ST. AIDAN OF LINDISFARNE (A.D.651).
St. Aidan, whose death made such an impression on the youthful Cuthbert, was the most shining character among the early British Christians, a man of the utmost gentleness, piety, and moderation. He came from Iona in 635, settled in Northumbria, and became Bishop of Lindisfarne. He established a training school for twelve English boys, one of whom was St. Chad. He used to retire occasionally to complete solitude in Farne Island, and there fast. He was an earnest missionary, and used to travel on foot and get into conversation with any fellow-traveller, rich or poor. As he walked along with them, they used to meditate on texts or recite psalms. Oswald was then king; and being himself a saint, both worked amicably together. Oswald often invited Aidan to the royal table; but the saint, after taking very little refreshment, was always called away to some prayer meeting or mission work of an urgent kind. One Easter Sunday he took luncheon with the King, and they were just about to help themselves to some dainties, when a thane rushed in and said that there was a mob of famished people at the gates begging for alms. Oswald at once ordered the dish of untasted dainties to be carried away and divided among them, and the saint was so charmed that he seized the King’s right hand and said, “May this hand never decay!” That hand never decayed, and was kept with pride in a silver casket for four centuries later by the monks of Durham. Another time King Oswy gave a fine horse to Aidan,on which he might ride during his mission work, so as to save much time; but soon afterwards, a beggar man coming up, and Aidan having no change in his pocket, dismounted and gave horse and all the trappings to the beggar instead. The King hearing of this, asked Aidan why he did such a thing, and the answer was, “Surely a mare is nothing to compare with that son of God?” The King at first thought this no answer at all, and was moody; but on reflection he relented, and threw himself at the feet of Aidan, saying he would never again dispute as to what or how much should be bestowed on sons of God. So they were good friends ever after. Aidan was the glory of his age, and died in 651, and his relics long worked miracles.
ST. CHAD SUBJECT TO THE FEAR OF THE LORD (A.D.673).
St. Chad was one of the twelve pupils of St. Aidan of Lindisfarne, and in due time was recommended by Archbishop Theodore as Bishop of Lichfield. St. Chad was of an ascetic and retiring manner, and went his rounds on foot; but Theodore insisted that he should ride, and gave him a horse, and with his own hands lifted him up to mount. Chad was a busy and careful bishop, but pre-eminently a grave and serious man, and dwelt most on the awful side of religion. Bede says, “He was ever subject to the fear of the Lord, and in all his actions mindful of his end.” Everything in Nature was viewed as a call to sacred employments. If it was a high wind during the service, Chad would stop his reading and implore the Divine mercy for all mankind. If it became a storm or thunder and lightning, he would repair to the church and give himself up with a fixed mind to prayer and the recitation of psalms until the weather cleared up. If questioned as to this, he would quote the Psalmist’s words, “The Lord thundered out of heaven,” and he spoke of the last great fire, and of the Lord coming in the clouds with great power and majesty to judge the quick and the dead. Chad’s death was remarkable, and occurred during a pestilence which swept away many of his flock. One night his faithful monk, Owin, when at work in the fields, heard a sweet sound as of angelic melody, which came from the south-east and entered and filled the oratory where Chad then was, and next it rose heavenward. As Owin was wondering what this could mean, he noticed Chad open the window and clap his hands, as if beckoning to some one. Owin entered, and was told to summon the brethren; and Chad addressing them seriously, and charging them to carry on the good work steadily, told them his end was near, for the lovable guest who had summoned so many brethrenhad come to him that day. He gave them his blessing, and told Owin privately that the voices he had heard were those of angels come to summon him to his heavenly reward, and that they would return for him in seven days. So on the seventh day he died, and was always called the “most glorious” St. Chad.
DEATH OF ST. HILDA, ABBESS OF WHITBY (A.D.680).
St. Hilda, who died in 680, was of the royal family of Northumbria, and devoted her life to the monastic profession, and taught the strict observance of justice, piety, and chastity. She was usually called mother, in token of her piety and grace. For the last eight years of her life she was sorely tried by a long sickness, accompanied with fever; but during all that time she never omitted either to give thanks to her Maker or to teach both publicly and privately the flock committed to her. When at the last she felt her end to be near, she received the viaticum of the Holy Communion; and then, having summoned to her the handmaids of Christ who were in the same monastery, she continued admonishing them, all the while she perceived with joy her own death approaching. On that same night the Omnipotent Lord deigned to reveal by a manifest vision her death to another monastery, where a holy woman, named Begu, had dedicated her virginity to the Lord for thirty years. Begu was then resting in the dormitory, when she suddenly heard in the air the well-known sound of the bell by which they were wont to be aroused when any one of them was called forth from the world. She noticed a great light in the heavens; and looking earnestly at it, she saw the soul of Hilda, the handmaid of the Lord, borne to heaven by attendant and conducting angels. Begu immediately arose and told her abbess how Hilda, the mother of them all, had just then departed from this world, ascending with exceeding light, having angels for guides to the abodes of eternal light, and the society of the celestial citizens. Yet these monasteries were distant from each other thirteen miles.
THE ABBEY AND MONKS OF ST. GALL (A.D.680).
The abbey of St. Gall was founded by St. Gallus, an Irish monk, who left his monastery in Belfast Lough in the seventh century to preach the Gospel on the Continent; and he settled near Lake Constance, on the banks of the Steinach, then a wilderness. He taught the savage tribes the arts of peace and civilised them, and the cell which he inhabited began to be visited bypilgrims, and after his death miracles were wrought at his tomb. This led to an abbey being founded, which became the most famous as well as being the oldest in Germany. It was the asylum of learning from the eighth to the tenth centuries, where the classics were most studied and copied. The monks of St. Gall in time grew ambitious, and became imbued with a military disposition, and used to sally forth sword in hand to conquer (as narratedante, p. 224). Their wealth, from the donations of pilgrims, also turned their heads, and their military campaigns embroiled them with the authorities; and in the fifteenth century the inhabitants of the neighbouring town obtained the mastery, and soon afterwards the estates were secularised. The library is still exhibited as a famous collection of old manuscripts.
THE VENERABLE BEDE, MONK AND HISTORIAN (A.D.735).
Bede, the most valuable of the early historians of English ecclesiastical affairs, who died in 735, gives this account of himself: “Thus much of the ecclesiastical history of the Britons, and especially of the English nation, as far as I could learn, either by the writings of the ancients or from the tradition of our ancestors, or by my own knowledge, I, Bede, a servant of God, and priest of the monastery of the blessed Apostles Peter and Paul, which is at Wearmouth and Jarrow, have composed. And being born in the territory of that monastery, when I was seven years old, I was given to be educated to the most reverend Abbot Benedict and afterwards to Ceolfrid; and having spent my whole life since that time in the same monastery, I have devoted myself entirely to the study of Scripture, and at intervals between the observance of regular discipline and the daily care of singing in church, I always took delight in learning, or teaching, or writing. In the nineteenth year of my life, I received deacon’s orders; in the thirtieth, those of the priesthood,—both by the ministry of the most reverend Bishop John, and by order of Abbot Ceolfrid. From which time of my becoming a priest, till the fifty-ninth year of my age, I have made it my business, for the use of me and mine, to make brief notes on Holy Scriptures from the writings of venerable Fathers, or even to add something to their interpretations, in accordance with their views on the beginning of Genesis and part of Samuel.” Bede died aged sixty-two.
ST. CUTHBERT ADMITTED MONK (A.D.651-758).
