the story of mankind-第36节

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Florence。　At　the　age　of　fifteen　he　was　sent　to　Montpellier

in　France　that　he　might　become　a　lawyer　like　his　father。　But

the　boy　did　not　want　to　be　a　jurist。　He　hated　the　law。　He

wanted　to　be　a　scholar　and　a　poetand　because　he　wanted　to

be　a　scholar　and　a　poet　beyond　everything　else；　he　became　one；

as　people　of　a　strong　will　are　apt　to　do。　He　made　long

voyages；　copying　manuscripts　in　Flanders　and　in　the　cloisters

along　the　Rhine　and　in　Paris　and　Liege　and　finally　in　Rome。

Then　he　went　to　live　in　a　lonely　valley　of　the　wild　mountains

of　Vaucluse；　and　there　he　studied　and　wrote　and　soon　he　had

become　so　famous　for　his　verse　and　for　his　learning　that　both

the　University　of　Paris　and　the　king　of　Naples　invited　him

to　come　and　teach　their　students　and　subjects。　On　the　way

to　his　new　job；　he　was　obliged　to　pass　through　Rome。　The

people　had　heard　of　his　fame　as　an　editor　of　half…forgotten

Roman　authors。　They　decided　to　honour　him　and　in　the

ancient　forum　of　the　Imperial　City；　Petrarch　was　crowned　with

the　laurel　wreath　of　the　Poet。



From　that　moment　on；　his　life　was　an　endless　career　of

honour　and　appreciation。　He　wrote　the　things　which　people

wanted　most　to　hear。　They　were　tired　of　theological

disputations。　Poor　Dante　could　wander　through　hell　as　much　as

he　wanted。　But　Petrarch　wrote　of　love　and　of　nature　and　the

sun　and　never　mentioned　those　gloomy　things　which　seemed

to　have　been　the　stock　in　trade　of　the　last　generation。　And

when　Petrarch　came　to　a　city；　all　the　people　flocked　out　to

meet　him　and　he　was　received　like　a　conquering　hero。　If　he

happened　to　bring　his　young　friend　Boccaccio；　the　story　teller；

with　him；　so　much　the　better。　They　were　both　men　of　their

time；　full　of　curiosity；　willing　to　read　everything　once；　digging

in　forgotten　and　musty　libraries　that　they　might　find　still　another

manuscript　of　Virgil　or　Ovid　or　Lucrece　or　any　of　the

other　old　Latin　poets。　They　were　good　Christians。　Of　course

they　were！　Everyone　was。　But　no　need　of　going　around　with

a　long　face　and　wearing　a　dirty　coat　just　because　some　day

or　other　you　were　going　to　die。　Life　was　good。　People　were

meant　to　be　happy。　You　desired　proof　of　this？　Very　well。

Take　a　spade　and　dig　into　the　soil。　What　did　you　find？

Beautiful　old　statues。　Beautiful　old　vases。　Ruins　of　ancient

buildings。　All　these　things　were　made　by　the　people　of　the

greatest　empire　that　ever　existed。　They　ruled　all　the　world

for　a　thousand　years。　They　were　strong　and　rich　and　handsome

（just　look　at　that　bust　of　the　Emperor　Augustus！）。　Of

course；　they　were　not　Christians　and　they　would　never　be

able　to　enter　Heaven。　At　best　they　would　spend　their　days

in　purgatory；　where　Dante　had　just　paid　them　a　visit。



But　who　cared？　To　have　lived　in　a　world　like　that　of

ancient　Rome　was　heaven　enough　for　any　mortal　being。　And

anyway；　we　live　but　once。　Let　us　be　happy　and　cheerful　for

the　mere　joy　of　existence。



Such；　in　short；　was　the　spirit　that　had　begun　to　fill　the

narrow　and　crooked　streets　of　the　many　little　Italian　cities。



You　know　what　we　mean　by　the　‘‘bicycle　craze''　or　the

‘‘automobile　craze。''　Some　one　invents　a　bicycle。　People　who

for　hundreds　of　thousands　of　years　have　moved　slowly　and

painfully　from　one　place　to　another　go　‘‘crazy''　over　the　prospect

of　rolling　rapidly　and　easily　over　hill　and　dale。　Then

a　clever　mechanic　makes　the　first　automobile。　No　longer　is　it

necessary　to　pedal　and　pedal　and　pedal。　You　just　sit　and

let　little　drops　of　gasoline　do　the　work　for　you。　Then　everybody

wants　an　automobile。　Everybody　talks　about　Rolls…

Royces　and　Flivvers　and　carburetors　and　mileage　and　oil。　Explorers

penetrate　into　the　hearts　of　unknown　countries　that

they　may　find　new　supplies　of　gas。　Forests　arise　in　Sumatra

and　in　the　Congo　to　supply　us　with　rubber。　Rubber　and　oil

become　so　valuable　that　people　fight　wars　for　their　possession。

The　whole　world　is　‘‘automobile　mad''　and　little　children　can

say　‘‘car''　before　they　learn　to　whisper　‘‘papa''　and　‘‘mamma。''



