ing guise of higher truth. All the impatience and
playfulness in the world conspires with them. But as one of the demos
of moral dullards, I get no little comfort from applying to Nietsche
and Ibsen, and to certain prophet litterateurs of England, Burke's
reproof of Lord Bolingbroke.

When men find that something can be said in favor of what, on the very
proposal, they have thought utterly indefensible, they grow doubtful of
their own reason; they are thrown into a sort of pleasing surprise;
they run along with the speaker, charmed and captivated to find such a
plentiful harvest of reasoning, where all seemed barren and
unpromising. . . . There is a sort of gloss upon ingenious falsehoods
that dazzles the imagination, but which neither belongs to, nor becomes
the sober aspect of truth. . . . In such cases, the writer has a
certain fire and {7} alacrity inspired into him by a consciousness,
that let it fare how it will with the subject, his ingenuity will be
sure of applause.[3]

It is safe to accept morality as one accepts agriculture, navigation,
constitutional government, or any other tried solution of an
unavoidable problem. There is false opinion here as elsewhere, and
hollow convention is not infrequently paraded as duty and wisdom; but
the nucleus of morality is verified truth, the precipitate of mankind's
prolonged experiment in living.

I do not propose, however, to be satisfied with so modest a claim. It
might still be contended that morality is doubtless true so far as it
goes, or well enough for those who care for it; but that it will
scarcely concern other than the more coarse-grained and less
adventurous minds. It is customary to associate high wisdom with the
pursuit of some special interest, for its own sake, and under no wider
law than a sort of professional etiquette or code of honor. Business
is business, art is art, truth is truth, and for one who cares to "go
in for it," virtue is for virtue's sake. Those who ride hobbies do not
object to the moralist, provided he does not intrude. But if he
applies his rules to other than his own personal or domestic affairs,
he is berated as an impertinent busybody who is talking of things he
does not understand. Now I venture to assert that the {8} moralist in
the nature of the case can never be impertinent, though he may be
impolite or even insulting. He can never be impertinent because,
contrary to the formula of the day, there is no such thin