THE NEW REPUBLIC ;  OR ,  CULTURE , FAITH , AND PHILOSOPHY IN AN ENGLISH COUNTRY HOUSE .  Πάντα γέλως καὶ πάντα κόνις καὶ πάντα τὸ μηδέν·  πάντα γὰρ ἐξ ἀλόγων ἐστὶ τὰ γινόμενα .  Greek Anthology  IN TWO VOLUMES .  - VOL. I .  SECOND EDITION  London : Chatto and Windus , Piccadilly  1877.  All rights reserved .  [ The NEW REPUBLIC was originally published in BELGRAVIA , but in an incomplete and somewhat fragmentary condition , which gave it the appearance rather of a series of papers than of a single connected work .  It is now , with complete revision , restored to its original form , which differs materially from that which it had for a time to assume .  ]  TO ‘VIOLET FANE’  AUTHORESS OF ‘ANTHONY BABINGTON’ ‘THE QUEEN OF THE FAIRIES’ ETC.  This Book is Inscribed BY HER SINCERE FRIEND THE AUTHOR  BOOK I .  CHAPTER I .  TOWARDS the close of last July , when the London season was fast dying of the dust , Otho Laurence had invited what the Morning Post called ‘a select circle of friends , ’ to spend a quiet Sunday with him at his cool villa by the sea .  This singular retreat was the work of a very singular man , Otho Laurence’s uncle , who had squandered on it an immense fortune , and had designed it as far as possible to embody his own tastes and character .  He was a member of a Tory family of some note , and had near relations in both Houses of Parliament ; but he was himself possessed of a deep though quiet antipathy to the two things generally most cherished by those of his time and order , the ideas of Christianity and Feudalism ; and he studiously kept himself clear of all public life .  Pride of birth , indeed , he had in no small measure ; but it was the pride of a Roman of the Empire rather than of an Englishman ; a pride which , instead of connecting him with prince or people , made him shun the one as a Cæsar , and forget the other as slaves .  All his pleasures were those of a lettered voluptuary , who would , as he himself said , have been more in place under Augustus or the Antonines ; and modern existence , under most of its aspects , he affected to regard as barbarous .  Next to a bishop , the thing he most disliked was a courtier ; next to a courtier , a fox-hunting country gentleman .  But nothing in his life , perhaps , was so characteristic of him as his leaving of it .  During his last hours he was soothed by a pretty and somewhat educated housemaid , whom he called Phyllis , and whom he made sit by his bedside , and read aloud to him Gibbon’s two chapters on Christianity .  Phyllis had just come to the celebrated excerpt from Tertullian , in which that father contemplates the future torments of the unbelievers , when the parish clergyman , who had been sent for by Mr. Laurence’s widowed sister-in-law , arrived to offer his services .  ‘How shall I admire’ — these were the words that , read in a low sweet tone , first greeted his ears when he was shown softly into the sick chamber — ‘ how shall I admire , how laugh , how rejoice , how exult , when I behold so many proud monarchs , so many fancied gods , groaning in the lowest abyss of darkness ; so many magistrates who persecuted the name of the Lord , liquefying in a fiercer fire than ever they kindled against the Christians !  ’ The clergyman was at first much reassured at hearing words so edifying ; but when he turned to old Mr. Laurence , he was dismayed to see on his pale face , no signs of awe , but only a faint smile , full of sarcastic humour .  He therefore glanced at the book that was lying on the girl’s lap , and discovered to his horror the work of the infidel historian .  He was at first struck dumb ; but , soon recovering himself , began to say something suitable at once to his own profession and to the sick man’s needs .  Mr. Laurence answered him with the greatest courtesy , but with many thanks declined any assistance from him ; saying wistfully that he knew he had not long to live , and that his one wish was that he could open his veins in a bath , and so fade gently into death ; ‘and then , ’ he added , ‘my soul , if I have one , might perhaps be with Petronius , and with Seneca .  And yet sleep would , I think , be better than even their company.’ The poor clergyman bade a hasty adieu , and Phyllis resumed her reading .  Mr. Laurence listened to every word : the smile returned to his lips that had for a moment left them , and was still upon them when , half-an-hour afterwards , he died , so quietly that Phyllis did not perceive it , but continued her reading for some time to ears that could hear nothing .  All his property he left to his nephew Otho , including his splendid villa , which was indeed , as it was meant to be , a type of its builder .  It was a house of pillars , porticoes , and statues , designed ambitiously in what was meant to be a classical style ; and though its splendours might not be all perhaps in the best taste , nor even of the most strictly Roman pattern , there was yet an air about its meretricious stateliness by which the clays of the Empire were at once suggested to one , a magnificence that : would at any rate have pleased Trimalcio , though it might have scandalised Horace .   Otho Laurence inherited with his uncle’s house something of the tastes and feelings of which it was the embodiment .  But , though an epicure by training and by temper , he had been open to other influences as well .  At one time of his life he had , as it is expressed by some , experienced religion ; and not religion only , but thought and speculation also .  Indeed , ever since he was twenty-four , he had been troubled by a painful sense that he ought to have some mission in life .  The only difficulty was that he could find none that would suit him .  He had considerable natural powers , and was in many ways a remarkable man ; but , unhappily , one of those who are remarkable because they do not become famous , not because they do .  He was one of those of whom it is said till they are thirty , that they will do something ; till they are thirty-five , that they might do something if they chose ; and after that , that they might have done anything if they had chosen .  Laurence was as yet only three years gone in the second stage , but such of his friends as were ambitious for him feared that three years more would find him landed in the third .  He , too , was beginning to share this fear ; and , not being humble enough to despair of himself , was by this time taking to despair of his century .  He was thus hardly a happy man ; but , like many unhappy men , he was capable of keen enjoyments .  Chief amongst these was society in certain forms , especially a party in his own house , such as that which he had now assembled there .  To this one in particular he looked forward with more than usual pleasure , partly because of the peculiar elements which he had contrived to combine in it , but chiefly because amongst them was to be his friend Robert Leslie , who had been living abroad , and whom he had not seen for two years .  Laurence’s aunt , Lady Grace , helped to receive the guests , who by dinner-time on Saturday evening had all arrived .  Robert Leslie was the last .  The dressing-bell had just done ringing as he drove up to the door , and the others had already gone upstairs ; but he found Laurence in the library , sitting with his head on his hand , and a pile of menu -cards on the desk before him .  The two friends met with much warmth , and then examined each other’s faces to see if either had changed .  ‘You told me you had been ill , ’ said Laurence , having again looked at Leslie , ‘and I am afraid you don’t seem quite well yet.’  ‘You forget , ’ said Leslie , whose laugh was a little hollow , ‘that I was on the sea six hours ago ; and , as you know , I am a wretched sailor .  But the worst of human maladies are the most transient also — love , that is half despairing , and sea-sickness that is quite so.’  ‘I congratulate you , ’ said Laurence , again examining his friend’s face , ‘on your true cynical manner .  I often thought we might have masters in cynicism just as we have masters in singing .  Perhaps I shall be able to learn the art from you.’  ‘Oh !  ’ said Leslie , ‘the theory is simple enough .  Find out , by a little suffering , what are the things you hold most sacred , and most firmly believe in , and , whenever an occasion offers , deny your faith .  A cynic is a kind of inverted confessor , perpetually making enemies for the sake of what he knows to be false.’  ‘Ah !  ’ said Laurence , ‘but I don’t want theory .  I know what is sacred just as well as you , and , when I am beast enough to be quite out of tune with it , I have the good sense to call it a phantom .  But I don’t do this with sufficient energy .  It is skill in cynical practice I want — a lesson in the pungent manner — the bitter tone — ’  ‘Then please not to take your lessons from me , ’ said Leslie .  ‘Imitation may be the sincerest flattery , but it is , of all , the most irritating : and a cynic , as you are good enough to call me , feels this especially .  For a cynic is the one preacher , remember , that never wants to make converts .  His aim is to outrage , not to convince : to create enemies , not to conquer them .  The peculiar charm that his creed has for him , is his own peculiarity in holding it .  He is an acid that can only fizz with an alkali , and he therefore hates in others what he most admires in himself .  So if you hear me say a bitter thing , please be good enough to brim over immediately with the milk of human kindness .  If I say anything disrespectful about friendship , please be good enough to look hurt ; and if I happen to say — what is the chief part of the cynic’s stock-in-trade — that no woman was ever sincere or faithful , I trust you have some lady amongst your visitors who will look at me with mournful eyes , and say to me , “ Ah , if you did but know !  ” ’  ‘Well , ’ said Laurence , ‘perhaps I have ; but , talking of what people are to say , I have something here about which I want you to help me .  You see these cards ; they are all double .  Now that second half is for something quite new , and of my own invention .  The cook has written his part already , so you need not look so alarmed ; but he has only provided for the tongue as a tasting instrument ; I am going to provide for it as a talking one .  In fact , I am going to have a menu for the conversation , and to this I shall make everyone strictly adhere .  For it has always seemed absurd to me to be so careful about what we put into our mouths , and to leave chance to arrange what comes out of them ; to be so particular as to the order of what we eat , and to have no order at all in what we talk about .  This is the case especially in parties like the present , where most of the people know each other only a little , and if left to themselves would never touch on the topics that would make them best acquainted , and best bring out their several personal flavours .  That is what I like to see conversation doing .  I ought to have written these menus before ; but I have been busy all day , and , besides , I wanted you to help me .  I was just beginning without you when you arrived , as I could wait no longer ; but I have put down nothing yet : indeed I could not fix upon the first topic that is to correspond with the soup — the first vernal breath of discussion that is to open the buds of the shy and strange souls .  So come , now — what shall we begin with ?  What we want is something that anyone can talk easily about , whether he knows anything of it or not — something , too , that may be treated in any way , either with laughter , feeling , or even a little touch of temper.’  ‘Love , ’ suggested Leslie .  ‘That is too strong to begin with , ’ said Laurence , ‘and too real .  Besides , introduced in that way , it would be , I think , rather common and vulgar .  No — the only thing that suggested itself to me was religion.’  ‘Nothing could be better in some ways , ’ said Leslie ; ‘but might not that , too , be rather strong meat for some ?  I apprehend , like Bottom , that “ the ladies might be afeared of the lion .  ” I should suggest rather the question , “ Are you High-church or Low-church ?  ” There is something in that which at once disarms reverence , and may also just titillate the interests , the temper , or the sense of humour .  Quick , ’ he said , taking one of the cards , ‘and let us begin to write.’  ‘Stop , ’ said Laurence ; ‘not so fast , let me beg of you .  Instead of religion , or anything connected with it , we will have , “ What is the Aim of Life ?  ” Is not this the thing of things to suit us ?  About what do we know less or talk more ?  There is a Sphinx in each of our souls that is always asking us this riddle ; and when we are lazy or disappointed , we all of us lounge up to her , and make languid guesses .  So about this we shall all of us have plenty to say , and can say it in any way we like , flippant , serious , or sentimental .  Think , too , how many avenues of thought and feeling it opens up !  Evidently the “ Aim of Life ” is the thing to begin with.’  Leslie assented ; and before many minutes they had made the menu complete .  The ‘Aim of Life’ was to be followed by ‘Town and Country , ’ which was designed to introduce a discussion as to where the Aim of Life was to be best attained .  After this , by an easy transition , came ‘Society ; ’ next by way of entreés , ‘Art and Literature , ’ ‘Love and Money , ’ ‘Riches and Civilisation ; ’ then ‘The Present , ’ as something solid and satisfying ; and lastly , a light superfluity to dally with , brightly coloured and unsubstantial , with the entremets came ‘The Future.’  ‘And who is here , ’ said Leslie , as they were ending their labours , ‘to enjoy this feast of reason ?  ’  ‘I will tell you , ’ said Laurence .  ‘In the first place , there is Lady Ambrose , a woman of a very old but poor family , who has married a modern M.P. with more than a million of money .  She is very particular about knowing the right people , and has lovely , large grey eyes .  Then there is Miss Merton , a Roman Catholic young lady , the daughter of old Sir Ascot Merton , the horse-racing evangelical .  I knew her well five years ago , but had not seen her since her conversion , till to-day .  Then we have Dr. Jenkinson , the great Broad-church divine who thinks that Christianity is not dead , but changed by himself and his followers in the twinkling of an eye.’  ‘I met Dr. Jenkinson , ’ said Leslie , ‘just before I went abroad , at a great dinner given by Baron Isaacs , in honour of his horse having won the Derby .  Well — and who else is there ?  ’  ‘Two celebrated members of the Royal Society , ’ said Laurence ; ‘no less persons than — But , good gracious !  it is time we were up-stairs dressing .  