Here Begins William’s Prologue to Book Two of the Deeds of the Bishops of the English. #

¹ Thus far, with Christ’s support, I have carried the first book forward, in which I seem to have done nothing short of my promise, recounting whatever memorable matter concerning the bishops of Canterbury or Rochester our knowledge was able to reach. Now, therefore, according to the plan of the Deeds of the Kings, the proper order would require me to proceed at once to those of the West Saxons, were it not that the proximity of the places warns me to put before them the bishops of the East Saxons and the East Angles. As for my having followed a different order of kingdoms elsewhere, the reader should know that this was done from necessity: the greatest kingdoms were first enumerated, for which both the years and the deeds survived, and only then were added those for which almost everything had been obscured by the decay of time and the smallness of their power. Here, however, it might be counted an injustice if I deprived bishoprics of their proper places, since their succession is neither broken nor their fame so obscure. In this second book, therefore, I shall enumerate the names of the bishops of the East Saxons and the East Angles, and after them I shall set down all the bishoprics of West Saxony. Nor will my attention pass over any abbeys that I know within the dioceses of these bishoprics, or the saints resting in them; and, by arranging everything briefly, I shall, as far as I can, provide for the knowledge of the studious and spare the fastidious from weariness. I ask, however, that this indulgence be granted me: that no one count it as a fault that I have transferred here, in the same words and sense, certain things that I have set down elsewhere. I did this so that the sequence of matters, which would otherwise have to be sought elsewhere, might be set out more elegantly in one place; and because, if I have said something suitably elsewhere, I did not think I could say it more suitably here.

Of the Bishops of London. #

¹ Not far from Rochester, about twenty-five miles away, stands the noble city of London, rich in the wealth of its citizens and crowded with the commerce of merchants coming from every land, especially from Germany. Hence it happens that, when provisions are dear everywhere in England because of a poor yield from the harvests, necessities are sold and bought there with less profit to the sellers and less expense to the buyers than elsewhere. The famous River Thames carries foreign merchandise into the city’s harbour; rising from a little spring about eighty miles above the city, it bears its name for more than seventy miles beyond it, for at Dover it is swallowed up by the sea. Mellitus was the first to occupy the episcopal chair here, by appointment of the blessed Augustine. Mellitus, an abbot at Rome, had not come to England with Augustine, but was later sent to reinforce the preachers. Once ordained bishop, he had his see in the church of the Apostle Paul, which Ethelbirht, King of Kent, had built in London. For Sebirht, King of the East Saxons, the son of his sister Ricula and therefore his nephew, was subject to his rule, and London belonged to Sebirht. In ancient times the East Saxons, South Saxons and East Angles were subject to the king of the Kentish people, because Hengest, the first king in Kent, had obtained those provinces from Wrtigern, King of the Britons, not by war but by deceit. After Ethelbirht, however, the South Saxons became subject to the dominion of the West Saxons, while the kings of the Mercians ruled over the other two peoples, until the power of the West Saxons seized and subjected both. But more of this later. At that time Mellitus, with God working with him [Mark 16:20] and aided by Ethelbirht’s support, spread the Christian faith admirably through the province. He also founded a monastery of the blessed Peter in the western part of the city, having, as the story goes, been instructed by a message from the Apostle himself. Peter is said to have appeared there in person and dedicated the newly built church himself, and through a peasant to have sent the bishop a most welcome gift, namely a great fish. Nor was Mellitus willing to doubt the report when he saw a man of rustic simplicity, who was not even a Christian, bringing him a message from Peter and accurately describing the features of his body, which Mellitus recognised from a painting. The story was therefore believed, and the rite of consecration was not repeated, since its completion was shown by candles lit throughout the church, crosses made there, water sprinkled no less widely, and unmistakable traces of consecrated oil in the proper places. Human diligence yielded to divine service, and with a prophetic voice Mellitus declared that the monastery would one day be of great importance, since the Apostle had performed episcopal service there. Gradually the truth of the prophecy became evident, especially in the time of the last King Edward, who gathered a larger community of monks there and built the church in a new style of architecture. King William raised the place no less, but indeed much more, by granting it large revenues from estates, because it was there that he received the insignia of the kingdom. A custom therefore became established among later generations that, in memory of Edward who was buried there, those about to reign should receive the royal crown there. After the deaths of Ethelbirht and Sebirht, Mellitus was driven from his see by the petty kings who succeeded them and came to Canterbury. There he was received amid the great storm of anxieties that tormented the hearts of his companions, and, taking Justus with him, withdrew to Gaul, to wait and see whether the tempest of the times might perhaps clear. Yet divine inspiration intervened and, softening the heart of King Ethelbald towards belief, caused both men to be recalled promptly. Justus regained his own see without difficulty, but Ethelbald, for lack of sufficient power, was unable to restore Mellitus. Thus Mellitus remained without his office for some time, but afterwards, when Laurentius died, he became Archbishop of Canterbury. The stain of unbelief endured among the East Saxons until the time of their King Sigebert, who, at the urging of Oswi, King of the Northumbrians, was baptised by Bishop Finan and, through Bishop Cedd, brought his people back to the faith which they had driven out together with Mellitus. Cedd was the second Bishop of London, but he was buried in Northumbria at his own monastery of Lestingai. You will find these matters treated more fully in Bede, who also records that Cedda, the brother of this Cedd, had his episcopal see and burial place at Lichfield. After Sigebert, his brother Suuithelm reigned. When he died, Sighere and Sebbi held the kingdom under the rule of Wlfer, King of the Mercians. Sebbi preserved an unblemished faith and was granted a splendid end. During a time of plague Sighere broke the seal of faith, but through Wlfer’s insistence he recovered it by the ministry of Bishop Jaruman. After Cedd’s death, this Wlfer, corrupted by money, installed a certain Wine, who had been Bishop of the West Saxons, upon the vacant throne. In the years that followed, Theodore, who had been sent by Pope Vitalian as Archbishop of Canterbury, appointed the venerable Erkenwold as bishop for the people of London. Both recent report and ancient memory confirm that he was distinguished by miracles. The most notable of these occurred when, suffering from infirmity in his feet, he was travelling through the parishes in a litter and happened to come to the bank of a very violent river. His companions hesitated there, because in his weakness he could cross neither on horseback nor on foot, and there was a fear that the force of the water would overwhelm the vehicle. Suddenly the torrent disappeared, and the whole river fled from that place. As soon as the bishop and his company had crossed, the river, which had stood apart and gathered itself into a heap with rippling waves, returned to its channel. Bede is the authority for the claim that many infirm people were healed by touching that same litter. Erkenwold founded two monasteries, one for himself and the other for his sister. His own is called Chertsey, which, with the assistance of a certain Frithewold, who acted as a sub-king under Wlfer, he filled with wealth and monks. Religious life flourished there and there was no lack of necessities until the Danes, as they did with everything else, utterly ruined the place, burning the church together with the monks and abbot. But King Edgar, an incomparable prince, was not content with the new monasteries which he was building everywhere, partly himself and partly through bishops, unless he also restored the old ones. He completely rebuilt this one, gathering ancient charters from every quarter, so that by their testimony he might recover for the monastery the estates which certain magnates had seized as their own, either by force or by the authority of long possession. His sister’s convent is called Barking, situated eight miles from London. There she, named Ethelburga, has joined with her as companions in holiness and authority Hildelid, her immediate successor, to whom there survives a book sent by the blessed Aldhelm On the Praise of Virgins, and Wifild, almost a woman of our own time, who preceded the days of King Edgar by only a few years and who by the grace of her holiness makes up for the antiquity of the others and, I would almost say, surpasses it. For one who prays asks nothing in vain, provided faith is not lacking [Matthew 21:22; Mark 11:24]. I truly acknowledge that through the prayers of these women that place has never been entirely destroyed, and now even in the time of the Normans, like many other places, it has been raised to the highest degree in the number of its nuns and the beauty of its buildings. Erkenwold is therefore regarded as London’s greatest saint, and through the speed with which prayers are answered he has deserved no small favour among the canons. The others lie beneath so deep a cloud of obscurity that even their tombs are unknown. Indeed, this same misfortune has afflicted all the episcopates, so that among the inhabitants of that place it is regarded as a matter of great distinction if someone knows even how to recite the names of its bishops. As for their deeds or burial places, not a word is known. These, then, are the names of Erkenwold’s successors: Waldhere, Inguald, Egulf, Wigeth, Edbriht, Edgar, Kenwalk, Edbald, Hethbert, Osmund, Ethelnoth, Celbert, Cerulf, Swithulf, Etstan, Wlsius, Ethelward, Elstan and Theodred. The citizens preserve a memory of this last man that has not entirely faded, saying that he lived in the time of King Ethelstan. When the king went with him to war against Analav, Theodred, together with Odo of Wiltshire, prayed for and bore witness to the heavenly gift of which we spoke above. He commonly received the surname “the Good” because of his outstanding virtues. He fell into one fault, more an error than a crime: when thieves were caught at Saint Edmund’s, whom the martyr had bound with an invisible bond so that their efforts to escape were useless, he handed them over to the severity of the laws and had them condemned to the gallows. But, reflecting afterwards on what he had done, he regretted it and practised penance for the rest of his life, his conscience gnawed by guilt. His body was placed high beside the window of the crypt, where it can be seen by passers-by. After Theodred, these followed in uninterrupted succession: Wistan, Brihtelm, Dunstan, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, Elistan, Wistan, Elfhun, [Elfuin], Elfuuord and Rotbert, who had been a monk of Jumièges and was first made Bishop of London by King Edward, and soon afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury. The preceding account has already related what his end was. William was appointed his successor by the same king. William, who from Count of Normandy became King of England, then made a certain Hugh, surnamed Deorival, bishop. A few years after his ordination Hugh fell victim to an incurable disease. The royal disease covered his whole body with festering ulcers and drove him to a shameful remedy. Believing those who asserted that his only relief would come if the vessels that received the bodily humours, namely his private parts, were cut away, he did not refuse. Thus the bishop endured the disgrace of being a eunuch and found no cure at all, remaining a leper for as long as he lived. Hugh was succeeded by Mauritius, the king’s chancellor, who, although in certain respects of less than favourable reputation, was nevertheless worthy of praise for his effectiveness. A sure indication of his great-heartedness is the basilica of the blessed Paul which he began in London. Its magnificence of ornament is such that it is rightly numbered among distinguished buildings. So extensive is its crypt and so great the capacity of the upper church that it seems able to accommodate any crowd, however densely packed. Because Mauritius was a man whose ambition knew no bounds, however, he passed the expense of this laborious work on to later generations. Indeed, although his successor Richard assigned all the revenues belonging to the bishopric to the building of the basilica, supporting himself and his household from other sources, he seemed to accomplish almost nothing. He laudably poured the whole income into it with prodigal generosity, yet little visible progress resulted. Consequently, as the years went by, the good impulse he had possessed at the beginning of his episcopate, wearied by despair, gradually faded away. There is a place in the diocese of London among the East Saxons called Cice in the native tongue, where rests the blessed virgin Osgith, famous for miracles. Richard endowed this place with some lands and filled it with canons living under a rule. There were, and still are, clerics there distinguished for learning, and by their example so flourishing a crop of men of this kind has, so to speak, clothed the whole country. He himself intended one day to cast off the wrappings of the world and retire there, especially after being warned by a long wasting illness of paralysis, had not the habit of power drawn his sick soul back with its enticements. The first prior of this place was William of Corbuil, who, after the death of Ralph, Archbishop of Canterbury, was raised to that dignity. Although the monks had been apprehensive about accepting him because he was a cleric, he nevertheless gave them no cause for regret. For he was a man of great religious devotion and some affability, and in other respects neither idle nor imprudent.

