Here we have a direct statement that the “Pastoral” was translated by King Alfred himself, after a course of study in which he had been assisted by Plegmund, Asser, Grimbald, and John. His interest in this book seems to show that his estimate of it was something like that of Ozanam, who said that Gregory’s “Pastoral Care” determined the character of the Christian hierarchy, and formed the bishops who formed the nations.

Gregory’s “Dialogues,” on the contrary, were translated, not by the king, but by Werferth, bishop of Worcester, as we are informed by Asser.[111] This translation is extant in manuscripts, but it has not yet been edited. It is, perhaps, the most considerable piece of Anglo-Saxon literature that yet remains to be made public. And it is striking, though not unaccountable, that a book which was one of the most popular ever written,[112] which retained its popularity for centuries, and which has left behind it in literature and in popular Christian ethics bold traces of its influence, should, in the modern revival of Anglo-Saxon, have been so long neglected. As this book is practically inaccessible, and as it was moreover a book peculiarly germane and congenial to the average intelligence of these times, it seems to claim a somewhat fuller notice.

Here, as in other translations, the king wrote a few words of preface.

Ic Ælfred gyfendum Criste mid cynehades mærnesse geweorthad hæbbe cuthlice ongiten, and thurh haligra boca rædunge oft gehyred . thæt us tham God swa micele healicnysse woruld gethingtha forgifen hæfth . is seo mæste thearf thæt we hwilon ure mod gelithian and gebigian to tham godcundum and gastlicum rihte . betweoh thas eorthlican carfulnysse . and ic fortham sohte and wilnode to minum getrywum freondum thæt hy me of Godes bocum be haligra manna theawum and wundrum awriton thas æfterfyligendan lare . thæt ic thurh tha mynegunge and lufe getrymmed on minum mode hwilum gehicge tha heofenlican thing betweoh thas eorthlican gedrefednyssa . Cuthlice we magan nu æt ærestan gehyran hu se eadiga and se apostolica wer Scs Gregorius spræc to his diacone tham wæs nama Petrus . be haligra manna thæawum and life, to lare and to bysne eallum tham the Godes willan wyrceath . and he be him silfum thisum wordum and thus cwæth:— I, Alfred, by the grace of Christ, dignified with the honour of royalty, have distinctly understood, and through the reading of holy books have often heard, that of us to whom God hath given so much eminence of worldly distinction, it is specially required that we from time to time should subdue and bend our minds to the divine and spiritual law, in the midst of this earthly anxiety; and I accordingly sought and requested of my trusty friends that they for me out of pious books about the conversation and miracles of holy men would transcribe the instruction that hereinafter followeth; that I, through the admonition and love being strengthened in my mind, may now and then contemplate the heavenly things in the midst of these earthly troubles. Plainly we can now at first hear how the blessed and apostolic man St. Gregory spake to his deacon whose name was Peter, about the manners and life of holy men for instruction and for example to all those who are working the will of God; and he spake about himself with these words and in this manner:—
Sumon[113] dæge hit gelamp thæt ic wæs swythe geswenced mid tham geruxlum and uneathnessum sumra woruldlicra ymbhegena . for tham underfenge thyses bisceoplican folgothes . On tham woruld scirum we beoth full oft geneadode thæt we doth tha thing the us is genoh cuth thæt we na ne sceoldon . Tha gelyste me thære diglan stowe the ic ær on wæs on mynstre . seo is thære gnornunge freond . fortham man simle mæg his sares and his unrihtes mæst gethencean gif he ana bith on digolnysse . Thær me openlice æt ywde hit sylf eall swa hwæt swa me mislicode be minre agenre wisan . and thær beforan minre heortan eagan swutollice comon ealle tha gedonan unriht the gewunedon thæt hi me sar and sorge ongebrohton. Witodlice tha tha ic thær sæt swithe geswenced and lange sorgende . tha com me to min se leofesta sunu Petrus diacon se fram frymthe his iugothhades mid freondlicre lufe wæs hiwcuthlice to me getheoded and getogen . and he simle wæs min gefera to smeaunge haligre lare . and he tha lociende on me geseah thæt ic wæs geswenced mid hefigum sare minre heortan . and he thus cwæth to me, “La leof gelamp the ænig thing niwes . for hwan hafast thu maran gnornunge thonne hit ær gewunelic wære?” Tha cwæth ic to him, “Eala Petrus seo gnornung the ic dæghwamlice tholie symle heo is me eald for gewunan . and simle heo is me niwe thurh eacan.” On a certain day it happened that I was very much harassed with the contentions and worries of certain secular cares, in the discharge of this episcopal function. In secular offices we are very often compelled to do the things that we well enough know we ought not to do. Then my desire turned towards that retired place where I formerly was in the monastery. That is the friend of sorrow, because a man can always best think over his grief and his wrong, if he is alone in retirement. There everything plainly showed itself to me, whatever disquieted me about my own occupation; and there, before the eyes of my heart distinctly came all the practical wrongs which were wont to bring upon me grief and sorrow. Accordingly, while I was there sitting in great oppression and long silence, there came to me my beloved son Peter the deacon, who, from his early youth, with friendly love was intimately attached and bound to me; and he was ever my companion in the study of sacred lore. And he then looking on me saw that I was oppressed with the heavy grief of my heart, and he thus said to me, “Ah, sire, hath anything new happened to thee, by reason of which thou hast more grief than was formerly thy wont?” Then said I to him, “Alas, Peter, the grief which I daily endure it is to me always old for use and wont; and it is to me always new through the increase of it.”

