Part 5 (1/2)
Germany received the inst.i.tution some time in the fifth century. The introduction of Christianity as well as of monasticism into the British Isles is shrouded in darkness. A few jewels of fact may be gathered from the legendary rubbish. It is probable that before the days of Benedict, Saint Patrick, independently of Rome, established monasteries in Ireland and preached the gospel there; and, without doubt, before the birth of Benedict of Nursia, there were monks and monasteries in Great Britain.
The monastery of Bangor is said to have been founded about 450 A.D.
It is probable that Christianity was introduced into Britain before the close of the second century, and that monasticism arose some time in the fifth century. Tertullian, about the beginning of the third century, boasts that Christianity had conquered places in Britain where the Roman arms could not penetrate. Origen claimed that the power of the Savior was manifest in Britain as well as in Muritania. The earliest notice we have of a British church occurs in the writings of the Venerable Bede (673-735 A.D.), a monk whose numerous and valuable works on English history ent.i.tle him to the praise of being ”the greatest literary benefactor this or any other nation has produced.” He informs us that a British king--Lucius--embraced Christianity during the reign of the Emperor Aurelius, and that missionaries were sent from Rome to Britain about that time. Lingard says the story is suspicious, since ”we know not from what source Bede, at the distance of five centuries, derived his information.” It seems quite likely that there must have been some Christians among the Roman soldiers or civil officials who lived in Britain during the Roman occupation of the country. The whole problem has been the theme of so much controversy, however, that a fuller discussion is reserved for the next chapter.
_Disorders and Oppositions_
But was there no protest against the progress of these ascetic teachings? Did the monastic inst.i.tution command the unanimous approval of the church from the outset? There were many and strong outcries against the monks, but they were quickly silenced by the counter-shouts of praise. Even when rebellion against the system seemed formidable, it was popular nevertheless. The lifted hand was quickly struck down, and voices of opposition suddenly hushed. Like a mighty flood the movement swept on,--kings, when so inclined, being powerless to stop it. As Paula was carried fainting from the funeral procession of Blaesilla, her daughter, whispers such as these were audible in the crowd: ”Is not this what we have often said? She weeps for her daughter, killed with fasting. How long must we refrain from driving these detestable monks out of Rome? Why do we not stone them or hurl them into the Tiber? They have misled this unhappy mother; that she is not a nun from choice is clear. No heathen mother ever wept for her children as she does for Blaesilla.” And this is Paula, who, choked with grief, refused to weep when she sailed from her children for the far East!
Unhappily, history is often too dignified to retail the conversations of the dinner-table and the gossip of private life. But this narrative indicates that in many a Roman family the monk was feared, despised and hated. Sometimes everyday murmurs found their way into literature and so pa.s.sed to posterity. Rutilius, the Pagan poet, as he sails before a hermit isle in the Mediterranean, exclaims: ”Behold, Capraria rises before us; that isle is full of wretches, enemies of light. I detest these rocks scene of a recent s.h.i.+pwreck.” He then goes on to declare that a young and rich friend, impelled by the furies, had fled from men and G.o.ds to a living tomb, and was now decaying in that foul retreat.
This was no uncommon opinion. But contrast it with what Ambrose said of those same isles: ”It is there in these isles, thrown down by G.o.d like a collar of pearls upon the sea, that those who would escape from the charms of dissipation find refuge. Nothing here disturbs their peace, all access is closed to the wild pa.s.sions of the world. The mysterious sound of waves mingles with the chant of hymns; and, while the waters break upon the sh.o.r.es of these happy isles with a gentle murmur, the peaceful accents of the choir of the elect ascend toward Heaven from their bosom.” No wonder the Milanese ladies guarded their daughters against this theological poet.