Of the Bishops of the East Angles. #

¹ The first bishop of the East Angles was Felix, a Burgundian by birth, who became acquainted with Sigebert while the latter was in exile in Gaul, and came with him to England after the death of Eorpwald. When Sigebert obtained the kingdom of the province, Felix was ordained bishop and did not fail to support the king’s zeal, but with immense devotion and vigilant labour instilled the Christian faith throughout the whole region. He also established schools of learning in suitable places, gradually refining the barbarism of the people through Latin culture. Having completed the course of his life after seventeen years as bishop, he was buried at his see of Dommuc, and was afterwards translated to Seham, a village beside the lake which was once dangerous for ships wishing to travel to Heli, but which can now be crossed on foot since a road has been made through the marshy reed-beds. There still remain traces of a church destroyed and burned by the Danes, whose ruins covered the inhabitants when they too were burned. The saint’s body, however, was sought and found much later and buried in the monastery of Ramsey, of which more will be said later. He was succeeded by his deacon Thomas, a native of the province of the Gyrwas. When Thomas died after five years, his see was filled by Boniface, a Kentishman, who held office for the same number of years as his predecessor Felix. Then Bisi, a venerable man, was made bishop by Archbishop Theodore, and led a blameless life for as long as good health allowed. But when he was afflicted by serious illness, he gave place to two successors. Thus two bishops always governed that province down to the time of Egbirht, King of the West Saxons, one of whom had his see at Dommuc and the other at Helmaham. Badewine and Heca, Nordbert and Asculf, Netholac and Edred, Edelfrid and Cuthuuin, Lanferd and Albirht, Athewlf and Eglaf, Huferd and Erdred, Sigga and Alhun, Alherd and Titfrid: these last two were bishops of the East Angles when Offa, King of the Mercians, established the archbishopric at Lichfield, Alherd being Bishop of Helmaham and Titfrid Bishop of Dommuc. Then came Hunbriht and Weremund, and after him Wilred; for in the time of Ludecan, King of the Mercians, and Egbirht, King of the West Saxons, Hunbriht and Wilred were bishops of the East Angles. But when the same Ludecan and his predecessor Burhred invaded the province, the bishops too were deprived of the abundance of necessities. Both kings, indeed, were killed within the region by an uprising of its inhabitants, yet the two bishoprics nevertheless came to an end and were made into one, which received its see at the not very large village of Helmaham. The bishops there were therefore Athulf, Alfric, two named Thedred, Athelstan and Algar. Of Algar’s holiness the writer of the Life of the blessed Dunstan gave no small indication, which I shall set down here in his own words. “The feast day of Christ’s Ascension was the third day before the day on which the blessed Dunstan was glorified. At dawn on so great a day, a priest named Algar, outstanding for the merit of his learning and conduct, whom we afterwards learned had become distinguished as the noble Bishop of Helmaham, was keeping vigil in the church of the Saviour, offering sacred honours for the Lord’s Ascension, and stretching his mind towards the contemplation of heavenly things. Having passed beyond himself and all the things of this world, he saw Dunstan seated upon an episcopal throne and laying down canonical laws for the clergy. And look, through every door of the church there entered innumerable hosts of angels. When they had drawn up their ranks and stood around the seated bishop, they addressed him with this greeting: “Hail, our Dunstan; if you are ready, come and graciously enjoy our fellowship.” Dunstan replied, “You know, holy spirits, that today Christ ascended [Acts 1:9], and that it is our duty to refresh the people of God both by word and by sacrament; therefore I cannot come today.” They said, “Be ready on Saturday to pass from here with us to Rome, and before the supreme pontiff to sing as a saint for ever.” The angels departed. But the priest, who had been so clear a witness of these things, watched their departure in astonished silence.” And further on: “The priest also who had seen so wonderful an ecstasy in the church, once he understood that what he had experienced was not an image but the truth of the events themselves, openly related to everyone, and with great groaning, what he had seen.” I have borrowed these words from another writer so that readers may see how venerable Algar was, who was worthy not only to see such hidden things with spiritual eyes but also to make them known publicly. Nor indeed would I think it credible that, after attaining a higher rank, he became less vigilant in holiness. Rather, it should be believed both that he was made bishop because of reverence for his virtues, and that on his appointed day he was received into heaven among the ranks of the angels whom he had seen. After him came Alfuuin, two named Elfric, and Stigand, who was expelled; and Grimketel, chosen for gold, held the two dioceses of the East Angles and the South Saxons. In the course of time, however, Stigand so prevailed after accounts had been rendered that he restored the bishopric of the South Saxons to himself and obtained that of the East Angles for his brother Ethelmer. Considering even this too little for his ambition, he ascended the thrones of Winchester and Canterbury, and could only with difficulty and reluctance be persuaded to allow a bishop of their own to be ordained for the South Saxons. After Ethelmer, Herfast was Bishop of Helmaham, as is found in the text of the council held in the sixth year of King William concerning the primacy of the two metropolitans. So that he might not appear to have done nothing, for the Normans are exceedingly eager for fame among future generations, he transferred the bishopric from Helmaham to Thetford. He was, as they say, a man of limited intelligence, though to some extent educated in letters, and before Lanfranc came to Normandy he was thought reasonably proficient in such learning. But when Lanfranc had become a monk at Bec, and scholars everywhere were puffing out their cheeks and belching dialectic, Herfast, who was already chaplain to Count William, afterwards king, arrived at that famous school with a great display of companions and horses. Lanfranc then understood from their first conversation how close Herfast was to knowing nothing, and set him an alphabet to work through, mocking the man’s arrogance with Italian wit. Enraged by this, Herfast prevailed upon the count to have Lanfranc expelled from Bec and from all Normandy. But, through the intervention of God’s grace, William’s mind was pacified and the other man was retained, chiefly through the efforts of William, son of Osbern. A major opportunity for recovering his favour arose when Lanfranc came to court to ask permission to depart, and his horse happened to be limping, which made the count burst out laughing. After Herfast, in the days of the younger William, Herbert, surnamed Losinga, bought the bishopric of Thetford. His skill in flattery had fastened that surname upon him. From being prior of Fécamp and then abbot of Ramsey he became bishop, while his father Robert, who bore the same surname, was thrust into the abbacy of Winchester. Thus that man became a great promoter of simony among the English, having hunted down both an abbey and a bishopric with money, ensnaring the king’s attention with cash and whispering substantial promises to secure the favour of the princes. Nevertheless, in his more sober years he erased the misguided impulse of his youth by repentance. He travelled to Rome, where, laying down the staff and ring he had obtained by simony, he deserved through the indulgence of that most merciful see to receive them again; for the Romans judge it holier and more orderly that the revenues of all churches should serve their own purposes rather than be employed for the uses of any kings. Thus Herbert returned home and transferred the episcopal see to Norwich, a town distinguished for trade and for the numbers of its people. There he established a community of monks highly renowned both for its size and for its religious observance, purchasing everything necessary for them at his own expense. Foreseeing, of course, grounds for complaint from his successors, he granted the monks no lands from the bishopric, lest those successors should deprive God’s servants of provisions if they took offence at anything that belonged by right to their own property. In addition, he established Cluniac monks at Thetford, for members professing obedience to that monastery are dispersed through almost every nation, wealthy in worldly possessions and most splendid in their devotion to God. By the immense and abundant grace of his virtues, therefore, he overshadowed the mass of his former offences, being especially terrified away from evil and raised towards good by a prophecy uttered by his predecessor and by one concerning himself. Herfast’s prophecy was: “Not this man, but Barabbas.” [John 18:40] His own was: “Friend, why have you come?” [Matthew 26:50] When he heard this, he could scarcely restrain either his tears or these words: “I confess that I entered badly, but by the working of God’s grace I shall depart well.” He was therefore to be admired by the lofty Roman see for his abundance of eloquence and learning, and no less for his skill in secular affairs. Herbert became, as Lucan said of Curio, the pivot and turning-point of events. Just as in the reign of King William he had been an advocate of simony, so under King Henry he became its unconquered opponent. He would not allow others to do what he regretted having once presumed to do himself in the fervour of youth, always carrying before him, as they say, Jerome’s saying: “We erred when young; let us amend ourselves when old.” Finally, who could adequately weave together the praise due for this deed of his: that a bishop who was not especially wealthy built so noble a monastery, in which one could desire nothing in vain, whether in the grandeur of its buildings, the beauty of its ornaments, the religious devotion of its monks, or their constant charity towards all? These things caressed him while alive with happy hope and, after his death, if faith in repentance is not vain, bore him above the heavens. The monastery of Saint Edmund is known to belong to the diocese of the Bishop of Norwich; and although I have spoken of it elsewhere, there is good reason for me now to mention it briefly. In this way my intended arrangement will proceed in order, for I planned, after commemorating the bishops, not to pass over the saints resting in their dioceses. And, I readily confess, it is fitting that Saint Edmund should occur first, so that, as king and prince of the country, he might claim first among the saints of his own land the palm of praise. He reigned in East Anglia, a man devoted to God and distinguished by the ancient lineage of kings. After he had ruled the province peacefully for some years, with no softness of the times compelling him to weaken his virtue, the Danish leaders Hinguar and Hubba came to ravage the provinces of the Northumbrians and the East Angles. The first of these captured the king, who offered no resistance but had thrown down his weapons and lay prostrate on the ground in prayer, and after subjecting him to various tortures beheaded him. At that time too the episcopal see at Seham, as I said above, and the monastery of Heli were burned and levelled to the ground, after the nuns had been driven out. But after the blessed man’s death the purity of his past life shone forth through worthy miracles. The executioner’s savagery had severed his head from his body, and the Danes had thrown it into thickets and hidden it there. When the citizens searched for it, following in the tracks of the departing enemy so that they might render proper funeral rites to their king, they received joyful gifts from God: they all clearly heard the lifeless head calling out to the searchers. They found a wolf, a wild beast accustomed to flesh, holding it between its forelegs and offering harmless protection over it. Then, like a domesticated animal, the same wolf followed modestly behind those carrying the head to the tomb, injuring no one and being injured by no one. For the time being the venerable body was committed to the earth, with turf hastily laid over it, soil heaped above, and a small wooden chapel of little value built on top. But in the course of time brambles covered even this little building, and the people of the province cast the martyr’s memory from their minds. He came to their aid while they were slumbering, awakening their half-sleeping minds to reverence for him through signs. It may indeed seem a slight and unimpressive thing, yet it was the first proof his miraculous power: a blind man, who tested his way with a staff, entered the chapel by mistake at night, and a light from heaven suddenly met him and filled his eyes. Soon afterwards he entangled with invisible bonds some petty thieves who attempted to plunder the same building by night. It was a most striking spectacle, for the booty held the robbers fast, so that they could neither abandon what they had begun nor complete what they had undertaken. For this reason the Bishop of London removed the long-standing discredit of that humble structure and raised a more splendid building over the venerable remains, which proclaimed the glory of the holy soul both by their marvellous incorruption and by a kind of milky whiteness. The head had been joined again to the rest of the body, though it still displayed the sign of martyrdom in a scar of crimson colour. What follows, however, exceeds ordinary human wonders: the hair and nails of the dead man continued to grow, and Oswen, a certain holy woman, cut the hair and trimmed the nails each year, preserving them with great reverence for future generations. A woman of holy boldness indeed, to handle limbs before which the whole lower world is inferior. But Lefstan, a young man of unrestrained audacity, did not fare so well. With arrogant threats he demanded that the martyr’s body be shown to him, intending, as he said, to weigh uncertain report by the evidence of his own eyes. He therefore paid the penalty for his reckless daring: he went mad, and shortly afterwards, swarming with worms, died. Edmund certainly knows how to do now what he was once accustomed to do:

² “To spare the subjected and crush the proud.”

³ By these two qualities he so bound all the inhabitants of Britain to himself that each man considers himself especially blessed if he adorns the saint’s resting place with either money or gifts of value. Kings themselves, though masters of others, glory in being his servants, and send him the royal crown, paying a great price to redeem it if they wish to use it. Tax collectors, who elsewhere rage about, measuring right and wrong alike by their own standard, come there as suppliants and halt their disputes on this side of Saint Edmund’s ditch, having learned from the punishment of many who thought fit to persist. King Cnut ordered the ditch to be made, having been taught to do good by the miserable end of his father Suan. For when Suan, while devastating all England in the time of King Edelred, breathed out threats no less fiercely against Saint Edmund’s land, the martyr is said to have gently warned him in a dream; but when he replied more harshly with barbarous insolence, the saint struck him with a spear and killed him. There was only this interval: shaken from sleep, Suan revealed to those standing by both the author and manner of his death. For the guards of his body had, astonishingly, heard the exchange between the two disputants and the sound of the blow. Cnut knew these things, and therefore left nothing undone to win the saint’s favour. Besides the ditch I have already mentioned, which protected the saint’s lands from every disturbance, he built with royal ambition over the venerable body a basilica as magnificent as the practice of that age demanded, established an abbot and monks there, and bestowed many great estates upon them. The abundance of his gifts remains intact to this day, for that place has several monasteries in England subject to it. In the succession of abbots there was an abbot named Lefstan in the time of King Edward. Seeking to satisfy certain people who wrongly doubted the saint’s incorruption, he provided for the faith of others at his own peril. The body was brought out in public and displayed for inspection, with Lefstan himself pulling at the head and one of his monks at the feet. He therefore openly prayed, saying: “Lord Saint Edmund, you know that I have done this not from an unbelieving mind but for the salvation of others, lest the divine miracle in you should remain hidden from the world. Yet because I am guilty of many sins, and the instrument of the Holy Spirit ought not to have been handled by me, if what I have done displeases you, punish me temporally; for even in my sinful state it is better that I should be marked by some bodily affliction than be engulfed in eternal punishment.” He had scarcely finished his prayer when, look, the fingers of both hands, either miserably twisted backwards or stubbornly fixed into his palms, imposed upon the man the punishment he had requested. Afterwards, when he was afflicted by other infirmities as well, he approached King Edward through messengers and asked him to send a physician. The king arranged for Baldwin, a monk of Saint Denis skilled in that are, to be sent to him. Although Baldwin treated his other ailments successfully, he made no progress in curing his fingers, and the man, who normally enjoyed great success in healing, began to marvel at this. But when those who knew the matter explained to him the cause of the illness, he remained there, embracing the love of the martyr with all his heart. Thus, after many years in which he gained full acquaintance with the leading men of the realm, he became abbot not so much as Lefstan’s successor as his colleague, with Lefstan supporting him and the king consenting. Under him and through his efforts, Pope Alexander granted the monastery its freedom, so that the place should be subject in nothing to any bishop, but should look only to the archbishop’s direction in lawful matters. Everything, both within and without, was renewed. The splendour of the buildings and the abundance of the offerings were of a kind and magnitude found nowhere else in England. Two saints lie in the church, Germinus and Botulfus, whose deeds I do not remember being preserved either there or elsewhere, except that the first is said to have been the brother of Saint Etheldreda and the second a bishop.

