Convulsions of the Sixth Century.—?Corruption of the Church.—?The Rise of Monasteries.—?Rivalry between Rome and Constantinople.—?Mohammed and his Career.—?His Personal Appearance.—?His System of Religion.—?His Death.—?Military Expeditions of the Moslems.—?The Threatened Conquest of Europe.—?Capture of Alexandria.—?Burning of the Library.—?Rise of the Feudal System.—?Charlemagne.—?Barbarian Antagonism to Christianity.

HE sixth century of the Christian era passed away like a hideous dream of the night. Wave after wave of barbaric invasion swept over Europe and Asia. Rome was sacked five times, in the endurance of violence and woes which no pen can describe. Paganism was overthrown; but gradually Christianity became paganized. Still, corrupt as Christianity became, it was an immense improvement over the ancient systems of idolatry. The past narrative has given the reader some faint idea of what morals were under the old Roman emperors. The depravity of man, vanquished in its endeavor to uphold idolatry, with all its polluting rites, endeavored to degrade Christianity into a mere system of dead doctrines and pompous ceremonies. In this it partially succeeded; but it was utterly impossible to sink Christianity to a level with paganism.

The disordered state of the times had swept the rural population from the fields, and they were huddled together for protection in the villages and walled cities. Immense tracts of land all over Europe were left waste. Herds of cattle grazed over these desolate expanses, guarded by armed serfs, who watched them by day, and slept in the fields by their side at night. Slavery was universally practised, the conqueror almost invariably enslaving the conquered. Hence labor became degrading: none but slaves would work. It was gentlemanly, it was chivalric, to obtain wealth by pillage: it was vulgar, boorish, entirely derogatory to all dignity, to move a finger in honest industry. The highest offices of the Church were often assigned by unprincipled kings and princes to their worthless favorites. Marauding bands, not unfrequently led by these false bishops, often fell upon the flocks grazing in the fields, slaughtered the herdsmen, and drove off the herd.

A very zealous and enlightened Christian, by the name of Benedict, endeavored to counteract this ruinous spirit of the times: he formed a society quite similar in its organization to our temperance associations. This body of reformers soon assumed the name of Monks of St.Benedict. For protection against the marauding bands which were ever abroad upon expeditions of plunder, they built a massive, strongly-fortified castle, which they called a monastery, to which the industrious community could retreat when assailed.

“Beware of idleness,” said this noble Christian man, “as the great enemy of the soul. No person is more usefully employed than when working with his hands, or following the plough.”

This was the origin essentially of many of the monasteries of Europe: they were noble institutions in their design, and thousands of Christians breathing the spirit of Christ found within their enclosures peaceful and useful lives when the billows of anarchy were surging over nearly all other portions of the globe. But that innate proneness to wickedness, which seems everywhere to reign, gradually perverted those once holy and industrious communities into institutions of indolence and sin. Wherever the monastery arose, there originally waved around it fields of grain, and fat cattle grazed in the meadows. Prayer and labor, faith and works, were combined, as they ever should be. The ruins of these monastic edifices still occupy the most enchanting spots in Europe: they were usually reared upon some eminence which commanded an extensive prospect; or in some sheltered nook, by the banks of a beautiful stream. The eye of taste is invariably charmed in visiting these localities. The pristine monks were a noble set of men; and, for ages, learning and piety were sheltered in the cloisters which their diligent hands had reared.

The modern tourist, witnessing the worldly wisdom evidenced in their whole plan, and conscious that there is no longer occasion for such institutions, forgets the necessities of the rude days in which they were constructed, and is too apt sneeringly to exclaim,—

“Ah! those shrewd old monks had a keen eye to creature-comforts. They loved the banks of the well-filled stream sparkling with salmon and trout: they sought out luxuriant meadows, where their herds could roll in fatness amidst the exuberant verdure; or the wooded hills, where the red deer could bound through the glade, and snowy flocks could graze, and yellow harvests, sheltered from the northern winds, could ripen in the sun.”

Indeed they did. This was all right,—Christian in the highest degree. “Godliness is profitable unto all things.” “The hand of the diligent maketh rich.” The prior of the monastery was not a despot revelling in the toil of others: he was the father of the household; he was the head workman, accompanying his brethren to the field of honest toil and remunerative industry.

