the world to-day is, not the repression of liberty, but that degree and moderation of it which will enable the spirit of man to work out his salvation without destructive violence. Hence, we must conclude, there can be no more important question than that which inquires into the nature and limits of individual liberty. But this great inquiry is not for us. We have to think of the relation of Christianity to the great human problems of our time.

The mission of Christianity is not, in the first instance, political or even social. It is spiritual—a mission to the soul. While it is true that the teachings of Christ give us the first principles of all social wellbeing, for the reason that they give the first principles of morality; it is also true that there is no trace of a social programme. Christ proclaimed the Kingdom, and no one can attempt to realise the Kingdom under earthly conditions and remain indifferent to the social welfare of humanity. Nevertheless, Christ proceeded to form His Kingdom by the simple method of winning the heart of the individual and then uniting in a brotherhood all whose hearts had been won.

It was this method, carried out with singular devotion, which enabled Christianity to dissolve the ancient order and to become the most potent agent in the production of a new world. But in this process, the Christian Church, taking over the essential ideas and the legal framework of Roman Imperialism, and moving in a world in which monarchical principles were everywhere taken for granted, was transformed, in the West, into a monarchy of a new kind. As we read mediaeval history, we see the Popes, when at the height of their power, claiming dominion over every part of human life and actually exercising it. Possessing in the Interdict a weapon more terrifying than any material force, we see them deposing princes, reducing kings to subjection, breaking the Holy Roman Empire, setting in motion great crusades, sometimes against

the infidel in the East, sometimes against the heretic in the West, crushing with ruthless power every spiritual movement which seemed to mark a desire for independence on the part of the mind of man.

It is a profoundly interesting thing to read this history with close attention and then set it beside the simple story of the Gospels. If an effort be made to view the latter with a mind purged from ecclesiastical prejudices, the contrast is extraordinary. Jesus of Nazareth in His simple humanity, going about doing good; teaching simple folk about prayer and holy living and faith in God as "our Father"; setting forth the principles of the good life in language of unexampled sweetness and strength, and never losing Himself in metaphysical subtleties; proclaiming the Kingdom of God in a way which made it quite clear that it was not to be a kingdom of this world; making the appeal to each individual soul, and thus recognising the preciousness and independence of the individual conscience; regarding the saving of the lost sheep as worth every sacrifice; appealing to the sinners and outcasts with unfailing love and understanding; and sometimes using the most unsparing invective against the authorities of the Church to which He belonged and the high professors of religion. Such a Christ is far removed indeed from a Hildebrand or an Innocent III.

STRUGGLES FOR LIBERTY IN THE MIDDLE AGES

Even in the Middle Ages the contrast just indicated was realised. It was the inspiration of those outbreaks and strivings after liberty of conscience which from time to time shook the stability of the mediaeval Church and were put down with so much ferocity. In the reign of Innocent III., when the Papal monarchy was at the very highest height of its power, claiming complete supremacy in temporal things as a part of spiritual power, there broke out, all over Western Christendom,

an

insurrection of the spirit of man against the dominant Church. In almost every instance, this movement can be most clearly traced to a longing for a return to the freedom and simplicity of the primitive Gospel. Even in an age of great ignorance there survived a tradition, or sprang up a vision, of the truth that Christianity is, in essence, not an imperial system, but a free life of the soul inspired by a direct relation to God. "From almost every part of Latin Christendom a cry of indignation and distress is raised by the clergy against the teachers or the sects which are withdrawing the people from their control. It is almost simultaneously heard in England, in Northern France, in Belgium, in Bretagne, in the whole diocese of Rheims, in Orleans, in Paris, in Germany, at Goslar, Cologne, Trèves, Metz, Strassburg. Throughout the whole south of France, and it should seem in Hungary, this sectarianism is the dominant religion. Even in Italy these opinions had made alarming progress. Innocent

himself calls on the cities of Verona, Bologna, Florence, Milan, Placentia, Treviso, Bergamo, Mantua, Ferrara, Faenza, to cast out these multiplying sectaries. Even within or on the very borders of the Papal territory Viterbo is the principal seat of the revolt." 1

That many dangerous heresies, both religious and social, were mixed up with this movement can hardly be denied. It was, indeed, inevitable. But the true inner meaning of the movement is unmistakable.

