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ADRIAN FORTESCUE - PRIEST AND SCHOLAR

(1874 - 1923)


This is an edited version of an article by Michael Davies on Adrian Fortescue who spent most of his life of 25 years as a priest in one small parish in England. This shy and sensitive man was a brilliant scholar with many great talents.


When Adrian was born on 14 January 1874 his father, Edward Fortescue, headed an old Midland county family stretching back to the battle of Hastings (1066). One of his ancestors, the martyr Blessed Adrian Fortescue, was confined in the Tower of London and executed without trial for sedition in 1539 in the reign of King Henry VIII.

Edward Fortescue graduated from Oxford University in 1838 and was ordained as a priest in the Church of England. In 1861 he became Dean of the Scottish Episcopalian Cathedral in Perth. He achieved a considerable reputation as a retreat-master and spiritual director. Publication of the decrees of the Vatican Council prompted him to reconsider Anglican claims to be a branch of the Catholic Church. In 1872 he submitted to Rome and devoted himself to the cause of Catholic education until he died in 1877, aged 61, when Adrian was only three years old.

When Adrian was nine his mother sent him to a Jesuit Preparatory school where he remained until he entered St. Charles College, Bayswater in 1885. His mother died in 1886 and he was then brought up by an aunt.

In 1891, Adrian entered Scots' College in Rome where, with his musical talent, he was appointed organist. He received the degree of Bachelor of Philosophy in 1892 and Ph.D in 1894 and then entered the Theological Faculty at Innsbruck University. He was ordained to the priesthood in 1898.

Between 1899 and 1905 he passed doctoral examinations in Moral Theology, Dogma, Church History, Canon Law, Arabic, and Biblical Science - passing the examination in Semitic languages with great distinction, a rare achievement. In 1905 he was awarded the degree of Doctor of Divinity, making him the very rare recipient of a triple doctorate. An award presented to him personally by the Emperor Franz Joseph was given rarely and only to students who achieved the most exceptional level of scholarship. Friends and parishioners tended to refer to him as "the Doctor", a title used throughout this account of his life.

In 1906, aged 32, upon the recommendation of Fr. Herbert Thurston SJ, he was asked to contribute articles on the liturgy to the original Catholic Encyclopedia, a very great honour, particularly as he had not yet published any books.

THE SCHOLAR

In a tribute to Adrian's scholarship, the Vice President of St.Edmund's College Old Hall commented that he "was a man of such high attainment and of such breadth of interest that he may rightly be styled a genius".

Adrian spoke and lectured in eleven languages. In many fields of scholarship he had the sureness of touch, breadth of vision, love of truth and absence of personal prejudice that make for genius in learning. His eager, vivid temperament, and his sensitiveness of mind, led him intuitively into the very heart of things, and what he knew he could impart in clear speech and vivid phrase. In addition to insight and depth, he had an exceptional broad range of interests. He loved the study of the East and the language, customs and religions of the Orientals. It is clear from his books that he knew the origin and history of the Eastern Churches, both Uniate and Orthodox, as few priests of the Roman Rite had ever done. He devoted many years to studying Church history, of which he was so inspiring a master.

Hearing him lecture was an experience never to be forgotten. His presentation of facts was amazing in discipline and power. He spoke without emotion or rhetoric, and with practically no gestures. One who listened to passages that excited Adrian's enthusiasm said that "on these occasions he was little short of a magician and no audience could fail to be spellbound".

The Doctor was an authority on the classics. Non-Catholics flocked to his lectures on such authors as Plato and Virgil. He also possessed a specialised knowledge of Dante and Boethius. He was an artist of considerable talent. His watercolours would merit a place in any art gallery. He was a recognised authority on heraldry, and his own designs were widely admired. His cousin, Lady Winifred Fortescue, in her autobiography provided an insight into his character.

