Life Without and Life Within Part 23

Nature is kind, and G.o.d is kind; And, if she had not had a heart, Only that great discerning mind, She might have acted well her part.

But O this thirst, that nought can fill, Save those unfounden waters free!

The angel of my life must still And soothe me in eternity!

It marks the defect in the position of woman that one like Mariana should have found reason to write thus. To a man of equal power, equal sincerity, no more!--many resources would have presented themselves. He would not have needed to seek, he would have been called by life, and not permitted to be quite wrecked through the affections only. But such women as Mariana are often lost, unless they meet some man of sufficiently great soul to prize them.

Van Artevelde's Elena, though in her individual nature unlike my Mariana, is like her in a mind whose large impulses are disproportioned to the persons and occasions she meets, and which carry her beyond those reserves which mark the appointed lot of woman. But, when she met Van Artevelde, he was too great not to revere her rare nature, without regard to the stains and errors of its past history; great enough to receive her entirely, and make a new life for her; man enough to be a lover! But as such men come not so often as once an age, their presence should not be absolutely needed to sustain life.

SUNDAY MEDITATIONS ON VARIOUS TEXTS.

MEDITATION FIRST.

"And Jesus, answering, said unto them, Have faith in G.o.d."--_Mark_ xi. 22.

O, direction most difficult to follow! O, counsel most mighty of import!

Beauteous harmony to the purified soul! Mysterious, confounding as an incantation to those yet groping and staggering amid the night, the fog, the chaos of their own inventions!

Yes, this is indeed the beginning and the end of all knowledge and virtue; the way and the goal; the enigma and its solution. The soul cannot prove to herself the existence of a G.o.d; she cannot prove her own immortality; she cannot prove the beauty of virtue, or the deformity of vice; her own consciousness, the first ground of this belief, cannot be compa.s.sed by the reason, that inferior faculty which the Deity gave for practical, temporal purposes only. This consciousness is divine; it is part of the Deity; through this alone we sympathize with the imperishable, the infinite, the nature of things. Were reason commensurate with this part of our intellectual life, what should we do with the things of time? The leaves and buds of earth would wither beneath the sun of our intelligence; its crags and precipices would be levelled before the mighty torrent of our will; all its dross would crumble to ashes under the fire of our philosophy.

G.o.d willed it otherwise; WHY, who can guess? Why this planet, with its tormenting limitations of s.p.a.ce and time, was ever created,--why the soul was cased in this clogging, stifling integument, (which, while it conveys to the soul, in a roundabout way, knowledge which she might obviously acquire much better without its aid, tempts constantly to vice and indolence, suggesting sordid wants, and hampering or hindering thought,)--I pretend not to say. Let others toil to stifle sad distrust a thousand ways. Let them satisfy themselves by reasonings on the nature of free agency; let them imagine it was impossible men should be purified to angels, except by resisting the temptations of guilt and crime; let them be _reasonably_ content to feel that

"Faith conquers in no easy war; By toil alone the prize is won; The grape dissolves not in the cup-- Wine from the crus.h.i.+ng press must run; And would a spirit heavenward go, A heart must break in death below."

Why an _omnipotent_ Deity should permit evil, either as necessary to produce good, or incident to laws framed for its production, must remain a mystery to me. True, _we_ cannot conceive how the world could have been ordered differently, and because _we_,--beings half of clay; beings bred amid, and nurtured upon imperfection and decay; beings who must not only sleep and eat, but pa.s.s the greater part of their temporal day in procuring the means to do so,--because WE, creatures so limited and blind, so weak of thought and dull of hearing, cannot conceive how evil could have been dispensed with, those among us who are styled _wise_ and _learned_ have thought fit to a.s.sume that the Infinite, the Omnipotent, could not have found a way! "Could not," "evil must be incident"--terms invented to express the thoughts or deeds of the children of dust. Shall they be applied to the Omnipotent? Is a confidence in the goodness of G.o.d more trying to faith, than the belief that a G.o.d exists, to whom these words, transcending our powers of conception, apply? O, no, no!

