The reputation for dissolute practices sustained by the convent was in no respect inferior to that of the monastery. The nuns notoriously affected all the airs and graces of the most accomplished coquetry. They arrayed themselves in rich garments covered with beautiful embroidery, the work of their own skilful hands. Their chemises of violet silk, their scarlet shoes, their veils of silver tissue, were the delight of their admirers and the abomination of the pious. They wore chains and bracelets of gold and rings set with precious gems. They painted their faces. King Edgar publicly reproved the nuns of his kingdom for their attire of purple and their jewels. The inmates of Fontevrault wore the horned head-dress affected by the fashionable ladies of the time. The spouses of Christ adopted every art to attract the attention of the sinful passer-by. In the orgies which defiled even the houses dedicated to divine worship their shamelessness was proverbial. They bathed in perfect nudity with monks and deacons. They sang bacchanalian songs. Their conversation was spiced with blasphemous ribaldry. The universal prevalence of the evil is proved by the frequency with which it is denounced by the Councils of the Church. The Council of Cologne, held in 1307, was especially severe in its reprobation of the custom by which nuns abandoned for a time the conventual life for a career of debauchery and then resumed their former relations with the Church, without repentance, and, what was even worse, without remonstrance from their superiors.
For indulgence in these pleasures prohibited by the laws of God and man, the revenues of the religious houses, although in many instances enormous, were entirely inadequate. The extravagant demands of the Holy See, which collected its tribute at frequent and irregular intervals, further reduced the financial resources of the monastic treasury. The ingenuity of the abbots was not at a loss, however, to devise means to replenish their exhausted coffers. Noble forests, many of them contemporaneous with the reign of the Druidical priesthood, were cut down and sold. Chalices, patens, ciboria, and crucifixes were placed in pawn with Jewish goldsmiths and merchants. Jewels were extracted from votive offerings and altar ornaments and disposed of at a fraction of their real value. These thefts of sacred articles were so serious that inventories of the furniture and utensils of cathedrals were often taken by the orders of primates and sovereigns, rather with a view to discover the losses than to put a stop to a practice which under the existing system was incurable. Absolutions, some forged, but many genuine, bearing the Papal seal and ready to be filled up with the name of the purchaser and the description of the offence of which he was guilty or which he was about to commit, were at the disposal of every criminal. The official visitors of the English abbeys discovered in the cells of recluses who were popularly supposed to be laying up treasures in heaven implements of the counterfeiter and quantities of spurious coin. With the ministrations to the dying the duty of the sufferer to the Church was unceasingly inculcated by the shrewd confessor, until it came to be considered an act of impiety, ranked with sacrilege and suicide, to refuse to bequeath a large share of one’s wealth to the servants of God.
The number, riches, and influence of these ecclesiastical establishments were enormous. At the end of the thirteenth century, there were six hundred monasteries and convents in England, two thousand three hundred and thirty-seven in France, and fifteen hundred in the remaining countries of Europe. Many of these supported communities of more than a thousand monks; that of the great Abbey of Bangor—the largest in Great Britain—numbered three thousand. Towns, villages, and immense tracts of arable soil, pasture, and forest were included in their possessions. Multitudes of tenants and vassals tilled these lands, the lion’s share of whose produce found its way into the storehouses and granaries of the prosperous Fathers. The religious duties of the latter did not hinder them from profiting by the advantages of domestic and foreign trade. They bought and sold almost every description of merchandise. The usurious rates of interest which they obtained from necessitous borrowers extorted the admiration of the shrewd and experienced Hebrew broker. They managed tanneries, dealt extensively in cloth and leather, and imported many luxuries from the Orient. The wool market of England was absolutely controlled by them. The popular clamor aroused by this monopoly, which dispossessed and ruined tenants by turning tillable land into pasture and depriving large numbers of industrious people of the means of livelihood, contributed, in no small degree, to the suppression of the English monasteries. An inexhaustible mine of wealth was made available by traffic in relics and the entertainment and fleecing of pilgrims. The methods of the Holy See in the sale of sacred objects of more than doubtful authenticity were improved upon by the cunning and audacity of monkish charlatans. Immense quantities of bones were imported from Italy and disposed of to