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And who are you, to dictate how we shall order our
day? Go! Shiver and struggle in your hyperborean dens. Trample about
those misty rain-sodden fields, and hack each other's eyes out with
antideluvian bayonets. Or career up and down the ocean, in your absurd
ships, to pick the pockets of men better than yourselves. That is you
mode of self-expression. It is not ours.' And Mediterranean people will
lead the way. They have suffered more than all from the imbecilities of
kinds and priests and soldiers and politicians. They now make an end of
this neurasthenic gadding and getting. They focus themselves anew and
regain their lost dignity. That ancient individualistic tone reasserts
itself. Man becomes a personality once more--"
He continued for some time in this prophetic strain, the bishop
listening with considerable approbation though, at a certain point of
the discourse, he would have liked to drop a word about Thermopylae and
Marathon. He also knew something of the evils of Northern
industrialism--how it stunts the body and warps the mind.


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