Fr Austin lived a long, dedicated, and diversified life as layman, monk, priest, scholar, teacher, athlete - and as a musician, composer, conductor, choirmaster and player of several instruments. He used his many talents with vigour and an infectious enthusiasm which enriched the lives of everyone with whom he came into contact. Having had the good fortune to be nearly a contemporary of his, and to have worked with him both at Ampleforth and St Louis I would need to write a book, or even a series of books, to do justice to such a larger-than- life character.
My task has been made somewhat easier because I have just spent a few days at St Louis Abbey where Fr Austin died on 6 March. There I was able to recall with the Abbot and other founding monks from Ampleforth the prominent part he played, especially in the very early years, helping to establish the Abbey and Priory School. Even more helpful has been the gift of some reminiscences which Fr Austin dictated when he became a helpless invalid condemned to life in a wheelchair. He intended it to be a light-hearted account of events of his life, but it is much more self-revealing than he realised as will be clear from the passages I shall quote. 'Let me tell you a story' illustrates from his own lips the depths of his Benedictine spirituality, and his deep faith in God’s providence. These enabled him to accept the most traumatic and unexpected calls to change the whole course of his life with instant obedience because the will of his superiors was the Will of God for him, and so the way to a truly happy and satisfying life on this earth.
Edward Rennick was born in Singapore on 6 December 1905, the son of an officer in the British Army, and baptised in the Anglican Church. When he was six months old his family moved to India and in 1913 he was sent to a boarding school in England. There he took a scholarship and went to Repton where he followed the classical curriculum. The headmaster at the time was Geoffrey Fisher, later to become Archbishop of Canterbury.
During his years at Repton he was 'a voracious reader of Greek and Latin Classics, some of which he memorised; everything written up to that time by Shaw & Ibsen; and a large quantity of poetry'. Simultaneously he was making a name for himself on the playing fields, three years in the Cricket XI, two years in the Soccer XI which he captained in his last year.
From Repton he went to Brasenose College, Oxford where 'he revelled in the expansion of the freedom and intellectual challenge he had relished at school'. But even more important he was 'hit with religion for the first time'. He had been brought up 'as a middle of the road Anglican who attended services but for whom religion made no great impact. The notion of a world-wide church just didn’t come up. You assumed if you were English you were Anglican, born, baptised'. He became friend and room mate of Kenneth Trethowen, and for four years, through the experience of Mods and Greats, they discussed the claims of the Roman Faith and their own. 'It was highly exciting'. During the fourth year Trethowen decided to become a Catholic. He subsequently became a monk of Downside Abbey as Fr Illtyd. Edward Rennick took instructions from Fr Martin D’Arcy SJ and on Holy Saturday 1929 he too was received into the Church. Next day he shared his First Communion breakfist 'with the three most famous English Jesuits of the time Frs D’Arcy, Stuart and Martindale. How on earth was it I never became a Jesuit?'
We shall see that he found his true vocation as a Benedictine but he tells us 'Well I had thought of the Dominicans, St Catherine of Siena being my favourite saint (a 1,000,000% person), and the Franciscans because St Francis is so attractive'. In some ways he was closely akin to St Francis. In St Louis to protect himself from the severe winter weather he acquired an army surplus duffle coat with the number 7 prominently stencilled on the back which he wore with a piece of rope tightly tied round his waist. This caused little comment on the Priory campus, but not when he wore it to attend a symphony concert in the 4 star Chase Hotel where the audience was largely composed of elegantly clad well-to-do ladies of St Louis. When the Prior gently suggested that he should wear something more appropriate for such an occasion the rather hurt reply was 'Why, that is my favourite coat'. Some people felt he was somewhat eccentric, but it was entirely unselfconscious, and such eccentricity might well have been inspired by St Francis himself.
During his time at Oxford another area of interest had opened up. An injury prevented him from playing games and he discovered a fascination for music. He became a friend of a talented musician Ernest Frankel who played a grand piano in his rooms. He also became a member of the Oxford Music Club which meant roughly one chamber concert a week. He pondered two courses. 'Would I spend my time learning an instrument, or would I concentrate on listening to as much music as I could and spend a good deal of time murdering vocal scores and piano music'. He chose the latter course and in later years did not regret his decision. His enthusiasm led to his election as President of the Oxford Music Club during his last year at Oxford. He arranged about ten concerts during the year and from all accounts the choice of some programmes included some new works which challenged the interest of the Club. He sums up this aspect of his life 'So I went up to Ampleforth with no skills as a player, lots of enthusiasm, a pretty wide experience of much that can be enjoyed in the world of music. And this, as a result of joining the monastery, has been used to the full in a way that could never have happened in the world'.
Having no strong leaning in any career direction Edward Rennick sought a school job. So as a recent and very devout convert he accepted an invitation from Fr Paul Nevill to join the teaching staff at Ampleforth College. Before long he found a wise and helpful spiritual adviser in Fr Placid Dolan who in May 1930 asked him if he had ever thought of being a monk. He answered 'No, for heavens sake'. But the seed had been sown. Next day he saw the Abbot, and in September he joined the novitiate, taking Austin as his religious name.
