slow, cold, somber light through the shallow sentiment that had been screening some disconcerting depths.
It is true, he says, that the Chillinglys come from a remote race, but length of tenure has meant only so much more inanity.[1]
"They were born to eat as long as they could eat, and when
they could eat no longer they died. Not that in this respect
they were a whit less insignificant than the generality of their
fellow creatures."
He reminds his gaping, rural audience that man merely
represents a stage in the course of evolution.[2]
"The probability is that, some day or other, we shall be exterminated
by a new development of species."
He goes on ruthlessly to assert that, contrary to the popular
belief, his father was not a good landlord, because
he was too indulgent to the individual and too heedless
of national welfare, ignoring the highest duty of the employer,
maximum production through competitive examination.
As to his own college record:[3]
"Some of the most useless persons—especially narrow-minded
and bigoted—have acquired far higher honours at the
university than have fallen to my lot."
And then, after a brilliant Schopenhauerish conclusion, he
drinks to their very good healths.
Thus launched, the meditative young man continues in a career of ironic candor, although he learns later the wisdom of being candid only with oneself at times, and less communicative to others; as for instance when he soliloquizes on a request by farmer Saunderson:[4]*
