Chapter 10 FAMOUS MONKS AND MONASTERIES.

A MONK WITH A GENIUS FOR MONKERY (A.D. 400).

Arsenius the Great was a famous monk, born about 354, and had been early in life made tutor to the sons of the Emperor Theodosius; but finding it an unsatisfactory post, retired at the age of forty, resolving to cleanse his soul and fly from the society of men. He went to Egypt; and being anxious to be taken in as a monk, applied to John Colobus (the Dwarfish), who invited him to a meal to test his suitability. Arsenius was kept standing while the others sat. John then flung a biscuit to him, which Arsenius ate in a kneeling posture. "He will make a monk," said John; and he was admitted forthwith. Arsenius soon afterwards went to Scetis, and lived as a hermit. A senator once left him a legacy; but the hermit rejected it, saying, "I was dead before him." Two monks once called on Arsenius, and were received with absolute silence; they waited on another famous monk, called Moses, who received them with cordial welcome. The visitors were perplexed at two great men acting so dissimilarly; but the doubt was solved by another monk, who one day saw in a vision two boats on the Nile. One boat contained Arsenius, with the Spirit of God; the other boat contained Moses, fed with honey by angels. Arsenius was often rude to his visitors. One was a high-born Roman lady, who requested to be remembered in his prayers; but the monk brusquely told her that he hoped he might be able to forget her. She complained of this to Theophilus, who told her she was but a woman, and the old man would pray for her soul notwithstanding. Arsenius once took a thievish monk into his cell to cure him, but found it impossible. He used often to say that he had been sorry for having spoken, but never for having been silent. When his end drew near, he was seen to weep, which made the other monks ask, "Are you then, father, afraid?" "Truly," said Arsenius, "the fear that is with me in this hour has been with me ever since I became a monk."

ST. NINIAN, THE SCOTTISH SAINT (A.D. 400).

St. Ninian was a Briton, born about 360, of Christian parents, and of a grave and earnest disposition. After much searching of the Scriptures, he went to Rome in order to know more of the truth. When arrived there, he wept over the relics of the Apostles, and the Pope received him graciously. After spending some years there, it was made clear to the Pope that Western Britain was much in need of Christian enlightenment, and Ninian was consecrated a bishop, and sent there as the first bishop of his nation. On his way he visited the famous St. Martin of Tours, the demolisher of Pagan temples. The two saints were mutually pleased and edified. They were described as two cherubims, from the intimate understanding and mutual light displayed by them. Ninian, on returning to Scotland, erected a church at Whithorn, in Galloway, and he was anxious to imitate what he had seen at Tours, and begged the loan of masons from that place, and the church was dedicated to St. Martin. Ninian became there a great preacher and evangelist, and the miracles he performed spread his fame everywhere. If he read the Psalter in the open air, the shower would avoid touching him and his book. If thieves tried to steal his cattle, an angel drove them away. One of Ninian's scholars, being afraid of a whipping, fled to the seashore, but took care to steal his master's pastoral staff; and this staff, after the youth had prayed, guided his boat in safety, and was both rudder and mast and sail by turns. The saint converted the Picts far and near, and was succeeded by St. Mungo and St. Columba. His relics also were said to continue to work miracles long after he was dead.

ST. MUNGO, AN EAST LOTHIAN SAINT (A.D. 580).

While St. Servanus, an early bishop of the Scots, was settled at Culross, near Loch Leven, one Kentigern, who had been born about 514, under mysterious circumstances, at a seaport in East Lothian, was taken to the bishop by the shepherds, and said to be a child of promise. On seeing the child, Servanus smiled welcome, carefully instructed him, and gave him the name of Mun Cu or Mungdu (the Gaelic words for "Dear one"), since named Mungo. The boy soon began to work miracles by restoring birds and dead bodies to life. This gift excited the jealousy of the other pupils, and caused Mungo to flee. He went to Dumfries, and thereafter settled at Glasgow. The King and clergy soon afterwards elected him as bishop, an office then vacant. He lived on bread and butter and cheese, abstaining from flesh and wine. He was clothed in a rough hair shirt, and slept every night in a stone trough, which was in shape like a coffin, strewed with ashes, and a stone for a pillow. Every morning he went and stood in the neighbouring stream up to the neck, however cold it might be, till he had chanted the Psalter, after which he came out clean and pure as a dove washed in milk. He had the gift of silence, and spoke seldom, yet weightily. He could scarcely help working miracles. One day he went to plough, but had no oxen at hand; and a wolf and deer passing that way, he hailed them, and they both came and quietly entered under the yoke. After he had given away all his corn to the poor, he would sow the land with sand, and great crops grew up. One day he asked the King to supply him with corn, but met with an indignant refusal, whereon the river Clyde rose and swept away the King's barn, and floated the contents up the Molendinar burn, and they landed near the saint's dwelling. The King in a passion once lifted his foot to strike the saint, and the foot became gangrened, and the King died soon after. The saint went seven journeys to Rome, where he was highly valued. The Queen once lost a ring, which had been thrown into the Clyde, and she applied to St. Mungo, who caused a salmon to be caught which had swallowed the ring. He died at the age of one hundred and eighty-five, full of years, and in the odour of sanctity.

A MONK CURED OF ABSENTING HIMSELF FROM PRAYERS (A.D. 540).

It is related in the Life of St. Benedict, born in 480, who founded the famous monasteries for monks, that in one of these monasteries there was a certain monk, who could not endure to abide with the brethren during the time of prayer, but the moment they knelt down went out, and with a wandering mind betook himself to things purely transitory and worldly. And this being told to the man of God, and admonition proving unavailing, Benedict visited the monastery; and when the psalms were ended, and the brethren knelt down to pray, he saw a little black boy drawing the monk referred to out of the church. And pointing it out to the superior, and the latter not being able to see the boy, "Let us pray," said Benedict, "that you may." And after two days Maurus, a pupil of Benedict, saw him; but still the superior could not. And on the third day, after prayer, Benedict found the monk standing outside the door; and striking him with his staff in reproof of the blindness of his heart, from that day forth he was no more troubled by that black boy, but stayed out the prayers patiently with his brethren.

THE DEATH OF ST. BENEDICT (A.D. 543).

St. Benedict, the patriarch of the Western monks and founder of the Benedictine order, died in 543, and his biographers and contemporaries thus described his death: "Shortly before the decease of St. Benedict, standing at the window by night and praying to God, suddenly he perceived a great light, and (as he thereafter declared) the whole world was brought together before his eyes, collected as under a single ray of the sun. For his spirit being dilated and rapt into God, he saw without difficulty everything that is beneath God. And at the hour of his death there appeared unto two of the brethren, then absent and apart from each other, the self-same vision; for they saw a path stretching from his cell up to heaven, strewed with robes of silk and with numberless lamps, burning all along it, ascending towards the east. And, behold, a man of majestic mien and in seemly attire stood over against them, and asked whose that path was. And they confessing that they knew not, he answered, 'This is the path through which Benedict, the beloved of God, is ascending to heaven.' And thereby they knew of his decease."

ST. COLUMBA OF IONA (A.D. 597).

Columba, who had first an Irish name, was born about 518 at Gartan, in Donegal, of good family. After his ordination he entered the monastery of Glasnevin, near Dublin. He soon after founded the monasteries of Derry and of Durrow. He determined to be a missionary, after engaging in some family feuds and being tired of fighting. About 563 he left Ireland, then called Scotia, and, accompanied by twelve disciples, took to the sea in a wicker wherry covered with hides, leaving the result to Providence. They first landed at Colonsay, then crossed to Iona. Two savage kings having fought a battle, the successful one gave him the island to settle in. He made an early visit to the Pictish King; and though at first rudely treated, he made a conquest and obtained speedy honours. He soon became known also as a worker of miracles. One day the inhabitants were much alarmed at the visits of a sea monster that lived in the river Ness and roared terribly; the saint raised his hand, and making the sign of the cross in the air, called on the brute to desist, and, strange to say, it vanished amid the breathless amazement of the crowds that were watching it. The saint and his followers settled in the island of Iona, and lived somewhat in the fashion of a monastery, but they acted as missionaries. One day a stranger visited Iona in disguise; and joining Columba in celebrating the Eucharist, the latter suddenly looking the stranger in the face as he stood at the altar, said, "Christ bless thee, brother, consecrate alone, for I know thou art a bishop." On hearing this the stranger wondered exceedingly at the second sight of the saint, and all the bystanders gave glory to God for the honour done by the visit of a bishop, a personage then unknown in that quarter. Columba died in 597 as he was praying at the altar, and the other monks saw the church filled with a strange light, for the saint was leaving an example of piety to all future ages.

ST. COLUMBA PUNISHING A SAVAGE CHIEF (A.D. 520).

It is related by Adamnan, the biographer of St. Columba, that in the early days, when Columba was in deacon's orders, going about in Leinster along with his tutor Gemman, a brutal chief was pursuing a young girl who fled before him on the level plain. As she chanced to notice the aged Gemman as he sat reading, she ran straight towards him. The old man being alarmed at this spectacle, called to Columba, who was reading at some distance, to help him in defending the girl. But the brutal chief on coming up to them, without taking the least notice of their presence, in his rage stabbed the child as she was hiding herself under their cloaks, and leaving her dead at their feet, turned to go back. At this the old man, turning to Columba, said, "How long, O holy youth, shall God the just Judge allow this horrid crime and this contempt of our faith to go unpunished?" Then the saint at once pronounced this sentence: "Mark well, that at the very instant, when the soul of this young innocent ascends to heaven, shall the soul of the murderer descend into hell." Scarcely had Columba spoken the word, when the murderer of innocent blood, like Ananias before Peter, fell down dead on the spot. The news of this awful retribution soon spread through the land; it made the name of the holy deacon a praise and protection to the innocent, and a sure avenger of every brutal oppression on the part of those savage chiefs who then ruled the land.

DEATH OF ST. COLUMBA IN IONA (A.D. 597).

The biographer of St. Columba of Iona, who died in 597, aged seventy-seven, after thirty-four years' missionary work, says that on feeling the hand of death he was at his own request carried out of doors in a car to visit the working brethren, and then he warned them of his early departure, and blessed them and the island and its inhabitants. On the following Saturday, he told the friends that that would be the last day of his life. He begged them to take him out, that he might bless the barn and the crops of corn which were the supplies of their food. On going back to the monastery, the old white pack-horse, that used to carry the milk-pails, strange to say, came up to the saint, laid its head on his bosom, and uttered plaintive cries, like a human being, also shedding tears. The attendant began to drive away the beast; but the saint forbade him, saying, "Let it alone; let it pour out its bitter grief. Lo, thou who hast a rational soul canst know nothing of my departure-only expect what I have just told you; but to this brute beast, devoid of reason, the Creator Himself hath evidently in some way made it known that its master is going to leave it." And saying this, he blessed the poor work-horse, which turned away from him in sadness. The saint then ascended a hillock overhanging the monastery, and stood musing and looking round, and said that, small as that place was, it would be held in after-times in great honour by kings and foreign rulers and saints of other Churches. On returning to the monastery, he sat in his cell and transcribed part of the thirty-third Psalm. The rest of the night he lay on the bare ground, with a stone for his pillow. He discoursed to the brethren on the blessing of peace, harmony, and charity among themselves. When the bell rang at midnight, he rose quickly and knelt before the altar, and a heavenly light was noticed to surround him; and the brethren knew that his soul was departing; and after signifying to them his holy benediction, he breathed his last. The matin hymns being then finished, his sacred body was carried, the brethren chanting psalms; and being wrapped in fine clean linen, was buried after three days and nights. A violent storm had been raging for these days, preventing any person crossing the sound; but after the burial the storm ceased, and all was calm.

THE MONK COLUMBAN (A.D. 615).

The monk Columban, who died 615, was held in great honour by Thierry II., the King of Burgundy, where his convents were situated. The abbot took on himself at times to reprove the King's voluptuous life; but the grandmother of the King took offence, and schemed till she got Columban banished. In his journeying through France, he arrived with some followers at the city of Nantes, and was meditating in his cell, when a beggar came before it. Columban caused the last measure of meal to be served out of his stores to the hungry man. The next two days the abbot had to contend with want himself, yet he kept up his spirits, full of faith and hope, when suddenly some one knocked at the door, and this person turned out to be the servant of a pious female of the city, who had sent a considerable supply of corn and wine for him. Afterwards he went to Italy, and established in the vicinity of the Apennines the famous monastery of Bobbio, and there the abbot found rest and ended his days. One of his sayings was, "If thou hast conquered thyself, thou has conquered all things." He was a disciplinarian among his monks. He said to them, "A monk must learn humility and patience, silent obedience and gentleness. Let him not do his own will; let him eat what is offered to him, let him fulfil the day's work prescribed to him, let him go to bed weary, and let him be taught to get up at the time appointed."

ST. AIDAN OF LINDISFARNE (A.D. 651).

St. Aidan, whose death made such an impression on the youthful Cuthbert, was the most shining character among the early British Christians, a man of the utmost gentleness, piety, and moderation. He came from Iona in 635, settled in Northumbria, and became Bishop of Lindisfarne. He established a training school for twelve English boys, one of whom was St. Chad. He used to retire occasionally to complete solitude in Farne Island, and there fast. He was an earnest missionary, and used to travel on foot and get into conversation with any fellow-traveller, rich or poor. As he walked along with them, they used to meditate on texts or recite psalms. Oswald was then king; and being himself a saint, both worked amicably together. Oswald often invited Aidan to the royal table; but the saint, after taking very little refreshment, was always called away to some prayer meeting or mission work of an urgent kind. One Easter Sunday he took luncheon with the King, and they were just about to help themselves to some dainties, when a thane rushed in and said that there was a mob of famished people at the gates begging for alms. Oswald at once ordered the dish of untasted dainties to be carried away and divided among them, and the saint was so charmed that he seized the King's right hand and said, "May this hand never decay!" That hand never decayed, and was kept with pride in a silver casket for four centuries later by the monks of Durham. Another time King Oswy gave a fine horse to Aidan, on which he might ride during his mission work, so as to save much time; but soon afterwards, a beggar man coming up, and Aidan having no change in his pocket, dismounted and gave horse and all the trappings to the beggar instead. The King hearing of this, asked Aidan why he did such a thing, and the answer was, "Surely a mare is nothing to compare with that son of God?" The King at first thought this no answer at all, and was moody; but on reflection he relented, and threw himself at the feet of Aidan, saying he would never again dispute as to what or how much should be bestowed on sons of God. So they were good friends ever after. Aidan was the glory of his age, and died in 651, and his relics long worked miracles.

ST. CHAD SUBJECT TO THE FEAR OF THE LORD (A.D. 673).