Of the Bishops of Winchester. #

¹ Now, since we have run through the names of the bishops of Canterbury and Rochester, and of the East Saxons and East Angles, let us recount the sees and deeds of the others, so far as they are known either by report or in writing. First, in accordance with the plan of our work, come the West Saxons. At first they had one bishop at Dorchester; afterwards they had two, one at Winchester and the other at Sherborne. In the time of King Edward three were added to these two: Wells, Crediton and Cornwall. Not long afterwards there was a sixth at Ramsbury. Since my account intends to treat all these in due order, we must first speak of Winchester because of the dignity of the city. In the time, therefore, when Kinegils and Quicelm reigned among the West Saxons, Birinus, whose place of origin is uncertain, undertook the task of preaching in Britain at the urging of Pope Honorius. Having been ordained bishop by Asterius, Bishop of Genoa, he made his way towards the sea in order to cross over to Britain. As he was arranging his few belongings into his baggage, while the sailors urged haste because the wind was favourable, he forgot what are called the corporals. But when they had already put out to sea and the cheerful ship was cutting through the calm waters, he remembered his loss and hesitated in his mind. If he asked the sailors to turn back, there was no doubt that they would laugh at him for delaying such a favourable voyage; if he remained silent, he would suffer the loss of something necessary for his apostolic ministry. And so, summoning up with all his courage the weapons of faith, he stepped down on foot into the sea and hurried back to the shore they had left. There, having found and recovered the corporals, with a second act of blessed daring he returned to his companions, scattering by faith the heaps of waves and the thousand deaths that confronted him. The sailors too, softened by so great a miracle, had cast anchor and halted the ship’s course. He was therefore received with everyone competing to serve him, and not long afterwards reached the mainland in the country of the West Saxons. This was the fortieth year after the coming of Augustine and the twenty-fourth year of the reign of the kings named above. Birinus had promised Pope Honorius that he would penetrate to the furthest provinces of the English and sow the seeds of faith where even the name of the Gospel had not been heard. Yet as soon as he landed he found everyone there most stubbornly devoted to sacrilegious rites. It therefore seemed foolish to proceed any further and, when he could find no healthy people there, to seek elsewhere for sick people whom he might heal. He remained, therefore, and by divine favour as well as by his own efforts he first bestowed the saving washing upon King Kinegils himself, and afterwards upon the whole province. It happened, in a truly praiseworthy spectacle, that the day appointed for the king’s baptism fell on the very day when he had decided to give his daughter in marriage to Osuuald, the most holy King of the Northumbrians. Thus, by a generous exchange, it came about that the man who was to become Kinegils’s son-in-law according to the flesh first became his spiritual father in baptism. The two kings therefore gave Dorchester to their preacher as his episcopal see, at that time a city though now a village. In those days the kings of the West Saxons held it, but afterwards it belonged to the bishops of the Mercians. Indeed, the episcopal see of the Mercians remained there down to our own time, though it is now at the city of Lincoln. Thus Birinus, having earned his reward through holy labours and departed this life, was buried at Dorchester in the church which he had built. In later years, when the bishopric of the West Saxons had been established at Winchester, he was translated there by Bishop Hedda and is regarded, after God, as the patron of the city. After him Angilbert, a Gaul by birth, held the episcopate of the province. You may read more fully in Bede about his coming and departure; here you will learn it briefly. When a man named Wine, an Englishman but ordained among the Gauls, was introduced into the bishopric of Winchester alongside him, Angilbert departed in anger. Nor did the intruder long enjoy his ease, for he was driven out by the tyranny of the same king and fled for refuge to Wifer, King of the Mercians. Having bought the bishopric of London from him, he spent the remaining days of his life there, leaving a dreadful example to later generations, so that one can scarcely decide which committed the greater sin and disgrace: the man who offered a sacred office for sale, or the man who bought it. Angilbert was then asked by the king’s messengers to return, but excused himself from coming because he was bound by the obligations of the bishopric of Paris. Yet, so as not to disappoint the petitioner’s hope, he sent his nephew Leutherius, who was received with the ready assent of the people of the province and consecrated by Archbishop Theodore, and governed the church of the West Saxons for seven years. I have not passed over this in silence because Bede left no explicit statement about the years of his episcopate, and it seemed contrary to my duty to suppress in silence what I had learned from the chronicles. His successor for more than thirty years was Hedda, who had previously been both a monk and an abbot. Bede says that he discharged his office more through an innate love of virtue than through any learning in letters. This causes me no small difficulty, since I have read his formal letters, which were composed by no means without learning, as well as writings addressed to him by Aldhelm, which breathe an extraordinary force of eloquence and knowledge. The reverence due to his holiness was made known to mankind by the number of miracles sent from heaven; but for the present he suppresses these, content with the glory he acquired long ago soon after his death. When he died, because his diocese could not properly be governed by one man on account of the great extent of its territory, it was divided into two, one part being given to Daniel and the other to Aldhelm. There will be time, God accompanying us, to speak of Aldhelm and his successors when the account is worked out to the extent required for the benefit of its hearers. Now, as I promised, I shall turn to the bishops of Winchester. Daniel survived Aldhelm’s death by a long time, holding the bishopric for forty-three years. Afterwards, wishing to bring his vigorous old age to completion in holy leisure, he relinquished his office while still alive; for the rest of his life he lived as a monk at Malmesbury, sincerely, according to the report that has come down to us through successive generations, and he is said to have been buried there, although the people of Winchester claim that they possess him, without being able to point out his tomb either with certainty or even plausibility. Hunferd succeeded him, and is mentioned at the council of Archbishop Cuthbert. Then came Cinehard; after him Athelard, who from being abbot of Malmesbury soon became archbishop; after Athelard, Egbald, Dudd, Cinebert, Alhmund, Wighten, Herefrith, Edmund and Helmstan. Helmstan lived in the time of Egbirht, King of the West Saxons. When he went the way of his fathers, Swithun succeeded him, having long before been ordained priest of the same church by Helmstan. In Swithun religious devotion in life was matched by straightforward wisdom, and his praiseworthy natural ability and diligence did not escape the king’s notice. The king therefore held him in such esteem that he conducted much of his business by Swithun’s advice and entrusted his son Adulf to his instruction. By this means fortune gave an early indication of the young man’s future happiness, for under so holy a tutor he learned how one day to undertake the government of the state without being untrained. For there is an ancient and celebrated saying of Plato: “The state will then be happy if either philosophers become kings or kings become philosophers.” The truth of this saying was realised in Adulf, when, after his father’s death, since there was no other lawful heir, he was raised from the rank of subdeacon at Winchester to the kingship with the consent of Pope Leo IV. Then it became plainly evident what spiritual philosophy had taught him, for, looking more to the advantage of God’s servants than to his own, he gave a tenth of his whole kingdom to God. He did nothing unless it was right, and commanded nothing unless it was pious. But we have dealt with these matters elsewhere; now we are unfolding the deeds of Swithun. Adulf, regarding him as his foster-father and teacher, for so he called him, did not rest until he had honoured him with the bishopric of Winchester, with the consent of the clergy and his ordination by Celnoth, Archbishop of Canterbury. Thus the foundations of good things laid in the kingdom by the king grew with joyful increase through the bishop, as Swithun pressed forward the good which Adulf, chiefly through his admonitions, had begun. He was indeed a storehouse of every virtue, but he especially delighted in two: mercy and humility. My pen will now relate examples of both. He happened to be sitting beside the workmen who were building a bridge on the eastern side of the city, so that his presence might spur the sluggish out of their carelessness. And look, a woman was crossing the bridge into the city carrying eggs to sell. The workmen rushed out from all sides, as men of that sort are accustomed to do, and with a wanton shove broke every one of her eggs. Men of sounder judgement did not regard this as a trivial matter, and it was immediately reported to the lord bishop. He had the poor woman brought before him, filthy with age and ragged clothing, listened to her complaint and grieved over her loss. The compassion of his heart stirred him without delay to a miracle, and immediately, making the sign of the cross over them, he restored all the broken eggs to wholeness. Is this a small proof his holiness and mercy? And what of his humility? Whenever he had to consecrate a new church to God, however far away it might be, he hastened there tirelessly, not on horseback or in a carriage, but on foot. And so that the ignorant might not make him an object of ridicule, nor the proud accuse him of ostentation, he kept out of men’s sight and completed the whole journey by night. A lover of solitary holiness, he did not parade his good deeds with any display. For this reason, I think, enjoying heaven alone as witness, he deprived later generations of knowledge of all his miracles. When at last he was about to bid farewell to this present life, he commanded those standing by, with episcopal authority, to bury his body outside the church, where it would be exposed both to the feet of passers-by and to the drops falling from above. He departed in the year of our Lord’s Incarnation 863, in the fifth year after the death of Adulf. Much time passed, and God’s pearl lay hidden without glory for almost a hundred years. During the course of those years eight bishops completed their lives, whose names were Alfrith, Dunbert, Deneuulf, Frithestan, Birstan, Elfeg, Elfsius and Brihtelm. Our diligence will not omit those among them who became renowned for a more distinguished life. Deneuulf, if report is to be believed, remained until an advanced age not only without learning, but even a swineherd. King Alfred, driven from his kingdom by the violence of his enemies and taking refuge in a forest, happened upon him tending pigs. To avoid spinning this out at length, when the king discovered that his natural ability showed promise, he had him instructed in letters. Nor did he abandon the task until he had made him, once more fully educated, a bishop, devising a course of action worthy of wonder. Frithestan was one of the seven bishops whom Archbishop Pleimund consecrated at Canterbury on a single day in the time of King Edward, son of Alfred. The abundance of books still surviving from him reveals many of his good qualities, while the holiness of his life is not hidden in obscurity as that of others is through an unknown burial place. Birstan governed the bishopric for only four years. We have learned that he was a man of the purest holiness; every day, with unfailing devotion, he used to sing Mass for the repose of the dead, and at night, having cast aside fear, he was accustomed to walk alone through cemeteries, repeatedly reciting psalms for the salvation of souls. Once, when he was doing this and, having completed everything, added, “May they rest in peace,” he heard voices like those of an innumerable army answering from the graves, “Amen.” This is all the more wonderful because it is so unusual: the dead spoke with the living man, lest he should grow weary of a duty which he heard was pleasing to so many souls. He was also a most ardent follower of the Lord’s example, washing the feet of the poor every day in private [John 13:4–15], setting a table and food before them, and no less carefully wiping away the remains afterwards as part of his service to them. When this service was completed and the poor had been dismissed, he would remain there for many hours, occupied, as is believed, in prayer. One day, therefore, when he had entered as usual, having previously suffered no troublesome illness, he suddenly, without anyone knowing, lost the breath of life. His attendants, who knew his custom, believed that he was once again occupied in prayer and allowed him to lie there throughout the day; but at dawn the next day, when they entered, they found his lifeless body. He was therefore mourned and given burial. But because the citizens saw that death had overtaken him so suddenly, they blotted out all memory of him in silence, not knowing what is written: “He who has lived well cannot die badly”; and, “The righteous man, though overtaken by death, shall be at rest” [Wisdom 4:7]. Divine justice corrected this long afterwards, when Athelwold succeeded. He was accustomed at the beginning of the night to keep vigil before the relics of the saints, and three persons appeared standing before him, not in an ecstasy but plainly in a dream. The one in the middle was heard to speak these words: “I am Birstan, once bishop of this city; this man,” pointing to the one on his right, “is Birinus, its first preacher; and this man,” pointing to the one on his left, “is Swithun, the special patron of this church and city. Know that just as you now see me here in their company, so in heaven I enjoy glory equal to theirs. Why, then, am I deprived of honour from mortals when I am glorified in the fellowship of heavenly spirits?” He finished speaking and, vanishing into the air with his companions, restored his precious memory to the people of the province, and from then on lacked no form of veneration. Elfeg, in addition to the accumulation of all his other virtues, in which he excelled abundantly enough to deserve praise, was also renowned for prophecy. Two examples will serve to illustrate this. It was Ash Wednesday, and the bishop, according to custom, was excluding penitents from the doors of the church; he urged the others, while devoting themselves to fasting and chastity, to abstain even from marital pleasures during those days. It was a worthy fruit of repentance [Matthew 3:8; Luke 3:8], he said, that someone who had committed many unlawful acts should abstain even from lawful ones. While the others listened reverently to his teaching, one man made a joking remark that provoked laughter from the others. He said that he could not restrain himself from both feasting and intercourse, so as to abstain equally from food and sex. Indeed, he declared that he would shortly summon back to his bed for the night’s enjoyment the wife whom he had kept away from it for some time, exaggerating his folly with a wanton and vulgar expression. Then those standing nearby heard and understood the bishop’s voice murmuring, “You grieve me, wretched man, not knowing what the coming day will bring.” The scoundrel’s death soon fulfilled the grim prophecy. For the next morning he was found dead in his chamber, though it was uncertain whether the Devil had crushed his throat. At another time Elfeg likewise ordained three monks to the priesthood: Dunstan, Athelwold, and a certain Ethelstan, who afterwards abandoned the monastic habit, despised celibacy, and spent his life in the embraces of prostitutes. When the solemn rites had been completed, the bishop of holy memory addressed those close to him: “Today before God I have laid hands upon three men. Two of them will obtain the grace of episcopal office: one in the city of Worcester and afterwards in Kent; the other will one day fill my own see by lawful succession. The third, plunging himself into the mire of pleasures, will meet a miserable end.” This Ethelstan, who was present because of the closeness of their kinship, challenged the priest with an insolent question: “Am I to be one of the two who will be raised to episcopal dignity?” “No,” he replied, “you will have neither part nor share in the order of which I have spoken [Acts 8:21], nor will you remain in the habit with which you now make a show before men’s eyes.” What dignity there was in that most holy mind, that he could disclose the secrets of heaven so plainly and without disguise! Nor did these words fall to the ground [1 Samuel 3:19], but the course of events confirmed them all as true, for Dunstan and Athelwold, treading the narrow way that leads to life [Matthew 7:14], became illustrious in the bishoprics foretold, while the third ran along the broad paths of the world [Matthew 7:13]. The previous book has already related Elfsi’s headlong frenzy in purchasing the archbishopric and his miserable death. I therefore think it fitting now to say something, however briefly, about Father Athelwold, who succeeded Brihtelm, the successor of Elfsi, at Winchester. Both his parents, neither poor in fortune nor lowly in lineage, were citizens of Winchester. As a boy he devoted himself to learning, and as a young man he frequented the royal court, where he was very dear to Ethelstan. On the king’s advice he was tonsured as a cleric by the same Elfeg, and not long afterwards was clothed as a monk by Dunstan, Abbot of Glastonbury. Appointed dean of the monastery, he won over some by his teaching, others by his religious devotion, and everyone by his affection. At that time the abbot had a dream about him which is certainly worth remembering. He saw a tree growing within the precincts of the same monastery, which spread its branches towards the four quarters of the world and overshadowed all England. Every branch was covered with monks’ cowls, while an enormous cowl placed at the top seemed to shelter all the smaller ones beneath the protection of its sleeves. Astonished at so extraordinary a vision, he asked its meaning from an old man of venerable white hair who stood nearby. “The tree,” the old man said, “is this island; the great cowl is the life of your monk Athelwold; the others are the countless people whom he will draw to God by word and example.” In harmony with this prediction was a vision seen by his mother when her womb was already swelling with him and she was approaching childbirth. She saw a golden eagle fly from her mouth, which for a long time circled over the city with beating wings and at last, rising beyond the height of the clouds, entered heaven. Fortune was already beginning to bring the true outcome of these visions before the people when Athelwold, longing for a stricter form of life and thirsting for exile in Gaul, was held back by King Edred. This was brought about by Edgifa, the king’s mother, who urged her son to restrain him and was renowned throughout the British world for every kind of religious virtue. A very small monastery called Abingdon was therefore given to him, so that the powers of his judgement might be tested there. Nor did he fail through lack of energy to fulfil the hopes of those who had entrusted it to him, but raised it to the praiseworthy eminence in which it may be seen today. Only a few years later, when Dunstan had already become archbishop, Athelwold himself was chosen by King Edgar for the bishopric of Winchester and consecrated by that same archbishop. Then with great efforts he began to rise to the service of the churches, rooting out vices and planting the shoots of virtues. You would not know what to praise more highly in him: his pursuit of holiness or his devotion to learning, his persistence in preaching or his diligence in building. The clerics of the episcopal church, together with those of another church nearby which they called the New Monastery, were given the choice either to change their way of life or leave the place. Choosing the easier course, they were expelled and monks were brought in. Many estates belonging to the bishopric were assigned to them, nearer in location and richer in revenue. In the same city a monastery for nuns was founded and established. Of the other houses which he instituted in various regions, we shall speak when we come to their bishops. It may indeed seem astonishing that he accomplished so much, except that King Edgar was wholly devoted to his wishes, since after Dunstan there was no one whom the king loved more. The revelation at that same time of the most blessed Swithun was of the greatest and most praiseworthy assistance to his works. Swithun, retaining the humility of his former life, appeared in a vision not to some proud and important person but to a poor little man who supported himself by the work of his hands, and seemed to say these things: “Go to Winchester, to the Old Monastery, and when you have sought out the keeper of the place, order him to tell Bishop Athelwold that he must open the tomb of Swithun, formerly bishop, and bring forth the relics. There he will find pearls more precious than any treasure. Merciful God has looked upon his times, so that through me they may be illuminated by heavenly wonders. And so that you may not hesitate, take this as a sign: the iron rings violently fastened with lead to the stone of the tomb you will be able to pull out with little effort whenever you wish, and replace whenever you wish; if others attempt the same, it will be in vain.” The man went, and after proving the truth of the promise in the presence of the keeper, he was admitted before the bishop. There he related the matter fearlessly and was believed. On the appointed day, therefore, the bones were raised from the tomb and placed in a shrine. A vast multitude of people came rushing together to offer vows and heap vow upon vow. No one complained of being disappointed: everything was accomplished, everything was granted. Indeed, such an abundance of miracles was displayed there in every kind of illness that no human memory can recall anything comparable having occurred elsewhere. That saint therefore bears the surname “the Pious”, and is swift to help everyone who invokes him, provided faith is not lacking. His goodness, begun long ago, has not grown old even in our own time. I myself saw, extraordinary though it is to tell, a man whose eyes had been gouged out by the violence of robbers recover clear sight through the merits of Swithun, after receiving either those same eyes or others, for his own had been thrown some distance away. The evidence of his former calamity remained in the scars of the punctures that disfigured his eyelids. Meanwhile the saint wills that God should be glorified in all things, and does not permit anyone healed through him to roll again in the slippery pleasures of the flesh if he does not wish to be entangled once more in his former sickness. Indeed, long ago, when the monks had grown weary from the frequency of miracles and, in the middle of the night, whenever some wonder occurred, complained because they were deprived of sleep, their sluggishness did not escape the saint’s eye, though he watched from afar. Immediately he appeared to Athelwold, who was asleep at the king’s court, threatening that healings would cease if the monks continued to think that they might cease from praising God. For why should they sleep during the praise of God when he himself kept watch for their salvation? But Athelwold himself was no stranger to miracles either, and the holiness of the living and the dead saints seemed to vie with one another, as miracles multiplied on either side: by the one man’s wonders faith was strengthened, by the other’s health was restored. When deadly poison, administered through the treachery of servants, had been drunk and was already creeping through his limbs and consuming his vital organs, he drove it away by faith. He restored a vessel for holding oily liquid when it had been lost, and when it was found he multiplied its contents. With a word he bound the arms of a thieving monk in invisible bonds, and by his blessing alone released those bonds when the monk confessed. Another man standing on a precipice was thrown down by a fall, but Athelwold’s prayer placed a hand beneath him as he fell and restored him to his duty. Famine caused by the barrenness of the soil had overtaken the province; Athelwold ordered the sacred vessels to be broken up and distributed, declaring that it was better for precious metals to serve the need of the wretched than the ostentation of priests. And so, when the new church which he had long desired had been built, he was taken from the world, to the great sorrow of the monks but to none of his own. For he rejoices exalted in glory, while of the monasteries he had founded, many were destroyed after his death and all were diminished.

