The moral condition of man was peculiar. To a great extent the religious
systems of the Old World had been analyzed by the intelligent; they no
longer gave confidence to the mind. The sanctity of the temples was
dissipated by the mere speculations of philosophy, and the gods of
idolatry tottered on their pedestals.
The nations of the earth were brought in subjection, in slavery, to the
feet of imperial Rome; and their gods, being presented face to face,
lost their divinity by the rivalship of men.
Such was the condition of the moral world when Christianity was
introduced to mankind.
The old religions pretended to give safety by bargain of sacrifice, by
penance, and payment, but the religion of Jesus Christ taught that
salvation and safety were the free gift of God.
The history of man proves the fact that he has ever been disposed to
purchase happiness on earth and felicity in heaven by his own acts, or
by the merit of his condition; and hence, we always find that a
corrupted Christianity for ever borders on the confines of idolatry. Nor
is it difficult to show how this easily runs into all the wild
extravagancies of human reason, or, rather, human ignorance; while the
simplicity of truth tends to a calm submission, and a desire of
obedience to the will and laws of the only true God. The one was the
religion of the government of men, of show, of political power, and
expediency; the other is of heaven, of truth. “My kingdom is not of this
world.”
The barbarians of northern Europe and western Asia, while yet only
illumined by some faint rays of the Christian light, feeling from habit
the want of the external pomp and the governing control of a religious
power, in a half-savage, half-heathen state of mind, were disposed to
prostrate themselves at the feet of the chief priest of Rome.
In the year 312, under the pontificate of Melchiades, (by the Greeks
called Miltiades,) the Emperor Constantine established the Christian
church by law. Thus sustained, it became at once the pool in which
ambition and crime sought to cleanse their robes. Yet, beneath its
waters were priceless pearls. Torn by schism, sometimes by temporal
misrule, the church languished,—but lived. For several centuries the
future became a mere variation of the past. The ways of God are indeed
inscrutable. A flaming meteor in the east now agitated the mind. Like
the insects of twilight, thousands marshalled under the crescent light
of the prophet. The disciples of Mohammed swept from the earth the
churches at Antioch and Alexandria, suddenly made inroads on Europe,
conquered Spain, and were in step to overleap the Pyrenees and Alps. Let
us step aside, and reconnoitre their host!
The object of the Arabian, Saracen, and Moorish warriors was the
propagation of their creed. The alternative was proposed to all,—its
embrace, or tribute; if rejected, the chance of war. Persia and Syria
were quickly subdued. Egypt and Cyprus gave way, A.D. 645. The slave of
Jews or Christians seldom rejected freedom in favour of the cross; if
so, he was reduced to the level of the vilest brute. The free were
either put to death, or, as a great favour, permitted to be slaves. Thus
the Christian master and slave were often in a reversed condition under
Mohammedan rule. Sicily and the whole northern Africa substituted the
crescent for the Cross; and in quick succession Spain was invaded and
the throne of Roderick overturned. Toledo yielded to Mousa; and Fleury,
lib. xli. part 25, says—“He put the chief men to death, and subjugated
all Spain, as far as Saragossa, which he found open. He burned the
towns, he had the most powerful citizens crucified, he cut the throats
of children and infants, and spread terror on every side.”
Italy was in consternation; the church trembled, and Constantinople was
threatened. Crossing the Pyrenees, A.D. 719, they poured down upon
France, met Charles, the father of Pepin, and Eude of Aquitaine, who
slew Zama, and compelled his troops to raise the siege of Toulouse; but,
recovering confidence, their incursions were frequent and bloody; and
the historians of that day announce that, upon one occasion alone, they
lost 370,000 men upon the fields of France. But these reverses were the
bow of hope to the Peninsula. Alphonsus struck a blow, and in one day
retook many towns and released from bondage ten thousand Christian
slaves. These exertions were continued with intermitted success; and,
like the retiring thunder of the retreating storm, the rage of battle
became less terrific and at more distant periods; but the standard of
Islam still continued to affrighten the world, alternately flaming its
red glare over the Peninsula to the mountains of France and the plains
of Italy, and until embattled Europe, excited to Croisade, dispelled its
power on the banks of the Jordan.
But, let us return. Aistulphus appears amid this flame of war. His
Lombards threaten extermination, and brandish the sword at the very
gates of Rome. Pepin had now usurped the throne of the Franks. He
demanded the confirmation of the church; and, in return, promised
protection to the “Republic of God.” Rome saw the prospect of her ruin,
with searching eyes looked for aid, and confirmed Pepin in his secular
power; who, in gratitude, drove for a time the Lombards from Italy, and
deposited the keys of the conquered cities on the altar of Saint Peter.
