is explicit on this point, and the evidence
from other sources inclines the same way. Bede's
statement as to the prevalence of Arianism, does
not imply merely that when the British bishops
consented to the suppression of the true doctrine at
Ariminum, our church, like the rest of Christendom,
wondered to find itself Arian. On the contrary, he
speaks of a peculiar prevalence of error here ; an
infection of Arianism first, and that followed by
every form of heresy ; and the cause he assigns for
it in the fickleness of the national character, would
lead us to expect what he intimates, the inconsiderate
reception of errors, and the want of any sound or
stable teaching of the truth ; " novi semper aliquid
audire gaudenti, et nihil certi firmiter obtinenti."

Nor is it at all inconsistent with this, to believe
that the Bishops adhered to the Nicene formulary,
and that such was the profession of the British

244 ST. NINIAN

Church generally. In 353, they had unwillingly
yielded at Ariminum, but in 363, St. Athanasius,
in his letter to Jovian, enumerates them among a
long list of nations who acknowledged the Creed
of Nice. Persons might agree to the form in which
the Catholic doctrine was expressed, and feel shocked
at the idea of separating themselves from the faith
and communion of the whole Church, and yet not
have any deep hold on the truth itself, or, when
they came to explain what they meant, any accurate
knowledge of it. We may well imagine more active
minds openly Arianising ; more religious and less
intellectual ones obscure and inconsistent in their
statements, and quite unfit to teach dogmatically ;
and this would coincide with the fact of the Bishops
submitting under their trials to an Arianising
formula.

St. Jerome and St. Chrysostom have repeatedly,
indeed, been referred to, as witnessing to the ortho-
doxy of the British Church, but the passages really
bear very slightly on the subject, and rather suggest
a different view ; for in each case the mention of
Britain is introduced to establish the universal pre-
valence of the practice they are speaking of; it
existed even in Britain ; and Britons were regarded
as very exiles from the rest of the world. "The
Gospel has prevailed over heathenism," argues St.
Chrysostom ; x " besides the Scythians, Moors, and
Indians, even the British Isles have felt its power,
and churches and altars are established there."
"That it is not lawful to have a brother's wife,

1 St. Chrys. torn. 10. 638, torn. I. 575, torn. 3. 71, Ed. Ben. are
the references made by Stillingfleet.

ST. NINIAN'S RIPER YEARS 245

resounded even in Britain," besides other remote
and barbarous countries. Again, in a passage more
to the point, of which the beauty itself will be an
excuse for quoting it at length, speaking of the
study of the Holy Scriptures, he compares them to
a "Paradise of Delight, not like that of Eden con-
fined to one place, but filling the whole earth, and
extending to the utmost bounds of the habitable
world. 'Their sound is gone out into all lands, and
their words into the ends of the world.' Go to the
Indians," he says, "on whom the rising sun first
looks ; to the Ocean, to those British Isles (so does
he speak of us) ; sail to the Euxine ; go to far
southern climes ; everywhere will you hear all pro-
fessing the philosophy of the Scriptures ; with
different voice, but no different faith ; the tongues
discordant, but the minds in unison."

But beautiful as the passage is, and comforting as
the sentiment it contains, yet it is much too general
and rhetorical in its style, to found any accurate
view upon. The passage quoted from St. Jerome1
is from a letter from SS. Paula and Eustochia to
St. Marcella, wishing her to come to visit the holy
places in Palestine. Their spiritual guide, St. Jerome,
was supposed to have composed it, and so it had
passed under his name, but the Benedictine editors
are of opinion that it was not written by him.
"Christians," they say, "from all the world visit
those sacred places. The Briton separated from
our world, if he has made any progress in religion,

1 Ep. ad. Marc. torn. 4. p. 2. 441, Ed. Ben. There are several
other passages in Jerome to the same effect.

246 ST. NINIAN

leaving the setting sun, seeks a place known to him
only by report and the mention of it in Scripture."

There does not seem in these passages anything
to oppose the distinct statement of Bede, as to the
prevalence of error. Their tone would rather lead
us to think that the British Church was not very
highly esteemed by the rest of Christendom. And
quite consistent with this was their condition, when
the Bishops in vain endeavoured to resist the pro-
gress of Pelagianism. The life of St. Ninian certainly
represents the state of the Church to have been
such that he could find no complete teaching of
the truth, and that it was on account of the errors
which prevailed that he returned as a missionary
among them.

As respects schools for theological teaching, there
does not seem to be evidence of any previous to the
visit of St. Germanus, except perhaps the monastery
of Benchor ; and it is doubtful whether this existed
at the time of which we are speaking. That there
were such schools, however, is not questioned. In-
deed, there were among the contemporaries of
Ninian, some whose character for learning was
acknowledged throughout the Church. Pelagius
and Caelestius, sad as is the remembrance attached
to their names, were men of distinguished talents
and learning. The former, born 354, it has been
said, was educated at Benchor, and became superior
of it in 4O4.1 His abilities and accomplishments
were recognised by the best and greatest Doctors ;
he was on terms of familiar intercourse and corre-
spondence with SS. Jerome, Augustine, and Paulinus,

1 Usher de Prim. B. E. p. 207.

ST. NINIAN'S RIPER YEARS 247

and highly esteemed and loved by them. The writ-
ings of Caelestius, a native of Scotland or Ireland,
before he became heretical, were universally admired
for their orthodoxy, learning, and virtuous tendency.
Somewhat later, St. Patrick flourished, and Fastidius
and Faustus later still.

But even if there were schools of theological
learning where such men were trained, of what use
could they be, if they did not hold that faith which
it was their duty to teach? There may be existing
in a country an ample establishment of places of
education for every age and every rank, yet what
are they worth if the truth has departed ? It is the
body when the spirit has fled ; the salt without its
savour ; the lamp unsupplied with oil. It is worse.
Not teaching the truth must be training the mind
in error. And it is not wonderful, though Britain
about this time did send out men of distinguished
talents, that those who did not humbly seek in-
struction elsewhere were more or less heretical
Pelagius and Caelestius were almost contemporary
with Ninian and Patrick. How remarkable is the
different issue of the histories of these fellow-
countrymen. Ninian (and as some say, Patrick too),
with little name for learning, and in their lifetime
probably little known in this world, pursue the
course of humility and obedience, seek the City for
no earthly object, but for the inestimable pearl, the
knowledge of Christ — cultivating a saintly character,
and prepared at the bidding of their superiors to
leave the privileges, and happiness there enjoyed,
for the arduous office of converting their heathen
and barbarous countrymen. Pelagius and Caelestius,

ST. NINIAN

passing from, it may be, the more civilised parts of
the island, looked up to, even in Rome, as distin-
guished men, enjoy the society and esteem of
the learned and the saintly — attain name and dis-
tinction in the Church — follow their own ways, and
leave their memories branded with the awful note of
heresy. Of Pelagius's numerous works scarcely a
fragment remains. " I went by and lo ! he was gone ;
I sought him but his place could nowhere be found."
" They are like the chaff which the wind scattereth
away from the face of the earth." But " the righteous
live for evermore, and his memory is blessed."

But to pursue the course of St. Ninian's history.
The time we are speaking of is probably prior to
the year 380, and so before the Council of Con-
stantinople, A.D. 381, had finally destroyed the Arian
party. Then it was that the earnest desire of
learning the true faith took entire possession of St.
Ninian's mind. He sought instruction from the
best teachers his own Church afforded, but could
not obtain it. He felt their teaching was imperfect.
It did not harmonise with what he knew was true,
nor accord with those Scriptures which he had ever
studied. He had a teacher within — that inward and
divinely kindled Light which illumines the mind of
many an unlettered peasant, and gives him a real
perception and understanding of the truths of the
Creed, and of the sense of Holy Scripture. He had
learned the elementary truths of the Gospel, and a
religious life had impressed them on his mind as
living realities. Thus much light was thrown on
the meaning of those Holy Scriptures on the
thought of which he had lived when a child. For

ST. NINIAN'S RIPER YEARS 249

the knowledge of the Rule of Faith, as St. Aelred,
with the primitive fathers, calls the system of
Christian Doctrine, was an entering into the very
mind of the Spirit, which is the true key to the
understanding of His most holy Words. That
mind is expressed in various forms, pervading every
part of Psalm and Prophecy, History and Epistle ;
and we shall best understand them, not by critical
investigations into the meaning of words, but by
learning more of the mind of the Author ; just as
one who knows but in a very slight degree the
views of a writer, will apprehend his meaning with
readiness and certainty, while one who weighs the
words and criticises their force with the utmost
jealousy, will find them full of ambiguity and un-
certainty, and at last arrive at a doubtful and
probably erroneous conclusion. The Scriptures had
been the subject of his constant study and medita-
tion from early youth — of a practical, devout study,
that they might be the guide of his life and the
model he aimed to imitate, and now the hidden
things they contained were being revealed to him,
and continually more light thrown upon them, as
they were made more practical, and connected with
the truths of the Creed.

With this inward perception of Divine Truth, St.
Ninian could perceive the inconsistencies of the
teaching of the British Ecclesiastics, and its dis-
crepancy from the Scriptures. In him were the
words made good, " I have more understanding
than my teachers, for Thy testimonies are my
study. I am wiser than the aged, because I keep
Thy commandments."

250 ST. NINIAN

Disappointed of help where he most naturally
and dutifully looked for it, what was he to do? It
was not perhaps to be expected that he should
be led into a perfect knowledge of the truth by
the light within, independently of external teaching.
In the case, indeed, of an accomplished and highly
illuminated teacher, or one precluded from the means
of instruction, or as a gift of special grace, one
would not presume to limit its possible range. In
such cases the development of truth by holy and
loving meditation, and devout study of Holy Scrip-
ture, may surpass conception. But to St. Ninian the
means of further instruction were open, though at
a great and trying sacrifice, that of forsaking his
home and all that was dear to him on earth.

Before, however, this step was taken, whilst he
sought for further teaching, we may conceive his
trials to have been very great. There was the
temptation to indifference, to seek no more of that
which he already had in a larger measure than
most around him, and to turn the thirstings of his
ardent mind to those objects (such as they were)
which occupied the thoughts and aims of most of
the young nobles of his time ; and the checks and
difficulties he met with would suggest themselves
as reasons for such a course. But he was not dis-
posed to feed on the husks of swine after having
tasted of that which was sweeter than honey and
the honeycomb, more to be desired than gold and
all manner of riches — the knowledge of Him who
passeth knowledge.

On the other hand, there was the temptation to
rest in what he knew, in intellectual self-satisfaction,

ST. NINIAN'S RIPER YEARS 251

to feel pride in superior attainments, to point out
the errors of others, and argue on the illogicalness
of their conclusions — to show that xthey could not
prove what they maintained, and to make a display.
But surely no earnest mind could do this. It was
the truth which he desired to know ; to be thought
to know it was matter of indifference to him. To
prove others wrong could but be an occasion of
sorrow, unless it aided himself and them in attain-
ing truth.

A more subtle temptation remained ; to throw
himself on the resources of his own mind, to trust
to the deductions of his own intellect, either from
the text of Holy Scriptures or the doctrines he
had already been taught. For this he was too
humble. The immensity and awfulness of the
subject, and the consciousness of his own imperfec-
tions, both of will and understanding, might well
make him draw back from so perilous and uncertain
a work. Reverence would shrink from touching
with a young and uninformed mind subjects which
it only regarded as objects of veneration. Moses
was bidden to put his shoes from off his feet before
he approached the Holy One. The cherubim cover
their heads against the dazzling brightness of the
earthly manifestations of Divine glory. It is only
where the mind has been trained into the knowledge
of the faith, and is influenced by great sanctity and
humility, that it can safely use the reason in matters
of faith. Others must be content, and, if they have
the elements of holiness, will be desirous, only to
be taught by those of higher attainments than
themselves.

252 ST. NINIAN

What then was he to do? St. Aelred thus
describes his state. " He intently applied his mind
to the study of Holy Scripture ; and when he had,
in their way, learnt the Rule of Faith from ail the
most learned of his own nation, being possessed of
a discerning mind, he perceived, according to the
understanding he had himself by Divine inspirations
gained from Scripture, that they fell far short of
perfection. Hence his mind was thrown into un-
certainty ; and unable to rest in incomplete know-
ledge, his heart swelled within him ; he sighed ; his
heart grew hot within him, and while he was thus
musing the fire kindled. What, he said, shall I do ?
I have sought in my own country for Him whom
my soul loveth, and have not found Him. I will
arise ! I will compass sea and land ! I will seek
that truth which my soul loveth ! "

In this state of mind Rome naturally presented
itself as the place to which he should have recourse.
She, who for centuries had been the queen of nations,
was now attaining a greater glory, as the chief
Church of Christendom, the centre of the Christian
WOrld — the home of faith and devotion — the point
to which all that was great and good drew as to a
safe refuge. High as was her bearing in the eye
of the world, yet greater still was the interest which
attached to her in the eyes of a Christian. Man
saw her noble edifices, her wealth, her power ; yet
that outward kingdom and glory was but a shell to
guard an inner principle of life, and was now break-
ing in pieces to allow of its development. Here
was a Church which the chief of the Apostles had
founded and taught, and for which they had shed

ST. NINIAN'S RIPER YEARS 253

their blood ; a Church which had carefully preserved
the faith as it had received it, by the Holy Ghost
dwelling in it. To her, as a guide, the chief writers
of the western Church had directed those who sought
to know the truth ; and during the long Arian
struggle, she had been the main support of the
faith ; and the purity of her belief, and the complete-
ness of her teaching were known and acknowledged
by all.

" To this Church," St. Irenaeus had said long ago,
"on account of its higher original, all Churches
must have recourse." And Tertullian, " Go to the
Apostolic Churches to learn the faith. If thou art
near to Italy, thou hast Rome, where we also have
an authority close at hand. Blessed Church ! on
which the Apostles poured their doctrine with their
blood. Let us see what she hath learned, what she
hath taught." This was the Church, which the
Council of Antioch shortly before had called "the
School of the Apostles and the Metropolis of
Religion " ; and Theodosius in an edict, published
just at this time, A.D. 380, respecting faith in the
ever blessed Trinity, commanded that all the nations
under his rule "should steadfastly adhere to the
religion which was taught by St. Peter to the
Romans, which faithful tradition had preserved,
which was now professed by Pope Damasus, and
by Peter, Bishop of Alexandria."

These are the sentiments St. Aelred attributes to
St. Ninian, in a soliloquy which embodies the views
that might naturally be supposed to influence him.
" I have in my own country sought Him whom my
soul loveth, and have not found Him. I will arise,

254 ST. NINIAN

I will compass sea and land to seek the truth which
my soul longs for. But is there need of so much
toil? Was it not said to Peter, Thou art Peter,
and upon this rock will I build my Church, and
the gates of Hell shall not prevail against it? In
the faith of Peter then there is nothing defective,
obscure, imperfect ; nothing against which evil
doctrine or perverted sentiments, the gates as it
were of Hell, could prevail. And where is the
Faith of Peter but in the See of Peter? Thither
certainly I must go, that leaving my country and
my relations, and my father's house, I may be
thought worthy to behold with inward eye the
fair beauty of the Lord, and to be guarded by
His Temple." And of the temptation which would
draw him back. "The deceitful prosperity of life
smiles on me — the vanity of the world is attractive —
the love of my relations wiles me to stay — difficulties
and personal sufferings deter. But he who loveth
father and mother, saith the Lord, more than Me,
is not worthy of Me, and he that taketh not up
his cross and followeth after Me, is not worthy
of Me. I have learnt too that they who despise
Kings' palaces, attain to heavenly kingdoms."

Such were his feelings. And should it seem
strange to speak of a young Briton as making any
great sacrifice in leaving a distinction almost nominal
in a remote country, regarded as scarcely belonging
to the Roman world, for the metropolis of the
empire, the seat of refinement and luxury, of taste,
literature, and intellect, of all which was calculated
to engage the interest and sympathy of a Christian —
should it be thought that the change was one to be

ST. NINIAN'S RIPER YEARS 255

gladly caught at — let it be considered that it was
not the leaving Britain for Rome merely, which
indicated the devotion of St. Ninian. This might
have been done from the lowest motives, ambition,
curiosity, pleasure, and might not have implied the
tearing asunder of any ties ; as many have made
pilgrimages from the mere love of wandering. The
circumstances and the end determine the character of
the action. The sacrifice of worldly interest might
have been small ; but it was a sacrifice of all he had,
and that without any earthly recompense, and He
who rewarded those who left their father, and all
that they had, though but an interest in a fisherman's
poor stock, would have accepted him.

Relatively speaking, however, the sacrifice was con-
siderable. If the eldest son, he would hold the rank
of Tanist, as the destined successor to the reigning
king ; and his country was no longer, as we have
seen, that in which the captive Prince had wondered
the Romans could envy his poor cottage. Many of
its Princes possessed considerable wealth ; in their
days of independence they had coined gold and
silver, and in all probability still continued to possess
hereditary revenues. And Roman manners had
introduced even into Britain objects which that
wealth might purchase. Their elegant and costly
works, their notoriously extravagant luxuries, show
that Ninian could have found ways of expending
his inheritance which the children of this world
would have envied ; baths, and costly marbles,
inlaid pavements, and all the elegancies of art.
For objects of ambition he might have aimed, at
least, to be the chief among his countrymen ; or by

LIBRARY ST. MARY'S COLLEG1

256 ST. NINIAN

engaging in the service of Rome have risen, as other
provincials had done, to high distinction. Even the
imperial purple was not beyond the grasp of an
ambitious spirit. The British legions about this
very time made Maximus Emperor, and the great
Constantine has been said to be a native Briton.

But these things were seen in their true colours by
Ninian. He had renounced them in his Baptism,
and his heart had never returned to them. The
world, with its charms of pleasure, its prospects of
wealth or ambition, had no hold on him. His real
trial was from a deeper attachment — affection to his
friends, a sacrifice made more painful in proportion
as Christian piety increased his love to them. Al-
mighty God seems ever, as it were, to retain a hold
upon us, so as to be able to inflict sharp pain for our
correction, or give us the opportunity of overcoming
it from love to Him ; and this especially through our
affections. Men hardened by ambition, covetous-
ness, and indifference to religion, yet retain deep
and tender love for wife or child ; and the loss of
them, or the sorrows which befall them, are con-
tinually means of awakening them to a sense of
religion. So in those who for Christ's sake have
weaned their affections from all other earthly objects,
their very progress in goodness, while it gives them
strength to forsake even what they best love for
Him, and keeps them from setting their affections
on them, yet makes their love more tender and deep,
and the pain of separation in itself greater, entirely
though it be compensated for by the overflowings of
Divine consolations.

Such seems to have been St. Ninian's chief

ST. NINIAN'S RIPER YEARS 257

struggle ; but the remembrance of his Lord's calls,
and the greatness of His promises, prevailed, and
he went out where Christ seemed to call him.

It has been reported that his father had at first
wished him to keep in the way of life which his birth
and circumstances naturally pointed out, and that it
was with great unwillingness that he yielded to his
son's desire to give up the world for a life devoted to
religion. This, however, must have been earlier,
when St. Ninian gave himself up in his own country
to the pursuit of religious truth. Still there is a
peculiar pang when a final step is taken, which
breaks off entirely hope which may against hope
have been secretly cherished ; still more when that
step took from their home him whose distinguishing
sweetness and affectionateness must have made him
beloved, whilst he was reverenced. But all these
considerations sank before the great object he had
in view, and he left his home, and as his biographers
say, "like Abraham, he went out from his country
and his father's house."

Two other reasons have been assigned for his
visiting Rome. The first is a conjecture of Alford's,
that he went to take advantage of the schools, the
original of our universities, which had been estab-
lished on so large a scale, and with so systematic
a discipline by Valentinian. They had been in-
stituted in 370, and with a special view to the
education of provincials. It is plain, however, that
this view is quite inconsistent with the picture given
us by St. Aelred. It was for no advantages of
secular learning that the humble and affectionate
Ninian left his parents and his home. It was the

VOL. v. R

258 ST. NINIAN

need of religious teaching, of that knowledge which
is life eternal, which caused and justified his sacrifice.
Besides, the students were not allowed to continue
after they were twenty years of age, which would
make Ninian so young on his going there, as to give
an entirely different character to his visit. He would
in that case appear to have been sent, as it were, to
the university by his parents. It is enough to say
that this is purely a conjecture, and not only without
foundation, but inconsistent with the earlier histories
of the Saint. Camerarius again represents his visit
as occasioned by the rules of the Culdees, to whom
he supposed him to belong, who required those who
were to be consecrated Bishops among them, to have
previously visited the Limina Apostolorum. But
this is apparently an anachronism, as the Culdees
do not appear in history till above a century after
St. Ninian's time.

Leland, too, places the visit to Rome after he had
been engaged in missionary labours in Britain ; but
he gives no authorities, and mentions the subject so
incidentally, and without noticing the different
account given in the received Lives, that we should
rather suspect him of a mistake in memory as to the
Saint's history, than of so slightingly opposing the
best authorities for the history.

CHAPTER IV

ST. NINIAN'S JOURNEY TO ROME

THE date of this journey we cannot accurately
determine. It was certainly before the year 385 ;
for the Pope by whom St. Ninian was consecrated
and sent as a missionary to Britain was not the
one in whose Pontificate he arrived in Rome. St.
Siricius was his consecrator, and he was elected
Pope on the death of St. Damasus in 385. Prior
then to this date, and during the Popedom of St.
Damasus, was the time of St. Ninian's arrival ; and
we should conjecture that it was prior to the year
383, as there is not in his Life any reference to
the convulsion occasioned by the revolt of Maximus,
which introduced great changes into Britain and
Gaul, by the emigration of a considerable portion
of the British nation to Brittany. Perhaps 381 may
be conjectured, when he was twenty-one years of
age or upwards.

By the assistance of the Itineraries we may trace
the route by which Ninian would travel from his
northern home, near Carlisle, to the great city.
The road began either on the south of the Solway,
or in Annandale, and ran through Carlisle by Old
Penrith, where a noble military way may still be
traced, thence by the vale of the Eden to Brough,

26o ST. NINIAN

and over the dreary hills of Stainmoor. Here
Ninian would have the last glimpse of those moun-
tains within sight of which he had spent his youth,
and the remembrance of which, with all the associa-
tions of friends and kindred, is so deeply engraven
on the heart. He would cross the moorlands and
travel along a road which runs by Bowes and
Catterick, and which we still enjoy as an inherit-
ance from our Roman conquerors, and so to York.

This was, as we have said, the second city of
Britain, the residence of the governors, and the
See of an Archbishop, and here most probably the
young prince would receive commendatory letters
to other Catholic Bishops, and particularly to Rome.
Hence he would proceed by the great line of Watling
Street to London, and Sandwich. This was the
port from which they sailed for Boulogne. Passing
through Rheims, then an episcopal city, he would
come to Lyons, that first cradle of the Church of
Gaul, consecrated by the memory of her martyrs,
and her sainted Bishop, St. Irenaeus. It was now
a great city, but more interesting to St. Ninian, as
it was now probably presided over by one who,
during the period of Arian trials, had been the
firm maintainer of the Catholic faith — St. Justus.
He was the friend of St. Ambrose, and Bishop
from 370 to 381, when he resigned his office and
retired to Egypt, to embrace a monastic life, and
end his days in devotion and peace.

The direct road from Lyons to Milan over the
Great St. Bernard, was steep, narrow, and impassable
for carriages ; another from Vienne by the Little
St. Bernard, was more circuitous but easier ; they

ST. NINIAN'S JOURNEY TO ROME 261

united at Aosta. His biographer especially men-
tions that he crossed the Gallic Alps, to impress
us, as it would seem, with the arduousness of a
journey, terrible from its natural difficulties, and
dangerous from the robbers who infested it ; for
not many years before St. Martin had been at-
tacked here, and saved from murder only by a
miracle.

He now entered Italy, and came among cities
and Churches associated with the names and lives
of Saints distinguished in the history of religion ;
and these would be the objects on which his thoughts
would fix. Nature indeed spread before him her
most sublime and then her loveliest scenery. The
world presented riches and splendour. He might
encounter on the road the magnificent equipages
and retinue of the wealthy Roman, coaches of solid
silver, mules with trappings embossed with gold,
horsemen preceding to clear the way, and a train
of baggage and attendants, cooks, slaves, eunuchs,
marshalled like an army. But he was proof against
these seductive imaginations ; the nil admirari is
not so effectually produced by any philosophy as
by the calm recollection of the Christian, whose
guarded eye does not allow him to forget the
shadowy nature of what is seen, and the reality of
those things which are not seen ; and he would
esteem above all the beauties of nature or of art,
the Church in each place he came to, and the pious
Christians whom he might meet with.

And there was one of these places which was
connected in an interesting way with his own future
history — Vercelli, through which the road from

262 ST. NINIAN

Lyons to Milan passed. Its late Bishop, St.
Eusebius, had introduced here, for the first time in
the western Church, the union of the clerical and
monastic life, which was afterwards adopted by
St. Ninian. St. Eusebius had died ten years before,
but the system was still kept up ; and it may not
be out of place here to give St. Ambrose's descrip-
tion of it, as it will by anticipation describe the
episcopal life of St. Ninian.

The Bishop and Clergy lived together in one
house, shut out from the world, and adopting the
way of life of the Egyptian monks, having all things
in common, and devoting their days and nights to
continued prayer and praise, labour and study.
" Can any thing," says the Saint, speaking of their
society, "can any thing be more admirable than
their way of life, in which there is nothing to fear,
and every thing worthy of imitation ; where the
austerity of fasting is compensated by tranquillity
and peace of mind, supported by example, made
sweet by habit, and cheered by virtuous occupations.
A life not disturbed by temporal cares, nor dis-
tracted by the tumults of the world, nor interrupted
by idle visits, nor relaxed by intercourse with the
world." Thus, under the eye of the Bishop himself,
Clergy were trained up, of whom he personally
knew the blamelessness, piety, and zeal ; while their
characters were so esteemed, that other Churches
sought their Bishops from him, and many distin-
guished Prelates were sent out from his school.

In after days, St. Ninian, on the coast of Galloway,
might recall to his mind the time when he had seen
Vercelli, and the first model of a system which,

ST. NINIAN'S JOURNEY TO ROME 263

with some modifications, was soon generally em-
braced, both by missionaries and in settled churches,
and is the original of the chapters of our cathedrals.
The road brought him from Lyons to Milan,
which from the year 303 had been the chief resid-
ence of the Emperors of the west, and soon assumed
the splendour of an imperial city. In the number
and beauty of the houses, the gay and polished
manners of the people, and the magnificence of
the public buildings, it seemed to rival, and not
suffer in comparison from the proximity of, Rome.
In this place St. Ambrose was Bishop, and even
to the eyes of the world that great man would
appear the most important object in Milan. The
popular voice had taken him from a high civil
position to be their Bishop, and he was such an
one that Theodosius recognised in him a realising
of all a Bishop ought to be. His people were
devoted to him, and his influence could withstand
and control the highest earthly sovereigns. And
yet so simple was his life that Ninian might have
seen or conversed with him. He gave himself wholly
to the work of the ministry. Constant in prayer,
by day and night, he slept little and fasted daily.
Yet he was accessible to all. St. Augustine gener-
ally found him surrounded by crowds of persons
and full of business. His time which was not thus
occupied, and it was but little, was given to refresh-
ment or reading, and he read where any one might
come to him ; no one was hindered, nor was it
usual for them to be announced, so that Augustine
would come and stay in the room, and leave again,
unwilling to interrupt him. He preached every

264 ST. NINIAN

Sunday, and Ninian may have listened to that
eloquence which melted the stubborn heart of him
who afterwards was St. Augustine, and which we
may read with so much admiration.

But Rome was his object, and he hastened for-
ward. The Via Flaminia brought him to the
shore of the Adriatic, to the fatal Ariminum, con-
nected with recollections most distressing to every
Christian, and to a Briton still more so, as the
scene where the Bishops of his Church had fallen
into an allowance of heresy. But better days were
coming to the Church ; for, whilst the Eastern
Bishops had met at Constantinople, and republished
the Nicene Faith, in the year 381, perhaps the
very one in which St. Ninian was travelling through
Italy, councils were held at Aquileia and Milan,
where St. Ambrose was most distinguished for his
zeal for the maintenance of the true Faith. Keeping
along the coast to the Metaurus, the road there
turned inland, and crossing the passes of the
Apennines, led on to Rome.

And what a scene must Rome have presented to
St. Ninian as he beheld it on his approach, and
saw the wide gilded roof of the Capitol, or the
gorgeous splendour of the Palatium rising above
the innumerable buildings which surrounded them.
Or as he passed through the Forums, or under the
Temples or Basilicas which overhung its streets,
how vast must it have appeared in the multitudes
of its people, and the grandeur of its edifices.
Above a million, some say many millions of in-
habitants, were enclosed within a circuit of twenty
miles. The luxurious villas and gardens which

ST. NINIAN'S JOURNEY TO ROME 265

were spread around it, hemmed in the portion
occupied by dwellings, so that the houses rose to
a tremendous and dangerous height, far exceeding
the limit of 70 feet,' which law had imposed ; yet
these were broken by wide places around on which
stood the most magnificent specimens of ancient
architecture ; and porticoes, arches, columns, and
statues, were seen on every side. The palaces of
the nobles, now numbered at nearly 2000, from their
enormous establishments of slaves, were little towns
of splendid architecture, with marble columns and
gilded statues, each comprising within itself "every
thing which could be subservient to use or luxury,
forums, temples, fountains, baths, porticoes, with
shady groves and artificial aviaries." An overgrown
population of poor and idle citizens occupied at
an enormous rent the different floors and rooms
of the crowded houses, intent only on the daily
doles of food and the public entertainments of
the Circus.

The pomp of heathen worship still remained,
though its privileges and revenues were diminished.
Half the senate at least still adhered to the
ancient superstitions, and garlands, processions, and
victims might be seen, while the smoke and odour
of sacrifices and incense still rose on every side.
The rich, unoccupied by political or mercantile
pursuits, spent their days in idle and frivolous
pleasures, and a continual round of dissipation.
There might be seen the rich senator, in elegant
and costly dress, making his way through the
streets, attended by some fifty slaves ; or sailing
in his barge, screened by silken awnings and listen-

266 ST. NINIAN

ing to luxurious music. Their wealth was enormous,
and it was seen in their display of gold and silver
plate, the magnificence of their establishments, the
number of their slaves, and the lavish expenditure
of their exhibitions and public entertainments.
Luxury and refinement seemed to have reached
their utmost limit, and the great metropolis of
the world to be sinking down, worn out by its
own effeminacy.

There were, indeed, schools of learning, supported
and regulated by the state, and a great university,
to which students from every part of the empire
resorted, to obtain" the advantage of a Roman
education ; and the philosophical professor might
be known by his peculiar dress. The teachers were
for the most part men opposed to the Christian
faith, who, by a revived and modified Platonism,
explained away the grosser features of Polytheism,
and put forward views of philosophy and morals,
which, with the utmost zeal and talents, they
opposed to the doctrines of the Gospel. Here
Ammianus publicly read his admired history, the
eloquent and virtuous Symmachus pleaded almost
with fanaticism for the toleration of the religion of
their fathers ; and the philosophers (as Eunapius
and Libanius) published explanations of the popular
religion, and attributed miracles to the distinguished
leaders of their schools, which had not long before
received a temporary patronage under the apostate
Julian.