the devout at fabulous prices. Most of these sacred treasures were taken from the catacombs, where was deposited a practically unlimited supply of Pagan and barbarian skeletons, whose original owners never dreamed of the adoration they were destined one day to receive on the banks of the Thames, the Seine, the Rhine, and the Danube. When a church was to be constructed, no difficulty was ever experienced in procuring the relics of the saint to which it was dedicated, and the mouldering remains of some priest of Jupiter or Venus were probably not infrequently laid, with every token of reverence, under the altar of a magnificent cathedral, whose idolatrous ceremonies would have presented many striking points of resemblance with heathen rites to the frequenters of the ancient temples. Other sacred mementos of equal virtue often presented a singular mixture of absurdity and blasphemy. The reproductions of the crown of thorns and the nails of the Crucifixion were infinite in number. The list included the coals that roasted St. Lawrence, the cloth used at the Lord’s Supper, a finger of the Holy Ghost, and some of the milk of the Mother of God. The tail of Balaam’s ass was for a century one of the most precious treasures of St. John Lateran at Rome. When the zeal of the pious flagged, the genius of the monks resorted to extraordinary means to stimulate this unprofitable apathy. The sympathies and fanaticism of the superstitious were appealed to by processional images which could weep and bleed. Letters were exhibited purporting to have been penned by the divine hands of the Almighty and the Saviour. The composition and style of these productions, it may be remarked, indicate an extraordinary degree of illiteracy in the exalted personages to whom their execution was profanely attributed. Many relics were supposed to possess marvellous healing virtues, an opinion diligently propagated by those whose interest it was to have it generally entertained. Pilgrims crowded in enormous numbers to these shrines, whose reputation promised speedy and certain relief from every physical infirmity. As few came empty handed, the contents of a single reliquary were often a more important source of revenue than all the royal demesnes of a kingdom. In the Middle Ages the Church of St. Thomas of Canterbury was by far the richest in Christendom. It had for three hundred years received the tribute of pilgrims from every land. Kings had placed crowns and priceless jewels upon its altar. The great tomb of the saint was entirely covered with plates of gold, but the precious metal was hardly visible on account of the profusion of gems with which it was incrusted. The value of the gold and silver obtained by its confiscation under Henry VIII. was nearly one million pounds sterling, and this estimate did not include the precious stones, of which no appraisement was made. Much of this wealth had been accumulated by the thrifty monks through the sale of water alleged to contain a portion of the blood of St. Thomas shed at the time of his martyrdom, whose supply, by the miraculous power of multiplication enjoyed by certain relics, was never exhausted, and which, aided by implicit faith and religious enthusiasm, may really have been instrumental in temporarily relieving diseases induced by disordered functions of the nervous system.
The power of the rulers of these populous communities was very extensive. In most instances the abbot enjoyed not a few of the highest privileges of the nobility. In addition to his spiritual functions, he exercised the duties of a civil and criminal magistrate, and in extreme cases could inflict the penalty of death. He was expected to act as sponsor to children of royal lineage. While bound to observe the rules of his order, his interpretation of those rules was final and his decision absolute. In England, if entitled to wear the mitre, he sat in the Upper House of Parliament by the side of the bishops. Usually he was a veritable epicurean, more fond of field sports than of his breviary, a jovial companion, a connoisseur of wines, an adorer of women. His table, his attire, and his habits exhibited all the fastidiousness of a sybarite. Numerous dishes, prepared by skilful cooks, tempted his pampered tastes. The wines of his cellar were the choicest and most expensive in the market. His garments were sometimes of party-colored and embroidered silk, sometimes of scarlet cloth lined with white satin. His boots, of the softest leather, fitted his burly limbs without a wrinkle. Jewels sparkled upon his snowy fingers. The retainers of his household were clad in gaudy liveries. He maintained jesters and buffoons. To the noble amusement of hawking he was so devoted, and his falcons were so excellent, that for these reasons he often incurred the envy of his aristocratic companions and the severe censure of his more rigid ecclesiastical superiors. Troops of strolling players always found a welcome and munificent largess for their exhibitions in the great hall of the abbey. In addition to the nuns, of whom he was the especial patron, high-born ladies were delighted to receive his amorous compliments and to partake of his dangerous but splendid hospitality.
