The Spread of the Benedictine Rule
It is generally held that Benedict had no presentiment of the vast historical importance of his system; and that he aspired to nothing beyond the salvation of his own soul and those of his brethren.
But the rule spread with wonderful rapidity. In every rich valley arose a Benedictine abbey. Britain, Germany, Scandinavia, France and Spain adopted his rule. Princes, moved by various motives, hastened to bestow grants of land on the indefatigable missionary who, undeterred by the wildness of the forest and the fierceness of the barbarian, settled in the remotest regions. In the various societies of the Benedictines there have been thirty-seven thousand monasteries and one hundred and fifty thousand abbots. For the space of two hundred and thirty-nine years the Benedictines governed the church by forty-eight popes chosen from their order. They boast of two hundred cardinals, seven thousand archbishops, fifteen thousand bishops and four thousand saints. The astonishing assertion is also made that no less than twenty emperors and forty-seven kings resigned their crowns to become Benedictine monks. Their convents claim ten empresses and fifty queens. Many of these earthly rulers retired to the seclusion of the monastery because their hopes had been crushed by political defeat, or their consciences smitten by reason of crime or other sins. Some were powerfully attracted by the heroic element of monastic life, and these therefore spurned the luxuries and emoluments of royalty, in order by personal sacrifice to achieve spiritual domination in this life, and to render their future salvation certain. But whatever the motive that drew queens and princes to the monastic order, the retirement of such large numbers of the nobility indicates the influence of a religious system which could cope so successfully with the attractions of the palace and the natural passion for political dominion.
Saint Gregory the Great, the biographer of Benedict, who was born at Rome in 540 A.D. and so was nearly contemporaneous with Benedict was a zealous promoter of the monastic ideal, and did as much as any one to advance its ecclesiastical position and influence. He founded seven monasteries with his paternal inheritance, and became the abbot of one of them. He often expressed a desire to escape the clamor of the world by retirement to a lonely cell. Inspired by the loftiest estimates of his holy office, he sought to reform the church in its spirit and life. Many of his innovations in the church service bordered upon a dangerous and glittering pomp; but the musical world will always revere his memory for the famous chants that bear his name.
Gregory surrounded himself with monks, and did everything in his power to promote their interests. He increased the novitiate to two years, and exempted certain monasteries from the control of the bishops. Other popes added to these exemptions, and thus widened the breach which already existed between the secular clergy and the monks. He also fixed a penalty of lifelong imprisonment for abandonment of the monastic life.
Under Gregory’s direction many missionary enterprises were carried on, notably that of Augustine to England. The story runs that one day Gregory saw some men and beautiful children from Britain put up for sale in the market-place. Deeply sighing, he exclaimed: “Alas for grief! That the author of darkness possesses men of so bright countenance, and that so great grace of aspect bears a mind void of inward grace!” He then asked the children the name of their nation. “Angles,” was the reply. “It is well,” he said, “for they have angelic faces. What is the name of your province?” It was answered, “Deira.” “Truly,” he said, “De-ira-ns, drawn from anger, and called to the mercy of Christ. How is your king called?” They answered, “Ælla, or Ella.” Then he cried “Alleluia! it behooves that the praise of God the Creator should be sung in those parts.” While it is hard to accept this evidently fanciful story in its details, it seems quite probable that the sale of some English slaves in a Roman market drew the attention of Gregory to the needs of Britain.
Some years afterwards, in 596, Gregory commissioned Augustine, prior of the monastery of St. Andrew’s on the Celian Hill, at Rome, with forty companions, to preach the gospel in Britain. When this celebrated missionary landed on the island of Thanet, he found monasticism had preceded him. But what was the nature of this British monasticism? On that question Rome and England are divided.
The Romanist declares that no country received the Christian faith more directly from the Church of Rome than did England; that the most careful study of authentic records reveals no doctrinal strife, no diversity of belief between the early British monks and the Pope of Rome; that St. Patrick, of Ireland, and St. Columba, of Scotland, were loyal sons of their Roman mother.