² Athelwold was succeeded by Elfeg, a good man succeeding a good man, of whom I have said something above and about whom I now wish to speak more fully. As a boy he attended schools and embraced learning; as a young man he changed his way of life at Deerhurst, then a small monastery, but now an empty semblance of antiquity. There, after adopting the rule of monastic life, he aspired to something higher and made his way to Bath, where, shutting himself within the walls of a more secluded cell, he tasted heavenly things in his mind. Through him many good monks were gathered at the place, but, as happens in a large body, they too contracted the corruption of disease. For some of them, without the father’s knowledge, began to prolong their feasts into the night and then continue drinking until daylight. God did not endure this for long, but struck down the ringleader of the faction with death in the dead of night, in the building that had witnessed their gatherings. Meanwhile the saint, interrupting his prayers, heard a sound coming from that same house, as though some were inflicting violence and another was enduring it. Astonished at the strangeness of the matter, he approached the door cautiously and with bated breath. Then, through the cracks in the windows, he saw two enormous demons tormenting the lifeless corpse with repeated blows of hammers, while the dead man sought help from them with miserable cries. The enemies replied: “You did not obey God, nor shall we obey you.” When Elfeg related this to the others in the morning, it was no wonder that the companions of his feasting became abstinent. When the Bishop of Winchester died, Archbishop Dunstan, encouraged by an oracle in which the Apostle Andrew named Elfeg specifically as his choice, appointed him to the throne. He was prudent in worldly matters and simple towards God, providing for outward affairs without neglecting inward ones. In the twelfth year after his predecessor’s burial he raised his bones, having been persuaded to undertake the act by certain signs, and those no slight ones. And so that he might worthily adorn the see of so great a father by following in the footsteps of his holiness, whenever he sat at table he neither filled the hollow of his stomach to excess nor incurred the ostentation of an abstainer. He never allowed himself meat except when ill, and always merely touched the cup lightly with his lips. The slenderness of his body, which scarcely clung to his bones, revealed the strictness of his abstinence. At night, deceiving his guards, he would go out alone to the river, where, immersed up to the waist and keeping vigil in the praises of God, he would return unnoticed to his chamber when dawn was already whitening. After completing twenty-two years in the bishopric, he was transferred unwillingly, as they say, to Kent, because, deprived of the office to which he was accustomed, he was burdened with a greater one. For Kenulf, Abbot of Burgh, had purchased the bishopric of Winchester with money; but he did not long rejoice in his sacrilegious venture, for before two years had passed he departed this life. Elfeg, meanwhile, journeyed to Rome to receive the pallium from the apostolic see and crossed the Alps. There, while lodging in a certain village, a rustic crowd attacked him and stripped him of everything he had. Immediately a fire, of uncertain origin, seized the houses and, assisted by the breath of the wind, threatened destruction to the whole village. Then those brutish-minded people, though only with difficulty recognising their offence, hurried after him with rapid steps when he had already left and gone some distance. They fell at his feet, begged forgiveness and restored what they had taken. Elfeg, easily moved to mercy, set the sign of the cross against the fire from the opposite direction. Immediately the flame turned back upon itself and died away, and the whole conflagration cooled to ashes. While he was at Rome, although no one had brought him news of his successor’s death, he saw and announced it, as has been said elsewhere. Returning from there to his see, he governed the archbishopric happily for seven years. When these had passed, he was thrown into chains by the Danes and remained a prisoner for seven months. Seek elsewhere for the causes of his captivity. Meanwhile a deadly pestilence spread among the Danes and struck down the enemy in crowds, so swiftly that death overtook them before they could even feel pain. The stench of the unburied corpses therefore infected the air, and the corrupted atmosphere brought plague upon the others who had seemed healthy. They fell without measure and without number, until Elfeg, yielding to their pleas, drove away the plague and restored health by distributing bread which he had blessed. Yet, no less ungrateful for his benefits, they stoned their healer to death. Some, however, who had sounder judgement, wished to bury the bishop’s remains, but for a time the killers opposed them. When the matter was submitted to judgement, it was agreed that if a dry piece of wood which chance had provided, after being smeared with his blood, should grow green again by the next day, the Christians might bury the body as they pleased. And so it happened: the wood, which at that time did not even have bark, was found green again in the morning, budding with flowers and swelling with fruit. Consequently the body was then peacefully permitted to be buried at Saint Paul’s in London, and from there, in the tenth year, by order of King Cnut and in his presence, it was raised, free from any corruption, and now glorifies the seat of the archbishopric. Even now, and very recently indeed, the freshness of the blood and the integrity of the body have been seen. Nor did any of his killers escape without paying the penalty; I could truthfully enumerate their punishments, were I not weary of recounting the calamities of miserable men. The misery of the persecutor is sufficiently impressed upon us when the glory of the martyr shines forth.

