g the war of 1570, when from Bordeaux men saw the church
of Lormont across the river burning in the name of religion, the old
folks shook their heads and recalled the words of the saintly Thomas.

Less fortunate was a young Franconian herdsman, John Beheim, of
Niklashausen--a 'poor illiterate', Trithemius calls him. In the summer
of 1476, as he watched his flocks in the fields, he had a vision of
the gracious Mother of God, who bade him preach repentance to the
people. His fame soon spread, and multitudes gathered from great
distances to hear him. The nearest knelt to entreat his blessing,
those further off pressed up to touch him, and if possible, snatched
off pieces of his garments, till he was driven to speak from an upper
window. But his way was not plain. Instigated seemingly by others, he
began to touch things social: taxes should not be paid to princes, nor
tithes to clergy; rivers and forests were God's common gifts to men,
where all might fish or hunt at will. Such words were not to be borne.
The Bishop of Wurzburg, his diocesan, took counsel with the Archbishop
of Mainz; and the prophet was ordered to be burnt. But death only
increased his fame. Still greater crowds flocked to visit the scene of
his holy life, until in January 1477 the Archbishop had the church of
Niklashausen razed to the ground as the only means of suppressing this
popular canonization.

We make a great mistake if we allow ourselves to suppose that because
that age knew less than ours, because its bounds were narrower and the
undispelled clouds lower down, it therefore thought itself feeble and
purblind. By contrast with the strenuous hurry-push of modern life
such movement as we can see, looking backwards, seems slow and
uncertain of its aim; before the power of modern armaments how
helpless all the might of Rome! It is easy to fall into the idea that
our mediaeval forefathers moved in the awkward attitudes of
pre-Raphaelite painting, that their speech sounded as quaint to them
as it does to us now, and that it was hardly possible for them to take
life seriously. But in fact each age is to itself modern, progressive,
up-to-date; the strong and active pushing their way forward, impatient
of trifling, and carrying their fellows with them. A future age that
has leapt from one planet to another, or even from one system to
another sun and its dependants, that has 'called forth Mazzaroth in
his seasons, and loosed the bands of Orion', that has c