Few lives afford less material for the biographer than Bede's; few seem
to possess a more irresistible fascination. Often as the simple story has
been told, the desire to tell it afresh appears to be perennial. And yet
it is perhaps as wholly devoid of incident as any life could be. The short
autobiographical sketch at the end of the "Ecclesiastical History"
tells us practically all: that he was born in the territory of the twin
monastery of Wearmouth and Jarrow; that at the age of seven he was sent
by his kinsfolk to be brought up, first under the Abbot Benedict, afterwards
under Ceolfrid; that in his nineteenth year (the canonical age was twenty-five)
he was admitted to the diaconate, and received priest's orders in his thirtieth
year, in both instances at the hands of John, Bishop of Hexham, and by order
of the Abbot Ceolfrid; that he spent his whole life in the monastery in
learning, in teaching, and in writing, and in the observance of the monastic
rule and attendance at the daily services of the Church. Of his family we
know nothing; the name Beda appears to have been not uncommon. The fact
that he was handed over by kinsmen ("cura propinquorum") to Abbot
Benedict would seem to imply that he was an orphan when he entered the monastery
at the age of seven, but it was not unusual for parents to dedicate their
infant children to the religious life, in many cases even at an earlier
age than Bede's. We may compare the story of the little boy, Aesica, at
Barking, related by Bede, and of Elfied, the daughter of Oswy, dedicated
by her father before she was a year old.
The epithet "Venerable," commonly attached to his name, has given
rise to more than one legend. It was apparently first applied to him in
the ninth century, and is said to have been an appellation of priests. The
best known of these legends is Fuller's story of a certain "dunce monk"
who set about writing Bede's epitaph, and being unable to complete the verse,
"Hic sunt in fossa Bedae . . . ossa," went to bed with his task
unfinished. Returning to it in the morning, he found that an angel had filled
the gap with the word "venerabilis."Another account tells how
Bede, in his old age, when his eyes were dim, was induced by certain "mockers"
to preach, under the mistaken belief that the people were assembled to hear
him. As he ended his sermon with a solemn invocation of the Trinity, the
angels (in one version it is the stones of a rocky valley) responded "Amen,
very venerable Bede."
The land on which Bede was born was granted by Egfrid to Benedict Biscop
for the foundation of the monasteries a short time after the birth of Bede.
Wearmouth was founded in 674, Jarrow in 681 or 682. Bede was among those
members of the community who were transferred to Jarrow under Abbot Ceolfrid,
and under his rule and that of his successor, Huaetbert, he passed his life.
With regard to the chief dates, the authorities differ, Simeon of Durham
and others placing his birth as late as 677. Bede himself tells us that
he was in his fifty-ninth year when he wrote the short autobiography at
the end of the History. That work was finished in 731, and there
seems to be no good reason to suppose that the autobiographical sketch was
written at a later time. We may infer then that he was born in 673, that
he was ordained deacon in 691 and priest in 702. For his death, 735,
the date given in the "Continuation," seems to be supported by
the evidence of the letter of Cuthbert to Cuthwin (v. infra). From
this it appears that he died on a Wednesday, which nevertheless is called
Ascension Day, implying, doubtless, that his death occurred on the eve,
after the festival had begun, according to ecclesiastical reckoning. It
is further explained that Ascension Day was on the 26th of May ("VII
Kal. Junii") which was actually the case in the year 735.
Beyond the testimony borne to his exceptional diligence as a student in
a letter from Alcuin to the monks of Wearmouth and Jarrow, we hear nothing
of his childhood and early youth. One anecdote in the Anonymous History
of the Abbots may perhaps refer to him, though no name is given. It tells
how, when the plague of 686 devastated the monastery, the Abbot Ceolfrid,
for lack of fit persons to assist at the daily offices, decided to recite
the psalms without antiphons, except at vespers and matins. But after a
week's trial, unable to bear it any longer, he restored the antiphons to
their proper place, and with the help of one little boy carried on the services
in the usual manner. This little boy is described as being, at the time
the History was written, a priest of that monastery who "duly, both
by his words and writings, commends the Abbot's praiseworthy deeds to all
who seek to know them," and he has generally been supposed to be Bede.