Benedict, usually called St.Benedict, early in the sixth century established a monastery, which subsequently attained great celebrity, upon the side of Mount Cassano, near Naples. None were admitted to it but men of pure lives, and who had established a reputation for such amiability of character as would insure their living harmoniously with the other brethren. It became the home of piety, industry, and temperance: the persecuted sought refuge there; scholars sought a retreat there; missionaries went out from it into the wastes which war and vice had desolated.

The cloistered convent may with some propriety be called a divine institution: it was the creation of necessity. But, in the lapse of ages, royal gifts and the legacies of the dying endowed many of them with great wealth. Opulence induced indolence, till these cradles of piety became the strong fortresses of iniquity; and modern Christianity has been compelled to frown them down.

From the commencement of these institutions, during a period of five hundred years, until the tenth century, many of these monasteries exerted a beneficent and noble influence. Christianity had begun to break the fetters of the slave; these freedmen, the emancipated slaves, were placed under the protection of the clergy; and they often found shelter from oppression within sacred walls which secular violence did not dare to profane. These convents were for ages the only post-offices in the country. Few could read but the higher clergy. It is said even of the Emperor Charlemagne, that he could not write, and that his signature to any document consisted of his dipping his hand in a bowl of red ink, and then impressing the broad palm upon the parchment. There were but few letters passed, save those conveying some important state intelligence. These documents were rapidly transferred by the brethren from one convent to another. For many centuries, the monks were better informed than almost any other persons of what was transpiring throughout Europe and Asia.

The warriors were men of muscle only, not of cultivated mind. Intelligence is always a power: hence the Church rapidly gained ascendency over the State, and the mitred bishop took the precedence of the helmed warrior. The bishops, or pastors, of the large churches in the metropolitan cities, had then, as now, distinction above the rural clergy. Constantinople, outstripping decaying Rome, had become the chief city of the world in population and splendor. Rome, proud of her ancient renown, regarded her young rival very much as an old, aristocratic, decaying family regards some successful adventurer of lowly birth who has newly become rich.

There was strong rivalry between the bishops of these two renowned cities, each struggling for the pre-eminence. The Bishop of Rome gradually assumed the title of Papa, or Pope. Indeed, in the first century, all the bishops in the East were entitled Pope, or Father. Subsequently, in the fifth century, the Bishop of Constantinople took the title of Patriarch. The strife eventuated in a division between the Greek and Roman churches. The Pope at Rome took the Western churches, and the Patriarch at Constantinople the Eastern. Swaying the sceptre of spiritual power, both of these ecclesiastics gradually grasped temporal power also. Christianity was virtually banished from the Church, though there were here and there devoted pastors; and thousands of Christians, some of them even in the highest walks of life, were, with prayers and tears, struggling, through the almost universal corruption, in the path to heaven. Both the Grecian and the Roman hierarchies became mainly but ambitious political organizations, ministering to pride and luxury and splendor. There were some good popes, as there have been good kings; and many bad popes, as there have been bad kings.

It was near the close of the sixth century that Mohammed commenced his marvellous career. Whether this extraordinary man were a self-deceived enthusiast, or a designing impostor, is a question which will probably ever be discussed, and never settled.

Born of wealthy parents in the city of Mecca, in the interior of Arabia, about the year 569, he, when a lad of but thirteen years of age, travelled to Syria on a commercial expedition. Here he was entertained in one of the Christian monasteries,—almost the only resort of travellers in those days. One of the fathers, perceiving in him indications of genius, paid him marked attention, and probably made strenuous exertions to secure his conversion, not only to Christianity, but to the superstitious observances which had grown up around the pure religion of Jesus.

All great men are of a pensive temperament: the tremendous mystery of human life oppresses them. Young Mohammed was thoughtful, contemplative, with a tinge of melancholy pervading his whole character. It is evident that he was much impressed by the scenes which he had witnessed and the instructions he had received in the convent; for he formed the habit of retiring every year to the Cave of Hera, about three miles from Mecca. Here, in a natural cloister, he annually spent a month in solitude, meditation, and prayer.

In the seclusion and silence of these hours he conceived and matured his plan for the establishment of a new religion. There were still remnants of the ancient idolatry all around him: and, in his view, idolatry had crept into the Christian Church; for statues of the saints filled the niches of the great cathedrals, and image-worship in churches and convents had become almost universal. The reflections of Mohammed upon this subject must have been profound and long-continued; for he was forty years of age before he commenced active operations in that enterprise which has given him world-wide renown.

