{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_37651/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_37651","id":"gutenberg_37651","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37651","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Humour","Category: Novels","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Islands -- Fiction","Positivism -- Fiction"],"text":"</pre>\nTHE NEW PAUL AND VIRGINIA\n\nor\n\nPOSITIVISM ON AN ISLAND\n\nBY\n\nW.H. MALLOCK\n\nAUTHOR OF 'THE NEW REPUBLIC' ETC.\n\n\nLONDON\n\nCHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY\n\n1890\n\n\n\n\n_'Pessimism as to the essential dignity of man is one of the surest\nmarks of the enervating influence of this dream of a celestial glory.'_\n\n                                                 Mr Frederic Harrison\n\n\n\n\n'Those who can read the signs of the times read in them\nthat the kingdom of man is at hand'--Professor CLIFFORD\n\nThou art smitten, o God, thou art smitten; thy curse is\n   upon thee, O Lord!\nAnd the love song of earth as thou diest, resounds through\n   the wind of its wings,\nGlory to man in the highest, for man is the master of\n   things\n                              _Songs before Sunrise_\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n  Chapter I.\n  Chapter II.\n  Chapter III.\n  Chapter IV.\n  Chapter V.\n  Chapter VI.\n  Chapter VII.\n  Chapter VIII.\n  Chapter IX.\n  Chapter X.\n  Chapter XI.\n  Chapter XII.\n  Chapter XIII.\n  Chapter XIV.\n  Chapter XV.\n  Chapter XVI.\n  Chapter XVII.\n  Chapter XVIII.\n\n  Notes\n\n\n\n_THE NEW PAUL AND VIRGINIA._\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\n\nThe magnificent ocean-steamer the _Australasian_ was bound for England,\non her homeward voyage from Melbourne, carrying Her Majesty's mails and\nninety-eight first-class passengers. Never did vessel start under\nhappier auspices. The skies were cloudless; the sea was smooth as glass.\nThere was not a sound of sickness to be heard anywhere; and when\ndinner-time came there was not a single absentee nor an appetite\nwanting.\n\nBut the passengers soon discovered they were lucky in more than weather.\nDinner was hardly half over before two of the company had begun to\nattract general attention; and every one all round the table was\nwondering, in whispers, who they could possibly be.\n\nOne of the objects of this delightful curiosity was a large-boned,\nmiddle-aged man, with gleaming spectacles, and lank, untidy hair; whose\ncoat fitted him so ill, and who held his head so high, that one saw at a\nglance he was some great celebrity. The other was a beautiful lady of\nabout thirty years of age, the like of whom nobody present had ever seen\nbefore. She had the fairest hair and the darkest eyebrows, the largest\neyes and the smallest waist conceivable; art and nature had been plainly\nstruggling as to which should do the most for her; whilst her bearing\nwas so haughty and distinguished, her glance so tender, and her dress so\nexpensive and so fascinating, that she seemed at the same time to defy\nand to court attention.\n\nEvening fell on the ship with a soft warm witchery. The air grew purple,\nand the waves began to glitter in the moonlight. The passengers gathered\nin knots upon the deck, and the distinguished strangers were still the\nsubject of conjecture. At last the secret was discovered by the wife of\nan old colonial judge; and the news spread like wildfire. In a few\nminutes all knew that there were on board the _Australasian_ no less\npersonages than Professor Paul Darnley and the superb Virginia St.\nJohn.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\n\nMiss St. John had, for at least six years, been the most renowned woman\nin Europe. In Paris and St. Petersburg, no less than in London, her name\nwas equally familiar both to princes and to pot-boys; indeed, the gaze\nof all the world was fixed on her. Yet, in spite of this exposed\nsituation, scandal had proved powerless to wrong her; she defied\ndetraction. Her enemies could but echo her friends' praise of her\nbeauty; her friends could but confirm her enemies' description of her\ncharacter. Though of birth that might almost be called humble, she had\nbeen connected with the heads of many distinguished families; and so\ngeneral was the affection she inspired, and so winning the ways in which\nshe contrived to retain it, that she found herself, at the age of\nthirty, mistress of nothing except a large fortune. She was now\nconverted with surprising rapidity by a Ritualistic priest, and she\nbecame in a few months a model of piety and devotion. She made lace\ntrimmings for the curate's vestments; she bowed at church as often and\nprofoundly as possible; she enjoyed nothing so much as going to\nconfession; she learnt to despise the world. Indeed, such utter dross\ndid her riches now seem to her, that, despite all the arguments of her\nghostly counsellor, she remained convinced that they were far too\nworthless to offer to the Church, and she saw nothing for it but to\nstill keep them for herself. The mingled humility and discretion of this\nresolve so won the heart of a gifted colonial bishop, then on a visit to\nEngland, that, having first assured himself that Miss St. John was\nsincere in making it, he besought her to share with him his humble\nmitre, and make him the happiest prelate in the whole Catholic Church.\nMiss St. John consented. The nuptials were celebrated with the most\nelaborate ritual, and after a short honeymoon the bishop departed for\nhis South Pacific diocese of the Chasuble Islands, to prepare a home for\nhis bride, who was to follow him by the next steamer.\n\nProfessor Paul Darnley, in his own walk of life, was even more famous\nthan Virginia had been in hers. He had written three volumes on the\norigin of life, which he had spent seven years in looking for in\ninfusions of hay and cheese; he had written five volumes on the entozoa\nof the pig, and two volumes of lectures, as a corollary to these, on the\nsublimity of human heroism and the whole duty of man. He was renowned\nall over Europe and America as a complete embodiment of enlightened\nmodern thought. He criticised everything; he took nothing on trust,\nexcept the unspeakable sublimity of the human race and its august\nterrestrial destinies. And, in his double capacity of a seer and a\n_savant_, he had destroyed all that the world had believed in the past,\nand revealed to it all that it is going to feel in the future. His mind\nindeed was like a sea, into which the other great minds of the age\ndischarged themselves, and in which all the slight discrepancies of the\nphilosophy of the present century mingled together and formed one\nharmonious whole. Nor was he less successful in his own private life.\nHe married, at the age of forty, an excellent evangelical lady, ten\nyears his senior, who wore a green gown, grey corkscrew curls, and who\nhad a fortune of two hundred thousand pounds. Deeply pledged though she\nwas to the most vapid figments of Christianity, Mrs. Darnley was yet\nproud beyond measure of her husband's worldwide fame, for she did but\nimperfectly understand the grounds of it. Indeed, the only thing that\nmarred her happiness was the single tenet of his that she had really\nmastered. This, unluckily, was that he disbelieved in hell. And so, as\nMrs. Darnley conceived that that place was designed mainly to hold those\nwho doubted its existence, she daily talked her utmost and left no text\nunturned to convince her darling of his very dangerous error. These\nassiduous arguments soon began to tell. The Professor grew moody and\nbrooding, and he at last suggested to his medical man that a voyage\nround the world, unaccompanied by his wife, was the prescription most\nneeded by his failing patience. Mrs. Darnley at length consented with a\nfairly good grace. She made her husband pledge himself that he would not\nbe absent for above a twelvemonth, or else, she said, she should\nimmediately come after him. She bade him the tenderest of adieus, and\npromised to pray till his return for his recovery of a faith in hell.\n\nThe Professor, who had but exceeded his time by six months, was now on\nboard the _Australasian_, homeward bound to his wife. Virginia was\noutward bound to her husband.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\n\nThe sensation created by the presence of these two celebrities was\nprofound beyond description; and the passengers were never weary of\nwatching the gleaming spectacles and the square-toed boots of the one,\nand the liquid eyes and the ravishing toilettes of the other. Virginia's\nacquaintance was made almost instantly by three pale-faced curates, and\nso well did their friendship prosper, that they soon sang at nightfall\nwith her a beautiful vesper hymn. Nor did the matter end here, for the\nstrains sounded so lovely, and Virginia looked so devotional, that most\nof the passengers the night after joined in a repetition of this\ntouching evening office.\n\nThe Professor, as was natural, held quite aloof, and pondered over a new\nspecies of bug, which he had found very plentiful in his berth. But it\nsoon occurred to him that he often heard the name of God being uttered\notherwise than in swearing. He listened more attentively to the sounds\nwhich he had at first set down as negro-melodies, and he soon became\nconvinced that they were something whose very existence he despised\nhimself for remembering--namely, Christian hymns. He then thought of the\nthree curates, whose existence he despised himself for remembering also.\nAnd the conviction rapidly dawned on him that, though the passengers\nseemed fully alive to his fame as a man of science, they could yet know\nvery little of all that science had done for them; and of the death-blow\nit had given to the foul superstitions of the past. He therefore\nresolved that next day he would preach them a lay-sermon.\n\nAt the appointed time the passengers gathered eagerly round him--all but\nVirginia, who retired to her cabin when she saw that the preacher wore\nno surplice, as she thought it would be a mortal sin to listen to a\nsermon without one.\n\nThe Professor began amidst a profound silence. He first proclaimed to\nhis hearers the great primary axiom on which all modern thought bases\nitself. He told them that there was but one order of things--it was so\nmuch neater than two; and if we would be certain of anything, we must\nnever doubt this. Thus, since countless things exist that the senses\n_can_ take account of, it is evident that nothing exists that the senses\ncan _not_ take account of. The senses can take no account of God;\ntherefore God does not exist. Men of science can only see theology in a\nridiculous light, therefore theology has no side that is not ridiculous.\nHe then told them a few of the names that enlightened thinkers had\napplied to the Christian deity--how Professor Tyndall had called him an\n'atom-manufacturer,' and Professor Huxley a 'pedantic drill-sergeant'.