The inmates of the religious houses entertained far closer relations with the great body of the population than did the secular clergy. The original simplicity of their lives, the apparent fervor of their devotion, acquired for them a peculiar sanctity which their subsequent irregularities could never entirely abrogate. Unlike the secular priesthood, whose traditions were of an aristocratic tendency, their necessities and their ministrations brought them in intimate contact with the lower orders of the people, who repaid their services with fulsome idolatry. Of the two divisions of the regular clergy, the friars, who only differed from the monks in that they subsisted on alms, enjoyed the greater consideration. Their blessing was earnestly solicited by the traveller on the highway. Ladies wore their rope girdles in Lent, partly by way of penance, partly as amulets of sovereign virtue against the machinations of evil spirits. The spurious relics which they hawked about were supposed to be endowed with more miraculous qualities than those retailed by the bishop in the cathedral. Their eloquence carried with its pathetic appeals and homely illustrations a conviction denied to the labored efforts of the most accomplished and popular preacher.
It was not within the power of human nature to long withstand the allurements which such opportunities for luxurious indulgence afforded. Within less than half a century from their foundation, the mendicant friars of St. Francis could boast of wealth equal to that of any of the monastic orders. Their common appellation Cordelier, derived from their hempen girdle, became a synonym of lubricity and drunkenness. Both monks and friars enticed wives from their husbands, and not infrequently reduced the latter to beggary. They administered narcotics and aphrodisiacs to nuns, and pointed to their contortions and incoherent ravings as the effects of divine inspiration. It was an ordinary occurrence for young girls to don male attire and take up their abode in a monastery; and a memorial of the time of Henry VII. of England is extant in which the royal protection is solicited by the farmers and gentry of Carnarvonshire against the dissolute practices of the regular clergy. The profanity of the monks during the celebration of the mass, and their offensive language in the confessional, sometimes resulted in temporary suspension from those sacerdotal functions. Gaming was a common amusement in which even abbesses had been known to indulge. Whenever an abbot died the treasury was plundered, and its contents distributed among the brethren fortunate enough to be present.
These excesses were encouraged by the insignificant penances imposed for their commission. Some escaped with a reprimand, especially when the prior was known to be equally guilty. Among the English clergy, mortal sin could be condoned for the trifling sum of six shillings and eight pence. Bearing a crucifix through the aisles of the church and a fine of three shillings and four pence entitled a delinquent to absolution for incest. Fornication was expiated by an offering of candles and the repetition of a few Paters and Aves. As in the case of the laity, a regular schedule existed, accurately defining the punishments to be inflicted for every degree of ecclesiastical misconduct.
The ordinary criminal courts of judicature, through the operation of privileges extorted from stupid and fanatical sovereigns by the astuteness of designing churchmen and the prejudices of a superstitious age, had no authority over a clerk until he had been condemned by a religious tribunal. The course of prosecution, in which the sympathies of the judges were enlisted on the side of the culprit, through the bond of a common profession, and often by reason of participation in similar offences, was always slow and sometimes interminable. By these delays, and the purposely complicated process of the spiritual courts, the civil statutes were practically nullified. The mutual antagonism of the lay and clerical professions indirectly encouraged the most revolting crimes. As the learning of Europe was monopolized by the clergy, every one who was able to read was deemed a “clerk,” and could demand the interference and protection of the ecclesiastical authorities in case of arrest. The tonsure was also regarded as prima-facie evidence of being in orders, and of equal efficacy in obtaining immunity, as many of the priesthood were ignorant of letters. By taking advantage of these privileges, so dangerous to the welfare of society, desperate malefactors continually escaped the consequences of their deeds; and the criminal, whose scanty learning or shaven crown suggested a connection with the all-powerful hierarchy, was demanded in vain by the official avengers of the outraged laws. The benefit of clergy was carried to such extremes in England that Parliament found it necessary on one occasion to proceed by bill of attainder against the Bishop of Rochester’s cook, who, wearing the tonsure and assisted by the influence of his master, had defied the criminal magistracy and tribunals of the realm. The rendition of a trifling service, the payment of a sum of money proportioned to the means of the applicant, and which was often the proceeds of the crime for which absolution was requested, relieved the highwayman and the murderer from all apprehension of the penalties of secular justice.
