| |
BOOK II.
GREGORY'S PONTIFICATE.
CHAPTER II.
LIFE AND WORK IN ROME
IN the time of John the Deacon there was in the
Monastery of St. Andrew a likeness of Gregory, depicted on a circle of stucco
in an apse behind the monks’ cellarium. John, who inspected the portrait, has
described it for us in detail, and from his account we are able to form some
idea of the personal appearance of the great Pope. His face, we read, was well
proportioned, combining the length of his father's and the roundness of his
mother's countenance; his beard, like his father's, was somewhat tawny and sparse.
His head was large and bald, surrounded with dark hair hanging down below the
middle of the ear; two little curls bending towards the right crowned a
forehead broad and high. The eyes were of yellow-brown colour,
small but open; the eyebrows arched, long, and thin; the under-eyelids full.
The nose was aquiline, with open nostrils. The lips were red and thick, the
cheeks shapely, the chin prominent and well-formed. His complexion, swarthy and
high-coloured, became flushed in later life. The
expression was gentle. He was of medium height and good figure; his hands were
beautiful, with tapering fingers well adapted to handle the pen of a ready
writer. In the picture he was represented standing, clad in a chestnut-coloured chasuble over a dalmatic, and wearing a small
pallium, which fell over his shoulders, breast, and side. His left hand grasped
a Book of the Gospels, his right was raised to make the sign of the cross. A
square frame—not the round nimbus —surrounded his head, proving that the
portrait was executed in his lifetime. Beneath the picture was the following
distich, of his own composing:
Christe, potens Domine, nostri largitor honoris,
Indultum officium solita pietate guberna.
Such was the appearance of Pope Gregory about the year
590. His health was extremely bad. The austerities of his monastic days had
shattered his constitution, and during the last fourteen years of his life he
was never free from illness. He suffered frightfully from indigestion, and from
time to time he was entirely prostrated by attacks of slow fever. Moreover, he
was a martyr to the gout, which appears at this period to have been a very
common complaint among the upper classes of society, both ecclesiastical and
lay. Nevertheless, in spite of his constant and increasing infirmities, Gregory
did not permit himself any relaxation in the discharge of his duties. From
morning to night, in sickness and in health, he was always busy. "He never
rested," writes his biographer Paul. "He was ever engaged in
providing for the interests of his people, or in writing some composition
worthy of the Church, or in searching out the secrets of heaven by the grace of
contemplation." It is no wonder that this most indefatigable of men soon
wore himself out. His frail body was unequal to the demands he made upon it.
Nevertheless, up to the very last his fiery energy was unsubdued.
In the present chapter it is my intention to give some
account of Gregory's life and work within the walls of Rome. I shall,
therefore, pass over for the present his multitudinous and varied labours in connection with the government of the Church at
large, the conduct of the Lombard War, the regulation of Western monasticism,
the management of the Papal estates, the prosecution of the Papal claims, the
sending of missions, the negotiations with the Emperor and with other princes,
the suppression of heresy, schism, and paganism,—the thousand interests to
which, as chief bishop of the West, he was obliged to devote his attention.
These concerns, of course, occupied the greater part of his time. There was
always some business to be attended to. Now he was called upon to give audience
to a special envoy from Constantinople, now to preside over the trial of an
accused bishop, now to dictate some minute directions to the governor of one of
the Papal patrimonies. Sometimes schismatics or heretics came to Rome to lay
their difficulties before the orthodox Pope and listen to his arguments; monks
came to complain of the oppression of their diocesans; bishops asked his
counsel about the government of their churches; soldiers and civil officials,
ambassadors from the Lombards or the Franks, messengers from the Exarch,
priests, abbats, Jews, slaves, women, crowded his
ante-chambers, and clamoured for his attention. This
burden alone was more than sufficient for one man. But in addition to this
Gregory was charged with the special care of the people of Rome. He was first
of all bishop of the Eternal City, and as such was bound to look after the
welfare of its inhabitants, providing for their spiritual as well as for their
temporal necessities, and punctually performing all those duties which he had
sketched out in his Pastoral Care. It is with this department of his work that
I shall here attempt to deal.
It has been already noticed how Gregory, while
apocrisiarius at Constantinople, persevered in the practice of monastic
discipline, retaining amid the splendours of the
Imperial court the ascetic usages of the conventual life. These habits he did
not abandon after his removal to the Palace of the Lateran. He surrounded
himself with the most learned clerks and the most pious monks, and lived with
them in common, "so that the Roman Church in Gregory's time resembled that
Church as it was under the rule of the Apostles or the Church of Alexandria
during the episcopate of St. Mark." Among the most intimate of his
associates the biographer mentions Peter the Deacon, whom Gregory represented
as his interlocutor in the Dialogues, Aemilianus the notary, who took shorthand
notes of his sermons, Paterius the notary, who edited
excerpts from his writings, John the Defensor, who was afterwards sent into
Spain, Maximianus, now once more Abbat of St. Andrew's Monastery, Augustine,
Prior of St. Andrew's, and Mellitus, who were both sent afterwards as
missionaries to Britain, Marinianus, a monk of St. Andrew's, who became
Archbishop of Ravenna, Probus, who was sent to build a xenodochium at
Jerusalem, and Claudius, afterwards Abbat of Classis, who had once taken notes
of Gregory's lectures on the Old Testament. In the company of these and others
Gregory strove to realize the monastic ideal of perfection. He cut off all
luxuries. His diet was of the simplest, though it seems that within limits he
was a little fastidious in what he took. His favourite wine, for instance, was called “cognidium”, a liquor flavoured with resin; and this he procured direct from
Alexandria, since at Rome, so he complained, “we get from the traders a drink
which is called cognidium, but not the
wine itself”. His personal appointments were so simple as to be almost mean. He
continued to wear his coarse monk’s dress, and even his pontifical vestments
were of the plainest. Yet, in his public appearances, he was careful to
maintain a decent dignity. The horses, for example, on which he rode when he
went in processions must be of finest breed. “You have sent me”, he wrote to
the manager of the Papal estates in Sicily, “one sorry nag and five good asses.
The nag I cannot ride because it is such a wretched one; and the asses, good as
they are, I cannot ride because they are asses”.
As soon as he became Pope, Gregory effected a reform
in the constitution of the household. All the lay attendants were banished from
the palace, and clerics were substituted in their place. This reform was
further extended to the officials of the Papal Patrimony, all places being
given to ecclesiastics. To laymen, in fact, nothing was left but the profession
of arms and the occupation of agriculture. Of course, one inevitable result of
this change was that many laymen promptly adopted the tonsure, not from any
religious conviction, but in order to retain their offices. Nevertheless, the
removal from the Lateran of the expensive crowd of “curled pages” and
“exquisite young attendants”, was undoubtedly a salutary measure. Grave clerics
and ascetic monks were far better suited for the service of so austere a Pope.