Such were the varied and strange objects which,
so far as it was not Christian, Rome presented to
the view of the British stranger who now made his

ST. NINIAN'S JOURNEY TO ROME 267

way along its streets. Nor indeed would the
Christian community seem exempt from the corrup-
tion of the atmosphere in which it lived. Besides
the Catholics, we must remember, there were
numerous bodies of heretics, especially Manichees,
assuming the name of Christians, and sometimes
concealing themselves among them, who endeavoured,
by their subtle disputations, and professions of
austerity, to gain over converts from the true faith.
These were most numerous at Rome, and lived in
a miserable way, dispersed through all the quarters
of the city, and though professing a severe life,
really given up to self-indulgence, and bringing
reproach upon their name by their immoralities
and crimes. Here might be seen parties of Sara-
baites, vagabond and pretended monks, who lived
two or three together, under no rule or government,
exhibiting pretended sanctity, as a cloak for indul-
gence, fasting for display, and when a feast came,
giving way to excess. Superstition, too, doubtless
existed among the people, and vices inconsistent
with the religion they professed. For the good,
it has been said, are as grains among the chaff;
here one and there one, from the accident of their
position, stand prominently out, and are discerned
almost buried in the surrounding mass, which gives
its own complexion to the whole. These things
would strike the eye of the casual observer, and it
might, perhaps, too, surprise one who had not con-
sidered that the Church was a net inclosing bad
and good, and that the irreligion and superstition
of the mass of men would abuse and discredit the
holiest system.

268 ST. NINIAN

If St. Ninian had not thought of this, there would
doubtless be much among the Roman Christians to
shock and to distress him. That Church he had
looked to, as the model of excellence and the guide
to truth ; to be taught by her he had relinquished
home and friends, and now he saw, even in her
bosom, and under the very eye of the Saintly
Bishop, gross and evident sin. " I know," says
St. Augustine, " that there are many who adore
sepulchres and pictures " ; and so by superficial
or evil-disposed persons, among heretical or pagan
contemporaries, the Church was accused of intro-
ducing a new idolatry of martyrs and relics, and
substituting as objects of divine worship those whose
tombs were consecrated by the veneration of the
people.1 "I know," proceeds the Saint, "that
there are many who drink to excess on occasion
of burials, and make great feasts, under pretence
of religion."2 Among their testimonies to their
generally consistent and virtuous lives, the very
heathens we find charging Christians with immoral-
ity, with the more earnestness because of its con-
tradicting the rules they professed. Violence,
party spirit, ambition, found a place among them.
The election of the present Bishop — for at Rome
the whole body of Christians had a voice in the
choice of their Bishop — had been attended with
violence and bloodshed. The clergy were often
secular in their habits, endeavouring to gain favour
with the rich, and using their influence to obtain

1 As by Eunapius and Faustus the Manichee, quoted by Gibbon, c.
28, notes 60 and 88.

2 St. Aug. de Moribus Eccl. Christ. I. c. 34.

ST. NINIAN'S JOURNEY TO ROME 269

legacies ; so that the civil power interfered by
law to check the evil. The wealthy were infected
by the luxury of the age and yielded to the
pleasures and dissipation common to their class.
It might fall to St. Ninian's lot to witness the
sad abuses which were practised on the vigil of
some martyr, corrupting the holiest services to
evil ; abuses such that the celebrations them-
selves were suppressed by St. Ambrose, and the
abuses provided against, by the influence of St.
Augustine.

But indeed, how could it be otherwise, when the
world was flocking into the Church. " In speaking
against such men," is St. Augustine's answer, "you
do but condemn those whom the Church herself
condemns, and daily labours to correct, as wicked
children. It is one thing that we are commanded
to teach, another we are commanded to correct,
and forced to tolerate till we can amend it." For
the last seventy years the emperors had been, with
few exceptions, professed Christians ; they had en-
couraged the same profession in others, and men
influenced by the consideration of worldly interest,
and with no serious sense of religion, would out-
wardly embrace it. And let us not forget that
by doing so, faulty as the motive might be, they
yet brought themselves and those dependent on
them, under a holy discipline, and to the enjoy-
ment of privileges, and inward influences, which
might prevail in their children's case if not in
their own, and lead them to eternal life. Still
this prevalence of an external profession could not
but have the effect of lowering the apparent

2;o ST. NINIAN

standard of Christian holiness. It needed a coun-
teracting influence, that the Church might still be
the light of the world and the salt of the earth ;
and it found it in the visible separation from the
world, and eminent sanctity of those who followed
out their baptismal vows by the relinquishment of
all earthly ties, and the professed adoption of a
religious life. The Holy virgins and monks it was
who now kept alive the flame of piety, and were,
so to say, the soul of the Church. And their
holiness testified perpetually against the unworthy
lives of others. This is ever to be kept in mind
when we read (as in St. Jerome or St. Sulpicius)
of the evil and worldly lives of the clergy of their
time. They had before them high living standards
of the devotion and sanctity suited to the Christian
calling, and saw more vividly any departure from it.
It was the disciple and biographer of St. Martin,
and the monk of Palestine, the admirers and
advocates of perfect self-denial, and the ascetic
life, who chiefly speak of the evils prevalent among
Christians. That they discerned these evils implied
that the principle of right, the conscience of the
Church, was sensitive and whole. There are ages
where Christians so lose the true standard, that
they are unconscious of their loss.

This may guard us against misjudging the Church
which St. Ninian now visited, whilst in endeavouring
to portray its real condition, we repeat what con-
temporaries have said of the evils which existed
in it.

Externally indeed the Church of Rome had now
attained to great splendour and magnificence. The

ST. NINIAN'S JOURNEY TO ROME 271

time had come when the wealth of the nations
poured in to her, and "she decked herself with
jewels as a bride doth." The very Christians who
had endured the last and most trying persecution
of Dioclesian, raised up more splendid churches than
he had destroyed. Long before, during her earlier
persecutions, the sacred vessels were of gold and
silver. Martyrs suffered because they refused to
give up the holy trust, and we know the details
of them from the very inventories made by the
spoilers.1 If, then, confessorship be an argument
for sanctity, and sanctity for a perception of the
truth, we have this authority for decking with
magnificent adornings the Christian Churches, as
the Jewish Temple was by Divine command. In
Rome, the Basilicas had been given to the Church,
noble oblong buildings, with rows of columns
running lengthwise, and forming, as it were, a nave
and aisles. Other Churches were erected over the
tombs of Martyrs, where the awful service of the
Christian Sacrifice was performed, according to the
majestic and simple Liturgy which the Church had
received from St. Peter. The taste and magnificence
of the present Pope had contributed much to adorn-
ing the sacred edifices, and enhancing the grandeur
of the services. For the continuous praise of the
ever blessed Trinity he had provided for the chaunt-
ing of the Psalter night and day, with the Doxology
as we now use it. He had built two Basilicas, and
given costly offerings of gold and silver vessels to
others. Around the altars, lamps of gold, and wax
lights in massive candlesticks, burnt by day and

1 Bingham, 8. 6. 21.

272 ST. NINIAN

night, dispelling the natural light. The perfumed
cloud of incense rose up in the solemn service of
the Mass. Gold and silver vessels, and precious
stones furnished and adorned the Churches, and
garlands and flowers hung around ; nay, the devo-
tion of the people made them hang up, on cords
of gold, memorials in precious metals of the blessings
they had received in answer to their prayers, or
through the intercession of the Martyr, over whose
grave the Church was raised.1

Such were the Churches and Services of Rome, and
so deeply was St. Ninian influenced by them, that
his first work, on returning as a Missionary into
Britain, was to build a Church after the Roman
fashion, and there, with the faith of the Roman
Church, to introduce her custom in the celebration
of Divine offices.

There was one object of surpassing interest, to
which first he made his way — the Churches where
the martyred remains of St. Peter and St. Paul were
laid. The body of St. Paul had been buried a little
distance from Rome, on the Ostian road, where his
Church now stands; that of St. Peter, on the Vatican,
probably by the Jewish Christians who lived in that
quarter. Afterwards part of each was laid beside
that of the other, in vaults in their respective
Churches, that as they were lovely in their lives
they might not be divided in death. These were
recognised as their burial-places at the end of the
second century, and at this time, St. Jerome says,
"the Bishops of Rome offered the Holy Sacrifice
to God over the revered bones of departed human

1 Bingham, 8. 8. 2.

ST. NINIAN'S JOURNEY TO ROME 273

beings, and considered their tombs as Altars of
Christ." The Vatican, where the more splendid
vault and Church were placed, was known as the
Confession of St. Peter and the Limina Apostolorum.
Hither sentiments of devotion drew Christians, at this
time, from all parts of the world, emperors, consuls,
and generals, says St. Chrysostom, devoutly visited
the sepulchres of those who in their lives had been
lowly in the world, but were now exalted.

To seem to be, were it only in imagination,
brought near to those chiefest of the Apostles, and
most blessed Martyrs, must have been esteemed by
St. Ninian a singular privilege. It is a natural senti-
ment which men of all ages are affected by. " We
move," said the philosophic heathen, " in those places
where there are, as it were, the very footmarks of
those we admire and love. For my own part Athens
itself does not so much delight me by exquisite
and magnificent works of art, as by calling to mind
those greatest of men ; where each was wont to live,
to sit, and to discourse ; and their burial-places I
look on with the intensest interest." How much
more to a Christian to trace in Rome the places
which had been consecrated by the footsteps, the
blood, the very remains, of the Apostles. To recall
the image of St. Paul, the aged prisoner, his deep
knowledge of Christian Truth, his zeal, his constrain-
ing eloquence, his patience, his charity ; — or of St.
Peter, full of love for his Lord, of humility, of
readiness to die and to prefer a death of pain for
His sake. It was the belief that their spirit and
doctrine were preserved here which brought St.
Ninian from his distant home. Rome had killed

VOL. V. S

274 ST. NINIAN

them — Rome for which they had laboured and inter-
ceded ; and the blood of Martyrs, like that of their
Lord, cries for mercy on their persecutors, and brings
blessings on the Church for which they had shed
their blood. So they became the life of Rome.
Persons taking a mere external view saw this.
Rome went to decay, and "like Thebes, Babylon,
or Carthage," says the historian of her fall, " its name
might have been erased from the earth, if the city
had not been animated by a vital principle which
again restored her to honour and dominion. Two
Jewish teachers" (so he speaks), "a tentmaker and
a fisherman, had been executed in the circus of Nero,
and five hundred years after their relics were adored
as the Palladium of Christian Rome " : and a glory
and a kingdom were given to it before which the
ancient empire sank into inferiority.

To these shrines St. Ninian came, with a heart
full of devout sentiments ; with gratitude that he
should have been brought to this great object of
his desire ; that he, a Briton, from almost another
world, might approach the very remains of the
Apostles ; and with earnest prayers for the further-
ance of his designs. " He shed tears," as the simple
narrative proceeds, "before the holy relics of the
Apostles, as pledges of his devotion, and with many
prayers commended his desire to their patronage."

CHAPTER V

ST. NINIAN'S LIFE AT ROME

AFTER having thus performed his devotions at the
tombs of the Apostles, St. Ninian sought the Pope,
and laid before him the object of his journey. It had
long been usual for Christians, in travelling from one
part of the Church to another, to take with them
commendatory letters from the Bishop of their own
Church, which should be an evidence of their being
in the Catholic Communion, and a recommendation
to the Churches which they might visit. Such we
suppose St. Ninian to have brought and to have
presented to St. Damasus, who had now for nearly
twenty years occupied the holy See, having been
elected at sixty years of age, in 366. By this aged
Saint he was most kindly received, and the object
of his leaving his home and seeking the Church of
Rome heartily entered into and approved. St.
Damasus, himself, was a man of taste and learning.
Some of his sacred poems and official letters have
come down to us. He was also a great encourager
of learned men, and prompted them to undertake
works for the service of religion ; one especially, the
Translation and Commentaries on the Scriptures
by St. Jerome, was the fruit of his suggestions, for
which alone he deserves our gratitude. This Saint

375

2;6 ST. NINIAN

was probably with him about the time St. Ninian
came : he resided at Rome for two years, at the wish
of the Pope ; and assisted him in these last years
of his life in writing those important letters, on
many nice and important points of doctrine and
ecclesiastical rules, which the See of Rome, con-
sulted and appealed to from every part of Christen-
dom, had continually to send out. And it may
throw light on the real character of St. Damasus,
who is said to have wrought miracles in life and
after death, to consider him as supporting under
strong unpopularity the austere and simple-mannered
Jerome, and selecting him as his confidential adviser ;
and as entering, with the kindness and interest of a
father (for he embraced him, it is said, as his own
son), into the views of the devout Ninian, who, from
a simple desire after the knowledge of Christian
Truth, had given up all the world had to offer him.
For, outwardly, St. Damasus lived in a splendour
which emperors might envy, and had a mind which
delighted in great and magnificent works. Whilst
Christian Bishops in general lived with simplicity,
external humility, and often in poverty, the Bishops
of Rome were surrounded by pomp and grandeur.
But under this external splendour how often in
every age has there been concealed a true poverty
of spirit and a self-denying life. St. Jerome, who
knew well the character of the Pope, and whose
sincerity and severe standard of Christian holiness
renders his testimony most valuable, designates him
as " of holy memory."

St. Ninian was received by him with the utmost
kindness, with, as has been said, the affection of a

ST. NINIAN'S LIFE AT ROME 277

father. He laid open the object for which he had
come to Rome ; and how highly does it speak for
the deeply devout character of the Pope, now nearly
eighty years of age, that he should enter into and
approve a course which had about it so much which
in other matters we should call romantic. How
rarely do we find the aged capable of entering into
the feelings of the young, in cases especially, where
worldly interests are concerned, and the usual course
of action is departed from. The mere natural dis-
position of old men leads them to look on the
self-forgetfulness of the young as a kind of folly,
which experience and sobriety of spirit will wean
them from. Such is the temper to which intercourse
with the world, and the downward and hardening
tendencies of our evil nature, incline us, even towards
what is right, and good, and noble, in the tempera-
ment of the young. But not such is the aged
Christian. He has learnt by experience the true
value of that Pearl of great price, and the worth-
lessness of the world's best treasures. In him love
has been warmed and deepened ; and self-sacrifice
become a practical and habitual principle. So that,
whilst he has the discriminating eye which sees the
true path of duty, and distinguishes between a course
suggested by mere emotion or self-will, and that to
which the guidance of the Holy Spirit leads the
youthful scholar in the saintly life, he yet is not
wanting in the fullest sympathy with all that is
noble and disinterested in his spirit. The Christian
mind is one in all, and produces a mutual sympathy
in those in whom it exists. Diversities of race and
climate, of station, age, employment, which swallow

278 ST. NINIAN

up the whole character in others, are but an outside
clothing to Christians, and fade away before the
unity of that in which the moral being really con-
sists. And age and youth love to dwell together
in sympathy and peace.

Ninian was placed by St. Damasus under the
care of teachers, who instructed him systematically
in the doctrines of the Faith. He was, as Bede
expresses it, regulariter doctus. We do not, indeed,
know what provision was made for the teaching
of Christian doctrine to individuals. It would seem
as if, as yet, it had not assumed any very system-
atic shape. From the first, the teachers (Doctors)
formed one class of the Christian ministry. They
whose gifts, extraordinary or ordinary, qualified
them more especially for the office of instructing
others in the Faith, would be employed in pre-
paring converts and catechumens for baptism ; and
it seems most probable that they would themselves
advance in the study of Holy Scripture, and the
Christian writers, and in the further training up
of others. And this was one use of the Minor
Orders of the clergy, in which, according to the
rule of the apostle, they served a sort of probation
for the diaconate ; and under the eye of the bishop,
and the teaching of the Doctors, prepared them-
selves for the higher offices. At Alexandria the
Church taught all learning, human and divine. In
other Churches, secular and preparatory knowledge
of the arts and sciences, was learnt from the estab-
lished heathen institutions ; and Christian know-
ledge from their own Clergy.

Under the care of his present teachers St. Ninian

ST. NINIAN'S LIFE AT ROME 279

had every reason to rejoice in the step he had
taken. " The youth, full of the spirit of God, per-
ceived that he had not run or laboured in vain, as he
now understood that from their unskilful teachers,
he and his countrymen had believed many things
opposed to sound docrine." He met with that
satisfaction which the mind feels in the con-
sistency of the truths put before it ; and still more
the peace resulting from the confidence which such
harmony inspires, that it is indeed the truth itself
respecting the Supreme Object of his desire, love,
and reverence ; and not a shadow which it grasps
instead. And the Holy Scriptures, now explained
in their true sense, harmonised with the doctrines
inculcated.

The advantages he enjoyed, in this respect,
were very great. The Roman church was in-
deed the school of the true faith, and in its
atmosphere heretical teaching was at once dis-
covered. The controversies of the day had caused
the truth on the most essential Doctrines to be
elicited and defined ; and for the interpretation
of Scripture, the learning, and deep and clear
understanding of the Sacred writers, possessed
by St. Jerome, if not directly engaged in teaching
St. Ninian, must yet, without doubt, have had their
influence on those to whom St. Damasus committed
him for instruction. It was the time, too, when the
spiritual understanding of Scripture was being
brought out so much by St. Ambrose. And all
the teaching he then obtained, whether from the
lips of his instructors or the writings of the
great teachers of the Church, was eagerly learnt

280 ST. NINIAN

and carefully stored up by St. Ninian for his
present comfort, and to be brought out in future
years for the instruction of others. In St. Aelred's
words. " Applying himself with entire eagerness
to the Word of God, he drew from the views of
different teachers, as the laden bee from various
flowers, the rich honey with which he filled the
cells of wisdom, and stored them in the hive of
his heart, to be kept there, to be meditated on,
and afterwards brought out for the refreshment
and support of his inner man, and the consolation
of many others."

It was indeed a worthy recompense, that he,
who for the love of the truth had thought lightly
of home, country, wealth, and pleasures, should, so
to say, be led into the innermost shrine of truth,
and admitted to the very treasures of wisdom and
knowledge ; should receive for carnal, spiritual ; for
earthly, heavenly ; for temporal, eternal goods. He
was happy. For he had now found a home ; for
what is a home but a place where we meet with
abiding sympathy — where we feel we can repose
on those who love us, and whom we love. He
had left a home which was dear to him ; one which
he might well and holily love ; but he had found
another, where he had what his own home could
not give, the knowledge of his Saviour. He had
a new father in the holy Damasus, and guides and
directors in his wise teachers, and doubtless many
brethren, for not in vain would he pray, " Let such
as fear Thee, and have known Thy testimonies, be
turned unto me." And Rome was full of objects
for a Christian to admire and love.

ST. NINIAN'S LIFE AT ROME 281

It so happens that, chiefly from St. Jerome's
letters, we know much of the spiritual history of
the Roman Church, and of what occurred there
about this time ; and, as St. Ninian must have been
influenced by what was going on, and our esti-
mate of what he was must be to a greater degree
formed by knowing the characters held in esteem
at that day, some longer reference to them may
be excused.

For the first two or three years of his stay St.
Jerome was residing there, beloved and esteemed
by the good for the holiness of his life, his humility,
and learning. Intimately associated as he was with
St. Damasus, particularly in his theological studies,
it is not unnatural to suppose that the young in-
quirer after truth had opportunities of drinking in
the lessons of wisdom from his lips. For the
Saint suffered, it is said, from sore eyes, and so
was led to spend more time in oral teaching and
conversation. One of his chief employments was
to answer the inquiries of those who consulted him
on the interpretation of Holy Scripture, and he
was ever ready to afford the benefits of his in-
struction to those who sought it. There can be
little doubt that St. Ninian would earnestly desire
to hear him, or that opportunities would be given
him.

Not long after his arrival another event occurred
which must have been most interesting to him, and
have made him feel as in the very metropolis of
the Church. In the year 382, a council was held
in Rome, at which Bishops were assembled, whose
names have ever been honoured, and whom St.

282 ST. NINIAN

Ninian through life might remember. St. Ascholius,
Bishop of Thessalonica, was here, the intimate friend
of St. Athanasius, one who had laboured in the
conversion of the Goths, a work like that to which
the latter part of St. Ninian's own life was to be
devoted. St. Epiphanius, too, the aged Bishop of
Salamis, and Paulinus of Antioch, had come with
St. Jerome, and spent the winter of 382-3 in Rome,
lodging in the house of the holy widow, St. Paula.
Epiphanius, now above seventy years of age, had
lived through the troubled times of Arianism. He
was the scholar and the dear friend of the sainted
hermit, Hilarion, and his own life had for many
years been spent in religious solitude, whence he
had derived a severe and unbending character, and
was now highly honoured in the Church. St.
Ambrose was here, and lodged in the house of
his sister, St. Marcellina, to whom he was indebted
for the blessings of a religious education, and for
a bright example of sincere piety. She had
thirty years before put on the religious habit, and
devoted herself to a life of singular holiness in
retirement, silence, and prayer, — the secret cause,
it may be, in some degree of that glory which
shone forth in her brother.

It was a time when many Roman ladies of high
rank and wealth retired from the world, and devoted
themselves in their own homes, and with their near
relations, to the exercises of religion and works of
charity. Each house was a little monastery, where
prayer and praise, and fasting and watching, dwelt
with love and abundant almsgiving, and works of
mercy for the souls and bodies of others — widowed

ST. NINIAN'S LIFE AT ROME 283

mothers, with their daughters, giving up the enjoy-
ment of wealth and station, and withdrawing to
be nearer God. Such was the natural way in which,
before the systematic introduction of monastic rules,
pious Christians adopted a mode of life which enabled
them to serve God without distraction, in prayer and
the practice of charity.

Such was St. Marcella, whom St. Jerome calls the
glory of the Roman ladies. She had, after losing her
husband, early endeavoured to imitate the ascetics of
the East, of whom she had heard from St. Athanasius.
She refused to marry again, and employed herself
in works of devotion and charity. Her example was
followed by many noble maidens, who placed them-
selves under her care, and many religious societies
were formed in consequence.

One of the most distinguished of her spiritual
children was St. Paula, whom she had comforted
on the death of her husband, and induced to forsake
the world. St. Paula was descended from one of
the noblest Roman families, and had given up great
riches and a high place in society, to seek consola-
tion in God. She had now adopted a life of
retirement and poverty in the possession of wealth,
inquiring out the poor and relieving them with her
own hand. " She could make," she said, " no better
provision for her children than by drawing on them
by her alms, the blessings of heaven." Her time
was chiefly spent in religious reading and prayer.
She avoided the distractions of society, seeking only
the edifying conversation of religious people. At
her house, as was said, St. Epiphanius and Paulinus
were lodged, and St. Jerome was her spiritual guide

284 ST. NINIAN

during his stay in Rome. There were many others,
some of whom, in the society of their own families,
formed religious retreats ; others united together,
under the guidance of a holy and experienced
matron. It is most interesting to see the way in
which these associations sprung up. The spon-
taneous growth, as it were, of a deep sense of the
truths of religion, and of love to God and man.
The example of the solitaries of Egypt had but to
be set before them, and they whose hearts were
prepared followed it. A few were influenced at
first, and from them it spread to greater numbers.
They were possessed with the desire of leading a
heavenly life on earth, and embraced it under such
forms as naturally suggested themselves. We call
their houses monasteries, but they are so different
from what we usually associate with the name that
it is apt to mislead us. They were simple and
natural associations of religious persons, living in
ordinary dwellings, and devoting themselves to a
strict life of silence, abstinence, and prayer, to
labour and works of love ; and they might rise up
spontaneously in any Church where there was the
spirit which at first gave them birth.

The monasteries of Rome, as being religious com-
munities formed in the very heart of the city, are
highly commended by St. Augustine. " The religious
lived together, under the care of a virtuous and
learned priest, maintaining themselves by their own
labour, ordinarily having but one meal each day,
and that towards night ; some fasting for longer
periods, even for three or more days, but no one
being forced to undergo austerities he could not

ST. NINIAN'S LIFE AT ROME 285

bear." It was most natural for St. Ninian to join
some such body ; for he was separated from his
country, without any ties in the world, or any
home but what the Church offered, and so to unite
himself to a body of like - minded brethren, in a
society of religious men, living together under
some rule, was the obvious course by which to seek
for support, sympathy, and improvement. Here
he was free from the wretchedness and the sights
of evil which a life in the city would bring. He
might live in silent study, or laborious occupation,
enjoying the blessing of undistracted attention to
Divine things, without the chill of solitude, the
presence of his brethren assisting him to realise
that of those unseen Beings who are ever around
us. The examples of holy men, seen in their daily
round of employments, their humility, recollection,
patience, industry, and self - denial, how great a
privilege to one who was endeavouring himself to
grow in grace, and to learn to copy what was
good and profitable in others. And that he adopted
this course, which was what the most religious
people of his time would do, is confirmed by the
circumstance, that St. Siricius, who chose him to
be a Bishop, particularly favoured the practice of
selecting the Clergy from such monastic bodies.

Thus St. Ninian lived for the next fifteen years,
fifteen years of what is called the best part of a
man's life, gradually advancing in that holiness
which was afterwards manifested in his works on
earth, and his availing power with heaven ; growing
in gentleness, self-devotion, and recollection, and
meanwhile making progress in the depth and ac-

286 ST. NINIAN

curacy of his views of Divine truth, and in the
understanding of Holy Scripture. It was, accord-
ing to men's present views, a long time to spend
in comparative inactivity, where the missionary
life was that for which he was destined. It was,
as they say, shutting up in a cloister, power, and
energy, and goodness, which might have been more
usefully engaged in doing good to others. But
very different from the hurried eagerness of men
for immediate visible results, is the calm majestic
march of the Divine dispensations, and the course
of those of His servants in whom they are imitated.
He waited four thousand years before He under-
took His work. He would have His servants well
matured in knowledge and love before they take
in hand the offices they are designed for, and is
willing that there should be a long and seemingly
unprofitable toil, in preparing deep and strong
foundations for the structure He would raise. One
well prepared and sanctified character exercises far
more influence for good, than many ordinary ones.
Such an one is a true standard of what we should
aim to be, and as such attracts the hearts of those
who are prepared to receive the truth. He is fit
to guide, and by his deep practical wisdom, and
weight of character, has a constraining power over
even unwilling minds. St. Ninian might have
engaged early in missionary labours, and have
been as others are. He waited, growing more and
more in holiness ; and he went forth to work
miracles, and to convert the nations.

Nor should it surprise us, that so long a time
should be spent in the study of Divine truth.

ST. NINIAN'S LIFE AT ROME 287

Nearly as long a time given exclusively to that
highest object of the human mind, was not of old
thought too much for preparing one who was to
teach others. It is our low standard of theological
attainments, which makes a few months seem
enough to prepare for expounding the mysteries of
the Gospel ; and it is our diversion into matters
only accidentally connected with Theology proper,
which leads us to conceive the knowledge of the
divine unnecessary, if not prejudicial to his practical
usefulness in influencing the hearts of men. Critic-
ism and Antiquities, Church History and Evidences,
viewed externally, and by themselves, are thought,
and rightly so, to be of little use to one who has
the care of souls. But such is not the case with
Theology, properly so called, that is the knowledge
of what we are to believe, and what we are to do ;
the more exact knowledge of Him, Whom truly to
know is everlasting life ; the true vision of Whom
keeps the soul and its affections in their right
position, whilst errors and false views distort and
deprave them ; this is real Theology. It is Dog-
matic Theology which contemplates, defines, and
gives exactness to our views of that truth by which
we are sanctified ; Controversial Theology, which
enables us to guard the truth from corruption, and
to watch against the first inroads of error. Surely,
to a holy mind, such contemplations are alike the
highest employment of the understanding, and tend
most to his own sanctification, and his power of
teaching others. St. Thomas, the most profound
of schoolmen, was the most devout of Saints, and
the most powerful preacher. His prayers are

288 ST. NINIAN

among the choicest treasures of the Church. His
sermons awakened and converted the most ignorant
and hardened sinners.

And as regards Moral Theology, with its hand-
maids, Casuistical and Ascetic, contemplating what
we ought to be, and to do, in principle and detail,
and how we may attain to a saintly temper ; what
time and thought can be too much for attaining
to exactness of knowledge here, by one who is
really to be a guide to others? How many nice
points are to be determined ! How many difficult
questions in the treatment of the souls of men in
their varied spiritual conditions ! What grave con-
sideration of duties and principles ! It betokens
indeed that men have fallen into a low religious
condition, when they cannot even estimate the
value of deep and long continued study on such
subjects. If it be kept in mind that Theology,
rightly so called, is the knowledge of God, and
how we may please Him, it will be evident, that
as the one great requisite for the study of it is a
holy life, so it is the first business of the Clergy to
attain proficiency in it, and that no extent of real
attainment can be too much — they ought to draw
all their care and study this way. This will be the
guide of their course of study, and will arrange in
due subordination the various other branches of know-
ledge, and enable them to derive from each what it
can minister to their highest end. It will secure the
knowledge of those truths which are essential, will
determine the extent and the end for which we should
pursue the rest. No subject of human knowledge will
then be without its use and due position.

ST. NINIAN'S LIFE AT ROME 289

Of the course of study St. Ninian would go
through, we may form probably a very fair notion
from a Treatise of St. Augustine, written not long
after, designed to direct the studies of those who
were to be teachers of others.

The main object to which he directed the student
was the right understanding and explanation of
the Holy Scriptures. This seems to be viewed
as the chief business of the Christian teacher, and
it is to this end that all other studies are made
subordinate. But first, he was to know those prin-
ciples to which all interpretations must be con-
formed — the principles of Christian Faith, Hope,
and Charity. Of Faith, in the full knowledge and
understanding of the Creed ; of Hope, and of the
sum of evangelical morality in the love of God
above all things, and of our brethren in Him, and
for His sake ; and any interpretation which is
inconsistent with these principles, whether as sanc-
tioning immorality, or erroneous doctrine, must be
wrong. Next, presupposing that the student has,
by personal religion, entered on the steps of wisdom,
beginning with the fear of the Lord, he is to learn
the rules and principles of literal and spiritual
interpretation, the latter being the chief study of
the expositor. In connection with this, he is to
acquire a knowledge of Scripture criticism, of the
right text, and translation ; of history, natural
science, logic, and all other subjects which may
be useful to him as subsidiary learning. Lastly,
he is to study how to express to others what he
himself has learnt, by acquiring the art of Christian
eloquence. The first and second of these subjects

VOL. V. T

290 ST. NINIAN

we may conceive would form the principal part
of St. Ninian's studies, the doctrines of the faith
and Christian love, and the spiritual interpretation
of Scripture, for both of which he would find so
great assistance in the works of contemporary
writers, or of those who had gone before ; as well
as by the oral teaching of the doctors, of the Roman
Church.

So much of apology, if it be needed, for St.
Ninian's living for fifteen years, in what the world
would call a comparatively narrow sphere at Rome,
but really, in a life of labour, thought, and constant
endeavour after improvement.

Every thing here combined for his advancement
in fitness for his great destiny. Rome was the
centre of the Christian world. Errors and disputes
were heard of, examined, and determined there ;
each improvement in the rules of holy living, each
practical advancement in Church discipline and
conduct, was brought into this great resort and
emporium of the Christian world, while the steady
orthodoxy of the Church enabled it to look with
discrimination on the opinions and practices which
rose up around it.

The details of St. Ninian's life here are quite
unknown, but general history relates many events,
which must have exercised an important influence
upon him.

Within three or four years after his arrival, St.
Ninian sustained a heavy loss in the death of his
kind patron, St. Damasus, who died the tenth of
December, in the year 384 ; being then nearly
eighty years of age. He was succeeded by St.

ST. NINIAN'S LIFE AT ROME 291

Siricius, who, twelve years after, was to consecrate
and send out St. Ninian. For some time he was
unacquainted with him, as was natural in so large
a Church, and when St. Ninian did not occupy a
prominent place. St. Ninian, therefore, deprived
of the friendship and countenance of St. Damasus,
was left to go on in the ordinary course.