In the "Ecclesiastical History" (IV, 3) there is an allusion to
Bede's teachers, one of whom, Trumbert, educated at Lastingham under Ceadda,
is mentioned by name. The monastery of Wearmouth and Jarrow must have offered
exceptional facilities for study. Benedict had enriched it with many treasures
which he brought with him from his travels. Chief among these was the famous
library which he founded and which was enlarged by Abbot Ceolfrid. Here
Bede acquired that wide and varied learning revealed in his historical,
scientific, and theological works. He studied with particular care and reverence
the patristic writings; his theological treatises were, as he says, "compiled
out of the works of the venerable Fathers." He must have had a considerable
knowledge of Greek, probably he knew some Hebrew. Though he is not wholly
free from the mediaeval churchman's distrust of pagan authors, he constantly
betrays his acquaintance with them, and the sense of form which must unconsciously
influence the student of classical literature has passed into his own writings
and preserved him from the barbarism of monkish Latin. His style is singularly
clear, simple, and fluent, as free from obscurity as from affectation and
bombast.
Thus was the foundation laid of that sound learning upon which his widespread
influence both as a teacher and writer was reared. "I always took delight,"
he tells us, "in learning, or teaching, or writing." Probably
his writing was, as is so often the case, the outcome of his teaching; his
object in both is to meet "the needs of the brethren." One of
his pupils was Archbishop Egbert, the founder of the school of York, which
gave a fresh impulse to learning, not only in England, but through Alcuin
in France, at a time when a revival was most to be desired.
It was to Egbert that he paid one of the only two visits which he records.
In the "Epistola ad Ecgbertum" he alludes to a short stay he had
made with him the year before, and declines, on account of the illness which
proved to be his last, an invitation to visit him again. He visited Lindisfarne
in connection with his task of writing the life of Cuthbert. Otherwise we
have no authentic record of any absence from the monastery. The story that
he went to Rome at the request of Pope Sergius, founded on a statement of
William of Malmesbury, is now regarded as highly improbable. The oldest
MS. of the letter of Sergius, requesting Ceolfrid to send one of his monks
to Rome, has no mention of the name of Bede. If such an event had ever disturbed
his accustomed course of life, it is inconceivable that he should nowhere
allude to it. Still less is the assertion that he lived and taught at Cambridge
one which need be seriously debated by the present generation. We may fairly
assume that, except for a few short absences such as the visits to York
and Lindisfarne, his whole life was spent in the monastery. It must have
been a life of unremitting toil. His writings, numerous.as they are, covering
a wide range of subjects and involving the severest study, can only have
been a part of his work; he had, besides, his duties as priest, teacher,
and member of a religious community to fulfil. Even the manual labour of
his literary work must have been considerable. He did not employ an amanuensis,
and he had not the advantages with regard to copyists which a member of
one of the larger monasteries might have had. "Ipse mihi dictator simul
notarius (= shorthand writer) et librarius (= copyist)," he writes.
Yet he never flags. Through all the outward monotony of his days his own
interest remains fresh. He "takes delight" ("dulce habui")
in it all. It is a life full of eager activity in intellectual things, of
a keen and patriotic interestin the wider life beyond the monastery walls,
which shows itself sadly enough in his reflections on the evils of the times,
of the ardent charity which spends itself in labour for the brethren, and,
pervading the whole, that spirit of quiet obedience and devotion which his
own simple words describe as "the observance of monastic rule and the
daily charge of singing in the Church." We can picture him, at the
appointed hours, breaking off his absorbing occupations to take his place
at the daily offices, lest, as he believed, he should fail to meet the angels
there. Alcuin records a saying of his, "I know that angels visit the
canonical hours and the congregations of the brethren. What if they do not
find me among the brethren? May they not say, 'Where is Bede?'"
It is probably here, in this harmony of work and devotion, that we may find
the secret of the fascination in the record of his uneventful days. It reconciles
the sharp antithesis between the active and the contemplative life. It seems
to attain to that ideal of "toil unsever'd from tranquillity"
which haunts us all, but which we have, almost ceased to associate with
the life of man under present conditions. Balance, moderation, or rather,
that rare quality which has been well called "the sanity of saintliness,"
these give a unity to the life of Bede and preserve him from the exaggerations
of the conventual ideal. With all his admiration for the ascetic life, he
recognizes human limitations. It is cheering to find that even he felt the
need of a holiday."Having completed," he writes, "the third
book of the Commentary on Samuel, I thought I would rest awhile, and, after
recovering in that way my delight in study and writing, proceed to take
in hand the fourth." Intellectual power commands his homage, but his
mind is open to the appreciation of all forms of excellence. It is the unlearned
brother, unfit for study and occupied in manual labour, to whom, in his
story, it is vouchsafed to hear the singing of the angels who came to summon
Ceadda to his rest. The life of devotion ranks highest in his estimation,
but he records with approval how St. Cuthbert thought "that to afford
the weak brethren the help of his exhortation stood in the stead of prayer,
knowing that He Who said 'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God,' said likewise,
'Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.'" He tells us how St. Gregory
bewailed his own loss in being forced by his office to be entangled in worldly
affairs. "But," adds the human-hearted biographer, "it behoves
us to believe that he lost nothing of his monastic perfection by reason
of his pastoral charge, but rather that he gained greater profit through
the labour of converting many, than by the former calm of his private life."