Much of Gregory’s time was taken up with secular
business. To begin with, the defence of the city
against the Lombards was a constant care. There was
no Dux or Magister Militum resident
in Rome, and consequently the Pope was frequently compelled by circumstances to
assume the direction even in matters strictly military. In this regard,
perhaps, the thing which gave him most anxiety was the mutinous temper of the
Imperial garrison. Thus in one of his letters we find him complaining that
"the Theodosian regiment, who have been left here, not having received
their pay, can scarcely be induced to guard the walls." In another he
writes: “If the Chartulary Maurentius comes, I pray you to help him to relieve the
general distress, since, while the sword of the enemy threatens us incessantly
from without, we are menaced by still greater dangers from the mutinous
soldiery within”.
Again, Rome at this time was thronged to overflowing
with indigent refugees. "From almost every part of Italy multitudes
flocked into the city, fearing the swords of the Lombards." These unhappy
fugitives were many of them completely destitute, and there was no one in a
position to relieve their necessities save the Pope. The rich patrician
families who had once dispensed their lordly charities in the halls of the
Roman palaces had long ago disappeared. Most of them had removed to
Constantinople, having sold their Italian estates or presented them to the
Roman Church; some had died out. As things were, the Pope was almost the only
wealthy man remaining in the city, and to him and the Church which he
represented the destitute people looked for the necessaries of existence.
To the task of providing for the famine-stricken
populace, Gregory addressed himself with zeal. Every ecclesiastical district in
Rome had its "deaconry," or office of alms, which was under the
superintendence of a deacon, and the accounts of which were kept by a general
administrator. Here the poor, the aged, and the destitute of the several
regions received food on application. Those who had no shelter were further
accommodated with lodging in the reception-houses for strangers. Public distributions
of corn were also made in the convents and basilicas. The corn so dispensed was
obtained from Sicily. A small portion of the supply appears to have been
furnished by the Emperor, but the greater part was provided by the Pope from
the Papal estates, and was stored in the granaries of the Church. The
importance of this supply for the life of the city may be judged from a letter
which Gregory wrote, immediately after his accession, to the Praetor of Sicily.
He implores the official to provide for the transmission of the full amount of
grain that was needed. "Give attention to the matter," he wrote;
"for if what is transmitted be at all defective, it will be the death of
not merely one single individual, but of the whole people together."
Some account of the general measures of relief is
given by John the Deacon, in a remarkably interesting passage on Pope Gregory's
method of distributing the revenues of the Roman Church. "He turned into
money the revenues of all the patrimonies and estates, according to the ledger
of Gelasius, of whom he seems to have been a most careful follower, and having
collected all the officials of the Church, the palace, the monasteries, the
lesser churches, the cemeteries, the deaconries, the guest-houses both within
and without the walls, he decided from the ledger (according to which the
distribution is still made) how many solidi should be given to each, out of the
above-mentioned payments in gold and silver. The sums thus decided on were
distributed four times a year, namely, at Easter, on the festival of the
Apostles (June 29), on the festival of St. Andrew (November 30), and on his own
fête-day (September 3). Moreover, very early in the morning on Easter Day he
was accustomed to sit in the Basilica of Pope Vigilius, near which he dwelt, to
exchange the kiss of peace with the bishops, priests, deacons, and other
notabilities, and on these occasions he gave to all of them an aureus apiece.
On the festival of the Apostles and on the anniversary of his own consecration
he gave them a sum of money and dresses of foreign material and make.
"On the first day of every month he distributed
to the poor in general that part of the Church revenues which was paid in kind.
Thus corn in its season, and in their several seasons wine, cheese, vegetables,
bacon, meat, fish, and oil were most discreetly doled out by this father of the
family of the Lord. But pigments and other more delicate articles of commerce
were offered by him as marks of respect to citizens of rank. Thus the Church
came to be regarded as a source of supply for the whole community.
"To three thousand handmaids of God (whom the
Greeks call monastriae) he gave fifteen pounds
of gold for bed-furniture, and bestowed upon them for their daily provision
eighty pounds annually. Of whom, writing to the royal lady Theoctista, he says:
Their life is so noble, so given to tears and abstinence, that I believe that,
but for them, not one of us could have subsisted for so many years in Rome amid
the swords of the Lombards.
Moreover, every day he sent out, by couriers appointed
to the office, cooked provisions to the sick and infirm throughout the streets
and lanes of all the city districts. To those of higher rank, who were ashamed
to beg, he would send a dish from his own table, to be delivered at their doors
as a present from St. Peter. And this he did before he himself sat down to
dine. Thus not one of the faithful in Rome was without experience of the
kindness of this Bishop, who most tenderly provided for the wants of all."
So particular was Gregory in seeing that this system
of relief was effectively carried out, and so thoroughly did he consider
himself responsible for the welfare of his people, that on one occasion, when a
pauper was found dead in a small back room of a common lodging-house, the Pope
abstained from celebrating mass for some days, sorrowing as though he were the
man's actual murderer.
John the Deacon adds: "There exists to this day
in the most holy archives of the Lateran Palace, a very large paper volume,
compiled in Gregory's times, wherein the names of all persons of either sex, of
all ages and professions, both at Rome and in the suburbs, in the neighbouring towns and even in the distant cities on the
coast, are set down, together with details concerning their family names, their
ages, and the payments which they received." The contents of this per grande volumen were
examined by the diligent biographer, but through fear of wearying his readers,
he omits to specify them further. Nevertheless, it would have been interesting
to learn how many descendants of ancient and noble families had their names
enrolled among the recipients of the Church's bounty, being reduced to accept a
scanty dole at the hands of the priesthood which their ancestors had persecuted
and despised.
It was not alone with the revenues of the Church that
Gregory showed himself liberal. Within his own palace and at his own expense he
was ever ready to assist those in need. Like St. Paul's good bishop, he was
"given to hospitality," and every day he was accustomed to entertain
twelve strangers at his own table. John the Deacon records two legends which
were current about these dinner-parties in his own time. The first tells how
Gregory on one occasion was pouring water on the hands of his guests, as his custom
was, when one of them to whom he was about to minister suddenly disappeared.
The same night the Lord stood by him in a vision, and said, "On other days
thou hast received Me in My members, but today thou hast received Myself."
The second legend is even better known. One day when Gregory was at the table
he suddenly perceived that there was a thirteenth guest. On making inquiries,
he found to his astonishment that the stranger was visible to himself alone,
and his wonder grew when he observed that this mysterious one was constantly
changing in appearance —now seeming to be a youth, now a white-haired old man.
When the meal was over, he detained his guest and inquired his name, whereupon
he was informed that it was none other than the angel who had appeared to him
in the guise of a shipwrecked mariner at St. Andrew's Monastery, and who was
now sent to be his guardian through life and to procure for him from God the
granting of all his prayers. The table at which Gregory entertained the angel
unawares is still shown in Rome; and, though the legends are worth nothing as
sober history, yet it is worthy of note that the custom of giving banquets to
pilgrims at Easter dates apparently from the days of the great Pope.
