because the plain alternative is that the bairns would starve. And so
we do it. Of course at times we rebel. You may hear men every now and
then complaining half cynically and half humorously that, having once
been indiscreet enough to fall in love, they were thenceforth swept
along by rapids till at last they found themselves involved in all the
paraphernalia of family life from perambulators to doctor's bills. But
there are few men who do not know in their hearts that the toils have
been the making of them. If love led only to delights, it would ruin
us. It is because it leads also to heavy labor that it makes us. It is
because I see this so clearly that I am not so much distressed as some
people are over the fact that motherhood also means very hard work.
[Footnote: No doubt in our disordered social life it often means far
too much work. No doubt thousands of mothers are simply crushed by it.
But it is not a good thing when mothers can evade even reasonably hard
work.] The great discoveries of the moral and spiritual worlds are only
made in and through work--yes, and sometimes through work that is sheer
grind. There is no other road to moral or spiritual maturity either for
man or woman. I have this deeply rooted objection to inherited wealth--
that it makes possible an escape from this redeeming discipline, and by
removing one of the normal consequences of love often leads to the
spoiling of love.

Let us, however, be clear about this further fact--love does not merely
lead to enforced labor, it also redeems that labor. Not merely does a
man face up to his job because it is in a sense done for love's sake,
but love itself supplies the necessary respite and counterbalance to
the burden of toil. We all need recreations. The tightly drawn string
must be relaxed. Moods come when normal and quite Christian men say,
"Oh, I can't stick it any longer; I want to enjoy myself." We naturally
demand that there should be an element of delight somewhere in life.