ll hope of having them satisfied. If,
however, all he means is that the badness of some parts does not
prevent his acceptance of a universe whose _other_ parts give him
satisfaction, I welcome him as an ally. He has abandoned the notion of
the _Whole_, which is the essence of deterministic monism, and views
things as a pluralism, just as I do in this paper.

[7] Compare Sir James Stephen's Essays by a Barrister, London, 1862,
pp. 138, 318.

[8] Cet univers est un spectacle que Dieu se donne a lui-meme. Servons
les intentions du grand chorege en contribuant a rendre le spectacle
aussi brillant, aussi varie que possible.--RENAN.

[9] The burden, for example, of seeing to it that the _end_ of all our
righteousness be some positive universal gain.

[10] This of course leaves the creative mind subject to the law of
time. And to any one who insists on the timelessness of that mind I
have no reply to make. A mind to whom all time is simultaneously
present must see all things under the form of actuality, or under some
form to us unknown. If he thinks certain moments as ambiguous in their
content while future, he must simultaneously know how the ambiguity
will have been decided when they are past. So that none of his mental
judgments can possibly be called hypothetical, and his world is one
from which chance is excluded. Is not, however, the timeless mind
rather a gratuitous fiction? And is not the notion of eternity being
given at a stroke to omniscience only just another way of whacking upon
us the block-universe, and of denying that possibilities exist?--just
the point to be proved. To say that time is an illusory appearance is
only a roundabout manner of saying there is no real plurality, and that
the frame of things is an absolute unit. Admit plurality, and time may
be its form.

[11] And this of course means 'miraculous' interposition, but not
necessarily of the gross sort our fathers took such delight in
representing, and which has so lost its magic for us. Emerson quotes
some Eastern sage as saying that if evil were really done under the
sun, the sky would incontinently shrivel to a snakeskin and cast it out
in spasms. But, says Emerson, the spasms of Nature are years and
centuries; and it will tax man's patience to wait so long. We may
think of the reserved possibilities God keeps in his own hand, under as
invisible and molecular and slowly self-summating a form as we please.
We may think of them as