The History of Christianity by John S. C. Abbott (free children's ebooks pdf .TXT) 📖
- Author: John S. C. Abbott
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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. I see 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
“On yon bold brow a lordly tower,
In that soft vale a lady’s bower,
In yonder meadow, far away,
The turrets of a cloister gray,”
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. I know them. I do not fear them; but, when I am 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
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