An Archaeological History of Hermitages and Eremitic Communities in Medieval Britain and Beyond [1 ed.] 9780429024559, 9780367110611, 9781032439877

Table of contents :
Cover
Half Title
Series Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Contents
Figures
Acknowledgements
Part I
1. Introduction
Introduction
Notes
References
2. Early Hermits and Hermitages in India: An Overview
Introduction
India
Śramaṇa and Radical Spirituality
The Naked Philosophers
Convention and Constraint: Hermitages and Eremitic Communities in Early Buddhism
References
3. Early Hermits and Hermitages in China, Japan and Tibet: An Overview
China
Taoist and Buddhist Hermits
Early Cave Sites in China
Hermits in the Literary Tradition
Hermits and Hermitages in Early Japan
Hermits and Hermitages in Tibet
References
4. The Desert Hermitage in Early Christianity
The Hermit Ideal: East and West
Pre-Christian Hermits
Early Christian Hermits and Hermitages
Caves, Ruins and Mausolea
Desert Hermits and Eremitic Communities
From Hermitage to Monastery
Beyond Egypt
References
Part II
5. Hermits and Hermitages in the Post-Roman and Early Medieval West: An Overview
St Martin and the Hermitage Retreat
St Benedict and 'Categories' of Hermit
Independent Hermits and Hermitages
References
6. Hermits and Hermitages in Early Medieval Ireland
Ireland and Britain: The Iron Age and the 'New Christianity'
Ireland
St Colman and Irish Cave Hermitages
Eremitic Communities in Early Medieval Ireland
References
7. The Hermits and Hermitages of Early Medieval Britain
Peregrinations and Eremitism
Columban Hermitages
Eileach an Naoimh and Penitential Islands
Hermitage Caves in Scotland
Hermits and Hermitages in Wales and West Britain
Note
References
8. Hermits and Hermitages in Early Medieval England
Historical Overview
The Hermitage of St Cuthbert of Lindisfarne
Anglo-Saxon Hermitages
Hermits and Hermitages in Southwest England
Notes
References
Part III
9. The Religious Context of the Medieval Hermitage
The Inner and Outer Life of the Late Medieval Hermit
Contemplative Texts and Practices
Evocative Spaces: The Landscape and Setting of Medieval Hermitages
Visual Networks and Landscape
Practicalities of the Hermit Life
Dress and Appearance
Diet
Notes
References
10. Hermitages and Hermits in Late Medieval England
Background
Late Medieval Cave Hermitages
Eremitic Communities in Late Medieval England
Collegiate and Chantry Hermitages
Hermitages, Religion and Society
Hermitage Chapels
References
11. Institutional Hermits
Anchorite and Anchorhold
Hermit Friars and Contemplative Monks
The 'New' Hermits
The Carthusians
Notes
References
12. The 'Afterlife' of the Medieval Hermitage
Secular and 'Ornamental' Hermits
Secular Hermits
Contemporary Hermitages and Hermits
References
13. Conclusion
References
Index

Citation preview

Routledge Studies in Archaeology

AN ARCHAEOLOGICAL HISTORY OF HERMITAGES AND EREMITIC COMMUNITIES IN MEDIEVAL BRITAIN AND BEYOND Simon Roffey

An Archaeological History of Hermitages and Eremitic Communities in Medieval Britain and Beyond

Many hermitages and eremitic communities are recorded throughout the medieval period, yet to date, there has been no comprehensive archaeological study. This richly illustrated book will consequently discuss a range of hermitages and introduce the reader to their architectural forms, spaces, location and environments as well as the religious practices associated with them. It will focus primarily on the British material but will nonetheless consider this within a wider comparative framework. Overall, it will offer an archaeological history of hermitages and presents a unique window into a lost world of medieval spirituality and religious life. Key related themes will include the earliest archaeological evidence for hermits (eremitic life) in India, China and East Asia, pre- and early Christian desert hermitages, cave hermitages, eremitic communities, saints and missionary hermits, life and diet, medieval mysticism and the contemplative tradition, secular and ornamental hermitages and hermits in post-medieval and contemporary society. This book offers an illustrated archaeological history of hermitages and eremitic communities, with reference to key examples and case studies. It will therefore appeal to both academics, students and a more general readership interested in archaeology, history, comparative religion, architecture, religion and belief, spirituality, medieval Britain, modern contemplative practice and contemporary heritage issues. Dr Simon Roffey has published a number of books and articles on medieval ar­ chaeology, particularly in the area of medieval religion and belief. He has directed surveys and excavations on a wide range of ecclesiastical sites including the site of St Mary Magdalen, Winchester, the country’s earliest excavated leprosy hospital. He is a Reader in Medieval Archaeology at the University of Winchester, and a former University Buddhist Chaplain. He is a Fellow of the Royal Asiatic Society, the Society of Antiquaries and the Royal Historical Society and has previously served in the Royal Navy Submarine Service.

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An Archaeological History of Hermitages and Eremitic Communities in Medieval Britain and Beyond Simon Roffey

First published 2023 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2023 Simon Roffey The right of Simon Roffey to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN: 978-0-367-11061-1 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-43987-7 (pbk) ISBN: 978-0-429-02455-9 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9780429024559 Typeset in Times New Roman by MPS Limited, Dehradun

This book is dedicated to my wife, Suna.

Contents

List of Figures Acknowledgements PART I

1 Introduction Introduction 3 2 Early Hermits and Hermitages in India: An Overview Introduction 11 India 12 Śramaṇas and Radical Spirituality 12 The Naked Philosophers 16 Convention and Constraint: Hermitages and Eremitic Communities in Early Buddhism 17 3 Early Hermits and Hermitages in China, Japan and Tibet: An Overview China 24 Taoist and Buddhist Hermits 25 Early Cave Sites in China 26 Hermits in the Literary Tradition 28 Hermits and Hermitages in Early Japan 29 Hermits and Hermitages in Tibet 31 4 The Desert Hermitage in Early Christianity The Hermit Ideal: East and West 33 Pre-Christian Hermits 35 Early Christian Hermits and Hermitages 37 Caves, Ruins and Mausolea 38

x xiv 1 3

11

24

33

viii

Contents Desert Hermits and Eremitic Communities 40 From Hermitage to Monastery 42 Beyond Egypt 44

PART II

5 Hermits and Hermitages in the Post-Roman and Early Medieval West: An Overview St Martin and the Hermitage Retreat 52 St Benedict and ‘Categories’ of Hermit 54 Independent Hermits and Hermitages 57

49

51

6 Hermits and Hermitages in Early Medieval Ireland Ireland and Britain: The Iron Age and the ‘New Christianity’ 61 Ireland 64 St Colman and Irish Cave Hermitages 66 Eremitic Communities in Early Medieval Ireland 69

61

7 The Hermits and Hermitages of Early Medieval Britain Peregrinations and Eremitism 79 Columban Hermitages 82 Eileach an Naoimh and Penitential Islands 83 Hermitage Caves in Scotland 90 Hermits and Hermitages in Wales and West Britain 93

79

8 Hermits and Hermitages in Early Medieval England Historical Overview 102 The Hermitage of St Cuthbert of Lindisfarne 103 Anglo-Saxon Hermitages 106 Hermits and Hermitages in Southwest England 112 PART III

9 The Religious Context of the Medieval Hermitage The Inner and Outer Life of the Late Medieval Hermit 119 Contemplative Texts and Practices 122 Evocative Spaces: The Landscape and Setting of Medieval Hermitages 126 Visual Networks and Landscape 131 Practicalities of the Hermit Life 132

102

117 119

Contents

ix

Dress and Appearance 133 Diet 136 10 Hermitages and Hermits in Late Medieval England Background 142 Late Medieval Cave Hermitages 143 Eremitic Communities in Late Medieval England 152 Collegiate and Chantry Hermitages 155 Hermitages, Religion and Society 159 Hermitage Chapels 160

142

11 Institutional Hermits Anchorite and Anchorhold 166 Hermit Friars and Contemplative Monks 174 The ‘New’ Hermits 175 The Carthusians 177

166

12 The ‘Afterlife’ of the Medieval Hermitage Secular and ‘Ornamental’ hermits 183 Secular Hermits 186 Contemporary Hermitages and Hermits 188

182

13 Conclusion

193

Index

196

Figures

2.1

2.2 2.3 2.4 2.5 3.1 3.2 3.3 4.1

4.2 4.3 5.1

5.2 6.1 6.2 6.3

Barabar Hill with Sudama and Lomas Rishi caves with later Ashokan period entrance (1870) (Public Domain, Copyright Expired) Kanheri Caves, Mumbai Hermit caves at Kanheri Hermit cave at Kanheri Plan of cave complex at Kanheri (Gazetteer of the Bombay Presidency, 1896, by James M. Campbell) Caves 82–85 at Kizil, Xinjiang, China (c. 1902–14) (Albert Grünwedel) Plan of caves at Kizil. ED (Cave 82), C (Cave 83), B (Cave 84) and A (Cave 85). (Public Domain) The temple of of Sanbutsu-ji, Misasa, Japan (Copyright © 2003 David Monniaux) Two-room hermit’s cave in the cliffs just east of the Jordan River on the site of Bethany Beyond the Jordan (David Stanley) Remains of former eremitic communities at Kellia, Egypt Remains of column and base of St Simeon at Saint Simeon Stylites Basilica, near Aleppo, Syria View of the cave of St. Benedetto with statue of the saint made by Antonio Raggi (or Antonio Lombardo) (1624– 1686). Monastery of Saint Benedetto (Sacro Speco), Subiaco (Rome), Italy Interior of cave at Gurat, Charente, southwest France (Jack Ma 2009) The Island of Great Skellig/ Skellig Michael, Kerry, Ireland Site of Colman’s hermitage and later oratory, the Burren, County Clare, Ireland Colman’s Cave, the Burren

14 19 20 20 21 27 27 30

36 44 45

55 58 62 67 68

Figures 6.4 The monastery of Skellig Michael looking towards Little Skellig and the Irish coast 6.5 Beehive huts at Skellig Michael 6.6 South Peak, Skellig Michael. The enclosure of the hermitage can be seen near the top of the peak 6.7 Killabuonia, County Kerry 6.8 Remains of beehive hut at Killabuonia 7.1 ‘Curragh’ from Kilmartin Glen Museum, Argyll and Bute 7.2 Iona Abbey with the rocky outcrop of the Tór an Abba of Columba 7.3 Natural harbour on Eileach an Naoimh, Argyll and Bute, looking towards Jura in the distance 7.4 Early beehive huts at Eileach an Naoimh 7.5 Eithne’s grave memorial, Eileach an Naoimh 7.6 Remains of monastic buildings, Eileach an Naoimh 7.7 Underground cell, possibly for penetential use, Eileach an Naoimh 7.8 Remains of eremitic monastery, Sgorr Nam Ban-naomha (Cliff of the Women), Canna, Inner Hebrides (© HES) 7.9 Plan of eremitic monastery, Sgorr Nam Ban-naomha (Cliff of the Women), Canna, Inner Hebrides (© Crown Copyright: HES) 7.10 Columba’s Cave near Ellary on Loch Caolisport 7.11 Cave associated with St Columba, Keil Point on the southern tip of Kintyre peninsula 7.12 The island hermitage of Burry Holms, Rhossili Bay, Wales 7.13 Remains of chapel, Burry Holms 7.14 Hermitage and Chapel, St Govan’s Head, Pembrokeshire, Wales 7.15 Interior of St Govan’s hermitage looking east showing altar and doorway through to the cave 7.16 Inscribed stones of 5th or 6th century date from Lundy Island 8.1 The Island of Inner Farne, Northumbria 8.2 St Cuthbert’s chapel, Inner Farne 8.3 Herbert’s Island, Derwentwater, Cumbria 8.4 Possible site of Guthlac’s Hermitage, Crowland, Suffolk 8.5 Possible former location of St Pega’s hermitage, Peakirk, Cambridgeshire 8.6 Glastonbury Tor, Somerset 9.1 Carved Christ on the Cross above natural stone altar/ prayer desk, Cratcliffe Hermitage, Derbyshire 9.2 Cave hermitage entrance, Pontefract, North Yorkshire

xi 72 72 73 75 76 81 82 84 85 86 86 87 89

89 91 92 94 95 96 97 98 104 106 107 109 111 114 121 128

xii Figures 9.3 9.4 9.5

9.6 9.7 10.1 10.2 10.3 10.4 10.5 10.6 10.7 10.8 10.9 10.10 10.11 10.12 10.13 10.14 10.15 10.16 10.17 10.18 10.19 10.20 10.21 11.1

The dramatic and evocative landscape of the River Nidd, Knaresborough, North Yorkshire ‘The Hairy Hermit’. Detail from 14th-century wall painting from St Hubert’s Church, Idsworth, Hampshire Man bringing a letter to a hermit in a cave from the Smithfield Decretals (Royal 10 E IV), c. 1300–1340 (British Library) Post holes on the cave wall of the hermitage at Bridgnorth, Shropshire Redstone, Worcestershire Cratcliffe Rocks, Derbyshire Cratcliffe hermitage Hermitages at Redstone, Worcestershire. Evidence for post-holes suggests the former presence of stairs or galleries Cave hermitage of St Robert, Knaresborough, North Yorkshire Knaresborough, showing bench and recess as evidence for a former structure Foundations of hermitage chapel, Knaresborough The interior of the cave hermitage at Knaresborough Former Pontefract Dispensary now derelict Entrance to Pontefract hermitage Interior of the oratory at Pontefract showing fireplace and bench/bed View of the former river valley looking towards the Dispensary building at the top of the ridge Hermitage at Guy’s Cliffe, Warwick, Warwickshire Hermitage caves at Bridgnorth, Shropshire Bridgnorth hermitage showing eroded archway and stair doorway Antiquarian photograph of Bridgnorth hermitage showing evidence for Romanesque arch, stairway door and interior ‘Cloisters’ at Guy’s Cliffe hermitage Warkworth Hermitage with later ground floor domestic buildings 1783 Antiquarian plan of Warkworth hermitage (1783) showing the main chapel (right) and adjacent oratory Interior of the chapel at Warkworth Hermitage showing carved vault, altar and niche St Stephens gate, Norwich in 1861. Note the ground floor doorway (Ninham 1861) St Catherine’s Lighthouse, Isle of Wight Possible evidence of a former chapel or anchorite cell visible in the fabric of the chancel wall of St Lawrence’s, Stratford-sub-Castle, Wiltshire

129 135

136 137 138 144 145 145 146 147 147 148 149 150 151 151 152 154 154 155 156 157 157 158 162 163

168

Figures xiii 11.2 Blocked squint in north chancel wall at St Lawrence’s, Stratford-sub-Castle, Wiltshire 11.3 Cruciform squint between anchorite cell and chancel at St Nicholas, Compton, Surrey 11.4 Anchorite cell, St Nicholas, Compton church 11.5 Prayer desk in anchorite cell, St Nicholas, Compton 11.6 Anker’s House at Chester-le-Street, Co. Durham 11.7 Mount Grace Priory, North Yorkshire. Remains of cloister range and entrances to former cells with the church in the background 11.8 Mount Grace Priory great cloister with reconstructed cell 11.9 Mount Grace Priory. Former garden area and side wall of the house 12.1 Derelict cave at Bridgnorth 12.2 Ornamental hermitage at Stowe, Buckinghamshire (Public Domain) 12.3 Ornamental Hermitage at Selborne, Hampshire, with Henry White as the hermit (1777) (Samuel Hieronymus Grimm 1777) 12.4 The ‘Hermetic retreat’ from Wrighte’s ‘Grotesque Architecture or Rural Amusement’ (1790) (William Wrighte 1790) 12.5 Carthusian ‘cells’ and church at St Hugh’s Charterhouse, Parkminster, West Sussex 12.6 The ‘Kuti’ solitary retreat hut at Gaia House, Buddhist retreat centre, West Ogwell, Devon

169 169 171 172 172

177 178 179 183 185

186

187 190 191

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank the Society of Antiquaries, London and the University of Winchester who provided initial funding for the fieldwork elements of this book and the production team at Routledge/Taylor Francis and also to Nicola King for compiling the index. Thanks also to my family who have accompanied me (voluntarily) on some of my research visits, and to Dr Alex Langlands for introducing me to the archaeology of Rhossili Bay and the hermitage at Burry Holms. Much gratitude also to Sandy Chubb for support and inspiration along the way. This book has relied on visiting and gaining access to many hermitage sites and I am particularly indebted to the Historic Environment Scotland for a tour of Iona Abbey and to the Pontefract Heritage Partnership for allowing private access to the Pontefract Hermitage. Some field visits necessitated sea travel and here I am particularly grateful to Seafari Adventures (Oban) Ltd for the charter trip to the island of Eileach an Naoimh, to the crew of the ‘Celtic Victor’ for passage to Skellig Michael, the Landmark Trust for the Isle of Lundy and to Billy Shiel’s Boats for the journey to the Farne Islands. Note on abbreviations. To avoid confusion and to give consistency between chapters I have used the chronological identifiers of BC and AD. ‘AD’ is not used for dates after AD 1000.

Part I

1

Introduction

Introduction To find a solitary place to be undisturbed by the world is a quest that has preoccupied the religious for many centuries, and has found home in the deserts, forests, mountains, cliffs and seas across the globe. It has occupied both those of faith and those of a more secular persuasion. It has inspired artists and poets and encouraged new modes of life and of being in the world. For centuries, men and women have withdrawn from the world to become hermits. Contemplatives and mystics have sought out silence and solitude as gateways to an experience of the divine, self-knowledge or Enlightenment. Others simply retire or retreat from a society or institution to seek rest, recuperation or renewed inspiration. The importance of the solitary (eremitic) religious life has likewise been celebrated through the works of religious writers throughout history, being often held as the religious vocation par excellence. In Britain, the main focus of this study, it is therefore somewhat surprising that comparatively little is known about the specific material context of the hermit life, the caves, cells, chapels and retreats of the medieval religious recluse. A large number of hermitages, eremitic communities and anchorite cells are recorded throughout the medieval period, yet to date there has been no comprehensive archaeological study directed at these important monuments. Furthermore, there has been no real examination of how such institutions functioned in practice; how their spaces, location and environments were shaped and perceived by medieval hermits. This book seeks to address these lacunae, and whilst focusing primarily on the British material will nonetheless consider this within a wider comparative context. Consequently, this study will present a broad collection of examples to explore through archaeological approaches, including the examination of form, fabric, space and landscape as well as aspects of related medieval spirituality and religious life. This study should first be caveated with a personal admission. My main academic interest over the last 25 years has been in the area of medieval Christian religion and belief. However, this study, although being a work of archaeological, academic research, is nonetheless informed by over 30 years DOI: 10.4324/9780429024559-2

4 Part I of personal involvement in both Western and Eastern contemplative traditions.1 This requires noting since the study is somewhat inevitably and unapologetically coloured by my own interest in contemplative practice2 and the wish to uncover something of the contemplative life and religious experience of the hermit as reflected in the rich and varied evidence for their residences. In this sense, the study also offers an anthropological perspective to the tradition. Its framework is academic, but this work will not be confined to purely objective analysis and interpretation. It will, at times, also offer a more subjective view and attempt to give a holistic insight into the life of the hermit. It will draw on the work of archaeologists and historians, but also hermits and contemplatives both ancient and modern. Underlying a focus on the materiality, this book also unveils aspects of an intangible heritage of contemplative tradition and practice through the physical and material culture of its context. It has a primary focus on the British medieval hermit tradition, yet nonetheless examines this tradition within the wider comparative traditions that have come before it, and have arrived since. As an archaeology, it is less concerned with the historical documentation but more directly concerned with the physical evidence and material culture of the hermit and the residences, retreats, landscapes and objects of the eremitic life. The quest for solitude can leave its mark in those places and habitations created, organised and located to best bring about the practice of contemplation in reclusion and the articulation of religious experience. And in this study hermitages are not defined as isolated places that encouraged sensory deprivation or abject asceticism. But rather, hermitages are viewed as spaces that were pregnant with boundless possibilities, a context for more sensitive enquiry and inner contemplation and the living of a distinct religious vocation. As the ancient Psalm 65 said, ‘Silence is praise to you, O God’. And in this light, silence is not free of sound. The silence afforded by solitude is the unadulterated space that holds the rhythm of religious music, litany and prayer. Silence frames and embraces the resonance of life, natural and human made. In this broader sense, silence and solitude can perhaps be seen as an attempt to escape from the unnecessary, from the chaos and noise, from mental clutter and the vicissitudes of a secularised or overregulated life that are inimical to the spiritual life. A life that mostly, though not exclusively, necessitates private withdrawal and relative isolation. And here, we should be clear that that the hermit life does not necessarily mean total and physical withdrawal and isolation, and in perpetuity. Rather it is a sense of retreating, sometimes temporarily, from the busyness of normal experience whether that be monastic, urban or familial. In this context eremitic life offered a dedicated opportunity to deepen spiritual practice and one’s relationship with ultimate reality or the divine. Throughout the medieval period eremitism was a common religious vocation. Consequently, there is a significant survival of the medieval literature relating to the lives of hermits and anchorites. Many contemporary accounts survive from the medieval period and much academic debate has been

Introduction

5

concerned with these documentary sources. This has ranged from personal accounts and writings, through to rules and regulations, as well as incidental descriptions and references. This historical documentation has therefore been the focus of much academic research. This study is going to depart somewhat from academic custom and will not provide an in-depth review and critique of the literature. This has been done, for the historical material, and repetition here offers nothing new to the study of the archaeology. Historical sources, where relevant, will be referred to in the text and generally specific to the material culture of which is the main subject of this book. When taken together such historical studies illustrate the detail and breadth to which the study of hermits and anchorites has been subject. That being said, much of the emphasis within academic study has almost wholly focused on these documentary sources, important as they are. Moreover, this focus has also been predominately on the post-Conquest period (ie c. AD 1100 onwards), due to the relative survival of the material and the documentary evidence. One of the earliest historical surveys of medieval hermits is Rotha Mary Clay’s Hermits and Anchorites of England first published in 1914, which originally included a tabulated list of anchorite cells (Clay 2014). Other historical studies which have followed include, for example, Tom Licence’s Hermits and Recluses in English Society (2011), Wolfgang Riehle’s The Secret Within (2014), and the edited volume by Cate Gunn and Liz Herbert McAvoy Medieval Anchorites in Their Communities (2017), all which largely draw on the historical sources. Likewise, both Mari Hughes-Edwards’ Reading Medieval Anchoritism (2012) and Anne Warren’s Anchorites and Their Patrons in Medieval England (1985) focus primarily on literary sources for anchorites with some reference to surviving examples, whilst Eddie Jones’ (2019) study examines the documented lives and activities of hermits and anchorites. There was a strong link between monasteries and hermitages throughout the medieval period and this relationship has been the subject of Henrietta Leyser’s Hermits and the New Monasticism (1984). Furthermore, one recent study provides a much-needed broader historical view of hermits from antiquity through to the present day in a global context (Rodriguez 2021). There is a relatively good representative survival of archaeological remains from many former hermitage sites and eremitic monasteries from the medieval period. Despite the loss of many hermitages and related sites since the Reformation archaeology can be of value in helping to both identify former sites and to further investigate their form and fabric. This presents an opportunity to harvest a more nuanced understanding of these important religious institutions. In Britain and Ireland, over 700 hermitages and anchorite cells are recorded in the medieval period, yet to date there has been no comprehensive archaeological study directed at these important monuments. This is somewhat surprising especially considering the number and nature of physical survivals, and consequently what archaeology can potentially contribute to the study of these monuments. Roberta Gilchrist’s Contemplation

6 Part I and Action (1995) presents the only dedicated survey of the archaeological evidence, and although limited to a single chapter, illustrates the potential for a more comprehensive survey of the archaeological evidence. Gilchrist’s Gender and Material Culture (1997) examines female monasticism, including anchorites, with reference to the relationship between gender, architecture and space and illustrates the important contribution that archaeology can bring to the study of religious spaces and architectural context. Much historical research has focused on anchorites, to the extent that we have comparatively more knowledge about these institutions than we do the wider eremitic tradition that precipitated them. Consequently, the anchoritic tradition will not be discussed in any great depth within this book except in the context of institutional eremitism where we will consider its place in the wider archaeological history of hermitages. The remains of many cells and hermitages are admittedly fragmentary, but an archaeological approach can help to interpret their former spaces and environments, as well as potentially identify examples not recorded in contemporary documents. Furthermore, contemporary initiatives and developments in the field of archaeological theory have introduced a range of methods and techniques with which to investigate medieval archaeological sites, and to provide a more interpretative and holistic framework for the investigation of space and related human activity. Such studies, which have focused on a diverse range of medieval monuments including castles, domestic buildings, churches and chapels have sought to provide explanatory frameworks and have allowed for a more nuanced investigation into how such monuments, and their landscapes, ‘worked’ in practice. In this study, this will include aspects such as comparative context, spatial and sensory relationships, proxemics and architectural setting (ie Roffey 2008, 2018). This investigation will also involve a consideration of more intangible elements and the relevance of wider environmental and cosmological factors such as the sky, seascapes, subterranea and the interplay between light and dark. For example, darkness was intimately connected to people in the past: the experience of the seasons and dark landscapes as well as perhaps ‘transformative religious rites which often took place in dark locations away from the wider community’ (Hensey 2016, 8–9), which may naturally include cave hermitages and the rites and practices enacted within them. Overall, the terms ‘hermit’ and ‘hermitage’ will be used generically, and will refer to an individual or individuals, both men and women, who lived an eremitical life in a religious context. The hermit was also one who embraced an element of free choice. In this light, he or she can only properly be called ‘a hermit’ if their actions followed from a moral or religious decision rather than merely pressures of circumstance, such as, for example, nomadism or vagrancy (Vervoorn 1990, 4). This study will also define ‘eremitic communities’ as different from ‘cenobitic monasteries’. In the former, there was a marked emphasis on either isolation or solitude often exhibited by the location and specific arrangements of the community and the nature and

Introduction

7

direction of its spiritual life. In this light, such hermitages can perhaps be technically defined, as they have by others, as ‘communal hermitages’ or ‘eremitic monasteries’ (ie Thomas 1971, 44–47, Fisher 1997, 190). This study will also argue that the eremitic monastery was a model which arguably represented the most persistent and visible one in the history of hermitages. In the Christian tradition, such ‘conjugal solitude’ (Freeman in Williams 2011, 13) was one of the first such models in early Christianity. As both contemporary Christian contemplative teacher, Father Laurence Freeman, and former Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams note, here were individuals who ‘loved and sought solitude’ but ‘they were also persons held in a network of realistic relationships in community’ (Freeman in Williams 2011, 8). The importance of social context will be explored more widely throughout this book and it will be argued that very few hermitages were in fact completely isolated from society or social contact and interaction. The broader aim of this book is to provide an archaeological history of the British hermit tradition in the medieval period and beyond. By beyond, it is meant both beyond Britain, and beyond the narrow timescale of the socalled ‘medieval’ period (c. AD 450–AD 1550). In archaeology, concerned more with materiality rather than pre-defined chronology, such restrictive labels and periodisation can sometimes be unhelpful and ultimately mean that we cannot understand traditions or movements- and their monumentsin their full context, and thus we cannot understand them fully. In this light, British eremitism cannot be examined without reference to the tradition: the social, historical and religious framework behind its comparative manifestation in a particular place and time. Therefore, this book will include examples drawn from the direct historical and inspirational wellspring of the desert fathers and mothers of 3rd- and 4th-century AD Egypt. It will also trace the physical evidence for the eremitic ideal as it advanced throughout post-Roman and early medieval Europe. Here, this study is not intended to provide a comprehensive survey of all medieval European sites. Rather it is the intention of this study to provide an overview and forensic focus on those sites that survive in some condition or were representative of key religious developments or personages. And, despite the broad chronological trajectory of the study, each chapter, rather, serves to articulate a theme within the archaeological hisory of hermitages. The hermit was a universal ideal and ultimately, this study will argue that the true origin of the hermit ideal lies indirectly in the renunciate movements of 1st millennium BC India. This comparison is not simply arbitrary as it has been put forward that the practices of the early Buddhist monastics of India, and those of the desert fathers and mothers of Egypt and Syria are of related consequence since ‘these two movements are considered to have catalysed the monastic tradition as such within both faiths’ (Boisvert 1992, 123). Furthermore, in purely archaeological terms the material culture of both hermit traditions is comparative, particularly with reference to cave sites. The focus on Buddhism and Christianity is also relevant in terms that it is these two

8 Part I religious traditions that ‘most conspicuously foster monasticism’ which can here be defined as a ‘single-minded commitment to religious life conducted apart from the surrounding society’ (Johnston 2000, xi); a definition that naturally includes monasticism’s solitary facet of eremitism. Both religious traditions also offered a wide range of varied eremitic practices, spaces and institutions which enable us to have a broad insight into the diverse and fascinating manifestations of the hermit life. In Christianity and Buddhism, the search for solitude was, and is, the preeminent and possibly universal paradigm for the perfect spiritual vocation and resided at the heart of a more authentic religious life and experience. However, this study does not attempt to propose a direct link between the Eastern and Western religion. Rather, it demonstrates an ancestry that shows that the practice of spiritual renunciation and physical withdrawal was a common theme within religious tradition and represented a specific requirement for a more personalised response, or call, to solitary or private religious practice. Moreover, the practice of eremitism in contemporary society is considerably influenced by both Western and Eastern spirituality. In this light, the book purports to explore the archaeological lineage and tradition of hermits and their hermitages rather than a historical or theological one where the emphasis might be on the development of comparative ideology. Thus, with an emphasis on materiality, this book safely navigates the archaeological history of hermitages throughout time and within geographical and comparative religious contexts. Here archaeology can allow us to look at the form, fabric and typologies of hermitages without having to form potentially problematic connections between different religious traditions. Ultimately all terms and historical manifestations of eremitism ‘share a commitment to hidden life of asceticism and contemplation’ (Jones 2000, 583). Consequently, this study is concerned with how the paradigm, model or ideal of the hermit was manifested within different social, religious and cultural contexts in providing for a physical and religious (or perhaps psychological) experience of relative solitude. This religious experience of solitude can be complemented by a wide range of contemplative and mystical writings, as well as guides and rules which can give a potential insight into the inner experiences of the medieval hermit. As well as the archaeology, this book will therefore consider related and specific documentary sources that support an investigation into the use of hermitages and the religious lives of their hermits. This will include hermit rules and regulations, and mystical texts that focused on a range of spiritual exercises and devotional and contemplative practices, as well as visual media such as wall paintings and manuscript illumination which can give insights into diet, dress and the more practical aspects of the hermit life. In almost all hermitage examples landscape and setting was an important aspect. The landscapes did not just provide a suitable environment for solitude, isolation and withdrawal, but also embedded the hermit’s experience within the raw elemental, the mystical and mysterious. The hermit’s environment was varied and ranged from desert, hills, mountains, rivers, forests,

Introduction

9

coasts and islands and even towns and villages. Each setting would have provided its own, often unique, experience, which we will explore throughout this book. Despite religious reformations, modernisation and increased secularism, the universal call of the hermit, the inexorable impulse for spiritual solitude, was never to truly diminish and was to continue to flourish within renewed expressions of the religious life and forged by the impact of new religious movements, as well as new secularised forms of eremitic lifestyle, including the ‘ornamental’ and ‘garden’ hermit. This book will conclude with a consideration of the rich evidence for the ‘afterlife’ of the medieval hermitage in Britain between the late 16th and 20th centuries and consider the legacy of the medieval hermit within the history of contemplative tradition. There is an increasing popular interest in contemporary contemplative practice, meditation and mindfulness in the modern West. Very often, these are viewed as ‘new’ developments, largely drawn from the East but having no real tradition or precursor in the West. Such assertions are incorrect, and a largely due to an unfamiliarity of the Western contemplative tradition. Here we will seek to address this and recognise that the hermit tradition is still alive and well and finds its place in an ever-growing popularity of contemplative practice in the West. The contemporary interest in contemplative practice has given rise to a range of different contexts for exploring a more ‘studied’ life including silent and solitary retreats. Much of this recent impetus has nonetheless drawn inspiration from Eastern practices, specifically meditation and mindfulness. And here we have come full circle. For the earliest archaeological manifestations of the hermit, and one that represented a new spiritual calling, can be found in Iron Age India, principally in the hermitages and rainy retreats of Buddhist renunciates who represented new creative forms of spiritual expression and religious vocation. And it is here in the hot dusty plains, river valleys and jungles of Northern India, that we shall begin our journey.

Notes 1 This experience includes time spent on silent and solitary retreats. 2 On which I have published previously, see, for example, Bonnardel, Biddington, May, Jones and Roffey (2018).

References Boisvert, M. (1992) ‘A Comparison of the Early Forms of Buddhist and Christian Monastic Traditions’, Buddhist-Christian Studies, 12, 123–141. Bonnardel, V., Biddington, T., May, B., Jones, R., and Roffey, S. (2018) ‘Toward the Implementation of Contemplative Practices in Higher Education’, Journal of Perspectives in Applied Academic Practice, 6 (3), 3–13. Clay, R. M. (2014) Hermits and Anchorites of England, P. Campbell (ed.). Howell, MI: Cruachan Hill Press.

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Fisher, I. (1997) ‘Early Christian Archaeology in Argyll’, in G. Ritchie (ed.), The Archaeology of Argyll. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 181–204. Freeman, L. (2011) ‘Introduction’, in R. Williams (ed.), Silence and Honey Cakes: The Wisdom of the Desert (Electronic Edition). Oxford: Lion Books, 7–14. Gilchrist, R. (1995) Contemplation and Action: The Other Monasticism. Leicester: Leicester University Press. Gilchrist, R. (1997) Gender and Material Culture: The Archaeology of Religious Women. London and New York: Routledge. Gunn, C. and Herbert McAvoy, L. (eds.) (2017) Medieval Anchorites in Their Communities (Studies in the History of Medieval Religion 45). Woodbridge: Boydell Press. Hensey, R. (2016) ‘Past Dark: A Short Introduction to the Human Relationship with Darkness’, in M. Dowd and R. Hensey (eds.) The Archaeology of Darkness. Oxford: Oxbow, 1–10. Hughes-Edwards, M. (2012) Reading Medieval Anchoritism: Ideology and Spiritual Practices. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Johnston, W. M. (ed.) (2000) Encyclopedia of Monasticism. London and New York: Routledge. Jones, E. A. (2000) ‘Hermits: Western Christian’, in W. M. Johnston (ed.), Encyclopedia of Monasticism. London and New York: Routledge, 583–585. Jones, E. A. (2019) Hermits and Anchorites in England, 1200–1550. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Leyser, H. (1984) Hermits and the New Monasticism: A Study of Religious Communities in Western Europe 1000–1150. London: Macmillan. Licence, T. (2011) Hermits and Recluses in English Society, 950–1200. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Riehle, W. (2014) The Secret Within: Hermits, Recluses, and Spiritual Outsiders in Medieval England, trans. Charity Scott-Stokes. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Rodriguez, R. (2021) The Book of Hermits: A History of Hermits from Antiquity to the Present Day. Hermitary Press. Roffey, S. (2008) Chantry Chapels and Medieval Strategies for the Afterlife. Stroud: Tempus. Roffey, S. (2018) ‘The Medieval Afterlife’, in C. Gerrard and A. Gutierrez (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Later Medieval Archaeology, 868–888.Oxford: Oxford University Press. Thomas, A. C. (1971) The Early Christian Archaeology of North Britain. Oxford. Oxford University Press. Vervoorn, A. (1990) The Men of the Cliffs and Caves: Development of the Chinese Eremitic Tradition to the End of the Han Dynasty. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press. Warren, A. K. (1985) Anchorites and Their Patrons in Medieval England. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press.

2

Early Hermits and Hermitages in India: An Overview

Introduction From its earliest manifestations the eremitic life was one that not only embraced a life of solitude, but also the unfettered freedom of a new spiritual calling. The early hermitages that we shall consider in this chapter were often connected with men and women who represented new creative forms of spiritual expression and religious vocation, which was often at variance with traditional orthodoxy. In exploring a range of precursors, it is the intention of his chapter to show that the medieval hermit tradition is by no means a stand alone, preeminently Christian, expression of the soli­ tary ideal. It had an ancestry, which although not having direct evolutionary relation was nonetheless a formative part of the rich broader tradition of the hermit and its archaeological history. Any book that seeks to investigate hermitages will necessarily focus, to some extent, on the Christian and Buddhist traditions. This is because it is perhaps within the framework of Christianity and Buddhism that the hermit tradition found a natural home. This is not to preclude any other religious tradition and certainly elements of solitude and eremitism can be found in all religions, as well as secular lifestyles. But the eremitic life was often re­ lated to the monastic ideal which was a central force within both Buddhism and Christianity (MacCulloch 2009, 200). Consequently, it was these re­ ligions that both inspired and empowered the eremitic life. Hermitages were thus an integral component of these religions, and indeed were often the earliest manifestations of institutional life within them. Moreover, it was probably since eremitism was a key component of these religions that the surviving evidence is relatively profuse and reasonably well-preserved, since both religions survive today. Throughout their histories these religions continually emphasised the importance of a solitary life that was often not in contention with communal religion, but a further dimension of spiritual life. Furthermore, in both traditions the eremitic life was often perceived as a shift away from traditionalism or orthodox conformity. For the early Christian desert fathers and mothers, it was perhaps the post-Roman ‘civilised’ world, as well as, in some cases, religious persecution. For the Buddhist hermits, and DOI: 10.4324/9780429024559-3

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similar renunciate groups, such as the Jains and Ajivakas, it was a reaction to religious orthodoxy and hierarchy. In this light, the hermit represented a re­ actionary force and certainly the earliest archaeological evidence from India, the birthplace of Buddhism, supports this suggestion.

India Northern India in the 6th and 5th centuries BC was a complex and urbanised society. Excavations at several important sites such as Indraprasta, Hastinapur and Pataliputra have revealed well-organised towns with ordered street plans, public buildings and a diverse economic base. These societies were underpinned by Brahmanism, a sacrificial religion that emerged in postVedic India around c. 900 BC. Brahmanism was controlled by a dominant priesthood and emphasised and supported a distinct social hierarchy. But it also valued the lifestyle of the traditional householder, and in this context it was recognised that renunciation was an important, if not necessary, component of a full spiritual life. These early hermits, some of whom may have lived solitary lives or in small eremitic communities, were part of what has been termed the assama/ā ś rama system (Olivelle 1993). This was a system fundamentally devised to reconcile two different approaches to a spiritual life: that of the householder and that of the renunciate, the latter being undertaken by a person of advanced years, presumably once familial duties had been concluded and after a period of study (Olivelle 1993, 121). Assama/ā ś rama are known from early references in the epic 5th-century BC poem Ramayana (Olivelle 1993, 103) as well as the early Buddhist Pali Canon, compiled by the 1st century BC but representing an earlier oral tradition. The development of solitary practices led, for some, a move away from communal-based rituals and the appeasement of gods and goddesses, to practices concerned with individual liberation such as meditation, asceticism and renunciation. Religious works such as the Upanishads, one of the most important collections of transformative and practical teachings, took tradi­ tional ideas of communal and priestly ritual, often involving sacrifice, and internalised them, teaching the ‘sacrifice’ of the ego or the ‘self’ through selfknowledge, action (karma yoga) and wisdom (jnana yoga). In this context renunciation and asceticism were fundamental practices and these teachings inevitably had an impact on forms of renunciant life that emerged in the middle of the 1st millennium BC. These renunciant movements, particularly in the form of the śramaṇa, offered a context for spiritual exploration as well as re­ lative independence from social norms and the constraints of orthodox religion.

Śramaṇa and Radical Spirituality The śramaṇa is a generic term for groups of renunciate wanderers in early northern India in the period c. 800–300 BC. One of the earliest recorded uses of the word śramaṇa is found in a verse from the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad

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composed by about the 8th century BC (Muller 1879, 169). By the 6th century BC, the śramaṇa movement was an established tradition (Ray 1999, 237–240) and was to provide the milieu from which early religious movements, such as the Ajivakas, Ajñanas, Cārvākas, Jains and Buddhism, would emerge. Hermit adherents of these groups, and from traditional Brahmanism, as well as many other diverse mendicant groups, would have travelled the vast plains, valleys and towns of northeast India. Sometimes they would have stayed at certain places, but most of the time was spent wandering as individuals or in small groups. Such hermits were no doubt the precursors of the wandering saddhus still seen in India today. By the 5th century BC, at least, some śramaṇa had begun to come to­ gether as eremitic communities or sanghas under the leadership of certain spiritual teachers. Some such as Siddhartha Gautama, Mahavira and Gosala are recorded, and no doubt represent a far greater number whose names are now lost. The Buddhist Samaññaphala Sutta identified six preBuddhist śramaṇa schools (excluding the Buddha’s) and their respective leaders. The text also summarised their key beliefs which included both materialism (Ajita), eternalism (Pakudha) and fatalism (Gosala) (Bodhi 1997). However, since the sutta was a Buddhist source, and the Buddha advocated a ‘middle way’ between some of these extremes, its reliability might be questioned. What it does reveal is that there was a diversity of śramaṇa movements which embraced different philosophies and therefore, presumably, discrete approaches to the renunciate and eremetic life. There is some evidence to suggest that prior to the establishment of Buddhist monasticism the first Buddhist followers were primarily wandering ascetics. Certainly, the earliest archaeological evidence for formal Buddhist monasteries date to some 150 years after the death of the Buddha in around c. 400 BC. One of the earliest Buddhist texts, the so-called Rhinoceros Sutra from the Suttanipāta (Collection of Discourses) comprised a poem written to directly encourage the adoption of a practical solitary life. The sutra en­ couraged one to roam single ‘like the horn of a rhinoceros’ and as ‘a deer in the wilds’. Consequently, the religious must ‘resort to secluded lodgings’ and ‘unopposed with the whole world’, he must pursue freedom by loving kindness, compassion and ‘shatter the fetters and abandon passion, hatred and delusion’ (Thanissaro 2013). In this sense even though he or she with­ draws from society, the hermit nonetheless is not in conflict with the world and is encouraged to view it with both empathy and benevolence. Here it is clear that this sutra, and other early Buddhist texts from the Pali Canon, specifically expounded the merit of solitary asceticism for pursuing enlight­ enment. Another early text, the Cullavagga, which may have its provenance in the 1st Buddhist Council immediately after the Buddha’s death, referred to several solitary hermits including ‘a certain monk (who) lived in a certain thicket on the slope of the Himalayas’ (VI, 3–4, Horner 1949, 251) and Dabba the Mallian who was ‘meditating alone and in solitude’ (VIII, Horner 1949, 271–272). The Majjhima Nikā ya (Middle Length Discourses) in the Pali

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Canon gave a further example in the form of the hermitage of the Brahman Rammaka near to the town of Sā vatthi (Ś rā vastī ) (Sinha 2017, 22). Although many of these ‘secluded lodgings’ referred to in the Rhinoceros Sutra would have presumably comprised basic dwellings within the forests and hills, which would leave no archaeological trace, it is also likely that many caves also fulfilled this role. As well as having a practical function, caves, either natural or man-made, had long been viewed as sacred places (Michell 1988, 69, 82). They therefore would have had a particular sig­ nificance for hermits. Many Indian cave sites were isolated, yet close enough to major towns or route ways. The rocky landscapes would have been lar­ gely unsuitable for agricultural use and thus would have been convenient for temporary settlement by ascetics and small communities. An early example of such a cave complex lies in the Barabar Hills, about 70 km south of the ancient Mauryan capital of Pataliputra and 30 km north of the important Buddhist site at Bodhgaya. At Barabar, four caves can be found, the earliest, Lomas Rishis and the Sudama Cave date to the 5th century BC, with the latter having a 3rd-century BC Ashokan inscription recording its use by the Ajivika sect (Figure 2.1). This cave comprises two rooms, a rectangular chamber measuring circa 10 × 6 metres, which gives access, via a small corridor, to a semi-hemispherical space 6 metres in diameter. These caves may also represent the ‘prototype’ for later Buddhist cave complexes, such as those that survive in such proliferation in the Western Deccan, as at Ajanta (Brancaccio 2010, 26–27). A comparative set of caves exist about 25 km east of Barabar just southwest of the ancient Indian stronghold at Rajgir and include the Sone Bhandar and the Saptaparni Caves. The Rajgir caves are important since it was here that the 1st Buddhist Council was held after the Buddha’s death and are referred to as such in travel itineraries of Chinese pilgrims, including

Figure 2.1 Barabar Hill with Sudama and Lomas Rishi Caves with later Ashokan period entrance (1870) (Public Domain, Copyright Expired).

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one of the earliest by Fa-Hien in the early 5th century AD (Legge 1971). The reports of these pilgrims are significant since they are among some of the earliest records for these sites and their related eremitic communities. FaHien records the Saptaparni Cave (xxx, 85), as the ‘cave where the Buddha sat in meditation’ (Ch xxix, 83 in Legge 1971). He also observed that ‘along the sides of the hill, there are also a great many cells among the rocks, where the various arhans (Buddhists) sat and meditated’ (xxx, 85). Other examples of early Buddhist caves in the area include the ‘Sattapanni Cave’ as well as ‘the slopes of ‘Isigili Hill’, ‘Vulture Peak’, ‘Robber’s Cliff’ and the ‘Slopes of the Snake Pool’ (VIII, Horner 1949, 274). In other areas, the local geology al­ lowed for the excavation of caverns. Many of the Indian hermitage caves were probably rock-cut alterations. Studies of comparative examples in Sri Lanka found that many were refashioned from their original state (Coningham 1999, 229) and doubtless such sites were chosen for their potential malleability. However, a significant amount of work went into making these caves habi­ table and it is not known whether this was conducted by the hermit or com­ munity themselves, or by specialist craftsman. In Sri Lanka, the caves were filled with firewood and then set alight to remove early debris and rock splinters. The cave was then cleared, and a wall was built in the entrance with a drip mould to prevent water entering the cave (Rahula 1956, 114). A similar process was probably conducted with the Indian examples. Overall, the level of work involved in excavating and preparing these cave sites might further suggest that at some point a more permanent residency evolved. Overall, the early evidence for the śramaṇa movement suggests some level of itineracy with perhaps a more settled existence during the long rainy seasons. Certainly, the Pali Canon points to an itinerant eremitism and the extensive travels of the Buddha himself across northeast India is well-documented. The Canon also recorded gifts of land to the Buddha. Such gifts of land, such as the Venuvana in Rajgir and Jeta Grove, near Shravasti, were clearly given in order to provide for a more settled community. Originally this was to facilitate lodgings or ‘retreat’ during monsoon periods. References in the Cullavagga, a set of early Buddhist regulations, support this interpretation. Here we are informed that monks were assigned lodgings at certain times (possibly during Vassa, the monsoon season retreats). But over time such seasonal commu­ nities may have become more permanent. Moreover, as the early movement become more popular many of the renunciants would have become older, ill or infirm and thus a more stable lifestyle was necessary. Certainly, there are number of references in the Canon to the treatment of ill members of the community. Overall, it is perhaps within these early retreats that the origins of early Buddhist eremitic communities, and perhaps ‘monasticism’ itself, can be found. The Venuvana and Jeta Grove communities would have consisted of basic brick or timber dwellings, such as the ‘Perfumed Hut’ in the Jeta Grove referred to in the Canon as being the dwelling of the Buddha himself. Much of northeast India would have comprised forest or jungle and timber and

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Part I

similar organic natural materials would have made for an obvious and in­ expensive building material. In other cases, survey and excavation at com­ parative sites of the period, such as at Tilaurakot- Kapilavastu, the possible hometown of the Buddha, indicated the use of fired-brick in some instances (Coningham et al. 2020). In this light, materials may have also been donated and used for the construction of residences particularly at periods of in­ creased permanent use. Such patterns of intermittent mendicancy with more static living at the time of the Buddha, and the immediate decades following his death, may have set the precedent for what will later emerge as more permanent monastic lifestyle.

The Naked Philosophers India in the mid 1st millennium BC bordered the Hellenistic Greek world to the West and there was much evidence of cultural and religious interactions between both worlds. In the 4th century BC, Greeks visiting India in the entourage of Alexander encountered various groups of Indian religious and hermits. Plutarch in his Vita Alexandri, written in the 1st century AD, described such a meeting between Alexander and the ‘gymnosophists’, (Gumnosofistai), literally, ‘naked philosophers’, a term of which was clearly a defining feature for the Greeks (Powers 1998). Onesicritus, a Cynic philo­ sopher, and part of Alexander’s entourage and the original source for this account, claimed the meeting occurred at Taxila, in modern day Pakistan (Cheshire 2009, 146). Taxila in this period was a thriving metropolitan city and may have been a place already recognised for the study of philosophy, art and comparative religion. The doctrines of the gymnosophists appeared to be like that of the Cynics and therefore might have been of particular interest to Onesicritus, as well as Alexander himself who had a keen interest in philosophy. Cynicism, an influential philosophy in Ancient Greece at the time, was concerned with the renunciate life and training in austerities, and therefore close to the life espoused by the gymnosophists. Two years after the death of Alexander in 323 BC, the historian Megasthenes was sent from the newly formed Hellenistic Seleucid kingdom as Greek ambassador to the Indian king Chandragupta Maurya at his capital of Pataliputra (modern Patna, in the state of Bihar). Based on Megasthenes’ accounts, some centuries later Strabo reported that the gymnosophists were a religious group among the Indians and were divided into Brahmans and śramaṇa (Strabo XV, I, 59–60, Jones 2006). It may be that the specific re­ ference to the śramaṇa in the accounts indicated that they were Buddhists, rather than orthodox Brahmins. Megasthenes further divides the śramaṇa into ‘hylobioi’ (‘forest hermits’) and ‘physicians’ (Strabo XV, I, 60, Jones 2006), which may be in reference to their attention to spiritual ‘maladies’ rather than medical conditions. Although it has elsewhere been argued that early Buddhists are often compared in the early discourses to skilful physicians (Batchelor 2011) and many early Buddhist teachings may have been

Early Hermits and Hermitages in India

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structurally based on Indian medical diagnostic formula. From these early accounts and the material evidence the eremitic way advocated a mode of life that was the opposite to that of the religiously orthodox and the Indian householder. Ultimately, it prescribed wilderness over village, celibacy over marriage, instability over static residence and inner virtue and practice over outward observance (Olivelle 1993).

Convention and Constraint: Hermitages and Eremitic Communities in Early Buddhism What we now know as ‘Buddhism’ was more than likely one of many śramaṇa movements that existed in northern India and revolved around the teaching lineages of individual founders and their disciples. As we have seen, in its early phase Buddhism was generally eremitic in character. Early monks, bhikkus (literally, beggars), were for the most part wandering mendicants relying on alms and support from local communities, and it appears that the Buddha did not originally plan to have stable monastic communities. Moreover, this would be contrary to the documented mis­ sionary activity of early Buddhist individuals and groups. Here we have argued that monasticism was a later development and perhaps a natural evolution that probably emerged out of a practical requirement to have semi-permanent shelter during the three months of the rainy season (vassa). The emphasis on formal monastic life was also due to the increasing po­ pularity of Buddhism in the centuries after the Buddha’s death, as well as its institutionalisation under the Emperor Ashoka in the 3rd century BC. Buddhist inscriptions testify to the existence of the formal Buddhist sangha or community from at least this time (Fogelin 2015, 89). This may be further supported by textual evidence from the Pali Canon, where a small part of the Monastic Vinaya (rules) may be included among some the earliest Buddhist texts (EBTs) (Sujato and Brahmali 2014, 10). As it evolved, a key element of early Indian Buddhism was the persistent social contradiction between the desire for individual asceticism and practice versus the need to maintain a coherent community of Buddhists (Fogelin 2015). The patronage and consequent development of ‘Buddhism’ under the Indian Emperor Ashoka Maurya (273–232 BC) placed renewed emphasis on the foundation of new monasteries, often with monumental reliquaries, or ‘stupas’, many of which were located on sites associated with the historical Buddha, such as Sarnath, Gaya, Lumbini and Vaishali, in northeastern India (Allen 2012). In this sense, a Buddhist ritual and mythic landscape was created, which had as much to do with the promulgation of Imperial au­ thority as the patronage and circulation of religious ideology. Monasteries were to become the preeminent context for Buddhist practice and moved from being small eremitic communities into large, standardised and regu­ lated communities. They were also often the beneficiaries of land grants and consequently began to control and own large amounts of property.