Cuthbert was a shepherd-boy in 651, watching his flock on the Lammermuir Hills, by the side of the river Leader, not far fromthe ancient town of Lauder. One night, as his companions were sleeping and he was praying, on a sudden he saw a long stream of light break through the darkness of the night, and in the midst of it a company of the heavenly host descended to the earth, and having received among them a spirit of surpassing brightness, returned without delay to their heavenly home. The young man beloved of God was struck with awe at this sight, and stimulated to encounter the honours of spiritual warfare, and to earn for himself eternal life and happiness. He began to offer up praise and thanksgiving, and called on his companions to join. He then told them he had just seen the door of heaven opened, and there was led in thither amidst an angelic company the spirit of some holy man, who now, for ever blessed, beholds the glory of the heavenly mansion and Christ its King, while they were still grovelling amid this earthly darkness. He said he thought it must have been some holy bishop, or some favoured one of the company of the faithful, whom he saw thus carried into heaven amidst so much splendour by that large angelic choir. As Cuthbert said these words, the hearts of the shepherds were kindled up to reverence and praise. When the morning came, he found that Aidan, Bishop of the Church of Lindisfarne, a man of exalted piety, had ascended to the heavenly kingdom at the very moment of the vision. Immediately, therefore, he delivered over the sheep that he was feeding to their owners, and determined forthwith to enter a monastery. He went to Melrose, the monastery two miles east of the present abbey, where Boisil was prior, and being admitted, Boisil at once saw the future greatness of this young novice, who lived a holy life there for ten years more. Some other accounts state that St. Cuthbert was of Irish parentage, and was brought by his mother when a child into Britain.
ST. CUTHBERT AS MONK BISHOP (A.D.687).
St. Cuthbert, after leaving the monastery at Melrose, became an eloquent preacher in Galloway and that neighbourhood, and in 664 was made prior of Lindisfarne, in the Farne Islands, where to this day the little shells found only on that coast are called St. Cuthbert’s shells, and the sea birds, his favourite friends, are called St. Cuthbert’s birds. He built a cell, and pilgrims from all parts flocked to ask his counsel and his blessing during eight years, when he was chosen Bishop of Lindisfarne. He took special interest in the monasteries of nuns, of which there were several in his diocese, such as Coldingham and Whitby.When not visiting officially his charges, he retired to his cell at Farne. When his last days drew near, in 687, he directed his brethren to wrap his body after his death in the linen which the Abbess Verca had given to him, and to bury it, as they so earnestly desired, in their church at Lindisfarne. “Keep peace with one another,” were his last words, “and ever guard the Divine gift of charity. Maintain concord with other servants of Christ. Despise not any of the household of faith who come to you seeking hospitality; but receive, and entertain, and dismiss them with friendliness and affection. And do not think yourselves better than others of the same faith and manner of life; only with such as err from the unity of Catholic peace have no communion.” These were his last words. His remains were taken to Lindisfarne, where, amid the prayers and solemn chants of the brethren, they were interred in a stone sarcophagus on the right of the altar in St. Peter’s Church. Eleven years later the body, still uncorrupt, was taken from the tomb, wrapped in fresh linen, and placed in a shrine of wood which was laid on the floor of the sanctuary. Great sanctity was shown to the saint’s relics by King Alfred, King Canute, and William the Conqueror. His own copy of the Gospels is still preserved in the British Museum as a fine specimen of Celtic art. The cathedral of Durham was at a later date dedicated to his memory, and in the twelfth century his relics were transferred to that place; and in 1537, when his shrine was plundered, his body was found still to be uncorrupt.
THE BODY OF ST. CUTHBERT CARRIED ABOUT BY MONKS FOR SEVEN YEARS (A.D.875).
When the Danes were ravaging the north of England in 875, causing great terror among all the monasteries, Eardulph, Bishop of Lindisfarne, in which church the body of St. Cuthbert rested, and Abbot Edred took suddenly the resolution to carry away the body for safety. When the people living near heard of this, they also resolved to leave their houses, and with their wives and children accompany the sacred charge, thinking that life without the saint’s protection would be unsafe. This company traversed nearly the whole country, carrying the body with them; and being after a time advised to seek refuge in Ireland, sailed from the mouth of the Derwent, in Cumberland, after taking a distressing farewell of their friends, who stood watching on the shore. A dreadful storm overtook the ship, and a copy of the Evangelists adorned with gold and jewels fell overboard into the sea. The vessel was in such distress that the party turned back, and landedat the place from which they started. They suffered many trials, and it is said for seven years they were in charge of the holy body and fleeing from the barbarians. At length the saint himself appeared in a vision, and told the monk Hunred where to search for the book when the tide was out, and also where to find a horse to draw the carriage on which the body lay. The book was duly found, and its leaves were all sound and perfect. And when a bridle was held up before the horse, it ran up to the monk and offered itself to be yoked. The body was afterwards carried to Chester-le-Street, the second see of the diocese of Durham, and there deposited; and on account of the sanctity thereby imparted, the King settled extensive lands on the Church for ever. King Alfred confirmed this grant, and on one occasion St. Cuthbert appeared to King Alfred as he was sitting reading the Scriptures, while his men were out fishing, and not only promised an abundant supply to their nets, but encouraged him to persevere in routing the Danes, all which promises were duly fulfilled.
DEATHBED OF THE VENERABLE BEDE (A.D.735).
St. Cuthbert, pupil of Bede, wrote to a friend this account of the last days of his master: “Bede was much troubled with shortness of breath, yet without pain, for a fortnight before the day of our Lord’s resurrection; but he passed his time cheerful and rejoicing, giving thanks to Almighty God every day and every night, nay every hour, and daily read lessons to us his disciples; and whatever remained of the day he spent in singing psalms. He also passed all the night awake in joy and thanksgiving, except so far as a very slight slumber prevented it; but he no sooner awoke than he presently repeated his wonted exercises, and ceased not to give thanks to God with uplifted hands. O truly happy man! He chanted the sentence of St. Paul the apostle, ‘It is dreadful to fall into the hands of the living God,’ and much more out of Holy Writ, wherein also he admonished us to think of our last hour and to shake off the sleep of the soul; and being learned in our poetry, he quoted some things in it. He also sang antiphons, according to our custom and his own, one of which is, ‘O King of glory, Lord of all power, who triumphing this day did ascend above all the heavens, do not leave us orphans, but send down upon us the Spirit of truth which was promised by the Father! Hallelujah!’ And when he came to the words ‘do not leave us orphans,’ he burst into tears and wept much; and an hour after he began to repeat what he hadcommenced, and we hearing it, mourned with him. By turns we read and by turns we wept; nay, we wept always while we read. In such joy we passed a period of fifty days. During these days he laboured to compose two works, well worthy to be remembered—the translation of the Gospel of St. John, and some collections from the ‘Book of Notes’ of Bishop Isidorus. When the Tuesday before the ascension of our Lord came, he began to suffer more in his breath, and a small swelling appeared in his feet. But he passed all that day, and dictated cheerfully, and now and then among other things said, ‘Go on quickly. I know not how long I shall hold out, and whether my Maker will not soon take me away.’ When the morning appeared, he ordered us to write with all speed what he had begun, and this done, we walked in procession with the relics of the saints till the third hour, as the custom of that day was. There was one of us, however, with him who said to him, ‘Most dear master, there is still one chapter wanting. Do you think it troublesome to be asked any more questions?’ He answered, ‘It is no trouble. Take your pen, and dip and write fast.’ Which he did. But at the ninth hour he said to me, ‘I have some little articles of value in my chest, such as pepper, napkins, and incense; run quickly and bring the priests of our monastery to me, that I may distribute among them the gifts which God has bestowed on me. The rich in this world are bent on giving gold and silver and other precious things. But I, with much charity and joy, will give my brothers that which God has given to me.’ He spoke to every one of them, admonishing and entreating them that they would carefully say masses and prayers for him, which they readily promised; but they all mourned and wept, especially because they said that they should no more see his face in this world. They rejoiced, however, because he said, ‘The time is come that I shall return to Him who formed me out of nothing. I have lived long; my merciful Judge well foresaw my life for me; the time of my dissolution draws nigh, for I desire to die and be with Christ.’ Having said much more, he passed the day joyfully till the evening; but the boy above mentioned said, ‘Dear master, there is yet one sentence not written.’ He answered, ‘Write quickly.’ Soon after the boy said, ‘The sentence is now written.’ He replied, ‘It is well; you have said the truth. It is ended. Let my head rest on your hands, for it is a great satisfaction to me to sit opposite my holy place, in which I was wont to pray, that I may also, sitting, call upon my Father.’ And thus on the floor of his little cell, singing, ‘Glory be to the Father, and to the Son,and to the Holy Ghost,’ when he had named the Holy Ghost, he breathed his last, and so departed to the heavenly kingdom. All who were present at the death of the blessed Father said they had never seen any other person expire with so much devotion and in so tranquil a frame of mind. For, as you have heard, so long as the soul animated his body, he never ceased to give thanks to the true and living God, with outstretched hands exclaiming, ‘Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost,’ with other spiritual ejaculations.”
