Alcuin finally leaves England.—The Adoptionist heresy.—Alcuin’s
retirement to Tours.—His knowledge of secrets.—Karl and the
three kings his sons.—Fire at St. Martin’s, Tours.—References
to the life of St. Martin.—Alcuin’s writings.—His interview
with the devil.—His last days.
At length Alcuin felt that he ought not, without the authority of his
own king and bishop, to desert the place in which he had been educated,
tonsured, and ordained deacon. He asked leave of the great king to return
to his fatherland. Karl received his request in a flattering manner. We
may suppose that Alcuin retained an accurate recollection of the pleasant
words and of his own answer, and reported them eventually to Sigulf,
probably with a feeling that he had made a Yorkshire rejoinder to the
king’s rather pointed balance-sheet. On a formal occasion such as this,
they probably addressed each other as scholars, in the Latin tongue, so
that in reading the Life we seem to hear them speaking the actual words
reported. The manner of address we may take to be correctly represented.
“_Karl._ Illustrious master,—of earthly riches we have enough, wherewith
it is our joy to honour thee. With thy riches, long desired by us and
scarce anywhere found, we pray thee illumine us in the wealth of thy
piety.
“_Alcuin._ My lord king,—I am not inclined to oppose thy will, when it
shall have been confirmed by the authority of the canons. Endowed in my
paternal country with no small heritage, I am delighted to fling it away
and stand here a pauper, so that I may be of use to thee. Thy part is
only this,—to obtain for me the permission of my own king and bishop.”
Karl was at last persuaded to let him go; but he was not satisfied until
it was settled that when Alcuin came back again he would stay with him
always.
Some years after he came back to Karl a second time, he was placed at
the head of the Monastery of St. Martin of Tours. In a godly manner he
ruled this with his other monasteries. He corrected the lives of those
under him as far as he could. Some were untamed when they came under his
rule, but he so bestirred himself that they became reasonable, of honest
morals, and seekers after truth. That is the author’s statement. We shall
hear more on the subject in the course of our study.
“Meantime the heresy hateful to God, which flourished in the parts of
Spain, asserting that the Son of God is adoptive according to the flesh,
is brought to the ears of Karl. The great king, in all things catholic,
looked into this, and strove with all his might that the seed of the
devil should be destroyed, and the tares completely eradicated from the
wheat of God. Summoning to him Albinus his instructor from Tours, and the
wretched Felix the constructor of this heresy from the parts of Spain,
he collected a great synod of bishops in the imperial palace of Aix.
Seated himself in the midst, he ordered Felix, who was most unwilling,
to dispute in argument with the most learned Albinus on the nature of
the Son of God according to the flesh. What silence reigned among the
bishops! How clear and unanswerable, with the authority of Karl, was
the master’s confession and defence of the faith! Felix tried to hide
himself in all sorts of obscurities; Albinus pierced him with more and
more darts, at such length that he ‘went through almost all the cities of
Israel[34] till the Son of Man should come’. Little else was done from
the second to the seventh day of the week. At length his stupidity was
laid bare to all. The heresy was confuted by the whole of the bishops
with apostolic authority. To himself alone his folly was foully hidden,
up to the point when he read with lamentable voice the words of Cyril the
martyr, turned against him by Albinus: That nature which was corrupted
by the devil is exalted above the angels by the triumph of Christ, and
is set down at the right hand of the Father. When he read this sentence,
he at last testified by voice and by excessive weeping that he had
found himself out, that he had acted impiously. Any one who thirsts to
know this more perfectly should read the master’s letters to Felix and
Elipantus, and theirs to him. He will then at once learn what he desires
to know.
“By permission of Christ,” the biographer continues, “I have up to this
point written a little about the early part of the Life of Albinus, facts
that I have supposed to be not known to all. I have not thought of
inserting in this little work facts about him which all know. From this
point I shall attempt to trace to his last days my shaken reed of a pen,
though it be with contemptible roughness.