In　the　fourteenth　century；　the　Italian　people　went　crazy

about　the　newly　discovered　beauties　of　the　buried　world　of

Rome。　Soon　their　enthusiasm　was　shared　by　all　the　people　of

western　Europe。　The　finding　of　an　unknown　manuscript　became

the　excuse　for　a　civic　holiday。　The　man　who　wrote　a

grammar　became　as　popular　as　the　fellow　who　nowadays　invents

a　new　spark…plug。　The　humanist；　the　scholar　who　devoted　his

time　and　his　energies　to　a　study　of　‘‘homo''　or　mankind　（instead

of　wasting　his　hours　upon　fruitless　theological　investigations）；

that　man　was　regarded　with　greater　honour　and　a　deeper　respect

than　was　ever　bestowed　upon　a　hero　who　had　just　conquered

all　the　Cannibal　Islands。



In　the　midst　of　this　intellectual　upheaval；　an　event　occurred

which　greatly　favoured　the　study　of　the　ancient　philosophers

and　authors。　The　Turks　were　renewing　their　attacks　upon

Europe。　Constantinople；　capital　of　the　last　remnant　of　the

original　Roman　Empire；　was　hard　pressed。　In　the　year　1393

the　Emperor；　Manuel　Paleologue；　sent　Emmanuel　Chrysoloras

to　western　Europe　to　explain　the　desperate　state　of　old　Byzantium

and　to　ask　for　aid。　This　aid　never　came。　The　Roman

Catholic　world　was　more　than　willing　to　see　the　Greek　Catholic

world　go　to　the　punishment　that　awaited　such　wicked　heretics。

But　however　indifferent　western　Europe　might　be　to　the　fate

of　the　Byzantines；　they　were　greatly　interested　in　the　ancient

Greeks　whose　colonists　had　founded　the　city　on　the　Bosphorus

ten　centuries　after　the　Trojan　war。　They　wanted　to　learn

Greek　that　they　might　read　Aristotle　and　Homer　and　Plato。

They　wanted　to　learn　it　very　badly；　but　they　had　no　books　and

no　grammars　and　no　teachers。　The　magistrates　of　Florence

heard　of　the　visit　of　Chrysoloras。　The　people　of　their　city

were　‘‘crazy　to　learn　Greek。''　Would　he　please　come　and

teach　them？　He　would；　and　behold！　the　first　professor　of

Greek　teaching　alpha；　beta；　gamma　to　hundreds　of　eager　young

men；　begging　their　way　to　the　city　of　the　Arno；　living　in　stables

and　in　dingy　attics　that　they　night　learn　how　to　decline　the　verb

　and　enter　into　the　companionship　of

Sophocles　and　Homer。



Meanwhile　in　the　universities；　the　old　schoolmen；　teaching

their　ancient　theology　and　their　antiquated　logic；　explaining

the　hidden　mysteries　of　the　old　Testament　and　discussing　the

strange　science　of　their　Greek…Arabic…Spanish…Latin　edition　of

Aristotle；　looked　on　in　dismay　and　horror。　Next；　they　turned

angry。　This　thing　was　going　too　far。　The　young　men　were

deserting　the　lecture　halls　of　the　established　universities　to

go　and　listen　to　some　wild…eyed　‘‘humanist''　with　his　newfangled

notions　about　a　‘‘reborn　civilization。''



They　went　to　the　authorities。　They　complained。　But　one

cannot　force　an　unwilling　horse　to　drink　and　one　cannot

make　unwilling　ears　listen　to　something　which　does　not　really

interest　them。　The　schoolmen　were　losing　ground　rapidly。　Here

and　there　they　scored　a　short　victory。　They　combined　forces

with　those　fanatics　who　hated　to　see　other　people　enjoy　a

happiness　which　was　foreign　to　their　own　souls。　In　Florence；

the　centre　of　the　Great　Rebirth；　a　terrible　fight　was　fought

between　the　old　order　and　the　new。　A　Dominican　monk；　sour

of　face　and　bitter　in　his　hatred　of　beauty；　was　the　leader　of

the　mediaeval　rear…guard。　He　fought　a　valiant　battle。　Day

after　day　he　thundered　his　warnings　of　God's　holy　wrath

through　the　wide　halls　of　Santa　Maria　del　Fiore。　‘‘Repent；''

he　cried；　‘‘repent　of　your　godlessness；　of　your　joy　in　things

that　are　not　holy！''　He　began　to　hear　voices　and　to　see　flaming

swords　that　flashed　through　the　sky。　He　preached　to　the

little　children　that　they　might　not　fall　into　the　errors　of　these

ways　which　were　leading　their　fathers　to　perdition。　He　organised

companies　of　boy…scouts；　devoted　to　the　service　of　the

great　God　whose　prophet　he　claimed　to　be。　In　a　sudden　moment

of　frenzy；　the　frightened　people　promised　to　do　penance

for　their　wicked　love　of　beauty　and　pleasure。　They　carried

their　books　and　their　statues　and　their　paintings　to　the　market

place　and　celebrated　a　wild　‘‘carnival　of　the　vanities''　with　holy

singing　and　most　unholy　dancing；　while　Savonarola　applied　his

torch　to　the　accumulated　treasures。



But　when　the　ashes　cooled　down；　the　people　began　to　realise

what　they　had　lost。　This　terrible　fanatic　had　made　them　destroy

that　which　they　had　come　to　love　above　all　things。　They

turned　against　him；　Savonarola　was　thrown　into　jail。　He　was

tortured。　But　he　refused　to　repent　for　anything　he　had　done。

He　was　an　honest　man。　He　had　tried　to　live　a　holy　life。　He

had　willingly　destroyed　those　who　deliberately　refused　to

share　his　own　point　of　view。　It　had　been　his　duty　to　eradicate

evil　wherever　he　found　it。　A　love　of　heathenish　books　and

heathenish　beauty　in　the　eyes　of　this　faithful　son　of　the　Church；

had　been　an　evil。　But　he　stood　alone。