A WARRIOR DUKE BECOMES MONK (A.D.806).
Duke William was commander of the first cohort in Charlemagne’s army, and fought many battles with the infidels and subdued the Saracens, and then founded the monastery of St. Saviour, in the Herault. Afterwards, in 806, he disclosed to the King his desire of becoming a monk, a resolution which caused much grief to all the Court. He rejected the liberal gifts which were then offered him, but only asked for and obtained a reliquary containing a portion of the wood of the holy cross. It had been sent to Charles by Zechariah, Patriarch of Jerusalem. A crowd of nobles forced their way into his presence and implored William not to desert them. But being inflamed with a Divine ardour, he abandoned all he held dear, and amid tears and groans took his farewell. When he reached the town of Brives, he offered his armour on the altar of St. Julian, the martyr, hanging his helmet and splendid shield over the martyr’s tomb in the church, and suspending outside the door his quiver and bow, with his long lance and two-edged sword, as an offering to God. He then set forth in the guise of a pilgrim of Christ, and passed through Aquitaine to the monastery which he had built a short time before in the wilderness. He drew near to it with naked feet, and with haircloth about his body. When the brethren heard of his approach, they met him at the cross-roads, and forming a triumphal procession against his will, conducted him to the abbey. He then made his offering of the reliquary more precious than gold, with gold and silver vessels and all kinds of ornaments; and having proffered his petition, gave up the world with all its pomps and enticements, was made a monk, and became another person in Christ Jesus. (See another account,ante, p. 215.)
HOW THE WARRIOR DUKE BEHAVED AS MONK (A.D.806).
When Duke William, in 806, became a monk in the abbey of St. Saviour, in the Herault, he at once showed his delight inevery lowly task. He set about making a good road up the steep cliffs, and cut through rocks to make a causeway, using hammer and pickaxe like a day labourer. He also planted vineyards and fruit-trees and laid out gardens. He laboured in all ways with his own hands in true humility. He often prostrated himself before the abbot and brethren, beseeching that for God’s mercy he might be allowed still greater self-renunciation and hard work. He sought the lowest offices in the monastery, and the meaner the toil the more welcome. He would gladly act as a beast of burden for the brethren in the Lord’s house. He who had been a mighty duke was not ashamed to mount a poor donkey with a load of bottles, or carry fagots and pitchers of water, or light the fires, or wash the bowls and platters. When the hour of refection came, he would spread the table for the monks in due order, and remain to watch the house, fasting till the meal was over. Once, when the wood for baking was exhausted, he was forced to use twigs and straw, which choked the oven, and was chidden for his delay. He had nothing with which to clear out the ashes; but, rather than be late, he invoked Christ, and making the sign of the cross, entered the oven himself and used his hands, and neither was he scorched while throwing out hot cinders, nor was his cowl singed. After this, the abbot and brethren consulting, forbade his engaging in servile work, and allotted him a suitable cell, so that he might apply his leisure to prayer and holy meditation. Thus, by degrees, William arrived at great perfection in every virtue. He predicted the day of his death, and when it occurred there was heard in the air a loud and strange tolling of bells, though no human hands touched them.
THE SWISS ABBEY OF EINSIEDELN AND ITS PILGRIMS (A.D.860).
The second most famous monastery in Switzerland is Einsiedeln, which rises high on an undulating plain, and was founded in the days of Charlemagne. A monk named Meinrad lived at that time, and had resolved to spend the rest of his life in the wilderness devoted to prayer and to the faithful guardianship of a little black image of the Virgin, which had been given to him by Hildegarde, the abbess of Zurich. In 861 this holy man was murdered by two robbers, who hoped to escape, but were pursued by two pet ravens of the saint, which flapped their wings and haunted them till the men reached Zurich, when notice was taken of the strange sight, and the men were convicted and executed. The fame of the ravens and the saint became published, and pilgrims and hermits flocked to the spot where the saint hadlived, and a Benedictine community built an abbey and church there. They got a bull of Pope Pius VIII., authorising the consecration of the church, and the bishop of Constance was about to proceed with the consecration, when, on the night before, he was aroused by sounds of angelic minstrels, and it was announced by a voice from heaven that there was no need to go on with the sacred rite, as it had already been consecrated by the powers of heaven and by the Saviour in person. The Pope was satisfied that this was a true miracle, and granted plenary indulgence to all pilgrims who should repair to this shrine of Our Lady of the Hermits. From that time, during nine centuries, there has been a constant series of pilgrimages, and the wealth of the monastery has grown immensely, the abbot being a prince of the Holy Roman Empire. The French, in 1798, stripped the chapel of its holy image; but the monks were equal to the occasion, and produced a duplicate, which they said was the original. Another attraction to pilgrims is a fountain with fourteen jets, from one of which it is believed the Saviour once drank. Here pilgrims and worshippers swarm, and rejoice in being near so hallowed a place.
ST. MEINRAD, A MONK OF THE ALPS (A.D.890).
This St. Meinrad, born about 863, when a young monk yearned to live alone on the serene heights of the Alps, and he fixed on Mount Etzell, about six miles from Lake Zurich. The pine forest behind, though frequented by wolves, did not deter him. He tore himself from his brethren, and with one pupil set out. He took nothing with him but his missal, a book of instructions on the Gospels, the rule of St. Benedict, and the works of Cassian. He fixed his eyes on the glittering pinnacles of ice and snow, and settled down in solemn silence, with nothing but the creaking of the pines and the chatter of the magpie within hearing. He made a little pine house interlaced with boughs, and a widow who entertained him at a half-way house built for him a little chapel and oratory. The mysterious noises of this lofty abode, and its grand panorama of shining realms and flitting colours, made his hut a constant pleasure. But pilgrims found him out and began to increase, so that he had to leave it and retire far into the forest. He took with him two young ravens to be the companions of his solitude. One day, after he had been some years enjoying perfect solitude, a carpenter in search of wood discovered his cell and gave him a present of a little statue of the Virgin, which became miraculous. Pilgrims found this out, and gave him presents till he was thought to be rich. Then two robbers murdered him; butowing to their being pursued by the ravens, they were suspected, then watched, and then convicted, as already stated.
