Saint Hugh of Lincoln
(1140-1200)

He was born in Avalon a town in Burgundy, France, in 1140 of a noble family. His father joined a religious order when the boy was only eight, and he took his son with him. It was not uncommon in those days for very young children to be 'offered to God' in this way, and the child oblate had no say in the matter either then or when he was older. Little Hugh was destined for a life of celibacy from a very tender age. He did not seem to object.

When he was 19, the Prior of his order sent him on a mission, and put him in charge of the Priory of St. Maximin, where he became something of a celebrity and increased the revenues substantially. But, if his biographer is to be believed, St Hugh enjoyed the esthetic and contemplative life, and when he was exposed to the way in which the monks live at the Grande Chartreuse, he 'fell in love' with the hours of undisturbed prayer and begged to join the order. Which he did.

But across the water in England things were on the move that would disturb forever Hugh's life of contemplation and prayer. King Henry II had decided to found a Charterhouse and needed monks to staff it. He asked for and got a team from the Grande Chartreuse, who hated the living conditions and only stayed a short while. Taking advice from the Count of Maurienne, the King asked for Hugh to be his new Prior, and, after bringing a lot of pressure on the church authorities, he got him.

Hugh and the King promptly developed a 'love-hate' relationship. Prior Hugh constantly demanded that the King live up to his promises and the King hated it, but was constantly shamed into giving the monks what they wanted, and the Charterhouse at Witham slowly grew and prospered. Hugh's fame and popularity spread, so, when the Archbishop of Canterbury eventually persuaded the King to appoint a bishop for the long vacant see of Lincoln, Prior Hugh was a natural choice.

Unfortunately the Cathedral at Lincoln was in a sorry state. An earthquake had seriously damaged the main buildings the year before, and Hugh had to undertake its rebuilding as his first task. The first stones were laid in 1192, and construction was still in progress when Hugh died. The new Bishop cast a long shadow. His cathedral was famous for its candles, and contemporary chroniclers speak of the multitude of flames that illuminated the inside of the church until 'the brilliance at night vied with daylight'.

Like many saints before him, Hugh would wash, clean, dry and then kiss the feet of lepers and outcasts. It was believed in those days that 'Saint Martin's kiss' (the kiss of a king or holy man) cured leprosy, so this service was popular, but Hugh is credited with saying "With me it is the other way, the lepers' kisses heal my sick soul".

When King Henry died and the famous Richard the Lionheart came to the throne, there was a spate of anti-semitic riots, one at Lincoln. A Lincoln merchant named Aaron had lent money to St. Alban's Abbey and when he wanted it back a mob rioted and chased him into the church, intent on burning him. Hugh stood firm before the altar and 'put the fear of God' into the rioters in a very literal sense. They left without their victim.

Victory in battle was accredited to Hugh's prayers, which pleased King Richard, but the Bishops refusal to send twelve of his best Canons (not the guns, the church kind!) to act as the King's unpaid diplomats, got he King angry at him all over again. The King ordered the confiscation of all Hugh's possessions and sent a knight, Stephen, to carry out the order. Hugh set out to pay a visit to the King, currently warring in France, but before he could talk to his monarch, the King was wounded in battle, and died. Hugh, however, was at the right place at the right time. He attended the funeral of the dead Richard and was part of the slightly devious trick whereby the younger son, John. became the next King of England instead of the rightful Arthur (son of the elder brother).

By this time, however, his royal connections could not help him much more. Hugh had not long to live. In September of his final year, he fell ill and was compelled to rest at home instead of going on one of his many visits. Over the next two months he became steadily worse and he died on Thursday, November 16 just as the sun was setting. Compline had just begun and the monks were singing the Nunc Dimittis: "Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace". It was a fitting ending for an interesting life.