WE have looked a little at the East, in the sketch of Justinian; we will now look at one of the renowned bishops of the church in the West. Gregory was born at Rome. At first he entered into civil employment, but when about thirty-five years of age, he abandoned the world, and founded several monasteries. One was in his family mansion at Rome, where he lived as a strict ascetic. In this he persevered, though frequently laid low through illness brought on by his severities. He had been ordained deacon, and, on the death of pope Pelagius, he was chosen to succeed him.
He did all he could to avoid the appointment by hiding himself, and by writing a letter to the emperor, begging him not to give his consent. The letter being intercepted and detained, the consent was given, and he was duly installed. An ancient writer says he shrank from the office, "lest the worldly glory which he had before cast away might creep on him under the color of ecclesiastical government."
He himself, also, compared the church to an "old and violently shattered ship, admitting, the waters on all sides—its timbers rotten, shaken by daily storms, and sounding of wreck." This is not a description by an enemy, but by one who loved his church, and had been zealous to serve it.
Things around the pope were indeed discouraging. Italy was held to belong to the emperor at Constantinople; but the Lombards had overrun a great part, and threatened the rest. Those in Italy could only look to the emperor, who did not protect them. The inhabitants were wasting away by wars and famines, and Rome itself suffered from storms and inundations. Things were in such a low state that many predicted that the end of the world must be at hand.
Neither were the affairs in the church any brighter: darkness was setting in. The clergy were few, and did not look well after their scattered flocks. The dreaded Lombards were Arians. Schism still reigned in some places because of the "Three Chapters;" and in others the Donatists and Monophysites caused trouble.
Gregory took the reins in hand at once, and energetically labored to steer the church through its many dangers. Nearly 850 letters tell of the diligence he used to set matters right wherever he thought his aid was needed. He endeavoured to introduce many improvements into the church, both in its organization and in its practices. He paid special attention to the singing, introducing the mode of chanting which still bears his name. With a whip in hand (long preserved as a relic) he would threaten the choristers if they disobeyed him.
He had, however, other important duties. Preaching was one that he diligently followed, with what success we know not. The distress at Rome was so great that he used a great part of his revenues in supplying the needs of the people.
Rome being threatened by the Lombards, he came to terms with them, without waiting for the court of Constantinople to sanction what he did. The court ridiculed this, but the people were spared the horrors of war, and were glad of his interference.
Gregory had to lament that he was so much taken up with temporal things. He wrote to a friend, "Weep if you love me, for I have so many temporal affairs to attend to in the situation which I occupy, that I find myself almost separated by this dignity from the love of God."
His zeal was very much exercised in ceremonies; the dresses were multiplied, and everything was to be done in a stated order. History records how a service was conducted by Gregory on Easter Sunday, which shews how the simplicity of worship was marred.
The service began by hymns being chanted as the pope walked through the church. He was attended by the chief deacon, while seven attendants preceded, carrying seven candlesticks and the incense. On reaching the altar, "Glory to the Father" was sung, completing the preliminary hymns. The pope then prayed in silence, then kissed the altar and the Gospels. The choir then chanted the “Kyrie Eleison." He then turned to the congregation and repeated alone the “Glory in the highest," and then blessed them. The collect and the epistle were read. A chorister chanted a hymn. The chief deacon, being blessed by the pope, kissed the Gospels, and then read the gospel appointed for the day. The book was then carried by a subdeacon to the whole congregation for each to kiss. The pope then preached his sermon, and another psalm or anthem concluded this part of the service.
The pope then went round the church with two attendants to receive the offerings of the congregation, which at that time consisted of loaves of bread and flasks of wine. The pope and the chief deacon then washed their hands. Bread and wine were now placed on the altar. The choir sang the "Offertory," while the pope received the offerings of the clergy and his own (presented by the chief deacon). Then he and the whole clergy knelt in silent prayer. The choir sang the "Sanctus," and he read the canon.
Then the chief deacon took the chalice and carried it to the pope, who touched the side of it with the host. A prayer and blessing was then said, and after making the sign of the cross three times on the chalice, the bread (consecrated the day before) was placed into it, and it was carried to the congregation to kiss. The choir chanted "Agnus Dei."
The pope then, turning towards the East, partook of the bread and wine. He then put a morsel of the bread of which he had partaken into the chalice, and poured a small portion of the consecrated wine into a vessel full of unconsecrated. This rendered it all consecrated. The bishops and the priests then partook of the bread from the hands of the pope, the chief deacon giving them the wine. The pope then gave the bread to the congregation in the front seats, while the clergy did the same to the other parts of the congregation. The chief deacon followed with the wine which the people partook of through a golden tube. The choir in the meantime chanted appointed psalms.