“When he felt himself affected by old age, and increasingly by one
infirmity,[35] he informed King Karl that he wished to retire from the
world, as he had long had it in mind to do. He asked leave to live
the monastic life, in accordance with the Rule of St. Benedict, at
St. Boniface of Fulda,[36] and to distribute among his disciples the
monasteries which had been granted to him, if that might be done. But the
king, terrible and pious, with all regard for Alcuin’s request, denied
the one part, while he received the other gladly. He begged that he
would reside at Tours, in perfect quiet and in the greatest honour, and
would not refuse to continue the spiritual care of Karl himself and of
all the holy Church committed to him; the secular burdens which he had
borne, the king, at his request, most willingly portioned out among his
disciples. Albinus acted as the most wise king had asked, seeking what
would be useful, not to himself but to many; and at Tours he awaited his
last day. His manner of life was not inferior to the monastic life which
he had desired. He abounded in fastings, in prayers, in mortification of
the flesh, in almsgivings, in much celebration of psalms and masses,[37]
and in the other virtues with which it is possible for human nature to
be adorned. When he had fasted till evening, there very frequently was
sent from heaven to his mouth such sweetness as no human speech could
utter; whatever he then willed, he could dictate most rapidly without
any effort, so that he could say,—I have loved, Lord, Thy commandments
above gold and precious stone; how sweet are thy words unto my mouth,
yea, sweeter than honey and the honeycomb. In his youth he had not loved
the study of the Psalms so much as another kind of reading; in his old
age he could never have too much of them. As has been described in the
case of his master,[38] he poured forth most secret prayer during the
day, with long extension of his hands in the form of a cross, and with
much groaning, for he very rarely found tears. This practice he passed
on to his disciples, of whom the most noble was Sigulf, ‘the little old
fellow,’ and the magnanimous Withso[39]; after them, Fredegisus[40]
and his companions. In his latest days there clung to him assiduously
Raganard and Waldramn, who still survive; Adalbert of blessed memory,
who was with him as much as he could, being at that time the son of
Sigulf, afterwards a venerated father as Abbat of Ferrières; and many
others, the names of all of whom I trust that Christ knows. These with
all circumspection earnestly studied to do nothing in his presence with
which he could find fault, and very often in his absence too. For they
knew that he was in close communion with God, and was enlightened by His
Spirit; and though with his bodily eyes he could no longer see clearly,
from old age and infirmity, they feared that nothing which they did
escaped his knowledge.
“Filled as he was with the Spirit, he foretold to some their future, as
he did to Raganard about Osulf.[41] This Raganard had in his sleep a
horrible vision, which it is better not to describe. He told it the next
day to the father, in fear lest it referred to himself. The father knew
that it referred not to Raganard but to Osulf. With great grief he spoke
thus: ‘O Osulf, thou wretched one, how oft have I warned thee, how oft
corrected! Much labour did I devote to thine uncle, that he should reform
and begin to walk in the way of the commandments of God; and I told him
that if he did not he would be smitten with the plague of leprosy; which
thing happened to him. And to thee, my son, I predict of Osulf, of whom
is this vision, that neither in this land, nor in the land of his birth,
shall he die.’ The prediction was true; he died in Lombardy.
“This same Raganard, unknown to everybody, tried himself by vigils of
too long duration and by an excess of abstinence; by this intemperance
he fell into a most dangerous fever. Father Albinus came to visit him,
and sent out of the house all except Sigulf. Then he rebuked Raganard
thus: ‘Why hast thou tried to act so intemperately, without advice of
any? I knew that thou didst wish to act thus, and therefore it was that
I ordered thee to sleep in the dwelling in which I sleep. But thou didst
immediately, when all were asleep, secretly light a candle, conceal it
in a lantern, and going to that place didst watch through the whole
night.’ And then all that he did there secretly, known to God alone, he
told him of, and added:—‘When thou didst go with me to the refectory,
and I bade thee drink wine, in the most crafty way thou didst say—I have
drunk sufficiently, my lord father, with my uncle. But when thou didst
come to thy uncle, and he too bade thee drink wine, thou didst say thou
hadst drunk with me. Thy will was to delude us, and thou art deceived.
When thou hast risen up from the fever, take thou care never to attempt
anything of this kind again.’
“When Raganard heard this, he turned red, and was in great fear, knowing
that he was caught. In wonder that his secret deeds could not escape the
knowledge of Albinus, he asked how was this made known. To this day he
bears witness that no man knew it before it was revealed; God alone. He
repented, and for the rest of Alcuin’s life he never attempted anything
of the kind without his advice and command.
