SAMT EDMUND OF ABINGDON ^^^picisciS.Heinti^e^^b^M LIFE OF ST. EDMUND OF ABIKGDOK LIFE OF ST. EDMUND OF ABINGDON ARCHBISHOP OF CANTEEBUEY TRANCES DE PARAVICINI ADTHOi OP "THE BAKLT mSTOBY OP BALUOL OOLLESE ' LONDON: BUENS & OATES, Limited NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, CHICAGO : BENZIGER BROTHERS 1898 PEEFACE This small volume needs but few words of Preface. My deep love and veneration for our Oxford Saiut has made the telling of his Life a work of joy. And I wish to express my real gratitude to the several friends who have most kindly written for me the translations from the Latin manuscripts, and from the Chronicles. I felt strongly that the actual statements of contemporary writers — in most cases men who knew St. Edmund intimately — would add greatly to the value of this book. But my aim, in tracing the histories of the manuscripts, and select ing the passages which would best illustrate the Saint's Life, would have been very inadequately attained without the aid, so generously given, of those friends who have been always ready to trans late into English the curious, and often involved, Latin. For their kiudness in thus helping me I offer them my sincere thanks. FEANCES DE PAEAVICINL OXFOKD, October 1898. CONTENTS Thb Eaely Manuscript Lives op Saint Edmund ov Abingdon xiii CHAPTER I St. Edmund — Abingdon — The foundation of the monastery — The Eich family — The house in which St. Edmund was born — Reinald Rich — Mabel Rich — Her death — Her tomb ....... .... 1-20 CHAPTER II Birth of St. Edmund — Early childhood — The monastery at Abingdon — St. Edmund sent to a school in Oxford — The grammar schools — The grammarians — St. Edmund at Oxford — He betroths himself to the Blessed Virgin . 21-38 CHAPTER III The Lord Jesus, in the Form of an Infant, appears to St. Edmund — St. Edmund sent to Paris — His return to Abingdon — His mother's death — His sisters placed at Catesby — He goes again to Paris — His doctor's degree 39-59 CHAPTER IV Medieval Oxford — The Palace of the Beaumonts — Eoyal visits to Oxford — St. Edmund in Oxford — His School — His friends and pupUs — Eobert Eich — Robert Bacon — Richard of Dunstable — Sewal, Archbishop of York — Stephen of Lexinton — And others 60-7S vm CONTENTS CHAPTER V St. Edmund, the Oxford teacher — Medieval scholasticism— The new Aristotle— St. Edmund, the preacher— His chapel at Oxford— His gift to St. John Baptist's Hospital . 79-92 CHAPTER VI The Saint's great faithfulness— His individuality— Other anec dotes of his life at Oxford— Letter from the monks of Abingdon — Letter from the University of Oxford . 93-107 CHAPTER VII Old English cathedrals, and English saints — St. Headda — St. Frideswide— St. Cuthbert— St. Hugh— St. Aldhehn— St. Osmund — The " Sarum Use " — Bishop Richard Poor — The new cathedral at Salisbury — St. Edmund at Salisbury — His duties as treasurer — The " ornamenta " — St. Edmund deputed by the Pope to preach the crusade — Miracles — Importance of the crusade 108-133 CHAPTER VIII William Longsword, Earl of Salisbury — Countess Ela — The earl's conversion — His death — The monastery at Hinton — Lay cock Abbey — Calne — Edmund's generosity — Stephen of Lexinton — The monastery at Stanley — Bishop Poor translated to Durham — Edmund's name in the Sarum register — Edmund is elected to the see of Canter bury 134-154 CHAPTER IX Canterbury Cathedral — Early Christian missionaries to Britain — St. Joseph of Arimathea — St. Augustine — St. Augustine's Monastery — The first Archbishops of Canterbury — St. Dunstan — St. .ffilfeah — Lanfranc — St. Anselm — St. Thomas — St. Edmund 15S-167 CONTENTS IX CHAPTER X PAGE Coronation of Henry III.— His minority— Hubert de Burgh- Peter des Eoches— Tallage of the clergy— Robert Bacon speaks against the Poitevin bishop — The bishops warn the king — Edmund speaks to the king in Parliament— The king relents, and dismisses his counsellors — Edmund is sent into Wales, to secure peace with Llewellyn . 168-183 CHAPTER XI The death of the Earl Mareschal— The archbishop obtains a further truce for Llewellyn and his adherents — The parliament at Gloucester — The king's penitence — The meeting at Westminster — The archbishop secures pardon for the fallen counsellors— His interview with the king at Woodstock — Edmund's work as archbishop — His charity, humility, and industry 184-199 CHAPTER XII Letter from Pope Gregory IX. — The king marries Alienor of Provence — The queen crowned at Westminster — The royal banquet — William of Valence — CouncU at Merton Abbey — Foreign influence — Parliament at Winchester — Parliament at Westminster — The king needs money — The archbishop agrees to grant a thirtieth — The king confirms Magna Charta — The legate — The archbishop and the monks — The legate visits Canterbury, and speaks to the monks — The archbishop's Provincial Constitutions . 200-222 CHAPTER XIII The archbishop endeavours to establish peace in the monas tery — He visits Rome — The monks break their agreement — 'The archbishop returns to England — Simon de Mont- fort— The archbishop decides to leave England . 223-242 X CONTENTS CHAPTER XIV PAGE St. Edmund leaves England— Queen Blanche meets him at Senlis — He arrives at Pontigny — His life at Pontigny — Specuhtm Ecdesie — St. Edmund becomes very ill — He is removed to Soissy — His last illness — His death — His body is brought back to Pontigny 243-263 CHAPTER XV St. Edmund's ring — His burial — Miracles cease — The Arch bishop of Sens visits Pontigny — First translation of the relics — The Saint's canonisation — The formal translation of the relics — Letter from Richard de la Wych — The new shrine, and second formal translation of the relics — Chapels built in England — The lasting effect of St. Edmund's life 264-285 The Mieaclbs at St. Edmund's Sheinb at Pontigny 286-290 LIST OF REFEEENCES Addit. MS. Annales . Annales Monast. Ang. Sac. . . A.-S. Chron. BaU. Coll. MS. Bygone Oxford Calendar . . C. C. C. MS. . . Chron. Mon. Ab. Chron. of Eng. . Chron. de Lan. Chron. Mon. de Melsa. Cot. MS Echard Epist. Conv. Aben. . Epist. Univ. Oxoniae Fell MS. . . Hist. Angl. . Hist. Glaston , Additional Collection MS. 1 5,264. British Museum. , Annales sex regum Angliae. Trivet. English Historical Society. Annales Monaatioi. Rolls Series. Anglia Sacra. Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. Rolls Series. Balliol CoUege MS. 226. A Bygone Oxford. Francis Goldie. First edition. Calendar. Letters and Papers. Henry VIII. Rolls Series. Corpus Christi College MS. 154 (Oxford). Chronicon Monasterii de Abingdon. Rolls Series. Chronicle of England. Capgrave. Rolls Series. Chronicon de Lanercost. Maitland Club. Chronica Monasterii de Melsa. Rolls Series. Cotton MS. Julius D. vi. British Museum. Scriptores Ordinis Praedicatorum. Quetif and Echard. Printed in Appendix ad Johannis de Fordun Sootichronicon. Printed in Thesaurus Novus Anecdo- torum. Fell, MS. 2. Bodleian Library. Historia Anglorum. Rolls Series. Historia de rebus Gestis Glastoniensibus. Ed. Tho. Hearne. xu LIST OF REFERENCES H. 8. Eng. Monast. Historical Sketches Hist. Univ. Oxford Hist. Univ. Par. . Les Ecoles Episc. . Lives of Saints . . Martfene .... Matt. Paris Monasticon . . . Notit. Monast. . . Old and New Sarum Orig. Letters . . Paroc. Antiq. . . Regist. S. Osm. Rites of Durham . R. Let. . . . Ro. Bre. . . . Saints of Wessex . Scotichron . . . Surius . . Univ. Camb. Vita S. Cuthberti . Vita S. Richardi , Wood, MS. . . Henry VIII. and the English Monasteries. F. A. Gasquet. Historical Sketches. J. H. Newman. First Series. History of the University of Oxford. Maxwell Lyte. Historia Universitatis Parisiensis. C. E. du Boulay. Les Ecoles Episcopales et Monastiques. Leon Maitre. Lives of the Saints. Alban Butler. Thesaurus Novus Anecdotorum. Martfene et Durand. Chronica Majora. RoUs Series. By Roger of Wendover to the year 1235. Con tinued by Matthew Paris. Monasticon. Dugdale. Notitia Monastica. Tanner, ed. Nasmith. History of Modern Wiltshire. Old and New Sarum. Henry Hatcher. Original Letters. Sir Henry Ellis. Parochial Antiquities. White Kennett. Register of St. Osmund. Rolls Series. Rites of Durham. Surtees Society. . Royal Letters. Henry III. Rolls Series. Roman Breviary. Saints of Wessex and Wiltshire. Francis Goldie. Appendix ad Johannis de Fordun Scoti- chronicon. . De Vitis Sanctorum. Laurentius Surius. . The University of Cambridge. J. B. MuUinger. Vita S. Cuthberti. Surtees Society. Acta Sanctorum. . Antony h Wood. Original MS. F. 38 Bodleian Library. THE EARLY MANUSCRIPT LIVES SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON Saint Edmund of Abingdon died at Soissy, on November i6, 1240. In the course of the following thirteen years four different Lives of the Saint were written. One Life was written by his brother Robert, who had been his faithful companion from the day when, as young boys, they left the home at Abingdon to journey together to the University of Paris. Robert never left Edmund; but was with him, or near to him, through all his life. He went with his brother into exile, and was with him when he died. And, after his death, Robert wrote a Life of the Saint, , which came to be a well-known work in France. Bertrand, who was St. Edmund's chamberlain, and who also went into exile with him, wrote another Life, in obedience to the command of the Abbot of the monastery at Pontigny, after St. Edmund's death ; and this Life is said to have been written before the year 1247. Robert Bacon, who was the Saint's most intimate XIV EARLY MANUSCRIPT LIVES OF friend and constant companion in the days when they both were teachers at Oxford, also wrote his Life. It was probably a short work, treating chiefly of the years spent at Oxford. And there was a Life, written by Matthew Paris, who himself tells us of it in the Chronica Majora. But this Life is supposed to be lost. Sir Thomas Duffus Hardy speaks of it as " riot now known to exist " ; and Luard, in his edition of the Chronicle, says that it " is not known to exist at present." And there were other Lives of the Saint : some very short ; some only dwelling on part of his life ; and some of minor importance. I wish to speak especially about the four manu scripts from which I have chiefly gathered the materials for this Life, and from which I have given translations. Three of these manuscripts are in handwriting of middle thirteenth century; and, there fore, must have been written almost immediately after the Saint's death. The fourth is in a later handwrit ing, probably about the year 1 3 lo ; but it is obviously a copy of an earlier manuscript. They are — I. M.S. 154. P- 375> belonging to Corpus Christi College, Oxford. 2. MS. 226, f. 48, belonging to Balliol CoEege, Oxford. 3. M.S. 15,264, f. 87. Additional Collection. British Museum. 4. Cotton M.S., Julius D. vi. f. 123. British Museum. SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON XV Of these the Corpus Christi MS. is the only one which gives the author's name; or, rather, the names of the four authors. It, together with other manuscripts, is in a small quarto volume, bound in wood covered with parchment, and tied with two sets of linen strings. The handwriting, which is that of an English scribe, is of the middle of the thirteenth century. It is small writing, in double columns, badly and uncertainly contracted, and the words have "been written so closely together that it is sometimes difficult, in reading, to divide them. The narrative is the testimony of four men, who knew St. Edmund intimately, and for many years ; and they write about his life of prayer, work, and penance, and of his holy death. The first writer, Richard of Dunstable, Prior of the Dominican House at Oxford, tells us — " There, that my testimony may seem to you as trustworthy as possible, lo ! with my hand on the Gospels, I swear to you in the Lord, that all the foregoing, and much more that might well be related concerning the time above mentioned, I have both seen and heard. And this I say, giving a liberal interpretation to each single detail ; that is, in the sense which they are intended to bear, and not in a sense which by rigid interpretation they might bear. And to testify to this oath, which in the absence of my superiors (who, however, in the plenitude of their power have appointed me mean while to be their universal vicegerent in everything) I have made before Brother J. de Monte MirabUi, b XVI EARLY MANUSCRIPT LIVES OF and certain other brethren, I have appended, in the presence of the said brethren, our common seal, having asked and obtained leave from om: Paris Convent. Dom Robert of Asthall, the bearer, and his two attendants, Andrew and Walter, are witnesses to these proceedings. To them I commit the power of swearing on their souls to the aforesaid, if required, after the manner in which I have sworn in their presence." ^ The Corpus Christi MS. cannot be the original document, as it has never had any seal attached to it. The small size of the parchment, and the double column writing, show that it was intended to form part of a volume. We may conclude that it is a copy of the original document, kept at Oxford, and probably at the Dominican House. I have not been able to trace its history, nor how it came to Corpus Christi Library ; but it may have been one of the manuscripts given to that Library when the College was founded ; or, more probably, it may have been bought for the College when the Dominican and Franciscan Friaries were demolished, and their Lib raries sold. The original document was, apparently, sent to Rome. The Balliol College MS. is one of the many rare and valuable manuscripts which were given to the College Library by William Gray, Bishop of Ely, about the year 1478. With the exception of a few verbal variations, the narrative is the same as the 1 a a 0. MS., p. 377. SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON xvu Lambeth MS. 135, f. 118, which has never been printed, but is a well-known authority for the Life of St. Edmund. The Balliol MS. is in perfect pre servation, as fresh and as clean as if only written yesterday. It is on vellum, and is bound, together with other MSS., in thick boards covered with rough brown leather ; a folio volume. The writing is the large, regular, bold handwriting of about 1250. In the Balliol MS. the headings of the chapters are in red ink, and by the same hand. With the exception of a rubric at the beginning, and a large illuminated capital letter, the Lambeth MS. is not rubricated ; but spaces were left by the scribe for the headings of chapters, and the headings have been added in black ink, and in a later handwriting. The narrative of the Lambeth MS., and, therefore, of the Balliol MS., is said to be by Bertrand, a monk of Pontigny. We have the authority of Carolus de Visch that — " Bertrand, a rehgious of Pontigny, a learned and eloquent man, in the year of the Lord 1247, wrote (by order of his Abbot, John) a famous history of the Life and the Miracles of St. Edmund, Arch bishop of Canterbury, which is found in manuscript at Carolilocus. From this history the lessons are taken, which (by the authorisation of the General Chapter) are read in all the Abbeys belonging to the Congregation of Pontigny, in the Divine Office of the same Saint." ^ ' Bib. Scrip., p. 52. xvm EARLY MANUSCRIPT LIVES OF The document here spoken of may have been the original manuscript written by Bertrand. The fact that the headings of the chapters in the Lambeth MS. have been added in a much later handwriting than the narrative, points to the conclusion that the Lambeth MS. is a transcript. Mart^ne, in the Thesaurus Novus Anecdotorum, speaks of a manuscript by Bertrand, in the Lam beth Library. But his chief authority seems to be Wharton who, writing about St. Edmund, mentions " a monk of Pontigny, who carefully wrote down his Life between the years 1240 and 1247, a manuscript in the Lambeth Library." ^ Tradition has always attributed this narrative to Bertrand. Bertrand was St. Edmund's chamberlain, and in this Life is the account of the Saint confiding to his chamberlain the reason why he signed his forehead every night with the holy name of Jesus. The words are — " The youth, Edmund, advancing in age and wis dom before God and men, committed to his faithful memory the words of the Lord, which are sweeter than honey and the honeycomb : and that Name of Benediction, in which he who is to be blessed on earth shall be blessed in the Lord, he carefully wrote on his forehead every night, as he beareth witness who saw and writeth these things. And we know that his testimony is true. For as one night, as beseemeth a room-mate, he was in his room, and ' Ang. Sac, i. p. 11. SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON xix saw him ever writing that glorious Name on his forehead, as he had often before beheld him, he (being as he was a man of deep humility) turned to him, saying, ' See that every night thou writest on thy forehead ere thou sleepest, Jesus of Nazareth' Hearing this, he gratefully adopted such saving advice : and now being informed concerning the account of the event of which he had already heard, he could no longer doubt of its truth, especially as that which he had heard from worthy men, and beheld with the evidence of his eyes, he now heard from his own lips." ^ The other evidence for it being the LAfe by Bert rand, rather than the Life by Robert Rich, or Robert Bacon, is more negative than positive. The author never speaks as an eye-witness of any of the facts connected with the Saint's early days, or his life at Oxford. There never occurs a sentence like the " Et sicut michi retulit magister Edmundus," and the "Hoc mihi ipse retulit," of Robert Bacon's narra tive ;^ or the " quedam ex hiis que uidi et audiui . . ." of the Fell MS. ; ^ or the " Multa quidem et alia in eo uidi et de eo audiui et ab eo in me expertus sum . . ." of Brother Robert the Priest.* Nor is there much detail about the Rich family, or the home at Abingdon. All such history is meagre, and somewhat vaguely given, as by one who was not well acquainted with it ; though the many remark- 1 Batt. Coll. MS., f. 49. 2 Cot. MS., f. 136. = Fell MS., 2, p. I. ^ C. 0. 0. MS., p. 380. XX EARLY MANUSCRIPT LIVES OF able miracles connected with St. Edmund's preach ing are carefully enumerated, those being facts which were well known, and much talked about. There is one instance, in this manuscript, of the author speaking of himself as an eye-witness. St. Edmund died at Soissy, and on the following day, November 1 7, the body of the Saint was carried to Traisnel, on the road back to Pontigny. The funeral procession was accompanied by a vast and ever in creasing throng of people, and the Abbot of Pontigny was afraid lest some among the crowd might try to carry the sacred relic away. " Hence, for the greater security, he sealed the bier with his own seal, in his presence who wrote this, and very many others." ^ The lack of any evidence of a personal knowledge of the Saint in his early life, or of the places where he lived, would prove that this is not the narrative by Robert Rich ; nor, for the same reason, is it by Robert Bacon. But it is probable that Wharton, and Martfene, were right in ascribing it to Bertrand. The Addit. is a fine manuscript folio, on vellum. The volume, which is bound in wood covered with parchment, contains the Life of St. Thomas of Can terbury, and the Life of St. Edmund. It has been beautifully preserved, and is in the same clean and perfect condition as the Balliol MS. The handwrit ing, which is large, is of about the year 1250; and is, without doubt, that of a French scribe. The 1 Ball. Coll. MS., f. 62. SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON XXl characteristics of French writing are very distinct, both in the Life of St. Thomas and in the Life of St. Edmund. This Life of St. Edmund is the same narrative as that printed by Martene and Durand, in the Thes aurus Novels Anecdotorum. But Martfene printed, in 1 7 1 7, from a manuscript at Pontigny, which passed to the Library at Auxerre in about the year 1793. Martene states that the manuscript was at Pontigny: and Pere Masse, in his Vie de Saint Edme, explains that " the principal monument of the Life of St. Edmund, and that which has furnished most of our documents, is a manuscript of the ancient Abbey, belonging since the Revolution to the Library of Auxerre, No. 148. It is a small folio, on vellum, bound in wood covered with sheepskin ; in double column writing, of the end of the thirteenth cen tury, divided into two parts." ^ Only these two copies — • the manuscript at Auxerre, and the Addit. MS. — seem to exist of this, the fullest and most detailed of all the manu script Lives of St. Edmund. The narrative of the Addit. MS. appears, for many reasons, to be the Life by Robert Rich. But a contradiction meets us at once. Martene says it is the Life by Bertrand; and quotes, in support 1 Vie de S. Edme, p. 409. Pfere Massd goes on to say that this is the Life by Bertrand ; and in saying this he probably followed Martfene's statement. But as the manuscript is late thirteenth cen tury, it cannot be the original Life ; and it bears no author's name. xxu EARLY MANUSCRIPT LIFES OF of this theory, the words in chapter vi. — " For he knows it who has seen and written these things, and testifies of these things, and his testimony must not be doubted by any one, even slightly; for as one night, as beseemeth a room-mate, he was with him in his room, and saw him carefully writing that glorious Name on his forehead . . ." ^ We have read about that incident and con versation before, in the Balliol MS.^ — the Life by Bertrand. There the author made use of words which unquestionably imply that he was speaking of himself. — " ... as he beareth witness who saw and wrote these things. And we know that his testi mony is true." ^ No medieval writer, accustomed as those writers were to the constant use of quota tions from the Gospels, and to Scripture formulae, would have adopted exactly those words except in exactly the sense in which St. John used them ; i.e. speaking of himself. Undoubtedly Bertrand was so speaking. But in the Addit. MS., and in the LAfe printed by Martene, the words are — " Scit enim hoc qui uidit et scripsit hec, et super hiis perhibet testi monium . nee est de eius testimonio uel leuiter alicui dubitandum. Dum enim nocte quadam . . ." * These words certainly seem to mean, not that the writer was speaking of himself; but that he was 1 Marline, iii. c. 1779. ^ See p. xix. ^ ". . . ut ipse testimonium perhibet qui uidit et scripsit hec. Et scimus quia uerum est testimonium eius."— .BaM. CoU. MS f. 49"- * Addit. MS., f. 89. SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON xxiii quoting the statement of one who had seen and heard what he narrated, and whose words could not possibly be doubted. Martfene, when editing the Pontigny MS., evidently had not seen the Life by Bertrand from which the passage was taken ; and, therefore, did not detect a borrowed paragraph. This has led to the confused statement that Bertrand was the author of the Life printed by Martfene, and of the Lambeth MS. Yet the two Lives are different in design, in length of narrative, and in style. But, it must be owned, there is so much in the Lambeth MS. that is appa rently taken from the Life printed by Martene, that it may almost be regarded as an epitome of that Life, and not an original composition. I have but little hesitation in attributing the narrative of the Addit. MS., which is the same as that printed by Martene, to Robert Rich. There are two acknowledged methods by which we may determine the authorship of a manuscript ; the internal evidence, and the external evidence. In the Addit. the former very strongly points to the narrative having been written by one who knew the Saint intimately through his entire life; and who knew well, and had deep personal regard for, the Rich family. I would especially note, in support of this, the first six chapters of the narrative. No other MS. Life furnishes us with such detailed account of Edmund's early days ; and that is exactly the knowledge which Robert Rich had, and which xxiv EARLY MANUSCRIPT LIVES OF the Saint's other biographers had not. The hterary merit of this narrative is considerable. The work is the most entire, the most equal, and the best sustained, of all the Lives. It is evidently written by one who knew all the facts from personal know ledge, though this is not stated. The author of the Addit. MS. gives many facts not mentioned by the other biographers. He tells the circumstances of Edmund's birth and baptism ; and the fuller details which he gives would have been learnt in the home at Abingdon. The author of this manuscript gives the best account of Edmund's leaving home, and coming to Oxford ; and of his life as a teacher. He dwells at great length on Edmund's supernatural gifts, and gives a long list of the miracles which accompanied his preaching. He describes, with touching pathos, the Saint's last hours, and his happy death ; and is eloquent in his account of the devotion of those who, after his death, followed his body from Soissy to Pontigny. And, lastly, it is in this Life, more than in the others, that we hear of Mabel's great sanctity ; and how she, " not inferior to her husband in virtue, joined a man's heart to a woman's thought; and living in the world, but not in worldly wise, cut herself entirely off from softness of mind and the allurements of the flesh. And as she was eager to acquire purity of heart, which as a rule is chiefly gained by sober fasts, it was her custom nearly every night to be present wakefuUy at the vigils of SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON XXV the monks of Abingdon."^ The writer dwells on these memories, and the memories gather together, and break forth in — " O woman, stronger than he who storms cities ! In order to punish her own shortcomings, she declared war against herself; and engaging in a more than civil, more than intestine conflict, she drew up, at the same time for herself and against herself, the battle line of the most austere penance. She used in the spiritual combat material arms, in order that by them she might be both con quered and conqueror, always keeping herself under arms that she might always find the Lord unarmed. In the education of her children, she had the prudence of Sara ; in the presence of men, she had the modesty of Rebecca ; in the presence of God, she was well-pleasing as Rachel ; in the presence of her neighbour, she owned the happy fecundity of Leah. The repute of her sanctity earned her, after her death, the famous epitaph — ' Here entombed lieth Mabel, the Flower of Widowhood.' " ^ Unmistakably were those words written by a son who had loved and venerated the mother he spoke of; and not by a stranger, who had never seen the home at Abingdon, or known Mabel Rich, except by hearsay, some thirty years after her death. The external evidence to show that this is the lAfe by Robert Rich is interesting, and of great weight. 1 Addit. MS., f. 87. 2 Ibid. XXVI EARLY MANUSCRIPT LIVES OP The Addit. MS. came to the British Museum from the Library of the Duke of Sussex, in July, 1 844. But it has a previous history, which helps us to identify it as the Life of the Saint written by his brother, Robert Rich. The volume contains two narratives, the Life of St. Thomas, and the Life of St. Edmund. In the space left on the last folio of the Life of St. Thomas is written, in large letters, in handwriting of early thirteenth century, " Liber Beate Marie Regalis Montis." And at the end of the Life of St. Edmund is written, also in large letters, in handwriting of middle thirteenth century, " Liber Beate Marie Regalis Montis." This was a Cistercian abbey, in the diocese of Beauvais ; and there the manuscript was seen, and identified as the Life by Robert Rich, in about the year 1720, by an authority very few will venture to question. In 1722, Casimir Oudin published at Leipsic his Commentarius de Scriptoribus Ecclesiasticis ; and in that work is the following account of a MS. Life of St. Edmund, by Robert Rich. — " Since Robert had accompanied this his brother everywhere, he wrote, in a simple and clear style, the Life of St. Edmund, his brother, Archbishop of Canterbury, who died on November 16, in the year 1242. Laurentius Surius inserted this in his Collection of Legends, under the date above mentioned ; but, because of its abridg ment, a wretchedly torn and shortened narrative. But the full and genuine work of Robert Rich is in SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON XXVU manuscript in the Cistercian Library at Mens Regalis, in the diocese of Beauvais. It is bound in a folio volume, with the Life of St. Thomas, Archbishop of that same see of Canterbury, and martyr ; which we had for some long time in our cell, having borrowed it, and returned it." ^ This was, beyond doubt, the " Liber Beate Marie Regalis Montis," which is now the Addit. MS., I 5,264 of the British Museum. There must have been some tradition, probably some written evidence, in the Library of the Cistercians at Mons Regalis, which led Casimir Oudin to speak so positively about the authorship of the manuscript. And there is other, though not so definite, evidence that this is the narrative by Robert Rich. Robert did not live on for many years after his brother's death ; and it is not known where he died. One brother, many years before, had entered the Cister cian House at Boxley ; and there has always existed a vague tradition that Robert also became a Cister cian monk. I find no proof that he did so ; but, if he did, he probably joined the Order in France, and so remained near to the Shrine at Pontigny. Such a theory accounts for our hearing nothing of him after his brother's death, except the fact that he wrote his brother's Life, a work which he may well have done in the quiet seclusion of a Cistercian abbey. A statement of Carolus de Visch would perhaps strengthen this theory ;— " Moreover, Robert 1 Com/men, Scrip, Eccle., iil. c. 219. xxvm EARLY MANUSCRIPT LIVES OF Rich, his own brother, wrote the LAfe of St. Edmund (according to Pits and Molanus), whom Seguinus makes a Cistercian, and, in his Bibliotheca, includes him with the other writers of the same Order. I do not venture to adopt this opinion, because I could not discover in any English writer even a slight trace of it." ^ And in Pits we find, — " For as I infer from Matthew Paris, John Leland, and others, he wrote an Interpretation of the Canon of St. Augustine ; one book. The Life of St. Edmund; one book. The Translation of the same ; one book." ^ It would seem that this was a description of the Life printed by Martene (which is the same as the Addit), and that it was believed to be the Life by Robert Rich ; for in Martene's Thesaurus the Life is printed as the First Part, and there is a Second Part (not given in the Addit. MS.), which is the History of the Transla tion, and the Booh of the Miracles. It is, also, well worth noticing that Du Cange, who must have known the manuscript at Pontigny (printed by Martfene), and the Addit. MS. when it was at Mons Regalis, gives the name of Robert Rich in his Index seu Nomenclator Scriptorum Medise et Infimse Latinitatis, yet without stating what he wrote ; but does not mention Bertrand The Life in the Addit. MS. is, therefore, of all our MS. Lives of the Saint, the most important ; for the external history of the manuscript agrees with the 1 Bib Scrip., p. 85. ^ De illus, Ang. Scrip,, p. 318. SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON XXlX internal evidence ; and both point to the narrative being the work of Robert Rich. I would now speak of another manuscript in the British Museum; the Cotton MS. 'Julius D. vi. f. 123. This manuscript is one of those formerly belong ing to Sir John Cotton, who inherited the great Library of manuscripts which his grandfather, Sir Robert Cotton, had collected. Sir Robert Cotton was born in 1570, and died in 1631. The work of his life was the collecting together all the manu scripts and historical writings that he could find, which had been saved from the general destruction of the monastic Libraries under Henry VIII. and Edward VI. Many valuable manuscripts had then been rescued by private persons; and Sir Robert Cotton was indefatigable in seeking and purchasing these hidden treasures. Therefore we may believe that the Cotton MS. Julius D. vi. originally belonged to one of the English Rehgious Houses. It is a small quarto volume, in modern binding. The handwriting, which is small, appears to be of about the year 1 3 1 o. The Life is divided into chapters, which are rubricated ; and each chapter, or para graph, begins with a red or blue capital, slightly ornamented. The smaller initial letters, in the text, are black, roughly filled in with blots of red. The manuscript appears to have suffered much from damp, and is very discoloured. Like the other MS. Lives of the Saint, this bears no author's name. It is, also, as far as I know, the XXX EARLY MANUSCRIPT LIVES OF only copy of this narrative. We have to judge it entirely from its internal evidence. The distinctive character of this manuscript is that it is not a narrative Life of the Saint, in the sense that the other manuscripts are ; but it is partly a narrative, and partly a collection of important and interesting documents, which have been well put together. It is a collected history, rather than a biography. The style is very marked, and dis tinctly different to that of any of the other Lives. I must here call attention to the points which led me to believe that this manuscript is a copy, and the only copy in England, of the missing Life by Matthew Paris. I noticed, almost at the first read ing, that it quoted exactly the authorities upon which Matthew Paris said that he had based his work. In the Chronica Majora, under date 1253, Matthew Paris tells us of the death of Richard de la Wych, Bishop of Chichester, " a man of eminent learning and extraordinary piety, and at one time the secre tary and special adviser of Blessed Edmund, Arch bishop of Canterbury ; informed by whose statements, as well as by those of Master Robert Bacon, Friar of the Order of Preachers, Dom Matthew Paris, monk of St. Albans, hath written a Life of the aforesaid St. Edmund, and carefully set in order whatsoever he hath learnt for certain from trust worthy sources." ^ ^ Matt. Paris, v. p. 369. SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON XXXl The Cotton MS. is a Life of the Saint which is chiefly compiled from the written evidences of others ; which contains a long statement, about a considerable portion of St. Edmund's life, by Robert Bacon ; and which contains a letter of peculiar interest from Richard de la Wych. It includes, also, long verbatim passages from the Letter from the University of Oxford ; the Bull of Innocent IV, about St. Edmund's canonisation ; the interesting testimony of the Archbishop of York ; a sermon which St. Edmund preached at Pontigny ; and a prayer which he used to say. In the able and critical preface to the fifth volume of the Chronica Majora} Luard thus speaks of the work that Matthew Paris did in his later years. — " The style is the same as that employed in the previous years ; the manner of introducing docu ments and speaking of facts is the same ; the authors quoted the same. . . . There is the same freedom of speech respecting the Pope and the king. . . . Throughout there is the same picturesque- ness of narration, the same independence of judg ment, . . ."^ And Sir Frederic Madden, in his preface to the third volume of the Historia Anglorum, calls attention to the " rhetorical or dramatic char acter " of Matthew Paris' style ; and reminds us that he was a " collector of information." ^ The lAfe of St. Edmund which Matthew Paris 1 RoUs Series. ^ Matt. Paris, v. pp. xiv., xvi, 3 Hitt. Angl,, iii. pp. xxvi., xxxv. xxxu EARLY MANUSCRIPT LIVES OF wrote is mentioned in the Chronicle in the year 1253. The Life in the Cotton MS. must have been written later than the year 1247, which is the date of the Letter from Richard de la Wych. And the entire work seems to answer to the descriptions by Luard and Sir Frederic Madden of the great chronicler's mode of writing and compiling at that time. The descriptions are vivid, and the various incidents are graphically related. And there is evinced throughout the entire work a singular power of telling much in few words, and of selecting always the important facts. A freedom of touch and an independence of tone pervade the whole story ; but are especially marked in the treatment of the political and ecclesiastical ques tions.^ I will not attempt to compare the style of this narrative with that of the Chronica Majora. Those who know the latter well will easily recognise the similarity. I will quote only one instance, though I might give many, of the style which carries us at once to the Scriptorium at St. Albans, where the king himself was the authority for many of the facts that the monk was able to chronicle. — " Extunc autem solito diligencius operibus cari- tatis precipue que regnum et magnates contingebant conatus est efficaciter insistere et discordantes ad ' See the quotations from the Cotton MS. on pp. 96-7, 132-3, 224-5, 235-6, which are exactly Matthew Paris' style ; and most unlike the style and tone of the other Lives of St. Edmund. SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON xxxiii pacis tranquiUitatem amicabiliter reuocare satis caute considerans quod a magnatum odio et dis- cordia dependent pericula subditorum . Vnde tunc occiso comite Ricardo Marescallo in hybernia . rex difficUem se exhibuit in substituendo Gilberto in ipsam hereditatem ipsum tanquam fratrem proxi- mum contingentem . hac tactus racione . quia comes Ricardus occisus fuit in hostili prelio contra regem abiudicatus . Archiepiscopus igitur diligens gUbertum quia vere amabUia ^ erat . condoluit afilicto vtpote qui super afflictos pia semper gestabat viscera . regem festinus adijt . tunc apud regale manerium suum Wudestok existentem . Quem cum rex satis reuerenter ac ciuiliter in osculo assurgens suscepisset . dixit ei Bene veneris pater . Et que causa aduentus et laboris tui . At ipse . Magna domini mi . Videlicet salus anime vestre et regni prosperitas et saluacio . Et pro fundamento lucu- cionis sue ponens et exponens eleganter et rethorice virtutem caritatis . iunctis manibus et obortis lacrimis regem pro memorato gilberto deuotissime deprecabatur / vt frater fratris noxam nuUatenus lueret / aut portaret / . nee innocentem culpa nocentis aliquatenus redundaret . Et cum theo- logicas quibus habundauit . induceret ad hoc cum racionibus auctoritates . efficaciter orans et per- suadens . vt non tantum omnem animi ranccorem ^ In the quotations from the Cotton MS. I have foUowed the scribe's words exactly, and have not attempted to correct the grammar or the spelling. The punctuation was difficult to repro duce, so only the point (" . ") has been used. XXXIV EARLY MANUSCRIPT LIVES OF remitteret . immo eidem ad cumulum amplioris beneficij . totam cum officij dignitate concederet hereditatem suppliciter deprecabatur . Cui respondit rex pietate motus vultu inquiens serenissimo . O bone archiepiscope multum ponderi et nescio quid supra quod humanum est gracie et efficacie habent preces tue que me inconcepta ira fixum ad clemen- ciam et fauorem inopinabiliter reuocarunt . Et ut vulgariter loquens ea que benignus rex pronunciauit reticem . planius ait modeste ridens . 0 quam pulcre scis precari . precare eodem mode pro me deum . et non dubito cum sit me deus benignior . quin te clementer exaudiat . Porro ego te iam exaudiui . fiat ut petisti . Et accito Gilberto rex omnem remittens indignacionem ei suam restituit cum plenitudine dignitatis hereditatem." ^ But this is only general evidence. The par ticular points which would prove the authorship must be given in detail. In the first sentences of this Life may be recog nised that pecuUar " fondness for a play on words " which Luard has especially noticed in the Chronica Majora.'^ Reinald Rich was "rich" in this world's goods, and "rich" in his chUdren, and in then- virtues. And, again, "the Lord raised Robert to a wealth of fruitful returns, by enriching him with cheerful liberality and deep learning." The words are — " Beatus Edmundus Cantuariensis archiepiscopus > Cot. MS., f. I3it>. 2 Matt. Paris, vii. p. xvi. SAINT .EDMUND OF ABINGDON XXXV ex piissimis parentibus fortune mediocris in pago Abendonie extitit oriundus . patre editus Reginaldo cognomento diuite . matre vero Mabilia . matri- moniali federe copulatis . Quibus tale cognomen congrue immo nee sine diuino nutu . competebat . Ipsos namque inter ceteras prosperitates vtriusque sexus maxime fecunda ac sancta soboles diuites fecit . et beatos. . . . Habuit et Robertum . quem sicut et edmundum . meritis suis preclaris exigen- tibus ab vberimorum redditun opulenciam dominus ditando suUimauit . qui sanctitatis eximie dapsilitatis facete et profunde sciencie dotibus choruscauit." There is the remarkable interview, already quoted, with the king at Woodstock, which is not given in the other Lives of the Saint. It was evidently a private interview; and we wonder who could have known the minute details of the conversation ; for, considering their nature, the Saint would hardly have repeated them. But we find that the king was a visitor at St. Albans in 1251,^ two years before the Life by Matthew Paris is mentioned ; and we know that he was in the habit of giving much information to Matthew Paris which afterwards be came written history. There is the evidence of Robert Bacon, " The truthful and succinct record of Robert, surnamed Bacon, touching the sanctity of the Blessed Arch bishop of Canterbury." ^ The greater part of chapter iv., a short sentence 1 Matt. Paris, v. p. 233. " Cot. MS., f. 135''. XXXVl EARLY MANUSCRIPT LIVES OF in chapter v., and a considerable portion of chapter vi., are extracts from the Letter from the University of Oxford to the Pope, pleading for Edmund's canonisa tion ; a document which would rightly have been considered of great importance; and from which Matthew Paris would, therefore, have gladly quoted. St. Edmund's last gifts to his sisters at Catesby are mentioned in this Life, and not in the other Lives of the Saint. But the particulars of those gifts were known to Matthew Paris, for he mentions them in his Chronicle. — "Set nee sanctarum domi- narum sororum suarum plus frater obliuiscitur sanctimoni- alium scilicet apud Katebyam commorancium in extremis licet agens . pallium namque suum coloris cinerei . de panno videlicet qui vulgariter dicitur camelot cum penula agnina. Et quandam tabellam ar- genteam in qua insculpta sunt ymago beate marie filium fouentis in gremio . et Christi passio . et martirium beati thome . transmisit . pro quibus vsqne in presentem diem apud Katebyam vbi tunc venerantur reseruantur . dominus mira- cula eterna condigna memoria operatur." i The words in this Life, which record Edmund's consecration are singularly like the words of the Chronicle. — 1 Cot. MS., f. 147. ^ Hist, Angl,, ii. p. 448. " Diebus quoque sub eisdem apud Ka^teby, domum sancti- monialium, ubi beatus Ed mundus, Cantuariensis archi episcopus, duas habuit sorores sanctimoniales, et uni earum pallium delegaverat et alii unam tabellam argenteam, in qna effigiata fuit passio Christi, meritis dicti sancti Edmundi, sicut et in Francia, jam cele- berrima miracula choruscabant. Pallium vero memoratum et tabella in maxima ibidem veneratione, tanquam carissi- mse reliquiae, in memoria sancti Edmundi reservantur." ^ SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON xxxvil "Consecratus igitur beatus Edmundus in ecclesia Can- tuariensi a Rogero Londonensi episcopo . Sanotus a sancto theologus a theologo virgo a virgine . ciliciatus a ciliciato . archideus ^ a suo decano domi- nica qua cantatur . Letare ieru- salem . quarto nonas scilicet Aprilis presente rege henrico cum tresdecim" episcopis et Magnatum copiosa multitud- ine . sollempniter eo die cum pallio . quod ei gratis trans- miserat dominus papa . missam celebrauit.'' ^ " Eodem anno in ecclesia Cantuarise consecratus est . ma gister jEdmundus, ejusdem ecclesiae electus, vir quidem Deo amabilis et hominibus, a Rogero, Londoniensi episcopo, sanctus a sancto, in archiepis- copum Cantuariensem, Domi nica qna cantatur, ' Lsetare Jerusalem,' quae tunc fuit iiii°. nonas Aprilis, non sine nutu Spiritus Sancti. . . . Et eodem die missam cum pallio, quod ei sponte prsemiserat papa, et hoc notabile, sollempniter eele- bravit." * This is the only Life which tells us about St. Edmund's private seal; but Matthew Paris, in the lAher Additamentorum, also teUs us about it. — " Et ecce inter orandum cum vehementer formidaret . re- cedendo recedere . reuelatum est ei desuper quid agendum hoc modo . voce desuper elapsa. Crede minoris sigilli tui cir- cumscripcionem . et sequere ilium cuius in medio martirium figuratur . Erat autem sigilli 3ui secrecioris epigramma hie . versus . Edmundum doceat . mors mea ne tiineat. Et in medio . beatus thomas martir et milites eum excerebrantes eleganter insculpti." ^ " In secreto sigillo Sancti jE[dmundi] insculpta fuit pas sio Sancti Thomse, et in parte inferiori ipsius sigilli quidam prsesul supplicans, quem quasi alloquens confortat et animat ipse sanctus Thomas, dicens per hunc versuni qui sigillo in- scribitur, JSdmundum doceat mors mea ne timeat. Quem et ipse Sanctus iE[dmundus] s»pe solebat tarn corde quam [voce] cum devo- tione recolere cum suspiriis." ^ 1 See note, p. xxxiii. ^ ms,. s Cot, MS., f. 130''. ¦* Hist. Angl., ii. p. 367. 6 Cot. MS., f. 141''. ^ Lbr. Add., p. 126. Bolls Series. xxxvm EARLY MANUSCRIPT LIVES OF We know how continually Matthew Paris, in his chronicles, quoted from classical authors. They were stock quotations; but the use of them was characteristic of Matthew Paris, and some he quoted more than once. The other Lives of St. Edmund have no such quotations ; but this Life, contained in the Cotton MS., has three, and two of them are also found in the Chronica Majora. And, although the context in each case is different, there is a striking simUarity in the manner of introducing the quota tions. — " Uidens igitur vir dei quia cedere oportuit sese absentare . secundum illud poeticum . dum furor in cursu est currenti cede furori." ^ "... secundum illud poeti cum, Cum furor in cursu est, cur renti cede furori." ^ And, again, — "... prout satis ciuiliter edocet poeta dicens. Parcite paucorum diffundere crimen in omnes." ^ "... docet poeta ethnicus et gentilis, dicens, Parcite paucorum diffundere crimen in omnes." * And now we come to what is, perhaps, the final proof that this Cotton MS. is the Life by Matthew Paris. In the Historia Anglorum, under date 1246, we find that Matthew Paris, writing about the canonisa tion of Edmund, Archbishop of Canterbury, states, " Cujus canonizationis auctenticum elegantissimum 1 Cot. MS., f. 141b. 3 Cot. MS., f. 150. 2 Matt. Paris, iv. p. 158. • Matt. Paris, v. p. 33. SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON XXXIX in libro de vita ipsius poterit qui curat reperire." ^ This undoubtedly was the Life which he himself had written, and which was kept at St. Albans, that those who wished might refer to it. But the date, 1246, is earlier than the Life in the Cotton MS., for that Life could not have been written until after 1247.^ Sir Frederic Madden explains, in a footnote, — " de vita ipsius. Originally written Additamentorum, but corrected on a slip of vellum pasted above." In the Historia Anglorum this appears to have been a quite ordinary way of making a correction. Sir Frederic Madden notices very many instances where Matthew Paris made an alteration in his text by pasting a slip of veUum over the original writing. So we see that the original reference, in 1246, was to the Liber Additamentorum ; and there we find the docmnent.^ And the altered reference, altered perhaps some years later, is to the Vita ipsius. And in the Life in the Cotton MS. we find the document also.* But it is not in any of the other Lives of the Saint. In the later reference, on the slip of vellum, Matthew Paris was referring to a document in the Life of St. Edmund which he himself had compUed ; and the Cotton MS. is the only Life which contains that document.^ The one instance, in this Life, when the writer 1 Hist, Angl., iii. p. 13. ^ See p. xxxii. 3 Lbr. Add., p. 120. * Cot. MS., f. 151b ^ But it is printed by Martfene, in the collection of documents and letters relating to the Saint's canonisation ; but is not in the Life. xl EARLY MANUSCRIPT LIVES OF speaks as if he had been himself present and seen what he describes, is so obviously a passage taken from the Life by Bertrand that we need hardly notice it. In this lAfe the account of the funeral procession from Soissy to Pontigny is taken, often word for word, from the narratives of Bertrand and Robert Rich, in the Balliol MS., and in the Addit. MS. Or, rather, the details are taken from these narratives ; but they are told in a far more dramatic style, and with a fuller description of all that took place, as if the writer had put together the evidences of several people. And the fact that the Abbot of Pontigny sealed the bier is told in almost exactly Bertrand's own words. Bertrand, as we know, was present ; and it was probably his account that Matthew Paris foUowed, adding the " Hence, for the greater security, he sealed the bier with his own seal, in the presence of the writer and very many other men," ^ to give force and authority to what he wrote. A few words ought certainly to be said about the Fell MS.^ It is a manuscript in handwriting of middle thirteenth century, and the Life is the same narrative as the Faustina, B. i .* But it can hardly be called a " Life " of the Saint. It contains also an account of the many miracles which were wrought at the shrine at Pontigny, during the first few years after St. Edmund's death. The miracles appear to agree with tho6e in the 1 Cot, MS., f. 1481=. 2 Fett MS., 2. Bodl. Lbr. 3 Cot, MS., Faust. B. i. British Museum. SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON xli Booh of the Miracles, printed by Martfene. The Life is by one who knew the Saint, and who saw and heard the things he tells us ; but there is very Uttle in it, beyond the miracles, of any historical import ance. It is more like a dissertation on the Saint's spiritual life, and it may have been written as a preface to the miracles. The manuscript is said to have belonged to the Abbey at Abingdon. This Life contains a long paragraph^ which is almost entirely the same as one paragraph ° by the Monk Eustace, in the Corpus Christi MS. It is always dangerous to conjecture, when it is mere conjecture, about the authorship of any document. But this paragraph is found only in these two manuscripts ; and this might point to the conclusion that Eustace the Monk wrote the narrative of the Fell MS., and also his part of the Corpus Christi MS. There is an interesting MS. Life of St. Edmund at St. John's CoUege, Cambridge; MS. c. 12, 9. I have not seen it ; but I am told that the hand writing is late thirteenth century. It is, therefore, about forty years later than the Addit., the Balliol, and the Corpus Christi MSS. It was evidently written after the Addit., as the description of Mabel Rich is obviously taken from that narrative. This Life appears to be the work of some one unknown, who began to write a Life of the Saint, at the close of the thirteenth century, and who made full use of the then existing Lives, and also of the traditions 1 FOl MS., p. 6. 2 Q, Q, c^ jig^ p_ 383. xlii SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON which were still common talk about St. Edmund's life at Oxford. But the Life was never really finished. It virtually ends at the period of St. Edmund's election to the see of Canterbury, and only gives a very short account of his death.^ I must, finally, add that I have here endeavoured to collect together the different authorities and evidences for determining the authorship of the Addit. MS. Ufe of St. Edmund, of the Balliol MS. lAfe, and of the Cotton MS. LAfe. I cannot say that the proofs, though very strong, are quite reliable about the Addit. or the Balliol MSS. But the evi dence for the Cotton MS. being the Life by Matthew Paris seems to be conclusive. 1 This MS. is printed in Life of St. Edmund of Canterbury, by Dom Wilfrid Wallace. LIFE OF ST. EDMUND OF ABINGDON CHAPTER I St. Edmund — Abingdon — The foundation of the monastery — The Rich family — The house in which St. Edmund was born — Reinald Rich — Mabel Rich — Her death — Her tomb In the attempt to write this Life of St. Edmund two strong desires are combined. There is the desire to tell faithfully the story of the Saint's life; its historic relation to the world we live in; its trivial incidents; its great achievements; and its control ling effect on other times, and on other lives. And, beyond that, there is the desire to learn something of the hidden life of the Saint; to draw near, as it were, to the supernatural gifts, the marvellous graces, the faith, and strength, and love, which made the Saint-life; to see, perhaps, something of what the Saint saw and longed for ; that we, touch ing a garment's hem, may gain something of hope and confidence from one whom God has especially chosen. The Life of St. Edmund leads us from his A 2 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON birthplace, the merchant's house near the abbey at Abingdon; to the world-famed University of Oxford; to the sister University of Paris; to the cathedral at Salisbury; to the vUlage of Calne; to the magnificent mother church of all England, when England was Catholic, the cathedral at Canter bury ; and thence to his last home, and final resting- place, at Pontigny. In the Roman Breviary, that beautiful storehouse of inspired writings, sacred histories, and treasured anecdotes, the Office for St. Edmund's day relates that : — " Edmund (whose family name was Rich) was born at Abingdon. He was sent to the Schools and University of Oxford, where he advanced beyond his compeers, not only in virtue, but in learning likewise. Thence he went to Paris. Finishing his course of studies, he lectured with great distinction on Theology. Returning to his native land, he taught at Oxford ; labouring too, in the neighbour hood, as a missionary ; until at length, against his own wiU and remonstrances, but to the common joy of every one else, he was elevated to the high dignity of Archbishop of Canterbury. " Short was his time for sleep, which he took not in bed, but sitting or reclining; nor, for six-and- twenty years, did he take it but when nature com pelled him. His great watchfulness was matched by his spare living : the rest of his day he gave to prayer, study, and charitable occupations. Money HIS LIFE 3 he neither touched, nor cared to see ; saving, per chance, that which passed from his own hands into those of the poor. He was dihgent in hearing confessions; and his holy discourses were frequent. Yet was it not the eloquence of the man alone, but the repute of his sanctity mainly, which deeply affected the minds of his hearers. "Now Edmund's Pontificate chanced upon times of exceeding disturbance of things civil and ecclesias tical. After he had remonstrated with the king in vain ; seeing that, by his presence, evUs were not so much alleviated as embittered, he retired into France, in order that at Pontigny, far away from public commotions, he might live for God alone. Not many days after, he fell into a grievous malady, and at Soissy, when by the Sacraments of the Church he had holUy made his passing away secure, he slept happily in the Lord, in the year 1242.^ Four years afterwards, by Pope Innocent IV., he was numbered among the saints." ^ And, perhaps, in wishing to trace his footsteps, and to follow his life, from the abbey church at Abingdon where, when a chUd, he knelt to pray to the shrine at Pontigny, where his body now rests, we can take no better guide than the words of the Divine Office. Abingdon, with its monastic associations, has an history too rich and interesting to be passed over ^ There is a mistake in the figures. St. Edmund died in 1240. ^ Ro. Bre. Suppl./or Eng,, Nov. 16. 4 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON in silence. With the first records of the land, and the foundation of the monastery, are linked some names which must be dear to every Englishman, and especially dear to every Catholic. In Dugdale's Monasticon we find that at the time when Hengist, a pagan, had some four hundred and sixty men of noble birth killed at Stanhengest, or Stonehenge, one from among them, named Aben, escaped; and he hid himself in a wood on the south of Oxfordshire. There, in retirement, he led a most holy life. The inhabitants of the neigh bourhood often went to him ; and he taught them, speaking to them of heavenly things, and of faith in God. The veneration for Aben was great ; and the people built an home for him, and a chapel in honour of the Blessed Virgin. But Aben was anxious for a more strict retirement, and he stole away into Ireland. Yet the place where he had dwelt, in the wood near Oxford, was ever after called Abendun. In the time of Kenwin, king of the West Saxons, Hean was viceroy of WUtshire and part of Berkshire. Hean was nephew to Cissa, who gave, or bequeathed, to him certain property, with the distinct under standing that he would found a monastery at the place where Aben had lived, and where he had taught the people of the country round about. Hean, it would appear, accepted the inheritance; but he neglected the conditions. Ceadwalla, who succeeded Cissa, confirmed the grant to Hean; and ORIGIN OF ABINGDON ABBEY 5 even added to it. Yet Hean, though himself a monk, for some unaccountable reason delayed the foundation of the monastery, which was not finally buUt tUl the time of King Ini. MeanwhUe Hean's sister, Cyssa, more practically religious, and with a more active enthusiasm, built a convent for nuns, at Helneston, near the Thames, and was herself the abbess of many nuns in the convent she had founded. And she obtained a smaU piece of one of the nails of the Crucifixion ; ^ which she placed in a cross, and then had the convent dedicated to the Holy Cross and St. Helen. The site of this convent was, after Cyssa's death, moved; and, during the war between Offa and the West Saxons, the nuns were dispersed, and what became of them is not known. But the cross which Cyssa had made, and which contained the sacred relic, was accidentaUy found among the ruins of the old convent, when the ground was being dug up. And it was given to the monastery at Abingdon, and was reverently preserved by the monks, and was known as the Black Cross. An interesting and detailed account of the origin, growth, and development, of the old abbey is to be found in the Abingdon Chronicle. In the preface to the printed edition of that chronicle is an epitome of the story of the foundation of the monastery : — " When Cissa, about the year 675, granted to Hean a considerable portion of land, of which 1 "... ex clavis Domini . . . " — Monasticon. 6 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON Abingdon formed the central point, it was with the expressed understanding, that upon it a Monastery should be founded. Cissa was succeeded by Ceadwalla ; the grant made to Hean was confirmed and augmented by a donation of twenty hides of land, which stretched apparently from the banks of the Thames in the direction of Cumnor. Upon his departure to Rome, Ceadwalla was succeeded by Ini. During the whole of this period Hean was inactive."