The Roman emperors had now long since removed their court to
Constantinople. Their power over western Europe vacillated with the
strife of the times. Charlemagne now appears kissing the steps of the
throne of the church. Again he appears, master of all the nations
composing the Western Empire, and of Rome; and, on Christmas-day, in the
year 800, Leo III. placed the crown of the Roman emperors on the head of
the son of Pepin. But, as yet, the act of crowning by the pope was a
mere form.
Fifty years had scarcely sunk in the past, when the Emperor Basilius
expelled Photius from the patriarchal see of his capital. He was charged
with having been the tool of the Emperor Michael. He claimed supremacy
over the pope of Rome. Hadrian had now ascended the papal chair, 867.
Jealous of the bold spirit of Photius, his excommunication was recorded,
and Ignatius installed in his see.
But the Greeks and Bulgarians, jealous for their native priesthood,
demanded by what authority the see of Rome claimed jurisdiction over the
Old and New Epirus, Thessaly, and Dardania, the country now called
Bulgaria. For more than four centuries there had been occasional
jealousies between these two churches; certain articles of faith
continued subjects of difference; and the questions of temporal and
spiritual precedence made them ever watchful. History records that, as
early as 606, Phocas, having ascended the imperial throne, treading upon
the dead bodies of the Emperor Mauritius, his children and
friends,—Cyriacus, the patriarch, exposed to his view the enormity of
his crimes, and most zealously exhorted to repentance. The supremacy of
order and dignity was instantly granted to the patriarch of Rome, in the
person of Boniface III. But his successors, their historians say, wisely
refused, disclaimed the favour of Phocas, but claimed it as a Divine
right derived from St. Peter. Thus commenced and was made final the
severance of the Greek and Roman churches.
But the loss of spiritual rule in the east was accompanied by an
enlargement of temporal power in the west. Upon the death of Hadrian,
John, the son of Gundo, succeeded to the papal chair; and, upon the
demise of Lewis II., (876,) his uncles, Lewis, king of Germany, and
Charles the Bald, king of France, were rivals for the vacant throne.
Charles and Hadrian were ever at variance. But, seizing upon the moment,
because he was more ready at hand, or more yielding to his wishes, John
invoked him instantly at Rome, received him with loudest acclamations,
and crowned him emperor, just seventy-five years to a day from the
elevation of Charlemagne to the Western Empire.
Upon this occasion, Pope John announced that he had elected him emperor
in conformity to the revealed will of God; that his act of crowning him
made him such; and that the sceptre, under God, was his free gift. This
new doctrine was assented to by Charles, and ever after claimed as one
of the powers of the pope of Rome. Thus the church of Rome became wholly
separated from the Eastern Empire,—“freely losing its hold on a decayed
tree, to graft itself upon a wild and vigorous sapling.” _D'Aubigne._
Eutropius, the Lombard, informs us of the rich presents made to St.
Peter for these favours of the pope, and that the emperor ceded to him
the dukedoms, Benevento and Spoleti, together with the sovereignty of
Rome itself.
Thus we have seen why and how the brawny shoulders of the idolatrous
children of the north elevated to the throne, thus how the Franks
established the temporal power, of the popes of Rome; yet, perhaps,
little was foreseen how this state of things was destined, in the course
of events, to elevate the church of Rome, and the power of its pontiffs,
to a supremacy of all temporal government. It could not have been
foreseen how the genius of Hildebrand (Pope Gregory VII.) should, two
hundred years after, carry into full accomplishment, by mere words of
peace, “what Marius and Cæsar could not by torrents of blood.”
But corruption, to a greater or less extent, necessarily followed such a
connection of church and state. It matters not to whom, nor in what
age,—give churches temporal power, and they are _liable_ to be corrupt.
But the church was still a fountain from which the living waters were
dispensed to mankind. Instances of personal wickedness may have been
more or less common; yet the spirit of truth found it a focal residence,
and diffused its light to the world.
The Christian church is not the contrivance of man, whose works pass
away, but of God, who upholds what he creates, and who has given his
promise for its duration. Its object is to satisfy the religious wants
of human nature, in whatever degree that nature may be developed; and
its efficacy is no greater for the learned than for the unlearned; for
the exalted of the earth, than for the slave.
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