means for ends; and there was a great deal more reason for saying it.  After all, granted the supernatural, Religious Houses are an obvious consequence; but the object of secular education is presumably the production of something visible—­either character or competence; and it became quite impossible to prove that the Universities produced either—­which was worth having.  The distinction between [Greek:  ou] and [Greek:  me] is not an end in itself; and the kind of person produced by its study was not one which appealed to England in the twentieth century.  I am not sure that it appealed even to me much (and I was always a strong Individualist)—­except by way of pathos—–­”

“Yes?” said Percy.

“Oh, it was pathetic enough.  The Science Schools of Cambridge and the Colonial Department of Oxford were the last hope; and then those went.  The old dons crept about with their books, but nobody wanted them—­they were too purely theoretical; some drifted into the poorhouses, first or second grade; some were taken care of by charitable clergymen; there was that attempt to concentrate in Dublin; but it failed, and people soon forgot them.  The buildings, as you know, were used for all kinds of things.  Oxford became an engineering establishment for a while, and Cambridge a kind of Government laboratory.  I was at King’s College, you know.  Of course it was all as horrible as it could be—­though I am glad they kept the chapel open even as a museum.  It was not nice to see the chantries filled with anatomical specimens.  However, I don’t think it was much worse than keeping stoves and surplices in them.”

“What happened to you?”

“Oh!  I was in Parliament very soon; and I had a little money of my own, too.  But it was very hard on some of them; they had little pensions, at least all who were past work.  And yet, I don’t know:  I suppose it had to come.  They were very little more than picturesque survivals, you know; and had not even the grace of a religious faith about them.”

Percy sighed again, looking at the humorously reminiscent face of the old man.  Then he suddenly changed the subject again.

“What about this European parliament?” he said.

The old man started.

“Oh!...  I think it will pass,” he said, “if a man can be found to push it.  All this last century has been leading up to it, as you see.  Patriotism has been dying fast; but it ought to have died, like slavery and so forth, under the influence of the Catholic Church.  As it is, the work has been done without the Church; and the result is that the world is beginning to range itself against us:  it is an organised antagonism—­ a kind of Catholic anti-Church.  Democracy has done what the Divine Monarchy should have done.  If the proposal passes I think we may expect something like persecution once more....  But, again, the Eastern invasion may save us, if it comes off....  I do not know....”

Percy sat still yet a moment; then he stood up suddenly.