Nor were the forces behind this great revolt those of mere ignorant or unthinking reaction against constituted authority. Abelard, undoubtedly one of the greatest scholars and thinkers of the Middle Ages, had based all his teachings on the freedom of the human intellect to inquire into all things in heaven and earth. Armed with this principle he had dared to examine into the deepest mysteries of theology. His disciple, Arnold of Brescia, impelled by this new spirit, sought

1 Milman, Latin Christianity, Book IX. ch. viii.

his inspiration in the Gospel of Christ. Here he found the remedy for the diseases of the time-a total abolition of all the pride, pomp, wealth, and secular authority of the Church.

It is impossible to disconnect the influence of these two great spirits of the twelfth century from those widespread movements of the period which immediately followed and which have been already mentioned. In the south of France, especially in Languedoc and Provence, there took place an early renaissance of which, it would seem, history has taken too little account. Here was born a brilliant literature. Here the civilisation of the period reached its highest point. Along with a free and careless life, gay with the songs of troubadours, there sprang up an extraordinary toleration in matters of religion. The authority of the Church was openly defied. It is impossible to deny that among the sects which arose at this time the Manichaean heresy flourished exceedingly. But it must be remembered that we know of these people mainly through the writings of their enemies; and it seems clear that the rigorous asceticism of the Cathari was a rebuke to the luxury and vices of many of the Catholic clergy.

Far simpler and more primitive in their faith were the followers of Peter Waldo, the poor men of Lyons. Their inspiration came directly from the reading of the Gospels, which Peter had caused to be translated into the vulgar tongue. Going forth two by two, in imitation of the seventy, they preached the Gospel to the poor. Even their bitterest foes do not deny the holiness of their lives. Among the simple folk of the Alpine valleys they found their most enduring

success.

All these movements were quenched in blood; the renaissance of civilisation was postponed; freedom of thought, so nearly attained in Southern France, ceased for centuries. Yet a spark remained. It kindled

Dante it inspired Petrarch: it prepared the way for the new learning and for the Reformation.

Brilliant as was the Italian Renaissance when it came, it lacked the moral strength needed for a true re-birth of the human spirit. That could come only when the inflexible mind and will of the peoples of the North were awakened. It is one of the glories of England that this awakening began with John Wyclif. From Wyclif the torch passed to Hus. Both were men of great learning and endowed with intellect of a very high order. But it is worthy of note that, in each case, the liberation of mind came from a return to the study of the Holy Scriptures. Hus appealed from the Pope to Christ. "I, John Hus, offer this appeal to Jesus Christ, my Master and my just Judge, who knows, defends, and judges the just cause."

1

Lecky, in words which have become famous, contrasting Platonism and Stoicism with Christianity, points to the influence of the person and life of Jesus upon the hearts of men: "the simple record of three short years of active life has done more to regenerate and to soften mankind than all the disquisitions of philosophers, and all the exhortations of moralists. This has indeed been the well-spring of whatever is best and purest in Christian life. Amid all the sins and failings, amid all the priestcraft and persecution and fanaticism that have defaced the Church, it has preserved, in the character and example of its Founder, an enduring principle of regeneration." 2

No one can read the history of Christianity without recognising that every fresh and true inspiration which has put new life into the Church owes its origin to this source. The fact of Christ is indeed "an enduring principle of regeneration." But it has not been sufficiently considered that this same fact has also been an enduring principle of liberation. Every step

1 See Milman, Bk. XIII. ch. viii., and Creighton, History of the Papacy, Bk. II. ch. v. 2 History of European Morals, chap. iv.