^ The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle records how, in the year 688, "king Ceadwalla went to Rome, and received baptism of Sergius the pope, and he gave him the name of Peter, and after seven nights he died, on the xiith ol the Kal. of May (Apr. 20th), in his baptismal clothes ; ^ and he was buried in St. Peter's Church. And Ine succeeded to the kingdom of the West Saxons after him." ^ It would seem that the good King Ini was indignant at Hean's delay in founding the promised monastery, for we find him taking away from Hean the lands which Cissa and Ceadwalla had con ditionally granted to him. And, " taking advantage of a vacancy in the see of Winchester on the death of Heddi, Ini separated no less than six counties from that over-grown diocese : Devon, CornwaU, Somerset, Dorset, Wiltshire, and Berkshire. Over . ' Chron. Mon. Ab., ii. p. ix. =* " White robes, then worn for a week by the newly-baptized." See Saints of Wessex, p. lo. ' A.-S. Chron,, ii. p. 35. KING INI AND SAINT ALDHELM 7 these, erected into an independent see, he placed his early friend, Aldhelm. Aldhelm had long been abbot of Malmesbury, and as such the near neighbour of Hean. A bond of union was thus established between Hean and Ini, which led to more satis factory results."^ Aldhelm, the great lover of peace, used his influ ence to reconcile the king and the monk. He induced them to work together, and to carry out the long delayed, but long wished for, foundation of Abingdon Abbey. Thus, under the holy influence of Aldhehn, Hean was pardoned; and there was reconcUiation. It is easy to imagine the satisfaction of King Ini as the monastery grew. What his pre decessors had desired was at last accomplished. And the name of St. Aldhelm must always be associated with that early building ; for, whUe Ini rescued the lands, and caused the house to be erected, St. Aldhelm was the peace-maker, and probably the king's wise counsellor. St. Aldhelm's name has been cast out of the Church of England calendar ; but his Mass- day is stUl kept in the Catholic Church ; and still the lesson is recited, which relates that he was a man of great and varied learning, a brilliant speaker, and remarkably weU read. And the Office adds more : how hunger did not affect him, that he cared not for money, that he stopped inside his monastery, and ever preached a continual war against idleness.^ ^ Chron, Mon. Ah,, ii. p. xiii. ^ Ro. Bre. Suppl, for Eng., May 25. 8 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON He died in the year 709. "In this year bishop Aldhelm died : he was bishop west of Selwood ; and, in the early days of Daniel, the land of the West Saxons was divided into two bishopshires ; and pre viously it was one: one Daniel held, the other Aldhelm."^ But King Ini lived until 728. Then, like CeadwaUa, he " went to Rome, and there gave up his life." ^ From those early days, until the days of the Protestant reformation, the history of Abingdon is the history of the great Benedictine House, with its good works, its learning, its shelter for the rich, and its liberal charity to the poor. Parallel to that, the story of the slowly growing town; its first inhabi tants, perhaps only the scattered workmen who lingered near the abbey buildings, or the fishermen who found their livelihood by the river's side. But, as generation followed generation, a larger population gathered round the monastery, and in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries Abingdon was a well-known town. Its nearness to Oxford must have added to its reputation, and considerably increased its trade and commercial importance. In those days Oxford was a centre to be reached from all parts of Eng land. To Oxford, then as now, scholars in hundreds flocked as the terms began ; and, then more than now, papal legates, kings, princes, and distinguished foreigners, were no unfrequent visitors at the Uni versity city. Numbers of these travellers and visitors ' A,-S, Chron,, ii. p. 38. ' Ibid,, p. 39. HIS BIRTHPLACE 9 must have passed through Abingdon ; and they per haps stayed some hours there, hospitably entertained at the abbey, which, on one memorable occasion, offered shelter and protection to those whom the discourtesy and effrontery of an unruly Oxford mob drove from the abbey of Oseney.^ Reinald Rich, St. Edmund's father, was a merchant of Abingdon. His inherited fortune had gained for the famUy the cognomen of Rich. There stUl exists at Abingdon, though now partly hidden by some brewery buildings, a very old house in Ock Street, in which house tradition says that St. Edmund was bom. It is near to the Ock stream ; and the north side of the house was, untU late years, all pasture and field. Abingdon people, or at least those who know about the Saint, repeat the tradi tion, and point to that house as the one in which the Rich family hved, and in which Edmund was born. The family may have lived in that house in later years. Edmund's mother continued to live at Abingdon for quite twenty, or twenty-five, years after his birth. She died at Abingdon, and her daughters were living with her up to the time of her death. But the tradition about the house in Ock Street does not agree with what we find in the Anglia Sacra. There is mentioned a certain chapel at Abingdon, built in the year 1288, by Edmund of Cornwall, in the place where Edmund, the Saint, was born. Edmund, Earl of Cornwall, was the son ^ Matt, Paris, iii. pp. 481-3. Annales, p. 224. IO SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON of Richard, Earl of Cornwall. He was born at Berkhampstead, at Christmas- time, in the year 1 250, and was baptized by the Archbishop of Canterbury, and named Edmund, after Edmund, the Saint.^ And in the year 1289, "God showed many miracles in the chapel at Abingdon; which Edmund, Earl of ComwaU, being warned in a dream, built in the year before, on the place where Blessed Edmund the Confessor was born.^ Antony k Wood, writing two hundred and thirty years ago, said that "y* said S. Edmund was borne at Abendon in Berkshire, at w"*" place was (and is stUl as I think) a lane called S. Edmunds lane wherein probably he receiued his first breath." * This lane, still called St. Edmund's Lane, leads from Broad Street, which is a continua tion of Ock Street, to St. Helen's Church. In this lane there certainly was, formerly, a small chapel dedicated to St. Edmund, the site of which is now covered by a malt house. Some considerable por tions of a very old stone wall stUl stand ; and are, apparently, the only existing remains of the chapel, or of a wall which surrounded it. There is no doubt that the site of the chapel, in St. Edmiuid's Lane, is the site of the house in which the Saint was born. The whole of that portion of the town of Abingdon was called " St. Edmundsbury," and is still known by that name to many of the old inhabitants. History is not entirely silent about Reinald Rich. > Matt. Paris, v. p. 94. " Ang. Sac, i. p. 510. ' Wood, MS. REINALD RICH I I He appears to have been successful in trade ; and to have lived a quiet, industrious, and religious life. His good quaUties are implied, rather than related. The acknowledged holiness of his family, and the entire absence of any recorded interference on his part, goes far to prove that in the midst of his merchant life, the necessary distractions of business, and the many duties and cares which must have belonged to his position in the town, he appreciated and encouraged the pious practices and religious surroundings of his own home. That Reinald was a reUgious man is beyond doubt. All the histories of St. Edmund speak, in words most simple and con cise, about the piety of his parents. They " were of moderate fortune and worldly rank ; but much more than moderately abounding in the riches of character, and in works of piety. His father's name, in the English tongue, was Edward,^ and his surname Rich. He, bidding farewell to the world, with the consent of his wife, happUy finished his course of Ufe, in the regular habit, in the monastery of Eyns- ham." ^ In those days it was no very unusual thing for men who had been necessarily pre occupied by the work and the calls of this world to desire solitude, and some form of religious life, some retirement from the world, when they were free to relinquish their secular employments. Reinald ' Some manuscripts give "Eeiualdus ; " some " Edwardus." St. Edmund's father probably had both names. 2 Addit, MS,, f. 87. 12 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON Rich felt this need. He wished to free himself entirely from all the cares, and the worldly in fluences, of commerce ; and to give the last years of his life to an undisturbed preparation for death. St. Edmund's parents were "only moderately fur nished with temporal goods ; but very rich in the treasures of virtue." ^ And so the busy merchant, led perhaps by the pious example of his wife, began to contrast the ways of this world with the claims of heaven, and to recognise the necessity for decided action. Perhaps he saw that, for himself, the only road was quite aside from the highway of secular Ufe. His real character asserts itself when we find him choosing to leave his riches and his merchandise, and to exchange his famUy surround ings for a yet stricter life of prayer and soUtude. The world, in its love for distinction, praises and extols the man who, to serve his country, or to vindicate a nation's cause, will leave his famUy, and face hardships and death. And the world has a ready admiration to give to those who, despite home ties and the pleading of relations, wUl, in some phUanthropic work, risk health and life. But the world of to-day has lost all touch of sympathy and appreciation for Reinald Rich, who heard a caU more plain and certain. That is not understood; yet the reward promised is " an himdi-edfold " and " Ufe everlasting." ^ There is little told about Reinald after he left Abingdon. He found, we may suppose, ' Surius, vi. p. 1 1 6. * g(_ Matt. xix. 29. MABEL RICH I 3 the good life he sought. History only records that he died a monk. It is well known what St. Monica was to St. Augustine, the holy Doctor and Confessor; what Blessed Jane d'Aza was to St. Dominic, the Founder of one of our great Religious Orders; what the humble widow, Catherine Alvarez, was to St. John of the Cross, one of the greatest and dearest of the Saints of the Church. All that, and it may be more, Mabel Rich was to her son, St. Edmund, the glory of England and of France, the much loved and greatly venerated Teacher, Pastor, Archbishop, Reformer, and Writer, of his generation. There is no stronger testimony in the lives of saints, no more perfect instance in the stories of great men's lives, no greater evidence, in all history, of a mother's holy influence and unselfish love, than what is told in the records preserved for us about Mabel Rich. She was a saintly woman, whose good life was the outcome of a great faith. Her faith was something more than the ordinary belief of a beUeving people : it was a faith so strong and real that it impelled action. To Mabel, faith was no dim vision of the Eternal Truth, accepted by inheritance, and acknowledged by custom. Her faith was a Uving beUef, which involved self- renunciation, obedience, and a generous following. In the simple narrative of the old manuscripts, Mabel may be seen, living a strict life of devotion, charity, and prayer. Her self-denial was habitual 14 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON and was prompted by her deep sense of religion. Her mortifications and penances were considered great and heroic, even in those days ; but, though admired, are wondered at, in these half-hearted times of ours ; and they have attracted the ridicule and the derision of a modern writer. Yet the old histories tell us how Mabel would rise at the break of day, or in the dark hours before the dawn, to hasten to the near church, to be present during the Divine Office. At home, she would attend to all her household duties ; teach her children ; and encourage their first desires for holiness. And we may surely assume that often, during the day, she would steal hours from less attractive occupations, to sit alone in the abbey church, happy, as in the Court of her King. There is a beautiful simplicity and directness in the sentences which speak about St. Edmund's mother. " His mother, not inferior to her husband in virtue, joined a man's heart to a woman's thought ; and living in the world, but not in worldly wise, cut herself entirely off from softness of mind and the allurements of the flesh. And as she was eager to acquire purity of heart, which as a rule is chiefly gained by sober fasts, it was her custom nearly every night to be present wakefuUy at the vigils of the monks of Abingdon." ^ We gather that in Oxford, as in Abingdon, she was the valued friend of all who knew her ; loved alike by rich and poor. It was in > Addit. MS,, i. 87. THE GILT GIRDLE AND CORSE IS Oxford, and by Oxford people, that her "gilt gyrdle with a blew corse commonly called y" long pendant gyrdle " was, after her death, treasured ; and handed on from family to famUy, until it came " into j" hands of one Joane Gfylle wife of Edm. Gylle of Oxford and daughter and heire of Will, Baguyle of y° same place Cent, left it by her wUl i486 to y° Image of St. Edm. of Abendon, probably in some church in Oxford and not unlikely in y* where y° said Joane was buried w"*" was in All-Saints church." ' It is described as a " gilt " girdle, and was, together with the " corse," ^ often worn by Mabel. Afterwards a recoUection of her goodness seemed to cling about it. She who had worn it had " discarded worldly attire," and had " crucified her flesh " ; * and the people valued, not the remembrance of a rich and liberal lady, but the relic of one who " was esteemed soe deuot and saintlike," * and who had made herself dear to them, untU her name, and her memory, and the traditions of her goodness were loved in all the neighbourhood. In the wiU of Joane Gylle there is no mention of the " Image " of St. Edmund. Joane Gylle left various properties, chiefly lands and houses, to different churches in Oxford; to St. GUes', AU 1 Wood, MS. ¦•' " Corse " appears to have been a broad band of silk, or other material, embroidered, and used d,s a girdle. The words ' ' corse gyrdyll," and "on cors gyidyll" are found in old wills. See Mv/rray's Dictionary, under ' ' corse. " ' Surius, vi. f. Ii6. * Wood, MS. 1 6 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON Saints, and to Rewley Abbey. And the wUl con tinues — "Also I biquethe alle thappareUe that longithe to my body as it folowith, Fyrste to seynt Edmunde of Abendon a gylte gyrdelle with a blewe corse called The long pendaunt gyrdelle that somme- tyme was seynt Edmundes Moders." * Remembering that Rewley Abbey was founded by Edmund, Earl of Cornwall, who also built the chapel of St. Edmund at Abingdon, it would read as if, after mentioning the churches in Oxford, the charitable lady went on to speak of the chapel at Abingdon; but without repeating the word " church," or " chapel." Or the omission may have been the carelessness of the scribe. It seems more probable that the "gyrdelle that sommetyme was seynt Edmundes Moders " was given to the chapel dedicated to him, in his native town ; and not to an " Image '' in All Saints Church. Reinald Rich entered a monastery " with the con sent of his wife." The words are simple ; yet they record, perhaps, the supreme moment of Mabel's life. Her consent was heroic. AU her affection for her husband, the love of years, and a wealth of happy memories, must have made the parting hard. A deep sense of responsibility, and a natural anxiety for the future of her chUdren, must have been strong temptations to make her refuse her consent. Mabel must have fully seen that it meant, not only the parting from her husband, but also that the 1 White Book, of the City of Oxford, f. 145b MABEL RICH I 7 care of the children, the responsibility of their educa tion, and the graver questions of their work and their vocations would fall almost entirely upon herself. Yet Mabel recognised the call. — " He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me : and he that loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. And he that taketh not up his cross, and foUoweth after me, is not worthy of me." ^ And her part was to help her husband, not to hinder him. Mabel was a brave woman. There is no hint anywhere of her flinching from her respon- sibiUty, or of her failing in the work she undertook. The stories about the family at Abingdon are full of the incidents of her firmness, forethought, and loving care. And she was a remarkable woman. Not, perhaps, as we count greatness, in learning, and prominence, and book-lore ; but in that better knowledge, which enabled her to teach and guide her famUy, to keep her household in peace, and by fine touches of influence and gentle control to direct her sons as they grew to manhood. There are many details about her care for her children. She had four sons and two daughters. It is said that Edmund, Mabel's eldest son, was her favourite ; that she loved him " more earnestly than her other sons, foreseeing his sanctity." ^ Indeed, to such a mother, Edmund, the child-saint, must have been especially dear. She encouraged him to recite the Psalter, which he had learnt by heart, probably at ' St, Matt. X. 37, 38. - Surius, vi. f. 117. B 1 8 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON the monastery school. So early as the year 747 it was a custom for boys to learn the entire Psalter. The council of Cloveshoe, summoned by command of Pope Zachary, in 747, ordained that in church schools every one was to learn the Psalter by heart. And it would appear that the church schools in cluded the episcopal schools, the monastery schools, and also the Mass-Priests' schools, which were the origin of our parochial schools. Mabel taught St. Edmund to fast, even when he was very young ; and " it was the custom of the pious mother to promise and also to give him little presents, with which she knew that small age is easUy attracted; so as by a certain artfulness to instil into him even then a love of salutary abstinence." ^ Mabel had a care for his education; and, when he was twelve years old, she sent him to a school in Oxford. It was while Edmund was reading in Oxford that he feU ill with fever ; ^ and we are told how his mother hastened to him, and remained with him untU he was recovered. When Edmund was a few years older, Mabel sent him to Paris, to complete his studies. She wished him to have all the advan tages that other boys had. It was the custom, in the thirteenth century, for scholars to travel from one University to another on foot, often begging their way ; and Mabel let Edmund start for Paris, accompanied by his brother Robert, with hardly 1 Surius, vi. f. 1 1 6. See Addit. MS,, f. 88. ¦" This was probably some years later. MABEL RICH 1 9 any money. She meant them to live plainly, to learn practical lessons, to gather wide sympathies. We learn how she cared for her sons ; how, feeling that they were inexperienced, she warned them about temptations, and " took pains to forearm them with wisdom." She sent parcels of linen to them when they were at Paris, and to Edmund an hair shirt; and she reminded them often of the dangers that were around them. And Edmund, " that holy boy, casting aside all levity, avoided dancing and other stage-plays and shows. More over, on Sundays and Holy days, as he had been taught by his mother, before he took food he re cited the whole Psalter through." ^ When Mabel was dying, her great anxiety was for her two daughters; and very touching is the account of her sending for Edmund, and confiding the young girls to his care. Her confidence in him was very entire. When, dying, she gave him her blessing, she added that in blessing him she blessed his brothers also. And then she died. The monks of Abingdon allowed her to be buried in a chapel ad joining their church; and this chapel was afterwards known as " St. Edmund's mother's chapel." " O woman, stronger than he who storms cities ! 1 Surius, vi. f . II 7. It is quite possible that St. Edmund recited the Psalter, i.e, the 150 psalms. But the seven penitential psalms with the Litany of the Saints was also called " Psalterium. " Also the name " Psalterium " was applied to the Rosary ; and the Psalter of Our Lady was called "Psalterium." See Du Cange, under "Psalterium." 20 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON In order to punish her own shortcomings, she declared war against herself; and engaging in a more than civil, more than intestine conflict, she drew up, at the same time for herself and against herself, the battle line of the most austere penance. She used in the spiritual combat material arms, in order that by them she might be both conquered and conqueror, always keeping herself under arms that she might always find the Lord unarmed. In the education of her children, she had the prudence of Sara ; in the presence of men, she had the modesty of Rebecca ; in the presence of God, she was well- pleasing as Rachel; in the presence of her neigh bours, she owned the happy fecundity of Leah. The repute of her sanctity earned her, after her death, the famous epitaph, — ' Heeb entombed lieth MABEL, The Flower of Widowhood.'" > 1 Addit. MS,, t, 87b. CHAPTER II Birth of St. Edmund — Early childhood — The monastery at Abingdon — St. Edmund sent to a school in Oxford— The grammar schools — The grammarians — St. Edmund at Oxford — He betroths himself to the Blessed Virgin Mabel and Reinald Rich had four sons, and two daughters. Edmund was their eldest child. The year in which he was born is not recorded; but, judging from the events in the earlier portion of his life, we may safely conjecture that he was born about the year 1185. Reinald was rich, to a cer tain extent, in this world's goods ; but rich indeed, so the manuscripts explain, in his children, and in their goodness. For Reinald had " Edmund, of whom I tell at this present, whom God afterwards, as aforesaid, called to the dignity of the Primacy. He had also Robert, whom the Lord raised, even as He did Edmund, to a wealth of most fruitful returns, by enriching him, as his own brilliant deserts de manded, till he shone with a bright dower of rare holiness, of cheerful liberality, and of deep learning. He had also Nicholas, who, despising the world with its barren flowers, received devoutly the habit of religion in the house of the Cistercian Order at Boxley. He had likewise two daughters, Margaret 2 2 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON and Alice, who, having been guarded from their earliest age in maidenly purity, and trained in letters, were received for a small dowry, by Edmund's management, without simony, into the cloister at Catesby, and there took the veil of perpetual ceU- bacy. The famous Edmund had also a brother, who took the habit of religion at Eynsham, a man discrete and recollected." ^ The stories about Edmund's childhood are few, but very striking. The most detailed account of his birth is found in the Addit, manuscript. It appears that the singular whiteness and purity of the newly-born infant attracted the wonder and admiration of those who saw him. The child lay still, and breathless, like one without life. For hours the motionless little body was watched ; and towards evening, there being stUl no evidence of vitality, the women who watched him said that he was dead, and must be buried. He was Mabel's first child; and we can well believe that she | had prayed for special protection for his life and soul. Mabel could not believe that the child, for whom she had asked blessings so earnestly, was dead. She de manded that he might be baptized; and directly the holy water of Baptism touched him, he breathed, and his life began.^ Mabel named her child Edmund, because he was born on the feast of St. Edmund, king, and martyr. Only a few incidents are related about the early ' Oot. MS., f. 123. Addit. MS,, i, 87''. EARLY CHILDHOOD 23 years of the boy who was destined to become the leading spirit in the University of Oxford, the chosen friend and counsellor of celebrated scholars, and the most earnest and enthusiastic reformer of his time. Yet, without written history, we can realise what the home at Abingdon was like; and the near abbey, with its large church. Mabel used to go to the abbey church, to be present when the Divine Office was sung; and, doubtless, Edmund would often follow her there, and kneel by her side. There he knelt, a little boy, fragile perhaps, for he was essen tially an home child, one who cared not for boys' play and sport, but was sUent and meditative. It must have been a beautiful sight ; the ancient church ; the High Altar, and above it the Dove with the Blessed Sacrament ; the long choir, and St. Benedict's monks singing the Divine Office with love and reverence ; the words of the chanted psalms reaching to the public part of the church, where some worshippers, the devout of the town, or the passing travellers, joined in the song of praise. Among them we picture the little boy, by his mother's side, a great awe stealing into his heart, and tears welling up into his eyes, as he looked up the choir to the Altar, and uttered his early prayers to the Lord dwelling there. It is not unlikely that the monks took some notice of Edmund, and often allowed him within the monastery. Indeed, the quiet child may have learned some lessons from them. He may well have 24 SAmT EDMUND OF ABINGDON been a favourite with those busy, studious, serious men ; and perhaps was allowed often within their scriptorium. There he may have spent hours, learning lessons from the monks, as he watched them writing. He saw their books ; he stood by them as they illuminated the parchment pages, and added the large red or blue capitals to the already written paragraphs. Many a wise word of encouragement ; many a simple explanation of words, or writing, or Christian custom, must have been given to the young Edmund. And so his natural reverence for study increased; and an enthusiasm for reading, and for scholarly work, and a love for the rare volumes, grew strong in his heart. Even in those early days he was eager for the priceless knowledge, and longed for the things of better worth. The cloister life, its holiness and dignity, its seclusion, kindliness, and industry, must have been a great influence with the thoughtful child. The abbey at Abingdon had its reputation for learning at least an hundred years before the days when Edmund was a child, beginning to read, per haps, at the monastery school. History tells us how King William the Conqueror, in 1084, " keeping his Easter at Abingdon, was there splendidly enter tained by Robert de Oily, while these two only were admitted to sit at the king's table Osmund bishop of Sarum, and Milo de Walengfort cognomento Crispinus. At the same time Henry the king's youngest son was left to be educated at Abingdon, THE MONASTERY AT ABINGDON 25 where he was accommodated by the care of Robert de OUy, who by the king's command was to supply him with all provisions for himself and his retinue." ^ Twenty-three years later the same " Milo Crispin, lord of the manor of Burcester, lay sick in his castle at Walingford, and having many good offices done to him in his sickness by Faritius, abbot of Abbendon, as a reward he gave to his abbey a public inn, and half a hide of land in Colebrooke on the road to London ; and sent GUbert Pipard his steward, and Warine his chaplain to Abbendon, to lay the said donation on the altar of St. Mary, in presence of the abbot and the whole convent." ^ Life within those monastery walls, the still exist ing remnants of which tell us something of what the House must have been in its grandeur and glory seven hundred years ago, was no dullard's life. The Benedictine Abbey at Abingdon had its chronicle, in which we read to-day of the work done by the monks. Those sons of St. Benedict, foUowing his rule, and wearing his black habit, worked with their hands, writing, transcribing, illuminating missals and portiforiums, correcting books, carving wood, and working in metals; at times entertaining royal and noble visitors ; always hospitable to the poor and needy ; managing and farming large parcels of land; busy, as landlords and landowners. If the gray stones of the old ruins could speak, and tell us of the active and industrious life of the monks, the 1 Paroc, Antiq,, i. p. 94. " Ibid,, i. p. 105. 26 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON story would be full of interest. And the House had its other, unwritten, chronicle; the story of the monks' religious life ; the daUy Masses ; the Divine Office, with the night Hours; the Office for the Dead ; the vigils, the feasts, and the fasts. If the walls of the now Protestant parish church^ could speak, they would tell us of the prayers once offered there ; the solemn Holy Sacrifice ; the Sanctuary Lamp always burning before the Blessed Sacrament; the many altars ; and the continual stream of rich and poor who brought their gifts of praise and prayer to mingle with the Offices of the Church. When Edmund grew older his mother sent him to a grammar school in Oxford. It has been sup posed that the school was one then existing, which was connected with the monastery at Eynsham ; but this is mere conjecture. There were a great number of grammar schools in Oxford; and no manuscript tells us to which one Edmund was sent. The writer of the Lanercost Chronicle mentions a school in St. Mary's churchyard, to which he seems to have gone ; but that was the neighbourhood of very many schools. Edmund was a boy still, only twelve years old, when he left his home, and began his life of work and study in Oxford. The name grammar school, though such schools are now superseded by our public and endowed 1 The present ancient church — the old abbey church — at Abingdon was built towards the close of the thirteenth century. The church which was standing in St. Edmund's time does not now exist. THE GRAMMAR SCHOOLS 27 schools, has lingered for seven hundred years as the distinctive name for the, not elementary, but first classical school for EngUsh boys. It is the school where, as a matter of course, they learn Latin. But the teaching in the grammar schools in Oxford, in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, was closely connected with the entire course of learning at the University ; while the ordinary grammar schools of to-day are isolated institutions, for the benefit of their own immediate vicinities. In the twelfth century the complete course of study at the Uni versity was included in the Trivium and the Quad- rivium. The former was elementary, and comprised Grammar, Logic, Rhetoric ; and the latter embraced the more advanced studies, Arithmetic, Geometry, Music, and Astronomy. Grammar was necessarily the first subject taught in an age when Latin was the common language of the Church, the language in which all learning was pursued, all instruction given, many sermons preached, and all books written. The primary importance of Grammar led to the monopoly of the name grammar school for schools where students in the Trivium, or easier subjects, read, and received instruction. Comparatively only a small minority of those students passed on to the higher curriculum. The grammar schools were, consequently, more numerous, and larger, than the other schools. In either of two ways might a grammar school have its origin. It might be simply a school connected with a religious house. 28 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON and supervised by the religious. Or, a teacher, having passed the Trivium and the Quadrivium, gifted with the love for letters and zeal for learning which characterised many scholars in that age, would gather boys and men around him. The teacher's enthusiasm would find expression in his desire to diffuse as well as to acquire knowledge; and his constantly increasing audience — held to gether by some fine influence, some subtle authority, some personality of the teacher — would grow untU the hall, area, or school, in which he taught, became one among the schools of the University. And, a few years later, this led to the name school having its more technical meaning, and indicating, not the fabric in which lessons were given, but the doctrinal teaching of theologians. The importance of the grammar schools was greater than is at first apparent; for the study of Grammar, Logic, and Rhetoric, had its distinct object and definite end. It led to the wider fields of learning in the Quadrivium. And those schools, again, were but the preparation for a more special study of Theology, for reading the Sentences of Peter Lombard, discussing disputed questions among the schoolmen, or hearing lectures on Canon or Civil Law. Hence Grammar was learnt with the special object of reading the Bible more correctly, and transcribing it more accurately ; whUe Rhetoric and Logic were necessary for better understanding the writings of the Fathers, and acquiring a clearer method THE GRAMMARIANS 29 in contradicting or refuting false doctrine.^ The in struction given in the grammar schools was elemen tary at first; but the more diligent pupUs, while stUl remaining in the grammar schools, soon passed on to higher standards. " Le grammairien," Leon Maitre continues, " expUquait done les bons auteurs, accoutumait ses el(5ves a faire sur le texte I'application de principes, et h remarquer les tours oratoires, la pro priety des termes, les artifices de langage, le mdrite de I'ordre et de la disposition du sujet. La gram- maire ainsi entendue comprenait tout ce que nous embrassons sous le nom d'humanitfe, et de \k vient que le nom de grammairien etait un titre d'honneur." ^ At such a school, and under a good teacher — for we may assume that Mabel was well and wisely ad vised when she sent her son from home for the first time — it is easy to conceive how an intelligent boy, with a natural love for study, a ready enthusiasm, and a keen insight, would make rapid progress. The thirteenth century was a period of great advancement, activity, and change. Men, as it were, opened their eyes, and saw new and untrodden pathways. There were new studies to be pursued ; new ends to be attained; new work needing their best energies, and their highest aspirations. It was essentially an age of devotion, of learning, and of industry. Devotion, which found expression in preaching to the poor, in tending the sick and the lepers, in building cathedrals, and in " seUing all " ^ Les Ecoles Episc, p. 210. " Ibid,, p. 219. 30 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON for the cause of the Church, and " forsaking all " to follow the Standard of the Cross. Learning, which was the outcome of religious life and prolonged study; which received its first stimulus, perhaps, from the pen of Peter Lombard, and bore richer fruit in the unrivalled works of St. Thomas Aquinas, and in the writings of Albertus Magnus, Alexander of Hales, St. Bonaventura, and Scotus. Industry, which built the beautiful cathedral at Salisbury, the nine altars at the east end of Durham Cathedral, the nave of Lincoln, and the choir of Rochester; which built a part of Fountains Abbey, and a part of Beverley the chapter house at Christ Church, Oxford ; and friaries and convents beyond what can here be spoken of. The industry of men who wrote our early books, transcribed Bibles, preserved the chronicles of the time, and have left us our richest treasures. In the hearts and minds of men there was a passionate longing for knowledge, a magnificent power of appUcation, and a supreme steadiness of purpose, which led to great results. And over all, and through aU, a burning faith, to kindle such souls as St. Dominic, St. Francis, St. Clare, St. Louis of France, St. Elizabeth of Hungary ; and, in our England, St. Edmund of Abingdon, St. Richard of Chichester, and St. Thomas of Hereford. The names are many; too many td enumerate. Zeal for religion, and enthusiasm for learning, grew side by side, and were like two missive fires shed ding one light across Europe. Nor is it exaggera- MEDIEVAL SCHOLARS 3 I tion to say that much of that light radiated from Oxford. A great authority, writing about the early Universities of Europe, says, " The ordinary course of study, however, lay between the schools of Paris and Oxford, in which was almost centred the talent of the age, and which were united by the most intimate connection. Happy age, whatever its other inconveniences, happy so far as this, that religion and science were then a bond of union, till the ambition of monarchs and the rivalry of race dis solved it ! Wood gives us a list of thirty-two Oxford professors of name, who in their respective times went to teach in Paris, among whom were Alexander Hales, and the admirable St. Edmund, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury — St. Edmund, who, as St. Anselm and St. Thomas, shows us how sanctity is not inconsistent with pre-eminence in the schools. On the other hand, Bulaeus recites the names of men, even greater, viewed as a body, who went from Oxford to Paris, not to teach, but to be taught; such as St. Thomas of Canterbury, St. Richard, St. Gilbert of Sempringham, Giraldus Cam- brensis, Gilbert the Universal, Haimo, Richard de Barry, Nicholas Breakspeare, afterwards Pope, Nekam, Morley, and Galfredus de Vinsalfe." ^ We can conceive the earnest spirit of the age manifesting itself strongly in the University. And some spirit of emulation there must also have been in the midst of such a concourse of scholars, clerics, ' Historical Sketches, p. 176. 32 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON and masters. In the year 1209, there were three thousand members of the University ; and so rapidly did the numbers increase, with the growing fame of the Oxford schools, that in 1 2 3 1 , we are told, the numbers amounted to thirty thousand,^ though they fell again to half that number in 1263. Easy, also, it is to conceive the freedom and the independence of the Oxford scholars. They lived where they pleased, and as they pleased. The University, as yet a young and unformed body, exercised but little control. And, as the story of Oxford's medieval scholars, their work, and their studies, has been preserved for us ; so, side by side with that brighter history, lives the story of the recklessness, the licence, and the lawlessness, of the men who came to Oxford, not for study, but for amusement, and in accordance with the fashion of the day. Into such a world, full of life, and work, of emu lation, and strife, Edmund was sent at the age of twelve. We are not told if his brother Robert was sent with him when he first left his home at Abingdon; but it is highly probable. The two brothers seem to have been always together. It is most likely that Mabel sent them from home together. It may be that the love which bound them so closely to each other, in later years, was first developed when they, two yoimg boys, alone in the new world of learning, stood side by side before the grammar master, learnt the same lessons, • There is doubt about the correctness of this number. FIRST YEARS AT OXFORD 33 and shared the same chamber ; and together, in the early morning, or in the dusk of evening, hastened to St. Mary's Church, to assist at Mass, or to join in Vespers. At least, it is to the Life of St. Edmund, written by his brother Robert, that we are indebted for the account of Edmund's years at Oxford. Or, if we turn to the Life written by Bertrand, Prior of the abbey at Pontigny, we know that the facts about Edmund's early life must have been furnished by Robert Rich. St. Edmund would not have told them himself. But Robert, the con stant companion, who treasured all that his brother said, and remembered all the incidents of his boy hood, must have suppUed to Bertrand the particulars of those first years at Oxford. The details saved for us are very few; but they are, obviously, told by one who knew the Saint weU, and who was a witness of the facts which he relates. Not only is there no record of what school in Oxford Edmund was sent to ; but we find no men tion of the master whose lectures he heard, or whose teaching he especially followed. What we do gather is, that he passed from the course of studies in the Trivium to the more advanced sub jects in the Quadrivium. Edmund was, if we may judge from the general tone of his biographers, quiet, retiring, studious ; an enthusiastic and diligent scholar ; one who loved his work, and who worked with well-directed ambition. He saw before him the cause of religion, the power to help mankind, c 34 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON and to alleviate suffering ; the power to defend the Church, and to reform evils. Saint-like, he felt his own weakness, his unworthiness, his inability to do any work that should be of value. His humility was as entire as the humUity of a little, wondering child. And it saved him from thought of self, from fear of faUure, and from all false confidence. It led him to do well the work that day by day lay before him. And the boy, growing older, learnt, read, and studied, with a patience and perseverance which many an older man might have longed for. The testimony of " all the masters and scholars dwelling at Oxford, with the whole company of Friars, Preachers and Minors, and of the other reUgious men who lived there," was, that Edmund had learnt, " while he was yet a child, to fast and pray ; and when he became a young man, and was pursuing liberal studies, he walked of his own accord in the way in which he had been previously led. For even then he began to offer to God voluntary sacri fice, freely frequenting the churches, shunning the vain and frivolous amusements in which youth abounds, diligently working to acquire knowledge, not merely flying from the delights of the flesh, but carrjdng ceaselessly in his body the mortification of the Cross of Christ ; with the whole intensity of his mind he sought after the Author of life. He seemed already to understand the proverb, though he had not yet read it, 'A young man according to his way, even when he is old he will not FIRST YEARS AT OXFORD 3$ depart from it : ' and this was really fulfilled in him." ^ And, besides this, looking at Edmund's life as a whole, judging from his success in the schools, and his reputation as a teacher; remembering the names of those who were his pupUs ; knowing how great and how wide-spread was his influence, how convincing and controlling was his eloquence ; no written evidence is needed of his remarkable in tellectual gifts. His name is pre-eminent as a student, as one learned in the sciences of the times, as one most inteUectual, most gifted, most brUUant, among Oxford's medieval scholars. He had genius, and he had faith. And, to him, his genius, his inteUect, his eloquence, his winning words and loving influence, his fearless acts and his uncompromising utterances, were but the means to a great end. He saw only the glory of God, and the need to help souls. All else was dross, and valueless. And, in his humility, his greatest care was for his own sanctification, and that he might preserve a great purity. Regardless of all else that might befall him, indifferent to the praise and the rewards of this world, he laboured un ceasingly to keep his Ufe blameless in the sight of his God. Of the many beautiful stories that are told about Edmund's Ufe at Oxford, one of the most beautiful is, perhaps, that earliest story of how he promised to ' Epist. Univ. Oxoniae. 36 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON persevere in a life of perpetual chastity. When he was yet quite a boy, he used to go to a priest, who was well known at Oxford ; a priest of " great name," the manuscripts tell us. Edmund went to him, not only to confess his sins, but also that he might learn from this spiritual father how to live in the world, and yet avoid the evils. It was with the permission of this priest, or perhaps at his suggestion, that Edmund made his vow. A singular courage, and a quiet determination, characterised this, his first independent act. It must have been an unusual step, a remarkable act, for one so young. All the Lives of St. Edmund tell us about it ; and, else where, in chronicles, it is recorded. And the story, so beautiful in its simplicity, so touching in its evidence of the boy's generous devotion, will always be associated with the Saint's early life at Oxford. St. Edmund went into St. Mary's Church, the most frequented church in the University, where masters and scholars chiefly resorted, and there, "in the presence of his confessor, he promised to give and to vow his unsullied virginity to Mary, the most chaste Mother of God, and to preserve it all the days of his life ; and he recited these words in the church, before the statue of the said Virgin. And then he suddenly rose up, and placed a ring (which he had procured for this purpose) on the finger of the statue, and fitted it on, saying, ' To thee, 0 most pure Virgin of virgins. Mother of my Lord Jesus Christ, I vow, promise, and consecrate, the gift of HIS VOW TO OUR LADY 37 my virginity. With this ring I plight thee my troth, and gratefully adopt thee for my lady and my spouse ; that so I, a virgin, may merit the grace to serve thee, a virgin, better for the future.' And on bended knees he prayed most devoutly before the statue, as though before the Mother of God herself ; and pouring forth such abundant tears, that rivers of water ran down his eyes, he said, ' 0 Lady, my most serene spouse, now most dear to my heart, obtain from thy Son, my Lord, by thy prayers, that I may persevere in the service of you both, and so merit to follow the footsteps of Blessed John the Evangelist.' And after his prayer, when he wished to pluck off the ring which he had placed on the finger of the statue, lest it might be the cause of wonderment to the people, he was not able to do so, though he tried in every way he could. Whereat, rejoicing, he conceived the hope that the Blessed Virgin had favourably accepted his vow." ^ But no histories teU us what drew Edmund to his high resolve : what sights he had seen in the mixed concourse of Oxford scholars, what he had heard, or how he had been tempted, in the licence of that wUd and turbulent throng, where the good and bad mingled freely. Some sights, some practices, revelry, intemperance, and graver sins, must have frightened the boy. And that great fear of sin, strengthening his inborn love for purity, made him turn aside from the crowd of pleasure seekers. It needed some ' Cot. MS., f. 124. 38 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON courage; but Edmund possessed a grand fearless ness. And there were, doubtless, some in the scholar-world who gave him both sympathy and encouragement. Among them, surely, we may reckon his brother Robert, who has so faithfully narrated the facts. For years and years afterwards the story was told, and the statue of our Lady with St. Edmund's ring upon her hand was looked at " frequently " by " the whole University." The writer of the Lanercost Chronicle saw it ; and wrote about it.^ And more than two hundred years after wards the statue still stood in St. Mary's Church; and the story of the young scholar's devotion was talked of, and acknowledged.^ It is mentioned, in some manuscripts, that Edmund had two rings ; one he left on the finger of the statue;, and one he always wore himself, in memory of his vow, and it was on his hand when he died. ' "Nam in exemplum munditiae illibatae istud primo occurrit, quod puerulus intendens Oxoniae grammaticalibus, gloriosae Virginis imaginem, quam saepe, et una cum tota Universitate, vidimus, clam desponsavit, imposito digito Virginis aureo annulo, quod multi postea ooulis conspexerunt." — Chron. de Lanercost, p. 36. "^ In the Lambeth manuscript, under the paragraph which tells about the ring and St. Edmund's vow, is written, in an handwriting of late fifteenth century, '¦ — " Et notandum quod predicta ymago beate virginis super cuius digitura sanctus Edmundus anulum suum posuit situatur in parte Boriali ecclesie sancte Marie Oxonie." CHAPTER III The Lord Jesus, in the Form of an Infant, appears to St. Edmund — St. Edmund sent to Paris — His return to Abing don — His mother's death — His sisters placed at Catesby — He goes again to Paris — His doctor's degree The road from Abingdon to Oxford was often traversed by Edmund and Robert Rich. Most pro bably it was not the road which we know now ; the wide, gravel, grass-bordered road, passing through the upper part of Bagley Wood. There, in spring, the ground under the trees is yellow with myriad primroses, or white with anemones ; or a few weeks later, all blue with wild hyacinths and purple orchids, which again die down, and leave only the tender fern fronds and tangled bracken to last the year out. That, a favourite road with the Oxford scholars of to-day, could hardly have been the road from Abingdon in St. Edmund's time. It is more likely that he walked to Oxford along a road which followed closely the river's winding ; and, passing by the fields of Radley, went through Kennington, as the lower road does now. On the right hand was always the running river : on the left, when first leaving Abingdon, were low-lying pasture-lands ; and, approaching nearer to Oxford, the wood, more forest-hke than now, with darker trees and heavier 40 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON foliage, an under-wood of young hazel, and the ground thick always with saplings, and fern, and flower. Travellers from Abingdon would look across the river, and see the west door and windows of Iffley Church on the opposite side. And the first view of Oxford would be through willow trees, and tall elms, and poplars. Distinct among the trees was the Castle, on the high castle mound; and the city walls could be seen, and St. Frideswide's Church ; some low towers and roofs, and the Hospital of St. John. While all the manuscript Lives of St. Edmund tell the wonderful story of how the Lord Jesus appeared to him as he walked by himself in the fields, very few have actually localised the story. The Life given by Surius has the words "apud Oxoniam." i And the short Life printed in the Chronica de Melsa has "in prato quodam Oxoniae vicino." ^ In each instance the words are printed from some manuscript authority; and this is some evidence that it was in one of the fields near to Oxford, and perhaps also near to Abingdon, that our Lord was seen by the Saint. But even without these instances of the distinct mention of Oxford, the place is clearly indicated by the fact that 1 "Evnti aliquandb apud Oxoniam per pratu quoddam deam- bulandi causa, sodalibus, vt id faceret, eum inuitantibus, ctim se oeleriiis ab illis subduxisset. . . . " — Surius, vi. f. 117. ^ "Dum etiam in prato quodam Oxoniae vicino spatiandi causa seorsum iret, apparuit ei puer speciosus sic inquiens, ' Salve dilecte mi I Miror quod me non agnoscis, . . . cum ad latus tuum in scolis et alibi jugiter assistam.' . . . " — Chron, Mon, de Melsa, i, p. 438. THE LONESOME TREE 4 1 Edmund was still young, and that he was only beginning to associate with older scholars. At Abingdon is a tree, apart from others, and now raUed round with iron railings, known as the " lonesome tree " ; and a tradition still exists that it marks the place where the Divine Infant appeared to the Saint. Such a tradition, when we remember through what years of forgetfulness and ignorance it has lived, has a singular claim upon our confidence. It suggests the thought that unseen Guardians have preserved the knowledge of the ground where the Infant Lord stood, and have kept the memory of His Presence alive in the air around for the faithful to find it again in years long after. Human under standing has rejected the story, and modern writers have tried to bury it in forgetfulness, or would call it a "legend." But the story remains, as plainly told as the more ordinary events in the Saint's life, and with equal authority. And, at Abingdon, the story hovers around the " lonesome tree." Du Boulay, in his History of the Paris University, mentions St. Edmund among the eminent men who studied and taught there. And he says, " Ibi dicitur vidisse Christum specie infantis and cum eo coUo- cutus fuisse."! This does not necessarily imply that the fact spoken of happened at Paris. It might mean that there, in Paris, in connection with St. Edmund's life, the story was current. And this would imply that the event itself was of earlier date. As • Hist, Vniv, Par., iii. p. 679. 42 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON we read the story in the manuscripts, the impression left is that it was certainly near to Oxford that the Infant Jesus was seen. In the Cotton manuscript this beautiful story is told immediately after the account of St. Edmund's vow to our Lady ; no other historical incident coming between. In the Balliol College manuscript it is told very early in the Saint's life ; and certainly not in connection with his life at Paris ; but associated more with his return to Abingdon at his mother's death. The Saint's biographers narrate the fact very carefully, and very vividly : the details are identical, though expressed in different words : — "And for that he, ever most tender towards his Lord, strove with all the affections of his soul to love his Maker ; to him, while yet a child, that same Maker was pleased to reveal Himself in childlike form. For when on a certain day he had arranged, together with his little comrades, to go and sport about in the field, he, notwithstanding, withdrew himself somewhat quickly from their company, lest perchance his spotless conscience might be soiled by some little boyish trifle or idle word. And as he thus went all alone, intent on holy musings, He ' who feedeth among the Ulies and is compassed with flowering roses' appeared unto him gleaming with snowy whiteness, ruddy with the hue of the rose ; who, having as it were suddenly dropped from the clouds, and pouring forth words of nectar from honied lips, thus first addressed him with most THE LORD JESUS APPEARS TO HIM 43 gracious salutation : ' Welcome, my Beloved.' And the other, on hearing Him, was troubled, as a child, at the ChUd's utterance ; and began to marvel within himself as well at the fashion of the greeting, as at the unwonted comeliness of the greeter. "But the ChUd, seeing him affrighted and be wildered at His brightness passing measure, again did speak to him asking, whether he did not, how faintly soever, remember Him. But he with his dove-like simpUcity made simple answer, and said : ' In nowise do I know thee, nor deem that I am known to thee.' " And then that other ChUd aforesaid spake to him yet a third time, and said : ' Much I marvel that I am so little known to thee; especially as I sit by thy side in the schools, and am thy insepar able companion wheresoever thou goest.' Then; ' Look into my face,' saith He, ' and what thou seest written on my brow, note diligently with thy whole heart.' Which when he had done, he read thereon, written in heavenly characters, the name of our Redeemer, Jes^is the Nazarene. And straightway he repeated what he read : and forthwith he heard the other say : ' I am Jesus the Nazarene, and this is my name, by which I, thy heart's desire, shall be present with thee. Sign this every night upon thy forehead, lovingly, letter by letter. Hereby thou, and whosoever shall in like manner imprint this same writing on his brow, mayst find protection against a sudden death.' 44 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON " Thus saying the ChUd ' upon whom the Angels long to gaze ' disappeared ; but in the breast of that child of his whom he deigned to visit he left no small store of sweetness. For as he grew in wisdom and age and favour before God and man, he com mitted to his faithful memory ' the words of the Lord sweeter unto him than honey or the honey comb ' ; tracing carefully each night upon his brow that name ' whereby he who shaU be blessed upon earth, shall be blessed in the Lord.' " ^ And the manuscripts add, that — " The youth Edmund, advancing in age and wisdom before God and men, committed to his faithful memory the ' words of the Lord, which are sweeter than honey and the honey-comb ' ; and that name of Benediction, in which 'he who is to be blessed on earth shall be blessed in the Lord,' he carefully wrote on his forehead every night, as he beareth witness who saw and wrote these things. And we know that his testimony is true. For as one night, as beseemeth a room-mate, he was in his room, and saw him ever writing that glorious name on his forehead, as he had often before beheld him, he (being as he was a man of deep humility) turned to him, saying, ' See that every night thou writest on thy forehead ere thou sleepest, Jesus of Nazareth.' Hearing this, he gratefully adopted such saving advice : and now being informed concerning the account of the event of which he had already heard, 1 Addit. MS., t, 89. HE GOES TO PARIS 45 he could no longer doubt of its truth, especially as that which he had heard from worthy men, and beheld with the evidence of his eyes, he now heard from his own lips." ^ Edmund and Robert Rich started on their journey to Paris as poor men ; poorer than many who went the same road, with the same purpose, before them. The men who went to study at Paris were not always the " poor " scholars of Oxford ; but often they were youths whose industry and special gifts had gained for them friends and patrons. They were helped, often very liberaUy, when they were trying to acquire extra learning at the Paris Uni versity. And such scholars, assisted by generous friends, or helped by the monasteries where they had been educated, or where they were intending ultimately to teach, were not dependent upon the alms they might beg along the road. They travelled easUy, if not comfortably. Poorer scholars, it is granted, led by the simple desire of perfecting them selves in some special schools, or of gaining the more distinguished Paris degrees, accompUshed the same journey on foot; at the sea shore they begged some passage across the channel, in any rough boat ; and then, again, in a new country, amid a strange people, tired, homeless, and often hungry, in small bands of four, or six, or more, they begged their way to the famous University. And it was as poor scholars that Edmund and Robert left Abingdon. 1 Baa, CoU, MS,, ff. 49I', 50. 46 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON Either Mabel had not much money to give to them, or she deemed it best to let them win their position as Paris scholars by facing some hardships and fatigues, and by enduring the humiliations and chance-fortunes of poor foot-travellers. Their lot was no harder than that of many others. Alms, when sought, were sure to be given ; though perhaps sparingly. To contribute to the support of needy, travelling scholars was, in those days, considered a special form of charity. And young men and boys, singing Latin hymns and the Salve Regina at farm house doors, or under the windows of larger houses, were seldom sent away without their portion of coarse bread, and whatever else the householder's table could spare. So Mabel had confidence when she sent her sons forth into the world. They were safer in the road of poverty than they might have been if travelling in comparative comfort. With words of kindness and encouragement Mabel parted from them, and bade them God-speed. If they were obedient, and good sons, they would be pro tected. " I have confidence in God," she bravely affirmed, " that He will provide bountifully for you." And so the brothers started from their home. It is difficult to learn much about Edmund's life at Paris, or to trace the course of his studies while there. Du Boulay's short paragraph, in which he quotes from the Life given by Vincent de Beauvais, reads more like a condensed account of the Saint's life, gleaned from the manuscript Lives, than an AT PARIS 47 independent history based upon separate, and other wise unknown, authorities. It does not say for how long Edmund was at Paris. That he " rexit in artibus per sex annos " ^ is what the Letter from the University of Oxford states ; and this points to Vincent de Beauvais and Du Boulay having quoted from manuscripts at Pontigny, or at Rome, where the original document probably exists. And the words " Erat enim Praedicator egregius, disputator acutissimus, . . ." ^ suggest forcibly a simUar sen tence in the same Letter, and also a sentence in the Letter from the abbot and convent of Abingdon. The Life in the Addit. manuscript tells how temp tation came to St. Edmund, and how he fled from it. The Balliol manuscript relates the same fact. Yet it is not stated whether this happened at Paris, or at Oxford. From its position in the narrative, in the Addit. manuscript, it appears to have been at Paris. The girl who so boldly spoke to Edmund, and tried to tempt him to sin, was the daughter of his host; and this implies that it was at Paris, where Edmund and Robert most Ukely boarded in 1 " Rexit in artibus per sex annos, delude ad Theologiae studia se contulit . . ." — Hist. Vniv. Par, "Porro transactis fere sex annis, quibus in artibus rexerat:" — Epist. Univ. Oxoniae. "Porro transactis fere sex annis quibus in artibus regerat ..." —Cot. MS. [rexerat ?] ^ "Erat enim in lectione sedulus, in disputation e acutus, in praedicatione ferventissimus . . ." — Epist. Univ. Oxoniae. "Erat enim praedicator eximius, doctor egregius, ignitum in praedicaoione & doctrina habens eloquium." — Epist. Conv. Aben. " Erat enim predicator eximius doctor egregius."