It seems to me
perfectly philosophical. Why should a man be thought a sort of
idiot because he feels the mystery and peril of existence itself?
Suppose, my dear Chadd, suppose it is we who are the idiots
because we are not afraid of devils in the dark?"
Professor Chadd slit open a page of the magazine with a bone
paper-knife and the intent reverence of the bibliophile.
"Beyond all question," he said, "it is a tenable hypothesis. I
allude to the hypothesis which I understand you to entertain, that
our civilization is not or may not be an advance upon, and indeed
(if I apprehend you), is or may be a retrogression from states
identical with or analogous to the state of the Zulus. Moreover, I
shall be inclined to concede that such a proposition is of the
nature, in some degree at least, of a primary proposition, and
cannot adequately be argued, in the same sense, I mean, that the
primary proposition of pessimism, or the primary proposition of the
non-existence of matter, cannot adequately be argued. But I do not
conceive you to be under the impression that you have demonstrated
anything more concerning this proposition than that it is tenable,
which, after all, amounts to little more than the statement that it
is not a contradiction in terms."
Basil threw a book at his head and took out a cigar.
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