\nThe passengers at once saw how demonstrably at variance with fact was\nall religion, and they laughed with a sense of humour that was quite new\nto them. The Professor's tones then became more solemn, and, having\nextinguished error, he at once went on to unveil the brilliant light of\ntruth. He showed them how, viewed by modern science, all existence is a\nchain, with a gas at one end and no one knows what at the other; and how\nHumanity is a link somewhere; but--holy and awful thought!--we can none\nof us tell where. 'However,' he proceeded, 'of one thing we can be quite\ncertain; all that is, is matter; the laws of matter are eternal, and we\ncannot act or think without conforming to them; and if,' he said, 'we\nwould be solemn and high, and happy, and heroic, and saintly, we have\nbut to strive and struggle to do what we cannot for an instant avoid\ndoing. Yes,' he exclaimed, 'as the sublime Tyndall tells us, let us\nstruggle to attain to a deeper knowledge of matter, and a more faithful\nconformity to its laws!'\n\nThe Professor would have proceeded, but the weather had been rapidly\ngrowing rough, and he here became violently sea-sick.\n\n'Let us,' he exclaimed hurriedly, 'conform to the laws of matter and go\nbelow.'\n\nNor was the advice premature. A storm arose, exceptional in its\nsuddenness and its fury. It raged for two days without ceasing. The\n_Australasian_ sprang a leak; her steering gear was disabled; and it was\nfeared she would go ashore on an island that was seen dimly through the\nfog to the leeward. The boats were got in readiness. A quantity of\nprovisions and of the passengers' baggage was already stowed in the\ncutter; when the clouds parted, the sun came out again, and the storm\nsubsided almost as quickly as it rose.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\n\nNo sooner were the ship's damages in a fair way to be repaired than the\nProfessor resumed his sermon. He climbed into the cutter, which was\nstill full of the passengers' baggage, and sat down on the largest of\nVirginia's boxes. This so alarmed Virginia that she incontinently\nfollowed the Professor into the cutter, to keep an eye on her property;\nbut she did not forget to stop her ears with her fingers, that she\nmight not be guilty of listening to an unsurpliced minister.\n\nThe Professor took up the thread of his discourse just where he had\nbroken it off. Every circumstance favoured him. The calm sea was\nsparkling under the gentlest breeze; all Nature seemed suffused with\ngladness; and at two miles' distance was an enchanting island, green\nwith every kind of foliage, and glowing with the hues of a thousand\nflowers. The Professor, having reminded his hearers of what nonsense\nthey now thought all the Christian teachings, went on to show them the\nblessed results of this. Since the God that we once called all-holy is\na fable, that Humanity is all-holy must be a fact. Since we shall never\nbe sublime, and solemn, and unspeakably happy hereafter, it is evident\nthat we can be sublime, and solemn, and unspeakably happy here. 'This,'\nsaid the Professor, 'is the new Gospel. It is founded on exact thought.\nIt is the Gospel of the kingdom of man; and had I only here a microscope\nand a few chemicals, I could demonstrate its eternal truth to you. There\nis no heaven to seek for; there is no hell to shun. We have nothing to\nstrive and live for except to be unspeakably happy.'\n\nThis eloquence was received with enthusiasm. The captain in particular,\nwho had a wife in every port he touched at, was overjoyed at hearing\nthat there was no hell; and he sent for all the crew, that they might\nlearn the good news likewise. But soon the general gladness was marred\nby a sound of weeping. Three-fourths of the passengers, having had time\nto reflect a little, began exclaiming that as a matter of fact they were\nreally completely miserable, and that for various reasons they could\nnever be anything else. 'My friends,' said the Professor, quite\nundaunted, 'that is doubtless completely true. You are not happy now;\nyou probably never will be. But that, I can assure you, is of very\nlittle moment. Only conform faithfully to the laws of matter, and your\nchildren's children will be happy in the course of a few centuries; and\nyou will like that far, far better than being happy yourselves. Only\nconsider the matter in this light, and you yourselves will in an instant\nbecome happy also; and whatever you say, and whatever you do, think only\nof the effect it will have five hundred years afterwards.'\n\nAt these solemn words, the anxious faces grew calm. An awful sense of\nthe responsibility of each one of us, and the infinite consequences of\nevery human act, was filling the hearts of all; when by a faithful\nconformity to the laws of matter, the boiler blew up, and the\n_Australasian_ went down. In an instant the air was rent with yells and\ncries; and all the Humanity that was on board the vessel was busy, as\nthe Professor expressed it, uniting itself with the infinite azure of\nthe past. Paul and Virginia, however, floated quietly away in the\ncutter, together with the baggage and provisions.\n\nVirginia was made almost senseless by the suddenness of the catastrophe;\nand on seeing five sailors sink within three yards of her, she fainted\ndead away. The Professor begged her not to take it so much to heart, as\nthese were the very men who had got the cutter in readiness; 'and they\nare, therefore,' he said, 'still really alive in the fact of our happy\nescape.' Virginia, however, being quite insensible, the Professor turned\nto the last human being still to be seen above the waters, and shouted\nto him not to be afraid of death, as there was certainly no hell, and\nthat his life, no matter how degraded and miserable, had been a glorious\nmystery, full of infinite significance. The next moment the struggler\nwas snapped up by a shark. Our friends, meanwhile, borne by a current,\nhad been drifting rapidly towards the island. And the Professor,\nspreading to the breeze Virginia's beautiful lace parasol, soon brought\nthe cutter to the shore on a beach of the softest sand.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\n\nThe scene that met Paul's eyes was one of extreme loveliness. He found\nhimself in a little fairy bay, full of translucent waters, and fringed\nwith silvery sands. On either side it was protected by fantastic rocks,\nand in the middle it opened inland to an enchanting valley, where tall\ntropical trees made a grateful shade, and where the ground was carpeted\nwith the softest moss and turf.\n\nPaul's first care was for his fair companion. He spread a costly\ncashmere shawl on the beach, and placed her, still fainting, on this. In\na few moments she opened her eyes; but was on the point of fainting\nagain as the horrors of the last half-hour came back to her, when she\ncaught sight in the cutter of the largest of her own boxes, and she\nbegan to recover herself. Paul begged her to remain quiet whilst he went\nto reconnoitre.\n\nHe had hardly proceeded twenty yards into the valley, when to his\ninfinite astonishment he came on a charming cottage, built under the\nshadow of a bread-tree, with a broad verandah, plate-glass windows, and\nred window-blinds. His first thought was that this could be no desert\nisland at all, but some happy European settlement. But, on approaching\nthe cottage, it proved to be quite untenanted, and from the cobwebs\nwoven across the doorway it seemed to have been long abandoned. Inside\nthere was abundance of luxurious furniture; the floors were covered with\ngorgeous Indian carpets; and there was a pantry well stocked with plate\nand glass and table-linen. The Professor could not tell what to make of\nit, till, examining the structure more closely, he found it composed\nmainly of a ship's timbers. This seemed to tell its own tale, and he at\nonce concluded that he and Virginia were not the first castaways who had\nbeen forced to make the island for some time their dwelling-place.\n\nOverjoyed at this discovery, he hastened back to Virginia. She was by\nthis time apparently quite recovered, and was kneeling on the cashmere\nshawl, with a rosary in her hands designed especially for the use of\nAnglo-Catholics, alternately lifting up her eyes in gratitude to heaven,\nand casting them down in anguish at her torn and crumpled dress. The\npoor Professor was horrified at the sight of a human being in this\ndegrading attitude of superstition. But as Virginia quitted it with\nalacrity as soon as ever he told his news to her, he hoped he might soon\nconvert her into a sublime and holy Utilitarian.\n\nThe first thing she besought him to do was to carry her biggest box to\nthis charming cottage, that she might change her clothes, and appear in\nsomething fit to be seen in. The Professor most obligingly at once did\nas she asked him; and whilst she was busy at her toilette, he got from\nthe cutter what provisions he could, and proceeded to lay the table.\nWhen all was ready, he rang a gong which he found suspended in the\nlobby; Virginia appeared shortly in a beautiful pink dressing-gown,\nembroidered with silver flowers; and just before sunset the two sat down\nto a really excellent meal. The bread tree at the door of the cottage\ncontributed some beautiful French rolls; close at hand also they\ndiscovered a butter-tree; and the Professor had produced from the cutter\na variety of salt and potted meats, _pat\u00e9 de foie gras_, cakes,\npreserved fruits, and some bottles of fine champagne. This last helped\nmuch to raise their spirits. Virginia found it very dry, and exactly\nsuited to her palate. She had but drunk five glasses of it, when her\nnatural smile returned to her, though she was much disappointed,\nbecause Paul took no notice of her dressing-gown, and when she had drunk\nthree glasses more she quietly went to sleep on the sofa.\n\nThe moon had by this time risen in dazzling splendour, and the Professor\nwent out and lighted a cigar. All during dinner there had been a feeling\nof dull despair in his heart, which even the champagne did not\ndissipate. But now, as he surveyed in the moonlight the wondrous\nParadise in which his strange fate had cast him, his mood changed. The\nair was full of the scents of a thousand night-smelling flowers; the sea\nmurmured on the beach in soft, voluptuous cadences. The Professor's\ncigar was excellent. He now saw his situation in a truer light. Here was\na bountiful island, where earth unbidden brought forth all her choicest\nfruits, and most of the luxuries of civilisation had already been wafted\nthither. Existence here seemed to be purified from all its evils. Was\nnot this the very condition of things which all the sublimest and\nexactest thinkers of modern times had been dreaming and lecturing and\nwriting books about for a good half-century? Here was a place where\nHumanity could do justice to itself, and realise those glorious\ndestinies which all exact thinkers take for granted must be in store for\nit. True, from the mass of Humanity he was completely cut away; but\nVirginia was his companion. Holiness, and solemnity, and unspeakably\nsignificant happiness did not, he argued, depend on the multiplication\ntable. He and Virginia represented Humanity as well as a million\ncouples. They were a complete humanity in themselves, and humanity in a\nperfectible shape; and the very next day they would make preparations\nfor fulfilling their holy destiny, and being as solemnly and unspeakably\nhappy as it was their stern duty to be.