Under this aspect the new spiritual system is obviously superior to the old. By the institution of celibacy, which was indispensable to Catholicism, its priests were entirely removed from the beneficial influence exercised by women. Only those could profit from it who did not belong to the ecclesiastical body; the members of that body, as Ariosto has remarked in his vigorous satire, were excluded. Nor could the evil be remedied, except in very rare cases, by irregular attachment, which inevitably corrupted the priest’s character by involving the necessity of perpetual hypocrisy. And when we look at the difference of the spirit by which the two systems are pervaded, we shall find still more striking evidence that the new system offers a far larger sphere of moral influence to women than the old. Both are based upon the principle of affection; but in Positivism the affection inculcated is social, in Catholicism it is essentially personal. The object of Catholic devotion is one of such stupendous magnitude, that feelings which are unconnected with it are in danger of being crushed. The priesthood, it is true, wise interpreters in this respect of a general instinct, brought all the more important social obligations within the compass of religion, and held them out as necessary for salvation. Indirectly, the nobler feelings were thus called into action; but at the same time they were rendered far less spontaneous and pure. There could be no perfectly disinterested affection under a system which promised eternal rewards for all acts of self-denial. For it was impossible, and indeed it would have been thought sinful, to keep the future out of sight; and thus all spontaneous generosity was unavoidably tainted by self-interest. Catholicism gave rise to an ignoble theory of morals which became very mischievous when it was adopted by the metaphysicians; because, while retaining the vicious principle, they swept away the checks by which the priesthood had controlled it. But even when we look at the purest form in which the love of God was exhibited, we cannot call it a social feeling, except in so far as the same object of worship was held out simultaneously to all. Intrinsically, it is anti-social, since, when attained in absolute perfection, it implies the entire sacrifice of all other love. And in the best representatives of Christian thought and feeling, this tendency is very apparent. No one has portrayed the Catholic ideal with such sublimity and pathos as the author of the _Imitation_, a work which so well deserved the beautiful translation of Corneille. And yet, reading it as I do daily, I cannot help remarking how grievously the natural nobleness of Thomas A’Kempis was impaired by the Catholic system, although in spite of all obstacles he rises at times to the purest ardour. Certainly those of our feelings which are purely unselfish must be far stronger and more spontaneous than ever