MONASTIC INSTITUTIONS AND THEIR RESULTS.

In the change of religion, care was taken to render the transit from

falsehood to truth as little violent as possible. Though the

first proselytes were kings, it does not appear that there was any

persecution. It was a precept of Pope Gregory, under whose auspices this

mission was conducted, that the heathen temples should not be destroyed,

especially where they were well built; but that, first removing the

idols, they should be consecrated anew by holier rites, and to better

purposes (Bed. Hist. Eccl. l. i. c. 30.), in order that the prejudices

of the people might not be too rudely shocked by a declared profanation

of what they had so long held sacred; and that everywhere beholding the

same places, to which they had formerly resorted for religious comfort,

they might be gradually reconciled to the new doctrines and ceremonies

which were there introduced; and as the sacrifices used in the Pagan

worship were always attended with feasting, and consequently were highly

grateful to the multitude, the pope ordered, that oxen should as usual

be slaughtered near the church, and the people indulged in their ancient

festivity. (Id. c. eod.) Whatever popular customs of heathenism were

found to be absolutely not incompatible with Christianity were retained;

and some of them were continued to a very late period. Deer were at a

certain season brought into St. Paul's Church in London, and laid on

the altar (Dugdale's History of St. Paul's.); and this custom subsisted

until the Reformation. The names of some of the church festivals were,

with a similar design, taken from those of the heathen, which had been

celebrated at the same time of the year. Nothing could have been more

prudent than these regulations; they were indeed formed from a perfect

understanding of human nature.

Whilst the inferior people were thus insensibly led into a better order,

the example and countenance of the great completed the work. For the

Saxon kings and ruling men embraced religion with so signal, and

in their rank so unusual, a zeal, that in many instances they even

sacrificed to its advancement the prime objects of their ambition.

Wulfere, king of the West Saxons, bestowed the Isle of Wight on the king

of Sussex, to persuade him to embrace Christianity. (Bed. Hist. Eccl.

l. iv. c. 13.) This zeal operated in the same manner in favour of their

instructors. The greatest kings and conquerors frequently resigned their

crowns, and shut themselves up in monasteries. When kings became monks,

a high lustre was reflected upon the monastic state, and great credit

accrued to the power of their doctrine, which was able to produce such

extraordinary effects upon persons, over whom religion has commonly the

slightest influence.

The zeal of the missionaries was also much assisted by their superiority

in the arts of civil life. At their first preaching in Sussex, that

country was reduced to the greatest distress from a drought, which had

continued for three years. The barbarous inhabitants, destitute of

any means to alleviate the famine, in an epidemic transport of despair

frequently united forty and fifty in a body, and joining their hands,

precipitated themselves from the cliffs, and were either drowned or

dashed to pieces on the rocks. Though a maritime people, they knew

not how to fish; and this ignorance probably arose from a remnant of

Druidical superstition, which had forbidden the use of that sort of

diet. In this calamity, Bishop Wilfred, their first preacher, collecting

nets, at the head of his attendants, plunged into the sea; and having

opened this great resource of food, he reconciled the desperate people

to life, and their minds to the spiritual care of those who had shown

themselves so attentive to their temporal preservation. (Bed. Hist.

Eccl. l. iv. c. 13.) The same regard to the welfare of the people

appeared in all their actions. The Christian kings sometimes made

donations to the church of lands conquered from their heathen enemies.

The clergy immediately baptized and manumitted their new vassals. Thus

they endeared to all sorts of men doctrines and teachers, which could

mitigate the rigorous law of conquest; and they rejoiced to see religion

and liberty advancing with an equal progress. Nor were the monks in

this time in anything more worthy of their praise than in their zeal

for personal freedom. In the canon, wherein they provided against the

alienation of their lands, among other charitable exceptions to this

restraint, they particularize the purchase of liberty. (Spelm. Concil.

Page 329.) In their transactions with the great the same point was

always strenuously laboured. When they imposed penance, they were

remarkably indulgent to persons of that rank. But they always made them

purchase the remission of corporal austerity by acts of beneficence.

