THE LEGACY OF THE EARLY CHURCH TO FUTURE GENERATIONS.
It is my object in this chapter to show the great Christian ideas which
the fathers promulgated, and which have proved of so great influence on
the Middle Ages and our own civilization. These were declared before the
Roman empire fell; and if they did not arrest ruin, still alleviated the
miseries of society, and laid the foundation of all that is most
ennobling among modern nations. The early church should be the most
glorious chapter in the history of humanity. While the work of
destruction was going on in every part of the world, both by vice and
violence, there was still the new work of creation proceeding with it, a
precious savor of life to future ages. If there is any thing sublime, it
is the power of renovating ideas amid universal degeneracy. They are
seeds of truth, which grow and ripen into grand institutions. These did
not become of sufficient importance to arrest the attention of
historians until they were cultivated by the Germanic nations in the
Middle Ages.
It could be shown that almost everything which gives glory to Christian
civilization had its origin in the early church. Few are aware what
giants and heroes were those fathers and saints whom this age has been
taught to despise. We are really reaping the results of those conflicts--
conflicts with bigoted Jewish sects; conflicts with the high priests of
paganism, with Greek philosophers, with Gnostic Manichaean illuminati;
with the symbolists, soothsayers, astrologers, magicians, which mystic
superstition conjured up among degenerate people. And not merely their
conflicts with the prince of the power of the air alone, but with
themselves, with their own fiery passions, and with tangible outward
foes. They were illustrious champions and martyrs in the midst of a
great Vanity Fair, in a Nebuchadnezzar fire of persecutions, an all-
pervading atmosphere of lies, impurities, and abominations which cried
to heaven for vengeance. They solved for us and for all future
generations the thousand of new questions which audacious paganism
proposed in its last struggles; they exposed the bubbles which charmed
that giddy generation of egotists; they eliminated the falsehoods which
vain-glorious philosophers had inwrought with revelation; and they
attested, with dying agonies, to the truth of those mysteries which gave
them consolation and hope amid the terrors of a dissolving world. They
absorbed even into the sphere of Christianity all that was really
valuable in the system they exploded, whether of philosophy or social
life, and transmitted the same to future ages. And they set examples, of
which the world will never lose sight, of patience, fortitude, courage,
generosity, which will animate all martyrs to the end of time. And if,
in view of their great perplexities, of circumstances which they could
not control, utter degeneracy and approaching barbarism, they lent their
aid to some institutions which we cannot endorse, certainly when
corrupted, like Manichaeism and ecclesiastical domination, let us
remember that these were adapted to their times, or were called out by
pressing exigencies. And further, let us bear in mind that, in giving
their endorsement, they could not predict the abuse of principles
abstractly good and wise, like poverty, and obedience, and chastity, and
devout meditation, and solitary communion with God. In all their conduct
and opinions, we see, nevertheless, a large-hearted humanity, a
toleration and charity for human infirmities, and a beautiful spirit of
brotherly love. If they advocated definite creeds with great vehemence
and earnestness, they yet soared beyond them, and gloried in the general
name they bore, until the fundamental doctrines of their religion were
assailed.
For two centuries, however, they have no history out of the records of
martyrdom. We know their sufferings better than any peculiar ideas which
they advocated. We have testimony to their blameless lives, to their
irreproachable morals, to their good citizenship, and to their Christian
graces, rather than to any doctrines which stand out as especial marks
for discussion or conflict, like those which agitated the councils of
Nice or Ephesus. But if we were asked what was the first principle which
was brought out by the history of the early church, we should say it was
that of martyrdom. Certainly the first recorded act in the history of
Christianity was that memorable scene on Calvary, when the founder of
our religion announced the fulfillment of the covenant made with Adam in
the Garden of Eden. And as the deliverance of mankind was effected by
that great sacrifice for sin, so the earliest development of Christian
life was the spirit of martyrdom. The moral grandeur with which the
martyrs met reproach, isolation, persecution, suffering, and death, not
merely robbed the grave of its victory, but implanted a principle of
inestimable power among all future heroes. Martyrdom kindled an heroic
spirit, not for the conquest of nations, but for the conquest of the
soul, and the resignation of all that earth can give in attestation of
grand and saving truths. We have a few examples of martyrs in pagan
antiquity, like Socrates and Seneca, who met death with fortitude,--but
not with faith, not with indestructible joy that this mortal was about
to put on immortality. The Christian martyrdoms were a new development
of humanity. They taught the necessity of present sacrifice for future
glory, and more, for the great interests of truth and virtue, with which
good men had been identified. They brought life and immortality to the
view of the people, who had not dared to speculate on their future
condition. Their martyrs inspired a spirit into society that nothing
could withstand; a practical belief that the life was more than meat;
that the future was greater than the present: and this surely is one of
the grand fundamental principles of Christianity. They incited to a
spirit of fortitude and courage under all the evils of life, and gave
dignity to men who would otherwise have been insignificant. The example
of men who rejoiced to part with their lives for the sake of their
religion, became to the world the most impressive voice which it yet
heard of the insignificance of this life when compared with the life to
come. "What will it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his
own soul?" became thus one of the most stupendous inquiries which could
be impressed on future generations, and affected all the relations of
society. Martyrdom was one solution of this mighty question which
introduced a new power upon the earth, for we cannot conceive of
Christianity as an all-conquering influence, except as it unfolds a new
and superior existence, in contrast with which the present is worthless.
The principle of martyrdom, setting at defiance the present, led to
unbounded charity and the renunciation of worldly possessions. What are
they really worth? Every martyr had the comparative worthlessness of
wealth and honor and comfort profoundly impressed upon his mind, in view
of the greatness of the Infinite and the importance of the future.
