¹ From the royal stock of the Irish there was a certain king named Muriardachus, rich and powerful, who ruled over all the kings of Ireland for some years, and constantly adorned the Christian faith he had received with pious works. His wife Sabina is honoured as a saint for the holiness of her life and her wondrous way of living, and her memory is devoutly kept every year where she rests. Now it happened that another king of Ireland, envying his prosperity and glory, murdered the king by a night ambush together with his wife and household, sparing the life of his only daughter.

² The wicked king, captivated by the girl’s beauty, when he could not move her to unlawful consent by any persuasions, forced the virgin. She conceived and bore a son; and so great a blaze of brightness surrounded the whole place that for the excessive splendour of the light scarcely anyone could look at anything, and the whole house was thought to be consumed by flames. Seeing this, a certain holy bishop gave thanks to God, asked the king for the infant to be brought up, and, having baptised him, called him “Nulluhoc” in the language of the country.

³ When the boy had grown up and been given over to the study of letters, the holy bishop went out one day with the boy to inspect his herds, and saw a pregnant cow coming towards them. The holy boy, gazing at her for a long while, smiled in wonder at the burden enclosed within her. Asked by the bishop what he had been looking at so intently, he said: “I see a marvel, and one that seems altogether to exceed the nature of the offspring in the womb. For while the cow appears entirely black on the outside, it seems a great wonder by what cause she has been able to conceive a calf unlike it in hidden nature: and the calf, golden with a ruddy colour, seems to bear on its forehead the likeness of a bright star.” And without delay the cow brought forth her calf, and it was found just as the boy had foretold.

⁴ When the bishop who had brought him up died, his mother took him and boarded a ship bound for Britain. But the boy’s psalter slipped from his hands and fell into the depths of the sea, and a seal suddenly bursting out with gaping mouth swallowed the book and vanished beneath the waves. When all had left the ship in port, that same seal suddenly appeared and vomited up the book completely unharmed.

⁵ From there the mother came with the boy to Bishop Columba, who first ruled the see of Dunkeld in Scotland, and she was kindly received by him. The gracious boy restored to life by his prayer the holy bishop’s tame blackbird, which envious people had killed. Now the boy’s mother had two brothers who were bishops in Scotland, namely Meldan and Eata; and after she had lived with them for some time, she left her son in their keeping and set out for Rome.

⁶ The boy began to live as a solitary on a very high mountain called Doilwem, that is “the fair field”, having driven the demons from their ancient dwelling there; he brought a spring out of the hardest rock, and spent sleepless nights in constant prayer to God. The ancient enemy, envying his pious works, built a stone bath on the mountain’s brow, as though to mock the servant of God. It was, however, of enormous and shapeless size. But one day the servant of God, unwilling to endure it any longer, seized a huge club and pursued the enemy from place to place until he forced him to plunge over the mountain’s summit: and to this very day the footprints of both the saint and the enemy can be seen impressed upon the rocks — but the devil’s footprints are broad, twisted, large and misshapen. From that time no woman could enter that place unpunished.

⁷ While St Cuthbert was afterwards living in solitude in the land of the Picts, the daughter of the king of that province committed adultery with a young man and conceived; and when the king asked her more closely who had got her with child, she said: “That solitary young man who lives nearby deceived and forced me by his beauty and his smooth words.” The king, enraged and surrounded by a great troop of soldiers, came furiously to the man of God together with his daughter, and said: “Are you the one who under the guise of religion pollutes God’s sanctuary with every kind of filth and incest? See, here is my daughter, whom you did not shrink from corrupting by your deceits and mockery, and from committing so great a crime with her. Now, however, confess your guilt openly, and declare before us all how you seduced her — so we command.” The girl too, persisting ever more stubbornly, constantly and shamelessly asserted that he had committed this outrage. But the young man, wondering and knowing well that these were the devil’s deceits, was deeply distressed and, turning to God with all his mind, said: “Lord God, who alone are the knower of hidden things, make this work of iniquity manifest and declare it by your divine power here and now, that your holy name may be glorified, which is blessed for ever.” And as the man of God uttered these things with tears, the earth suddenly yawned open in the place where she stood and, swallowing her before the eyes of all, devoured her. That place was called “Coruen” by the inhabitants. The king, humbly begging pardon together with those who were present, was kindly granted it; but Cuthbert never afterwards admitted the company of women.

⁸ Now St Cuthbert, until the eighth year of his age, gave his mind solely to the games and sport of little children, taking pleasure in play and eager to join the gatherings of the little ones. One day, while he was engaged in games among a crowd of boys, one of the little children, barely three years old, suddenly ran up to him and began with a sort of aged steadfastness to urge him not to give himself to games and idleness, but rather to subject his mind and limbs to discipline. When Cuthbert spurned his admonition, the child grieved, falling to the ground and wetting his face with tears, and to Cuthbert as he comforted him among the others he said: “Why, most holy bishop and priest Cuthbert, do you do these things contrary both to your nature and your station? It does not become you to play among little children, you whom the Lord has consecrated as a teacher of truth even to your elders.” When Cuthbert heard this he at once left off the vanity of play, and from that time began to be steadier and more mature in spirit.

⁹ When a sudden pain seized his knee and it began to swell with a sharp tumour — so that, the sinews contracting in the hollow of his knee, he first carried his foot lifted from the ground, limping, and then, as the trouble grew worse, was deprived of almost all ability to walk — one day as he lay in the open air he suddenly saw a horseman clothed in white garments, honourable of countenance, and the horse he sat on of incomparable beauty. The man dismounted and, looking carefully at the ailing knee, said: “Boil wheaten flour in milk and anoint the swelling with it, and you will be healed.” And having said this he mounted his horse and went away. Cuthbert obeyed his command and after a few days was healed; and he knew that it was an angel who had given him this counsel at the Lord’s bidding.

¹⁰ From that time on, devoted to the Lord, he was often found worthy of being defended by angelic help while praying in difficulties, and also of being heard when interceding for others in danger. For when some rafts were carrying timber down the river Tyne to a nuns’ monastery situated not far from the mouth of that river on the south side, a wind suddenly rising from the west dragged the little boats as far as the river’s mouth and even into the ocean. Without delay the boy knelt on the bank to pray to the Lord, bowing his head to the ground; and straightaway the force of the wind, driven back, cast the rafts unharmed onto the land and set them down beside that same monastery in a suitable place.

¹¹ It happened that in remote mountains he was keeping watch over the flocks committed to him. One night, while his companions slept and he himself continued awake in prayer as usual, he suddenly saw light poured from heaven break through the darkness of the long night — in which choirs of the heavenly host came down to earth and, without delay carrying back with them a soul of surpassing brightness, returned to their homeland above. And giving thanks to God he called on his companions to praise God, saying: “Alas, wretched that we are, who, given over to sleep and idleness, do not deserve always to see the light of Christ’s watchful ministers. For my part, while I kept vigil in prayer for a short part of the night, I saw such great wonders of God: the gate of heaven was opened, and the spirit of a certain saint was led into it with an angelic escort — a spirit which now, while we grovel in deepest darkness, in everlasting blessedness sees the glory of the heavenly dwelling and Christ the King. And indeed I judge this to have been either some holy bishop or some outstanding man from among the faithful, whom I saw carried to heaven with such splendour of light and so many choirs of conducting angels.” And when morning came he learned that Aidan, bishop of Lindisfarne, a man of great virtue, had been snatched from the body at that very time and had sought the heavenly kingdom. And at once, commending the flocks he was pasturing to their owners, he resolved to seek a monastery.

¹² At that time, as evening was already drawing on and he saw that he could not finish his intended journey, he entered a certain deserted shepherds’ hut and gave himself to prayer; and he saw his horse, lifting its head high, cropping the thatch of the cottage roof with its mouth and pulling it down with effort — and among the falling hay of the roof a linen cloth rolled up fell down with it. He found half a loaf of warm bread and meat sufficient for one meal, wrapped in the linen. And giving thanks to God he gave half the bread to his horse and kept the rest for his own use.

¹³ When he came to the monastery of Melrose, Boisil, a holy man and provost of that monastery, seeing him and taught by the Holy Spirit, said only this to those standing by: “See a servant of God.” And hearing the reason for his journey, he brought him to Abbot Eata, afterwards bishop of Lindisfarne; and Cuthbert, receiving the tonsure, joined the company of the brethren. On entering the monastery he at once took care to keep the same observance of the regular life as the other brethren, being diligent in reading and working, in watching and praying.

