All over England his life's thought, his constant programme had been gloriously vindicated. They had hailed him as the prophet of Truth at first--a prophet who had cried in the wilderness for years, and who had at last come into his own. The voices of great men and vast multitudes had come to him as incense. He was to be the leader of the new religion of common sense. Why had they doubted him before, led away by the old superstitions? Men who had hated and feared him in the old days, had spoken against him and his doctrines as if both were abhorred and unclean, were his friends and servants now. Christians had humbled themselves to the representative of the new power. Bishops had consulted him as to the saving of the Church, and its reconstruction upon "newer, broader, more illuminated lines." They had come to him with fear--anxious, eager to confess the errors of the past, swift to flatter and suggest that, with his help, the fabric and political power of the Church might yet stand. He was shown, with furtive eyes and hesitating lips, from which the shame had not yet been cleansed, how desirable and necessary it was that in the reconstruction of Christianity the Church should still have a prominent and influential part. He had been a colossus among them all. But--and he thought of it with anger and the old amazement--all this had been _at first_, when the discovery had flashed over a startled world. While the thing was new it had been a great question, truly the greatest of all, but it had been one which affected men's minds and not their bodies. That is speaking of the world at large. As has already been pointed out, only _religious_ people--a vast host, but small beside the mass of Englishmen--were disturbed seriously by what had happened. The price of bread remained the same; beef was no dearer. During these first weeks Schuabe had been all-powerful. He and his friends had lived in a constant and stupendous triumph. But now--and in his frightful egoism he frowned at the thick black head-lines in the newspapers--the whole attitude of every one was changed. There was a reflex action, and in the noise it made Schuabe was forgotten. Men had more to think of now. There was no time to congratulate the man who had been so splendidly right. _Consols were at 65!_ Bread was rising each week. War was imminent. On all sides great mercantile houses were crashing. Each fall meant a thousand minor catastrophes all over the country. The antichristians had no time to jeer at the Faithful; they must work and strain to save their own fortunes from the wreck. The mob, who were swiftly bereft of the luxuries which kept them in good-humour, were turning on the antichristian party now. In their blind, selfish unreason they cried them down, saying that they were responsible for the misery and terror that lay over the world.