Mohammed affirmed, that, in his cave, he held interviews with the angel Gabriel, who had inspired him, as the apostles were inspired, to proclaim a new and purer religion. He assumed that the Jewish religion was from God, but that its end was accomplished; that Christianity was true, a divine revelation, but that, having fulfilled the purpose for which it was proclaimed, it was now also to pass away, and give place to a third and final revelation, which God had revealed to Mohammed, his prophet, and which, as the perfection of divine wisdom, was to endure forever.

The first disciple he gained was his wife; then some of his relatives and a few neighbors avowed their faith in his divine mission. But progress was very slow. At the close of ten years of tireless perseverance, but very few could be counted among his followers. Then, quite suddenly, converts began to multiply; and he gave them a military organization, boldly declaring that he was divinely empowered to put any one to death who should reject his claims, and that the property of such unbelievers was to be divided among the faithful. The world was just in the situation for a fanatic band of desperate marauders successfully to commence their march. The prospect of booty brought thousands of the vagabonds of Asia to his standard. His first exploit was the capture of a rich caravan, which greatly elated and enriched his followers, and extended his fame. At length, he encountered governmental resistance. His little army was utterly routed; and Mohammed fled, wounded and bleeding, from the field. Though the repulse seemed for a short time to shake the faith of his followers, he soon rallied them by the assurance that it was in consequence of their sins that God had given them this transient reverse, but that God had promised that all who were slain in his battles should be immediately translated to a paradise of exquisite and eternal bliss.

Crowds flocked to his camp. New battles were fought, and victories won. His disciples became rich and exultant. His religion, consisting mainly of outward forms, was as easy of practice as any part of the military drill. He was soon at the head of ten thousand soldiers inspired with all the ferocity which religious fanaticism could engender. The number rapidly increased to thirty thousand. No power could be brought into the field to resist him. Nearly all Arabia, ignorant, religionless, and greedy of plunder, enlisted under a banner which brought its followers fame, adventure, and wealth. It is no longer to be wondered at that Mohammed by these means eventually found himself at the head of a hundred and fifty thousand of the fiercest warriors earth had ever known. To the pagans, one religion was as good as another. To exchange religions was like exchanging garments. It was comparatively easy to make proselytes among a barbarian people who had no settled convictions of truth, and to whom there could be offered the most attractive of temporal as well as eternal rewards.

Gibbon gives the following account of the personal appearance and intellectual endowments of this wonderful man:—

“According to the traditions of his companions, Mohammed was distinguished by the beauty of his person. Before he spoke, the orator engaged on his side the affections of a public or a private audience: they applauded his commanding presence, his majestic aspect, his piercing eye, his gracious smile, his flowing beard, his countenance that painted every sensation of the soul, and his gestures that enforced each expression of the tongue.

“In the familiar offices of life, he scrupulously adhered to the grave and ceremonious politeness of his country. His respectful attention to the rich and powerful was dignified by his condescension and affability to the poorest citizens of Mecca. The frankness of his manners concealed the artifice of his views; and the habits of courtesy were imputed to personal friendship or universal benevolence. His memory was capacious and retentive, his wit easy and social, his imagination sublime, his judgment clear, rapid, and decisive.

“He possessed the courage both of thought and action; and, although his designs might gradually expand with his success, the first idea he entertained of his divine mission bears the stamp of an original and superior genius. The son of Abdallah was educated in the bosom of the noblest race, in the use of the purest dialect; and the fluency of his speech was corrected and enhanced by the practice of discreet and seasonable silence. With these powers of eloquence, Mohammed was an illiterate barbarian. His youth had never been instructed in the arts of reading and writing. The common ignorance exempted him from shame and reproach; but he was reduced to a narrow circle of existence, and deprived of those faithful mirrors which reflect to our mind the minds of sages and heroes.”