¹⁴ It afterwards pleased King Aldfrith to give the place called Ripon to Abbot Eata for the building of a monastery. Eata built a monastery there and assigned Cuthbert to the duty of receiving guests. One day Cuthbert found a young man sitting at the gate and, with his accustomed courtesy, received him: he gave him water for his hands, washed his feet, dried them with a linen cloth and, because of the cold, humbly placed them in his own bosom to warm. He set the table, offered food and said: “I beg you, brother, take refreshment while I go and bring warm bread, for I hope it is now baked.” But when he returned he did not find his guest. He looked for tracks to see where he had gone, but found none anywhere — though fresh snow had covered the ground, which would easily have betrayed a traveller’s path and shown where he turned off. Astonished, the man of the Lord put the table back in the chamber; but returning immediately he was met by a fragrance of wondrous odour. And looking about the room for the source of so great a sweetness of smell, he saw lying there three warm loaves of unusual whiteness, and in awe he said: “I perceive that he whom I received was an angel of God, who came not to be fed but to feed. Look, he has brought loaves such as the earth cannot produce: for they surpass lilies in whiteness, roses in odour and honey in taste. Hence it is plain that they were not grown from our soil but brought from the paradise of delight.” From that time he was often found worthy to see and speak with angels, and when hungry to be refreshed with food prepared by the Lord.

¹⁵ Some time after this, the same Abbot Eata, with Cuthbert and the other brethren he had brought with him, was driven back home, that monastery having been granted to other monks to dwell in. Cuthbert was seized by the plague — the sickness of the pestilence by which very many throughout Britain were then perishing far and wide — but the brethren of the monastery spent a whole night in vigil, praying for his life and health. When Cuthbert learned of this in the morning he said with a cheerful face: “Give me my staff and shoes; why should I lie here any longer? For it is not to be doubted that the Lord has not despised the prayers of so many and such men.” And rising at once and leaning on his staff, within a few days he fully recovered. But because the swelling which had appeared on his thigh, gradually subsiding from the surface of his body, had slipped into his inward parts, he did not cease to feel some pain in his bowels for almost the whole of his life.

¹⁶ When Boisil saw that he was healed, he said: “You see, brother, that you are freed from the trouble you suffered; I tell you that you will not be touched by it again. But since death is near at hand for me, do not fail to learn something from me while I can still teach, for I have no more than seven days in which bodily health and the power of my tongue are granted me to teach.” And the seven days being completed as he had foretold, his soul departed the body in happiness. During those seven days he declared all the things that were to come upon Cuthbert. For he was a prophetic man of wonderful holiness, and had foretold to his abbot Eata that the same cruel pestilence would come, three years before it came; and among other things he also intimated to Cuthbert that he was to be ordained a bishop.

¹⁷ After Boisil, Cuthbert was made prior, and not only did he set before that monastery the precepts and the example of the regular life, but he also took care to turn the people round about, far and wide, from the way of foolish custom to the love of heavenly joys. For many were defiling the faith they held by wicked works, and some even in the time of the mortality, neglecting the sacrament of the faith in which they had been imbued, had recourse to the errant remedies of idolatry, as though they could restrain by incantations or amulets or other secrets of demonic art a plague sent by God the Creator.

¹⁸ For this reason the man of God, often going out from the monastery and frequently travelling on foot, preached the way of truth to the erring everywhere. It was then the custom among the English people that when a clerk or priest came into a village, they would all flock together at his command to hear the word of God, gladly hearing what was said, and more gladly still following by their deeds what they could hear and understand. Moreover, so great was Cuthbert’s skill in teaching, so great his love of persuading what he had begun, such the light of his angelic countenance, that none of those present presumed to hide from him the secrets of his heart: all openly made confession of what they had done, for indeed they supposed that their sins could in no way be hidden from him.

¹⁹ There was a certain abbess named Ebba, ruling a monastery in the place they call Coludi Urbem, that is Coldingham, honoured by all alike for her piety and her nobility, for she was the half-sister of King Oswiu. She sent to the man of God and asked him to deign to visit her and her monastery for the sake of exhortation. Coming therefore, he busied himself to open the way of righteousness to all, both by deed and by word.

²⁰ And while, as was his custom, he went out alone at night to pray while the others slept, and after the long watches of the dead of night returned home when the hour of matins drew near — one night a brother of that monastery, seeing him go out in silence, secretly followed his steps, wanting to learn where he went and what he did. The man of God entered the sea and spent the dark hours in wakeful praises amid the sounding waves. As dawn approached he came up onto the land and began again to pray on the shore with bended knees. And look, two four-footed creatures called otters, coming up from the deep sea onto the sand, busied themselves to warm his feet with their breath and to dry them with their fur; and their service done and his blessing received, they slipped back beneath their native waves. The man of God soon returned home and completed the canonical hymns with the brethren. But the brother who had presumed to watch these things, struck with great fear, came to the saint in the morning, prostrated himself on the ground and with tears begged pardon for the guilt of his foolish daring. To him Cuthbert said: “What is it, brother? What have you done? Did you try to spy out our night journey? But I forgive you this fault on one condition alone: if you promise to tell no one before my death what you have seen.” When he promised, he blessed the brother and kindly forgave the guilt his rashness had incurred.

²¹ One day, going out with a boy from the monastery to preach, wearied by the journey he asked the boy — to test him — where they could pass the night or take refreshment; and when the boy replied that he knew nothing at all, the holy man said: “Learn, son, always to have hope and faith in the Lord, for he who serves God faithfully never perishes of hunger.” And seeing an eagle flying on high he said: “Even through this bird’s ministry it is possible for the Lord to refresh us today.” And look, they suddenly saw the eagle sitting on the river bank, and the man of God said: “Do you see where our handmaid, as I foretold, is resting? Run, I beg, and look what food the Lord has sent us by her, and bring it quickly.” The boy ran and brought a good-sized fish which she had lately caught from the river. And the saint said: “What have you done? Why did you not give our handmaid her share?” And dividing the fish he sent back half of it to her, and refreshed himself in the nearby village.

²² While he was preaching the word of life to crowds in a certain village, he suddenly foresaw in spirit that the ancient enemy was at hand to hinder the work of salvation; and he at once took care to forestall by his teaching the snares he understood were coming, saying: “It is fitting, beloved, that whenever the mysteries of the heavenly kingdom are preached to you, you listen to them with intent heart and most watchful mind, lest the devil, who has a thousand arts of harming, should hinder you with vain cares from hearing of eternal salvation.” And look, the ancient enemy at once, bringing a phantom fire, set a nearby house alight, so that flames seemed to fly through the whole village and the crash shook the air with the help of the wind. Then nearly the whole crowd, leaping out as though to quench the fire, threw water — but true water could not quench the false flames until, at Cuthbert’s prayer, the author of the deceptions fled and carried his feigned fires back with him into the empty air. Seeing this, the crowd blushed deeply and on bended knees begged pardon for their fickleness of mind.

²³ On another occasion, at the entreaty of a certain devout woman, he prostrated himself on the ground and poured out devoted prayers to the Most High; and straightaway the blowing of the winds changed, and the whole danger of the fire utterly passed away.

²⁴ To a certain earl who suppliantly entreated him for his wife’s health, Cuthbert said: “For I know, though you are ashamed to say it, that she is troubled by a demon; and I know too that before we arrive there the demon will be put to flight and she will be freed, and running to meet us as we come she will diligently render us the service she was wont. For it is not only the wicked who are subjected to such torments, but by God’s hidden judgement even the innocent are sometimes taken captive by the devil in this world, not only in body but in mind.” And when everything had come to pass as he had foretold, the woman testified that at the first touch of the bridle of the horse on which the saint sat she felt herself released from all her distress.

²⁵ Dwelling many years in the monastery of Melrose and becoming illustrious by many signs of virtue, he was transferred by Abbot Eata to the monastery of Lindisfarne to instruct the brethren with a prior’s authority and show them examples of virtue. For Abbot Eata then ruled both monasteries.

²⁶ The man of the Lord therefore at once delivered the monastic way of life to the brethren by living it and teaching it alike; and those seized by various diseases and torments he restored to their former health by the constancy of his prayers, and some vexed by unclean spirits he caused to regain their accustomed health not only when present — by praying, touching, commanding and exhorting — but also sometimes when absent.

²⁷ Moreover, when disputing about the rule in the assembly of the brethren and wearied by the bitterest insults of those contradicting him, he would suddenly rise and, with calm face and mind, go out and dismiss the meeting; and none the less on the following day, as if he had suffered no former reproach, he gave the same counsels to the same hearers — until by the modest virtue of his patience and daily practice he gradually turned them to a better state of purpose and to what he wished.

