When king and prelate in lawful concord wielded

The one the church’s laws, the other the nation’s affairs.

We have seen how slight a reference Alcuin makes to the fact of the pall from Rome. He appears to have held a very moderate view of its importance to the end of his life. His letter to the Pope, Leo III, in the year 797, conveying a request that the pall might be granted to the newly-consecrated Archbishop of York, Eanbald II, is an important document. After referring to his letter of the previous year, congratulating Leo on his accession, he proceeds as follows, curiously enough not mentioning by name the archbishop or his city or diocese. He is writing from his home in France.

Ep. 82.

“And now as regards these messengers—who have come from my own fatherland and my own city, to solicit the dignity of the sacred pall, in canonical manner and in accordance with the apostolic precept of the blessed Gregory who brought us to Christ—I humbly pray your pious excellency that you receive benignantly the requests of ecclesiastical necessity. For in those parts the authority of the sacred pall is very necessary, to keep down the perversity of wicked men and to preserve the authority of holy church.”

That is a remarkably limited statement of the need for the pall, when we remember the tremendous claims made for it in later times. And it is the more remarkable because Alcuin is evidently making the most persuasive appeal he could construct; he would certainly state the case in its strongest terms when addressing the one man with whom it finally rested to say yes or no. He seems to say clearly that to have the pall was bonum et utile for the archbishop, for the purposes which he names; he says nothing, because apparently he knows nothing, of its affecting, one way or another, the archbishop’s plenary right, in virtue of his election and consecration, to consecrate bishops, ordain priests, and rule his province and his diocese.

Alcuin digresses from the series of archbishops to deal with the saints of the Church of York, of times near to and coinciding with his own. Of the former, he naturally takes Bede, and he takes no other. To Bede he gives only thirty-one lines, but he does not stint his praise. Six of the thirty-one lines are devoted to Bede’s abbat, Ceolfrith, who took from Wearmouth as a present to the Pope the famous Codex Amiatinus, now at Florence,[89] and died and was buried at Langres. From Alcuin’s poem we learn that Ceolfrith’s body was eventually brought back to Northumbria, and this enables us to accept William of Malmesbury’s statement that King Edmund, on an expedition to the north, obtained the relics of Ceolfrith among many others, and had them safely buried at Glastonbury.

Of the saints who lived on to the time of Alcuin’s own manhood he takes two, and we are rather surprised at his selection. The one is Balther, the occupant of the Bass Rock, known later as Baldred of the Bass; the other is the anchorite Eata. Both, indeed, were anchorites, the one at Tyningham and on the Bass, the other at Cric, which is said to be Crayke in the East Riding of Yorkshire. Baldred died in 756, and Eata in 767. At Thornhill, in the West Riding of Yorkshire, there is a sepulchral monument, one of three with inscriptions in early Anglian runes, in memory of one Eata, who is described as Inne, which some have guessed to mean a hermit.[90] On the strength of this guess they have claimed that Thornhill was the place of burial of Alcuin’s Eata. To Balther Alcuin gives more than twice as many lines as to Bede; to us this seems a remarkably disproportionate treatment. There is a considerable amount of uncertainty about Balther, and Alcuin’s lines leave the uncertainty without solution. The events which he connects with the anchorite Balther, as one of the saints of the Northumbrian Church, are really connected with an earlier Balther, of the time of St. Kentigern, a saint of the ancient British Church of Cumbria. The death of this Balther is placed in 608; and in any case he was before the first formation of the Christian Church among the Northumbrian Angles. Simeon of Durham puts the death of Balther in 756, and this fits in well with Alcuin’s statements; but we may most probably suppose that there was an earlier Balther and a later, and that the legendary events of the life of the earlier have been transferred to the life of the later. Alcuin certainly understood that his Balther was Balther of the Bass.

It is when Alcuin comes to Archbishop Albert that he really lets himself go. Ecgbert had in fact established the eminence of the great School of York, and had himself acted as its chief governor and its religious teacher. But Alcuin does not even refer to that in his account of Ecgbert. The praise of the school goes all to the credit of Ecgbert’s cousin, his successor in the mastership and eventually in the archbishopric, Albert. Eight lines of laudatory epithets Alcuin bestows upon Albert, before proceeding to detail; his laudation fitly culminates in what all ages have regarded as high praise, non ore loquax sed strenuus actu—not a great talker, but a strenuous doer.