to complete my being for me. They, too, tolerate me in my many phases for the same reason, probably. It pleased me to see, in one of the figures by which the Gnostics illustrated the progress of man, that Severity corresponded to Magnificence.’
‘In my quiet retreat, I read Xenophon, and became
more acquainted with his Socrates. I had before
known only the Socrates of Plato, one much more
to my mind. Socrates conformed to the Greek Church,
and it is evident with a sincere reverence, because it
was the growth of the national mind. He thought
best to stand on its platform, and to illustrate, though
with keen truth, by received forms. This was his
right way, as his influence was naturally private, for
individuals who could in some degree respond to the
teachings of his demon; he knew the multitude
would not understand him. But it was the other
way that Jesus took, preaching in the fields, and plucking
ears of corn on the Sabbath.’
‘Is it my defect of spiritual experience, that while
that weight of sagacity, which is the iron to the dart
of genius, is needful to satisfy me, the undertone of
another and a deeper knowledge does not please, does
not command me? Even in Handel’s Messiah, I am
half incredulous, half impatient, when the sadness of
the second part comes to check, before it interprets, the
promise of the first; and the strain, “Was ever sorrow
like to his sorrow,” is not for me, as I have been, as
I am. Yet Handel was worthy to speak of Christ.
The great chorus, “Since by man came death, by man
came also the resurrection of the dead; for as in
