one to come in to you, but you can allure the masses of mankind by a direct yet a religious appeal—religious in the highest sense of the word,—to the most universal and ineradicable of its affections and passions.’
‘A splendid dream, Mr Bristley,’ observed the cardinal, who by this time had recovered himself, ‘but can it ever be realised? Have the masses got it in them to be trained up to such a lofty view and use of their natural inclinations? Can they ever, think you, be brought to comprehend your Divine Order? Will they ever ennoble their loves and desires very far above the amours of the beasts of the field or the dogs of the street? I doubt it.’
‘Then to what purpose is religion—Catholic or other—professed and taught?’ rejoined the other. ‘Is it not altogether a gigantic waste of human time and energy? If religion cannot ennoble our passions, what can it do? It cumbers the earth. But whether it is to exist as an encumbrance or as a treasure, you may be sure of this, Cardinal Power, that if the rising generation accepts any religion at all, it will be one founded upon its desires and hopes, not upon its fears. Hell and purgatory are scouted; heaven may be believed in, if it is made attractive.’
‘A heaven of black-eyed houris, like the Mussulman’s,’ observed the cardinal, smiling.
‘No; because those do not keep Divine Order. But, anyhow, you must lead the rising generation how you can, not how you would like. It may be led; it will not be driven.’
‘Then Divine Order, as you read it, bids the Church face right about, and proclaim that the very propensities in mankind which heretofore she has most striven to combat, must henceforward be relied upon as her main resource.’
‘Subject to Divine Order, yes, Cardinal Power. You
