(A.D. 703.)
[Roman, Benedictine, and Anglican Martyrologies. Life from William
of Malmesbury, Bede's Homilies and Ecclesiastical History, Florence
of Worcester, Matthew of Westminster. The following account is
condensed from the life of S. Benedict Biscop, in Montalembert's
Monks of the West, Bk. xiii., c. 2.]
Benedict was born of the highest Anglo-Saxon nobility, in the year 628.
While he was still very young, he held an office in the household of
King Oswy. At twenty-five he gave up secular life, marriage, and his
family, restored his lands to the king, and dedicated himself to the
service of God. Before he settled in any community he went to Rome,
whither he had been long attracted by that desire of praying at the tomb
of the Apostles, which became so general among the Anglo-Saxons. He
started in company with S. Wilfrid, but the two young Northumbrian
nobles separated at Lyons. After his first visit to Rome, Benedict
returned thither a second and a third time, having in the meantime
assumed the monastic habit in the island of Lerins. Pope Vitalianus,
struck with the piety and knowledge of so constant and zealous a
pilgrim, assigned to him, as guide and interpreter, that Greek,
Theodore, who became Archbishop of Canterbury, and who, when he went to
England, transferred the monk of Lerins to be abbot of the principal
monastery in Canterbury.
After thus spending two years with the new Archbishop, the abbot
Benedict, instead of re-visiting his native district, went for the
fourth time to Rome, 671. He was then in the prime of life; but when it
is considered what were the difficulties and dangers of such a
journey--at such a time--when we remember that a journey from London to
Rome then took twice as long, and was a hundred times more dangerous
than a journey from London to Australia is now, we are amazed at the
energy which induced so many Anglo-Saxon monks, not once only, but many
times in their life, to cross the sea and the Alps on their way to Rome.
His fourth expedition was undertaken in the interests of literature. He
brought back a cargo of books, partly sold, partly given to him; and, in
passing by Vienne, the ancient capital of the Gauls, on his return, he
brought with him many more which he had deposited there in the charge of
his friends. When he returned at length to his native Northumbria, he
sought King Egfrid, the son of his former master, Oswy, then the
reigning monarch, and told him all he had done during the twenty years
that had passed since he left his country and the royal service. Then,
endeavouring to communicate to him the religious ardour with which his
own heart was filled, he explained to the King all he had learned at
Rome and elsewhere, of ecclesiastical and monastic discipline, showing
him the books and relics which he had brought back. Egfrid, who had not
yet begun his struggle with Wilfrid, allowed himself to be won by the
stories of the pilgrim, for whom he conceived a great affection; and in
order that he might apply his experience to the government of a new
community, he detached from his own possessions, and presented to
Benedict, an estate situated at the mouth of the Wear, a little stream
which flows through Durham, and throws itself into the Northern sea, a
little south of the Tyne.[40] This gave the name of Wearmouth to the new
monastery, which was dedicated to S. Peter, the Prince of the Apostles,
according to the express wish of Egfrid, in agreement with that of
Benedict, as an evidence of his leanings towards Rome.
This foundation was no sooner assured, than the unwearied Benedict took
ship again, to seek in France masons to build him a stone church, in the
Roman style, for everything that came from Rome was dear to him. The
church was carried on with so much energy, that, a year after the first
stone was laid, the church was roofed in, and mass was celebrated under
one of those stone arches which excited the surprise of the English in
the seventh century. He brought glass-makers also from France, for there
were none in England; and these foreign workmen, after having put glass
into the windows of the church and new monastery, taught their art to
the Anglo-Saxons. Animated by a zeal which nothing could discourage, and
inspired by intelligent patriotism, and a sort of passion for beauty in
art, which shrank neither from fatigue nor care, he sent to seek beyond
the seas all that he could not find in England--all that seemed
necessary to him for the ornamentation of his church; and not finding
even in France all he wanted, he went for the fifth time to Rome. Even
this was not his last visit, for some years later he made a sixth
pilgrimage. On both occasions he brought treasures back with him,
chiefly books in countless quantities, and of every kind. He was a
passionate collector, as has been seen, from his youth. He desired each
of his monasteries to possess a great library, which he considered
indispensable to the instruction, discipline, and good organization of
the community; and reckoned upon the books as the best means of
retaining his monks in their cloisters; for much as he loved travelling
himself, he did not approve of other monks passing their time on the
highways and byways, even under pretext of pilgrimages.
Along with the books he brought a great number of pictures and coloured
images. By introducing these images from Rome to Northumberland,
Benedict Biscop has written one of the most curious, and, at the same
time, forgotten pages in the history of art. The Venerable Bede, who
speaks with enthusiasm of the expeditions of his master and friend,
leads us to suppose that he brought back with him only portable
pictures, but it may be supposed that the abbot of Wearmouth brought
back with him both painters and mosaic-workers, to work on the spot at
the decoration of his churches. How can it be otherwise explained, how
pictures on wood, brought even by water from Rome to England, should
have been large enough to cover the walls and arches of the two or three
churches of which Bede speaks. However this may be, the result was that
the most ignorant of the Christians of Northumbria found, on entering
these new monastic churches, under a material form, the attractive image
of the instructions which the monastic missionaries lavished on them.
Learned and unlearned could contemplate and study with delight, we are
told, here the sweet and attractive form of the new-born Saviour, there
the Twelve Apostles surrounding the Blessed Virgin; upon the northern
wall all the parables of the Gospels; upon the southern, the visions of
the Apocalypse; elsewhere, a series of pictures which marked the harmony
between the Old and New Testaments; Isaac carrying the wood for his
sacrifice opposite to Jesus bearing His Cross; the brazen serpent
opposite Jesus crucified, and so on.[41] All these Bede, who had seen
them, describes with great delight.