CROYLAND ABBEY BURNED BY THE DANES (A.D.870).
In 870, the Danes having defeated the English near Croyland Abbey, the fugitives reaching that place and relating the news caused the greatest terror. The abbot and monks, confounded at the disaster, at once resolved to keep with them the elder monks and children in the abbey, in the hope of exciting pity, and to send off all the younger brethren with the relics and jewels and the body of St. Guthlac by water. Among their treasures was a large silver table, which, with some chalices, they threw into the well of the cloister; but the table was so long that it could not be concealed, and so had to be buried under ground. The younger monks carried off the rest of the property into the woods. Meanwhile the abbot and monks clothed themselves in their vestments, and entering the choir, chanted the services of the hours, and went through all the Psalms of David, after which the abbot himself said the High Mass. When the Mass was finished, and the abbot and attendants had communicated, the Danes burst into the church and slew the venerable abbot on the altar. The rest of the brethren in vain endeavoured to escape, and were put to the torture, so that they might reveal the place where the treasure was concealed. One little boy, aged ten, who was under the charge of the prior, seeing his patron about to be put to death, nobly entreated that he might be allowed to perish with him. Fortunately one of the Danish earls took a fancy to the boy and saved him. But all the monks were slain, and the brutal pirates broke into the tombs and monuments of saints in search of treasure. When disappointed, they collected all the dead bodies of their victims and set fire to the monastery, and all were consumed. Next day the Danes proceeded to Peterborough, and broke into the abbey, destroyed the altars and tombs, and burned the books and charters, reducing the whole to a heap of ashes, which smouldered for a fortnight.
NUNS OF COLDINGHAM CUTTING OFF THEIR NOSES (A.D.870).
During one of the marauding expeditions of the Danes in 870, when they fixed their headquarters at York and ravaged all the country round, brutally killing men, women, and children, the monks and nuns were especial objects of their fury, and all lived in terror of a visit. In Coldingham, an abbey in Yorkshire, the lady abbess, foreseeing, from the proximity of the enemy, that her own house would shortly be attacked, and valuing her honourmore than life itself, called the nuns into the chapter-house. There she made to them a touching address, setting forth the brutal passions of the Danes and their own imminent peril. All promised to listen to her advice and implicitly follow it. Upon this the abbess, seizing a knife, cut off with it her nose and upper lip, and the whole sisterhood immediately redeemed their promise by mutilating themselves in the same manner. The next day the Danish troops invaded the monastery, and seeing the horrible spectacle, recoiled from their victims and gave orders that the house should be fired. This command was immediately executed, and the abbey was burned to ashes, together with the abbess and nuns, who thus nobly suffered martyrdom rather than risk a worse fate.
THE MONKS OF CLUNY (A.D.909).
After the Council of Trosley in 909 expressed a resolution as to the disorderly life carried on in monasteries, where lay abbots, with wives and children, soldiers and dogs, occupied the cloisters of monks and nuns, some wealthy chiefs sought after new foundations. Duke William of Auvergne invited Berno, abbot of Beaune, to take charge of a new institution at Cluny. Berno began with twelve monks, and soon showed his skill in reforms. He required his monks at the end of meals to gather up and swallow all the crumbs of bread. This rule was complained of; but a dying monk one day exclaimed in horror that he saw the devil was holding up in accusation against him a bag of crumbs which he had been unwilling to swallow. This glimpse of the future terrified the other monks into submission. The monks of Cluny were also obliged to observe periods of perfect silence, and this was also complained of; for they dare not shout, even if they saw their horses stolen, or if they were seized and carried to prison by the Northmen. The monks were bled five times a year, as their only safeguard against disease; and when once two monks entreated the abbot to allow them to take some medicine, he told them angrily that they would never recover, and sure enough they died after taking it. Cluny soon obtained much reputation, and bred saints and attracted great wealth. Popes, kings, and emperors consulted the abbot as if he were an oracle. One abbot was called the “archangel of monks”; another, named Odilo, was called “King Odilo of Cluny.” To be the abbot of Cluny came to be a higher station than an archbishop or even a Pope. At the end of the twelfth century there were no less than two thousand monasteries affiliated with that of Cluny as head centre.
ST. DUNSTAN, MONK AND ARCHBISHOP (A.D.953).
Monastic life in England had been at a low ebb when St. Dunstan was born at Glastonbury, in Wiltshire, of noble parentage, in 925. He was an excellent musician, as well as a painter and worker in brass and iron, which accomplishments recommended him to the Court of King Edmund about 933. He was so ingenious that he was accused of magic arts; and it was an item of evidence against him that his harp, when hanging on the wall, twanged of itself. He was banished from Court, and lived for a time in a small cell at Glastonbury. One night the devil appeared to him in the shape of a beautiful woman; but he, knowing better, plucked a red-hot pair of tongs from the fire, and seized her or him by the nose till the fiend roared and bellowed. It was thought this legend was founded on the fact that a lady of wealth who greatly admired Dunstan made him her heir, and he built the abbey of Glastonbury with her money, and became the first abbot thereof. He built also other monasteries. After many reverses of his Court favour, he at length was made Bishop of Worcester, then of London, and next Archbishop of Canterbury; and he died and was buried there in 987, though his body was afterwards carried off clandestinely by the monks of Glastonbury to lie in their own abbey. On one occasion he is said to have gained a victory over his opponents by exhibiting a crucifix which spoke on his side; and another time, after arguments, he ended by committing the cause of the Church to God, and immediately the floor of the room fell where his enemies stood, while his own friends remained unharmed, owing to the firmness of the beam supporting their side.
THE MONKS OF ST. BERNARD (A.D.952).
The monastery of St. Bernard was founded about 962 by a famous saint of that name, at the head of a pass of the Alps, about 8,131 feet above the sea. It is a massive building and exposed to tremendous storms. The chief building accommodates eighty travellers, with stabling and storerooms. Here live a community devoted to works of benevolence, in a desolate region where seldom a week passes without a fall of snow, and which lies eight feet deep all the year round, and often more. No wood grows within two leagues, and all fuel is brought from a forest four leagues distant, and forty horses are kept to fetch it. Ten or twelve brethren are always on duty, for travellers pass nearly every day, notwithstanding all the perils; and five or six dogs arekept in the hospice. When a traveller reaches a certain house not far from the summit, a servant and dog issue from the monastery to conduct the stranger. The dog is the only guide, and nothing is seen of it except its tail, which directs the cavalcade. These dogs are a cross between the Newfoundland and the Pyrenean. This hospice soon became famous, and attracted many donations and grew wealthy. In 1480 it possessed ninety-eight benefices of the Church, and attained its greatest prosperity; but its resources are now greatly reduced.
A CHANCELLOR BECOMES A MONK (A.D.946).