³ After Elfeg, Ethelwold occupied the see of Winchester; he was succeeded by Elsi, Elsi by Eluuin, and Eluuin by Stigand. When Stigand was deposed, as has often been said, he was succeeded by Walkelin, appointed by King William. His good works, surpassing mere reputation, will keep old age and decay at bay for as long as the episcopal see endures there. Maurilius, Archbishop of Rouen, as he prepared for the way of death, had commended him as a pledge of faith, because he saw in him the promise of a praiseworthy character, if only he were given the means by which his virtue could shine forth. Walkelin fulfilled the archbishop’s assurance, accomplishing more than could have been hoped for in the religious life and number of the monks and in the construction of buildings. At first, indeed, as a newly arrived foreigner, he had hated the monks; but he was easily corrected and often lamented that baseless hatred. Thereafter he cherished them as sons, loved them as brothers and honoured them as masters, withholding nothing from them in either assistance or familiarity because their habit differed from his own. He assailed no one with abuse, declaring that episcopal dignity stained its own glory with an unworthy blemish if it descended to insulting those who were poorer. There was one very great fault that he committed: he took from the monks three hundred pounds’ worth of land attached it to the use of himself and his successors. He himself appointed as prior of the place a certain Godefrid, born at Cambrai, who was distinguished for both religious devotion and learning. His learning is attested by his letters, written in that familiar and pleasing style of his, and especially by the epigrams which he composed in satirical fashion, as well as by his verses in praise of the primates of England. How splendidly he made the whole divine office shine, when it had grown obsolete through a certain antiquity, adorning it with its native dignity! He beautifully impressed upon the monks the pattern of religious observance and hospitality which he had begun, and to this day they follow Godefrid’s model in both so closely that either nothing or very little is lacking to complete their praise. Indeed, in that house there is hospitality for those arriving by land or sea, lodging for as many as wish, with unfailing provision and tireless charity. Amid all this the holy man possessed such humility of character that nothing emerged from that unique treasury of wisdom except what was humble, and nothing proceeded from him except what was gentle. Yet how slight can this praise of him seem! How few are there who, once they have acquired even the smallest amount of learning, do not think others beneath their dignity, displaying their consciousness of learning through haughty gestures and pompous bearing! Nevertheless, so that nothing should be lacking to the perfection of his holy soul, for many years he remained confined to his sickbed, his sins being purged in the furnace of prolonged wasting illness.

⁴ In the same city there is a monastery which King Alfred once built and in which he placed canons, at the suggestion of a certain Grimbald, a Fleming, who was buried there with great honour and is proclaimed and believed to be a saint. But Athelwold of blessed memory expelled the canons and installed monks, appointing over them an abbot named Edelgar, of whom I have spoken above. To provide space for the buildings of this monastery, he purchased sufficient land from the bishop and the canons of the time, paying for every foot a manca of gold by public weight. The two churches were so close together, with their walls adjoining, that the voices of those singing in one interfered with those in the other. Hence, both for this reason and for others, unhappy jealousy dug up many causes from which they might inflict considerable grievances upon one another. For this reason the monastery has recently been moved outside the city, where it is more healthily inhabited and more freely adorned. Athelwold also built in the same city a convent of nuns, over whom he placed an elderly virgin named Etheldrida, who, in accordance with the meaning of the dream which his mother had seen concerning the golden eagle, prophesied many things about him. There had previously been a small monastery there, in which Edburga, daughter of King Edward the Elder, had lived the religious life and died, but by then it had been almost destroyed. When Edburga was scarcely three years old, she gave a remarkable indication of her future holiness. Her father wished to discover whether the little girl would incline towards God or towards the world. He therefore placed in the hall ornaments belonging to different ways of life: on one side a chalice and the Gospels, on the other bracelets and necklaces. The little girl was carried there by her nurse and sat at her father’s knees. When told that she might choose whichever she wished, she scorned the worldly objects with a stern look and, eagerly crawling forward on her hands, worshipfully embraced the Gospels and the chalice with childish innocence. The company sitting around cried out, rejoicing in the signs of future holiness they saw in the girl. Her father himself honoured his child with still warmer kisses and said: “Go where God calls you; follow with happy steps the bridegroom whom you have chosen.” Thus, having taken the habit of a nun, she won the love of all her companions through the diligence of her service. Nor did the nobility of her lineage make her proud, for she considered it noble to humble herself in the service of Christ. Her holiness increased with her age, and her humility grew as she matured, to such a degree that at night she would secretly take away the shoes of each of the sisters and, after carefully washing and anointing them, put them back beside their beds. Many miracles, both during her life and after her death, commend the devotion of her heart and the integrity of her body, and the guardians of the churches recount them better by word of mouth. Within the diocese of the same bishopric there are three monasteries: Chertsey, Romsey and Wherwell. Chertsey has already been discussed. Of Wherwell it is known that Elfrith, the king’s wife, built it in honour of the Holy Cross, moved to remorse by the shameful killing of her stepson Edward, of which she herself had knowledge and was the instigator. At Romsey, a monastery founded by the most excellent King Edgar, I know that the bodies of two virgins, Merewinne and Elfleda, lie buried. Since I do not know their deeds, I do not so much pass them over as reserve them for more careful treatment in writing, should I happen to learn of them.

Of the Bishops of Sherborne. #

¹ In the division of the West Saxon bishopric it was plainly arranged that the bishop who sat at Winchester should have two districts, Hampshire and Surrey, while the other, who sat at Sherborne, should have Wiltshire, Dorset, Berkshire, Somerset, Devon and Cornwall. Sherborne is a small town, agreeable neither for the number of its inhabitants nor for the pleasantness of its situation, and it is astonishing, and almost shameful, that an episcopal see should have endured there for so many centuries. It has now been changed from a bishopric into an abbey, by an exchange not unusual in our age, when everything has been corrupted by faction and caprice, and virtue is held up to ridicule and disgrace. The first to sit there was Father Aldhelm, whom I name here only for the sake of the order. For since I have nowhere found his life fully set out, and very many things belong to it which I should be at fault to conceal from posterity, I have resolved, God permitting, to treat such material at greater leisure in the final book of this little work. After him, therefore, the following sat at Sherborne: Forthere, Hereuuald, Ethelmod, Denefrith, Wibert and Alhstan. In the time of Egbirht, King of the West Saxons, and of his son Adulf, and even beyond their reigns, Alhstan possessed great worldly power and enormous influence in counsel. By his military labours he subdued the Kentish people and the East Angles for King Egbirht. Seeing that Adulf was of a gentler disposition, he continually urged him through admonition towards knowledge of kingship. Against the Danes, who were then beginning to harass the island, he roused the sluggish king to action, himself supplying money to the treasury and himself assembling the army. Anyone who reads the annals will find that through him many things of this kind were both steadfastly undertaken and successfully begun. He lived as bishop for fifty years. Happy the man who for so long stood ready for good works! I would gladly praise him, were it not that, carried away by human greed, he usurped things that were not his due when he subjected our monastery to his own interests. We feel the grievance caused by that shamelessness to this very day, although immediately after his death that place threw off every act of violence by the bishops and remained free until our own time, when it fell again into the same danger. So reckless a thing is it to begin evil, because even if its author falls, the example does not pass away. A stubborn mind delights in recalling what evil another man has done and in learning what evil it may itself be able to do. The monks of that time lamented the loss of their freedom with less disgrace than we have suffered in losing ours, especially since it was immediately restored through their efforts. And, as we have learned from written records, just as that man was exceedingly ardent in greed, so he was outstanding in generosity. Our plunderers both ravage and oppress us, so that not even a free voice is allowed to express our grief. Anyone may recognise the extent of his power from this fact: when the king himself returned from Rome, Alhstan barred him from his kingdom and, after placing the king’s son in power under the semblance of kingship, did not allow the old man to return to his own realm until peace had been made on Alhstan’s terms. He left his church exceedingly wealthy, having acquired estates from every direction, so many that, if you heard their number, you would marvel either at the man’s greed or at his good fortune.

² He was followed by Hadmund, Etheleg, Alsi, Asser and Sighelm. The last two are known to have lived under King Alfred, the fourth son of Adulf. Asser, summoned from Saint Dewi, possessed learning that was by no means contemptible, and clarified Boethius’s book On the Consolation of Philosophy in plainer words, a labour necessary in those days but ridiculous in ours. This was done at the king’s command, so that it might more easily be translated by him into English. Sighelm was sent overseas on account of the king’s alms, and also to Saint Thomas in India. With astonishing success, such as anyone in this age might marvel at, he reached India and, returning from there, brought back precious stones of an exotic kind, in which that land is rich. Some of them may still be seen among the ornaments of the church. Sighelm was succeeded by Ethelword. When he died, the bishopric of the West Saxons remained vacant for seven years, compelled, of course, by the force of warfare. Afterwards Archbishop Pleimund and King Edward, son of Alfred, compelled by the threats and decrees of Pope Formosus, made five bishops in place of two, as we have often said and now repeat, not inappropriately, in order to preserve the sequence of events. They appointed At helm to the church of Wells, Edulf to Crediton, Adelstan to Cornwall, Fridestan to Winchester, and Werstan to Sherborne. Athelm therefore had Somerset, Edulf Devon, and Adelstan Cornwall, though I can nowhere find the names of Adelstan’s successors. Three districts were left to Werstan: Dorset, Berkshire and Wiltshire. Nevertheless, not long afterwards, while the same king was still alive, a bishop of his own was appointed for Wiltshire, named Ethelstan, who had his see at Ramsbury. Werstan is said to have been killed by the pagans in the battle fought by King Ethelstan against Analav. For when, as has been said elsewhere, the king deliberately withdrew, the bishop arrived with his men for the battle and, unaware of the ambush, pitched his tent there on account of the level green field from which the king had departed. Analav, who had reconnoitred the place the previous day, came prepared by night and immediately destroyed whatever he found there.

³ After him the bishops were Athelbald, Alfred and Wlsin. Dunstan, Archbishop of Canterbury, when he was Bishop of London, had made Wlsin abbot at Westminster, establishing there a small monastery for twelve monks on the site where Mellitus had once built a church to Saint Peter. When he administered the office entrusted to him with holiness and prudence, episcopal rank at Sherborne was bestowed upon him. He immediately established monks in the episcopal see, expelling the clerics, lest he should seem to be sleeping amid the great diligence of the bishops of his own time. He gave the monks nothing from the bishopric for the necessities of life, but purchased provisions for them from elsewhere, and also intended to appoint an abbot over them. When they protested that, while he lived, they could not bear to be deprived of his gentle rule, he yielded reluctantly, openly declaring that this would prove the beginning of great calamities for their successors. Evidence of his holiness was often manifested during his life, but especially at his death. For when he was already approaching the gates of death, with the eyes of his mind opened he cried out in song: “Look, I see the heavens opened, and Jesus standing at the right hand of the power of God.” [Acts 7:56] Having sung these words without faltering, he died while still singing. Holy and venerable soul, who could borrow the words of the first and most blessed martyr! Blessed soul, who saw heaven opened and deserved to enter it! His staff and certain other episcopal insignia are still preserved there, displaying, so to speak, a living image of his modesty and humility.

⁴ He was succeeded by Alfwold, Ethelric, Ethelsi, Brihtwin, Elmer, Birhtuuin, and his brother Alfwold, who became bishop from being a monk of Winchester. At Sherborne he set up an image of the most holy Swithun and raised high the torch of his veneration. It is certain that he lived a most reverent life and that, amid the most lavish preparations for feasts which were then customary in England from the time of the Danes, he always used a wooden bowl containing no rich food whatever, and a small cup filled with water so that every taste of the ale might be diluted. I myself heard a trustworthy priest, already sprinkled with grey hairs, recounting his virtues with tearful joy. Among them this has remained in my memory: no one, either before or after his death, could ever sleep upon his seat without punishment, for he would immediately leap up in terror at hideous apparitions rebuking him for daring, though unworthy, to occupy the bishop’s seat. Many people witnessed this on more than one occasion. A bitter quarrel had arisen between him and Earl Godwin, though I do not know the cause. On an appointed day, when the matter proceeded not towards peace but towards dispute, the bishop departed, after the argument hurling these threats at the earl: “By my Lady Saint Mary, it will go badly for you, because you have grieved me.” Returning home, he had scarcely set foot upon the ground, exchanging horseback travel for walking, when suddenly a servant of the earl arrived at full gallop, the beating of the horse’s hooves revealing the speed of his journey. Falling miserably at the bishop’s knees, he begged him to return. His lord, immediately after the bishop’s departure, had begun to burn inwardly at heart and could scarcely move his tongue. Then the bishop, his anger not yet calmed, said: “By my Lady Saint Mary, woe will befall him!” But, moved by the united prayers of those around him, he forgave the offence, gave his blessing, and restored the sick man to health. The priest also related that the bishop was devoted to Saint Cuthbert with ready obedience, joyfully shedding tears whenever he was remembered. Almost always he kept that antiphon about the saint in his heart, repeated it with his mouth, and practised it in his deeds:

⁵ “Saint Cuthbert, holy bishop,
A man perfect in all things,
Amid the crowds he was a monk,
Worthy of reverence from all.”

⁶ As his daily love for Cuthbert grew sweetly in his heart, and the good flame within him could no longer contain itself, he journeyed to holy Durham. There, lifting the lid from the tomb in an act that seems exceedingly bold, he spoke faithfully with Cuthbert as though with a friend, left a small gift as a perpetual pledge of his love, and departed. When at last the appointed moment of death drew near, he continued singing the antiphon for as long as his voice remained; when speech failed him, he signalled with his hand for the others to continue it. Thus, with his final breath, he gave expression to the love he bore for the saint. After his death the bishopric of Wiltshire was again united with that of Ramsbury. I shall explain how this came about, once I have first given the names of the bishops.

