THE
NEW
REPUBLIC
;
OR
,
CULTURE
,
FAITH
,
AND
PHILOSOPHY
IN
AN
ENGLISH
COUNTRY
HOUSE
.
Πάντα
γέλως
καὶ
πάντα
κόνις
καὶ
πάντα
τὸ
μηδέν·
πάντα
γὰρ
ἐξ
ἀλόγων
ἐστὶ
τὰ
γινόμενα
.
Greek
Anthology
IN
TWO
VOLUMES
.
-
VOL.
I
.
SECOND
EDITION
London
:
Chatto
and
Windus
,
Piccadilly
1877.
All
rights
reserved
.
[
The
NEW
REPUBLIC
was
originally
published
in
BELGRAVIA
,
but
in
an
incomplete
and
somewhat
fragmentary
condition
,
which
gave
it
the
appearance
rather
of
a
series
of
papers
than
of
a
single
connected
work
.
It
is
now
,
with
complete
revision
,
restored
to
its
original
form
,
which
differs
materially
from
that
which
it
had
for
a
time
to
assume
.
]
TO
‘VIOLET
FANE’
AUTHORESS
OF
‘ANTHONY
BABINGTON’
‘THE
QUEEN
OF
THE
FAIRIES’
ETC.
This
Book
is
Inscribed
BY
HER
SINCERE
FRIEND
THE
AUTHOR
BOOK
I
.
CHAPTER
I
.
TOWARDS
the
close
of
last
July
,
when
the
London
season
was
fast
dying
of
the
dust
,
Otho
Laurence
had
invited
what
the
Morning
Post
called
‘a
select
circle
of
friends
,
’
to
spend
a
quiet
Sunday
with
him
at
his
cool
villa
by
the
sea
.
This
singular
retreat
was
the
work
of
a
very
singular
man
,
Otho
Laurence’s
uncle
,
who
had
squandered
on
it
an
immense
fortune
,
and
had
designed
it
as
far
as
possible
to
embody
his
own
tastes
and
character
.
He
was
a
member
of
a
Tory
family
of
some
note
,
and
had
near
relations
in
both
Houses
of
Parliament
;
but
he
was
himself
possessed
of
a
deep
though
quiet
antipathy
to
the
two
things
generally
most
cherished
by
those
of
his
time
and
order
,
the
ideas
of
Christianity
and
Feudalism
;
and
he
studiously
kept
himself
clear
of
all
public
life
.
Pride
of
birth
,
indeed
,
he
had
in
no
small
measure
;
but
it
was
the
pride
of
a
Roman
of
the
Empire
rather
than
of
an
Englishman
;
a
pride
which
,
instead
of
connecting
him
with
prince
or
people
,
made
him
shun
the
one
as
a
Cæsar
,
and
forget
the
other
as
slaves
.
All
his
pleasures
were
those
of
a
lettered
voluptuary
,
who
would
,
as
he
himself
said
,
have
been
more
in
place
under
Augustus
or
the
Antonines
;
and
modern
existence
,
under
most
of
its
aspects
,
he
affected
to
regard
as
barbarous
.
Next
to
a
bishop
,
the
thing
he
most
disliked
was
a
courtier
;
next
to
a
courtier
,
a
fox-hunting
country
gentleman
.
But
nothing
in
his
life
,
perhaps
,
was
so
characteristic
of
him
as
his
leaving
of
it
.
During
his
last
hours
he
was
soothed
by
a
pretty
and
somewhat
educated
housemaid
,
whom
he
called
Phyllis
,
and
whom
he
made
sit
by
his
bedside
,
and
read
aloud
to
him
Gibbon’s
two
chapters
on
Christianity
.
Phyllis
had
just
come
to
the
celebrated
excerpt
from
Tertullian
,
in
which
that
father
contemplates
the
future
torments
of
the
unbelievers
,
when
the
parish
clergyman
,
who
had
been
sent
for
by
Mr.
Laurence’s
widowed
sister-in-law
,
arrived
to
offer
his
services
.
‘How
shall
I
admire’
—
these
were
the
words
that
,
read
in
a
low
sweet
tone
,
first
greeted
his
ears
when
he
was
shown
softly
into
the
sick
chamber
—
‘
how
shall
I
admire
,
how
laugh
,
how
rejoice
,
how
exult
,
when
I
behold
so
many
proud
monarchs
,
so
many
fancied
gods
,
groaning
in
the
lowest
abyss
of
darkness
;
so
many
magistrates
who
persecuted
the
name
of
the
Lord
,
liquefying
in
a
fiercer
fire
than
ever
they
kindled
against
the
Christians
!
’
The
clergyman
was
at
first
much
reassured
at
hearing
words
so
edifying
;
but
when
he
turned
to
old
Mr.
Laurence
,
he
was
dismayed
to
see
on
his
pale
face
,
no
signs
of
awe
,
but
only
a
faint
smile
,
full
of
sarcastic
humour
.
He
therefore
glanced
at
the
book
that
was
lying
on
the
girl’s
lap
,
and
discovered
to
his
horror
the
work
of
the
infidel
historian
.
He
was
at
first
struck
dumb
;
but
,
soon
recovering
himself
,
began
to
say
something
suitable
at
once
to
his
own
profession
and
to
the
sick
man’s
needs
.
Mr.
Laurence
answered
him
with
the
greatest
courtesy
,
but
with
many
thanks
declined
any
assistance
from
him
;
saying
wistfully
that
he
knew
he
had
not
long
to
live
,
and
that
his
one
wish
was
that
he
could
open
his
veins
in
a
bath
,
and
so
fade
gently
into
death
;
‘and
then
,
’
he
added
,
‘my
soul
,
if
I
have
one
,
might
perhaps
be
with
Petronius
,
and
with
Seneca
.
And
yet
sleep
would
,
I
think
,
be
better
than
even
their
company.’
The
poor
clergyman
bade
a
hasty
adieu
,
and
Phyllis
resumed
her
reading
.
Mr.
Laurence
listened
to
every
word
:
the
smile
returned
to
his
lips
that
had
for
a
moment
left
them
,
and
was
still
upon
them
when
,
half-an-hour
afterwards
,
he
died
,
so
quietly
that
Phyllis
did
not
perceive
it
,
but
continued
her
reading
for
some
time
to
ears
that
could
hear
nothing
.
All
his
property
he
left
to
his
nephew
Otho
,
including
his
splendid
villa
,
which
was
indeed
,
as
it
was
meant
to
be
,
a
type
of
its
builder
.
It
was
a
house
of
pillars
,
porticoes
,
and
statues
,
designed
ambitiously
in
what
was
meant
to
be
a
classical
style
;
and
though
its
splendours
might
not
be
all
perhaps
in
the
best
taste
,
nor
even
of
the
most
strictly
Roman
pattern
,
there
was
yet
an
air
about
its
meretricious
stateliness
by
which
the
clays
of
the
Empire
were
at
once
suggested
to
one
,
a
magnificence
that
:
would
at
any
rate
have
pleased
Trimalcio
,
though
it
might
have
scandalised
Horace
.
Otho
Laurence
inherited
with
his
uncle’s
house
something
of
the
tastes
and
feelings
of
which
it
was
the
embodiment
.
But
,
though
an
epicure
by
training
and
by
temper
,
he
had
been
open
to
other
influences
as
well
.
At
one
time
of
his
life
he
had
,
as
it
is
expressed
by
some
,
experienced
religion
;
and
not
religion
only
,
but
thought
and
speculation
also
.
Indeed
,
ever
since
he
was
twenty-four
,
he
had
been
troubled
by
a
painful
sense
that
he
ought
to
have
some
mission
in
life
.
The
only
difficulty
was
that
he
could
find
none
that
would
suit
him
.
He
had
considerable
natural
powers
,
and
was
in
many
ways
a
remarkable
man
;
but
,
unhappily
,
one
of
those
who
are
remarkable
because
they
do
not
become
famous
,
not
because
they
do
.
He
was
one
of
those
of
whom
it
is
said
till
they
are
thirty
,
that
they
will
do
something
;
till
they
are
thirty-five
,
that
they
might
do
something
if
they
chose
;
and
after
that
,
that
they
might
have
done
anything
if
they
had
chosen
.
Laurence
was
as
yet
only
three
years
gone
in
the
second
stage
,
but
such
of
his
friends
as
were
ambitious
for
him
feared
that
three
years
more
would
find
him
landed
in
the
third
.
He
,
too
,
was
beginning
to
share
this
fear
;
and
,
not
being
humble
enough
to
despair
of
himself
,
was
by
this
time
taking
to
despair
of
his
century
.
He
was
thus
hardly
a
happy
man
;
but
,
like
many
unhappy
men
,
he
was
capable
of
keen
enjoyments
.
Chief
amongst
these
was
society
in
certain
forms
,
especially
a
party
in
his
own
house
,
such
as
that
which
he
had
now
assembled
there
.
To
this
one
in
particular
he
looked
forward
with
more
than
usual
pleasure
,
partly
because
of
the
peculiar
elements
which
he
had
contrived
to
combine
in
it
,
but
chiefly
because
amongst
them
was
to
be
his
friend
Robert
Leslie
,
who
had
been
living
abroad
,
and
whom
he
had
not
seen
for
two
years
.
Laurence’s
aunt
,
Lady
Grace
,
helped
to
receive
the
guests
,
who
by
dinner-time
on
Saturday
evening
had
all
arrived
.
Robert
Leslie
was
the
last
.
The
dressing-bell
had
just
done
ringing
as
he
drove
up
to
the
door
,
and
the
others
had
already
gone
upstairs
;
but
he
found
Laurence
in
the
library
,
sitting
with
his
head
on
his
hand
,
and
a
pile
of
menu
-cards
on
the
desk
before
him
.
The
two
friends
met
with
much
warmth
,
and
then
examined
each
other’s
faces
to
see
if
either
had
changed
.
‘You
told
me
you
had
been
ill
,
’
said
Laurence
,
having
again
looked
at
Leslie
,
‘and
I
am
afraid
you
don’t
seem
quite
well
yet.’
‘You
forget
,
’
said
Leslie
,
whose
laugh
was
a
little
hollow
,
‘that
I
was
on
the
sea
six
hours
ago
;
and
,
as
you
know
,
I
am
a
wretched
sailor
.
But
the
worst
of
human
maladies
are
the
most
transient
also
—
love
,
that
is
half
despairing
,
and
sea-sickness
that
is
quite
so.’
‘I
congratulate
you
,
’
said
Laurence
,
again
examining
his
friend’s
face
,
‘on
your
true
cynical
manner
.
I
often
thought
we
might
have
masters
in
cynicism
just
as
we
have
masters
in
singing
.
Perhaps
I
shall
be
able
to
learn
the
art
from
you.’
‘Oh
!
’
said
Leslie
,
‘the
theory
is
simple
enough
.
Find
out
,
by
a
little
suffering
,
what
are
the
things
you
hold
most
sacred
,
and
most
firmly
believe
in
,
and
,
whenever
an
occasion
offers
,
deny
your
faith
.
A
cynic
is
a
kind
of
inverted
confessor
,
perpetually
making
enemies
for
the
sake
of
what
he
knows
to
be
false.’
‘Ah
!
’
said
Laurence
,
‘but
I
don’t
want
theory
.
I
know
what
is
sacred
just
as
well
as
you
,
and
,
when
I
am
beast
enough
to
be
quite
out
of
tune
with
it
,
I
have
the
good
sense
to
call
it
a
phantom
.
But
I
don’t
do
this
with
sufficient
energy
.
It
is
skill
in
cynical
practice
I
want
—
a
lesson
in
the
pungent
manner
—
the
bitter
tone
—
’
‘Then
please
not
to
take
your
lessons
from
me
,
’
said
Leslie
.
‘Imitation
may
be
the
sincerest
flattery
,
but
it
is
,
of
all
,
the
most
irritating
:
and
a
cynic
,
as
you
are
good
enough
to
call
me
,
feels
this
especially
.
For
a
cynic
is
the
one
preacher
,
remember
,
that
never
wants
to
make
converts
.
His
aim
is
to
outrage
,
not
to
convince
:
to
create
enemies
,
not
to
conquer
them
.
The
peculiar
charm
that
his
creed
has
for
him
,
is
his
own
peculiarity
in
holding
it
.
He
is
an
acid
that
can
only
fizz
with
an
alkali
,
and
he
therefore
hates
in
others
what
he
most
admires
in
himself
.
So
if
you
hear
me
say
a
bitter
thing
,
please
be
good
enough
to
brim
over
immediately
with
the
milk
of
human
kindness
.
If
I
say
anything
disrespectful
about
friendship
,
please
be
good
enough
to
look
hurt
;
and
if
I
happen
to
say
—
what
is
the
chief
part
of
the
cynic’s
stock-in-trade
—
that
no
woman
was
ever
sincere
or
faithful
,
I
trust
you
have
some
lady
amongst
your
visitors
who
will
look
at
me
with
mournful
eyes
,
and
say
to
me
,
“
Ah
,
if
you
did
but
know
!
”
’
‘Well
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘perhaps
I
have
;
but
,
talking
of
what
people
are
to
say
,
I
have
something
here
about
which
I
want
you
to
help
me
.
You
see
these
cards
;
they
are
all
double
.
Now
that
second
half
is
for
something
quite
new
,
and
of
my
own
invention
.
The
cook
has
written
his
part
already
,
so
you
need
not
look
so
alarmed
;
but
he
has
only
provided
for
the
tongue
as
a
tasting
instrument
;
I
am
going
to
provide
for
it
as
a
talking
one
.
In
fact
,
I
am
going
to
have
a
menu
for
the
conversation
,
and
to
this
I
shall
make
everyone
strictly
adhere
.
For
it
has
always
seemed
absurd
to
me
to
be
so
careful
about
what
we
put
into
our
mouths
,
and
to
leave
chance
to
arrange
what
comes
out
of
them
;
to
be
so
particular
as
to
the
order
of
what
we
eat
,
and
to
have
no
order
at
all
in
what
we
talk
about
.
This
is
the
case
especially
in
parties
like
the
present
,
where
most
of
the
people
know
each
other
only
a
little
,
and
if
left
to
themselves
would
never
touch
on
the
topics
that
would
make
them
best
acquainted
,
and
best
bring
out
their
several
personal
flavours
.
That
is
what
I
like
to
see
conversation
doing
.
I
ought
to
have
written
these
menus
before
;
but
I
have
been
busy
all
day
,
and
,
besides
,
I
wanted
you
to
help
me
.
I
was
just
beginning
without
you
when
you
arrived
,
as
I
could
wait
no
longer
;
but
I
have
put
down
nothing
yet
:
indeed
I
could
not
fix
upon
the
first
topic
that
is
to
correspond
with
the
soup
—
the
first
vernal
breath
of
discussion
that
is
to
open
the
buds
of
the
shy
and
strange
souls
.
So
come
,
now
—
what
shall
we
begin
with
?
What
we
want
is
something
that
anyone
can
talk
easily
about
,
whether
he
knows
anything
of
it
or
not
—
something
,
too
,
that
may
be
treated
in
any
way
,
either
with
laughter
,
feeling
,
or
even
a
little
touch
of
temper.’
‘Love
,
’
suggested
Leslie
.
‘That
is
too
strong
to
begin
with
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘and
too
real
.
Besides
,
introduced
in
that
way
,
it
would
be
,
I
think
,
rather
common
and
vulgar
.
No
—
the
only
thing
that
suggested
itself
to
me
was
religion.’
‘Nothing
could
be
better
in
some
ways
,
’
said
Leslie
;
‘but
might
not
that
,
too
,
be
rather
strong
meat
for
some
?
I
apprehend
,
like
Bottom
,
that
“
the
ladies
might
be
afeared
of
the
lion
.
”
I
should
suggest
rather
the
question
,
“
Are
you
High-church
or
Low-church
?
”
There
is
something
in
that
which
at
once
disarms
reverence
,
and
may
also
just
titillate
the
interests
,
the
temper
,
or
the
sense
of
humour
.
Quick
,
’
he
said
,
taking
one
of
the
cards
,
‘and
let
us
begin
to
write.’
‘Stop
,
’
said
Laurence
;
‘not
so
fast
,
let
me
beg
of
you
.
Instead
of
religion
,
or
anything
connected
with
it
,
we
will
have
,
“
What
is
the
Aim
of
Life
?
”
Is
not
this
the
thing
of
things
to
suit
us
?
About
what
do
we
know
less
or
talk
more
?
There
is
a
Sphinx
in
each
of
our
souls
that
is
always
asking
us
this
riddle
;
and
when
we
are
lazy
or
disappointed
,
we
all
of
us
lounge
up
to
her
,
and
make
languid
guesses
.
So
about
this
we
shall
all
of
us
have
plenty
to
say
,
and
can
say
it
in
any
way
we
like
,
flippant
,
serious
,
or
sentimental
.
Think
,
too
,
how
many
avenues
of
thought
and
feeling
it
opens
up
!
Evidently
the
“
Aim
of
Life
”
is
the
thing
to
begin
with.’
Leslie
assented
;
and
before
many
minutes
they
had
made
the
menu
complete
.
The
‘Aim
of
Life’
was
to
be
followed
by
‘Town
and
Country
,
’
which
was
designed
to
introduce
a
discussion
as
to
where
the
Aim
of
Life
was
to
be
best
attained
.
After
this
,
by
an
easy
transition
,
came
‘Society
;
’
next
by
way
of
entreés
,
‘Art
and
Literature
,
’
‘Love
and
Money
,
’
‘Riches
and
Civilisation
;
’
then
‘The
Present
,
’
as
something
solid
and
satisfying
;
and
lastly
,
a
light
superfluity
to
dally
with
,
brightly
coloured
and
unsubstantial
,
with
the
entremets
came
‘The
Future.’
‘And
who
is
here
,
’
said
Leslie
,
as
they
were
ending
their
labours
,
‘to
enjoy
this
feast
of
reason
?
’
‘I
will
tell
you
,
’
said
Laurence
.
‘In
the
first
place
,
there
is
Lady
Ambrose
,
a
woman
of
a
very
old
but
poor
family
,
who
has
married
a
modern
M.P.
with
more
than
a
million
of
money
.
She
is
very
particular
about
knowing
the
right
people
,
and
has
lovely
,
large
grey
eyes
.
Then
there
is
Miss
Merton
,
a
Roman
Catholic
young
lady
,
the
daughter
of
old
Sir
Ascot
Merton
,
the
horse-racing
evangelical
.
I
knew
her
well
five
years
ago
,
but
had
not
seen
her
since
her
conversion
,
till
to-day
.
Then
we
have
Dr.
Jenkinson
,
the
great
Broad-church
divine
who
thinks
that
Christianity
is
not
dead
,
but
changed
by
himself
and
his
followers
in
the
twinkling
of
an
eye.’
‘I
met
Dr.
Jenkinson
,
’
said
Leslie
,
‘just
before
I
went
abroad
,
at
a
great
dinner
given
by
Baron
Isaacs
,
in
honour
of
his
horse
having
won
the
Derby
.
Well
—
and
who
else
is
there
?
’
‘Two
celebrated
members
of
the
Royal
Society
,
’
said
Laurence
;
‘no
less
persons
than
—
But
,
good
gracious
!
it
is
time
we
were
up-stairs
dressing
.
Come
along
directly
,
and
I
will
explain
the
other
people
to
you
before
dinner.’
BOOK
I
.
CHAPTER
II
.
IT
was
half-past
eight
,
and
the
party
were
fast
assembling
in
the
twilight
drawing-room
.
Leslie
was
lounging
in
one
of
the
windows
,
by
a
large
stand
of
flowers
and
broad-leaved
plants
,
and
was
studying
the
company
with
considerable
interest
.
His
first
impression
was
of
little
more
than
of
a
number
of
men’s
dark
coats
and
white
shirt-fronts
,
tables
,
couches
,
and
gilded
chairs
,
and
the
pleasant
many-coloured
glimmerings
of
female
apparel
.
But
before
long
he
had
observed
more
minutely
.
There
were
men
who
he
instinctively
felt
were
celebrities
,
discoursing
to
groups
of
ladies
;
there
were
ladies
who
he
at
once
saw
were
attractive
,
being
discoursed
to
by
groups
of
men
.
He
very
soon
detected
Lady
Ambrose
,
a
fine
handsome
woman
of
perhaps
thirty
,
with
the
large
grey
eyes
of
which
Laurence
had
spoken
,
and
a
very
clear
complexion
.
Leslie
was
much
prepossessed
by
her
frank
manner
,
and
by
her
charming
voice
,
as
she
was
talking
with
some
animation
to
a
tall
distinguished-looking
young
man
,
whose
fine
features
,
keen
earnest
glance
,
and
thoughtful
expression
prepossessed
him
still
more
.
Forming
a
third
in
this
group
,
dropping
in
a
word
or
two
at
intervals
,
he
recognised
the
celebrated
Dr.
Jenkinson
—
still
full
of
vigour
,
though
his
hair
was
silver
—
the
sharp
and
restless
sparkle
of
whose
eyes
,
strangely
joined
with
the
most
benevolent
of
smiles
,
Leslie
remembered
to
have
noticed
at
Baron
Isaacs’
festival
.
He
had
just
identified
Lady
Ambrose
and
the
Doctor
,
when
Laurence
came
up
to
him
in
the
window
,
and
began
to
tell
him
who
was
who
.
‘Dr
.
Jenkinson
is
the
only
one
I
know
,
’
said
Leslie
,
‘and
,
naturally
enough
,
he
forgets
me.’
‘Well
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘that
man
by
himself
,
turning
over
the
books
on
the
table
—
the
man
with
the
black
whiskers
,
spectacles
,
and
bushy
eyebrows
—
is
Mr.
Storks
of
the
Royal
Society
,
who
is
great
on
the
physical
basis
of
life
and
the
imaginative
basis
of
God
.
The
man
with
long
locks
in
the
window
,
explaining
a
microscope
in
so
eager
a
way
to
that
dark-haired
girl
,
is
Professor
Stockton
—
of
the
Royal
Society
also
;
and
member
and
president
of
many
Societies
more
.
The
girl
—
child
,
rather
,
I
ought
to
call
her
—
that
he
is
talking
to
,
is
Lady
Violet
Gresham
—
my
second
cousin
.
You
see
my
aunt
,
the
old
lady
with
grey
curls
,
on
the
ottoman
near
the
fire-place
?
Well
—
the
supercilious-looking
man
,
talking
rather
loudly
and
rather
slowly
to
her
about
the
dust
in
London
,
is
Mr.
Luke
,
the
great
critic
and
apostle
of
culture
.
That
,
too
,
is
another
critic
close
by
him
—
the
pale
creature
,
with
large
moustache
,
looking
out
of
the
window
at
the
sunset
.
He
is
Mr.
Rose
,
the
pre-Raphaelite
.
He
always
speaks
in
an
undertone
,
and
his
two
topics
are
self-indulgence
and
art
.
The
young
man
there
with
Lady
Ambrose
and
Dr.
Jenkinson
,
is
Lord
Allen
.
He
is
only
two-
or
three-and-twenty
;
still
,
had
you
been
in
England
lately
,
you
would
often
have
heard
his
name
.
He
has
come
early
into
an
immense
property
,
and
he
yet
is
conscious
that
he
has
duties
in
life
.
But
,
’
said
Laurence
,
sighing
,
‘he
too
feels
,
as
I
do
,
that
he
has
fallen
on
evil
days
,
in
which
there
can
be
no
peace
for
us
—
little
but
doubt
and
confusion
,
and
what
seems
to
me
a
losing
battle
against
the
spiritual
darkness
of
this
world
.
However
—
that
redheaded
youth
thinks
very
differently
.
He
is
Mr.
Saunders
from
Oxford
,
supposed
to
be
very
clever
and
advanced
.
Next
him
is
Donald
Gordon
,
who
has
deserted
deer-stalking
and
the
Kirk
,
for
literature
and
German
metaphysics.’
‘And
who
is
that
,
’
said
Leslie
,
’
the
young
lady
with
those
large
and
rather
sad-looking
eyes
,
and
the
delicate
,
proud
mouth
?
’
‘Which
?
’
said
Laurence
.
‘The
one
on
the
sofa
,
’
said
Leslie
,
‘who
looks
so
like
a
Reynolds
portrait
—
like
a
duchess
of
the
last
century
—
the
lady
in
the
pale
blue
dress
,
talking
to
that
man
with
such
a
curiously
attractive
smile
and
the
worn
melancholy
look
?
’
‘That
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘is
Miss
Merton
.
I
am
glad
you
admire
her
.
And
don’t
you
know
who
it
is
she
is
talking
to
?
He
is
almost
the
only
man
of
these
days
for
whom
I
feel
a
real
reverence
—
almost
the
only
one
of
our
teachers
who
seems
to
me
to
speak
with
the
least
breath
of
inspiration
.
But
he
is
too
impressionable
,
perhaps
—
too
much
like
me
,
in
that
way
.
And
now
,
as
the
years
come
,
it
seems
that
hope
is
more
and
more
leaving
him
,
and
things
look
darker
to
him
than
ever
.
That
is
Herbert.’
‘Herbert
!
’
exclaimed
Leslie
,
‘so
it
is
.
I
thought
I
recollected
the
face
.
I
have
heard
him
lecture
several
times
at
the
Royal
Institution
;
and
that
singular
voice
of
his
,
which
would
often
hold
all
the
theatre
breathless
,
haunts
me
still
,
sometimes
.
There
was
something
strange
and
aërial
in
its
exquisite
modulations
,
that
seemed
as
if
it
came
from
a
disconsolate
spirit
,
hovering
over
the
waters
of
Babylon
,
and
remembering
Sion
.
I
can’t
tell
exactly
why
it
was
that
—
but
,
ah
!
—
my
dear
Laurence
—
who
is
this
,
that
is
coming
into
the
room
now
—
this
lovely
creature
,
with
a
dress
like
a
red
azalea
?
What
speaking
eyes
!
And
what
hair
,
too
—
deep
dead
black
,
with
those
white
starry
blossoms
in
it
.
I
don’t
think
I
ever
saw
anyone
move
so
gracefully
;
and
how
proudly
and
piquantly
she
poises
On
her
neck
the
small
head
buoyant
,
like
a
bell-flower
on
its
bed
!
’
‘That
,
’
said
Laurence
,
when
Leslie
had
done
,
‘is
Mrs.
Sinclair
,
who
has
published
a
volume
of
poems
,
and
is
a
sort
of
fashionable
London
Sappho
.
But
come
,
—
we
shall
be
going
into
dinner
directly
.
You
shall
have
Lady
Ambrose
on
one
side
of
you
,
and
shall
take
in
Miss
Merton.’
BOOK
I
.
CHAPTER
III
.
LAURENCE
,
though
he
had
forewarned
his
guests
of
his
menu
before
they
left
the
drawing-room
,
yet
felt
a
little
anxious
when
they
sat
down
to
dinner
;
for
he
found
it
not
altogether
easy
to
get
the
conversation
started
.
Lady
Ambrose
,
who
was
the
first
to
speak
,
began
somewhat
off
the
point
.
‘What
a
charming
change
it
is
,
Mr.
Laurence
,
’
she
said
,
‘to
look
out
on
the
sea
when
one
is
dressing
,
instead
of
across
South
Audley
Street
!
’
‘Hush
!
’
said
Laurence
softly
,
with
a
grave
,
reproving
smile
.
‘Really
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
‘I
beg
your
pardon
.
I
thought
Dr.
Jenkinson
had
said
grace.’
‘If
he
has
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘it
is
very
good
of
him
,
for
I
am
afraid
he
was
not
asked
.
But
what
I
mean
is
,
that
you
must
only
talk
of
what
is
on
the
cards
;
so
be
good
enough
to
look
at
your
menu
,
and
devote
your
attention
to
the
Aim
of
Life.’
‘Really
,
this
is
much
too
alarming
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
.
‘How
is
one
to
talk
at
so
short
a
notice
on
a
subject
one
has
never
thought
about
before
?
’
‘Why
,
to
do
so
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘is
the
very
art
of
conversation
;
for
in
that
way
,
one’s
ideas
spring
up
fresh
like
young
roses
that
have
all
the
dew
on
them
,
instead
of
having
been
kept
drying
for
half
a
lifetime
between
the
leaves
of
a
book
.
So
do
set
a
good
example
,
and
begin
,
or
else
we
shall
never
be
started
at
all
;
and
my
pet
plan
will
turn
out
a
fiasco.’
There
was
,
indeed
,
as
Laurence
said
this
,
something
very
near
complete
silence
all
round
the
table
.
It
was
soon
broken
.
‘Are
you
High-church
or
Low-church
?
’
was
a
question
suddenly
uttered
in
a
quick
eager
girl’s
voice
by
Miss
Prattle
,
a
young
lady
of
eighteen
,
to
the
astonishment
of
the
whole
company
.
It
was
addressed
to
Dr.
Jenkinson
who
was
sitting
next
her
.
Had
a
pin
been
run
into
the
Doctor’s
leg
,
he
could
not
have
looked
more
astounded
,
or
given
a
greater
start
.
He
eyed
his
fair
questioner
for
some
time
in
complete
silence
.
‘Can
you
tell
me
the
difference
?
’
he
said
at
last
,
in
a
voice
of
considerable
good
humour
,
yet
with
just
a
touch
of
sharpness
in
it
.
‘I
think
,
’
said
Miss
Merton
,
who
was
sitting
on
the
other
side
of
him
,
‘that
my
card
is
a
little
different
.
I
have
the
“
Aim
of
Life
”
on
mine
,
and
so
I
believe
has
everybody
else.’
‘Well
,
’
said
the
Doctor
,
laughing
,
‘let
us
ask
Miss
Prattle
what
is
her
aim
in
life.’
‘Thank
Heaven
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘Dr
.
Jenkinson
has
begun
.
I
hope
we
shall
all
now
follow.’
Laurence’s
hope
was
not
in
vain
.
The
conversation
soon
sprang
up
everywhere
;
and
the
company
,
though
in
various
humours
,
took
most
of
them
very
kindly
to
the
solemn
topic
that
had
been
put
before
them
.
Mr.
Luke
,
who
was
sitting
by
Mrs.
Sinclair
,
was
heard
in
a
loudish
voice
saying
that
his
own
favourite
Muse
had
always
been
Erato
;
Mr.
Rose
had
taken
a
crimson
flower
from
a
vase
on
the
table
,
and
,
looking
at
it
himself
with
a
grave
regard
,
was
pointing
out
its
infinite
and
passionate
beauties
to
the
lady
next
him
;
and
Mr.
Stockton
was
explaining
that
the
Alps
looked
grander
,
and
the
sky
bluer
than
ever
,
to
those
who
truly
realised
the
atomic
theory
.
No
one
,
indeed
,
was
silent
except
Mr.
Herbert
and
Mr.
Storks
,
the
former
of
whom
smiled
rather
sadly
,
whilst
the
latter
looked
about
him
with
an
inquisitorial
frown
.
Laurence
was
delighted
with
the
state
of
things
,
and
surveyed
the
table
with
great
satisfaction
.
Whilst
his
attention
was
thus
engaged
,
Lady
Ambrose
turned
to
Leslie
,
and
began
asking
him
if
he
had
been
in
town
much
this
season
.
She
was
taken
with
his
look
,
and
wished
to
find
out
if
he
would
really
be
a
nice
person
to
like
.
‘Please
,
’
interposed
Laurence
pleadingly
,
‘do
try
and
keep
to
the
point
—
please
,
Lady
Ambrose.’
‘I
want
to
find
out
Mr.
Leslie’s
aim
in
life
by
asking
him
where
he
has
been
,
’
she
answered
.
‘I
have
been
in
a
great
many
places
,
’
said
Leslie
,
‘but
not
to
pursue
any
end
—
only
to
try
and
forget
that
I
had
no
end
to
pursue.’
‘This
is
a
very
sad
state
of
things
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
;
‘I
can
always
find
something
to
do
,
except
when
I
am
quite
alone
,
or
in
the
country
when
the
house
is
empty
.
And
even
then
I
can
make
occupation
.
I
draw
,
or
read
a
book
,
or
teach
my
little
boy
some
lessons
.
But
come
—
what
do
you
think
is
the
real
aim
of
life
?
—
since
that
is
what
I
must
ask
him
,
is
it
not
,
Mr.
Laurence
?
’
‘Don’t
ask
me
,
’
said
Leslie
;
‘I
told
you
I
hadn’t
a
notion
;
and
I
don’t
suppose
we
any
of
us
have.’
‘That
can’t
be
true
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
‘for
just
listen
how
everyone
is
talking
.
I
wish
we
could
hear
what
they
are
saying
.
You
might
learn
something
then
,
perhaps
,
Mr.
Leslie
,
since
you
are
so
very
ignorant.’
It
happened
that
,
as
Lady
Ambrose
said
this
,
the
conversation
suddenly
flagged
,
and
Laurence
took
advantage
of
the
lull
to
ask
if
any
satisfactory
conclusions
had
been
come
to
during
the
past
five
minutes
,
‘because
we
up
here
,
’
he
said
,
‘are
very
much
in
the
dark
,
and
want
to
be
enlightened.’
‘Yes
,
’
said
Mr.
Storks
gruffly
,
‘has
any
one
found
out
what
is
the
aim
of
life
?
’
As
he
said
this
he
looked
about
him
defiantly
,
as
though
all
the
others
were
butterflies
,
that
he
could
break
,
if
he
chose
,
upon
his
wheel
.
His
eye
at
last
lit
upon
Mr.
Saunders
,
who
,
considering
this
a
challenge
to
himself
,
immediately
took
up
the
gauntlet
.
The
young
man
spoke
with
the
utmost
composure
,
and
,
as
his
voice
was
high
and
piercing
,
everybody
could
hear
him
.
‘The
aim
of
life
,
’
he
said
,
adjusting
his
spectacles
,
‘is
progress.’
‘What
is
progress
?
’
interrupted
Dr.
Jenkinson
coldly
,
without
looking
at
Mr.
Saunders
,
and
as
though
any
answer
to
his
question
was
the
last
thing
he
expected
.
‘Progress
,
’
replied
Mr.
Saunders
slowly
,
‘has
been
found
,
like
poetry
,
somewhat
hard
to
define.’
‘Very
true
,
’
said
the
Doctor
drily
,
and
looking
straight
before
him
.
His
accents
were
of
so
freezing
a
sharpness
that
he
seemed
to
be
stabbing
Mr.
Saunders
with
an
icicle
.
Mr.
Saunders
,
however
,
was
apparently
quite
unwounded
.
‘But
I
,
’
he
continued
with
the
utmost
complacency
,
‘have
discovered
a
definition
which
will
,
I
think
,
meet
with
general
acceptance
.
There
is
nothing
original
in
it
—
it
is
merely
an
abstract
of
the
meaning
of
all
our
great
liberal
thinkers
—
progress
is
such
improvement
as
can
be
verified
by
statistics
,
just
as
education
is
such
knowledge
as
can
be
tested
by
examinations
.
That
,
I
conceive
,
is
a
very
adequate
definition
of
the
most
advanced
conception
of
progress
,
and
to
persuade
people
in
general
to
accept
this
is
at
present
one
of
the
chief
duties
of
all
earnest
men.’
‘Entirely
true
!
’
said
Mr.
Herbert
,
with
ironical
emphasis
;
‘an
entirely
true
definition
of
progress
as
our
age
prizes
it.’
Mr.
Saunders
was
delighted
,
and
,
imagining
he
had
made
a
disciple
,
he
turned
to
Mr.
Herbert
and
went
on
.
‘For
just
let
us
,
’
he
said
,
‘compare
a
man
with
a
gorilla
,
and
see
in
what
the
man’s
superiority
lies
.
It
is
evidently
not
in
the
man’s
ideas
of
God
,
and
so
forth
—
for
in
his
presumable
freedom
from
these
the
gorilla
is
the
superior
of
the
man
—
but
in
the
hard
and
verifiable
fact
,
that
the
man
can
build
houses
and
cotton-mills
,
whereas
the
highest
monkey
can
scarcely
make
the
rudest
approach
to
a
hut.’
‘But
can
you
tell
me
,
’
said
Mr.
Herbert
,
‘supposing
men
some
day
come
to
a
state
in
which
no
more
of
this
progress
is
possible
,
what
will
they
do
then
?
’
‘Mr
.
Mill
,
whom
in
almost
all
things
I
reverence
as
a
supreme
authority
,
’
said
Mr.
Saunders
,
‘asked
himself
that
very
question
.
But
the
answer
he
gave
himself
was
one
of
the
few
things
in
which
I
venture
to
dissent
from
him
.
For
,
when
all
the
greater
evils
of
life
shall
have
been
removed
,
he
thinks
the
human
race
is
to
find
its
chief
enjoyment
in
reading
Wordsworth’s
poetry.’
‘Indeed
!
’
said
Mr.
Herbert
;
‘and
did
Mill
come
to
any
conclusion
so
sane
as
that
?
’
‘I
,
on
the
contrary
,
believe
,
’
Mr.
Saunders
went
on
,
‘that
as
long
as
the
human
race
lasts
,
it
will
still
have
some
belief
in
God
left
in
it
,
and
that
the
eradication
of
this
will
afford
an
unending
employment
to
all
enlightened
minds.’
Leslie
looked
at
Lady
Ambrose
,
expecting
to
see
her
smile
.
On
the
contrary
she
was
very
grave
,
and
said
,
‘I
think
this
is
shocking.’
‘Well
,
’
said
Laurence
in
a
soothing
tone
to
her
,
‘it
is
only
the
way
of
these
young
men
in
times
of
change
like
ours
.
Besides
,
he
is
very
young
—
he
has
only
just
left
Oxford
—
’
‘If
these
irreligious
views
are
to
be
picked
up
at
Oxford
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
‘I
shall
be
obliged
to
send
my
little
boy
,
when
he
grows
up
,
to
Cambridge
.
And
as
for
what
you
say
about
“
times
of
change
”
—
I
am
not
a
conservative
,
as
you
know
—
indeed
,
I
quite
go
in
for
reform
,
as
my
husband
does
:
but
I
don’t
think
religion
ought
to
be
dragged
into
the
matter.’
‘Well
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘let
us
listen
to
what
Lord
Allen
is
saying.’
‘
He
is
sure
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
‘not
to
say
anything
but
what
is
nice.’
Allen
was
speaking
in
a
low
tone
,
but
his
voice
was
so
clear
that
Lady
Ambrose
was
quite
able
to
hear
him
.
‘To
me
it
seems
,
’
he
was
saying
,
blushing
a
little
as
he
found
suddenly
how
many
people
were
listening
to
him
,
‘that
the
aim
of
life
has
nearly
always
been
plain
enough
in
a
certain
way
—
always
,
and
for
all
men
—
’
‘Indeed
?
’
said
Mr.
Saunders
,
raising
his
eyebrows
.
‘Yes
,
’
said
Allen
,
slightly
turning
towards
him
,
and
raising
his
voice
somewhat
.
‘It
has
been
,
I
think
,
as
a
single
magnet
,
acting
on
all
,
though
upon
many
by
repulsion
.
It
is
quite
indescribable
in
words
.
But
there
are
two
things
by
which
you
can
tell
a
man’s
truth
to
it
—
a
faith
in
God
.
and
a
longing
for
a
future
life.’
‘Lord
Allen
,
’
exclaimed
Mr.
Herbert
,
and
the
sound
of
his
voice
made
everyone
at
once
a
listener
,
‘that
is
very
beautifully
put
!
And
it
is
,
indeed
,
quite
true
,
as
you
say
,
that
the
real
significance
of
life
must
be
for
ever
indescribable
in
words
.
But
,
in
the
present
day
,
I
fear
also
that
for
most
of
us
it
is
not
even
thinkable
in
thought
.
The
whole
human
race
,
’
he
went
on
in
measured
melancholy
accents
,
‘is
now
wandering
in
an
accursed
wilderness
,
which
not
only
shows
us
no
hilltop
whence
the
promised
land
may
be
seen
,
but
which
,
to
most
of
the
wanderers
,
seems
a
promised
land
itself
.
And
they
have
a
God
of
their
own
too
,
who
engages
now
to
lead
them
out
of
it
if
they
will
only
follow
him
:
who
,
for
visible
token
of
his
Godhead
,
leads
them
with
a
pillar
of
cloud
by
day
,
and
a
pillar
of
fire
by
night
—
the
cloud
being
the
black
smoke
of
their
factory
chimneys
,
and
the
fire
the
red
glare
of
their
blast-furnaces
.
And
so
effectual
are
these
modern
divine
guides
,
that
if
we
were
standing
on
the
brink
of
Jordan
itself
,
we
should
be
utterly
unable
to
catch
,
through
the
fire
and
the
smoke
,
one
single
glimpse
of
the
sunlit
hills
beyond.’
Mr.
Herbert
said
these
last
words
almost
fiercely
;
and
they
were
followed
by
a
complete
hush
.
It
was
almost
directly
broken
by
Mr.
Rose
.
‘To
me
,
’
he
said
,
raising
his
eyebrows
wearily
,
and
sending
his
words
floating
down
the
table
in
a
languid
monotone
,
‘Mr
.
Herbert’s
whole
metaphor
seems
misleading
.
I
rather
look
upon
life
as
a
chamber
,
which
we
decorate
as
we
would
decorate
the
chamber
of
the
woman
or
the
youth
that
we
love
,
tinting
the
walls
of
it
with
symphonies
of
subdued
colour
,
and
filling
it
with
works
of
fair
form
,
and
with
flowers
,
and
with
strange
scents
,
and
with
instruments
of
music
.
And
this
can
be
done
now
as
well
—
better
,
rather
—
than
at
any
former
time
:
since
we
know
that
so
many
of
the
old
aims
were
false
,
and
so
cease
to
be
distracted
by
them
.
We
have
learned
the
weariness
of
creeds
;
and
know
that
for
us
the
grave
has
no
secrets
.
We
have
learned
that
the
aim
of
life
is
life
;
and
what
does
successful
life
consist
in
?
Simply
,
’
said
Mr.
Rose
,
speaking
very
slowly
,
and
with
a
soft
solemnity
,
‘in
the
consciousness
of
exquisite
living
—
in
the
making
our
own
each
highest
thrill
of
joy
that
the
moment
offers
us
—
be
it
some
touch
of
colour
on
the
sea
or
on
the
mountains
,
the
early
dew
in
the
crimson
shadows
of
a
rose
,
the
shining
of
a
woman’s
limbs
in
clear
water
,
or
—
’
Here
unfortunately
a
sound
of
‘’Sh’
broke
softly
from
several
mouths
.
Mr.
Rose
was
slightly
disconcerted
,
and
a
pause
that
would
have
been
a
little
awkward
seemed
imminent
.
Laurence
,
to
prevent
this
,
did
the
first
thing
that
occurred
to
him
,
and
hastily
asked
Dr.
Jenkinson
what
his
view
of
the
matter
was
.
The
Doctor’s
answer
came
in
his
very
sharpest
voice
.
‘Do
any
of
us
know
what
life
is
?
’
he
said
.
‘Hadn’t
we
better
find
that
out
first
?
’
‘Life
,
’
continued
Mr.
Rose
,
who
had
now
recovered
himself
,
‘is
a
series
of
moments
and
emotions.’
‘And
a
series
of
absurdities
too
,
very
often
,
’
said
Dr.
Jenkinson
.
‘Life
is
a
solemn
mystery
,
’
said
Mr.
Storks
,
severely
.
‘Life
is
a
damned
nuisance
,
’
muttered
Leslie
to
himself
,
but
just
loud
enough
to
be
heard
by
Lady
Ambrose
,
who
smiled
at
him
with
a
sense
of
humour
that
won
his
heart
at
once
.
‘Life
is
matter
,
’
Mr.
Storks
went
on
,
‘which
,
under
certain
conditions
not
yet
fully
understood
,
has
become
self-conscious.’
‘Lord
Allen
has
just
been
saying
that
it
is
the
preface
to
eternity
,
’
said
Mr.
Saunders
.
‘Only
,
unfortunately
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘it
is
a
preface
that
we
cannot
skip
,
and
the
dedication
is
generally
made
to
the
wrong
person.’
‘All
our
doubts
on
this
matter
,
’
said
Mr.
Saunders
,
‘are
simply
due
to
that
dense
pestiferous
fog
of
crazed
sentiment
that
still
hides
our
view
,
but
which
the
present
generation
has
sternly
set
its
face
to
dispel
and
conquer
.
Science
will
drain
the
marshy
grounds
of
the
human
mind
,
so
that
the
deadly
malaria
of
Christianity
,
which
has
already
destroyed
two
civilisations
,
shall
never
be
fatal
to
a
third.’
‘I
should
rather
have
thought
,
’
said
Mrs.
Sinclair
,
in
her
soft
clear
voice
,
and
casting
down
her
eyes
thoughtfully
,
‘that
passion
and
feeling
were
the
real
heart
of
the
matter
:
and
that
religion
of
some
sort
was
an
ingredient
in
all
perfect
passion
.
There
are
seeds
of
feeling
in
every
soul
,
but
these
will
never
rise
up
into
flowers
without
some
culture
—
will
they
,
Mr.
Luke
?
And
this
culture
is
,
surely
,
’
she
said
dreamily
,
‘the
work
of
Love
who
is
the
gardener
of
the
soul
,
and
of
Religion
,
the
under-gardener
,
acting
as
Love
bids
it.’
‘Ah
,
yes
!
’
said
Mr.
Luke
,
looking
compassionately
about
him
.
‘Culture
!
Mrs.
Sinclair
is
quite
right
;
for
without
culture
we
can
never
understand
Christianity
,
and
Christianity
,
whatever
the
vulgar
may
say
of
it
,
is
the
key
to
life
,
and
is
co-extensive
with
it.’
Lady
Ambrose
was
charmed
with
this
sentiment
.
‘Quite
so
,
Mr.
Luke
,
I
quite
agree
with
you
,
’
she
said
,
in
her
most
cordial
manner
.
‘But
I
wish
you
would
tell
me
a
little
more
about
Culture
.
I
am
always
so
much
interested
in
those
things.’
‘Culture
,
’
said
Mr.
Luke
,
‘is
the
union
of
two
things
—
fastidious
taste
and
liberal
sympathy
.
These
can
only
be
gained
by
wide
reading
guided
by
sweet
reason
;
and
when
they
are
gained
,
Lady
Ambrose
,
we
are
conscious
,
as
it
were
,
of
a
new
sense
,
which
at
once
enables
us
to
discern
the
Eternal
and
the
absolutely
righteous
,
wherever
we
find
it
,
whether
in
an
epistle
of
St.
Paul’s
or
in
a
comedy
of
Menander’s
.
It
is
true
that
culture
sets
aside
the
larger
part
of
the
New
Testament
as
grotesque
,
barbarous
,
and
immoral
;
but
what
remains
,
purged
of
its
apparent
meaning
,
it
discerns
to
be
a
treasure
beyond
all
price
.
And
in
Christianity
—
such
Christianity
,
I
mean
,
as
true
taste
can
accept
—
culture
sees
the
guide
to
the
real
significance
of
life
,
and
the
explanation
,
’
Mr.
