small compass, a personal narrative of it. Through the clear
eyes and memory of Brother Samson, one peeps direct into the very
bosom of that Twelfth Century, and finds it rather curious. The
actual _Papa,_ Father, or universal President of Christendom, as
yet not grown chimerical, sat there; think of that only!
Brother Samson went to Rome as to the real Light-fountain of this
lower world; we now--!--But let us hear Brother Samson, as to
his mode of traveling:

'You know what trouble I had for that Church of Woolpit; how I
was despatched to Rome in the time of the Schism between Pope
Alexander and Octavian; and passed through Italy at that season,
when all clergy carrying letters for our Lord Pope Alexander were
laid hold of, and some were clapt in prison, some hanged; and
some, with nose and lips cut off, were sent forward to our Lord
the Pope, for the disgrace and confusion of him (_in dedecus et
confusionem ejus_). I, however, pretended to be Scotch, and
putting on the garb of a Scotchman, and taking the gesture of
one, walked along; and when anybody mocked at me, I would
brandish my staff in the manner of that weapon they call
_gaveloc,_* uttering comminatory words after the way of the
Scotch. To those that met and questioned me who I was, I made no
answer but: _Ride, ride Rome; turne Cantwereberei._ ** Thus did
I, to conceal myself and my errand, and get safer to Rome under
the guise of a Scotchman.

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* Javelin, missile pike. _Gaveloc_ is still the Scotch name for
_crowbar._