“The seed of Christian instruction had been inherited by the sons of St. Benedict from the age of martyrs and holy fathers. Great seminaries were opened at Fulda, Weissenberg in the bishopric of Speyer, St. Alban in Mainz, St. Gall, Reichenau in the bishopric of Constance, St. Maximin, and St. Matthias in Trier, etc. To these establishments the sons of the nobility resorted, while the Benedictines were their teachers and fathers. Whoever saw one of these schools saw them all as to everything essential. Accordingly, it is our purpose to describe one of them—namely, the school of Reichenau, from which came the founder of Einsiedeln, St. Meinrad, and Walafrid Strabo, who was his schoolmate in Reichenau, and who, four years after him, assumed the Benedictine dress.”

Then follows an assurance to the “intelligent reader” that this account “is not mere poetry,” but is “sustained by authoritative documents,” among which are named the writings of Walafrid himself, of Bede, Alcuin, Rabanus, and the collections of Pez, Metzler, and others. It is plain, then, that Kellner has been misled, and that Professor J. D. Butler, of Madison, Wis., who has made this clever translation from the German, has been likewise deceived. Yet the historical importance of the “diary” remains, and the writings of Alcuin, Bede, and Rabanus, with those of Walafrid, give the original particulars and can be cited in proof. Professor Butler adds a few pleasant details about Reichenau. It was founded in 724, earlier than any neighboring convent except St. Gall. It is on an island in the Lake of Constance, whose lake-girt limits are about two miles by three. It became so rich that it acquired many other properties, and its abbot could journey to Rome and never sleep a night outside of his own domain. The old tower, built by Henry the Black, is still standing, and among the cherished relics of the abbey is a piece of green glass weighing twenty-eight pounds given by Charlemagne, who thought it to be an emerald. There is also a supposititious water-pot from Cana of Galilee, which evidently came from Palestine and shows the mediaeval intercourse with the Holy Land. The revenues of the abbey were not sequestrated until the year 1799. Such is a brief sketch of this religious house which we shall again encounter in the story of Hermannus Contractus.

Walafrid’s narrative begins with the year 815. He saw the vast buildings with surprise and was greeted by a throng of future schoolmates. His teacher had several boys under his care to teach them to read. This he did by the help of a wax tablet—the old Roman method. The letters were scratched on the wax and erased by the blunt end of the pointed “style.” Along with this elementary work came Latin, together with a German primer—in both of which the boys were expected to read.

At harvest time there was a short vacation. The boys rambled through the fields and picked fruit and enjoyed themselves generally.

The second year’s work was the learning of conversational Latin. This was the language of daily intercourse and was employed to express all wants. The grammar of Donatus was studied under a pupil-teacher, and the cases and tenses were rigidly committed to memory. The rod was the penalty for misbehavior. German phrases were translated into Latin and some portion of biblical history was repeated to the scholars at night, which they were obliged to tell again in the morning.

Then follows a description of the dedication of the minster and of the solemn effect of the great High Mass, at which time Walafrid resolves to become a monk.

The year 817 was occupied with grammar and orthography, and the use of Latin was compulsory. Hitherto there had been a trifle of laxity and a few lapses into German were forgiven. Now there was no exception to scholars of this advancement. They wrote from dictation upon their tablets, and the Psalter was in this manner transcribed and memorized.

The fourth year (818) was signalized by the planting of the first grape-vine on the island. Doubtless the fact itself is authentic, and is here introduced owing to its date. And in this year the scholars attack prosody. They study Alcuin (who wrote many verses), and the distichs of Cato, and Bede’s De Arte Metrica. The earlier Christian poets—Prosper and Juvencus and Sedulius—are mentioned. It is strange that the author does not name Prudentius, who was far more of a classic than any or all of these three. But it is quite correct to mention Virgil as a permitted book, and the exercises in poetry in which all were engaged.

In 819, the fifth year, the boys became pupil-teachers themselves. They were further instructed in rhetoric, with illustrations from the Bible to be paralleled from Statius and Lucan, whose works they were studying. Other scholars again were set to work as scribes and copyists. The amusements were the running of foot-races, quarter-staff playing, and “dice,” by which we are probably to understand the very ancient game of backgammon. And again, it is strange that no mention is made of the games of ball, which were decidedly common in those days.

The year 820 is consumed with rhetoric—with Cicero, Quintilian, and the histories of Bede, Eusebius, Jerome, and others. The classic authors were Sallust and Livy, with Virgil and (at last) Prudentius and Fortunatus.