THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES GIFT OF E. D. KIRSCHMAa REASON and DOGMA OR FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL By Rev. HENRY TRURO BRAY, M. A., B. D., LL. D. Author of "GOD AND MAN," "THE EVOLUTION OE A LIFE," etc. Third and Revised Edition CHICAGO TRURO PUBLISHING COMPANY I899 Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1894. BY HENRY TRURO BRAY, In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, THE REGAN PRINTING HOUSE, CHICAGO. Pluris est oculatus testis units quam auriti decent. (Plautus.) Multos puto ad sapientiam potuisse pcrvenissc nisi pu- tassen t se perven issc . {Seneca . ) Speak a word in season to him that is weary. {Isaiah.) NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR. Although certain portions of the present woik appeared in one of the author's former publications, "The Evolution of a Life." a work of which only a small edition had been sold when the author, for personal reasons, slopped its further publication; nevertheless, the present work is so different in substance, and so wholly different in method and arrangement, from "The Evolution of a Life" that it is absolutely necessary it should have a new title, one indicative of its true character and contents. HENRY TRURO BRAY. Chicago, 111., Aug., 1894. CONTENTS. Page CHAPTER I. The Foundation and Limits of Dogma *3-23 CHAPTER II. Heredity and Environment 2 3~3o CHAPTER III. Fruits of Study 30-42 CHAPTER IV. Credulity ■ • 4 2 ~ 53 CHAPTER V. Knowledge and Belief 53" CHAPTER VI. Self-Deception 62 ~ 71 CHAPTER VII. The Greatest Is Charity 7 1 ~ 8 7 CHAPTER VIII. The Curse of Avarice 87-99 CHAPTER IX. Lamps without Oil • . 99-i°+ CHAPTER X. Faith without Works lo *~ l ' 4 CHAPTER XI. Imputed Righteousness II 4" 1 - G CHAPTER XII. Brotherly Love . ... 126- . CONTENTS. CHAPTER XIII. False Spirits 137-146 CHAPTER XIV. Debasement of Religion 146-156 CHAPTER XV. Unreasonable Dogmas 156-164 CHAPTER XVI. Loyalty to Truth 164-170 CHAPTER XVII. The Call of Duty 170-178 CHAPTER XVIII. Clerical Skepticism 178-184 CHAPTER XIX. Words and # Works 184-191 CHAPTER XX. Dishonorable Conduct 191-202 CHAPTER XXI. The Dogma of Creation 202-221 CHAPTER XXII. Thoughts of an Honest Priest 221-233 CHAPTER XXIII. Divine Conceptions 233-240 CHAPTER XXIV. The Judge's Statement of the Case 240-247 CHAPTER XXV. The Judge's Conclusion 247-259 CHAPTER XXVI. Husk, and Kernel 259-268 CHAPTER XXVII. Discussion of a Priest and a Warden 268-276 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXVIII. Quieting a Mother's Anxiety 276-2S2 CHAPTER XXIX. Law and Ecclesiasticism 282-294 CHAPTER XXX. One God — One Humanity 294-308 CHAPTER XXXI. A Priest and a Physician on Ecclesiasticism 30S-318 CHAPTER XXXII. The Resurrection 31S-338 CHAPTER XXXIII. The Heavenly Adversary 33 8 ~34 6 CHAPTER XXXIV. Happiness and Virtue 346-35^ CHAPTER XXXV. Death and Immortality 35 6 ~374 CHAPTER XXXVI. An Inquisitive Visitor 374 _ 38 f » CHAPTER XXXVII. God and the World 3 86 ~397 CHAPTER XXXVIII. Reason Prevails 397-4°7 CHAPTER XXXIX. The Barriers Are Broken 407-418 CHAPTER XL. The Old and the New 41S-436 ' ' For he knew that no man is an orphan; but that there is an eternal Father who careth continually for all. ' ' {Epictetus, referring to Hercules. ) PREFACE. This work may be called a religio-philosophical novel; although the matter of the book is fact, not fiction. Between reason and dogma there has always been waging a most deadly strife, which has never been more universal than to-day. In these pages are set forth truly and fully, with all the attendant circumstances, causes, reasons, and results, the origin and growth of this strife, in the soul of an honest and scholarly clergyman. Henry Merton was a real man among men; and the mental labors, spiritual sufferings, heart bereavements, and whatever else is related in this work, are real experiences, and not the work of imagination. The incidents and occurrences of the average novel, while they may, or should, be possible, are scarcely ever actual; in other words, while they may not be contrary to human experience, they are hardly, and perhaps never, experienced by one and the same person. But in this work there is nothing made for the occasion. Neither art nor imagination has been allowed to run wild, or frame words not in themselves living realities. With the ex- ception of a few fictitious names, every sentence in this work is but the footprint of a human soul, and that too of a soul burning with a love of truth and righteousness. Here we have portrayed, as they actually occurred, the doubts and fears of an honest mind equipped, as but few are found to be, with abundant means for thorough in- 11 PREFACE. vestigation; and possessing, to a very rare degree, a firm resolution to probe these doubts and fears to the very bottom, at whatever costs. First, we see the causes that gave rise to these doubts and fears; secondly, their growth and development; and, thirdly, their reasons and results. Henry Merton sought the truth as only the few ever seek it, for the great host of mankind follow their leaders; and the latter, sad to say, are in general bound by the three forces, prejudice, custom, and self-interest, to es- tablished usages and customs; and what these three forces fail to accomplish, ignorance for the most part perfects. Thus there is but little opportunity for the birth and growth of Truth. Should Truth happen to be conceived, it is probably blighted in gestation; should it fortunately pass this stage, it will likely perish in infancy for the lack of sufficient nourishment; but should it marvelously reach maturity, then will it be exposed to the blandishments of ten-thousand false-hearted lovers, or tread Gethsemane alone, drink the bitter cup of persecution prepared by Superstition and Bigotry, and probably finally lay its life down as the reward of its own spotless virtue, and as a sacrifice for the good of humanity. If the conclusions at which Merton arrived, and which are in this book worked out, are true, then is the religious nature of man grievously burdened with dogmas no less pernicious than unnecessary; and if these conclusions are not true, then is all reason astray, and science deceptive. But if reason be astray, and science deceptive, humanity can believe in nothing, trust in nothing, hope for nothing; for whether wrong or right, we have only the lamp of reason to go by, and the foundation of reason to stand up- on; for even if we admit a divine and infallible revelation, we admit it only because we believe it to be reasonable. Nor is there any person to be found in the whole world, PREFACE. HI who will admit that his beliefs, however monstrous, are unreasonable in themselves. It is certain to all that, in the words of L,ocke, " Reason must be our last judge and guide in everything". It is not at all likely, therefore, that any person would be so rash as to assert that the reason of the world, for the last twenty-five hundred years, has been astray; and since science is nothing but objective reason, or reason's legitimate and necessary results, it can not be that the world of science is deceived. . That the conclusions which Merton arrived at, and which are in this book worked out, are true therefore, we do not in the least doubt ; and we are certain that the whole purely scientific world gives us its unqualified support as against the superstitions of the age. Nor do we doubt but that, if the readers of this work accept the conclusions herein specified, they will be hap- pier, more reasonable, more divine, and more god-like, enjoying more of heaven, and living more as Christ would have them live. From whatever side we look at this book, it must result in a blessing to him who carefully reads and inwardly di- gests its contents. While, on the one hand, the incidents and experiences related are full of absorbing interests; on the other hand, the information the work contains on the Scriptures, theological dogmas, creeds, and other matters, is very great; the morals it inculcates are of the very highest order; and its theology is broad, elevating, reasonable, world-embracing. But he who would derive the full benefit from the read- ing of this work, must, in the words of Huxle)', " pluck the blessed fruit from the tree of knowledge, unconcerned whether these conquests trench upon the poetical imagin- ation of faith or not ' ' . This may be hard in certain cases to do; but such fearless love of truth, of God, of humanity, IV PREFACE. never fails of its great reward: for above all other encour- agements and blessings, is this one truth, ' ' Die Unschuld hat im Himmel einen Frennd." THE AUTHOR. Chicago, 1894. REASON AND DOGMA OR FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL, CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION. THE FOUNDATION AND LIMITS OF DOGMA. Quid tarn temerarium tamque indignum sapientis gravitate atque constantia quam aut falsuin sentire aut quod non satis ex- plorate perceptum sit et cognitum, sine ulla dubitatione defen- dere — What is so audacious or so unworthy the gravity and equanimity of the wise man, as to entertain a falsehood, or to de- fend unhesitatingly what is not sufficiently clearly understood and known. (die.: Be Nat. Deor. I. i.) The nature and destiny of man, the origin of the cosmos and how it is governed, are questions which have always interested the greatest that have ever lived, and can not fail to be of surpassing interest to all future gen- erations. True, we have heard some say that they care nothing for these things; but certain it is that such an admission on the part of any person is conclusive proof of mental degeneration, or of a lack of those finer and more exalted powers essential to the highest development, or to harmony with nature and its laws. It can not be denied, however, that thinking men have drifted away from the church, nor that in general they have become unbelievers, or radically indifferent. And although some may imagine that unbelief is worse than indifference, we are free to say that this is not true. Rather are we sure that of all states man can assume, that of indifference is the worst, the most inimical to his (13) 14 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. present and future welfare. Superstition is bad, a clog to the soul's development, and an impassable barrier to the highest mental progress; but indifference is much worse, for this gives no incentive to labor either for the present or future, but kills hope and deadens ambition. Shocked at the discovery of the fallacious character of their religious belief, it is not uncommon for persons most devotedly religious to cast aside gradually their former convictions, and finally assume a position exactly opposite to that which they formerly held. True religion is found between the lack and excess of religious faith, or between unbelief and superstition; but its discovery is not a very easy matter, for few are they with that equipoise of mind and heart necessary to their finding it. When once this golden mean is found, the universe seems more harmoni- ous, the cosmos a unity, the earth brighter, and the fut- ure more hopeful; and he who loves truth for its own sake, who is willing to divest himself of prejudice, and follow the light of pure reason as it scatters the darkness of ignorance and error, can not seek this golden mean in vain; and, when found, he will be richly repaid for the energies he may have expended. It is for this golden mean that man should seek, that he may know more of God and man, more of the present, more of the future; that he may be blessed more and more with the freedom of reason, and liberated more and more from the shackles of ignorance and superstition. When one, after having had unlimited faith in another, finds his confidence to have been misplaced, and himself to have been defrauded and maligned by the very person whom he had regarded as the dearest of all his friends, his faith in mankind receives a rude shock, and he prob- ably becomes misanthropic, and distrustful of all. This is but natural, for man is a child of extremes. Thus is it in regard to man's religious faith. Rocked in the cradle THE FOUNDATION AND LIMITS OF DOGMA. 1 5 of superstition, with his mind stored with everything but religious realities, and his imagination peopled with priestly creations, man is prone to rush to the extremes of unbelief and indifference, on discovering the untenable character of his childhood's faith. On finding the symbol of his faith irreconcilable with science, and repugnant to his own sense of justice and right, he concludes that there is no true faith, or declares with the fool "that there is no God. ' ' The foundations of his own temple having been washed away, built on the shifting sands, he can not readily believe that others may have been more for- tunate, nor that there is a temple which abideth forever, founded deeply in the rock of eternal reason and truth. Happy are those who pause and think before they heed- lessly cast themselves adrift to be beaten about by the ebb and flow of the tide, or to be driven about by the chang- ing winds, without care, without purpose, an enigma to themselves, and a wonder to the gods. It may be that the weak-minded man must be either a drunkard or a total- abstainer, but the properly-balanced one will find rest in temperance. Thus it is true that the man unac- quainted with nature and its laws, delights in myths, and finds pleasure in the dogmas of a coarse and blood)' re- ligious faith; and when by chance or endeavor he sees the error of his ways, he naturally goes to the opposite ex- treme, and finds himself without God, and without hope of a world to come. But the well-balanced mind will search earnestly for the truth until he finds it. Even the difficulties he may encounter in such search will not cause him to desist, for well he knows that no great prize is ever obtained unless ardently contended for. But when he finds the object of his search, his joy is great: religion is no longer the bane of civilization, but the purest 'and most exalted manifestation of God dwelling in man, sanc- tifying his life, and giving him hope in death — a religion # 1 6 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. consonant with reason, at one with nature, and comfort- ing to the heart. While we hold that such a faith is not found in the symbols of the church, we do believe that it is unfolded in the pages of this book. Calamity, distress, want, fear, praise, awe, and won- der are the foundation-stones of all early religious tem- ples, and the chief impulses to all primitive devotional acts. Nor have these forces lost their sway to-day, for over minds of low degree they always have control. But as one advances in the scale of civilization, becomes ac- quainted with the laws of nature and his own being, he becomes more and more free from the tyranny of fear, yielding to the voice of reason only, or to the sweet com- mands of love and duty. The noble soul can never re- ceive nor offer services given for the sake of reward, or with the hope of escaping punishment; but such a man yields his whole being to the drawings of love or to the sense of conscious duty. It is evident, therefore, that among all religious motives these two are incomparably the highest and noblest; and being highest and best, the soul that yields to them is doubly blest: he is happy in the service he renders, and the service itself ennobles his being. To get the noble man's service, therefore, he must be reasonably appealed to on the ground of duty or love, and not on those of fear or favor. The fact that the average appeal of the Christian pulpit is not made on the grounds of duty or love, shows in general the quality of the minds to whom the appeal is made, and the vicious character of the creed on which the appeal is founded. As appeals founded on threats, or fear of punishment, must fail to move the noble soul, so equally ineffective are all appeals made on irrational grounds. What is contrary to reason the noble-minded can not, will not, believe; and what is founded on threats, he must instantly spurn. Can we wonder, then, why the brightest intellects and 4 THE FOUNDATION AND LIMITS OF DOGMA. 17 purest minds have not been, and are not, found in the church. How can such souls yield their assent to the great creeds of Christendom! They do not; they can not. The two great creeds of Christendom are the Nicene and the Apostles' , while a third form of faith is known as the Athanasian. As these forms of faith are the foundations of orthodoxy, we will here give them for the benefit of our readers: THE NICENE CREED. I believe in one God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, and of all things visible and invisible: and in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God, begotten of his Father before all worlds, God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God, begotten, not made, being of one substance with the Father; by whom all things were made, who for us men, and for our sal- vation, came down from heaven, and was incarnate by the Holy Ghost of the Virg'n Mary, and was made man, and was crucified also for us under Pontius Pilate. He suffered and was buried, and the third day he rose again according to the Scriptures, and as- cended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of the Father. And he shall come again with glory to judge both the quick and the dead. And I believe in the Holy Ghost, the Lord and Giver of life, who proceedeth from the Father and the Son, who with the Father and the Son together is worshipped and glorified, who spoke by the prophets. And I believe one Catholic and Apostolic Church. 1 acknowledge one baptism for the remission of sins, and I look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come. THE APOSTLES' CREED. I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth : and in Jesus Christ his only Son our Lord, who was con- ceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried; he descended into hell; the third day he rose again from the dead, he ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty; from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead. I believe in the Holy Ghost; the Holy Catholic Church; the com- munion of saints; the forgiveness of sins; the resurrection of the body; and the life everlasting. 1 8 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. THE ATHANASIAN CREED. Whosoever will be saved, before all things it is necessary that he hold the Catholic faith, which faith except every one do keep whole and undefiled, without doubt he shall perish everlastingly. And the Catholic faith is this: That we worship one God in Trin- ity, and Trinity in Unity; neither confounding the Persons nor dividing the Substance. For there is one Person of the Father, another of the Son, and another of the Holy Ghost. But the God- head of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost is all one, the glory equal, the majesty co-eternal Such as the Father is, such is the Son, and such is the Holy Ghost. The Father uncreate, the Son uncreate, and the Holy Ghost uncreate. The Father in- comprehensible, the Son incomprehensible, and the Holy Ghost incomprehensible. The Father eternal, the Son eternal, and the Holy Ghost eternal. And yet there are not three eternals, but one eternal. As also there are not three incomprehensibles, nor three uncreated; but one uncreated, and one incomprehensible. So likewise the Father is Almighty, the Son Almighty, and the Holy Ghost Almighty; and yet there are not three Almighties, but one Almighty. So the Father is God, the Son is God, and the Holy Ghost is God; and yet there are not three Gods, but one God. So likewise the Father is Lord, the Son Lord, and the Holy Ghost Lord; and yet not three Lords, but one Lord. For like as we are compelled by the Christian verity to acknowledge every Person by himself to be God and Lord; so are we forbidden by the Catholic religion to say there are three Gods or three Lords. The Father is made of none, neither created nor begotten; the Son is of the Father alone, not made nor created, but begotten; the Holy Ghost is of the Father and of the Son, neither made nor created nor be- gotten, but proceeding. So there is one Father, not three Fathers; one Son, not three Sons; one Holy Ghost, not three Holy Ghosts. And in this Trinity none is afore or after other; none is greater or less than another. But the whole three Persons are co-eternal to- gether, and co-equal; so that in all things, as is aforesaid, the Unity in Trinity, and the Trinity in Unity is to be worshipped. He, therefore, that will be saved, must thus think of the Trinity. Fur- thermore it is necessary to everlasting salvation that he also be- lieve rightly the incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ. For the right faith is that we believe and confess that our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is God and Man; God, of the substance of the Father, begotten before the worlds; and Man, of the substance of his mother, born in the world; perfect God and perfect Man, of THE FOUNDATION AND LIMITS OF DOGMA. 1 9 a reasonable soul and human flesh subsisting; equal to the Father as touching his Godhead, and inferior to the Father as touching his manhood; who although he is God and Man, yet he is not two but one Christ; one, not by the conversion of the Godhead into flesh, but by taking of the manhood into God; one altogether, not by confusion of substance but by unity of Persons. For as the rea- sonable soul and flesh is one man, so God and Man is one Christ; who suffered for our salvation; descended into hell, rose again the third day from the dead; he ascended into heaven, he sitteth on the right hand of the Father, God Almighty; from whence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead. At whose coming all men shall rise again with their bodies, and shall give account for their own works; and they that have done good shall go into ever- lasting life, and they that have done evil into everlasting fire. This is the Catholic faith, which except a man believe faithfully he can not be saved. The reader will find a sufficient discussion of the Ni- cene Creed in chapter XXXVIII of this work. The Apos- tles' Creed, exactly in its present form, is found for the first time in the writings of Pirminius, who is supposed to have lived in France, although he died about 758 in Germany. The substance, however, of this Creed is very clearly given by Rufinus, a priest of Aquileia, who died in Sicily in 410. But although the substance of this Creed occurs for the first time in the writings of Rufinus, it must not be supposed that he therefore believed in it, for he was bitterly attacked by Jerome for supporting the heretical tenets of Origen. The so called Athanasian Creed is not the work of Athanasius, but is supposed to set forth the faith believed by him. There is much un- certainty about its date and authorship; but it is believed to have originated in France, somewhere during the fifth century. In written form it is found for the first time in 570; at which time Venantius Fortunatus, just before he became bishop of Poictiers, wrote a commentary on it. In the ancient English Church it was recited daily; in the modern English Church it is recited thirteen times a year, 20 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. and in the Roman Church once a week. Waterland re- gards this creed as the work of Hilary of Aries; but not- withstanding the existing uncertainty attending its origin and authorship, it can not be doubted that in regard to the matters it sets forth, it fully and exactly embodies the Catholic faith, or that its definitions can be proved by "most certain warrant of Holy Scriptures." Almost every phrase of it can be found in the writings of St. Au- gustine; and the whole Western Church has accepted it for more than a thousand years, and does accept it to-day, as a most lucid, logical, and exact statement. Nor do we believe that any fair-minded person, competent to judge, can doubt that the Christian Church has come to this conclusion as a logical result of accepting the Chris- tian Scriptures as inspired writings. In the words of a prominent teacher: "Just as Bacon, Kepler, Descartes, Leibnitz, Newton, had before them facts of nature, classi- fied those facts, induced upon them certain general ideas, which seemed to explain them, and so by a process of careful verification arrived at the laws of nature — even so Athanasius, the two Gregories, Jerome, Augustine, and the other great theologians of the fourth and fifth cen- turies, had before them the facts of Revelation, carefully compared those facts, induced upon them certain general ideas which seemed to harmonize them, and so by a not less strictly inductive process arrived at the doctrines of theology; and these doctrines of theology which find ex- pression in the Athanasian Creed, for instance, have been continually verified by succeeding ages, and have been found to explain the facts of Revelation so perfectly and satisfactorily, that they have come to be accepted by the whole Church with a confidence as justifiable as that with which astronomers accept the principles of Newton." (Norris: On the Prayer Book). THE FOUNDATION AND LIMITS OF DOGMA. 21 That the theologians referred to in this excerpt were just as rigidly logical in their inductions from the princi- ples of Scriptures, as were Newton and others in theif inductions from the facts of nature, we do not in the least doubt; but the absurd and repulsive doctrines of the Christian Church are not the result of vicious reasoning. A carpenter may use the best of skill in putting together the framework of a dwelling, but if the timbers be rotten, of what use is his skill? So with the theologians referred to: their logic is rigid enough, but the substance they use in their logical process, is not only not divine revelation, but the outgrowth of priestcraft and ignorance for thou- sands of years. The trouble, therefore, is not with the logic of the theologian, but is one much more radical than this. Whereas the premises of the scientist are based on the facts of nature, those of the theologian are based largely on superstition, mere assumption, ignorance, or the false notions of good men. The Creeds, with all their nature-contradicting assertions, are undoubtedly true photographs of the Scriptures. Should any person be inclined to doubt this assertion, let him take his Bible, and carefully examine the following references. While they are but few compared to the vast number which might be adduced, we doubt not that they are in them- selves sufficient to establish every clause of the Athanasian Creed, the most lengthy symbol of orthodoxy: Isaiah vii. 14; Math. i. 18-25; xi. 27; xii. 31, 32; xxvii. 35; xxviii. 5, 6; Mark xvi. 15, 16; Luke i. 35; John i. 1,3, 10; v. 22-29; x i v - 2 6; xv. 26; xvi. 28; xvii. 5, 24; Acts i. 22; ii. 24, 31; xiii. 37; Romans xi. 34; xiv. 10; II Cor. v. 10; I Eph. iv. 8, 9; Phil. ii. 6; Col. i. 15-17; I Tim. i. 16, 17; iii. 16; Tit. i. 3. ii. 10; iii. 4; Heb. ii. 14, 15; I Pet. i. 3; iii. 19-21; I John iv. 9; v. 7, 20; Jude 4, 25. For many long years we repeated the Creeds, fully believing that they are truly expressive of the contents of y 2 2 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. the book upon which the Christian Church is founded; nor is our faith in these symbols, as exponential of the Bible, any less strong at this time than in those days when we stood a priest performing the functions imposed upon us. A more perfect epitome of Scriptural teaching than these three great Symbols of orthodoxy can not be pro- duced nor imagined; and if a person would know the teachings of the Bible, we would certainly advise him to study the great Creeds of Christendom. If we refuse our assent to these Creeds, it is not because we question their accuracy as logical deductions, or as exponential of the Bible; but rather because we are unable in many cases to receive as truth the statements which form their prem- ises. L,et any person of average intellect, and fairly well acquainted with scientific facts, examine the following passages, and ask himself what conclusion he must come to: Gen. ii. 21, 22; iii. 8; vi. 1-7; Ex. iv. 24; vii. 3; xiv. 17; xxxii. 14; Deut. xx. 13-17; xxiii. 1, 2, 13, 20; xxxii. 41, 42; Judges i. 19; I Sam. xv. 32, 33, 35; II Kings xx. 1, 5; I Chron. xxvi. 27; II Chron. xviii. 20, 21; Ezek. xiv. 9; Rom. ix. 18-23. Surely, not a few theological deductions are founded on premises which are but vain creations of minds ignorant or superstitious or interested in forcing them on a credulous world. The scholar is willing to admit that the Church has no less a right, and that it may be no less expedient and proper for it, to declare a dogma than the philosopher a general law of nature; but neither the Church nor the philosopher has a right to violate the laws of the cosmos, nor transgress the bounds of reason. CHAPTER II. HEREDITY AND ENVIRONMENT. (M6p6ina 8> ovri q>vyliv Qs'uiS ov 6ocpia tii anooderai \xX\d fxdrav 6 npoSv/noi dsi itovov ec,ei) — Everyone's fate is decreed, nor can one by wisdom ward it off; who tries to do so, will always only increase his pains. (Enrij).: Eeraclidae, 614.) Among the many difficult problems which present themselves to the thoughtful soul, it can not be denied that there are some concerning which different minds will arrive at different conclusions, — in other words, concern- ing the correct solution of which man is in great uncer- tainty, and perhaps always will be; but in answering the question whether or not man to a large extent, is physi- cally, mentally, and morally a necessary product of hered- itary factors, we do not think there is any lack of unan- imity. "Heredity," says the famous Weismann, "depends upon the germ-plasma. The minute molecular structure of the germ-plasma causes the egg-cell to develop into a duck or into a swan; it also causes the egg to develop into a Negro or into a European, into a Mr. Smith or into a Mr. Jones; in short, all qualities of the developed indi- vidual depend upon the constitution of the germ-plasma. ' ' Much less remote factors of descent are the mental and physical states of the parents at the time of conception, and of the mother during gestation. How fortunate the child whose qualities have been well beaten out in the forges of descent ! how lamentable the wretched babe truly damned while yet its being was a cell, and before the spirit of nature had moved upon the chaos of its existence ! Henry Merton's deeply religious nature was a quality derived more especially from his father, who had been a most religious man, most affectionate, wholly unselfish, most assiduous in looking to the welfare of his children, always imparting such instructions as he could, and never 23 24 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. ceasing to point them to God. He seemed to have been such a soul as the Divine Spirit must delight to dwell in. Henry was but little more than seventeen when he was bereft of this tender parent by death. Thenceforth, the word "father" had a different meaning to him: it brought thoughts of the grave, and sighs for the times that would come no more forever. It also took from him all hope of parental assistance in obtaining the education he sought, as well as his chief source of advice and en- couragement. Thus so early left to his own resources, it would not have been possible for Merton to have achieved -what he did were it not for the devotion of his youngest brother, and the large heartedness of a most benevolent gentleman who had become deeply attached to Merton in their church relations. In less than a year, however, this noble soul passed away, leaving Merton to himself and to his youngest brother. The expense of Merton' s early student-life at the uni- versity was somewhat lessened, from the fact that he was preparing for the ministry; for all ministerial students had dormitories, in the institution, free of rent. Such rooms were also larger, better situated, and more health- ful than those, as a rule, obtained at private houses. Whether productive of good or evil, the young man pre- paring for the ministry is the recipient of very many favors. It is largely this fact, in all probability, that leads so many young men, weak in character, and of small ability, to choose the ministry as their profession in life. The many favors offered by the churches and educational institutions to young men preparing for the ministry, have undoubtedly great effect in filling the ranks of that profession with recruits; on the other hand, it is doubtful if young men, of great and noble parts, are likely thus to be attracted. And if they were MENTAL CULTURE. 25 attracted, there is generally no call for them; the crowds of less worthy applicants having already more than sup- plied the demand. Among the very many assisted as we have said, there were some, as Merton knew, who were truly worthy in every respect; but the society of the average ministerial student, he soon found, was in no wise calculated either to make him purer in heart, or more polished in mind. Ignoble in conduct, and indolent in studies, many of the biblical students appeared to Merton more fitted to carry the hod than to build the temple. He also saw that the very worst characters among them were frequently the most demonstrative in prayer and profession. At five o'clock on Sunday mornings, it was the custom for these students, aroused by some of the more active ones, to assemble for prayers. Great excitement would then prevail; much renewal of vows; great profession of faith and trust. At such times a student felt ashamed if he could not weep as much, and pray as loudly, as any other brother. Thus those of excitable temperament would shout, and sing, and pray, until they bordered on the very verge of frenzy. Merton himself was of a very nervous temperament, and religious disposition; and it was not to be expected that a person of such nature could be long exposed to such and similar forces, without being greatly affected. Thus it was that Merton, who had never known a day without praying to God, nor without having faith in him, was greatly influenced by those who made the profession of sauctification; and in due time he made such profession himself, and continued in it for several years. Still he had every evidence for believing that it was not among those who made the greatest professions, that the purest characters were found; nor among those who professed to 26 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. be nearest to Jesus, was the young man found who lived most like Christ. In illustration of this, we will give the following from his own journal: "Last night I was awakened out of sleep by the most melodious strains of music nearly under my window. I listened in rapt delight for a time, when I heard the splash- ing of water, and a female voice saying: 'Goodness, gracious! That's my new dress.' The singing ceased, and the singers departed thinking they had been poorly paid for their intended kindness. "In the morning there was a very bad feeling manifested among the boys at the occurrence, and a determination expressed to discover the student who had poured, from one of the dormitory windows, a bucket of dirty water upon the heedless heads of the unhappy serenaders. None appeared so much offended as a young man who "was the son of a minister, and who professed sanctification. In giving his experience, he used to say that he wished to leave this wicked world to go and live with Jesus. In the course of a day or two, he was found to be the guilty party. He paid the young lady for a new dress; but the dirt}' act added to the feeling already prevailing against the theological students or the "bibs" as they were called." At this time Merton was not without religious doubts and fears; but when thus troubled, he would fall on his knees in prayer, and there remain until such doubts and fears had passed away. The following extract, from his journal of this date, shows clearly enough the depth and earnestness of his religious life: "Glory be to thy name, dear Savior, for having taken me to be one of Thy sheep. O Lamb of God! may I never perish; but rule Thou in my soul every motive, every. desire, and every action." Nor was he less diligent in studies than devotional in MENTAL CULTURE. 27 life. He sought to excel in whatever he undertook; and his superior ability and scholarship were readily acknow- ledged. The following instance may be given in proof of this. They were reading Antigone, a Greek play of Sophocles; and it was the professor's custom to translate for the class to-day what he would assign them as a lesson to-morrow. Merton protested against this custom, holding that it was ruinous for the professor thus to do the scholar's work. One morning at the recitation the professor hesitated in his translation, and finally told the class that, the passage being very obscure, he would excuse them for the day. In an instant Merton thoughtlessly replied: "Why professor? I am sure the passage is easy enough." With one voice the class cried out: "Read it, Merton. Get up, and read it. ' ' The professor blushed, but said nothing. Merton felt deeply the impropriety of his conduct, and longed to apologize, which he determined to do on the following da}-; but the next day the professor did not make his appearance; and Merton always thought that it was because of his deep mortification. On the second morning after the occurrence of the unpleasantness, as soon as he had opportunity, Merton arose in his seat, and apologized; for well he knew that although what he had said was true enough, his actions, as a student, were nevertheless very improper. The professor replied: "I recognized the impropriety of your conduct, Mr. Merton; but I willingly receive your apology. I also hope that in the future you will be as well prepared in your studies, as you have been in the past. ' ' The daily life of many of the ' ' bibs ' ' was a great sur- prise to Merton, who had hoped to find in them examples of pure and holy living; but with their character, as a class, no person could be very favorably impressed. Among them there were not a few whose very exterior would 28 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. condemn them anywhere, as worthless; and, taken as a body, they certainly did not appear to possess anything that should elevate them in the eyes of the world, or make them "chosen vessels," as they professed to be. Some of them whose worthlessness could not be easily covered, sought to turn it to their own advantage, by saying that God chose the weaker things of this world to confound the mighty. It was the habit of the Greek professor to pray with his eyes wide open, whenever he led the devotional exer- cises in the chapel of the university. It was thought he had a good and sufficient reason for keeping his eyes open at such times; as Merton was told that at one time, when praying with his eyes closed, the professor's head had come into collision with an old shoe which had been thrown with unerring aim by one of the mischievous boys. This professor was not a favorite in the school; just why, Mer- ton never learned. Merton was quite a regular attendant at the meetings for holiness, held at the residence of a Mrs. Horton. Some very striking experiences were there related. At one of these meetings a Miss Mitchell said: " I see God face to face every day. He talks to me, and I talk to Him; and our conversation is full of heavenly things." Merton felt he saw an explanation of such experiences. The university was a great place for matrimonial alliances; and as there were many young men, either already preachers or soon to be, attending these meetings for holiness, it was, he thought, natural that young ladies should seek to attract their attention, and win their esteem. Nor is it to be doubted that such public profession of superior holiness, would appear a great attraction to those who were to be " watchmen in Zion." In the month of April, Mrs. Maggie Varley, the great MENTAL CULTURE. 