One of the central lights of civilisation and Christianity in the
early days of Wessex was the monastery of Abingdon. St. Birinus had
fixed the centre of his missionary labours at Dorchester, only six
miles distant, but the Abbey was the fruit of the heroic zeal of
another evangelist, upon whom his mantle fell--St. Wilfrid. After the
death of Birinus, the zeal of his successors failed to evangelise the
southeastern districts of Wessex, until, at length, came Wilfrid,
fervent in zeal, and, stationing himself at Selsey, near Chichester,
evangelised both Sussex and Wessex, sending out missionaries
like-minded with himself, even into the most inaccessible wilds.
Centwin was then king of Sussex, but various petty states were
tributary to him, and ruled by viceroys. One of these viceroys was
Cissa, whose dominions included Wiltshire and the greater part of
Berkshire {ix}. This Cissa and his nephew, Hean, founded Abingdon.
A mission was sent out from Chichester which attracted great
multitudes of the Berkshire folk. Hean was present, and heard the
preacher take for his text that verse of St. Matthew which declares
that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than
for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. These words entered into
the hearts of Hean and his sister Cilla, who was with him. They
determined to go and sell all that they had and embrace a life of
poverty. From their uncle, Cissa, they obtained grants of land,
whereon they founded monastic homes. Cilla dedicated the convent she
reared to St. Helena, the mother of Constantine, traditions of whose
life in the neighbourhood had survived the Saxon Conquest.
Hean obtained the land of which Abingdon formed the central point,
then generally known by the name Cloveshoo. He was tardy in his work
as contrasted with his sister, and Cissa died without seeing the work
for which he had given the land accomplished. Ceadwalla succeeded him
(A.D. 685), and further augmented the territory. He rebelled against
Centwin, and became king of Wessex; spending most of his life in
warfare; it was through his conquest of the island that the "Wight"
became Christian. He made a pilgrimage to Rome, where he died, after
his baptism by Pope Sergius.
Ina, his successor (A.D. 688), was so angry at the long delay in
building the monastery, that at first he revoked the grant of his
predecessors to Hean, but becoming reconciled, gave all his energy to
the work, and Cloveshoo {x}, or Abingdon, became a monastic town,
and its history commences as a house of God from Ina, about A.D.
690-700.
Important benefits were thus conferred on the whole neighbourhood;
agriculture flourished, learning increased, a sanctuary for the
oppressed was provided, and last, though not least in Ina's eyes, a
bulwark against Mercia was provided for the neighbourhood; while the
poor and the afflicted found their happiness in every way promoted by
the neighbourhood of the monastery.
Several times the monastery was in peril by reason of the wars between
Wessex and Mercia. In A. D. 752, Cuthred of Wessex defeated Ethelbald
of Mercia at Burford, hard by, and protected Abingdon from further
aggressions. Twenty-five years later the decision of war was reversed.
Offa, the great and fierce king of Mercia, defeated Cynewulf of
Wessex, at Bensington, and spoiled the land, destroying the convent of
St. Helena, founded by Cilla, and grievously robbing and oppressing
Abingdon.
But the most awful calamity it ever underwent was its destruction in
the first great Danish invasion, in the early days of King Alfred,
when it was literally levelled with the ground, only, however, to
arise in greater magnificence when the storm had passed away.
However the period of anarchy had introduced evils which required a
stern reformer, and one was found in the person of the abbot
Ethelwold, the friend of St. Dunstan, who, in conjunction with him and
Oswald, introduced the rule of St. Benedict into Abingdon,
Glastonbury, Ely, and other great houses, which, by its absolute
prohibition of monastic idleness, and its wise regulations, caused the
religious houses of that period to become the central points of
civilisation and learning in the land.
Here, at this famous monastery, we resume Father Cuthbert's Diary.
In festo St. Edmundi.
Again I resume my diary, at the great monastic house of Abingdon,
where I have rejoined my brethren. I have already told how, in company
with Elfwyn, Father Adhelm and I sought the forest farm where our
beloved ones had found refuge from the cruel oppressor. The joy of the
women and children to whom their husbands and fathers were thus
restored was very touching; all seemed willing to forget the
destruction of their homes, since they had been spared to each other,
and I, to whom, by my vows, such love is unknown, yet could but feel
how holy a thing is family affection.
Alas, there was one family where the bitterness of death had found its
way. I cannot describe the touching scene when Elfwyn told the fate of
dear Bertric. Well, they will learn by and by to thank God for him and
his example, for we doubt not he died a martyr, although we know not
the details, and, unless Alfgar yet lives, shall perhaps never know
them.
We held a long consultation upon our future movements. It was wisely
decided not to rebuild Aescendune at present, for the place where they
now are can be rendered very commodious, and is far more secure
against a foe. We do not dare to hope that we have seen the last of
our troubles; the Danes are wintering in the Wight, ready for fresh
mischief next spring and summer.
We have been able to learn nothing of Alfgar; but we think that Anlaf
probably yet lives, and that he has recovered his son; yet we cannot
imagine how he escaped on St. Brice's night.
Well, to return. We at once set to work, and erected a church of
timber, for the service of God; and I said mass in it the first Sunday
after our arrival there. It may be supposed it is not a very grand
church; but God looks at the living stones, and reads the heart.
We all had enough to do for the first few days; but within a week one
might suppose we had been living there an age. Log huts were erected
for the whole population; the old farm house, which is large and
strongly built, taking the place of the hall. One must dispense with
some comfort now.
My brother sent a portion of his men to rejoin the army, but feels
himself justified in entering at once on his winter quarters with the
remainder; in fact, since my arrival at Abingdon, the troops have all
been dismissed for the winter, and the Danes have, as I said, retired
to the Wight.
