Few legacies of the first centuries of modern thought have been as harmful as the divorce between the two manifestations of human activity. It was, however, inevitable. Faith in the positive teaching of the Church was the first snare into which early thinkers fell; for it is not exact to say that they professed the existence of two truths merely to escape danger. They firmly believed it. Most of them were good Catholics, and as sure in their scientific maturity as in the days of their childhood that the Church was right. On the other hand they were sure of the result of their observations and experiments. They were sure in both cases, and so they simply inferred the co-existence of two truths. Nowadays, it sounds childish and the reciprocal limitation of the two truths would be obvious to any modern student, but in those days the problem had not received the light that it has received since; and they were perfectly in earnest. The philosophers followed suit for two obvious reasons; science was still for a very long time identified with philosophy, and the sixteenth century thinkers, when they were faced by the dilemma of being heretics or of discarding their passionate researches, took to considering religion as belonging to the practical manifestation of mind whilst scientific and philosophic researches were its theoretical activity. One more step and religion was to be identified as the enemy of science. * * * * * When Europe emerged from what has been called the Dark Ages of obscurantism—in antithesis to the age of light to which belonged the writers who thus labelled an epoch, which was dark and obscure to them merely because they knew very little about it—intellectual life was so full of buoyancy that men fretted at the tethers of a school of thought which they could disregard after having come to such efficiency under its discipline that they felt like boys coming intellectually of age. Scholasticism having patronised Aristotle as “The Philosopher,” Plato was for the first time opposed to him, then Neo-platonism; then modern “national” schools of thought arose at the breaking up of the intellectual world. For a United Intellectual States of Europe existed during the Middle Ages; and the biographies of St. Anselm and St. Thomas tell us eloquently how, in their centuries, a man could pass from country to country to follow his studies with the greatest simplicity. At the time of St. Anselm, nationality could not be traced in a man’s works. By the time Roger Bacon wrote the differences had developed, and it is not impossible to find his character as a sturdy Briton standing out distinctly in his works. Such national tendencies expressed themselves only in matters of little moment, and it is a fact that the wonderful correspondence which passed between scholars kept the humanism of each country in touch with that of all others; it is