About this time he was, most probably, admitted
to the minor orders as a Reader. For we have
the rules which St. Siricius sent to the Church of
Spain, immediately on his election, February 385,
in which he determines the regular gradation of
offices. One who from infancy was devoted to the
service of the Church, was to be baptised before
he was fourteen, and placed in the rank of Readers.
If his life was approved till he was thirty, he was
made an Acolyte and Sub-deacon, and if judged
worthy, a Deacon, after having previously made a
promise of continence. Then, after five years' ser-
vice, he might be admitted to the Priesthood, and,
after ten more, to the Episcopate. Such was the
long probation and service for the sacred ministry
in those days. And though, very probably, in St.
Ninian's case, as in others, peculiar circumstances
might be a ground for departing from it in some
points, we may suppose it observed on the whole :
and that he went through the regular course of
clerical offices in Rome.

Meanwhile important events were occurring around
him ; events in which the whole Church has since
been interested. The conversion of St. Augustine
and his baptism at Milan, occurred at Easter, 387 ;
and the latter part of that year, after the death of his

292 ST. NINIAN

mother, and whole of the following one, he spent
at Rome. It is not unnatural to suppose that he and
St. Ninian might meet ; the more humble talents of
the Briton, being in the eyes of St. Augustine far
more than compensated by that spotless purity of
heart which enjoyed the blessedness of seeing God.
The one baptised in infancy had by habitual obedi-
ence, kept his robes unstained. The other, washed
from a load of actual sins, was now at the eleventh
hour labouring more than any, and by his zeal and
earnestness making way beyond them.

About this time, too, the Emperor Theodosius
visited Italy, and great exertions were in vain used
to prevail on him to favour the depressed cause of
paganism ; it was his resolution which led to the
entire fall of the ancient superstition. His visit to
Rome in 389 gave the last blow to idolatry. He
entered the city with Valentinian, and then it was
that the most distinguished families embraced Chris-
tianity, the Anicii, Probi, Pauli, Gracchi. The people
ran in crowds to the Vatican, to venerate the tombs
of the Apostles, or to the Lateran to be baptised ;
but few adhered to the ancient superstitions. The
temples were filled with cobwebs and soon fell to
ruin ; and the idols were left alone under their roofs
with the owls and the bats.

The time was now approaching when he was to be
called to that work for which the providence of God
had long been training him. Year after year had
passed, and, to himself, it might seem as if he was
doing but little service, and was an unprofitable
servant : but a preparation was going on in the prac-
tice of humble obedience, and in His own good time

ST. NINIAN'S LIFE AT ROME 293

God called on him to take his great work in hand.
The duties of the offices he had been placed in
afforded an opportunity for his good qualities to be
seen and generally recognised. Purity, wisdom, and
circumspectness, are the points specially mentioned ;
and those of them which may be considered as in-
tellectual gifts, are just of the kind which would be
formed and developed by religious principles ; the
absence of hurry and excitement, calm considerate-
ness, a fair estimate of others, are the natural fruits of
that confidence in God which trusts that all will be
controlled for good, which sets their true value on the
things of the world and the events of time, and so is
without anxiety ; of charity, which despises no one,
but sympathises with their difficulties, puts itself in
the place of others, and enters into their views ; and
of honesty and simplicity of aim, which has no bye
ends to entangle, or duplicity to involve it. It is from
these qualities that wisdom in counsel springs. And
to be gradually entrusted with offices of responsi-
bility, in subordination to higher authority, the
learning practically to rule and to be ruled, in the
successive steps of the lower clerical offices, was the
very means to form the mind of the future saint to
this prudence in judging and circumspection in acting.
And his excellences by degrees became generally
matter of remark, and brought him under the notice
and, ultimately, into esteem and familiar association
with St. Siricius.

" While he was spoken of by all as chaste in body,
wise in understanding, provident in counsel, circum-
spect in every word and deed, he rose to the favour
and friendship of the Pope himself."

294 ST. NINIAN

The advantages to be derived from this position
were, we need not say, very great, in fitting him for
the work in which he was to engage ; and the know-
ledge of it gives us peculiar means of ascertaining the
views which St. Ninian entertained on many im-
portant subjects, and which he brought into our own
country. For we know those of St. Siricius ; and, con-
sidering that after this intimate acquaintance with
him the Pope fixed on him as the fittest person to
correct the errors which prevailed among the British
Christians, we cannot doubt that Ninian's views coin-
cided with his own ; the more so as his professed
intention was to teach in Britain the doctrines of the
Roman Church.

The decretals of St. Siricius sent to the Church of
Spain in 385 have already been referred to ; they
recognise, it need scarcely be said, a monastic system,
as an established custom, approved and encouraged
by the Church. A strict penitential discipline and
the celibacy of the Clergy are presupposed as right,
regulated and enforced. A formal expression of the
same views was elicited by the heresy of Jovinian,
who, amongst other errors, maintained " that virgins
have no more merit than widows or married women,
and that there is no difference between abstaining
from meats and using them with thanksgiving."
With these easy doctrines it is no wonder he had
many followers at Rome ; persons who had long lived
in continence and mortification, married and returned
to a soft and unrestrained life. It did not, however,
number any Bishop among those who embraced it,
and in the year 390 an assembly of the Roman
Clergy was held, and the doctrines declared to be

ST. NINIAN'S LIFE AT ROME 295

contrary to the Christian truth ; and by the unani-
mous advice of the Priests and Deacons who were
present, and we can scarcely doubt St. Ninian was
among them, Jovinian and his followers were ex-
communicated.

CHAPTER VI

ST. NINIAN'S RETURN TO BRITAIN

AND now we may pass to the time when the Saint
was called to the high duties of a Bishop and a
Missionary. The activity and vigilance of St. Siricius
prompted him to act upon those feelings of sym-
pathising interest which give to every Church which
is a healthy member of the great Catholic body, a
deep concern in the welfare of every other part. If
one member suffer, all the members suffer with it.
Still more should he feel it who occupied the chief
See of Christendom ; on whom, in an especial manner,
it seemed incumbent to watch and provide for all, to
support the weak, to correct the erring, and to convert
the unbelieving ; and Siricius seems particularly to
have felt this interest in our remote and despised
country. It was compassion for half taught and mis-
guided Christians, for heathens and barbarians, for
whom the Son of God had shed His precious blood —
for immortal beings, who, unrescued, might perish for
ever, but by the power of the Gospel, would be
exalted to everlasting bliss, and swell the ranks of
the angelic choirs. It was compassion, such as two
centuries afterwards moved his successor, the saintly
Gregory, to yearn over the wretchedness of our Saxon
ancestors. These feelings in their case would go

ST. NINIAN'S RETURN TO BRITAIN 297

beyond the ordinary compassion which Christians
generally would have ; they would feel with the
blessed Apostle that they had the care of all the
Churches, and that the weak and the scandalised
were the special objects of their sympathy.

And in the case of St. Siricius there was happily
one at hand peculiarly suited for the work before him.
St. Ninian had waited long for this call to the office
for which Divine Providence had all along designed,
and been preparing him. Perhaps he would have no
thought of undertaking so great a work, or if ever a
desire had crossed his mind to impart to his country-
men the unspeakable blessings he had himself
obtained, it might be repressed as not to be thought
of, till some guiding of Providence, or obedience to
authority should determine it to be his duty, and
sanction his undertaking it. For it is not to be
imagined that Ninian had forgotten Britain. How
should he? Means of communication were regular
and speedy ; events of moment were frequently
occurring ; his countrymen, who, as we have heard,
made religious visits to the Holy Land, would often
draw to the city, to offer their devotions at the tombs
of the Apostles ; others would resort among the pro-
vincials for the advantages of the schools ; others
again, like himself, for religious improvement. Of
one such we know, St. Piran, the Cornish Saint, whose
Church in the Sand was recently brought to light.
He was a native of Ireland, and born about 352.
When about thirty years of age, and so nearly at the
same time as St. Ninian, having received some im-
perfect information about the Christian Faith, he
travelled to Rome for more complete instruction.

298 ST. NINIAN

He is supposed by the Irish writers to have been
consecrated at Rome, and returned home, accom-
panied by four Clerics, who were all afterwards
Bishops. With them St. Ninian would hold converse,
and hear the language, which, harsh as it may seem
to us, would sound sweet in his ears, as the language
of his home. By these means his information and
interest in Britain would be kept alive. And when
the holy Father, whose authority and wish would be
a command, called him to this work, we may imagine
that with his deep humility, and shrinking from an
office to which he would seem quite unequal, there
would be some warm feeling kindled, in the hope
that he might be a blessing to those he loved so
well.

In St. Aelred's words, " The Roman Pontiff had
heard that there were in the western part of Britain
some who had not yet embraced the faith of our
Saviour,1 some also who had heard the word of the
Gospel, but from heretical or ignorant teachers ;
and by the impulse of the Divine Spirit, he, with
his own hands, consecrated this man of God to the

1 It is most probable that attention was drawn to the condition of
the British of this district by the publication of St. Jerome's work
against Jovinian, which occurred in the year 393 or 394. It was
written at the request of some Christians at Rome, and excited great
interest there. In the second book he mentions that he had himself,
when a youth in Gaul, seen some of the Attacotti, a British tribe,
who ate human flesh ; and adds still more revolting details as to the
habits of their people. This tribe occupied the country between
Loch Lomond and Loch Fine. Such a statement could not fail to
excite inquiry, and lead the Pope to ascertain the real state of the
unconverted people, who, being of the same race, were within the
limits of the empire. The mission of St. Ninian was the natural
result.

ST. NINIAN'S RETURN TO BRITAIN 299

office of a Bishop, and sent him with the Apostolic
Benediction to this people."

This event most probably occurred in the spring
of the year 397. The date is determined by a cir-
cumstance which is on other accounts interesting,
and intimately connected with the history and
future character of St. Ninian. It is, that on his
way to Britain, he visited St. Martin of Tours, whose
name had recently been made known through the
whole Church by Sulpicius's life of him. Now St.
Martin, according to the best authorities, died in
November 397. The life in question was a narra-
tive, written by Sulpicius, for his friend St. Paulinus
of Nola, without any view to its becoming public.
It was, however, communicated by Paulinus to
others, and so spread with unprecedented rapidity.
This occurred within a year before the death of the
Saint, for it was after the death of St. Clare in the
previous November. And the sensation it produced
in Rome and throughout the Christian world was
incredible. The booksellers having at command
only the slow process of the human hand could
not have it copied so fast as to meet the demand,
and could sell it at almost any price ; it was con-
sidered the most gainful work they had ever had.
No book was so much read, or so eagerly sought
after ; it was in every one's hands, and everywhere
the subject of conversation. For it related of a
living Bishop so near them as in France, sanctity
almost unequalled, and miraculous powers, such as
were not then possessed by any one ; and these
recorded in graceful language, with the Latinity of
the purest ages, and the unaffected simplicity of a

300 ST. NINIAN

friend writing to a friend of what he had himself
seen and knov/n ; and with the deep and affec-
tionate reverence of a disciple, for one who had
guided him by example and instruction into the
ways of holiness and peace.

From this work, St. Ninian, as St. Aelred relates,
ardently desired to see and converse with the holy
man whose ways were depicted there, and accord-
ingly, on his way to Britain, diverged to Tours to
visit its Bishop.

We, too, have the beautiful picture which Sulpicius
has drawn, and for St. Ninian's sake, that we may
know the sort of person whom he looked on as a
model ; and for our own, that we may in this way
see the Saint ourselves, we will go along with him
to the Hermit Bishop, whom our northern Churches
venerate so highly.

St. Martin had long lived as a recluse, and when
the people of Tours would have him, in spite
of his poor clothes and mean appearance, to be
their Bishop, he kept up his holy solitude as much
as he could, in a cell adjoining his Church. This,
however, proved more liable to interruption than
he wished, so he went into a lonely spot a mile or
two from the town, where a sweep of the river left
a level grassy plain, which was shut out from the
country on its landward side by a line of precipi-
tous rocks, and accessible only by difficult paths.
Here he fixed his abode, and to him gathered
others who desired to be under his guidance, and,
forsaking the world, to imitate his humble and
mortified life. They were about sixty in number ;
some lived in cells built by themselves, many in

ST. NINIAN'S RETURN TO BRITAIN 301

caves in the rocks, and that in solitude, except
when they met for prayers, or at their meals, and
labouring, many by copying books, for their own
support. Above all, the Saint himself drew the
hearts of holy men to him by his humility, meek-
ness, and deep knowledge of religious truth. He
was quite an illiterate man, yet readily solved the
difficulties of Scripture. But his real life was hid
with Christ, and he was in continual communion
with Him, unceasingly praying, either by direct
supplication, or the inward lifting up of his soul to
God. His humility was remarkable ; he judged no
one, he condemned no one ; he was never irritated,
never depressed by sorrow, or excited by mirth,
but ever bearing in his looks a kind of heavenly
joyfulness. Christ only was on his lips, and in his
heart compassion, piety, and peace. Besides all
this, there was an awfulness thrown around him
by the visible tokens of the Divine presence in the
miracles he had wrought, miracles which have a
degree of evidence rarely to be met with.

To visit this saint, then, so marked by traits of
personal holiness, and the awful manifestations of
Divine authority accompanying his deeds, was the
object of St. Ninian on his way to Britain. " He
diverged to Tours," says St. Aelred, " filled with the
Holy Ghost, and touched by an eager desire of
seeing him."

Meanwhile St. Martin had been prepared for his
coming. " By the grace of prophetic illumination,
the virtues of the new Bishop were not unknown
to him. He was taught that he was sanctified by
the Holy Ghost, and would be the instrument of

302 ST. NINIAN

the salvation of many ; and, in consequence, with
what joy, devotion, and affection did he receive
him." Their time was spent in holy converse and
aspirations of divine love, Ninian, doubtless, being
eager to learn from so great a saint, and profiting
by his readiness to solve the difficulties of Scrip-
ture, and to speak of Christ and the rules of holy
living. He also gained another advantage. His
wish was to introduce religion into his country in
its completeness, to present it before his people,
not only in the statement of doctrines and rules of
practice, but as visibly embodied in the Church
and manifested in her sacred services ; it was his
intention to imitate, "as the faith, so the customs
of the Roman Church in building Churches and
arranging the services " ; and he requested St.
Martin to furnish him with masons for the work.
"In the tabernacle of the Lord two columns are
joined together, and two cherubim stretching out
their wings touch each other ; now borne up on
the wings of virtue they withdraw to be with God ;
now standing and letting them fall they conde-
scend to their neighbours. So these saints returned
from heavenly objects to the things of this world."
At last they parted. " They had feasted on their
mutual conversations as on heavenly banquets, and
separated with embraces, kisses, and tears shed in
common. St. Martin remained in his See. Ninian
hastened to the work for which he had been sent
forth by the Holy Ghost."

Such is the sympathy of holy men ; such their
love, seeming not to need the usual preparations
of human friendship ; but as they each have ad-

ST. NINIAN'S RETURN TO BRITAIN 303

vanced towards the one model, the image of Christ
enabling them to understand each other at once.

On his way through France and Belgium, as Came-
rarius reports, St. Ninian was anxious to labour for
the conversion of the people, and great numbers
were the fruit of his preaching. The authority how-
ever is very recent, and though he may be regarded,
like other later writers, as preserving and perpetu-
ating a tradition of a much earlier date, the evidence
is so slight, that we must leave the matter simply to
recommend itself by its internal probability.

And now, after an absence of many years, St.
Ninian is again in sight of the shores of Britain,
and gazes on its white cliffs as he nears his native
land. But greatly is he changed. He had gone
forth, young, uninformed, seeking to be taught the
truth. He returns in mature age, with solid judg-
ment, deep knowledge, confirmed faith, commissioned
to instruct others, and to impart to them those true
views of doctrine, and those many lessons of holy
living which he had been storing up. But with
how great a responsibility did he come, and with
how little earthly help. In Rome he had been
surrounded by those who sympathised with him,
and were engaged in the sacred pursuits he had
been devoted to ; counsel, consolation, and aid were
ever at hand. Now was he to stand alone, with a
half barbarous people around him, whom he had
to labour to convert, or to correct, scarcely knowing
how they would receive him, or how he should find
access to their minds.

On the part of his countrymen however the greatest
interest was felt in him. We know how strongly

304 ST. NINIAN

the inhabitants of remote districts are interested in
those who have left the seclusion in which they
live, to make their way in the world. There is
among such people a strong feeling of community,
which makes each one a relation as it were to all
the rest ; and if one goes out from his native village
to make his way in a larger sphere, deep interest
is felt in his success, and a desire to hear of him.
The old remember him as a child, and his father
and father's father. The young were the com-
panions of his boyish days. If he becomes distin-
guished and honoured, all seem to have a share in
it. And Ninian had been a youth whose goodness
and engaging manners would especially gain their
affections. He was a Briton, the son too of one
of their own princes, to whom it was natural they
should cling with peculiar attachment as associated
with the remembrance of what their tribes had been ;
for amid the improvements of Roman civilisation,
many ardent spirits would look back on the wild
glories of their uncivilised days, and cherish the
recollection of the renown and independence of their
race. We may imagine the interest with which they
would hear of the esteem in which their young
countryman was held, the position which he occupied
even in the chief city of the world ; and the joy
with which they would receive the news, that he
was to be restored to them as their Bishop. He was
the son of their king, but he had humbled himself
by relinquishing secular dignity, and now was exalted
by a far higher spiritual office. The children of this
world, the more they valued its gifts of wealth and
power, the more they would conceive that he had

ST. NINIAN'S RETURN TO BRITAIN 305

made a sacrifice ; and they who had the opportunity
of seeing any thing of the peace and joy he had in
Christ, would see that he had not been wrong in
making it. Here was a living instance of giving
up the world for Christ. What it was to be a
Prince they saw, and they would think much of
it. The Bishop might have had these goods of
wealth and honour, but he preferred to be a servant
of Christ, and of the people of Christ, to struggle
with poverty, to submit to hardships, to overcome
ill-will, unkindness, and obstinacy, by meek endur-
ance. The sacrifice they could appreciate ; and
when they heard him speak of leaving all to follow
Christ, and of taking up the cross, his words would
come home to them, for what he said was real ; it
had an interpretation in his own doings.

This will in a measure account for the great
success which attended the first opening of his
work amongst them. It is described as an outbreak
of enthusiasm, which ran through the people, and
enabled him at once to do the work of years.

If he preached at all as did the great models of
his day, we cannot wonder at it. They preached
as men who realised what is unseen, for the great
truths of eternity were the groundwork of all they
said ; and they came forth from deep and earnest
meditation on these truths, to speak of them to
others, with earnestness and affection, their own
minds being filled with the ideas and affections
which corresponded to them. As one who had really
seen some land of bliss, or 'awful suffering, or im-
pending danger, they spoke of them in a natural
and real way, and by their very sincerity, and the

VOL. v. U

306 ST. NINIAN

vivid impression of their own conviction of all they
said, they carried others along with them. They
could trust to the spontaneous flow of their minds,
for they had been schooled by severe lives and
serious thought, to deep awe and reverence, and
been trained in the full and exact knowledge of
Christian truth ; and as Bishops almost exclusively
were preachers, they had long time for thought,
experience, and sobriety, before they undertook so
high an office. They could speak freely, for they
spoke of what they really knew by personal experi-
ence, and long acquaintance with the ways of holy
living ; and this without erroneous and vague state-
ments, or the risk of irreverence, familiarity, or
excitement.

It was the age of Ambrose, Chrysostom, and
Augustine ; and Ninian came into Britain, as it
were, from their school, with all the fulness of view
and varied thoughts which an acquaintance with
Christians and Christian Theology, in its highest
form, would give. And this was expressed to the
Britons in their own language ; that language which,
unlike most of the other subjects of the empire, they
still retained and cherished, and which would be
more likely to be preserved and usually spoken in
remote and mountainous districts, as Cumbria and
Galloway. And we know how it gladdens the
hearts of the Celts of these days, in Wales and
Ireland, to hear their own language, and how they
think no harm can come in it ; and can imagine
what the Britons would feel at hearing it from St.
Ninian.

It may be they were of the same imaginative and

ST. NINIAN'S RETURN TO BRITAIN 307

susceptible temper which we find in those remains
of their race, for the effect of the Saint's preaching
was immediate and very great. " Crowds of people
collected together and came to meet him ; there was
unbounded delight among them all, and wonderful
devotion. Every where did the praises of Christ
resound, for they all held him as a prophet. At
once, the active labourer, entering his master's field,
began to pull up what was ill-planted ; what was ill
brought together, to disperse ; to pull down what was
built amiss." This was his first beginning. " After-
wards, having cleared the minds of the faithful from
all their errors, he began to lay in them the founda-
tion of the holy faith ; to build the gold of wisdom,
the silver of knowledge, and the stones of good
works. These all he taught by word, exhibited by
example, and confirmed by numerous miracles."

CHAPTER VII

ST. NINIAN IN GALLOWAY

THE province which was assigned to St. Ninian
seems to have been the western portion of our
northern counties, and the Scottish Lowlands, south
of the Wall of Antoninus. In the direction of the
heathen, it was, of course, unlimited ; the field was
open for him to convert all he could. In Scotland
there were, probably, very few Christians ; in the
English portion they were but partially converted
and very ignorant. What arrangement was made
between the new Bishop and the Bishop of York,
or of any unknown See, in whose diocese this country
was lying before, we cannot tell The British
Bishops might gladly receive amongst them a mis-
sionary Bishop, as they afterwards did St. Germanus,
to assist in eradicating evil and promoting the good
of their people ; or there may have been some
definite district assigned to him ; and of this it
may be that a trace remained in the limits of St.
Kentigern's diocese of Glasgow, which seems to
have taken the place of St. Ninian's, and extended
to the Cross on Stainmoor.

This district was occupied by different tribes of
Britons, having the same language and character,
except that those in England were more influenced

308

ST. NINIAN IN GALLOWAY 309

by Roman civilisation. Those to the north consisted
of five tribes, whose country had been formed into
a new province, by Theodosius, A.D. 367, under the
name of Valentia. They lay between the two walls,
and were in an intermediate state of civilisation,
between the inhabitants of the ancient provinces,
who had for centuries been under Roman influence,
and the wild unsubdued inhabitants of the High-
lands. Their country was but partially occupied
by the Romans, who used it chiefly for military
occupation and defence against the Caledonians ;
and though the inhabitants were Roman citizens,
those who lived in the more remote portions of the
district probably differed little from the barbarous
state in which Caesar had found our whole island.

It was among the English portion of his people
that St. Ninian first laboured. His history implies
that, as was natural, he first went among his own
people and the friends of his early years, to impart
to them the inestimable benefits he was commis-
sioned to diffuse ; and in accordance with this,
Leland distinctly speaks of his first mission as being
to the coast of Cumberland, between St. Bees Head
and Carlisle.

The circumstances of the country were not, how-
ever, such as were in any way suited for his long con-
tinuance or permanent establishment there. Cumber-
land lying just within the southern wall and being
filled by military establishments,1 was now the scene
of warlike preparation, and the fearful anticipations,

1 There were stations at Moresby, Ellenborough, Burgh by the
Sands, besides Carlisle and Penrith, and those at Stanwix, Bowness,
and along the line of the Wall.

3io ST. NINIAN

and miserable realities of a bloody and exterminating
warfare. It was a time of bitter distress to the
Provincial Britons ; and sad, indeed, was the sight
presented to St. Ninian. The peace and tranquillity
he had left in his native land was at an end. It
was just the time at which the wild hordes of Picts,
who had been restrained whilst the vigorous hand
of Theodosius held the reigns of empire, were again,
a year or two after his death, coming like a flood
over the fair fields and rich and civilised abodes of
the Provincials. In the following year, 398, it was
necessary to send two additional legions into Britain
to save the province from utter ruin ; and it was
now but thirteen years before it was finally aban-
doned by the Romans.

St. Gildas has depicted in strong colours the
savage invaders, and the wretchedness of the help-
less Provincials. It needs, however, no exaggeration
to represent the greatness of their sufferings. They
had long been shielded by the power of the empire.
Four legions evidence alike the danger from the
barbarians and the security of the inhabitants.
They had, from the first, been taught to forget their
warlike habits in the luxuries of ease, and to delight
in a slavery which presented itself in the form of
comfort and refinement. The works of long con-
tinued peace — the improvements of civilisation — the
beauty of their cities — their costly and elegant
houses, now fell before the destroyers, whose cupidity
they had excited. Hardy and warlike Picts poured
from the fastnesses of the Highlands ; poor, un-
civilised, unclothed, what the Britons themselves
had been 300 years before. Their ill-will was in-

ST. NINIAN IN GALLOWAY 311

creased by the very circumstance that their country-
men had identified themselves with the invaders,
whose yoke they had themselves with difficulty
avoided. Rapine, bloodshed, and cruelty followed
in their course, and the Provincials, unable to cope
with them, were driven from their peaceful homes,
and witnessed the destruction of their cherished
possessions, and the death of their dearest friends.
Such were the miseries which met St. Ninian on
returning to the home of his childhood, and led to
his retiring to a more peaceful district to establish
his Church. It is not improbable that he was
accompanied by some of his family, who might
seek a refuge on the retired shore of Galloway, from
the rapine and harassing inroads to which their
old homes were exposed. We find, at least, that
his brother was his companion in after years, and,
as one ancient Life reports, his mother and relations
were settled near him. His father may have died
before he saw, on earth, the face of his son, or
witnessed the blessings which he brought to his
countrymen. He was removed from the joy of
seeing the fruits of Ninian's preaching ; from the
distress of beholding the calamities of his country.
The plan which St. Ninian proposed to adopt for
carrying on the work of a missionary Bishop, re-
quired a place where he might erect a Church, where
he might himself permanently live, and form a
religious society. For this it was most important to
select a position which would be retired, and secure
alike from the interruptions of a rude soldiery or the
outrage of barbarian tribes. And the place which
he chose was singularly adapted for his purpose.

312 ST. NINIAN

The country between the walls was the very
ground on which the battles of the contending armies
would continually be fought ; like the suburbs of a
besieged town, which neither party spared, but made
the arena of their mutual combats. To the south-
west, however, the extensive promontory of Galloway
stretched beyond the scene of war, and being guarded
by the sea on either side, had on the whole remained
almost undisturbed by the changes which had gone
on around it. It was removed from the ordinary
course of the invading Highlanders, and had not
itself any objects to attract their rapacity. It had
scarcely been affected even by the Roman power.
Agricola, in the year 83, had contemplated an ex-
pedition to Ireland, and with this view, had overrun
the country ; roads had been made, and encamp-
ments formed, but, afterwards, as he seems not to
have had any object in pursuing the natives into
their fastnesses, its remote situation made it little
frequented by the Romans. It appears to have
continued without giving much occasion for military
establishments, for few Roman remains are found
in it.

What is now a bare and uninteresting district,
where the slow progress of plantations endeavours
to compensate for the want of natural wood, was
then covered by thick forests, and occupied by
Britons, living in all their uncivilised simplicity.
The tribe was called the Novantes ; and Ptolemy
mentions their two towns as Rerigonium and
Leucopibia. The latter was the one which St.
Ninian fixed on as the site for his Church. It was
conforming, so far as he could, to the ancient rule,

ST. NINIAN IN GALLOWAY 313

to fix the seat of a Bishop in a city, that the shep-
herd may be where his flock principally are found ;
and in this place the greatest number of Christians
would be gathered. Of its identity with Whithern
there can be no doubt, and the very probable and
generally received conjecture is, that the Leucopibia
of our present copies" of Ptolemy should be Leucoi-
kidia — Whitehouses ; so identifying its three names,
Leucoikidia, Candida Casa, and Whithern, which is
derived from the Saxon aern, house. Baxter suggests
that it is so called from the practice of the Celts (he
says Picts, but there were no Picts in Galloway till
long after this time) to whitewash their houses. It
seems most probable that the name was prior to
St. Ninian's arrival, and not derived, as commonly
said, from the Church he built ; for whatever be
made of the latter part of the word, Leuco speaks
for itself, and Casa like aern, seems rather to indicate
an ordinary dwelling than a Church. There had
been a castra stativa close adjoining the town which
is the only Roman position traceable in Galloway ;
and a road which Agricola had formed along the
coast, had been continued to Leucopibia. But in
their present pressing circumstances, the encamp-
ment doubtless would be abandoned. The town
itself lies but two or three miles from the extremity
of the promontory, which branches off from the
main one of Galloway, and running far into the
sea, forms almost the most southern point of Scot-
land. It is thus without access by land except on
the north ; and being naturally difficult of access,
and out of the direct line towards Ireland, is now
one of the most retired places in Scotland. Few had

314 ST. NINIAN

any inducement to visit it from the north ; and its
southern and western sides are guarded by lofty and
precipitous rocks, and only here and there afford
access for vessels.

Here, then, St. Ninian might securely fix his See,
removed from the troubles and dangers which
occupied the rest of Britain ; and hence go forth to
traverse the wild woodlands for the purpose of
evangelising the people. At the same time, the
town was probably, as we may judge from the
encampment and the road, one of the most impor-
tant which the natives had ; while the promontory,
called Burrow Head, which rises near it, is seen
from and commands a view of the extensive diocese
in which his lot was cast.

One looks with interest at the position of the
Minsters of York or Lincoln, which are conspicuous
through the whole surrounding districts — ever present
remembrances of Divine Truth, and marks of him
who sits there the spiritual father of the flock. Such
was the position of St. Ninian's See. As you stand
on the fine headland, with sea on every side, you
almost look down on the mountains of the Isle of
Man, which rise out of the sea, before you. To the
right stretch the successive promontories of Galloway
almost to Port Patrick ; the Hills of Wigtonshire,
Kirkcudbrightshire, and Dumfriesshire, rise in suc-
cessive and lofty ridges, from the shores of the
Solway, to the north ; while, due east, you may
trace the coast of Cumberland, to St. Bees Head,
or even to Blackcomb, backed by its fair blue hills,
so picturesque in outline ; and as the light and
shade alternate on the view, you may make out

ST. NINIAN IN GALLOWAY 315

each bay and headland, and even the white houses
by the shore. Surely this was a place where the
Saint might stand and survey the field in which he
had to work. He had given evidence enough that
he was no idle dreamer or slave of weak affection.
Still we may well suppose that when he looked
down from this central point, and had before him
headlands and mountain tops which marked out
the wide district committed to him, he would re-
gard with especial tenderness, the distinctly marked
shore where he had been baptised and spent his
youthful years ; — those hills which he had looked
up to from his home. They would recall the re-
membrance of those who were gone, and awake
more fervent prayers for his country, now in the
scene of distraction and warfare.

We have said that the manners of the people had
been but little affected by the influence of the
Romans. It is probable that their way of life was
very much what that of the Britons had been before
they were refined by Roman colonisation, or as
those of their neighbours the Mceatae, who at the
beginning of the third century inhabited barren
mountains and marshy plains, had no manured or
cultivated lands, but fed on the milk and flesh of
their flocks, or what they got by hunting, or some
wild fruits ; fish they never ate, though they had
great plenty of them, and when in the woods they
fed on roots and herbs.

There still remain in Galloway, circles, and Crom-
lechs, and Cistvaens, traces of what St. Ninian might
see lingering as a broken, but still living system.
The Druid religion was proscribed by the Romans.

ST. NINIAN

It was a strong, too strong a bond to be allowed to
remain among the Britons ; but the superstition
was still deeply rooted in the minds of the people,
and a reverence long after hung around the en-
closures which had been consecrated by Druid
rites. At present, therefore, they must have been
in a wretched religious condition ; the public exer-
cise and ministers of their own religion, were pro-
scribed, and the truth had made little progress
amongst them. There were indeed Christians, but
in an ignorant and ill-informed state ; and to revive
religion amongst these persons, and to correct their
errors, was one great part of his work.

