Part 8 (1/2)

The Knights of the Hospital a.s.sumed as their peculiar work the care of the sick. The Begging Friars, as will be seen later, were distinguished by the importance which they attached to the rule of poverty; the Jesuits, by exalting the law of unquestioning obedience. In view of the warlike character of the Middle Ages it is strange the soldier-monk did not appear earlier than he did. The abbots, in many cases, were feudal lords with immense possessions which needed protection like secular property, but as this could not be secured by the arts of peace, we find traces of the union of the soldier and the monk before the distinct orders professing that character. The immediate cause of such organizations was the crusades. There were numerous societies of this character, some of them so far removed from the monastic type as scarcely to be ranked with monastic inst.i.tutions. One list mentions two hundred and seven of these Orders of Knighthood, comprising many varieties in theory and practice. The most important were three,--the Knights of the Hospital, or the Knights of St. John; the Knights Templars; and the Teutonic Knights. The Hospitallers wore black mantles with white crosses, the Templars white mantles with red crosses, and the Teutonic Knights white mantles with black crosses. The mantles were in fact the robe of the monk adorned with a cross. The whole system was really a marriage of monasticism and chivalry, as Gibbon says: ”The firmest bulwark of Jerusalem was founded in the Knights of the Hospital and of the Temple, that strange a.s.sociation of monastic and military life. The flower of the n.o.bility of Europe aspired to wear the cross and profess the vows of these orders; their spirit and discipline were immortal.”

A pa.s.sage in the Alexiad quoted in Walter Scott's ”Robert of Paris”

reads: ”As for the mult.i.tude of those who advanced toward the great city let it be enough to say, that they were as the stars in the heaven or as the sand of the seash.o.r.e. They were in the words of Homer, as many as the leaves and flowers of spring.” This figurative description is almost literally true. Europe poured her men and her wealth into the East. No one but an eye-witness can conceive of the vast amount of suffering endured by those fanatical mult.i.tudes as they roamed the streets of Jerusalem looking for shelter, or lay starving by the roadside on a bed of gra.s.s.

The term Hospitallers was applied to certain brotherhoods of monks and laymen. While professing some monastic rule, the members of these societies devoted themselves solely to caring for the sick and the poor, the hospitals in those days being connected with the monasteries.

About the year 1050 some Italian merchants secured permission to build a convent in Jerusalem to shelter Latin pilgrims. The hotels which sprang up after this were gradually transformed into hospitals for the care of the sick and presided over by Benedictine monks. The sick were carefully nursed and shelter granted to as many as could be accommodated. n.o.bles abandoned the profession of arms and, becoming monks, devoted themselves to caring for the unfortunate crusaders in these inns. The work rapidly increased in extent and importance. In the year 1099, G.o.dfrey de Bouillon endowed the original hospital, which had been dedicated to St. John. He also established many other monasteries on this holy soil. The monks, most of whom were also knights, formed an organization which received confirmation from Rome, as ”The Knights of St. John of Jerusalem.” The order rapidly a.s.sumed a distinctly military character, for, to do its work completely, it must not only care for the sick in Jerusalem, but defend the pilgrim on his way to the Holy City.

This ended in an undertaking to defend Christendom against Mohammedan invasion and in fighting for the recovery of the Holy Sepulcher.

After visiting some of these Palestinian monasteries, a king of Hungary thus describes his impressions: ”Lodging in their houses, I have seen them feed every day innumerable mult.i.tudes of poor, the sick laid on good beds and treated with great care. In a word, the Knights of St.

John are employed sometimes like Martha, in action, and sometimes like Mary, in contemplation, and this n.o.ble militia consecrate their days either in their infirmaries or else in engagements against the enemies of the cross.”

The Knights Templars were far more militant than the Knights of St.

John, but they also were actuated by the monastic spirit. Bernard tried to inspire this order with a strong Christian zeal so that, as he said, ”War should become something of which G.o.d could approve.” The success which attended its operations led as usual to its corruption and decline. Beginning with a few crusaders leagued together for service and living on the site of the ancient Temple at Jerusalem, it soon widened the scope of its services and became a powerful branch of the crusading army. It was charged by Philip IV. of France, in 1307, with the most fearful crimes, to sustain or to deny which accusations many volumes have been composed. Five years later the order was suppressed and its vast acc.u.mulations transferred to the Knights of St. John. ”The horrible fate of the Templars,” says Allen, ”was taken by many as a beginning and omen of the destruction that would soon pa.s.s upon all the hated religious orders. And so this final burst of enthusiasm and splendor in the religious life was among the prognostics of a state of things in which monasticism must fade quite away.”

