remembered not as a poet, but as a combatant at
Marathon. Isocrates speaks as if the greatness of
Athens lay in its empire. Every generation is a bad
judge of itself. Much of which it is proud is for-
gotten by its successors. Whole epochs which were
well satisfied with themselves are found in the
sequel to matter nothing to the world, and to have
made no contribution to its progress. Two hundred
years hence our own age may be regarded as one
that possessed, for its time, considerable material
civilization but very little else, a substantial body
and a soul which died from fatty degeneration.

The real cause of our malaise is the absence of
what Huxley (afraid of the word 'spiritual') called
an 'ethical ideal'. This explains, if not the disease,
the difficulty of curing it. We do not know what
we believe; therefore we do not know what we want.
So we succumb to heady emotions, like nationalism,
fascism, communism, militarism, pacifism. ¹ 'L'esprit
croit naturellement et la volonté aime naturellement;
de sorte que, faute de vrais objets, il faut qu'ils
s'attachent aux faux.' ² We become the slaves of our
material civilization and not its masters. No steady
wind of purpose fills the sails of our ship. The
modern world has no definite view of life. Christ-
ianity, though still a living religion and, even with

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