— Coi. MS. 48 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON some family, whUe they attended lectures at the University. St. Edmund's promise to our Lady was still fresh in his memory ; and his resolve was as firm as when he stood in St. Mary's Church and made his early vow. The remembrance of that vow helped him ; and his horror of sin made him turn unhesitatingly away from a temptation, the thought of which only filled him with shame and dread. WhUe Edmund was at Paris, his mother became very ill, and he was sent for, that she might see him once again. It was a sudden call. Edmund hastened back to England, and reached Abingdon in time to see his mother, and to receive her parting injunctions, and her last blessing. The favourite son, who had been loved tenderly, taught and trained carefully ; who had known something of his mother's life of prayer, and had understood her hopes for her children, and especially her earnest desire for his sanctification; the son who had learnt to pray, kneeling by her side, and who had remembered her warnings and followed her precepts when away from her, now stood by her side, to comfort her in her last .hours. The very simple narrative of her death shows how great the consolation of his presence must have been to her. "When the death of his mother was at hand. Blessed Edmund went to her on her summons, his other brothers being absent, and with all devotion received her last blessing. Now when she with the HIS MOTHERS DEATH 49 greatest affection had blessed him, he turned to her again and humbly begged that she would be pleased to bless his absent brothers. Then his mother said : ' Did I not bless thee, my Son ? ' ' Certainly, Mother,' he answered. Then she said : ' Be assured, my Son, that in thee all thy brothers are blessed.' For his mother knew what and how great he was to be. In a sleepless night, she had seen him bearing on his head a crown of thorns brightly blazing, whose flame rose towards the sky." ^ Edmund felt his mother's death much. To him her death was no ordinary loss. And yet he had the assurance that she, going before, would not be dead to him; their prayers for each other would not cease. It is no small part of the blessedness of the faith of Catholics, that death, the devout death of the faithful, means scarcely a separation from those who linger here; but, it may be, a greater nearness to them. It is often after the death of one dearly loved, that " soul to soul strikes through a finer element of her own." And so, we shaU see, it was with Mabel and her son Edmund. It appears to have been at about this time that Edmund spent a year at the monastery at Merton, in Surrey. — " Then likewise the Father, before he was public professor of theology, for a year or more lived con tinuously in the house and convent of Merton ; and afterwards for a long period he used to go in and 1 Ball, CoU, MS,, f. 49. D so SAINT EDMUND OF ABESTGDON out of the cloister like one of the sons of that church. For some of the friars took the greatest delight in the holy man's cojiversation, and were comforted by his counsels, and unspeakably admired his way of life. For though living in the world, he had trodden the world under foot ; and young in years, he exceUed all his elders in faith, learning, knowledge, and counsel. And, what is marvellous to set down, when he ranked among the scholars, he seemed among them not merely reUgious, but the exemplar of all religion. For he was diligent in his studies, and meditations, in his prayers most devout, always unceasing in fasts and vigils, not losing a single hour of the morning Offices in sleep, but attending at all with the friars, as if he had devoted himself to their duty." -^ St. Edmund's first care, after his mother's death, was to find a convent where his sisters would be received. He made many journeys to different houses, for he was especially anxious about an home for his sisters. He wanted them to be received with no thought of how much money they might bring to the house ; but simply as ordinary girls, wishing to enter religion, and able to contribute their portion towards the income of the community. Any thought beyond that shocked his strict sense of what religious life, in its aims, and in its practice, should be. He refused to let his sisters offer any large sum of money ; but waited untU he could find 1 Cot. MS., f. 127. MARGARET AND ALICE RICH 51 a convent willing to receive them only because they would be, or might be, good religious, and with no thought about any other benefit to the house. " Edmund's mother, when the time of her last sleep was come^^entrusted his two sisters to him, with a certain sum of money, that he might obtain their entrance into religion. And though he was solicitous to fulfil this intention, he could not suc ceed except on condition that, contrary to all right, he would express what he was willing to give with them ; a thing which he refused to do. At length he went to Catesby ; and before he spoke to the prioress, she called him by his own name, though she had never seen him, and mentioned to him the business for which he had come, telling him to send his sisters to her, and she would make nuns of them ; and so it was done." ^ Edmund left his sisters in the care of the prioress ; and, in the course of time, they took the vow of religion, and became nuns. Matthew Paris tells us that they also held office at Catesby; and, ac cording to his account, Alice must have been elected prioress when her sister died, and then only lived a few months. Alice appears to have died in the same year as her sister Margaret. — (a.d. 1257.) "About the same time died Margaret, Prioress of Catesby ; sister of St. Edmund, Archbishop of Canterbury ; a woman of great sanctity, through whose renowned merits miracles were wrought." ^ 1 BaU. CoU. MS., ff. 49, 49'>. ^ Matt. Paris, f. p. 621. 52 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON (a.d. 1257.) "In the same year also died Dame Alice, Prioress of Catesby; sister of St. Edmund, Archbishop of Canterbury; a nun of wonderful sanctity and innocence, at whose tomb miracles are said to have been wrought." ^ The convent at Catesby was never a rich con vent; but the house was known for its kindly deeds, and the piety of its inmates, and it retained its good reputation to the last of its days. The suppression of the convent, under Henry VIIL, is one of the saddest and blackest among the deeds of the Protestant reformation. Cromwell's com missioners were sent, in 1536, to visit the house. And, after their visitation, they wrote, — " We found the house in very perfect order, the prioress a wise, discreet, and religious woman, with nine devout nuns under her, as good as we have ever seen. The house stands where it is a great relief to the poor, as we hear by divers trust worthy reports. If any reUgious house is to stand, none is more meet for the King's charity and pity than Catesby. We have not found any such elsewhere. Before labour be made to its detri ment with the King, show him these letters, till we have time to inform you of our full certificates. Catesby, 1 2 May. — Signed : Edmund Knyghtley — John Lane — George Giffard — Robert Burgoyn." ^ And a letter from the prioress to Cromwell is still extant. It was written in the same year, • Matt. Paris, v. p. 642. ^ Calendar, x. p. 858. THE CONVENT AT CATESBY 53 1536. In it she reminds Cromwell that the queen had offered the king 2,000 marks for the convent, but had received no certain answer. And — " I beg you in my great sorrow, get the King to grant that the house may stand, ' and get me years of payment for the 2,000 marks. You shall have 100 marks of me to buy you a gelding, and my prayers during my life, and my sisters during their lives.' I hope you have not forgotten the report the Commissioners sent of me and my sisters." ^ Yet there was no mercy even for such nims. The commissioners returned to Catesby ; and the work of suppression was commenced. " The royal officers seized plate to the value of .^29. 4s., sold the furniture of the house, with the vestments and other ornaments of the church, for more than .^400, and estimated that the lead, which had been torn from the roof and melted, would bring in ;£¦ 1 1 o more, besides ;^3 for the broken metal of two handbells." ^ Then must have been destroyed the gifts which St. Edmund, when he was dying, sent to his sisters. " Nor,'' we read, " though at the point of death, was the pious brother forgetful of the holy women, his sisters, who were nuns at Catesby. To them he sent his ash-coloured pallium, made of the cloth commonly called camelot, together with a lambs- wool cloak ; and, besides, a silver tablet on which 1 Calendar, x. p. 383. ^ H. 8, Eng. Monast., ii. p. 211. 54 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON was engraved an image of the Blessed Mary, with her Son in her arms, the Passion of Christ, and the martyrdom of St. Thomas. Through which things, to this day preserved at Catesby, where they were then venerated, the Lord works miracles worthy to be remembered for all times." ^ Now, at Catesby, only a few remains of the old convent buildings still stand. The Benedictine nunnery, where St. Edmund's sisters Uved, toiled, and prayed, as good religious, is almost forgotten. There is no certain statement, beyond what Du Boulay says, as to whether Edmund took a doctor's degree in theology at Paris ; though there has been always a general belief that he did. The absence of all dates in the manuscript Lives makes it im possible to decide this question. Yet there is much indirect evidence which would lead us to think that his doctor's degree was taken at Oxford ; or, it might be, at Oxford first, and at Paris in later years. Edmund was sent to Oxford at the age of twelve. He went to Paris soon after his six or seven years devoted to the Trivium and Quadrivium. It is not implied that he remained at Paris for very long ; not for any number of years. He was recalled to England by his mother's illness. After her death, he did not at once hasten back to Paris ; but he spent some time in finding a convent for his sisters ; and, it seems, he spent a year at the monastery at Merton. He afterwards went again 1 Cot. MS., f. 147. HE GOES AGAIN TO PARIS 5 5 to Paris; but the manuscripts do not speak of his being there for very long. His biographers pass on quickly to his life in England; and to his preaching in the neighbourhood of Oxford. And all this points to his having been only a few years at Paris. The approximate age for lecturing in theology at the Paris University was thirty- five.^ And to lecture implied the doctor's degree. Edmund was at Paris about the year 1 2 1 5 ; but we cannot be sure that he was so old as thirty- five. He was more probably only twenty-five, or twenty-seven. Brother Nicholas Triveti, of the Order of Preachers, in England, distinctly speaks of St. Edmund as being doctor of theology at Oxford.^ The Abingdon Letter speaks of him as " second to no doctor in the English Church." ^ And the Letter from the University of Oxford shows that soon after his mother's death, taught by her in a dream, he " betook himself to the study of theology " ; and he made such progress, that quickly " by the advice of ' "Circa statum Theologorum statuimus, quod nuUus Parisius legat citra 35. aetatis annum, & nisi studuerit per octo annos adminus, & libros fideliter & in Scholis audiuerit, & quinque annis audiat Theologiam antequam privatas lectiones legat public^, & illorum Nullus legat ante tertiam in diebus quando Magistri legunt. NuUus recipiatur Parisius ad lectiones solennes, vel ad praedica- tiones, nisi probatae vitae fuerit & scientiae. Nullus sit Scholaris Parisius qui certum Magistrum non habeat." — Hist. Vniv. Par., iii. p. 82. ' " Doctor vero theologiae factus Oxoniae." — Annales, p. 228. ' " . . . nulli Auglicanae ecclesiae doctori fuerit secundns." — Epist, Conv, Aben. 56 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON many he ascended the professorial chair." ' As these Letters were distinctly to witness to St. Edmund's life at Oxford, it must be allowed that the doctor's degree alluded to was taken at Oxford. And so we are able to look to St. Edmund as the first person recorded to have taken a degree at the great English University. The statement that Edmund was a regent in arts for six years refers to his life at Oxford. That he was " still cursorily lecturing on arithmetic to some of his fellows " ^ might imply that he was giving cursory lectures in arithmetic. The difference between the ordinary and the cursory lectures at the University is not very clearly explained. The cursory lectures appear to have been given in certain subjects as preparatory to the ordinary lectures. A cursor was regarded as a preparatory teacher, who would not venture beyond the elements of his subject. Ordinary lectures could only be given by regent masters; but cursory lectures might be given by masters or by bachelors.^ We might, therefore, conclude that Edmund was beginning to give cursory lectures; that is, lectures which were elementary, and could only be given at hours when ordinary lectures were not given ; ' " . . . statim ad studium theologiae se transtulit, in quo tam mirabiliter in brevi profecit, quod cito post paucos annos snadentibus multis cathedram magistralem ascendit." — Epist. Univ. Oxoniae. 2 " . . . ipso adhuc cursim legente arithmeticam quibusdam sociis suis . . . " — Ibid. " Hist. Univ. Oxford, p. 227. HIS DOCTORS DEGREE 57 lectures which were less formal, and might be given by younger men ; when he was warned by his mother to relinquish secular studies, and to apply himself to theology. The word " cursim " may not refer to the cursory lectures at all ; but if it does, and the word " adhuc " leads to this conclusion, it tends to prove that Edmund was young when he began to study theology. Yet it would not prove whether he was at Oxford or at Paris. But, however much we may incline to the belief that most of the details given in the different Lives of our Saint refer to his life at Oxford, the questions, how long he was at Paris, and whether certain incidents occurred there, or at Oxford, must always remain open questions. It must be remembered, however, that early in the thirteenth century, both at Paris and at Oxford, the name "master," or " doctor," was not accorded to one who had passed any definite examination, but to one who had read in certain schools for a specified length of time, and was distinguished in disputations ; and, on account of that success, as well as for his seniority in the schools, was licensed to lecture. The title of " master," or " doctor," in any Faculty, necessarUy implied a long residence in the University, a long course of reading in the schools of the Faculty in which the degree was given, a reputation above others in disputations, and an intention to continue in the University for a given number of years as a teacher, or regent master. And it appears that 58 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON Edmund certainly fulfilled these requirements at Oxford, though it is not certain that he did at Paris ; or, if he did at Paris also, it must have been in later years, after he had gained his Oxford degree. Paris was the larger University, its Faculty of theology was more celebrated ; and the fact that Edmund had studied in what was generally regarded as the great Ecclesiastical University must have added considerably to his reputation as a doctor in theology. It is worthy of note, that while the manuscript Lives of the Saint, and the early documents which speak of him, mention many names of men who were his friends, his pupils, or his associates, in England ; there is no mention of any who were his pupils, or his special friends, in Paris. And while many places in England, and connected with Oxford, are spoken of in the manuscripts, there is absolute sUence about Paris, except the mention of the Church of St. Mederic,^ where St. Edmund went daUy to be present for the Divine Office. There is, indeed, the beautiful account of how " the overflowing compassion, which he always had for the poor and the afflicted, cannot be sufficiently expressed. WhUe he was hearing lectures on Holy Scripture, he sold a beautiful Psalter with gloss, the five Books of Moses, the Book of the twelve Prophets with gloss, the Decretals, and the Epistles, and he gave the money to poor scholars at Paris. ' Addit. MS., f. 94b. HIS GREAT CHARITY 59 And when his companions wondered that he should act thus against the practice of all students, he replied to one who asked him about it, ' 0 fool ! for love of Christ everything ought to be sold, and given to the poor.' Likewise was he moved by compassion, and offered an hundred marks to a doctor for healing the arm of a poor scholar at Paris whose hand was very sore. For he was then rich." ^ The Letter from the University of Oxford gives the fuUest account of how St. Edmund was led to give up his secular studies and reading, and become a student of theology. The Balliol manuscript gives the same account, and in the same words, except some sUght and unimportant difference in the last sentence. And here we may trace the fact that the monk of Pontigny, who is supposed to have written the original Life, of which the Balliol manuscript is a transcript, must have copied word for word what was written about the Saint by his contemporaries at Oxford. The writer of the Life in the original manuscript has, in this instance, copied from the document sent to Rome by the Prior of the Dominicans at Oxford, and also from the Letter from the University of Oxford. And this is some proof that the facts related occurred at Oxford, and not at Paris. 1 Ball. Coll. MS., f. 55. CHAPTER IV Medieval Oxford — The Palace of the Beaumonts — Royal visits to Oxford — St. Edmund in Oxford — His School — His friends and pupils — Robert Rich — Robert Bacon — Richard of Dun stable — Sewal, Archbishop of York — Stephen of Lexinton- — And others The Oxford which we know and think of to-day is so different to the Oxford of the early part of the thirteenth century, that it is difficult, even vaguely, to realise what the city was then like : and the difference in the University is even greater. Take from Oxford the picturesque colleges, the beautiful chapels, cloisters, and gardens ; and imagine, instead, only St. Frideswide's Church,^ "St. Mary's- by-the-river- Thames," as it was then caUed, and the conventual buildings ; the old church dedicated to St. Ebba, which was then surrounded by a large grave-yard ; St. Peter's-in-the-East, one of the earliest stone churches, which people journeyed miles to see; St. Mildred's, near to School Street ; St. Michael's tower, of Saxon rubble-work, which, like St. Frides wide's, has stood the wear and weather of nearly seven centuries since the time we speak of. Around these buildings were narrow streets crowded with small and ill-lighted houses, open shops, and taverns; 1 Ch. Ch. Cathedral. 6a MEDIEVAL OXFORD 6 1 a cattle market in the High Street, where also stood the sellers of hay and straw ; butchers' stalls under the walls of St. Martin's Church ; ^ an open market for corn in the street which still retains its name; and numberless courts, entries, and poorly -built lodging houses. And all enclosed by the fine city wall, with its gates and posterns, as grand and as fair as any city wall could be. Such was the City. And the University, hardly a corporate body until the middle of the thirteenth century, had no im portant buildings ; but consisted chiefly in the many halls, inns, schools, and areas, where lectures were given, and where disputations were held. There was St. Mary's Church, then a Norman building and without the high spire ; and the old Congrega tion house, where, a few years later, the " chests " were kept. School Street, with its thirty-two schools, was conspicuous as the centre for disputations and lectures. Sydyerd Street,^ also, was well known, where the parchment vendors and illuminators drove their busy trades. Libraries there were not; but in St. Mary's Church were books chained to desks, for the use of scholars ; and sometimes the chests, in the days of chests, contained unredeemed manu scripts, which were sold at the discretion of the keepers. In Oxford, then, the narrow streets were unpaved, dirty, dusty, dark, and crowded by a throng of scholars, masters, and clerics. Oxford was peopled by a mixed gathering, young and old, ' Carfax. " Oriel Street. 62 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON rich and poor, from many countries, and from many towns. It was a busy world of men, all hustled together amid learning, teaching, quarrelling, and fighting. Yet, under such rugged exterior circum stances, many an one lived quietly his scholar-life ; and most were holding faithfully to their Catholic belief and practice. Outside the city wall was Oseney Abbey ; but it was the old abbey, before the large house and grand church were built. The royal Palace of the Beau monts stood in the open fields beyond the North Gate ; and farther east was the house of the Austin Friars,^ and Holy Cross Church,^ and the Hospital of St. John ^ near to the river. Oseney Abbey had often distinguished visitors. The rapidly growing University attracted foreigners, and men of rank, as well as scholars ; and the quarrels between students and townsmen, and the wrongs of clerics and lay men, needed ecclesiastical interposition, arbitration, and censure. The Palace of the Beaumonts was not only a favourite residence of Henry I., who had been educated at Abingdon, and who loved letters, and the companionship of scholars ; but it continued to be a royal residence for succeeding monarchs. Richard I. was born at the Palace of the Beau monts.* Many famous councils were held at Oxford, at the close of the twelfth century. King John often visited the teity. He held parliaments, or ^ Wadham CoUege. ^ Holywell. ' Magdalen College. * Hist. Angl., i. p. 308. BEAUMONT PALACE 63 large councils, here. In the year 1204, "on the day after the Circumcision, the king and nobles of England met in conference at Oxford. There mili tary aids were granted to the king ; to wit, two-and- an-half marks on each knight's fee. Nor did even the bishops, abbots, or clergy, depart without making a promise." ^ Beaumont Palace was not unfrequently a winter residence, we may judge ; for King John kept Christmas there, in 1206.' Henry III. spent the Christmas of 1 2 2 1 ' at Oxford ; and the Christ mas of 1223 ;* and the Christmas of 1229.' And in February, 1227, "the king called together a councU at Oxford, and there, in the presence of all, proclaimed that he was of lawful age, and might therefore be in future free from guardianship, and himself directly manage the king's affairs." ® And there were other, and sometimes turbulent, councils at Oxford, in Henry's time. The Oxford world was full enough of state affairs, gorgeous assembhes, traffic, turmoil, work, business, and the coming and going of people of importance.' In the midst of that multitude of people and things, which we find it hard to realise, or to picture to ourselves, St. Edmund lived. Day after day he might be seen, walking in the city, entering the churches, present at disputations, lecturing in the schools, reading parchment pages, or lingering ' Hist. Angl., ii. p. 100. ^ Ibid., p. 106. ' Ibid., p. 243. * Ibid., p. 253, ^ Ibid., p. 306, ' Ibid,, p. 293. 64 SAINT EDMUND OF ABESTGDON by the stalls in Sydyerd Street. Can we venture to describe him ? — He was quiet, studious, unobtrusive ; his slight form was clad in a long gray habit; his face was delicate and fine; he had the far-away look of habitual recollection, yet always a radiant smile for the friend, or pupil, who sought his help. He had a gentle manner, that was devoid of all self-consciousness; and a winning voice ever ready to plead with careless pupils, or to praise and en courage the timid workers. There is no one descrip tion of him that we can turn to, which would give the impression left by the various mentionings of him in the different manuscripts. Yet we gather, with a great certainty, what he was like. " And, in disputations, as he was learned in grammar, and armed with dialectic, and likewise equipped with eloquence, the features of his speech were most fair and bright, without spot or wrinkle. And his own features, such was the kindness he had received of God, were equally well proportioned, touched with a fine and joyous grace, and fresh complexioned above and beyond all the other disputants." -^ And as he passed by the hostels, or by the schools ; as he stole out in the early mornings to assist at Mass, at St. Mary's, or at St. Mildred's; as he entered the school, or took his place in the master's chair ; no man was better known, more dearly loved, or more truly venerated. Antony a Wood wrote about St. Edmund, — i' Addit MS., i, 95b. HIS SCHOOLS AND PUPILS 6 5 " I . That certaine Schooles he had in this Vniusity is evidently apparent from dius authours, & particu larly from y* Anonimus quoted in my History sub an. 1224, but in w' parish or street they stood I know not, unless in y' house afterwards called S. Edmunds Hall in Schoolstreet in S. Maries parish, of w"*" elswhere. " 2. That dius famous persons were his Auditors & admirers in y" said Schooles, among w"*" were Bob, Grosseteste, who afterwards wrot difls Epistles to him, in one of w"** he speakes of his serpentina prudentia & eolumbina simplicitas &c. then Rob, Bacon who being afterwards his beloved companion wrote his life, attributed by Leland to Roger Bacon. Rich, Fissacre an eminent Dominican, Rog. Bacon a Franciscan with others mentioned elswhere. " 3. That from these his Schooles sprung many persons well grounded in academicall letters, of w"'' were those 7 monks y* were translated to Isle of Wyght, mentioned in my History 122 1. " 4. That in y^ said Schooles he read Aristotles Elenchs, being y' first as I haue elswhere told y° y* read them in this Vniusity, w"*" being suddenly receiued & embraced by y* generalitie of y" Aca- demians, y" force & power of them became great & infinite before K. Ed. I began to sway y® scepter of this kingdome. " 4.^ That euery day before he read, he was wont to heare masse, y* w* y* he might doe more 1 Sic E 66 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON deuoutly, built a chappell in honour of y* virgin Mary (a Saint much admired by him) in y" parish where he lined, in w"*" chappell were, after he had left Oxford and long after, solemne masses celebrated to his memory. " 5. That w" he read in y" Schooles he was if you will belieue old authours assisted by an Angell in y" shape of a beautifuU yong man. " To conclude soe precious was y® memory of this pious & learned person, occasioned by his dUigent reading, teaching & writing y' nothing could be imagined more, his life y' was wrote by dius. viz. by Rob, Bacon, Rob, Riche his brother, m' Albertus Archbishop of liuonia & Prussia & legat of j^ Apos- tolihe seat, was receiued into y° hands of all vertuous men to y" end it might be an example to them : nay his well called after his name situated on y' south side of S. Clements neare Oxford, was not onely venerated by y" Academians but also Pilgrims who purposely came to doe their deuoir to it. y* last especially, euen soe much upon occasion of miracu lous cures y* it did doe on them & other layhs as was supposed y* y® Diocisan strictly forbad their frequenting it 1291."^ Among St. Edmund's friends and pupUs at Oxford, there were one or two who are remembered in his tory chiefly through their devotion to him. Their names come before us, not exclusively on account of their own Uves, their piety, or their work ; but more 1 Wood, MS. ROBERT RICH 67 especially because they were his constant com panions, loving him, and "very dearly loved" by him. They lived, learning the way of life from his words, and from his example ; they gladly followed by his side when the path of Ufe was, for him, diffi cult and rugged; they gave up preferments and honours, and deemed it their highest guerdon that they might remain faithful to him ; and those who were free to do so, voluntarily followed him into exUe. His brother Robert claims our first thought. Robert must have been the Saint's earliest com panion, at home, and at school ; and he was with him at Oxford, and at Paris. Robert lived side by side with him, and knew him more intimately than others could have known him. Robert remembered the beautiful incidents of Edmund's early life ; knew his work, and his labours; witnessed the struggle and the pain of his quarrel with the king ; and went with him into exile. Robert was with Edmund in his last Ulness ; and he was with him when he died. And Robert, with no word about himself, no mention of his own share in any act or work of that glorious life, has left us a written account of the brother he so faithfully served and followed.^ Robert, who was " enriched as his own brUliant deserts demanded, untU he shone with a bright dower of rare holiness, of cheerful Uberality, and of deep learning,"^ was content to live only as Edmund's brother and com- I Addit. MS., 15,264, f. 87. ^ Cot. MS,, f. 123. 68 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON panion ; and he was glad to be known to posterity only by that title. Robert Bacon, who is supposed to have been uncle to the celebrated Roger Bacon, was a Dominican friar, the first Englishman who joined the Dominican Order in England, and the first of the English Dominicans who wrote books. Robert Bacon, though many years older than Edmund Rich, was Edmund's pupil ; and, afterwards, his fellow lecturer, and great friend. It may have been that the close intimacy with Robert Bacon led to the friendship which cer tainly existed between St. Edmund and many mem bers of the Dominican Order in England. There was, naturally, much sympathy between the great Oxford teacher, and a band of men so devoted, and so distinguished, as were the sons of St. Dominic. Brother Nicholas Triveti, of the Order of Preachers, tells us that St. Edmund "was especially attached to the Friar Preachers, and always had some mem bers of the Order with him."^ Nicholas Triveti wrote not many years after St. Edmund's time ; and his Annales show how continually the Saint's manner of life, and his great sanctity, were spoken of among the Dominican friars. The Annales record how, " One of them, a very old and reUgious man, used to relate of him, in our hearing, as follows. One day, when distinguished guests had been invited to the archbishop's table, and he himself was, con trary to his custom, late in coming to dinner ; Master ' Annales, p. 228. BROTHER ROBERT BACON 69 Richard, his chancellor, who was more intimate with him than the rest, went to the chapel where he was wont to pray, to call him. He opened the door somewhat, and looking in, saw him raised a great space from the ground, praying, with bended Imees and hands joined and stretched out. Presently, coming to the ground, he turned to the chancellor, and lamented with sighs that he had hindered him from the greatest delights : and added, that in that sweetest contemplation he had seen the souls of King Richard, and Stephen, Archbishop of Canterbury, delivered from purgatory. The same friar used also to say, that though he was a man of wonderful abstinence, yet he kept his table furnished with delicate dishes, of which, however, he partook only with such condiments as entirely destroyed the pleasure of taste." ^ Nicholas Triveti also tells us of the friendship between Robert Bacon and Richard Fishacre. Con tinuing his account of St. Edmund, he says, " His partner in his school was Master Robert Bacon, who, when he was professor of theology at Oxford, entered the Order of Preachers. After his entrance, he continued his lectures for several years in the schools of St. Edward. Under him, first of all the friars. Master Richard Fishacre took the doctor's degree. The latter taught with the aforesaid Friar Robert in the schools which the friars then had, lower than the place they now dwell in." ^ And ^ Annales, p. 229. ^ Ibid., p. 229. 70 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON this friendship is spoken of by Echard. He wrote that Brother Robert Bacon and Brother Richard Fishacre were undivided in life, and in death.-' Matthew Paris also speaks of them, telling us that, " in the same year two brothers of the same Order, than whom none were greater, indeed it is be lieved that they had no equals, in theology and in the other sciences ; to wit. Brother Robert Bacon and Brother Richard Fishacre, who lectured in the same Faculty for a great many years, and preached the word of the Lord gloriously to the people of the world, departed from this life to God." => Robert Bacon was well known in the University. He had gained an high reputation. In 1233, when the king was at Oxford, and a great number of bishops, waiting for an assembly of the barons. Brother Robert Bacon was deputed to preach before them. It was an important occasion; and we shall have to speak about it later on. Robert Bacon wrote Liber super Psalterium.. — Lectiones Ordinariae. — Sermonum variorum summam, — Glossas in plures sacrae scripturae libros? But he will always be best known by his Veriloquium ac breuiloquium,^ the loving evidence which he bore to St. Edmund's saintly life at Oxford. It is a vivid description of how the saint lived ; and it tells, in simple words, many of the characteristic incidents of his life of 1 Echard, i. p. i8. ^ Matt. Paris, v. p. i6. » Echard, i. p. Ii8. ¦» Cot, MS,, ff. I35b-i36. HIS GENEROSITY 7 I prayer, and of his devotion to his pupils. In it we read that St. Edmund "was kind and very gentle to others ; but most harsh to himself; saying that the olive keeps the bitterness of its root for itself; but pours forth to others the sweetness of its oU and light, with refreshment. He carried neither purse, nor bag for money; but would place, or rather throw, any money he re ceived from his pupUs upon his window-ledge, as it were, within reach of all; and whence it was often stolen ; and, taking dust, he said, ' Dust to dust, and ashes to ashes.' WhUe regent in arts, he heard Mass every day before entering the schools; and also accustomed his scholars to assist at Mass, in like manner with himself. It happened, too, that one of his pupils had a wound in his arm, which he went and showed to his master, Edmund, who said, ' May God heal thee.' The next day he returned, and said that he was healed. And, according to what Master Edmund told me, he bore the scholar's wound in his own arm for some time." The narrative goes on to say, that, " he would always kiss his Bible before opening it. The few books of Holy Scripture which he possessed when he was at Paris, he sold, even at the time when he was attending lectures on them, and gave the price to poor scholars." ^ In the same manuscript we read how "Walter, Archbishop of York, was very dear to Master 1 Cot. MS,, f. I37*>. 72 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON Edmund; and offered him, as he was a very special and loving friend, to have the whole Bible, with glosses transcribed for him. This Edmund refused; answering, that he was afraid the arch bishop would put a burden on the abbeys and priories, taking their writers and deputing them to this task. He preferred rather to go without books, than that religious should be burdened in this manner for him." ^ Brother Richard of Dunstable, who was Prior of the Dominicans at Oxford, has given his testi mony to the life of holiness, learning, and industry, which St. Edmund lived when he was a teacher in our University. Richard, the prior; Stephen, the subdeacon ; Robert, the priest ; and Eustace, the monk; four men, who had known St. Edmimd personally, and for some years, wrote about him, as friends might well write of one whom they had loved and valued. There is a special charm in many of the sentences of this rare and valuable manuscript. It commences, — " I, Richard of Dunstable, of the Order of Brothers Preachers, would fain describe the life and manners of the most glorious confessor, Edmund, of happy memory, late Archbishop of Canterbury, if the poverty of my own genius may suffice. Be that as it may. According to what I myself saw and heard, dming nearly ten years in which I Uved about his person, before I entered the 1 Cot, MS,, f. 137b, HIS MANNER OF LIFE 73 above named Order, of these things I bear witness. In the first place, I confess and give glory to God Almighty, that, though I often stood by him at dinner, and very fr-equently served him, I never remember to have seen him eat what was in my judgment a full meal. He drank very sparingly. On the sixth day of the week, throughout the whole year, he was wont to fast on bread and water ; nor do I remember his breaking this fast, unless by reason of serious illness, or some great festival, or rarely on account of some important guest. He used to eat coarse food. As for delicacies, he either did not touch them at all, or partook of them seldom or scantUy. But this he laid down as a law for himself, and held to firmly, that the more costly and delicate the food or drink was, the less he took of it. . . . He wore clothes of a gray colour as often as possible ; and these were neither too costly, nor too poor, but of a medium sort, as befitted the dignity of a cleric. He used to wear an hairshirt next to his skin ; and this he took the utmost pains to hide fr'om aU, both in putting it on, and in taking it off. He was wont to sleep, clothed and belted; nor did he altogether enter his bed ; but he used to take his rest on a bench before the bed, or else by leaning against the bed itself. . . . The graces of hospitality he denied to no man. He begged large alms for the poor and needy. He himself never knowingly accepted gifts from those in want ; but, according to the Gospel precept, he gave freely to 74 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON all who asked him. The other signs of his holiness, who could relate in full ? The zeal for souls, which he had; the grace, and fervour; the fruit, too, of his preaching, which the Lord had granted to him ; his humility, his patience, his gentleness, and all his other virtues ; if I were to touch on these things, even briefly, I fear lest, by the length of my account, I should burden the ears of Your Holiness already occupied with so many matters. Therefore let this much, briefly touched upon, suffice for the present concerning his life and manners." ^ This same Richard of Dunstable is mentioned in the Letter from the University of Oxford. The writers of that Letter appeared to have seen the ori ginal document, which was sent from the Dominican House to the Holy Father, for the Letter says, — " In truth, there are some among us who, whUe he lived, cleaved to his side for a long time ; namely. Brother Robert Bacon, professor of theology at Oxford, and Brother Richard of Dunstable, Prior of the Friar Preachers in the same place. By their report, besides many things which we have already mentioned, we have also learned that the holy man, from the time that he taught in arts, seldom or never entered a bed; but that, clothed and belted, lying in front of his bed, he refreshed his body with scanty sleep, and spent the rest of the night in meditation and prayer." Sewal, who was afterwards Archbishop of York, • CC.C, MS., pp. 375-77. SEWAL, ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 75 was one of St. Edmund's pupUs at Oxford ; and is described as "his best beloved and special pupil," one in whom Edmund took great and special interest, as if foreseeing the hard and trying life that awaited him in the future. And Sewal, on his part, learned readily. He grasped not merely the subject-matter of lectures ; he was attracted not oiUy by the rare store of knowledge with which Edmund delighted those who listened to him ; but he was moved and affected by the earnestness and the enthusiasm of the teacher whose daily Ufe was the exponent of the highest lessons he endeavoured to teach. And so Sewal, as Matthew Paris has written, " following step by step in St. Edmund's footsteps, as one who had attended his lectures in the schools, and had been a pupU and feUow-scholar, strove with great success to resemble his master, and to conform to his customs. Nor do I deem it right to omit to men tion that St. Edmund, when lecturing on theology at Oxford, was wont to say to this his best beloved and special pupil, ' You, Sewal, will pass away from this world by a martyr's death.' " ^ Richard de la Wych, Bishop of Chichester, who was the most devoted of all St. Edmund's friends, was not, as far as we can ascertain, ever his pupU. It was a friendship of later years. He was Edmund's chanceUor, and his wise counsellor; the one who helped him in the difficulties of his position, and in his work as archbishop. Richard's name will be 1 Matt. Paris, v. p. 691. 76 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON prominent among the names of those who stood by Edmund when troubles were thick around him, and who learned the secret of saintliness by following near to him. But among Edmund's pupUs at Oxford we must not fail to mention Stephen of Lexinton, who, in later years, was one of his greatest friends. For three things St. Edmund " had a special grace ; to wit, lecturing, disputation, and preaching. But his influence was greatest in lecturing. Often when he lectured, many of his scholars, great men, shut up their books, because they could not restrain their tears. Hence, from his school many distin guished doctors came forth ; and many beneficed clergymen, and others, embraced religious life. One night, in sleep, he saAv burning in his school a great fire, from which seven blazing brands were drawn out. Next day, as he sat in his professor's chair, the Abbot of Quarr, of the Cistercian Order, came in ; and when the lecture was over, took away with him, and made monks of, seven of his scholars, who were inflamed, we may suppose, with the divine fire. Among these was Master Stephen of Lexinton." ^ Antony k Wood also teUs us, that " as y" Vniusity was now in hopes of enioying learned men because diuers did relinquish the dignityes they had, purposely to obtaine literature & enioy strictness of life; soe had wee not wanting eminent worthies y* were by y° care of y° admired Edm : Rich of Abendon (whom I ' Ball. Coll. MS. f. 52. STEPHEN OF LEXINTON 77 shall anon mention) educated among & presented to, us ; seuen of w''*' were selected from his schoole at Oxford by Stephen of Lexinton an Oxford man ; vir nobilis genere (as tis said) et scientia et moribus nobilior, y' were with him & by his appointment translated to y° Cistercian Order at Quarrerar in y* Isle of Wyght ; y' soe they might plant y* place with y® maimers & doctrine of y Vniusity of Oxford Even as Walter of Gaunt a monk of Osney had before planted Waltham Abbey of y® Order of S. Augustine with a Colony from y° said place of Osney, for y® same purpose." ^ A long list might be made of the names of the men who Ustened to St. Edmund in the schools at Oxford, and whose hearts and minds were fashioned into some likeness to the master whose voice led them, and whose life was their ensample. Edmund taught, sometimes in School Street, in a small tenement which he hired there ; sometimes in a larger school, belonging to the Dominicans, in St. Edward's parish. There was an old hall, or school, in School Street, which was known for years after wards as " St. Edmund's School " ; and there is sufficient reason to believe that it was the school where he Uved and taught, though Antony k Wood was not able to find documentary proof of this. It was " a place, from y® time of its gift to Osney w"*" was about y' middle of H. 3. or rather before, alto- geather possessed by clerhs as y' series of Osney Rentrolls testifie, and before its gift it was owned by 1 Wood, MS. 78 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON M' Amfridus a phisitian who lining therein in y® raigne of K. John & H. 3. read there as tis probable phisich or Acts. As for St. Edmund his reading therein w"*" must be about M' Amfridus his time I find nothing as yet of it." ^ The east part of the chapel of Brasenose College covers the site of the old medieval building. It was here, we may, with no excess of credulity, believe that St. Edmund lived. Yet whether in this school, which afterwards bore his name, or in St. Edward's School, is only a question which leads to the certain fact that it was here in Oxford that the Saint Uved, and taught the pupils who thronged to listen to him. Here, in Oxford, he lived his beautiful life of prayer, and love, and asceticism. Here he studied ; here he brought his sick pupils to his own room, and nursed them and cared for them. Here, after a day of work, he gave himself just the scant sleep, on a bench, or on the floor, which sufficed him for his rest ; and, waking early, hurried to the church before the world around was astir again. Here, in Oxford — perhaps in School Street; perhaps, later, in St. Edward's parish — our great Saint lived, outwardly the ordinary life of a common man, plodding and toiling, hour after hour; yet having in his heart that perfect charity which made him count all weariness and labour as nothing, if only he could help his fellow-men, and win souls to Christ. 1 Wood, MS. CHAPTER V St. Edmund, the Oxford teacher — Medieval scholasticism — The new Aristotle — St. Edmund, the preacher — His chapel at Oxford — His gift to St. John Baptist's Hospital In considering the beautiful and touching details of the life of Edmund the Saint, we must not lose sight of the laborious and beneficent life of Edmund the scholar, Edmund the great Oxford master and teacher. Turn where we will ; to the manuscript Lives of the Saint ; to the folios of Matthew Paris ; to the chronicles of monasteries, those chronicles which have preserved for us the history of our country, and the knowledge of how our forefathers lived and laboured; or even to more modern his tories which, partly by recording traditions, partly by repeating acknowledged facts, have confirmed for later generations the statements of earUer writers ; everywhere we find the same keen appreciation of the Scholar-Saint. He is always — "the glorious confessor " — " earnest in reading " — " subtle in dis putation " — " the eminent theologian "• — " a remark able preacher " — " an incomparable teacher " — " the admirable St. Edmund " — and " though young in years, he exceUed all his elders in faith, learning, knowledge, and counseL" 8o SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON The years when Edmund was a teacher in Oxford were important in the annals of learning. It was a time when men began to be conscious that some thing more was needed than the studies comprised in the Trivium and Quadrivium. And the time had not yet come when the new learning, with its phUo- sophies and metaphysics, its Greek, and perhaps Hebrew, was to satisfy the desires of ambitious scholars. A course of study which included Grammar, Logic, Rhetoric, Arithmetic, Geometry, Music, and Astronomy, would seem to have been sufficiently wide and varied for the restless cravings of human intellect. But its inadequacy lay more in the imperfect and superficial grasp of those sciences than in the sciences themselves.^ While, for theo logians and doctors, the great questions of the schools, and the subtle differences of medieval scholasticism, were as yet unknown interests. But, in Oxford at least, the way was being prepared for that brilliant period when the University ranked high, if not highest, among the schools of Europe ; the time when Adam de Maribco ^ was reading lectures at Oxford with distinguished success ; and Alexander of Hales,® an Englishman by birth, was the great teacher at the University of Paris. And the high reputation which these men won was followed by the fame of Roger Bacon,* Duns Scotus,^ and William of Occam." Edmund Rich taught in ' Univ. Camb., i. pp. 24-6. ^ c. 1250. ' Died 1245. * 1214-1292. = 1265-1308. « Died 1347. A TEACHER AT OXFORD 8 1 Oxford more than fifty years before those days. His name is not mingled with the differences of the schools, or the clamour of the schoolmen. In his day he stood alone, unrivalled, the master pre eminent, to whom all scholars turned, from whom none wished to differ. His singular success as a teacher is undisputed : and that he was considerably in advance of other teachers of his day is proved by the names of the men who were his pupils. In his time he made England's scholars. And the fame of the University, the reputation of her schools, the celebrity of her theologians, in the years immediately succeeding Edmund's time, are to no smaU extent due to the labours, the energy, the enthusiasm, and the faithful teaching of the master, whose followers crowded the humble tenement in School Street, or filled the larger St. Edward's School. The time when Edmund lived was not, strictly speaking, the period of the teaching which was known as the " new learning" — the " new philosophy" — the "new Aristotle." Edmund's time was an terior to that period ; but his teaching distinctly foreshadowed and led to the " new learning," and to the new schools of thought. " The Aristotle of western Europe, from the sixth to the thirteenth century, was simply Aristotle the logician ; and even as a logician he was but imper fectly known. The whole of the Organon had, in deed, been translated by Boethius, but even of this the greater part was unknown to Europe prior to 82 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON the twelfth century. The Categories and the De Inter pretatione, together with the Isagoge of Porphyry, were in use, but the Prior and Posterior Analytics, the Topica, and the Elenchi Sophistici are never quoted. Such are the important limitations with which it is consequently necessary to regard the study of Aristotle as existing during this lengthened period ; his logical method survived, but in imperfect fashion ; while his mental and moral philosophy remained altogether unknown, their resuscitation forming, as we shall subsequently see, a separate and very important chapter in the history of European thought." ^ Yet it was not simply to resuscitate ; it was, also, to harmonise the new learning with the teaching of the Church ; to christianise the old, and make it new, with a wider and fuller meaning. In that sense only did the great theologians and teachers labour. In this work of resuscitation and renewing, Edmund, the Oxford teacher, must have been a leading spirit. On the authority of Roger Bacon, we know that Edmund was the first who gave lectures on Aristotle in Oxford. Writing in 1292, Roger Bacon says — " Slowly has any portion of the philosophy of Aristotle come into use among the Latins. His Natural PhUosophy, and his Metaphysics, with the Commentaries of Averroes and others, were trans lated in my time, and interdicted at Paris before the year A.D. 1237, because of the eternity of the world ^ Univ, Camb., i. p. 29. A TEACHER AT OXFORD 83 and of time, and because of the book of the Divina tion by Dreams, which is the third book De Somniis et Vigiliis, and because of many passages erroneously translated. Even his Logic was slowly received and lectured on. For St. Edmund, the archbishop of Canterbury, was the first who in my time read the elements at Oxford. And I have seen Master Hugo who first read the book of Posterior [Analytics], and I have seen his writing (verbum). So there were but few, considering the multitude of the Latins, who were of any account in the phUosophy of Aristotle ; nay very few indeed, and scarcely any up to this year of grace 1292."^ This impUes that Edmund had a knowledge of subjects, of languages, and of technical terms, which at that time must have exceeded the ordinary know ledge of the ordinary Oxford teacher. It implies, also, a mental power of grasping new subjects, new phUosophies, and new arguments ; and being able to give what was considered dangerous knowledge, in a perfectly harmless form, to the eager hsteners. It was no slight work. It needed an high courage, and a commanding intellect. It was the preparation for those higher labours of Albertus Magnus and St. Thomas Aquinas, which have shed such lustre on the Church, and on the Dominican Order. And St. Edmund's share in those labours must not, because it was the preparatory work of a preceding labourer, ^ Roger Bacon, p. Iv. (trs. from Compendium Studii Theologiae, MS. in Royal Library). 84 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON ever be forgotten. Again we must remember how continually, in the manuscript Lives, St. Edmund is spoken of as the " eminent theologian," the " incom parable teacher," the " remarkable preacher." That was the universal verdict of men who heard him lecture, who were present at disputations, and who listened to his preaching. It was the highest praise, from those best able to judge; and they gave it unhesitatingly. It was while Edmund was yet a secular master, a regent master in arts, and giving cursory lectures in arithmetic, that his mother appeared to him in a vision, or in a dream, and urged him to devote his thoughts and time more exclusively to higher work. — "At a time when he was stUl giving cursory lectures on arithmetic to some of his fellows, as he slept, his pious mother, who had died a short time before, appeared to him, saying, ' My Son, what read you ? What are those figures which you study so intently ? ' He answered, ' This is what I read.' And he showed her some diagrams such as are ordinarily used in that science. She presently took his right hand, and drew in it three circles, in which she wrote in order these names. Father, Son, Holy Ghost, And having done this, she said : ' My dearest Son, for the future attend to such figures as these, and no others.' Taught by this dream, as by a revelation, he immediately betook himself to the study of theology, in which he made such marvellous progress in a short time, that quickly, after a few HIS FAITH AND ELOQUENCE 85 years, by the advice of many, he ascended the pro fessorial chair." ^ It was thus that Edmund the scholar became Edmund the theologian, the first Oxford doctor of divinity on record, and the great Oxford preacher. Now, it would seem, Edmund's real work in life began. His renown as a teacher was to be surpassed by his distinction as a preacher. In all ages, the work and the influence of the preacher has been distinct from all other -work. The success of a preacher rests on his eloquence, on his enthusiasm, and on his gift for inspiring others. But, above all, it rests on the preacher's faith in what he teaches, his horror of the sins he would denounce, and his faith in the heaven he points to for all those who follow his words. His eloquence, his enthusiasm, his influence, would be as nothing, unless he had first his own steadfast faith in God. Or, rather, without his own strong beUef, his enthusiasm, his influence, and power of leading others, could hardly exist: without his own exceeding great faith there could be no real fruits of his labour. This has been said often; and it is admitted very generally. And it teUs the secret of Edmund's remarkable gifts as a preacher. He had his natural gifts, by " the kind ness he had received of God ; " his gentleness, his ready sympathy, the "fine and joyous grace" of his countenance, his generous smile, and gracious tones. And he had, by a yet greater kindness of God, his ^ Epist. Univ, Oxoniae. 86 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON purity of heart, which made him abhor sin, and which led him to the highest love. He had his great faith, which made " all things possible." He had, by God's special grace, a clear insight into the supernatural world around him ; and a great strength of .love and faith to enable him to forsake all in this world, and in this life, and to live only in the super- natmral life. The words of the Gospel, and the promises of his Lord, must have been always with him. — " And going, preach, saying : The kingdom of heaven is at hand. Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out devils : gratis you have received, gratis give. Do not possess gold, nor silver, nor money in your purse, nor scrip for your journey, nor two coats, nor shoes, nor a staff, for the workman is worthy of his meat." ^ — " Amen I say to you, whatsoever you shall bind upon earth, shall be bound also in heaven: and whatsoever you shaU loose upon earth, shall be loosed also in heaven." ^ — ¦ " Amen, amen I say to you, he that believeth in me, the works that I do he shall do also ; and greater than these shall he do ; because I go to the Father."