CENTURIES OF WAR AND WOE.
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.
THE 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 rich caravan, which greatly elated and enriched
his followers, and extended his fame. At length, he encountered
governmental resistance. His little army was utterly routed; and
Mohammed fled, wounded and bleeding, from the field. Though the repulse
seemed for a short time to shake the faith of his followers, he soon
rallied them by the assurance that it was in consequence of their
sins that God had given them this transient reverse, but that God had
promised that all who were slain in his battles should be immediately
translated to a paradise of exquisite and eternal bliss.
Crowds flocked to his camp. New battles were fought, and victories won.
His disciples became rich and exultant. His religion, consisting mainly
of outward forms, was as easy of practice as any part of the military
drill. He was soon at the head of ten thousand soldiers inspired with
all the ferocity which religious fanaticism could engender. The number
rapidly increased to thirty thousand. No power could be brought into
the field to resist him. Nearly all Arabia, ignorant, religionless, and
greedy of plunder, enlisted under a banner which brought its followers
fame, adventure, and wealth. It is no longer to be wondered at that
Mohammed by these means eventually found himself at the head of a
hundred and fifty thousand of the fiercest warriors earth had ever
known. To the pagans, one religion was as good as another. To exchange
religions was like exchanging garments. It was comparatively easy to
make proselytes among a barbarian people who had no settled convictions
of truth, and to whom there could be offered the most attractive of
temporal as well as eternal rewards.
Gibbon gives the following account of the personal appearance and
intellectual endowments of this wonderful man:――
“According to the traditions of his companions, Mohammed was
distinguished by the beauty of his person. Before he spoke, the orator
engaged on his side the affections of a public or a private audience:
they applauded his commanding presence, his majestic aspect, his
piercing eye, his gracious smile, his flowing beard, his countenance
that painted every sensation of the soul, and his gestures that
enforced each expression of the tongue.
“In the familiar offices of life, he scrupulously adhered to the
grave and ceremonious politeness of his country. His respectful
attention to the rich and powerful was dignified by his condescension
and affability to the poorest citizens of Mecca. The frankness of
his manners concealed the artifice of his views; and the habits of
courtesy were imputed to personal friendship or universal benevolence.
His memory was capacious and retentive, his wit easy and social, his
imagination sublime, his judgment clear, rapid, and decisive.
“He possessed the courage both of thought and action; and, although
his designs might gradually expand with his success, the first idea
he entertained of his divine mission bears the stamp of an original
and superior genius. The son of Abdallah was educated in the bosom of
the noblest race, in the use of the purest dialect; and the fluency of
his speech was corrected and enhanced by the practice of discreet and
seasonable silence. With these powers of eloquence, Mohammed was an
illiterate barbarian. His youth had never been instructed in the arts
of reading and writing. The common ignorance exempted him from shame
and reproach; but he was reduced to a narrow circle of existence, and
deprived of those faithful mirrors which reflect to our mind the minds
of sages and heroes.”
Mohammed, like Emanuel Swedenborg, accepted both the Old and New
Testament as of divine origin. He professed the most profound respect
for both Moses and Jesus Christ as prophets sent from God. “Verily
Christ Jesus,” writes Mohammed, “the son of Mary, is the Apostle of God,
and his Word, which he conveyed unto Mary, and a Spirit proceeding from
him, honorable in this world and in the world to come, and one of those
who approach near to the presence of God.”[198]
Our Saviour had promised, that, after his departure from this world,
he would send the Paraclete, or Holy Ghost, as a guide and comforter to
his disciples. “But when the Comforter is come, whom I will send unto
you from the Father, the Spirit of truth, which proceedeth from the
Father, he shall testify of me.”[199] Mohammed assumed that he was this
divinely-commissioned Comforter. The Koran was produced in fragments
to meet emergencies; and it was not until two years after the death
of Mohammed that these fragments were collected in a single volume.
This Koran is one of the most stupid of books, full of incoherent
rhapsody and turgid declamation, from which it is difficult to extract
a sentiment or an idea. Very few men in Christendom have found patience
to read it.
