Chapter XI: Section I: Rise of Monachism

Monachism did not spring from pure Christianity, but was engrafted upon the system, after it had been grievously corrupted. It is evidently one of the great offshoots of that ascetic principle which is indigenous in human nature, and of which the developments may be traced in the Jewish Essenes, the Greek Cynics, the Alexandrian Platonists, the British Druids, and the Eastern Brahmins.

The practice of a monastic life, in its connexion with the church, commenced in Egypt, in the third century. The storms of persecution drove many into the deserts, where they sought to carry out the ascetic principles, which, even at that time, were so strongly advocated by Cyprian and others. The spirit of self-righteousness, which had led to the pharisaism of the Jews, and had produced no little of pharisaism among Christians, doubtless helped on the result; to which, perhaps, the contemplative habits of the east, the preference of quietude to activity, and the notion, that the height of religious excellence consists in the absorption of the mind by spiritual meditation, in some measure contributed. The founders of monachism were, in fact, hermits, who sought the cavern and the den, the ruins of sepulchres, and the dreariest spots of the desert, as scenes favourable to piety and communion with Heaven. That they were ignorant, deluded, and superstitious, is apparent enough; but it would be uncharitable, and contrary to historical evidence, to deny the sincerity and earnest devotion of many of these anchorets. They were men who felt the corruption of their nature, who realized the presence and agency of fallen spirits, and who sought to subdue the one, and to conquer the other, by their self-mortification. The desert was to them a place of awful silence, and sublime solitude, but no place of repose and peace, for there they were ever striving to crucify the flesh, and were hourly struggling with the powers of darkness. Gleams of noble feeling dart from amidst the darkness of their gross superstition; and, while we deplore the course they all pursued, we cannot but perceive the sublimity of the purpose by which many of them were animated. The first of the anchorets, whose name was Paul, has been immortalized by Jerome, who, in his inimitable biography of that singular person, affords a characteristic specimen of the absurd superstition and credulity, or something worse, which then overflowed the church, mingled with those elevated sentiments which, in many happy instances, were still cherished and expressed. The eloquent father relates the most absurd stories respecting his hero, telling us, that he was met by a hippocentaur--a being half horse and half man--who begged him to intercede with Christ for his salvation; that a raven, who brought him half a loaf every day, brought him a whole loaf on the occasion of St. Antony's visit; that Paul was seen ascending to heaven amidst bands of angels and prophets, and that two lions were sent to dig his grave, who, when they had finished their task, crouched at the feet of the saint, and sought, and received, his blessing. Yet this monstrous fable concludes with the following magnificent passage. "Perhaps at the close of this little book, some who are ignorant of his inheritance--who adorn their houses with marble, and cover their estates with elegant villas--may ask, Why were all these wanting to this poor aged man? You drink out of a cup of gems; he was content with one which nature supplied, the hollow of his own hands. You clothe yourself in embroidered tunics; he was clothed in a garb such as your slaves would not wear. But on the other hand, to this poor man paradise was opened; for you, rich men, perdition is prepared. He, though naked, was clothed in the robe of Christ; you, clothed in fine linen, lack that better raiment. Paul, covered with a little dust, is about to rise to glory; you, slumbering under marble sepulchres, shall be consumed with all your possessions. Spare yourselves, I beseech you, spare the wealth you love. Why should you wrap your dead in gilded robes? Why should your vain pride linger among your mourning and your tears? Will not the bodies of the rich decay unless they be folded in silk? I intreat you who read these things, that you would be mindful of Jerome a sinner, who, if the Lord wrong give him the choice, would much rather have Paul's humble clothing with his merits, than the purple robe of kings with their punishment."[1]

This production, by Jerome, strikes us as being a type of the early system of monkery; a mass of superstition, illumined here and there by noble sentiments, while these very sentiments are themselves tinctured by fearful errors. The allusion to the naked soul being clothed in the robe of Christ is very beautiful, and accords with the apostle Paul's sentiment in his Epistle to the Philippians, where he exhibits the ground of his own personal hope--that ground on which every true Christian rests exclusively--"Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ, and be found in him, not having mine own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith." Resting there--building on that blessed foundation, "Jerome a sinner" would be safe; but instead of alluding to that as his only ground of hope, he speaks of "the merits" of his departed friend. That was the robe "better than the purple of kings" in which he would fain be wrapped. He seems to forget the Divine and perfect garment he had before mentioned, in his admiration and desire of the human, imperfect, and tattered robe of the poor hermit's righteousness. Such was the theology of the day, so ruinous to souls, either substituting the merit of man for the merit of the Redeemer, or endeavouring to unite them; such was the pestilential heresy that was ravaging the church; such was the principle which lay at the foundation of the monkish system; and such is the sentiment which, in the present day, as in former times, fastens on the minds of many, distracting their thoughts, bewildering their attention, and cheating them out of the safety and peace they would secure by a simple reliance on "the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world;" for "neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved."

