d on Theistic grounds, and
accordingly it has to be explained away. Pain, we are told, is the great
agent in our development; in the ethical sphere, it is the "purifying
fire," which purges the gold in us from its dross. All of which sounds
very pretty in a lecture, and looks very pretty in a book; but is apt to
excite disgust when a man is suffering from incurable cancer, or utter
destitution in the midst of plenty; or when a mother stands over the
corpse of her child, mangled in some terrible accident, or burnt to a
cinder in a fatal fire.

Certainly, pain subserves a partial purpose. It is sometimes a warning,
though the warning is often too late. But its function is immensely
overrated by Mr. Le Gallienne and other religionists. It is all very
well to talk about the "crucible," but half the people who go into it
are reduced to ashes. Mr. Le Gallienne will not accept Spinoza's view
that "pain is an unmistakable evil; joy the vitalising, fructifying
power." But the great mystic, William Blake, said the same thing in,
"Joys impregnate, sorrows bring forth." George Meredith has expressed
the same view in saying that "Adversity tests, it does not nourish
us." Even the struggle for existence does not add any strength to the
survivors. It sometimes cripples them. By eliminating the unfit--that
is, the weak--it raises the average capacity. But what a method for
Infinite Wisdom and Infinite Goodness! There was more sense, and less
cruelty, in the ancient method of infanticide.

Mr. Le Gallienne seems to feel that his theory of pain is too fantastic,
so he falls back on "mystery." "We can form no possible conception,"
he says, "of the processes of God." Why then does he talk about them
so consumedly? Ignorance is a good reason for silence, but none for
garrulity.

We must be "humble," says Mr. Le Gallienne, and recognise that we
only exist "to the praise and glory of God." We are his servants and
soldiers, and the pay is life!--"Had he willed it, this glorious gift
had never been ours. We might have still slept on unsentient,
unorganised, in the trodden dust." Very likely; but who could lose what
he never possessed? It is a small misfortune that can never be realised.

Mr. Le Gallienne leaps the final difficulty by exclaiming that "Man has
no rights in regard to God." He shakes hands with St. Paul, who asserts
the potter's power over the clay. Yes, but man is not clay. He lives and
feels. He has rights, even against God.