Mohammed, like Emanuel Swedenborg, accepted both the Old and New Testament as of divine origin. He professed the most profound respect for both Moses and Jesus Christ as prophets sent from God. “Verily Christ Jesus,” writes Mohammed, “the son of Mary, is the Apostle of God, and his Word, which he conveyed unto Mary, and a Spirit proceeding from him, honorable in this world and in the world to come, and one of those who approach near to the presence of God.”198

Our Saviour had promised, that, after his departure from this world, he would send the Paraclete, or Holy Ghost, as a guide and comforter to his disciples. “But when the Comforter is come, whom Iwill send unto you from the Father, the Spirit of truth, which proceedeth from the Father, he shall testify of me.”199 Mohammed assumed that he was this divinely-commissioned Comforter. The Koran was produced in fragments to meet emergencies; and it was not until two years after the death of Mohammed that these fragments were collected in a single volume. This Koran is one of the most stupid of books, full of incoherent rhapsody and turgid declamation, from which it is difficult to extract a sentiment or an idea. Very few men in Christendom have found patience to read it.

Mohammed at first imposed upon his disciples the daily obligation of fifty prayers. Finding this too onerous to be borne, he diminished the number to five, which were to be performed daily, regardless of any engagements or any surroundings. These seasons of prayer were at daybreak, at noon, in the middle of the afternoon, in the evening, and at the first watch of the night. His precepts of morality were drawn from the Old and New Testaments. Friday was appointed as the Mohammedan sabbath, and vigorous fasts were enforced. All intoxicating drinks were positively interdicted. The Mussulman was enjoined to consecrate one-tenth of his income to charitable purposes. The doctrines of the resurrection and the final judgment were maintained.

“The sword,” says Mohammed, “is the key of heaven and of hell. Adrop of blood shed in the cause of God, or a night spent in arms, is of more avail than two months of fasting or prayer. Whoever falls in battle, his sins are forgiven. At the day of judgment his wounds shall be resplendent as vermilion, and odoriferous as musk; and the loss of his limbs shall be supplied with the wings of angels and cherubim.”

This remarkable man died on the 7th of June, 632. His character was by no means blameless when judged by the standard of Christianity. Whenever he wished to indulge in any crime, he could easily find a fresh revelation authorizing him to do so. Major Price, after the most careful examination of documentary evidence, speaks as follows of his death:—

“In tracing the circumstances of Mohammed’s sickness, we look in vain for any proofs of that meek and heroic firmness which might be expected to dignify and embellish the last moments of the apostle of God. On some occasions he betrayed such want of fortitude, such marks of childish impatience, as are in general to be found in men only of the most ordinary stamp; and such as extorted from his wife Ayesha, in particular, the sarcastic remark, that, in herself or any of her family, a similar demeanor would long since have incurred his severe displeasure. He said that the acuteness and violence of his sufferings were necessarily in the proportion of those honors with which it had ever pleased the hand of Omnipotence to distinguish its peculiar favorites.”200

Immediately after the death of Mohammed, his disciples pushed their conquests with amazing energy. In the course of a few centuries, they overran all of Egypt and of Asia Minor, and established the most stern and unrelenting despotism earth has ever known. Their military organization and prowess were such, that they could bring into the field a more powerful army than any other nation.

They crossed the Bosphorus into Europe, and stormed Christian Constantinople with six hundred vessels of war and an army of three hundred thousand troops. Sixty thousand of the inhabitants of Constantinople were massacred in cold blood. The Christian maidens were dragged shrieking into the Moslem harems. The boys of tender age were compelled, under the blows of the scourge and of the cimeter, to adopt the religion of the Prophet, and to enlist under his banner. Thus the whole Eastern or Greek empire was soon blotted out. The crescent of Mohammed supplanted the cross of Christ over all the towers of the imperial city. The head of the Christian was crushed by the heel of the Turk.

The conqueror, assuming the title of Mohammed II., prepared to invade Italy. It was his boast that he would feed his horse from the altar of St.Peter’s, in Rome. He crossed the Adriatic, took Otranto, and was in the onward career of victory, with every prospect of annexing Italy to the Mohammedan empire, when he died. There was then a short respite for imperilled Christendom. But soon the flood of Mohammedan invasion rolled up the Danube in surges of flame and blood. Year after year, and generation after generation, the valley of this majestic stream was but a constant battle-field, where Christian and Moslem grappled each other in the death-struggle.

One of these marches up the Danube is worthy of more minute record. It was leafy June: luxuriant foliage and gorgeous flowers decorated the banks of the river with loveliness which attracted the admiration even of semi-barbarian eyes. The turbulent host, counting within its ranks two hundred and fifty thousand veteran warriors, for many days sauntered joyously along, encountering no foe. War seemed but the pastime of a festival-day. Banners floated gayly in the breeze; music enlivened the march. Arabian chargers pranced proudly beneath their riders, glittering in Oriental gorgeousness of costume. Afleet of gayly-decorated barges filled the stream, impelled by sails when the wind favored, and urged by rowers when the winds were adverse.

