small nation from
destruction. You could see men giving their lives to the aggrandisement
of an empire. And the men who did these things had the best brains and
the quickest wits and the warmest hearts of their time. But today,
whenever you meet a first-class man who is both enthusiastic and
altruistic, you may be sure that his pet scheme is neither theological,
military nor political; you may be sure that he has got into his head
the notion that some class of persons somewhere are not being treated
fairly, are not being treated with fraternal goodwill, and that he is
determined to put the matter right, or perish.
* * * * *
In England, nearly all the most interesting people are social reformers:
and the only circles of society in which you are not bored, in which
there is real conversation, are the circles of social reform. These
people alone have an abounding and convincing faith. Their faith has,
for example, convinced many of the best literary artists of the day,
with the result that a large proportion of the best modern imaginative
literature has been inspired by the dream of social justice. Take away
that idea from the works of H.G. Wells, John Galsworthy and George
Bernard Shaw, and there would be exactly nothing left. Despite any
appearance to the contrary, therefore, the idea of universal goodwill is
really alive upon the continents of this planet: more so, indeed, than
any other idea--for the vitality of an idea depends far less on the
numbers of people who hold it than on the quality of the heart and brain
of the people who hold it. Whether the growth of the idea is due to the
spiritual awe and humility which are the consequence of increased
scientific knowledge, I cannot say, and I do not seriously care.
FOUR
THE APPOSITENESS OF CHRISTMAS
"Yes," you say, "I am quite at one with you as to the immense importance
of goodwill in social existence, and I have the same faith in it as you
have. But why a festival? Why eating and drinking and ceremonies? Surely
one can have faith without festivals?"
* * * * *
The answer is that one cannot; or at least that in practice, one never
does. A disinclination for festivals, a morbid self-conscious fear of
letting oneself go, is a sure sign of lack of faith. If you have not
enough enthusiasm for the cult of goodwill to make you positively
desire to celebrate the cult, then your faith is insu
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