Nature taught us that she wastireless in the prodigality of her creative force, and boundless inthe diversity of her workmanship; and we now knew that what theancients called spirit was simply an attenuated condition of matter.
The audience were evidently keenly intellectual and highly educated,and they listened with great attention to this discourse. In fact, Ibegan to perceive that the office of preacher has only survived, inthis material age, on condition that the priest shall gather up,during the week, from the literary and scientific publications of thewhole world, the gems of current thought and information, digest themcarefully, and pour them forth, in attractive form, for theirdelectation on Sunday. As a sort of oratorical and poetical reviewer,essayist and rhapsodist, the parson and his church had survived thedecadence of religion.
"Nature," he continued, "is as merciless as she is prolific. Let usconsider the humblest little creature that lives--we will say thefield-mouse. Think what an exquisite compendium it is of bones,muscles, nerves, veins, arteries--all sheathed in such a delicate,flexible and glossy covering of skin. Observe the innumerable andbeautiful adjustments in the little animal: the bright, pumping,bounding blood; the brilliant eyes, with their marvelous powers; theapprehending brain, with its sentiments and emotions, its loves, itsfears, its hopes; and note, too, that wonderful net-work, thattelegraphic apparatus of nerves which connects the brain with theeyes and ears and quick, vivacious little feet. One who took but ahalf view of things would say, 'How benevolent is Nature, that has sokindly equipped the tiny field-mouse with the means ofprotection--its quick, listening ears; its keen, watchful eyes; itsrapid, glancing feet!' But look a little farther, my brethren, andwhat do you behold? This same benevolent Nature has formed another,larger creature, to watch for and spring upon this 'timorous littlebeastie,' even in its moments of unsuspecting happiness, and rend,tear, crush and mangle it to pieces. And to this especial work Naturehas given the larger animal a set of adjustments as exquisitelyperfect as those it has conferred on the smaller one; to-wit: eyes tobehold in the darkness; teeth to tear; claws to rend; muscles tospring; patience to wait; and a stomach that clamors for the blood ofits innocent fellow-creature.
"And what lesson does this learned and cultured age draw from thesefacts? Simply this: that the plan of Nature necessarily involvescruelty, suffering, injustice, destruction, death.
"We are told by a school of philanthropists more numerous in the oldtime, fortunately, than they are at present, that men should not behappy while their fellow-men are miserable; that we must decrease ourown pleasures to make others comfortable; and much more of the samesort. But, my brethren, does Nature preach that gospel to the catwhen it destroys the field-mouse? No; she equips it with specialaptitudes for the work of slaughter.
"If Nature, with her interminable fecundity, pours forth millions ofhuman beings for whom there is no place on earth, and no means ofsubsistence, what affair is that of ours, my brethren? We did notmake them; we did not ask Nature to make them. And it is Nature'sbusiness to feed them, not yours or mine. Are we better than Nature?Are we wiser? Shall we rebuke the Great Mother by caring for thosewhom she has abandoned? If she intended that all men should be happy,why did she not make them so? She is omnipotent. She permits evil toexist, when with a breath of her mouth she could sweep it awayforever. But it is part of her scheme of life. She is indifferent tothe cries of distress which rise up to her, in one undying wail, fromthe face of the universe. With stony eyes the thousand-handed goddesssits, serene and merciless, in the midst of her worshipers, like aHindoo idol. Her skirts are wet with blood; her creation is based ondestruction; her lives live only by murder. The cruel images of thepagan are truer delineations of Nature than the figures which typifythe impotent charity of Christendom--an exotic in the midst of analien world.
"Let the abyss groan. Why should we trouble ourselves. Let us closeour ears to the cries of distress we are not able to relieve. It wassaid of old time, 'Many are called, but few chosen.' Our ancestorsplaced a mythical interpretation on this text; but we know that itmeans:--many are called to the sorrows of life, but few are chosen toinherit the delights of wealth and happiness. Buddha told us,'Poverty is the curse of Brahma'; Mahomet declared that 'God smotethe wicked with misery'; and Christ said, 'The poor ye have alwayswith you.' Why, then, should we concern ourselves about the poor?They are part of the everlasting economy of human society. Let usleave them in the hands of Nature. She who made them can care forthem.
