of immortality than with those other beliefs with which it thus finds
itself at variance? We have already seen that they are not: neither
the Monism of Mr. Picton nor that of Mr. Wells leaves any room for
personal survival--as is, indeed, only to be expected in accordance
with their premises; for if the individual as such does not really
exist, why should he persist? And from yet another monistic quarter we
are oracularly assured that we shall "one day know that the end of our
being is that it may _be submerged without reserve in the infinite
ocean of God_." Nothing could be more definite; nor, it must be
confessed, more utterly hopeless. To be "submerged without reserve" is
to cease from even the illusion of individuality; it is absorption,
Nirvana.

{220}

In taking up this position, in finally quenching

The hope whereto so passionately cling
The dreaming generations from of old,

the monist is merely true to his creed; we may, however, express a
preference that he should do so without religious circumlocutions--that
the verdict should be, as in the famous historical instance, "_la mort,
sans phrase_." When Mr. Wells says--

I do not believe I have any personal immortality. . . The experiment
will be over, the rinsed beaker returned to its shelf, the crystals
gone dissolving down the wastepipe--[1]

we know where we are, and feel thankful to the author for his
frankness; to talk about submersion in "the infinite ocean of God," on
the other hand, invests an idea which, nakedly stated, means
annihilation pure and simple, with a pseudo-religious air which is far
more subtly dangerous. Indeed, of the various expedients for
extinguishing men's faith in the life to come, this is probably the
most insidiously effective in use to-day; it is the silken
handkerchief, drenched with chloroform and held quite gently to the
victim's face--a lethal weapon in all but appearance. And there are
some who are attracted by the faint, cloying odour of this chloroform.

Before we examine this fashionable doctrine of absorption, however, it
may be well to deal {221} with certain other causes which between them
account for much of the uneasiness--often unavowed but nevertheless
very real--concerning a future life, which unquestionably is widely
felt in our day. All assertions to the contrary notwithstanding, it is
a case of uneasiness, and not of indifference; the bravado which
professes to give thanks to "whatever god