⁷ The first Bishop of Wiltshire was Ethelstan, the second Odo, afterwards archbishop, the third Osulf, the fourth Algar, and the fifth Elfstan. He had first been a monk of Saint Ethelwold at Abingdon, and the writer of that saint’s Life relates a miracle of his obedience in these words: “There was in the community a certain brother named Elstan, a simple man of great obedience, whom the abbot ordered to oversee the food of the monastery’s craftsmen. Devoting himself most earnestly to this service, he cooked the meat himself every day, diligently tending the fire for the workmen, bringing water and cleaning the vessels afterwards, while the abbot supposed that he did this with the comfort and assistance of another servant. One day, as the abbot was making his customary round of the monastery, he unexpectedly came upon that brother standing beside a boiling cauldron, and saw that all the vessels were clean and the floor swept. Delighted by what he had done, he said to him, “Brother Elstan, you have stolen this act of obedience from me. But if you are the soldier you show yourself to be, put your hand into the boiling water and quickly draw out a morsel for me from the bottom.” He obeyed, and the unconquerable heat yielded to his bold faith, so that the monk suffered no harm. We afterwards saw that same brother as an abbot, and later, raised to episcopal dignity, he rested in the Lord with a holy end.” The sixth was Siricius. The seventh was Alfric; both of these, as was mentioned above, became Archbishops of Canterbury. The eighth was Brihtwold, formerly a monk of Glastonbury, who administered the bishopric for many years, from the time of King Egelred down to the last Edward. In the time of King Cnut, while keeping heavenly vigils at Glastonbury on one occasion, as he often did, he experienced a divine vision. For when the thought came upon him which frequently troubled him, concerning the almost complete extinction of the royal line of the English, sleep overtook him as he reflected upon it. And look, being caught up on high, he saw Peter, prince of the apostles, holding by the hand Edward, son of King Egelred, who was then an exile in Normandy, and consecrating him king. A celibate life was appointed for him, and a fixed number of twenty-four years was reckoned out as the term that would bring his reign to an end. When Brihtwold complained to him about the succession, Peter replied: “The kingdom of the English belongs to God; after you he will provide a king according to his own pleasure.” When the span of his life was completed, Brihtwold was buried at Glastonbury, whose possessions he had enlarged with many estates and revenues; he was also exceedingly generous towards our monastery. Edward was already reigning at that time, and immediately thought it right to grant the bishopric to his chaplain Hermann, a Fleming by birth. Since the poverty of the see did not satisfy the greatness, or rather the greed, of his ambition, because at Ramsbury there was neither a community of clerics nor anything sufficient for his maintenance, he asked the king not to allow a man whom he had thought worthy of honour to live without honour. His predecessors, he said, had been natives of the country, while he was a foreigner and had no resources inherited from his parents by which to support himself. He therefore asked that the monastery of Malmesbury be granted to him to make into his see, since its abbot had conveniently died not long before. The king, through that simplicity to which he was always more inclined than to prudence, considered that this could lawfully be granted, but three days later he reversed it. For before Hermann could fasten himself upon the place either in fact or by possession, monks of exceptional prudence, hearing what had been done at court and how justice had been circumvented, hastened with the greatest speed to Earl Godwin and his son. Shocked by the shameful novelty of the matter, they approached the king and persuaded him to change his decision. This was easy for men of the highest rank and greatest authority, since both the justice of their cause and the king’s pliability supported them. Thus Hermann, before he had even fully entered upon possession, was expelled. Confounded by this disgrace, he left England in indignation. Not long afterwards, warned by illness and at the same time angry with fortune because worldly affairs had prospered little for him, he renounced the world and became a monk at Saint Bertin. But, as often happens in such cases, when that sudden impulse towards religion grew colder day by day, he began to contemplate returning to England. The man, accustomed to attendance and brought up amid luxuries, regretted being deprived of the comforts he had known from his earliest years. A favourable report had also reached his ears that Alwold, Bishop of Sherborne, had died, and he hoped to have that bishopric united with his own through old promises made by Queen Edgith. He therefore returned with greater eagerness and found the outcome he hoped for. Godwin, whom he greatly feared, was now dead, and his son had sided with the king’s wishes in this as in other matters, aspiring, of course, to adoption. Hermann therefore received the whole bishopric of Sherborne, together with its three districts, by the gift of King Edward, and, outliving his benefactor through his own longevity, survived into the time of William. Under William, when it was decreed by the authority of the canons that episcopal sees should be transferred from villages to cities, he moved his episcopal throne from Sherborne to Salisbury, which in place of a city was a fortress situated on high ground and enclosed by a substantial wall. Though reasonably supplied with other necessities, it suffered from a shortage of water, so much so that water was sold there at a pitiable price. There he began a new church, but old age and death overtook him before the time of its dedication. Nevertheless, when Osmund, a most excellent man, succeeded him, the church was brought to completion and everything else that was fitting was increased. Clerics distinguished for learning came from every quarter and were not merely gladly retained but generously induced to remain. Indeed, the splendour of the canons shone there more brightly than elsewhere, equally distinguished in chant and learning. A great collection of books was gathered, since the bishop himself did not disdain either to write or to bind books that had been written. He excelled in chastity, a virtue concerning which even fickle rumour would have been ashamed to lie. Hence it happened that he sometimes seemed harsher than was fair towards penitents, because he punished more severely in others what he did not find in himself. He was free from ambition, neither foolishly losing what was his nor seeking what belonged to others. He did not extort burdensome payments from the abbeys situated within his diocese. Nevertheless, it is believed that whatever stain of the world he had contracted he paid for through patient endurance, being wasted by a long illness before his death.

Of Cernel. #

¹ In the district of Dorset are the abbeys of Cernel and Middeltun for men, and Scefton for women, besides some others which have either been completely destroyed or greatly diminished. We have learned that Cernel had its beginning in this way. Augustine, the first teacher of the English, after Kent had been subjected to Christ, travelled through the remaining provinces of the English as far as the rule of King Ethelbirht extended. For, as we have said elsewhere, he had under his authority everything inhabited by the English in Britain except the Northumbrians alone. Augustine therefore entered the district named above and, by frequently rescuing prey from the Devil’s damnation, increased the number of Christians. But in that place his success was checked by the envy of the Devil, who grieved at so great a gain of souls. The inhabitants therefore attacked the man and his companions with furious minds and, after dishonouring him with great insults, even fastening fish-tails to his clothes, they thrust him away, drove him onward and expelled him. Patiently and modestly he endured the insult, rejoicing for the name of Jesus [Acts 5:41], and, so as not to provoke the madness of those wretched people still further, he shook the dust from his feet against them [Matthew 10:14; Mark 6:11; Luke 9:5] and withdrew about three miles away. Then, when the storm of persecution had passed, he regained peace of mind and saw with the eye of his mind that the divine presence was near; with a cheerful face he said to his companions: “I see God, who will both reward us with grace and pour a better spirit into those raging men.” As soon as he had spoken, they came hurrying after him, asking forgiveness for what they had done and promising their faith. The event, or rather the words, gave the place its name, so that it was called Cernel, from two words, one Hebrew and one Latin, because El means God in Hebrew. Augustine said that he saw God, and truth did not fail his words, since the people, whose minds had so quickly been changed from their former madness, believed. Indeed, when there was no water there for baptism, at the bishop’s command a spring burst forth from hidden channels, and to this day it is held in honour by the inhabitants both for Augustine’s merit and for the usefulness it provides. There, in later years, Eduuold, brother of Edmund the king and martyr, spent his life as a hermit on bread alone for food and water, having grown weary, as report says, of the pleasures of the world because a harsher fortune had overtaken both himself and his brother. For it often happens that a noble spirit, warned by the adversities of the world, turns more attentively towards God, who knows neither how to deceive nor to be deceived. The first virtue, indeed, is to desire good of one’s own accord; the second is to be capable of being compelled towards it. Yet Paul, who was driven towards the good by a harsh stroke [Acts 9:3–9], is not, as I judge, reckoned of less merit than Peter, who willingly and immediately hastened when the Lord called him [Matthew 4:18–20]. Eduuold, therefore, after living a religious life and being buried there with a great reputation for holiness, gave occasion in later times to Egeluuard, a very wealthy man, to build a monastery to Saint Peter in that place. He endowed it not so meagrely as is supposed, but rather abundantly, if only those responsible would devote its resources not to their own worthless dependants but to the servants of God. But ambition has so changed and perverted everything in England in our time that the possessions which men of old generously bestowed upon monasteries are squandered more to satisfy the gluttony of their owners than used to support the lives of monks, guests and the poor. Certainly the donors will not be deprived of their reward; let these men see how their intentions will one day be weighed in the divine balance.

Of Middeltun. #

¹ King Ethelstan built the church of Middeltun for the soul of his brother Eduin, whom, corrupted by wicked counsel, he drove out of England. I have not elsewhere passed over in silence what his end was. There he deposited many relics of saints purchased from overseas Britain; among them are especially prominent the bones of the most blessed Samson, once Archbishop of Dol. He was a most holy man and plainly worthy of God, some of whose virtues I would relate here, were they not already well known and were my hands not occupied with writing the miracles of saints native to this land.

Of Scefton. #

¹ Scefton is now a small town, though once a city, situated on a steep height among the hills. Evidence of its antiquity is given by a stone in the nuns’ chapter house, transferred there from the ruins of a very ancient wall, bearing this inscription: “In the year of the Lord’s Incarnation 880, King Alfred built this city, in the eighth year of his reign.” There Elgiva, wife of Edmund, who was the great-grandson of this Alfred, founded a monastery of nuns, and there after death she laid down the remains of her flesh. She was a woman always intent upon good works, endowed with compassion and gentleness, so that she would secretly redeem even criminals whom the grim sentence of judges had publicly condemned. Costly clothing, which for some women is an enticement to surrender modesty, was for her a means of generosity, so that whenever she saw a poor person she would immediately give away even the dearest garment. Even envy would have praised the beauty of her body and the skill of her hands, since it could find nothing to criticise. I have spoken elsewhere of the gift of prophecy which God bestowed upon her. During her life, indeed, she performed works of virtue, but after her death miracles shone forth, as I once sang in verse:

² “For some years she endured the affliction of disease,
And, purified and refined, gave her soul to God.
When therefore she had fulfilled the destiny of life, her blessed remains
Were graciously made illustrious by God through countless signs.
Those deprived of sight and hearing, if they worship at her tomb,
Are restored to health and prove the holy woman’s merit.
The lame man who approaches returns home with an upright step;
The man bereft of reason returns sound, rich in good sense.”

³ In that place lies, or rather once lay, Saint Edward, the grandson of this holy woman through her son Edgar, whom heaven received after he was innocently slain through the treachery of his stepmother. His first burial was at Wareham, which lies by the sea not far from the place called Corf where he was killed. He lay there for three years, while his enemies grudged the dead man burial in consecrated ground just as they had grudged the living man his royal dignity. But divine power was present to raise the innocent man through the glory of signs. There lights were shown from heaven; there a lame man recovered his step; there a mute man regained the use of speech; there, in short, every infirmity gave way to health. The report spread throughout England, proclaiming the martyr’s merits. Stirred by it, the woman who had caused his death set out for that place; but the familiar animal she was accustomed to ride, formerly swifter than the winds, so that, as the saying goes, it outran the very breezes, now stood motionless by God’s will. Though the servants pressed it with whips, their labour was spent in vain, and when the animal was changed the same thing happened. At last her brutish heart understood what the portent meant; therefore she consented that what she could not do herself should be done by another, and that the sacred relics should be raised from their obscure tomb and carried to Scefton with great glory. At a later time, however, part of the body was taken to Lesmonasterium and part to Abingdon. Everywhere the saint remains powerful, but especially at Scefton, where he shines both by the grace of miracles and amid the most holy choir of virgins; and that place has taken its name from him, being popularly called, by metonymy, Saint Edward’s. His lung is displayed as a miracle, still pulsing with undiminished freshness although the whole body was consumed long ago. But because almost every miracle is open to criticism, some distort this one by a hostile interpretation, saying that it is fitting for the lung to remain incorrupt because, according to Suetonius, if it is steeped in poison it can be destroyed neither by decay nor even by fire. For it is certain that he was pierced with a dagger while drinking, and they maintain that poison was given to him when he was thirsty, but that the force of the poison was anticipated by the blade. Yet I, after considering the matter more carefully, recognise this as false, because poison could not have penetrated the vital organs so quickly, especially since Suetonius said this not of the lung but of the heart. Let it therefore be a heavenly miracle, beyond the evasions of any man.