Even among the Christians there were hostile as well as friendly critics of monasticism; Jovinian, whom Neander compares to Luther, is a type of the former. Although a monk himself, he disputed the thesis that any merit lay in celibacy, fasting or poverty. He opposed the wors.h.i.+p of saints and relics, and believed that one might retain possession of his property and make good use of it. He a.s.sailed the dissolute monks and claimed that many of Rome's n.o.blest young men and women were withdrawn from a life of usefulness into the desert. He held that there was really but one cla.s.s of Christians, namely, those who had faith in Christ, and that a monk could be no more. But Jovinian was far in advance of his age, and it was many years before the truth of his view gained any considerable recognition. He was severely attacked by Jerome, who called him a Christian Epicurean, and was condemned as a heretic by a synod at Milan, in 390. Thus the reformers were crushed for centuries. The Pagan Emperor, Julian, and the Christian, Valens, alike tried in vain to resist the emigration into the desert. Thousands fled, in times of peril to the state, from their civil and military duties, but the emperors were powerless to prevent the exodus.
That there were grounds for complaint against the monks we may know from the charges made even by those who favored the system. Jerome Ambrose, Augustine, and in fact almost every one of the Fathers tried to correct the growing disorders. We learn from them that many fled from society, not to become holy, but to escape slavery and famine; and that many were lazy and immoral. Their ”shaven heads lied to G.o.d.” Avarice, ambition, or cowardice ruled hearts that should have been actuated by a love of poverty, self-sacrifice or courage. ”Quite recently,” says Jerome, ”we have seen to our sorrow a fortune worthy of Croesus brought to light by a monk's death, and a city's alms collected for the poor, left by will to his sons and successors.”
Many monks traveled from place to place selling sham relics. Augustine wrote against ”those hypocrites who, in the dress of monks, wander about the provinces carrying pretended relics, amulets, preservatives, and expecting alms to feed their lucrative poverty and recompense their pretended virtue.” It is to the credit of the Fathers of the church that they boldly and earnestly rebuked the vices of the monks and tried to purge the monastic system of its impurities.
But the church sanctioned the monastic movement. She could not have done anything else. ”It is one of the most striking occurrences in history,”
says Harnack, ”that the church, exactly at the time when she was developing more and more into a legal inst.i.tution and a sacramental establishment, outlined a Christian life-ideal which was incapable of realization within her bounds, but only alongside of her. The more she affiliated herself with the world, the higher and more superhuman did she make her ideal.”
It is also noteworthy that this ”life-ideal” seems to have led, inevitably, to fanaticism and other excesses, so that even at this early date there was much occasion for alarm. Gross immorality was disclosed as well as luminous purity; indolence and laziness as well as the love of sacrifice and toil. So we shall find it down through the centuries.
”The East had few great men,” says Milman, ”many madmen; the West, madmen enough, but still very many, many great men.” We have met some madmen and some great men. We shall meet more of each type.
After 450 A.D., monasticism suffered an eclipse for over half a century.
It seemed as if the Western inst.i.tution was destined to end in that imbecility and failure which overtook the Eastern system. But there came a man who infused new life into the monastic body. He systematized its scattered principles and concentrated the energies of the wandering and unorganized monks.
Our next visit will be to the mountain home of this renowned character, fifty miles to the west of Rome. ”A single monk,” says Montalembert, ”is about to form there a center of spiritual virtue, and to light it up with a splendor destined to s.h.i.+ne over regenerated Europe for ten centuries to come.”
III
_THE BENEDICTINES_
Saint Benedict, the founder of the famous monastic order that bears his name, was born at Nursia, about 480 A.D. His parents, who were wealthy, intended to give him a liberal education; but their plans were defeated, for at fifteen years of age Benedict renounced his family and fortune, and fled from his school life in Rome. The vice of the city shocked and disgusted him. He would rather be ignorant and holy, than educated and wicked. On his way into the mountains, he met a monk named Roma.n.u.s,--the spot is marked by the chapel of Santa Crocella,--who gave him a haircloth s.h.i.+rt and a monastic dress of skins. Continuing his journey with Roma.n.u.s, the youthful ascetic discovered a sunless cave in the desert of Subiaco, about forty miles from Rome. Into this cell he climbed, and in it he lived three years. It was so inaccessible that Roma.n.u.s had to lower his food to him by a rope, to which was attached a bell to call him from his devotions. Once the Devil threw a stone at the rope and broke it.
