The History of Christianity - John S. C. Abbott (bookstand for reading .txt) 📗

Convulsions of the Sixth Century.—​Corruption of the Church.—​The Rise of Monasteries.—​Rivalry between Rome and Constantinople.—​Mohammed and his Career.—​His Personal Appearance.—​His System of Religion.—​His Death.—​Military Expeditions of the Moslems.—​The Threatened Conquest of Europe.—​Capture of Alexandria.—​Burning of the Library.—​Rise of the Feudal System.—​Charlemagne.—​Barbarian Antagonism to Christianity.

HE sixth century of the Christian era passed away like a hideous dream of the night. Wave after wave of barbaric invasion swept over Europe and Asia. Rome was sacked five times, in the endurance of violence and woes which no pen can describe. Paganism was overthrown; but gradually Christianity became paganized. Still, corrupt as Christianity became, it was an immense improvement over the ancient systems of idolatry. The past narrative has given the reader some faint idea of what morals were under the old Roman emperors. The depravity of man, vanquished in its endeavor to uphold idolatry, with all its polluting rites, endeavored to degrade Christianity into a mere system of dead doctrines and pompous ceremonies. In this it partially succeeded; but it was utterly impossible to sink Christianity to a level with paganism.

The disordered state of the times had swept the rural population from the fields, and they were huddled together for protection in the villages and walled cities. Immense tracts of land all over Europe were left waste. Herds of cattle grazed over these desolate expanses, guarded by armed serfs, who watched them by day, and slept in the fields by their side at night. Slavery was universally practised, the conqueror almost invariably enslaving the conquered. Hence labor became degrading: none but slaves would work. It was gentlemanly, it was chivalric, to obtain wealth by pillage: it was vulgar, boorish, entirely derogatory to all dignity, to move a finger in honest industry. The highest offices of the Church were often assigned by unprincipled kings and princes to their worthless favorites. Marauding bands, not unfrequently led by these false bishops, often fell upon the flocks grazing in the fields, slaughtered the herdsmen, and drove off the herd.

A very zealous and enlightened Christian, by the name of Benedict, endeavored to counteract this ruinous spirit of the times: he formed a society quite similar in its organization to our temperance associations. This body of reformers soon assumed the name of Monks of St. Benedict. For protection against the marauding bands which were ever abroad upon expeditions of plunder, they built a massive, strongly-fortified castle, which they called a monastery, to which the industrious community could retreat when assailed.

“Beware of idleness,” said this noble Christian man, “as the great enemy of the soul. No person is more usefully employed than when working with his hands, or following the plough.”

This was the origin essentially of many of the monasteries of Europe: they were noble institutions in their design, and thousands of Christians breathing the spirit of Christ found within their enclosures peaceful and useful lives when the billows of anarchy were surging over nearly all other portions of the globe. But that innate proneness to wickedness, which seems everywhere to reign, gradually perverted those once holy and industrious communities into institutions of indolence and sin. Wherever the monastery arose, there originally waved around it fields of grain, and fat cattle grazed in the meadows. Prayer and labor, faith and works, were combined, as they ever should be. The ruins of these monastic edifices still occupy the most enchanting spots in Europe: they were usually reared upon some eminence which commanded an extensive prospect; or in some sheltered nook, by the banks of a beautiful stream. The eye of taste is invariably charmed in visiting these localities. The pristine monks were a noble set of men; and, for ages, learning and piety were sheltered in the cloisters which their diligent hands had reared.

The modern tourist, witnessing the worldly wisdom evidenced in their whole plan, and conscious that there is no longer occasion for such institutions, forgets the necessities of the rude days in which they were constructed, and is too apt sneeringly to exclaim,—

“Ah! those shrewd old monks had a keen eye to creature-comforts. They loved the banks of the well-filled stream sparkling with salmon and trout: they sought out luxuriant meadows, where their herds could roll in fatness amidst the exuberant verdure; or the wooded hills, where the red deer could bound through the glade, and snowy flocks could graze, and yellow harvests, sheltered from the northern winds, could ripen in the sun.”

Indeed they did. This was all right,—Christian in the highest degree. “Godliness is profitable unto all things.” “The hand of the diligent maketh rich.” The prior of the monastery was not a despot revelling in the toil of others: he was the father of the household; he was the head workman, accompanying his brethren to the field of honest toil and remunerative industry.

Benedict, usually called St. Benedict, early in the sixth century established a monastery, which subsequently attained great celebrity, upon the side of Mount Cassano, near Naples. None were admitted to it but men of pure lives, and who had established a reputation for such amiability of character as would insure their living harmoniously with the other brethren. It became the home of piety, industry, and temperance: the persecuted sought refuge there; scholars sought a retreat there; missionaries went out from it into the wastes which war and vice had desolated.

The cloistered convent may with some propriety be called a divine institution: it was the creation of necessity. But, in the lapse of ages, royal gifts and the legacies of the dying endowed many of them with great wealth. Opulence induced indolence, till these cradles of piety became the strong fortresses of iniquity; and modern Christianity has been compelled to frown them down.

