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The writer of the following book gives no account of his own early life or parentage, nor do we know anything more of him than may be gathered from the book itself. He calls himself Thomas Monemutensis, or Thomas of Monmouth, and he first appears as one of the monks in the great monastery which Herbert of Losinga had founded at Norwich at the close of the llth century, when, as he tells us, a vision appeared to him in the early morning of Tuesday, in the first week of Lent, 1150.

It is at first sight difficult to understand how a Monmouth man should have found his way to so distant a part of the country as Norwich. But it is noticeable that it was a few years before this that Geoffrey of Monmouth had established a school, which soon became famous, at Llandaff, and that it was apparently in the autumn of 1147 that he issued the final draught of his famous Historia regum Britannice.

The publication of this edition must have brought Geoffrey to consult with his literary friends and patrons in England, and it is far from improbable that our Thomas may have been one of the scholars who accompanied their master when that master was looking out for the preferment, which he evidently was bidding for when he addressed his Vita Merlini to Robert Chesney, Bishop of Lincoln, in 1149. Geoffrey himself was consecrated Bishop of St Asaph, at Lambeth, in February 1152. Thomas had already before this time been admitted a monk at Norwich. He had certainly received a scholar's training in his youth; his Latinity is correct and fluent; it is less crabbed and pretentious than that of Geoffrey; he was familiar with the Latin poets; he quotes Vergil and Horace, seems to have read the Thebais of Statius and could fortify himself with scraps of other classical writers; his allusions indicate quite a wide range of study for the times in which he lived; he had the Vulgate at his fingers' ends, he delights in drawing upon the lives of the saints afterwards comprehended in the Legenda Aurea; I am inclined to believe that he was acquainted with Jonas' life of S. Columban of Luxeuil, and he was certainly a diligent reader of Gregory of Tours. It is not too much to say that in writing the life of the boy saint of Norwich he must have had Gregory's books at his elbow and freely used them for his own purposes.

It is to be noted that all the incidents related in the first two books are confessedly reported on hearsay evidence, from whence we must infer that Brother Thomas was admitted into the monastery during the time that Elias was prior (1146 1150). All this time the story of the martyrdom had made very little way. The Rose had bloomed in the winter of 1144-5. Next spring the man Lewin saw his vision away there in the fens; but the Norwich people had taken so little notice of the story of the martyrdom that they had almost forgotten it. The Easter Synod met again in 1145 and Godwin Sturt got up to make a speech once more. This time it is evident that he produced no impression. Nay! I suspect that Brother Thomas' silence indicates that the priest was listened to with jeers and ridicule. Then, however, he and Lewin played into one another's hands and Lewin's son was cured by a miracle. Even so, nobody seems to have paid much attention to the matter. The man went home with his boy and we hear no more of him. Then came another vision which again Thomas tells on hearsay: he does not venture to give the name of the girl from Mulbarton; what he expressly calls the first notable miracle is again given from the report of others. At last the story of the hysterical young lady at Dunwich attracted attention and we are told that " the memory of the blessed martyr revived, for it had gradually been waning, yea, in the hearts of nearly all it had well-nigh entirely died out."

It was just at this point that the outrageous assassination of the Jew Eleazar by the followers of Sir Simon de Novere brought on a crisis. The Jews demanded that the crime should be punished and laid their charge before the king during one of his visits to Norwich. Bishop Turbe acting in the interest of the accused, who was one of his own mesne tenants, took up the defence with great energy, and in answer to the claim for redress he brought up again the case of the boy William, who, he affirmed, had been murdered by the Jews five years before, and he demanded that justice should be done in the earlier case before any enquiry were proceeded with in the second. If Thomas had himself been present he would certainly have told us so. On the contrary he calls his account of the trial before the king conjecturalis causa. It seems to me that this elaborate report of the speech for the defence was drawn up by Bishop Turbe himself. It is a mere specimen of the ordinary rhetorical exercise.