But Benedict's bodily escape from the wickedness of Rome did not secure his spiritual freedom. ”There was a certain lady of thin, airy shape, who was very active in this solemnity; her name was Fancy.” Time and again, he revisited his old haunts, borne on the wings of his imagination. The face of a beautiful young girl of previous acquaintance constantly appeared before him. He was about to yield to the temptation and to return, when, summoning all his strength, he made one mighty effort to dispel the illusion forever. Divesting himself of his clothes, he rolled his naked body among the thorn-bushes near his cave. It was drastic treatment, but it seems to have rid his mind effectually of disturbing fancies. This singular self-punishment was used by G.o.dric, the Welsh saint, in the twelfth century. ”Failing to subdue his rebellious flesh by this method, he buried a cask in the earthen floor of his cell, filled it with water and fitted it with a cover, and in this receptacle he shut himself up whenever he felt the t.i.tillations of desire. In this manner, varied by occasionally pa.s.sing the night up to his chin in a river, of which he had broken the ice, he finally succeeded in mastering his fiery nature.”
One day some peasants discovered Benedict at the entrance of his cave.
Deceived by his savage appearance, they mistook him for a wild beast, but the supposed wolf proving to be a saint, they fell down and reverenced him.
The fame of the young ascetic attracted throngs of hermits, who took up their abodes near his cell. After a time monasteries were established, and Benedict was persuaded to become an abbot in one of them. His strictness provoked much opposition among the monks, resulting in carefully-laid plots to compa.s.s the moral ruin of their spiritual guide.
An attempt to poison him was defeated by a miraculous interposition, and Benedict escaped to a solitary retreat.
Again the moral hero became an abbot, and again the severity of his discipline was resented. This time a wicked and jealous priest sought to entrap the saint by turning into a garden in which he was accustomed to walk seven young girls of exquisite physical charms. When Benedict encountered this temptation, he fled from the scene and retired to a picturesque mountain--the renowned Monte Ca.s.sino. Let Montalembert describe this celebrated spot among the western Apennines: ”At the foot of this rock Benedict found an amphitheatre of the time of the Caesars, amidst the ruins of the town of Casinum, which the most learned and pious of Romans, Varro, that pagan Benedictine, whose memory and knowledge the sons of Benedict took pleasure in honoring, had rendered ill.u.s.trious. From the summit the prospect extended on one side towards Arpinum, where the prince of Roman orators was born, and on the other towards Aquinum, already celebrated as the birthplace of Juvenal.... It was amidst those n.o.ble recollections, this solemn nature, and upon that predestinated height, that the patriarch of the monks of the West founded the capital of the monastic order.”
In the year 529 a great stronghold of Paganism in these wild regions gave way to Benedict's faith. Upon the ruins of a temple to Apollo, and in a grove sacred to Venus, arose the model of Western monasticism,--the cloister of Monte Ca.s.sino, which was to s.h.i.+ne resplendent for a thousand years. The limitations of my purpose will prevent me from following in detail the fortunes of this renowned retreat, but it may not be out of place to glance at its subsequent history.
Monte Ca.s.sino is located three and a half miles to the northeast of the town of Ca.s.sino, midway between Rome and Naples. About 589 A.D. the Lombards destroyed the buildings, but the monks escaped to Rome, in fulfilment, so it is claimed, of a prophecy uttered by Benedict. It lay in ruins until restored by Gregory II. in 719, only to be burned in 884 by the Saracens; seventy years later it was again rebuilt. It afterwards pa.s.sed through a variety of calamities, and was consecrated, for the third time, by Benedict XII., in 1729. Longfellow quotes a writer for the _London Daily News_ as saying: ”There is scarcely a pope or emperor of importance who has not been personally connected with its history.