It hangs, a perpetual reminder of that divine reason and justice
which abides behind all compromises and all legitimate variety;
the one straight line; the limit of the intellect; the dark and
ultimate dogma of the world.
The Sentimentalist
"Sentimentalism is the most broken reed on which righteousness can lean";
these were, I think, the exact words of a distinguished American visitor
at the Guildhall, and may Heaven forgive me if I do him a wrong.
It was spoken in illustration of the folly of supporting Egyptian
and other Oriental nationalism, and it has tempted me to some
reflections on the first word of the sentence.
The Sentimentalist, roughly speaking, is the man who wants to eat
his cake and have it. He has no sense of honour about ideas;
he will not see that one must pay for an idea as for anything else.
He will not see that any worthy idea, like any honest woman, can only
be won on its own terms, and with its logical chain of loyalty.
One idea attracts him; another idea really inspires him;
a third idea flatters him; a fourth idea pays him. He will
have them all at once in one wild intellectual harem, no
matter how much they quarrel and contradict each other. The
Sentimentalist is a philosophic profligate, who tries to capture
every mental beauty without reference to its rival beauties;
who will not even be off with the old love before he is on with the new.
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