“The British Church, established probably on the oldest direct traditions from Judea, in closest connexion with conversions of the highest importance in the history of mankind, appeared, no less by its geographical position than by its exalted spiritual endowments, fitted to become the foundation of a northern patriarchate, which, by its counterpoise to Rome and the rest of the south, its guardianship over a Celtic and Germanic population, sanctified by the doctrine of Christ, might have been the instrument to impart to those within its pale, that which both meditative and ambitious men in the middle-age sometimes ventured to think on, but which, in comparatively modern times, Martin Luther first strove to extort for Romanized Europe.”
The picture is pleasing if we contemplate these possibilities merely on “the side that’s next the sun.” We fancy a church system extending over Northern Europe, pure in its doctrines and peaceable in its policy, free from foreign influence and intrigue, and in harmony with the frank and earnest character of the nations it embraces within its bosom. We imagine, too, that Rome herself, uninjured by the intoxication of a wealth and power too great for any clerical rulers to bear meekly and innocently, would have retained something more of apostolical truth and simplicity; and that the two rivals might have run a friendly race of Christian zeal and diligence. But there are also opposite contingencies which may reconcile us to the course, in which events have been directed by a wisdom greater than our own. We might have seen perhaps in our own region the establishment of a church at variance with that of Rome, in some essential articles of faith in which we now agree with her. We might have been born under a great Arian or Pelagian heresiarchy, enervating or polluting all our best elements of action; or, if we had remained pure, the unaided energy of the Roman See might have sunk under the formidable errors with which she was at one time threatened, and the limits of orthodox Christendom might have been fearfully abridged. As it is, by the unity that for a time was attained even at a serious sacrifice, the preservation and extension of the apostolic faith may have been secured until the fulness of time arrived, when the Reformation set men free from a bondage that had ceased to be necessary, and had begun to be pernicious.
The ascendency of the Romish church brought with it another compensation, in the influx of southern art and classical learning. It cannot be doubted that our religious connexion with Christian Rome, was mainly instrumental in rendering us familiar with Roman and even with Grecian antiquity: and who shall say what might have been our mental condition if we had wanted all the ennobling and ameliorating influences which have thence been derived? A Saxon or a Celtic tendency predominating in our literature, and in our habits of thought and action, and excluding perhaps benigner elements of sentiment and reflection, might have made us a rude and rugged people, brave and impetuous, ardent and impassioned, but without either the refinement of taste, the soundness of judgment, or the depth of philosophy, which have been the fruits of that ingrafted instruction which has softened and subdued our native character. On the whole, then, let us be grateful for what we are: not repining at having learned our religion from Rome, and not regretting that we are now emancipated from our schoolmistress, and at liberty to judge and to act for ourselves.
With other arts and knowledge, as Lappenberg observes,
“Architecture also came in the suite of the Roman Church. The Scottish clergy, from the preference, perhaps, of the northern nations for that material, had built their churches of wood, thatching them with reeds, an example of which existed in the new Cathedral at Lindisfarne. It was at a later period only that reeds were exchanged for sheets of lead, with which the walls also were sometimes covered. Wilfrith sent for masons from Kent, and the abbot Benedict for workmen from Gaul. The stone basilica, erected by Paulinus, at York, which had fallen into a disgraceful state of dilapidation, was restored by Wilfrith, the roof covered with lead, the windows filled with glass, till then unknown among his countrymen. At Ripon, he caused a new basilica of polished stone to be erected, supported by pillars with a portico. The consecration—at which the Kings Ecgfrith and Ælfwine were present—was concluded by a feasting reminding us of Pagan times, which lasted during three days and nights. The four gospels, written with golden letters on purple vellum, adorned with paintings, in a case of pure gold set with precious stones, enables us to judge both of the wealth and munificence of the patrons of Wilfrith.
An edifice still more remarkable was erected by the bishop at Hexham, which, it is said, had not its like on this side of the Alps. Benedict’s structure, too, at Wearmouth was the work of masters from Gaul, after the Roman model. Thus, we perceive, in the instance of the most memorable buildings of which mention is found in the history of the Anglo-Saxons, how their architecture sprang from that of ancient Rome, however it may have been modified in England, to suit a difference of circumstances and climate.”
The details we possess of the exertions of Benedict, mentioned in the preceding extract, and generally distinguished by the name of Benedict Biscop, are especially interesting, and present a remarkable view of the actual importation and progress of those arts of civilization, to which the Saxons but a century before were utter strangers. He was the builder, and first abbot of St. Peter’s monastery at Weremouth:—“A man,” as Bede tells us in his Lives of the Abbots of that locality, “of a venerable life, (we use Dr. Giles’ translation,) blessed (benedictus) both in grace and in name; having the mind of an adult even from his childhood, surpassing his age by his manners, and with a soul addicted to no false pleasures. He was descended from a noble lineage of the Angles, and by corresponding dignity of mind, worthy to be exalted into the company of the angels. Lastly, he was the minister of King Oswy, and by his gift enjoyed an estate suitable to his rank; but at the age of twenty-five years he despised a transitory wealth, that he might obtain that which is eternal.” He visited Rome five times, and never returned with empty hands. After being settled at Weremouth in the year 674, Benedict visited Gaul, and brought with him masons and glass artificers, to build his church in the Roman style. He then made his fourth voyage to Rome, (we quote again from Bede,)
“And returned loaded with more abundant spiritual merchandise than before. In the first place, he brought back a large quantity of books of all kinds; secondly, a great number of relics of Christ’s Apostles and Martyrs, all likely to bring a blessing on many an English church; thirdly, he introduced the Roman mode of chanting, singing, and ministering in the church, by obtaining permission from Pope Agatho to take back with him John, the arch chanter of the church of St. Peter, and Abbot of the Monastery of St. Martin, to teach the English.”—Further, “he brought with him pictures of sacred representations to adorn the church of St. Peter, which he had built; namely, a likeness of the Virgin Mary, and of the twelve Apostles, with which he intended to adorn the central nave, on boarding placed from one wall to the other; also some figures from ecclesiastical history for the south wall, and others from the Revelation of St. John for the north wall; so that every one who entered the church, even if they could not read, whereever they turned their eyes, might have before them the amiable countenance of Christ and his Saints, though it were but in a picture, and with watchful minds might revolve on the benefits of our Lord’s incarnation, and having before their eyes the perils of the last judgment, might examine their hearts the more strictly on that account.”
Some years afterwards, he made his fifth voyage
“From Britain to Rome, and returned (as usual) with an immense number of proper ecclesiastical relics. There were many sacred books and pictures of the saints, as numerous as before. He also brought with him pictures out of our Lord’s history, which he hung round the Chapel of Our Lady in the larger monastery; and others to adorn St. Paul’s church and monastery, ably describing the connexion of the Old and New Testament; as, for instance, Isaac bearing the wood for his own sacrifice, and Christ carrying the cross on which he was about to suffer, were placed side by side. Again, the serpent raised up by Moses in the desert, was illustrated by the Son of Man exalted on the cross. Among other things, he brought two cloaks, all of silk, and of incomparable workmanship, for which he received an estate of three hides, on the south bank of the river Were, near its mouth, from King Alfred.”
A glimpse of the pictures thus imported into England, in the seventh century, and of the gazing multitudes who would crowd around them, would carry us back almost to the childhood of modern art, and to the infancy of English taste.