Grace Darling, Heroine of the Farne Islands. Marianne Farningham
St. Boisal was the Prior, and, when he died of the plague, St. Cuthbert was chosen to take his place. He filled the office well, and was most assiduous in his attention to, and care of his flock. He visited all the villages and mountain hamlets that were in the neighbourhood, teaching the people, and endeavouring by all means in his power to win them back from Paganism to Christianity.
It was after a time of great activity, and possibly of over-work, that he left Melrose, and became Provost of the monastery at Lindisfarne. After labouring there for a time, he longed for a position of yet greater solitariness, and he therefore resigned his office. It was then that he went to the Farne Islands, which offered loneliness enough to satisfy even the austere recluse. He built himself a cell or hermitage with his own hands, using such rough materials of wood and stone as the islands afforded.
So highly was he esteemed that he was not permitted to remain in obscurity for more than eight or nine years. He was needed to work in the world still, and a deputation, consisting of Ecgfrid, King of Northumbria, and many nobles and clergy, waited upon him in his retirement and earnestly begged him to accept the Bishopric of Hexham. Although he shrank from the irksome task, he was too good a man not to yield to duty, though he did it reluctantly; but he so thirsted for solitude, that Eata, the Bishop of Lindisfarne, exchanged with him. At Easter, he was solemnly consecrated Bishop of Lindisfarne, at York, by Thodore, Archbishop of Canterbury. He did not long continue in office. His health failed, and he pined for the solitude of his beloved Farne Island; and when he had been ten years in his bishopric, he again resigned and sought the lonely rocks, which he did not leave until his death. He died on the 20th of March, 687. He wished to be buried on Farne Island, but had consented to have his remains taken to Lindisfarne, after making the monks promise that, if ever the monastery should be removed, his bones should be taken away also. His body was placed in a coffin of stone, and he was buried near the high altar of the Lindisfarne Cathedral.
Ten years later, the monks decided to enshrine the saint, and place him above, instead of under the pavement. They opened the coffin, and announced to the world that they had found the body "entire, flexible, and succulent," and for eight hundred years it was supposed to remain so.
Nearly two hundred years later, the circumstances which Cuthbert would seem to have dimly foreseen occurred. Troublous times arose in Northumbria. The nobles were at variance with each other, and two rival kings ascended the throne. The wise saying, "a house that is divided against itself cannot stand," was verified here. The wary warlike Danes, seeing this, came trooping down upon the northern district, and fierce and fearful battles were fought. The conquering Norsemen took all the booty they could, plundered, destroyed and desolated the monasteries, and murdered many of the monks. Among the religious sanctuaries that were made desolate, were those of Tynemouth, Jarrow, Monkchester (now Newcastle-on-Tyne), and Hexham. They came again and again, and at last they went to Lindisfarne. The monks there knew they were coming, and hastily prepared for flight. Remembering, even in their time of peril, the dying words of St. Cuthbert, they took his body from the shrine, put it into a coffin, and with it many of the relics of the good Aiden. Besides these, they took, in a sort of ark, "the famous illuminated and jewelled copy of the gospels, which Eadfrith had written," and a few other treasures, and went away to seek a place of safety.
Many miracles were ascribed to St. Cuthbert while living, but still greater wonders are recorded as having taken place long after his death. For seven weary years of wandering, the monks carried about his body. At the beginning of their journey, the water was supernaturally driven back, though, at the time, it was high tide, and they were able to cross on dry land. They went among the hills of Kyloe, and travelled about, through the south of Scotland, and north of England; but though they were everywhere treated with respect, no one was able to offer them a permanent place of safety. At last they decided that they would go over to Ireland, and actually embarked, when a severe storm arose and drove them back to the very spot from which they started. They found that their precious copy of the gospels had been destroyed, and mourned over its loss. But supposing the shipwreck to be an indication that they must not go to Ireland, they went to Scotland, and there, on the Galloway coast, they found their lost treasure!
It is said that the body of the saint floated down the Tweed in its stone coffin. Sir Walter Scott has referred to this legend in Marmion:—
"From sea to sea, from shore to shore,
Seven years St. Cuthbert's corpse they bore.
They rested them in fair Melrose;
But though alive he loved it well,
Not there his relics might repose,
For—wondrous tale to tell!
In his stone coffin forth he rides,
(A ponderous bark for river-tides),
Yet light as gossamer it glides,
Downwards to Tillmouth's cell."
Surtees wrote on the subject of the coffin itself:—"It is finely-shaped, ten feet in length, three feet and a half in diameter, and only four inches thick, and has been proved by experiments to be capable of floating with a weight equal to the human body."
The remains of St. Cuthbert rested at length at Chesterle-Street, where Guthrun, the Christian king, built a church for the wanderers, and richly endowed it. Both Athelstane and "Edmund, the Magnificent," visited the tomb, and rendered homage to the saint. The latter brought valuable presents to the shrine, consisting of Byzantine workmanship, and two bracelets, which he took from his own arms. Edred also followed their example.
In the year 995, the Danish pirates again compelled the monks of Lindisfarne to leave their resting place, taking with them the precious relics of their saint. They sent to Ripon, where they remained for a few months, and then were making their way back when, as they said, in a certain fertile spot, the body became immovable.
Not knowing what to make of this they held a solemn fast, and, on the third day, the saint communicated his wish that they should go to Dunholme, where a permanent church should be built for him. There, accordingly, they went; first erecting a temporary booth to contain their treasure, and afterward building the first Durham Cathedral.[1]
The remains of St. Cuthbert were then enclosed in a costly shrine, and placed in the Cathedral, where they remained until the Reformation.
In 1827, the grave was opened, when, in the innermost of three coffins, his skeleton was found, wrapped in five robes of embroidered silk, some of the fragments of which may still be seen in the Cathedral library.
A cloth, which it is said he used in celebrating mass, was made into a standard, which was believed to bring victory. That gained at Flodden Field was ascribed to it. The banner is said to have been burnt by the sister of Calvin, who was the wife of the first Protestant Dean of Durham Cathedral. No one in our day can read of all the wonders ascribed to St. Cuthbert without incredulous and pitying smiles; and it is very amusing to see how one of his peculiarities has been avenged in later times.
He was an intense woman hater, and his antipathy to the gentle sex was so great, that he would not allow one of them to come near to him, and scarcely tolerated their presence in the religious services which he performed; and he actually built a chapel for them at the extreme end point of the Island of Lindisfarne, where they might worship, instead of presuming to enter his church. He does not seem to have accepted of any favours from them but one. Veria, who was Abbess of Tynemouth at the time that he was at Lindisfarne, gave him a piece of fine linen or silk, which he condescended to keep for his winding sheet. It was a little too bad of him to keep up his antipathy even after his death; but he seems to have done so, for until the Reformation no woman was permitted to approach his shrine. A cross of blue marble was let into the Cathedral floor, beyond the limits of which no female foot might pass under pain of immediate severe punishment. And yet it was a woman who drew the admiring eyes of the modern world to the Farne Islands, where the remains of his priory are still to be seen.
Bound about the story of Grace Darling no particular odour of sanctity gathers; and yet she, according to her light, served the same cause of humanity as St. Cuthbert, and performed a deed of which even he would not need to have been ashamed.
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