hadeless and one breathed
hot, dry perfume instead of air--it was here that Mr. Scogan elected to
sit. He thrived on untempered sunlight.

"Consider, for example, the case of Luther and Erasmus." He took out
his pipe and began to fill it as he talked. "There was Erasmus, a man
of reason if ever there was one. People listened to him at first--a
new virtuoso performing on that elegant and resourceful instrument, the
intellect; they even admired and venerated him. But did he move them to
behave as he wanted them to behave--reasonably, decently, or at least a
little less porkishly than usual? He did not. And then Luther appears,
violent, passionate, a madman insanely convinced about matters in which
there can be no conviction. He shouted, and men rushed to follow
him. Erasmus was no longer listened to; he was reviled for his
reasonableness. Luther was serious, Luther was reality--like the Great
War. Erasmus was only reason and decency; he lacked the power, being a
sage, to move men to action. Europe followed Luther and embarked on
a century and a half of war and bloody persecution. It's a melancholy
story." Mr. Scogan lighted a match. In the intense light the flame was
all but invisible. The smell of burning tobacco began to mingle with the
sweetly acrid smell of the lavender.

"If you want to get men to act reasonably, you must set about persuading
them in a maniacal manner. The very sane precepts of the founders of
religions are only made infectious by means of enthusiasms which to a
sane man must appear deplorable. It is humiliating to find how impotent
unadulterated sanity is. Sanity, for example, informs us that the only
way in which we can preserve civilisation is by behaving decently and
intelligently. Sanity appeals and argues; our rulers persevere in their
customary porkishness, while we acquiesce and obey. The only hope is a
maniacal crusade; I am ready, when it comes, to beat a tambourine with
the loudest, but at the same time I shall feel a little ashamed of
myself. However"--Mr. Scogan shrugged his shoulders and, pipe in hand,
made a gesture of resignation--"It's futile to complain that things are
as they are. The fact remains that sanity unassisted is useless. What
we want, then, is a sane and reasonable exploitation of the forces of
insanity. We sane men will have the power yet." Mr. Scogan's eyes shone
with a more than ordinary brightness, and, taking his pipe out of his
mouth, he gave vent to his loud, dry