CHAPTER X.
AUGUSTINE OF CANTERBURY AND THE IRISH CHURCH.
We have now to consider how the Irish Church came to be moulded by exterior influences. Up to the present our attention has been confined to such developments as took place independently. The Irish Church, as we have seen, stood alone beyond the reach of the revolutions and controversies that produced such changes in other parts of Christendom. It is a remarkable fact that it was her own missionary enterprise that first brought her within the sphere of foreign influence. The peculiarities of the Irish Church were well known. Columbanus and other Irish travellers had, in most countries of Europe, founded institutions which were formed after the model of those at home. The points in which they differed from those around them furnished subjects for discussion to popes and synods, but no effort seems to have been made to influence Ireland itself, or bring it into conformity with the other Western countries. It was only when in England the Irish missionaries met those who had been sent from Rome, and absolutely refused to regard them as other than heretical, that any action was taken; and even then it was anything but effectual. In regard to the particular matter—the Paschal controversy—which was first in dispute, it was the influence of native scholars and travellers that at length prevailed, and the concessions that were made, were made on account of the arguments brought forward by them, and not in deference to any exterior authority.
We shall first see how the Romish and Irish ecclesiastics were brought into contact, and we will then consider the differences which made themselves at once apparent.
The Saxons first landed in England in the year 449, after which date they continued to arrive in successive immigrations, until they had occupied a great part of the country. It was not until a century and a half later that any serious effort was made for their conversion. In the meantime they had driven the Britons before them, had destroyed the churches, and had set up the worship of Woden and Thor where the name of Christ had formerly been invoked. When Pope Gregory the Great was as yet but a deacon in Rome, he had a great desire to dedicate himself to the work of evangelizing this nation. But the obstacles raised by admiring friends, who desired to retain him in their midst, prevented him from carrying his purpose into effect, and it was only after his elevation to the papal chair that he found another who possessed the same enthusiasm, and was ready to undertake what must have seemed at the time to be a hazardous enterprise.
The mission of Augustine of Canterbury, to whom this work was committed by Pope Gregory, is an event with which all readers of English history are familiar, and its story need not be repeated here. The older historians have for the most part assumed that English Christianity was all the result of this mission from Rome. It is now recognised that such a view is quite erroneous. The work of Augustine was confined to the southern part of the country, and even there his success was more apparent than real, and has been magnified by succeeding writers, who considered it a matter of conscience to ignore or disparage any missionary effort that did not draw its inspiration from the Church of Rome. The whole enterprise depended on the enthusiasm of the one man. The companions of Augustine were reluctant in entering upon the work; they had scarcely put their hand to the plough when they wanted to turn back; and they were ready to desert it as soon as he was dead. Then, the great majority of the converts were Christians only in name. The preachers, acting under the advice of the Pope, made every possible concession to idolatry. The idol temples for example were retained; and, when dedicated to Christian worship, the people were encouraged to make feasts beside them, in the same way as they used to do in celebrating the sacrificial rites of heathenism.
The result was that when Augustine died, and the missionary enterprise passed into the hands of less enthusiastic workers, nearly the whole nation relapsed into idolatry.
The British Church—now confined to the western parts of the country—held itself sullenly aloof from the work of evangelization. Augustine rightly regarded this as a dereliction of duty, and made overtures to them, in hopes that they might be brought to recognise their obligation in this respect, and would join with him in the common labour of preaching the Gospel to the Gentiles. He made arrangements for assembling a synod, which was to consist of both parties, at a place still called in the time of Bede, Augustine's Ac, that is of Augustine's Oak. Up to that time both he and his party had held the Britons and Irish in great esteem for sanctity, being, it would seem, quite unaware that their usages differed in any wise from those to which they had been accustomed in Rome. No sooner, however, was the synod assembled, than the differences made themselves at once apparent, and the party separated without coming to any conclusion.
A second meeting was arranged, and in the meantime the British delegates took counsel with an anchorite, celebrated for his wisdom, who advised them to be led by Augustine, if he were a man of God. On being asked how they were to know this, the anchorite replied, that if he were a man of God he would be meek and humble, and would show his humility by rising up to greet them when they arrived at the synod. Unfortunately Augustine failed in the test. The Britons designedly came late, in order that Augustine, being already seated, should have the opportunity of rising up at their approach; but he continued sitting in his chair, and the British delegates, observing this, were in a passion, charged him with pride, and endeavoured to contradict all that he said.[1]
The British Church was in doctrine and discipline almost identical with the Church of Ireland; but the Roman missionaries were not aware of this fact, and were hoping better things from the Irish.[2] They learned, however, from Columbanus in France, that Irish and Britons were both alike, and when at length they did actually come in contact with an Irish bishop, he absolutely refused to join in their communion, and expressed his hostility not only by refusing to eat with them, but even to take his repast in the same house as that in which they were entertained. This looks like a display of temper; yet, strange to say, this bishop (Saint Dagan) is said by Irish authorities to have been remarkable for his meekness.[3] Probably he considered that eating under the same roof with them would be equivalent to the making of a league.
In one respect the Britons and the Irish were very different. The former had carried their hate of the Saxons so far as to deliberately withhold from them any knowledge of the Christian religion. 'We will not preach the faith,' they said, 'to the cruel race of strangers who have treacherously driven our ancestors from their country, and robbed their posterity of their inheritance.' The Irish, on the other hand, were in the full enthusiasm of missionary enterprise; their labours among the Picts had been crowned with a brilliant success, and they now began a similar work in the north of England.
Oswald, King of Northumbria, had once as a refugee been hospitably entertained in the island of Iona. When he found himself with the reins of government in his hands, he asked that a teacher should come from thence to instruct his people in the religion of Christ. Bishop Corman, who was first sent, met with no success, and soon returned, reporting that he had not been able to do any good to the nation he had been sent to preach to, because they were uncivilized men, and of a stubborn and barbarous disposition. A young man in the assembly, hearing this report, gave a gentle rebuke to the disheartened labourer. 'I am of opinion, brother,' said he, 'that you were more severe to your unlearned hearers than you ought to have been, and did not at first, conformably to the apostolic rule, give them the milk of more easy doctrine, till being by degrees nourished with the Word of God they should be capable of greater perfection and be able to practise God's sublimer precepts.'[4] This sentiment seemed to contain so much wisdom that the speaker, Saint Aidan, was at once fixed upon as the fittest for the work. He accordingly set out, accompanied by some companions like-minded with himself. They were favourably received by King Oswald, who allowed them to choose for themselves a site on which to found their first establishment. They, taking Iona as their model, chose the small island of Lindisfarne, in which they reproduced as nearly as possible the different features of the parent monastery. Their work, prosecuted as it was with vigour and tempered with wisdom and prudence, was eminently successful, and the whole nation was brought to the obedience of the faith. Lindisfarne became in the very best sense a second Iona. In the meantime some of the faint-hearted in the Roman mission, becoming ashamed of their cowardice, had returned to the conflict; new helpers had joined them, and they began to build up again the Church which had been so suddenly destroyed. The result of all was that Saxon England had two Churches: one in the south in communion with the Church of Rome, and one in the north in communion with the Church of Ireland. When these two parties met, the isolation of the Irish Church was for the first time broken, and the differences between it and the Church of Rome became at once apparent.
Let us now ask what these differences were.
- ↑ Bede. Eccl. Hist., ii. 2.
- ↑ Ib., ii. 4.
- ↑ See Card. Moran, Irish Saints in Great Britain, p. 211.
- ↑ Bede, Eccl. Hist. iii. 5.