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Solution Manual For Advanced Mechanics of Materials Boresi Schmidt 6th Edition
Solution Manual For Advanced Mechanics of Materials Boresi Schmidt 6th Edition
The text treats each type of structural member in sufficient detail so that
New examples for various types of member and a large number of new
problems.
BOOKS IN MANUSCRIPT.
INTRODUCTORY.
I n the year 410, Rome was captured and sacked by Alaric the
Visigoth. At this time, S. Jerome, in his cell at Bethlehem, was
labouring at his Commentaries on Ezekiel, while it was the downfall
of the imperial city which incited S. Augustine to begin the
composition of his greatest work, The City of God: “the greatest city
of the world has fallen in ruin, but the City of God abideth forever.”
The treatise required for its completion twenty-two books. “The
influence of France and of the printing-press,” remarks Hodgkin,
“have combined to make impossible the production of another De
Civitate Dei. The multiplicity of authors compels the controversialist
who would now obtain a hearing, to speak promptly and concisely.
The examples of Pascal and of Voltaire teach him that he must
speak with point and vivacity.”[1] S. Augustine was probably the most
voluminous writer of the earlier Christian centuries. He was the
author of no less than 232 books, in addition to many tractates or
homilies and innumerable epistles.[2] His literary work was continued
even during the siege of Hippo by the Vandals, and he died in Hippo
(in 431), in his seventy-sixth year, while the siege was still in
progress.
In regard to the lack of historical records of the time, I will again
quote Hodgkin, who, in his monumental work on Italy and Her
Invaders, has himself done so much to make good the deficiency: “It
is perhaps not surprising that in Italy itself there should have been
during the fifth century an utter absence of the instinct which leads
men to record for the benefit of posterity events which are going on
around them. When history was making itself at such breathless
speed and in such terrible fashion, the leisure, the inclination, the
presence of mind necessary for writing history might well be wanting.
He who would under happier auspices have filled up the interval
between the bath and the tennis court by reclining on the couch in
the winter portico of his villa and there languidly dictating to his slave
the true story of the abdication of Avitus, or the death of Anthemius,
was himself now a slave keeping sheep in the wilderness under a
Numidian sun or shrinking under the blows of one of the rough
soldiers of Gaiseric.”
Hodgkin finds it more difficult to understand “why the learned and
leisurely provincial of Greece, whose country for nearly a century
and a half (395-539) escaped the horrors of hostile invasion, and
who had to inspire them the grandest literary traditions in the world,
should have left unwritten the story of the downfall of Rome.”
“The fact seems to be,” he goes on to say, “that at this time all that
was left of literary instinct and historiographic power in the world had
concentrated itself on theological (we cannot call it religious)
controversy, and what tons of worthless material the ecclesiastical
historians and controversialists of the time have left us!... Blind, most
of them, to the meaning of the mighty drama which was being
enacted on the stage of the world ... they have left us scarcely a hint
as to the inner history of the vast revolution which settled the Teuton
in the lands of the Latin.... One man alone gives us that detailed
information concerning the thoughts, characters, persons of the
actors in the great drama which can make the dry bones of the
chronologer live. This is Caius Sollius Apollinaris Sidonius, man of
letters, imperial functionary, country gentleman, and bishop, who,
notwithstanding much manifest weakness of character and a sort of
epigrammatic dulness of style, is still the most interesting literary
figure of the fifth century.”[3]
Sidonius was born at Lyons, a.d. 430. His father, grandfather, and
great-grandfather had all served as Prætorian Prefects in Gaul, in
which province his own long life was passed. In 472, Sidonius
became Bishop of Arverni, and from that time, as he rather naïvely
tells us, he gave up (as unbecoming ecclesiastical responsibilities)
the writing of compositions “based on pagan models.” In 475, the
year before the last of the western emperors, Augustulus, was driven
from Rome by Odovacar,[4] the Herulian, the Visigoth king, Euric,
became master of Auvergne. Sidonius was at first banished, but in
479 was restored to his diocese, and continued his work there as
bishop and as writer until his death, ten years later. At the time of the
death of Sidonius, Cassiodorus, who was, during the succeeding
eighty years, to have part in so much of the eventful history of Italy,
was ten years old. There are some points of similarity in the careers
of the two men. Both were of noble family and both began their
active work as officials, one of the Empire, the other of the Gothic
kingdom of Italy, while both also became ecclesiastics. Each saw his
country taken possession of by a foreign invader, and for the
purpose of serving his countrymen, (with which purpose may very
possibly have been combined some motives of personal ambition,)
each was able and willing to make himself useful to the new ruler
and thus to retain official position and influence; and finally, both had
literary facility and ambition, and, holding in regard the works of the
great classic writers, endeavoured to model upon these works the
style of their own voluminous compositions. The political work of
Cassiodorus was of course, however, much the more noteworthy
and important, as Sidonius could hardly claim to be considered a
statesman.