Wondrous changes have taken place in those dark and troubled years since Benedict began his labors at Monte Ca.s.sino, in 529. The monk has prayed alone in the mountains, and converted the barbarian in the forest. He has preached the crusades in magnificent cathedrals, and crossed stormy seas in his frail bark. He has made the schools famous by his literary achievements, and taught children the alphabet in the woodland cell. He has been good and bad, proud and humble, rich and poor, arrogant and gentle. He has met the shock of lances on his prancing steed, and trudged barefoot from town to town. He has copied ma.n.u.scripts in the lonely Scottish isle, and bathed the fevered brow of the pilgrim in the hospital at Jerusalem. He has dug ditches, and governed the world as the pope of the Church. He has held the plow in the furrow, and thwarted the devices of the king. He has befriended the poor, and imposed penance upon princes. He has imitated the poverty and purity of Jesus, and aped the pomp and vice of kings. He has dwelt solitary on cold mountains, subsisting on bread, roots and water, and he has surrounded himself with menials ready to gratify every luxurious wish, amid the splendor of palatial cloisters. Still there are new types and phases of monasticism yet to appear. The monk has other tasks to undertake, for the world is not yet sufficiently wearied of his presence to destroy his cloister and banish him from the land.

V

_THE MENDICANT FRIARS_

Abraham Lincoln only applied a general principle to a specific case when he said, ”This nation cannot long endure half slave and half free.”

Glaring inconsistencies between faith and practice will eventually destroy any inst.i.tution, however lofty its ideal or n.o.ble its foundation. G.o.d suffers long and is kind, but His forbearance is not limitless. Monasticism, as has been shown, was never free from serious inconsistency, from moral dualism. But the power of reform prolonged its existence. It was constantly producing fresh models of its ancient ideals. It had a hidden reserve-force from which it supplied s.h.i.+ning examples of a living faith and a self-denying love, just at the time when it seemed as if the system was about to perish forever. When these fresh exhibitions of monastic fidelity likewise became tarnished, when men had tired of them and predicted the speedy collapse of the inst.i.tution, forth from the cloister came another body of monkish recruits, to convince the world that monasticism was not dead; that it did not intend to die; that it was mightier than all its enemies. The day came, however, when the world lost its confidence in an inst.i.tution which required such constant reforming to keep it pure, which demanded so much cleansing to keep it clean. Ideals that could so quickly lose their influence for good came to be looked upon with suspicion.

At the beginning of the thirteenth century we are confronted by the anomaly of a church grossly corrupt but widely obeyed. She is nearing the pinnacle of her power and the zenith of her glory, although the parochial clergy have sunk into vice and incapacity, and the monks, as a cla.s.s, are lazy, ignorant and notoriously corrupt. Two things, especially, command the attention,--first, the immorality and laxity of the monks; and second, the growth of heresies and the tendency toward open schism. The necessity of reform was clearly apprehended by the church as well as by the heretical parties, but, since the church had such a hold upon society, those who sought to reform the monasteries by returning to old beliefs and ancient customs were much more in favor than those who left the church and opposed her from the outside. The impossibility of substantial, internal reform had not yet come to be generally recognized. As time pa.s.sed the conviction that it was of no use to attempt reforms from the inside gained ground; then the separatists multiplied, and the shedding of blood commenced. The world had to learn anew that it was futile to put new wine into old bottles or to patch new cloth on an old garment.

”It is the privilege of genius,” says Trench, ”to evoke a new creation, where to common eyes all appears barren and worn out.” Francis and Dominic evoked this new creation; but although the monk now will appear in a new garb, he will prove himself to be about the same old character whom the world has known a great many years; when this discovery is made monasticism is doomed. Perplexed Europe will anxiously seek some means of destruction, but G.o.d will have Luther ready to aid in the solution of the problem.

_Francis Bernardone_, 1182-1226 _A.D._.

