03.14. Chapter 14 - The First English Bible

Chapter 14 The First English Bible

We shall not trouble to trace how the many companies of Saxon invaders quarrelled and fiercely fought among themselves, shaping out the various kingdoms of the Saxon Heptarchy. Let us look rather for the brave men who were willing to risk everything in the endeavour to relight the lamp of truth in eastern Britain. As we have seen, Columba formed a Christian community at Iona in 563. From this centre Evangelists went forth all over the north of Europe. Burgundy, France, and Switzerland were reached by these earnest men. The islands of Orkney, Shetland, and Faroe were not neglected, and we read that even Iceland was visited, though we may well doubt if their frail boats could possibly navigate such dangerous waters.

Kentigern was labouring meantime in Cumberland. Had he received more support from the Iona brethren, England might have been saved from the Romish invasion. Columba died in 597: in 597 Augustine landed in Kent. Here begins the Italian mission: it is going on still. But much of the apparent success of the sixth century has to be greatly discounted if we are to arrive at a true estimate of its real worth, as we shall see later.

Kent was chosen for a landing-place because here reigned the Christian Queen Bertha, with her pagan husband Ethelbert.

Royal ladies fill a large place in life, and just as Rowena, unintentionally perhaps, had brought evil, so Bertha brought good. In the first place she induced the King to receive the missionaries kindly. Next year he professed to be converted, and 10,000 of his people followed. If we are to believe Augustine’s report, all were baptized in one day. We hear nothing, alas! of the vital essentials of repentance towards God and faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ. The 3,000 converted on the Day of Pentecost were pricked in their heart and said, "What shall we do?"

Augustine then "converted" the temples by washing them with "holy water," and instead of heathen idols he substituted popish idols, with relics of the saints. Soon, alas! the savage worshippers of Odin saw little difference between the old religion and the new.

We read of one, King Redwald, who had been baptized, but who had "an altar to Christ, and another on which he immolated victims to the devil."

Pope Gregory was overjoyed at the success of the mission. He made Augustine an Archbishop, and wrote to him: "All the bishops of Britain we comit to your charge, that the unlearned may be instructed, the weak be strengthened, and the perverse be corrected by your authority." But the British churches refused the authority of the monk, and very rightly said: "We will have no master but Christ." Conferences were arranged at which the proud Archbishop, "seated upon his throne," tried to bring them to subjection without success. Losing patience, it seems, in face of their devotedness, he threatened that if they would not receive the papal agents as friends they would find them to be enemies.

Augustine died. Ethelbert died. The good Queen Bertha died. Eanbald succeeded to the throne. Soon the priests quarrelled with the new King. Then the King went back to his heathen rites, "and a great portion of his subjects changed their religion with him." The "success" of the Romish mission had been more apparent than real. It is one thing to profess a religion it is quite another to see ourselves as lost sinners needing a Saviour. In the kingdom of Essex the same events took place, and the priests had to flee. Then King Eanbald "became a Christian again." Let us hope that this time it was more than mere profession. Anyway, he hurled down his heathen idols and pagan altars; he forbade sacrifices to Odin, and invited the priests from Essex to take refuge in his kingdom. Very right, too, were the scruples he urged when the young King Edwine of Northumbria sent to demand his sister in marriage "It is wrong," said he, "for a Christian maiden to become the wife of a pagan husband; of one who would neither share with her in the holy sacrament nor kneel down with her to worship the same holy God." The Scriptures say, "Be not unequally yoked together," and this erstwhile pagan King had learned the lesson yet to be learned by many today who profess to call Jesus, Lord.

King Edwine, however, solemnly promised to give every freedom, both to his young bride and to all the Christians who might come with her. So, like her mother before, the royal lady set forth to sojourn among strangers. Like her mother, also, her influence was for good in the end.

Queen Edilburga listened to the preaching of the Bishop Paulinus who had accompanied her, and her gentle spirit was strengthened by the truth of the Gospel. To Edwine the stormy halls of Odin were, as yet, more congenial than the grace and peace of Christ. When his little daughter was born he "gave solemn thanks to Odin," but he also allowed her to "be baptized as a Christian."

We see in King Edwine a true-hearted man in dark days seeking after light. He next called a conference of his ealdormen and pagan priests to discuss the new religion. We must pause a moment here and listen to their interesting conversation. Coifu, the chief priest, spoke first, and spoke well.

"Not one of your whole Court, O King," said he, "has been more attentive to the worship of your gods than I myself, although many have received richer benefits and prospered more than I have done. Now, if these gods had been of any real use, would they not have assisted me? And in the new preaching, I freely confess, I seem to find the truth I sought, for it promises us the gifts of life, salvation, and eternal bliss."

