Yes! there is a future for all true workers! Labor, then, steadfastly; labor trustfully, poor children of earth; the good time cometh—the reward is sure!
To Be Continued.
Pantheism Examined From The Ontological Point Of View— The Infinite— Idea Of The Infinite According To The Pantheist.
The infinite of the pantheist issomethingstripped of subsistence, limits, determinations, definiteness, qualities, or quantity; it is devoid of all consciousness, intelligence, will, individuality; it is something hanging between reality and unreality, bordering on possibility and existence; it is not altogether actual, nor entirely possible, but that which isin fieri, or becoming; in a word, that which is both being and nothing. It is pure, unalloyed abstraction, without a mind which makes the abstraction.
We acknowledge that pantheists do not all express themselves in the above manner with regard to the infinite; but, if we strip their systems of their various forms, all agree in presenting the same idea.
Whether, with the materialistic pantheists of old, we call the infinite a common principle or seed of liquid nature, from which everything sprang up, and which is the substratum of everything; or whether we call it theprimitive number, with the Pythagoreans; or we like to exhibit it as the firstunityormonas, with Plotinus and the Neoplatonists; or we look upon it as theinfinite substanceof Spinoza; or finally, with the Germans, we prefer to call it theegoor theabsolute identity, or theideal-being; or theimpersonal reason, with Cousin—all converge into this idea, that the infinite is something indeterminate, unconscious, impersonal; which, by an interior necessity, is impelled to unfold and develop itself, assuming all kinds of limitations and forms; and thus, from being undefined, indeterminate, abstract, it becomes real, defined, determinate, concrete; from being one, it becomes multiple. The genesis of creation in all its components, and the history of mankind, are the successive unfolding and realization of the infinite in a progressive scale. For, in its necessary development, it becomes matter, organism, sense; and in man it acquires intellect with the consciousness of itself. Here commence all the phases of the development of man recorded in history: phases of a progressive civilization, which are but necessary unfoldings and modifications of the infinite; and which will go on progressing perpetually, to what end, or for how long, pantheists and progressists are unable to determine.
By means of this theory of the infinite, they endeavor to reconcile reality with the ontological ideas of being, the infinite, substance, and the absolute. For they reason thus: The idea of being is essentially universal, and as such it must embrace all reality, and therefore it can be but one. The same must be said of the idea of the infinite. This comprehends everything, and therefore absorbs everything.
The reader can easily see, from what we have thus far said, that the first problem which pantheism raises and which is to be solved, is the following: What is the nature of the infinite? We accept the problem, and shall discuss it by making the following inquiries.
1. Does the idea which pantheism gives of the infinite really resolve the problem?
2. What is the true solution of the problem?
With regard to the first inquiry we answer that the idea of the infinite, as given by the pantheists, when well examined, leads to one of two different conclusions:
1. Either it is the idea of finite being, and consequently requiring the existence of an infinite being as its origin.
2. Or, it is the idea of a mere abstraction, an absolute nonentity, and hence leading to absolute nihilism. In both cases pantheism, instead of resolving the problem, destroys it. We shall endeavor to prove both these propositions, assuming as granted that the principles of pantheism are these two:
1. The infinite is that the essence of which lies in becoming.
2. It becomes multiplicity, that is matter, organism, animality, etc., by a necessary interior movement.
The pantheistic idea of the infinite leads either to the idea of God given by the Catholic Church, or to absolute nihilism. Proven by the first principle of the pantheists.
Before entering upon the proof, we must lay down a few truths of ontology which are metaphysically certain.
First Principle. Being and actuality are one and the same thing.
The proof of this principle lies in the explanation of what actuality really means. Now, actuality is one of those ideas, called by logicians simple ideas, and which cannot be defined. We shall endeavor to explain it as follows.
Actuality is but a relation of our mind. When we think of a being, not as yet existing, but against the existence of which we see neither an interior nor an exterior reason, we call it possible being; and the perception of all this, in our mind, we call the perception of thepossibilityof a being.
