“But how are we to find truth? How are we to become elevated into that region of light in which the mind sees clearly?”
“We must learn the way, before we can go from one place to another.”
“Yes.”
“If we would find truth, we must first learn the way, or the doctrine of truth; for doctrine, or that which illustrates the mind, is like a natural path or way, along which we walk to the object we desire to reach.”
“Still, I do not find the answer to my question. What or where is truth?”
“It often happens that we expect a very different reply to the query we make, from the one which in the end is received—an answer in no way flattering to self-love, or in harmony with our life-purpose. And when I answer you in the words of Him who, spake as never man spoke—’I am the way, the truth, and the life,’ I cannot expect my words to meet your state of earnest expectation—to be really light to your mind.”
“No, they are not light—at least, not clear light,” said Mr. Markland, in rather a disappointed tone. “If I understand the drift of what you have said, it is that the world has no truth but what stands in some relation to God, who is the source of all truth.”
“Just my meaning,” replied Mr. Allison.
A pause of some moments followed.
“Then it comes to this,” said Mr. Markland, “that only through a religious life can a man hope to arrive at truth.”
“Only through a life in just order,” was the reply.
“What is a life in just order?”
“A life in harmony with the end of our creation.”
“Ah! what a volume of meaning, hidden as well as apparent, does your answer involve! How sadly out of order is the world! how little in harmony with itself! To this every man’s history is a living attestation.”
“If in the individual man we find perverted order, it cannot, of course, be different with the aggregated man.”
“No.”
“The out of order means, simply, an action or force in the moral and mental machinery of the world, in a direction opposite to the right movement.”
“Yes; that is clear.”
“The right movement God gave to the mind of man at the beginning, when he made him in the likeness and image of himself.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“To be in the image and likeness of God, is, of course, to have qualities like him.”
“Yes.”
“Love is the essential principle of God—and love seeks the good of another, not its own good. It is, therefore, the nature of God to bless others out of himself; and that he might do this, he created man. Of course, only while man continued in true order could he be happy. The moment he obliterated the likeness and image of his Creator—that is, learned to love himself more than his neighbour—that moment true order was perverted: then he became unhappy. To learn truth is to learn the way of return to true order. And we are not left in any doubt in regard to this truth. It has been written for us on Tables of Stone, by the finger of God himself.”
“In the Ten Commandments?”
“Yes. In them we find the sum of all religion. They make the highway along which man may return, without danger of erring, to the order and happiness that were lost far back in the ages now but dimly seen in retrospective vision. No lion is found in this way, nor any ravenous beast; but the redeemed of the Lord may walk there, and return with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads.”
“It will be in vain, then, for man to hope for any real good in this life, except he keep the commandments,” said Mr. Markland.
“All in vain,” was answered. “And his keeping of them must involve something more than a mere literal obedience. He must be in that interior love of what they teach, which makes obedience to the letter spontaneous, and not constrained. The outward act must be the simple effect of a living cause.”
“Ah, my friend!” sighed Mr. Markland. “It may be a true saying, but who can hear it?”
“We have wandered far in the wrong direction—are still moving with a swift velocity that cannot be checked without painfully jarring the whole machinery of life; but all this progress is toward misery, not happiness, and, as wise men, it behooves us stop, at no matter what cost of present pain, and begin retracing the steps that have led only to discontent and disappointment. It is all in vain that we fondly imagine that the good we seek lies only a little way in advance—that the Elysian fields will, in the end, be reached. If we are descending instead of ascending, how are we ever to gain the mountain top? If we turn our backs upon the Holy City, and move on with rapid footsteps, is there any hope that we shall ever pass through its gates of pearl or walk its golden streets? To the selfish natural mind, it is a ‘hard saying’ as you intimate, for obedience to the commandments requires the denial and rejection of self; and such a rejection seems like an extinguishment of the very life. But, if we reject this old, vain life, a new vitality, born of higher and more enduring principles, will at once begin. Remember that we are spiritually organized forms, receptive of life. If the life of selfish and perverted ends becomes inactive, a new, better, and truer life will begin. We must live; for life, inextinguishable life, is the inheritance received from the Creator, who is life eternal in himself. It is with us to determine the quality of life. Live we must, and forever—whether in order or disorder, happiness or misery, is left to our own decision.”
“How the thought, as thus presented,” said Mr. Markland, very soberly—almost sadly, “thrills me to the very centre of my being! Ah! my excellent friend, what vast interests does this living involve!”
“Vast to each one of us.”
“I do not wonder,” added Mr. Markland, “that the old hermits and anchorites, oppressed, so to speak, by the greatness of immortal interests over those involved in natural life, separated themselves from the world, that, freed from its allurements, they might lead the life of heaven.”
“Their mistake,” said Mr. Allison, “was quite as fatal as the mistake of the worldling. Both missed the road to heaven.”
“Both?” Mr. Markland looked surprised.
“Yes; for the road to heaven lies through the very centre of the world, and those who seek bypaths will find their termination at an immense distance from the point they had hoped to gain. It is by neighbourly love that we attain to a higher and diviner love. Can this love be born in us, if, instead of living in and for the world’s good, we separate ourselves from our kind, and pass the years in fruitless meditation or selfish idleness? No. The active bad man is often more useful to the world than the naturally good or harmless man who is a mere drone. Only the brave soldier receives the laurels of his country’s gratitude; the skulking coward is execrated by all.”
The only response on the part of Markland was a deep sigh. He saw the truth that would make him free, but did not feel within himself a power sufficient to break the cords that bound him. The two men walked on in silence, until they came near a lovely retreat, half obscured by encircling trees, the scene of Fanny’s recent and impassioned interview with Mr. Lyon. The thoughts of Mr. Allison at once reverted to his own meeting with Fanny in the same place, and the disturbed condition of mind in which he found her. The image of Mr. Lyon also presented itself. As the two men paused, at a point where the fountain and some of the fine statues were visible, Mr. Allison said, with an abruptness that gave the pulse of his companion a sudden acceleration—
“Did your English friend, Mr. Lyon, really go South, before you left New York?”
“He did. But why do you make the inquiry?” Mr. Markland turned, and fixed his eyes intently upon the old man’s face.
“I was sure that I met him a day or two ago. But I was mistaken, as a man cannot be in two places at once.”