230 HENRY HILL GOODELL 



But out of the midst of this universal chaos and desola- 

 tion now burst forth an army of Christian soldiers. Some, 

 taking upon themselves vows of solitude and self-renuncia- 

 tion, penetrated the wilderness to live as ascetics, — a life 

 of prayer and holy calm, withdrawn from the turmoil and 

 wretchedness of the world; others, seeking out the most 

 inaccessible and unfrequented spots, erected their build- 

 ings, and, gathering about them their disciples, entered upon 

 the true monastic life; while yet others again, as missiona- 

 ries, advanced boldly into the enemy's dominions, to con- 

 quer back for the church the territory it had lost, and to 

 gather into its folds these new peoples and new tribes whose 

 invasion had destroyed the Roman world. And it was their 

 glory that in a few short centuries they succeeded. But, 

 whether as hermits or missionaries or monks they aban- 

 doned their homes and embraced this painful life, the result 

 was in every case the same, — agriculture and the arts first, 

 and civilization and Christianity last. It could not be other- 

 wise; the necessities of the case compelled it. Solitaries 

 who shrank from all contact with humanity were becoming 

 the unconscious instruments of the civilization and con- 

 version of savages and heathen. They penetrated valleys 

 choked with rocks, brambles, and brushwood, the over- 

 growth of generations interlaced into a barrier not to be 

 penetrated by anything weaker than their untiring energy. 

 They are the sternest of ascetics and most isolated of her- 

 mits. But their rest is broken by penitents who come to 

 ask their blessing and who implore permission to live under 

 their authority. The solitary cell of the hermit becomes the 

 nucleus of a society, — the society a centre of many congre- 

 gations radiating from it. The little plot of herbs becomes 