As a young faculty member of Ampleforth he taught Music, English, and Classics. He coached Rugby Football, Cricket and Running. It was typical of him that he immediately studied the intricacies of Rugby, and became as knowledgeable and skilful in that code as he already was in Soccer. He studied Philosophy and other monastic subjects, and when he was 26 Abbot Matthews considered sending him to Rome to study Theology. To his relief this did not happen and he happily records 'I’ve had no chance to become a theologian, thank God. I mean that I wanted to get on with what seemed clearly my job - teaching. So I expected, more or less unconsciously, that I’d teach Latin and Greek, and English on the side, and perhaps be head of the department some time. And of course do Music. In other words, a well-equipped but not expert teacher. (I’m not sure that it is a good thing to be too expert in teaching). I certainly seemed to have found my teaching vocation alongside my religious vocation. The prospects looked about average for the next twenty years'. In fact a year or so later he was appointed head of the English department by the Headmaster, and the Abbot asked him to be the monastic choirmaster. He soon became Chairman of the College Music Department and conductor of the school orchestra. In his enthusiasm he involved some of his friends in the locality in the Ampleforth music-making. In 1951 together with Fr Laurence Bevenot and Lady Read he revived the Hovingham Music Festival which became an annual event for some years afterwards. A small group also gave concerts around the countryside to stimulate interest in the festival.
So at the end of 1957 Fr Austin had settled into a secure and fulfilling way of life, sharing his literary, athletic and musical talents with highly appreciative students, and was a much loved and appreciated member of the Ampleforth community. In ordinary circumstances he might have expected a secure and rewarding life at Ampleforth, but it was not to be.
In 1955 the Ampleforth community had made a new foundation in St Louis, Missouri. The main work of the new community there was to found a College Preparatory School for the Catholic boys of St Louis. Benefactors had provided a large private house, the Stannard House, standing in its own grounds, as a site for the new monastery and school. In 1956 the four monks in residence opened the school with 30 boys. The following year I arrived to take charge of the Science Department with Fr Bede Burge to look after Mathematics, and the school doubled to 60 boys in four classes. Sonic ingenuity had to be used at this time to adapt the house as a monastery and school. One large room served as the school chapel with the adjoining glass conservatory as the monks’ choir, (very warm in summer, very cold in winter), another as school library. The upstairs bedrooms and dressing rooms housed the monks and the headmaster’s and procurator’s offices. The three car garage adjacent to the kitchen provided the school refectory. Teaching was done in a barn divided into four quarters by concertina partitions which could be folded back to provide a larger room when required. The Science department used the corner containing the drinking fountain! Competing with three other teachers within earshot was a considerable challenge in holding the attention of one’s own class. Conditions generally were extremely crowded. One school Mass nearly became a holocaust when a boy serving Mass caught fire from one of the altar candles!
The daily round too was a considerable challenge to a community of six - rise at 4.40 a.m. for Divine Office at 5.00 a.m. Conventual Mass each day sung. The boys arrived at 8.30 a.m. and left at 5.00 p.m. In addition to teaching, and all that entailed, there was the planning of the monastery and school buildings. familiarising ourselves with American curricula and examination requirements, and a good deal of public relations and fund-raising activity. It was perhaps only natural that the few letters we managed to write home dealt with some of the difficulties we encountered, and caused the Ampleforth community to wonder whether the new foundation would survive. In fact things were going remarkably well and during 1957-58 we were eagerly watching a new building taking shape which would provide classrooms and library on the ground floor, and the monastery on the upper floor. It was to be ready in August 1958 in time for the new school year, when it was planned there would be eight monks and 90 boys. In fact it became only seven monks as the summer heat proved too much for Fr Bede Burge who returned to England.
It was at this stage that Fr Austin became involved in the new foundation, and received the greatest shock of his life. Remember that he was well aware of the situation in St Louis and how different it was from the well-established md stable situation at Ampleforth. He describes this shattering moment in his ife.
'About midJanuary (1958) I heard a knock on my door. I was standing at he window, looking over the valley. It was just after breakfast. The Abbot (Fr Herbert Byrne) opened the door. I turned around and he said 'Austin, I’m ending you to America'. He might have said Purgatory! A long pause. We looked at one another, and I took a breath and said 'When do I start?' And that I think was a big moment of grace. In August I sailed for America, I was 52 years old, I could have come looking over my shoulder back to England - all my friends - but I was given the grace to say 'No that’s done now'. And that was one very good reason I’ve been happy all my time here. No regrets for the past.' Can anyone doubt that such immediate acceptance of a complete disruption of his life, recognising it as the will of God for him, proved the depth of his essentially Benedictine spirituality? As St Benedict says in the fifth chapter of his Rule 'They carry out the superior’s orders as promptly as if the command came from God himself’.
