THE SPIRIT OF MODERNISM.

The particular "Modernism "Modernism" officially condemned by the Church is not so much the subject of this writing as is that universal modernism of which it seems to be a part, a particular manifestation. For, after all, modernism is becoming to be seen more and more clearly as an attitude not only towards religion but towards everything. In fact, it is something deeper and vaster than a "mental attitude." mental attitude." It is rather a condition of soul of the present-day man from the most cultured professor down to the street-paver and child. It affects every part of him-heart and emotion as much as his thinking: colors every act of his daily existence, his labor and song and art and play and education no less than his religion. Taking the past, chiefly the Medieval past, as a view-point, a sort of comparative" test, this condition does in innumerable ways seem an unhealthy one. The following pages give the reasons for this opinion. There is, of course an immense amount of good in any civilization, in this particular age perhaps a comparatively unusual amount. But the good is patent and never lacks its exponents. Whereas the evil is always insidious, peculiarly so now because we are blinded by our success. So that, this age, more than any I know of, does really need to be told its faults in the almost desperate hope that with that knowledge it can preserve the good. It is in such a spirit that the following criticisms are offered.

I. THE INDIVIDUAL WITHERS.

Now, as directly compared with a man of the days, say, of Richard Plantagenet, the average modern seems woefully lacking in individuality. Though there is marvellous variety in their activities and even results, yet the men themselves lack

that same variety, because they lack individuality. Peoples are less unlike now than at any period of the race.

To comprehend the justice of this criticism, just remember that our political or civil or social grouping inevitably tends to produce such a result. In the middle ages the grouping was "feudal." That is in small units, restricted areas. True, there was a theoretical vast grouping into what was termed The Holy Roman Empire," also large groupings into what were more or less called France or England. But the Empire was never more than an imperial dream in practice and those so-called "nations" were, after all, not much more than a loose conglomeration of semi-independent fiefs, with a confusing infinite variety of languages, dialects and customs. Moreover, as travel was so difficult and dangerous, intercourse was vastly more restricted than now. Peoples of even the same country seldom met to exchange ideas except at the great universities or the fairs or the wars or Church councils. Each little city or country-side lived its own peculiar life, receiving and giving little influence so far as its neighbors were concerned.

The consequence was a wonderful, almost bizarre variety, and, therefore, distinctive individuality in Medieval life. There was a strong flavor of " personality" wherever the historian looks into those ages. People seldom copied. They rather seemed to take sheer delight in creating, in doing things each in his own way-be it the building of a church or painting or sculpturing or emblazoning a shield or fashioning his apparel or founding a new religious order. Variety, difference, strong personality everywhere. And because of this, also a grace and charm and joyousness as of men who loved what they did because the creation was part of themselves. Nowhere was there dead monotony, dreary sameness, weary eternal similitude as of men tired of life, of work, of creating, of doing. But a blitheness and vigor and youthful enthusiasm and fearless originality.

How different with us. Our social grouping is on a vast scale, almost worldwide, at least so far as civilized nations are in question, particularly in the United States. Peoples have

gradually coalesced into huge homogeneous bodies politic of millions living under uniform law, speaking identically the same tongue, practising the same customs. The telegraph and the railroad and ocean steamship and newspaper have broken down even the social barrier between these bodies of nations, making them intimately acquainted with one another socially, with one another's literature and ways and possessions. Ibsen is familiar in Boston, Mark Twain in St. Petersburg, The modern American of even small means has trotted from the Hudson to the Himalayas. Lastly, socialism, with its strange gospel of numerical sameness, is helping also to tear down the barriers of difference hitherto distinguishing nations.

