of credulity and intolerance that are the most deadly poisons to the human mind.

It is, again, very frequently observed among the more philosophic eulogists of the medieval period, that although the Catholic Church is a trammel and an obstacle to the progress of civilised nations, although it would be scarcely possible to exaggerate the misery her persecuting spirit caused, when the human mind had outstripped her teaching; yet there was a time when she was greatly in advance of the age, and the complete and absolute ascendency she then exercised was intellectually eminently beneficial. That there is much truth in this view, I have myself repeatedly maintained. But when men proceed to isolate the former period, and to make it the theme of unqualified eulogy, they fall, I think, into a grave error. The evils that sprang from the later period of Catholic ascendency were not an accident or a perversion, but a normal and necessary consequence of the previous despotism. The principles which were imposed on the medieval world, and which were the conditions of so much of its distinctive excellence, were of such a nature that they claimed to be final, and could not possibly be discarded without a struggle and a convulsion. We must estimate the influence of these principles considered as a whole, and during the entire period of their operation. There are some poisons which, before they kill men, allay pain and diffuse a soothing sensation through the frame. We may recognise the hour of enjoyment they procure, but we must not separate it from the price at which it was purchased.

The extremely unfavourable influence the Catholic Church long exercised upon intellectual development had important moral consequences. Although moral progress does not necessarily depend upon intellectual

progress, it is materially affected by it, intellectual activity being the most important element in the growth of that great and complex organism which we call civilisation. The medieval credulity had also a more direct moral influence in producing that indifference to truth, which is the most repulsive feature of so many Catholic writings. The very large part that must be assigned to deliberate forgeries in the early apologetic literature of the Church we have already seen, and no impartial reader can, I think, investigate the innumerable grotesque and lying legends that were deliberately palmed upon mankind as undoubted facts, during the whole course of the middle ages, can follow the histories of the false decretals, and the discussions that were connected with them, or can observe the complete and absolute incapacity the polemical historians of Catholicism so frequently display, of conceiving any good thing in the ranks of their opponents, and their systematic suppression of whatever can tell against their cause, without acknowledging how serious and how inveterate has been the evil. There have, no doubt, been many noble individual exceptions. Yet it is, I believe, difficult to exaggerate the extent to which this moral defect exists in most of the ancient and very much of the modern literature of Catholicism. It is this which makes it so unspeakably repulsive to all independent and impartial thinkers, and has led a great German historian1 to declare, with much bitterness, that the phrase Christian veracity deserves to rank with the phrase Punic faith. But this absolute indifference to truth whenever falsehood could subserve the interests of the Church, is perfectly explicable, and was found in multitudes, who, in other respects, exhibited the noblest virtue. An age which has ceased to value impartiality of

judgment will soon cease to value accuracy of statement, and when credulity is inculcated as a virtue, falsehood will not long be stigmatised as a vice. When, too, men are firmly convinced that salvation can only be found within their Church, and that their Church can absolve from all guilt, they will speedily conclude that nothing can possibly be wrong which is beneficial to it. They exchange the love of truth for what they call the love of the truth. They regard morals as derived from and subordinate to theology, and they regulate all their statements, not by the standard of veracity, but by the interests of their creed.

Another important moral consequence of the monastic system was the great importance that was given to the pecuniary compensations for crime. It had been at first one of the broad distinctions between Paganism and Christianity, that while the rites of the former were for the most part unconnected with moral dispositions, Christianity made purity of heart an essential element of all its worship. Among the Pagans a few faint efforts had, it is true, been made in this direction. An old precept or law, which is referred to by Cicero, and which was strongly reiterated by Apollonius of Tyana, and the Pythagoreans, declared that no impious man should dare to appease the anger of the divinities by his gifts' and oracles are said to have more than once proclaimed that the hecatombs of noble oxen with gilded horns that were offered up ostentatiously by the rich, were less pleasing to the gods than the wreaths of flowers and the modest and reverential worship of the poor.2 In general, however, in the Pagan world, the service of the temple had

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1 'Impius ne audeto placare donis iram Deorum.'-Cicero, De Leg. ii. 9. See, too, Philost. in Apoll. Tyan. i. 11.

There are three or four instances of this related by Porphyry, Abstin. Carnis, lib. ii.

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little or no connection with morals, and the change which Christianity effected in this respect was one of its most important benefits to mankind. It was natural, however, and perhaps inevitable, that in the course of time, and under the action of very various causes, the old Pagan sentiment should revive, and even with an increased intensity. In no respect had the Christians been more nobly distinguished than by their charity. It was not surprising that the fathers, while exerting all their eloquence to stimulate this charity-especially during the calamities that accompanied the dissolution of the empire -should have dilated in extremely strong terms upon the spiritual benefits the donor would receive for his gift. It is also not surprising that this selfish calculcation should gradually, and among hard and ignorant men, have absorbed all other motives. A curious legend, which is related by a writer of the seventh century, illustrates the kind of feeling that had arisen. The Christian bishop Synesius succeeded in converting a Pagan named Evagrius, who for a long time, however, felt doubts about the passage, He who giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord.' On his conversion, and in obedience to this verse, he gave Synesius three hundred pieces of gold to be distributed among the poor; but he exacted from the bishop, as being the representative of Christ, a promissory note, engaging that he should be repaid in the future world. When, many years later, Evagrius was on his deathbed, he commanded his sons, when they buried him, to place the note in his hand, and to do so without informing Synesius. His dying injunction was observed, and three days afterwards he appeared to Synesius in a dream, told him that the debt had been paid, and ordered him to go to the tomb, where he would find a written receipt. Synesius did as he was commanded, and the grave being opened, the

promissory note was found in the hand of the dead man, with an endorsement declaring that the debt had been paid by Christ. The note, it is said, was long after preserved as a relic in the church of Cyrene.1

The kind of feeling which this legend displays was soon turned with tenfold force into the channel of monastic life. A law of Constantine accorded, and several later laws enlarged, the power of bequests to ecclesiastics. Ecclesiastical property was at the same time exonerated from the public burdens, and this measure not only directly assisted its increase, but had also an important indirect influence; for, when taxation was heavy, many laymen ceded the ownership of their estates to the monasteries, with a secret condition that they should as vassals receive the revenues unburdened by taxation, and subject only to a slight payment to the monks as to their feudal lords.2 The monks were regarded as the trustees of the poor, and also as themselves typical poor, and all the promises that applied to those who gave to the poor, applied, it was said, to the benefactors of the monasteries. The monastic chapel also contained the relics of saints or sacred images of miraculous power, and throngs of worshippers were attracted by the miracles, and desired to place themselves under the protection, of the saint. It is no exaggeration to say, that to give money to the priests was for several centuries

1 Moschus, Pratum Spirituale (Rosweyde), cap. cxcv. M. Wallon quotes from the Life of St.-Jean l'Aumônier an even stranger event which happened to St. Peter Telonearius. Pour repousser les importunités des pauvres, il leur jetait des pierres. Un jour, n'en trouvant pas sous la main, il leur jeta un pain à la tête. Il tomba malade et eut une vision. Ses mérites étaient comptés; d'un côté étaient tous ses crimes, de l'autre ce pain jeté comme une insulte aux pauvres et accepté comme une aumône par Jésus-Christ.'-Hist. de l'Esclavage, tome iii. p. 397.

I may mention here that the ancient Gauls were said to have been accustomed to lend money on the condition of its being repaid by the lender in the next life. (Val. Maximus, lib. ii. cap. vi. § 10.)

2 Muratori, Antich. Italiane, diss. lxvii.