The Lives of the Saints, Volume III (of 16): March

He ended his holy life preaching peace, humility, and the love of that unity which he thought he had succeeded in establishing in the great Anglo-Keltic sanctuary, the new abbot of which, Herefrid, begged of him a last message as a legacy to his community. "Be unanimous in your counsels," the dying bishop said to him in his faint voice; "live in good accord with the other servants of Christ; despise none of the faithful who ask your hospitality; treat them with friendly familiarity, not esteeming yourself better than others, who have the same faith, and often the same life. But have no communion with those who withdraw from the unity of Catholic peace, either by the illegal celebration of Easter, or by practical ill-doing. Remember always, if you must make a choice, that I infinitely prefer that you should leave this place, carrying my bones with you, rather than that you should remain here bent under the yoke of wicked heresy. Learn, and observe with diligence, the Catholic decrees of the fathers, and also the rules of monastic life which God has deigned to give you by my hands. I know that many have despised me in my life, but after my death you will see that my doctrine has not been despicable."

This effort was the last. He lost the power of speech, received the last sacraments in silence, and died raising his eyes and arms to heaven, at the hour when it was usual to sing matins, in the night of the 20th of March, 687. One of his attendants immediately mounted to the summit of the rock, where the lighthouse is now placed, and gave to the monks of Lindisfarne, by waving a lighted torch, the signal agreed upon to announce the death of the greatest saint who has given glory to that famous isle. He was but fifty, and had worn the monastic habit for thirty-five years.

Among many friends, he had one who was at once his oldest and most beloved, a priest called Herbert, who lived as an anchorite in an island of Lake Derwentwater. Every year Herbert came from his peaceful lake to visit his friend in the other island, beaten and undermined continually by the great waves of the Northern Sea; and upon that wild rock, to the accompaniment of winds and waves, they passed several days together, in a tender solitude and intimacy, talking of the life to come. When Cuthbert, then a bishop, came for the last time to Carlisle, Herbert seized the opportunity, and hastened to refresh himself at that fountain of eternal benefits which flowed for him from the holy and tender heart of his friend. "My brother," the bishop said to him, "thou must ask me now all that thou wantest to know, for we shall never meet again in this world." At these words Herbert fell at his feet in tears. "I conjure thee," he cried, "do not leave me on this earth behind thee; remember my faithful friendship, and pray God that, after having served Him together in this world, we may pass into His glory together." Cuthbert threw himself on his knees at his friend's side, and after praying for some minutes, said to him, "Rise, my brother, and weep no more; God has granted to us that which we have both asked from Him." And, in fact, though they never saw each other again here below, they died on the same day and at the same hour; the one in his isle bathed by the peaceful waters of a solitary lake, the other upon his granite rock, fringed by the ocean foam; and their souls, says Bede, reunited by that blessed death, were carried together by the angels into the eternal kingdom. This coincidence deeply touched the Christians of Northumbria, and was long engraven in their memory. Seven centuries later, in 1374, the bishop of Carlisle appointed that a mass should be said on the anniversary of the two saints, in the island where the Cumbrian anchorite died, and granted an indulgence of forty days to all who crossed the water to pray there in honour of the two friends.

After many translations, the body of S. Cuthbert found repose in Durham cathedral, where it rested in a magnificent shrine till the reign of Henry VIII., when the royal commissioners visited the cathedral with the purpose of demolishing all shrines. The following is a condensed account of this horrible profanation, given by a writer of the period, or shortly after67: —