The Anglican, on the other hand, believes that Christianity was introduced into Britain independently of Rome. As to the precise means employed, he has his choice of ten legends. He may hold with Lane that it is reasonable to suppose one of Paul’s ardent converts, burning with fervent zeal, led the Britons to the cross. Or he may argue with others: “What is more natural than to imagine that Joseph of Arimathea, driven from Palestine, sailed away to Britain.” In proof of this assumption, we are shown the chapel of St. Joseph, the remains of the oldest Christian church, where the holy-thorn blossoms earlier than in any other part of England. Many Anglicans wisely regard all this as legendary. It is also held that St. Patrick and St. Columba were not Romanists, but represented a type of British Christianity, which, although temporarily subjected to Rome, yet finally threw off the yoke under Henry VIII. and reasserted its ancient independence. Still others declare that when Augustine was made archbishop, the seat of ecclesiastical authority was transferred from Rome to Canterbury, and the English church became an independent branch of the universal church. It was Catholic, but not Roman.
The difficulty of ascertaining when and by whom Christianity was originally introduced into southern Britain must be apparent to every student. But some things may be regarded as historically certain. The whole country had been desolated by war when Augustine arrived. For a hundred and fifty years the brutality and ignorance of the barbarians had reigned supreme. All traces of Roman civilization had nearly disappeared with the conquest of the heathen Anglo-Saxons. Whatever may be thought about the subsequent effects of the triumph of Roman Christianity, it is due to Rome to recognize the fact that with the coming of the Roman missionaries religion and knowledge began a new life.
The Anglo-Saxons had destroyed the Christian churches and monasteries, whose origin, as we have seen, is unknown. They drove away or massacred the priests and monks. Christianity was practically extirpated in those districts subject to the Germanic yoke. But when Augustine landed British monks were still to be found in various obscure parts of the country, principally in Ireland and Wales. Judging from what is known of these monks, it is safe to say that their habits and teachings were based on the traditions of an earlier Christianity, and that originally British Christianity was independent of Rome.
The monks in Britain at the time when Augustine landed differed from the Roman monks in their tonsures, their liturgy, and the observance of Easter, although no material difference in doctrine can be established. The clergy did not always observe the law of celibacy nor perhaps the Roman rules of baptism. It is also admitted, even by Catholic historians, that the British monks refused to acknowledge Augustine their archbishop; that this question divided the royal family; and that the old British church was not completely subdued until Henry II. conquered Ireland and Wales. These statements are practically supported by Ethelred L. Taunton, an authoritative writer, whose sympathy with Roman monasticism is very strong. He thinks that a few of the British monks submitted to Augustine, but of the rest he says: “They would not heed the call of Augustine, and on frivolous pretexts refused to acknowledge him.” A large body of British monks retired to the monastery of Bangor, and when King Ethelfrid invaded the district of Wales, he slew twelve hundred of them in the open field as they were upon their knees praying for the success of the Britons. It was then that the power of the last remnants of Celtic or British Christianity was practically broken, and the Roman type henceforth gradually acquired the mastery.
Montalembert says: “In no other country has Catholicism been persecuted with more sanguinary zeal; and, at the same time, none has greater need of her care.” While the latter observation is open to dispute, it is certainly true that England has never remained quiet under the dominion of Rome. Goldsmith’s tribute to the English character suggests a reasonable explanation of this historic fact:
“Stern o’er each bosom reason holds her state,
Fierce in their native hardiness of soul,
True to imagined right, above control,
While even the peasant boasts those rights to scan,
And learns to venerate himself as man.”
The fact to be remembered, as we emerge from these ecclesiastical quarrels and the confusions of this perplexing history, is that the monks were the intellectual and religious leaders of those days. They exercised a profound influence upon English society, and had much to do with the establishment of English institutions.
But, on the other hand, the continent is indebted to England for the gift of many noble monks who served France and Germany as intellectual and moral guides, at a time when these countries were in a state of extreme degradation. Boniface, the Apostle to the Germans, who is regarded by Neander as the Father of the German church and the real founder of the Christian civilization of Germany, was the gift of the English cloisters, and a native of Devonshire. Alcuin, the ecclesiastical prime minister of Charlemagne and the greatest educator of his time, was born and trained in England. Nearly all the leading schools of France were founded or improved by this celebrated monk. It was largely due to Alcuin’s unrivaled energy and splendid talents that Charlemagne was able to make so many and so glorious educational improvements in his empire.
Notable among the men who introduced the Benedictine rule into England was St. Wilfred (634-709 A.D.), who had traveled extensively in France and Italy, and on his return carried the monastic rule into northern Britain. He also is credited with establishing a course of musical training in the English monasteries. He was the most active prelate of his age in the founding of churches and monasteries, and in securing uniformity of discipline and harmony with the Church of Rome.