Then, leaving Father Adhelm in charge of the woodland settlement, I
determined to visit my brethren here, where I have been received with
all Christian love and hospitality by the abbot and his brethren.
Three days my journey lasted. I travelled with only two attendants,
serfs of our house; a poor prior burnt out from house and home.
Nov. 21st, 1006.--
This evening I heard heavy steps on the stairs, and methought their
tread seemed familiar, as well it might, for no sooner had the door
opened than my son Alfgar, for whom we had mourned as dead, or at
least dead to us, fell upon my neck and wept.
It was a long time before either of us was composed enough to say
much, but when we had a little recovered, the abbot who had brought
them to my rooms introduced a tall young man in gleeman's garb, as
Edmund the Etheling.
At length we all sat down to supper, but talked so much we could eat
little, and I soon learned all the news Alfgar had to tell. His tale
is wonderful; he has been indeed delivered from the mouth of the lion,
nay, from the jaws of the fierce lion; but I must set down all things
in order.
The one thing which delights me most is the way in which his faith has
stood the hard hard test to which it has been put.
But my dear nephew Bertric, Saint Bertric we must assuredly call him,
oh how it will lighten the grief of his parents and sister to know how
gloriously he died for Christ! One could envy him his crown.
And then how delighted Ethelgiva will be to learn not only that Alfgar
is alive, but to hear how true and brave he has been.
But when all these congratulations were over, and we had learned all
that Alfgar had to tell, there was evidently something on the mind of
the prince.
"Alfgar and I have a very important duty to perform," he said.
I waited, and he proceeded.
"There has been grievous treachery in our ranks. Edric Streorn has
sold us to the Danes."
"I feared as much," said I, sadly.
"I learned it at Carisbrooke, and am now on my way to Dorchester,
where my royal father has arrived, or will arrive tomorrow. I should
have gone there at once, but Alfgar learned you were here, and would
come. Besides, we need your help to fit us for appearing at court."
And, in truth, their habiliments were not very royal.
Well, Abingdon is a town of great resources, wherein all things meet
may be found.
"We will to the tradesmen tomorrow," I said, "and fit you for the
presence."
"I have yet heavier news to unfold," Edmund added, very seriously.
"The Danes purpose a winter campaign in the heart of the land, hoping
to take us unawares."
"Now the saints forbid!" said I.
"Even so; but they are not all with us. St. Brice is against us."
I sighed, and so did they. The very remembrance of that day is
sickening.
"We have heard," said the abbot, "that the king will arrive tomorrow
at Dorchester; we will send you thither in the morning. Meanwhile, my
sons, you do not eat and drink as I would have you. Remember you need
to sustain exhausted nature."
That was indeed true. They had travelled fast, and had fasted by the
way, of necessity.
"Well, Alfgar, we will tomorrow to the king," said Edmund, after they
had eaten and drunken; "he must surely listen to us now."
"He appears to love this wicked Edric," said the abbot sorrowfully.
"Far better than his own flesh and blood," replied Edmund.
"My son," said the abbot, "rest here this night in our poor house;
tomorrow we will find you both horses and fitting apparel, and ye
shall go meetly to the king, who is the guest of the bishop."
"I shall not be sorry, father, to see the inside of my chamber," said
the young prince; for he is yet young, although so wise and
valiant--not more than a year or two older than Alfgar.
The compline bell rang.
"I will go with you to thank God first for our deliverance, and to pay
my vows to Him," said Edmund; "then to bed."
After compline, Edmund went from the chapel to bed. Alfgar would not
retire. He came to my cell; there he talked with me for a full hour.
His affection moves me greatly. He has evidently found a real friend
in Prince Edmund, who has delivered him from a cruel death, and who
wants to attach him permanently to his service. Meanwhile Alfgar is
all haste to return to Aescendune and Ethelgiva, before any further
steps are taken.
Saturday, Nov. 22d, 1006.--
After we had arrayed the Etheling and Alfgar this morning, I decided
to accompany them on their road to Dorchester, for it happened that I
had arranged to say mass and preach tomorrow at the little church of
St. Michael at Clifton, the residence of my sister Bertha and her
husband Herstan. It lies on a cliff over the Thames, on the way to the
cathedral city, whence its name, "the town on the cliff."
So we started, the Etheling, Alfgar, and I, after the chapter mass at
nine. We crossed the fine timber bridge over the Isis, then kept the
causeway over the marshes, till, crossing an arm of the main stream,
we ascended a hill and passed through the open country.
On the north the country is richly wooded. There lies the chase of
Neweham, abounding in deer, with a few wolves yet lingering in its
recesses, and forming sport for the ceorls.
In the neighbourhood of a great monastery the roads are always good,
and waggons can travel easily and smoothly from Abingdon to
Dorchester. So, being well mounted, we were only the best part of an
hour in reaching Clifton.
The river here makes a sudden bend to the east, after running for some
time almost due north, and at the bend the steep cliff rises whereon
the little church and my brother Herstan's hall is built, with a few
cottages below and around occupied by his theows.
We went first to the church and offered our devotions. From the
elevated ground whereon it stands, the cathedral of Dorchester and the
Synodune hills formed conspicuous objects.
Then we turned to the hall, and met a reception such as warmed the
heart. When we had refreshed ourselves, I had to tell Bertha all the
strange events which have recently happened at Aescendune; of the
destruction of her old home, but of the well being of all her friends;
yes, of all, for we know that he has won the martyr's crown.
Some natural tears she dropped; but I think she soon came to see all
things in their right light, as we try to do.
Soon after our arrival, Herstan sent a messenger to Dorchester to
learn at what hour the king was expected; and the answer was returned,
that they expected him in time for the banquet at the episcopal palace
this evening. So Edmund and Alfgar consented to pass the day quietly
at Cliffton.