\n\nThe Professor turned his eyes upwards to the starry heavens, and a sense\ncame over him of the eternity and the immensity of Nature, and the\ndemonstrable absence of any intelligence that guided, it. These\nreflections naturally brought home to him with more vividness the\nstupendous and boundless importance of Man. His bosom swelled violently,\nand he cried aloud, his eyes still fixed on the firmament, 'Oh,\nimportant All! oh, important Me!'\n\nWhen he came back to the cottage he found Virginia just getting off the\nsofa, and preparing to go to bed. She was too sleepy even to say\ngood-night to him, and with evident want of temper was tugging at the\nbuttons of her dressing-gown. 'Ah!' she murmured as she left the room,\n'if God, in His infinite mercy, had only spared my maid!'\n\nVirginia's evident discontent gave profound pain to Paul. 'How solemn,'\nhe exclaimed, 'for half Humanity to be discontented!' But he was still\nmore disturbed at the appeal to a chimerical manufacturer of atoms; and\nhe groaned in tones of yet more sonorous sorrow, 'How solemn for half\nHumanity to be sunk lower than the beasts by superstition!'\n\nHowever, he hoped that these stupendous evils might, under the present\nfavourable conditions, vanish in the course of a few days' progress; and\nhe went to bed, full of august auguries.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\n\nNext morning he was up betimes; and the prospects of Humanity looked\nmore glorious than ever. He gathered some of the finest pats from the\nbutter-tree, and some fresh French rolls from the bread-tree. He\ndiscovered a cow close at hand, that allowed him at once to milk it; and\na little roast pig ran up to him out of the underwood, and fawning on\nhim with its trotters, said, 'Come, eat me.'\n\nThe Professor vivisected it before Virginia's door, that its automatic\nnoise, which the vulgar call cries of pain, might awaken her; and he\nthen set it in a hot dish on the table.\n\n'It has come! it has come!' he shouted, rapturously, as Virginia entered\nthe room, this time in a blue silk dressing-gown, embroidered with\nflowers of gold.\n\n'What has come?' said Virginia, pettishly, for she was suffering from a\nterrible headache, and the Professor's loud voice annoyed her. 'You\ndon't mean to say that we are rescued, are we?'\n\n'Yes,' answered Paul, solemnly; 'we are rescued. We are rescued from all\nthe pains and imperfections of a world that has not learnt how to\nconform to the laws of matter, and is but imperfectly acquainted with\nthe science of sociology. It is therefore inevitable that, the evils of\nexistence being thus removed, we shall both be solemnly, stupendously,\nand unspeakably happy.'\n\n'Nonsense!' said Virginia, snappishly, who thought the Professor was\njoking.\n\n'It is not nonsense,' said the Professor, 'It is deducible from the\nteachings of John Stuart Mill, of Auguste Comte, of Mr. Frederic\nHarrison, and of all the exact thinkers who have cast off superstition,\nand who adore Humanity.'\n\nVirginia meanwhile ate _pat\u00e9 de foie gras_, of which she was\npassionately fond; and, growing a little less sullen, she at last\nadmitted that they were lucky in having at least the necessaries of life\nleft to them. 'But as for happiness--there is nothing to do here, there\nis no church to go to, and you don't seem to care a bit for my\ndressing-gown. What have we got to make us happy?'\n\n'Humanity,' replied the Professor eagerly,--'Humanity, that divine\nentity, which is necessarily capable of everything that is fine and\ninvaluable, and is the object of indescribable emotion to all exact\nthinkers. And what is Humanity?' he went on more earnestly; 'you and I\nare Humanity--you and I are that august existence. You already are all\nthe world to me; and I very soon shall be all the world to you. Adored\nbeing, it will be my mission and my glory to compel you to live for me.\nAnd then, as modern philosophy can demonstrate, we shall both of us be\nsignificantly and unspeakably happy.'\n\nFor a few moments Virginia merely stared at Paul. Suddenly she turned\nquite pale, her lips quivered, and exclaiming, 'How dare you!--and I,\ntoo, the wife of a bishop!' she left the room in hysterics.\n\nThe Professor could make nothing of this. Though he had dissected many\ndead women, he knew very little of the hearts of live ones. A sense of\nshyness overpowered him, and he felt embarrassed, he could not tell\nwhy, at being thus left alone with Virginia. He lit a cigar and went\nout. Here was a to-do indeed, he thought. How would progress be possible\nif one half of Humanity misunderstood the other?\n\nHe was thus musing, when suddenly a voice startled him; and in another\nmoment a man came rushing up to him, with every demonstration of joy.\n\n'Oh, my dear master! oh, emancipator of the human intellect! and is it\nindeed you? Thank God!----I beg pardon for my unspeakable blasphemy--I\nmean, thank circumstances over which I have no control.'\n\nIt was one of the three curates, whom Paul had supposed drowned, but who\nnow related how he had managed to swim ashore, despite the extreme\nlength of his black clerical coat. 'These rags of superstition,' he\nsaid, 'did their best to drown me. But I survive in spite of them, to\ncovet truth and to reject error. Thanks to your glorious teaching,' he\nwent on, looking reverentially into the Professor's face, 'the very\nnotion of an Almighty Father makes me laugh consumedly, it is so absurd\nand so immoral. Science, through your instrumentality, has opened my\neyes. I am now an exact thinker.'\n\n'Do you believe, said Paul, 'in solemn, significant, and unspeakably\nhappy Humanity?\n\n'I do,' said the curate, fervently. 'Whenever I think of Humanity, I\ngroan and moan to myself out of sheer solemnity.'\n\n'Then two thirds of Humanity,' said the Professor, 'are thoroughly\nenlightened. Progress will now go on smoothly.'\n\nAt this moment Virginia came out, having rapidly recovered composure at\nthe sound of a new man's voice.\n\n'You here--you, too!' exclaimed the curate. 'How solemn, how\nsignificant! This is truly Providential----I mean this has truly\nhappened through conformity to the laws of matter.'\n\n'Well,' said Virginia, 'since we have a clergyman amongst us, we shall\nperhaps be able to get on.'\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\n\nThings now took a better turn. The Professor ceased to feel shy; and\nproposed, when the curate had finished an enormous breakfast, that they\nshould go down to the cutter, and bring up the things in it to the\ncottage. 'A few hours' steady progress,' he said, 'and the human race\nwill command all the luxuries of civilisation--the glorious fruits of\ncenturies of onward labour.'\n\nThe three spent a very busy morning in examining and unpacking the\nluggage. The Professor found his favourite collection of modern\nphilosophers; Virginia found a large box of knick-knacks, with which to\nadorn the cottage; and there was, too, an immense store of wine and of\nchoice provisions.\n\n'It is rather sad,' sighed Virginia, as she dived into a box of French\nchocolate-creams, 'to think that all the poor people are drowned that\nthese things belonged to.'\n\n'They are not dead,' said the Professor: 'they still live on this holy\nand stupendous earth. They live in the use we are making of all they had\ngot together. The owner of those chocolate-creams is immortal because\nyou are eating them.'\n\nVirginia licked her lips and said, 'Nonsense!'\n\n'It is not nonsense,' said the Professor. 'It is the religion of\nHumanity.'\n\nAll day they were busy, and the time passed pleasantly enough. Wines,\nprovisions, books, and china ornaments were carried up to the cottage\nand bestowed in proper places. Virginia filled the glasses in the\ndrawing-room with gorgeous leaves and flowers and declared by the\nevening, as she looked round her, that she could almost fancy herself in\nSt. John's Wood.\n\n'See, said the Professor, 'how rapid is the progress of material\ncivilisation! Humanity is now entering on the fruits of ages. Before\nlong it will be in a position to be unspeakably happy.'\n\nVirginia retired to bed early. The Professor took the curate out with\nhim to look at the stars; and promised to lend him some writings of the\nmodern philosophers, which would make him more perfect in the new view\nof things. They said good-night, murmuring together that there was\ncertainly no God, that Humanity was very important, and that everything\nwas very solemn.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\n\nNext morning the curate began studying a number of essays that the\nProfessor lent him, all written by exact thinkers, who disbelieved in\nGod, and thought Humanity adorable, and most important. Virginia lay on\nthe sofa, and sighed over one of Miss Broughton's novels; and it\noccurred to the Professor that the island was just the place where, if\nanywhere, the missing link might be found.\n\n'Ah!' he exclaimed; 'all is still progress. Material progress came to an\nend yesterday. Mental progress has begun to-day. One third of Humanity\nis cultivating sentiment; another third is learning to covet truth. I,\nthe remaining and most enlightened third, will go and seek it. Glorious,\nsolemn Humanity! I will go and look about for its arboreal ancestor.'\n\nEvery step the Professor took he found the island more beautiful. But he\ncame back to luncheon, having been unsuccessful in his search. Events\nhad marched quickly in his absence. Virginia was at the beginning of her\nthird volume; and the curate had skimmed over so many essays, that he\nprofessed himself able to give a thorough account of the want of faith\nthat was in him.\n\nAfter luncheon the three sat together in easy chairs, in the verandah,\nsometimes talking, sometimes falling into a half-doze. They all agreed\nthat they were wonderfully comfortable, and the Professor said--\n\n'All Humanity is now at rest, and in utter peace. It is just taking\nbreath, before it becomes unspeakably and significantly happy.'\n\nHe would have said more, but he was here startled by a piteous noise of\ncrying, and the three found themselves confronted by an old woman\ndripping with sea-water, and with an expression on her face of the\nutmost misery. They soon recognised her as one of the passengers on the\nship. She told them how she had been floated ashore on a spar, and how\nshe had been sustained by a little roast pig, that kindly begged her to\neat it, having first lain in her bosom to restore her to warmth. She was\nnow looking for her son.\n\n'And if I cannot find him,' said the old woman, 'I shall never smile\nagain. He has half broken my heart,' she went on, 'by his wicked ways.\nBut if I thought he was dead--dead in the midst of his sins--it would be\nbroken altogether; for in that case he must certainly be in hell.'\n\n'Old woman,' said the Professor, very slowly and solemnly, 'be\ncomforted. I announce to you that your son is alive.'