In their work as authors, the compositions of Sidonius are, as I
judge from the description, to be ranked higher in literary quality than
those of the later writer, and to have been more successful also in
following the style of classic models. The style of Cassiodorus is
described as both verbose and grandiloquent. In his ecclesiastical,
or rather his monastic work, taken up after half a century of active
political life, it was the fortune of Cassiodorus, as will be described
later, to exercise an influence which continued for centuries, and
which was possibly more far-reaching than was exerted by the
career of any abbot or bishop in the later history of the Church.
The careers of both Sidonius and Cassiodorus have a special
interest because the two men held rather an exceptional position
between the life of the old empire which they survived and that of the
new Europe of the Middle Ages, the beginning of which they lived to
see.
Of the writings of Sidonius, Hodgkin speaks as follows: “A careful
perusal of the three volumes of the Letters and Poems of Sidonius
(written between the years 455 and 490) reveals to us the fact that in
Gaul the air still teems with intellectual life, that authors were still
writing, amanuenses transcribing, friends complimenting or
criticising, and all the cares and pleasures of literature filling the
minds of large classes of men just as when no empires were sinking
and no strange nationalities suddenly arising around them.... A long
list of forgotten philosophers did exist in that age, and their works,
produced in lavish abundance, seem to have had no lack of eager
students.”
As an example of the literary interests of a country gentleman in
Gaul, Hodgkin quotes a letter of Sidonius, written about 469: “Here
too [i. e. in a country house in Gaul] were books in plenty; you might
fancy you were looking at the breast-high book-shelves (plantei) of
the grammarians, or the wedge-shaped cases (cunei) of the
Athenæum, or the well-filled cupboards (armaria) of the booksellers.
I observed, however, that if one found a manuscript beside the chair
of one of the ladies of the house, it was sure to be on a religious
subject, while those which lay by the seats of the fathers of the
family were full of the loftiest strains of Latin eloquence. In making
this distinction, I do not forget that there are some writings of equal
literary excellence in both branches, that Augustine may be paired
off against Varro, and Prudentius against Horace. Among these
books, the works of Origen, the Adamantine, were frequently
perused by readers holding our faith. I cannot understand why some
of our arch-divines should stigmatise him as a dangerous and
heterodox author.”[5]
In summing up the work of Sidonius, Hodgkin points out the
noteworthy opportunities for making a literary reputation which were
missed by him. “He might have been the Herodotus of mediæval
Europe. He could have given authentic pictures of the laws and
customs of the Goths, Franks, and Burgundians ... a full portraiture
of the great apostle of the Germanic races, Ulfilas, and the secret
causes of his and their devotion to the Arian form of Christianity; and
he could have recorded the Gothic equivalents of the mythological
tales in the Scandinavian Edda and the story of the old Runes and
their relation to the Mœso-Gothic alphabet. All these details and a
hundred more, full of interest to science, to art, to literature, Sidonius
might have preserved for us had his mind been as open as was that
of Herodotus to the manifold impressions made by picturesque and
strange nationalities.”
It was doubtless fortunate for the literary reputation of Sidonius
that his father-in-law, Avitus, came to be emperor. The reign of Avitus
was short, but he had time to give to his brilliant son-in-law a position
as Court poet or poet-laureate, while it was probably due to the
imperial influence that the Senate decreed the erection (during the
lifetime of the poet) of the brass statue of Sidonius, which was
placed between the two libraries of Trajan. These libraries,
containing the one Greek and the other Latin authors, stood between
the column of Trajan and the Basilica Ulpia. Sidonius describes his
statue as follows:
I HAVE used for the heading of the chapter the term “the making of
books” rather than “literary work,” because the service rendered
by the earlier monastic scribes (a service of essential importance for
the intellectual life of the world) consisted chiefly, as has been
indicated, not in the production of original literature, but in the
reproduction and preservation of the literature that had been
inherited from earlier writers,—writers whose works had been
accepted as classics. While it was the case that in this literary labour
it was the Benedictines who for centuries rendered the most
important service, the first of the European monasteries in which
such labour was carried on as a part of the prescribed routine or rule
of the monastic life was that of Vivaria or Viviers, founded by
Cassiodorus, which was never formally associated with the
Benedictine Order, and which had, in fact, adopted, in place of the
Benedictine Rule, a rule founded on the teachings of Cassian, who
had died early in the fifth century. The work done, under the
instructions of Cassiodorus, by the scribes of Viviers, served as an
incentive and an example for Monte Cassino, the monastery founded
by S. Benedict, while the scriptorium instituted in Monte Cassino was
accepted as a model by the long series of later Benedictine
monasteries which during the succeeding seven centuries became
centres of literary activity.