2Q revivalist, visited the university town. She labored hard to convert the young men; but the only effect of her work, as far as Merton could sec, was the conversion, or fright- ening, of a few young girls. She had a good eye to busi- ness; for she sold her photographs to the "brethren." Being a very handsome woman, she found a ready market for them. * . It is probable that Merton' s philosophical tendency was derived from his mother. On her father's side she was of Hindu descent, her grandfather having been a wealthy Bengalese who, having come to England and been educated there, determined to remain in that country, and finally married a daughter of a Mr. Eddy, a clergy- man of the Church of England. The revival spoken of weakened Merton 's faith in the sincerity of revivalists. Even in those days he began to suspect what he afterwards certainly knew, that to know them as they appear to be, is not to know them as they really are. How far reaching in its effects may a very small occurrence be ! How unforeseen the forces and circumstances that produce man's character ! It would seem that Huxley speaks not without reason when he says: In man as in brutes there is no proof that any state of consciousness is the cause of change in the motion of the matter of the organism. If this position is well based it follows that our mental conditions are simply the sym- bols in consciousness of the changes which take place automatically in the organism; and that the feeling we call volition is not the cause of a voluntary act, but the symbol of that state of the brain which is the immediate cause of the act. {Collected Essays, Vol. I, Essay v.) CHAPTER III. FRUITS OF STUDY. Profecto eos ipsos qui se aliquid certi habere arbitrantur. addu- bitare coget doctissimorum hominum de maxuma re tanta dis- sensio. — So great a disagreement among the most learned con- cerning this, the most important of all questions, forces us to doubt the certainty of their information. {Cicero: De Nat. Dcor. I. i. \ The great business of a man is to improve his mind. As for all other things, they are no better than lifeless ashes and smoke. (Marcus Aurelius.) Several of the young men at the university were known as "Conference Students." Such had been preaching for some years, but were now seeking a better education chiefly at the expense of their conferences. From the fact of having had experience in the ministry, their companionship was much sought by new matricu- lants at the schools; but one's esteem for them generally lessened as his acquaintance with them increased. During the senior year Merton's room-mate was a young gentleman from Allentown. He had come to the school to prepare for the ministry. He was a most consci- entious young man, and very sincere in his Christian life. In attending this school he had expected to find better means of obtaining purity of heart, and sound knowledge than he could find at home; but his treatment by the "brethren," and their conduct in general, soon dissipated his hopes. " Here," he said, " I felt sure I could know more of the height, and depth, and breadth of the love of God in Christ; but after a stay of about six months I find if I stayed much longer, Mr. Merton, I should be a first-class infidel. The actions of the brethren have been so disgraceful, that I have lost most of the honest faith I brought here with me. God 30 FRUITS OF .STUDY. 3 1 help me to get home safe, and I'll promise not to come to this place again in a hurry, with the hope of receiving good from the society of young preachers! Look at what the Rev. Richter did to me! While I live I shall never forget the insulting act. For more than an hour I marched around in that cattle-show, carrying the tag which he had pinned to my back, and on which was written, 'This bull for sale;' and I should have continued walking with that insult there, were it not for that strange gentleman who asked me why I bore such a card. I was horrified at the discovery, and ashamed to be seen any longer among the people; and all this shame and mortification came to me from the hands of a minister of the Gospel. I have had enough of young preachers. By the help of God I will look for better society." Merton's studies were bringing forth their fruit in him; but that fruit was the fruit of knowledge, of which if the student eats, his eyes will begin to open, his faith in dog- mas to waver, his doubts to increase; and he will be a sub- ject less and less affected by the innoculating virus of su- perstition. Such a mental state is well described in his journal of this date: "To-day my soul is sore, and my cry is going out to God: Hide not thyself for ever. O Lord, in thy mercy arise, and dispel the gloom; bind up Thou the broken-hearted. "About a week ago I passed anight all in trouble and darkness. Sleep forsook my eyelids. I lay on my pillow from about half-past nine o'clock at night, till four in the morning, without slumber. I endured unspeakable dis- tress of soul; and though I prayed continually that God would give me rest, my prayers seemed vain. I was in black despair. Last night I had ?. worse time, if possible. I sought slumber in vain till midnight, when I came out, and prayed to God to remove the agony of mind I was 32 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. suffering. I seemed to be afraid of disease and death, and cried in the bitterness of my soul that God might show me the cause. A thousand fears seemed to flit through my mind; and my prayer has been, and still is, L,ord be mer- ciful to me. ' ' We copy these words because of their deep import. The state of mind spoken of induced such physical pain, and mental misery as made Merton's life for years almost unbearable. But he might have given us the reason for such a state. He might have written that it arose from the conscious conflict of reason with the superstition taught in the name of religion; and that its more immediate cause had been the reading of the posthumous essays of J. Stuart Mill, and other similar religio-philosophical writings. The argument of the great and truth-loving Mill had been too much for Merton. The taste for such writings once hav- ing been established, Merton's mind could find no rest until he had read almost everything he could find, bear- ing on the fundamentals of Christianity. Never was ground held more tenaciously ; never was there a more unwilling tenant ousted; but, still, little by little was Merton obliged to surrender much that he had been accustomed to regard as essentials of Christian faith, and necessary to eternal life. This he had to do as reason forced the changes upon him. The fact also that from this date he made much less frequent entries in his journal, proves the change which was slowly but surely coming over him. He began to un- derstand that states of mind, or experience, may result from faith in things that do not exist. A son rejoices in the hourly expectation of meeting his mother, although, unknown to him, she died yesterday while on her journey. Her death did not lessen his conscious joy, although the form which he was momentarily expecting to gladden his heart, was now cold in the embrace of death. His joy arose, not from the fact of his mother's existence, but from FRUITS OF STUDY. 33 his faith in that existence, — in other words, from faith in something which he supposed had an existence, but which in reality had not. So with the Christian, — his ecstasy arising from belief in certain Christian teachings, is no proof that such teachings have any basis in reality. They may be dead, as the mother, though he rejoices in his be- lief that they are alive. So great is the faith of the sincere Mohammedan in Mahomet, as the great prophet of God, that his mind frequently enters into a state of ecstasy or even frenzy; so also is it with the Christian who, in a sim- ilar manner, trusts to Christ. Each declares that there is no other name given whereby a man may be saved; and each refuses to admit that the other can have salvation through the name in which he trusts. But it makes no difference to their happiness, for the reason, as we have seen, that a man may be as happy from hoping in a non- existent thing, as in something so firmly established as the everlasting hills. Man's religious principles are in general the slowly de- veloped results of his early influences. During childhood Merton had lived in a deeply religious atmosphere; and, in due time, his imaginative nature seemed in touch with the spirit-world. The fact that that world was unknown to him, and the barriers separating the known from the unknown, impassable, could not deter him, in his waking hours, from forming conclusions concerning it and its in- habitants; nor, in his sleep, from mingling in their society. Thus when about nine years old Merton dreamt one night that father and mother, with the whole family, were seat- ed around the fire. The father was telling stories, as was his custom, when some one was heard walking in the cham- ber above. They were all greatly surprised, and conclud- ed, of course, that it was a spirit. In a short time steps were heard coming down the long stairway; and in a minute 34 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. more, they beheld a beautiful spirit-child standing beside them. He said he had come from heaven, and that he wished one of them to accompany him. It was agreed that Merton should go. The beautiful spirit walked before him for some time, when he seized, and bore Merton into space, finally setting him down amidst a dazzling throng sur- rounding the throne of God, and praising Him who sat thereon. Here Merton was permitted to remain for some time, until he was so delighted with the many attractions of the beautiful place, that he wished to abide there; but the spirit was commanded to take and bear him away to the lower regions, that he might see himself the torments of the damned. In a twinkling they were whirling through space, and soon found themselves at the massive gates of the infernal regions. The doors were thrown open, and they were admitted. Here was every conceivable kind ol torment which infinite power and skill could contrive. Wherever they looked were devils yelling, fires raging, and the lost groaning. Thousands of little dog-like fiends went hither and thither, snarling and biting; and Merton thought their bite was the bite of eternal death. Into the wound they made, they injected a poison which passed through and through the being bitten, vitiating more and more his nature, and leaving him irretrievably lost. Mer- ton trembled; but the spirit said: "Stay near me, and they can not reach you." Having seen the woes of the lost, burning in the fire that is never quenched, once more the gates of hell flew open; and Merton and the angel were rushing through space. Again they stood in the presence of God. Here Merton wished to remain forever; but God said: "It is not yet time; take him whence he came; let him finish the work I have given him to do." Unwilling as Merton was, he was taken by the spirit, and borne to his father's house. FRUITS OF STUDY. 35 At another time he dreamt he met the Devil, who chal- lenged him to wrestle. At this time Merton was about fif- teen years old, and enjoyed wrestling very much, and was considered very expert at it. Merton accepted his chal- lenge, and soon threw him very heavily. This he repeated several times, when the Devil said to Merton: "You are a coward, nevertheless; why don't you take out those things you have in your pocket?' ' In his dream Merton had in his pocket a prayer-book and a Bible; and these he was unwilling at first to take out. Finally he said: "Al- though it is against my principles to wrestle without the prayer-book and Bible, still I am quite satisfied I can throw you with or without them; so to oblige you I will take them out." No sooner had he taken them out than the Devil seized, and threw him so violently, that his very life seemed leav- ing him. He awoke in such screams that brought his fath- er, who was some time before he succeeded in calming him. His nervous shock was a ver3 r severe one. Again, when about sixteen, he dreamt that the Judg- ment-day had come. All mankind were passing, one by one, over a scales. Those who brought down the scales, went to the right; those who could not, went to the left. The pallid looks and trembling forms of the countless hosts awaiting their turns, revealed too plainly the awful anxiety pervading the silent breasts of all. Now had come the long expected moment for the final answer to the well known lines: "Where shall I find my destined place? Shall I im everlasting days With fiends or angels spend? Who can resolve the doubt That tears my anxious breast? Shall I be with the damned cast out Or numbered with the blest?" 36 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. The moments seemed years. Soon, however, Merton's fate had been decided; and he was praising God for being "numbered with the blest." Such dreams show to a certainty the food Merton had been fed on, the books he had read, his mental state, and his deeply religious nature. It is a pity such books are ever printed. They are a curse to those who read them. Merton found only one thing painful to him in the uni- versity. The students had a custom of ' 'sloping' ' en masse, if the professor should be a few seconds late in coming in- to the recitation-room. By "sloping" is meant, leaving the room in a body, precisely as the hour for recitation arrives. By so doing the students could not have a new lesson assigned, and therefore would escape so much study. Against the practice of "sloping," Merton protested from the beginning. He felt every lesson missed was a loss to him, and that the professor owed him the recitation. He therefore would not leave, but await the professor's ar- rival. This brought the ire of the class down on Merton, and frequent threats of vengeance. One morning as he was passing under the university porch, coming from a recita- tion in French, "which the class had "sloped, "he narrowly escaped a bucket of water thrown from the window above, with the purpose of giving him a bath, because he would not "slope" with the other members of the class. After this the boys found him more obdurate than ever. It was not the way to gain their end. Merton held his own, and finally brought ' 'sloping' ' into disfavor. The boys liked him the better in the end for what he did; although it seemed a little hard for him at first. He was very desirous of gaining the friendship of his class; but he could not think it right to possess that friendship, at the expense of losing his recitations. Some of his class tried, in every way, to make things as disagreeable for him as possible; FRUITS OF STUDY. 37 and none persecuted him so bitterly as the ministerial students. The daily routine of college life soon becomes irksome and finally unbearable to a person not naturally studious, or not longing for a knowledge of nature as it really is, and of the great souls who have striven in the ages gone by to know it, and to give their thoughts to the world often at the sacrifice of their lives. To know such men as they really were, is to love and revere them as masters in the domain of thought, — as beacon lights of virtue and wisdom in a world engulfed in ignorance, wealth, and lust; and dark as the world is, and always has been, the earn- est student searching for the truth, and not for some prop to support a cherished opinion, never finds it without some great souls, standing as rocks in mid-ocean, conse- crated to their work, moved by the highest impulses, liv- ing as gods among men, and scattering seeds of justice and truth wherever they go. It was during the last two years at the college of arts that Merton became more especially acquainted with the thoughts of some of these men. About this time he received a letter from his friend and college chum, R. B. Faye, who had been engaged in the active work of the ministry for some years; but at present was taking a course at the university, as a confer- ence student. Merton and Mr. Faye confided to each other their inmost secrets. The religious doubts and fears of each were not unknown to the other. "Oh, friend Merton !" he wrote, "I have to inform you that my dar- ling L,ena is dead. Yes, dead, dead! My brightest earthly hopes are all crushed and withered. She was not only highly educated and accomplished, but naturally pure, virtuous, modest, gentle, and loving." It is indirectly to the death of this excellent young lady, that Merton attributed, to no small degree, the great change 33 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. that, a few years after, passed over the religious belief of this friend. Feeling his ignorance of those matters which ministers in general affirm as most certainly known, Mr. Faye determined on a course of post-graduate study. He went to Breslau, Germany, where he continued at work two years. He then returned, but not to preach. The re- sult of his work so increased his conscious ignorance, that he resolved to assert no more, as known and true, what now he clearly saw was unknown and unreasonable. He took up the work of teaching, and, had he lived, would have become a well known educator. He died suddenly while experimenting at the laboratory of the college where he was teaching. He left behind him a widow and one or two little children. He was a hard-working student, a good man, and a true friend. He was the most intimate companion Merton ever had among all his college acquaint- ances; and he deeply regretted his death. It is quite generally supposed that great affliction and sorrow tend to soften, and increase the religious spirit of the sufferer; but we have not found it so. On the contrary, we believe that it tends to increase the questioning spirit, and to make of the sufferer a more matter-of-fact man. On Merton's return to the university, he chose the lake route. On board the steamboat there happened to be among the passengers an old gentleman by the name of Taggart. He had with him a charming and beautiful girl with whom Merton soon became well acquainted. It was through her that he was introduced to her father, who Merton discov- ered was, in popular language, an infidel. They frequent- ly conversed on religious topics, at which times Merton would press upon him what he regarded as the most con- vincing proof of the deity of Christ. Having failed to satis- fy his inquiring mind by argument, Merton spoke to him of the great pleasure derived from the feeling that God was FRUITS OF STUDY. 39 our Father. To this he replied, "My dear sir! I never take a morsel of food, without thanking Him from whom all things come. That He is the Father of all, I doubt not; that I am his child, I confidently believe." Here was a man called an infidel who Merton was forced to admit, had a faith far deeper, and a trust more complete than he, although a child of the orthodox faith. The know- ledge of this fact set Merton to thinking, which in due time brought forth its abundant fruit. The year now opening was to be his last at the college of arts; he was a member of the senior class. At such times young men's expectations are not so great as in preceding years. Fields at a distance look green; distance lends en- chantment, distorts the reality. Like that of others, Mer- ton' s mind was tossed hither and thither, on the tempest of uncertainty. He was in the valley of indecision. At this time he could have well subscribed to the well known words of Vergil: ' ' Rerumque ignarus, imagine gandet. ' ' There were very many obscure paths, but none so plain that he, a way-faring man, might not err therein. As representing his religious faith at this time, we will quote from what Merton wrote, at this date, in his auto- graph album: 'Rerumque ignarus, imagine gaudet.' And can the Infinite be known? Is God the Father, God the Son? Him whom no eyes have ever seen, whose fiat is the law, Jehovah, Lord, God without end, man manifested saw! What a conflict of words, unintelligible surds! Who can extract their root? More than reason afford-;, or history records, Is the mystery of (Joel's own book. Every line of this original poem reveals deep doubt, a doubt ever widening and deepening as the consciousness 40 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. grew in him, that reason and reason alone must be the ul- timate judge in all things; and that whatever teachings did violence to reason, should not be accepted as true elements of faith. That not a few dogmas of Christianity did vio- lence to reason, contradicted one another, and all ideas of the justice and goodness of God, Mertou could not for one moment doubt. Merton had now finished the course of study for the de- gree of B. A. , and that, too, with great distinction; for of the many young men who had been contending with him for the gold medal, not one remained at the beginning of the senior year: he had outrun them all in the race. But his philosophical and scientific studies had served greatly to weaken his faith which once could receive the most un- reasonable assertions, though based on the most incredible testimony. This effect is clearly manifested in a poem com- posed by Merton at that time, and with which we close this chapter. We give the poem not for its merit, but to illus- trate the effect on Merton's mind of philosophical and scien- tific studies: Now rest my soul. Where wouldst thou go? I'd question thee of worlds unknown. Why sayest thou, 'let me alone, I'm doomed to linger here below? ' The Hand that guides the starry host, And feeds for aye the cosmic flame, That gives to great and small a name, That moveth all and loveth most, — Whence came that Hand, if such there be? What powers produced the awful Cause? What are, who framed, the cosmic laws? Would'st thou by silence silence me? The link that binds thee to the sky, In substance what, in strength how great? When was it wrought? and why create A link whose substance some deny? FRUITS OF STUDY. 4 1 Still more I ask: whence comest thou? Now, hold thy peace; I question fair. If able, unto me declare Where first thou dwelt, where dwellest now, A friend sincere I've always been, Would gratify thy least desire; Yet know not I if earth or fire Thou art; indeed, if anything. I do not know thee who thou art, And more, I'm ignorant of myself; Of things below, e'en though but pelf, Uncertain, too; yet love to mark — Th' unfolding flower, the budding tree, The march of time, th' expanding soul, The atom, m< lecule, the whole, E'en though thou ne'er canst answer me. CHAPTER IV. CREDULITY. Wisdom and knowledge shall be the stability of thy times. (fsaia/i.) HPHE summer in which he took his first degree in science and arts, Merton passed with his mother and young- est brother. During this time Merton was frequently with his brother's minister, the Rev. Mr. Tubbs, whose sermons appealed more to the reason than to the feelings. Many of Mr. Tubbs' people were displeased, and Merton wondered not; for of those who fill the churches, but few are they who relish reason. One said, "There is no food to be had in this church now." Said another, "He looks for all the world like an actor. If he has not missed his calling, then I am no judge of human nature." "I can not help thinking," said Mr. Tubbs one day, ' 'that I have some friends in this church; but I do not think, Mr. Merton, that I have ever preached a sermon in this place to what might be called an appreciative audience. ' ' Merton replied that he was sorry to hear what Mr. Tubbs had said; and asked if the elder was not on friendly terms with him. "The elder," said Mr. Tubbs, "is outwardly a profes- sor of sanctification ; but in his heart, Mr. Merton, he is an infidel." Shortly after Merton 's arrival the quarterly meeting of the church was held. The question came up whether or not Mr. Tubbs should be invited to return another year. At the first opportunity Father Sanctity arose, and said: "I have a large class, which as all know is the backbone of the church; and my class to a man is opposed to Mr. Tubbs' return. They know that Mr. Tubbs can not feed them with Gospel truth. They ask wheat, and receive 4^ CREDULITY. 43 chaff; they ask a fish, and receive a stone. I give my warning voice here in this meeting against inviting Mr. Tubbs to return here another year. Do so, brethren, and you do so at your own peril. I have been a Methodist all my life, and I know what Methodism is, and I know that Mr. Tubbs' new-fangled notions are not the good old-fash- ioned Methodism that I have been used to, and I want none of it. These are my sentiments and the sentiments of my class." There were several other class-leaders present who felt highly offended at the manner in which Father Sanctity had extolled himself and his class. Seeing how their feel- ings were hurt, Merton arose, and said that Father Sanc- tity should not be misunderstood; that none better than Father Sanctity knew that the church did not stand on one man or one class; that Father Sanctity was a hard-working member of the church, and, as such, had a right to be heard; but that neither Father Sanctity nor his class could suppose that their judgment should overrule the combined judgment of the rest. Merton said that his own opinion was, that Mr. Tubbs should be invited to return to them another year; that it was desirable for Mr. Tubbs' future success, and that it was far from certain that any other man whom they might have in his place, would be any more acceptable to the people of Eudoxia. For this speech Father Sanctity could never forgive Merton. At the first prayer-meeting Merton attended on his return from school the next year, he saw many familiar faces. Father Sanctity was there, and was even invited by the Rev. Mr. Tubbs to make the closing prayer. He did so in a most familiar, boisterous manner. He prayed for a heart of love to God and man; a heart forgiving and kind; a heart at peace with the world and its God; a heart into which malice should never enter; a heart like unto the heart of Christ. His pe- 44 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. titions were in general such as the pure-minded Marcus Aurelius might have made, and every child of man wish granted. The people having been dismissed, there was a general shaking of hands. Merton approached Father Sanc- tity, and offered him his hand. He refused to take it, say- ing Merton had hurt him the preceding year. Merton told him he was shocked at him, at the mockery of his prayer, and advised him to go home, enter his secret chamber, and come out no more until he had a better heart. Here Merton had the most certain proof that man may use the words of prayer, yet never pray; that his lips may say, "the L,ord be with you," while in his heart he may wish that you be possessed of a demon. Of this fact he be- came more and more convinced, as he watched more and more the lives of those who prayed. This knowledge in- creased the doubts already existing in his breast, and made him begin a more searching investigation of the fundamen- tals of Christianity. He felt more and more the uncertain- ty of things received without question, and determined not to enter on the work of the ministry, until he sought and obtained more information. He therefore made up his mind to complete a theological course. By so doing he felt sure he should get more light on those matters which now were so obscure to him. Surely, he thought, men whose sole work it is to teach theology, must know more than all others about the Being of whom they speak. So Merton thought, but so he found was not the case. Rather did he find in theology a mass of jarring words, and of unreasonable and conflicting statements; and in theologians, the bitterest an- tagonism to one another, and a general and profound ig- norance concerning the subjects of which they speak. And after long continued and most earnest study, through the best and richest years of his life, Merton became convinced that theologians, as a class, are very fitly characterized by CREDULITY. 45 the words of Democritus: oacrov aWotoi /xeTetpw, t6t.'; filled the houses, and made the water almost tm- drinkable. They would, strange to say, devour even what tobacco-chewers call, "an old quid."" On the following Sunday, Merton preached, in the morning, at Smith's; in the afternoon, at Centre; and, in the evening, at Micropolis. At the last place his subject was based on Heb. ix. 13; Rev. xix. 6. The room at Micropolis was very full, the air over- heated, and charged with the odor of tobacco. Being sickened himself, and seeing very many ladies in, perhaps, a worse condition, Merton rebuked the practice of whole- sale and indiscriminate tobacco-spitting, in language as mild as possible; but not without creating some ill-feeling. Said Mr. Truthtul, after the service was over: "I do wish. Mr. Merton, you had not spoken of tobacco-spitting. It is a dirty practice, but one which everyone, almost, is guilty of here, I've heard nothing but good this week THE CURSE OP AVARICE 93 about our preacher; but now I shall hear many say, 'Your preacher had better mind his own business.' It's hard for people to break off such habits." "But, Mr. Truthful, had that nuisance not been stop- ped, I should have been unable to proceed with the services. I was already sick at the stomach. I protested in very mild language; and the favor I asked, I'm sure, should have been willingly granted. I would not gladly offend any one. I have never used tobacco in any form, and although I like well enough a little of its odor, I could not possibly endure the foul filth expectorated before my eyes from the mouths of a whole congregation. If the people are so wedded to this practice that they cannot give it up, while the services are proceeding, I have another reason for leaving. ' ' That night, while returning on horseback from his work, as tired as ever man could be, about five miles from Micropolis, and several from any house, Merton saw, as he thought, sitting on their haunches, three large, stray dogs. When riding along he had been thinking of his circumstances; and considering all things, he felt greatly disheartened. Every Sunday he was forced to travel about thirty miles to reach his different appointments, always depending on some one's good will for a horse to ride on. As yet he had no house, no place to call home, not even an acceptable lodging-place; and he felt in his heart no bright prospects for the future. For himself.his heart was sore enough; but as he thought of his wife, he felt more impatient, and concluded something should be done. While thus reflecting, he was brought within about fifteen feet to the animals, when he realized, to his horror, that they were three large, grey wolves. The stars were shining most beautifully, and the moon was moving through the heavens in all her unveiled glory. As he 94 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. passed the animals he clapped his hands, and shouted at the glaring-eyed monsters. No sooner had he done this than, with a frightful howl, they sprang at the horse. The latter gave a snort, and dashed away so suddenly, that Merton almost lost his balance, and came very near falling off. It was a young horse', and as yet had hardly been worked. Over the prairie went the beautiful, intelligent, and frightened creature, like the very lightning, pursued by the maddened, hungry wolves, which were all the time trying to get at Merton 's feet. He scarcely hoped, know- ing what a poor rider he was, to escape their distended jaws. In a short time they had succeeded in pulling out from under the saddle, a blanket which Mr. Smith had spread there, and which, at this time, must have been hanging low down at the horse's side. As soon as this was done, they stopped pursuing Merton; and the whole prairie seemed resonant with the howls of the ferocious beasts. But even though no longer pursued, the horse would not be checked. On it rushed like a meteor, until it dashed into the yard of its owner. There stood Mr Smith wondering what could have happened, and there stood the horse shaking and trembling like a leaf. While pursued by the wolves, Merton's thoughts would often revert to his wife; and he earnestly prayed that he might not be taken from her, and she be left a stranger in a strange land, without money or friends. Eight o'clock the following Saturday night, Merton left the residence of Mr. Soulless, and in the darkness made his way across the prairie to the residence of Mr. Smith. It had come to Merton's knowledge that the former had loaned the latter quite a sum of money, and that he was exacting fifteen per cent interest. Mr. Smith was a very poor man who had known better days, but who now was living in abject poverty. His wife, surrounded by wretch- THE CURSE OF AVARICE. 95 edness and want, was fast falling a prey to anxiety and care. Merton could not help feeling deeply for them in their miserable state; and he hoped, by speaking to Mr.Soulless, that he might persuade him to exact less interest; but he had misjudged him. He was hard-hearted, unfeeling, un- scrupulous, caring little for the wail of the orphan, the cry of the widow, or the bloody sweat of the unfortunate borrower that might be in his hands, provided only he got his fifteen per cent; and yet this man was a prominent member of the church; indeed! he was the very pillar of it. "O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!" When Merton spoke to him of the unfortunate cir- cumstances of Mr. Smith, and of the wretched condition of his wife and family; how he was heavily in debt, and had to pay fifteen per cent, an interest, Merton said, ruin- ous to any borrower, he got very angry, and, as it were, cried out in the words of Shylock: "The pound of flesh which I demand of him, Is dearly bought, 'tis mine, and I will have it," Merton was very sorry to have offended him, but wished, if it were possible, to make him deal mercifully with Mr. Smith, who was a member of the same church, and certainly in most deplorable circumstances. "If you do not approve of my business conduct, Mr. Merton," said Mr. Soulless, "you can leave my house, sir, and leave it to-night." "I do not approve of your business conduct with Mr. Smith, sir," said Merton; "nor do I think that either law or Gospel will justify any man in charging another fifteen per cent for the loan of money, at the same time demand- ing first-class security." "I have loaned Mr. Smith, sir, money on several oc- casions; and what I have loaned him, I shall expect him to return according to agreement." 96 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. "I understand, Mr. Soulless," replied Merton, "that you have done as you say; and, without much doubt, as you have already taken from him, little by little, much that he once possessed, so will you in due time take from him the balance; for I insist, no farmer can possibly pay fifteen per cent, and save his farm." "My business, sir, is my own, and something with which you have nothing to do. As you have presumed to meddle with it, I have already said what you can do." "Mr. Soulless, I have heard you express your desire, and it will immediately be complied with, though we were to use the prairie for a bed, and a stone for a pillow. We shall not again meddle with your business, nor with you. It may be, however, that some day God may meddle with it. Let us hope that He may, that justice may be done both to you and Mr. Smith. I am sure, as a member of the church, you ought to be satisfied with God's judgment. " "A moment ago, sir, you said you were going to com- ply with my desire; let me ask you to do so immedi- ately." Thereupon Merton collected the few things he had there, and by the aid of a lantern, went out into the dark- ness, leaving Mrs. Soulless and her daughter in floods of tears. These ladies besought Merton to look over Mr. Soulless' actions, and remain with them; but he felt the insult was too great, honorably any longer to continue as their guest. The mother and daughter were greatly pained at parting with Mrs. Merton; but thanking them for all they had done for her, with an affectionate kiss she bade them good night, never to see them again. Mr. Smith lived about three-quarters of a mile dis- tant, and in the darkness Merton found it very difficult to find his residence. After some wandering about, he was THE CURSE OF AVARICE. 97 glad to find a light in the window; and from the character of the man, he knew well that it was for him, or any others in like circumstances. On opening the door, Mr. Smith was amazed to find Mr. and Mrs. Merton there, seeking shelter for the night. They were willingly admitted, and given the best the house afforded. Next morning, at the breakfast table, Mr. Smith said: "It is a wonder to me, Brother Merton, that you could stay there as long as you have. Mr. Soulless is a very passionate man, ready to bite an}* one who may by chance come in his way. His soul is as hard as his money, and that's hard enough to grind out the life of any man. It is my fault, of course, that I ever got into his power; but I fear I have now as little chance of escape, as the fly in the claws of the spider. ' ' "I am sorry, Mr. Smith, that the unpleasantness oc- curred between me and Mr. Soulless," replied Merton; "but I thought, and think, it was my duty to do as I did Since it has occurred, it has determined me to leave this place, and leave it immediately. I have no home, no conveyance to take me from point to point, no proper boarding-place, nothing, indeed, that can make life bearable for me and my wife. To stand this any longer, would be degrading to myself, and insulting to her. I shall bid this place farewell this week. ' ' "Under the circumstances, Brother Merton, I could not blame you; especially since this trouble has occurred between you and Mr. Soulless, who would now make your stay here as unpleasant as he possibly could. Being the pillar of the church, it is in his power to do you not a little harm. No, sir, I could not blame you for your decision. Personally I am very sorry to see you go; but as things are going, I do not think I can long remain 98 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. here. I fear I shall soon lose the little I have, being completely in his power, and especially since I am not as strong as I was. From my very heart I pray that, wherever you may go, God may bless you." Merton no more doubted that Mr. Smith was sincere in his prayer, than that he himself had labored in vain with a christless Christian for justice to his fellow-man. While Mr. Soulless could make an affecting prayer, and give an ideal experience, he could smile at the misfortune of the widow, and laugh at the calamity of the fatherless. Ilium et labentem Teucri et risere natantem, Et salsos rident revomentem fectore /luctus. ( Vergil: Aen, v. 181.) xM : CHAPTER IX. LAMPS WITHOUT OIL. Extemflo Libyae magnas it Fama per nrbes — Fama, mall it m qua non aliud velocius ullum, Mobilitate viget, virisque adquirit eundo: Parva metu primo, mox sese attollit in auras, Ingrediturque solo, et caput inter nubila condit. — Instantly Rumor rushes through the great cities of Libya — Rumor, a monster than which no other is more swift. She thrives on her mobility, and acquires force by going: At first small through fear, soon she lifts herself into the skies, And though treading on the ground, buries her head among the clouds. ( Vergil: Aen. iv. /yj.) r ERTON now sought and obtained an appointment in another conference. Having learned that the bish- op presiding over the assembly was one of his old teach- ers, Merton called on him, in the morning, before the conference was opened. "From what I know of you, Bro. Merton," said the bishop, "I judge you have acted unwisely in coming out west. You are not the kind of man, nor is your wife the kind of woman, that is wanted here. You would have done much better, had you remained in a more civilized community. This conference is quite full, as it is; no good appointment is vacant, that I know of; and for the few good places to be had, there are already twice too many applicants. I know of only one place not already pro- vided for, Moth and Mazar. If you choose to go there, I will see that you have the opportunity. It is a very un- desirable appointment. Something better would be done for you next year, undoubtedly ; and I w r ill have a small missionary appropriation made, to help you out this year. 99 IOO FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. But I doubt very much that you and Mrs. Merton can live on the income you will receive there. Still, if you wish to try it, you can." Merton replied that as things were, he thought it better to accept such work as the conference had at its command, and to trust to the future for something better. The appointment was given him ; and soon he was on the cars rushing toward his destination. While thus travel- ling, he met a bishop and a minister of the Protestant Episcopal Church: "You are returning from the conference, I presume," said the bishop. "Hardly returning, sir," answered Merton, "but rather coming. I am a total stranger to this part of the world, having just received my first appointment. I am but a short time out of the schools ; and I am really long- ing to be at my post of duty." Having inquired concerning Merton' s education, nationality, and early faith, and being informed, the bishop replied: "It seems to me very strange, Mr. Merton,' why such a man as you could be contented in your church home. The Episcopal Church is really the same as the English ; it is also in great need of men who are, like yourself, educated, and energetic. I hope, Mr. Merton, that you may think of the claims of your mother church; and, if possible, come over to us. We will give you a heart} 7 welcome, and send you to preach the faith once delivered to the saints. I am sure you would be much happier in your mother's house. The prayer-book would be very becoming in your hands; although it has been a stranger to you so long. We would kill the fatted calf, and make merry at your return. I ask you, Mrs. Merton, to use your influence with your husband, and seek to bring him LAMPS WITHOUT OIL. IOI back to his old allegiance. ' ' "Bishop," replied Mrs. Merton, "you can depend on me doing my best. I greatly prefer the Episcopal Church to any other, because of her forms as well as her history." "Mr. Merton," said the bishop, "I will take the pleas- ure, at my earliest opportunity, of mailing you a prayer- book, and a copy of the canons; and if you wish, you can take orders with us in one year from now. Your duty is clear, and the path is easy." The bishop was quite a gentlemanly-looking man, and made a good impression on Mr. and Mrs. Merton. Having finished his conversation with the bishop, who, in the meantime, had left the cars, Merton was approach- ed by the minister who had had charge of his appoint- ment the preceding year. After introducing himself, he said: "Bro. Merton, I feel it my duty to warn you of Bro. Squareman. He is a very peculiar man indeed, always ready to make mischief in the church, and to speak evil of his neighbors. Be very careful how you treat him. If you show much regard for him, your chief members will be offended; if you show little, he is likely to lose his soul. He thinks he has not been well treated; blames the min- ister, blames the brethren, blames everybody. Nor is his wife much different. She is one of those evil-tongued women ready to explode at any moment, and as full of danger as a powder-magazine. The relations of this brother and sister with the church are at present very much strained; and the least friction will break the last remaining link that binds them to you. In your congre- gation you will find another man, Bro. Headstrong, a man full of zeal, but fuller still of ignorance and perversity. He wants a good deal to say; but you can stand that, since he pays well. Between Bros. Headstrong and Squareman 102 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. there is a very bitter feeling arising from an old sore. We had a church trial about it; but no good ever resulted. Indeed, I think it made the matter worse. This feeling does lots of mischief in the circuit. You are going to an extremely difficult charge, one poor in money, but rich in quarrels. God give you grace to conquer." Merton thanked the gentleman for his advice; at the same time, he could not help feeling that he should have felt happier, had he never received it. He had but a mo- ment to wait, however, before another good brother ap- proached him, and said: "I think the bishop must have lost his head, to send you where you are going, Bro. Merton. It does appear to me sometimes that if our appointments were all put into a bag, and shaken up, and drawn by the preachers blind- folded, they would be more appropriately filled than they are to-day. I am truly sorry that you are going to Moth and Mazar." "Why so, sir?" asked Merton. "I have preached there, Bro. Merton, and know the people well. You will not remain six months, and should not. They never have had a minister whom they did not abuse, and I guess never will. You will find no roses in your path there, I assure you; but thorns grow there ev- erywhere, and plenty of them, too. I don't wish to dis- hearten you, God knows; but I speak the truth. You are not going to the people who need you, you are going where you will spend your energies in vain; and take my word for it." The minister having returned to his own seat, Mrs. Merton said: "It seems to me that all the powers of dark- ness combine, on this train, to dishearten you, before you even know the people to whom you are sent. They speak of members abusing one another! If this is not abuse that LAMPS WITHOUT OIL. I03 I have heard from them, then I do not know what abuse is; I must not only be in a strange land, but I must also hear a strange language. I wonder if they are a fair sam- ple of the whole ! Surely they are spiritually dead. Yet, how fair the corpse looks at a distance!" "Never mind, darling," replied Merton. "You are not yet confederate against me; and, until that happens, I shall not lose courage. Ministers are but flesh and blood. It may be they mean well; and, perhaps, what they have said, may really be of great use to me. Let us hope such may be the case, anyhow." "Flesh and blood you say, Hany! I hardly know. By looking at them, we can see they have flesh enough; but that they have any blood in them, I am not certain; they certainly appear to act altogether as bloodless creat- ures. Such evil words and such discouragement ! I feel I shall, ere long, greatly modify my childish ideas about the profession to which you belong. I very much doubt that they are either as harmless as doves, or wise as serpents. I don't believe that what they have told you, is worth remembering. If I were you, I w r ould go to my appointment as if I had never heard anything about the people, and not with prejudice in my heart against them. I wish those preachers would mind their own business, and let us alone. ' ' "Say no more about it, darling, "replied Merton. "We are come now; and I expect we shall find some one here waiting for us. ' ' CHAPTER X. FAITH WITHOUT WORKS. aitv ex w)/ d.