"The sacred shrine of holy S. Cuthbert was defaced at the visitation held at Durham, by Dr. Lee, Dr. Henly, and Mr. Blithman. They found many valuable jewels. After the spoil of his ornaments, they approached near to his body, expecting nothing but dust and ashes; but perceiving the chest he lay in strongly bound with iron, the goldsmith, with a smith's great forge hammer, broke it open, when they found him lying whole, uncorrupt, with his face bare, and his beard as of a fortnight's growth, and all the vestments about him, as he was accustomed to say mass. When the goldsmith perceived he had broken one of his legs in breaking open the chest, he was sore troubled at it, and cried, 'Alas! I have broken one of his legs'; which Dr. Henly hearing, called to him, and bade him cast down his bones. The other answered, he could not get them asunder, for the sinews and skin held them so that they would not separate. Then Dr. Lee stept up to see if it were so, and turning about, spake in Latin to Dr. Henly that he was entire, though Dr. Henly, not believing his words, called again to have his bones cast down. Dr. Lee answered, 'If you will not believe me, come up yourself and see him.' Then Dr. Henly stept up to him, and handled him, and found he lay whole; then he commanded them to take him down, and so it happened, that not only his body was whole and uncorrupted, but the vestments wherein his body lay, and wherein he was accustomed to say mass, were fresh, safe, and not consumed. Whereupon the visitors commanded him to be carried into the revestry, till the king's pleasure concerning him was further known; and upon the receipt thereof, the prior and monks buried him in the ground under the place where his shrine was exalted."

Harpsfield, who flourished at the time, and who was a most faithful and zealous Catholic, gives a similar account; he, however, does not say that the leg bone was broken, but that the flesh was wounded; and that the body was entire except that "the prominent part of the nose, I know not why, was wanting." And he adds that, "a grave was made in the ground, in that very spot previously occupied by his precious shrine, and there the body was deposited. And not only his body, but even the vestments in which it was clothed, were perfectly entire, and free from all taint and decay. There was upon his finger a ring of gold, ornamented with a sapphire, which I myself once saw and handled and kissed. There were present, among others, when this sacred body was exposed to daylight, Doctor Whithead, the president of the monastery, Dr. Sparke, Dr. Tod, and William Wilam, the keeper of the sacred shrine. And thus it is abundantly manifest, that the body of S. Cuthbert remained inviolate and uncontaminated eight hundred and forty years."

In May, 1827, the place which these and other authorities had indicated as that where the body of S. Cuthbert was buried, was very carefully examined, and the coffin and a body were exhumed. The Anglo-Saxon sculpture, and everything about and within this coffin, left no doubt that what was discovered was the ancient coffin, the vestments, and relics which had accompanied the body of S. Cuthbert. But the body by no means agreed with the minute accounts of S. Cuthbert. There was evidence that it had not been uncorrupt when buried, and there was no trace of any injury done to the leg-bone. Hence it is difficult not to conclude that the garments and shrine were those of Cuthbert, but that the body was not his, but was one which had been substituted for it. And when we remember that the incorrupt body was left in the vestry under the charge of the prior and monks till the king's pleasure could be ascertained as to what was to be done with it, there can be little doubt that they who so highly valued this sacred treasure substituted for it another body, which they laid in the pontifical vestments of Cuthbert, which was buried as his in his coffin. Where the prior and monks concealed the holy relics, if this conjecture prove true, it is impossible to state. That there is ground for this conjecture may be concluded from the existence of a tradition to this effect, and it is said that the true place of the interment of the saint is only known to three members of the Benedictine Order, who, as each one dies, choose a successor. Another line of tradition is said to descend through the Vicars Apostolic, now Roman Catholic bishops of the district. This is the belief to which reference is made in Marmion.

The supposed place of interment indicated by the secular tradition, (under the stairs of the bell-tower), has been carefully examined. No remains were found, and it is evident that the ground had never been disturbed since the construction of the tower.68 There can be no question as to the genuineness of all the articles found in the tomb, for they exactly agree with accounts of the things contained in the shrine, described by pre-reformation writers; but the genuineness of the body is more than questionable. Mr. Raine, who was present at the investigation, and has written an account of it, "S. Cuthbert; with an Account of the State in which his Remains were found upon the Opening of his Tomb in Durham Cathedral, in the year 1827," Durham 1828, endeavours to establish their identity by repudiating as absurd the account of the contemporary writers who assert that the body was uncorrupt, and of the breaking of the leg-bone, though he accepts all their other statements.

