Page:Yeast. A Problem - Kingsley (1851).djvu/102

interpretations of those who make an idol of that very letter which they dare not take literally, because it makes against their self-willed theories . . . . .

'And so you call me douce and meek? . . . . . You should remember what I once was, Lancelot . . . . . I, at least, have not forgotten. . . I have not forgotten how that very animal nature, on the possession of which you seem to pride yourself, was in me only the parent of remorse. . . I know it too well not to hate and fear it. Why do you reproach me, if I try to abjure it, and cast away the burden which I am too weak to bear? I am weak—Would you have me say that I am strong? Would you have me try to be a Prometheus, while I am longing to be once more an infant on a mother's breast? Let me alone . . . . . I am a weary child, who knows nothing, can do nothing, except lose its way in arguings and reasonings, and 'find no end, in wandering mazes lost.' Will you reproach me, because when I see a soft cradle lying open for me . . . . . with a Virgin Mother's face smiling down all woman's love above it . . . . . I long to crawl into it, and sleep awhile? I want loving, indulgent sympathy . . . . . I want detailed, explicit guidance . . . . . Have you, then, found so much of them in our former creed, that you forbid me to go to seek them elsewhere, in the Church which not only professes them as an organized system, but practises them . . . . as you would find in your first half-hour's talk with one of Her priests . . . . true priests . . . . who know the heart of man, and pity,