ks of mankind with interest, not with
affection. Humanity is a spectacle, not a brotherhood.

When one speaks to him of the confusion and anarchy in the religious
world, and suggests how hard it is for the average man to know which way
he should follow, he replies: "Yes, I'm afraid it's a bad time for the
ordinary man." But then he has laid it down, "There is not the
slightest probability that the largest crowd will ever be gathered in
front of the narrow gate." Still one could wish that he felt in his
heart something of the compassion of his Master for those who have taken
the road of destruction.

He attaches great importance to preaching. He does not at all agree with
the sneer at "preaching-shops." That is a convenient sneer for the
younger generation of ritualists who have nothing to say and who perform
ceremonies they don't understand; not much meaning _there_ for the
modern man. No; preaching is a most important office, although no other
form of professional work is done anything like so badly. But a preacher
who has something to say will always attract intelligent people.

One does not discuss with him the kind of preaching necessary to convert
unintelligent people. That would be to take this great philosopher out
of his depth.

As for the Oxford Movement, he regards it as a changeling. His
grandfather, an archdeacon, was a Tractarian, a friend of Pusey, a
scholar acquainted with all the doctors; but he was not a ritualist; he
did not even adopt the eastward position. The modern ritualist is hardly
to be considered the lineal descendant of these great scholars.
"Romanticism, which dotes on ruins, shrinks from real restoration . . . a
Latin Church in England which disowns the Pope is an absurdity."

No, the future belongs to clear thinking and rigorous honesty of the
intellect.

Dr. Inge began life as the fag of Bishop Ryle at Eton--the one now
occupying the Deanery of St. Paul's; the other the Deanery of
Westminster, both scholars and the friendship still remaining. He was a
shy and timorous boy. No one anticipated the amazingly brilliant career
which followed at Cambridge, and even then few suspected him of original
genius until he became Lady Margaret Professor of Divinity in 1907. His
attempts to be a schoolmaster were unsuccessful. He was not good at
maintaining discipline, and deafness somewhat intensified a nervous
irritability which at times puts an enormous strain on his patience. Nor
did he make