y suggestion. For almost all
the spiritualism of our time, in so far as it is new, is solemn and sad.
Some Pagan gods were lawless, and some Christian saints were a little
too serious; but the spirits of modern spiritualism are both lawless and
serious--a disgusting combination. The specially contemporary spirits
are not only devils, they are blue devils. This is, first and last, the
real value of Christmas; in so far as the mythology remains at all it
is a kind of happy mythology. Personally, of course, I believe in Santa
Claus; but it is the season of forgiveness, and I will forgive others
for not doing so. But if there is anyone who does not comprehend the
defect in our world which I am civilising, I should recommend him, for
instance, to read a story by Mr. Henry James, called "The Turn of the
Screw." It is one of the most powerful things ever written, and it is
one of the things about which I doubt most whether it ought ever to
have been written at all. It describes two innocent children gradually
growing at once omniscient and half-witted under the influence of the
foul ghosts of a groom and a governess. As I say, I doubt whether Mr.
Henry James ought to have published it (no, it is not indecent, do not
buy it; it is a spiritual matter), but I think the question so doubtful
that I will give that truly great man a chance. I will approve the thing
as well as admire it if he will write another tale just as powerful
about two children and Santa Claus. If he will not, or cannot, then the
conclusion is clear; we can deal strongly with gloomy mystery, but not
with happy mystery; we are not rationalists, but diabolists.

.....

I have thought vaguely of all this staring at a great red fire that
stands up in the room like a great red angel. But, perhaps, you have
never heard of a red angel. But you have heard of a blue devil. That is
exactly what I mean.

XVIII. The Tower

I have been standing where everybody has stood, opposite the great
Belfry Tower of Bruges, and thinking, as every one has thought (though
not, perhaps, said), that it is built in defiance of all decencies of
architecture. It is made in deliberate disproportion to achieve the one
startling effect of height. It is a church on stilts. But this sort of
sublime deformity is characteristic of the whole fancy and energy
of these Flemish cities. Flanders has the flattest and most prosaic
landscapes, but the most violent and extravagant of buildings. He