Each night, upon some smooth expanse of the river’s banks, the white tents of the invaders were spread, and a city of nearly two hundred thousand inhabitants rose as by magic, with its grassy streets and squares, its busy population, its trumpet-peals from martial bands, and its bannered magnificence blazing in all the regalia of war. Like a fairy vision the city rose in the rays of the declining sun; and like a vision it disappeared in the early dawn of the morning, and the mighty host moved on.

But the black day came. The Turks had ascended the river about a hundred and fifty miles, when they came to a small island called Zigeth. It was strongly fortified, and commanded both banks of the stream. Not another mile could the Moslems advance till this fortress was battered down. Zrini, the heroic Christian commander, and his whole garrison of six thousand men, took an oath that they would surrender the post only with their lives.

Day and night, week after week, the assault continued unintermitted. The besieged, with guns in battery to sweep all approaches, mowed down their assailants with awful carnage; but bastion after bastion was crumbled by the tremendous cannonade of the Moslems: the walls of solid masonry were battered down till they presented but a shapeless pile of rocks. The Turks, reckless of life, like swarming bees swept over the smouldering ruins. They had apparently cut down every inmate of the fort; and, with shouts of victory, were raising the crescent over the blackened and blood-stained rocks, when there was an earthquake roar, and an explosion almost as appalling as the thunders of the archangel’s trump.

Zrini had fired the subterranean vaults containing thousands of kegs of powder. The whole citadel—men, horses, rocks, and artillery—was thrown into the air, and fell a commingled mass of ruin, fire, and blood. The Turks, having lost their leader and a large part of their army, retreated, exhausted and bleeding, but only to gather strength to renew the strife.

Thus year after year these Moslem assaults were continued. Such were the measures the Turks used to convert Europe to Mohammedanism; such were the persuasions urged by the missionaries of the Koran. Shortly after this, the banners of the advance-guard of the Turkish army were seen even from the steeples of Vienna: the majestic host invested the city on all sides.

The renowned John Zobieski, King of Poland, came to the rescue with sixty thousand men. Uniting with the German troops, the combined army fell upon the invaders with almost frenzied courage, utterly routed them, and drove them in wild disorder back to Belgrade. Still, through years of blood and woe, these Moslem assaults were continued. The conquering armies of the Prophet took all of Asia, Egypt, Africa, and Greece. They crossed the Straits of Gibraltar from Africa into Spain, overran the whole Spanish Peninsula, and hung like a black cloud upon the northern cliffs of the Pyrenees, threatening the provinces of France. They swept both banks of the Danube to the walls of Vienna. The Austrian royal family fled at midnight. It seemed inevitable that all Europe was to be overrun by the Moslems, and that all Christendom was to be cut down beneath their bloody cimeters.

This conflict of Mohammedanism against Christianity continued for five centuries. At one time, the Austrian ambassador at Constantinople wrote to the Emperor Ferdinand in Vienna,—

“When I compare the power of the Turks with our own, the consideration fills me with dismay. Isee not how we can resist the destruction which awaits us. They possess great wealth, strength unbroken, a perfect knowledge of the arts of war, patience, union, order, frugality, and a constant state of preparation.

“On our side are exhausted finances and universal luxury. Our national spirit is broken by mutinous soldiers, mercenary officers, licentiousness, intemperance, and a total contempt of military discipline. Is it possible to doubt how such an unequal conflict must terminate? The all-conquering Mussulmans will soon rush with undivided strength, and overwhelm all Europe as well as Germany.”

Such was the career and the final menaces of Mohammedanism. But the Church is safe: God interposed by his resistless providences. Mohammedanism, everywhere on the wane, exists now only through the toleration of the Christian powers: it is ere long to be buried in the same grave in which the paganism of Greece and Rome lies mouldering in the dust. One foe after another Satan has been marshalling against Christianity; but ever, though sometimes after a strife truly terrific, Christianity has come off the victor. Eighteen centuries have rolled away since the death of Christ; but never was Christianity so vigorous and efficient a power in the world as now.