About 946 Turketul, who had been chancellor to King Edward, as well as to his son Edmund and his other son Edred, had occasion to pass through Croyland, when three old monks invited him to stay overnight in that monastery. They took him to prayers, showed their relics, told their wants, and begged him to act as their advocate with the King. The hospitality of that night made a great impression on the chancellor, who expressed to the King his wish to go there and turn monk himself some early day. The King was amazed, yet could not thwart his faithful servant, and at last consented and fixed a day to accompany the new monk to his destination; and meanwhile the chancellor gave away all his manors to the King, giving one-tenth to the monastery. The day arrived, and also the King, and his old servant, who, after laying aside his lay habit and receiving the benediction of the bishop, became abbot of Croyland. Many learned men soon joined and became priests or monks in the same house. The abbot employed them in school-keeping, and made a point of going every day to inspect the progress of each pupil, taking with him a servant, who carried figs or raisins, nuts or walnuts, apples or pears, to distribute as rewards. Turketul made great improvements at Croyland during his rule, which continued till 975, and the monastery became wealthy and powerful. He presented a great bell to the monastery, called Guthlac, and it and some others, soon afterwards added, made up the best peal of bells in all England of that day. A great fire destroyed this famous monastery in 1091.
DEATHBED OF ABBOT TURKETUL, OF CROYLAND (A.D.975).
In 975 Abbot Turketul, of Croyland, caught a fever, and on the fourth day, lying on his bed, he assembled forty-seven monks and four lay brethren in his chamber, and called his steward tostate the position and treasures of the convent. There were numerous most precious relics, which the Emperor Henry and other kings and nobles, desiring to obtain the goodwill of Turketul, had bestowed upon him while he was chancellor. Among these he chiefly reverenced the thumb of the blessed Apostle Bartholomew (a gift of the Emperor), so that he always carried it about with him, and crossed himself with it in all perils and in storm or lightning. He greatly reverenced likewise some of the hairs of the holy mother of God, Mary, which the King of France had given him, enclosed in a golden box. Also a bone of St. Leodegarius, bishop and martyr, a gift of the Prince of Aquitaine, and many other relics. The steward also produced the whole of the gold and silver vessels, which he and the treasurer preserved entirely for the wants of the monastery. As the fever increased, Turketul communicated in the sacred mysteries of Christ, and embracing with both arms the cross which his attendants had brought from the church before the convent, he kissed it so frequently with many sighs, tears, and groans, and so devout were the sayings which he addressed to each of the wounds of Christ, that he excited to copious tears all the brethren who stood around him. On the day before his death he delivered a short discourse to his brethren who were present on the observance of order, on brotherly love, on guarding against negligence. He also, in a prophetic admonition, cautioned them thus: “Guard well your fire”—which some interpreted to mean love, and others the conflagration of the building, which afterwards actually took place. Then bidding them a last farewell, he from the bottom of his heart besought God for them all. And then the vital powers failed, and languor oppressed him till he passed from this world to the Father—from the toils of the abbey to Abraham’s bosom. He was buried in his own church which he had built from the foundations near the great altar in the sixty-eighth year of his age and the twenty-seventh of his monkhood. The great fire took place one hundred years later.
MONK NILUS AVOIDING SAINTHOOD (A.D.900-1005).
The monk Nilus, who was reputed to be the wisest man of his age, was grieved that his friend John, Archbishop of Placenza, should be so much inclined to meddle in politics, and warned him rather to retire from the world. John would not be warned, and was punished for joining a conspiracy against the Pope by having his eyes put out, his tongue cut off, and being cast into a dungeon. Nilus was so shocked at this news that he left his monastery nearGaeta and journeyed to Rome, and begged the Emperor then to let him join the archbishop, that they might do penance together for their sins. But the Pope and Emperor, instead of this, ordered further punishments for the archbishop. Nilus then told them both plainly that, as they had shown no mercy to the poor prisoner who had been committed to their hands, neither could they expect any mercy from the Heavenly Father for their own sins. The young Emperor Otho III. was rather pleased with his plain speaking, and invited Nilus to ask any other favour he pleased; but Nilus answered, “I have nothing to ask of you but the salvation of your own soul; for though you are an emperor, you must die like other men, and then must give account of your deeds, be they good or bad.” The Emperor on hearing this burst into tears, took the crown off his head, and begged the man of God to give him his blessing. When Nilus had reason to know that when he died the Governor of Gaeta intended to bring his body to Gaeta for public burial, and to preserve his bones as a patron saint to Gaeta, Nilus was shocked, and protested that he would rather let no one know where he would be buried. So in his old age he took leave of his monks and set off towards Rome, telling them, as they wept, that he was going to prepare a monastery where they should all meet once more. On reaching Tusculum, he rode into a small convent of St. Agatha, saying, “Here is my resting-place for ever.” He would not leave the spot, and charged the monks not to bury him in a church nor build any arch or monument over his grave; but if they wished some token, then to make it a resting-place for pilgrims, for he had been a pilgrim all his life.
THE MONK NILUS AS AN ADVISER (A.D.990).
The monk Nilus, who lived in the tenth century, was dedicated in his infancy to the service of God, and at an early age was delighted to read of the monks St. Antony and St. Hilarion and St. Simeon Stylites, and developed a turn for an ascetic life. This led to his being consulted by men of all ranks, who put to him puzzling questions. One day a noble, who lived a loose life, put some unbecoming queries, when a priest, to divert the conversation, asked Nilus of what kind was the forbidden fruit which Adam tasted in Paradise. Nilus answered, “A crab-apple.” Whereupon the party laughed. He then rebuked them. “Laugh not; such a question deserves such an answer. Moses has not told us precisely what tree it was: why should we wish to know what the Holy Scriptures have concealed?” Another day Niluswas visiting a castle, when he met a Jewish physician, who professed to fear that Nilus’s habits of fasting might bring on epileptic fits, and gave him a medicine that would save him from all diseases. Nilus only replied, “One of your own countrymen, a Hebrew, has told us that it is better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in man. We have a great Physician of our own—the Lord Jesus Christ; in Him we trust, and do not need your remedies.” Nilus was once sent for to advise a rich duchess who had incited her two sons to murder her nephew, and her conscience was ill at ease. The bishops had prescribed for her to repeat the Psalter three times a week and to give alms to the poor. But she could not rest till she took the advice of Nilus. After thinking a little he said to her, “Give one of your sons to the relations of the murdered man, to do with him what they please, for the Lord has said, ‘Whoso sheddeth man’s blood his blood shall be shed again.’” The widow said she could not do that, for they might kill her son. She then wept bitterly, and gave money to Nilus that he might purchase from God a forgiveness of her sins. This excited the anger of Nilus, who hurried away, determined to be no partaker in her sins.
THE MONASTERY OF BEC, FOUNDEDA.D.1034.
The chronicleBeccensethus describes the origin of the famous monastery of Bec: “In the year 1034 Herluinus, at the inspiration of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Author of all good things, casting aside the nobility of the world, for which he had been not a little conspicuous, having thrown off the girdle of military service, betook himself with entire devotion to the poverty of Christ, and that he might be free for the service of God alone, through the single love of God, assumed with great joy the habit of a monk. This man, who had been a passionate warrior, and who had gotten himself a great name and favour with Robert, the son of the second Richard, and with the lords of different foreign countries, first built a church on a farm of his, which was called Burnevilla. But because this place was on a plain and lacked water, being admonished in a dream by the Blessed Mother of God, he retired to a valley close to a river, which is called Bec, and there began to build a noble monastery to the honour of the same St. Mary, which God brought to perfection for the glory of His name, and to be the comfort and salvation of many men. To which Herluinus God, according to the desire of his heart, gave for his helpers and counsellors Lanfranc, a man every way accomplished in liberal acts; then Anselm, a man approved in allthings, a man affable in counsel, pitiful, chaste, sober in every clerical duty, wonderfully instructed—which two men through God’s grace were afterwards consecrated Archbishops of Canterbury. And to this same Bec, which began in the greatest poverty, so many and such great men, clerical as well as lay men, resorted, that it might fitly be said to the holy abbot, ‘With the riches of thy name hast thou made thy house drunk, and with the torrent of the wisdom of thy sons hast thou filled the world.’”