"Let us rejoice that out of the misery of the universe we arereserved for happiness. For us are music, painting, sculpture, theinterweaving glories of the dance, the splendors of poetry andoratory, the perfume of flowers, all delicate and dainty viands andsparkling wines and nectars; and above all Love! Love! Entrancing,enrapturing Love! With its glowing cheeks--its burning eyes--its hotlips--its wreathing arms--its showering kisses--its palpitatingbosoms--its intertwining symmetry of beauty and of loveliness."
Here the young lady with the song book drew up closer to me, andlooked up into my eyes with a gaze which no son of Adam couldmisunderstand. I thought of Estella, like a true knight, and turnedmy face to the preacher. While his doctrines were, to me, utterlyheartless and abominable, there was about him such an ecstasy ofvoluptuousness, associated with considerable intellectual force andpassionate oratory, that I was quite interested in him as apsychological study. I could not help but think by what slow stages,through many generations, a people calling themselves Christianscould have been brought to this curious commingling ofintellectuality and bestiality; and all upon the basis ofindifference to the sorrows and sufferings of their fellow-creatures.
"On with the dance!" shouted the preacher, "though we dance abovegraves. Let the very calamities of the world accentuate ourpleasures, even as the warm and sheltered fireside seems moredelightful when we hear without the roar of the tempest. The ancientEgyptians brought into their banquets the mummied bodies of the dead,to remind them of mortality. It was a foolish custom. Men are made tofeast and made to die; and the one is as natural as the other. Letus, on the other hand, when we rejoice together, throw open ourwindows, that we may behold the swarming, starving multitudes whostream past our doors. Their pinched and ashy faces and hungry eyes,properly considered, will add a flavor to our viands. We will rejoiceto think that if, in this ill-governed universe, all cannot be blest,we at least rise above the universal wretchedness and are reservedfor happiness.
"Rejoice, therefore, my children, in your wealth, in your health, inyour strength, in your bodies, and in your loves. Ye are the flowerand perfection of mankind. Let no plea shorten, by one instant, yourpleasures. Death is the end of all things--of consciousness; ofsensation; of happiness. Immortality is the dream of dotards. When yecan no longer enjoy, make ready for the grave; for the end of Love isdeath.
"And what is Love? Love is the drawing together of two beings, inthat nature-enforced affinity and commingling, when out of the veryimpact and identity of two spirits, life, triumphant life, springsinto the universe.
"What a powerful impulse is this Love? It is nature-wide. The rushingtogether of the chemical elements; the attraction of suns andplanets--all are Love. See how even the plant casts its pollen abroadon the winds, that it may somewhere reach and rest upon the lovingbosom of a sister-flower; and there, amid perfume and sweetness andthe breath of zephyrs, the great mystery of life is re-enacted. Theplant is without intellect, but it is sensible to Love.
"And who shall doubt, when he contemplates the complicated mechanismby which, everywhere, this God-Nature--blind as to pain and sin anddeath, but tender and solicitous as to birth and life--makes Lovepossible, imperative, soulful, overwhelming, that the purposed endand aim of life is Love. And how pitiful and barren seem to us thelives of the superstitious and ascetic hermits of the ancient world,who fled to desert places, to escape from Love, and believed thatthey were overcoming the foul fiend by prayers and fastings andscourgings. But outraged Nature, mighty amid the ruins of theirblasted hearts, reasserted herself, and
visited them even in dreams;and the white arms and loving lips of woman overwhelmed them with hotand passionate caresses, in visions against which they strove in vain.
"Oh, my brethren, every nerve, fiber, muscle, and 'petty artery ofthe body,' participates in Love. Love is the conqueror of death,because Love alone perpetuates life. Love is life! Love is religion!Love is the universe! Love is God!" And with this climax he sat downamid great applause, as in a theater.
I need scarcely say to you, my dear Heinrich, that I was absolutelyshocked by this sermon. Knowing, as you do, the kind and pure andgentle doctrines taught in the little church in our mountain home,where love means charity for man and worship of God, you may imaginehow my blood boiled at this cruel, carnal and heartless harangue. Theglowing and picturesque words which he poured out were simply acarpet of flowers
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