The high estimation which was commonly entertained of
Gregory's charity and self-denial may be illustrated by one more anecdote. A
certain solitary of great virtue, who possessed nothing in the world but a cat,
which he often caressed and fondled in his bosom, prayed God to show him the
reward he would get hereafter for giving up so entirely the riches of this
world. It was revealed to him in the night that he should share a heavenly
mansion with Gregory, the Roman Pope. Whereat the holy man was grieved, thinking
that his voluntary poverty would be ill rewarded if he obtained nothing more
than one who lived amid such abundance of worldly wealth. Day and night, with
sighs and groans, he compared his own destitution with Gregory's riches, until
at last God said to him, in a dream, "It is not the possession of riches,
but the lust for them that makes a rich man; why then dost thou dare to compare
thy poverty with the riches of Gregory? Thou, in loving thy cat, and stroking
it daily and giving it to no one, art more enamoured of wealth than he, who loves not his great riches, but dispenses them to all
men liberally." The solitary rendered thanks to God for his rebuke, and
ever afterwards prayed earnestly that he might be counted worthy to share a
mansion with the world-despising Pope.
While Gregory thus attended to the temporal welfare of
his flock, he did not neglect their spiritual wants. We observed in the
Pastoral how strongly he insisted on the duty of preaching, and with what
elaboration he discussed the different kinds of discourse suitable for the
various classes in the community. He believed, with St. Paul, that it was an
indispensable qualification of a bishop that he should be "apt to
teach." As he expresses it in one of his letters, "Whoever comes to
the priesthood, undertakes the office of a preacher." Hence, when he
became Pope, he began forthwith to put his maxim into practice, and throughout
his pontificate he looked upon the instruction of his people as one of the
principal duties of his office. To secure an opportunity for making these
public addresses, he appointed "stations." At a church designated for
the purpose he was met by the clergy and people, and thence he went in solemn
procession to the church of the station. On the chief festivals the church
chosen for the station was usually one of the great basilicas--St. Peter, St.
John Lateran, or St. Mary Major. On the festivals of the lesser saints the
churches selected were generally those which were named after the saints
commemorated, e.g. that of SS. Processus and Martinian,
of St. Felicitas, of St. Agnes, of SS. John and Paul, or of SS. Nereus and
Achilles. The Pope arrived on horseback, escorted by the deacons of the Church
and the high officials of the palace. He was received at the door with
elaborate ceremony, and from the secretarium proceeded to his throne behind the altar. As he passed up the nave seven
candlesticks were borne before him, incense was burnt, and a psalm was chanted
by the choir. The mass was then celebrated and a sermon was preached. During
the delivery of the latter the Pope remained seated in a marble chair.
THE GREGORIAN MUSIC
Closely connected with this question of Gregory's
relation to the Gregorian Sacramentary is the equally obscure and difficult
question of his relation to Gregorian music. Ecclesiastical tradition, as is
well known, ascribes to Gregory three achievements in connection with the
development of Church music. These are
(1) The compilation of an Antiphonary, or book
containing the musical portions of the mass;
(2) the revision and rearrangement of the system of
Church music;
(3) the foundation of the famous Roman Schola
Cantorum.
It is now generally believed by musical experts that
Gregory had nothing whatever to do either with the compilation of the
Antiphonary or with the invention or revival of the cantus planus.
Moreover, it is certain that he was not the founder of the Roman
singing-school, although it is not improbable that he interested himself in its
endowment and extension. I will say a few words, however, on each of these
points in order.
(1) First, as to the Antiphonary. The evidence for the
Gregorian compilation is briefly as follows. In the first half of the eighth
century, Egbert of York saw in Rome the Antiphonary as well as the Sacramentary
attributed to Gregory, and asserts that both books were brought to England by
Augustine. In the first half of the ninth century, Walafrid Strabo writes: "Tradition has it that the blessed Gregory, besides
reordering the masses and consecrations, did also arrange the music of the
Church in practically the same most beautiful form which it still preserves, as
moreover is expressly stated in the beginning of the Antiphonary." A
little later, about the year 850, Leo the Fourth wrote a letter to rebuke a
certain Abbat Honoratus for not appreciating the Gregorian music and liturgy,
and in this respect "differing, not only from the Roman See but from
almost the whole of the Western Church, and indeed from all who in the Latin
tongue offer praise to the Eternal King." Leo adds that Gregory with the
greatest pains had invented the chant, that "by artificially modulated
sound" he might draw to the Church not only ecclesiastics but also the
uncultivated; and the abbat is threatened with
excommunication if he persists in neglecting the teaching of Gregory in the
matter of music and the liturgy. Lastly, John the biographer informs us that,
following the example of Solomon the Wise, and "on account of the
compunction evoked by sweet music," Gregory, with great trouble, compiled
an Antiphonary, "a cento of chants," an authentic copy of which was
still extant in Rome in his own time.
Now, the above evidence proves that about the middle
of the ninth century there existed a uniform body of chant which was in
practically universal use throughout the Western Church, and further, that this
body of chant, together with the book in which it was contained, was connected
by tradition with the name of Gregory the Great. But how far is this tradition
susceptible of proof? Is there any evidence, beyond the mere tradition, which
will justify John's assertion that the Antiphonary was the work of Gregory ?
To this question we can only reply that the weight of
evidence makes against the truth of the tradition. For, to begin with, there is
not the slightest reference to the Antiphonary in any of Gregory's own
writings, nor in his epitaph, nor in the biographies of the monk of Whitby or
of Paul the Deacon, nor in the notice in the Liber Pontificalis.
Isidore and Bede, moreover, who were both of them interested in music, say
nothing whatever on the subject in their allusions to Gregory. Again, the
decree of 595 relating to the singing deacons, and Gregory's caustic language
concerning these professional singers, "who enrage God, while they delight
the people with their accents," indicate a certain indifference to music
rather than the enthusiasm of a musical expert. And lastly, it has been
satisfactorily proved that the so-called Gregorian Antiphonary, while agreeing
with the calendar and Liturgy in use at Rome at the beginning of the eighth
century, does not correspond at all with that of Gregory's time. In fact, the
compilation of the Antiphonary has been ante-dated by more than a hundred
years. It undoubtedly belongs, not to the sixth, but to the eighth century; and
if the epithet "Gregorian" has any real import at all, it must refer
to Gregory the Second (715-731) or, as is more probable, to Gregory the Third
(731-741), who may be supposed to have collected and edited the melodies, many
of which themselves can scarcely have been composed before the close of the
seventh century. We may, therefore, with confidence abandon the tradition that
Gregory the Great had anything to do with the compilation of the Antiphonary.
It is as mythical as the later fable that he wrote the work at the dictation of
an angel in the Oratory of the Holy Cross in the Lateran.