Mohammed himself ever remembered the kindness he had received in the Syrian convent. He left it as one of the injunctions of the Koran,—

“Respect all religious persons who live in hermitages or convents, and spare their edifices; but, should you meet other unbelievers in the Prophet, be sure you cleave their skulls unless they embrace the true faith.”

The capture of Alexandria by the Mohammedans is one of the most renowned events, and apparently one of the greatest calamities, of past ages. The magnificent city, the capital of Egypt, possessed almost fabulous wealth. It contained four thousand palaces, five thousand baths, and four hundred theatres. Its library surpassed all others in the world in the number and value of its manuscripts. The Moslem general who had captured the city wrote to his superior at Bagdad, inquiring what was to be done with the library. The bigot returned the reply,—

“Either what those books contain is in the Koran, or it is not. If their contents are in the Koran, the books are useless: if they are not, the books are false and wicked. Burn them.”

The whole priceless treasure, containing the annals of many past centuries, was committed to the flames. The irreparable loss Christendom will ever mourn.

Nations are not born, and do not die, in a day. During several centuries, Mohammedanism was rising to its zenith of power, until it vied with ancient Rome in the extent of its territory, the invincibility of its legions, and the enormity of its luxury and corruption.

The seventh century was, perhaps, the darkest and the most hopeless, so far as the prospects of humanity were concerned, of any since the birth of Christ. When the eighth century dawned, several hundred years of war, anarchy, and blood, had lingered away since the breaking-up of the Roman empire. The people, weary of anarchy and crushed with woe, were glad to make any surrender of personal liberty for the sake of security. Females sought refuge in nunneries, and timid men in monasteries: bold barons built their impregnable castles on the cliffs; and defenceless peasants clustered around these massive fortresses of rock for protection as the sheep gather around the watch-dog.

The baron, with his fierce retainers armed to the teeth, was ever ready to do battle. The serf purchased a home and safety by toiling with his wife and children, like cattle in the field, to support his lord and his armed warriors. Thus feudalism was the child of necessity: it was the natural outgrowth of barbarous times. The ruins of these old feudal castles are scattered profusely over the hillsides and along the romantic streams of Europe. As the tourist now glides in the steamer over the water of the beautiful Rhine, where the “castled crag of Drachenfels” frowns down upon the scene of solitude and beauty, and sees

creative imagination leaps back over the ages which are gone, repairs the ruins, digs out the moat, suspends the portcullis, stores the dungeon, and peoples the battlemented towers with armed defenders. Again the winding of the bugle echoes over the hills and the valleys, warning the serfs of approaching danger. We see the rush of the frightened peasants in at the massive portals; we hear the clatter of iron hoofs, the defiant challenge pealing from the trumpet: the eye is dazzled with the vision of waving plumes and gilded banners as steel-clad knights sweep by like a whirlwind.

Breathless we gaze, in fancy, upon the attack and the defence; listen to the cry of onset, and to the resounding blows upon helmet and cuirass. Heroic courage, chivalric adventure, invest the crumbling stones with life. Such was life in this sad world ten centuries ago.

But, through all these tumults, the Church of Christ, with many mingling imperfections, was rising to be the ruling power on earth. In seasons of anarchy, the community is ever ready to cast itself for protection into the arms of dictatorial power. The Church, imperilled, felt its need of a dictator; and the Bishop of Rome, by almost unanimous consent, became its recognized head. The Moslem empire had swept over all the East, trampling Eastern Christians in the dust. The few disciples of Jesus who in those regions were permitted to live were exposed to the most humiliating oppressions and insults.

It was in the year 732 that Charles Martel met the Moslem host near Tours, in France, to fight the battle which apparently was to decide the fate of Europe. Christianity and Mohammedanism met on that field in their greatest strength. The battle which ensued was one of the most terrific which earth has ever known. Victory followed the banner of the cross. The annalists of those days declare that over three hundred thousand Moslems bit the dust upon that bloody field: the remnant, in a series of desperate conflicts, were driven pell-mell over the Pyrenees, across the whole breadth of Spain, and over the Straits of Gibraltar into Africa.

As we traverse these weary years in their dull monotony of woe, we occasionally come to some event over which we are constrained to pause and ponder. Such an event was the rise of Charlemagne, towards the close of the eighth century. His name has reverberated through the corridors of history until the present day. By his genius, and the power of his armies, he brought two-thirds of all Europe under his sceptre. He created an empire almost rivalling that of the CÆsars. Seated in his palace at Aix la Chapelle, he issued his orders, which scores of nations obeyed. Dukes, princes, counts, became his subordinate officers, whose powers were limited according to his will.