From the commencement of these institutions, during a period of five hundred years, until the tenth century, many of these monasteries exerted a beneficent and noble influence. Christianity had begun to break the fetters of the slave; these freedmen, the emancipated slaves, were placed under the protection of the clergy; and they often found shelter from oppression within sacred walls which secular violence did not dare to profane. These convents were for ages the only post-offices in the country. Few could read but the higher clergy. It is said even of the Emperor Charlemagne, that he could not write, and that his signature to any document consisted of his dipping his hand in a bowl of red ink, and then impressing the broad palm upon the parchment. There were but few letters passed, save those conveying some important state intelligence. These documents were rapidly transferred by the brethren from one convent to another. For many centuries, the monks were better informed than almost any other persons of what was transpiring throughout Europe and Asia.

The warriors were men of muscle only, not of cultivated mind. Intelligence is always a power: hence the Church rapidly gained ascendency over the State, and the mitred bishop took the precedence of the helmed warrior. The bishops, or pastors, of the large churches in the metropolitan cities, had then, as now, distinction above the rural clergy. Constantinople, outstripping decaying Rome, had become the chief city of the world in population and splendor. Rome, proud of her ancient renown, regarded her young rival very much as an old, aristocratic, decaying family regards some successful adventurer of lowly birth who has newly become rich.

There was strong rivalry between the bishops of these two renowned cities, each struggling for the pre-eminence. The Bishop of Rome gradually assumed the title of Papa, or Pope. Indeed, in the first century, all the bishops in the East were entitled Pope, or Father. Subsequently, in the fifth century, the Bishop of Constantinople took the title of Patriarch. The strife eventuated in a division between the Greek and Roman churches. The Pope at Rome took the Western churches, and the Patriarch at Constantinople the Eastern. Swaying the sceptre of spiritual power, both of these ecclesiastics gradually grasped temporal power also. Christianity was virtually banished from the Church, though there were here and there devoted pastors; and thousands of Christians, some of them even in the highest walks of life, were, with prayers and tears, struggling, through the almost universal corruption, in the path to heaven. Both the Grecian and the Roman hierarchies became mainly but ambitious political organizations, ministering to pride and luxury and splendor. There were some good popes, as there have been good kings; and many bad popes, as there have been bad kings.

It was near the close of the sixth century that Mohammed commenced his marvellous career. Whether this extraordinary man were a self-deceived enthusiast, or a designing impostor, is a question which will probably ever be discussed, and never settled.

Born of wealthy parents in the city of Mecca, in the interior of Arabia, about the year 569, he, when a lad of but thirteen years of age, travelled to Syria on a commercial expedition. Here he was entertained in one of the Christian monasteries,—almost the only resort of travellers in those days. One of the fathers, perceiving in him indications of genius, paid him marked attention, and probably made strenuous exertions to secure his conversion, not only to Christianity, but to the superstitious observances which had grown up around the pure religion of Jesus.

All great men are of a pensive temperament: the tremendous mystery of human life oppresses them. Young Mohammed was thoughtful, contemplative, with a tinge of melancholy pervading his whole character. It is evident that he was much impressed by the scenes which he had witnessed and the instructions he had received in the convent; for he formed the habit of retiring every year to the Cave of Hera, about three miles from Mecca. Here, in a natural cloister, he annually spent a month in solitude, meditation, and prayer.

In the seclusion and silence of these hours he conceived and matured his plan for the establishment of a new religion. There were still remnants of the ancient idolatry all around him: and, in his view, idolatry had crept into the Christian Church; for statues of the saints filled the niches of the great cathedrals, and image-worship in churches and convents had become almost universal. The reflections of Mohammed upon this subject must have been profound and long-continued; for he was forty years of age before he commenced active operations in that enterprise which has given him world-wide renown.

Mohammed affirmed, that, in his cave, he held interviews with the angel Gabriel, who had inspired him, as the apostles were inspired, to proclaim a new and purer religion. He assumed that the Jewish religion was from God, but that its end was accomplished; that Christianity was true, a divine revelation, but that, having fulfilled the purpose for which it was proclaimed, it was now also to pass away, and give place to a third and final revelation, which God had revealed to Mohammed, his prophet, and which, as the perfection of divine wisdom, was to endure forever.

The first disciple he gained was his wife; then some of his relatives and a few neighbors avowed their faith in his divine mission. But progress was very slow. At the close of ten years of tireless perseverance, but very few could be counted among his followers. Then, quite suddenly, converts began to multiply; and he gave them a military organization, boldly declaring that he was divinely empowered to put any one to death who should reject his claims, and that the property of such unbelievers was to be divided among the faithful. The world was just in the situation for a fanatic band of desperate marauders successfully to commence their march. The prospect of booty brought thousands of the vagabonds of Asia to his standard. His first exploit was the capture of a