A NEW EDITION OF JOCELIN OF BRAKELOND.* IT is difficult

to say whether this pleasant little volume, edited by Sir Ernest Clarke and published by the De La More Press, will be more welcome to those who already know Abbot Samson and his chronicler through the instrumentality of Carlyle and John Richard Green, or to the generation that knows Carlyle less by his own books than by the books which have been written about him. Used by Carlyle in his Past and Present to point the contrast between English social life in the twelfth century and English anti-social life in the middle of the nineteenth century, the Chronicle of Jocelin of Brakelond serves equally well at the beginning of the twentieth century to remind us of the sameness of human nature in all centuries. A living picture—realistic in every detail—of the interior economy and exterior influence of an imposing mediaeval monastic establishment, it is also a poignantly naïve book of character, and an epitome of wisdom, spon- taneously evolved from experience, and good for the spiritual and practical guidance of the social reformer, the conservative landowner, and the simple citizen of our own day. And it is all this, not because it aims at teaching anybody • The Chronicle of Jocelin of Brakelond a Picture of Monastic Life in the Days of Abbot Samson. Newly edited by Sir Erneet Clarke. London: Alexander Moring, the De La More Press. [2s. 6d.]

anything, but because it happens to be a faithful history of the affairs and men of a great monastery during a term of six or seven years, in the course of which the government passed from the hands of a superannuated and incompetent Abbot into those of a born ruler of men and administrator of affairs. Of the piety of Abbot Samson, Jocelin of Brakelond makes, indeed, little account in words ; and we detect in one or two remarks of his latest editor an inclination to infer from this testimony of omission that Samson was somewhat lacking in the pious instincts,—that he was more of an administrator than an ecclesiastic, less of a saint than an economist. But the truth —as Carlyle recognised—is that in the whole of this Chronicle, as also in other old monastic books, there is remarkably little said about the piety or personal religion of anybody. The thing is taken for granted, magnificently assumed, and wrapped once for all in a golden silence of reverent reticence. In the words of Carlyle,—

" Jocelin, Eadmer, and such religious men, have as yet nothing of Methodism' ; no Doubt or even root of Doubt. Religion is not a diseased self-introspection, an agonising inquiry : their duties are clear to them, the way of supreme good plain, indisputable, and they are travelling in it. Religion lies over them like an all- embracing heavenly canopy, like an atmosphere and life-element, which is not spoken of, which in all things is presupposed without speech."

It is in the practical doing and behaving of Samson that we must look for his piety,—in his zealous service and perfect

submission in the days when he was a simple monk, and he saw all things going to ruin in the monastery, and said to himself and his brother-monks that this was the "hour of the flatterer," in which it was more than useless for honest men to protest; and afterwards in his strenuous reform of accumu- lated abuses. Perhaps also in the personal austerity and faithful observance of rule in the midst of his multifarious occupations, in the yearning to put on that "little linen cross" be had made privately (and left the needle banging to it), hoping for the permission of the King—which was not granted—to take part in the Crusade. Most of all one finds the symptoms of it in the quaint and touching incident of the exhumation of the body of St. Edmund and the childlike reverence of the Abbot's homage. It is from the chapter devoted to this incident, and the circumstances leading up to it, that one gets the best insight into the more religious side of the monastic life. The story is too long to be retold as a whole in Jocelin's words. But one compresses it reluctantly,

so picturesque and human is every syllable of the original. There had been a fire in the shrine, caused by the carelessness of its keepers, who were wont to renew the tapers (kept burn- ing perpetually) "by placing one candle upon the stump of another in a slovenly manner." Under the platform that held the tapers— "were many things irreverently huddled together, such as flax and thread and wax, and various utensils. In fact, whatever was used by the keepers of the shrine was put there. Now when these keepers of the shrine were fast asleep, on the night of St. Ethelreda, part of a candle that had been renewed, and was still burning, fell, as we conjecture, upon the aforesaid platform covered with rags. Consequently, all that was near, above or below, began to burn rapidly, so much so that the iron gratings were at a white heat."

Jocelin saw in this accident a visitation of the wrath of God. upon the careless keepers of the shrine, and mercy tempering wrath in the time of the visitation, "for, just then the clock struck before the hour of matins, and the master of the vestry getting up observed and noticed the fire." The shrine was seriously injured but not destroyed. The Abbot, absent at the time of the accident, came home "exceedingly grieved," told the monks that the visitation VMS not specially for the fault of the careless keepers, but for the sins of the whole convent, especially for the grumbling of the brothers at their meat and drink,—and after giving immediately all the gold in his own possession towards the work of restoration, suggested that the brothers should forego their pittances for the space of one year, dedicating the money to the same purpose. This, Jocelin said, "we agreed" to do, "but our resolution was afterwards altered by the sacrist saying that St. Edmund could very well repair the shrine without such assistance." When the restoration was complete the transfer of the coffin from the old shrine to the new was made in the dead of night. Only a few carefully chosen brothers were allowed to take part in the operation. Twelve men worked at re- moving the lid of the coffin, for this was the opportunity