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However, śramaṇa were still in existence, and are recorded on many of Ashoka’s rock and pillar edicts which he set up around his kingdom. For example one Edict stated that ‘there is no country where these (two) classes, (viz.) the brahmanas and the śramaṇas do not exist’ (Rock Edict XIII). Even in a post-Ashokan monastic context the essential individual nature of early Buddhist practice, with its emphasis on meditation and personal ethics, continued to be an integral component of monastic form and fabric. Some of the earliest Buddhist sources such as the Rhinoceros Sutra and early parts of the Vinaya, or monastic regulations, indicated that individual and eremitic communities developed in parallel and were perhaps not mu­ tually exclusive but dependent on their respective social and environmental conditions. As Buddhism grew in popularity and became subject to in­ creased patronage it may have become more cenobitic and institutionalised with a growing emphasis on communal ritual. Here perhaps the earlier, possibly temporary and more organic eremitic communities transitioned eventually into stable monastic establishments. In this light, the ‘cave monasteries’ (viharas) at places such as Ajanta and Bhaja might be indicative of this process. The presence of ritual halls (chaitya) early in the history of Buddhist monasticism, for example at sites such as Ajanta, may indicate the rise of communal practices and a gradual move away from the primacy of solitary ascetic practice to communal life and ritual practice. These halls, designed with aisles and often apsidal walkways with a ritual memorial focus of the stupa may have provided a context for the practice of walking meditation which might have been a specific form of spiritual exercise particularly suited for collective practice. The individual-based practices of early Buddhism were not diminished in this context. Architecturally, many early Buddhist monasteries still reflected the tradition of cave-based eremitic practice in their design and layout. This can perhaps be seen more directly in the early phases of cave-built monastic complexes of the Indian Deccan such as at Ajanta, Bhaja and Karla dating to the 2nd century BC. These cave complexes, many of which were surveyed and recorded by Fergusson and Burgess in the 19th century (Fergusson and Burgess 1880), indicated a dual context for both communal and individual practices. Many had large halls and ritual complexes together with small chambers and solitary caves. At Bhaja, 22 rock-cut caves survive, some with existing evidence for internal cells with stone benches or beds. Other caves at Bhaja had evidence for aisles and ritual foci and were clearly set aside for more communal, professional and devotional activities. At Ajanta, 36 caves were cut into the cliff face of a U-shaped gorge on the river Waghu. The earliest caves, possible dating to 2nd century BC (Spink 2007) comprised symmetrical square vihara (mon­ astic) halls with smaller square individual cells cut into the walls. Cave 12, among the earlier of the caves, was a small underground ‘courtyard’ sur­ rounded on three side by small cells, each containing one or two small stone beds. This cave was likely linked to the ritual chaitya cave number 10 (Spink 2008, 1, 135–137). At the Buddhist monastery of Kanheri, north of Mumbai,

Early Hermits and Hermitages in India

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a well-preserved complex of over 100 rock-cut caves included ritual halls and communal rooms as well as smaller individual caves (Figures 2.2–2.4). The individual size and organisation of these caves gives some insight into the dual emphasis placed on eremitic and individual practice in a communal environment, a pattern that we will later see in other contexts (Figure 2.5). By the 1st century AD, the typical Buddhist monastic vihara comprised a regular and generally universal plan of a cloistered quadrangle with a range of individual cells arranged around a large central courtyard. Such ar­ rangements, referred to as ‘courtyard monasteries’ can be seen, for example at the early Buddhist monasteries of Jaulian in Gandhara (modern Pakistan) and the monastic complexes at Sarnath and Sanchi in northern India, as well as the latest phase of the monastic ‘university’ at Nalanda around the 10th and 11th centuries AD. It was a standardised plan, albeit with variations, that was to last for the whole history of Buddhism in India. The plans of these viharas continued the traditional pattern of individual withdrawal within a regulated community. The dimensions of the cells are clearly sui­ table only for one or two people and were likely used for sleeping and so­ litary meditation practice. On the other hand, the courtyard and other features such as stupa complexes or chaitya halls provided a context for communal ritual and interaction. In this sense such institutions still em­ phasised individual spirituality, but within the context of the community or monastic family (sangha) and might be classed, at least in some instances, as

Figure 2.2 Kanheri Caves, Mumbai (by author).

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Figure 2.3 Hermit Caves at Kanheri (by author).

Figure 2.4 Hermit Cave at Kanheri (by author).

Early Hermits and Hermitages in India

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Figure 2.5 Plan of cave complex at Kanheri (Gazetteer of the Bombay Presidency, 1896, by James M. Campbell).

eremitic communities rather than fully cenobitic institutions. It might be that the form and layout of early ‘above-ground’ monasteries might also reflect their architectural heritage in earlier cave sites. For example, ex­ cavations at the Jivakarama monastery, a site possibly referred to in the Pali Canon as a site gifted to the Buddha by a physician named Jivaka (Allchin 1995, 246–247), consisted of a layout formed of long elliptical rooms, which may directly resemble the similarly elliptical rock-cut caves at nearby Barabar (Fogelin 2015, 82). There is also a noticeable architectural com­ panion with later ‘courtyard’ monasteries and the layout of the cave mon­ asteries at Ajanta, referred to earlier, which likewise consisted of cells grouped around a central ‘courtyard’. The continued presence of individual spaces within early Buddhist monasteries is likely due to the primacy of meditation, the core and fundamental practice at the heart of Buddhism. Buddhism found its way into Sri Lanka in the 3rd century BC as Ashokan missionaries sought to spread their faith beyond the Indian subcontinent. The evidence from Sri Lanka suggests that the form of early Buddhism was largely a forest-dwelling tradition, much as it is today, and there are over a thousand cave-dwellings in Sri Lanka dating from its early Buddhist period (c. 3rd century BC- 6th century AD) (Coningham 1999, 228, 235). Many of these early sites such as at Vessagiriya and Ritigala, the latter occupied from

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as early as the 2nd century BC, did not have evidence for ritual structures such as stupas but they did possess ‘meditational’ pathways which might imply an emphasis on solitary meditation practice (Coningham 1999, 233). Although this does not suggest a hermit tradition by definition, it does however point to an eremitic community since these sites were often located far from human settlement, often on rocky outcrops and surrounded by jungle. This is in some contrast to other Sri Lankan monastic sites that were urban-based and may have also placed especial emphasis on study and ritual practice. In the above examples drawn from both Sri Lanka and India, the specific requirements of meditation practice may have been a key driver in the ne­ cessity and development of solitary spaces within monasteries. Evidence from the early Pali Canon, particularly from the Satipatthana Sutta, indicated the central role of meditation in Buddhist religious practice. In this light, the form and fabric of early monastic communities necessitated the development of spaces that provided a context for what was essentially an individual exercise which also required some measure of silence and relative solitude. This ne­ cessity seems to be a common factor in the development of Buddhist mon­ asticism beyond the subcontinent. Here, the model of eremitic-type practices within a cenobitic environment persisted in many cases well into the 1st mil­ lennium AD as Buddhist ideas spread further throughout the Indian sub­ continent, but also made their way further east.

References Allchin, F. R. (1995) The Archaeology of Early Historic South Asia The Emergence of Cities and State. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Allen, C. (2012) Ashoka: The Search for India’s Lost Emperor. London: Abacus Books Batchelor, S. (2011) Confessions of a Buddhist Atheist. London: Random House. Bodhi, B. (1997) Discourse on Fruits of Recluseship: ‘Samaññaphala Sutta’ and Its Commentaries. Kandy, Sri Lanka: Buddhist Publication Society. Brancaccio, P. (2010) The Buddhist Caves at Aurangabad: Transformations in Art and Religion. Leiden: Brill. Cheshire, K. (2009) Alexander the Great (Greece and Rome: Texts and Contexts). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Coningham, R. A. E. (1999) Anuradhapura: The British-Sri Lankan Excavations at Anuradhapura Salgaha Watta: Volume 1 The Site. Oxford: Archaeopress for the Society for South Asian Studies Monograph Series. Coningham, R. A. E., Acharya, K. P., Davis, C., Manuel, M., and Kunwar, R. B. (2020) Excavating, Conserving and Presenting Tilaurakot-Kapilavastu (UNESCO Tentative World Heritage Site): Final Report of the November 2019 and JanuaryMarch 2020 Archaeological Field Activities. UNESCO. Fergusson, J. and Burgess, J. (1880) The Cave Temples of India. London: Allen. Fogelin, L. (2015) An Archaeological History of Indian Buddhism. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Horner, I. B. (1949) Vinaya Pitaka (The Book of the Discipline of the Tipitaka). London: Pali Text Society.

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Jones, H. L. (trans.) (2006) Strabo. Geography. Vol. VII. Loeb Classical Library. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Legge, J. (trans.) (1971) A Record of Buddhistic Kingdoms Being an Account by the Chinese Monk FA’Hien of his Travels in India and Ceylon AD 399–414. Delhi: Oriental Publishers. MacCulloch, D. (2009) A History of Christianity: The First Three Thousand Years. London: Allen Lane. Michell, G. (1988) The Hindu Temple: An Introduction to its Meaning and Forms. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago. Muller, M. (1879) ‘Brihadaranyaka Upanishad’ in The Upanishads, Part 2. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Olivelle, P. (1993) The Ā ś rama System: The History and Hermeneutics of a Religious Institution. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Powers, N. (1998) ‘Onesicritus, Naked Wise Men, and the Cynics’ Alexander’, Syllecta Classica, 9, 70–85. Rahula, W. (1956) History of Buddhism in Ceylon. Colombo: Gunasen. Ray, R. (1999) Buddhist Saints in India. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sinha, K. (2017) ‘Envisioning a No-Man’s Land: Hermitage as a Site of Exemption in Ancient and Early Medieval Indian Literature’, Medieval Worlds, 6, 20–39. Spink, W. M. (2007) Ajanta: History and Development, Volume 5: Cave by Cave. Leiden: Brill. Spink, W. M. (2008) Ajanta: History and Development Volume 4: Painting, Sculpture, Architecture, Year by Year. Leiden: Brill. Sujato, B. and Brahmali, B. (2014) The Authenticity of the Early Buddhist Texts. Charleston, SC: Charleston Buddhist Fellowship. Thanissaro, B. (ed. and trans.) (2013) ‘Khaggavisana Sutta: A Rhinoceros (Sn 1.3)’, Access to Insight (BCBS Edition). http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/kn/snp/ snp.1.03.than.html

3

Early Hermits and Hermitages in China, Japan and Tibet: An Overview

Historical evidence for hermits in East Asia is prolific. Descriptions of hermits range from Hijiri (Holy Man) ascetics, influential antagonists of priests and monks, court philosophers, mountain ascetics (Xian), ‘virtuous’ hermits (shengxian), cave-dwelling, demon-quelling Yogis and Tibetan Tantric lineage-holders whose lives were underpinned by the practice of contemplation in isolation. References to hermits are also abundant in the rich literary tradition of the East and include the Chinese poems of Cold Mountain, the koans and haikus of Japan and the songs of Tibetan yogis. It should therefore come as no surprise that there is also some fragmentary archaeological evidence for hermitages and eremitic monasteries. This chapter will provide an archaeological overview of the history of eremitism in China, Tibet and Japan. It is not intended to be an exhaustive or com­ prehensive review of the Eastern hermit tradition. Rather, it is to provide some comparative context to the later development of the eremitic tradition in the West and, like the previous chapter, explore an ancestry which was a formative part of a rich and broader tradition.

China The eremitic ideal was an essential component that accompanied the transmission of Buddhism to East Asia from India. In Tibet and China, and thence on to Korea and Japan, Buddhism encountered and eventually in­ corporated pre-existing indigenous eremitic ideals, which offered a cultural distinctiveness to new forms of solitary life. This fruitful engagement is particularly well accounted for in China which had in the traditions of Taoism, and to an extent Confucianism, long-standing ideological frame­ works for the hermit life. In China, the tradition of the recluse is evident from the time of the philosopher Confucius (551–479 BC) in the form of what has been termed ‘exemplary eremitism’ (Vervoorn 1990). References to hermits, ‘both legendary and historical’ are prominent in the accounts of the philosophers of the so-called ‘Warring States’ period (403–221 BC) (Vervoorn 1990, 1), which witnessed the development of many new philo­ sophical schools. Among these was a rather peculiar form of secular DOI: 10.4324/9780429024559-4

Hermitages in China, Japan and Tibet 25 eremitism prevalent among the political classes that was used to facilitate a conscious withdrawal from official duties, and consequently the vicissitudes of political life. It was Confucius who conceived of this convenient and al­ ternative proposal; and one that was effectively the life of a hermit, albeit primarily a secular one. Here the adoption of a life in isolation served as a justification for a refusal to serve the ruler and ultimately required an ‘al­ ternative conception of personal morality’ (Vervoorn 1990, 116–125). It was, in short, a way of avoiding moral comprises.

Taoist and Buddhist Hermits It is perhaps within the indigenous religio-philosophical tradition of Taoism that we can find a more fitting context for the religious vocation of the hermit in early China, and here, perhaps, a brief examination of some of the relevant Taoist sources will provide us with a sense of the nature of early eremitism in China. Taoism, particularly through the writings of Lao Tzu in the 6th century BC, was to have a particular influence on early Buddhism in China (Mitchell 1988, Hinton 2020 Taoism presented an elaborate philo­ sophical context for a withdrawal from society and there are many refer­ ences to hermits in the early Taoist texts. This includes the 6th-century Daoxue Zhuan and the Zhuangzi (c. 476–221 BC) which were collections of stories, poems and tales that promoted the ideal of the lone Taoist sage. Taoism also involved investigations into alchemical practices and certain exercises were claimed to enhance longevity. In this light, reclusively was professed to be one such exercise which could enhance life span. The auto­ biography of the Chinese hermit, Ge Hong (AD 283–343), who is referred to as ‘Baopuzi’ (Master Who Embraces Simplicity) is one the first biographies of its kind in Chinese literature (Kohn 2008, 67). The autobiography described how Ge Hong tried to avoid social interaction so as to reach a state of perfect health and extended longevity. This was largely supplemented through certain exercises that concerned breathing, diet and meditation, which ultimately enabled the creation of an alchemical elixir and eventual ascension to the heavens (Kohn 2008, 67). Another account, the Baopuzi Yangsheng Lun (Nourishing Life According to the Master who Embraces Simplicity), was perhaps more grounded in its aspirations. Here, these more pragmatic guidelines included ‘letting go of fame and profit’, limiting sights and sounds, tastes and smells and to have moderate material goods and wealth (Kohn 2008, 72). Many of the ascetics depicted in the Daoxue Zhuan (Biographies of Students of the Tao) were probably hermits including Meng Daoyang who ‘wore hemp cloth, ate coarse food and owned no private possessions’ (Eskildsen 1998, 35). Another, Deng Yuzhi (c. AD 483–493) lived alone on the southern peak of Mt Heng, one of China’s Five Sacred Mountains, and wore ‘only a tattered monk’s robe throughout the year’ (ibid). Although little survives of the earliest Taoist hermitages and communities on Mt Heng, it is

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still place of pilgrimage and the elemental power of its landscape, of great inspiration to the early hermits, is still largely intact. Early Buddhism in Han China of the first few centuries AD was marked by significant interaction and syncretism with Taoism (Maspero 1981, 46). As we have seen Taoism placed some emphasis on the hermit life, and Buddhism itself would not necessarily have been at odds with wider Taoist beliefs. It may be that Buddhism, particularly in its Ch’an form with its focus on meditation, was ‘fundamentally reinterpreted and reshaped by Taoist thought’. Likewise, Buddhism ‘pushed native Chinese philosophy to a new level of clarity and intensity’ (Hinton 2020, 6). The Zhuangzi, a pri­ mary source of Taoist thought, was particularly influential in the adaptation of Buddhism to Chinese culture. In the 4th century AD Zhi Dun, China’s first aristocratic Buddhist monk, wrote a prominent commentary to the text (Mair 1998, 22–23) and its celebration of a life of withdrawal would have appealed to early Buddhist hermits. Moreover, the arrival of Buddhism into China from the 1st century AD would have offered a more organised, if not institutional, framework for the hermit life (Hinton 2020). Consequently, it is from this period that we begin to see more substantial archaeological evidence for early hermits and eremitic communities in China.

Early Cave Sites in China Archaeological evidence for early eremitic communities and hermitages in China is largely found in a collection of cave sites and complexes. These may have initially included the remarkable Silk Road cave monastery and UNESCO World Heritage Site at Mogao, Dunhuang, in the western Chinese province of Xinjiang and the important complex of caves on both sides of the Yi River south of the former Han period capital of Luoyang in eastern China. Known as the Longmen Grottoes, this system comprised more than 2,300 caves and niches carved into the steep limestone cliffs over a 1-km-long stretch of river valley. Both the Dunhuang Caves and the Longmen Grottoes may have evolved from earlier secluded sites located to facilitate ascetic practice, including meditation. However, in time these sites evolved into funerary caves for wealthy donors and more complex monastic communities and conse­ quently, these caves, such as they survive, offer little insight into any potential early usage and any eremitic practices associated with them. The evidence for eremitic communities is more convincing in the Kuča region of western China, where over 100 caves once used for practicing meditation are still recognisable (Howard 2015, 20). Kuča was an ancient Buddhist kingdom located on the northern branch of the Silk Road that ran along the vast Taklamakan Desert in the Tarim Basin in western China. Here, many early Buddhist cave sites existed including at Kargha, Simsim, Subashi, Mazabaha, Kumtura and Kizil (Figure 3.1), some of which have been subject to recent archaeological investigation (Howard and Vignato 2014). As previously noted, meditation was, and is, a central component of

Hermitages in China, Japan and Tibet 27

Figure 3.1 Caves 82–85 at Kizil, Xinjiang, China (c. 1902–14) (Albert Grünwedel).

Buddhist practice and meditation is ultimately an individual practice. In the context of its practical application it normally requires a space where one would be undisturbed and uninterrupted and without external distraction. It would also not necessarily involve any rituals or communal activity, unless to support, not inhibit, meditation. Interpretations of some of the earlier phases of caves at Kizil has led to the conclusion that these sites were set up to meet the needs of a thriving and very active community of monks who stressed the importance of meditation (Howard 2015, 29). The dimension and arrange­ ment of the cave cells indicate an emphasis on solitary practice (Figure 3.2).

Figure 3.2 Plan of caves at Kizil. ED (Cave 82), C (Cave 83), B (Cave 84) and A (Cave 85). Note the shape and dimensions of the caves which might suggest spaces for individual secluded meditation (Public Domain).

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Many of the caves at the Kuča sites were single cell and small in size; some were around 0.8–1 metres deep, 1–1.2 metres wide, and 1.2–1.5 metres high (ibid, 24). These dimensions, as argued by the authors of the study, would be suitable for a single person only, who would presumably be in a seated po­ sition, and therefore likely engaged in meditation or individual contemplative practice (Howard and Vignato 2014). Many of the cave cells were clearly isolated from other cells in the complex and would have consequently offered a level of relative seclusion. Other caves are linked to other cells and often connected by galleries or long internal corridors. The form and fabric of the cave systems at Kuča suggest hermit activities within a communal context, a common pattern that we have already seen in India, and indeed will later see in a Christian context. Overall, the Kuča caves offer an important insight into the archaeology of early eremitism in China, and one that may arguably have once been common within early Chinese Buddhist practice.

Hermits in the Literary Tradition The Tang Dynasty (AD 618–907) is often considered a golden age of Chinese arts and culture. Hermits feature prominently in the literature of this period, particularly in the context of Ch’an Buddhism where there is both a literary and religious tradition centred around mountain hermits and wandering ascetics. Many hermits were famous for their enlightened sayings, insightful dialogues and general expressions of what has been termed (sometimes erroneously perhaps) as ‘crazy wisdom’. A number of these events and utterances were written down in the form of recorded dialogues and poems and come to represent a substantial literary tradition, outside of traditional scriptures, and which underpinned much of Buddhist teaching and practice at this time. This literal tradition included the Chinese poem collections of Han-shan and Shi-te, who lived in the late 8th to early 9th century AD on the sacred T’ien-t’ai Mountains of Chekiang (Cold Mountain), and the famous Chinese gōng’àns or koans (lit. Public Cases) which were used as mechanisms for the training of Buddhist monks in China, but also later in Korea and Japan. Koans were recorded dialogues between past masters and students. In practice, they were the context for solitary contemplative practice which when ‘resolved’ would be ‘tested’ by experienced teachers. In this light koans have been described by the con­ temporary Christian meditation teacher Father Laurence Freeman, as ‘strikingly similar’ to the recorded sayings of the early Christian desert fa­ thers and mothers (Freeman 2011, 10). There is, of course, no direct his­ torical relationship, but the use of recorded enlightened dialogues and conferences as didactic mechanisms can be recognised more broadly perhaps as an effective tool in contemplative practice. Importantly they can be adopted as individual tools and exemplars for the eremitic life. The best know koan collections are the Chinese Mumonkan, or ‘Gateless Gate’ (12th century) and Blue Cliff Record (13th century), both still studied today, and

Hermitages in China, Japan and Tibet 29 which include several koans which have particular reference to hermits (Cleary 1998, Yamada 2004 ). These include Chao-Chou and the Hermits (Mumonkan Case 11) and The Hermit of Lotus Peak, (Blue Cliff Record Case 25). The celebration of the hermit life is celebrated poetically and perhaps more directly in the works of the Chinese hermit, Shitou (8th century) and the later Soto Zen Buddhist hermit-monk / poet Ryōkan. Shitou’s Song of the Grass-Roof Hermitage gives us a poetic vision of the early Buddhist hermit who resided in a ‘grass hut where there is nothing of value’ … ‘covered in weeds’ and just ‘ten feet square’ (Stevens 2006).

Hermits and Hermitages in Early Japan In light of the relative paucity of archaeological material in Japan the literary sources can at least provide us with some insight into the material context of Japanese hermitages. In the early 13th century, Chinese Ch’an was introduced to Japan in the shape of ‘Zen’ Buddhism. Japanese Zen adopted many of the practices and traditions of Chinese Ch’an, including its emphasis on monastic and eremitic life. Like Ch’an, Zen also cultivated a rich religious literary tradition, some of which drew inspiration from the hermit life. Much like Shitou, the poetry of the Japanese Zen monk Ryōkan (1758?–1831) resounded with the same ascetic flavour of his ear­ lier eremitic counterpart. Ryōkan’s poetry is also permeated by a keen sense of the impermanent and often tinged with a certain melancholy. Much of his writing revolved around his simple life at his hermitage where ‘In a dilapidated three-room hut, I’ve grown old and tired’ (in A Dilapidated Three-Room Hut). Ryōkan’s hut, the Go-Goan (Five Scoop Hut), was on the isolated slopes of Mount Kugami, ‘among trees and plants’ yet close to a Shingon Buddhist temple (Yes, I am Truly a Dunce). Ryōkan’s frequent recorded interactions with the temple and villagers, particularly the children, tells us that he still maintained relationships with the outside world and relied on the support of the nearby Shingon com­ munity. Today a simple timber structure claimed to be Ryōkan’s hut can still be seen close to the Shingon Temple of Kokujo-ji on Mt Kugami. Some of the early Japanese hermits might have also offered advice, teaching and guidance to those who sought them out and certainly Ryōkan’s poems often contain elements of Buddhist teaching. Whilst suffering from so-called ‘Zen sickness’, a psychological malady related to intensive medi­ tation practice, the famous Zen Master Hakuin Ekaku (1685–1768) was reported to have sought the help of a hermit named Master Hakuyu, who lived in a cave high in the mountains of Shirakawa district of Kyoto. Hakuin made the arduous journey and eventually found the cave entrance hidden by a ‘rushwork blind’. Here, the Zen master recorded that the entrance com­ manded a ‘prospect of unsurpassed beauty, completely above the vulgar dust of the world’. Inside, Hakuyu was ‘seated on a soft mat made of grasses’ and wore a large jacket of coarsely woven cloth. The interior of the

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cave was small, not more than five feet square, and ‘except for a small desk, there was no sign of household articles or other furnishings of any kind’ (Waddell 2010). Hakuin reported that the hermit cured him of his malady by recommending a specific practice referred to as the ‘butter’ or ‘soft ointment’ meditation, a transformative visualisation meditation. Aside from the numerous literary references, and unlike the numerous existing monasteries and temples, archaeological remains of Japanese her­ mitages are comparatively limited. However, where some material evidence does survive, and where perhaps the tradition of the Japanese hermit found its most direct and institutional representation, was in the Yamabushi. The Yamabushi were a religious order of hermits which flourished in the Heian Period (AD 794–1185). They were followers of Shugendō, a Japanese re­ ligious tradition which combined Shinto and Taoist ideas with Buddhism. Yamabushi means ‘mountain soldier’ but these were essentially religious hermits who were committed to climbing sacred mountains and performing acts of penance (Bodart-Bailey 1999). One of the most important sites as­ sociated with the Yamabushi is Sanbutsu-ji on Mt Mitoku which tradition holds was founded by the Buddhist ascetic monk En no Gyōja (c. AD 634–701), the possible founder of Shugendō (Figure 3.3). The temple con­ sists of timber halls perched dramatically on the side of the mountain’s cliff. It is accessible only by a narrow pathway. By the time of the Yamabushi, the tradition of the Buddhist hermit had existed well over 1,000 years. It had flourished in a variety of different embodiments, including caves, huts, halls, and cells, in both isolation and as part of a community. We find the hermit in mountains, along rivers, within forests and in deserts. In fact, as we shall later see, the landscape setting of

Figure 3.3 The temple of of Sanbutsu-ji, Misasa, Japan (Copyright © 2003 David Monniaux).

Hermitages in China, Japan and Tibet 31 many hermitages, including those of the medieval Christian West, was viewed as important as the form of the hermitage itself. This is particularly the case with the construction and articulation of symbolic or mythic landscapes. And this is especially true in reference to mountains and pla­ teaus of Tibet, a landscape in its isolation that was imbued with especial symbolic significance, myth and magic, where the caves systems associated with early Buddhist hermits were accordingly viewed as places of power.

Hermits and Hermitages in Tibet Buddhism became a major presence in Tibet towards the end of the 8th century AD principally through the Indian teachers Padmasambhāva (8th century AD) and Śāntarakṣita (AD 725–788). The early Buddhist lineages of Tibet strongly relied on the practice of meditation in isolation, and this is perhaps best exemplified by the teaching lineage of Marpa (AD 1012–1097). Marpa was in fact a householder, although his teaching encouraged the practice of regular and sustained retreat and ascetic practice. His lineage would become the Kagyu lineage, one of the four main Buddhist traditions present in Tibet and the Tibetan diaspora today. One of the most famous of Marpa’s disciples was the hermit-poet Milarepa (AD 1052–1135) who spent 12 years living and meditating in caves in the hills and mountains of Tibet. Here, he was inspired to write ‘songs’ of Enlightenment, many of which ex­ tolled the wild, ascetic and spiritual qualities of the hermit life (Chang 1980). There are many caves associated with Milarepa in Tibet and Nepal in­ cluding Namkading Cave, above Matsang River at Nyalam on the Nepalese border. Away from the monasteries and Gompas, the hermit life was an integral component of Tibetan Buddhism, and in the case of the Kagyu lineage, a prominent aspect. Caves were components of a dynamic mythic and symbolic landscape. Consequently, many cave sites survive largely in­ tact, although they have only recently become the subject of archaeological research (Aldenderfer 2005, 10). At Piyang in western Tibet over 1,100 caves of varying shapes and sizes have been discovered. Some were habitation sites, while others were probably meditation caves, and some have evidence for ritual architecture (Aldenderfer 2001). Much of the plateau near Tibet’s ca­ pital, Lhasa, has a limestone geology, where natural processes created caverns and rock shelters (Aldenderfer 2001). Here one of Tibet’s most important cave systems is the Guru Rinpoche (Padmasambhāva) complex southeast of Lhasa. The form and layout of these caves, which may date from about the 11th or 12th century AD, appear to have offered a variety of religious functions and lifestyles and range from small, artificial shelters that likely served as hermi­ tage or meditation sites, to larger, subterranean passages that contain altars, images, and wall paintings (Aldenderfer 2005, 11). By the time that Buddhism was being introduced to Tibet, both eremitic and cenobitic monasticism had become well-established in the Christian West. And it was these early Christian hermits; the so-called desert fathers

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and mothers, settling in the caves and ruins of the Nile Valley, that would form the basis and model for eremitic practice throughout the medieval period and beyond.

References Aldenderfer, M. (2001) ‘Piyang: A 10th/11th C A.D. Tibetan Buddhist Temple and Monastic Complex in Far Western Tibet’, Archaeology, Ethnology, and Anthropology of Eurasia, 4 (8), 138–146. Aldenderfer, M. (2005) ‘Caves as Sacred Places on the Tibetan plateau’, Expedition, 47 (3), 8–13. Bodart-Bailey, B. M. (ed. and trans.) (1999) Kaempfer’s Japan: Tokugawa Culture Observed. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Chang, G. C. C. (trans.) (1980) Sixty Songs of Milarepa. The Wheel Publication No. 95 / 97. Kandy, Sri Lanka: Buddhist Publication Society. Cleary, J. (trans.) (1998) The Blue Cliff Record. Moraga, CA: BDK America. Eskildsen, S. (1998) Asceticism in Early Taoist Religion. Albany: State University of New York Press. Freeman, L. (2011) ‘Introduction’, in R. Williams (ed.), Silence and Honey Cakes: The Wisdom of the Desert. Electronic Edition. Oxford: Lion Books, 7–14. Hinton, D. (2020) China Root: Taoism, Ch’an, and Original Zen. Boulder, CO: Shambala. Howard, A. F. (2015) ‘On “Art in the Dark” and Meditation in Central Asian Buddhist Caves’, The Eastern Buddhist, 46 (2), 19–40. Howard, A. F. and Vignato, G. (2014) Archaeological and Visual Sources of Meditation in the Ancient Kingdom of Kuča. Leiden: Brill. Kohn, L. (2008) Chinese Healing Exercises: The Tradition of Daoyin. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Mair, V. H. (1998) ‘Chuang-tzu’, in W. Nienhauser (ed.), The Indiana Companion to Traditional Chinese Literature, Part 2. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 20–26. Maspero, H. (1981) Taoism and Chinese Religion (trans. F. A. Kierman, Jr.). Massachusetts, MA: University of Massachusetts Press. Mitchell, S. (trans.) (1988) Tao Te Ching: A New English Version. New York: Harper Collins. Stevens, J. (2006) One Robe, One Bowl: The Zen Poetry of Ryōkan. Toronto: Weatherhill. Vervoorn, A. (1990) The Men of the Cliffs and Caves: Development of the Chinese Eremitic Tradition to the End of the Han Dynasty. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press. Waddell, N. (2010) Wild Ivy: The Spiritual Autobiography of Zen Master Hakuin. Boulder, CO: Shambala. Yamada, K. (2004) The Gateless Gate: The Classic Book of Zen Koans. Somerville, MA: Wisdom Publications.

4

The Desert Hermitage in Early Christianity

This chapter will examine the archaeological and literary evidence for preChristian and early Christian hermits and hermitages. Its aim is to offer some background to the formative period of Christian eremitism thereby giving some context to the later development of medieval eremitism explored in the proceeding chapters. Throughout history the principal model for the Christian hermit were the desert fathers and mothers. Their recorded lives, sayings and acts provided both the inspiration and the paradigm for their later medieval brothers and sisters. These early Christian pioneers lived in solitude or as part of an eremitic community. Such ‘conjugal’ solitude may first appear to be incompatible. But as the desert mother Amma Syncletica famously stated it was possible ‘to be a solitary in one’s mind while living in a crowd’, but equally it was also possible ‘for one who is a solitary to live in the crowd of his own thoughts’ (Chryssavgis 2008, 30). In this light, and as we have already seen with reference to early Taoist and Buddhist hermits, solitude was essentially a state of mind or being, whether alone or within a supportive community. In many ways, the presence of likeminded in­ dividuals supported and nourished the eremitic life, and at times may have provided mutual security, fraternity and solidarity. These early Christian hermits and eremitic communities created the model for later medieval eremitism, but it was a model that emerged out of a society that was so­ phisticated, cosmopolitan and religiously diverse.

The Hermit Ideal: East and West The desert fathers and mothers of the 3rd and 4th centuries were in effect the architects and pioneers of Christian monasticism and related ascetic practice. Although a religious movement with roots in Judaism, early Christianity evolved culturally and geo-politically within the Greco-Roman world. In this context, there was almost certainly an awareness of earlier and existing forms of Classical asceticism, particularly in educated and theological circles. The practice of self-denial and celibacy, which was to be the bedrock of early Christian ascetic practice, had parallels, for example, in the philosophy of the Greek Stoics (Chadwick 1967, 55–6). Certainly, some early Christian writers, DOI: 10.4324/9780429024559-5

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such as Clement of Alexandria (c. AD 150–215) had acknowledged the existence of other non-Christian groups that indulged in ascetic practice and had em­ braced a form of eremitic life. Many of these groups were no doubt viewed by some as unorthodox, wrongly motivated and ‘ultimately of little profit’ (Clark 1999, 17). However other early Christian theologians such as Dion of Prusa, known as ‘Chrysostomos’ (c. AD 40–115) and Origen (c. AD 184–253) praised Indian ascetics for their devotion to God, and their renunciation of the pleasures of the world (Vassiliades 2004, 163). Clement himself referred to Indian phi­ losophers who followed the ‘precepts of Vouta’ (Buddha) (Vassiliades 2004, 144). Thus, early Christianity and the eremitic tradition which followed, emerged out of a cosmopolitan and eclectic world. Early Christian centres such as Alexandria in Egypt provided a rich interfaith environment where the cir­ culation and diffusion of ideas were drawn from Judaism, Classical paganism and even Indian belief systems. In this light, it is plausible that knowledge of preChristian eremitic practice might have been common. However, there is no tangible evidence that Eastern eremitism directly in­ fluenced and informed early Christian practices. Nonetheless, as we have seen there was an awareness, if not knowledge, of non-Christian and Classical traditions. And it was within this, principally urban scene, that new ideas and spiritualities circulated and from which early Christianity and early Christian eremitic practice emerged. Many of the early desert fathers and mothers hailed from cosmopolitan cities. Athanasius, the disciple and hagiographer of one of the earliest desert fathers, St Antony, came from the metropolis of Alexandria. Antony himself came from a small village called Coma which was close to the classical city of Heracleopolis Magna. St Pachomius, the founder of cenobitic monasticism, was born in the ancient Egyptian city of Thebes (modern Luxor). Encounters between the Classical world and early Indian religion were reported by the Greek traveller Megasthenes, as early as the 4th century BC. Greek and Roman trading ports in India and Ceylon (Sri Lanka) were well established by the early Christian period and small communities of Indian merchants and immigrants had established themselves in the cosmopolitan centres of Egypt and Syria. By the turn of the 1st millennium AD an im­ portant network of trade routes connecting the East and West had been es­ tablished which facilitated not only trade, but cultural, artistic and religious ideas. In this light, it may be presumed that long-standing Classical and pagan ideas of asceticism and renunciation had been firmly embedded in the societies from which early Christianity emerged. The network of trade routes, collectively known as the ‘Silk Road’, was central to the economic, cultural, political and religious interactions between the European and Asian continents. Its influence was extensive and stret­ ched from Chang’an (now Xi’an) in eastern China to Constantinople (modern Istanbul, Turkey) in the Eastern Roman Empire and within this sphere of influence lay many diverse cultural and religious centres. The re­ gion of Kuča, for example with its cave hermitages, discussed previously, was located along the Silk Road’s northern Route. Consequently, the Silk

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Road facilitated, via travellers, pilgrims and merchants, the transmission of religion between the East and the West including Judaism, Islam, Christianity and Buddhism. Christianity was known in China by at least the 7th century. At Chang’an a stele or inscribed stone monument (known as the Xian Stele and Nestorian Stone) was discovered in the 17th century. Originally erected in AD 781, the tablet recorded 150 years of early Christianity in China. At the Silk Road Buddhist cave complex of Dunhuang, in western China, several Christian and Jewish artefacts were uncovered in caves which revealed the diversity of cultural and religious interaction. Discovered in 1907, the Jingjiao Documents (sometimes referred to as the ‘Jesus Sutras’) are a collection of Chinese language texts connected with the 7th-century mission of Alopen, a Nestorian Bishop and the first recorded Christian missionary to China. The documents reflected Christianity’s interaction with Chinese culture especially in the form of Buddhist and Taoist interpretations of Jesus’s life and teachings (Bays 2011). Throughout its history the Silk Road continued to facilitate the interchange of cultural and religious ideas. Over the centuries, many of these travellers, missionaries and explorers would have encountered the ancient monasteries and hermitages along the Silk Road and this led to a longstanding awareness of religious practice in the East, including hermitages and models of cenobitic and eremitic monasticism. By the 3rd century AD, a comparative eremitism began to materialise in the valleys and deserts of the Middle East, on the edges of the late Classical world. These eremitic practices would develop in the context of a nascent early Christian church, that was seeking to explore dynamic frames of reference for emerging forms and structures of spirituality and religious life.

Pre-Christian Hermits The manifestation of Christian cenobitic monasticism in the deserts of Egypt in the 3rd and 4th centuries AD was influenced by a number of factors, in­ cluding pre-existing eremitic individuals and communities such as the Essenes based at Qumran in modern Israel. Much like the early Indian eremitic movements many of these groups represented new creative forms of religious expression. There were some parallels between the Essenes and various an­ cient Greek societies particularly concerning the model of men leaving their families and communities, which was previously ‘unheard of’ in the Jewish world (Shorto 2012, 78). Another pre-Christian religious group was the Theraputae recorded by the Jewish scholar Philo (20 BC–c. AD 50). Unlike the Essenes, the Theraputae, reportedly did not live in common residences but in separate dwellings (Sandelin 2014, 45). In the Old Testament early references to hermits often depicted them as radical prophetic visionaries, often living in mountainous refuges, rough and scantily dressed. The Old Testament Book of Kings, which we can perhaps cautiously date to as early as the 7th century BC, described the prophet Elijah or Elias as wearing a ‘skin garment and leather girdle’ (2 Kings, 1, 8), and whose habit was to dwell in the clefts of the torrents

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(xvii, 3) or in the caves of the mountains (xix, 9), and sleeping under a scanty shelter (xix, 5). Somewhat later, the New Testament tells us that St John the Baptist lived like this in the desert. ‘The Forty days and Forty Nights’ that Jesus Christ spent in the wilderness also presented an early, perhaps ‘mythic’ model of the eremitic life and one, in particular, that the early Christian hermits were keen to follow or at least aspire to. A number of early sites had particular associations with the life of Jesus Christ. Many natural and artificial caves found in the region of Al-Maghtas or ‘Bethany Beyond the Jordan’, east of the Jordan River, may date to this early period. It was here that Jesus was reportedly baptised and therefore a place of particular spiritual resonance. It is also possible that this was be­ lieved to have been the place where he spent his ‘wilderness’ years. The area is UNESCO listed and physical remains associated with St John the Baptist and Christ’s baptism include a number of churches and monasteries, hermit caves and a cruciform baptismal pool (Figure 4.1). Archaeological survey and excavations in the area revealed evidence for five caves that were in­ terpreted as former hermit cells (Waheeb 2004). Two sites were close to the river and three near the later Byzantine monastery on Elijah’s Hill, where tradition has it the Prophet Elijah ascended to heaven. One of these caves had special significance in that was it later incorporated into the apse of the church and together with later pilgrim texts has been suggested to be the

Figure 4.1 Two-room hermit’s cave in the cliffs just east of the Jordan River on the site of Bethany Beyond the Jordan (David Stanley).

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place of John the Baptist’s cave. The cave may have been associated with a natural spring, which was also architecturally incorporated into the later church and has been suggested, by the excavators, to have possibly been once used for early baptismal rites (Waheeb 2004). The earliest gospel, Mark, described Jesus and his disciples travelling to the Mount of Olives after the Last Supper to ‘a place called Gethsemane’ (Mark 14:32). As well as olive groves and gardens, Gethsemane was also the site of a large cave known as the Cave of the Olive Press. Here, excavations conducted by Franciscan monks in 1950s revealed evidence for a former grotto adapted for the use of olive oil presses with evidence for internal wells and with an entrance around 5 metres wide. The cave has since been adapted as a chapel and place of pilgrimage. Despite the alterations over time, early accounts do provide some information about the cave interior including one account from Adomnán’s De Locis Sanctis (15.1–3) from the 7th century: Not far above the Church of the Saint Mary on the Mount of Olives there is a cave which faces the Valley of Jehoshaphat … This cave also contains four rock tables. One of them, which is just inside the entrance, is that of the Lord Jesus, and sometimes his seat was certainly beside this small table … and the twelve Apostles reclined there with him at the other tables … this cave has a small entrance which is closed by a wooden door, and he paid it many visits. (Wilkinson 1977) Although it is clear from this report that if this was indeed a sometime shelter used by Jesus and his disciples, it was likely to have been a communal dwelling rather than a hermitage. However, the connection between Jesus and caves may have contributed to the later specifically religious significance of such places.

Early Christian Hermits and Hermitages By the 4th century AD, Christianity had spread throughout the Mediterranean Basin, as well as making inroads in Western Europe and the East. By this time, early Christian communities were evolving into more institutionalised forms together with the development of a coherent church doctrine. Moreover, by the 4th century Christian hermits had begun to forge alternative places and communities in the deserts of Egypt and elsewhere, particularly in the form of the so-called desert fathers and mothers who settled in the Nile Valley. One principal locality was the Nitrian Desert region of Wadi Al-Natrun in northern Egypt. The region comprises a narrow, 35-km-long depression below sea level west of the Nile Delta and has long been associated with hermits and eremitic communities. The region is also referred to as ‘Scetis’, which comes from the Coptic shi het, ‘to weight the heart’. In Greek, it is known as Scetes, which means ‘the ascetics’. Here in an area that comprised desert, swamps and salt

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marshes, early Christian pioneers created hermitages that would set out an inedible blueprint for centuries to come. The emergence of Christian eremitic lifestyles in the harsh and isolated Egyptian desert served as one of many dy­ namic and personal responses to developing modes of Christian faith. The wilderness provided a well-suited environmental context for eremitic practice and consequently the hermit was required to adapt a particular psychological state of mind. This state of Xeniteia; the state of being a stranger or foreigner (xenos), was integral to early Christian eremitic belief. This form of renuncia­ tion was considered the essential starting point for a new spiritual orientation that not only required physical isolation but also a state of mind commensurate with this. As the theologian John Cassian (c. AD 360–435) wrote, this ‘radical retreat’ to the desert was the ultimate challenge and represented the zenith of monastic life (Rapp 2006, 106). Many of these ‘radical’ hermits were often educated men and women who renounced their former luxuries and urban comforts to seek silence and solitude in the caves and ruined temples of the desert. Here they aspired to experience a new form of spirituality rooted in the life, teaching and example of Jesus Christ.

Caves, Ruins and Mausolea From the late 3rd and 4th centuries hermits and eremitic communities began to flourish across Egypt and subsequently into Palestine, the Sinai Peninsula, Mesopotamia, Syria and Asia Minor. The potency and attraction of the hermit ideal was undeniable and infectious and within two centuries this ideal of the desert hermit could be found as far west as the coasts of Ireland. In Egypt, many of the first hermits settled in old ruins or mortuary complexes which would have littered the fertile Nile Delta. Many of these ruins can still be seen today. Caves were also predominant in these regions and, has we have previously seen, offered convenient refuges. Many of the earliest hermits, such as St Paul of Thebes and St Antony, were connected to caves sites many of which later become important monasteries. Caves would certainly have offered convenience and durability, offering shelter, but may have also had a symbolic value. The idea of the cave or underground chamber, with its sensuous interplay of light and dark, was an important ritual context for some pre-Christian and contemporary religions within the Roman Empire, including the mystery cult of Mithras, a religion with Eastern origins. Remains of Mithraic temples across the former Roman Empire reveal that the ceilings of their enclosed dark interiors were decorated with stars to mimic the night sky. At the eastern end of the temple was the apsidal ‘cave’ in which resided the central image of the God Mithras slaying the Bull. Caves might also have evoked a sense of the hidden or arcane. There may have also been an association with death, since many cave sites had once served as burial chambers or mausolea, including the celebrated example of the tomb of Christ himself scene of one of Christianity’s most important events, the Resurrection. But the vast expanse of the desert itself also held significance for the early

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Christian imagination. Here, to the urban Christian in particular, the wild and vast spacious wilderness of the Egyptian desert must have given a sense of foreboding, as well as an acute awareness that this was also the abode of both the ancient dead and of pagan deities. The abandoned temples and mausolea that littered the desert would have been places that were both architecturally alien but also replete with symbols, hieroglyphs and ruinous images of for­ gotten deities. This perception might have been especially true with the native Egyptians who joined the religious communities and who would have been well-acquainted with myths and stories of the deserts and its ruins (Rapp 2006, 97). However, many former Egyptian temples and structures would have also offered up sheltered spaces for refuge as well as building materials that could be reused for new hermitages. The choice of caves, ruins or mausolea as hermitages also provided a suitable environment for penitential practice (as they were religiously im­ pure) or served as ‘spiritual battlegrounds’ against persistent paganising deities. In this light, the monk’s cave or cell was described in contemporary writings as effectively ‘the furnace of Babylon’. St Antony’s famous with­ drawal into the desert may have amounted to nothing less than a territorial battle with demons (Rapp 2006, 98), as well as a personal battle in a wider war concerned with the Christianisation of the desert. Antony’s reported walling of himself up in a tomb can also be seen in this context. It was also a tradition that can later be found elsewhere, including with Athanasius himself, who spent some time in exile hiding in his father’s tomb, and a female hermit named Alexandra who lived in a tomb when she was visited by the desert mother Melania the Elder (King 1983). Excavations at the Monastery of Epiphanius between 1911 and 1912 close to the ancient mortuary site of Thebes, in southern Egypt, disclosed that monks had converted this long-abandoned Middle Kingdom tomb into a residence. A small boundary or enclosure wall was also uncovered and was originally used to define the limits of their small community. Other features included a loom pit, two ovens and a collection of papyri (Winlock and Crum 1926). At Tell el-Amarna in the Nile Valley a series of stone huts are reasonably wellpreserved. The location also makes it clear that the original focus of the set­ tlement was the Pharaonic rock-cut tombs, one of which was later converted to a church (Jones 1991, 130). The Christian occupation of the tombs at TellAmarna may date to as early as the 3rd century AD (Jones 1991, 143). It is likely that this initial reoccupation, perhaps comprising only one or two in­ dividuals, had developed into larger community by the 5th or 6th centuries. The first structural phase comprised of mud brick buildings which must have stood at the entrance to some of the tombs. These were later replaced by free-standing and ‘lean-to’ structures made from limestone blocks with roofs supported on split palm logs whose ends may have been slotted into cut niches in the adjacent rock faces (Jones 1991, 133). Excavations also revealed evidence for used cooking pots and remains of ovens. A few kilometres north of Tell el-Amarna is a comparative hermitage site at Sheikh Said. Here the

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settlement was also concentrated in front of the tombs which may, in this case, have been adapted for specialised use, including dwellings, as well as a possible place for worship or a refectory (Jones 1991, 141). It is also clear from their respective locations that there must have been contact between the hermitages at Tell el-Amarna and Sheikh Said and local villages, as well as the me­ tropolitan centre of Hermopolis (Jones 1991, 144), a pattern that can be found with other early Christian sites.

Desert Hermits and Eremitic Communities According to Christian tradition, the first Christian hermit was St Paul of Thebes (c. AD 226/27–341) whose biography was written by St Jerome some 30 years after his death. Paul was followed by St Antony (AD 251–356) traditionally seen as the pioneer of eremitic monasticism, whose life was written by his contemporary, Athanasius, in the years following his death. Together with Pachomius (c. AD 290–347), a former Roman soldier and the founder of cenobitic monasticism, these names have forever been associated with the beginnings of early Christian monasticism. Athanasius’s Life of Antony had a deep significant influence on Christian life for centuries to come. It also gives an important insight into the nature of Antony’s re­ nunciation and consequent spiritual journey. The Life recorded that Antony had no formal education and that he was shy, yet deeply religious. Perhaps here we get a sense of an inherent reclusiveness that was to underpin his later life. At the age of 18, he became a renunciate, sold all his belongings and began to live the life of a hermit, moving into the eastern desert of Egypt away from common society. Although he was not the first Christian hermit, nonetheless Antony’s life extolled an ascetic form of Christianity which was to be held up as a model for the virtuous Christian religious life. Athanasius’s account of Antony’s spiritual journey from his village, to dwelling in mortuary sites, and then on to an ‘outer’ mountain, and finally an ‘inner’ mountain related what was as much a symbolic journey as a physical one (Dunn 2013, 12). Such a journey was symbolic in that it was both progressive and transformative. It may also, nonetheless, have been both a physical and experimental journey involving the investigation of several sites in order to explore the best context for living a spiritual life in solitude. Much like the examples of early Buddhist communities discussed previously, many early Christian desert pioneers sought and doubtless planned a long-term solitary life. Nonetheless, and perhaps inadvertently, the early hermits quickly attracted like-minded followers, or recognised an emerging requirement for a supportive community. The transitions from solitary hermit to eremitic community, and in some cases, to cenobitic monastery was a natural development in the growing popularity of this form of religious life. Over a relatively short period of time, the hermit was no longer a ‘solitary figure in a hut or cave’ but belonged to a group of pioneers (Leyser 1984, 3–4). Furthermore, the vocation of hermit or cenobitic monk

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were not necessarily mutually exclusive. Early church fathers like Jerome and Cassian viewed cenobitic life preferable to eremitic life, but only in the context that one should not be a hermit unless fully grounded in monastic life (Leyser 1984, 7–9). This was a sentiment later echoed by Benedict and others and suggests that both types of religious life were to an extent in­ terdependent. However, many early hermits were pioneers in the true sense of the word and at this formative period there were no formal rules and hermits and eremitic communities may have experienced a period of trial and experimentation, perhaps with varying amounts of success. Consequently, Cassian also identified a categorisation of monastics which he named sarabaites. These seem to have been individuals that lived in small groups but without reference to a specific rule or even a superior. Moreover, he further referred to an unnamed category of ‘bad monk’, which St Benedict a century later may have categorised as gyrovagues, or ‘pleasureseekers’ and wanderers. Although, as we shall see, these categories would later be more formally classified in the Benedictine Rule, during the 4th and 5th centuries we might assume that such categories refer to what was likely a wide range of individuals and communities with varying spiritual practices and ways of life, some of which were later viewed with various degrees of acceptability by church orthodoxy. Throughout its later history an important prerequisite for embarking on the life of a hermit was a firm grounding in the monastic life. This would allow the individual to learn self-discipline, to understand and experience orthodox practice, develop a rigorous faith and to stabilise a certain ma­ turity in both personal and religious life. It would also allow superiors to assay the suitability of any potential hermit. It may be that Cassian’s ‘bad monks’ were either those who were yet to fully experience the rigours of monastic life or ones that had avoided it completely. Undoubtedly some of these may have been wayward monks or itinerant wanderers. Yet, others were genuine seekers and ascetics who, as well as renouncing home and worldly comforts, perhaps renounced the very idea of organised religion itself. This may have included men and women who were true independents, the visionaries and mystics of an early Christianity that was still finding its place in the world. For women, opportunities to live the solitary life were limited, although there are some recorded examples. The Apophthegmata Patrum, or ‘Sayings of the Desert Fathers’, comprises a largely 5th-century collection of stories and sayings attributed to the early Christian hermits, both male and female. Within it are 47 sayings that are attributed to women, and these give a fascinating insight into the some of the personalities of early female hermits, as well as their relationship with male hermits and monks. Here, one particular episode involved the female hermit Sarah who experi­ enced some hostility from two visiting male hermits on account of her gender. Sarah’s reply was that she is a woman according to nature, but not according to her thoughts (Dunn 2013, 46). In this episode, Sarah can claim to rise above the simplistic duality exposed by the male hermits and espouse

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a state that goes beyond mere materiality and association with the body, a state that surely is the principal reason for the self-denying practices held by many hermits at this time. Palladius’s Lausiac History of c. AD 420 recorded 2,975 women living in the desert (Butler 1904). However, most of these women were living in single-sex monastic communities, or convents, an early and perhaps pioneering example being set up by Pachomius’s sister, Mary, in the 4th century (Dunn 2013, 46). The names and circumstances of these ‘desert mothers’ have come down to us and include Mary the Egyptian, the sisters Nymphodora, Menodora and Metrodona, Paula, Marcellina and Melania the Elder. Most of these female ascetics, many who came from aristocratic backgrounds, lived in monastic convents or were ‘house-ascetics’ rather than living out a more solitary existence. This may have included the site of Atripe, close to a former Ptolemaic temple near Sohag, Egypt. Part of this was due no doubt to the social constraints on women, but also on issues surrounding safety and personal security in a potentially hostile environment. However, there were no apparent constraints on travel or pilgrimage and both Paula and Melania the Elder visited and stayed at the religious centre at Nitria (Murphy 1947, 68) and Paula may have planned to found her own convent nearby (Dunn 2013, 49). The 5th century witnessed more formal collections of some of the sayings and stories of the early Christian nuns and monks. These collections, such as the Apophthegmata Patrum and Cassian’s Conferences of the Desert Fathers were increasingly used as ‘coherent guides’ and give im­ portant detail into a life of prayer and asceticism (Williams 2011, 19). This ‘guidance’ was in no way uniform, and the early collections reflect differences in practice, emphasis and theology and reflect a diversity in early monastic discipline (ibid).