But when we think of the being, not as possible, but as having, so to speak, travelled from possibility to real existence, we call that beingactual; and the perception of the mind, the perception of the actuality of a being.
It is evident that actuality adds nothing to being, beyond a mere relation of our mind, which, comparing the being, as really existing, with its possibility, calls itactual; because it is existence in act, in contradistinction to possibility, which is power or potentiality.
Actuality, then, and being or reality are one and the same thing.
Second Principle. Actuality and duration are one and the same thing.
An act or being which does not last, not even one instant, is nothing; because our mind cannot conceive a being to exist, and have no duration whatever. Therefore an act or being necessarily implies duration, and they are therefore one and the same thing.
But it will be remarked: Are there no transitory acts? Do not all philosophers admit the existence of acts which are continually changing?
We answer, What is meant by a transitory act? Does it mean something which is continually changing, so much so that none of its elements has any duration whatever, not even for an instant; or does it mean that the parts or moments, if we may call them so, are in a state of continual transition? In both cases such acts do not and cannot exist.
Before demonstrating this, we observe that it was the ancient Italian school of Elea which, before every other school, raised the problem of transient acts, pointed out the great difficulty which existed in explaining their nature, and demonstrated the impossibility of their existence. To render the demonstration clear, we remark that a transient act may mean either one of two things: an act which is composed of different parts, each in continual transition; or an act which has a beginning, and, after a certain duration, also an end. We admit the existence of such acts in the second sense and not in the first. For if an act continually changes, none of the states which it successively assumes have any duration whatever. Otherwise it would no longer be a transient act in the first sense. But that which has no duration at all cannot be considered to exist. Therefore an act really transient cannot exist. What then is a transient act? We have seen that it supposes something standing or lasting. But what lasts is immanent, that is, has duration. Therefore a transient act can only be the beginning or end of an immanent act, or, in other words, the beginning or end of duration. To illustrate this doctrine by an example: suppose I wish to draw a line on this paper. If all the points, of which the line is to be composed, were to disappear the very instant I am drawing them, it is evident I should never have a line. Likewise, if all the states, which a transient act assumes, are supposed to have no duration whatever, the act also can have no duration, and hence no existence. A transient act, then, is the beginning or end of an immanent act.
Having laid down the foregoing propositions, we come to the discussion of the pantheistic idea of the infinite.
What, according to pantheism, is the idea of the infinite? Something the essence of which consists in becoming, in being made, infieri. Now, we reason thus: a being the essence of which lies in becoming means either an act permanent and lasting, capable of changes, or it means something the essential elements of which are continually changing, and have, therefore, no duration whatever. If the last supposition be accepted as describing the pantheistic idea of the infinite, then the infinite is a sheer absurdity, an absolute nonentity. For, in this case, the infinite would be a transient act, in the sense that its essential elements are continually changing, and have no duration whatever. Now such acts are absolutely inconceivable. The mind may put forth its utmost efforts to form an idea of them, yet it will ever be utterly at a loss to conceive anything about them.
Pantheism, on this supposition, would start from absolute nihilism, to build up the existence of everything. On the other hand, if the second supposition be admitted, that the infinite is a permanent being, capable of changes and developments, then it is a transient act in the second sense, that is, the beginning or end of an immanent act; in which case we object to its being self-existing, and insist that it leads to the admission of the idea of the infinite as given by the Catholic Church. We demonstrate this from the ontological idea of immanent and transient acts.
If there be transient acts, there must also be immanent acts, because transient acts are the beginning or end of immanent acts. But no immanent act can be the cause of its end, because no act could be the cause of its cessation; nor can an immanent act be the cause of its own beginning, since in that case it would act before it existed.
It follows, then, that an immanent act cannot be the cause either of its beginning or of its end. But a transient act, that is, the beginning or end of an immanent act, must have a cause, by the principle of causality. If, then, the transient act is not caused by the immanent act, of which it is either the beginning or the end, it must be caused by another immanent act.
Now this immanent act, which causes the transient act, has either itself a beginning, in which case it would be preceded by a transient act, or it has no beginning at all, and consequently can have no end.