The early martyrdoms thus brought out with immeasurable force the
principle of faith, without which life can have no object,--faith in
future destinies, faith in the promises of God, faith in the power of
the Cross to subdue finally all forms of evil. The sacrifice of Christ
introduced into the world sentiments of unbounded love and gratitude,
that He, the most perfect type of humanity, and the Son of God himself,
should come into this world to bear its sins upon the cross, and thus
give a heaven which could not be bought by expiatory gifts. It was love
which prompted the crucifixion of Jesus; and love produced love, and
stimulated thousands to bear with patience the evils under which they
would have sunk. The martyrdoms of the early Christians did not indeed
kindle sentiments of gratitude; but they inspired courage, and led to
immeasurable forms of heroism. The timid and the shrinking woman, the
down-trodden slave, and the despised pauper, all at once became serene,
lofty, unconquerable, since they knew that though their earthly
tabernacle would be destroyed, they had a dwelling in the heavens free
from all future toil and sorrow and reproach. Martyrdoms made this world
nothing and heaven everything. They proved a powerful faith in the
ultimate prevalence of truth, and created an invincible moral heroism,
which excited universal admiration; and they furnished models and
examples to future generations, when Christians were subjected to bitter
trials.
We cannot but feel that martyrdom is one of the most impressive of all
human examples, since it is the mark of a practical belief in God and
heaven. And while we recognize it as among the most interesting among
spiritual triumphs, we are persuaded that the absence of its spirit, or
its decline, is usually followed by a low state of society. Epicureanism
is its antagonistic principle, and is as destructive as the other is
conservative. The moment men are unwilling to sacrifice themselves to a
great cause, they virtually say that temporal and worldly interests are
to be preferred to the spiritual and the future. The language of the
Epicurean is intensely egotistic. It is: "Soul, take thine ease; eat,
drink, and be merry;" to which God says, "Thou fool." Christianity was
sent to destroy this egotism, which undermined the strength of the
ancient world; and it created a practical belief in the future, and a
faith in truth. Without this faith, society has ever retrograded; with
it there have been continual reforms. It is an important element of
progress, and a mark of dignity and moral greatness.
Shall we seek a connection between their martyrdoms and civilization?
They bore witness to a religion which is the source of all true progress
upon earth; they attested to its divine truth amid protracted agonies;
they were illustrious examples for all ages to contemplate.
Perhaps the most powerful effect of their voluntary sacrifice was to
secure credence to the mysteries of Christianity. Socrates died for his
own opinions; but who was ever willing to die for the opinions of
Socrates? But innumerable martyrs exulted in the privilege of dying for
the doctrines of Him whose sacrifice saved the world. Nor to these had
death its customary terrors, since they were assured of a glorious
immortality. They impressed the pagan world with a profound lesson that
the future is greater than the present; that there is to be a day of
rewards and punishments. Amid all the miseries and desolations of
society, it was a great thing to bear witness to the reality of future
happiness and misery. The hope of immortality must have been an
unspeakable consolation to the miserable sufferers of the Roman Empire.
It gave to them courage and patience and fortitude. It inspired them
with hope and peace. Amid the ravages of disease, and the incursions of
barbarians, and the dissolution of society, and the approaching eclipse
of the glory of man, it was a great and holy mystery that the soul
should survive these evils, and that eternal bliss should be the reward
of the faithful. Nothing else could have reconciled the inhabitants of
the decaying empire to slavery, war, and pillage. There was needed some
powerful support to the mind under the complicated calamities of the
times. This support the death and exultation of the martyrs afforded. It
was written on the souls of the suffering millions that there was a
higher life, a glorious future, an exceeding great reward. It was
impossible to see thousands ready to die, exulting in the privilege of
martyrdom, anticipating with confidence their "crown," and not feel that
immortality was a certitude brought to light by the Gospel. And the
example of the martyrs kindled all the best emotions of the soul into a
hallowed glow. Their death, so serene and beautiful, filled the
spectators with love and admiration. Their sufferings brought to light
the greatest virtues, and diffused their spirit into the heart of all
who saw their indestructible joy. Is it nothing, in such an age, to have
given an impulse to the most exalted sentiments that men can cherish?
The welfare of nations is based on the indestructible certitudes of
love, friendship, faith, fortitude, self-sacrifice. It was not Marathon
so much as Thermopylae which imparted vitality to Grecian heroism, and
made that memorable self-sacrifice one of the eternal pillars which mark
national advancement. So the sufferings of the martyrs, for the sake of
Christ, warmed the dissolving empire with a belief in Heaven, and
prepared it to encounter the most unparalleled wretchedness which our
world has seen. They gave a finishing blow to Epicureanism and skeptical
cynicism; so that in the calamities which soon after happened, men were
buoyed with hope and trust. They may have hidden themselves in caves and
deserts, they may have sought monastic retreats, they may have lost
faith in man and all mundane glories, they may have consumed their lives
in meditation and solitude, they may have anticipated the dissolution of
all things, but they awaited in faith the coming of their Lord. Prepared
for any issue or any calamity, a class of heroes arose to show the moral
greatness of the passive virtues, and the triumphs of faith amid the
wrecks of material grandeur. Were not such needed at the close of the
fourth century? Especially were not such bright examples needed for the
ages which were to come? Polycarp and Cyprian were the precursors of the
martyrs of the Middle Ages, and were of the Reformation. Early
persecutions developed the spirit of martyrdom, which is the seed of the
church, impressed it upon the mind of the world, and prepared the way
for the moral triumphs of the Beckets and Savonarolas of remote
generations. Martyrdoms were the first impressive facts in the history
of the church, and the idea of dying for a faith one of the most signal
evidences of superiority over the ancient religions. It was a new idea,
which had utterly escaped the old guides of mankind.
Another great idea which was promulgated by the church long before the
empire fell, was that of benevolence. Charities were not one of the
fruits of paganism. Men may have sold their goods and given to the poor,
but we have no record of such deeds. Hospitals and eleemosynary
institutions were nearly unknown. When a man was unfortunate, there was
nothing left to him but to suffer and die. There was no help from
others. All were engrossed in their schemes of pleasure or ambition, and
compassion was rare. The sick and diseased died without alleviation.
