just ourselves if we be not convinced of the absolute injustice of
fate? We no longer believe in the ideals once held by saints, and we
are confident that a wise God will hold of as little account the
duty done through hope of recompense, as the evil done for sake of
gain; and this even though the recompense hoped for be nothing but
the self-ensuing peace of mind. We say that God, who must be at
least as high as the highest thoughts He has implanted in the best
of men, will withhold His smile from those who have desired but to
please Him; and that they only who have done good for the sake of
good and as though He existed not, they only who have loved virtue
more than they loved God Himself, shall be allowed to stand by His
side. And yet, and for all this, no sooner does the event confront
us, than we discover that we still are guided by the "moral maxims"
of our childhood. Of more avail would be a "List of chastised
virtues." The soul that is quick with life would find its profit
therein; the cause of virtue would gain in vigour and in majesty.
Let us not forget that it is from the very nonmorality of destiny
that a nobler morality must spring into life; for here, as
everywhere, man is never so strong with his own native strength as
when he realises that he stands entirely alone. As we consider the
crowning injustice of fate, it is the negation of high moral law
that disturbs us; but from this negation there at once arises a
moral law that is higher still. He who no longer believes in reward
or punishment must do good for the sake of good. Even though a moral
law seem on the eve of disappearing, we need have no cause for
disquiet; its place will be speedily filled by a law that is greater
still. To attribute morality to fate is but to lessen the purity of
our ideal; to admit the injustice of fate is to throw open before us
the ever-widening fields of a still loftier morality. Let us not
think virtue will crumble, though God Himself seem unjust. Where