The Story of Mankind [82]
read by quite as many people
as ever studied the Holy Scriptures. It has influenced the
lives of countless millions. And it was the work of a man
whose highest ideal of existence was expressed in the simple
wish that ``he might quietly spend his days sitting in a little
corner with a little book.''
Good Brother Thomas represented the purest ideals of the
Middle Ages. Surrounded on all sides by the forces of the
victorious Renaissance, with the humanists loudly proclaiming
the coming of modern times, the Middle Ages gathered
strength for a last sally. Monasteries were reformed. Monks
gave up the habits of riches and vice. Simple, straightforward
and honest men, by the example of their blameless
and devout lives, tried to bring the people back to the ways of
righteousness and humble resignation to the will of God. But
all to no avail. The new world rushed past these good people.
The days of quiet meditation were gone. The great era of
``expression'' had begun.
Here and now let me say that I am sorry that I must use
so many ``big words.'' I wish that I could write this history in
words of one syllable. But it cannot be done. You cannot
write a text-book of geometry without reference to a hypotenuse
and triangles and a rectangular parallelopiped. You
simply have to learn what those words mean or do without
mathematics. In history (and in all life) you will eventually
be obliged to learn the meaning of many strange words of
Latin and Greek origin. Why not do it now?
When I say that the Renaissance was an era of expression,
I mean this: People were no longer contented to be the
audience and sit still while the emperor and the pope told
them what to do and what to think. They wanted to be actors
upon the stage of life. They insisted upon giving ``expression''
to their own individual ideas. If a man happened to be interested
in statesmanship like the Florentine historian, Niccolo
Macchiavelli, then he ``expressed'' himself in his books which
revealed his own idea of a successful state and an efficient
ruler. If on the other hand he had a liking for painting, he
``expressed'' his love for beautiful lines and lovely colours in
the pictures which have made the names of Giotto, Fra Angelico,
Rafael and a thousand others household words wherever
people have learned to care for those things which express
a true and lasting beauty.
If this love for colour and line happened to be combined with
an interest in mechanics and hydraulics, the result was a Leonardo
da Vinci, who painted his pictures, experimented with
his balloons and flying machines, drained the marshes of the
Lombardian plains and ``expressed'' his joy and interest in all
things between Heaven and Earth in prose, in painting, in
sculpture and in curiously conceived engines. When a man of
gigantic strength, like Michael Angelo, found the brush and
the palette too soft for his strong hands, he turned to sculpture
and to architecture, and hacked the most terrific creatures out
of heavy blocks of marble and drew the plans for the church
of St. Peter, the most concrete ``expression'' of the glories
of the triumphant church. And so it went.
All Italy (and very soon all of Europe) was filled with
men and women who lived that they might add their mite to
the sum total of our accumulated treasures of knowledge and
beauty and wisdom. In Germany, in the city of Mainz, Johann
zum Gansefleisch, commonly known as Johann Gutenberg, had
just invented a new method of copying books. He had studied
the old woodcuts and had perfected a system by which individual
letters of soft lead could be placed in such a way that
they formed words and whole pages. It is true, he soon lost
all his money in a law-suit which had to do with the original
invention of the press. He died in poverty, but the ``expression''
of his particular inventive genius lived after him.
Soon Aldus in Venice
as ever studied the Holy Scriptures. It has influenced the
lives of countless millions. And it was the work of a man
whose highest ideal of existence was expressed in the simple
wish that ``he might quietly spend his days sitting in a little
corner with a little book.''
Good Brother Thomas represented the purest ideals of the
Middle Ages. Surrounded on all sides by the forces of the
victorious Renaissance, with the humanists loudly proclaiming
the coming of modern times, the Middle Ages gathered
strength for a last sally. Monasteries were reformed. Monks
gave up the habits of riches and vice. Simple, straightforward
and honest men, by the example of their blameless
and devout lives, tried to bring the people back to the ways of
righteousness and humble resignation to the will of God. But
all to no avail. The new world rushed past these good people.
The days of quiet meditation were gone. The great era of
``expression'' had begun.
Here and now let me say that I am sorry that I must use
so many ``big words.'' I wish that I could write this history in
words of one syllable. But it cannot be done. You cannot
write a text-book of geometry without reference to a hypotenuse
and triangles and a rectangular parallelopiped. You
simply have to learn what those words mean or do without
mathematics. In history (and in all life) you will eventually
be obliged to learn the meaning of many strange words of
Latin and Greek origin. Why not do it now?
When I say that the Renaissance was an era of expression,
I mean this: People were no longer contented to be the
audience and sit still while the emperor and the pope told
them what to do and what to think. They wanted to be actors
upon the stage of life. They insisted upon giving ``expression''
to their own individual ideas. If a man happened to be interested
in statesmanship like the Florentine historian, Niccolo
Macchiavelli, then he ``expressed'' himself in his books which
revealed his own idea of a successful state and an efficient
ruler. If on the other hand he had a liking for painting, he
``expressed'' his love for beautiful lines and lovely colours in
the pictures which have made the names of Giotto, Fra Angelico,
Rafael and a thousand others household words wherever
people have learned to care for those things which express
a true and lasting beauty.
If this love for colour and line happened to be combined with
an interest in mechanics and hydraulics, the result was a Leonardo
da Vinci, who painted his pictures, experimented with
his balloons and flying machines, drained the marshes of the
Lombardian plains and ``expressed'' his joy and interest in all
things between Heaven and Earth in prose, in painting, in
sculpture and in curiously conceived engines. When a man of
gigantic strength, like Michael Angelo, found the brush and
the palette too soft for his strong hands, he turned to sculpture
and to architecture, and hacked the most terrific creatures out
of heavy blocks of marble and drew the plans for the church
of St. Peter, the most concrete ``expression'' of the glories
of the triumphant church. And so it went.
All Italy (and very soon all of Europe) was filled with
men and women who lived that they might add their mite to
the sum total of our accumulated treasures of knowledge and
beauty and wisdom. In Germany, in the city of Mainz, Johann
zum Gansefleisch, commonly known as Johann Gutenberg, had
just invented a new method of copying books. He had studied
the old woodcuts and had perfected a system by which individual
letters of soft lead could be placed in such a way that
they formed words and whole pages. It is true, he soon lost
all his money in a law-suit which had to do with the original
invention of the press. He died in poverty, but the ``expression''
of his particular inventive genius lived after him.
Soon Aldus in Venice