"The spectator who gazed upon the magnificent buildings which covered
the seven hills, temples, arches, porticoes, theatres, baths and
palaces, could discover no hospitals and asylums, unless perchance the
temple of Aesculapius, on an island in the Tiber, where the maimed and
sick were left in solitude to struggle with the pangs of death." But the
church fed the hungry, and clothed the naked, and visited the prisoner,
and lodged the stranger. Charity was one of the fundamental injunctions
of Christ and of the Apostles. The New Testament breathes unbounded
love, benevolence so extensive and universal that self was ignored.
Self-denial, in doing good to others, was one of the virtues expected of
every Christian. Hence the first followers of our Lord had all things in
common. Property was supposed to belong to the whole church, rather than
to individuals. "Go and sell all that thou hast" was literally
interpreted. It devolved on the whole church to see that strangers were
entertained, that the sick were nursed, that the poor were fed, that
orphans were protected, that those who were in prison were visited. For
these purposes contributions were taken up in all assemblies convened
for public worship. Individuals also emulated the whole church, and gave
away their possessions to the poor. Matrons, especially, devoted
themselves to these works of charity, feeding the poor, and visiting the
sick. They visited the meanest hovels and the most dismal prisons. But
"what heathen," says Tertullian, "will suffer his wife to go about from
one street to another to the houses of strangers? What heathen would
allow her to steal away into the dungeon to kiss the chain of the
martyr?" And these works of benevolence were not bestowed upon friends
alone, but upon strangers; and it was this, particularly, which struck
the pagans with wonder and admiration--that men of different countries,
ranks, and relations of life, were bound together by an invisible cord
of love. A stranger, with letters to the "brethren," was sure of a
generous and hearty welcome. There were no strangers among the
Christians; they were all brothers; they called each other brother and
sister; they gave to each other the fraternal kiss; they knew of no
distinctions; they all had an equal claim to the heritage of the church.
And this generosity and benevolence extended itself to the wants of
Christians in distant lands; the churches redeemed captives taken in
war, and even sold the consecrated vessels for that purpose on rare
occasions, as Ambrose did at Milan. A single bishop, in the third
century, supported two thousand poor people. Cyprian raised at one time
a sum equal to four thousand dollars in his church at Carthage, to be
sent to the Manichaean bishops for the purposes of charity. Especially in
times of public calamity was this spirit of benevolence manifested, and
in striking contrast with the pagans. [Footnote: Neander, vol. i.
Section 3.] When Alexandria was visited with the plague during the
reign of Gallienus, the pagans deserted their friends upon the first
symptoms of disease; they left them to die in the streets, without even
taking the trouble to bury them when dead; they only thought of escaping
from the contagion themselves. The Christians, on the contrary, took the
bodies of their brethren in their arms, waited upon them without
thinking of themselves, ministered to their wants, and buried them with
all possible care, even while the best people of the community,
presbyters and deacons, lost their own lives by their self-sacrificing
generosity. [Footnote: Eusebius, 1. vii. chap. 22.] And when Carthage
was ravaged by a similar pestilence in the reign of Gallus, the pagans
deserted the sick and the dying, and the streets were filled with dead
bodies, which greatly increased the infection. No one came near them
except for purposes of plunder; but Cyprian, calling his people together
in the church, said: "If we do good only to our own, what do we more
than publicans and heathens." Animated by his words, the members of the
church divided the work between them, the rich giving money, and the
poor labor, so that in a short time the bodies which filled the streets
were buried.
And this principle of benevolence has never been relinquished by the
church. It was one of the foundation-pillars of monastic life in the
Middle Ages, when monasteries and convents were blessed retreats for the
miserable and unfortunate, where all strangers found a shelter and a
home; where they diffused charities upon all who sought their aid. The
monastery itself was built upon charities, upon the gifts and legacies
of the pious. In pagan Rome men willed away their fortunes to favorites;
they were rarely bestowed upon the poor. But Christianity inculcated
everywhere the necessity of charities, not merely as a test of Christian
hope and faith, but as one of the conditions of salvation itself. One of
the most glorious features of our modern civilization is the wide-spread
system of public benevolence extended to missions, to destitute
churches, to hospitals, to colleges, to alms-houses, to the support of
the poor, who are not left to die unheeded as in the ancient world.
Every form of Christianity, every sect and party, has its peculiar
charities; but charities for some good object are a primal principle of
the common creed. What immeasurable blessings have been bestowed upon
mankind in consequence of this law of kindness and love! What a
beautiful feature it is in the whole progress of civilization!
The early church had set a good example of patience under persecution,
and practical benevolence extended into every form of social life which
has been instituted in every succeeding age, and to which the healthy
condition of society may in a measure be traced.
The next mission of the church was to give dignity and importance to the
public preaching of the Gospel, which has never since been lost sight
of, and has been no inconsiderable element of our civilization. This was
entirely new in the history of society. The pagan priest did not exhort
the people to morality, or point out their religious duties, or remind
them of their future destinies, or expound the great principles of
religious faith. He offered up sacrifices to the Deity, and appeared in
imposing ceremonials. He wore rich and gorgeous dresses to dazzle the
senses of the people, or excite their imaginations. It was his duty to
appeal to the gods, and not to men; to propitiate them with costly
rites, to surround himself with mystery, to inspire awe, and excite
superstitious feelings. The Christian minister had a loftier sphere.
While he appealed to God in prayer, and approached his altar with
becoming solemnity, it was also his duty to preach to the people, as
Paul and the Apostles did throughout the heathen world, in order to
convert them to Christianity, and change the whole character of their
lives and habits. The presbyter, while he baptized believers and
administered the symbolic bread and wine, also taught the people,
explained to them the mysteries, enforced upon them the obligations,
appealed to their intellects, their consciences, and their hearts. He
plunged fearlessly into every subject bearing upon religious life, and
boldly presented it for contemplation.
What a grand theatre for the development of mind, for healthy
instruction and commanding influence, was opened by the Christian
pulpit. There was no sphere equal to it in moral dignity and force. It
threw into the shade the theatre and the forum. And in times when
printing was unknown, it was almost the only way by which the people
could be taught. It vastly added to the power of the clergy, and gave
them an influence that the old priests of paganism could never exercise.