After the destruction of the Gothic kingdom of Italy, it was with
these monasteries that rested the intellectual future of Europe.
Mankind was, for the time at least, to be directed and influenced, not
so much by royal chancellors or prætorian guards, as by the monks
preaching from their cells and by the monastic scribes distributing
the world’s literature from the scriptorium.
Cassiodorus and S. Benedict.—In the literary history
of Europe, the part played by Cassiodorus was so important and the
service rendered by him was so distinctive, that it seems pertinent
for the purposes of this story to present in some detail the record of
his life and work. As is indicated by the name by which he is known
in history, Cassiodorus was of Greek lineage, his family belonging to
the Greek city of Scyllacium in Southern Italy. His full name was
Magnus Aurelius Cassiodorus Senator. His ancestors had, for
several generations, held under the successive rulers of Italy
positions of trust and honour, and the family ranked with the
patricians. The father of the author and abbot, usually referred to as
Cassiodorus the third, was finance minister under Odovacar, and
when the Herulian King had been overcome and slain by Theodoric,
the minister was skilful enough to make himself necessary to the
Gothic conqueror, from whom he received various important posts,
and by whom he was finally appointed Prætorian Prefect. The
Cassiodorus with whom this study is concerned, known as
Cassiodorus the fourth, was born about 479, or three years after the
Gothic conquest.[10] He began his official career as early as twenty,
and it was while holding, at this age, the position of Consilarius, that
he brought himself to the favourable attention of Theodoric by means
of an eloquent panegyric spoken in praise of that monarch.
Theodoric appointed him Quæstor, an office which made him the
mouth-piece of the sovereign. To the Quæstor belonged the duty of
conducting the official correspondence of the Court, of receiving
ambassadors, and of replying in fitting harangues to their addresses,
so that he was at once foreign secretary and Court orator. He also
had the responsibility of giving a final revision to all the laws which
received the signature of the King, and of seeing that these were
properly worded and did not conflict with previous enactments.[11]
Theodoric, who had received what little education he possessed
from Greek instructors in Constantinople, was said never to have
mastered Latin, and he doubtless found the services of his eloquent
and scholarly minister very convenient.
It was the contention of Theodoric that his kingdom represented
the natural continuation of the Roman Empire, and that he was
himself the legitimate successor of the emperors. He took as his
official designation not Rex Italiæ, but Gothorum et Romanorum
Rex. This contention was fully upheld by the Quæstor, who felt
himself to be the representative at once of the official authority of the
new kingdom and of the literary prestige of the old Empire, and who
did what was in his power to preserve in Ravenna the classical
traditions of old Rome and to make the Court the centre of literary
influence and activity. Theodoric and his Goths had accepted the
creed of the Arians, but the influence of his minister, who was a
Christian of the Athanasian or Trinitarian faith, was sufficient to
preserve a spirit of toleration throughout the kingdom. It is to
Cassiodorus that is due what was probably the first official utterance
of toleration that Europe had known, an utterance that in later
European history was to be so largely set at nought: Religionem
imperare non possumus, quia nemo cogitur ut credat invitus.[12] [We
must not enforce (acceptance of) a creed, since no one can think or
can believe against his will.] It is not one of the least of the services
of Cassiodorus that he should at this early date, when the bitterness
of controversy was active in the Church, have been able to set a
standard of wise and Christian toleration. His action had a good
effect later in his own monastery and in the monasteries whose work
was modelled on that of Viviers. It was only in monastic centres like
Viviers and Monte Cassino, where Christian influence and
educational work were held to be of more importance than
theological issues, that literary activity became possible, and it was
only in such monasteries that labour was expended in preserving the
writings of “pagan” (that is, of classic) authors.