St. Chad was one of the twelve pupils of St. Aidan of Lindisfarne, and in due time was recommended by Archbishop Theodore as Bishop of Lichfield. St. Chad was of an ascetic and retiring manner, and went his rounds on foot; but Theodore insisted that he should ride, and gave him a horse, and with his own hands lifted him up to mount. Chad was a busy and careful bishop, but pre-eminently a grave and serious man, and dwelt most on the awful side of religion. Bede says, "He was ever subject to the fear of the Lord, and in all his actions mindful of his end." Everything in Nature was viewed as a call to sacred employments. If it was a high wind during the service, Chad would stop his reading and implore the Divine mercy for all mankind. If it became a storm or thunder and lightning, he would repair to the church and give himself up with a fixed mind to prayer and the recitation of psalms until the weather cleared up. If questioned as to this, he would quote the Psalmist's words, "The Lord thundered out of heaven," and he spoke of the last great fire, and of the Lord coming in the clouds with great power and majesty to judge the quick and the dead. Chad's death was remarkable, and occurred during a pestilence which swept away many of his flock. One night his faithful monk, Owin, when at work in the fields, heard a sweet sound as of angelic melody, which came from the south-east and entered and filled the oratory where Chad then was, and next it rose heavenward. As Owin was wondering what this could mean, he noticed Chad open the window and clap his hands, as if beckoning to some one. Owin entered, and was told to summon the brethren; and Chad addressing them seriously, and charging them to carry on the good work steadily, told them his end was near, for the lovable guest who had summoned so many brethren had come to him that day. He gave them his blessing, and told Owin privately that the voices he had heard were those of angels come to summon him to his heavenly reward, and that they would return for him in seven days. So on the seventh day he died, and was always called the "most glorious" St. Chad.

DEATH OF ST. HILDA, ABBESS OF WHITBY (A.D. 680).

St. Hilda, who died in 680, was of the royal family of Northumbria, and devoted her life to the monastic profession, and taught the strict observance of justice, piety, and chastity. She was usually called mother, in token of her piety and grace. For the last eight years of her life she was sorely tried by a long sickness, accompanied with fever; but during all that time she never omitted either to give thanks to her Maker or to teach both publicly and privately the flock committed to her. When at the last she felt her end to be near, she received the viaticum of the Holy Communion; and then, having summoned to her the handmaids of Christ who were in the same monastery, she continued admonishing them, all the while she perceived with joy her own death approaching. On that same night the Omnipotent Lord deigned to reveal by a manifest vision her death to another monastery, where a holy woman, named Begu, had dedicated her virginity to the Lord for thirty years. Begu was then resting in the dormitory, when she suddenly heard in the air the well-known sound of the bell by which they were wont to be aroused when any one of them was called forth from the world. She noticed a great light in the heavens; and looking earnestly at it, she saw the soul of Hilda, the handmaid of the Lord, borne to heaven by attendant and conducting angels. Begu immediately arose and told her abbess how Hilda, the mother of them all, had just then departed from this world, ascending with exceeding light, having angels for guides to the abodes of eternal light, and the society of the celestial citizens. Yet these monasteries were distant from each other thirteen miles.

THE ABBEY AND MONKS OF ST. GALL (A.D. 680).

The abbey of St. Gall was founded by St. Gallus, an Irish monk, who left his monastery in Belfast Lough in the seventh century to preach the Gospel on the Continent; and he settled near Lake Constance, on the banks of the Steinach, then a wilderness. He taught the savage tribes the arts of peace and civilised them, and the cell which he inhabited began to be visited by pilgrims, and after his death miracles were wrought at his tomb. This led to an abbey being founded, which became the most famous as well as being the oldest in Germany. It was the asylum of learning from the eighth to the tenth centuries, where the classics were most studied and copied. The monks of St. Gall in time grew ambitious, and became imbued with a military disposition, and used to sally forth sword in hand to conquer (as narrated ante, p. 224). Their wealth, from the donations of pilgrims, also turned their heads, and their military campaigns embroiled them with the authorities; and in the fifteenth century the inhabitants of the neighbouring town obtained the mastery, and soon afterwards the estates were secularised. The library is still exhibited as a famous collection of old manuscripts.

THE VENERABLE BEDE, MONK AND HISTORIAN (A.D. 735).

Bede, the most valuable of the early historians of English ecclesiastical affairs, who died in 735, gives this account of himself: "Thus much of the ecclesiastical history of the Britons, and especially of the English nation, as far as I could learn, either by the writings of the ancients or from the tradition of our ancestors, or by my own knowledge, I, Bede, a servant of God, and priest of the monastery of the blessed Apostles Peter and Paul, which is at Wearmouth and Jarrow, have composed. And being born in the territory of that monastery, when I was seven years old, I was given to be educated to the most reverend Abbot Benedict and afterwards to Ceolfrid; and having spent my whole life since that time in the same monastery, I have devoted myself entirely to the study of Scripture, and at intervals between the observance of regular discipline and the daily care of singing in church, I always took delight in learning, or teaching, or writing. In the nineteenth year of my life, I received deacon's orders; in the thirtieth, those of the priesthood,-both by the ministry of the most reverend Bishop John, and by order of Abbot Ceolfrid. From which time of my becoming a priest, till the fifty-ninth year of my age, I have made it my business, for the use of me and mine, to make brief notes on Holy Scriptures from the writings of venerable Fathers, or even to add something to their interpretations, in accordance with their views on the beginning of Genesis and part of Samuel." Bede died aged sixty-two.

ST. CUTHBERT ADMITTED MONK (A.D. 651-758).

Cuthbert was a shepherd-boy in 651, watching his flock on the Lammermuir Hills, by the side of the river Leader, not far from the ancient town of Lauder. One night, as his companions were sleeping and he was praying, on a sudden he saw a long stream of light break through the darkness of the night, and in the midst of it a company of the heavenly host descended to the earth, and having received among them a spirit of surpassing brightness, returned without delay to their heavenly home. The young man beloved of God was struck with awe at this sight, and stimulated to encounter the honours of spiritual warfare, and to earn for himself eternal life and happiness. He began to offer up praise and thanksgiving, and called on his companions to join. He then told them he had just seen the door of heaven opened, and there was led in thither amidst an angelic company the spirit of some holy man, who now, for ever blessed, beholds the glory of the heavenly mansion and Christ its King, while they were still grovelling amid this earthly darkness. He said he thought it must have been some holy bishop, or some favoured one of the company of the faithful, whom he saw thus carried into heaven amidst so much splendour by that large angelic choir. As Cuthbert said these words, the hearts of the shepherds were kindled up to reverence and praise. When the morning came, he found that Aidan, Bishop of the Church of Lindisfarne, a man of exalted piety, had ascended to the heavenly kingdom at the very moment of the vision. Immediately, therefore, he delivered over the sheep that he was feeding to their owners, and determined forthwith to enter a monastery. He went to Melrose, the monastery two miles east of the present abbey, where Boisil was prior, and being admitted, Boisil at once saw the future greatness of this young novice, who lived a holy life there for ten years more. Some other accounts state that St. Cuthbert was of Irish parentage, and was brought by his mother when a child into Britain.

ST. CUTHBERT AS MONK BISHOP (A.D. 687).

St. Cuthbert, after leaving the monastery at Melrose, became an eloquent preacher in Galloway and that neighbourhood, and in 664 was made prior of Lindisfarne, in the Farne Islands, where to this day the little shells found only on that coast are called St. Cuthbert's shells, and the sea birds, his favourite friends, are called St. Cuthbert's birds. He built a cell, and pilgrims from all parts flocked to ask his counsel and his blessing during eight years, when he was chosen Bishop of Lindisfarne. He took special interest in the monasteries of nuns, of which there were several in his diocese, such as Coldingham and Whitby. When not visiting officially his charges, he retired to his cell at Farne. When his last days drew near, in 687, he directed his brethren to wrap his body after his death in the linen which the Abbess Verca had given to him, and to bury it, as they so earnestly desired, in their church at Lindisfarne. "Keep peace with one another," were his last words, "and ever guard the Divine gift of charity. Maintain concord with other servants of Christ. Despise not any of the household of faith who come to you seeking hospitality; but receive, and entertain, and dismiss them with friendliness and affection. And do not think yourselves better than others of the same faith and manner of life; only with such as err from the unity of Catholic peace have no communion." These were his last words. His remains were taken to Lindisfarne, where, amid the prayers and solemn chants of the brethren, they were interred in a stone sarcophagus on the right of the altar in St. Peter's Church. Eleven years later the body, still uncorrupt, was taken from the tomb, wrapped in fresh linen, and placed in a shrine of wood which was laid on the floor of the sanctuary. Great sanctity was shown to the saint's relics by King Alfred, King Canute, and William the Conqueror. His own copy of the Gospels is still preserved in the British Museum as a fine specimen of Celtic art. The cathedral of Durham was at a later date dedicated to his memory, and in the twelfth century his relics were transferred to that place; and in 1537, when his shrine was plundered, his body was found still to be uncorrupt.

THE BODY OF ST. CUTHBERT CARRIED ABOUT BY MONKS FOR SEVEN YEARS (A.D. 875).

When the Danes were ravaging the north of England in 875, causing great terror among all the monasteries, Eardulph, Bishop of Lindisfarne, in which church the body of St. Cuthbert rested, and Abbot Edred took suddenly the resolution to carry away the body for safety. When the people living near heard of this, they also resolved to leave their houses, and with their wives and children accompany the sacred charge, thinking that life without the saint's protection would be unsafe. This company traversed nearly the whole country, carrying the body with them; and being after a time advised to seek refuge in Ireland, sailed from the mouth of the Derwent, in Cumberland, after taking a distressing farewell of their friends, who stood watching on the shore. A dreadful storm overtook the ship, and a copy of the Evangelists adorned with gold and jewels fell overboard into the sea. The vessel was in such distress that the party turned back, and landed at the place from which they started. They suffered many trials, and it is said for seven years they were in charge of the holy body and fleeing from the barbarians. At length the saint himself appeared in a vision, and told the monk Hunred where to search for the book when the tide was out, and also where to find a horse to draw the carriage on which the body lay. The book was duly found, and its leaves were all sound and perfect. And when a bridle was held up before the horse, it ran up to the monk and offered itself to be yoked. The body was afterwards carried to Chester-le-Street, the second see of the diocese of Durham, and there deposited; and on account of the sanctity thereby imparted, the King settled extensive lands on the Church for ever. King Alfred confirmed this grant, and on one occasion St. Cuthbert appeared to King Alfred as he was sitting reading the Scriptures, while his men were out fishing, and not only promised an abundant supply to their nets, but encouraged him to persevere in routing the Danes, all which promises were duly fulfilled.

DEATHBED OF THE VENERABLE BEDE (A.D. 735).

St. Cuthbert, pupil of Bede, wrote to a friend this account of the last days of his master: "Bede was much troubled with shortness of breath, yet without pain, for a fortnight before the day of our Lord's resurrection; but he passed his time cheerful and rejoicing, giving thanks to Almighty God every day and every night, nay every hour, and daily read lessons to us his disciples; and whatever remained of the day he spent in singing psalms. He also passed all the night awake in joy and thanksgiving, except so far as a very slight slumber prevented it; but he no sooner awoke than he presently repeated his wonted exercises, and ceased not to give thanks to God with uplifted hands. O truly happy man! He chanted the sentence of St. Paul the apostle, 'It is dreadful to fall into the hands of the living God,' and much more out of Holy Writ, wherein also he admonished us to think of our last hour and to shake off the sleep of the soul; and being learned in our poetry, he quoted some things in it. He also sang antiphons, according to our custom and his own, one of which is, 'O King of glory, Lord of all power, who triumphing this day did ascend above all the heavens, do not leave us orphans, but send down upon us the Spirit of truth which was promised by the Father! Hallelujah!' And when he came to the words 'do not leave us orphans,' he burst into tears and wept much; and an hour after he began to repeat what he had commenced, and we hearing it, mourned with him. By turns we read and by turns we wept; nay, we wept always while we read. In such joy we passed a period of fifty days. During these days he laboured to compose two works, well worthy to be remembered-the translation of the Gospel of St. John, and some collections from the 'Book of Notes' of Bishop Isidorus. When the Tuesday before the ascension of our Lord came, he began to suffer more in his breath, and a small swelling appeared in his feet. But he passed all that day, and dictated cheerfully, and now and then among other things said, 'Go on quickly. I know not how long I shall hold out, and whether my Maker will not soon take me away.' When the morning appeared, he ordered us to write with all speed what he had begun, and this done, we walked in procession with the relics of the saints till the third hour, as the custom of that day was. There was one of us, however, with him who said to him, 'Most dear master, there is still one chapter wanting. Do you think it troublesome to be asked any more questions?' He answered, 'It is no trouble. Take your pen, and dip and write fast.' Which he did. But at the ninth hour he said to me, 'I have some little articles of value in my chest, such as pepper, napkins, and incense; run quickly and bring the priests of our monastery to me, that I may distribute among them the gifts which God has bestowed on me. The rich in this world are bent on giving gold and silver and other precious things. But I, with much charity and joy, will give my brothers that which God has given to me.' He spoke to every one of them, admonishing and entreating them that they would carefully say masses and prayers for him, which they readily promised; but they all mourned and wept, especially because they said that they should no more see his face in this world. They rejoiced, however, because he said, 'The time is come that I shall return to Him who formed me out of nothing. I have lived long; my merciful Judge well foresaw my life for me; the time of my dissolution draws nigh, for I desire to die and be with Christ.' Having said much more, he passed the day joyfully till the evening; but the boy above mentioned said, 'Dear master, there is yet one sentence not written.' He answered, 'Write quickly.' Soon after the boy said, 'The sentence is now written.' He replied, 'It is well; you have said the truth. It is ended. Let my head rest on your hands, for it is a great satisfaction to me to sit opposite my holy place, in which I was wont to pray, that I may also, sitting, call upon my Father.' And thus on the floor of his little cell, singing, 'Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost,' when he had named the Holy Ghost, he breathed his last, and so departed to the heavenly kingdom. All who were present at the death of the blessed Father said they had never seen any other person expire with so much devotion and in so tranquil a frame of mind. For, as you have heard, so long as the soul animated his body, he never ceased to give thanks to the true and living God, with outstretched hands exclaiming, 'Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost,' with other spiritual ejaculations."

A WARRIOR DUKE BECOMES MONK (A.D. 806).

Duke William was commander of the first cohort in Charlemagne's army, and fought many battles with the infidels and subdued the Saracens, and then founded the monastery of St. Saviour, in the Herault. Afterwards, in 806, he disclosed to the King his desire of becoming a monk, a resolution which caused much grief to all the Court. He rejected the liberal gifts which were then offered him, but only asked for and obtained a reliquary containing a portion of the wood of the holy cross. It had been sent to Charles by Zechariah, Patriarch of Jerusalem. A crowd of nobles forced their way into his presence and implored William not to desert them. But being inflamed with a Divine ardour, he abandoned all he held dear, and amid tears and groans took his farewell. When he reached the town of Brives, he offered his armour on the altar of St. Julian, the martyr, hanging his helmet and splendid shield over the martyr's tomb in the church, and suspending outside the door his quiver and bow, with his long lance and two-edged sword, as an offering to God. He then set forth in the guise of a pilgrim of Christ, and passed through Aquitaine to the monastery which he had built a short time before in the wilderness. He drew near to it with naked feet, and with haircloth about his body. When the brethren heard of his approach, they met him at the cross-roads, and forming a triumphal procession against his will, conducted him to the abbey. He then made his offering of the reliquary more precious than gold, with gold and silver vessels and all kinds of ornaments; and having proffered his petition, gave up the world with all its pomps and enticements, was made a monk, and became another person in Christ Jesus. (See another account, ante, p. 215.)