It created an entirely new power in the world, a moral power, indeed,
but one to which history presents no equal. The philosophers taught in
their schools, they taught a few admiring pupils; but the sphere of
their teachings was limited, and also the number whom they could
address. The pulpit became an institution. All the Christians were
required to assemble regularly for public instruction as well as
worship. On every seventh day the people laid aside their secular duties
and devoted themselves to religious improvement. The pulpit gave power
to the Sabbath; and what an institution is the Christian Sabbath. To the
Sabbath and to public preaching Christendom owes more than to all other
sources of moral elevation combined. It is true that the Jewish
synagogue furnished a model to the church; but the Levitical race
claimed no peculiar sanctity, and discharged no friendly office beyond
the precincts of the temple. In the synagogue the people assembled to
pray, or to hear the Scriptures read and expounded, not to receive
religious instruction. The Jewish religion was as full of ceremonials as
the pagan, and the intellectual part of it was confined to the lawyers,
to the rabbinical hierarchy. But the preaching of the great doctrines of
Christianity was made a peculiarly sacred office, and given to a class
of men who avoided all secular pursuits. The Christian priest was the
recognized head of the society which he taught and controlled. In
process of time, he became a great dignitary, controlling various
interests; but his first mission was to preach, and his first theme was
a crucified Saviour. He ascended the pulpit every week as an authorized
as well as a sacred teacher, and, in the illustration of his subjects,
he was allowed great latitude in which to roam. It is not easy to
appreciate what a difference there was between pagan and Christian
communities from the rise of this new power, and we might also say
institution, since the pulpit and the Sabbath are interlinked and
associated together. Whatever the world has gained by the Sabbath, that
gain is intensified and increased vastly by public teaching. It placed
the Christian as far beyond the Jew, as the Jew was before beyond the
pagan. It also created a sacerdotal caste. The people may have had the
privilege of pouring out their hearts before the brethren, and of
speaking for their edification, but all the members were not fitted for
the secular office of teachers. Christianity claims the faculties of
knowledge, as well as those of feeling. Teaching was early felt to be a
great gift, implying not only superior knowledge, but superior wisdom and
grace. Only a few possessed the precious charisma to address profitably
the assembled people, [Greek: charisma didaskalias], and those few
became the appointed guides of the Christian flocks, [Greek: didaskaloi].
Other officers of the new communities shared with them the administration,
but the teacher was the highest officer, and he became gradually the
presbyter, whose peculiar function it was to discourse to the people on
the great themes which it was their duty to learn. And even after the
presbyter became a bishop, it was his chief office to teach publicly,
even as late as the fourth and fifth centuries. Leo and Gregory, the
great bishops of Rome, were eloquent preachers.
Thus the church gradually claimed the great prerogative of eloquence.
Eloquence was not born in the church, but it was sanctified, and set
apart, and appropriated to a thousand new purposes, and especially
identified with the public teaching of the people. The great mysteries,
the profound doctrines, the suggestive truths, the touching histories,
the practical duties of Christianity were seized and enforced by the
public teacher; and eloquence appeared in the sermon. In pagan ages,
eloquence was confined to the forum or the senate chamber, and was
directed entirely into secular channels. It was always highly esteemed
as the birthright of genius--an inspiration, like poetry, rather than an
art to be acquired. But it was not always the handmaid of poetry and
music; it was brought down to earth for practical purposes, and employed
chiefly in defending criminals, or procuring the passage of laws, or
stimulating the leaders of society to important acts. The gift of tongue
was reserved for rhetoricians, lawyers, politicians, philosophers; not
for priests, who were intercessors with the Divine. Now Christianity
adopted all the arts of eloquence, and enriched them, and applied them
to a variety of new subjects. She carried away in triumph the brightest
ornament of the pagan schools, and placed it in the hands of her chosen
ministers. The pulpit soon began to rival the forum in the displays of a
heaven-born art, which was now consecrated to far loftier purposes than
those to which it had been applied. As public instruction became more
and more learned, it also became more and more eloquent, for the
preacher had opportunity, subject, audience, motive, all of which are
required for great perfection in public speaking. He assembled a living
congregation at stated intervals; he had the range of all those lofty
inquiries which entrance the soul; and he had souls to save--the
greatest conceivable motive to a good man who realizes the truths of the
Gospel. All human enterprises and schemes become ultimately insipid to a
man who has no lofty view of benefiting mankind, or his family, or his
friend. We were made to do good. Take away this stimulus, and energy
itself languishes and droops. There is no object in life to a seeker of
pleasure or gain, when once the passion is gratified. What object of
pity so melancholy as a man worn out with egotistical excitements, and
incapable of being amused. But he who labors for the good of others is
never ennuied. The benevolent physician, the patriotic statesman, the
conscientious lawyer, the enthusiastic teacher, the dreaming author, all
work and toil in weary labors, with the hope of being useful to the
bodies, or the intellects, or the minds of the people. This is the great
condition of happiness. There is an excitement in gambling as in
pleasure, in money-making as in money-spending; but it wears out, or
exhausts the noble faculties, and ends in ennui or self-reproach and
bitter disappointment. It is not the condition of our nature, which was
made to be useful, to seek the good of others. They are the happiest and
most esteemed who have this good constantly at heart. There can be no
unhappiness to a man absorbed in doing good. He may be poor and
persecuted like Socrates; he may walk barefooted, and have domestic
griefs, and be deprived of his comforts--but he is serene, for the soul
triumphs over the body. Now, what motive so grand as to save the
immortal part of man. This desire filled the ancient Christian orator
with a preternatural enthusiasm, as well as gave to him an unlimited
power, and an imposing dignity. He was the most happy of mortals when
led to the blazing fire of his persecutors, and he was the most august.
