, by
Ethelred, king of Mercia. Many years before, when he was striving for the
crown of that kingdom, his cousin, Crobrid, who then enjoyed it, pursued
him with unremitting enmity; and worn out, spiritless and exhausted, the
royal wanderer sought refuge in the hermit's cell. The holy man comforted
him with every assurance of success; and prophesied that he would soon
obtain his rights without battle or without bloodshed;[215] in return for
these brighter prospects, and these kind wishes, Ethelred promised to
found a monastery on that very spot in honor of God and St. Guthlac,
which promise he faithfully fulfilled in the year 716, and "thus the
wooden oratory was followed by a church of stone." Succeeding benefactors
endowed, and succeeding abbots enriched it with their learning; and as
years rolled by so it grew and flourished till it became great in wealth
and powerful in its influence. But a gloomy day approached--the Danes
destroyed that noble structure, devastating it by fire, and besmearing
its holy altars with the blood of its hapless inmates. But zealous piety
and monkish perseverance again restored it, with new and additional
lustre; and besides adding to the splendor of the edifice, augmented its
internal comforts by forming a library of considerable importance and
value. We may judge how dearly they valued a _Bibliotheca_ in those old
days by the contribution of one benevolent book-lover--Egebric, the
second abbot of that name, a man whom Ingulphus says was "far more
devoted to sacred learning and to the perusal of books than skilled in
secular matters,"[216] gladdened the hearts of the monks with a handsome
library, consisting of forty original volumes in various branches of
learning, and more than one hundred volumes of different tracts and
histories,[217] besides eighteen books for the use of the divine offices
of the church. Honor to the monk who, in the land of dearth, could amass
so bountiful a provision for the intellect to feed upon; and who
encouraged our early literature--when feeble and trembling by the renewed
attacks of rapacious invaders--by such fostering care.

In the eleventh century Croyland monastery was doomed to fresh
misfortunes; a calamitous fire, accidental in its origin, laid the fine
monastery in a heap of ruins, and scattered its library in blackened
ashes to the winds.[218] A sad and irreparable loss was that to the
Norman monks and to the students of Saxon history in modern times; f