The pope again approached the altar and prayed and blessed the people; and the deacon dismissed the people with "Ite, missa est!"
We have given this service nearly in full, that the reader may see to what a set of formalities the Lord's supper had fallen in the sixth century. One has only to compare it with the account, given in the New Testament, of how our Lord instituted that memorial of His death, to see how sadly it was smothered in outward ceremonies. The singing was by the choir, trained for such service; the prayers were by the clergy; the people kissed the Gospels and then the cup, and partook of the bread and wine. Oh that men would remember the words of our Lord, “They that worship God, must worship him in spirit and in truth." “The flesh profiteth nothing."
Notice also that at this date the people partook of the wine, which is now denied them in the church of Rome.
Along with the ceremonies introduced by Gregory into the service of the church, reverence towards relics was also fostered. Thus in one of his letters to the empress, who had asked for some relics of St. Paul and St. Peter, he told her they were to be approached even with the greatest fear. He said his predecessor had been troubled by visions, because he had simply desired to try their virtue. He said the relics themselves were never given, but only pieces of linen or stuff which had been placed near the relic; however he would try and send her some filings from the chain of St. Peter, provided the priest appointed was able to obtain them, for the file would not cut unless there was holiness in those who desired the same! Alas, how false must be the religion that needs to be bolstered up by such falsehoods!
The church of Rome at that time had its earthly possessions in various places. In all these Gregory had his agents to manage the estates, and many of his letters are to these agents, giving them minute instructions as to how things should be managed, so that there should be no damage to the church, and no infringement on the rights of others. He had the income from these estates carefully divided into four equal parts, and given to the bishop, the clergy, the church and its service, and the poor. This supervision contributed to what Gregory lamented as the many earthly things that drew him away from those more heavenly.
One very grievous trial to Gregory was the fact, that the patriarch of Constantinople was styled “universal bishop." So strong was Gregory in condemning this that he himself would not, at that time, be thus styled. Though what made it so irritating to him was that he contended, that the eastern church was dependent on the church of Rome, and nothing that at all clashed with that claim could be tolerated. He wrote to the patriarch, and then to the emperor, respecting, the hated title; but with little or no effect—the title was maintained.
Gregory even appealed to the emperor Phocas —a man who had assumed the purple, after slaying the six sons of the emperor Mauricius before his eyes, and then putting the emperor to death: he also enticed the late empress and her three daughters from the asylum of a church, upon promise of liberty, but then put them to death. Gregory wrote to this cruel pretender, and his wife Leontia, in the most flattering terms, rejoicing at their accession, and condemning the late emperor, from whose yoke the church was now blessedly free! He exhorted them to protect the afflicted church of St. Peter. “I do not doubt," said he, "that you will take care to oblige and bind him to you by whom you desire to be loosed from your sins."
Gregory did not long survive this shameful flattery of Phocas. He passed away, after suffering much from gout, on March 12, A.D. 604.
Gregory has been held up as being one of the best of the bishops of Rome. He lived at a time when the darkness was only setting in, and yet in writing to various rulers he exhorted them, among other things, to correct the vices of the clergy, and to aim at the conversion of the heathen. A strange thing this, for the rulers to correct the clergy, instead of the clergy being examples to the rulers; and surely it was also the work of the clergy, rather than the rulers, to preach the gospel to the heathen.
Gregory and England.
Soon after Gregory the Great had been made abbot of the monastery at Rome which he had established, he was one day passing through the market-place when he saw some young Anglo-Saxon slaves exposed for sale. He was so struck with their appearance that he was led to inquire respecting their country. The conversation that ensued is thus related:
“Whence come these captives?"
"From the isle of Britain."
“Are the natives of that island Christians?"
“No; they are pagans."
“It is sad that the author of darkness should possess men with such bright faces; but what is the name of that particular nation?"
“They are called Angli."
"And rightly so, for their angel-like faces: they ought to be co-heirs with the angels in heaven. In what province of England did they live?"
"In Deïra."
“They must be freed de Dei irâ (from the anger of God). How is the king of the country called?"
“Ella."
“Surely Hallelujah ought to be sung in his kingdom, to the praise of God who created all things."
Gregory, after gaining the consent of the pope, determined to go to England, and seek the conversion of its inhabitants. He started on his mission, but had not proceeded far when the people of Rome, who had been accustomed to consider him as a saint, compelled him to return.
Though thwarted in his purpose for the time, Gregory did not forget England; and when he became pope, he sought means to send some missionaries to our island.