The feeling that he was kindling a fire which should never be quenched,
even that which was to burn up all the wicked idols of an idolatrous
generation, unloosed his tongue and animated his features. The most
striking examples of seraphic joy, of a sort of divine beauty playing
upon the features, are among orators. In animated conversation, a person
ordinarily homely, like Madame de Stael, becomes beautiful and
impressive. But in the pulpit, when the sacred orator is moving a
congregation with the fears and hopes of another world, there is a
majesty in his beauty which is nowhere else so fully seen. There is no
eloquence like that of the pulpit, when the preacher is gifted and in
earnest. Greece had her Pericles and Demosthenes, and Rome her
Hortensius and Cicero. Many other great orators we could mention. But
when Greece and Rome had an intellectual existence such as that to which
our modern times furnish no parallel, in our absorbing pursuit of
pleasure and gain, and amid the wealth of mechanical inventions, there
were, even in those classic lands, but few orators whose names have
descended to our times; while, in the church, in a degenerated period,
when literature and science were nearly extinct, there were a greater
number of Christian orators than what classic antiquity furnished. Yea,
in those dark and miserable ages which succeeded the fall of the Roman
empire, there were in every land remarkable pulpit orators, like those
who fanned the Crusades. There was no eloquence in the Middle Ages
outside the church. Bernard exercised a far greater moral power than
Cicero in the fullness of his fame. And in our modern times, what
orators have arisen like those whom the Reformation produced, both in
the Roman Catholic church, and among the numerous sects which protested
against her? What orator has Germany given birth to equal in fame to
Luther? What orator in France has reached the celebrity of Bossuet, or
Bourdaloue, or Massillon? Even amid all the excitements attending the
change of government, who have had power on the people like a Lacordaire
or Monod? In England, the great orators have been preachers, with a very
few exceptions; and these men would have been still greater in the arts
of public speaking had they been trained in the church. In our day, we
have seen great orators in secular life, but they yield in fascination
either to those who are accustomed to speak from the sacred desk, or to
those whose training has been clerical, like many of our popular
lecturers. Nothing ever opened such an arena of eloquence as the
preaching of the Gospel, either in the ancient, the mediaeval, or the
modern world, not merely from the grandeur and importance of the themes
discussed, but also from the number of the speakers. In a legislative
assembly, where all are supposed to be able to address an audience, and
some are expected to be eloquent, only two or three can be heard in a
day. Only some twenty or thirty able speeches are delivered in Congress
or Parliament in a whole session; but in England, or the United States,
some thirty thousand preachers are speaking at the same time, many of
whom are far more gifted, learned, and brilliant than any found in the
great councils of the nation. Nor is this eloquence confined to the
Protestant church; it exists also in the Roman Catholic in every land.
There are no more earnest and inspiring orators than in Italy or France.
Even in rude and unlettered and remote districts, we often hear
specimens of eloquence which would be wonderful in capitals. What chance
has the bar, in a large city, compared with the pulpit, for the display
of eloquence? Probably there are more eloquent addresses delivered every
Sunday from the various pulpits of Christendom than were pronounced by
all the orators of Greece during the whole period of her political
existence. Doubtless there are more touching and effective appeals made
to the popular heart every Sunday in every Christian land, than are made
during the whole year beside on subjects essentially secular. Then what
an impulse has pulpit oratory given to objects of a strictly
philanthropic character! The church has been the nurse and mother of all
schemes of benevolence since it was organized. It is itself a great
philanthropic institution, binding up the wounds of the prisoner,
relieving the distressed, and stimulating great enterprises. For all of
this the pulpit has been called upon, and has lent its aid; so that the
world has been more indebted to the eloquence of divines than to any
other source. Who can calculate the moral force of one hundred and fifty
thousand to two hundred thousand Christian preachers in a world like
ours, most of whom are arrayed on the side of morality and learning. It
may be said that these benefits may more properly be considered to flow
from Christianity as revealed in the Bible; that the Bible is the cause
of all this great impulse to civilization. We do not object to such an
interpretation; nevertheless, in specifying the influence of the church,
even before the empire fell, the creation of pulpit eloquence should be
mentioned, since this has contributed so much to the moral elevation of
Christendom. Christianity would be shorn of half her triumphs were it
not for the public preaching of her truths. Paganism had no public
teachers who regularly taught the people and stimulated their noblest
energies. It was a new institution, these Sabbath-day exercises, and has
had an inconceivable influence on the progress and condition of the
race. The power of the Gospel was indeed the main and primary cause; but
the church must have the credit of appropriating what was most prized in
the intellectual centres of antiquity, and giving to it a new direction.
Christian oratory is also an interesting subject to present in merely
its artistical relations. Its vast influence no one can question.