With this the second book ends, and when the third book begins we find ourselves in the year 1150 with Elias still prior of the monastery and Brother Thomas one of the monks, and a most entire partisan of the bishop and supporter of the story of the martyrdom. Six years had passed since the first Synod, and the story so far from gaining any general acceptance had been discredited by all but a very few. There lay the body of the murdered boy in the monks' cemetery, but the excitement had long ago ceased, and every attempt to create a belief in the reality of the martyrdom had failed. Prior Elias steadily set himself against making capital out of what he evidently regarded as a mere imposture; the bishop and his satellite, however, were not to be gainsaid.

On Tuesday, in the first week in Lent 1150, Brother Thomas saw his first vision. The great founder appeared to him and gave him two messages to deliver, one to the bishop and the other to the prior, ordering them to arrange for the removal of 'the Martyr' to a worthier resting place: he was to be laid in the Chapter House in a place of honour. The prior's health was by this time failing, the bishop was as importunate and resolute as ever; Elias reluctantly gave way. The body was placed in the new tomb; and it looks suspiciously as if some trick had been played whereby I5he grave was not dug deep enough and consequently the slab that covered the stone coffin stood above the floor of the Chapter House. But when Thomas presumed to take too much upon himself he was promptly reproved for his impertinence, and it required another vision to bring about the fixing a light upon the tomb which signified that extraordinary respect was due to the memory of the dead. Just then Prior Elias died, and was succeeded by Richard de Ferrariis, himself a zealous upholder of the martyrdom and a staunch supporter of Thomas and the bishop. After this the cultus of the saint began to spread with amazing rapidity, and when Prior Richard, not content with the saint's body being left in the Chapter House determined that it should be once more taken up and placed in the Cathedral, and when Bishop Turbe warmly seconded him, and with a pompous function and ceremony St William was carried from the cloister and laid by the side of Bishop Herbert's own tomb near the high altar, there was at last a great outburst of enthusiasm. Miracles and visions began to occur from week to week, until the crowds that came to make their offerings at the shrine were found to be a serious inconvenience, and on the oth of April, 1154, just ten years after the discovery of the body in Thorpe Wood, the last removal took place, viz. to the chapel formerly called the Chapel of the Holy Martyrs, and subsequently, as it appears, the Jesus Chapel. Of any subsequent removal we have no record, but the chapel of St William in later times is found on the northern side of the screen which Bishop Lyhart erected in the 14th century, and the remains of that altar may be seen at the present day.

The general acceptance of the story of the martyrdom and the recognition of St William as a real saint undoubtedly date from the time of his removal into the Cathedral. After this the Norfolk gentry began to vie with one another in offering their homage at the new shrine, and all classes followed their lead. It is only necessary to glance at the names of the local magnates to see that quite a furore existed at the end of King Stephen's reign in favour of the boy saint. Norfolk by this time proudly claimed him as her own. The cult was firmly established in East Anglia before the 12th century closed and how the story spread, was borrowed from, plagiarised, and continued to exercise its influence upon the popular beliefs and superstitions of men even in far distant countries must be dealt with by another.

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Our readers will expect some expression of opinion upon the serious question of the credibility of the story and the good faith and honesty of Brother Thomas.

One fact seems certain, namely, a boy's dead body was found in Thorpe Wood on the 24th March, 1144. How it got there, there is not a particle of evidence to show. When Henry de Sprovvston found the corpse he first wished to take it to Sprowston and get it buried in the churchyard, but he changed his mind and buried it where he found it.

Godwin Sturt, the priest, now appears upon the scene, and through his instrumentality the corpse is recognised as the body of his wife's nephew. On his telling his wife of the discovery, she has at once a vision to relate, about which she had never said a word till now. Everything follows intelligibly enough, and I must needs add suspiciously enough: the evidence of the Jew's servant is wholly incredible, and one cannot but think invented years later. The testimony of the Jew, Theobald, is obviously a fabrication and the same must be said of the information asserted to have been given by Sir William Hastings. It is incomparably more probable that Hastings never said anything of the sort; more credible in fact that Brother Thomas lied in giving him the credit of this astounding assertion, than that the Jews should quite gratuitously have borne this damning witness against themselves and volunteered a confession so suicidal. Almost equally improbable, or at any rate very suspicious, is the story of AElward Ded; the story of the birds that would not settle on the body is obviously borrowed from an incident in Jonas' Life of St Columban, § 27.