They urged their powerful penitents to the enfranchisement of their own

slaves, and to the redemption of those which belonged to others; they

directed them to the repair of highways, and to the construction of

churches, bridges, and other works of general utility. (Instauret

etiam Dei ecclesiam; et instauret vias publicas, pontibus super aquas

profundas et super caenosas vias; et manumittat servos suos proprios, et

redimat ab aliis hominibus servos suos ad libertatem.--L. Eccl. Edgari

14.) They extracted the fruits of virtue even from crimes, and whenever

a great man expiated his private offences, he provided in the same act

for the public happiness. The monasteries were then the only bodies

corporate in the kingdom; and if any persons were desirous to perpetuate

their charity by a fund for the relief of the sick or indigent, there

was no other way than to confide this trust to some monastery. The monks

were the sole channel, through which the bounty of the rich could pass

in any continued stream to the poor; and the people turned their eyes

towards them in all their distresses.

We must observe, that the monks of that time, especially those from

Ireland (Aidanus Finam et Colmanus mirae sanctitatis fuerunt et

parsimoniae. Adeo enim sacerdotes erant illius temporis ab avaritia

immunes, ut nec territoria nisi coacti acciperent.--Hen. Hunting. apud

Decem. l. iii. page 333. Bed. Hist. Eccl. l. iii. c. 26.), who had a

considerable share in the conversion of all the northern parts, did not

show that rapacious desire of riches, which long disgraced, and finally

ruined, their successors. Not only did they not seek, but seemed even to

shun, such donations. This prevented that alarm, which might have arisen

from an early and declared avarice. At this time the most fervent and

holy anchorites retired to places the furthest that could be found from

human concourse and help, to the most desolate and barren situations,

which even from their horror seemed particularly adapted to men who had

renounced the world. Many persons followed them in order to partake

of their instructions and prayers, or to form themselves upon their

example. An opinion of their miracles after their death drew still

greater numbers. Establishments were gradually made. The monastic life

was frugal, and the government moderate. These causes drew a constant

concourse. Sanctified deserts assumed a new face; the marshes were

drained, and the lands cultivated. And as this revolution seemed rather

the effect of the holiness of the place than of any natural causes,

it increased their credit; and every improvement drew with it a new

donation. In this manner the great abbeys of Croyland and Glastonbury,

and many others, from the most obscure beginnings, were advanced to a

degree of wealth and splendour little less than royal. In these rude

ages, government was not yet fixed upon solid principles, and everything

was full of tumult and distraction. As the monasteries were better

secured from violence by their character, than any other places by laws,

several great men, and even sovereign princes, were obliged to take

refuge in convents, who, when by a more happy revolution in their

fortunes they were reinstated in their former dignities, thought they

could never make a sufficient return for the safety they had enjoyed

under the sacred hospitality of these roofs. Not content to enrich them

with ample possessions, that others also might partake of the protection

they had experienced, they formally erected into an asylum those

monasteries, and their adjacent territory. So that all thronged to that

refuge, who were rendered unquiet by their crimes, their misfortunes, or

the severity of their lords; and content to live under a government,

to which their minds were subject, they raised the importance of their

masters by their numbers, their labour, and above all, by an inviolable

attachment.

The monastery was always the place of sepulture for the greatest

lords and kings. This added to the other causes of reverence a sort of

sanctity, which, in universal opinion, always attends the repositories

of the dead; and they acquired also thereby a more particular protection

against the great and powerful; for who would violate the tomb of his

ancestors, or his own? It was not an unnatural weakness to think, that

some advantage might be derived from lying in holy places, and amongst

holy persons: and this superstition was fomented with the greatest

industry and art. The monks of Glastonbury spread a notion, that it was

almost impossible any person should be damned, whose body lay in their

cemetery. This must be considered as coming in aid of the amplest of

their resources, prayer for the dead.

But there was no part of their policy, of whatever nature, that procured

to them a greater or juster credit, than their cultivation of learning

and useful arts. For if the monks contributed to the fall of science in

the Roman empire, it is certain, that the introduction of learning and

civility into this northern world is entirely owing to their labours.