If it be caused by a transient act, we should be obliged to admit another immanent act; and, if we do not wish to admit an infinite series of causes, (which would by no means resolve the difficulty, but only increase it,) we must finally stop at an immanent act which has neither beginning nor end.
If it be not caused by a transient act, then we have already what we seek for; an act without beginning or end.
But, the infinite of the pantheists, if it be not a mere abstraction, an absolute nonentity, is a transient act.
Therefore, it leads to the admission of a purely immanent act. We present the same demonstration in another form, to make it more intelligible.
A transient act is the beginning or cessation of an immmanent act.
Now, this beginning or cessation must have a cause, by the principle of causality. What can the cause be? It cannot be the same immanent act, of which the transient act is either the beginning or the end. Because, if the immanent act were the cause of its beginning, it would act before its existence; and if it were the cause of its end, its action would be simultaneous with its destruction or extinction, which is a contradiction in terms. On the other hand, it cannot be a transient act, because thisitselfmust have a cause. Nor can it be another immanent act, which has a beginning or end; for in that case it would be a transient act. Therefore, it must be a purely immanent act, without beginning or end. In short, a self-existing transient act, such as the infinite of the pantheists, is an absurdity, because this denotes an act which gives itself a beginning, or which gives itself an end. This beginning or end must be given it by another. Now, this second is either a purely immanent act, without beginning or end, or it has had a beginning, and may have an end. In the first supposition we have the Catholic idea of God. In the second we may multiply these causesad infinitum, and thus increasead infinitumthe necessity of the existence of God to explain those existences.
We pass to the examination of the second leading principle of pantheism, which is thus expressed. The infinite, by a necessary interior movement, becomes multiple.
How is this to be understood? If the infinite of the pantheists, by a necessary interior movement, unfolds itself, and becomes multiple, it follows that it is the cause of transient acts. Our mind can attach no other signification to that principle, beyond that of an immanent act, producing transient acts. Now the question arises, Is this ontologically possible? We insist that it is not, and lay down the following proposition: No being, which moves or unfolds itself, that is, which performs transient acts, can do so by its own unaided energy; but requires the aid of another being, different from itself.
An immanent act which produces a transient one does so either by an eternal act, also immanent, and in that case it cannot be the subject of the transient act produced; or it produces a transient act of which it is the subject—so much so that the transient act is its own act, as, for instance, the act by which a sensitive being feels a new sensation, or the act by which an intelligent being begets a thought, are transient acts, the one of the sensitive principle, the other of the rational being. These transient acts modify the subject which produces them, and effect a change in it.
Now, in the first case, if an immanent act which produces transient acts is eternal in duration, these cannot terminate in the subject, by the supposition. For, if the transient act were laid inside the permanent act, it would be its cessation, and in that case the act would no longer be eternal according to the supposition.
In the second place, if an immanent act becomes the subject of transient acts, or, in other words, modifies itself, a sufficient reason must be given, a cause of such modification, by the principle of causality. Why does it modify itself? What is the cause of such a change? The being or subject, or immanent act, does not contain the sufficient cause of the modification or change; because if it contained it, the act produced would be permanent, and not transient, that is, it would have always been in the immanent act. For it is a principle of ontology of immediate evidence that, given thefullcause, the effect follows. Now the immanent act in questionwasbefore the transient act existed; therefore, the immanent act is not full and sufficient cause of the transient act which modifies it. If it is not the full and sufficient cause of its modification, it cannot modify itself without the aid of exterior being. Now, this exterior being cannot be supposed to be of the same nature with the act in question, otherwise it would itself require aid. Therefore, it must be a being which does it by an eternal immanent act; and that Being is theInfiniteof Catholic philosophy.
Apply this demonstration to the second principle of pantheism, that the infinite, by a necessary interior movement, unfolds and develops itself, or modifies itself, it is evident that this second principle, like the first, is ontologically impossible; that the infinite must either be purely, simply, and eternally actual, or it cannot develop itself without the aid of another being of a different nature; consequently that the second pantheistic principle is nothing else but the idea of finite being perfecting itself by the aid of the Infinite of Catholic philosophy.