^ And St. Edmund, like many others of God's saints, had that faith. So he went forth to preach, believing, and earnest to make others believe. He cast away all thought of self. He had no confidence in his own power. He was forgetful of all that touched himself ; forget ful of all the gifts which he undoubtedly had, and > St. Matt, X. 7-IO. 2 ji^j, xviii. i8. * St, John xiv. 12. THE OXFORD PREACHER 87 which men mostly prize ; ready to cast them all aside, and eager only to help souls, and to do the work which was set for him to do. We seem to see him very distinctly as he went from place to place, preaching wheresoever he went. Sometimes he preached in the towns, where large numbers of the people gathered round him ; sometimes in the villages and hamlets. We see him standing by the cross at Hereford ; or outside the church at Worcester'; or at Gloucester ; or in All Saints' churchyard, at Oxford ; while the concourse of eager listeners thronged near to him. Some came from idle curiosity ; some only to deride ; but most were drawn to him by the marvellous power of his plead ing tones, and were constrained to listen by the force of his words, and by his beautiful earnestness. Along our country roads he toiled, and by the village crosses he stood, and appealed to the people. May we not sometimes remember him now, as we tread the same ground ? He was often seen on the roads near Oxford ; and in the country, round about the city, his face was known. And many a broken vUlage cross — in ruin now, not from the ruthless wear of time, but shattered by the reckless hand of the Protestant reformer — marks the place where, in England's CathoUc days, by command of the Holy Father, the English Saint stood, to tell the people of life and of death. In busy towns, and in crowded cities, in our Oxfordshire villages, and on the Berkshire downs, and by the wooded hUls and 88 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON golden valleys of Gloucestershire, the Cross was preached by our great Scholar-Saint ; and history tells us with what singular success. Edmund was a celebrated preacher while he was yet teaching in Oxford. That was some years before he was deputed by the Pope to preach the crusade. He left Oxford when he was elected treasurer at Salisbury; and the wonderful account of his mis sionary life, and the description of the beautiful miracles which were wrought when he was preach ing the crusade, belong more strictly to the history of his life at Salisbury. But we must not follow Edmund away from Oxford without first mentioning what may be re garded as his public charity in the city which had become his second home. " Edmund of Abingdon " he always called himself; but we, looking back upon his life, may surely claim him as " Edmund of Oxford ; " while the Church knows him as "Edmund the Archbishop ; " and in France he is rightly called " St. Edmund of Pontigny." Undoubtedly St. Edmund earned some money by his teaching at Oxford, in spite of his generosity to his pupils ; and he had, besides, some property in Abingdon, which had been left to him by his father. He may have been comparatively rich. We have been told how, when he was at Oxford, he would hear Mass every morning before he lectured. " And that he might do this more devoutly, he built a chapel in the parish in which he then lived, in HIS CHAPEL AT OXFORD 89 honour of the Blessed Virgin, whom he always loved with a certain special privUege of love." ^ It is not known where this chapel stood. No one has ever attempted to speak with any certainty about its site ; nor is it known what became of the chapel, in later years. It has been suggested, but apparently without sufficient reason, that it was a chapel buUt on the north side of St. Mary's Church, or one adjoining St. Peters-in-the-East, as either of these churches would have been near to where the Saint lived, supposing that he lived in School Street. But these are conjectures which seem to have simply grown out of the fact that in the old Catholic days those chm-ches had each their special " Lady'' chapel, and the name may have lingered on into Protestant times, and thus become associated with the chapel dedicated to Our Lady which our Saint had erected. The chapel St. Edmund buUt must have been a well- known building ; and it probably was in some way beautiful. It was while Edmund was at Oxford, perhaps just before he left, that he gave some property at Abing don to the Hospital of St. John, outside the East Gate. In Antony k Wood's manuscript we find, " That while he was a Student in Oxford gaue to y° Hospitall of S. Johns without y" East gate there, a tenement in West street in Abendon sometimes be longing to Raynold le Riche." ^ A short notice of the hospital to which St. 1 Epist. Univ. Oxoniae. ° Wood, MS. 90 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON Edmund gave his property may be not entirely out of place here. Tanner's account of it is, — "The hospital of St. John Baptist without the east gate, consisting of a master and several brothers and sisters, was in being in the reign of king John, who was a benefactor to it. King Henry 3 new founded, or at least new built it, a.d. 1233, laying the first stone himself. King Henry 6 gave the master and brethren leave to give up and convey this house and all the estates belonging to it, to William Wainflet, bishop of Winchester about a.d. 1456, who on or near the site of it laid the founda tion of his magnificent college with the haU adjoin ing, to the honor of St. Mary Magdalene." ^ According to Dugdale, Henry III. founded the hospital in 1233 ; but this is an evident mistake, as a grant to the house in 1 230, by the king, speaks of the hospital as then standing. Antony k Wood, who searched well for the earliest mention of this hospital, wrote — "Without y" East gate where Magdalen College now standeth, was somties situated y® Hospitall of S* John Baptist concerning y* foundation of w"*", hear w* Mat : Paris sayes A" Dhi 1233 spiritu sancto tactus &c: in y° year of o' Lord 1233 Henry (y' 3*) King of Engl, being touched with y^ holy Ghost & moved with a regard of piety ordained a certaine famous Hospitall at Oxon not farr from y® bridge y' therein infife people & strangers might receiue remedy ' Notit. Monast., xxiii. 25. THE HOSPITAL OF ST. JOHN 9 1 of their health & necessity : thus he ; Florilegus also writeth y" sae, & Ranulf: Higden Cestren: add- eth y* y* said King laid y° first stone thereof, w* Hen : Knighton & Jo : Anglicus or y° Authour of y° Golden History as also Jo : Rossus & another Ano- minus^ with our later Historians testifieth as much ; fro w"** pductions wee may conclud with y" said authors y* it was founded by Hen : 3. 1233, though contrary to them all I haue scene seuerall scripts y* denotes it to be founded long before, y* is to say in y° instrument of dotation of Vniuersity Coll : by wUl: Archdeacon of Durha a.d. 12 19. w"*" is 14 years before y" Coinon time aboue specified, is men tion made of tria messuagia (in oxon) iacent- con- iunctim in peroch s**° Mildridae usq chene Lane inter tenementu Abbatissae de stodley ex parte orient et tenementu Hospitalis magistri et consoi : Hospitalis s*' Johis ex parte Occident : &c. by w""" it appeareth that there was then a tenement belonging to S* John's Hospitall." ^ Antony k Wood also quotes an authority to show that it was an endowed hospital in the time of King John. And he gives an account of King Henry's gift " magistro fratibus et sororibus " of " his mill in Hedindon called Kings melne with y° lands & meadows & court thereto belonging as also y° Jews garden or buriall place beforementioned to build their Hospitall theron, & as often as he came to oxon they were to receiue of his free gift Centii tales 1 Sic ^ Wood, MS. 92 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON libationes as tis there exprest for a lOO poore per sons, he gaue them alsoe as much fuell out of shot- touer wood y' one horse could twice every day for euer well support, as alsoe a certaine peice of ground therein (w""" I suppose is now magd : Coppice) to them & their successors to make use in building or repairing their Hospitall moreouer by his charter dated at Northampton 8 Jun : in y^ 50 yeare of his raigne gaue them y* running of 1 5 o hoggs (y* is to say) 50 in his forest of wycclewode or whichwood, 50 in Bernwode forest & y" other 50 in shottouer allwaies their to be feding & free fro pannage." ^ The name of our Saint comes in the list of bene factors to the hospital. — " m' Edmundus of Abendon gaue them his house w"*" was before Reginald le Diues or le Rich in west street in Abendo w"*^ Edmund I take to be y^ sae y' was after Archb : of canterbury & by y* pope canonized a saint, and y° son of le Rich of Abendon." ^ 1 Wood, MS. 2 Ibid. CHAPTER VI The Saint's great faithfulness — His individuality — Other anec dotes of his life at Oxford — Letter from the monks of Abingdon — Letter from the University of Oxford St. Edmund's life at Oxford ended when he was elected treasurer at Salisbury. Very imperfectly have we traced, as it were, a dim and broken out- Une of what his Oxford Ufe was in its visible works. We would fain trace that outline again, with a firmer touch ; and make stronger, against the gray background of past centuries, the striking personality of our Oxford Saint. We have seen him, learning patiently, yet with the ardour and enthusiasm of his earnest nature. The young boy, away from home for the first time, standing before the grammar master ; timid from his innate humility, and awed by the knowledge of the difficult and untrodden paths of learning, which, like a vista opening before him, attracted his early ambition, and chained his love and resolution. Many are the stories which might be added to the more important ones already related. The Lanercost chronicler would have us remember that Edmund, when a master at Oxford, was "a man of special purity, abstinence, and 94 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON wakefulness."^ And yet withal, when a boy.he was like to other boys, and had, now and again, his care for games, and his impatience for recreation. But such incidents show also his faithfulness to all holy dictates, a faithfulness which grew with his years, and was one of his most distinctive gifts. The voice of his Lord and Master never spoke to him, in warning, in counsel, in divine prompting, without receiving a willing, joyous, faithful response. Quaint, perhaps, to our ears, yet wonderfully reverent in its beautiful simplicity, is the story of how, when a boy, in St. Mary's Church at Oxford, " he paid far more attention, during Mass, to the voices of the singers than to the prayers, and heeded more the music than the mystery: thus, after the Elevation, he hastened with several others to join in play. When leaving, by the north door of the Lady Chapel, an Hand, moved by the Holy Ghost, struck him on the cheek, and a Voice of heavenly warning was heard, telling him, ' Go back to the service begun : even now Mass commences.' The sagacious youth perceived that it was true ; he conceived a greater love for the quickening Sacri fice, and resolved henceforth to wait till Mass was over.'" Nor, on another occasion, was there less of faith fulness in St. Edmund's fearless answer to his frightened companion on the road to Abingdon. As they walked together, they " saw a field as if it ' Chron. de Lan,, p. 36. * Ibid., p. 38. AT NORTHAMPTON 95 were entirely covered with black birds, so that both were astonished at the multitude of birds. His companion was trembling, and said, ' I am beyond measure afraid.' St. Edmund answered him, ' Sign yourself with the sign of the holy Cross. Leave the road, and stand aside ; and be not afraid, for we shall soon see what is to follow.' After wards they saw among the birds some dark body, like a sack, having neither the appearance of a man, nor of a beast. The birds carried it away in the air, and disappeared. After this, the Saint said to his companion, ' Wouldest thou know what this means ? ' And he said, ' Yes.' The Saint replied, ' The birds which thou hast seen are demons ; and yon body, that they carry through the air, is the soul of a man at Chalgrove who has just died.' When they came to that very village they found that some man had died, at the hour the Saint had foretold." ^ There are, it would seem that there always wUl be, the yet untold stories of Edmund's life at Oxford. It was not his intellectual pre-eminence, but his strength of faith, and his ever ready faithfulness, that distinguished him, and gave him a personahty above his fellows. There is the story of how, on one Good Friday, he had for good and necessary reasons, to journey from Oxford to North ampton, and " when he had arrived at the above- mentioned fortress, then, in spite of the great 1 Ball, Coll. MS., f . 50. 96 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON fatigue, he went barefoot to all the numerous churches of that fortified place, and received in every one of them the discipline. Thus, because of the Son of God, the servant of God wished to be scourged, because he knew that at that time Christ had received on His Body that painful scourging which procured peace for us."^ Nor would we omit the characteristic story of how Stephen, Archbishop of Canterbury, and Walter, Archbishop of York, and other great men, strove to raise Edmund to higher honours, and to secure for him a better income ; and how their offers were received. " One example must serve instead of many. AVhen the Lord Archbishop had sent his messengers to him, offering him the incumbency of a church, which used to bring in for the rector the annual sum of about two hundred marks. Master Edmund replied, after a short deliberation ; and he said to the messenger who had arrived, ' Friend, knowest thou how that church, which thy lord on his own accord is to confer on me, is furnished with chancel, vestments, books, and all the things which belong by right to the rector ? ' The reply was, ' Surely things are in a very poor state.' And this being certified, he replied to the messenger, ' Thank thou thy lord. I receive and accept the benefice, lest some Romans, or other men like to them, who seek nothing of the sheep of Christ, but the milk and the wool, stretch out their eager hands for it.' 1 Addit. MS., f. 94. LETTER FROM READING 97 Having appointed for the same church a faithftil and diUgent vicar, he spent all the revenues on enlarging, roofing, and decorating the chancel ; and in buying the necessary church ornaments. He continued in this office during several years ; untU all the wants of that church had been fully supplied. But, after wards, lest he should be obliged to give account of souls, or be implicated in the affairs of the court, and so hindered in his scholastic work, he resigned aU." ' The Letter from the Abbot and Convent of Read ing, to the Pope, relates that whUe Edmund was a regent in the schools of theology at Oxford, he was invited to their monastery in vacation time ; and he was there with the abbot and monks on the Sunday after Christmas. And then he did in no way what ever relax his customary strictness, " even at that time when people are usually more indulgent to themselves ; continuing his fasts, his laborious night watches, his frequent sacred meditations, his perse vering prayers, his shedding of tears, his almost innumerable genuflexions, his unwearied study of sacred lore, his wearing an hairshirt (which, however, he hid as well as he could). Hence it happened that God touched the hearts of many of our brethren, because of the so great edification he gave them by the mature wisdom of his conversation, and his salutary example ; and that seeing in him such and so great marks of sanctity, they deemed • Cot. MS., fl i37''-i38. G 98 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON themselves lukewarm and idle in comparison with him who did not wear the religious habit, whUe they were held religious." ^ These stories reveal to us something of what St. Edmund's hidden life was. Neither reading, nor teaching, nor caring for the sick, nor even preaching could make him turn from the " one thing needful," the following closely and faithfully in his Master's steps. And it was so in his life of penance and mortifications. To refuse himself sleep, to deny his appetite, to punish his body, to feel fatigue and weariness, meant a greater nearness to the God who had suffered; and whose kingdom is to be gained " through much tribulation." Edmund, indeed, affiicted his body, shortened his time for sleep, denied himself the almost necessary food, and was never weary in his work; for he sought only to follow One whose precept was "If any man wUl come after me, let him deny himself." ^ After Edmund's death, the monks of Abingdon, who had known him weU, and who could most truthfuUy speak about him, wrote the following letter to the Pope, begging for his canonisation. — "The Abbot and Convent of Abingdon, To OUR Most Holt Father. "The Orient Sun of Justice, Christ Jesus, has deigned to illuminate, by ministers of his light, all the ends of the world : to Him be praise, who has 1 Martine, ill. c. 1910. ^ St. Matt. xvi. 24. LETTER FROM ABINGDON 99 given us a lamp of salvation shining above the stars, Edmund, Archbishop, to whom the supreme Arbiter of all things is Himself faithful witness in heaven, since He so sublimely honours him on earth, renew ing by his merits, both at his tomb and elsewhere, the miracles of olden time. Hence our mouth is filled with gladness, and our tongue with joy ; and we are become joyful, seeing that in our day the Lord hath done great things for His servants. Since, therefore, this is a day of good tidings, lest we be charged with a crime for declaring nothing of so many goods; we, who have been his neigh bours and his messengers, have taken care to in timate to Your Holiness by our words, such as they are, the happy, prosperous progress, and the glorious end, of this praiseworthy man. Accordingly, he was born at Abingdon, of most Christian parents, of ex cellent character, and full of good works and alms. His mother lived so holUy that she wore a coat of iron maU next her skin to her Ufe's end. With the sweetness of mUk she impressed on her sweet child the Name, sweeter than milk, of Christ ; infused His love; inspired His fears; and, as he grew and advanced, she taught him by her example. Now to what an abundant harvest these maternal or, rather, divine seeds grew up in him, the innumerable works of piety, at which throughout his Ufe he strenuously laboured, manifestly declare. From his boyhood he always used an hairshirt; and when he applied himself to hterature, even so early, he compelled his lOO SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON flesh to serve the spirit, subduing it with watching, fasts, and prayers, always striving after that life in heaven, which now he has just found. In imitation of Blessed John the Evangelist, he preserved per petual virginity in his body: this fact, those who heard his confessions, and those who from famUiar intercourse knew him from his boyish days, con fidently assert. Growing up, therefore, and advanc ing in wisdom and age, being now sufficiently imbued with liberal studies, he betook himself to the study of sacred scripture, in which, at length, he advanced so far that we may say, under favour of aU the Saints, he was second to no doctor of the English Church. And as, inwardly, the light of divine wisdom increased and multiplied in him; so, out wardly, he shone on all sides with the splendour of most divine works. For he was a remarkable preacher, an incomparable teacher, having in his preaching and teaching a word of fire. He Ulumi- nated the minds of his hearers with the knowledge of the truth, and inflamed their affection with the love of good ; so that, by the effect of his words on his hearers, it became clearer than dayUght that He spoke through him and in him, of whom it is written, ' Our God is a consuming fire.' So much for his progress. As for his end, it was made glorious, as was said above, by Him whose gift it was that he had served Him well and worthUy. He who long ago had elevated his soul to celestial desires. Him self now caUed it up to the long-desired joys. We, LETTER FROM THE UNIVERSITY lOI therefore, as loving sons, rejoicing through our tears at the great glory of him who was once our neigh bour, and is now our father, prostrate most devoutly and humbly at the feet of Your Holiness, entreat Your Holy Paternity not to permit so great and shining a candle to lie hid under a bushel ; but to deign to place it on a candlestick, and to inscribe him in the Catalogue of the Saints, that we may be able to pray to him, and say, ' 0 Edmund, great Prelate ; to thee, to live was Christ ; to die, ever lasting gain, for after death thou livest the true life ; thou art glorious with divine signs ; thou healest the sick of infirmity ; this we ask, in pious prayer, that thou our intercessor be.' " ^ And, at the same time, the University of Oxford wrote also to the Holy Father, asking that the Oxford scholar and teacher might be inscribed in the Catalogue of the Saints. — "To OUR Most Clement Father and Lord, Innocent, by the Grace of God, Supreme Pontiff. "We, the lowly flock of His Holiness, all the Masters and Scholars dwelling at Oxford, with the whole company of Friars, Preachers and Minors, and of the other reUgious, who live there, offer the devout kiss of the feet, and the humble service of obedience. " That which we know, we speak ; and that which we have seen, we declare unto You ; concerning the ' Scotichron, v. p. 1417. I02 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON conversation of our venerable Father Edmund of fair memory, lately Archbishop of Canterbury, who for no short space of time was in our University, both student and master. "Accordingly, our said father was born of pious parents, and from his boyhood was so religiously brought up, that, by the teaching of his most christian mother (whose Ufe and reputation pro claim her to have been afterwards the flower of widowhood) he learnt, while he was yet a child, to fast and pray; and when he became a young man, and was pursuing liberal studies, he walked of his own accord in the way in which he had been previously led. For even then he began to offer to God voluntary sacrifice, freely frequent ing the churches, shunning the vain and frivolous amusements in which youth abounds, diligently working to acquire knowledge, not merely flying from the delights of the flesh, but carrying cease lessly in his body the mortification of the Cross of Christ; with the whole intensity of his mind he sought after the Author of Ufe. He seemed already to understand the proverb, though he had not yet read it, A young man according to his way, even when he is old he will not depart from it : and this was really fulfilled in him. For he so perfectly in his youth acquired the habit of fasting and watching, and the other painful works of penance, that after wards in his maturer years, as he often himself affirmed, they became not merely easy to him, but LETTER PROM THE UNIVERSITY 103 deUghtful. However, since bodily exercise is profit able to little, but GodUness is profitable to all things, how he, as he advanced in age, advanced in grace, may Your Holiness deign patiently to listen. " When, then, he became master in arts, though he was not yet promoted to sacred Orders, nor was imder any obligation by reason of having obtained an ecclesiastical benefice, led merely by the instinct of God, and the love of piety, though it was more than was then usual with lecturers, it was his custom every day before he lectured to hear Mass. And that he might do this more devoutly, he buUt a chapel in the parish in which he then lived, in honour of the Blessed Virgin, whom he always loved with a certain special privilege of love. Now when nearly six years were passed, during which he taught in arts, when it pleased. Him who separated him from his mother's womb to reveal His Son in him and by him, and to make him a vessel of election, at a time when he was stUl giving cursory lectures on arithmetic to some of his fellows, as he slept, his pious mother, who had died a short time before, appeared to him, saying, ' My Son, what read you ? What are those figures which you study so intently ? ' He answered, ' This is what I read.' And he showed her some diagrams, such as are ordinarUy used in that science. She presently took his right hand, and drew in it three circles, in which she wrote in order these three Names, Father, Son, Holy Ghost. And having done this, she I04 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON said, ' My dearest Son, for the future attend to such figures as these, and no others.' Taught by this dream, as by a revelation, he immediately betook himself to the study of theology, in which he made such marvellous progress in a short time, that quickly, after a few years, by the advice of many, he ascended the professorial chair. He had, indeed, beforehand devoted himself to sacred literature with such industry and with such eagerness to learn, that he used to spend his nights almost without sleep. And the years seemed to him but a few days, for the greatness of the love with which he sighed for the embraces of the beautiful Rachel. Nor was he defrauded of that which he craved. For, accord ing to his own estimation, he toiled but little in his work, and quickly he gathered his fruits. For, receiving with the open mouth of his heart the seeds of the divine word, as a land watered by dew from heaven, he produced in himself not only crops of holy meditations and affections, but also the rich fruits of good works ; and besides, by his lectures and disputations, and by his preaching, he was a strenuous and glorious sower of that same divine word ; and, to the edification of others, he poured forth the words of divine wisdom like showers. For he was earnest in reading, subtle in disputation, most fervent in preaching; and so he became dear to the clergy, acceptable to laymen, and respected even by princes. And when he sat among them, he was yet the consoler of mourners ; for from LETTER FROM THE UNIVERSITY I05 his infancy compassion had grown with him, which accumulated on itself the miseries of others, and never suffered him not to share in any affliction that he had once seen. Now when such flowers of virtue as these bloomed in the blessed man with most winning loveliness, the fragrance of his char acter, and also of his holiness, began to diffuse itself aU around. And since it was fitting that we should have such an high priest, holy, innocent, undefiled, and separated from sinners, the see of Canterbury becoming afterwards vacant, by the inspiration of divine grace he was elected arch bishop. Yet when he was made pastor, and glorious leader of the people of God, he did not discard his former humiUty, but by continual abstinence, by the roughness of his clothing, and by much watching, he compeUed the flesh to serve the spirit, sensuaUty to serve reason. In truth, there are some among us, who, while he Uved, cleaved to his side for a long time ; namely. Brother Robert Bacon, professor of theology at Oxford, and Brother Richard of Dunstable, Prior of the Friar Preachers in the same place. By their report, besides many things which we have already mentioned, we have also learnt that the holy man, from the time that he taught in arts, seldom or never entered a bed, but that, clothed and belted, lying in front of his bed, he refreshed his body with scanty sleep, and spent the rest of the night in meditation and prayer. For his prayer was con- I06 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON tinual, his tears flowed in streams, his zeal for souls was burning; prosperity did not make him remiss; adversity did not make him anxious. In brief, he exhibited himself in all things as the minister of God, as a workman in his habits approved, in his actions that needeth not to be ashamed, in his discourse rightly handling the word of God. For he was in his doctrine, as a shining sun; in his works, as fragrant incense ; fulfilling that of the Apostle, ' So speak ye, and so do.' In fine, a noble life met a noble end. For m order that the just that is dead, might condemn the wicked that are living, and that He Himself might appear glorious in His saints, God, the author and re- warder of sanctity, now confirms by evident and proved miracles those whom He had previously instructed by the merits, and trained by examples. Not to speak of the works of holiness, and the signs of power, which made him illustrious when he was still in the flesh, it is now clearly evident from the cure of many different persons of their diseases, and their restoration to primitive health, what kind of Ufe he always led in the land of his most holy body. By which said miracles, as it were by the reverence for the new light, for the conversion of infidels, the repression of enemies, and the com fort of the elect, God has illuminated the whole Church, which in our times seemed quite involved in the darkness of calamity and sin. Since, there fore the proofs of his sanctity, and the testimonies to LETTER FROM THE UNIVERSITY 107 his extraordinary life, are so numerous, we, prostrate at the feet of Your Holiness, humbly beseech You to deign to have him inscribed in the Catalogue of Saints, whom God has made glorious in heaven, and wonderful on earth; to the end that the Lord, invoked in memory of him by the mouths of many, may come to the succour of the Church in its many afflictions ; and that the Christian people may, by his merits and examples, advance in perfection. " ^ This Letter from the University of Oxford does not say when Edmund was ordained ; and not one of the manuscript Lives gives any account of his ordination. We only know that it must have been after he began to read theology, and before the time when the Lives speak of his preaching in the neigh bourhood of Oxford. The Veriloquium ac Brevilo- quium of Robert Bacon, in the Cotton manuscript, mentions only that St. Edmund became a lecturer in theology, and that he received all the sacred Orders. ^ ' Marline, iii. c. 1839. ^ Cot. MS,, f. 137. CHAPTER VII Old English cathedrals, and English saints — St. Headda — St. Frideswide — St. Cuthbert — St. Hugh — St. Aldhelm— St. Osmund — The " Sarum Use " — Bishop Richard Poor — The new cathedral at Salisbury — St. Edmund at Salisbury — His duties as treasurer — The " ornamenta " — St. Edmund deputed by the Pope to preach the crusade — Miracles — Importance of the crusade ^ The old EngUsh cathedrals were planned by loving CathoUc hearts ; they were buUt by faithful Catho Uc hands; and they were, from earhest days, the final resting-places for the saints who had cared for the worship of God in its purity and grandeur, and who had valued, in all that they did, the special blessings sent from Rome and the sanction of the Holy Father. And it is difficult to think of those stUl enduring monuments of the old faith of our land, without remembering at the same time the saints through whose zeal and piety they were reared, and also the saints whose relics Ue hidden near to the sites of the ancient altars of God. We think of Winchester, and remember St. Headda, whose name stiU lives as saint and bishop. ^ Very much in the first part of this chapter may fairly be called irrelevant, and entirely out of place. Tet I plead for it all, believ ing that the by-paths, to which I have been attracted while trying to realise the wider background of our Saint's life, will be as full of interest to many others as they have been to myself. io8 ENGLISH SAINTS IO9 He is one of the saints whose lives are told in Saints of Wessex and Wiltshire. There we read that the latter days of St. Headda's life were " gladdened by the good and glorious reign of one of the best of our Saxon kings, Ina, glorious in war as the con queror of Cornwall, greater still in peace by his grand body of Christian laws, of which many still linger in our statute-books. In the preface to his code he expressly mentions St. Headda among those by whose advice, and with whose assistance, he had drawn it up. A fitting end to such a life was that, like Ceadwalla, King Ina gave up his crown, and went to Uve with his wife, unknown and unhonoured, amidst the crowds of English pUgrims to the tombs of the Apostles. But, many years before this, St. Headda had gone to his reward, on July 7, 705, and his reUcs had been laid in the Cathedral of Winchester. His name appears on the roll of saints in the Roman Martyrology, and his feast was kept in the SaUsbury diocese on the day of his death. Vener able Bede, in weighed words, speaks to his goodness and justice, and says his life as a Bishop, and his teach ing, found their source rather in his deep-seated love of virtue than in book-learning. William of Malmes bury appeals to his letters, which he had read, as proof of his scholarship. His name can stUl be read under an empty niche at the eastern side of the magnifi cent reredos, among the names of the great sovereigns, benefactors, and saints of Winchester." ^ ' Saints of Wessex, pp. 10, ri. no SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON And we remember St. Swithin, and aU his piety and learning, and the good works he did for Win chester. For nearly five hundred years his relics lay in the splendid shrine, behind the High Altar, till by command of Thomas Crumwell, the shrine was demolished, and the High Altar also, for the sake of the silver and gold and jewels. And the venerated relics of the saint, who had been, who is still, the glory of Winchester, were scattered to the winds. We think of Oxford, and the holy virgin, St. Frideswide, whose shrine stood for centuries in the cathedral. But the day came when the shrine was destroyed. "In 1539 lust of gold, under cover of hatred of superstition, stripped of its treasures the shrine of St. Frideswide, the centre and the reason of so many centuries of generous gifts. . . . Hie requiescit religio cum superstitione — ' Here lies religion with superstition,' was the epitaph which some Elizabethan divine wrote over the bones of the virgin Saint, which had been dragged from their hiding-place and mingled with the remains of an apostate nun, called by courtesy, the wife of Peter Martyr, himself an apostate Canon Regular, whom Cranmer had made Canon of Christ Church, and Protector Somerset a Professor of Theology." ^ Durham claims some thought, for there used to rest the relics of Venerable Bede ; and there the beautiful shrine of St. Cuthbert, our northern saint, ^ Bygone Oxford, p. 8. ENGLISH SAINTS III used to stand — St. Cuthbert, at whose prayer to the Lord, the violence of waves and wind ceased ; who, whUe tending his sheep at night, saw the soul of Bishop Aidan carried by angels to heaven ; who was himself healed by an angel, and when hungry was fed with food sent miraculously by God.^ Time was when St. Cuthbert's "sacred Sheine was exalted with most curious workmanshipp of fine and costly marble, all limned and guilted with gold, hauinge foure seates or places conuenient under the shrine for the pUgrims or laymen sittinge on theire knees to leane and rest on, in time of theire devout offeringes and fervent prayers to God and holy Saint Cuthbert for his miraculous releife and succour, which beinge never wantinge, made the Shrine to bee so richly invested, that it was estimated to bee one of the most sumptuous monuments in all England ; so great were the offerings and jeweles that were bestowed uppon it, and no lesse the nuracles that were done by it even in theise latter days, as is more patent in the History of the Church at large." ^ St. Cuthbert, strong in love, and strong in CathoUc faith, when dying, begged his brethren, in words worthy of a saint, to Uve ever by that love and faith. — " Keep ever among yourselves peace and holy charity; and when necessity shall de mand of you that you take counsel concerning your state, see that ye be united in your councils. ^ See Vita S. Cuthberti. ¦ ^ Rites of Durham,, p. 3. 112 SAmT EDMUND OF ABINGDON And let there be mutual concord between you and other servants of Christ; and do not despise the servants of faith, who come to you for hospitality; but see that ye receive, keep, and dismiss such, with familiarity and kindness, thinking yourselves no whit better than others who share the same faith and life. But have ye no communion with those who stray away from the unity of the Catholic peace, or celebrate Easter at a wrong time, or live perversely. . . . Strive most dUigently to learn and observe the Catholic statutes of the fathers." ^ Nor must the cathedral at Hereford be forgotten, where the relics of St. Thomas were placed, " in a marble tomb by the east wall of the north cross-isle in the same Cathedral." ^ Nor Chichester, where St. Richard erected an altar to St. Edmund, and, when he was dying, asked that he might be buried near to it.^ Nor Lincoln, where St. Hugh was laid to rest. St. Hugh died at London ; and the sorrowing people had his body conveyed, with great state, to Lincoln, that he might be buried in his own cathedral. As the solemn procession drew near to the town " two kings, John of England, and WiUiam of Scotland, (the latter, who had dearly loved the saint, bathed in tears,) three archbishops, fourteen bishops, above a hundred abbots, and a great number of earls and barons came out to meet the corpse, and the two ' Vita S, Cuthberti, ii. p. 124. ' Lives of Saints, Oct. 2. ' Vita St. Richardi. SAINT ALDHELM I I 3 kings put their shoulders under the bier as it was carried into the church." ^ As our thoughts turn to Salisbury we remember, as it were, a company of holy men, whose saintly Uves are linked together into one perfect history, which again mingles itself with the early history of the cathedral. And we cannot begin to think about St. Edmund's busy life at Salisbury, without first speaking, however passingly, of the saints who had made that church great and glorious before the day when our Oxford Saint was chosen to be its treasurer. Among them St. Aldhelm is prominent. He was Bishop of Sherborne, when Sherborne, not Salisbury, was the cathedral church. Aldhelm is known as saint, abbot, bishop, scholar, musician, and writer of books. He was Abbot of Malmes bury; and, later, when the large diocese of Win chester was divided, and a new see created, he was consecrated Bishop of Sherborne.^ " His first care was to buUd up a church at Sherborne. Then he endeavoured to Uft from his shoulders the charge of Malmesbury Abbey with its branch monasteries, but the monks would not consent to elect another abbot while he was alive. St. Aldhelm took care, however, to ensure for them in after times the all- important right of freedom of election. " Though Dorsetshire, Somersetshire, and Devon shire, with part of Wiltshire and Cornwall, formed ' Lives of Saints, Nov. 7. ^ A.-S. Chron., p. 38. H 114 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON his diocese, still he travelled all about preaching from place to place, leaning his weary frame on an ashen stick, preaching to the Saxons and the Britons, to Pagans and Christians of both nations. Nor even at his age, and with his increased fatigues and responsibUities, did he give up the fasts and penances of his monastic life. In this wearisome apostolate, when only four years a Bishop, he came to Doulting, a village in Somersetshire, now famous for its quarries, not far from Shepton Mallet, and where a spring still bears his name. Then feeling his last hour at hand, he begged to be carried into the little church of wood, and with his head reposing on a stone, he died before God's holy altar on May 25, 709."^ In 1075 the see was removed to Old Salisbury, or Sarum ; and there, on the hill, the foundations of a new cathedral were sunk, by Herman, who was then bishop. In 1078 Osmund was consecrated Bishop of Sarum, and he at once set his mind to continue the work begun by Bishop Herman. St. Osmund's name is so well known to us all that there is no need to speak of him, but only of his work at Salisbury. He built the cathedral, a difficult and expensive work, for the materials had to be conveyed up to the heights ; but St. Osmund pro bably gave much of his own private fortune for this purpose. In 1093 the building was consecrated, in the presence of seven bishops. Then St. Osmund ' Saints of Wessex, p. 25. THE "SARUM USE II 5 began to compile a ritual, which should be accept able both to the Anglo-Saxons and the Normans in his diocese. A variety of different ritual uses had graduaUy crept into the Office books, and into the Mass books, and these differences had caused dis sension and discord in the monasteries and churches. St. Osmund, with his great love for peace, and his earnest longing to see the service of God reverently and faithfully carried out, bent his thoughts to the great work of compiUng a new ritual. He diligently studied and compared the various rites, and noted all that was important in each ; and he succeeded in putting together a ritual — chiefly based on the old Roman Office books — which was adopted by nearly every church in England, Ireland, and Wales; and it was known for four hundred and fifty years as the " Sarum Use." ^ Nor did his zeal cease when that great work was completed. He gave to the newly buUt cathedral many valuable presents, the list of which includes ten missals richly illuminated and richly bound; a massive Chalice of gold; seven others of sUver-gUt ; two vessels for the Chrism and Holy Oils ; and many vestments, and rich hangings. 1 When England, under Elizabeth, became a Protestant country, the Sacrifice of the Mass, and the Divine Office, were suppressed ; and the "Sarum Use" — as such — ceased to exist. Nearly all the Missals and Office books shared the sad fate of hundreds of other precious manuscripts ; but some one or two may still be found among the treasured volumes in our old libraries ; treasured for their antiquity only. In the Balliol College Library is a Missale ad usum Ecclesiae Sarum, a folio volume, printed in London, in 1512, by Richard Pynson. This is a rare book, and is in very good pre servation, the red of the rubrics being remarkably bright. II 6 SAINT EDMUND OP ABINGDON St. Osmund, we are told, " wrote the life of St. Aldhelm, and disdained not, when he was a bishop, to copy and bind books with his own hands." ^ St. Osmund died in 1099, and he was buried on the south side of the choir, in his new cathedral at Old Sarum. In 1226 his body was transferred to the new cathedral ; and there, later, a magnificent shrine of silver, the gift of the bishop, clergy, and laity of the diocese, was erected, and in 1457 the body of the saint was placed in it. On that occa sion the Archbishop of Canterbury was present, and sang the Mass. There the relics lay, revered and loved by all, till the cruel days of reformation, when the finely wrought shrine was deemed too good for God's saint. It must be remembered that St. Osmund's cathe dral was built on the hill, near to the fortifications of Old Sarum. In the time of Richard I. a sugges tion was made by Herbert Poor, who was then Bishop of Sarum, that it would be weU to remove the church to the beautiful and fertile plains below. The Archbishop of Canterbury obtained the king's sanction ; but the plan failed at first, chiefly through want of funds.^ Bishop Herbert Poor was the first who thought of removing the church; the monks could not make their religious processions, because of the insults from the garrison ; nor, for the same reason, could faithful people frequent the church in safety. When Herbert Poor died, his brother ' Lives of Saints, Dec. 4. '¦' Old and New Sarvm, p. 37. BISHOP RICHARD POOR II7 Richard was translated from Chichester, and made Bishop of Sarum, in 1217. Bishop Richard Poor procured the Pope's sanction for the removal of the church; and on the 28th of April, 1220, the foundations of the new cathedral were laid. Accord ing to the Catholic custom, the bishop laid the first stone for the Pope ; then he laid one for the Archbishop of Canterbury ; and, lastly, one for himself. The Earl of Salisbury, who was present, then placed a stone, and his countess one also ; and other nobles did the same. From 1 2 17 to 1225 Bishop Poor laboured, begged, preached, and saved, for the building of his new cathedral. He was a peace-loving prelate ; and he loved, also, his church, and the people who were confided to his care. Richard Poor had been Dean of Sarum before he was consecrated Bishop of Chichester; and so he was no stranger to the people and their needs when he was translated from Chichester back to Sarum. The old Sarum register speaks of the joy of that church when he went back to them, and adds that he was " very learned ; and, what is far more excellent, adequately equipped with all good quahties."-^ We know something of his devotion to his church, and his love for his people. And of his energy, perseverance, and trustful patience we know something also ; for the splendid cathedral speaks plainly of how he must have toiled. Bishop Poor was in the midst of his hardest work, ' Regist. S. Osm., ii. p. iv. I 1 8 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON a work which was being talked of far and near which all England was watching and caring for, when Edmund, the great Oxford scholar and theologian, great as a teacher, but greater as a missionary preacher, and greater still by the wonderful sanctity of his life, was elected treasurer at Salisbury. In connection with this election we would notice that in 1220 the Archbishop of Canterbury called all his suffragans to meet together at Oxford, that they might hold a council at Oseney Abbey.^ Among them must have been Richard Poor, Bishop of Salisbury. Then, probably, he heard much about Edmund Rich, who was at once the most celebrated teacher, and the most eloquent preacher in the University. Perhaps for the first time Bishop Poor met St. Edmund, and talked with him ; or he might have heard him preach. There were many men in Oxford who would have been ready and eager to relate something of Edmund's charity, devotion, and learning. This council was held at Oseney Abbey in 1220. And we note that in the year 1222 Edmund's name appears for the first time in the Sarum register. It is not, therefore, incon sistent to think that it was when Bishop Poor was in Oxford, to attend the council at Oseney, that Edmund became personally known to him. The canons at Salisbury were secular canons. They did not live in community, as religious, but by themselves, in separate dwellings. Concerning ' Annates Monast., iv. p. 62. TREASURER AT SALISBURY II9 their work, we find that they were to be the " special companions and advisers of the bishop. They are described collectively as ' consilium episcopi contra haereses et schismata.' There were many matters of importance in ancient days which a bishop could never undertake without their consent. ... A certain number were always required to be in resi dence at the cathedral church, for the purpose of maintaining its perpetual round of services. . . . They were to go forth as missionaries to carry, as from the fountain source, the blessings of one common faith to all in the diocese." ^ We can understand that these special duties were attractive to Edmund. To refute heresies would especially appeal to him, while the occasional freedom from residence would make it easy for him to visit mon asteries ; the missionary work would make preaching a strict duty ; and the extra income would enable him to assist others. St. Edmund "never wished to retain more than one ecclesiastical benefice, though repeatedly several were offered him, and this only with the duty of residence. As often as he resolved to devote him self to lectures, he used to resign, without waiting the advice of any other man. At last he accepted a benefice, in order that he might preach the word of God more freely, without offence, and without inconvenience to his hearers, and retained it, yield ing to the entreaties and prayers of some. He ' Regist, S, Osm., ii. p. xxx. I20 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON accepted therefore, in the famous cathedral of Salisbury, together with a canonry, the dignity of treasurer, to which the bishop invited him, and the canons received him with special reverence." ^ The election must have caused great joy to the bishop, and to all the canons. It would seem that no better help could have been granted to them ; and they must have welcomed gladly the man who was best able, in all England, to help them with wise counsel, and true sympathy; and who could speak for them, write for them, and preach for them. We can look back and see the wisdom of the elec tion, and how Edmund's presence at Salisbury not only brought the new church into greater notice; but was a special consolation to the bishop, and to the sons of that church, in the hardest hour of their labours. At Salisbury new duties awaited Edmund. In the old Sarum register, known as the Register of St. Osmund, there are many entries of considerable interest in connection with Edmund's appointment as treasurer. But, before speaking of them, the register itself claims our attention. Though known as St. Osmund's Register, it is not the original work composed and arranged by that great saint. It is a compilation, in handwriting of early thirteenth century, which embodies the original composition of St. Osmund, and it is also a register of the events that took place at Salisbury from the 1 Addit. MS., t, 98''. SAINT Osmund's register 121 beginning of the thirteenth century. The greater part of it must have been written while Edmund was treasurer. It is a remarkable work, both in its design, and in its execution; and there is strong evidence pointing to the conclusion that a con siderable portion of it is the work of Edmund the Saint and Scholar." The first part is the Consue tudinary of the Church of Sarum, in which is found an account of the treasurer's duties; the second part tells of the foundation of the cathedral, and gives some account of the dependent churches. From this register we learn that the treasurer's staU in the church was on the north side of the choir, nearest to the High Altar. And to enable the treasurer to meet aU the necessary expenses of his office. Bishop Poor assigned the prebend of Calne to the treasurership. There is a pathetic account of how Bishop Poor, in 1220, besought his canons to go out and preach, to ask alms for the new cathedral. He begged them " with sighs and even with tears." But, though they promised at the time, they refused when the next day came. It is a very minor incident in the history of the new church ; but it is eloquent in showing why the bishop, who was so zealous in his work, was glad to have Edmund, a preacher who would not faU him, among his canons. From St. Osmund's Register we gather all the history of the building of the church, and the details of the foundation : how, after the ^Regist. S, Osm., ii., Preface. 122 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON Divine Office had been recited, the bishop walked barefoot to the appointed place, his canons walking in procession with hun, and all singing the litany. And then the bishop, as we have already related, laid the first stone of that beautiful building. The name " treasurer " is, perhaps, a little mis leading. It is not used in the sense of " bursar " ; though doubtless the treasurer had something to do in keeping, or helping to keep, the monies connected with the cathedral. And at the time when the new cathedral was being built, all such duties would have been more onerous. But, chiefly, the treasurer seems to have had charge of the treasures of the church, and he was responsible for the expenses connected with the services. He had to supply the lights in the church, the rushes, and the mats ; and he was responsible for the well-hanging of the bells. It was the treasurer's special duty to keep carefully the Chalices, the relics, the pixes, jewels, vestments, and all valuable things. The treasurer had to find, and pay, two sacristans; and to supply all that was required for the altars. He was treasurer in a far higher sense than that of " bursar." And to St. Edmund the duties must have been entire joy and gladness. In the Register of. St. Osmund is a list of the " ornamenta " which were in the treasury of the church when Abraham, St. Edmund's predecessor in the office, had charge of them. It was a magnificent collection of sacred and precious things. Yet, though wonderful in our eyes now, not more magnificent than THE "ORNAMENTA I 23 the other cathedral churches possessed ; perhaps not equal to many in value. Kings, queens, and nobles, in Catholic England, gave liberally to the churches of the land ; not only presents of money, but rich gifts of gold, and jewels, and books. All the Ust of the Sarum " ornamenta " cannot be given here ; but a few items only wiU show the kind of treasures that St. Edmund had charge of — One great golden text, containing twenty sapphires, six emeralds, eight topazes, eighteen alemandinas, eight garnets, and twelve pearls. — Also, one Book of the Gospels, well gUt, with eight stones. — Also, four texts covered with silver, all gilt but one. — One great cross covered with sUver, with wood of the cross of Blessed Peter. — The arm of St. Aldhelm covered with silver, with many stones. — One feretrum of ivory, in which are contained many relics. — One great beryl, with reUcs. — One morse for the cope which the archbishop gave to the church, well covered with four sapphires, four pearls, two turquoises, and eight garnets. — One Chalice of gold of the weight of three marks ; and seven ChaUces of silver.-^ — One crown of silver, with three chains of silver, with a silver dove, for the Eucharist. — ^Three thuribles of sUver, with one silver boat, for the incense.— One chasuble, which was Bishop Osmund's, with twenty-four stones. — Four mitres.* • Probably the gold Chalice and the seven silver Chalices which St. Osmund gave to the cathedral. See p. 115. ^Regist. S, Osm,, ii. p. 127. 124 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON And how faithfuUy St. Edmund discharged his duties as treasurer we know from Bishop Poor's words when he annexed the prebend of Calne to the treasurership. — "We wish it to come to the knowledge of the whole community that, with the common consent of our chapter, we have definitely resolved that the prebend of Calne should be from this time hence forth inseparably annexed to the treasurer's office, in the church of Sarum, to relieve the slender income and needs of the same dignity, from which various expenses are required in our church. But whoever henceforth shall hold the office of treasurer with the aforesaid prebend, shall maintain fuUy, and without diminution, the increase of lights which is known to have been generously instituted by our beloved son, Master Edmund. And that what has been deter mined by us in this matter may have perpetual stability, we have confirmed the same with the present writing, our seal, and the seal of our chapter in common." ^ The life St. Edmund led at Salisbury must have been as laborious, and as fuU of active works of charity, as his life at Oxford had been. There was his first duty, the care of the church, and the altars, and the treasures. It was no light work ; for, in estimating it, we must bear in mind the daily Masses, and the needful preparations for all solemn functions. It was recognised that the treasurer ' Regist, S. Osm., ii. p. 25. HIS DUTIES AS TREASURER 125 needed two sacristans to help him. And yet we can feel sure that Edmund, with his great love for all holy things, did his appointed work most faith fully, and often did personally more than was obligatory. There were his duties in chapter; for although he had obtained an apostolic indult ex empting him from attendance during the examina tion of law cases, and if he chanced to be present when any legal discussion vas going on he would take no part tn it,^ yet there are several instances of his being with his brother canons, in chapter, on important occasions, and so it is evident that he did not absent himself when his presence was really needed. He had the charge of the church at Calne, and the care of the people. And there was the obligation to preach. Very generously, and with all earnestness, did Edmund give himself to these various duties. His great personal influence had been deeply felt at Oxford, and had left its mark for good among his pupUs and friends in the University. And at SaUsbury, in his more pro minent position, the influence of his great person ahty was felt in wider circles, and its controlling effects were more powerful. It was then that " his great fame flew past the Alps to the City of Rome, and came to the ears of the Pope. The Apostolic Father, knowing his zeal for the crusade, committed to him the Legation of the Cross, with power to receive procurations from churches and rectors of ^ Addit, MS,, f, 99, 126 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON churches, so that he might reap carnal things from those in whom he was sowing spiritual things. This power, however, he did not use ; but, preaching the gospel without reward, did a soldier's duty without receiving a soldier's pay."^ St. Edmund's humility is plainly spoken of in the manuscript Lives. We find that — " After this eminent theologian had spent many years in teaching the law,* on which his whole wiU was set, both night and day, he discontinued his lectures, and at once resigned his master's chair; because he thought it impossible to engage in the subtleties of disputation without vainglory. By command of the Pope, however, he sowed the seed on behalf of the crusade, and not without a rich harvest. Often, at his invocation of the name of Christ, the clouds and the rain would obey his command, that the congregation of faithful people might not be driven away from his preaching." ^ Once, "about the same time of the Rogations, when on a certain day, about the hour of Terce, he was preaching to an immense multitude in the cemetery of the church of All Saints, at Oxford, on the north side, a certain cloud very large and dark appeared, and through its density there was, as it were, darkness over the earth. And that cloud began with such a rush and sound to drive and, as it were, to lower from the western quarter over ^Ball. CoU, MS,, f. 55*. » The "law of the Lord." 3 Cot, MS,, f. 129I'. HE PREACHES THE CRUSADE 1 27 the people, that many began to go away. On seemg this, St. Edmund imposed silence, with his hand, and bade them sit down, saying, ' Sit down in the name of the Lord ; and I will ask my Lord that the devil may not have the power to hinder my sermon.' Then he stood for a short space in sUence; and devoutly looking up to heaven, began to preach. Then that cloud was at once dissolved on the southern side into such a deluge of rain, that almost a river rolled down from that quarter. But of those who were sitting at the sermon, not one was touched by a single drop of rain. Hence, after the sermon, the whole multitude cried out, saying, ' We have seen clearly that God has worked this miracle for the sake of that blessed man.'" ^ A like miracle is recorded in connection with St. Edmund's preaching at Hereford; and also at Worcester. Surely the Lord, " who stilled the rolling wave of Galilee," was with him. Into the country round about Oxford, and into Berkshire, Worcestershire, and Gloucestershire, St. Edmund went ; and continually wonders and signs foUowed his preaching. On one occasion, " a young man wished to receive the sign of the cross, when a woman seized his cloak, and drew him back. Im mediately her hand was contracted. Hearing her cries and waUing, St. Edmund asked what was the matter. And learning all that had happened, he said to the woman, ' Wilt thou take the cross ? ' 1 Ball. Coll, MS,, f. 56. 128 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON She answered, 'I wiU.' And, in the very act of receiving the cross, her hand was restored." ^ The author of the Balliol manuscript tells us much about St. Edmund's preaching; and relates, tn the simple words of those times, the miracles that were granted. Once, he tells us, when " the Saint had to preach at Bokeland, where are nuns of the Cistercian Order, there appeared a nun, that had before died, to one of her companions, and told her, ' Master Edmund is coming hither to preach. Give him the yarn which is in such a place, that he may make crosses of it.' So it was done. And many took the cross made of this yarn. Yet. the yam was not diminished." * The people had, hitherto, heard nothing Uke St. Edmund's preaching; and they flocked to him to hear the words of life. All went to hear him ; the aged and the young ; the good, the careless, and the scoffers. On one occasion it happened that " a woman, a notorious sinner, came to him, tn a jeer ing spirit, saying to her companions, ' Let us go and see this hypocrite.' To her he gave such salutary advice, that she returned to a right mind, and entirely renounced her former mode of life." ^ Edmund was never inclined to take the cross himself, and join the crusade : he was content with the work assigned to him at home, and he appears to have given himself ungrudgingly to that work. 1 Ball, CM. MS,, f. 5Si>. 