It is true, that they cultivated letters only in a secondary way, and as

subsidiary to religion. But the scheme of Christianity is such, that

it almost necessitates an attention to many kinds of learning. For

the Scripture is by no means an irrelative system of moral and divine

truths; but it stands connected with so many histories, and with the

laws, opinions, and manners of so many various sorts of people, and in

such different times, that it is altogether impossible to arrive to

any tolerable knowledge of it, without having recourse to much exterior

inquiry. For which reason the progress of this religion has always been

marked by that of letters. There were two other circumstances at this

time, that contributed no less to the revival of learning. The sacred

writings had not been translated into any vernacular language, and even

the ordinary service of the church was still continued in the Latin

tongue; all, therefore, who formed themselves for the ministry, and

hoped to make any figure in it, were in a manner driven to the study

of the writers of polite antiquity, in order to qualify themselves

for their most ordinary functions. By this means a practice, liable in

itself to great objections, had a considerable share in preserving the

wrecks of literature; and was one means of conveying down to our times

those inestimable monuments, which otherwise, in the tumult of barbarous

confusion on one hand, and untaught piety on the other, must inevitably

have perished. The second circumstance, the pilgrimages of that age, if

considered in itself, was as liable to objection as the former; but it

proved of equal advantage to the cause of literature. A principal object

of these pious journeys was Rome, which contained all the little that

was left in the western world, of ancient learning and taste. The other

great object of those pilgrimages was Jerusalem; this led them into the

Grecian empire, which still subsisted in the East with great majesty

and power. Here the Greeks had not only not discontinued the ancient

studies, but they added to the stock of arts many inventions of

curiosity and convenience that were unknown to antiquity. When,

afterwards, the Saracens prevailed in that part of the world, the

pilgrims had also, by the same means, an opportunity of profiting

from the improvements of that laborious people; and however little the

majority of these pious travellers might have had such objects in

their view, something useful must unavoidably have stuck to them; a

few certainly saw with more discernment, and rendered their travels

serviceable to their country by importing other things besides miracles

and legends. Thus a communication was opened between this remote island

and countries, of which it otherwise could then scarcely have heard

mention made; and pilgrimages thus preserved that intercourse amongst

mankind, which is now formed by politics, commerce, and learned

curiosity. It is not wholly unworthy of observation, that Providence,

which strongly appears to have intended the continual intermixture of

mankind, never leaves the human mind destitute of a principle to

effect it. This purpose is sometimes carried on by a sort of migratory

instinct, sometimes by the spirit of conquest; at one time avarice

drives men from their homes, at another they are actuated by a thirst

of knowledge; where none of these causes can operate, the sanctity of

particular places attracts men from the most distant quarters. It was

this motive which sent thousands in those ages to Jerusalem and Rome;

and now, in a full tide, impels half the world annually to Mecca.

By those voyages, the seeds of various kinds of knowledge and

improvement were at different times imported into England. They were

cultivated in the leisure and retirement of monasteries; otherwise they

could not have been cultivated at all: for it was altogether necessary

to draw certain men from the general rude and fierce society, and wholly

to set a bar between them and the barbarous life of the rest of the

world, in order to fit them for study, and the cultivation of arts and

science. Accordingly, we find everywhere, in the first institutions

for the propagation of knowledge amongst any people, that those, who

followed it, were set apart and secluded from the mass of the community.

The great ecclesiastical chair of this kingdom, for near a century, was

filled by foreigners; they were nominated by the popes, who were in that

age just or politic enough to appoint persons of a merit in some degree

adequate to that important charge. Through this series of foreign and

learned prelates, continual accessions were made to the originally

slender stock of English literature. The greatest and most valuable of

these accessions was made in the time and by the care of Theodorus, the

seventh archbishop of Canterbury. He was a Greek by birth; a man of a

high ambitious spirit, and of a mind more liberal, and talents better

cultivated, than generally fell to the lot of the western prelates. He

first introduced the study of his native language into this island.

He brought with him a number of valuable books in many faculties; and

amongst them a magnificent copy of the works of Homer; the most ancient

and best of poets, and the best chosen to inspire a people, just

initiated into letters, with an ardent love, and with a true taste for

the sciences. Under his influence a school was formed at Canterbury; and

thus the other great fountain of knowledge, the Greek tongue, was opened

in England in the year of our Lord 669.

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