“It very often happened that when messengers were coming to Alcuin from
the king and other friends, while they were yet a long way off, he would
tell of their coming and of the cause of their coming, what they brought
with them, what they wished to take back. Certain disciples, when they
heard him speak thus, set it down to the folly of an old man, till it
was proved to be true. Benedict[42], the man of the Lord, who beyond
all monks was bound in intimacy with Alcuin, used often to come to him
from the parts of Gothia, to obtain advice for himself and his monks.
On one occasion Benedict wished to come secretly, unknown to any one at
Tours, so that Alcuin should not know till he stood in the doorway. When
he was by no means near Tours, Albinus summoned an attendant, and said
to him, ‘Hasten to meet Benedict in such and such a place, and tell him
to come to me quickly.’ The messenger did as he was told, and on the
third day arrived at the place, found Benedict there, and delivered his
message. Astonished that his plan was discovered, Benedict went with all
haste to Tours. When they had joyously kissed one another, Benedict,
the reverend father, began suppliantly, ‘Lord father, who foretold
to thee my arrival?’ He answered, ‘No man told me by word of mouth.’
Benedict asked again, ‘Who then, my lord? Perhaps thou hast heard in a
letter from some one?’ He replied, ‘Of a truth, not in a letter.’ Again
Benedict asked, ‘If neither from the words of any man, nor from any man’s
letter, thou knewest this beforehand, pray, my father, in what way didst
thou know it?—tell me.’ Albinus said, ‘Do not interrogate me further
on this.’ There the matter ended. When the venerable man Benedict was
minded to return, he asked Albinus to tell him in what special words
he prayed, when he prayed for himself. Albinus said, ‘This is what I
ask of Christ:—Lord, grant me to understand my sins, and to make true
confession, and to do fitting penance; and grant unto me remission of
my sins.’ The godly man Benedict said, ‘Let us add, my father, to this
thy prayer, one word, namely this, after remission, save me.’ Albinus
rejoiced, and said, ‘Let it be so, most reverent son, let it be so.’
Benedict then asked another question, would he tell him what were the
words that silently moved his lips when he saw the Cross and bent before
it? Albinus answered, ‘Thy Cross we adore, O Lord; Thy glorious Passion
we recall. Have mercy on us, Thou Who didst die for us.’ Albinus then saw
him on his way for a short distance, and sent him back rejoicing to his
own place and people.”
The biographer next sets before us a remarkable picture of the four most
important personages of the time.
“The great king and powerful emperor Karl, wishing to offer prayer and
to have some mutually desired conversation with Alcuin, paid a visit to
the tomb of the holy Martin at Tours, with his sons Charles, Pepin, and
Louis. The emperor took Alcuin by the hand, and said to him privately,
‘My lord master, which of these sons of mine does it seem to thee that
I shall have as my successor in this honour to which God has raised me,
all unworthy?’ Alcuin turned his face towards Louis, the youngest of the
three, and the most remarkable for his humility, on account of which he
was regarded by many as of little account, and said, ‘In the humble Louis
thou shalt have an illustrious successor.’ The emperor alone heard what
he said. But when, later on, sitting on the spot where he wished to be
buried, Alcuin saw these same three kings[43] enter the Church of St.
Stephen for prayer, with head erect, and Louis with head bent, he said
to those who stood by—‘Do you see that Louis is more humble than his
brothers? You will most certainly see him the most exalted successor of
his father.’ When with his own hand he administered to them the Communion
of the Body of Christ and the Blood, the same Louis, most noted above
all for humility, bent before the holy father and kissed his hand.[44]
The man of the Lord said to Sigulf who stood by, ‘Whosoever exalteth
himself shall be abased, and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted.
