That is, I think, a very good theory of life for some people,
though I think it is a little barbarous; it is Spartan rather than
Athenian.
Some of my critics take a higher kind of ground, and say that I
want to minimise and melt down the old stern beliefs and principles
of morality into a kind of nebulous emotion. They remind me a
little of an old country squire of whom I have heard, of the John
Bull type, whose younger son, a melancholy and sentimental youth,
joined the Church of Rome. His father was determined that this
should not separate them, and asked him to come home and talk it
over. He told his eldest son that he was going to remonstrate with
the erring youth in a simple and affectionate way. The eldest son
said that he hoped his father would do it tactfully and gently, as
his brother was highly sensitive, to which his father replied that
he had thought over what he meant to say, and was going to be very
reasonable. The young man arrived, and was ushered into the study
by his eldest brother. "Well," said the squire, "very glad to see
you, Harry; but do you mean to tell me that your mother's religion
is not good enough for a damned ass like you?"
Now far from desiring to minimise faith in God and the Unseen, I
think it is the thing of which the world is more in need than
anything else.
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