another individual entered the valley of Ewyas, estranged from the world, to win in that solitude a dignity which he never coveted, and to attain an ambitious position, after which he had never sighed. This was Robert de Betun, according to his biographer, William de Wycombe, or Robert de Retun, according to the monk of Llanthony. The former represents him as sprung from a family moderately illustrious, the latter as of noble origin. Both agree in lauding his early piety, his profound sanctity, and many eminent virtues. The monk of Llanthony declares he should have been tempted to give the world a portrait of his life, were it not that "his venerable and laudable actions are already digested in a clear learned treatise;" doubtless referring to the work of William de Wycombe, with which he must have been well acquainted, for he lived under his government, and that of Prior Clement, his successor. Robert had a secret predilection for the canonical order and the house of Llanthony, and, when he had confessed his wishes upon the subject to a dignified ecclesiastic, he received the prophetic approval of his design in these words, "Rise and delay not; the Lord be with you, who hath provided a place fitted for your devotion and security; and perhaps to be assisted by your zeal." No sooner had he extricated himself from the management of family affairs, than he set out upon his journey to Llanthony. We cannot refrain from extracting the passage from his biography, which details the occurrences of his travel, because any one who has unfortunately been benighted, as we have been ourselves, in that mountainous region, cannot fail to be impressed with the fidelity of the narrative; or to feel that generations pass away, but that nature preserves her fastnesses unaltered, untouched by time. "When he arrived at the foot of the mountain they call Hatterell, (Hatiram,) night had already shut in the day; a wintry snow covered the roads. With a soul glowing with religious ardour he leaves behind him his companions and their horses, wearied down by the long march, and unable to cross the mountain. He draws off his boots, and abandons them, conceiving that thus he might the more easily keep his feet on the slippery way. The pathway was narrow, winding, rough with rocks, and filled with snow. He ascends slowly, sounding the road with his staff On his right hand rocks jut out, with trees overhanging, as though about to fall; on the left hand a dark

ravine opens to receive the unwary traveller. As often as the snow deceives his footsteps, he falls out of the pathway, from worse to worse, rolling over and over, until arrested by the roots of the trees. One would have thought his body must be crushed by the violence and rapidity of the descent. After a short time, having regained his breath, he stretches out his arms, like one swimming, and shaking off the mass of snow, creeps on hands and knees, until he surmounts the height and recovers the road. In this manner, In this manner, not once, but often he fell and rose again. And now at last he attains the summit of the mountain, where the upright shaft of a cross offers a place of rest. He sits down and leans against it; and in this attitude, fatigued in mind and body, for a moment wavers in his determination. But the suggestions of scripture, that, the sufferings of this world are not to be compared with the glory that should be revealed in us,' disperse the suggestions of the tempter. Rising, therefore, from his resting place, he attempts the descent of the mountain, which he finds to be even more severe than the ascent. Alternately falling upon his back and face, he makes his way to the point where the abrupt mountain-side descends by a gentle slope into the vale below; thence he hears the chiming of the bells to vespers in the church beneath him, and refreshed as though by strains of divine harmony, accomplishes the remainder of his journey with cheerfulness, leaving the traces of his lacerated footsteps in blood upon the snow. The benighted guest knocks at the door of the porter's lodge, is recognized, and admitted. The brethren meet him with lanthorns, and conduct him to the house."

We have condensed this romantic narrative, and have given it as it stands, because one or two incidental points mentioned in it will be found of service when we come to speak of the date and description of the building.

The next day he called together the three individuals whom he knew to be of chief influence in the house, Ernisius the Prior, William, and Robert (de Braci), and under their hands, in the name of the Trinity, delivered himself up to the society of the holy brethren of the canonical order. His devotion, singular austerity, and obedience, earned for him the love and admiration of all, but excited the envy of none.

In the mean time Hugh de Lacy died, and was buried (A.D. 1131) apud Wibeleiam, which may be understood to be

In

Weobley in Herefordshire, where was a castle of some note upon the Marches, in the wars of Stephen and Maude. extremis he had given an estate to the church of Llanthony. The brethren determined to erect a religious house there, in honour of their patron, founder, and benefactor. Robert accompanied William to plan and superintend the building; much praise is bestowed upon his zeal and ingenuity.

But

in the midst of his labours he was recalled to Llanthony and here a discrepancy exists between the two historians, William of Wycombe and the monk of Llanthony. The former expressly says: "While Robert was at Weobley, Ernisius, who had long sighed after his previous life of an anchorite, now for some years interrupted, and deaf to the entreaties of the brethren, obtained his wishes by importunity; who, unable to shake his determination, elected Robert in his place." All this evidently alludes to his resignation as Prior, and resumption of the eremitical life. But the monk of Llanthony without hesitation writes thus: "Some time after, father Ernisius, the first Prior of Llanthony, pays his last debt to nature, and without doubt was crowned in heaven by Him for whom he sought- the good light on earth. The convent thereupon assembled to elect a new pastor, and chose Robert de Retun much against his will." It is rather singular that the latter writer, who, as we have remarked, must have seen William de Wycombe's work, should make an assertion upon this point inconsistent with the other statement. There is no way of clearing up the difficulty, except by giving credit to William, because he is the earlier witness of the two. Ernisius, whether he resigned his office or continued prior till the day of his death, was with William buried under the high altar, according to the testimony of Giraldus.

