Moreover, far too Tittle. attention has been paid tothe fact that, in almost all the attempts to discover the naked reality behind the many-coloured vell of the world in which we live and move, there is" with every step a descent. to something that is really less significant. than that world, Tt is eternally true, in sense that metaphysicians have act yet grasped, that the unseen things of God re only to be epprehended through the seen. 'The philosophical attempt to' get. behind the scones of the universe has not Jed us to the secret of the dram or to the mind of the dramatic! but only to some very dark and dusty corners. With every step there has been a thinning out, dis" solution, not only of the solid world "natvg realism," but also of all 8 that give it meane It is a process closely analogous to that by which some of the cruder evolutionists attempted to explain the greater by the less through infinitely diminish Ing stages; and, after tracing Shakespeare and Beethoven back to fan entirely satisfactory explanation in a jellyfish, affirmed that one day they hoped fo bridge the gulf he-tavern something and nothing.
In imagination, for instance, we may magnify the human body to the Immense scale on which it would appear (like the vest of the material world) to be composed of planetary systems of electrons and protons. We can dimly visualize it as 8 kind of Milky Way, with vast sults of space between its conitellations, But we have lost " som thing in this analysis that is. ex; pressed in -every human counten fnce, a higher reality that the great artist can give us even df we cannot discover if for ourselves. And what are we to say of those myatorfous powers of intelligence and will whereby grent sections of that vast system of constellations are lifted and dropped when the limbs of that magnified body are moved? Where do those powers reside? Is it in a few specially grouped constellations, in the spnees between then? When the human countenance ¢xpreases love (as it does sometime would it be rapressented by am cement in those vast starry spaces, and should we be justified in speak: ug then also of "the Tave that moves the sum: and the other stars"? All these attempts are in the wrong direction.
Tt is not through analysis that we cin find reality. The reality that ives us an explanation of th world we know is not to be found along that diminishing road, Tt fis not behind us or below us, Dut in front of us and above us. ' The explanation of evolution is to be Found, if anywhere, in the end to which it is moving, for the besinning cannot be less than that end. Thowgh the physicist has his own tusk to perform, it is the synthesis fof great art that comes nearest to 'a revelation of the ulimate significance of things; and, in this, rear art is at one with religion. {eis for this reason that we all, in our heart of hearts, feel that the common-sense folk, upon whom Bir. Russell, like the ' Into Professor Bradley, says very superior things, are often fur nearer in their "naive redism" about the world they live (the world of flowers and human faces and love and grief), far nenrer than any philosopher fo the real truth and the living God. On that "native realism"-—the phrase revelation of intellectual brid every act and thought and law of cor daily human life are based; and, for the fully developed mind and soul, confronted by the ultimate and insoluble mystery of that Reality which is, suiicient to itself and to all that has arisen from it, there a far profounder philosophy than tony mathematics cun express fathom in the ery "O. sulutaris hestia, quae coeli pandle actium,
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.