A Long Lost Life of Pope Gregory I

The Earliest Life of Gregory the Great: By an Anonymous Monk of Whitby, translated by Bertram Colgrave. Lawrence: University of Kansas Press, 1968. Pp. ix, 180.

Born in Ireland in 1889, Bertram Colgrave died at Cambridge, England in 1968, the year this book was published. Much of his academic career was focused on the production of facsimiles and critical editions of the lives of saints. For many years, he served as founding editor-in-chief of the series titled Early English Manuscripts in Facsimile.

In The Earliest Life of Gregory the Great, Colgrave's "Introduction" takes up the biggest share of the book (1-70). It includes a section on the world into which the anonymous writer was born, a brief critical biography of Gregory the Great, and helpful information about the history of the Benedictine double monastery at Whitby, home to our author. Regarding date, Colgrave argues that the Whitby writer produced his work sometime between 704 and 714, and that traditions about Gregory that circulated at the monastery represent the writer's primary source, along with a "saga tradition" that likely came from Canterbury.

The Whitby writer also knows the Bible, which he quotes or echoes quite often. Colgrave tells us that although our anonymous monk could tell a pretty good story, he is no Latin stylist. In fact, at a number of points in the text the translator has a hard time knowing what the author was trying to say. Colgrave takes up the question of a possible relationship between the writings of Bede and the work produced by the Whitby writer, and concludes that there is no literary connection between the two. He explains that once Bede had finished his Ecclesiastical History of the English People, it immediately overshadowed the work of the Whitby writer, which fell into obscurity. In the modern era, no complete text of the work was issued until 1904.

Next, Colgrave presents the Latin text and his own translation of the work as one would find in the Loeb Classical Library: the original appears on the left side of an opening with the translation on the right (71-139). As the reader discovers, while some of the stories in this life are a bit pedestrian, the Whitby writer is able to include a few entertaining episodes connected to Gregory. For example, once he was identified as the next Pope, Gregory resisted by hiding, going so far as to hire a few local merchants who carried him out of the city in a casket (ch. 7). Above all, and throughout, the writer celebrates Gregory's devotion to the English people. It was by Gregory's distant influence that England became subject and devoted to the authority of the Roman Church.

The text and translation are followed by an impressive set of "Notes" (140-65) and a "Select Bibliography" (166-67), which supplements the works found in Colgrave's list of "Abbreviations" (viii-ix). The "Appendix" is essentially an index of biblical and other ancient sources that the Whitby writer quotes, or to which he alludes. This part of the book would be especially helpful to students who want to investigate the writer's handling of Scripture, or his knowledge and use of the patristic tradition. A good "Index" of places, names, and topics concludes the book (173-80).

Colgrave's work is the ideal, self-contained study of this particular life. Since its publication, it has no doubt raised scholars' awareness and use of this significant document from the eighth century. The work of the anonymous Whitby writer, with apparently no hagiographical sources behind it, provides a good contrast to Bede's Ecclesiastical History, which, in terms of sources, falls at the opposite end of the spectrum.

After reading this fine study, I still have one question: Why is it that "the earliest life of Gregory the Great" was written at least a century after he died?

Abstract of M.E. Aston article about Lollards

Aston, Margaret E. "Lollardy and Sedition 1381-1431." Past & Present 17 (April 1960): 1-44.

Aston summarizes the main point of this fine, substantial article in her first paragraph: "Before 1381, though the English governing classes had encountered heretics as well as rebels against society, they had never had to deal with either on a large or concerted scale. By the end of May 1382 both had been on their hands, and heresy (in the event) had come to stay.  . . . A heretical movement and a major upheaval among the lower orders of society had arrived, in point of time, together" (1). Having detailed the political aspects of early Lollard history, Aston concludes: "This is not, at all, to deny that there was, throughout, a very genuine alarm for the salvation of souls, and concern for the maintenance of the orthodox faith; nor to say that this aspect of the Lollard movement was not, and is not, the first to be considered. But the nature of the heresy, of the society in which it spread, and of the government which had to deal with it, were such that its religious implications could not be considered alone. And other happenings of this period ensured that they were not. Sedition and dissent had come of age together" (35-36).

England and the Early U.S. in Asian Trade

Fichter, James R. So Great a Proffit: How the East Indies Trade Transformed Anglo-American Capitalism. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2010.