²⁸ For he was pre-eminent in the virtue of patience, most invincible in bravely bearing all adversities inflicted on mind or body, and no less did he show a cheerful face amid sorrows. And so devoted was he to vigils and prayer that he is believed sometimes to have passed three or four nights in succession without sleep. Celebrating the solemnities of mass he could by no means fulfil the office without shedding tears. He was affable to all, fervent in reproving sinners, gentle in forgiving penitents. When they confessed their sins to him he himself first shed tears in pity, and he himself, just as he was, showed by his example what the sinner must do. He wore ordinary garments, conducting himself with such temperance that he was notable neither for their finery nor their squalor. Hence in that monastery it used to be observed by his example that no one should have clothing of varied colour or costly material, but that they should be content mostly with that kind of garment which the natural wool of sheep supplies.

²⁹ He received the monastic habit in the monastery of Melrose in the year of the Lord 651, in the fifty-fifth year from the coming of St Augustine into England, and the seventeenth from when the people of Northumbria received the faith of Christ through St Oswald and Aidan. Having spent fourteen years in that monastery he was transferred to the monastery of Lindisfarne, where as prior for twelve years he formed the brethren in all holiness of life. In the year of the Lord 676, the twenty-sixth of his monastic life, he entered the island of Farne — before him uninhabitable because of the phantoms of demons — where he served the Lord for nine years with wonderful cheerfulness of spirit.

³⁰ Now Farne is an island set in the midst of the sea, which does not — like the region of Lindisfarne — twice daily become an island at the coming of the ocean tide, which the Greeks call rheuma, and twice become contiguous with the land when the ebbing tide lays its shores bare; stretching seven miles round, it is cut off from this peninsula by some miles to the east, and is enclosed on one side by the very deep and on the other by the boundless ocean. And Lindisfarne, where once there was a noble community of monks and an episcopal see, takes its name from the little river Lindis which runs into the sea — a stream two feet wide that cannot be seen unless the sea has gone out.

³¹ When Cuthbert entered the island of Farne, all the fiery darts of the most wicked one were extinguished, and the ancient enemy himself with his whole band of satellites was driven far away. And since the place was dry and had no water, a prayer was poured out to God, and the next day the brethren found the pit they had dug at his command filled with water — which, keeping within its original bounds, knew neither how to overflow the floor by bubbling up nor how to fail those who drew from it.

³² For the man of God had so raised his mind from the care of his body to the cultivation of his soul alone that, once shod at Easter, he did not take off his shoes until a year later, at the washing of feet on the Lord’s Supper. Hence, because of the frequent bendings of his knees which he performed in prayer, he was found to have a long callus where his feet and shins meet. At length, shut away from the sight of men, he rarely spoke with those who came, and that only through a window.

³³ At first he accepted a little bread from the brethren for food and drank water from the spring. Then, taking tools, he dug and turned the soil and sowed wheat in springtime, but it yielded no crop at all up to midsummer. And when the brethren came to visit him as usual he said: “Perhaps it is not God’s will that wheat should grow for me in this place. Bring me barley, I beg, in case it can produce fruit. But if God will not give increase to that either, it is better for me to return to the monastery than to be maintained here by the labour of others.” And the barley, when it was brought, though committed to the earth beyond all time for sowing and fruiting, soon sprang up and produced an abundant crop.

³⁴ And when it began to ripen, birds came and busied themselves eagerly devouring it. The man of God went up to them and said: “Why do you touch crops you did not sow? Or do you perhaps need them more than I? Yet if you have received leave from God, do what he has permitted; but if not, depart and injure what is another’s no more.” And at the first word of his command the whole multitude of birds at once withdrew, and thereafter kept from invading his harvest.

³⁵ When he saw the crows tearing his house with their beaks and carrying off the straw with which it was roofed to build their nest, he checked them with a light stretching-out of his hand and ordered them now to cease from damaging the house. But when they spurned his command: “In the name of Jesus Christ, depart at once,” he said, “and presume to remain no longer in the place you are harming.” Scarcely had he finished the words when they sadly departed. After three days one of them returned and, piteously spreading his wings, bowing his head at the holy man’s feet and humbling his voice, begged pardon by such signs as he could. The saint, understanding, granted him leave to return. Having obtained permission to come back, he soon went off to fetch his mate; and without delay both returned, bearing a worthy gift — half a piece of pig’s fat. The man of God showed it to the brethren, declaring to them what care men must have for obedience and humility, since even the proudest of birds hastened to wash away the injury it had done him with prayers, laments and gifts. For many years afterwards they dwelt and nested in that island, nor did they presume to give any annoyance to anyone. For when a man serves the author of all creatures faithfully and with a whole heart, it is no wonder if every creature obeys his commands and wishes. But we for the most part lose our dominion over the creatures subject to us because we ourselves neglect to serve the Lord and creator of all.

³⁶ He asked the brethren, when they next came to visit him, to bring with them a beam twelve feet long for making the base of a little house. Returning, they did not bring the beam as they had promised; but he said to them with gentle words: “I believe that God will not forget my wish and my need.” And rising in the morning they saw that the tide of the sea had brought in the night a beam of the said length, and had laid it down in the very place where it was to be put into the building.

³⁷ No one went away from him without the joy of consolation; no grief of mind that anyone had brought accompanied them on their return. For he knew how to comfort the sorrowful with pious exhortation, to recall to the anxious the joys of the heavenly life, to show them both the prosperity and adversity of this frail world, and to lay open to the tempted the manifold deceits of the ancient enemy by which the mind that is stripped of brotherly or divine love is easily caught; but he who walked strengthened by unshaken faith could pass through the adversary’s snares as through spiders’ webs. “How often,” he said, “have they cast me headlong from the high rock! How often have they thrown stones at me as if to kill me! And they sought me with innumerable other temptations of phantoms to frighten me and to drive me from this place of striving; yet never could they harm either my body with any injury or my mind with fear.”

³⁸ The abbess Elfleda, sprung from royal stock, being altogether without the power to stand or walk, said amid the anguish of her mind: “Would that I had something of my Cuthbert’s things! I know for certain and believe and trust in the Lord that my limbs would soon be healed.” Not long after, there came one who brought her a linen girdle sent from him; she rejoiced greatly in the gift and, understanding that her desire had already been revealed to the holy man from heaven, girded herself with it — and soon rose up able to stand, and on the third day was restored to health.

³⁹ A certain nun too, brought low by sickness almost to death, bound her head by Abbess Elfleda’s command with the same girdle, and soon that same day fully recovered. But when the abbess afterwards looked for the girdle that had been put away in a chest, she could by no means find it. This is understood to have happened by divine dispensation — namely, that through two miracles of healing the holiness of the father beloved of God might be shown to believers, and occasion for doubting his holiness be taken from unbelievers. For if the same girdle were always at hand, the sick would have constantly flocked to obtain healing; and if anyone chanced not to deserve a cure, one unworthy of salvation would presume to disparage the saint’s power.

⁴⁰ Abbess Elfleda sent to the man of God, adjuring him in the Lord’s name that he would deign to see her and speak with her about her needs. He boarded a boat with the brethren and came to the island lying off the mouth of the river Coquet, which takes its name from it and is itself notable for its companies of monks — for the same abbess had asked him to meet her there. When she had enjoyed his conversation and heard many things she enquired of him, look, suddenly in the middle of the discourse she threw herself at his feet and adjured him by that terrible and venerable name of the heavenly King and his angels to tell her how long Egfrith, her brother, was to live and rule the kingdom of the English. “For I know,” she said, “that by the spirit of prophecy in which you excel you can tell even this if you will.” But he, dismayed at the oath, yet unwilling openly to reveal the secret she asked, said: “I wonder why you, a wise woman learned in the holy scriptures, wish to call the times of human life long — the psalmist saying ‘our years shall be considered as a spider’, and Solomon warning ‘if a man live many years and rejoice in them all, he ought to remember the darksome time and the many days which, when they come, are convicted of vanity’ — how much more does he whose life remains but a single year seem to have lived but a short time, when death stands at the gates?”

⁴¹ Hearing this she shed tears and lamented the dire presage; then wiping her face, with a woman’s boldness she again adjured him by the majesty of the most high Godhead to say whom Egfrith would have as heir, since he lacked sons and brothers. He was silent a little, then said: “Do not say that he lacks one: for he shall have a successor whom you will embrace, as a sister, with the same love as Egfrith himself.” At this she said: “I beg you, tell me in what places he is.” He answered: “Do you see this great and spacious sea, how many islands it abounds in? It is easy for God to provide himself from one of them a man to set over the kingdom of the English.” She understood then that he spoke of Aldfrith, who was said to be her father’s son and was then living in exile in the islands of the Scots for the study of letters — for Egfrith had proposed to make him a bishop.