When the news of Fr Austin’s appointment to St Louis reached us I wrote to him to say how pleased we were, and reassuring him that 'the worst is over' as we should soon be moving into the new building. How wrong I proved to be! The building was in fact not ready until December, and we now had seven monks and 90 boys crowded into the space we had felt inadequate the year before. Further improvisation was needed. The rathskeller in the basement of the house became an extra classroom used by the Science department, and by Fr Austin for his English classes. When we passed each other he usually greeted me with a quizzical smile 'So the worst is over is it'. His cheerful acceptance of the situation and the great contribution he made to our monastic life and to the development of the school were among the main factors which helped us to survive this critical period in the establishment of the new Priory.
Fr Austin threw himself whole heartedly into his new life. As soon as he was eligible he became a United States citizen. He did not avail himself of the holidays to England every fourth year which were available to the St Louis monks. His whole life was now dedicated entirely to the success of St Louis Priory and School. He was soon making his mark on all the areas in which he had previously done at Ampleforth. He became monastic choirmaster and composed music for the English antiphons, responses and hymns which are still used today. He provided music for some of Father Ralph Wright’s religious poems. He was chairman of the school music department and started the St Anselm’s parish choir. For nine years he had his own orchestra, the St Louis Chamber Orchestra, and he was associate conductor of the Maplewood-Richmond Heights Orchestra. When long playing records became the fashion he amassed a huge collection of unwanted 78 rpm records of classical and operatic music. These enabled him to entertain his opera lovers’ group at monthly sessions in which he played the music of the operas and explained the plots to his audience.
Perhaps the most obvious influence he had at the Priory was through his English teaching. The many tributes to him from former students (the alumni) usually mention the lasting effect his lessons had in helping them to appreciate for instance the plays of Shakespeare. To one he was 'Western civilisation personified'. For another 'His love for English Literature was infectious, even to the most apathetic of us'. The reason for his great success is revealed in a section of his reminiscences. He says 'Had I not become a monk and a school teacher I might have taken a crack at being an actor. I think I would have liked to try it'. The truth is that he was a very good actor, though unconsciously. 'I find reading novels too slow, but reading dramas, especially with a class of boys rather than to oneself, extremely satisfactory. A play is something realised in the voices and actions of the people who take the parts: the parts are fleshed out by those who speak them. I believe - strongly - that what boys need is to read the stuff, ham it up if necessary with others. Plays are to be acted and heard, not simply read. The point about Shakespeare is great rhetoric and it needs to be heard. It all helps for it to be lived in the imagination of the reader. You must feel it, not pick it apart. There’s so much teaching which is thought to depend on accuracy of observation and interpretation when what you really want is zest. In drama what you need is zest'. That he was already instilling zest into his class in 1958 was very obvious to me as I tried to work in the Stannard House when the sounds of 'Julius Caesar' were rising up the stairwell from the rathskeller where he was teaching.
When St Louis Priory was granted independence in 1973 the Ampleforth monks there were free to return home if they so chose. To Fr Austin this was not an option. He had dedicated his life to the sound establishment of the new foundation and he would continue to do this for the rest of his life. He was to live there for another nineteen years, and as in the previous fifteen, he was to have a prominent part to play, though not perhaps in the way he expected. For once again he was called upon to come to terms with an unexpected change in his life.
During the final years of his life he was afflicted with Parkinson’s disease which increasingly took its toll. In his earlier years he had been a great athlete. When the Guards were near Ampleforth preparing to invade Europe they played several games of Rugby against a monastic side. Fr Austin, the converted Soccer player, played on the wing and on one occasion went over for a try at the corner carrying two burly Guardsmen with him. This invoked a bellow from the C.S.M. on the touch-line 'Thank Gawd we’ve got a Navy'. Even as a septuagenarian he would play a vigorous game of tennis on the Priory Courts. But his balance and ability to walk became affected by his illness and his voice became uncertain and reduced to a whisper. He had to sit for many hours on end with little zest for reading or music. Towards the end his concentration would noticeably lapse. Yet throughout his illness he continued to live the conventual life so far as he was able - concelebrating Mass in his wheelchair and joining the brethren in the Refectory at mealtimes. In December 1991 a fall resulted in a broken hip. There followed almost three months of pain and struggle patiently borne, in hospital until the last two weeks. His last days were spent among his brethren in the monastery, now St Louis Abbey, which he had such a large share in founding. He had proved himself perhaps the most inspired appointment made to the St Louis community by Abbot Herbert Byrne. He had proved himself there as a great scholar, teacher, athlete and musician, but above all as the personification of all that is best in the spirit of St Benedict as lived in the English Congregation. As one of the alumni wrote 'For all we learned in English, Music and around the lunch table, nothing was as meaningful as Fr Austin’s revealing of his God'.
Sources: AJ 97:2 (1992) 46