After Latin and Greek books, after art, it was the turn of music. On his
return from his fifth voyage, Benedict brought back with him from Rome
an eminent monk, called John, precentor of S. Peter's, to establish at
Wearmouth the music and Roman ceremonies with entire exactitude. As soon
as he had arrived at Wearmouth, this learned abbot set out in writing
the order of the celebration of all feasts for all the year, of which he
soon circulated numerous copies. Then he opened classes, at which he
taught, _viva voce_, the liturgy and ecclesiastical chants. The best
singers of the Northumbrian monasteries came to listen to him, and
invited him to visit their communities.
The passionate zeal of Benedict for the building and decoration of his
monastic houses, did not make him forget the more essential interests of
his foundations. Before leaving Rome he took care to constitute his
community upon the immovable basis of the rule of S. Benedict. He
obtained from Pope Agatho a charter which guaranteed the liberty and
security of the new monastery of Wearmouth. In order to give Benedict a
new mark of sympathy, King Egfrid assigned to him another estate, near
to the first. This was the cradle of the monastery of Jarrow, the name
of which is inseparably linked with that of Bede. This monastery he
dedicated to S. Paul, and appointed one of his most intimate friends and
fellow pilgrims, Ceolfrid, abbot of the new foundation.
In order to be more at liberty to devote his time to travel, Benedict
took a coadjutor in the government of Wearmouth. This new abbot was his
nephew, Easterwin, his junior by twenty-two years, and like Biscop, of
high birth. The noble youth took pride in following minutely the rule of
the house, like any other monk. Thanks to his illustrious biographer, we
know what the occupations of a Saxon thane turned monk were in the
seventh century. His duties were to thrash and winnow the corn, to milk
the goats and cows, to take his turn in the kitchen, the bakehouse, and
the garden, always humble and joyous in his obedience. When he became
coadjutor, and was invested, in Biscop's absence, with all his
authority, the young abbot continued the course of communal life; and
when his duties as superior led him out of doors to where the monks
laboured in the fields, he set to work along with them, taking the
plough or the fan in his own hands, or forging iron upon the anvil. He
was robust as well as young and handsome; but his look was infinitely
gentle, and his conversation full of amiability. When he was compelled
to reprove a fault, it was done with such tender sadness that the
culprit felt himself incapable of any new offence which should bring a
cloud over the benign brightness of that beloved face. His table was
served with the same provisions as that of the monks; and he slept in
the general dormitory, which he left only five days before his death,
being then hopelessly ill, to prepare himself in a more solitary place,
for the last struggle. When he felt his end approaching, he had still
strength enough left to go down into the garden; and, seating himself
there, he called to him all his brethren, who wept the anticipated loss
of such a father. Then, with the tenderness which was natural to him, he
gave to each of them a last kiss. The following night (March 7th, 686)
he died, aged thirty-six, whilst the monks were singing matins. When
Benedict returned from his last expedition to Rome he found his
benefactor, King Egfrid, and his nephew, Easterwin, both dead, along
with a great number of his monks, carried off by one of the epidemics
then so frequent. The only survivors at Jarrow were the abbot and one
little scholar, whose fame was destined to eclipse that of all the Saxon
Saints and kings, who are scarcely known to posterity except by his
pen.[42]
Benedict Biscop did not lose courage, but promptly collected new
subjects under his sway, recommenced and pursued, with his habitual
energy, the decoration of his two churches of S. Peter and S. Paul. The
monks had already chosen as successor to Easterwin a deacon named
Sigfried, a learned and virtuous man, but affected with lung disease,
and the first of the English in whom history indicates a malady so
general and so fatal to their race.
Benedict's own turn was, however, soon to come. God preserved his life
to purify him, and put his patience to a long and cruel trial, before
calling him to his eternal recompense. After having devoted the first
thirteen years of his abbacy to the laborious and wandering life so dear
to him, and to those distant expeditions that produced so many fruits
for his order and his country, he was stricken with a cruel disease,
which lasted for three years, and paralysed all his members one after
the other. Though kept to his bed by his infirmity, and unable to follow
his brethren to the choir, he, notwithstanding, continued to celebrate
each service, both day and night, with certain of the monks, mingling
his feeble voice with theirs. At night his sleepless hours were consoled
by the reading of the Gospels, which was kept up without interruption by
a succession of priests. Often, too, he collected the monks and novices
round his couch, addressing to them urgent and solemn counsels, and
among other things begging them to preserve the great library which he
had brought from Rome, and not to allow it to be spoiled or dispersed;
but above all, to keep faithfully the rules which, after a careful study
of the seventeen principal monasteries which he had visited during his
journeys, he had collected for them. He also dwelt much upon the
injunction he had already often repeated, that they should pay no regard
to high birth in their choice of an abbot, but look simply to his life
and doctrine. "If I had to choose between two evils," said he, "I should
prefer to see the spot on which I have established our dear monastery
fall back into eternal solitude, rather than to be succeeded here by my
own brother, who, we all know, is not in the good way."
The strength of the abbot, and at the same time that of his poor
coadjutor, was by this time so exhausted by their respective diseases,
that they both perceived that they must die, and desired to see each
other for the last time before departing from this world. In order that
the wish of these two tender friends should be accomplished, it was
necessary to bring the dying coadjutor to the bed of the abbot. His head
was placed on the same pillow; but they were both so feeble that they
could not even embrace each other, and the help of brotherly hands was
necessary to join their lips. All the monks assembled in chapter round
this bed of suffering and love; and the two aged Saints, having pointed
out among them a successor, approved by all, breathed together, with a
short interval between, their last breath. Thus died, at the age of
sixty-two, S. Benedict of England, a worthy rival of the great patriarch
of the monks of the West, whose robe and name he bore.