Come along directly , and I will explain the other people to you before dinner.’  BOOK I .  CHAPTER II .  IT was half-past eight , and the party were fast assembling in the twilight drawing-room .  Leslie was lounging in one of the windows , by a large stand of flowers and broad-leaved plants , and was studying the company with considerable interest .  His first impression was of little more than of a number of men’s dark coats and white shirt-fronts , tables , couches , and gilded chairs , and the pleasant many-coloured glimmerings of female apparel .  But before long he had observed more minutely .  There were men who he instinctively felt were celebrities , discoursing to groups of ladies ; there were ladies who he at once saw were attractive , being discoursed to by groups of men .  He very soon detected Lady Ambrose , a fine handsome woman of perhaps thirty , with the large grey eyes of which Laurence had spoken , and a very clear complexion .  Leslie was much prepossessed by her frank manner , and by her charming voice , as she was talking with some animation to a tall distinguished-looking young man , whose fine features , keen earnest glance , and thoughtful expression prepossessed him still more .  Forming a third in this group , dropping in a word or two at intervals , he recognised the celebrated Dr. Jenkinson — still full of vigour , though his hair was silver — the sharp and restless sparkle of whose eyes , strangely joined with the most benevolent of smiles , Leslie remembered to have noticed at Baron Isaacs’ festival .  He had just identified Lady Ambrose and the Doctor , when Laurence came up to him in the window , and began to tell him who was who .  ‘Dr .  Jenkinson is the only one I know , ’ said Leslie , ‘and , naturally enough , he forgets me.’  ‘Well , ’ said Laurence , ‘that man by himself , turning over the books on the table — the man with the black whiskers , spectacles , and bushy eyebrows — is Mr. Storks of the Royal Society , who is great on the physical basis of life and the imaginative basis of God .  The man with long locks in the window , explaining a microscope in so eager a way to that dark-haired girl , is Professor Stockton — of the Royal Society also ; and member and president of many Societies more .  The girl — child , rather , I ought to call her — that he is talking to , is Lady Violet Gresham — my second cousin .  You see my aunt , the old lady with grey curls , on the ottoman near the fire-place ?  Well — the supercilious-looking man , talking rather loudly and rather slowly to her about the dust in London , is Mr. Luke , the great critic and apostle of culture .  That , too , is another critic close by him — the pale creature , with large moustache , looking out of the window at the sunset .  He is Mr. Rose , the pre-Raphaelite .  He always speaks in an undertone , and his two topics are self-indulgence and art .  The young man there with Lady Ambrose and Dr. Jenkinson , is Lord Allen .  He is only two- or three-and-twenty ; still , had you been in England lately , you would often have heard his name .  He has come early into an immense property , and he yet is conscious that he has duties in life .  But , ’ said Laurence , sighing , ‘he too feels , as I do , that he has fallen on evil days , in which there can be no peace for us — little but doubt and confusion , and what seems to me a losing battle against the spiritual darkness of this world .  However — that redheaded youth thinks very differently .  He is Mr. Saunders from Oxford , supposed to be very clever and advanced .  Next him is Donald Gordon , who has deserted deer-stalking and the Kirk , for literature and German metaphysics.’  ‘And who is that , ’ said Leslie , ’ the young lady with those large and rather sad-looking eyes , and the delicate , proud mouth ?  ’  ‘Which ?  ’ said Laurence .  ‘The one on the sofa , ’ said Leslie , ‘who looks so like a Reynolds portrait — like a duchess of the last century — the lady in the pale blue dress , talking to that man with such a curiously attractive smile and the worn melancholy look ?  ’  ‘That , ’ said Laurence , ‘is Miss Merton .  I am glad you admire her .  And don’t you know who it is she is talking to ?  He is almost the only man of these days for whom I feel a real reverence — almost the only one of our teachers who seems to me to speak with the least breath of inspiration .  But he is too impressionable , perhaps — too much like me , in that way .  And now , as the years come , it seems that hope is more and more leaving him , and things look darker to him than ever .  That is Herbert.’  ‘Herbert !  ’ exclaimed Leslie , ‘so it is .  I thought I recollected the face .  I have heard him lecture several times at the Royal Institution ; and that singular voice of his , which would often hold all the theatre breathless , haunts me still , sometimes .  There was something strange and aërial in its exquisite modulations , that seemed as if it came from a disconsolate spirit , hovering over the waters of Babylon , and remembering Sion .  I can’t tell exactly why it was that — but , ah !  — my dear Laurence — who is this , that is coming into the room now — this lovely creature , with a dress like a red azalea ?  What speaking eyes !  And what hair , too — deep dead black , with those white starry blossoms in it .  I don’t think I ever saw anyone move so gracefully ; and how proudly and piquantly she poises On her neck the small head buoyant , like a bell-flower on its bed ! ’  ‘That , ’ said Laurence , when Leslie had done , ‘is Mrs. Sinclair , who has published a volume of poems , and is a sort of fashionable London Sappho .  But come , — we shall be going into dinner directly .  You shall have Lady Ambrose on one side of you , and shall take in Miss Merton.’  BOOK I .  CHAPTER III .  LAURENCE , though he had forewarned his guests of his menu before they left the drawing-room , yet felt a little anxious when they sat down to dinner ; for he found it not altogether easy to get the conversation started .  Lady Ambrose , who was the first to speak , began somewhat off the point .  ‘What a charming change it is , Mr. Laurence , ’ she said , ‘to look out on the sea when one is dressing , instead of across South Audley Street !  ’  ‘Hush !  ’ said Laurence softly , with a grave , reproving smile .  ‘Really , ’ said Lady Ambrose , ‘I beg your pardon .  I thought Dr. Jenkinson had said grace.’  ‘If he has , ’ said Laurence , ‘it is very good of him , for I am afraid he was not asked .  But what I mean is , that you must only talk of what is on the cards ; so be good enough to look at your menu , and devote your attention to the Aim of Life.’  ‘Really , this is much too alarming , ’ said Lady Ambrose .  ‘How is one to talk at so short a notice on a subject one has never thought about before ?  ’  ‘Why , to do so , ’ said Laurence , ‘is the very art of conversation ; for in that way , one’s ideas spring up fresh like young roses that have all the dew on them , instead of having been kept drying for half a lifetime between the leaves of a book .  So do set a good example , and begin , or else we shall never be started at all ; and my pet plan will turn out a fiasco.’  There was , indeed , as Laurence said this , something very near complete silence all round the table .  It was soon broken .  ‘Are you High-church or Low-church ?  ’ was a question suddenly uttered in a quick eager girl’s voice by Miss Prattle , a young lady of eighteen , to the astonishment of the whole company .  It was addressed to Dr. Jenkinson who was sitting next her .  Had a pin been run into the Doctor’s leg , he could not have looked more astounded , or given a greater start .  He eyed his fair questioner for some time in complete silence .  ‘Can you tell me the difference ?  ’ he said at last , in a voice of considerable good humour , yet with just a touch of sharpness in it .  ‘I think , ’ said Miss Merton , who was sitting on the other side of him , ‘that my card is a little different .  I have the “ Aim of Life ” on mine , and so I believe has everybody else.’  ‘Well , ’ said the Doctor , laughing , ‘let us ask Miss Prattle what is her aim in life.’  ‘Thank Heaven , ’ said Laurence , ‘Dr .  Jenkinson has begun .  I hope we shall all now follow.’  Laurence’s hope was not in vain .  The conversation soon sprang up everywhere ; and the company , though in various humours , took most of them very kindly to the solemn topic that had been put before them .  Mr. Luke , who was sitting by Mrs. Sinclair , was heard in a loudish voice saying that his own favourite Muse had always been Erato ; Mr. Rose had taken a crimson flower from a vase on the table , and , looking at it himself with a grave regard , was pointing out its infinite and passionate beauties to the lady next him ; and Mr. Stockton was explaining that the Alps looked grander , and the sky bluer than ever , to those who truly realised the atomic theory .  No one , indeed , was silent except Mr. Herbert and Mr. Storks , the former of whom smiled rather sadly , whilst the latter looked about him with an inquisitorial frown .  Laurence was delighted with the state of things , and surveyed the table with great satisfaction .  Whilst his attention was thus engaged , Lady Ambrose turned to Leslie , and began asking him if he had been in town much this season .  She was taken with his look , and wished to find out if he would really be a nice person to like .  ‘Please , ’ interposed Laurence pleadingly , ‘do try and keep to the point — please , Lady Ambrose.’  ‘I want to find out Mr. Leslie’s aim in life by asking him where he has been , ’ she answered .  ‘I have been in a great many places , ’ said Leslie , ‘but not to pursue any end — only to try and forget that I had no end to pursue.’  ‘This is a very sad state of things , ’ said Lady Ambrose ; ‘I can always find something to do , except when I am quite alone , or in the country when the house is empty .  And even then I can make occupation .  I draw , or read a book , or teach my little boy some lessons .  But come — what do you think is the real aim of life ?  — since that is what I must ask him , is it not , Mr. Laurence ?  ’  ‘Don’t ask me , ’ said Leslie ; ‘I told you I hadn’t a notion ; and I don’t suppose we any of us have.’  ‘That can’t be true , ’ said Lady Ambrose , ‘for just listen how everyone is talking .  I wish we could hear what they are saying .  You might learn something then , perhaps , Mr. Leslie , since you are so very ignorant.’  It happened that , as Lady Ambrose said this , the conversation suddenly flagged , and Laurence took advantage of the lull to ask if any satisfactory conclusions had been come to during the past five minutes , ‘because we up here , ’ he said , ‘are very much in the dark , and want to be enlightened.’  ‘Yes , ’ said Mr. Storks gruffly , ‘has any one found out what is the aim of life ?  ’ As he said this he looked about him defiantly , as though all the others were butterflies , that he could break , if he chose , upon his wheel .  His eye at last lit upon Mr. Saunders , who , considering this a challenge to himself , immediately took up the gauntlet .  The young man spoke with the utmost composure , and , as his voice was high and piercing , everybody could hear him .  ‘The aim of life , ’ he said , adjusting his spectacles , ‘is progress.’  ‘What is progress ?  ’ interrupted Dr. Jenkinson coldly , without looking at Mr. Saunders , and as though any answer to his question was the last thing he expected .  ‘Progress , ’ replied Mr. Saunders slowly , ‘has been found , like poetry , somewhat hard to define.’  ‘Very true , ’ said the Doctor drily , and looking straight before him .  His accents were of so freezing a sharpness that he seemed to be stabbing Mr. Saunders with an icicle .  Mr. Saunders , however , was apparently quite unwounded .  ‘But I , ’ he continued with the utmost complacency , ‘have discovered a definition which will , I think , meet with general acceptance .  There is nothing original in it — it is merely an abstract of the meaning of all our great liberal thinkers — progress is such improvement as can be verified by statistics , just as education is such knowledge as can be tested by examinations .  That , I conceive , is a very adequate definition of the most advanced conception of progress , and to persuade people in general to accept this is at present one of the chief duties of all earnest men.’  ‘Entirely true !  ’ said Mr. Herbert , with ironical emphasis ; ‘an entirely true definition of progress as our age prizes it.’  Mr. Saunders was delighted , and , imagining he had made a disciple , he turned to Mr. Herbert and went on .  ‘For just let us , ’ he said , ‘compare a man with a gorilla , and see in what the man’s superiority lies .  It is evidently not in the man’s ideas of God , and so forth — for in his presumable freedom from these the gorilla is the superior of the man — but in the hard and verifiable fact , that the man can build houses and cotton-mills , whereas the highest monkey can scarcely make the rudest approach to a hut.’  ‘But can you tell me , ’ said Mr. Herbert , ‘supposing men some day come to a state in which no more of this progress is possible , what will they do then ?  ’  ‘Mr .  Mill , whom in almost all things I reverence as a supreme authority , ’ said Mr. Saunders , ‘asked himself that very question .  But the answer he gave himself was one of the few things in which I venture to dissent from him .  For , when all the greater evils of life shall have been removed , he thinks the human race is to find its chief enjoyment in reading Wordsworth’s poetry.’  ‘Indeed !  ’ said Mr. Herbert ; ‘and did Mill come to any conclusion so sane as that ?  ’  ‘I , on the contrary , believe , ’ Mr. Saunders went on , ‘that as long as the human race lasts , it will still have some belief in God left in it , and that the eradication of this will afford an unending employment to all enlightened minds.’  Leslie looked at Lady Ambrose , expecting to see her smile .  On the contrary she was very grave , and said , ‘I think this is shocking.’  ‘Well , ’ said Laurence in a soothing tone to her , ‘it is only the way of these young men in times of change like ours .  Besides , he is very young — he has only just left Oxford — ’  ‘If these irreligious views are to be picked up at Oxford , ’ said Lady Ambrose , ‘I shall be obliged to send my little boy , when he grows up , to Cambridge .  And as for what you say about “ times of change ” — I am not a conservative , as you know — indeed , I quite go in for reform , as my husband does : but I don’t think religion ought to be dragged into the matter.’  ‘Well , ’ said Laurence , ‘let us listen to what Lord Allen is saying.’  ‘ He is sure , ’ said Lady Ambrose , ‘not to say anything but what is nice.’  Allen was speaking in a low tone , but his voice was so clear that Lady Ambrose was quite able to hear him .  ‘To me it seems , ’ he was saying , blushing a little as he found suddenly how many people were listening to him , ‘that the aim of life has nearly always been plain enough in a certain way — always , and for all men — ’  ‘Indeed ?  ’ said Mr. Saunders , raising his eyebrows .  ‘Yes , ’ said Allen , slightly turning towards him , and raising his voice somewhat .  ‘It has been , I think , as a single magnet , acting on all , though upon many by repulsion .  It is quite indescribable in words .  But there are two things by which you can tell a man’s truth to it — a faith in God .  and a longing for a future life.’  ‘Lord Allen , ’ exclaimed Mr. Herbert , and the sound of his voice made everyone at once a listener , ‘that is very beautifully put !  And it is , indeed , quite true , as you say , that the real significance of life must be for ever indescribable in words .  But , in the present day , I fear also that for most of us it is not even thinkable in thought .  The whole human race , ’ he went on in measured melancholy accents , ‘is now wandering in an accursed wilderness , which not only shows us no hilltop whence the promised land may be seen , but which , to most of the wanderers , seems a promised land itself .  And they have a God of their own too , who engages now to lead them out of it if they will only follow him : who , for visible token of his Godhead , leads them with a pillar of cloud by day , and a pillar of fire by night — the cloud being the black smoke of their factory chimneys , and the fire the red glare of their blast-furnaces .  And so effectual are these modern divine guides , that if we were standing on the brink of Jordan itself , we should be utterly unable to catch , through the fire and the smoke , one single glimpse of the sunlit hills beyond.’  Mr. Herbert said these last words almost fiercely ; and they were followed by a complete hush .  It was almost directly broken by Mr. Rose .  ‘To me , ’ he said , raising his eyebrows wearily , and sending his words floating down the table in a languid monotone , ‘Mr .  Herbert’s whole metaphor seems misleading .  I rather look upon life as a chamber , which we decorate as we would decorate the chamber of the woman or the youth that we love , tinting the walls of it with symphonies of subdued colour , and filling it with works of fair form , and with flowers , and with strange scents , and with instruments of music .  And this can be done now as well — better , rather — than at any former time : since we know that so many of the old aims were false , and so cease to be distracted by them .  We have learned the weariness of creeds ; and know that for us the grave has no secrets .  We have learned that the aim of life is life ; and what does successful life consist in ?  Simply , ’ said Mr. Rose , speaking very slowly , and with a soft solemnity , ‘in the consciousness of exquisite living — in the making our own each highest thrill of joy that the moment offers us — be it some touch of colour on the sea or on the mountains , the early dew in the crimson shadows of a rose , the shining of a woman’s limbs in clear water , or — ’  Here unfortunately a sound of ‘’Sh’ broke softly from several mouths .  Mr. Rose was slightly disconcerted , and a pause that would have been a little awkward seemed imminent .  Laurence , to prevent this , did the first thing that occurred to him , and hastily asked Dr. Jenkinson what his view of the matter was .  The Doctor’s answer came in his very sharpest voice .  ‘Do any of us know what life is ?  ’ he said .  ‘Hadn’t we better find that out first ?  ’  ‘Life , ’ continued Mr. Rose , who had now recovered himself , ‘is a series of moments and emotions.’  ‘And a series of absurdities too , very often , ’ said Dr. Jenkinson .  ‘Life is a solemn mystery , ’ said Mr. Storks , severely .  ‘Life is a damned nuisance , ’ muttered Leslie to himself , but just loud enough to be heard by Lady Ambrose , who smiled at him with a sense of humour that won his heart at once .  ‘Life is matter , ’ Mr. Storks went on , ‘which , under certain conditions not yet fully understood , has become self-conscious.’  ‘Lord Allen has just been saying that it is the preface to eternity , ’ said Mr. Saunders .  ‘Only , unfortunately , ’ said Laurence , ‘it is a preface that we cannot skip , and the dedication is generally made to the wrong person.’  ‘All our doubts on this matter , ’ said Mr. Saunders , ‘are simply due to that dense pestiferous fog of crazed sentiment that still hides our view , but which the present generation has sternly set its face to dispel and conquer .  Science will drain the marshy grounds of the human mind , so that the deadly malaria of Christianity , which has already destroyed two civilisations , shall never be fatal to a third.’  ‘I should rather have thought , ’ said Mrs. Sinclair , in her soft clear voice , and casting down her eyes thoughtfully , ‘that passion and feeling were the real heart of the matter : and that religion of some sort was an ingredient in all perfect passion .  There are seeds of feeling in every soul , but these will never rise up into flowers without some culture — will they , Mr. Luke ?  And this culture is , surely , ’ she said dreamily , ‘the work of Love who is the gardener of the soul , and of Religion , the under-gardener , acting as Love bids it.’  ‘Ah , yes !  ’ said Mr. Luke , looking compassionately about him .  ‘Culture !  Mrs. Sinclair is quite right ; for without culture we can never understand Christianity , and Christianity , whatever the vulgar may say of it , is the key to life , and is co-extensive with it.’  Lady Ambrose was charmed with this sentiment .  ‘Quite so , Mr. Luke , I quite agree with you , ’ she said , in her most cordial manner .  ‘But I wish you would tell me a little more about Culture .  I am always so much interested in those things.’  ‘Culture , ’ said Mr. Luke , ‘is the union of two things — fastidious taste and liberal sympathy .  These can only be gained by wide reading guided by sweet reason ; and when they are gained , Lady Ambrose , we are conscious , as it were , of a new sense , which at once enables us to discern the Eternal and the absolutely righteous , wherever we find it , whether in an epistle of St. Paul’s or in a comedy of Menander’s .  It is true that culture sets aside the larger part of the New Testament as grotesque , barbarous , and immoral ; but what remains , purged of its apparent meaning , it discerns to be a treasure beyond all price .  And in Christianity — such Christianity , I mean , as true taste can accept — culture sees the guide to the real significance of life , and the explanation , ’ Mr. Luke added with a sigh , ‘of that melancholy which in our day is attendant upon all clear sight.’  ‘But why , ’ said Allen , ‘if you know so well what life’s meaning is , need you feel this melancholy at all ?  ’  ‘Ah !  ’ said Mr. Luke , ‘it is from this very knowledge that the melancholy I speak of springs .  We — the cultured — we indeed see .  But the world at large does not .  It will not listen to us .  It thinks we are talking nonsense .  Surely that is enough to sadden us .  Then , too , our ears are perpetually being pained and deafened by the din of the two opposing Philistinisms — science and orthodoxy — both equally vulgar , and equally useless .  But the masses cannot see this .  It is impossible to persuade some that science can teach them nothing worth knowing , and others that the dogmatic utterances of the gospels are either ignorant mistakes or oriental metaphors .  Don’t you find this , Jenkinson ?  ’ he added , addressing the Doctor across the table in a loud mournful voice .  ‘Laurence , ’ said the Doctor , apparently not hearing the question , ‘haven’t we talked of this quite long enough ?  Town and Country — let us go on to that ; or else we shall be getting very much behind-hand.’  These words of the Doctor’s caused a rapid change in the conversation .  And as it appeared impossible to agree as to what the aim of life was , most turned eagerly to the simpler question of where it might be best attained .  At first there seemed to be a general sense on all sides that it was a duty to prefer the country .  There , the voices of Nature spoke to the soul more freely , the air was purer and fresher ; the things in life that were really valuable were more readily taken at their true worth ; foolish vanities and trivial cares were less likely to degrade the character ; one could have flowers ; one could listen to the music of birds and rivers ; a country house was more comfortable than a town one ; and few prospects were so charming as an English park .  But the voice of Mr. Saunders was soon heard proclaiming that progress was almost entirely confined to towns , and that the modern liberal could find little scope for action in the country .  ‘If he does anything there , ’ Mr. Saunders said , ‘he can only make his tenants more comfortable and contented ; and that is simply attaching them more to the existing order of things .  Indeed , even now , as matters stand , the healthy rustic , with his fresh complexion and honest eye , is absolutely incapable of appreciating the tyranny of religion and society .  But the true liberal is undeceived by his pleasing exterior , and sees a far nobler creature in the pale narrow-chested operative of the city , who at once responds to the faintest cry of insurgence.’  Slight causes often produce large results ; and these utterances of Mr. Saunders turned the entire torrent of opinion into a different channel .  Mr. Luke , who had a moment before been talking about ‘liberal air , ’ and ‘sedged brooks , ’ and ‘meadow grass , ’ now admitted that one’s country neighbours were sure to be narrow-minded sectarians , and that it was better to live amongst cultured society , even under a London fog , than to look at all the splendour of provincial sunsets , in company with a parson who could talk of nothing but his parishioners and justification by faith .  Others , too , followed in the same direction ; and the verdict of the majority soon seemed to be that , except in a large country house , country life , though it might be very beautiful , was still very tiresome .  But the voice of Mr. Saunders was again heard , during a pause , laying it down that no true liberal could ever care to live in the country now ; and Lady Ambrose , who highly disapproved of him and his views in general , saw here a fitting opportunity for contradicting him , asserting that , though she and her husband were both advanced , liberals , yet the pleasantest part of their year was that spent upon their moor in Scotland .  ‘And then , too , ’ she added , turning to Laurence , ‘I am devoted to our place in Gloucestershire , and I would not miss for anything such things as my new dairy , and my cottages , with the old women in them.’  ‘And yet , ’ said Laurence , smiling , ‘Sir George would never go near the place if it were not for the shooting.’  ‘Indeed he would , ’ said Lady Ambrose , a little indignantly .  ‘He likes the life so much , and is so fond of his gardens , and greenhouses , and — ’  But she was here interrupted by Mr. Herbert , who , mistaking the Sir George Ambrose mentioned for another Baronet of the same name — a gentleman of a very old but impoverished Catholic family — broke in as follows , somewhat to the consternation of Lady Ambrose , whose husband was a great cotton-spinner , of the most uncertain origin .  ‘Sir George , ’ he said , ‘is , as I know well , an entirely honest gentleman of ancient lineage .  He is indeed a perfectly beautiful type of what the English Squire properly ought to be .  For he lives upon his own land , and amongst his own people ; and is a complete and lovely example to them of a life quite simple indeed , but in the highest sense loyal , noble , and orderly .  But what is one amongst so many ?  To most of his own order Sir George Ambrose appears merely as a madman , because he sees that it is altogether a nobler thing for a man to be brave and chivalrous than it is to be fashionable ; and because he looks forward on his dying day to remembering the human souls that he has saved alive , rather than the pheasants that he has shot dead.’  Now , the husband of Lady Ambrose being known to most present for his magnificent new country house , his immense preserves , and his yacht of four hundred tons that never went out of the Solent , there was naturally some wonder excited by Mr. Herbert’s words , since the thought of any other Sir George never came for an instant into anyone’s head .  Lady Ambrose herself was in utter amazement .  She could not tell what to make of it , and she was as near looking confused as she had ever been in her life .  The awkwardness of the situation was felt by many : and to cover it a hum of conversation sprang up , with forced alacrity .  But this did not make matters much better ; for in a very short time Mr. Herbert’s voice was again audible , uttering words of no measured denunciation against the great land-owners of England , ‘who were once , ’ he said , ‘in some true sense a Nobility , but are now the portentousest Ignobility that the world ever set eyes upon.’ Everyone felt that this was approaching dangerous ground : nor were they at all reassured when Mr. Herbert , who was , it appeared , quoting from a letter which he had received , he said , that morning from the greatest of modern thinkers , concluded amidst a complete silence with the following passage , ‘Yes , here they come , with coats of the newest fashion , with pedigrees of the newest forging , with their moors in Scotland , with their rivers in Norway , with their game preserves in England , with some thousands of human beings calling them masters , somewhere — they probably forget where — and with the mind of a thinking man , or with the heart of a gentleman , nowhere .  Here they come , our cotton-spinning plutocrats , bringing in luxury , and vulgarity , and damnation !  ’  These last words came like a thunderclap .  Laurence hardly knew where to look .  The result , however , was more satisfactory than could have been expected .  There are some emotions , as we all know , that can be calmed best by tears .  Lady Ambrose did not cry .  She did something better — she laughed .  ‘What would poor Sir George say ?  ’ she whispered to Laurence .  ‘He is fishing in Norway at this very moment .  But do you really think , ’ she went on , being resolved not to shirk the subject , ‘that Society is really as bad as Mr. Herbert says ?  I was looking into the the other day , and I am sure nothing goes on in London now so bad as what he describes.’  ‘Do you know , Lady Ambrose , ’ said Mr. Herbert , who concluded that he had given her much pleasure by his late remarks , ‘I think the state of London at the present day infinitely worse than anything Grammont or his biographer could have dreamt of.’  ‘Quite so , ’ said Mr. Luke ; ‘the bulk of men in our days are just as immoral as they were in Charles the Second’s ; the only difference is that they are incomparably more stupid ; and that , instead of decking their immorality with the jewels of wit , they clumsily try to cover it with the tarpaulin of respectability .  This has not made the immorality any the better ; it has only made respectability the most contemptible word in the English language.’  ‘The fop of Charles’s time , ’ said Leslie , ‘aimed at seeming a wit and a scholar .  The fop of ours aims at being a fool and a dunce.’  ‘Yes , ’ said Mr. Herbert , ‘society was diseased then , it is true , and marks of disease disfigured and scarred its features .  Still , in spite of this , it had some sound life left in it .  But now the entire organism is dissolving and falling asunder .  All the parts are refusing to perform their functions .  How , indeed , could this possibly be otherwise , when the head itself , the aristocracy , the part whose special office is to see and think , has now lost completely both its brains and eyes , and has nothing head-like left it except the mouth ; and that cannot so much as speak .  It can only eat and yawn.’  ‘Society , you see , Mr. Herbert , ’ said Lady Ambrose , who felt bound to say something , ‘is so much larger now than it was.’  ‘Oh , ’ said Laurence , shrugging his shoulders , ‘in that sense , I really think there is almost no society now.’  ‘I don’t see how there can be , ’ said Miss Merton , ‘when what is called society is simply one great scramble after fashion .  And fashion is such a delicate fruit , that it is sure to be spoilt if it is scrambled for.’  ‘I am glad , ’ said Laurence , ‘you don’t abuse fashion as some people do .  I look on it as the complexion of good society , and as the rouge of bad ; and when society gets sickly and loses its complexion , it takes to rouge — as it is doing now ; and the rouge eats into its whole system , and makes its health worse than ever.’  ‘You are the last person , Mr. Laurence , ’ said Lady Ambrose , ‘you who go out so much , that I should have expected to hear talking against society like that.’  ‘Ah !  ’ said Laurence , ‘we cannot escape from our circumstances : I only wish we could .  I go into the best society I can get , but I am not blind to the fact that it is very bad .  Of course there are a number of the most delightful people in it : I am not denying that for a moment .  But not only is society not made up out of a few of its parts , but even the best parts suffer from the tone of the whole .  And taking society as a whole , I honestly doubt if it was ever at any time so generally bad as it is now .  I am not saying that it has forgotten its duties — that it cannot even conceive that it ever had any ; that is of course quite true : but Mr. Herbert has said that already .  I am not complaining of its moral badness , but of its social badness — of its want of practical skill in life as a fine art — a want that it often feels itself , and yet has not the skill to remedy .  Think for a moment how barbarous are its amusements ; how little culture there is in its general tone ; how incapable it is of any enlightened interest !  ’  ‘Really , ’ said Mr. Stockton , ‘I think you are doing society a great injustice .  It seems to me that enlightened interest is the very thing that is everywhere on the spread .  The light of intellect is emerging from the laboratory and the dissecting-room , where it had its birth , and is gilding , with its clear rays , the dinner-table , and even the ball-room .  A freer , a truer , and a grander view of things , seems to me to be rapidly dawning on the world.’  ‘I fear , my dear sir , ’ said Mr. Luke , ‘that these pleasing opinions of yours will not bear testing.’  ‘Do you mean , ’ said Mr. Stockton , ‘that society as a rule is not infinitely better informed now than it was thirty years ago ?  Has it not infinitely fewer prejudices and infinitely more knowledge ?  ’  ‘We should look to the effects of the knowledge , not to the knowledge itself , ’ said Mr. Luke .  ‘We cannot test the health of a society from looking over its examination papers in physical science.’  ‘How would you test it ?  ’ said Mr. Stockton , with a slight curl of the lip .  ‘There are many tests , ’ said Mr. Luke .  ‘Here is one , amongst the very subjects that Mr. Laurence has ordered us to talk about — art and literature.’  ‘I accept the test , ’ said Mr. Stockton .  ‘What , then , can be nobler than much modern poetry ?  There is some that I look upon as quite of the highest order.’  ‘When I spoke of our literature , ’ said Mr. Luke loftily , ‘I was not thinking of poetry .  We have no poetry now.’  ‘Indeed ?  ’ said Mr. Stockton ; ‘I imagined you had written some yourself.’  ‘Ah !  ’ exclaimed Mr. Luke , drawing a long sigh , ‘I once knew what Goethe calls “ the divine worth of tone and tears .  ” But my own poems only prove the truth of what I say .  They could only have been written in evil days .  They were simply a wail of pain ; and now that I am grown braver , I keep silence .  Poetry in some ages is an expression of the best strength ; in an age like ours it is the disguise of the worst weakness — or , when not that , it is simply a forced plant , an exotic .  No , Mr. Stockton , I was not speaking of our poetry , but of the one kind of imaginative literature that is the natural growth of our own day , the novel .  Now , the novel itself is a plant which , when it grows abundantly and alone , you may be sure is a sign of a poor soil .  But don’t trust to that only .  Look at our novels themselves , and see what sort of life it is they image — the trivial interests , the contemptible incidents , the absurdity of the virtuous characters , the viciousness of the characters who are not absurd .  Spain was in some ways worse in Cervantes’ time than England is in ours ; but you may search all our novels for one character that has one tithe of Don Quixote’s heroism , for one of our sane men that breathed in so healthy and pure an atmosphere as the inspired madman .  And this is not from want of ability on the novelist’s part .  Some of them have powers enough and to spare ; but the best novels only reflect back most clearly the social anarchy , and the bad ones are unconscious parts of it.’  ‘And as for our painting , ’ said Mr. Herbert , ‘that reflects , even more clearly than our literature , our hideous and our hopeless degradation .  The other day , when I walked through the Royal Academy , my mind was literally dazzled by the infernal glare of corruption and vulgarity that was flashed upon me from every side .  There were , indeed , only two pictures in the whole collection that were not entirely abominable ; and these were , one of them three boulders in the island of Sark , the other a study of pebbles on the beach at Ilfracombe.’  ‘I know little about the technicalities of art , ’ said Mr. Stockton , ‘so I will not presume to dispute this point with you.’  ‘Well , ’ said Leslie , ‘here is another test quite as good as art and literature — love and money , and their relations in our days.’  He would have continued speaking ; but Mr. Herbert allowed him no time .  ‘The very things , ’ he said , ‘I was about to touch upon — the very things the pictures the other day suggested to me .  For , seeing how the work of the painter becomes essentially vile so soon as it becomes essentially venal , I was reminded of the like corruption of what is far more precious than the work of any painter — our own English girls , who are prepared for the modern marriage-market on precisely the same principles as our pictures for the Royal Academy .  There is but one difference .  The work of the modern painter is vile from its very beginning — in its conception and execution alike ; but our girls we receive , in the first instance , entirely fair and sacred from the hands of God himself , clothed upon with a lovelier vesture than any lilies of the field — ’  ‘Really , ’ whispered Lady Ambrose to Laurence , ‘Providence has done so very little for us , as far as vesture goes.’  ‘ — And we , ’ Mr. Herbert went on , ‘with unspeakable profanity presume to dress and to decorate them , till the heavenly vesture is entirely hidden , thinking , like a modern Simon Magus , that the gifts of God are to be purchased for money , and not caring to perceive that , if they are to be purchased with the devil’s money , we must first convert them into the devil’s gifts.’  ‘Yes , ’ said Mrs. Sinclair , with a faint smile , ‘the day for love-matches is quite gone over now.’  But her words were drowned by Mr. Saunders , who exclaimed at the top of his voice , and in a state of great excitement , ‘Electric telegraphs — railways — steam printing presses — let me beg of you to consider the very next subject set for us — riches and civilisation — and to judge of the present generation by the light of that.’  ‘I have considered them , ’ said Mr. Herbert , ‘for the last thirty years — and with inexpressible melancholy.’  ‘I conceive , ’ said Mr. Saunders , ‘that you are somewhat singular in your feelings.’  ‘I am , ’ replied Mr. Herbert ; ‘and that in most of my opinions and feelings I am singular , is a fact fraught for me with the most ominous significance .  Yet , how could I — who think that health is more than wealth , and who hold it a more important thing to separate right from wrong than to identify men with monkeys — how could I hope to be anything but singular in a generation that deliberately , and with its eyes open , prefers a cotton-mill to a Titian ?  ’  ‘I hold it , ’ said Mr. Saunders , ‘to be one of the great triumphs of our day , that it has so subordinated all the vaguer and more lawless sentiments to the solid guidance of sober economical considerations .  And not only do I consider a cotton-mill , but I consider even a good sewer , to be a far nobler and a far holier thing — for holy in reality does but mean healthy — than the most admired Madonna ever painted.’  ‘A good sewer , ’ said Mr. Herbert , ‘is , I admit , an entirely holy thing ; and would all our manufacturers and men of science bury themselves underground , and confine their attention to making sewers , I , for one , should have little complaint against them.’  ‘And are railways , telegraphs , gas-lamps — is the projected Channel tunnel , nothing in your eyes ?  Is it nothing that all the conditions of life are ameliorated , that mind is daily pursuing farther its conquest over matter ?  ’  ‘Have we much to thank you for , ’ said Mr. Herbert , ‘that you have saved us from an hour of sea-sickness , if in return you give us a whole lifetime of heart-sickness ?  Your mind , my good sir , that you boast of , is so occupied in subduing matter , that it is entirely forgetful of subduing itself — a matter , trust me , that is far more important .  And as for your amelioration of the conditions of life — that is not civilisation which saves a man from the need of exercising any of his powers , but which obliges him to exert his noble powers ; not that which satisfies his lower feelings with the greatest ease , but which provides satisfaction for his higher feelings , no matter at what trouble.’  ‘Other things being equal , ’ said Mr. Saunders , ‘I apprehend that the generation that travels sixty miles an hour is at least five times as civilised as the generation that travels only twelve.’  ‘But the other things are not equal , ’ said Mr. Herbert : ‘and the other things , by which I suppose you mean all that is really sacred in the life of man , have been banished or buried by the very things which we boast of as our civilisation.’  ‘That is our own fault , ’ said Mr. Saunders , ‘not the fault of civilisation.’  ‘Not so , ’ said Mr. Herbert .  ‘Bring up a boy to do nothing for himself — make everything easy for him — to use your own expression , subdue matter for him — and that boy will never be able to subdue anything for himself .  He will be weak in body , and a coward in soul — ’  ‘Precisely , ’ said Mr. Saunders .  ‘And that is really , if you look dispassionately at the matter , a consummation devoutly to be wished .  For why do we need our bodies to be strong ?  — To overcome obstacles .  Why do we need to be brave ?  — To attack enemies .  But by and by , when all our work is done by machinery , and we have no longer any obstacles to overcome , or any hardships to endure , strength will become useless , and bravery dangerous .  And my own hope is that both will have ere long vanished ; and that weakness and cowardice , qualities which we now so irrationally despise , will have vindicated their real value , by turning universal civilisation into universal peace.’  ‘Yes , ’ said Mr. Herbert , ‘that is exactly what the modern world is longing for — a universal peace ; which never can nor will mean anything else than peace with the devil.’  ‘Really , ’ said Lady Ambrose to Leslie , ‘do you think we are in such a bad way as all this ?  Dr. Jenkinson , I must ask you — you always know these things — do you think we are so very bad ?  ’  ‘Yes — yes , ’ said the Doctor , turning towards her with a cheerful smile , ‘there is a great deal that is very bad in our own days — very bad indeed .  Many thoughtful people think that there is more that is bad in the present than there has ever been in the past .  Many thoughtful people in all days have thought the same.’  ‘Whenever wise men , ’ said Herbert , ‘have taken to thinking about their own times , it is quite true that they have always thought ill of them .  But that is because the times must have gone wrong before the wise men take to the business of thinking about them at all .  We are never conscious of our constitutions till they are out of order.’  ‘Ah !  yes , ’ said Mr. Luke ; ‘how true that is , Herbert !  Philosophy may be a golden thing .  But it is the gold of the autumn woods , that soon falls , and leaves the boughs of the nation naked.’  ‘Yes , ’ said Leslie , ‘leaving nothing but Bare ruined choirs , where late the sweet birds sang.’  ‘Thank you , Mr. Leslie , ’ exclaimed Mr. Herbert across the table , ‘thank you — an exquisitely apt quotation.’  ‘Then you , Mr. Leslie , ’ said Lady Ambrose in a disappointed voice , ‘you are one of these desponding people too , are you ?  I never heard anything so dismal in my life.’  ‘I certainly think , ’ said Leslie , ‘that our age in some ways could not possibly be worse .  Nobody knows what to believe , and most people believe nothing .  Don’t you find that ?  ’  ‘Indeed I do not , ’ said Lady Ambrose , with some vigour , ‘and I am very sorry for those who do .  That Mr. Saunders , ’ she added , lowering her voice , ‘is the first person I ever heard express such views .  