beings, nay, even of those beings half endowed with
life, that we call rivers and seas and stars, and thrown back on the
conquered, yet passive forces of chemical, inorganic and lifeless
Nature, which is separated from man by too deep a chasm to exercise on
him any action from the social point of view. The problem was to learn
what this humanity would do when restricted to man, and obliged to
extract from its own resources, if not its food supplies, yet at least
all its pleasures, all its occupations, all its creative inspirations.
The answer has been given, and we have realised at the same time what an
unsuspected drag the terrestrial fauna and flora had hitherto been on
the progress of humanity.

[1] In appearance only: we must not forget that in accordance
with all probability many extinct stars must have served as the scene of
this normal and necessary phase of social life.

At first human pride and the faith of man in himself hitherto held in
check by the constant presence, by the profound sense of the superiority
of the forces round it, rebounded with a force of elasticity really
appalling. We are a race of Titans. But, at the same time, whatever
enervating element there might have been in the air of our grottoes has
been thereby victoriously combated. Otherwise our air is the purest that
man has ever breathed; all the bad germs with which the atmosphere was
loaded were killed by the cold. Far from being attacked by anaemia as
some predicted, we live in a state of habitual excitement maintained by
the multiplicity of our relations and of our "social tonics" (friendly
shakes of the hand, talks, meetings with charming women, etc.). With a
certain number among us it passes into a state of unintermittent
delirium under the name of Troglodytic fever. This new malady, whose
microbe has not yet been discovered, was unknown to our forefathers,
thanks perhaps to the stupefying (or soothing, if you prefer it)
influence of natural and rural distractions. Rural! what a strange
anachronism! Fishermen, hunters, ploughmen, and shepherds--do we really
understand to-day the meaning of these words? Have we for a moment
reflected on the life of that fossil creature who is so frequently
mentioned in books of ancient history and who was called the peasant?
The habitual society of this curious creature which comprised half or
three-quarters of the population was not man, but four-footed beasts,
pot herbs and green crops, which, owing