The French sage who has recently died, Anatole France, whom, as the head of French letters, Mr. Wells, as the spokesman of the English-speaking world, salutes in one of these articles—Anatole France, after a measurably comprehensive survey of humanity, turned away smiling, and said:
Yes, evil is immortal. The genius in which the old theology incarnates it, Satan, will survive the last man, and will remain alone, seated, his wings folded, upon the débris of extinct worlds. And we have not even the right to desire the death of Satan. A high philosophy will not groan at the eternity of universal evil. It will recognize, on the contrary, that evil is necessary and that it ought to endure; for, without it, man would have nothing to do in this world.
There are always, aren't there, plenty of men who see the indispensability of Satan and who mock the heat of those who attempt to dislodge him?
I suppose few men now living have striven more comprehensively than Mr. Wells to understand the whole meaning of the world and the world's needs, and to put fine meanings and purposes into the world where he saw none. He has grown sage with disillusions, and has relinquished many projects and withdrawn from many experiments. He turns more and more, as all wise men do, from the expectation of reforming nations to the hope of educating a few individuals. But to leave Satan sitting "alone" there, after the death of the last man, upon the débris of extinct worlds?—no, he can never assent to that! Opposite him Something Else will be sitting, with unsheathed sword, breathing for a moment in the pause of the eternal combat.
