“Both species were not created for the same end. God requires not virtue of the brute creation. Were they endowed with reason, with liberty of choice as regards their food and lodgment, the equilibrium of the world would be destroyed. The will of the Creator decided that the surface of the globe, and even its depths, should be filled with animated beings—that life should pervade the universe; in pursuance of which, plains, valleys, forests, from the mountain top to the lowest chasms—trees, rocks, rivers, lakes, oceans, from the sandy desert to the marshy swamp—in all climates and latitudes—from one pole to the other—all is peopled—all instinct with life, all blended in one vast sphere of existence. Whether sheltered in the depths of the wilderness, or behind a blade of grass, the lion and the pismire are alike at the post assigned them by nature. Each has his part to play, his place to guard, his predestined line of action; each is enchained within his proper bound; for every square of the infinite chess-board was from the first appropriately filled. Man alone is free to range over all, to traverse oceans and deserts; pitch his tent on the sand, or construct a floating palace on the waters; to defy the Alpine snows or the fervours of the torrid zone—
“‘The world is all before him, where to choose
His place of rest, and Providence his guide!’”
“But if Providence indeed exert such influence, from whence the crimes arising in all human communities, and the disasters which overwhelm mankind?” cried Charney. “I sympathize in your admiration of all created things; my reason is overwhelmed when I examine the mighty whole, but on descending to the history of the human species——”
“My friend,” interrupted Girardi, “arraign not the wisdom of the Almighty because of the errors of mankind, the devastations of a hurricane, or the eruptions of a volcano! Immutable laws are imprinted upon matter; and the work of ages is accomplished, whether a vessel founder in a storm, or a city disappear beneath the surface of the earth. Of what account in the sight of the Almighty a few human existences more or less? Does the Supreme Being believe in the reality of death, the darkness of the grave?
“No! But He has conferred on our souls the power of self-government, and this is proved by the independence of our passions. I have portrayed animals submitted to the irresistible influence of instinct—possessing only blind tendencies, and the qualities inherent in their several species. Man alone is the parent of his virtues and his vices; man alone is endowed with free agency; because for him this earth is a place of probation. The tree of good and evil which we cultivate here, is to bear its fruits in a higher or a lower region. Do you imagine the omniscient God so unjust as to leave the afflictions of the virtuous unrewarded? Were this world the limit of our reward and punishment, the man who dies by a stroke of lightning ought to be accounted a malefactor, and the fortune of the prosperous should suffice as a certification of excellence!”
Charney listened in silence: impressed by the simple eloquence of his instructor, his eyes were fixed upon the noble countenance on which the excitement of a mind innately pious was imprinting an almost august character of inspiration.
“But why,” at length murmured the Count, “why has not God vouchsafed us the positive certainty of our immortality?”
“Doubt was perhaps indispensable,” replied the venerable man, rising and placing his hand affectionately on the shoulder of his youthful companion, “to repress the vanity of human reason. What is the merit of virtue, if its rewards be assured beforehand? What would become of free will? The soul of man is expansive, but not infinite—vast in its power of apprehending its own distinctions, and of appreciating the Creator by the mightiness of his works; yet so limited as to render it profoundly sensible of its dependence upon Providence. Man is permitted a glimpse of his destinies—Faith must effect the rest.
“Oh! mighty and all-seeing God!” cried Girardi, suddenly interrupting himself, and clasping his hands in all the fervour of supplication, “lend me the strength of thine arm to upraise from the dust this man who is struggling with his human weakness and the desire to reach thy fountains of light! Lend me thy wisdom to direct the aspirations of this longing and bewildered soul! Lend eloquence to the words of my lips, that they may be endued with the strength and power of the faith that is in me! The humblest of thy creations—a flower, and an insect—have startled the sceptic in his self-security; give grace to these, O Lord! if not to me, to perfect the work thine infinite mercy has begun; and if not by me, by the humble plant before us, be the miracle of thy holiness accomplished!”