eleventh century, "is not contrary to reason, but it is
above reason. If, like the philosophers, one willeth not to believe
anything but what reason comprehends, faith, in this case, hath no merit.
The merit is in believing that which, without being contrary to reason,
is above it. . . . Faith is certainty in respect of things which fall
not under the perceptions of the body; it is below knowledge, for to
believe is less than to know; and it is above opinion, for to believe is
more than to imagine." "I do not seek to understand in order to
believe," says St. Anselm; "I believe in order to understand. . . .
Authority requires faith in order to prepare man for reason." But
"authority," said St. Columban, in the sixth century, "proceeds from
right reason, not at all reason from authority. Every authority whereof
the decrees are not approved of by right reason appears mighty weak."
Minds so liberal in the face of authority, and at the same time attached
to revealed and traditional faith, could not but be sometimes painfully
perplexed. "My wounded spirit," said Adam of the Premontre-order (le
premontre), in the twelfth century, "calls to her aid that which is the
source of all grace and all life. But where is it? What is it? In her
trouble the spirit hath love abiding; but she knows no longer what it is
she loves, what she ought to love. She addresseth herself to the stones
and to the rocks, and saith to them, 'What are ye?' And the stones and
the rocks make answer, 'We are creatures of the same even as thou art.'
To the like question the sun, the moon, and the stars make the like
answer. The spirit doth interrogate the sand of the sea, the dust of the
earth, the drops of rain, the days of the years, the hours of the days,
the moments of the hours, the turf of the fields, the branches of the
trees, the leaves of the branches, the scales of fish, the wings of
birds, the utterances of men, the voices of animals, the movements of
bodies, the thoughts of minds; and these things declare, all with one
consent, unto the spirit, 'We are not that which thou demandest; search
up above us, and thou wilt find our Creator!'" In the tenth century,
Remigius the theologian had gone still farther: "I have resolved," said
he, "to make an investigation as to my God; for it doth not suffice me to
believe in Him; I wish further to see somewhat of Him. I feel that there
is somewhat beyond my spirit. If my spirit should abide wi