\n\n'Oh, bless you, sir, for that word!' cried the old woman. 'But where is\nhe? Have you seen him? Are you sure that he is living?'\n\n'I am sure of it,' said the Professor, 'because enlightened thought\nshows me that he cannot be anything else. It is true that I saw him sink\nfor a third time in the sea, and that he was then snapped up by a shark.\nBut he is as much alive as ever in his posthumous activities. He has\nmade you wretched after him; and that is his future life. Become an\nexact thinker, and you will see that this is so. Old woman,' added the\nProfessor solemnly, 'old woman, listen to me--_You and your son are in\nhell._'\n\nAt this the old woman flew into a terrible rage.\n\n'In hell, sir!' she exclaimed; 'me in hell!--a poor lone woman like me!\nHow dare you!' And she sank back in a chair and fainted.\n\n'Alas!' said the Professor, 'thus is misery again introduced into the\nworld. A fourth part of Humanity is now miserable.'\n\nThe curate answered promptly that if no restoratives were given her,\nshe would probably die in a few minutes. 'And to let her die,' he said,\n'is clearly our solemn duty. It will be for the greatest happiness of\nthe greatest number.'\n\n'No,' said the Professor; 'for our sense of pity would then be wounded,\nand the happiness of all of us would be marred by that.'\n\n'Excuse me,' said the curate; 'but exact thought shows me that pity for\nothers is but the imagining of their misfortune falling on ourselves.\nNow, we can none of us imagine ourselves exactly in the old woman's\ncase; therefore it is quite impossible that we can pity her.'\n\n'But,' said the Professor, 'such an act would violate our ideas of\njustice.'\n\n'You are wrong again,' said the curate, 'for exact thought shows me that\nthe love of justice is nothing but the fear of suffering injustice. If\nwe were to kill strong men, we might naturally fear that strong men\nwould kill us. But whatever we do to fainting old women, we cannot\nexpect that fainting old women will do anything to us in return.'\n\n'Your reasoning cannot be sound,' said the Professor, 'for it would lead\nto the most horrible conclusions. I will solve the difficulty better. I\nwill make the old woman happy, and therefore fit to live. Old woman,' he\nexclaimed, 'let me beg you to consider this. You are yourself by your\nown unhappiness expiating your son's sins. Do but think of that, and you\nwill become unspeakably happy.'\n\nMeanwhile, however, the old woman had died. When the Professor\ndiscovered this he was somewhat shocked; but at length with a sudden\nchange of countenance, 'We neither of us did it,' he exclaimed; 'her\ndeath is no act of ours. It is part of the eternal not-ourselves that\nmakes for righteousness--righteousness, which is, as we all know, but\nanother name for happiness. Let us adore the event with reverence.'\n\n'Yes,' said the curate, 'we are well rid of her. She was an immoral old\nwoman, for happiness is the test of morality, and she was very unhappy.'\n\n'On the contrary,' said the Professor, 'she was a moral old woman; for\nshe has made us happy by dying so very opportunely. Let us speak well of\nthe dead. Her death has been a holy and a blessed one. She has conformed\nto the laws of matter. Thus is unhappiness destined to fade out of the\nworld. Quick! let us tie a bag of shot to all the sorrow and evil of\nHumanity, which, after all, is only a fourth part of it, and let us sink\nher in the bay close at hand, that she may catch lobsters for us.'\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\n\nAt last,' said the Professor, as they began dinner that evening, 'the\nfulness of time has come. All the evils of Humanity are removed, and\nprogress has come to an end because it can go no further. We have\nnothing now to do but to be unspeakably and significantly happy.'\n\nThe champagne flowed freely. Our friends ate and drank of the best,\ntheir spirits rose, and Virginia admitted that this was really 'jolly.'\nThe sense of the word pleased the Professor, but its sound seemed below\nthe gravity of the occasion; so he begged her to say 'sublime' instead.\n'We can make it mean,' he said, 'just the same, but we prefer it for the\nsake of its associations.'\n\nIt soon, however, occurred to him that eating and drinking were hardly\ndelights sufficient to justify the highest state of human emotion, and\nhe began to fear he had been feeling sublime prematurely; but in another\nmoment he recollected he was an altruist, and that the secret of their\nhappiness was not that any one of them was happy, but that they each\nknew the others were.\n\n'Yes, my dear curate,' said the Professor, 'what I am enjoying is the\nchampagne that you drink, and what you are enjoying is the champagne\nthat I drink. This is altruism; this is benevolence; this is the sublime\noutcome of enlightened modern thought. The pleasures of the table, in\nthemselves, are low and beastly ones; but if we each of us are only glad\nbecause the others are enjoying them, they become holy and glorious\nbeyond description.'\n\n'They do,' cried the curate rapturously, 'indeed they do. I will drink\nanother bottle for your sake. It is sublime!' he said, as he tossed off\nthree glasses. 'It is significant!' he said as he finished three more.\n'Tell me, my dear, do I look significant?' he added, as he turned to\nVirginia, and suddenly tried, to crown the general bliss by kissing her.\n\nVirginia started back, looking fire and fury at him. The Professor was\ncompletely astounded by an occurrence so unnatural, and exclaimed in a\nvoice of thunder, 'Morality, sir--remember morality! How dare you upset\nthat which Professor Huxley tells us must be for ever strong enough to\nhold its own?'\n\nBut the last glass of champagne had put the curate beyond the reach of\nexact thought. He tumbled under the table, and the Professor carried him\noff to bed.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\n\nThe Professor, like most serious thinkers, knew but little of that\ntrifle commonly called 'the world.' He had never kissed any one except\nhis wife; even that he did as seldom as possible; and the curate lying\ndead drunk was the first glimpse he had of what, _par excellence_, is\ndescribed as 'life.' But though the scene just recounted was thus a\nterrible shock to him, in one way it gave him an unlooked-for comfort.\nHe had felt that even yet things were not quite as sublime as they\nshould be. He now saw the reason. 'Of course,' he said, 'existence\ncannot be perfect so long as one third of Humanity makes a beast of\nitself. A little more progress must be still necessary.'\n\nHe hastened to explain this next morning to Virginia, and begged her not\nto be alarmed at the curate's scandalous conduct. 'Immorality,' he said,\n'is but a want of success in attaining our own happiness. It is\nevidently most immoral for the curate to be kissing you; and therefore\nkissing you would not really conduce to his happiness. I will convince\nhim of this solemn truth in a very few moments. Then the essential\ndignity of human nature will become at once apparent, and we shall all\nof us at last begin to be unspeakably happy.'\n\nThe curate, however, altogether declined to be convinced. He maintained\nstoutly that to kiss Virginia would be the greatest pleasure that\nHumanity could offer him. 'And if it is immoral as well as pleasant,' he\nadded, 'I should like it all the better.'\n\nAt this the Professor gave a terrible groan; he dropped almost fainting\ninto a chair; he hid his face in his hands; and murmured\nhalf-articulately, 'Then I can't tell what to do!' In another instant,\nhowever, he recovered himself; and fixing a dreadful look on the\ncurate, 'That last statement of yours,' he said, 'cannot be true; for if\nit were, it would upset all my theories. It is a fact that can be proved\nand verified, that if you kissed Virginia it would make you miserable.'\n\n'Pardon me,' said the curate, rapidly moving towards her, 'your notion\nis a remnant of superstition; I will explode it by a practical\nexperiment.'\n\nThe Professor caught hold of the curate's coat-tails, and forcibly\npulled him back into his seat.\n\n'If you dare attempt it,' he said, 'I will kick you soundly, and,\nshocking, immoral man! you will feel miserable enough then.'\n\nThe curate was a terrible coward, and very weak as well. 'You are a\ngreat hulking fellow,' he said, eyeing the Professor; 'and I am of a\nsingularly delicate build. I must, therefore, conform to the laws of\nmatter, and give in.' He said this in a very sulky voice; and, going out\nof the room, slammed the door after him.\n\nA radiant expression suffused the face of the Professor. 'See,' he said\nto Virginia, 'the curate's conversion is already half accomplished. In a\nfew hours more he will be rational, he will be moral, he will be\nsolemnly and significantly happy.'\n\nThe Professor talked like this to Virginia the whole morning; but in\nspite of all his arguments, she declined to be comforted. 'It is all\nvery well,' she said, 'whilst you are in the way. But as soon as your\nback is turned, I know he will be at me again.'\n\n'Will you never,' said Paul, by this time a little irritated, 'will you\nnever listen to exact thought? The curate is now reflecting; and a\nlittle reflection must inevitably convince him that he does not really\ncare to kiss you, and that it would give him very little real pleasure\nto do so.'\n\n'Stuff!' exclaimed Virginia, with a sudden vigour at which the Professor\nwas thunderstruck. 'I can tell you,' she went on, 'that better men than\nhe have borne kicks for my sake; and to kiss me is the only thing that\nthat little man cares about.--What _shall_ I do?' she exclaimed,\nbursting into tears. 'Here is one of you insulting me by trying to kiss\nme; and the other insulting me by saying that I am not worth being\nkissed!'\n\n'Ah, me!' groaned the poor Professor in an agony, 'here is one third of\nHumanity plunged in sorrow; and another third has not yet freed itself\nfrom vice. When, when, I wonder, will the sublimity begin?'\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\n\nAt dinner, however, things wore a more promising aspect. The curate had\nbeen so terrified by the Professor's threats, that he hardly dared to so\nmuch as look at Virginia; and to make up for it, he drank and drank\nchampagne, till the strings of his tongue were loosed, and he was\nlaughing and chattering at a rate that was quite extraordinary.\nVirginia, seeing herself thus neglected by the curate, began to fear\nthat, as Paul said, he really did not so much care to kiss her after\nall. She, therefore, put on all her most enticing ways; she talked,\nflirted, and smiled her best, and made her most effective eyes, that the\ncurate might see what a prize was for ever beyond his reach.\n\nThis state of affairs seemed full of glorious promise. Virginia's tears\nwere dried, she had never looked so radiant and exquisite before. The\ncurate had foregone every attempt to kiss Virginia, and yet apparently\nhe was happiness itself; and Paul took him aside, as soon as the meal\nwas over, to congratulate him on the holy state to which exact thought\nhad conducted him. 