8. H. F. Scott-Stokes to Harrod, 7.10.20
My dear Harrod -
belated midnight chit - I am run off my legs but must answer yours. We will confer some time on Sunday week if you will - I don't suppose I'll have a minute before then.
I didn't mean to ask for your paper - I think it would surely be out of order for anyone to see it ahead - but for the book which I despaired of getting here, & was also lazy about getting for myself; however have now ordered & will duly peruse, & more Ibsen if time,
but I feel as if I should never read anything more solid than a Daily Mirror leader again - more's the pity, tho' I love the study of my fellow-men too.
My `conscience' thesis - mon ami, when I say a thing's self-evident to me I only mean that I firmly believe it tho' I've no reason for doing so, thus putting myself out of the reach of contrary argument & at the same time abandoning all attempt to convince my opponent; you could indeed point out that the belief was inconsistent with some other view of mine - if it were - but that's the only line of attack. `Mental strife' - has `the great illusion' been pursuing you again? I think the Hound of Heaven will never leave me in peace, nor perhaps any man who doesn't entrench himself behind massive earthworks of unreason and refuse to investigate new facts and theories as they come before him; but if one's going to do that one might as well have remained in the city of God. We buy our freedom at the cost of unending perplexity, just as modern woman has hers at the cost of fending for herself, and as our fine young democracies have it at the cost of God knows how much misrule; yet worth it after all, I suppose. But I trespass & drivel, & you are busy & so am I; we will talk anon.
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