We were dining only the other day with the Bishop of — — , and I’ll tell you what he said , Mr. Leslie .  He said that the average number of churches built yearly during the last ten years was greater than it had ever been since the Reformation .  That does not look as if religion was on the decline , does it ?  I know the Bishop spoke of a phase of infidelity that was passing over the nation : but that , he said , would soon have drifted by .  Indeed , he told us that all the teachings of modern irreligious science were simply reproductions of — you must not laugh at me if I say the names wrong — Epicurus and Democritus — which had been long ago refuted .  And that was no peculiar crotchet of his own mind ; for a very clever gentleman who was sitting next me said that that was the very thing which all the bishops agreed in saying — almost the only thing indeed in which they did agree.’  ‘Ah !  ’ said Leslie , ‘materialism once came to the world like a small street boy throwing mud at it ; and the indignant world very soon drove it away .  But it has now come back again , dirtier than ever , bringing a big brother with it , and Heaven knows when we shall get rid of it now.’  ‘In every state of transition , ’ said Dr. Jenkinson to Miss Merton , ‘there must always be much uneasiness .  But I don’t think , ’ he said , with a little pleased laugh , ‘that you will find these times really much worse than those that went before them .  No — no. If we look at them soberly , they are really a great deal better .  We have already got rid of a vast amount of superstition and ignorance , and are learning what Christianity really is .  We are learning true reverence — that is , not to dogmatise about subjects of which we cannot possibly know anything.’  ‘Just so , Jenkinson , ’ said Mr. Luke ; ’ that is the very thing I am trying to teach the world myself .  Personal immortality , for instance , which forms no part of the sweet secret of authentic Christianity — ’  ‘Yes — yes , ’ said the Doctor hastily ; ‘the Church had degraded the doctrine .  It needed to be expressed anew.’  ‘Of course , ’ said Miss Merton , ‘I , as a Catholic — ’  ‘Dear !  dear !  ’ exclaimed the Doctor , in some confusion , ‘I beg your pardon .  I had no notion you were a Roman Catholic.’  ‘I was going to say , ’ Miss Merton went on , ‘that , though of course as a Catholic I am not without what I believe to be an infallible guide , I feel just as much as anyone the bad state in which things are now .  It is so difficult to shape one’s course in life .  One has nowhere any work cut out for one .  There is a want of — well — ’ she said , smiling , ‘of what perhaps , when religion has been analysed by science , will be called moral ozone in the air.’  ‘Such a feeling is not unnatural , ’ said the Doctor ; ‘but you will find it vanish if you just resolve cheerfully to go on doing the duty next you — even if this be only to order dinner .  And , ’ he said , turning to her rather abruptly , ‘don’t despond over the times : that only makes them worse .  Besides , they are not really at all bad .  There is no need for desponding at all.’  ‘But there is at least excuse , ’ said Laurence , ‘when we see all the old faiths , the old ideas , under which the world has so long found shelter , fading Like the baseless fabric of a vision , rapidly and for ever away from us.’  ‘I don’t think so , ’ said the Doctor , as if that settled the question .  ‘Christianity , ’ said Mr. Stockton , ‘is only retiring to make way for something better .  Religions are not quickened unless they perish .  Look forward at the growing brightness of the future , not at the faded brightness of the past.’  ‘Why not look at the present ?  ’ said Dr. Jenkinson .  ‘Depend upon it , it is not wise to be above one’s times .  There’s plenty of religion now .  The real power of Christianity is growing every day , even where you least expect it.’  ‘In what part of Christianity , ’ said Leslie , ‘its real power lies , it would be unbecoming in me to profess that I know .  But this I do know , that if you take four out of five of the more thoughtful and instructed men of the day , you will find that not only have they no faith in a personal God or a personal immortality , but the very notions of such things seem to them absurdities.’  ‘Yes , ’ said Mr. Herbert , ‘it was once thought a characteristic of the lowest savages to be without a belief in a future life .  It will soon be thought a characteristic of the lowest savages to be with one.’  ‘Really now — ’ said Mr. Luke , in a voice whose tone seemed to beseech everyone to be sensible , ‘personal immortality and a personal Deity are no doctrines of Christianity .  You , Jenkinson , I know agree with me.’  There was nothing the Doctor so disliked as these appeals from Mr. Luke .  He made in this case no response whatever .  He turned instead to Miss Merton .  ‘You see , ’ he said to her in a very quiet but very judicial way , ‘the age we live in is an age of change .  And in all such ages there must be many things that , if we let them , will pain and puzzle us .  But we mustn’t let them .  There have been many ages of change before our time , and there are sure to be many after it .  Our age is not peculiar.’  Here he paused , as he had a way of doing at times between his sentences .  This practice now , as it had often been before , was of a disservice to him ; for it gave a fatal facility for interruption when he could least have wished it .  In this case Leslie entirely put him out , by attacking the very statement which the Doctor least of all had designed to bear question .  ‘But in some ways , ’ said Leslie , ‘this age is peculiar , surely .  It is peculiar in the extraordinary rapidity of its changes .  Christianity took three hundred years to supplant polytheism ; atheism has hardly taken thirty to supplant Christianity.’ Dr. Jenkinson did not deign to take the least notice of this .  ‘I suppose , ’ said Miss Merton to Leslie , ‘that you think Catholicism quite a thing of the past ?  ’  ‘I’m afraid , ’ said Leslie , ‘that my opinion on that is of very small importance .  But , however that may be , you must admit that in the views of the world at large there have been great changes ; and these , I say , have come on us with so astonishing a quickness that they have plunged us into a state of mental anarchy that has not been equalled since mental order has been known .  There is no recognised rule of life any where .  The old rules only satisfy those who are not capable of feeling the need of any rule at all .  Every one who does right at all only does what is right in his own eyes .  All society , it seems , is going to pieces.’  ‘I , ’ said Mr. Rose , ‘look upon social dissolution as the true condition of the most perfect life .  For the centre of life is the individual , and it is only through dissolution that the individual can re-emerge .  All the warrings of endless doubts , all the questionings of matter and of spirit , which I have myself known , I value only because , remembering the weariness of them , I take a profounder and more exquisite pleasure in the colour of a crocus , the pulsations of a chord of music , or a picture of Sandro Botticelli’s.’  Mr. Rose’s words hardly produced all the effect he could have wished ; for the last part was almost drowned in the general rustle of the ladies rising .  ‘Before we go , Mr. Laurence , ’ said Lady Ambrose , ‘will you be good enough to tell me the history of these salt-cellars ?  I wanted to have asked you at the beginning of dinner , but you made yourself so very appalling then , that I really did not venture.’  ‘Well , ’ said Laurence , ‘no doubt they surprise you .  They were a present made to me the other day by a friend of mine — an eminent man of science , and are models of a peculiar kind of retort he has invented , for burning human bodies , and turning them into gas.’  ‘Good gracious !  ’ said Lady Ambrose , ‘how horrible !  I insist , Mr. Laurence , on your having another set to-morrow night — remember.’  ‘There , ’ said Laurence , when the gentlemen had resettled themselves , and had begun their wine , ‘there is the new version of the skeleton at the banquet-board — the two handfuls of white dust , to which we , the salt of the earth , shall one day crumble .  Let us sacrifice all the bulls we have to Pluto illacrimabilis — let us sacrifice ourselves to one another , or to Heaven — to this favour must we come .  Is not that so , Mr. Storks ?  ’  ‘Laurence , ’ said Dr. Jenkinson briskly , ‘the conversation hasn’t kept pace with the dinner .  We have got no farther than “ The Present ” yet .  The ladies are going to talk of “ The Future ” by themselves .  See — there they are out on the terrace.’  Mr. Storks here drew his chair to the table , and cleared his throat .  ‘It is easier , ’ he said , ‘to talk about the present now we are alone — now they , ’ he nodded his head in the direction of the party outside , ‘are gone out to talk about the future in the moonlight .  There are many things which even yet it does not do to say before women — at least , before all women.’  ‘My aunt , ’ said Laurence , ‘is a great authority on woman’s education and true position ; and she has written an essay to advance the female cause.’  ‘Indeed ?  ’ said Mr. Storks ; ‘I was not aware of that .  I shall look forward with much pleasure to some conversation with her .  But what I was going to say related to the present , which at dinner was on all sides so mercilessly run down .  I was going to claim for the present age , in thought and speculation ( and it is these that give their tone to its entire conduct of life ) , as its noble and peculiar feature , a universal , intrepid , dogged resolve to find out and face the complete truth of things , and to allow no prejudice , however dear to us , to obscure our vision .  This is the only real morality : and not only is it full of blessing for the future , but it is giving us “ manifold more in this present time ” as well .  The work of science , you see , is twofold ; it enlarges the horizon of the mind , and improves the conditions of the body .  If you will pardon my saying so , Mr. Herbert , I think your antipathy to science must be clue to your not having fully appreciated its true work and dignity.’  ‘The work of science is , I know , twofold , ’ said Mr. Herbert , ‘speculative and practical.’  ‘Exactly so , ’ said Mr. Storks approvingly .  ‘And all it can do for us in speculation , ’ said Mr. Herbert , ‘is to teach us that we have no life hereafter : all it can do for us in practice , is to ruin our life here .  It enervates us by providing us with base luxury ; it degrades us by turning our attention to base knowledge.’  ‘No — no , ’ said Dr. Jenkinson , with one of his little laughs , ‘not that .  I don’t think , Mr. Storks , that Mr. Herbert always quite means what he says .  We mustn’t take him at his word.’  ‘My dear sir , ’ said Mr. Herbert , turning to the Doctor , ‘you are a consecrated priest of the mystical Church of Christ’ — Dr. Jenkinson winced terribly at this — ‘and let me ask you if you think it the work of Christ to bring into men’s minds eternal corruption , instead of eternal life — or , rather , not corruption , I should say , but putrefaction .  For what is putrefaction but decomposition ?  And at the touch of science all our noblest ideas decompose and putrefy , till our whole souls are strewn with dead hopes and dead religions , with corpses of all the thoughts we loved Quickening slowly into lower forms . You may call it analysis , but I call it death.’  ‘I wish we could persuade you , ’ said Mr. Stockton , very temperately , ‘to take a fairer view of things .  Surely truth cannot in the long run be anything but life-giving.’  ‘Let us take care of facts , ’ said Mr. Storks , ‘and fictions — I beg your pardon , religion — will take care of itself.’  ‘And religion , ’ said Mr. Stockton , ‘will take care of itself very well .  Of course we don’t waste time now in thinking about personal immortality .  We shall not live ; but the mind of man will ; and religion will live too , being part of the mind of man .  Religion is , indeed , to the inner world what the sky is to the outer .  It is the mind’s canopy — the infinite mental azure in which the mysterious source of our being is at once revealed and hidden .  Let us beware , then , of not considering religion noble ; but let us beware still more of considering it true .  We may fancy that we trace in the clouds shapes of real things ; and , as long as we know that this is only fancy , I know of no holier occupation for the human mind than such cloud-gazing .  But let us always recollect that the cloud which to us may seem shaped like a son of man , may seem to another to be backed like a weasel , and to another to be very like a whale .  What , then , ’ Mr. Stockton added , ‘can be a nobler study than the great book of Nature , or , as we used to call it , the works of God ?  ’  ‘Pray do not think , ’ said Mr. Herbert , ‘that I complain of this generation because it studies Nature .  I complain of it because it does not study her .  Yes , ’ he went on , as he saw Mr. Stockton start , ‘you can analyse her in your test tubes , you can spy at her through your microscopes ; but can you see her with your own eyes , or receive her into your own souls ?  You can tell us what she makes her wonders of , and how she makes them , and how long she takes about it .  But you cannot tell us what these wonders are like when they are made .  When God said , “ Let there be light , and light was , and God saw that it was good , ” was he thinking , as he saw this , of the exact velocity it travelled at , and of the exact laws it travelled by , which you wise men are at such infinite pains to discover ; or was he thinking of something else , which you take no pains to discover at all — of how it clothed the wings of the morning with silver , and the feathers of the evening with gold ?  Is water , think you , a nobler thing to the modern chemist , who can tell you exactly what gases it is made of , and nothing more ; or to Turner , who could not tell you at all what it is made of , but who did know and who could tell you what it is made — what it is made by the sunshine , and the cloud-shadow , and the storm-wind — who knew how it paused in the taintless mountain trout-pool , a living crystal over stones of flickering amber ; and how it broke itself turbid , with its choirs of turbulent thunder , when the rocks card it into foam , and where the tempest sifts it into spray ?  When Pindar called water the best of things , was he thinking of it as the union of oxygen and hydrogen — ’  ‘He would have been much wiser if he had been , ’ interposed Dr. Jenkinson .  ‘Thales , to whose theory , as you know , Pindar was referring — ’ But the Doctor’s words were utterly unavailing to check the torrent of Mr. Herbert’s eloquence .  