But notwithstanding failures and discouragements, the work of reconstructing society moved painfully on, and among the brave master builders was Benedict of Nursia.  “He found the world, physical and social, in ruins,” says Cardinal Newman, “and his mission was to restore it in the way,—­not of science, but of nature; not as if setting about to do it; not professing to do it by any set time, or by any series of strokes; but so quietly, patiently, gradually, that often till the work was done, it was not known to be doing.  It was a restoration rather than a visitation, correction or conversion.  The new world he helped to create was a growth rather than a structure.”

But the chaos created by the irruption of the barbarous nations at this period seriously affected the moral character and influence of the clergy and the monks.  The church seemed unequal to the stupendous undertaking of converting the barbarians.  The monks, as a class, were lawless and vicious.  Benedict himself testifies against them, and declares that they were “always wandering and never stable; that they obey their own appetites, whereunto they are enslaved.”  Unable to control their own desires by any law whatsoever, they were unfitted to the task before them.  It was imperative, then, that unity and order should be introduced among the monasteries; that some sort of a uniform rule, adapted to the existing conditions, should be adopted, not only for the preservation of the monastic institution, but for the preparation of the monks for their work.  Therefore, although the Christianity of that time was far from ideal, it was, nevertheless, a religion within the grasp of the reckless barbarians; and subsequent events prove that it possessed a moral power capable of humanizing manners, elevating the intellect, and checking the violent temper of the age.

Excepting always the religious services of the Benedictine monks, their greatest contribution to civilization was literary and educational[E].  The rules of Benedict provided for two hours a day of reading, and it was doubtless this wise regulation that stimulated literary tastes, and resulted in the collecting of books and the reproduction of manuscripts.  “Wherever a Benedictine house arose, or a monastery of any one of the Orders, which were but offshoots from the Benedictine tree, books were multiplied and a library came into existence, small indeed at first, but increasing year by year, till the wealthier houses had gathered together collections of books that would do credit to a modern university.”  There was great danger that the remains of classic literature might be destroyed in the general devastation of Italy.  The monasteries rescued the literary fragments that escaped, and preserved them.  “For a period of more than six centuries the safety of the literary heritage of Europe,—­one may say of the world,—­depended upon the scribes of a few dozen scattered monasteries.”

[Footnote E:  Appendix, Note E.]