of thought into a key that shall open, not the ivory gate of our dreams, but the very door of this our dwelling—­into a cup that shall hold, not only the wondrous water of dreams, but the living water that falls, drop by drop, on our roof—­into scales, not content vaguely to balance schemes for the future, but that record, with unerring accuracy, what we have done to-day.  The very loftiest ideal has taken no root within us, so long as it penetrate not every limb, so long as it palpitate not at our finger-tip.  Some there are whose intellect profits by this return to self; with others, the character gains.  The first have clearest vision for all that concerns not themselves, that calls them not to action; but it is above all when stern reality confronts them, and time for action has come, that the eyes of the others glow bright.  One might almost believe in there being an intellectual consciousness, languidly resting for ever upon an immovable throne, whence she issues commands to the will through faithless or indolent envoys, and a moral consciousness, incessantly stirring, afoot, at all times ready to march.  It may be that this latter consciousness depends on the former—­indeed who shall say that she is not the former, wearied from long repose, wherein she has learned all that was to be learned; that has at last determined to rise, to descend the steps of inactivity and sally forth into life?  And all will be well, if only she have not tarried so long that her limbs refuse their office.  Is it not preferable sometimes to act in opposition to our thoughts than never dare to act in accord with them?  Rarely indeed is the active error irremediable; men and things are quickly on the spot, eager to set it right; but they are helpless before the passive error that has shunned contact with the real.  Let all this, however, by no means be construed into meaning that the intellectual consciousness must be starved, or its growth arrested, for fear lest it outpace the moral consciousness.  We need have no fear; no ideal conceived by man can be too admirable for life to conform with it.  To float the smallest act of justice or love requires a very torrent of desire for good.  For our conduct only to be honest we must have thoughts within us ten times loftier than our conduct.  Even to keep somewhat clear of evil bespeaks enormous craving for good.  Of all the forces in the world there is none melts so quickly away as the thought that has to descend into everyday life; wherefore we must needs be heroic in thought for our deeds to pass muster, or at the least be harmless.

103.  Let us once again, and for the last time, return to obscure destinies.  They teach us that, physical misfortune apart, there is remedy for all; and that to complain of destiny is only to expose our own feebleness of soul.  We are told in the history of Rome how a certain Julius Sabinus, a senator from Gaul, headed a revolt against the Emperor Vespasian, and was duly defeated.  He might have sought refuge