'You see,' Paul said, 'what a natural growth the\nloftiest morality is. Virginia doesn't want to be kissed by you. I\nshould be shocked at your doing so shocking a thing as kissing her. If\nyou kissed her, you would make both of us miserable; and, as a necessary\nconsequence, you would be in an agony likewise; in addition to which, I\nshould inevitably kick you.'\n\n'But,' said the curate, 'suppose I kissed Virginia on the sly,--I merely\nput this as an hypothesis, remember,--and that in a little while she\nliked it, what then? She and I would both be happy, and you ought to be\nhappy too, because we were.'\n\n'Idiot!' said the Professor. 'Virginia is another man's wife. Nobody\nreally likes kissing another man's wife; nor do wives ever like kissing\nany one except their husbands. What they really like is what Professor\nHuxley calls \"the undefined but bright ideal of the highest good,\"\nwhich, as he says, exact thought shows us is the true end of existence.\nBut, pooh! what is the use of all this talking? You know which way your\nhigher nature calls you; and, of course, unless men believe in God, they\ncannot help obeying their higher nature.'\n\n'I,' said the curate, 'think the belief in God a degrading superstition;\nI think every one an imbecile who believes a miracle possible. And yet\nI do not care two straws about the highest good. What you call my lower\nnature is far the strongest; I mean to follow it to the best of my\nability; and I prefer calling it my higher, for the sake of the\nassociations.'\n\nThis plunged the Professor in deeper grief than ever. He knew not what\nto do. He paced up and down the verandah, or about the rooms, and moaned\nand groaned as if he had a violent toothache. Virginia and the curate\nasked what was amiss with him. 'I am agonising,' he said, 'for the sake\nof holy, solemn, unspeakably dignified Humanity.'\n\nThe curate, seeing the Professor thus dejected, by degrees took heart\nagain, and as Virginia still continued her fascinating behaviour to him,\nhe resolved to try and prove to her that, the test of morality being\nhappiness, the most moral thing she could do would be to allow him to\nkiss her. No sooner had he begun to propound these views, than the\nProfessor gave over his groaning, seized the curate by the collar, and\ndragged him out of the room with a roughness that nearly throttled him.\n\n'I was but propounding a theory--an opinion,' gasped the curate. 'Surely\nthought is free. You will not persecute me for my opinions?'\n\n'It is not for your opinions,' said the Professor, 'but for the\nhorrible effect they might have. Opinions,' he roared, 'can only be\ntolerated which have no possible consequences. You may promulgate any of\nthose as much as you like; because to do that would be a self-regarding\naction.'\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\n\n'Well,' said the curate, 'if I may not kiss Virginia, I will drink\nbrandy instead. That will make me happy enough; and then we shall all be\nradiant.'\n\nHe soon put his resolve into practice. He got a bottle of brandy, he sat\nhimself down under a palm-tree, and told the Professor he was going to\nmake an afternoon of it.\n\n'Foolish man!' said the Professor; 'I was never drunk myself, it is\ntrue; but I know that to get drunk makes one's head ache horribly. To\nget drunk is, therefore, horribly immoral; and therefore I cannot permit\nit.'\n\n'Excuse me,' said the curate; 'it is a self-regarding action. Nobody's\nhead will ache but mine; so that is my own look-out. I have been\nexpelled from school, from college, and from my first curacy for\ndrinking. So I know well enough the balance of pains and pleasures.'\n\nHere he pulled out his brandy bottle, and applied his lips to it.\n\n'Oh, Humanity!' he exclaimed, 'how solemn this brandy tastes!'\n\nMatters went on like this for several days. The curate was too much\nfrightened to again approach Virginia. Virginia at last became convinced\nthat he did not care about kissing her. Her vanity was wounded, and she\nbecame sullen; and this made the Professor sullen also. In fact, two\nthirds of Humanity were overcast with gloom. The only happy section of\nit was the curate, who alternately smoked and drank all day long.\n\n'The nasty little beast!' said Virginia to the Professor, 'he is nearly\nalways drunk. I am beginning quite to like you, Paul, by comparison\nwith him. Let us turn him out, and not let him live in the cottage.'\n\n'No,' said the Professor; 'for he is one third of Humanity. You do not\nproperly appreciate the solidarity of mankind. His existence, however, I\nadmit is a great difficulty.'\n\nOne day at dinner-time, shortly afterwards, Paul came in radiant.\n\n'Oh holy, oh happy event!' he exclaimed; 'all will go right at last.'\n\nVirginia inquired anxiously what had happened, and Paul informed her\nthat the curate, who had got more drunk than usual that afternoon, had\nfallen over a cliff, and been dashed to pieces.\n\n'What event,' he asked, 'could be more charming more unspeakably holy?\nIt bears about it every mark of sanctity. It is for the greatest\nhappiness of the greatest number. Come,' he continued, 'let you and me\ntogether, purged of sin, and purged of sorrow as we are--let us begin\nour love-feast. Let us each seek the happiness of the other. Let us\ninstantly be sublime and happy.'\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\n\n'The supreme moment is come,' said Paul solemnly, as they sat down to\ndinner. 'Let us prepare ourselves for realising to the full the\nessential dignity of Humanity--that _grand \u00eatre_, which has come, in the\ncourse of progress, to consist of you and me. Virginia, consider this.\nEvery condition of happiness that modern thinkers have dreamed of is now\nfulfilled. We have but to seek each the happiness of the other, and we\nshall both be in a solemn, a significant, and unspeakable state of\nrapture. See, here is an exquisite leg of mutton. I,' said Paul, who\nliked the fat best, 'I will give up all the fat to you.'\n\n'And I,' said Virginia, resignedly, 'will give up all the lean to you,'\n\nA few mouthfuls made Virginia feel sick. 'I confess,' said she, 'I can't\nget on with this fat.'\n\n'I confess,' the Professor answered, 'I don't exactly like this lean.'\n\n'Then let us,' said Virginia, 'be like Jack Sprat and his wife.'\n\n'No,' said the Professor, meditatively, 'that is quite inadmissible. For\nin that case we should be egoistic hedonists. However, for to-day it\nshall be as you say. I will think of something better to-morrow.'\n\nNext day he and Virginia had a chicken apiece; only Virginia's was put\nbefore Paul, and Paul's before Virginia; and they each walked round the\ntable to supply each other with the slightest necessaries.\n\n'Ah!' cried Paul, 'this is altruism indeed. I think already I can feel\nthe sublimity beginning.'\n\nVirginia liked this rather better. But soon she committed the sin of\ntaking for herself the liver of Paul's chicken. As soon as she had eaten\nthe whole of it her conscience began to smite her. She confessed her\nsin to Paul, and inquired, with some anxiety, if he thought she would go\nto hell for it? 'Metaphorically,' said Paul, 'you have already done so.\nYou are punished by the loss of the pleasure you would have had in\ngiving that liver to me, and also by your knowledge of my knowledge of\nyour folly in foregoing the pleasure.'\n\nVirginia was much relieved by this answer; she at once took several more\nof the Professor's choicest bits, and was happy in the thought that her\nsins were expiated in the very act of their commission, by the latent\npain she felt persuaded they were attended by. Feeling that this was\nsufficient, she took care not to add Paul's disapproval to her\npunishment, so she never told him again.\n\nFor a short time this practice of altruism seemed to Virginia to have\nmany advantages. But though the Professor was always exclaiming, 'How\nsignificant is human life by the very nature of its constitution!' she\nvery soon found it a trifle dull. Luckily, however, she hit upon a new\nmethod of exercising morality, and, as the Professor fully admitted, of\ngiving it a yet more solemn significance.\n\nThe Professor having by some accident lost his razors, his moustaches\nhad begun to grow profusely, and Virginia had watched them with a deep\nbut half-conscious admiration. At last, in a happy moment, she\nexclaimed, 'Oh, Paul, do let me wax the ends for you,' Paul at first\ngiggled, blushed, and protested, but, as Virginia assured him it would\nmake her happy, he consented. 'Then,' she said, 'you will know that I am\nhappy, and that in return will make you happy also. Ah!' she exclaimed\nwhen the operation was over, 'do go and examine yourself in the glass. I\ndeclare you look exactly like Jack Barley--Barley-Sugar, as we used to\ncall him--of the Blues.'\n\nVirginia smiled; suddenly she blushed; the Professor blushed also. To\ncover the blushes she begged to be allowed to do his hair. 'It will make\nme so much happier, Paul,' she said. The Professor again assented, that\nhe might make Virginia happy, and that she might be happy in knowing\nthat he was happy in promoting her happiness. At last the Professor, shy\nand awkward as he was, was emboldened to offer to do Virginia's hair in\nreturn. She allowed him to arrange her fringe, and, as she found he did\nno great harm to it, she let him repeat the operation as often as he\nliked.\n\nA week thus passed, full, as the Professor said, of infinite solemnity.\n'I admit, Paul,' sighed Virginia, 'that this altruism, as you call it,\nis very touching. I like it very much. But,' she added, sinking her\nvoice to a whisper, 'are you quite sure, Paul, that it is perfectly\nmoral?'\n\n'Moral!' echoed the Professor, 'moral! Why, exact thought shows us that\nit is the very essence of all morality!'\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\n\nMatters now went on charmingly. All existence seemed to take a richer\ncolouring, and there was something, Paul said, which, in Professor\nTyndall's words, 'gave fulness and tone to it, but which he could\nneither analyse nor comprehend.' But at last a change came. One morning,\nwhilst Virginia was arranging Paul's moustaches, she was frightened\nalmost into a fit by a sudden apparition at the window. It was a\nhideous hairy figure, perfectly naked but for a band of silver which it\nwore about its neck. For a moment it did nothing but grin and stare;\nthen, uttering a discordant scream, it flung into Virginia's lap a\nfilthy piece of carrion, and in an instant it had bounded away with an\nalmost miraculous activity.\n\nVirginia shrieked with disgust and terror, and clung to Paul's knees for\nprotection. He, however, in some strange way, seemed unmoved and\npreoccupied. All at once, to her intense surprise, she saw his face\nlight up with an expression of triumphant eagerness. 'The missing link!'\nhe exclaimed, 'the missing link at last! Thank God.--I beg pardon for\nmy unspeakable blasphemy--I mean, thank circumstances over which I have\nno control. I must this instant go out and hunt for it. Give me some\nprovisions in a knapsack, for I will not come back till I have caught\nit.'