In order that this conclusion may appear more evident, we subjoin another argument, more adapted to the comprehension of most readers.
According to the pantheistic hypothesis, the infinite, by a necessary interior action, is forced to expand, to develop itself. Now, we want to show that this it cannot do by its unaided energy. We prove it thus: This action of the infinite is a movement; we make use of the word movement in its widest signification, as meaning any action whatever. Now, this movement either existed always in the infinite or it had a beginning. In the system of the pantheists it has a beginning, because they hold that the infinite successively assumes different forms. There was then a time in which it did not move. Then the infinite had only the power, and not the act of moving; and when itdidmove, it passed from the power to the act.
It will not do for the pantheist to endeavor to avoid this conclusion by saying that the movement of the infinite is eternal. Conceding that the movement is eternal, we ask, is the action only one, or is it multiple? In other words, is the full intensity of its energy concentrated in one movement, or is it divided? The pantheist cannot, in force of his system, admit that the whole intensity of its energy is concentrated in a single movement; otherwise, the successive unfoldings were impossible; the unfolding would be instantaneous, and not successive.
The infinite, then, in its successive unfoldings, passes from the power to the act. Now, it is an ontological principle, as evident as any axiom of Euclid, that no being can pass from the power to the act, from quiet to movement, but by the aid of another being already in act. For power is, in relation to action, as rest is to movement. If the being is in rest, it cannot be in movement; if, on the contrary, it is in movement, it cannot be in rest. Likewise, if the being is supposed to act, it cannot, at the same time, be supposed to be in potentiality. A being in power and action, with regard to the same effects, is as much a contradiction as a being in rest and motion at the same time. To make this more intelligible, let us take an instance. Suppose the seed of a tree, say of a lemon: this seed is in potentiality to become a lemon. But it could never of itself become a lemon; because, if it could, it were already a lemon; it were a lemon, not in power only, but in act. To become a lemon it must be buried in the earth, it must go through the whole process of vegetation, and assimilate to itself whatever it needs from the earth and the air and the sun; and not until then can it be the fruit-tree we call lemon.
No being, then, can pass from the power to the act, except by the aid of another being which is in act. Now, the infinite of the pantheist is continually passing from the power to the act; from being indefinite and indeterminate, it becomes limited and determinate. Therefore it cannot do so but by the agency of another being, which is all action and no potentiality.
This being is God.
We have examined the first principle of pantheism with regard to the infinite, and we have seen that a being the essence of which lies in being made, in becoming, either means something the essential elements of which are continually changing, so much so as to have no duration whatever, or it means a being which has a beginning and may have an end. In the first case, the infinite of the pantheist would be a mere absurdity, a pure abstraction. In the second, it expresses nothing else but the idea of a finite being, and leads to the existence of a purely immanent being or act.Proceeding to discuss the second principle of pantheism, that the infinite, by a necessary, interior movement, unfolds itself, we have demonstrated that this is impossible; that, granting the possibility of the infinite unfolding itself successively, this it could never do by its own unaided energy, but requires the help of another being. That, consequently, the second principle of the pantheists leads also to the idea of God as proposed by the Catholic Church.
As a corollary following from the whole discussion, we draw the conclusion that the infinite is utterly inconceivable, unless it is supposed to be most perfect, most finished reality, if we may speak thus; that it is altogether absurd, unless it is supposed to be pure actuality, without the least mixture of potentiality; in a word, pure, simple action itself; in the language of the schoolmen,actus purissimus.
The discussion of the pantheistic idea of the infinite has led us to the main idea of the infinite as it is given by Catholic philosophy. We shall now proceed to fill up this idea and develop it to its utmost conclusions, so as to give an exact and full exposition of the doctrine of the infinite, as proposed by Catholic philosophy. The result of our discussion has been that the Infinite, or God, is action itself; or, in other words, pure actuality, an immanent act without beginning or end. Upon this we shall build the whole construction of the essential attributes and perfections of God, and admire how consistent, how logical, how sublime, is the Catholic idea of the Infinite.