From Hermitage to Monastery The historical evidence, including the categorisation of hermits by the early church, gives us a potentially complex picture of a wide variety of different institutional forms and types. The archaeological evidence for the eremitic and cenobitic life might be also expected to present differing forms of ma­ terial culture, with the former perhaps reflecting a certain simplicity of living. However, the actual picture is more complicated and we must also take into account the relative ephemeral nature of the hermit life. This in essence might be singular and transitory, largely rejecting material goods (and resultant archaeological traces) and may comprise, as we have seen, only a reused temple, cave or at best a rudimentary structure. Moreover, the fact that many solitary hermitages would later evolve into fully monastic institutions would mean that any earlier phases of an eremitic nature might be obscured and incorporated into later complexes, or simply erased. In some case these ‘institutional’ transformations might only take a small number of years, rather than centuries. We should also be careful not to view the hermit life as one that necessarily completely abandoned human

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contact. Communication must have been essential in many cases, for practical reasons such as the securing of provisions, as well as at certain times, support and security. However, in many cases, contact would be limited, or regulated at best. Nonetheless we cannot view the lives of early hermits as just being one of complete and utter human avoidance. Hermits not only attracted followers and communities but also people eager for counsel. At Gaza in Palestine, the hermit Hilarion (AD 291–371) who spent 50 years in solitude, was continually ‘pursued by clients’ to the extent that he was reportedly forced to leave and travel around the Eastern Mediterranean (Roumbalou 2000, 582). In other instances, hermits must have aroused some curiosity. Saint Simeon Stylites, who famously lived on top of a column or pillar near Aleppo, Syria, regularly attracted crowds of onlookers, some of whom left offerings at the pillar base. He was also often called upon to mediate in village disputes (Brown 1971, 84, 90). In Egypt, where the growth of deserts hermitages and monasteries in the Nile Delta was increasingly proliferate by the 5th century, many sites were beginning to acquire no small measure of renown. For example, the important early religious complex of hermitages and monasteries at Kellia had connections with Alexandria, where it had reportedly achieved ‘national significance’ (Jones 1991, 129). Consequently, the communities at many early religious sites, some that were originally founded as rather small scale hermitages, substantially increased throughout this period. The later phases of many early monastic sites in Egypt reveal evidence for well-established and ordered monastic communities (Brooks Hedstrom 2013). By the first few decades of the 4th century AD, rigorous ascetic groups were located at Nitria, Scetis and Kellia, in the Nitrian Desert, and may represent the earliest Christian monastic sites in Egypt. The nature of some of these early eremitic communities may have primarily emphasised solitary life and practice but within a supportive network of other hermits, a ‘conjugal solitude’. For example, at Nitria, in Egypt, the hermits lived in cells alone or with one or two companions. The community at Nitria was an early form of what would come to be termed lavra or laura (hermit group), a term that is often more generally applied to semi-eremitic communities which were founded in the Judaean Desert. Lavra consisted of a number of caverns sited at a distance from one another under the overall direction of an Elder. This might have taken the form of a row or cluster of cells grouped around a common centre which included a bakery as well as an oratory or church. Here, hermits would assemble on Sunday and participate in vigils on Saturday night as well as enjoy a weekly common meal (Roumbalou 2000, 582). The arrangements required to sustain an eremitic life in a monastic community can also be seen at Kellia, whose remains were discovered in the 1960s (Figure 4.2). Here we are informed by the Greek historian Flavius Rufinus, writer of Historia Monachorum in Aegypto (c. AD 400) that Kellia was for more developed and senior monks who ‘lived a more remote life, stripped down to bare rudiments’. Their cells were arranged far enough

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Figure 4.2 Remains of former eremitic communities at Kellia, Egypt. The remains of cells buildings and circuit walls of the individual monastic communities are still visible (Public Domain, Creative Commons).

apart that ‘no one can catch sight of another nor can a voice be heard’ (Harmless 2004, 281), and the remains at Kellia are still visible. The ar­ chaeology of some of the earliest 5th-century mud-built structures at Kellia, and their spatial arrangements, suggest that monks lived singularly or in twos (Brooks Hedstrom 2019, 157). In this sense, Kellia could perhaps be classed as a semi-eremitic community although in practice monks would have focussed perhaps on individual prayer and contemplation rather than communal ritual activities. One of the most extensively studied early Christian monasteries, the White Monastery at Sohag in Upper Egypt was clearly part of a larger federation, including a context for eremitism. This complex, founded by Shenoute of Atripe (AD 348–465), included a second men’s community to the north, a nunnery to the south in the village of Atripe as well as a group of hermitages in the western cliffs (Brooks Hedstrom and Bolman 2012, 333–334).

Beyond Egypt By the 5th and 6th century the hermit ideal had extended northwards to Syria, Jordan and Palestine. Syria was viewed by the emerging church as the ‘Wild West’ of ascetic heresy and where the hermits referred to themselves as the ‘men of the mountains’ (Brown 1971, 84). In Syria, two distinct types of asceticism appear to have developed; one that followed the Egyptian model and another that was characterised by individualism and spiritual asceticism (Roumbalou 2000, 582). This latter group included solitaries that chained

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Figure 4.3 Remains of column and base of St Simeon at Saint Simeon Stylites Basilica, near Aleppo, Syria (Public Domain, Creative Commons).

themselves to rocks and the stylites who lived on top of columns and pillars and included the famous Simeon the Stylite. The 5th-century author Theodoret of Cyrrhus in his Vita Symeonis, records that Simeon spent 28 years on his pillar after first being originally tied to a beam so that he would not topple over (Doran 1992, Theodoret, Vita Symeonis 26). Possible remains of the pillar and base survive today close to the former Saint Simeon Stylites Basilica near Aleppo, Syria (Figure 4.3). Perhaps one of the most remarkable pillar hermitages to survive, and indeed is still in use today, is the hermitage on the Katskhi Pillar in Georgia. A survey between 1999 and 2009 identified the ruins of an early medieval hermitage dating to at least the 9th or 10th century. On the top of the pillar and within a small walled terrace the remains of a medieval church and three cells survive (Loosley 2015). There is also a more recently built church dedicated to Simeon Stylites. Although Simeon’s disciple Daniel established a similar practice just outside of Constantinople in the 5th century AD, the Stylites’ particular form of ascetic practice was not to take root in Western Christianity. Here the hermit ideal would encounter a culture, environments and conditions very different to the deserts of Egypt.

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In Asia Minor and the later Byzantine Empire (an area roughly encom­ passing modern Turkey), the monastic model that evolved was one that generally encompassed a regulated but moderate community life. St Basil of Caesarea who founded a monastic community in Cappadocia, Turkey, in AD 356 had toured Egypt and Syria and his model for the monastic life was instrumental in the development of Eastern monasticism. This model com­ prised a collection of responses concerning the nature of monastic life, rather than a formal constitution. It appears that Basil was generally unimpressed with ascetic life as he has seen it practiced in Egypt and Syria and sought to emphasis the spiritual superiority of the cenobitic or communal life. Consequently, according to the church historian Sozomen writing a century later, there were no hermits but only coenobites in Cappadocia and its provinces. However, by the Middle Byzantine period (c. AD 843–1204) we see the emergence of what has been termed ‘hybrid’ monasticism which in essence represented a combination of elements drawn from both the eremitic lavra and cenobitic traditions (Roumbalou 2000, 582–583). As eremitic ideals began to take firmer root in the Christian Byzantine world, the es­ tablishment of hermit communities had as much to do with geography and landscape as religious initiative. By the 9th century the fertile lands bor­ dering the Sea of Marmara and the Aegean Sea supported cenobitic mon­ asteries, particularly in the Constantinople region and around Mount Olympus, Greece (Roumbalou 2000, 583). In contrast, the wilder and more inhospitable regions provided more of a natural setting for solitaries and hermits. The geology was often a determining factor for the founding of hermitages and early eremitic communities, especially in the form of rocky outcrops which afforded a particular eminence enhanced by an elevated location. In central Greece a remarkable and dramatic outcrop of rocks supplied the basis for a community of hermits around Meteora, at least by the 10th century. Some of these hermitages were over 2,000 metres above the ground and must have not only been physically isolated, but perilously in­ accessible. Traces of these rock-cut caves can still be seen incised in the pillar-like rock formations arrowing up from the plain of Thessaly. In the Göreme Valley, Turkey, an unusual terrain of pocked-marked cliff faces, containing honey-combed cave dwellings and rock-cut churches, still testifies to the highland landscape that was once the home of early eremitic com­ munities, many of whom had originally come from the urban Christian communities at Caesarea (Kayseri). At the very centre of Byzantine power and Orthodox Christianity itself, Constantinople, hermits congregated around the city on the hills and mountains to the southeast of the city. Chief among these was Auxentius of Bithynia who originally served in the Equestrian Guard of Byzantine Emperor Theodosius II. Sometime in the early 5th century, he left to become a hermit, settling first on Mt Oxia near the city and then later Mt Scopas in Bithynia, about 20 km away and close to the important early Christian community at Chalcedon (Kazhdan 1983, 551). This mountain is today called Kayışdağ in the Kadiköy area of

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Istanbul. No trace of this hermitage survives. However, the hill itself can still be seen, and is thickly wooded with commanding views across the Sea of Marmara. It is not the intention of this study to trace the development of cenobitic monasticism, except where it overlaps, or as in most cases, directly relates to an earlier eremitic phase. Such is the case with the monasteries at Mount Athos in Greece, one of the most important monastic complexes in the later Byzantine world and one which bears the imprint of an earlier, and no doubt modest eremitic ancestor. The monastery, which is still active today, was originally founded in AD 963 as an association of monasteries or lavra af­ filiated to the Eastern Orthodox tradition. This monastery became the most important centre for Orthodox Christian ascetic groups in the centuries that followed. However, sometime before the first monasteries were set up this narrow peninsula was settled by individual hermits seeking a remote and uninhabited refuge from the world. Inspired no doubt by the writings and sayings (Apophthegmata) of the original desert fathers and mothers, the hermits of Mount Athos were to adapt 4th- and 5th-century instructions to a new environment (Herrin 2007, 192). Mt Athos was perfectly suited to the eremitic life: a narrow mountainous peninsula surrounded on three sides by the Aegean Sea. Here, in this context the wild, vast open sea now commu­ nicated and embodied the barren desert expanse of the early Egyptian hermits. And this was to set a characteristic model for many early hermi­ tages that developed in the more temperate and seaboard regions of Europe. The character and ideal of the hermit life and its architectural context in the medieval Christian West was not one that was transmitted in a direct linear progression from the east. Neither was it an evolution that ‘began’ in the East and culminated in medieval Western forms. Rather, the hermit was an ideal that was inherent to, and that moved in tandem with, Christianity itself. In fact, it was an integral component of early Christianity and pro­ vided both the bedrock of the religious life and a continuing source of in­ spiration. The Christian hermit was in many ways born of the lineage of the Old Testament ascetics, with arguably a nod perhaps to the Classical and Eastern worlds, but it was framed in the lives and ideals of new Christian pioneers and models of monastic life. The desert fathers and mothers were to retain a preeminent place in the evolving life of medieval Christianity as it confronted the post-Roman Western world.

References Bays, D. H. (2011) A New History of Christianity in China. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell. Brooks Hedstrom, D. L. (2013) ‘Models of Seeing and Reading Monastic Archaeology’, Journal of Cistercian Studies Quarterly, 48 (3), 299–315. Brooks Hedstrom, D. L. (2019) ‘Archaeology of Early Monastic Communities’, in D. K. Pettegrew, W. Caraher and T. Davis (eds.), Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Archaeology. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 147–166.

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Brooks Hedstrom, D. L. and Bolman, E. S. (2012) ‘The White Monastery Federation Project: Survey and Mapping at the Monastery of Apa Shenoute (Dayr al-Anba Shinūda), Sohag, 2005–2007’, Dumbarton Oaks Papers, 65/66 (2011–2012), 333–364. Brown, P. (1971) ‘The Rise and the Function of the Holy Man’, Journal of Roman Studies, 61, 80–101. Butler, C. (1904) Palladius, The Lausiac History. Cambridge: University Press. Chadwick, Η. (1967) The Early Church. The Penguin History of the Church, 1st ed. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books. Chryssavgis, J. (2008) In the Heart of the Desert: The Spirituality of the Desert Fathers and Mothers (rev. ed.). Bloomington, IN: World Wisdom. Clark, E. (1999) Reading Renunciation: Asceticism and Scripture in Early Christianity. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Doran, R. (1992) The Lives of Simeon Stylites. Kalamazoo, MI: Cistercian Publications. Dunn, M. (2013) The Emergence of Monasticism: From the Desert Fathers to the Early Middle Ages. Oxford: Blackwell. Harmless, W. (2004) Desert Christians: An Introduction to the Literature of Early Monasticism. Oxford: Oxford University Princeton. Herrin, J. (2007) Byzantium: The Surprising Life of a Medieval Empire. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Jones, M. (1991) ‘The Early Christian Sites at Tell El-Amarna and Sheikh Said’, Journal of Egyptian Archaeology, 77, 129–144. Kazhdan, A. (1983) ‘Hagiographical Notes: Two versions of the “Vita Athanasii”’, Byzantion, 53 (2), 538–558. King, M. (1983) The Desert Mothers: A Survey of the Feminine Anchoritic Tradition in Western Europe. Toronto: Peregrina Publishing. Leyser, H. (1984) Hermits and the New Monasticism: A Study of Religious Communities in Western Europe 1000–1150. London: Macmillan. Loosley, E. (2015) ‘Katskhi Pillar’ in Collectanea Christiana Orientalia 12, 287–306. Murphy, F. X. (1947) ‘Melania the Elder: A Biographical Note’, Traditio, 5, 59–77. Rapp, C. (2006) ‘Desert, City, and Countryside in the Early Christian Imagination’, in J. Dijkstra and M. van Dijk (eds.), The Encroaching Desert: Egyptian Hagiography and the Medieval West. Leiden: Brill, 92–112. Roumbalou, M. (2000) ‘Hermits: Eastern Christian’, in W. M. Johnston (ed.), Encyclopedia of Monasticism. London and New York: Routledge, 579–583. Sandelin, K.-G. (2014) ‘Philo as a Jew’, in T. Seland (ed.), Reading Philo: A Handbook to Philo of Alexandria. Grand Rapids, MI: B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 19–46. Shorto, R. (2012) Gospel Truth: On the Trail of the Historical Jesus. New York: Open Road Media. Vassiliades, D. (2004) ‘Greeks and Buddhism: Historical Contacts in the Development of a Universal Religion’, in The Eastern Buddhist, 36 (1/2), 134–183. Waheeb, M. (2004) ‘The Hermit Caves in Bethany Beyond the Jordan (Baptism Site)’, Studies in the History and Archaeology of Jordan, 08, 477–484. Wilkinson, J. (1977) Jerusalem Pilgrims Before the Crusades. Warminster: Aris and Phillips. Williams, R. (2011) Silence and Honey Cakes: The Wisdom of the Desert. Electronic Edition. Oxford: Lion Books. Winlock, H. E. and Crum, W. E. (1926) The Monastery of Epiphanius at Thebes, 2 vol., New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Part II

5

Hermits and Hermitages in the Post-Roman and Early Medieval West: An Overview

The writings of late Roman and early Christian writers had for a long time introduced concepts of solitude and silence to the early medieval world. Like Amma Syncletica two centuries later the Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius (AD 121–180) acknowledged solitude as a state of mind in that the con­ templative may naturally ‘seek retreats for ourselves, houses in the country, seashores, mountains. But … we have in our power to retire into ourselves’ (Marcus Aurelius (121–180), ‘Meditations’ 4.3. in Hammond 2006). However, it was Athanasius’s Life of Antony that was to have the most pronounced and sustained impact on Western Christianity throughout the medieval period and may have been instrumental in introducing the way of the hermit to a Western audience (Jones 2000, 584). Antony’s religious life was also one framed by the creation of a number of hermitages in the form of what he termed his ‘outer’ and ‘inner’ mountains. As well as being the hagiographer of Antony, Athanasius was also a former disciple, and it was perhaps this intimacy and lineage which were of equal importance when he travelled to the West. In the 4th century, Athanasius travelled to Italy and Gaul during his exile from his bishopric in Alexandria. Here, his presence would have certainly had some influence within Western ecclesiastical circles. The Life of Antony would have presented both a heroic model for the hermit’s life, as well as a source of inspiration and even motivation for its adoption in the West. Here the pre­ sence of Athanasius himself would have also manifested a tangible and le­ gitimate link to the person of Antony. However, eremitism as a religious vocation was also a natural and organic response to emerging Christian spirituality. Like Buddhism, Christianity placed special emphasis on personal salvation and liberation. The hermit life was something that went hand in hand with the advance of Christianity itself. Although The Life and other such early sources would have provided an example rooted in almost mythic tradition, the motivation for the ere­ mitic life in the West was as much a creative and natural expression of personal spirituality. It was dynamic, and at times a rather chaotic phe­ nomenon. By the late 4th and early 5th centuries, there was a ‘virtual ex­ plosion of wandering monks all around the Mediterranean’ (Bouchard 2015, 194). Many of these renunciants and wanderers were initially viewed with a DOI: 10.4324/9780429024559-7

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measure of suspicion by the church hierarchy. This was largely because such individuals had no legal status, being neither clergy nor, technically, laymen. But perhaps more worryingly for the church these wanderers (termed gy­ rovagi) included men who claimed apostolic precedent. Thus, by their per­ ceived holiness there was a danger that this could be viewed as undermining the established, and less ‘alternative’, clergy. Undoubtedly, many of these wanderers were serious, dedicated holy men. Equally others were no doubt wild and self-radicalised, and to others still a peripatetic life came to con­ stitute a special form of monastic spirituality. In the spirit of true re­ nunciation, it was a quest for the ascetic qualities of the state of detachment and a monastic urge to become the embodiment of scripture (Dietz 2005).

St Martin and the Hermitage Retreat The gradual breakdown of social order and civic responsibility in the late Roman West from the 3rd century onwards, as well as the increasing impact of Christianity, provided a fertile environment for the gradual manifestation of the eremitic life as an acceptable form of religious vocation. In one sense, and as we have seen, this background presented both opportunity and context for the emergence of a radical spirit of renunciation. However, late Roman European society also maintained a remnant and enduring legacy of a long-standing Classical institutional framework. This was inherited, and to an extent adopted, by early Christianity, and this is especially noticeable in the development of models of royal power as well as the establishment of an institutionalised church and the consequent growth of regulated monasti­ cism. One of the key Western figures in early Christianity at this time was the bishop and oft-times hermit, St Martin of Tours (AD 316/336–397). A former Roman soldier, Martin founded early hermitages in Gaul at Ligugé, near Poitiers, and later at Marmoutier, near Tours (France). Much has been written about Martin, but his story offers an interesting insight into the reliability of contemporary accounts and hagiography when faced with the material evidence presented by archaeology. According to contemporary accounts, in the early 360s Martin established a hermitage at Ligugé. Despite reference to Martin and his followers living in caves and wooden huts (the name Ligugé may derive from locaciacum meaning ‘small hut’), it is possible that the actual situation was somewhat different. This can be ar­ gued through considering the evidence from Martin’s later hermitage at Marmoutier, on the opposite shore of the river Loire from Tours. Substantial archaeological evidence has been revealed at Marmoutier which can be cross-referenced with the accounts of Martin’s contemporary ha­ giographer, Severus Sulpicius. In the Vita Sancti Martini, Severus writes that at Marmoutier Martin ‘lived in a cell adjoining the church’. Then, unable to bear the inconvenience of those who visited him, he set up a hermitage about two miles outside the walls of the city. This retreat, we are told, was so remote that it had ‘nothing to envy the solitude of a desert’. On one side, we

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are told, it was surrounded by the steep cliff of a high mountain, and the rest of the ground was enclosed in a slight meander of the Loire; there was only one narrow access road (Lorans 2012, 177). Excavations in and around the area of the later abbey church at Marmoutier revealed evidence for occu­ pation from the 1st or 2nd century AD, as well as traces of a road or pathway that followed the line of the hillside and echoed the access road to the abbey from Martin’s hermitage as reported by Severus (Lorans, Marot and Simon 2015). As noted, the Vita described a site that was remote and desert-like where Martin lived in a wooden cell whilst many of his brethren resided in hollowed-out shelters in the rock of the over-hanging mountain (Gervers 1967, 11). However, the ‘caves’ on the site, traditionally thought to be the original Martinian hermitages, have been revealed to be later in date and were probably the result of quarrying for the Romanesque abbey buildings in or around the 11th century (Gervers 1967, 11). This raises the question of where the actual location of the hermitages was, and what form they took. There is archaeological evidence for the presence of a suburban villa close by, significantly with occupation levels dating to the 4th century. Consequently, it has been argued that it was this villa in fact that served as Martin’s hermitage (Lorans 2012). The stratigraphic evidence from the ex­ cavations indicated continuous occupation from antiquity. There is no evidence for abandonment, which is normally supposed in the 3rd century in accordance with the historiography of a period of unrest and devastation (Lorans 2012, 198). The 4th-century villa was a large and a seemingly wellappointed building with the oldest earthen floors replaced by opus signium, a Roman construction technique of brick or mosaic fragments set in mortar. Fragments of painted plaster, probably from the interior walls, are sug­ gestive of a refined decor (Lorans 2012, 201). Overall, the archaeological evidence points to the fact that this was the residence of someone of status, and one that would certainly be appropriate for a bishop (albeit one with pretensions of living an eremitic life). Furthermore, given the dates of oc­ cupation this points to the possibility that this was Martin. Naturally we do not know how this building was used to facilitate an eremitic life and whether it was ‘staffed’ and provisioned. It also does not mean that the status and relative opulence of the site precludes a solitary religious life, even if it was rather comfortable. However, this does raise the question as to what extent Martin, and his contemporaries, were technically ‘hermits’ in the traditional sense. Indeed, it might be that some artistic or creative license was given to the eremitic component of early hagiographies, promoting early church leaders as having a level of spiritual authenticity and authority. Alternatively, it might be that the building served more as retreat. Here perhaps the responsibilities of being an important religious leader, and presumably one who was actively involved in the establishment and growth of an early Christian community necessitated a place of relative privacy and withdrawal in order to focus on more spiritual matters. Certainly, such an environment would have supported individual devotional and contemplative

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practices and study in relative peace, whilst still maintaining an impression of ecclesiastical status. The excavators at Marmoutier further conjectured that this ‘Martinian Model’ may have also applied to Martin’s earlier use of villas as hermitage retreats at Ligugé, and possibly at Chinon where a community was founded by Martin’s disciple, Maximus, in the 5th century (Lorans 2012, 195). At Ligugé the crypt under the parish church has traces of a Roman villa, probably part of a former bath complex which had been abandoned before Martin established himself there. Further afield, similar instances of ‘eccle­ siastical’ villas may have materialised in sub-Roman Britain of the 5th century, where abandoned villas in southern England were re-occupied by possible Martinian influenced monastic or eremitic communities (Dark 2001). The reuse of former Roman villas is not unusual and there is some archaeological evidence for reoccupation of abandoned villas, including as religious sites, in the late or immediate post-Roman periods, such as at Séviac, a villa 100 km north of Toulouse and Lullingstone, Kent, in England. Many, located just outside of towns or in the countryside, would have provided more than adequate accommodation for early religious communities and individuals, as well as a measure of isolation.

St Benedict and ‘Categories’ of Hermit Gaul in the 6th century was home to many indiscriminate wanderers, but increasingly many hermits were religious or aristocratic men seeking spiri­ tual purification (Bouchard 2015, 194). Monks were now a recognised and respected legal category, subject to their bishops as specified in the AD 451 Council of Chalcedon (ibid). The expansion of Christianity promoted the consequent foundation of new monasteries and hermitages that were created throughout western Europe. Within a generation of Martin, the island monastery of Lérins in southern Gaul was founded and lays claim to being one of the first and longest-lived eremitic settlements in the west (Jones 2000, 584). The island, on the French Riviera, was originally known to the Romans as Lerina, and was reportedly the site of an early hermitage of Caprasius in the late 4th century. Later his disciple, Honoratus, eventually formed a monastic community around him (Besse 1910). Today, nothing of the early hermitage or first monastery survives and the earliest surviving phases date to the 11th century. But the monastery is still active, and is thus representative of a religious community, and one with eremitic origins, that has survived for over 1,500 years. One of these early ‘religious aristocrats’ that emerged out of the postRoman Christian period was the son of a Roman noble, Benedict of Nursia (AD 480–c. 547), who was to become one of Christianity’s most influential figures. Benedict, later St Benedict, created what was to become the uni­ versal blueprint for monastic life in the medieval Christian West. Benedict’s early life took on a familiar pattern common to many early hermits.

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Figure 5.1 View of the cave of St. Benedetto St Benedict with statue of the saint made by Antonio Raggi (or Antonio Lombardo) (1624–1686). It was in this cave that the saint withdrew. 1657 Monastery of Saint Benedetto (Sacro Speco), Subiaco (Rome), Italy.

Originally educated in Rome, Benedict apparently became disillusioned by his life in the once great city, and at a relatively early age left home to become a recluse in a complex of caves at Subiaco, in the mountains of north Latium (Lazio) (Figure 5.1). Here it appears that he joined a preexisting group of hermits, possibly led by someone called Romanus, who mentored and schooled the young Benedict in the religious life. It was this experience at Subiaco that would later inform aspects of Benedict’s monastic Rule that specifically concerned the hermit life. Today the sprawling mon­ astic complex at Subiaco includes St Benedict’s Cave (the Sacro Speco), which was originally a small cavern a few metres deep and set high on the mountain perched above the Aniene River. The complex now comprises a maze of small cells and chapels decorated by later medieval frescoes, in­ cluding the oldest known representation of St Francis of Assisi. This may have been painted during Francis’s lifetime as he is depicted without halo and stigmata and may relate to his pilgrimage and retreat at Subiaco in 1223–1224. Like his desert ancestors, in time Benedict’s renown attracted followers many of whom settled in the area. Consequently, over the ensuing years, more formal monasteries were founded around Subiaco. Eventually, seeking greater solitude, Benedict would retire to Monte Cassino over 100 km away, where the same process would be repeated. Here a specific place for hermits may have been created as part of the initial monastic foundation (Leyser 1984, 12).

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Benedict’s Rule was probably set down when he was in his late 40s or early 50s and was therefore informed and shaped by a long experience of the religious life in its various forms. The Rule introduced the liturgical hours which were to frame the monastic day, as well as guidelines for communal living and the organisation of monasteries (White 2008). Benedict’s reg­ ulations however were probably based on an earlier set of guidelines, the Regula Magistri or ‘Rule of the Master’, but nonetheless emphasised a more positive view of human nature and fraternal love (Fortin 2006). Overall, the Benedictine Rule emphasised a structured model for the mon­ astic life. It also recommended that Cassian’s Conferences, an account of journeys that Cassian made to the monasteries and hermitages of Egypt, should be read by the community daily (Freeman in Williams 2011, 10). The Rule began with a classification of four categories of monks. Significantly, three of these were related to the eremitic life. The first category was ‘the coenobites’; those who lived in a monastery and served under a rule or an abbot (The Rule of St Benedict 1:1 in White 2008). The second type com­ prised ‘the anchorites’; that is ‘the hermits who, not by the new fervour of a conversion but by the long probation of life in a monastery, have learned to fight against the devil, having already been taught by the solace of many’ (The Rule of St Benedict 1:3 in White 2008). It is seemingly apparent from Benedict’s Rule that the status outlined by this second category would only apply when one has sufficient training, maturity or experience. Here the Rule stated that the anchorites ‘having been well prepared in the army of brothers for the solitary fight of the hermit’, would now be secure and ex­ perienced enough to ‘fight with their own hand’ against the vices of the flesh or of their own thoughts. In many ways this proscription is in stark contrast to the progression of Benedict himself, as well as other early Christian pioneers who embraced the solitary life first before adopting a communal life. This may further indicate that Benedict was personally aware of the pitfalls and perils of a solitary life experienced by one of limited spiritual maturity and may stem from his own experience at Subiaco. The third class of monk were the ‘sarabaites’ and draws comparison with Cassian’s former category. To Benedict, this group lived in their own homes, or dwelt to­ gether in or near cities. They acknowledged no monastic superior and obeyed no specific rule. They were ‘shut up by twos or threes, or, indeed, alone …’ to the ‘satisfaction of their desires’ (The Rule of St Benedict 1:6 in White 2008). The Rule continued to state that this category sanctified whatever they believed good and ‘what they do not wish, this they consider unlawful’. Here, in Benedict’s ‘anchorites’ and ‘sarabaites’ we have two distinct classes of hermit. The first, regulated and perhaps somewhat in­ stitutionalised; and the second perhaps representing a more alternative and radical vocation. The category of ‘sarabaites’ might also represent an older pre-Benedictine mode of eremitic life, and one that was thus free of reg­ ulatory constraint. Benedict’s fourth type of monk were the ‘gyrovagues’ who were condemned as wanderers ‘never stationary’ staying in monasteries

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for a few days at a time and given to their ‘own pleasures and the joys of the palate’ (The Rule of St Benedict 1:10 in White 2008). However, despite this condemnation it is important to note that Benedict still classed these as monks. Considering Benedict’s emphasis on stability and regularisation, the ‘gyrovagues’ may have represented another alternative asceticism, albeit one that at best involved a level of non-attachment to a particular place and instead embraced a life typified by wandering and relative liberality. Overall, however, we may also see this as a period of experimentation where the role of the hermit was constantly being articulated and negotiated within the context of monastic regularisation and an emerging institutionally driven church. Benedict himself never fully participated in the communal life and fundamentally he seems to have preferred the hermit life for himself, and ultimately his disciples (Leyser 1984, 12). The formalisation of Western monasticism under religious leaders such as Benedict allowed the Church to have some level of regulatory control over hermits and eremitic commu­ nities, who otherwise might have strayed from the path of orthodoxy. It also provided an impetus and rationale for the development and spread of the eremitic movement throughout Christian Europe as the Benedictine Rule itself was disseminated throughout the West.

Independent Hermits and Hermitages Despite the influence of Benedict and the increased institutionalisation of eremitic life in early medieval Europe, particularly at important monastic sites such as Subiaco, Lérins and later Cluny (among others across Europe), there remained a core movement of largely independent hermits. Perhaps eschewing more formal modes of religious life these individuals attempted to live in closer accordance with the original examples of the desert fathers that embraced a simpler and less restrictive lifestyle. In this context, for example, the 12th-century ‘Life of St Bernard of Tiron’ (c. 1046–1117) described the forests of northwestern France as a virtual ‘second Egypt’ (Jones 2000, 584). St Bernard himself, later founder of the Tironensian Order, would alternate the cloistered life with unauthorised retreats with a hermit community founded by Vital or Vitalis of Savigny in the forest of Craon, near Anjou in northern France (Harwood Cline 2009). Vitalis’s community was no doubt representative of many situated throughout early medieval France, some of which came to be associated with important later church figures. As these early hermitage communities developed and expanded many were refounded and rebuilt as abbeys and formal monastic life instituted, as at Savigny. Despite some documentary references to independent hermits in early medieval Europe the archaeological evidence for their hermitages is limited. A few notable examples can be found in areas where the regional geology has allowed for partial preservation of former cave hermitages. In south­ western France, significant remains of well-preserved cave complexes exist at St Cybard, Angoulême; St Gautier, Confolens and at Gurat, Charente

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(Gervers 1967, 10). These rock-cut sites are among a number in south­ western France that developed alongside the advance of monasticism. The cave complex at Gurat, Charente, is a particularly well-preserved example and here a series of caves extend along the cliff to the south of a larger central chamber (Figure 5.2). Others caves once lay to the north but were mostly destroyed when foundations were built for the village school. The caves at Gurat were formed naturally by water erosion and later provided suitable habitation for hermits throughout the medieval period. It is also possible that several important hermit caves might have been later replaced by the construction of the rock-hewn church (Gervers 1967). Some insight into the community was provided by stable isotope analyse of 18 burials excavated outside the church. This showed that many of the Gurat hermits were born elsewhere but had ultimately come to spend on average at least five years at Gurat before ending their days there (Meijer 2018). In Brittany, a region that by the 6th century was settled by Brythonic (British Celtic) migrants from southwestern Britain, one of the few hermi­ tages which is referenced in contemporary sources and subsequently brought to light by archaeological excavation is that dedicated to St Second in Besné, on the island of Brière (Guigon 2009, 179). According to the 6th-century historian Gregory of Tours the island was settled by two hermits, Secondel and Friard sometime after AD 526 where they lived in separate cells (ibid). Later archaeological excavations revealed 6th-century ceramics and a hearth

Figure 5.2 Interior of cave at Gurat, Charente, southwest France (Jack Ma 2009).

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as well as evidence for an earth and rubble structure (Noblet 1997). It is probable that many more such hermitages existed on the islands off the north coast of Brittany including the isles of Maudez, Lavret and Guennoc, off Landéda, where some evidence does exist for a small settlement in the early medieval period (Guigon 2009, 180–181). Elsewhere the dating of Breton dry-stone buildings is difficult. For example, a proposed early medieval ‘Irish-style’ hermitage at Lanrivoaré, where the remains of the foundations of a stone chapel and a vaulted dry-stone cell can be seen, has more recently been interpreted to be of the later medieval period (Cleac’h and Letissier 1976; Guigon 2009, 178). There is sufficient evidence, both historical and archaeological, to suggest that further west, in Britain and particularly Ireland, the introduction of eremitic Christianity was contemporaneous to developments on the continent. The hermit ideal gained prominence in the early medieval Irish church in presenting a particularly dynamic and active expression within Irish mon­ asticism that was particularly suited to the temperate and rugged coastlines of Atlantic Ireland. But Irish missionaries were also behind the establishment of hermitages and eremitic communities throughout early medieval Britain. Consequently, this has left a distinct archaeological heritage that still marks the coasts, islands and landscapes of Ireland and Britain today.

References Besse, J. (1910) ‘Abbey of Lérins’, The Catholic Encyclopedia. New York: Robert Appleton Company. Bouchard, C. B. (2015) Rewriting Saints and Ancestors: Memory and Forgetting in France, 500–1200. Pennsylvania: University Press. Cleac’h, G. and Letissier, M. (1976) ‘Un Ermitage de Style Irlandais en Bretagne: L’Ermitage de St Hervé en Lanrivoaré’, Archéologia, 97, 37–41. Dark, K. (2001) Britain and the End of the Roman Empire. Stroud: Tempus. Dietz, M. (2005) Wandering Monks, Virgins, and Pilgrims Ascetic Travel in the Mediterranean World, A.D. 300–800. Pennsylvania: Penn State University Press. Fortin, J. R. (2006) ‘Saint Augustine’s Letter 211 in the Rule of the Master and the Rule of Saint Benedict’, Journal of Early Christian Studies, 14 (2), 225–234. Freeman, L. (2011) ‘Introduction’, in R. Williams (ed.), Silence and Honey Cakes: The Wisdom of the Desert. Electronic Edition. Oxford: Lion Books, 7–14. Gervers, M. (1967) ‘The Cave Church at Gurat (Charente): Preliminary Report’, Gesta: 6, International Center of Medieval Art. Chicago: Chicago University Press, 10–20. Guigon, P. (2009) ‘The Archaeology of the So-Called “Celtic Church in Brittany”’, in N. Edwards (ed.), The Archaeology of the Early Medieval Celtic Churches: Proceedings of a Conference on the Archaeology of the Early Medieval Celtic Churches, September 2004. The Society for Medieval Archaeology Monographs 29, Leeds, London: Maney Publishing, 173–190. Hammond, M. (trans.) (2006) Meditations: Marcus Aurelius (Penguin Classics). London: Penguin.

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Harwood Cline, R. (2009) The Congregation of Tiron: Monastic Contributions to Trade and Communication in Twelfth-Century France and Britain. Leeds: Arc Humanities Press. Jones, E. A. (2000) ‘Hermits: Western Christian’, in W. M. Johnston (ed.), Encyclopedia of Monasticism. London and New York: Routledge, 583–585. Leyser, H. (1984) Hermits and the New Monasticism: A Study of Religious Communities in Western Europe 1000–1150. London: Macmillan. Lorans, É. (2012) ‘Aux Origines du Monastère de Marmoutier: le Témoignage de l’Archéologie’, in B. Judic (ed.), Annales de Bretagne et des Pays de l’Ouest. Les Abbayes Martiniennes, 119 (3), 177–203. Lorans, É., Marot, É., and Simon, G. (2015) ‘Marmoutier (Tours): de L’Hôtellerie Médiévale à la Maison du Grand Prieur’, Bulletin du Centre D’Études Médiévales D’Auxerre, 8. Meijer, J. (2018) Exploring the Origins and Mobility of the Medieval Monastic Inhabitants of a Cave Church in Gurat, France using Strontium Isotope Analysis. MA thesis, Canada: University of Waterloo. Noblet, L. (1997) ‘Besné, Vindunetta,’ in N. Molinès and P. Guigon (eds.), Les Églises des Îles de Bretagne. Institut Culturel de Bretagne: Association MancheAtlantique pour la Recherche Archéologique dans Îles, Rennes, 61–63. White, C. (2008) The Rule of Benedict. London: Penguin.

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Hermits and Hermitages in Early Medieval Ireland

Ireland and Britain: The Iron Age and the ‘New Christianity’ This chapter is principally concerned with the evidence from early medieval Ireland. However, and as we shall see in the next chapters, Irish missionaries were also behind the establishment of many hermitages and eremitic com­ munities in early medieval Britain. Consequently this chapter will first in­ troduce the broader context of early Christianity in Britain and Ireland before addressing the Irish material more directly. There has always been a sense of a certain heroic spirit behind the en­ deavours of the early Christian missionaries who journeyed and colonised the coastlines of the cold, temperate and dangerous world of early medieval Britain and Ireland. In some ways such spirit is perhaps evocative of the earlier desert hermits who adopted new spiritual norms in a stark landscape that was still haunted by ancient gods and one that was both menacing and alluring. Moreover, in Ireland and areas of northern Britain in the 5th century, Christianity encountered, perhaps for the first time, a society that had been largely free of the influence of Rome and the Classical world. A society that likewise was still evocative of the domain of the ancient pagan gods and goddesses. Although parts of Britain south of Hadrian’s Wall had been formally part of the Roman Empire, culturally Ireland and northern Britain remained largely Iron Age societies. The impact of Christianity, principally through the work of missionaries – the great saints of early Celtic culture – was to change these societies dramatically. The mid-5th century witnessed the emergence of what has been termed a ‘micro-Christendom’ where the inhabitants ‘had an almost embarrassing range of traditions’ from which to adopt so as to build their own (Brown 2003, 346). Consequently, across Ireland and the British Isles there may have been many divergent Christian communities at the time (Carver 2009, 333). From as early as the 1st century AD we find casual references to Iron Age ‘spiritual specialists’ living as hermits on islands in the Irish Sea region (Burn 1969, 350–351). One of these sources, the 1st-century Greek scholar Plutarch’s essay on the On the Obsolescence of Oracles (Moralia IV, 29), recounted a visit to one of these islands by someone called Demetrius. He consequently DOI: 10.4324/9780429024559-8

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reported that many of the coastal islands of Britain were ‘uninhabited and widely scattered, some of them being named after deities and demigods … (one) island had a few inhabitants, who were holy men’ (from Burn 1969, 2). Although this does not suggest a pre-existing link between prehistoric holy men and early Christian hermits, it may nonetheless suggest an ‘inheritance’ which might have included the use of islands by small groups of ‘religious’ that certainly foreshadowed later medieval eremitic communities on island sites such as Skellig Michael and Church Island, Co. Kerry, in western Ireland (Figure 6.1). In such cases, there appears to have been some desire for the early church to make connections with local prehistory, ‘in spite of the revolu­ tionary and revelatory character long credited to Christianity’ (Carver 2009, 333). This may have much to do with spiritual tradition and continuity as well the universal appeal of eremitic life, which might have easily lent itself to preChristian practice. Certainly, it could be argued that the elemental, mythical and atmospheric setting of many of these islands would be an appropriate context for new religious communities and individuals. They might also have offered a dynamic challenge to hermits in presenting desolate and myth-laden ‘spiritual battlegrounds’ resonate with the memory of pagan deities. In some cases, there were elements of continuity between Iron Age ‘pa­ ganism’ and early medieval Christianity, in what has been termed, in respect to eastern Scotland, ‘Late Iron Age Christianity’ (Maldonado 2011, 256). For example, at St Ninian’s Isle, Shetland, the church and cemetery was built over an existing Iron Age settlement. Here the existence of a ‘deviant’ burial and a furnished long cist burial alongside unfurnished graves and

Figure 6.1 The Island of Great Skellig/Skellig Michael, Kerry, Ireland (by author).

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Christian metalwork may indicate that Christianity did not appear to im­ pose specific burial rites, but ‘mapped onto existing social practices and belief structure’ (Maldonado 2011, 252). In cases like this, there is ‘prima facie’ incentive for making connections with local prehistory in Britain and Ireland ‘whether it be Roman, as in the south and east, or prehistoric as in the west and north (Carver 2009, 333–334). This process may have provided a ‘new’ Christianity with a stable and credible framework in which to op­ erate. This mapping of Christian sites onto Iron Age places may have also occurred at the important early Christian sites of Iona and Whithorn in western Scotland (Maldonado 2011, 253). In other regions of the British Isles similar connections may have been made. For example, Tacitus’s ‘Druidic’ Isle of Anglesey, North Wales, and the early monastic community on the Tarbat peninsula, eastern Scotland. Tarbat has been claimed to have represented a kind of ‘holy island in the Iron Age and perhaps before’ where a new religious landscape ‘spun its web over places already made holy in preChristian, prehistoric time: the wells, caves and dwellings of the wise’ (Carver 2009, 88). These pre-Christian holy sites were attractive for early hermits both for their transcendent quality and because some would have resonated as threatening spaces of the unknown and the abode of pagan forces. Like the desert fathers and mothers before them, many hermits would have also seen such sites as potential spiritual battlegrounds; testing grounds of faith and the affirmative power of the new religion. Elsewhere in Britain there is significant evidence for prehistoric commu­ nities at Glastonbury, Somerset, and the Somerset Levels, which by the 6th century was at the core of an early Christian sacred topography, originally outlined by Irish missionary activity. This included several possible Christian hermitage sites, many of which were located on small marsh is­ lands. According to the 12th-century historian William of Malmesbury, there was a chapel at a remote spot in Meare, Somerset, which was believed to be the site of the hermitage of Benignus, an alleged follower of St Patrick. At the centre of this landscape was Glastonbury Tor, which must have had some symbolic importance in the pre-Christian landscape. Excavations on the Tor itself found evidence for timber buildings on platforms cut into the rock. West of the Tor, at Beckery, a monastery associated with St Bridget, may have also begun its life as a hermitage. At Beacon Hill, Lundy Island in the Bristol Channel, an early Christian site overly an Iron Age settlement (Thomas 1994). Many of these early British hermitages were founded, or likewise had associations with Irish missionaries. Despite this, in Ireland itself the evidence for continuity between the Iron Age and Christian periods is more limited and there currently exists no direct evidence to suggest that Irish monasteries were established on pre-existing pagan sites (O’Sullivan, McCormick, Kerr and Harney 2014, 145). However, this may have as much to do with the insubstantiality of the archaeological evidence, particularly re­ garding dating, as well as the evolution of such sites over time. Ireland did,

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however, have an established Christian eremitic tradition, which is still re­ flected in its rich archaeological record.

Ireland The hermit ideal gained prominence in the early medieval Irish church in presenting a particular dynamic and active expression within Irish mon­ asticism that was inherently suited to the temperate and rugged coastlines of Atlantic Ireland. Hermits were an integral characteristic of early Irish Christianity and again the term can come to encompass a range of different eremitic lifestyles that included solitary renunciants as well as eremitic communities. In the 8th century a particular ‘class’ of Irish eremitic monk and hermit emerged in the form of the Cé li Dé or Culdees (Companions or Clients of God), originally reserved for an elite class of eremitic monks and hermits who embraced a strictly ascetic life (Gilchrist 2020, 51). The ar­ chaeological preservation of many early hermitages in Ireland is notable, particularly for the early medieval period prior to c. AD 1100. After this time the ecclesiastical landscape of Ireland was much changed by the in­ troduction of church reforms and the foundation of new monastic orders, as well as the earlier impact of Viking raids throughout the 9th century. However, before we examine the diverse archaeological evidence, we need first to consider the broader context of Irish Christianity and the unique character of early Irish eremitism. Between the 5th and 7th centuries, a form of monasticism that was largely inspired by the Egyptian eremitical tradition began to take root in Ireland. Largely unaffected by Roman influence, Irish Christianity found itself confronting an essentially Iron Age society and culture which would ulti­ mately bestow a particular temperament and character on eremitic practice. This character has been traditionally defined (although today admittedly less fashionably) as Celtic Christianity. There has been much recent debate challenging the ideas of a Celtic Christianity that was distinct from Roman Christianity (Corning 2006, Koch 2006, Guigon 2009). Some have identified instead what they term a ‘Celtic Church’ (ie, Edwards 2009) and others have claimed the overall concept as ‘unhelpful, if not positively harmful’ (Davies 1992, 12). Part of the issue lies in the so-called modern ‘Cult of Celtic Christianity’ and the belief that there was once an institutionalised Celtic Church that recognised the authority of a single representative or synod (Yorke 2006, 115). However, in terms of the study of early medieval hermits, there is divergence. ‘Celtic’ monasticism had a ‘distinctly eremitic character’ (Gilchrist 2020, 50) and this was fundamental to a ‘Celtic spirituality’ (McAvoy 2010, 197). This distinctiveness would ultimately provide a fertile ground for the flourishing of a desert monasticism of the North Atlantic, particular in the period c. AD 500–1000, and lead to the presence of a varied and extensive assemblage of archaeological remains. Whatever the argu­ ments surrounding the distinctiveness, or otherwise of an Irish ‘Celtic’

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church, there are characteristics to early Irish hermitages which include certain monument types, emphasis on external ritual space as well as evi­ dence for penitential practice. In terms of the form and fabric of Irish hermitages there is much variation, with an apparent emphasis on simple dwellings constructed in isolated and rugged environments, such as small islands, promontories and precipitous coastal sites. Ideologically, early medieval Irish Christianity placed some emphasis on unique systems of penitential practice and gave prominence to the concept of peregrinatio or ‘going into exile for Christ’ (Corning 2006). Both expressions were influ­ ential in the development of eremitism in Ireland, and those parts of Britain within the sphere of Irish Christianity. The character and temperament of early Irish Christianity was not necessarily detrimental to the Roman Christian eremitical model. Areas of England that were influenced by Irish missionaries, such as northern and western Britain, were invigorated with a distinctiveness and authenticity arguably derived more from the desert fa­ thers than the conventionality of Roman orthodoxy. Elsewhere in AngloSaxon England, which was largely under the authority of the Roman Church, surviving documentary sources indicate there was less emphasis on the eremitic life than in the Irish and British tradition (Yorke 2006, 182). Irish eremitism placed special emphasis on individual prayer and personal salvation (Mytum 1992, 46). Consequently, penitential practices, pilgrimage and seclusion were dynamic activities that framed the lives and experiences of many hermits and archaeological evidence survives for such practices. These activities can also be explained and contextualised with reference to the so-called ‘three martyrdoms’ of the 7th century (Cahill 1995). These are termed white, green and red martyrdoms, which describe, respectively, withdrawal from the secular world, penance and death (Bitel 1990, 10–11). The first two would naturally lend themselves to the life, practices and as­ pirations of a hermit. The third martyrdom could also perhaps be viewed in the light of inherent dangers of missionary work and peregrinatio. The Irish Saint Columba is reported to have founded ‘penitential houses’ including one on the Hebridean island of Tiree and this term may in fact perhaps be an epithet for hermitages as a particular class of monastic establishment. The landscape and environment of Ireland and western Britain were also well suited to penance and asceticism. Many early hermitages were founded on coasts or islands embattled by a bitter cold sea and in stark contrast to the deserts of the East and even the more temperate climes of France and Italy. Here instead, on the western fringes was the wilderness and isolation of oceans, fens and forests. (Jones 2000, 584). Indeed, the location of many early Irish hermitages may be marked by the place name ‘dysert’ from the Gaelic díseart which means deserted place or hermitage and may have further as­ sociations with the ‘desert’ of early Christian Egypt. Examples include Dysert O’Dea in Co. Clare the site of an 8th-century monastery, and Disertowen, Co. Derry. Variations of this placename can also be found in Scotland such as the medieval remains at Cladh an Dìsirt, Iona. Here according to Adomnán,

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Columba founded a monastery or ‘penitential house’ soon after his coming to Iona incAD 563 (Beveridge 1903).

St Colman and Irish Cave Hermitages The organisation of Irish hermitages was comparative to that on the con­ tinent and in the Egyptian deserts in that some hermits lived as solitaries and others as part of a community. Many Irish hermitages were no doubt largely independent, but many were affiliated to greater monasteries. The institu­ tional structure of the Irish church was unique and based on a monastic feudalism, which carried with it a spiritual authority. In this context, abbots and abbesses wielded considerable jurisdiction over bishops and many Irish hermits were often drawn from the upper echelons of society and were frequently members of royal families (Charles-Edwards 2000). Inevitably some early monastics and hermits were involved in dynastic issues and worldly matters which in many cases did little to tarnish their spiritual re­ putations. Hermits often spent their lives moving between the various roles; sometimes abbot, other times hermit, dependent, one assumes, on require­ ment and personal motivations. The hermit/abbot St Colman Mac Duagh (c. AD 560–632) was in many ways a model example of the early Irish hermit. He had royal connections, and thus a royal support network. He was linked to the foundation of several monastic establishments and lived, at least on two separate occasions, as a religious recluse. The nature of Colman’s life, inter­ weaving a solitary life with the busier world of monastic engagement again raises the question as to what extent the hermit life was viewed as a permanent way of being, or as offering a temporary respite from the world (as we have seen with Martin). In this latter context, it might have been used for periods of rest, renewal as well as to provide space and time for prolonged periods of solitary contemplation. We are rather fortunate in that the location and possible remains of one of Colman’s hermitages still survives (Figure 6.2). This was a place that he is said to have resided before AD 620 and prior to his appointment as abbotbishop (Fahy 1911, 368–370). The hermitage is situated in an isolated forest glade at the foot of Slievecarran (Eagle’s Rock) in the Burren National Park in County Clare in the west of Ireland. The name Burren or ‘Boíreann’ means a rocky place and the landscape consists of bedrock incorporating an expansive cracked pavement of glacial-era limestone, with cliffs and caves, fossils and rock formations. Despite the isolated setting of the site, Colman’s hermitage was within 10 miles of several important early medieval secular and religious places, including the possible royal centre and port at Kinvara and the monastic settlement of Kilmacduagh, conceivably founded by Colman himself in the 7th century. Colman’s site conforms to a particular pattern of early Irish hermitages in that it comprised two principal components: a cave and a chapel/oratory. This was an arrangement that can also be found on other

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Figure 6.2 Site of Colman’s hermitage and later oratory, the Burren, County Clare, Ireland (by author).

