scientific spirit? Is it fair to take the words in which they expressed their thought and to interpret these according to our knowledge, our frame of mind; to read into their words our ideas and discoveries; to rearrange their disconnected utterances into systems which they were incapable of constructing; to endeavor by nothing else than a sort of allegorical interpretation to discover our philosophy, our science, our ideals in their writings? Have not even words a greater definiteness and value now than once? When we translate a passage from an ancient language are we not apt to transfigure its thought? These are, however, only questions.
Certainly there was much true scientific knowledge in the Roman Empire. There was sane medical theory and practice, there was a great deal of correct information in regard to plants, animals and the stars. Science was in the ascendant; magic was in its latter stages of decay. We flatter ourselves that it has now quite vanished away; then its doctrines were accepted only in part or in weakened form by men of education. Perhaps, though I am far from asserting this, magic played a less prominent part then in science and in philosophy than in the later Middle Ages. Perhaps we may picture to ourselves the minds of men in the twelfth and thirteenth and succeeding centuries as awakening from a long, intellectual torpor during the chaotic and dreary "Dark Ages," and, eager for knowledge and for mental occupation, but still inexperienced and rather bewildered, as snatching without discrimination at whatever came first to hand of the lore of the past. Thus for a time we might find the most able men of the later age taking on the worst characteristics of the earlier time. But this again is mere speculation.
Moreover, we must remember that, if magic was accepted only in part by men of learning in the Roman Empire, there