St. Ninian's plan was not merely to disperse Clergy
in separate districts through the country, but to con-
centrate his strength in one point, and there to have
a Church in some degree worthy of the design for
which it was intended. The Churches of the
Britons were generally of wood. In the cities no
doubt, when the Romans had introduced their arts,
and wealth abounded, the Churches, like the other
public buildings, would be of stone ; but in remote
and poorer places where wood was plentiful, it was
more natural to make them of that material. It
was ready to their hands ; stone they did not
need, and could not afford, and might not have
the art of working ; as St. Ninian had contemplated
in taking his masons from Tours. Bede speaks of
the Church as built of stone in a way unusual
among the Britons. His words probably apply to
the form as well as the material of the building,
as he afterwards contrasts the Churches of the
Picts with the Roman fashion. These Pictish

ST. NINIAN IN GALLOWAY 317

Churches, and those of the Britons of Bede's days,
and of the Irish, were of wood ; such they now are
in Norway, where neither skill nor labour are spared
in the beauty of the workmanship with which they
are adorned.

St. Ninian however desired to use materials for his
Church, which, by their strength and permanence,
might image forth the perpetuity of that Kingdom
to which it belonged ; and in which the services
might be performed with becoming dignity. He
had Rome in his mind ; and as he had there
doubtless planned what he would raise on the
wooded shores of Britain, he might often now in
thought return to the majesty and splendour of
the Ritual and Churches of the Apostolic See ; so
that whatever simplicity and poverty there might
of necessity be elsewhere, the Cathedral at least
would afford a model of what was aimed at, and
which might be copied in their measure by the
other Churches. Such doubtless was the practice,
that the Mother Church of the diocese should be
the place in which the due order of Divine Service
might be kept as a guide to the rest

Natural piety would move St. Ninian to this work,
as indeed it had all along been near his heart. But
it must also have been very important in its effects
on the people, as a perpetual witness to the truths
he taught. That we should give of our best to God,
and that what is spent on places specially dedicated
to His service is in some more immediate way given
to Him, is a natural sentiment. This sentiment is
implanted in the human heart, in common with those
others which seem to have produced every where,

3i8 ST. NINIAN

among people who had any sense of religion, an
external form and expression of it. Places appro-
priated for sacred services, where God was believed
to be especially present ; an order of men set apart
to serve Him, offerings of our best and costliest
possessions, and grace and beauty in the ornaments
of His House, and the conduct of its services, —
these are the spontaneous dictates of the heart, and
carry with them the evidence of their being a part
of natural religion, as well as what we commonly
call such. Surely it is with this view that we should
look on the fair forms of ancient art, their temples,
their graceful processions, their choric poetry, as the
offering of natural piety to the Supreme Being.
Corrupted and polluted it is true they were, but so
were the fundamental doctrines of essential religion ;
and as we are used there to sever the over-laying
errors from the elementary truths, and think it no
prejudice to the Divine original of the true portions,
that corruption should have attached to them, so let
us regard the ceremonies of the heathen, and the
taste and wealth they lavished on them, as the
yearnings of the human soul after Him, to Whom
it desires to do all homage.

And the consideration was very important in
reference to the conversion of the heathen, as well
as to the maintenance of religion among Christians ;
for instead of falling in with their true and right
notions as to what a religious system ought to be,
we may by a neglect of external Religion directly
clash with what they conceive we ought to do, which
they will the more deeply believe, the more they are
prepared by natural piety for embracing the Gospel.

ST. NINI'AN IN GALLOWAY 319

Instead of Churches, by their very forms and orna-
ments, and services, being silent and ever present
preachers of the truth, embodying practical devotion,
as being its fruits, they may give the lie to our
professions, and hinder the reception of religion.
We have power, we have generally wealth. Ninian
had not much of either, yet he made no delay, but
made it his first work to build the house of God on
a scale which excited the admiration of the people,
and suited the high purposes for which it was set apart.
It was during the time the Church was building,
that is, in November 397, that St. Ninian was divinely
warned of the death of St. Martin, and so deep was
the veneration he entertained for that holy man, that
he dedicated the Church under his name; a name
it afterwards retained ; though, when the Saint by
whom it was built, and whose remains were laid
there, became more known, it was commonly called
St. Ninian's, and is spoken of as dedicated to him.

In Rome they built the Churches over the tombs
of the Martyrs, and so dedicated them to their
memory, and in other places it was usual to deposit
some of the remains of a martyr under the altar of
the Church, which was to be consecrated, a practice
observed by the great Saints of the age. At
Whithern however there was no martyr, and St.
Ninian had not brought any relics, so it seemed as
it were providential that St. Martin, one of the
greatest Saints of the age, though not a martyr,
should yet be honoured thus, and he to whom
St. Ninian owed so much be regarded as the patron
of his Church, and the model to be perpetually kept
in view by his people.

320 ST. NINIAN

I pass by the story which the present tradition of
the country reports, that St. Ninian first settled in
the Isle of Whithern, three or four miles from the
present Church and town, and afterwards removed
to that which was his ultimate position. It seems
incompatible with the history, which speaks but of
one place, and that the one where he at first engaged
in building his Church ; for it was in progress at the
time St. Martin died, that is within a year after his
arrival in Britain. There is an old dismantled
Chapel, as it were a landmark, on the top of one
of the hills in the Isle, which the people connect
with St. Ninian, and consider the oldest Church in
the kingdom, as if it were his Church. It is however
much more recent than even the ruined Church of
Whithern ; it is a plain oblong Chapel, with very thick
walls, and one narrow pointed window in each of
the sides, with niches, and the other recesses usual
about the east end : a lone deserted place without
roof, which from its thick walls and simple form,
suggests the notion of great antiquity ; but certainly
is not connected with St. Ninian.

At Whithern then he gave a visibility and local
habitation to the Church. The service of God would
here be daily celebrated with the simple dignity
which befits the image of heavenly things, and the
unseen presence of Saints and Angels. The rites
which the Roman Church had derived from her
founders, or introduced in after times, as the spon-
taneous expression of the spiritual mind, the language,
if we may say it, the very bearing, and graceful
movements of the Spouse of Christ, would there be
embodied, and form after the like model the minds

ST. NINIAN IN GALLOWAY 321

of those who came to worship, or abode continually
in her courts. With the building there was a society
of religious persons formed, living with their Bishop,
consisting of Clergy to maintain the unceasing
services of the Church, to prepare for the higher
offices, or to teach the people, and of laymen, who
sought here to lead a devout life under the shadow,
and within the very walls of the sanctuary.

That St. Ninian should form such a society was
antecedently probable. The monastic life had been
introduced and sanctioned in the western Church
by the most revered men ; and the association of
Bishops with their Clergy or other religious people,
had been recently adopted by those whose judgment
St. Ninian would be most guided by. St. Siricius,
it has been said, preferred to choose Clergy from
monks ; what then was more natural than that the
Bishop should himself form, and rule such a society ?
He had himself too probably lived in one at Rome,
and would love its religious calm for the sake of his
own improvement.

For the account of this indeed and the remaining
events of St. Ninian's life, and the institutions and
system which he adopted, we are chiefly indebted to
the accounts of his miracles, which form the rest of
St. Aelred's life. But this, for obvious reasons, will
not appear a valid reason for questioning their truth,
considered as common facts. A long time, certainly,
had elapsed between St. Ninian and St. Aelred ; and
though we must put at a much higher date the
composition of the life, from which St. Aelred derived
his history, still some considerable time may have
intervened, during which we must trust to the tra-

VOL. V. X

322 ST. NINIAN

ditions of his Church. It may then be said we have
little evidence for these facts ; we have, however, all
which the circumstances of the case admitted. And
we have this in particular, that they were believed
by men who had much more means of judging than
we possess. They were believed, I mean on the
whole, for it is very possible that Alcuin, St. Aelred,
and the Scottish Church generally, received them as
they were handed down, not attempting to distin-
guish— to receive part or to reject part, where they
had little or no grounds for making such distinction.
To us, however, they convey much real information
as to the way of life of the Saint. I do not mean
by mentioning circumstances which might have been
inserted by the narrator ; but by the facts which
form the very groundwork of the story, so that if
the miracle was believed, which it must have been
in very early times, it must have been the case that
these facts were also generally believed. And a
general and early belief in common facts would be
admitted as evidence by many who would hesitate
to receive it for uncommon ones, particularly if these
common facts were what might otherwise be ex-
pected. Nay, we may go further ; they who con-
sider that St. Ninian was a friend of St. Martin's,
engaged in the work of converting a barbarous
people, and who are familiar with the authentic his-
tory of the saints of that age, will look on miracles
as things to be expected, as what under the circum-
stances were natural ; and so they will, in the same
way, give an assent to the miraculous narration, as
what may very possibly, at least, be true ; though
from the nature of the evidence they would not

ST. NINIAN IN GALLOWAY 323

positively affirm it in each particular case ; and in
the same spirit they may praise God for His glories
thus manifested, as they may for those of His
natural works, though they are in doubt or error
as to the physical facts. Hymns are not the less
religious because they are philosophically untrue ;
nor is the piety unacceptable which saw traces of
the deluge in the shells upon the mountain top,
though recent investigations have taught us to doubt
of their connection.

To return, then, to our history ; it appears that
one of St. Ninian's earliest works was the formation
of a religious community, where he and his Clergy
might live together, having all things in common.
It is, of course, most probable, that he adopted the
plan from those of St. Eusebius of Vercelli, St.
Augustine, and especially St. Martin, and that his
society, as theirs did, would consist of laymen as
well as clergy.

The evident advantages of such an institution led
to its general adoption in the missions of the follow-
ing age. It was a home where sympathy, support,
and counsel, might be had from men like minded,
and engaged in labouring for the same great ends.
Hither men were gathered, who desired to serve
God more entirely than they could do in the world,
to lead a heavenly life, in contemplation, prayer,
and praise. It became a very school of sanctity,
where men earnestly desiring virtue associated round
one of known sanctity, to be guided by him in their
way to heaven, to copy the traits of holiness in him
and in their brethren. Thus was a body formed
which gave light to others, so that men were drawn

LIBRARY SI MARY'S

324 ST. NINIAN

out of the contaminating and lowering influence of
the world, and brought together under a strict rule
and with a professed aim after holiness.

And this must have been of singular importance
at a time when Christianity was now becoming the
religion of the many, and whole nations were being
converted. It presented a difficult problem to the
heathen philosopher, how the mass of society could
be renewed, when the few in whom the principle of
goodness was implanted were scattered, unseen, and
lost among the numbers who surrounded them, and
by whose way of life, as they possessed no higher
visible standard, they were lowered and corrupted.
The Gospel undertakes to effect it by gathering out
these scattered instances of goodness, and uniting
them in one visible society, by the tie of a professed
standard of practice ; to be a city set on a hill, a
light put upon a candlestick ; providing, moreover,
for training up, and forming the characters of others,
by instruction in the truth, and a life regulated by
holy discipline. Such was the Church itself, in its
first ages, when the few Christians were closely
bound together, and broadly distinguished from the
unbelievers who surrounded them. At the time,
however, when this was no longer possible, when
the world came into the Church, and all were mem-
bers of that society, it pleased God gradually to
introduce into the Church itself minor combinations
of its holiest members, who, without the danger of
individual profession, and bound by obligations which
humbled them in the thought of their shortcomings,
might continue as memorials of what had existed
in a former age, and schools and models of practical

ST. NINIAN IN GALLOWAY 325

religion. We have schools for all other arts, for all
those acquirements which need rules and practice,
and, above all, imitation, seeing how others do what
we wish to learn. In secular matters we recognise
the advantage of an experienced teacher and cor-
rector, of being united with others engaged in the
same pursuits, and of the improvement derived from
observing how they attain to excellence, or how they
fail in the minute details of their daily work ; surely
it is only reasonable to have some similar institu-
tions for learning the most important and the most
difficult of all acquirements, that of a holy life, and
the practice of the varied graces of the Christian
character. How many a practical difficulty might
thus be solved ! How many a soul which had en-
tangled its course, and rendered its perceptions of
duty obscure and uncertain, might here be relieved !
The chief part of Christians have duties in the
world, and they have, amongst the Saints, patterns
and guides for leading a devout life in the dis-
charge of those duties ; but some are ever called
to a life where they may serve God more directly,
and these are especial means of keeping up the
general tone of religion, and supply helps and en-
couragements, as well as a true standard, for those
who are in the world.

Such may the Saints of Whithern have been, pre-
senting by their purity, meekness, heavenly minded-
ness, and peace, a specimen of what the fruit of
Gospel righteousness is ; a contrast to the pride,
and worldliness, and violence, which reigned among
the heathen ; and a special means of attracting to
the Church, all in whom the elements of purity and

326 ST. NINIAN

goodness had life and activity. Devotion was the
end of their association and their rules — to imitate
on] earth an angelic life ; to this all was subordinate ;
for this they rose betimes, they fasted, they watched,
they kept a constant guard on their senses and their
thoughts. Thus to please God they cultivated all
Christian graces, humility, obedience, and love ; they
were silent to converse with God, turning their eyes
from the objects of earth, that the mind might see
those of heaven, and seeking in this life to be
cheerful, resigned, and happy. The system of the
monks would necessarily have its modifications when
adopted by clergy, whose office called them to be
accessible to their people, to go out on journeys and
to preach and to administer the Sacraments to a
scattered people. But even then they carried with
them in silence, recollection, and prayer, and the
devout saying of their Psalter, the spirit and the
practices of their holy home, and by their gentleness
and humility would win over the poor and simple
people among whom they laboured.

They probably supported themselves by their own
labour, and such voluntary offerings as might be
made to the Church. The former belonged to their
life as monks, the latter as clergy. Their chief food
was vegetables ; leeks are especially mentioned ;
these were the produce of a garden of their own,
which was under the care of one of the brethren,
whose business it was thence to provide the supply
necessary for their daily repasts. It was a simple
life deriving support from the grateful earth; a
condition which maintained in them a continual
dependence on Him who feeds the young ravens,

ST. NINIAN IN GALLOWAY 327

and enabled them to sympathise with the poor;
as being themselves without provision from day to
day, and having really made themselves poor for
the sake of Christ. Nor should it surprise us that
at times they were almost in want of the necessaries
of life; since, for some time, St. Ninian had to
struggle against much opposition, and his labours
seemed to produce scarcely any fruit.

It was in such a time of need that the traditions
of Galloway represent the Saint as receiving a supply
of food by miracle. And before we allow ourselves
to judge lightly of the simple tale, let us recall the
numerous instances in Holy Writ in which miracles
were wrought for supplying bodily wants ; perhaps
there is no class of which the cases are so many.
The Bishop and his brethren went one day into
the Refectory, but their usual meal of leeks and
other herbs did not appear. The brother who should
have provided them was called. He had only the
disappointing tale to tell, that they had no provisions
left, all the leeks had been put into the ground for
seed, and none remained for them to eat. Perhaps
it had been a bad season and their garden crops
had failed. The Saint bade him go to the garden
and bring what he found. He was astonished at
the command, knowing there was nothing there, but
habitual obedience and the thought that the Bishop
could not command any thing without good reason
prevailed. He went, and behold, the process of nature
was anticipated, and the herbs were found not grown
up only but in seed. There is a very useful lesson at
least taught here, to obey though it seems useless ;
difficulties vanish from the path of the determined.

328 ST. NINIAN

And by this simple way of life, and the exercise
of useful arts, as the Egyptian monks made mats
or baskets, and the cultivation of their garden, and
afterwards by keeping flocks and herds, they would
suggest many a useful lesson to the uncivilised people
around them, and introduce among them improve-
ments which were otherwise unknown. This has ever
been a part of the work of missionaries in barbarous
nations, tending to the real improvement of the people,
winning a way to their good-will, and teaching them
to look up, in things spiritual, to those who were so
willing and able to help them in earthly concerns.

But there was one other object to which St. Ninian
made his monastery especially subservient. His own
religious history, the wants he had felt, and the
privileges he had enjoyed, and the very design for
which he had returned to Britain, would lead him
to regard sound theological training as of the utmost
importance for his clergy. He had himself sought
in vain for those who could teach him the truth ;
he had seen the evils which resulted from the want
of a steady holding to the right faith, in the un-
settledness and spiritual deadness which prevailed.
He had come to remedy those evils. Where could
it be better effected than in his college ? This was
healing the fountain, it was providing that those
who, each in his own sphere, was to teach others,
should himself be in doctrine as well as life a model
for them to imitate. The advantages he had enjoyed
at Rome he came to impart to Britain ; and the
monastery at Whithern was the place where the
system of theological teaching he has known there
would be adopted for his own clergy.

ST. NINIAN IN GALLOWAY 329

He would himself first, as they were able to bear
it, lead them into a full and exact knowledge of
the truths of religion, by such a course of oral and
catechetical instruction, as would transfuse into their
minds the great ideas with which his own was im-
pressed. He would accustom them by rule and
instance to an accurate literal exposition of Scripture,
and still more to that wonderful system of mystical
interpretation, which the spiritual mind spontane-
ously suggests, and, when duly instructed in it,
carries through the whole of Scripture. And in
both he would aid them by the study of the works
of the earlier fathers, and of the living lights of the
Church, the great masters of dogmatical and inter-
pretative Theology, St. Augustine and St. Jerome.
Nay, it will appear that he perpetuated his teaching
by composing works, probably for their benefit. In
consequence Whithern became a school from which
the teachers of the northern Church were sent out.

Another very important part of his institution was
a school for the young, rising up, as in some of our
Sees, under the shadow of the Cathedral, as in olden
times it formed an essential part of the Capitular
establishment. It was most important to rescue, as
far as might be, the children of heathen or evil-
minded parents from the contaminating influence of
their homes, and both with them and others to keep
the young mind from losing the innocency of its
regeneration, and to train it in habits of virtue, and
the knowledge of the truth. It was indeed sowing
seeds, which might for a long time seem buried, but
would at last grow up to noble trees. And from
among the brethren, as in after times, there would

330 ST. NINIAN

be found those who teach the little ones, and them-
selves be both refreshed and improved by it. Re-
freshed by the sweetness and simplicity of their
innocent minds, naturally thinking no evil, without
anxiety, ambition, or guile ; which is to the harassed
mind what a garden of flowers is to the weary, where
they may repose amid fair objects, and where all
is peace. Improved, because their own ideas would
be cleared, and made more real by having to impart
their knowledge to the unsophisticated minds of
children. Nor was the Bishop without his own share
in the work. He taught the children himself, not
unmindful of the precept to feed the lambs, just as
Gerson, the great Chancellor of Paris, is said through
life to have maintained the practice of weekly cate-
chising little children. It was a mark of the sweet-
ness of St. Ninian's character that he was loved and
reverenced by his little ones ; and this circumstance
was so prominent among his works that the char-
acteristic which one historian gives him is, that he
was a distinguished trainer of children.

Connected with this, there was a story for which
people could, in St. Aelred's time, point to what
were held to be living evidences, which brings out
the Bishop as the father of these little ones. But
it is best to adopt or paraphrase the words of St.
Aelred. " Many, both of the more noble and the
middle rank, placed their children under the care of
the Saint, to be taught the knowledge of religion.
These he instructed with learning, and formed to
habits of virtue, restraining by wholesome discipline
the faults to which their age is liable, and implant-
ing virtues by which they might live in sobriety,

ST. NINIAN IN GALLOWAY 331

justice, and piety." It happened on a time that
one of the boys offended, and preparations were
made to punish him. The boy, in alarm, ran away ;
but knowing the power and goodness of the Saint,
and thinking he should find a solace in his flight
if he did but take with him anything belonging to
the good Bishop, he took off the staff on which
St. Ninian used to support himself. In his eagerness
to escape he looked out for a boat which might carry
him away. The boats of the country St. Aelred
then describes. They were of wicker work, large
enough to hold three men ; over this wicker work
a hide was stretched, and the boat would float and
be impervious to the waves. They are the same
boats which Pliny and Caesar describe, and in
which the Britons would cross the sea to France or
Ireland, or even go voyages of many days. They
are called currachs or coracles ; they were long in
use in the Western Isles, and still are among the
fishermen on the Wye.

There happened just then to be many large ones
making ready on the shore. The wicker work was
finished, but the hides not put on. He very in-
cautiously got in, and the light boat at first kept
on the top of the waves, the water not at once
making its way through ; soon however it did so,
and there seemed no prospect but that it must fill
and go down. He knew not whether to run the
risk of leaping out or staying and sinking. In the
moment of his distress; however, he thought of the
holiness and power of St. Ninian ; contrite for his
fault, as though weeping at his feet, he confesses
his guilt, entreats pardon, and by the most holy

332 ST. NINIAN

merit of the Saint begs the aid of Heaven. Trust-
ing, with childlike simplicity, that the staff was not
without its virtue, as belonging to the Saint, he
fixed it in one of the openings. The water retreated,
and, as if in fear, presumed not to pour in. "These,"
says the saintly Aelred, "these are the works of
Christ, Who did say to His disciples, he that
believeth in Me the works that I do, shall he
do also, and greater things than these shall he
do."

A gentle wind arose and forced on the little boat,
the staff supplied the place of sail, and rudder, and
anchor to stay his course. The people crowding on
the shore saw the little ship, like some bird swimming
along the waves, without either oar or sail. The
boy comes to shore, and to spread more widely the
fame of the holy Bishop, he in strong faith, fixed
'the staff in the ground, and prayed that as a testi-
mony to the miracle, it might take root, send forth
branches, flowers, and fruit. Presently the dry wood
shot out roots, was clothed with fresh bark, produced
leaves and branches, and grew into a considerable
tree. Nay, to add miracle to miracle, at the root
of a tree a spring of the clearest water burst forth,
and poured out a glassy stream, which wound its
way with gentle murmurs, grateful to the eye, and,
from the merits of the Saint, useful and health-giving
to the sick.

With what interest would this tale be told to the
pilgrim strangers, and the tree and fountain shown
as the evidences of its truth in those days of simple
faith! And with hearts lifted up to God, and
trusting in the aid of St. Ninian's prayers, many

ST. NINIAN IN GALLOWAY 333

a poor sick man would drink of the clear
stream.

Men of this day may smile at their simplicity ;
but better surely is the mind which receives as no
incredible thing, the unusual interposition of Him
who worketh all things according to the counsel of
His own will ; better the spirit which views the
properties of a salubrious spring as the gift of God,
granted to a faithful and holy servant, than that
which would habitually exclude the thought of the
Great Doer of all, by resting on the Laws of Nature
as something independent of Him, not, as they are,
the way in which He usually works ; or thanklessly,
and as a matter of course, receive the benefit of
some mineral waters.

However, we were speaking of St. Ninian's school,
and we have seen the aged Bishop, for the event is
related near the close of his life, leaning on his staff,
and ordering the boys to be punished ; and we see
too what kind of scholars he had, and how deep
was their veneration for him, even when they were
doing wrong ; how simple their faith in the presence
and power of the Almighty.

Another narrative brings more before us the per-
sonal habits and religious life of St. Ninian, and
this we should much wish to know. We have
followed him through his holy childhood, and his
pure and humble youth, have seen in opening man-
hood his deep and reverend love of Divine knowledge
— his relinquishing the world — his progress in piety
and perception of the Truth. And one characteristic
which had been formed and strengthened by his
obedient love of Him, who is unseen, was now

334 ST. NINIAN

brought out, the fixedness of his thoughts amid
the distractions of the world, and his attention to
Divine things. This indeed is the state in which
reason shows us we ought to be ; for it is to have
our thoughts dwelling on what is true, permanent,
and most concerning, instead of what is transient
and unreal. And to him its effects were most
blessed, enabling him to sustain a calm and tranquil
mind amid the hurry and trials of his toilsome
work ; leading an angel's life, diligent and laborious,
and doing all things perfectly, as the angels un-
ceasingly minister for us ; but without excitement
and hurry, even as they, by retaining the contem-
plation of the Divine glory, and a simple union with
the Divine will, are undisturbed. It had doubtless
ever been his practice from the time that as a child
he turned his thoughts and loving affections towards
his Heavenly Father, and afterwards dwelt in pious
meditation on the truths he laboured so earnestly
to learn. And he sustained it by keeping a constant
guard against wandering, dissipated thoughts ; by
occupying his mind in holy things, that the house
which had been swept and garnished, might yet
never be found empty ; by not seeking to know
anything which did not concern him. He was
assisted by a practice which we often read of in the
lives of Saints, that of reading or saying the Psalms,
or earnest meditation, at times when circumstances
would most tend to dissipate the thoughts ; which
probably every one feels to be the case in those
seemingly unoccupied times, when one has to walk
or travel alone. Then it is for most people, perhaps,
impossible to keep the thoughts fixed without some

ST. NINIAN IN GALLOWAY 335

external help, the very moving and changes that
occur distract and unsettle them. To guard against
this and another evil, that of idle and vain conver-
sation, St. Ninian, on his journeys, always carried
his Psalter and some book for religious reading ;
and, besides saying the Psalms, when he stopped
to rest, or to refresh his horse (for he used to ride
on his long travels through the rough woods and
hills of his diocese), he would take out his book
and read with careful attention.

And to secure himself from any unnecessary
occasions of distraction, he seems to have observed
the rules which our good Bishop Wilson gave
himself, and so has most forcibly given us. " Never
be curious to know what is passing in the world,
any further than duty obliges you ; it will only
distract the mind when it should be better em-
ployed." " The best way to prevent wandering in
prayer is not to let the mind wander too much at
other times, but to have God always in our minds
in the whole course of our lives."

We may here quote the beautiful language of St.
Aelred. It was intended as a lesson for lay people,
living at home, as well as for professedly religious
men. It was to be read in the long winter evenings
in the hall, as well as in the refectory. It has been
read in many a house and many a monastery, in
the olden times of merry England ; it may have
awakened then a sense of the importance of guarded
thoughts, and the danger of curiosity. It may do
so for some one now.

" When I think," says the good Abbot, " of the
very religious habits of this most holy man, I am

336 ST. NINIAN

filled with shame at the slothfulness of this our
miserable generation. Which of us, I ask, even at
home among the members of his own family, does
not in social intercourse and conversation, introduce
more frequently jocose than serious subjects, idle
rather than useful, carnal than spiritual ones. Those
lips which Divine grace has consecrated to praise
the Lord, or to celebrate the holy mysteries, are
daily polluted by detraction and worldly talk, and
whilst they feel a distaste for the Psalms, the
Gospels, and the Prophets, they run the live-long
day through the vain and shameful works of men.
And when they travel, is not the mind like the
body, in continual wandering, the tongue in idleness
to any good ? Reports of the characters of ungodly
men are continually brought forward ; the gravity
suited to a religious man is destroyed by laughing
and stories ; the affairs of Kings, the duties of
Bishops, the ministrations of the Clergy, the con-
tentions of the powerful, above all, the life and
character of every one is the subject of discussion.
We judge every thing except our own judgment ;
and what is more to be grieved at, we bite and
devour one another, so that we are consumed one
of another. Not so the blessed Ninian ; crowds
hindered not his tranquillity, nor did travelling inter-
fere with his meditations, nor his devotions become
lukewarm through lassitude. Wherever he was
journeying he raised his mind to heavenly objects
in prayer or contemplation, and when he turned
aside on his journey, to rest himself or his horse,
he delighted to take out a little book, which he
always carried for the purpose, and read, or said

ST. NINIAN IN GALLOWAY 337

Psalms, for he felt what the Prophet David says,
1 How sweet are Thy words unto my throat, yea,
sweeter than honey unto my mouth.'"

Nay, it was said, so highly favoured was his
practice, that by special grace the very rain was
turned aside from falling on him, forming as it
were a vault above and around him. And once
it happened, to give the substance of St. Aelred's
narrative, that he and his brother, called Plebeia,
a man of equal holiness, were on a journey, and
as was their wont, solaced themselves with the
Songs of David. When they had travelled some
distance they turned from the public road to rest
themselves awhile, opened their Psalters, and were
refreshing their souls with religious reading. Pre-
sently, the bright clear sky was clouded over, and
the rain fell heavily ; the thin air, however, like an
arched vault, formed over the servants of God, and
continued as an impenetrable wall against the falling
waters. Whilst, however, they were saying their
Psalms, St. Ninian turned his eyes from the book,
an unlawful thought, nay, an unrestrained desire,
affected his mind. The supernatural protection was
withdrawn, and the rain fell on him. No useless
lesson this — that the unseen guardianship which is
over us in prayer, which screens us from evil, that the
grace which is then around us, is for the time with-
drawn, if wilful distractions are admitted. His brother
observed the change, and understood the cause ; he
gently reminded him of his fault, and the Saint, com-
ing to himself, blushed at having been carried away
by foolish thoughts, and in the same instant he
threw off the imagination, and the rain was stayed.

VOL. v. Y

338 ST. NINIAN

It is to be hoped the reader will rather seize the
lesson this ancient tale affords, than smile at its
simplicity. Who can say how many a wandering
thought has been checked by thinking of it, when
the brethren of Whithern, day by day, and year
after year, said their Psalter in St. Ninian's Church
— checked by recalling the lesson which it teaches ;
of evil kept off from the soul by earnest attention,
and falling unrestrained upon it when we wilfully
wander.

The next miracles are connected with the trials
of St. Ninian. His portion, as that of all the
saints, was to follow in his Master's steps, to labour
for the unthankful, to win souls by suffering, to
endure reproach, to bless those that cursed him.
There are intimations incidentally occurring in the
latter part of his life, which show that he was often
in danger from powerful men, and exposed even
to the loss of life.

The chief opposer of his labours was a king of
those parts, called Tuduval ; the prince, perhaps, of
the whole tribe of the Novantes. He was, for a
Galwegian chieftain, wealthy, powerful, and in-
fluential, but withal proud, grasping, and the slave
of passion and unbridled license and ambition.
It may easily be conceived that he felt the opposi-
tion which existed between his own spirit and
St. Ninian's, and instinctively resisted him. He
felt that he belonged to a kingdom which must
fall before that of which the Bishop was a minister,
and strove the more earnestly because his time was
short. The admonitions of the holy preacher were
disregarded, his lessons of righteousness, temper-

ST. NINIAN IN GALLOWAY 339

ance, and judgment were derided ; his teaching,
nay his holy life, were assailed and detracted
from ; all the influence the prince possessed was
exercised to withstand him, and his doctrine was
met with open and direct opposition. For a time
the enemy summoned so much strength, and exer-
cised so wide and baneful an influence, that it
seems as if the conversion of the people was
becoming hopeless. It was as a land on which
the gentle dew and rain from heaven fell in vain ;
it brought forth no fruit, but only thorns and
thistles, and seemed nigh to be given up as
accursed and reprobate.

But the prayers and patient sufferings of the
Holy Brotherhood at Whithern, went up for a
memorial ; they wielded the weapons of the Saints,
meekness, righteousness, and truth ; and their inter-
cessions for their persecutors and defamers prevailed.
When their cause seemed hopeless, the Divine arm
was lifted up to help them. He who took the
lead in resisting them, the resolute persecutor and
opposer of the truth, felt a hand laid on him to
stay his course. Tuduval was seized by a violent
illness, which ended in the loss of sight. Laid on
a bed of suffering, and precluded from the sight of
the outward world, reflection brought him to him-
self. His conscience recalled the marked events
of his soul's history, and his opposition to St.
Ninian would be the most prominent. The pos-
sibility of all proving true which he had often
scoffed at ; the consciousness of his wrong-doings,
even according to his own ideas of wrong ; the
undefined dread of future retribution, all would

340 ST. NINIAN

combine to awaken consideration. Then the purity
of the Christians' lives — their present peace — their
future hopes — would suggest the thought how much
better it were to be as one of them ; nay, that there
'was something in them more than human ; the
miracles scoffed at before would recur to his memory,
and the truth of the Saint's claims take possession
of his mind. So it was ; a light spread through
the soul, whilst the outward organs were in dark-
ness. Repentance and confession of his wrong-
doings followed, and without delay he called for
his friends, took their advice, and sent them with
expressions of contrition and humiliation to St.
Ninian. He besought him not to treat him as he
knew he deserved, but to imitate the mercifulness
of his Lord, to return good for evil, love for
hatred.

