affirms, no longer rested upon the Christians. The grounds of the observance of Sunday were the manifest propriety and expediency of devoting a certain portion of time to devout exercises, the tradition which traced the sanctification of Sunday to apostolical times, and the right of the Church to appoint certain seasons to be kept holy by its members. When Christianity acquired an ascendency in the empire, its policy on this subject was manifested in one of the laws of Constantine, which, without making any direct reference to religious motives, ordered that, 'on the day of the sun,' no servile work should be performed except agriculture, which, being dependent on the weather, could not, it was thought, be reasonably postponed. Theodosius took a step further, and suppressed the public spectacles on that day. During the centuries that immediately followed the dissolution of the Roman empire, the clergy devoted themselves with great and praiseworthy zeal to the suppression of labour both on Sundays and on the other leading Church holidays. More than one law was made, forbidding all Sunday labour, and this prohibition was reiterated by Charlemagne in his Capitularies. Councils made decrees on the subject,2 and several legends were circulated, of men who had been struck miraculously with disease or death, for having been guilty of this sin.3 Although the moral side of religion was greatly degraded or forgotten, there was, as I have already intimated, one

1 See Canciani, Leges Barbarorum, vol. iii. pp. 19, 151.

Several

2 Much information about these measures is given by Dr. Hessey, in his Bampton Lectures on Sunday. See, especially, lect. 3. See, too, Moehler, Le Christianisme et l'Esclavage, pp. 186-187.

3 Gregory of Tours enumerates some instances of this in his extravagant book De Miraculis, ii. 11; iv. 57; v. 7. One of these cases, however, was for having worked on the day of St. John the Baptist. Some other miracles of the same nature, taken, I believe, from English sources, are given in Hessey's Sunday (3rd edition), p. 321.

important exception. Charity was so interwoven with the superstitious parts of ecclesiastical teaching, that it continued to grow and flourish in the darkest period. Of the acts of Queen Bathilda, it is said we know nothing except her donations to the monasteries, and the charity with which she purchased slaves and captives, and released them or converted them into monks.1 St. Germanus, the Bishop of Paris, near the close of the sixth century, was especially famous for his zeal in ransoming captives.2 While many of the bishops were men of gross and scandalous vice, there were always some who laboured assiduously in the old episcopal vocation of protecting the oppressed, interceding for the captives, and opening their sanctuaries to the fugitives. The fame acquired by St. Germanus was so great, that prisoners are said to have called upon him to assist them, in the interval between his death and his burial; and the body of the saint becoming miraculously heavy, it was found impossible to carry it to the grave till the captives had been released. In the midst of the complete eclipse of all secular learning, in the midst of a reign of ignorance, imposture, and credulity which cannot be paralleled in history, there grew up a vast legendary literature, clustering around the form of the ascetic, and the lives of the saints among very

1 Compare Pitra, Vie de St.-Léger, p. 137. Sismondi, Hist. des Français, tome ii. P. 62-63.

2 See a remarkable passage from his life, cited by Guizot, Hist. de la Civilisation en France, xviime leçon. The English historians contain several instances of the activity of charity in the darkest period. Alfred and Edward the Confessor were conspicuous for it. Ethelwolf is said to have provided 'for the good of his soul,' that, till the day of judgment, one poor man in ten should be provided with meat, drink, and clothing. (Asser's Life of Alfred.) There was a popular legend of a poor man who, having in vain asked alms of some sailors, all the bread in their vessel was turned into stone. (Roger of Wendover, A.D. 606.) See, too, another legend of charity in Mathew of Westminster, A.d. 611.