⁴² And she said: “O with what varied purposes are the hearts of mortals divided! Some rejoice in wealth obtained, others loving wealth always lack it; you spurn the glory of the world though it be offered — and though you could attain to a bishopric, than which nothing is more exalted among mortals, you would prefer the enclosure of your desert to that rank.” And he: “I know that I am not worthy of so great a rank; yet nowhere can I flee the judgement of the heavenly Ruler. If he has decreed that I should be subjected to so great a burden, I believe that after a little while he will restore me free — and perhaps when no more than two years have passed he will send me back to the quiet of my solitude. But I command you in the name of our Lord and Saviour that you presume to tell no one before my death what you have heard from me.” And when he had expounded these and many other things she asked, he returned to his island.

⁴³ After this a not inconsiderable synod was gathered; in the presence of King Egfrith and Archbishop Theodore he was elected to the bishopric of Lindisfarne by the unanimous consent of all. But since he could by no means be drawn from his place by the many envoys and letters sent to him, the same king and Bishop Trumwine came with a great many religious and powerful men, bent the knee, adjured him by the Lord, shed tears and begged him, until they drew him, himself full of tears, to the synod — where, though greatly resisting, he was compelled by all to bow his neck to the episcopal office.

⁴⁴ He was ordained at York on Easter Day by Theodore, archbishop of Canterbury, seven bishops being gathered there and King Egfrith present, in the year of the Lord 685. On the very day of his ordination he and Eata exchanged episcopal sees, with the consent of King Egfrith, Archbishop Theodore, and the bishops Cedda and Cedd and five others. And so Eata sat at the church of Hexham while Cuthbert held the see of Lindisfarne.

⁴⁵ And King Egfrith gave him land in York from the wall of St Peter’s to the great western gate and down to the city wall towards the south. He also gave him the estate called Creik and three miles round it, so that he might stay there when travelling to and from York. There St Cuthbert established a company of monks and an abbot named Geue. To this the king added the city of Luel, that is Cair-leil, with fifteen miles round it — for there the holy man established a company of nuns, appointed an abbess and set up schools. After St Cuthbert had raised a boy from the dead in the village called Exenford, King Egfrith gave him the land called Cartmel and all the Britons with it. At that time King Egfrith fought against Wulfhere, king of the Mercians, son of Penda, and routed him after slaughtering his army. Afterwards Egfrith gave the man of God Melrose, that is Meuros, and Carram, and whatever belongs to them.

⁴⁶ Having therefore undertaken the bishopric, he protected the people committed to him with constant prayers and called them to heavenly things with wholesome admonitions; and what he taught should be done he himself first showed by doing. He gave food to the hungry and clothes to the naked, and went his way duly adorned with the other marks of the pontifical life.

⁴⁷ Now while King Egfrith was devastating the Picts with savage cruelty, the man of God came to the city of Lugubalia — which the English called Luel and is now called Carlisle. And as the citizens were showing him the city walls and a fountain in it wondrously built in former times by Roman work, he was suddenly troubled in spirit and turned a sorrowful face to the ground; then rising again and lifting his eyes to heaven he groaned deeply and said in no loud voice: “Perhaps even now the issue of the struggle has been decided.” But unwilling to reveal more of what had been shown him, he said: “Do you not see how marvellously the air is changed and troubled? And which of mortals can search out the judgements of God?”

⁴⁸ And on the next day, in a discourse given in the neighbouring monastery, he said among other things: “I beg you, brethren, according to the apostle’s admonition, watch, stand fast in the faith, quit you like men and be strong, lest perhaps some temptation come upon you and find you unprepared.” They supposed — because not long before the disaster of the plague had laid low both them and many round about with widespread slaughter — that he had spoken of a plague of this kind about to return. But he, taking up his discourse again, said: “Once, when brethren came to me while I dwelt alone in my island, and I repeated for the third time words of the same admonition, they — remarking that I did not suggest these things so earnestly without cause, and being afraid — said: ‘Let us do as you teach, for a great necessity lies upon us always to watch spiritually, girded against the snares of the devil and every temptation.’ Nor did I myself know that any new trial was coming; but I was admonished only by an instinct of the mind that the state of the heart must always be fortified against sudden storms of temptation. And when they returned from me to their monastery, they found that one of their number had died of the plague. As that destruction raged for nearly a year, almost the whole of that most noble spiritual company of fathers and brethren departed to the Lord.” While the holy bishop said these and like things, all thought he was speaking of the plague’s return. But on the following day one who had fled from the battle reported that the king had been destroyed with almost his whole army.

⁴⁹ A certain man named Herbert came to the man of God — bound to him by a covenant of spiritual friendship — who, living a solitary life in the island of that great lake from which the headwaters of the river Derwent spring, used to come to him every year and receive from him words of salvation. Cuthbert said to him: “Remember, brother Herbert, that whatever you need you should ask me and speak with me now; for after we part from one another we shall see each other no more in this world with eyes of flesh. For the time of my dissolution is at hand, and the putting-off of my tabernacle is swift.” Hearing this, Herbert fell at his feet and with groans and tears said: “I beg you by the Lord, do not forsake me, but remember your comrade, and beg the heavenly goodness that we may pass together to heaven to see his glory — we who have served him together on earth. For you know that I have always striven to live at the bidding of your mouth, and whatever I have done amiss through ignorance or frailty I have always taken care to correct at the judgement of your will.” The bishop gave himself to prayer and was at once taught in spirit that he had obtained from the Lord what he asked: “Rise, my brother,” he said, “and do not weep, but rejoice: for the Lord has granted us what we asked of him.” And departing from one another, at one and the same moment of time their spirits left the body and were borne together to the heavenly kingdom by angelic ministry.

⁵⁰ A certain earl met him and, bending the knee, gave thanks for his coming; and bringing him into his house, when their hands and feet had been washed in the manner of hospitality, as they sat together he began to tell him of the hopeless sickness of his wife, begging him to deign to bless her. Cuthbert blessed water that was brought and ordered it to be sprinkled over the sick woman. When this was done she received full bodily health and, blessing the Lord, offered the bishop drink.

⁵¹ A certain royal officer approaching death mixed bread blessed by the holy man with water in a cup, and drinking it, the pain in his bowels was driven away and he suddenly recovered.

⁵² At the same time a plague suddenly arising in those parts settled upon them with most grievous destruction — so that in villages once great scarcely a few scattered survivors remained, and sometimes none at all. St Cuthbert therefore did not cease to bring to those remnants the ministry of the word and the help of needful consolation. Coming into a certain hamlet, after he had brought the help of exhortation to all he found there, he said to his priest: “Do you think anyone still remains in these parts who needs our visitation and address, or may we now pass on to others, having seen all who were sick?” Looking all about, the priest saw a woman standing afar off who, having lost her son a little before, was holding in her arms his brother now at the point of death, testifying at once to her past and present misery. When he pointed her out to the man of God, Cuthbert went up to her and, blessing her, gave the boy a kiss and said to the mother: “Do not fear, nor be sad: the child shall be healed and live, nor shall anyone else in your house die of this plague of mortality.” And it came to pass so.

⁵³ When he sat at table in the monastery of Abbess Elfleda, he suddenly turned his mind from bodily feasting to the contemplation of spiritual things; his limbs lapsed from their office, the colour of his face changed, his eyes were fixed contrary to their wont, and the knife he was holding at table fell from his hand. When his priest, who stood by and ministered, saw this, he leaned to the abbess and said: “Ask the bishop what he has seen. For I know his trembling hand did not drop the knife without cause and his countenance is changed — but he has seen something spiritual which the rest of us could not see.” She turned to him at once: “I beg you, my lord bishop, tell me what you have just seen; for your slackened right hand did not lose the knife it held without reason.” He tried to disguise that he had seen some secret thing and answered jestingly: “Could I have eaten the whole day? I had to rest some time.”

⁵⁴ But she adjured him the more earnestly and insisted that he explain the vision, and at last he said: “I have seen the soul of a certain holy man carried to the joys of the heavenly kingdom by angels’ hands.” “From what place was it taken?” she asked again. He answered: “From your monastery.” She added a question about the name, and he said: “You shall tell me his name tomorrow as I celebrate mass.” Hearing this she at once sent to her larger monastery and learned that one of the shepherds, a man of good deeds, climbing carelessly into a tree, had fallen down and, his body crushed, had breathed out his spirit at the very hour in which the man of the Lord had seen him led to heaven. Going in to the bishop, who was then dedicating a church, she said, with a woman’s excitement as though bringing him something new: “I beg you, my lord bishop, remember at your masses my Hadwald” — for this was the man’s name — “who died yesterday falling from a tree.”

