faith has any place in their system. In this case, therefore, whatever
we may think of the other, it is plain that the tests in question are
altogether complete and final. To the Christians, indeed, it is quite
open to make their supposed shame their glory, and to say that their
heaven would be nothing _if_ describable. The positivists have bound
themselves to admit that theirs is nothing _unless_ describable.

What then, let us ask the enthusiasts of humanity, will humanity be like
in its ideally perfect state? Let them show us some sample of the
general future perfection; let them describe one of the nobler, ampler,
glorified human beings of the future. What will he be like? What will he
long for? What will he take pleasure in? How will he spend his days? How
will he make love? What will he laugh at? And let him be described in
phrases which _when pressed_ do not _evaporate in contradictions_, but
which have some _distinct meaning_, and _are not incompatible with exact
thought_. Do our exact thinkers in the least know what they are
prophesying? If not, what is the meaning of their prophecy? The
prophecies of the positive school are rigid scientific inferences; they
are that or nothing. And one cannot infer an event of whose nature one
is wholly ignorant.

Let these obvious questions be put to our positive moralists--these
questions they have themselves suggested, and the grotesque unreality of
this vague optimism will be at once apparent. Never was vagary of
mediæval faith so groundless as this. The Earthly Paradise that the
mediæval world believed in was not more mythical than the Earthly
Paradise believed in by our exact thinkers now; and George Eliot might
just as well start in a Cunard steamer to find the one, as send her
faith into the future to find the other.