Yet he holds that this immunity from the evil influence of the world was
chiefly due to Gregory's care in organizing his house like a monastery and
safeguarding the opportunities for prayer and devotional study, even while
he was immersed in affairs at the court of Constantinople, and afterwards,
when he held the most onerous office in the Church.
This quality of sanity shows itself again in an unusual degree of fairness
to opponents. The Paschal error, indeed, moves his indignation in a manner
which is incomprehensible and distasteful to the modern reader, but even
in the perverse and erring Celts he can recognize "a zeal of God, though
not according to knowledge." Aidan's holiness of life wins from him
a warm tribute of admiration. In the monks of lona, the stronghold of the
Celtic system, he can perceive the fruit of good works and find an excuse
for their error in their isolated situation. In the British Church it is
the lack of missionary zeal, rather than their attitude towards the Easter
question, which calls forth his strongest condemnation.
A characteristic akin to this is his love of truth. As a historian, it shows
itself in his scrupulous care in investigating evidence and in acknowledging
the sources from which he draws. Nowhere is his intellectual honesty more
apparent than in dealing with what he believes to be the miraculous element
in his history. In whatever way we may regard these anecdotes, there can
be no doubt that Bede took the utmost pains to assure himself of their authenticity.
He is careful to acquire, if possible, first-hand evidence; where this cannot
be obtained, he scrupulously mentions the lack of it. He admits only the
testimony of witnesses of high character and generally quotes them by name.
These are but a few of the glimpses afforded us of the personality of Bede,
a personality never obtruded, but everywhere unconsciously revealed in his
work. Everywhere we find the impress of a mind of wide intellectual grasp,
a character of the highest saintliness, and a gentle refinement of thought
and feeling. The lofty spirituality of Bede, his great learning and scholarly
attainment are the more striking when we reflect how recently his nation
had emerged from barbarism and received Christianity and the culture which
it brought with it to these shores.
The letter in which he declines Egbert's invitation on the plea of illness
is dated November, 734. If we may assume that his death took place on the
eve of Ascension Day in 735, no long period of enfeebled health clouded
the close of his life, and weakness never interrupted his work. His death
has been described by his pupil, Cuthbert, who afterwards became Abbot of
Wearmouth and Jarrow in succession to Huaetbert, in the letter quoted below.
He was first buried at Jarrow but, according to Simeon of Durham, his relics
were stolen by the priest, Elfred, and carried to Durham. In 1104, when
the bones of Cuthbert were translated to the new Cathedral, those of Bede
were found with them. Not long after, Hugh de Puisac erected a shrine of
gold and silver, adorned with jewels, in which he placed them, along with
the relics of many other saints. The shrine disappeared at the Reformation,
and only the stone on which it rested remains. Letter of Cuthbert to Cuthwin. "To
his fellow-lector, Cuthwin, beloved in Christ, Cuthbert, his fellow-student,
greeting and salvation for ever in the Lord. I have very gladly received
the gift which thou sentest to me, and with much joy have read thy devout
and learned letter, wherein I found that which I greatly desired, to wit,
that masses and holy prayers are diligently offered by you for our father
and master Bede, beloved of God. Wherefore I rejoice, rather for love of
him than from confidence in my own power, to relate in few words after what
manner he departed out of this world, understanding also that thou hast
desired and asked this of me. He was troubled with weakness and chiefly
with difficulty in breathing, yet almost without pain, for about a fortnight
before the day of our Lord's Resurrection; and thus he afterwards passed
his time, cheerful and rejoicing, giving thanks to Almighty God every day
and night, nay, every hour, till the day of our Lord's Ascension, to wit,
the twenty-sixth day of May, and daily gave lessons to us, his disciples;
and whatsoever remained of the day he spent in singing psalms, as far as
hewas able; he also strove to pass all the night joyfully in prayer and
thanksgiving to God, save only when a short sleep prevented it; and then
he no sooner awoke than he straightway began again to repeat the well-known
sacred songs, and ceased not to give thanks to God with uplifted hands.
