Necessary Items for the Work of the Scribe

Pen and Ink.

Pen and Ink, pen and ink;
Can I write with pen and ink?
Open the bottle, dip the nib,
A few words written then dip and write.
Did I do this at school and work?
Dip then write, dip then write,
Fill the page and don’t make blots!
Scribes of old their life did spend
With feather pen and well beside,
Writing, dipping, through the years,
Filling books, writing, writing,
Dipping, dipping,constant dipping.

Peggy's Thoughts on the Venerable Bede

When I was a very young child I had a history book which included a section on the Venerable Bede who I thought must have been an extremely old gentleman who must have looked something like Father Christmas dressed in a brown robe instead of red. The term ‘venerable’ sounds so ancient. Looking back it strikes me as quite unusual that a history book for a
child only just able to read should have had the Venerable Bede in it at all. Not that I am complaining. This little book must have started an interest in history that has lasted thoughout my life.
Bede was probably born in the year A.D.673 in Northumbria. When he was seven years old he was placed by his parents into the care of Benedict Biscop who was abbot of the new monastery of Saint Peter at Wearmouth and also of the monastery of Saint Paul at Jarrow. Here he remained for two years when he was transferred to Saint Paul’s which had become a joint-foundation with Saint Peter’s. Here he was in the care of Abbot Ceolfrid where he lived for the rest of his life. He must have received a splendid education which enabled him to become one of the most learned of men for his time. Whether we should consider such an upbringing correct for a little boy in these modern times is another matter. I should like to know from what social level of society these little boys came and whatever they must have felt when they were taken to the monastery. Surely they must have suffered terribly from homesickness. Did they ever see their parents again? It is difficult to imagine what the life of a little boy must have been like in such circumstances. There would have been numbers of such children. Did they ever play, I wonder, or were they always sternly kept at their books when they were not at prayer? There would have been singing which for the musically inclined must have been a pleasure.
However, our main consideration in this short treatise is the fact that he became such a knowledgeable historian without whose work we ourselves should have little knowledge of the dark ages in England between the collapse of the Roman empire and the eighth century
Here is a tale which probably refers to Bede. There was a plague which killed many of the choir monks to the great distress of the abbot. He decided that the services would have to be celebrated without the usual music, which made the sadness of bereavement even greater. The survivors, including a boy who had been educated in the monastery and who was now a priest, together with the abbot, managed to sing the psalms as they were in the habit of doing until they could train some more choir monks. The priest is believed to have been Bede.
Bede was a great lover of the regular monastic day with its hours for worship, opportunities for intellectual study, and his literary work. There was also the menial work which I believe was joined in by all the monks. The highly intellectual had to take their share of whatever hard work had to be done.
Here is an extract from a letter written by Alcuin to the community at Wearmouth. It is attributed to Bede :….’I know that the angels are present at the canonical Hours, and what if they do not find me among the brethren when they assemble? Will they not say, Where is Bede? Why does he not attend the appointed devotions with his brethren?’
Bede tells that he was made deacon at the age of nineteen by Bishop John of Hexham, who was known later as Saint John of Beverley. This was
an early age for admission to the deaconate, proof that Bede was already recognised by Abbot Ceolfrid as an exceptionally brilliant devotee to the monastic life. He spent many years of his life compiling material for his ‘History of the English Church and the English People’, a remarkable work.
It is difficult to imagine what it must have been like to be a writer, a historian, or a scribe who copied the works of others in those distant times. These days we have the advantages of word processors, computers and so many different ways of getting information on various subjects, that to think of our only necessaries being quill pens, ink, parchment and, of course, the beautiful paints and gold which were used for illumination, seems impossible. So many hours must have been spent at literary work. When I think of the cold northern winters I wonder how they must have kept their hands warm enough to write.
There was much correspondence between learned men of the day and they discussed by this means many of the problems and interests of that time. It must have taken a great deal of patience to wait for the length of time which must pass before receiving answers to one’s letters. We have lost that art in these modern times. Everything has to be instant, new and improved!
Bede’s writing must have been fitted in between the devotional hours of the church, with time being ruled by the bells which rang for prayers. How did he, or any others of his profession, get enough sleep with the day beginning with Matins and Lauds in the early hours of the morning, Prime, celebrated at the beginning of the working day, Terce at the third hour (9.00a.m.), Sext at the sixth hour (noon), None at the ninth hour (3.00 p.m.)? This was followed by the Mass. Vespers was celebrated at sunset, usually before supper. Compline ended the day, and then at last it was time for sleep. An active part of the work of the monastery had to be taken by all, which must have meant that there could never have been a single moment free for what most of us enjoy, a few moments of leisure. Mass and the regular Hours of prayer were the reason for the existence of the monasteries and the monks within , and everything else had to fit around that fact.
Bede spent most of his life in the monastery at Jarrow, but he did have the occasional journey into the outside world. There are legends that he visited Rome at the invitation of Pope Sergius, but this is considered unlikely by the majority of historians. The tales rest on a statement by William of Malmesbury which has never been validated. However, it is known that he visited Lindisfarne, and that he stayed for a time with his friend Egbert, the Archbishop of York. He probably visited King Ceolwulf of Northumbria. It is easy to imagine the animated conversations held on these occasions, and the discussions of the great religious questions of the time. Even the most saintly of people must have enjoyed the feeling of freedom felt on leaving the enclosure of the monastery. A spiritual person like Bede would surely have appreciated the beauty of the countryside and the magnificence of sunsets and sunrises, and the company of friends he did not often see.
To those few who were educated, most of whom would have been living a religious life, Bede must have been a famous man. Having been a little boy given into the care of monks, and being a kind man, I imagine he would have
understood the problems of such small, homesick people, and he would have been able to help them. As I mentioned before, to be taken from home and handed over into such an environment must have been difficult to cope with at the early age of seven.

