All the same, it will be as well if Jones does not worship the sun and moon.  If he does, there is a tendency for him to imitate them; to say, that because the sun burns insects alive, he may burn insects alive.  He thinks that because the sun gives people sun-stroke, he may give his neighbour measles.  He thinks that because the moon is said to drive men mad, he may drive his wife mad.  This ugly side of mere external optimism had also shown itself in the ancient world.  About the time when the Stoic idealism had begun to show the weaknesses of pessimism, the old nature worship of the ancients had begun to show the enormous weaknesses of optimism.  Nature worship is natural enough while the society is young, or, in other words, Pantheism is all right as long as it is the worship of Pan.  But Nature has another side which experience and sin are not slow in finding out, and it is no flippancy to say of the god Pan that he soon showed the cloven hoof.  The only objection to Natural Religion is that somehow it always becomes unnatural.  A man loves Nature in the morning for her innocence and amiability, and at nightfall, if he is loving her still, it is for her darkness and her cruelty.  He washes at dawn in clear water as did the Wise Man of the Stoics, yet, somehow at the dark end of the day, he is bathing in hot bull’s blood, as did Julian the Apostate.  The mere pursuit of health always leads to something unhealthy.  Physical nature must not be made the direct object of obedience; it must be enjoyed, not worshipped.  Stars and mountains must not be taken seriously.  If they are, we end where the pagan nature worship ended.  Because the earth is kind, we can imitate all her cruelties.  Because sexuality is sane, we can all go mad about sexuality.  Mere optimism had reached its insane and appropriate termination.  The theory that everything was good had become an orgy of everything that was bad.

On the other side our idealist pessimists were represented by the old remnant of the Stoics.  Marcus Aurelius and his friends had really given up the idea of any god in the universe and looked only to the god within.  They had no hope of any virtue in nature, and hardly any hope of any virtue in society.  They had not enough interest in the outer world really to wreck or revolutionise it.  They did not love the city enough to set fire to it.  Thus the ancient world was exactly in our own desolate dilemma.  The only people who really enjoyed this world were busy breaking it up; and the virtuous people did not care enough about them to knock them down.  In this dilemma (the same as ours) Christianity suddenly stepped in and offered a singular answer, which the world eventually accepted as the answer.  It was the answer then, and I think it is the answer now.