And what cannot be said in a hundred words had better never be said at all.
Our historians are guilty of one great error. They speak of prehistoric times, they tell us about the Golden Age of Greece and Rome, they talk nonsense about a supposedly dark period, they compose rhapsodies upon the tenfold glories of our modern era.
If perchance these learned doctors perceive certain characteristics which do not seem to fit into the picture they have so prettily put together, they offer a few humble apologies and mumble something about certain undesirable qualities which are part of our unfortunate and barbaric heritage but which in due course of time will disappear, just as the stage-coach has given way before the railroad engine.
It is all very pretty but it is not true. It may flatter our pride to believe ourselves heir to the ages. It will be better for our spiritual health if we know ourselves for what we are—contemporaries of the folks that lived in caves, neolithic men with cigarettes and Ford cars, cliff-dwellers who reach their homes in an elevator.
For then and only then shall we be able to make a first step toward that goal that still lies hidden beyond the vast mountain ranges of the future.
To speak of Golden Ages and Modern Eras and Progress is sheer waste of time as long as this world is dominated by fear.
To ask for tolerance, as long as intolerance must of need be an integral part of our law of self-preservation, is little short of a crime.
The day will come when tolerance shall be the rule, when intolerance shall be a myth like the slaughter of innocent captives, the burning of widows, the blind worship of a printed page.