Monks were a different class of ascetics. They were men not living in solitude, but associated together under certain laws, yet keeping aloof from the world, and practising great self-denial. Antony was the founder of monastic establishments in Egypt, whence they rapidly spread over every part of Christendom. Athanasius introduced them into the west, where, at first, they seem to have been unpopular; and Martin of Tours was the founder of them in Gaul. But these establishments were so agreeable to the spiritual pride of some, the indolence of others, and the misguided piety of many more, that they soon multiplied, and became crowded with inmates; so that no less than two thousand of the fraternity in Gaul followed to the grave the remains of their zealous patron the famous St. Martin.

The discipline of the western monks was less severe than that of their brethren in the east, a change produced perhaps partly by the greater severity of the climate, and partly from regard to popular feeling. Nor did they cultivate the industrious habits of the Egyptian recluses. Even St. Antony spent a life of labour, and he is described by his biographer as diligently employed in basket-making: but complaints were early made of the monks in Gaul, that they neglected the useful arts, and, with the exception of the younger brethren, restricted themselves to the exercises of devotion.

In the early part of the fifth century, there arose an individual who created a great and a permanent change in the monastic life, by reducing the institute into a regular and defined system. This was Benedict, the founder of the first monastic _order_ properly so called. Marvellous are the stories related of this celebrated monk. He is said to have been frequently buffeted by Satan, who sometimes appeared with horns and hoofs, and sometimes in the form of a blackbird. The miracles the saint performed were more than usually numerous even in that miraculous age; and so strong and inherent was the devotional temperament of his mind, that he is described as having sung psalms before he was born! But some account of the rules of his institute will be more to our present purpose, as they constituted the basis of all the monastic institutions of the middle ages, and will therefore introduce us to an acquaintance with the social life of an immense class of persons for many centuries.

After describing four classes of monks, the Cœnobites, Anchorets, Saraibaites, and Gyrovagi--the last two of whom seem to have been licentious and idle vagabonds--he states that his rule was intended for the first class, the Cœnobites, who, while they secluded themselves from the society of the world, lived together in monasteries, under the government of an abbot. The qualifications for this high office are specified, and the person selected to fill it, is charged to instruct the community by his life as well as his counsels, and to treat the brethren, who were to look up to him as to a father, in a spirit of paternal kindness and impartiality. He had power to admonish offenders, and even to punish the refractory with stripes. The whole fraternity were to form a chapter, or council, with whom he was to consult on the business of the monastery; but he was left, after deliberation, to form his own judgment, to which the whole brotherhood were bound to submit. Obedience was the cardinal virtue of monks, with which silence and humility were closely connected. Benedict details the order of the church service which the brethren were to observe, and appoints the canonical hours, lauds, prime, tierce, sexts, nones, vespers, and complines. Every ten monks were placed under a dean, (_decanus_,) who was to sleep with them in their dormitories. Delinquents were to be punished according to the guilt of their offence, by separation from their brethren, the infliction of stripes, or total expulsion. The possessions of the monastery were common property, and no one was to call anything his own. The brethren were required to serve in the kitchen and refectory, from which nothing but sickness could exempt them; they were allowed, as a reward, an extra draught of wine, and a piece of bread. Dinner, in general, was at sexts, (twelve,) but on fast days at nones, (three,) when it was the only meal. The sick monks were treated with special kindness, and were allowed meat and wine; but those who were in health were only provided with cooked vegetables and fruit; the abbot, however, seemed to have a discretionary power in such matters. Edifying books were to be read to the assembled brethren after supper, or even-song on fast days. He particularly inculcates the duty of manual labour, observing that "idleness is injurious to the mind;" and he also enjoins upon the monks the practice of reading, for which, however, they could have little time after spending so many hours in devotion and labour. The rites of hospitality were to be liberally maintained, and the abbot's table was to be open for the reception of guests, who were to be welcomed with the kiss of peace, but not till after prayer had been offered. The abbot was to appoint the dress of the fraternity, and each brother was to have two tunics, cowls, and scapularies, the best being reserved for wear when they went from home. When travelling, they wore breeches, but, at other times, their gown was to suffice. A blanket, quilt, and pillow was allotted to each brother, and the abbot was frequently to search under the beds to see whether a monk had concealed anything which he had not received from the convent. Severe were the terms of entrance--four or five days was the applicant to bear the rebuffs of the porter; and then to be received in the room appointed for the guests, where some aged brother was to explain to him the most rigorous parts of the monastic discipline, when, if he were willing to submit to them, he was received into the class of novices, upon trial for twelve months, after which, if obedient and willing to give up all he had, he was to be fully admitted into the order. A solemn profession was made, his secular garments were placed in the wardrobe, his vow was considered irrevocable, and the bond he subscribed, or signed with the cross, was laid up among the archives of the monastery, as the pledge of obedience for ever.