And so, as a consequence, strange and disturbing to our pride as it sounds, civilized man today has less real individuality than at any other period of his existence. Peoples are less unlike than ever. We all dress alike whether in New York or London or Paris or Berlin or Rome or Moscow or Madrid or Copenhagen. Everywhere one goes it is pretty much the same old things, except for what relics of Medieval individualism are still left, the same old hotels, the same rows of monotonous brick houses, same old trains and so forth. Your guide, Mr. Cook, knows everybody. Above all, here in the United States have racial distinctions been boiled together in one huge melting-pot. And I know of no country on the face of the earth which at any time has presented less individuality, less picturesqueness, less personality, less variety, less spontaneity. We all talk alike, think alike (when we do really think, which is not often), dress alike, etc. We Americans, with all our undeniable greatness in some lines, are, nevertheless, the most monotonous set of humans that ever lived. With all our huge population and wealth and physical energy and marvellous resources, we do not right now at this moment create (except in physical science) as much really great things as little Florence was doing under the Medicis. In art, music, literature, philosophy, theology, architecture, in all those things which really do make for life, for the real man, we are slavish copyists or else ridiculous amateurs. And, what is worse yet,

as a result of this monotony we are far from being a happy race as I will point out in detail below. Our very activity in travel and mechanical inventions is, after all, as much a sign of spiritual restlessness as of innate genius. We go, go, go forever at a tremendous pace until the land becomes covered with sanitaria for nerves stretched to the concert-pitch of imminent insanity. The Individual withers and the world is more and more," sighed Tennyson. And every thinking man hears that sigh echoing in his own disturbed soul. The classic "taedium vitae " is upon us. Spencer's "heterogeneous homogenity" is a fact, and in plain English that means dreary monotony, weariness of soul, loss of that creative individuality and spirituality which alone make life worth living. This is the first characteristic of Modernism-dreary sameness in social life.

II. THE IGNORING OF RELIGION.

Ruskin, in a most remarkable way, anticipated Pope Pius X in coining the word "Modernism "-a bit of news, by the way, for those inclined to sneer at the latter's use of it. In his Lecture IV on "Architecture and Painting "-Pre-Raphaelitism-he said boldly: " Modernism began and continues whereever civilization began, and continues to deny Christ." I would amend this statement to read thus: "Modernism began and continues wherever civilization began and continues to ignore not only Christ, but religion itself." For, herein consists one of the most salient and terrible characteristics of the modern spirit—namely, it ignores God practically in the sense that it dissociates religion from its political and social and artistic and commercial life. And so far as I can see, this is something absolutely new in the history of mankind, distinctly Modern. In this sense, I say unhesitatingly that we are the most un-religious race that ever lived, more unreligious than any pagan, savage or cultured. Now, right away I will be told that never before in the world's history were there more people professing Christianity or at least living under its sway.

Also in refutation of the above ridiculous and extravagant statement will be cited the Lord's Day piety of millions of believers; then, too, there are the churches and orphanages and homes for all sorts of afflicted, charity organizations, the boatloads of Bibles sent to the heathens, etc.

Yes; all very true. But all this does not touch the real point. To understand this, just recall what sort of rôle religion played in pagan Rome and Greece and in Catholic Medievalism, and you will see at a glance what an unimportant one it holds now with us. Now, whether in classic or medieval times religion entered into every act of life—that is the point. For illustration, let us consider two aspects of that past life which to the modern man seem to have least connection with religion-art and politics.

Art, therefore, to start with, in classic times was one with art in medieval times in this, that it almost exclusively expressed the faith of the race. Cicero's and Catiline's houses on the Palatine were not adorned with paintings and sculpture of Egyptian or Persian myths, but with the figures of the gods and goddesses which people then believed in. A most idolatrous religion no doubt and most sensual Venuses no doubt. But the point is that the art in their private houses and public places everywhere expressed their faith, their religion, crude however it may have been. Their very Penetralia or household gods ever bore silent witness to the intimate connection existing between their religion and daily, personal, domestic life. Their very temples were hardly more religious in adornment that their actual houses. The statues of Jupiter and Juno and Mercury and a host of lesser deities looked down upon their votaries at work in the Forum or at play in the Circus Maximus. There was not a place nor a season nor an art which was not specifically connected with religion and bore often emphatic testimony to the same in paint or stone.

Herein the Medieval man was more akin to the pagan than the modern, despite the fundamental difference in the kind of religion, because the God, the Christ and the saints, were as