⁵⁵ In the monastery not far from the mouth of the river Tyne, the man of God was magnificently received by the abbess Verca, and asked to be given water to drink by his attendants. They brought him water drawn from the well; and when he had blessed it and tasted a little, he gave it to his attendant — who, drinking it, found the water as it were changed to the taste of wine.

⁵⁶ When two years had passed in the government of the bishopric, he threw off the weight of the pastoral charge and hastened to the island of Farne. And as the brethren who visited him had been told to eat a certain goose before his return to his cell — because they abounded in the food they had brought, they did not trouble to touch the goose. But when, refreshed, they wished to board their little boat, a sudden storm arose and took away all power of sailing; and it came to pass that for seven days, shut in by the raging sea, they remained sadly on the island.

⁵⁷ On the seventh day the man of God entered the house where they were staying to comfort them, and seeing the goose had not been eaten, with quiet face and cheerful words rebuked their disobedience: “Does not the goose still hang there uneaten? And what wonder if the sea does not let you go? Cook it therefore at once and eat it, so that the sea may grow calm and send you home.” When they had done so, the winds ceased, the sea grew calm from its raging, and with favouring breezes they returned home both joyful and ashamed.

⁵⁸ And while he was holding body and mind in the great rigour of his accustomed austerity, he was seized by a sudden sickness and wasted by disease for three weeks running. When a certain brother came to the window of his cell and, giving the customary sign, greeted him, he returned a sigh for a reply. The brother said: “What ails you, my lord bishop? Has your sickness perhaps touched you this night?” And he: “Yes, sickness has touched me this night.” The brother believed he spoke of his old infirmity, by whose almost daily annoyance he used to be exercised — not of a new and strange one. And Cuthbert added: “When God receives my soul, bury me in this dwelling beside my oratory.”

⁵⁹ On the fifth day after, when the brethren returned, the same brother, warming water, was washing his foot — which from the long-lasting tumour now had an ulcer and, with matter flowing, needed care. And the saint said: “It was done by God’s providence and will that, bereft of human presence and help, I should bear some adversities. For since I composed my limbs in this seat I have not moved hence, but remained here quiet five days and nights.” The brother said: “Did you really stay all that time without food?” And showing five onions the holy man said: “This has been my food these five days; for whenever I burned with excessive dryness and thirst I took care to refresh and cool myself by tasting these.” And one of the onions appeared less than half gnawed. And he added: “And my adversaries never brought me so many assaults as in these five days.”

⁶⁰ And he kept certain of the brethren with him, among whom was the old priest Beda, who used always to be familiarly present at his ministry and so was certainly privy to all his giving and receiving; whom he wished especially to keep with him so that, if he had not returned a worthy recompense for gifts received from anyone, he might recall it at his prompting and restore to each his own before he died.

⁶¹ “My wish,” he said, “was to rest here in the body, where I have fought — however little — my fight for the Lord, where I desire to finish my course, from where I hope to be lifted by the merciful Judge to the crown of righteousness. But I judge it more convenient for you too that I rest here, because of the inroad of fugitives or guilty persons of any kind — who when they flee to my body, since, such as I am, rumour has gone out of me that I am a servant of Christ, you will have to intercede for such with the powers of the world more often, and so endure much labour because of the presence of my body.”

⁶² But when they prayed long and earnestly and asserted that such a labour would be welcome and light to them, he at length said: “If you will override my ordinance and carry my body back there, it seems to me best that you bury it in the inner parts of your basilica, so that you yourselves may visit my tomb when you wish and it may be in your power whether any of those who come there shall approach it.”

⁶³ And when the brethren had given him thanks on bended knees, a certain brother who had long been sick of a flux of the bowels and could not be cured by physicians touched him and felt himself free of all that long infirmity’s annoyance.

⁶⁴ And as his power of speech gradually failed, he began to speak a few but strong words about peace and humility and of shunning those who prefer to struggle against these things: “Keep peace always among you and divine charity; be of one mind in counsel; keep mutual concord with other servants of Christ; receive those who come to you for hospitality’s sake familiarly and kindly, in no way reckoning yourselves better than other companions in the same faith and life. But with those who stray from the unity of catholic peace by wrong-headed living, have no communion. And if necessity compels you to choose one of two things, I much prefer that you dig up my bones from the tomb, take them with you and depart from these places, and dwell as sojourners wherever God shall provide, rather than in any way consenting to iniquity bow your necks under the yoke of schismatics. Strive most diligently to learn and observe the catholic decrees of the fathers. Practise with care too the rules of the regular life which the divine goodness has deigned to give you through my ministry. For I know that though I have lived contemptible to some, yet after my death you will see what manner of man I was, and that my teaching is not to be despised.”

⁶⁵ When he had said these and like things, he received the saving sacraments of the Lord’s body and, lifting his eyes to heaven and stretching his hands on high, sent forth his soul, intent on heavenly praises, to the joys of the heavenly kingdom — on the twentieth of March, in the year of grace 687, the third of his bishopric, the fifty-fourth from when King Oswald and Bishop Aidan established the episcopal see on the island of Lindisfarne, the thirty-seventh of his monastic life and the second of his anchoretic life; and his body, wrapped in the shroud which Abbess Verca had given him, was buried. And the water with which his body had been washed, poured into the mouth of a demoniac, restored him to health.

⁶⁶ And when eleven years had passed since his death, the brethren opening his tomb by the order of Bishop Eadbert found the whole body intact, as if he were still alive, with the joints of its limbs still pliable, far more like one sleeping than dead. The garments with which it was clothed were seen to be undefiled and marvellously fresh as of old. A certain brother of that monastery, bowed down by paralysis, pouring out a prayer to the saint with tears, seemed to see him touch his head with his broad hand; and soon awakening he felt he had recovered entire health.

⁶⁷ Up to this point the venerable priest Bede wrote the life of St Cuthbert; the things collected below were written in succeeding times.

⁶⁸ Almighty God, justly merciful and mercifully just, when he purposed to scourge the English people for their many offences, allowed a pagan people of Frisians and Danes to rule over them. These nations, coming into England under Ubba, leader of the Frisians, and Halfdan, king of the Danes, were at once divided into three companies and invaded the land in three parts. For one of them restored the walls of the city of York and, settling the region round about, abode there. But the other two companies, far fiercer, at once occupied the kingdom of the Mercians and the South Saxons, laying all waste with fire, plunder and slaughter, defiling divine things and human alike with barbarous savagery.

⁶⁹ One might then have seen priests cut down as they stood by the most holy mysteries, virgins carried off, infants torn from their mothers’ very breasts — some dashed to the ground, others hung up by the feet, others torn to pieces in the barbarians’ hands — with no sparing of sex or age or rank.

⁷⁰ And so, when all the royal seed through whom they feared had been wiped out by the rage of that storm, Alfred alone — father of King Edward — barely escaped their hands. For three years he led an uncertain and restless life in the woodlands of the Somerset district, having nothing to live on but what he acquired by plundering, hunting or fishing. At last, while his companions were busy catching fish and he was consoling the trouble of his banishment by meditating on the scriptures, a certain pilgrim stood by him begging alms in God’s name. Then the king lifted both hands to heaven and said: “I thank God, who today has visited his poor man in a poor man.” He quickly called his servant — who had nothing but a little wine and one loaf — and ordered half of it to be given to the poor man. The poor man gave thanks and departed; leaving no trace of his passing in the marshes he suddenly vanished, and what had been given was found whole; and those who had gone fishing brought home three boats laden with fish.

⁷¹ Then as the king slept there appeared to him one clad in pontificals, who admonished him to love God, keep justice, show mercy to the poor and reverence to priests, and added: “O my Alfred, Christ, looking upon your heart, puts an end to your miseries. For through my obtaining and God’s gift, the empire of all Britain shall be granted to you and your successors to dispose. But if you will be faithful to God and to me, you shall have me henceforth as an unconquerable shield of defence for crushing the strength of all your enemies. For tomorrow strong helpers will come to you, by whose aid you shall conquer your foes.” And the king said: “Who are you?” And he: “I am Cuthbert, that pilgrim of yesterday to whom you gave bread — I who care for you and yours. Remember this when it goes well with you.”