They only turned it into a slightly different course .  ‘Ah !  masters of modern science , ’ he went on , ‘you can tell us what pure water is made of ; but , thanks to your drains and your mills , you cannot tell us where to find it .  You can , no doubt , explain to us all about sunsets ; but the smoke of your towns and your factories has made it impossible for us to see one .  However , each generation is wise in its own wisdom ; and ours would sooner look at a fœtus in a bottle , than at a statue of the god Apollo , from the hand of Phidias , and in the air of Athens.’  During all this speech Mr. Storks had remained with his face buried in his hands , every now and then drawing in his breath through his teeth , as if he were in pain .  When it was over he looked up with a scared expression , as if he hardly knew where he was , and seemed quite unable to utter a syllable .  ‘Of course , ’ said Mr. Stockton , ‘mere science , as science , does not deal with moral right and wrong.’  ‘No , ’ said Mr. Saunders , ‘for it has shown that right and wrong are terms of a bygone age , connoting altogether false ideas .  Mere automata as science shows we are — clockwork machines , wound up by meat and drink — ’  ‘As for that , ’ broke in Mr. Storks , who had by this time recovered himself — and his weighty voice at once silenced Mr. Saunders , ‘I would advise our young friend not to be too confident .  We may be automata , or we may not .  Science has not yet decided .  And upon my word , ’ he said , striking the table , ‘I don’t myself care which we are .  Supposing the Deity — if there be one — should offer to make me a machine , if I am not one , on condition that I should always go right , I , for one , would gladly close with the proposal.’  ‘But you forget , ’ said Allen , ‘that in the moral sense there would be no going right at all , if there were not also the possibility of going wrong .  If your watch keeps good time you don’t call it virtuous , nor if it keeps bad time do you call it sinful.’  ‘Sin , Lord Allen , ’ said Mr. Storks , ‘is a word that has helped to retard moral and social progress more than anything .  Nothing is good or bad , but thinking makes it so ; and the superstitious and morbid way in which a number of entirely innocent things have been banned as sin , has caused more than half the tragedies of the world .  Science will establish an entirely new basis of morality ; and the sunlight of rational approbation will shine on many a thing , hitherto overshadowed by the curse of a hypothetical God.’  ‘Exactly so , ’ exclaimed Mr. Saunders eagerly .  ‘Now , I’m not at all that sort of man myself , ’ he went on , ‘so don’t think it because I say this.’  Everyone stared at Mr. Saunders in wonder as to what he could mean .  ‘We think it , for instance , ’ he said , ‘a very sad thing when a girl is as we call it ruined .  But it is we really that make all the sadness .  She is ruined only because we think she is so .  And I have little doubt that that higher philosophy of the future that Mr. Storks speaks of will go far , some day , towards solving the great question of women’s sphere of action , by its recognition of prostitution as an honourable and beneficent profession.’  ‘Sir !  ’ exclaimed Mr. Storks , striking the table , and glaring with indignation at Mr. Saunders , ‘I could hardly have believed that such misplaced flippancy — ’  ‘Flippancy !  it is reasoned truth , ’ shrieked Mr. Saunders , upsetting his wine-glass .  Luckily this brought about a pause .  Laurence took advantage of it .  ‘See , ’ he said , ‘Dr .  Jenkinson has left us .  Will no one have any more wine ?  — Then suppose we follow him.’  BOOK I .  CHAPTER IV .  IT was a calm , lovely evening .  The moon was rising over the sea , and the sea was slowly silvering under it .  A soft breeze breathed gently , full of the scents of flowers ; and in the low sky of the west there yet lingered a tender peach-colour .  The ladies were sitting about on chairs , grouped together , but with several little groups within the group ; and amongst them all was Dr. Jenkinson , making himself particularly agreeable to Mrs. Sinclair .  When the gentlemen emerged there was a general stir , and Lady Ambrose , shutting up a volume of St.-Simon’s Memoirs , said , ‘Well , Mr. Laurence , we have been talking most industriously about the future.’  Laurence was standing with Mr. Luke on the step of the dining-room window , and both were looking out gravely on the tranquil scene .  ‘Do you remember , ’ said Laurence , ‘that it was here , three years ago , that you composed the lines that stand last in your published volumes ?  ’  ‘I remember , ’ said Mr. Luke dreamily .  ‘What an evening that was !  ’  ‘I wish you would repeat them , ’ said Laurence .  ‘What is the good ?  ’ said Mr. Luke ; ‘why rouse again the voices that haunt About the mouldered lodges of the past ? ’  ‘Mr .  Luke , ’ said Lady Ambrose appealingly , ‘I do so wish you would.’  ‘Is Mr. Luke going to recite poetry ?  ’ said Mrs. Sinclair , coming languidly up to them .  ‘How delicious !  ’ She was looking lovely in the dim light , with a diamond star shining in her dark hair ; and for a mortal bard there was positively no resisting her appeal .  Mr. Luke , with a silent composure , pressed his hands for a moment against his forehead ; he gave one hem ; and then in a clear melodious voice began as follows : —  ‘Softly the evening descends , Violet and soft . The sea Adds to the silence , below Pleasant and cool on the beach Breaking ; yes , and a breeze Calm as the twilight itself Furtively sighs through the dusk , Listlessly lifting my hair , Fanning my thought-wearied brow . Thus I stand in the gloom Watching the moon-track begin Quivering to die like a dream Over the far sea-line To the unknown region beyond . ‘So for ages hath man Gazed on the ocean of time From the shores of his birth , and , turning His eyes from the quays , the thronged Marts , the noise and the din To the far horizon , hath dreamed Of a timeless country beyond . Vainly : for how should he pass , Being on foot , o’er the wet Ways of the unplumbed waves ? How , without ship , should he pass Over the shipless sea To the timeless country beyond ? ‘Ah , but once — once long ago , Came there a ship white-sailed From the country beyond , with bright Oarsmen , and men that sang ; Came to Humanity’s coasts , Called to the men on the shore , Joyously touched at the port . Then did time-weary man Climb the bulwarks , the deck Eagerly crowding . Anon With jubilant voices raised , And singing , “ When Israel came Out of Egypt ” and whatso else In the psalm is written , they passed Out of the ken of the land , Over the far sea-line , To the unknown region beyond . ‘Where are they now , then — they That were borne out of sight by the ship- Our brothers , of times gone by ? Why have they left us here Solemn , dejected , alone , Gathered in groups on the shore ? Why ? For we , too , have gazed O’er the waste of waters , and watched For a sail as keenly as they . Ah , wretched men that we are ! On our haggard faces and brows Aching , a wild breeze fawns Full of the scents of the sea , Redolent of regions beyond . Why , then , tarries the ship ? When will her white sail rise Like a star on the sea-line ? When ? ‘When ? — And the answer comes From the sailless face of the sea , ” Ah , vain watchers , what boots The calm of the evening ? Have ye not watched through the day Turbulent waves , the expanse Endless , shaken with storm , And ask ye where is the ship ? Deeper than plummet can dive She is bedded deep in the ooze , And over her tall mast floats The purple plain of the calm . ” ‘Yes — and never a ship Since this is sunken , will come Ever again o’er the waves — Nay , not even the craft with the fierce Steersman , him of the marsh Livid , with wheels of flame Circling his eyes , to smite The lingering soul with his oar . — Not that even . But we Drop where we stand one by one On the shingles and sands of time , And cover in taciturn gloom , With only perhaps some tear , Each for his brother the hushed Heart and the limitless dreams  ‘Thank you , Mr. Luke , so much , ’ said Lady Ambrose .  ‘How charming !  I am always so fond of poems about the sea.’  ‘Ah , ’ said Mr. Luke , turning to Mrs. Sinclair , ‘these are emotions scarcely worth describing.’  ‘Certainly not , ’ muttered Mr. Storks , half aloud as he moved off to discover Lady Grace .  Mr. Luke stood apart , and surveyed the party with a look of pensive pity .  On Mr. Storks , however , whose last remark he had overheard , his eyes rested with an expression somewhat more contemptuous .  The brightening moonlight fell softly on the group before him , giving it a particularly picturesque effect , as it touched the many colours and folds of the ladies’ dresses , and struck here and there a furtive flash from a gem on wrist or throat .  The tranquil hour seemed to have a tranquillising effect on nearly everyone ; and the conversation reached Mr. Luke’s ears as a low murmur , broken only by the deep sound of Mr. Storks’s voice , and the occasional high notes of Mr. Saunders , who seemed to Mr. Luke , in his present frame of mind , to be like a shrill cock crowing to the world before the sunrise of universal philistinism .  Laurence meanwhile had caught Miss Merton’s eyes looking at him with a grave regard ; and this had brought him instantly to her side , when Mr. Luke had ended his recital .  ‘We didn’t spare the times we live in , to-night , did we ?  ’ he said slowly to her in a low voice .  ‘Well , well — I wonder what it is all coming to — we and our times together !  We are certainly a curious medley here , all of us .  I suppose no age but ours could have produced one like it — at least , let us hope so , for the credit of the ages in general.’  ‘I must say , ’ said Miss Merton , smiling , ‘that you seem to take to the age very kindly , and to be very happy amongst your friends .  But you did not tell us very much of what you thought yourself.’  ‘I don’t often say what I think , ’ said Laurence , ‘because I don’t often know what I think ; but I know a great many things that I don’t think ; and I confess I take a pleasure in saying these , and in hearing others say them ; so the society that I choose as a rule represents not the things I think I approve , but the things I am sure I repudiate.’  ‘I confess , ’ said Miss Merton , ‘I don’t quite understand that.’  ‘Shall I tell you , ’ said Laurence , ‘why I live so much in society — amongst my friends , as you call them ?  Simply because I feel , in my life , as a child does in a dark room ; and I must have some one to talk to , or else I think I should go mad .  What one says is little matter , so long as one makes a noise of some sort , and forgets the ghosts that in one’s heart one is shuddering at.’  Miss Merton was silent for a moment , and looked up into the sky in which the stars were now one by one appearing .  ‘I suppose , ’ she said presently , ‘you think it is a very poor affair — life’s whole business .  And yet I don’t see why you should.’  ‘Not see why I should ?  ’ repeated Laurence .  ‘Ah , that shows how little you , from your position , can sympathise with ours .  I am not surprised at it .  Of course , it is out of the question that you should .  You , happy in some sustaining faith , can see a meaning in all life , and all life’s affections .  You can endure — you can even welcome its sorrows .  The clouds of ennui themselves for you have silver linings .  For your religion is a kind of philosopher’s stone , turning whatever it touches into something precious .  But we — we can only remember that for us , too , things had a meaning once ; but they have it no longer .  Life stares at us now , all blank and expressionless , like the eyes of a lost friend , who is not dead , but who has turned an idiot .  Perhaps you never read Clough’s Poems , did you ?  Scarcely a day passes in which I do not echo to myself his words : —  Ah well-a-day , for we are souls bereaved ! Of all the creatures under heaven’s wide cope , We are most hopeless who had once most hope ,  ‘And do you think , ’ said Miss Merton in a low tone , ‘that belief in these days brings no painful perplexities too ?  Do you think that we can look out on the state of the world now , and think about its future , without anxiety ?  But really , ’ she went on , raising her voice , ‘if I , like you , thought that Christianity was not true , I should not waste my time in lamenting over it .  I should rather be glad that I had got free from a gigantic and awful imposition.’  ‘What !  ’ exclaimed Laurence , ‘should we rejoice at our old guide dropping dead amongst the mountains , even though he had lost his way ; if so we are left hopeless , and without any guide at all ?  ’  ‘You have your consciences , ’ said Miss Merton , with some decision in her voice ; ‘you surely don’t mean to say that you have lost them ?  ’  ‘As for our consciences , ’ said Leslie , who was standing close by , ‘we revere them so much that we fancy they possess some power .  But conscience , in most souls , is like an English Sovereign — it reigns , but it does not govern .  Its function is merely to give a formal assent to the Bills passed by the passions ; and it knows , if it opposes what those are really bent upon , that ten to one it will be obliged to abdicate.’  ‘Let us hope that the constitutions of most souls are more stable than that , ’ said Miss Merton .  ‘As far as morality goes , I expect you have quite enough to guide you ; and if you think religion false , I don’t see why its loss should trouble you .  And life itself , remember , has plenty of pleasures .  It is full of things worth living for.’  ‘Is it ?  ’ exclaimed Leslie with sudden emphasis , and he looked into Miss Merton’s face with an expression half absent and half wondering .  ‘Is there anything in life that you really think is , for its own sake , worth living for ?  To me it seems that we are haunted with the power of imagining that there might be , and are pursued with the knowledge that there never is .  Look at that lovely water before us , with its floods of moonlight — how it ripples , how it sparkles away into the distance !  What happiness sights like these suggest to one !  How happy they might make us — might , but they never do !  They only madden us with a vague pain , that I is like the sense of something lost for ever.’  ‘Still , ’ said Miss Merton , ‘life is not all moonlight .  Surely friendship and affection are worth having ?  ’  ‘Let me beg you , Miss Merton , ’ said Leslie , replying to her tone rather than to her words , ‘not to think that I am always pining and bemoaning myself .  Fortunately the deeper part of one’s nature will often go to sleep , and then the surface can enjoy itself .  