2 Ibid,, f. 56. ' Ibid,, i, S3. THE CRUSADE I 29 He saw, we may well believe, all the great spiritual advantages of the crusade which he undertook to preach. It was not an ordinary warfare, with its certainty of loss of life ; its sufferings, hardships, and also glory. The crusade meant very high and im portant things. It was an effort, the sixth effort that had been made, to save the Holy City. The success of the crusade would check the progress of Mahomedanism. The crusader was fighting for Christ, in the literal and direct meaning of those words. As Gerald, Patriarch of Jerusalem, wrote, — " The Blood of Christ calls from this country on each and every one. . . . Do you, therefore, each and all of you, rouse yourselves to help the Holy Land, as this may be deemed the common cause both of your faith, and of all christian people." ^ Edmund may also have seen how, apart from these considerations, the crusade would benefit Europe, and especially England, by opening new roads for commerce, and helping to renew the study of classical Uterature; whUe it was, beyond doubt, a great means of lifting the nations of Europe out of many petty feuds, and avoiding international enmities and wars. In the year 1227, "at the end of the month of June, a great commotion took place, of those who had taken the cross, throughout the whole world. The number of the crusaders was so great that out of the realm of England alone, so they say, more than sixty thousand honest men, besides old men ^ Matt, Paris, iii. p. 130. I I30 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON and women, set out for the crusade. Master Hubert, one of the preachers in England, declared this, and asserted that he had put down as many in his Ust. All of them, and especially the poor, who are as a rule more pleasing to God, and who are more zealous for the work of the cross, have taken up the crusade with such devotion, that they have doubtless won the favour of God, which, as is well known, has been manifested by evident signs." ^ Among those who left England " to work for Christ Crucified" were the venerable bishops, Peter of Winchester, and William of Exeter. For nearly five years they fulfilled their vow of crusade. They helped and strengthened the Enghsh forces by their example; and they encouraged, by their presence, the large crowds of men and women, the pilgrim army, bent on rescuing the Holy Land and the sacred places from unbelievers. But Edmund, and it was characteristic of him, accepted the simple home-task, to go from place to place in the near counties and preach to the people the cause of the war, and the duty, so sacredly bind ing upon Catholics, to wrest the Holy City from the infidels. Perhaps Edmund shrank from the inevi table horrors of war. His gentle and sensitive nature could hardly have borne the coarse sights, the cruel deeds, and the constant talk of strife and battle. His body, weakened perhaps by habitual fasts, and by his limitation of rest and sleep, would * Matt, Paris, iii. p. 126. HE PREACHES THE CRUSADE 131 have been UI able to meet the exigencies and sudden emergencies of a crusader's active life. Nor would his own saint-life have had any sympathy with the bold daring of warfare, the glory of success, or the revelry of conquerors. But that same gentleness and sensitiveness, that shrinking from strife, and worldly show, and the praise of men, which would have made him unfit for the life of a crusader, made htm eminently fit for the pastoral work so wisely assigned to him ; while his asceticism, his long fasts and severe mortifications, had given him that strength of spirituality and force of personal con viction which kindled the flame of his glowing eloquence. Edmund could have said, with St. Paul, " I therefore so run, not as at an uncertainty ; I so fight, not as one beating the air ; but I chastise my body, and bring it into subjection; lest, perhaps, when I have preached to others, I myself should become a cast-away." ^ To preach the crusade was an important work : to be deputed to that work by the Holy Father made it a sacred duty. St. Bernard, the great saint of the preceding century, had given himself to the same work ; and great indeed had been his influence, and the effect of his eloquence. " In consequence of the preaching of Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux, Conrad, the Roman emperor, took the cross, and with him a countless number of people. In the next year following, the said emperor entered upon ' I Cor, ix. 27. 132 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON the crusade, followed by seventy thousand maUed knights, besides the foot-soldiers, the chUdren, the women, and the light cavalry." ^ And now St. Edmund was asked to do the same high work in England. In his heart there burned a great zeal for the crusade. He had the true crusader's spirit ; a deep reverence for holy things ; a spirit of self-sacrifice ; an eager desire to recover the Holy Sepulchre, where the Body of Christ had been buried, and to preserve it as a possession for the faithful. And we recognise, in the method of his spiritual life, that he was essentiaUy a Soldier- Saint. He was tn truth a soldier fully equipped : his weapons were the well-tried steel of love and hope, and the strong breastplate of righteousness. " Such flowers, therefore, blooming in this blessed man, with the most delightful beauty, the odour of his uprightness, and likewise of his saintliness, began to spread throughout the breadth of the whole region of England, round about. For his teaching was so Catholic and clear, that it was talked about by all men, everywhere throughout the whole province. His tongue was as the pen of a ready writer. For his eloquence was ready and spontaneous ; and, with a terse brevity, it was both rhetorical and full of force, and sUghtly decorated with the Gregorian style. In him was proved the poet's rule, ' the man who mingles profit with delight, carries every vote.' * He was also skiUed to bring forth new and old things ^ Matt. Paris, ii. p. i8o. ^ Horace, Ars Poetica, 1. 343. THE REPUTE OF HIS PREACHING 1 33 from the treasury of Holy Writ, in a most marveUous way, beyond the capacity of man ; so that when he was lecturing or preaching, it seemed to his hearers that the finger of God was writing the words of life on his heart." ^ ' Cot. MS., f. 129!'. CHAPTER VIII William Longsword, Earl of Salisbury — Countess Ela — The earl's conversion — His death — The monastery at Hinton — Laycook Abbey — Calne — Edmund's generosity — Stephen of Lexinton — The monastery at Stanley — Bishop Poor trans lated to Durham — Edmund's name in the Sarum register — Edmund is elected to the see of Canterbury Perhaps in no period of St. Edmund's life are the many and different gifts that he possessed more clearly illustrated than in the years which he spent at Salisbury. Much has been said about his eloquence, and how he drew souls to God by his preaching. But he had, also, that higher eloquence, the power of direct appeal to individual hearts which has ever been the special gift granted to the great mystic saints. It was as if his own abundant faith and charity were, to some extent, reflected tn the hearts of those who drew near to htm. His own love was so ardent, it moved and transformed the apathetic, till they also turned their eyes towards Calvary, and were drawn to things of higher and better worth than they had dreamed of before. There are manifold instances of this special power of Edmund's influence, tn the history of his life ; but the most striking ones are connected with his life at Salisbury. WILLIAM LONGSWORD 135 William Longsword, Earl of Salisbury, was half- brother to King John. As a knight he was famous for his courage and daring, and for many brilliant achievements tn the field. He was a knight of fame, both for his royal birth, and his many deeds of valour; a brave, proud man. He was also known as one who scorned all piety, and had a reckless contempt for religion, and for the precepts of the Church. His wife, the Countess Ela, was a gentle and devout woman ; and it was through her intercession that Earl WiUiam consented to meet St. Edmund. A very beautiful friendship existed between Ela and our Saint. "A certain noblewoman," we are told, " Eva, once Countess of Salisbury, but at this time venerable abbess of a monastery which she had founded on her own land and at her own cost, had by reason of her sanctity won the great favour of an holy familiarity with him. She had an husband, WUliam, surnamed Longsword, a man of distinction indeed, inasmuch as he was a count, and of royal descent; yet doing less than due honour to his noble origin for lack of the grace of a noble integrity of life. For it was a long time since he had been to confession, and he had neglected to receive the Body of Christ as required by the custom of the Church universal. But the aforesaid lady, his wife, persuaded him to submit himself to the blessed man's counsel, and take up a new fashion of life according to his improving admonitions. And, as 136 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON soon as ever he first set eyes on the face of blessed Edmund, on the very beholding of him, the brutal coarseness of his mind was at once softened and humanised ; and, turning to his wife, ' I do indeed believe,' said he, ' that this man is a true saint.' And thereafter he heard him gladly. And so far did the seed of God's Word wax strong in his heart, that he put away all the enormities of his former life, and changed his ways for the better. For at his advice, and tn his presence, he confessed humbly all his sins to a certain hermit, and afterwards received the Body of Christ with becoming reverence. And it was the firm belief of the aforesaid abbess, his wife, that had it not been for these holy admonitions, prayers, and merits, the soul of this same count would after death have passed for ever into eternal torments." " Nor was this repentance merely some passing emotion, a transient sense of sorrow, a reflex in the proud man's soul, for the time being only, of the Saint's deep horror of evU and crime. The change in his heart was fundamental, and lasting. The monk of St. Albans, who has saved for us so many facts nearly associated with St. Edmimd's life, relates how, when death was near at hand, the repentant earl prepared himself for that supreme moment. — " Then, as his sickness increased, when he noticed most certain signs of his death, he made the bishop ^ Addit. MS.,f. 96. COUNTESS ELA I 37 of the city come to him, that he might undertake those things which are a Christian's duty, in the matter of confession and the Viaticum, and might make a valid will concerning his worldly property. When, however, the bishop entered the chamber in which the earl was lying, the latter, quite naked save only his waist, and tying a rough halter about his neck, leaping up from bed to meet the bishop bearing the Body of the Lord, with a sincere burst of tears, prostrated himself on the ground, bearing witness that he was the betrayer of the Supreme King. Nor was he willing to move from the spot, except after making confession, and receiving the Communion of the Ufe-giving sacrament, that he might show himself the servant of his Creator." ^ After her husband's death the Countess Ela de voted the remaining years of her life to good works. She buUt and endowed a convent at Laycock, tn WUtshire, not far from Calne, for Augustinian nuns ; and, foUowing a wish expressed in her husband's wUl, she built a monastery at Hinton, tn Somerset shire, for Carthusian monks. The charter for the foundation of the house at Laycock was witnessed by Edmund. It is dated AprU 20, 1230; but the convent was not opened as a religious house untU the 1 6th of April, 1232. And on that same day monks from Heythorp were sent to the new monas tery at Hinton. The monastery at Hinton was a weU ordered ' Matt. Pa/ris, iii. 104. 138 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON house of earnest and religious men when Henry VIH. began his work of suppression and plunder. The true spirit of religion had been preserved by the monks ; and the spirit of its early foundation, and many traditions of charitable work, were found in the monastery which owed its origin to the generosity of the Coimtess Ela. Nor is it impro bable that the continued well-doing of that monas tery was due to the interest which our Saint must have taken in it, tn the first years of its existence, and to the many prayers he must have said for its spiritual and temporal prosperity. When the monks of the Charterhouse of Hinton were urged to resign their monastery, they resisted; and the letter from their prior, to his brother in London, is another testimony to the faithfulness of the Carthusians at that time. " In Owr Lord Ihesu shall be yowr Salutation," Prior Horde wrote. "And where ye marvelle that I and my brotherne do nott frelye and voluntarUie geve and surrendure upe owr Howse at the mocyone off the Kyngs commisstnars, but stonde styffiye (and as ye thynke) obstenatlye tn owr opynion, trulye Brothere I marveUe gretlye that ye thynke soo; but, rather that ye wolde have thowght us lyghte and hastye in gevyn upe that thynge whyche ys not owrs to geve, but dedicate to AUmyghtye Gode for service to be done to hys honoure contynuallye, with other many goode dedds off charitewhiche daylye be done in thys Howse to our Christen neybors." ^ ^ Orig. Letters, II. Ser. II., 131. \ THE CONVENT AT LAYCOCK 1 39 Prior Horde and his monks remained faithful for some time ; but finally the house was surrendered. The friendship which existed between Ela and St. Edmund deepened as the years passed. The high born lady, in her exalted position, learnt to depend on the advice of the saintly priest whose entire life was a practical denouncement of world- Itness and luxury. It is not difficult to read be tween the lines of written history, and see how, by Edmund's advice, or, assuredly, with his sanction and blessing, the widowed countess buUt the monas tery at Hinton, and the convent at Laycock. The latter house was within easy reach of Calne, where Edmund spent some months in every year. When at Calne he could, without much difficulty, visit Laycock; and it is more than probable that he watched the buUding of the convent, supervised its early reUgious life, and was a frequent visitor within its waUs. Just three hundred years later there came other "visitors" to Laycock, commissioners from those who were as keen for the destruction of the house as Ela had been for its establishment. And, in spite of their written testimony, " We found nothing at Lacock. The house is well ordered," ^ and " At Laycok we can find no excesses," * the house was suppressed, and the nuns dispersed. The Laycock Abbey of to-day is a private country house, buUt on the site of the destroyed nunnery ; 1 Calendar, ix. 160. ^ Ibid., 139. I40 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON and it " still retains the old cloisters, chapter-house, kitchen, and treasury for records, where is preserved Henry III.'s Magna Charta of 1225, sent to the Countess of Salisbury, who at that time held the shrievalty of the county of WUts. The charter is 15 inches by lol, with the seal still attached. Here are also preserved the beU and many other relics of the old nunnery." ^ But our thoughts wander to the house built by Ela for religious women ; and where she herself, having taken the vows of religion in 1236, wore the white habit, and lived a quiet and peaceful life among her nuns ; and where, as abbess, she died. The ruined walls of the old cloisters, and chapter house, and treasury, mark for us the ground where the Countess Ela and her first nuns lived according to the Augustinian rule ; and those ruins are landmarks, also, pointing to where St. Edmund must sometimes have stood, and where his blessing often rested. Once, but there is no clue tn the narrative to when this happened, the Abbess of Laycock was very UI with a most severe fever. And then St. Edmund " promised that he would send to her a physician who would cure her more quickly than his art. After a little whUe he sent her the relics, you must know, of the blood of blessed Thomas the martyr ; after receiving which, immediately the woman was cured, and the fever itself disappeared. ' Nat. Gazetteer, under "Laycock." HIS LIFE AT CALNE 141 Perhaps some one will say this miracle must not be ascribed to his merits, but rather to the blessed martyr whose precious blood he had sent her. Be it so. For we prefer to believe another opinion, rather than to be a slave to contention. This however no one of sane mind denies to belong to his merits ; that he, as if foreknowing it, prophesied that health would be conferred on the woman I have mentioned, by the relic of the aforesaid martyr. But the afore-mentioned abbess, being a noble countess, offered to him beautiful and precious jewels, which he was scarcely willing to look at, and by no means consented to receive." ^ Edmund lived for the greater part of each year at SaUsbury, fulfilUng his duties as treasurer ; and a portion of each year he spent at Calne, devoting himself to the poor of his parish. When messengers arrived to tell him that he was elected to the see of Canterbury, he was " discovered amidst his devotion to divine contemplatioh, and the government of his flock." And that "devotion to divine contempla tion" was probably the chief cause of his leaving the busy life at Salisbury. At Calne he had solitude, and rest from the many cares and distractions which must accompany an active life. Calne was a smaU viUage, and Edmund's only work was the care of the people, who were poor and simple folk. The viUage life in England, in those days, can but hardly be imagined now. If the viUage were at all distant > Addit. MS., t loob. 142 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON from the main road, and had also no trade of its own, or no special fairday, to bring it into notice and be a reason for intercourse and direct com munication with other viUages, the life was quiet and monotonous beyond that of any country vUlage of to-day. No near railway, coach, or carrier, brought visitors from the larger world around. No letters arrived, and no letters were sent out ; and no newspapers gave accounts of what was going on elsewhere. The people, labourers, fishermen, stone masons, Uved the simplest possible lives ; as far removed from turmoil and the exciting questions of the time as if hundreds of mUes away. In the midst of such solitude and seclusion Edmund spent some months of every year, while he was treasurer of Salisbury. It would seem to have been at Calne that an incident occurred which is related by the Lanercost chronicler. Edmund had asked his attendant to have a light always burning, that it might be ready at any time when he might wish to study. But it happened once, in the depth of winter, that Edmund rose in the middle of a stormy night, and hastened to the threshold of the church. Then, we are told, that " the chamberlain hearing this traversed the kitchen and the rest of the house to find a light ; and, not to be caught, wandered through the viUage from house to house. Seeing, however, in a more remote part of the village, an house gleaming with light, and an open door, he hastened to the place. HIS LIFE AT CALNE 1 43 kindled his lantern, and made haste to the church. In the meantime the prudent pastor had come to the churchyard to give the dead the benefit of his prayers : and lo ! he saw the tombs of all to be open, and the bodies of the dead raised as far as the gfrdle ; and amongst them one, by the sign of the tonsure, a priest, he saw thus speaking to the rest who trusted him. ' My brethren, let us confer a return on him who, while living, incited the minds of men to pray to the Lord for the dead.' And be ginning the psalm De profundis, tn alternate verses he sang it with the rest of those who had come to life. And when they had finished the Lord's prayer, and the priest had said the coUect, he thus con cluded, ' Let us rest,' he said, ' in peace.' And they replying ' Amen,' suddenly all sought again the depths of their tombs. While these things were seen, up flew the chamberlain with a candle. He was asked where he found the light he sought. And when he declared that it was in the extremity of the village, where the body of a poor man lay dead, who, going round with a bell, was wont to pray for the souls of the dead, the prudent man, cheered and edified by the vision, gave thanks to God." ^ Edmund must have Uved as a poor man among his poor. In his eagerness to help others and to be hospitable, he would often exhaust his income before the year was out ; and then he had to live on the charity of others, or as best he could, with only ^ Chron. de Lam,., p. 37. 144 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON the bare necessaries of life, until his stipend as canon was again paid to him. Indeed, he gave of his income " to the poor and needy with all lavishness, so that it scarcely sufficed for necessary expenses beyond the half year. Wherefore, sometimes, he made a stay in the monastery of Stanley tn which that venerable man, Stephen of Lexinton, was then abbot, being obliged to do so by want of property. And so the abbot himself, with the freedom of friend ship, once blaming him, said that he made his ex penses too great, tn doing more than he knew his resources could do. For he ought, as the same abbot said, to moderate his expenses within the limit of his revenues, so that they might suffice for himself and his people through the whole year. To which the other replied. ' I prefer,' said he, ' to make my expenses liberal rather than narrow, so as not to give occasion of robbery and offence to the wicked, who with the tongue of the serpent are wont to say, that theologians, as a rule, are miserly. And I wUlingly receive lawyers or secular persons at my table, that so at any rate I may win them to God." ' We remember Master Stephen of Lexinton, who, listening to St. Edmund tn the schools at Oxford, was so inflamed with divine fire, that he left the world, and took the vows of religion at Quarr Abbey. Now Stephen was Abbot of Stanley, and so again he was near to the teacher, who had been, under God, the greatest influence in his Ufe. And we see the 1 Addit. MS., f. 40. HIS DISREGARD OF MONEY 1 45 abbot, his own life moulded to the rule of poverty, with his quiet dignity, and with that " freedom of friendship " which is one of the charms of religious life, gently rebuking the Saint for his old, inherent contempt for money and income. Abbot Stephen had had to live in poverty, with no money he could call his own, no property, no possessions ; but yet had to keep his abbey accounts in order, and to regulate the expenditure, and supervise the revenues of his house. To him, Edmund's lavish hospitality ap peared almost a sin ; as, tn the monastery, it would have been. But Edmund had no house of monks depending on his prudent administration. He had "carried neither purse nor bag for money." When at Paris, he had sold his treasured books, to give the price of them to poor scholars; and, when others wondered, he gave that brave answer, " 0 fool ! for love of Christ everything ought to be sold, and given to the poor." In all places, and at all times, "money he neither touched, nor cared to see ; saving, per chance, that which passed from his own hands into those of the poor." He had preached the crusade, refusing to receive the procurations, and so had " done a soldier's duty without receiving a soldier's pay." Such had been the habit of Edmund's life ; and he could see no law compelhng him to take thought for the morrow. The abbey at Stanley^ could point to a royal foundation. It was first founded at Lockswell, and 1 More correctly Stanleigh. E 146 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON the land there was given to the monks of Quarr, on condition that they would send thither thirteen monks, and so establish a Cistercian abbey. In 1 1 5 1 the house was removed from Lockswell to Stanley by Henry II. and his mother, the Empress Maud. There the Cistercian abbey was firmly estabUshed; and it was probably, in its early days, dependent upon Quarr, to which house the royal gift had been made. This accounts for Stephen of Lexinton, from Quarr, being elected to abbatial dignities at Stanley. There is little history to tell of this fine old house. It was never rich. When CrumweU's commissioner. Dr. Leigh, visited the monastery, the revenues were not ;£^20o in yearly value. Dr. Leigh, we read, " made no less ruffling " ^ with the Abbot of Stanley than he had with the Abbot of Bruton; and at Bruton he had "behaved very insolently." When the poor ;^2oo of yearly revenue had been appro priated, Henry VIH. gave the site of the despoUed abbey to Sir Edward Bainton ; and we hear nothiag of what became of the altar-plate, the manuscripts, and treasures, which were probably the loot of the " ruffling " commissioners when St. Bernard's monks were finally driven from their home. Now there is hardly a stone left to mark the ground where the church and house once stood. The place is stUl known as " King's Stanley," or " Empress Stanley " ; but no vestige of the old Cistercian house is visible : there is only the high road, the open country, and 1 Calendar, ix. 622. HIS FRIENDS AT SALISBURY 1 47 part of a broken bridge. Yet we would tread reverently if passing near to where the monastery formerly stood ; for our Saint spent many months there, living as the religious lived. We would fain linger over the years Edmund spent at Salisbury. It was essentially the peaceful period of his Ufe. He had his duties as treasurer ; and he was preaching, writing, labouring, always. He had manifold cares, and some heavy responsi bilities ; yet the surroundings of his Ufe were always happy, and he had much quiet joy. There can be no doubt about how he was loved by the bishop, and by his brother canons at Salisbury. He was truly a son of that church ; and he was surrounded by friends. The names of some have been preserved for us. WUUam Wanda, Henry de Bishopstone, and EUas de Derham,^ were all men of note; and they were members of the Salisbury chapter, and worthy of the friendship of our Saint. And even when at Calne, where Edmund had the quietude and leisure for prayer for which his soul always longed, he was stUl near to friends. There was Laycock Abbey, with its pious inmates; and Stanley Abbey, with Stephen of Lexinton as abbot. Perhaps of all St. Edmund's friends, at this period of his life. Bishop Poor was the nearest and dearest. All that we know about the bishop proves his devo tion to his diocese, and especiaUy to those who were near to him in his cathedral. Surely Edmund, with ' See Regist. S. Osm. 148 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON his saintliness, and learning, and winning graces, must have been most dear to him. In 1228 the Pope translated Bishop Poor to the see of Durham, and the bishop then wrote a beautiful letter to the dean and chapter at SaUsbury, beginning " He, who is ignorant of nothing, and to whom aU things are naked and open, bears me witness that I would rather my soul had migrated from my body, than that I should be so suddenly torn from the church in whose bosom I have been nourished. I would not have been separated from my beloved sons, but by the wUl of God, and in obedience to the orders of that Superior whom to resist is to resist God, as the wise tell me." ^ The document is very simple, just an ordinary letter ; but it opens for us a far- reaching vista. We see plainly the piety and humUity of our English bishop, and his loyalty and loving obedience to the See of Rome. Edmund's name appears several times in the Sarum register. He witnessed a deed tn 1222, and another tn 1223. On September 29, 1225, he was present at the first service ui the new cathedral, where, on the preceding day, three altars had been consecrated ; ^ and he must have listened to the sermon preached by the Archbishop of Canterbury. And it seems he was present on October 2, in the same year, when the king visited the cathedral, and, after assisting at Mass, gave, costly gifts to the church.' Edmimd was present 1 Regist. S. Osm,, ii. p. lOO. ^ Ibid,, pp. 37-39. * Ibid., p. 43. HIS NAME EST THE REGISTER 1 49 when a subscription for seven years was promised by the canons towards the buUding fund for the new cathedral. And his name also appears among the names of those who were present tn chapter, on August 15, 1226, to consider the question of granting a subsidy to the king.^ When, in 1230, the bishop and chapter of the church at Salisbury added their sanction to the foundation of Laycock Abbey, Edmund's name is among the witnesses.^ And on October 19, 1233, ^^ renewed his promise of a subscription to the building fund ; and at the same time he promised, being requested to do so by his brother canons, to continue for the next seven years the supply of wax and candles which he had always given to the church since he had been treasurer. But both these promises were made " out of mere grace," that such subscriptions and gift might not be regarded as a permanent tax on the canons' incomes. This last promise was made just after he was elected to the see of Canterbury ; and the very generous promise to his friends at Salis bury was Uke an assurance that, though he was leaving them, he would not forget them and their great needs. His name in the register, and on the charters, on many occasions besides these, proves the frequency of his presence in chapter, and is a witness to the keen interest he took tn questions of importance. There is no mention, in the Sarum register, of 1 Regist, S. Osm., ii. p. 60. " Ibid., p. 120. I50 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON Edmund's election to Canterbury. We have to turn to the manuscript Lives of the Saint for the account of how the news of that election was carried to Salisbury, and with what mingled joy and sorrow the bishop and the canons received it; and how Edmund, in his humility, sought to avoid the honour of such an exalted position. "And as these and countless other flowers of virtues and wonders blossomed forth in the blessed man, the holy fragrance of so marveUous a sanctity began to be diffused in every direction. And, as it pleased the Most High, the see of Canterbury faUing vacant, this man, so holy, innocent, undefiled, separate from sinners, was by the undoubted wUl of God canonically elected archbishop. Some there were who strove to oppose his election; but, through the Divine intervention, could not arrive at what they designed. For tn doing their best endeavour to prevent his election, they were rather the occasion of furthering it : even as happened to holy Joseph, whose brethren, in labouring to humble him, were labouring unawares to raise him stUl higher above themselves. This election at length being duly held tn the usual way, canonically and unanimously, forthwith the customary messengers joyfully set out on their journey to him. And coming to Salisbury Church, where the holy man filled the office of treasurer, they inquired for htm. But inasmuch as he was not there, so neither could he be found there. But when the dean had ascertained the HE IS ELECTED ARCHBISHOP 151 reason of their coming, and had greeted them, he spoke thus: 'Welcome, indeed, in that you have honoured our church by choosing an archbishop for us out of it ; but unwelcome, in that you want to take, not so much the treasurer, as the treasure of our church, to be pontiff over your own church.' Not finding him in the said city, the messengers proceeded to the vUlage of Calne, where he was discovered amidst his devotion to divine contem plation and the government of his flock. There his whole household were in a state of high glee, by reason of the joyful rumour which had already reached them. Hence one of his more confidential servants, unable to restrain himself for very glad ness, burst in upon him joyously, as he was study ing quietly in his room, and said ; ' See, Sire, here are messengers from the church of Canterbury, bringing us news of your own election by common consent to be archbishop of the said church,' for he thought he would receive something for his good news, as usually happens. Not only, however, were his hopes disappointed; but, being sharply admonished once and again to hold his tongue, he left the room, crestfallen. For the holy man, re garding what had been said as of no weight, paid no heed to it. And seeing, him coming out abashed, and looking so foolish, none of the others ventured to go in and speak of the same matter. And the messengers, observing all this, were not a little amazed that he did not rush out more promptly 152 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON to meet them. Indeed, we may very well beUeve that they were somewhat annoyed and ruffled at being offered such a cool hearing, or rather none at all, for such favourable news. " Where then are those ambitious men, thirsting for worldly honours, thrusting themselves forward un bidden ; by fair means or foul, plotting to force their way into the vineyard of the Lord of Hosts ; by law suits and wranglings, by promises and bribes, by intrigues and pretences, by all manner of snake-Uke ceilings, endeavouring to climb over the sheepfold, instead of entering by the door ? The ambitious man thrusts himself forward, and is driven back ; Edmund is sought out, and scarce deigns to come. But in the ordinary way, and at the ordinary time, he came out to them, neither more quickly nor more slowly than usual ; and having greeted the hew arrivals, they told him the object of their journey. The which, when he understood, with copious tears and deep-drawn sighs, he protested his unworthiness, annihUating himself to the foUowing effect. ' I am a worm, and no man ; neither as well deserving nor as well lettered as you believe : in this point the whole world is deceived, and you also are deluded and mistaken.' He then urged them, with entreaties, that they would give their votes to some one else ; nor could they prevail upon him to load himself with such a dignity. As, however, they per sisted in their original request, on the morrow they accompanied him to the Bishop of Salisbury, to HE IS ELECTED ARCHBISHOP 153 whom they retaUed and explained the whole matter tn order. He decided that he must acquiesce in the election ; and laid a command tn virtue of obedience on him to that effect, being induced thereto by a number of his canons and others of his friends. But the man stood firm in his resolution, nor would he yet by any means give his consent. So, the third day, they returned to the aforesaid village ; and the messengers strove their very best, by all kinds of aUegations, to wrest his consent from him. They declared that by refusing he would sin mortally; that he should be cautious how he irritated or offended God ; for, as they said, some one might be substituted in his stead through whom the church of Canterbury would suffer no small detriment. At length, overcome by thefr entreaties, or rather by reasonable conviction, he gave his consent ; which, however, he did not express in plain words ; ' For,' he said, ' He who knows all things knows that I would never consent to this election, were it not that I thought I should otherwise sin mortally.' Satisfied with this half-answer, they snatched up the words from his lips, and almost snatching up himself as well, led him to the holy altar, and together with him prostrated themselves humbly on the ground. They thundered out a Te Deum; they clashed the bells, and all rejoiced and exulted in the Creator's praise. Then was to be heard the mingled clamour of sorrow and joy; of singing and lamentation; whose discordant harmony and harmonious discord 154 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON rang again in the ears of the by-standers. Thus elected, he was approved by the king, decreed worthy of pontifical dignity by the ApostoUc See, conse crated by his suffragans, and adorned with the honour of the pallium." ^ ^Addit.lMS., f. 103. CHAPTER IX Canterbury Cathedral — Early Christian missionaries to Britain — St. Joseph of Arimathea — St. Augustine — St. Augustine's Monastery — The first Archbishops of Canterbury — St. Dunstan — St. jElfeah— Lanfranc — St. Anselm — St. 'Thomas — St. Edmund There is a charm in looking back to the beginning of any great work ; a subtle attraction which draws us again to the fixst efforts, the early plans, the seeming accidents, which were, at the time, only the passing events of the day ; but which led to magni ficent results, influencing for good the entire nation. And nothing so directly leads us back to thoughts of our forefathers, and to a remembrance of their generous labours, as the sight of one of our grand EngUsh cathedrals. A sense beyond appreciative admiration, a sense of reverence and awe, steals into our hearts as we enter the door and stand within the walls which were built by our CathoUc ancestors. It is not alone the beauty of the buUding that claims our thought ; but the devotion of the builders appeals to us, like a voice from afar, bidding us understand why such an home was reared, why such a gift was made. Our Catholic churches were built not merely 156 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON to be houses of prayer ; but they were to be homes where the Lord Christ would dwell, always present in the Blessed Sacrament, and where the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass would be continually offered. And men deemed that the buildings must be worthy of His Presence, and worthy of such holy Sacrifice. So, standing within the cathedral at Canterbury, our thoughts wander back to the first Christian missionaries who came to us from the Church at Rome. There are traditions of Christian mission aries visiting England before the great missionary saint came to us in 597. There are stories of an earUer Christian teaching, and of churches built for the Roman soldiers; and even that St. Joseph of Arimathea journeyed hither, and planted the white thorn of Glastonbury. There is the history of how " St. Philip approaching the country of the Franks for the sake of preaching, converted very many to the faith, and baptized them. Wishing, there fore, to spread abroad the word of Christ, he chose twelve of his disciples, and sent them to announce the word of life tn Britain, and to preach the Incar nation of Jesus Christ; and on each one he most devoutly extended his right hand : now over them he placed, as they say, his dearest friend, Joseph of Arimathea, who also buried the Lord. Coming therefore into Britain, in the year 63 from the Incarnation of the Lord, and 1 5 from the Assump tion of Blessed Mary, they preached faithfuUy the SAINT AUGUSTINE I 57 faith of Christ." ^ Such is the story, and outside the town of Glastonbury is the hill, still called "Wearyall HUl," where St. Joseph and the twelve companions of St. Philip, who had come to England with him, are said to have paused, and rested, all weary with their journey; and there St. Joseph stuck his dry hawthorn staff into the ground. The staff grew, and burst into white flower always at the season of Christ's Nativity. And, though the tree itself was partly cut down tn the time of Queen Elizabeth, and fipally destroyed during a later rebel- hon, branches of that first tree were saved, and are ,stUl growing in Glastonbury. We like to think that it is true ; but such stories are very dim, and fade away beside the reaUty of that other history, the story of St. Augustine's coming to Canterbury, and the foundation of the Catholic Hierarchy in England. In the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle we read that in 596 Pope Gregory " sent Augustine to Britain with a great many monks, who preached the Word of God to the nation of the Angles."^ And in 601 Pope Gregory " sent the paU to Archbishop Augustine in Britain, and a great many religious teachers to aid him, and among them was Paulinus the bishop, who afterwards converted Eadwine, King of the Northumbrians, to baptism." ^ This is the very simple account in the chronicle ; but Venerable Bede teUs us how St. Augustine and his followers 1 Hist. Olaston., i. p. 7. ^ A.-S, Chron,, p. 17. ' Ibid., p. 18. 158 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON were met by King Ethelbert outside Canterbury; how they carried a large sUver cross and a large picture of our Lord, and they sang litanies as they came. And the king received them ; and they remained at Canterbury, and taught the people. Then, outside the walls of Canterbury, St. Augustine built a monastery, because outside the town waUs could be the cemetery where he and his monks might be buried. And King Ethelbert gave his own palace in Canterbury to him, and on that site the church tn Canterbury was built. " St. Augus tine, a monk, by nationality a Roman, was the first Archbishop of Canterbury, sent with about forty companions by Blessed Pope Gregory to preach the Word of God to the English nation, in the year of our Lord 597. And by his preaching he converted to the faith of Christ Ethelbert, a most powerful king, the boundaries of whose power extended up to the river Humber. And Ethelbert, immediately after he had received the grace of baptism, from love for God, gave his palace and court to Blessed Augustine and the archbishops, his successors, and permitted them to hold it by a perpetual right, that he might have there an archbishop's seat for himseU and his successors."^ St. Augustine's monastery, outside Canterbury, became the school for learning, to which Pope Gregory sent beautiful manuscripts and Books of the Gospel; the school where the priests and monks learnt, and where they taught ' Ang. Sac, i. p. I. ARCHBISHOPS OF CANTERBURY I 59 the Saxon boys ; and there was the Christian burial ground. And the church in Canterbury became the cathedral church for the Primate of England. Very rude and simple must have been that first buUding: possibly it was buUt only of wood. In 754 "Canterbury was burnt ;"^ and in 851 Canter bury was taken by storm. There is a long list of the archbishops of those days. They were good and great men, and their names must not all be passed over in silence. Among them was Laurentius, who succeeded St. Augustine ; and MelUtus his successor. They were buried in the little graveyard outside Canterbury, where St. Augustine's grave was yet new. In 616 " Laurentius, who was in Kent after Augustine, died, on the IVth of the Nones of February, and was buried beside Augustine. After him Mellitus succeeded to the archbishopric, who had been Bishop of London, and within five years after, Mellitus died. Then after him, Justus suc ceeded to the archbishopric." ^ Justus was a Roman monk, " to whom Pope Boniface thus wrote : ' By the authority of Blessed Peter We confirm it, giving Our charge, that in the city of Canterbury for the future the Metropolitan seat of all Britain be held.' " ' The names are too many to follow ; but among them comes Wulfred, who received the pal- Uum from Pope Leo, in 804 ; and who journeyed to Rome in 8 1 2, and " with the blessing of Pope Leo " ^ A.-S. Chron., p. 42. ^ Ibid,, p. 19. ^ Ang, Sac, i. p. 2. l6o SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON returned to England; and Ceolnoth, who received the pallium from Pope Gregory, tn 831. Then we leave aside many names, till we come to St. Dunstan, the devoted monk, the scholar, musician, artist. Abbot of Glastonbury, friend and counseUor of king and princes, and the great promoter of learning. In 96 1 " died Oda, the good archbishop ; and St. Dunstan succeeded to the archbishopric." ' He received the pallium from Pope John, and was archbishop for twenty-seven years ; and then died, " and passed to his heavenly life." In loiQ the Danes were holding sway over East Anglia, and they harried and burned the towns and vUlages, and robbed and slew the people ; and " even into the wild fens they went." In 10 11 "between the Nativity of St. Mary and St. Michael's Mass, they besieged Canterbury and entered it, through treacherous wiles, for .^Ifmser betrayed it, whose life the Archbishop ^Elfeah had before saved. And they there took the archbishop .351feah, . . . and all the men in orders, and men and women, . . . and they went to their ships, and led the archbishop with them." ^ In the next year, on the octave of Easter, they murdered htm ; " they pelted him with bones and with the heads of oxen; and one of them then struck him on the head with an axe-iron, so that with the dint he sank down, and his holy blood feU on the earth, and his holy soul he sent forth to God's kingdom."' 1 A,-S, Chron,, p. 92. ^ Ibid., p. 117. ' Ibid., p. 118. ARCHBISHOPS OF CANTERBURY l6l It was in 1070, when Lanfranc, "the venerable father and comfort of monks," was archbishop, that the supremacy of Canterbury over York was estabUshed. Lanfranc journeyed to Rome, and Thomas of York with him, and he spoke in the presence of the Holy Father about the obedience of York to Canterbury, and " with strong discourses confirmed the same." Then they returned to Eng land ; and " after this, Thomas came to Canterbury, and all that the archbishop craved of him humbly fulfiUed, and then received the blessings." ^ Canterbury, the CathoUc Canterbury of medieval days, could point to an honourable lineage ; and to an aristocracy of saints and martyrs. The city ground had been trod by men whose names remain in the pages of our history, and the records of whose Uves are England's richest dower. The holy St. Anselm, known to us aU by his chUdlike con fidence in God, was a profound scholar, and also a poet ; a firm and courageous man, who Uved his own saintly life in the midst of evU sur roundings. His name, with its manifold associa tions of piety, learning, gentleness, and faithfulness, wUl always attract us. Saint, indeed ; and worthy successor of St. Augustine and St. Dunstan ! Another name rises in our memory: St. Thomas, both saint and martyr. He, too, with all the force of his spiritual authority, and with the wisdom and firmness with which he had been endowed, tried ' A.-S. Chron., p. 175. L 1 62 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON to resist the evils that threatened the Catholic Church in England. He, like the good Archbishop iElfeah, was willing to pour his life away, rather than let the rights, the dignities, and the privUeges of the Church suffer. The blood-stained stone in the cathedral at Canterbury still teUs the story of his martyrdom. And the magnificent shrine, with its steps worn away by pilgrims' feet, tells of the love and devotion of an entire nation to one who willingly gave his life rather than fail in his stewardship. And now another saint was to be added to the roll, to make the church of Canterbury yet more glorious. Stephen de Langton, Archbishop of Canterbury, died in 1228. Richard Grant, his successor, died in 1 23 1. From earliest days the monks of Canter bury had always elected the archbishop. The privUege of election was theirs by a special right. No suffragan bishop had any voice in the election. The monks assembled in chapter, and elected the archbishop; then the assent of the sovereign was asked ; and then the name of the newly-elected primate was sent to the Pope for his final approval Often the archbishop-elect had to go to Rome to satisfy the Holy Father as to his qualifications for the high and important duties which would devolve on him as Primate of England. So, " when Richard of Canterbury died, as has been related, the monks of Canterbury decided to ask for Ralph de NeviUe, THE pope's strict INQUIRIES 1 63 Bishop of Chichester, as their own prelate. He was the king's most faithful chanceUor, and an unshaken pUlar of the truth ; rendering justly and indifferently their own rights to each individual, and especially to each poor person." ^ But the Pope, we are told, caused a " diligent investigation " to be made by Master Simon de Langton, as to what kind of person Ralph de Neville was, and how far he was fitted for the dignity to which he was elected. The reply was, that "he was a courtier, and Uliterate, rapid and hasty in word ; and, what is worse, if he should be advanced to that dignity, wiUing to strive — the king being very anxious for it, and the whole realm helping him — to shake off England from beneath the yoke of the Lord Pope and the Roman Court." ^ So the election was not allowed ; and the monks of Canterbury were told to meet again, and make another choice of one who would be " a whole some shepherd of souls," and " useful to the English Church, and faithful and devoted to the Roman See." The monks then elected their own prior John of Sittingbourne. He was received, and accepted, by the king; and then "he set out for Rome, to obtain that the election, duly made, might be confirmed by the Apostolic See." ^ Prior John arrived in Rome during the octave of Pentecost, and at once presented his letters of election to the Holy Father. Then he was, for three days, carefuUy examined tn nineteen different articles; and his ' Matt. Paris, iii. p. 206. ' Ibid., p. 207. ' Ibid., p. 212. 1 64 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON examiners "protested before the Lord Pope that they had not found in him reason for lawful refusal. Yet it seemed good to the Lord Pope, tn his men tion of the candidate, to state that he was too old and simple, and unequal for so high a dignity. And when he had persuaded him to give way, the elected candidate humbly renounced the election made, and sought permission to return to his own country. Then the Pope, allowing permission to the monks, ordered them to choose another such, to whom he could communicate his burden, and entrust the pastoral care." ^ The monks of Canterbury were, however, less successful in their next choice. They elected John Blunt. He was at once accepted by the king ; and he then set out for Rome, taking certain monks with him, that he might secure the confirmation of his election. Master John Blunt was a clerk; he was, at the time of his election, reading theology at Oxford. He was probably a scholar of some repute ; but he had not the quaUfications which the Pope deemed indispensable in one who was to be Primate of England. " It was published abroad at Rome, that after his election he had received from the gift of Peter, Bishop of Winchester, a thousand sUver marks, besides another thousand marks which he had lent to this same John to secure his pro motion : thence it is quite clear that the friendship of the aforesaid bishop injured him more than ^ Matt. Paris, iii. p. 219. THE pope's STRICT INQUIRIES 165 benefitted him. . . . Besides this same John had confessed at Rome, it is said, that he had two bene fices, to which a care of souls was annexed, contrary to the decree of a general councU." ^ These facts were quite sufficient to make the Pope refuse to confirm the election. Capgrave, tn his Chronicle of England, gives a quaint, but very direct, account of these last two elections. He says, — " In the XVI zero of Herry felle a new contraversie at Caunttrbury : for summe chose the prioure of the Trinite Cherch, and summe chose Maystir Jon Blundy. Whan this eleccion cam to the Pope, he cassed it ; and than the prioure of the Trinite resined his ryte ; and the Pope refused Maister Jon Blundy, because the bischop of Wynchester wrot onto the emperoure for his promocioune. This cause was alleggid ageyn him, that he had too benefices, with cure of soule, withoute leve of the Cort. Then were the munkis at her lyberte to have a new eleccion: and thei chose Maistir Edmund Abyngdon, a holy man, whech was thanne tresorer of Salisbury." ^ The writer of the Cotton manuscript describes how the election was made. — " For it befitted the monas tery of Canterbury, to which of old it had been held that the right of election belongs, that such an one should be elected against whom no scruple of just contradiction could be found, and in whose case the attacks of aU detractors could be justly ' Matt. Paris, iii. p. 243. ^ Chron. of Eng., p. 153. l66 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON crushed. The grace of the Divine Spirit, therefore, being invoked, and devout prayer having been made, after weighing the virtues of many, whose qualifica tions, as is natural, the electors themselves carefully scrutinised by the balance of reason ; at length, God without doubt so wishing it, the opinion of all settled and decided on Master Edmund of Abingdon, a reader in theology. Then, therefore was sung the hymn of the Angels, the Te Deum Laudamus." ^ We have read how Edmund received the news of his election : " I am a worm, and no man ; neither as well deserving nor as well lettered as you believe," he said, in his humility. Yet he was the man who was welcomed by every one ; the one man in all England most fitted, by his learning, by his firmness and administrative power, and by his blameless life, for the responsibility and the dignity of the primacy. He must, like the other candidates, have presented himself, as archbishop- elect, to the king. But the king had no reason or wish to refuse his approval of the choice the monks had made. Edmund was already no stranger to the king. He had been one of those who were sent from Salisbury to ask for the royal licence to elect a new bishop, when Bishop Poor was trans lated to Durham. And, besides this, Edmund's busy work as treasurer at Salisbury, and his reputation as a great and convincing preacher, must have been known and much talked of at the court. There ' Cot. MS., f. 130. THE pope's sanction 1 67 appears to have been no hesitation in the king's mind as to the wisdom of the election. It is more than probable that Edmund's name as a scholar and theologian was also well known at Rome. It was but a few years before that "his great fame flew past the Alps to the city of Rome, and came to the ears of the Pope : " and then " the Apostolic Father, knowing his zeal :for the crusade, committed to him the Legation of the Cross." ^ And the fact remains that there is no record of any delay about the Pope's final sanction when the monks of Canter bury elected Edmund to be Archbishop. So, in the year 1234, "in the Church of Christ at Canter bury, was consecrated Edmund, elect of the same church, by Roger, Bishop of London, to be Arch bishop of Canterbury, on the Sunday on which is sung 'Rejoice, 0 Jerusalem,' which was then the fourth day before the nones of April, the king and thirteen bishops being present. And on the same day he solemnly celebrated Mass, with the pallium, which Simon of Leicester, monk of that church, had carefully brought him from the court of Rome." ' ^ See p. 125. ^ Matt. Paris, iii. p. 272. CHAPTER X Coronation of Henry HI. — His minority — Hubert de Burgh — Peter des Roches — Tallage of the clergy — Robert Bacon speaks against the Poitevin bishop — The bishops warn the king — Edmund speaks to the king in Parliament — The king relents, and dismisses his counsellors — Edmund is sent into Wales, to secure peace with Llewellyn To trace at all adequately the effect of Edmund's influence, or the strength of his purpose, without some passing notice of the troubles which surrounded him in his new position, would be an impossible task. Almost from the day of his election he had to fight against difficulties, and to face opposition; to recognise evil in high places, and oppose it with intrepidity and firmness. The misrule of Henry III. is the story of the king's reign, and the king's character. The cata logue of the endless quarrels in the chapter-house of the Canterbury monks is part of the history of the monastery, and the see of Canterbury. Here we need only speak of our Saint's life, and his influence for good in the midst of that " misrule " ; and his firmness and frankness by the side of those petty intrigues within the monastery walls; with just such notice of the history of the time as is necessary for the background of the narrative. i68 THE king's coronation 1 69 How terribly England had suffered under King John wUl never be fully reaUsed; never, perhaps, reaUy known. It is one of the darkest pages in our history ; the king himself casting the blackest shadow across it. But as rays of light fell through the windows of the abbey church at Gloucester, when the boy king, Henry IIL, was crowned with the simple circle of gold by the legate, Gualo, so a brightness, born of hope, radiated over England on that day. The young prince, with some knowledge of the dangers around and of the people's sufferings latent tn his mind, his father's sudden death and tragic death-bed repentance vivid in his memory, and a faint fear filling his boyish heart, must have trembled as the golden circle touched his brow. He had taken the usual oath, and had sworn fealty to the Holy Father ; and now the kingly mantle was wrapped around him, and all hearts tn all England were drawn to him tn hope of better times. The next day the king promised, by proclamation, a general and entire pardon for the past to all his subjects; and bound himself to grant them all lawful Uberties for the future. The tenants of the crown did homage; and, by royal command, during one month no one was to appear in public without a Uttle white band tied round the head in recogni tion of the young king's coronation. Then began the difficult years of the king's minority. The Earl of Pembroke, Earl Mareschal, had entire care of the royal boy, and was also guar- I70 saint EDMUND OF ABINGDON dian of the kingdom. At his death, Hubert de Burgh was made Justiciar, and was entrusted with the exercise of the royal authority ; whUe Peter des Roches, Bishop of Winchester, had charge of the young king. Both these men gained, as was in evitable, an undue influence. They were rivals, each striving for the greatest power. The Justiciar, by a wise and just administration, gained support from the people; while Peter des Roches was con tent with his stronger influence at the court. The king was a minor, with no real authority; but he had begun to depend on the popular Hubert de Burgh; and when Peter des Roches left England for the Holy Land, the king gave stiU more power and authority to the Justiciar. The king's con fidence was not entirely misplaced. Hubert de Burgh served both the king and the people with singular fidelity. He was a wise, just, and Uberal- minded man; and he might have continued in his high office for years, had not the jealousy of his rival, and the credulity of his sovereign, worked his downfall. One modern scholar, who could well weigh the questions, has written about the great Justiciar. — " The cause of his fall is to be found in the character of his royal master. Henry spent his life in pitiable alternations between blind confidence and almost ludicrous mistrust. De Burgh, Des Roches, Peter of Rivaulx, Segrave, Montfort, and many more, experienced the same treatment; the result, probably, not so much of caprice, in the TALLAGE OF THE CLERGY 17 I common sense of the word, as of a clinging weak ness of character, and a conscious inability to estimate the men by whom he was served. A suspicion which he was incapable of forming for himself unnerved his weak judgment when pre sented by another, and he fancied himself betrayed and undone, by the man to whom, but an hour before, he would have trusted everything." ^ About des Roches Uttle of good can be said. He was a courtier, not a patriot. He was avaricious, a lover of power, and worked chiefly for his own selfish purposes. Himself a Poitevin, he encouraged both Poitevins and Bretons to ask for English benefices and to seek appointments at the EngUsh court ; and he used his influence with the king to obtain promotion for his own foreign relations, until the barons rebelled against the ascendency of foreigners in England, and refused to meet them in councU. But the great grievance of those years was the " taUage of the clergy." Originally it was money demanded by the Pope for the expense of the crusades ; and all Christian countries had ac knowledged the claim, for aU agreed that the re covery of the holy places was a common cause to which they should contribute help. But the " taUage of the clergy " was continued for other wars, and for other objects. This taxation feU heavily on the Church tn England, and side by side 1 R, Eet., i. p. xxxi. 172 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON with it was the equally great, if not greater, griev ance, that EngUsh benefices were given to foreigners ; and frequently it happened that the foreigners paid sparingly English substitutes to fulfil the duties of the benefices, and Uved themselves on the larger portion of the incomes in their own countries. Thus the Church tn England was grievously im poverished, and poorly served, whUe her revenues were being carried out of the kingdom. Here is not the place to discuss the action of either Pope or king in this matter. England was Catholic, and yielded, tn all things spiritual, a ready and devoted obedience to the Holy Father. The king, a remembrance of his father's fate often present in his mind, greatly influenced by the Poit evin bishop, and seldom trusting his own judgment, saw the grievance ; but never tried to check it, or to represent it fairly to the Pope. The Pope, infal lible tn questions of Faith, but fallible tn ordinary matters, and things purely poUtic and not touching the Faith, was accustomed to regard all CathoUc countries alike, as parts only of the great CathoUc world over which he reigned : and he may have seen no wrong tn asking for a share of England's riches, or in providing for the needs of one country out of the apparent abundance of another. Some letters which we shall have to quote, show in what simplicity and good faith he acted. Henry was crowned in 1 216. In 1227 he caUed together a council at Oxford, and proclaimed that THE KINGS CHARACTER 1 73 he was of lawful age, and would himself manage the affairs of his kingdom. It is more than probable that he did try to govern the people well, and to pacify fehe different factions; but it was a difficult part to fulfil. There were wrongs in the Church, jealousy tn the State, conspiracy among the barons, discontent among the people. And the king, trained to depend on the coimsel of others, was aU too weak and irresolute to cope with the diffi culties and the intrigue that met him at every turn. He was by nature a peace-loving king; but he lacked the strength of purpose, and the firmness of will which would have brought peace and tran- quiUity to his subjects. Henry felt, indeed he must have seen most plainly, how his EngUsh people disUked the foreign influence at the court, and the ascendency of the Poitevins ; but he had not sufficient courage to free himseU' from those whose presence in his councils was as pernicious to the State as to the Church. Tired of tutelage, and weary of a national discon tent which he could not appease, he turned, with weak creduUty, from one adviser to another: but he never trusted his own judgment, and never reaUy tried to correct the evils which his people complained of. WeU might Edmund hesitate, and shrink from the responsibUity which hung around the see of Canterbury. The taxation of the clergy, the re venues of the Church misappUed, the foreign 174 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON influence, the discord between the barons, and distrust everywhere, made up a strange world into which he feared to venture. "You are mistaken" he had cried, in his almost pathetic appeal to the messengers who pressed htm to accept the arch bishopric. He had knowledge of England's great need, and the crying woes in the Church. It seemed to him that an archbishop was needed with a sterner nature than his, and a spirit less sensitive. Yet, in holy obedience to the word of his superior, perhaps from a sense of stUl higher obedience to the expressed wish of the supreme Pontiff, Edmund stepped out on to the troubled waters. And then, with his simple faith tn the Master in whose vineyard he laboured, he cast aside all fear for himself, and rose above even a suspicion of human respect, and so set his heart firmly to work for the good of the Church in England. To work that good he must speak fearlessly, whether to king or courtier, to baron or poor man. Already, in 1233, Robert Bacon, the Dominican friar who had been Edmund's friend from the days when they read and lectured in the schools at Oxford, was speaking plainly to the king about the Poitevin bishop. The barons were summoned by the king to meet at Oxford on June 24 ; but they refused to come, and the king was indignant at their refusal. Robert Bacon was appointed to preach the sermon at this parliament; and he said plainly that there never could be peace until the king THE BISHOPS WARN THE KING 175 had dismissed Peter des Roches and Peter de Rievaulx from his council. " ' Lord, my King,' he asked, " ' what is it that does most harm to those who sail beyond the seas, or what most alarms them ? ' Then replied the king, ' Those know whose lot is cast on the high seas.' Then rejoined the clerk, ' My Lord, let me say, Rocks and Cliffs.' As much as to say, Peter des Roches, for this was the surname of the Bishop of Winchester."