Certainly the Frankish land shall rejoice to have this man emperor after
his father.’ That this has taken place, the biographer adds, we both see
and rejoice.[45] They who seemed to be cedars are cast down, and the
fruitful olive tree in the house of God is exalted.[46]
“The father Alcuin had with great care instructed Karl in liberal arts
and in divine scripture, so that he became the most learned of all kings
of the Franks who have been since the coming of Christ. He taught him,
also, which of the Psalms he should sing throughout his whole life for
various occasions; for times of penitence, with litany and entreaties
and prayers; for times of special prayer; of praising God; of any
tribulation; and for his being moved to exercise himself in divine
praise. Any one who wishes to know all this may read it in the little
book which he wrote to Karl on the principles of prayer.”[47]
At this point in his narrative the biographer relates the scrape into
which “the little old fellow” got in connexion with his secret study of
Vergil, already described on page 2. As a further instance of Alcuin’s
remarkable knowledge of what was going on, he adds the interesting
little story about a present of wine to Cormery which will be found on
p. 223. Then comes the following amusing account, with its revelation of
a dislike of Karl’s favourites the foreigners, a dislike which Eginhard
thus frankly reports in his vivid picture of the great King,[48] “He
loved foreigners, and took great pains to attract them to him and to
maintain them, so much so that the multitude of them not unreasonably
seemed a heavy burden, not to the palace only but to the kingdom. His
greatness of mind, however, was such, that he was not troubled by a
burden of this kind; indeed even great inconveniences he regarded as
compensated by the praise won by liberality and by the reward of good
report.”
This is the story. The presbyter Aigulf[49], an Anglo-Saxon[50] himself
too, came to Tours to visit the father. When he was standing at the
door of Alcuin’s dwelling, there happened to be four of the brethren of
Tours talking together. When they saw him, they said one to another, not
imagining that he knew anything of their language, “Here’s a Briton, or
a Scot[51], come to see that other Briton inside. O God, deliver this
monastery from these Britons! Like bees coming back to the mother-bee,
these all come to this man of ours!” What would we not give to have this
in the words in which they spoke it, instead of in the author’s Latin.
The presbyter went into Alcuin’s dwelling, and, after other matters,
told him what he had heard. “Do you know which they are?” Alcuin asked.
“Indeed I do not. I could not for shame look at them when they said
that.” Alcuin said, “I am sure I know who they are.” He called in some
of the brethren by name, and said, “These are they.” Greatly grieved by
their folly, Alcuin yet spared them, saying, “May Christ, the Son of God,
spare them.” Then he gave them each a cup of wine to drink, and without
severity sent them away. Aigulf afterwards made diligent inquiry, and
found that they were the right men. We of to-day may remark that Alcuin
evidently knew the characters of his pupils; but his ideas of discipline
differed from ours. We should not have let them know that we had heard
personal remarks of that kind; and we should not have given them glasses
of wine. We may remember the words of Archbishop Temple to Bishop
Creighton, when the Bishop had received the late Mr. John Kensit for an
interview at Fulham, and had given him tea. “It was all right to receive
the man; but you shouldn’t ha’ given him tea.”
As we have seen, the biographer on the whole confines himself to those
parts of Alcuin’s Life which were not of common knowledge. But there
was one story of sufficient importance in his judgement to be related
at length, although it was well known. We may well take the same view,
and be grateful to our author for having departed from his self-imposed
limitations.
“I ought not”, he writes, “to pass over in silence one fact which many
know. The Keeper of the Sepulchre of St. Martin, who provided the wax
and all the vestments which pertained to the basilica itself, entering
with a lighted candle the sacristy where they were kept, fixed the candle
on a spike, and when he left he forgot to take it with him. He locked
the door and went away. The burning candle fell upon some wax and sent a
great flame which set fire to the vestments hanging on the pegs; and the
vestments sent the flame up to the roof.[52] When the warden saw this,
he fled with the key to another monastery.[53] People rushed from all
sides; they beat at the door, but all their efforts failed to burst it
open. The clerks threw out of the windows any valuables they had in their
abode. The Church of St. Martin was denuded of some vestments, and no one
expected anything but the burning of the whole monastery. The roof was
all stripped of lead. Albinus came; he was now blind. He asked what was
being done. One of his disciples, his ‘little old fellow’, said, ‘Come
away, father, or you will be killed by the lead they are throwing down or
burned to death.’ When Albinus was willing to go, Vetulus said to him,
‘My lord father, go to the sepulchre of the lord Martin, and intercede
for us.’ Albinus did as was suggested, and when he got to the place,
he stretched himself on the ground in the form of a cross, and uttered
groans heavenward. As soon as Albinus cast himself on the ground, in some
wonderful and incredible way the whole fire was put out, as completely as
if extinguished by a great river. When the clerks saw this, they rushed
in joyous stupefaction to the spot where Albinus lay prostrate before the
sepulchre of St. Martin, in the form of a cross, praying to God for them.