Thus had the monastic orders fatally degenerated from the simplicity and purity of their original institution. In common with the other branches of the ecclesiastical profession, they had become infected with every vice and steeped in every sin. They were especially noted for their propensity to the most disgraceful offences in the calendar of human infirmities,—to drunkenness, fornication, rape, and incest. Men who habitually defied the canons of morality by indulgence in such practices must necessarily have entertained but little respect for a system which, so far from restraining, was known to secretly encourage them. As a consequence, hypocrisy prevailed everywhere among the ministers of the Church, from the Holy Father, surrounded by the beauties of his seraglio, to the mendicant friar, who repaid the services of the obsequious peasant by the plunder of his goods and the corruption of his family. The morals of the ecclesiastic were, as a rule, far worse than those of the layman. In Southern France it was a custom, which precedent had almost invested with the force of law, for a priest, after the celebration of his first mass, to invite his clerical friends to a carousal at the nearest tavern. Bishops read the service in bed. The lower clergy divided the solemn office of the Eucharist into several parts, and, demanding a fee for each, quadrupled their emoluments. A French Council, in 1317, menaced with excommunication any magistrate who should, at sound of trumpet, expose priests in public, with their weapons about their necks,—an ordinary penalty for fighting and riotous conduct. The policy of the Church considered the most flagrant injustice, the most atrocious crime, as venial in comparison with neglect of the outward obedience of her rules and the observance of the formalities of her ritual, such as rare attendance at mass, blaspheming of relics, withholding of tithes, eating meat in Lent, labor on holidays. In the prosecution of the Templars, the articles of accusation did not regard the charge of incontinence as important in comparison with those of atheism and idolatry, although it was notorious that more than thirteen thousand concubines were maintained at the expense of the priories of that Order in Europe.
The violation of the vow of chastity was so common that only the most outrageous indecency could excite comment, and the spiritual authorities, whom the Church had appointed to exercise a censorship over public morals, hesitated to perform their duties lest their own delinquencies might thereby be exposed. It was considered not only meritorious, but convenient, to have a clergyman for a lover, on account of the facility of concealment and the certainty of immediate absolution. The presence of the mistresses of bishops, priests, and canons insulted the wives of honest nobles and burghers at coronations and tournaments. The vicinity of abbeys and convents swarmed with the natural children of ecclesiastics. These members of priestly households were liberally provided for from revenues ostensibly collected for pious uses and the propagation of religious truth. So degraded had some of the monks become that they utilized even the House of God for the basest purposes. Guyot de Provins, a writer of the thirteenth century and himself the member of a monastic fraternity, relates that he had seen Cistercians turn church-yards into pigsties and tether asses in chapels. In addition to immoderate indulgence in the strongest of wines, the successors of Pachomius and Antony held eating contests, in which the palm was awarded to the brother possessing the greatest abdominal capacity. Among these were the Glutton Masses of England, celebrated five times a year in honor of the Virgin, when the parish church was made the scene of the voracious exploits of the priest and the clerks, who contended for this enviable distinction with an ardor that often terminated in riot. Every effort to reform these depraved communities proved futile. The abbot who attempted to correct the vices of his flock was harassed until he was glad to relinquish his unpromising task or abandon his charge. If he boldly attempted to enforce his authority, he stood an excellent chance of being poisoned. The famous Abelard narrowly escaped this fate, and the pronounced and vindictive hostility manifested by the inmates of his abbey finally compelled him to insure his safety by flight. Even the determined character of Cardinal Ximenes was forced to succumb to the obstinacy of his Franciscan brethren, whose extortions and irregular lives had excited his horror and disgust. For seven years, William, Bishop of Paderborn, employed in vain the authority vested in his high office to free the monasteries of his diocese from the scandal produced by the vices of their occupants.