riests instructed the people in symbolism, and
from the researches of Dom Pitra we know that in the Middle Ages Saint
Melito's treatise was popular and known to all. Thus the peasant learnt
that his plough was an image of the Cross, that the furrows it made were
like the hearts of saints freshly tilled; he knew that sheaves were the
fruit of repentance, flour the multitude of the faithful, the granary
the Kingdom of Heaven; and it was the same with many pursuits. In short,
this method of analogies was a bidding to everybody to watch and pray
better.

Thus utilized, symbolism became a break to check the forward march of
sin, and at the same time a sort of lever to uplift souls and help them
to overleap the stages of the mystical life.

This science, translated into so many languages, was no doubt
intelligible only in broad outline to the masses, and sometimes, when it
percolated through the labyrinthine maze of such minds as that of the
worthy Bishop of Mende, it appeared overwrought, full of contradictions,
and of double meanings. It seems then as if the symbolist were splitting
a hair with embroidery scissors. But, in spite of the extravagance it
tolerated and smiled at, the Church succeeded, nevertheless, by these
tactics of repetition, in saving souls and carrying out on a large scale
the production of saints.

Then came the Renaissance, and symbolism was wrecked at the same time as
church architecture.

Mysticism in the stricter sense of the word, more fortunate than its
handmaidens, survived that period of festive dishonour; for it may be
safely asserted that, though it was unproductive while living through
that period, it flourished anew in Spain, producing its noblest blossoms
in Saint John of the Cross and Saint Teresa.

Since then doctrinal mysticism seems dried up at the source. Not so,
however, as regards personal mysticism, which still dwells acclimatized
and flourishing in convents.

As to the Liturgy and plain-song, they too have gone through very
various phases. After being dissected and filtered in the numberless
provincial Uses, the Liturgy was brought back to the standard of Rome by
the efforts of Dom Gueranger, and it may be hoped that the Benedictines
at last will also bring all the churches back to the strict use of
plain-song.

"And this church above all!" sighed Durtal.

He looked at his cathedral, loving it better than ever now that he was
to part from it for a few days. To impress it t