\&\rnj.aol£vi>— Wherever I roam, suffering unceasingly attends me. {Homer: Od. xi. i6j.) I T was a strange place to which Merton had come. The town was composed chiefly of one short street, formed of detached, low-built houses, and dilapidated stores. The side- walks were as irregular as waves on the ocean's beach ; and in front of the stores,sat men puffing volumes of smoke from their cherished pipes, and talking of politics and re- ligion. Among them was Mr. Smalleyes, who had come for the purpose of taking Merton, in his carriage, to his new appointment, a place ten miles distant from the railroad depot. Merton was to preach at three points, namely, Mazar, Moth, and Budds. At Mazar, his place of residence, there was neither church nor meeting-house, but the rudiments of a village; at Moth there was anice little church, but no village; and at Budds there was neither church nor village, the preaching being done in a school-house. In making his pastoral visits, Merton first called on Mrs. Rattlebones. Here poverty reigned, her prime- ministers being laziness and intemperance. Merton was not invited to a seat, for there was no such thing in the house. Filthy as this dwelling was, they knelt together in prayer; and the heart of the wretched woman seemed comforted. The chief cause of the filth and squalor sur- rounding this poor creature, who had seen better days, was her good-for-nothing husband, who roamed at large as a philosopher, when he was not drunk in the nearest village. 104 FAITH WITHOUT WORKS. IO5 A short time after making this visit, Merton was play- ing a game of croquet with the Misses Smalleyes.when Mr. Rattlebones chanced to pass by. Seeing Merton, he entered the yard, approached him, and said: "Wa-a-1 now! I have played at almost every kind of game in Christendom, and with almost all the ladies in this yer country; but that game beats me. What do you call it?" Merton answered it was croquet, at the same time in- viting him to join them. "I reckon not," he replied. "Whenever I indulge in such low games, I allers find myself unfit afterwards for higher pursuits. Different men have different constertu- tions. It may be that I was made a leetle too fine for the common things of this yer world; but we all, you know, must do the best we know how with the stuff the Man above has given us. At least them's my sentiments. I don't say this to disturb the elder. Perhaps he's one of those tough ones; if so, I say go right on, and enjoy your- selves. If I could so demean myself, I would jine you in a minute." What reply could be given such a man? Merton looked at him for a moment, and saw what might be called the very incarnation of drunkenness. His limbs were trembling, his eyes blood-shot, his visage pale and shriveled, his whole frame fleshless, and his general appearance revolting in the extreme. After a moment's hesitation, Merton replied: "You do right, sir, in not abusing your finely consti- tuted organism, or impairing your very delicate, mental powers; but I sincerely hope that you'll never use any other means more likely to accomplish these results, than the playing at croquet." "You can bet on that, elder," he said, "I allers take 106 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. care of myself. The Man above commands us to do that ; and my mother brought me up that way. Train a child up, elder, in the way he should go; and when he comes old, he'll not depart from it. That's Gospel, elder, isn't it?" Mr. Smalleyes then made his appearance. After shak- ing hands with Merton, he said: "That was a fine sermon you gave us yesterday, elder; everybody was much delighted. To-day they are all talking of our good luck in getting you here. Our last preacher was one of the best we've ever had in Moth; and he was as lazy as he could be. Mr. Beereyed said that he should have been sent to chop wood, the only thing Nature had fitted him to do. Before this fellow, we had a preacher who was enough to disgust anybody. Even while preaching his sermon, he would chew and spit to- bacco; and when visiting us, he not unfrequently would lift the rug, and spit under it. I have seen him spit right across the parlor. It is because of such men, Brother Merton, that our church here has been disgraced, and made a nest of discord. " I am glad," replied Merton, "that the people are pleased at my efforts; but I am truly sorry to know that there is such a thing as a nest of discord here. Yesterday I saw very many intelligent people in the congregation; I must say that I was surprised at their general appearance. With such intelligence, how can you permit a nest of dis- cord to be found in your social tree? There was one lady who sat in front, near the aisle. She was a fine-looking person, and seemingly well educated. Do you know to whom I refer?" "The name of that woman, Brother Merton, is Mrs. Woundedheart. She is, indeed, an educated woman, and therefore the more to be feared. She is the most danger- FAITH WITHOUT WORKS. 107 ous person in your charge. My advice to you is, keep away from her. Although a woman, she has the serpent's sting. Charm you she may at first ; but as truly as you visit her, so truly will you curse the day." In a few days Merton found himself knocking at the door of Mrs. Woundedheart's residence. He felt a longing desire to know something more of this woman with the "adder's sting." The door was opened by a very pretty young girl, of about eighteen years. She recognized Merton, and invited him in, saying her mother would be there in a moment. "How do you do, Brother Merton?" said the lady. "This is indeed an unexpected pleasure. I little sup- posed that our new pastor would dare show such kindness to me, while he was staying at our near neigh- bor's. I am sorry to tell you, Brother Merton, that I am not very regular in my attendance at service; indeed, I scarcely ever go to church at all. Our church here is all in disorder. I suppose you've already discovered that; if not, I assure you, you soon will. People have no confi- dence in the leaders, none at all. My husband will never go again. He says he can worship much better under the poplar, than with a band of hypocrites. Mr. Smalleyes, your leading man,. is as mean a man as this world has ever known. The truth is, he makes it his chief business to lie about me and mine. He tried for years to ruin us. We've had several law suits with him, and there are more to come. He has tried even to blast the character of my daughter here, and he has nearly ruined my son. He is a very wicked man, and his chief assistant is Mr. Beereyed, who is drunk on whiskey one day, and full of the Holy Ghost the next. My son says that Smalleyes makes the bullets, and that Beereyed shoots them. Mr. Smalleyes, you know, is a coward, and gets 108 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. Mr. Beereyed to do openly what he contrives in secret." "My dear Mrs. Woundedheart, I do not see how you can suppose I should know that Mr. Smalleyes is a cow- ard. We came to see you, and know you. We wish you to come to our services, and help us build up the work. Never mind Mr. Smalleyes. Perhaps if you should return kindness for the injury you suppose he has done you, it might be the best medicine you could give the disease as it exists. But do not tell me any more about Mr. Small- eyes. You are a lady of superior education, of refinement, and must know the evil effects of such bitter feeling among the scattered parishioners that generally compose these country congregations. Under present conditions, no suc- cessful church work, I fear, is possible. Your minister's spirit must be broken, and the church pews remain empty, unless this bitterness be put away. How much happier were your own heart, how much brighter your own home, if you would only consent to let that spirit govern you, which ever manifested itself in the life of him whose fol- lowers we profess to be. I do not say the blame lies with you; but I do say that a woman so superior to her neigh- bors as you are known to be, should seek to use the gifts with which God has blessed her, to soothe rather than irri- tate, to comfort rather than trouble, and to win by words of kindness rather than repel by provocation. I do believe, Mrs. Woundedheart, that no investment brings the human soul such wonderful returns as that of kindness or forgive- ness. And as we invest it, our stock is more and more increased, while all the parties interested are equally benefited. ' ' "Excuse me,Mr.Merton,but I feel I must unburden my griefs to you; it will greatly help me to do so. I have no de- sire to speak evil of any one; but I mention who are the chief officers in our church here. I gave you but two of the FAITH WITHOUT WORKS. 109 names. Another one is Mr. Longshanks. He is not so bad as the other two. His wickedness is chiefly against himself, in filling himself up with whiskey, with which he keeps his cellar well supplied. He is a trustee ; but nobody puts any confidence in his word. If he sells, he gets as much as pos- sible ; if he buys, he gives as little as possible. As far as that goes, his hand is against everybody, and everybody is against him ; but, still, I think he is about the best member you have in your church here, and he doesn't profess to have any religion ; indeed ! he laughs at it. The best men we have here, never go to church ; they have had too much of it already. Mr. Hardtocrack, for instance, is as good as a man can be ; but he never goes to church. He had a very pretty daughter to whom Mr. Smalleyes' son was en. gaged. While in this relation, this young blackguard be- trayed her. What did his father do? Why he sent him out of the country, and left the poor girl to live in open shame. Mr. Backslider is another good man. He had made a note promising to pay the church authorities the sum of two hun- dred dollars toward building the church here. Things went against him. His note became due ; he couldn't pay it. Mr. Smalleyes thereupon sued him, and forced him to sell what little stock he had to meet it. He now spends all his spare time in cursing the Methodists. Mr. Blackbird was treated in like manner, and to-day is a bitter enemy to the church. The minister went around with a subscription- paper ; Mr. Blackbird signed it ; his promise became due ; he was unable to meet it ; he was sued, and forced to pay it at the expense of selling his stock. Even the church build- ing was built in a very strange way. They went around with a subscription-paper, with the understanding that the church should be built, where the majority of the subscribers should vote it to be built. When the money was all pledged, an official meeting was held, at which it was decided to IIO FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. build it where it now stands, Mr. Smalleyes influencing the meeting by promising the church sufficient land to keep a cow, and make a garden for the minister. But in the deed he gave, he took care to have inserted a clause, whereby the land all reverts to him in ten years, unless certain conditions are fulfilled. These ten years are almost expired; and if you folks are not careful, he will soon possess the land again. He has been raising corn on it for years, without paying one cent rent. He should be made to pay rent in full with interest. With that money they would soon have a round sum toward building a parsonage. ' ' Merton left Mrs. Woundedheart's with a sore heart. She was a woman of education, and had been well raised; but her heart was so full of bitterness, that there was scarcely room in it for the good thoughts it once contain- ed, nor for that charity which all should feel for their fellow-men. Merton had hoped to escape horseback riding by leav- ing his old appointment; but in this respect his hopes were not realized. To reach one of his stations, he had now to travel on horseback twenty-eight miles. Yet, for many reasons, his present appointment was better than the former. His salary was larger and more certain, and he had a parsonage to live in. Often, however, his soul would rebel against filling his scattered appointments; especially when he found such animosity existing in the hearts of the members of his charge. The words of the bishop, at the conference, were ringing in his ears: "You would have done much better, had you remained in a more civilized community." And, then, the know- ledge that so many inferior men filled the most important positions, made his lot still harder to bear. At such times the words of Marcus Aurelius: "If a thing is good to be said or done, Do not think it unworthy of thee." FAITH WITHOUT WORKS. Ill would give him courage to persevere; for, surely, the work he was doing was a noble one. Merton found the people at Budds far superior to any other on his charge, more educated, more united, and more generous. It was a pleasure to preach to such. On his return he was glad to reveal this fact to Sunshine. She was comforted with his report, and said: "I do hope you will not hear so much abuse there. Do you not fear a person who has so much evil to tell about his neighbor ? I myself believe that he who acts thus in regard to an- other, will do so in regard to us, when any occasion arises, real or imaginary. She who carries a secret in her open hand, hides a dagger in her sleeve. Do you not fear its point?" "Sunshine, I confess I do; but I will try to wear an impenetrable armor. There is plenty of poisonous mi- asma on my circuit. Its poison, I think, can best be guarded against by keeping within the influence of the rays of your sun. I do believe a woman like you has a very subduing power over- the naughty tongues of still more naughty people. When we come to open war, I think I will push you to the front. Wouldn't that be the right way to do?" "It would certainly be the way for you to escape, if you would like to do that at the cost of my life; but I have no fear of going to the front. I know you will take care of me, Harry; but how to take care of you, is the prob- lem." "Sunshine, we will walk a straight course; and let us hope and pray that God will take care of us both." "Harry, how do you really like your work? I'm afraid that your endeavor to bring harmony out of the existing discord, and order out of the present chaos, will make you ill, or break you completely down. Day and 112 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. night you think of nothing else than how best to heal old sores, unite divided parts, and get a little bread to eat. The work you are doing, is noble, no doubt; but I'm cer- tain you might do a similar work in a more agreeable place. The seed you sow is more than the harvest you can expect to reap. ' ' "Sunshine, do not forget the lines: 'We have no right to bliss, No title from the gods to welfare and repose.' " "Repose is one thing, Harry, and agreeable activity another. I do not ask repose or bliss, but such activity as may be conducive to the real good of all concerned." "Here is Mr. Smalleyes, Sunshine. Let us hear what he has to say about my prospects in Mazar. ' ' "Mr. Smalleyes," said Merton, "there is a good deal of apparent, spiritual life in the church people at Mazar. Mr. Fraudulent especially appears to be an unusually act- ive man." "Have you ever been at his house, Mr. Merton?" "No, sir; I have not been there as yet. I hope, how- ever, to go very soon." "Don't be in a hurry, Mr. Merton; I think you'll be satisfied with one visit. They have a large farm, and are considered very well-to-do; but they are extremely dirty people. There is a sickening odor in their house; and the old woman and the young wife have faces as black as a man's hat. His family, however, are cleanliness itself when compared to his cousin's. In the home of the latter, you might plow up the dirt. But, then, it is use- less, and perhaps wrong in me telling you who will know it soon enough. Besides, I am not a man to talk about my neighbors. I say, let every man find out for himself. It is more satisfactory all around." "Has Mr. Fraudulent been a member very long? He FAITH WITHOUT WORKS. 113 seems to be a man of genuine piety." "That's a man, Mr. Merton, who, like myself, is a trustee of the church; but I wouldn't trust him for a cent, unless I wished to lose it. I believe he would cheat his own mother, if he could. He is the tightest man about here to drive a bargain; he'll stand bantering an hour for a cent. You'll know Bro. Fraudulent soon enough, un- less I'm greatly mistaken. As an officer of the church, I have often had occasion to come into intercourse with him. He is a hard case, I assure you." Shortly after this, Mr. and Mrs. Merton accepted an invitation to spend two weeks at the residence of Mr. Longshanks, who was a very wealthy farmer, and had a charming woman for a wife. He was the owner of about two square miles of as valuable land as could be found in the state, and had it stocked with a great number of fine cattle. Both he and his wife were also well educated. Under the circumstances, a very pleasant visit was antici- pated. CHAPTER XI. IMPUTED RIGHTEOUSNESS. 5£ pla ripipa. ovtw 5e ovoe paxdpiov Kal ev8a.lp.ova pia ■fjpe'pa oj)5' 6X1705 xphvos. E5 \iyerai. 8ti £k rod diicaia. Trpdrreiv 6 8iKaio5 yiverai. Ovk iirj 5'd.v ovde Tipijs dittos (pav\os wv, rrjs dpeTrjs yap ddXov 17 riprj, Kal diro viper ai tois dyadois — One swallow does not make a spring, nor one day; nor does one day, nor a little time, make a man happy and blessed. It is well said that man becomes just from the practice of justice. Nor should a man who is base, be considered worthy of honor; for honor is the reward of vir- tue, and is assigned to the good." (Nico. Eth. 1. 7, 16; 11. 4, 5; iv. 3, 15.) But, unlike this rational teaching of Aris- totle, the doctrine of salvation by faith, so prominent in preaching, teaches that the dying thief or murderer may by one act of faith be as worthy of entering into the heaven of heavens, as the most virtuous soul who has labored all his days to do good, and refrain from evil. More than this: it says that such thief or murderer may, by trusting in an- other's righteousness, receive the reward of eternal life; whereas the morally pure and noble-minded, by trusting in his own righteousness and not in another's, will be adjudged worthy of eternal damnation. The murderer or the vicious- I5§ FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. minded cries to God, as such naturally would, for forgive- ness; and looking to Christ's merit, he no sooner cries than, washed in the blood of the Lamb, he is made as white as snow, and fit for his heavenly home. But the murdered, cut off without warning, falls into outer darkness, where there shall be weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth, to rise no more forever out of his deep, dark dungeon of pain and woe. Reason tells us that character should be the only test of moral worth, this doctrine denies it; reason tells us that purity of soul can only be attained to by long and per- sistent effort after the good; this doctrine holds it can be attained, without money and without price, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, even by one faithful look at the cross of Christ. Reason assures us that every man should be rewarded according to his own deeds; this doctrine teaches that man will receive the highest reward the Infinite One can bestow, not because of his own good deeds, but for the sake of those of another. Cicero teaches that eudaimo- nia or bcata vita (true happiness) is the direct result of one's own virtuous actions; but this doctrine teaches that the beata vita of Christ, which naturally resulted to him from his own beautiful and virtuous life, may be miracu- lously mine by imputation, no matter how degrading my life may have been; that is, it teaches that the shadow may exist apart from the substance. As well might we teach the ex- istence of a child without a parent, or of a product without its factors. Merton could not accept such a ruinous doc- trine. He believed, as he should, that no man can be saved in this world, and, therefore, in no other, by any righteous- ness excepting his own. This righteousness, Merton felt certain, is produced by doing well from noble motives. He could not help accepting the teachings of Aristotle, which is simply the teaching of common-sense; on the other hand, he could not believe in the doctrine cf salvation by UNREASONABLE DOGMAS. 1 59 faith, being, as it is, contradictory to all our ideas of justice, and to natural law. He was glad, therefore, to have done with that popular form of faith which makes this doctrine so prominent in its theology, whether considered in its the- oretical or practical sense. Again, Merton could not see any justice in the doctrine of a fixed state after death. Rather was he conscious that every inference he got from life in this world, went to dis- prove it. There are countless hosts of men who, though they put forth strenuous efforts to lift themselves above and out of their surroundings, yet die in despair, engulfed in the immoral filth in which they were born and raised; like- wise are there multitudes who, though they put forth scarcely any efforts of their own, yet because of their inher- ited tendencies, family relations, early associations, and ed- ucation, live fairly good, moral lives, and die what are called good church-members. According to the doctrine of a fixed state after death, the former are eternally damned, while the latter are eternally blest. Now, if any man can see a par- ticle of justice in such judgment, he must certainly look through other eyes than those of reason. Certainly there would be no justice in such decrees. If it were possible lor the God of the universe thus to judge, it is certain that He, being of such character, must remain unknown to us. But such conclusion, if accepted, would make every priest in the world without means of support, and homeless. In the nature of the case, therefore, it is one which theolo- gians will not be likely to accept; although they could not reasonably do otherwise than accept it, if the dogma of a fixed state after death be true. Because reason assures us, that such a doctrine is most unjust; and, if reason in this consideration be self-deceived, then it certainly may be in any other consideration, and, therefore, in that of God's will concerning us. l6o FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. I am descended from devotional parents. Being mora! and law-abiding themselves, they naturally sought to have their descendants so. It is certain, therefore, that I inher- ited a moral and religious nature, or tendency. I have never found it necessary to make any special efforts in order to live, what is called, a moral, or even religious life ; rather have I found that my hereditary tendencies and early teachings and example, have made it hard for me to 4i kick against the pricks, " or not to worship the God of my fathers. I know others who, descending from notoriously immoral progenitors, and brought up in the surroundings of their birth, have lived and died, only to repeat the life and death of their progenitors. It is true, in many cases, they have longed for something better, — better food, better clothing, better associations, better thoughts ; but as the leopard can not change his spots, so they have failed to bet- ter very much their condition, and in their death have simply showed how their fore-fathers died. Now, I have no doubt whatever that many of those have made more exer- tion after a higher life, than some who have shone in church and society as suns ; yet, while the latter are eternally blessed for their little effort, the former are eternally damned for their strenuous but fruitless endeavor after a better life. In other words, while the one is blessed for doing what he never did; the other is damned for not doing what he could not possibly do. That the God whom I adore, could so judge, I can not, I will not, believe ; for thus believing, I should be guilty of blaspheming his most holy name. Again, it is certain that while some are born with highly developed devotional powers, others are born with scarcely any at all. In the former case, the child is almost sure to be religious; in the latter case, almost sure not to be so. As some are born with good eyes, and become sharp-shooters, so some are born with highly developed, spiritual sight, and UNREASONABLE DOGMAS. l6l become leaders in the moral and spiritual world. But is it possible that a just God can blame me, because I am not a sharp-shooter, when my eyes were such from my birth, as to make it impossible for me to see well ? In like manner, is it possible that a just God can damn me for not being relig- ious, when in my very nature I lack the devotional elements ? Let those who will, believe such calumny against the wise God and Father of all ; I will not. Here will I stand, God helping me ; though every created being in the universe be guilty of injustice, I will never believe that the Fountain of truth and life can be. Therefore I do not believe in the doc- trine of a fixed state after death, because of the injustice necessarily attending it. Nor could I believe in such doc- trine for the following reason : God is necessarily every- where present, pervading and upholding all things. He is therefore present in this world. But there are no evidences of a fixed state in this life ; on the contrary, all is constant change. Every sun-rise brings with it new opportunities, every sun-set carries with it lost ones. The possibilities of improvement remain throughout our life, — hope never dies. There being but one God, or one universal Mind ruling and pervading all things, it would seem most reasonable to be- lieve that as He governs here, so He governs elsewhere ; and that, therefore, since during our present life the possi- bilities of improvement remain with us, so throughout the life which is to come, such possibilities must continue. The Judgment-day is not a far off event, but is ever with us, and the character of that judgment, is well and certainly known. It is far better expressed in the Theosophic doc- trine of karma than in so-called Evangelical theology. The words of the Vedas are certainly true and just : " According as a man act, and according as he believes, so will he be : a man of good acts will become good ; a man of bad acts, bad." Inasmuch as Methodism is most uncompromising in 1 62 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. asserting the fixed nature of the future state, Merton was glad for this reason also that he had left its fold. Having ceased to act in union with his old people, Mer- ton 's congregation invited him to preach to them independ- ently until he should be called away, or while his duties permitted. This he did, at the same time giving especial at- tention to the performance of such duties as might hasten his admission, as a minister, into the Protestant Episcopal Church. The several kindly written letters, received from the bishop of that church assured him of a most hearty wel- come; but he would have to receive the rites of confirmation, and ordination, before he could assume any ministerial work; for as yet he had never been ordained, not even by the church he had left; and even if he had been, such ordi- nation is not accepted as valid by Episcopalians. It was therefore to such preparation as was required for the recep- tion of these rites, that he gave his particular attention. It must not be supposed from what we have said, that there was any severe labor connected with Merton 's entering the Prot- estant Episcopal Church. As far as the rite of confirmation was concerned, there was nothing for him to do but merely to receive it; and the same might almost be said with regard to his ordination, the learning required for ordination to the priesthood being but little in amount, and common in quality. Even this little is frequently greatly lessened by the bishop, who has power by canon to dispense with the ex- aminations in Hebrew, Greek, and L,atin, the only parts of the examination that could be considered at all difficult. The examinations in the ancient languages mentioned, even when fully borne, may be passed by an applicant who has but little more than an elementary knowledge of them. Merton was not a little pained to leave some of the peo- ple of his charge; especially may this be said of the people at Budds,who had always been most attentive to all his UNREASONABLE DOGMAS. 1 63 wants, and faithful in their attendance on the services. Not one unpleasant thing ever occurred to mar his happiness; but their kindness seemed to increase the longer he preached to them. Such friends as these, it was painful to leave; but the pain was as that which precedes the joy that a child is born into the world. Although not yet fully born into the light, Merton's soul was struggling to get entirely free; and the sense of comparative freedom, with the pros- pect of still wider liberty, made him pour forth his soul in thanksgiving to God. As angels rolled away the stone that stopped the upward flight of Jesus, so had God re- moved one at least that had kept the soul of Merton shut up in sepulchral gloom. It was indeed his first resurrection. THE SONG OF CREATION. BY HENRY TRURO BRAY. Shining seraphim who are watching by the tomb-imprisoned Lord, Waiting the prophetic moment, serving the Eternal Word; Decked with majesty and power from Jehovah's awful throne, — Tell me, ye celeatial legates, if ye've rolled away the stone. List the glad chorus which floats on the wave: Light is now streaming through the gloom of the grave. Hark! the peals of jubilant heaven fill the universal deep, Rising from th' angelic choir, surging 'neath the Eternal's feet; Breaking all the awful stillness which pervades the dark abyss, Filling every heart with rapture, deluging the world in bliss. List the glad chorus which floats on the wave: Death is made captive in his kingdom, the grave. Hark! the tremulous, resonant harmony pulsates through cre- ation's space, Vivifying nature's being, quickening it with streams of grace. Rushing on, the seraph-chanters thrill the globes with cadent tread, And the sympathetic atoms vibrate deep among the dead. List the glad chorus which floats on the wave: Life is now throbbing in the death of the grave. See these flashes of lightning so vivid! How the deafening thun- [ders roar! Look! the hosts of heaven, prostrate, vail tneir faces, and adore! Nature's soul is all attendant, conscious of these portents dread — From the throne the voice proceedeth : Christ is risen from the dead. Fly ye bright choristers down from on high; Jesus is risen, and man shall not die. CHAPTER XVI. I.OYAI/TY TO TRUTH. Die Unschuld hat im Himmel einen Freund — Innocency has in Heaven a friend. (Schiller: Wilhelm Tell) Lines on the birth of Merton's first little daughter; Beautiful, beautiful sky, Decked with pearls so bright; Palace of angels on high, Flooded with roseate light! Thy worlds forever in harmony roll To the music of God who is harmony's soul. Beautiful, beautiful earth, Beating with life-giving love, Bursting with laughter and mirth, Radiant with light from above! Thy lawns and thy bowers, entrancingly sweet, Are a temple of God where we kneel at His feet. Beautiful, beautiful child, Light that scatters our gloom; Cheerful and trustful and mild, Emblem of life from the tomb! May angels to thee as guardians be given, Directing and guiding thy footsteps to heaven. (H. T. B.) It was only five months after having left his old asso- ciations, when Merton was ordained to the ministry of the Protestant Episcopal Church. He loved the pulpit as the place where reason, as a flower, .should scatter its perfume, and display its beauty. Merton was probably never entirely free from doubt. But fully believing that there is a substratum of truth in all religious teaching, and not as yet being fully convinced as 164 LOYALTY TO TRUTH. I 65 to what that substratum is, or is not, and fearing lest by yielding to his doubts, he might lose the truth itself, Merton decided to keep on, ready and determined, at all times, to cast to the winds any belief that he held, as soon as he should become convinced of its falsity. While in doubt, he might hesitate to speak; but when convinced that something taught as a vital, religious principle, was only a base superstition, nothing could prevent him from asserting his convictions. Merton believed that man is first of all, and more than all, accountable to God for the privileges of life, and that the highest privilege of life is the enjoyment of reason. It is the reason that elevates man above the brute creation ; and it is by the use of reason that man determines the ways of nature and of nature's God. Through the reason, there- fore, does God reveal himself; and by the use of reason does man make himself most like God. The man, there- fore, who stifles his convictions, and silences the thoughts of his soul, interrupts the divine revelation, prevents the Divine Being from manifesting himself, and thus most clearly sins against God, the Holy Ghost. True it is that man, not being God, must frequently err in the use of his reason; but so is it equally true that man, being man, without the free and untramelled use of his reason, must * fall to the position of a slave, lower himself to the 1 lane of the brute, and make it impossible that he should be the subject of a virtuous thought or act. Merton was always led by a love for the truth, conscious that by a knowledge of the truth alone could man hope to get salvation. Loyal to Truth, he could not be forced to be- tray her, whether by threat of ecclesiastical censure, or by conscious fear of the loss of position. Should the reader have asked, what is the truth; Merton would have answered: It is the agreement of the idea with the facts and conditions of 1 66 FOOTPRINTS OP A SOUL. the thing under cognition ; but that man can not be held accountable for not having, at all times, correct ideas about the objects of his cognition, but only for acting according to the truth, as far as he is able to determine it. The man who does wrong, while striving to do right, is moved by a noble motive, though accomplishing no virtuous act, and such a man can not reasonably be condemned of sin against God; but the man who happens to do right, without putting forth a conscious effort to accomplish it, can not be said to have performed a virtuous act, nor to have been the subject of a noble motive. Such an act is no more virtuous or noble than the act of a dog in following its master, or of the cow in coming to her milking-place. One may, therefore, do right, and yet be a great sinner; because he may not have used his reason to determine whether the act he w r as about to perform, should or should not be done. Thus he hid in a napkin the greatest gift of God to man. God as God is free to act; and his action, since He is infinite, must at all times be agreeable to the truth; but man as man, being the child of God, and therefore godlike, while he also may be at all times free to act, can not act at all times agreeably to the truth, but only to his convictions, or to the truth as far as he is able to determine it. The man who is loyal to his own convictions, while in his heart at all times on the side of truth, will sometimes be found supporting an error. This follows from the fact that he is not God; it does not show a lack of goodness or virtue. On the other hand, the man who is not loyal to his own convictions, can never be called a good or virtuous man; nor can he ever really know the truth: for in the heart thus false to God and itself, nothing truly good or beautiful can take up its abode, much less truth, the supreme good of all. Nothing could make Merton false to his own convictions. This was clear- ly shown at the time of his ordination. While passing his LOYALTY TO TRUTH. 