In a few years the apostolic organization and priesthood were no more. A few glimmerings of spiritual light remained for a short time, among those who had taken refuge in the catacombs or subterranean vaults of Rome, or had fled to the wilds of the Libyan desert. But even this light was soon extinguished, and then fell that mental, moral, and spiritual night from which mankind are only now slowly emerging. But false religion could never satisfy the cravings of the immortal soul. Paganism presented only a cheerless prospect. It gave itself no concern for the lowly and unfortunate, limited the hopes and destiny of man to this present life, and taught him that temporal prosperity might be selfishly gained at any cost to others in property and suffering. For example, Rome, for many ages had enriched herself with the wealth of conquered nations, and impoverished them that her sons and daughters might live in luxury and grandeur. Yet throughout her vast dominions there were no institutions of benevolence; no hospitals for the sick, no asylums for the afflicted or unfortunate. The pleasant pastimes of her populace were to witness scenes of cruelty; and the most refined ladies of that period eagerly thronged the amphitheatres to view the agonies of captives from distant tribes or early Christian martyrs as they were thrown to famished and enraged wild beasts in the public arena. Many of the early Christians were thus put to death {14} in the Coliseum, the ruins of which are shown in the engraving. [Image: Engraving of Coliseum in ruins.] No wonder then that when the church was taken from the earth, and its forms amalgamated with pagan institutions, the {15} world presented an unparalleled scene of carnage and cruelty, bloodshed and terror. But Rome was destined to endure a terrible retribution. The northern barbarians whom she had so long oppressed, and from whom she had drawn many of the victims of her gladiatorial combats now wreaked their long-sought vengeance, spreading terror and devastation wherever they went. One of them, Attila, king of the Huns, called himself the scourge of God, and boasted that grass never grew where his horse had trodden. These incursions spread an intellectual famine throughout Europe. The only men of learning were the monks, who seldom left their cloisters, and the only books were manuscripts concealed in the libraries of the monasteries. Not only were the common people extremely ignorant, but also the rich and noble, and even the kings could scarcely read or write. The reign of superstition was universal. The simplicity of primitive worship was changed to an unmeaning round of rites and ceremonies: and the glorious principles of the gospel were hidden from sight by a dark cloud of ignorance, mysticism and unintelligible jargon, out of which there too often flashed the lurid lightenings of priestly vengeance and persecutions.