VI.
Character Of The Knowledge Of The Middle Ages.
The language of a people is One of the Signs that mark its progress Or decay. If the genius of a language is fully developed, the nation is in its apogee; if it is not developed, or if it is losing its purity, the nation is progressing or declining. This is a truth remarked by one of the most active minds of the last century. "In the thirteenth century," says Rivarol, "the French language had more nearly attained a certain perfection than in the sixteenth." [Footnote 250] He is astonished: he finds the fact "very extraordinary," but he does not explain it. The explanation is easy. The French language was much nearer perfection in the thirteenth than in the sixteenth century, because society was more firmly established. The sixteenth century was an age of transition, the dawn of a great era—an avenue leading to a large city which we pass through, but in which we do not linger. The men of that time, without being aware of it, were preparing for the future. They collected materials for building from the remains of antiquity and the attempts of foreigners; they imitated and did not invent. Consequently their language was obscure and loaded with foreign idioms and antiquated expressions; it was neither bold, nor expressive, nor clear; it was ornamented, rich, and redundant; it was overladen like a tree not pruned; the fruit was hidden by an excess of foliage. A great wind—the agitation of civil war— shook off this exuberant foliage and the fruit appeared; the sun of the seventeenth century warmed and colored it with its rays; then it ripened, and the French language attained its definite form and became immortal.
[Footnote 250: In his Discours sur l'Universalité de la Langue Française, always to the point, and often profound, a writer of our time goes still further: "The language was fully developed and equal to our own," says M. Villemain, Histoire de la Litérature du Moyen Age, lesson x.]
The language of the thirteenth century was as complete and perfect as it could be. At that period were laid the foundations of Christian science. [Footnote 251] Doubtless, each age adding to the knowledge of mankind, that science was not as extended as now, but it had the essential qualities of true science: it was analytical; it constantly applied this axiom, which is the condition of progress: Multùm, non multa. Everything corresponds: the science of the Egyptians was on a level with their arts; their philosophy was as complex as their religion was mysterious. It was the same in the middle ages. They possessed the true religion, had right views of philosophy, attained to eminence in the arts, and made accurate scientific observations. And late researches have shown that they greatly extended the knowledge they inherited from antiquity. [Footnote 252] Their alchemists and physicians were not charlatans. The general principles of Albertus Magnus and the Jewish and Arabian physicians of Spain and Asia harmonize with those of modern science. They were ignorant of certain phenomena, as a certain skill was wanting to the artists of the time; but this ignorance can no more be raised as an objection than against the learned men of our time for not knowing the scientific discoveries of a thousand years hence. It is not extent of knowledge that stamps an epoch as great, but the use it makes of it, and the logical conclusions it draws from its principles.
[Footnote 251: La Raison Catholique et la Raison philosophe, ii., by Ventura.]
[Footnote 252: Littré, ibid.]
The science of the middle ages was eminently logical, for it had its source in a mountain whose summit rises to heaven—in theology—whence it flows in streams upon all minds. Theology, it has been said, [Footnote 253] is only the expression of an idea: it is much more, it is the sublime end of thought—the first of all sciences, the science par excellence—the science of God. The sceptre of science belongs to Europe only because it had its source in theology, [Footnote 254] which occupied every mind in the middle ages—the greatest as well as the narrowest minds—"which, dwelling on great things, became great." It prompted them to other attainments. To climb to the heights of knowledge, they had to lay hold of the asperities of the mountain and of all the branches of science one after another; of jurisprudence, civil law—the branch nearest the surface of the earth; then of the physical sciences; afterward of geometry, algebra, astronomy, and the still higher branches, canon law and philosophy! [Footnote 255]
[Footnote 253: Villemain, Histoire de la Littérature da Moyen Age, lesson xviii. He evidently does not comprehend the influence of theology, for he adds, "As in another age the public mind is expressed by politics, the theology of one epoch is the philosophy of another.">[
[Footnote 254: J. de Maistre.]