The edifying stories are sometimes as grotesque as the strangest carvings about a mediæval edifice:—

A nun,[114] walking in the convent garden, took a fancy to eat a leaf of lettuce, and she ate, without first making the sign of the cross over it. Presently she was found to be possessed. At the approach of the abbot, the fiend protested it was not his fault; that he had been innocently sitting on a lettuce, and she ate him.[115]

In the Dialogues we recognise that peculiar ideal of sanctity which we identify not so much with Christianity as with mediæval Christianity. The bright samples of Christian virtues are too like those types which have afforded material to caricature. For example, Æquitius, the good abbot, whose virtues adorn a series of narratives, practises in the following manner the virtue of humility:—

Sothlice he wæs swithe waclic on his gewædum and swa forsewenlic thæt, theah hwilc man him ongean come the hine ne cuthon, and he thone mid wordum gegrette, he wæs forsewen thæt he næs ongean gegreted; and swa oft swa he to othrum stowum faran wolde, thonne wæs his theaw thæt he wolde sittan on tham horse the he on tham mynstre forcuthost findan mihte, on tham eac he breac hælftre for bridele, and wethera fella for sadele. Moreover, he was very mean in his clothing, and so abject, that though any one met him (of those who knew him not), and he greeted him with words, he was so despised that he was not greeted in return; and as often as he would travel to other places, then was it his custom to sit on the horse that he could find the most despicable in the abbey, on which, moreover, he used a halter for a bridle, and sheepskins for saddle.

Constantius was the name of a sacristan who completely despised all worldly goods, and his fame was spread abroad. On one occasion, when there was no oil for the lamps, he filled them with water, and they gave light just as if it had been oil. Visitors were attracted by the report of his sanctity. Once a countryman came from a distance (com feorran sum ceorl) to see a man of whom so much was said. When he came into the church, Constantius was on a ladder trimming the lamps. He was an under-grown, slight-built, shabby figure. The countryman inquired which was Constantius; and, being told, was so shocked and disappointed, that he spoke sneeringly, “I expected to see a fine man, and this is not a man at all!”

Mid tham the se Godes wer Constantius tha this gehyrde, he sona swithe blithe forlet tha leoht fatu the he behwearf, and hrædlice nyther astah and thone ceorl beclypte and mid swithlicre lufe ongann mid his earmum hinc clyppan and cyssan and him swithe thancian, thæt he swa be him gedemde, and thus cwæth: “Thu ana hæfdest ontynde eagan on me and me mid rihte oncneowe.” When Constantius the man of God heard this, he forthwith in great joy left the lamps he was attending to, and nimbly descended and embraced the countryman, and with exceeding love began to hold him in his arms, and kiss him, and heartily thank him, that he had so judged of him; and thus he quoth:—“Thou alone hadst opened eyes upon me, and thou didst rightly know me.”