(2) In the second place, we may ask—Can Gregory be
held responsible for any change at all in the system of Church music? So
technical a question can only be dealt with properly by those who are by
training qualified to speak on matters musical. Among these, however, the
latest opinion is that the old ecclesiastical tradition of a rule of four Greek
modes imposed upon the Church by St. Ambrose, and of a great revision and
introduction of four new modes by Gregory, can no longer with any show of
probability be maintained. Thus, for instance, Professor H. E. Wooldridge
summarily disposes of the old belief in the following words: "That the
hymns composed by St. Ambrose are the earliest specimens of Christian
composition known to exist is undoubted, but that they can have constituted an
imposed rule, or any part of such a rule, is most improbable, for it is clear
that the scales employed in these compositions are nothing more than the scales
of the Graeco-Roman citharodi, and that the
hymns conform in all respects to the current classical practice; moreover, the
story of the Gregorian revision and the adoption of the plagal forms of the
supposed original four modes, is now contradicted by the recently discovered
fact that the Christian music as exhibited in the Antiphonary continued upon
the old classical basis, without any change of importance, certainly until the
end of the seventh century, or nearly a hundred years after the time of St.
Gregory." If, then, the opinion of authorities like Professor Wooldridge
and M. Gevaert may be trusted, the Cantus Gregorianus is not of the age of Gregory, and no new system was introduced or invented by
that Pope. The terms "Gregorianus," "Ambrosianus Cantus," probably mean nothing more than
the style of singing according to the respective uses of Rome and of Milan.
The Roman cantus was early introduced into France and
Germany, but it rapidly became corrupted. John the Deacon, who manifests a very
hearty contempt for transmontane singing, tells us that Charlemagne, in
consequence, sent two of his clergy to be instructed in Rome, who afterwards,
on their return, endeavoured to restore the chant to
its original purity. As this measure, however, was found to be insufficient,
Pope Hadrian, at a later time, sent two cantors of the Roman Church to complete
the work of reform. Their efforts were most successful in the city of Metz, and
John informs us that "in proportion as the Roman chant surpassed that of
Metz, so the chant of Metz surpassed that of the other schools of the
French." In Britain also the Roman style of singing was assiduously
cultivated. But the system spread by Putta, James the Deacon, and John the
arch-chanter of St. Peter's, though doubtless the system practised at the period in the singing-school at Rome, can have been connected only in
name with Pope Gregory the First.
(3) Lastly, Gregory is credited by his biographer with
being the founder of the Roman Schola Cantorum. In speaking of the Antiphonarium, or "cento of chants," John says
that Gregory, to perpetuate his work, "founded a school of singers,
endowed it with some estates, and built for it two habitations, one under the
steps of the Basilica of St. Peter the Apostle, the other under the houses of
the Lateran Palace." Gregory himself in his intervals of leisure was
accustomed to give instruction in this school, and in the ninth century the
faithful used to gaze with reverence on certain memorials of his work there—the
couch on which he reclined when he led the singing, the whip with which he
menaced the choir-boys, and the original Antiphonary that he used. So John. But
in this case again we are bound to ask—Are we justified in attaching any
importance to his statement? Or have we here once more a ninth-century
tradition, to which the inaccurate Deacon has given the colour of historical fact?
Now, so far as concerns the foundation of the school,
John is certainly in error. The Schola Cantorum, or, as it was formerly
called, the Orphanotrophium, was in existence
long before the time of Gregory, its foundation being variously ascribed to
Pope Hilarus and Pope Sylvester. Had, then, Gregory
any connection at all with the institution? Though it is by no means certain,
it is just possible that he had. When he prohibited the higher clergy from
singing the musical portions of the mass, he may have found it advisable to
take some steps to supply a deficiency of singers which might otherwise have
been the result of his regulation. In this case, there is no objection to
supposing that he provided some additional endowment for the existing
choir-school, and perhaps also constructed for it a new residence. Such an
hypothesis would, at any rate, explain how the tradition embodied in John
originated. It must be remembered, however, that outside of this tradition
there is no evidence that Gregory took any interest in the school. I may add
that Martene's conjecture, that in Gregory’s time
the Schola included, besides choir-boys, subdeacons and other
inferior ministers, is merely an inference from the decree of 595.
Tradition has not been content to ascribe to Gregory
extensive reforms in the liturgy and music of the Church; it has also
attributed to him the authorship of certain hymns. Eight of these have been
printed by the Benedictines in their edition of Gregory's Works. The most
notable of them is the familiar "Blest Creator of the light." The
remaining seven are: "Primo dierum omnium";
"Nocte surgentes vigilemus omnes"; "Ecce iam noctis tenuatur umbra"; “Clarum decus ieiunii”; "Audi benigne Conditor";
"Magno salutis gaudio";
and "Rex Christe, Factor omnium." The Gregorian authorship of these
compositions, however, cannot be maintained. As M. Gevaert says: “Tout le
monde sait que la liturgie locale de Rome n'admtait pas cette categorie de chants, ni an
VI siècle, ni beaucoup plus tard”.
THE CULT OF THE RELICS
Although Gregory contributed but little to the
Liturgy, and nothing at all to the sacred music and poetry of the Roman Church,
there is yet one respect in which he greatly influenced the religious life of
the city. He used the whole weight of his unrivalled authority to encourage
popular veneration for the relics of the saints. This superstition had been
steadily on the increase ever since the fourth century, owing partly to the
semi-paganism that still so widely prevailed, and partly to the direct encouragement
it received from great Church leaders, such as Basil and Chrysostom in the
East, and Ambrose and Augustine in the West.
In the sixth century the practice of collecting and
venerating relics had assumed startling dimensions. In Gaul especially the
devotion to them was astonishing, and from the writings of Gregory of Tours
alone a long and curious list of these highly esteemed objects might be
compiled. Here amongst the rest we find mentioned the holy spear, the crown of
thorns which kept miraculously green, the pillar of the scourging, and the
seamless coat which was enclosed in a chest in a very secret crypt of a basilica
in a place called Galathea. Here also we read of relics of St. Andrew preserved
at Neuvy, near Tours; blood of St. Stephen in an
altar at Bordeaux; some drops of sea-water which had fallen from the robes of
the proto-martyr when he was seen in a vision after succouring a ship in distress; a shoe of the martyr Epipodius;
and many others. Moreover, the indefinite multiplication of these relics had
been already provided for by a very simple expedient.
It was taught and believed that the miraculous powers
of the saint might be manifested not only through his actual relics, but also
through objects which had been associated therewith, such as dust from his
tomb, oil from the lamps which burnt before it, and rags of cloth which had
been placed on the sarcophagus. These objects, as well as the original relics,
were deposited in reliquaries (sanctuaria) and
preserved in churches, either underneath or within the altar; sometimes they
were borne in solemn procession; occasionally they were worn by private
individuals about their persons.
