An English Abba Anthony

Venerable Gúðlác of Crowland

Our father among the saints, Venerable and God-bearing Gúðlác of Crowland, is celebrated today in the Orthodox Church. In the Orthodox Church we refer to this great eremitical elder as the ‘English Abba Anthony’, because he bore the wisdom and the holy life of the Ægyptian Desert Fathers into the swampy, unreclaimed fens of the Lincolnshire countryside.

Gúðlác, a contemporary of Holy Bede, was born to Penwealh Iclingas and his noble wife Tette, in 673. According to Felix’s Life of the saint, at his birth a sign appeared from heaven: a red hand holding a cross, which pointed to the house in which Tette had given birth. He also had a sister, Pega, a nun who lived a holy life and is venerated as a saint in her own right. In his youth, Gúðlác was a bright and filial child to his eldern; he didn’t spend his time in frivolous pursuits. Like Saint Biscop before him, Gúðlác was a þegn and weapon-bearer in the here of Æðelrǽd King of Mercia, the son of Penda, between the ages of fifteen and twenty-four. Felix’s Life gives this time of his life a somewhat darker cast.

Then, as though he had woke from sleep, his disposition was changed, and he collected a great troop and host of his companions and equals, and himself took weapons. Then wreaked he his grudges on his enemies, and burned their city; and ravaged their towns, and widely through the land he made much slaughter, and slew and took from men their goods… It was about nine years that he was thus engaged in hostile raids, the blessed Gúðlác, and he thus wandered amidst the tumult of this present world.

After this, he seems to have a crisis of conscience, a ‘dark night of the soul’. Though he had been drawn into thegnship by tales of worldly glory and heroism passed down from his forefathers, it dawned upon him that all of their strivings had ended in death and wrack.

It happened on one night when he had come from an expedition, and he rested his weary limbs, and thought over many things in his mind; that he was suddenly inspired with divine awe, and his heart within was filled with spiritual love; and when he awoke, he thought on the old kings who were of yore, who thinking on miserable death, and the wretched end of sinful life, forsook this world; and the great wealth which they once possessed, he saw all on a sudden vanish; and he saw his own life daily hasten and hurry to an end. Then was he suddenly so excited inwardly with godly fear, that he vowed to God, if He would spare him till the morrow, that he would be His servant. When the darkness of the night was gone, and it was day, he arose and signed himself with the mark of Christ’s rood. Then bade he his companions that they should find them another captain and leader of their company; and he confessed to them, and said that he would be Christ’s servant… God’s love burnt so within him, that not only did he despise this world, but also his parents’ wealth and his home, and even his companions he all forsook. When he was four and twenty years old, he forsook all the pomps of the world, and set all his hope on Christ.

Thus, thinking upon his own death, he put aside his weapon and did off his byrnie, calmed the rage of his soul and went into the double monastery at Repton, placing himself meekly under the rule of Abbess Ælfþr‎ýð, who held sway over both the monks’ monastery and the nuns’ cloister there.

During his time at the abbey, his repentance was regarded as extreme even by his fellow-monks. He would touch no wine at meal-times, and because of this the brother-monks at Repton at first believed him to be haughty and proud. However, upon becoming known to them, they found him to be the very opposite: kind, loving, forgiving and mild toward them – and neither haughty nor overbearing. He spent his time reading from the Psalter, the Holy Gospels and the writings of the Holy Fathers, and he made a number of true friends among the monks during his two years there, but he was drawn toward another kind of life than what was offered under Ælfþr‎ýð. Upon reading about the lives of Anthony the Great and the other fathers of the Ægyptian Desert, he was seized by a strong desire to emulate their eremitical way of life, and after having spent two years as a monk he sought permission from his Abbess to withdraw from the monastery into the fens, there to be closer to Christ. Abbess Ælfþr‎ýð and the monastic prior, beholding the sincerity of his request, gave him their blessing.

When he came to the fens he met a man named Tatwine. Tatwine told him of a remote island in the midst of the fens, which men had often tried to settle but, on account of the deadly plights and the ‘manifold horrors and fears’ of the fens and the wicked spirits and dæmons that lived there, they never could succeed. Upon hearing of this place, Gúðlác straightaway bade Tatwine to take him there, and they both went by boat to this island – Crowland – which lay in the middle of the fens. Gúðlác landed upon the island on the feast day of Saint Bartholomew, and for that reason in all his ascetical strivings and mighty struggles against the dæmons upon the island he called upon Bartholomew’s name for aid, after that of Our Lord. Several times the blessed Apostle came to him in visions, and helped him in sundry ways, with both struggles of the soul and struggles of the flesh.