Again, who can estimate the debt which civilization, in its largest and
most comprehensive sense, owes to the fathers of the early church, in
the elaboration of Christian doctrine. They found the heathen world
enslaved by a certain class of most degrading notions of God, of deity,
of goodness, of the future, of rewards and punishments. Indeed, its
opinions were wrong and demoralizing in almost every point pertaining to
the spiritual relations of man. They met the wants of their times by
seizing on the great radical principles of Christianity, which most
directly opposed these demoralizing ideas, and by giving them the
prominence which was needed. Moreover, in the church itself, opinions
were from time to time broached, so intimately allied with pagan
philosophies and oriental theogonies, that the faith of Christians was
in danger of being subverted. The Scriptures were indeed recognized to
contain all that is essential in Christian truth to know; but they still
allowed great latitude of belief, and contradictory creeds were drawn
from the same great authority. If the Bible was to be the salvation of
man, or the great thesaurus of religious truth, it was necessary to
systematize and generalize its great doctrines, both to oppose dangerous
heathen customs and heretical opinions in the church itself. And more
even than this, to set forth a standard of faith for all the ages which
were to come; not an arbitrary system of dogmas, but those which the
Scriptures most directly and emphatically recognized. Christian life had
been set forth by the martyrs in the various forms of teaching, in the
worship of God, in the exercise of those virtues and graces which Christ
had enjoined, in benevolence, in charity, in faith, in prayer, in
patience, in the different relations of social life, in the sacraments,
in the fasts and festivals, in the occupations which might be profitably
and honorably carried on. But Christianity influenced thought and
knowledge as well as external relations. It did not declare a rigid
system of doctrines when first promulgated. This was to be developed
when the necessity required it. For two centuries there were but few
creeds, and these very simple and comprehensive. Speculation had not
then entered the ranks, nor the pagan spirit of philosophy. There was
great unity of belief, and this centered around Christ as the Redeemer
and Saviour of the world. But, in process of time, Christianity was
forced to contend with Judaism, with Orientalism, and with Greek
speculation, as these entered into the church itself, and were more or
less embraced by its members. With downright Paganism there was a
constant battle; but in this battle all ranks of Christians were united
together. They were not distracted by any controversies whether idolatry
should be or should not be tolerated. But when Gnostic principles were
embraced by good men, those which, for instance, entered into monastic
or ascetic life, it was necessary that some great genius should arise
and expose their oriental origin, and lay down the Christian law
definitely on that point. So when Manichaeism, and Arianism, and other
heretical opinions, were defended and embraced by the Christians
themselves, the fathers who took the side of orthodoxy in the great
controversies which arose, rendered important services to all subsequent
generations, since never, probably, were those subtle questions
pertaining to the Trinity, and the human nature of Christ, and
predestination, and other kindred topics, discussed with so much acumen
and breadth. They occupied the thoughts of the whole age, and emperors
entered into the debates on theological questions with an interest
exceeding that of the worldly matters which claimed their peculiar
attention. It is not easy for Christians of this age, when all the great
doctrines of faith are settled, to appreciate the prodigious excitement
which their discussion called forth in the times of Athanasius and
Augustine. The whole intellect of the age was devoted to theological
inquiries. Everybody talked about them, and they were the common theme
on all public occasions. If discussions of subjects which once had such
universal fascination can never return again, if they are passed like
Olympic games, or the discussions of Athenian schools of philosophy, or
the sports of the Colosseum, or the oracles of Dodona, or the bulls of
mediaeval popes, or the contests of the tournament, or the "field of the
cloth of gold," they still have a historical charm, and point to the
great stepping-stones of human progress. If they are really grand and
important ideas, which they claimed to be, they will continue to move
the most distant generations. If they are merely dialectical deductions,
they are among the profoundest efforts of reason in the Christian
schools of philosophy.
We cannot, of course, enter into the controversies through which the
church elaborated the system of doctrines now generally received, nor
describe those great men who gave such dignity to theological inquiries.
Clement was raised up to combat the Gnostics, Athanasius to head off the
alarming spread of Arianism, and Augustine to proclaim the efficacy of
divine grace against the Pelagians. The treatises of these men and of
other great lights on the Trinity, on the incarnation, and on original
sin, had as great an influence on the thinking of the age and of
succeeding ages, as the speculations of Plato, or the syllogisms of
Thomas Aquinas, or the theories of Kepler, or the expositions of Bacon,
or the deductions of Newton, or the dissertations of Burke, or the
severe irony of Pascal. They did not create revolutions, since they did
not labor to overturn, but they stimulated the human faculties, and
conserved the most valued knowledge. Their definite opinions became the
standard of faith among the eastern Christians, and were handed down to
the Germanic barbarians. They were adopted by the Catholic church, and
preserved unity of belief in ages of turbulence and superstition. One of
the great recognized causes of modern civilization was the establishment
of universities. In these the great questions which the fathers started
and elaborated were discussed with renewed acumen. Had there been no
Origen, or Tertullian, or Augustine, there would have been no Anselm, or
Abelard, or Erigena. The speculations and inquiries of the Alexandrian
divines controlled the thinking of Europe for one thousand years, and
gave that intensely theological character to the literature of the
Middle Ages, directing the genius of Dante as well as that of Bernard.
Their influence on Calvin was as marked as on Bossuet. Pagan philosophy
had no charm like the great verities of the Christian faith. Augustine
and Athanasius threw Plato and Aristotle into the shade. Nothing more
preeminently marked the great divines whom the Reformation produced,
than the discussion of the questions which the fathers had systematized
and taught. Nor was the interest confined to divines. Louis XIV.
discussed free will and predestination with Racine and Fenelon, even as
the courtiers of Louis XV. discussed probabilities and mental
reservations. And in New England, at Puritan firesides, the passing
stranger in the olden times, when religion was a life, entered into
theological discussions with as much zest as he now would describe the
fluctuations of stocks or passing vanities of crinoline and hair dyes.
Nor is it one of the best signs of this material age that the interest
in the great questions which tasked the intellects of our fathers is
passing away. But there is a mighty permanence in great ideas, and the
time, we trust, will come again when indestructible certitudes will
receive more attention than either politics or fashions.
The influence of the fathers is equally seen in the music and poetry
which have come down from their times. The church succeeded to an
inheritance of religious lyrics unrivaled in the history of literature.
The _Magnificat_ and the _Nunc dimittis_ were sung from the
earliest Christian ages. The streets of the eastern cities echoed to the
seductive strains of Arius and Chrysostom. Flavian and Diodorus
introduced at Antioch the antiphonal chant, which, improved by Ambrose,
and still more by Gregory, became the joy of blessed saints in those
turbulent ages, when singing in the choir was the amusement as well as
the duty of a large portion of religious people. So numerous were the
hymns of Ambrose, Hilary, Augustine, and others, that they became the
popular literature of centuries, and still form the most beautiful part
of the service of the Catholic church. Who can estimate the influence of
hymns which have been sung for fifty successive generations? What a
charm is still attached to the mediaeval chants! The poetry of the early
church is preserved in those sacred anthems. They inspired the
barbarians with enthusiasm, even as they had kindled the rapture of
earlier Christians in the church of Milan. The lyrical poets are
immortal, and exert a wide-spread influence. The fervent stanzas of
Watts, of Steele, of Wesley, of Heber, are sung from generation to
generation. The hymns of Luther are among the most valued of his various
works. "From Greenland's icy mountains"--that sacred lyric--shall live
as long as the "Elegy in a Country Church-yard," or the "Cotter's
Saturday Night," yea, shall survive the "Night Thoughts," and the
"Course of Time." There is nothing in Grecian or Roman poetry that fills
the place of the psalmody of the early church. The songs of Ambrose were
his richest legacy to triumphant barbarians, consoling the monk in his
dreary cell and the peasant on his vine-clad hills, speaking the
sentiment of a universal creed, and consecrating the most tender
recollections. So that Christian literature, in its varied aspects, its
exegesis, its sermons, its creeds, and its psalmody, if not equal in
artistic merit to the classical productions of antiquity, have had an
immeasurable influence on human thought and life, not in the Roman world
merely, but in all subsequent ages.
