ngs which it does not understand, and which cannot be understood,
and offers us detailed descriptions of countries into which it has
never traveled, and where mankind probably never will travel."
"May I say a word in defence of your metaphysics?" said Dorfling, with
a slight smile.
"Yes, go on," cried Barinskoi. He had drunk more than all the rest put
together, and the serious conversation seemed to afford him great
amusement.
"Look here, Eynhardt. I cannot possibly uphold your statement that
metaphysics do not contain a spark of objective truth. To be certain of
that, one must also be certain what objective truth is. But you are not
certain, as you very well know, and so logically you must admit the
possibility that metaphysics can hold a spark of objective truth. I am
of an entirely different opinion on this point. I believe that the
science of the actual content of things, the foundation of all
appearances, the laws of the universe, in short, everything which you
call objective truth, is the property peculiar to the atoms, of which
the world formerly existed. Absolute science, I say, is inherent
matter, like motion and gravitation. Matter does not learn of them, it
possesses them. A cell has not studied chemistry, but with unfailing
accuracy it executes its wonderful chemical operations. Water knows
nothing of physics and mathematics, but it flows from the spring, just
as high as the laws of hydraulic pressure command."
"Bravo," interrupted Mayboom, "that explains at last something I never
understood; and that is, why a flower pot should fall off a window
straight on the heads of people in the street, with unfailing accuracy."
"Please, Mayboom, no bad jokes to-day," said Dorfling gently.
The comic song writer sighed and again sank into deep thought, and the
philosopher went on:
"The science of truth, to which every atom adheres, dwells in men. We
must not forget that man is a collection of countless millions of
atoms; the collected consciousness of mankind can know just as much of
what each atom knows, as a whole people can understand of Greek or
Sanscrit because one or other of its members can read those languages.
Only through intercommunication can the knowledge of the few become the
knowledge of the many. The development of the living being I regard in
this way, that the atoms at first only hang loosely, gradually becoming
more closely knit together, until they make a substantial organism. The
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