He went on: "And their opponents at least and at last learned something about the reality of life, and its sorrows, which they--their class, I mean--had once known nothing of.

In short, the two combatants, the workman and the gentleman, between them--" "Between them," said I, quickly, "they destroyed commercialism!" "Yes, yes, yes," said he; "that is it.

Nor could it have been destroyed otherwise; except, perhaps, by the whole of society gradually falling into lower depths, till it should at last reach a condition as rude as barbarism, but lacking both the hope and the pleasures of barbarism.
Surely the sharper, shorter remedy was the happiest." "Most surely," said I.
"Yes," said the old man, "the world was being brought to its second birth; how could that take place without a tragedy?
Moreover, think of it.

The spirit of the new days, of our days, was to be delight in the life of the world; intense and overweening love of the very skin and surface of the earth on which man dwells, such as a lover has in the fair flesh of the woman he loves; this, I say, was to be the new spirit of the time.

All other moods save this had been exhausted: the unceasing criticism, the boundless curiosity in the ways and thoughts of man, which was the mood of the ancient Greek, to whom these things were not so much a means, as an end, was gone past recovery; nor had there been really any shadow of it in the so-called science of the nineteenth century, which, as you must know, was in the main an appendage to the commercial system; nay, not seldom an appendage to the police of that system.