Chapter VIII: Section III: Morals

At an early period in the middle ages bishops might be seen wearing the helmet and buckler, and leading troops to the field of battle. This resulted from their holding lands of the king, as his vassals, upon condition of their performing military service. Charlemagne attempted to reform the church, and perceiving the incompatibility of martial pursuits with the clerical character and functions, released the prelates in his dominion from the duty of serving in person, if they sent their vassals into the field. In one of his capitularies, A.D. 769, he prohibited their carrying arms, their engaging in war, or even in the chase, as occupations unbecoming the servants of God. But the regulation had little effect, for after his time, as well as before, instances are found of bishops being armed, and killed in battle, or taken prisoners of war. Charlemagne himself, though forbidding the clergy to use military weapons, regarded them as proper instruments of promoting religion, when they were employed by others, nor did he object to the display of a decidedly martial spirit in the exhortations of churchmen. Previous to his expedition against the Saracens in Spain, he summoned the clergy to his counsels, and addressed them in the following manner: "Noble men, we have suffered much for Christ, in order to extend the Catholic church, and subdue the Saracens. Notwithstanding, our sufferings for him are not a thousandth part so great as his sufferings for us, who, that he might deliver us from the devil, poured out his precious blood...... Since then he suffered so much that he might deliver us from the punishment of hell, and the power of the devil, and since he has promised to us a place in glory, we ought to extend the Christian faith and confound the pagans: wherefore, we propose, by his assistance, to enter Spain, which has greatly troubled us, and, if possible, to take Narbonne." Leo, the pope of Rome, afterwards addressed Charlemagne's army in the following strain: "You should know for certain, that, if any of you fall in battle, you shall receive an incorruptible and eternal crown. Let every one confess his sins, and thus we shall be secure of conquering our foes, and in life, and in death, we may expect a reward. With great boldness and cheerfulness we ought to enter on the expedition, and valiantly subdue them. And we, who occupy the place of St. Peter, by the power which is given to us, confer on you the pardon of all your sins."[1] We see here much of the same spirit as that which animated the crusaders of a later period. It was supposed that the sword was the proper instrument for subduing the enemies of Christ. Those who considered that their priestly vocation forbade them to use it themselves, encouraged and enforced its employment by others, and, in their addresses, breathed a ferocious and martial temper, strangely at variance with the mind of Him who said to his rash disciple, of whom a line of military pontiffs, military in spirit, if not in act, were the proud pretended successors: "Put up again thy sword into its place; for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword."

From what has been already stated, some conclusion may be drawn respecting the morals of the middle ages. The impostures which were frequently countenanced and even practised by the clergy, and the palpable falsehoods which were propagated by them in the legendary tales of the saints, evince a most deplorable disregard of truth, the very first of virtues. There is scarcely anything that strikes the reader more forcibly, on looking into the records of this dark period, than the general moral obtuseness of feeling which prevailed relative to the guilt of practising deception and telling lies. Connected with this disregard of truth was an equal disregard of the principles of justice. Complaints were made, as early as the sixth century, of bishops who had appropriated to their own use endowments conferred on the church, and who were guilty of various acts of injustice and oppression. Instances of unjust conduct abound in the annals of monkish historians, and sometimes acts of shameful perfidy are recorded, as if they were by no means immoral. In the history of Ramsey Abbey, there is related a strange anecdote of a bishop who made a Danish nobleman drunk, that he might cheat him out of an estate--an exploit which the ecclesiastical historian records with much approbation.[2] In further illustration of the want of truth and justice, on the part of many of the clergy, may be noticed the notorious prevalence of simony, that evil with which the famous Hildebrand so vigorously grappled. It is not in its spiritual character, as a sin of most heinous magnitude against the Head of the church, that we notice it now, but as a crime against the laws of society. Ecclesiastical benefices were in fact social trusts--trusts to be employed for the good of mankind; and, therefore, when they were made mere matters of bargain and sale, an entire disregard to public rights was openly proclaimed. But the heaviest element of social guilt in the sin of simony, is to be found in the practice of perjury which it invariably involved. Ecclesiastical law severely condemned simony, and looking at the law we might imagine that the practice was never tolerated; but looking only at the practice so common among churchmen, and so little checked, except now and then by some bold reformer, we might suppose no law against it was in existence.