Irish-inspired sites in western Scotland and the west coast of Wales. Today the site has the remains of an oratory, dating to around the 10th century (although possibly replacing an earlier version) and a small spring and ‘holy’ well enclosed by a circular structure. Situated about 10 metres above this on a steep elevation, and overlooking the oratory, is the site of Colman’s cave, a natural grotto about 5 metres long by around 2 metres wide at its greatest width (Figure 6.3). More broadly speaking, it is entirely possible that her­ mitage caves, like Colman’s, were used for accommodation. But there were further associations perhaps in terms of penitential practice, or symbolically, as previously argued, in being reminiscent of the tomb of Christ, or a place resonant with earlier pagan forces. In this light, caves may have functioned as places for solitary contemplative practice or prayer and linked into both the Christian desert tradition whilst also ultimately drawing on the rich narrative tradition of Christ’s death and Resurrection. Some caution is required when imposing contemporary perceptions on our interpretation of these cave sites, and how they might have been used in the past. Caves might appear as dark places, pregnant with potent symbo­ lism and myth. Equally caves also offered the practical benefits of providing shelter and permanence. The natural environment surrounding many her­ mitage sites; often rugged and elemental, is a factor that cannot be ignored, and one that may have often been largely overlooked in traditional studies on the subject. Clearly, pastoral, wild and uninhabited places would have

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Figure 6.3 Colman’s Cave, the Burren (by author).

offered a practical basis for withdrawal. They would have been in areas that had restricted access, to varying extents, often off the beaten trail and even perhaps in areas that had prior supernatural associations. But the natural aesthetic of these places, often dramatic, spacious and elemental, might have also offered inspiration, a feeling of being closer to the dynamic presence of God as manifested in the sights and sounds of the natural environment. Colman’s hermitage was in a barren yet evocative landscape, isolated at the foot of a mountain in a tree-lined grove with a natural spring. Even today, it is not difficult to imagine that this setting must have had no small effect on the con­ templative life of the hermit. The choice of site may have been also governed by the presence of the spring. As well as a source of water, in early medieval Ireland, springs were ‘sacred sites’ that attracted settlement but also marked the ‘points where the natural world met the otherworld’ (Bitel 1990, 45). More widely, the identification of caves as former hermit sites is difficult. Some cave sites have an association with early Irish saints albeit with no direct historical evidence. Where caves have evidence for some occupation there is often little archaeological evidence for them being used specifically as hermitages. This is despite some being named after saints, including Bracken’s Cave (named after St Bracken) on Rathlin Island, Co. Antrim and St Gregory’s Cave on the coast of Inis Mór in Galway Bay. By its very nature, the eremitical life is ephemeral and might not leave physical evidence or evidence that can differentiated from secular use. Caves might have had different functions over time, particularly in the post-Reformation period

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when hermits were in decline and caves might have been reused as storage or temporary shelters. On Rathlin Island, the majority of the 30 caves on the island were used for storing fishing equipment and as short-term shelters for fisherman. Other caves might have been named after one singular event, which might not necessarily relate to an earlier function, such as ‘The Cave of Tobacco’ on Inis Mór which was named after it was used to conceal a consignment of tobacco that had washed ashore. Another on the island, Mikey’s Cave, was known locally as a place where sand and seaweed were gathered (Dowd 2015, 18). In other cases, the association of caves with early saints and hermits may have served to physically ‘anchor memories as well as historical and my­ thical events’ (Dowd 2015, 18). In this light, caves may have been compo­ nents of a wider sacred and symbolic landscape, which might not necessarily have had its roots in historical reality. This interweaving of tradition, legend and historical association would have contributed to the construction of early Christian landscapes. Here, localised religious institutions through their patronal saints and holy communities invested these hinterlands with a dynamic spiritual significance. Caves and sites linked with saints and hermits would have formed an important physical focal point within these sacred landscapes. Thus, a spiritual network was created, spinning the lives and deeds of saints and hermits, real or otherwise, into a rich hagiographic ta­ pestry. In this light, the role of hermits and saints was integral to the creation of a Christian landscape in early medieval Ireland and the wider promotion of the power and authority of monasteries and the secular elites that they were associated with.

Eremitic Communities in Early Medieval Ireland Many early Irish eremitic communities were located on coastlines, islands or promontories. However, the natural environment of Ireland also included many inland waterways and lochs (lakes). These sites were ideal for the formation of crannogs, which were typically a partially or entirely artificial island, usually built in the lakes and estuarine waters. Many have been shown to be in existence since the Bronze Age and some were used as highstatus secular sites during the medieval period. However, it has also been noted that some early medieval crannogs were situated close to monasteries such as Lough Kinale, Co. Longford and Tully Lough, Co. Roscommon. Consequently, it is possible that subsequent discoveries of early medieval ecclesiastical metalwork on these crannogs such as crosses, hand bells and book shrines suggest their use as safe storage places for relics, or perhaps as island hermitages (O’Sullivan, McCormick, Kerr and Harney 2014, 82). Certainly, the use of crannogs would conform to what we know about hermitages requiring some level of isolation but yet linked in some way to local religious houses, and it is possible that many crannogs identified as secular sites may have performed some sort of eremitic role, at least at some

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period. Elsewhere the evidence is considerable for the remains of eremitic communities in early medieval Ireland and there is a relatively strong con­ centration in southwestern Ireland. This is especially noticeable in coastal areas and islands and include the important remains at Skellig Michael, Killabuonia, Kildreenagh, Illaunloughan and Church Island (all Co. Kerry). There is limited contemporary historical references for many of these early sites and consequently we must often rely on the archaeology. Most of the early religious sites were built in stone and there is reasonable survival of standing remains. Many are still located within rural or isolated areas and have been subject to excavation or archaeological survey. The remains often include structural evidence for former cells, oratories or chapels, and cemeteries within a sub-circular enclosure or enclosures. Excavation at some sites has also revealed earlier timber phases, for example at Illaunloughan and Church Island, where organic buildings were built during the earliest phase of the settlement before being replaced by circular dry-stone cells (O’Sullivan, McCormick, Kerr and Harney 2014, 138). At Iniscealtra Island, or Holy Island, situated in the southwest of Lough Derg, excavations revealed a small sub-circular timber structure with a wicker fence (Manning and Hurl 1989/90). The identification of some early Irish sites as specifically ‘eremitic’ can be problematic and it can also be difficult to understand their chronology due to the paucity of material that can be reliably dated. A small number have been excavated and this has often led to a better identification of features, as well as insights into relative phases of occupation. However, few definite conclusions can be drawn regarding the religious status of many of these sites and differentiating an eremitic site from a small monastery or familial secular monastery is difficult. However, one answer way may lie in the di­ vision of space. In some early small monasteries, such as Killabuonia and Church Island, clear subdivisions between domestic and liturgical areas do not appear to have been made. Such undifferentiated spaces have led to the suggestion that these sites represented a ‘truly ascetic community fully devoted to contemplation and prayer’ (Mytum 1992, 84). When there were clear subdivisions then this would suggest perhaps that non-religious activities were also carried on the site. This might include, for example, activities like crafting, industry and food preparation. The identification of subdivisions has been claimed to be an ‘archaeological method’ that can be used to differentiate hermitages from small familial monasteries (ibid). Many such sites can also be classed as eremitic monasteries and hermitages based largely on the size and number of buildings, possibly in conjunction with their geographic location and relative isolation. Here, some of the best examples are Skellig Michael, Killabuonia, Kildreenagh, Illaunloughan and Church Island (Valentia), as well as the fragmentary collection of small beehive huts at Killelan West on Doulus Head, Co. Kerry. The island and coastal locations of southwestern Ireland were ideal set­ tings for hermitages. The region of promontories, islands and inhospitable

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coastlines allowed for the foundation of hermitages in relative isolation. The rocky coasts battered by the cold Atlantic would have also offered a fitting environment for an ascetic and penitential lifestyle. The limestone and sandstone geology of western and southwestern Ireland also provided a ready source of extractable and suitable building materials. In fact, although many of the small monasteries and hermitages on the rocky peninsulas of southwest Ireland were situated in relatively isolated places, nonetheless they were components of a network of religious sites within a relatively small geographical area. A comprehensive campaign of archaeological surveying was conducted on the coastal districts lying around the Dingle and Iveragh peninsulas between 1937 and 1954 and many early sites were subsequently identified (Henry 1957). A concentration can be found off the coast of Co. Kerry, with nine found on islands off the Iveragh and Dingle peninsula (Horn, White Marshall, Rourke, O’Leary and Snodgrass 1990, 102). Some sites such as Church Island and particularly Skellig Michael are reasonably well-preserved. Others, such as the collection of beehive huts at Doulus Head have been dismantled and their stones used for dry stone walling, and now only partial remains and traces survive. Many other such sites are no doubt lost as a result of neglect. The remarkable preservation of remains on Skellig Michael are largely due to its location, but it has also been the subject of ongoing conservation work since 1978 and was inscribed on the UNESCO World Heritage List in 1996 (Bourke, Hayden, Lynch and O’Sullivan 2011). There are two separate components to the monastic settlement on Skellig Michael. One is a well-preserved monastery and the other a hermitage con­ structed on ledges high on the South Peak at the centre of the island. The island of Skellig Michael comprises around 44 hectares of rock rising sharply and dramatically out of the Atlantic some 10 km from the west coast of Ireland. The first documented presence of the monastery dates to the 8th century, but it could be at least a century earlier. It therefore conforms to a pattern of eremitic sites that were founded on islands and coasts in Ireland in the early Christian period. The monastery itself is in an enclosure on a terraced shelf 180 metres (600 ft) above sea level. It consists of seven beehives cells (clocháns), two oratories (one which is just outside the main complex), a small cemetery, crosses, cross-slabs, remains of a ‘latrine’, water cistern, leachta (a square or rectangular stone structure that may have been used as a mem­ orial or shrine) and a later chapel (Figure 6.4). The cells and oratories are all dry-built corbel construction, and the later chapel is of mortared stone (Figure 6.5). There is also some evidence for several terraces once used for cultivation. Parts of the complex are protected by a small drystone wall. It is estimated that the community numbered between 6 and 12 individuals at any one time. Some of the features of the cells include stone pegs, cupboards or niches and internal corbels that may suggest former lofts. There is also a raised area in one cell, which may have been used for sleeping. The largest cell which measures 4.6 × 3.8 metres and 5 metres high may have been a communal cell (Bourke et al. 2011, 10). This cell also had two windows.

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Figure 6.4 The monastery of Skellig Michael looking towards Little Skellig and the Irish coast (by author).

Figure 6.5 Beehive huts at Skellig Michael (by author).

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In terms of its size and isolation, the monastery at Skellig may be classified as eremitic in character, although there is clear division between liturgical and domestic spaces. Standing within the monastic complex at Skellig today one can still get a clear sense of its dramatic setting. Perched on a rocky outcrop, and subject to the elemental forces; the roiling seas and sharp salty Atlantic wind, the experience is both evocative but also one of relative isolation and self-diminution. Here perhaps, to the medieval mind, was a dynamic expression of the awesome majesty of God. The setting of the community at Skellig was therefore important in that it provoked forms of religious experience that was in relationship to landscape and environment. This was also an experience that was no doubt also reflected in other eremitic sites in coastal Ireland, as well as in Britain. Religious life at Skellig was also amplified by the presence of a separate and more isolated retreat at some distance away from the main monastic community that could only have served an individual hermitage (Figure 6.6). This hermitage was located on the crest of the island’s South Peak and was situated over 200 metres above the sea. It was approached by a difficult and potentially hazardous climb, which followed rock steps and occasional handholds. Halfway up the climb is a small enclosure that may have been a contemplation or prayer station (Bourke et al. 2011, 14). The hermitage itself is comprised of a small terrace with a cell or

Figure 6.6 South Peak, Skellig Michael. The enclosure of the hermitage can be seen near the top of the peak (by author).

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oratory and a paved yard enclosed by a dry-stone wall. A leachta was con­ structed at one end of the paved enclosure and this may have served as an outside altar or a shrine. The leachta appears to have been too small for a burial memorial (Horn et al. 1990, 32). However, it may have contained relics that were perhaps translated here sometime after the original burial. The leachta had a prominent position in the hermitage yard and may have been a specific focus for contemplative practice. The use of outdoor shrines, such as leachtas, may again support the importance of religious practices that were conducted outside. In the case of the Skellig hermitage, the precarious nature of its location, exposed high up on the peak, windswept and enveloped by the spacious skies overlooking the blank desert-like enormity of the sea might have induced a form of sensuous response in the hermit, or at least added a more dynamic and atmospheric quality to any related practices. Its pre­ cipitousness may have also naturally instilled a certain amount of fear and fragility in the hermit. In its overall form, it is somewhat reminiscent of the eastern stylite and Katskhi pillars, discussed previously. The presence of this secondary religious space at Skellig, not only suggests the importance of a solitary retreat, but its specific location arguably sug­ gests the desire for a further ascetic or penitential space perhaps connected with the extremity and isolation of location. After all, and not withstanding contemporary standards, life at Skellig itself was presumably harsh and ascetic enough. The interior of the main hermitage building on South Peak measures 2.3 metres long and 2 metres wide. The hermitage, though similar in form and fabric to the monastery, had a different function. It may have been used for solitary retreat and penitential practices or even, if the leachta was a shrine or reliquary, for pilgrimage, especially when we consider the nature of the long and hazardous journey up to it. The hermitage, perched dramatically on a terrace high up on South Peak would have been also visible from the lower monastery itself and this visual association may have been of some significance (a factor that we will consider later). The concept of a satellite hermitage linked to a monastic site is evidenced elsewhere, for example at Inishmurray, Co. Sligo. Here, the monastery on the Island at Inishmurray represents one of the best preserved early monastic settlements with associated ritual and pilgrim landscape. The monastery was surrounded by a terrain that include a processional ring of altars, prayers stations and other ritual monuments. The main monastic complex comprised two chapels, beehive huts and a cemetery within a substantial drystone ‘cashel’ or enclosure wall (Ó Carragáin 2009, 207). Within this circuit, about a mile west of the main complex and situated on high cliffs, was the hermitage of Trahanareear. This site comprised a small enclosure encompassing a drystone cell and a leachta underneath which there was evidence for a paved area sur­ rounding a substantial posthole, which may have been for a possible wooden table altar (Ó Carragáin 2009, 209). The presence of leachta here possibly functioning as outside prayer stations or altars, may have provided a context for rituals associated with contemplative practice and pilgrimage. In this light

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other hermitages may have also been components of a wider ritual landscape comprising shrines, stations, monasteries and the hermitages themselves. The islands of Inishmurray and Skellig Michael were visible from the Irish coastline and would have provided a dramatic symbol of Christian power in the wider Irish coastal landscape. In the case of Skellig Michael, it may have shared some inter-visibility with some of the other monasteries and hermi­ tages on the Iveragh peninsula, including the monasteries at Killabuonia and Bray Head, Co. Kerry, from which Skellig is clearly visible. At Bray Head, the remains of five beehive cells can be found on the southern slope looking towards Skellig. A similar situation can be found at Killabuonia, which lays claim to having been founded either by St Buonia, sister of St Patrick or by St Brendan or his disciple Beoanus (Henry 1957, 101). The whole site had a clear and unobstructed view across the bay to the distant island of Skellig (Figure 6.7). The site of Killabuonia preserves some re­ mains and has also been subject to excavation (Henry 1957). The complex has the remains of several beehive cells including a double cell, a rectangular building as well as several tombs (Figure 6.8). There is also a tomb/shrine about 1.5 metres in length and comprised of two large rectangular slabs forming a sort of triangular structure. This structure compares to the larger gable shrines found on Church Island, Bray and Illaunloughan. These shrines may have held relics, or the remains of founders, which were ap­ parently viewed as the most precious (Bitel 1990, 67). The shrines were of

Figure 6.7 Killabuonia, County Kerry. Note remains of beehive huts and tomb/ shrine in foreground. Skellig Michael can be seen in the distance (by author).

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Figure 6.8 Remains of beehive hut at Killabuonia (by author).

ritual significance and were often linked to important early saints and as­ cetics. Irish hagiographers claimed that the early Irish saints left their bodies to their monastic heirs. (ibid), and therefore such monuments would natu­ rally provide an important ritual and contemplative focus, as well a sense of religious lineage or legitimacy. At Killabuonia the base of a carved stone pillar is adjacent to the shrine/tomb, as well as the remains of a cross. The whole arrangement occupies a central place in what might have been a courtyard and may well have been a specific area dedicated for prayer, ritual or con­ templation. This may conform to what is termed a platea, a site where care­ fully controlled ceremonial and memorial practice was conducted, and noted at other Irish sites (Bitel 1990, 76). The buildings and features are arranged along a series of terraces on the slope of hill, and there is some evidence for enclosure walls. Other features include the remains of a possible stone cross and a water stoop. A number of other unidentifiable dry-stone structures are visible in the wider area and may suggest that the community was more ex­ tensive perhaps than it appears today. The ecclesiastical site at Illaunloughan, as at Killabuonia, also had a small complex of buildings near a gable shrine which appears to have been a main focus for the small eremitic community. The small religious site on the island may have been an interim pilgrimage site for travellers journeying on to Skellig and in this context the hermits may have been wardens for the shrine. The primary phase of buildings consisted of a small church or oratory, a shrine and three round monastic cells, two of which were constructed of earth sod and stone. The community probably numbered no more than five or six monks at any one time (White Marshall and Walsh 2005). Religious sites such as Killabuonia and Illaunloughan served as small eremitic communities with small numbers of hermits living a simple and largely isolated life apart from

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the wider society around them. At these sites the community was relatively compact with the cells arranged in groups. However, at other eremitic sites this was not always the case. At Killelan West on the Doulus Head a small group of early medieval beehive huts are representative of an early eremitic community. The site comprises four beehive cells, including one that has two rooms, or possibly three, connected by an internal passage (Henry 1957, 58). The single huts are about 6 metres in diameter internally. Significantly there was some distance between the individual huts ranging from 30 to 40 metres apart. This would have presumably afforded each cell a reasonable level of independent isolation. It is possible that the larger double or triple celled building served as some sort of communal structure. As previously noted, one of the key motivations behind the development of the early monastic tradition in Ireland was the idea of peregrinatio; a form of religious renunciation that ostensibly provided the context for long-distance pilgrimage and missionary work. It was a form of religious aspiration and penitential practice that was behind the foundation of many monastic sites around Ireland. But its scope and ambition were much broader than this. Consequently, it was an ideal that would inevitably provide impetus for the establishment of religious hermitages and monasteries across the Irish Sea in northwest Britain.

References Beveridge, E. (1903) Coll and Tiree: Their Prehistoric Forts and Ecclesiastical Antiquities with notices of Ancient Remains in the Treshnish Isles. Edinburgh: T. and A. Constable. Bitel, L. M. (1990) Isle of the Saints: Monastic Settlement and Christian Community in Early Ireland. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press. Bourke, E. Hayden, A., Lynch, A., and O’Sullivan, M. (2011) Skellig Michael, Co. Kerry: The Monastery and South Peak: Archaeological Stratigraphic Report: Excavations 1986–2010. Dublin: Department of Culture, Heritage and the Gaeltacht. Brown, P. (2003) The Rise of Western Christendom: Triumph and Diversity AD 200–1000. Oxford: Blackwell Publishers. Burn, A. R. (1969) ‘Holy Men on Islands in pre-Christian Britain’, Glasgow Archaeological Journal, 1, 2–6. Cahill, T. (1995) How the Irish Saved Civilization: The Untold Story of Ireland’s Heroic Role from the Fall of Rome to the Rise of Medieval Europe. London: Hodder and Stoughton. Carver, M. (2009) ‘Early Scottish Monasteries and Prehistory: A Preliminary Dialogue’, The Scottish Historical Review, 88 (2), 332–351. Charles-Edwards, T. M. (2000) Early Christian Ireland. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Corning, C. (2006) The Celtic and Roman Traditions: Conflict and Consensus in the Early Medieval Church. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Davies, W. (1992) ‘The Myth of the Celtic Church’, in N. Edwards and A. Lane (eds.), The Early Church in Wales and the West: Recent Work in Early Christian Archaeology, History and Place-Names. Oxford: Oxbow, 12–21.

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Dowd, M. (2015) The Archaeology of Caves in Ireland. Oxford: Oxbow. Edwards, N. (ed.) (2009) The Archaeology of the Early Medieval Celtic Churches. Proceedings of a Conference on the Archaeology of the Early Medieval Celtic Churches, September 2004. The Society for Medieval Archaeology Monographs, 29. The Society for Church Archaeology Monographs, 1. Leeds: Maney. Fahy, M. (1911) ‘St. Colman’s Oratory, in Burren, County Clare’, The Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland, 1(4), 368–370. Gilchrist, R. (2020) Sacred Heritage: Monastic Archaeology, Identities, Beliefs. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Guigon, P. (2009) ‘The Archaeology of the So-Called “Celtic church” in Brittany’, in N. Edwards (ed.), The Archaeology of the Early Medieval Celtic Churches: Proceedings of a Conference on the Archaeology of the Early Medieval Celtic Churches, September 2004. The Society for Medieval Archaeology Monographs, 29. Leeds, London: Maney Publishing, 173–190. Henry, F. (1957) ‘Early Monasteries, Beehive Huts, and Dry-Stone Houses in the Neighbourhood of Caherciveen and Waterville (Co. Kerry)’, Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy: Archaeology, Culture, History, Literature, 58, 45–166. Horn, W., White Marshall, J., Rourke, G. D., O’Leary, P. and Snodgrass, L. (1990) The Forgotten Hermitage of Skellig Michael. California Studies in the History of Art Discovery Series II. Berkeley: University of California Press. Jones, E. A. (2000) ‘Hermits: Western Christian’, in W. M. Johnston (ed.), Encyclopedia of Monasticism. London and New York: Routledge, 583–585. Koch, J. T. (2006) Celtic Culture: A Historical Encyclopedia. Oxford: ABC-Clio. Maldonado, A. D. (2011) Christianity and Burial in Late Iron Age Scotland, AD 400–650. PhD thesis, University of Glasgow. Manning, C. and Hurl, D. (eds.) (1989/90) ‘Inishcaltra, Excavations Bulletin 1980–84: Summary Account of Archaeological Excavations in Ireland’, Journal of Irish Archaeology, 5, 65–80. McAvoy, L. H. (2010) ‘Anchorites and Medieval Wales’, in L. H. McAvoy (ed.), Anchoritic Traditions of Medieval Europe. Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 195–216. Mytum, H. (1992) The Origins of Early Christian Ireland. New York and London: Routledge. Ó Carragáin, T. (2009) ‘The Saint and the Sacred Centre: The Early Medieval Pilgrimage Landscape of Inishmurray’, in N. Edwards (ed.), The Archaeology of the Early Medieval Celtic Churches: Proceedings of a Conference on the Archaeology of the Early Medieval Celtic Churches, September 2004. The Society for Medieval Archaeology Monographs, 29. Leeds, London: Maney Publishing, 207–226. O’Sullivan, A., McCormick, F., Kerr T. and Harney, L. (2014) Early Medieval Ireland, AD 400–1100 The Evidence from Archaeological Excavations. Dublin: Royal Irish Academy. Thomas, A. C. (1994) And Shall These Mute Stones Speak? Post-Roman Inscriptions in Western Britain. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. White Marshall, J. And Walsh, C. (2005) Illaunloughan Island: An Early Medieval Monastery in County Kerry. Wordwell: Bray, Co. Wicklow. Yorke, B. (2006) The Conversion of Britain: Religion, Society and Politics 600–800. Harlow: Pearson Longman.

7

The Hermits and Hermitages of Early Medieval Britain

The early Christian archaeology of Ireland is to an extent mirrored in other Atlantic regions of Britain that were subject to the influence of Irish mis­ sionary activity. Likewise, as we will later see from the Life of one of Britain’s most famous hermits, St Cuthbert, the same heroic spirit prevailed. Taking its lineage from the arid deserts of Egypt to the windswept Atlantic coasts of Ireland, the eremitic experience in early medieval Britain was one that was at times both bellicose and noble involving conflict with perceived malignant forces that were no doubt both external as well as internal. There is con­ temporary documentary evidence for Irish saints founding monasteries and hermitages across the British Isles. This included the islands and Western coastlines of Scotland and Wales – a relatively short distance across the Irish Sea – but also northeastern Britain and the west country of England. Island and promontories had a particular significance for some of these early mis­ sionaries. As we have previously seen such locations not only offered relative isolation and independence but were often pregnant with myth and the po­ tency of former pagan power. In this light, they could be seen as potential arenas of spiritual conflict and as testing places for the hermit’s moral dis­ cipline, resilience and spiritual competence. Moreover, the seas and coast themselves offered up a wild and vast desert-like spaciousness, which provided a continuous and dynamic backdrop to island or coastal living and, perhaps to the hermits, a perpetual reminder of the awesomeness of God’s presence.

Peregrinations and Eremitism In Britain, Irish eremitic sites could be found as far as Norfolk on the east coast of England where in c. 630 the Irishman Fursey founded a community possibly within the walls of the old coastal Roman fort at Burgh Castle. Many of these early religious sites would later become important Anglo-Saxon monasteries and many, such as Lindisfarne (Northumberland), Glastonbury and Malmesbury (Wiltshire) would continue to acknowledge their Irish foundation throughout the medieval period. Later in the medieval period a second wave of missionary activity would come in the form of the Irish Cé li Dé who were introduced to Scotland probably via Iona in the early 9th DOI: 10.4324/9780429024559-9

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century. By the 10th or 11th century there were eremitic Cé li Dé at remote sites such as Inchaffray and Loch Leven in Perth and Kinross (Gilchrist 2020, 51). Many Irish missionaries were motivated by the ideal of peregrinatio and some Irish-founded British hermitages were part of a network of ecclesiastical sites or offshoots of a more major site (Edwards 2009, 8), such as at Iona, Scotland and Bardsey Island, Wales. Travel between Ireland and the British Isles involved a journey by sea and sea routes would have been tried and tested over many centuries of trade and migration. Western Scotland was visible from the Irish mainland, and at its shortest point the journey from Ireland to Scotland was just under 20 km; a journey which could have been completed in a little over 3 hours on a good day. Moreover, local seafaring knowledge would have understood and uti­ lised favourable times and tides. For example, the ancient trade routes from Ireland to the Inner Hebridean islands on the west coast of Scotland, which was determined by potentially favourable tides and good shelter from west and east winds, followed a relatively sheltered route. One route was from the northeastern Irish coast to the Sound of Jura, north by the sheltered Seil Sound and thence west to the Sound of Mull. A short journey along the southern coastline of Mull would bring one to the small island of Iona, an important Irish foundation and seat of early Scottish Christianity. This combination of coastal and sheltered routes allowed small craft to make progress even in a gale force (Rae 2011, 10–11). Archaeological evidence for boats of the period is limited but the possible 5th-century boat from Ashby Dell, the 6th-century boat from Snape and the clinker-built 7th-century Sutton Hoo ship burial (all from Suffolk in England) were all potentially capable of sea and coastal passage and were probably representative ex­ amples of the range of sea faring vessels of the time. Other boats would have included well-built coracles and larger curraghs made of skin and wicker with wooden frames (Figure 7.1). These types of vessels were documented by the Romans as being used in British waters and archaeological evidence for tools used in the construction of such vessels have been found in caves on the Inner Hebridean islands of Orinsay, Jura and Colonsay. Versions of these boats were apparently still used up to the 18th century and were quick, light and easy to carry. However, the North Atlantic and Irish Seas would have been highly unpredictable and changeable, and many journeys would still have been perilous with rough seas and wild winds. In the late 6th century, the funeral of Columba, founder of Iona, took place in isolation because high gales prevented mourners from crossing the narrow strait from Mull. Elsewhere in his Life Admonán tells of Columba joining a crew to bail water due to heavy waves and mighty storms (Smyth 1984, 87). During the early 6th century, a formal Irish presence was established in western Scotland through the formation of the Irish kingdom of Dál Riata. This medieval kingdom encompassed the western seaboard of Scotland (Argyll) and the northeastern corner of Ireland until around the 9th century. The kingdom of Dál Riata also included the islands of the Inner Hebrides,

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Figure 7.1 ‘Curragh’ from Kilmartin Glen Museum, Argyll and Bute. These types of small vessel may have been used by monks and hermits for inland and coastal travel and coastal fishing (by author).

which provided the perfect environment for the establishment of early ere­ mitic communities. Today, the remains of many of these early Scottish hermitages and small monasteries survive and consequently forms the most ‘distinctive and widespread field-remains’ for the early medieval period in Argyll (Fisher 1997, 181). This rich Christian heritage ranges from the im­ portant religious centre at Iona founded by the exiled Irish monk Columba in AD 563 to a considerable number of enclosed sites containing the remains of stone chapels, carved stones and hut circles, some of which may be rea­ sonably defined as communal hermitages or ‘eremitic monasteries’ (Thomas 1971, 44–47). Notable examples include the small island of Rona, some 70 km from the nearest habitable land, which had a small oval enclosure and a slab-lined oratory (Nisbet and Gailey 1960), Sgorr nam Ban-Naomha (’Cliff of the Holy Women’) on the Isle of Canna (Dunbar and Fisher 1974) and the enigmatic island site of Eileach an Naoimh. At Kilmaha, Rubha Na Fidhle on the western shore of Loch Awe, the remains of a possible oratory and two associated structures within an enclosure can be faintly traced in the undergrowth and are all that survive of the former hermitage. Three inscribed Christian monuments, now removed to the nearby church at Dalavich, evi­ dence its early medieval date and its former status as a religious site. The remains of many of these early Christian hermitages and eremitic communities in Argyll have been lost through time or lie hidden underneath later churches. Some, such as Kilmaha, survive in the form of fragmentary remains whilst others are hinted at through the remains of inscribed Christian monuments or place names. Fortunately, many of these sites have been subject to wider

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survey and recording (ie, Campbell and Sandeman 1964). However, the re­ lative isolation of many of these important early Christian sites, a number of which are on private land or managed forests, and others subject to a range of potentially destructive processes such as neglect, or coastal erosion or churchyard development, means that their management is difficult and, in many cases, represents a dwindling historical legacy.

Columban Hermitages Many Scottish monasteries as well as small eremitic communities operated as dependencies of Columba’s Iona. This important monastery was a centre for early Christianity and its influence extended throughout much of Scotland and the north of Britain for almost three centuries. For example, it was from Iona that St Aidan set out in AD 636 to establish Christianity in the Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Northumbria. Today the 12th-century Abbey sits on the site of the former Columban monastery. However, several landscape features survive and include the vallum and the Tór an Abba. This outcrop of rock west of the church is traditionally held as the site of Columba’s cell described in contemporary sources, and more recently pos­ sibly supported by archaeological evidence for timber fragments dating to the Columban period (Campbell and Maldonado 2020) (Figure 7.2). The Life of Columba, written by a later abbot of Iona, Adomnán (d. 709 AD), is

Figure 7.2 Iona Abbey with the rocky outcrop of the Tór an Abba of Columba on the left. The current Abbey is later medieval in date but is probably on the site of the original Columban community (by author).

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one of the most important contemporary records for the early Irish church in Scotland. It is a work that is naturally primarily concerned with the life, events and missionary work of Columba himself. However, it also has some important incidental reference to monasteries and eremitic communities, some of which may be linked to archaeological remains. Of particular sig­ nificance is Adomnán’s description of an eremitic settlement in his account of the monk Fergae who left Ireland and sailed to Hinba, where he spent the rest of his days. Here … he remained for many years in obedience among the brethren and lived faultlessly. For a further twelve years he withdrew to live in isolation at the place of the anchorites in Muirbolc Mar or ‘sea bag’ (bay), and ‘died a victorious soldier of Christ’. (Sharpe 1995, 230, my italics) This intriguing excerpt tells us that the island of Hinba had a monastery but also and an ‘anchorite’ place, or hermitage. This is a pattern that we have already seen in Ireland, for example at Skellig Michael and Inishmurray, and it can also be found on Iona itself with reference to Cladh an Dìsirt (burial ground of the hermitage) which is situated 400 metres northeast of the abbey (Fisher 1997, 191). The island named Hinba is mentioned several times in Adomnán’s Life of Columba. It has not yet been identified but possibilities include Jura (Watson 1926, Bradley 2015) and Colonsay (Sharpe 1995) despite the lack of any significant archaeological remains. Other proposed sites, and where some remains of an early eremitic com­ munity survive, include Canna (O’Neill 2008) and perhaps more convin­ cingly, Eileach an Naoimh (Bryce and Knight 1930).

Eileach an Naoimh and Penitential Islands Eileach an Naoimh (Island or Rock of the Saint) is a small, narrow and un­ inhabited island, and the southernmost of a group of islets known as the Garvellachs, or ‘Isles of the Sea’ in the Inner Hebrides. It lies just over 50 km east from Iona across the Firth of Lorn. The craggy islands are relatively isolated and often exposed to the force of Atlantic gales making them at times unaccessible from the mainland. On the landward side of Eileach an Naoimh several narrow creeks indent the rocky shores and today permit access by small dirigibles in calmer conditions.1 There is a strong case, in this author’s opinion, of Eileach an Naoimh being Hinba. Naoimh means ‘saint’ or ‘holy’. The island has a traditional association with Brendan of Clonfert, the famous sailor-monk. If the island be the ‘Aileach’ (a rocky or stony place) mentioned in the later Vita Brendani on which the Saint founded a monastery then, it has been claimed, the community he founded would accordingly date to around the 540s and 20 years or so before St Columba founded Iona (Watson 1926; Bryce and Knight 1930 96–98). In other sources, Adomnán’s Life of Columba

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records that Columba visited and stayed on Hinba on numerous occasions. The Life also refers to four saints, including St Brendan, who visited Columba on the island of Hinba. Despite references to other islands, Eileach an Naoimh itself is not mentioned by name. This is particularly significant since there is clear archaeological evidence for an early monastery on the site, as well as a prominent burial claimed to be that of Columba’s mother, Eithne. In fact, Eileach an Naoimh represents the most substantial undocumented site of monastic character in the whole of Argyll (Fisher 1997, 189). If these remains date to the 6th century, then the island would have presumably been known and hence its religious community. It is difficult to imagine Eileach an Naoimh not being mentioned by Adomnán unless, of course, it was referred to as ‘Hinba’. Its proximity to Iona meant it was easily accessible. By sea it equates to just under 30 nautical miles which, weather permitting, could have been achieved in less than a day. It was also accessible via sea from Ireland and would have been en route to the important monastery at Lismore as well as Dunadd on the Scottish mainland, the possible capital of Dál Riata. Eileach an Naoimh has often been discounted as being Hinba due to the lack of evidence for the ‘Muirbolc Mar’, or ‘sea bag’ (a bay) mentioned by Adomnán. However, the southeast side of the island, where the archaeological remains are visible, is sheltered by a small archipelago of rocky islands which form a small bay which would have given some sheltered access to the monastery. Here there are a number of sheltered inlets, which could easily have served as natural harbours (Figure 7.3).

Figure 7.3 Natural harbour on Eileach an Naoimh, Argyll and Bute, looking to­ wards Jura in the distance (by author).

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The remains on Eileach an Naoimh have been greatly affected by later ecclesiastical and agricultural use, but several notable early features do survive. These include a set of beehive huts, Eithne’s grave memorial and a possible penitential underground chamber, as well as evidence for a small inlet harbour and a well (Figures 7.4 and 7.5). The well is probably fed by underground springs originating in Mull (according to local boatmen), and the presence of natural water may have been a determining factor in the selection of the island for monastic settlement. Other features include a later medieval chapel, two cemeteries, the remains of an enclosure wall, and remnants of a number of associated structures (Figure 7.6). The two beehive cells on Eileach an Naoimh are located close to the shore and are in relatively good condition with some of the corbel roofing still intact. They are separated from the main, and later, monastic complex and may represent the primary phase of the island’s use as an eremitic settle­ ment. The two circular cells are connected by an adjoining passage and are similar in this respect to those found at Killabuonia in Ireland, noted earlier. The underground cell is located on the upper terrace away from the beehives and just to the south of the later chapel (Figure 7.7). The cell is entered via a set of narrow stone steps. The walls of the chamber are of similar con­ struction to the beehives and the roof is formed of stone slabs. Today the chamber is partially filled with water and is under 2 metres in diameter with a height of no more than 1.5 metres. Opposite the chamber entrance is a small recess, possibly for a candle or image. The dimensions of the cell are small and hence have given rise to its interpretation as a store (Bryce and

Figure 7.4 Early beehive huts at Eileach an Naoimh (by author).

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Figure 7.5 Eithne’s grave memorial, Eileach an Naoimh (by author).

Figure 7.6 Remains of monastic buildings, Eileach an Naoimh (by author).

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Figure 7.7 Underground cell , possibly for penetential use, Eileach an Naoimh (by author).

Knight 1930, 83–84). However, due to the wider context and evidence for penitential practices in the early eremitic sites, and reference to ‘penitential houses’ by Adomnán, its use in this regard cannot be discounted . Certainly, its dimensions would allow for sitting or kneeling, and it may have alter­ natively served as a specific subterranean space for contemplation or prayer. On a rise southwest of the chapel and enclosure is the site of Eithne’s Grave, reputedly the mother of Columba. The remains comprise a small kerbed en­ closure, with two stone markers, one of which has a small ‘Greek’ style cross incised by percussion which may place it in the earliest Christian period in Scotland (Bryce and Knight 1930, 89). It has been further conjectured that the soil within the kerb was imported to allow for burials. (RCAHMS 1984). Due to its links with Columba and Iona, the site may have had a special religious significance in the region and a focus for pilgrimage and would compare to similar sites in Ireland, noted previously. Furthermore, in this light, the shrine may have also been the focus of outdoor devotional or ritual activity for early hermits, who would have presumably acted as wardens for the shrine. Adomnán described Hinba as having a monastery and an eremitic settlement. At Eileach an Naoimh the area around the beehive huts may represent the eremitic community, while the later buildings, around 100 metres to the northwest, including the cemetery and chapel may mark the original site of the early monastery, now obscured or demolished by later buildings. If this is the case, then admittedly the two sites are reasonably close together.

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However, the fact that the monastery sat on a higher ridge directly above the small harbour and was somewhat removed from the beehive huts may mean that some level of isolation or seclusion was still maintained. Leaving aside the identification of Eileach an Naoimh as Hinba, the re­ ligious community on the islands was fairly representative of other eremitic sites located on island and coastal sites in and around the Inner and Outer Hebrides. As noted, the standard of remains on Eileach are notably good. Elsewhere, there are some fragmentary survivals but in many cases the evi­ dence is limited. This might be because many eremitic sites later developed into larger monasteries. It is also possible that the buildings on some early sites might have been constructed of wood or turf. Both Adomnán, and in a northern British context, the Anglo-Saxon monk Bede (c. AD 672–735), re­ ferenced wooden churches. Timber was perhaps a familiar material for early Irish monastic buildings and is evidenced from archaeological excavations, including Iona and May (Fisher 1997, 187; Yeoman 2009, 239). In Scotland (as with Ireland) most early drystone churches probably date from AD 700 onwards (Foster 2015). This has been supported by archaeological evidence; however, it might not necessarily be the case in all instances, especially on rocky island sites where timber is limited and stone might be a more obvious and practical option. Certainly techniques of drystone construction had been known since the Neolithic. In some cases, and in the absence of surviving remains, the presence of some early religious sites might be evidenced by the survival of stone monuments or grave markers such as at Eilean Mór in the MacCormac Isles, Inner Hebrides. Here, according to tradition, St Cormac had a hermitage in a cave at the south end of the island. The presence of two crosses incised on the rock inside the cave as well as a nearby ruined chapel or shrine may point to early Christian use. Another island eremitic community which had connections to Columba is Tiree, a low-lying and the most westerly island of the Inner Hebrides. Here according to Adomnán, Columba founded a monastery or ‘penitential house’ soon after his coming to Iona in AD 563 (Beveridge 1903). Today there are some remains for a possible early religious site at St Patrick’s Temple, Ceann à Mhara, which may have been an eremitic offshoot of one of Tiree’s monasteries or of Iona itself (Fisher 1997, 191). Here, on a shore below low cliffs, a small enclosure encompasses evidence for four hut plat­ forms of former beehive cells as well as the remains of early crossed-marked stones (RCAHMS 1980). Rather than the composite eremitic community, the ‘dual’ arrangement of monastery and associated hermitage, noted by Adomnán at Hinba, and seen elsewhere (Skellig Michael, for example), may have been a common ar­ rangement. The archaeological remains for a religious presence on the island of Canna are distributed over two sites. The first is Keill or A’Chill (translated as ‘the church’) in the eastern part of the island near the main harbour. The second site on Canna, Sgorr Nam Ban-naomha (Cliff of the Women) comprised a remote and isolated enclosed site which was situated

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Figure 7.8 Remains of eremitic monastery, Sgorr Nam Ban-naomha (Cliff of the Women), Canna, Inner Hebrides (© HES).

on a coastal terrace below steep cliffs on the western coast of the island (Figure 7.8). Within the enclosure, four structures were built against the outer wall, while three others were free-standing. Other individual cells were also located in more isolated positions away from the main enclosure. The location of the hermitage placed on the coastal edge of the island in an area that is rugged and isolated further points to its likely use for eremitical purposes, which may also have involved penitents (Fisher 1997, 191) (Figures 7.9). Certainly, its extreme location and inaccessibility might also point to this.

Figure 7.9 Plan of eremitic monastery, Sgorr Nam Ban-naomha (Cliff of the Women), Canna, Inner Hebrides (© Crown Copyright: HES).

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Further afield in central and eastern Scotland, evidence for early hermi­ tages and eremitic communities is more limited and this is largely due to intensive settlement and agriculture which has removed or obscured the physical evidence for early churches (Yeoman 2009, 228). The most com­ plete evidence for an early monastery can be found on the Tarbat peninsula, Easter Ross, at Portmahomack in the northeast of Scotland (Carver 2008). Here, a 6th-century Pictish monastery was founded with possible Columban influences. Excavations revealed evidence for the church and cemetery as well as monumental sculptures and an ‘inscription stone’, probably once part of a late 8th-century cross-slab. The presence of monumental cross slabs at Portmahomack and around the Tarbat peninsula at Nigg, Shandwick and Hilton of Cadboll, have led to the suggestion that such monuments marked out an 8th-century ritual landscape that memorialised the former presence of saints and their hermitages and caves pre-dating the foundation of the mon­ astery itself (Carver 2008, 187). The placement of a monastic settlement on an earlier religious site can also be seen at May. May Island is located 8 km offshore where the Forth Estuary meets the North Sea. Here, excavations revealed a 5th–7th-century Christian burial ground comprised of exclusively middle age or elderly men. The cem­ etery pre-dated the earliest church building by four centuries (Yeoman 2009). Like Portmahomack, the site has earlier associations with a saint, and it is possible that it was the burial site and later shrine of St Ethernan. No buildings survive from the early periods, but it is almost certain they would have existed, and may have been either constructed of timber, or stone that has long been reused elsewhere. May is clearly ‘well suited to eremitical use’ (Yeoman 2009, 240) and the cemetery might reflect a small community of hermits who were perhaps responsible for the maintenance of the shrine.

Hermitage Caves in Scotland Many cave sites in Scotland were linked with early medieval saints and hermits. In some cases, as at Portmahomack, caves were part of a con­ structed landscape of sacred hagiographic memory. Unlike later medieval cave sites, which often have firm evidence of settlement, early medieval caves are more problematic in terms of direct surviving evidence, as noted in the case of Ireland, earlier. However, the fact that many caves are associated with hermit saints means that at the very least they had some part to play in the story of early Christianity in Scotland. In this sense the naming and hagiographic appropriation of caves played an important role in the Christianisation of the early medieval Scottish landscape. Such caves are relatively numerous. Examples include the caves along the southern coast­ line of the Solway Firth such as Ouchtrimackain Cave which was believed to have provided shelter for a hermit, and in more recent times has become known locally as Monk’s Cave. A more archaeologically significant example is St Medan’s Cave and chapel which comprises a grotto that has been

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widened with a clay and mortar stone wall constructed across the front. There is also some evidence for a staircase leading to an upper sanctuary or apartment (RCAHMS 1985). St Molaise’s Cave on Holy Island, just east of the larger Isle of Arran, is a rock-shelter which has simple cross inscriptions as well as some later Norse runic inscriptions. Another, St Ninian’s Cave, is in a cliff face about 5 km southwest of the important early Christian site of Whithorn in Dumfries and Galloway, and traditionally said to have been founded by Ninian himself. However, the earliest reference to Ninian is from the Ecclesiastical History of the English People written by the Northumbrian monk Bede around c. AD 731. However, the name ‘Uinniau’, a British bishop who taught Columba in Iona may be identical with Finnian a name that has been perhaps over time confused or conflated with that of Ninian. There are many dedications to Finnian in the vicinity of Whithorn but none date to the time of Ninian in the 5th century (Yorke 2006, 113). This may suggest either a later date for the cave, or a later dedication and an attempt, as at Portmahomack, to create a hagiographic landscape. The cave is tradi­ tionally regarded as that used by St Ninian as a retreat, where according to the Miracula Nynie Episcopi of the 8th century he ‘studied heavenly wisdom with a devoted mind in a cave of horrible blackness’ (Historic Environment Scotland 2013). It became a place of pilgrimage thereafter and the inscription of seven crosses of an early form are cut into the rock face on its west side. A variety of stone memorials and crosses found at the site in the late 19th century are now in the museum at Whithorn Priory (Ralegh Radford 1950). In terms of hagiographic landscapes, it is no surprise that there are a number of caves associated with St Columba. Perhaps the best known is ‘Columba’s Cave’ near Ellary on Loch Caolisport. The cave is set back from

Figure 7.10 Columba’s Cave near Ellary on Loch Caolisport (by author).

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Figure 7.11 Cave associated with St Columba, Keil Point on the southern tip of Kintyre peninsula (by author).

a bay on the Kintyre peninsula (Figure 7.10). Excavations revealed pre­ historic use and Iron Age ceramics (Bradley 2015, 53). By the 7th and 8th centuries pilgrims had inscribed crosses on the wall of the cave as well as erecting an altar on the shelf of the interior (ibid). Another cave with as­ sociations to St Columba can be found on the coast at Keil Point, near Southend on the southern tip of Kintyre (Figure 7.11). Keil Point is claimed as the landing point of St Columba’s original mission, perhaps because the Irish coast was only 16 km across the sea. Today the site has the remains of a ruined chapel, spring and later cemetery and a series of caves, including one particularly considerable cavern located along a windswept spur on the bay. The form and fabric of early medieval Christian eremitic practice in Ireland and Scotland between the 5th and 8th centuries is distinctive. The main characteristics of these hermitages include coastal or island locations, relative isolation, small, enclosed settlements with cells, chapel, cemetery, and often shrines or outdoor ritual foci. Some hermitages had independent status whilst other were linked to major monastic sites and thus served as satellites or a context for penitential practice or solitary retreats. At times, caves may have represented earlier hermitage sites connected to local saints. What links all these hermitage sites is the importance of location and landscape; whether it be a recreation of the ‘desert’- often manifested as the open isolation of the sea, the subterranean significance of cave sites or a constructed landscape of sacred hagiographic memory (real or otherwise). Although many sites were situated in virtual isolation, they did nonetheless form part of a complex network of religious sites that stretched across Ireland and Scotland throughout the western Atlantic seaboard and the

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Hebrides. The influence of this early Christian network expanded southward establishing important monastic centres at Whitby and Lindisfarne, in Anglo-Saxon Northumbria, where the ardour for the eremitic life was to manifest in the island hermitages of St Cuthbert. Irish missionaries and peregrinates also filtered across the Irish Sea to found hermitages and monasteries in Wales and Cornwall.

Hermits and Hermitages in Wales and West Britain Maritime travel between Wales and Ireland was well established and fol­ lowed a long tradition of contact known since prehistoric times (Bezant 2013, 135). However, in Wales there were elements of both Irish and also continental forms of church organisation. Despite influence from the Irish church, the early Welsh Church had distinctive elements but it was also closely linked with the growth of early Christendom elsewhere in the British Isles and mainland Europe (Petts 2009). Wales, particularly in the southeast where there was a direct Roman presence, was still deeply influenced by Roman Christianity. Parts of Wales absorbed ideas of eremitical tradition from the church of Gaul conveyed by ‘Gaulish aristocratic refugees fleeing along the western sea routes in the face of barbarian invasions’ (Graham Jones 2014, 10). Major Roman settlements at Caerleon and particular the Roman town of Caerwent would have represented metropolitan centres where a wide range of political, cultural and religious ideas would have circulated, and no doubt promulgated into the wider landscape. The con­ tinuity of Roman Christianity in southeast Wales is consistent with some early sources. For example, the Life of St Samson (7th/8th century) recorded that the saint was born and raised in South Wales, studying under Illtud at his famous school at Llantwit Major (Wooding and Jankulak 2011, 11). Evidence from church excavations, including some that are adjacent to Roman villa sites such as Llantwit Major and Llandough, also supports some level of post-Roman continuity (Wooding and Jankulak 2011, 11–12). Unlike Ireland and Scotland, and indeed England, there is no surviving remains of standing church fabric in Wales prior to the Romanesque period of the 12th century (Edwards 2009, 10). It is therefore difficult to both identify early monastic sites and eremitic sites, more directly. Although the locations of early eremitic sites can be identified, such as Burry Holms on the Gower Peninsula, for example, there is little in terms of visible or datable archaeological remains. This is almost certainly due to the later foundations of churches and monasteries on sites. What we do have are around 600 carved stone monuments in Wales which date from between the 5th and early 12th century (Edwards 2009, 9). Many of these monuments are found on church sites, which may point to an earlier religious presence. In all probability many of the small islands of the northwest and south­ west coasts of Wales once had early medieval monasteries and eremitical sites. Certainly, the presence of later monasteries or church buildings on

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sites such as Ramsay Island, Caldey Island, Bardsey Island, Puffin Island and Burry Holms might further support this. There are also a number of documentary references to early hermits and eremitic communities, parti­ cularly relating to Cé li Dé (culdees). At Bardsey Island (Ynys Enlli), an important place of pilgrimage throughout the medieval period, the 12thcentury chronicler Gerald of Wales reported that ‘… here is a small island occupied by some extremely devout monks, called the ceolibes or colidei … the bodies of a vast number of holy men are buried there’ (Thorpe 1978, 183–184). This included the 6th-century saint, Dyfrig (Dubricius), who made his Lenten retreat on Bardsey, where he also returned to die. At Priestholme (also known as Yns Lannog, Yns Seriol, or Puffin Island), Gerald recorded that it was named Priest’s Island, ‘because so many of the Saints are buried there’ (Thorpe 1978, 190). Today the ruins of several ecclesiastical buildings are visible on the island, within and about a walled enclosure. Gerald’s ‘ceolibes’ or ‘colidei’ (Cé li Dé ) founded a number of hermitages in northwest Wales, some of which were associated with existing churches (including Priestholme with Penmon, and Anglesey and Bardsey with Aberdaron on the Ilyn Peninsular (Davidson 2009, 51). The Life of St Samson recorded that the 6th-century saint, Samson, lived as a hermit on Caldey Island, in the mouth of the Severn (Wooding and Jankulak 2011, 11). It is recorded that both Samson and St David had retreated from Llantwit Major to Caldey Island. Samson later moved from Caldey, and perhaps seeking greater iso­ lation went to live in a cave (Taylor 2007). Archaeological excavations on the site of Burry Holms, a small islandpromontory at the north of Rhossili Bay on the Gower Peninsular, has revealed some evidence for an early eremitic site underlying the later

Figure 7.12 The island hermitage of Burry Holms, Rhossili Bay, Wales (by author).