"_Have faith in G.o.d!_" Strive to expand thy soul to the feeling of wisdom, of beauty, of goodness; live, and act as if these were the necessary elements of things; "live for thy faith, and thou shalt behold it living." In another world G.o.d will repay thy trust, and "reveal to thee the first causes of things which Leibnitz could not," as the queen of Prussia said, when she was dying. Socrates has declared that the belief in the soul's immortality is so delightful, so elevating, so purifying, that even were it not the truth, "we should daily strive to enchant ourselves with it." And thus with faith in wisdom and goodness,--that is to say, in G.o.d,--the earthquake-defying, rock-foundation of our hopes is laid; the sun-greeting dome which crowns the most superb palace of our knowledge is builded. A n.o.ble and accomplished man, of a later day, has said, "To credit ordinary and visible objects is not faith, but persuasion. I bless myself, and am thankful, that I lived not in the days of miracles, that I never saw Christ, nor his disciples; then had my faith been thrust upon me, nor could I enjoy that greater blessing p.r.o.nounced upon those who believe yet saw not."

I cannot speak thus proudly and heartily. I find the world of sense strong enough against the intellectual and celestial world. It is easy to believe in our pa.s.sionless moments, or in those when earth would seem too dark without the guiding star of faith; but to _live_ in faith, not sometimes to feel, but always to have it, is difficult. Were faith ever with us, how steady would be our energy, how equal our ambition, how calmly bright our hopes! The darts of envy would be blunted, the cup of disappointment lose its bitterness, the impa.s.sioned eagerness of the heart be stilled, tears would fall like holy dew, and blossoms fragrant with celestial May ensue.

But the prayer of most of us must be, "Lord, we believe--help thou our unbelief!" These are to me the most significant words of Holy Writ. I _will_ to believe; O, guide, support, strengthen, and soothe me to do so! Lord, grant me to believe firmly, and to act n.o.bly. Let me not be tempted to waste my time, and weaken my powers, by attempts to soar on feeble pinions "where angels bashful look." In _faith_ let me interpret the universe!

MEDITATION SECOND.

"Why is light given to a man whose way is hid, and whom G.o.d hath hedged in?"--_Job_ iii. 23.

This pathetic inquiry rises from all parts of the globe, from millions of human souls, to that heaven from whence the light proceeds. From the young, full of eager aspirations after virtue and glory; with the glance of the falcon to descry the high-placed aim,--but ah! the wing of the wren to reach it! The young enthusiast must often weep. His heart glows, his eye sparkles as he reads of the youthful triumphs of a Pompey, the sublime devotion of an Agis;[34] he shuts the book, he looks around him for a theatre whereon to do likewise--petty pursuits, mean feelings, and trifling pleasures meet his eye; the cold breeze of selfishness has nipped every flower; the dull glow of prosaic life overpowers the beauties of the landscape. He plunges into the unloved pursuit, or some despised amus.e.m.e.nt, to soothe that day's impatience, and wakes on the morrow, crying, "I have lost a day; and where, where shall I now turn my steps to find the destined path?" The gilded image of some petty victory holds forth a talisman which seems to promise him sure tokens. He rushes forward; the swords of foes and rivals bar the way; the ground trembles and gives way beneath his feet; rapid streams, unseen at a distance, roll between him and the object of his pursuit; faint, giddy and exhausted by the loss of his best blood, he reaches the goal, seizes the talisman; his eyes devour the inscription--alas! the characters are unknown to him. He looks back for some friend who might aid him,--his friends are whelmed beneath the torrent, or have turned back disheartened. He must struggle onward alone and ignorant as before; yet in his wishes there is light.

Another is attracted by a lovely phantom; with airy step she precedes him, holding, as he thinks, in her upward-pointing hand the faithful needle which might point him to the pole-star of his wishes. Unwearied he follows, imploring her in most moving terms to pause but a moment and let him take her hand. Heedless she flits onward to some hopeless desert, where she pauses only to turn to her unfortunate captive the malicious face of a very Morgana.