On the other hand, it is certain that Brother Thomas did not invent the story; it was current when he first became a monk at the priory. The priest Godwin was, one cannot help suspecting, the originator of the accusation and he comes out of it very badly. He not only got hold of the teazle, which he affirmed was the very instrument with which the Jews had tortured their victim, but he made merchandise of it for years, playing upon the credulity of simple people to extort money from them.

Robert, the martyr's brother, became a person of consideration by reason of his relationship with the saint, and the same may be said of his mother Elviva.

When we come to look into the character of Brother Thomas again, we find it very far from blameless. He appropriated candles, and assures us he forgot all about them; he stole the martyr's shoe and hid it away; he filched his teeth and told lies about them. Only when somebody else was informed of his pilferings in a vision did he go any way towards making restitution. There is some reason for suspecting that he got his office of sacrist to the martyr by revelation, and there is only one hint of his having been promoted to any of the more important offices in the priory, though at the time his book was written he had been member of the convent for more than 20 years. That indicates pretty clearly that he was not trusted by the brethren, and that successive priors, in whose hands all the patronage of the monastery lay, kept him at arm's length, and did not promote him to any responsible office. Yet it would be rash and unwarrantable to insinuate that he was from first to last a cunning and designing rogue. In an age of measureless credulity, when doubt is reckoned devil-born, and unquestioning acquiescence in the dominant beliefs of the day is apt to be regarded as more meritorious than the practice of the lowly virtues of uprightness and tolerance, even good and fervent men, and much more those who are very zealous for what they hold to be a great cause, can easily persuade themselves to accept without hesitation or demur the conclusions of those in authority. Unconsciously they get to subject their reason to their interest or their inclinations, till their mental condition becomes one of miserable intellectual torpor, and the critical faculty being paralysed they lose the power of distinguishing truth from falsehood. It is very easy to call such men impostors; it is wiser to remember that in every age there have been examples of this type, men and women of whom it has been said that they are " deceivers and being deceived "; and yet it would be hard, perhaps impossible, to say when and how the one merged into the other. Perhaps the two processes may be at work simultaneously. A man may start by wishing for truth without going the right way to arrive at it, and may end by embracing falsehood till he cannot bear to part with it.

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"Les vies de saints sont aussi de l'histoire," says a great historian. "Ce qu'il y faut chercher," he adds, "ce sont les habitudes, les faits ge'ne'raux et permanents, et l'hagiographe n'avait aucun inte'ret a les altdrer. II peut inventer un miracle, il n'en invente pas les circonstances."

Hagiography, or as it may be called Christian mythology, has few attractions for the general reader of the nineteenth century; his aversion to this kind of literature is at least excusable, but the contemptuous ridicule with which he speaks of it does not prove his superior wisdom. When we can get over the long lists of miracles, which even in their nauseous details have all a strong family likeness to one another, there still remains a very valuable element of social history imbedded in the most extravagant lives of saints that have come down to us. Brother Thomas had little thought of supplying us with information regarding the beliefs or the daily life of his contemporaries, and yet he could not help doing so. Unconsciously he furnishes us with some valuable side lights which give us here and there a glimpse of the habits and manners and superstitions and religious observances of various classes of people in the 12th century. The monk in his cloister was living a life apart, but he could not for all his seclusion be ignorant of what was going on in the outer world. To begin with, he must needs have been brought into relations with the secular or parochial clergy, and he has to speak of them rather frequently in his narrative.

i. It is observable that every priest whom Thomas names is a married man. Wlward. St William's grandfather, Godwin Sturt, who had married his mother's sister, Edwin, the priest of Taverham, husband of her first cousin, and others who are incidentally mentioned are all husbands and fathers, and there is no indication that they were held in less esteem on that account. The attempt to enforce celibacy upon the secular clergy in the diocese of Norwich had never met with any success. How should it when the three immediate predecessors of Bishop Herbert were almost certainly married men? In despite of all papal legislation, decrees of councils, pressure exercised by bishops or heavy taxation imposed upon the married clergy by Henry I. and King John, the secular priests went on taking to themselves wives till late in the 13th century, and in the 12th this was evidently the rule rather than the exception among the English clergy.