HOW THE WARRIOR DUKE BEHAVED AS MONK (A.D. 806).

When Duke William, in 806, became a monk in the abbey of St. Saviour, in the Herault, he at once showed his delight in every lowly task. He set about making a good road up the steep cliffs, and cut through rocks to make a causeway, using hammer and pickaxe like a day labourer. He also planted vineyards and fruit-trees and laid out gardens. He laboured in all ways with his own hands in true humility. He often prostrated himself before the abbot and brethren, beseeching that for God's mercy he might be allowed still greater self-renunciation and hard work. He sought the lowest offices in the monastery, and the meaner the toil the more welcome. He would gladly act as a beast of burden for the brethren in the Lord's house. He who had been a mighty duke was not ashamed to mount a poor donkey with a load of bottles, or carry fagots and pitchers of water, or light the fires, or wash the bowls and platters. When the hour of refection came, he would spread the table for the monks in due order, and remain to watch the house, fasting till the meal was over. Once, when the wood for baking was exhausted, he was forced to use twigs and straw, which choked the oven, and was chidden for his delay. He had nothing with which to clear out the ashes; but, rather than be late, he invoked Christ, and making the sign of the cross, entered the oven himself and used his hands, and neither was he scorched while throwing out hot cinders, nor was his cowl singed. After this, the abbot and brethren consulting, forbade his engaging in servile work, and allotted him a suitable cell, so that he might apply his leisure to prayer and holy meditation. Thus, by degrees, William arrived at great perfection in every virtue. He predicted the day of his death, and when it occurred there was heard in the air a loud and strange tolling of bells, though no human hands touched them.

THE SWISS ABBEY OF EINSIEDELN AND ITS PILGRIMS (A.D. 860).

The second most famous monastery in Switzerland is Einsiedeln, which rises high on an undulating plain, and was founded in the days of Charlemagne. A monk named Meinrad lived at that time, and had resolved to spend the rest of his life in the wilderness devoted to prayer and to the faithful guardianship of a little black image of the Virgin, which had been given to him by Hildegarde, the abbess of Zurich. In 861 this holy man was murdered by two robbers, who hoped to escape, but were pursued by two pet ravens of the saint, which flapped their wings and haunted them till the men reached Zurich, when notice was taken of the strange sight, and the men were convicted and executed. The fame of the ravens and the saint became published, and pilgrims and hermits flocked to the spot where the saint had lived, and a Benedictine community built an abbey and church there. They got a bull of Pope Pius VIII., authorising the consecration of the church, and the bishop of Constance was about to proceed with the consecration, when, on the night before, he was aroused by sounds of angelic minstrels, and it was announced by a voice from heaven that there was no need to go on with the sacred rite, as it had already been consecrated by the powers of heaven and by the Saviour in person. The Pope was satisfied that this was a true miracle, and granted plenary indulgence to all pilgrims who should repair to this shrine of Our Lady of the Hermits. From that time, during nine centuries, there has been a constant series of pilgrimages, and the wealth of the monastery has grown immensely, the abbot being a prince of the Holy Roman Empire. The French, in 1798, stripped the chapel of its holy image; but the monks were equal to the occasion, and produced a duplicate, which they said was the original. Another attraction to pilgrims is a fountain with fourteen jets, from one of which it is believed the Saviour once drank. Here pilgrims and worshippers swarm, and rejoice in being near so hallowed a place.

ST. MEINRAD, A MONK OF THE ALPS (A.D. 890).

This St. Meinrad, born about 863, when a young monk yearned to live alone on the serene heights of the Alps, and he fixed on Mount Etzell, about six miles from Lake Zurich. The pine forest behind, though frequented by wolves, did not deter him. He tore himself from his brethren, and with one pupil set out. He took nothing with him but his missal, a book of instructions on the Gospels, the rule of St. Benedict, and the works of Cassian. He fixed his eyes on the glittering pinnacles of ice and snow, and settled down in solemn silence, with nothing but the creaking of the pines and the chatter of the magpie within hearing. He made a little pine house interlaced with boughs, and a widow who entertained him at a half-way house built for him a little chapel and oratory. The mysterious noises of this lofty abode, and its grand panorama of shining realms and flitting colours, made his hut a constant pleasure. But pilgrims found him out and began to increase, so that he had to leave it and retire far into the forest. He took with him two young ravens to be the companions of his solitude. One day, after he had been some years enjoying perfect solitude, a carpenter in search of wood discovered his cell and gave him a present of a little statue of the Virgin, which became miraculous. Pilgrims found this out, and gave him presents till he was thought to be rich. Then two robbers murdered him; but owing to their being pursued by the ravens, they were suspected, then watched, and then convicted, as already stated.

CROYLAND ABBEY BURNED BY THE DANES (A.D. 870).

In 870, the Danes having defeated the English near Croyland Abbey, the fugitives reaching that place and relating the news caused the greatest terror. The abbot and monks, confounded at the disaster, at once resolved to keep with them the elder monks and children in the abbey, in the hope of exciting pity, and to send off all the younger brethren with the relics and jewels and the body of St. Guthlac by water. Among their treasures was a large silver table, which, with some chalices, they threw into the well of the cloister; but the table was so long that it could not be concealed, and so had to be buried under ground. The younger monks carried off the rest of the property into the woods. Meanwhile the abbot and monks clothed themselves in their vestments, and entering the choir, chanted the services of the hours, and went through all the Psalms of David, after which the abbot himself said the High Mass. When the Mass was finished, and the abbot and attendants had communicated, the Danes burst into the church and slew the venerable abbot on the altar. The rest of the brethren in vain endeavoured to escape, and were put to the torture, so that they might reveal the place where the treasure was concealed. One little boy, aged ten, who was under the charge of the prior, seeing his patron about to be put to death, nobly entreated that he might be allowed to perish with him. Fortunately one of the Danish earls took a fancy to the boy and saved him. But all the monks were slain, and the brutal pirates broke into the tombs and monuments of saints in search of treasure. When disappointed, they collected all the dead bodies of their victims and set fire to the monastery, and all were consumed. Next day the Danes proceeded to Peterborough, and broke into the abbey, destroyed the altars and tombs, and burned the books and charters, reducing the whole to a heap of ashes, which smouldered for a fortnight.

NUNS OF COLDINGHAM CUTTING OFF THEIR NOSES (A.D. 870).

During one of the marauding expeditions of the Danes in 870, when they fixed their headquarters at York and ravaged all the country round, brutally killing men, women, and children, the monks and nuns were especial objects of their fury, and all lived in terror of a visit. In Coldingham, an abbey in Yorkshire, the lady abbess, foreseeing, from the proximity of the enemy, that her own house would shortly be attacked, and valuing her honour more than life itself, called the nuns into the chapter-house. There she made to them a touching address, setting forth the brutal passions of the Danes and their own imminent peril. All promised to listen to her advice and implicitly follow it. Upon this the abbess, seizing a knife, cut off with it her nose and upper lip, and the whole sisterhood immediately redeemed their promise by mutilating themselves in the same manner. The next day the Danish troops invaded the monastery, and seeing the horrible spectacle, recoiled from their victims and gave orders that the house should be fired. This command was immediately executed, and the abbey was burned to ashes, together with the abbess and nuns, who thus nobly suffered martyrdom rather than risk a worse fate.

THE MONKS OF CLUNY (A.D. 909).

After the Council of Trosley in 909 expressed a resolution as to the disorderly life carried on in monasteries, where lay abbots, with wives and children, soldiers and dogs, occupied the cloisters of monks and nuns, some wealthy chiefs sought after new foundations. Duke William of Auvergne invited Berno, abbot of Beaune, to take charge of a new institution at Cluny. Berno began with twelve monks, and soon showed his skill in reforms. He required his monks at the end of meals to gather up and swallow all the crumbs of bread. This rule was complained of; but a dying monk one day exclaimed in horror that he saw the devil was holding up in accusation against him a bag of crumbs which he had been unwilling to swallow. This glimpse of the future terrified the other monks into submission. The monks of Cluny were also obliged to observe periods of perfect silence, and this was also complained of; for they dare not shout, even if they saw their horses stolen, or if they were seized and carried to prison by the Northmen. The monks were bled five times a year, as their only safeguard against disease; and when once two monks entreated the abbot to allow them to take some medicine, he told them angrily that they would never recover, and sure enough they died after taking it. Cluny soon obtained much reputation, and bred saints and attracted great wealth. Popes, kings, and emperors consulted the abbot as if he were an oracle. One abbot was called the "archangel of monks"; another, named Odilo, was called "King Odilo of Cluny." To be the abbot of Cluny came to be a higher station than an archbishop or even a Pope. At the end of the twelfth century there were no less than two thousand monasteries affiliated with that of Cluny as head centre.

ST. DUNSTAN, MONK AND ARCHBISHOP (A.D. 953).

Monastic life in England had been at a low ebb when St. Dunstan was born at Glastonbury, in Wiltshire, of noble parentage, in 925. He was an excellent musician, as well as a painter and worker in brass and iron, which accomplishments recommended him to the Court of King Edmund about 933. He was so ingenious that he was accused of magic arts; and it was an item of evidence against him that his harp, when hanging on the wall, twanged of itself. He was banished from Court, and lived for a time in a small cell at Glastonbury. One night the devil appeared to him in the shape of a beautiful woman; but he, knowing better, plucked a red-hot pair of tongs from the fire, and seized her or him by the nose till the fiend roared and bellowed. It was thought this legend was founded on the fact that a lady of wealth who greatly admired Dunstan made him her heir, and he built the abbey of Glastonbury with her money, and became the first abbot thereof. He built also other monasteries. After many reverses of his Court favour, he at length was made Bishop of Worcester, then of London, and next Archbishop of Canterbury; and he died and was buried there in 987, though his body was afterwards carried off clandestinely by the monks of Glastonbury to lie in their own abbey. On one occasion he is said to have gained a victory over his opponents by exhibiting a crucifix which spoke on his side; and another time, after arguments, he ended by committing the cause of the Church to God, and immediately the floor of the room fell where his enemies stood, while his own friends remained unharmed, owing to the firmness of the beam supporting their side.

THE MONKS OF ST. BERNARD (A.D. 952).

The monastery of St. Bernard was founded about 962 by a famous saint of that name, at the head of a pass of the Alps, about 8,131 feet above the sea. It is a massive building and exposed to tremendous storms. The chief building accommodates eighty travellers, with stabling and storerooms. Here live a community devoted to works of benevolence, in a desolate region where seldom a week passes without a fall of snow, and which lies eight feet deep all the year round, and often more. No wood grows within two leagues, and all fuel is brought from a forest four leagues distant, and forty horses are kept to fetch it. Ten or twelve brethren are always on duty, for travellers pass nearly every day, notwithstanding all the perils; and five or six dogs are kept in the hospice. When a traveller reaches a certain house not far from the summit, a servant and dog issue from the monastery to conduct the stranger. The dog is the only guide, and nothing is seen of it except its tail, which directs the cavalcade. These dogs are a cross between the Newfoundland and the Pyrenean. This hospice soon became famous, and attracted many donations and grew wealthy. In 1480 it possessed ninety-eight benefices of the Church, and attained its greatest prosperity; but its resources are now greatly reduced.

A CHANCELLOR BECOMES A MONK (A.D. 946).

About 946 Turketul, who had been chancellor to King Edward, as well as to his son Edmund and his other son Edred, had occasion to pass through Croyland, when three old monks invited him to stay overnight in that monastery. They took him to prayers, showed their relics, told their wants, and begged him to act as their advocate with the King. The hospitality of that night made a great impression on the chancellor, who expressed to the King his wish to go there and turn monk himself some early day. The King was amazed, yet could not thwart his faithful servant, and at last consented and fixed a day to accompany the new monk to his destination; and meanwhile the chancellor gave away all his manors to the King, giving one-tenth to the monastery. The day arrived, and also the King, and his old servant, who, after laying aside his lay habit and receiving the benediction of the bishop, became abbot of Croyland. Many learned men soon joined and became priests or monks in the same house. The abbot employed them in school-keeping, and made a point of going every day to inspect the progress of each pupil, taking with him a servant, who carried figs or raisins, nuts or walnuts, apples or pears, to distribute as rewards. Turketul made great improvements at Croyland during his rule, which continued till 975, and the monastery became wealthy and powerful. He presented a great bell to the monastery, called Guthlac, and it and some others, soon afterwards added, made up the best peal of bells in all England of that day. A great fire destroyed this famous monastery in 1091.

DEATHBED OF ABBOT TURKETUL, OF CROYLAND (A.D. 975).

In 975 Abbot Turketul, of Croyland, caught a fever, and on the fourth day, lying on his bed, he assembled forty-seven monks and four lay brethren in his chamber, and called his steward to state the position and treasures of the convent. There were numerous most precious relics, which the Emperor Henry and other kings and nobles, desiring to obtain the goodwill of Turketul, had bestowed upon him while he was chancellor. Among these he chiefly reverenced the thumb of the blessed Apostle Bartholomew (a gift of the Emperor), so that he always carried it about with him, and crossed himself with it in all perils and in storm or lightning. He greatly reverenced likewise some of the hairs of the holy mother of God, Mary, which the King of France had given him, enclosed in a golden box. Also a bone of St. Leodegarius, bishop and martyr, a gift of the Prince of Aquitaine, and many other relics. The steward also produced the whole of the gold and silver vessels, which he and the treasurer preserved entirely for the wants of the monastery. As the fever increased, Turketul communicated in the sacred mysteries of Christ, and embracing with both arms the cross which his attendants had brought from the church before the convent, he kissed it so frequently with many sighs, tears, and groans, and so devout were the sayings which he addressed to each of the wounds of Christ, that he excited to copious tears all the brethren who stood around him. On the day before his death he delivered a short discourse to his brethren who were present on the observance of order, on brotherly love, on guarding against negligence. He also, in a prophetic admonition, cautioned them thus: "Guard well your fire"-which some interpreted to mean love, and others the conflagration of the building, which afterwards actually took place. Then bidding them a last farewell, he from the bottom of his heart besought God for them all. And then the vital powers failed, and languor oppressed him till he passed from this world to the Father-from the toils of the abbey to Abraham's bosom. He was buried in his own church which he had built from the foundations near the great altar in the sixty-eighth year of his age and the twenty-seventh of his monkhood. The great fire took place one hundred years later.

MONK NILUS AVOIDING SAINTHOOD (A.D. 900-1005).

The monk Nilus, who was reputed to be the wisest man of his age, was grieved that his friend John, Archbishop of Placenza, should be so much inclined to meddle in politics, and warned him rather to retire from the world. John would not be warned, and was punished for joining a conspiracy against the Pope by having his eyes put out, his tongue cut off, and being cast into a dungeon. Nilus was so shocked at this news that he left his monastery near Gaeta and journeyed to Rome, and begged the Emperor then to let him join the archbishop, that they might do penance together for their sins. But the Pope and Emperor, instead of this, ordered further punishments for the archbishop. Nilus then told them both plainly that, as they had shown no mercy to the poor prisoner who had been committed to their hands, neither could they expect any mercy from the Heavenly Father for their own sins. The young Emperor Otho III. was rather pleased with his plain speaking, and invited Nilus to ask any other favour he pleased; but Nilus answered, "I have nothing to ask of you but the salvation of your own soul; for though you are an emperor, you must die like other men, and then must give account of your deeds, be they good or bad." The Emperor on hearing this burst into tears, took the crown off his head, and begged the man of God to give him his blessing. When Nilus had reason to know that when he died the Governor of Gaeta intended to bring his body to Gaeta for public burial, and to preserve his bones as a patron saint to Gaeta, Nilus was shocked, and protested that he would rather let no one know where he would be buried. So in his old age he took leave of his monks and set off towards Rome, telling them, as they wept, that he was going to prepare a monastery where they should all meet once more. On reaching Tusculum, he rode into a small convent of St. Agatha, saying, "Here is my resting-place for ever." He would not leave the spot, and charged the monks not to bury him in a church nor build any arch or monument over his grave; but if they wished some token, then to make it a resting-place for pilgrims, for he had been a pilgrim all his life.