"He was the most generous and unpractical man alive. He gave all his substance to needy parishioners, and having no fixed stipend but only the voluntary contributions of a poor parish, was always in difficulties about his church expenses and in despair over his inability to raise money enough to meet them ... I suggested that he should design book-plates for my customers and illuminate aphorisms on parchment or vellum to be used as bookmarkers etc. This he did most exquisitely, handing them to me with a sardonic grin, and I was able to get him many orders and so ease his financial burden. In his simplicity, he thought me the most marvellous business woman the world has even seen ...".

Dr. Fortescue was probably the most outstanding calligrapher of his era. He influenced the Catholic-led renaissance in the art of printing which began in England at the beginning of this century. His calligraphy became more perfect with each succeeding year, and reached its apotheosis in an exquisitely written and illuminated collection of the music used in his church. He was an outstanding musician and a composer of considerable talent, a talent which extended to humorous compositions. Simply reading the catalogue for a memorial exhibition of his works in the Letchworth Public Library in 1923 puts one in awe of the man. The many exhibits could not all be shown at the same time and needed to be changed frequently. All this had been achieved by a relatively young man who died at the age of 49.

THE PRIEST

After a number of temporary positions, interrupted by doctoral examinations, Fr. Fortescue was eventually appointed in 1907 as Missionary Rector of Letchworth in Hertfordshire. While awaiting the construction of a temporary church, he offered Mass in a shed located near the railway line.

The church, dedicated to St. Hugh of Lincoln, was built largely with his own money, as was the presbytery, the land on which both were built, and many of the church furnishings. Although intended to be a temporary structure, the building remained the parish church from 1908 until 1963. The Doctor's great ambition to build a permanent church for which he had drawn up his own plans did not come to fruition owing to his early and untimely death in 1923. The little church has been preserved as the parish hall, and is considered to be one of Letchworth's buildings of greatest historic interest.

In the Doctor's study there were four desks, and he would flit from one to another as the mood took him, writing a separate book on each. It is hard to imagine a scholar who produced even a fraction of Adrian's literary output - not to mention his public lectures, teaching commitments and other activities - being able to cope with the duties of a parish priest in a conscientious manner. Few parish priests can have carried out their duties more conscientiously. Although his personal inclination was for the life of a scholar, his high sense of duty would never allow him to put his scholarly pursuits before the care of the souls entrusted to him. His visits to the poor and the sick were paid with the most scrupulous regularity, no matter how busy he might be. He was never known to refuse to see a caller, however inconvenient it might be for him to interrupt his work.

In an unpublished letter written in 1909, the Doctor made clear how uncongenial he found parish work, and how desperately he wished that his superiors would recognise his scholarly aptitude, and make it possible for him to pursue his studies in the interests of the Church. His wishes were not granted, and he was compelled to live out his all too brief life as a parish priest.

THE LITURGY AT ST. HUGH

The Doctor's Mass was something to remember. It was slow: every word that was intended to be audible was perfect. All that was about the altar was exquisitely tended. He spent hours with his servers before great feasts, practising every detail of the ceremonies.

The music at St. Hugh was of uniquely high standard and a member of the choir received a thorough musical education from the Doctor and his choirmaster, Wilfred Willson, a devout Anglican. When he offered to help the Doctor in 1908, Wilfred made it clear that he would never become a Catholic. Within a year he was received into the Church! They became close friends and their aim was to achieve musical perfection. It is not without significance that the norms for music mandated by the Liturgy Constitution of the Second Vatican Council conformed exactly to the pattern established by these two men. Gregorian Chant was established as the norm, but polyphony was by no means excluded. The entire congregation was able to sing the ordinary of the Mass in plainchant, in accordance with the wishes of St. Pius X.

In 1913, the Doctor compiled for his people a book of Latin hymns with, in most cases, his own English prose translations. In the preface, he wrote:

"...There is not, and there is never likely to be, any religious poetry in the world to be compared with the hymns of the Latin office ... our old hymns are immeasurably more beautiful than any others ever composed. Other religious bodies take all their best hymns from us. It would be a disgrace if we Catholics were the only people who did not appreciate what is our property..."