This book is about Anglo-American capitalism in Asia. The story, says author James R. Ficther, illustrates "the deep links between the United States and the rest of the world from that country's inception (2-3).

For what it's worth, the part about "from that country's inception" is significant. The field of historical study that focuses on the U.S. and the rest of the world is growing rapidly. More to the point, it emphasizes not so much U.S. impact on the rest of the world, but rather the world's contributions and connections to U.S. history.

In this book, Fichter notes that American international traders did quite well for themselves in the years that immediately followed the American Revolution. Their economic success helped to pave the way for the tremendous growth that the U.S. experienced during the nineteenth century. But how did it happen? A careful historian, Fichter argues that there were a number of global factors at work in the rise and success of early-U.S. international trade. According to the author, some of these factors were as follows:

1. A strong American resistance to state-sponsored monopolies. The English East India Company was the only corporation that could legally import Asian goods, like tea, to Great Britain and her colonies. This, says Ficther, was at the root of the Boston Tea Party in December 1773. It wasn't merely that British subjects in America resented taxes on tea. It was that they also rejected the monopoly that locked American merchants out of the import business. From the beginning, the United States held onto the economic theory that insists that open and fair trade is a good thing for everyone.

2. The French Wars, which lasted from about 1793-1815, were an incredible distraction and impediment to European trade. European navies required ships for military purposes. Hostile countries interfered in each other's international trade. All along, the U.S. was basically neutral. So its trading vessels could safely sail under the American flag and do business with anyone.

3. Asian sellers wanted to be paid by Western buyers in silver. But there wasn't much of that in the early United States. American business leaders remedied that problem by selling shares in a given trading voyage to sometimes twenty or more individual investors. Most of these investors could never have owned a ship or financed a voyage. But they could still get in on the huge profits that came from international trade. In essence, by pooling their silver, Americans were not only able to make a lot of money, they were also able to quickly become major players in the game of Western trade with the East.

4. In spite of all its pomp and pride, the English East India Company, a state monopoly, was incredibly inefficient. Ironically, by attempting to retain its authority and unique legal status, it defeated itself.

5. British colonization in Asia created a whole set of problems associated with ruling a place so far from home. The United States didn't have those problems because it didn't have colonies in Asia.

By 1815, the English East India Company was kaput. Also by that time, enough American international traders had accumulated enough capital that they were able to help other industries in the U.S. to grow. In short, the British came to adopt a superior approach to Asian trade. While that was happening, the United States became a major player in Asian trade. The foregoing is nothing like a complete review of this book. But it does present some of the highlights.

Now, what was best about this book? I'm no expert on this topic, but I can tell you about what struck me. I think that the scope and depth of this book are impressive, to say the least. Ficther has spent a good bit of time in libraries and archives literally all over the world. Because of the extent of his painstaking research, he is able to tell a broad, complex story that takes into account a tremendous amount of wide-ranging information. This book represents quite an achievement, one that the reader will learn from and appreciate.

What wasn't so good about this book? While focusing on economics, Ficther tends to ignore the political dimension of his story. This shows up when one takes note of the featured actors. The author pays a lot of attention to people like American merchants, ship captains, and representatives of the East India Company. By contrast, we hear very little about significant politicians of the day. Perhaps the most glaring omission is Fichter's near silence about the labor of slaves in the Caribbean, an absolutely vital aspect of this episode in history. I am reluctant to fault a book along this line because it seems like faulting the author for not writing a different book. But I do think that more attention to the issues I have mentioned here would make this really fine book that much better.

MacCulloch, Chapter 10

The title here is "Latin Christendom: New Frontiers (500-1000)." MacCulloch begins by insisting that the period from the break up of the old Western Roman Empire to the tenth century really shouldn't be called the Dark Ages. It's more neutral and fair, he says, to call those times the early Middle Ages. How Christianity got along during this period is the subject of Chapter 10.