In 514, Cassiodorus became Consul, a title which, while no longer
standing for any authority, was still held to be one of the highest
honours, and in 515 he received the title of patrician. In 519, he
published, under the title of Chronicon, an abstract of history from
the deluge to the year 519. Hodgkin points out that in his record of
events of the fifth century, a very large measure of favourable, or
rather of partial attention is given to the annals of the Goths. Shortly
after the publication of the Chronicon, Cassiodorus began work on
his History of the Goths, which was finally completed in twelve
books, and the chief purpose of which was to vindicate the claims of
the Goths to rank among the historic nations of antiquity, by bringing
them into connection with Greece and Rome, and by making the
origin of Gothic history Roman. This history of Cassiodorus is known
only by tradition, not a single copy of it having been preserved. The
system of scribe-work in the monasteries, to which we owe nearly all
of the old-world literature that has come down to us, did not prove
adequate to preserve the greatest work of its founder. A treatise on
the origin of the Goths by a later writer named Jordæus, concerning
whom little is known, is avowedly based upon the history of
Cassiodorus, and is the principal source of information concerning
the character of this history.
At the time of the death of Theodoric, Cassiodorus was holding the
important place of Master of the Offices, a post which combined
many of the duties that would to-day be discharged by a Home
Secretary, a Secretary of War, and a Postmaster-General. Under the
regency of Queen Amalasuentha, Cassiodorus received his final
official honour in his appointment as Prætorian Prefect. In the
collection of letters published under the title of Variæ, Cassiodorus
gives accounts of the work done by him in these various official
stations, and these letters present vivid and interesting pictures of
the methods of the administration of the kingdom, and also throw
light upon many of its relations with foreign powers.
Cassiodorus continued to do service as minister for the
successors of Amalasuentha, Athalaric, Theodadad, and Witigis, and
retired from official responsibility only a few months before the
capture of Ravenna by Belisarius, in 540, brought the Ostrogothic
monarchy to an end. At the time of the entry of the Greek army,
Cassiodorus, now a veteran of sixty years, was in retirement in his
monastery in Bruttii (the modern Calabria). It was doubtless because
of the absence of Cassiodorus from the capital, that no mention is
made of him in the narrative of the campaign written by Procopius
the historian, who, as secretary to Belisarius, entered Rome with the
latter after the victories over Witigis.
Cassiodorus must have possessed very exceptional adaptability of
character, not to say elasticity of conscience, to be able, during a
period extending over nearly half a century, to retain the favour of so
many of the successive rulers of Italy and apparently to make his
services necessary to each one of them. It is certain, however, that
Italy benefited largely by the fact that through the various contests
and changes of monarchs, it had been possible to preserve a certain
continuity of executive policy and of administrative methods. The
further fact that the “perpetual” or at least the continuing minister was
at once a Greek and a Roman, and not only a statesman but a
scholar, and that he had succeeded in preserving through all the
devastations of civil wars and of foreign invasions a great collection
of classic books and a persistent (even though restricted) interest in
classic literature, exercised an enormous influence upon the culture
of Europe for centuries to come. The career of Cassiodorus had, as
we have seen, been varied and honourable. It was, however, his
exceptional fortune to be able to render the most important and the
most distinctive service of his life after his life’s work had apparently
been completed.
Shortly after his withdrawal to Bruttii, and when, as said, he was
already more than sixty years old, he retired to his monastery,
Vivaria, and during the thirty-six years of activity that remained for
him, he not only completed a number of important literary
productions of his own, but he organised the literary work of the
monastery scriptorium, which served as a model for that of Monte
Cassino, and, through Monte Cassino, for the long series of
Benedictine monasteries that came into existence throughout
Europe. It was the hand of Cassiodorus which gave the literary
impetus to the Benedictine Order, and it was from his magnificent
collection of manuscripts, rescued from the ruins of the libraries of
Italy, that was supplied material for the pens of thousands of
monastic scribes.