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buildings (Figure 7.12). The hermitage was attached to the priory of Llangennith on the mainland, where a 12th-century church remains today. The original monastic site at Llangennith, however, is probably reflected by the sub-circular churchyard, which may mark the enclosure of the original monastery. The hermitage on Burry Holms may have been the hermitage of ‘St Kenydd-atte-Holme’, or St Cenydd (9th century) recorded in later documents of around 1195. It is also recorded as the ‘deserted church of St Kined,’ to which St Caradoc retired early in the 12th century. Caradoc is reported to have repaired Cenydd’s earlier church and constructed himself a hut close by (Clay 2014, 17). The remains of earlier prehistoric activity can still be seen in the form of a possible earthwork bank and ditch to the west of the hermitage and may indicate some prior significance given to the island. The excavations on Burry Holms conducted between 1965 and 1968 re­ vealed the presence of pre-Norman monastic structures including a postbuilt structure and a possible oratory, constructed within a stone-walled enclosure. Nearby, evidence for a rudimentary timber hut was found which dated to the 11th century (Hague 1965–1969). Archaeological evidence for a grave site beneath, and cut by, the wooden oratory also suggested the earlier presence of occupants on the island, perhaps representative of an earlier medieval hermitage pre-dating Ceyndd (Hague 1965–1969). The island’s use as a hermitage site continued throughout the medieval period until the 15th century when Philip Lichepoll, William Bernard and Thomas Norys are recorded as being hermits there on separate occasions (McAvoy 2010, 203). The lower levels of the small rectangular chapel survive today and are

Figure 7.13 Remains of chapel, Burry Holms (by author).

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located on the landward side of the island (Figure 7.13). Of interest is the east window and the aligned splay of the south window which would have given a view across the bay, possibly to other ecclesiastical sites on the mainland and may suggest some form of inter-visibility between various religious sites in the wider landscape. One the most evocative remains of a medieval hermitage in Wales can be found at St Govan’s Head, Pembrokeshire. St Govan’s Chapel is located at the foot of a cliff, in a small enclosed and exposed bay and only accessible today via a narrow stone stair (Figure 7.14). The hermitage is a limestonebuilt single-cell chapel dating to about the 13th century and connected, and giving access to, a cave at its east end. The chapel measures approximately 5.3 × 3.8 metres with an interior that had plastered walls and low benches on the north and south sides, and a piscina and window in the south wall. The north wall has a simple entrance at its west end and a small recess or shelf. To the north of the altar a narrow doorway gives access to the interior of a cave (Figure 7.15). It is clear that the cave had some previous significance as it is architecturally incorporated into the later building and may have been associated in some manner with the 6th-century Irish saint, Govan, to whom the hermitage is named. St Govan’s certainly conforms for a pattern, noted previously, with the construction of chapels or oratories on or close to earlier caves sites. Here, the chapel appears to be a late addition and it is entirely possible that it replaced an earlier version, or some form of asso­ ciated structure attached to the cave. Clearly the cave, incorporated into the

Figure 7.14 Hermitage and chapel, St Govan’s Head, Pembrokeshire, Wales (by author).

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Figure 7.15 Interior of St Govan’s hermitage looking east showing altar and doorway through to the cave (by author).

body of the chapel itself with its entrance adjacent to the high altar was designed so as to have some ritual or memorial function, and in this light may have acted as a physical and visual reminder of the saint within a more contemporary and devotional religious context. In southwestern Britain the early medieval eremitic ideal flourished among some of the coastal settlements and islands of Devon and Cornwall, which until the English consolidation of the 10th century were culturally part of the wider ‘Celtic’ world. Principle among these eremitic sites are the islands group of Scilly and Lundy Island. Lundy Island lies in the Bristol Channel about 18 km from the north Devon coastline. Excavations in the late 1960s on the site of Beacon Hill on the west coast of the island un­ covered the remains of a cemetery, which overlaid an earlier Iron Age set­ tlement. The cemetery contained four inscribed stones of 5th or 6th century date (Thomas 1994) (Figure 7.16). The presence of rectangular stone en­ closure containing a single stone cist burial may have represented a shrine grave of the type already seen in Ireland and Scotland. The interior of the enclosure was filled with small granite pieces, which may have been pilgrim offerings, again a phenomenon witnessed in other early medieval ‘Celtic’ sites, including at Skellig Michael. The site was originally enclosed by a curvilinear bank and ditch, which is still visible in the southwest corner. Overall, the remains are suggestive of an eremitic community revolving around a ritual focus or a focal grave of an earlier founding figure or saint.

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Figure 7.16 Inscribed stones of 5th or 6th century date from Lundy Island (by author).

The Isles of Scilly, an archipelago off the southwestern tip of Cornwall, has long been a place of pilgrimage, with evidence for the presence of a Roman shrine to the native sea goddess at Nornour in the eastern isles (Thomas 1985 170–172). The quantity and quality of Roman finds from Nornour, which included coins, glass beads, clay figurines and miniature pots have been claimed as the ‘most iconic and enigmatic emblems of Scilly’s archaeological heritage’ (Johns 2012, 110). Elsewhere, there is significant evidence for early medieval hermitages on the islands, some of which have been the subject of excavations including St Helen’s (O’Neil 1964); Teä n (Thomas 1960) and East Porth, Samson (Johns 2012). There is also some documentary evidence for hermits present on the islands. One of the earliest references is from Snorri Sturluson’s Heimskringla Saga of Olaf Tryggvason dating to the late 10th century, which referred to a hermit living on one of the islands (Bowley 1964, 34–38). The hermitage site on St Helen’s was probably founded sometime during the 8th–10th centuries. Excavations revealed the earliest phase of the site comprised a rectangular oratory or chapel, a circular living cell or hut and a small number of graves within a rough-walled enclosure (O’Neill 1964; Thomas 1985, 181). The excavations suggested that the site may have started out as a solitary hermit site, with a single round hut and oratory before expanding to a communal hermitage with several rectangular huts for individual accommodation surrounding the oratory. The site may relate to the hermitage and burial place of St Lide or ‘Elidius’, reputedly a British bishop from who the name St Helen’s is later derived (Orme 2000, 111). In the early 11th century, a small church was built to the northeast and around 1120 the church was granted to Tavistock

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Abbey in Devon on mainland Britain. Consequently, pilgrim traffic in­ creased to the shrine of St Elidis and the site was expanded and developed. Other possible hermitage sites include the neighbouring island of Teä n, a multi-period site where ceramic finds from a hut overlying a Roman and early medieval midden were of the 5th–7th century date and included im­ ported pottery (Bii amphora, a Biv handled jar and nine class E-ware) (Thomas 1960). At East Porth, Samson, a sequence of a timber structures was excavated which were replaced by a stone building, similar to that found on Teän. The east-west aligned stone building is rectangular in plan with internal measurements of 3.38 metres and 1.98 metres. Occupation debris around the house suggests it was a ‘domestic habitation (perhaps that of a hermit) rather than a chapel’ (Johns 2012, 131). Overall, the sites from southwest Britain and Wales conformed to type of eremitism that was often situated in extreme locations with distinctive ar­ chaeological remains and monument types. Many sites were later subject to rebuilding or replaced over time as the original hermitages expanded or changed status. Caves were also still a feature of many hermit sites. Eremitism was to have less of an impact on early medieval England, particularly in the southeast, which until the early 7th century was ruled largely by pagan kings controlling independent kingdoms. Nevertheless, in the nothern AngloSaxon Kingdom of Northumbria, which at times included areas of what is now southeast Scotland, Irish and Scottish Christian missionaries had sig­ nificant impact. Consequently, Northumbria was to produce one of England’s most famous monasteries, and one of its most famous saints and hermits in Cuthbert of Lindisfarne. Cuthbert and his contemporaries would come to inspire English hermits for centuries to come, and in many ways provided the model for the hermit ideal as it emerged from the mists of the ‘Celtic’ world and post-Roman Britain and into early Anglo-Saxon England.

Note 1 Though often, as in the case of this author, getting onto the island from the boat can be dangerous and, in this case, literally involves a leap of faith involving a jump from rocking bow to rocky outcrop.

References Beveridge, E. (1903) Coll and Tiree: Their Prehistoric Forts and Ecclesiastical Antiquities with Notices of Ancient Remains in the Treshnish Isles. Edinburgh: T. and A. Constable. Bezant, J. (2013) ‘Travel and Communication’, in J. Burton and K. Stöber (eds.), Monastic Wales, New Approaches. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 133–146. Bowley, R. (1964) The Fortunate Isles: A History of the Isles of Scilly, 5th ed. Reading: Bowley Publications Ltd. Bradley, I. (2015) Argyll: The Making of a Spiritual Landscape. Edinburgh: St Andrew’s Press.

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Bryce, T. H. and Knight, G. A. (1930) ‘Report on a Survey of the Antiquities on Eileach an Naoimh’, Transactions of the Glasgow Archaeological Society, New Series, 8 (2), 62–102. Campbell, E. and Maldonado, A. (2020) ‘A New Jerusalem “at the Ends of the Earth”: Interpreting Charles Thomas’s Excavations at Iona Abbey 1956–63’, Antiquaries Journal, 100, 33–85. Campbell, M. and Sandeman, M. (1964) ‘Mid Argyll: An Archaeological Survey’, Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, 95, 70–71. Carver, M. (2008) Portmahomack: Monastery of the Picts. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Clay, R. M. (2014) Hermits and Anchorites of England. Edited by P. Campbell. Howell, MI: Cruachan Hill Press. Davidson, A. (2009) ‘The Early Medieval Church in North-West Wales’, in N. Edwards (ed.), The Archaeology of the Early Medieval Celtic Churches. Proceedings of a Conference on the Archaeology of the Early Medieval Celtic Churches, September 2004, The Society for Medieval Archaeology Monographs, 29; The Society for Church Archaeology Monographs, 1. Leeds: Maney, 41–60. Dunbar, J. G. and Fisher, I. (1974) ‘Sgor nam Ban-Naomha (“Cliff of the Holy Women”), Isle of Canna’, Scottish Archaeological Forum, 5, 71–75. Edwards, N. (2009) ‘The Archaeology of the Early Medieval Celtic Churches: An Introduction’, in N. Edwards (ed.), The Archaeology of the Early Medieval Celtic Churches. Proceedings of a Conference on the Archaeology of the Early Medieval Celtic Churches, September 2004, The Society for Medieval Archaeology Monographs, 29; The Society for Church Archaeology Monographs, 1. Leeds: Maney, 1–20. Fisher, I. (1997) ‘Early Christian Archaeology in Argyll’, in G. Ritchie (ed.), The Archaeology of Argyll. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 181–204. Foster, S. (2015) ‘Physical Evidence for the Early Church in Scotland’, in P. Barnwell (ed.), Buildings for Worship in Britain: Celtic and Anglo-Saxon, Physical Evidence for the Early Church in Scotland. Donhead: Shaun Tyas, 68–91. Gilchrist, R. (2020) Sacred Heritage: Monastic Archaeology, Identities, Beliefs. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Graham Jones, J. (2014) The History of Wales. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Hague, D. B. (1965–1969) Provisional Account of the Excavations 1965–9. Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Wales, HMW AP945091/55; 955111/49. Historic Environment Scotland (2013) St Ninian’s Cave. [Statement of Significance]. Edinburgh: Historic Environment Scotland. Johns, C. (2012) Isles of Scilly Historic Environment Research Framework: Resource Assessment and Research Agenda. Truro: Cornwall Council Historic Environment Service. McAvoy, L. H. (2010) ‘Anchorites and Medieval Wales’, in L. H. McAvoy (ed.), Anchoritic Traditions of Medieval Europe. Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 195–216. Nisbet, H. C. and Gailey, R. A. (1960) ‘A Survey of the Antiquities of North Rona’, Archaeological Journal, 117 (1), 88–115. O’Neill, P. (2008) ‘When Onomastics Met Archaeology: A Tale of Two Hinbas’, The Scottish Historical Review, 87 (1), 26–41.

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O’Neill, H. E. (1964) ‘Excavation of a Celtic Hermitage on St Helens, Isles of Scilly, 1956-58’, Archaeological Journal, 121, 40–69. Orme, N. (2000) The Saints of Cornwall. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Petts, D. (2009) The Early Medieval Church in Wales. Stroud: The History Press. Rae, R. J. (2011) ‘A Voyage in Search of Hinba’, Historic Argyll, 16, 1–12. (Lorn Archaeological and Historical Society). Ralegh Radford, C. A. (1950) ‘St Ninian’s Cave’, Transactions of Dumfriesshire and Galloway Natural History and Antiquaries Society, 28, 96–98. RCAHMS (1980) The Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Scotland. Argyll: An Inventory of the Monuments Volume 3: Mull, Tiree, Coll and Northern Argyll (excluding the early medieval and later monuments of Iona). Edinburgh: Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Scotland. RCAHMS (1984) The Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Scotland. Argyll: An Inventory of the Monuments Volume 5: Islay, Jura, Colonsay and Oronsay. Edinburgh: Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Scotland. RCAHMS (1985) The Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Scotland. The Archaeological Sites and Monuments of West Rhins, Wigtown District, Dumfries and Galloway Region. The Archaeological Sites and Monuments of Scotland Series 24. Edinburgh: Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Scotland. Sharpe, R. (trans.) (1995) Adomnán of Iona: Life of St Columba. London: Penguin. Smyth, A. P. (1984) Warlords and Holy Men. Scotland AD 80–1000. Baltimore: Edward Arnold. Taylor, T. (2007) The Life of St Samson of Dol. Montana. Kessinger Publishing LLC. Thomas, A. C. (1960) Excavations on Teän, Isle of Scilly, 1956, and Problems of the Scillonian Landscape. Unpublished Report. University of Edinburgh. Thomas, A. C. (1971) The Early Christian Archaeology of North Britain. Oxford. Oxford University Press. Thomas, A. C. (1985) Exploration of a Drowned Landscape: Archaeology and History of the Isles of Scilly. London: Batsford Ltd. Thomas, A. C. (1994) And Shall These Mute Stones Speak? Post-Roman Inscriptions in Western Britain. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Thorpe, L. (trans.) (1978) Gerald of Wales. The Journey through Wales. The Description of Wales. London: Penguin. Watson, W. J. (1926) The History of the Celtic Place-Names of Scotland. Edinburgh: William Blackwood and Sons Ltd. Wooding, J. and Jankulak, K. (2011) ‘The Archaeology of the Saints’, in CADW: PanWales Heritage Interpretation Plan. Celtic Saints, Spiritual Places and Pilgrimage. Touchstone Heritage Management Consultants/Red Kite Environment/Creu-ad, 11–14. Yeoman, P. (2009) ‘Investigations on May Island, and Other Early Medieval Churches and Monasteries in Scotland’, in N. Edwards (ed.), The Archaeology of the Early Medieval Celtic Churches, Society for Archaeology Monographs, 29; The Society for Church Archaeology Monographs, 1. Leeds: Maney, 227–244. Yorke, B. (2006) The Conversion of Britain: Religion, Society and Politics 600–800. Harlow: Pearson Longman.

8

Hermits and Hermitages in Early Medieval England

Historical Overview Anglo-Saxon England prior to c. 1100 does not appear to have the range and variation of archaeological evidence for the eremitic life that is other­ wise found in the so-called ‘Celtic’ church that we have considered in earlier chapters. Much of this is due to the nature and structure of the early AngloSaxon church. In England, the establishment of Christianity as a result of the Augustine mission of AD 597 went in hand in hand with the formation of early Anglo-Saxon kingdoms. Consequently, the church was not only intrinsically linked with secular power, but the foundation of monasteries was an integral component of royal patronage and the wider dissemination and display of secular power and authority. In the context of ambitious expansion and consolidation, the church arguably had less room for the comparatively modest, and potentially less-regulated vocation of the hermit. As we enter the early medieval period in England, during the 5th and 6th centuries, large parts of Britain were settled by migrant Germanic tribes that filled a vacuum left by the withdrawal, after four centuries, of the Roman provincial administration. Consequently, early ‘Anglo-Saxon’ England was nominally pagan, although we should perhaps see this, at least as far as we can understand it, not as a formal ‘religion’ but rather an informal pantheism without any orthodox or institutionalised system of belief. Christianity continued to remain a force in the north and west of England and was quick to make inroads within the circle of emerging Anglo-Saxon elites and subsequently their kingdoms. In the north, the Irish Church had played a major role in conversion of Northumbria and some of the Northern Anglo-Saxon Kingdoms (Yorke 2006, 118). In Kent, Roman missionaries sent by Pope Gregory and under the leadership of Augustine began a pro­ gramme of conversion which then made its way westward and northward. By AD 700 the ‘first stage’ of Roman conversion had been largely completed (Yorke 2006, 135). The competing influences of the Irish and Roman churches came to a head in the 7th century. In AD 664, the Synod of Whitby, ruling in favour of Rome, had settled once and for all the question of Christian au­ thority in England between the Irish and Roman church. From that time on DOI: 10.4324/9780429024559-10

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direct Irish influence on the foundation and development of monasteries was diminished. However, the legacy of the Irish church continued in the form of Anglo-Saxon hermits, many who had trained in the Irish tradition. Early English hermits are attested to in the historical sources, and many tended to have clear monastic associations (Blair 2005, 217). Among these, and un­ deniably the most famous of early medieval English hermits, was the bishop and monk, Cuthbert of Lindisfarne (AD 634–687).

The Hermitage of St Cuthbert of Lindisfarne Cuthbert was born around AD 634 in Dunbar, Northumbria (now in Scotland). Around the age of 18 or 19 he became a monk, eventually making his way up the ranks to become prior and then bishop of Lindisfarne Priory sometime around AD 684. Lindisfarne was a coastal monastery in the Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Northumbria, which during the 7th century included parts of Northern England as well as southeast Scotland. The monastery of Lindisfarne was founded around AD 635 by the Irish monk Aidan, who had travelled from Iona at the invitation of the Northumbrian King, Oswald. Despite being educated in the Irish tradi­ tion, Cuthbert himself later adopted the Roman rather than the Irish form after the Synod of Whitby in AD 664. His decision to become an island hermit later in life may have been inspired by his former education in the Irish church with its rich tradition of hermits. However, he was also welltravelled and might have had some direct experience of contemporary eremitic communities and hermits in the north of England. Much of what we know about Cuthbert’s life as a hermit can be drawn from two main, and near contemporary, sources. The earliest Vita Sancti Cuthberti (Life of Saint Cuthbert) is a hagiography from early medieval Northumbria, written probably in the last decade of the 7th century by an anonymous monk of Lindisfarne. The other main source is the Northumbrian monk Bede’s Life, written in the early 8th century and largely based on the former work. There are also references in Bede’s Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis Anglorum, an important source more generally for the history of early Anglo Saxon England. The historical sources record that Cuthbert left his monastery at Lindisfarne in or around AD 676 to seek out the solitary life. Bede writing some 50 years later, but drawing on the earlier Life, recorded that Cuthbert retired to a secluded place on the borders of a territory connected with Lindisfarne. This may have been one of the Farne Islands just off the east coast of Northumbria, possibly Hobthrush Island (now called St Cuthbert’s Island) which is connected to Lindisfarne at low tide. The island would have been in view of the monastery on Lindisfarne and may have offered some respite from the busyness of monastic life since at high tide the island is inaccessible by land.1 However, Bede’s account may refer to something in­ land and a natural cave near the village of Holburn in the Kyloe Hills has

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been suggested (Raine 1828, 20–21). The cave aptly named St Cuthbert’s Cave or Cuddy’s Cave lie about 8 km south of Lindisfarne. The cave is formed of overhanging rock and there is a natural rock pillar in the middle of the cave’s interior. The cave chamber is about 3 metres high with a width of over 20 metres and would be sufficiently large to provide ample accom­ modation (Scaife 2019). Here again we may see an actual and literal con­ nection with Cuthbert and the cave, or an attempt to create a sacralised landscape in a similar vein to what has already been noted above at Iona, Whithorn and the Tarbat Peninsular. Sometime after Cuthbert’s first so­ journ as a hermit he moved to another place where it was recorded that formerly no one could remain alone for any length of time on account of the ‘various illusions caused by devils’ (Colgrave 1940, 97). This place was the island of Inner Farne (Figure 8.1), a place that had previously been the site of a hermitage set up by Aidan who first settled on Inner Farne some­ time before AD 651. Here Bede recounts, Aidan founded ‘his retreat when he wished to pray alone and undisturbed’ (Farmer and Sherley-Price 1990, 168). Apparently, Aidan’s hermitage could still be seen when Bede was writing some 80 years later, although both Lives give a clear description of Cuthbert establishing a hermitage. This means that either Bede was mis­ taken, perhaps referring to the hermitage more generally, or that Cuthbert either reused or reorganised Aidan’s original hermitage. This seems unlikely as the description of Cuthbert’s hermitage described, in some detail, the construction of a stone and turf wall and the consequent levelling of the interior space to construct his buildings. Another possibility is that Aidan’s original hermitage was elsewhere on the island.

Figure 8.1 The Island of Inner Farne, Northumbria: The location of Cuthbert’s hermitage was probably close to where the later chapel and tower can be seen today (by author).

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Both Lives of Cuthbert provided a valuable account of Cuthbert’s time as a hermit on Farne, but perhaps more importantly they recorded information about the hermitage itself. We are informed that the hermitage was an en­ closure which was: … almost round in plan, measuring above four or five poles from wall to wall2; the wall itself on the outside is higher than a man standing upright; but inside he made it higher by cutting away the living rock, so that the pious inhabitant could see nothing except the sky … (Colgrave 1940, 217). Two buildings were placed inside the enclosure, one of which was an oratory and ‘another habitation suitable for common uses’, seemingly accom­ modation. The roofs of these buildings were of timber and straw (ibid) and presumably, given the enclosure measurements provided, were compara­ tively small. In this hermitage Cuthbert spent several years in solitude ‘cut off from the sight of men’ although we are also told that a guest house was built near the ‘landing-place’ where those who visited him ‘could be received and rest’ (Colgrave 1940, 217). It is also likely that due to his responsibilities as prior and later bishop he would have retained some level of social contact. From visiting pilgrims, Cuthbert likely received alms in the form of ‘bread’ or food,and he drank from his own well but also lived by a ‘labour of own hands’ and it is probable that he was also involved in the cultivation of his own crops on the island (Colgrave 1940, 221). Cuthbert died on Farne around AD 687. However, the hermitage con­ tinued to be used by various successors including Aethelwold of Ripon, from AD 687 until he died in AD 699, and then Felgeld who apparently carried out some restoration work (Watt 1951, 22). From then on little is known about the island or its inhabitants and by the 12th century, when Simeon of Durham was writing, the island had apparently lost much of its religious character and the oratory was used as a sheepfold (ibid, 22). Today, nothing remains of the original hermitage and the site is a marked by St Cuthbert’s chapel built in 1370. However, there is some 12th- or 13thcentury masonry visible in the north wall of the chapel, which points to an earlier building (Middleton 2010, 36). Despite the presence of the later chapel, the actual site of Cuthbert’s original hermitage is unknown. Several possibilities include that it lies under the late medieval Prior Castell’s Tower to the west of the chapel, or that the hermitage was closer to the harbour, near the ‘fisherman’s hut’ just to the east of the chapel (Watt 1951, 28; Middleton 2010, 34). The latter is in fact a strong possibility. Here today a circular depression can be seen in the ground (Figure 8.2). This location is also close to a well which is shown on John Speed’s map of 1611. The de­ pression might fit with Bede’s account of Cuthbert’s hollowing out the in­ terior of the hermitage so as to make the wall and to make the outside higher by ‘cutting away the living rock’ (Colgrave 1940, 217). This feature is also on a reasonably sheltered slope and any wall would have made the interior of the enclosure more insulated against both the elements and the outside world.

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Figure 8.2 St Cuthbert’s chapel, Inner Farne. The overgrown area to the right of the picture may mark the site of the original hermitage (by author).

Anglo-Saxon Hermitages The monastery at Lindisfarne, like Iona, may have acted as an impetus for the establishment of similar monasteries in early medieval Northumbria, including important centres at Hartlepool, Coldingham, Monkwearmouth, Jarrow and Whitby. Some hermitages were also founded, probably as sa­ tellites of larger monasteries. At Coquet Island, for example, there was a small community in 7th century (Morris 1989, 109). At Melrose (now in Scotland), Bede recorded the presence of a ‘remote house’ probably used by a bishop as a private retreat (Blair 2005, 217–218). The monastery at Hexham, Northumberland, also had a separate hermitage which comprised an oratory enclosed by a ditch (ibid). This pattern of bishop’s ‘retreats’ is of course something we have previously noted on the continent. It may in fact have also been more prevalent in the medieval period and represented a formal context for high-level churchmen to devote some time, at least, to personal prayer, study and reflection away from the administrative and political busyness of normal duty. As well as hermits and hermitages connected to local monasteries, there may have also been individuals who were not attached to monasteries and in some cases may have been largely independent or members of the laity. Furthermore, the lack of historical evidence, especially outside of a monastic context, may mean that the presence of lay hermits in the early medieval

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period may simply be unrecorded. Moreover, the fluidity of religious roles in this period, where some clergy may have also had families, means that in some cases the division between laity and clergy was not as defined or regulated as it would later become. For example, Wilgils was the father of St Willibrord ‘apostle of the Frisians’. However, according to the Life of St Willibrord (late 8th century) after arranging for his son to join the community at Ripon, Wilgils himself retreated to a small hermitage which was probably located somewhere along Spurn Point, a narrow sand and shingle spit in the mouth of the Humber originally at the southernmost edge of the kingdom of Northumbria (Mathison 2010). In other cases, hermits lived largely dependently but would still maintain a relationship with re­ ligious guides or confessors. Herbert of Derwentwater was a hermit who lived for many years on a small Derwentwater island in the Lake District, Cumbria, once on the western fringes of Northumbria. Bede’s Ecclesiastical History (IV:29) and Life of St Cuthbert recorded that he was a disciple of Cuthbert despite the almost 250 km of distance between them. Herbert’s Island is one of several islands in Lake Derwentwater. It is the more remote of the islands and lies almost a kilometre away from land. The island setting of the hermitage, in the mist-shrouded lake, would have perhaps recalled or symbolised the ‘desert’ of eremitic tradition (Figure 8.3). Today, the remains of what might have been a tiny cell are visible on the island. However, the ruins are of indeterminate date and may relate to later use of the island or as a folly erected in the 19th century. It is possible that another hermit cell was on one of the islands of Lake Windermere, also in the Lake District, where a reference of 1272 described ‘the hermit brethren of St Mary’s’ (Clay 2014, 22).

Figure 8.3 Herbert’s Island, Derwentwater, Cumbria (by author).

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Elsewhere in England, hermitages were often founded as direct monastic offshoots, and many are recorded in the south west of the country in par­ ticular (Blair 2005, 2006). This may be due to the nature of the evidence, or perhaps more likely due to the proximity to Wales and Ireland and the strong tradition of both missionary work and eremitic life there. In Wales and Ireland local cults of saints and hermits were particularly enduring, whereas in England more emphasis was placed on important monastic sites as being cult centres. It is possible that some place names may indicate the presence of former hermitages connected with local saints such as Malmesbury (Maeldubh’s Burh), which might refer to a hermitage founded by the Irish missionary, Maeldubh, in the 7th century (Blair 2005, 217). Elsewhere the archaeological evidence is limited but there is enough to suggest the eremitic life was of some relevance in areas of early medieval England, despite arguably not being such an integral feature within the in­ stitutional framework of the Anglo Saxon church. On the most celebrated Anglo-Saxon hermits was Guthlac (c. AD 673–714) a hermit of Crowland in the Fens of East Anglia, about 12 km north-east of Peterborough. Today, most of the Fens have been drained and reclaimed but in the medieval period it was predominately a fog-shrouded marshland with creeks and fen islands amid areas of higher land. This landscape was both evocative and isolated and it was here that Guthlac founded his hermitage. A contemporary source for Guthlac’s life is Felix’s Vita Sancti Guthlaci of the early 8th century, but there are also two later Guthlac poems which survive in the 10th-century Book of Exeter. The Vita Sancti Guthlaci recounted Guthlac’s search for his hermitage in the fens around Crowland. Guthlac was guided by a local man named Tatwine. They ‘embarked in a vessel, and they both went through the wild fens till they came to the spot which is called Crowland’ (Goodwin 1848, 21). True to form and much like other hermitage locales, this island was reputedly in­ famous as no person had been able to dwell there because of the ‘accursed spirits’ which haunted it (Vita Sancti Guthlaci III, 23). It may also be a later attribution, of course, devised in order to enhance the sanctity and power of the saint and give legitimacy to the hermitage. Felix reported that upon arrival Guthlac found a mound built of clods of earth, which had previously been robbed. Close to this was a sort of ‘great water-cistern’ over which Guthlac built his ‘house’ (Vita Sancti Guthlaci IV, 27). No sign of Guthlac’s hermitage exist today and its location has been traditionally disputed. However, one possibility is that it was on the same site as the later AngloSaxon and medieval Crowland Abbey, which is situated on a gravel pe­ ninsula projecting into the fens and overlooking the south bank of the River Welland. However, the documentary reference to a ‘mound’ and a ‘cistern’ (or possibly a cellared structure) may suggest that the hermitage was built close to a Bronze Age barrow and a later Roman building of some form. The hermitage may underly the abbey, but other possibilities have been put forward including the site at Anchor Church Field and Anchor Church

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Figure 8.4 Possible site of Guthlac’s hermitage, Crowland, Suffolk. Crowland Abbey can be seen in the distance (by author).

House, less than 2 km northeast of Crowland (Meaney 2001) (Figure 8.4). Here, the antiquarian William Stukeley reported that in 1708 he saw the remains of a small chapel converted into a cottage, that were later dis­ mantled. Excavations in 1866 exposed some walls and possible rooms (Page 1906). An aerial photo of 1969 also picked up cropmarks of a building and a ditch enclosure. To the west was a circular feature indicative of a barrow ditch (Linford and Linford 2002). Although subsequent geophysical survey was unable to provide more information about the site, largely due to de­ struction caused by deep ploughing, field-walking and trial excavations produced a large quantity of tesserae as well as smaller quantities of Roman pottery, roof tile and brick and a 4th-century coin (Archaeological Project Services 2004). An occupation layer carbon-dated to AD 80–250 was also revealed in one trench. It is possible that this structure was a Roman bathhouse, or a temple, certainly proximity to a source of water, and drainage, might support this, as well as lack of artefacts which one would otherwise expect from a villa. If so, this may be Felix’s ‘cistern’ feature upon which Guthlac built his hermitage. In this light, it might be that the ‘mound’ referred to in the Life was a barrow, or a mound of rubble from the defunct, and presumably robbed, Roman building. It may be that the relative iso­ lation of the island, together with pre-existing building materials might have provided an ideal context for the founding of a hermitage. The Roman ruins may also have been the perceived source of the ‘accursed spirits’ which haunted and were battled by, Guthlac during his time on the island and dramatically recounted by Felix. Recent survey and excavations at Anchor Church Field conducted by the Universities of Newcastle and Sheffield have

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uncovered the outline of a large stone-built structure, possibly a chapel. A quantity of ceramics dating to the 7th and 8th century have also been re­ trieved from the site (Current Archaeology 2022). As of writing, the project is still ongoing but future excavations may reveal more about the site and its possible connections to Guthlac. The marshes and islets of the fens, as well as proximity to the important monastic centre at Peterborough, meant that the region was ideal for the establishment of hermit sites such as Guthlac’s. Many of these early hermits and saints had close connections to the local nobility, and this may have afforded them a certain level of protection or security as well as the practical means and support to take on the ascetic life. Many of these Fenland her­ mits are recorded in later medieval sources, including the female hermit St Wendreda who had a cell at March, Throcken of Throckenholt (Thorney), Boda of Bodsey (Ramsey), Godric and Eadwin of Higney and the anonymous hermits of Singlehole on the former island of Eye (Lumley Prior 2008, 14). Although some hermitages were later replaced by church sites, such as at March, the archaeological evidence for these hermitages is now lost and much of their original landscape has changed. Despite the paucity of archaeological evidence, it is possible to shed some further light on another of the early medieval Fen hermits. Just under 10 km southeast of Crowland lies the village of Peakirk, Cambridgeshire. The site is associated with Guthlac’s sister, Pega (died c. AD 719), England’s earliest recorded female hermit. The main documentary evidence for Pega comes from the Vita Sancti Guthlaci as well as later sources, but the exact location of Pega’s hermitage is not reported except to intimate that it was less than a day’s journey by boat from Crowland (Lumley Prior 2008, 10). A later source, Orderic Vitalis’s Historia Ecclesiastica of the early 12th century is the earliest source to report that the hermitage was at Peakirk (or ‘Pega’s Church’). One tradition places Pega’s cell at or near the later St Pega’s church. The largely medieval church has fabric which dates to the later Anglo Saxon period (Taylor and Taylor 1965, 488–489) and has the remains of a late Anglo-Saxon cross shaft fragment. However, the church was more likely a later minster church, perhaps linked to the Cult of Pega and an alternative location might be on the site of the ‘Hermitage Chapel’ a short distance away. (Lumley Prior 2008). The Hermitage Chapel’s isolation from the gravel fen margin upon which the main settlement of Peakirk developed may point to its suitability as a site for an early hermitage (Lumley Prior 2008, 10). This certainly has parallels with other island retreats in the region. Today the site is a private residence but formerly it was a 12th-century chapel rebuilt in the 15th century and later restored (Figure 8.5). The site sits on a raised platform mound, at approximately 9 metres above sea level. Before drainage work conducted in the 17th century the mound would have formed an islet surrounded on most sides by the undrained Fen (Lumley Prior 2008, 10).

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Figure 8.5 Possible former location of St Pega’s hermitage, Peakirk, Cambridgeshire (by author).

The tradition of island hermitages can be found elsewhere in early med­ ieval England, and a number were located along the River Trent and its tributaries in the central midlands of England. The archaeological evidence for these hermitages is limited, but there are some fragmentary clues that may enable us to get some insight into the former location and landscape setting of these sites. According to the antiquarian William Camden, the Mercian hermit Berthelin lived on a small island in the marshes of the River Sow, Staffordshire (Erdeswick 1844, 140). The site of the hermitage was an island originally called ‘Betheney’ and may have been located on the north bank of the river, about 4 km west of where the River Sow meets the Trent (Britton and Brayley 1801, 881). The 1880 Ordinance Survey Map also shows several small islands along the Sow which are no longer visible today. The Betheney hermitage may have been close to the site of the later 12th century Augustinian priory at Tixall, whose location itself might reflect the earlier religious significance of the area. The Irish saint and hermit, Modwin, lived on St Andrew’s Island in the Trent at Burton, Staffordshire (Morris 1989, 109). There is every reason to believe that St Modwen’s well and chapel were situated on the flat meadow opposite the churchyard as this spot is still known as Annesley or Andressey, and the part of the river dividing the island from the shore is called ‘The Modwens’ or ‘Mudwins’ (Staffordshire Heritage Environment Record no: 1885). Another Andersey island, occupied by the hermit Herduin was ap­ parently found on the River Parrett, Somerset (Clay 2014, 25). However, no signs of this island survive today. There was a hermit isle on the River Wye near Winforton in Herefordshire. The hermitage had a chapel dedicated to

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St Kendr located south of the church (in Clay 2014, 25). However, today, the river southeast of Winforton has two islets and it could be possible be that one of these was once the location of the hermitage.

Hermits and Hermitages in Southwest England For much of the early medieval period Dumnonia, principally the Western regions of Devon, Somerset and Cornwall, were very much within the ambit of the ‘Celtic’ west, rather than Anglo-Saxon England. Cornwall’s relative political isolation from Anglo Saxon England and extensive Atlantic coastline and maritime communication links with Wales, Ireland and the continent led to it having a strong tradition and lineage of local saints, missionaries and hermits which underpinned much of its rich religious cul­ ture. Preeminent of these saintly hermits is the 6th-century saint, Samson, who we have already seen was active in Wales, and later Brittany. The ‘Life of Samson’ (Vita Sancti Samsonis), probably written at least a hundred years after the Saint’s death gives some detail of his travels in Cornwall and his foundation of a monastery and hermitage. Samson travelled across the sea from Wales and entered Cornwall probably via the Camel Estuary in the north of the county. He later made his way south across Cornwall, even­ tually leaving for Brittany. Before he departed, the Vita Sancti Samsonis records that Samson lived as a hermit in a cave whilst his followers set up a monastery. Here we are told something about Samson’s cave: ‘For, on a certain day, as he wandered through the forest he found a very spacious and very lonely cave, and its mouth being situated towards the east’ (Vita Sancti Samsonis I: 41). The cave must have had a spring nearby as the Vita re­ counts that at one point Samson ‘became aware of a brisk shower of water, as from a cloud, falling from the stony lintel of the cave’ (Vita Sancti Samsonis I: 51). Several sites have been suggested for Samson’s hermitage in south Devon including Fowey and South Hill, where a late 6th-century stone pillar with an inscription and a carved chi-rho monogram was dis­ covered in the 19th century (Rees 2020, 120). An alternative site is at St Sampson, Golant, overlooking the Fowey estuary. Here, about 2 km from the church is a cave by the river with water trickling down from the vault that may correspond to the spring in Samson’s miracle (Olson 1989, 13–14). The river is tidal at this point and would have served as natural departure point for the continent. Golant presents a convincing possibility. However, since the Vita Sancti Samsonis was written sometime after the actual events it might also be that some artistic licence was applied to the story. Alternatively, as we have seen in Scotland and elsewhere, the cave at Golant may have been a component of a semi-mythical hagiographic landscape that had been created by local monasteries. Other contemporary hermit saints include St Corentin, who is comme­ morated at Cury, on the Lizard peninsula, Cornwall. St Nectan lived a solitary and reclusive existence at Stoke, in the Hartland Forest, Devon.

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Other potential hermitages include Badgworthy on Exmoor, close to the border between Somerset and Devon which is referred to in a 12th-century charter as Terram Heremitarum, which might hint at an earlier use as a hermitage in the pre-Conquest period (Riley and Wilson-North 2001, 100–102). Elsewhere, St Petroc established a coastal monastery at Padstow in north Cornwall and a hermitage nearby at Petherick on a tributary of the Camel, 3 km above Padstow (Olson 1989, 68). Later he left to live in a more remote wilderness, probably at Bodmin (Rees 2020, 202), where he took over the hermitage of a hermit named Guron (Olson 1989, 68). A century earlier the popular Cornish saint, Pirran, founded a hermitage at Perranporth on the north coast of Cornwall. Here on the Penhale Sands about 2 km to the east of Perranporth are the remains of an oratory first recorded in the 16th century. Excavations in the early 20th century revealed an associated cemetery. Today the walls of the oratory stand to a height of around 2 metres although the date is uncertain but likely no earlier than the 8th century, and perhaps as late as the 10th century (Todd 1987, 293). The site was abandoned, probably due to encroaching sands, sometime in the later medieval period. One of the most important monastic centres in the English west country was at Glastonbury in Somerset. Originally a British foundation of the 7th century, and later part of the Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Wessex, it was to become by the later medieval period one of the richest and most influential houses in southern England. Glastonbury Abbey was the focus of a network of early island monasteries in the Somerset marshes. Fourteen possible hermitage sites have been identified in the Somerset Levels (Gilchrist and Green 2015). These hermitages may have been much like those of Guthlac and others in the East Anglia Fens, situated on small islets within marsh­ land. At Glastonbury, these include the Tor, a remarkable and prominent conical hill of Blue Lias and clay, and Beckery, where excavations have revealed an early medieval structure, possibly a chapel. Other associated sites may have included Meare, Godney, Marchey and Nyland (Aston 2000, 100–101; Turner 2006, 146). Excavations at Glastonbury Tor (Figure 8.6) in the 1960s found timber buildings on platforms cut into the rock, the earliest dated to the 5th or 6th centuries (Rahtz 1970, 1993). This site, on the southwest shoulder of the Tor, may represent an early hermitage. The site is just over 1 km from the abbey church and may be ‘reminiscent of the earlier hermitage of St Cuthbert on Inner Farne’ (Turner 2006, 146). Certainly, before centuries of drainage programmes, the Somerset levels would have consisted of marshland, waterways and individual islets, much like the Fens. In this context, the Tor may have represented a visually conspicuous re­ ligious foci in the landscape, possibly for surrounding satellite hermitages. We have seen previously, in both Ireland and Wales for example, that visual networks may have played an important role in the interrelationships be­ tween hermitages and other local eccelesiatical sites. The excavations on the Tor revealed evidence for the remains of timber structures set on platforms

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Figure 8.6 Glastonbury Tor, Somerset (by author).

cut into the rock and included two possible monastic cells. Post-holes for timber uprights of a possible communal building were also recorded, as well as evidence for metal working and imported pottery. Overall, the remains were interpreted as those of a monastic retreat of late Saxon origin which may have continued into the early Norman period (Rahtz 1970, 1993). Many early medieval hermitages such as Glastonbury have been in­ vestigated by archaeological survey and excavations. The location of other potential hermitage sites can be conjectured with a combination of land­ scape observation and documentary research. The names, dates and places of many more hermits are recorded in documentary sources, but in most cases early medieval hermitages, especially those made of less durable ma­ terials like timber, leave no trace archaeologically. Other former hermitages were reestablished and rebuilt as monastic houses and their remains ob­ literated or hidden under buildings, and their landscapes often drastically changed. However, as we enter the later 11th century in England, the sur­ vival of many hermitages becomes comparatively clearer and there is a consequent increase in archaeological examples. Accompanying the ar­ chaeological evidence is a significant amount of supportive documentary and illustrative material such as wall paintings and manuscript illumination. Among these historical documents are a range of mystical texts exploring spiritual exercises, meditations and contemplation that offer a potential insight into the religious life and experience of later medieval monks and hermits. A range of mystical writing became increasingly widespread from the 12th century onwards, first confined to a mainly monastic context, but from the 14th century increasingly with a lay literate arena. Before we ex­ amine the archaeological evidence for late medieval hermitages in Britain it

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will be worth pausing a while and turn our attention to this rich spiritual legacy which may provide some insight into the religious and spiritual life of the late medieval hermit, and the architectural context of their hermitages.

Notes 1 In this light the comparison with Martin’s own temporary withdrawal from his episcopal duties at Tours, noted earlier, is interesting. 2 Four poles equates to around 21 metres in modern measurement.

References Archaeological Project Services (2004) Intervention Report: Assessment of the Archaeological Remains from Evaluation at Anchor Church Field, Crowland. CAC04. Aston, M. (2000) Monasteries in the Landscape. Stroud: The History Press. Blair, J. (2005) The Church in Anglo-Saxon Society. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Britton, J. and Brayley, E. W. (1801) The Beauties of England and Wales; or, Delineations … of Each County, Volume XIII. London: Vernor, Hood and Sharpe. Clay, R. M. (2014) Hermits and Anchorites of England. Edited by P. Campbell. Howell, MI: Cruachan Hill Press. Colgrave, B. (1940) Two Lives of Saint Cuthbert: A Life by an Anonymous Monk of Lindisfarne and Bede’s Prose Life. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Current Archaeology (2022) ‘News: In Search of Guthlac, Crowland’s Early Medieval Hermit’, Current Archaeology, 386. https://archaeology.co.uk/issues/ current‐archaeology‐388‐on‐sale‐now.html accessed 30 October 2022. Erdeswick, S. (1844) A Survey of Staffordshire; Containing the Antiquities of That County. London: J.B. Nichols and Son. Farmer, D. (ed.) and Sherley-Price, L. (trans.) (1990) Bede. Ecclesiastical History of the English People. London: Penguin. Gilchrist, R. and Green, C. (2015) Glastonbury Abbey: Archaeological Excavations 1904–1979. London: Society of Antiquaries. Goodwin, C. W. (1848) The Anglo-Saxon Version of the Life of St. Guthlac. London: J.R.Smith. Linford, N. and Linford, P. (2002) Anchor Church Field, Crowland, Lincolnshire: Report on Geophysical Survey August 2002. Centre for Archaeology Report, 82. Lumley Prior, A. (2008) ‘Fact and/or Folklore? The Case for St Pega of Peakirk’, Northamptonshire Past and Present: Journal of the Northamptonshire Record Society, 61, 7–16. Mathison, P. (2010) The Saint of Spurn Point: Wilgils, Father of St. Willibrord. Nottingham: Dead Good Publications. Meaney, A. (2001) ‘Felix’s Life of St. Guthlac: Hagiography and/or Truth’, Proceedings of the Cambridge Antiquarian Society, 90, 35–36. Middleton, P. (2010) Historic Environment Survey for the National Trust Properties in Northumberland: Farne Islands. Report number 0081/1-10.National Trust. Morris, R. K. (1989) Churches in the Landscape. London: J M Dent/Phoenix Giant. Page, W. (ed). (1906). The Victoria County History: Lincolnshire. Volume 2.

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Olson, L. (1989) Early Monasteries in Cornwall. Boydell Studies in Celtic History, 11, Woodbridge: Boydell Press. Rahtz, P. (1970) ‘Excavations on Glastonbury Tor, Somerset, 1964–6’, The Archaeological Journal, 127, 1–81. Rahtz, P. (1993) Glastonbury. London: Batsford Ltd. Raine, J. (1828) Saint Cuthbert: With an Account of the State in Which His Remains Were Found. Durham: G. Andrews. Rees, E. (2020) Early Christianity in South-West Britain: Wessex, Somerset, Devon, Cornwall and the Channel Islands. Oxford: Oxbow. Riley, H. and Wilson-North, R. (2001) The Field Archaeology of Exmoor. London: English Heritage. Scaife, C. (2019) The Caves of Northumberland. Chester: Sigma Leisure. Staffordshire Historic Environment Record (MonUID) MST1877 HER no: 1885. Taylor, H. M. and Taylor, J. (1965) Anglo-Saxon Architecture, Vol 1. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Todd, M. (1987) The South West to AD 1000. London: Longman. Turner, S. (2006) Making a Christian Landscape: The Countryside in Early-Medieval Cornwall, Devon and Wessex. Exeter: University of Exeter Press. Watt, G. (1951) Farne Islands: Their History and Wildlife. London: Country Life. Yorke, B. (2006) The Conversion of Britain: Religion, Society and Politics 600–800. Harlow: Pearson Longman.

Part III

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The Religious Context of the Medieval Hermitage

The Inner and Outer Life of the Late Medieval Hermit Any study of the hermit life from the 12th century onward can be com­ plemented by a wide range of contemplative and mystical writings, as well as guides and rules which can give a potential insight into the inner experiences of the medieval hermit. The writings of the late medieval English mystics, including such famous examples as Julian of Norwich and Richard Rolle, hint at an inner world and experience that was both rich and liberating. But such texts can also present clues as to the religious use and perceptions of hermitages and their associated spaces. Therefore, before we examine the archaeological evidence for hermitages in later medieval Britain in the next chapter, it will first be helpful to examine aspects of related spiritual life and experience to offer some context. Many hermits had prior religious training, either as monks or priests, and had therefore knowledge of liturgy, a grounding in religious procedures as well as some awareness, if not experience, of contemplative teachings and practices. Evidence for the former presence of altars and niches at several hermitages may testify to the fact that many hermits were priests or canons who were able to celebrate mass. Many hermits would have said prayers at canonical hours, particularly repetitions of the Pater Noster and Ava Maria as well as extra repetitions during Feast days (Davis 1985, 210–211). Hermits were also encouraged to develop self-discipline, self-knowledge and awareness and often many teachings and guidance were practical and personal in nature. Some of this guidance may even appear to be strikingly similar to modern therapeutic techniques found in a clinical context of mindfulness and MSBR with their investigations of present experience. 1 For instance, in his Meditations, written in around 1115, the Carthusian Guigo I offered some advice as to the practice of mindful reflection: ‘There are certain tastes, like that of honey; and there are certain temperaments and passions, like those of the flesh. When these things are either taken away or damaged, notice how this is for you’ (Meditation 87 in Mursell 1989, 257). Before we embark on an analysis of contemplative writings and their implications it will be useful to first address issues surrounding the words DOI: 10.4324/9780429024559-12

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‘mystical’ and ‘spiritual’ which, to some, may be greeted with a degree of scepticism. The contemplative literature of the medieval period points to the fact that many people had liberating insights under the guise of ‘spirituality’ and ‘mysticism’. To many, no doubt such literature may be seen to represent a catalogue of religious delusion, psychopathology and deliberate fraud (Harris 2015, 13). However, is this really the case? Today it is perhaps too simplistic and perhaps even ignorant to simply believe that the numerous mystical accounts and writings of the medieval period were misguided and unreliable. Many cultures throughout history, including in contemporary society, have produced men and women who have had transformative ex­ periences through contemplative exercises and meditation, as well as psy­ chedelics. Many contemporary religious, as well as non-religious writers, can attest to the transformative effects of solitary and silent retreats (i.e. Thorne 2005; Baier 2009; Batchelor 2011; Freeman 2011; Harris 2015). I can also add my voice to this.2 Furthermore, such transformative experiences can happen outside of contemplative contexts and might be triggered, for ex­ ample, by the death of a loved one, a reaction to a beautiful piece of art, a breathtaking landscape or the birth of a child. Religion may offer an ex­ planatory framework or a source of inspiration and religious spaces a creative or aesthetic stimulus, but such transformations are ultimately real, personal and very human experiences. Before we consider the contemplative context of hermitages and hermits, we should first caveat that with an awareness of the potential psychological impact of solitude and isolation that is attested to in modern medical re­ search. The mental health consequences of isolation received little recogni­ tion in medieval sources, which is somewhat understandable. This is not to say that mental ill health did not exist, and certainly some of the recorded ‘visionary experiences’ of many medieval religious may be as much to do with psychology as with spirituality. Recent studies, including those con­ ducted during the COVID-19 pandemic of 2020/21 reveal that the most common psychological disorders of prolonged social isolation are anxiety and panic, obsessive-compulsive symptoms, insomnia, digestive problems, as well as depressive symptoms and post-traumatic stress (Rogers et al. 2020). These are not only a direct consequence of individual isolation but are also a consequence of restricted interactions with other people (Leigh-Hunt et al. 2017). Even short periods of isolation, less than 10 days, have been proven to have long-term psychological effects (Brooks et al. 2020). However, we might argue that in the case of many medieval hermits, their lives were structured within a religious or regulatory framework. In many ways, their lives were ones of hope with a sense of purpose, and ultimately a means to an end. Their lives were generally not enforced3 and this was not a compulsory isolation because of social stigma, loneliness, depression, ill health or, indeed, pandemic. Furthermore, as we shall see, many hermits had frequent communication and interaction with the outside world and many more lived in supportive communities. Some religious were also temporary

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hermits; moving to and from hermitage to church or monastery when re­ quired. Importantly, hermits also had an in-built rationale for the eremitic life which was generally to engage in ascetic or contemplative practice. The religious life of the medieval hermit was essentially a contemplative one. By ‘contemplative’ we mean here activities concerned with private piety or structured introspection within a Christian devotional framework. It was a way of life reinforced by location and isolation, as well as architecture and space, and in certain examples, would have involved specific exercises and practices that both complimented and enhanced the solitary life. Certainly, the interiors of many later medieval cave hermitages, replete with images, iconography and inscriptions point to the importance of devotional setting (Figure 9.1). The eremitic life was also naturally one of physical asceticism and relative isolation. However, ultimately, its overall purpose was to create a specific form of religious life and to support and to animate a spiritual and devotional experience that led to an individual communion, if not unity, with God. That is not to say that all hermits necessarily adopted this way of being and they were, presumably, many deviations from such a path. However, there is much evidence to suggest that some hermits did have mystical ex­ periences. Perhaps one of the most celebrated examples was Richard Rolle of Hampole, who within three years of becoming a hermit had his first mystical experience and ‘foretaste of heaven’ (Maynard Smith 1938, 345). Ultimately such experiences were the raison d’être of the hermit life. The practices

Figure 9.1 Carved Christ on the Cross above natural stone altar/prayer desk, Cratcliffe Hermitage, Derbyshire. Note the niche to the right of the Cross (by author).