Augustine, the abbot of his monastery, was chosen by Gregory for this mission. He was a man of ardent piety—one on whom Gregory could rely. Several monks were appointed to accompany Augustine, and after being commended to God by prayer, they set out on their journey. They had, however, only proceeded as far as Provence, when they were overwhelmed with the prospect of the difficulties of such a mission; and, after consultation, Augustine returned to Rome to ask permission of the pope to abandon the enterprise.
But Gregory only the more earnestly exhorted Augustine to persevere, and reminded him of the rewards of heaven if he succeeded. He also gave Augustine letters to the king of Burgundy, and to other princes, and to bishops through whose provinces the missionaries would travel.
Augustine and his party took courage, and again started on their mission—being now forty in number—and at length landed safely on the isle of Thanet. Ethelbert was then king of Kent, the most powerful of the Anglo-Saxon monarchs. He had married Bertha, a Christian princess, daughter of Charibert, king of Paris. Messengers were sent to the king, to announce the arrival of men who had brought tidings of the way in which eternal happiness and glory were to be obtained, with peace and blessing from the true God.
Ethelbert went to meet Augustine where he had landed, and preparations were made by the abbot to impress the king with the dignity of his mission. These things appear to have had a contrary effect, and to have roused his suspicions, for he would not meet Augustine except in the open air, lest he should be brought under some magical power, though this may, however, have been suggested by the pagan priests. The reply of the king, was that he could not change the religion of himself and his people without due consideration. But, as they had come from a distance, they might remain, and he would protect them. Any of his people that chose might become converts.
Augustine removed to Canterbury, where Ethelbert held his court, and near which Bertha worshipped in a ruined church. Here the chaste lives and seemly behaviour of the missionaries—together with their lofty message, and the miracles they were supposed to have wrought—gradually won the confidence of the people, and many converts were gained. Ethelbert at length embraced Christianity ( A.D. 597), and glad messages were despatched to Rome of the success of the mission.
Augustine was made archbishop of Canterbury, and he proceeded to call a synod of the Saxon and British bishops. Christianity had long before been established in England; but during the wars of the Picts and Scots, and of the Saxons, the British Christians had taken shelter in the more secluded places, especially in Wales.
Augustine seeing the desirability of calling all to the synod, decided to hold it on the confines of the West Saxons, so that all might be able to attend.
Few however attended the first meeting, and Augustine proposed that they should all strive for the conversion of the heathen, that they should submit to the pope, and should adopt a uniformity of ceremony with the Roman church, especially in the celebration of Easter.
The reply was that they were ready to obey the church of God, the pope of Rome, and every godly Christian; but other obedience to any one calling himself pope, or father of fathers, they could not yield.
The synod thus failing in the object Augustine had in view, he proposed that they should prove who was right by a miracle. A blind man was introduced, and the British bishops prayed that he might receive his sight; but he remained blind. Augustine then called on God, and the blind man was soon restored, according to the historian Bede!
The British bishops owned that now they ought to bow to Augustine as to the observation of Easter; but the consent of the elders and people was needed before they could promise entire submission.
Before the next meeting, the British resorted to a hermit, who was reputed to be "holy and wise," for advice as to yielding to the requests of Augustine. The conference is thus recorded:
"Are we bound to desert our traditions at the preaching of Augustine?"
"If he be a man of God, follow him."
"But how shall we be able to make trial thereof?"
"The Lord saith, 'Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart.' (Matt. 11:2929Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. (Matthew 11:29).) If therefore this Augustine be mild and humble of heart, it is credible that he himself beareth the yoke of Christ, and tendereth the same to be borne of you; but if he is cruel and proud, it appeareth that he is not of God, neither ought ye to heed what he saith."
"But how shall we make discovery hereof?" "Contrive that he and his may come first into the place of the synod. And if he rise up when you draw near unto him, hear him then obediently, knowing him for a servant of Christ; but if he slighteth you, and vouchsafeth not to rise up unto you (seeing you are more in number), let him be slighted by you."
Armed with these instructions, the British bishops proceeded to the synod. But, alas! Augustine sat in all dignity, and did not rise to greet them. Now they could not be moved to offer submission to one so proud. Augustine then proceeded to threaten them, prophesying that they would be punished by the heathen's swords.
Some while after, Ethelfrid, king of Northumberland, attacked Wales, when an army of monks, some 1200 strong, unarmed, prayed for protection. But Ethelfrid, being told that they were praying against him, ordered their massacre. Only fifty escaped; but this event is placed, by some, subsequent to the death of Augustine.