In the sixth century they were regarded as necessary
for the consecration of churches, and frequently, in the case of old churches
which had not been dedicated in this way, the omission was supplied. The belief
in the power of relics to work miracles, whether for the succour of those who venerated them or for the punishment of those who treated them
disrespectfully, was universal. And this led to their being treated by some as
a profitable article of commerce: genuine relics were hawked about for sale,
and when the supply failed, spurious ones were unblushingly manufactured.
This cultus, as I have said, Gregory did everything in
his power to stimulate. He was eager for the acquisition of relics. It is said
that he himself brought to Rome an arm of St. Andrew and the head of St. Luke;
certainly he ordered the tunic of St. John to be sent thither from Sicily for
deposition under the altar of St. John Lateran. John the Deacon remarks that in
his time two vestments lay under this altar, and he identifies the one with the
small sleeves as the relic brought by Gregory: the other, he conjectures, was
the dalmatic of St. Paschasius. Among other important relics in Rome in
Gregory's time were the gridiron of St. Lawrence, a portion of the wood of the
Holy Cross, and various relics of St. John the Baptist! A nail from the cross
of St. Peter is said to have been sent by Gregory to a recluse named
Secundinus. The chains of St. Paul, together with those of St. Peter, were
preserved with great veneration, and it is worth noting that the latter are
mentioned for the first time in Gregory's correspondence. These chains of the
Prince of the Apostles were Gregory’s favourite relic, and he was accustomed to send to his friends fragments filed from them
enclosed in a cross or a key of St. Peter's sepulchre.
Thus in 603 he wrote to his friend Eulogius, who
suffered from weak eyes: "I have sent you a little cross, in which is
inserted a gift of the chains of the Apostles St. Peter and St. Paul, who love
you well. Let this be continually applied to your eyes, for many miracles have
been often wrought by this same gift." A key, containing similar filings,
was forwarded by Gregory to Theoctista, sister of the Emperor, and to enhance
the value of the present, he relates the following story:—A certain Lombard,
who found it by chance during the sack of a city, caring nothing for the sacred
filings, dared to cut the golden case with his knife. Immediately afterwards he
was seized by an evil spirit, and compelled to draw his knife across his
throat. The death of the man so terrified his comrades that no one would
venture to lift the key from the ground, until a pious Catholic named Mimulf came forward and picked it up. After which King
Authari sent it back to Rome, along with another key of gold, and an account of
the strange miracle that had been wrought.
By far the most cherished relics in Rome, however,
were the bodies of the martyred Apostles, St. Peter and St. Paul. It was on
these that the Romans prided themselves; it was to worship before these that
vast multitudes of pilgrims came from every land to "the threshold of the
Apostles." We may imagine, then, Gregory's amazement and indignation, when
in 594 he received a letter from the Empress Constantina, requesting him to
send to her the head or some other part of the body of St. Paul, to deposit in
the new church which she was building, within the precincts of her palace, in honour of that Apostle. Such a request, of course, it was
impossible to grant, and Gregory was obliged to refuse point-blank to comply
with the Empress's wishes. The letter in which he explains the reasons of his
refusal is of the greatest interest, throwing, as it does, a flood of light on
the relic-cultus at this time prevalent.
"As I should gladly receive from you any orders
to which I might render prompt obedience, and so increase your favour towards me, I feel the greater sorrow because you
require of me what I cannot and dare not do. The bodies of the Apostles St.
Peter and St. Paul are glorified in their churches by such miracles and awful
prodigies, that no one can approach those churches even for prayer without
great fear. Indeed, when my predecessor, of blessed memory, wished to change
the silver covering which was over the most sacred body of the blessed Apostle
Peter, though at a distance of nearly fifteen feet from it, there appeared to
him a most alarming portent. Nay, I myself wished to make a similar improvement
near the most sacred body of St. Paul the Apostle, and for this purpose it was
necessary to make somewhat deep excavations close to his tomb. Here the
guardian of the place discovered some bones, which, however, did not touch the
tomb; but as he ventured to take them up and move them to another spot, certain
portents of evil appeared, and lie died suddenly.
Besides this, my predecessor of holy memory wished
also to make some improvements where the body of St. Lawrence the Martyr lay.
As no one knew exactly where the venerable body had been placed, they dug in
search of it, and in their ignorance they unexpectedly opened his sarcophagus.
The monks and sacristans who were working there, and who saw the martyr's
body—though they did not for a moment venture to touch it—all died within ten
days, so that no one who saw the body of that just man survived.
I have further to inform my Most Serene Lady that when
the Romans give relics of the saints they do not venture to touch any part of
the body but a cloth is enclosed in a box, which is then placed near the
saints' most sacred bodies. This is afterwards taken up and deposited in the
church which is to be dedicated, and the miracles wrought by it are as great as
if the very bodies of the saints had been brought there. Whence it came to pass
that in the time of Pope Leo, of blessed memory, when certain Greeks doubted
the efficacy of such relics, the Pontiff, according to the tradition handed
down by our ancestors, took a pair of scissors and cut the cloth, and as he cut
it blood flowed out. In the regions about Rome, and, indeed, throughout the
West, it is considered quite intolerable and sacrilegious for any one even to
wish to touch the bodies of the saints; and If he ventures to touch them, it is
certain that his temerity will by no means remain unpunished. For this reason
we are extremely surprised at the assertion of the Greeks that they are in the
habit of moving the bones of saints, and we can scarcely believe it. For
certain Greek monks came here two years ago, and in the dead of night dug up
some bodies which were lying in a field near the Church of St. Paul: they
buried the bones again, intending to carry them off when they left Rome. But
being detected and strictly examined as to their motives in so doing, they
confessed that they purposed to carry these bones to Greece as relics of the
saints. This instance makes us the more doubtful whether it is really true that
the Greeks actually move the bones of the saints.
With regard to the bodies of the blessed Apostles,
what am I to say? seeing that it is well known that at the time of their
martyrdom believers came from the East to claim them as the bodies of their
fellow-countrymen. The remains were taken as far as the second milestone from
the city, and placed in a spot which is called the Catacombs. But when the
whole party of these believers assembled and endeavoured to remove them again, they were so terrified by a violent storm of thunder and
lightning that they fled, and never dared to, renew the attempt. Then the
Romans came out of the city, and those who by God's mercy obtained that
privilege, took up the bodies of the Apostles and laid them in the place where
they now are. Who, then, my Most Serene Lady, knowing all this, can be so rash
as to venture —I do not say to touch, but even for an instant to gaze upon
their bodies?
The napkin which you charged me also to send is with
the body, and cannot be touched, because we cannot approach the body. But as
the pious wishes of my Most Serene Lady ought not to be wholly fruitless, I
will, as soon as possible, send you a portion of the chains which the Apostle
St. Paul wore on his neck and hands, and by which many miracles are openly
wrought among the people—that is, if indeed I can succeed in filing off any
particles. For many persons often come and beg for some filings from these chains
as a holy relic. The priest stands by with his file, and in some cases a
particle is immediately detached from the chains, but in others the file is
worked for a long time over the chains, but without the least success."