1 67 examination in Systematic Theologj', he boldly said that he could not accept the examiner's view of a question, and insisted on his own. The examiner thereupon appealed to the work of Pearson on the Creed. Merton replied that he was sorry for the church that Pearson had held such views, as it most clearly proved to his mind the author's ignorance of almost the first principles of science; that how- ever high Pearson might stand in the estimation of church- men, he himself could not accept his conclusions on the subject in question. The examiner then replied that Mer- ton 's view was heretical. To this charge Merton answered, that if his views were heretical, so much the worse for the church; that if they ordained him, they would be obliged to ordain a heretic, since he would not change his view of the matter for Pearson or any number of Pearsons, unless they were able to prove, to his satisfaction, that he was in error. "Allow me to call the bishop, Mr. Merton, that we may have his opinion on the question," said the examiner. The bishop having been asked the question, answered precisely as Merton had. " But, bishop," said the examiner, " you are certainly wrong; for Pearson holds that such a view is heretical." " What does Pearson say?" asked the bishop. The examiner then took Pearson, and slowly read his views, whereupon the bishop said: " All right; I stand corrected. I presume neither Mr. Merton nor myself wishes to be at war with good old Pearson, who has weathered so many storms. I take him to be a very good navigator in these perilous times. ' ' "Well, bishop, "replied Merton, "I do not know whether I am really right or not; but I do know that a man should think too much of his own opinion to change it, simply be- cause Pearson, who was but a man like other men, teaches the contrary. He gives me no sufficient reason, in what he 1 68 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUI.. says, for abjuring my view and adopting his. If I am heret- ical, it is better that it should be known, and that I should now know it, that I may stop before it is too late. I can not change my view of the question simply to conform to those of Pearson, nor for anything less than sufficient reasons; and these have not been adduced. ' ' "It is not a matter of such great importance," said the bishop; "I presume differences do no harm in the long run. They only serve to stir us up a little." "I can't think it right, bishop, "said the examiner, "to give it up in this way. Mr. Merton should certainly know that Pearson is with us a standard work; and that men who come to us, are expected to conform to the standards in use among us. I myself feel like protesting against such freedom." " Tisn't a very vital matter," replied the bishop. " It may be Mr. Merton will come over to Pearson's side yet; I think he will at least." "It may not be a very vital matter," answered the ex- aminer; "and I presume it is not. Yet I insist that no one should be ordained in our church who cannot heartily as- sent to the teachings of such standard writers as Pearson." "Did you yourself never have a doubt in your heart about many matters that by some would be called essentials of the faith?' ' asked the bishop. "I do not know that I am called upon to answer such questions, ' ' replied the examiner. "One thing sure, if I have had such doubt, nobody has ever heard me express it; and what isn't expressed, can't do much mischief. There' s an old saying that a sin unrevealed is half forgiven; and there's much of truth in this. A heresy unexpressed will not have the effect of drawing honest souls away from the truth." "I differ with you totally, sir," re- plied Merton. "If one thing be more detestable than another, that which is the most detestable of all, is a LOYALTY TO TRUTH. 1 69 man who believes in his heart one thing, and teaches another. Nor is the man much better whose heart is eaten with doubt, when he declares that it is the tem- ple of certainty. If I had, as you say you have had, doubt about the truth of what I preached, I would either state that doubt, or I would refuse to preach on that subject. Not to do this, would be to deceive my hearers, and debase my own consciousness. L,et me be ten-thousand heretics rather than one deceiver. But I fear the pulpits are full of men who do just as, we infer from what you say,, you have done." "I don't think," said the examiner, "that I have given you any right to make any inferences whatever. If you choose to make such inference, you have the liberty of doing so. ' ' ' ' I must say, ' ' replied the bishop, ' 'one would naturally make such inference from what you have said. But let us hear no more about this matter. If it were a vital question, I should hesitate to proceed any further, before getting Mr. Merton's assent to it; but it is not. It is impossible to get all men to be of the same mind. If Mr. Merton determines to adhere to his opinion of the matter, I shall not make it a reason for refusing ordination. I do not think his view can justly be considered heretical." ' 'All right, bishop, ' ' replied the examiner; "I am will- ing to be governed by you in the case; but it does appear to me that according to Pearson, it is an heretical view." CHAPTER XVII. THE CALL OF DUTY. This above all, — To thine own self be true; And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man. (S.'zakspere.) Merton had now been settled for some time as the min- ister of a very nice congregation, in one of the southern states. The parish had been in a declining state for several years; and at the time of Merton 's coming into it, it was thought to be almost beyond recover} 7 . But Merton' s zeal became everywhere manifest, in the Sunday school, in the pulpit, and in his pastoral visits. In the pulpit he seemed on fire with the intense earnest- ness of his soul. No one could doubt his sincerity: he preached most to himself; and when thus preaching, he ap- peared to convince himself of the truth of the cause he was so earnestly pleading; and in convincing himself, he con- vinced his hearers. His congregation grew, his people loved, trusted, almost worshiped him. But as the "gods do not give man all things at once, ' ' such peace and pros- perity were too much for one man to enjoy. The cup for man's bliss, in this world, though shallow, is scarcely ever filled ; but his cup for misery, though deep, is frequently running over. But Merton' s people were apparently trying to fill his cup with bliss. They were working in harmony; they attended faithfully on the services of the church; they rejoiced at his presence in the pulpit, and in their homes; and they ministered gladly to all his wants. While day by day they thus increased the contents of his cup of bliss, they added nothing to his cup of misery, but sought to take from it the little it contained. They were a generous, whole- 170 THE CALL OF DUTY. 171 souled, noble people; and Merton loved them as if his own. It was a hot, sultry climate; the atmosphere acted on one like a steam-bath; and Merton lied been accustomed to a northern temperature. The fact that he w 7 as not as yet fully acclimated, exposed him to various prevailing dis- eases; and his extraordinary labors weakened his system, making him still less capable of resisting disease. Finally all the premonitory symptoms of yellow fever came upon him; pains in the back and limbs, yellowness of the skin and eyes, and supraorbital headache; yet he would not desist from his labors until compelled for the lack of strength to stand. After a sickness of about ten days, he again was able to move around; but so great was his weak- ness that the people pressed him to take a vacation, and go north for two months to recuperate. On the day of his leaving, it was everywhere known that yellow fever was in the city ; and the physician who attend- ed Merton after coming north, insisted that he had had the disease; and of the truth of this physician's diagnosis, neither Merton, nor those who saw him, had any doubt whatever. From a loving mother, faithful brother, and a most de- voted wife, Merton received every possible care; and he himself made use of every means calculated to aid in the res- toration of his health. But with all the care and attention he received, it was nevertheless at least two months before any degree of health and strength returned. Even then he was pale, weak and emaciated; but he felt more cheerful, a little stronger, and on a fair road to recovery. At this time he wrote to his vestry, telling them of his condition, and offering to return immediately, if they were in need of his presence. To this letter the wardens replied, begging him not to return. "It would be madness in you, ' ' they wrote, "to return to this place, at the present time. Your presence would only add fuel to the flame, as you 172 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. have not yet been fully acclimated. Don't come back under any circumstances. All your people that could get away, have left the town. ' ' Weak and broken as he was, Merton would have re- turned to the town in a moment, when the yellow scourge was at its height, had the wardens or his people expressed the least wish for his presence; but they earnestly advised him not to return. They being on the ground, and being well acquainted with all the attending circumstances, should know better than Merton what was needed, and what he should do; and Merton therefore properly enough deter- mined to act according to their j udgment. Now there hap- pened to be a clergyman in the South, free from danger himself, who for certain reasons was an inveterate enemy to Merton. This man took it upon himself to force Merton to return. Merton informed him that he held himself, weak as he was, subject to the call of the people. Such information was not enough for this clergyman, who, it would appear, would not have gone into mourning, in case of Merton's death. Finally he plotted against Merton with the bishop; and being an old acquaintance of this clergyman, the bishop was led to side with him, and thus became an enemy to Mer- ton, even taking away the small appropriation that had been given him to assist in building the parish up, thus making it impossible for Merton to go back, even when sufficient strength returned. Dear as this people and minister were to each other, they were driven asunder by the machinations of an evil-hearted clergyman. Merton was always ready to go where duty called him ; but he was not such as could be forced by an enemy into doing anything against his will. Had the members of his congregation expressed any desire for his presence, he undoubtedly would have gone back immedi- ately, on the very wings of love, although it would, in all THE CALL OF DUTY. 1 73 probability, have cost him his life. But we do not mean by this that he would have thought it wise to return. We mean that he would have laid down his life rather than that his people should ask for his presence in vain, or think of him as being afraid of the disease. But as he did not think it, as no one should, a sign of bravery to sacrifice one's life, where duty does not call; he obeyed the advice of his people, rather than the dictation of his enemies. If the belief were true, that the prayers of a minister at the dying bed, or the recep- tion of a sacrament by the dying, could materially affect the future of the soul, then there would be no question but that, weak as he was, Merton should have gone back, even against the expressed wish of his people; but such belief he did not and could not accept ; nor did he believe that any enlightened and unprejudiced mind can. He never had any faith in death-bed repentance; and he fully believed that one good nurse was worth any number of praying priests, at the bed- side of a sick man. That the mercy of God is conditioned on the prayers of a minister, or heaven opened by the power of the church, he considered not only an absurd but a blasphe- mous claim. Thus believing, the only use, in his judgment, he could be to the sick, would be to act as a nurse; and know- ing that his weakness and inexperience rendered him unfit to act in that capacity, he concluded it wise to accept the ad- vice of competent men who warned him not to return; and to stay where his life, in all probability, would be spared as a blessing to those most dear to him, and dependent on his ex- ertions. And although, as he afterwards learned, the bishop of the diocese was not pleased at his decision, he doubted not that any sane and unprejudiced man would have approved his course. The bishop was by nature kind-hearted and most affable; but he was now very old, and so weak-minded that, influenced as we have said, he was easily led to act detrimentally to Merton 's interests. 174 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. Where duty calls one, there should he always be found, serving God and humanity. Thus performing our part, danger may surround, and threaten us on every side; but greater is the danger that must ever threaten him who shuns the performance of his duty. In the former case, while the death of the body is at most only contingent, the life of the soul is certain, because discharging one's duty ennobles the nature, and tends to the elevation of the whole race; but in the latter case, while the life of the body is probable, the death of the soul is inevitable, because the wilful avoidance of one's duty, debases the higher nature, and tends to the degradation of humanity. The preservation of the body at such a cost, is vastly too expensive. Here it is certainly true: He that would lose his life, shall save it; and he that would save his life, shall lose it. Nevertheless, the body is no less the work of God than is the soul, though the office of the former is considered less noble than that of the latter. It is, therefore, a very grave sin to wilfully destroy the body, or injure any of its members. And even where one's actions unintentionally result in the death of the body, great sin must be incurred, if such result should have been prevented by the proper use of reason. Many a man has been given, especially by the press, the death of a hero; when wisdom as- sures us, it was the death of a fool. The noble nature shuns no danger that ought to be encountered, and runs into no danger that ought not to be faced. Where duty had called Merton, there he never knew what it was to be afraid; but he always thought it most unwise, if not sinful, to rush un- reasonably into danger. Says Aristotle, than whom proba- bly no nobler person ever lived, and whose wisdom has, perhaps, never been equalled: ''ftoV iirel r) dvdpeia iariu 17 ^eXrlarr] e£is Trepl (p6(3ovs Kal ddppij, del 8e p.rj6' oi>tu>s ciis 01 Opaaels p.r]0 ovtios us 01 8ei\oi drjXov ws r) p.eat) dt&decris Opaavrr/TOS Kal 5ei\ias earlv dvdpeia .... H yap dvdpela aKoKovdrjcns t4> \b"yip iariv, 6 be \670s rb Ka\bi> THE CALL OF DUTY. 1 75 acpecaOac xeksoec. Aco xac \> pi) oca toutov bnopeviuv aura, 6utos lnrot e^effTijxev rj Opaffus. '0 fisv ouv dtcXos xac a py 8sc (pofiscTac, 6 xs Opaaus xac a prj 8zc Oappic' 6 <5' avdpstos apyu) d o£t, xac raurin psaoS earcv, C A yap av 6 XoyoS xsXsurj, raura xac Oappzc xac j3scTac — Since true manliness is the best state in rela- tion to fear and rashness, and since it is necessary that the truly brave should be neither such as the rash man is nor such as is the coward, it is evident that the middle state be- tween rashness and cowardice, is true manliness. True bravery is obedience to the reason, and reason bids us strive for that which is noble. Therefore, he who, when surrounded by danger, is not guided by reason, is either cowardly or rash. The coward fears where he should not, and the rash man is fearless where he should not be. But the truly brave acts in both instances as he should, and, therefore, fills the middle position ; for he is both fearless and fearful as rea- son directs him." (Eud. Eth. Ill, 1, [3-4, 10-12.] ) A*s far as the fear of death has affected me, I have often longed to die, to escape, as it were, from a prison, and to see if perchance there be something better in store for me ; no less than to be forever free from a world, where the insincere and the pretentious are received with the plaudits of the crowd, while the candid and truly learned seek in vain for recognition. It can not be doubted that humanity is as greatly deceived, as it is given to deception. Mankind likes flattery, and to be made the heir of great expectations. It is this in man that offers such great opportunities to the hypocritical, the insincere and the pretentious, whether in the pulpit or elsewhere ; it is this that gives the holy knave and the rascally politician such open fields to reap their golden harvests. But longed as I have to die, reason bids me wait my time ; to be brave, sincere and true, no less for my own sake than as an example to others. I wonder not, however, at people committing suicide ; for it takes a brave 176 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. man to withstand the many evils to which more especially the good are frequently subjected; the less brave, becoming disheartened, seek rest in death. As Agathon says: "aiiXoi fipoT&v yap rod rroveiv rjaaJj/jievoi eavelv tpCxnv — Base mortals, being worsted in the conflict of life, prefer to die. ' ' But the truly brave will abide his time, doing as best he can, whatever his hands may find to do; showing a noble example of patience and suffering to his own and to others, hoping thereby to ennoble his own character, and to elevate the race. He will not sacrifice his life nor jeopardize it, except for noble and worthy ends; but where the voice of reason calls him, there, if it be proper, he is willing to yield his life into the hands of Him who gave it. It was in this spirit that Merton acted with reference to his work in the South. The act of the bishop, however, in withdrawing from the parish its appropriation, was designed to make it im- possible for Merton to be supported. After waiting several months to see if the bishop would not relent, Merton sent the secretary of the vestry his resignation, to take immed- iate effect, thus severing all relations with the parish he could not fail to like, and with a people he could not fail to love. If ten thousand lives were given him, and the use of ten thousand tongues, yet he would not forget their kind- ness, nor cease to speak of them with gratitude and love. It was a short time after his resignation, that Merton received the following letter from one of the^ principal communicants: ' ' My dear Friend ; — I must write you to express my dis- tress at the news of your resignation of the charge of our Church. I have seen nearly all the people, and they express the greatest regret and distress; and all are resolved to ac- cept nobody else. We need you so much, — indeed I can not reconcile myself to the idea of your never coming back. Will THE CALL OF DUTY. 1 77 you not come back to us? All are so much distressed at your not returning. Can you not be induced to come back? Why should you care for what any one else might do or say , when all of us want you. Do say you will come back. I can not express to you the disappointment of your people. ' ' "Your friend, M. C." To answer in the affirmative was impossible. The bar- riers an unkind bishop had set up, were too high for Merton to surmount. At this uncalled-for act of the bishop, Merton could not help deeply grieving; but in those periods of deep despondency, his wife would buoy him up; and no man could have long despaired, with such a source of life and strength so near at hand. Ich sprach zur Sonne: "Sprich, was ist die Liebe?" Sie gab nicht Antvvort, gab niir goldnes Licht. Ich sprach zur Blume: "Sprich, was ist die Liebe?" Sie gab mir Duefte, doch die Antwort nicht. Ich sprach zum Ew'gen: "Sprich, was ist die Liebe?" Ist's heil'ger Ernst? ist's suesse Taendelei?" Da gab mir Gott ein Weib, ein treues, liebes, Und nimmer fracht' ich was die Liebe sei. {Ritterhaics.) 12 CHAPTER XVIII. CLERICAL SKEPTICISM. Wisdom from above is pure and without hypocrisy. (St. James.) A/I ERTON now obtained a parish in another state. He had met the bishop, who pressed him to take work in his diocese. "Stay withme, Mr. Merton," he said: "I believe you are the very man I have been looking for. It seems to me God has sent you to me. I will make everything for you as pleasant as I possibly can. I treat my clergy well. I try to act to them as a father, and wish them to treat me as such. Their happiness is mine, and I make it a rule never to betray their confidence. If you stay with me, I think you will not regret it. We have a flourishing state, and the church work of the diocese is in a flourishing condition. Men and money are all that's wanted. Help me build up this great work. ' ' The bishop appeared so affable, and spoke so kindly, that Merton resolved to accept his invitation ; and immedi- ately took work under him. He had not been long in the diocese, before he met a clergyman who was rector of a neighboring parish, when the following conversation took place: "Well, Mr. Merton, how do you like your present posi- tion?" "I am very well pleased with it," replied Merton. "You, I believe, have been in this diocese a great many years. From what diocese did you come?" "I came from Pennsylvania here; but I heartily wish I had never left that state. ' ' "Why?" asked Merton. "You have -a good parish, and a loyal people. On the whole, it seems to me, you 178 CLERICAL SKEPTICISM. 1 79 should be quite a happy man. ' ' "Happiness, Mr. Merton, is a word. As an existing state, it is rarely, and perhaps never, found. For my part, I no longer hope to attain to such a state of mind. ' ' "I do not know, sir," answered Merton; "but it seems to me that a man filling the position you fill, should not only have the hope of being happy, but even the present experience of happiness." : ' I know, Mr. Merton, ' ' replied the clergyman, ' 'that it is much to say I have lost hope; but I have had great discour- agement. When I came here, the bishop made me great promises. I was at first the chief minister in this diocese, and the bishop's right-hand man. I was made the head of all the educational institutions; and the bishop sought to advance my interests. Things were soon changed. The large institution over which I presided, burned to the ground; and there are not wanting those who believe that the bishop burned it. One thing is certain: at the time of the destruc- tion of the institution, there had been in it, for several days, an emissary of the bishop. This fact made out a strong case against the bishop, inasmuch as he was known to be opposed to the site of the institution; and the further fact that he afterwards used all his powers to remove the centre of ed- ucational work, and finally succeeded in doing it, almost, made the case complete against him. I do not say much about it myself; but I am sure that the people of my parish believe the bishop was a party to the burning up of my institution." "It is a very grave charge even to suspect one of doing," replied Merton. ' 'The bishop has been very gracious to me; and I hope we shall be good friends. I am sorry that you have been disappointed in your hopes; but all of us are more or less. ' ' "Disappointed, Mr. Merton, is hardly a name for it. I have l8o FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. been grieved, hurt .deeply wounded, at my treatment. I have a thousand times wished I had never seen the diocese. It has so discouraged me that I am almost unfit for any work. I tell you, between the worry and duties of a parish minister, and the mischief- working power of a jealous and unfriendly bishop, there is little chance of rest or peace; as for happi- ness, it is simply out of the question." "Even with all your trouble," replied Merton, "you have the satisfaction that you are doing God's work, and of having upon you his promised blessing. After all, that is more than all else. ' ' "You are but young as yet in the work, Mr. Merton. Things will not look as green to you sometime in the future, as now. Experience brings great changes over man's heart and mind. ' ' "I presume you are right as to that. Even in my own case, I am conscious of very great changes that have passed over me, within the last few years. Only a dead man is not subject to change. But granting that, yet it still is true, that no work is so noble, as that of trying to lift up fallen hu- manity." "Fallen humanity! Mr. Merton, what do you mean by such language? Do you mean to say that you believe in what is called the fall of man?' ' "No, sir; not as generally understood. I could not think of believing that by one man's sin, all mankind fell; that Adam is the trunk, and we the branches. The doctrine of evolution, now universally received in some form or other, has shown that such a belief is absurd. But I do believe that we all have come short of the glory of God; and that hu- manity, as a whole, is in great need of holy examples, and fearless and scholarly instructors who may lift them up, by pointing them out the way to a holier and better life. ' ' "That is acceptable doctrine, Mr. Merton. I feared you CLERICAL SKEPTICISM l8l believed that humanity had fallen into some big ditch or other, dug by the theologians of days gone by. I am glad you have graduated out of such crudity. It is a noble work, I confess, to be engaged in raising mankind up into a higher life; but much of the pleasure derived from such activity, is embittered by the sense of having all around us scheming priests and plotting bishops. Indeed, I have often wished I had never seen the ministry, nor put on a surplice. ' ' "I can not exactly understand you; "said Merton. "I am glad I am a minister. I think no work gives such blessed fruits, and that no life can be so well spent, as that of a faith- ful minister of God. ' ' "I think you are exaggerating, Mr. Merton, the value of ministerial labors; but that is quite natural. For myself I doubt not that I could have done more good in the world , had I chosen exclusively educational work; nor do I think the rewards of such labor are second to any." "The works of the mind and its education are truly ex- cellent," replied Merton; "but surely the work and educa- tion of the soul are vastly superior. The minister has to do with educating the soul, while the teacher has to do with the intellect only. ' ' "You forget, Mr. Merton, that the minister, nine times out often, deals with, and speaks of, only unknown quanti- ties; while the teacher has to do only with known realities. The foundations of priestly labors are based on faith: knowl- edge is beyond his sphere. You remember the words of Tennyson : 'We have but faith: we can not know; For knowledge is of things we see; And vet we trust it comes from thee, A beam in darkness: let it grow.' On the other hand, the work of the teacher is based upon experimental facts. The work of the former is of some other 1 82 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. world, heavenly, but of which nothing whatever is certainly known; while the work of the latter is of this world, earthly, and therefore fully comprehended. I think on the whole, Mr. Merton, putting the value of the work with the certainty of the instruction, that the teacher's position is the more desir- able. I certainly wish that I had given my life to the work of teaching. No work can be more divine than that of train ing youthful minds; no building more divine than that which is given to such noble work. I always feel more of the Holy Ghost when inculcating the truths of science, than when reading many of those nice-sounding, unsubstanti- ated, and incredible platitudes of the prayerbook." "The pray erbook," replied Merton, "may contain many things hard to believe, and harder still to understand; but there is surely a vast difference between a place where mental instruction is given and a church where God Al- mighty is worshiped and glorified. The school is built by man; the church is built by God." "You are now giving us a little more of unsubstantiated doctrine, Mr. Merton. A building is nothing of itself, — neith- er holy nor unholy. It is the work done within the building that gives character to it; and, as I said before, there can be no higher work than that of training youthful minds. There- fore the school-building is as much a temple built by God, as is the cathedral. The church is an institution founded and continued in the world by good-minded men, for the purpose of doing good. This is the most that can be said for it. It is divine so far as its work is divine, and no farther. I am sure that very much of church w r ork is anything else than divine. I must reassert what I have already said: there is no nobler or diviner work than that of the teacher. I hope, however, you may always be as zealous and hopeful, as at present. Nevertheless, I fear that a few more years of active service, in church work, will have a tendency to change your views. CLERICAL SKEPTICISM. 1 83 You will find that there is something more than a naughty world to deal with; you will find some naughty brethren; and perhaps you may find the latter worse foes than the former." "I hope," said Merton, "that your fears may never be realized by me; and that you may yet rejoice that you never chose teaching as a profession. Your life has, in some things, been a disappointment; so your rejoicing may, in God's own time, be unexpectedly great." "Thank you, Mr. Merton. Before we part, allow me to say that what I have said to you, I have said in confidence. I would not speak to every one as I have spoken to you. Please, do not mention my name in connection with the substance of our conversation. It would do no good; it might do much harm." Having promised not to mention his name in connection with the matter of conversation, Merton bade him good- night; but he could not help thinking, how greatly disagree the heart and countenance of the average pulpit orator. Hypocrisy is always and ever bad; but its evil is proportion- ate to the greatness of the subject in the treatment of which man professes to be what he is not. It is difficult to con- ceal the truth in any case; most of all, in religious matters. In the words of Emerson: "Who is the better for the phil- osopher who conceals his accomplishments, and hides his thoughts from the waiting world? Hides his thoughts! Hide the sun and moon. Thought is all light, and pub- lishes itself to the universe. It will speak, though you were dumb, by its own miraculous organ. It will flow out of your actions, your manners, and your face." Many as the beauties are that may, as the result of per- sistent efforts, adorn the soul of man; no accomplishments or mental possessions can ever outrank sincerity and truth- ■ fulness. CHAPTER XIX. WORDS AND WORKS. Justitiac partes su?it non violare homines, vericundiae non offendere — Not to wrong man, nor offend modesty are principles of justice. (Cicero.) [ T was at the diocesan convention. All the clergy , with the bishop at their head, were met together to consider the matters pertaining to the welfare of the church. After a good deal of clerical electioneering, and maneu- vering, which might well have excited the admiration of the most astute politician, so skilfully is the slate prepared, and with such tactics are the favorites elected, all the dirty and rusty machinery being at the same time carefully oiled with spiritual unction, that as little friction as possible may be created, the various committees were appointed, and the of- ficers and delegates elected, and things shaped in accordance with the determination of the ruling majority, with the ex- ception, perhaps, of those matters over which the bishop himself had exclusive regulation. It was then that the com- mittee of which Merton was a member, was asked to meet, in the evening, in a room, at the residence of the bishop of the diocese. There was at the time a friend visiting Merton, who was most refined in manners, most gentlemanly in appear- ance, very scholarly, and one of the most skilful physicians and surgeons in the land. This gentleman had been brought up a Quaker; but was then what is generally called an un- believer. Merton was very desirous of bringing his friend into the church; and thought it would be wise to introduce him to the bishop. To this end he invited the gentleman to accompany him, on the evening in question, to the bishop's residence, knowing that the bishop would be there, and that is 4 WORDS AND WORKS. 1 85 there would be a good opportunity for introduction and con- versation. The gentleman readily consented; for he ex- pected a pleasant time with the bishop, who was fat enough for a jolly, good-natured prelate. The members of the committee being hard at work pre- paring the reports, Merton was obliged to leave his friend in the care of the bishop; and he hoped that by such inter- course with the head of the diocese, his friend might be in- fluenced to come into the church. The bishop sat in a large, easy chair, smoking a cigar, and having his feet elevated high upon the back of another chair. While in this position, the bishop was guilty of con- duct which is everywhere regarded as indicative of the low- est vulgarity. Every one was astonished; and Merton felt as if he should cry for the rocks and hills to fall on him, that he might be hidden from the gaze of his friend, who ap- peared filled with righteous indignation. The work of the committee having been finished, Mer- ton leaving the residence of the bishop, passed into the open air, in company with his friend. No sooner had they gained the street, than his friend exclaimed: "Great God! Is that your bishop! By Jove! he beats a cow-boy. That beats all I have ever heard, or conceived of, in my life. Solomon sa) T s there is nothing new under the sun, and he is supposed to have been a wise man; but he little knew of the many in- ventions of this wonderful age; he never was introduced to the head of this diocese. Your bishop should have been sent to the World's Fair; even now he would make a fine addition to Barnum's museum, if the monkeys didn't expel him. After this my faith in evolution will be greatly in- creased; for I swear no monkey living in the days of Solo- mon, could be guilty of such conduct, and yet remain in simian society; and if to-day it should be, its fellows would beat its brains out with a cocoanut shell." 1 86 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. "My dear doctor," said Merton,"I am no less shocked than you. While I never thought the bishop a very re- fined or very polite gentleman, I have had no cause for supposing he was insulting. It may be we should consider the act wholly unpremeditated." "Nonsense, Mr. Merton; you know better." "Well, doctor," said Merton, "let that pass; and in order to restore your usual equanimity, I 'will tell you something ridiculous indeed." "If you have anything of that kind, Mr. Merton, let us have it. Perhaps I can laugh myself out of the rage I am in.' ' ' 'One morning, ' ' continued Merton, ' 'when I was rector of St. Peters, I,o wton, I heard a knock at the door. On open- ing it, I saw a clerically dressed gentleman holding a valise in his hands. He appeared a stranger to me, and to have a wild, almost insane look about his eyes." " 'Good morning, sir,' he said. 'This is the Rev. Mr. Merton, I believe. I am just coming from the mountains. Please excuse the absence of my clerical tie. I really had no time to make my toilet.' " 'Are you a minister of an Episcopal church there?' I asked. " 'Yes, sir. Don't you remember me, Mr. Merton? lam surprised. Some people are that way. They don't remem- ber names nor faces. I may forget a name, but I never for- get a face. I think the faculty of remembering names and faces one of the most useful to man; but, of course, I readily excuse you, as we were never very well acquainted. Still, I think it a duty devolving on the profession, to study how best to remember names. Don't you think so, Mr. Merton?' '"Yes, sir,' I replied. T certainly would like to remember names better than I do; however, I recognize your counte- nance. I have seen you somewhere; where I know not.' " 'O, Mr. Merton,' he said, 'how very forgetful! I am WORDS AND WORKS. 187 the Rev. Mr. Insanitas who was present at your ordination to the priesthood.' " ' Excuse me, Mr. Insanitas,' I replied, ' I had forgotten your appearance ; however, I remember you now. Come in, sir, and take dinner with us. It is almost dinner hour.' " ' Now I am in your study, Mertou', he said, ' perhaps you would like to know, why I am here. I will tell you. A few days ago I left the little cabin where I live by myself, and went out calling. About half-past three or four o'clock, I called on Mrs. So-and-so, who, as usual, received me very politely. Almost unco isciously the time passed away ; and the hour for tea having arrived, I was invited to take tea with her. As Mr. So-and-so was absent in the mountains, and would not return for some days, I thought it would be a favor to the lady, should I prolong my visit a little. So after tea we sat down, and talked about the affairs of the church until eight o'clock. I then felt a chill coming over me, and expressed my fears to the lady, saying I wished 1 could lie down a few minutes. She invited me to rest on the lounge, and gave me a shawl to cover myself with. I did so, and the rest and warmth seemed to help me. While thus resting, she told me it was nine o'clock, but that I had no need to hurry, unless I felt able to go. I told her I would leave in a few minutes. Before I knew it, I was fast asleep, and did not awake again before half-past ten, when, to my surprise, I discovered the lady had left the house. The next day it was rumored abroad in the village, that the Rev. In- sanitas had gone to the house of Mrs. So-and-so, in the ab- sence of her husband, and taken tea with her, and stayed until very late at night ; that when she desired him to leave, he didn't take the hint ; that finally she went across the road, and asked a neighbor to come over, and put him out of the house ; and that the gentleman replied, that Mr. In- sanitas might go to the devil for all he cared ; that he would 188 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. have nothing to do with such a crazy lunatic. The next morning every kind of disgraceful thing was said ; and in two or three days, reports of tarring and feathering me were current all over the place. Knowing the state of things, I packed my valise, and left. Now, really, if a woman should have come into my cabin, I would have gone through the window, if not through the door, in a minute. I really de- spise the sex ; and I swear I'll do the work no more, which brings me in constant intercourse" with them. Preaching I like well enough ; but pastoral work I do despise, and I'll do it no more.' " What do you think of that, doctor ? I told Mr. Insan- itas, I was very sorry to know that he was so much perse- cuted ; that my experience with the female sex was just op- posite to his ; that I had always found the women my trust- worthy friends ; that I had great pleasure in visiting them ; and that the pastoral work of the ministry was very delight- ful to me." "Well, Merton," replied the doctor, "I think Mr. In- sanitas as you call him, is a fit subject for the lunatic asylum, as your bishop is for the menagerie." " My dear doctor, if one thing more than another tempts me to quit the-work of the ministry, it is the knowledge of the inferior manhood which enters it." " It is rather late for you to know that, Merton: I sup- posed it was a fact known to all. It has been known to me all my life. Of course a man will find exceptions ; but the rule is that a man who possesses brains, will go where he can use it, and not where, in the very nature of things, it must become as stagnant water." " But, doctor, I think the pulpit should be the very field of labor where the profoundest and highest mind could ac- complish the most for himself and others." " I'll admit, Merton, that it should be ; but I deny that WORDS AND WORKS. 