They raised him from the ground, blessing God who through the prayers of
Albinus had saved the whole monastery of Saint Martin from being consumed
by fire. These be thy worthy examples, holy Martin, who once when thou
wouldest escape the fire couldest not; turned to God in prayer thou hast
extinguished this fire that threatened us. Lofty of a truth is the faith
that by its ardour can extinguish globes of fire. Nor is it a matter of
wonder that the elements leave their proper force at the prayers and
commands of Albinus, since he rests in the heart of Him who loves them
that love Him, and permits them not to be singed by the flame when they
walk in fire. Thee in these we adore, Thee we glorify, Thee we laud,
who, as Thou hast deigned to make promises to Thy servants who keep Thy
commandments, hast shown them forth most clearly by Thy works in Thine
own Albinus. Thou hast said, O Christ Jesus, whatsoever ye shall ask of
Me in My name, that will I do, that the Father may be glorified in the
Son.”
It will have been noticed that this passage from the Life attributes to
St. Martin a failure to prevent the progress of a fire. The reference
appears at first sight to be to the eleventh chapter of the _Life of St.
Martin_ by Sulpicius Severus[54], written some four hundred years before
the fire here described, and published in the lifetime of St. Martin,
whom Severus had visited at Tours for the special purpose of learning the
facts of his life.
“In a certain town, Martin set fire to a very ancient and famous pagan
shrine. A house was attached to the walls of the temple, and the wind
blew the globes of fire on to this house. When Martin saw this, he
climbed rapidly to the roof of the house, and faced the flames. Then you
would see the flame turn back in a marvellous manner against the force of
the wind, the two elements fighting the one against the other. Thus by
the virtue of Martin the fire operated only where it was bidden.”
This is the only account in the _Life of St. Martin_ to which the remark
in the text could apply. But, as a matter of fact, the occasion referred
to was quite different from this. The little story is an interesting
example of the keenness of criticism in those very early times, and of
the need of immediate corrections.
The contemporary readers of the Life were well aware of the fact that
Martin himself was once half-burned. Knowing this, they fastened on the
passage quoted, and spoke in a depreciatory way of Martin. They asked how
could he be so great as to prevent houses being burned, if he was not
great enough to prevent himself from being set on fire and nearly burned
to death. These depreciatory remarks came to the ears of Sulpicius, and
the very next day[55], he sat down and wrote a letter to the presbyter
Eusebius, to tell the actual facts of the other story with which
unfavourable comparison has been made. The facts were as follows:—
The saint was visiting his diocese in midwinter. A bed had been prepared
for him in a vestry, which was warmed by a fire below the floor. The
pavement was rough and dilapidated. They had made for the saint a
specially soft and comfortable bed of straw, but his practice was to
sleep on the bare ground. Not being able to endure the blandient comfort
of the straw, he threw it away and slept on the ground. By midnight the
fire below had got at the straw through the crevices in the pavement,
and Martin awoke to find the vestry full of fire. Then came, as he told
Sulpicius, the temptation of the devil. Martin tried to escape, instead
of turning to prayer. He rushed to the door and struggled with the bolt,
in vain. The flames caught his dress and set it on fire. He fell down,
and then remembered to pray. The flames felt the change and spared him.
The monks, who had heard the fire crackling and roaring, burst open the
door and looked for his dead body; they found him safe and sound. He
confessed to Sulpicius, not without groaning, that the devil had for the
time overcome him. In these modern times, to lie down on the floor is a
common precaution against being smothered by the smoke in a burning room.
This _Life of St. Martin_ is very interesting reading. It is too tempting
to give the substance of the chapter previous to the one given above.
The saint was at his usual work of destroying a very ancient temple.