-^ Some eight months later, in February 1234, Edmund and many of his suffragan bishops appealed most strongly to the king, urging him to dismiss from his councU those who were causing such grievous disaffection among his English subjects. And now we can see the great strength of Edmund's character. Hitherto he has been for us the dis tinguished scholar and theologian, and the eloquent preacher; but, supremely, the English Saint, with aU the Saint's attributes of charity, humility, and a Ufe of penance and good works. But he lived apart from others, he avoided all questions involving Utigation, and he always shrank from any public notice. He had dreaded the distractions of any questions which might lead to judicial dispute in the chapter at SaUsbury. He had feared to speak in opposition to others, lest in any word or thought charity should be marred. His aim had been to Uve in perfect peace with all men; to sink his wUl and his personal incUnation, rather than assert ' Matt. Paris, iii. p. 245. 176 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON his own wish or his own judgment. Yet, at once, as archbishop-elect, with the new responsibUities, and the care of all things spiritual resting upon htm, he never hesitated even for one hour, but came boldly before the king and his counsellors. It is not recorded that Edmund was the speaker on this occasion; but he was among those who spoke, showing by his presence, perhaps also by his words, what he felt, and what steps he intended to take. King Henry must have paused in astonishment as he Ustened to the impassioned words which rang through the councU chamber, for tn that speech he recognised the attitude of the primate. Here, indeed, was an unexpected force, a fresh strength, for England. Henry listened, and feared ; but to the Church, and the people, the longed-for help had come : there was promise of peace tn the words. The king was present in parUament on the Feast of the Purification, 1234. And "there was present also at this parliament Master Edmund, Archbishop- elect of Canterbury, with many suffragan bishops, who all, condoling the desolation of the king and of the kingdom, came to the king ; and, as if with one heart, mind, and voice, said, ' O Lord King, we tell you in the Lord, as faithful to you, that the counsel which you now have, and which you use, is not safe or secure, but cruel and dangerous to you and to the kingdom of England ; the counsel, namely, of Peter, Bishop of Winchester, of Peter de Rievaulx, THE BISHOPS WARN THE KING 1 77 and their accompUces. In the first place be cause they hold in hatred and despise the EngUsh people, calling them traitors, and causing aU to be so called, and turning away your mind from the love of your people; and our hearts, and those of your people, from you, which is evident in the case of the Mareschal, who is one of the best men in your land; whom, driving from you by lies disseminated, they have perverted. And by this same counsel, that is to say, by the aforesaid bishop, your father. King John, first lost the hearts of his people, then Normandy, afterwards other lands ; and at last exhausted his whole treasure, and almost the kingdom of England, and never afterwards had peace. By the same counsel in our times the king dom was disturbed, and the interdict came, and last of all the kingdom was made tributary, and the first of provinces was made, 0 the shame of it ! beneath tribute^ by the ignoble. And war being entered on and long waged for you, your father died, as it were an exUe, and not in peace either in his realm or in his mind, and so incurred through them a very dangerous death. By the same advice Bedford Castle was held out against you, where you lost much treasure and valiant men ; for which reason you lost Rochelle to the disgrace of your whole kingdom. Also, the disturbance now threat ening, dangerous to your whole realm, happened through their bad advice; for if the men of your ' Lam., i. v. i. M 178 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON kingdom had been treated with justice and right judgment, that disturbance would not have happened, and you would not have had your lands destroyed and your treasure exhausted. Also, we speak in good faith, because we are bound to you by oath, that your counsel is not to the peace, but to the disturbance of the realm ; because those who cannot do so in time of peace, wish to aggrandize them selves by the disturbance of the kingdom, and the disinheriting of others. Also, because they hold your castles and your strength in their hands, as if you ought to distrust your own people. Also, because they have your finance courts and guards, and much confiscated goods in their power, such an expectation pleases them ; and we believe you wUl approve the account they ultimately give. Also, because by your seal or order, without the seal of Peter de Rievaulx, scarcely any important business is done in the realm, as if they did not consider you king. Also, by the same advice, natural subjects of your kingdom have been driven from your court ; whence there is ground to fear both for you and the kingdom, since you seem rather tn their power, than they in yours, as is clear from very many examples. Also, because they have the Maid of Brittany ^ and your sister, in their power, and many other noble maids and marriageable women, with their ward- monies and dowers, which they give and squander amongst their friends. Also, because they confound 1 Alienor, daughter of Geoffrey, Count of Brittany. THE BISHOPS WARN THE KING 1 79 and pervert the law of the land — sworn, confirmed, and strengthened by excommunication — and justice as well : whence there is ground to fear lest they should be excommunicated, and you also, for taking part with them. Also, because they do not observe towards anyone, promise, faith, oath, or written document; nor do they fear excommunication. Whence those who have departed from the truth are desperate ; as those who abide in fear, distrustful. These things however we say to you faithfully, and before God and man we counsel, ask, and warn you, to move such advisers from you ; and as is the custom in other realms, to manage your kingdom by faithful and sworn men of that kingdom. For we denounce to you in truth, that unless within a short time you shall have corrected these things, we will proceed against you and other gainsayers by eccle siastical censure, waiting for nothing but the consecra tion of our venerable father-elect of Canterbury.' " And when these things had been thus said, the king humbly demanded a brief respite, saying that he could not so suddenly dismiss his counsellors, until he had heard an account of his treasure en trusted to them. And so the parliament was broken up ; aU departing with good hope of quickly obtaining agreement." ^ Thus Edmund made his first bold stand against the king's counsellors, and against the king's action in retaining them at his court. Edmund had ^ Matt. Paris, iii. pp. 268-271. l8o SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON gathered the bishops around him : he had told them plainly what course he meant to adopt; and he was among them when they spoke before the king. It was an earnest of what his work as arch bishop would be. His influence, in his Oxford days, had been so great that " often when he lectured, many of his scholars, great men, shut up their books because they could not restrain their tears." Once, as he lectured, seven of his hearers were so " inflamed with divine fire" that they renounced the world, and became monks. When William Longsword first saw Edmund, " on the very beholding of him, the brutal coarseness of his mind was at once softened and humanised." And this same holy influence was now felt by the king. Henry dared not try to resist it. Again the parliament met at Westminster, just one week after Edmund's consecration; and then he spoke, and the king replied. The earls and the barons were present, and the suffragan bishops. The newly consecrated archbishop then stood before the king, and spoke of the desolation of the kingdom, and the imminent danger ; and reminded the king of all the grievances that had been brought before him at the last parliament. " He also threatened the king expressly that, unless he dismissed his error quickly, and came to terms in a peaceful manner with the faithful of his realm, he forthwith, with aU the prelates who were present, would pass sentence of excommunication against the king himself, and THE KING RELENTS l8l against all other opponents of the peace and per- verters of concord. But the pious king, hearing the counsel of the prelates, humbly replied that he would obey their advice in all things. Whence, after a few days, understanding his own error, induced to do so by penitence, he commanded Peter of Win chester that, going to his bishopric, he should devote himself to the care of souls, and for the rest should by no means have part in tho royal councils. To Peter de Rievaulx, beneath whose control all Eng land lay, he ordered immediately that, restoring to him his castles, he should forthwith give an account of the treasure, and retire from the court, affirming with an oath that, if he had not been beneficed and admitted to the ranks of the clergy, he would have put out both his eyes. All the Poitevins, more over, expeUing them both from his court and from the guardianships of the castles, he sent back to their country, ordering them to see his face no more." ' This was the effect of Edmund's influence ; the singular force of his personality. His own abhor rence of injustice and tyranny, and his own great love for peace and justice, burned in every word he spoke ; and the king, always meaning to do well, listened, with a great sense of trust and reliance, to the new voice pleading before him. Edmund had taught the scholars of England ; he had preached to the multitudes in towns and villages ; he had drawn 1 Matt. Paris, iii. p. 272. 1 82 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON many listeners from the highway of pleasure and ease, and had led them to the strait gate and narrow road of penance and justice. And now, strong in faith, and eager to guard the rights of the Church and the people, he raised his voice before the king and his counsellors. The king was, for the time being, repentant ; and he sincerely desired to meet the wishes of his subjects, and to remove the causes of complaint. But it was the repentance of a timid man ; the sincerity of a weak monarch. If Henry could have been firm and courageous, he might, under the guidance, and with the support of his new primate, have rescued his kingdom from Poitevin and Breton influences, and freed the Church and the people from tallage and oppression. It was at this time that Richard, the Earl Mares chal, son of the great Earl of Pembroke who had been regent in the first years of Henry's minority, joined Llewellyn in Wales, and there the two were planning and augmenting the disaffection. The king, entirely yielding to Edmund's advice, was most anxious to make peace with the Mareschal and the Welsh prince ; and he felt that the sure way to gain his object was to send Edmund himself to negotiate with the two men. So, " the king, who by all means thirsted for peace, sent Edmund, Arch bishop of Canterbury, with the Bishops of Chester and Rochester, into Wales, to Llewellyn and Eichard Earl Mareschal, that they should treat with them for peace. And so the king, dismissing his unjust THE COUNSELLORS DISMISSED 1 83 counsellors, recalled to his allegiance the natural subjects of his realm ; submitting himself to the advice of the archbishop and bishops, by whom he hoped to restore his disturbed kingdom to a pros perous state." ^ ^ Matt. Paris, iii. p. 273. CHAPTER XI The death of the Earl Mareschal — The archbishop obtains a further truce for Llewellyn and his adherents — The parlia ment at Gloucester — The king's penitence — The meeting at Westminster — The archbishop secures pardon for the fallen counsellors — His interview with the king at Woodstock — Edmund's work as archbishop — His charity, humility, and industry It was Easter-time ; and King Henry decided to go to Gloucester, for he wished to meet the archbishop and bishops who were returning from Wales. But all pleasure in the anticipation of peaceful negotia tions was destroyed by the sad news which reached the king at Woodstock, where he rested for the night on his way to Gloucester. The Earl Mare schal, by some intrigue' of Peter des Roches, had been induced to cross over to Ireland ; and there he had been wounded tn some quarrel, and had died. The king was deeply grieved when he heard this. He was really attached to the mareschal, for his own sake, knowing him to be a courageous and honourable man; and also, we may well believe, from a lingering sense of gratitude for all that the old Earl of Pembroke, the mareschal's father, had done for England. The news of the mareschal's death came as a great shock to the king. And 184 THE MARESCHAL S DEATH 185 " forthwith, summoning the priests from his chapel, he caused the Office for the Dead to be solemnly sung for his soul ; and on the next day, when the solemn Mass was ended, he distributed large alms to the poor. And when the king, departing from thence, had come to Gloucester, there came to him there Edmund, Archbishop of Canterbury, and the bishops who had been sent with him to Llewellyn, declaring to him that they had treated with Llewellyn about a certain form of peace ; yet with the understanding that before aU things the noble men of the kingdom, who had been in league with Llewellyn, and who through base counsel were exiled from England, were to be reconciled to the king : that when this was duly carried out, the aforesaid agreement might be more fully confirmed." ^ Thus the archbishop was successfril in his mission to Wales. He obtained that a truce, which had been previously spoken of, should be continued for some months; and King Henry's letter confirming this truce is still extant. It runs, — " The King to all those whom these present letters shaU reach. Greeting. " Be it known to you that the truce made at Brockton on the Monday before Ash-Wednesday, in the eighteenth year of our reign, by the venerable fathers, Alexander, Bishop of Coventry, and Henry, Bishop of Rochester, and sent by the venerable Father Edmund, then Archbishop-elect of Canter- 1 Matt. Paris, iii. p. 289. 1 86 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON bury, but now Archbishop, and his fellow bishops, to Llewellyn, Prince of Abberfrau, and the Earl Mareschal, shall last until the feast of St. James in the same year, between us and ours on the one part ; and themselves, the prince, and the earl, their adherents, and their men, on the other ; we have granted this truce, and hold it good and ratified. And on our side we shall cause it to be faithfully kept, so that whatever anyone possesses, while the truce lasts, he possesses as the real owner : and tn the meantime let it be allowed on both sides, to go about, to work, to plough land, to sow, to do what ever is necessary for the cultivation and inhabiting of the land. . . ." And the letter ends — " So that if any contention shall arise about the possession of land or men, between us and ours on the one part, and the afore said prince, and earl, their men and adherents, let the strife be terminated according to the arbitration of the aforesaid persons who shall be chosen in the presence of the aforesaid archbishop, in the before- mentioned treaty, as aforesaid." ^ The king then called a parliament at Gloucester ; and Hubert de Burgh, William Basset, and the two brothers of the murdered mareschal, together with others, were present under the protection of the archbishop, who had procured a safe pass for them. Of the many important parliaments which were called for very special purposes during Henry's ' R. Let., i. p. 433. PARLIAMENT AT GLOUCESTER I 87 reign, this parliament was the most remarkable. One scene stands out clearly and vividly before us. We see the council chamber at Gloucester, the king, the bishops, and the counsellors, quite plainly. — We can picture the king, frightened and nervous, his countenance bearing traces of his deep sorrow for the mareschal's death, his manner diffident, his voice less steady than usual. A great calamity had fallen; and he feared how the news might have been received by the archbishop and bishops, and by the barons. At that parUament Henry was but twenty-eight years of age. He was in the full strength and vigour of his manhood ; he held the welfare and happiness of his people in his hands ; he was longing for peace, and anxious for the well-being of his subjects. Yet he stood there, weak, and vacillating; unable to pursue one firm policy, or to remain faithful to one sincere friend. Since his proclamation that he would himself govern the realm, he had held the reins of government with an all too slack hand. His counsellors had led him, and bent his judgment, and curbed his wUl to their purposes; and had gained to themselves his boasted strength, leaving to him only the vain regal grandeur and futile magnificence. But a new influence was now at work. St. Edmund feared no man : he loved justice and truth, and he meant to defend the Church, and to try to win peace everywhere. " Now in the same parliament, Edmund, Arch bishop of Canterbury, caused to be read aloud before 1 88 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON the king and the whole assembly of bishops, earls, and barons, who were present, a copy of the letters concerning the plot devised against Earl Richard, which had been sent by the counseUors of the king to the magnates of Ireland. Whereupon the king himself and aU the others, who heard them, were very sad, and were moved even to shed tears. But the king confessed in truth that, compelled by the Bishop of Wkichester and Peter de Rievaulx and his other counsellors, he had ordered his seal to be put to certain letters presented to him ; but he affirmed with an oath he never heard the purport of them. The archbishop, answering this, said, ' 0 King, exa mine your conscience ; for all those who procured that these letters should be sent, and were accom plices in this betrayal, are guilty of the death of the mareschal, as much as if they had kUled him with their own hands.' Then the king, taking counsel, caused to be cited by letters the Bishop of Win chester, Peter de Rievaulx, Stephen de Segrave, and Robert Passelew, to come on the feast of St. John, to render account of his treasures received and expended, and also his seal, which they had misused, without his knowledge. The king commanded that they should come to answer, and to submit to justice : but they, having their own hearts filled with suspicions, dreaded on the one hand the king, and on the other the brothers and friends of the mareschal, whose death it was alleged they had procured." ^ 1 Matt. Paris, iii. p. 292. THE KING AT WESTMINSTER 1 89 The counsellors, thus openly convicted of treachery, fled from the court, and hid themselves. But, again, Edmund intervened tn the cause of peace. He begged the king to see them; and it was arranged that they might appear before the king, and offer what expla nation they could, but they must come into the king's presence under the special protection of the arch bishop. The meeting was at Westminster, on July 14. It was only a few months since the parUament had met at Westminster, in which Edmund and the bishops had so earnestly appealed to the king to dis miss those same men from his council. There, at Westminster, again they met ; but it was a different scene. Now the king was angry and indignant. The counsellors, their self-seeking and intrigue made mani fest to the court and to the world, stood there only by Edmund's request, and under his protection. And Edmund, no longer feeling that he must warn the king or speak of the evil that his timidity and cre duUty might work, was present to strengthen and support the royal decisions ; and to protect, at the same time, the fallen favourites. It was a very signal victory : a most remarkable instance of Edmund's power and influence. In a few months since his election to the see of Canterbury, he had destroyed the counsel which was ruining England, and had made the king openly acknowledge his error. And, more, through Edmund's intervention there was peace tn the land. Peace with Llewellyn, and with his confederates ; and peace even with the 19° SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON dismissed counsellors. The interview between the king and Peter de Rievaulx was stormy and angry ; but it ended in the king handing him over to the care of the archbishop, who knew how to be firm with a fallen culprit, and how to show mercy when the strife was over. The feature which appeals to us most forcibly in these pacific negotiations is St. Edmund's firmness, and his intention that all reconciliations should be thorough and sincere. What was wrong must be rectified. Crimes must be brought home to people, and acknowledged. The king's counsellors, so justly unpopular with the people and so hurtful to the nation at large, must be dismissed. And yet, tn all these changes, involving loss and jealousy and rivalry, there was to be peace everywhere as far as he could ensure it. The mareschal had died, it was argued, fighting against the king ; or, at least, tn rebellion. Therefore, according to the strict letter of law, his property was confiscated, and his brother Gilbert could not inherit anything. Edmund knew that Gilbert was a good and just man ; and the law which, through the circumstances of his brother's death, deprived him of his inheritance was unjust. " Therefore he endeavoured, with even more than his accustomed diligence, to apply himself effectuaUy to deeds of benevolence, especially to such as con cerned the realm and the nobles ; and to conciUate and to bring back to peace and tranquillity those who were at variance, very shrewdly considering HE PLEADS WITH THE KING I9I that hatred and discord among the nobles result tn dangers to the people. When, therefore, the king showed a disinclination to transfer even the inherit ance of Richard, Earl Mareschal, who had been slain in Ireland, to Gilbert, to whom as next brother it feU, on the plea that Earl Richard had been deprived of his estates at the time of his death tn battle against the king, the archbishop, who loved Gilbert for his truly amiable disposition, sympathised with him in his trouble — for his heart was ever filled with pity for the afflicted — -and went straightway to the king, then at his royal manor-house at Woodstock. The king rose with due reverence and civility to receive him with the kiss of peace, and said, ' Welcome, Father. What is the cause of your coming hither, and of your distress ? ' The archbishop answered, ' A great matter, my Lord. Even the salvation of your soul, and the prosperity and welfare of this realm.' Then, making the vfrtue of benevolence the foundation of his discourse, and expounding it with refinement and rhetorical skill ; with hands clasped, and tears in his eyes, he with the greatest devotion besought the king on behalf of the said Gilbert, that one brother might not pay the penalty for, or be burdened with, the crime of the other, nor the fault of the guilty be cast upon the innocent. And, adducing in support of this, together with other arguments, the opinions of the theologians, with which he was well acquainted, he made sup- pUcation to the king, with great power, begging and 192 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON urging him not only to remove all UI feeling from his mind, but even to crown his favour by granting the whole inheritance together with the official dignity. Moved by the affection displayed, the king, with a most kindly expression on his coun tenance, answered, ' 0 good Archbishop, great weight and something more than human of grace and power are in thy prayers, which have unexpectedly recalled me from the determined anger I had conceived, to clemency and good will.' And, not to give in the vernacular the actual words spoken by the benevo lent king, but in a better known tongue, he said with a gentle smile, ' How beautifuUy thou canst pray ! Pray in Uke manner to God for me, and I doubt not that He, who is more merciful than I, will graciously hear thee. However, I have now granted thy request. Be it as thou wilt.' Then, summoning Gilbert, the king ceased altogether from his anger, and restored to him his inheritance with all its honours." ^ Among the Royal Letters is one granting pardon to Gilbert, and one granting pardon to Hubert de Burgh, also one with pardon for Richard Siward. These letters are dated May 26, 1234. They were, therefore, written before the meeting at Westminster on July 14. We must not think that all St. Edmund's atten tion was devoted to matters concerning the king and the realm. Even had it been so, his work as primate would have been good, and of great value. But, 1 Cot. MS., f. I3i'>. HIS WORK AS, ARCHBISHOP 1 93 besides his public life, and his service for the king, he was attending to his more immediate duties, the care of his suffragans, his clergy, and the laity, as weU as the temporalities that belonged to the see of Canterbury. Side by side with his public life, his attendance at parliaments and councils, his visits to the king, and his missions to rebels, was that other life of other duties, which he never neglected. In 1234 Ealph de Maidstone was made Bishop of Hereford, and was consecrated by Edmund. In 123s Eobert Grosseteste was elected to the see of Lincoln, and he was consecrated by Edmund, who at the same time consecrated Hugh, Bishop of St. Asaph. A great dispute arose between the Canter bury monks and St. Edmund about the consecration of Eobert Grosseteste. The monks maintained that all the suffragans of the Canterbury province should be consecrated at Canterbury. They held a charter which granted this privUege, and they were not inclined to yield the point. The archbishop re fused to hold the consecration at Canterbury. This dispute was the beginning of a long array of quarrels between the archbishop and the Canterbury monks. In questions of this kind, all mere conjecture on our part is unsafe and unsatisfactory. Yet one reason for St. Edmund's firm refusal to consecrate the new bishop at Canterbury suggests itself rather forcibly. There may have been, among the evils that had crept into the Church, some system of fees and offerings at a consecration which would enrich the N 194 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON monastery. Edmund would have regarded all such gifts as bribery, or simony, tending to corrupt elec tions ; and had he even only a suspicion of it, he would have done all in his power to make it impossible. This is but a suggestion, to account for the very decided action of the archbishop. He absolutely refused what the monks claimed. He gave no reason ; but simply arranged for the conse cration to be at Reading. There was no indecision tn Edmund's character, no wavering, no playing with questions. Some strong motive urged him, some plain question of right or wrong, and he acted at once with quiet promptitude. Some of the stories about our Saint's life when he was archbishop show how he recoiled even from the thought of accepting money or gifts, which were, it would appear, not uncustomary offerings to the clergy and prelates. And other stories prove his grand in difference to the offerings which were his by right of law, or by a long-acknowledged custom. And, as if to account for his extreme watchfulness over himself in such matters, he would argue that there was only the difference of one letter het^feen prendre andpendre. When some valuable plate, gold and silver, was sent to him, he refused to receive it. And when pressed to accept one very precious jewel, he replied that he had one ring, he could not need a second; and he added that the gift was no more to him than the dust under his feet. When two bed-covers, probably of costly material, or richly embroidered, were sent HE REFUSES TO ACCEPT GIFTS 1 95 to him, one for his brother and one for himself, his words to his brother were plainer stUl. " Your con science," he said, " may be satisfied ; but mine is not. I will refuse it, for I trust rather to my book than to you." ^ A gold pyx was offered to him for his chapel. Surely such a gift, for his Lord and for the altar, he would accept ? But still he refused. " The enemy would fain tempt me with gifts now when I am rich and lack nothing, because when I was poor he could not deceive me in that fashion," Edmund said. And then he strictly charged all those who were making visitations in his province not to accept any offerings, but only their food.^ One other anecdote must be here related, for it is singularly characteristic of the Saint. — "When, on the death of their husbands, needy widows would come to him begging his pity, for that, according to the local custom, the baUiff had taken the best ox, or whatever animal it might be, the widow had ; he would say, ' My good woman, it is the law of the land that on the death of thy husband, thy lord should have the best head of cattle that thy husband had.' Then, turning to the others, and speaking in Latin or in French, he would say, ' In truth, this is the law of an enemy tn war. A captive woman has lost her husband, and thereupon she is to be deprived of the best of her possessions! This is a bad business.' Then he would turn to the woman, and say, ' Woman; 1 Ball. CoU. MS., f. 58''. 2 See Addit. MS., ff. 105I', 106. Ball. CoU. MS., f. 58t>. 196 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON if I lend you this beast of yours, will you take good care of it for me ? ' And upon her saying ' Yes,' he would order the animal to be given back to her." ^ Yet, on the other hand, Edmund was careful that the actual property of his see should be protected from ruin and waste; for that was not his in any personal sense, but part of the Church revenue, to be preserved and used for God's greater glory. In the first few months after his consecration he was, as we have seen, fuUy engaged with the king's affairs and the questions of peace. And yet " That same year of his archiepiscopate the demesnes which, through the dishonesty of certain persons, had been aUowed to lie barren and fallow, were ploughed and sown ; ^ and the stock renewed : — an incredible sum of money having been borrowed from the king, and from others." ' To understand the weight of responsibUity and the burden of work which devolved upon the Pri mate of England, we must pause, and remember all that a CathoUc archbishop, in Catholic England, undertook. And we must understand the deep filial love and confidence of the Catholic people; their reverence, and the profound respect they would accord to thefr chief pastor. The archbishop was, under the Holy Father, the head of the Church in England. He held the keys of the heavenly treasure-house ; his voice was supreme in counsel, 1 BaU. CoU. MS., f. 58. ' "Tremisio seminata." ^ Annales Dun., -p. 136. HIS AUTHORITY 197 or rebuke, in pardon, or in excommunication. And where real authority and great power exist, there must, of necessity, be proportionate grandeur, honour, and ceremony, as the expression of the fidelity and love of a believing people. The Catholic archbishops of Canterbury were surrounded, in their daily life, with as much state, and service, and conventional ceremony, as any prince of the land. The relations between the crown and the mitre were closer and stronger than we — our experience limited now to Protestant usage in Protestant England — can clearly realise. Temporal power was vested in the kingly authority ; but many are the instances which tell of the royal power overpowered by the quiet tones of the primate, the royal voice silenced, the royal will subdued, by that higher authority which was recog nised alike by king and people. St. Dunstan, St. Hugh, St. Anselm, and St. Thomas, are names which remind us of how the Church, through her chief pastors, has often strictly warned, wisely counselled, and most sternly rebuked kings and princes. And we have heard how St. Edmund, tn the early days of his archiepiscopate, openly exposed the treachery of the king's favourites, and proved the king guilty of participation in thefr crimes. To any man, in such a position, and with such authority, there was great danger of pride and self-seeking. Edmund knew the temptation, and saw the danger. The old Lives tell such simple stories of his unprecedented acts of humility that, almost, some among us might smile 198 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON in reading them. But those who love the Saint, and value the detailed account of his life, for his own sake, and as evidence of the sincerity and devotion of his biographers, would rather have the anecdotes at the risk of the cynical smile, than lose these little glimpses of his hidden life. — "But, before all things, he kept himself in such humility that his episcopal dignity in no way injured his soul by any sort of vanity, and that he rather feared for the pontifical honour than was proud of being honoured as a pontiff. And even as this humility held the first place in his heart, so also was it foremost in all his works. For he was tn no wise ashamed at times to take off his shoes for himself, which in the Primate of all England was no small or obscure sign of lowliness. And when ever his clerks were prevented from hearing Mass, through being occupied at the time in some necessary employment, he himself would say Mass for them later in the morning. If anyone, how poor soever, wanted to make a confession to him tn the course of his journey, he would dismount at once to hear him; and would, after the confession, be most affable and obliging. Nor would he put off such an one because the weather happened to be unseasonable, or the next shelter very near at hand. And just in the same way would he act when young people sought confirmation at his hands. And, in the abundance of his exceeding humUity, he would sometimes carry his crozier from the chapel to his chamber or study. HIS HUMILITY AND INDUSTRY 1 99 with his own hands. Nor did he go clad tn purple or fine linen or costly vesture, as some bishops do ; but wore a tunicle, white or gray, of some rather cheap stuff. However, his outer garments were seemly enough, not from any desire of show, but that in appearance he might be like other bishops." ^ In another manuscript we find a charming picture of the archbishop's industry. — " Impatient of ease and idleness, the Blessed Edmund kept himself occupied at all times, whether in prayer, or medi tation, or in revising books, or in hearing confessions, or in solving the questions discussed amongst the brethren, or in deciding such disagreements as might arise ; so that at no time might the enemy of our race find him resting from good works, or at leisure. And if anyone would remonstrate with him for work ing too hard, he would answer by quoting the wise saymg, ' Now to thy books, and now to prayer, Anon to holy toil repair. So shall the hours speed quickly past. And labour's load feel light at last.' " ^ ' Addit. MS., f. 104. 2 Cot. MS., f. 133. CHAPTER XII Letter from Pope Gregory IX. — The king marries Alienor of Provence — The queen crowned at Westminster — The royal banquet — William of Valence — Council at Merton Abbey — Foreign influence — Parliament at Winchester — Parliament at Westminster — The king needs money — The archbishop agrees to grant a thirtieth— The king confirms Magna Charta — The legate — The archbishop and the monks — The legate visits Canterbury, and speaks to the monks — The archbishop's Provincial Constitutions The archbishop was not to enjoy peace and quiet for long. More troubles met him, and new difficul ties arose ; and before the elapse of very many months we find him surrounded with lawsuits and troubles arising from an open quarrel with the monks of Canterbury, and from the foreign influ ence creeping again into the royal coimcUs. Very soon after Edmimd's consecration he received a letter from the Holy Father, which claims our attention. The letter shows, better than any words of ours, in what spirit the Pope regarded the pre sence of foreigners in England, and the demand for English benefices. Looking back, we can judge how difficult — how impossible — it must have been for the Pope, amid all the various reports and petitions that reached him, to discern clearly what the real THE POPES LETTER 20I grievance was. His letter shows, not only his good intentions, but also his desfre for peace ; and it reveals something of the misrepresentations that had been made to him. The letter was addressed to the archbishop, and runs, — " It belongs to your Pastoral Office that you, after the pattern of the True Shepherd, should be a sort of corner-stone, joining together the frirthest ends, and making one, things set apart. Therefore it is seemly and expedient that you should embrace together tn Christ all who dwell in the realm of England, whether those born there, or others of any nation whatsoever ; and that you should, by earnest and anxious persuasions, move them all to mutual charity, that as they aU look for protection to one and the same prince, so they should be as one people through the bonds of love and unanimity. It seems it wiU be also needful and useful for you to admonish more particularly and urge the born subjects of the realm aforesaid, that they take it not UI, if the aliens who dwell tn their midst should there attain to certain honours and benefices, since before God there is no accepting of persons, but all who work righteousness, of what nation soever, are accepted of Him. " It will also be for your honour to cherish with spfritual love and good wiU all in the same kingdom, whencesoever they be, whom you may know by their deeds to be zealous for the honour of our most beloved son in Christ, the Ulustrious King of the 202 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON English ; and that you encourage them more dUi gently to loyal fidelity and devotion. " We also exhort your fraternity, by Our Apos toUc Letters which We send to you, that, in these and other matters, you take care to bear yourself in such sort, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left, that the fragrance of your good repute which has been wafted hither to the ApostoUc See may be tested tn effect, and that We, beholding the worthy fruits of your sincerity, may rejoice to have foimd in reality what We had conceived in hope ; — We who, ardently desirous for the tranquiUity of the king himself and of his kingdom, have re solved to be keenly watchful against those who may be convicted of fault in the points above mentioned. " Given at the Lateran, April 3, " Eighth year of Our Pontificate." 1 Edmund, as Primate of the Catholic Church tn England, felt deeply for the harm that was being done ; and he grieved because of the burdens that were being laid upon her. His work was to protect and strengthen the Church in England ; and also to uphold the papal authority, and to teach and mani fest reverence for the king. And we never find Edmund speaking against the demands of the Pope, or showing any want of respect to the king. In all matters where it was a question of help for the Holy ' R. Let., i. p. 556. THE ROYAL WEDDING 203 Father, or obedience to his wishes, or reverence for the See of Rome, Edmund never hesitated : his faith and obedience never failed. Let us glance at the events of the years 1236 and 1237. In January Henry married Alienor, daughter of the Count of Provence. The princess landed at Dover, and was met at Canterbury by the king ; and there, at Canterbury, on January 14, they were married by the archbishop. There is no very full account of the royal wedding, although it was a most solemn service, with much attendant cere mony and grandeur, and witnessed by the highest people of the realm. The young queen was crowned at Westminster, on January 20, and the chronicler seems to have reserved his eloquence for the descrip tion of the reception of the queen in London, the coro nation, and the royal banquet. There assembled in London, for the coronation, such an host of people, nobUity, and clergy, that the city could scarcely contain them. The city was decorated with banners, and flags, and wreaths; and was Uluminated with candles and lamps : while the streets were made clean from all dfrt and rubbish. The people of London, in gorgeous attire, went to meet the king and queen. Those who went to Westminster, to perform the duties of butler to the king, were dressed in silk, and wore cloaks of cloth of gold, and they rode on magnificent horses. We are told that they carried with them three hundred and sixty 204 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON cups of gold or silver ; and they were preceded by the royal trumpeters. The sword of St. Edward was carried by the Earl of Chester; and the Earl of Pembroke bore the wand before the king, and cleared the way, in the church and in the hall. The Wardens of the Cinque Ports carried a canopy over the king ; and the Earl of Leicester held a basin that he might wash before dining. The Earl of Warrenne was royal cupbearer; Michael Belet was butler; the Earl of Hereford was mareschal, and WUliam Beauchamp was almoner. The dishes on the king's right hand were arranged by the justiciars of the forests ; whUe the citizens of London handed wine, in costly cups, to every one. Last, but by no means least, the bishops were present ; and the abbots, with the Abbot of St. Albans at thefr head ; and a large number of clergy and knights. It was a magni ficent assembly ; and the banquet was almost un rivaled in its splendour and extravagance. And there, in the midst, might be seen one quiet and unobtrusive figmre, the saintly Archbishop of Canterbury. He was there to crown the young bride Queen of England. He was there as the head of the Church in England, the spfritual father of the realm. Edmund's hands placed the crown on the bride's head, and his voice blessed the king and queen ; and he was present also at the corona tion banquet. Strange to him must have appeared all the magnificent and costly dresses ; stranger stUl the luxurious and extravagant feasting, and the display THE CORONATION BANQUET 20S of wealth. Edmund, with his shfrt of hair invisible under his episcopal dress, his firm will scarce re cognised beneath his gentle manner and simple bearing, yet his habitual spfrit of prayer and pen ance manifesting itseK in his calm face, was present at the feast as one tn a dream. His thoughts were sUent prayers for the young girl just beginning her married life. Alienor was as a chUd in years, and a stranger among them all, yet entering that difficult world of new duties, and holy obligations to the English people. Edmund had fears, also, for the people ; and his heart was fuU as it could hold of love for the Church, and eagerness to remove the evils which overshadowed England. Perhaps even on that day, with its sacred services, and royal banquet ing, while the splendid display dazzled his eyes, and sounds of rejoicing and revefry were heard on every side, some faint foreboding was whispered to him of a coming danger. Perhaps, for a moment, the veil was lifted, and he saw the coming strife. For among those who accompanied the young queen to England was her uncle WUUam, the Bishop-elect of Valence, and with htm were many other Provencals. Three days after the coronation Henry was at Merton Abbey, holding a grand council of the realm, and granting new laws to the people. The chronicler tells us that " in the same days, King Henry III., for the health of his soul and the weU-being of his king dom, led by the spirit of justice and piety, passed certain new laws; and when they were passed. 2o6 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON ordered them to be inviolably kept throughout his realm." ^ William of Provence soon won a way into the king's favour; and was admitted to the royal councils. The barons objected; but thefr objec tions were silenced by the king granting a like privilege to three more of their number. On April 28, in the same year, the king called the " magnates " of England to London, to meet in parUament. They were to come together, osten sibly, " to treat of the business of the realm." And they came, in obedience to the summons. "Now many wondered that the king followed too much, and more than was fitting, the Bishop-elect of Valence; as it seemed to them, despising the natural subjects of his own country. Being angry at this, and accusing the king of fickleness, they said one to another, ' Why does not the bishop-elect betake himself to the kingdom of France, since the King of France married the eldest sister of our queen, that he may manage the business of the realm of France; his niece being queen there as well as here ? ' And they were very angry." ^ The discontent grew rapidly. The foreign influ ence at the court was stronger than before ; and Edmund's words availed nothing. In June, 1236, " Peter de Rievaulx and Stephen de Segrave, of whom we have made mention above, were received into the favour of the king. At the same time 1 Matt. Paris, iii. p. 341. ^ Ibid., p. 362. PARLIAMENT AT WESTMINSTER 207 there were gathered together at Winchester the magnates of England, in the presence of the king, on the 8 th of June. There the king tried, by a letter from the Lord Pope, to set at naught what he had agreed with some before his marriage, just as if he were powerless without the consent of the Lord Pope, to whom, as he said, he looked to settle the rights of the realm. Whence he moved many to astonishment ; many saying that the king tried, more than was right or fit, to submit his kingdom to slavery, and to hand it over to others on the worst terms." ^ At Michaelmas, tn that year, Peter des Roches re turned to England, from " lands beyond the sea ; " but he came back weak in bodily strength, and infirm. The king kept Christmas at Winchester ; and while there he sent out through all England royal writs, begging the archbishops, bishops, abbots, priors, earls and barons, to come to London, to treat about royal business and questions of great import ance. This parliament met on January 13, 1237. When all were assembled in the large councU hall at Westminster, WiUiam de Raleigh, a clerk in the king's i^household, a man learned in law, rose and said, " Our lord the king desires you, that, what ever he has done up to now, from now and hence forward he will submit himself without wavering to the advice of you all, as faithful subjects of the realm. However, those who hitherto have been 1 Matt. Paris, iii. p. 368. 2o8 SAINT EDMUND OP ABINGDON the guardians of his treasure, treating it as their own, have not given a faithful account of aU the money they have received. Now, therefore, our lord the , king, altogether destitute of money, with out which any king is forlorn, tn a supphant manner asks of you the help of money; that is to say, that the money be collected by your consent, according to the arrangement of some of you chosen for this purpose, and be reserved to be expended on the necessary needs of the kingdom." ^ This demand, which was unexpected, was received by all present with grave suspicion. The parliament objected to the demand for money ; and gave strong reasons why it should be refused. But the king promised, under oath, never again to vex the nobles of the kingdom, if they would now grant him aid. The members of the parUament consulted together, and it was agreed, after the archbishop had given his consent, that a thfrtieth should be granted ; but on certain conditions. The conditions were, mainly, that Henry should reject the counsel of foreigners, and turn for advice to his own natural and faithful subjects. The king, tn addition, wishing to please the people, and also fearing that he had broken his solemn promises, undertook to confirm the charters, and again pledge his word that he would keep them. The arch bishop regained some influence. WUliam of Prov ence left England ; and the king, with an oath, ^ Matt. Paris, iii. p. 380. CARDINAL OTHO 209 dictated to him by the archbishop, promised in a most solemn manner to observe faithfully the great charter. Thus once more did Edmund secure peace for the good of the English people. But the old grievances still existed. Foreigners were still sup plied with English benefices ; and foreigners were constantly at the English court. This, the greatest difficulty that Edmund had to contend with, was a real grief to him. For nearly three years, while striving to reform the evil, he had indeed acted in that spfrit of charity which the Pope's letter had so strongly enjoined. And, in time, his strength of pur pose, and his earnest pleadings, might have secured the wished-for peace. But a new difficulty arose. — The king wrote to the Pope, asking that a legate might be sent to reside in England. The legate sent was Cardinal Otho, an as^te man, and a great diplomatist. He came with all the authority of a papal legate : his decisions were superior to the archbishop's, and he could overrule the archbishop's sentences. Here, it would seem, were two rival powers. But the spirit of rivalry had no place tn the economy of Edmund's Ufe. The legate was a good man, and faithful to what he conceived to be his duty. Edmund was childlike in his simpUcity and charity; but firm, beyond all yielding, in his determination to rid the Church of evil and abuse, and to secure peace. The legate also desired peace; but he wished to gain material help for the Pope's needs, which, o 2 10 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON in consequence of the quarrel with the Emperor Frederic, were very great. The legate's aim was to induce Henry to assist the Pope in his temporal difficulties, and to secure all the pecuniary aid he could from the English clergy and laity. And this at a time when Edmund's work was to stop the continual drain on the revenues of the Church, and to check the rise of foreign influence at the English court. Edmund's thoughts and aims were insular, for the good of the Roman Catholic Church in England, and for the peace of the English people. Yet he was always ready to promote sympathy for the Holy Father, who was then tn real want of substantial aid. We cannot judge these questions tn detaU; but only on the broad evidences suppUed by contem porary authorities. The Pope was harassed and menaced by Frederic IL, and was in sore need of money to enable him to protect the See of Rome. The Archbishop of Canterbury, the King of England, the clergy, and the barons, were aU ready to acknow ledge that to help the cause of the Church was a primary duty. But those Uving in Rome knew Uttle of the harm that fell upon England through the tallage of the clergy and the evU system of " provi sions " ; and foreigners could Uttle guess how un welcome to the English people thefr presence at the court was, nor how thefr counsel tended to the ruin of the kingdom. When Edmund heard that the king had, on his own authority, asked for a legate to be sent to England, he rebuked him for acting in THE DISPUTE WITH THE MONKS 2 1 I such a manner. Yet when on June 29, 1237, the legate arrived in England, Edmund and the clergy went to meet him, and they received him with all due reverence and friendUness. But it was impossible for opposing claims and interests to work together. The archbishop's autho rity was overruled by the legate : and the king himself ceased to be guided by the primate who had, more than once, saved him in his dfre need, and established peace where enmity had reigned. It was some earnest desfre to reform the discipline in the monastery at Canterbury that led to the long and tedious disputes between the archbishop and the monks of his own Cathedral at Canterbury. The archbishop claimed certain rights and privileges; and the monks resisted the claims. The manuscript Lives of the Saint give no detaUs of this quarrel : and we hardly need any. It is against possibility and credence that Edmund should have claimed for himself personaUy any dues, or offerings, or rights over churches or manors, or control and ordering of the monastery offices. But it is plain to anyone who has foUowed his Ufe thus far, that he would claim with great insistence any rights which were legally his, and which, tn other hands, had become occasions of sin and opportunities of abuse. And we readily believe that he would have demanded any dues and privileges which were being perverted from thefr just purposes. The dispute with the monks, which originated in 212 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON some question of the archbishop's authority to make certain alterations, grew to a deep and bitter quarrel.