A Short History of Monks and Monasteries written by Alfred Wesley Wishart

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"Do you think," he says, "there is no difference between one who spends
her time in prayer and fasting, and one who must, at her husband's
approach, make up her countenance, walk with a mincing gait, and feign a
show of endearment? The virgin aims to appear less comely; she will
wrong herself so as to hide her natural attractions. The married woman
has the paint laid on before her mirror, and, to the insult of her
Maker, strives to acquire something more than her natural beauty. Then
come the prattling of infants, the noisy household, children watching
for her word and waiting for her kiss, the reckoning up of expenses, the
preparation to meet the outlay. On one side you will see a company of
cooks, girded for the onslaught and attacking the meat; there you may
hear the hum of a multitude of weavers. Meanwhile a message is delivered
that her husband and his friends have arrived. The wife, like a swallow,
flies all over the house. She has to see to everything. Is the sofa
smooth? Is the pavement swept? Are the flowers in the cup? Is dinner
ready? Tell me, pray, amid all this, is there room for the thought
of God?"

Such was Roman married life as it appeared to Jerome. The very duties
and blessings that we consider the glory of the family he despised. I
will return to his views later, but it is interesting to note the
absence at this period, of the modern and true idea that God may be
served in the performance of household and other secular duties. Women
fled from such occupations in those days that they might be religious.
The disagreeable fact of Peter's marriage was overcome by the assertion
that he must have washed away the stain of his married life by the blood
of his martyrdom. Such extreme views arose partly as a reaction from and
a protest against the dominant corruption, a state of affairs in which
happy and holy marriages were rare.

_The Spread of Monasticism in Europe_

Much more might be said of monastic life in Rome, were it not now
necessary to treat of the spread of monasticism in Europe. There are
many noble characters whom we ought to know, such as Ambrose, one of
Christendom's greatest bishops, who led a life of poverty and strict
abstinence, like his sister Marcella, whom we have met. He it was, of
whom the Emperor Theodosius said: "I have met a man who has told me the
truth." Well might he so declare, for Ambrose refused him admission to
the church at Milan, because his hands were red with the blood of the
murdered, and succeeded in persuading him to submit to discipline. To
Ambrose may be applied the words which Gibbon wrote of Gregory
Nazianzen: "The title of Saint has been added to his name, but the
tenderness of his heart and the elegance of his genius reflect a more
pleasing luster on his memory."

The story of John, surnamed Chrysostom, who was born at Antioch, in 347,
is exceedingly interesting. He was a young lawyer, who entered the
priesthood after his baptism. He at once set his heart on the monastic
life, but his mother took him to her chamber, and, by the bed where she
had given him birth, besought him in fear, not to forsake her. "My son,"
she said in substance, "my only comfort in the midst of the miseries of
this earthly life is to see thee constantly, and to behold in thy traits
the faithful image of my beloved husband, who is no more. When you have
buried me and joined my ashes with those of your father, nothing will
then prevent you from retiring into the monastic life. But so long as I
breathe, support me by your presence, and do not draw down upon you the
wrath of God by bringing such evils upon me who have given you no
offence." This singularly tender petition was granted, but Chrysostom
turned his home into a monastery, slept on the bare floor, ate little
and seldom, and prayed much by day and by night.

After his mother's death Chrysostom enjoyed the seclusion of a monastic
solitude for six years, but impairing his health by excessive
self-mortification he returned to Antioch in 380. He rapidly rose to a
position of commanding influence in the church. His peerless oratorical
and literary gifts were employed in elevating the ascetic ideal and in
unsparing denunciations of the worldly religion of the imperial court.
He incurred the furious hatred of the young and beautiful Empress
Eudoxia, who united her influence with that of the ambitious Theophilus,
patriarch of Alexandria, and Chrysostom was banished from
Constantinople, but died on his way to the remote desert of Pityus. His
powerful sermons and valuable writings contributed in no small degree to
the spread of monasticism among the Christians of his time.

Then there was Augustine, the greatest thinker since Plato. "We shall
meet him," says Schaff, "alike on the broad highways and the narrow
foot-paths, on the giddy Alpine heights and in the awful depths of
speculation, wherever philosophical thinkers before him or after him
have trod." He, too, like all the other leaders of thought in his time,
was ascetic in his habits. Although he lived and labored for
thirty-eight years at Hippo, a Numidian city about two hundred miles
west of Carthage, in Africa, Augustine was regarded as the intellectual
head not only of North Africa but of Western Christianity. He gathered
his clergy into a college of priests, with a community of goods, thus
approaching as closely to the regular monastic life as was possible to
secular clergymen. He established religious houses and wrote a set of
rules, consisting of twenty-four articles, for the government of
monasteries. These rules were superseded by those of Benedict, but they
were resuscitated under Charlemagne and reappeared in the famous Austin
Canons of the eleventh century. Little did Augustine think that a
thousand years later an Augustinian monk--Luther--would abandon his
order to become the founder of modern Protestantism.

Augustine published a celebrated essay,--"On the Labor of Monks,"--in
which he pointed out the dangers of monachism, condemned its abuses, and
ended by sighing for the quiet life of the monk who divided his day
between labor, reading and prayer, whilst he himself spent his years
amid the noisy throng and the perplexities of his episcopate.

These men, and many others, did much to further monasticism. But we must
now leave sunny Africa and journey northward through Gaul into the land
of the hardy Britons and Scots.