But the great truths which the fathers proclaimed in reference to the
moral and social relations of society are still more remarkable in their
subsequent influence.
The great idea of Christian equality struck at the root of that great
system of slavery which was one of the main causes of the ruin of the
empire. Christianity did not break up slavery; it might never have
annihilated it under a Roman rule, but it protested against it so soon
as it was clothed with secular power. As in the sight of heaven there is
no distinction of persons, so the idea of social equality gained ground
as the relations of Christianity to practical life were understood. The
abolition of slavery, and the general amelioration of the other social
evils of life, are all a logical sequence from the doctrine of Christian
equality,--that God made of one blood all the nations of the earth, that
they are equally precious in his sight, and have equal claims to the
happiness of heaven. All theories of human rights radiate from, and
centre around, this consoling doctrine. That we are born free and equal
may not, practically, be strictly true; but that the relations of
society ought to be viewed as they are regarded in the Scriptures, which
reveal the dignity of the soul and its glorious destinies, cannot be
questioned; so that oppression of man by man, and injustice, and unequal
laws militate with one of the great fundamental revelations of God.
Impress Christian equality on the mind of man, and social equality
follows as a matter of course. The slave was recognized to be a man, a
person, and not a thing. Whenever he sat down, as he did once a week,
beside his master, in the adoration of a common Lord, the ignominy of
his hard condition was removed, even if his obligations to obedience
were not abrogated. As a future citizen of heaven, his importance on the
earth was more and more recognized, until his fetters were gradually
removed.
From the day when Christian equality was declared, the foundations of
slavery were assailed, and the progress of freedom has kept pace with
Christian civilization, although the Apostles did not directly denounce
the bondage that disgraced the ancient world. It was something to
declare the principles which, logically carried out, would ultimately
subvert the evil, for no evil can stand forever which is in opposition
to logical deductions from the truths of Christianity. Moral philosophy
is as much a series of logical deductions from the doctrine of loving
our neighbor as ourself as that great network of theological systems
which Augustine and Calvin elaborated from the majesty and sovereignty
of God. Those distinctions which Christ removed by his Gospel of
universal brotherhood can never return or coexist with the progress of
the truth. A vast social revolution began when the eternal destinies of
the slave were announced. It will not end with the mere annihilation of
slavery as an institution; it will affect the relations of the poor and
the rich, the unlucky and the prosperous, in every Christian country
until justice and love become dominant principles. What a stride from
Roman slavery to mediaeval serfdom! How benignant the attitude of the
church, in all ages, to the poor man! The son of a peasant becomes a
priest, and rises, in the Christian hierarchy, to become a ruler of the
world. There was no way for a poor peasant boy to rise in the Middle
Ages, except in the church. He attracts the notice of some beneficent
monk; he is educated in the cloister; he becomes a venerated brother, an
abbot, perhaps a bishop or a pope. Had he remained in service to a
feudal lord, he never could have risen above his original rank. The
church raises him from slavery, and puts upon his brow her seal and in
his hands the thunderbolts of spiritual power, thus giving him dignity
and consideration and independence. Rising, as the clergy did in the
Middle Ages, in all ages, from the lower and middle classes, they became
as much opposed to slavery as they were to war. It was thus in the bosom
of the church that liberty was sheltered and nourished. Nor has the
church ever forgotten her mission to the poor, or sympathized, as a
whole, with the usurpations of kings. She may have aimed at dominion,
like Hildebrand and Innocent III., but it was spiritual domination,
control of the mind of the world. But she ever sympathized with
oppressed classes, like Becket, even as he defied the temporal weapons
of Henry II. The Jesuits, even, respected the dignity of the poor. Their
errors were trust in machinery and unbounded ambition, but they labored
in their best ages for the good of the people. And in our times, the
most consistent and uncompromising foes of despotism and slavery are in
the ranks of the church. The clergy have been made, it is true,
occasionally, the tools of despotism, and have been absurdly
conservative of their own privileges, but on the whole, have ever lifted
up their voices in defense of those who are ground down.
The elevation of woman, too, has been caused by the doctrine of the
equality of the sexes which Christianity revealed; not "woman's rights"
as interpreted by infidels; not the ignoring of woman's destiny of
subservience to man, as declared in the Garden of Eden and by St. Paul,
but her glorious nature which fits her for the companionship of man.
Heathendom reduces her to slavery, dependence, and vanity. Christianity
elevates her by developing her social and moral excellences, her more
delicate nature, her elevation of soul, her sympathy with sorrow, her
tender and gracious aid. The elevation of woman did not come from the
natural traits of Germanic barbarians, but from Christianity. Chivalry
owes its bewitching graces to the influence of Christian ideas. Clemency
and magnanimity, gentleness and sympathy, did not spring from German
forests, but the teachings of the clergy. Veneration for woman was the
work of the church, not of pagan civilization or Teutonic simplicity.
The equality of the sexes was acknowledged by Jerome when he devoted
himself to the education of Roman matrons, and received from the hand of
Paula the means of support while he, labored in his cell at Bethlehem.