\n\nThis was a fearful blow to Virginia. She fell at Paul's feet weeping,\nand besought him in piteous accents that he would not thus abandon her.\n\n'I must,' said the Professor solemnly, 'for I am going in pursuit of\nTruth. To arrive at Truth is man's perfect and most rapturous happiness.\nYou must surely know that, even if I have forgotten to tell it to you.\nTo pursue truth--holy truth for holy truth's sake--is a more solemn\npleasure than even frizzling your hair.'\n\n'Oh,' cried. Virginia, hysterically, 'I don't care two straws for truth.\nWhat on earth is the good of it?'\n\n'It is its own end,' said the Professor. 'It is its own exceeding great\nreward. I must be off at once in search of it. Good-bye for the present.\nSeek truth on your own account, and be unspeakably happy also, because\nyou know that I am seeking it.'\n\nThe Professor remained away for three days. For the first two of them\nVirginia was inconsolable. She wandered about mournfully with her head\ndejected. She very often sighed; she very often uttered the name of\nPaul. At last she surprised herself by exclaiming aloud to the\nirresponsive solitude, 'Oh, Paul, until you were gone, I never knew how\npassionately I loved you.' No sooner were these words out of her mouth\nthan she stood still, horror-stricken. 'Alas!' she cried, 'and have I\nreally come to this? I am in a state of deadly sin, and there is no\npriest here to confess to! Alone, alone I must conquer my forbidden love\nas I may. But, ah me, what a guilty thing I am!'\n\nAs she uttered these words, her eyes fell on a tin box of the\nProfessor's, marked 'Private,' which he always kept carefully locked,\nand which had before now excited her curiosity. Suddenly she became\nconscious of a new impulse. 'I will pursue truth!' she exclaimed. 'I\nwill break that box open, and I will see what is inside it. Ah!' she\nadded, as with the aid of the poker she at last wrenched off the\npadlock. 'Paul may be right, after all. There is more interest in the\npursuit of truth than I thought there was.'\n\nThe box was full of papers, letters, and diaries, the greater part of\nwhich were marked 'Strictly private.' Seeing this, Virginia's appetite\nfor truth became keener than ever. She instantly began her researches.\nThe more she read, the more eager she became; and the more private\nappeared the nature of the documents, the more insatiable did her\nthirst for truth grow. To her extreme surprise, she gathered that the\nProfessor had begun life as a clergyman. There were several photographs\nof him in his surplice; and a number of devout prayers, apparently\ncomposed by himself for his own personal use. This discovery was the\nresult of her labours.\n\n'Certainly,' she said, 'it is one of extreme significance. If Paul was a\npriest once, he must be a priest now. Orders are indelible--at least in\nthe Church of England I know they are.'\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\n\nPaul came back, to Virginia's extreme relief, without the missing link.\nBut he was still radiant in spite of his failure; for he had discovered,\nhe said, a place where the creature had apparently slept, and he had\ncollected in a card-paper box a large number of its parasites.\n\n'I am glad,' said Virginia, 'that you have not found the missing link:\nthough as to thinking that we really came from monkeys, of course that\nis too absurd. Now if you could have brought me a nice monkey, I should\nreally have liked that. The Bishop has promised that I shall have a\ndarling one, if I ever reach him--ah me!--if----Paul,' continued\nVirginia, in a very solemn voice, after a long pause, 'do you know that\nwhilst you have been away I have been pursuing truth? I rather liked it;\nand I found it very, very significant.'\n\n'Oh, joy!' exclaimed the Professor. 'Oh, unspeakable radiance! Oh, holy,\noh essentially dignified Humanity! it will very soon be perfect! Tell\nme, Virginia, what truths have you been discovering?'\n\n'One truth about you, Paul,' said Virginia, very gravely, 'and one\ntruth about me. I burn--oh, I burn to tell them to you!'\n\nThe Professor was enraptured to hear that one half of Humanity had been\nthus studying human nature; and he began asking Virginia if her\ndiscoveries belonged to the domain of historical or biological science.\nMeanwhile Virginia had flung herself on her knees before him, and was\nexclaiming, in piteous accents--\n\n'By my fault, by my own fault, by my very grievous fault, holy father, I\nconfess to you----'\n\n'Is the woman mad?' cried the Professor, starting up from his seat.\n\n'You are a priest, Paul,' said Virginia; 'that is one of the things I\nhave discovered. I am in a state of deadly sin; that is the other: and I\nmust and will confess to you. Once a priest, always a priest. You cannot\nget rid of your orders, and you must and shall hear me.'\n\n'I was once in orders, it is true,' said Paul, reluctantly; 'but how did\nyou find out my miserable secret?'\n\n'In my zeal for truth,' said Virginia, 'I broke open your tin box; I\nread all your letters; I looked at your early photographs; I saw all\nyour beautiful prayers.'\n\n'You broke open my box!' cried the Professor. 'You read my letters and\nmy private papers! Oh, horrible! oh, immoral! What shall we do if one\nhalf of Humanity has no feeling of honour?'\n\n'Oh!' said Virginia, 'it was all for the love of truth--of solemn and\nholy truth. I sacrificed every other feeling for that. But I have not\ntold you my truth yet; and I am determined you shall hear it, or I must\nstill remain in my sins. Paul, I am a married woman; and I discover, in\nspite of that, that I have fallen in love with you. My husband, it is\ntrue, is far away; and whatever we do, he could never possibly be the\nwiser. But I am in a state of mortal sin, nevertheless; and I would\ngive anything in the world if you would only kiss me.'\n\n'Woman!' exclaimed Paul, aghast with fright and horror, 'do you dare to\nabuse truth, by turning it to such base purposes?'\n\n'Oh, you are so clever,' Virginia went on, 'and when the ends of your\nmoustaches are waxed, you look positively handsome; and I love you so\ndeeply and so tenderly, that I shall certainly go to hell if you do not\ngive me absolution.'\n\nAt this the Professor jumped up, and, staring very hard at Virginia,\nasked her if, after all that he had said on the ship, she really\nbelieved in such exploded fallacies as hell, God, and priestcraft.\n\nShe reminded him that he had preached there without a surplice, and that\nshe had therefore not thought it right to listen to a word he said.\n\n'Ah!' cried the Professor, with a sigh of intense relief, 'I see it all\nnow. How can Humanity ever be unspeakably holy so long as one half of it\ngrovels in dreams of an unspeakably holy God? As Mr. Frederic Harrison\ntruly says, a want of faith in \"the essential dignity of man is one of\nthe surest marks of the enervating influence of this dream of a\ncelestial glory.\"' The Professor accordingly re-delivered to Virginia\nthe entire substance of his lectures in the ship. He fully impressed on\nher that all the intellect of the world was on the side of Humanity; and\nthat God's existence could be disproved with a box of chemicals. He was\nagreeably surprised at finding her not at all unwilling to be convinced,\nand extremely unexacting in her demands for proof. In a few days she had\nnot a remnant of superstition left. 'At last!' exclaimed the Professor;\n'it has come at last. Unspeakable happiness will surely begin now.'\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\n\nNo one now could possibly be more emancipated than Virginia. She\ntittered all day long and whenever the Professor asked her why, she\nalways told him she was thinking of 'an intelligent First Cause,' a\nconception which she said 'was really quite killing.' But when her first\nburst of intellectual excitement was over, she became more serious. 'All\nthought, Paul,' she said, 'is valuable mainly because it leads to\naction. Come, my love, my dove, my beauty, and let us kiss each other\nall daylong. Let us enjoy the charming license which exact thought shows\nus we shall never be punished for.'\n\nThis was a result of freedom that the Professor had never bargained for.\nHe could not understand it, 'because,' he argued, 'if people were to\nreason in that way, morality would at once cease to be possible.' But he\nhad seen so much of the world lately, that he soon recovered himself,\nand recollecting that immorality was only ignorance, he began to show\nVirginia where her error lay---her one remaining error. 'I perceive,' he\nsaid, 'that you are ignorant of one of the greatest triumphs of exact\nthought--the distinction it has established between the lower and the\nhigher pleasures. Philosophers, who have thought the whole thing over in\ntheir studies, have become sure that as soon as the latter are presented\nto men they will at once leave all and follow them.'\n\n'They must be very nice pleasures,' said Virginia, 'if they would make\nme leave kissing you for the sake of them.'\n\n'They _are_ nice,' said the Professor. 'They are the pleasures of the\nimagination, the intellect, and the glorious apprehension of truth.\nCompared with these, kissing me would be quite insipid. Remain here for\na moment, whilst I go to fetch something, and you shall then begin to\ntaste them.'\n\nIn a few moments Paul came back again, and found Virginia in a state of\nintense expectancy.\n\n'Now--,' he exclaimed triumphantly.\n\n'Now--,' exclaimed Virginia, with a beating heart.\n\nThe Professor put his hand in his pocket, and drew slowly forth from it\nan object which Virginia knew well. It reminded her of the most innocent\nperiod of her life; but she hated the very sight of it none the less. It\nwas a Colenso's Arithmetic.\n\n'Come,' said the Professor, 'no truths are so pure and necessary as\nthose of mathematics; you shall at once begin the glorious apprehension\nof them.'\n\n'Oh, Paul,' cried Virginia, in an agony, 'but I really don't care for\ntruth at all; and you know that when I broke your tin box open and read\nyour private letters in my search for it, you were very angry with me.'\n\n'Ah!' said Paul, holding up his finger, 'but those were not necessary\ntruths. Truths about human action and character are not necessary\ntruths; therefore men of science care nothing about them, and they have\nno place in scientific systems of ethics. Pure truths are of a very\ndifferent character; and, however much you may misunderstand your own\ninclinations, you can really care for nothing so much as doing a few\nsums. I will set you some very easy ones to begin with, and you shall do\nthem by yourself, whilst I magnify in the next room the parasites of the\nmissing link.'\n\nVirginia saw that there was no help for it. She did her sums by herself\nthe whole morning, which, as at school she had been very good at\narithmetic, was not a hard task for her, and Paul magnified parasites in\nthe next room, and prepared slides for his microscope.