And if there are
men who regret the Good Old Times, without too clear a notion of what
they were, they should at least be thankful that we are rid of that
misguided energy of faith which justified conscience in making men
unrelentingly cruel. Even Mr. Leckie softens a little at the thought of
the many innocent and beautiful beliefs of which a growing scepticism has
robbed us in the decay of supernaturalism. But we need not despair; for,
after all, scepticism is first cousin of credulity, and we are not
surprised to see the tough doubter Montaigne hanging up his offerings in
the shrine of our Lady of Loreto. Scepticism commonly takes up the room
left by defect of imagination, and is the very quality of mind most
likely to seek for sensual proof of supersensual things. If one came from
the dead, it could not believe; and yet it longs for such a witness, and
will put up with a very dubious one. So long as night is left and the
helplessness of dream, the wonderful will not cease from among men. While
we are the solitary prisoners of darkness, the witch seats herself at the
loom of thought, and weaves strange figures into the web that looks so
familiar and ordinary in the dry light of every-day. Just as we are
flattering ourselves that the old spirit of sorcery is laid, behold the
tables are tipping and the floors drumming all over Christendom.
Pages:
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214