This is what Anselm essayed to do; but the Schoolmen who succeeded Abelard often drew dialectical inferences from what appeared to be true, while some of them were so sophistical as to argue from false premises.  This syllogistic reasoning, in the hands of an acute dialectician, was very efficient in overthrowing an antagonist, or turning his position into absurdity, but not favorable for the discovery of truth, since it aimed no higher than the establishment of the particulars which were included in the doctrine assumed or deduced from it.  It was reasoning in perpetual circles; it was full of quibbles and sophistries; it was ingenious, subtle, acute, very attractive to the minds of that age, and inexhaustible from divisions and subdivisions and endless ramifications.  It made the contests of the schools a dialectical display of remarkable powers in which great interest was felt, yet but little knowledge was acquired.  In one respect the Scholastic doctors rendered a service:  they demolished all dreamy theories and poured contempt on mystical phrases.  They insisted, like Socrates, on a definite meaning to words.  If they were hair-splitting in their definitions and distinctions, they were at least clear and precise.  Their method was scientific.  Such terms and expressions as are frequently used by our modern transcendental philosophers would have been laughed to scorn by the Schoolmen.  No system of philosophy can be built up when words have no definite meaning.  This Socrates was the first to inculcate, and Aristotle followed in his steps.

With the Crusades arose a new spirit, which gave an impulse to philosophy as well as to art and enterprise.  “The primum mobile of the new system was Motion, in distinction from the Rest which marked the old monastic retreats.”  An immense enthusiasm for knowledge had been kindled by Abelard, which was further intensified by the Scholastic doctors of the thirteenth century, especially such of them as belonged to the Dominican and Franciscan friars.

These celebrated Orders arose at a great crisis in the Papal history, when rival popes aspired to the throne of Saint Peter, when the Church was rent with divisions, when princes were contending for the right of investiture, and when heretical opinions were defended by men of genius.  At this crisis a great Pope was called to the government of the Church,—­Innocent III., under whose able rule the papal power culminated.  He belonged to an illustrious Roman family, and received an unusual education, being versed in theology, philosophy, and canon law.  His name was Lothario, of the family of the Conti; he was nephew of a pope, and counted three cardinals among his relatives.  At the age of twenty-one, about the year 1181, he was one of the canons of Saint Peter’s Church; at twenty-four he was sent by the Pope on important missions.  In 1188 he was created cardinal by his uncle, Clement III.; and in 1198 he was elected Pope, at the age