In the renascence of history which is in a manner the characteristic of our time, the Middle Ages have been the object of peculiar fondness with both criticism and erudition.

We rummage all the dark corners of the libraries, we bring old parchments to light, and in the zeal and ardor we put into our search there is an indefinable touch of piety.
These efforts to make the past live again reveal not merely our curiosity, or the lack of power to grapple with great philosophic problems, they are a token of wisdom and modesty; we are beginning to feel that the present has its roots in the past, and that in the fields of politics and religion, as in others, slow, modest, persevering toil is that which has the best results.
There is also a token of love in this.

We love our ancestors of five or six centuries ago, and we mingle not a little emotion and gratitude with this love.

So, if one may hope everything of a son who loves his parents, we must not despair of an age that loves history.
The Middle Ages form an organic period in the life of humanity.

Like all powerful organisms the period began with a long and mysterious gestation; it had its youth, its manhood, its decrepitude.