Athanasius, the same weary exile whom we have encountered in Egypt and
in Rome, had been banished by Constantine to Treves, in 336. In 346 and
349 he again visited Gaul. He told the same story of Anthony and the
Egyptian hermits with similar results.

The most renowned ecclesiastic of the Gallican church, whose name is
most intimately associated with the spread of monasticism in Western
Europe, before the days of Benedict, was Saint Martin of Tours. He lived
about the years 316-396 A.D. The chronicle of his life is by no means
trustworthy, but that is essential neither to popularity nor saintship.
Only let a Severus describe his life and miracles in glowing rhetoric
and fantastic legend and the people will believe it, pronouncing him
greatest among the great, the mightiest miracle-worker of that
miracle-working age.

Martin was a soldier three years, against his will, under Constantine.
One bleak winter day he cut his white military coat in two with his
sword and clothed a beggar with half of it. That night he heard Jesus
address the angels: "Martin, as yet only a catechumen has clothed me
with his garment." After leaving the army he became a hermit, and,
subsequently, bishop of Tours. He lived for years just outside of Tours
in a cell made of interlaced branches. His monks dwelt around him in
caves cut out of scarped rocks, overlooking a beautiful stream. They
were clad in camel's hair and lived on a diet of brown bread, sleeping
on a straw couch.

But Martin's monks did not take altogether kindly to their mode of life.
Severus records an amusing story of their rebellion against the meager
allowance of food. The Egyptian could exist on a few figs a day. But
these rude Gauls, just emerging out of barbarism, were accustomed to
devour great slices of roasted meat and to drink deep draughts of beer.
Such sturdy children of the northern forests naturally disdained dainty
morsels of barley bread and small potations of wine. True, Athanasius
had said, "Fasting is the food of angels," but these ascetic novices, in
their perplexity, could only say: "We are accused of gluttony; but we
are Gauls; it is ridiculous and cruel to make us live like angels; we
are not angels; once more, we are only Gauls." Their complaint comes
down to us as a pathetic but humorous protest of common sense against
ascetic fanaticism; or, regarded in another light, it may be considered
as additional evidence of the depravity of the natural man.

In spite of all complaints, however, Martin did not abate the severity
of his discipline. As a bishop he pushed his monastic system into all
the surrounding country. His zeal knew no bounds, and his strength
seemed inexhaustible. "No one ever saw him either gloomy or merry,"
remarks his biographer. Amid many embarrassments and difficulties he was
ever the same, with a countenance full of heavenly serenity. He was a
great miracle-worker--that is, if everything recorded of him is true. He
cast out demons, and healed the sick; he had strange visions of angels
and demons, and, wonderful to relate, thrice he raised bodies from
the dead.

But all conquerors are at last vanquished by the angel of death, and
Martin passed into the company of the heavenly host and the category of
saints. Two thousand monks attended his funeral. His fame spread all
over Europe. Tradition tells us he was the uncle of Saint Patrick of
Ireland. Churches were dedicated to him in France, Germany, Scotland and
England. The festival of his birth is celebrated on the eleventh of
November. In Scotland this day still marks the winter term, which is
called Martinmas. Saint Martin's shrine was one of the most famous of
the middle ages, and was noted for its wonderful cures. No saint is
held, even now, in higher veneration by the French Catholic.

It is not known when the institution was planted in Spain, but in 380
the council of Saragossa forbade priests to assume monkish habits.
Germany received the institution 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 entitle 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 institution 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
passed 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 shipwreck." He then goes on to declare
that a young and rich friend, impelled by the furies, had fled from men
and gods 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 God 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 passions of the world. The mysterious
sound of waves mingles with the chant of hymns; and, while the waters
break upon the shores 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 worship of
saints and relics, and believed that one might retain possession of his
property and make good use of it. He assailed the dissolute monks and
claimed that many of Rome's noblest young men and women were withdrawn
from a life of usefulness into the desert. He held that there was really
but one class 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 God." 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 institution 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 institution 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 shine 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 Romanus,--the
spot is marked by the chapel of Santa Crocella,--who gave him a
haircloth shirt and a monastic dress of skins. Continuing his journey
with Romanus, 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
Romanus 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 Godric,
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 titillations of
desire. In this manner, varied by occasionally passing 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 compass 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 Cassino. 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
illustrious. 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 noble 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 Cassino, which was to shine 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 Cassino is located three and a half miles to the northeast of the
town of Cassino, 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
passed 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.
From its mountain crag it has seen Goths, Lombards, Saracens, Normans,
Frenchmen, Spaniards, Germans, scour and devastate the land which,
through all modern history, has attracted every invader."

It was enriched by popes, emperors and princes. In its palmy days the
abbot was the first baron in the realm, and commanded over four hundred
towns and villages. In 1866, it shared the fate of all the monasteries
of Italy. It still stands upon the summit of the mountain, and can be
seen by the traveler from the railway in the valley. At present it
serves as a Catholic seminary with about two hundred students. It
contains a spacious church, richly ornamented with marble, mosaics and
paintings. It has also a famous library which, in spite of bad usage, is
still immensely valuable. Boccaccio made a visit to the place, and when
he saw the precious books so vilely mutilated, he departed in tears,
exclaiming: "Now, therefore, O scholar, rack thy brains in the making of
books!" The library contains about twenty thousand volumes, and about
thirty-five thousand popes' bulls, diplomas and charters. There are also
about a thousand manuscripts, some of which are of priceless value, as
they date from the sixth century downward, and consist of ancient
Bibles and important medieval literature.

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