⁷² When morning came five hundred men well furnished with arms came to him; and opening the vision to them in order, he said: “Now we have seen what barbarous torments our parents, who have all been slain, suffered for their offences and ours by God’s just judgement; and we ourselves, who are sought out day and night for the like by the same men, we see that we no longer have any safe place of flight — indeed, we endure it as wretched fugitives. And so I ask that we diligently obey the admonitions of St Cuthbert our defender, that we be faithful to God and to him, flee the whirlpools of vice and love the practice of the virtues: so shall we surely experience the promised help of heavenly grace and the protection of his defence everywhere.”

⁷³ And so gathering his army at Aschdon he so crushed the pagans that, taking the choicest hostages, Alfred raised Guthrum, king of the Danes, with twenty of his nobles from the sacred font, peace being established everywhere round about.

⁷⁴ In those days Eardulf, bishop of Lindisfarne, and Eadred, abbot of that place, departing with certain brethren carried off the incorrupt body of the holy father; and wandering long from place to place, worn out at last by the long labour they resolved to seek a seat in Ireland. Hoisting sail they ploughed the sea; but the winds changing, the swelling waves rose, and the ship which could not be steered was tossed this way and that among the wandering billows. Meanwhile three waves of wondrous size came on them with a horrid roar and nearly filled the ship to the middle of the planks — and straightway were turned into blood, so that all who were in the ship seemed to be spattered with blood. At once all groaned, lamented, bent their knees and, prostrate with the whole body at the feet of the holy body, begged pardon for their foolish daring. And look, with winds blowing from astern, they came at once and without difficulty to the desired port. This devastation of Northumbria by Halfdan king of the Danes took place in the year of grace 875.

⁷⁵ And as the ship was turning on her side a gospel-book, falling from her, was carried into the deep sea — but afterwards, by St Cuthbert’s revealing, they found it. They also found in a field a red horse, and a bridle on a tree — as they had learned from the same saint — for the relief of their toil; and they harnessed it to a vehicle so that they could carry the heavenly treasure more freely.

⁷⁶ Meanwhile St Cuthbert, appearing in a dream to the same Abbot Eadred, commanded that Cuthred, son of Ardechenk — whom the Danes had sold as a slave to a certain widow — should have the price of his liberty paid, and that the army and those of the natives who remained, wavering without a king, should bring him into their midst and appoint him king with unanimous favour. Meanwhile the episcopal see which was at Lindisfarne was restored at Cunceceastre — now called Chester — six miles from Durham, in the year of grace 883; and the holy body remained there for 114 years.

⁷⁷ In the year of grace 793, the 107th from St Cuthbert’s death, the first most miserable devastation of the pagans filled the church of Lindisfarne with blood and rapine and almost destroyed it utterly. That army, coming in pirate ships, trod down holy things, dug under the altars, killed some and drowned others in the sea. In the following year, however, all those plunderers died.

⁷⁸ After this a certain king named Reginald, coming with a great fleet, either laid low in war or drove out of the country all the best men, and distributed St Cuthbert’s estates among his soldiers. One of these, like an untameable beast, often troubled the bishop and people with many injuries. The bishop, gently correcting him, began earnestly to admonish him to lay aside the rigour of his mind and, renouncing the worship of demons, acknowledge his Creator.

⁷⁹ But the man said: “Why do you daily cast this dead man’s threats in my face? What help, think you, will his avail you against me, in whom you hope? I call to witness the omnipotence of my gods and swear by their glory that I shall be an enemy both to that dead man and to you all: and from this learn plainly that neither he nor you can withstand me at all.” And look, at once, as if nailed through both feet in the doorway of the church, he began to grow pale and tremble, to look about with bloodshot and fierce eyes, and to show outwardly by the twitching of his limbs the pain he bore within. And at length, crying out horribly, he openly confessed the holiness of blessed Cuthbert and was compelled to render up his soul in that same place.

⁸⁰ When no long time had passed after this, the Scottish people entered the northern lands of England with a very great army gathered, and laid everything waste with slaughter, burning and plunder. Sparing neither rank nor age nor sex, it laid all low with unheard-of cruelty, and overran the monastery of Lindisfarne with the same ferocity.

⁸¹ King Cuthred met them at the place called Mundingdene, hastening with a very small force — for the shortness of the time did not permit an army to be gathered. And when the king saw so great a host, dissolved with exceeding fear because he had no strength to fight, yet shame and the place forbade him to flee from them — look, St Cuthbert appeared to him in a dream, and comforting him said: “Fear not, neither doubt, since you have God’s help and mine: for with God it is not impossible to save whether by many or by few. Your enemies — or rather mine — who now glory in their multitude, I will blot out before you like the mire of the streets. For though they still appear alive to men, in God’s sight they are all counted dead. And so, when the dawn of day first rises, charge upon them; for at the first onset the earth shall yawn and they shall fall living into the pit, and all shall perish together without loss of your men.”

⁸² The king, much comforted, laid the vision before his men; and when morning came he charged the enemy — but those whom they had just seen hurling javelins at them they found at that very moment nowhere, not even one: for, as the man of God had foretold, the earth opened its mouth before them and, swallowing them alive, devoured them all.

⁸³ In the year of grace 995 Bishop Aldhun, forewarned by a heavenly oracle to flee with all speed from the coming rage of pirates, took the incorrupt body of St Cuthbert — in the 113th year since it had been laid at Cunceceastre — to Ripon, where he stayed four months.

⁸⁴ When they were bringing the holy body back to its former place and had come to the eastern edge of Durham, to the place called Wardley, the vehicle could by no device be moved further. The bishop therefore commanded all to persevere for three days in fastings, vigils and prayers, and devoutly to ask God’s will with all earnestness. This being done, it was revealed to them that they should carry it to Durham and there prepare a place for it to rest.

⁸⁵ Coming to Durham, the bishop found a place fortified by nature but not easily habitable. With the help of the whole people and of Earl Uhtred, all the forest was cleared, a church was built, and the holy body honourably placed in it. From the first establishment of the see of Lindisfarne to this year are reckoned 361 years, and 309 from St Cuthbert’s death.

⁸⁶ When Bishop Aldhun died, Edmund, a devout man, was chosen for the bishopric — a man whom a priest had heard marked out as bishop when, as a deacon ministered with him at the altar, a voice as from the holy father’s tomb called him three times in the middle of the canon.

⁸⁷ Under this prelate a certain priest named Elfred, a man of good deeds, admonished by a divine oracle, went round the ancient monastic sites and raised from the earth the bones of the saints — namely of the anchorites Balther and Bilfrid, of the bishops Acca and Alcmund, and of King Oswin, and also of the abbess Ebba. Some part of their relics he laid with the body of St Cuthbert. He also transferred to his disciple’s church the bones of Boisil, St Cuthbert’s master; and moreover he translated to Durham the bones of the venerable priest Bede, buried at Jarrow.

⁸⁸ In the time of Bishop Egelric, Edmund’s successor, a certain priest who was married to a wife led a life unworthy of the priestly office. One day when many asked him to celebrate mass for them — which, inasmuch as he had slept with his wife that night, he refused to do — at last, wearied by many entreaties and overcome rather by human shame than fear of God, he began to celebrate mass.

⁸⁹ But at the hour when he should take the most holy mysteries, looking into the chalice he saw the particle of the Lord’s body placed in it changed into a most foul shape with blood, so that it seemed to have rather the colour of pitch than of bread and wine. Straightway understanding his guilt he began to grow pale and to tremble greatly, as if already given over to the avenging flames. He shuddered to take it as though it were his own death; he wished to pour it on the ground but, since it had been consecrated, feared to do that. At last with great trembling and dread he consumed it — but it was of such bitterness that nothing could be more bitter to the taste. When the mass was done, hastening to the bishop and prostrate at his feet he told the matter in order, and, penance being laid upon him, he strove thereafter to live chastely and religiously according to his bishop’s bidding.

⁹⁰ There was a certain man of evil deeds who, sleeping in a field, when he woke felt a serpent tightening itself round his neck. He seized it with his hand and dashed it to the ground, but at once it wrapped itself round his neck again. Again he threw it to the ground, but in the same instant felt himself strangled by it again. So he could always cast the serpent into fire or water or onto the earth, but how it returned to his neck he could not tell. Several times he cut it into pieces with a blade, but straightaway the same serpent was coiled round his neck. At first it was small, but growing little by little to greater and greater size it hurt him not at all by infusion of venom. But whenever he entered St Cuthbert’s church, the serpent left him at the very entrance; when he came out it coiled round him as before. So when he had suffered this trouble for a long time, at last he found a wholesome counsel: persevering in prayer for three days and nights without ceasing in St Cuthbert’s church, on coming out he was entirely freed from the serpent’s torment.

