CHAPTER II
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.”