Gúðlác lived in the side of an old heathen barrow of raised earth, which had been broken and plundered by grave-robbers long ere he came. On the unbroken side of the barrow, a rain-cistern had been built, and beside this cistern Gúðlác built his dwelling-place. He clothed himself in animal pelts, and he lived only on barley bread and rain-water, and on that only when the sun had gone down. The dæmons who attacked him tormented him with many trials. With flattery they sought to drive him to extremes of asceticism or to relax his fast altogether. They fell upon him in great numbers in his house, and threw him into the mud of the fens or else into the brambles to tear his flesh. They beat him with iron knouts when he called upon the Lord to save him. They brought him as in a vision to the gates of Hell, where before him all manner of unrighteous men were being tormented, and tried to push him into the fire – and Gúðlác was saved by the intervention of Saint Bartholomew, who ordered the dæmons to deliver him, and not to torment the ascetic again.

On this isle Gúðlác was attacked not only by dæmons but also by more this-worldly foes: Welsh Britons who lived in the Fens, and who grew wroth with this English intruder and sought to kill him or drive him out. The Life describes more ‘dæmons’ who spoke in the Welsh tongue, who came in numbers and burned Gúðlác’s house and tried to attack him with spears. He overcame them only by singing from the Psalter, after which these Welsh-speaking ‘dæmons’ drew off. At another time, a priest named Beccel came to live with Gúðlác, but he was tempted with envy by one of the dæmons, and crept up on Gúðlác to slay him with a knife. But the hermit, seeing through Beccel’s intention, harshly rebuked him and the evil spirit which had lain hold of him; whereupon the dæmon was driven out and tempted priest fell at the hermit’s feet with tears and confessed his sins. Gúðlác not only forgave Beccel, but indeed became his steadfast friend and helper.

Gúðlác made such progress in his ascetic endeavours, and was meek enough in his bearing, that even the wild animals of the fens obeyed him, although some – particularly the ravens – were wont to play him mischief. At one time, a monastic came to Gúðlác to seek his wisdom; having written down some notes, he lay them aside and went out briefly. When he returned, his paper had gone missing, and the monk saw it in the claw of a raven who had borne it off. The monk fell to tears; when Gúðlác beheld this, he consoled the brother and advised him to row in a boat after the raven. The monk did so, and found his paper perched among the reeds as though it had been gently lain there by a human hand; rejoicing, he thankfully took back his notes to Gúðlác, who attributed this finding to God’s mercy. The ravens of Crowland had just such a habit of thieving whatever they could lay their claws on; Gúðlác bore it with patience as an example to his followers. But – much like the hermits of the Russian Thebaïd – the rest of the wild animals and fish and birds of the fens obeyed Saint Gúðlác’s every word, and he fed them from his own hands. One monk named Wilfrið was amazed at the swallows who would come and sit on Gúðlác’s shoulders and arms and knees and sing for him.

At another time, a high-born kinsman of Gúðlác, Æþelbald, accompanied this same Wilfrið to see the holy hermit and converse with him. Having landed on the island he left his gloves in the boat. At once the ravens snatched them up. Gúðlác, to whom this hidden event was known, asked Æþelbald if he had left anything, and Wilfrið answered that they had left his gloves. Then they saw the raven with one of the gloves in his beak, perched on the roof of his house – Gúðlác rebuked the naughty bird, which let fall the glove at once, which Wilfrið retrieved from the roof with a stick. Three men came to Crowland, also by boat, and after their visit they told Gúðlác of a strange thing – another glove had fallen right into their boat from the air, having been dropped by a raven. Gúðlác took the glove from them, smiling, and gave it back to Æþelbald.

Gúðlác was also instrumental in restoring the wits of a good and filial young East Angle named Hwætred, who of a sudden went bear-sark in his father’s house, so that he bit and scratched himself and cut himself with iron in a violent fury. When his kinsmen came to restrain him, Hwætred took an axe and killed three of them with it, and wounded many more. They could do little else but bind him and bring him to the priests, who tried in vain for four years to exorcise him. His kin grieved of Hwætred and even wished him dead rather than in this dæmonic frenzy. But they heard of a hermit living in Crowland, and they brought him there. Gúðlác, hearing their tale, was moved to great pity for the young man, took Hwætred into his house and prayed over him for three days without cease. On the morning of the third day, Gúðlác doused Hwætred in holy water and breathed upon his face, and the might of the heathen spirit was crushed. The lad came back to himself as though he had been asleep, and went back among his wondering kinsmen. He was never to suffer again from the same illness. On another occasion, a thrall named Ecga likewise took leave of his senses under the power of a wicked spirit, and his kinsmen brought him also to Gúðlác. Ecga, Gúðlác cured to health by laying his girdle upon him, and he too was never so afflicted the rest of his days. Gúðlác thus met many sick folk, armly and rich, and not only from Mercia but from sways far beyond, and none departed from him unhealed.

