the universal pre-Christian festival of the winter solstice, Yule, when
mankind celebrated the triumph of the sun over the powers of darkness,
when the night begins to decrease and the day to increase, when the
year turns, and hope is born again because the worst is over. No more
suitably symbolic moment could have been chosen for a festival of faith,
goodwill and joy. And the appositeness of the moment is just as perfect
in this era of electric light and central heating, as it was in the era
of Virgil, who, by the way, described a Christmas tree. We shall say
this year, with exactly the same accents of relief and hope as our pagan
ancestors used, and as the woaded savage used: "The days will begin to
lengthen now!" For, while we often falsely fancy that we have subjugated
nature to our service, the fact is that we are as irremediably as ever
at the mercy of nature.

* * * * *

Indeed, the attitude of us moderns towards the forces by which our
existence is governed ought to be, and probably is, more reverent and
awe-struck than that of the earlier world. The discoveries of science
have at once quickened our imagination and compelled us to admit that
what we know is the merest trifle. The pagan in his ignorance explained
everything. Our knowledge has only deepened the mystery, and all that we
shall learn will but deepen it further. We can explain the solstice. We
are aware with absolute certitude that the solstice and the equinox and
the varying phenomena of the seasons are due to the fact that the plane
of the equator is tilted at a slight angle to the plane of the ecliptic.
When we put on the first overcoat in autumn, and when we give orders to
let the furnace out in spring, we know that we are arranging our lives
in accordance with that angle. And we are quite duly proud of our
knowledge. And much good does our knowledge do us!