There are also abundant proofs of a general laxity of morals among the clergy of the dark ages. It is difficult to convey a correct impression on this subject. A style of sweeping declamation upon the vices of the clergy, through the space of about eight or nine centuries, is very often adopted: but it cannot be justly supposed that licentiousness prevailed equally in all places, and at all times, during that period. Here the clouds of moral gloom are of a deeper--there, of a lighter, shade: while it must be acknowledged, as will be shown more particularly hereafter, that some gleams of virtue occasionally relieve the darkness. Immediately after the barbaric invasion, the morals of the clergy in Europe seem to have been very low. Charlemagne certainly endeavoured to raise them throughout his wide dominions, and, perhaps, with some success. But, in the ninth century, some facts of a most revolting nature are disclosed. In the canons of a council held A.D. 888, the bishops complain of the numerous instances of vice among the clergy, which had come to their knowledge, and go on to state that they had heard of certain priests who were guilty of incest.[3] A bishop of Italy, in the tenth century, after complaining in the strongest terms of the vices of the age, laments that the clergy were deeply tainted with them.[4] In the eleventh and twelfth centuries, efforts were made, by zealous churchmen, to reform the moral habits of their brethren, but they seem to have been attended with little success. Of the manners of the clergy during the _twelfth_ century some most lively sketches are supplied in the letters of Peter of Blois, an English ecclesiastic, who was by no means tolerant of the vices of his fellow clerks. "I was dean of the church of Wolverhampton," says this honest writer, "which is in the diocese of Chester, but not under the jurisdiction of any one, except the archbishop of Canterbury, and the king. For by very ancient custom, which with many is reckoned as a right, the kings of England have always presented to that deanery. The dean gave the prebends, and instituted to them. As the clergy belonging to this church were wholly undisciplined, like the Welsh and Scots, (qu. Irish?) such a dissoluteness of life had crept in on them, that their vices tended to produce contempt for God, destruction of souls, infamy to the clergy, and derision and mockery in the people. In Scripture language, their base deeds were sung in the highways of Gath, and 'in the streets of Ascalon.' I frequently reminded them of the words of Hesca, 'Though thou, Israel, play the harlot, let not Judah offend.' But they fornicated openly and publicly, proclaimed their sin like Sodom, and regardless of popular infamy, married the one the other's daughter or niece; and so close was the tie of relationship among them, that no one could dissolve their bonds of iniquity. They were like the scales of Behemoth, one of which joins the other, and the breath of life does not pass through them. Moreover the earth cries against them, and the heavens proclaim their iniquities. I took the greatest pains to cut off the poisonous branches of vice among them, but it would have been easier to turn wolves into sheep, or beasts into men; for the Ethiopian will not change his skin, nor the leopard his spots. As often as I could collect any of them in the church, that I might have an opportunity of holding some conference with them, they shut their ears like the adder; and like the mountains of Gilboa, on which no dew nor rain descends, they were deaf to all wholesome advice, and careless about their own dangers. They rushed headlong, like stallions, to every vice. I did all in my power to correct them, and with all possible kindness, for their conduct gave me constant grief at the heart. But 'they hated him who stopped them in the gate, and abominated him who spoke health to them.' I betook myself to prayer; I spoke groaning in the bitterness of my heart; and, that fat might not be wanting to the sacrifice, I seasoned my groaning with tears. The king and the archbishop wrote them tremendous letters. I assured them most positively that the pope would take away their place and nation, and that they should be turned out of house and home. But the more they were threatened the more obstinate they were; the more they were exhorted, the more contemptuous did they grow. They were few in number, but their iniquities made them a multitude; the generations of vipers were multiplied. From the seed of Canaan came forth an evil and provoking race, sons of Belial, wicked children. They wished to possess the sanctuary of God as an inheritance, and therefore, when a canon died, and any respectable man was appointed, the nephew, or son, of the deceased, claimed that which is the Lord's patrimony as his. He then betook himself to the woods, joined the robbers and banditti who plunder by fire and the sword, and fell on the new canon so as to destroy him. When I saw that these insensible men were drawing near to the grave; and that I could produce no impression on them, I desired to be cut off entirely from men whose vices did not end with the end of life."[5]

In the gross immoralities of the clergy of the middle ages, which form a standing theme of lamentation with so many of the councils and writers of the period, are seen the result of forced celibacy. While the censors of ecclesiastical morals maintained that unnatural system, it was vain for them to be ever struggling with its inevitable consequences--it was useless with one hand to apply any medicines for the cure of a disease to which with the other they were continually administering the most feverish stimulants.

