We are fully aware that all human systems must be examined by the word of God, if we would rightly understand their real character. It is not by contrasting the later with the earlier that we can find out how far they may have wandered from the mind of the Lord. The word of the living God, by which all shall at last be judged, must be our only standard now. It matters very little what improvement may be found in one system compared with another, if both are the result of human invention. This is true as to all persons as well as all systems. The word of God must be the Christian's only rule, and Christ Himself the only head and center, power and authority, in the system which He owns—the church, the assembly of God. But, as we have on different occasions looked into scripture on these points, we will now, in a few words, state the difference between the earlier and later monastic systems.
The chief, if not the exclusive, object of the early hermits, anchorites, and ascetics of every name, was their own religious perfection. The instruction or salvation of others formed no part of their creed. Isolation from the dangerous world, and seclusion in some lonely cell, with all its privations, were deemed necessary to this end. As the halo of their sanctity attracted and allured others, houses were built, and large tracts of land were cultivated, for the necessities of this life. These small beginnings sometimes grew up to be the most stately settlements in the country. And during the long dark night of the middle ages, with its barbarism and feudalism, the monasteries often proved a great mercy to the sick, the poor, and the traveler. All must thankfully acknowledge this fact. During the five or six centuries which followed the subversion of the western empire, the monastic system became a powerful instrument in correcting the vices of society, and in protecting the lower classes from the lawless oppression of the feudal lord. Hospitality, or the entertainment of strangers and pilgrims, was one of the important uses of the monasteries at that time. Inns for the reception of travelers appear not to have existed earlier than the eleventh century Almost the only two stately buildings which met the traveler's eye in those days, were the castle of the powerful baron and the abbey of the praying monks. The one was war, and the other peace. Religion, learning, and science found a refuge behind the monastery walls, and true piety could peacefully labor there, in writing, transcribing, and otherwise collecting and preserving useful information.
"The Benedictines," says Travers Hill, "were the depositaries of learning and the arts; they gathered books together, and reproduced them in the silence of their cells, and they preserved in this way not only the volumes of sacred writ, but many of the works of classic lore. They started the gothic architecture; they alone had the secrets of chemistry and medical science; they invented many colors; they were the first architects, artists, glass-stainers, carvers, and mosaic workers in mediaeval times. It was a mighty system, and did good work in the world, but it went the way of all human things and human institutions; it became intoxicated with its power, blinded with its own splendor, and corrupted by its own wealth; its abbots grew avaricious, its monks voluptuous; they lost their original simplicity; the rule of their founder existed no longer in the activity of their husband-men, their scholars, and their artists, but was only to be found in the words mechanically read in the chapter house -monasticism engendered its own corruption, and out of that corruption came death."
The magnificent abbey of Glastonbury once covered sixty acres. Before the fall of the monasteries in England, the royal commissioners report concerning it; that they had never seen a house so great, good, and princely, with four parks adjoining, a great fishery five miles in compass, well replenished with pike, perch, bream, and roach; four manor houses, besides the chapel, hospital, tribunal, schools, and the great gate-house. Many of the houses of Glastonbury have been built out of the materials of this once superb abbey.*
The habits of the modern monks were a perfect contrast to the earlier. In place of dwelling within the walls of a superb abbey, the whole of Christendom in a short time was overspread with hosts of Dominicans and Franciscans. They were gathered from every country, and spoke, therefore, every language and dialect. They preached the old faith in its fullest mediaeval inflexible rigor, in almost every town and hamlet. Unswerving loyalty to the pope and the extirpation of heresy were their grand themes. And the pontiffs in return protected them, and conferred upon them the highest privileges and advantages. Before the century closed, the monasteries and nunneries of the Minorite order had reached the surprising number of eight thousand, and were inhabited by at least two hundred thousand inmates.