The Hammer of Kings
THERE are few more dramatic pictures in history than that scene enacted in the castle of Roche d'Andeli towards the end of the year 1198. Hugh Bishop of Lincoln had grievously (and unjustifiably) offended Richard Coeur de Lion, and, though it was kittle work to face an angry Plantagenet, the Bishop determined to cross the seas to make his peace in person. "Kiss me, my Lord King." But the King turned away. "You owe me a kiss, for I am come a long way to see you." Still the King was obdurate, whereon the Bishop, plucking vigorously at the royal mantle, continued confidently to press his suit, and got his kiss. The incident illustrates a leading quality in the Saint's character—his utter fearlessness, and from this trait derived his sobriquet of Malleus Regum, the Hammer of Kings. Henry II., his early patron, he openly freed; the tempestuous rage of Richard did not daunt him ; and the subtlety of King John was countered by the Saint's transparent honesty. The strength of this Burgundian monk lay in the Church ; English- man he never was, nor any kind of national, but a Churchman pure and simple, who was fiercely jealous to protect the Church's every interest, and also the interest of common humanity even to the length of taking a convicted thief out of the hands of the hangman. The story of this stalwart priest is related in a decorous narrative by Dr. Woolley, who is himself a Canon of Lincoln. The narrative contains all the essentials, for it is based on the Magna Vita of St. Hugh composed by his chaplain and companion, Adam of Eynsham, and Adam's story, full of intimate personal detail, is styled by Dr. Woolley "a perfect Life." But with such material before him one cannot help remarking that Dr. Woolley's book is a little lacking in life and colour. Still, the facts are there, and in sufficient quantity to enable the reader to frame his own picture of a great ecclesiastic and a very human soul, who would box the ears of a blockhead ; who, though rigidly abstemious himself, was always cheerful and jolly, and would counsel his followers to "eat well, and drink well, and serve God well and devoutly," who in short "loved not God only, but also his fellow-men."
Is it not the irony of circumstance that this Saint, who in life regarded miracles with, distrust, should have been after his death in 1200 the occasion of so many ?
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