The clerical character being too generally what we have now described, the moral condition of the laity may be inferred. While so many of the priests were regardless of justice, truth, and purity, it would be unreasonable to look for much virtue among the people. There was a general regard paid to the forms of religion, but there was shown as general a disregard of its principles and spirit. Hallowed rites were associated with immoral practices; deeds of injustice and cruelty were prefaced by acts of devotion; the vilest characters breathed forth their aspirations to the Deity, and the virgin; and multitudes were punctilious in their observance of the ritual of the church, who were totally ignorant of the truths and duties of Christianity. This forms a state of society the most fearful. It was the condition of the Jews in the time of Isaiah, and the language of God to them, by the mouth of the prophet, applied with equal force to a large number of the religionists of the middle ages: "To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices unto me? saith the Lord: I am full of the burnt offerings of rams, and the fat of fed beasts: and I delight not in the blood of bullocks, or of lambs, or of he goats. Bring no more vain oblations; incense is an abomination unto me; the new moons and sabbaths, the calling of assemblies, I cannot away with: it is iniquity, even the solemn meeting. Your new moons and your appointed feasts my soul hateth; they are a trouble unto me; I am weary to bear them."

We have given the dark side of the picture: we must now, for a moment, glance at sentiments, and traits of character, of another order. Throughout the middle ages, traces of these may be found. Indeed the very strong terms in which the vices of an age are reprobated, by a contemporary author, evince on his part a better state of moral feeling. There are sermons extant, belonging to those times, which, among much that is superstitious and unscriptural, contain some excellent moral and religious maxims. One preacher of the seventh century has not, generally, had justice done him. Maclaine, Robertson, and other authors, have given a few sentences, extracted from different parts of a sermon by Eligius, bishop of Noyes, whence it would appear as if he had taught the people that nothing else was necessary to make a man a Christian than that he should go to church, present offerings to God, and repeat the creed and the Lord's prayer. That Eligius did not clearly understand the way of salvation by faith in the Divine Redeemer, is clear enough to any one who will peruse his discourse contained in D'Achery's Spicelegium; but justice also demands the statement, that this sermon, so often cited, but so little read, certainly inculcates a vast deal more than mere ceremonial religion, and contains many passages which are full of good sense and correct moral feeling. Indeed, in the very paragraph which precedes that from which garbled extracts have been taken, the bishop remarks: "It will not profit you, beloved, to receive the Christian name, if you do not cultivate Christian practice. Christian profession avails a man only when he preserves in his mind, and exemplifies in his conduct, the precepts of Christ; that is, who does not steal, nor bear false witness, nor tell falsehoods, nor commit adultery, nor hate any man, but loves all even as himself; who does not render evil to his enemies, but rather prays for them; who does not excite strife, but on the contrary promotes peace. For these things Christ hath commanded in the gospel, saying, 'Thou shalt do no murder,' etc., Matt. xix. 18, 19." The sermon is lamentably defective as it regards an exposition of the way in which a sinner is to obtain acceptance with God; no clear view is given of the work of Christ as the medium of our pardon, and of the work of the Spirit as the fountain of holiness; but it certainly is not wanting in moral exhortations, nor in a forcible statement of many important scriptural truths.[6]

Benevolence, at least so far as it consisted in almsgiving and kindness to the poor, was the cardinal virtue commended in many of the sermons, and exemplified in some of the lives of the saints of the dark ages. We may fairly conclude that the ecclesiastics were, in this respect, friends to the lower classes of society, and often relieved the wants of the indigent, and soothed the minds of the sorrowing. The value of such influence, during ages of disorder and violence, when a stern and almost savage spirit pervaded the upper classes of society, cannot be too highly appreciated. The spirit of kindness nurtured by many in the bosom of the church, produced an improvement in the condition of domestic slaves, and the gradual, but, at length, total extinction of slavery itself. Slaves who belonged to monasteries, or ecclesiastics, were in far better circumstances than those who were in the possession of laymen. Their sufferings under a stern master, are sometimes bewailed by the writers of the day, who allude to them under the touching appellation of those "whom Christ had redeemed at a rich price." Gregory the Great, in the sixth century, set a noble example of manumission, in granting liberty to a number of his own slaves, whom he described as free by nature, but placed by unjust law, under the yoke of bondage. Manumission was a religious ceremony. The person to be set free held a lighted torch in his hand, and was led round the altar; he then laid hold upon its horns, when the formulary of liberation was solemnly repeated.[7] Several charters of manumission, avowedly proceeding from religious motives, are cited by antiquarian writers. Slowly did the great curse of slavery yield to the influence of Christian principles; but its eventual extinction is to be ascribed solely to that spirit of humanity and justice, which Christianity alone could kindle.