When we read such a letter as this, we are more than
ever impressed with the conviction that already, at the close of the sixth
century, the world had passed into the twilight of the early Middle Ages. And
this conviction is brought home to us no less forcibly when we come to consider
the attitude which Gregory, the most cultivated Roman of his time, saw fit to
take up with regard to classic learning and literature. The consideration of
this question will bring this chapter on Gregory's life and work in Rome to a
conclusion.
ART AND LITERATURE IN GREGORY'S AGE
Now, the panegyrical John, inaccurate here as
everywhere else, endeavours to exhibit Gregory in the
light of a magnanimous patron of the arts and sciences, and he sketches a
picture of the Papal court such as might almost have been drawn of that of some
humanistic Pontiff of Renaissance. " In Gregory's time," he says,
" Wisdom, as it were, visibly built herself a temple in Rome, and the
seven arts, like seven columns of most precious stones, supported the vestibule
of the Apostolic See. None of those who attended on the Pope, from the least to
the greatest, showed the slightest trace of barbarism either in speech or
attire, but pure Latinity and the use of the
ancient toga and trabea preserved the manner of the life of
Latium in the palace of the Latin Pope." In this remarkable description
the Papal circle is represented as distinguished by a cultured classical
conservatism. The liberal arts—grammar, rhetoric, dialectic, and the rest—are
said to have been encouraged, and the old classical models carefully imitated.
And in his predilection for choice Latinity, this Pontiff of the sixth century
is portrayed as outrivalling his fifteenth-century
successors. Such a picture of classical elegance and refinement in an age of
almost universal barbarism is too startling to be passed over without more
critical examination, and we are bound to inquire whether the outline is correctly
drawn, and whether the colouring is true.
Now, Gregory of Tours, who was himself a contemporary
of his namesake of Rome, in the preface to his History, makes a very melancholy
statement about the culture of his time. " The cultivation of
letters," he says, " is disappearing or rather perishing in the
cities of Gaul. Not a single grammarian skilled in dialectics can be found to
describe the general course of events, whether in prose or in verse. Whereat
many often lament, saying, 'Alas for our age! for the study of literature has perished
among us, and the man is no longer to be found who can commit to writing the
events of the time".
This lament, the truth of which is abundantly
illustrated by the prose of Gregory himself, as well as by the doggerel of
Fortunatus, the poet of the period, applies no doubt in the first instance to
the state of culture in Gaul. There are, however, sufficient indications that
it might have been uttered with equal truth over the decay of learning in Rome;
and from the writings of Pope Gregory himself we learn several details which go
to show that the study of letters in the Eternal City had reached the lowest
ebb. We gather, for instance, that of all the sciences, that of medicine alone
flourished. Of the other arts we hear nothing. The old schools of grammar,
rhetoric, dialectic, and jurisprudence, which had formerly been endowed by the
State, were in all probability broken up. Gregory, at least, says not a word
about them, nor in his letters do we get a single mention of any Roman
professor or man of learning. That classical literature was any longer studied
seems unlikely. Gregory himself had been the foremost scholar of his time, yet
while even his namesake of Tours shows some acquaintance with Virgil, Pliny,
Sallust, and Aulus Gellius, and while even Fortunatus
sometimes echoes the Roman poets, the writings of the Pope show scarcely a
trace of any knowledge of the ancient authors. Hardly anyone in Rome could
speak or write in the Greek language. The few interpreters that were found, besides
being untrustworthy, were so bad at their work that they made sheer nonsense of
the documents which they tried to render into Latin.
The great classical libraries seem to have been either
closed or destroyed. The scanty collections which were being gradually formed
in the Lateran and some of the churches were miserably defective even in works
connected with theology. For instance, not a single copy of the writings of St.
Irenaeus, or of the acts and canons of the Second General Council of
Constantinople, was to be found in Rome. Even the Acts of the Saints were not
discoverable in the libraries of the Church. Hence, when Eulogius of Alexandria requested Gregory to send him a copy of The Acts of all the
Martyrs, compiled by Eusebius, Gregory replied that he had never heard of the
work: "For besides what is contained about the acts of the holy martyrs in
the books of the same Eusebius, I am not aware of any collections in the
archives of the Roman Church, or in the libraries of the city, unless it be a
small collection contained in a single volume. We have, indeed, the names of
almost all the martyrs, with their passions assigned to particular days,
collected in one volume, and on each of these days we celebrate mass in their honour. Yet the volume does not say who each martyr was, or
how he suffered; only the name together with the place and day of martyrdom is
recorded."
To represent this stagnant, already mediaeval city as
a temple of wisdom and palace of the arts is obviously ridiculous. If Gregory's
Letters tell us anything at all, they show us plainly that classicism in Rome
was utterly extinguished; that literature, art, and culture were dead and
buried; that the only liberal study which survived was that which concerned the
development of the doctrine and traditions of the Church. That Gregory himself,
moreover, was perfectly content with this state of affairs, that he neither
wished nor attempted to recall the ancient classical culture, may be shown
without difficulty from his recorded sentiments and even from the admissions of
his laudatory biographer.
Those who endeavour to
defend Gregory as a friend to secular learning, rely for their proof mainly on
a passage in the Commentary on the First of Kings, attributed to his pen. The
author of the paragraph writes as follows: "Although the learning to be
obtained from secular books is not directly beneficial to the saints in their
spiritual conflict, yet, when it is united to the study of Holy Scripture, men
attain to a profounder knowledge of Scripture itself. The liberal arts ought,
therefore, to be cultivated, in order that we may gain through them a more
accurate knowledge of God's Word. But the evil spirits expel the desire for
learning from the hearts of some, to the intent that, being destitute of
secular knowledge, they may be unable to reach the loftier heights of spiritual
knowledge. For the devils know well that by acquaintance with secular
literature we are helped in sacred knowledge." The author goes on to show
how that Moses, Isaiah, and St. Paul were gifted with spiritual perception in a
pre-eminent degree, because they had laid a sound foundation in a good secular
education. And he concludes: "If we are ignorant of profane science, we
are unable to penetrate the depth of the Sacred Word." Now, if it could be
shown that the author of this extract was Gregory himself, we could not avoid
the conclusion that the Pope approved of a secular education, provided that it
was strictly subordinated to the study of theology. Unfortunately, however, the
Commentary on Kings is the work, certainly not of Gregory, but either of
Claudius, who is known to have misrepresented Gregory's sentiments, or else, as
is more probable, of some later writer unknown. The extract accordingly proves
nothing whatsoever. And if we wish to discover Gregory's opinion of the liberal
arts, we must seek for it only in such of his writings as are genuine beyond
dispute.
