The Mother of God [antikvár]

PROLOGUE Our Untainted Boast We of the human race feel it In our bones, and in our soul, that a belittlement has overtaken us. Our mind clings to the ideal, as to a lost right, that every man or woman should walk the earth a paragon. We cannot get rid of the notion. We instinctively crave that unflawed nobility of person which, in our first parents, commanded the respect of even the beast. Human unsightliness of character or body offends. It depresses. It mocks the original dignity we do not have but feel we should have and cannot help desiring to have. "Every goose would be a swan" and since the goose cannot, the frustration finds a vicarious relief in hero worship. Whenever there comes along in whatever environment one of those rare throwbacks to that lost dignity, though only partially and very imperfectly so, the person is sure of a popular welcome. We have need of such. The vogue of idolizing our celebrities rather shows that we have. The trouble is, they disappoint. The classic assertion, "an Aristotle is but the rubbish of an Adam", has only told the truth. The model physique weakens with age. The beauty queen outgrows her charm. The saint, eminently noble in character, still has faults. There remains a crying need for a superior to these, a paragon of absolute perfection. IX