Examples of individual purity and benevolence might be adduced, in contrast with the wide-spreading corruption already noticed. The lives of the saints, though pervaded by a thick cloud of superstition, do, nevertheless, reveal some traits of moral excellence. Christianity, in spite of the manifold corruptions which had gathered around it, exerted a renewing power over the minds of some. And it is very beautiful to catch, amidst the deep gloom of that period, glimpses of sincere piety, however faint. In the cloisters of the monastery, and in the more active scenes of religious life, might be found spirits who were partakers of a better nature than comes from earth. They had been born from above. They could not escape injury from the tainted atmosphere which filled the entire region around them. They often betrayed signs of feebleness, the moral pulse was low and faint; but life continued, till, raised above the unhealthy element they breathed, they entered those purer regions to which they aspired, and there felt the quickening influences of the presence of God, and were united to "the spirits of just men made perfect."

Before closing this brief survey of the influence of the church on the social condition of Europe, it will be proper to notice two institutions--The right of sanctuary, and The truce of God--which had their origin from that source, and which produced incalculably great and beneficial effects in an age of oppression and violence. The precincts of a church afforded refuge to the fugitive. Had laws been firmly established and equitably administered, such a privilege would have proved little else than a bounty upon crime, and such, at a later period, it became: but at a time when the innocent were often falsely accused, and the weak were generally oppressed, the place of sanctuary, like the Jewish city of refuge, afforded a shelter to those who, otherwise, would have been crushed by the hand of injustice or revenge. Rushing through the thickets of the forest, towards the church or the monastery, which stood in the bosom of the valley, or on the brow of the hill, the victim of savage cruelty rejoiced in the protection there afforded; and one can imagine him lifting the huge knocker of the gate, of which a specimen remains to this day on the door of Durham cathedral, and, with a palpitating heart, entering the portal under the conviction of perfect safety. There can be no doubt that this right was often abused; but still it may be fairly concluded, that, in many instances, it yielded protection to those who deserved it. The other custom we mentioned, The truce of God, was of unquestionable and still more decided advantage. The prelates of the middle ages often endeavoured to repress those private feuds which were among the most prevalent evils of the time. They availed themselves of seasons of public calamity to prevail upon the barons, who were ever waging war with each other, to form treaties of peace. But, at length, they were able to establish a permanent law, which secured a periodical and frequent interval of quietude in those troublous times. It was enacted in Aquitain, A.D. 1041, that from vespers on Wednesday evening, till the hour of dawn on Monday morning, no one should dare to assault his enemy without incurring the dreaded penalty of excommunication.[8] The law was soon afterwards extended to other countries; and in England, also, it was observed--the time of the truce being altered to the Ember days, Advent, Lent, the vigils and festivals of Christ, the virgin Mary, the apostles, and all saints, and every Sunday, reckoning from the hour of nine on Saturday evening to the dawn of light on Monday morning.[9] This was a welcome boon, and many would anxiously anticipate, and joyfully hail, the appointed time of vespers, when the authority of the church threw around them a defence more impregnable than the walls of a castle, and they could lie down and sleep in peace.

[1] Gesta, Caroli Magni, Florence, 1823, p. 37.

[2] Hallam, Middle Ages, chap. ix. 1.

[3] Mansi, xviii. 67, 177. Quoted in Giesler, ii. 112.

[4] Ratherii, Itinerarium. D'Achery, Spic. i. 381.

[5] We have adopted the vigorous translation of this letter in the Quarterly Review, vol. lviii. 437.

[6] D'Achery, Spic. tom. ii. 87.

[7] Robertson's View of the State of Europe, Note xx.

[8] Glab. Radulph Giesler, ii. 118.

[9] Lingard, Hist. of England, i. 472.