\n\nWhen they met again, Paul began skipping and dancing, as if he had gone\nquite out of his senses, and every now and then between the skips he\ngave a sepulchral groan. Virginia asked him in astonishment what on\nearth was the matter with him.\n\n'Matter!' he exclaimed. 'Why, Humanity is at last perfect! All the evils\nof existence are removed; we neither of us believe in a God or a\ncelestial future; and we are both in full enjoyment of the higher\npleasures and the apprehension of scientific truth. And therefore I skip\nbecause Humanity is so unspeakably happy, and I groan because it is so\nunspeakably solemn.'\n\n'Alas! alas!' cried Virginia, 'and would not you like to kiss me?'\n\n'No,' said the Professor, sternly; 'and you would not like me to kiss\nyou. It is impossible that one half of Humanity should prefer the\npleasure of unlawful love to the pleasure of finding out scientific\ntruths.'\n\n'But,' pleaded Virginia, 'cannot we enjoy both?'\n\n'No,' said the Professor, 'for if I began to kiss you I should soon not\ncare two straws about the parasites of the missing link.'\n\n'Well, said Virginia, 'it is nice of you to say that; but still----Ah\nme! Ah me!'\n\nAnd her bosom heaved slowly with a soft, long sigh.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\n\nVirginia was preparing, with a rueful face, to resume her enjoyment of\nthe higher pleasures, when a horrible smell, like that of an open drain,\nwas suddenly blown in through the window.\n\nVirginia stopped her nose with her handkerchief. The Professor's conduct\nwas very different.\n\n'Oh, rapture!' he cried, jumping up from his seat, 'I smell the missing\nlink.' And in another instant he was gone.\n\n'Well,' said Virginia, 'here is one comfort. Whilst Paul is away I shall\nbe relieved from the higher pleasures. Alas!' she cried, as she flung\nherself down on the sofa, 'he is so nice-looking, and such an\nenlightened thinker. But it is plain he has never loved, or else very\ncertainly he would love again.'\n\nPaul returned in about a couple of hours, again unsuccessful in his\nsearch.\n\n'Ah!' cried Virginia, 'I am so glad you have not caught the creature!'\n\n'Glad!' echoed the Professor, 'glad! Do you know that till I have caught\nthe missing link the cause of glorious truth will suffer grievously?\nThe missing link is the token of the solemn fact of our origin from\ninorganic matter. I did but catch one blessed glimpse of him. He had\ncertainly a silver band about his neck. He was about three feet high. He\nwas rolling in a lump of carrion. It is through him that we are related\nto the stars--the holy, the glorious stars, about which we know so\nlittle.'\n\n'Bother the stars!' said Virginia; 'I couldn't bear, Paul, that anything\nshould come between you and me. I have been thinking of you and longing\nfor you the whole time you have been away.'\n\n'What!' cried Paul, 'and how have you been able to forego the pleasures\nof the intellect?'\n\n'I have deserted them,' cried Virginia, 'for the pleasures of the\nimagination, which I gathered from you were also very ennobling. And I\nfound they were so; for I have been imagining that you loved me. Why is\nthe reality less ennobling than the imagination? Paul, you shall love\nme; I will force you to love me. It will make us both so happy: we shall\nnever go to hell for it; and it cannot possibly cause the slightest\nscandal.'\n\nThe Professor was more bewildered than ever by these appeals. He\nwondered how Humanity would ever get on if one half of it cared nothing\nfor pure truth, and persisted in following the vulgar impulses that had\nbeen the most distinguishing feature of its benighted past--that is to\nsay, those ages of its existence of which any record has been preserved\nfor us. Luckily, however, Virginia came to his assistance.\n\n'I think I know, Paul,' she said, 'why I do not care as I should do for\nthe intellectual pleasures. We have both been seeking them by ourselves;\nand we have been therefore egoistic hedonists. It is quite true, as you\nsay, that selfishness is a despicable thing. Let me,' she went on,\nsitting down beside him, 'look through your microscope along with you.\nI think perhaps, if we shared the pleasure, the missing link's parasites\nmight have some interest for me.'\n\nThe Professor was overjoyed at this proposal. The two sat down side by\nside, and tried their best to look simultaneously through the eye-piece\nof the microscope. Virginia in a moment expressed herself much\nsatisfied. It is true they saw nothing; but their cheeks touched. The\nProfessor too seemed contented, and said they should both be in a state\nof rapture when they had got the right focus. At last Virginia\nwhispered, with a soft smile--\n\n'Suppose we put that nasty microscope aside; it is only in the way. And\nthen, oh, Paul; dear love, dove of a Paul! we can kiss each other to our\nheart's content.'\n\nPaul thought Virginia quite incorrigible, and rushed headlong out of the\nroom.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\n\n'Alas!' cried Paul, 'what can be done to convince one half of Humanity\nthat it is really devoted to the higher pleasures and does not care for\nthe lower--at least nothing to speak of?' The poor man was in a state of\ndreadful perplexity, and felt wellnigh distracted. At last a light broke\nin on him. He remembered that as one of his most revered masters,\nProfessor Tyndall, had admitted, a great part of Humanity would always\nneed a religion, and that Virginia now had none. He at once rushed back\nto her. 'Ah!' he exclaimed, 'all is explained now. You cannot be in love\nwith me, for that would be unlawful passion. Unlawful passion is\nunreasonable, and unreasonable passion would quite upset a system of\npure reason, which is what exact thought shows us is soon going to\ngovern the world. No! the emotions that you fancy are directed to me are\nin reality cosmic emotion--in other words, are the reasonable religion\nof the future. I must now initiate you in its solemn and unspeakably\nsignificant worship.'\n\n'Religion!' exclaimed Virginia, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.\n'It is not kind of you to be making fun of me. There is no God, no soul,\nand no supernatural order, and above all there is no hell. How then can\nyou talk to me about religion?'\n\n'You,' replied Paul, 'are associating religion with theology, as indeed\nthe world hitherto always has done. But those two things, as Professor\nHuxley well observes, have absolutely nothing to do with each other. \"It\nmay be,\" says that great teacher, \"that the object of a man's religion\nis an ideal of sensual enjoyment, or----\"'\n\n'Ah!' cried Virginia, 'that is my religion, Paul.'\n\n'Nonsense!' replied Paul; 'that cannot be the religion of half Humanity,\nelse high, holy, solemn, awful morality would never be able to stand on\nits own basis. See, the night has fallen, the glorious moon has arisen,\nthe stupendous stars are sparkling in the firmament. Come down with me\nto the sea-shore, where we may be face to face with nature, and I will\nshow you then what true religion--what true worship is.'\n\nThe two went out together. They stood on the smooth sands, which\nglittered white and silvery in the dazzling moonlight All was hushed.\nThe gentle murmur of the trees, and the soft splash of the sea, seemed\nonly to make the silence audible. The Professor paused close beside\nVirginia, and took her hand. Virginia liked that, and thought that\nreligion without theology was not perhaps so bad after all. Meanwhile\nPaul had fixed his eyes on the moon. Then, in a voice almost broken with\nemotion, he whispered, 'The prayer of the man of science, it has been\nsaid, must be for the most part of the silent sort. He who said that was\nwrong. It need not be silent; it need only be inarticulate. I have\ndiscovered an audible and a reasonable liturgy which will give utterance\nto the full to the religion of exact thought. Let us both join our\nvoices, and let us croon at the moon.'\n\nThe Professor at once began a long, low howling. Virginia joined him,\nuntil she was out of breath.\n\n'Oh, Paul,' she said at last, 'is this more rational than the Lord's\nPrayer?'\n\n'Yes,' said the Professor, 'for we can analyse and comprehend that; but\ntrue religious feeling, as Professor Tyndall tells us, we can neither\nanalyse nor comprehend. See how big nature is, and how little--ah, how\nlittle!--we know about it. Is it not solemn, and sublime, and awful?\nCome let us howl again.'\n\nThe Professor's devotional fervour grew every moment. At last he put his\nhand to his mouth, and began hooting like an owl, till it seemed that\nall the island echoed to him. The louder Paul hooted and howled, the\nmore near did he draw to Virginia.\n\n'Ah!' he said, as he put his arm about her waist, 'it is in solemn\nmoments like this that the solidarity of mankind becomes apparent.'\n\nVirginia, during the last few moments, had stuck her fingers in her\nears. She now took them out, and, throwing her arms round Paul's neck,\ntried, with her cheek on his shoulder, to make another little hoot; but\nthe sound her lips formed was much more like a kiss. The power of\nreligion was at last too much for Paul.\n\n'For the sake of cosmic emotion,' he exclaimed, 'O other half of\nHumanity, and for the sake of rational religion, both of which are\nshowing themselves under quite a new light to me, I will kiss you.'\n\nThe Professor was bending down his face over her, when, as if by magic,\nhe started, stopped, and remained as one petrified. Amidst the sharp\nsilence, there rang a human shout from the rocks.\n\n'Oh!' shrieked Virginia, falling on her knees, 'it is a miracle! it is a\nmiracle! And I know--merciful heavens--I know the meaning of it. God is\nangry with us for pretending that we do not believe on Him.'\n\nThe Professor was as white as a sheet; but he struggled with his\nperturbation manfully.\n\n'It is not a miracle,' he cried, 'but an hallucination. It is an axiom\nwith exact thinkers that all proofs of the miraculous are\nhallucinations.'\n\n'See,' shrieked Virginia again, 'they are coming, they are coming. Do\nnot you see them?'\n\nPaul looked, and there sure enough, were two figures, a male and a\nfemale, advancing slowly towards them, across the moonlit sand.\n\n'It is nothing,' cried Paul; 'it cannot possibly be anything. I protest,\nin the name of science, that it is an optical delusion.'\n\nSuddenly the female figure exclaimed, 'Thank God, it is he!'\n\nIn another moment the male figure exclaimed, 'Thank God, it is she!'\n\n'My husband!' gasped Virginia.\n\n'My wife!' replied the bishop, for it was none other than he. 'Welcome\nto Chasuble Island. By the blessing of God it is on your own home you\nhave been wrecked, and you have been living in the very house that I had\nintended to prepare for you. Providentially, too, Professor Darnley's\nwife has called here, in her search for her husband, who has overstayed\nhis time. See, my love, my dove, my beauty, here is the monkey I\npromised you as a pet, which broke loose a few days ago, and which I was\nin the act of looking for when your joint cries attracted us, and we\nfound you.'