Necessary being is that the essence of which is one and the same thing with its existence; and,vice versa, the existence of which is one and the same thing with the essence, so much so that the idea of the one implies the idea of the other.
But God's essence is to be; for we have seen that he is actuality or reality itself. Therefore, God is necessary or self-existing being.
Hence the sublime definition he gave of himself to Moses: "I am WHO am.He who issent me to you."
Eternity is duration without succession or change;duratio tota simul, as the schoolmen would say. Hence it excludes the idea either of beginning or end. But duration and actuality are one and the same thing. Therefore actuality itself is duration itself; that is to say, duration without succession or change.
Now, God is actuality itself. Therefore he is eternal.
Immutability is life without succession or change; or, in other words, life without beginning or end, and without being subject to modifications. Now life is action. Action then, without succession or change, is immutability.
God is action itself. Therefore God is immutable.
Infinity is being itself with the exclusion of limits, that is, of not being; or, to express ourselves more intelligibly, it is being or perfection in its utmost and supremest actuality, excluding the possibility of any successive actualization, for the reason of its being already all possible actualization. Human language is so imperfect and so inadequate that, even in our efforts to avoid in the definition of the infinite all idea of succession or development, we are forced to make use of words which seem to suppose it. Those who are trained to think logically will grasp the idea without much effort; for the wordsbeing itself, to the exclusion of not being or limitation, sufficiently and adequately define the infinite. Now, God, as action itself, is being itself. Therefore, God is infinite.
This definition of immensity, being somewhat different in words from that commonly given by metaphysicians, requires explanation. Let the reader, then, pay particular attention to the following remarks.
Ubiquity implies residence ofbeingin space, both spiritual and material. By spiritual space we mean the existence of different created spirits and nothing more.
By material space we mean the extension of matter.
That God can act on or reside in spiritual beings does not involve any difficulty.
But how can he reside in material space, space properly so called?
It is evident that a spiritual being cannot dwell in space by a contact of extension, since spiritual being is the very opposite of extension.
Therefore, a spiritual being can only dwell in space by acting on it.
The presence of the whole being of God in the action by which he creates, sustains, and acts in spiritual and material space, is ubiquity.
Immensity is the presence of the whole being of God in his action. The difference between the two lies in this: that ubiquity implies a relation to created objects, whereas immensity implies no such relation. We say, then, the presence of thewhole beingof God in his action, because God is pure actuality, action itself. If, therefore, in his action we did not suppose the presence of his whole being, we should establish a division in God; that is, we should suppose his being and his action to be distinct, which they are not, and this distinction would imply a development in God, which is contrary to his being action or actuality itself.
It will easily be remarked that immensity is an attribute which flows immediately from the idea of God being actuality itself. We may therefore conclude that he is immense.
Absolute simplicity, in its negative aspect, implies the absence of all possible composition or distinction in a being; the distinction, for instance, of essence and existence, of faculties and attributes.
Now, God is pure actuality, and this excludes all idea of such distinctions. Therefore, God is simplicity itself.
God is a necessary being, eternal, immutable, infinite, immense, all of which are sides of one idea—that of pure actuality.
Now, such a being can be but one, as is evident to every mind which understands the terms. God is therefore one.
Before we leave this part of the subject, let us compare both the pantheistic and the Catholic ideas ofGod, so that, when brought together face to face, they may appear in a better and more distinct light.
God, according to the pantheists, is an eternal, self-existingsomething, devoid of all determination or limit, of all individuality, of all consciousness, of all personality, of all shape or form.
When well examined, the principle of the pantheists presents no other idea to the mind than that of possibility, a kind of self-existent possibility, if we may bring together two terms which exclude each other.
Starting from this possibility, the pantheists make it acquire determination, concreteness, consciousness, personality, by supposing an interior necessary force of development.
The Catholic idea of God is the very opposite of the pantheistic.