1 89 it is. In proof of this, I think we have seen and heard enough to-night in the person of your bishop. ' ' To this reply Merton could make no answer; and he feared greatly that the example of his bishop had no tend- ency to hasten the time when his friend should enter into the active service of the church. Some time after this, at another diocesan convention, Merton was invited to preach for one of the clerical dele- gates. It was communion-day, and Merton was assisting in the celebration. When the time had come for the con- secration of the elements, all the congregation left the building, with the exception of six or eight. Notwith- standing this fact, Merton saw that the clergyman poured out wine enough for at least twenty communicants. In a few minutes all had communed; but as yet much of the so-called element, representing the blood of Christ, remain- ed unspent, and a little of the element representing the body. Some were therefore invited forward again, and once more they partook of the bread; but no wine was offered them. Merton also received a second time of the bread, but not of the wine. Merton was on his knees, reverently worshipping God, when the celebrant, taking the chalice in his hand, gulped down the wine, as a drunk- en Dutchman drinks his lager. Merton really thought that the clergyman would choke himself; biit he was too well accustomed to strong drink, as was afterwards discovered. A person might charitably think that it was simply a mistake with the celebrant, to consecrate so much wine; but not so. Before consecration he had counted the num- ber of communicants remaining; and besides he did not make the same mistake in consecrating the bread: for of this but little remained after all had partaken the first time. To make it still worse, the celebrant had no sooner entered the vestry, than he deliberately took the vessel in which 190 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. the communion wine was kept, and drank more, at the same time offering it to Merton, who refused. On the way to the clergyman's residence, where Merton had been invited to dine, they passed a beer-saloon, into which the clergy- man invited Merton to enter to drink a glass of ale. Two or three days before the celebration mentioned above, while at the convention, at a reception given at the bishop's res- idence, this same clergyman, being alone with Merton, drew from an inside pocket a bottle, saying: "Take a little, Merton. It is some fine old Irish whiskey." Merton thanked the gentleman, but declined to partake. When speaking of these occurrences, in his own home, Merton said, "Oh, my wife, I was shocked at such irrev- erence, and disgusted at such indecency. That such men can call themselves messengers of the Most High, is enough to make the blood of a noble man run cold." "I sometimes think, Harry," she replied, "that it is a good thing people do not see the hearts of men who stand in the pulpits. I fear, if they did, the cry, 'exeant sacer- dotes,' would soon go forth." Similar instances of such clerical deportment and irrev- erence, as have been given in this chapter, might be in- definitely multiplied. But let it suffice to say that we have only given what we thought necessary, to place before the thoughtful reader another factor in the development of the soul-life of Henry Merton; another proof that much dogma may be believed, while little reason is exhibited. CHAPTER XX. DISHONORABLE CONDUCT. Fundamental justitiae est fides, id est dictorum conventorumque constantia et Veritas — The fundamental principle of justice is faith, which means con- stancy and truth with reference to our words and engagements. (Cicero.) SPHERE is certainly nothing in man so worthy of praise, or so much to be desired, as a proper sense of honor, or the possession of what is rightly called high-mindedness. Honor first of all has reference to the keeping of one's word. " Turpe est fide m vio/are," is an old proverb; and it is un- doubtedly true that in the keeping of his word, the honor- able man is most distinguishable from the dishonorable. Another characteristic of honor or high-mindedness, is the desire to confer benefits and not to receive them. The noble soul will suffer much rather than humiliate himself by ask- ing favors; while at the same time, his great desire is to scat- ter blessings as he goes. In the conferring of benefits, there results a feeling of pleasure; while in the receiving of bene- fits, although good may sometimes thus be accomplished, there results, in the noble heart, a sense of shame. The no- ble nature, therefore, is especially distinguishable from the ignoble by the possession of these two virtues — the keeping of his word, and the conferring of benefits. There are no vir- tues so useful to man as these two. In all our business re- lations, in all our social intercourse, these virtues leave their blessings; while their absence leaves its curse. Now, as no position in life should be thought more ele- vated than that of the priest, it follows that no man should possess these virtues to a higher degree than he. But Mor- ton discovered to his sorrow that either from a lack of these 191 192 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. virtues, or through wickedness in wilfully transgressing the obligations arising from their possession, for the sake of gain or pleasure, priests are frequently found who give but little evidence of possessing any such virtue as high-mind- edness or honor. It was a beautiful morning, and Merton was at his stud- ies, trying to reconcile, however vainly, dogma and reason, when a gentleman came unexpectedly into his room, having opened the door without knocking, or giving any warning of his approach. "Hello! This is the Rev. Merton, I believe. I am Dean Megalauchus. I am on a fishing excursion, and thought it a good time to make your acquaintance. Those delivering the faith once given to the saints, and living so near one an- other, can benefit sometimes by interchanging ideas. ' ' "My own experience, Mr. Megalauchus," replied Mer- ton, "has convinced me that there is little interchange of ideas between clergymen. Each one is wedded to his view, and determined never to be divorced from it. The average clergyman is a hydrozoa: he never lets go of what he at- taches himseli to. This seeming faithfulness is not, as one might think, the result of manliness, in holding on to the truth; but of cowardice, in fearing to acknowledge conscious error. History gives us many names of great and noble men who have consecrated themselves at the altar of Science, and thereby brought us the richest blessings; but few are they who have possessed that noble manliness which en- ables one to abjure some life-long and cherished belief. I am glad to know you dean, and hope you can preach for me next Sunday. ' ' "Well, as to that, Mr. Merton, if I can't preach for you, I can give your people a lecture. What would you like for a subject? You know the wants of your people better than I do ; and should be better able therefore to j udge what sub- DISHONORABLE CONDUCT. 193 ject the> r would prefer to hear me lecture on." "I should say, Mr. Megalauchus,that you would prefer to choose your own subject. Most men have some subject on which they feel themselves able to lecture; and it must be admitted that the highest proof of one's incompetency, is his claim of being able to speak on all subjects. Choose that, sir, on which you are best prepared. ' ' "You know, Mr. Merton, I've been all around the world. Just say what you would like me to speak on. I would as soon speak on one subject as another." "Very strange, Mr. Megalauchus,"said Merton. "The sun goes all around the world every twenty-four hours, yet I would never think of inviting it to deliver a lecture. I do not think mere going around the world, can prepare any man to deliver a lecture worthy to be heard. Among those who have been around the world most frequently, are found many most coarse, and most void of intellectual ability. I hardly think that you would have approved my act, should I have invited the martyred Cook to preach for me on St. Paul's Epistles to the Romans." "Well, it is not likely we can agree on all things, Mr. Merton, and, may be, we must disagree on this. Everybody has his own ideas about such things, and it is useless to try to change them. All I have to say is, name your subject, and let the rest go to me. It will be time enough to find fault, after I shall have failed to give you satisfaction." "Suppose, then, Mr. Megalauchus, that you deliver a lecture on science and religion. It is a subject in which I myself am very much interested, and on which I should be glad to receive any information that you may possess." "Splendid, Mr Merton! You have hit the nail on the head. Nothing could be more suitable to me, and the times are ripe for it. You mean for me to speak on the so-called disagreements between science and religion, do you not?" 194 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUI,. "Yes, sir. Infidelity is rampant in this city. Most of the influential men are unbelievers in the dogmas of Chris- tianity. Few of them go to church at all, and those who go, go more for the sake of social relations than for any be- lief in the four Evangelists. If you can do anything toward healing this sore, I am sure you will assist greatly in spread- ing the faith of which you have just now spoken. " "All right, Mr. Merton. You will see that the lecture is well advertised. If there is one thing I hate in this world, it is speaking to a half-empty house. I would like for you to get it in the papers of the city, as well as speak to your congregation about it. On what day of the week shall I deliver the lecture? ' ' "Thursday evening would be a good time, Mr. Meg- alauchus. I believe no other evening is as good." "All right, all right. I'll be on hand Thursday even- ing; and I promise you a good time. I think I can show your people that the word of God remains true, though every man be a liar. Remember Thursday evening." Agreeable to their understanding, Merton had an item inserted in the newspapers, that the Rev. Mr. Megalauchus, of Churchton, would deliver a lecture at the Episcopal church, the following Thursday evening, on Science and Religion. He also spoke of the matter in his visits. It was about six o'clock on Thursday evening. All preparations had been made, and Merton was momentarily expecting the Rev. Mr. Megalauchus. An hour passed, and yet the gentleman had not come. Merton then began to feel apprehensive lest Mr. Megalauchus should prove to be like some of the many other clergymen he had known, who thought so lightly of their word. When the hour had arrived for Merton to go to the church, he went, taking with him one of his old lectures, determined to deliver it, should Mr. Megalauchus fail to be on hand. The lecture was en- DISHONORABLE CONDUCT. 1 95 titled, "The Earth Past and Future." The Rev. gentle- man did not make his appearance; and Merton entertained the audience as best he could with his own lecture. He felt, however, greatly ashamed that the people of the city should be thus treated by a clergyman of the church. In a day or two Merton addressed Mr. Megalauchus a letter asking an explanation of his conduct. It was answered in due time. "I was so busy , ' ' he said, ' 'with the dear little fishes that I could not bring myself to forsake them. They came to me in such numbers that I might have fed the mul- titude in the wilderness. So attentive to me were they , in all my wants, that I felt it would be disrespectful in me to leave them. Under such circumstances I am sure any one would excuse me. Give my excuse to the people, and tell them I will come again some time, and redeem my promise. ' ' Merton replied: "Although too much pride is an evil, yet I believe every one should think more of himself than of 'the little fishes.' I do not think it an honor to you, sir, that you think more of fishing than of keeping your word inviolate. In the future, believe me, I will endeavor not to disappoint my people with the promise of a man able to lecture on anything, and who has been all around the world simply to learn that his word is of less value than a few little fishes." To this letter Merton received no reply ; nor did he ever see Mr. Megalauchus again; gnd certainly he had no de- sire to. At another time, Merton was visited by a minister who said he was in great need of money, and begged Merton to lend him ten dollars for two or three days. Merton had but little money; and the little he had, he more than needed for home use. But so pitiable were the minister's pleadings, especially to a nature so ill adapted to with- standing the pleadings of misery as Merton' s was, that 196 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. even against the advice of his wife, Merton loaned him the money, on his promise to return it within five days. "Here sir", said Merton, "are the ten dollars. lean ill afford to part with the money at this time; but on your promise to return it within five days, I let you have it." "As sure as there is a God in heaven, Mr. Merton," he said, "I will return you the money by that time." "I will give you ten days, sir," replied Merton, "and, mind you, if the money is not in my hands by that time, I will remember you as a base man." "I am quite willing for you to do so, Mr. Merton;" he said; "but there will be no danger about your money. The minister who would receive such kindness from another, and fail to return it, is not worthy to stand in the pulpit. Believe me, you have no cause to fear." From that day Merton never saw the minister, nor did he ever receive the money. Some persons might chari- tably imagine that his mind was afterwards too much en- grossed with the pursuits after holiness, and with the preaching of the faith once given to the saints, to remem- ber such little trifles; but we hold that charity is greatly misused when given to license dishonorable conduct. There is no place for charity here. On a beautiful Sunday morning, Merton invited Mr. Robins to preach for him, having learned that he greatly desired to do so. The gentleman preached an old- fashioned sermon: there is no salvation outside the church; life only through the blood of Christ; faith and not works brings salvation; the Episcopal minister is the only author- itative minister of Christ; and the Scriptures, as a whole and in every part, are divinely inspired and infallible writ- ings. His sermon was a fair enlargement of what is given us by Schiller, in his great play of Mary Stuart, as the words of that famous but ill-fated woman: DISHONORABLE CONDUCT. I 97 Denn der allein ist es welcher selig macht — For that alone is the faith which giyes salvation Much of the discourse was very offensive to Merton, who thought the action of Mr. Robins very discourteous at least, since he, being a guest, should have respected the well-known feelings of Merton. As soon as the services were over, and Mr. Robins and Merton had come into the vestry, Merton made the state- ment that the sermon had greatly offended him; and asked why he had chosen such an offensive subject for his pulpit. Mr. Robins thereupon acknowledged his own doubt about the truth of the statements he had made, by admitting he could not .say in his heart he believed them. However, he had made them, he said, from the force of custom and habit, and because they were in general believed by church peo- ple. He was sorry, he said, that he had offended Merton, and wished he had preached on some less debatable subject. On questioning him, Merton discovered that he knew scarcely anything of modern thought, or of the more prominent mod- ern authors. So radically lacking was he in the informa- tion of the present day, that he confessed he was ashamed, and said: "I wish Dr. Merton, that I could be near you, to make myself better acquainted with the results of modern scholarship; for even the little education I had, I have never improved, being not naturally given to study. I am con- scious that there is a great conflict in the world between what is called revealed religion and advanced thought; but I have had scarcely any scientific education, — just enough to trouble me with doubts and fears, not enough to point me out the path clearly one way or the other. So in my doubts I go on keeping on the safe side. If I didn't do this, nothing could result but trouble with my bishop, and ruin to my- self and family." Now this man who could thus admit his doubts, was but 198 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. a short time afterward made a bishop of the church. On this occasion he took good care to hide whatever doubts or fears his bosom possessed; yes, indeed, and the reason may be readily inferred: the power, and prestige, and salary of a bishop, were more than weighty enough to balance any lit- t'.e conscientious scruples of belief he had hidden in his bosom. In the parish of Woodville, where Merton was rector, there died an old negress. Having been baptized by a neigh- boring clergyman, the poor woman, at her death, requested Merton to permit this minister to make a few remarks at her funeral. The minister was very aged, being somewhat more than four-score years old; and the people of the parish gen- erally considered it a kind of amusement to hear him preach, so incoherently and irrelevantly did he speak. But Merton determiuined that the wishes of the poor colored woman should be respected; and therefore invited the Rev. Mr. Gordon to speak at the funeral, at the same time informing him that he would see to the liquidation of whatever ex- penses might be incurred by his coming. The expense of coming, however, would be very light, as his parish was very near to Merton' s, and free entertainment would be given him. Mr. Gordon delivered his remarks in the room beside the coffin, in the presence of a great many negroes. Being a very poor preacher, it was natural that but few whites would wish to hear him. After the preliminary ser- vices, they departed for the cemetery. On their way to the burial-ground Mr. Gordon was merry and jocose, and even given to levity. On arrival at the cemetery, he asked if Mer- ton would permit him to bury the dead. Merton replied: "No ; sir; among my own people I always bury the dead. While they are living, I do my best for them; when they are dead, I perform the last offices." The rites were finished, and they had moved back a DISHONORABLE CONDUCT I 99 short distance from the grave, when Mr. Gordon was handed a folded bill. Merton saw a wave of pleasure pass over Mr. Gordon's countenance as he took the money, and placed it in his pocket. They proceeded towards the gate, where the carriage awaited them; but before they reached it, Mr. Gordon was forced to put his hands into his pocket, and draw forth the note, that he might know its worth. As he drew it forth, and saw it was a ten-dollar bill, he grunted out, "Ha! ha! bless the Lord! very good, very good!" and without further comment, put the bill back into his pocket. Now, every one should know that the money belonged to Merton, as well because he was the rector of the parish, as because he had performed most of the labor. It was Mr. Gordon's duty to give the money to Merton, and Merton's to see that Mr. Gordon was paid for such assistance as he had rendered. As Mr. Gordon was an old man, and almost eaten up with the love of money, Merton had fully made up his mind to present him with the bill, had Mr. Gordon handed it over to him; but as he did not, from that time Merton lost all respect for him. As this minister was with- out a sense of what was becoming, so was he selfish to the very heart. All the way to the cemetery , he talked of every- thing except of death or the grave; and all the way to the rectory, of everything except of handing Merton the money, or any portion of it. Merton never spoke of this dishonor- able act ; but he could never again invite so base a man into his parish. It was the like of this action that made Merton frequent- ly resolve, sometime afterwards, that when he died, he would be buried without priestly rites. There are, however, some good and true men in the ministry. Such are a comfort to the dying, and render desirable services at the burial of the dead. Nevertheless, the hypocrisy that Merton had wit- nessed at so many funerals, made the thought very painful 200 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUI,. to him, that such might be acted over the burial of his own remains. At another time the bishop of the diocese visited Mer- ton's parish, to administer the rite of confirmation. By chance their conversation turned on the question of denomi- national ministerial authority. Said the bishop: "It can not be doubted that you are the only authorized minister in this city. It is possible that you may consider the different denominational ministers here as your lieuten- ants, or assistants, or as laymen; but you can not think of them as authorized ministers of Christ, and remain loyal to the church. Even the Roman Catholic priest is here without any right or authority; since their very first coming into this country was an intrusion, and an offence to the church of Christ. The Episcopal Church was the first Catholic Church in this country ; and therefore she is the only one that to-day is here by divine right. You must not surrender your birthright for a mess of pottage." And yet this very bishop, on the next day, in his ser- mon before the congregation, among which there were many of the ministers of the city, lauded the achievements of the various denominations; and called their ministers, "dear brethren, ' ' and the chosen vessels of Christ to bear his gos- pel to the ends of the world. And all this was done for the purpose of winning the hearts of the congregation, and get- ting from them a large offertory. Merton was greatly of- fended at such dishonorable conduct; at the man who behind the backs of those ministers, could deny their orders, or their ministerial authority, and yet before their faces, for the sake of base gain, call them his brethren, and chosen ministers of Christ. The Rev. Mr. Ruckles, who had invited Merton to call on him, was the minister of one of the wealthiest congre- gations in the metropolis. During their conversation he said: DISHONORABLE CONDUCT. 201 "Your faith, Mr. Merton, is my faith; but I dare not speak just as I believe. Should I do so, it would only increase the existing trouble of my people, who are already suf- ficiently burdened with their own religious doubts and fears. ' ' On another occasion, Merton was invited to dine with the Rev. Mr. Frink, who had a very conspicuous position in the same city to which we have just made reference. While at dinner Mrs. Frink took an active part in the conversation; and Merton was not a little surprised at the skeptical nature of her views. " Merton," said the Rev. Mr. Frink, "I want you to know that my wife is a first-class infidel." " Who could be other," she replied, " after becoming acquainted with the history of the church, and the real nature of things. Is it not all for money, anyhow?" During Merton' s visit Mr. Frink clearly stated his dis- belief in the deity of Christ, in a fixed state after death, in the inspiration of the Scriptures, and in the resurrection of the dead; although he was supposed to be an orthodox preacher, and received his salar3^ as such. Alas, that such deception could be found in the hearts of ministers! Truly, as Goethe says: Nach Golde dracngt, Am Golde haengt Dock A lies. — {Fa us I, 2802). We will not multiply the instances of dishonorable con- duct that Merton witnessed in his brethren; we have only given such as we thought would suffice to show another phase in the development of the new heart and mind which, in due time, were created in the being of Henry Merton, — a heart and mind consonant with reason, however much at variance with dogma. CHAPTER XXI. the; dogma of creation. For in six days-the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea and all that in them is. (Ex. xx. u). JVi.il autem nee mains nee melius mundo, necesse est ergo cum de- orum consilio ct providentia administrari. But since nothing is greater nor better than the world, it fol- lows that it is governed by the counsel and providence of God. (Cicero: De Nat. Deo. u. j/.) XT OTWITHSTANDING the painful life of Merton, owing to the mental tempests through which his soul was passing, his relations with his people and the citizens of the town were most pleasant. By all he was regarded as a man of purity of life, and of the highest educational at- tainments. It was because of his recognized scholarship that he was asked to prepare and deliver the following lec- ture based on Exodus xx. 1 1 : "For in six days the Eord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is." The literal sense of these words can not be misunder- stood ; nor would there seem any more reason for question- ing the meaning of this sentence than of that in which it is asserted that a carpenter built a house in three weeks. But within the last few years, comparatively speaking, it has be- come the custom, with the more scholarly theologians and ministers, to insist, under the pressure of scientific facts, that the word 'days,' in this sentence, does not mean days in re- ality, but periods of indefinite duration. Now, should a common architect, after having made the assertion, that a certain piece of work had been done in a certain number of days, declare, after his assertion had been found to be false, that he meant any certain period of time that might have been found requisite for the completion of the work, and not THE DOGMA OF CREATION. 203 days in reality, honest men would regard him as a humbug rather than as a competent architect. But if an architect should be refused such an easy escape from the results of his own gross ignorance, surely God could not, on any rea- sonable ground, ask humanity to credit Him with meaning any time required to suit the occasion, after having dis- tinctly stated, that the required time was six days. In- deed, whatever leniency one might be supposed to show an architect, who after all his supposed skill, is but fallible man, and therefore subject by nature to mistake in thought and expression, there could be no ground whatever for allow- ing God any such excuse, who can not plead imperfection in thought, nor fallibility in judgment; and who must know better than to use, in his statements, any words that would necessarily lead men to make false conclusions. To the fair- minded man, it seems like begging the question, to assume that God means any indefinite periods of time, when He plainly says six days; and such an assumption does appear, on every ground of reason, to be most unwarrantable. This daring spirit that reads into certain words of the Bible a meaning totally different from their literal import, is of very modern birth; and in a person who confessedly ad- mits the divine origin of such words, it is a spirit most un- worthy, irreverent, andcondemnable. It is most dishonorable to charge God with the use of words that He did not intend using, that convey a false meaning, or that are necessarily subject to false construction, or to ambiguity. God can not be deceived in the understanding of his own works, nor de- sire to deceive his own creatures in investigating them; nor can He ever fail to choose the right word needed to convey the information He intends to impart. We therefore insist on the grounds of the majesty, greatness, and goodness of God, that if the world was not created in six days, the words at the head of our lecture can not have come from God, can 204 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUI,. not have had a divine origin; and since no passage can be found in the whole Bible whose origin has been more uni- versally acknowledged to be divine, it follows that the disproof of the literal truth of these words must cast great discredit on the divine origin of the Bible as a whole. We notice that the words of the Bible are, 'heaven and earth.' Commenting on the meaning of these words, Bishop Kidder says, 'they are used to express what -is otherwise called the world or universe;' and Bishop Pear- son tells us that the Hebrews used them to denote 'the grand extremities within which all things are contained.' In simple English, therefore, the biblical statement is that God created the universe in six days. The time that has elapsed since the work of creation was completed, or since God entered upon his Sabbath, was, until very lately, believed by theologians to be quite definitely known. In the generally received version of the Bible, Archbishop Ussher's chronology is used. This gives us 4004 years B- C. for the time since the work of creation was completed. Hales considers the event oc- curred 541 1 years B. C. ; Jackson, 5426 years B. C; Pet- avius, 3983 years B. C. ; and Bunsen gives the time 20000 years B. C, as about the date of Adam's creation. This last date is declared by Reginald Stuart Poole to be one 'not only independent of, but repugnant to the Bible.' Mr. Poole gives us. as the date of Adam's creation, some time B C. between 5361 and 5421. In the discussion of these words of Scripture, we shall in general confine ourselves to established or universally recognized geological and astronomical facts. Nothing can be more certain than this, that all scien- tists regard the universe (we do not mean the matter of which the universe is composed) as having had a begin- ning, as having developed under law and order, and as THE DOGMA OF CREATION. 205 being subject to decay and death. Between science and miraculous occurrences there is an unending strife: the ad- mission of miracle is the exclusion of science. Science, therefore, has no place for miracle in its consideration; and the man who teaches miracle, or uses it, or depends on it, in the explanation of any phenomenon does by that very act itself exclude himself from the company of scientists, and conclusively show that he has not had a scientific edu- cation worthy of the name. Whatever object of scientific thought one may proceed to investigate to-day, there he will find that evolution, under some form or other, is uni- versally received as the great law by which such object has been developed from the starting-point of its existence. When we speak of the earth, we know with absolute certainty that it is a planet related to the other planets of the solar system as brother to brother; and that the solar system itself is a stellar system similarly related to the other stellar systems that form our universe — the universe which the Bible says God created in six days. Now, al- though no competent scientist would be so rash as to set a limit before which none of the systems of this universe could have existed; any and all competent scientists are ready to stake all their reputation by asserting, without the least hesitation, that these stellar systems had their origin under ordinary development, and in the abyssmal depths of past time. Says Newcomb, one of the foremost living astrono- mers: 'The widest induction of modern science agrees with the speculations of thinking minds in past ages, in present- ing the creation of the material universe as a process rather than an act. This process began when the present material universe was a mass of fiery vapor, filling the stellar spaces; it is still going on in its inevitable course, and it will end when sun and stars are reduced to cold masses of dead matter. The nebular hypothesis is indicated by the gen- 206 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. eral tendency of the laws of nature. It has not been proved to be inconsistent with any fact; and it is almost a necessary consequence of the only theory by which we can account for the origin and conservation of the sun's heat.' We have said that the solar system is but one of a family of stellar systems. Now, as children can not be with- out parents, so these various stellar systems that look out upon us from the awful depths of unfathomable space, could not be without once having had a parent body from which they originated. But to speak of the time that has elapsed since that parent body existed, would be but to use numbers so great as to be beyond all our powers of comprehension, and therefore a waste of time. We will therefore not speak of any time limit before which the parent body or bodies of this our universe must have existed; but will confine our- selves to the attempt at arriving at something like a definite age for its offspring, — for instance our own sun, a body which the Bible says God created on the fourth day This central body of our system is a most wonderful orb. Helmholtz tells us that our forefathers were right in regarding the sun as the giver of all life, as the ultimate source of almost all that has happened on the earth. Says Tyndall: 'He rears the whole vegetable world and through it the animal; the lilies of the field are his workmanship; the verdure of the meadows, and the cattle upon a thousand hills. He forms the muscles, he urges the blood, he builds the brain. His fleetness is the lion's foot; he springs in the panther, he soars in the eagle, he glides in the snake. He builds the forest and hews it down, the power which raised the tree and wields the axe being one and the same. The sun digs the ore from our mine, he rolls the iron, he rivets the plates, he boils the water, he draws the train. He not not only grows the cotton, but he spins the fibres, and THE DOGMA OF CREATION. 207 weaves the web. There is not a hammer raised, a wheel turned, or a shuttle thrown, that is not raised and turned and thrown by the sun. ' And our own popular scientific teacher, Edward L. Youmans, says. 'In the fall of the avalanche, the roar of the cataract, and the flow of the river; in the crash of the thunder, the glare of the lightning, and the sweep of the tornado; in the blaze of conflagration and the shock of battle; in the beauty of flowers, of the rainbow, and the ever-shifting clouds; in days and seasons; in the silent growth of plants, and the elastic spring of animals; in the sail-impelled or steam-driven ship, and the flying train; in the heavy respiration of the laboring engine, and the rapid click of the telegraph; — in all the myriad manifes- tations of earthly power, we behold the transmuted strength of the all-energizing sun.' It is not at all doubted by astronomers that each and all of the countless members of our universe have had their origin from one common fiery mist or nebulous ball. This is called the nebular hypothesis. In its modern form the hypothesis is generally credited toHerschel; but since his days it has been variously modified by different astrono- mers, although its main principle has not in any respect been altered. According to astronomer Norton the great disruption of the nebulous mass by which the primary systems of the heavens were generated, may have occurred in any one of four possible modes: By a simultaneous disruption of the whole of the nebulous mass; By a simultaneous disruption of the nebulous body along a limited number of meridians; By an irregular disruption; By a disruption beginning at the equator, and ex- tending gradually towards the poles. 208 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. Mr. Norton regards the last form of disruption as a deviation from the normal type, but at the same time as that by which the stellar systems were most likely origi- nated. The irresolvable nebulae he regards as vast nebu- lous masses that became detached from the polar regions, and from which 'clusters have been derived that are now at an earlier stage of development, and at a greater distance than the telescopic stars and clusters.' Annular nebulae he thinks may have resulted from the polar matter being most- ly drawn to surrounding points of condensation, or not having yet condensed into true stars, or into stars com- paratively minute. Planetary nebulae he refers to this same kind of development. " If we assume,' says Mr. Norton, 'all systems of stars to have been derived by separation from rotating nebulous bodies of vast extent according to one or the other of a certain small number of types of evolution, the forms and internal conditions that would be inevitably passed through, in the progress of ages, would be the counterpart of the various forms and apparent structural conditions of the clusters and nebulae actually observed. ' In speaking of the origin of the systems of the heav- ens, Young says that any one who considers the way in which other perfect works of Nature usually come to their perfection, must conclude that it is far more likely the sys- tems grew than that they were built This eminent author thinks it not probable that the original nebulous mass had nearly as high temperature as that of the sun at present. He regards it likely that the original nebula was in the form of dust rather than fire-mist, that it consisted of fine particles of solid or liquid matter, each particle enveloped in a mantle of permanent gas. Still he does not deny that Laplace may have been right in ascribing a very high temperature to the original nebula; he only insists that a THE DOGMA OF CREATION. 209 high temperature was not necessary for the evolution of such as our incandescent sun. Laplace is supposed to have held that the bodies far- thest from the centre must have originated first; but L,ock- yer, Norton, and many others think it probable that many bodies may have originated contemporaneously, more than one having been liberated at the same time, or several bodies having been formed from different zones of the same ring. In speaking of the subject of the origin of the celes- tial systems, Newcomb and Holden say: 'The nebular hypothesis is a philosophical conclusion founded on the widest study of nature, and pointed to by many otherwise disconnected facts. We learn from it that the universe is not self-sustaining, but is a kind of organism which, like all other organisms, must come to an end.' L,oomis regards the nebular hypothesis as probably true; Olmstead and Snell think it more in accordance with the Creator's plan that the systems grew than that they were created, and set in motion as we now see them. I might continue indefinitely this list of authorities; but it were a useless labor, as it is impossible to name a single competent authority who does not hold that the celestial systems are all, as we have said, the results of evolution, or who does not deny that any of them was ever brought into existence by any such creative act as is plainly taught in the first chapter of Genesis. Having shown that in the mind of the scientific world there is no doubt that all the stellar systems have had one common origin, and have acquired their present form and order under the operations of law working through vast ages of time, we may now seek some solid scientific grounds for estimating the age of our system. Our sun is one of the vast number of stars which, as 14 2IO FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. we have stated, were thrown off, or in some manner or other derived, from one common universal nebula. How long this nebula existed before such segregation com- menced, it were vain to imagine; nor are we able to state whether our sun is the oldest or youngest star; whether the stars farthest from the centre of our universe were first formed, and those nearest the centre, last; or whether they came into existence by the formation of nuclei throughout the nebulous mass, as happens in the churning of butter. What we can definitely state is that the parent of the stars, the nebulous mass, must have been in existence ages be- fore its offspring, the stars themselves; and that if we can show the stars, the mere offspring, existed untold ages be- fore the time at which the Bible says the world was created, we shall thereby know the account in Genesis must be still more incorrect, since it asserts that God created the uni- verse in six days; for the word universe, necessarily in- cludes the parent of the stars, the nebulous mass. In arriving at an adequate conception of the age of the solar system, we shall base our investigations upon the conclusions already deduced, — namely, that all the various members of the solar system once existed in the form of a nebulous mass which had been previously thrown off, or in some manner or other derived, from that universal fiery mist or nebulous matter out of which the various stars or primary bodies were in like manner all formed. Most people know that heat is a mode of motion. If you rub your hands together, you experience warmth; and by repeatedly hammering a small piece of iron, you can make it too hot to hold. As heat is only a mode of motion, heat and motion are interchangeable. A person uses a ton of coal in getting up steam, to raise to a certain height a certain amount of mineral. After it has been thus raised, should it be allowed freely to fall to the place from which THE DOGMA OP CREATION. 211 it had been taken, the heat generated by the fall, allowing for the loss by friction, would exactly equal the heat ex- pended in raising it. Such men as Hirn, Joule, Maxwell, Tyndall, and others have conclusively shown that the amount of work done by an engine, is exactly equal to the quantity of heat lost. This fact is a well known principle of physics. That the heat of the sun does not arise, as many sup- pose, from its combustion, is a statement easily capable of demonstration. Tf the sun were solid carbon, and if a constant and adequate supply of oxygen were present, it has been shown that, at the present rate of radiation, the heat arising from the combustion of the mass would not last more than 5000 years.' (Newcomb and Holden.) Few persons have anything like an adequate concep- tion of the amount of heat radiated by the sun into space. By experiment it has been found that 83.4 foot-pounds of heat per second fall upon every square foot of the earth's surface exposed to the perpendicular rays of the sun ; and since the surfaces of spheres are to one another as the squares of their radii, we know the amount of heat radiat- ed from the sun's surface is to that received by the earth, as the square of the sun's distance from us is to the square of his radius, or as 46000 to 1. This gives us 3,869,000 foot-pounds of heat radiated from the sun's surface every second, — an amount equal to 7000 horse-power. Sir John Herschel's actinometer and Pouillet's pyrheliometer are said by Deschanel to have given the best results in determining the amount of heat radiated by the sun. Pouillet finds the heat sent yearly by the sun to the earth to be sufficient to melt a layer of ice 30 metres thick all over the earth. Sir John Herschel's estimate is about the same. Since the sun's radiation is about 2100 million times 212 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. the amount received by the earth, it is said by Deschanel that his total radiation is sufficient to melt a thickness of two-fifths of a mile of ice per hour over his whole surface. Such an enormous supply of heat could not be main- tained, for any length of time, by combustion. 