The parents of the boys who were given into the care of the monastery were often tenants on the monastery estate. The boy would be taken to the altar where they wrapped his hands in an altar cloth which they would kiss and then put the child into the hands of the monk who was receiving him into the monastery. The sign of the cross would be made over the little lad’s head. Then it would be time for the abbot to cut the boy’s hair short around his neck.
The rule in the dormitory was presumably made with the idea of avoiding the mischief which little boys might get up to when on their own. There should be masters sleeping between every two boys. Also, when they lie down to sleep there should always be a master near them with a candle. Was this so that they should not wake up and be afraid of the dark?
There was just one punishment . This was that if punishment was required it should consist of being whipped with a rod, or they were to have their hair ‘stoutly pulled’. They should never be ‘kicked or hit’.
This is taken from the rule of Benedict which was considered to be less severe than some others, for example the Cistercians, and in keeping with a more reasonable way of life.


Bede tells us that ‘ from the time my receiving the priesthood until my fifty-ninth year, I have worked, both for my own profit and that of my brethren, to compile extracts from the works of the venerable Fathers on holy scripture, and to make commentaries on their meaning and interpretation.’ During all this time he must have been gathering material for his History. There must have been a great deal of correspondence with other learned men of his day as well as reading all the historical books of the time. This work he completed in the year 751.
He has given much information on the life lived in the religious houses of his day, and also many interesting and vividly told character sketches.
As I have mentioned, all within the monastery took part in the active work needed to feed and clothe the inmates. Here is an extract from Bede’s tale of Abbot Eosterwin, a former King’s Thane who, ‘remained so humble that he loved to thresh and winnow, milk the cows and ewes, and occupied himself obediently in the bakery, garden, kitchen, and all the work of the monastery’.
At the same time this humble and democratic abbot ‘corrected offenders with regular discipline’ and exercised unquestioned authority.
Without Bede we should know very little about the Dark Ages which he studied and wrote of with such care and our lives would be the less for lacking the knowledge that he put on to parchment with such devotion. On the day of his death he was dictating a translation on St. John’s Gospel.
Here is a tale told about Bede and told by his biographer. Bede was old and half blind and one day he was preaching to an empty church. He ended his sermon with these words:---‘this may God grant to us’. Invisible angels answered ‘Amen, very venerable Bede’.
He had a great love of his country and of the truth. He venerated the Celtic saints as well as the Roman ones. As well as his Ecclesiastical History of the English Nation he wrote on metre, penmanship and chronology, commentaries on the Old Testament and the New, a biography of St. Cuthbert and many others. For his facts he examined the works of Gildas, Gaulish Chronicles, Roman archives, memories of Wilfrid and surviving followers of Cuthbert. His books were being asked for in Germany within ten years of his death.
On the day of his death, 25th May 735, Bede, was at work dictating a book. An eyewitness reported that he finished the last chapter on the morning of that day then spent the rest of the day until evening happily and at peace with himself and the world. Then the same witness, named Wilbert, said to him that there was one more sentence to be finished.’ “Very well,” replied Bede, “ write it down.” After this was done the lad said, “Now it is finished.
“ You have spoken truly,” he replied,” It is well finished. Now raise my head in your hands………” ‘
He should be remembered with gratitude for his great mind and the spirit of understanding and love with which he went about his great work as Biblical commentator, scientist, poet and translator.




Bede on Himself


With God’s help, I, Bede, the servant of Christ and priest of the monastery of the blessed Apostles Peter and Paul at Wearmouth and Jarrow, have assembled these facts about the history of the Church in Britain, and of the Church of the English in particular, so far as I have been able to ascertain them from ancient documents, from the traditions of our forebears, and from my own personal knowledge.
I was born on the lands of this monastery, and on reaching seven years of age, my family entrusted me first to the most reverend Abbot Benedict, and later to Abbot Ceolfrid for my education. I have spent all the remainder of my life in this monastery, and devoted myself entirely to the study of the scriptures. And while I have observed the regular discipline and sung the choir offices daily in church, my chief delight has always been in study, teaching and writing.




Bede’s Death Song
From :- The Anglo Saxon World by Kevin Crossley Holland


Before he leaves on his fated journey
No man will be so wise that he need not
Reflect while time still remains
Whether his soul will win delight
Or darkness after his death-day.

Sunshine.