^ The story is of a long and tedious string of disputed rights : it shows the monks tn open rebellion to the archbishop's commands, ignoring his censures, ap pealing against him tn law courts, and carrying thefr angry accusations to Rome. Yet not all the Canterbury monks opposed the archbishop : there were some who stood by him, and refused to side with their brethren. And the story reveals to us what Edmund's action was. He wished for certain reforms. He held that he could correct abuses out of chapter. He claimed that he could consecrate bishops in his province wherever was most con venient, and not always at Canterbury. He claimed a right to reform what was amiss tn the discipline of the monastery. But reform was no welcome word. The monks resisted ; and fell back upon their rights and privileges, probably vague customs which had become rules; and, in one instance, a forged charter played a conspicuous part. There was indeed room for the work of the reformer. The monks had no love for the grand simpUcity of a strict religious rule ; and no appreciation of the firm hand which would have pruned and trained thefr community, till their house grew again to be what that great " Father of all monks " had wished his monasteries to be. If the story of this tangled ' For full particulars of the quarrel see Life of St. Edmund of Canterbury, by Dom Wilfrid Wallace. THE DISPUTE WITH THE MONKS 213 controversy points to the archbishop sometimes exacting more than worldly prudence would have suggested, or expecting a submission more entfre than the ordinary obedience known to the monks, it also points to his great forbearance and patience. We never find one angry word spoken ; never an angry letter written. Edmund's self-restraint was sorely tried ; but it never failed him. He urged quietly; he advised, rebuked, censured, always in the same patient tone. He deputed his chancellor, Richard, to answer the monks when messages came to him, if the interview seemed likely to provoke wrath. He let his brother Robert speak for him, when angry or impatient monks sought an audience. They wished him to attend their chapter by himself, but he refused ; and he gave his reason : — he would not meet them alone, but only with clerics present who would testify to all he might say, or be induced to say. On this point he yielded ; for we find him agreeing to attend the chapter with only one of his clerics ; or even alone, provided he might consult with his advisers before his decisions were considered final. The writer of the Balliol manuscript relates how " the archbishop, together with certain of his suf fragans, with all humility besought, with all fidelity counselled, and with aU gentleness frequently ex horted the king, to maintain for him the rights of his church, and to restore to him the lawful rights of which he was unjustly deprived. But the more 2 14 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON humble the Saint, under God's guidance, showed himself tn the prosecution of his claim, the more eager became his opponents, at the adversary's insti gation, to do wrong to the innocent, especially on behalf of the authority of our lord the Pope, on which they presumed very much ; and, had not divine miracles wrought against their malice, they might have proved more cruel than the Jews who crucified Christ. What patience he exhibited in such great adversity may be shown by one out of many instances. When sometimes his friends lamented his misfortunes, he reproved them, saying, ' As when a bitter draught is given to a sick chUd, his mother bids him drink for his health's sake, so do I desire to drink, for my eternal salvation, the cup of these many evils now set before me ; and the floods of the sea I suck as milk.' He showed the greatest compassion even to those who were bitterly attacking him, when they asked for pardon ; and even admitted those, whom he most certainly knew to be his persecutors, to the kiss of peace, and other signs of friendship. He even seemed to prefer the grievous wrongs done him to the pleasing deference of his friends. When his followers reproved him on this account, saying, ' Master, in this way thou givest to others an example against thyself ; ' he answered, ' Peace, ye know not what ye say. Know ye not that the Lord pardoned those who slew Him ? To God, and not to man, belongs vengeance. God for bid that I should hate them. Yea, even should any HE SPEAKS TO THE KING 21 5 one pull out my eye, or cut off both my arms, still would I love and not hate him ; for my desire is to commit no sin.' " ^ And in the next chapter of the Balliol manuscript we see Edmund " warning " the king. This shows that in some way, not explained in the narrative, the king was supporting the monks. It may have been merely a negative support. It may have been only that he did not enforce their submission to the archbishop, or oblige them to yield thefr assumed claims, but aUowed them to appeal in law courts. This chapter also speaks of those " who had un justly seized and disturbed the rights and liberties of the church of Canterbury " ; showing plainly that Edmund was endeavouring to win back certain rights which he beUeved belonged to his church. — " At length he called together a council of his suffragans and other discreet men, and begged them to advise him what to do ; how he may withstand the rising power of his adversaries, how raise the Church from the depths of a grievous servitude, and bring her into the freedom of the glory of the sons of God. His fellow-bishops, after deliberating on these and other matters, advised that he should first warn the king and the opponents ; and afterwards, if this prove of no avaU, he should proceed to the severity of ecclesiastical discipline. Acting upon this advice, and accompanied by these his advisers, the Saint approached the king in the character of 1 BaU. CoU. MS., f. 59»'. 2l6 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON adviser. The king listened to what was laid before him, and promised to take counsel thereon. Long and patiently the man of patience waited ; untU at last, filled with compassion for his church in her great loss, and further, seeing that he could accom plish nothing, and that the matter was evaded and prolonged by delays intended to bring it to nought, he took the matter into his own hands. Ca.Uing together the company of the faithful, he, in great anxiety, laid his case before them aU ; and — deferring in all to the king as supreme ruler, and excepting his person from the ban — he, by reason of the shamelessness of the stubborn and the intolerable wrongs they had done, pronounced a general sentence of excommunication on all who had unjustly seized and disturbed the rights and liberties of the church of Canterbury, and a special sentence on some whose ill-doing was legally proved. He hoped by such severity to restrain those whom neither a loving ad monition, nor the fear of God, had withdrawn from evil, and to bring back their hearts to penitence by blows from the hammer of the Word of God. But the hard hearts of the sons of men, like a smith's anvil, are sometimes made hard and solid by that which ought to make them soft and yielding." ^ The legate endeavoured to promote peace between the archbishop and the monks ; and his words tell what his judgment of the quarrel was, and to which side his conscience led him. Yet the legate, in 1 Ball. CoU. MS., f. S9t>, THE QUARREL WITH THE MONKS 217 other matters, was never Edmund's champion, and seldom upheld or confirmed his policy. In this dispute with the monks the archbishop could have had no shadow of doubt about the rights for which he contended. It was no personal quarrel. The archbishop was, as God's steward, defending what he felt to be sacred possessions : if they still existed, he must safeguard them ; if they had been lost, he must reclaim them. " But the general enemy of mankind, seeing that such a man would be of the very greatest service to the Church of God, was filled with malice ; and that he might prevent him from continuing at peace with the king, chose out many of the chief men to stir up discord, and by their aid sowed the accursed seed of hatred in the hearts of the king and his counsellors. Moreover, the monks of Canterbury, over whom — as being of the bosom of his church — he held especial authority, zealous for justice, with a zeal not tempered by know ledge, made constant demand for the restoration of certain liberties which, though they had been, as they asserted, especially appropriated to the monastery, had been seized by men appointed thereto by the archbishop. When, too, the archbishop claimed as thefr father and head that these liberties apper tained to him ; and that, as family matters, they ought to be certified to be within his jurisdiction, the monks contradicted him to his face, and brought continual suits against him, that so they might prevent him from attempting any fresh innovations, 2l8 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON to thefr prejudice, on the ancient and approved customs of the Church. They beUeved with all confidence and certainty that these liberties be longed especially to them, and brought forward charters and ordinances to support their claim. Among these documents was one which they as serted had been obtained by the diligence of Blessed Thomas the Martyr. This aroused suspicion by its strange appearance ; and as it was seen to have been tampered with, was, by the advice of some of the monks, burned on that account. This gave rise to no small dissension in the monastery. How ever, Cardinal Otho, Legate of the Holy See, being at that time in England, came to Canterbury for the purpose of putting an end to the injuries and shameful tumult and discord which the quarrel had caused. For the scandal to which the affair had given rise had been spread abroad throughout the surrounding country, and had become noisome. The legate then attended the monk's chapter, and, after making diligent inqufry, addressed them thus. ' My most dear brethren, venerable monks of this most noble metropolitan church, which has not its superior, nay, nor its equal, in the land, weak are ye, and not joined together in the bonds of unity. Humble yourselves before the power of the Mighty. Let the body be governed by the head. Obey your pastor and father, the most holy archbishop, and let this pestUence be stamped out before it grows greater, and your good name be branded with an THE QUARREL WITH THE MONKS 219 indeUble mark of ignominy.' Some of the monks, moved by this exhortation, gave a ready assent. When, therefore, not many days after, the arch bishop returned and entered the chapter, he found there division and a difference of opinion ; for whUe some were willing to humble themselves and submit, others — in the belief that such submission would inflict grievous injury on the church— refused, and continued their appeal to law. By reason of this dissension the Lord's flock was scattered abroad. Many finaUy left the monastery, choosing to enter the Carthusian or some other order, that they might pass in peace the remainder of thefr days. However, some of the more important among the monks, aided by thefr secular friends, persisted in the revolt, accusing the archbishop not merely of disturbing the church and monastery, but of being their declared enemy, and of most improperly treating with over weening insolence the very men who, contrary to the re quest of the king and of many others, had rejected the noblest in the land tn order to raise him from, a most lowly estate to the summit of the highest dignity." ^ When we remember all the details of Edmund's election to the see of Canterbury, and his unwilling ness to accept the offered promotion, this taunt alone is sufficient for the condemnation of the monks. The grievances at the court, and the quarrels tn chapter, though both must have been painful dis tractions for a man of Edmund's sensitive tempera- 1 Cot. MS., f. iz&. 220 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON ment, did not hinder the more immediate work of his life. It was tn 1236 that Edmund published his Provincial Constitutions.^ These Constitutions are especially valuable, for they show in what points reform was needed, and in what special matters the archbishop was anxious to introduce new laws, or to strengthen the existing ones. They need not be given here at any length ; but one or two items, proving the extreme care that our Saint had for all things connected with the Sacraments, and for even the youngest souls in his province, wUl interest many among us. He ordered that the Font, and the Holy OUs, should be always kept securely locked up ; and that anything tn the church, or connected with the church services, having been blessed by a bishop, must never be again turned to profane or secular use. He ordered that those who would venture to receive the Holy Communion with the excommuni cated, should be shut out from the Church. There are instructions and directions for priests, about hearing confessions ; and about giving Communion ; and about carrying the Holy Viaticum to people who were ill. And the archbishop remembered the '^Uttle children ; for he warns mothers to be careful of their infants at night ; and, by day, not to leave children alone in an house where there is fire ; nor near any water. The Uttle ones were to be con firmed early. Parents were not to wait for the bishop's visit, but were to seek him ; and to have ^ Given in Wilkin's ConsUia, i. p. 635. PROVINCIAL CONSTITUTIONS 22 1 ready the white bands for the chUdren's heads, which were worn by the newly-confirmed for three days. And there are decrees against what appear to have been the greater sins and relaxations that had grown up in the Church. Honest and God fearing men were appointed in every deanery to proclaim and denounce all the public faults of the prelates and the clergy. Very plainly do these rules and regulations speak to us of the things that were nearest to the Saint's heart. In them we see his earnest desire for the perfecting of the Church, the reform of all that had grown lax, the strengthening of aU the weak points, either tn Church discipline and rule, or in the every day life of the laity. The archbishop could turn from the intrigues at court, and the disagreements in his chapter, and pour his soul out in prayer for his people; and spend his time in weighing their difficulties, ascertaining thefr needs, and giving them rules. His love for souls, for his Master's sake, was ever the strong love of his heart. As the manu scripts tell us, " The man of steadfast mind was not crushed. His constant prayer to God was that He would preserve the rights of His Church, and would give to each one his own, if such should be His wiU," ^ and in the same narrative we read that " Like a candle set on a tall candlestick, and thus exposed to winds and blown about by tempests, he suffered very many blasts ; yet lost nothing of his brightness 1 Ball. CoU. MS., f. 59. 222 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON or fire. Desiring, as God's athlete, to devote himself entfrely, as his predecessors had done, to the salva tion of souls and to the liberties of the churches, he suffered opposition from the king himself, and from the mighty in the realm ; and even the chapter of Canterbury, which had caUed him to so great an height of honour, opposed him in his undertaking. He was content to defend the rights of his church." ' 1 BaU. Coll. MS., f. 58b. CHAPTER XIII The archbishop endeavours to establish jieaoe in the monasterj' — He visits Rome — The monks break their agreement — The archbishop returns to England — Simon de Montfort — The archbishop decides to leave England An important chapter tn the Cotton manuscript tells how " the archbishop, in pity, yields in much to the wishes of his monks." Weary of the ceaseless war fare about rights and privileges, Edmund made one last effort to obtain peace. He determined to yield to the monks every point in the controversy that did not prejudice the rights of his church. Every personal right and dignity he would forego ; but the privUeges of his church he must maintain. Edmund, the Primate of England, learned in theology and law, "armed with dialectic, and likewise equipped with eloquence," could have met the monks, and won a victory by his truthful arguments, his gift of rhetoric, and his eloquent pleading. But that victory would have left the spfrit of rebellion still rife tn the monastery, ready to break out again at any moment, on any new quibble that might arise. Edmund, the Saint, learning of One who was meek and lowly of heart, hoped by an entfre renunciation of his own personal demands to estabUsh a more 2 24 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON thorough and lasting peace between himself and the monks of his cathedral chapter. He decided to attend the chapter, and to propose a compromise. The compromise was successfully arranged ; but the work of peace was again frustrated by the monks. The account given in the manuscript is — " The archbishop then, in no smaU grief at the disturbance in his convent and church, heaved deep sighs and was distressed even unto bitterness of spfrit. And so, to avert the threatening scandal, he one day entered the chapter with all humUity, and there skilfully checked the disorder with a barrier of reason and moderation. This he did that he might not seem unmindful of the benefits conferred on him by the monks; for he feared greatly to give them any grounds for charging him with ingratitude. For which reason he yielded so much to their wishes that every dispute was settled; and peace, to the joy of all, honourably restored. The monks, collectively and individuaUy, gave a glad assent thereto, rendering thanks to God and to the archbishop on this account. In order, there fore, to get this compact confirmed by apostoUc authority, and also to procure the final settlement of another controversy which had arisen in the time of Bishop Roger, of pious memory, between the church of Canterbury and the cathedral church of London, and of certain other vexed questions concern ing his church and office, the archbishop announced that he intended journeying to Rome, and with aU AT ROME 225 possible speed arranged all necessary matters, and proceeded across the Alps. And, behold ! on the very day of his arrival, he found there certain of the monks of Canterbury who, relying on the deceit ful promises of their lawyers, had hurried thither before him with indecent haste ; and unexpectedly, to the great amazement of the archbishop and his friends, made wanton appeal against the peace which he proposed to get happily ratified. When, in great distress thereat, he pleaded that this would be an affront to himself, an injury to his church, and a scandal, the lawyers, who seek nought but reward and payment, instigated the monks to contradict him to his face. To whom, in deep scorn at the foolish simplicity of the monks, he said, ' There is no peace to the wicked, saith the Lord.' To be brief; the monks continued obstinate, and persisted in following the counsels of thefr hfred advisers ; and, at length, the archbishop pronounced sen tence of excommunication against all who dis turbed the peace. Thereafter the disagreement between him and each of his adversaries grew daily greater." ^ The manuscripts tell us nothing of how Edmund spent his time while in Rome ; but we can picture to ourselves what his daily life must have been. We know how worn he was with anxieties, and the cares of his church and province. We have seen something of what his faith was, his keen realisation 1 Cot. MS., t 139b. p 226 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON of all that his Lord and Master had borne for him, and his readiness to follow tn that Master's footsteps. And the vision rises before us of how, and with what deep love and reverence, he visited the sacred shrines and altars ; and how, prostrate on the ground where martyrs had gladly poured thefr lives away, he left the burden of his cares with the saints. But there is no record of his devotion ; there is no account of how he lingered near the tombs of the apostles and martyrs. Yet we, knowing him, can see it all very clearly. And we understand with what great confi dence and filial love he would approach the Holy Father, the successor of St. Peter, whose proudest title has ever been that he is " the servant of the servants of God." The writers of St. Edmund's life have let a great silence faU upon aU this. It may have been their want of knowledge; or that he led so simple a life, like that of some poor pUgrim, that the tale apparently was nothing to tell. The two slight incidents which are recorded point only to the quietness and devotion of Edmund's life while he was in Rome.— The Pope sent for him late one evening; and Edmund obeyed the summons, but expressed sur prise at the lateness of the hour for the interview, and explained that he was wont to keep silence from the time of compline to prime. The Pope, smUtng, answered, " You would know weU how to be a monk." Edmund replied that he wished indeed to be free from aU his cares that he might become a religious ; DIFFICULTIES INCREASE 227 and he added, " O ! good is the peaceful life of a monk." 1 The other story describes how Edmund declined to be present at a banquet given by the Pope to all the prelates then tn Rome. And, it so happened, by avoiding the feast he was spared the horror of wit nessing an assassination.^ The next chapter in the Cotton manuscript relates how " the archbishop's adversaries multiply on every side." It was a very hard struggle, and Edmund began to realise that his cherished projects of reform could not be carried against such powerful opposition. He had, we must always remember, the few chosen friends who clung to him, who would fight with him against the corruption and laxity in the Church; and who would support him when he denounced avarice, and luxury, and misrule. His chanceUor, Richard, afterwards Bishop of Chichester; his brother Robert ; his friends of long years, and the men who had known and loved him at Oxford and at Salis bury; and the learned and zealous Robert Grosseteste, Bishop of Lincoln. But what were they when ar rayed against the king and the court ? And they were equally powerless when misrepresentations at Rome made the Pope hesitate, and refer Edmund to arbitrators in England; for the questions were not questions of faith or doctrine, and so did not rest on a final word from the supreme Pontiff. And, in 1 Cot. MS., f. 133b. 2 BaU. CoU. MS., f. 59. 228 SAINT EDMUND OP ABINGDON England, foreigners were busy at work for their own interests ; the Papal legate was seeking the king's favour, and labouring for material help for the needs of the Church at Rome. The legate, a man little able to appreciate the archbishop's holiness or his high integrity, was limiting Edmund's power, repeal ing his sentences, and making light his word and authority. While the Canterbury monks, in the background of all this, were clamouring for thefr supposed rights. It has been said that if Edmund had been a stronger and more determined man, he might have won the contest and remained in England. Yet surely his was a wise policy. He yielded the lesser points in order to gain the more essential ones. And only when at last he reaUsed that he could no longer stand against the many difficulties which met him on every side, did he begin to think of resigning his archbishopric, and leaving England. His position was simply this. The Canterbmry monks refused to submit to his authority. The king, though he un doubtedly beUeved in the archbishop's judgment and wisdom, and had real esteem and affection for him, was too weak and vacillating to openly take his part or to support his measures. The legate, who must have acknowledged the archbishop's singleness of purpose and the holy zeal that animated his actions, was very far off from appreciating his saintly character or his stern sense of right. Besides, the legate had his own aims and purposes to pursue. DIFFICULTIES INCREASE 229 and his schemes clashed with Edmund's work of reform in England. At Rome, where Edmund naturaUy looked for support and protection, he found indeed no opposition to his proposals and plans ; but the Canterbury monks, in spite of their promises and protests, were at Rome before him, and had told their garbled story of the controversy. Thus, when it seemed to Edmund that his efforts to gain peace would be successful, he met with new disappointment. So, following the chapter in the Cotton manuscript, we read that " Over and above all those who professed them selves the sons of his church, there arose against him, bringing great and troublesome suits, Roger, Bishop of London ; Hugo, Earl of Arundel ; Hubert, the justiciar ; and Simon, Earl of Leicester. These attacks, which were supported by specious arguments, he withstood with great trouble, and at no small cost. Together with these, who were men of great weight, others of lesser account raised their heel against him. At length he held a secret conference on these matters with our Lord the Pope, who bade him go before judges in England and refer these suits to them for judgment. Afterwards, when at the command of the king the suffragans assembled to provide a remedy for the evil state of the Church, a quarrel arose between the king and the Church which, fostered by the devil, grew day by day more bitter. Many days were set apart for the restoration of peace, but the strife was so greatly increased by 2 30 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON him who had kindled it that, after some obstructive postponements, they departed without having come to any agreement. Then the archbishop, raising himself fearlessly to confront them, and placing himself as a wall before the House of Israel, on the renewal of the persecution and the multipUcation of the injuries, by the advice of his suffragans, pro nounced a repeated, renewed, and enlarged sentence of excommunication against those who were disturb ing the peace of the Church. Moreover, the man of God, founded upon the rock which is Christ, stood firm. Neither could flatteries persuade nor threats terrify him into a cowardly turning aside from the pursuit of justice. Now Otho, the legate, desfring to find favour with the king, when he saw that his heart was wholly set against the archbishop, whose enemies were increasing on every side, was eager to please the multitude. Using, therefore, his authority, he made null and void what the archbishop had done, absolving those whom he had excom municated by name, and binding in the bonds of excommunication or suspension those to whom he should at any time grant absolution. In a word, he decreed and held all his acts as of no effect. . . . Furthermore, the Earl of Leicester was aUowed to retain his wife in peace, notwithstanding that the archbishop had made our Lord the Pope fully ac quainted with the truth concerning the vow which she had solemnly made in his presence. In other cases, also, even to the complete loss of his wealth. SIMON DE MONTFORT 23 I was he pitiably harassed, condemned, and oppressed on every side." ^ The biographers of our Saint relate these facts with wonderful curtness and simplicity. It makes us see how the Saint, and his life, his piety, prudence, wisdom, and strength, were the only things they cared to write about. The passing events of the day, the political quarrels, the struggle for con stitutional independence that was manifesting itself throughout the entfre country, are only mentioned so far as they form any background for the Saint's life. We must look to the chroniclers for the history of events which are thus only vaguely mentioned. And so we leave our manuscripts, and turn again to the chronicles, those lasting evidences of the industry of medieval monks, for all that we need to know about Simon, Earl of Leicester. He was the fourth son of Simon, Count de Mont fort. From his Ulustrious father he inherited a name most honourable; and also the estates of his grandmother, Amicia, one of the daughters of Robert, Earl of Leicester.^ Of his father we know much : his near and true friendship with St. Dominic, his Christian chivafry, his heroism, his magnanimity. He is described as tall in stature, and finely made ; his countenance had a special beauty, his manner was gracious to all, and many are the anecdotes of that singular courage and fidelity which made his ' Cot. MS., f. 140. ^ Died in 1190. 232 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON death, in 1218, a grand ensample to all Christian warriors. It would be hard to think that the son of such a man inherited nothing of his father's zeal and courage. As we think of the father, so we picture the son, — tall, handsome, with a gracious bearing, clever, cheer ful, with a courtly manner, and bright talk. And, in later years, much of the father's spfrit of deep piety and love for the Faith seemed to shine forth again in the son's life of devotion and penance. Simon, being a foreigner, was at first favourably received at the English court. He won the king's friendship; and he made himself popular with the people. Indeed, he stands almost conspicuously alone in the history of those days as the one man who was at times a favourite with the king, at times able to win and retain the admfration and confidence of the people. Yet it is difficult to judge how far he was sincere either in his friendship to Henry, or in his support of the popular cause. Ambition always dominated his motives; and he must have seen the brUliant prospect that lay open before him through his marriage with Alienor, the king's sister. Alienor had married, in 1224, William Mareschal, Earl of Pembroke, son of the good and wise Earl of Pembroke who had been guardian of the king dom during Henry's minority. In 1231 William Mareschal died, and Alienor was left a widow. COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE 233 EasUy can we trace in outline what then probably happened. Alienor, in her first years of grief and loneliness, was helped and consoled by the pious counsels of Edmund, who was then treasurer of SaUsbury. Some strong friendship may have existed between Ela, the widowed Countess of Salisbury, and AUenor, the widowed Countess of Pembroke. It would, were it so, account for the latter turning in her widowhood away from the world, and attempt ing to live the higher life of one in the world, but not of it. The Countess Ela had found peace and consolation in a life of obedience and self-renunciation in the cloister ; and she probably felt that she owed much to the wise direction and holy influence of Edmund. And to Edmund, in the presence of Richard, his chancellor. Alienor made her vow of chastity, promising to renounce the world, and to consecrate her life to Christ. That she made this vow was generally known. She lived the strict life of a religious, even wearing the habit of undyed cloth which was worn by those who had so con secrated themselves to God. The Church received her vow, and regarded it as binding unto death : whUe the people of England all knew of it, and recognised it as a solemn and sacred obligation. It was no passing play with words. The fact that Edmund received her promise is sufficient proof that it was not lightly made. Then there came upon the scene Simon de Mont fort, the new favourite at court ; and Alienor's resolve 234 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON proved weak, and her vow became to her as nothing. According to more than one chronicler Henry was anxious that Simon should marry Alienor. One reason assigned was that Simon had already induced her to commit sin, and the king desfred the marriage in atonement ; the other reason being that the king at that time had no heir, and he wished Simon to marry Alienor in the hope that a son might be born to them who would succeed to the throne. But Alienor's vow of chastity had been recognised by the Church, and by the people. And Simon de Montfort was not yet the popular hero who could induce her to destroy such a covenant, and yet retain his position in the country. While the archbishop was away in Rome they were married, in a royal chapel, by a royal chaplain, the king giving the bride away.^ Immediately the indignation of the nobles and barons was aroused. They objected to the marriage; and they were aggrieved because they had not been consulted; whUe the people did not hesitate to show that they resented it. Simon de Montfort was alarmed at the ill-feeling he had awakened, and he hastened to Rome, to try to obtain a papal dispensation for his marriage. *Alienor's vow had been made to the Church, and the Church only could release her from it. But at Rome Edmund was already pleading that there was no real reason why the vow should be dispensed. He stated the simple facts, as he ^ Matt. Paris, iii. p. 471. THE KINGS ANGER 235 saw them. Then Simon de Montfort turned against the archbishop, and took his stand among those who were Edmund's avowed enemies. It is not necessary to follow this quarrel tn all its detaUs. Simon was successful, and obtained the dispensation he sought ; and he then returned to England. Early in 1239 he was created Earl of Leicester ; but the king's favour was not to last for long. Before six months had passed, in an outburst of anger and indignation, Henry himself accused Earl Simon of the crimes imputed to him by report, and forbade his presence at the court. The king then added that his consent to the mar riage had been forced, in order to hide his sister's shame. Shortly afterwards the earl and countess left England, and Uved abroad. This is all of this complicated story that we need know in order to understand the archbishop's position, and his grief at the public scandal. He was so surrounded by disappointments that each new trial was Uke a last burden, too heavy to bear. He came back to England crushed in spfrit, misjudged, and aU his hopes broken. It was then that the world began to scoff at him. For, " this change of the right hand of the Most High the wicked en deavoured to blacken with malicious interpretations. The archbishop's saintliness of life they ascribed to superstition; his zeal for justice, to cruelty; his affability they confidently maintained was mere scurrilous buffoonery; his care for the welfare of 236 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON the Church was attributed to avarice ; his contempt of the world's favour was falsely called pursuit of vain glory; the magnificence of his state, pride; that he followed tn much the divinely-taught wiU was regarded as proof of an haughty spirit. In fact, he could now do or say nothing upon which malice did not fix a sinister interpretation. Although , he was moved, and rightly moved and offended, at many things, this it was which caused him in secret the greatest grief. When the time arrived for the baptism of the son and heir of our lord the King of England, the legate forced himself into this matter, and was chosen to perform the ceremony. Though only in deacon's orders, of alien race, in ferior in character, and with no great knowledge of theology, he was yet preferred to the Archbishop of Canterbury, Primate of all England, who is allowed by all to have been a priest, of English bfrth, re nowned for high character, yea, even for great saintliness, and a most famous teacher and instructor in many kinds of knowledge. He was indeed present while the legate conducted the chief office ; and the Bishop of Carlisle performed the ceremony of im mersion. Nevertheless, permission was granted him to administer the rite of confirmation to the baptized child. This affront caused him to be held of no account, and to be thought by all worthless and contemptible. What other course then remained to him than to abandon everything ? " ^ 1 Cot. MS., f. 141. HIS GREAT TROUBLES 237 That he did not baptize the infant prince " caused him in secret the greatest grief of all," says the writer of this manuscript. And thereby we gain a glimpse of how great the slight was intended to be, and how the people recognised it as an entire putting aside of the archbishop's position, and raising the legate to the highest dignity. It was scarcely in Edmund's nature to feel the sUght. He had afready had sharp experience of the reverses of human favour. He had borne patiently all the insubordination of his monks, and the contempt they had heaped upon him. He had been doubted at Rome ; and ignored by the king. Yet this last act may well have been a great grief to him ; for it was a certain evidence to himself, and to all England, that the king's friendship was turned away, and henceforth the royal influence would not be for the cause of justice. So, " what other course then remained to him than to abandon everything ? " Edmund was learning, in those last days, the hardest of all lessons ; — that he must still have faith and confidence, even when every one failed him, even when evil counsels prevaUed everywhere. The personal sUght was nothing to him ; but the hope lessness of the struggle overpowered him. Alone, in his chapel it may have been, he faced his posi tion, and fought the question out ; and he saw that he could not remain in England to be forced into wrong action, compelled to countenance evil, his 238 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON hands tied when he would do good, and his voice sUenced when he would denounce sin. He decided to leave the country ; and, feeling weak in body and weary in spirit, his thoughts turned to the abbey at Pontigny, where the holy St. Thomas had sojourned and found shelter and peace. And now the scenes and incidents of those last sad weeks in England crowd in upon our thoughts ; all the told and the untold details of those last busy days. There must have been the sorrowful farewells, and the yet more sorrowful memories ; and the re collection of all that he had tried to do, and of how all had failed, despite his unceasing toil and earnest desire. One night when he was praying that he might be guided to do only what was best, he heard a voice say clearly, " Believe what is written round thy small seal, and follow him whose martyrdom is therein depicted." ^ And Edmund gazed on his seal, and saw, as he had seen an hundred times before, the martyrdom of St. Thomas, and he read the words "Edmundum doceat mors mea, ne timeat." ^ Now the words were as a dfrect com mand. He left his prayers, and prepared to re linquish his office rather than yield any point where the honour and freedom of the Church was impUcated. Once more he went to the king, to tell him of his resolve, and to say a last farewell ; a last word of warning also, we may well believe. '¦ Cot. MS., £. 141b. ^ Let my death teach Edmund not to be afraid. HE LEAVES CANTERBURY 239 Then, weeping, he bade good-bye, and said, " Never wUl you see my face again." ^ It was a bitter moment for both. But Edmund gained strength at each onward step ; while the king could only tremble in his weakness, and shudder in realising the consequences of his indecision. Then there was the hurried gathering together of some few things ; his seal, and some treasured relics he wished to take away with him. The manuscripts give no detaUs of our Saint's last hours at Canterbury ; and, indeed, we hardly need any. A picture rises in our thoughts very clearly ; a picture of how, for the last time, with an almost breaking heart, he passed through his cathedral church, for whose weU'are he had endured so much, for whose sake he was going into banishment. It was a moment of awe and grief ; for the tempter whispered that he was for saking his charge, and that if only he would yield to the counsel of others he could stay and work for England yet. In those moments of agony, when he felt almost like a traitor to his Lord, the memory of St. Thomas and some thought of the crowns and palms of martyrs filled his heart and soul. Perhaps as his glance fell upon the blood stained stones, and he remembered how the great martyr had fallen there and yielded up his life, a new courage grew in his heart. For the last time Edmund could stand there, in the cathedral which had become so dear to him, and feel that he was ^ Hist. Angl,, ii. p. 435. 240 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON leaving all ; and he could kneel down once more before the High Altar, and there deliver back to his Master the charge which he had so faithfuUy striven to fulfil. And once more he must pass through the rooms of his house ; hurriedly, for his departing was to be quick. Silently, with set purpose and uplifted heart, he passed through the room where he had slept and prayed; the dining hall, where he had entertained his friends, and where he had denied himself as he piled up delicacies on dishes for the poor ; the large hall, where his people had thronged to speak with him, to ask alms, or to seek advice ; and his study, where so many quiet hours and so many weary hours had been spent. There must have been a quick glance everywhere, an earnest aspiration in his heart and on his lips, as he braced his soul and made his purpose strong. Quietly, with but few words of parting, and no outward sign of grief, he left all. His brother Robert was with him ; his chancellor, Richard, would not consent to be left in England ; and one or two others clung to him, and refused to let him go away alone. But we are told very little of all this ; only that he was ill, and worn, yet cheerful and tranquil, and that he left England almost clandestinely. There is no doubt that at the last Edmund con tinually turned in thought to his martyred prede cessor. The recollection of that martyrdom was ST. THOMAS SPEAKS TO HIM 24 1 both Strength and consolation ; and he felt more and more drawn towards the saint who had given his Ufe rather than compromise the Church. " Also Blessed Thomas the mart}^ appeared to him, in a vision, before he departed from England ; and, by famUiar warnings, strengthened him to act manfully. The holy man, having seen him, strove to raise the martyr's foot to his lips ; but Blessed Thomas, with drawing his foot, forbade him to kiss it. Therefore he wept and groaned. And St. Thomas said to him, ' Why do you weep ? ' And he replied, ' Because my unworthiness does not suffer my lips to kiss your most worthy feet.' And the martyr answered, 'I do not wish you to weep and groan at this repulse, for the time draws near when you will kiss me even on the face.' On another occasion it seemed to him that he was wishing to enter the church at Canter bury, to venerate the relics of Blessed Thomas. Where, after he had prayed. Blessed Thomas ap peared to him and, with a smiling face, thus spoke, ' I know. Father, what you ask from me ; — that I should show you the wounds of my head.' And, so saying, he seized his hand with his own hand ; and, guiding it to his head, allowed him to touch it, and humbly bent himself that he might feel the scars of the wounds. And, thinking that he ought to consult St. Thomas about the state of some of his adversaries, and speaking confidentially to him for some time, he asked him, in this wise, ' What,' said he, ' will become of those miserable men ? ' To whom the Q 242 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON holy martyr answered, 'You shall treat them like dumb animals.' And, having said this, he disap peared." ^ Thus we see that the martyr was present to St. Edmund, even in his dreams, exhorting him to be firm and fearless. One chronicler has described how, as St. Edmund left London for the last time, he turned and blessed the city. The picture is vivid before us. The weary Saint, who was leaving his church and his people, paused on an hill ^ near London ; and, " turning his eyes towards his province, and raising his consecrated hand, gave his blessing to his country."* But to her who had deliberately put aside her vow of reli gion, and turned back to the world, he added his malediction. 1 Addit. MS., f. loSb. ^ This was probably Blackheath, or Shooter's Hill. ' Chron. de Lan. , p. 39. CHAPTER XIV St. Edmund leaves England — Queen Blanche meets him at Senlis — He arrives at Pontigny — His Ufe at Pontigny — Speculum Ecclesie — St. Edmund becomes very ill — He is removed to Soissy — His last illness — His death — His body is brought back to Pontigny The manuscript Lives of St. Edmund do not say when he left England, and no chronicle gives the exact date. It must have been in the summer of 1240. The Saint was ill, and very weak; worn by anxieties, and by bodily sufferings. The Balliol manuscript says that " when leaving England he explained somewhat privately to the Prior and Sub- prior of Lewes the reason of his retirement from England. And being asked by the prior if he in tended to make any stay at Pontigny, he replied, ' At Pontigny we wiU do all good things, if it shall please God.' How much good he afterwards did at Pontigny the vast number of his benefits, of itself, sufficiently shows. " Secretly, therefore, and as if flying from Eng land, he departed. . . ." ^ We pause. — The story of St. Edmund's life in England, and 1 Ball. CoU.lMS.,t. 60. =43 244 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON of all the work he tried to do, seems to be but poorly told. The heroic struggle against sin and evil, the faithful defence of the Church, and the many efforts to protect and strengthen the souls committed to his care, are here but dimly described. A sudden memory rises before us again of his childhood days at Abingdon, the monastery, his home, and his mother. And another memory of his scholar-hfe at Oxford, so beautiful in its every detail of study, devotion, teaching, and generous self-denial, that Oxford, in her long history and endless calendar, can point to no other life even resembling it. And we see again his work at Salisbury, his preaching, and his holy influence. And, lastly, Canterbury. We would like to go back to the beginning, and teU all that has been omitted, and gather up the fragments that remain. But, instead, we let memory show us, tn one clear vision, that perfect life ; a soul ever filled with burning love. On the sea-shore, not far from Dover, the little band of men stood before departing. Edmund had with him his brother Robert, and Richard de la Wych, and several others. And there must have been a few of thefr personal friends present with them at the last. Thefr hearts were heavy, for they were sajdng a sad farewell ; and, worse, they were leaving the Church in grievous oppression and diffi culty. Yet it was impossible for the archbishop to remain in England. As the old Lives hasten over these bitter moments, so must we. The last HE LEAVES ENGLAND 245 words were said ; and then came the last touch of friendly hands ; the last step on the English shore ; and soon, through a mist of tears, the last sight of the EngUsh cUffs. What a world of pain it meant ! Matthew Paris tells us about this going away, and how the archbishop, as the ship bore him far from the coast, looked back towards the land ; and " he wept most bitterly, knowing in his heart that he would never see it again, and that the kingdom would suffer infinite evils, and the Church be over whelmed with a great slaverjr." ^ Edmund landed at Gravelines; and from thence he and his companions journeyed on to Senlis, where Blanche, the Queen-mother of France, met him. She had hastened thither with her children, wishing to show reverence and kindness to the Saint in his exUe. "Arrived in France, the archbishop had long and friendly converse at Senlis with the Lady Blanche, mother of the King of France, and, by consent of aU, a woman of great and more than woman's wisdom. Leading her sons into his presence she commended herself and them to his prayers, begged that he would give them his blessing ; and, with hands clasped together, most earnestly besought him to pour forth devout and unwearied prayers continually to God for the welfare of the realm of France, and the safety of the king. This request he granted with solemn assurances, and without 1 Hist, Angl,, iii. 280. 246 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON doubt he fulfilled his promise. It was, as we believe, and I judge it a pious belief, this very bene diction which restored life and health to the king when he was in the last stage of sickness ; and, as many asserted, already dead ; and afterwards, as his later success clearly proved, brought him honour and prosperity. The queen's supplications were the more earnest by reason of her remem brance of the accounts she had heard of the many proofs of sanctity shown forth tn him, and of his following closely and steadfastly in the footsteps of St. Thomas the martyr. She, therefore, offered to place the government of France in his hands, and thus provide him with a most honourable and special refuge of peace and quietude at the expense of the king, her son, who with his brothers devoutly urged the same request. The archbishop would not, however, tarry there. He many times thanked them; and, obtaining permission, hastened on to wards Pontigny, where he was received with all proper honour and due reverence. An house with beautiful and secret chambers, near the monastery and church, was assigned to him ; being, as the monks declared, the very house or dwelling-place which had been the secret abode of St. Thomas in his exile. This the archbishop gratefully and even joyfully accepted." ^ But we must turn again to the Balliol manu script for a fuller account of how St. Edmund > Cot, MS,, f. 142b. HE ARRIVES AT PONTIGNY 247 reached Pontigny, and the sense of rest and peace- fulness that filled his heart. The writer of that manuscript tells us nothing about the interview with Queen Blanche ; but only that Edmund left England for Pontigny, where there was an home for all bishops in exUe for their love of justice. There " he arrived under God's guidance. Where fore, knowing the future, he arrived at that place which was the refuge of his predecessors, following thefr footsteps. He rejoiced that God had brought him there by the wondrous care of divine grace ; for he placed before his eyes what stage of his earthly course Blessed Thomas, the illustrious martyr, fulfiUed there with patience during six years. And how the famous Dom Stephen de Langton, with many of his suffragans, tn like manner awaited there for so many years the crown of victory. So, too, others occurred to his memory who, enduring many such things, have overcome by faith. And therefore this patient man, in a place haUowed by so much patience, wished to await tn peace the end of his course, because he who is patient must be restored. Nor was he de prived of his desire ; for there this peaceful man was at rest, finding at Pontigny an haven after his toUs." ^ In seeking rest at Pontigny Edmund had no wish to cease from his labours. He was still God's priest, and a consecrated bishop : he must labour 1 BaU, CoU, MS,, f. 60. 248 SAINT EDMUND OP ABINGDON while life lasted. He had his sad moments, when the desolation of the Church in England filled his thoughts ; and then he would sigh deeply and cry, in the anguish of his soul, that it would be better for him to die than to witness the sorrows of the people and the woes of the Church. But, those moments over, he was again bright and cheerful, always ready to do good works, to hear confessions, and to preach. We are told ^ that St. Edmund passed the days, and some of the night hours also, tn reading and in prayer. It would seem that his early zeal for preaching came back to him, in the quiet of the country life. Again he went into the villages and preached to the people ; and again the poor of the neighbomrhood pressed to hear him. There was the same earnestness in his voice, the same fire of love in his words ; and, as of old, the hearts of the simple country folk were drawn to him, for they had their great heritage of faith, and they " knew his voice," and recognised him as^God's messenger. One day, when he was preaching at Legny, a poor woman brought her daughter who was ill to him, believing that by " his sacred touch " she would be healed. The Saint smUed. It was a smile of joy, for he loved to find such great faith in God's promises. " Do you believe beyond all doubt ? " he asked. He was not asking for faith in himself; but for faith in that power which Christ has left in His Church. And when the ' Addit. MS., f. 109. HIS LIFE AT PONTIGNY 249 woman answered unhesitatingly, " I do, my Lord," he made the holy sign of the Cross on the girl's forehead, and passed his hands down her face, and said, "May the Lord heal thee." And she was healed.^ Even the monks were astonished at the arch bishop's holiness, and wondered at the severity of his life. He begged to be allowed to live among them as one of their community ; and this request they granted. As in years past he had spent his weeks of vacation from Oxford with the monks at Reading, so he lived now with the religious at Pontigny, joining them in thefr Office, and keeping thefr fasts, and feasts, and silence. The monks greatly wished to hear St. Edmund preach ; and so, yielding to their desire, he preached one sermon ^ to the community. Only a summary of it has come down to us ; probably the rough notes made by one who heard it. Or some monk, trusting to his memory, wrote just the substance of the sermon, and sent it to England. But, such as it is, in its condensed and rugged form, we recognise in it a sermon of deep thought, learning, and earnest appeal While at Pontigny St. Edmund must, also, have finished the Speculum Ecclesie,^ which he dedicated 1 Addit. MS., f. 109b. 2 Cot, MS,, f. 155. ' MSS. in Bodleian ; and in St. John's College, Cambridge. Printed in Bibliotheca Patrum, See also Life of St. Ed. of Cant. , by Dom Wilfrid Wallace. 2 50 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON to the monks of that house. It is not possible here to say much about this work. It is the Saint's only Uterary production, unless we count his Provincial Constitutions. The Speculum Ecclesie, or Summa Sancti Edmundi, as it has been called, needs a book to itself. — It treats of the perfect life, holiness, truth, love, and God's gifts. It tells how a man should spend his time; and it dwells much on gratitude, prayer, and contemplation. It speaks of the seven mortal sins, the Beatitudes, the gifts of the Holy Spirit, and the commandments. Then it leads us on to the theological virtues, articles of faith, and the Sacra ments. It suggests a method of contemplation during the recitation of the Divine Office; and it gives, also, many most beautiful aids to medi tation. But no mere description of this work can be of any worth. The Speculum Ecclesie is the written ex pression of the Saint's hidden life, formulated with a scholar's scientific reasoning and clearness of diction. St. Edmund probably spent much time on the work, at different intervals. It was always a labour of love, in the highest sense ; and, finally, dedicated in all love to those good religious who were grateful to be able to succour and serve him in his last days on earth. Those last days were drawing very near. The manuscripts must tell the story. — St. Edmund grew weaker each day ; and he HE GOES TO SOISSY 251 suffered much from the extreme heat at Pontigny. Then he was advised to go to Soissy for a few weeks, as the afr there was more bracing. There was at Soissy a convent of regular canons. It was a smaU house, dependent on the large Abbey of St. James at Provins. Edmund consented to be re moved to the monastery at Soissy ; but when some of the community at Pontigny lamented his depar ture, he was deeply touched, and bade them be comforted, and assured them that, if God wUled, he would return to them on the feast of St. Edmund. Then he left ; but he journeyed slowly, for he was very feeble. His brother Robert and Richard de la Wych went with him. Those two never left htm, but were his most faithful companions, and served him with rare affection, following his every wish. And there were others with him also. As they passed through Coulours, the Saint noticed the monastery there ; and he asked what house it might be. And when he was ' told that it was an house of the Templars, he said, " I will rest there on my return." The short journey to Soissy was safely accompUshed; and there the Abbot of St. James received him with great reverence and all solicitude. And there, at Soissy, the Saint remained ; and whUe there he endeavoured, despite his increasing feeble ness, to live his accustomed life of prayer and active charity. "And when at length his sickness grew so grievous that he could no longer make his way to the gate. 252 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON in order to dispense alms to the poor, he summoned one of his chaplains, and said, ' I order thee that thou go to the door as frequently as may be, to bestow money on any pilgrims whom thou mayst see passing: and, as thou seest them more needy and destitute, give to one, two sUver pieces or three ; to another, four. And let there be nothing faulty in the discharge of this work of mercy ; but let my behests from this chamber be to thee tn place of thine own will' And now, when he perceived that his last day was drawing nigh, he bade to be brought unto him the glorious Body of our Lord. And that he might wisely ^ go forth to meet his approaching Lord, he, himself an anointed^ son, did meanwbUe replenish his lamp with oil. And how fafr a lamp, what precious oil he had stored away, those words do testify which he thus addressed, as it were to his coming Lord, when they reached forth to him the Viaticum. For, stretching forth his right hand to wards the said Body of our Lord, he spake unto It with great boldness, and said, ' Thou, Lord, art He in whom I have beUeved; whom I have proclaimed; whom I have truly taught ; and Thou art my wit ness that whUe on earth I have sought nothing but Thee. As also Thou knowest that I wUl nothing but what Thou wiliest, Lord. And so. Thy wUl be done ; for in Thy will is my wUl' " Good Jesu ! from out of how pure a conscience 1 "Prudenter," referring to the five "prudentes virgines." - Alluding to his episcopal grace, which is symbolised by Chrism. HIS LAST HOURS 253 did he thus speak, who caUed to witness the Heavenly Judge and Searcher of hearts ! Whence all who stood around marvelled, deeming him to have lost his mind ; the more so that he bore him self as though he beheld the Crucified present according to the flesh. And so immeasurable was the glow of his faith, and the affection of his devotion, that words faU to teU it ; and almost the mind of man to grasp it. "After he had received the most precious Viaticum, being flooded with bliss, and giving utterance in his mother-tongue to the joy that was in his heart, he thus spake, referring to the English proverb, ' Men seien yath game goth in wombe. At ic segge non game goth in herte.' For, having received sacramentaUy the Author of aU joy, he was exulting before Him, and revelling tn a gladness which the soul of man is too feeble and straitened to contain ; which, being unutterable so far as it was in his heart, scarce describable so far as it shone in his face, he who should attempt to describe it would perchance but seem to swerve from the track of truth. And so, through the whole of that day, he was as cheerful and Ught-hearted as though he were safe and sound from the least sickness. On the thfrd day after this he begged to receive the sacra ment of the dying, namely, the Last Unction; a wish which the loving care of his attendants carried into effect. After which he asked to have the cross set before his eyes, together with the images of 2 54 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON Blessed Mary and Blessed John, as a reminder, so to say, of the Crucified and His most sacred Passion. And taking it up with an outburst of sighing and abundant showers of tears, he embraced it, and pressed it devoutly and lovingly to his Ups. There upon mixing a little vessel of wine and water, which he had ordered to be brought to him, he washed therein with his own hand the nail-prints of the said cross ^ and the wound of the lance-pierced side. And making the sign of the cross upon the rinsings, he drank them with great devotion ; and then putting his lips to the wound-prints he uttered these words, ' Now shaU ye draw water with joy from the Saviour's wells.' And having drunk the ablutions as afore said, thereafter he abstained from drinking altogether. AU present marvelled, nor without good cause, to see such a shower of penitential tears poured forth by one so holy ; and to witness this unwonted fashion of his simple devotion, together with the bright ness of his unclouded conscience. They were fairly amazed that in his face there shone forth such joy from the inward exultation of his soul; and that he showed such control over his external move ments. For now his limbs had almost faUed him, although his mind seemed ever to put forth some new grace." ^ Then it must have been that his thoughts wan dered back to Canterbury, and to the monks there ; but his thoughts went out to them in love and ' i.e Crucifix. 2 Addit. MS., f. 109b. HIS LAST HOURS 255 peace. He forgave the monks all that they had done to hurt him; and, if they would submit and render satisfaction, he entfrely revoked his sentence against them. And he begged pardon for himself from them aU. And much consideration for all the good religious around him fiUed his heart in those last hours. When the Prior of Soissy showed evi dent signs of grief, seeing how soon the end must come, the Saint comforted him, and promised that his heart and his love would ever remain with them. He expressed a wish that, after his death, his body might be taken back to Pontigny, to be buried there. He heard some of those who had followed him from England bewailing his approaching death. " What wUl happen to us," they cried, " if our dear master dies ? " They dreaded the lack of material help, for they were poor men ; and they feared the anger of the king and the nobles if they returned to England, and they could not find means of living tn France. The Saint heard them, and understood. He asked for materials for writing ; and wrote, weak and dying as he was, a letter for them to carry to the Bishop of Norwich. " My handwriting is well known to my faithful friends, and wUl do more for you than my seal," he said as he gave them the letter. Then some old home memories came back to him ; and he thought once more of his two sisters at Catesby. He left to them his camelot cloak, and the " Tabula." ^ And, lastly, he remembered his 1 See pp. 53, 54. 