forth be ours no longer; while, in place of a philosophy of life which had grown rich and sacred to us through association, we may have to accept a new theory of the universe and man which for a time at least may seem chilly and bleak and depressing. In such a crisis as this—and few serious-minded men of our generation can hope to escape some mental upheaval attendant upon the progress of thought—we must nerve ourselves with the high doctrine of veracity: "Let fact be fact, and life the thing it can"—first, the truth as we can learn it, and then, whatever happiness or comfort may be gained from it for ourselves and others.[1]
Even this is not quite all. Strict adherence to veracity, still further analyzed, will be found to include not simply fortitude in facing new truths for ourselves, but also the faith that, in the long run, truth will always be better than error for the world at large. Here, of course, we touch a question of acknowledged difficulty, and one of which no adequate treatment can be undertaken in this place. Yet the difficulty must at least be presented. Given a creed or scheme of life which seems to bring hope and comfort to "the complaining millions of men" and many of us, while ourselves convinced of its unsoundness, will more or less deliberately cherish the opinion that it is, on the whole, best that the world should be left unenlightened; and we find a kind of theoretic basis for our position in the modern evolutionary doctrine of the congruity which exists in the average of cases between culture and belief. Many of the older ideas out of which past generations drew strength and inspiration may appear to us to be forever discredited. But shall we, therefore, carry our conclusions out into the common places of life—into the streets, the markets, the schools? Shall we force them, from the outside, upon those intellectually and morally unprepared to receive them? Shall we preach them as truths "to those that eddy round and round"? How great is the responsibility of each of us in these matters will be felt at once by all to whom the present problems in conduct are something more than questions for academic speculation. Is there not, it may be urged, a time and a season for all things—even for speaking the truth? And though it may never be conceived as part of our duty to state publicly what we know to be false, may we not oftentimes be justified in holding our tongues?
I need hardly say that this is a difficulty to which thoughtful men have been fully alive from the time of the Greek and roman moralists onward. In our own day it has been powerfully presented in one
- ↑ Noteworthy examples of courage shown in the acceptance of what the writers deemed truth, though unpalatable truth, will be found in James Thomson's sonnet, A Recusant; the last chapter of Romanes's Candid Examination of Theism (published under the pseudonym of Physicus); and the concluding paragraphs of Pearson's National Life and Character.