After this we lose sight of the British Christians for a long time, except that we read, that they who had not withdrawn to secluded places had more or less submitted to the Romish clergy.
Augustine however had prospered. Multitudes of the Anglo-Saxons turned nominal Christians. It is said 10,000 were baptized in one day—baptized as they walked through the river Swale. He wrought many miracles, according to the Romish historians, some of which are too absurd even to repeat, much less to be believed.
Gregory had counselled that the heathen temples should not be destroyed, but consecrated for worship, so that the people might be the more easily induced to attend. Festivals also were held at the ancient times, booths erected, animals slain, and the people fed—but consecrated to some saint. Their heathen habits would thus not be so much violated as if all were swept away at once. The new religion, indeed, was to be accommodated to heathen customs! And this was called Christianity!
Augustine was also successful with Sebert, king of Essex, who, with all his kingdom, professed Christianity. After appointing bishops of London and Rochester, he was influential in winning over Redwald, king of East Anglia, who also embraced Christianity. Augustine died about A.D. 605.
Laurentius followed Augustine as Archbishop. He succeeded in bringing the Britons and the Irish to a more precise observance of the Romish ceremonies.
Troubles, however, awaited the church in England. Ethelbert died, and his son Eadbald returned to paganism. Three sons of the king of the East Saxons also returned to paganism. These refused to be baptized, and yet in bravado demanded the Lord's supper. Mellitus, bishop of London, refused them; whereupon he was threatened, but was told that he might depart. He consulted with Justus, bishop of Rochester, and Laurentius; and not wishing to be made martyrs, the two former returned to France, leaving Laurentius only.
Laurentius also resolved to depart; but while passing the last night in church, it is said, he was visited by St. Peter, and rebuked for entertaining the thought of forsaking his flock, and, more than that, the apostle administered so sound a whipping that it left him black and blue!
He went to Eadbald, and threw off his cloak, showing the marks of his punishment. The king was amazed, and demanded who had dared to chastise so holy a man. The tale was told as above, and this had such an effect on the king that he embraced Christianity. Justus and Mellitus were invited to return. The reader, perhaps, need not be told that it became a ready trick of the monks, when they wanted to prove that they had had a visit from some departed saint, to shew some part of their body still black and blue with the whipping they said they had received from the saint; but this eventually became too common to be believed even by the most devoted Romanist.
Edwin, king of Northumberland, was also converted to Christianity—by a miracle, according to the early historians. Edwin, who had long been a fugitive, took refuge with Redwald king of East Anglia. But his retreat being discovered, Edilfrid, who reigned in Northumberland, demanded his being given up to him. Edwin was exhorted to fly for his life; but he was so tired of fleeing from place to place, that he declared he would not stir though death might await him. He sat in a lonely spot while his fate was being deliberated on. While here, a stranger visited him, and asked what returns he would give if all his wishes were gratified. He declared that he would take that one for his guide who should bring about his restoration to the throne, power, &c. The stranger placed his hand on Edwin's head, and said, "When this sign shall come upon thee, remember this time and the promise thou hast made." And the stranger vanished in a way that led Edwin to believe it was a spirit who had visited him.
Redwald refused to give up his guest. War was the result, but Edilfrid was defeated, and Edwin was placed on the throne—but remained a pagan. He married Ethelberga, daughter of the late Ethelbert. As she was a Christian princess, he promised her liberty to make full profession of her religion, and he would embrace the same if he should find on examination it was worthy of adoption. He made promises from time to time, but remained a pagan until one day, Paulinus, a Romish priest who had accompanied Ethelberga, entered his chamber, and placing his hand on his head, asked him if he remembered the time and the promises that had been given to the heavenly visitor. The king fell at his feet, completely conquered. He and thousands of his subjects became Christians. Such is the account given by Bede, and it is now impossible to sort out the true history from that which is mere fable.
In the year 633, Edwin was defeated and slain by Penda, prince of Mercia, and the Northumbrians to a great extent returned to paganism, and Paulinus retired into Kent. Oswald, however, succeeded, and restored Christianity to some extent, by aid of Aidan, a monk from lona.
Eventually all the divisions of the kingdom embraced Christianity, and Theodore was consecrated archbishop of Canterbury and primate of all England. The attempt, however, to have uniformity everywhere did not succeed. Again the disputes arose as to keeping Easter; and also as to the shaving of the head, called the tonsure. This, indeed, was not uniform in the East and West, and Theodore, who came from the East, had to wait after his appointment four months that his head might be shaved in an orthodox fashion—that of Rome!