We can even laugh with our lips at the very things that our hearts in silence are breaking for .  But as for happiness , that is always like prophecy , it is only fulfilled in the future ; or else it is a miracle — it only exists in the past .  The actual things we wish for we may very likely get , but they always come too late or too soon .  When the boy is in love , he tries to feel like a man ; when the man is in love , he tries to feel like a boy ; and both in vain.’  ‘Ah , ’ exclaimed Laurence , ‘I think very differently from that .  I know , ’ he said , turning to Miss Merton , ‘that friendship and affection are things worth having ; and if only pain and anxiety would leave me , I could enjoy the taste of happiness.’  ‘Could you ?  ’ said Leslie .  ‘When I look at what we are and what the world is , I can fancy no more melancholy spectacle than a happy man ; though I admit , ’ he added as he moved slowly away , ‘that there is none more amusing than a man who tries to be melancholy.’  ‘Leslie is oddly changed , ’ said Laurence , ‘since I saw him last .  I am distressed with life because I cannot find out its worth .  He is indignant at it , it seems , because he thinks he has found out its worthlessness .  And yet — I envy him his temperament .  He never lets any melancholy subdue him .  He can always laugh it down in a moment ; and he will trample bravely on any of his sentiments if he is on the road to anything he is proud of aiming at.’  Laurence was silent for a moment , and then said abruptly : —  ‘I dare say you think me very morbid ; but perhaps you can hardly realise the intense restless misery that a man endures when he can find nothing to do which he really feels worth doing .  Could I only find some one thing — one great cause to labour for — one great idea — I could devote my whole self to it , and be happy : for labour , after all , is the only thing that never palls on a man .  But such a cause , such an idea — I can find it nowhere .  Politics have turned into a petty , weary game ; religion is dead .  Our new prophets only offer us Humanity , in place of the God of which they have deprived us .  And Humanity makes a very poor Deity , since it is every day disgracing itself , and is never of the same mind from one week’s end to another .  And so here I am utterly alone — friendless , and with nothing to help me ; feeling that , were it not for the petty contemptible interests I manufacture for myself from day to day , life would be quite unbearable.’  ‘And yet , ’ said Miss Merton , ‘you have much to make you happy — much that you would be sorry to lose.’  ‘I have a certain position , ’ said Laurence , ‘and a certain amount of wealth , and I would not willingly lose anything of either of these ; but that is not because , in my heart , I value them ; but because , if I lost them , I might in my heart cease to despise them.’  ‘Surely , ’ said Miss Merton , ‘there is a better way of looking at the matter .  You came into the world with all your lower ambitions satisfied for you .  The ground therefore is quite clear for the higher ambitions .  That is why I think an aristocracy , as a rule , must always be the best governors of men , for their ambitions , as a rule , are the only genuine ones .  Think , too , what an advantage mere wealth is .  The highest labour will never produce money , but generally requires it.’  ‘That is just the difficulty , ’ said Laurence .  ‘What shall I labour for ?  I am almost maddened sometimes , as I sit all the day idle , and seem to hear the hateful wasted moments slipping away from me .  And I could do something , I am sure .  I feel I have powers.’  ‘I think , ’ said Miss Merton , ‘that all I should say to you is , find something to do .  The power to find or make an object is , I think , a great part of genius .  However , ’ she said , with some sympathy in her voice , ‘if you are in difficulties , I am sure I wish I could help you.’  ‘Well , ’ said Laurence in a subdued voice , ‘I’m sure I beg your pardon for my egoism .  I never talked so long about myself in my whole life before ; and I promise never to do so again.’  Leslie meanwhile had moved away towards Mrs. Sinclair , who , looking particularly fascinating , was still commanding the attentions of Dr. Jenkinson .  The Doctor was standing by her , all deferent gallantry , and , to Leslie’s surprise , was saying something to her about Sappho .  ‘And now , ’ said Mrs. Sinclair , with a little appealing dainty smile , ‘I want to ask you something about the Greek Anthology too .  I can’t read much Greek myself : but a gentleman who used to be rather kind to me , translated me a good deal of Greek poetry , once upon a time — when my husband , ’ she said , with a little shrug of the shoulders , ‘used to go to sleep after his dinner.’  Dr. Jenkinson here glanced suspiciously at Mrs. Sinclair .  ‘Now , what I want you to tell me , ’ she said , ‘is something about some little — ahem — little love songs , I think they were — ἐρωτικ-something or other — I really can’t pronounce the name.’  The Doctor started .  ‘And , Dr. Jenkinson , please , ’ Mrs. Sinclair went on in a voice of plaintive innocence , ‘not to think me a terrible blue-stocking , because I ask you these questions ; for I really hardly know any Greek myself — except perhaps a verse or two of the New Testament ; and that’s not very good Greek , I believe , is it ?  But the gentleman who translated so much to me , when he came to these little poems I speak of , was continually , though he was a very good scholar , quite unable to translate them .  Now , why should that have been , I want to know ?  Are Greek love-poems very hard ?  ’  ‘Well , ’ said the Doctor , stammering , yet re-assured by Mrs. Sinclair’s manner , ‘they were probably — your friend perhaps — well — they were a little obscure perhaps — much Greek is — or — ’  ‘Corrupt ?  ’ suggested Mrs. Sinclair naively .  The word was a simple one : but it sufficed to work a miracle on Dr. Jenkinson .  For the first time in his life to a lady who united the two charms of beauty and fashion , to both of which he was eminently susceptible , Dr. Jenkinson was rude .  He turned abruptly away , and staring hard at the moon , not at Mrs. Sinclair , said simply , ‘I don’t know , ’ with the most chilling intonation of which those words are capable .  He then moved a pace away , and sat down on a chair close to Miss Merton .  Mrs. Sinclair turned to Leslie , with a flash in her eyes of soft suppressed laughter .  ‘How lovely the evening is !  ’ murmured Leslie , responding to the smile .  ‘Yes , ’ said Mrs. Sinclair , looking out dreamily over the sea , ‘it almost realises one’s idea of perfect beauty.’  ‘Really , Mrs. Sinclair , ’ said Leslie , ‘you are certainly most Hellenic .  First you talk of Sappho , now of Ideas of Beauty .  Are you a Platonist ?  ’  ‘Mr .  Leslie , of course I am , ’ said Mrs. Sinclair , somewhat misapprehending his meaning .  ‘I never heard such an impertinent question .  Platonism , however , is a very rare philosophy in these days , I’m afraid.’  ‘Ah , and so you too think we are all of us very bad , do you ?  ’ said Leslie .  ‘It may be so , of course ; and yet men at least often generalise very hastily and very wrongly , I am sure .  How often , for instance , do we say that all wives nowadays are inconstant , simply because such are the only ones we remember , not because they are the only ones we know.’  This speech was quite in Mrs. Sinclair’s own manner , and she looked at Leslie with a smile of appreciation half humorous and half sentimental ,  ‘Ah , ’ she began to say , in a voice that had just a touch of sadness in it , ‘if we could but all of us love only when we ought , and where we ought — ’ But here she paused .  Her voice died away , and she leaned her head upon her hand in silence .  Leslie was going to have spoken ; but he was suddenly arrested by the sound of Dr. Jenkinson , close beside him , talking to Miss Merton in a tone of unusual earnestness .  ‘I don’t wonder , ’ he was saying , ‘that you should feel in perplexity sometimes ; whichever way we look at things there will be perplexities .  But there is such a thing as goodness ; and goodness in the end must triumph , and so in this large faith let us rest.’  ‘And , ’ said Donald Gordon in his soft deferential voice , which always sounded as if he was saying something deeply devotional , ‘don’t you think it is a higher thing to be good for good’s own sake than for God’s ?  and , whatever men may believe about having another life , and a beautiful heaven , with gold streets , and with jewelled fortifications , don’t you think that morality really is after all its own reward ?  ’  ‘But what of those poor people , ’ said Miss Merton , ‘who cannot be moral — whom circumstances have kept from being ever anything but brutalised ?  I dare say , ’ she said , turning to the Doctor , quite forgetting his sacred character , ‘that I shall hardly be able to make you understand such a notion as that of living for God’s glory .  But still , if there be not a God for whose glory we can live , and who in his turn will not leave us all to ourselves , what then ?  Think of all those who , in spite of hard surroundings , have just had strength enough to struggle to be good , but to struggle only — whose whole moral being has been left writhing in the road of life , like an animal that a cart-wheel has gone over , just lifting its eyes up with a piteous appeal at us who will not help it — ’  Miss Merton looked at Dr. Jenkinson and paused .  The moon shone tenderly on his silver hair , and his keen eyes had something very like moisture in them .  ‘Yes , ’ he said ; ‘these are great , great difficulties .  But there is another life in store for us — another life , and a God .  And don’t think that the world is growing to disbelieve in these .  Remember how many intelligent laymen count themselves members of the Church of England , simply because they believe in these two doctrines.’  ‘It has always been inexplicable to me , ’ said Mr. Storks , who had been attracted by the sound of the Doctor’s voice , ‘whence this longing for a future life could have arisen .  I suppose there are few things the very possibility of which science so conclusively disproves.’  ‘And yet , ’ said Laurence , who had been speaking for a moment to Mrs. Sinclair , ‘I can’t help thinking at certain times that there may be a whole world of things undreamed of by our scientific philosophy .  Such a feeling is touched by the sight of an “ Ora pro animâ mea , ” or a “ Resurgam , ” on a quiet tombstone , or the sign of the cross made by a mother in hope and in sorrow on the forehead of her dead child.’  Miss Merton looked at Laurence with some wonder in her large expressive eyes , Mr. Storks snorted , and Dr. Jenkinson blinked .  ‘See , ’ said Donald Goidon , ’ the moonlight grows brighter and brighter every moment .  It is almost bewildering in its dazzling paleness.’  ‘And there , ’ said Laurence , ‘do you catch it ?  — that is the light-ship on the horizon , like a large low star.’ Laurence seated himself on the balustrade , and , leaning on his elbow , looked up into the clear hollow skies .  ‘World upon world , ’ he exclaimed at last , ‘and each one crowded , very likely , with beings like ourselves , wondering what this whole great universe is !  ’  ‘And the vast majority of them believing in a wise and just God , ’ said Leslie , ‘for I see no reason why ours should be the stupidest world in all creation.’  ‘Yes , ’ said Laurence , ‘and in each world a small select band , that has pierced through such a husk of lies , and has discovered the all-golden truth , that the universe is aimless , and that for good and evil the end is all one.’  Dr. Jenkinson had a sensible horror of the stars : and as soon as they were mentioned , he turned round in his chair , giving his back to the group , Miss Merton included ; whilst Mr. Storks walked away , not without dignity ,  ‘Mrs .  Sinclair is going to sing in a moment , ’ said Laurence ; ‘some one is gone to fetch her guitar.’  ‘Hush !  ’ exclaimed Miss Merton , ‘do just listen to this.’  ‘Good gracious !  ’ said Laurence in a whisper , ‘Mr .  Storks is at my aunt at last.’  Mr. Storks had been watching ever since dinner for an opportunity of discussing with Lady Grace the true position of woman , as settled by modern science .  He was peculiarly full of this subject just now , having received only that morning a letter from a celebrated American physician , who stated very strongly as his opinion , that the strain of what is called the higher education was most prejudicial to the functions of maternity , and that the rights of woman might very probably be fatal to the existence of man .  As soon as he got hold of Lady Grace , he led up to this point with startling rapidity ; having been perfectly charmed at starting to find that she fully agreed with him that the prejudices of the present day were doing more harm to woman’s true interests than anything else .  ‘It is a pleasure , ’ said Mr. Storks , ‘to discuss these matters with a person so thoroughly enlightened as yourself .  You will of course see from what Dr. Boston says how entirely suicidal is the scheme of turning woman into a female man .  Nature has marked out her mission for her plainly enough ; and so our old friend Milton was right in his meaning after all , when he says that man is made for God , and woman for God through him , though of course the expression is antiquated.’  ‘Surely , ’ said Lady Grace with animation , ‘not only the expression is antiquated , but the meaning also is contrary to all true fairness and enlightment.’  ‘I confess , I don’t see that , ’ said Mr. Storks with a look of smiling deference .  ‘What !  ’ cried Lady Grace , ‘is it not contrary to reason — let me put it to your own candour — for a man who knows that his wife , ages hence , will be a seraph singing before the throne of God , to consider her only made for God through him — to consider her , indeed , as a thing made simply for her husband’s use ?  ’  This answer of Lady Grace’s took Mr. Storks quite aback .  He knew not how to comport himself .  His jaw fell — he stared — he said nothing .  He felt as though he had been assassinated .  