We may imagine the deep joy which the holy
Bishop felt at the return of one who seemed lost
for ever. In his mind there was no place for
glorying over a fallen enemy, no notion of personal
triumph, no revengeful delay of reconciliation, but
a going out to meet him whom he saw afar off.
He offered up first a prayer to God, a prayer of
thankfulness for this work of His grace, a prayer
that his enemy might be freed from his sufferings,
and at once set out with the utmost humility and
devotion. At first he gently reproved him for his
sin, then with healing hand touched his head, and
impressed upon his eyes the sign of our salvation.
At once the pain was gone and the blindness
departed. Tuduval became a sincere convert,
humility and purity took the place of his former

ST. NINIAN IN GALLOWAY 341

vices, and he devoted himself to St. Ninian's
guidance, treating him with the deepest reverence,
as recognising that God was indeed with him and
guided him in all his ways. The effect of this
miracle of Divine grace in the conversion, even
more than in the cure of the strenuous persecutor
must have been very great. The power and in-
fluence which had been used to oppose, would now
be devoted to aid the cause of religion, and so
exercised, would indeed produce their true and
proper results. To this time, probably, we may
assign the general conversion of the people.

It was, perhaps, during the period of the previous
persecution that the event occurred which St. Aelred
next narrates. It was important as removing a
scandal which might have stood greatly in the way
of the progress of religion. It seems that clergy
were fixed, whether before St. Ninian's arrival, or
by him, in separate districts, which St. Aelred, in
the language which would be most intelligible to
his readers, designates as parishes. An unhappy
girl who had been seduced by a powerful master,
at his instigation accused the clergyman of being
the father of her child. The effect was astounding.
The good were distressed ; the weak offended ; the
wicked rejoiced ; and the low - minded ridiculed ;
the whole sacred order was blasphemed by the
ungodly. St. Ninian, however, was inwardly as-
sured of the innocence of the priest ; and in full
trust took the most public means of manifesting
it. He proceeded to the Church, summoned the
clergy and whole body of the people, preached
and then confirmed. The mother appeared with

342 ST. NINIAN

her child and openly denounced the priest; the
utmost excitement prevailed ; shame and derision
were the portion of the good ; when St. Ninian
called on the child just born to declare his father;
a voice was given to the infant and the truth
declared.

One other miracle is recorded, which, like the
one of the schoolboy, was associated with a per-
manent record in the name of the place, and a
mark in a stone, which, in St. Aelred's days, was
shown in Galloway. But now we know nothing of
the stone, and Pinkerton says, there is no place
which he knows of the name. The miracle itself
is, in some points, like one narrated by the Ecclesi-
astical historian, Sozomen, of St. Spiridion, a shep-
herd Bishop in Cyprus, who continued his simple
employment in the care of flocks, after he was
chosen to be a shepherd of souls. Of course there
is no reason why the miracle should not have been
performed by both saints. And if there be reason
to think that the Almighty did exercise miraculous
powers through His Saints, and that around them
and in them there was a spiritual agency at work,
let us be cautious how we judge these tales,
let us tread carefully on what may be hallowed
ground.

The story is this. St. Ninian and his brethren
had many flocks and herds, which they kept for
their own use ; for milk and cheese would be
monks' fare; and for hospitality to strangers and
the use of the poor? making provision to fulfil
the precept which Bishops and their chapters and
all monasteries were used to keep in mind, to

ST. NINIAN IN GALLOWAY 343

exercise hospitality without grudging. These cattle
were kept in pasture grounds, at some distance
from the monastery, and St. Ninian went to bless
the herds and their keepers. The Bishop had
them all brought together, lifted up his hands,
and committed himself and all that was his to
the guardianship of God. He then went round
them, and with his staff marked the ground within
the limits of which they were to stay, something
like what was afterwards done as a superstitious
spell. He then retired to the house of an honour-
able matron where he and his brethren were to
lodge. After refreshing themselves with food, and
their souls with the word of God, they retired to
rest. Meanwhile robbers arrive, and seeing the
herds unenclosed and unguarded, expect an easy
prey. The cattle remain quiet, no sound is heard,
no dog even is heard to bark ; they enter within
the limits, but do it to their cost. The bull of
the herd attacks and severely gores the ring-
leader of the thieves, and himself, digging his hoof
violently into the ground, impresses the mark of it
on the rock, as if in wax. The mark remained,
and the place was called in Saxon, Farres Last,
that is, the Bull's footmark, Tauri Vestigium, as
the Latin life explains it. Meanwhile after his
regular morning prayers, St. Ninian arrives, finds
the poor robber with his entrails torn out, and now
lifeless, and the others running about as if insane,
within the limit he had marked around the cattle.
He was deeply moved with pity, and entreated
that the robber might be restored to life ; nor did
he cease from prayers and tears till the same Power

344 ST. NINIAN

which had caused his death restored him again to
life. The other robbers who seemed possessed on
seeing St. Ninian, fell at his feet in fear and
trembling, and begged forgiveness. He kindly re-
proved them, pointed out the punishment which
awaited the robber, and at last, after giving them
his blessing, allowed them to depart. The result
was the sincere conversion of the man whose life
had been restored.

Perhaps the strangeness of this narrative ought
not to be any hindrance to our believing it. As
the most wonderful instance of his prayers being
heard, even to bringing the dead to life, its circum-
stances are especially dwelt on in the religious
services for his day. And we are sure the people
of Galloway would have been disappointed, if they
had not found this story in the Life of their own
Sainted Bishop ; for like the tree and the spring,
Farres Last must have made an early and deep
impression on their minds ; and often doubtless
was the story told to the stranger who passed that
way, and to their own little ones, and they would
go to see the deep impression of the bull's foot ;
and the sermon which St. Ninian had preached
would be afresh inculcated, and the fact appealed
to as the most vivid evidence of the wrongness
and the possible unexpected evil which might at
any time await the cattle stealer.

We may now pass on to St. Ninian's conversion
of the Southern Picts, of whom he is designated
the Apostle.

CHAPTER VIII

CONVERSION OF THE PICTS

THE labours of St. Ninian extended over a wide
district ; and were exercised among great troubles
and dangers, from the unsettled state of the country,
and the continual hostilities which prevailed. The
tract of country, which, so far as we know, had no
Pastor but himself, stretched from sea to sea, and,
besides the (now) English portion of it, from the
wall of Antoninus to that of Severus. The Western
part, however, was his special care. The rest was
a scene of war and rapine during the chief part of his
Episcopate ; and after fruitless endeavours to repel
the inroads of the mountaineers, the Roman forces
were at length withdrawn A.D. 410, and the Pro-
vincials left to defend themselves as best they could.
The tribes of St. Ninian's diocese had retained
their original divisions of clans, and though they
were rendered less fit to cope with the unsubdued
and uncivilised portions of the same great Celtic
race, whom we know as Picts, they yet combined,
and maintained themselves as a distinct people in
possession of their territory. The Picts might rob,
but do not seem to have displaced them. The
separate princes united in the election of a common
leader, and though harassed by internal broils and

345

346 ST. NINIAN

breaches of their federal compact, the Western tribes,
with the exception of Galloway, continued for six
centuries as an independent body, forming the British
kingdom of Strathclydd. During all the wars which
rent this unhappy district, Britons, Picts, and Scots,
it is said, united in reverencing St. Ninian. He was
allowed to travel, without molestation, through
countries which were the seat of war. His calm
presence seemed to breathe of peace and love, and
to inspire awe even in the wildest barbarians. It
has been so in these latter times. The Isle of Man
was to be spared by the French, for the sake of
Bishop Wilson, and in the wars of the Low
Countries at the beginning of the last century, the
Archbishop of Cambray was treated with reverence
by all the contending parties, and made his Episcopal
journeys unmolested in the midst of hostilities.

Who can say that it was not owing to the influence
of the holy truths, and the practical goodness incul-
cated by St. Ninian, that the tribes of his diocese
did so unite and retain a social life after the con-
vulsions which resulted from the departure of the
Romans ?

And now, after many years of patient toil and
assiduous teaching, having brought the people imme-
diately committed to him, to some unity of faith
and goodness of life; his ardent desire for the
salvation of men prompted him to undertake the
conversion of a tribe, who did not as yet know the
name of Christ, and were bitterly hostile to his own
countrymen. These were the Southern Picts, a
division of the numerous tribes, who, secured by the
mountains of the Highlands, had never submitted

CONVERSION OF THE PICTS 347

to the yoke of the Romans, and now in the decline
of their power revenged themselves on them, and
on the tribes of their own island, who had yielded
and been civilised by them.

It seems that Caledonians and Picts are but
different names for the same people, given originally
to one tribe or other, according to the circumstances
of their localities or ways of life, and then borne
by all in common. As inhabitants of the forests
of the Lowlands they had early had the name of
Woodmen, Caledones, given them. Another portion
again who occupied the plain country between the
Grampians and the sea, to the north of the Frith
of Forth, were called Peithi, a name which signifies
inhabitants of the open country, and by the Romans,
Picti (as the Welsh peithen is from the Latin pecten,
and effaith is from effectus), and from them the
whole race received the name. It was the coincid-
ence between their own Celtic name, and their
painted bodies, which gave a point to the well-
known line of Claudian, "non falso nomine Picti,"
which would have had little force, if they were only
called so because of their being painted. These
inhabitants of the plain country are the Southern
Picts. Those who remained in the fastnesses were
called Northern Picts, and the distinction of these
two portions of the race would become more marked,
from the different habits of life, which would gradu-
ally result from their different localities. The dis-
tinction was recognised in the middle of the fourth
century, when they were respectively called by the
Romans, Deucaledones, and Vecturiones ; of which
the former, it is said, means separate or far Cale-

348 ST. NINIAN

donians, those, that is, farther removed from the
Roman districts ; and Vecturiones is another Celtic
form of Picts, P and V being interchanged, and the
rest of the word, Peithwyr, or Peithwyron, differing
from simple Picts, as Englishmen does from English.

These Vecturiones — they to whom the name of
Pict first belonged, are the tribe of which St. Ninian
was the Apostle. They had first established them-
selves on the Eastern coast, as has been said, north
of the Frith of Forth and of the Roman wall ; and
many authors confine them to this district. Others
say that after the withdrawal of the Roman forces
they passed the wall, poured in upon the Eastern
coast of Valentia, and took up a position which
they permanently occupied, south of the Forth, in
the Lothians, and even reaching to Northumberland ;
they had previously acquired more settled habits
than the mountaineers, and so were fitted to establish
themselves permanently in the countries they sub-
dued. They existed as a separate people in the
time of Bede, who accurately distinguishes them
from those who lived within the mountain district.
It was, he says, when St. Columba went to convert
the Northern Picts, that he found the Southern ones
had been converted previously, and, as they stated,
by St. Ninian.

It seems most probable that it was after their
occupation of the country south of the Forth (sup-
posing they did occupy it), that he went amongst
them. It was that occupation which gave them a
more distinct and permanent nationality ; nor is it
to be supposed, that they should have become
Christians, and afterwards have attacked with so

CONVERSION OF THE PICTS 349

much cruelty the people to whom they were indebted
for the knowledge of the Gospel ; we will not think
so ill of them, barbarians as they were. And the dates
would lead to the same conclusion. The Romans
retired in 410. Ninian had then been thirteen
years in Galloway. He lived for twenty-two years
longer. The first thirteen years would not be more
than enough for the work he had to effect among
his own people. The last twenty-two allow space
for the Picts to have come down and occupied the
Eastern portion of Valentia, and to have been visited
and converted by St. Ninian.

They had overrun and seized on a part, the
farthest from his Church, of that wide field which
had been committed to his care. He was not then
going beyond his measure in endeavouring to win
them over. It is an early and a beautiful instance of
the power of the Church to reduce under her saving
sway, and by the armour of truth, meekness, and
righteousness, those whom carnal weapons had in
vain opposed — to lead captive the conqueror.

" It deeply grieved the Holy Bishop," St. Aelred
proceeds, " that Satan, when he had now been driven
from the rest of the world, had found a place in the
hearts of the Picts, in a corner of the island, near
the ocean. He girt himself accordingly as an ener-
getic athlete to put down his tyranny, taking to
himself the shield of faith, the helmet of hope, the
breast-plate of love, and the sword of the Spirit,
which is the word of God." As associates in his
labours, as comforters, and advisers, after the ex-
ample of St. Paul, he took with him a body of holy
brothers, those of his Clergy and religious society,

350 ST. NINIAN

who were most suited for the work. Happily they
had not to overcome the hindrance of a different
language, for though the dialects of the various
portions of the Celtic race were distinguished, there
still remained a sufficient similarity to allow of their
being mutually understood, even after a much longer
and greater separation than had yet taken place ; as
it is said the people of Brittany and the Welsh now
understand each other. They had, however, great
difficulties to struggle against, in the antipathy which
the free Celts entertained for those who had been
under the Roman sway — an antipathy stronger than
is felt towards people of quite a different race ; and
again, from the circumstance that they were them-
selves the aggressors, who had seized on the terri-
tories of the Southern tribes. Still there was
something calculated to melt their savage hearts in
the presence of one among them so different from
any they had known before, preaching the doctrines
of purity, humility, and forgiveness ; whose graces,
notwithstanding, would be recognised and loved by
all in whom there was a principle of good. He was
one of the people they had attacked, cruelly treated,
and displaced, and he was amongst them, not with
the tone of complaint, upbraiding, or revenge, but
meek and gentle, possessing a sweetness of temper,
and a calm and cheerful mind, which he pointed
out to them the means of attaining.

Their religion was the same as that of the other
tribes of the island had formerly been, though one
would suppose, in a more rude state of superstition
than the richer portion of the people, among whom
the Druids were so superior a caste. St. Ninian

CONVERSION OF THE PICTS 351

called them to forsake their idolatry and superstition,
and to turn to that Almighty in Whom, though
unknown, they yet believed ; to Him, Who gave
them rain from heaven, filling their hearts with food
and gladness. He called them from the conscious
misery of their present state — from the bondage of
vices which galled their very soul, to an obedience
and submission, which at once brought relief. He
told them of permanent existence, and a future re-
sponsibility, of which a voice within testified the
truth ; and he professed himself the minister of a
gracious dispensation, which would secure those
who embraced it in a future dreadful day. This
preaching would carry conviction with it to those
prepared souls which are found amongst the un-
civilised barbarians, as well as among simple rustics
or refined philosophers. Wherever man is, there are
hearts and consciences which will correspond to
the simple doctrines of religion, and be conscious
on hearing it of the truth that one thing is need-
ful. But his words, it is said, were not unaccom-
panied by convincing signs that he was indeed
what he professed, a messenger from that great
unseen Being in whom they believed. He performed
miracles among them. " The blind see," St. Aelred
says, "the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the
deaf hear, the dead are raised up, the possessed are
set free from the demons that afflict them." Thus
does he apply the description of our Saviour's works
to those of His servant. " He that believeth on me
the works that I do, shall he do also, and greater
things than these shall he do, because I go to the
Father."

352 ST. NINIAN

Perhaps had the evidence for these miracles been
asked, the conversion of the people would have been
appealed to as a sufficient proof — the effect most
distinctly establishing the cause. And had the
converts been asked the grounds on which they
believed, an appeal to the miracles would probably
have been their answer. Indeed, those who profess
themselves ready to admit the probability of miracles,
where there is an apparently adequate cause for
them, must allow it in the case of the Gospel being
preached to a barbarous people ; since the tangible
and obvious evidence of a miracle is best calculated
to affect them strongly, and to gain an attention for
the preacher, which it would require a long life
amongst them, and a long manifestation of the living
miracle of a saintly character to obtain.

St. Ninian, it is said, first converted the king of
the tribe, whose influence was exerted to further
the general acceptance of the Gospel among his
people. Such was at this period the usual course
of conversion. In the earlier ages, individuals were
gained over here and there, unknown to the world,
and generally of humble rank, and from them the
holy influence spread to relations and neighbours,
and those who had the opportunity of seeing what
the Gospel had wrought in them ; and so the leaven
was diffused through the whole mass, and at last
affected the rulers of the world. Afterwards the
course was generally the reverse. Kings were con-
verted, and brought their subjects over to the
profession of Christianity. The early ages gained
men by their own individual persuasion, and the
work was slow. In the latter period it was more

CONVERSION OF THE PICTS 353

rapid ; and if the converts were now more influenced
by earthly motives, their posterity at any rate reaped
abundant blessings from being brought into the fold
of Christ. Perhaps this change is indicated, when
after the lame and blind had not rilled the feast, it
is said that the last messengers were to compel
men to come in.

It is but reasonable to suppose that St. Ninian's
preaching was extended to those of the Southern
Picts, who still continued in their earlier settlement
north of the Frith of Forth. Indeed, as has been
said, many writers confine the settlement of this race
to the northern districts, and do not suppose them
to have had any permanent settlement south of the
Roman Wall. The question, however, is not of any
importance in its bearing on a history of St. Ninian.
Some again have confounded the southern Picts
with the British inhabitants of Valentia. Others,
with the race called Picts, who came from Ireland,
and occupied Galloway in the ninth century, and
who alone bore the name in the later period, when
the proper Picts were lost among the other nations
who occupied Scotland. St. Ninian was ever known
as the Apostle of the Southern Picts, and as his
proper mission was to the inhabitants of Galloway
and Valentia generally, it was not unnatural to
imagine these tribes to be those who are meant by
the Southern Picts. They were, however, clearly a
distinct tribe ; and it is a confirmation of the truth
of St. Aelred's history that he does so distinguish
them, as Bede had also done, and as the Collect
for St. Ninian's day, in the Aberdeen Breviary,
" Deus, qui populos Pictorum et Britonum per

VOL. V. Z

354 ST. NINIAN

doctrinam Sancti Niniani Episcopi et Confessoris
docuisti."

It was not, however, enough to gain the people to a
profession of the Gospel ; St. Ninian also provided for
the permanent maintenance of the Church, by the
consecration of Bishops and regular establishment of
Clergy. His biographer says, " he ordained Priests,
consecrated Bishops, arranged the ecclesiastical
Orders, and divided the whole country into parishes."
The last is noticed as an anachronism, as the system
of parochial division did not generally arise till a
much later period. It may however very probably
mean nothing more than the division of the country,
so that the Priests might each have his own definite
sphere of labour ; which was very necessary in so
wide and thinly peopled a district. In the conse-
cration of Bishops we do not know whether St.
Ninian acted alone, as was allowed in cases of
necessity ; and would be the more so here, as he
was not apparently included in any province, of
which the other Bishops might assist in the con-
secration ; or whether some of the British Bishops
joined in the sacred rite. They might still be
remaining in their Sees, but were far removed from
this country, and the hostilities and dangers which
prevailed might hinder them from coming.

We are equally in ignorance as to the succession
of the Bishopricks ; of which we know no more
than of those of the ancient Britons. It was very
possible that they might have been numerous, as
those of Ireland were. Of the portion North of
the Forth, Abernethy was the Bishoprick, and so
continued till later times, the Bishop, or as he was

CONVERSION OF THE PICTS 355

sometimes styled, Archbishop of that See, being
called the Bishop of the Picts. In all probability
St. Ninian would leave some of his own clergy, as
the Priests and Bishops of his new converts. They
could not themselves so soon have persons who
could be entrusted with the sacred office for pre-
serving the deposit of the truth, and St. Ninian,
from his own experience, would be conscious of the
value of a long and careful preparation for the
sacred ministry. Nor is there any reason why we
should not suppose that he revisited the Picts, and
from time to time supplied what was wanting for
the completeness of their ecclesiastical system. St.
Aelred, indeed, speaks as if all had been done in
one visit, but he might naturally adopt such a
summary mode of narration when he was without
any distinct information of the particulars of the
visits. He passes on at the conclusion to the tran-
quillity which characterised the latter days of the
Saint. " When he had confirmed the sons whom
he had begotten in Christ in faith and good works,
and arranged all which seemed necessary for the
honour of God and the salvation of souls, the Saint
bade farewell to his brethren, and returned to his
own Church, where he spent the rest of his life,
perfect in holiness, and glorious by his miracles, in
great peace and tranquillity of mind."

By the Picts his name was remembered, and the
Church he formed among them preserved. It was
above a century after when St. Columba came
amongst them, and they then professed Christianity,
and mentioned St. Ninian as the Bishop by whom
they had been converted.

CHAPTER IX
ST. NINIAN'S LATTER DAYS

AND now that we have followed the Saint through
the broken incidents of a holy and laborious life,
there are few remaining points on which to dwell,
but such as they are, they will be interesting to
recount.

And first, of the personal habits of St. Ninian.
Koly and spotless as he had been through life, it
would seem as if he might have been free from
penitential austerities, and have spared the hard-
nesses which others must use with themselves. But
such views proceed on erroneous notions, since they
contradict the practice of the most eminent saints.
The most pure and holy have ever been the most
severe in their mortifications. Holy men, such as
he was, become, as it would seem, not only in-
different to worldly comforts, but lovers of suffering
endured for Christ's sake, and that principally from
the love of Him. It seems to them, so to say,
unnatural to live at ease, when He endured so
much on their account. And they may suffer in
a way which corresponds to His sufferings, by
suffering for their people, by accompanying their
earnest intercessions with those acts of mortifica-

356

ST. NINIAN'S LATTER DAYS 357

tion which are natural in deep sorrow. There is
ever before them the sight of some, lost to their
true interests, passing day by day from a life of
folly and forgetfulness into an unchanging state ;
and yearning for their recovery and salvation, yet
unable to effect it, when their words seem to them
as idle tales, to weep, to fast, to pray, to* endeavour
to prevail with God for them is their natural re-
source. Then again, in a deep humble sense of
not having corresponded to the influence of Divine
Grace ; the consciousness that though they have
not wilfully and obstinately continued in sin, yet
they have not improved duly the spiritual privileges
afforded to them ; the knowledge of imperfection
and tendencies to sin — all these are so clearly seen,
and acutely felt by those who really love God, that
the sorrows and afflictions of saints are ever peni-
tential. Let us not then be surprised, if, when we
draw near St. Ninian, and learn his secret ways, we
do not find contrivances for comfort, or the enjoy-
ment of life.

They show on the coast of Galloway, on the face
of a lofty and precipitous line of rocks, against
which one of the stormiest of our seas incessantly
beats, a damp chilly cave, lying one-third of the
way, it may be, from the bottom of the cliff, and
accessible only by climbing and springing from
rock to rock. It is a deep recess, running back
some twenty feet, and gradually narrowing from
the mouth, where it may be twelve feet high, and
as many wide. There is nothing to screen it from
the winds and spray which beat against the rock,
no bottom of earth to rest upon, but only bare

358 ST. NINIAN

uneven stone. Here, the tradition of the country
says, St. Ninian used to come for penitential and
devotional retirement ; and it is not improbable.
For a religious person in those days, to retire to
a cave, nay, to live in one all his life, was no strange
thing ; it was but to follow in the steps of the con-
fessors of the earlier dispensation, who lived in dens
and caves of the earth. It was the ordinary practice
of good people thus to deprive themselves of every
earthly comfort, and to realise the time when they
should be completely stripped of all which this
world can afford, in the cold and silent tomb. To
practise as it were beforehand, what every one at
some time must actually undergo, silence, and
loneliness, and reflection ; without any thing of this
world to occupy the thoughts, or to afford outward
comfort. St. Ciaran, the Apostle of the Scoto-Irish,
had a cave in Kintire ; and near St. Andrews, the
place of St. Rule's retirement, there are many caves
which were the retreats of religious men ; and he
whom St. Ninian specially reverenced, the Saint
of Tours, as we have seen, lived with his associates
in caves. It has been thought that they were places
of concealment, to which a holy man might retreat
from the persecution his preaching would excite ;
and there was need St. Ninian should have such
a protection, for he was not unfrequently in danger
from the attacks of the obstinate and the unbe-
lieving. One would rather, however, view them as
places for religious retirement, and imagine the holy
Ninian going aside to rest awhile, from the many
who were coming and going, to withdraw at seasons
from the hurry and distraction of his office, to con-

ST. NINIAN'S LATTER DAYS 359

sider his own state, to examine his spiritual progress,
to mourn over what was evil, to deprecate the Divine
displeasure, and to intercede for his people ; and
surely it seems more fitting to do so in a lone and
cheerless spot, out of the reach of men, in hunger
and thirst, in cold and nakedness, with the wild
winds howling around, and the sea and the waves
roaring, and sea-birds screaming, than surrounded
by comforts, and the appliances of luxury. And
if it is rather probable antecedently, that St. Ninian
should have a place of retreat, and the practice
of the times would lead him to choose a cave, we
should most naturally believe it to be that which
popular tradition has pointed out.

Another instance of his mortified life, not it is
presumed uncommon in the histories of saints, is
the practice, as it has been reported, of abstaining
from all food during the awful season of our blessed
Redeemer's sufferings, in sympathy, penitence, and
love. It is said he tasted nothing from the evening
of Maundy Thursday, till he had partaken of the
Holy Sacrament on Easter Day.

There is an old Life of St. Ninian in Ireland,
referred to by Archbishop Usher, which reports
further acts of self-denial, and withdrawal from all
that winds itself around the heart, even the dearest
ties of blood. It says that the mother and relations
of the Saint were used to visit him, and that to
separate himself from all intercourse with them, he
went over to Ireland, accompanied by some of his
disciples, and there, on a piece of ground given
him by the king, founded the monastery of Cluayn
Coner, where he spent the rest of his life and died.

360 ST. NINIAN

The account of his retreat is one of those stories
which may illustrate character, and show what it
was thought he would do ; but, as a matter of fact,
it has no authority, and as regards his death, is
contrary to the best testimony, which represents
him as having died, and been buried in his own
Church, at Whithern.

We have one more point in which to view St.
Ninian, and then we will take leave of him — that
is, as an author ; in which character he appears in
the ancient collections of our national writers, by
Leland, Bale, and Pits. It is by no means im-
probable, indeed most likely, that he should commit
to writing what would be for the good of his clergy
and scholars. He had stored up at Rome the
lessons of the great teachers of the Church ; he
had doubtless studied the writings of others, and
himself through life meditated on the Holy Scrip-
tures. He was now but perpetuating for the
benefit of others, the spontaneous outpourings of
his mind, or the solutions of those difficulties which
were proposed to him. Such is the character of
the writings which are attributed to him — Com-
mentaries on the Holy Scriptures, and in particular,
Meditations on the Psalms. These were the Medita-
tions which had been the solace of his travels on
the wilds of Galloway, the fruits of a deeply con-
templative spirit exercised on those sacred words,
which, by their continual repetition, and adaptation
to the varying circumstances of the Christian life,
are associated with our holiest thoughts. The other
work of which the title is handed down, was one
composed, doubtless, as a Theological Manual for

ST. NINIAN'S LATTER DAYS 361

the Clergy and Students of Whithern.1 It was a
collection of Sentences from the Fathers, of passages
expressing their sentiments on points of doctrine
and morals ; most probably arranged under heads,
and so forming a body of divinity, and giving the
most important portions — the very essence of their
writings. The value of such a work to St. Ninian's
clergy can scarcely be over-rated. They could not
afford a large library, and might have read much
without obtaining the advantages which such a
selection would afford. It might, we may imagine,
have been St. Ninian's work at Rome, where he
had leisure and free access to libraries, and where
such a commonplace book would have proved a
useful aid in his own studies, to enter the passages
which he would most wish to preserve. For though
the most voluminous of the Fathers, as we have
them, were only sending out their works during
his stay at Rome, there were many remains of
older ones which we have lost. And he was now
only making that which had been intended for his
own reference and perusal, a benefit to others ; and
very great was the use of such a selection in in-
stilling and preserving sound doctrine in the minds
of those who were to teach others.

Such was St. Ninian, the young and noble Briton,
who, for the love of Christ, and the true knowledge
of Him, went forth from his country and his father's

1 " Ex iis autem quse post se reliquit, aliqua saltern nomine tenus
tenemus teste sixto senensi,

Meditationum in Psalmos Davidis librum unum ;
De Sanctorum Sententiis librum unum."

Pitseus de Illustribus Britanniae Scriptoribus, p. 87.

362 ST. NINIAN

house. Such was he ; a laborious apostle, enduring
toil, difficulty, and reproach, in bringing men to
Christ ; a mortified ascetic, and meditative student ;
a kind teacher of babes, a humble, gentle, and cir-
cumspect governor of a religious society. And
great was the fruit of his labours, in the recovery
and salvation of souls, great in the glory of which
he himself was made a partaker.

His life had been continued till the year 432, that
is above seventy years. During the last five-and-
thirty, nearly half of the whole, he had laboured in
the wild, barbarous, and unsettled country to which
he had been appointed as a Missionary Bishop.
Worldly honours, comforts, possessions, he had cast
behind him. He lived for God, and to do His will.
His peaceful days of study and meditation in the
sacred city, he might look back upon as sweet and
holy days, full of spiritual privileges, and the source
of many a blessing ; but it would be as one sur-
rounded by the rich fruits of autumn would look
back on spring ; as very fair, and in its time seeming
more pleasant, but chiefly valuable as instrumental
towards the true good which he is now enjoying,
though it may be, among many labours. But such
labours, it has been beautifully said, are sweet —
sweet as those of the husbandman, who rejoices in
the heavier load of corn by the increased value of
his possessions — sweet as to the gatherer of frank-
incense, by the delights elicited in his toils.

Advanced in years, surrounded by his spiritual
children and friends, beholding the effect of his
labours, the time is come for him to depart. — To
adopt the words of St. Aelred, "To the blessed

ST. NINIAN'S LATTER DAYS 363

Saint himself that day was a day of joy and
gladness ; to the people over whom he presided,
one of tribulation and distress. He rejoiced, for
heaven was opening to him. His people grieved
at being deprived of such a Father. He rejoiced,
for a crown of immortality was preparing for him.
They were in sorrow, because their salvation seemed
in danger. Nay, even the fulness of his joy was
impaired by his love for them ; to leave them was
a heavy trial, but to be longer separated from Christ
appeared beyond endurance.

"But while his soul was thus delaying, Christ
consoles him, ' Rise up/ He said, ' my beloved, my
dove (in the English Version,1 ' my love, my fair
one '), make haste, and come away.' * Rise up, my
beloved, rise up, my Dove.' Rise up in thought,
make haste by desire, come by affection. Suitable,
indeed, were these words to this most blessed Saint,
as one to whom, as the friend of the Bridegroom,
that heavenly Bridegroom had committed his Bride,
to whom He had revealed His secrets, and opened
His treasures. Deservedly is that soul called
beloved, in whom all is made up of love, and there
is nothing of fear. ' My beloved,' He says, * my
dove.' My dove — a dove truly taught to mourn,
that knew nothing of the gall of bitterness, but
wept with those that wept, was weak with the
weak, and burned for those that were offended.
* Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.'

" ' For lo ! the winter is past, the rain is over and
gone.' Then, O blessed Saint, the winter was indeed
past to thee, when, with happy eye, thou didst gain
1 Cant. i. 10.

