The Soldier and the Hunchback ! and ?

THE EQUINOX tration, vigilance—all these I include in the connotation of “sceptic.” Such questioning as has been called “vital scepticism” is but a device to avoid true questioning, and therefore its very antithesis, the devil disguised as an angel of light. [Or vice versd, friend, if you are a Satanist; ’tis a matter of words—words—words. You may write x for y in your equations, so long as you consistently write y for x. They remain unchanged—and unsolved. Is not all our “knowledge” an example of this fallacy of writing one unknown for another, and then crowing like Peter’s cock ?] I picture the true sceptic as a man eager and alert, his deep eyes glittering like sharp swords, his hands tense with effort as he asks, ‘‘ What does it matter?” I picture the false sceptic as a dude or popinjay, yawning, with dull eyes, his muscles limp, his purpose in asking the question but the expression of his slackness and stupidity. This true sceptic is indeed the man of science; as Wells’ “ Moreau ” tells us. He has devised some means of answering his first question, and its answer is another question. It is difficult to conceive of any question, indeed, whose answer does not imply a thousand further questions. So simple an inquiry as “Why is sugar sweet ?” involves an infinity of chemical researches, each leading ultimately to the blank wall—what is matter? and an infinity of physiological researches, each (similarly) leading to the blank wall—what is mind ? Even so, the relation between the two ideas is unthink- able; causality is itself unthinkable; it depends, for one thing, upon experience—and what, in God’s name, is experi- 114