Mohammed at first imposed upon his disciples the daily obligation of
fifty prayers. Finding this too onerous to be borne, he diminished
the number to five, which were to be performed daily, regardless of
any engagements or any surroundings. These seasons of prayer were at
daybreak, at noon, in the middle of the afternoon, in the evening, and
at the first watch of the night. His precepts of morality were drawn
from the Old and New Testaments. Friday was appointed as the Mohammedan
sabbath, and vigorous fasts were enforced. All intoxicating drinks
were positively interdicted. The Mussulman was enjoined to consecrate
one-tenth of his income to charitable purposes. The doctrines of the
resurrection and the final judgment were maintained.
“The sword,” says Mohammed, “is the key of heaven and of hell. A drop
of blood shed in the cause of God, or a night spent in arms, is of more
avail than two months of fasting or prayer. Whoever falls in battle,
his sins are forgiven. At the day of judgment his wounds shall be
resplendent as vermilion, and odoriferous as musk; and the loss of his
limbs shall be supplied with the wings of angels and cherubim.”
This remarkable man died on the 7th of June, 632. His character was
by no means blameless when judged by the standard of Christianity.
Whenever he wished to indulge in any crime, he could easily find a
fresh revelation authorizing him to do so. Major Price, after the most
careful examination of documentary evidence, speaks as follows of his
death:――
“In tracing the circumstances of Mohammed’s sickness, we look in
vain for any proofs of that meek and heroic firmness which might be
expected to dignify and embellish the last moments of the apostle of
God. On some occasions he betrayed such want of fortitude, such marks
of childish impatience, as are in general to be found in men only of
the most ordinary stamp; and such as extorted from his wife Ayesha,
in particular, the sarcastic remark, that, in herself or any of her
family, a similar demeanor would long since have incurred his severe
displeasure. He said that the acuteness and violence of his sufferings
were necessarily in the proportion of those honors with which it had
ever pleased the hand of Omnipotence to distinguish its peculiar
favorites.”[200]
Immediately after the death of Mohammed, his disciples pushed their
conquests with amazing energy. In the course of a few centuries,
they overran all of Egypt and of Asia Minor, and established the most
stern and unrelenting despotism earth has ever known. Their military
organization and prowess were such, that they could bring into the
field a more powerful army than any other nation.
They crossed the Bosphorus into Europe, and stormed Christian
Constantinople with six hundred vessels of war and an army of
three hundred thousand troops. Sixty thousand of the inhabitants of
Constantinople were massacred in cold blood. The Christian maidens were
dragged shrieking into the Moslem harems. The boys of tender age were
compelled, under the blows of the scourge and of the cimeter, to adopt
the religion of the Prophet, and to enlist under his banner. Thus the
whole Eastern or Greek empire was soon blotted out. The crescent of
Mohammed supplanted the cross of Christ over all the towers of the
imperial city. The head of the Christian was crushed by the heel of
the Turk.
The conqueror, assuming the title of Mohammed II., prepared to invade
Italy. It was his boast that he would feed his horse from the altar of
St. Peter’s, in Rome. He crossed the Adriatic, took Otranto, and was
in the onward career of victory, with every prospect of annexing Italy
to the Mohammedan empire, when he died. There was then a short respite
for imperilled Christendom. But soon the flood of Mohammedan invasion
rolled up the Danube in surges of flame and blood. Year after year, and
generation after generation, the valley of this majestic stream was but
a constant battle-field, where Christian and Moslem grappled each other
in the death-struggle.
One of these marches up the Danube is worthy of more minute record.
It was leafy June: luxuriant foliage and gorgeous flowers decorated
the banks of the river with loveliness which attracted the admiration
even of semi-barbarian eyes. The turbulent host, counting within its
ranks two hundred and fifty thousand veteran warriors, for many days
sauntered joyously along, encountering no foe. War seemed but the
pastime of a festival-day. Banners floated gayly in the breeze; music
enlivened the march. Arabian chargers pranced proudly beneath their
riders, glittering in Oriental gorgeousness of costume. A fleet of
gayly-decorated barges filled the stream, impelled by sails when the
wind favored, and urged by rowers when the winds were adverse.
Each night, upon some smooth expanse of the river’s banks, the white
tents of the invaders were spread, and a city of nearly two hundred
thousand inhabitants rose as by magic, with its grassy streets and
squares, its busy population, its trumpet-peals from martial bands,
and its bannered magnificence blazing in all the regalia of war. Like
a fairy vision the city rose in the rays of the declining sun; and
like a vision it disappeared in the early dawn of the morning, and the
mighty host moved on.