THE GREAT FIRE AT CROYLAND MONASTERY (A.D.1091).
Ingulph, abbot of Croyland, describes the fire of 1091 thus: “Our plumber, who had been employed on the tower of the church, one night, with fatal madness, covered his fire over with dead cinders, so that he might be more prepared to begin work next morning, and left for supper. Some hours after, when all were buried in slumber, and a strong north wind blowing, the inhabitants of the town, seeing great flames in the belfry, began to shout and batter at the gates. The clamour of the populace awoke me, and I could discern, as clear as noonday, the servants of the monastery shouting, wailing, and rushing hither and thither. As I rushed to the dormitory I was severely burnt with the drippings of molten lead and brass. I called and shouted to the brethren, still plunged in sleep, and on recognising my voice they leaped from their beds in terror in their nightdresses and half naked, many being wounded and maimed in the hurry of escape. I attempted to regain my own chamber to get the clothes which I had there, and distribute them in case of necessity. But the heat was so excessive and the streams of molten lead so copious that even the boldest of the young men dared not to enter. I then found that the infirmary had been caught with the flames, invincible in their fury; and even the green trees, ashes, oaks, and osiers, growing near, were scorched. The tower of the church soon fell on the southern side; and I, terrified at the crash, dropped upon the ground half dead in a swoon, and lay till I was rescued by my brethren. At dawn of day the brethren, weeping and depressed, some of them pitiably mangled in the limbs, performed in common Divine service with mournful voices and woful accents in the hall of our great master. After having fully completed the daily and nightly hours of Divine service, we proceeded to examine the state of the whole monastery. The fire still raged and destroyed the granary and stable. We searched the choir, which had been reduced to ashes, and found that all the books of the Divine service, both the antiphoners and graduals,had perished. Entering the vestry, we found that all our sacred vestments, the relics of the saints, and some other valuables there deposited, were uninjured by the fire. Some of the muniments in the charter room were shrivelled up by the heat; and our beautiful writings, ornamented with golden crosses, paintings, and ornamented letters, were destroyed in this night of blackness. Besides these our whole library, containing more than three hundred original volumes, besides the lesser volumes, numbering more than four hundred, perished. By that casualty we lost a very beautiful tablet, admirably constructed of every kind of metal to represent the various stars and signs of the zodiac, each of a different colour—a gift from the King of France to Turketul. Our dormitory, as also the necessary house, the infirmary, and washing house, the refectory and all its contents except a few dark-coloured cups, and the cross cup of the late King of the Mercians, were, together with the kitchens and all their contents, reduced to ashes. Our cellar and the very casks full of beer were destroyed. The abbot’s hall also, and his chamber, and the court of the monastery perished in the conflagration, the flames of which, burning as it were with Greek fury, overran them on all sides. A few of the huts of the almsmen, the feeding houses of our beasts of burden, and the sheds of the other animals, which were separated by stone walls, alone remained unburnt. This conflagration was prognosticated by many signs and portents. Repeated visions by night predicted it; all were understood after the occurrence of the fact. The words of our holy Father Turketul in his last moments, earnestly warning us to guard diligently our fire; the words of our blessed Father Ulfran, bidding me in a nightly vision at Fontenelle to preserve well the fire of the hospice and the three saints Guthlac, Neot, and Waldeve,—of all these plain warnings I now understand and recognise the meaning; but I do so unprofitably and too late. I now indulge in vain complainings, and pour forth those lamentations and inconsolable tears righteously exacted by my faults. Many nobles contributed to our wants, and in the long list of benefactors let not the sainted memory of a poor woman, Juliana of Weston, be forgotten, who gave us of her poverty her whole substance—namely, a great quantity of reels of cotton wherewith to sew the vestments of the brethren of our monastery.”
THE MONKS OF VALLOMBROSA (A.D.1039).
The constant desire to reform the ways of monks brought forward John Gualbert, a Florentine of noble birth. When a youthhe was ordered by his father to avenge a kinsman’s death; and meeting the murderer on Good Friday in a narrow pass, he was about to fall upon him and slay him, when suddenly the murderer threw himself from his horse and placed his arms in the form of a cross, as if expecting certain death. The avenger, however, in token of the holy sign and sacred day, spared him. Another time Gualbert halted to pay his devotions in the monastic church of St. Minian’s, near Florence, when he noticed that the crucifix inclined its head towards him. This turned his thoughts to holy things. He entered a monastery, and after ten years’ experience he resolved to found one of his own at Vallombrosa, in 1039. He drew together a society of hermits and cœnobites. But his great discovery was the introduction of lay brethren, whose business it was to practise handicrafts, and to manage the secular affairs of the community, while by these labours the monks were enabled to devote themselves wholly to spiritual contemplation. The system established was rigorous. A novice had to undergo a year’s probation, doing degrading work, such as keeping swine and daily cleaning out the pigsty with bare hands. The monks of Vallombrosa were attired in grey; but afterwards this was changed to brown, and then to black. Gualbert died in 1093.
A MONK WHO TRANSCRIBED HOLY BOOKS (A.D.1050).
Of all the incentives to monkish industry none excelled that used by Theodoric, abbot of St. Evroult, and statedante, p. 223. Another chronicler gives this version of the same: “One of the brethren in a certain convent was guilty of repeated transgressions of monastic rule, but was a good scribe, and so applied himself to writing that he copied of his own accord a bulky volume of the Holy Scriptures. After his death his soul was brought before the tribunal of the righteous Judge. There the evil spirits sharply accused him, and laid to his charge innumerable offences. On the other hand, the holy angels produced the volume which the brother had transcribed in the sanctuary of the Lord, counting letter for letter of the enormous volume against the sins the monk had committed. At last the letters had a majority of one, against which all the devices of the devils could discover nothing as a set-off. The mercy of the Judge was therefore extended to the sinful brother, and his soul was permitted to return to his body, in order that he might enjoy an opportunity of amending his life. Ponder well, then, my dearly beloved brethren, and shun sloth as a deadly poison. Remember what an eminent Father once said—that only a single evil spirit vexes with his wilesthe monk who is laboriously occupied, while a thousand devils infest the idler, and provoke him by manifold temptations on every side, causing him to hanker after the soul-destroying vanities of the world, and after indulgence in fatal delights. You have not the means to feed the poor or build stately churches, but you can pray that the avenues to your hearts may be guarded. Pray, read, chant, write; be instant in occupations of a like kind; and you will prudently arm yourselves against the temptations of evil spirits.”
A MONK AN ACCOMPLISHED MUSICIAN (A.D.1063).
Among the monks of St. Evroult, a monk named Witmund, about 1063, was an accomplished musician as well as grammarian, of which he left evidence in the antiphons and responses which he composed, consisting of some charming melodies in the antiphonary and collection of versicles. He completed the history of the Life of St. Evroult by adding nine antiphons and three responses. He composed four antiphons to the psalms at vespers, and added the three last for the second nocturn with the fourth, eighth, and twelfth response, and an antiphon at the canticle, and produced a most beautiful antiphon for the canticle, at the Gospel in the second vespers. The history of the Life of St. Evroult, composed for the use of the monks, was first recited by two young monks, Hubert and Rodolph, sent for that purpose by the abbot of Chartres. Afterwards Reginald the Bald composed the response “To the glory of God,” sung at vespers with seven antiphons, which still appeared in 1063 in the service books of the monks of St. Evroult. Roger de Sap also and other studious brethren produced with pious devotion several hymns, having the same holy Father for their subject, and which they placed in the library of the abbey for the use of their successors.