I declare with truth that I have never seen with my eyes, or heard with
my ears, any man so earnest in giving thanks to the living God. O truly
blessed man! He repeated the words of St. Paul the Apostle, 'It is a fearful
thing to fall into the hands of the living God,'and much more out of Holy
Scripture; wherein also he admonished us to think of our last hour, and
to arise out of the sleep of the soul; and being learned in our native poetry,
he said also in our tongue, concerning the dread parting of souls from the
body:
Fore then neidfaerae
naenig uiuurthit
thonc suotturra
than him tharf sie
to ymb hycggannae
aer his hin iongae
huaet his gastae
godaes aeththa yflaes
aefter deothdaege
doemid uueorthae
Which being interpreted is: 'Before the inevitable journey hence, no man
is wiser than is needful that he may consider, ere the soul departs, what
good or evil it hath done and how it shall be judged after its departure.'
"He also sang antiphons for our comfort and his own. One
of these is, 'O King of Glory, Lord of all power, Who, triumphing this
day, didst ascend above all the heavens, leave us not comfortless, but
send to us the promise of the Father, even the Spirit of Truth Hallelujah.'
And when he came to the words, 'leave us not comfortless,' he burst into
tears and wept much. And an hour after, he fell to repeating what he had
begun. And this he did the whole day, and we, hearing it, mourned with
him and wept. Now we read and now we lamented, nay, we wept even as we
read. In such rapture we passed the fifty days' festival till the aforesaid
day; and he rejoiced greatly and gave God thanks, because he had been
accounted worthy to suffer such weakness. And he often said, 'God scourgeth
every son whom He receiveth; and the words of St. Ambrose, 'I have not
so lived as to be ashamed to live among you; but neither do I fear to
die, because we have a merciful Lord.' And during those days, besides
the lessons we had daily from him, and the singing of the Psalms, there
were two memorable works, which he strove to finish; to wit, his translation
of the Gospel of St. John, from the beginning, as far as the words, 'But
what are they among so many?'into our own tongue, for the benefit of the
Church of God; and some selections from the books of Bishop Isidore, saying,
'I would not have my boys read a lie, nor labour herein without profit
after my death.'
"When the Tuesday before the Ascension of our Lord came, he began
to suffer still more in his breathing, and there was some swelling in
his feet. But he went on teaching all that day and dictating cheerfully,
and now and then said among other things, 'Learn quickly, I know not how
long I shall endure, and whether my Maker will not soon take me away.'
But to us it seemed that haply he 'knew well the time of his departure;
and so he spent the night, awake, in giving of thanks. And when the morning
dawned, that is, on the Wednesday, he bade us write with all speed what
we had begun. And this we did until the third hour. And from the third
hour we walked in procession with the relics of the saints, according
to the custom of that day. And there was one of us with him who said to
him, 'There is still one chapter wanting of the book which thou hast been
dictating, but I deem it burdensome for thee to be questioned any further.'
He answered, 'Nay, it is light, take thy pen and make ready, and write
quickly.'And this was done. But at the ninth hour he said to me, 'I have
certain treasures in my coffer, some spices, napkins and incense; run
quickly and bring the priests of our monastery to me; that I may distribute
among them the gifts which God has bestowed on me.'And this I did trembling,
and when they were come, he spoke to every one of them, admonishing and
entreating them that they should diligently offer masses and prayers for
him, and they promised readily. But they all mourned and wept, sorrowing
most of all for the words which he spake, because they thought that they
should see his face no long time in this world. But they rejoiced for
that he said, 'It is time for me, if it be my Maker's will, to be set
free from the flesh, and come to Him Who, when as yet I was not, formed
me out of nothing. I have lived long; and well has my pitiful judge disposed
my life for me; the time of my release is at hand; for my soul longs to
see Christ my King in His beauty.'Having said this and much more for our
profit and edification, he passed his last day in gladness till the evening;
and the aforesaid boy, whose name was Wilbert, still said, 'Dear master,
there is yet one sentence not written.'He answered, 'It is well, write
it.' Soon after, the boy said, 'Now it is written.' And he said, 'It is
well, thou hast said truly, it is finished. Take my head in thy hands,
for I rejoice greatly to sit facing my holy place where I was wont to
pray, that I too, sitting there, may call upon my Father.' And thus on
the pavement of his little cell, chanting 'Glory be to the Father, and
to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost,'and the rest, he breathed his last.
"And without doubt we must believe that inasmuch as he had always
been devout and earnest on earth in the praise of God, his soul was carried
by angels to the joys of Heaven which he desired. And all who heard him
or beheld the death of our father Bede, said that they had never seen
any other end his life in so great devotion and peace. For, as thou hast
heard, so long as the soul abode in the body, he chanted the 'Gloria Patri'and
other words to the glory of God, and with outstretched hands ceased not
to give thanks to God.
"But know this, that much could be told and written concerning him,
but my want of learning cuts short my words. Nevertheless, with the help
of God, I purpose at leisure to write more fully concerning him, of those
things which I saw with my own eyes and heard with my own ears."
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