S. WULFRAM, B. OF SENS(A.D. 741.)

[Gallican and Roman Martyrologies. Also those of Usuardus and Wyon. Authority: – A life written by a contemporary, Jonas, a monk of the same abbey of Fontenelle to which S. Wulfram retired, of this there are several editions, some much interpolated. Some of these additions are gross errors. According to the life which Surius publishes, Jonas dedicated it to his abbot Bainus. But Bainus died seven years after Wulfram had undertaken his mission. Possibly Bainus is an error of the copyist for Wando, who translated the body of S. Wulfram in 742. In the prologue, moreover, Owen, or Ovus, the lad whom S. Wulfram had resuscitated after he had been hung, is quoted as the authority for much of what the bishop did in Friesland, Owen being then priest in the abbey of Fontenelle. This indicates the date of the life as being about the time of the translation.]

Wulfram was born at Milly, three leagues from Fontainebleau, of a noble and wealthy family. His father, whose name was Fulbert, was held in great esteem by Dagobert I. and Clovis II. on account of the signal services he had rendered them in their wars. Although brought up, and constantly engaged in the camp, Fulbert took care that his son should receive an excellent education in letters; and as Wulfram exhibited a marked partiality for the clerical over the secular life, he suffered him to take holy orders. Wulfram was not, however, allowed to follow the bent of his wishes in every particular, for notwithstanding his desire to live a quiet secluded life of study, he was called in 670 to serve God in the court of Clothaire III. and Thierry III., kings of the Franks, till the death of his father. About the same time, Lambert, bishop of Sens, having died, Wulfram was unanimously elected to fill his room, by clergy and people, and the royal consent having been obtained, he was consecrated to the see of Sens, in 693. But "the Spirit breatheth where He wills, and thou canst not tell whence He cometh and whither He goeth." Moved by a divine call which could not be gainsaid, after having occupied the see for only two years and a half, Wulfram abdicted his charge in 685, probably moved by religious scruples as to the canonicity of his appointment, for S. Amæus, the rightful bishop of Sens, in the banishment to which he was sent by Thierry III. in 674, had survived the appointment of Lambert. Wulfram, freed from his charge, at once undertook a mission to Friesland. He conferred on his design with S. Ansbert, then archbishop of Rouen, after having been abbot of S. Vandrille.69 By his advice he retired for a while into that abbey of Fontenelle to prepare for his apostolate to the Frisians, in solitude, with prayer. After awhile he came forth refreshed, and having divested himself of his property at Milly, his native place, which he gave to the abbey of S. Vandrille, that he might go unimpeded into the battle; and having obtained from the abbot, Hilbert, some monks to accompany him and assist him in his mission, he embarked at Caudebec, in 700, spread the white sail to the breeze, and flew out into the sea.

"To the ship's bow he ascended,By his choristers attended,Round him were the tapers lighted,And the sacred incense rose."On the bow stood bishop Wulfram,In his robes, as one transfigured,And the crucifix he plantedHigh amid the rain and mist."Then with holy water sprinkledAll the ship; the mass-bells tinkled;Loud the monks around him chanted,Loud he read the Evangelist."70

But as the deacon was wiping the paten, during mass, it slipped from his fingers, and glanced down through a green wave and was lost. Then he uttered a cry of dismay, for they had no other paten with them in the vessel. But Wulfram turning himself about from the altar in the ship's-bows, bade him thrust his hand over the side into the water. And he did so, nothing doubting, and brought up the paten, dripping with sea-water. This paten was preserved in the monastery of S. Vandrille till the year 1621, when it was stolen.

Now when they had come into Friesland, Wulfram went before the king, Radbod, and preached boldly to him the Word of God. The king listened, and allowed the missionaries to settle in the land, and to declare the Gospel of the Kingdom to his subjects, but he himself put off giving attention to what they taught till a more convenient season. And as Wulfram dwelt in the land, and saw it wholly given up to the worship of false gods, and to the performance of cruel sacrifices, his spirit was stirred within him, and he denounced the hideous offerings of children made to the false gods. It was then the custom among the Frisians to offer to Wodin their sons, by hanging them on gibbets. This method of sacrifice was common to all the Scandinavian and Teutonic peoples. One horrible instance is related, for instance, in one of the old Norse Sagas, of a mother thus sacrificing her child to Wodin to obtain from him the secret of brewing better ale than the second wife of her husband, in order that she might thus be able to attach him to herself more closely.

