e earlier Christianity;
these men, the clergy of the Christian church, had deserted their post
of duty and surrendered to the prevailing worldliness.

Jerome describes, with justifiable sarcasm, these moral weaklings,
charged with the solemn responsibility of preaching a pure gospel to a
dying empire. "Such men think of nothing but their dress; they use
perfumes freely, and see that there are no creases in their leather
shoes. Their curling hair shows traces of the tongs; their fingers
glisten with rings; they walk on tiptoe across a damp road, not to
splash their feet. When you see men acting that way, think of them
rather as bridegrooms than as clergymen. If he sees a pillow that takes
his fancy, or an elegant table-cover, or, indeed, any article of
furniture, he praises it, looks admiringly at it, takes it into his
hand, and, complaining that he has nothing of the kind, begs or rather
extorts it from its owner." Such trifling folly was fatal. The times
demanded men of vigorous spirit, who dared to face the general decline,
and cry out in strong tones against it. The age needed moral warriors,
with the old Roman courage and love of sacrifice; martyrs willing to rot
in prison or shed their blood in the street, not effeminate men, toying
with fancy table-covers and tiptoeing across a sprinkled road. "And as a
background," says Kingsley, "to all this seething heap of corruption,
misrule and misery, hung the black cloud of the barbarians, the Teutonic
tribes from whom we derive our best blood, ever coming nearer and
nearer, waxing stronger and stronger, to be soon the conquerors of the
Caesars and the masters of the world."

But there were many pure and sincere Christians--a saving remnant. The
joyous alacrity with which men and women responded to the monastic call,
and entered upon careers of self-torture for the sake of deliverance
from moral corruption, shows that the spirit of true faith was not
extinct. These seekers after righteousness may be described as "a dismal
and fanatical set of men, overlooking the practical aims of life," but
it is a fair question to ask, "if they had not abandoned the world to
its fate would they not have shared that fate?" "The glory of that age,"
says Professor Dill, "is the number of those who were capable of such
self-surrender; and an age should be judged by its ideals, not by the
mediocrity of conventional religion masking worldly self-indulgence.
This we have always with us; the ot