banks of a stream, doing nothing and thinking of nothing, only
throwing stones into the water?'

The ascetic view of things was wholly distasteful to him. He had a
simple way of taking what was bright and enjoyable in life, refusing to
allow anything but very distinct duty to interfere with the prompt
acceptance of the gifts of the gods. Yet, as very seldom happens in
natures thus composed, he was before all things unselfish. That is to
say, he struck those who knew him best as less of a centre to himself
than most other people are. Though thoroughly capable of strong and
persistent wishes, and as far as possible from having a character of
faint outlines and pale colours, it came to him quite naturally and
without an effort to think of those for whom he cared, and of himself
not at all. There was something of the child of nature in him. Though
nobody liked the fruits of cultivated life better--order, neatness, and
grace in all daily things--yet nobody was more ready to make short work
of conventionalities that might thrust shadows between him or others and
the substance of happiness.

It would be difficult for me here to examine Mr. Greg's writings with
perfect freedom and appropriateness. The man rather than the author has
prompted this short sketch. His books tell their own story. There is not
one of them that does not abound in suggestion both in politics and in
subjects where there is more room for free meditation and the subtler
qualities of mind than politics can ever afford. Mr. Greg is not one of
the thinkers whom we can place in any school, still less in any party.
It may be safely said of him that he never took up an idea or an
opinion, as most writers even of high repute are not afraid of doing,
simply because it was proffered to him, or because it was held by others
with whom in a general way he was disposed to agree. He did not even
shrink from what looked like self-contradiction, so honest was his
feeling for truth, and so little faith had he in the infallibility of
sect and the trustworthiness of system. In the _Enigmas of Life_ (1875)
there is much that is hard to reconcile with his own fundamental
theology, and he was quite aware of it. He was content with the thought
that he had found fragments of true ore. Hence the extraordinary
difficulty of classifying him. One would be inclined to place him as a
Theist, yet can we give any other name but Agnostic to a man who speaks
in such terms as these?--