The grace of Christ gave the ascetic Gúðlác great powers of foreknowledge and spiritual insight. At one time, an abbot of Repton came to visit him with two brother-monks in attendance. Before they reached Crowland, the two brother-monks begged to go their own way on needful business, and the abbot agreed. However, when the abbot conversed with Gúðlác, the latter spoke to him that his two attendants were in fact drinking strong drink and carousing in the home of a certain widow. When the abbot met the two brother-monks afterward, he upbraided them for their deception; knowing they had been found out, the two brothers fell at their abbot’s feet, owning that it was just as Gúðlác had said, and begged his forgiveness.

On another occasion two monks came to visit Gúðlác, but they had drunk some ale on the way and hidden the remainder under a grassy knoll to have with them on the return journey. Gúðlác greeted the monks warmly, spoke with them on many spiritual things, and left the monks greatly edified by his words. But as they went to leave, in a laughing good humour the hermit said: ‘Wherefore hid ye the bottles under a knoll, and why brought ye them not with you?’ The two brothers were dumbstruck by this saying, and they fell at Gúðlác’s feet and begged his blessing as they departed.

Another man, a þegn of Æþelbald the Exile named Ofa, came to visit Gúðlác, but on his way there he put his foot through a briar whose thorn pierced his foot straight through. In blinding hurt, Ofa trudged on and found his way to Crowland. By this time, the wound from the thorn had festered, and the infection had caused his nether body to swell from his heel all the way up to his waist, so that he could neither sit nor stand. Ofa told the hermit the tale of how all this had befallen him; and taken with pity Gúðlác stripped off his clothes and bade Ofa wear them. No sooner had Ofa done this but the thorn and shot forth from his body even as an arrow flies, and landed many yards afar off. In the same moment the festering and the pain left Ofa’s body. Ofa lay fully healed, and spent a long time conversing with the hermit in a happy mood, and went forth from the island hale in body and free from any hurt.

Even bishops were drawn to Crowland to benefit from the hermit’s wisdom. Bishop Hædda went forth to see the man of God, and took with him a bright but rather boastful young clerk named Wigfrið, who had spent some time in Ireland, had seen some fraudulent hermits there, and thus thought himself well able to detect whether Gúðlác’s holiness was true or delusional – and he said as much proudly to his master. When Hædda arrived, Gúðlác met him and his whole retinue warmly, and conversed with them all, and did so with such meekness of roust and generosity of spirit that it seemed to them it was not a man standing before them but an angel. Hædda offered to Gúðlác to make him a priestmonk, which eventually Gúðlác accepted as the will of God. But as the bishop made to depart, Gúðlác saw Wigfrið among the host and spoke calmly to him: ‘Now, brother Wigfrið, what sort of man seemeth thee now the priest is, of whom thou saidst yesterday that thou wouldst try whether he were good or bad?’ Wigfrið, stricken with compunction, fell upon his face before the hermit, confessed his fault and begged his forgiveness. This, Gúðlác gladly gave. And so Crowland was hallowed by the Church – five days before the feast-day of Saint Bartholomew.

Another Abbess of Repton, Ecgburg daughter of Ealdwulf King of the East Angles, dearly loved Gúðlác and sent to him the gift of a winding-sheet and a fine coffin with a leaden lining, and asked that when he departed this life for the æternal life of blessedness that he would deign to be placed within it. She also asked him who would tend the holy place of Crowland after this would take place. Gúðlac took this message and gift kindly, and answered her that the man who would take care of his hermitage after his passing was as yet a heathen, and had not yet been dipped in the life-giving waters, but that this would come to pass ere long. Iwis enough, the heathen Cissa soon came to British shores and was taken into the Church.

Not long thereafter, again the aforementioned Æþelbald came to Crowland. This time he was in flight, hounded by Ceolred who was then King of the Mercians, forsaken by all his friends. He sought out Gúðlác for shelter, for guidance and for comfort. And the holy hermit had this to say:

O! my son, I am not forgetful of thy troubles; for this cause I took pity on thee, and for thy troubles I prayed God that he would have pity on thee and support thee; and he has heard my prayer, and he will give thee kingdom and rule over thy people, and they shall flee before thee who hate thee; and thy sword shall destroy all thy adversaries, for the Lord is thy support. But be thou patient, for thou shalt not get the kingdom by means of worldly things, but with the Lord’s help thou shalt get thy kingdom.

