That the monks sadly degenerated in morals and discipline, and even became objects of scandal, is questioned by no respectable historian.  No one was more bitter and vehement in his denunciations of this almost universal corruption of monastic life than Saint Bernard himself,—­the impersonation of an ideal monk.  Hence reforms were attempted; and the Cluniacs and Cistercians and other orders arose, modelled after the original institution on Monte Cassino.  These were only branches of the Benedictines.  Their vows and habits and duties were the same.  It would seem that the prevailing vices of the Benedictines, in their decline, were those which were fostered by great wealth, and consequent idleness and luxury.  But at their worst estate the monks, or regular clergy, were no worse than the secular clergy, or parish priests, in their ordinary lives, and were more intelligent,—­at least more learned.  The ignorance of the secular clergy was notorious and scandalous.  They could not even write letters of common salutation; and what little knowledge they had was extolled and exaggerated.  It was confined to the acquisition of the Psalter by heart, while a little grammar, writing, and accounts were regarded as extraordinary.  He who could write a few homilies, drawn from the Fathers, was a wonder and a prodigy.  There was a total absence of classical literature.

But the Benedictines, idle and worldly as they were, guarded what little literature had escaped the ruin of the ancient civilization.  They gave the only education the age afforded.  There was usually a school attached to every convent, and manual labor was shortened in favor of students.  Nor did the monks systematically and deliberately shut the door of knowledge against those inclined to study, for at that time there was no jealousy of learning; there was only indifference to it, or want of appreciation.  The age was ignorant, and life was hard, and the struggle for existence occupied the thoughts of all.  The time of the monks was consumed in alternate drudgeries and religious devotions.  There was such a general intellectual torpor that scholars (and these were very few) were left at liberty to think and write as they pleased on the great questions of theology.  There was such a general unanimity of belief, that the popes were not on the look-out for heresy.  Nobody thought of attacking their throne.  There was no jealousy about the reading of the Scriptures.  Every convent had a small library, mostly composed of Lives of the saints, and of devout meditations and homilies; and the Bible was the greatest treasure of all,—­the Vulgate of Saint Jerome, which was copied and illuminated by busy hands.  In spite of the general ignorance, the monks relieved their dull lives by some attempts at art.  This was the age of the most beautiful illuminated manuscripts.  There was but little of doctrinal controversy, for the creed of the Church was settled; but pious meditations