joy over a sinner who repents than over ninety and nine just persons!—­Blood, blood, was what they craved; and did not the doctrine of Him whose followers they boastfully called themselves grow out of the blood of Him who shed it for all men alike,—­just as that lotos flower grows out of the clear water in the marble tank?  And it was the highest guardians and keepers of this teaching of mercy, who goaded on the fury of the mob:  Patriarchs, bishops, priests and deacons—­instead of pointing to the picture of the Shepherd who tenderly carries the lost sheep and brings it home to the fold.

“My own times seemed to me the worst that had ever been; aye, and—­as surely as man is the standard of all things—­so they are! for love is turned to hatred, mercy to implacable hardheartedness.  The thrones not only of the temporal but of the spiritual rulers, are dripping with the blood of their fellow-men.  Emperors and bishops set the example; subjects and churchmen follow it.  The great, the leading men of the struggle are copied by the small, by the peaceful candidates for spiritual benefices.  All that I saw as a man, in the open streets, I had already seen as a boy both in the low and high schools.  Every doctrine has its adherents; the man who casts in his lot with Cneius is hated by Caius, who forthwith speaks and writes to no other end than to vex and put down Cneius, and give him pain.  Each for his part strives his utmost to find out faults in his neighbor and to put him in the pillory, particularly if his antagonist is held the greater man, or is likely to overtop him.  Listen to the girls at the well, to the women at the spindle; no one is sure of applause who cannot tell some evil of the other men or women.  Who cares to listen to his neighbor’s praises?  The man who hears that his brother is happy at once envies him!  Hatred, hatred everywhere!  Everywhere the will, the desire, the passion for bringing grief and ruin on others rather than to help them, raise them and heal them!

“That is the spirit of my time; and everything within me revolted against it with sacred wrath.  I vowed in my heart that I would live and act differently; that my sole aim should be to succor the unfortunate, to help the wretched, to open my arms to those who had fallen into unmerited contumely, to set the crooked straight for my neighbor, to mend what was broken, to pour in balm, to heal and to save!

“And, thank God! it has been vouchsafed to me in some degree to keep this vow; and though, later, some whims and a passionate curiosity got mixed up with my zeal, still, never have I lost sight of the great task of which I have spoken, since my father’s death and since my uncle also left me his large fortune.  Then I had done with the Rhetor’s art, and travelled east and west to seek the land where love unites men’s hearts and where hatred is only a disease; but as sure as man is the standard of all things, to this day all my endeavors to find it have been in vain.  Meanwhile I have kept my own house on such a footing that it has become a stronghold of love; in its atmosphere hatred cannot grow, but is nipped in the germ.