Short stories; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
“His personal influence over us, and the intoxicating flattery implied
in being seriously reasoned with on themes so lofty by a man whom we
so greatly admired, would have gone far, no doubt, to commend to us any
form of opinions he might have taught; but there were not lacking other
reasons to account for his success in converting us. As for Comte’s
dogmatic denial of superhuman existence, and his fanciful schemes of new
society, we were too young and crude to realize how unphilosophic
was the former, how impossible and undesirable was the latter. While
accepting them as facts of a new creed, they meant little to us, nor
did Régnier much insist upon them. What most he did insist on was the
ethical side of Positivism,--the idea of the essential unity of the
individual with the immortal race of man, and his obvious duty to forget
self in its service. What could be better adapted to affect generous and
impassioned boys than an appeal like this? The magnificent audacity
of it, the assumption of man’s essential nobleness, the contemptuous
refusal to make any terms with selfishness, captivated our imaginations.
I know now, indeed, that this enthusiasm of humanity, this passion of
self-abnegation, which I thought a new religion, was the heart of the
old religions. In its new-fangled disguise the truth and virtue of the
doctrine were still operative, and the emotional crisis through which
I passed I found was as essentially religious as it was in form
unorthodox.
“At the end of sophomore year there were a half-dozen very positive
young Positivists in our class. The pride of intellect which we felt in
our new enlightenment was intoxicating. To be able to look down from a
serene height, with compassion frequently tempered by contempt, upon the
rest of the world still groping in the mists of childish superstition,
was prodigiously to the taste of youths of eighteen and twenty. How, to
be sure, we did turn up our noses at the homely teachings in the college
chapel on Sundays! Well do I remember attending my father’s church when
at home on vacation, and endeavoring to assume the mental attitude of
a curious traveler in a Buddhist temple. Together with the intellectual
vanity which it fostered, our new faith was commended to us by its
flavor of the secret, the hazardous, and the forbidden. We were
delightfully conscious of being concerned in a species of conspiracy,
which if it came to light would convulse the college and the community,
have us expelled, and cause no end of scandal to the public.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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