ii. When Thomas wrote his book the practice of Auricular Confession had not yet been made obligatory, nor had the Indicative formula of Absolution been introduced into the Church. In the Monasteries, the ancient custom had been for the brethren to make public confession of their faults and sins in the Chapter House and to submit to such penance as might be imposed upon them. Slowly, very slowly, the general confession of guiltiness and sinfulness in which a whole congregation joined audibly, developed into the private confession to a priest, and this was first imposed upon all the faithful by the famous canon, Omnis tttriusque seams, of the Lateran Council of 1216. We hear several times of Confession in the following pages: but the reader must be reminded that we are engaged with the 12th century and not with the 13th. When we read that Wicheman, one of the monks, was appointed the bishop's deputy for receiving confessions, it should be borne in mind that the duties of this office did not consist in extorting secrets from the penitent, or in giving absolution even in the precatory form. He had to hear what the sinner had to tell against himself and to adjudge such penance as the case in his judgment demanded, or in a matter of difficulty to report it to the bishop, who would deal with it in his discretion. Secrecy was not of the essence of confession in those days, and no scruple would be felt in reporting what a dying man had revealed in his last moments. The doctrine of the Seal of Confession had not yet been heard of; it was the inevitable result of the enforcement of auricular confession in a later time. This will explain how Thomas can have known what only could be reported by a priest who had heard the penitent's story. At the point of death men and women then, as now, yearned to unburden their consciences of a load that was heavy to bear, but there was no necessary obligation to conceal what it might in many cases be only a matter of right and duty to make known. The comfort ministered by the priest took the form of an intercessory prayer: and there is no trace in the narrative we are concerned with of any other absolution except that which was pronounced by the bishop on Absolution Day, as the Thursday in Passion Week had by this time got to be called.

Morinus has given some interesting illustrations of this very ancient ceremony. When auricular confession was made obligatory on all and private absolution became universally prevalent, the old public solemnity tended to become obsolete; yet it was still kept up in his own time in many of the French churches, and especially in the diocese of Paris, where among the laity it was called l'Absoute. As far as my own reading has extended I have not met with any instance of the kind in England, later than this in Brother Thomas' narrative.

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There are still some matters alluded to or mentioned in our narrative to which the attention of the reader should be directed.

(i) It appears there was much more education of a certain kind among all classes than one would have expected. The little William, we are told, was taught by his mother: the hysterical girl at Dunwich appears to have been fond of learning: Robert the Carpenter carried about a psalter in his pocket: Thomas himself loses a psalter which he had written for his own use, but it was stolen from him by someone who certainly regarded it as a saleable article.

(ii) There seems to have been a great deal of money changing hands. Two monetarii are named who cannot have been the only licensed coiners in Norwich. In the Confessor's days we know that there were seven "Moneyers" at Chester, and the trade of Norwich more than a century later must have required a good deal of the circulating medium. Moreover, everybody seems to have been able to command threepence for masses or offerings or candles; and the people generally appear to have been fairly well to do. Beggars there were who lived upon alms, but one hears surprisingly little of poverty, while we do hear of a lady who wore many rings on her fingers, and of people wandering about on pilgrimage; moreover the hatred that was felt against the Jews implies that they were living upon the necessities of the traders and artisans, that is, that trade was flourishing, however bad the finance of the traders may have been.

(iii) It is evident that surnames were far more common in East Anglia during the 12th century than some would have us believe. In the following pages the reader will meet with surnames of all kinds and their general prevalence indicates that they must have been in most cases inherited. This will throw us back even to the llth century. Some of these surnames are no more than descriptive of a man's trade or occupation, as Robert Palmarius, Reginald Vacarius, Edward Piscator. Some refer to the place from which the bearer came, as Richard de Needham, but many can hardly be other than patronymics, the original form of which has become so obscured by wear that it is difficult to assign any meaning to them. Such are AElward Ded, Walter Flotberd, Stannard Wrancberd, Godwin Sturt and others, which will be found collected in the index (Surnames).

(iv) As to the superstitions and beliefs of the people, of which the book contains many illustrations, I have not thought it necessary to dwell upon them. Students of folklore will I doubt not find more than one curious passage which will for them possess special interest.