y new thing, from Christianity downwards, has
been suspected, and slighted, by such minds. All that is greatest in
science, art, or song, has met with a chilling reception from them. When
this apprehensive timidity of theirs is joined to a cold or selfish
spirit, you can at best expect an Epicurean deportment from them.
Warming themselves in the sun of their own prosperity, they soothe their
consciences by saying how little can be done for the unfed, shivering,
multitude around them. Such men may think that it is practical wisdom to
make life as palatable as it can be, taking no responsibility that can be
avoided, and shutting out assiduously the consideration of other men's
troubles from their minds. Such, however, is not the wisdom inculcated
in that religion which, as Goethe well says, is grounded on "Reverence
for what is under us," and which teaches us "to recognize humility and
poverty, mockery and despite, disgrace and wretchedness, suffering and
death, as things divine."

There is a class of men utterly different from those above alluded to,
who, far from entertaining any Epicurean sentiments, are prone to view
with fear the good things of this world. And, indeed, seeing the
multiform suffering which is intertwined with every variety of human
life, a man in present ease and well-being may naturally feel as if he
had not his share of what is hard to be endured. The fanatic may seek a
refuge from prosperity, or strive to elevate his own nature, by
self-inflicted tortures; but one, who adds wisdom to sensibility, finds
in his own well-being an additional motive for benevolent exertions. It
is surely bad management when a man does not make a large part of his
self-sacrifices subservient to the welfare of his fellow-men. In active
life nothing avails more than self-denial; and there its trials are
varying and multifarious: but ascetics, by placing their favourite virtue
in retirement, made it dwindle down into one form only of self-restraint.

* * * * *

I suppose there are few readers of history who have not occasionally
turned from its pages with disgust, confusion, a craving for any grounds
of disbelief, and a melancholy darkness of soul. It can hardly be
otherwise, when you read, for instance, of the colossal brutalities of
the Roman Emperors, many of whom indulged in a sportive cruelty to their
fellow men, which reminds one of children with insects. When you find,
agai