'It would require the combustion of about 1 500 lbs. of coal per hour, on every square foot of the sun's surface. The opinion that the sun's heat is maintained by combustion, can not be entertained for a single moment. A pound of coal falling into the sun from an infinite distance, would produce by its concussion more than 6000 times the amount of heat that would be generated by its combustion.' (Croll: Clim- ate and Time). Should a pound of matter fall into the sun from an infinite distance, its energy would be 65,000,- 000,000 foot-pounds, — sufficient to raise 1000 tons five and half miles high. Helmholtz says that if the sun were of uniform density throughout, 'the heat developed by a contraction amount- ing to only one ten-thousandth of the solar diameter, would be as much as is emitted by the sun in 2 1000 years. ' (Deschanel). It is largely through the investigations made by this most eminent scientist, that an explanation of the sun's heat, in every way satisfactory to the scientific world, has been found. This explanation is known as the cantraction theory; and it is adopted by the leading philoso- phers of all nations. It is, moreover, the simplest and most reasonable, since its main principle necessarily results from the law of gravitation. Having shown that the celestial bodies were never created, in the usual acceptation of the term, but grew in- to their present form and condition under natural laws, operating through vast ages; that the sun's first existence was not, as the Bible says, subsequent to that of the earth, but vast ages before it; that the sun's radiation is not by THE DOGMA OF CREATION. 213 combustion, nor from the mere giving out of his own natural heat, but from the contraction of his own sub- stance under the laws of gravity, — we may next ask, how long has this contraction been in progress. First, we should say that a body such as the centre of our system was and perhaps is, might go on for vast ages radiating its heat, and contracting, not only without a fall, but actually with a rise, in temperature. The fact on which this assertion is based, is said to have been discover- ed by Mr. L,ane, of Washington. It would seem strange, but it is admittedly no less true, that a gaseous body los- ing heat by radiation, and contracting under gravity, must, instead of falling in temperature, actually grow hotter and hotter, until it ceases to be a perfect gas. The energy acquired by the contraction, is more than that lost by radiation. In the case of a solid or liquid this is not so. Contraction may supply heat for radiation; but it can not raise the temperature of the contracting solid or liquid body, nor keep it from gradually falling. Little by little the temperature of such a body must be reduced to that of surrounding space. The condition of our sun to-day is known to be one that is neither a true gas, nor a liquid, nor a solid. In parts it is a true gas, as is proved by the spectroscope; in other parts, as in the photospheric clouds, there is much liquid; while in yet other parts, it is possibly solid. The present relative proportions of true gases and liquids in our sun are such as to keep his temperature about stationary. ( Young. ) These proportions can not, of course, last in- definitely long. The increase of the liquid part must, at a comparatively early date, destroy the present stability; then the temperature will surely begin to fall. This fall may have already begun. According to the theory of contraction now about 214 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. universally accepted, a shortening of the sun's radius of only about 125 feet a year, will suffice for the whole an- nual radiation. Such a small amount of contraction could not be noticed by us with any known instruments. In- deed, it would take 9000 times the amount of such annual contraction to enable us to verify by observations the fact of the sun's shrinkage. Should the annual contraction of the sun's radius be greater than 125 feet, his mean tem- perature must be rising; but if there be such rise, it can continue, comparatively speaking, for only a very short time. The present temperature of the sun is very high; but nothing like definite information can be had on this point. Secchi thinks the the temperature of the solar surface is about 6,100,000 degrees C; Rosetti gives what is known as the effective temperature of the sun, at from 10,000 to i8,ooodegrees C. ; and Siemens sets it down at 3000 degrees C. Where such wide divergencies of opinions exist, we must admit that our information concerning the sun's tem- perature is very limited. We may say, however, that if the sun were as near to the earth as the moon is, our earth would melt and vaporize. The most powerful burning- lenses conclusively show this. For a body placed at the focus of one of these, is virtually within 240,000 miles of the sun's surface; and it is known that at such a focus all substances known to us are melted and vaporized. In answering the question, how long has the sun been in existence, Newcomb says: 'If we take the doctrine of the sun's contraction as furnishing the complete explanation of the solar heat during the whole period of the sun's ex- istence, we can readily compute the total amount of heat which can be generated by his contraction from any as- signed volume. This amount has a limit, however great we may suppose the sun to have been in the begin- THE DOGMA OF CREATION. 215 ning: a body falling from an infinite distance would gen- erate only a limited quantity of heat, just as it would ac- quire a limited velocity. It is thus found that if the sun had, in the beginning, filled all space,. the amount of heat generated by his contraction to his present volume would have been sufficient to last 18,000,000 years at his present rate of radiation. The heat evolved by contraction from an infinite size, or by the falling of all the parts of the sun from an infinite distance, shows the extreme limit of the heat the sun could acquire from internal change, and this quantity, as just stated, would last only 18,000,000 years. Speaking on this same subject, Young tells us: 'No conclusion of geometry is more certain than this, — that the contraction of the sun to its present size, from a diameter even many times greater than Neptune's orbit, would have furnished about 18,000,000 times as much heat as the sun now supplies, in a year, and therefore that the sun can not have been emitting heat at the present rate for more than 18,000,000 years, if its heat has really been generated in this manner; but it is not unlikely that the sun may have received energy from other sources than its own contrac- tion. Altogether it would seem that we must consider the 18,000,000 years to be the least possible value of a dura- tion which may have been many times more extended. If the nebular hypothesis and the theory of the solar con- traction be true, the sun must be as old as that, — how much older no one can tell.' In our estimation of the sun's age, based on the con- traction theory, no allowance has been made for any origi- nal heat ; but the computed age is simply the time required for the dissipation of the heat that would be acquired by the solar contraction, or the contraction of the nebulous mass, on the supposition that the nebulous matter itself pos- sessed no original heat. «fl6 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. Now apart from the demands of geology, it is in every way reasonable to hold that the original nebulous matter had a very high temperature. Where did this nebulous matter come from? It could not have been always existent ; for on such supposition, contraction could not have had a beginning. The very supposition of contraction is founded on the fact of physical change in the nebula. The tendency to contract is a necessary result of gravitation. If the nebu- la had always been, contraction would have always been; but this latter is a supposition contrary to the theory itself. The nebula, therefore, must have had a beginning; and it is certain enough that this beginning was in a cause or causes exactly opposite to those which are now hastening a general equilibrium of temperature throughout the solar system. The original nebula, in other words, must have resulted from the collision of two large globes, or an indefi- nite number of small ones. This would give the nebula out of which the solar system has been formed, an original temperature, and force us to add to the past life of the sun very many millions of years. That the original nebula had a very high temperature, all astronomers regard as very possible; and geologists as- sert that it is absolutely certain, since nature itself testifies to the truth of the fact in the strata of the ear lb. An original nebula with a very high temperature is easily accounted for on the supposition of collision. If two globes each one-half of the sun's dimensions should collide, each moving with a velocity of 563 miles per second, they would generate in a single moment no less than 70,000,000 times as much heat as is now annually radiated by the sun. (Croll: Climate and Time). This would give us in all for the past life of the sun about 90,000,000 years. Prof. Helmholtz holds that the earth, a child of the sun, must have been 350,000,006 years in passing from a THE DOGMA OF CREATION. 217 temperature of 2,000 degrees C.to 200 degrees C. ; and Dana says that at the end of the archaean age, the temperature of the earth was not probably over 38 degrees C. ; and gives us 50,000,000 years as about the time since the commence- ment of the Silurian age, Of the time that had elapsed be- fore the Silurian age, this author says it was 'very long.' ~L,e Conte says the Azoic age was longer than all the re- maining history of the earth, and calls it 'an infinite abyss of past time.' (Geology, 378). Winchell tells us that the time required for the changes we find in the earth, must have been vast; and the noted physicist, Sir William Thompson, on grounds other than geologicol, estimates the age of the earth's crust at 100,000,000 years; and the earth, as before stated, is a mere offspring of the sun. The early earth was not unlike our present sun. It was at first nebulous, and after many millions of years be- came a globe of molten rock. While it was in a gaseous state, the result of contraction, as we have said, would be a rise in temperature ; but as soon as it became largely liquid and solid, the loss by radiation would more than equal the heat evolved by contraction. Its temperature would there- fore begin to fall; and this decrease will never cease. Farther and farther from the surface will the earth's mol- ten state recede, until the earth shall have lost all her in- ternal fires. This decrease of the earth's natural heat would be much more rapid, were it not for the thick crust super- imposed on the molten matter, which protects the earth as the polar bear's coat preserves the animal's heat. Humboldt and Elie de Beaumont give 2 1 miles as the thickness of the earth's crust; Bischot, 24; Osmand Fisher, 25 to 30; and Newcomb says: 'The whole earth is red-hot at a distance of from ten to fifteen miles below its surface. We have every reason to believe that the increase of 100 degrees a mile continues many miles into the interior of the earth. 2l8 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. The earth is really a sphere of molten matter surrounded by a comparatively thin solid crust on which we live. ' In- deed, it seems the ancients must have been fully acquainted with the internal heat of the earth. Tertullian, one of the great fathers of the church, says: 'By ourselves the lower regions of hell are believed to be a vast cavern in the in- terior of the earth. ' This good father determined, you see, to locate the orthodox hell in a place hot enough. Sir William Thompson estimates the yearly loss of heat by the earth, as sufficient to melt 777 cubic miles of ice. It is quite generally held that the earth was hundreds of millions of years old before it was cold enough for the abode of life, such as we now know. We have already given Helmholtz' estimate, 350,000,000 years, as the time the earth required to pass from a temperature of 2,000 to 200 degrees C. ; and Dana holds that the earth was many millions of years after this, before it became the abode of life. It is universally held that the Azoic age of the earth was of greater duration than all her subsequent ages; yet we know little or nothing of the life of the Azoic age. Some of the lowest orders of life were undoubtedly repre- sented at the close of this age; but the true life-history of our globe is generally held to have commenced at the be- ginning of the Paleozoic times, which age Dana estimates as having lasted 36,000,000 years. Then came the Meso- zoic and Cenozoic ages, for the duration of which Dana gives us 9,000,000 and 3,000,000 years respectively. We have coral reefs more than 2,000 feet thick, for the building of which geologists insist not less than 384, 000 years were required. Since the days of Sir Charles L,yell, to whom the sci- ence owes its thanks for its establishment upon its present sound and philosophical basis, geology has been making rapid strides. Its voice to-day is attentively listened to in THE DOGMA OF CREATION. 219 the councils of the wise, and its conclusions are received with the approval of the scientific world. Geologists may demand more millions of years than physicists are willing to give them, and physicists may dif- fer among themselves many millions of years; but where the birth of the universe is acknowledged by all to have been an event which must have occurred at such a remote period in the eternity of the past, a few millions of years are of little importance in the consideration of our question. Abundant remains of man are found in the Quater- nary age; and it is held by very many that he first appeared in the Tertiary. 'Fossil remains of men have hitherto been found in late Tertiary deposits.' (Huxley). 'That man,' says Winchell, 'existed in remote preglacial times, is not improbable;' and computing it on astronomical grounds, Croll and Wallace say that the glacial epoch began 240, 000 years ago, and lasted 160,000 years. This conclusion is accepted by Geike and many other English geologists. The astronomical consideration of the age is based on the precession of the equinoxes and secular changes in the ec- centricity of the earth's orbit. It would seem, therefore, that 240,000 years is the least time we can consider man as having been an inhabi- tant of the earth; and we are sure that the leading ethnol- ogists and anthropologists of the world, would not much demur to this statement. Says Huxley, than whom none is better qualified to speak, : 'There can be no doubt that the existing fauna and flora is but the last term of a long series of equally numerous contemporary species, which have succeeded one another, by the slow and gradual sub- stitution of species for species, in the vast interval of time which has elapsed between the deposition of the earliest fossiliferous strata and the present day.' We have given sufficient proof that the Biblical word,; 220 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. at the head of our lecture, do not convey the truth; that God neither created the universe in six days, nor any mem- ber thereof; nor even the earth, one of the least of the mem- bers of the solar system, nor any of its fauna or flora; that creation has been a gradual process from the least to the most differentiated, — from the nebulous ball down to the fiery earth, from the lowest living organism to the highest human genius. We should learn from the evident inaccuracy of these biblical words, to regard the so-called revelation of God in the past, as subordinate to that ever-present and increasing manifestation of the Divine Being, witnessed in the myriad investigations carried forward by the inquiring mind of man, who in himself, though but an erring child, is the highest revelation of the Infinite Father. CHAPTER XXII. THOUGHTS OF AN HONEST PRIEST. He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, Or Jove for his power to thunder. His heart's his mouth: What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent. (Shakspere) \ FTKR having delivered, one Sunday morning, a ser. mon on the Person of Christ, Merton was visited by his senior warden, who soon began the following conversation: "Mr. Merton, I notice that in your sermons you fre- quently use such expressions as, If Christ be God; If eternal punishment be true; If Christ was immaculately born; If we live after death; etc. I supposed these matters were not open to question ; therefore I can not see that you have any right to the use of 'ifs'. Have you really any doubt about these things? Do you really doubt the dogmas of the church?' ' "Though I can not say, Mr.Howard, that I really disbe- lieve any of the great dogmas of the church, I nevertheless candidly admit that I have my doubts and fears. If you ask me, for instance, 'Do you believe in the diyinity of Jesus Christ?' I would answer, 'yes' ; but should you ask, 'Do you believe without a doubt that Jesus Christ is God?T could not truthfully answer affirmatively. One may say, as thousands do, that he believes in the divinity of Jesus Christ, and yet not believe that he is the infinite Deity, the life, fullness, and po- tency of the whole universe. So also may one say, T believe,' his heart at the same time being torn with a tempest of doubt and fear. If ministers were asked, 'Do you believe in the di- vinity of Jesus Christ?', for the most part, and for many 222 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. reasons, they would answer, 'yes ; ' but if they were asked the far more searching question, ' Is there no doubt at all in your heart that Jesus Christ is God Almighty ? ' I know from my relations with them for the last fifteen years that they could not truthfully answer the question affirmatively. I have been acquainted with many ministers, I have talked seriously with many ; but never with one who, when closely questioned in confidence, would not admit the existence of the uncertainty which dwells, to a greater or less extent, according to the degree of education, in the breast, as I believe, of all I have ever known. This could not be other- wise ; for who of all the learned critics, philosophers, scien- tists and historians, having examined the evidence contained in Scripture and elsewhere, upon which are founded the dogmas of orthodoxy, is satisfied, beyond doubt, of the truth of these dogmas ? I answer, not one. This also could not be otherwise ; for in the words of a contemporary writer : ' There is hardly one fact known to be the undoubted result of modern science, which does not shatter to pieces the whole fabric of orthodoxy.' Among those who have made a thorough investigation of this subject, the opinion of Mill may in general be said to be held in common : ' In the Christianity of the Gospels, at least in its ordinary interpre- tation, there are moral difficulties and perversions of so fla- grant a character as almost to outweigh all the beauty and benignity and moral greatness which so eminently distin- guish the sayings and character of Christ. . . . The di- vine message, assuming it to be such, has been authenticated by credentials so insufficient that they fail to convince a large proportion of the strongest and most cultivated minds; and the tendency to disbelieve them appears to grow with the growth of scientific knowledge and critical discrimina- tion.' (Utility of Religion.) " Ministers are men, and some of them are educated. Of THOUGHTS OF AN HONEST PRIEST. 223 the educated portion all have their doubts and fears in com- mon with the rest of mankind. But why, it may be asked, do they then not acknowledge these doubts more plainly than they do? Such a question may readily be answered: Why does not the lawyer expose to judge and jury the weakness of his case? Why does not the physician ac- knowledge his ignorance of the disease which, like a hawk, eats the life of his patient away? He who can answer these questions, and every sensible person can, is equally prepar- ed, if he only will, to give a satisfactory reason why the minister exposes not the weakness of his creed; and he who can not give such a satisfactory reason, would likely re- ceive no help from me, however fully I might explain it; for being credulous and superstitious, it is very improbable that he would be capable of appreciating such an expla- nation, or that his opinion would be changed by argument. "For my part, I have never sought to hide the doubts and fears which more and more have found a lodging-place in my heart. I can not deceive you; nor will I contend for what I believe is contrary to fact or reason. This I can not do. " 'Fingunt simul creduntque,' is an old proverb, and means that when one makes an hypothesis in explanation of any phenomena, he will at once contend for its truth. An ig- norant preacher declaring vehemently the thoughts of his heart, is wont to say he speaks by the inspiration of the Holy Ghost. If a man contends wilfully for the truth of error, he paralyzes his mind, and renders himself incapable of searching for further truth; even if he only unintentional- ly does this, he is liable to be confirmed in the belief of his error. These results are seen with fearful effects in religion. We find Augustine, for instance, a rational-minded Chris- tian, before his contention with Pelagius; but after this he becomes as much of an extremist on the one side, as Pe- lagius was on the other. Indeed I can not think that the 224 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUI,. teachings of the latter are near as baneful as those of the former. Augustine lays down premises, and through his blinding passion to conquer, strives, according to the pro- verb, to make himself and others believe that his conclu- sions are true. Adam, he tells us, was created with a nature 'posse non peccare et non mori,' that is, with such a na- ture that he might have lived free from sin and free from death; but having transgressed, Adam, he says, became ' non posse non peccare et non mori,' that is,' became such that he could not live without sin nor without death. Now, since man is declared in Scripture incapable of self-redemp- tion, Augustine holds that it is evident that as many as are saved, are saved by grace; and since all are not saved, al- though they would be, that it is not because of their lack of desire, but because of the eternal and unconditional decree of God. Thus we find Augustine denying the freedom of the mind, offering us an absurd gospel, and presenting us with a god the most unjust and base. All this he does in contention for what he has assumed. This is the predesti- nation theory which - has its advocates in the Christian church of to-day, and which, if true, would induce me to be very charitable of the devil's sin, and. conclude God not only the author and builder of hell, but also of all the sin in the universe. Such false doctrine kills the soul of the teacher, and certainly unfits it for noble living or noble dy- ing, by philosophically destroying the highest incentives to virtue, and reducing man to a mere tool. " Belief saves nobody; the truth only saves. If we would be saved, we must know the truth, for truth only has the power of giving life. But if a man would preach the truth and the truth only, he must dig carefully and deep, as if for hidden treasures. To do this there is need of a mind well furnished not only with theological knowledge, but also with that of science in general; for every science is subsid- THOUGHTS OP AN HONEST PRIEST. 225 iary to theological knowledge. The minister, therefore, should be a man of the broadest culture, tenacious of the truth, and fearful of nothing but error. He should be sat- isfied with the substance only, and not with the shadow; with the reality, and not with the appearance. "It must be admitted that such teaching as you receive from me, must make men think for themselves, and, there- fore, cast off to a great extent the shackles of dogmas and superstition. It enforces the fact that it is not belief nor a name which saves the soul, but truth and truth only; and since man can be saved by truth only, such teaching leads him to inquire carefully into the character of his religious belief. The natural result of such teaching is to make men rationalistic, and therefore ready to discover any error in their religious belief. Such men soon find that there is much of Christian dogma which can not stand the in- vestigation of a critical mind. "I am glad indeed, in a certain sense, that you are so well satisfied; but I am equally glad that the declaration of the church, being such an interested party, is not suf- ficient to prevent my mind from thinking, or force on me the belief that there is no longer any room for further inquiry. Concerning the deity of Christ, it is not sufficient that the apostles asserted it, or that even Christ himself de- clared it. Have I not the right to demand proof as to the ability of the apostles, to determine the grave questions at issue ? Have I not the right to demand the production of the evidence upon which they base their judgment ? May I not demand that the evidence produced shall be such as would force from me to-day the acknowledgment of the deity of a person who, living amongst us, might be said to perform similar miracles?" The gentleman answered, "I suppose such demands would be just and fair." 2_'6 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. " Not only, my friend, would they be, as you say, just and fair ; but it would be my duty to make such demands. If we examine, in a critical spirit, the statements made in the Gospels, the halo of glory which is now superstitiously shed about them, soon disappears. In the first place, there are the authors of the synoptic gospels, Matthew, Mark and Luke. To the author or words of the fourth gospel, it is useless to refer, since both the author and his words are subjects of too much uncertainty and speculation. What shall we say of the three who remain to testify to the life and words of Christ ? I answer, we can say nothing; for of their persons and lives we have no really satisfactory and authentic information. From tradition and the little we find in the New Testament itself concerning them, it is generallv inferred that they were ignorant men, and, therefore, we say, totally unfit to discriminate between the miraculous and the natural. When I ask for proof of it, I can not find that the apostles had sufficient ability to determine the questions at issue. Indeed, in the early ages it was a much disputed question, whether the apostles could even write ; and to-day the question is far from settled. In the second place, if I ask for the production of the evidence upon which the apostles base their opinions, what do we find ? Why, I am presented with a few documents disagreeing in many ma- terial points, and whose authors are either wholly unknown, or subjects of contradictory judgments. Let us examine more closely. Even if we admit that the author of our present Gospel of St. Matthew, was the same person as the Matthew who is said to have been the apostle of Christ, still it does not help us much ; for Papias distinctly says that this Matthew ' put together the oracles of the Lord in the Hebrew language, and each one interpreted it as best he could.' Of this original work of St. Matthew we know ab- solutely nothing ; and it does not increase our confidence in THOUGHTS OF AN HONEST PRIEST. 227 the copy we possess, to be told by Papias that each one translated the original as best he could. The greatest writers of the world acknowledge that our Matthew is not the orig- inal Matthew. If, then, I demand the genuine work of St. Matthew, I am offered instead, according to some, only a translation whose accuracy I must question, because of the suspicion cast, by the words of Papias, upon the author's ability ; and, according to others, only a compilation made from other writings, the chief of which v/as probably the s original Gospel of St. Mark. Stating it more briefly : of the writer of the original St. Matthew we have no definite and satisfactory information ; we do not possess the original, nor know of any one that ever did ; the Gospel of St. Matthew which we possess, is not the original St. Matthew, but at best only a translation made by some unknown person whose ability to perform such labor must be questioned, since he did it only ' as best he could ' ; or, lastly and probably, it may be the compilation of an unknown author, based chiefly upon the original Gospel of St. Mark. I ask any candid and unprejudiced mind, is there no room for doubt about the statements made in such a gospel. Such a question admits of but one answer. When we come to the Gospel of St. Mark, we find no better satisfaction. Of the person and life of St. Mark we know nothing, or worse than nothing, except the little we gather from the New Testament ; on the latter we can place, in our judgment, but little reliance, as well be- cause it is a witness testifying in its own behalf, as of the unsatisfactory character of what is there said. If I ask, therefore, for proof of the ability of St. Mark to determine the questions at issue, it is impossible for me to get it. It is generally conceded by the most impartial and prominent critics, that our Gospel of St. Mark is not the original Gospel of St. Mark ; but, first, an emended copy made either by an unknown person or the author of the original ; or, secondly, 228 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUI<. that it is the result of not less than two, and probably many, revisions, the first of which may, or may not, have been made by the original author, and the second, or subsequent ones, by some person or persons unknown, who, at the time of their revision, made many additions to the original work. And, now, if we ask did St. Mark witness the occurrences he describes, we have to answer, he did not ; for we are told by Papias, who of all was most likely to know, that St. Mark never saw the Lord, nor heard him speak ; but that, becom- ing a disciple and interpreter of St. Peter, he wrote his gospel from what he remembered of St. Peter's teaching : 'Outs yap yzouae too xuptou ours Tzaprjxokouffrjds aurtu. Manxos pvj ipprjvsurrjS Ihrpou yevo/xevos 6aa e,uvrj/xoveus re nai 'Padd./j.avdvs oi Aids kclI Evpu>Trr)S 7rat5es, xai epyvj e^apapTaveiv, deuTepov d'eis tous deious avOpomouS? That as divinely begotten beings, some of them were specially instructed by God himself : " Aeyei yap tov Mivcov auyyiyvedai evaru) ersi tuj Ah ev Xoyois xai (poirav Ttaideudyrro/ievov cos uizo a — We owe in sacrifice a cock to Asclepias {Plato: Phaedo, I xvi, //.) CHAPTER XXIX. LAW AND ECCLESIASTICISM. Law serves morality by securing the free development of its power residing in every human will. {Savigny.) cos apa vdpxivs avdpcbirois avayKaiov Tldeadai, nai ^v Kara vdfxovs — It is necessary that laws should be established for men, and to live according to law. {Plato: Legfs ix. 8J4.) DARTL,Y arising from Merton's doubts as to the truth of many of the dogmas of the church, and partly to fill the requirements of the university in his course of study for the degree of LTv-D., he resolved to leave the active work of the ministry for three years, and devote himself to the study of the law, ancient and modern. The university was situated in a beautiful village of- fering a quiet retreat to such as might be mentally dis- turbed. This in addition to the fact that his new duties would necessarily. call off his thoughts from those subjects that had been so greatly troubling Merton, made his so- journ, at the law-school, a physical no less than an intel- lectual blessing. In the study of the law, Merton found great delight. In it he discovered something real, not imaginary; some- thing tangible, not a ghost. Having only to do with the world that is, it contains no imaginary factors. Says Aristotle: " cpavepov 8ri tuiv otiovv irdrxxV ^ 7r o.vtu>v. " Kal 0eots &pa £x@pbs ecrTai 6 dSc/cos, 6 5t dinaios (p?\os. "Oi)/c fipa iravTwv ye airiov t6 dyadbv, d\\d tQv p.ev ev exbvTUJV alrjLOv, tcDc 5e kclklov dvanLov. "Therefore, to suffer the greatest evils and injustice, must be considered a less evil than to do them. "It is not right to return to man injustice for injustice, nor to do him evil for evil, no matter what one may suffer from their hands. "And to God the unjust man is hateful, while the just man is dear to Him. "Nor is the Good (God) the cause of all things, but of the good only,andnotof the evil." (Epis. vn; Crito x. 14, 16; Civitasi. 352; 11. 379.) Again, in his Civitas(i. 351), he tells us that no state can continue to exist without justice; and in his Apology (xxi,xxix) ,he says that evil is much more to be feared than death, as death can not possibly bring the good man any harm, since it must bring him either an eternal sleep, or introduce him to a better life. As Merton became more fully acquainted with the works of Plato and Aristotle, he felt more and more offended at the shameful injustice done these great and noble teachers by Christian ministers of all ages. If the very essence of jus- tice consists in the giving to each his own, surely the aver- age Christian minister has none too much of this virtue. Sunday after Sunday is Christ quoted as the author of say- 296 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. ings and teachings which had been said and taught ages be- fore he came into the world. What a discovery is this to the sincere and thoughtful soul who hitherto has imagined that the world was in gross darkness prior to the coming of Christ! Such sayings and teachings quoted in proof of Christ's divinity, lose all their value, for this purpose, when it becomes known that the same, or similar, were taught by teachers who had long preceded him. The more Merton studied the ancient philosophers, the less did he find it necessary to refer the moral principles of the New Testa- ment to Christ as their real author; and the same may be said of all, or nearly all, its more distinctively religious prin- ciples. As he listened, he heard older voices than that of John the Baptist, crying "Repent ye, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand;" and older voices than that of Jesus, saying: "Fear not little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom." The just man can not take from a more ancient author what is really his, and attribute it to Christ; nor could Christ, as a good and just man, be pleased at such robbery.. But however much Christ would be offended at the act, the Christian priest still goes on, refusing to grant unto Caesar, in his poverty, what is evidently his, although it be but to add a denarius to the store of a reputedly infinite being. While I have here referred exclusively to ancient philo- sophers, it must not be understood thereby that I lightly regard the great benefits resulting from the spread of con- temporary science; on the contrary, I see in very many of these philosophers great saviors of humanity; and in modern scientific discoveries, such blessings as the ancients might have longed to possess, and longed in vain. But I have re- ferred exclusively to ancient thinkers, lest the reader should suppose that those to whom reference has been made, might have been affected by Christian teachings or sentiments. ONE GOD ONE HUMANITY. 297 No candid person can suppose that Aristotle who died three hundred and twenty-two years before Christ was born, could have been influenced by Christian teaching , and his writings are a gospel in themselves. Still further removed from all Christian influences was Plato, Aristotle's teacher, who left the world three-hundred and forty-seven years be- fore Christ came into it ; and many a gospel might be taken from the writings of this noble man, and not a little of the Christian gospels is contained therein. Contemporary philosophers have many advantages over their ancient brethren ; nevertheless, in beauty of diction, sublimity of thought, reverence of mind, and moral worth, the ancients have never been, and are not likely to be, surpassed. What they did, they did well. We are told that the great Lord Burleigh always carried, in his breast-pocket, Aristotle's Rhetoric and Cicero's de Officiis, and that he thought these two works sufficient "to make both a scholar and an honest man." In some respects, however, the ancient philosophers had advantages over their modern brethren. In their days the scholar was more highly respected, and much less em- barrassed with the cares of a life whose demands seem to increase, as the years roll on. Nevertheless, he who would find a prophet, or a preacher of righteousness, or " the voice of one crying in the wilderness," can readily do so in the great and noble thinkers of the present age. It is true, the work of some has been in general antagonistic to prevailing thought, and, therefore, so-called destructive ; but it should not be forgotten, that it may be much wiser to tear down a structure, and build anew on its foundation, or on a firmer one, than to repair it. Moreover, the blows these so-called destructionists have struck, have been aimed at images false to the reality, at ideas the product of over-wrought imagi- nation, at doctrines and dogmas not founded in truth. To such destructionists the good and true man can only wish 298 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. long life and success, in their effort to break down the images "set up in every high hill, and under every green tree." But, besides such writers, the past century has wit- nessed many a constructive worker giving to the world gos- pels purified from the filth of superstition, and cleansed from the foul impurities of priestly influence. L,et honor be given these voices of God, for the gospel they preach, and the light they shed on our path; but it should not be supposed that the distructionist is less honorable than the constructionist; for the former goes before, and clears the way, to make straight the path of the latter. They are both great powers of God; they are both his servants sent forth with a message to a world boasting of its light, but groping in gross darkness; and they each alike help to bring about the day when all men shall see the glory of God, in the ele- vation of the race; when all nations shall be recognized as God's chosen people, and not the Jews and Christians only; when the road to heaven shall be as broad as the pulsating heart of humanity, beating after its God; when the possi- bility of progress shall be declared as continuing as long as God and creation exist. That day is fast approaching; and when it comes, much of the joys of heaven will be experi- enced on earth, much of the lamentations of hell be hushed forever. The more Merton contemplated the work of the great and good of old, the more was he offended at a doc- trine that regards them as outside the pale of God' select; and the more he regarded the purity of their lives, and their love for truth, the less he felt inclined to preach a doctrine which, while it opens wide the Father's arms to the Christian prodigal, declares even the noblest heathen to be in danger of eternal damnation. In those thoughtful days, the sense of the oneness of humanity was so strong in Merton, that he could not doubt that the love wherewith the Father loved him, was equally extended to all his brother-men. Even the thought ONE GOD ONE HUMANITY. 