⁹¹ A certain notorious robber, offending many by plunder, murder and arson, was at length captured and given into bonds. Fearing death greatly, with contrite heart and humbled spirit he suppliantly begged blessed Cuthbert for his deliverance; and without delay, his fetters loosened and the prison door opened, he entered St Cuthbert’s monastery. A certain very powerful man named Barcwith pursued him with his men and, kindled with exceeding fury, said: “Why do we delay? Why do we not break down the doors? For the peace of this dead man is not so to be kept that thieves, robbers and murderers who flee here should insult us by escaping unpunished.”

⁹² Scarcely had he finished the words when, look, as it were an arrow coming from above and piercing his head, it declared it had reached his very heart. So falling to the ground, howling and grinding his teeth, he ended his life. And when he was buried, so great a stench rose from his tomb for half a year that many tried to avoid passing by way of that place.

⁹³ In the time of William the Conqueror, Robert, earl of Northumbria, came to Durham and, surrounded by those over whom he was meant to rule, was killed with all his men because of his cruelty. The king, offended by this, sent his army there. Then the bishop, taking the holy body, hastened towards Lindisfarne. And although the sea was full, they found a dry way in at the place where a path is wont to be at ebb-tide. Soon all entering with joy reached the shore of the island with dry feet; and the soldiers carrying the bier — who afterwards became monks — testified with great compunction of heart how the waves of the sea closed in behind their footsteps.

⁹⁴ Robert de Mowbray, having obtained the earldom, stirred by hatred against St Cuthbert’s church, harassed it with calumnies and crushed it with injuries: to vex its goods, dissipate its rights and do whatever harm he could — and began to threaten he would do more than he could. Thus he made the church at Tynemouth, St Cuthbert’s own right, a prey to his violence; and at last the monks who had long dwelt there were expelled with violence — indeed, the saint himself was expelled in his monks — and the church was transferred into the dominion of Paul, abbot of St Albans. The monks of Durham strove to recall that abbot by warning, begging and forbidding, lest in accepting the plunder he should do injury to the church’s purpose and station; but neither anyone’s intercession nor reverence for the venerable confessor or his order could bend him from accepting and keeping the plunder.

⁹⁵ The monks therefore being sent ahead, when he himself followed and first saw that church he was seized by sudden sickness: he who had come sound and whole was carried home dead. But the earl, besieged in the same place for two days by the king’s officers, was driven to flee wounded to the church; and in the church he had seized from the saint he was captured and dragged out, and brought to the king bound in chains and given into custody.

⁹⁶ In the year of the Lord 1104, the four hundred and eighteenth from St Cuthbert’s death, because of the unbelief of certain prelates, the body of St Cuthbert, together with the head of St Oswald, was found incorrupt, and more like one sleeping than dead.

⁹⁷ In almost none of the churches which blessed Cuthbert has honoured by the presence of his sacred body is there, it is agreed, any leave for women to enter even to this day. This custom first arose for this reason: a few days before, the monastery at Coldingham had been consumed by flames through the fault of carelessness — and indeed because of the malice of those dwelling in it, as is told below in the life of Abbess Ebba — and not long after, the man of the Lord Cuthbert, raised to the episcopal office, by a grave interdict separated all society of women from the brethren, lest their indiscreet company should breed some danger to the servants of God in their purpose, and joy to the enemy in their ruin. Therefore, with the consent of all, both men and women, he forbade all society of women in the present and the future, and removed their entrance from the very threshold of his church.

⁹⁸ Moreover, when St Cuthbert had been consecrated bishop, he always used to forbid his people the company of women. And while he was preaching the word of God to the people in a certain monastery, he saw several laughing out loud and nudging their companions as if inviting them to watch some wondrous spectacle. Looking round, the bishop saw a certain being in the likeness of a woman, marvellously radiant, gleaming in hair and face and with a wondrous variety of shining garments — indeed she surpassed every human form in beauty, and her adornment surpassed all the skill of earthly weaving. Hence whoever had looked upon her face had almost gone out of themselves through the wantonness of excessive lust. The bishop therefore hastily blessed water and threw it at the phantom image; and it at once vanished from all eyes — and tearing out a great part of the church wall it poured such a stench upon the nostrils of all whom its tricks had deceived that scarcely anyone could remain.

⁹⁹ To them the bishop said: “Look, you have now seen with your bodily eyes why I long ago decreed to keep women so strictly from every bound of my church. For the poison of deception is never more quickly introduced than by the cunning snare of women, which expelled frail Adam from paradise. And so from this time I forbid the approach of women in my churches henceforth, since I permit neither you nor mine to be held back from God’s service by the spirit of fornicating falsehood which you have seen.”

¹⁰⁰ At the time when St Cuthbert first chose his seat of rest at Durham, a certain veteran, a man of good deeds, had the keeping of St Cuthbert’s body, and stood in such familiarity with him that he used sometimes to cut his hair and nails and, holding familiar converse with him, was instructed by him in many things.

¹⁰¹ Certain sailors, a storm rising at sea, their tackle broken and the joints of the planks almost loosened, devoutly implored with tears the aid of blessed Cuthbert in so great a peril of life. Without delay the holy father, vested in pontificals and sitting in bodily form in the ship’s prow, divided the raging sea with his pastoral staff; the waves were like mountains on the right and on the left, yet the ship, held up by so great a helmsman, could not swerve from its path. And the saint of God comforted them: “Fear not! I am Cuthbert, whom you have so often invoked, come at your devout prayers to bring you to the port of safety.” And so, steering the ship with his staff and bringing them to the desired port, he straightway vanished from their eyes.

¹⁰² A certain man named Elfred, bearing the key of St Cuthbert’s tomb, used to trim the saint’s overflowing hair by cutting, part and arrange his locks with an ivory comb, and clip his fingernails to a seemly roundness. It happened that a very small mouse entered the tomb’s opening, made a nest and produced a litter in a certain corner. And so the saint of God, appearing to a certain clerk of the church, said: “Tell Elfred to expel as quickly as possible this creature that fouls my house with her young. For she has defiled my house and disturbed the repose of my rest.” The creature was therefore carefully sought and found with her young; and Elfred, moved by anger, would have dashed them all to pieces had not the kind confessor commanded them to be spared from harm.

¹⁰³ After blessed Cuthbert’s death the place of Farne was held in the greatest honour. Thus on a certain occasion two monks of Durham were offering to God in that island an unceasing sacrifice. It happened on the night of the Lord’s birth that, when they had celebrated the first mass about midnight and resolved after a short interval that each in turn should give himself more privately to prayer, the one who was a layman, wearied by the night’s labour, gave his limbs a little sleep while the other remained in vigil in prayer in the choir.

¹⁰⁴ And look, he suddenly saw all the lamps kindled, the doors opened of their own accord, two tonsured men enter with lighted tapers and a certain mature man in pontificals proceed to the altar. Confession and absolution being said, they began the mass belonging to the day of the Nativity; and when the pontiff had begun “Gloria in excelsis Deo”, what remains was chanted as it were by a multitude of angels with sweet modulation. But the brother who was worthy to see these things was weighed down by so great a burden that amid the sacred mysteries he could scarce raise himself from the floor. And so, all being duly completed, that whole company returned in the same order as it had come. That brother knew in spirit that it was blessed Cuthbert who there displayed so great marvels of virtue. He could hear and see all these things, but could not discern faces because of the splendour of the light.

¹⁰⁵ A certain clerk who had served blessed Thomas before his exile, suffering for some years vomiting from the mouth, flux of blood through the hinder parts and such pain in the pupils of his eyes that he could see darkness rather than light, unceasingly implored the martyr’s aid at Canterbury for fifteen days. At last St Thomas appeared to him and said: “Rise quickly and go to St Cuthbert, by whose merits you shall obtain mercy and the grace of health. For I will that mine should flee to him for the grace of salvation from their sickness, and that his servants and ministers should come languishing to me.” Hastening therefore to Durham, made whole on the first day of his coming, he returned with joy.

¹⁰⁶ A certain knight returning from pilgrimage — a violent storm having arisen at sea — when the fear of death compelled them, all eagerly cast their horses and whatever they had into the sea. When the waves were at last lulled to calm and the knight had reached port, troubled at the loss of his horse he began to supplicate St Cuthbert with prayers. And look, seeing as it were a crow’s head afar off, he saw his horse after two days’ submersion hastening quickly to the shore.

