Has Mr. Wells never heard of all the great, though unsuccessful, popular rebellions in England under the late Tudors, or of the much more violent and successful rebellions of the populace against the threat of Huguenot domination in France? He must know them, because they are in every cinema show. But he certainly has no idea of what they were. These popular rebellions were furious protests under arms against the murder of that Catholic culture which was not only necessary to the scant happiness of the poor on this sad earth, but felt also by them to be Divine. I find another piece of ignorance on page 502: “Luther had taken,” says Mr. Wells, “to reading the Bible.” Of course, the setting of the Bible up as an authority against tradition was a necessary part of the sectarian movement. Stated thus, you have an historical truth. But the idea that a cultivated man of the early sixteenth century did not know the Bible, or (for that matter) the idea that the rudest peasant of the sixteenth century did not know _what was in_ his Bible, is as unhistorical as would be a Russian’s idea that knowledge of racing in England to-day was confined to rich owners of horses. Mr. Wells is perfectly right when he says that the Princes made a political reformation; but he is perfectly wrong when he imagines a great popular repudiation of religion to have been going on at the same time. There were mobs, as there always are in times of disturbance. But they came _after_ political rebellion against the Church: not before it. They followed the rich. They did not urge the rich. There was popular rising against the pressure of the wealthy and the inequalities of life—as there always is when the organization of society is shaken. But there was no _popular_ rising against _doctrine_; only a few “intellectual” cliques. There was no protest of the “common man” of Europe against the only food whereby his soul may live. On the contrary, it was the Common Man who saved the Catholic Church in spite of the nobles and the princes and their dependent apostate priests, the Luthers and the Knoxes, and the rest—who would never have gone down to fame but for the use their atheist and glutton masters made of them. I may put the whole attitude of our Author towards the Reformation in the simple but true phrase that he does not describe what took place; he does no more than repeat the stories of his childhood. To read him one would imagine that the Catholic Church broke up and disappeared, that it broke up and disappeared under a popular uprising, and that the popular uprising was due to the quarrel of plain sturdy fellows, like himself, with theological dogma. Indeed, he uses the word “theological” and the word “dogma” as though they connoted something irrational. What would Mr. Wells write down if you asked for a strict definition of the word “theological” and of the word “dogma” He uses them as mere terms of abuse: yet they have a meaning for educated men.