To begin with, then, we get, as it were, a side-light
on Gregory's sentiments, in the introduction to his Life of St. Benedict. Here,
after relating how that saint was sent to Rome to acquire a liberal education,
Gregory continues thus: "But when he saw that many of the students rushed
headlong into vice, he withdrew from the world he had just entered, lest, in
acquiring worldly knowledge, he might also fall down the same terrific
precipice. Despising, therefore, the study of letters, he desired only to please
God by a holy life. Accordingly, he departed from Rome, skillfully ignorant and
wisely unlearned." The concluding sentence certainly does not prove that
Gregory discountenanced secular studies, but it could scarcely have been
uttered by one who was enthusiastic in their defence,
nor even by one who (like the pseudo-Gregory just quoted) taught publicly that
disinclination for learning was a temptation of the devil. If, however, there
still remains a doubt as to his mind on this question, the famous letter to
Desiderius bishop of Vienne, ought to set it at rest.
This Desiderius was one of the few men of culture left
in Gaul, and one, moreover, who took a keen and practical interest in the
promotion of education. He even ventured to give lectures himself on grammar
and to read the poets to the young men of his cathedral town. The report of
these doings came at length to Rome, filling Gregory with amazement and even
horror. "A report has reached me," he wrote to Desiderius, "a
report which I cannot mention without a blush, that you are lecturing on
profane literature to certain friends; whereat I am filled with such grief and
vehement disgust that my former opinion of you has been turned to mourning and
sorrow. For the same mouth cannot sing the praises of Jupiter and the praises
of Christ. Consider yourself how offensive, how abominable a thing it is for a
bishop to recite verses which are unfit to be recited even by a religious
layman ... If, hereafter, it shall be clearly established that the information
I received was false, and that you are not applying yourself to the idle
vanities of secular literature, I shall render thanks to God, who has not
allowed your heart to be polluted by the blasphemous praises of unspeakable
men."
It is impossible to explain away language such as
this. Even John the Deacon, who did his best to make Gregory appear the most
enlightened of Popes, was forced to recognize that the sentiments here
expressed were unfavourable to secular studies.
Indeed, he even tells us that "Gregory forbade all bishops to read pagan
literature"—a statement, it is true, which is probably only an inaccurate
inference from the letter to Desiderius, but which, nevertheless, correctly indicates
the direction in which Gregory's influence was exerted. In the opinion of the
greatest of the Popes it was unseemly even for laymen to devote themselves to
the humane sciences; for bishops to do so was a grave scandal. From this
conclusion there seems to be no escape.
In Gregory's defence,
however, there are, perhaps, a few considerations which should in fairness be
brought forward. In the first place—if this, indeed, is any excuse—his language
may be paralleled from the writings of other men of letters, both in his own
time and later. Thus Gregory of Tours, when referring to Jerome's punishment
for reading Cicero and Virgil, writes: " We ought therefore to write and
speak only such things as may edify the Church of God, and with a holy
instruction may render fruitful in the knowledge of the perfect faith minds
which have hitherto been uncultivated. We must not record deceitful fables, we
must not follow a philosophy which is at enmity with God, lest by the judgment
of God we fall into the condemnation of eternal death." Alcuin, again, in
the eighth century, is reported to have said to his pupils: "The sacred
poets are sufficient for you, and there is no reason why you should be polluted
with the impure eloquence of Virgil." And Lancfranc,
who led the revival of learning in the eleventh century, wrote in answer to a
friend: "You have sent me for solution some questions on secular
literature, but it is unbecoming for a bishop to be occupied with such studies.
Formerly I spent the days of my youth in these things, but when I undertook the
pastoral office I determined to renounce them." If Gregory thought
wrongly, we must at least admit that he did so in good company.
Again, Gregory's attitude is largely accounted for by
his conviction that the end of the world was close at hand. "As firmly as
the octogenarian believes that his life is drawing to its close, so firmly did
Gregory believe that the world was near its end." The desolation of Italy
by the Lombards, the ravages of the terrible lees inguinaria,
the convulsions of nature, the disorganization of society,—all seemed to him to
be but prognostications of the approach of the final crisis. The future had
dwindled to a span. What folly, then, to spend the precious moments in poring
over the literature of a dissolute paganism! What madness to linger in the
thought of the classic past, when the footstep of the avenger was even now
sounding at the gates! Prayer and penitence and study of the Scriptures seemed
to Gregory to be the only fitting occupation for leisured Christians in these
last days.
Again, it is not unlikely that Gregory had good reason
for believing that the old literature exercised an unhealthy influence on the
minds of sixth-century students. It was scarcely possible for a scholar of this
time to study the classics in the modern spirit of detachment, admiring their
literary qualities, without being affected by the sentiments which they
expressed. And there was doubtless a real danger that these pagan sentiments,
clothed in such perfect literary form, might take root in the minds of susceptible
Christian readers. If, then, a philosopher like Plato could banish from his
ideal Republic even the masterpieces of Greek poetry, we can scarcely blame a
Christian moralist for discountenancing the study of such authors as Horace,
Ovid, and Martial. Moreover, it must not be forgotten that, even in the sixth
century, paganism was hardly dead. In many of the country districts the old
deities were still worshipped ; and even where this was not the case, men
nevertheless regarded them, not yet as myths, as mere creations of the poetic
imagination, but as real existences, as demons, spirits of evil, who were still
capable of perverting those who in any way paid them homage. If this belief be
taken into account, we shall no longer find much difficulty in comprehending
the tone of Gregory's letter to Desiderius. It was, indeed, scarcely proper
that a bishop should preach God in his cathedral, and recite poems in praise of
demons in his lecture-room. "The same mouth cannot sing the praises of Jupiter
and the praises of Christ."
It seems, then, that while we cannot acquit Gregory of
the charge of being hostile to secular learning, there are yet reasons which
may lead us to mitigate our condemnation. At any rate, his hostility was not
inspired by mere barbarous dislike of knowledge as such. For theological
learning at least he had a profound respect. "In the priest's
vestments," he writes, "gold is prominent, to show that he ought to
shine forth conspicuously in understanding and wisdom. We ought by reading to
acquire within ourselves a measure of God's Spirit, which, if need arise, we
may hereafter manifest by suffering." In more than one of his letters he
impresses on his clergy the duty of studying the Scriptures and the Fathers,
and his ecclesiastical appointments were often determined by the qualifications
of the candidates in this regard. His own theological attainments were
considerable. His knowledge of Scripture was profound, as also was his
knowledge of the writings of Augustine. He unsparingly devoted time and thought
to the exposition and development of dogma, and he "contributed more than
any one person that can be named to fix the form and tone of mediaeval
religious thought." Nevertheless, in consequence of his repudiation of
classical literature, Gregory came to be regarded comparatively early as the
very type of a Vandal and a Goth. Thus in the twelfth century John of Salisbury
declares that “this most holy doctor Gregory, who watered and inebriated the
whole Church with the honied showers of his preaching”, not only banished from
his court the study of astrology, but also, “according to the tradition handed
down by our ancestors”, committed to the flames the contents of the libraries
on the Palatine and the Capitol, in order to ensure the exclusive study of the
Scriptures."