After his retirement to Bruttii, Cassiodorus founded a second
monastery, known as Mons Castellius, the work of which was
planned for a more austere class of hermits than those who had
associated themselves together at Vivaria. Of both monasteries he
retained the practical control, and, according to Trithemius (whose
opinion is accepted by Montalembert) of Vivaria he became
abbot.[13] Hodgkin, while himself citing the extract from Trithemius,
thinks it possible that Cassiodorus never formally became abbot, but
says that the direction and supervision of the work of the two
monasteries rested in any case in his hands.[14]
His treatise on the Nature of the Soul (De Anima) was probably
completed just before he began his monastic life, and was itself an
evidence of the change in the direction of his thoughts and of his
ideals. Cassiodorus had now done with politics. As Hodgkin points
out, the dream of his life had been to build up an independent Italian
State, strong with the strength of the Goths, and wise with the
wisdom of the Romans. It is evident that he also felt himself charged
with a special responsibility in preserving for later generations the
literature and the learning of the classic world. With the destruction
of the Gothic kingdom, that dream had been scattered to the winds.
The only institutions which retained a continuity of organisation were
those belonging to the Church, and it was through the Church that
must be preserved for later generations the thought and the
scholarship of antiquity. It was with a full understanding of this
change in the nature of his responsibilities, that Cassiodorus decided
to consecrate his old age to religious labours and to a work even
more important than any of his political achievements: the
preservation, by the pens of monastic copyists, of the Christian
Scriptures, of the writings of the early Fathers, and of the great
works of classical antiquity.
Some years before his retirement from Ravenna, Cassiodorus had
endeavoured to induce Pope Agapetus (535-536) to found a school
of theology and Christian literature at Rome, modelled on the plan of
the schools of Alexandria and Nisibis. The confusion consequent on
the invasion of Italy by Belisarius had prevented the fulfilment of this
scheme. The aged statesman was now, however, planning to
accomplish, by means of his two monasteries, a similar educational
work.
Hodgkin summarises the aims of earlier monasticism, (aims which
were most fully carried out in the monasteries of the East and of
Africa,) as follows: In the earlier days of monasticism, men like the
hermits of the Thebaïd had thought of little else but mortifying the
flesh by vigils and fastings, and withdrew from all human voices in
order to enjoy an ecstatic communion with their Maker. The life in
common of monks like those of Nitria and Lerinum had chastened
some of the extravagances of these lonely enthusiasts, while still
keeping in view their main purpose. S. Jerome, in his cell at
Bethlehem, had shown what great results might be obtained for the
Church of all ages from the patient literary toil of one religious
recluse. And finally, S. Benedict, in that Rule of his, which was for
centuries to be the code of monastic Christendom, had sanctified
work as one of the most effectual preservatives of the bodily and
spiritual health of the ascetic.
“It was the glory of Cassiodorus,” says Hodgkin,[15] “that he first
and pre-eminently insisted on the expediency of including intellectual
labour in the sphere of monastic duties.... This thought [may we not
say this divinely suggested thought?] in the mind of Cassiodorus was
one of infinite importance to the human race. Here, on the one hand,
were the vast armies of monks, whom both the unsettled state of the
times and the religious ideas of the age were driving irresistibly into
the cloister; and who, when immured there with only theology to
occupy their minds, became, as the great cities of the East knew
only too well, preachers of discord and mad fanaticism. Here, on the
other hand, were the accumulated stores of two thousand years of
literature, sacred and profane, the writings of Hebrew prophets,
Greek philosophers, Latin rhetoricians, perishing for want of men
with leisure to transcribe them. The luxurious Roman noble with his
slave amanuenses multiplying copies of his favourite authors for his
own and his friends’ libraries, was an almost extinct existence. With
every movement of barbarian troops over Italy, whether those
barbarians called themselves the men of Witigis or of Justinian,
some towns were being sacked, some precious manuscripts were
perishing from the world. Cassiodorus perceived that the boundless,
the often wearisome leisure of the convent might be profitably spent
in arresting this work of denudation, in preserving for future ages the
intellectual treasure which must otherwise inevitably have perished.
That this was one of the great services rendered by the monasteries
to the human race, the most superficial student has learned, but not
all who have learned it know that the monks’ first decided impulse in
this direction was derived from Cassiodorus.”