Wulfram preached in vain, king Radbod replied to all his remonstrances that it was the custom of the country, and that he could not, or would not alter it. And this was the way in which the victims were chosen. Lots were cast on the children of the nobles, and those who were taken, were hung on a tree or gibbet, to Wodin, or else were fastened to a post between tides, and left to drown with the rising flood, as an offering to Ran, the sea-goddess, to stay her from bringing her waves over the low, flat land, and submerging it.

Hearing that a child was about to be hung, Wulfram hasted to the spot, but was unable to prevent the perpetration of the sacrifice. Then after the boy had been hanging two hours, the rope broke, and the bishop casting himself on the body, cried to the Lord, and He heard his voice, and the child revived, and the bishop restored him to his parents.71 And on another occasion, he was present when two youths, sons of a widow, were being sacrificed to the sea. He saw the poor lads waiting on the wet sand, and shrieking with fear as the waves tumbled at every instant nearer to them, whilst all the people looked on, shouting to drown their cries, upon the dyke. Then Wulfram, unable to endure the spectacle, knelt down, and covered his eyes, and prayed. And when he looked up, he saw the sea was washing around the youths, but had not touched them. So he prayed more fervently, and the people standing on the dyke shouted, to drown the shrieks of the young men; and Wulfram looked, and they were up to their chins in water, battling with the angry waves. Then Radbod called to the bishop and said, "See! there be the youths, go, save them if thou canst." Then Wulfram rose, and made the sign of the cross, and cast his mantle from him, and went boldly down to the sea, and walked thereon without fear, trusting in the Lord, and he took the two children, one by each hand, and he came to the land leading them, with foot unwet.

Then the people were filled with wonder, and a great fear fell upon them, and many renounced their false gods, and came and submitted their necks to the sweet yoke of Christ. King Radbod also, convinced against his will, consented to receive baptism. But as he was stepping down into the water, he suddenly halted, with one foot in the stream, and asked, "Where are my ancestors, are they in the heaven thou promisest to me?"

"Be not deceived," answered Wulfram, "God knoweth the number of His elect. Thy ancestors have died without baptism, therefore they have certainly received the sentence of damnation." It was an injudicious answer. It is by no means certain that those who have not had an opportunity of knowing the truth, but have lived up to the light God has given them, are eternally lost. The result of this harsh answer was, that Radbod withdrew his foot from the water, saying, "I will go to hell with my ancestors, rather than be in heaven without them." It is only just to remark that this story is not to be found in the most correct and ancient copies of the life by Jonas of Fontenelle.

After about twenty years of labour in Friesland, his health failed, and he returned in haste to Fontenelle, to die amongst the brethren in the peace of a cloister. He died on March 20th, in the year 720. Nine years after, Wando, abbot of Fontenelle, took the body from its grave, and translated to the church of S. Peter. In 1058, it was taken to Notre Dame at Abbeville, and this church in course of years, assumed the name of S. Wulfram. The sacred relics remain there, enclosed in a rich shrine. An annual procession is made on this day at Abbeville with the shrine.

SS. TWENTY MONKS, MM. AT S. SABAS(A.D. 797.)

[Commemorated by the Greeks. Authority: – The Acts by S. Stephen of S. Sabas, an eye-witness of what he relates. The account in the Greek Menology is full of inaccuracies, which proves that the compiler of it had not seen the Acts, but wrote his account from tradition.]