3 Greg. Tur. Hist. v. 8.

much that is grotesque, childish, and even immoral, contain some fragments of the purest and most touching religious poetry.1

But the chief title of the period we are considering, to the indulgence of posterity, was its great missionary labours. The stream of missionaries which had at first flowed from Palestine and Italy began to flow from the West. The Irish monasteries furnished the earliest, and probably the most numerous, labourers in the field. A great portion of the north of England was converted by the Irish monks of Lindisfarne. The fame of St. Columbanus in Gaul, in Germany, and in Italy, for a time even balanced that of St. Benedict himself, and the school he founded at Luxeuil became the great seminary for mediæval missionaries, while the monastery he planted at Bobbio continued to the present century. The Irish missionary, St. Gall, gave his name to a portion of Switzerland he had converted, and a crowd of other Irish missionaries penetrated to the remotest forests of Germany. The movement which began with St. Columba in the middle of the sixth century, was communicated to England and Gaul about a century later. Early in the eighth century it found a great leader in the Anglo-Saxon St. Boniface, who spread Christianity far and wide through Germany, and at once excited and disciplined an ardent enthusiasm, which appears to have attracted all that was morally best in the Church. During about three centuries, and while Europe had sunk into the most extreme moral, intellectual, and political degradation, a constant stream of missionaries poured forth from the monasteries, who spread the knowledge of the Cross and the seeds of

1 M. Guizot has given several specimens of this, (Hist. de la Civilis. xviime leçon.)

a future civilisation through every land, from Lombardy to Sweden.1

On the whole, however, it would be difficult to exaggerate the superstition and the vice of the period between the dissolution of the Empire and the reign of Charlemagne. But in the midst of the chaos the elements of a new society may be detected, and we may already observe in embryo the movement which ultimately issued in the crusades, the feudal system, and chivalry. It is exclusively with the moral aspect of this movement that the present work is concerned, and I shall endeavour, in the remainder of this chapter, to describe and explain its incipient stages. It consisted of two parts-a fusion of Christianity with the military spirit, and an increasing reverence for secular rank.

It had been an ancient maxim of the Greeks, that no more acceptable gifts can be offered in the temples of the gods than the trophies won from an enemy in battle.2 Of this military religion Christianity had been at first the extreme negation. I have already had occasion to observe that it had been one of its earliest rules that no arms should be introduced within the church, and that soldiers returning even from the most righteous war should not be admitted to communion until after a period of penance and purification. A powerful party, which counted among its leaders Clement of Alexandria, Tertullian, Origen, Lactantius, and Basil, maintained that

1 This portion of medieval history has lately been well traced by Mr. Maclear, in his History of Christian Missions in the Middle Ages (1863). See, too, Montalembert's Moines d'Occident; Ozanam's Etudes germaniques. The original materials are to be found in Bede, and in the Lives of the Saints-especially that of St. Columba, by Adamnan. On the French missionaries, see the Benedictine Hist. lit. de la France, tome iv. p. 5; and on the English missionaries, Sharon Turner's Hist. of England, book x. ch. ii. 2 Dion Chrysostom, Or. ii. (De Regno).

all warfare was unlawful for those who had been converted, and this opinion had its martyr in the celebrated Maximilianus, who suffered death under Diocletian solely because, having been enrolled as a soldier, he declared that he was a Christian, and that therefore he could not fight. The extent to which this doctrine was disseminated, has been suggested with much plausibility as one of the causes of the Diocletian persecution.1 It was the subject of one of the reproaches of Celsus, and Origen, in reply, frankly accepted the accusation that Christianity was incompatible with military service, though he maintained that the prayers of the Christians were more efficacious than the swords of the legions. At the same time, there can be no question that many Christians, from a very early date, did enlist in the army, and that they were not cut off from the Church. The legend of the thundering legion, under Marcus Aurelius, whatever we may think of the pretended miracle, attested the fact, which is expressly asserted by Tertullian.3 The first fury of the Diocletian persecution fell upon Christian soldiers, and by the time of Constantine the army appears to have become, in a great degree, Christian. A Council of Arles, under Constantine, condemned soldiers who, through religious motives, deserted their colours; and St. Augustine threw his great influence into the same scale. But even where the calling was seldom regarded as sinful, it was strongly discouraged. The ideal or type of supreme excellence conceived by the imagination of the Pagan world, and to which all their purest moral enthusiasm naturally aspired, was the patriot and soldier. The ideal of the Catholic legends was the ascetic, whose

2 Origen, Cels. lib. viii.

1 Gibbon, ch. xvi. 3 Navigamus et nos vobiscum et militamus.'-Tert. Apol. xlii. See too Grotius De Jure, i. cap. ii.