A council was called at Whitby by Oswy, king of Northumberland, to settle these disputes. The Romish clergy repeated the worn-out plea that Rome must be right, for the church of Rome had been founded by Peter, and to Peter had been committed the keys of the kingdom. Oswy asked if the giving of the keys to Peter was admitted by the British. They acknowledged that it was true. Then he declared that he must decide for Rome, lest perhaps when he came to the gates of heaven there would be none other there who could admit him!
The British bishops, though silenced, were in no way convinced, and, distressed by the arrogance of the Romish clergy, some resolved to quit the country. Colman and others returned to Ireland.
Iona had long been a seat of learning and of Christianity, from whence missionaries were sent to various parts.
The historian Bede regrets—but which was really an advantage—that these British Christians were ignorant of the decrees of councils, and diligently observed no other works of piety and purity than what they could learn in the prophets, the gospels, and apostolic epistles.
They did not make a gain of godliness, nor set a price upon every act of devotion. Nor did they confine their ministrations to consecrated walls, but, like the apostles, preached and exhorted from village to village, and from house to house.
Those who remained in England gradually conformed to Rome and its doctrines, to the great loss of that simplicity and devotedness taught and practiced by the missionaries from Iona.
The church in England became rich, by kings and wealthy persons making over to the church their property, to insure the favour of heaven. Corruption rapidly followed, and monasteries and nunneries became the seats of debauchery. In the council of Cloveshoo, in 747, it was ordered that monasteries should not be turned into places of amusement "for harpers and buffoons." It is recorded that many nobles became abbots, that they might lead easy and jolly lives with companions like themselves.
The invasions of the Danes came at the close of the eighth century, and punished many a dissolute abbot and his monks by death, laying the place of their abode in ruins over them. King Alfred mourned over these desolations.
The renowned Dunstan was born in the year 925, and miracles were not wanting to mark him out as one highly honored of heaven, according to the historians—miracles, indeed, that cannot now be believed and need not be repeated. He was offered various bishoprics, but declined them, evidently hoping for some higher station; though he said he was visited by St. Peter and St. Paul, and flogged by St. Andrew for rejecting their apostolic society.
He was accused of dishonesty in managing the royal revenues, and had to fly from England, and narrowly escaped his pursuers.
In A.D. 960, on the death of archbishop Odo, Dunstan succeeded. Being supported by king Edgar, he proceeded to carry out his reforms, as he called them. One was that all the clergy should put away their wives, or resign their offices. Some who chose the latter were described as monsters of wickedness! All canons were ordered to become monks.
Miracles, so-called, were resorted to in order to force the clergy to submit to Dunstan. A synod was held at Winchester in the year 977, when the canons who refused to become monks hoped to get the Archbishop to rescind his order. To their astonishment, a crucifix in the wall was heard to exclaim, "Do it not! do it not! you have judged well, and you would do ill to change it." This had but little effect on the canons, who knew too much to be thus deceived, and they would not yield. Dunstan had to resort to harsher measures.
Another synod was held at Calne, and a Scotch bishop named Boernelm was chosen as spokesman for the clergy. Dunstan was pressed by the arguments used, but exclaimed, "I am now growing old, and you endeavor to overcome me. I am more disposed to silence than contention. I confess I am unwilling that you should vanquish me; and to Christ Himself as judge I commit the cause of His church." At these words, the part of the floor on which, his opponents stood, gave way and fell, hurting many and killing some, while the other part of the floor stood firm! Who can doubt that this was a diabolical mode of enforcing the will of the archbishop against the desires of the clergy? Dunstan died in A.D. 988.
Here we must leave for the present our sketch of the church in England. Rome had established its dogmas here, with its various corruptions. Penances were imposed on sinners, but the culprit could buy exemptions at a market value: thus a year's fasting could be bought for thirty shillings paid to the church, and sinning became a mere trifle, especially to the rich.
Little is known of the religion in Scotland during this period. The church there is generally believed to have been less under the influence of Rome and to have been purer; but forms and ceremonies made up so much of religion that any deviation from Rome was counted a schism. Margaret, the Anglo-Saxon queen of Malcolm Canmore, was shocked, on going to Scotland, at the differences she saw, and used the influence of her husband to ensure conformity to the ritual of Rome.
Thus was England fast sinking under the thraldom of Rome, with all its high pretensions, and its traditions of men, coupled with its soul-deceiving way of salvation, and the very lowest scale of morality. The dark ages had then set in, but how strange that any Christian should still be entangled in the snares and devices of Rome, now that the dark ages are supposed to have passed!