inished head, after that. Modern life is settled and done for--in
the opinion of those who have thrown the dart. Only it isn't done for,
really, you know. "Petty," after all, means nothing in that connexion.
Are there, then, artificialities which are not "petty," which are
noble, large, and grand? "Petty" means merely that the users of the
word are just a little cross and out of temper. What they think they
object to is artificialities of any kind, and so to get rid of their
spleen they refer to "petty" artificialities. The device is a common
one, and as brilliant as it is futile. Rude adjectives are like blank
cartridge. They impress a vain people, including the birds of the air,
but they do no execution.

At the same time, let me admit that I deeply sympathize with the
irritated users of the impolite phrase "petty artificialities." For it
does at any rate show a "divine discontent"; it does prove a high
dissatisfaction with conditions which at best are not the final
expression of the eternal purpose. It does make for a sort of crude
and churlish righteousness. I well know that feeling which induces one
to spit out savagely the phrase "petty artificialities of modern
life." One has it usually either on getting up or on going to bed.
What a petty artificial business it is, getting up, even for a male!
Shaving! Why shave? And then going to a drawer and choosing a necktie.
Fancy an immortal soul, fancy a fragment of the eternal and
indestructible energy, which exists from everlasting to everlasting,
deliberately expending its activity on the choice of a necktie! Why a
necktie? Then one goes downstairs and exchanges banal phrases with
other immortals. And one can't start breakfast immediately, because
some sleepy mortal is late.

Why babble? Why wait? Why not say straight out: "Go to the deuce, all
of you! Here it's nearly ten o'clock, and me anxious to begin living
the higher life at once instead of fiddling around in petty
artificialities. Shut up, every one of you. Give me my bacon
instantly, and let me gobble it down quick and be off. I'm sick of
your ceremonies!" This would at any rate not be artificial. It would
save time. And if a similar policy were strictly applied through the
day, one could retire to a well-earned repose in the full assurance
that the day had been simplified. The time for living the higher life,
the time for pushing forward those vast schemes of self-improvement
which we all cherish, would deci