THE TRAINING OF A MONK BISHOP (A.D.1062).
In 1062 Wulfstan was made Bishop of Worcester. His parents devoted him to a religious life from his childhood, and he took the monastic habit in the monastery at Worcester. He quickly became remarkable for his vigils, his fastings, his prayers, and all kinds of virtues, and was soon made master and tutor of the novices, and then precentor and treasurer of the church. Having these opportunities and devoting himself wholly to a life of contemplation, he resorted to it day and night, either for prayer or holy reading, and assiduously mortified his body by fasting fortwo or three days together. He was so addicted to devout vigils that he not only spent the nights sleepless, but often the day and night together, and sometimes went for four days and nights without sleep—a thing we could hardly have believed if we (says Orderic) had not heard it from his own mouth—so that he ran great risk from his brains being parched, unless he hastened to satisfy the demands of nature by the refreshment of sleep. Even at last, when the urgent claims of nature compelled him to yield to sleep, he did not indulge himself by stretching his limbs to rest on a bed or couch, but would lie down for a while on one of the benches in the church, resting his head on the book which he had used for praying and reading. After some time this reverend man was appointed prior and father of the convent, an office which he worthily filled, by no means abating the strictness of his previous habits, but rather increasing it in many respects, in order to afford a good example to others. When, after the lapse of some years, he was named for the office of bishop, though at first he declared with an oath that he would rather submit to lose his head than be advanced to so high a dignity, he at last yielded to the general desire.
THE MONK ABELARD AND THE NUN HELOÏSE (A.D.1079-1164).
The monk Abelard, or Master Peter, was twelve years the senior of Bernard, of noble family, haughty in manner, singularly handsome, and dressed to great advantage. He had a commanding intellect, and became a teacher of renown, being followed by crowds of admirers. His success intoxicated him, and he gave way to pleasure. He was said to have been a tutor to a niece of a Canon Fulbert, named Heloïse, and their intimacy led to an unconquerable love, since celebrated by all the poets. They were at last secretly married, and after being covered with reproaches from relatives, were separated, he seeking refuge in the abbey of St. Denis, and Heloïse becoming a nun at Argenteuil, and afterwards a prioress in Troyes district. Abelard was dogged by enemies, charged with heresy, and he became a hermit on the banks of the Ardusson, near Troyes. Yet wherever he was, his magnetic power drew the crowd after him, and he had again to escape to a monastery of St. Gildas on the coast of Brittany, where, however, the morals of the fraternity were very loose. At intervals he and Heloïse met and corresponded, and their constancy was well known. Abelard’s views relating to the Trinity, which he expounded with extraordinary ingenuity and power,roused the enmity of the orthodox Bernard, who challenged him to a public discussion at Sens. These two men were the ablest theologians of their day, and the approaching contest excited extraordinary interest in the civilised world; the king, and bishops, and abbots, and grandees watched keenly the stages of the meeting. After, however, Bernard had begun to attack the heretical book, Abelard abruptly left the meeting, saying that he preferred to appeal to Rome. Abelard ended his days in pious exercises in the monastery of Cluny.
ABELARD AND ST. BERNARD IN CONTROVERSY.
This public discussion as to orthodox doctrines so eagerly looked forward to between Abelard and St. Bernard, and which ended so abortively, was described by Abelard’s disciple Berenger in a letter somewhat satirically. He describes Bernard as a mere idol of the crowd—gifted with a plentiful flow of words, but destitute of liberal culture and of solid abilities—one who, by the solemnity of his manner, imposed the merest truisms on his followers as if they were profound oracles. He ridicules Bernard’s reputation as a worker of miracles; hints that his proceedings against Abelard were prompted by a spirit of bigotry, jealousy, and vindictiveness, rendered more odious by his professions of sanctity and charity. Of the opinions imputed to his master, he maintains that some were never held by Abelard, and the rest, if rightly interpreted, were true and Catholic. The book of Abelard, he says, had been brought up for consideration at Sens when the bishops had dined, and it was then read amidst jests and laughter while the wine was doing its work in their brains. Any expression above the reach of their understanding excited their rage and curses against Abelard. As the reading went on, one after another succumbed to sleep, and when the question was put to them they answered without being able to articulate a word. The council reported their condemnation of Abelard’s doctrines, and requested Abelard to be interdicted from teaching. Bernard also used his influence with the Pope, who, without even calling on Abelard for explanations, ordered him to be shut up in a monastery; and it was there that the abbot of Cluny offered an asylum, in which Abelard ended his days.
ABELARD’S LAST DAYS IN CLUNY (A.D.1142).
After Abelard died a monk in Cluny, the lord abbot of Cluny gave this account of him to Heloïse: “I write of that servantand true philosopher of Christ, Master Peter, whom the Divine dispensation sent to Cluny in the last days of his life. A long letter would not unfold the humility and devotion of his conversation while among us. When at my order he took a high place in our large company, he always appeared the least of all by the meanness of his attire. In the processions, when he with the others preceded me, I wondered, nay, I was well-nigh confounded, to see so famous a man able so to despise and abase himself. He was so sparing in his food, in his drink, in all that related to his body, as in his dress; and he so condemned both in himself and others, both by word and deed, I do not say superfluities, but all save the merest necessaries. He read continually; he prayed frequently; he was silent always, unless the conversation of the monks, or a public discourse in the convent, addressed to them, urged him to speak. What more shall I say? His mind, his tongue, his work, always meditated, taught, or confessed philosophical, learned, or Divine things. A man simple and upright, fearing God and eschewing evil—in this conversation for a time he consecrated his life to God. In the exercise of all holy works, the advent of the Divine visitor found him, not sleeping, as it does many, but on the watch. When his end came, how faithfully he commended his body and soul to Him here and in eternity, the religious brethren are witnesses, and the whole congregation of that monastery. Thus Master Peter finished his days.”
THE ORDER OF CARTHUSIANS (A.D.1084).
The popular legend as to the origin of the order of Carthusians is, that about 1084 one Bruno, a native of Cologne, and master of the cathedral school of Rheims, was anxious to escape from a domineering archbishop, whose favourite saying was, “The archbishopric of Rheims would be a fine thing, if one had not to sing masses for it.” Bruno one day, being in Paris, witnessed the funeral procession of a very pious and learned doctor, and while on its way to the grave the corpse raised itself from the bier and exclaimed, “By God’s righteous judgment I am judged.” This so horrified the company that the ceremony was postponed to next day. But next day the same thing happened, and again on a third day, the mournful tone of the dead man shocking every listener. Bruno was so overcome with a sense of the vanity of all earthly things that he resolved to retire into some solitude. A bishop of Grenoble advised him to choose the rocky woods of Chartreuse, and to that place he and six companions retired.They wore goatskins, and lived on the most meagre fare. They spoke only on Sundays and festivals, and underwent a weekly flagellation. But by their rules no one was to impose any extraordinary austerity on himself without the leave of the prior. The community at first consisted of hermits and cœnobites. They contrived soon to acquire a good library, and they excelled in transcribing and literary labours. After six years Bruno was invited by the Pope to Rome; but he grew weary of city life, and founded a second Chartreuse. The order of Carthusians gradually flourished; but their rule was too rigid for females; their habits were less prone to luxury than those of other orders. Yet the convents in the seventeenth century were said to be reduced to five.
