"So the people imagine that the miracles were the work of churchmen?" I asked.
"Pooh, not now," he answered; "they did at first, and it was the rage arising out of this fancy that wiped out the Church as a political power; but, of course, the real death of the Church is not due to rage, but to unconcern and oblivion."
"Was it for this, then, that Aubrey Langler died?" I thought, "in order that the Church as a political power might be wiped out?" "But was there no moral reaction, Magee?" I asked: "Langler said that there would be, and another friend of mine that there would not."
"Which friend was that?" asked Magee.
"I may tell you and the world some day," I answered, "if he dies before me, but not at present."
"Well, whoever he is, he knows his modern Europe," said Magee. "I don't remember hearing of any moral reaction."
"But, then," said I, "is the Western world left now without any religion?"
"Never a bit," said he; "it is now just beginning to be gushingly religious. Haven't we, first of all, our store of hereditary religion, unconscious in us? And remember that 'the unconscious is the alone complete.' Religion, I suppose, is whatever binds us back from living to please our primary natural selves? Therefore religion of old said, 'live to please those about you'; and man has roughly reached to that, of old making society possible, now making it solid. But the evolution of 'live to please those about you,' is it not this: 'live to please those whom you cannot even see, the unborn'? All which you may hear Rivers say if you will come with me forthwith to church."
"Which church?" I asked.
"Why, Rivers'—or any of the others."