The old,--O their sighs are deeper still! They have wandered far, toiled much; the true light is now shown them. Ah, why was it reflected so falsely through "life's many-colored dome of painted gla.s.s" upon their youthful, anxious gaze? And now the path they came by is hedged in by new circ.u.mstances against the feet of others, and its devious course vainly mapped in their memories; should the light of their example lead others into the same track, these unlucky followers will vainly seek an issue. They attempt to unroll their charts for the use of their children, and their children's children. They feed the dark lantern of wisdom with the oil of experience, and hold it aloft over the declivity up which these youth are blundering, in vain; some fall, misled by the flickering light; others seek by-paths, along which they hope to be guided by suns or moons of their own. All meet at last, only to bemoan or sneer together. How many strive with feverish zeal to paint on the clouds of outward life the hues of their own souls; what do not these suffer? What baffling,--what change in the atmosphere on which they depend,--yet _not_ in vain! Something they realize, something they grasp, something (O, how unlike the theme of their hope!) they have created. A transient glow, a deceitful thrill,--these be the blisses of mortals. Yet have these given birth to n.o.ble deeds, and thoughts worthy to be recorded by the pens of angels on the tablets of immortality.

And this, O man! is thy only solace in those paroxysms of despair which must result to the yet eager heart from the vast disproportion between our perceptions and our exhibition of those perceptions. Seize on all the twigs that may help thee in thine ascent, though the thorns upon them rend thee. Toil ceaselessly towards the Source of light, and remember that he who thus eloquently lamented found that, although far worse than his dark presentiments had pictured came upon him, though vainly he feared and trembled, and there was no safety for him, yet his sighings came before his meat, and, happy in their recollection, he found at last that danger and imprisonment are but for a season, and that G.o.d is _good_, as he is great.

APPEAL FOR AN ASYLUM FOR DISCHARGED FEMALE CONVICTS.

The ladies of the Prison a.s.sociation have been from time to time engaged in the endeavor to procure funds for establis.h.i.+ng this asylum.[35] They have met, thus far, with little success; but touched by the position of several women, who, on receiving their discharge, were anxiously waiting in hope there would be means provided to save them from return to their former suffering and polluted life, they have taken a house, and begun their good work, in faith that Heaven must take heed that such an enterprise may not fail, and touch the hearts of men to aid it.

They have taken a house, and secured the superintendence of an excellent matron. There are already six women under her care. But this house is unprovided with furniture, or the means of securing food for body and mind to these unfortunates, during the brief novitiate which gives them so much to learn and unlearn.

The object is to lend a helping hand to the many who show a desire of reformation, but have hitherto been inevitably repelled into infamy by the lack of friends to find them honest employment, and a temporary refuge till it can be procured. Efforts will be made to instruct them how to break up bad habits, and begin a healthy course for body and mind.

The house has in it scarcely any thing. It is a true Lazarus establishment, asking for the crumbs that fall from the rich man's table. Old furniture would be acceptable, clothes, books that are no longer needed by their owners.

This statement we make in appealing to the poor, though they are, usually, the most generous. Not that they are, originally, better than the rich, but circ.u.mstances have fitted them to appreciate the misfortunes, the trials, the wrongs that beset those a little lower than themselves. But we have seen too many instances where those who were educated in luxury would cast aside sloth and selfishness with eagerness when once awakened to better things, not to hope in appealing to the rich also.

And to all we appeal: to the poor, who will know how to sympathize with those who are not only poor but degraded, diseased, likely to be hurried onward to a shameful, hopeless death; to the rich, to equalize the advantages of which they have received more than their share; to men, to atone for wrongs inflicted by men on that "weaker s.e.x," who should, they say, be soft, confiding, dependent on them for protection; to women, to feel for those who have not been guarded either by social influence or inward strength from that first mistake which the opinion of the world makes irrevocable for women alone. Since their danger is so great, their fall so remediless, let mercies be multiplied when there is a chance of that partial restoration which society at present permits.

In New York we have come little into contact with that cla.s.s of society which has a surplus of leisure at command; but in other cities we have, found in their ranks many--some men, more women--who wanted only a decided object and clear light to fill the n.o.ble office of disinterested educators and guardians to their less fortunate fellows. It has been our happiness, in not a few instances, by merely apprising such persons of what was to be done, to rouse that generous spirit which relieved them from ennui and a gradual ossification of the whole system, and transferred them into a thoughtful, sympathetic, and beneficent existence. Such, no doubt, are near us here, if we could but know it. A poet writes thus of the cities:--

Cities of proud hotels, Houses of rich and great, A stack of smoking chimneys, A roof of frozen slate!

