Somewhere between this extreme repression of the monk and the license of the sensualist lies the truth.  But just where is the great question; and the desire of one person, who thinks he has discovered the norm, to compel all other men to stop there, has led to war and strife untold.  All law centers around this point—­what shall men be allowed to do?  And so we find statutes to punish “strolling play actors,” “players on fiddles,” “disturbers of the public conscience,” “persons who dance wantonly,” “blasphemers,” and in England there were, in the year 1800, thirty-seven offenses that were legally punishable by death.  What expression is right and what is not, is simply a matter of opinion.  One religious denomination that now exists does not allow singing; instrumental music has been to some a rock of offense, exciting the spirit through the sense of hearing, to improper thoughts—­“through the lascivious pleasing of the lute”; others think dancing wicked, while a few allow pipe-organ music, but draw the line at the violin; while still others use a whole orchestra in their religious service.  Some there be who regard pictures as implements of idolatry; while the Hook-and-Eye Baptists look upon buttons as immoral.

Strange evolutions are often witnessed within the life of one individual.  For instance, Leo Tolstoy, a great and good man, at one time a sensualist, has now turned ascetic; a common evolution in the lives of the saints.  But excellent as this man is, there is yet a grave imperfection in his cosmos which to a degree vitiates the truth he desires to teach:  he leaves the element of beauty out of his formula.  Not caring for harmony as set forth in color, form and sweet sounds, he is quite willing to deny all others these things which minister to their well-being.  There is in most souls a hunger for beauty, just as there is physical hunger.  Beauty speaks to their spirits through the senses; but Tolstoy would have your house barren to the verge of hardship.  My veneration for Count Tolstoy is profound, yet I mention him here to show the grave danger that lies in allowing any man, even one of the wisest of men, to dictate to us what is best.  We ourselves are the better judges.  Most of the frightful cruelties inflicted on men during the past have arisen simply out of a difference of opinion that arose through a difference in temperament.  The question is as alive to-day as it was two thousand years ago—­what expression is best?  That is, what shall we do to be saved?  And concrete absurdity consists in saying that we must all do the same thing.  Whether the race will ever grow to a point where men will be willing to leave the matter of life-expression to the individual is a question; but the millennium will never arrive until men cease trying to compel all other men to live after one pattern.

Most people are anxious to do what is best for themselves and least harmful for others.  The average man now has intelligence enough:  Utopia is not far off, if the self-appointed folk who rule us, and teach us for a consideration, would only be willing to do unto others as they would be done by, that is to say, mind their own business and cease coveting things that belong to other people.  War among nations and strife among individuals is a result of the covetous spirit to possess.