Saint Francis, the founder of the Franciscan Order, was born at a.s.sisi, a walled town of Umbria, in Italy. His father, Peter Bernardone, or Bernardo, was in France on business when his son was born and named. On his return, or, as some say, at a later time, he changed his son's name from John to Francis. His wealth enabled him to supply Francis with the funds necessary to maintain his leaders.h.i.+p among gay companions.

Catholic writers are fond of describing the early years of their saints as marked by vice in order to portray them as miracles of grace. It is therefore uncertain whether Francis was anything worse than a happy, joyous lad, who loved fine clothes, midnight songs and parties of pleasure. He was certainly a very popular and courteous lad, very much in love with the world. During a short service in the army he was taken prisoner. After his release he fell sick, and experienced a temporary disgust with his past life. With his renewed health his love of festivities and dress returned.

Walking out one day, dressed in a handsome new suit, he met a poor and ill-clad soldier; moved to pity, he exchanged his fine clothes for the rags of the stranger. That night Francis dreamed of a splendid castle, with gorgeous banners flying from its ramparts, and suits of armor adorned with the cross. ”These,” said a voice, ”are for you and for your soldiers.” We are told that this was intended to be taken spiritually and was prophetic of the Begging Friars, but Francis misunderstood the dream, taking it as a token of military achievements. The next day he set off mounted on a fine horse, saying as he left, ”I shall be a great prince.” But his weak frame could not endure such rough usage and he was taken sick at Spoleto. Again he dreamed. This time the vision revealed his misinterpretation of the former message, and so, on his recovery, he returned somewhat crestfallen to a.s.sisi, where he gave his friends a farewell feast. Thus at the threshold of his career we note two important facts,--disease and dreams. All through his life he had these fits of sickness, attended by dreams; and throughout his life he was guided by these visions. Neander remarks: ”It would be a matter of some importance if we could be more exactly informed with regard to the nature of his disease and the way in which it affected his physical and mental const.i.tution. Perhaps it might a.s.sist us to a more satisfactory explanation of the eccentric vein in his life, that singular mixture of religious enthusiasm bordering insanity; but we are left wholly in the dark.”

Francis now devoted himself to his father's business, but dreams and visions continued to distress him. His spiritual fervor increased daily.

He grieved for the poor and gave himself to the care of the sick, especially the lepers. During a visit to Rome he became so sad at the sight of desperate poverty that he impetuously flung his bag of gold upon the altar with such force as to startle the wors.h.i.+pers. He went out from the church, exchanged his clothes for a beggar's rags, and stood for hours asking alms among a crowd of filthy beggars.

But though Francis longed to a.s.sociate himself in some way with the lowest cla.s.ses, he could obtain no certain light upon his duty. While prostrated before the crucifix, in the dilapidated church of St.

Damian, in a.s.sisi, he heard a voice saying, ”Francis, seest thou not that my house is in ruins? Go and restore it for me.” Again it is said that this pointed to his great life-work of restoring spiritual power to the church, but he again accepted the message in a literal sense.

Delighted to receive a command so specific, the kneeling Francis fervently responded, ”With good will, Lord,” and gladly entered upon the task of repairing the church of St. Damian. ”Having fortified himself by the sign of the cross,” he took a horse and a valuable bundle of goods belonging to his father and sold both at Falingo. Instead of turning the proceeds over to his father, Francis offered them to the priest of St.

Damian, who, fearing the father's displeasure, refused to accept the stolen funds. The young zealot, ”who had utter contempt for money,”

threw the gold on one of the windows of the church. Such is the story as gleaned from Catholic sources. The heretics, who have criticised Francis for this conduct, are answered by the following ingenious but dangerous sophistry: ”It is certainly quite contrary to the ordinary law of justice for one man to take for himself the property of another; but if Almighty G.o.d, to whom all things belong, and for whom we are only stewards, is pleased to dispense with this His own law in a particular case, and to bestow what He has. .h.i.therto given to one upon another, He confers at the same time a valid t.i.tle to the gift, and it is no robbery in him who has received it to act upon that t.i.tle.”

Fearing his father's wrath, Francis hid himself in the priest's room, and contemporary authors a.s.sure us that when the irate parent entered, Francis was miraculously let into the wall. Wading (1731 A.D.) says the hollow place may still be seen in the wall.