But the black day came. The Turks had ascended the river about a
hundred and fifty miles, when they came to a small island called Zigeth.
It was strongly fortified, and commanded both banks of the stream. Not
another mile could the Moslems advance till this fortress was battered
down. Zrini, the heroic Christian commander, and his whole garrison of
six thousand men, took an oath that they would surrender the post only
with their lives.
Day and night, week after week, the assault continued unintermitted.
The besieged, with guns in battery to sweep all approaches, mowed down
their assailants with awful carnage; but bastion after bastion was
crumbled by the tremendous cannonade of the Moslems: the walls of solid
masonry were battered down till they presented but a shapeless pile of
rocks. The Turks, reckless of life, like swarming bees swept over the
smouldering ruins. They had apparently cut down every inmate of the
fort; and, with shouts of victory, were raising the crescent over the
blackened and blood-stained rocks, when there was an earthquake roar,
and an explosion almost as appalling as the thunders of the archangel’s
trump.
Zrini had fired the subterranean vaults containing thousands of kegs
of powder. The whole citadel――men, horses, rocks, and artillery――was
thrown into the air, and fell a commingled mass of ruin, fire, and
blood. The Turks, having lost their leader and a large part of their
army, retreated, exhausted and bleeding, but only to gather strength
to renew the strife.
Thus year after year these Moslem assaults were continued. Such were
the measures the Turks used to convert Europe to Mohammedanism; such
were the persuasions urged by the missionaries of the Koran. Shortly
after this, the banners of the advance-guard of the Turkish army were
seen even from the steeples of Vienna: the majestic host invested the
city on all sides.
The renowned John Zobieski, King of Poland, came to the rescue with
sixty thousand men. Uniting with the German troops, the combined army
fell upon the invaders with almost frenzied courage, utterly routed
them, and drove them in wild disorder back to Belgrade. Still, through
years of blood and woe, these Moslem assaults were continued. The
conquering armies of the Prophet took all of Asia, Egypt, Africa, and
Greece. They crossed the Straits of Gibraltar from Africa into Spain,
overran the whole Spanish Peninsula, and hung like a black cloud upon
the northern cliffs of the Pyrenees, threatening the provinces of
France. They swept both banks of the Danube to the walls of Vienna. The
Austrian royal family fled at midnight. It seemed inevitable that all
Europe was to be overrun by the Moslems, and that all Christendom was
to be cut down beneath their bloody cimeters.
This conflict of Mohammedanism against Christianity continued for five
centuries. At one time, the Austrian ambassador at Constantinople wrote
to the Emperor Ferdinand in Vienna,――
“When I compare the power of the Turks with our own, the consideration
fills me with dismay. I see not how we can resist the destruction which
awaits us. They possess great wealth, strength unbroken, a perfect
knowledge of the arts of war, patience, union, order, frugality, and a
constant state of preparation.
“On our side are exhausted finances and universal luxury. Our
national spirit is broken by mutinous soldiers, mercenary officers,
licentiousness, intemperance, and a total contempt of military
discipline. Is it possible to doubt how such an unequal conflict must
terminate? The all-conquering Mussulmans will soon rush with undivided
strength, and overwhelm all Europe as well as Germany.”
Such was the career and the final menaces of Mohammedanism. But
the Church is safe: God interposed by his resistless providences.
Mohammedanism, everywhere on the wane, exists now only through the
toleration of the Christian powers: it is ere long to be buried in the
same grave in which the paganism of Greece and Rome lies mouldering
in the dust. One foe after another Satan has been marshalling against
Christianity; but ever, though sometimes after a strife truly terrific,
Christianity has come off the victor. Eighteen centuries have rolled
away since the death of Christ; but never was Christianity so vigorous
and efficient a power in the world as now.
Mohammed himself ever remembered the kindness he had received in the
Syrian convent. He left it as one of the injunctions of the Koran,――
“Respect all religious persons who live in hermitages or convents, and
spare their edifices; but, should you meet other unbelievers in the
Prophet, be sure you cleave their skulls unless they embrace the true
faith.”