299 that God might elect the one, and pass over the other, would give him pain. He saw on earth one great object of God's care, humanity; he saw in the spirit-world one ob- ject of human prayer and praise, God. Whether they call Him Jahve or Jove, Deus or Zeus, El or Allah, Woden or Manito, Brahm or the Spirit, Gott or the Good; whether they worship Him in costly temples, with priests decked with gold and precious stones, or amidst stately trees, use- iug the blue, arched roof of heaven as their temple's top; whether in deep humility, with ashes upon their head, or with self-inflicted lacerations, — to Merton it was evident that in all cases the intent of the soul is the same — the worship of Him who, under however many names or forms He may be known or conceived, is recognized by all as the Life, Strength, Lord, Saviour, and Father of men. Knowing these things Merton was loath to resume a work, from the doing of which it would be necessarily inferred, that either silently or openly he admitted that outside the Christian church, there is no known hope of salvation. But through the persuasive voice of his wife, and the hope that he might be allowed to preach a wider faith, Merton resumed the work of a Christian priest, after having passed some years in the study of law and phil- osophy, and eight months regaining his health, on the western prairies. Said he: "Perhaps the Lord is calling me. I will spread my sails, and yield to the wind that drives me; perchance I may carry a precious cargo to feed the hungry, and cloth the naked; and finally, when my voyage is over, find some haven of rest. Thou, Lord, seest me. I will go trusting Thou has sent me, and ready to do thy will." Nevertheless, a thousand doubts and fears filled his breast. He could not help remembering a little book he had read in his boyhood, the "Heavenly Foot- man." But it seemed that, instead of having two spirits, an evil and a good one, he had a thousand, all striving to make him do their bidding. But as in mechanics a body 300 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUI*. can move but in one direction, though acted upon by a thousand forces, so with Merton; the resultant of all his spiritual forces sent him back to the pulpit. But anxious as he was to do the will of him who sends every man into the world, Merton yet felt a pain at the thought of resum- ing pulpit work. Now he was conscious of a freedom for which he had often longed. The broadness of the prairie, the clearness of the sky, the brightness of the sun and stars, the vividness of the lightning, the pealing of the thunder, the roaring of the wind, were all calculated to inspire independence of spirit and freedom of action. As he look- ed over the vast and rolling plains, he would think of the broadness of God's creation, and the narrowness of his creed, which man had created; and often would determine to rid himself of the shackles which bound him, and escape from the slave-master's coils. The thought that he was free from bishops' dictation, gave him a peculiar satis- faction. Should death there overtake him, it would find him ready; and the earth that would receive him, was dearer than consecrated ground. No funeral dirge would have been said over his body; no hollow, priestly prayers would have been given to the wind. As he would have died in peace, so without sham or pretense would he have been given to the earth to await his lot. Having resumed his work, Merton, one morning after preaching a mission- ary sermon, was thus addressed by his wife: "Harry, why are you so much troubled?" "I am troubled," he answered "at the thought of the disagreement of my mind with the teachings of the church at whose altar I serve. Much found within her walls is very dear to me; and she is the most tolerant of orthodox churches. But when I think of the dogmas to which, as a minister, it is presumed I subscribe, and know that in my soul I can not believe them, I am tossed by the wild conflicts within, as a boat in a tempest. One of the most painful things I ever had to do, was to preach that ONE GOD. ONE HUMANITY. 30I sermon on missions, and take the offertory for the general missionary society. By such act it is, and ought to be, understood that I believe in missions. The foundation of all missionary work is, that out of Christ all nations are in a lost and hopeless state; or, at least, that without faith in Christ as their Redeemer and God, there is no known salva- tion for any people. You know I do not believe that the so-called heathen nations are lost, or that they are without a known salvation, any more than we are. I have often told you I have no doubt that the honest and faithful Brahmin, Buddhist, or Mohammedan, is a child of God, and heir to a better life after death, in the same sense, and with the same right, as I am. If there is any use in missionary labor, it consists only in the possibility of giving the uncivilized na- tions of the world a higher form of life. It is not needed to bring them into a state of salvation ; for in that state every child of man is, and always has been. If I believed otherwise, I should have to say, ' Poor God ! What can be done for him ! The happiness of himself and his children is wholly dependent on the good-will and activity of the missionary society.' All nations have, as they believe, their redeemers, their divine mediators, and holy revelations; and this is all we can say for ourselves. We believe certain things which distinguish us as Christians; but of those same things, we can prove absolutely nothing. In such belief I can put no real confidence. On this one thing I wholly rely: the universal fatherhood of God. God dwells in all things, in all men; and He is reflected by each man as man's mind is polished with intelligence, and his heart with purity. All men receive Him in some measure; of this we are sufficiently certain from our knowledge of the religious nature of universal man. The fact that man is a religious being, is proof enough that God is equally mindful of all. But apart from this, I am sure that a just and good God 302 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. must be equally mindful of all his children. The various nations of the world may dwell in different rooms, but they all dwell in their Father's house, and feel his divine presence; or, we might say, the various children of the one Father may attend different classes in the same school, but all have the same wise Superintendent, and all pass from a lower to a higher grade, having at the same time, no matter what grade they may chance be in, the guidance and smile of the one great Teacher who careth alike for all. I do not believe that the nations without Christ are lost; nor do I believe in wasting money and many lives in forcing on a na- tion a form of religion not adapted to their peculiar nat- ure; for our religion is no more agreeable to their nature, than our climate is to their vegetation." "It would be hard for me to differ with you who have been my guide and teacher. With your own hands did you baptize me, and under your instructions and ministry was I confirmed. Most of the information I possess, I have derived from you. But concerning the matters of which you speak, I have thought the same nearly all my life, as you think now. I never could see, why a just and merciful God could let his light shine on one mere corner, and let the rest of the earth remain in outer darkness, only to curse it for not having his light. Nor have I ever understood, why a good and just God could rightfully blame any man for not receiving a new religion, when he is satisfied of the truth of his own; nor why He could rightfully blame a man who, finding no reasons according to his own honest con- victions, for the acceptation of Christ as God, refuses to believe in his divinity, but lives a pure and noble life. For my own part, I believe that every one who satisfies his own conscience in such matters, or, in other words, lives as he thinks he should, will go to heaven after death. God gives all his children such teachers as they need, and such light ONE GOD ONE HUMANITY. 303 as their eyes are best prepared to receive. To us he has given Christ, and the light of his blessed gospel. As a fol- lower of Christ, I hope I may be worthy of my many privi- leges; but nothing can make me believe that God has any favorites. I believe the heathens call God ' Father ; ' and I doubt not that they have the same right to do so, as I have. Harry, if I were you, I would not trouble myself so much about it. Every one knows how good and noble you are. A pure life is worth ever so much theology. Let that com- fort you ; and let theology alone." " My darling wife, what you ask is an impossibility. It is as impossible for me to live without thinking, as with- out eating; and this ceaseless thought it is, which makes my life a martyrdom. Every honest minister must feel that he is necessarily bound by the theology of the church to which he belongs, as a prisoner is bound by his chains. The lat- ter, as he tries hard to break away from his shackles, soon finds the iron cutting through to his flesh; and the former, as he tries to preach a reasonable doctrine, soon finds his church dogmas cutting through to his soul. If the theology of the church were as much like God as I believe you are, Mabel, then I could gladly receive it; but your principles do not agree with the dogmas of the church; nor is your theology that of the church to which you belong. The truth is, that should the dogmas of the church get into your heart, you would drive them out as you would a rattle-snake from your bed-room." " I know my information is nothing when compared to yours, Harry. I suppose this is the reason that I don't trouble myself about these matters, as you do. I am glad I have the comfort of my religion; I am glad I love the blessed Jesus. But I am also glad I believe the people of heathen countries, who do the best they know how, are children of God, and go to heaven after death." 304 FOOTPRINTS OP A SOUL. " I do not believe in eternal damnation, Sunshine, nor in the infallibility of the Scriptures; I do not believe in the vicarious atonement of Christ; I do not believe in a literal resurrection of the dead; I do not believe that any man, civilized or uncivilized, who lives, as he believes, an hon- orable and just life, will be damned; I do not believe that nations without the knowledge of Christ, are in a lost con- dition; I doubt that a direct revelation has ever been made from God to man; I doubt the bible which is exponential of the Christian religion, is, in any real sense, any more divine than the many other bibles which are exponential of the other great religions of the world; I doubt that the method by which man was first brought into being, was, in nature, different from that by which other animals were first brought into being, — that is, I doubt that man was specially created; I doubt very much that Jesus Christ was ever born, in a real sense, of a virgin, — that is I am inclined to believe he had a father and mother, as I myself had; I doubt that a miracle has ever been performed; I doubt that the future state is fixed and unalterable; I doubt a localized heaven; I doubt a localized hell; I doubt the existence of a personal devil. I could add more, but you have surely heard enough." " Well, Harry, I do not know; but I suspect other schol- arly ministers, if the truth were known, have about the same belief in regard to these things as yourself; but you must do what you think best. Mabel knows you will do what is right; and I am perfectly satisfied that God will never for- sake you nor blame you for being honest to your own con- victions of duty and truth." " As to scholarly ministers, Mabel, they are few and far between. Our ministers are first-class at smoking cigars, and drinking wine; but as to any real thought, I assure you, they rarely descend below the surface of things. That God ONE GOD ONE HUMANITY. 305 will forsake me, my darling, I can not for a moment think. I love Him, hunger and thirst for Him; and I pray with my whole soul, that I may never stray from the path wherein He would have me walk." " Harry, is there any church whose principles you fully believe; any denomination whose teachings you wholly and unreservedly accept ?" " I do not know that there is, Mabel. My belief might be called simple theism, which is, and always has been, the religious faith of the most learned of every age. Of this statement I am certain enough. There are, it is true, many pretty pictures in our orthodox churches, which are very pleasing to the eyes of the many who worship there; but I assure you, it never has been proved that those pictures, however pleasing, ever had a real existence outside of the diseased or superstitious brain which originated them. I con- sider any and every religious principle not sanctioned by sim- ple theism, to say the least, doubtful. Orthodoxy is a charm- ing name; but when examined by the critical mind, it appears equivalent to the will of the party in power, whose interest it always is to enforce that will by every possible sanction. When I think of orthodoxy, I imagine a .cow standing be- fore me. The tail goes where the cow wills it; and ortho- doxy has depended on the emperor's wish. I will here give you an example of this: " ' We, the three emperors, will that all our subjects follow the religion taught by St. Peter to the Romans, pro- fessed by those saintly prelates, Damascus, pontiff of Rome, and Peter, bishop of Alexandria, that we believe the one divinity of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, of majesty co- equal, in the Holy Trinity. We will that all those who embrace this creed, be called catholic Christians; we brand all the senseless followers of other religions by the infamous name of heretics, and forbid their conventicles to assume -p6 FOOTPRINTS OP A SOUL. O the name of churches; we reserve their punishment to the vengeance of heaven, and to such measures as divine in- spiration shall dictate to us.' "This, Mabel, is the edict of Gratian, Valentinian II, and Theodosius, emperors of Rome, A. D. 380. Commenting on this edict, Dean Milman says, in his history of Christian- ity, ' Thus the religion of the whole Roman world was enacted by two feeble boys and a rude Spanish soldier.' It is certain, Mabel, that from the legislatures of the different countries, not a little of the prestige of the church has been derived. I remember myself when no one ever thought of calling the sectarian meeting-houses in England by the name of ' churches.' That name was exclusively applied to the Church of England, whose ministers were better known for their indolence, and fox-hunting tendencies, than for any spiritual power they may have possessed. Bishops and priests, more especially the former, have been more noted as warriors, and for laxity in life, than for their power of healing sin-sick souls. Says Lecky : ' In looking back, with our present experience", we are driven to the melancholy conclusion that, instead of diminishing the number of wars, ecclesiastical influence has actually and very seriously in- creased it.' He who really knows the history of orthodoxy, can be but little moved by its pretensions. I do not say, Mabel, that I have no faith at all in some of the dogmas peculiarly characteristic of orthodoxy; but I must say I have doubt concerning them. And it is because of these doubts that I wish to take a rest to ease my mind of the many disturbing forces which now so greatly agitate it." "Your Mabel is greatly troubled for your sake, Harry. I do wish I could help you to clearly determine what you should do. We may at least both pray that God may lead you to decide for the best." " Though faith in most of my childhood beliefs grows ONF GOD ONE HUMANITY. 307 weaker every day, Mabel, my faith in prayer, weakens not. To God as to a father I am constantly carrying my doubts and fears, and as constantly expecting from Him a solution. Between my desire to be true to the church, and my desire to be true to my own convictions, there is an irrepressible strife which makes even existence itself almost unbearable. In solving the questions which produce this strife, I wish to act slowly, but deliberately. I feel shut up as it were in a hollow sphere, as I was in my dream ; and as then, so now, not able to liberate myself, I confidently expect that God will make an exit. Of one thing I am sure, — I wish the will of God done in me ; for it is most reasonable to believe that a man had better a thousand times die, than live in opposi- tion to his true and only real life ; and God, in my opinion, is the true life of the human soul, apart from which it can but wither and die, as the tree must die, if up-rooted from its parent soil." CHAPTER XXXI. A PRIEST AND A PHYSICIAN ON ECCLESIASTICISM. Vulgus ex veritate pauca^ ex opiniofie Jtiutta cestimat — The uneducated judges little from truth, much from sentiment- {Cicero.) V/IERTON had now given the highest proofs of his scholarship, having passed examinations, in leading universities, for no less than five degrees, the last exam- ination having been for the degree of Doctor of L,aws. He had found no difficulty in completing the studies leading to all of these degrees. Study was to him his great delight. He loved it for the sake of itself, but more especially as the means whereby he might either substantiate or disprove the faith of his childhood. He wanted the truth; for he knew well, as the blessed Christ says, that this only could make him free. After all his years of study and excessive labor, Merton found that his faith in exclusively Christian dogmas was wholly undermined, that his belief was un- tenable; but at the same time that his faith in God had taken deeper root. God alone was his hiding-place; and in that refuge of the tempest-tossed soul, Merton found security and rest. It was while thinking on how great the change was that had passed over his belief, since the time he had knelt with his father in prayer, that Merton was visited by his friend, the learned Quaker physician. "Well, my friend, ' ' he began, ' 'I see I find you musing. I have thought much about you, since hearing your sermon of last Sunday: I really felt deeply for you, knowing the conflict raging within. You once told me that the pulpit was the best field for an able man; and I denied that 308 A PRIEST AND A PHYSICIAN. 309 it is. On the contrary, it is fitting such a mind as you speak of, only as a place to go to sleep in. When I see an able man in the pulpit, I pity him ; when I hear him preach, I partly feel the lash that is held over him ; and when I hear him repeat the creed, I know his words assert one thing, while in his heart he believes another. But he is led from fear of the lash and its consequences, like a lamb to the slaughter. On the other hand, when I see one of your average idiots dosing a congregation with, 'thus saith the Lord,' and ' thus saith the church, ' I feel as a part of nat- ure so greatly offended at his almost blasphemous nonsense, that I curse myself for a fool for coming where priests are known to rave. If the average preacher could be only made to know with what indifference or contempt the man sitting in the seat before him, receives his thunderings, I feel con- fident that he would be ashamed thereafter to manufacture his lightnings again." . " I can not but sympathize with you, doctor, in your righteous indignation. I well remember hearing such ser- mons myself, and how they filled my very soul with contempt for those who preached them. It was certain that the preacher I listened to, was either educated or not educated. If educated, I could not believe that his head admitted the truth of his lips, and I therefore had a contempt for him be- cause of his insincerity, and lack of manhood ; if uneducated, I could not think that he rightfully or worthily filled the position he held, and I therefore had a contempt for him be- cause of his conceit and audacious pretension. It was a cruel thing for me in those days to hear such sermons ; for it really seemed a foretaste of the hell the preacher spoke of. I was certain that the character of the God I worshipped, did not agree with that of the being the preacher declared ; that, therefore, in a true sense, one of us had no God at all, was in fact an atheist ; for since God is one, He can not be 310 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. apprehended by two persons who have contradictory notions concerning Him. It is true I went to church generally, and sat good-manneredly in ray seat ; but ten thousand needles and pins seemed to prick me, frequently turning the place of worship into one of martyrdom for me." " We have all had such feelings, Mr. Merton. In these days, however, I rarely go to church, and therefore rarely expose myself to the martyrdom you speak of. I have noticed that the more ignorant the preacher, the more cer- tain he is concerning those matters which nobody knows anything about ; also the more groundless the dogma asserted, the more vehement is the preacher in insisting on its truth. When the foremost of the age turn their backs on a dogma as contradicted by the known facts of science, and the deliverance of the reason, it is then that the preacher rages, and utters his maledictions against the un- godly speculations of science. The higher reason lifts her head beyond the mists of superstition into the clear light of heaven, discovering the filth of priestly rags, the higher the preacher rises in his holy indignation, and, striking the desk in his rage, with one blow knocks the Humboldts and Darwins and Huxleys into hades. If I had any faith in the miracles of the New Testament, and wished to see a person possessed of the devil, as I go to a hospital to look for a sick man, so should I go to a church pulpit to look for a man possessed. What a logomachy the pulpit is ! One insists on immersion, the other laughs at it ; one insists on baptismal regeneration, the other scouts the idea; the Epis- copalian denies the validity of the orders of the other great Protestant bodies, claiming that no man can rightfully and authoritatively perform the functions of a minister, unless he has received ordination from the hands of a bishop, and they wink at his claims. Finally the Roman Catholic denies the ministerial authority of any and all, unless received A PRIEST AND A PHYSICIAN. 311 fiom a bishop in communion with the Pope of Rome; and even asserts the hopeless state of all who are not within the pale of the holy Church of Rome. At this a howl is heard from the Episcopalian officers, seeing their lines threatened with confusion, their generalship being held up to the ridicule of their enemies. What a great body of truth the church possesses! There never was such a many-headed, dubious monster speaking great things in a language which nobody understands. I am glad that the day of the church is passing, and that of reason coming. Ring out the old; ring in the new." "The day of the church that is, my dear doctor", said Merton, "is most surely passing away; but like all other days of darkness, it must be followed by a time of preparation, before a brighter dawn. Note the long night that intervened between the passing away of the ancient cults and the establishment of a more agreeable faith. Faith- ful ones thought that their gods had forsaken them; that even Jove would nod his mighty head no more forever; that the night which had fallen upon them, would be one of eternal darkness. At last day broke, bringing with its rose- ate beams a religion more advanced, more adapted to the then existing civilization. A religion fitted for the present, becomes a superstition to those that shall follow. But super- stitions die hard. They have their organizations, their drill- ed officers, their priests and ministers, their functionaries, all most vitally interested; these do not yield in a day. You must not expect a too early ringing out of the things that are, and a ringing in of the things that are to be." "I wait patiently, ' ' replied the doctor; ' 'but in the mean time I do my part to hasten in that glorious day, by acting an honest part, in joining the ranks of those who turn to- ward the light, and leaving the hosts of those who, for fear or favor, shroud themselves in darkness." "Some may really believe, doctor, what they preach; 312 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. but such men are peculiarly constituted, being never given to examine seriously the principles of their faith. As in- fants eat, so they believe. The mother puts her infant to her breast, and it imbibes, whether the fluid be fit for food or not; thus with such men, they believe, without question, whatever they have received, and even seem happy and sat- isfied. But that a faith makes a man happy, is no sufficient reason for holding or adopting it. A man might have all confidence in his ship, although, unknown to him, she may be fast filling with water. As a rule, the faithful followers of any religion are contented and happy. I can assure you that the degree of happiness a religion may give a man, has nothing to do with its truth or falsity. But although I have known some ministers whose sincerity and truthfulness I have had no reason to doubt, I have known many more who were insincere and untruthful. Such ministers have spoken to me of their doubts concerning Christ's divinity, who yet in their sermons never breathe such doubts; have denied to me the Trinity, and afterwards in the pulpit affirmed their faith in it; have denied to me the personality of the devil, and afterwards before their people asserted their belief in it; denied eternal punishment, and in their public utterances affirmed it; denied the inspiration of the Scriptures, and on the very next Sunday affirmed their faith in it. All this I have known them to do; and the only excuse they give, is that a man should not give utterance in the pulpit to his pri- vate opinions. I tell you, doctor, I am sick of the insincer- ity and hypocrisy that I have witnessed among ministers. Some good and noble men there are ; but, as I have said, I do not believe that' the average minister is, in the true sense,, a good and noble man." " I have seen enough, indeed, to assure me that ministers,, like others, are in general moved by a short-sighted selfish- A PRIEST AND A PHYSICIAN. 313 ness which teaches, that the welfare of the bod)'' is more than that of the soul." "And what good, indeed, do you suppose I could get by- going to church? Suppose the minister be a good man; what then? He believes that his faith is true; I am satis- fied that it is seriously to be questioned. What help or con- solation could I receive from such a man ? I answer, I could receive none whatever, but rather irritation. The justice and greatness of his god, is the injustice and little- ness of mine. The blood of Calvary has a sweet- smelling savor to him; to me it represents an intentional and wilful homicide. The immaculate conception, the deity of Christ, vicarious atonement, the doctrine of election, eternal bless- edness, eternal damnation, the call of Abraham, the resurrec- tion of the body, the choice by God of the Jews and Chris- tians, apostolic succession, — these are some of the beliefs which give him comfort; but these same beliefs cause me pain and disgust — they are an offence to me. If you ask me to believe in the immaculate conception, I am offended: you might as well ask me to walk on my head. In the latter case I would answer, it is not the natural mode of locomo- tion ; in the former case I would answer, it is not a natural explanation. If you ask me to believe in the elect charac- ter of the Jews and Christians, I am disgusted and offended; you might as well ask me to believe that God is unjust and wicked. If you ask me to believe in vicarious atonement, eternal damnation, or the resurrection of the body, you ask what a reasonable man can not do: you might as well ask me to believe that there are more gods than one, or that the one God is self-contradictory. No, indeed, I am gone further than ever from such beliefs. I can not believe anything of God, which is contradicted by his visible works; I can not believe anything of the works of God, which is contradicted by every-day experience. Talking a few days ago with one 314 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. of our ablest judges the other day, he said, "The fact is, my friend, the dogmas of the Christian church are absurd. It is my belief that in a few years they will be universally rejected. They are an insult to the thinking mind. Had it not been for the strenuous efforts of the parties inter- ested, and the credulity of the ignorant, they would pass away in a generation. I believe, Merton, in one God who is the Father of all. This God has no elect. All religions come from him, as all warmth comes from the same sun. But as the sun's heat, although scattered equally in all directions, is not equally felt in all places, depending on our nearness to the sun, and the absence of intervening sub- stances; so God's revelation of himself, though given to all and everywhere alike, is not equally felt, nor in the same manner expressed, by all, this depending on the character of the man, and his degree of cultivation. But all religions come from God ; and all do good, in their time and place. The coarse and bloody religion is adapted to the coarse and bloody man. He who conceives of God as having hu- man characteristics, will have such a religion as his own mind might be the author of. But as all flowers will not grow in the same soil, so such low, gross, and bloody con- ceptions of the Deity can find no acceptation with me. We all see with our own eyes; we all think with our own minds; and the ability to think correctly depends, of course, on the character and amount of our education. I am per- fectly satisfied that neither the confidence a person has in his faith, nor the degree of happiness he derives from it, has anything to do with its truth or falsity. It is certain that base actions, and false ideas often give us most happi- ness; while noble actions, and correct ideas frequently bring us pain. I believe with you that the only test of a religion is its reasonableness. A reasonable religion may be false, I'll admit; but I am certain that an unreasonable one A PRIEST AND A PHYSICIAN. 315 can not be true. For it is evident that, if anything un- reasonable can come from God, He must remain unknow- able to us, since we have only our reason whereby to know Him. If some one says: 'Not so; we have the Scriptures whereby to know Him.' I might answer: 'You receive the Scriptures only because you believe they are reasonable.' Thus there is no way to deny the fact, that reason remains the only power whereby we can know God; or that, if God be unreasonable, He must remain unknown to us. But since the Christian and most of the non-Christian world be- lieve that God is known, they must admit his reasonable character. Therefore I say, as you said last Sunday in your sermon, that although all religions have their root in God, the unreasonable parts of them have their roots in foolish-minded humanity only, and that such parts are therefore false, and should be rejected by the thinking mind." "In my opinion, doctor," replied Merton, "your con- clusions are valid. But let me beg you to remember that although there is a lot of chaff in so-called religion, there is also not a little wheat. I am sorry to say that our conver- sation must now end, as I have some parish duties to per- form. ' ' Merton felt conscious that the words of the text of the sermon to which the doctor in his conversation had made reference, did not agree with his own belief, nor with the highest reason of the age. His views were daily broadening: he saw less and less of the miraculous; he was becoming more and more a child of nature. Yet, in the text referred to, he saw a beautiful truth conveyed, as it were, in a fairy tale. This truth he sought to appre- hend; and as he believed he apprehended it, he declared it to his people, not only to direct them in religious matters, but also to guide them into truth ; for without the latter, 3IO FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. the former becomes but baneful superstition. Truth may be possessed without religion; but religion can not be possessed without truth. In his study Merton was ever confronted with the growing contradictions between science and reli- gion ;in his pulpit, between those of reason and dogma. Min- isters and commentators he found bending the Old Testa- ment to suit the requirements of the New; and having suc- ceeded in this base work, bending the New to suit the exigencies of their respective creeds. Everywhere he cast his eyes, he beheld dogmas ready to break, and the eccle- siastics who were supported by them, patching them up. The inner-world, the reason, he saw at war with the outer- world, ecclesiastical dogma; and ecclesiastical dogmas, at war with one another. While the people of the parish were no better than others, no more honorable, dutiful, or charitable, he was still more troubled at knowing that the position he claimed, and the dogmas he asserted, could not be sustained with satisfactory credentials. The occur- rences he asserted in the creed w 7 ere stupendous; but the evidence upon which they were based, were puerile, absurd. He clearly saw that to ask a man to accept the creed on the usual interpretation, is no less unreasonable than to expect him to infer that a mountain has been in labor, to explain the existence of the progeny of a mouse. The more he looked for proof of the occurrences asserted in the creed, the further he found himself from the object of his search. Whatever he sought to solve by a supernatural explanation, he readily saw was much more reasonably solved by a natural one. In his mind he beheld Reason carrying a key with which she unlocked the doors that led by labyrinthian ways to the dark hiding-places of ecclesi- astical dogmas. He saw her enter, and shed on their monstrous forms the blazing light of her own radiant countenance effulgent with light divine. As she approach- A PRIEST AND A PHYSICIAN. 317 ed, they cried: "What have we to do with thee? Art thou come hither to torment us before the time?" and, crouch- ing in their lairs, sought to conceal themselves in still deeper darkness; but at her look they were filled with consternation, and at her touch were paralyzed. One by one, by the might of her own arm, did she drag them forth, and decapitate them, hurling their lifeless forms into the outer-darkness of superstition, where they first had received their life. There those many-headed giants lay, without hope of a resurrection. The priests of the world went in mourning; but Liberty and Truth clothed them- selves in gorgeous apparel, singing: "Alleluia! for the L,ord God Omnipotent reigneth." With all his uncertainty and trembling, Merton yet hesitated to renounce his faith. He felt unwilling to grieve his friends. He knew that false as many of the dogmas were, he was yet accomplishing some good in the work he was doing; and he desired to search more fully into the foundations of his faith, before giving it up, lest too sudden action might bring him repentance: Lasst uns audi diesmal dock nur die Mittehtrasse betreten ! Mile mit Weile! das zvar selbst Kaiser Augustus' 1 Devise. {Goethe; Her. and Dor. 81.) CHAPTER XXXII. ON THE RESURRECTION. He that goeth down to the grave shall come up no more. {yob vit. g) HpO him who faithfully studies the origin of Christianity, and the work and position of the early Christian church, it will be apparent that the beginnings of Christi- anity were laid in strife, and that strife was the common heritage of all those who in early days labored to spread the new doctrine. The words put by Matthew into the mouth of Christ: "I came not to send peace but a sword," were certainly verified in the development of the early church. Husbands and wives were estranged, parents and children separated, brotherly ties broken, and friends made enemies. Such results must have followed, and must always follow, the renunciation of one's own religion for the sake of some new and untried faith. Fierce and long was the strife the teachers of the new religion wag- ed, and strong was the opposition brought to bear against them, before Christianity can be said to have felt secure in its position. This time of felt security did not come be- fore near the close of the second century. The great gen- eral, strategist, organizer, and dialectician, in this early strife, was Saul of Tarsus, or Paul. It is to this earnest, shrewd, and laborious worker that the Christian church owes a debt it can never pay; for without him it* is doubt- ful if it could have held together, or even been established at all. As Prof. Pfleiderer of Berlin says, it was through Paul that Christianity became recognized as the universal, world religion; and this recognition was won only after a long and bitter strife with the Jewish body in the primitive church. 318 THE RESURRECTION. 319 The dogmas of the early church were, as the dogmas of the church always will be, matters of contention; and among those that received, and must receive, the strong- est opposition, is that of the resurrection ot the dead. The early opposition to this dogma is evident enough from what is recorded in St. Mark, the most trust worthy of all the gospels: "Then came unto him the Sadducees, which say there is no resurrection." The Sadducees were a Jewish sect, who held strictly and exclusively to the written Law. This written law, the Pentateuch, never mentions in any instance the doctrine of the resurrection of the dead. Not only does it not give a hope of a resurrec- tion, but one may search its pages in vain for a single word teaching the immortality of the soul. If the great law- giver himself believed in a resurrection, or even in the immortality of the soul, it is certain that he has left us no evidence of such belief; and in the answer which Christ is said to have given the Sadducees, nothing can be found clearly to establish belief in the resurrection. If Moses had taught this doctrine, surely Christ must be supposed to have known it, and knowing it, it can not be doubted that he would have quoted the strongest text possible. But the words which Christ is said to have spoken, can hardly be construed as giving any strong hopes of the resurrection, or as strengthening to any great extent our faith in that doctrine. What Christ says is at most only an inference which one might make, provided it be granted that the doctrine in question be true. The question itself was left by Christ where the Sadducees affirmed it had always been and was, namely, among the many suppositions which man labors to establish, but labors in vain. That the infant church was at strife about this dogma, is evident enough from Paul's words to the early Christi- ans: "How say some among you that there is no resur- 320 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. rection of the dead. ' ' That the best educated considered such doctrine without warrant, is certain from the manner in which Paul was received by them: "Then certain phil- osophers of the Epicureans and of the Stoics encountered him. And some said, what will this babbler say? other some, He seems to be a setter forth of strange gods: be- cause he preached unto them Jesus and the resurrection. And as he thus spake, Festus said with aloud voice, Paul, thou art beside thyself; much learning doth make thee mad. ' ' Disbelief in this dogma did not die through the efforts of Paul; for Clement, the first of the apostolic fathers, sup- posed to have been a disciple of Paul, found it necessary to strengthen the faith of his followers in the doctrine of the resurrection. The proofs, however, which this good father adduced for it, were not unlike those the church fathers adduced for other beliefs. To establish this doc- trine Clement tells us that: "Day and night declare to us a resurrection. Let us," he says, "behold the fruits of the earth. The sower goes forth, and casts the seed into the ground; and the seed being thus scattered, though dry and naked when it fell upon the earth, is gradually dissolved. Then out of its dissolution the mighty power of the provi- dence of the Lord raises it up again, and from one seed many arise and bring forth fruit. There is a certain bird which is called a phoenix. This is the only one of the kind and lives for a hundred years. When the time of its dis- solution draws near, it builds itself a nest of frankincense and myrrh, and other spices, into which it enters, and dies. But as the flesh decays a certain kind of worm is produced, which, being nourished by the juices of the dead bird, brings forth feathers. Then when it has acquired strength, it takes up that nest in which are the bones of its parent, and bearing these it passes from the land of Arabia into THE RESURRECTION. 32 1 Egypt, to the city called Heliopolis. And in open day, flying in the sight of all men, it places them on the altar of the sun, and having done this hastens back to its for- mer abode. Do we then deem it wonderful for the Maker of all things to raise up those again that have piously served Him, when even by a bird He shows us his power to fulfil his promise?" (Epistle 1. 