The sermon was
nothing to me; I scarcely heard it, but understood that it was
about the Incarnation and the perfection of the plan of
salvation and the unreasonableness of the Higher Criticism and
of all who doubt because they do not understand. I remembered
vaguely that on three successive Sundays in three village
churches in the wilds of Wiltshire I had heard sermons
preached on and against the Higher Criticism. I thought it
would have been better in this case if the priest had chosen
to preach on Stonehenge and had said that he devoutly wished
we were sun-worshippers, like the Persians, as well as
Christians; also that we were Buddhists, and worshippers of
our dead ancestors like the Chinese, and that we were pagans
and idolaters who bow down to sticks and stones, if all these
added cults would serve to make us more reverent. And I wish
he could have said that it was as irreligious to go to
Stonehenge, that ancient temple which man raised to the
unknown god thousands of years ago, to indulge in noise and
horseplay at the hour of sunrise, as it would be to go to
Salisbury Cathedral for such a purpose.
Chapter Twenty-Two: The Village and "The Stones"
My experiences at "The Stones" had left me with the idea that
but for the distracting company the hours I spent there would
have been very sweet and precious in spite of the cloud in the
east. Why then, I asked, not go back on another morning, when
I would have the whole place to myself? If a cloud did not
matter much it would matter still less that it was not the day
of the year when the red disc flames on the watcher's sight
directly over that outstanding stone and casts first a shadow
then a ray of light on the altar.
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