The capture of Alexandria by the Mohammedans is one of the most
renowned events, and apparently one of the greatest calamities, of
past ages. The magnificent city, the capital of Egypt, possessed almost
fabulous wealth. It contained four thousand palaces, five thousand
baths, and four hundred theatres. Its library surpassed all others
in the world in the number and value of its manuscripts. The Moslem
general who had captured the city wrote to his superior at Bagdad,
inquiring what was to be done with the library. The bigot returned
the reply,――
“Either what those books contain is in the Koran, or it is not. If
their contents are in the Koran, the books are useless: if they are
not, the books are false and wicked. Burn them.”
The whole priceless treasure, containing the annals of many past
centuries, was committed to the flames. The irreparable loss
Christendom will ever mourn.
Nations are not born, and do not die, in a day. During several
centuries, Mohammedanism was rising to its zenith of power, until
it vied with ancient Rome in the extent of its territory, the
invincibility of its legions, and the enormity of its luxury and
corruption.
The seventh century was, perhaps, the darkest and the most hopeless, so
far as the prospects of humanity were concerned, of any since the birth
of Christ. When the eighth century dawned, several hundred years of
war, anarchy, and blood, had lingered away since the breaking-up of the
Roman empire. The people, weary of anarchy and crushed with woe, were
glad to make any surrender of personal liberty for the sake of security.
Females sought refuge in nunneries, and timid men in monasteries: bold
barons built their impregnable castles on the cliffs; and defenceless
peasants clustered around these massive fortresses of rock for
protection as the sheep gather around the watch-dog.
The baron, with his fierce retainers armed to the teeth, was ever
ready to do battle. The serf purchased a home and safety by toiling
with his wife and children, like cattle in the field, to support his
lord and his armed warriors. Thus feudalism was the child of necessity:
it was the natural outgrowth of barbarous times. The ruins of these old
feudal castles are scattered profusely over the hillsides and along the
romantic streams of Europe. As the tourist now glides in the steamer
over the water of the beautiful Rhine, where the “castled crag of
Drachenfels” frowns down upon the scene of solitude and beauty, and
sees
“On yon bold brow a lordly tower,
In that soft vale a lady’s bower,
In yonder meadow, far away,
The turrets of a cloister gray,”
creative imagination leaps back over the ages which are gone, repairs
the ruins, digs out the moat, suspends the portcullis, stores the
dungeon, and peoples the battlemented towers with armed defenders.
Again the winding of the bugle echoes over the hills and the valleys,
warning the serfs of approaching danger. We see the rush of the
frightened peasants in at the massive portals; we hear the clatter of
iron hoofs, the defiant challenge pealing from the trumpet: the eye
is dazzled with the vision of waving plumes and gilded banners as
steel-clad knights sweep by like a whirlwind.
Breathless we gaze, in fancy, upon the attack and the defence; listen
to the cry of onset, and to the resounding blows upon helmet and
cuirass. Heroic courage, chivalric adventure, invest the crumbling
stones with life. Such was life in this sad world ten centuries ago.
But, through all these tumults, the Church of Christ, with many
mingling imperfections, was rising to be the ruling power on earth.
In seasons of anarchy, the community is ever ready to cast itself for
protection into the arms of dictatorial power. The Church, imperilled,
felt its need of a dictator; and the Bishop of Rome, by almost
unanimous consent, became its recognized head. The Moslem empire had
swept over all the East, trampling Eastern Christians in the dust. The
few disciples of Jesus who in those regions were permitted to live were
exposed to the most humiliating oppressions and insults.
It was in the year 732 that Charles Martel met the Moslem host near
Tours, in France, to fight the battle which apparently was to decide
the fate of Europe. Christianity and Mohammedanism met on that field
in their greatest strength. The battle which ensued was one of the most
terrific which earth has ever known. Victory followed the banner of
the cross. The annalists of those days declare that over three hundred
thousand Moslems bit the dust upon that bloody field: the remnant, in a
series of desperate conflicts, were driven pell-mell over the Pyrenees,
across the whole breadth of Spain, and over the Straits of Gibraltar
into Africa.
As we traverse these weary years in their dull monotony of woe,
we occasionally come to some event over which we are constrained
to pause and ponder. Such an event was the rise of Charlemagne,
towards the close of the eighth century. His name has reverberated
through the corridors of history until the present day. By his genius,
and the power of his armies, he brought two-thirds of all Europe
under his sceptre. He created an empire almost rivalling that of the
Cæsars. Seated in his palace at Aix la Chapelle, he issued his orders,
which scores of nations obeyed. Dukes, princes, counts, became his
subordinate officers, whose powers were limited according to his will.
