The Catholic World Volume Iii Part 24

He lived to become the friend of Charlemagne, and next to his venerable master was the greatest scholar and divine in Europe; he died about the year 790. John a.s.ser, a native of Pembrokes.h.i.+re, is another of these worthies. It is supposed that Alfred endowed Oxford with professors, and settled stipends upon them, under his influence, he being invited to the court of that monarch for his great learning.

He wrote a "Commentary" upon Boethius de Consolatione Philosophiae, the "Life of King Alfred," and the "Annals of Great Britain." St.

Dunstan, a monk of Glas...o...b..ry, the best known of all these great Englishmen, died Archbishop of Canterbury; but as we shall have much to say of him hereafter we pa.s.s on to St. Ethelwold, his pupil, also a monk at Glas...o...b..ry, distinguished for his learning and piety, for which he was made abbot of the Monastery of Abingdon, where he died in the year 984. Ingulphus, a native of London, was made Abbot of Croyland, in Lincolns.h.i.+re, in the year 1075. A history of the abbey over which he presided has been attributed to him, but its authenticity has been gravely disputed. Alfric, a noted grammarian.

Florence, of Worcester, was another great annalist, who in his "Chronicon ex Chronici" brings the history down to the year 1119, that in which he died; his book is chiefly valuable as a key to the "Saxon Chronicle." William, the renowned monk of Malmesbury, the most elegant of all the monastic Latinists, was born about the time of the Norman Conquest. His history consists of two parts, the "Gesta Regum Anglorum," in five books, including the period between the arrival of the Saxons and the year 1120. The "Historia Novella," in three books, brings it down to the year 1142. He ranks next to Bede as an historic writer, most of the others being mere compilers and selectors from extant chronicles. He also wrote a work on the history of the English bishops, called "De Gestis Pontific.u.m Anglorum," in which he speaks out fearlessly and without sparing: also a treatise on the antiquity of Glas...o...b..ry Abbey, "De Antiquitate Glastoniensis Ecclesiae;" his style is most interesting, and he is supposed to have written impartially, separating the improbable from the real, and gives us what can readily be appreciated as a fair and real picture of the state of things, more especially of the influence and policy of the Norman court, and the opening of the struggle between the two races.

Eadmer was another contemporaneous celebrity with William of Malmesbury; he was the author of a history of his own times, called "Historia Novorum sive Sui Secula," which is spoken of very highly by William of Malmesbury; it contains the reigns of William the Conqueror and Rufus, and a portion of that of Henry I., embracing a period extending from 1066 to 1122. Matthew Paris, another historian who lived about the year 1259, closes our selection from the long list of British worthies who were members of the Benedictine order.

When we reflect that all the other monastic systems, not only of the past, but even of the present day, are but modifications of this same rule, and that it emanated from the brain, and is the embodiment of the genius of the solitary hermit of Monte Ca.s.sino, we are lost in astonishment at the magnitude of the results which have sprung from so simple an origin. That St. Benedict had any presentiment of the future glory of his order, there is no sign in his rule or his life. He was a great and good man, and he produced that comprehensive rule simply for the guidance of his own immediate followers, without a thought beyond.

But it was blessed, {169} and grew and prospered mightily in the world. He has been called the Moses of a favored people; and the comparison is not inapt, for he lead his order on up to the very borders of the promised country, and after his death, which, like that of Moses, took place within sight of their goal, they fought their way through the hostile wilds of barbarism, until those men who had conquered the ancient civilizations of Europe lay at their feet, bound in the fetters of spiritual subjection to the cross of Christ. The wild races of Scandinavia came pouring down upon southern Europe in one vast march of extermination, slaying and destroying as they advanced, sending before them the terror of that doom which might be seen in the desolation which lay behind them; but they fell, vanquished by the power of the army of G.o.d, who sallied forth in turn to reconquer the world, and fighting not with the weapons of fire and sword, but, like Christian soldiers, girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness, they subdued these wild races, who had crushed the conquerors of the earth, and rested not until they had stormed the stronghold, and planted the cross triumphantly upon the citadel of an ancient paganism. Time rolled on, and the gloom of a long age of darkness fell upon a world whose glory lay buried under Roman ruins. Science had gone, literature had vanished, art had flown, and men groped about in vain in that dense darkness for one ray of hope to cheer them in their sorrow. The castle of the powerful baron rose gloomily above them, and with s.p.a.cious moat, dense walls, and battlemented towers, frowned ominously upon the world which lay abject at its feet. In slavery men were born, and in slavery they lived. They pandered to the licentiousness and violence of him who held their lives in his hands, and fed them only to fight and fail at his bidding. But far away from the castle there arose another building, ma.s.sive, solid, and strong, not frowning with battlemented towers, nor isolated by broad moats; but with open gates, and a hearty welcome to all comers, stood the monastery, where lay the hope of humanity, as in a safe asylum. Behind its walls was the church, and cl.u.s.tered around it the dwelling-places of those who had left the world, and devoted their lives to the service of that church, and the salvation of their souls. Far and near in its vicinity the land bore witness to a.s.siduous culture and diligent care, bearing on its fertile bosom the harvest hope of those who had labored, which the heavens watered, the sun smiled upon, and the winds played over, until the heart of man rejoiced, and all nature was big with the promise of increase. This was the refuge to which religion and art had fled. In the quiet seclusion of its cloisters science labored at its problems and perpetuated its results, uncheered by applause and stimulated only by the pure love of the pursuit. Art toiled in the church, and whole generations of busy fingers worked patiently at the decoration of the temple of the Most High. The pale, thoughtful monk, upon whose brow genius had set her mark, wandered into the calm retirement of the library, threw back his cowl, buried himself in the study of philosophy, history, or divinity, and transferred his thoughts to vellum, which was to moulder and waste in darkness and obscurity, like himself in his lonely monk's grave, and be read only when the spot where he labored should be a heap of ruins, and his very name a controversy amongst scholars.