One of the most famous monastic retreats of those days was the wild and lonely isle of Iona, the Mecca of monks and the monastic capital of Scotland. It is a small island, three miles long and one broad, lying west of Scotland. Many kings of Scotland were crowned here on a stone which now forms a part of the British coronation chair. Its great monastery enjoyed the distinction from the sixth to the eighth century of being second to none in its widespread influence in behalf of the intellectual life of Europe.
This monastery was originally founded in the middle of the sixth century by Columba, the Apostle to Caledonia, an Irish saint actively associated with a wonderful intellectual awakening. The rule of the monastery is unknown, but it is probable that it could not have been, at the first, of the Benedictine type. Columba’s followers traveled as missionaries and teachers to all parts of Europe, and it is said, they dared to sail in their small boats even as far as Iceland.
Dr. Johnson says in his “Tour to the Hebrides”: “We are now treading that illustrious island which was once the luminary of the Caledonian regions, whence savage clans and roving barbarians derived the benefits of knowledge and the blessing of religion. That man is little to be envied whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plain of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of Iona.” The monastery which Columba founded here was doubtless of the same character as the establishments in Ireland. Many of these Celtic buildings were made of the branches of trees and supported by wooden props. It was some time before properly-constructed wooden churches or monasteries became general in these wild regions. In such rude huts small libraries were collected and the monks trained to preach. Ireland was then the center of knowledge in the North. Greek, Latin, music and such science as the monks possessed were taught to eager pupils. Copies of their manuscripts are still to be found all over Europe. Their schools were open to the rich and poor alike. The monks went from house to house teaching and distributing literature. As late as the sixteenth century, students from various parts of the Continent were to be found in these Irish schools.
There is an interesting story related of Columba’s literary activities. It is said that on one occasion while visiting his master, Finnian, he undertook to make a clandestine copy of the abbot’s Psalter. When the master learned of the fact, he indignantly charged Columba with theft, and demanded the copy which he had made, on the ground that a copy made without permission of the author was the property of the original owner, because a transcript is the offspring of the original work. Putnam, to whom I am indebted for this story, says: “As far as I have been able to ascertain, this is the first instance which occurs in the history of European literature of a contention for a copyright.” The conflict for this copyright afterwards developed into a civil war. The copy of the Latin Psalter “was enshrined in the base of a portable altar as the national relic of the O’Donnell clan,” and was preserved by that family for thirteen hundred years. It was placed on exhibition as late as 1867, in the museum of the Royal Irish Academy.
Enough has now been said to enable the reader to understand something of the spirit and labors of the monks in an age characteristically barbaric. For five centuries, from the fifth to the tenth, the condition of Europe was deplorable. “It may be doubted,” says an old writer, “whether the worst of the Cæsars exceeded in dark malignity, or in capriciousness of vengeance, the long-haired kings of France.” The moral sense of even the most saintly churchmen seems to have been blunted by familiarity with atrocities and crimes. Brute force was the common method of exercising control and administering justice. The barbarians were bold and independent, but cruel and superstitious. Their furious natures needed taming and their rude minds tutoring. Even though during this period churches and monasteries were raised in amazing numbers, yet the spirit of barbarism was so strong that the Christians could scarcely escape its influence. The power of Christianity was modified by the nature of the people, whose characters it aimed to transform. The remarks of William Newton Clarke respecting the Christians of the first and second centuries are also appropriate to the period under review: “The people were changed by the new faith, but the new faith was changed by the people.” Christianity “made a new people, better than it found them, but they in turn made a new Christianity, with its strong points illustrated and confirmed in their experience, but with weakness brought in from their defects.”
Yes, the work of civilizing the Germanic nations was a task of herculean proportions and of tremendous significance. Out of these tribes were to be constructed the nations of modern Europe. To this important mission the monks addressed themselves with such courage, patience, faith and zeal, as to entitle them to the veneration of posterity. With singular wisdom and unflinching bravery they carried on their missionary and educational enterprises, in the face of discouragements and obstacles sufficient to dismay the bravest souls. The tenacious strength of those wild forces that clashed with the tenderer influences of the cloister should soften our criticism of the inconsistencies which detract from the glory of those early ministers of righteousness and exemplars of gentleness and peace.