When he had accomplished this, he set to work to fell a pine-tree which
stood near. The chief priest and the pagan crowd drew the line at that,
and would not allow it. Martin told them there was nothing worthy of
worship in a piece of wood; it was dedicated to a demon and it must come
down. Thereupon a crafty pagan, seeing his way to getting rid of this
objectionable destroyer of temples, and regarding the sacred tree as
well lost for such a gain, proposed a bargain. “If you have sufficient
confidence in your God whom you say you serve, we will ourselves cut
down the tree, and it shall fall upon you; if your Lord is with you, as
you say, you will escape with your life.” The bargain was struck on both
sides. The tree leaned in a certain direction, so that there was no doubt
where it would fall. Martin was tied by the rustics in the right place,
and they began to cut with their axes. The tree began to nod, leaned more
and more to the precise spot they had selected. At last they had cut deep
enough; the crash of the rending trunk was heard; the monks turned pale;
the saint raised his hand and made the sign of the cross; at the moment
a whirlwind came and blew the tree far to one side.
We must now return to the life of St. Martin’s faithful follower, Alcuin.
“This also must be mentioned to the praise of the Lord, that very
frequently many infirm people, when they came to Albinus and received his
benediction with faith, recovered bodily health. On a certain occasion,
as is reported by some of the chief authorities, a poor man came, having
his eyesight obstructed by a grievous dimness. He reached the door of the
outer dwelling of Albinus, and begged that water be given him with which
his eyes might be bathed; for he said it had been revealed to him that if
he could wash his eyes with some of it he would recover his sight.[56]
Unknown to Albinus, some of the water in which he had washed his own
face and eyes was secretly given to the poor man who begged for water.
The poor man bathed his eyes with the water, in full faith; the dimness
disappeared, and he recovered his clearness of sight. We, too, are
enlightened by thy sweat, father, and the sins of our souls are washed by
thy pious doctrine. Thou, too, didst scarce see anything with thy bodily
sight, but wast always engaged in lightening the eyes of others; and
those whom thou couldest not enlighten in bodily presence thou didst in
absence instruct by letters, writing many things profitable to the whole
church.
“For at the request of Karl he wrote a most useful book on the Holy
Trinity; also on rhetoric, dialectic, and music. He wrote to Gundrad on
the nature of the soul. At the most honourable request of the ladies
Gisla and Rotruda, he composed a remarkable book on the Gospel of St.
John, partly his own and partly taken from the holy Augustine. He
wrote also on four Epistles of Paul, to the Ephesians, to Titus, to
Philemon, and to the Hebrews;[57] to Fredegisus on the Psalms;[58] to
Count Wido[59] homilies on the principal vices and virtues; to his own
Sigulf very useful notes on Genesis; on the Proverbs of Solomon, on
Ecclesiastes, on the Song of Songs clearly, briefly, indescribably. Under
the names Frank and Saxon[60] he wrote a most able book on grammar in the
form of question and answer. He collected two volumes of homilies from
many works of the Fathers. He wrote on orthography. On the 118th Psalm
(our 119th) he wrote with a pen of gold. There are many other writings in
which any one who reads and studies them attentively will find no small
edification, as in the letters which he wrote to many persons. In these
and like works he spent the remainder of his days, living on earth the
life of heaven. Preparing himself in his latest days for the coming of
the Son of Man, that he might go in with Him to the wedding, he washed
every night his couch with tears,[61] always fortifying himself with the
intercessions of the saints, whose solemnities he regularly celebrated,
lest he should be pierced by any darts of the ancient enemy, who never
could steal into his dwelling so secretly as not to be at once detected
by him and driven out by the sign of the Cross.
“On a certain night, when he desired to pour forth prayer in secret after
his wont, with chanting of Psalms, he was oppressed by very heavy sleep.
But he rose from his couch, and put on his cape; and when again he was
oppressed with sleep, he took off all his clothes except his shirt and
drawers. The sleepiness continuing, he took a censer, and going to the
place where fire was kept burning, he filled it with live coal and put
incense on it, and a sweet odour filled the chamber. In that hour the
devil presented himself to him in bodily form, as it were a large man,
very black and misshapen and bearded, hurling at him darts of blasphemy.
