otherwise, that such men as the hermit were to be found in that
forest, to mend Bertrand's head and his morals, at the same time? Is
it a matter to be regretted, or otherwise, that after twenty or
thirty years more of fighting and quarrelling and drinking, this same
Sir Bertrand--finding that on the whole the lust of the flesh, the
lust of the eye, and the pride of life, were poor paymasters, and
having very sufficient proof, in the ends of many a friend and foe,
that the wages of sin are death--'fell to religion likewise, and was
a hermit in that same place, after the holy man was dead; and was
made priest of that same chapel; and died in honour, having succoured
many good knights, and wayfaring men'?

One knows very well that it would not be right now; that it is not
needed now. It is childish to repeat that, when the question is, was
it right then--or, at least, as right as was possible then? Was it
needed then--or, at least, the nearest thing to that which was
needed?

If it was, why should not wisdom be justified of all her children?

One hopes that she was; for certainly, if any men ever needed to be
in the right, lest they should be of all men most miserable, it was
these same old hermits. Praying and preaching continually, they
lived on food which dogs would not eat, in dens in which dogs ought
not to live. They had their reasons. Possibly they knew their own
business best. Possibly also they knew their neighbour's business
somewhat; they knew that such generations as they lived in could not
be taught, save by some extravagant example of this kind, some
caricature, as it were, of the doctrines which were to be enforced.
Nothing less startling, perhaps, could have touched the dull hearts,