A yet later tradition adds that the Pope showed
special animosity against the works of Cicero and Livy, causing all copies he
could get hold of to be burnt or suppressed. These stories, however, we may
confidently reject. Gregory, it is true, was no lover of classical literature;
but there is no evidence that he desired to suppress it altogether. And even
had he possessed the wish to do so, he would scarcely have had the power. The
libraries were not the property of the Pope, but of the Emperor, and we cannot
believe that the latter would have sanctioned their destruction. Moreover, had
Gregory really distinguished himself by such an act of vandalism, it is
scarcely possible that even so unblushing a panegyrist as John the Deacon could
have held him up to admiration as a patron of the humanities. It appears,
therefore, that the libelous tradition became current sometime after the ninth
century, but, whether early or late, it is almost certainly without foundation.
Similar arguments may be advanced against another
legend put into circulation by an ignorant Dominican friar of Orvieto in the
fourteenth century, to the effect that Gregory mutilated the statues of Rome.
It was also said that he destroyed ancient buildings. Platina, in the fifteenth
century, repeats these charges, but unhesitatingly rejects them: "We ought
not to suffer Gregory to be censured by a few ignorant men, as if the ancient
stately buildings were demolished by his order, upon this pretence which they make for him, lest strangers coming out of devotion to Rome should
less regard the consecrated places and spend all their gaze upon triumphal
arches and monuments of antiquity. No reproach can justly be fastened on this
great Bishop, especially considering that he was a native of the city, and one
to whom, next after God, his country was most dear, even above his life."
Again, respecting the statues, he says: “Some tell us that (Pope) Sabinian was,
at the instigation of some Romans, thus highly incensed against Gregory,
because he had mutilated and thrown down the statues of the ancients which had
been set up throughout the city; but this is a charge as dissonant from truth
as that of his demolishing the old fabrics, concerning which we have spoken in his
Life: and considering the antiquity of these statues, and the casualties which
might befall them, and the designs which men's covetousness or animosity might
have upon them, it is fairly probable that they might be mangled or lost,
without Gregory's being at all concerned therein”. With the opinion of this
fifteenth-century biographer, the judgment of modern historians is in complete
accord.
In conclusion, it remains to show how far Gregory's
contempt for secular culture and literature is reflected in the style and
composition of his own writings.
Now, in the dedicatory letter prefixed to the Magna Moralia there occurs a celebrated passage
which has a bearing on this question. “In looking through this work”, he
writes, “do not expect to find the foliage of eloquence, for by the sacred
Oracles commentators are expressly debarred from the frivolity of barren
wordiness, in that it is forbidden to plant a grove in the temple of God.
Besides, we all know that whenever the stalks of corn are too luxuriant in
leaves, the ears are deficient in grain. It is for this reason that I have
disdained to observe the rules of composition which the teachers of secular
learning recommend. As this very letter shows, I do not attempt to avoid the
collision of words called metacism, or the
obscurity of barbarians. I do not care to observe the position, force, or
government of prepositions, for I think it absolutely intolerable to fetter the
words of the Divine Oracle by the rules of Donatus. Nor have these rules been
observed by the translators of any authorized version of the Holy Scriptures”.
After such an exordium we should naturally expect to
find that Gregory's prose style was scarcely more cultivated than that of his
namesake of Tours. The latter writer was also very sensible of his literary
deficiencies. “I ask pardon of my readers”, he writes, “if I shall have
violated in letters or in syllables the rules of grammar, with which I am not
thoroughly acquainted”. And again, “I ask the indulgence of my readers, for I
have not been trained in the study of grammar or instructed in the polite literature
of secular authors”. In the case of this Bishop of Tours there is certainly
good reason for such apology. His Latinity is exceedingly corrupt. As he so
frankly confesses, he is constantly transgressing the rules of grammar, both
with regard to the genders of words and the use of prepositions. The accusative
absolute is frequently used for the ablative; the force of particular
conjunctions is often lost or changed from the classical use. He is unsound on
his moods and tenses. His style is utterly unpolished, rough, and often
obscure. And his narrative of events is extremely confused and ill-arranged.
Those who look to find similar grammatical chaos in
the writings of the Roman Gregory will be agreeably disappointed. His style, it
is true, has been affected by the prevailing barbarism. He modelled himself on
Augustine, but he was no less inferior to Augustine than his contemporary
Fortunatus was to Ausonius. The construction of his sentences is often clumsy
and involved. The natural order of words is frequently tampered with, certainly
without any advantage in euphony or force. The words themselves are sometimes
unclassical, or used in an unclassical sense or with unclassical constructions.
But in admitting all this we have said the worst that can be said. Gregory's
style is simple and unartificial, but still idiomatic
and generally grammatical. He expresses his meaning with clearness and point.
Often his language is dignified and impressive; sometimes, in moments of
passion or excitement, it rises even to eloquence. Sound sense and good feeling
are the characteristics of his writings. His allusion to the rules of Donatus,
then, must not be interpreted quite literally. It represents nothing more than
a general protest against that pedantic grammatical criticism which was
affected by the “philosophizing rhetoricians” of the Gallic schools. And we may
indeed be thankful that Gregory was content to forego the parade of learning
for the sake of explaining his views in a style and language which practical
men could understand and appreciate.
Gregory's letters, more than eight hundred in number,
are of inestimable value for the history of this period. In them we find
contemporary life portrayed with lucidity and faithfulness.
Standing, as he did, a central figure of this
sixth-century world, Gregory in his correspondence sympathetically reproduces
every phase of its life and thought, drawing, as it were, line upon line, an
inimitable picture of the age in which he lived. In this respect the very
simplicity of his style is of the greatest advantage. The preciosity of
Sidonius, the involved turgidity of Ennodius, the cumbersome pedantry of
Cassiodorus, have marred the letters composed by these authors, and to some
extent lessened their value. But no such defects interrupt our pleasure in
reading the correspondence of Gregory. He makes no attempt at fine writing or
at display of learning. But in plain and perspicuous language he explains his
views and wishes, and gives an account of the events of his time. From
beginning to end of the fourteen books of the Epistolae we cannot fail to recognize the hand, not certainly of a literary master, but
of a well-educated man who could think and observe, and moreover could clothe
his thoughts and observations in vigorous and appropriate language. There are
few post-classical compositions which attain to a higher pitch of excellence.
In this chapter I have endeavoured to give some account of Gregory's life and work in Rome, particularly with
reference to such matters as intimately concerned the Roman people and the
Roman Church. It must not be forgotten, however, that Rome was the
head-quarters of all Gregory's activity. After he became Pope he seems never to
have left the city. Winter and summer, in cold and in heat, he remained in the
Lateran, frequently prostrate with illness, but always at work upon the
overwhelming mass of business which demanded his attention. How he conducted
this business, what was his policy and ideal, what impression he made on the
greater world outside the city walls, it will be the object of the following
chapters to explain.
|