The Doctor catechized his parishioners with extraordinary zeal. There can be no parish in Europe where the faithful were better instructed in their religion, their liturgy, the lives of the saints, and all that concerns the worship of God. He took endless pains to ensure that every person in his parish understood his religion and appreciated the liturgy. He gave up two precious hours every Saturday evening to write in his exquisite hand the parish notice sheet. During the war a number of Belgian refugees came to live in Letchworth, and the Doctor would write in English, French and Flemish. He would also preach in the three languages. On at least one occasion, the Doctor preached in German in a camp for prisoners of war.

THE MAN

Although capable of warm and enduring friendships, Adrian was, by nature, shy and sensitive. He would never show the depth of his religious feeling, a matter between himself and God. He could not bring himself to make explicit in public his fiery enthusiasm for the cause of Christ, and his reverent awe for the things of God. But this could not be hidden from those who were present when he offered Mass, or who even saw him genuflect. His reluctance to express anything which smacked of emotion was reflected in his sermons, which were always short, carefully prepared, and packed with instruction. His Lenten sermons on the Passion even attracted non-Catholics. Then, and almost only then, did he lay aside his reticence and speak words which drew tears and made converts.

Adrian was a stoutly built man of great physical strength and of truly manly virtue in the old classical sense. This stood him in good stead during journeys to the wild and remote places that he loved so much. Twice at least he fought for his life. Once he engaged in a hand-to-hand struggle with fanatical Albanian soldiers at Hebron, and he and his companions had to bludgeon their way to their horses and gallop away, in Adrian's case with a broken collar-bone. On the other occasion he was travelling by caravan in Asia Minor, disguised as an Arab, when brigands attacked and in self-defence he shot and killed an assailant.

With a highly developed sense of humour, at times he played the enfant terrible to shock his friends. He took delight in denigrating the Vatican Curia with remarks of the most outrageous nature. He avoided with horror all social functions and publicity.

On one occasion Cardinal Bourne required all the priests in his diocese who had been ordained abroad to submit to an examination. No exception was made for even the most learned priest with his triple doctorate. Candidates duly finished their papers and left, except the Doctor who continued to write and write and write. The Canon supervising the examination began to feel hungry but, to his dismay, Adrian produced a packet of sandwiches which he ate while continuing to write. Finally, the Canon could bear it no longer. He approached the candidate and enquired if he were nearly finished. The Doctor, with an amazed expression, answered he had not as he was answering the question: "State what you know about the Arian heresy". It is to be hoped that, for the sake of the famished Canon, the Doctor did not write down all that he knew about this topic. How wonderful it would be if his paper could be found one day in the diocesan archives.

Adrian realised that time is our most precious commodity, and he hated to waste even a second. When almost bullied by his doctor into taking a daily walk, he chose a road to the Arlesey Asylum. Nothing on that dull and ugly route could possibly divert his thoughts from the Arabic dictionary he studied on the way there, and the Persian grammar that replaced it on the homeward journey.

THE LAST DAYS

Suddenly, in the midst of life, this amazing scholar was called away with much of his work unfinished. At the end of 1922 he was diagnosed as having cancer. He died on 11 February 1923. His death came as no surprise to his congregation who prayed for him unceasingly. They learnt from those who were with him in his last illness that his mind dwelt constantly, during those weeks of agony, on the sufferings of Our Lord. Many times he refused morphine in his determination to persevere along the "royal road of pain".

His funeral must have been the most impressive accorded a parish priest in England. The cortege stretched for nearly a mile and manifested the great respect for him among Catholic and non-Catholic alike. He chose to be buried at Letchworth among his own parishioners.

Let us pray that his memory and his writing will not have been consigned to oblivion when the twenty-first century begins. His example and scholarship have never been more sorely needed than they are today.


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