Changing Allegiances: Rome, Byzantium and Others

Many descendants of the aristocracy from the former empire learned that their professional aspirations were best satisfied by leadership in the Roman Church. For its part, the church coexisted with Gothic Arian chieftains, like Theoderic. Increasingly, religious leaders from Rome emphasized a division of authority: the emperors in Constantinople were the secular leaders, but the Pope in Rome was the leader in spiritual matters. In that sense, the Pope was more important than was the Emperor. Pope Hormisdas (514-23) provides an example of contemporary claims to authority:

Christ built his Church on St Peter, and so in the apostolic see the Catholic faith has always been kept without stain. There is one communion defined by the Roman see, and in that I hope to be, following the apostolic see in everything and affirming everything decided thereby (p. 326).

At times such rhetoric seemed to be followed, but at other times not. A few especially-strong characters like Gregory I (aka, the Great, who was Pope from 590 to 604) did much to establish papal authority. Perhaps even more important to the rise of the Holy Roman Empire were the conversions of some of the barbarian kings formerly dedicated to Arianism. Clovis (predecessor of the Frankish kings name Louis) was the greatest of these.

Missions in Northern Europe (500-600)

This section describes the Christianity of the British Isles before and after the time of Augustine (not the Bishop of Hippo) sent by Gregory the Great as an evangelist. Ireland had already been Christianized by St. Patrick. And what Augustine found in England was a form of Christianity and a society that were quite different from what he knew on the Continent. We would know much less about these events if it were not for the great English historian Bede, author of "The Ecclesiastical History of the people of the Angli." MacCulloch emphasizes at the end that what was significant about Augustine's mission was not that he Christianized the British Isles. Again, much of that work was already done. The significance of Augustine was his emphasis on obedience to Rome.

Obedience Anglo-Saxons and Other Converts (600-800)

During this period, a much greater percentage of those who lived in the British Isles embraced Christianity and especially the authority of Rome. People in general wanted to be associated with the prestige of old Roman society, and the Roman Church's connections with Peter gave it a special credibility. From England, this particular interest and conviction spread to central Europe. In virtually all cases, the "conversions" of the peoples of the Continent did not amount to a change from paganism to Christianity. Instead, these were conversions of Christian people to the recognition of Rome and subjection to the Pope. During this period, when people did experience a conversion, this amounted to a Christian deciding to become a nun or a monk.

Charlemagne, Carolingians and a New Roman Empire (800-1000)

Charles Martel (676-741) had five sons, one of whom was Pippin III (the Short). And Pippin became the father of Charles the Great = Charles Magnus = Charlemagne (747-814). (This information from a basic encyclopedia). MacCulloch's section here deals with the transition from the Merovingian to these Carolingian kings and their careers. During this period, the papacy and Carolingian dynasty marginalized the position of the Byzantines and represented the early beginnings of the Holy Roman Empire. Charlemagne reigned for many years and brought about a renaissance in the production of manuscripts of ancient documents, some of which had almost been completely lost. This was the rise of the minuscule cursive which sped up the pace of making manuscripts. Also during this time, Benedictine monasticism grew in its stature as a sanctifying influence for society. For example, priests and monks could pray and participate in the Mass in order to offset the sins of war. The Carolingian kings were aware that public penance could be an effective political act. The monasteries seemed satisfied by their public presence and by the social control that they exerted.

At this point in my reading of MacCulloch, something that strikes me is the author's attention to the wide array of influences and factors in the history of Christianity. A different way of approaching the task would be to trace out mainly the history of Christian beliefs and doctrines, the decisions of councils, etc. In other words, one way of writing Christian history would be to focus on of the interpretation of Scripture and the development of tradition. By contrast, MacCulloch emphasizes how things like architecture and liturgy, monuments, politics, names, symbols, and even coins both shaped and reflected how people lived, what they thought and how they understood the world. This much less "gnostic" approach prevents the story from becoming nothing more than a series of biographies of important thinkers or a survey of the evolution of Christian doctrine.

It's Been at Least This Bad, Usually Worse

Historians: I suppose they develop other maladies in order to compensate. But here's one problem they don't have: they don't live with the illusion that once upon a time, in the not-so-distant past, there was this wonderful, easy world, and that if we could just get back to that place and time, all would be right. The other side of this illusion relates to the present. It's baaaaad. Really, really bad. In fact, there's hardly ever been a time that was worse. If you ever doubt any of this, just ask a real expert like Glenn Beck.