THE MONK NILUS AS AN ADVISER (A.D. 990).

The monk Nilus, who lived in the tenth century, was dedicated in his infancy to the service of God, and at an early age was delighted to read of the monks St. Antony and St. Hilarion and St. Simeon Stylites, and developed a turn for an ascetic life. This led to his being consulted by men of all ranks, who put to him puzzling questions. One day a noble, who lived a loose life, put some unbecoming queries, when a priest, to divert the conversation, asked Nilus of what kind was the forbidden fruit which Adam tasted in Paradise. Nilus answered, "A crab-apple." Whereupon the party laughed. He then rebuked them. "Laugh not; such a question deserves such an answer. Moses has not told us precisely what tree it was: why should we wish to know what the Holy Scriptures have concealed?" Another day Nilus was visiting a castle, when he met a Jewish physician, who professed to fear that Nilus's habits of fasting might bring on epileptic fits, and gave him a medicine that would save him from all diseases. Nilus only replied, "One of your own countrymen, a Hebrew, has told us that it is better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in man. We have a great Physician of our own-the Lord Jesus Christ; in Him we trust, and do not need your remedies." Nilus was once sent for to advise a rich duchess who had incited her two sons to murder her nephew, and her conscience was ill at ease. The bishops had prescribed for her to repeat the Psalter three times a week and to give alms to the poor. But she could not rest till she took the advice of Nilus. After thinking a little he said to her, "Give one of your sons to the relations of the murdered man, to do with him what they please, for the Lord has said, 'Whoso sheddeth man's blood his blood shall be shed again.'" The widow said she could not do that, for they might kill her son. She then wept bitterly, and gave money to Nilus that he might purchase from God a forgiveness of her sins. This excited the anger of Nilus, who hurried away, determined to be no partaker in her sins.

THE MONASTERY OF BEC, FOUNDED A.D. 1034.

The chronicle Beccense thus describes the origin of the famous monastery of Bec: "In the year 1034 Herluinus, at the inspiration of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Author of all good things, casting aside the nobility of the world, for which he had been not a little conspicuous, having thrown off the girdle of military service, betook himself with entire devotion to the poverty of Christ, and that he might be free for the service of God alone, through the single love of God, assumed with great joy the habit of a monk. This man, who had been a passionate warrior, and who had gotten himself a great name and favour with Robert, the son of the second Richard, and with the lords of different foreign countries, first built a church on a farm of his, which was called Burnevilla. But because this place was on a plain and lacked water, being admonished in a dream by the Blessed Mother of God, he retired to a valley close to a river, which is called Bec, and there began to build a noble monastery to the honour of the same St. Mary, which God brought to perfection for the glory of His name, and to be the comfort and salvation of many men. To which Herluinus God, according to the desire of his heart, gave for his helpers and counsellors Lanfranc, a man every way accomplished in liberal acts; then Anselm, a man approved in all things, a man affable in counsel, pitiful, chaste, sober in every clerical duty, wonderfully instructed-which two men through God's grace were afterwards consecrated Archbishops of Canterbury. And to this same Bec, which began in the greatest poverty, so many and such great men, clerical as well as lay men, resorted, that it might fitly be said to the holy abbot, 'With the riches of thy name hast thou made thy house drunk, and with the torrent of the wisdom of thy sons hast thou filled the world.'"

THE GREAT FIRE AT CROYLAND MONASTERY (A.D. 1091).

Ingulph, abbot of Croyland, describes the fire of 1091 thus: "Our plumber, who had been employed on the tower of the church, one night, with fatal madness, covered his fire over with dead cinders, so that he might be more prepared to begin work next morning, and left for supper. Some hours after, when all were buried in slumber, and a strong north wind blowing, the inhabitants of the town, seeing great flames in the belfry, began to shout and batter at the gates. The clamour of the populace awoke me, and I could discern, as clear as noonday, the servants of the monastery shouting, wailing, and rushing hither and thither. As I rushed to the dormitory I was severely burnt with the drippings of molten lead and brass. I called and shouted to the brethren, still plunged in sleep, and on recognising my voice they leaped from their beds in terror in their nightdresses and half naked, many being wounded and maimed in the hurry of escape. I attempted to regain my own chamber to get the clothes which I had there, and distribute them in case of necessity. But the heat was so excessive and the streams of molten lead so copious that even the boldest of the young men dared not to enter. I then found that the infirmary had been caught with the flames, invincible in their fury; and even the green trees, ashes, oaks, and osiers, growing near, were scorched. The tower of the church soon fell on the southern side; and I, terrified at the crash, dropped upon the ground half dead in a swoon, and lay till I was rescued by my brethren. At dawn of day the brethren, weeping and depressed, some of them pitiably mangled in the limbs, performed in common Divine service with mournful voices and woful accents in the hall of our great master. After having fully completed the daily and nightly hours of Divine service, we proceeded to examine the state of the whole monastery. The fire still raged and destroyed the granary and stable. We searched the choir, which had been reduced to ashes, and found that all the books of the Divine service, both the antiphoners and graduals, had perished. Entering the vestry, we found that all our sacred vestments, the relics of the saints, and some other valuables there deposited, were uninjured by the fire. Some of the muniments in the charter room were shrivelled up by the heat; and our beautiful writings, ornamented with golden crosses, paintings, and ornamented letters, were destroyed in this night of blackness. Besides these our whole library, containing more than three hundred original volumes, besides the lesser volumes, numbering more than four hundred, perished. By that casualty we lost a very beautiful tablet, admirably constructed of every kind of metal to represent the various stars and signs of the zodiac, each of a different colour-a gift from the King of France to Turketul. Our dormitory, as also the necessary house, the infirmary, and washing house, the refectory and all its contents except a few dark-coloured cups, and the cross cup of the late King of the Mercians, were, together with the kitchens and all their contents, reduced to ashes. Our cellar and the very casks full of beer were destroyed. The abbot's hall also, and his chamber, and the court of the monastery perished in the conflagration, the flames of which, burning as it were with Greek fury, overran them on all sides. A few of the huts of the almsmen, the feeding houses of our beasts of burden, and the sheds of the other animals, which were separated by stone walls, alone remained unburnt. This conflagration was prognosticated by many signs and portents. Repeated visions by night predicted it; all were understood after the occurrence of the fact. The words of our holy Father Turketul in his last moments, earnestly warning us to guard diligently our fire; the words of our blessed Father Ulfran, bidding me in a nightly vision at Fontenelle to preserve well the fire of the hospice and the three saints Guthlac, Neot, and Waldeve,-of all these plain warnings I now understand and recognise the meaning; but I do so unprofitably and too late. I now indulge in vain complainings, and pour forth those lamentations and inconsolable tears righteously exacted by my faults. Many nobles contributed to our wants, and in the long list of benefactors let not the sainted memory of a poor woman, Juliana of Weston, be forgotten, who gave us of her poverty her whole substance-namely, a great quantity of reels of cotton wherewith to sew the vestments of the brethren of our monastery."

THE MONKS OF VALLOMBROSA (A.D. 1039).

The constant desire to reform the ways of monks brought forward John Gualbert, a Florentine of noble birth. When a youth he was ordered by his father to avenge a kinsman's death; and meeting the murderer on Good Friday in a narrow pass, he was about to fall upon him and slay him, when suddenly the murderer threw himself from his horse and placed his arms in the form of a cross, as if expecting certain death. The avenger, however, in token of the holy sign and sacred day, spared him. Another time Gualbert halted to pay his devotions in the monastic church of St. Minian's, near Florence, when he noticed that the crucifix inclined its head towards him. This turned his thoughts to holy things. He entered a monastery, and after ten years' experience he resolved to found one of his own at Vallombrosa, in 1039. He drew together a society of hermits and c?nobites. But his great discovery was the introduction of lay brethren, whose business it was to practise handicrafts, and to manage the secular affairs of the community, while by these labours the monks were enabled to devote themselves wholly to spiritual contemplation. The system established was rigorous. A novice had to undergo a year's probation, doing degrading work, such as keeping swine and daily cleaning out the pigsty with bare hands. The monks of Vallombrosa were attired in grey; but afterwards this was changed to brown, and then to black. Gualbert died in 1093.

A MONK WHO TRANSCRIBED HOLY BOOKS (A.D. 1050).

Of all the incentives to monkish industry none excelled that used by Theodoric, abbot of St. Evroult, and stated ante, p. 223. Another chronicler gives this version of the same: "One of the brethren in a certain convent was guilty of repeated transgressions of monastic rule, but was a good scribe, and so applied himself to writing that he copied of his own accord a bulky volume of the Holy Scriptures. After his death his soul was brought before the tribunal of the righteous Judge. There the evil spirits sharply accused him, and laid to his charge innumerable offences. On the other hand, the holy angels produced the volume which the brother had transcribed in the sanctuary of the Lord, counting letter for letter of the enormous volume against the sins the monk had committed. At last the letters had a majority of one, against which all the devices of the devils could discover nothing as a set-off. The mercy of the Judge was therefore extended to the sinful brother, and his soul was permitted to return to his body, in order that he might enjoy an opportunity of amending his life. Ponder well, then, my dearly beloved brethren, and shun sloth as a deadly poison. Remember what an eminent Father once said-that only a single evil spirit vexes with his wiles the monk who is laboriously occupied, while a thousand devils infest the idler, and provoke him by manifold temptations on every side, causing him to hanker after the soul-destroying vanities of the world, and after indulgence in fatal delights. You have not the means to feed the poor or build stately churches, but you can pray that the avenues to your hearts may be guarded. Pray, read, chant, write; be instant in occupations of a like kind; and you will prudently arm yourselves against the temptations of evil spirits."

A MONK AN ACCOMPLISHED MUSICIAN (A.D. 1063).

Among the monks of St. Evroult, a monk named Witmund, about 1063, was an accomplished musician as well as grammarian, of which he left evidence in the antiphons and responses which he composed, consisting of some charming melodies in the antiphonary and collection of versicles. He completed the history of the Life of St. Evroult by adding nine antiphons and three responses. He composed four antiphons to the psalms at vespers, and added the three last for the second nocturn with the fourth, eighth, and twelfth response, and an antiphon at the canticle, and produced a most beautiful antiphon for the canticle, at the Gospel in the second vespers. The history of the Life of St. Evroult, composed for the use of the monks, was first recited by two young monks, Hubert and Rodolph, sent for that purpose by the abbot of Chartres. Afterwards Reginald the Bald composed the response "To the glory of God," sung at vespers with seven antiphons, which still appeared in 1063 in the service books of the monks of St. Evroult. Roger de Sap also and other studious brethren produced with pious devotion several hymns, having the same holy Father for their subject, and which they placed in the library of the abbey for the use of their successors.

THE TRAINING OF A MONK BISHOP (A.D. 1062).

In 1062 Wulfstan was made Bishop of Worcester. His parents devoted him to a religious life from his childhood, and he took the monastic habit in the monastery at Worcester. He quickly became remarkable for his vigils, his fastings, his prayers, and all kinds of virtues, and was soon made master and tutor of the novices, and then precentor and treasurer of the church. Having these opportunities and devoting himself wholly to a life of contemplation, he resorted to it day and night, either for prayer or holy reading, and assiduously mortified his body by fasting for two or three days together. He was so addicted to devout vigils that he not only spent the nights sleepless, but often the day and night together, and sometimes went for four days and nights without sleep-a thing we could hardly have believed if we (says Orderic) had not heard it from his own mouth-so that he ran great risk from his brains being parched, unless he hastened to satisfy the demands of nature by the refreshment of sleep. Even at last, when the urgent claims of nature compelled him to yield to sleep, he did not indulge himself by stretching his limbs to rest on a bed or couch, but would lie down for a while on one of the benches in the church, resting his head on the book which he had used for praying and reading. After some time this reverend man was appointed prior and father of the convent, an office which he worthily filled, by no means abating the strictness of his previous habits, but rather increasing it in many respects, in order to afford a good example to others. When, after the lapse of some years, he was named for the office of bishop, though at first he declared with an oath that he would rather submit to lose his head than be advanced to so high a dignity, he at last yielded to the general desire.

THE MONK ABELARD AND THE NUN HELO?SE (A.D. 1079-1164).

The monk Abelard, or Master Peter, was twelve years the senior of Bernard, of noble family, haughty in manner, singularly handsome, and dressed to great advantage. He had a commanding intellect, and became a teacher of renown, being followed by crowds of admirers. His success intoxicated him, and he gave way to pleasure. He was said to have been a tutor to a niece of a Canon Fulbert, named Helo?se, and their intimacy led to an unconquerable love, since celebrated by all the poets. They were at last secretly married, and after being covered with reproaches from relatives, were separated, he seeking refuge in the abbey of St. Denis, and Helo?se becoming a nun at Argenteuil, and afterwards a prioress in Troyes district. Abelard was dogged by enemies, charged with heresy, and he became a hermit on the banks of the Ardusson, near Troyes. Yet wherever he was, his magnetic power drew the crowd after him, and he had again to escape to a monastery of St. Gildas on the coast of Brittany, where, however, the morals of the fraternity were very loose. At intervals he and Helo?se met and corresponded, and their constancy was well known. Abelard's views relating to the Trinity, which he expounded with extraordinary ingenuity and power, roused the enmity of the orthodox Bernard, who challenged him to a public discussion at Sens. These two men were the ablest theologians of their day, and the approaching contest excited extraordinary interest in the civilised world; the king, and bishops, and abbots, and grandees watched keenly the stages of the meeting. After, however, Bernard had begun to attack the heretical book, Abelard abruptly left the meeting, saying that he preferred to appeal to Rome. Abelard ended his days in pious exercises in the monastery of Cluny.

ABELARD AND ST. BERNARD IN CONTROVERSY.

This public discussion as to orthodox doctrines so eagerly looked forward to between Abelard and St. Bernard, and which ended so abortively, was described by Abelard's disciple Berenger in a letter somewhat satirically. He describes Bernard as a mere idol of the crowd-gifted with a plentiful flow of words, but destitute of liberal culture and of solid abilities-one who, by the solemnity of his manner, imposed the merest truisms on his followers as if they were profound oracles. He ridicules Bernard's reputation as a worker of miracles; hints that his proceedings against Abelard were prompted by a spirit of bigotry, jealousy, and vindictiveness, rendered more odious by his professions of sanctity and charity. Of the opinions imputed to his master, he maintains that some were never held by Abelard, and the rest, if rightly interpreted, were true and Catholic. The book of Abelard, he says, had been brought up for consideration at Sens when the bishops had dined, and it was then read amidst jests and laughter while the wine was doing its work in their brains. Any expression above the reach of their understanding excited their rage and curses against Abelard. As the reading went on, one after another succumbed to sleep, and when the question was put to them they answered without being able to articulate a word. The council reported their condemnation of Abelard's doctrines, and requested Abelard to be interdicted from teaching. Bernard also used his influence with the Pope, who, without even calling on Abelard for explanations, ordered him to be shut up in a monastery; and it was there that the abbot of Cluny offered an asylum, in which Abelard ended his days.

