The Saints, those darling sons of the house, with their dreams and meditations make but little stir; _they look forward waitingly_, as men assured of their part in Elysium. What little energy they have is all centred in the narrow round of _Imitation_; a word which condenses the whole of the Middle Ages. He on the other hand--this accursed bastard whose only lot is the scourge--has no idea of waiting. He is always seeking and will never rest. He busies himself with all things between earth and heaven. He is exceedingly curious; will dig, dive, ferret, and poke his nose everywhere. At the _consummatum est_ he only laughs, the little scoffer! He is always saying “Further,” or “Forward.” Moreover, he is not hard to please. He takes every rebuff; picks up every windfall. For instance, when the Church throws out nature as impure and doubtworthy, Satan fastens on her for his own adornment. Nay, more; he employs her, and makes her useful to him as the fountain-head of the arts; thus accepting the awful name with which others would brand him; to wit, the _Prince of the World_. Some one rashly said, “Woe to those who laugh.” Thus from the first was Satan intrusted with too pretty a part; he had the sole right of laughing, and of declaring it an _amusement_--rather let us say _a necessity_; for laughing is essentially a natural function. Life would be unbearable if we could not laugh, at least in our afflictions. Looking on life as nothing but a trial, the Church is careful not to prolong it. Her medicine is resignation, the looking for and the hope of death. A broad field this for Satan! He becomes the physician, the healer of the living. Better still, he acts as comforter: he is good enough to shew us our dead, to call up the shades of our beloved. One more trifle the Church rejected, namely, logic or free reason. Here was a special dainty, to which _the other_ greedily helped himself. The Church had carefully builded up a small _In pace_, narrow, low-roofed, lighted by one dim opening, a mere cranny. That was called _The School_. Into it were turned loose a few shavelings, with this commandment, “Be free.” They all fell lame. In three or four centuries the paralysis was confirmed, and Ockham’s standpoint is the very same as Abélard’s.[4] [4] Abélard flourished in the twelfth, William of Ockham (pupil of Duns Scotus) in the fourteenth century.--TRANS. It is pleasant to track the Renaissance up to such a point. The Renaissance took place indeed, but how? Through the Satanic daring of those who pierced the vault, through the efforts of the damned who were bent on seeing the sky. And it took place yet more largely away from the schools and the men of letters, in the _School of the Bush_, where Satan had set up a class for the Witch and the shepherd.