At the death of Charlemagne, near the close of the eighth century,
his empire broke to pieces in large fragments. Europe emerged from
the wreck, organized essentially as now. The overthrow of the ancient
Roman empire was like a mountain crumbling down into sand. The then
known world became but a vast arena for the conflict of petty barbarous
tribes, ever surging to and fro. The demolition of the empire of
Charlemagne was like the breaking-up of a majestic iceberg into
a number of huge islands, each floating imperially over the waves,
defying alike gales and billows. The spiritual empire of the Papacy had
kept pace with the secular empire of Charlemagne: indeed, the Bishop of
Rome swayed a sceptre before whose power even Charlemagne himself was
compelled to bow.
As a temporal ruler, Charlemagne had no rival in Europe. The
antechamber of this great European conqueror was filled with suppliant
kings. Though unlearned himself, he did all in his power to encourage
learning throughout his realms. He ordered every monastery to maintain
a school; he encouraged manufactures and agriculture; and with a strong
arm repressed violence, that all branches of industry might be secure
of a reward. It was during his reign that the first bell was cast by
the monk Tancho. The emperor was so much pleased with its sweet and
solemn tones, that he ordered it to be placed on his chapel as the call
to prayer. Hence the origin of church-bells.
Until nearly the ninth century, the Island of Great Britain was
essentially a barbaric land, filled with savage, warring tribes.
Each district had its petty clans of fierce warriors, arrayed against
each other. But again there bursts upon Europe one of those appalling
irruptions of barbarians from the North which seems so weird-like and
supernatural.
One day, Charlemagne with a friend was standing upon a cliff, looking
out upon the sea, when he saw quite a fleet of galleys passing by.
“They are traders, probably,” said his companion. “No,” replied
Charlemagne sadly: “they are Norman pirates. I know them. _I_ do not
fear them; but, when I am gone, they will ravage Europe.”
These were the fierce men who enslaved the Saxons of Britain, and
put brass collars around their necks. Descending from the islands of
the Baltic and the mainlands of Denmark and Norway in their war-ships,
infuriated by a fanatic faith which regarded mercy as sin, these
ferocious warriors, hardy as polar bears, and agile as wolves,
penetrated every bay, river, and creek, sweeping all opposition before
them. Devastation, carnage, and slavery followed in their train.
The monasteries had gradually degenerated into institutions of
indolence and sensuality. The Normans assailed the inmates of these
gloomy retreats with the most relentless cruelty. They surrounded with
their armed bands these cloistered walls, and, barring the monks within,
applied the torch, and danced and sang as the vast pile and all its
contents were wrapped in flames. They hated a religion which taught (to
them the absurd doctrine) that man was the brother of his fellow-man;
that the strong should protect, and not oppress, the weak; that
we should forgive our enemies, and treat kindly those who injure
us. Like incarnate fiends, they took special pleasure in putting to
death, through every form of torture, the teachers of a religion so
antagonistic to their depraved natures.
Such was the condition of the world at the commencement of the tenth
century. Joyless generations came and passed away, and life upon this
sin-stricken globe could have been only a burden. From this sketch,
necessarily exceedingly brief, it will be seen that man has ever been
the most bitter foe of his brother-man. Nearly all the woes of earth
are now, and ever have been, caused by sin. What an awful tragedy has
the history of this globe been!
Almost with anguish, the thoughtful and benevolent mind inquires, “Is
there to be no end to this? Is humanity forever to be plunged into the
abyss of crime and woe?”
It would seem that it must be manifest to every candid mind
that there can be no possible remedy but in the religion of Jesus
Christ. Love God, your Father; love man, your brother: these are the
fundamental principles of the gospel. Every one must admit that the
universal adoption of these principles would sweep away from earth
nearly all its sorrows. Sin and holiness in this world are struggling
for the supremacy: it is a fearful conflict. Every individual is on the
one side or the other. Some are more, and some are less zealous. But
there is no neutrality: he that is not for Christ is against him.
Is there not an influence coming down to us through these long
centuries of woe potent enough to induce each one to declare, “As for
me and my house, we will serve the Lord”? Accept the religion of Jesus;
live in accordance with its teachings: then you will do all in your
power to arrest the woes of humanity; and, when Death with his summons
shall come, he will present you a passport which will secure your
entrance at the golden gate which opens to the paradise of God.