That is called humanity; it is the
mad leading the mad.... But why waste your time? Nature will have the last
word; Reason must win in the end; a genius, at once thinker and doer, will
come along some day and put the world right, at a happy moment when the din
of theologists is out of its ears. We want a new practical religion; for
Christianity, distorted and twisted through the centuries into its present
outworn, effete, ignoble shape, is a mere political force or a money-making
machine, according to the genius of the country which professes it. The
golden key of the founder, which is lost, may be found again, but I think
it never will be."
[Here the man elaborated his opinions. They were like himself: a medley--a
farrago--wherein ascerbity, acuteness, and a mind naturally philosophic
were stranded in the arid deserts of a pessimism bred partly from his own
decaying physical circumstances and partly from recognition of his own
wasted time.]
"I do not suppose that I shall paint any more. I had my Cornish picture
brought from its packing-case and framed, and supported on a great easel at
the foot of my bed while I was stricken down last month. Mistress Joan eyed
me curiously from under her hand, and through the night-watches, while my
man snored in the next chamber and I tossed with great unrest, the girl
seemed to live and move and smile at me under the flicker of the night
lamp.
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