Compare. Summarizing they way things were in England during the period from 1307-1471, the late Norman F. Cantor wrote:

For two hundred years there was chronic instability; change was vast, enveloping, and inescapable. Wherever we look are panic, brutality, violence in the streets. This is an upside-down world; a troubled, feverish world. . . . Even the most superficial account of the history of great aristocrats is a record of conflict, treachery, killing, beheading, and murder—even the surface pattern is one of general and extended violence. And underneath this surface lies a general dissatisfaction and unhappiness, and a tremendous yearning. . . . It is a time characterized by a prevailing apocalyptic feeling—the deep and haunting belief that the world is coming to an end. The English: A History of Politics and Society to 1760. (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1967), pp. 251-52.

Makes many of our problems seem downright easy, doesn't it? Oh, I know. But they're our problems.

John Wyclif and the Origins of Lollardy

A little something on Wyclif and the Lollards that might become a section of a simple book on church history someday:

Lollardy (sometimes spelled Lollardie) was the name given to an English heretical movement that began near the end of the fourteenth century. Its origins can be traced back to the teaching, preaching, the personal network and, above all, the writings of John Wyclif. [1]

We don't know when Wyclif was born, but it was likely sometime in the mid-1320s, near Richmond in the northern county of Yorkshire. Ordained a priest in September 1351, he spent most of his adult life at Oxford. He was a steward at Merton College in 1356, and a master at Balliol College by December 1360. He received the doctorate in theology in either 1372 or 1373. By all accounts, he possessed a tremendous mind and capacity for work. He was, in the words of Knighton, “second to no one, unequalled in the disciplines of the schools.” [2]

In his early writings, Wyclif made an argument for the disendowment of clerics who were in mortal sin. In that state, he said, they had no divine right to position and power. This, of course, made him popular with the devout clergy who agreed with him. Most of all, it made him popular with the Crown.

Early on, he had a benefactor in John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster. It was primarily the Duke's influence that led to Wyclif’s entry into royal service as a sort of schooled advocate who could help to undermine church privilege and the authority of the Pope. During those years, Wyclif stayed busy writing and preaching.

On May 22, 1377, Gregory XI issued five papal bulls condemning the views of Wyclif. Detained for a time at Oxford, he was soon released due to popular support there. In later skirmishes with Archbishop Sudbury and his successor, William Courtenay, Wyclif was protected by the likes of Gaunt and, on at least one occasion, Joan of Kent, mother of King Richard II.

By the late 1370s, however, Wyclif was doing more than simply attacking the abuses and the wealth of the church. Most significantly, he dismissed the orthodox, traditional understanding of the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist. In short, he denied the doctrine of transubstantiation. As a result, in May of 1381, William Barton, chancellor of Oxford, presided over a committee that condemned such heresy, though without specifically naming Wyclif. Then, on June 13, 1381—Corpus Christi day—peasant rebels, angry over an attempt to freeze wages, came to the outskirts of London and entered the city. [3]  During three days of mayhem, they killed Simon Sudbury, the Archbishop of Canterbury. In his De blasphemia, Wyclif wrote about the revolt. Although he never accepted even an indirect contribution to the catastrophe, chroniclers of the day did not agree; they saw a connection between public sentiment and Wyclif's influence. By then, Wyclif was no longer looked on as an interesting and useful radical, but more as a dangerous and loathsome heretic. He could no longer count on the critical support of some of the clergy and aristocracy, and by October 1381 he had retreated to his out-of-the-way parish in Lutterworth where he died at Mass on the last day of 1384.

The period in which Wyclif wrote his more-popular works and led a public life had lasted hardly more than a decade. But he left behind a large number of books and treatises, in English as well as in Latin, and not a few personal associates who were still at Oxford or who had since gone out from there, providing leadership for the group now known as the Lollards.
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[1] Here I depend heavily upon Anne Hudson and Anthony Kenny, “Wyclif [Wycliffe], John," in Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, ed. H. C. G. Matthew and Brian Harrison (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 60: 616-30.

[2] According to Steven Justice, “Lollardy,” in Cambridge History of Medieval English Literature (Cambridge: University Press, 1999), 663, n. 3, where the author cites Knighton, Chronicon, edited by Lumby, vol. II, 151.

[3] Norman F. Cantor, The English: A History of Politics and Society to 1760 (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1967), 253-54.