ges? What was taught to a boy as
soon as he was able to learn anything? First, to keep under his body,
and bring it into subjection and perfect strength; then to take Christ
for his captain, to live as always in His presence, and finally, to do
his _devoir_--mark the word--to all men. Now consider, first, the
difference in their influence over the armies of France, between the
ancient word "devoir," and modern word "gloire." And, again, ask
yourselves what you expect your own children to be taught at your great
schools and universities. Is it Christian history, or the histories of
Pan and Silenus? Your present education, to all intents and purposes,
denies Christ, and that is intensely and peculiarly Modernism.

119. Or, again, what do you suppose was the proclaimed and understood
principle of all Christian _governments_ in the Middle Ages? I do not
say it was a principle acted up to, or that the cunning and violence of
wicked men had not too often their full sway then as now; but on what
principles were that cunning and violence, so far as was possible,
restrained? By the _confessed_ fear of God, and _confessed_ authority of
His law. You will find that all treaties, laws, transactions whatsoever,
in the Middle Ages, are based on a confession of Christianity as the
leading rule of life; that a text of Scripture is held, in all public
assemblies, strong enough to be set against an appearance of expediency;
and although, in the end, the expediency might triumph, yet it was never
without a distinct allowance of Christian principle, as an efficient
element in the consultation. Whatever error might be committed, at least
Christ was openly confessed. Now what is the custom of your British
Parliament in these days? You know that nothing would excite greater
manifestations of contempt and disgust than the slightest attempt to
introduce the authority of Scripture in a political consultation. That
is denying Christ. It is intensely and peculiarly Modernism.

120. It would be easy to go on showing you this same thing in many more
instances; but my business to-night is to show you its full effect in
one thing only, namely, in art, and I must come straightway to that, as
I have little enough time. This, then, is the great and broad fact which
distinguishes modern art from old art; that all ancient art was
_religious_, and all modern art is _profane_. Once more, your patience
for an instant. I say, all ancient art was religious; that