[A.D. 735.] DEATH OF BEDE.
But the unspotted sanctity and holy purity of his heart were chiefly conspicuous on the approach of death. Although for seven weeks successively, from the indisposition of his stomach, he nauseated all food, and was troubled with such a difficulty of breathing that his disorder confined him to his bed, yet he by no means abandoned his literary avocations. During whole days he endeavoured to mitigate the pressure of his disorder and to lose the recollection of it by constant lectures to his pupils, and by examining and solving abstruse questions, in addition to his usual task of psalmody. Moreover the gospel of St. John, which from its difficulty exercises the talents of its readers even to the present day, was translated by him into the English language, and accommodated to those who did not understand Latin. Occasionally, also, would he admonish his disciples, saying, “Learn, my children, while I am with you, for I know not how long I shall continue; and although my Maker should very shortly take me hence, and my spirit should return to him that sent and granted it to come into this life, yet have I lived long, God hath rightly appointed my portion of days, I desire to be dissolved and to be with Christ.”
Often too when the balance was poised between hope and fear, he would remark “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.[83] I have not passed my life among you in such manner as to be ashamed to live, neither do I fear to die, because we have a kind Master;” thus borrowing the expression of St. Ambrose when dying. Happy man! who could speak with so quiet a conscience as neither being ashamed to live, nor afraid to die; on the one hand not fearing the judgment of men, on the other waiting with composure the hidden will of God. Often, when urged by extremity of pain, he comforted himself with these remarks, “The furnace tries the gold, and the fire of temptation the just man: the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared to the future glory which shall be revealed in us.”[84] Tears and a difficulty of breathing accompanied his words. At night, when there were none to be instructed or to note down his remarks, he passed the whole season in giving thanks and singing psalms, fulfilling the saying of that very wise man,[85] “that he was never less alone than when alone.” If at any time a short and disturbed sleep stole upon his eye-lids, he immediately shook it off, and showed that his affections were always intent on God, by exclaiming “Lift me up, O Lord, that the proud calumniate me not. Do with thy servant according to thy mercy.” These and similar expressions which his shattered memory suggested, flowed spontaneously from his lips whenever the pain of his agonizing disorder became mitigated. But on the Tuesday before our Lord’s ascension his disease rapidly increased, and there appeared a small swelling in his feet, the sure and certain indication of approaching death. Then the congregation being called together, he was anointed and received the sacrament. Kissing them all, and requesting from each that they would bear him in remembrance, he gave a small present, which he had privately reserved, to some with whom he had been in closer bonds of friendship. On Ascension day, when his soul, tired of the frail occupation of the body, panted to be free, lying down on a hair-cloth near the oratory, where he used to pray, with sense unimpaired and joyful countenance, he invited the grace of the Holy Spirit, saying, “O King of glory, Lord of virtue, who ascendedst this day triumphant into the heavens, leave us not destitute, but send upon us the promise of the Father, the Spirit of truth.” This prayer ended, he breathed his last, and immediately the senses of all were pervaded by an odour such as neither cinnamon nor balm could give, but coming, as it were, from paradise, and fraught with all the joyous exhalations of spring. At that time he was buried in the same monastery, but at present, report asserts that he lies at Durham with St. Cuthbert.
With this man was buried almost all knowledge of history down to our times, inasmuch as there has been no Englishman either emulous of his pursuits, or a follower of his graces, who could continue the thread of his discourse, now broken short. Some few indeed, “whom the mild Jesus loved,” though well skilled in literature, have yet observed an ungracious silence throughout their lives; others, scarcely tasting of the stream, have fostered a criminal indolence. Thus to the slothful succeeded others more slothful still, and the warmth of science for a long time decreased throughout the island. The verses of his epitaph will afford sufficient specimen of this indolence; they are indeed contemptible, and unworthy the tomb of so great a man:
“Presbyter hic Beda, requiescit carne sepultus;
Dona, Christe, animam in cœlis gaudere per ævum:
Daque illi sophiæ debriari fonte, cui jam
Suspiravit ovans, intento semper amore.”[86]
Can this disgrace be extenuated by any excuse, that there was not to be found even in that monastery, where during his lifetime the school of all learning had flourished, a single person who could write his epitaph, except in this mean and paltry style? But enough of this: I will return to my subject.
Ceolwulf thinking it beneath the dignity of a Christian to be immersed in earthly things, abdicated the throne after a reign of eight years, and assumed the monastic habit at Lindisfarne, in which place how meritoriously he lived, is amply testified by his being honourably interred near St. Cuthbert, and by many miracles vouchsafed from on high.
[A.D. 737, 738.] KING EADBERT.
He had made provision against the state’s being endangered, by placing his cousin, Eadbert,[87] on the throne, which he filled for twenty years with singular moderation and virtue. Eadbert had a brother of the same name, archbishop of York, who, by his own prudence and the power of the king, restored that see to its original state. For, as is well known to any one conversant in the history of the Angles,[88] Paulinus, the first prelate of the church of York, had been forcibly driven away, and died at Rochester, where he left that honourable distinction of the pall which he had received from pope Honorius. After him, many prelates of this august city, satisfied with the name of a simple bishopric, aspired to nothing higher: but when Eadbert was seated on the throne, a man of loftier spirit, and one who thought, that, “as it is over-reaching to require what is not our due, so is it ignoble to neglect our right,” he reclaimed the pall by frequent appeals to the pope. This personage, if I may be allowed the expression, was the depository and receptacle of every liberal art; and founded a most noble library at York. For this I cite Alcuin,[89] as competent witness; who was sent from the kings of England to the emperor Charles the Great, to treat of peace, and being hospitably entertained by him, observes, in a letter to Eanbald, third in succession from Eadbert, “Praise and glory be to God, who hath preserved my days in full prosperity, that I should rejoice in the exaltation of my dearest son, who laboured in my stead, in the church where I had been brought up and educated, and presided over the treasures of wisdom, to which my beloved master, archbishop Egbert, left me heir.” Thus too to Charles Augustus:[90] “Give me the more polished volumes of scholastic learning, such as I used to have in my own country, through the laudable and ardent industry of my master, archbishop Egbert. And, if it please your wisdom, I will send some of our youths, who may obtain thence whatever is necessary, and bring back into France the flowers of Britain; that the garden of Paradise may not be confined to York, but that some of its scions may be transplanted to Tours.”
This is the same Alcuin, who, as I have said, was sent into France to treat of peace, and during his abode with Charles, captivated either by the pleasantness of the country or the kindness of the king, settled there; and being held in high estimation, he taught the king, during his leisure from the cares of state, a thorough knowledge of logic, rhetoric, and astronomy. Alcuin was, of all the Angles, of whom I have read, next to St. Aldhelm and Bede, certainly the most learned, and has given proof of his talents in a variety of compositions. He lies buried in France, at the church of St. Paul, of Cormaric,[91] which monastery Charles the Great built at his suggestion: on which account, even at the present day, the subsistence of four monks is distributed in alms, for the soul of our Alcuin, in that church.