ABELARD'S LAST DAYS IN CLUNY (A.D. 1142).

After Abelard died a monk in Cluny, the lord abbot of Cluny gave this account of him to Helo?se: "I write of that servant and true philosopher of Christ, Master Peter, whom the Divine dispensation sent to Cluny in the last days of his life. A long letter would not unfold the humility and devotion of his conversation while among us. When at my order he took a high place in our large company, he always appeared the least of all by the meanness of his attire. In the processions, when he with the others preceded me, I wondered, nay, I was well-nigh confounded, to see so famous a man able so to despise and abase himself. He was so sparing in his food, in his drink, in all that related to his body, as in his dress; and he so condemned both in himself and others, both by word and deed, I do not say superfluities, but all save the merest necessaries. He read continually; he prayed frequently; he was silent always, unless the conversation of the monks, or a public discourse in the convent, addressed to them, urged him to speak. What more shall I say? His mind, his tongue, his work, always meditated, taught, or confessed philosophical, learned, or Divine things. A man simple and upright, fearing God and eschewing evil-in this conversation for a time he consecrated his life to God. In the exercise of all holy works, the advent of the Divine visitor found him, not sleeping, as it does many, but on the watch. When his end came, how faithfully he commended his body and soul to Him here and in eternity, the religious brethren are witnesses, and the whole congregation of that monastery. Thus Master Peter finished his days."

THE ORDER OF CARTHUSIANS (A.D. 1084).

The popular legend as to the origin of the order of Carthusians is, that about 1084 one Bruno, a native of Cologne, and master of the cathedral school of Rheims, was anxious to escape from a domineering archbishop, whose favourite saying was, "The archbishopric of Rheims would be a fine thing, if one had not to sing masses for it." Bruno one day, being in Paris, witnessed the funeral procession of a very pious and learned doctor, and while on its way to the grave the corpse raised itself from the bier and exclaimed, "By God's righteous judgment I am judged." This so horrified the company that the ceremony was postponed to next day. But next day the same thing happened, and again on a third day, the mournful tone of the dead man shocking every listener. Bruno was so overcome with a sense of the vanity of all earthly things that he resolved to retire into some solitude. A bishop of Grenoble advised him to choose the rocky woods of Chartreuse, and to that place he and six companions retired. They wore goatskins, and lived on the most meagre fare. They spoke only on Sundays and festivals, and underwent a weekly flagellation. But by their rules no one was to impose any extraordinary austerity on himself without the leave of the prior. The community at first consisted of hermits and c?nobites. They contrived soon to acquire a good library, and they excelled in transcribing and literary labours. After six years Bruno was invited by the Pope to Rome; but he grew weary of city life, and founded a second Chartreuse. The order of Carthusians gradually flourished; but their rule was too rigid for females; their habits were less prone to luxury than those of other orders. Yet the convents in the seventeenth century were said to be reduced to five.

THE ORDER OF THE CISTERCIANS (A.D. 1098).

About 1098, one Robert, the son of a noble in Champagne, having entered a monastery, and finding the rule too lax for his tastes, went, with twenty companions, to Cistercium or Citeaux, a lonely wood near Dijon, where they settled and built a monastery. The third abbot was Stephen Harding, an Englishman, who framed the rules of their order. Their dress was white; they were to avoid pomp and luxury and refuse all gifts. From September to Easter they were to eat only one meal daily. The monks were to give themselves to spiritual employments, and instead of slaves they hired servants to assist in labour. The white dress, being a novelty in France, gave offence and caused rivalry to other orders, who wore black, the white being deemed a badge of overweening self-righteousness. The order of Citeaux acquired great celebrity by producing St. Bernard, its most famous member. The mode of government resembled the aristocratic rather than the monarchical, the affiliated monasteries joining in the election of abbot. One remarkable feature of the rule was the holding of an annual general chapter, at which every abbot of the order was imperatively required to attend. This meeting helped to keep the branch societies in harmony. The order spread very rapidly, and in 1151 was said to consist of five hundred monasteries. Until the rise of the mendicant orders, the Cistercians were the most popular of the orders, and grew rich.

ST. BERNARD AS A YOUNG MONK (A.D. 1100).

St. Bernard, perhaps the most influential of all monks, was born in 1071, had great beauty of person, charming manner, and a facile eloquence, which gave him an early ascendency. The monastery at Citeaux, near Dijon, had been founded fifteen years, when, at the age of twenty-two, he felt a yearning to join the company. One Stephen Harding, an Englishman, was the abbot, and kept the whole of St. Bernard's rule literally. They had one meal a day, and never tasted meat, fish, grease, or eggs, and even milk only rarely. When Bernard entered, a scarcity bordering on famine was felt there. The rule of the house then was as follows: At two in the morning the great bell was rung, and the monks rose and hastened from their dormitory, along the dark cloisters, in solemn silence, to the church. A single small lamp suspended from the roof gave a glimmering light. After short private prayer they began matins, which lasted two hours. The next service was lauds, at the first glimmer of dawn. During the interval the monk's time was his own. He went to the cloister, and employed the time in reading, writing, or meditation. He then devoted himself to various religious exercises till nine, and next went forth to work in the fields. At two they dined; at nightfall they assembled to vespers; and at six or eight, according to the season, finished the day with complin, and passed at once to the dormitory. Bernard took to these austerities with great enthusiasm. He used to say that whatever knowledge he had of the Scriptures he had acquired chiefly in the woods and fields, and that the beeches and oaks had been his best teachers in the Word of God. He said cities to him were like a prison, and solitude was a paradise.

ST. BERNARD AS ABBOT.

St. Bernard, the son of a noble in Burgundy, as already stated, soon displayed a genius for self-mortification as a Cistercian monk. He was so self-concentred that, when he had walked a whole day on the banks of Lausanne Lake, he never noticed that there was any lake at all. Once he borrowed a horse for a journey, but never noticed what sort of bridle it had. He had such a reputation for learning and piety that many potentates referred their differences to him, and Bolingbroke said that the cell of Bernard was a scene of as much intrigue as the court of the Emperor. He said of Abelard that he knew everything that is in heaven and earth but himself. Bernard died at sixty-three, and was buried at Clairvaux in 1153. He said many men know many things-measure the heavens, count the stars, dive into the secrets of Nature-but know not themselves.

ST BERNARD'S MIRACLES.

The biographers and chroniclers ascribe abundant miracles to St. Bernard. A boy with an ulcer in his foot begged the holy man to touch and bless him, and the sign of the cross was made and the lame was healed. Once a knight had been suffering from a quartan fever for eighteen months, and used to foam at the mouth and lie unconscious; but Bernard cured him instantly with a piece of consecrated bread. Young Walter of Montmirail, when three months old, was brought by his mother to be blessed; the conscious child clutched at Bernard's hand and kissed it. Once an incredible number of flies filled the church at Foigny at the time of its dedication, and their noise and buzzing were an intolerable nuisance; but the saint merely said, "I excommunicate them," and next morning they were all dead, and had to be shovelled out with spades. On another occasion, as Bernard was returning from Chalons, the wind and rain and cold were fierce, and one of the company by some accident lost his horse, which scampered away over the plain. Bernard said, "Let us pray," and they were scarcely able to finish the Lord's Prayer before the horse came back tame and mild, stood before Bernard, and was restored to its owner.

THE MONK BERNARD AND HIS FASHIONABLE SISTER.

St. Bernard had at an early age converted his brothers and made monks of them; but he had a sister, Humbeline, who showed no enthusiasm for a nunnery. She married a man of rank and affluence, and did her part in the gay world. One day she thought she would like to go and visit her brothers in the monastery, and with great pomp and retinue she drove to the gates of Clairvaux and asked to see Bernard. But he, "detesting and execrating her as a net of the devil to catch souls," refused to go out and meet her. Her brother Andrew, whom she encountered at the gate, also treated her with harshness, and observed with unbecoming contempt upon her fine apparel. She burst into tears at this coldness, and at last exclaimed, "And what if I am a sinner? It is for such that Christ died! It is because I am one that I need the advice and conversation of godly men. If my brother despises my body, let not a servant of the Lord despise my soul. Let him come and command: I am ready to obey." This speech brought out Bernard, who ordered her to imitate her saintly mother: to renounce the luxuries and vanities of the world, to lay aside her fine clothes, and to become a nun inwardly even if she could not assume the outward appearance. The sister went home, thought over all this, and ended by coming round to Bernard's views. She astonished her friends and neighbours by the sudden change in her ways of life. Her fastings, prayers, and vigils showed that she also had a turn for the monastic life. She got permission from her husband and retired to the convent of Juilly, where she emulated his austere devotion, and became worthy of such a brother as Bernard.

ST. BERNARD AND HIS RIVAL, PETER THE VENERABLE.

A rivalry sprang up between the monks of Cluny and those of Citeaux, the white dress of the latter causing much bitterness to those in black. Bernard of Clairvaux was the champion of the Cistercians, and Peter of the Cluniacs. Bernard blamed the Cluniacs for their luxury and secular habits. He said many of the monks, though young and vigorous, pretended sickness, that they might be allowed to eat flesh. Those who abstained from flesh indulged their palate without stint in exquisite cookery; while, in order to provoke the appetite, they drank largely of the strongest and most fragrant wines, which were often rendered more stimulating by spices. At table, instead of grave silence, light worldly gossip, jests, and idle laughter prevailed. The Cluniacs had coverlets of fur or of rich and variegated materials for their beds. They dressed themselves in the costliest furs, silk, and cloth, fit for robes of princes. Even the stuff for a cowl was chosen with feminine and fastidious care. This excessive care for the body betokened a want of mental culture. Even the mode of worship and magnificence of the churches were excessive in splendour. The churches were elaborately adorned and the poor were neglected. There were pictures and monstrous and grotesque carvings in the walls, wholly unsuited to sacred worship and apt to distract the mind. The chandeliers and candlesticks were of gold and silver and set with jewels; the pavements were inlaid with figures of saints and angels, whose character was thereby degraded. The golden shrines containing relics seemed only to flatter the wealthy and allure them into opening their purse-strings. These abbots travelled at home with a pomp and retinue of sixty horses, only suited to distant undertakings of great pith and moment. All these unseemly practices cried aloud for redress.

PETER THE VENERABLE REPLIES TO BERNARD.

Peter the Venerable replied to St. Bernard and defended the Cluniacs. He retorts that the white dress of the Cistercians was too significant of pride, while the black dress of Cluny was better suited to the grave and sad. The severity of the Cistercian discipline was excessive, and only drove monks out of the order. The use of furs and materials for dress and bedding and the relaxation of fastings were properly made to suit the diversities of climate. Moreover, as coats of skins were given to Adam and Eve, not for pride, but for shame, the use of furs might well serve to remind us that we were exiles from our heavenly country. If the Cluniacs had lands, they were at least more indulgent to their tenants; if they had serfs, this was because these could not be separated from the lands. If the Cluniacs had castles, these were generally turned into houses of prayer; if they had tolls, they were reminded that St. Matthew came from the class of toll-collectors; if they had tithes, they at least had forsaken all earthly possessions before entering the order, and gave an ample equivalent in the prayers and tears and alms which the monks used for the benefit of the public. It was not necessary for the monks to work at manual labour when they had ample employment in spiritual concerns and priestly exercises. The washing of feet on receiving pilgrims and strangers always involved a great waste of time. Though the Cluniacs were blamed for having no bishops, this was sufficiently explained from their being under the Bishop of Rome.

THE SCHOOLMEN AND DOCTORS OF THE MIDDLE AGES.

The subtle and ingenious schoolmen and doctors of the Middle Ages were too often only "madly vain of dubious lore." One doctor of Paris, named Simon Churnai, having acquired great fame in 1202 by his defence of the doctrine of the Trinity, was so conceited as to say, "Oh, poor Jesus! how greatly have I confirmed and exalted Your position! If I had chosen to attack it, I could have destroyed it by much stronger reasons and objections!" Peter Lombard, friend of St. Bernard, and author of the popular work entitled "The Sentences," ventured to discuss such problems as the following: When the angels were made, and how; whether they be all equal in essence, wisdom, and freewill; whether they were created perfect and happy, or the reverse; whether the demons differ in rank among themselves; whether they all live in hell, or out of it; whether the good angels can sin, or the bad act virtuously; whether they have bodies; and whether every person has or has not a good angel to preserve him and a bad one to destroy him. The most famous of the doctors had their favourite adjectives, as in the following list:-

The irrefragable doctor Alexander Hales 1230.

The angelical doctor Thomas Aquinas 1256.

The seraphic doctor Bonaventura 1260.

The wonderful doctor Roger Bacon 1240.

The most profound doctor ?gidius de Columna 1280.

The most subtle doctor John Duns Scotus 1304.

The most resolute doctor Durand 1300.

The invincible doctor W. Occham 1320.

The perspicuous doctor Walter Burley 1320.

The most enlightened doctor Raymond Lully 1300.

THE DEATHBED OF AN ABBOT (A.D. 1137).

Warin, abbot of St. Evroult, after serving God under the monastic rule for forty-three years, one day in June 1137 was observed to sing Mass with great devotion in the morning, when they buried the corpse of a soldier. In the course of the day he took to his bed, and lay dangerously ill for five days, during which the sick man heard Mass daily, and said an office which he had regularly performed himself for the thirty years of his priesthood. Seeing now that he was going the way of all flesh, he earnestly sought the viaticum for the great journey, and prepared to present himself to the Most High King of Sabaoth by confessing his sins with tears in his eyes, earnest and constant prayer, the holy unction, and the life-giving participation of the Lord's body. At last, strengthened with these great aids, he departed on June 21st; and having performed all that belonged to a faithful champion of Christ, and commended himself and his spiritual sons to the Lord God, fell asleep in the fifteenth day of his government. The sorrowing brethren all joined in paying the last offices to their lamented father, and he was buried in the chapter by the side of the tomb of Abbot Osbern. A white stone was placed over his grave; and, adds Orderic, "for the love I bore to my old and dear associate, and afterwards my spiritual father, I composed an epitaph to be engraved upon it."

ECSTATIC VISIONS OF SISTER HILDEGARD (A.D. 1147).