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surrounding such experiences involved contemplative and devotional ex­ cercises and rituals that were enacted in the spaces of hermitages. They are therefore central to understanding how the form, architecture and setting of hermitages were perceived and constructed, and how religious experience was articulated within them. Previously, we have considered the archaeological history of the hermi­ tage, as well as specific examples in more detail. We will now set this within its religious and experiential context by exploring the devotional and con­ templative life of the hermit, and the particular significance of the setting and location of medieval hermitages. There also appears that there was a clear relationship, even an emotive connection, between many hermitages and their landscapes. Medieval liturgies involved the senses, through inter­ play with light and dark, images, icons and paintings as well as incense and sound. In this light, and as we have noted previously, the spaces and landscapes of medieval hermitages may have played a similar, perhaps more natural and even intimate, role in evoking the presence of God beyond or within the natural world. Here, rivers, trees, the sounds of the sea and the call of birdsong, as well as caves, wells and shrines, may have played a part in the liturgical and imaginative life of the hermit. From a modern per­ spective, it may be somewhat surprising to acknowledge the existence, sig­ nificance and the varied range of contemplative practices that were known in medieval Christianity. The survival of a remarkable canon of mystical texts attests to both the application of contemplative practices and their contribution to a rich and dynamic religious life which, certainly by the later medieval period, expanded beyond the cloisters into the wider literate society.

Contemplative Texts and Practices In order to facilitate some understanding of the religious life of the hermit we will first have an introduction to a number of contemplative sources from the medieval period. The aim here is not to provide a comprehensive work of medieval theology, or a detailed survey of rulebooks and mystical texts. It is also not to suggest that all hermits were necessarily mystics. Rather it is to consider several key medieval mystical texts in particular, which may give us some insight or background into the religious life of hermits and eremitic communities and how this may relate to the spaces and the form, arrange­ ment and environment of their hermitages. The religious experience of the medieval hermit was naturally grounded in solitude and buttressed by renunciation. But it was also empowered by prayers and contemplative practices of one form or another. This was the way originally set out by the desert fathers and mothers from the very be­ ginning. However, to describe the hermit life as one of ‘contemplation’ or ‘prayer’ without exploring what these mean in practice is to ignore the broader, rich and dynamic life with was the bedrock and the whole rationale

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of the eremitic life. Such prayers and practices, as well as liturgical, devo­ tional observances and day-to-day activities, would have had as their goal the cultivation of profound insight into the empirical nature of God. Such insight would have been personal, intimate and verifiable and not resting wholly on doctrine, logic or theology. Although various liturgies and Eucharistic practices may have supported this experience, and added some ontological context, it was essentially an inner, or contemplative work. The experience itself was authentic and empirical in the sense that it would have brought about a shift in consciousness. In this light such experiences were possibly akin to the awakenings found in Eastern contemplative tra­ ditions, for which there is also some evidence in certain Christian Carthusian contexts (see Walach 2009). In this sense, such experiences were different from traditional cenobitic monasticism which often emphasised ritual and communal activities and practices such as plainchant or plainsong chanting and dedicated masses. The religious experience of the medieval hermit in­ volved practices that were both devotional, imaginative and contemplative and are attested to in a number of important mystical texts of the medieval period. Through considering such writings we may get some insight into the contemplative life of the hermit as it is almost certain that many of the works discussed below were relatively well known to several hermits of the period. Many hermits who had spent time in monasteries would have had practical and directed knowledge of many of these texts and this, together with the increased accessibility of many mystical texts for the laity in the later medieval period, meant that spiritual ideas and practices became more widely established throughout medieval society. Contemplative practice was inherent in the hermit’s religious life from the start. Many of the original practices and mystical experiences of the desert fathers and mothers themselves had been recorded, as well as the life and deeds of the early saints. For example, Evagrius (c. AD 345–399) created extensive collections of the sayings and sentences of the desert fathers and mothers which was intended for memorisation and meditation. More spe­ cifically, Clement of Alexandria (c. AD 150–c. 215) described a method of apophatic meditation, essentially an exercise that involved clearing the mind without the focus of an image or visualisation. Quite where these teachings sprang from is hard to ascertain. However, we have earlier argued for a certain syncretism of religious ideas in the early period of Christianity and certain key practices and concepts including both apophatic and cataphatic meditation is found in other comparative spiritual traditions.4 The early writings of Pseudo-Dionysius ‘the Areopagite’, a Syrian monk of the 5th century, described another apophatic practice and ‘mystical theology’ in which he demanded the abandoning of all thinking, and to ‘rise in darkness of the mind to the ultra-radiance of the One beyond all concepts and words’ (Walach 2009, 210–11). In comparison, Ælred of Rievaulx’s (1109–1166) De Institutione Inclusarum, a key early English work, was specifically concerned with the eremitical life and related religious practices. It outlined a threefold

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cataphatic visualisation meditation which involved a staged meditation on the past, present and future. This included an imaginative contemplation on the Life of Christ and the Passion (Ayton and Barratt 1984). Many contemplative exercises were written within a literate monastic context and concerned knowledge and an understanding of Biblical texts. The Scala Claustralium and Epistola de Vita Contemplativa by the Carthusian abbot Guigo II (1114 to c. 1193) outlined the influential med­ ieval practice of ‘spiritual reading’ or Lectio Divina. However, it also stressed that the deepest level of understanding of the Biblical texts is only achieved by experiencing their mystical sense, via contemplation, and ultimately leading to a direct encounter with God (Baier 2009, 330). The methods applied to reach this state could be quite dramatic. For instance, the early 14thcentury pseudo-Bonaventuran Meditationes Vitae Christi directed one to an imaginative engagement with Biblical texts. It provided a step-by-step realistic narrative with graphic depictions allowing the meditator to involve all the senses in a dramatic visualisation, even an acting out of various Biblical events, particularly concerning the Life of Christ and the Passion. This might have naturally involved the use of postures or gestures, imagined discussions and the fantasising of smells and tastes (Baier 2009, 339). Clearly, in a mon­ astic context, this might have been supported by visual media such as wall paintings, sculpted images and devotional objects. In this light, the presence of liturgical books, objects, lights, carved images and crosses in hermitages may have fulfilled a similar supportive role. This also raises the question as to how hermitage landscapes, including caves and rivers may have equally fulfilled some imaginative function for visualisation in creating virtual Biblical or mythical landscapes. The increased ‘democratisation’ of monastic practices in the later med­ ieval period meant that more people, especially among the laity became aware of contemplative and devotional practices (Baier 2009, 335–336). The development of lay piety and the rise of vernacular literature, including spiritual handbooks (speculum), meant that knowledge and understanding of contemplative and devotional ideas and practices become more wide­ spread. By the later medieval period many works, such as the popular Imitatio Christi, had by adoption become ‘English’ books (Maynard Smith 1938, 352). The 16th-century The Fruyte of Redempcyon was published by Symon Appulby, who was the last anchorite of All Hallows, London Wall. The Fruyte of Redempcyon was a translation of a series of Latin meditations on Christ’s life and its widespread popularity led to it appearing in five editions between 1514 and 1532 (Erler 1998). Such late medieval books as well as guides and handbooks offered up a range of mystical teachings and related practices, often in the form of contemplations and meditations, many with the ultimate purpose of a more intimate, individual and un­ mediated experience of God. In a comparative context, such unitive awareness, may have been akin to the Zen experience of kensho (lit. seeing true nature, essence) (see Walach 2009) and are attested to the lives of many

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important Christian figures including St Francis, St Thomas Aquinas, St Bonaventure and St Catherine of Siena, among others (Walach 2009, 219). It may also best describe comparative mystical insights recorded by English mystics and hermits, such as St Julian of Norwich, Richard Rolle, Walter Hilton and the anonymous author of The Cloud of Unknowing. The non-dual awareness, or loss or self, inferred or reported in many descriptions of mystical experiences is also attested to in another important and influential medieval text, the Ways to Zion Mourn. Written by Hugh of Balma, a Carthusian, or possibly Franciscan, monk, around 1260, the text concerns mystical experience and union with God together with ‘final loss of personal identity or loss of self’ (Walach 2009, 204). Balma’s method involved a simple threefold method of purification (of senses), illumination and union, which was a real union rather than a reflection or an image (Walach 2009, 205). In this light, the eremitic life was naturally suited to private piety, medi­ tation and contemplative practices. Although the use of the word meditation may seem somewhat inappropriate, or anachronistic, and more often as­ sociated with Eastern religions, meditation was in fact a well-documented practice in the medieval period. However, meditation as we might now understand it in the West was more akin to what the Christian mystics termed ‘contemplation’. The ‘meditation’ described in medieval mystical texts was still a spiritual exercise, but it was more of an intellectual practice often involving the imagination. It was often the forerunner to contempla­ tion, which here was more comparable to methods of modern and Eastern meditation and recent contemporary Christian practices such as ‘Centering Prayer’. Contemplation, or contemplative prayer, involved going beyond thought and aimed to achieve unity or communion with God. Such com­ munion might be marked, for example, by expressions of ecstasy, divine love and a sense of non-dual awareness, as described by Hugh of Balma, as well as perhaps a dropping away of the ‘self’ in the unitive space of the Divine. This dynamic and affirming element of devotional piety is also attested to in one of the most important English medieval religious texts, the Revelations of Divine Love, an account of imaginary and intellectual visions by the English anchoress and mystic, Julian of Norwich (1342–1413). Moreover, Julian’s writings express an experience of a God who is compassionate and ultimately benevolent. Similarly, Richard Rolle described his experience as a ‘joyous song’ of God and that he ‘was so full of love that he forgot himself’ (Maynard Smith 1938, 357). One of the earliest Christian writers to provide a systematic description of such contemplative practices was Richard of St Victor (1123–1173) and his teacher Hugh of St Victor (1078–1141). Their influence extended to many contemplative writers including the English mystics Richard Rolle, Walter Hilton and the anonymous author of The Cloud of Unknowing. Richard St Victor explained that humanity was given three different sets of ‘eyes’. Each eye was part of a progressive stage that started with the eye of flesh (or the senses), then the eye of reason (meditation) and concluded with the eye of

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true understanding or contemplation (Zinn 1979; Rohr 2009). The con­ temporary Christian writer and Franciscan, Richard Rohr, further explains that this third eye of contemplation is/was experienced as a moment of deep inner connection and pulls us into the ‘naked’ and undefended ‘now’ (Rohr 2009, 28). In this context, it might be argued that the eremitic life would provide the perfect setting for such subjective and empirical practices. The hermitage would provide an individual space that was often secluded and private, and in the cases of caves - resonant with symbolism. The interiors of hermitages might also have been arranged and enriched with liturgical and devotional paraphernalia that was both evocative and supportive of such contemplative and devotional practices. This experience of a ‘naked now,’ referred to above by Rohr, may in fact be similar to descriptions of ‘blind thought’ or ‘naked feeling’ referred to in the medieval mystical text The Cloud of Unknowing which was written be­ tween 1375 and 1400, probably by a Carthusian author (Baier 2009, 342). The Cloud is an introduction to contemplative prayer written in Middle English. It was therefore potentially accessible to a wider spectrum of the literate laity, and offered both apophatic and cataphatic approaches, and may have been written in response to a growing interest in private religion and contemplative practices within broader society. The text concerns the vita contemplatio and outlines a particular form of prayer which led to a ‘wordless silence filled with the love of God’ (Baier 2009, 345). Inner silence is also supported through mindful attention on single, mainly monosyllabic, words, such as ‘Sin’ or ‘God’, which could also be transitioned into normal daily life (ibid). This would have led to a continuity between formal periods of religious or devotional activity and more ‘normal’ daily life activities. Furthermore, it arguably would have lent an element of mindful attention to the various mundane tasks of the day, thus ‘sacralising’ them, and im­ portantly, by extension the spaces, including outdoors, that they were en­ acted in. Many hermits would have been involved in various physical tasks ‘outside’ of their normal religious observances and duties. Thus like the hermitages themselves, the landscape, setting and the environs of the her­ mitage were also viewed as sacred spaces. They were not only important in preserving a level of isolation but were also an integral component of the overall religious experience of the hermit.

Evocative Spaces: The Landscape and Setting of Medieval Hermitages Many historical studies have tended to focus either on the individual hermit, their biographies and circumstances, or specific hermitages that appear in documentary records. However, such an exclusive focus, albeit under­ standable due to the nature of the historical evidence, does have its obvious limitations in that it pays little attention to the relevance of the locale and landscape of the hermitage and how that may have played an integral role in

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the daily life of the hermit, for example, the presence of vegetable plots, water sources, work areas and outdoor ritual spaces. Apart from their functional use, landscape and environment could have also evoked a par­ ticular spiritual or emotional response, perhaps mediated by natural and elemental aesthetics, or a sense of spaciousness, solitude or ‘otherness’. Here, archaeology has much to offer. This is not just through fieldwork and a consequent primary analysis of the hermitage and its wider landscape, but also through the application of theoretical and contextual approaches to spaces and settings to seek to explain and understand how they were used and ex­ perienced. These approaches, often previously tried and tested in different historical or disciplinary contexts, can shed much light on further aspects of religious practice which may only be hinted at in historical documents. In terms of hermitages, this includes an investigation into areas of light and darkness and internal and external spaces as well as visual relationships in religious settings (ie. Roffey 2018). A more subjective investigation may also reveal the experiential significance of location and environment. In this sense, the siting of hermitages may not just have been concerned with relative iso­ lation but also with a conscious engagement with a symbolic and myth-laden landscape, as well as the mountains, forests, rivers, wilds seas, open skies and subterranea, of their hermitage environment. This may have also involved many of the senses, the sounds, smells and images of the hermit’s world. Since many hermitages were in or around caves, a question may be also asked as to what extent did the hermit engage with the geological landscape. The enclosed dark interiors of caves, replete with an earthy and shadowy dankness might have offered a potent context for religious work. Here, caves may have offered the hermit ‘a unique opportunity where high levels of tranquillity might be found, or perhaps where temptations could be over­ come and saintly qualities developed’ (Hensey 2016, 5). Caves may have also lent themselves readily to both apophatic and cataphatic practices; they offered up both a wordless, imageless darkness as well as spaces charged with mystery and imaginative possibility. The interior of caves would have also suppressed extraneous distraction and facilitated greater focus. As we have seen caves may have had symbolic resonance with the original Tomb of Christ. Caves were also associated with the underworld, Hades, hell or a place of potential demonic conflict. Death also, since most living things, in particular vegetation, stopped at these thresholds (Hensey 2016, 4). The cave as a liminal space between life and death also lent darkness a theatrical power which may have been harnessed in past myths (Davies and Robb 2004) (Figure 9.2). For example, the cave-like structure known as St Patrick’s Purgatory which once existed on one of the pilgrimage islands at Lough Derg, Co. Donegal was renowned for its fear-filled journey into darkness (Dowd 2015). The cave was believed to be an entry point into Purgatory, a ‘place where one could pass through the tortures awaiting one after death, whilst still in this life, and thereafter be granted heavenly visions’ (Hensey 2016, 5). In some instances, cells and oratories, especially at night,

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Figure 9.2 Cave hermitage entrance, Pontefract, North Yorkshire. The interplay between light and dark offered by hermitage caves may have been an important component of private religious experience (by author).

may have held similar associations. Caves and cells were ultimately a component of a wider symbolic mythic world of the hermitage. We have seen this previously with earlier hermitages in the ‘Celtic’ world where there was a clear relationship with the landscape, and it may also have been the case with some of our later medieval British examples. As we have seen above, hermitage environments may have also fulfilled some imaginative setting for visualisation meditation and played some role in the creation of virtual Biblical or mythical landscapes. The relationship between many hermitage sites and their often dramatic and evocative landscapes may be linked to the concept of ‘thin places’ where there was a close connection to nature together with a sense of living on the edge of the world (Walton 2015, 34–35) (Figure 9.3). There was certainly a liminal aspect to many medieval hermitages whether it was coastal, riverine, rock or forest edge. In ‘Celtic’ spirituality, ‘thin places’ were believed to allow spiritual seekers to hear and see God more clearly (Gilchrist 2020, 193–194). Geology and topography was another key factor in the siting of hermitages and early eremitic communities. Rocky outcrops afforded a place of physical withdrawal as well as a certain eminence enhanced by elevation. The isolated existence of the hermit itself evoked a ‘sense of

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9.3 The dramatic and evocative landscape of the River Nidd, Knaresborough, North Yorkshire. Various caves exist in the valley including the one made famous by the 12th-century hermit, Robert of Knaresborough (by author).

alienation and deprivation, of struggle for survival, of being on a dangerous spiritual knife-edge …’ (Dyas 2005, 21). In this sense, it would have paid reverence to St Antony’s legendary experiences on his ‘inner’ and ‘outer’ mountains. On South Peak, Skellig Michael, the small enclosure terrace halfway up the path may have been a contemplation or prayer station (Bourke, Hayden, Lynch and O’Sullivan 2011, 14). Here, the view of the expanse of the sea below would have given a sense that one is virtually suspended in space. Symbolically, such places also represented the desert and the ultimate paradigm of the desert fathers and mothers. The unknown expanse of the sea also provided conceptual spaces in which to locate my­ thical or unknown places. Cuthbert’s decision to shift his Northumbrian hermitage to an island further away from the shore was in part to find a more isolated field for conflict. As we have seen islands and headlands on the larger islands of the Atlantic Archipelago were being sought out in pursuit of a desert (Dumville 2002). The lofty hills, cliffs, dappled forests and broad serpentine rivers of inland Britain could equally be evocative of the desert, replete with myth, legend and resonating with the ‘unknown’. Many unin­ habited holy islands in the pre-Christian period were seen as sacred to gods and consequently they may have been particularly ‘numinous’ (Burn 1969). The founding of monasteries and hermitages in such places would again

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have echoed St Antony’s conflict with demonic forces in the Egyptian de­ serts, and the conscious inhabiting of ruinous pagan temples and mausolea by the early hermits. In this sense, the occupation of former pagan and religious sites would have been seen as essential to the spiritual experience and character of the hermit. Here the use of such places that were associated with ancient events or legends attests to the long-term ‘intrinsic value and potency of place and monuments’ in the ‘psyche’ of people in the medieval period (Semple 2013, 228). The relationship between hermit and environment also had direct and intimate contemplative implications. In early medieval Ireland, Irish monks and hermits ‘sought out places were heaven met earth, so that they might inhabit them and draw on their spiritual aura’ (Bitel 1990, 43). Many her­ mitages were in isolated or secluded locations and the inherent state of ‘aloneness’ engendered by this circumstance may have facilitated a personal religious experience. The medieval German mystic Meister Eckhart referred to this state as Gelassenheit (tranquil submission) wherein ‘detachment is the best of all (virtues), for it purifies the soul and cleanses the conscience’. In this light, withdrawal provided the conditions for non-attachment, both physically and mentally. However, this does not necessarily mean a passive and almost pessimistic experience. Eckhart qualifies the importance of de­ tachment in that it ‘kindles the heart and awakens the spirit and … shows us where God is … and unites us with God’ (Walshe 2009, 575). The ordering and constitution of the outdoor components of many her­ mitages reflected an overall concern with the fostering of a religious ex­ perience. Certainly, many hermitages did not function without wider reference to the world around them, this is perhaps more obvious in the case of seascapes or hilltop locations, but it has been argued that what was visible in the sky by day or night might also relate to the construction and use of material culture in its widest sense (Darvill 2015, 140). Such questions re­ garding the sky and the heavens may seem irrelevant to our modern scien­ tific understanding of the universe, but to medieval societies without insights from such research, these questions were very real (ibid), and often rather significant to their understanding of the sacred world and religious belief. In the case of medieval hermitages, the sky may have represented both an arena for elemental forces and as well as the abode of God and the celestial heavens and the empty vastness of the unknown. The meditation caves that we have discussed previously at Kizil in China often offered exposed views of the sky, as well as the vast expanse of the desert, perhaps as a mnemonic to the key Buddhist concept of shunyata or ‘emptiness’. In the medieval period, the relationship between hermitage and external world can be best illustrated with reference to St Cuthbert’s hermitage on Farne. The 8thcentury Life of Cuthbert tells us much about the events and circumstances surrounding the life of the Northumbrian saint. As we have seen it also documented some useful detail regarding the hermitage itself, in that it was round in plan and enclosed by a wall ‘higher than a man standing upright’.

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However, the Life also remarked that the wall had a particular purpose in that ‘the pious inhabitant could see nothing except the sky from his dwelling, thus restraining both the lust of the eyes and of the thoughts and lifting the whole bent of his mind to higher things’ (Colgrave 1940, 217). This statement is significant and provides us with a rare insight into how the structure of the hermitage and its environment was organised to promote a particular experience. In this context, the circular wall had the functional purpose of defining the spiritus loci of the hermitage and prevented external distractions and consequently encouraged a certain state of mindful aware­ ness. However, it also framed and drew specific attention to the sky. The arrangement of Cuthbert’s hermitage where he could see ‘nothing except the sky’ demonstrated the relationship between hermit, hermitage and the natural surroundings. Centuries later, this aspect would be celebrated by the 11thcentury monk Goscelin of St Bertin in his letter to the anchorite Eve of Wilton. Here he exclaimed that ‘my cell is so narrow, you may say, but oh, how wide is the sky!’ (Burnett McInerney 2013, 164).

Visual Networks and Landscape Monasteries and hermitages were components of a broader religious land­ scape that was linked not just by physical means, such as sea routes, paths and roadways but also in some cases by visual networks. There is some evidence for visual associations between religious sites often involving the facilitation of lines of sight. This mutual visibility, often between isolated hermitages and monasteries may have fulfilled several functions. When re­ quired, visual networks would have aided communication- perhaps by sig­ nals or beacons. For the more isolated hermitages, a view of a local church or monastery may have afforded some physical comfort or fellowship. In a liturgical context, visual networks allowed for some form of visual ‘com­ munion’ between religious buildings during Eucharistic practice or the re­ ligious hours of the day. The prominent location of some hermitages may have afforded a view of other religious institutions in the landscape. For example, the small chapel hermitage on St Catherine’s Hill, Winchester, Hampshire, had a clear unobstructed view of both the Cathedral and the medieval hospital of St Cross below. The religious community on the Tor at Glastonbury would have had a commanding view across the Somerset levels and the various satellite hermitages, churches and monastic houses. Similarly, at Burry Holms, the hermitage was attached to the Priory of Llangennith on the mainland, where a 12th-century church remains today. In the medieval period, the oratory on Burry Holms had a small south window which was deliberately skewed or angled to give a direct view from the oratory altar to the church across the narrow strait. Along the coast of Kerry in Ireland, there were clear visual relationships between many small hermitages and the island monastery on Skellig Michael, including at Killabuonia where a location on the ridge of a hill gave a direct view of the

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Skellig Islands across the sea (Figure 6.7). Naturally, such a location may have been coincidental. However, if this was a conscious arrangement then any religious activities carried out in the precinct, including around the outdoor shrine, would have had the Skelligs as a backdrop. The visual and spatial relationships between hermitages and related re­ ligious institutions is not just limited to landscapes, hills and coastlines. A spatial network of hermitages has also been noted in some medieval urban areas, where anchorites and hermits resided around urban churches or in city walls and former bastions. In the case of London, the presence of hermits and anchorites on the edge of town performed an important function in offering a continual ‘enclosing ring of prayer’ (Dowding 2016, 52). In this context, it has been suggested that the presence of hermitages and anchorages in some way brought ‘solitude into the busyness of the city’. (Dowding 2016, 54). But they also must have been viewed as offering a protective spiritual presence on the boundaries and entrances of medieval towns.

Practicalities of the Hermit Life In addition to works exploring and journaling devotional and contemplative practices, there existed a number of rules and guidebooks that were con­ cerned with the more regular aspects of eremitic life. Moreover, there were also a small number of late medieval hermit ‘hagiographies’ that offered contemporary models for the hermit life and included those of Wulfric of Haselbury (d. 1154), Christina of Markyate (d. 1155/66), Godric of Finchale (d. 1170), Bartholomew of Farne (d. 1193), and Robert of Knaresborough (d. 1218) (Holdsworth 1990, 57). Records and references to hermits could also be found in a range of medieval sources including ecclesiastical doc­ umentation, such as episcopal registers, and secular accounts, including civic records, taxation documents and land grants. However, it is perhaps the surviving guidebooks and rules that offer a more practical insight into the day-to-day life of the late medieval hermit and the wider archaeological context of their hermitages. Several important Rules for hermits survive in various forms including elements of St Paul’s Rule and the modified St Augustine’s Rule for hermits. There are a range of existing medieval English anchoritic guidance texts including the well-known Ancrene Riwle (a rule book for anchoresses written in the 13th century) and Aelred of Rievaulx’s De Institutis Inclusarum or Rule for a Recluse, written around 1158–1160. Later examples include the mid-14th-century Latin text Speculum Inclusorum and its subsequent English translation Myrour of Recluses. There are collections of more personal writings and mystical works, as discussed previously. In terms of the ar­ chaeology, this range of historical sources can give useful incidental and contextual detail which can help with the identification and locating of some hermit sites, as well as some information about the hermitages themselves. Some documents also provide helpful information on the life and social

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responsibilities of medieval hermits. For example, references to hermits being responsible for the care and repair of bridges are numerous. In comparison, references to alms and begging are relatively few, but work and references to physical labour was a major theme in the 15th- and 16thcentury Rule of St Paul; a ‘rudimentary and unsophisticated rule’ but one that many hermits may have followed (Davis 1985, 212). Considering this, spaces for agricultural use, gardens and shelters for tools, animals or wood might have been a factor in the function of hermitages, as well as proximity to rivers and bridges. The Rule of St Paul presented a ‘utilitarian form of eremitic living’ and promoted living an ’unenclosed solitary existence which aimed to perform useful tasks’ (Gilchrist 1995, 161). Clearly, this points to an element of social interaction and responsibility. As we have seen, this included a range of public and civic duties, such as ferryman, bridge-keepers and guides, as well as ‘spiritual’ responsibilities such as celebrating mass, hearing confession and spiritual guidance. It is also notable that many hermitages and eremitic communities were close to main roads and towns, and this may point to the socio-economic relationship between hermits and urban centres, as well as concerns with patronage and alms-provision. Several hermitages were located along the Derbyshire Portway, for example, which ran from the north of Derbyshire to the edge of Nottingham, in­ cluding Lenton and Sneinton, Nottinghamshire and Dale and Cratcliffe in Derbyshire. In this context, the hermits may have acted as guides or as ‘information points’ for local amenities or religious sites. As well as the practical, regulatory and devotional aspects of eremitic practice, personal issues such as dress and diet were of some consequence, especially in the context of asceticism, renunciation and religious discipline. However, it will come as no surprise however that there is very little archaeological evidence for the clothing and diet of medieval hermits. This has much to do with the survival of such materials rather than their historical absence. Fortunately, there are a number of incidental references in documentary and illustrative sources which can provide some details which are helpful to our broader understanding of medieval hermits and hermitages.

Dress and Appearance The hermitage is defined as a specific place or space that was directly con­ cerned with facilitating and supporting a life dedicated to a personal re­ ligious experience, whether it was in an individual or communal context. As such, a hermitage naturally needed to provide the necessities for life, shelter, access to provisions or productive land or resources. Simplicity and re­ nunciation were the ideals that underpinned the religious life of the hermit and aspects of this would naturally include dress and diet since these were also expressions of such ideals. In more personal terms, there were also regulations concerning clothing and diet, for example, and in certain in­ stances, a period of abstinence on Fridays, where the hermit might only have

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bread and water. Such simplicity of life and living might equally be reflected in the sparsity of the hermitage as well as the relative isolation of its loca­ tion. The hermit’s life was a modest one and we would therefore expect many sites to leave very little in terms of material goods or personal objects. In this light, it is necessary to look to other sources for some insight. The manner of dress would have been important, both to outwardly demon­ strate, and even identify, the hermit and his vocation, and as a reflection of the inner journey. Clothing would have been plain but practical, providing little in ostentation but sufficient to cope with the often intemperate en­ vironments of the British winter. Many early medieval hermits such as Herbert and Cuthbert would have presumably worn their religious habits. However, by the later medieval period, the various Rules stipulated that the hermit should dress according to the bishop’s ordinance and, to avoid confusion, that their clothing should not resemble that of a particular re­ ligious order, yet is should also be simple and humble. The Rule of St Paul included regulations on clothing, diet and physical labour and shoes of ‘sandal type’ (Davis 1985, 11). As well as the wearing of plain shoes some hermits may have been barefoot and would wear a coat or kirtle tied by a simple cord (Clay 2014, 151). There is no way of knowing to what extent such rules were adhered to, particularly since the rationale behind the hermit life was, in many ways, a reaction to institutionalised religion and its norms. We can, however, perhaps draw some further insight from contemporary depic­ tions of hermits in manuscripts and wall paintings, but again we should be cautious as to what extent they present a romanticised vision of the idealised hermit, rather than the reality. Wall paintings of hermits are comparatively rare but, where found, often accompanied scenes celebrating the Life of St Christopher who was baptised by a hermit. Good examples include depictions of hermits with beards and in a hooded robe at St Mary’s, Lydiard Tregoze, Wiltshire, where a painting of a hermit is over a niche which once held a statue of St Christopher, and at St Peter and Paul’s, Pickering, North Yorkshire. At St Hubert’s Church, Idsworth, Hampshire, a 14th-century wall painting of the life of St John the Baptist features a ‘hairy hermit’, a recluse who according to legend walked on all fours and lived wild (hence the hair) in penance for the sins of unchastity and murder (Figure 9.4). Some depictions of hermits can also be found in medieval manuscripts where they often feature in borders or in scenes of medieval life. The 15thcentury Book of the Order of Chivalry features a hermit instructing a squire. He is barefooted and robed. The image of the barefooted hermit in a plain hooded robe is standard in medieval depictions and other examples include a border detail from the Hours of Henry VIII (PML H.8, fol. 187v) (c. 1500), and The Queen Mary Psalter (British Library Royal 2 B VII, fol. 209r) (1310–1320). The Smithfield Decretals (Royal 10 E IV) (c.1300–1340) present a particularly engaging set of pictorial descriptions. The Decretals were probably copied in France but included extraordinary marginal illuminations

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Figure 9.4 ‘The Hairy Hermit’. Detail from 14th-century wall painting from St Hubert’s Church, Idsworth, Hampshire (by author).

with around 28 scenes featuring hermits, which were later commissioned in London and added by local artists (British Library). One scene shows a bearded hermit sitting in a cave whilst another depicts a hooded hermit with staff confronting a devil outside what appears to be a roofed structure. There is a further scene featuring a man delivering letters to a robed and bearded hermit in a cave (Figure 9.5). Another feature of popular depictions of medieval male hermits that is often overlooked is facial hair. Much like the cowl or hooded robe, the beard (often grey) may be largely emblematic of the ‘holy ascetic’ but may also have represented the fact that many hermits simply did not shave and was thus a consequence of a renunciate life. Beards feature in a positive light throughout the Bible as well as in early Christian texts, including Clement of Alexandria who claimed that the beard is older than Eve, and is a ‘token of the superior nature’ (Paedagogus 3.3). In the 6th century, Cassiodorus wrote that a good man is ‘made reverend by a long beard’ (De Anima 2.13). The hermit’s ‘shaggy’ appearance might also be seen to have been an expression of ‘social peripherality’ (Douglas 1970, 60–61). It may have also been a way of physically expressing an ascetic life that was visibly against the norm yet was legitimised by earlier Christian tradition.

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Figure 9.5 Man bringing a letter to a hermit in a cave from the Smithfield Decretals (Royal 10 E IV), c. 1300–1340 (British Library).

Diet Food and diet would have naturally played a key part in the life of the hermit, both in terms of sustenance and also of ascetic practice and dis­ cipline. Throughout the medieval period, many hermits chose a diet of uncooked foods, gathered wild foods and cultivated their own vegetables in small plots. Again, this is much in keeping with the early tradition but perhaps was also linked more closely to renunciation with the deprivation of the body seen as a particular facet of ascetic practice. Some hermits existed on alms, which was both practical and renunciate, and many doubtlessly also purchased provisions from local sources. Higher-status hermits would have presumably had access to a more quality diet if they required it. Early sources for the desert fathers and mothers such as the Apophthegmata Patrum, give us some insight into the monastic diet of the time such as the consumption of partly cooked lentils. St Jerome’s Life of Hilarion noted that this was his subject’s diet for three years. In a British context cereals and pulses like barley and peas would have perhaps fulfilled a similar function. Although dietary practices, particularly abstinence from flesh, are later emblematic of their subjects (Jotischky 2011, 779), it does seem that overall, a simple diet was generally preferred and this would certainly fit with the ascetic character of the hermitages themselves. The Rule of St Paul advocated a simple diet and to abstain from meat on Wednesdays. On Fridays, there was

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to be only bread and water (Davis 1985, 211). Some hermits may have naturally taken this to the extreme or even experimented with fasting and different dietary forms. The early-12th-century hermit Godric of Finchale would apparently often leave his food until it was mouldy and he ate bread in which the grain had been mixed with cinders (Holdsworth 1990, 68). In terms of the archaeological evidence little survives directly for the preparation or production of food, except the evidence for the domestic buildings at the hermitage at Warkworth, Northumberland.5 However, there is archaeological evidence for possible timber lean-tos from the her­ mitages at Bridgnorth, Shropshire; Redstone, Worcestershire and Cratcliffe, Derbyshire (Figure 9.6). These are in the form of small post-holes which were cut into the rock outside the caves in order to insert and tie timber frames or roof timbers. These may be indicative of small structures such as sheltered spaces for the storage of provisions, animals or agricultural tools. At Redstone one small cave has evidence for several former structural features including a rear recess and small post-holes which may suggest the former presence of a raised floor or a structure, or possibly an elevated platform for storage (Figure 9.7). We also know that many hermits, such as Cuthbert and Robert of Knaresborough had some land in which they could grow food. Gifts of land to hermits, such as Robert, may imply that this was to be cul­ tivated on behalf of the hermit, or it is possible that in some cases the hermit worked the land themselves. The value of manual labour was exhorted by the Rule of St Benedict and therefore work may have been viewed by some as essential to religious practice. Godric of Finchale planted a vegetable garden near his hermitage in County Durham. His food is described as a stew of

Figure 9.6 Post holes on the cave wall of the hermitage at Bridgnorth, Shropshire. This may present evidence for a former structure attached to the outside of the cave (by author).

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Figure 9.7 Redstone, Worcestershire. Note evidence for a rear recess and small holes which may suggest the former presence of an elevated platform (by author).

vegetables he had grown himself, together with wild grasses and herbs. Typically, he cooked up large batches of this and kept it for several days, eating a portion of it every evening (Jotischky 2011, 96). Many hermitages were situated close to coasts and rivers, and this may also have been a source of food with fish being a permitted foodstuff in most religious contexts. Fundamentally, the motivation behind the hermitage was the provision of a discrete or secluded space conducive to religious practice that gave shelter and supported a life of contemplation and prayer. But also, the setting and location of hermitages offered broader spaces for inspiration and opportu­ nities to engage with a God that might be seen to dynamically manifest, or be actively present, through the natural and elemental world. Having dis­ cussed the practical, religious and contemplative context of the medieval hermitage we will now continue with an archaeological history of hermitages with a focus on the rich archaeological evidence for the hermitages of later medieval England.

Notes 1 Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction. 2 I have been attending regular solitary and silent retreats for over 30 years often spending between 8 and 12 hours a day in silent meditation. 3 Although many anchorites were under obligation or regulation to remain en­ closed. However, this was a choice. Many also had servants and would have certainly had regular communication with priests and perhaps other members of the parish.

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4 Apophatic stresses interiority, imagelessness and going beyond words. Cataphatic is image driven using visualisations and imagination as well as analogies. 5 Cooking facilities existed for some anchorite cells, such as the kitchen/pantry at the Anker’s House, Chester-le-Street, Co Durham.

References Ayton, J. and Barratt, A. (eds.) (1984) Aelred of Rievaulx’s ‘De Institutione Inclusarum’: Two English Versions. Early English Text Society Original Series, 287. Baier, K. (2009) ‘Meditation and Contemplation in High to Late Medieval Europe’, in E. Franco and D. Eigner (eds.), Yogic Perception, Meditation and Altered States of Consciousness. Wien: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 319–346. Batchelor, S. (2011) Confessions of a Buddhist Atheist. London: Random House. Bitel, L. M. (1990) Isle of the Saints: Monastic Settlement and Christian Community in Early Ireland. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press. Bourke, E., Hayden, A., Lynch, A. and O’Sullivan, M. (2011) Skellig Michael, Co. Kerry: The Monastery and South Peak: Archaeological Stratigraphic Report: Excavations 1986–2010. Dublin: Department of Culture, Heritage and the Gaeltacht. British Library. Hours of Henry VIII (PML H.8, fol. 187v); The Queen Mary Psalter (British Library Royal 2 B VII, fol. 209r) and The Smithfield Decretals (Royal 10 E IV). Brooks, S. K., Webster, R. K., Smith, L. E., Woodland, L., Wessely, S. and Greenberg, N. (2020) ‘The Psychological Impact of Quarantine and How to Reduce it: Rapid Review of the Evidence’, Lancet, 395, 912–920. 10.1016/S0140-6736(20)30460-8 Burn, A. R. (1969) ‘Holy Men on Islands in Pre-Christian Britain’, Glasgow Archaeological Journal, 1, 2–6. Burnett McInerney, M. (2013) ‘“In The Meydens Womb”: Julian of Norwich and the Poetics of Enclosure’, in J. C. Parsons and B. Wheeler (eds.), Medieval Mothering. London: Routledge, 157–182. Clay, R. M. (2014) in P. Campbell (ed.), Hermits and Anchorites of England. Howell, MI: Cruachan Hill Press. Colgrave, B. (1940) Two Lives of Saint Cuthbert: A Life by an Anonymous Monk of Lindisfarne and Bede’s Prose Life. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Darvill, T. (2015) ‘Afterword: Dances Beneath a Diamond Sky’, in F. Silva and N. Campion (eds.), Skyscapes: The Role and Importance of the Sky in Archaeology. Oxford: Oxbow, 140–148. Davies, P. and Robb, J. (2004) ‘Scratches in the Earth: The Underworld as a Theme in British Prehistory, with Particular Reference to the Neolithic and Earlier Bronze Age’, Landscape Research, 29 (2), 141–151. Davis, V. (1985) ‘The Rule of St Paul, the First Hermit, in Late Medieval England’, in J. Shiels (ed.), Monks, Hermits and the Ascetic Tradition, Studies in Church History, 22, 203–214. Douglas, M. (1970) Natural Symbols: Explorations in Cosmology. London: Routledge. Dowd, M. (2015) The Archaeology of Caves in Ireland. Oxford: Oxbow. Dowding, C. M. (2016) ‘“A Certain Tourelle on London Wall … Was Granted … for Him to Inhabit the Same”: London Anchorites and the City Wall’, Journal of Medieval Religious Cultures, 42, (1), 44–55.

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Dumville, D. (2002) ‘The North Atlantic Monastic Thalassocracy: Sailing to the Desert in Early Medieval Insular Spirituality’, in B. E. Crawford (ed.), The Papar in the North Atlantic: Environment and History. The Committee for Dark Age Studies. St. Andrews: University of St. Andrews, 121–131. Dyas, D. (2005) ‘“ Wildernesse is Anlich Lif of Ancre Wununge”: The Wilderness and Medieval Anchoritic Spirituality’, in D. Dyas, V. Edden and R. Ellis (eds.), Approaching Medieval English Anchoritic and Mystical Texts. (Christianity and Culture. Issues in Teaching and Research), Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 19–34. Erler, M. C. (1998) ‘A London Anchorite, Simon Appulby: His Fruyte of Redempcyon and its Milieu’, Viator Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 29, 227–240. Freeman, L. (2011) ‘Introduction’, in R. Williams (ed.), Silence and Honey Cakes: The Wisdom of the Desert. Electronic Edition. Oxford: Lion Books, 7–14. Gilchrist, R. (1995) Contemplation and Action: The Other Monasticism. Leicester: Leicester University Press. Gilchrist, R. (2020) Sacred Heritage: Monastic Archaeology, Identities, Beliefs. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Grant, P. (1985) Dazzling Darkness: An Anthology of Western Mysticism. Grand Rapids, Michigan MI: William. B. Eerdmans Publishing Company. Harris, S. (2015) Waking Up: A Guide to Spirituality Without Religion. London: Bantam Press. Hensey, R. (2016) ‘Past Dark: A Short Introduction to the Human Relationship with Darkness’, in M. Dowd and R. Hensey (eds.), The Archaeology of Darkness. Oxford: Oxbow, 1–10. Holdsworth, C. (1990) ‘Hermits and the Power of the Frontier’, Reading Medieval Studies, 16, 55–76. Jotischky, A. (2011) A Hermit’s Cookbook: Monks, Food and Fasting in the Middle Ages. London: Continuum. Leigh-Hunt, N., Bagguley, D., Bash, K., Turner, V., Turnbull, S., and Valtorta, N. (2017) ‘An Overview of Systematic Reviews on the Public Health Consequences of Social Isolation and Loneliness’, Public Health, 152, 157–171. doi: 10.1016/ j.puhe.2017.07.035 Maynard Smith, H. (1938) Pre-Reformation England. London: Macmillan. Mursell, G. (1989) ‘Traditions of Spiritual Guidance: The Carthusians’ in The Way, 29/3, 255–262. Roffey, S. (2018) ‘The Medieval Afterlife’, in C. Gerrard and A. Gutierrez (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Later Medieval Archaeology. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 868–888 Rogers, J. P., Chesney, E., Oliver, D., Pollak, T. A., McGuire, P., Fusar-Poli, P., et al. (2020) ‘Psychiatric and Neuropsychiatric Presentations Associated with Severe Coronavirus Infections: A Systematic Review and Meta-Analysis with Comparison to the COVID-19 Pandemic’, Lancet Psychiatry, 7, 611–627. 10.1016/S2215-0366(20)30203-0 Rohr, R. (2009) The Naked Now: Learning to See as the Mystics See. New York: The Crossroad Publishing Company. Semple, S. (2013) Perceptions of the Prehistoric in Anglo-Saxon England: Religion, Ritual and Rulership in the Landscape. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Thorne, D. (2005) Sphurana: The Yoga Practice of Atma Vichara, its Context and Method, Somerset: Yoga Living Press.

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Walach, H. (2009) ‘A Medieval Carthusian Monk’s Recipe to Multiple Kensho: Hugh of Balma’s Approach to Mystical Union and Some Striking Similarities to Modern Zen Teaching’, Studies in Spirituality, 19, 199–225. Walshe, M. O’C. (2009) The Complete Mystical Works of Meister Eckhart. New York: Crossroad Publications. Walton, H. (2015) ‘Theological Perspectives on Christian Pilgrimage’, in A. Maddrell, V. della Dora, A. Scafi and H. Walton (eds.), Christian Pilgrimage, Landscape and Heritage: Journeying to the Sacred. London: Routledge, 22–42. Zinn, G. (trans.) (1979) Richard of St. Victor, De Sacramentis and The Mystical Ark. Classics of Western Spirituality. New York: Paulist Press.

10 Hermitages and Hermits in Late Medieval England

Background From the later 11th century onwards the popularity of the hermit life appears to have increased considerably, and it is claimed that England itself had more hermits than any other European country apart perhaps from Italy (Holdsworth 1990, 57). Similarly, the number of documentary sources for hermits is increasingly prevalent for the later medieval period, and it is perhaps no coincidence that many of the medieval hermit texts and hagiographies, discussed previously, were written at this time. However, the apparent growth of recorded hermits in the later medieval period may simply reflect the relative survival of documentary records, increasingly ubiquitous from the later 12th century onwards, which might give the impression that there were compara­ tively more hermits (Licence 2007, 222). Nonetheless, the period is also ac­ companied by an increased visibility of archaeological evidence for hermitages. It was also this period that witnessed the introduction of anchorites and ere­ mitic monastic orders, particularly in the form of the Carthusian Order. In Britain, the so-called ‘monastic revolution’, which followed on from the Norman Conquest of 1066 acted as a catalyst for the introduction of new religious orders from the continent, as well as a wider reform of the church. These inevitably led to the recasting of the eremitic model and the character of the late medieval hermit. More lay people took up the eremitic life and many hermits also had closer social ties and even a level of civic responsi­ bility. The increased popularity of the hermit life from the 11th and 12th centuries was partly due to the fact that many monks left their monasteries to found hermitages (Gilchrist 1995, 158). This included the famous 12thcentury hermit and former Cistercian monk, Robert Flower, who later be­ came the hermit St Robert of Knaresborough (d. 1218). However, in other instances, a new type of hermit emerged, often drawn from the lower classes, as well as others who had not been monks at all or had found monastic life unsuitable to their spiritual aspirations. This latter class included such re­ latively famous 12th-century hermits as Wulfric of Haslebury, Christina of Markyate and Godric of Finchale, who began life outside of monastic structures and only later forming relationships with religious communities. DOI: 10.4324/9780429024559-13

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The later medieval period also witnessed a refining of the ideal of the monastic hermit and the creation of formal communities of hermits in a monastic context. In Scotland, for example, by 1200, the diverse forms of eremitic monasticism, discussed earlier, had been replaced by liturgical uniformity and the Benedictine model of communal monasticism (Gilchrist 2020, 58). Many former hermitages were later converted to Augustinian priories. Eleven English priories had their origins in former hermitages in­ cluding Nostell Priory, West Yorkshire, and Dale Abbey, Derbyshire, which replaced the former Deepdale hermitage in the 13th century (Herbert 1985, 132), and where significant archaeological remains survive.

Late Medieval Cave Hermitages There is a reference to the Deepdale hermitage in the medieval chronicle of Dale Abbey which recorded that in 1130 a retired baker moved to ‘a marsh, exceedingly dreadful, and far distant from every habitation of man …. under the side of the mountain, he cut out for himself in the rock a very small dwelling, and an altar turned to the south which has been preserved to this day’ (Hope 1883, 18). Today, behind the parish church is an area of woodland where there is a cave cut into the sandstone cliff. The cave comprises two chambers, one a probable oratory with evidence for a niche, while the other chamber probably served as accommodation. Postholes on the outer face of the hermitage suggest a former lean-to-structure which may have been for firewood, supplies or animals. The Deepdale hermitage is one of a number of late medieval cave hermitages found in England in areas that had suitable geology. The relatively soft and workable sandstone geology of the northeast and the midlands of England was particularly appropriate for the establishment of cave hermitages. In some cases, sites might have been selected due to preexisting geological features such as faults, grottoes or sheltered overhangs as at Cratcliffe, and probably Ingleby, Derbyshire, Redstone in Worcestershire and Bridgnorth in Shropshire. In other ex­ amples, there is little evidence for eremitic use apart from traditional asso­ ciations. Southstone Rock, Worcestershire, is traditionally held to be the site of a former chapel and hermitage, although any traces of these are long gone. The so-called Anchor Church at Ingleby, associated by tradition as a hermitage, was cut into a sandstone outcrop once close to the edge of the River Trent. The cave was probably formed originally by river erosion, which today still affects the structural integrity of the caves. The Anchor Church may have been adapted to serve as a hermitage, possibly for St Modwen (Clay 2014 47). Recent research has conjectured that the cave may have also been used by a deposed Anglo-Saxon king, later canonised as St Hardulph and may date to as early as the 8th century (Simons 2021). Over the years the caves at Ingleby have been extended through human intervention including the insertion of windows and doors, some of which might have been the result of renova­ tions and the occasional use of the cave as a picnic site in the 18th century.

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Figure 10.1 Cratcliffe Rocks, Derbyshire (by author).

The Anchor Church would certainly be a suitable candidate for a former hermitage, although its proximity to the river floodplain may not have allowed for any permanent use and even today the cave is often inaccessible due to flooding. Other hermitage sites made use of rocky outcrops and cliffs. At Cratcliffe, an exposed rocky outcrop formed a prominent feature in the landscape (Figure 10.1). The hermitage is situated about halfway up the out­ crop on a flat terrace and was formed of a small cave protected by a prominent rocky overhang. The interior of the cave has the remains of a natural stone altar and a carved Christ on a Cross. Outside there is evidence for stone seating as well as traces of a roof line suggesting a former exterior lean-to. The line runs along the whole length of the cave and may represent either a formerly covered terrace or more likely a timber structure, perhaps used for accom­ modation or food preparation (Figure 10.2). The presence of auxiliary structures attached to cave hermitages, as at Cratcliffe, is reasonably common and may follow the traditional bipartite division of hermitages into oratory/chapel and accommodation. If this is the case, then it is significant that the cave appeared to have functioned as the oratory and may further suggest some ritual or symbolic function attached to it. At Redstone, a number of eroded caves are situated along the face of a cliff bordering the River Severn. The presence of post-holes along the cliff face indicates formerly associated structures which, due to the height of the caves, might represent stairs, walkways or terraces (Figure 10.3). Few of these hermitages had any extensive documentary records in which to further support these interpretations. However, one example that is accompanied by comparative documentary evidence is the hermitage of Robert Flower in Knaresborough, North Yorkshire.

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Figure 10.2 Cratcliffe hermitage (by author).

Figure 10.3 Hermitages at Redstone, Worcestershire. Evidence for post-holes sug­ gests the former presence of stairs or galleries (by author).

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St Robert of Knaresborough, or Robert Flower (c. 1160–1218), was a former monk of the Cistercian order and was regarded by the medieval chronicler Matthew Paris as one of the outstanding saints of the early 13th century (Farmer 1982). It was perhaps this reputation that prompted a visit by King John in 1216 who subsequently gifted Robert some land (Bottomley 1993). The Life of St Robert recorded that his brother arranged for masons from York to build a chapel for the hermitage and when Robert died in 1218, he was reportedly buried in a grave near the chapel altar (Figure 10.6). However, by 1250 his body was removed to the Trinitarian Friary founded nearby. Robert’s hermitage might have started life as a simple cave, but by the end of his life it was more extensive with cave, accommodation and masonry chapel as well as significant land holdings. In 1989 the Harrogate Museums Service carried out clearance and small-scale excavations at the site of the Knaresborough hermitage and today the cave and evidence for some associated structures can be seen. The hermitage sat on a small terrace on the bank of the River Nidd (Figure 10.4). Outside, and adjacent to the cave, the remains of a revetment wall, drain and stone bench suggest the presence of the former accommodation structure (Figure 10.5). The rebated recess around the cave door may have been cut specifically to join the accom­ modation to the cave. To the east of this are the stone foundations of the chapel, with an altar base, in front of which is the grave. Overall, it is possible that the cave and accommodation pre-dates the construction of the chapel.

Figure 10.4 Cave hermitage of St Robert, Knaresborough, North Yorkshire (by author).

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Figure 10.5 Knaresborough, showing bench and recess as evidence for a former structure (by author).

Figure 10.6 Foundations of hermitage chapel, Knaresborough. Note the presence of a grave which would have been close to the site of the chapel altar (by author).

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The cave itself has a roughly cut doorway set within an recess which accessed a small cell. Inside there is little internal decoration apart from a possible medieval inscribed cross, niches and a stone bench. Tool marks inside the cave show that at least part of it was hewn or shaped from the rock (Figure 10.7). Despite the presence of a masonry chapel, it may in fact have been the cave that represented the spiritual and symbolic heart of the hermitage, at least at the beginning. The altar and niches suggest that at some point it may have served as the hermit’s personal oratory, a dark and evocative space for reflection, perhaps. In this light, the cave may have symbolised, architecturally, the ideal of the quintessential hermitage, again harking back to long Christian tradition. Cave hermitages were a common and often visible feature of the English later medieval religious landscape. And although many still survive, such as at Deepdale, Cratcliffe, Redstone and Knaresborough, many have since been lost, either through erosion, neglect or destruction. This is particularly the case with coastal cave hermitages which have unsurprisingly been drastically af­ fected by coastal erosion. On Ghyston Cliff, Clifton, Bristol, fragmentary remains survive of the medieval hermitage chapel of St Vincent. In 1492 an episcopal brief offered an indulgence to anyone who would contribute to its ‘preservation’. The reference to ‘the hermitage and chapel’ may suggest the former existence of a separate oratory which may have been situated on a limestone ledge and has since eroded or fallen away (Clay 2014, 71). The ‘hermits hole’ once in Culver Cliff, Isle of Wight, may represent a similar cliff

Figure 10.7 The interior of the cave hermitage at Knaresborough. Note evidence for tool marks on the cave wall (by author).