Robert executed his charge with great edification to the brethren, and with much self-devotion. "It was said of him that when by day he had discharged Martha's duty, by night he would sit with Mary at the feet of the Lord." This saying referred to his private devotions and macerations in the ORATORY at night.

In the year 1127, Richard, bishop of Hereford, died. The see remained void for two years, when application was made to King Henry I. by two influential persons, Paganus, the son of John, and Milo the constable, (son of Walter, who abandoned the world and professed at Llanthony, as stated

above,) to appoint a pastor to the church of Hereford. William de Wycombe says the see had been vacant for five years when this application was made; but here he is mistaken; five years certainly elapsed before the consecration took place, reckoning, inclusively, from the time of Richard's death, but only part of three years before the nomination was made. According to Godwin, the new bishop was nominated by the King in 1129, but not consecrated till 1131. "Nominatus est a Rege A.D. 1129, sed non consecratus usque ad annum 1131." The king listened to their request with attention, and begged to know whether they had any ecclesiastic in their mind whom they could recommend. They replied immediately, "Robert de Betun, the prior of Llanthony." This nomination met with the approval of the King, and the sanction of William, archbishop of Canterbury.

When the intelligence escaped and reached Robert's ears, he, full of apprehension lest he should be withdrawn from his quiet retreat, and truly "nolens episcopari," betook himself to Urban, bishop of Llandaff, to whom he owed canonical obedience, as a professed monk; and opening his case of conscience, beseeched him to withhold absolution from his vows. The bishop acquiesced in the design, and delayed fulfilling the King's and the archbishop's commands to release Robert from his obligation, for a whole year. In the mean time, the whole business had been referred to Pope Innocent, who laid an injunction upon Urban to absolve Robert, and appointed legates for that purpose. Urban and the legates met in the chapter house of Llanthony, where the bishop absolved Robert, and Robert submitted to the pope's precept. An affecting scene followed, in which William de Wycombe, the biographer, played a prominent part, and of which he gives an animated narration. He describes how the prior wept with the brethren, and on his knees supplicated their indulgence for abandoning his flock; at the same time begging pardon for any faults he might have committed, or for offence given; with bare feet he presented to each a scourge, and implored them to inflict discipline upon him. William then relates the manner in which he prevailed upon Robert by his tears and importunity, with the permission of the brethren, to follow him, as "the companion of his travel, the solace of his toil, the minister of his obedience." He continues: "At length we depart, full of sorrow, indeed, and sighs; but when the ARCHÆOL. CAMB. VOL. I.]

Z

holy man attained the summit of the Hatterell mountain, and looked back upon the holy place behind him, he likened himself to a second Adam driven from Paradise into exile. With difficulty he is dragged away from the spot, and with difficulty regains his composure of mind. We his fellowtravellers carefully suggest topics of conversation till he had passed over the mountain."

From the constant mention of the road over the mountain, as the ordinary way to Llanthony, we infer, especially as the travellers were on their journey to Ross, that the valley was at that time impassable by the course of the Hondy down to Llanhiangel Crucorney (the church of the angel with the horn, i. e. St. Michael,) near to which village access is now obtained to it; and this difficulty perhaps arose from the thick woods and morasses mentioned above, as choking up the bosom of the vale of Ewyas.

Robert resisted to the last by appeals to the king and the officers of state, but without success. He was elected bishop of Hereford, and consecrated at Oxford by William Corbel, archbishop of Canterbury, A.D. 1131. The day of his consecration is fixed for the third day of the calends of July by a contemporary writer, the Worcester monk, who continued the chronicle of Florentius to the year 1141. But Gervase in his Acts of the Archbishops of Canterbury, says he was consecrated in Rochester Cathedral. Wharton observes: "I think he was most probably consecrated on the calends of July, for that day, in this year, was a Sunday." The Waverley chronicler grossly errs in stating that Robert was nominated by the king, at Easter, 1133. He presided over the see of Hereford for sixteen years and nine months. Browne Willis, in his History of Cathedrals, says: "Robert de Betun succeeded Richard de Capella, who died at Ledbury, August 15, 1127; but Robert was consecrated June 19, 1131, (evidently a mistake for June 29, the third calends of July, and the festival of St. Peter, which tells against Wharton's suggestion). He died April 22, 1148, and was buried in Hereford cathedral, under an arch, bearing this inscription: "Robert de Betune, Episcopus Herefordensis, obiit, 1148." The bishop died, according to this biographer, "on the 16th calends of May, at Rheims, in the year 1148, when attending a council held in that city, under Pope Eugenius III." Walter de Gloucestre, in his chronicle of St. Peter's, Gloucester, thus notices the event: