A nature in love with
beauty cannot reconcile itself to the sight; it longs for harmony, for
something else than perpetual dissonance. The common condition of human
society must indeed be accepted; tumult, hatred, fraud, crime, the
ferocity of self-interest, the tenacity of prejudice, are perennial; but
the philosopher sighs over it; his heart is not in it; his ambition is
to see human history from a height; his ear is set to catch the music of
the eternal spheres.
March 15, 1879.--I have been turning over "Les histories de mon Parrain"
by Stahl, and a few chapters of "Nos Fils et nos Filles" by Legouve.
These writers press wit, grace, gayety, and charm into the service of
goodness; their desire is to show that virtue is not so dull nor common
sense so tiresome as people believe. They are persuasive moralists,
captivating story-tellers; they rouse the appetite for good. This pretty
manner of theirs, however, has its dangers. A moral wrapped up in sugar
goes down certainly, but it may be feared that it only goes down because
of its sugar. The Sybarites of to-day will tolerate a sermon which is
delicate enough to flatter their literary sensuality; but it is their
taste which is charmed, not their conscience which is awakened; their
principle of conduct escapes untouched.
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