Of Wilton. #

¹ In the district of Wiltshire are the monasteries of Malmesbury for men, and Wilton and Amesbury for women. I have resolved to speak elsewhere about Malmesbury; concerning Amesbury, nothing else has come to my knowledge except that it and Wherwell were founded by Elfrida, the killer of Saint Edward, as an act of penance. Saint Melorius lies there, though I am uncertain of either his lineage or his holiness. At the monastery of Wilton, the blessed Edigtha, daughter of King Edgar, adorns the resting place of her bones with her beloved remains and cherishes it with her love. Wilton is a town of no small size, situated upon the River Wile, and of such importance that the whole district takes its name from it. There Edigtha, dedicated to God from infancy, won the favour of God by her uncorrupted virginity and that of men by her diligent service, suppressing pride in her birth through nobility of mind. I have heard one thing from my elders in which she considerably offended human judgement, namely that she deceived their eyes by the display of gold-adorned clothing. For she went about dressed in finer garments than the holiness of her profession seemed to require. Hence, when Saint Athelwold openly rebuked her, she is said to have replied, neither foolishly nor without wit: “The true and unalterable judgement of God is concerned only with the conscience of mortals, for even beneath garments of mournful squalor, as Augustine says, there may be ostentation. Therefore I think that a mind may remain as uncorrupted beneath these golden garments as beneath your torn skins.” Saint Dunstan had seen her, during the consecration of the basilica of the blessed Dionysius which she had built out of love for the martyr, repeatedly stretch out her right thumb and trace the sign of the cross upon her forehead. Greatly delighted, he said: “May this finger never decay.” Immediately afterwards, during the celebration of Mass, he burst into tears, tears so abundant that with his sobbing voice he disturbed the deacon standing nearby. When asked the reason, he said: “Soon this flourishing rose will wither; soon this bird beloved of God will fly away, six weeks from this day.” The truth of events immediately fulfilled the bishop’s prophecy. For that noble woman, steadfast in her purpose, died on the foretold day before reaching the full strength of youth, when she was twenty-three years old. Not long afterwards the same blessed man saw in a dream Saint Dionysius holding the virgin affectionately by the hand, by a divine command, ordering that she should be honoured by God’s servants on earth just as she was venerated by her bridegroom and Lord in heaven. Thus, as miracles multiplied at her tomb, orders were given for the virgin’s body to be raised. It was found entirely reduced to ashes except for the finger, the abdomen, and the parts beneath the abdomen. When the saint was puzzled by this, the virgin herself appeared to him in a vision, saying: “It is no wonder that those parts of the body decayed, because it is natural for lifeless bodies to dissolve into certain hidden recesses of nature, and because I myself, being a young woman, sinned with those members. But it is right that the belly should be corrupted by no decay, since it was never inflamed by any lust; I was free from gluttony and from carnal intercourse.” Her brother was King Egelred, a man almost born for the destruction of England through his own idleness. He was succeeded by Cnut, a Dane by birth, an energetic man, but one who, because of the ancestral hostility of his people, did not love the English saints. Made still more insolent by this habit, when he was at Wilton on a certain Pentecost he poured out solemn mockery upon the virgin, saying that “he would never believe the daughter of King Edgar to be a saint, since Edgar, given over to vices and especially a slave to lust, had behaved towards his subjects more like a tyrant.” While he belched out these words with barbarous crudity, indulging his own temper, Archbishop Ednod, who was present, contradicted him. Cnut, becoming still more agitated, ordered the tomb to be opened so that he might see what sign of holiness the dead virgin could produce. When the tomb was broken open, the dead woman, with a veil spread before her face, seemed to rise as far as the waist and make an assault upon the defiant king. Terrified by this, he drew his head far back, his knees lost their strength, and he fell collapsing to the ground. The fall battered his body so severely that, with his breath stopped for a considerable time, he was thought to be dead. But when his strength gradually returned, he rejoiced in his shame, because, although severely chastised, he had been preserved for repentance. Her feast is therefore held in reverence in many places throughout England, and no one may presume to violate it with impunity. In the same church lies her mother Wlfrid, who, contrary to the foolishness of popular belief, was not a nun, but had merely taken the veil by her own decision through sudden fear of the king; it is certain that the veil was torn away and she was forced into the royal bed. Because he had lain with a woman who had been, at least in appearance, a nun, Saint Dunstan rebuked him, and he underwent seven years of penance. She too, once she had given birth, did not cling to repeated pleasure but rather grieved over and despised it, and she is truly held and celebrated as a saint.

Of Abingdon. #

¹ In the district of Berkshire there are two monasteries, Abingdon and Reading, both for men. The monastery of Abingdon was founded by Cissa, father of Ina, then by Ina himself, King of the West Saxons, and by many kings from its earliest days. But in the time of King Alfred, when the Danes ranged everywhere with barbarous violence, the buildings of the place were levelled to the ground. Then the king, forestalled by evil counsels, took all the lands belonging to it for the use of himself and his followers. But King Edred, Alfred’s grandson, pitying the desolation of the place and at the same time providing for the soul of his grandfather, restored everything that had been taken away through the agency of Athelwold, whom he had appointed abbot there. He conceived such affection for the church that he himself marked out the sites of the buildings and laid their foundations, intending to construct there a monastery of the greatest renown. He would have fulfilled his intention had not death removed him prematurely. Athelwold nevertheless persisted in what had been begun, but before he could put the finishing hand to the work he was taken away by King Edgar of renowned memory to the bishopric of Winchester. Ordgar, who succeeded him as abbot, completed his master’s undertakings, and the place was enriched and raised to an extraordinary height, each successive abbot always attempting something new so that he might not be thought inferior to his predecessors. In our own time Abbot Faritius was especially distinguished in improving its affairs, a Tuscan by birth, a physician by profession, a citizen of Arezzo, and indeed one of our own monks. Since I have resolved to portray his praises, I shall not invent anything myself, but shall set down the verses of my fellow monk Peter. In them both the praiseworthy virtue of the abbot will shine forth and, if anyone considers these words worthy of reading, he will also perceive the elegance of an especially accomplished poet. This, then, will provide a small sample of his eloquence; elsewhere, in many other works, he has attained the fame of a still higher glory.

² “A worthy and prudent man, a man truly rich in counsel,
He enriched outward affairs and tended the inward life of conduct.
Instructed in all the fruits that learning imparts,
He turned the resources of wisdom to the honour of the Church.
Skilled in all the laws that medicine teaches,
By his gift for healing he won the favour even of kings.
Kings and nobles could be seen submitting and obeying,
Believing it safe to live according to his direction.
Hence favour at court increased his influence so greatly
That he dared contend for his rights against powerful men.
These he broke so thoroughly and reduced so low
That, as master, he pressed down lords now made subject to him.
I am mistaken if Giffard did not bend his neck before the cowl,
A man unequalled among those of noble birth.
Thus he brought possessions long lost back beneath his control;
Thus he drove away ambition that snarled against him.
Why should I recall the crowd of nobles and the humbler people?
Whoever challenged his rights, he overcame.
From these things came the man’s reputation, and from reputation his glory grew;
Through these things the fortunes of the church swiftly flourished.
Mindful that the stream of blessings was God’s gift,
He turned all outward splendour towards that which was within.
Added estates, royal vestments, gifts and robes,
Rich vessels and embroidered tapestries bear witness for me.
Golden splendour flashes across the panelled ceilings,
Metalwork and jewelled craftsmanship fill the onlooker with wonder.
Yet life did not last long enough to fulfil his blessed desire;
A rarely so lamentable fate shattered both together.”

³ Of Reading.

⁴ At Reading there was once a monastery of nuns, but it had already been abolished for many years. King Henry, intending to restore it as part of the penance imposed upon him, joined to it two other monasteries, Leominster and Cholsey, which had long since been destroyed; and he established it between the two rivers Kennet and Thames, in honour of the Mother of the Lord and John the Evangelist, in a place where it could provide lodging for almost everyone travelling to the more populous cities of England. He placed Cluniac monks there, a distinguished example of holiness and a testimony to tireless hospitality. There is no need to speak of the bodies of saints resting in these two monasteries, since, having been brought there from elsewhere, they dwell there as strangers, and, having long ago been proclaimed by the praises of writers, they have no need to lament any silence on our part.

Of the Bishops of Wells. #

¹ The third bishopric of the West Saxons was at Wells, a town in the district of Somerset, so called because of the abundance of springs bubbling up there. From the time of King Edward the Elder down to the time of the younger William, these were its bishops: Athelm and Wifelm, both afterwards Archbishops of Canterbury; Elfeh, Wifelm, Brihtelm, Kineward, Sigar, Elwine, Livingus, also called Elstan, who afterwards, in the time of King Egelred, became Archbishop of Canterbury after the most holy Elfeg; Ethelwin, Abbot of Evesham, afterwards expelled; Brihtwin; Elwin, restored again, while Brihtwin was expelled; and again, after Ethelwin was expelled, Brihtwin was restored; Merewit, also called Brihtui; Dudeca; and Giso, a Lotharingian by birth, in the time of King Edward and William the Great. All these had their sees at Wells, in the church of Saint Andrew. But when they were succeeded by John, a native of Tours and a physician by profession, who had made no small profit from that craft, he thought it beneath his dignity to remain without distinction in a village and resolved to transfer the episcopal throne to Bath. Although he had considered this in vain while William the father was alive, he accomplished it in the time of William’s son. Not content with this, he also transferred the whole city to the use of himself and his successors, purchasing from King Henry for five hundred pounds of silver the city in which hot water rises from the baths, whose founder is believed to have been Julius Caesar. Those waters are healthful for bathers, though their sulphurous smell is unpleasant to newcomers until familiarity overcomes the revulsion of the senses. King Offa had founded a monastery there, and Edgar, as with many others, had enlarged it in his customary fashion, delighted by the magnificence of the place and because he had received the crown of the kingdom there. John therefore obtained this abbey from the king without difficulty. At first he treated the monks somewhat harshly because they were dull and, in his estimation, barbarous, taking away all the lands that supplied their food and providing them through his lay servants with only a meagre allowance. But as the years passed and new monks were admitted, he began to act more gently, granting the prior a small amount of land by which they might somehow maintain themselves and their guests. Many things were nobly begun and completed there through him in ornaments and books, and especially in the community of monks, who are equally worthy of praise for their knowledge of letters and their diligence in the divine offices. He was a highly successful physician, not through theoretical knowledge but through practice, according to a report whose truth I do not know. He delighted in the company of learned men so that he might gain some measure of praise for himself through association with them; yet his wit in answering those who spoke against him was sharper than befitted his rank. He enjoyed good health and was generous both to himself and to others. He died at a great age, but even in dying could not be softened enough to restore the monks’ lands with a full hand, leaving his successors an example not to be imitated. He was buried in the church of Saint Peter, which he had raised from its foundations with a great and elaborate circuit of walls. Thus Andrew yielded to Simon, brother to brother, the lesser to the greater [John 1:40–42]. The whole territory of that bishopric lies within the single district of Somerset, and it contains three abbeys of men: Glastonbury, Athelney and Muchelney.

² Of Glastonbury.

³ Glastonbury is a town situated in a certain marshy recess, though it can be reached both on horseback and on foot, and is attractive neither in situation nor in pleasantness. There King Ina was the first to build a monastery, on the advice of the most blessed Aldhelm, granting it many estates which are still named today. Through varying changes of fortune, but with an unbroken succession, the place flourished with a community of monks until the coming of the Danes under King Alfred. Then, like everything else, it was laid waste and for some years lacked its familiar inhabitants. Afterwards Dunstan splendidly restored whatever the storm of wars had crushed, having previously lived there as a monk in the solitary life. Later, through the generosity of King Edmund, he obtained all the possessions that had formerly belonged to it, and many more besides, and established an abbey such as there neither is nor ever has been anywhere else in England; so extensive and advantageous are its estates, and so abundant is the beauty and antiquity of its books. Yet, by some misfortune I cannot explain, ever since the coming of the Normans it has continually been broken down by the worst of rulers, making progress neither in new buildings nor in the welfare of its inhabitants. The abbots, puffed up by the splendour of their possessions, behave not as religious men but as tyrants, arrogant but ineffective abroad, cruel and oppressive at home. To prove this, the conduct of Turstin alone will suffice. Having been made abbot of that monastery by the gift of King William the father, he squandered its lands and money on the abuses of his own parasites. He harshly demanded strict observance of the rule from the monks, while at the same time treating them miserably in the provision of food. Hence came quarrels in words and discord in spirit; indeed, as Lucan says:

⁴ “The hungry multitude does not know how to fear.”