Today the sun is shining brilliantly. It was a real pleasure to walk out. There was a fairly strong breeze blowing but not unpleasant, just invigorating. The world seems a better place when the sun shines. Not that that means anything in that real world where so many terrible things happen. However, I'll enjoy the sun while I can and make the most of what I have. I have a great deal in comparison with so many.

Ancestors

We are part of those who went before,
Back, back, to that unknown,
Uncomprehended beginning.
They were, and we are,
Always divided yet always joined
By a centuried procession of struggling forebears,
Heralds of today.

It has all led to now,
To us, people of modernity,
Who still battle with instincts
Of the tribe. Eternity tells us
There’s not so long between us.
They are at our shoulder.

Sun and showers in Wharfedale

A gently winding track,
Thickly planted pines,
Open spaces,
Distant hazy hills too far to reach,
A marsh-bordered stream,
Cowslips, a great bonus to a frustrated town dweller!
A few drops of rain, not enough to soak,
Then out comes the sun again.
Off with the hats, unzip the jackets.
Joy is in the air, the delectable freshness,
No fumes, no constant spirit-wracking noise,
Just a rest for the soul which longs for peace.

Spring 2005

Reminicences

This is my Grandad Samuel, my Grandma Rosetta, my Uncle Dick and my mother, Alice.The photo must have been taken around 1910. I well remember Grandad but my Grandma Rosetta died before I was born. Uncle Dick went to Canada. I did not meet him till 1952 when he visited us.

I edited the original and very faded, brown old photo into this reasonably clear black and white version. I was rather pleased with myself and also with the Kodak Easyshare hardware (or is it software!) which I have.

Holly From My Garden

Peggy's thoughts on Christmas

As Christmas is just around the corner, and as the shops are already looking rather Christmassy, I thought I would blog this piece . I wrote it some years ago and it still conveys my feelings.


Now where shall I begin? Christmas seems to be so many things to so many different people that I find it very difficult to get my thoughts on to paper. To me Christmas is a time full of joy, a time when we enjoy the company of our dear ones and remember those who are now part of our past. Christmas is so much part of childhood, my own and my children's, that there must surely be the beginning of my thoughts. Some of my Christmas memories are so far back that they can hardly be called memories at all. They are feelings so deep within my being that they probably come from the time when my mother first picked me up to show me the glittering Christmas tree in the corner of the room. Certain things can touch that distant time such as the piny scent as we walk into the room with the tree. Scent is the most likely to bring back memories from the past. The gleam of the baubles, the twinkling lights, the shining tinsel and the glittering star at the very top of the tree also act on our subconscious. There is something so extra special about the act of bringing a tree into the house. It surely must have had a tremendous significance to our most ancient of pagan ancestors living in these chilly northern climes. An artificial tree can never be quite the same. This applies to holly and, of course, we must not forget the mistletoe.
I love the Christian aspect of Christmas with the birth of Jesus in the stable, the Shepherds, and the Star leading the Three Kings, one of whom is always portrayed as being black. This interests me, as I do not know where the legend of one black and two white kings came from. I am also fascinated by the great pagan midwinter festival that Christmas replaced, a festival which helped people to get through the darkest part of winter. To some extent Christmas still serves this purpose.
Music is an integral part of Christmas, both carols old and new, and modern Christmas songs, and, of course, Christmas stories abound. I feel the need to read The Christmas Carol every year and to have a dip into any Christmas anthologies I can find. And what about Father Christmas? He must not be forgotten. The children with their sparkling Christmas eyes would not allow that.
None of this delves into the much deeper mysteries of Christmas and these, I think, should be kept for another time. So we will keep away from such solemn and insoluble questions. Fetch the decorations, the holly and most of all remember to bring in the TREE. Don't forget the turkey or the especially festive nut roast, the pudding, the mince pies and the cake, the wine and the brandy. Give and receive presents without feeling guilty, and most of all remember those who have gone but, as John Masefield said,' laugh and be merry' with the loved ones who are with us.

So, to everyone,


Have A Merry

Christmas

Lifeboats

Here I have many little sea pictures What I really wanted was a decent lifeboat picture. For any one with extra good eyesight there is one tiny picture with an even tinier lifeboat .

Tomorrow I shall order Christmas cards from the RNLI.

Chilling Beach


Many happy holidays were spent on this beach when I was a child



.

The trials and tribulations of an old person struggling in the modern world!!!

Today I have been attempting to become an expert at putting photos onto a disc. I have managed to put numbers of photos on but sometimes I get in a pickle and find that all is not going as well as expected. I have quite a large number of filled discs but they are not in the perfectly organised fashion that they should be in. However, practice makes perfect, or I hope that that will be the case.

Hardraw Force in North Yorkshire

No More Moaning!!

Today is gloriously, sunny, just the sort of weather for a brisk walk on the Yorkshire fells. The air is fresh, not a hint of mugginess, so what am I doing sitting at the computer? The reason is that I have a miserable cold, I am an ancient lady, the fells are a couple of hundred miles away, and I am stuck in London.
That is enough moaning, I think. The parks are nearby and this suburb is interesting in its way. There is a glorious lime tree just outside my window and I have a lovely garden so what am I moaning about. There will be no more moaning!!