The German biographer of Cassiodorus, Franz, uses similar
language:
Das Verdienst, zuerst die Pflege der Wissenschaften in den
Bereich der Aufgaben des Klosterlichen Lebens aufgenommen zu
haben, kann man mit vollem Rechte für Cassiodorus in Anspruch
nehmen.[16]
In the account given by Cassiodorus of the scriptorium of his
monastery, he describes, with an enthusiasm which ought to have
been contagious, the noble work done there by the antiquarius[17]:
“He may fill his mind with the Scriptures while copying the sayings of
the Lord; with his fingers he gives life to men and arms against the
wiles of the devil. As the antiquarius copies the words of Christ, so
many wounds does he inflict upon Satan. What he writes in his cell
will be scattered far and wide over distant provinces. Man multiplies
the words of Heaven, and, if I may dare so to speak, the three
fingers of his right hand are made to express the utterances of the
Holy Trinity. The fast travelling reed writes down the holy words and
thus avenges the malice of the Wicked One, who caused a reed to
be used to smite the head of the Saviour.” The passage here quoted
refers only to the work of the copyists of the Christian Scriptures.
There are other references, however, in the same work to indicate
that the activity of the scriptorium was not confined to these, but was
also employed on secular literature.[18]
The devotion and application of the monks produced in the course
of years a class of scribes whose work in the transcribing and
illuminating of manuscripts far surpassed in perfection and beauty
the productions of the copyists of classic Rome. In the monasteries
north of the Alps the work of the scribes was, for the earlier
centuries, devoted principally to the production of copies of missals
and other books of devotion and of portions of the Scriptures. In Italy,
however, where classical culture never entirely disappeared,
attention continued to be given to the transcription of the Latin texts
of which any manuscripts had been preserved, and it was these
transcripts of the monks of Cassiodorus and S. Benedict that gave
the “copy” for the first editions of Cicero, Virgil, and the other classic
writers, produced by the earliest printers of Germany and Italy.
Cassiodorus took pains to emphasise the importance of binding
the sacred codices in covers worthy of the beauty of their contents,
following the example of the householder in the parable, who
provided wedding garments for all who came to the supper of his
son. One pattern volume had been prepared containing samples of
various sorts of covers, from which the scribe might choose that
which pleased him best. The abbot had also provided, to help the
nightly toil of the scriptorium, mechanical lamps of some ingenious
construction which appears to have made them self-trimming and to
have insured a continuously sufficient supply of oil. The labour of the
scribes was regulated on bright days by sun-dials, and on cloudy
days and during the hours of the night by water-clocks.
In order to set an example of literary diligence to his monks, and to
be able to sympathise with the difficulties of scribe work,
Cassiodorus himself transcribed (probably from the translation of
Jerome) the Psalter, the Prophets, and the Epistles. In addition to his
labours as a transcriber, Cassiodorus did a large amount of work as
an original author and as a compiler. According to the judgment of
Migne, Franz, and Hodgkin, the importance of his original writings
varied very considerably, and is by no means to be estimated in
proportion to their bulk. One of the most considerable of these was
his great commentary on the Psalms, in the text of which he was
able to discover refutations of all the heresies that had thus far
racked the Church, together with the rudiments of all the sciences
which had become known to the world. This was followed by a
commentary on the Epistles and by a history of the Church, the latter
having been undertaken in co-operation with his friend Epiphanius.
This history, known as the Historia Tripartita, is said to have had a
larger circulation than any other of the author’s works. A fourth work,
which gives more of the personality of the writer, was an educational
treatise entitled, Institutiones Divinarum et Humanarum Lectionum.
In the first part of this treatise, which bore the title of De Institutione
Divinarum Litterarum, the author gives an account of the
organisation of his scriptorium. In the second division of the treatise,
entitled De Artibus ac Disciplinis Liberalium Litterarum, the author
states his view of the relative importance of the four liberal arts,
Grammar, Rhetoric, Logic, and Mathematics, the last named of
which he divides into the four “disciplines” of Arithmetic, Geometry,
Music, and Astronomy. Geometry and Astronomy occupy together
one page, Arithmetic and Music each two pages, Grammar two
pages, Rhetoric six pages, while to Logic are devoted eighteen
pages. The final production of his industrious life was a treatise
called De Orthographia, which was completed when its author was
ninety-three years old, and which was planned expressly to further
the work of the monastic scribes in collecting and correcting the
codices of ancient books.