¹⁰⁷ A certain woman returning at night with her husband from a feast proposed, because of the muddy pits in the streets, to pass through St Cuthbert’s churchyard and afterwards to expiate the sin by almsgiving. And when she set foot within the churchyard she began to shudder at something and cry out that she was beside herself. Falling to the ground she was carried home with difficulty and died the same night.

¹⁰⁸ The wife of a certain rich man, hearing that the church’s ornaments were of varied beauty, kindled by feminine greed and unable to restrain her impulse, took her way through the churchyard. And look, at once losing her senses she bit through her tongue and cut her throat with her own hand, and ended her life.

¹⁰⁹ The wife of Earl Tosti, loving St Cuthbert, gave his church various ornaments and promised to give still more, with many possessions of land, if she might be allowed to enter his church and worship at his tomb. But not daring to try so great a thing she sent one of her maids ahead at a secret hour. And when she set foot in the churchyard she suddenly began to be driven back as if by a violence of winds and to fail in strength; and so, gravely sickened, she ended her life shortly after in great torment and pain.

¹¹⁰ A certain knight named Boso, enraptured for three days, remained as though dead without any sense; but returning to himself on the third day he said to the prior of Durham: “I am bidden to come to you, to confess my sins to you, and to order the rest of my life — which yet will not be long — by your command.” And so confessing his sins with great groaning, he began to tell such things: “I was following,” he said, “a guide who went before me through places both dreadful and pleasant. All the monks of St Cuthbert’s church were gathered in a certain place, before whom a cross of great splendour was borne. All walked in procession straight ahead, turning aside nowhere — except two who swerved a little from the right order.

¹¹¹ “And his guide said to him: ‘Go tell Prior Turgot that he should exhort them more diligently to the salvation of their souls. Show him by name those two whom you saw swerving from their order; for they stray not a little from the right way, and therefore let them make haste, having confessed their sins more purely, to lead a more amended life — for until now they have never made a clean and right confession.’

¹¹² “Then, led across a very broad field, I saw all the natives of this province sitting on horses and bearing spears. And my guide said: ‘All these shall quickly perish’ — and they all vanished like smoke from before his eyes. After them I saw innumerable Frenchmen, more in number and in greater pride, who at once with all their glory, as it seemed to me, were suddenly swallowed by a gaping of the earth and disappeared. Then I saw a great crowd of women stretched across the field; and while I marvelled enough at their multitude, my guide said to me: ‘These wretched women, and those who glory to the heaping up of their misery in unanimity of depraved deeds and fear not to be entangled in carnal enticements — eternal woe and the most cruel torment of the flames of hell await them.’

¹¹³ “Then in a place of vast and foul solitude I saw a house of great height made entirely of iron. While its door was repeatedly opened and shut, look, suddenly William, bishop of Durham, putting out his own head, asked where the monk Godfrid was — ‘for he,’ he said, ‘should be here at my pleasure’ — for the bishop had made him the steward of his bishopric. Then my guide said: ‘Know for certain that the bishop will die very quickly; and he whom he named will also follow him in death, though somewhat later. But you will live a short time; therefore, that you may escape God’s wrath, make a clean confession of your sins, amend yourself according to the prior’s judgement, and disclose to him all that has been shown you.’”

¹¹⁴ And those two whom he saw swerving from the order of the procession, believing his words, thereafter took care to amend their lives.

¹¹⁵ In the third year after the death of the venerable priest Bede, Ceolwulf, king of Northumbria — to whom Bede had formerly written the Ecclesiastical History of the deeds of the English — leaving the kingdom to Eadbert, son of his uncle, entered the monastery of Lindisfarne and, receiving the monastic tonsure, gave to St Cuthbert the royal treasures, and Warkworth and Whittingham with other villages. By the procurement of King Ceolwulf, now made a monk, licence was given to the monks of the church of Lindisfarne to drink wine or beer; for before they used to drink only milk or water, according to the ancient tradition of St Aidan the bishop.

¹¹⁶ And since we have made mention of King Ceolwulf’s taking the monastic habit, it has pleased us to insert here for the notice of future ages the other kings of England who, for God and the desire of the heavenly kingdom, took the monastic tonsure and left their kingdoms. About the year of grace 760 Eadbert, king of Northumbria, when all his adversaries had either been subjected to him or overthrown in war — to whom also Pippin, king of the Franks, had sent many royal gifts — in the twenty-first year of his reign, setting his son Osulf on the throne, preferred the service of God to all riches and, taking the monastic tonsure, pleased God ten years in good works. About the year of grace 705 Ethelred, king of the Mercians, son of Penda, after reigning strenuously for thirty years, was made a monk at Bardney and was buried there. At the same time Offa, king of the East Saxons, taught by the exhortation of the holy virgin Kyneswide whose espousals she had spurned to sigh for heavenly loves, went to Rome and there, tonsured as a monk, devoutly ascended to the heavenly kingdom. At the same time also Coenred, king of the Mercians, kindled with heavenly desire, entered upon the monastic life at Rome and ended his life laudably. And King Fremund, as may be seen more clearly below in his life, left the glory of his kingdom and led the life of a hermit. About the year of the Lord 620 Sigebert, king of the East Angles, living a holy life under the monastic habit in the monastery he had built, was unwillingly drawn out of the monastery to strengthen the soldiers and, holding a rod in his hand, was slain by the pagan king Penda with almost his whole army. Moreover about the year of the Lord 670 Sebba, king of the East Saxons, after the thirtieth year of his reign, living the monastic life, knew the day of his death by angelic revelation.

¹¹⁷ And searching also the deeds of the kings of England, I have found five kings of the kingdom of Northumbria crowned with martyrdom — namely Alcmund, Edwin, Oswald, Oswin and Alwold; and of the kingdom of the East Angles likewise four: Sigebert slain by Penda, Ethelbert by Offa, Edmund by Ingvar, and Sigebert by his own nephews. Of the kingdom of the Mercians, Kenelm and Wistan attained a glorious martyrdom; and Edward, holding the monarchy of all England, was crowned with martyrdom. I have also found, by curiously searching the different kingdoms of England, twenty other kings besides the same princes and friends of God slain by the sword or by poison, whether by pagans or by enemies. Moreover Cuthred, king of Northumbria, and Alfred, king of the West Saxons, gave to St Cuthbert all the land between the river Tees and the Tyne, and added to the bishopric of Durham all that pertained to the bishopric of Hexham. And in the time of King William the First, Edgar, king of Scotland, gave to St Cuthbert and the monks of Durham Berwick with its appurtenances, and Coldingham.

A Further Story #

¹ A certain holy man, endowed with incredible power of casting out demons, used to heal the possessed not only when present and by word alone, but sometimes also when absent, by threads of his hair-shirt or by letters sent to them. And while he was thronged with wondrous affection by the people, the prefects, the counts and the judges of various powers — for it was said that he abstained utterly from every drink and was sustained on only seven figs for food — so from virtue came honour and from honour vanity began to creep in.

² When he first felt this evil growing strong in him, he tried long and much to shake it off, but it could not be wholly driven back or silenced in his conscience — the vanity persisting as the virtue persisted: for everywhere the demons confessed his name, and he could not shut out the people thronging to him. Meanwhile the hidden poison crept in his breast, and he at whose nod demons were driven from the bodies of others could not purge himself of the secret thoughts of vanity. He is said therefore to have prayed to God with all his prayers that, the devil’s power being permitted over him for five months, he might become like those he himself had healed.

³ And so that powerful man, renowned through all the East for signs and wonders — before whose doors the highest powers of this world had prostrated themselves — was seized by a demon, held in chains, and endured all that the possessed are wont to suffer. At last in the fifth month he was purged — not only of the demon but, what was more useful and desirable for him, of vanity.

⁴ But as I recount these things, our own unhappiness, our own weakness comes to my mind. For who, if a mere child shall greet him or one woman praise him with flattering words, is not straightway lifted up with pride, not at once puffed up with vanity? And if he has no consciousness of holiness, yet being called a saint by the adulation of fools, he will think himself most holy. And should even a few signs of power follow for him, he would think himself an angel. Moreover, though he is conspicuous neither in deeds nor in virtue, if anyone is promoted to a higher rank he broadens his fringes, rejoices in salutations, is puffed up with greetings, and runs here and there. And he who was before perhaps wont to go on foot, proud of Christ’s patrimony, is mounted on a foaming horse. Content before to dwell in a small and mean cottage, he raises lofty panelled ceilings, builds palaces, carves doors, spurns rough clothing and desires soft garments.