⁵ After quarrels they came to arms, and the monks, driven by the soldiers into the church, lamented their miseries before the holy altar. But when the soldiers burst in, two of them were killed there, fourteen were wounded, and the rest were driven back. Indeed, the fury of the raging men, while attacking the monks from a distance, even caused the crucifix to bristle with arrows. Because of the guilt of this crime, the abbot, disgraced throughout the king’s lifetime, was sent into exile at Caen; after the king’s death, however, money having been reckoned among the means of atoning for the offence, he was restored to his office. Shameless and infamous man, who, conscious of so great a sacrilege, dared once again to intrude himself into the place he had violated. Patrick lies there, if the tradition is worthy of belief, a Briton by birth and a disciple of the blessed Germanus of Auxerre, whom Pope Celestine ordained bishop and sent as apostle to the Irish. After labouring for many years in the conversion of that people, making some progress through his own efforts with God’s grace working alongside him, he was at last prompted by weariness of his long pilgrimage and by approaching old age to think of returning to his homeland, and there he ended his days. His master was followed by Indraht, son of an Irish king, than whose character nothing was gentler or holier, and seven companions of distinguished rank from that land. They were killed there when robbers fell upon them, and believing antiquity consecrated them as martyrs. What worthy account, moreover, could my feeble speech devise of the other saints resting there, given the greatness of the subject? King Edmund sent many there whom he had discovered and raised from the earth during his northern expedition, among them Hilda, abbess of the monastery once called Streneshalh and now Witebi, then a house of nuns but now of monks. How highly her merits were esteemed will readily be shown by the history of the trustworthy historian Bede. There was also Celfrith, abbot of the monastery of Wearmouth, about whom the same Bede composed a separate book. In extreme old age, while travelling to Rome, he was overtaken by death at Langres and buried there, but it is certain that he was afterwards brought back. There is also part of the bones of Aidan, the first Bishop of Lindisfarne. For it is too well known to be doubted that Colman carried another part to Scotland, as the same historian testifies. Benignus the confessor is also honoured there, who lived as a hermit not far from this place and, through remarkable miracles, stirred the neighbouring monks to venerate and translate his remains. In that monastery were buried King Edmund, of whom I spoke above, the restorer of the place, and his son Edgar, who, not ungrateful for his father’s memory, added to his father’s gifts a great accumulation of very extensive possessions.

Of Athelney. #

¹ Athelney is not an island in the sea, but is so inaccessible because of the overflowing waters of lakes and marshes that it can be reached only by boat. A very large alder wood there contains deer, roe deer, and many other animals of that kind. The solid ground, scarcely two acres in extent, contains a small monastery and the monks’ buildings. Its founder was King Alfred, who, when driven from the province by the Danes, had once sheltered there for some time in a safe hiding place. Afterwards, when in a dream he received Saint Cuthbert as a guarantor of his restoration, he promised God that he would build a monastery there. He built a church which, though small because of the restricted site, was constructed in a novel style. Four posts driven into the ground support the entire structure, with four screens carried around it in a circular design. There are few monks there, and they are poor, but they either value their poverty highly or find consolation in it through their love of peace and solitude. They raise the praises of their patron Saint Eielwin to the stars in their proclamations and experience his holiness through the benefits continually bestowed upon them. There is a persistent tradition that he was the brother of Kenwalh, King of the West Saxons, and that he exalted the greatness of his birth by the excellence of his holiness. Though continually bound by the fetters of illness, he served God no less diligently. Having come to a good end, he is readily present with remedies for all who invoke him.

Of Muchelney. #

¹ The founder of the monastery of Muchelney was the same man who founded Middeltun, and, moved there by the same reason, he bestowed similar gifts of villages and relics; with this further advantage, that the monks are able to keep their heavenly vigils more freely in seclusion because the place is less frequented by gatherings of people. It is difficult of access and can generally be crossed on foot or horseback in summer, but never in winter. But enough of this; the account must now turn elsewhere, for the remaining parts of this province call us onward.

Of the Bishops of Crediton. #

¹ The course of the bishops of Crediton will therefore be unfolded in this account. Crediton is a small town in Devon, which is commonly called Devonshire, twelve miles from Exeter. The following bishops occupied the see there in succession: Edulf, Ethelgar, Elfwold, Sideman, Alfric, Elfwold, Ednod, also called Wine, and Livingus. Livingus, formerly a monk of Winchester and Abbot of Tavistock, became Bishop of Crediton and enjoyed the greatest intimacy and influence with King Cnut. He spent much time with him in Denmark and accompanied him on his journey to Rome. When their business at Rome had been completed and the king set out for Denmark by the overland route, Livingus travelled by sea to England, carrying the royal letters and charged with executing the king’s commands. Having wisely and admirably completed everything entrusted to him before the king’s arrival, he advanced so greatly in the king’s favour that, when his uncle Brihtwold, Bishop of Cornwall, died, he was permitted at his own discretion to unite the two bishoprics. Ambitious and overbearing, he was, as is said, an unconquered tyrant over ecclesiastical law, caring for nothing that might prevent him from carrying out his every wish. Indeed, we have heard from our elders that when he breathed his last, such a dreadful crashing sound was heard throughout all England that it was thought to be the collapse and end of the whole world. He was buried at Tavistock, upon which place he had bestowed many splendid gifts, and he had gained such favour for himself among the monks that even today, through a custom continued by their successors, they sing the fifteen Gradual Psalms [Psalms 120–134] every day for the repose of his soul.

² In the time of King Edward he was succeeded by Lefric, who had been brought up and educated among the Lotharingians. He transferred the episcopal see to the city called Exeter because of the River Exe, which flows along and washes the walls. King Ethelstan was the first to bring this city under English control, driving out the Britons, and he fortified it with towers and surrounded it with a wall of squared stones. Trade of every kind is so abundant there that you need desire nothing in vain which you judge useful for human life, although the soil is barren and poor, scarcely producing even meagre oats and often only empty husks without grain. Lefric expelled the nuns from the monastery of Saint Peter and established there the bishopric and canons, who, contrary to the custom of the English and according to the practice of the Lotharingians, ate in a single refectory and slept in a single dormitory. This rule was handed down to their successors, although through the luxury of the times it has now declined in some respects. The clerics have a steward, appointed solely by the bishop, who provides them daily with what is necessary for food and yearly with what is required for clothing.

³ Lefric was succeeded in the time of King William by Osbern, a Norman by birth and brother of the most distinguished Earl William. He had lived generously and on intimate terms in England under King Edward, since he was closely connected to the royal family by kinship. Hence in food and other matters he was more inclined towards English customs and had little regard for Norman display. He praised the customs of his lord King Edward and, when others practised them, showed his approval to those sitting with him by hand gesture. Thus, after the manner of the bishops of old, he was content with the existing buildings and was regarded as generous in spirit and chaste in body. He lived until the fourth year of King Henry, having been blind for a number of years as old age approached.

Of Tavistock. #

¹ There is in Devon a monastery of monks beside the River Tavi called Tavistock, which received the beginning of its foundation through Ordgar, Earl of Devon, father of Elfrida, who was the wife of King Edgar, and the promise of its growth through Bishop Livingus. The place is pleasant because of the convenience of its woods and has an abundant catch of fish. The church is suitably constructed, and streams from the river run through the monks’ buildings, carrying away by their current whatever refuse they encounter. Saint Rumonus, a bishop, is honoured and lies there, adorned with the beauty of his shrine, although no written authority supports the tradition. You will find the same thing not only there but in many places in England, for I believe that the violence of warfare has destroyed all knowledge of their deeds, so that only the bare names of the saints are known, together with whatever miracles they now display.

² In the same monastery the tomb of Ordgar may be seen, while the enormous size of his son’s tomb is regarded as a spectacle. His name was Edulf, a man of gigantic build and immense strength, as I have decided briefly to demonstrate. He was travelling towards Exeter with King Edward, to whom he was related. When they had dismounted from their horses beside the gate, they found the entrance secured with bars outside and bolts within. By chance the gatekeeper, who had not known of their arrival, since they had ridden up at an easy, familiar pace, had gone some distance away. Then Edulf seized the bars with both hands and, with what seemed little effort, smashed them to pieces, tearing away part of the wall with them. Once roused and fiercely grinding his teeth, he gave a second proof his strength. For with a kick he shattered the doors and burst open the double-leafed entrance on its hinges, even splintering the timber. While the others praised the deed, the king jokingly belittled it, attributing it not to human strength but to diabolical power.

³ There is also in Dorset a wood beside Horton, which, though now destroyed, was then numbered among the abbeys through his generosity. There he would give a display of astonishing strength whenever, laying aside his cares, he was called to recreation. A small stream runs beside the hunting ground, which is rich in game, with a distance of ten feet from one bank to the other. Standing with his legs apart, he could span both banks, and with a small knife would knock the heads from animals driven towards him into the river with light blows that seemed almost ineffectual. Yet so great and powerful a man, still burning with the vigour of his age, yielded to death and ordered himself to be buried at Horton. Nevertheless, because he had entrusted with him certain things that were to be given to the church, the violence of Abbot Sihtritius intervened first, transferring both the donor and the gifts into his own possession. Afterwards, under King William, Sihtritius took up piracy, polluting religion and bringing disgrace upon the church. As for the successive order of the bishops of Cornwall, I neither know it nor set it down, except that the episcopal see was at Saint Petroc the Confessor. The place is among the northern Britons, above the sea, beside the river called Hegelmuse. Some say that it was at Saint German, beside the River Liner, above the sea on the southern side.

Of the Bishops of Selsey. #

¹ Having reviewed all the bishoprics of West Saxony, the course of the narrative now turns to the bishops of the South Saxons. That province borders the West Saxons on one side and the Kentish people on the other, and was always subject, together with its petty kings, to the dominion of the western kings after Cedwalla defeated their king Edelwalk in battle. This Edelwalk, persuaded by King Wlfer, was baptised in Mercia and received the most blessed Wilfrid, then an exile from his own see, with kindly hospitality, and even raised him to an episcopal see at a place called Selsey, which can be approached by only one entrance and is surrounded by sea on every side. Nevertheless, when the king had been killed, as I have said, and Wilfrid, who had built a monastery there, returned home after peace was restored, the bishopric remained vacant for many years, and meanwhile its episcopal administration belonged to the Bishop of Winchester. Afterwards Archbishop Nothelm appointed Edbriht bishop there, and he was succeeded by Ella. After Ella’s death, the succession was continued by Sigelm, who attended the council of Archbishop Cuthbert; Alubriht, Bosa, Gislhere, Totta, Pehtun, Epelwlf, Bernegus, whom his consecrator Archbishop Pleigmund declared to have been a suitable man; Cenred, Gutheard, Elfred, Eadhelm, Epelgar, formerly Abbot of Winchester and afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury; Ordbriht, Elmar, Epelric, Grimkitel, who, after being expelled from the see of the East Angles which he had purchased, also acquired and occupied this one with money; Heca; and Stigand, though not the Stigand who afterwards became Bishop of Winchester and Archbishop of Canterbury. This Stigand, made bishop there by King William, transferred the see to Chichester, a city within his diocese near the sea, where in ancient times there had been both a monastery of Saint Peter and a community of nuns. He was succeeded by William, and William by Radulf, distinguished by his great height and renowned also for the force of his character. Out of regard for his priestly office, he stood up to the younger William face to face on behalf of Archbishop Anselm, whom the king was unjustly harassing. When the king, puffed up by consciousness of his power, repeated his threats, Radulf, fearing nothing, held out his staff and took off his ring so that the king might take them if he wished. Nor would he either then or afterwards have bent his severity if he had had a champion to support him. But because Anselm, by his departure, weakened both Radulf’s hope and that of any other good men, the cause failed at the time and afterwards suffered defeat. In later years he likewise displayed a religious obstinacy against the commands of King Henry, who wished to exact money from priests throughout all England. While others either consented or remained silent through fear, episcopal firmness could not be softened in Radulf alone. Throughout his whole diocese he ordered the divine offices to cease and the doors of the churches to be blocked with thorns; he did not forbid the monks from singing, but merely barred laypeople from entering. The severity of this action moved the king to exempt him alone from the payment imposed upon the priests, as though he were a man of reckless mind. Nevertheless, the man’s religious devotion and courage won him great praise in the king’s judgement, so that the king remitted everything to him. Radulf repeatedly declared that the bishopric was poor and that the church had been consumed by fire, and therefore ought not to be stripped by taxation but increased by offerings. Thus steadfast innocence made the man remarkable, so that the king, who took from others, willingly and humbly gave to him. Indeed, when an accidental fire, as I have said, destroyed the church which he had built anew, he rebuilt it in a short time chiefly through the king’s generosity. He died in a most Christian manner, after everything he possessed had been sold for the use of the poor; even as he was dying, he ordered his own pieces of cloth, down to the bedding beneath him, to be distributed before his eyes. He deservedly gained an everlasting good memory, having raised his see from a lowly and miserable state to the highest summit of glory. He gathered as large a body of clergy as the revenues of the bishopric could support and added ornaments of every kind, whose former shameful scarcity I am reluctant even to describe. Three times every year he travelled throughout his diocese for the purpose of preaching, demanding nothing from the people by episcopal authority but gratefully accepting whatever was offered. He did not spare offenders in his rebukes; and even when rebuke had little effect, he struck at their fault with good-natured wit.

Of Battle. #

¹ In his diocese there are only two monasteries newly founded. One is Saint Martin’s at Battle, which King William founded and advanced on the site where he had conquered England, assigning to it many precious gifts both during his life and at his death. The altar of the church stands on the place where the lifeless body of Harold, slain for love of his country, was found.

Of Lewes. #

¹ The other is Saint Pancras at Lewes, which, through the patronage of William, Earl of Warenne, a certain Lanzo, a Cluniac monk, established at the very summit of religious observance. The man’s effectiveness is displayed by the excellence of the place, so much so that it may truly be asserted that no monastery whatever can surpass it in religious devotion among the monks, graciousness towards guests, and charity towards all. The reality surpasses the splendour of its reputation, although the wordiness of those who recount it may weary their hearers. Certainly I would say more about Lanzo, had I not spoken of him elsewhere in terms that are by no means contemptible, and also because his merit surpasses all eloquence.