364 ST. NINIAN

the sight of thy heavenly country — that country
which the Sun of righteousness illumines by the
brightness of His light, which love warms, and a
wonderful equality, like the attempering of the
springtime, regulates by an ineffable unity. Then
the unseasonable winter which fills all on earth with
discomfort, which hardens the frozen hearts of men
by vices that fall upon them, where neither truth
shines, nor love burns to the full — this was past and
gone, and thy holy soul, completely triumphant,
escaped from the showers of temptations, and the
hail-storms of persecutions, into the beauty of per-
petual verdure.

" ' The flowers,' he says, ' have appeared in our
land. For around thee, O blessed Ninian, breathed
the odours of the flowers of Paradise, when on thee,
as on one most familiar to them, the multitudes of
those that are clothed in crimson and white, smiled
with placid countenance, and bid thee to their
company — they whom chastity has clothed with
white, and love with blushing crimson. For though
no occasion was afforded thee to give the sign of
bodily martyrdom, still that without which martyr-
dom is nothing, denied not the merit of martyrdom.'
For so often as he offered himself to the swords of
the perverse, so often as in the cause of righteous-
ness he opposed himself to the arms of tyrants, he
was prepared to fall in the cause of truth, and to die
for righteousness. Deservedly then is he admitted
among the flowers of the roses, and the lilies of the
valley — himself clothed in crimson and white, going
up from Lebanon to be crowned among the hosts
of heaven.

ST. NINIAN'S LATTER DAYS 365

" ' For the time of the vintage is come/ For soon,
as a full ripe cluster, he must be cut from the stem
of the body, from the vineyard of the Church on
earth, to be pressed by love, and laid up in the
storehouses of heaven.

"Thus the blessed Ninian, perfect in life, mature
in years, happily departed from the world, and
attended by angelic spirits, was borne to heaven ;
and there associated with the company of the
Apostles, mingling with the ranks of Martyrs, and
united to the bands of holy Confessors, adorned
with the Virgin's flowers, he ceases not to succour
those on earth who hope in him, call on him, and
praise him.

" He was buried in the Church of St. Martin, which
he had himself built from the foundation, and placed
in a stone coffin near the altar, the Clergy and people
standing by, and lifting up their heavenly hymns
with heart and voice, with sighs and tears. And
at this place the power which had shone forth in
his life, ceases not in death to manifest itself around
his body, so that all the faithful recognise him as
living in heaven, because it is evident that he
produces effects on earth. At his most sacred tomb,
the sick are cured, the lepers are cleansed, the evil
ones are affrighted, the blind receive their sight.
And by all these things the faith of believers is
confirmed to the praise and glory of our Lord Jesus
Christ, who liveth and reigneth with God the Father,
in the unity of the Holy Ghost, world without end.
Amen."

The death of St. Ninian occurred on the i6th of
September, A.D. 432 ; and on that day his memory

366 ST. NINIAN

was celebrated in the Scottish Church, in Catholic
ages, with deep veneration, as their chiefest Saint,
to whom first they owed it, that they had been
brought from darkness to light, and from the power
of Satan to God. The service for the day in the
Aberdeen Breviary is very beautiful, and in con-
nection with his history, most interesting. It
contains nine Lessons, extracted from St. Aelred's
life, and throws into devotional form the various
events we have been recording. The circumstances
of his life and miracles are expressed in hymns
and proses, antiphones and responses, which once
were chaunted in his praise throughout all the
Churches of Scotland. His name and day were
noted in the Kalendar prefixed to the Scottish
Prayer Book of King Charles the First.

The rest of St. Aelred's work is occupied by a.
detailed account of miracles wrought at the tomb
of St. Ninian, which it is not necessary now to
narrate. " When the Saint had been taken up to
heaven," he says, "the multitude of the faithful
continued to visit, with the deepest devotion, what
seemed to be left them of him — his most holy
remains, and out of regard to their piety and faith,
the Almighty showed, by the evidence of numerous
miracles, that, though the common lot of mortality
had taken His Saint from the earth, yet he still lived
in heaven." A distorted child was first restored ;
this led many to hasten to bring their varied diseases
before his holy relics ; in particular, a man covered
with a cutaneous disease of a most horrible kind
was restored ; then a girl, who had lost her sight ;
and two lepers were made clean by bathing in his

ST. NINIAN'S LATTER DAYS 367

spring. "Through his prayers," to quote a hymn
for his day, " the shipwrecked find a harbour, and
the barren woman is blessed with offspring " ; and
St. Aelred says that the power continued to be
manifested even in his own times.

TlDDADV CT UADV'C r All Cfl

CHAPTER X
CONCLUSION

AND now, that we have followed St. Ninian through
his laborious life to his peaceful rest, we may not
unnaturally wish to know what became of his Church
and people after he was taken from them. On this
point, however, our information is very limited, and
much is left to be inferred from probabilities.

He had introduced the Ritual and Observances of
the Roman Church, which were certainly different
from those which the Britons used. Of these, how-
ever, no traces can be discovered. It would seem
as if they had been lost among the changes which
occurred between his death and the time of Bede ;
for, though that writer carefully sought for instances
of conformity with Rome, he makes no mention of
this, which would have been marked in itself, and
known to the Saxons at Whithern. The Church
of St. Ninian may herein have conformed to the
practices of the other Britons, under the Episcopate
of St. Kentigern, or have quite sunk into obscurity.

We should naturally expect that the instructions
he established, would, for a time at least, be main-
tained ; that the religious society would hold to-
gether, and continue its work, as a refuge of piety
and teacher of religion ; and there is some con-

CONCLUSION 369

firmation of this expectation in the statement of
Scottish historians, that St. Ninian's monastery was
a school which supplied teachers for the people ;
and that of Bede, that the body of the Saint, with
those of many holy men rested in the Church of
Whithern, as though there was there a home of
Saints.

As regards the succession to his See, we are alto-
gether without information. It is possible that in
the troubled state of the country, when the Picts
and Scots were so grievously afflicting the Britons,
and when there certainly was so great a want of
earnestness among the British Bishops, they may
have neglected to supply a successor to St. Ninian ;
and the monastery and country priests may have
continued without a pastor, trusting to occasional
missionary visits, such as those of Palladius and
others. The Church he loved so well was now
desolate, and a widow. This seems most probably
to have been the case till the time of St. Kentigern,
who fixed his See at Glasgow, and included in his
diocese the district which had been St. Ninian's
care, and, it is said, completed the work of con-
version. That diocese, as has been stated before,
extended over the south-west of Scotland, and the
Cumbrian Britons, as far as Stainmoor ; and Whit-
hern, whether it retained its monastery or not,
became subordinate.

Meanwhile the Saxons were occupying England ;
were themselves being converted ; and their power
rapidly increasing, accompanied by a depth and
earnestness of religion, perhaps unequalled in any
people. From being the most barbarous, they be-

VOL. v. 2 A

370 ST. NINIAN

came the most devout. The nation seemed a really
Christian nation, and England was indeed an Isle
of Saints. A spirit of piety was diffused through
every class. Political measures were in consequence
determined by the principles of the Gospel ; and
Saxon conquests were Christian ones, subordinate
to the great objects of extending the privileges of
religion, and procuring everlasting good for those
whom they subdued.

It was the lot of Galloway in the eighth century
to be overcome, and partially occupied by them, as
a portion of the kingdom of Bernicia ; and they,
too, revered St. Ninian ; and in the place where he
was resting, and where his miracles were recorded
to have been wrought, they established a monas-
tery, and introduced a new succession of Bishops,
under the metropolitan See of York. Then it was
that Bede wrote of St. Ninian, and Alcuin was in
correspondence with the brethren of the monastery.
This succession continued as long as the Saxons
had possession of Galloway ; and the names of the
Bishops are recorded from 723 to 790.

After this it was again broken ; for fresh incur-
sions afflicted the unhappy country. They were
now overrun, not by a people who introduced a
pure religion and social improvement, but by hordes
of Irish, called Cruithne, or Picts, which is said to
be a word of the same meaning ; a distinct race,
be it observed, from all who had previously borne
that name. They were an uncivilised and very
savage people, who brought their own religion and
habits, and established them here.

They were long known as the wild Picts of

CONCLUSION 371

Galloway, and continued as a distinct and notori-
ously barbarous people till after the time of St.
Aelred ; indeed, Gaelic continued to be spoken here
till the time of Mary Stuart. These are the Picts
of later times, from whom the Picts' wall is named.
During the dreary period which followed their in-
vasion, the Bishop of Man, the nearest See, took
charge of the deserted flock. A work of love which
may add some little to our interest in that lowly
relic of the Celtic Church.

In the twelfth century, however, brighter days
beamed on Galloway. The power of the Saxon
race who ruled in Scotland increased, and the
Lords of Galloway, with their country, became
dependent on the sovereign, and enjoyed the dan-
gerous distinction of being the first to make the
onset in his battles. David I. was a devotedly
religious prince ; the perfect example, as historians
not disposed to flattery have called him, of a good
king, whom St. Aelred loved and mourned over as
though he were his father. His great object was
to restore religion in Scotland, and with this view
he founded Bishopricks and monasteries throughout
his dominions, and St. Ninian's See was first re-
stored.1 But such was the fallen condition of the
Scottish Church, that no Bishop was left to con-
secrate the newly-appointed one. And by the direc-
tion of the Pope, Thurstan, the Archbishop of York,
performed the office. The Bishop, Gilaldan, from
the evidence of ancient custom, as he said, acknow-
ledged the obedience of his See to York ; referring

1 If it had not been, it was earlier ; as some think, by Malcolm III.,
in the preceding century.

372 ST. N IN I AN

to the time of the Saxon succession in the eighth
century. Galloway thus again became part of the
Province of York, which gives the English Church
another claim on St. Ninian ; and so continued,
certainly till the fourteenth century, and perhaps
till the establishment of St. Andrew's as a metro-
politan Church in the fifteenth. Thus was the
Church again restored in Galloway, and continued
to flourish till the change of religion in the six-
teenth century ; her Bishop, out of regard to St.
Ninian, and the antiquity of the See, taking the
first place among the Scottish Bishops.

Soon after this new foundation of the Bishoprick,
the Lord of Galloway, Fergus, followed up the work
of his sovereign and friend, and imitated in Gallo-
way the course he had taken in the rest of Scot-
land. He is spoken of by the historians of Galloway
as in his sphere, one of the greatest benefactors of
his country. He found his people wild, barbarous,
and irreligious, and to effect a reformation among
them, he established monasteries, as sources from
which flowed forth the blessings of holy example
and Christian teaching, and moral and social im-
provement, which in time took effect upon the
people.

At Whithern he introduced a body of Praemon-
stratensian canons, an order then recently estab-
lished, and full of life ; it was an offset from Saul-
seat, where he had previously brought a colony
from Cockersand, in Lancashire. These formed the
Chapter (the Prior, during the vacancy of the See,
being Vicar-General), and elected the Bishop, though
with occasional opposition from the secular Clergy.

CONCLUSION 373

It was soon after the foundation of the Priory that
St. Aelred wrote his Life of St. Ninian, and the
chancel of the Church was built not long after ; the
publication of the Life probably making the virtues
of St. Ninian known, and drawing numerous wor-
shippers and offerings to his shrine.

From that time the Saint was held in the highest
veneration, and his shrine visited, and his interces-
sion sought by people from every part. Thousands
of pilgrims came every year ; and a general protec-
tion, very necessary in those days of Border war-
fare, was granted by James the First, in 1425, to all
strangers coming into Scotland to visit St. Ninian's
tomb; and in 1506 it was renewed for all persons
of England, Ireland, and the Isle of Man, coming by
sea or land to the Church of Whithern in honour
of St. Ninian.

Numerous Churches in every part of Scotland are
dedicated to him. In England there is one at
Brougham, in the diocese of Carlisle, within the
limits of his ancient diocese, the name of which is
now corrupted into Ninechurch ; and another, it is
believed, at a place, called St. Ninian's, in Nor-
thumberland, where an annual fair is held on his
Day (O. S.), Sept. 27. Many wells too in the
Border counties are called by his name, and be-
lieved to have special virtues derived from him ;
never drying in the hottest, or freezing in the
coldest weather ; and still thought by the people
to wash linen whiter than any other water.

The accounts of miracles wrought, and blessings
obtained through his prayers, enter largely into the
ordinary civil history of Scotland. For instance,

374 ST. NINIAN

David II. received several wounds from the English
archers, at Neville's Cross, before he was taken
prisoner ; one of the arrow heads could not be
extracted, and remained, it is said by the historian
of the times, till he went to St. Ninian's, then the
flesh opened and the arrow head sprung out.

Besides other kings and nobles who visited the
shrine, James IV., on whom the memory of his
father's death hung so heavily, made a pilgrimage
to St. Ninian's (so Whithern was usually called),
once at least every year. The treasurer's books
of his reign contain many notices illustrative of the
circumstances of his visits and his large almsgivings.
One pilgrimage he made on foot to pray for the
safety of his Queen on the birth of her first son,
and, after her recovery, she came with a great
attendance to return thanks for the blessing she
had received. This was Margaret, the daughter
of Henry VII. and the mother of our Stuarts.

In the next generation, when Whithern was again
without a Bishop, these pilgrimages continued so
rooted in the habits and affections of the people,
that the utmost zeal of the preachers could not put
them down, till they were made punishable by law,
in 1581. Such was the regard for our holy Saint,
and so deeply fixed in the minds of those who had
been blessed by him. And doubtless it still lingers
in the belief of those who enjoy the fair water of
his springs, or show his cave to the passing stranger,
or glory in the honour the Saint once gave to their
native town.

James I. restored a Bishop to Galloway, who was
consecrated in 1610. The succession continued till

CONCLUSION 375

1689; when John Gordon, the last Bishop, followed
the King to Ireland and France, and continued to
perform the offices of the English Church at St.
Germains. He died abroad ; and St. Ninian's
country was again included in the diocese of
Glasgow — in name, at least, for throughout the
whole district of Galloway, there is no Clergyman
or congregation in communion with the Scottish
Bishops. So entirely has that portion been swept
away, so dreary a region to an Englishman is the
country which St. Ninian blessed by his labours
and his prayers.

In 1684 the tower of the Church was still standing
among the ruins of the aisles, transepts, and exten-
sive monastic buildings. All these are gone ; but
we may still trace them partly in their foundations,
partly as portions of houses, partly as used for
building materials, or kept as ornaments. The
chancel has been preserved, being used by the
Parishioners, till of late years, as their place of
worship. It was built upon the site of much more
ancient buildings, which had been the crypt, as it
would seem, of an extensive Church ; for there are
large vaults of old and rude masonry around, which
rise higher than the level of the chancel floor. They
must have been part of the original Church of St.
Ninian, of the fourth century ; or built by the
Saxons in the eighth century, and it would be
interesting to ascertain whether they are not really
part of a Church, the building and date of which
are so marked in the Ecclesiastical History of
Scotland. The chancel is a well-proportioned and
beautiful specimen of the early English style. The

376 ST. NINIAN

South-west doorway is round, and elegantly worked,
the windows pointed, of single lights. In the north
wall, in the usual place near the east end, are two
canopied recesses, apparently sepulchral ones, nearly
on the level of the floor, in one of which doubtless
St. Ninian's body lay.1 This even is now dis-
mantled ; a new building was erected about twenty
years ago, which is the place of worship for the
Parishioners ; and the roof and furniture were
removed from the old chancel, and the mere walls
left ; and that Church — once the most honoured in
Scotland, where the holy remains of St. Ninian lay,
and crowds of suppliants sought his intercession,
where once the chaunt was heard by night and day,
where holy men anticipated and prepared for heaven
— that Church is now bare and roofless, exposed to
the wild winds; grass grows upon the pavement,
and ivy and wild flowers ornament its walls. A
sad sight indeed ; but it is beautiful in its ruins,
and more pleasing far thus consecrated by loneli-
ness and desolation, than defaced by incongruities,
or applied to uses inconsistent with its spirit. A
sad sight indeed, but one which harmonises well
with the condition of that system of which it
formed a part ; a system the fair relics of which
we love to trace in history, and complete in imag-

1 The words, north and east are used, though improperly, for the
Church stands north and south ; a circumstance which we may connect
with St. Aelred, for that is the position of his Abbey Church at
Rievaux, and persons are sometimes glad to repeat even defects, when
they remind them of a place they love. Fergus loved Aelred, and
planted a colony of Cistercians from Rievaux at Dundrennan ; St.
Aelred himself was in Galloway, and probably concerned in founding
the Priory.

CONCLUSION 377

ination ; which once was, and is no longer. Here
St. Ninian laboured to raise a spiritual as well as
a material Building, and to frame it in its services
and doctrines after the Catholic model. Where is
that Church? Where are those services now? There
remains but a ruin of what once existed in beauty
and honour.

LIVES OF
ST. WALTHEOF

AND

ST. ROBERT OF NEWMINSTER

INTRODUCTION

IT may have been observed that hitherto there have
been comparatively few miracles in the Lives of
Cistercian Saints. There even seems to be a dislike
to looking out for miracles, as arguing a want of faith.
Thus St. Aelred, in a passage already referred to,
says, " There is also another sort of curiosity, which
is the worst, by which, however, those alone are
attacked who are conscious within themselves of
great virtues, I mean the experimenting on one's
own sanctity by the exhibition of miracles, which
is tempting God. And if a man consent to this
very wicked vice and is disappointed, his anguish
of soul will lead him into the straits of despair,
or the sacrilege of blasphemy." l Again, that is a
significant story told of the successor of St. Bernard,
at Clairvaux, that he begged of the saint to work
no more miracles, as the concourse of people at his
tomb distracted the devotion of the monks. In the
two lives, however, which close the series of Cistercian
Saints in England, there is a marked difference in
this respect ; both abound in that class of stories
commonly called legends. Many of these are so
well fitted to illustrate certain principles which

1 Spec. Car. 2. 24.
381

382 ST. WALTHEOF AND ST. ROBERT

should be borne in mind in considering mediaeval
miracles, that they deserve some attention. Not
that anything here said is intended to prove that
the stories of miracles said to be wrought in the
middle ages, are true. Men will always believe or
disbelieve their truth, in proportion as they are
disposed to admit or reject the antecedent proba-
bility of the existence of a perpetual church endowed
with unfailing divine powers. And the reason of
this is plain. Ecclesiastical miracles presuppose the
Catholic faith just as Scripture miracles, and Scrip-
ture itself presuppose the existence of God. Men,
therefore, who disbelieve the faith, will of course
disbelieve the story of the miracles, which, if it is
not appealed to as a proof of the faith, at least
takes it for granted. For instance, the real reason
for rejecting the account of the vision which appeared
to St. Waltheof in the Holy Eucharist, must be
disbelief of the Catholic doctrine. Without, however,
entering on so wide a subject, it will be enough to
examine, as it were, the phenomena of the miracles
themselves, and to see what can be made out as to
their probable truth or falsehood.

First, then, no one can read the legends of the
middle ages without observing their highly poetical
character. They form in themselves a vast literature
of every country in Europe, many of them containing
the only contemporary history of the period at which
they were written, and many having a beauty and
a freshness which has been observed by many who
disbelieved them. Besides which, they are the ex-
ponents of a well-defined idea, and are formed on
a religious type which is clear enough to those who

INTRODUCTION 383

talk most loudly against them. The notion of a
saint which they embody is a very definite one, and
the writers evidently know what they are talking
about. It seems most unphilosophical to suppose
that such writers were men who knowingly wrote
to deceive ; the vast volumes of the Bollandists,
illustrated as they are with such astonishing his-
torical and antiquarian learning, would be most
extraordinary compositions if this were the case.
And, in fact, there are now comparatively few who
take this view of the legends of saints. They are
generally now opposed on the ground of their
poetical character, and not as being intentional
fabrications. In fact, the two objections are incom-
patible ; no one would dream of calling a poet
dishonest, because his narrative is fictitious. If he
believes the stories on which he writes, he may be
called superstitious, but that is a very different in-
dictment. To call a tale poetical is, however, by
no means to say that it is true ; on the contrary,
this is the very ground on which legends are
commonly said to be false. They are thought to
be the natural product of the Christian religion
acting upon the vigorous imagination of a youthful
people ; they are the offspring of the human mind
in one stage of its progress, and they come out of
it as the acorn out of the oak, and the flower out of
the plant. In other words, legends of saints are the
creations of the mind of man in the same sense
as the Hindoo or Greek mythology ; Christianity,
indeed, being a purer religion, has substituted some
holy virgin as a guardian for the sacred well, instead
of the Grecian Naiad, but one being is as much a

384 ST. WALTHEOF AND ST. ROBERT

fiction as the other. And the legends themselves
are a proof of this ; they are observed to vary in
character according to the country which gave them
birth. The legends of the sandy Thebais, with their
repose and Eastern gravity, contrast strongly with
the wild stories of western hermits, which are the
genuine products of the forest and the cavern by
the sea-shore. Celtic legends also have a savage air
peculiar to themselves, with their tales of serpents
and monsters, reminding the reader strongly that
St. Michael has just succeeded to the holy isles of
the Druids ; while Saxon stories are of a homely
and domestic cast. All these legends, the argument
proceeds, show their peculiar origin by their variety,
just as the nature of the soil is betrayed by the
plants which grow upon it. These legends, there-
fore, are of the earth, and we need rise no higher
for their origin. Secondly, to bring the matter nearer
to our subject, not only do these considerations
account for the existence of legendary literature, but
they account for visions and prodigies of all sorts.
The same love of the marvellous which produces
fairy tales and ghost stories, will also make the
peasant fancy that he sees the elves dancing by
moonlight on the mountain-side ; and by the same
law of our minds, the vivid imagination of a good
man, acted upon by his devotion, might produce
on his mind a strong impression which might take
the shape of a vision. In the case of St. Waltheof,
for instance, it may be observed that the visions
which he saw occurred always on the feast-days
and holy times of the church. Now it may be that
a high-wrought state of mind, worked upon by long

INTRODUCTION 385

and exciting services, produced the vision, as the
events of a day produce a dream.

This is the way in which men argue, and it is
not necessary just now to inquire how far the fact
on which the argument is grounded, is true. Few
would doubt that many legends of the lives of
Saints are strongly tinctured by popular devotion,
or it may be by superstition. How, indeed, could
it be otherwise? When it is known that many
islands on the savage coast of Britanny, for in-
stance, were in a half heathen state, and required
missionaries in the seventeenth century, can they
be supposed to have been less benighted in the
tenth? It may, therefore, very safely be allowed
that many legends of the middle ages are but a
reflection of the truth rather than the truth itself.
Some of them are mere myths, and belong to the
same class as the beautiful stories of the Saintgrail,
and of King Arthur's knights. And indeed this is
the way in which most authors now regard them.
The Bollandists are by no means sparing of such
epithets as inepta and ridicul(zy applied to many
legends which they have published. Time has gone
on, and in its course men are altered too ; and they
can no longer receive indiscriminately what the faith
of their ancestors fed upon. We must be men, it
is said, and criticism and historic truth must take
the place of simple belief.

This is not, however, what we would now dwell
upon : our (present object is rather to point out that
with all the drawbacks that are to be made on the
score of the superstition pervading a portion of
ancient lives of Saints, the argument drawn out

VOL. V. 2 B

386 ST. WALTHEOF AND ST. ROBERT

above does not cut the ground from under medieval
miracles and visions in general, as it pretends to
do. It is quite true that stories of miracles par-
take of the character of an imaginative age, and
are tinctured by the character of particular nations,
yet this is no reason for supposing them, to be un-
true, for individuals partake of the tone of the age
and country in which they live, and it is out of the
characters of His saints that God produces the
wonders which He operates in His church. The
human side of events is by no means incompatible
with the divine. The inspiration which puts into
the heart of a Saint to work a miracle, by no means
excludes his will and his temper ; his angelic charity
is employed in healing the sick miraculously, as in
dressing their wounds or in soothing their sorrows.
The undaunted energy, and even the roughness
and quaintness of his character, may come out in the
midst of the supernatural power imparted to him.
And with respect to visions in particular, there
seems no reason why the devotion of a saint should
not in a certain sense produce a vision, just as
grace implies our habits, and predestination our
efforts. And yet, though the intense contempla-
tion of one who is pure in heart may pierce through
the veil and see the saints and angels before the
throne, this does not exclude the agency of God,
whose workmanship we are, though we work out
our own salvation. It is a wide-spread error by
which men suppose that when they have classified
all that they know of a subject, they have got to
the bottom of the whole matter, and have a right
to exclude whatever does not necessarily come

INTRODUCTION 387

within their system, even though it may not be
incompatible with it. They think that they have
discovered all that is to be known, when they have
but found out the formal cause, that is, when they
have analysed their own idea, forgetting that the
real cause still remains as far off from them as
ever. Some philosophers have argued, that because
the idea of God in the human mind is the creation
of the soul of man, imagining to itself the supreme
good, therefore God Himself is nothing more than
the ideal standard of good dwelling naturally within
us. But such men forget that, although the thought
of God may come into the heart of man by a natural
process, this is not incompatible with the fact of
His existence as our Everlasting Creator and Master.
And in like manner visions might be real, that is,
come from God, though they were ever so much
the effect of the intense devotion of the Saint.

And to carry these remarks further, in matters
of physical science it is often said that men now-
adays have no superstitious views of such pheno-
mena as earthquakes, eclipses, and thunder, because
their causes have been discovered. Now it may or
may not be superstitious to be afraid of thunder,
but to say that it is caused by electricity removes
none of those reasons for fear which affected men
in the dark ages. What is meant by a law is only
the human way of viewing in succession, what to
Almighty God, and it may be even to the angels,
is one and undivided. So it is quite true that "the
glorious God maketh the thunder," though it is also
true that electricity is the cause of it, and that it
proceeds on a natural law. So also the dark ages

388 ST. WALTHEOF AND ST. ROBERT

might be right in ascribing certain extraordinary
events to divine agency, even though men had dis-
covered, which they have not, the psychological law
on which such effects are produced. They might
be connected with the imaginativeness of the human
heart, for imagination raised by Christianity above
its natural powers becomes intense devotion.

To go to another branch of the same subject, it
is often said that what was called diabolical posses-
sion was only a natural disease called epilepsy, and
therefore had nothing to do with devils. But evil
spirits might have power over the body, and might
always act in a particular way, so as to constitute
a law. Or else they might bring to pass, in a
supernatural way, effects which also happen from
natural causes, so that exorcism may be a super-
natural power, even though natural means can in
time remove what may be done miraculously in an
instant. Again, in the present day, strange effects
of mind over matter have been discovered, and in
some cases mesmerism seems to make an approach
to what would formerly have been ascribed and
rightly to supernatural causes. But this, so far
from telling against medieval miracles, only proves
that human souls and bodies possess mysterious
powers on which the Holy Spirit may have deigned
to work, and that things are possible which men
have long denied on the score of their impossibility.
Nay, supposing that Satan could thus in certain
false systems of religion imitate some Christian
miracles by signs and wonders, it would throw no
discredit upon them. Natural philosophers have been
said to draw down lightning from heaven and to

INTRODUCTION 389

make diamonds, but they do not make the slightest
approach to the power of God, nor bridge over the
infinite gulf which divides causation from creation.
It appears, then, that to talk of the power of
imagination is nothing to the purpose, if it is meant
to show that such visions as those with which St.
Waltheof was favoured did not really come from
heaven. Imagination, translated into the language
of the Church, means devotion ; and no one can
tell how far Almighty God may have made use of
the Saint's own devotion in framing the vision before
the eyes of his soul. And what has been said on
similar subjects by great writers in the Church falls
in with this notion of the influence of the soul in
such matters. St. Augustine discusses whether the
cloven tongues of fire, seen on the first Whitsunday,
were seen in the spirit within, as though they were
without, or really without before the eyes of the
flesh. In another place, he touches upon " the power
of the soul in changing and influencing bodily
matter,"1 though, at the same time, he says, that it
cannot be called the creator of the body, who is
God alone. So also St. Thomas discusses the very
case which, as will be seen, happened to St. Waltheof,
of a child appearing at the time of the elevation of
the Host. He thus determines that what was there
seen was not the body of our Lord, but that an
effect was produced upon the eyes of the Saint, " as
though it were seen externally." "And yet," he
continues, "this had nothing to do with deception,
as in the case of magic charms, for such an appear-
ance is formed by divine influence on the eye to

1 St. Aug. de Trin. 3. 8.

390 ST. WALTHEOF AND ST. ROBERT

figure a truth — viz. to show that the body of the
Lord is really under the Sacrament ; as also Christ,
without deception, appeared to the disciples going
to Emmaus."1 Again, in an instance which brings
us close to St. Robert of Newminster, St. Godric,
who does not at first seem likely to reason on what
he saw, is recorded to have said, after seeing a vision
of a departed soul, that he saw not the soul itself,
for it was invisible, but that what he saw was a
form which signified its presence.

And if it be asked, why should these visions be
real, and alleged appearances of false gods and of
beings created by superstition be untrue ? — the answer
is, that, as has been said before, the visions in the
lives of Saints presuppose the truth of the Catholic
faith, and are real because the faith is true. We
believe Christian visions to be real because Chris-
tianity is real, and the portents of heathen mythology
are false because they are part of a false religion.
And here, as in many other respects, the analogy
between the natural and the spiritual sight is perfect ;
for all our senses, and sight among the rest, require
it to be taken for granted that the sensations which
we feel are produced by an object without us ; and
philosophers have been found who reason very
plausibly, that all that we see and touch is merely
ourselves touching and feeling, just as faithless men
argue that the visions of the Saints are mere creations
of their own minds. Substance is taken for granted
in our bodily vision, as the faith is presupposed in
supernatural visions.

And in distinguishing what are most commonly

1 Summa Theol. 3. qu. 76, 8.

INTRODUCTION 391

called legends from what is historical in the lives of
Saints, it should be borne in mind, that though the
prevalence of a certain tone, which may be called
poetical or romantic, does not throw discredit on
miracles in general ; yet it is quite true that, in
many particular instances, the strange stories in
medieval narratives are strongly tinctured by the
spirit of the age, call it poetic, superstitious, or
faithful, as you will. The proof of it is, that a love
of the marvellous evidently affects the narratives
of historians as well as hagiologists ; and this both
makes it likely that the same tone should appear
in accounts of what is confessedly supernatural, and
also shows that truth and falsehood may be blended
together without destroying each other. In the
grave chronicles of the age, most of them proceed-
ing from the lonely cell of some religious man,
accounts of marvellous portents, of bright colours
and strange figures seen in the sun and moon, are
mingled with just as much of the news of the outer
world, of the victories and defeats of kings, as was
drifted into the monastery. If it were not for the
undeniably life-like energy of the barons and kings
who make their appearance, the reader would be
tempted to put down the whole for a production
of the vivid fancy of some solitary monk, so much
does the whole scene savour of the romantic. Some-
times the list of portents reminds us of the marvels
which appear in the pages of Livy. Even the
shrewd William of Newbridge, though by no means
without his tinge of private judgment, is overcome
by his love of the marvellous, and some accounts
very like fairy tales appear in the midst of his facts.

392 ST. WALTHEOF AND ST. ROBERT

As a specimen of his narrations, in one place, among
many other marvels, it is said that near Winchester
some quarrymen found embedded in stone a live
toad, with a gold chain and collar round his neck.
In the same way, at a time when men were not
given to patient investigation on any point, it is not
wonderful that the lives of Saints should present
manifold exaggerations, and that the convent tradi-
tions should in some cases grow, like any other
narratives. The objections commonly urged that
man is liable to error, and that inspiration alone is
infallible, are in place here, however senseless they
may be when they would sap the foundations of all
history, by rejecting any amount of evidence. There
is a good substratum of truth in the medieval lives
of Saints, which will stand the attack of any philo-
sophy which would reduce them to the state of
myths ; while at the same time the busy, romantic
element of the human heart has naturally exercised
itself on Christian Saints as it did on the champions
of Christendom in the Holy Land. Evidence, in-
ternal and external, must be the criterion here, as
in every other kind of history.