With these words and many more Gúðlác gave comfort to the fleeing atheling, and the latter made firm his will to serve God in all things, and not to trust in worldly wealth or power, and to forgive even his enemies and be kind to his friends.

Saint Gúðlác fell ill on the Holy Wednesday of 714. Understanding that his earthly end was near, and that he was being called to Golgotha with Christ, the holy hermit began cheerfully making ready to leave this life for the æternal. For seven days, including the Pascha, he bore the illness, holding the Liturgies of Holy Week each day as he would do were he in the fullness of health, until on Bright Wednesday he reposed in the Lord. During this time, at his side was the same saintly brother Beccel, who gave Felix a full account of the saint’s illness and death. With his last words, Gúðlác bade Beccel to go to his sister Pega’s side, and tell her that her brother had not shown himself before her in this life that they might be united forever in the next, before the face of God – and also instructed her to wind him in the sheet and lay him in the coffin which Abbess Ecgburg had furnished him. On that Bright Wednesday the hermit took the Eucharist for the last time. Upon his death, Beccel saw the house filled with a brightness brighter than noonday, heard on the air the fair rousts of angels in song, smelled a wondrous and sweet smell, and beheld a fiery tower reaching from earth to heaven that put the sun’s light to shame. Amid this, Beccel trembled with holy fear. After this he did everything exactly as Gúðlác had told him to do.

Saint Pega, in great sorrow for her brother’s passing, buried him in Abbess Ecgburg’s garments and coffin, and told the monks and nuns of her Abbey to sing three days of hymns commending his soul to God. Twelve months after, Saint Pega decided to translate her brother’s relics into a more fitting resting-place. Though he had been dead a full year, the brothers and sisters beheld to their amazement that the body of Saint Gúðlác had suffered no corruption nor decay, and was even as lithe and sound as though he were merely asleep. Even the winding-sheet was as fresh and white as the day it had first been put around him. Saint Pega beheld these things with great awe and joy, and with still greater songs of praise she translated him, and even kept Abbess Ecgburg’s coffin in a stead of honour. For in life, the holy hermit had fully repented of his violent and bloody youth: ‘never was aught else in his mouth but Christ’s praise, nor in his heart but virtue, nor in his mind but peace and love and pity’.

Some time after the translation, a boatman in the service of Æþelbald who had for twelve months suffered from blindness as a result of corneal ulcers, was brought before Gúðlác’s resting-place. His friends spoke to Saint Pega, and she led the blind man into the church before Saint Gúðlác’s relics, washed one of his eyes with salt water which had been hallowed by the saint in life. Before she could so rinse the other eye, the sight of both had been restored, and the corneal ulcers had been healed. The boatman went home hale and in full possession of his sight.

Æþelbald of Mercia himself, when he heard of Saint Gúðlác’s death, was stricken with sorrow and hurried to the grave of his old benefactor. He threw himself upon the tomb of the saint and wept bitter tears until he had cried himself to sleep. When he awoke, there was an eerie light all around him, and standing before him was Gúðlác himself, enveloped in the light. Gúðlác’s soul gave words of comfort to the young atheling, telling him not to despair but that in twelve months he would be made ruler in Mercia, and would no longer have to flee and hide for his life. All came to pass in such a fashion. And during his later reign Æþelbald did not forget Gúðlác, but established a holy house for monks, with many buildings, in the saint’s honour.

There is a long-established and well-attested link between the spirituality of the early Celtic hermits and that of the hermits of the Ægyptian desert. That is, indeed, one of the major themes of William Dalrymple’s book! However, Venerable Gúðlác of Crowland’s example demonstrates that this link existed also with the recently-baptised English people, who were eager to learn holiness not only from Rome, but from the rest of the Christian world. Remember that Saint Richard’s destination was not Rome, but Palestine! The fact that Saint Gúðlác’s particular brand of holiness – a bright, cheerful and hospitable holiness; a holiness of labour; a holiness of regular and abstemious but by no means extreme or contorted ascesis – has such a clearly-attested link with Abba Anthony the Great demonstrates this as well. Holy Gúðlác, our venerable and God-bearing father, we beseech your prayers to Christ our God to save us sinners!

Dwelling from thy youth amid trackless and watery wastes, O divinely wise father,
With holy zeal thou didst strive to follow the commandments of Christ.
Wherefore, the ranks of angels were amazed, beholding thee, a man of flesh and blood,
Contending valiantly against the passions, O all-wise one,
And prevailing over all the hordes of the dæmons.
On earth thou wast a peer of the angels,
And in heaven thou art ever an intercessor for mankind.
O venerable Gúðlác, entreat Christ God that He save our souls!