‘Why dost thou act the hypocrite, Alcuin?’[62] he asked. ‘Why dost thou
attempt to appear just before men, when thou art a deceiver and a great
dissimulator? Dost thou suppose that for these feignings of thine Christ
can hold thee to be acceptable?’ But the soldier of Christ, invincible,
standing with David in the tower[63] builded for an armoury, wherein
there hang a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men, said with a
heavenly voice, ‘The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom then shall
I fear? He is the strength of my life; of whom then shall I be afraid?
Hear my crying, O Lord; incline thine ear to my calling, my King and my
God, for unto Thee do I make my prayer.’ With these and other verses of
the Psalms the enemy was at length put to flight; Albinus completed his
prayer and went to rest.[64] At that time only one of his disciples,
Waltdramn by name, who is still alive, was watching with him; he saw
all this from a place of concealment, a witness of this thing that took
place.”
St. Martin himself once had a meeting with the devil[65]. There came
into his cell a purple light, and one stood in the midst thereof clad in
a royal robe, having on his head a diadem of gold and precious stones,
his shoes overlaid with gold, his countenance serene, his face full of
joy, looking like anything but the devil. The devil spoke first. “Know,
Martin, whom you behold. I am Christ. I am about to descend from heaven
to the world. I willed first to manifest myself to thee.” Martin held his
tongue. “Why dost thou doubt, Martin, whom thou seest? I am Christ.” Then
the Spirit revealed that this was the devil, not God, and he answered,
“The Lord Jesus did not predict that He would come again resplendent with
purple and diadem. I will not believe that Christ has come, except in the
form in which He suffered, bearing the stigmata of the Cross.” Thereupon
the apparition vanished like smoke, leaving so very bad a smell that
there was no doubt it was the devil. “This account I had from the mouth
of Martin himself,” Sulpicius adds.
“The father used a little wine, in accordance with the apostle’s
precept, not for the pleasure of the palate, but by reason of his bodily
weakness.[66] In every kind of way he avoided idleness; either he read,
or he wrote, or he taught his disciples, or he gave himself to prayer
and the chanting of Psalms, yielding only to unavoidable necessities of
the body. He was a father to the poor, more humble than the humble, an
inviter to piety of the rich, lofty to the proud, a discerner of all,
and a marvellous comforter. He celebrated every day many solemnities of
masses[67] with honourable diligence, having proper masses deputed for
each day of the week. Moreover, on the Lord’s day, never at any time
after the light of dawn began to appear did he allow himself to slumber,
but swiftly preparing himself as deacon with his own priest Sigulf he
performed the solemnities of special masses till the third hour, and then
with very great reverence he went to the public mass. His disciples, when
they were in other places, especially when they assisted _ad opus Dei_,
carefully studied that no cause of blame be seen in them by him.
“The time had come when Albinus had a desire to depart and be with
Christ. He prayed with all his will that if it might be, he should pass
from the world on the day on which the Holy Spirit was seen to come
upon the apostles in tongues of fire, and filled their hearts. Saying
for himself the vesper office, in the place which he had chosen as his
resting-place after death, namely, near the Church of St. Martin, he sang
through the evangelic hymn of the holy Mary with this antiphon[68], ‘O
Key of David, and sceptre of the house of Israel, who openest and none
shutteth, shuttest and none openeth, come and lead forth from the house
of his prison this fettered one, sitting in darkness and the shadow of
death.’ Then he said the Lord’s Prayer. Then several Psalms—Like as the
hart desireth the water-brooks. O how amiable are Thy dwellings, Thou
Lord of hosts. Blessed are they that dwell in Thy house. Unto Thee lift
I up mine eyes. One thing I have desired of the Lord. Unto Thee, O Lord,
will I lift up my soul.
“He spent the season of Lent, according to his custom, in the most worthy
manner, with all contrition of flesh and spirit and purifying of habit.
Every night he visited the basilicas of the saints which are within the
monastery of St. Martin,[69] washing himself clean of his sins with
heavy groans. When the solemnity of the Resurrection of the Lord was
accomplished, on the night of the Ascension he fell on his bed, oppressed
with languor even unto death, and could not speak. On the third day
before his departure he sang with exultant voice his favourite antiphon,
‘O key of David,’ and recited the verses mentioned above. On the day of
Pentecost, the matin office having been performed, at the very hour at
which he had been accustomed to attend masses, at opening dawn, the holy
soul of Albinus is[70] released from the body, and by the ministry of
the celestial deacons, having with them the first martyr Stephen and the
archdeacon Laurence, with an army of angels, he is led to Christ, whom
he loved, whom he sought; and in the bliss of heaven he has for ever the
fruition of the glory of Him whom in this world he so faithfully served.”
The Annals of Pettau enable us to fill in some details of Alcuin’s death.
Pettau was not far from Salzburg, and therefore the monastery was likely
to be well informed. Arno of Salzburg, Alcuin’s great admiration and
his devoted personal friend, would see to it that in his neighbourhood
all ecclesiastics knew the details. The seizure on the occasion of his
falling on his bed was a paralytic stroke. It occurred, according to the
Annals from which we are quoting, on the fifth day of the week on the
eighth of the Ides of May, that is, on May 8; but in that year, 804,
Ascension Day fell on May 9, so that for the eighth of the Ides we must
read the seventh of the Ides. The seizure took place at vesper tide,
after sunset. He lived on till May 19, Whitsunday, on which day he died,
just as the day broke.
“On that night,” to return to the Life, “above the church of the holy
Martin there was seen an inestimable clearness of splendour, so that to
persons at a distance it seemed that the whole was on fire. By some,
that splendour was seen through the whole night, to others it appeared
three times in the night. Joseph the Archbishop of Tours testified that
he and his companions saw this throughout the night. Many that are still
sound in body testify the same. To more persons, however, this brightness
appeared in the same manner, not on that but on a former night, namely,
on the night of the first Sunday after the Ascension.
“At that same hour there was displayed to a certain hermit in Italy the
army of the heavenly deacons, sounding forth the ineffable praises of
Christ in the air; in the midst of whom Alchuin[71] stood, clothed with a
most splendid dalmatic, entering with them into heaven to minister with
perennial joy to the Eternal Pontiff. This hermit on that same day of
Pentecost told what he had seen to one of the brethren of Tours, who was
making his accustomed way to visit the thresholds of the Apostles.[72]
The hermit asked him these questions,—‘Who is that Abbat that lives at
Tours, in the monastery of the holy Martin? By what name is he called?
And was he well in body when you left?’ The brother replied, ‘He is
called Alchuin, and he is the best teacher in all France. When I started
on my way hither, I left him well.’ The solitary made rejoinder, with
tears, that he was indeed enjoying the very happiest health; and he told
him what he had seen at day-break that day. When the brother got back to
Tours, he related what he had heard.
“Father Sigulf, with certain others, washed the body of the father with
all honour, and placed it on a bier. Now Sigulf had at the time a great
pain in the head, but being by faith sound in mind, he found a ready
cure for his head. Raising his eyes above the couch of the master, he
saw the comb[73] with which he was wont to comb his head. Taking it in
his hands he said, ‘I believe, Lord Jesus, that if I combed my head with
this my master’s comb, my head would at once be cured by his merits.’ The
moment he drew the comb across his head, that part of the head which it
touched was immediately cured, and thus by combing his head all round he
lost the pain completely. Another of his disciples, Eangist by name, was
grievously afflicted with immense pain in his teeth. By Sigulf’s advice
he touched his teeth with the comb, and forthwith, because he did it in
faith, he received a cure by the merits of Alchuin.
“When Joseph, the bishop of the city of Tours, a man good and beloved
of God, heard that the blessed Alchuin was dead, he came to the spot
immediately with his clerks, and washing Alchuin’s eyes with his tears,
he kissed him frequently. He advised, moreover, using wise counsel, that
he should not be buried outside, in the place where the father himself
had willed, but with all possible honour within the basilica of the
holy Martin, that the bodies of those whose souls are united in heaven
should on earth lie in one home. And thus it was done. Above his tomb
was placed, as he had directed, a title which he had dictated in his
lifetime, engraved on a plate of bronze let into the wall.”[74]
The simple epitaph, apart from the title, ran thus:—
“Here doth rest the lord Alchuuin the Abbat, who died in peace on the
fourteenth of the Kalends of June. When you read, O all ye who pass by,
pray for him and say, The Lord grant unto him eternal rest.”