When Pope Eugenius was visiting Albero, Archbishop of Treves, in 1147, with whom he remained three months, he was consulted and asked for an opinion as to the prophecies of Hildegard, head of a monastic sisterhood at St. Disibod's, in the diocese of Mentz. Hildegard, born in 1098, had from her childhood been subject to fits of ecstasy, during which it was said that, though ignorant of Latin, she uttered oracles in that language, and these were eagerly heard, recorded, and circulated. With the power of prophecy she was credited with the power of working miracles. She came to be consulted on all manner of subjects by emperors, kings, and popes. Her tone in addressing the highest personage was like that of a true prophetess-one of pronounced superiority. She denounced the corruptness of the monks and clergy with a vigour which delighted their enemies. Even St. Bernard, when in Germany, became interested in the position of Hildegard, and it was at his instance that the Pope examined the subject, and gave her his approval and sanctioned a design she entertained of building a convent in a spot on St. Rupert's Hill, near Bingen, which had been revealed to her in a vision. Another ecstatic visionary about the same period was Elizabeth of Schonau, who used in her trances to utter oracles in Latin, and to relate her interviews with angels and the Queen of Heaven; and both Hildegard and she attained the honour of saintship. A little later, about 1190, Joachim, a Calabrian, though not a prophet, attained the dignity of a seer, and was consulted by popes and princes.

THE SAFEST WAY OF TRAVELLING TO ROME (A.D. 1172).

Abbot Sampson of Edmundsbury used to relate this: "In my earlier days as a monk I journeyed to Rome on the business of this convent, and I passed through Italy at that time when all clerks bearing letters of our lord the Pope Alexander were taken, and some were imprisoned, and some hanged, and some with nose and lips cut off were sent back to the Pope to his shame and confusion. I, however, pretended to be a Scotchman; and putting on the garb of a Scotchman, I often shook my staff in the manner they use that weapon, which they call a pike, at those that mocked me, uttering fierce language after the manner of the Scotch. To those who met and questioned me as to who I was, I answered nothing but 'Ride, Rome, turn Canterbury.' This I did to conceal myself and my errand, and that I should get to Rome safer under the guise of a Scotchman. Having obtained letters from the Pope even as I wished, on my return I passed by a certain castle, and was taking my way from the city, and behold the officers thereof came about me, laying hold upon me and saying, 'This vagabond, who makes himself out to be a Scotchman, is either a spy or bears letters from the false Pope Alexander.' And while they examined my ragged clothes, my leggings, my breeches, and even the old shoes which I carried over my shoulders, after the fashion of the Scotch, I thrust my hand into the little wallet which I carried, wherein was contained the writing of our lord the Pope, close by a little mug I had for drinking. And the Lord God and St. Edmund permitting, I drew out that writing, together with the mug, so that, extending my arm aloft, I kept the writ underneath the mug. They could see the mug plainly enough, but they did not notice the writ; and so I got clean out of their hands in the name of the Lord. Whatever money I had about me, they took away; therefore I was obliged to beg from door to door, being at no danger until I arrived in England."

PORTRAIT OF ABBOT SAMPSON OF ST. EDMUNDSBURY (A.D. 1182).

Sampson, abbot of Edmundsbury (Bury St. Edmunds), was thus sketched by his faithful chronicler Jocelyn of Brakeland: "The Abbot Sampson was of middle stature, nearly bald, having a face neither round nor yet long, a prominent nose, thick lips, clear and very piercing eyes, ears of the quickest hearing, lofty eyebrows and often shaved, and he soon became hoarse from a brief exposure to cold. On the day of his election he was forty-seven years old, and had been a monk seventeen years, having a few grey hairs in a reddish beard, with a few grey in a black head of hair, which somewhat curled, but within fourteen years after his election it all became white as snow; a man remarkably temperate, never slothful, well able and willing to ride or walk, till old age gained upon him and moderated such inclination; who on hearing the news of the cross being captive, and the loss of Jerusalem, began to use under-garments of horsehair, and a horsehair shirt, and to abstain from flesh and flesh meats; nevertheless, he desired that meats should be placed before him while at the table for the increase of the alms-dish. Sweet milk, honey, and suchlike things he ate with greater appetite than other food. He abhorred liars, drunkards, and chatterers; for virtue ever is consistent with itself and rejects contraries. He also much condemned persons given to murmur at their meat and drink, and particularly monks who were dissatisfied therewith, himself adhering to the uniform course he had practised when a monk. He had likewise the good quality, that he never changed the dish you set before him. Once when I, then a novice, happened to serve in the refectory, it came into my head to ascertain if this were true, and I thought I would place before him a mess which would have displeased any other but him. Yet he never noticed it. An eloquent man both in French and Latin, but intent more on the substance of what he said than on the manner of saying it."

MONKS OF ST. EDMUNDSBURY REBUILDING THEIR ALTAR.

One night Abbot Sampson of St. Edmundsbury dreamt that St. Edmund complained to him that his altar required rebuilding, and that the shrine or loculus, in which the saint lay buried, must be transferred. Sampson took care to carry out this monition, and Jocelyn the chronicler relates the imposing ceremony thus: "The festival of St. Edmund now approaching, the marble blocks are polished, and all things are in readiness for lifting of the shrine to its new place. A fast of three days was held by all the people, and the abbot appointed the time and way for the work. Coming therefore that night to matins, we found the great shrine raised upon the altar, but empty, covered all over with white doeskin leather, fixed to the wood with silver nails. Praises being sung, we all proceeded with our disciplines. These finished, the abbot and some others with him are clothed in their albs, and approaching reverently set about uncovering the loculus. There was an outer cloth of linen inwrapping the loculus, and all within this was a cloth of silk, and then another linen cloth, and then a third; and so at last the loculus was uncovered and seen resting on a little tray of wood, that the bottom of it might not be injured by the stone. Over the breast of the martyr there lay fixed to the surface of the loculus a golden angel about the length of a human foot, holding in one hand a golden sword and in the other a banner. Lifting the loculus and body therefrom, they carried it to the altar, and I reached out my sinful hand to help in carrying, though the abbot had commanded that none should approach except called. And the loculus was placed in the shrine, and the shrine for the present closed. We all thought that the abbot would show the loculus to the people, and bring out the sacred body again at a certain period of the festival. But in this we were wofully mistaken. Our lord the abbot spoke privily with the sacristan and Walter, the doctor, and order was taken that twelve of the brethren should be appointed against midnight who were strong to carry the shrine. I, alas! was not of the twelve. The abbot then said that it was among his prayers to look once upon the body of his patron, and that he wished the sacristan and doctor to be with him. The convent, therefore, being all asleep, these twelve, clothed in their albs, with the abbot, assembled at the altar; and when the lid was unfastened, all except the two forenamed associates were ordered to withdraw. The abbot and they two were alone privileged to look in. The head lay united to the body, a little raised with a small pillow. But the abbot looking close, found now a silk cloth veiling the whole body, and then a linen cloth of wondrous whiteness, and upon the head was spread a small linen cloth, and then another small and most fine silk cloth, as if it were the veil of a nun. These coverings being lifted off, they found now the sacred body all wrapt in linen, and so at length the lineaments of the same appeared. But here the abbot stopped, saying he durst not proceed further or look at the sacred flesh naked. Taking the head between his hands, he thus spake, groaning, 'Glorious master, holy Edmund, blessed be the hour when thou wert born. Glorious martyr, turn it not to my perdition that I have so dared to touch thee, miserable and sinful that I am; thou knowest my devoted love and my secret thought.' And proceeding, he touched the eyes and the nose, which was very massive and prominent, and then he touched the breast and arms; and raising the left arm, he touched the fingers, and placed his own fingers between the sacred fingers. And proceeding, he found the feet standing stiff up, like the feet of a man dead yesterday; and he touched the toes and counted them. And now it was agreed that the other brethren should be called forward to see the miracles, and accordingly those ten now advanced, and along with them six others, who had stolen in without the abbot's assent; and all these saw the sacred body, but Thurstan was the only one of them who put forth his hand and touched the saint's knees and feet. And that there might be abundance of witnesses, one of our brethren, John of Dice, sitting on the roof of the church with the servants of the vestry, and looking through, clearly saw all these things. The body was then lifted to its place in the shrine, and the panels of the loculus refixed. When we assembled to sing matins, and understood what had been done, grief took hold of all that had not seen these things, each saying to himself, 'Alas! I was misled.' Matins over, the abbot called the convent to the great altar, and briefly recounting the matter, explained that it had not been in his power, nor was it permissible or fit to invite us all to the sight of such things. At hearing of which we all wept, and with tears sang Te Deum laudamus, and hastened to toll the bells in the choir."

AN ABBOT HARASSED WITH THE CARES OF HIS HIGH OFFICE (A.D. 1182).

When Sampson was abbot of St. Edmundsbury, Jocelyn, his chronicler, writes: "On one occasion I said, 'My lord, I heard thee this night wakeful and sighing heavily, contrary to thy usual wont;' and he answered, 'No wonder: thou art partaker of my good things-in meat and drink, in riding abroad, and suchlike; but you have little need to care concerning the conduct of the house and household of the saints and arduous businesses of the pastoral cares, which harass me and make my spirit to groan and be heavy.' Whereto I, lifting up my hands to Heaven, made answer, 'From such anxiety, almighty and most merciful Lord, deliver me!' I have heard the abbot say that, if he could have been as he was before he became a monk, and could have had five or six marks of rent wherewith he could have been supported in the schools, he never would have been monk or abbot. On another occasion, he said with an oath that, if he could have foreseen what and how great a charge it had been to govern the abbey, he would have been master of the almonry and keeper of the books, rather than abbot and lord. And yet who will credit this? Scarcely myself, and not even myself, unless from being constantly with him by day and night for six years I had had the opportunity of becoming fully conversant with the worthiness of his life and the rule of his wisdom."

THE MONKS ANNOYED AT THE VISIT OF THE POPE'S LEGATE.

The worthy chronicler of St. Edmundsbury, Jocelyn, thus relates the sensation caused in his convent: "In 1176 there came intelligence to Hugh, the abbot, that Richard, the Archbishop of Canterbury, purposed coming to make a visitation of our church, by virtue of his authority as legate; and thereupon the abbot, after consultation, sent to Rome and sought a privilege of exemption from the power of the aforesaid legate. On the messenger's return from Rome, there was not the means of discharging what he had promised to our lord the Pope and the cardinals, unless indeed, under the special circumstances of the case, the cross which was over the high altar, the Virgin Mary, and the St. John, which Stigund, the archbishop, had adorned with a vast quantity of gold and silver, and had given to St. Edmund, could be made use of for this purpose. There were certain of our convent who, being on terms of intimacy with the abbot, said that the shrine of St. Edmund itself ought to be stripped, as the means of obtaining such privileges, these persons not considering the great peril that would ensue from obtaining ever so valuable a privilege by such means as this, for there would be no means of calling to account any abbot who might waste the possessions of the Church and despoil the convent."

DEATHBED OF A REPENTANT PRINCESS IN 1199.

Joanna, daughter of Henry II. of England, and a favourite sister of Richard C?ur-de-Lion, and, like him, fond of the clang of trumpets and the martial music of armies, went to Syria, encouraging the Crusaders, and afterwards married Earl Raimond of Toulouse. She died at the age of thirty-four; and though neglectful of the monks in her busy days, she repented and wished she had joined the nuns. A monk thus describes her deathbed: "Trusting to the truth and mercy of the Most High, who will give a penny to him who works only at the eleventh hour, as well as to those who have laboured from the first, she greatly desired to assume a religious habit, and commanded the prioress of Fontevraud to be summoned by letters and messengers; but when distance delayed her coming, feeling her end approaching, she said to the Archbishop of Canterbury, who was then present, 'My good lord, father, have pity on me, and fulfil my earnest desire; furnish my body with the arms of religion to fight my adversary, that my spirit may be restored more pure and free to its Creator; for I know and believe that, if I might be joined in body to the order of Fontevraud, I should escape eternal punishment.' But the archbishop, trembling, said that this could not be lawfully done without her husband's consent; but when he saw her constancy and the Spirit of God speaking in her, moved by pity and conquered by her prayers, he with his own hand consecrated and gave her the sacred veil, her mother and the abbot of Tarpigny with other monks being present, and offered her to God and the order of Fontevraud. She now, rejoicing and unmindful of her pangs, declared she saw in a vision the glorious Mother of God; and as the abbot told us, she cast her veil at the enemy, saying, 'I am a sister and a nun of Fontevraud: thus strengthened, I fear thee not.'" The royal nun died very soon, and was buried in the monastery.

A MONK STEALING ST. ANTONY'S PSALM BOOK (A.D. 1200).

It is related by Ribadeneira, in his Life of St. Antony of Padua, that a certain Franciscan novice, throwing off his habit, ran away from the monastery in which the saint lived, and took away with him a psalm book written with St. Antony's own hand and explained with marginal notes, which the saint often used when he privately expounded the Scriptures to the friars. As soon as St. Antony perceived his book to be stolen, he fell down on his knees and earnestly entreated God to restore him his book again. In the meantime, the apostate thief having his book with him, as he prepared to swim over the river, met the devil, who with a drawn sword in his hand commanded him to go back again immediately, and restore to St. Antony the book he had stolen from him, threatening to kill him in case of noncompliance. The devil gave his order with so dreadful an aspect, that the thief, being astonished, returned immediately to the monastery, restored the saint his book, and continued in a religious course ever after. Hence it became a saying, that St. Antony is implored to restore lost goods.

A MONK FOR A KING (A.D. 1226).

St. Louis, King of France, in 1226, had been bred up a monk by a strong-minded and austere mother, Queen Blanche. The young King took naturally to all the austerities. He wore coarse sackcloth next his skin, ate fruit once a year, never laughed or changed his raiment on Fridays. In his girdle he wore an ivory case of iron chain scourges, and every Friday locked his door on himself and his confessor, who then used these incitements to piety over his bleeding shoulders. He would walk with bare feet to distant churches; or sometimes, to disguise his devotion, wore sandals without soles. He constantly washed the feet of beggars. He invited the poor and sick to his table. He not only gave alms but even a brotherly kiss to lepers. He heard Masses twice or thrice a day. As he rode, his chaplain chanted or recited the offices. When challenged for these constantly repeated exercises, he would say, "If I spent twice as much time in dice and hawking, should I be so rebuked?" A woman, one day as he sat in court, exclaimed, "Fie! you are not King of France; you are only a king of friars, of priests, and of clerks. It is a great pity you ever were King of France; you should be turned out of your kingship." He would not allow his officers to chastise this free speech, but answered, "Too true! It has pleased the Lord to make me king; it had been well if it had been some one who had better ruled the realm." And he ordered some money to be given to the woman. The King was altogether ignorant of polite letters. He read only his Latin Bible and the Fathers. He loved everybody except Jews, heretics, and infidels. He once thought of abdicating and becoming a real monk. He joined the Crusades because he knew God would fight His own battles. His expedition took three years to complete, and it was a disastrous failure. He was defeated and made a prisoner, but he bore it all like a monk, and his people ransomed him.

ST. ELIZABETH OF HUNGARY (A.D. 1231).