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hermitage. Remains of this cave can be found about 10 metres below the cliff’s summit and penetrate the rock by about 8 metres. However, there is no direct evidence for its being used by a hermit, although it is only 5 km south of the former Cluniac priory at St Helens (founded c. 1080). Many hermitages were located in town suburbs, and they have conse­ quently been subject to later suburban development and expansion. Many of these are now lost as a result. However, this does not necessarily mean that they are lost forever. In October 1854, a workman carrying out the ground­ work for a new sewer in Pontefract tumbled through a large cavity into an underground chamber. Fortuitously this chamber was in fact a medieval oratory, with an associated hermitage, which had remained hidden since the Dissolution over 300 years before (Figure 10.8). Twenty-five years later in 1880, the Pontefract Dispensary was constructed over the site of the former hermitage and since then the entrance to it has been concealed in the basement of what is today a derelict building. Secreted away in the underground basement of the disused dispensary building it is hard now to get a sense of what the hermitage might have once looked like from the outside. However, much of the hermitage itself remains intact and enough remains to give some idea of its location and interior arrangements. The Pontefract hermitage is comprised of two associated chambers which would have originally been open and visible, cut into the ridge of the hill overlooking the river valley, as well as St Richard’s Friary just below. Certainly, the oratory’s heavily worn steps indicate that the entrance might have once been exposed to the elements. The hermitage comprised two chambers, side by side, chiselled out of the sandstone hillside. Records show

Figure 10.8 Former Pontefract Dispensary now derelict. Today the former hermi­ tages are located several metres below the road and pavement shown here (by author).

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Figure 10.9 Entrance to Pontefract hermitage. Now inside the basement of the derelict Pontefract Dispensary, the hermitage would have once been visible and situated on the ridge of the hills overlooking the river valley (by author).

that the hermitage was founded by 1368 when Robert de Laythorpe gifted it to his brother Adam. Later hermits include William Porlington in 1405 and John Lound in 1417. In 1433 the oratory was added to the site by John de Huddyfield, a canon of Nostell Priory (Clay 2014, 101). The front of the hermitage is formed of large ashlar blocks with a doorway and blocked window (Figure 10.9). The doorway gave access to a small chamber, some of which has been bricked off, and a spiral staircase of 65 steps cut into the rock. The staircase descends 11 metres via a barrel-vaulted passage to a shallow basin or well of spring water. The passage has four small niches which would have been for candles. Near the bottom of the staircase is a bas-relief carving of a skeleton in the wall, which may be of medieval date. The entrance to the ‘oratory’ is formed of a 12th-century doorway, which was probably removed from the friary and placed here in the 19th century. This gives access to a small passageway which leads to a chamber of 4.3 metres by 2.4 metres with a domed ceiling of about 2.5 metres. Inside the oratory is an altar, a fireplace, a bench, a low stool and a bed recess (Figure 10.10). There may once have been a small terrace or garden at the front of the caves. It is also possible that other hermitages, now lost or hidden, were ranged along the hillside at Pontefract as certainly there are references to hermits as early as the 13th century (Figure 10.11). Today, the hermitage at Pontefract is in constant danger of flooding, probably caused

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Figure 10.10 Interior of the oratory at Pontefract showing fireplace and bench/bed (by author).

Figure 10.11 View of the former river valley looking towards the Dispensary building at the top of the ridge (with the remains of the hermitage underneath it). Other hermitages might have also been cut into the ridge of the hill overlooking the valley (by author).

by the building of the Pontefract Hospital in the 2000s. Consequently, the water level is being controlled by continuous pumping. The Hermitage is listed Grade 1 by Historic England and at the time of writing is on its ‘At Risk’ register. In 2013 The Pontefract Heritage Partnership, a charitable

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organisation dedicated to the acquisition, preservation and development of the Pontefract Dispensary and Hermitage for public benefit was set up (pontefractheritage.co.uk).

Eremitic Communities in Late Medieval England The presence of eremitic cave communities, such as may have been the case at Pontefract, is not unusual in late medieval England and there are many other comparative examples. At Redstone, for example, there are a range of eroded cells still visible in both the upper and lower cliffs. As noted earlier, there is also some evidence for the former presence of exterior structures or more probably stairs, walkways or galleries. These may have been also used to give access between individual caves. A report by Bishop Hugh Latimer in 1538 reported that the caves at Redstone could lodge 500 men (Jones 2019, 205). However, this is in terms of capacity not the official numbers of her­ mits and was reported in the context of being a potential hideout for in­ surrection. At Guy’s Cliffe, near Warwick, Warwickshire, there is a similar pattern of multiple caves still visible on the cliffs overlooking the River Avon (Figure 10.12). The hermitage is traditionally associated with the 10thcentury Guy of Warwick and during the 12th century became the property of St Sepulchre’s Priory in Warwick, and one Gilbert, described in an or­ dination list of 1238 as the ‘hermit of Warwick’, may have dwelt there. In the early 13th century, a Brother Wiger, a canon of Oseney, is reported to have taken up residence having determined to lead the solitary life at the

Figure 10.12 Hermitage at Guy’s Cliffe, Warwick, Warwickshire (by author).

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place called ‘Gibbecliff’ (Clay 2014, 51). The hermit’s cave itself is small and narrow, and around 5 metres long by just over 2 metres at its widest point. In the western corner of the cave is a blocked arched doorway which led to a rock-cut chamber containing two wells that were originally part of the her­ mitage. The current ‘entrance’ to the cave is just under a metre above the ground and is rough and irregular and was probably once a window. The presence of a larger doorway higher up the cliff suggest that there were further components to this hermitage that are now lost or removed by the con­ struction of the later chapel to the west. There is a range of cells in both upper and lower cliffs, some of them have barrel vaulting, small square-headed windows and other signs of habitation. Perhaps one of the most celebrated examples of an inhabited medieval cave complex comes from the city of Nottingham. Here, a survey project conducted by Trent and Peak Archaeology on the City’s extensive cave system estimated them as numbering around 800 examples (Gilbert and Kinsley 2001). Many of the caves were used for a variety of non-religious functions, but some were put to religious use including the hermitage at Lenton, or Park Rock, in the city suburbs. Here, a network of caves was used as a hermitage during the 13th century, later being reused as a bowling club pavilion, an air raid shelter and finally a caravan showroom in 1985. The caves at Lenton were once on the edge of the River Leen, a tributary of the Trent. Within the cave complex is a stone-hewn chapel or oratory. The chapel/oratory was dedicated to St Mary de Roche and was possibly originally founded by Carmelite monks, but by the 13th century was under the control of the Cluniac monks of Lenton Priory. It is likely that St Mary de Roche was an important satellite chapel or hermitage to the Priory. Today the caves are hidden from view by several apartment blocks overlooking Nottingham Canal. It is tempting to think that many medieval town suburbs had communities of hermitages on their outskirts. Those that survive, such as Lenton, Guy’s Cliffe, Redstone and possibly Pontefract, are rare survivals. However, as a representative survival, they may be indicative of the fact that ‘conjugal solitude’ was once a more common phenomenon of medieval society. At Bridgnorth, a series of caves span the sandstone cliff overlooking the town (Figure 10.13). Although subject to erosion and neglect, many of the caves were clearly once used as dwellings. In 1877, the Bridgnorth Town Clerk, Hubert Smith, recorded that there were two cottages in the ‘Hermitage Caves’. One had a fireplace, chimney, window and door. However, one cave still presents evidence for earlier use as a hermitage. Despite extensive weathering, the remains of a carved arched doorway survive as well as a small stairway, which gave access to an upper space. Much of the front of this hermitage is now gone, but the round arch with its recessed order, reminiscent of Romanesque style, might date this structure to the late 11th or early 12th century (Figures 10.14 and 10.15). The lower cave has evidence for an altar with a large niche above, and it is possible that this cave represents a former chapel or oratory with accommodation above

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Figure 10.13 Hermitage caves at Bridgnorth, Shropshire (by author).

Figure 10.14 Bridgnorth hermitage showing eroded archway and stair doorway (by author).

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Figure 10.15 Antiquarian photograph of Bridgnorth hermitage showing evidence for Romanesque arch, stairway door and interior (anon. Author’s collection).

(Smith 1878). Nearby, at Hermitage Hill, the eroded remains of four cham­ bers, including a little chapel, are hollowed out of the rocky hillside and may also represent the former dwellings of a small community of hermits.

Collegiate and Chantry Hermitages By the 15th century, there were a number of more elaborate hermitages, which probably reflect changes in patronage and religious mores. It was perhaps no coincidence that this was also a period that coincided with the rising popularity of collegiate and chantry foundations across England, as well as the contemplative monastic orders such as as the Bridgettines and the Carthusians. The 15th century was the heyday of the chantry, many of which were founded in monasteries and parish churches across the country. A chantry was the foundation of a mass to be said for the souls of the founders and other named persons (Roffey 2008, 16). The foundation of a chantry mass also responded to a wider desire for more and varied masses in a period of Eucharistic popularity. In this light, a chantry priest would have been an ideal vocation for a hermit, who was also ordained as a priest. It is also worth noting that ordained priests should celebrate mass once a day, so the endowment of a chantry mass would have provided for this, as well as being a source of income and accommodation. The growing popularity of Eucharistic practices and associated lay participation from the 14th century onwards would have influenced both the status of hermits as well as the form of hermitages. The fact that many hermitages had associated chapels

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or related spaces, as well as areas for waiting or seating may further indicate a relationship between eucharistic practice and the status of some hermi­ tages at this time. At Guy’s Cliffe, Warwick, there was a cave to the east of Guy’s Cave known as the ‘cloisters’. This large chamber is in the form of a rock-cut hall with pillars and arches, surrounded by an ambulatory (Figure 10.16). The cloisters, and at least some of the surrounding cells in the cliffs, may be related to what William Worcester’s 15th-century Itinerary recorded as a ‘fair house to be made for the priests called hermits’, founded by Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick (Clay 2014, 34). This presumably was part of a college attached to a chantry chapel of St Mary Magdalene established on the site in the 15th century. Whether or not the chantry priests inhabited the caves as true hermits is not known. However, it may point to some attempt to continue, perhaps nominally, if not wholly in practice, the eremitic tra­ dition attached to the site. Certainly, the spiritus loci of the site was an important consideration behind the location of the chantry chapel, a factor that has been noted elsewhere (i.e., Roffey 2008). The 15th-century hermitage at Warkworth, Northumberland, is probably one of the most architecturally significant examples in Britain (Figures 10.17 and 10.18). The hermitage is on the grounds of Warkworth Castle and was under the patronage of the Dukes of Northumberland who may have pro­ vided for its construction sometime around 1400, and presumably also had use of its architecturally elaborate chapel. A reference in 1487 reported the presence of a chantry chaplain, and it has been suggested that the hermitage

Figure 10.16 ‘Cloisters’ at Guy’s Cliffe hermitage (by author).

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Figure 10.17 Warkworth Hermitage with later ground floor domestic buildings to the left (by author).

Figure 10.18 1783 Antiquarian plan of Warkworth hermitage (1783) showing the main chapel (right) and adjacent oratory (left) (anon. Author Collection).

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was a privately established chapel rather than a secluded dwelling for a religious recluse (Honeyman and Hunter Blair 1954). However, in 1515 one Edward Slegg is described as the ‘hermit of the chapel’ and a 1586 survey mentioned a house ‘kept in times past a hermit or priest’ (Clay 2014, 69–70). The hermitage is cut into the cliff face above the River Coquet and a set of stone steps lead up to a series of chambers cut into the rock and include a 3-bay chapel with a carved rib-vaulted ceiling (Figure 10.19). Parallel to this is a narrow chamber with a recess which might have once served as a bed. This chamber probably once represented the living accommodation, and/or a sacristy. The remains of some stone steps to the west suggest that this chamber was possibly earlier than the chapel or entered separately. To the east of this chamber and parallel to the chapel is a small oratory with a squint through to the chapel. The small oratory has an inscription above the door which reads: ‘they gave me gall for my meat: and in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink’ (Gilchrist 1995, 170). This was an excerpt from Psalm 69:22, a Psalm of lament and consequent hope for atonement from sin. This line refers to the sin of gluttony and excess which did not seem to sit too un­ comfortably with the sumptuous decor of the hermitage. Inside the chapel, there is an effigy tomb and elaborate altar, highlighted by a small double window, with a carved depiction of the Nativity behind it. Outside the

Figure 10.19 Interior of the chapel at Warkworth Hermitage showing carved vault, altar and niche. Note the squint on the left of the picture which pro­ vided visual access to the altar from an adjacent oratory (by author).

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hermitage at ground floor level are the remains of later buildings which may represent the subsequent addition of a kitchen and accommodation block.

Hermitages, Religion and Society The elaborate interior of the Warkworth hermitage is architecturally unique and thus is not representative of the majority of medieval hermitages whose interiors were somewhat more restrained. Many former medieval hermitages still retain architectural features which are mainly practical or liturgical in nature, rather than decorative. This includes practical essentials such as bed recesses, stairwells and fireplaces as well as architectural features such as doorways and windows. Some also had iconographic and religious features that were fortunate enough to have escaped later damage or iconoclasm. The remains of altars can still be seen in many examples, including Lenton, Pontefract, Warkworth, Bridgnorth, Knaresborough and Redstone. These would have provided the religious foci for the hermitage or the setting for the celebration of mass. At Warkworth, the chapel was clearly designed for the celebration of mass with its large carved rectangular altar, arched re­ redos with central niche for a candle or image and a piscina and an aumbry (basin and cupboard). However, many hermits, arguably the majority, were not ordained as priests, even some of those who were former monks. Also, many hermitages would have been inhabited by consecutive hermits over time, each of which would have brought with them a particular experience or qualification. Therefore, many altars may have also served as a devotional focus, much in the way of prie-dieu (prayer desks), and were often accompanied by an icon or image. For example, a rule dating from the 14th century enjoined hermits to be ‘sufficed’ with their image of the crucified Saviour (Clay 2014, 31). At Cratcliffe, the small cave hermitage has a niche, probably once for a candle, and a natural projection for an altar, above which sits a remarkable carved Christ on the Cross (Figure 9.1). The cross was decorated in crosshatch design perhaps suggestive of the Tree of Life, a symbol of eternal life and the lifegiving presence of God. It is rudimentary and was probably carved by a former hermit. In other cases, where hermits were ordained priests, altars may have been used for the celebration of mass and were decorated accordingly. For example, at Redstone, a 17th-century survey recorded that there were several altars. One had a wall painting over it depicting an archbishop cele­ brating mass before the Instruments of Our Saviour’s Passion (Jones 2019, 205). It is likely that the wall painting depicted the popular Eucharistic theme of St Gregory celebrating mass, a common decorative feature of many chapels in the medieval period. Above this was an inscription offering an indulgence to visiting devotees (Clay 2014, 36). This again raises the intriguing possibility of the presence of the laity who perhaps, at times, attended mass. Evidence for benches at Warkworth and Knaresborough, noted earlier, and possibly Pontefract, likewise may further support the presence of the laity on certain

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occasions. It might also be the case that some hermits served as spiritual guides and confessors. Moreover, as we have seen in the previous chapter, the religious life of the hermit was also a contemplative one, reinforced by the architecture and space of the hermitage. This contemplative life perhaps in­ volved certain exercises and practices that both complimented and enhanced the solitary life and the interiors of many hermitages, replete with images, iconography and inscriptions would have articulated a rich and evocative context for contemplative and devotional practice.

Hermitage Chapels The ‘dual’ arrangement of chapel and associated dwelling is a common feature of many eremitic sites from the 5th century onwards and indeed has been claimed to be the ‘standard requirement’ for hermits throughout the medieval period (Gilchrist 1995, 164). We have seen this already with examples from the deserts of Egypt to the Atlantic shores of western Ireland. In this context, many outlying and isolated chapels that had attached dwellings and perma­ nent individual residency could therefore be argued as functioning, by defi­ nition, as hermitages. In many cases, and as we have seen, the institutional status of the hermitage, as distinct say from churches or monasteries, was in many cases reasonably ambivalent. The various forms of hermitages varied greatly. It may be that many chapels that were in isolated areas were analo­ gous to traditional hermitages. Certainly, the lifestyle and experience of an individual priest, living in relative seclusion or at some distance from a set­ tlement, might have been in practice very similar to a hermit’s. There were several such ‘hermitage’ chapels in later medieval Britain. Many were distant from towns and communities being situated in rural, isolated areas and often on hills or outcrops. At Horteley, near Bath, the present farmhouse may mark the location of a former chapel hermitage dedicated to St Catherine (Jones 2019, 186). A particularly remarkable and unique example is represented by the medieval chapel of St Michael on Roche Rock, Cornwall. The chapel is perched on a rocky outcrop rising above the sur­ rounding landscape and is reminiscent in some ways of a Stylite hermitage. Built of stone, its incorporation into the surrounding rock and its exposed and isolated position was an impressive feat of structural engineering. The chapel was licensed and built in 1409 and now survives as a small rectangular roofless building. The lower floor provided accommodation for the priest, with the chapel above. Due to its inaccessibility, it must have had limited public access. The chapel probably represented a chantry foundation and was funded by a private endowment. The provision of a chantry chapel at Roche with its in­ tegral accommodation may have meant that the chantry was perpetual and that the priest would have been expected to serve the chantry on a regular basis, perhaps for the entirety of his religious career. The fact that the priest may have also been a ‘hermit’ might have added another level of status to the foundation.

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At Burgundy Chapel Combe, Somerset, the remains of a small medieval chapel survive which may correspond to the ‘Bircombe Chapel’ referred to in the Luttrell household accounts of 1405. The chapel has an attached tworoomed domestic building with a fireplace which may have represented a hermitage attached to the chapel. The buildings lie within a square enclosure partly defined by the remains of an earth bank (Dennison 1985). A similar arrangement can be found at St Catherine’s Hill, Winchester, where a chapel and associated domestic building were built on the summit of an Iron Age hillfort almost 100 metres above the floodplain and about 2 km south of Winchester. Excavations in the 1920s revealed the remains of a 12th-century chapel within an enclosure surrounded by several associated medieval earthworks, including a further building, boundary ditches, rubbish pits, and a possible cemetery (Hawkes, Myres and Steven 1930). Hermitages were a tangible socio-religious component of many medieval English towns and many hermits, as well as anchorites, lived in or around the boundaries of medieval towns. Urban hermitages came in various forms but often reoccupied disused and redundant buildings. This in­ cluded disused chapels and churches which would have offered ideal and resonate spaces for eremitic life. Examples of disused parish churches that were reused as hermitages include St Margaret’s Colgate, Norwich and St Giles, Thetford (Clay 2014, 71). Civic hermits paid their dues in the form of maintaining town bridges, ditches, gates or river crossings, often acting as wardens, guides and ferrymen. Consequently, many hermitages were adjacent to bridges and rivers as well as town gates and walls. At Bridge Hewick in North Yorkshire the hermit, a former mason, constructed the stone chapel himself at the end of the bridge over the River Ure (Jones 2019, 203). At St Mary’s bridge chapel in Derby the hermit collected both alms and tolls. Today although the medieval bridge is gone, apart from a fragment of the arch, a significant part of the original 13th- or 14thcentury hermitage/chapel still survives and hints at this once impressive medieval structure. In Norwich in 1483 a hermit named Robert Godard lived over St Stephen Gate’s in return for work as ‘keeper of ditches’. Furthermore, it was stated that he should repair the chamber and the ‘soller’ (solar) over the gate (Fitch 1861, 12). The gate is now demolished, and a large roundabout is now in its place, but an engraving of the gate in about 1860 shows a small doorway on the outside of one of the gate towers at ground level, which presumably gave access to the hermitage above (Figure 10.20). Similar arrangements may have been implemented at other Norwich gates including St Giles, Bishopgate, Berestreet and Magdalen gates. As well as the maintenance of ditches and walls, such civic responsibilities might have also included watch-keeping and other civic duties and this meant that several town gatehouses, as well as wall bastions and towers, also served as hermitages. These arrangements ob­ viously had mutual benefits in that in return for accommodation the hermit would perform an important civic responsibility.

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Figure 10.20 St Stephen’s gate, Norwich in 1861. Note the ground floor doorway (Ninham 1861).

In London, examples of wall or bastion hermitages include Cripplegate, Aldgate and Bishopsgate. At Cripplegate, a chantry was founded in 1399 by Mary Countess of Pembroke at the ‘hermitage of St James in the Wall’ (Cook 1947, 63–44). At Winchester, ‘Castle Mound’, a small earthwork to the north of the city which probably originated as a small defensive tower erected in the 12th or 13th century, was later known as the ‘hermit’s tower’ in reference to its reuse as a hermitage in the later medieval period. As well as performing individual civic responsibilities, wall and tower hermitages may have also fulfilled a combined symbolic function. As we have seen previously, where there were a few such hermitages, as at London and Norwich they may have acted as an ‘enclosing ring of prayer’ on the boundaries of their city (Dowding 2016, 52). Certainly, the construction of symbolic landscapes has been noted previously, for example at Winchester in the 12th century. Here, the medieval townscape was reorganised and reorientated in reference to Rome and Jerusalem in order to articulate the city’s special standing as a site of authority and religious identity. (Roffey 2020). Hermits may have also been viewed as a special case of religious outsider, both in social and religious terms, and the location of hermitages around the edges of cities and towns may have reflected this liminal status.

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The wider social and civic context of some medieval hermitage sites was also mirrored in the presence of coastal hermitages and chapels which also served as beacons or lighthouses. Here, the relative isolation of many lighthouses on rocky promontories, headlands and coastlines would have provided an ideal environment for the hermit and in return meant that the lighthouse would be regularly and reliably tended. There is some surviving historical and archaeological evidence for lighthouse hermitages that may suggest that this was a regular arrangement, particularly in the southwest of England. Lighthouse hermitages and chapels could be found at Land’s End peninsula, Cornwall; St Michael’s Chapel, St Ives, Cornwall; Rame Head in the Plymouth estuary, Devon; St Catherine’ s Tor, Hartland, Devon, and St Michael’s, Braunton, Devon. On St Martin’s Head, Chapel Down in the Scilly Isles, the foundations of the chapel are still visible. Perhaps one of the most significant survivals is from St Catherine’s Head, Isle of Wight. Perched on a high ridge above the English Channel a tall medieval octagonal tower is all that survives of an oratory that was built in 1328 (Figure 10.21). The tower was constructed of dressed and coursed stone and currently still stands 12 metres high. The tower probably served as a lighthouse or beacon and was constructed at the time the south coast was subjected to frequent French raids, the most infamous one being the raid on the port of Southampton in 1338. The Solent coast, just 13 km south of Southampton is clearly visible from the tower and it is possible that it also served as a

Figure 10.21 St Catherine’s Lighthouse, Isle of Wight. Note the trace of the roof-line from the formerly attached oratory and ground floor doorway ori­ ginally giving access to the oratory from the lighthouse (by author).

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warning beacon. The lighthouse formed the western tower of the oratory of which the remains of the former walls are still visible as earthworks. Limited excavations in 1891 revealed the building plan of the oratory and disclosed that it was a long narrow building with a possible alcove at its eastern end for an altar (Stone 1891). The late medieval period witnessed the evolution of new institutional forms of eremitic life. These were largely represented by the Carthusian Order and, to a lesser extent, by the Austin ‘Hermit’ Friars. Carthusian monasteries have been the subject of significant survey and excavation. Moreover, new forms of eremitic life emerged during the later medieval period that were almost en­ tirely lay-based, and significantly involved many women. These were the an­ chorites, a group that was to become one of the most visible manifestations of solitary religious life in the late medieval period and for which, again, sig­ nificant archaeological evidence can be found.

References Bottomley, F. (1993) St Robert of Knaresborough. Ruddington: Adlard Print and Typesetting Services. Clay, R. M. (2014), in P. Campbell (ed.), Hermits and Anchorites of England. Howell, MI: Cruachan Hill Press. Cook, G. H. (1947) Medieval Chantries and Chantry Chapels. Oxford: Phoenix House. Dennison, E. (1985) ‘Somerset Archaeology 1984–5’, Proceedings of the Somerset Archaeology and Natural History Society, 129, 22–23. Dowding, C. M. (2016) ‘“A Certain Tourelle on London Wall … Was Granted … for Him to Inhabit the Same”: London Anchorites and the City Wall’, Journal of Medieval Religious Cultures, 42 (1), 44–55. Farmer, D. H. (1982) The Oxford Dictionary of Saints. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Fitch, R. (1861) Views of the Gates of Norwich Made in the Years 1792–3 by the Late John Ninham. Norwich: Cundall, Miller and Leavins. Gilbert, D. J. and Kinsley, G. (2001) A Survey of Caves at Lenton Hermitage, Castle Boulevard, Nottingham. Nottingham: Trent and Peak Archaeology. Gilchrist, R. (1995) Contemplation and Action: The Other Monasticism. Leicester: Leicester University Press. Gilchrist, R. (2020) Sacred Heritage: Monastic Archaeology, Identities, Beliefs. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hawkes, C. F. C., Myres, J. N. L. and Stevens, C. G. (1930) St Catharine’s Hill, Winchester. Winchester: Warren and Son. Herbert, J. (1985) ‘The Transformations of Hermitages into Augustinian Priories in the Twelfth Century’, in J. Shiels (ed.), Monks, Hermits and the Ascetic Tradition, Studies in Church History, 22, 131–145. Holdsworth, C. (1990) ‘Hermits and the Power of the Frontier’, Reading Medieval Studies, 16, 55–76. Honeyman, H. L. and Hunter Blair, H. (1954) Warkworth Castle and Hermitage. English Heritage.

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Hope, W. H. St John (1883) ‘Chronicle of the Abbey of St Mary de Parco Stanley, or Dale, Derbyshire’, Journal of the Derbyshire Archaeological and Natural History Society, 5, 1–30. Jones, E. A. (2019) Hermits and Anchorites in England, 1200–1550. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Licence, T. (2007) ‘Evidence of Recluses in Eleventh-Century England’, in M. Godden and S. Keynes (eds.), Anglo-Saxon England, 36, 221–234. Roffey, S. (2008) Chantry Chapels and Medieval Strategies for the Afterlife. Stroud: Tempus. Roffey, S. (2020) ‘Sanctity and Suffering: The Sacred World of the Medieval Leprosarium. A Perspective from St Mary Magdalen, Winchester’, in R. Lavelle and A. Langlands (eds.), The Land of the English Kin: Studies in Wessex and AngloSaxon England in Honour of Professor Barbara Yorke. Leiden: Brill, 538–555. Simons, E. (2021) ‘Anchor Church Derbyshire: Cave Hermitage or Summerhouse? A Case Study in Understanding a Rock-cut Building’. University of Bristol Spelæological Society Proceedings, 28 (3), 347–360. Smith, H. (1878) ‘Bridgnorth Hermitage’, Transactions of the Shropshire Archaeological and Natural History Society 1, 159–172. Stone, P. G. (1891) The Architectural Antiquities of the Isle of Wight. 2 Volumes. London: Privately Published.

11 Institutional Hermits

The late medieval period saw the emergence of new dynamic institutional forms of eremitic vocation. Of these, the anchorites, exemplified by the fa­ mous anchoritic mystic St Julian of Norwich, were to become one of the most visible manifestations of solitary religious life in medieval England. Another, principally monastic form, represented by the Carthusian Order was to provide a model of communal eremitic life that was entirely distinct from traditional forms of cenobitic monasticism. Other monastic orders, such as the so-called hermits of St Augustine or the Austin Friars, modelled a form of mendicant eremitic life that combined a programme of social engagement. The monastic context of the Carthusians and Austin Friars, and the embedding of the anchorite within the institutional life of the parish church, meant that a considerable body of contemporary documentary material exists, and naturally, this has been the focus of much recent his­ torical study (for example; Warren 1985; Hughes-Edwards 2012; Gunn and Herbert McAvoy 2017; Jones 2019). Furthermore, several Carthusian houses have been the subject of archaeological investigation (e.g., Lockhart 1989; Barber and Thomas 2002; Coppack 2006; Coppack and Keen 2019). Although it is not the intention of this book to replicate the archaeological material on Carthusians or to examine the archaeology of anchorite cells in any great depth, institutional eremitism of the later medieval period re­ presented a further and later flourishing of the wider hermit tradition, particularly in England, and therefore merits some attention within the context of our broader archaeological history.

Anchorite and Anchorhold Anchorite cells or ‘anchorholds’ emerged as a distinct context for eremiticbased religious vocation in the late medieval period. Many anchorite cells, many of which were attached to parish churches, date from the 14th century onwards. Documentary evidence records the existence of 780 anchorites on 600 sites in medieval England between 1100 and 1539 (Jones 2019, 7). Unlike the hermits we have previously examined, the anchoritic life was a vocation that was favoured primarily by women and consequently almost two-thirds DOI: 10.4324/9780429024559-14

Institutional Hermits 167 of recorded foundations were for female anchorites (Warren 1985). It was also a form of eremitic life that was closely regulated, and many anchorites were under the direct jurisdiction of bishops. Anchorites were also ‘solitary by choice, and they consequentially became solitary by law and in this way, they were distinct from hermits’ (Warren 1985, 7). In some instances, hermits became anchorites through a desire for more solitude and regulation, which further points to the distinction between the two forms of eremitism. However, there may have been other reasons for such transitions, and these may have included a need for greater regulation, age and increasing infirmity. Alternatively, the adoption of the anchoritic life might have been due to a desire to focus more directly on sequestered solitary religious practice rather than a religious life that was tied to social or economic responsibilities. In many ways, the anchorite was a variation on the theme of the conventional hermit. Both embraced reclusion in a religious framework. However, the anchorite lived, often permanently, in a small cell attached or ‘anchored’ to a church. They also differed from traditional hermits in that their lives were both relatively static and regulated. The social-economic context of the an­ chorite was also somewhat diminished, and arguably, the anchoritic life was one that was predominately orientated toward an individualised relationship with God, as exemplified for instance by the personal and highly devotional writings of the 14th-century anchorite Julian of Norwich. Many anchorites had a reputation for learning and literacy and the works of many former anchorites, such as Julian of Norwich and Simon Appulby of London, still survive. In some cases, anchorites acted as confessors. Westminster Abbey, for example, had a succession of anchorite confessors. The Reformation of the mid-16th century did much to disrupt the fabric of religious life in late medieval England and led to the eventual diminish­ ment and abandonment of many hermitages and anchorite cells. However, some anchorholds were adjuncts to parish churches and, at least structu­ rally, survived to be reused and maintained as extra church space for other purposes including vestries, sacristies and storage rooms. Often their ori­ ginal status has been forgotten, especially if there is no record of former use. Consequently, this means that many former church anchorite cells have yet be identified as such. On other occasions, where cells have been removed and dismantled, archaeological traces may remain, including the outlines of former roofs, blocked doorways, former interior windows or noticeable and unusual changes in church fabric. At St Lawrence Stratford-sub-Castle, near Salisbury, Wiltshire, structural changes visible in the fabric of the north outer wall of the chancel, as well as the insertion of a later window and the presence of an internal squint inside the church, point to the possible former presence of a now dismantled chapel or anchorite cell (Figure 11.1). Many anchorite cells had typical features such as windows, doorways and liturgical features including squints for observing mass, or the remains of prayer desks or niches. Here archaeology can be of value in helping to both identify former anchorite cells and to further investigate their form and

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Figure 11.1 Possible evidence of a former chapel or anchorite cell visible in the fabric of the chancel wall of St Lawrence’s, Stratford-sub-Castle, Wiltshire (by author) (see also Figure 11.2).

fabric. One key feature of anchorite cells was the internal window or squint which provided the anchorite with a view of the high altar and consequently, the mass celebrated inside the church. The function of squints has been previously studied in medieval parish churches where they enabled views between altars which might otherwise be obscured (Roffey 2006, 2008). In anchorite cells, they provided a similar function in allowing the anchorite to have a view of the altar, yet still allowing her to be concealed from view. In all examples, the squint gave a direct view of the high altar exclusively. The aperture of the squint would also ‘frame’ the altar allowing for a personalised and private religious experience. In this context, the squint facilitated a view of the altar during mass and allowed the anchorite to see the Elevation of the Host, the most important element of the mass. Internal squints appear to have been a common architectural feature of anchorite cells and overall in­ dicate the importance of the anchorite’s participation in church Eucharistic practice. Where they are found in church spaces, squints almost always point to liturgical use. Therefore, in certain contexts, the presence of blocked ‘external’ windows (sometimes erroneously referred to as ‘leper squints’ or ‘hagioscopes’), or windows in interior walls that seem to serve no visual purpose, including features such as interior windows in vestries, may in fact be

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Figure 11.2 Blocked squint in north chancel wall at St Lawrence’s, Stratford-subCastle, Wiltshire (by author).

Figure 11.3 Cruciform squint between anchorite cell and chancel at St Nicholas, Compton, Surrey (by author). This would have enabled the anchorite to privately participate in the mass whilst remaining concealed from public view.

former squints (Figure 11.2; 11.3). Where these features can be identified it may be taken as potential archaeological evidence for the presence and lo­ cation of a former chapel or anchorite cell. For example, at Denbury parish church, Devon, the small structure at the east side of the north transept has

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served for many years as a vestry. However, the small internal squint between the vestry and the church interior serves no function in this context. It would have been important had the vestry once been an anchorite cell as it provided an anchorite with a view of the high altar. This example therefore may point to the former and original use of this space as one once used by an anchorite. At Hardham, Sussex, the squint window, uncovered in around 1900, is all that can be seen from the cell which may have been the residence of an anchorite bequeathed half a mark in 1253 (Clay 2014, 120) and later a Prior Robert, who died there in 1285 (Coppin 2006, 70). Squints were therefore a feature of many anchorite cells, and a number of examples survive, including at the Anker’s House, Chester-le-Street, County Durham and the parish churches at Leatherhead, Surrey; St Julian’s Shoreham, West Sussex and Devizes and Stratford-sub-Castle, Wiltshire. The demolished former cell at Shere, Surrey, had two small openings into the church which are still visible in the exterior of the church wall. The first was cruciform and was intended to allow the anchoress to take communion. The other was a squint that allowed her to see the church’s altar. At Holy Trinity, Skipton, North Yorkshire, the small internal window is relatively low and implies that the anchorite was kneeling or praying whilst observing the altar. At Compton, Surrey, the wooden prayer desk was placed just below the small low-level window which provided an unobstructed view of the high altar (Figure 11.5). In examples where the anchorite cell was demolished, the traces of internal windows or doorways, which would have once given access to the church, can still be seen in the fabric of a number of churches as at Shoreham and Skipton. In other cases, traces of rooflines or beam slots for roofing can give a hint to the former presence of a cell, as at St John’s, Devizes where there was a possible anchorite cell attached to the Lamb chantry chapel (Roffey 2008), and Chipping Ongar, Essex. Several relatively intact parish church anchorholds survive. These in­ clude the impressive examples at Willingham, Cambridgeshire; Kings Lynn, Norfolk, and at Compton. These important survivals allow us to have unique glimpses into the architectural context of medieval anchoritic life. At Willingham, the small cell attached to the north side of the church has often been interpreted as a sacristy, but it was also most certainly a former anchorite cell. The cell has features that are typical to anchorholds including an outward-facing or ‘world-side’ window, internal squints and a doorway to the church. Conservation work revealed evidence for a former bed or bench set in the north wall (Lander 2005). The ‘world-side’ window would have allowed for light, but its relative height, at under 2 metres from the ground, might have also facilitated visual or even, at times, personal communication with outside world. The fabric of the an­ chorite cell is ashlar masonry which contrasts markedly with the rougher work of the church itself. This suggests a level of patronage and status and clearly implies that the founding anchorite or patron was a person of some means.

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Figure 11.4 Anchorite cell, St Nicholas, Compton church (by author).

At Compton, a small cell was constructed on the south side of the church’s east end. Here, the cell is a comparatively small structure (Figure 11.4). Inside there are the remains of a wooden prayer desk built into the recess of a window, and a small stair leads to an upper gallery above the chancel (Figure 11.5). It is possible that the cell was a private oratory, whilst the gallery above served as accommodation. The bipartite division of accommodation and oratory is also a feature of the Anker’s House at Chester-le-Street, one of the most complete and substantial anchorite houses remaining in England. The ‘house’, dating to at least the 14th century, had been incorporated into the west end of the north aisle of the parish church and comprised four rooms (Figure 11.6). One of the rooms served as an oratory since it had a squint which gave a view of the high altar. The other rooms may have served as accommodation or as ser­ vant quarters. The presence of service buildings may appear incongruous with the life of an anchorite but because of their isolation anchorites would have been dependent on the church community and local laity, and in some cases, personal servants. Many anchorites were widows, who liberated from familial responsibilities, decided to adopt the anchorite life. In such cases, the servants may have been former household retainers who simply con­ tinued their duties within this new context. At All Saints, King’s Lynn, Norfolk, traces of a roofline point to the presence of an associated building,

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Figure 11.5 Prayer desk with squint in anchorite cell, St Nicholas, Compton (by author).

Figure 11.6 Anker’s House at Chester-le-Street, Co.Durham (by author).

perhaps a domestic range and implies the former presence of servants. The anchorite cell itself was built against the south wall of the chancel with an interior window which gave a view to the high altar and a window to the south for outside communication.

Institutional Hermits 173 Little archaeological evidence survives for outside spaces associated with anchorite cells such as gardens or sanitation areas, though the latter would have presumably existed. Many anchorites were buried in their churchyards, although some were buried within their cells. At St Mary Magdalene, East Ham, London, drainage work on the outside of the church conducted in 1921 uncovered the remains of a skeleton buried in a lead-lined coffin. This was conjectured to mark the possible site of a former anchorite cell (Hodson 1940). In 1927, workman digging the foundations for a new vestry at St Anne’s, Lewes, in Sussex, revealed the remains of a former anchorite’s cell with a grave inside. This was probably the cell of a female anchorite known from a bequest in the will of Richard de Wych, Bishop of Chichester (d.1253) (Godfrey 1928). Although the dimensions of the cell were not re­ vealed, the work at St Anne’s did reveal a small window through to the south side of the chancel which would have given a view of the high altar. There was also a hatch connecting with the south transept which might have been used for communication or to receive alms or food. The form and fabric of many anchorite cells imply that their former residents would have been of some wealth and status since the appro­ priation of church space and the material for the building of these cells would have required substantial capital. However, in other instances an­ chorite cells, especially those situated in churchyards, might have been less distinguished. Furthermore, if constructed of organic materials, such as timber, they would be ephemeral and leave little trace unless revealed by excavation. Archaeological excavation at Sedgeford, Norfolk, in 1999 revealed evidence for the presence of a small timber structure close to the church. The remains were found beneath the later medieval boundary path between the cemetery and adjacent manor and consisted of a rammed chalk floor and a single post hole. Within this were two evenly spaced graves cut into the floor. One grave was disarticulated but the other was revealed to be c. 35-year-old male who was subsequently scientifically dated to c. 1010–1180 (Licence 2007, 232). On other occasions, former church chapels may have once served as an­ chorite cells such as the north chapels at Abingdon, Oxfordshire (Rodwell 2012, 292) and Sherborne Abbey, Dorset (Clay 2014, 119). In 1459 the former leprosy hospital chapel at Arundel, West Sussex, was occupied by a hermit. The remains of the foundations of the hermitage were still visible in the 19th century (Page 1973, 97). Anchorite cells could also be found in other areas of churches and cathedrals. At Chichester Cathedral there was an anchorite cell at the east end of the Lady chapel, and at Worcester in the cemetery (Huitson 2014, 56). Norwich Cathedral had three anchorite cells which were in the west end of the Cathedral, adjacent to the south transept and next to the lay cemetery, respectively. (Gilchrist 2007, 97–98). At Durham Cathedral an anchorite occupied a timber loft close to the high altar and the Shrine of St Cuthbert (Clay 2014, 118). In other instances, porches may have served as former anchorite cells as with the porch

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and western baptistery at John the Baptist in Norwich (Clay 2014, 120). At Whitefriars Friary, also in Norwich, the remains of an anchorite house can still be seen in the form of a tile and flint wall and 14th-century arch. Both the Franciscan and Dominican Friaries in Norwich also had anchorite cells (Ayers 2009). At the Dominican Friary in Arundel records stated that a monk had himself ‘walled up’ as an anchorite in a cell (Page 1973, 93–94). The late 11th century witnessed a refining of the ideal of the monastic hermit and the creation of formal communities of hermits in a monastic context. In England, there was some precedent for reclusion in a monastic context before the establishment of more specialised institutions in the 13th to 16th centuries, such as those noted above. Earlier examples include records of women recluses at Peterborough abbey before it was burned down in the c. 1080s and two women who lived as nuns in the precinct of the abbey at Bury-St Edmunds (Licence 2007, 226, 232). Such arrangements were, however, generally of an ad hoc nature. Certainly, as we have previously seen ‘conjugal solitude’ was an essential model within the history of eremitism. Thus, in some ways, the de­ velopment of monastic forms of eremitic life in the later medieval period was really but a formalisation of a centuries-old tradition and model, which in­ cludes the eremitic communities and conjugal solitaries that we have con­ sidered previously.

Hermit Friars and Contemplative Monks We have previously noted that the monastic reforms in England and the wider continent from the later 11th century reinvigorated monastic life in Europe and provided a new stimulus for eremitism. During this period the popularity of the hermit life seems to have increased considerably and once established a hermit often inspired others to join them, thus becoming the ‘instigator of a religious group which needed formal organisation’ (Herbert 1985, 131). Such was the nature of eremitism from its earliest beginnings. It was a vocation that was popular in religious circles, and it was a natural ‘progression’ for some influential hermitages to grow their numbers and expand over time. This process can be illustrated, for example, by Robert of Molesme. Robert was a key religious figure in the development of eremitic practice within traditional continental monasticism of the later medieval period. He was originally the leader of a small hermit community at Molesme in the valley of Langres in Burgundy. Over time Robert’s small but dynamic community evolved but consequently began to lose some of its spiritual vigour, possibly due to natural and unregulated growth and ex­ pansion. Consequently, Robert left Molesme in 1098 and together with a few companions, including the English monk Stephen Harding, founded a new community at Cîteaux, a wasteland southwest of Dijon. This commu­ nity was originally planned as a Benedictine foundation but soon become the motherhouse of the new Cistercian Order.1 Thus from humble origins as a small hermitage in Molesme, the Cistercians were to become one of the

Institutional Hermits 175 richest and most influential monastic orders in medieval Europe. At their heart, however, the early Cistercians did seek to reinvigorate monastic life with a renewed focus on asceticism, liturgical rigour, solitude and work. Consequently, many early Cistercian houses were founded in remote areas, which offered both the relative solitude of the ‘desert’ together with un­ cultivated land that could be worked on. Notable examples in England in­ clude Fountains Abbey and Rievaulx among eight abbeys founded in rural Yorkshire between 1132 and 1150. In England, the Cistercians played a major role in the reform of the monastic life church and promoted a more simple and ascetic Benedictine life, ultimately modelled in part on the lives of the desert fathers. To reflect this the churches and claustral buildings of early Cistercian monasteries were often utilitarian, unadorned, and relatively small with simple furnishings. Such was the popularity of the Cistercians, however, that by the 13th cen­ tury many had become wealthy beneficiaries and major landowners and the once modest churches and cloisters were rebuilt on a grander and more ornate scale. A case in point is Fountains Abbey, North Yorkshire, which by the later medieval period was one of the wealthiest monasteries in medieval England. The Abbey’s chronicle recorded that the site which lay in an iso­ lated valley along the River Skell was settled by a small group of monks in 1132 who had first lived in a cave before building an oratory and huts of turf and wattles (Coppack 2006, 54). This was soon replaced by more substantial timber buildings. Excavations in the south transept in 1980 revealed evi­ dence for two former timber buildings in the form of deep post-pits which had once contained squared timbers. These buildings probably represented the original simple church and a domestic building (Coppack 2006, 55–56).

The ‘New’ Hermits Despite their widespread reforming influence on religious life and practice, the Cistercians were at heart a cenobitic monastic movement with their monasteries inhabited by large numbers of monks and lay brethren living communally. However, through their reforming drive to get back to the simplicity and asceticism of the early Christian desert fathers and mothers, they were complemented by new groups of religious orders who emphasised the cultivation of a wholly eremitic lifestyle within an institutional frame­ work. Preeminent of the new formal type of monastic hermitage was the Holy Hermitage and Monastery of Camaldoli (c. 1012) and the Vallombrese (c. 1036) both founded in the Tuscan Apennines, Italy, and the Carthusian Order founded at Le Grande Chartreuse, near Grenoble, France, in 1084. These three orders were part of the so-called ‘New Hermits’, who along with other monastic orders, such as the Cistercians, were to completely change the monastic landscape of Western Europe. Much like the Cistercians, the Carthusians were part of a wider movement of reform orders who sought to challenge the perceived liturgical and architectural self-indulgence of the

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Cluniac Order in particular. They were joined in the 13th century by the largely urban-based mendicant orders, the Dominicans, Franciscans, Carmelites and the Austin or ‘Hermit Friars’. In Spain, the Order of Saint Jerome or Hieronymites founded in the Iberian Peninsula received official papal recognition in 1373 and comprised several communities of hermit monks living according to the Rule of Saint Augustine. The Austin Friars, or ‘hermit friars’ was a merger of several hermit groups living in the hills of central and northern Italy. In 1256 they agreed to follow the rule of St Augustine, which allowed for more flexibility in the religious life and became known as the Order of Augustinian Hermits. This ‘grand union’ of eremitic groups into an Order led to an eventual migration into the cities, and the Hermits subsequently adopted the two main features of 13th-century mendicancy; intellectual prominence in the universities, and preaching to the urban laity. The Hermits had reached England before formal unification and had settled at the town of Clare in Suffolk in 1252 (Holder 2017, 119). This was swiftly followed by friaries at Woodhouse, Somerset, and then London in the 1260s. By the start of the 13th century, there were friaries in many major English cities including Oxford, York and Winchester. Unlike the other mendicant orders many Augustinian friaries were, at the outset at least, generally small-scale institutions. For example, at Leicester, the community numbered about 20 in the early 14th century and the initial phases of religious occupation may have been represented by a timber structure, which was possibly an accommodation building (Mellor and Pearce 1981). Winchester Austin friary was founded outside the city walls on the edge of what would have been a relatively poor southern suburb. Excavations in 2001 revealed a simple aisled masonry church that directly abutted the street. The archae­ ological evidence revealed that the claustral range was built largely of timber. Where walls survived, they were comprised of flint, re-used stone and poorer quality chalk blocks.2 Despite the nomenclature of the Austin ‘hermits’, once they had unified and established themselves as urban monastic communities it is clear that their lifestyles, although possibly simple in many cases, was not eremitic in the true sense of the word, and more communally orientated both in terms of their religious life and their preaching activities. Here perhaps the ‘hermit’ was held as a symbolic acknowledgement of the radical simplicity espoused by early Christian hermits. Many friaries, as at Winchester, were in busy urban areas often directly abutting streets and markets. The flexibility of the Rule, to­ gether with an emphasis on social action would no doubt have impacted any notions of unadulterated solitude. The communal nature of many Austin friaries is shown by the archaeology of sites such as London, Winchester and Leicester which reveals that their layouts and organisation was very much in the tradition of cenobitical monasticism with cloisters, dormitories, refectories and other communal spaces. It was to be the Carthusians who were to in­ troduce a true eremitical monasticism to England which is reflected directly in both their lifestyle and the archaeology of their monasteries.

Institutional Hermits 177

The Carthusians Between the 12th and 15th centuries, 10 Carthusian monasteries were founded in medieval Britain with the first at Witham, Somerset, founded by Henry II in 1181. Subsequent monasteries, or ‘Charterhouses’, included Sheen, on the south bank of the Thames, Coventry and the London Charterhouse, perhaps best known for its association with 18 Carthusian martyrs executed by Henry VIII in the late 1530s. The best-preserved remains of a medieval Charterhouse in England are at Mount Grace Priory, North Yorkshire, which has also been the subject of various programmes of excavations between 1897 and 1900, and more recently between 1968–1974 and 1985–1992 (Coppack and Keen 2019). The layout and organisation of Carthusian monasteries were designed and ordered to facilitate a life of solitude within a contemplative and communal framework, including the presence of a supportive lay community. This was reflected in the layout of Charterhouses where the monastery was divided into ‘great’ and ‘little’ cloisters. Individual houses or cells were grouped around a large open precinct or great cloister, whilst the little cloister comprised the domestic and lay brothers’ areas (Figure 11.7). Located between these two cloisters was the church. Compared to other types of monasteries, Carthusian churches were rela­ tively small due to general Carthusian concerns regarding patronage, as well

Figure 11.7 Mount Grace Priory, North Yorkshire. Remains of cloister range and entrances to former cells with the church in the background (author).

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Figure 11.8 Mount Grace Priory great cloister with reconstructed cell (by author).

as the frequency of use. The community would meet in the church daily for mass and sometimes for individual prayer or conference. Generally, however, they spent most of their active life alone in their cells. Here, each monk would be expected to spend his time engaged in prayer, contemplation and work as well as taking his meals (Figure 11.8). Carthusian monks were renowned for their learning and contemplative experience, much of which was no doubt reinforced by a lifetime spent in relative solitude. Some contemporary insight into the solitary activities of Carthusian monks is given by Adam of Dryburgh who wrote his Quadripartite Exercise of the Cell at Witham Charterhouse sometime in the late 12th or early 13th century. Here the contemplative context of Carthusian life was explored in the context of ‘four parts’ of re­ ligious exercise which involve ‘spiritual reading, clear meditation, pure prayer and diligent work’ (O’Cinnsealaigh 2002, 122). It has also been suggested that the seminal mystical text, The Cloud of Unknowing was written by a monk of Beauvale Charterhouse, Nottinghamshire (Clark 1995). Beauvale may have also been a centre for the study of the works of the English mystic Richard Rolle (Hughes 1988). Some extant remains survive at Beauvale Charterhouse including part of the church. The site was excavated in the early 20th century and revealed further evidence for four cells, the little cloister and some other conventual buildings (Du Boulay Hill and Gill 1908).

Institutional Hermits 179 In actuality, the ‘cells’ of Carthusian monasteries were more like houses. They were stone-built, two-storey terraced structures with rooms and out­ door space. Despite notions of simplicity and austerity, they were in relative terms impressive buildings. Each house had individual sanitation and water supply, each ‘cell’ was also equipped with a workroom, oratory and garden, as well as a small cloister ‘walkway’ and a roofed passage giving access to a latrine at the back of the garden (Figure 11.9). There were rear windows only, which looked out towards the garden and not over the cloister or other houses. This served to further limit sensory engagement with the outside world. Food, if not prepared by the monk, was cooked in the monastic kitchens and this, together with any other communication and provision was facilitated via a small ‘L’-shaped hatch between the outer cloister walkway and the house, limiting unnecessary social or visual interaction. Excavations at Mount Grace revealed that the garden of each house was organised and maintained individually by the respective monks, and included a variety of garden types, perhaps reflecting the personal horticultural pre­ ference of the resident or requirements of the monastery’s cellarer. Despite being well-built and provisioned and, by medieval standards, affording a comparatively high standard of living, the Carthusian house represented the ideal, albeit privileged, monastic environment for the solitary religious life. The architectural arrangements of the cell and the enclosure of outside space

Figure 11.9 Mount Grace Priory. Former garden area and side wall of the house with remains of the walkway on right (by author).

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facilitated a life of uninterrupted solitude and interiority. The Carthusian cell contained spaces for work, prayer, exercise and outdoor activity, yet was supported more widely by a community of brethren and lay workers. Although not as prolific as other types of monasteries, the Charterhouses nonetheless provided a context for communal solitary life that was applicable to both rural as well as urban locations. The Carthusians were one of the last medieval orders introduced in England before the suppression of the monasteries in the later 1530s. What would become known as the Dissolution of the Monasteries was to sweep away both the Carthusians and the Austin Friars, among other monastic establishments. It took place in the political context of other assaults on the religious beliefs and ecclesiastical institutions of Roman Catholicism, which included anchorites and hermits. Cells, holds and hermitages were dissolved and dismantled, and their occupants were removed or retired. However, the universal call of the hermit; the inexorable impulse for spiritual solitude, was never to truly diminish and was to re-emerge a century or so later within renewed expressions of eremitic lifestyle as well as new secularised forms of hermitage.

