The story of Ulfilas, who Christianized the pagan Goths in the last
half of the fourth century, is really the first chapter not alone
in the history of Gothic civilization but in that of the German and
English literatures; which, with their vast riches, had their origin
in the strange achievement of Ulfilas. He had, while a boy, been
captured by some Goths off the coast of Asia Minor, and was called by
them "_Wulf-ilas_" (little wolf). In his desire to translate the Bible
to his captors Wulf-ilas reduced the Gothic language to writing. He
had first to create an alphabet; taking twenty-two Roman letters, and
inventing two more: the letter _w_, and still another for _th_. So
while, after Constantine, the Christian religion was being adopted by
the Roman Empire, and while its simple dogmas were being discussed and
refined into a complicated and intricate system by men versed in
Greek philosophy, and then formulated by minds trained in logic and
rhetoric, the same religion was being spelled out in simple fashion
by the Goths in central Europe from the book translated for them by
Ulfilas.
All they found was that Jesus Christ was the beloved son of God and
the Saviour of the world; that he was the long-promised Messiah, and
to believe in him and to follow his teachings was salvation. They knew
nothing of the Trinity nor of any theologic subtleties, and this was
the simple faith which the Goths carried with them into the lands they
conquered.
The Romans, who had spent three centuries in burning Christians and
trying to obliterate the religion of Christ, were now its jealous
guardians. They considered this "Arianism," as it was called,
a blasphemous heresy, so shocking that they refused to call it
Christianity at all. The history of the first century of the Gothic
kingdom in Spain was therefore mainly that of the deadly strife
between Arianism and Catholicism, or orthodoxy. The Goths could not
discuss, for they were utterly unable to understand even the terms
under discussion; but they could fight and lay down their lives for
the faith which had done so much for them; and this they did freely
and fiercely.
So the simple Gothic people were bewildered by finding themselves
in the presence of a Christianity incomprehensible to them; a
complicated, highly organized social order, equally incomprehensible;
and a science and a literature of which they knew nothing. They might
struggle for a while against this tide of superiority, but one by one
they entered the fascinating portals of learning and of art, accepted
the dogmas of learned prelates, and a few generations were sufficient
to make them meek disciples of the older civilization.
The Spanish language fairly illustrates the result from this
incongruous mingling of Roman and Gothic. It is said to be a language
of Latin roots with a Teutonic grammar.
The Goths laid rough hands on the speech they consented to use, and
the smooth, sonorous Latin was strangely broken and mixed with Gothic
words and idioms; yet it became one of the most copious, flexible,
and picturesque of languages, with a literature marvelously rich and
beautiful.
In precisely the same way was the classic old ruin of a Roman state
re-enforced with a rough Gothic framework, and after centuries have
hidden the joints and the scars with mosses and verdure, we have a
picturesque and beautiful Spain!
But barbarous kings were fighting other things besides heresy. There
were rebellions to put down; there were remnants of Sueves and of
Roman power to drive out, and there were always the fierce mountain
tribes who never mingled with any conquerors, nor had ever surrendered
to anything but the Catholic faith.
There were intermarriages between the three Gothic kingdoms, in
Burgundy, Gaul, and Spain, and the history of some of these royal
families shows what wild passions still raged among the Goths, and
what atrocities were strangely mingled with ambitious projects and
religion.
Athanagild, one of the Visigoth kings, gave his daughter Brunhilde in
marriage to the King of the Franks in Gaul. The story of this terrible
Queen, stained with every crime, and accused of the death of no less
than ten kings, comes to a fitting end when, we are told, that in
her wicked old age she was tied to the tail of an unbroken horse and
dragged over the stones of Paris (600 A.D.).
At this time Leovigild (570-587), the Visigoth King, was ruling Spain
with a strong hand. He had assumed more splendor than any of his
predecessors. He had erected a magnificent throne in his palace at
Toledo, and his head, wearing the royal diadem, was placed on Spanish
coins, which may still be seen. A daughter of the terrible Brunhilde,
the Princess Ingunda, came over from France to become the wife of
Ermingild, the son of the great King Leovigild, and heir to his
throne.
All went smoothly until it was discovered that this fair Princess was
a Catholic, and was artfully plotting to win her husband over to her
faith from the faith of his fathers--Arianism.
Although Catholicism had made great inroads among their people, never
before had it invaded the royal household. And when his son declared
his intention to desert their ancient creed there commenced a terrible
conflict between father and son, which finally led to Ermingild's open
rebellion, and at last to his being beheaded by his father's order.
But this crime against nature was in vain. Arianism had reached the
limit of its life in Spain. Upon the death of Leovigild, his second
son, Recared (587-601), succeeded to the throne, and one of his first
acts was to abjure the old faith of the Gothic people, and Catholicism
became the established religion of Spain.