Luke
added
with
a
sigh
,
‘of
that
melancholy
which
in
our
day
is
attendant
upon
all
clear
sight.’
‘But
why
,
’
said
Allen
,
‘if
you
know
so
well
what
life’s
meaning
is
,
need
you
feel
this
melancholy
at
all
?
’
‘Ah
!
’
said
Mr.
Luke
,
‘it
is
from
this
very
knowledge
that
the
melancholy
I
speak
of
springs
.
We
—
the
cultured
—
we
indeed
see
.
But
the
world
at
large
does
not
.
It
will
not
listen
to
us
.
It
thinks
we
are
talking
nonsense
.
Surely
that
is
enough
to
sadden
us
.
Then
,
too
,
our
ears
are
perpetually
being
pained
and
deafened
by
the
din
of
the
two
opposing
Philistinisms
—
science
and
orthodoxy
—
both
equally
vulgar
,
and
equally
useless
.
But
the
masses
cannot
see
this
.
It
is
impossible
to
persuade
some
that
science
can
teach
them
nothing
worth
knowing
,
and
others
that
the
dogmatic
utterances
of
the
gospels
are
either
ignorant
mistakes
or
oriental
metaphors
.
Don’t
you
find
this
,
Jenkinson
?
’
he
added
,
addressing
the
Doctor
across
the
table
in
a
loud
mournful
voice
.
‘Laurence
,
’
said
the
Doctor
,
apparently
not
hearing
the
question
,
‘haven’t
we
talked
of
this
quite
long
enough
?
Town
and
Country
—
let
us
go
on
to
that
;
or
else
we
shall
be
getting
very
much
behind-hand.’
These
words
of
the
Doctor’s
caused
a
rapid
change
in
the
conversation
.
And
as
it
appeared
impossible
to
agree
as
to
what
the
aim
of
life
was
,
most
turned
eagerly
to
the
simpler
question
of
where
it
might
be
best
attained
.
At
first
there
seemed
to
be
a
general
sense
on
all
sides
that
it
was
a
duty
to
prefer
the
country
.
There
,
the
voices
of
Nature
spoke
to
the
soul
more
freely
,
the
air
was
purer
and
fresher
;
the
things
in
life
that
were
really
valuable
were
more
readily
taken
at
their
true
worth
;
foolish
vanities
and
trivial
cares
were
less
likely
to
degrade
the
character
;
one
could
have
flowers
;
one
could
listen
to
the
music
of
birds
and
rivers
;
a
country
house
was
more
comfortable
than
a
town
one
;
and
few
prospects
were
so
charming
as
an
English
park
.
But
the
voice
of
Mr.
Saunders
was
soon
heard
proclaiming
that
progress
was
almost
entirely
confined
to
towns
,
and
that
the
modern
liberal
could
find
little
scope
for
action
in
the
country
.
‘If
he
does
anything
there
,
’
Mr.
Saunders
said
,
‘he
can
only
make
his
tenants
more
comfortable
and
contented
;
and
that
is
simply
attaching
them
more
to
the
existing
order
of
things
.
Indeed
,
even
now
,
as
matters
stand
,
the
healthy
rustic
,
with
his
fresh
complexion
and
honest
eye
,
is
absolutely
incapable
of
appreciating
the
tyranny
of
religion
and
society
.
But
the
true
liberal
is
undeceived
by
his
pleasing
exterior
,
and
sees
a
far
nobler
creature
in
the
pale
narrow-chested
operative
of
the
city
,
who
at
once
responds
to
the
faintest
cry
of
insurgence.’
Slight
causes
often
produce
large
results
;
and
these
utterances
of
Mr.
Saunders
turned
the
entire
torrent
of
opinion
into
a
different
channel
.
Mr.
Luke
,
who
had
a
moment
before
been
talking
about
‘liberal
air
,
’
and
‘sedged
brooks
,
’
and
‘meadow
grass
,
’
now
admitted
that
one’s
country
neighbours
were
sure
to
be
narrow-minded
sectarians
,
and
that
it
was
better
to
live
amongst
cultured
society
,
even
under
a
London
fog
,
than
to
look
at
all
the
splendour
of
provincial
sunsets
,
in
company
with
a
parson
who
could
talk
of
nothing
but
his
parishioners
and
justification
by
faith
.
Others
,
too
,
followed
in
the
same
direction
;
and
the
verdict
of
the
majority
soon
seemed
to
be
that
,
except
in
a
large
country
house
,
country
life
,
though
it
might
be
very
beautiful
,
was
still
very
tiresome
.
But
the
voice
of
Mr.
Saunders
was
again
heard
,
during
a
pause
,
laying
it
down
that
no
true
liberal
could
ever
care
to
live
in
the
country
now
;
and
Lady
Ambrose
,
who
highly
disapproved
of
him
and
his
views
in
general
,
saw
here
a
fitting
opportunity
for
contradicting
him
,
asserting
that
,
though
she
and
her
husband
were
both
advanced
,
liberals
,
yet
the
pleasantest
part
of
their
year
was
that
spent
upon
their
moor
in
Scotland
.
‘And
then
,
too
,
’
she
added
,
turning
to
Laurence
,
‘I
am
devoted
to
our
place
in
Gloucestershire
,
and
I
would
not
miss
for
anything
such
things
as
my
new
dairy
,
and
my
cottages
,
with
the
old
women
in
them.’
‘And
yet
,
’
said
Laurence
,
smiling
,
‘Sir
George
would
never
go
near
the
place
if
it
were
not
for
the
shooting.’
‘Indeed
he
would
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
a
little
indignantly
.
‘He
likes
the
life
so
much
,
and
is
so
fond
of
his
gardens
,
and
greenhouses
,
and
—
’
But
she
was
here
interrupted
by
Mr.
Herbert
,
who
,
mistaking
the
Sir
George
Ambrose
mentioned
for
another
Baronet
of
the
same
name
—
a
gentleman
of
a
very
old
but
impoverished
Catholic
family
—
broke
in
as
follows
,
somewhat
to
the
consternation
of
Lady
Ambrose
,
whose
husband
was
a
great
cotton-spinner
,
of
the
most
uncertain
origin
.
‘Sir
George
,
’
he
said
,
‘is
,
as
I
know
well
,
an
entirely
honest
gentleman
of
ancient
lineage
.
He
is
indeed
a
perfectly
beautiful
type
of
what
the
English
Squire
properly
ought
to
be
.
For
he
lives
upon
his
own
land
,
and
amongst
his
own
people
;
and
is
a
complete
and
lovely
example
to
them
of
a
life
quite
simple
indeed
,
but
in
the
highest
sense
loyal
,
noble
,
and
orderly
.
But
what
is
one
amongst
so
many
?
To
most
of
his
own
order
Sir
George
Ambrose
appears
merely
as
a
madman
,
because
he
sees
that
it
is
altogether
a
nobler
thing
for
a
man
to
be
brave
and
chivalrous
than
it
is
to
be
fashionable
;
and
because
he
looks
forward
on
his
dying
day
to
remembering
the
human
souls
that
he
has
saved
alive
,
rather
than
the
pheasants
that
he
has
shot
dead.’
Now
,
the
husband
of
Lady
Ambrose
being
known
to
most
present
for
his
magnificent
new
country
house
,
his
immense
preserves
,
and
his
yacht
of
four
hundred
tons
that
never
went
out
of
the
Solent
,
there
was
naturally
some
wonder
excited
by
Mr.
Herbert’s
words
,
since
the
thought
of
any
other
Sir
George
never
came
for
an
instant
into
anyone’s
head
.
Lady
Ambrose
herself
was
in
utter
amazement
.
She
could
not
tell
what
to
make
of
it
,
and
she
was
as
near
looking
confused
as
she
had
ever
been
in
her
life
.
The
awkwardness
of
the
situation
was
felt
by
many
:
and
to
cover
it
a
hum
of
conversation
sprang
up
,
with
forced
alacrity
.
But
this
did
not
make
matters
much
better
;
for
in
a
very
short
time
Mr.