At the death of Charlemagne, near the close of the eighth century, his empire broke to pieces in large fragments. Europe emerged from the wreck, organized essentially as now. The overthrow of the ancient Roman empire was like a mountain crumbling down into sand. The then known world became but a vast arena for the conflict of petty barbarous tribes, ever surging to and fro. The demolition of the empire of Charlemagne was like the breaking-up of a majestic iceberg into a number of huge islands, each floating imperially over the waves, defying alike gales and billows. The spiritual empire of the Papacy had kept pace with the secular empire of Charlemagne: indeed, the Bishop of Rome swayed a sceptre before whose power even Charlemagne himself was compelled to bow.

As a temporal ruler, Charlemagne had no rival in Europe. The antechamber of this great European conqueror was filled with suppliant kings. Though unlearned himself, he did all in his power to encourage learning throughout his realms. He ordered every monastery to maintain a school; he encouraged manufactures and agriculture; and with a strong arm repressed violence, that all branches of industry might be secure of a reward. It was during his reign that the first bell was cast by the monk Tancho. The emperor was so much pleased with its sweet and solemn tones, that he ordered it to be placed on his chapel as the call to prayer. Hence the origin of church-bells.

Until nearly the ninth century, the Island of Great Britain was essentially a barbaric land, filled with savage, warring tribes. Each district had its petty clans of fierce warriors, arrayed against each other. But again there bursts upon Europe one of those appalling irruptions of barbarians from the North which seems so weird-like and supernatural.

One day, Charlemagne with a friend was standing upon a cliff, looking out upon the sea, when he saw quite a fleet of galleys passing by. “They are traders, probably,” said his companion. “No,” replied Charlemagne sadly: “they are Norman pirates. Iknow them. Ido not fear them; but, when Iam gone, they will ravage Europe.”

These were the fierce men who enslaved the Saxons of Britain, and put brass collars around their necks. Descending from the islands of the Baltic and the mainlands of Denmark and Norway in their war-ships, infuriated by a fanatic faith which regarded mercy as sin, these ferocious warriors, hardy as polar bears, and agile as wolves, penetrated every bay, river, and creek, sweeping all opposition before them. Devastation, carnage, and slavery followed in their train.

The monasteries had gradually degenerated into institutions of indolence and sensuality. The Normans assailed the inmates of these gloomy retreats with the most relentless cruelty. They surrounded with their armed bands these cloistered walls, and, barring the monks within, applied the torch, and danced and sang as the vast pile and all its contents were wrapped in flames. They hated a religion which taught (to them the absurd doctrine) that man was the brother of his fellow-man; that the strong should protect, and not oppress, the weak; that we should forgive our enemies, and treat kindly those who injure us. Like incarnate fiends, they took special pleasure in putting to death, through every form of torture, the teachers of a religion so antagonistic to their depraved natures.

Such was the condition of the world at the commencement of the tenth century. Joyless generations came and passed away, and life upon this sin-stricken globe could have been only a burden. From this sketch, necessarily exceedingly brief, it will be seen that man has ever been the most bitter foe of his brother-man. Nearly all the woes of earth are now, and ever have been, caused by sin. What an awful tragedy has the history of this globe been!

Almost with anguish, the thoughtful and benevolent mind inquires, “Is there to be no end to this? Is humanity forever to be plunged into the abyss of crime and woe?”

It would seem that it must be manifest to every candid mind that there can be no possible remedy but in the religion of Jesus Christ. Love God, your Father; love man, your brother: these are the fundamental principles of the gospel. Every one must admit that the universal adoption of these principles would sweep away from earth nearly all its sorrows. Sin and holiness in this world are struggling for the supremacy: it is a fearful conflict. Every individual is on the one side or the other. Some are more, and some are less zealous. But there is no neutrality: he that is not for Christ is against him.

Is there not an influence coming down to us through these long centuries of woe potent enough to induce each one to declare, “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord”? Accept the religion of Jesus; live in accordance with its teachings: then you will do all in your power to arrest the woes of humanity; and, when Death with his summons shall come, he will present you a passport which will secure your entrance at the golden gate which opens to the paradise of God.