Notes 1 Taking its name from the region of Cistercium. 2 These excavations are unpublished, and a report is yet forthcoming. The author was part of the excavation team.

References Ayers, B. (2009) Norwich: Archaeology of a Fine City. Stroud: Amberley Press. Barber, B. and Thomas, C. (2002) The London Charterhouse MoLAS Monograph 10. Clark, J. P. H. (1995) The Cloud of Unknowing: An Introduction. Salzburg, Austria: Institut fur Anglistik und Americanistik. Clay, R. M. (2014) Hermits and Anchorites of England, in P. Campbell (ed.). Howell, MI: Cruachan Hill Press. Coppack, G. (2006) Abbeys and Priories. Stroud: Tempus. Coppack, G. and Keen, L. (2019) Mount Grace Priory: Excavations of 1957–1992. Oxbow: Oxford. Coppin, P. (2006) 101 Medieval Churches of West Sussex. Seaford: S.B. Publications. Du Boulay Hill, A. and Gill, H. (1908) ‘Beauvale Charterhouse, Notts.’, Transactions of the Thoroton Society, 12, 69–71, 87, 89. Gilchrist, R. (2007) Norwich Cathedral Close: The Evolution of the English Cathedral Landscape (Studies in the History of Medieval Religion), Woodbridge: Boydell Press. Godfrey, W. H. (1928) ‘Church of St Anne Lewes’, an Anchorite’s Cell and other Discoveries’, in Sussex Archaeological Collections, 69, 159–169. Gunn, C. and Herbert McAvoy, L. (eds.) (2017) Medieval Anchorites in their Communities, (Studies in the History of Medieval Religion), Woodbridge: Boydell Press.

Institutional Hermits 181 Herbert, J. (1985) ‘The Transformations of Hermitages into Augustinian Priories in the Twelfth Century’, in J. Shiels (ed.), Monks, Hermits and the Ascetic Tradition, Studies in Church History, 22, 131–145. Hodson, M.O. (1940) ‘Ankerhold at East Ham Church’, Essex Archaeology, 22, 245–246. Holder, N. (2017) The Friaries of Medieval London: From Foundation to Dissolution. Woodbridge: Boydell Press. Hughes, J. (1988) Pastors and Visionaries: Religion and Secular Life in Late Medieval Yorkshire. Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer. Huitson, T. (2014) Stairway to Heaven: The Functions of Medieval Upper Spaces. Oxford: Oxbow. Hughes-Edwards, M. (2012) Reading Medieval Anchoritism: Ideology and Spiritual Practices. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Jones, E.A. (2019) Hermits and Anchorites in England, 1200–1550. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Lander, J. (2005) The Sacristy of the Church of St Mary and All Saints Willingham, Cambridgeshire: The Case for an Anchorhold. Freeland Rees Roberts Architects http://www.frrarchitects.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/Anchorhold-atWillingham-Church_Jeremy-Lander.pdf Accessed 18/2/22. Licence, T. (2007) ‘Evidence of Recluses in Eleventh-Century England’, in M. Godden and S. Keynes (eds.), Anglo-Saxon England, 36: 221–234. Lockhart, R. B. (1989) Halfway To Heaven: The Hidden Life of the Carthusians. Cistercian Studies, 186. Mellor, J. and Pearce, T. (1981) The Austin Friars, Leicester. The Leicestershire County Council and the Council for British Archaeology: Leicestershire Archaeological Field Unit Report, CBA Research Report, 35. O’Cinnsealaigh, B. D. (2002) A Marian Theology of Adam of Dryburgh. Unpublished Thesis for a Degree in Licentiate of Sacred Theology International Marian Research Institute of the University of Dayton and the Pontifical Faculty of Theology Marianum. Page, W. (1973) (ed.) A History of the County of Sussex, Vol. 2. London: Victoria County History. Rodwell, W. (2012) The Archaeology of Churches. Stroud: Amberley Books. Roffey, S. (2006) ‘Constructing a Vision of Salvation: Chantries and the Social Dimension of Religious Experience in the Medieval Parish Church’, The Archaeological Journal, 163 (1), 122–146. Roffey, S. (2008) Chantry Chapels and Medieval Strategies for the Afterlife. Stroud: Tempus Warren, A.K. (1985) Anchorites and their Patrons in Medieval England. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press.

12 The ‘Afterlife’ of the Medieval Hermitage

The Reformation of the English church and people effectively ended over 1000 years of Catholic faith in England. It heralded the dissolution of monasteries, the abolition of chantries, pilgrimage and the cult of saints and relics. In material terms, this meant the destruction of monastic buildings, monuments, chapels, images, art and, inevitably, hermitages and anchor­ holds. However, officially, the solitary life as a religious vocation was itself never actually abolished (Jones 2019, 176), although eremitism had been in decline for some time prior to the Reformation (Clay 2014, 231). Inevitably, the Carthusian houses were dissolved, and their monks pensioned off. Some monks, as in the case of London, were martyred. The buildings of many Charterhouses were dismantled and partially reused. The remnant of London Charterhouse was converted into a private mansion and later a school. With the framework of traditional spiritual life removed, many hermitages and anchorholds were vacated and consequently dismantled or requisitioned for alternative use. As we have noted previously, many an­ chorite cells were reused as storage rooms or vestries, as at Willingham. Some cells may have also been viewed as part of the chantry system and consequently abolished at a local level (Clay 2014, 232). In some cases, where hermits were doing useful work such as maintaining bridges and roads, hermitages and their hermits remained in place (Clay 2014, 237). However, in most cases, former hermitages, including caves, were put to secular use. At Bridgnorth, the former cave hermitages were reused as homes for the poor. Here in 1877 the town clerk recorded two cottages in the ‘Hermitage Caves’, one having a fireplace and chimney. At Redcliffe, Bristol, the caves were reused as a space for Quaker burials. In other in­ stances, many former caves hermitages were left derelict and later falling victim to urban expansion, erosion by pollution and lack of care which has led to many of these former hermitages becoming a dwindling historical resource (Figure 12.1). There is some credence therefore behind the claim that as we enter the post-medieval period of the later 16th century, the solitary now belonged to a ‘bygone age’ (Clay 2014, 241). However, the yearning and fascination for the hermit’s life was little diminished. It was to remould itself, not only in the DOI: 10.4324/9780429024559-15

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Figure 12.1 Derelict cave at Bridgnorth (by author).

secularised form of ‘ornamental hermits’, but within the renewed expres­ sions of religious life that flourished in the 19th and 20th centuries. Moreover, and as we have seen, it was also to an important and longstanding component of many Eastern religions, such as Buddhism, which were introduced to the west throughout the second half of the 20th century.

Secular and ‘Ornamental’ Hermits Ornamental hermitages were a form of monument that were used to enhance the status and give an ascetic aesthetic to the gardens and landscapes of the elite. Constructed mostly by wealthy landowners they were largely a phenomenon of the post-medieval period and were in essence follies or decorative landscape structures. They were built generally for visual effect and were intended to improve or complement a natural or garden setting. In design and setting ornamental hermitages mimicked traditional hermi­ tages and some examples also employed part-time ‘hermits’ on occasion. The idea of the ‘secular’ hermitage or ‘ornamental’ hermitage that emerged in the 18th century may trace its origins back to the medieval period. The early 15th-century hermitage at Warkworth, considered previously, pre­ sented a potential example of a proto-ornamental hermitage. The hermitage was constructed in the grounds of Warkworth Castle and was under the patronage of the Dukes of Northumberland and was clearly a component of the wider castle landscape and gardens. The well-appointed and archi­ tecturally elaborate hermitage, with its 3-bay chapel, living accommodation, kitchen and other associated rooms was as much a statement of lordly

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patronage and religious aesthetic, as religious vocation (Figure 10.17). However, in the medieval period piety and visual status were not necessarily mutually exclusive, for in an intensely devout medieval society, overt re­ ligiosity was a fundamental articulation of social standing. If we turn briefly to the continent, an early and less ambivalent example appears at the Château de Gaillon, near Rouen in France. Here in 1502 a private retreat was created, called ‘Le Lydieu,’ for the archbishop of Rouen (Campbell 2013, 3). This building took the form of a small garden hermitage later expanded to feature a rock-work hermitage set on a small artificial island and surrounded by small statues (Campbell 2013, 4). On a grander style the ducal palace, gardens and town squares, designed for the Duke of Lerma in 1599 at Lerma, near Burgos, Spain, comprised not only a group of hermitages, including the surviving La Piedad, but a range of inter­ connected monasteries and colleges (Campbell 2013, 4). In Britain, the first authentic hermitage folly was designed for Queen Caroline in the 1730s and located on the site of the present-day Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew, just outside London. The stone-built hermitage, since removed, was de­ signed by the architect William Kent, the man responsible for the in­ troduction of the Palladian style of architecture into England at nearby Chiswick House, as well as a leading pioneer in landscape gardening. The hermitage, and its associated ‘Merlin’s Cave’, was described at the time as ‘grotesque, being a Heap of Stones thrown into a very artful Disorder, and curiously embellished with Moss and Shrubs, to represent rude Nature’ (Curll 1736, 111–112). But perhaps Kent’s ‘heap of stones’ was a contrived aesthetic component to his designed landscape. Here, in its perceived roughness it was reminiscent of the ancient cave hermitages and therefore of a lost spiritual past. Kent went on to design another hermitage at Stowe, Buckinghamshire, which can still be seen today (Figure 12.2). This hermi­ tage was similar to the one designed for the Queen at Kew and was ori­ ginally accompanied by stuffed and wooden mannequins representing ‘hermits’. The roughhewn effect on the stonework of the Stowe hermitage was certainly designed to give a sense of ancient ruggedness and was again evocative of the traditional hermit’s cave. The incomplete or broken turret on one side of the hermitage also provided a sense of antiquity and mel­ ancholic ruination. However, this overall effect is somewhat compromised by an intact bell tower and the wide central arched opening with voussoirs and a classical-style pediment with carved wreath and panpipes. The her­ mitage at Stowe therefore combined a sense of both ancient ‘eremitic aes­ thetic’ with contemporary tastes in the classical-influenced Palladian architectural style, an effect not lost on visitors to the Stowe estate. Ornamental hermitages were ultimately designed to give a religious aes­ thetic to the gardens and palaces of the aristocracy. The interiors of these ‘hermitages’ were often designed with what we might term a gentrified as­ cetic aesthetic. At Brocklesby Park, Lincolnshire, the late-18th century hermitage constructed in the Mausoleum Woods was constructed in brick

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Figure 12.2 Ornamental hermitage at Stowe, Buckinghamshire (Public Domain).

and tufa and included tree trunk pillars supporting a slate roof. The inside is decorated with tree boles and rustic furniture including a chair and seating for guests. At Painshill Park, Surrey, a thatched octagonal hut on the western side of the gardens was once an ornamental hermitage complete with its own hermit. It became derelict and was dismantled in the 1940s but has been recently authentically restored by the Painshill Park Trust who rebuilt the hermitage in 2004. Several contemporary guidebooks described the hiring of people to act, perhaps on certain social occasions, as hermits-in-residence (Campbell 2013, 5). The famous naturalist Gilbert White had two hermitages on his property at Selborne, Hampshire, where his brother Reverend Henry White acted as a hermit to entertain guests (Figure 12.3). However, poor Henry seems to have become somewhat attached to one such female guest and wrote a famous lament in response to her departure. Here he waxed, the ‘hoary hermit … no longer safe from her resistless charms; with trembling hand, dim eye, and faltering feet, sighs out his dotage o’er her snowy arms!’ (Henry White aka ‘Henry the Hermit’ 1763, in Campbell 2013, 87). The popularity of ornamental hermits and hermitages led to the pub­ lication of a number of books that supplied descriptions and accounts of employed hermits and their hermitages. In 1933 the English writer, Edith Sitwell, published her English Eccentrics which drew on both contemporary and older accounts of several hermits and hermitages. Her accounts are quite illuminating and give an insight into the ostentatiousness of some of

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Figure 12.3 Ornamental Hermitage at Selborne, Hampshire, with Henry White as the hermit (1777) (Samuel Hieronymus Grimm 1777).

these ornamental hermitages. For example, she writes of one ornamental hermitage in Preston, Lancashire, that offered fifty pounds for the hire of a hermit for seven years of service. The hermitage itself was underground but was reported as spacious, with a bath and a chamber organ (Sitwell 1971). Such was the popularity of ornamental hermits that a catalogue of hermi­ tage designs was produced. First published in 1767, William Wrighte’s Grotesque Architecture or Rural Amusement (1790) was a catalogue of de­ scriptions and accompanying plans and illustrations of idealised hermitage follies which included ‘Gothic Grottoes’, ‘Augustine’ and ‘Chinese’ inspired hermitages. Some of the hermitages depicted were similar in style to the rustic examples noted above (Figure 12.4). Others, such as the ‘Augustine Hermitage’ were more ornate. Here the hermitage was an idealised and somewhat elaborate monument and comprised a central cell with two cor­ ridors on either side linking a circular bathhouse and library, respectively.

Secular Hermits Apart from the ornamental hermitages and their hermits, a number of people were ‘secular’ hermits, or perhaps a more correct term might be ‘alternative’ hermits. These were men and women who sought out an al­ ternative lifestyle and elected to become recluses purely for the desire to live in relative isolation from society, rather than for specific or orthodox

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Figure 12.4 The ‘Hermetic retreat’ from Wrighte’s ‘Grotesque Architecture or Rural Amusement’ (1790) (William Wrighte 1790).

religious reasons. Some desired solitude to shun and react against society and its mores. Others, however, were also influenced by naturalism, science and philosophy and sought to immerse themselves within this world. Others still were drawn to, and influenced by, comparative religion, particularly the contemplative teachings of Hinduism and Buddhism which became more prevalent in the west from the 19th century. Certainly, the growing influence of Eastern religions, together with the revival of Western mysticism, from the end of the 19th century onwards led to the increased popularisation of contemplative practices (Baier 2009, 348). In this light, the ‘alternative’ hermit embraced a life that both elided with a counterculture as well as acted as a context for the exploration of alternative religious practices. Perhaps one of the most well-known of these contemporary hermits was the American naturalist and writer Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862) and his book Walden (1854/2004) which he wrote during a two-year stay in a wooden hut on the banks of Walden Pond near Concord, Massachusetts. Thoreau was certainly influenced by Indian spiritual thought and in Walden he made frequent reference to the sacred texts of India, particular the Bhagavad Gita. He also practiced Yoga and followed a dietary regime lar­ gely consisting of rice and vegetables. Today a small reconstruction of Thoreau’s hut, together with a memorial, occupies the position of his former hut. Walden became an inspiration for wanderers, ‘drop-outs’ and the ‘Dharma Bums’ of 1960s ‘counter-culture’ America. One such person was Robert Wolfe a contemporary contemplative teacher who has written

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several books about non-duality. In his thirties, Wolfe encountered Zen Buddhism and following a divorce, bought a camper van and moved into a redwood forest where he lived for several years in solitude. Another, albeit unconventional example, was Christopher Knight who in 1986, aged 20, drove into a forest in rural Maine, abandoned his car and with just some basic camping supplies found a small clearing in the densely wooded area surrounding a lake called North Pond. Here he stretched out a tarpaulin between the trees and erected a small nylon tent. He maintained this life in the woods for 27 years until being finally arrested for stealing food from a local canteen (Finkel 2017). Hermits like Knight can perhaps be termed ‘secular’ hermits in that their motives were wholly concerned with solitude and living ‘off-grid.’ Although there may be of course spiritual dimensions to such lives, if not an ethical framework, they nonetheless were not framed within any religious tradition, rule or vocation. There are many examples of early modern and con­ temporary secular hermits and recluses from Britain. An early infamous example was John Bigg who famously claimed to be the executioner of Charles I in 1649. He became a hermit after the Restoration of Charles II, perhaps for his personal safety, and is said to have lived in a cave at Dinton in Buckinghamshire (Caulfield 1819). The tradition of the secular hermit as a recluse continued into the 18th and 19th centuries. James McRory Smith, the celebrated hermit of Strathchailleach, lived for over 30 years on this remote stretch of land in Sutherland, Scotland, where there was no access road, telephone, running water or electricity. In 1848 Philippe Pinel the selfstyled ‘King of the Écréhous’, chose to live as a hermit on one of the small group of islands about 10 km from the northeast coast of Jersey, in the English Channel. Here he lived with his wife until she escaped on a visiting yacht some years later. Victorian day-trippers reported that the hermitage comprised two stone huts, one of which was a store. Pinel fished and kept a few chickens, collected rainwater to drink and maintained a simple oven to make bread (Bailiwick Express Jersey Addition 2020). Like Pinel’s, the hermit life is often portrayed as romantic, adventurous and unconventional. However, the documentary film The Hermit of Treig focussed on the Scottish hermit Ken Smith’s 40 years of solitude and his troubles con­ fronting the universal frailties of life; inevitable ill health, declining memory and consequent decisions regarding whether to live out as a hermit in his last years. Insightful and poignant the film gave a sobering insight into a reality that was no doubt an unavoidable and common feature of eremitism throughout the centuries.

Contemporary Hermitages and Hermits Despite the occurrence of secular and ornamental hermits, the centuries after the Reformation also saw the gradual re-emergence of religious orders and solitaries. The increasing religious tolerance in British society from the

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late 18th and early 19th centuries, as marked by the Emancipation Act of 1829, provided an environment that was conducive for the resumption of Catholic practice and for the introduction of new religious ideas. Furthermore the 19th-century High Church movement, which attempted to reinvigorate the Anglican Church, brought renewed interest in medieval spirituality and consequently the art and architecture of medieval churches. As a result, the 19th century heralded changes and innovations in the religious environment of the British Isles that provided a fertile ground for the renewal of the hermitic life and its adoption, once more, as a primarily religious vocation. In 1837 the Carthusians finally returned to England and founded a new monastery at St Hugh’s, Parkminster, West Sussex. The monastery as it stands today is arranged around the great cloister which at around 550 metres long is one of the largest in the world (Martin 2006, 159–60). The cloister connects 34 hermitage cells to the large neo-Gothic church and other claustral buildings and encloses orchards and the monastic burial ground (Figure 12.5). The community at St Hugh’s lead a solitary life, spending most of the time in their cells and all share in the same liturgical prayer. Four to five hours a day is also dedicated to manual work which includes cooking, gardening, and general maintenance of the monastery. Parkminster is the only Carthusian monastery in England and therefore the only monastic community dedicated to the solitary life. However, there are several smaller institutions and individuals that have adopted a religious vocation and, within the constraints of a modern so­ ciety, live authentically as religious hermits. In 1906 in a sleepy part of east Oxford, a small house, Fairacres, was purchased and converted to become the new Convent of the Incarnation. Inside, the windows were whitewashed, and a small library was set up on the mantelpiece of the fireplace. This was now home to a small Anglican community of sisters known as the Sisters of the Love of God, a religious community, but one dedicated to solitude. Each nun was provided with a cell in which they slept, prayed and studied. Later, further houses were opened in Hemel Hempstead, at Burwash in Sussex and Staplehurst in Kent (Clare 2014, 85–86). Fairacres is representative of a number of hermit and contemplative communities that sprang up in the 20th century. However, there were also several religious hermits who chose to live a life of individual reclusion, even in more recent times. One such is Rachel Denton who lives as a hermit in St Cuthbert’s House Hermitage in a small Lincolnshire village. Denton has taken a vow and lives under a rule, approved by the Bishop of Nottingham, and spends her life engaged in prayer and study deriving income from a small calligraphy workshop. Without a source of income, however, living as a hermit in the modern world is precarious. For many years, Karen Markham lived as a hermit in the Shropshire hills in the early 2000s until her benefactor and landlord was forced to sell up. Receiving Anglican Episcopal Blessing for her vocation in 2009 today she is

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Figure 12.5 Carthusian ‘cells’ and church at St Hugh’s Charterhouse, Parkminster, West Sussex (author).

Resident Contemplative and Composer at the Hermitage of Divine Wisdom in the Dysynni Valley, mid-Wales. Several other societies for lay con­ templatives and hermits still operate today. These include the Association of British Contemplatives, and more specifically, the Fellowship of Solitaries which draws its members from all walks of life and religious affiliations. Members include people who are married but also a number who are professed religious living as hermits. These contemporary hermits and communities are representative of a few Anglican and Catholic institutions that flourished in more recent times. As in the pre-Reformation period, such vocations could be in the context of a religious institution, as well as individual solitaries. One difference, however, was that today in Britain such practices could not only take place within the Christian tradition, both Protestant and Catholic, but also within new Eastern-derived contexts, primarily Buddhist (Figure 12.6). Today, the British hermit can not only be found in a house, hut or cloister but also within the sacred spaces of kutis and solitary retreats in Buddhist viharas and centres. Consequently, the ancient spirit of the hermit, with roots that reach out from the river valleys of India, the arid deserts of Egypt, the jagged coastlines of Ireland, or the hills and caves of medieval England is today, still alive and well.

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Figure 12.6 The ‘Kuti’ solitary retreat hut at Gaia House, Buddhist retreat centre, West Ogwell, Devon (by author).

References Baier, K. (2009) ‘Meditation and Contemplation in High to Late Medieval Europe’, in E. Franco and D. Eigner (eds.), Yogic Perception, Meditation and Altered States of Consciousness. Wien: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 319–346. Bailiwick Express Jersey Addition (2020) Looking Back: The King of the Écréhous – A Pioneer of Self-isolation. https://www.bailiwickexpress.com/jsy/news/lookingback-king-ecrehous-pioneer-self-isolation/#.Yr13Ky8w1u0 (Accessed 30 April 2022). Campbell, G. (2013) The Hermit in the Garden: From Imperial Rome to Ornamental Gnome. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Caulfield, J. (1819) Portraits, Memoirs, and Characters, of Remarkable Persons, from the Revolution in 1688 to the End of the Reign of George II: Collected from the Most Authentic Accounts Extant. London: H. R. Young and T. H. Whitely. Clare, M. (2014) ‘Eremitical Revival in the Anglican Church in the Twentieth Century’, in A. M. Allchin (ed.), Solitude and Communion: Papers on the Hermit Life, 2nd ed. Oxford: SLG Press, 79–93. Clay, R. M. (2014), in P. Campbell (ed.), Hermits and Anchorites of England. Howell, MI: Cruachan Hill Press.

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Curll, E. (1736) The Rarities of Richmond, Being the Exact Descriptions of the Royal Hermitage and Merlin’s Cave with his Life and Prophecies. Whitefish, MT: Kessinger Publishing. Finkel, M. (2017) The Stranger in the Woods: The Extraordinary Story of the Last True Hermit. New York: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group. Jones, E. A. (2019) Hermits and Anchorites in England, 1200–1550. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Martin, C. (2006) A Glimpse of Heaven: Catholic Churches of England and Wales. Swindon: English Heritage. Sitwell, E. (1971) English Eccentrics: A Gallery of Weird And Wonderful Men And Women. New Edition. London: Penguin. Thoreau, H. D. (2004) Walden. Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press. Wrighte, W. (1790) Grotesque Architecture, or Rural Amusement; Consisting of Plans, Elevations, and Sections, for Huts, Retreats, Summer and Winter Hermitages, Cascades, Baths, Mosques, Moresque Pavilions, Grotesque and Rustic Seats, Green Houses &c. London: I.J. Taylor.

13 Conclusion

The aim of this book has been to explore the archaeological history of the hermitage with a particular emphasis on the British medieval hermit tradition. By tradition means that this study has necessarily been framed within a broader comparative and historical context of the wider eremitic movement. As an archaeology, it has been mainly concerned with the physical evidence and material culture of the hermit life and how this ideal of spiritual solitude has manifested in different environments, places and times. This wider comparative investigation is relevant to an archaeological approach because, as we have seen, the ‘hermitage’ is a specific form of religious space and archaeological monument type. Thus, in terms of definition the ‘hermitage’ applies equally to the Indian plains of Bihar as it does to the English Peak District. Though its religious framework may differ through space and time, the ‘hermitage’ as an archaeological monument type is universal. This study has not proposed direct relationship between the eastern and western hermit traditions, but rather, put forward that there was a common architectural ancestry, and therefore an acknowledgement and consequent exploration of a common theme within religious traditions. The particular focus of this study on Christianity, and to lesser extent Buddhism, is relevant in that we have seen that these two religious traditions also have a strong monastic tradition, which often includes an individual commitment to solitary religious life. This book has also used the definition of hermitage to include what has been termed ‘conjugal solitude’, or hermits within a supportive community. Whilst this can be clearly argued in some obvious cases, such as the Carthusians, it may be more problematic in defining smaller monasteries, especially where there is little accompanying historical evidence. However, here we have argued that where the emphasis on solitude, private piety or individual enclosure is preeminent, as opposed to an emphasis on communal life, ritual and practice, then such smaller monasteries can be classed as hermitages in the broadest sense of the word. In this light, this study has argued that such hermitages can perhaps be technically defined, as they have by others, as ‘communal hermitages’ or ‘eremitic monasteries’ (ie, Thomas 1971, 44–47, Fisher 1997, 190). Here once again we get back to a central DOI: 10.4324/9780429024559-16

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point that solitude is not just physical solitude but also a solitude of experience or mind. For, to paraphrase the saying of the desert mother Amma Syncletica, it is wholly possible to be a solitary in one’s mind while living in a crowd. In this light, this book has also shown that hermits, whether alone or in a community, occupied a distinctive place within their wider societies and were often not entirely disconnected from the world around them. Secondly, this book has sought to uncover something of the religious life of the hermit. In this light, we have explored the rich mystical and contemplative texts of the later medieval period which give some insight into the contemplative lives of the medieval religious, that may have also included hermits. These writings give us a fascinating glimpse into the inner world and experience of the contemplative that was both rich and liberating. Consequently, they hint at the potential ritual and devotional context of hermitages and their spaces and how hermitage architecture may have been contrived to evoke and articulate specific religious meaning. This has also included an investigation into the significance of landscape, environment and cosmology. The function of caves in hermitage sites has received consideration particularly regarding the role they played in the symbolic and mythic life of the hermit and at times the wider religious and hagiographic landscape. This study has also illustrated how the search for solitude was the preeminent model and universal paradigm for the perfected spiritual life. The hermitage resided at the heart of an authentic religious life and experience and the hermit life was both the foundation and touchstone of several spiritual traditions. It was accordingly adopted by key religious luminaries including St Antony, St Benedict, St Francis, St Martin, St Cuthbert, the Old Testament prophets, Taoist sages and the Buddha and his early disciples. In this light, the hermitage was a space for the cultivation of religious experience. But also, it was in these caves, huts, communities and hovels that lie the origin and evolution of religious ideas, which were to inform and influence the development of religions throughout history. Furthermore, although much of this research has focused on antiquity, it has nonetheless shown that the hermit tradition remained an integral component of contemplative traditions that emerged or re-emerged in the 19th century, many of which are still flourishing today. Throughout is long history the hermit tradition has remained an almost constant mainstay of many religious traditions. The study of the hermitage has shown how ideals of solitude, simplicity, contemplation and the quest for meaning are manifested in a rich, and often still extant, archaeology. Many hermitage sites are still accessible, though a great many others must remain lost through time. Although this book has explored some key examples, and supported by descriptions and images, it is only really through visiting such sites can we get a sense of their spaces and environments. In this, I have been fortunate enough to visit, and even sit for a while uninterrupted, in these unique places. Finally, I began this book in 2019, but

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now as I write this final chapter, I am conscious that much of the world has changed since then. The Coronavirus Pandemic of 2020 and 2021, with its consequent periods of lockdown, has given many people a taste, of sorts, of the life of withdrawal. The life of a hermit. In some cases, our homes and gardens have become virtual hermitages, and much like an ancient Carthusian we have only been able to ‘break out’ for a walk each day. Here, we can perhaps all now share some small fellowship with the hermits of old. As we move forward into the future, there is a hope that the hermit’s abiding model of living simply and contemplatively, and at ease with the world, can still yet offer some inspiration and vision today, as it did in the past. In our increasingly busy and complex world, with its emphasis on gathering, consuming and possessing more and more ideas and ‘things’, it is hoped that here the silent voices of ancient hermits might still be heard.

References Fisher, I. (1997) ‘Early Christian Archaeology in Argyll’, in G. Ritchie (ed.), The Archaeology of Argyll. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 181–204. Thomas, A. C. (1971) The Early Christian Archaeology of North Britain. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Index

Page numbers in italics indicate figures. Adam of Dryburgh, Quadripartite Exercise of the Cell 178 Adomnán: De Locis Sanctis 37; Life of Columba 65–66, 82–83, 84, 88 Ælred of Rievaulx, De Institutione Inclusarum 123–124 Aidan, saint 104 Ajanta Caves, India 18, 21 Alexander the Great 16 Alexandria, Egypt 34 altars 159 alternative hermits see secular hermits Amma Syncletica, saint 33, 194 Anchor Church, Ingleby, Derbyshire 143–144 anchorite cells 166–174; burials 173; cathedrals 173; church chapels used as 173; identification of 167, 168; life of anchorites 166–167; parish church anchorholds 171–172; reformation, effects of 182; squints 168–170, 169, 172; timber structures 173 anchorites 56 Andersey Island, Somerset 111 Anglo-Saxon England see England Antony, saint 34, 38, 39, 40, 51 Apophthegmata Patrum 41 appearance of hermits 134–135, 135–136 archaeological remains 5–6, 8 Arundel, West Sussex 173, 174 asceticism 33–34 Ashoka Maurya 17, 18 Asia Minor 46–47 assama/āśrama system 12 Athanasius 34, 39, 51; Life of Antony 40, 51

Athos, Mount, Greece 47 Austin Friars 176 Auxentius of Bithynia 46–47 Avon River 152 bad monks 41 Badgworthy, Devon 113 Barabar Caves, India 14, 14 Bardsey Island, Gwynedd 94 Basil of Caesarea, saint 45–46 battlegrounds, spiritual 39, 63 beacons see lighthouse hermitages beards 135 Beauvale Charterhouse, Nottinghamshire 178 Beckery, Somerset 63, 113 Bede 103, 104, 106, 107 Benedict, saint 41, 54–57 Bernard of Tiron, saint 57 Berthelin, saint 111 Betheney, Staffordshire 111 Bhaja Caves, India 18 Bible 35–36 Bigg, John 188 boats 80, 81 Book of the Order of Chivalry 134 Brahmanism 12 Bray Head, Co. Kerry 75 Brendan of Clonfert, saint 83, 84 bridge hermitages 161 Bridge Hewick, North Yorkshire 161 Bridgnorth, Shropshire 137, 137, 153, 154–155, 155, 182, 183 Brière, France 58–59 Bristol 148, 182 Brittany, France 58–59

Index 197 Brocklesby Park, Lincolnshire 184–185 Buddhism: in China 26, 28; in England 187, 190, 191; in India 17–19, 20–21, 21; in Japan 29–30; meditation 18, 22, 26–28; monasteries 17, 18–19, 21; and the search for solitude 11–12; in Sri Lanka 21–22; in Tibet 31; wandering ascetics 13–14, 17 see also caves, Buddhist Burgos, Spain 184 Burgundy Chapel Combe, Somerset 161 burials: anchorites 173; Eileach an Naoimh 86, 87; Gurat hermits, France 58; Knaresborough 146, 147; Lundy Island 97; May Island 90; St Helen’s, Isles of Scilly 98; St Ninian’s Isle 62–63 Burren, Co. Clare 66, 67–68 Burry Holms, Swansea 94–96, 94–95, 131 Byzantine Empire 46–47 Caldey Island, Pembrokeshire 94 Camden, William 111 Canna, Highland 88–89, 89 Caradoc, saint 95 Carthusians 175–176, 177–180, 178–179, 182, 189, 190 Cassian, John 38, 41, 56 Cassino, Italy 55 Cassiodorus 135 cathedrals, anchorite cells in 173 caves: associated with saints 68–69; perceptions of 67; and siting of hermitages 127–128, 128; structures outside 137, 137–138, 144, 145; symbolic value of 38 caves, Buddhist: China 26–28, 27; India 14–15, 14, 18–19, 19–21; Japan 29–30; Sri Lanka 21–22; Tibet 31 caves, early Christian: England 104, 112, 137, 137–138; France 57–58, 58; Ireland 66–69, 67–68; Italy 55, 55; Jordan River, east of 36–37, 36; of the Olive Press, Gethsamene 37; Scotland 90–92, 91–92; Wales 96–97, 96–97 caves, late Medieval England: cave communities 152–153, 152, 154–155, 155; coastal caves 148–149; collegiate and chantry hermitages 155–156, 156–158, 158–159; riverside caves 143–144, 144–148, 146, 148; urban areas 148–151, 149–152, 153, 154–155, 155

Céli Dé 64, 79–80, 94 cells: beehive 71, 72, 75, 76, 77, 85, 85; Kellia, Egypt 43–44; underground 85, 87, 87 see also anchorite cells; caves; huts Celtic Christianity 64 cenobitic monasticism 35, 40–41 Cenydd, saint 95 Ch’an Buddhism 28 chantries 155–156, 156–158, 158–159, 160 chapels 160–164, 162–163 Charterhouses 175–176, 177–180, 178–179, 182, 189, 190 Château de Gaillon, Rouen, France 184 Chester-le-Street, Co. Durham 171, 172 China 24–29; Buddhism 26, 28; caves 26–28, 27, 130; Christianity 35; Confucianism 24–25; literary tradition 28–29; Taoism 25–26 Christ on the Cross 121, 159 Christianity: Biblical references 35–36; Celtic Christianity 64; in China 35; early medieval 61–64; in England 102–103; origins of the hermit ideal 33–35; personal spirituality 51–52; pre-Christian influences 35; and the search for solitude 7–8, 11–12 Christopher, saint 134 Cistercians 174–175 cities see urban areas Classical asceticism 33–34 Clement of Alexandria 34, 123, 135 Clifton, Bristol 148 clothing 134 Cloud of Unknowing 126, 178 coenobites 56 collegiate hermitages 155–156, 156–158, 158–159 Colman Mac Duagh, saint 66–67, 67–68 Columba, saint 65–66, 84, 88, 91–92 Columba’s Cave, Ellary, Argyll & Bute 91–92, 91 communal hermitages 7, 81, 193 Compton, Surrey 170, 171, 171–172 Confucianism 24–25 conjugal solitude 7, 33, 43, 153, 193 Constantinople 46–47 contemplation 125 contemplative practices 9, 122–126 contemporary hermits 188–190, 190–191 continuity from the Roman period see villas

198

Index

Convent of the Incarnation, Oxford 189 Corentin, saint 112 cosmological factors 6 crannogs 69 Cratcliffe Rocks, Derbyshire 121, 144, 144–145, 159 cross slabs 90 Crowland, Lincolnshire 108–110, 109 crucifixes see Christ on the Cross Cuddy’s Cave, Northumberland 104 Culdees 64, 79–80, 94 Culver Cliff, Isle of Wight 148–149 curraghs 80, 81 Cury, Cornwall 112 Cuthbert of Lindisfarne, saint 103–105, 104, 106, 130–131 Cynicism 16 daily life activities 126 see also work of hermits Dál Riata 80–82 Dale Abbey, Derbyshire 143 Denbury, Devon 169–170 Denton, Rachel 189 Derby 161 Derwentwater, Cumbria 107, 107 desert fathers and mothers 33, 37–38, 40, 41–42 deserts 38–39, 129 dialogues 28–29 diet 136–138 Dinton, Buckinghamshire 188 Dissolution of the Monasteries 180, 182 disused buildings 161 documentary sources see historical sources dress of hermits 134–135, 135–136 Dunhuang Caves, China 26 ‘dysert’ placename 65–66 East Ham, Newham, London 173 East Porth, Samson, Isles of Scilly, Cornwall 99 ecclesiastical villas 54 Eckhart 130 Egypt: deserts 37–38, 39; early desert fathers and mothers 34; monastic communities 43–44, 44; tombs, re-use of 39–40 Eileach an Naoimh, Argyll & Bute 83–85, 84–87, 87–88 Eilean Mór, MacCormac Isle, Argyll & Bute 88

Elidis, saint 98 enclosing ring of prayer 132, 162 England, early Medieval hermitages 102–115; Anglo-Saxon hermitages 106–112, 107, 109; caves 104, 112; Christianity in 102–103; Cuthbert of Lindisfarne, saint 103–105, 104, 106; islands in eastern England 108–110, 109, 111; islands in Northumbria 103–105, 104; islands in rivers 111–112; islands in the south west 63, 97–99, 98; South-Western hermitages 112–114 England, late Medieval hermitages 142–164; cave communities 152–153, 152, 154–155, 155; caves 143–144, 144–152, 146, 148–152; chapels 160–164, 162–163; collegiate and chantry hermitages 155–156, 156–158, 158–159; fittings and decoration 121, 121, 159–160 see also anchorite cells; Carthusians environmental factors 6 eremitic communities 6–7, 40, 70, 81, 89, 193–194 eremitic monks 64 Essenes 35 Evagrius 123 exile for Christ 65 eye of contemplation 125–126 Fa-Hien 15 facial hair 135 factors determining location 46, 65, 67–68, 70–71, 92 Fairacres, Oxford 189 Farne Islands, Northumberland 103–105, 104, 106, 130–131 Felix, Vita Sancti Guthlaci 108, 109 fen islands 108–110, 109, 111 film locations see Skellig Michael, Co. Kerry fittings and decoration 121, 121, 159–160 Flavius Rufinus 43 Flower, Robert see Robert of Knaresborough, saint follies see ornamental hermits food 135–138 Fountains Abbey, North Yorkshire 175 France 52–54, 57–59, 58 Francis of Assisi, saint 55 Freeman, Laurence 7, 28 Fruyte of Redempcyon 124

Index 199 gable shrines 75–76 garden features see ornamental hermits gate hermitages 161, 162 Gaul see France Gaza, Palestine 43 Ge Hong 25 Gelassenheit (tranquil submission) 130 geology 46, 71, 128, 143 Georgian period 184–186, 185–186 Gerald of Wales 94 Gethsemane, Olive Press Cave 37 Ghyston Cliff, Clifton, Bristol 148 Glastonbury, Somerset 113 Glastonbury Tor, Somerset 63, 113–114, 131 Godric of Finchale 137–138 Golant, Cornwall 112 Göreme Valley, Turkey 46 Goscelin of St Bertin 131 Govan, saint 96 graves see burials Greece: India, interactions with 16, 34; monastic sites 46, 47 guidebooks for hermits 132 Guigo I 119 Guigo II 124 Gurat Caves, Charente, France 58, 58 Guru Rinpoche Caves, Tibet 31 Guthlac of Crowland, saint 108–110, 109 Guy’s Cliffe, Warwick, Warwickshire 152–153, 152, 156, 156 gymnosophists 16–17 gyrovagues 41, 51–52, 56–57 hagiographic landscapes 91 hagiographies 53, 132 hairy hermits 134, 135 Hakuin Ekaku 29–30 Hardham, West Sussex 170 Herbert of Derwentwater 107, 107 Herbert’s Island, Derwentwater, Cumbria 107, 107 Herduin 111 hermit/hermitage 6 Hermit of Treig 188 hermits: classes of 56–57; contemplative practices 122–126, 130; diet 136–138; dress and appearance 134–135, 135–136; landscapes and 126–130; rules for 132–133; sky and 130–131; solitude, effects of 120–121; spiritual life of 119; transformative

experiences 120, 121; work of 133, 137, 161 Hilarion 43, 136 historical sources 4–5, 132–133, 134–135, 135–136 Hobthrush Island, Northumberland 103 Horteley, Bath 160 house-ascetics 42 Hugh of Balma, Ways to Zion Mourn 125 human remains see burials huts 29, 39, 52 Idsworth, Hampshire 134, 135 Illaunloughan, Co. Kerry 76 illustrations of hermits 134–135, 135–136 imported soil 87 independent hermits 57–59 India 7, 12–21; asceticism 13–14, 17, 34; Buddhism 17–19, 20–21, 21; caves 14–15, 14, 18–19, 19–21; communities 15–16; Greece, interactions with 16, 34; monasteries 17, 18–19, 21; naked philosophers 16–17; and the search for solitude 7–8, 11–12; solitary practices 12; śramaṇa movement 12–16; trade routes 34 Ingleby, Derbyshire 143–144 Inis Mór, Co. Galway 68, 69 Inishmurray, Co. Sligo 74–75 Inner Farne, Northumberland 104–105, 104, 106, 130–131 inter-visibility see visual networks Iona, Argyll & Bute 65–66, 81, 82, 82, 83 Ireland 61–77; cave sites 66–69, 67–68, 127; crannogs 69; early medieval Christianity 61–64; hermits and hermitages 64–66; islands 61–62, 62, 71, 72–73, 73–75, 76; landscape settings 70–71, 92; missionaries from 64, 79–80; peninsulas 71, 75–76; southwestern Ireland 70; spatial divisions 70 see also Dál Riata Iron Age societies 61–63 islands: England, east 108–110, 109, 111; England, in rivers 111–112; England, Northumbria 103–105, 104; England, south west 63, 97–99, 98, 113; France 54, 58–59; Ireland 61–62, 62, 71, 72–73, 73–75, 76; Scotland 83–85, 84–87, 87–90, 89 (see also Iona; Shetland); Wales 93–96, 94–95

200

Index

Isle of Wight 148–149 Isles of Scilly, Cornwall 98–99 isolation see solitude Istanbul, Turkey 46–47 Italy 55, 55 Japan 29–31, 30 Jerome, saint 41 Jersey, Channel Islands 188 Jesus Christ, sites associated with 36, 37 Jivakarama monastery, India 21 John the Baptist, saint 36–37 John Cassian see Cassian, John Jordan River 36–37, 36 Judaean Desert 43 Julian of Norwich, Revelations of Divine Love 125 Kanheri Caves, India 18–19, 19–21 Katskhi Pillar, Georgia 45 Keil Point, Argylle & Bute 92, 92 Kellia, Egypt 43–44, 44 Kent, William 184 Kew, Richmond upon Thames, London 184 Killabuonia, Co. Kerry 75, 75–76, 76, 131–132 Killelan West, Co. Kerry 77 Kilmaha, Rubha Na Fidhle, Argyll & Bute 81 King’s Lynn, Norfolk 171–172 Kizil Caves, China 26–28, 27, 130 Knaresborough, North Yorkshire 146, 146–148, 148 Knight, Christopher 188 koans 28–29 Kuča, China 26–28, 27 labour of hermits see work of hermits Lake District, Cumbria 107, 107 landscape gardens see ornamental hermits landscapes 126–130; hagiographic 91; Ireland 70–71; ritual 74–75; and siting of hermitages 8–9, 46, 65, 67–68, 92, 126–130; symbolic value of 69 Lanrivoaré, France 59 lavra/laura (hermit group) 43 lay people 159–160 leachta (shrines) 74 legacy of eremitism 9 Leicester 176

Lenton, Nottingham 153 Lérins, France 54 Lerma, Burgos, Spain 184 Lewes, Sussex 173 Lide, saint 98 Life of St Samson 93, 94 lighthouse hermitages 163–164, 163 Ligugé, France 52, 54 liminal places 128, 129 Lindisfarne, Northumberland 103 literature, vernacular 124 location, factors determining 46, 65, 67–68, 70–71, 92 London 132, 162, 173, 184 longevity 25 Longmen Grottoes, China 26 Lundy Island, Devon 63, 97, 98 manuscripts 134–135, 136 Marcus Aurelius 51 Markham, Karen 189–190 Marmoutier, France 52–54 Marpa 31 Martin of Tours, saint 52–54 martyrdoms 65 May Island, Fife 90 McRory Smith, James 188 Meare, Somerset 63 meditation 9, 123–124, 125; Buddhist 18, 22, 26–28; Zen sickness, cure for 29–30 Meditationes Vitae Christi 124 Megasthenes 16, 34 Meister Eckhart 130 mental health 120 Meteora, Greece 46 Milarepa 31 mindful attention 126 mindfulness 9, 119 missionaries 64, 79–80 Mithraic temples 38 Modwin, saint 111 monasteries: Buddhist 17, 18–19, 21; early Christian 40–41, 42–44, 45–46; late Medieval 142, 143, 174–180, 177–179 Monastery of Epiphanius, Egypt 39 monastic revolution 142, 174 monks, classes of 56–57 Monte Cassino, Italy 55 Mount Athos, Greece 47 Mount Grace Priory, North Yorkshire 177, 178–179, 179

Index 201 naked philosophers 16–17 Nectan, saint 112 New Hermits 175–176 New Testament 36 Nidd River 146 Nile River 37–38 Ninian, saint 91 Nitria, Egypt 43 Nitrian Desert 37–38, 43 Nornour, Isles of Scilly, Cornwall 98 Norwich, Norfolk 161, 162, 173–174 Nottingham 153 off-grid living 188 Old Testament 35–36 Olive Press Cave, Gethsemane 37 Onesicritus 16 Orderic Vitalis, Historia Ecclesiastica 110 ornamental hermits 183–187, 185–187 Oxford 189 Pachomius, saint 34, 40 Painshill Park, Surrey 185 Pali Canon 13–14, 15, 17, 22 Paris, Matthew 146 Park Rock, Nottingham 153 Parkminster, West Sussex 189, 190 Parrett River 111 Paul of Thebes, saint 38, 40 Paula, female hermit 42 Peakirk, Cambridgeshire 110, 111 Pega, saint 110, 111 peninsulas: Greece 47; Ireland 71, 75–76; Scotland 63, 90 penitential cells 85, 87, 87 penitential practice 65 peregrinatio (going into exile for Christ) 65, 77, 80 Perranporth, Cornwall 113 Petherick, Cornwall 113 Petroc, saint 113 Philo 35 pictures of hermits 134–135, 135–136 pilgrims, travel itineraries of 14–15 pillar hermitages 44–45, 45 Pinel, Philippe 188 Pirran, saint 113 placenames 65–66 platea (ceremonial site) 76 Plutarch 16, 61–62 Pontefract, West Yorkshire 149–152, 149–150

Portmahomack, Highland 90 post-Reformation hermitages 182–190; contemporary hermits 188–190, 190–191; ornamental hermits 183–187, 185–187; secular hermits 186–188 prehistoric societies 61–63 Preston, Lancashire 187 Priestholme, Anglesey 94 Pseudo-Dionysius ‘the Areopagite’ 123 Puffin Island, Anglesey 94 Rajgir Caves, India 14–15 Rathlin Island, Co. Antrim 68, 69 Redstone, Worcestershire 137, 138, 144, 145, 152, 159 Reformation 182 renunciants 51–52 retreats, bishops’ 52–53, 57, 106 Rhinoceros Sutra 13 Richard of St Victor 125–126 rivers: caves 143, 144, 145–148, 146, 148, 152; islands in 111–112 see also Jordan; Nile roads 133 Robert of Knaresborough, saint 146, 146–148, 148 Robert of Molesme 174 Roche Rock, Cornwall 160 rocky outcrops 46, 128 Rohr, Richard 126 Rolle, Richard 121, 125, 178 Roman villas 53–54, 93 Rouen, France 184 Rule of St Benedict 56–57 Rule of St Paul 133, 134, 136 rules for hermits 56, 132–133 Ryōkan 29 Samson, saint 94, 112 Sanbutsu-ji, Japan 30, 30 sarabaites (small groups) 41, 56 Sarah, female hermit 41–42 satellite hermitages 74 Savigny, France 57 Scotland: caves 90–92, 91–92; Columban hermitages 82–83; islands 83–85, 84–87, 87–90, 89 (see also Iona; Shetland); location and landscape 92; peninsulas 63, 90 sea routes 80 Second, saint 58–59 secular hermits 186–188 see also ornamental hermits

202

Index

Sedgeford, Norfolk 173 Selborne, Hampshire 185, 186 semi-eremitic communities 44 settings 8–9, 70–71 Severn River 144 Severus Sulpicius, Vita Sancti Martini 52–53 Sgorr Nam Ban-naomha, Canna, Highland 88–89, 89 Sheikh Said, Egypt 39–40 Shere, Surrey 170 ships 80 Shitou 29 shoes 134 shrines 74, 75–76, 87 Shugendo 30, 30 silence 4, 126 Silk Road 34–35 Simeon Stylites, saint 43, 45, 45 Sisters of the Love of God 189 Sitwell, Edith, English Eccentrics 186–187 Skellig Michael, Co. Kerry: hermitage 62, 71, 72–73, 73–74; sense of space 129; visual networks 75, 75, 131–132 Skipton, North Yorkshire 170 sky 130–131 Smith, Ken 188 Smithfield Decretals 134–135, 136 Snorri Sturluson, Heimskringla Saga 98 soil, imported 87 solitude 4, 7–8, 11–12, 33, 51, 120–121, 193–194 see also conjugal solitude Somerset Levels 63, 113 Southstone Rock, Worcestershire 143 Sow River 111 Sozomen 46 Spain 176, 184 spatial divisions 70 spatial relationships 132 spiritual battlegrounds 39, 63 spiritual handbooks 124 spirituality, Christian 51–52 squints 168–170, 169, 172 śramaṇa movement 12–16 Sri Lanka 15, 21–22 St Andrew’s Island, Burton, Staffordshire 111 St Catherine’s Head, Isle of Wight 163, 163 St Catherine’s Hill, Winchester, Hampshire 131, 161 St Cuthbert’s Cave, Northumberland 104

St Cuthbert’s Island, Northumberland 103 St Govan’s Head, Pembrokeshire 96–97, 96–97 St Helen’s, Isles of Scilly, Cornwall 98–99 St Mary’s bridge chapel, Derby 161 St Ninian’s Cave, Dumfries & Galloway 91 St Ninian’s Isle, Shetland 62–63 St Patrick’s Purgatory, Co. Donegal 127 St Sampson, Golant, Cornwall 112 Star Wars locations see Skellig Michael, Co. Kerry Stoke, Devon 112–113 Stowe, Buckinghamshire 184, 185 Strabo 16 Stratford-sub-Castle, Wiltshire 167, 168–169 Strathchailleach, Sutherland 188 Stukeley, William 109 stylites 43, 44–45, 45 Subiaco, Italy 55, 55 Syncletica of Alexandria 33, 194 Syria 44–45 Taoism 25–26 Tarbat, Highland 63, 90 Taxila, Pakistan 16 Teān, Isles of Scilly, Cornwall 99 Tell el-Amarna, Egypt 39 Theodoret of Cyrrhus 45 Theraputae 35 thin places 128, 129 Thoreau, Henry David, Walden 187 three martyrdoms 65 Tibet 31 timber structures: Glastonbury Tor 113–114; Ireland 70; Japan 29, 30, 30; Scotland 88; Wales 95 see also huts Tiree, Argyll & Bute 88 tombs, re-use of 39–40 tower hermitages 162 see also lighthouse hermitages towns see urban areas trade routes 34–35, 80 transformative experiences 120, 121 Trent River 111, 143 Turkey 46–47 urban areas: caves 148–151, 149–152, 153, 154–155, 155; disused buildings 161; friaries 176; hermits’ duties 161; relationships with 132, 133

Index 203 vernacular literature 124 villas 53–54, 93 visual networks 75, 131–132 Vita Sancti Cuthberti 103 Vita Sancti Samsonis 112 Vitalis of Savigny 57 Wales 93–97; archaeological remains, lack of 93; caves 96–97, 96–97; islands 93–96, 94–95; Roman Christianity in 93 walking meditation 18 wall hermitages 162 wall paintings 134, 135, 159 wandering monks 51–52, 56–57 Warkworth, Northumberland 156, 157–158, 158–159, 183–184 Warwick see Guy’s Cliffe, Warwick, Warwickshire White, Henry 185, 186 White Monastery, Sohag, Egypt 44 wilderness 38–39, 65, 67–68 Wilgils 107

William of Malmesbury 63 Williams, Rowan 7 Willingham, Cambridgeshire 170 Winchester, Hampshire 162, 176 see also St Catherine’s Hill Winforton, Herefordshire 111–112 Wolfe, Robert 187–188 women 41–42, 166–167, 174, 189–190 wood see timber structures Worcester, William 156 work of hermits 133, 137, 161, 182, 189–190 Wrighte, William, Grotesque Architecture or Rural Amusement 186, 187 Wye River 111–112 Xeniteia (state of being a stranger or foreigner) 38 Yamabushi hermits 30 Zen Buddhism 29–30