“No, I will not explain; you only mean to make fun of it, and there is nothing to laugh at.  What I am trying to show you is that side of the religion you will really approve—­the unanthropomorphic side.  It is not anything like atheism, you know, as some ill-natured people have said; it does not declare there is no God; it only declares that it is worse than useless to try and think of Him, far less pray to Him—­because it is simply impossible.  And that is quite scientific and philosophical, is it not?  For all the great men are agreed now that the conditioned can know nothing of the unconditioned, and the finite can know nothing of the infinite.  It is quite absurd to try, you know; and it is equally absurd to say anything about Him.  You can’t call Him Providence, because, as the universe is governed by fixed laws, there is nothing for him to provide; and we have no business to call Him Creator, because we don’t really know that things were created.  Besides,” said Mrs. Molyneux, resuming her fan, which she furled and unfurled as she continued, “I was reading in a delightful book the other day—­I can’t remember the author’s name, but I think it begins with K or P. It explained so clearly that if the universe was created at all, it was created by the human mind.  Then you can’t call Him Father—­it is quite blasphemous; and it is almost as bad to say He is merciful or loving, or anything of that kind, because mercy and love are only human attributes; and so is consciousness too, therefore we know He cannot be conscious; and I believe, according to the highest philosophical teaching, He has not any Being.  So that altogether it is impossible, without being irreverent, to think of Him, far less speak to Him or of Him, because we cannot do so without ascribing to Him some conceivable quality—­and He has not any.  Indeed, even to speak of Him as He is not right; the pronoun is very anthropomorphic and misleading.  So, when you come to consider all this carefully, it is quite evident—­though it sounds rather strange at first—­that the only way you can really honour and reverence God is by forgetting Him altogether.”

Here Mrs. Molyneux paused, panting prettily for breath; but quickly recovering herself, proceeded:  “So in fact, it is just the same, practically speaking—­remember I say only practically speaking—­as if there were no God; and this religion—­”

“Excuse me,” said Atherley; “but if, as you have so forcibly explained to us, there is, practically speaking, no God, why should we hamper ourselves with any religion at all?”

“Why, to satisfy the universal craving after an ideal; the yearning for something beyond the sordid realities of animal existence and of daily life; to comfort, to elevate—­”