Elizabeth, daughter of a King of Hungary, and who died in 1231, was destined from a baby to be married to Ludwig, a son of the Landgrave of Thuringia, and the two as children were rocked to sleep in the same cradle. When she was fifteen they were married, and she developed a strong instinct to help the poor and sick, and always kept up a place of refuge for them. Five years after her marriage an inquisitor named Conrad became her confessor, and being of a brutal and malignant disposition, became so arrogant and domineering that her life was made miserable by his dictation and arbitrary orders. His cruel treatment of many so-called heretics ultimately roused the spirit of some nobles, who waylaid him; and when the miserable wretch begged his life, they told him he should meet with the same mercy he had shown to others, and cut him down. Ludwig went to join the Crusaders, and he afterwards died abroad; and during his absence his brothers dispossessed Elizabeth and turned her adrift with her three children, and for a time she had scarcely the means to live except on charity. Her former subjects were also afraid to shelter her, and she had often to spin for a livelihood. Amid all her own troubles she did not cease to help the poor; and when some friends came to her assistance with funds, it was always her first thought to give away all her means and even her clothes in charity. Her father at last hearing of her misfortunes, offered her a home; but she refused to leave the place where her husband had lived. Conrad, her confessor, brutally thwarted her in all her charitable schemes. At last her health gave way, and she lay on her deathbed. A little bird perched on her window-sill and sang so cheerfully that she could not choose but to sing also. She soon, however, sank, at the age of twenty-four, and her body was richly enshrined in the church dedicated to her at Marburg, where her relics were prized and attracted many pilgrims. It was after her death that the brutal Conrad was murdered. She is the patron saint of all charities.

A SICK NUN CAUSING A PANIC AMONG THE SARACENS (A.D. 1253).

St. Clara, who flourished in 1253, was a devout follower of St. Francis of Assisi, and though highly born gave her life up to exercises of self-mortification. In her nunnery of San Damiano it happened once that the Saracens were about to attack the city of Assisi, and she was on a bed of sickness, when roused by the cries of the sisterhood. She caused herself to be borne to the point of danger, preceded by the Host. She flung herself before the sacred symbol and said, "My God, suffer not these feeble ones to fall a prey to barbarians without pity. I cannot protect them. I place them in Thy hands." She thought she heard an answer, "I will preserve them." She further entreated, "Lord, have mercy on this city, which has sustained us with its alms." Again she felt sensible that she heard the words, "It shall not suffer. Be of good courage." It was noticed that a sudden panic then fell on the Saracens. They had already climbed the walls; they jumped down outside, withdrew their ladders, and deserted Assisi, leaving it unhurt. Everybody then said it was St. Clara's doing; the holy nun had saved them.

MORBID FANCIES OF ST. NICOLAS, THE STARVED MONK (A.D. 1305).

St. Nicolas of Tolentino, who died in 1305, was in his youth so impressed by a sermon on self-mortification that he resolved to embrace a religious life. He showed great aptitude for fasting, even at the growing age of fifteen, and the superior of the monastery warned him against carrying it too far and wearing himself to a skeleton; for, after all, the torture of the body was not necessary to salvation. But Nicolas hesitated; and going to church, he fell into a trance and saw a vision, which told him to remain at Tolentino. He had great delight in the spiritual exercises of Mass. At the altar his face shone with rapture and tears streamed from his eyes. He became a fervid preacher, but he also took so little food that his mind was a prey to thick-coming fancies. The cats racing over the tiles of his cottage and squalling in the night, and the rats gnawing pieces of mortar and scampering behind the wainscot, seemed to him to be an army of fiends let loose and envious of his prayers. Through his open window one night a great bat upset his candle, but he blew the extinguished candle so long that it rekindled, and this was deemed by all the neighbours quite a miraculous revival. The devil one day was said to have beaten him with a club at cockcrow, but went off without the stick, and this is still preserved as a trophy in the convent. Nicolas was ill from exhaustion, and was ordered some meat. But when a roasted partridge, hot and steaming with rich gravy, was brought to him, he looked with horror, as if he was asked to commit a mortal sin. With folded hands and tearful eyes he implored his superior to excuse him; and when he received consent not to touch the tempting bird, he made the sign of the cross over it. All at once the bird, shocked at his indifference, rose in the dish, collected its scattered materials, resumed its feathers, and flew out of the window with a whir. One day an old lady baked Nicolas some nice loaves, which he ate, and got well. In memory of the wonderful event little loaves are baked and blessed and given to the sick to this day on the feast of St. Nicolas of Tolentino.

THE MONASTERIES OF MOUNT ATHOS.

The peninsula of Mount Athos is about forty miles long and four miles wide, and abounds in ridges and valleys of the finest scenery of rock and wood, with twenty monasteries situated on the best spots. These are either hermit villages or convents of the ordinary kind; but they enjoy an organisation under what is called a Holy Synod, consisting of representatives, though before 1500 the supreme government was intrusted to a single governor or first man. Mount Athos, at the seaward end, rises seven thousand feet high. Every part of the promontory is covered with vegetation, and its position in the waters keeps the forests fresh and green when all the neighbouring mainlands are burnt up by the summer and autumnal heats. The origin of the monasteries is lost in the early ages, and for at least a thousand years the hermits have been known to occupy these places. Most of these monasteries possess ancient manuscripts and relics of the early saints. Nearly every convent on Athos possesses a portion of the true cross. Among the relics distributed are found a piece of the Blessed Virgin, which is a narrow strip of some red material sewn with gold thread and ornamented with pearls; the gifts of the three kings, gold, incense, and myrrh; a drop of the blood of St. John the Baptist; part of the skull of St. Bartholomew; a hand and a foot of St. Mary Magdalene; the left hand of St. Anne; part of the head of St. Stephen Protomartyr; relics of St. Andrew and St. Luke; a piece of our Lord's coat; the jaw of St. Stephen; the head of St. James the Less; three of our Lord's hairs; a leg of St. Simon Stylites. No instrumental music of any kind is permitted in the Eastern Church; but sometimes a sort of voice accompaniment of one note, like the drone of a bagpipe, keeps up a low murmuring sound whilst the other voices are engaged upon the tune.

THE MONKS OF LA TRAPPE (A.D. 1122).

The convent of La Trappe had been founded in 1122, but about the year 1663 the monks had dwindled to seven. De Rancé, who had been many years a wealthy prodigal and sensualist, entered La Trappe, which had an evil repute for loose living. He became abbot and began reforms; and though threatened with assassination, he introduced a system of rigorous self-denial and asceticism worthy of the hermits of the Thebaid. By degrees his numbers increased. The monks, though living in the same house, were strangers to each other. Each one followed to the choir, the garden, or the refectory the feet that were moving before him, but he never raised his eyes to discover to whom the feet belonged. There were some who passed the entire year of their novitiate without lifting up their eyes, and who, after that long period, could not tell how the ceiling of their cells was constructed, or whether they had any ceilings at all. There is mention made of one whose whole anxiety was for an only brother whom he left leading a scandalous and disorderly life in the world. This monk never passed a day without shedding tears and praying for the grace of repentance to that lost brother. On his dying-bed he had one request to make to his abbot, which was, that there might be a continuance of his prayers for this brother. De Rancé retired for a moment, and returned with one of the most useful and valued members of the brotherhood. When the cowl which concealed his features was removed, the dying monk recognised the lost brother for whom he had so often wept and prayed. De Rancé was a valued friend of Bossuet, the greatest orator of his age, and received his visits. During the last six years of his life he sat in an easy-chair almost without changing his position. He died in 1700, and was deemed the first anchorite of his time.

THE CERTOSA MONASTERY AT PAVIA (A.D. 1396).

The Certosa of Pavia is the most splendid monastery in the world, and is called the monastery of the Blessed Virgin of Grace. It was founded in 1396 by the first Duke of Milan, as an atonement for guilt and to relieve his conscience of the murder of his uncle and brother-in-law. On the general suppression of convents it became a national monument. The architect was Bernardo da Venezia, and he so contrived the building that from whatever side it was viewed the perspective lines were admirably disposed. Sculptures and paintings in profusion decorate the interior. Rich bronze gates divide the nave of the chapel from the transept. The most rare and costly materials were used in the structure, and the bas-reliefs are exquisite. There are many fine pictures of saints, setting forth various legends in sacred art.

ST. CATHERINE OF SIENA, NUN (A.D. 1347).

St. Catherine was born at Siena in 1347. She was of great beauty and had a genius for virginity; and though her parents wished her, at the age of twelve, to engage herself in marriage, she resisted, and thereby brought on herself systematic tyranny and insult. At the age of fifteen she began to live on herbs, to wear haircloth, and an iron girdle armed with spikes. At eighteen she entered a nunnery and underwent with zeal a series of mortifications. She devoted herself to nursing the infected and to delivering exhortations, so that people flocked to see and hear her. When the furious factions of Guelphs and Ghibellines raged, and the Pope sent an army to subdue Florence, the inhabitants implored her to mediate, and she went, attended with great pomp of ambassadors, to the Pope, on whom she made a great impression. She was then looked up to as a sort of ambassadress in many critical State affairs, and attained high honour in all her undertakings. She had ecstasies and wonderful visions, and was deemed of sublime virtue and self-denial. She died in Rome, aged thirty-three, and was buried there, her skull being taken to the Dominican church at Siena, and she was canonised in 1461. Next to Mary Magdalene she is the most popular of all the female saints; and owing to her great learning and to her refuting the philosophers of Paganism, she is deemed a Christian Minerva. In one of her ecstasies she said the Virgin appeared to her and introduced the Saviour, who put a ring on her finger. One legend says a wheel with spikes was used to put her to death, but fire came from heaven and broke the wheel in pieces and killed the executioners. The saint and her wheel were painted by many of the great painters, and so was her marriage to the Saviour.

THE MONKS OF LUCCA AND THEIR DEMON PREACHER (A.D. 1320).

In the fourteenth century the Franciscan monks of Lucca found that, however industrious they were in begging, the inhabitants had gradually ceased to contribute alms to the money-box, and they were on the point of starvation. The richest man of the place drove them from his gate and called them idle vagabonds, who wanted to live at their neighbours' expense. The courage of the friars drooped; they saw their tables laid out daily for dinner, but not a morsel of bread. They thought of selling the silver vessels or leaving the locality. The abbot felt or feigned patience, courage, and resignation, and counselled them to trust in the Lord; but in their inmost hearts they all felt despair, and the devil triumphed at their approaching ruin. At this desperate juncture the Archangel Michael descended and caught an emissary of the devil as he was gloating over his prey, and condemned that emissary to do service to the monks, in spite of his evil nature. The devil gnashed his teeth and swore he would do nothing for the brood of St. Francis, his arch-foe. But Michael told the fiend that he had nothing to do but obey. So the fiend, sorely against his will, assumed the guise of a friar of higher degree, got into conversation with the abbot, and hearing of the drooping fortunes of the house, said he would compel the public to serve them and restore their comfort. The abbot looked again and again at this mysterious friend, whose bearing and confident airs made a profound impression, and asked his name, which the visitor said was "Obligatus." So Obligatus entered the monastery, set to work, harangued the people in byways and comers, and his extraordinary eloquence soon worked an immediate change in the situation. The people were spellbound, and poured their contributions into the alms-boxes. The fame of the unwilling preacher filled all the country round, so that the monastery flourished and became too small, and then he prevailed on the people to build a second house. A rich man of the place fell sick unto death and sent for the eloquent friar, but at last he died impenitent; and this event greatly rejoiced the disguised saint, for Obligatus felt the devil within him so strong that he broke out into raptures. The secret of the demon friar was then disclosed. He tore off his friar's habit, declared that his truce with St. Francis was ended, that he had done his work, and Francis had conquered. The friar then vanished disgusted and enraged, and was never more heard of. But the monastery flourished ever after.

THOMAS à KEMPIS AND THE BROTHERS OF COMMON LIFE (A.D. 1450).

Thomas à Kempis, the author of the "Imitatio Christi," an inspired handbook of all that is best in monkish life, was born in 1380 at Kempen, in the diocese of Cologne. At the age of thirteen he went and joined the Brothers of Common Life, a small company or cloister founded by Gerard Groot and Florentius at Deventer, and seven years later he entered the convent of St. Agnes at Zwolle, where he filled several offices, and died in 1471, aged ninety. His book was first printed in 1471, and soon became the delight of all the best monks, as truly representing their higher life. Father Lamennais said of this book that "there is something celestial in its simplicity. One would almost imagine it was written by one of those pure spirits who have seen God face to face, who had come expressly to explain His ways and to reveal His secrets. One is profoundly moved at this aspect of that soft light which nourishes the soul and fortifies and animates without troubling it." Mr. Kettlewell also well says, "It shows how the life of a Christian in ordinary circumstances may be made lovely by the cultivation of the spiritual life; how a lowly life may become sublime and heavenly." In appearance Thomas had a broad forehead and thoughtful face and bright eyes. The Brothers of Common Life were employed not only in writing out Scripture, which was to them a great means of support, but in manual labour of a homely kind. Thomas in his studious hours contrived to extract the sweetness out of all the best writings of those who lived before him. Thomas's idea of a cloister is quoted by Mr. Kettlewell, his biographer, and gives this charming picture: "A well-founded cloister, separated from the tumult of the world, adorned with many brethren and with sacred books, is acceptable to God and to His saints. Such a place, it is piously believed, is pleasing to all that love God and take a delight in hearing the things of God; because the cloister is the castle of the Supreme King, and the palace of the Celestial Emperor, prepared for the dwelling of religious persons where they may faithfully serve God. For this is none other, as we read and sing, than the house of God in which to pray, the court of God to offer praise, the choir of God to sing unto Him, the altar of God whereon to celebrate, the gate of God whereby to enter heaven, the ladder of God to rise above the clouds. As a noble city is preserved with walls and gates and bars, so also is the monastery of the religious with many devout brethren, with sacred books, and with learned men. It is decorated with gems and precious stones to the praise of God and to the honour of all his saints, who now rejoice in heaven with Him, because they followed in the footsteps of His passion on earth."

ST. PETER OF ALCANTARA, THE SELF-CONCENTRATED MONK (A.D. 1530).

At Estremadura, in Spain, St. Peter, a law student and son of the governor, born in 1499, early embraced the religious life, and was eager to crucify the flesh with its affections. He never lifted his eyes from the ground, and could not tell whether his cell had a ceiling or bare rafters. He had charge of the refectory for six months, and allowed his brethren to go without apples and pomegranates because he would not lift his eyes to see whether there were any ripe for table. He did not know by sight one of the friars who had lived for years with him in the same house. He lay in a small cell not long enough to stretch his body in at full length. He wore only one garment, and that was a serge habit made like a short cloak with tight leggings. When it was torn he carefully removed the tattered portion underneath, lest he should be in the enjoyment of the double cloth. One day he was visited by a stranger, and Peter had been washing his only garment, and while it was drying in the sun he was of course not presentable to company. In his devotions he roared and howled so loudly that strangers thought he was insane, though the devout described him as only struggling manfully with the devil. To hear one of these performances was said to be far more impressive than any sermon of his contemporaries. One hot day, going to visit a nobleman, he dismounted from his ass and fell asleep, and the ass took the opportunity of trespassing and eating up the vegetables in a poor woman's garden. On seeing the mischief done, she tugged at Peter's cloak, which caused him to fall over and cut his head on a stone. The nobleman coming up at this point, was about to slay the woman for this rudeness, but Peter interceded for her, and begged his lordship rather to pay for the damage done by the ass, and this was done. Peter lived for forty-seven years in a perpetual penance, and was highly esteemed for the spirit he showed in so trampling the world under his feet. He had the look of a gnarled root of oak, rugged and eccentric, yet when he opened his mouth he was most affable and showed an excellent understanding. He died preaching to and admonishing the friars.