Coifu sits down, and no one seems able to refute his able argument. We look into the dark faces of the priests of Odin and the stern countenances of the Saxon warriors gathered round their King to see who will rise next. An aged councillor, with a faraway look in his eyes, makes answer: "The soul of man, O King, is like a sparrow which, in a dark and dreary night, passes for a moment through the door of your hall. Entering, it is surrounded by light and warmth and is safe from the wintry storm. But after a short spell of brightness and quiet, it flies out through another door into the dark from whence it came. Such, O King, is the life of man: for a moment it is visible, but what was before or what comes after we know not. If this new religion can tell us anything about these mysteries, by all means let us follow it."

After this they went to Godmundham (the house of gods), destroyed the idols, and levelled the buildings with the ground.

We trust Paulinus was able to teach them clearly about the life and immortality brought to light through the Gospel, and we are sure that both he and his fellow-labourers were faithful to the truth they knew, or else they could never have made the good impression they did among the fierce idol worshippers of Saxon England. Edwine used his powerful influence to support the missionary efforts in various directions, and extend his own power as well, for it seems he had ambitious dreams. His rule reached to the sea on the west, and extended north as far as Edwinsburgh, where "he built for himself a great castle on the rock," and there it is until this day. So he went on and prospered. But Edwine’s greatness came to a sad end. The fierce pagan King Penda of Mercia, "a man who could no more live without fighting than he could without food," came against him with a great army, and Edwine was slain. On that dark battlefield he laid him down to sleep the sleep no dreams disturb, and men began again to think that the "new religion," which taught peace and goodwill, was not good enough for kings. And so nearly all the land became pagan as before. The gentle Edilburga, with her children, fled to Kent, and Paulinus fled with her. Her brother received her kindly and sorrowfully, and she afterwards retired to a convent. Such was the ending to a lifetime of dramatic events. As a little girl, forty years before, she had no doubt learned the Gospel at her mother’s knee. Then she had seen the strange procession of monks that visited her father’s Court. She had looked with childish awe and wonder on the figure of the Redeemer exhibited on the missionaries’ banners. She had seen her father throw down his blood-stained altars at the call of the true faith, and had witnessed the same experience in her husband’s history. But all the good work had not come to an end. We read much in the Book of Acts about the influence of devout women, and we find many similar cases in Saxon history. Edwine’s little girl, who had been "baptized as a Christian," grew up to be the wife of another Christian King of Northumbria, and Queen Eanflaed, like her mother and grand-mother before her, used her influence in a right way. But meantime one King after another stepped on to Edwine’s vacant throne. We seem to see mere phantoms lifting a crown on to their brows, only to be hurled down in a moment, and they themselves passing to an untimely grave. But what we are most interested in is the sad fact that during these civil commotions it seemed as if a wet sponge had been drawn across the face of the land and had wiped Christianity entirely out of Northumbria. "It was a time that was hateful to all good men." But when heathenism seemed about to close in once more, a young heir to the throne appeared in the person of Oswald, the "Saint King," who had been an exile in Iona. Oswald set himself to recover his people to the faith of the Gospel. The Latin missionaries had fled from the land when Edwine was slain. Oswald, therefore, turned to Iona, and from Iona came the man who has been called the "Apostle of England," St Aidan. For the eight years of Oswald’s reign these two men, with their fellow-helpers, worked nobly together. No sanction from Rome was asked for. They had learned the Gospel of Christ, and in His Name they went forth to proclaim it. The King often acted as interpreter to the missionary until Aidan acquired the language.

Aidan’s headquarters were at Lindisfarne, a short distance from Bamborough, the royal residence. Here a school was established, and young men trained for the mission field. But the heathen King Penda was again on the march, and after eight short years all Oswald’s good work had to be laid down. But the javelin that transfixed him on his last fatal field did not overthrow the work so well done during his life.

Oswy, his younger brother, came to the throne, and once again the old heathen King appeared. Oswy retreated as far north as the Firth of Forth, and offered large gifts. But Penda declared that he came to make an end of Oswy and not to take tribute. In the battle which followed, the last champion of the heathen gods fell on the field, and with the death of Penda the most powerful opponent of Christianity passed from the scene. Never again did the land revert to the heathenism introduced by the Anglo-Saxons.

Two other events we must notice about this time, and then we shall cease to follow the fortunes of the followers of the Book and come back to the Book itself. The first of these events introduces us to another devout woman of the period. The Abbess Hilda was of the royal house of Edwine, who was her grand-uncle. She had been baptized when a girl of thirteen, and was one of the educated women of the time who gave themselves and their possessions to the cause of the Gospel. With the help of Aidan she had founded a monastery and school at Whitby, and from it many missionaries went forth not only through Northumbria but as far south as Essex. Here lived Caedmon, who has been called the father of English poetry. His verse had this recommendation, that it put the words of Scripture in simple language before the people. Here is a sample.