24, 25, 26). Such is the proof that this great Father gives us for the resurrec- tion of the dead. It is hard to think that any man could be guilty of such folly; but not only, as we see, was Cle- ment guilty of it; but Tertullian also, and others of the Fathers, give us similar arguments to substantiate this nature-contradicting dogma. In the return of day and night, the man of common sense sees nothing else than a necessary result of the earth's diurnal rotation; and in the growth of vegetation from the seed, it is well known that there is no death, and therefore no resurrection. Nothing will grow from a dead seed. At the time of sowing, the embryotic plant is alive. It needs only a little to enable its encased life to burst its barriers, and become a thing of beauty and usefulness; and this little it finds on being buried in the soil. Its transformation from seed to plant, is as simple and real, as is the growth of the chicken from the egg. In each case there is no break in life's continu- ity, no cessation of life's activities. With regard to what Clement says of the phoenix, it would be foolishness to say anything. His credulity must have been amazingly great to adduce a myth in proof of such a stupendous miracle. One cannot fail, however, to recognize the fact that the testimony of such writers must be received with the great- est caution. A little after Clement, Polycarp speaks of the doctrine of the resurrection; but makes 110 attempt to adduce any proof by way of substantiating it. Another of the apos- 322 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. tolic. Fathers, Justin Martyr, who died near the end of the second century, found it necessary to write apologies for the doctrine of the resurrection of the dead. In these apol- ogies Justin admits that even the resurrection of Christ was denied by some Christians: "And there are some," he says, "who maintain that even Jesus himself appeared only as spiritual, and not in flesh, but presented merely the ap- pearance of flesh. ' ' After much useless argument, the only proof of the doctrine adduced by Justin, is the alleged resurrection of Christ, the actuality of which, as he admits but a moment before, was denied by many. Another great church Father, Irenseus, who died about the end of the second century, endeavors to show the reasonableness of faith in the resurrection of the dead, in these words: "For if God does not vivify what is mor- tal, and does not bring back the corruptible to incorrup- tion, He is not a God of power. Surely it is much more difficult and incredible from non-existent bones, and nerves, and veins, and the rest of man's organization, to make man an animated and rational creature, than to reintegrate again that which had been created and then afterwards decomposed into earth. Let them inform us, when they maintain the incapacity of the flesh to receive the life granted by God, whether they say these things as being living men and partakers of life.or acknowledge that having no part in life, they are at the present moment dead men." (Against Heresies in). In another place the same author speaks of the growth of the seed from the plant as showing the probability of the resurrection. Tatian, one of the early church writers, while not at- tempting to give any reasons for his belief, states his faith in these words: "For just as, not existing before I was born, I know not who I was, and only existed in the po- tentiality of fleshly matter, but being born after a former THE RESURRECTION. 323 state of nothingness, I have obtained through my birth a certainty of my existence; in the same way having been born, and through death existing no longer, I shall exist again. For God will restore the substance to its pristine condition." Theophilus, another apologist for the resurrection, and writing about the close of the second century, bases his argument on the growth of seeds and fruits, and on the recovery of the body after sickness. About the end of the second century, Athenagoras al- so wrote what is called by some a noble treatise on the res- urrection. In this work he tells us that the resurrection is made probable because of the changes which occur in man' s body during life; because judgment must have reference to the body as well as the soul; because without a resurrec- tion man would be less favorably situated than the beast ; because the resurrection of the body is necessary to man's perfection; because unless there be a resurrection, the same soul could not in any other way possess the same body. Tertullian, who died about 220, and who states that for one to assert the resurrection of the body was to incur the risk of being stoned to death, gives us in his apology for the resurrection almost the same reasons as Clement. In his Address to the Nations he tells them that Christians take for granted a resurrection; and that hope in this res- urrection amounts to a contempt of death. In his Address against Marcion, who denied the resurrection, Tertullian's chief work is to quote texts in proof that Marcion was a heretic; but he fails in every way to give the thoughtful Marcion any reasonable grounds for abjuring his heresy. In the middle of the third century the famous Origen wrote on the resurrection against Celsus, who denied its possibility. In his argument Origen states that the doctrine of the resurrection is a great mystery, that it is a high and 324 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. difficult doctrine, and one which more than others requires an advanced degree of wisdom; but he fails to make the mystery any more clear; or to give us any stronger reasons for believing in it. Minucius Felix, writing about the middle of the third century, assures us that the resurrection is proved by the whole course of nature. Arnobius, who wrote at the end of the third century, says it is symbolized in Pluto's myth; and Methodius, who died early in the fourth century, de- clares it is even paralleled by the generation of man. In the Constitution of the Holy Apostles, an early Christian production, we are told that the sibylline books testify to a resurrection. L,actantius also, in his Divine Institutes written about the middle of the fourth centu^, refers to these books in proof of a resurrection. While referring thus to the sacred books of the people whose religion the Christians denounced, Lactantius, nevertheless, speaks more dogmatically than his predecessors, declaring that on the resurrection day, God will visit the unbeliever with the most awful punishments, while the believer is raised to everlasting blessedness; nor does he hesitate to set forth minutely the different ways in which the infinite and lov- ing God will seek to avenge himself on the helpless but unbelieving creatures whom his own hands have made. We have mentioned the chief church writers during the first four hundred years, and given their reasons for be- lieving in the resurrection of the dead; but out of all these reasons we have been unable to find even one that gives us any reasonable ground for faith in the dogma of the resur- rection. Most of these reasons are too childish to mention; the rest are partly mere repetitions of irrelative facts, and partly quotations whose truth remains unproved and un- provable. Why is it that after nineteen hundred years of preaching and threatening, the most enlightened minds of THE RESU-RRECTION. 325 the world are unable really to believe in the doctrine of the resurrection? Is it because of wilful refusal? Is it because of a desire that the dogma should be false? Neither of these can possibly be the reason; for man is predisposed to faith in the resurrection. The cause of this predisposition is not far to find; and the result of this predisposition enables the priest to sow his dogmatic seed on many a piece of fallow ground, that brings forth a thousand-fold. Man is a very self-conceit- ed animal; and the labors of dogmatists, moralists, and psychologists, moved in general by the same motives of gain, or prevented from acting sincerely and boldly through the fear of estranging their friends, or of the loss of pres- tige, have greatly strengthened man in this conceit. In his studies, true enough, he is frequently brought face to face with the fact that zoology classifies him as a member of the animal kingdom, a single limb of a common tree, a branch of a common stock ; but he is not a little offended at any attempt to subject him to the natural results of such a classification. His admission that he belongs to the animal world, is a mere lordly condescension, or an ad- mitted relation which he feels he may at any time deny. Nor is such a feeling of superiority at all to be wondered at, as it is one which manifests itself, more or less, through every plane and sphere of life, and is undoubtedly coexten- sive with the whole animal world. With the increase of in- telligence, we are sure, comes the decrease of this feeling of greatness; but rare indeed is he who is willing to admit either his own ignorance, or the insignificant part he plays in the world of being. Man is ever willing, as Cicero, to magnify the worth of his deeds, and to imagine that his name will be held in honor by the generations to come ; that he will be called "wonderful counsellor," after the names and vain doings of his contemporaries shall have 326 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. been lost in oblivion. No word in the English language is smaller than the pronoun, I; but on the other hand no other word is regarded by us as having such a precious content; and anything and everything which in our judgment tends to increase the value of this content, is eagerly accept- ed. We are in haste to find out the abode of a rich and influential relative; but we are more than willing to let the home of the poor and lowly one remain unknown to us. While a few of us may not seek to be flattered; all want to be praised, or regarded as superior to our own fellows. Having such a feeling of superiority, it is not at all strange that many are found willing to subscribe to the dogma of the resurrection, even though, at the same time, fearing that they really are but members of the animal world, they despair of the truth of the dogma; or that so many sit pas- sively in their own pews while their ministers make their unproved and unprovable assertions, and fulminate their anathemas against unbelief and unbelievers. Man is predisposed to believe in the resurrection also, because of a desire of a reunion after death. If the res- urrection of the body were really necessary to a reunion after death with our departed friends, in the highest and truest sense, then I for one should be inclined at least to hope for it; but since it can not be shown that this reunion after death is at all conditioned on the resurrection of the body, I should certainly be foolish to entertain any such delusive hope against science and reason. Belief in the resurrection, however, based on the desire of again being with those we have so much loved, is at least founded on something else than conceit. Indeed, scarcely could a noble man be blamed for indulging such a hope, even though there were no vested priest, nor mitered bishop, and church bell had never tolled; for true love is not sel- fish, but seeks another's good. It labors not to sound the THE RESURRECTION. 327 praise of self, nor to magnify one's own superiority. It is the fairest tree in the garden of God, but it is grafted on another; and all the flowers it bears, and the perfume it sheds, are used to beautify and make redolent the life of another. The beauty and worth of friendship can never be overestimated; it is a principle truly divine, full of solace, full of hope; yet, how much more praise- worthy and holy is that all-over-powering love which man feels for the woman in whom the forces of his being are centered. O woman, thou art God's true high-priest, his faithful pro- phet and teacher, and his most blessed angel! Without thee the sun does lose its potent heat, the earth its greenness, and the heart its buoyant hope. When moved by this holy force of love two noble hearts that have beaten together in joys and sorrows, are riven asunder by the strong arm of Death; when beauty, and hope, and consolation are taken away from man, is it any wonder that he should yield a willing assent to the dogma of the resurrection. Indeed, having such fallow ground and fruitful soil, the wonder is, not that the church should have succeeded in making so many believe in the doctrine, but rather that her success should be so limited, and the believers in the dogma so few. But the reader may contend that the be- lievers in this dogma are not few; that multitudes assert their belief in it two or more times each week, by the re- petition of the Creed. Our reply is, that repeating the Creed is not believing in it. A few months ago a lady, who was an Episcopalian and had been all her life, told me that though she had repeated the Creed year after year, she had never been able in her heart really to believe in it ; and the writer knows that the acknowledged disagreement be- tween the heart and lips of this woman was not peculiar to her, but is one that is most common to professors in general. 328 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. In showing the improbability of the resurrection of the dead, we may state first that — Man is a Member of the Animal Kingdom. A man comes to us with a report of having seen an aer- onaut ascend to the height of two miles, using for his bal- loon a soap-bubble fifty feet in diameter. Such a report without doubt would be believed by many uncultivated, un- intelligent, and unquestioning persons, especially if the re- porter should state that the balloonist had received divine assistance; but by the intelligent it would be set down as a falsehood or a joke. No amount of testimony could make the educated man believe that a thin film of water having: such a large surface exposed to unequal internal and exter- nal pressures, could possibly escape collapse under the strain necessary to effect the ascent reported. Neverthe- less, that a man should have faith in such a report, is far more reasonable than that he should believe in the dogma of the resurrection. Believing in the former does not in- volve a violation of the known laws of nature; believing in the latter does. The soap-bubble, especially if filled with hydrogen, can certainly ascend with some weight, to some height, for some time; for this has been over and over demonstrated. In the report, therefore, there would be nothing absolutely contrary to established law.-;; although it would be a gross exaggeration of the force of a soap-bubble. On the other hand, to have faith in the dogma of the res- urrection of the dead, is not to believe in a mere exaggera- tion, but in something absolutely at variance with all known universal laws. Man is a member of the animal kingdom. His generation differs in no respect from that of any other animal; and he is subject to the common laws that govern all animal life. There is not an atom in his physi- cal organism that is peculiar to him, or produced in any- way different from that in which those of any other animal THE RESURRECTION. 329 are produced. In birth, in infancy, in maturity, in decline, in death, man only exemplifies animal life in general. Dur- ing the period of gestation he assumes the forms and charac- teristics of various lower animals; and after birth, though his form is comparatively fixed, he manifests common ani- mal propensities, and is governed by common animal necessities. It takes man about twenty-five years to pass from the egg to the perfect state; while it takes the cicada about seventeen years, and the bee only about twenty days. In the beginning, indeed, "all animals from the sponge to man, appear essentially alike;" and even after quite a lit- tle time has passed, it is yet impossible to determine whether the rudimentary form under investigation is that of a frog or a human being. ' 'The gill-arches of fish origi- nally exist exactly the same in man ; and in the first months of development he possesses a real tail," (Haeckel), a rem- nant of which remains even in his perfect state. Indeed, at the age of four weeks the embryos of man and dog are almost exactly alike; and even when the human embryo is eight weeks old, it has a most striking resemblance to that of the dog at six. Every atom of man's frame is of the earth, earthy; and every atom after death returns to the earth from which it was derived. We lay the forms of our dear ones in their peaceful beds. In a few years, perhaps, a handful of dust remains; and in a few more, even that has become diffused, or incorporated in other animal and vegetable life; and the animals and vegetables thus pro- duced become in time again incorporated in the living bodies of other living forms. Thus it is that the atoms forming our frames are, as it were, but given us for present use, afterwards inevitably to be handed over to the use of others. The real title to these atoms remains in the earth alone. She grants their use for a time to certain of her off- spring, who after they become physically unable to make 330 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. a profitable use of them, are forced to yield them up, and give them over to others who use them profitably. Thus in process of time much of the earth's surface will have been incorporated in living animals; and after countless years shall have rolled around, even in human frames. The same atom will thus have passed from one human frame into another an indefinite number of times. Since, therefore, the self-same atom enters into the formation of an indefinite number of individuals, the number of differ- ent atoms that have helped to form all the human beings that have ever lived, are very small indeed compared to that vast number which have hitherto entered into the for- mation of all mankind. Now, if the dead be raised at all, they must be raised having the identical atoms they had when living. That the spirit be clothed about with a simi- lar body, is by no means a resurrection of the body that was laid in the grave. We affirm again that if the identical atom which enters into the body when living, be not raised after death in the resurrection, there is no resurrection of the dead; and that any assertion contrary to this statement will, in due time, be found to consist of empty words. Now, as the forms of energy are various, while the total amount of energy is invariable, and since it is impossible to make fifty pounds of flour out of one ounce of wheat; so, as we have seen, it is impossible to fashion out of atoms sufficient only for a million of bodies, a number sufficient for a million millions. Out of nothing, nothing comes. If the reader should hold that God Almighty can create atoms whenever necessary, we reply that even were such creation possible, it could not affect the impossibility just stated. Creation does not partake of the nature of resurrection. The one is the bringing into being, out of nothing, of that which has not been before; the other is simply the bring- ing back to being of that which has been before. The res- THE RESURRECTION'. 33 1 urrection of the dead is conditioned on the bringing back to being of the bodies that have been ; and it is this that we find impossible; since it is contrary to well-known universal laws, — to the law of the conservation of energy, to the fun- damental law of equality, and to that of common sense, and every-day experience. Another insurmountable objection to faith in the dog- ma of the resurrection, is found in the fact of the constant and incessant changes to which the body, during life, is subject. In order to understand the nature and amount of this change, one must have some knowledge of the basic elements of living organisms. As in the city there is nothing foreign to man, the city being only a multiplica- tion of the individual, so in the human framework there is nothing foreign to the individual cells which compose it; but as by the association of individual men, the possibilities and latent powers of each are called forth and manifested in civic government, and in higher and more complex activity, so do the human body and its government show us, in a higher and more complex form, the forces and latent powers of the individual cells which compose the body. In size the cell ranges from one five-hundredth to one ten-thousandth of an inch in diameter; but "within their narrow boundaries are exhibited all the essential phenomena of life, growth, development, and reproduc- tion' '. (Norton). It is as certain that every living organ- ism originates in a cell, as that the house originates in a brick or stone; and that as a house is but a multiplication of the individual brick or stone, so is the adult organism only an aggregation of the individual cells. Not only is this true, but the same elementary phenomena of life are common to all cells alike, whether it be a unicellular or- ganism, a cell of a plant, or one from the tissues of the highest animal. "The minutest cell", says Prof. Max 332 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. Verworn, "exhibits all the elementary phenomena of life. It breathes, and takes nourishment. It grows, and prop- agates itself. It moves, and reacts against stimuli". Furthermore, in lower animal life in general the waste resulting from the wear and tear of life is not so great as it is in the higher ones. In man this waste is very great indeed; for in him "the constituent cells live very fast, making much waste, and using much food". (Martin). Some idea of cell life may be had from the action of blood corpuscles. The colorless blood corpuscles act as if living animals. Each of these consists of a soft mass of proto- plasm. They change their forms constantly and sponta- neously, thrusting out one process, and retracting another. They are even seen to "creep across the field of the microscope; and they sometimes bore right through the capillaries, and creep about among the other tissues". (Martin). As they become chilled, after having been taken from the body, they get closer and closer together, as pigs on a cold day. Thus we see the elementary stones of the human temple are constantly crumbling into dust, and others take their places. The body, therefore, that we have at one moment, is not, in all of its elements, the body we have at the next; far less is the body we have to- day the body we shall have to-morrow. It is absolutely certain that the body even at the instant of the last breath of life, is not the same, in all respects, as that which is afterwards laid in the tomb; for even after we cease to breathe, many changes take place before all the vital forces cease to act. Since in life, therefore, we have really very many bodies, only one of which is dogmatically promised us in the resurrection, it follows that we can not hope that the body which we have at any particular moment can be raised from the dead; and therefore that we can not hope that the body can be raised at all. In this we have another THE RESURRECTION. 333 reason for not believing in the absurd dogma of the resur- rection of the dead. For the truth of this dogma we have no positive evidence whatever. The changes which come over the larvae of most insects in passing from their lowest to their perfect state, are held by some to be typical of the resurrection; but we find no reason whatever for such conclusion. "Man", says Norton, "is developed on the same general principles as the butterfly; but the transformations are con- cealed from view" . The likeness of man's transformations to those of the butterfly, however, has reference exclusive- ly to those transformations which occur on this side of the tomb. The organs of the larva do not change directly into those of the perfect insect, but develop gradually out of, as it were, formless matter; but the animal while in this intermediate state, is not dead. Shut up in silence, its living forces manifest the most wonderful activity, a"nd cease not until the perfect insect is produced. In such transformations we find nothing like that from life to death. Indeed, in such we find no more appearance of death than in the case of a master-builder who, having determined to change the plans of his building, ceases not his labors, but sets more men than ever to work, to finish the structure according to the new design. All animal transformations ■ are constructive; death is destructive. The one builds up; the other tears down. The one is conservation; the other is dissipation. The one is victor; the other is captive. The one is form; the other is chaos. The one is light; the other is darkness. In brief : the one is life; the other is death. We insist that the reasonable man can find nothing in animal transformations to strengthen his belief in the dogma of the resurrection. From such considerations as these, we are forced to conclude that nothing other than the common fate of animal organisms can await the human 334 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. frame. Concerning the character of the proof which we find in the New Testament for the truth of this dogma, we think suincient has been said in "God and Man," and elsewhere in this volume. Mr. Fisher, writing in support of the New Testament miracles, but speaking of those which are said to have been wrought more especially by the medieval saints, says: "It can not be denied that pious fraud played a prominent part in the biographies of the saints. When positive trickery has not been practiced, circumstances have been concealed which, if known, would have stripped many a transaction of the miraculous aspect which it wore in the eyes of the ignorant. In order than an individual may be enrolled as a saint, and invoked in this character, it has been held to be indispensable that he should have wrought miracles. It is easy to conceive not only what a stimulus this theory must have afforded to the devout imagination, but also what conscious exaggeration and wilful invention must have sprung out of such a creed. A great number of ecclesiastical miracles can be explained by natural causes. Frequently natural events of no uncom- mon occurance are viewed as supernatural. The physical effects of vigils and fastings, were no doubt in many cases salutary. Heated imagination, ardent faith, confident hope, may produce extraordinary effects. A variety of nervous disorders are cured by sudden shocks." Mr. Fisher then admits that if the Gospel miracles were of the character of the ecclesiastical, "there might be no occasion for referring them to supernatural agency;" but he, of course, denies their similarity. In reply we would say that in most ancient times, no less than in apostolic, men were predisposed to belief in the miraculous. Dreams were supernatural; comets were prophetic of dire calamity; prodigies announced every THE RESURRECTION. 335 memorable event; sacrifices prevented divine wrath. Even Cicero assures us that no one ever heard of a nation that did not believe in divination, as was proved by the exist- ence for so many ages of the temples and the oracles. This universal predisposition to faith in miracles, would naturally incline men to accept as true any reported won- der, and to unfit them for all critical investigation of the nature required. Belief in the marvelous has been in all ages the one string in the human instrument, on which priests and bishops have delighted most to play. "Their power has always grown, with the extinction of civil gov- ernment, and the spread of superstition." (Bryce.) Apol- lonius of Tyana, whom the pagans declared superior to Christ, was said to have raised the dead, cast out devils, healed the sick, and to have performed countless other miracles equally wonderful. In like manner Porphyry was held to have exorcised evil spirits, and Iamblicus to have made himself appear, by praying, ten cubits tall, and to have drawn out of the waters the goddesses of rivers, and to have exhibited them in bodily form. Eleazer, a Jew, drew a devil through the nostrils of an afflicted person. That the followers of Christ should have believed that he possessed miraculous power, is only what might be ex- pected; nor is it any more strange that the medieval saints should have professed to do what they believed their mas- ter did. According to Irenaeus all Christians had the power to work miracles. He tells us that they prophesied, cast out devils, raised the dead, and healed the sick. Au- gustine assures us that many miracles were performed, some of which he had himself witnessed. The relics of saints gave sight to the blind, and expelled wicked spirits. In the sixth century the blood of St. Stephen is said to have been found upon the altar in Bordeau. In the dio- cese of Tours an altar had been raised near the grave of a 336 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. supposed saint. To make himself sure of the character of the person who had been interred there, St. Martin stood upon the grave, and prayed that God would remove all doubt from his mind. Instantly a frightful-looking ghost is said to have appeared, saying, "I was a robber, and these are my bones. " A finger of St. Celsus is reported not to have been in the least affected by the fiercest flames, even after long exposure; and a piece of linen with which Christ is said to have wiped the apostles' feet, could not, it is reported, be consumed by the fire. When Clovis sought to carry away a bone from the body of St. Dennis, the ec- clesiastics tell us he was immediately struck with blindness. They also affirm that the relics of Saints Peter and Paul wrought most wonderful miracles, similar in character to those we have mentioned. Gregory the Great assures us that the bishop of Placentia wrote a letter to the river Po, when it had overflowed some church lands; and that when the letter was thrown into the waters, the river immediate- ly fell back into its customary bed. The fame of Gregory Thaumaturgus as a wonder-worker was too world-wide to need mention. We have need only to say that for the genuineness of his miracles the ecclesiastics have produced a host of witnesses. It is useless to reason with any man who holds that such miracles are, in their character, different from those reported in the New Testament. For our own part we can explain Mr. Fisher's position only on the grounds of the charge which he himself brings against the ecclesiastical miracles: his apology for the New Testament miracles should be regarded as made "in coincidence with a prevailing system, and for the furtherance of it." Not only are there a vast number of reported ecclesiastical miracles whose wonderful character is fully equal to that of any of those in the New Testament, but many of them THE RESURRECTION. 337 are far better substantiated. The charge, however, which Mr. Fisher brings against the ecclesiastical miracles, is true; but the apology he makes for those of the New Tes- tament, is utterly groundless. No reasonable man can found his faith or hope on miracles; for they can not be substantiated. It is impossible to remove the feeling that they may have originated in some way or other as Mr. Fisher and thousands of other able writers before him, have described. We can not, therefore, appeal to miracles in proof of the dogma of the resurrection. So convinced was Merton of the absurdity of the dogma of the resurrection, that at the last Easter services he held in the Episcopal church, while declaring the power of Jesus to raise his followers out of a life of sinful indifference to a life of holy activity, he did not hesitate to state to his peo- ple that he did not believe the bodily resurrection of Jesus Christ had been sufficiently substantiated to remove honest doubt from the thoughtful and scholarly mind. In conclusion, we can not too forcibly remind the reader that this chapter has not been written with the view of weakening his religious inclinations, but rather of strength- ening them. We fully believe that God is no respecter of persons; that He has no favorites, no elect, no chosen peo- ple; that what He has done for any, He has done for all; and that what He has not done for all, He has not done for any. His laws are for all. His spirit is in and over all, transforming, purifying, sanctifying, and encouraging; and it is led by this spirit that humanity worships, adores, and glorifies the ever-living and only God and Father of all. There could be no greater miracle than that man who needs a miracle to convince him of his duty and privilege to adore his Creator, and chant the universal hymn of praise to God. ti CHAPTER XXXIII. THE HEAVENLY ADVERSARY. {Numbers xxii. 22.) {A Sermon by Henry Merton.) i ^'TpHERE is no subject which brings religion into such antagonism with science, as that of prayer. There are many ignorant, earnest Christians who fully believe in the power of prayer to move the Deity to act in their be- half. On the other hand, most scientists affirm that prayer is not only irrational, but that it partakes of the nature of irreverence, if not of blasphemy. Such men may find some reasonable hope of immortality; but they find no grounds whatever of hoping for an answer to prayer. Nor must it be supposed that only irreligious scientists and infidels thus deny the efficacy of prayer; for even some who are among the most religious take the same position. Says Eckhart: 'Thou needst not tell God what thou hast need of; he knows it all beforehand. If I pray for anything, I pray for that which is nothing. He who prays for anything besides God, prays for that which is an idol. The pure man does not pray; for every prayer is for some definite object, but the heart of the pure craves for nothing. God is not moved by our prayers. He has foreseen all things from eternity, including, therefore, our prayers; and he has from all eter- nity granted or refused them'. "But if prayer has no other value, it is certainly of in- finite value in its subjective influence. We should pray rather that God's will be done in us, than for any special object or favor. "Near the close of Israel's wanderings, and on the east- ern side of the Jordan , opposite J ericho , might have been seen two men,Balak and Balaam, the former being the king of 338 THE HEAVENLY ADVERSARY. 339 Moab, the latter his heathen priest. Balak saw what the chosen people had lately done to the Amorites, and fearful that his own subjects might be dispossessed of their country by these strange Israelites, who, he says, were sufficiently numerous to ' lick up all around about them as the ox licketh up the grass of the field,' besought Balaam to importune with God to rid him of the Israelitish immigrators. " Whoever Balaam was, as a priest he stood high in the hearts of the people, and, without reasonable doubt, was in favor with God ; for the king says : I know whom thou blessest, is blest ; and whom thou cursest, is cursed. He therefore sent the elders of his people with gitts to his priest that he might intercede in his behalf, and turn Jehovah against the chosen race. As asked, Balaam prays, but is commanded not to curse whom the Lord hath blessed. Ba- lak does not yet despair He appeals to the pride of the priest by sending him princes as messengers bearing the promise of great promotion, and even of royal obedience, if only the priest come, and pray against the Israelites ; but Balaam nobly says: If Balak would give me his house full of silver and gold, I can not go beyond the word of the Lord my God to do less or more. Again the word of the Lord is unfavorable to the king who once more importunes his priest to plead with God against the Israelites. Five times does this priest, by request of the king, seek to know if God will oppose the progress of the Israelites. After his second in- tercession with God, and on going to have a personal inter- view with the king, he is met on hTs way by the Angel of Jehovah who opposes his progress with drawn sword. The priest forthwith confesses his sins, but pleads his ignorance of having God for an adversary. On the whole the charac- ter of this heathen priest compares very favorably with that of the Christian priests of to-day ; for the word that God ,34o Footprints of a soul. put into his mouth, that would he speak, and none other, though his house were filled with silver and gold. " In considering our very important subject, we shall seek to throw light upon the question, when may we expect to be opposed by the heavenly adversary. " (I) : Rome is coming into prominence. The descend- ants of Romulus and Remus, though at first despised by the Carthaginians, are now getting to be treated with deference. Their merchant-ships frequent ports hitherto visited by the Carthaginians only. The city upon seven hills must be plowed up, if Carthage holds her sway. One of the bravest and most skilful generals that ever led armies to battle, is sworn by deadly oath never to sheathe his sword, till hated Rome be humbled. The foes have their priests who day by day plead with God for victory ; the generals and the sol- diers gaze into the face of God for a sign. Heaven and earth are invoked by the hostile armies ; thousands upon thousands lie weltering in their blood ; the eternal city is threatened, but the tide turns. Rome sails out to sea a stately ship, and mistress of the world ; Carthage is thrown on shore a pitiable hulk, and left to be buried by the drift- ing sands of time. These countries were not Christian ; but who dares to say that no praying hearts were found among these people ? Could a man be the author of Cato Major, and never pray to God ? Could the heathen priests and temples receive from the people such lavish offerings, unless the people had faith in their worship ? We have every reas- on to believe that such people, without the knowledge of Christ, had a knowledge of the one God and Savior of all. They having not the law, were a law unto themselves, their consciences bearing witness unto the truth. Where there is a heart to pray according to the light given, there is there a God to bless. Rome grew, spreading her branches into every land ; scattering literature, arts and science into the THE HEAVENLY ADVERSARY. 34 1 darkness of heathendom ; opening the channels of commu- nication by inculcating an harmonious and universal lang- uage ; and crowning all with a jurisprudence the growth of centuries, and the wonder of the then known world. Her noble minds are to be the vehicles of higher truths; her philosophy is to be given to the nations as the outward garb of righteousness, — even to distant Britain which, in the ages to come, was to develope a nobler freedom, and an intenser light for those sitting in darkness, and in the valley of the shadow of death. Carthage, with all her prayers and sacri- fices, was to cease to be remembered : her cruel laws, her heartless oligarchy, her inhuman butchery, her stunted lit- erature, her lack of an appreciative moral-sense, were all to pass away. " France impelled forward by monk and friar, is not to rule the western world, but England is to enter in, and take possession. Her strong sense of justice, her love of princi- ple, her sense of duty, her spirit of freedom, are marked qualities of the nation that God destined to be the educator of the world. The world writhes under the heels of Bona- parte, and liberty's blood sends up its cry from the ground of oppression. God hears the cry ; and Waterloo rescues humanity from the spirit of tyranny. Thousands of faithful prayers from cottage and temple had ascended for the suc- cess of the great general ; but God winked at them : free- dom must extend her sway, and the truth must be preached, and the chariot of the true Christ move triumphantly on. France, powerful as she is, and pray as she does, in 1815, is not permitted to sway the nations. " Mary is very ardent, zealous and prayerful for the Roman cause ; and bishops and priests, then as now, invoke the blessing of the Almighty upon her endeavor to extirpate the great schism and heresy. The machinery of the church — the sword, the pike and the faggot, are on hand in abund- 342 FOOTPRINTS OF A SOUL. ance, to add force to the prayers of the priests ; but the blood of Latimer and Ridley is stronger than the papacy, and cries to God for vengeance from the Smithfield fires. This small but worthy sacrifice for truth and freedom was accepted ; and Latimer and Ridley lit a candle in England that never can be put out. The blood of martyrs is the seed of truth. That seed has taken deep root with us. The pray, ers of the Bloody Queen, though fervent and faithful, availed, not. She died, and the power of Romanism, in England, died with her. "(II): A faithful mother bends over the fever-lit eyes of her dying son. It is her only boy, and her heart yearns over him. Already over the grave of her husband, whom she loved so dearly, is the grass growing green. How can this widowed heart give up her only support ? Must the angel of death reap on such a blighted ground ? Must the heart lose its last object of love, the eye its lustre, and the breast its hope ? ' Take this bitter cup from me, O my Father,' she cries ; 'oh, spare my boy, my only boy, that the springs of my life may not be altogether dried up ! ' Few prayers so fervent as this of the lonely and broken- hearted mother ; but, alas ! it availeth not. Her boy was laid in the cold, cold grave, by the side of her husband ; and she is alone in the world, a miserable object of charity. Perhaps the son was taken from the evil to come. The tree had borne but little fruit ; but had it been left in the garden, it might have become worm-eaten, and, thus cumbering the ground, been cut down, and cast into the fire. "In a paternal mansion a happy gathering is seen. Faces are flushed with pride, spirits jubilant with joy ; for another unit is to be added to the nation, a new family circle formed, a new centre of pleasure created. No heart-thrust can be received from the world, that may not now be healed by loving hands at home ; for the twain shall be no longer two THE HEAVENLY ADVERSARY. 343 but one. No tears can flow, which may not now be wiped away ; no woe endured, which is not gladly shared. Even here, into this union of hearts, does death make an entrance, and rive the bonds asunder. Without apparent aggravation or cause, the chariot and horsemen have taken the spirit of the fair one to the skies, leaving the bereaved to wither and