chosen by Samson for beholding the face of the Saint and touching his body. Then the men were dismissed, leaving the Abbot, the sacrist, and Walter, the physician, with the body. Jocelin records the words and gestures of simple but fervent piety with which Samson made his devotion, and then goes on to tell of the disappointment of the brothers who were not allowed to see the Saint. It seems the convent had expected that all would be admitted, and when they realised that the thing was done without their participation "they wept and sang the Te Deum Laudamus with tears." Jocelin adds, however, with childish no:I:vete, "the Most High so ordering it, that there might be abundance of wit- nesses, one of our brethren, John of Dies, sitting upon the roof of the church with the servants of the vestry, saw all these things plainly enough."

There is no possible way of reviewing Jocelin's book suc- cinctly. Small volume as it comes to, the simple narrative carries in its garrulous stream a quite stupendous quantity of detail, all interesting, all illustrative of the times, all signifi- cant of character. One must either do as Carlyle did—para- phrase the text and overlay it with commentary—or be content to indicate the quality of the whole by a few representative extracts. And if we want to realise the work Abbot Samson did as an administrative reformer, we cannot do better than give attention to the history of one among the numerous debts encumbering the finances of the monastery at the time of Abbot Hugh's demise :— • -

"Our parlour was destroyed, and it was given in charge to William the Sacrist, will he, null he, that he should restore it. He privily borrowed from Benedict the Jew forty marks at interest, and gave him a security sealed with a certain seal, which used to hang at the shrine of St. Edmund, wherewith the gilds and letters of fraternity were wont to be sealed; a seal which later on, but alas ! too late, was broken by order of the convent. Now when this debt had increased to one hundred pounds, the Jew came bearing a letter from our Lord the King, touching the debt of the sacrist; and then it was that all that had been secret from the Abbot and convent was laid bare."

The Abbot upon this waxed wroth and wished to depose the sacrist :—

"Howbeit, some one went to the abbot, and excusing the sacrist, so wheedled the abbot that he permitted a security to be passed to Benedict the Jew for four hundred pounds, payable at the end of four years, namely, for one hundred pounds, which had already accrued for interest, and also for another hundred pounds, which the same Jew had advanced to the sacrist for the use of the abbot. And the sacrist in full chapter undertook for the whole of that debt to be paid, and a deed was drawn up and _sealed with the conventual seal ; the abbot dissimulating and not affixing his own seal, as if that debt was no concern of his."

So things went on for another four years, at the end of which time it is not surprising to hear that- " There were no means of discharging the debt: and then a fresh deed was executed for eight hundred and eighty pounds, payable at set terms, at the rate of eighty pounds a year. Moreover, the same Jew had many other securities of smaller account, and one which was for fourteen years; so this debt alone came to one thousand and two hundred pounds, besides the interest.that had accrued."

When Hugh died there was free discussion among the monks about his possible Successor. One dreamed that the new Abbot "would rage like a lion among us," and it was felt that the dream had come true when Samson began his strenuous reform of accumulated 'abuses. The man who could boast that in one year he had arranged for the liquidation of all the debts contracted under Hugh's ineptitude, and that in twelve years he had actually discharged them all, must have been more than hero and more than saint had he made no enemies by the way. There were dishonest officials to be deposed, lazy monks to be called back to fervency of zeal, lax brothers to be checked in disorderly courses. Evidences of a spirit of resentment working in the monastery are not wanting. And now and again even the loyal admiration of Jocelin falters. But in the main the chronicler upholds his hero, and we are specially grateful to him for telling us at least one anecdote, which shows that the poor living under Samson's jurisdiction recognised its beneficent character :—

"Once on a time, as we passed through the forest in returning from London, I inquired in the hearing of my lord abbot, from an old woman passing by, whose was this wood, and of what town, who was the lord and who was the keeper ? She answered that the wood belonged to the abbot of St. Edmund, as part of the town of Harlow, and that the name of the keeper was Arnald. When I inquired further, how Arnold conducted himself towards the men of the town, she answered, that he was a devil incarnate, an enemy of God, and one to flay the poor alive; but now, she added, he is afraid of the new abbot of St. Edmund, whom he believes to be prudent and vigilant, and therefore he treats the men gently. On hearing this, the abbot was delighted, and deferred taking to the manor for a season."

Sir Ernest Clarke adds to the translation a bibliographical preface and some interesting notes. The original manuscript, now in the British Museum, fills forty-three folios of a thick quarto volume. Jocelin wrote in monk-Latin, and the first printed edition of his book, published by the Camden Society in 1840, reproduced the text without translating it. Carlyle Englished much of it, and introduced it to the general public in his Past and Present An English version by Mr. T. E. Tomlins was published in 1844, and we understand that since then no other complete translation has been made till now. The present book is in every way charming, and should make.

Abbot Samson and his chronicler known to everybody who • can read English.