We should never lose sight of this truth, that in this building, when the world was given up to violence and darkness, was garnered up the hope of humanity; and these men who dwelt there in contemplation and obscurity were its faithful guardians--and this was more particularly the case with that great order whose foundation we {170} have been examining. The Benedictines were the depositaries of learning and the arts; they gathered books together, and reproduced them in the silence of their cells, and they preserved in this way not only the volumes of sacred writ, but many of the works of cla.s.sic lore. They started Gothic architecture--that matchless union of nature with art--they alone had the secrets of chemistry and medical science; they invented many colors; they were the first architects, artists, gla.s.s-stainers, carvers, and mosaic workers in mediaeval times. They were the original illuminators of ma.n.u.scripts, and the first transcribers of books; in fine, they were the writers, thinkers, and workers of a dark age, who wrote for no applause, thought with no encouragement, and worked for no reward. Their power, too, waxed mighty; kings trembled before their denunciations of tyranny, and in the hour of danger fled to their altars for safety; and it was an English king who made a pilgrimage to their shrines, and prostrate at the feet of five Benedictine monks, bared his back, and submitted himself to be scourged as a penance to his crimes.

Nearly fourteen hundred years have rolled by since the great man who founded this n.o.ble order died; and he who in after years compiled the "Saxon Chronicle" has recorded it in a simple sentence, which, amongst the many records of that doc.u.ment, we may at least believe, and with which we will conclude the chapter--"This year St. Benedict the Abbot, father of all monks, went to heaven."

From The Month.

SAINTS OF THE DESERT,

BY THE REV. J. H. NEWMAN, D.D.

1. Some old men came to Abbot Antony, who, to try their spirits, proposed to them a difficult pa.s.sage of Scripture.

As each in turn did his best to explain it, Antony said: "You have not hit it."

Till Abbot Joseph said: "I give it up."

Then cried Antony: "_He_ has. .h.i.t it; for he owns he does not know it."

2. When the Abbot a.r.s.enius was at the point of death, his brethren noted that he wept. They said then: "Is it so? art thou too afraid, O father?"

He answered: "It is so; and the fear that is now upon me has been with me ever since I became a monk."

And so he went to sleep.

3. Abbot Pastor said: "We cannot keep out bad thoughts, as we cannot stop the wind rus.h.i.+ng through the door; but we can resist them when they come."

4. Abbot Besarion said, when he was dying: "A monk ought to be all eye, as the cherubim and seraphim."

5. They asked Abbot Macarius how they ought to pray.

The old man made answer: "No need to be voluble in prayer; but stretch forth thy hands frequently, and say, 'Lord, as thou wilt, and as thou knowest, have mercy on me.' And if war is coming on, say, 'Help!' And he who himself knoweth what is expedient for thee, will show thee mercy."

6. On a festival, when the monks were at table, one cried out to the servers, "_I_ eat nothing dressed, so bring me some salt."

Blessed Theodore made reply: "My brother, better were it to have even secretly eaten flesh in thy cell than thus loudly to have refused it."

7. An old man said: "A monk's cell is that golden Babylonian furnace in which the Three Children found the Son of G.o.d."

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[ORIGINAL]

CHRISTINE:

A TROUBADOUR'S SONG,

IN FIVE CANTOS.

BY GEORGE H. MILES. [Footnote 34]

[Footnote 34: Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1886, by Lawrence Kehoe, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York.]

(Continued)

THE THIRD SONG.

I.

Fronting the vine-clad Hermitage,-- Its h.o.a.ry turrets mossed with age, Its walls with flowers and gra.s.s o'ergrown,-- A ruined Castle, throned so high Its battlements invade the sky, Looks down upon the rus.h.i.+ng Rhone.

From its tall summits you may see The sunward slopes of Cote Rotie With its red harvest's revelry; While eastward, midway to the Alpine snows, Soar the sad cloisters of the Grande Chartreuse.

And here, 'tis said, to hide his shame, The thrice accursed Pilate came; And here the very rock is shown.

Where, racked and riven with remorse, Mad with the memory of the Cross, He sprang and perished in the Rhone.

'Tis said that certain of his race Made this tall peak their dwelling place.

And built them there this castle keep To mark the spot of Pilate's leap.

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Full many the tale of terror told At eve, with changing cheek, By maiden fair and stripling bold, Of these dark keepers of the height And, most of all, of the Wizard Knight, The Knight of Pilate's Peak.

His was a name of terror known And feared through all Provence; Men breathed it in an undertone.

With quailing eye askance, Till the good Dauphin of Vienne, And Miolan's ancient Lord, One midnight stormed the robber den And gave them to the sword; All save the Wizard Knight, who rose In a flame-wreath from his dazzled foes; All save a child, with golden hair.