THE ORDER OF THE CISTERCIANS (A.D.1098).
About 1098, one Robert, the son of a noble in Champagne, having entered a monastery, and finding the rule too lax for his tastes, went, with twenty companions, to Cistercium or Citeaux, a lonely wood near Dijon, where they settled and built a monastery. The third abbot was Stephen Harding, an Englishman, who framed the rules of their order. Their dress was white; they were to avoid pomp and luxury and refuse all gifts. From September to Easter they were to eat only one meal daily. The monks were to give themselves to spiritual employments, and instead of slaves they hired servants to assist in labour. The white dress, being a novelty in France, gave offence and caused rivalry to other orders, who wore black, the white being deemed a badge of overweening self-righteousness. The order of Citeaux acquired great celebrity by producing St. Bernard, its most famous member. The mode of government resembled the aristocratic rather than the monarchical, the affiliated monasteries joining in the election of abbot. One remarkable feature of the rule was the holding of an annual general chapter, at which every abbot of the order was imperatively required to attend. This meeting helped to keep the branch societies in harmony. The order spread very rapidly, and in 1151 was said to consist of five hundred monasteries. Until the rise of the mendicant orders, the Cistercians were the most popular of the orders, and grew rich.
ST. BERNARD AS A YOUNG MONK (A.D.1100).
St. Bernard, perhaps the most influential of all monks, was born in 1071, had great beauty of person, charming manner, and a facile eloquence, which gave him an early ascendency. Themonastery at Citeaux, near Dijon, had been founded fifteen years, when, at the age of twenty-two, he felt a yearning to join the company. One Stephen Harding, an Englishman, was the abbot, and kept the whole of St. Bernard’s rule literally. They had one meal a day, and never tasted meat, fish, grease, or eggs, and even milk only rarely. When Bernard entered, a scarcity bordering on famine was felt there. The rule of the house then was as follows: At two in the morning the great bell was rung, and the monks rose and hastened from their dormitory, along the dark cloisters, in solemn silence, to the church. A single small lamp suspended from the roof gave a glimmering light. After short private prayer they began matins, which lasted two hours. The next service was lauds, at the first glimmer of dawn. During the interval the monk’s time was his own. He went to the cloister, and employed the time in reading, writing, or meditation. He then devoted himself to various religious exercises till nine, and next went forth to work in the fields. At two they dined; at nightfall they assembled to vespers; and at six or eight, according to the season, finished the day with complin, and passed at once to the dormitory. Bernard took to these austerities with great enthusiasm. He used to say that whatever knowledge he had of the Scriptures he had acquired chiefly in the woods and fields, and that the beeches and oaks had been his best teachers in the Word of God. He said cities to him were like a prison, and solitude was a paradise.
ST. BERNARD AS ABBOT.
St. Bernard, the son of a noble in Burgundy, as already stated, soon displayed a genius for self-mortification as a Cistercian monk. He was so self-concentred that, when he had walked a whole day on the banks of Lausanne Lake, he never noticed that there was any lake at all. Once he borrowed a horse for a journey, but never noticed what sort of bridle it had. He had such a reputation for learning and piety that many potentates referred their differences to him, and Bolingbroke said that the cell of Bernard was a scene of as much intrigue as the court of the Emperor. He said of Abelard that he knew everything that is in heaven and earth but himself. Bernard died at sixty-three, and was buried at Clairvaux in 1153. He said many men know many things—measure the heavens, count the stars, dive into the secrets of Nature—but know not themselves.
ST BERNARD’S MIRACLES.
The biographers and chroniclers ascribe abundant miracles toSt. Bernard. A boy with an ulcer in his foot begged the holy man to touch and bless him, and the sign of the cross was made and the lame was healed. Once a knight had been suffering from a quartan fever for eighteen months, and used to foam at the mouth and lie unconscious; but Bernard cured him instantly with a piece of consecrated bread. Young Walter of Montmirail, when three months old, was brought by his mother to be blessed; the conscious child clutched at Bernard’s hand and kissed it. Once an incredible number of flies filled the church at Foigny at the time of its dedication, and their noise and buzzing were an intolerable nuisance; but the saint merely said, “I excommunicate them,” and next morning they were all dead, and had to be shovelled out with spades. On another occasion, as Bernard was returning from Chalons, the wind and rain and cold were fierce, and one of the company by some accident lost his horse, which scampered away over the plain. Bernard said, “Let us pray,” and they were scarcely able to finish the Lord’s Prayer before the horse came back tame and mild, stood before Bernard, and was restored to its owner.
THE MONK BERNARD AND HIS FASHIONABLE SISTER.
St. Bernard had at an early age converted his brothers and made monks of them; but he had a sister, Humbeline, who showed no enthusiasm for a nunnery. She married a man of rank and affluence, and did her part in the gay world. One day she thought she would like to go and visit her brothers in the monastery, and with great pomp and retinue she drove to the gates of Clairvaux and asked to see Bernard. But he, “detesting and execrating her as a net of the devil to catch souls,” refused to go out and meet her. Her brother Andrew, whom she encountered at the gate, also treated her with harshness, and observed with unbecoming contempt upon her fine apparel. She burst into tears at this coldness, and at last exclaimed, “And what if I am a sinner? It is for such that Christ died! It is because I am one that I need the advice and conversation of godly men. If my brother despises my body, let not a servant of the Lord despise my soul. Let him come and command: I am ready to obey.” This speech brought out Bernard, who ordered her to imitate her saintly mother: to renounce the luxuries and vanities of the world, to lay aside her fine clothes, and to become a nun inwardly even if she could not assume the outward appearance. The sister went home, thought over all this, and ended by coming round to Bernard’s views. She astonished her friends and neighbours by the sudden change inher ways of life. Her fastings, prayers, and vigils showed that she also had a turn for the monastic life. She got permission from her husband and retired to the convent of Juilly, where she emulated his austere devotion, and became worthy of such a brother as Bernard.
ST. BERNARD AND HIS RIVAL, PETER THE VENERABLE.
A rivalry sprang up between the monks of Cluny and those of Citeaux, the white dress of the latter causing much bitterness to those in black. Bernard of Clairvaux was the champion of the Cistercians, and Peter of the Cluniacs. Bernard blamed the Cluniacs for their luxury and secular habits. He said many of the monks, though young and vigorous, pretended sickness, that they might be allowed to eat flesh. Those who abstained from flesh indulged their palate without stint in exquisite cookery; while, in order to provoke the appetite, they drank largely of the strongest and most fragrant wines, which were often rendered more stimulating by spices. At table, instead of grave silence, light worldly gossip, jests, and idle laughter prevailed. The Cluniacs had coverlets of fur or of rich and variegated materials for their beds. They dressed themselves in the costliest furs, silk, and cloth, fit for robes of princes. Even the stuff for a cowl was chosen with feminine and fastidious care. This excessive care for the body betokened a want of mental culture. Even the mode of worship and magnificence of the churches were excessive in splendour. The churches were elaborately adorned and the poor were neglected. There were pictures and monstrous and grotesque carvings in the walls, wholly unsuited to sacred worship and apt to distract the mind. The chandeliers and candlesticks were of gold and silver and set with jewels; the pavements were inlaid with figures of saints and angels, whose character was thereby degraded. The golden shrines containing relics seemed only to flatter the wealthy and allure them into opening their purse-strings. These abbots travelled at home with a pomp and retinue of sixty horses, only suited to distant undertakings of great pith and moment. All these unseemly practices cried aloud for redress.