For, whereas they make God a possibility, something that is becoming, to be made; the Catholic Church exhibits him as reality, actuality, being itself. It is careful to eliminate from him the least idea of potentiality or possibility, of becoming something, or of being subject to development or perfection; because it insists that God is all reality, perfectly and absolutely actual. Any idea of further perfection is not only to be excluded from him, but cannot even be conceived; for the simple reason that he is all perfection, absolute, eternal perfection.
That this is the only reasonable idea of God is evident to every mind which is capable of understanding the terms. For happily it does not require a long and difficult demonstration to prove the falsehood and absurdity of the pantheistic, and the truth of the Catholic, idea of God. The understanding of the terms is quite sufficient.
Whoever says possibility, excludes, by the very force of the term, existence and reality. A self-existent possibility is a contradiction in terms; for possibility excludes existence, and self-existence implies it necessarily.
An eternal possibility is also a contradiction in terms; for eternity excludes all succession or mutation, and possibility implies it. An infinite possibility is yet more absurd; because infinite means absolute reality and actuality; possibility, on the contrary, implies only power of being.
But, on the contrary, how logical, how consistent, how grand, and how conformable to all ontological principles is the idea of God held by the Catholic Church! God is absolute, pure, unmixed actuality and reality. Therefore he is self-existing being itself; therefore he is eternal, because pure actuality is at the same time pure duration; therefore he is immutable, since pure actuality excludes all change and development; therefore he is infinite, because he is being itself, the essential being,thebeing; therefore he is simplicity itself, because a distinction would imply a composition, and all composition is rejected by actuality most pure, so to speak, unalloyed, unmixed.
The God of the pantheist is a nullity, a negation; the God of the Catholic Church is really the Infinite. He is in himself whatever is real and actual in spirit, whatever is real and positive in matter, whatever is real and positive in the essence of all creatures. But he has all the reality of spirit without its limitation; all the reality of matter without its limitation; all the reality of all creatures without their limitation. All this reality in him is not such and such reality; but he is all reality, pure, unmixed reality, without limit and without distinction.
What leads the pantheists into the admission of their principle is a false, wrong idea of the infinite. They suppose, and suppose rightly, that the infinite must contain all reality; and seeing around them such a multitude of different beings or creatures, each one with its particular difference and individualization, they ask themselves the question, How can all these differences be concentrated in one being?—the infinite—and in endeavoring to resolve it they admit a first something undefined, indeterminate, which assumes gradually all these different forms.
What is this but a very material and vulgar idea of the infinite? That it was the idea of the first who began to philosophize is intelligible. But that modern philosophers should have no higher comprehension of the infinite, that they should not conceive how the infinite can be all reality, in its being without distinction, composition, change, or succession, is quite inconceivable; and is much less than we should expect from men boasting so loudly of their enlightenment.
Let them hear a Catholic philosopher of the middle ages upon the subject. After having demonstrated that whatever is real in the creature is to be found in God as the infinite and most perfect, he proposes the other question, How can all these perfections be found in God? and he answers, that they are necessarily to be found in God, but in a most simple manner, as one and single perfection. We subjoin his words:
"From what we have said, it evidently follows that the perfections of creatures are essentially unified in God. For we have shown that God is simple. Now, where there is simplicity there cannot be found diversity in the interior of the being. If, then, all the perfections of creatures are to be found in the infinite, it is impossible that they could be there with their differences. It follows, then, that they must be in him as ONE.
"This becomes evident, if we reflect upon what takes place in the faculties of comprehension. For a superior power grasps, by one and the same act of comprehension, all those things known, under different points of view, by inferior powers. In fact, the intelligence judges, by a unique and simple act, all the perceptions of sight, of hearing, and of the other senses. The same occurs in sciences: although inferior sciences are various in virtue of their different objects, there is, however, in them all a superior science which embraces all, and which is called transcendental philosophy. The same thing happens with relation to authority. For in the royal authority, which is one, are included all the other subordinate authorities, which are divided for the government of the kingdom. It is thus necessary that the perfections of inferior creatures, which are multiplied according to the difference of beings, be found together as one, in the principle of all things—God!" [Footnote 132]
[Footnote 132: St Thomas'sCompendium Theologiae, cap. 22.]
