There can be little doubt that Louis, surnamed the Pious, was a sincere and humble Christian. But there never was a man in such a false position as the meek and gentle Louis when the empire fell into his hands. He lived till the year 840. But his life is one of the most touching, tragical and pitiful, in the annals of kings. There was something like universal rebellion when the principles of his government were known. He was too gentle and scrupulous for his soldiers; much too pious for his clergy. Bishops were prevented from wearing sword and arms, or glittering spurs on their heels. The monks and nuns found in him a second St. Benedict. The license of his father's court speedily disappeared from the sacred precincts of his palace; but he was far too easy in the discipline of his sons. Such true piety, as may easily be imagined, was only turned into ridicule, and could not long be borne with. He was deserted by his soldiers, whose wealth arose from plundered enemies; his sons, Pepin, Louis, and Lothaire, were more than once in arms against him. The clergy, who ought to have surrounded the fallen monarch with their sympathy in the day of adversity, only took occasion to show their power by degrading him to the depths of a cloister; and, to give a fair appearance to their injustice, he was forced by the priests to confess sins of which he was entirely innocent. Siding with his rebellious son, Lothaire, a man of cruelty, yet fearing to sanction his taking the life of his father, they—the son and the priests together—determined to incapacitate the king by civil and ecclesiastical degradation for the exercise of his royal authority. He was compelled to do public penance for alleged crimes; his royal armor and his imperial apparel he was forced to lay on the altar of St. Sebastian, and to put on a dark mourning robe.
But the pride of his nobles was insulted by this display of ecclesiastical presumption, and the nation wept at the fate of their good and gentle Emperor. A reaction was inevitable. Indignant at his treatment, the people demanded his restoration. He was taken from the monastery, re-robed and restored, but only to experience a deeper humiliation. He was at length rescued by the hand of divine mercy from the unnatural conduct of his sons, and from the pitiless persecution of the clergy, who cared only for the display and the establishment of their own power. With a crucifix pressed to his bosom, his eyes lifted up to heaven, and breathing forgiveness to his son Louis, who was then in arms against him, he departed this life, to be with Christ, which is far better. (Phil. 1:2323For I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart, and to be with Christ; which is far better: (Philippians 1:23).)