These remarks are the more apposite, because
there are instances in Josceline's life of St. Waltheof
which will illustrate what is meant. One of them
is as follows : On a certain day, when one of the
canons of Kirkham was celebrating mass in the
presence of St. Waltheof, a spider fell into the sacred
chalice about the time that the words Agnus Dei
are sung ; the celebrant, not knowing what to do,
managed to attract St. Waltheofs attention, and
asked him what course ought to be taken. He

INTRODUCTION 393

could not drink the contents of the chalice, because
the spider was a poisonous insect, and he could
not take it out for fear of profanation. St. Waltheof,
making a short prayer and signing the chalice with
the cross, bade the canon boldly drink, in the Lord's
name. Then Josceline, after detailing his admira-
tion that the canon received no hurt, goes on to
say : " When dinner was over and the canons were
sitting in the cloister, the priest who had celebrated
mass sat rubbing his finger, and after a short time
a lump appeared on it, and lo ! the spider, breaking
the skin, came out alive, to the wonder of all who
were sitting round, and by the command of the
prior was committed to the flames. Now there is
no reason to doubt that the spider did fall into the
chalice, and that the canon felt the difficulty and
drank its contents, for spiders were then believed
to be poisonous. As for the story of the reappear-
ance of the insect, as the whole goes on the assump-
tion that spiders are poisonous, and that there was
a miracle in the case, it may fairly be concluded
to be an excrescence on the original story, and that
it had been appended to it in conventual tradition,
just as any other narrative "vires acquirit eundo."
It, however, no more implies fraud, than the addition
of this gold chain and collar to the neck of the
unfortunate toad, which, doubtless, was found in the
quarry near Winchester. Many more instances
might be taken from this source, but enough has
been said to show how truth and fiction may lie
together, blended in the same narrative. If it be
impossible to separate them, that is a reason either
for neglecting the whole, or for receiving the whole.

394 ST. WALTHEOF AND ST. ROBERT

Religious minds would probably take the latter
alternative, not thinking it after all so very great
a misfortune to believe a few miracles too much.
They would rather venture a little than lose one
record of God's dealings with His Saints. However,
we do not believe it to be in all cases impossible
to make the separation. In the present instance,
some attempt has been made to do so. Josceline,
the monk of Furness, who is the author of the life
in the Bollandists, wrote about sixty years after the
death of St. Waltheof. He professes to draw his
narrative from some aged monks of the abbey of
Melrose. It seemed therefore lawful to give as
much of his narrative as would be interesting, with-
out relating every circumstance which it contains.1

In conclusion, it will be well to see in what light
such visions and miracles as are here related are
considered by spiritual writers in the Catholic Church,
that it may be seen how far they are from laying
stress upon them, though they will not faithlessly
set limits to God's grace in His dealings with His
saints. "There are some," says an author whom
most men would call foolishly credulous,2 "whom
the devil deceives ; but there are others, too, who
are deceived by the weakness of their imagination,
fancying that they see and hear extraordinary ob-
jects and voices, though in effect they see and hear
nothing. There are some also who not only are

1 The precise date of his work cannot now be easily ascertained. It
appears that he began it at the request of Patrick, Abbot of Melrose,
and finished it after his death. Patrick succeeded William as Abbot
in 1206, and died the year after. Josceline, therefore, probably
finished his work shortly after 1207.

2 Boudon, L 'Amour de Dieu seul ; discours preliminaire.

INTRODUCTION 395

deceived by the devil, or by themselves, but seek to
deceive others by voluntary and diabolical wicked-
ness. So we repeat what we have said ; we must
be on our guard, not easily to put faith in extra-
ordinary things. Spiritual directors should take care
to guide souls put under them in the ways of pure
faith, which is the immediate union of the soul with
God. This is the teaching of the great doctor of
mystical theology, the blessed John of the Cross ; he
gives it as a rule in his books, that such things as
visions and revelations should be left to the judgment
of God, and that we should remain in quiet faith,
without dwelling upon them. This teaching shields
us from all illusions of the devil ; for by resting in
pure faith, a man cannot err. He walks by a sure
path, and the light which guides him is infallible ;
besides which, since these unmerited graces which
God gives us, such as visions and revelations, come
externally to us, and are independent of us, we
therefore are safe in not examining them. I do not
mean that directors should not make use of such
marks as holy doctors have given us to discern the
true Spirit of God in such extraordinary things from
the evil spirit ; but I mean that, after all, we must
suspend our judgment, and lay no great stress on
such things, and lean entirely on faith. With re-
spect to those persons who are the subjects of such
extraordinary occurrences, they should not let their
minds dwell upon them at all, but leave them to
the judgment of God, whatever value they may
have in His sight. Thus, if they are the work of
the devil, he will be confounded ; if they come from
the Holy Spirit, He will increase His blessings."

LIFE OF
ST. WALTHEOF

THE lives of the Saints of the middle ages are like
the ruins of their own monasteries, lovely and
melancholy fragments, which are but indications of
a beauty which has passed away from the earth.
Not indeed as though the Church were dead, and
there were no Saints now in Christendom, but a
Saint of the nineteenth century will never be pre-
cisely like one of the twelfth. The beautiful infancy
and youth of Christianity are past, and even Saints
may partake something of the acuteness and activity
of the age with which they have to contend. If
Melrose could be roofed afresh, and the vaulted
ceiling restored, the painted glass replaced in the
east oriel, and the niches filled again, it would
certainly not be a facsimile of the Melrose of six
hundred years ago. But the building would not
be so unlike its predecessor as the new members
would differ from their brethren of old, though
they wore the same habit and kept the same rule.
But it is wrong to mourn over what must be ; and
perhaps the new brethren would in some respects
surpass the old. So we must just take Melrose as

396

ST. WALTHEOF 397

it is, a beautiful ruin ; and we will try to write the
life of its holy Abbot Waltheof, imperfect as the
attempt must be. We will do our best to put into
shape the scanty records left by brother Josceline,
just as a man standing on the Eildon Hill on an
autumn evening would fill up the outline formed
against the glowing sky by the ruined abbey.

I. HOW WALTHEOF LIVED IN THE WORLD

There are some persons who, from their birth,
appear destined to take part in the roughest scenes
of the world's politics, and to this class Waltheof
seemed to belong. He was apparently born to
inherit the strongest prejudices, and to be placed
amidst conflicting interests, in which he was un-
avoidably to take his part. He was of one of the
most illustrious families of England, descended from
the old kings and earls of Northumbria, from Ida,
the bearer of flame, and from Siward, who had
defeated the tyrant Macbeth, and set Malcolm
Canmore on the throne. His grandfather, whose
name he bore, was that Waltheof whom the Con-
queror had first, as he thought, won to himself, by
bestowing on him the hand of his niece Judith,
but whom he had afterwards ruthlessly beheaded at
Winchester. His body was taken to the Abbey of
Croyland, where the affectionate remembrance of
the poor Saxon canonised the victim of the Con-
queror's revenge, and pilgrims often knelt at the
tomb of the English martyr. The daughter of this
Waltheof, Matilda, was given in marriage to Simon

398 ST. WALTHEOF

of St. Liz, a Norman noble, as if to obliterate the
remembrance of her Saxon blood ; and of this union
were born two children, Simon and Waltheof. Not
long after their birth, their father incurred the dis-
pleasure of Henry I., and he assumed the cross and
went to the Holy Land. He left England, never
to return ; news soon came to his wife that she
was a widow, for her husband had perished as a
good soldier of the Cross in Palestine. Matilda
was still young when this happened, and her cousin,
King Henry, afterwards gave her in marriage to
David of Scotland, and with her bestowed on him
the possessions of her first husband. When David
inherited the throne of Scotland, his step - sons
followed him, and were brought up in the palace
of Dunfermline with his own children.

The course of Waltheof's life seemed thus to be
marked out for him : he was to be a staunch de-
fender of the Saxon line, and a hater of the
Normans, who had slain his grandfather and caused
the exile of his father ; and he was to be a staunch
partisan of the succession of the Empress Matilda.
But there are men who apparently come across their
destiny — some for good, and others for bad — and
of these was Waltheof. It was evident, however,
from his infancy, that he was not made for the
world which was moving around him. Their
mother, Matilda, used to smile at the contrast be-
tween her two boys, when they were mere children,
playing at her feet. While Simon, the elder, the
future earl and warrior, was building castles of wood
and charging, at a mock tournament, astride on a
cane, Waltheof would be raising churches of sticks

ST. WALTHEOF 399

and pebbles, making the sign of the Cross like a
priest, and imitating the chants which he had heard
in church. As he advanced in years he seemed
hardly to change, so naturally and evenly did his
character grow in strength and beauty, without
losing its childlike freshness. It was, as says the
Scripture, the righteous man blossoming as the
lily. When he came to David's court, he showed
the same purity and the same unearthly character;
and so little did he seem to belong to the scenes
which were passing about him, that the nobles of
Scotland did not know what to make of him ; and
he puzzled them the more, from the striking differ-
ence between him and his two companions, Prince
Henry and Aelred. The high-spirited Henry was
an indefatigable hunter, and marked out for a
soldier from his birth ; and even Aelred, who, from
his bookish propensities might be classified with
Waltheof, still showed some marked differences
from his friend : he was more easily understood,
from his frank and sociable temper. But Waltheof,
without any appearance of moroseness, was fond
of solitude; he had but few friends, while Aelred
had many. Again, Aelred was very cheerful, and
took interest in all about him ; but Waltheof might
have seemed apathetic. Though none could look
on his bright countenance and think him gloomy,
yet it was evident that the scenes which passed
around him affected him but little : he was an
unworldly character, and such always are incom-
prehensible to men of the world. King David alone
saw through his step-son ; he used to take Waltheof
with him into the noble forests which surrounded

400 ST. WALTHEOF

Dunfermline to hunt the wild deer ; and would
give him his bow to carry, in order to keep him near
himself. But the young lord soon grew weary of
the chase, and giving up the care of the king's bow
to some one else, he used to plunge deep into the
woods ; and finding a level spot of green sward
under the shade of some broad oak, he would read
a book or kneel down to pray. One day David,
who used to wonder at his periodical disappearance,
came upon him in his retirement, and though the
whole chase swept rapidly past him, David's quick
eye had time to spy him out in his hiding-place ;
and when he came home, he said to his queen,
" That son of thine is not of our stamp ; he is nothing
to the world, nor the world to him ; depend upon
it, he will either die young, or else fly away to the
cloister."

The nobles about the court, however, did not take
this view, and Waltheof still remained a mystery to
them. They even made experiments upon him, as
philosophers would on some strange phenomenon.
As far as they durst, by covert insinuations, they
put evil before him, but his imperturbable simplicity
baffled them. Waltheof probably did not know him-
self any more than they. It often happens that
those whom God is leading on to perfection, are
unconscious of the end to which they are tending.
Those about them often think them incapable of
anything very great, and they themselves have
often not made up their mind what course of life
is to be theirs. The notion of choice does not
come before them, till something external forces
them to election, and they choose at once the better

ST. WALTHEOF 401

part. So in the case of Waltheof, an event occurred
which opened the eyes of all parties, both his own
and those of the nobles, who were looking on to
see how this would end. A young and noble lady
fell in love with Waltheof, and the courtiers used
with delight to watch them speaking together, hoping
that at last the lord Waltheof was becoming like his
neighbours, and was human after all. Soon after,
some one spied glittering on Waltheof s ringer a gold
ring with a sparkling gem, which the lady had given
him. The news soon spread that he was in a fair
way of being a confessed lover ; there was joy in
the gay circles of the court that day, for they
thought that Waltheof had fallen from his high
estate, and had thus become like an ordinary mortal.
They were, however, mistaken, for when this report
reached him, it opened his eyes at once to his
situation. He must either make up his mind to
marry or to go into religion. The children of this
world are in their generation wiser than the children
of light, and they taught Waltheof a lesson, that
such attachments are dangerous. There can be
no half measures, and the crucifixion must be com-
plete. So Waltheof took the shining jewel off his
finger and threw it into the fire. From that
moment, he looked upon himself as destined for the
priesthood.

2. HOW WALTHEOF QUITTED THE WORLD

He was now considered as certain of a bishoprick
either in England or Scotland ; and when the King
of Scotland was his step-father, and the King of

VOL. v. 2 C

402 ST. WALTHEOF

England his mother's cousin, it was no unreasonable
conjecture. Waltheof, had, however, by no means
the same views for himself; his only wish was to
serve God in the lowest station in His Church. While
he was revolving these thoughts in his mind, Aelred
announced his intention of becoming a monk and
of quitting Scotland. It seemed much less likely
that the gay and open-hearted Aelred should be
the first to go, but so it was ; l and Waltheof must
have felt very solitary, when the only friend who
understood his feelings and character had gone into
religion and had left him in the world. He was
not one who could make new friends in a day,
and he had still some time to remain in solitude
after Aelred had left him. He found more external
obstacles than Aelred had met with, in his way from
the world to the cloister. He was an important
political personage ; and in times when the north
of England was a debatable ground, it was of the
utmost consequence to put the great sees into the
hands of friendly churchmen, as not long after
Henry II. saw when he created the bishoprick of
Carlisle to counteract the see of Glasgow. Waltheof,
as David's step-son, would have been a more re-
spectable personage to fill St. Cuthbert's chair than
William Comyn, who was put in by Matilda's
party. He was not therefore his own master. His
brother Simon, too, whose warlike propensities made
him look upon his brother's love for the cloister as
fanaticism, had early in Stephen's reign become

1 Waltheof did not leave Scotland till his brother was an earl — i.e.
probably not till Stephen's reign.

ST. WALTHEOF 403

Earl of Northampton ; 1 and he as well as King
David opposed Waltheofs wish. At length he
stole away from David's court, and took refuge in
Yorkshire, at a priory of Austin canons, dedicated
to St. Oswald, one of the ancestors of his family.
Here Waltheof hoped that the world would forget
him. " Here," says brother Josceline, " he deter-
mined to lie hid and die, as, says the blessed Job,
in his little nest ; and to grow up noiselessly as
a palm-tree, hidden from the provoking of all men
in the secret place of God's countenance, forgotten
by all his kith and kin, like a useless vessel flung
aside, like a dead man in the hearts of his friends."
Such was Waltheofs wish. " But the Lord of all,"
continues Josceline, "had decreed far otherwise."
First of all, he was made sacristan of St. Oswald's,
and then the canons of Kirkham chose him for
their prior. And here at last he seemed to have
obtained the rest for which his soul longed ; and
indeed many men might envy him the place in
which his lot was cast It was in a beautiful valley
in Yorkshire, not far from the spot where the waters
of the Rye, after passing under the walls of the
abbey of Rievaux, joined the broader stream of
the Derwent. He was therefore now a near neigh-
bour to Aelred ; the abbey and the priory had a
common founder, and their possessions touched
each other, and the monks had frequent intercourse
with the canons. Among their visitors at some
time or other was certainly Aelred, for he mentions

1 v. Knyghton ap. Twysden, 2386, and Brompton, 1030. Brompton
says, Earl of Huntingdon, p. 975, which he was not till afterwards,
as appears from John of Hexham, p. 258.

404 ST. WALTHEOF

Kirkham, and calls it a most lovely spot. His
friends in Scotland evidently bore no ill-will to
him for his flight from them, for his half-brother,
Prince Henry, loved Kirkham for its prior's sake,
and bestowed many lands upon it. His canons, too,
loved Waltheof for all his virtues, but specially for
his humility ; for he did not rule over them with a
high hand, but treated them as brethren.

He might have quitted them, if he had pleased,
for a much higher station. In 1140, Thurstan,
archbishop of York, died, and there were great
deliberations in the court of Westminster. The
question was, who would make a respectable arch-
bishop, and at the same time a good partisan of
King Stephen. From Waltheofs noble birth and
reputation for sanctity, he would have been an
obvious person to fix upon ; and though, from his
connection with King David, he was not at first
sight likely to fulfil Stephen's conditions, yet it
seems that his brother Simon had taken the side
of the king against Matilda, so that there were
hopes that he might follow his example. Many
nobles urged Stephen to appoint him, but the
king was afraid of him. With all Waltheofs
sweetness and humility, there was a certain un-
manageable element in his character which did not
suit Stephen. It is a dangerous experiment to
place on an episcopal throne a man who could
neither be bribed nor frightened. In fact, what
could Waltheof be bribed with? He had already
given up everything on earth. He had no earthly
wishes ; so what could be done with such a man ?
Again, if he did wish for anything, it was to suffer

ST. WALTHEOF 405

humiliation with his Lord ; force, therefore, would
have been equally unavailing. So, on the whole,
King Stephen thought that Waltheof was not the
man to be Archbishop of York. All this while
the Prior of Kirkham was very quietly in the wilds
of Yorkshire, utterly ignorant that he was the
subject of grave deliberation in high places, till
one day he received intimation that the puissant
Earl of Albemarle1 had arrived at Kirkham, and
wished to see him. After some conversation, the
noble earl said, " How long dost thou mean to
bring dishonour on our house, by burying thyself
in this dungeon of a cloister? Why not show thy-
self in public oftener? If thou wouldest but take
the trouble to gain the favour of the king and his
counsellors by gifts and promises, thou wouldest
win any bishoprick thou mightest affect. If thou
wilt but promise to give me the township of
Shirburn, to be held by me during my lifetime,
I will undertake to get thee the archbishoprick
of York." His lordship of Albemarle certainly
knew very little with what sort of man he had
to deal ; he was therefore, probably, not a little
surprised to see the pale cheek of the gentle
monk suffused with red, and his eye kindle for a
moment with something like anger. It, however,
passed away as quickly as it came ; and Waltheof
calmly said, " Be thou quite sure that thou wilt
never see me seated in a bishop's throne, nor

1 William, this Earl of Albemarle, was son of Stephen, who was the
brother of Judith, St. Waltheof's grandmother. Stephen and Judith
were the children of Odo, Earl of Albemarle, by Adeliza, sister of the
Conqueror. William was first cousin to St. Waltheof's mother.

406 ST. WALTHEOF

thyself in possession of the township of Shir-
burn."

It was not, however, surprising that a worldly-
minded man, like the earl, should not be able to
penetrate the depth of Waltheof's character. It
would have been a hard matter for any one who
saw the lowly prior abasing himself beneath the
lowest lay - brother of the community, to tell how
highly favoured was this humble soul. It would
have been difficult to suppose that this humble
man, who busied himself so noiselessly and regularly
with the rule of his convent, and threw his mind
into all the wants and desires of his brethren, was
all the while wrapped up in the contemplation of
heavenly things, in a way which none but those
who are dead to earth can know. Sometimes
our blessed Lord would, as it were, break through
the cloud ; and as after His resurrection He would
appear suddenly in the midst of His disciples, so
now and then in Waltheofs life, He all at once
converted contemplation into vision, and gave His
servant sensible indications of His presence. One
of these visions appears to have occurred at Kirk-
ham. One Christmas - day, while the convent was
celebrating the Nativity of the Lord, as the Prior
was elevating the Host, in the blessed sacrifice
of the mass, he saw in his hands a child fairer
than the children of men, having on his head
a crown of gold, studded with jewels. His eyes
beamed with light, and his face was more radiant
than the whitest snow ; and so ineffably sweet
was his countenance, that the prior kissed the
feet and the hands of the heavenly child. After

ST. WALTHEOF 407

this the divine vision disappeared, and Waltheof
found in his hands the consecrated wafer.

The servants of Christ are, however, never suffered
by Him to dwell on the joys which He vouchsafes
to give them. When the Apostles were, after our
Lord's ascension, straining their eyes to penetrate
the cloud which carried Him out of their sight,
two angels appeared, to ask them why they
stood gazing up into heaven. So the vision which
Waltheof saw was but for a moment, or rather
it hardly could be measured by time at all ; and
when it disappeared, and he came down from the
altar and went back into the monastery to set
about his business, all looked as it did before.
The cloisters echoed to his footsteps as if nothing
had happened, and the canons, bowing in silence
to their prior as they passed him, reminded him
that he must go on with his work. And sad
work he soon had upon his hands ; that same
archbishoprick of York which he had rejected was
now a bone of contention in the north ; and news
arrived at Kirkham that William, the treasurer,
Stephen's nephew, had been elected, but that the
presence of the Earl of York at the election made
men suspect that undue influence had been exerted,
if not by William, at least by his friends. William's
character was not such as to please Waltheof's
Cistercian friends ; he was amiable indeed, and
none accused him of immorality ; but he was at
that time indolent and magnificent. They were
unsparing in their censures, these Cistercian monks ;
popes, cardinals, and bishops equally came under
their lash, and in this case they determined to

408 ST. WALTHEOF

oppose William's election as being uncanonical.
Waltheof was already a Cistercian in heart, and
he joined himself to his neighbours, William, abbot
of Rievaux, and Richard, abbot of Fountains, in their
efforts to obtain a sentence against the election.
The parties in opposition to each other in the
diocese of York were, on the whole, regulars
against seculars, that is, at least in this case,
strictness against laxity ; and Waltheof did not
hesitate which side to choose. In 1 142 he appealed
against the election with the abbots of Fountains
and of Rievaux, and others of the regular as well
as some of the cathedral clergy. In 1144 we find
him at Rome with his colleagues in the appeal.
No particulars appear of his journey across the
Alps ; but doubtless the tombs of the Apostles saw
more of Waltheof than the papal court. How
they sped in their cause has been too well nar-
rated elsewhere to require notice in this place ;
besides which, it has little to do with Waltheofs
history. He brought back to Kirkham a heart
not a whit more in love with the great world on
account of the glimpse which he had seen of it.
All that he had seen on his way to and from the
great city remained on his mind like a bewildered
dream ; and neither the snowy Alps, nor the blue
lakes and sunny sky of Italy, seemed to him half so
beautiful as the rugged outline of the Blackmoor hills,
and the first sight of the green banks of the winding
Derwent and the tower of his own church at Kirkham,
from which the bells were ringing to welcome his
arrival ; and the brethren issuing out of the church
with cross and banner to meet their prior.

ST. WALTHEOF 409

3. HOW WALTHEOF BECAME A MONK

The poor brethren of Kirkham were, however,
soon to lose him. Was it restlessness, this desire
of quitting his station at Kirkham that arose within
him, or was it a longing for obedience, and for giving
up his will for that of a superior ? A great struggle
went on in his heart ; for, says brother Josceline,
" There increased every day in his heart the hatred
of worldly pomp and the desire of his heavenly
country, and he was bent on embracing a stricter
order. Such was the continued wish of his heart ;
but he still pondered over it, weighing with discre-
tion the arguments for and against it. He desired
instead of a canon to become a monk, and above
all a monk of the Cistercian order, which seemed
to him stricter and more austere than that of the
canons of St. Austin. Still, as he used to tell of
himself, he feared lest his weakness should sink
under such a burden. He often prayed to the
Angel of great counsel that He would illumine and
strengthen his spirit with the Spirit of counsel and
of might, that he might choose with wise counsel,
and hold fast with might whatever was best for the
health of his soul. He feared lest perchance an
angel of Satan, who often transforms himself into
an angel of light, should be giving him poison to
drink out of a golden cup. As, however, after
patient waiting and long trial, his heart continued
still firm and unmoved as a pillar ; he felt that the
Lord had visited him, and had drawn him on to
conceive this design in his heart." He would not,

410 ST. WALTHEOF

however, trust his own view of the case, and so he
bethought himself of an old friend of his, whom he
was now to meet in a new capacity. William, his
companion in his journey to Rome, had died, and
Aelred, his playmate and the friend of his youth in
the court of Scotland, had succeeded as Abbot. So
Waltheof went along the banks of the Derwent,
then up the beautiful valley of the Rye to Rievaux,
where we may well imagine that he was a welcome
guest, and not the less so when he stated the pur-
pose of his visit. The result of it was that Aelred
decided that Waltheof might quit Kirkham. He
did not, however, claim him for Rievaux, else his
decision might appear interested. The two friends
probably thought it would be too great happiness
to be together in the same monastery. So the matter
was compromised by Waltheofs flying away from
his priory to the abbey of Wardon, in Bedfordshire,
which was a colony from Rievaux, and also founded
by William d'Espec.

Waltheof sought the cloister of Wardon to obtain
peace, but ^instead of rinding what he wanted, he
only raised about his head a storm on which he
had not calculated. First, the canons of Kirkham
did their best to recall him ; they even had recourse
to ecclesiastical tribunals to force him to return ; but
they were unable to effect their purpose. After this,
however, a greater trial awaited him. He had also
placed himself very nearly within the limits of his
brother's earldom. Now Simon by no means ap-
preciated Waltheofs love of humiliation. On the
contrary, he considered it a dishonour to the noble
blood of the old kings of Northumberland that a

ST. WALTHEOF . 411

scion of their stock should be a novice in a poor
Cistercian monastery. A mitred abbacy he would
not have quarrelled with, but that his brother should
be the lowest monk in a low convent was intolerable ;
and he sent a message to the brethren of Warden
that he would burn the abbey over their heads if
they allowed his brother to remain amongst them.
The poor monks trembled, for they well knew Simon
was a man to keep his word, and amidst the general
license of the period, burning an abbey was not so
very rare as to make it remarkable. Waltheof,
therefore, was again a fugitive, cast out on the
wide world by his own mother's son. But our
Lord has promised to give us an hundred fold that
which we give up for His sake ; and so when Wal-
theofs own brother turned against him, Aelred,
who was more to him than his unnatural brother,
was given back to him. The monks of Wardon,
when they found themselves obliged to send their
novice away, transferred him to Rievaux, where he
was out of the reach of his brother.

Henceforth Waltheof s external trials are over ;
yet our Lord, who never will leave His Saints to
be without the cross, now prepared for him an
interior trial, which was harder to bear than any
other. Hitherto he had walked in the light of
God's countenance in spiritual joy ; but now the
countenance of the Lord no longer shone upon
him, and there had succeeded a cold and dreary
state of darkness, in which he seemed to have lost
sight of the object of his faith. He felt neither joy
nor sorrow ; he had no feeling at all. When he
thought on the Passion, he did not weep ; and when

412 ST. WALTHEOF

he meditated on the Resurrection, there was the same
dull blank in his soul. Formerly, fasts and vigils,
and bodily suffering of all sorts, were a joy to him,
because they were a means of partaking in the
crucifixion of his Lord ; but now all the various
actions of his monastic life were gone through
mechanically, as a daily task. The doctrines of
the Mirror of Chanty were exactly suited to his
case ; but, as generally happens in such temptations,
he fancied that his state had something peculiar in
it, which exactly excepted it from the consolations
which Aelred held out. He thought that he had
done wrong in leaving his priory, and he was sorely
tempted to quit the Cistercian order before he finally
took the vows. The devil, who knows well that
obedience and patience are the proper means of
escaping, in God's own time, from such spiritual
depression as then weighed down his heart, was
anxious to make him by a definite act break away
from Rievaux, and take the law in his own hands.
But it is best to give the whole in Josceline's words :
— " When Waltheof had spent some time in the cell
of the novices, by a temptation of the Evil one, the
observance of the rule became loathsome to him ;
the food appeared to him tasteless, the clothing
rough and vile, the manual labour hard, the psalms
and night-watches wearisome, the whole course of
the order too austere. When he thought on the
former years which he had spent as a prior, it
grew upon him that the rule of the canons, though
less austere, was more in accordance with Christian
discretion, and more fit for the saving of souls. As
soon, however, as he felt this suggestion creep into

ST. WALTHEOF 413

his heart, he sought, in constant and earnest prayer,
an antidote for its poison. After, however, the
temptation, far from diminishing, had only increased,
so that he debated whether he should quit the
Cistercian order and go back to his canons, he was
at length relieved by the Lord, and blushed at his
own weakness. For, one day after the bell had
sounded for the office, at one of the canonical hours,
and all the novices had gone out in seemly order,
he alone remained behind in the cell. Led by the
impulse of the Spirit, he threw himself across the
threshold, half in and half out of the cell, and pray-
ing, with many tears, he said, ' O God Almighty,
Creator of all, who knowest and dispensest all
things, whether it be thy good pleasure that I
remain a monk, or that I become again a canon
shew me, O Lord ; and take away from me this
temptation which afflicts my soul.' And our Lord
heard his prayer, and soon, almost without feeling,
the mourner felt ' the dull hard stone within him '
disappear. He never knew what happened to
him in that hour, or how it happened, but he felt
himself raised off the ground, and found himself
in the seat which belonged to him in the cell, and
where he used to read and meditate. Nothing can
express so well what he then felt as the words of
an English poet, whom we have almost uncon-
sciously quoted : —

These are thy wonders, hourly wrought,

Thou Lord of time and thought,
Lifting and lowering souls at will,
Crowding a world of good or ill

414 ST. WALTHEOF

Into a moment's vision ; even as light
Mounts o'er a cloudy ridge, and all is bright,
From west to east, one thrilling ray
Turning a wintry world to May.

Waltheof never felt the temptation after this ; and
in due course, at the end of the year, he received
the white habit at the hands of Aelred. Great
must have been the joy of both in that hour when
Aelred put the habit upon his friend with the usual
words, " The Lord put off thee the old man with his
deeds/' and the convent responded, " Amen."

4. HOW WALTHEOF BECAME AN ABBOT

Waltheof and Aelred had been, as it were, drifted
together for a little time, probably that Waltheof
might be strengthened for the work which was now
before him. This was the reason that the tempta-
tion above-mentioned was sent to him, according to
brother Josceline. " By a wondrous providence," he
says, "our God, in His wondrous mercy, permitted
him whom He destined for the government of souls
to be tried by this temptation, for the increase of
his crown, and that by his own experience he might
have compassion on others." And he proceeds to
tell us what was this government of souls. In the
year 1147, the monks of Melrose elected him their
Abbot, and sent to Rievaux to beg of Aelred to
give him permission to accept the office. Again,
therefore, the two friends were separated, though not
for ever, for the abbot of Rievaux was the regular
visitor of the community of Melrose. It was Wai-

ST. WALTHEOF 415

theof's lot to win back all his old friends in the
course of his life ; after many years, he now found
again his step-father King David, and his brother
Prince Henry. How his whole former life must
have rushed upon him as he re-crossed the border,
after so many years of monastic trials ! His life, as
a courtier in Scotland, must have appeared a very
point in his existence, and the adventure of the
ring and the lady at that distance almost ludicrous.
When he reached his abbey, he found himself lord
of an extensive domain ; for though the abbot of
Melrose was not the mitred prelate that he after-
wards became, yet the whole countryside was in his
hands. The people had been all but converted by
St. Cuthbert, as prior of the monastery ; and King
David had endowed the community with extensive
lands, so that the abbot of Melrose, by a double
title, was spiritual and temporal lord of a large
part of Tweeddale. Waltheof found his abbey in
a delicate state. Richard, the first abbot of New
Melrose, had just been deposed for harsh conduct
towards the monks ; the new abbot had, therefore,
to recover the authority lost by his predecessor,
without irritating the brethren, who, of course, were
exceedingly sensitive to any exertion of discipline
on the part of their spiritual ruler.