It cannot conquer folly, Time, and s.p.a.ce, conquering steam, And the light, outspeeding telegraph, Bears nothing on its beam.

The politics are base, The letters do not cheer, And 'tis far in the deeps of history, The voice that speaketh clear.

Trade and the streets insnare us, Our bodies are weak and worn, We plot and corrupt each other, And we despoil the unborn.

Yet there in the parlor sits Some figure of n.o.ble guise, Our angel in a stranger's form, Or woman's pleading eyes.

Or only a flas.h.i.+ng sunbeam In at the window pane, Or music pours on mortals Its beautiful disdain.

These "pleading eyes," these "angels in strangers' forms," we meet, or seem to meet, as we pa.s.s through the thoroughfares of this great city.

We do not know their names or homes. We cannot go to those still and sheltered abodes and tell them the tales that would be sure to awaken the heart to a deep and active interest in this matter. But should these words meet their eyes, we would say, "Have you entertained your leisure hours with the Mysteries of Paris, or the pathetic story of Violet Woodville?" Then you have some idea how innocence, worthy of the brightest planet, may be betrayed by want, or by the most generous tenderness; how the energies of a n.o.ble reformation may lie hidden beneath the ashes of a long burning, as in the case of "La Louve." You must have felt that yourselves are not better, only more protected children of G.o.d than these. Do you want to link these fictions, which have made you weep, with facts around you where your pity might be of use? Go to the Penitentiary at Blackwell's Island. You may be repelled by seeing those who are in health while at work together, keeping up one another's careless spirit and effrontery by bad a.s.sociation. But see them in the Hospital,--where the worn features of the sick show the sad ruins of past loveliness, past gentleness. See in the eyes of the nurses the woman's spirit still, so kindly, so inspiring. See those little girls huddled in a corner, their neglected dress and hair contrasting with some ribbon of cherished finery held fast in a childish hand. Think what "sweet seventeen" was to you, and what it is to them, and see if you do not wish to aid in any enterprise that gives them a chance of better days. We a.s.sume no higher claim for this enterprise. The dreadful social malady which creates the need of it, is one that imperatively demands deep-searching, preventive measures; it is beyond cure. But, here and there, some precious soul may be saved from unwilling sin, unutterable woe. Is not the hope to save here and there _one_ worthy of great and persistent sacrifice?

THE RICH MAN.

AN IDEAL SKETCH.

In my walks through this city, the sight of s.p.a.cious and expensive dwelling-houses now in process of building, has called up the following reverie.

All benevolent persons, whether deeply-thinking on, or deeply-feeling, the woes, difficulties, and dangers of our present social system, are agreed that either great improvements are needed, or a thorough reform.

Those who desire the latter include the majority of thinkers. And we ourselves, both from personal observation and the testimony of others, are convinced that a radical reform is needed; not a reform that rejects the instruction of the past, or a.s.serts that G.o.d and man have made mistakes till now. We believe that all past developments have taken place under natural and necessary laws, and that the Paternal Spirit has at no period forgotten his children, but granted to all generations and all ages their chances of good to balance inevitable ills. We prize the past; we recognize it as our parent, our nurse, and our teacher; and we know that for a time the new wine required the old bottles, to prevent its being spilled upon the ground.

Still we feel that the time is come which not only permits, but demands, a wider statement and a n.o.bler action. The aspect of society presents mighty problems, which must be solved by the soul of man "divinely-intending" itself to the task, or all will become worse instead of better, and ere long the social fabric totter to decay.

Yet while the new measures are ripening, and the new men educating, there is still room on the old platform for some worthy action. It is possible for a man of piety, resolution, and good sense, to lead a life which, if not expansive, generous, graceful, and pure from suspicion and contempt, is yet not entirely unworthy of his position as the child of G.o.d, and ruler of a planet.

Let us take, then, some men just where they find themselves, in a mixed state of society, where, in quant.i.ty, we are free to say the bad preponderates, though the good, from its superior energy in quality, may finally redeem and efface its plague-spots.