\n\nA yell of delight here broke from the Professor. The eyes of the others\nwere turned on him, and he was seen embracing wildly a monkey which the\nbishop led by a chain. 'The missing link! he exclaimed, 'the missing\nlink!'\n\n'Nonsense!' cried the sharp tones of a lady with a green gown and grey\ncorkscrew curls. 'It is nothing but a monkey that the good bishop has\nbeen trying to tame for his wife. Don't you see her name engraved on\nthe collar?'\n\nThe shrill accents acted like a charm upon Paul. He sprang away from the\ncreature that he had been just caressing. He gazed for a moment on\nVirginia's lovely form, her exquisite toilette, and her melting eyes.\nThen he turned wildly to the green gown and the grey corkscrew curls.\nSorrow and superstition, he felt, were again invading Humanity. 'Alas!'\nhe exclaimed at last, 'I do now indeed believe in hell.'\n\n'And I,' cried Virginia, with much greater tact, and rushing into the\narms of her bishop, 'once more believe in heaven.'\n\n\n\n\nNOTES.\n\n\n'We now find it (_the earth_) not only swathed by an atmosphere, and\ncovered by a sea, but also crowded with living things. The question is,\nhow were they introduced?... The conclusion of science would undoubtedly\nbe, that the molten earth contained within it elements of life, which\ngrouped themselves into their present forms as the planet cooled. The\ndifficulty and reluctance encountered by this conception arise _solely_\nfrom the fact that the theologic conception obtained a prior footing in\nthe human mind.... Were not man's origin implicated, we should accept\nwithout a murmur the derivation of animal and vegetable life from what\nwe call inorganic nature. The conclusion of pure intellect points this\nway, and no other.' PROFESSOR TYNDALL.\n\n'Is this egg (_from which the human being springs_) matter? I hold it to\nbe so, as much as the seed of a fern or of an oak. Nine months go to\nthe making of it into a man. Are the additions made during this period\nof gestation drawn from matter? I think so, undoubtedly. If there be\nanything besides matter in the egg, or in the infant subsequently\nslumbering in the womb, what is it?' PROFESSOR TYNDALL.\n\n'Matter I define as the mysterious thing by which all this is\naccomplished.' PROFESSOR TYNDALL.\n\n'I do not think that the materialist is entitled to say that his\nmolecular groupings and motions explain everything. In reality, they\n_explain_ nothing. PROFESSOR TYNDALL.\n\n'Who shall exaggerate the deadly influence on personal morality of those\ntheologies which have represented the Deity ... as a sort of pedantic\ndrill-sergeant of mankind, to whom no valour, no long-tried loyalty,\ncould atone for the misplacement of a button of the uniform, or the\nmisunderstanding of a paragraph of the \"regulations and instructions\"?'\nPROFESSOR HUXLEY.\n\n'(_To the Jesuit imagination_) God is obviously a large individual, who\nholds the leading-strings of the universe, and orders its steps from a\nposition outside it all.... According to it (_this notion_) the Power\nwhom Goethe does not dare to name, and whom Gassendi and Clark Maxwell\npresent to us under the guise of a manufacturer of atoms, turns out\nannually, for England and Wales alone, a quarter of a million of new\nsouls. Taken in connection with the dictum of Mr. Carlyle, that this\nannual increment to our population are \"mostly fools,\" but little profit\nto the human heart seems derivable from this mode of regarding the\ndivine operations.... In the presence of this mystery (_the mystery of\nlife_) the notion of an atomic manufacturer and artificer of souls,\nraises the doubt whether those who entertain it were ever really\npenetrated by the solemnity of the problem for which they offer such a\nsolution.' PROFESSOR TYNDALL.\n\n'I look forward, however, to a time when the strength, insight, and\nelevation which now visit us in mere hints and glimpses, during moments\nof clearness and vigour, shall be the stable and permanent possession\nof purer and mightier minds than ours--purer and mightier, partly\nbecause of their deeper knowledge of matter, and their more faithful\nconformity to its laws.' PROFESSOR TYNDALL.\n\n'The world, as it is, is growing daily dimmer before my eyes. The world,\nas it is to be, is ever growing brighter.' HARRIET MARTINEAU.\n\n'... When you and I, like streaks of morning cloud, shall have melted\ninto the infinite azure of the past.' PROFESSOR TYNDALL.\n\n'We, too, turn our thoughts to that which is behind the veil. We strive\nto pierce its secret with eyes, we trust, as eager and as fearless, and\neven, it may be, more patient in searching for realities behind the\ngloom. That which shall come _after_ is no less solemn to us than to\nyou.' MR. FREDERIC HARRISON.\n\n'Theological hypotheses of a new and heterogeneous existence have\ndeadened our interest in the realities, the grandeur, and the perpetuity\nof an earthly life.' MR. FREDERIC HARRISON.\n\n'As we read, the calm and humane words of Condorcet, on the very edge of\nhis yawning grave, we learn, from the conviction of posthumous activity\n(not posthumous fame), how the consciousness of a living incorporation\nwith the glorious future of his race, can give a patience and happiness\nequal to that of any martyr of theology.... Once make it (_i.e._ \"this\nsense of posthumous participation in the life of our fellows\") the basis\nof philosophy, the standard of right and wrong, and the centre of a\nreligion, and this (_the conversion of the masses_) will prove, perhaps,\nan easier task than that of teaching Greeks and Romans, Syrians and\nMoors, to look forward to a life of ceaseless psalmody in an immaterial\nheaven.' MR. FREDERIC HARRISON.\n\n'We make the future life, in the truest sense, social, inasmuch as our\nfuture is simply an active existence prolonged by society; and our\nfuture life rests not in any vague yearning, of which we have as little\nevidence as we have definite conception: it rests on a perfectly certain\ntruth ... that the actions, feelings, thoughts, of each one of us, do\nmarvellously influence and mould each other.... Can we conceive a more\npotent stimulus to rectitude, to daily and hourly striving after a true\nlife, than this ever-present sense that we are indeed immortal; not that\nwe have an immortal something within us--but that in very truth we\nourselves, our thinking, feeling, acting personalities, are immortal?'\nMR. FREDERIC HARRISON.\n\n'As we _live for others_ in life, so we _live in others_ after death....\nHow deeply does such a belief as this bring home to each moment of life\nthe mysterious perpetuity of ourselves! For good, for evil, we cannot\ndie. We cannot shake ourselves free from this eternity of our\nfaculties.' MR. FREDERIC HARRISON.\n\n'We cannot even say that we shall continue to love; but we know that we\nshall be loved.' MR. FREDERIC HARRISON.\n\n'It is only when an earthly future is the fulfilment of a worthy earthly\nlife, that we can see the majesty, as well as the glory, of the world\nbeyond the grave; and then only will it fulfil its moral and religious\npurpose as the great guide of human conduct.' MR. FREDERIC HARRISON.\n\n'I am confident that a brighter day is coming for future generations.'\nHARRIET MARTINEAU.\n\n'The humblest life that ever turned a sod sends a wave--no, more than a\nwave, a life--through the evergrowing harmony of human society.' MR.\nFREDERIC HARRISON.\n\n'Not a single nature, in its entirety, but leaves its influence for good\nor for evil. _As a fact, the good prevail_.' MR. FREDERIC HARRISON.\n\n'To our friends and loved ones we shall give the most worthy honour and\ntribute if we never say nor remember that they are dead, but,\ncontrariwise, that they have lived; that hereby the brotherly force and\nflow of their action and work may be carried over the gulf of death, and\nmade immortal in the true and healthy life which they worthily had and\nused.' PROFESSOR CLIFFORD.\n\n'It cannot be doubted that the \"spiritual body\" of this book (_The\nUnseen Universe_) will be used to support a belief that the dead are\nsubject either to the _shame and suffering of a Christian Heaven_ and\nHell, or to the degrading service of a modern witch. From _each_ of\nthese _unspeakable profanities_ let us hope and endeavour that the\nmemories of great and worthy men may be finally relieved.' PROFESSOR\nCLIFFORD.\n\n'I choose the noble part of Emerson, when, after various\ndisenchantments, he exclaimed, \"I covet truth.\" The gladness of true\nheroism visits the heart of him who is really competent to say this.'\nPROFESSOR TYNDALL.\n\n'The highest, as it is the only, content is to be attained, not by\ngrovelling in the rank and steaming valleys of sense, but by continually\nstriving towards those high peaks, when, resting in eternal calm, reason\ndiscerns the undefined but bright ideal of the highest good--\"a cloud by\nday, a pillar of fire by night.\"' PROFESSOR HUXLEY.\n\n'If it can be shown by observation and experiment, that theft, murder,\nand adultery, do not tend to diminish the happiness of society, then, in\nthe absence of any but natural knowledge, they are not social\nimmoralities.' PROFESSOR HUXLEY.\n\n'For my own part, I do not for one moment admit that morality is not\nstrong enough to hold its own.' PROFESSOR HUXLEY.\n\n'I object to the very general use of the terms religion and theology, as\nif they were synonymous, or _indeed had anything whatever to do with one\nanother_.... Religion is an affair of the affections. It may be that the\nobject of a man's religion--the ideal which he worships--is an ideal of\nsensual enjoyment.' PROFESSOR HUXLEY.\n\n'In his hour of health ... when the pause of reflection has set in, the\nscientific investigator finds himself overshadowed with the same awe. It\nassociates him with a power which gives fulness and tone to his\nexistence, but which he can neither analyse nor comprehend.' PROFESSOR\nTYNDALL.\n\n'He will see what drivellers even men of strenuous intellects may\nbecome,' though exclusively dwelling and dealing with theological\nchimeras. PROFESSOR TYNDALL.\n\n'The two kinds of cosmic emotion run together and become one. The\nmicrocosm is viewed only in relation to human action, nature is\npresented to the emotions as the guide and teacher of humanity. And the\nmicrocosm is viewed only as tending to complete correspondence with the\nexternal; human conduct is subject for reverence only in so far as it is\nconsonant to the demiurgic law, in harmony with the teaching of divine\nNature.' PROFESSOR CLIFFORD.\n\n'The world will have religion of some kind, even though it should fly\nfor it to the intellectual whoredom of \"spiritualism.\"' PROFESSOR\nTYNDALL.\n\n'All positive methods of treating man, of a comprehensive kind, adopt to\nthe full all that has ever been said about the dignity of man's moral\nand spiritual life.... I do not confine my language to the philosophy or\nreligion of Comte; for the same conception of man is common to many\nphilosophies and many religions.' MR. FREDERIC HARRISON.","title":"The New Paul and Virginia; Or, Positivism on an Island","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":15222}