and by it the doors are opened into that most sacred world in which a
man and a woman succumb together to the power and beauty of an infant,
thrill together over its untold charms, and find that little hands are
clutching at their hearts with amazing and mystic power. And not until
that point is reached is love made perfect. Mere lover's love is a
selfish thing. I do not say it in criticism, for I believe lovers have
an inalienable right to live for a while simply for each other. But
from the point when they bend together over a baby's cradle they take a
step up in life, and their love becomes a call to service, whereby its
selfishness is purged away. Parentage is usually thought of as
supremely the crown of a woman's life. So it is, though it is not its
only possible crown. But I believe that it is equally the crown of a
man's life. It is perhaps true that the production of true fathers
belongs to a later stage of human evolution than the production of
mothers, for fathers are not so obviously essential to young children.
But I hazard the suggestion that one of the prime needs of the stage at
which we have now arrived is just that men should learn the arts and
powers of fatherhood, and take a larger part in the rearing of
children. And I believe men will find, as I have said, that parentage
is for them also the crown of life. With many men the emotions that
come with fatherhood are the deepest of which they are capable, and
they are also the finest. Even men who seem to me pretty low in the
scale of humanity often recover some of their lost manhood when under
the power of their own little children. And with normal men their
fatherhood comes to dominate life.

Its most obvious result is that it compels a man to work, and to work
hard. We are mostly born slackers. We should like to take many
holidays, and if we were left alone we would do it. But parentage binds
us to the wheel. We discover that we have got to face the grind,