Strange monks who visited a monastery were to be kindly entertained, so long as they chose to remain in obedience, but the abbot was not to receive the member of any other known monastery without letters of dismission. The brethren were to take precedence according to their seniority in the convent: but all were to be obedient to the abbot; not even going out, without seeking his permission and prayers. To these regulations, respecting the order of the society, are appended a number of short moral and religious maxims, breathing a pure, benevolent, and devout spirit.[2]

St. Benedict was a reformer, and the rule he instituted was undoubtedly a great improvement upon the monastic habits of earlier times. Its success was great beyond expectation, for, being approved by popes and councils, it was, in process of time, adopted as the universal system of the west. The reader, no doubt, in perusing these rules, has caught some glimpses of the monastic life, and has pictured to himself the habits of the brotherhood: and now, to assist him in his imaginings, to give a local habitation and a name to the picture he may form, let us open the chronicle of a monastery in the eighth century, and take a peep at one of the structures within which communities of this kind were gathered.

The monastery of Centule, after having fallen into decay, was restored by Angilbert. He repaired the buildings, "and employed skilful artificers in wood, stone, glass, and marble." The emperor, who cherished a special regard for Angilbert, and who desired to see the abbey magnificently rebuilt, directed that marble columns from the city of Rome should be conveyed to Centule for the adornment of the edifice. During the progress of the works, an accident occurred--one of the columns fell, and was broken in two; but, early in the morning, when the workmen came to the spot, they found, to their surprise, the broken pillar restored, and placed erect; for, according to the historian, an angel had been there, and united the broken parts, and left the impress of his hand upon the marble, where the pieces were joined! The monastery is described as triangular;[3] it contained three churches, which were united to each other by three walls. The largest of the churches was dedicated to St. Richard, the founder of the abbey, and had two towers, one at the east, and the other at the west end. The next in size was consecrated to the virgin Mary; and the third, which was the least, was set apart to the honour of St. Benedict, who established the order. The monastery was arranged according to his rules, so that every useful art and necessary employment might be carried on within the circuit of the walls: the church had numerous altars, which were abundantly enriched with relics--some of the virgin Mary's milk, and a portion of St. Peter's beard, occupying a very conspicuous place in the precious inventory. A long enumeration follows of vases, crosses, crowns, lamps, chalices, etc.; of gold and silver, adorned with gems, beside a vast number of splendid vestments: the monkish chronicler adding, at the close, that there were many more ornaments and useful things, in lead, glass, and marble, which it would be tedious to enumerate. It was ordained that there should be, at least, three hundred monks supported in this abbey; and one hundred boys, to be fed and clothed like the brethren, who were to arrange them in three choirs, that they might assist in singing, and in playing on instruments; each of the three churches having a choir appropriated to itself, so that, in canonical hours, they might be all employed at the same time in religious worship.[4]

But we must leave all this, to trace the bearings of monachism on the interests of society.

[1] Vita Pauli.

[2] Regula Benedieti. Hospinian de origine et progressu Monachatus, etc. p. 116. A good sketch of the Benedictine rules is given in Quarterly Review, vol. xxiii. 59

[3] Monasteries were generally quadrangular.

[4] D'Achery, Spic. tom. ii. 303.