CHAPTER XVIII
Alcuin’s latest days.—His letters mention his ill health.—His appeals for the prayers of friends, and of strangers.—An affectionate letter to Charlemagne.—The death scene.
Ep. 147. June 26, 800.
Alcuin’s health began to break in the later part of the year 800, or early in 801. In June, 800, he wrote a letter to Arno of Salzburg which shows that he had in the first days of the month travelled with Karl from Tours to Aix by way of Orleans and Paris, and after a debate with Felix the Adoptionist had returned to Tours. We do not find in this long letter any mention of failing health. Indeed, he overflows with affectionateness, a feeling always displayed in his letters to Arno. “I am sending to your dearness three little gifts; a tent to protect your venerated head from the rain[283], a bed-cover to keep warm your sacred breast, and a glass in which your bread may be dipped at table, that whenever they are used they may bring to your sanctity a recollection of my name.”
In this letter he describes his debate with Felix.
“I have had a great dispute with the heretic Felix in presence of the lord king and holy fathers. He was obdurate; would recognize the authority of no one who took an opposite view; held himself to be wiser than all in this, that he was more foolish than all. But the divine clemency touched his heart; he confessed that he had of late been carried away by a false opinion; he professed that he held firmly the Catholic faith. We could not see into his mind, and we left the cause to the Judge of secret things. We handed him over to Laidrad [the Bishop of Lyon (798-814)] our dearest son, who is to keep him and see whether it is true that he believes, and whether he will write letters condemning the heresy which he has preached. The king had intended to send him to Archbishop Riculf [of Maintz] to be kept and chastised; and his presbyter, who is worse than his master, was to be sent to you and your providence. But now that they say they are converted to the Catholic faith, they have been handed over to Laidrad, who is to test their sincerity.”
Ep. 189. May, 802.
On May 24, 801, Alcuin received a letter from Arno, Archbishop of Salzburg, at nine o’clock in the morning, and the messenger told him he must leave again at three in the afternoon. In the course of the six hours he dictated fourteen paragraphs in reply. One of these concerned his health. “My Candidus has been able to tell you all about my weakness. It is therefore superfluous to write on the subject, except to say that all bodily fitness has left me, and pleasures of the world have fled far away.”
The interesting remark in this letter that the messenger from Salzburg to Tours, a distance of some six hundred miles, must go back in six hours is not the only interesting detail. We learn, also, that many letters were lost in the difficulties of the journey. The eyes of the Sassenach of to-day, who rides some forty miles in a Scottish mail-cart in Sutherland, and sees the letters shied out into kailyards and steadings, are opened to the possibilities of loss in primitive methods of letter-carrying. The admirable arrangements of the early Roman empire, for conveyance of men and things, had been thrown into chaos long before Alcuin’s time, and special messengers, or “runners”, were used by important people for the transmission of letters.