CHAPTER V. THE CONFERENCE IN THE YEW TREE AVENUE. THE palace in a woody vale they found High raised of stone; a shaded space around: On thrones around with downy coverings graced, THE ODYSSEY, translated by Pope. THE verses we have quoted are admirably descriptive of that Kirkéan monster, a false Philosophy. Many are the guests whom this infamous en chantress has consigned to the same unutterable doom which overtook the followers of Ulysses, and from which their leader was rescued only by the virtues of the god-given moly. A change, however, has recently taken place in the policy of the goddess. Some time since her more astute advisers (remembering the wisdom of the serpent-'Eritis sicut Deus, scientes bonum et malum') ventured to remind her that the unvarying sequel to her banquets had already brought her into disrepute, and they suggested as a remedy that she also should have her store of moly-grow it in her kitchen garden, and serve it up at her feasts in such a way that her guests might eat of it or not at their pleasure. Should any fail to partake of it (they went on to observe) their unutterable doom would be attributed no longer to the goddess but to their own perversity, and thus her feasts might even in time become renowned as nice and delicate tests of character, serving to discriminate between the evil and the good. The goddess gladly took the insidious counsel, and the moly is now a well-known garnishment at all her banquets. Thus some of her guests manage to escape the unutterable transformation. Most of them, however, rise from table with a stunned and perplexed look, indicative of the struggle within them between the virtues of one thing and the poison of another. Dr. Stoffkraft, having eaten plentifully of the antidote, was not likely to become wholly the prey of the monster; but, poor moth, he had several times smartly singed himself in her deceitful flame. And with him the awakening from the delusion was ever as rude as it was certain. A few words from Stephen Fairbank on the previous day had opened his eyes to the absurdity of one at least of the opinions which he had been confidently because rashly parading; and he felt a sickening misgiving that the whole system might similarly crumble. Thus he was at the moment prepared to clutch at any support, rather than be deprived at once of all his laboriously-erected castles. After a sleepless night, he sought the garden about six o'clock. Frederick Fairbank was there before him, and he had a little book in his hand. Frederick Fairbank.-Well, Doctor, I feel even more strongly this morning than I did yesterday that they did not give you fair play. Dr. Hermann Stoffkraft.-How do you mean? Their arguments were quite fair; but I must confess they were more to the purpose than I expected from my adversaries. Frederick Fairbank.-But the arguments they used were not theirs! Dr. Hermann Stoffkraft.-You surprise me very much. I thought I had read almost every work on the subject, or at least that I knew the tenour of every argument that had been brought forward. Frederick Fairbank.-But of course you never thought of a modern English book on the subject? Dr. Hermann Stoffkraft.-No, certainly not. Has any Englishman written anything on these matters-from the genuine scientific side I mean? Frederick Fairbank.-An anonymous lot— evidently scientific men-have lately brought out a work with the very title, Unseen Universe, to which my father led you up yesterday. He and Bemerton have been reading and commenting on the book for some time, and for this reason, no doubt, they adroitly brought you to initiate a discussion of this very subject. Dr. Hermann Stoffkraft.-And have you seen the book? Frederick Fairbank.-Here it is! I have looked it through as critics do, sufficiently to be able to talk of it, not more. But you must read it carefully. Dr. Hermann Stoffkraft.-Of course I must read it. But this news is so unexpected that I hardly yet fully realise it. Englishmen attempting scientific speculation! What next? |