As Melrose was, in point of fact, a new abbey,
this state of things might have ruined it. The
abbey had seen strange vicissitudes : first, it had
come under St. Columban's rule,1 with all its minute

1 Mr. Michelet thinks that St. Columban's rule differed from that
of St. Benedict, in that it was mystical to such an extent as to make
light of the grossest sins of the flesh. If he had construed the passage

416 ST. WALTHEOF

and severe penances, and its uncompromising sever-
ity. It seems hard to say precisely when it became
Benedictine, for the rules of St. Columban and of
St. Benedict were not so far opposed to each other
that they were incapable of existing side by side.
Some communities observed both together, till at
length St. Benedict's rule got the day, as being the
wisest legislation for monks, considering the average
capabilities of man. While St. Columban's monks
fasted every day till evening, St. Benedict varied
the hour at different times of the year. Again,
there is a special provision for difference of climate
in the Benedictine habit, which is not the case in
that of St. Columban. On the whole, the Bene-
dictine rule was found on experience the better.
It was framed in that mild Italian spirit which
was needed to temper the fierceness of our northern
blood ; and probably the rejection of the Scottish
usages about Easter, and the Benedictine rule, came
hand-in-hand into Melrose. Certainly St. Cuthbert,
who was himself a convert from the Scottish mode
of keeping Easter, was also the first to introduce
St. Benedict's rule into Lindisfarne. This is bring-
ing the matter very near Melrose, and seems to
point to him as the person under whom the abbey
first became Benedictine. In the time of Waltheof s

on which he founds his opinion, he would have seen that it has no
reference to actual guilt, but was a provision to exclude the very sus-
picion of it. Si quis monachus dormierit in una domo cum muliere,
duos dies in pane et aqua. What he translates, S'il ignorait que ce
fut une faute, means Si nescierit mulierem esse in domo. It would
be invidious to point out a blunder however gross in so long and so
able a history, if so monstrous a conclusion had not been founded upon
it. — Histoire de France, torn. i. 277.

ST. WALTHEOF 417

predecessor it underwent another change, for King
David had made it Cistercian, and put it under
the jurisdiction of Rievaux. The convent seems to
have been entirely removed from its old spot, for,
about half-a-mile from the present ruins of the
abbey, is a place which tradition assigns as the site
of old Melrose, on a promontory, stretching so far
into the Tweed that the waters all but convert it
into an island. The convent did not at first flour-
ish in its new locality, owing to the harshness of
abbot Richard, and perhaps to the impatience of
the community under their new rule. The monks
were very anxious to get rid of their abbot, but
they were afraid to take any steps to get him
deposed, as he was an intimate friend of the king.
At last, they hit upon the expedient of electing
Waltheof in his room. This effectually disarmed
David's anger, and Waltheof was joyfully welcomed
by him back to his dominions.

Waltheof thus found himself again a man in
authority. During the rest of his life he was now
to be everything for other people, and nothing for
himself. Of the many years which he spent at
Melrose but little is known ; how they passed, how-
ever, we may judge by the kind of idea which was
still preserved of him in the abbey at the time when
Josceline wrote his life. Every tradition points to
the paternal kindness and sweetness of his rule.
The old monks still told of him, that when a monk,
who had fallen into a grievous fault, had once con-
fessed it publicly and done penance, he would always
punish severely any one who reproached the offender,
or made any allusion to his fault. "Often he had

VOL. V. 2 D

418 ST. WALTHEOF

in his mouth," says Josceline, "that saying of the
blessed Hugh of Cluny, * If either happened to me,
I would rather be punished for showing too much
mercy, than for too much severity.' In the secret
of the confessional, he showed himself so mild and
soothing a physician, that, however stubborn was the
breast of the sinner, the droppings of his words of
holy consolation would soften it to a true and fruit-
ful penitence ; and, by smiting it with the rod of
the Lord's Cross, he would cleave the hard rock, till
it burst forth into a fount of tears ; and then, when
he saw him weep, tears of compassion used to
flow from his eyes." A tradition still remained of
the beauty of his countenance ; and it was said
that, notwithstanding his austerities, his face had
still a delicate colour in the midst of its paleness.
Besides this, the earnestness of his preaching was
remembered, as well as his eloquent and lucid
speech, whether he spoke in French, English, or
Latin, of all which languages he was perfect master.
With these qualities and acquirements, it is not
wonderful that he should be said to have gained
an immediate influence on all who came in his way,
by his persuasive words and kindness of manner.
And this overflowing love extended itself even to
animals. Stories were told of his affection for the
old grey horse which he constantly rode, and which
he used playfully to call his brother Grizzle.1 He
was even known to punish himself severely with
the discipline used in the order for having killed
an insect, saying that he had taken away the life
of a creature of God, which he could not restore.
1 Frater Ferrandus, v. Ducange in voc.

ST. WALTHEOF 419

It was, however, not only within the walls of the
abbey that his kindness of heart was known. The
abbot of Melrose, as head of the Cistercian order in
Scotland, was not a man who could always remain
within the cloisters of his monastery. He had to
go up into the Highlands as far as Elgin to found
the abbey of Kinloss ; and at another time down
among the Cumberland hills, to lead a colony from
Melrose to Holmcultram. In his time, too, an abbey
was projected by his half-brother, Prince Henry, and
the site was fixed upon near the town of Cupar-
Angus, not far from the banks of the river Isla ; it
was not, however, put into execution till the time
of his successor. His greatest sphere of action was
in the wild country around Melrose itself. The
abbot's grey horse and his truly apostolic retinue
were well known in the valley of the Tweed, and
among the many winding glens, which each sends
its tributary stream into the broad river, along the
banks of which lay the possessions of the abbey.
This was the very ground which had witnessed St.
Cuthbert's labours before he was made bishop of
Lindisfarne, and the Saint had never a worthier
successor than abbot Waltheof. His retinue was
not of the kind which brother Josceline regrets was
becoming in fashion among the Cistercian abbots
of his time. They could not sleep, he says, for a
night in a grange of the abbey without a train of
servants and numerous sumpter-horses with pack-
saddles containing mantles of the finest cloth, lined
with lamb's-wool. His train consisted of a monk
and a lay-brother, with three boys to look after the
horses. The abbot was so little solicitous about his

420 ST. WALTHEOF

personal appearance, and travelled with so little
luggage himself, that he used to ride with the boots
and other apparel of his attendants slung on in front,
to save them the trouble of carrying them.

He was, however, not the less beloved by the
vassals of the abbey because he travelled about in
the guise of a poor man. Melrose was the regular
refuge of the whole countryside, in the midst of the
many physical sufferings which came upon the
peasantry in those hard times. Sometimes grievous
famines come upon the land, and the whole popula-
tion from a great distance round used to assemble
about the abbey. It required faith to undertake
to feed these multitudes, and God rewarded the
faith of the abbot, by working miracles to enable
him to do what he had undertaken. At one time
it is said, a sore distress afflicted the country, and
no one knew what to do. It was yet three months
to the harvest, and the last year's provision was
all spent. The corn was still green in the valleys
and on the hill-sides ; and what was to be done in
the meanwhile, before autumn came? Melrose was
the only resource, and so all trooped off to the Tweed
side with their wives and children, and thronged
the abbey gates. It was hardly possible that the
granaries of the monks could supply them ; but
at least it would be better to die under the abbey
walls, where the brethren would administer the rites
of the church to the dying, than to lie down and
perish in detachments in their lonely glens. A vast
crowd, therefore, collected together, and, as it were,
besieged the gates of Melrose. Waltheof went out
with Thomas the cellarer and some of the brethren

ST. WALTHEOF 421

to learn how large was the multitude. He found
that they had regularly encamped about the abbey,
under the trees of the many woods, and on the level
grounds by the side of the Tweed, for two miles
around ; four thousand men were said to be assembled
on the spot. Waltheof turned to Thomas, and asked
him how this number of men were to be nourished
till the autumn. Thomas was called in the country
the good cellarer, on account of his kindness to the
poor; he said that the numerous flocks and herds
of the abbey might be slain to feed them ; but, he
added, all the corn of the abbey was consumed ex-
cept what remained in the two granges of Gattonside
and Eildon. The abbot, on hearing this, took his
crosier in his hand and crossed the Tweed to Gatton-
side, then a grange belonging to the abbey, now a
village smiling amongst its orchards opposite to
Melrose. He then went into the granary, and strik-
ing his crosier into the corn, knelt down and prayed
with many tears. He remained a long time on his
knees, and, when he rose, he made the sign of the
cross, and went away ; he also proceeded to an
upland farm called the Eildon grange, and did the
same thing there; then he turned to Thomas and
said, " Now disperse boldly, and give to the poor
and to ourselves, for God will give the increase, and
multiply enough for the use of both." The monk
did so, and the abbot's faith was rewarded, for the
granaries of the two granges lasted out the three
months which intervened to the harvest.

It was not, however, only among the poor of the
land that Waltheof obtained influence; his noble
birth, and his brother's high station, made him a

422 ST. WALTHEOF

conspicuous character ; and whenever the business
of the abbey for a moment brought him in contact
with his lofty kindred, the contrast between his
poverty and the station to which he was born
acted as a practical homily in a place where the
voice of religion was seldom heard. He once had
occasion to go to King Stephen, who, as well as
the King of Scotland, was his kinsman. This meet-
ing with Stephen took place in the open air, and
he found him standing with Simon, the Earl of
Northampton, his own brother. The abbot had
not altered his apparel or increased the number of
his attendants, though he was going into the king's
presence. He appeared as usual on his old grey
horse, with the boots of the grooms slung on before
him instead of costly trappings ; and altogether he
was a very uncouth figure to appear among the
nobles, who were round the king, dressed in their
burnished armour, it could not be denied. His
brother felt ashamed of him as he approached, and
said : " See, my lord king, how my brother and
thy kinsman does honour to his lineage." Stephen
fixed his eyes on the abbot, and said with his
usual oath, " By God's birth, if thou and I had only
the grace to see it, he is an honour to us ; he is an
ornament to our race, even as the gem adorns the
gold in which it is set." Then he came forward
and kissed the abbot's hand, and asked for his
blessing, and bent his head to receive it. He granted
Waltheof all that he wanted, and took leave of him.
After he was gone, Stephen remembered his own
troubled life, how he had to fight for his crown,
and how little it profited him. He was a merciful

ST. WALTHEOF 423

prince, and of much good feeling, and was affected
by this encounter. He was no friend to church-
men, on bad terms with the Pope and with both
English archbishops ; but his religious feelings were
roused, and he burst into tears, and said, "This
man has put all worldly things under his feet, but
we are in chase after this fleeting world, and are
losing body and soul in the pursuit." Such was
the effect of the sight of Waltheof on Stephen;
his prayers for his brother had a more lasting result,
though he had to wait long to see the fruit of
them. Simon listened at last to his brother's ex-
hortations, and repented sincerely of his irregular
life. He founded the abbey of St. Andrew at
Northampton, in which house St. Thomas after-
wards took refuge, as well as a nunnery dedicated
to St. Mary without the same town, and the Cis-
tercian abbey of Saltrey, dependent on the house
of Warden.

The favour of God was manifested to Waltheof
in other ways besides this answer to his prayers.
Our blessed Lord rewarded the crucified soul of
his servant with a foretaste of those joys which He
will give to His blessed ones in heaven. Some-
times, at long intervals, when the abbot was keeping
his Christmas or Easter festival in the church at
Melrose, Christ was pleased to manifest Himself to
His Saint in visions, one of which we will give in the
words of Josceline : — " Once when on Easter-night he
celebrated the vigil, and the convent was chaunting
psalms and hymns, the Saint saw in the Spirit the
whole course of the Lord's Passion, as though it
were going on before his eyes. It seemed to him

424 ST. WALTHEOF

that he saw the Lord, after the scourging and
mocking, bearing the crown of thorns upon His
head, crucified on the tree, His hands and feet
distended by the nails. He thought that he
saw him giving up the ghost, and commending
His soul into the hands of the Father, and after-
wards pouring forth from His pierced side blood
and water, to be our bath and our chalice, the
price and the reward of man's salvation. He looked
upon his soul, separated from the body, spoiling
hell, and, followed by a numberless multitude of
souls, coming out from the pit, resuming the body,
bringing joy to the Angels by His resurrection,
and by His appearance prostrating the soldiers, who
were set to watch lest the Life should arise from
the dead. Then in a vision he saw Him beautiful,
in His robes of glory, going forth in the greatness
of His strength, bringing into paradise the spoils
of captivity."

5. HOW WALTHEOF WAS TAKEN TO HIS REST

This was the way in which the Lord recompensed
him for the austerities with which he crucified his
flesh, for his intense devotion, and for the many
nights spent on the cold stones in the church, after
the brethren had retired to rest, when compline was
over. But he further rewarded him, by taking him
to his rest from the cares of the world, and by calling
him away while he was still at Melrose in the
midst of his monks.

Waltheof had been many years abbot of Melrose,

ST. WALTHEOF 425

and there seemed but little likelihood of his being
disturbed by attempts to remove him. He was,
however, to have another trial before he died. In
the year 1159, when St. Aelred happened to be
at Melrose, the brethren were one day surprised to
see a large and glittering cavalcade approach the
abbey ; it was composed partly of ecclesiastics,
partly of men whose dress and bearing showed them
to be of high rank. They proved to be several of
the canons, accompanied by the great men of the
realm, come to offer Waltheof the vacant bishopric
of St. Andrew's. The abbot, as they had expected,
refused the see ; but they had recourse to St. Aelred,
as his superior, to force him to accept it. The
Saint enjoined him on his obedience to accept it.
Waltheof, however, begged his friend to hear him
in private ; and, when they were together, he
informed him that God had revealed to him that
he had now not long to remain in the world, and
that the charge was too much for one who was
soon to sicken and die. St. Aelred looked mourn-
fully at his friend, and saw that, from his emaciated
features and wasted frame, death could never be
looked upon as unlikely: but he would not believe
the message which Waltheof gave him ; he shut his
eyes to the notion that his friend was to go to
his rest before him, and leave him alone upon earth ;
he therefore persisted in his command. Then they
returned together to the chapter - house, where the
assembly was anxiously waiting for their return.
All were glad to hear St. Aelred's decision ; but
Waltheof stood up and said, " I have put off my
old garment, how should I put it on again ? I have

426 ST. WALTHEOF

washed my feet clean, how should I stain them
again with the dust of the world's business ? " Then
he added, solemnly, with the tone and manner of
a prophet, " Believe me, ye will elect another man,
and have him for your bishop." Then he pointed
with his ringer to a stone in the pavement of the
chapter-house, and said, " There is the place of my
rest ; here will be my habitation, among my children,
as long as the Lord wills." All who were present
saw that he was resolved, and the assembly retired,
saying that they would let the matter rest for a
time.

Waltheof was right ; soon after this he was taken
violently ill ; his body was racked with pains. About
the time of the dog-days, says Josceline, he grew
very much worse, and all men thought that he must
die at once. Nevertheless he lived for three weeks
after this in dreadful pain of body, but perfectly
collected in mind, so that in the intervals of his
agonies he used to call the brethren around him, and
exhort them to love and concord amongst each other,
and charity to the poor. During the last nine days
he seemed to be dying every moment, and the
attendants wondered how it was possible that a frame
so exhausted and so racked with pain could hold
together. Then it was remembered that he had
been used to pray that in his last sickness he might
suffer pain as a penance for his sins, so that his life
seemed to be prolonged in these fiery pains, in answer
to his own prayers. As soon as a fit of pain had
passed away and a short breathing time was allowed
him, he would smile faintly, and lift up his hands, as
if to thank God. Once he said to those about him,

ST. WALTHEOF 427

" Oh ! if I could but speak, I could tell you of
wondrous things which I have seen." It is probable
that God, who had so often favoured him with visions,
now deigned to console him with a foretaste of
heavenly joys, even while he was lying in agony.
On Lammas-day, when the Church celebrates the
memory of St. Peter's miraculous delivery from
prison, he was so visibly dying that he received the
Body and Blood of Christ and the rite of extreme
Unction. Yet for two days and two nights he lay
in pain, hourly expecting death, and yet kept alive
to suffer. About the dawn of day on the 3rd of
August, the convent was summoned to be present
at the death of their father, and he was placed on
sackcloth to die, according to the rule of the order.
When he heard the low chaunt of the psalms and
litanies around him, he opened his eyes and looked
round upon them as if to thank them. He seemed
so much revived that they retired ; once again this
scene had been renewed, when after sext, as the
convent was sitting down to its mid-day meal, they
were summoned for the last time. "There," says
Josceline, " with the chaunts of his brethren sounding
about him, this holy soul, after being tried as in a
fiery furnace with fevers and manifold pains, and
purified as gold in the fire, quitted the mortal taber-
nacle of its spotless body. Thus did the holy father
pass from the world to the Father, from faith to
sight, from hope to joy, from the shadow to the
reality, from darkness to light, from the toilsome
race to the hard-won crown, from the misery of this
present life to the everlasting glory of a life never
to pass away."

428 ST. WALTHEOF

Thirteen years after the death of the Saint, the
stone under which his body lay, in the very place
which he had pointed out, was raised by abbot
Josceline, and his remains were found uncorrupt.
Again the same thing was found forty-eight years
after his death. Many miracles were done at his
tomb, which now lies neglected and unknown among
the ruins of his abbey. A stone, indeed, is pointed
out by tradition in the choir, to which his remains
may have been translated. Nothing, however, cer-
tain is known, except that his body will rise glori-
ously in the resurrection of the just.

LIFE OF
ST. ROBERT1

WHAT is meant by the word obedience, as applied
to our blessed Lord, we cannot tell, still less can we
conceive how, in consequence of His humiliation, He
could be exalted. All that we know is, that for us
He bowed Himself down to the death of the cross,
in obedience to the will of the Father ; and that for
our sakes He, in His human nature, was received up
into glory, though His everlasting glory could neither
grow nor decrease. His glory is represented as being
the reward of His voluntary sufferings ; and yet,
incomprehensible as it is, this is not a mere repre-
sentation, but both the glory and the sufferings are
real. And this, again, is the case with all members
of His Church ; as His merits are imparted to them
not by a nominal imputation, but by a real and
ineffable union, so also the cross which they bear is

1 This life of St. Robert is principally taken from a manuscript life of
him in the British Museum, which contains a few particulars not in the
Bollandists. It speaks of having heard things spoken of him by the
old men in the Abbey, and also of a book preserved there called
Collectaneus Sti. Roberti, containing his meditations and prayers, and
also of the book of his miracles. Many miraculous stories are told of
him in the life in the Bollandists.

429

430 ST. ROBERT

not figurative, but a very crucifixion of body and
soul. In proportion, too, .as Christians are more
saintly, that is, more Christian, they also partake
more of the cross. They are not content with the
narrow bounds of natural suffering, but they seek out
for themselves, as it were, a supernatural cross, that
they may learn to live above the flesh and to crucify
it with their Lord. It is this inseparable connection
between glory and suffering which makes the most
contemplative Saints to be also the most austere.
It is this which has driven holy monks and hermits
into the wilderness ; they durst not, without crucify-
ing their bodies, give themselves up to the holy joys
into which their love for Christ threw them, when
they contemplated His mysteries. "There is no
Thabor without Calvary," as it has been expressed ;
and " this is a fundamental law of Christian mys-
ticism."

The first Cistercians were no exceptions to this
rule, which is, in fact, the principle which gave life
to all monastic orders, and which connects together
ascetics in all ages, St. Anthony and St. Bruno,
St. Benedict and St. Romuald. On the low, vine-
clad plains of Burgundy St. Bernard renewed what
St. Basil had begun in the solitudes of Pontus. In
the wild forests and on the lonely mountains of the
north of England the same scenes appeared as in
the first ages were witnessed in the deserts of
Egypt. And this was especially the case with
the first generation of English Cistercians ; from
peculiar circumstances, they were distinguished by
sterner features than those of France. There is
little enough of sternness in the idea which we

ST. ROBERT 431

form of St. Bernard writing his sermons on the
Canticles in the arbour of twisted flowers,1 in the
garden of Clairvaux ; or in St. Basil's description
of his solitude, and of the clear river sweeping
round his woody mountains, which collected its
waters into a clear basin like a lake, and then
again narrowed into a river. But our first English
Cistercians had little leisure for scenery. The colony
sent to Rievaux came over from France and found
a home ready for them ; but the first monks who
broke away from a Benedictine abbey, as St. Stephen
did from Molesme, had to endure a trial which it
required superhuman energy to bear. Their history
forms the principal portion of the very brief life of
Robert of Newminster which remains to us.

Few, indeed, are the particulars which are related
of him, except as far as he is connected with Foun-
tains Abbey. He was born in the district of Craven,
apparently at the village of Gargrave.2 He went to
the university of Paris, and his biographer appeals
to a book on the Psalms, which he is said to have
composed, as a proof of his progress in theology.
He then was ordained priest to his native village
of Gargrave. He next appears as a monk at
Whitby. In the year 1132, however, news reached
the monastery of a movement in the Benedictine
order, which entirely altered Robert's plan of life ;
and we must transport the reader into the chapter-
house of St. Mary's Abbey at York, that he may

1 Pisatiis floribus intextum. Vita Sti. Bern.

2 Ex provincia Eboracensi quse Craven dicitur. Gargrave ubi natus
fuerat. MS. The Church of St. Andrew of Gargrave was given in
1321 to the Abbey of Sallay by William Percy. Vide Dugdale.

432 ST. ROBERT

see how the voice from Citeaux found an echo in
England.

The abbey was rich and magnificent, but any
one who entered it soon perceived that St. Bene-
dict would hardly have known it for his. It was
not that the monks were men of scandalous lives.
" On the contrary," says the chronicle of Fountains,
"they lived honestly, but they fell far short of the
perfection enjoined by the rule." The abbot was
a kind-hearted man, but he was old and ignorant,
and the monks led an easy life. A noise of chat-
tering and laughing might be heard all over the
abbey ; some, indeed, kept aloof, and would go into
the church to pray while others were idle. The
greater part, after compline, instead of going to
the dormitory, walked about, and, dividing into
knots, talked about the news of the day. Thus
there were two parties in the community ; but the
strict party were a very small minority, only thirteen
monks. However, they had at their head Richard,
the prior, and Gervase, the sub-prior, so they hoped
that something might be done through them ; and,
on the eve of the feast of St. Peter and St. Paul,
he went, with the sub-prior, to Godfrey, the abbot,
and propounded to him his thoughts as to the lax
state of the abbey. But the poor abbot trembled
at the very notion of innovation. He said that the
convent would have an ill name, that all the world
lived as they lived, and that he did not see why
they should affect singularity ; in fine, it was impos-
sible. Richard, however, stood his ground manfully ;
as for innovation, it was only going back to the rule
of St. Benedict ; and, as for impossibility, the monks

ST. ROBERT 433

of Clairvaux and Citeaux found it possible enough.
The abbot put off his decision, and begged him to
put down in writing what he wanted. By the time,
however, that this was done, the other monks had
heard of what was rumoured ; " and," says the
chronicle, "there arose a great tumult in the monas-
tery." Richard, seeing that the case was hopeless,
applied to Thurstan, Archbishop of York, saying
that they were threatened with excommunication
by their brethren. They protested that all that
they wanted was "to follow Christ, who was a poor
man, in His voluntary poverty, and to bear Christ's
cross on their bodies." The archbishop applied to
Abbot Godfrey ; and the old abbot wept, and said
that he would not oppose their holy resolution, but
could do nothing without the chapter. So the arch-
bishop promised to meet the chapter.

On the appointed day, Thurstan, with several
grave and reverend ecclesiastics connected with the
cathedral, went to St. Mary's Abbey, to try to pacify
it. When, however, they reached as far as the door
of the chapter-house, they were met by the abbot,
who protested that the archbishop alone should
enter, without the secular clerks who attended him.
When Thurstan remonstrated, out rushed from the
chapter-house the whole convent, and with them a
number of strange monks, Cluniacs and Benedictines,
assembled for the occasion. Such an uproar ensued
as St. Mary's Abbey has never witnessed before or
since. They roared, they bellowed, and they
declared that they would rather suffer an interdict
for an hundred years than yield an inch. Suddenly
they shouted, " Seize them, seize them ! " and then

VOL. V. 2 E

434 ST. ROBERT

they attacked Richard and his friends, and would
have torn them to pieces, if they had not clasped
the archbishop's knees for shelter. Then they drove
archbishop, monks, and clerks, altogether, pell-mell
into the church, with cries of " Seize the rebels !
seize the traitors ! " So the archbishop quitted the
monastery, and took with him the brethren thus
forcibly ejected, being twelve priests and one sub-
deacon, and lodged them in his house. Here they
remained till Christmas - day, when the archbishop
took them with him to Ripon Minster, and, in the
midst of the solemn services of the festival, he
assigned them their habitation, of which they set
out to take possession, after having elected Richard
for their abbot.

This was what Robert heard at Whitby ; he must
also have been told that nothing could equal the
desolation of the place, or the hardships which, in
that rugged season, they endured. We know nothing
of the previous workings of his mind, but that this
did not deter him is quite clear, for he obtained
leave from his abbot to join them, and set out to
find their habitation, and a more desolate scene
could hardly be imagined. It was on the banks
of the Skeld, under a ridge of rocks, and surrounded
by pathless woods, then in all the nakedness of
winter. And where were the monks themselves?
Under a broad elm, in the midst of the belt of
rocks, they had made a hut with hurdles roofed
with turf. Here they lived, in the midst of the
terrible cold of winter ; their very existence was a
miracle, but it was still more wonderful how medita-
tion, and the chaunting of psalms by night, and

ST. ROBERT 435

the regular hours, and the holy sacrifice of the mass,
could go on regularly, almost in the open air, to
the sound of the wind howling about them through
the leafless trees, and of the hoarse roaring of the
swollen Skeld. Robert's must have been a resolute
heart, not to be appalled by such a scene as this ;
but he was supported by his resolution to suffer
with Christ, so that the bitter cold, and the long
fasts, and coarse food of the little community were
a source of joy to him, because they united him
to his Lord.

He found the brethren employed in hewing down
trees to build a chapel. As for tilling their ground,
that was out of the question at that time of the
year ; and they were supported solely by supplies
which they obtained from the Archbishop of York.
It seems wonderful how human bodies could manage
to pass the winter in such a solitude, and with so
little shelter, but the grace of God supported them.
" No sign of sadness," says the Chronicle, " was seen
among them ; not a sound of murmuring, but all
blessed God with entire fervour, poor in worldly
goods, but strong in faith." After the winter was
over, and the voice of spring was heard in their
woods, they determined to send to Clairvaux that
they might be affiliated to the Cistercian order.
We may suppose with what joy the Blessed St.
Bernard received the two brethren whom they sent,
and wrote to them a letter with his own hand,
sending them an aged monk called Godfrey, to
teach them Cistercian discipline. According to
Godfrey's directions, they built their house, and
ordered their whole life according to the institutes

436 ST. ROBERfT

of Clairvaux. Very soon the spark which they had
kindled spread in England, and ten novices appeared
to share their hard life with them. Abbot Richard
received them joyfully ; but it was a great act of
faith to receive them, for still they had no posses-
sions of their own but what the Archbishop of York
gave them. For two years they struggled on, some-
times obliged to live on roots and on the leaves of
trees, till they almost despaired, and Richard set
out for Clairvaux to expose their distress to its holy
abbot. St. Bernard assigned them a grange belong-
ing to his abbey, for their support, but Richard on
his return found that God had had compassion upon
them, and had rewarded their faith by moving the
heart of Hugh, the Dean of York, to become a
novice of the poor house of Fountains, and to give
them all his wealth, so that the abbot when he
returned, found plenty reigning in his monastery.
He found also a library, and the books of the Holy
Scripture, which Hugh had given them.

Years went on, and the community flourished
more and more, till in the fifth year after their
foundation, a noble baron, called Ralph de Merlay,
offered to endow a Cistercian house if they would
send a colony of White monks into his lands.
Abbot Richard joyfully assented, and he appointed
Robert to be the leader of the twelve brethren of
the new house. " It was a beautiful place, pleasant
with water, and very fair wood about it," and was
called Newminster.

Of Robert's government of his abbey, such scanty
records remain that it is impossible to form a con-
nected history of it. As a proof of its flourishing

ST. ROBjERT 437

condition, three colonies were sent from his abbey
during his lifetime, Pipewell in 1143, Sallay and
Roche about 1147. Further than this, only scattered
notices are inserted, two of which are here put down,
because they help to give a faint idea of the abbot,
and because they have never been published else-
where. One day, Abbot Robert wished to return
from a grange, where he had been visiting the lay
brethren of the abbey ; a great festival was
approaching, and he wished to hurry back to New-
minster. He had no palfrey to convey him back,
so he called for a pack-horse, which used to carry
bread to the granges. He mounted his sorry steed
and pulled his cowl over his face, and began to
pray and meditate as he was wont to do wherever
he went. As he was riding along, he was roused
from his meditation by a voice rudely asking him
whether he had seen the lord abbot in the place
which he had left. This was a nobleman who had
come to the abbey on business, and had been
directed to seek him at the grange. Seeing this
shabby figure, the nobleman thought that it was
some lay-brother. Robert did not choose to un-
deceive him, for he wished still to pass for a poor lay-
brother, and so he shrewdly said, " When I was last
at the grange, the abbot was there." But the noble-
man when he had looked further at the speaker's
features, knew at once from his saintly face that
the abbot himself was speaking to him, so he
humbly got down from his fine horse, and made
the abbot mount it, and when he had finished his
business with him, he begged for his blessing and
went away.

438 ST. ROBERT

At another time a great trial befell Robert, one
probably more harassing than all his bodily morti-
fications. He was accused to St. Bernard of mis-
conduct in the government of his abbey, and
it appears that the saint so far believed it that
Robert was obliged to take a journey into France
to clear himself. But when St. Bernard saw him
and marked the angelic temper with which the
abbot bore the humiliation, without speaking harshly
of his accusers, he felt sure that he was innocent,
and from that time loved him the more. During
this journey he also saw Pope Eugenius,1 and
returned back to Newminster full of joy, for good
had come out of evil ; and it is especially recorded
that he did not speak a word of reproach to his
accusers when he returned.

It was in 1159 that this saint passed to his rest.
He had been to visit his great friend, St. Godric,
the holy hermit of Finchale, whom he used to
consult in all spiritual matters. It was now fifty
years since St. Godric had entered his hermitage ;
and though he was lying in extreme weakness on
his bed from which he never rose, yet his mind
rose above his body, and he was endowed with
many supernatural gifts so that he often knew of
events which happened a great distance off as though
he were present. It was a little before the feast
of the Lord's Ascension that he quitted St. Godric
to hasten back to his monastery, and the holy hermit
told him at parting, that he should see his face no

1 This fixes the date to 1147-8. William, Bishop of Durham, who is
said in the MS. to have given the lands of Walsingham to the abbey,
is William of St. Barbara.

ST. ROBERT 439

more. On the Saturday after the festival, he fell
ill, and knew that he was to die. When he had
received the Holy Sacrament, and was visibly dying,
the older brethren of the monastery came to him,
begging of him to name as his successor the man
whom he thought most fit. But the saint said, " I
know well that ye will not follow my advice, but
elect brother Walter," and so indeed it befell after
his death. Soon after this he raised his hands to
heaven, and prayed for his spiritual sons, and for
his monastery, and then he passed away to the joys
of heaven on the 7th of June 1159. At the time
that he gave up his soul into the hands of God,
a vision appeared to St. Godric, which we will
give in the words of the chronicle. " The man of
God, Godric, saw while he was praying, an intense
light penetrating into the darkness of the night
and two walls of brightness reaching from earth
to heaven. Between these walls angels were flying
up to heaven, bearing with songs of joy, the soul of
Abbot Robert, one on the right hand, the other on
the left. The soul, as far as it could be seen, was
like a globe of fire. As they were ascending, the
enemy of the human race met them, but went back
in confusion, for he could find nothing to lay hold
of in him. And the servant of God saw the soul
of his dear friend thus ascend to heaven, of which
the gates were opened for him. And, lo ! a voice
was heard, repeating twice, * Enter now, my
friends/"

The body of St. Robert was buried first in the
chapter, and afterwards translated to the choir in con-
sequence of the miracles which took place at his tomb.

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