world: "Petrarch really escaped from a sepulcher when he stepped out of
the cloister of medievalism, with its crucifix, its pictures of
unhealthy saints, its cords of self-flagellation, and found the heavens
clear, beautiful, and well worth living under, and the world full of
good things which one might desire and yet not be given over to evil. He
ventured to look at life for himself and found it full of wonderful
dignity and power. He opened his Virgil, brushed aside the cobwebs which
monkish brains had spun over the beautiful lines, and met the old poet
as one man meets another; and lo! there arose before him a new,
untrodden and wholly human world, free from priestcraft and pedantry,
near to nature and unspeakably alluring and satisfying."

The Dominicans and Jesuits set their faces like flint against all
education tending to liberalize the mind. Here is a passage from a
document published by the Jesuits at their first centenary: "It is
undeniable that we have undertaken a great and uninterrupted war in the
interests of the Catholic church against heresy. Heresy need never hope
that the society will make terms with it, or remain quiescent ... No
peace need be expected, for the seed of hatred is born within us. What
Hamilcar was to Hannibal, Ignatius is to us. At his instigation, we have
sworn upon the altars eternal war." When this proclamation is read in
the light of history, its meaning stands forth with startling clearness.
Almost every truth in science and philosophy, no matter how valuable it
was destined to become as an agent in enhancing the well-being of the
race, has had to wear the stigma of heresy.

It is an interesting speculation to imagine what the intellectual
development of Europe would have been, had secular learning been
commended by the monks, and the common people encouraged to exercise
their minds without fear of excommunication or death. It is sad to
reflect how many great thoughts must have perished still-born in the
student's cloister cell, and to picture the silent grief with which
many a brilliant soul must have repressed his eager imagination.

_The Charity of the Monks_

In the eleventh century, a monk named Thieffroy wrote the following: "It
matters little that our churches rise to heaven, that the capitals of
their pillars are sculptured and gilded, that our parchment is tinted
purple, that gold is melted to form the letters of our manuscripts, and
that their bindings are set wit