"I wonder
how many people there are nowadays who have passed through this last
experience of ineffectual invocation, this appeal to the fading shadow
of a vanished God. In the night. In utter loneliness. Answer me! Speak
to me! Does he answer? In the silence you hear the little blood vessels
whisper in your ears. You see a faint glow of colour on the darkness...."
Dr. Martineau sat without a word.
"I can believe that over all things Righteousness rules. I can believe
that. But Righteousness is not friendliness nor mercy nor comfort nor
any such dear and intimate things. This cuddling up to Righteousness! It
is a dream, a delusion and a phase. I've tried all that long ago. I've
given it up long ago. I've grown out of it. Men do--after forty. Our
souls were made in the squatting-place of the submen of ancient times.
They are made out of primitive needs and they die before our bodies as
those needs are satisfied. Only young people have souls, complete. The
need for a personal God, feared but reassuring, is a youth's need. I no
longer fear the Old Man nor want to propitiate the Old Man nor believe
he matters any more. I'm a bit of an Old Man myself I discover. Yes. But
the other thing still remains."
"The Great Mother of the Gods," said Dr.
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