The drifting, wide-spread snowstorm of January 17th, 1867, will live in the memory of the "oldest inhabitant" among the strange things of that eventful year. It confirmed in its depth and fulness the weird stories of our grandsires, which our later years had come to look upon as myths; of benighted travellers buried in drifts that covered houses; of common roads only made passable by archways cut through the white heaps; of houses where the only egress was by the upper windows, or perhaps the chimneys. Among the multitudes who found themselves snow-bound on that memorable Thursday aforesaid, I was shut up to the cold comfort of a country inn, in a bleak, mountainous district, where I had arrived the previous evening with the intention of spending only a night and day; less, if the business that brought me could be transacted in a shorter time. I had engaged the parlor and bed-room adjoining, that I might occupy myself with necessary writing uninterrupted by any chance arrival. The dimensions of my suite of apartments were small, and the furniture of the plainest kind; a dingy carpet covered the floor, and green and yellow paper adorned the walls. The brilliancy of thetout ensemblewas heightened by a series of coarse, highly-colored plates, representing the life of the prodigal son in all its phases, and an equally radiant "family tree," laden with what was intended to represent tropical fruits, in red and yellow, the oranges bearing the names and dates of the female members of the family, and the lemons those of the males; a very suggestive picture certainly, and one that told some queer tales of my landlord's family,Fox's Book of Martyrsand an almanac for '66 were the only books the room furnished. The chairs were of the stiffest pattern, arranged in funereal order around the sides of the apartment, with a notable exception in a large stuffed arm-chair, of the olden times, which I drew before the open grate piled with blazing peat.
That fire was a comfort indeed. A sight almost lost in these days in New England; it helped me to forget, in its beautiful variations, the dashing appearance of the youth pictured on the walls, and the cruel plates and malicious lies of the "English martyrologist."
Little did I dream, as I arranged my plans for the next day, of the change that would come over the outer world while I slept, although there were already signs of a coming storm. I looked from my windows in the morning, through the large elms, heavy with the accumulating weight, across the road and opposite fields which the snow had swept into one broad expanse of whiteness, obscuring landmarks and obliterating fences, and which the furious wind was now lashing into billows, all dead white, save where
"Some dark ravineTook shadow, or the sombre greenOf hemlocks turned to pitchy blackAgainst the whiteness at their back."
"Some dark ravineTook shadow, or the sombre greenOf hemlocks turned to pitchy blackAgainst the whiteness at their back."
To be "snow-bound" may be very nice in a large, well-ordered household; but in solitude, with neither books nor companions, and with the remembrance of a family far away, who perchance may just then need your stout arm to release them from a like imprisonment, it is not a cheerful position; and I could not repress a sigh as I gazed over the trackless way, remembering that I was five miles from a railroad station, in a small upland village, not famous for the enterprise of the inhabitants. The sigh was scarcely breathed when, on the confines of the opposite meadow, I espied two figures struggling against the elements, evidently intent on working their way to the inn through the terrible drifts. It was weary work; for they fell and arose again often, during the short time I watched them before hastening to the old landlord, who was smoking his pipe where was once the barroom, and dreaming over the visions of his long-gone youth. As soon as the purpose of my call was known, he summoned three stout laborers from the kitchen, where they were rejoicing with the maids over the prospect of an idle day, and bade them go at once to the relief of the travellers. I grew impatient with the long delay of the servants, the more as but one of the two men was to be seen breasting the storm; the other must have fallen. Forgetting my delicate lungs and small physique, I donned my overcoat and hat, and, fortified with a flask of brandy, hastened to the rescue, reflecting that brains are often as useful as muscle in an emergency. The more successful traveller, a stout son of "green Erin," was quite exhausted when we reached him; but he found breath to articulate, in answer to our inquiries for his companion: "Indeed, he fell near the big tree. Oh! he be's a real gintleman." The informer was conveyed to the house by two of the men, while with what seemed to me supernatural strength, I made my way with the third toward the aforesaid "big tree," walking on the drifts where the stouter man went down, and though the strong, keen northwest wind nearly took away my breath, and the sleet almost blinded me, I was first on the spot. It seemed to me two hours, though it was less than half that time, from the moment when I lifted the head of the fallen man and succeeded in pouring into his mouth a spoonful of brandy, till we landed with our burden at the door of the inn.
