not believe in the faith of their time; the tortures
used to extort confessions from the innocent; the
immolation of thousands charged with being wizards
or witches; the extinction of little centres of civilization
in the South of France and elsewhere by brutal crusades—contemplating
all this, we seem to be contemplating not only madness
but furious madness. I need not speak to you of
the Crusades, which also belonged to this period.
Compared with the Roman and Greek civilizations before
it, what a horrible Europe it was! And yet the
thinker must recognize that it had a strength of its
own, a strength of a larger kind than that of the
preceding civilizations. It may seem monstrous
to assert that all this cruelty and superstition and
contempt of learning were absolutely necessary for
the progress of mankind; and yet we must so accept
them in the light of modern knowledge. The checking
of intellectual development for hundreds of years
is certainly a fact that must shock us; but the true
question is whether such a checking had not become
necessary. Intellectual strength, unless supported
by moral strength, leads a people into the ways of
destruction. Compared with the men of the Middle
Ages, the Greeks and Romans were incomparably superior
intellectually; compared with them morally they were
very weak. They had conquered the world and developed
all the arts, these Greeks and Romans; they had achieved
things such as mankind has never since been able to
accomplish, and then, losing their moral ideal, losing
their simplicity, losing their faith, they were utterly
crushed by inferior races in whom the principles of
self-denial had been intensely developed. And
the old instinctive hatred of the Church for the arts
and the letters and the sciences of the Greek and
Roman civilizations was not quite so much of a folly
as we might be apt to suppose. The priests recognized
in a vague way that anything like a revival of the
older civilizations would signify moral ruin.
The Renaissance proves that the priests were not wrong.
Had the movement occurred a few hundred years earlier,
the result would probably have been a universal corruption
I do not mean to say that the Church at any time was
exactly conscious of what she was doing; she acted
blindly under the influence of an instinctive fear.
But the result of all that she did has now proved
unfortunate. What the Roman and Greek civilizations
had lost in moral power was given back to the world
by the frightful discipline of the Middle Ages.
For a long series of generations the ascetic idea
was triumphant; and it became feeble only in proportion
as men became strong enough to do without it.
Especially it remodelled that of which it first seemed
the enemy, the family relation. It created a
new basis for society, founded upon a new sense of
the importance to society of family morals. Because
this idea, this morality, came through superstition,
its value is not thereby in the least diminished.
Superstitions often represent correct guesses at eternal