The laura of S. Sabas between Jerusalem and Bethlehem stood in a situation exposed to hostile attack. In the invasion of Palestine by Chosroes, the monastery did not escape, but yielded up sixty martyrs to God. In 797, twenty more perished in an incursion of the Arabs. The account of this latter catastrophe, written by Stephen, a monk of that monastery, at the time, and one of those who escaped, is full of interest. It is far too long to be inserted here. We have only space for a brief outline of the events. The Arabs had been devastating the whole country for some time past, and news of the ruin of the laura of S. Charito had reached the monks of the laura of S. Sabas. A laura is a collection of separate cells, of caves, or huts, the monks assembling only in the church; whereas a monastery consists of one or more large buildings, in which the monks live in community. On hearing of the pillage of the laura of S. Charito, the brethren assembled in the church to pray God to deliver them from a like infliction, or should He deem expedient to send it upon them, to strengthen them to meet it manfully. As they were in prayer, a brother who was on the look-out, came running to tell that he saw a party of some sixty Arabs, armed with lances and bows, galloping over a sand hill in the direction of the laura. It was the 13th of March, and the second hour of the morning. Then there went forth a deputation of the monks to meet the marauders, and to beseech them to spare the defenceless brethren. But they were greeted with shouts of derision, and were driven before the arrows and stones of the robbers back into the church, some of their number mortally wounded, and in all, thirty were wounded. The physician Thomas extracted the arrows and bound up their wounds, as they were brought in. But he had little space for attending to them, before the Arabs came into the laura, and gathering thorns into bundles, piled them about the cells and set fire to them. They were preparing to do the same to the church, when an alarm was given that succour to the monks was at hand, and in an instant the Arabs had vanished over the sand hills.

Throughout the following week the monks were kept in incessant alarm and expectation of a renewed attack. Messengers came to them from the old Laura, to warn them that a band of ruffians had attacked it and was on its way to the Laura of S. Sabas. The news reached them on Saturday night late, as they were keeping the vigil of the Lord's day in the Church. Their terror and anxiety was greatly increased somewhat later, when an old white-haired monk arrived from the monastery of S. Euthymius, bearing a letter from the abbot, to tell them that a second party of Arabs was on its way to attack them. A bright full moon was in the sky, shining in at the church windows, and by its light the frightened monks deciphered the epistle. Some fled over the desert, vainly seeking hiding places; some retired to their cells, some remained praying in the Church. Here occurs a great gap in the history, a whole sheet of the MS. is lost, and we next hear of the Arabs driving the flying monks before them with bow, and spear, and club, towards the church, scouring the desert around and catching the runaways, penetrating into the cells, and dragging them forth.

John, the guest-master, was found among some rocks, the barbarians pelted him with stones, then ham-strung him, and dragged him down the rocks by his feet to the church, till, mangled and bleeding, he fainted. Sergius, the sacristan, had concealed the sacred vessels, and had sought refuge in flight, but was caught, and because he refused to surrender the holy vessels, was hacked to pieces by the barbarians. A number of the monks had secreted themselves in a cave. The Arabs ran into it, thrusting their swords and spears into every corner, and one of the monks, a young man, named Patricius, resolved to sacrifice himself to save the others. He, therefore, cried out that he would surrender, and, coming forth, delivered himself up. The robbers, supposing he was the only one there concealed, left the others unmolested. He was one of those who were afterwards suffocated.

Now there was a winding cave under the guest-house, which was used for various purposes. Into this a number of monks were driven, and they were threatened with death unless they would ransom their lives by surrendering the Eucharistic vessels and vestments. This they refused to do. Then the Arabs bade them point out which were the heads of the community. They replied, with truth, that the abbot was now absent, he having gone away on some business a few weeks before. Then they insisted on the physician being indicated to them, for they had an idea that he was possessed of money. Again the monks refused to declare which of them was physician. Then the Arabs thrust them all into the cave, and choking up the entrance with thorns and grass, set fire to it. And when there had been a blaze and smoke for some little while, they shouted to the monks within to come forth; so the unfortunate men came through the blaze and over the red coals, and fell panting for breath on the ground. Their hair, beards, eyelashes, and their garments were burnt, and their faces were discoloured with smoke. The Arabs again bade them deliver up their superiors, and as they again refused, they drove them back through the flames into the cave, and heaped on more fuel, and kept up the blaze, till all within had been suffocated. Then they dispersed themselves over the Laura, and entered every cell, and took from them all that they wanted, and laded the camels belonging to the monks with the spoil that they had found, and departed.

And after many hours, the brethren who had escaped came forth from their places of concealment, and sought water and food to satisfy their appetites; and they scattered the embers of the great fire, and as the smoke rolled forth from the cavern, and a pure air entered, they lighted tapers and went in, at the setting of the sun, and found all the fathers therein dead, with their faces to the ground, and in various attitudes, some as though creeping into a corner in quest of air. And they made great lamentation over them, and drew them forth and washed them, and buried them with reverence.