The death of Cassiodorus occurred in 575, in the ninety-sixth year
of his age. An inheritor of the traditions of imperial Rome,
Cassiodorus had been able, in a career extending over nearly a
century, to be of signal service to his country under a series of
foreign rulers. He had succeeded, through his personal influence
with these rulers, in maintaining for Italy an organisation based on
Roman precedents, and in preserving for the society of the capital an
interest in the preservation and cultivation of classic literature. When
the political institutions of Italy had been shattered and the very
existence of civilisation was imperilled, he had transferred his
services to the Church, recognising, with the adaptability which was
the special characteristic of the man, that with the Church now
rested the hopes of any continuity of organised society, of intellectual
interest, of civilisation itself. He brought to the Church the advantage
of exceptional executive ability and of long official experience, and
he also brought a large measure of scholarship and an earnest zeal
for literary and educational interests. It is not too much to say that
the continuity of the thought and civilisation of the ancient world with
that of the Middle Ages was due, more than to any other one man, to
the life and labours of Cassiodorus.
S. Benedict.—The Life of S. Benedict, written by Pope Gregory I.
(who was born in 543, the year of the death of the saint), was for
centuries one of the most popular books circulated in Europe. The
full title is: Vita et Miracula Venerabilis Benedicti conditoris, vel
Abbatis Monasterii; quod appellatur arcis Provinciæ Campaniæ.
“The Life and Miracles of the Venerable Benedict, Founder and
Abbot of the Monastery which is called (of) the Citadel of the
Province of Campania.” This biography was, later, translated by
Pope Zacharias from the original Latin into Greek.
The great achievement of Benedict was the one literary product of
his life, the Regula. It comprises seventy-three short chapters,
probably not designed by the author for use beyond the bounds of
the communities under his own immediate supervision. It proved to
be the thing for which the world of religious and thoughtful men was
then longing, a complete code of monastic duty. By a strange
parallelism, almost in the very year in which the great Emperor
Justinian was codifying the results of seven centuries of Roman
secular legislation for the benefit of the judges and the statesmen of
the new Europe, Benedict, on his lonely mountain top, was
composing his code for the regulation of the daily life of the great
civilisers of Europe for seven centuries to come.
The Rule of S. Benedict, Chap. 48. Concerning Daily Manual
Labour.—“Idleness is the enemy of the soul: hence brethren ought at
certain seasons to occupy themselves with manual labour, and again
at certain hours with holy reading. Between Easter and the calends
of October let them apply themselves to reading from the fourth hour
until the sixth hour.... From the calends of October to the beginning
of Lent, let them apply themselves to reading until the second hour.
During Lent, let them apply themselves to reading from morning until
the end of the third hour, and in these days of Lent, let them receive
a book apiece from the library and read it straight through. These
books are to be given out at the beginning of Lent.”[19]
This simple regulation, uttered by one the power and extent of
whose far-reaching influence have rarely been equalled among men,
gave an impulse to study that grew with the growth of the Order, and
that secured a continuity of intellectual light and life through the dark
ages, the results of which have endured to modern times. “Wherever
a Benedictine house arose, or a monastery of any one of the Orders,
which were but offshoots from the Benedictine tree, books were
multiplied and a library came into existence, small indeed at first, but
increasing year by year, till the wealthier houses had gathered
together collections of books that would do credit to a modern
university.”[20]
It was, of course, the case that the injunction to read, an injunction
given at a time when books were very few and monks were
becoming many, carried with it an instruction for writing until copies
of the books prescribed should have been produced in sufficient
numbers to meet the requirements of the readers. The armaria could
be filled only through steady and persistent work in the scriptoria,
and, as we shall see later, such scribe-work was accepted not only
as a part of the “manual labour” prescribed in the Rule, but not
infrequently (in the case of the skilled scribes) in lieu of some portion
of the routine of religious observance. Benedict would not have his
monks limit themselves to spiritual labour, to the action of the soul
upon itself. He made external labour, manual or literary, a strict
obligation of his Rule. The routine of the monastic day was to include
seven hours for manual labour, two hours for reading.[21] In later
years, the Benedictine monasteries became centres of instruction,
supplying the place, as far as was practicable, of the educational
system of the departed empire. As Order after Order was founded,
there came to be a steady development of interest in books and an
ever increasing care for their safe-keeping. S. Benedict had
contented himself with general directions for study; the Cluniacs
prescribed the selection of a special officer to take charge of the
books, with an annual audit of them and the assignment to each
brother of a single volume.
“The followers of the Saint continued in their patient labour,
praying, digging, and transcribing. The scriptoria of the Benedictine
monastery will multiply copies not only of missals and theological
treatises, but of the poems and histories of antiquity. Whatever may
have been the religious value or the religious dangers of the
monastic life, the historian at least is bound to express his gratitude