THE ECSTATIC VISIONS OF ST. THERESA (A.D. 1550).

St. Theresa astounded all her contemporaries with her numerous visions and high-flown devotional works. She was thought in her youth to be too much given to gossip; and when grown up, her confessors were told so many wonderful things that they plainly assured her these were mere delusions of the devil. She thus related one of these visions: "One day, when our Lord was communing with me, I gazed at His great beauty, and the sweetness with which He uttered His words with His most lovely and Divine mouth, sometimes also with sternness. I had a great desire to observe the colour of His eyes, and their shape and size, that I might give a description of them; but I have never been able to behold them, nor have I succeeded in gaining my point, as the vision has usually faded. And though sometimes I see He looks at me with compassion, yet the sight is so overpowering that the soul is not able to endure it, but remains in so high a rapture that, in order to enjoy Him the more completely, this beautiful apparition disappears altogether. When I am in trouble, He has shown me His wounds as He hung on the cross or was in the garden. One day, as I was holding the cross in my hand which was at the end of my rosary, He took it into His hand, and when He returned it to me it consisted of four great stones incomparably more precious than diamonds," etc., etc. St. Theresa founded no less than sixteen convents in Spain, and she died at the age of sixty-seven, in 1582, in an ecstasy such as she had so often had during her lifetime; and the nuns who attended on her said they saw our Lord waiting at the foot of her bed with saints to carry her to realms of bliss. She had joined with her nuns in the penitential psalms and litany, and she then lay in a trance for her last fourteen hours in the posture in which the blessed Magdalene is commonly drawn by painters, holding a crucifix firmly in her hands, so that the nuns could not remove it till after her death. They all noticed her lips moving and a glow of heavenly hope on her face. Her body was so sacred that parts of it were dispersed throughout the Christian world.

THE EMPEROR MONK ENTERS A MONASTERY (A.D. 1557).

The Emperor Charles V. having for twenty years looked forward to the step he was now taking, took leave of many of his old servants, and on February 2nd, 1537, was placed in his litter, and with a company of fifty-two retainers, besides his household of sixty, crossing the leafless forest, halted at the gates of Yuste, the Jeromite convent in Estremadura in Spain. There the bells were ringing a peal of welcome, and the prior was waiting to receive his imperial guest, who, on alighting, was placed in a chair and carried to the door of the church. At the threshold he was met by the whole brotherhood in procession, chanting the Te Deum to the music of the organ. The altars and the aisle were brilliantly lighted up with tapers and decked with their richest frontals, hangings, and plate. Borne through the pomp to the steps of the high altar, Charles knelt down and returned thanks to God for the happy termination of his journey, and joined in the vesper service of the feast of St. Blas. This ended, the prior stepped forward with a congratulatory speech, in which, to the scandal of the courtiers, he addressed the Emperor as "your paternity," until some friar with more presence of mind and regard to the situation whispered that the proper style was "your majesty." The orator next presented his Jeromites to their new brother, each kissing his hand and receiving a fraternal embrace. Some of the friars bestowed on his gouty fingers so cordial a squeeze that the pain compelled him to withdraw the hand and say, "Pray, don't, father; it hurts me." During this ceremony the retiring halberdiers who had escorted their master to the journey's close stood round with tears and lamentations as they took leave and felt their occupation gone. Sounds of mourning at the final parting were heard as the Emperor was conducted to an inspection of the convent, and then to supper, and then to a repose which had so long been the dream of his life.

THE EMPEROR MONK'S DRESS AND FURNITURE.

The Emperor monk's dress was always black and very old. He had an old arm-chair with wheels and cushions. Some of the apartments had some rich tapestry wrought with figures, landscapes, and flowers. His usual black dress was such another as that painted by Titian in the fine portrait wherein the Emperor sits before us, pale, thoughtful, and dignified, in the Belvidere palace at Vienna. He still had an old cap to save his best velvet one in case of a shower. He had a few rings and bracelets, medals and buttons, collars and badges, some crucifixes of gold and silver, various charms (such as the bezoar-stone against the plague, and gold rings from England against cramp), a morsel of the true cross and other relics, three or four pocket watches, and several dozen pairs of spectacles. He had a few well-chosen pictures worthy of the patron and friend of Titian, a composition on the subject of the Trinity, and three pictures of Our Lady by that great master. He had three cased miniatures of the Empress painted in her youthful beauty, also some family portraits of near relatives. Over the high altar of the convent and in sight of his own bed he had placed that celebrated composition called the Glory of Titian, a picture of the Last Judgment, in which Charles, his wife, and their royal children were represented in the master's grandest style as conducted by angels into life eternal. Also another masterpiece of the great Venetian-St. Jerome praying in his cavern with a sweet landscape in the distance-was an altar-piece in the Emperor's private oratory.

THE EMPEROR MONK'S APARTMENTS.

The Emperor's house or palace, as the friars loved to call it, in Yuste was such as many a country notary would call comfortable. It had a simple front of two storeys to the garden and the noontide sun. Each of the eight rooms had an ample fireplace, such as a chilly invalid of Flemish habits required. Charles inhabited the upper rooms, and slept in one which had a window commanding the high altar. From the window on the opposite side of the corridor, where his cabinet stood, the eye ranged over a cluster of rounded knolls, clad in walnut and chestnut, in which the mountain died gently away into the broad bosom of the Vera. A summer-house peered above the mulberry tops at the lower end of the garden, and a hermitage of Our Lady of Solitude about a mile distant hung upon a rocky height which rose like an isle out of the sea of forest. Immediately below the windows the garden sloped gently to the Vera, shaded here and there with the massive foliage of the fig, or the feathery boughs of the almond, and breathing perfume from tall orange trees, cuttings of which some of the friars in after-days tried in vain to keep alive at the bleak Escurial. The garden was easily reached from the western porch or gallery by an inclined path, which had been constructed to save the gouty monarch the pain and fatigue of going up and down stairs. This porch, which was much more spacious than the eastern, was his favourite seat when filled with the warmth of the declining day. A short alley of cypress led from the parterre to the principal gate of the garden, and beyond was the luxuriant forest, and close in the foreground a magnificent walnut tree.

THE EMPEROR MONK'S DETESTATION OF HERETICS.

While the Emperor monk was at Yuste, he retained all his fiery zeal against heretics, and notice of any successful capture of an impious Lutheran was welcome news when forwarded to him. He always in his letters entreated his daughter, the Princess Regent, to lose no time and spare no pains to uproot the new and dangerous doctrines. He used to say to his confessor, "Father, if anything could drag me from this retreat, it would be to aid in chastising these heretics. I have written to the Inquisition to burn them all, for none of them will ever become true Catholics or are worthy to live." He would have their crime treated in a short and summary manner, like sedition or rebellion. The King, his son (he said), had executed sharp and speedy justice upon many heretics, and even upon bishops in England. Upon news arriving about any hunt after heretics, he used to converse with his confessor and the prior on a subject that lay so near his heart. He told them that, in looking back on the early religious troubles of his reign, it was ever his regret that he did not put Luther to death when he had him in his power. He had spared him, he said, on account of his pledged word, but he now saw that he greatly erred in preferring the obligation of a promise to the higher duty of avenging upon that arch-heretic his offences against God. Had Luther been removed the plague might have been stayed. He had some consolation, however, in recollecting how steadily he had refused to hear the points at issue between the Church and the schismatics argued in his presence.

THE EMPEROR MONK'S INTEREST IN CLOCKMAKING.

The Emperor Charles, while a monk, often visited in spare hours the workshop of Torriano, who had long been at work on an elaborate astronomical timepiece, which was to tell the month and year and the movements of the planets. He had revolved the plan for twenty years, and the making of it actually occupied three and a half years. Of wheels it contained eighteen hundred; the material of the case was gilt bronze, and round. The clock was two feet in diameter, rather less in height, and with a tapering top, ending in a tower containing the bell and hammer. The Emperor helped the inscription by adding to the name of Torriano "The Prince of Clockmakers," and caused his own portrait to be engraved on the back. Torriano also made for the Emperor a smaller clock in a crystal case, which allowed the whole working of the machinery to be seen. The same artist constructed a self-acting mill, which, though small enough to be concealed in a friar's sleeve, could grind two pecks of corn in a day; also the figure of a lady who danced on the table to the sound of her own tambourine. Other puppets were attributed to the artist: minute men and horses, which fought, pranced, and blew tiny trumpets; and birds which flew about the room, as if alive,-toys which at first scared the prior and his monks out of their wits, and made them think the artificer a wizard. Besides these sedentary amusements, the Emperor had also his pet birds, his wolf-hounds, and even sometimes was unmonkish enough to stroll to the forest with his gun, and pop at the wood-pigeons on the chestnut trees.

THE EMPEROR MONK'S CONFESSOR.

Regla, the son of a poor Aragonese peasant, and who was taken into the convent of St. Yuste at the age of thirty-six, and became a devoted son and rigid disciplinarian, was selected by the Emperor Charles V. as his confessor. The recipient of so great an honour felt unworthy to take charge of His Majesty's conscience. But Charles told him to take courage, adding, "I have had five learned divines, who have been busy with my conscience for three years past in Flanders, and all with which you will have to concern yourself will be my life in Yuste." The meek confessor soon gained the good opinion of the Emperor, and obtained the great boon of being allowed to be seated in the royal presence-an act of condescension which greatly scandalised the loyal Quixada, the major-domo, who regarded it as an indignity that a poor friar should be placed on a level with his august sovereign. The monk felt the awkwardness-for it was the practice to keep up the same high state at Yuste in the Emperor's presence-and he fell on his knees and besought the Emperor to allow him to stand in his presence; "for when any one enters the room," said the friar, "it makes me feel like a criminal on the scaffold dressed in his san benito." "Be in no trouble about that," said Charles to him: "you are my father confessor; I am glad that people should find you sitting when they come into the room, and it does not displease me that you should change countenance sometimes at being found so." After the confessor assisted Charles in his morning devotions, the latter usually went and watched Torriano, the mechanician, who was always busy with some mechanical invention and with improving the watches and clocks which so interested the Emperor.

THE EMPEROR MONK'S CHOIR.

At the convent of Yuste the Emperor Charles had with him a little organ with a silver case and of exquisite tone, which had long been kept at the Escurial, and which was also the companion of his journeys and the solace of his evenings when encamped before Tunis. The choir at Yuste, in order to gratify the Emperor's love of music, had been reinforced with fifteen friars, chosen from different monasteries for their fine voices and skill in the art. The Emperor took a lively interest in the management of the choir and organ, and from the window of his bedroom his voice might often be heard accompanying the chant of the friars. His ear never failed to detect a false note and the mouth from which it came. A singing-master from Plasencia, being one day in the church, ventured to join in the service, but he had not sung many bars when orders came down from the palace to keep silence. Guerrero, a "chapel-master" of Seville, having composed and presented to the Emperor a book of masses and motets, one of the former was selected for performance at Yuste. When it was ended, the imperial critic remarked to his confessor which were the stolen passages skilfully appropriated from the best masters and their works and names.

NOT A MONK AT DINNER-TIME.

The Emperor Charles V., though all his life looking forward to being a monk, did not understand a monkish dinner. After a year's sojourn in Yuste, his physician considered His Majesty well enough to leave off his sarsaparilla and liquorice water. Then, as usual, Charles ate voraciously. His dinner began with a large dish of cherries or strawberries, smothered in cream and sugar; then came a highly-seasoned pasty; and next the principal dish of the repast, which was frequently a ham, or some preparation of rashers-the Emperor being very fond of the bacon products of Estremadura. "His Majesty," said the doctor, "will not hear of changing his diet or mode of living, trusting too much to the force of habit, and forgetting the consequences to bodies like his, full of bad humours." His hands occasionally troubled him, and his fingers were sometimes ulcerated. But his chief complaint was of the heat and itching in his legs at night, which he endeavoured to relieve by sleeping with them uncovered-a measure whereby temporary ease was purchased at the expense of a chill which crept into the upper part of his body, in spite of blankets and eiderdown quilts. Then came threatenings of gout, attempts to cure by cold bathing, perpetual itching, and other symptoms, which gradually enfeebled him. It was said that His Majesty's cook was driven out of his wits to invent new dishes for table, and that he believed there was nothing left but to serve up a fricassée of watches.

THE EMPEROR MONK CELEBRATES HIS OWN FUNERAL.

The Emperor used, when any of his friends died, to do honour to their memory by causing their obsequies to be performed by the friars, and each on a different day. At last he asked his confessor whether he might not now perform his own funeral, and so do for himself what would soon have to be done for him by others. "Would it not be good for my soul?" asked the Emperor. And the monk replied that certainly it would, for pious works done during life were far more efficacious than when they were postponed till after death. Preparations were therefore at once set on foot. A catafalque was erected, and next day the celebrated service was actually performed. The high altar, the catafalque, and the whole church shone with a blaze of wax lights; the friars were all in their places at the altars and in the choir, and the household of the Emperor attended in deep mourning. The pious monarch himself (says his biographer) was there, attired in sable weeds and bearing a taper to see himself interred and to celebrate his own obsequies. While they were singing the solemn mass for the dead, he came forward and gave his taper into the hands of the officiating priest, in token of his desire to yield his soul into the hands of his Maker. High above, over the kneeling throng, the gorgeous vestments, the flowers, the curling incense, and the glittering altar, the same idea shone forth on that splendid canvas whereon Titian had pictured Charles kneeling on the threshold of the heavenly mansions prepared for the blessed. The funeral rites ended, the Emperor dined, but he ate little; and feeling a violent pain in his head, he lay down, and next day he told his confessor that the funeral of the day before had done him good. He died six weeks later.

FUNERAL SERMON ON THE EMPEROR MONK.

When the Emperor Charles V. died, a monk at Yuste, his chamberlain said of him that he was the greatest man that ever lived, or ever would live, in the world. In his last moments he said, "The time is come; bring me the candle and the crucifix." These cherished relics he had long kept for this supreme hour, and he died with his eyes fixed on the crucifix. His body was embalmed and laid in a coffin in front of the high altar. The eloquent preacher Villalva preached a funeral sermon so impassioned, that the hearers declared that it made their flesh creep and their hair stand on end. Sixteen years later messengers went to remove the body to the mausoleum at the Escurial. The monks bewailed the loss of so precious a deposit, and one of them took occasion to preach an affecting sermon, in which he thus apostrophised the dead monarch: "Although you are but a lifeless corpse, the garment of the spirit which has long enjoyed, as we believe, the glory of God, we thank your C?sarean majesty for the grace which you have bestowed on Yuste and on our order. In a year and eight months passed in this solitude we are well assured that you have gained more renown than in the whole of your long reign. History, indeed, will never forget your great achievements, but in the end of your life you surpassed them all. Grief for losing you, who so loved us, chokes my utterance; for I know that when you are gone, although we who are now alive are your devoted servants and chaplains, a time will come when even in this place your memory will be regarded no more than if you had never dwelt within our walls." This last allusion was prophetic; for in 1849, when Mr. Stirling visited Yuste, he found it in ruins, and all save the great walnut tree told only of mouldering decay. O'Campo, the chronicler of the Emperor Charles V., had undertaken to write his history; but having begun at Noah's flood was, after forty years' labour, surprised by death while narrating the exploits of the Scipios, B.C. 183.

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