Herbert’s
voice
was
again
audible
,
uttering
words
of
no
measured
denunciation
against
the
great
land-owners
of
England
,
‘who
were
once
,
’
he
said
,
‘in
some
true
sense
a
Nobility
,
but
are
now
the
portentousest
Ignobility
that
the
world
ever
set
eyes
upon.’
Everyone
felt
that
this
was
approaching
dangerous
ground
:
nor
were
they
at
all
reassured
when
Mr.
Herbert
,
who
was
,
it
appeared
,
quoting
from
a
letter
which
he
had
received
,
he
said
,
that
morning
from
the
greatest
of
modern
thinkers
,
concluded
amidst
a
complete
silence
with
the
following
passage
,
‘Yes
,
here
they
come
,
with
coats
of
the
newest
fashion
,
with
pedigrees
of
the
newest
forging
,
with
their
moors
in
Scotland
,
with
their
rivers
in
Norway
,
with
their
game
preserves
in
England
,
with
some
thousands
of
human
beings
calling
them
masters
,
somewhere
—
they
probably
forget
where
—
and
with
the
mind
of
a
thinking
man
,
or
with
the
heart
of
a
gentleman
,
nowhere
.
Here
they
come
,
our
cotton-spinning
plutocrats
,
bringing
in
luxury
,
and
vulgarity
,
and
damnation
!
’
These
last
words
came
like
a
thunderclap
.
Laurence
hardly
knew
where
to
look
.
The
result
,
however
,
was
more
satisfactory
than
could
have
been
expected
.
There
are
some
emotions
,
as
we
all
know
,
that
can
be
calmed
best
by
tears
.
Lady
Ambrose
did
not
cry
.
She
did
something
better
—
she
laughed
.
‘What
would
poor
Sir
George
say
?
’
she
whispered
to
Laurence
.
‘He
is
fishing
in
Norway
at
this
very
moment
.
But
do
you
really
think
,
’
she
went
on
,
being
resolved
not
to
shirk
the
subject
,
‘that
Society
is
really
as
bad
as
Mr.
Herbert
says
?
I
was
looking
into
the
the
other
day
,
and
I
am
sure
nothing
goes
on
in
London
now
so
bad
as
what
he
describes.’
‘Do
you
know
,
Lady
Ambrose
,
’
said
Mr.
Herbert
,
who
concluded
that
he
had
given
her
much
pleasure
by
his
late
remarks
,
‘I
think
the
state
of
London
at
the
present
day
infinitely
worse
than
anything
Grammont
or
his
biographer
could
have
dreamt
of.’
‘Quite
so
,
’
said
Mr.
Luke
;
‘the
bulk
of
men
in
our
days
are
just
as
immoral
as
they
were
in
Charles
the
Second’s
;
the
only
difference
is
that
they
are
incomparably
more
stupid
;
and
that
,
instead
of
decking
their
immorality
with
the
jewels
of
wit
,
they
clumsily
try
to
cover
it
with
the
tarpaulin
of
respectability
.
This
has
not
made
the
immorality
any
the
better
;
it
has
only
made
respectability
the
most
contemptible
word
in
the
English
language.’
‘The
fop
of
Charles’s
time
,
’
said
Leslie
,
‘aimed
at
seeming
a
wit
and
a
scholar
.
The
fop
of
ours
aims
at
being
a
fool
and
a
dunce.’
‘Yes
,
’
said
Mr.
Herbert
,
‘society
was
diseased
then
,
it
is
true
,
and
marks
of
disease
disfigured
and
scarred
its
features
.
Still
,
in
spite
of
this
,
it
had
some
sound
life
left
in
it
.
But
now
the
entire
organism
is
dissolving
and
falling
asunder
.
All
the
parts
are
refusing
to
perform
their
functions
.
How
,
indeed
,
could
this
possibly
be
otherwise
,
when
the
head
itself
,
the
aristocracy
,
the
part
whose
special
office
is
to
see
and
think
,
has
now
lost
completely
both
its
brains
and
eyes
,
and
has
nothing
head-like
left
it
except
the
mouth
;
and
that
cannot
so
much
as
speak
.
It
can
only
eat
and
yawn.’
‘Society
,
you
see
,
Mr.
Herbert
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
who
felt
bound
to
say
something
,
‘is
so
much
larger
now
than
it
was.’
‘Oh
,
’
said
Laurence
,
shrugging
his
shoulders
,
‘in
that
sense
,
I
really
think
there
is
almost
no
society
now.’
‘I
don’t
see
how
there
can
be
,
’
said
Miss
Merton
,
‘when
what
is
called
society
is
simply
one
great
scramble
after
fashion
.
And
fashion
is
such
a
delicate
fruit
,
that
it
is
sure
to
be
spoilt
if
it
is
scrambled
for.’
‘I
am
glad
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘you
don’t
abuse
fashion
as
some
people
do
.
I
look
on
it
as
the
complexion
of
good
society
,
and
as
the
rouge
of
bad
;
and
when
society
gets
sickly
and
loses
its
complexion
,
it
takes
to
rouge
—
as
it
is
doing
now
;
and
the
rouge
eats
into
its
whole
system
,
and
makes
its
health
worse
than
ever.’
‘You
are
the
last
person
,
Mr.
Laurence
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
‘you
who
go
out
so
much
,
that
I
should
have
expected
to
hear
talking
against
society
like
that.’
‘Ah
!
’
said
Laurence
,
‘we
cannot
escape
from
our
circumstances
:
I
only
wish
we
could
.
I
go
into
the
best
society
I
can
get
,
but
I
am
not
blind
to
the
fact
that
it
is
very
bad
.
Of
course
there
are
a
number
of
the
most
delightful
people
in
it
:
I
am
not
denying
that
for
a
moment
.
But
not
only
is
society
not
made
up
out
of
a
few
of
its
parts
,
but
even
the
best
parts
suffer
from
the
tone
of
the
whole
.
And
taking
society
as
a
whole
,
I
honestly
doubt
if
it
was
ever
at
any
time
so
generally
bad
as
it
is
now
.
I
am
not
saying
that
it
has
forgotten
its
duties
—
that
it
cannot
even
conceive
that
it
ever
had
any
;
that
is
of
course
quite
true
:
but
Mr.
Herbert
has
said
that
already
.
I
am
not
complaining
of
its
moral
badness
,
but
of
its
social
badness
—
of
its
want
of
practical
skill
in
life
as
a
fine
art
—
a
want
that
it
often
feels
itself
,
and
yet
has
not
the
skill
to
remedy
.
Think
for
a
moment
how
barbarous
are
its
amusements
;
how
little
culture
there
is
in
its
general
tone
;
how
incapable
it
is
of
any
enlightened
interest
!
’
‘Really
,
’
said
Mr.
Stockton
,
‘I
think
you
are
doing
society
a
great
injustice
.
It
seems
to
me
that
enlightened
interest
is
the
very
thing
that
is
everywhere
on
the
spread
.
The
light
of
intellect
is
emerging
from
the
laboratory
and
the
dissecting-room
,
where
it
had
its
birth
,
and
is
gilding
,
with
its
clear
rays
,
the
dinner-table
,
and
even
the
ball-room
.
A
freer
,
a
truer
,
and
a
grander
view
of
things
,
seems
to
me
to
be
rapidly
dawning
on
the
world.’
‘I
fear
,
my
dear
sir
,
’
said
Mr.
Luke
,
‘that
these
pleasing
opinions
of
yours
will
not
bear
testing.’
‘Do
you
mean
,
’
said
Mr.
Stockton
,
‘that
society
as
a
rule
is
not
infinitely
better
informed
now
than
it
was
thirty
years
ago
?
Has
it
not
infinitely
fewer
prejudices
and
infinitely
more
knowledge
?
’
‘We
should
look
to
the
effects
of
the
knowledge
,
not
to
the
knowledge
itself
,
’
said
Mr.
Luke
.
‘We
cannot
test
the
health
of
a
society
from
looking
over
its
examination
papers
in
physical
science.’
‘How
would
you
test