How much more influential was Fabiola or Marcella than Aspasia or
Phryne! It was woman who converted barbaric kings, and reigned, not by
personal charms, like Eastern beauties, but by the solid virtues of the
heart. Woman never occupied so proud a position in an ancient palace as
in a feudal castle. When Paula visited the East, she was welcomed by
Christian bishops, and the proconsul of Palestine surrendered his own
palace for her reception, not because she was high in rank, but because
her virtues had gone forth to all the world; and when she died, a great
number of the most noted people followed her body to the grave with
sighs and sobs. The sufferings of the female martyrs are the most
pathetic exhibitions of moral greatness in the history of the early
church. And in the Middle Ages, whatever is most truly glorious or
beautiful can be traced to the agency of woman. Is a town to be spared
for a revolt, or a grievous tax remitted, it is a Godiva who intercedes
and prevails. Is an imperious priest to be opposed, it is an Ethelgiva
who alone dares to confront him even in the king's palace. It is
Ethelburga, not Ina, who reigns among the Saxons--not because the king
is weak, but his wife is wiser than he. A mere peasant-girl, inspired
with the sentiment of patriotism, delivers a whole nation, dejected and
disheartened, for such was Joan of Arc. Bertha, the slighted wife of
Henry, crosses the Alps in the dead of winter, with her excommunicated
lord, to remove the curse which deprived him of the allegiance of his
subjects. Anne, Countess of Warwick, dresses herself like a cook-maid to
elude the visits of a royal duke, and Ebba, abbess of Coldingham, cuts
off her nose, to render herself unattractive to the soldiers who ravage
her lands. Philippa, the wife of the great Edward, intercedes for the
inhabitants of Calais, and the town is spared.
The feudal woman gained respect and veneration because she had the moral
qualities which Christianity developed. If she entered with eagerness
into the pleasures of the chase or the honor of the banquet, if she
listened with enthusiasm to the minstrel's lay and the crusader's tale,
her real glory was her purity of character and unsullied fame. In
ancient Rome men were driven to the circus and the theatre for amusement
and for solace, but among the Teutonic races, when converted to
Christianity, rough warriors associated with woman without seductive
pleasures to disarm her. It was not riches, nor elegance of manners, nor
luxurious habits, nor exemption from stern and laborious duties which
gave fascination to the Christian woman of the Middle Ages. It was her
sympathy, her fidelity, her courage, her simplicity, her virtues, her
noble self-respect, which made her a helpmeet and a guide. She was
always found to intercede for the unfortunate, and willing to endure
suffering. She bound up the wounds of prisoners, and never turned the
hungry from her door. And then how lofty and beautiful her religious
life. History points with pride to the religious transports and
spiritual elevation of Catharine of Sienna, of Margaret of Anjou, of
Gertrude of Saxony, of Theresa of Spain, of Elizabeth of Hungary, of
Isabel of France, of Edith of England. How consecrated were the labors
of woman amid feudal strife and violence. Whence could have arisen such
a general worship of the Virgin Mary had not her beatific loveliness
been reflected in the lives of the women whom Christianity had elevated?
In the French language she was worshiped under the feudal title of Notre
Dame, and chivalrous devotion to the female sex culminated in the
reverence which belongs to the Queen of Heaven. And hence the qualities
ascribed to her, of Virgo Fidelis, Mater Castissima, Consolatrix
Afflictorum, were those to which all lofty women were exhorted to
aspire. The elevation of woman kept pace with the extension of
Christianity. Veneration for her did not arise until she showed the
virtues of a Monica and a Nonna, but these virtues were the fruit of
Christian ideas alone.
We might mention other ideas which have entered into our modern
institutions, such as pertain to education, philanthropy, and missionary
zeal. The idea of the church itself, of an esoteric band of Christians
amid the temptations of the world, bound together by rules of discipline
as well as communion of soul, is full of grandeur and beauty. And the
unity of this church is a sublime conception, on which the whole
spiritual power of the popes rested when they attempted to rule in peace
and on the principles of eternal love. However perverted the idea of the
unity of the church became in the Middle Ages, still who can deny that
it was the mission of the church to create a spiritual power based on
the hopes and fears of a future life? The idea of a theocracy forms a
prominent part of the polity of Calvin, as of Hildebrand himself. It is
the basis of his legislation. He maintained it was long concealed in the
bosom of the primitive church, and was gradually unfolded, though in a
corrupt form, by the popes, the worthiest of whom kept the idea of a
divine government continually in view, and pursued it with a clear
knowledge of its consequences. And those familiar with the lofty schemes
of Leo and Gregory, will appreciate their efforts in raising up a power
which should be supreme in barbarous ages, and preserve what was most to
be valued of the old civilization. The autocrat of Geneva clung to the
necessity of a spiritual religion, and aimed to realize that which the
Middle Ages sought, and sought in vain, that the church must always
remain the mother of spiritual principles, while the state should be the
arm by which those principles should be enforced. Like Hildebrand, he
would, if possible, have hurled the terrible weapon of excommunication.
In cutting men off from the fold, he would also have cut them off from
the higher privileges of society. He may have carried his views too far,
but they were founded on the idea of a church against which the gates of
hell could not prevail. Who can estimate the immeasurable influence of
such an idea, which, however perverted, will ever be recognized as one
of the great agencies of the world? A church without a spiritual power,
is inconceivable; nor can it pass away, even before the material
tendencies of a proud and rationalistic civilization. It will assert its
dignity when thrones and principalities shall crumble in the dust.
Such are among the chief ideas which the fathers taught, and which have
entered even into the modern institutions of society, and form the
peculiar glory of our civilization. When we remember this, we feel that
the church has performed no mean mission, even if it did not save the
Roman empire. The glory of warriors, of statesmen, of artists, of
philosophers, of legislators, and of men of science and literature in
the ancient world, still shines, and no one would dim it, or hide it
from the admiration of mankind. But the purer effulgence of the great
lights of the church eclipses it all, and will shine brighter and
brighter, until the seed of the woman shall bruise the serpent's head.
This is the true sun which shall dissipate the shadows of superstition
and ignorance that cover so great a portion of the earth, and this shall
bring society into a healthful glow of unity and love.
* * * * *
In another volume I shall present, more in detail, the labors of the
Christian Fathers in founding the new civilization which still reigns
among the nations. And in the creation which succeeded destruction we
shall be additionally impressed with the wisdom and beneficence of the
Great First Cause, through whose providences our fallen race is led to
the new Eden, where truth and justice and love reign in perpetual beauty
and glory.
THE END.
[Transcriber's Note: The spellings "panygeric," "beauitful," and
"sytematically" occurred as such on lines 2285, 2473, and 10763,
respectively, and were corrected.]