2 56 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON dear chancellor, Richard ; and gave to him that most sacred gift, — the vessel in which he was wont, in his church, to reserve the Blessed Sacrament. It could not have been a ciborium belonging to the Canterbury Cathedral, for that he would not have removed ; but it was possibly one from his own private chapel, and perhaps of some value. " Nor do I think we must pass over in silence those words of wonderful affection which the Saint uttered in expressing his last wish about Blessed Richard. ' We leave to our beloved chancellor,' he said, ' our Cup, in witness of how we have for long held him in our heart's affections.' " ^ As St. Edmund grew still weaker " it happened that a certain skilled physician approached to feel his pulse, as is thefr way ; who, when he had observed him closely, said to him, with some sadness of heart, ' Your pulse, my Lord, is very weak, and indicates a weakness of vital power.' But the Saint answered him, ' Be in no wise concerned, for I am ready as one girt for a journey ; fortified, like a good Catholic, with all the sacraments of the Church ; and further, I have ordered that the candles and other necessaries for my funeral be got ready without faU, as is right and fitting.' And, indeed, although he was now on the brink of death, he showed none of the certain signs of dying ; no groaning, or sighing, no words of plaint. Nor did he lie in his bed, as is the way with dying 1 Acta Sanctorum, April 3. " cuppa, vel copa. ad reponendam Eucharistiam.'^ See Du Cange. HIS HOLY DEATH 257 men ; but either sat, or — when he wished to rest — leant his head upon his hand. " At last, on the 1 6th of November, he sank into a ' precious death,' on the week-day whereon Christ our true life tasted death for the dead. And about the hour when the morning sun rises, he, brighter than the sun, likewise rose to his heavenly throne ; in the quiet of a peaceful slumber, without any death-struggle such as is wont to befall the dying ; passing from the mfre of earth to heaven, from this ' body of death ' to the land of the living, from the sorrows of men to the joys of angels. He died, not in fine linen or purple, nor on a soft and downy couch ; but clad in his homely garb of every-day, and stretched upon his usual bed, namely, upon the hard bare ground. Whose guileless and saintly soul, high and noble, and a stranger to all the snares of this world, the chofrs of angels did receive, and bear joyfully to the bosom of Abraham ; where now it reposes from its toil, is gladdened after banishment, is happUy crowned after victory ; where it is encom passed with the light of Truth, inebriated to the full from the weU-spring of Charity ; where it loves more abundantly, and understands more fully. Him whom he believed in, whom he devoutly worshipped, whom he faithfully served." ' In the Annales Monasterii de Oseneia^ St. Edmund's death is related with fuller particulars. And great confidence 1 may be placed in this more detailed 1 Addit. MS., f. nob. 2 Annales Monast., iv. p. 88. R 2S8 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON account of how the Saint, through that his night of agony, counted the hours till the light dawned. For it is certain that at Oxford his death was deeply lamented, and much spoken about ; and some one who was present with him tn those last hours, possibly his brother Robert, or Brother Robert Bacon, repeated these details to the monks at Oseney, and to other friends in Oxford. And so the Oseney chronicler preserved them for us. It seems that at midnight St. Edmund asked what hour it was ; and those who were with him answered, " It is about midnight." Again, after a long interval of quiet, he asked, " What hour is it now ? " and they replied, " Before dawn." Again he was sUent for a whUe ; and then asked the thfrd time, " What hour of the night is it now ? " When they answered, " It is the dawn," he said, " And I commend you to God." Once more his voice was heard. " Into Thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit," he said, and passed away. On the next day those who had letters of recom mendation from the Saint to carry to England departed with much sorrow and many tears, having first bade farewell to the clerics who were watching near the body.^ Then, in the presence of all the community, the archbishop's seal was broken in pieces and quite destroyed, that no fraudulent letters might be issued as coming from him. This was a very necessary, and quite usual, precaution.^ ' Cot. MS., f. 147b. 2 Hid. THE FUNERAL PROCESSION 259 "So then the body of the servant of God was laid on a bier to be borne to Pontigny, where he had most piously desfred that he might be buried. The interior part of the body was removed, accord ing to the custom tn such cases, and placed in a tomb tn the church of St. James, at Provins, marked by miracles and abundant virtues. The rest of the body, duly washed and clad tn the sacred vestments, was carried with fitting reverence into the little chapel at Soissy, where the night vigils were devoutly kept. On the following day that noble piece of earth reached Traisnel, where it was sought out with great and unexpected devotion by the people, who received it with incredible reverence, rejoiced at the sight of it, were gladdened by its presence, beUeved that they were sanctified by its touch, and deemed holy whatever had come in contact with it. The Abbot of Pontigny, however, seeing the great gathering of the people, thefr wonderful devotion and unrestrained veneration, putting aside all strangers, came near to the sacred body, and said, ' Good Father, seeing that thou art a brother of the church of Pontigny, to me thou owest humble obedience, if thou so deemest right. I will, therefore, and pray that thou wilt work no miracle till thou art come to the place appointed for thy burial' He was fearful lest the body should be taken from him by force, or that the pontifical vestments would be torn in pieces by the people. For the same cause he, for greater security and certainty, sealed the bier with his own 26o SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON seal in the sight of many. The next day, as the holy body was journeying through Villeneuve I'Arche- veque, there ran to meet it a great multitude of men and women who hailed the Saint with cries of joy, and kissed with eager and wondrous piety the bier which thefr dense masses had hindered from pro ceeding on its way. Nor could they in any way be restrained, nor by any prohibition be withheld from taking the bier by force from the shoulders of the abbot and priests, bearing it into the church, and there placing it, as the most sacred relics are placed, on the greater altar. Then truly did each one believe that he suffered no small loss if he did not touch, or at least look upon, the body or the bier; if he, drawn on by love or reverence, did not do honour with his eyes to some part of the body or to the bier ; for its very touch was seen to bring heal ing to each one. Some ran into the church; others, unable to do so by reason of the concourse of people, awaited outside for its coming forth. At length, after a prolonged delay, those who had charge of it made an appeal to certain powerful men. These forced the people, who were pressing on tn crowds, to make way. And the body was then placed on a carriage; and, with multitudes both going before and following after, was borne with all honour to the house of the Templars at Coulours. And, seeing that mention has been made of this house, we will here record a circumstance worthy of re membrance. When the blessed father was journey- THE FUNERAL PROCESSION 26 1 ing through this village, on his way from Pontigny, casting his eyes upon this house, he inquired about it of those who rode with him. Some one replied, ' My Lord, this is the house of the Templars.' To whom the Saint made answer, 'When I return to Pontigny I will tarry here a night, as a guest.' And when his body, as was predicted, stayed there as a guest for one night, then was fulfilled that which the Saint had foretold. On the third day, when the body was removed, there came to meet it both men and women, who united their voices in calling and shouting, ' Where is the holy body ? ' On the one side were ranks of clerics chanting psalms ; on the other, crowds of reUgious, paUid by reason of fasting. Thither, too, the tUlers of the soil, from the fields and villages, and some even from the neighbouring castles, came with joyful minds to meet the body. Then two of his clerics, who, though of another faith, were yet of like mind with the Jews who sought a sign, marvelled at the multitude and their wonderful devotion ; and thus spake, one to the other, ' For what cause do men run forth with so great reverence to meet this corpse, and with one mind acclaim and applaud him as a saint ? They know nothing of him, or of his life ; and are ignorant of his saintliness.' And they said, ' The monks of Pontigny have taken care to send forth some of thefr community to announce his death and proclaim his sanctity, that by their mouths the ignorant may be taught to worship and offer up 262 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON devout prayers to him as to a saint.' The people, however, continuing none the less to press on in crowds, these clerics, impelled thereto by thefr im- belief, sprang with one accord from their horses and ran eagerly in front of those who accompanied the sacred body, anxiously asking and questioning them why they thus came together, and what it was they sought. But the people indeed, to whom flesh and blood had not revealed it, taught by guiding unction from above, made answer, ' We go to meet the Saint.' Others, again, inquired most eagerly at what time the Saint would arrive, and imme diately hastened on without waiting for an answer. Women, too, forgetful of a proper mien and modesty, ran to meet him with haste as great as thefr devo tion was deep. What more need be added ? Young men and maidens, old men and chUdren, yearned for his coming, and to loudly proclaim him one of God's saints. Accompanied, therefore, by a large and reverent escort, the body reached the gates of Pontigny on the day of St. Edmund, king and martyr; and was received with due veneration by the assembled abbots, and by the monks, who had come in procession to the gates to meet it. Then came to their remembrance how the Confessor of Christ had spoken truly when he promised that he would without doubt return to them on that day, and they said one to another, ' Is not our father's promise most faithfully fulfilled, even though other wise than as we looked for it ? Thee, our father, we THE RETURN TO PONTIGNY 263 hoped to receive back alive, and, behold ! in death thou hast truly kept the promise thou didst make. Yet so do we now in mourning receive thee, that thy presence may, tn the time to come, be our glory and exultation.' " So, placing the body in the church, they waited for the preparation of the tomb untU the seventh day after his death. During which time no sign of corruption appeared, nor was there any of the usual evil odour to offend those who stood near. " But all that night the whole church kept vigil in prayer, the body lying in thefr midst, with the face uncovered, and suffused with a colour as of roses." ^ 1 Addit MS.,S. ni-ii2b. CHAPTER XV St. Edmund's ring — His burial — Miracles cease — The Arch bishop of Sens visits Pontigny — First translation of the relics — The Saint's canonisation — The formal translation of the relics — Letter from Richard de la Wych — The new shrine, and second formal translation of the relics — Chapels built in England — The lasting effect of St. Edmund's life Some interesting incidents occurred almost imme diately after the Saint's death : one among them is especially prominent. And it is strongly substan tiated by an anecdote found in the Liber Addita mentorum, Matthew Paris there teUs us that St. Edmund, at the time of his death, wore a very poor sort of ring ; and some one who was devoted to him gave him instead one of much greater value, saying that the Saint would restore it to him with interest. This cleric was afterwards present at the transla tion of the Saint's body; and he then remembered about the ring, and took St. Edmund's hand in his, and the ring fell into his hand again.^ In the Balliol manuscript the story comes directly after the description of how the Saint's body lay all night, with the face uncovered, in the church at Pontigny ; and it is probably the more correct version of what happened. The writer of the manuscript says that ' Matt. Paris, vi. p, 130. 264 HIS RING 265 " a certain monk, named Peter, then sacristan at the monastery, stood by him according to the duty of his office, admitting as occasion demanded certain of those crowding in. And he, seeing that many were for a long time coming up, trying if they could seize anything belonging to St. Edmund, and that others were presenting various ornaments to his touch, quietly said within himself, ' Why is it that you are so Uttle incited by this great devotion of the faithful that you do not get some memorable token from these holy things, which will be of profit on future occasions, especially as you perform the duty of a sacristan, to whose care belongs the disposal of such things ? It shall not be so. I know what I wUl do.' Then, approaching nearer, as if to do some of his work, he tried to tear away the ring from the hand of the archbishop, and to substitute another. And when, by touching it gently, he in nowise succeeded, he began to press with all the force he could, and the ring withstood him, and remained quite immoveable on the finger. He, after tarry ing long in vain, fearing to be caught tn the act, departed; and deliberating what was to be done, although confused by what had happened, he again drew near, and bending devoutly at the ears of the corpse, tn an humble voice, as if addressing the Uving, thus he spoke. ' I have sinned, holy Father, because I did not ask your leave first. I wished to claim for myself what was yours. But, because I intended to do it for your honour and the healing 266 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON of the faithful, pardon me now that I confess my fault, and mercifully grant at my request what I ask.' Having said this he approached the hand, and immediately he touched the ring it came off with such ease that it seemed not to be drawn, but rather to slip off. Being pleased at such an omen he confessed each circumstance to the abbot ; who, congratulating him, ordered that the ring should be laid up with the other sacred things. And by touching it many benefits are granted to the sick even to to-day, by the bounty of God." ^ In connection with this story it is very interesting to find that in the treasury at St. Albans was a ring which Matthew Paris carefully describes tn his Ust of some of the gems and rings that beloEged to the monastery church. He has left us a drawing of it in his manuscript ; and, next to the coloured drawing, the description. — " This precious stone, which is a sapphire, nearly round and of light colour, was given by Dom Nicholas, a worker in gold at St. Albans, to God and to the church of St. Alban. This jewel once belonged to Blessed Edmund, Arch bishop of Canterbury ; and afterwards to his brother Robert; and after that to the aforesaid Dom Nicholas. In the edge of the ring are black letters, very daintily inscribed ; and a cross with the Figure engraved. It weighs about six drachms." ^ This was probably not the ring mentioned tn the Balliol manuscript, which was placed among the treasures 1 Ball, Coll, MS,, f. 63. ' Matt. Paris, vi. p. 384 HIS BURIAL 267 at Pontigny. It is more Ukely that the ring at St. Albans was one that Robert Rich kept as a sacred keepsake, because it had at some time be longed to the Saint. When Robert became a Cistercian monk he naturally gave away every thing he possessed, and the treasured ring may then have been sent to Nicholas of St. Albans. The Balliol manuscript goes on to say that on the next day an innumerable multitude of the faithful came together ; and the body of the Saint was solemnly and devoutly buried, many abbots and religious being present. On the day of the burial only three mfracles occurred. The writer adds that this was perhaps "because no subjects were present on whom mfracles could take place." He seems, by this, to imply that all those who hastened to be present at the burial were well, and came more from thefr love for the Saint, and to show honour and respect to his memory, than to ask any great gifts or graces for themselves. Therefore there were only the three miracles. And these are not described, though they were the beginning of those wonderful benefits which God,- through His Saint, graciously granted to the faithful. " On the foUowing day, a council being held, they placed earth on the body; and the miracles which had begun to take place ceased for about eight days. Whereupon the brothers were very much saddened, seeing the sick arrive and not take away with them the health they longed for. They 268 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON were deliberating from what cause this could possibly happen, when a certain brother, named Herman, coming to them asserted that he had seen a clear vision ; saying, ' I wUl, if you wish, set before you the reason of this thing.' And he added, ' See, and behold! Blessed Father Edmund has appeared to me now many times, and when I reverently chided him for not completing a work tn miracles which was good and well begun, he — showing himself buried and lying tn the earth, his hands sunk there above his breast, and having no power to lift them — thus answered me. What can I do, thus weighed down ? See ! I cannot rise ; I cannot lift my hands ! ' AU, therefore, moved by this vision, gave glory to God ; and removed the earth which had been placed upon him. And when this was done the power of working miracles suddenly returned." ^ It was just then that the Archbishop of Sens went to Pontigny, hoping that he might see the Saint. His visit is very carefully related, both tn the Addit, and in the Balliol manuscripts. The writer of the latter narrative says, — " Lord Walter, then Archbishop of Sens, absent in body but present in spirit, had loved this man of God with great affection, and marvellously yearned to see him, and to hear him speak. Therefore, he sent great gifts, wishing to come into his presence to receive his blessing ; but the wisdom of Heaven ordained that he should not find him alive whom he sought. ' BaU, CoU. MS,, f. 63b. TRANSLATION OF THE BODY 269 Whereupon, worn out with grief, he hastened to Pontigny, and hoped to see him dead whom he could not see alive. He obtained his desire, and coming to the monastery, obtained from the abbot leave to see him who had been buried now a month, and to touch him with his hands. He came, and saw ; for, the tomb being open on now the seven times four days,^ he found no corruption. There fore, giving thanks to God, he went away; and after a short time the archbishop himself died.^ There appear to have been two translations of the Saint's body. The first was due, in some degree, to the fact that the tomb was opened, and the body seen by the Archbishop of Sens, and by many at the monastery. But, in a greater degree, it was the result of the affection and reverence felt for the Saint by all at Pontigny. This veneration deepened day by day ; and it undoubtedly led the abbot and chapter to desfre that the sacred reUc (for already they deemed that Edmund was indeed a saint) might be removed to a safe place, with more appearance of honour than the simple tomb tn the earth. Some kind of permission must have been obtained for doing this; but the Archbishop of Sens was one of those who had visited the monastery and seen the holy body, and he would readUy have granted such a request. The trans lation was quite informal, and the ceremony appears to have been private, only members of the com- ' A reference to Lazarus. " BaU. Coll. MS., f. 63b. 270 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON munity, and perhaps one or two of the Saint's special friends, being present. All must have felt that the canonisation of the Saint would soon follow, and that then there would be the solemn translation of the relics to a yet more fitting place of honour. The Balliol manuscript ends with the account of this first translation; and we can feel sure, from the writer's careful description, that he was one of those who assisted at the ceremony. About three months after the burial of the Saint, the abbot and the monks met together, to move the body to a more suitable tomb, in a more elevated position. Then " those who were present saw the body unimpafred ; the face clear, and not marked by any corruption. They approached nearer, giving glory to God. And, touching the body with thefr own hands, they found the limbs, which in the dead are wont to be rigid, flexible. Why need I say more ? He was placed in a coffin. But the height of the chalice caused a difficulty, so that it could not be exactly fitted. Seeing this, those who stood by cut the sacred vestments of the archbishop. Nor was this sufficient. So they uncovered a part of the surface of the body, tn order that the chalice might fit in the coffin, when they found the flesh as it were abundant, and so sweet that, impressing a kiss on his holy breast, they noticed a wonderful fragrance. Who would not be surprised, and say that this was a remarkable miracle, and granted to but very few saints ? And so his tomb wias arranged HIS CANONISATION 27 I in peace, since his dwelling was in the heavenly Syon. To this tomb the sick came, and were healed, and many benefits were granted to the faithful. From which grew the devotion of be lievers, profession of faith increased, the confusion of the unbelieving was made plain, the frequent and happy joy of holy Mother Church became great. " And note weU how the zealous Lover of faith ful souls has glorified His Saint with miracles. Abingdon gave him his bfrth, Oxford his education, Paris brought him to man's perfect stature, the church at Salisbury drew him to the lot of the sons of God, Canterbury raised him to the episcopal dignity. Moreover, Pontigny welcomed him when alive, and an exile ; Soissy received him dead, Pro vins obtained a portion of him for burial. Again Pontigny now received his dead body. And where he first lived as an exUe, there he duly received the consummation of the Blessed. Let the first, therefore, rejoice as a nurse over a babe ; let the second be glad of so • good and great a pupil ; let the third exult over such a master, as father and doctor ; let the fourth venerate him ; let the fifth deUght in his praises. Let the sixth congratulate him, as not now dead, but alive for ever. Let the seventh hope to have with him eternity for time. The eighth, and last, await with him the rewards of the eighth beatitude." ^ Edmund's canonisation, so earnestly desired by 1 Ball, CoU, MS,, ff. 63b, 64. 272 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON thfe Church, and so sincerely longed for by the faithful in England and tn France, met with con siderable opposition. The men who had persecuted him, and driven him into exile, had in thefr ranks some people of importance, whose power and influ ence went far to delay, if not to prevent, the cause which was being urgently solicited by the Catholic world, and especially by those who had witnessed Edmund's holy life, and had seen the miracles which were wrought at his tomb. It was, doubt less, a matter of more than mere annoyance to the King of England, Cardinal Otho, the barons, and the monks of Canterbury, that the name of the man they had opposed and openly disregarded should be enrolled in the catalogue of the saints. To them his canonisation meant that the questions of right and wrong doing would be decided once and for ever ; and the verdict would be against themselves. They feared that thefr jealousies, avarice, and selfish intrigues would be exposed tn the course of the necessary investigations ; and the simple hoUness, and straightforward honesty of the archbishop would be proclaimed everywhere, and for ever. They had lived side by side with this man, they had seen his manner of life, and had heard his doctrine; and yet they had never been able to gauge the depth of his love, and had never understood the purity and the wisdom of his policy. They had trampled upon him. And now, — he was to be proclaimed a saint ! Something more than HIS CANONISATION 273 annoyance, more than humiUation, lay in all this for those who had rejoiced and triumphed when Edmund quietly left the country. It is not difficult to under stand that there was opposition, and consequent delay. The exceeding holiness of Edmund's life, the miracles which God permitted him to work, and the loud cry of the people for justice to be done to his name, combined in one appeal to the Pope for his canonisation. The Saint's most faithful friends, and others who had known him intimately, began at once to coUect evidences of his sanctity, and proofs of the miracles which were so widely recognised. Robert Rich, Richard de la Wych, Robert Bacon, the Arch bishop of York, the Archbishop of Armagh, and very many others, laboured earnestly in the cause. Letters were written to the Pope from the University of Oxford, from the churches of York, Salisbury, Win chester, London, Chichester, Lincoln, Norwich, Roches ter, Worcester, and Bath ; and also from the churches of Sens, Tours, Bourges, Meaux, SenUs, and Auxerre. At the same time the abbots of Westminster, Read ing, and Merton, wrote their testimonies, and sent their supplications. Those letters, and many others, spoke in words of sincere praise and true apprecia^ tion of Edmund's singular holiness, great learning, and never-failing charity. We read those letters to-day ; and we see how all the writers, great and good men, whose testimony no one would venture to question, spoke of Edmund's early piety, of his hidden life of penance, of his charity, of his abiUty 274 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON and knowledge, and of his rare gifts of teaching and preaching, and, above all, that he excelled tn the science of the saints. The letters are too many to be quoted here. Passages from some have been already given,^ as we followed the Saint in his daUy life at Oxford, and at SaUsbury. They all told the same story ; and they all bore the same testimony. They were like one loud cry from the people that their English scholar, master, preacher, archbishop, and steadfast friend, might rank with the glorious saints and confessors of the Church, to stand before the Great White Throne, and plead for England and for the English people. Edmund died in 1240, during the pontificate of Gregory IX. The Cistercian order, at a general chapter in 1241, agreed that his canonisation should be asked for ; and Abbot Bruno, who was then Abbot of La Fert^, sent a petition to the Pope. But Gregory died before the petition reached him. His successor, Celestine IV., lived for only a few weeks. During that short reign the subject could hardly have been mentioned. In 1243 Innocent IV. was elected to the Chair of Peter ; and to him came the appeal for Edmund's canonisation. He ordered, and perhaps with greater emphasis because of certain opposition in high places, strict and careful inqufries to be made as to Edmund's merits, and he appointed a special commission to investigate the cause, and commanded that the witnesses of the miracles should ' See pp. 97-107. HIS CANONISATION 275 be most scrupulously examined. This commission did its work patiently and thoroughly. The men who laboured on it spared neither time nor trouble. They knew how entire and searching the investiga tion must be, in order to satisfy the demands for truthful witnesses and unquestionable proofs. Many of the letters sent to the Pope were the result of the inqufries made by the commissioners, and, in the end, they were rewarded with success. The Bull proclaiming Edmund's canonisation came on January 11, 1247. Briefly and plainly it told the story of his life ; — that wonderful Ufe, so separate and distinct from the world around him that its history, told in the simple words of the Bull, will win love and veneration for him through all ages. The Pope and the cardinals had agreed about his merits on the Saturday before the third Sunday in Advent, in 1246. And on the Sunday following, whUe the CathoUc Church sang " Rejoice in the Lord always," the Holy Father did " declare him worthy of being inscribed in the Catalogue of the Saints." Then the voices of detractors were silent. There was an hush and calm everywhere. The noisy controversies, the Ul-concealed jealousies, and the endless intrigues, lay crushed and dead. But England and France, and the whole Catholic world, rejoiced, and gave glory to God that such a man had Uved. Assuredly, by that one life, the world was better and richer ! Assuredly he lived stiU : his soul had but passed to the Lord. 276 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON The formal translation of the relics followed soon after the canonisation. In June 1247 the body of the Saint was again moved ; but this time with all the solemn service and rites of the Church, for it was a public translation, in consequence of the canonisation. The Queen-mother of France was present, with the King of France, and his brothers. They had met the Saint when he left England and was journeying to Pontigny ; and they had sought his blessing, and asked for his prayers. They had recognised the Saint, though then but a poor pilgrim, an exUe from England. Now they came into his presence again, to witness the translation of his body from the poor and humble tomb to a more fitting shrine. The king, when he arrived at Pontigny, refused to be received as a king. He was only a pUgrim, like many others present there. He begged that the honour due to royalty might be given to his mother, not to himself Two cardinals, and many bishops and abbots, were also present at the translation ; and women, by a special licence from the Holy Father, were permitted to enter the Cistercian church. Richard de la Wych, who was present, wrote afterwards to the Abbot of Begeham a full account of all that happened, and of his own sense of joy at seeing once more the face of his dear master. The letter describes the solemn ceremony very minutely and faithfully. " E.,^ by the Grace of God Bishop of Chichester, ' "E."is an obvious mistake of the scribe. The letter is from B. Bishop of Chichester. TRANSLATION OF THE RELICS 277 to his venerable friend R., Abbot of Begeham,^ greeting. " In order that you may be more fully informed as to the translation and condition of the most holy body of the Blessed Edmund, be it known to you that on the morrow of Holy Trinity last past, to wit tn the year of grace 1247, ^^ the month of June, on the fifteenth day before the kalends of June,^ when the tomb of our said Father Edmund was first opened, there being then few persons present, and the hour late, we found the condition of the afore said body to be perfect and entire, and the odour thereof most fragrant. The head with the hair, and the face shining bright; the body with the other members perfectly intact, and giving forth an heavenly odour above balm and all manner of incense. The nose alone having suffered some slight injury and harm from the weight of the sheet of metal touching and pressing upon it. The whole body, and especially the face, was found unharmed, and as though oil had been poured all over it. And this we interpret by the intact virginity, which he promised and pledged with his ring to the image of the Blessed Virgin, and which he so faithfully pre served. But, by the oil, or the similitude of oU, we can weU take to be signified the grace both of manners, and of doctrine, and excellent science, with ' A Premonstratensian abbey in Sussex. " May 18. " Mense Junio " must be a mistake of the scribe ; and the date itself appears to be wrong. 278 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON which he so brightly shone. For grace was poured abroad in his Ups, whether tn reading, in disputing, in preaching, or in teaching. Therefore did the Lord anoint him with the oil of gladness before all the readers and doctors of his time. We found also certain other signs of his virtues, whereof we will inform you more privily and fully when a timely opportunity offers ; but which the length of the matter does not permit us to reduce to writing. Concerning those however noted above, let not your discretion doubt ; for ' we speak what we know, and we testify what we have seen.' Moreover, with our own hands we handled his holy body, and with a comb we combed again and again the head with the hairs upon it firm and unhurt, diligently, reverently, yea, even joyfully, and once for all set them in order. " But it was on the Sunday next before the feast of the Blessed Bernard^ that the translation of our most Blessed Father, Archbishop of Canterbury, and Confessor, was celebrated, by the will of God, at Pontigny, with exultation and glory ineffable, and magnificent praises of God ; to the no small increase, moreover, of the honour of our nation. There were present the Lord King of the Franks, and his mother; and the counts, his brothers, and many great men. Moreover, there assisted two cardinals, to wit, he of Albano, and the French legate; together with archbishops, bishops, abbots, priors, and other vener- ' St. Barnabas? THE SHRINE 279 able prelates, as many as possible, whose number we were not able to learn. "May your holiness fare well in desired good health evermore." ^ An almost similar account of the condition of the body at this translation is given by Matthew Paris. He says that on the ninth of July, in the year 1247, " was translated the body of Blessed Edmund of Canterbury, Archbishop and Confessor, at Pontigny, tn the presence of his most christian majesty Louis, King of the Franks, and many authorized bishops. You must know, nay, rather it should be proclaimed to all the world, that his whole body was found entire, uncorrupted, and fragrant ; and, what is more wonderful tn a dead man, flexible in all his limbs. His hair and vestments were unchanged, both tn colour and substance. And when the monks of Pontigny wished to give some part of the sacred body to the king, who was about to cross the sea, the king replied, ' It would not please Christ, that' what God has preserved entire for so long, should be in any way mutUated by me, a sinner.' " ^ And later, in the same Historia Anglorum, Matthew Paris tells us of the second formal translation, which was sanctioned in consequence of the monks' desfre to erect a more elaborate and costly shrine. The monks at Pontigny were divided on this point. Some wished that the sacred relic might remain in the simple stone sarcophagus, which was in keeping 1 Cot. MS., i. 154. '^ Hist. Angl., ii. p. 26. 28o SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON with the poverty and humility of the Cistercian order ; while others desfred that a rich and magni ficent shrine should be erected, in which the body might be placed. The question grew into a pro longed controversy; and was only finally settled when Bertrand, who was most anxious for the sumptuous shrine, was made Prior of Pontigny. By his authority the new shrine was commenced ; and, afterwards, he obtained permission from the Pope that, despite the rule and custom of the Cistercian order, the new shrine might be adorned with gold and silver and precious stones. So, in 1249, to a new shrine " most elegantly wrought, of gold, and sUver, and crystal, for the second time was trans lated the body of Blessed Edmund of Canterbury, Archbishop and Confessor, at Pontigny, and honour ably and very solemnly entombed, a great number of prelates and magnates assisting. It was found whole and uncorrupted, flexible and sweet-smelling, to the honour of God and of the universal Church, and particularly to the glory of the kingdoms of France and England, on the day on which it was raised from the ground, that is the ninth of June, which is the day of St. Primus and St. Felician."^ And it was to this shrine, tn 1 254, that King Henry journeyed when he was iU and infirm ; and, having prayed, received health again.^ The beautiful shrine at Pontigny, adorned and enriched by Richard of CornwaU, was worthy of the 1 Ilist. Angl., iii. p. 54. ^ Ibid., p. 341. CHAPELS DEDICATED TO HIM 28 1 great English Saint whose body rested there. An,d equally worthy of him were the chapels built tn his honour tn his own EngUsh land. We like to remember that it was by the king's command that St. Edmund's feast-day was first solemnly observed in Oxford, where his memory was held so dear. At Abingdon, on the site of the house where the Saint was bom, Edmund of Cornwall, son of Richard of CornwaU, had a chapel built, and dedicated it to him. Richard de la Wych, known to us all as the saintly Bishop Richard of Chichester, in grati tude for all that he had learnt from his dear master, Edmund, erected an altar to his memory in the cathedral at Chichester ; and, when dying, begged that his body might be buried near to it. A chapel was buUt at Westminster and dedicated to St. Edmund by Richard Crokesby, who was then abbot of the Westminster Abbey. And at Salisbury, where the Saint was as well known and as dearly loved as he was at Oxford, one of the first chapels built in the new cathedral was dedicated to him. A church and college for secular canons was also built at SaUsbury, and endowed by Walter de la Wyle, and dedicated to our Saint. Later on Walter de la Wyle was made Bishop of Salisbury; and, when he was dying, he desfred that his body might be laid to rest in his cathedral, in the chapel that bore St. Edmund's name. We remember how, when St. Edmund was a teacher at Oxford, he would hear Mass every morning before he lectured ; " and that 282 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON he might do this more devoutly, he buUt a chapel tn the parish in which he then lived, in honour of the Blessed Virgin, whom he always loved with a certain special privilege of love." And we can understand, how closely that chapel was associated with his memory after his death. Doubtless many chapels and many private oratories were buUt tn his honour, and dedicated to him. And deep in the hearts of the English people grew a strong love and reverence for the gentle prelate who had devoted all his wealth of tender soUcitude and thoughtful care to preserving the liberties of the Church and the rights of the poor Catholic English folk. When Peter of Savoy had a place at the king's councU ; and when Boniface of Savoy, the queen's uncle, was Archbishop of Canterbury, and Aymer was Bishop of Winchester ; many a man turned in thought to the memory of him who had striven to save England from the foreign influence, and who would have resisted the occupation of EngUsh benefices by those who could not understand, or help by word or sym pathy, the poor neglected EngUsh peasants. History has told us, as plainly as the chroniclers of those days dared to speak of royal masters, how the king repented. With St. Edmund's help he could have done much for the peace and the prosperity of Eng land ; but the time was gone, and the opportunities were lost. He had let the man who would have reformed the grievous evils of the day, and secured peace for the people, go into exUe, and die. LASTING EFFECT OF HIS LIFE 283 But the dawn broke at last. It was after St. Edmund's death that men saw the work he would have done. It was when Eng land was bowed low under the oppression he would have averted that, slowly, but with distinct utter ance, the repentant cry was raised. And that cry was the greatest of all the offerings to his sacred memory. It was a cry full of repentance ; full, also, of recognition of all that might have been done for the Church and for the people, under his wise guidance ; and it told how selfish interests and cowardly hesitation had thwarted a great good. And as years passed, and generation succeeded generation, a keen memory of the Oxford Saint helped onward the work of reform, and the cause of the poor. At Oxford both masters and scholars gained heart amid the much toU and often weari ness of thefr daUy life by remembering how St. Edmund had won the highest honours that Alma Mater could award him, and had made himself pre eminent as a teacher, whUe yet he lived his strict religious life. And as the great army of Preachers, St. Dominic's sons, together with the devoted fol lowers of St. Francis, continued thefr grand work in England, it was as if the spirit of St. Edmund lived again in the Church. They taught the lessons he taught, of faith, and poverty, and Christian brother hood. Like him, they forgot self in their entire love for others. Like him, they held the rewards of this world, the money which their rule forbade 284 SAmT EDMUND OF ABINGDON them to touch, as dross and worthless. Like him, they toiled only to help the poor, and the ignorant, and the suffering ; and to carry the message- of Christianity to the darkest places. Like him, also, the friars, brothers of those who had gained always his friendship and love, won a position in the Oxford schools that has never been surpassed. St. Edmund died praying and weeping for the Church in England, the Roman Catholic Church, waging her warfare against sin and evU — the cease less conflict between Ught and darkness, the spfrit and the world, which for ever goes on in the very heart of the Church. St. Edmund indeed lived in times of exceeding trouble and anguish ; but his life was one long victory. And while his name was stUl an household word, and the knowledge of his life of work and love was stUl fresh tn the schools where he had taught, tn the monasteries he had visited, and through all the length and breadth of our English land, the great good that he had longed to see was granted. Once more, in the country he had prayed for, the Church was purified and defended, the poor were cherished, faith grew strong, and men's hearts found peace. In Oxford now, where a side street leads from a crowded thoroughfare, stands a Protestant church: ^ the tower is one of Oxford's oldest buildings, though the present church is comparatively modern. In the church, on the south side of the chancel, is a ' St, Michael's, MEMORIALS IN OXFORD 285 small window containing pieces of very old painted glass, which must have formerly belonged to some CathoUc church in Oxford. There St. Edmund is represented as Archbishop of Canterbury. The manuscript Lives of the Saint, in college libraries and in the Bodleian ; a very perfect im pression of his archiepiscopal seal ; 1 and that small piece of coloured glass ; are treasures saved from the past years, to preserve among the SCHOLARS AND CITIZENS OF OXFORD A MEMORY OF SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON, ' At Magdalen College. THE MIRACLES AT SAINT EDMUND'S SHRINE AT PONTIGNY Any life of St. Edmund would be sadly incomplete without some mention, however slight, of the wonderful mfracles which were wrought at his shrine at Pontigny. A full history of these miracles is given in the Fell manuscript 2, in the Bodleian Library. It has been suggested that this manuscript belonged to the Abingdon Abbey ; and, in looking through the discoloured and much-used pages, our thoughts turn once again to the old Benedictine House, where St. Edmund's memory was cherished, and where the story of the miracles was highly prized. It is impossible here to give any adequate account of them. The writer of the manuscript tells the long story in a spfrit of reverent trust in God's power. " Behold," he says, " what cannot be done, shall be done ; what is impossible, shall be made possible ; what is incurable, shaU be cured ; what cannot be healed, shaU heal ; if, in the sight of the Lord, the prayer be uttered tn a spirit of devotion ; if, in a spirit of humility, the sinner approach to present his petition." And the writer is singularly a86 THE MIRACLES 287 faithful in his description of the different miracles. Besides all the perfect and speedy cures which he relates, he tells us of a blind woman, who " received back her sight to a certain degree." A boy " found the favour of speaking, but did not receive it alto gether perfectly." A poor cripple, who trusted " tn the mercy of the Lord and tn the merits of the Blessed Father Edmund," went to Pontigny, support ing himself on two crutches, " and since then we have seen him many times, walking without crutches, but with the aid of one stick." A bUnd man was led to the gate of the abbey ; " but on him the favour of seeing was not fully bestowed." The writer tells us also of countless other cures that were related to him ; but, because no witnesses were pro duced, he could not feel satisfied about the state ments, and so " paid no heed to not a few of the same things which came to our ears, being unwilling to mix chaff with grain, or to insert doubtful stories with true histories." In the narrative of this manuscript we notice that the men who visited Pontigny went into the church and prayed at the tomb of the Saint. But the women always " remained at the door of the abbey," whUe prayers were said for them at the shrine, or waited at the door until some relics were carried out of the church, and brought near to them ; for women might not enter a Cistercian church. Some of the mfracles stand out clearly before us. — A poor woman led her husband, who was quite 2 88 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON blind, to the abbey doors. There she remained whUe a young boy guided the blind man to the tomb of the Saint, and there — it would seem — ^left him. One of those who had been appointed guardians of the tomb noticed the stranger, and asked him why he was there ; and the blind man explained the cause of his coming. " And a monk rebuked him, because he had entered the church without guardian or guide. For he believed that he had done so. And, lest he should be crushed by the crowd, or in any way hurt, he placed him apart, in a chosen place, ordering him not to go away from that place tn which he had so far a guard. And when the High Mass was celebrated, the said John began to cry aloud for joy, ' I see ! I see ! ' repeating the same words again and again. And those who stood next to him heard him tell before them the manner of his cure, explaining it before the convent and the people. They were stupefied by his sudden clamour, thinking that he had lost his reason. Whereupon they rebuked him, and he became sUent. Then he cried out far more, ' I see ! I see ! ' And then very many people, running together to him, to find out whether he could truly see, inquired what they had in thefr hands, with what movements they agitated their hands, and the fingers of their hands ; and many things similar to these, by which they might determine the certainty of the thing. And he, answering to each one his questions tn turn, as it really was, in the presence of those who stood near. THE MIRACLES 289 certified that when he began to see, a certain flash of Ught, just as it is in the time of thunder, struck his eyes after the manner of glowing lightnings in the fires of thunder." A woman had been crippled and paralysed for two years ; and her husband had taken her, driving her in a carriage, to many places in the hope that she might be cured. But it had all been of no avaU. The poor woman heard of the frequent miracles at Pontigny ; but " she feared to disturb her husband, whom she knew to be not a little troubled and needlessly harassed through her afflic tion, in many pilgrimages undertaken and many labours." When she did at last ask him to take her to the shrine at Pontigny, he " refused, saying and declaring that he had not the means to do that." But the woman, believing that St. Edmund had appeared before her, teUing her to go to Pontigny, was " strengthened in her belief," and asked her husband again and again to take her to Pontigny. " And the woman added that she would offer her clothes for sale, to provide the means. And, finally, he yielded to her prayers. Therefore, trusting in God, he led her on an horse to Pontigny, notwith standing very great trouble and poverty. And when they had come to the second door of the abbey, the woman, not without help, withdrew apart, and her husband went to the tomb of the Saint. And when he had finished his prayer, he touched the mitre with his wife's silver ring. Then, returning to the 290 SAINT EDMUND OF ABINGDON door, he handed the same ring to his wife for her to kiss. She, with a flood of tears, prostrated herself on the ground, for she could not stand, and with great devotion kissed it; and immediately the wonderful mercy of God descended on her." Many more of the mfraculous cures might be related ; but the list is too long to be given. It is the story of how the bUnd, the deaf, the dumb, the crippled, and many other afflicted ones, prayed at St. Edmund's Shrine ; and their prayers were answered ; and they rejoiced, giving PRAISE AND GLOKT TO GOD. BDKNS AND OATES, LIMITED, PEINTERS, LOHDON No. 3. 1898. Selection FROM Bums d ©ates' Catalogue of publications. Xateet publicatione. The Religious Life and the Vows. A Treatise by Monseigneur Charles Gay. Translated from the French by O.S.B. With an Introduction by the Rev. WILLIAM T. Gordon, of the Oratory. 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Crown izmo, cloth gilt. 1/6. " A very useful treatise on the Mass. The end of the Holy Sacrifice is first explained. Then the author takes occasion to point out the essential difference between the Anglican service and the Mass. Lastly, Mr. Arnold, following the course of the ritual, brings out clearly the meaning and object of each part of the sacred function. In his illustrative remarks he imparts a good deal of interesting information." — Catholic Times, BAKER, VEN. FATHER AUGUSTIN (O.S.B.). Holy Wisdom [Sancta Sophia). Directions for the Prayer of Contemplation, &c. Edited by Abbot Sweenejs D.D. New and Cheaper Edition, Crown 8vo. Handsomely bound in half leather, XX. -667 pp. 6/-. '* The thanks of the Catholic public are due to Dr. Sweeney for re-editing this famous work. It does not belong to tlie catalogue of ephemeral publications. It is of a totally different standard. . . . To lovers of prayer and meditation it will be a most acceptable guide and fnend."— Tablet. BIBLES, &c. N.B. — For full particulars of Bindings, &=€., see Illustrated Prayer Book Catalogue, sent post free on application. Holy Bible. Pocket Edition (size, 5J by 3^ inches). Embossed cloth, red edges, 2/6 ; and in leather bindings, from 4/6 to 7/6. Medium Edition (size, j\ by 4! inches). Cloth, 3/6 ; and in leather bindings, from 6/- net to 10/6 net (postage 6d.). Octavo Edition {size, 9 by 6'inches). Cloth, 6/- ; and in a great variety of leather bindings, from 8/- to 35/- net. Family Editions in quarto and folio. Prices upon application. New Testament, The. Pocket Edition. Limp cloth, 6d. (postage 2d. ). Cloth, red edges, i/-. Roan, 1/6. Paste grain, round corners, 3/-. Best calf or morocco, 4/6 each. Royal 8vo Edition (size, -9 by 6 inches). Cloth, i/- net (postage 3d.). Newt Medium Edition. Large Type. Crown 8vo (size, ^\ by 5 inches). 500 pp. Cloth, boards, gilt lettered, 2/-. Paste grain, limp, round corners, red or gold edges, 4/6. 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"The two together (' Natural Religion 'and 'Revealed Religion') supply a real want in our Catholic literature. Nothing is more common nowadays than for a priest to be asked to recommend a book, written from a Catholic point of view, on the evidence for the Christian religion. And in future he will be able to recommend Father Bowden's ' Hettinger '. . . . It may be confidently affirmed that all who have taken interest in the war against religion raised by its modern adversaries will find in Father Bowden's pages many of iheir chief difficulties helpfully dealt with." — Month. BRIDGETT, REV. T. E. (C.SS.R.). Lyra Hieratica: Poems on the Priesthood. Collected from many sources by the Rev. T. E. Bridgett, C.SS.R. Fcap. 8vo, cloth. 2/6 net (postage 3d.). "The idea of gathering an anthology of Poems on the Priesthood was a happy one, and has been happily carried out. 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"We possess in this volume a popular life of a saintly man whose good works are bearing abundant fruit, and the glory of whose life will continue to stimulate zeal in many lands. Lady Martin's translation is admirable, and the book is extremely cheap at a .shilling." — Catholic Times. Life of Princess Borghese [nee Gwendalin Talbot). Translated from the French. Crown 8vo, tastefully bound in cloth gilt. 4/-. " The life of the charming and saint-like young Englishwoman will come as a welcome surprise to the readers of a later generation, who will find how completely the spirit of Catholic faith and charity was combined in the person of Lady Gwendalin Talbot with the rarest beauty and the most accomplished talents." — Tablet. MEMORIES OF THE CRIMEA. By Sister Mary Aloysius. With Preface by the Very Rev. J. Fahey, D.D., V.G. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt. 2/6. " The venerahle Sister, upon whom Her Majesty the Queen bestowed the decora tion of the Royal Red Cross a few months ago, tells her touching story of heroic self-abnegation with a modest simplicity that is far more impressive than the most elaborate and picturesque style of descriptive writing." — Daily Telegraph. NEWMAN, CARDINAL. The Church of the Fathers. Fcap. 8vo, cloth, 361 pp. 4/-. An attempt to illustrate the tone and modes of thought, the habits and manners, of the early times of the Church. DetaHed List of Cardiizal Neivman's Works on application. NORTHCOTE, VERY REV. PROVOST (D.D.). Mary in the Gospels; or, Lectures on the History of our Blessed Lady as recorded by the Evangelists. Second Edition. Cloth gilt, 344 PP- 3/6- PERRY, REV. JOHN. Practical Sermons, for all the Sundays of the Year. First and Second Series. Si.xlh Edition. Fcap. 8vo, cloth. 3/6 each. POPE, REV. T. A. (of the Oratory). Life of St. Philip Neri. Translated from the Italian of Cardinal Capecelatro. Second and Revised Edition. Two Volumes. Crown 8vo, cloth. 12/6. " Altogether this is a most fascinating work, full of spiritual lore and historic erudition, and with all the intense interest of a remarkable biography. Take it up where you will, it is hard to lay it down. We think it one of the most completely fiatisfactory lives of a Saint that has been written in modern times." — Tablet. Selection from Burns and Oates' PORTER, ARCHBISHOP (S.J.). The Banquet of the Angels: Preparation and Thanksgiving for Holy Communion. New Edition. i8mo, blue cloth, gilt. 2/-. Also bound in a variety of handsome leather bindings suitable for First Communion memorial gifts. From 6/6 to 12/6 net. PRACTICAL MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY IN THE Year, on the Life of our Lord Jesus Christ. Chiefly for the use of Religious. By a Father of the Society of Jesus. With Imprimatur of Cardinal Manning. New Edition, Revised. In two Volumes. Cloth, red edges. 9/-. These volumes give three different daily points for consideration and application. "A work of great practical utility, and we give it our earnest recommendation." — ' tVeekly Register. PRAYER BOOKS, &c. N.B, — For full particulars of Prayer Books, see Illustrated Prayer Book Catalogue, sent post free on application. Catholic's Daily Companion. With Epistles and Gospels. Roan, r/- ; and in various leather bindings, 1/6 to 5/-. Catholic Piety. Containing a Selection of Prayers, Reflections, Meditations, and Instructions adapted to every state in life. By the late Rev. Wm. Gahan, O.S.A. 32mo Edition, with Ordinary of the Mass. Cloth, 6d. ; post free, 8d. ; roan. i/-. With Epistles and Gospels, 1/6, 2/-, 2/6, 4/6, &c. Messrs. Burns & Gates also publish two other Editions of this book. Catholic's Vade Mecum. A Select Manual of Prayers for Daily Use. Compiled from approved sources. 34th Thousand. With Epistles and Gospels. Calf, 5/6, and also in better bindings. Children's Pictorial Mass Book. (Abridged.) New Edition. Forty-three Illustrations. 2d. ; cloth, 6d. Daily Exercise. Cloth limp. 6d. Flowers of Devotion. Being a Collection of Favourite Devotions, for Public and Private use. Compiled from approved sources, and with the Imprimatur of His Eminence Cardinal Vaughan. New Edition. Leather bindings. 1/6 to 5/-. Spirit of the Sacred Heart, The. A new large-type Prayer Book. Cloth , 3/6 ; leather, 5/6 ; German calf or morocco, 8/6. Garden of the Soul. 700th Thousand. Approved by the Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster, and revised by a Priest of the Archdiocese. New Edition. In which many devotions will be found which now form a necessary part of every Catholic Prayer Book. Ck)th, 6d. ; post free, 8d. ; roan, i/-. With Epistles and Gospels, cloth, i/-'; and in leather bindings, at 1/6, 2/-, 2/6, 3/-, 3/6, 4/-, 5/-, and upwards. Messrs. Burns & Gates have just issued a new Pocket Edition of the " Garden of the Soul," size 3f by 2J inches, with red line borders, and Devotions for Mass in large type. "This Edition can now be had in various bindings, from i/- to 5/-. They also publish three other Editions. Catalogue of Publications. PRAYER BOOKS, SiC— {continued). Golden Manual. A Guide to Catholic Devotion, Public and Private, Compiled from approved sources. Fine Paper. Leather, 6/-. With Epistles and Gospels, 7/- and upwards. Imitation of Christ, Of the. By Thomas k Kempis. New Popular Edition for Distribution. Cloth, red edges, 6d. (postage, 2d. ). Leather, red edges, i/-. Superfine Pocket Edition. Fancy cloth e.\tra, with red borders, 1/6. And in leather bindings, from 2/6 to 10/-. Presentation Edition (size, 6J by 4J inches). With red border on each page. Cloth extra, 3/6. And in leather bindings, from 7/- to 15/-. Key of Heaven. A Manual of Devout Prayers. 32mo Edition. Cloth, 6d. ; post free, 8d. ; roan, i/-. With Epistles and Gospels, 1/6, 2/-, 2/6, 3/-, 4/6, &c. They also publish two Smaller Editions. Manual of Prayers for Congregational Use. As authorized by the Bishops of England and Wales. With an Appendix con taining Prayers for Mass, Confession, and Communion. Cloth, i/- ;. leather, 2/6, 5/-, and upwards. Manual of the Sacred Heart. Compiled and Translated from. approved sources. New Edition. Cloth. 2/- upwards. Missal. New and Complete Pocket Missal, with the Imprimatur of H. E. Cardinal Vaughan, in Latin and English, with all the New Offices, and the propers for Ireland, Scotland, and the Jesuits. (Size, 5» by 3i inches). Roan or French morocco, 5/- ; Rutland roan, limp, 7/- ; best calf or morocco, four styles, 8/6 each. Also in better bind ings, from 11/- to 30/- net. Missal for the Laity. Cheap Edition. 6d. ; post free, 8d. ; and in leather bindings, at 1/6, 2/6, 4/6, and 5/-. Path to Heaven. Containing Epistles, Gospels, and Hymns, &c. pioth, 2/- and 2/6 ; leather, 3/-, 4/-, 4/6, 6/-, and upwards. Prayers for the People. By the Rev. F. D. Byrne. Imperial 32mo, cloth, extra gilt. 2/-. QUARTERLY SERIES. Edited by the Jesuit Fathers. 99 Volumes- published to date. SELECTION. The Life and Letters of St. Francis Xavier. By the Rev. H. J. Coleridge, S.J. Second Edition. Two Volumes. 10/6. The Life and Letters of St. Teresa. By the Rev. H. J. Coleridge, S.J. Three Volumes. 7/6 each. The Life and Teaching of Jesus Christ in Meditations- tor every Day in the Year. By Fr. Nicholas Avancino, S.J. Two- Volumes. 10/6. The Life of St. Alonso Rodriguez. By Francis Goldie, of the Society of Jesus. 7/6. 12 Selection from Burns and Gates' •QUARTERLY SBii.\BS—(ci>nti,iuea). Letters of St. Augustine. Selected and Arranged by Mary H. Allies. 6/6. Acts of the English Martyrs, hitherto unpublished. By the Rev. John H. Pollen, S.J. 7/6. The Life of St. Francis di Geronimo, S.J. By A. M. 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