MAKERS OF MODERN THOUGHT.

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INTRODUCTION.

O watch the growth of the most simple plant, the unfolding of a single bud, the development of the blindborn puppy, or the still more helpless human infant, is an occupation pleasing alike to child and adult, and not unworthy of the highest intellect. If that be true, what must be the interest and profit attaching to the careful and intelligent study, not of an individual person, not of a single family, not of a single nation, but of that community of nations we call Europe; not its material or political development, for that in some sense is impossible—in those respects nations are and must remain individual—but the development of that something which between A.D. 1200 and A.D. 1699 wrought the mighty change that in fact took place in European thought.

Though the labours of the student child may be as constant and as keen as those of the adult sage in matters within its comprehension, and though its gratification may be as complete as his, they are not, they cannot be, the same. The child cannot see in its pet plant, or puppy, a leaf in the great book of Nature. The more closely it watches and studies the material thing, the more remote become its thoughts from the great source of all things. It is enough to it that the pet daily grows, and hourly becomes a more pleasing object.

Between the infant and the adult mind of the same individual there is necessarily a marked difference. But assuming the infant mind to be practically the same in all cases—a blank, open to the reception of impressions from the objects. presented to it—we see that the difference between one adult

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mind and another may be enormous. What objects are presented to the mind of the infant rustic? If we compare them with those presented to the mind of the little London Street Arab, we have no difficulty in accounting for the superior intelligence of the latter. The intelligence of the Street Arab of six or seven years of age is, as we all know, vastly superior to that of the rustic adult; and necessarily so, for whereas the rustic sees but few things and hears of but little, the gaze of the little Arab is on a perpetual panorama, his ears are ever listening to new and strange tales.

It is by considerations such as these that we become prepared to estimate the condition of the ordinary adult European mind at the commencement of the thirteenth century, that is to say, at the beginning of the period we propose to consider. Clear notions on that point are necessarily indispensable to a due appreciation of the evolution here termed "Spiritual."

But what are we to understand by the term "Spiritual" as here used? If we regard Law, Religion, and Morality as the three elements of the Social Trinity, and say, as we appear justified in saying, that no human society does or can exist without any of these elements, we have the basis of our proposition.

As the white solar light is the result of the due blending of its several elements-violet, indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange, and red-so is spiritual light the product of law, religion, morality, the sciences commonly so called, and the Arts. By the aid of solar light our senses receive impressions from the objects that surround us. By the aid of spiritual light our souls behold the great source and object of all things, the reason of our being, and the way to human happiness. As the first dawn of day makes visible to the physical eye a hazy something where nothing is definite, so does the first dawn of spiritual light reveal little else than ignorance, superstition, and tyranny. As the sun rises, the mists disappear, and in

time all stands boldly out, our individual lack of power of vision alone preventing our perfect realisation of the scene with all its beauties. So, as the spiritual light brightens, ignorance, superstition, and tyranny give place to knowledge of things divine and human, limited alone by our individual incapacity of grasp. In the broad daylight all see, though some see further and more clearly than others. It is the same with spiritual light. To seek spiritual light in religion, or in law, or in morality, is as vain as to expect to find white light in any of the elements of solar light; spiritual light, as solar light, is a product of many elements. The compounding of the elements in the case of solar light is perfect, for it is the work of God. The compounding of the elements in the case of spiritual light is imperfect, for it is the work of man; a work still progressing, and which may go on progressing till man shall attain to all of which he is capable.

To acquire anything like a just conception of any period in the past history of any given people, the best method is, possibly, that of elimination. Thus, for example, if we in England in the year A.D. 1891 desire to realise the state of things here in the year A.D. 1200, it may be taken for granted that no mere reading of histories of the period will suffice; for if written at the time, they were written by men who saw with the eyes of the time; and if written by those of our own period, they were written by those who see with the eyes of our period. Which is likely most to mislead, it might be difficult to say, but without hesitation it may be affirmed that each is almost certain to do so. If, however, we take matters as they are, and, going backward, strike out everything that we regard as a necessity of legal, religious, moral, and, we may add, bare animal existence, as, and when, we reach the date of its introduction, we by the process of elimination arrive with some degree of accuracy at the condition of things in A.D. 1200; that is to say, we know what, of that which we now consider necessary, good, or simply convenient, was then sub

sisting. With that knowledge alone, however, we shall be far from the true appreciation of the position. For, though the various matters and things that we have eliminated are by us regarded as necessaries or conveniences of life, it by no means follows that, even if known, they would have been acceptable to the community as a whole in A.D. 1200. That they could not, as a whole, have been presented to it is made abundantly clear in this book.

In the year A.D. 1200, as in the year A.D. 1891, the community consisted of minors, adults, and aged; of rich and poor, of governors and the governed. As to the minors, they then, as now, were learning somewhat against their will what their fathers had learned before them; as to the adults, they had spent, in their opinion, time enough in learning, and at all events, had no desire to begin the process of unlearning in order to begin something new; as to the aged, the bare notion of change was hateful. Their prayer was, as with most it still 66 Peace, peace, for God's sake, let us have peace!"

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When we consider the institutions, whether political, religious, or purely social, of any people historically, and trace their modifications and transformations, two facts force themselves upon the attention, viz.: I.-Be the modifications or transformations what they may, Law, Religion, and Morality always do and must remain. We cannot conceive of a human community without them or any of them. II.-There must have been a time when the particular code of law, the religious creeds, forms and ceremonies, and the moral practices and sentiments, now things of the past, were, if not the best possible, at all events fairly well adapted to the then social necessities, for, otherwise, they would not have existed. To suppose that institutions, however well adapted to the wants of the European of A.D. 1200, could be equally well adapted to the wants of the European of A.D. 1699, necessarily involves the hypothesis that a people and their institutions can remain stationary, which is as irrational as the supposition that a