There was something in my first glance upon that cold, handsome face that came to me like a dream of early days—something that claimed kindred with the associations of my youth. By the motherly solicitude of the landlady I knew that he would be speedily resuscitated, and, prostrated by my exertions, I was leaving him in her care, when I stooped to reach the hat of the gentleman from the floor where it had been thrown, when I saw the name "Redwood R. Hood," written in the crown. Immediately I knew why I had been impressed with his face, and turning to that form over which strangers were bending with curious gaze I said peremptorily, "Take the gentleman to my room; he is a friend of mine; and, Mrs. S——," I added to the landlady, who looked incredulous, "with your help we can very soon restore the circulation, and he will have more quiet there than here." I will not enter into the process of resuscitation; let it suffice that by evening my friend was the occupant of the large arm-chair before the piles of burning peat, and we had gone over the years intervening between us, with the circumstances of our meeting again in a summary manner, and we now sat in the early twilight quietly looking at one another.
"The 'wolf' snow came near devouring little 'Red Riding Hood' this time," I said, bursting into a laugh again at the joyous memories that name recalled.
"Even so," replied the pale figure opposite, "and I owe my life to you, William Dewey, the 'billet doux' of early days. Happy hours of our youth!" he added, almost regretfully. "Yes, they were happy," I responded, "even with all their drawbacks; yet what do you think now of the sermons of two hours in length filled with the strong meat of total depravity, election, inability, foreordination, and reprobation, to which we were under bonds to listen and to give a rehash at home, and the tedious prayers which we were obliged to take all standing; a much more respectful attitude, however, than the lounging, sitting posture of the present generation of the so-called orthodox?"
"Do you remember," he said, a smile spreading all over his face, "when we were at Parson Freewill's school in L——, in the old meeting-house with the square pews, with seats that lifted when the congregation arose for prayer, and the vigorous slam we gave the covers when we reseated ourselves? I think that powerful stroke rather compensated for the length of the prayer; it was something to look forward to. But my most fearful remembrance is the hour after supper devoted to the Assembly's Catechism. I can see my poor aunt now, shaking her grey curls over the old family Bible, from which she was endeavoring to prove to me the words of the Catechism which said I had lost all communion with God, was under his wrath and curse, and so made liable to all the miseries of this life and the pains of hell for ever, and that through no fault of mine; but that such was the corruption of my nature that I was utterly indisposed and made opposite unto all that is spiritually good, and wholly inclined to evil, and that continually!" (VideCatechism of Westminster Assembly.)
"How is it possible you have your catechism at your tongue's end even at this date?" I replied. "Really I doubt if I could repeat an answer correctly; but I thank God who has brought me out of such terrible darkness."
"Then you have escaped?" he inquired, putting out his hand to grasp mine; "you, a deacon's son, brought up in the very midst of 'Brimstone Corner'! Well, well! I must believe the age of miracles has not passed, for this cannot be anything less than a miracle!"
"Yes, a miracle indeed," I replied gravely. "A double miracle, that I escaped, and am at last anchored."
"Anchored!" he exclaimed incredulously, "do tell me where you can find bottom after such uprooting."
"Where you will perhaps despise me more than if I had been content to walk the Calvinistic rut through life," was my reply, as I gave into his hand my prayer-book. He examined it with curiosity and surprise. "A Catholic! a Roman Catholic!" he exclaimed at length, with a shade of what I thought savored of contempt in the tone of his voice; "you, William Dewey, son of Deacon Norman Dewey, of the puritanical city of Boston, you a Papist! Excuse me if I cannot help saying, it seems to me, 'out of the frying-pan into the fire.'"
"And pray, may I ask where you find yourself religiously?" I said; "men of our years, after the fifties, ought to be fixed somewhere."