But luckily at this very moment , liquid and clear , and exquisitely modulated , were heard the sounds of Mrs. Sinclair’s voice , singing the following song —  Darling , can you endure the liquid weather , The jasmine-scented twilights , oh my dear ? Or do you still remember how together We read the sad sweet Idyll ‘Guinevere , ’ Love , in one last year’s twilight ? Galeotto fu il libro , e chi lo scrisse . Galeotto fu il libro , e chi lo scrisse . Ah , the flowers smelt sweet , and all unheeding Did I read to you that tender tale , Oh my love , until my voice , in reading How those lovers greeted ‘passion-pale , ’ Trembled in the soft twilight . Galeotto fu il libro , e chi lo scrisse . Then our eyes met , and then all was over — All the world receded cold and far ; And your lips were on my lips , my lover ; And above us shook a silver star , Through depths of melting twilight . Galeotto fu il libro , e chi lo scrisse . Darling , no July will ever find us On this earth , together , more . Our fates Were but a moment cheated . Then , behind us Shrilled his voice for whom Caïna waits , Shattering our one sweet twilight . Galeotto fu il libro , e chi lo scrisse . I shall know no more of summer weather , Nought will be for me of glad or fair , Till I join my darling , and together We go for ever on the accursed air , We go for ever on the accursed air , There in the dawnless twilight .  ‘What a lovely voice !  ’ said Laurence to Miss Merton .  ‘I wonder how she will sound singing before the throne.’  ‘She will be obliged to take lessons in a rather different style , ’ said Miss Merton , unable to suppress a smile ; and then she suddenly checked herself , and looked grave .  ‘Mrs .  Sinclair has always interested me , ’ she said .  ‘I often come across her in London , but I hardly know her.’  ‘Mr .  Laurence , ’ said Mrs. Sinclair , ‘you must now make Mr. Leslie sing , for I discover that he can play the guitar too.’  Leslie was of course pressed , and with some reluctance consented .  ‘I suppose , ’ he said , ‘we are all of us more or less moon-struck to-night , so I had best sing the silliest thing I know ; and as I don’t think anything can be sillier than a song I once wrote myself , I will sing that.’  He touched a few chords carelessly , and yet with the manner of a practised player ; paused for a moment , and then again striking the instrument began to sing .  He was watched at first with merely a languid curiosity ; and Miss Prattle whispered to Lady Ambrose that his attitude was very affected ; but curiosity and criticism were both lost in surprise at the first sound of his rich and flexible voice , and still more so at the real passion which he breathed into the following words , rude and artless as they were : —  Oh , her cheek , her cheek was pale , Her voice was hardly musical ; But your proud grey eyes grew tender , Child , when mine they met , With a piteous self-surrender , Margaret . Child , what have I done to thee ? Child , what hast thou done to me ? How you froze me with your tone That last day we met ! Your sad eyes then were cold as stone , Margaret . Oh , it all now seems to me A far-off weary mystery ! Yet — and yet , her last sad frown Awes me still , and yet — In vain I laugh your memory down ,  Leslie received loud thanks from many voices , especially from Lady Ambrose .  Some , however , were almost silent from surprise at the feeling , which he seemed quite unconsciously to have betrayed .  Mrs. Sinclair held out her hand to him , when no one was looking , and said quietly , ‘Thank you so much , I can’t tell you how I like your song.’  ‘Well , ’ said Laurence , as the party moved indoors into the lighted drawing-room , ‘we have been all of us very sentimental to-night , and if we can’t get better now , I hope we shall sleep it off , and wake up well and sane to-morrow morning.’  This being Saturday night , there sprang up some vague mention of church .  The nearest church however was some miles distant , and a rumour arose amongst the guests that Dr. Jenkinson would perform the service and preach a sermon in the private chapel .  BOOK II .  CHAPTER I .  On the following morning Lady Ambrose awoke somewhat out of spirits .  Last night , whilst her maid was brushing her hair , she had pondered deeply over much that she had heard during the evening ; and her thoughts having been once started in such a direction , the conviction quickly dawned upon her that the world was indeed becoming very bad , and that society was on the point of dissolution .  This was quite a new view of things to her , and it had all the charm of novelty .  Still , however , she would probably have found by the morning that she had successfully slept it off , if the post had not failed to bring her an invitation to the Duchess of — — — ’s garden-party at — — — House , which she was expecting with some anxiety .  As it was , therefore , her spirits failed to recover themselves , and whilst she was being dressed her thoughts wandered wistfully away to the promised morning service in the chapel .  At breakfast , however , another blow awaited her .  How a private chapel had come to be mentioned last evening was not clear .  Certainly there was no such appendage to Laurence’s villa , and the susceptibilities of Lady Ambrose received a severe shock , as she learnt that the ministrations of Dr. Jenkinson , the comfort of which she was looking forward to , were to take place in the theatre which adjoined the house .  She bore up , however , like a brave woman , and resolving that nothing , on her part at least , should be wanting , she appeared shortly before eleven o’clock , in full Sunday costume , with her bonnet , and her books of devotion .  Mrs. Sinclair looked at her in dismay .  ‘I had thought , ’ she said plaintively to Laurence , ‘that , as this was only a morning performance , I need not make a toilette .  And as for a prayer-book , why , dear Mr. Laurence , I have not had one since I was confirmed.’  ‘Not when you were married ?  ’ said Leslie .  ‘Perhaps , ’ said Mrs. Sinclair pensively , ‘but I have forgotten all about that — now.’  At this moment the gong sounded , and the whole party , Lady Ambrose and her bonnet amongst them , adjourned to the place of worship , which was connected with the house by a long corridor .  When the party entered they found themselves in a complete miniature theatre , with the gas , as there were no windows , fully burning .  It had been arranged beforehand that the guests should occupy the boxes , the gallery being appropriated to the servants , whilst the stalls were to remain completely empty .  The congregation entered with great decorum and gradually settled themselves in their places with a subdued whispering .  Lady Ambrose buried her face in her hands for a few moments , and several of the younger ladies followed her example .  Everyone then looked about them silently , in suspense and expectation .  The scene that met their eyes was certainly not devotional .  The whole little semicircle glittered with heavy gilding and with hangings of crimson satin , and against these the stucco limbs of a number of gods and goddesses gleamed pale and prominent .  The gallery rested on the heads of nine scantily-draped Muses , who , had they been two less in number , might have passed for the seven deadly sins ; round the frieze in high relief reeled a long procession of Fauns and Bacchanals ; and half the harem of Olympus sprawled and floated on the azure ceiling .  Nor was this all .  The curtain was down , and , brilliantly illuminated as it was , displayed before the eyes of the congregation Faust on the Brocken , with a long plume , dancing with the young witch , who could boast of no costume at all .  The scene was so strange that everyone forgot to whisper or even to smile .  There was a complete silence , and the eyes of all were soon fixed upon the curtain in wonder and expectation .  Presently a sound was heard .  A door opened , and Dr. Jenkinson , in his ordinary dress , entered the stalls .  He looked deliberately round him for a moment , as though he were taking stock of those present ; then , selecting the central stall as a kind of prie-dieu , he knelt down facing his congregation , and after a moment’s pause began to read the service in a simple , earnest voice .  Lady Ambrose , however , though she knew her prayer-book as well as most women , could not for the life of her find the place .  The reason was not far to seek .  The Doctor was opening the proceedings with the following passage from the Koran , which he had once designed to use in Westminster Abbey as the text of a missionary sermon .  ‘Be constant in prayer , ’ he began , in a voice tremulous with emotion , ‘and give alms : and what good ye have sent before for your souls , ye shall find it with God .  Surely God seeth that which ye do .  They say , Verily none shall see Paradise except they be Jews or Christians .  This is their wish .  Say ye , Produce your proof of this if ye speak truth .  Nay , but he who resigneth himself to God , and doeth that which is right , he shall have his reward with his Lord ; there shall come no fear on them , neither shall they be grieved.’  Dr. Jenkinson then went on to the Confession , the Absolution , and a number of other selections from the English morning service , omitting , however , the creed , and concluded the whole with a short prayer of St. Francis Xavier’s .  But it was discovered that his voice , unless he made an effort , was unhappily only partly audible from the position which he occupied ; and Laurence , as soon as the Liturgy was over , went softly up to him to apprise him of the fact .  Dr. Jenkinson was very grateful for being thus told in time .  It was fortunate , he said , that the prayers only had been missed ; the question was , where should he go for the sermon .  Laurence in a diffident manner proposed the stage ; but the Doctor accepted the proposal with great alacrity , and Laurence went immediately out with him to conduct him to his new pulpit .  In a few moments the curtain was observed to twitch and tremble ; two or three abortive pulls were evidently being made ; and at last Faust and the young witch rapidly rolled up , and discovered first the feet and legs , and then the entire person of Doctor Jenkinson , standing in the middle of a gorge in the Indian Caucasus — the remains of a presentation of Prometheus Bound which had taken place last February .  The Doctor was not a man to be abashed by incongruities .  He looked about him for a moment : he slightly raised his eyebrows , and then , without the least discomposure , and in a clear incisive voice , began : —  ‘In the tenth verse of the hundred and eleventh Psalm , it is said , “ The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom .  ” The fear of the Lord , ’ he again repeated , more slowly , and with more emphasis , surveying the theatre as he spoke , ‘is the beginning of wisdom.’  He then made a long pause , looking down at his feet , as if , although he held his sermon-book in his hand , he were considering how to begin .  As he stood there silent , the footlights shining brightly on his silver hair , Lady Ambrose had full time to verify the text in her prayer-book .  At last the Doctor suddenly raised his head , and with a gentle smile of benignity playing on his lips , shook open his manuscript , and thus proceeded : —  ‘The main difficulty that occupied the early Greek Philosophers , as soon as philosophy in its proper sense can be said to have begun , was the great dualism that seemed to run through all things .  Matter and mind , the presence of imperfection , and the idea of perfection , or the unity and plurality of being , were amongst the various forms in which the two contradictory elements of things were presented to them , as demanding reconcilement or explanation .  This manner of viewing things comes to a head , so to speak , amongst the ancients , in the system of Plato .  With him the sensible and the intelligible worlds stand separated by a great gulf , the one containing all good , the other of itself only evil , until we recognise its relation to the good , and see that it is only a shadow and a type of it .  The world of real existence is something outside , and virtually unconnected with , this world of mere phenomena ; and the Platonic prayer is that we should be taken out of the world , rather than , as Christ says , with a fuller wisdom , that we should be delivered from the evil .  Plato had , however , by thus dwelling on this antagonism in things , paved the way for a reconciliation — some say he even himself began it .  At any rate , it was through him that it was nearly , if not quite , accomplished by his disciple Aristotle .  Aristotle first systematised the great principle of evolution , and transformed what had appeared to former thinkers as the dualism of mind and matter into a single scale of ascending existences .  Thus what Plato had conceived of as two worlds , were now presented as opposite poles of the same .  The πρώτη ὕλη , the world “ without form and void , ” receiving form , at length culminated in the soul of man ; and in the soul of man sensation at length culminated in pure thought.’ A slight cough here escaped from Mrs. Sinclair .  ‘You will perhaps think , ’ the Doctor went on , ‘that a sermon is not the place in which to discuss such differences of secular opinion ; or you will perhaps think that such differences are of no very great moment .  But if you look under the surface , and at the inner meaning of them , you will find that they bear upon questions which are , or ought to be , of the very highest moment to each of us — questions indeed , ’ the Doctor added , suddenly lowering his manuscript for a moment , and looking sharply round at his audience , ‘which we all of us here have very lately — very lately indeed — either discussed ourselves , or heard discussed by others.’ This produced an immediate sensation , especially amongst the feminine part of the listeners , to whom the discourse thus far had seemed strange , rather than significant .  ‘The question , ’ the Doctor continued , ‘is one of the relations of the spiritual to the natural ; and the opposition between the views of these two ancient philosophers is by no means obsolete in our own century .  There is even now far too prevalent a tendency to look upon the spiritual as something transcending and completely separate from the natural ; and there is in the minds of many well-meaning and earnest persons a sort of alarm felt at any attempt to bring the two into connection .  This feeling is experienced not by Christians only , but by a large number of their opponents .  There is , for instance , no doctrine more often selected for attack by those who oppose Christianity upon moral grounds , than that of which my text is an expression , I mean the doctrine of a morality enforced by rewards and punishments .  Such morality , we hear it continually urged by men who set themselves up as advanced thinkers , is no morality at all .  No action can be good , they tell us , that does not spring from the love of good .  Virtue is no longer virtue if it springs from fear .  The very essence of it is to spring from freedom .  Now , these arguments , though specious at the first blush of the thing , are really , if we look them honestly in the face , to the utmost shallow and unphilosophical .