She drew back a step or two and regarded him anxiously, nay,
pleadingly, as though he held the key to the Temple of Truth, and
would not suffer her to pass the portal. A sarcastic smile lighted
his Apollo-like face, as he answered: "There is more truth in your metaphor than you imagined; a la
Parrhasius, I do see you, a tortured Prometheus, chained by links of
your own forging to the Caucasus of Atheism. But listen to--"
"No, no; not that! not Atheism! God save me from that deepest,
blackest gulf!" She shuddered, and covered her face with her hands.
"Beulah, you alone must settle these questions with your own soul;
my solutions would not satisfy you. For thousands of years they have
been propounded, and yet no answer comes down on the 'cloudy wings
of centuries.' Each must solve to suit his or her peculiar
conformation of mind. My child, if I could aid you I would gladly do
so; but I am no Swedenborg, to whom the arcana of the universe have
been revealed."
"Still, after a fashion, you have solved these problems. May I not
know what your faith is?" said she earnestly.
"Child, I have no faith! I know that I exist; that a beautiful
universe surrounds me, and I am conscious of a multitude of
conflicting emotions; but, like Launcelot Smith, I doubt whether I
am 'to pick and choose myself out of myself.' Further than this I
would assure you of nothing. I stand on the everlasting basis of all
skepticism, 'There is no criterion of truth! All must be but
subjectively, relatively true.'"
"Sir, this may be so as regards psychological abstractions; but can
you be contented with this utter negation of the grand problems of
ontology?"
"A profound philosophic writer of the age intimates that the various
psychological systems which have so long vexed the world are but
veiled ontologic speculations. What matters the machinery of ideas,
but as enabling philosophy to cope successfully with ontology?
Philosophy is a huge wheel which has been revolving for ages; early
metaphysicians hung their finely spun webs on its spokes, and
metaphysicians of the nineteenth century gaze upon and renew the
same pretty theories as the wheel revolves. The history of
philosophy shows but a reproduction of old systems and methods of
inquiry. Beulah, no mine of ontologic truth has been discovered.
Conscious of this, our seers tell us there is nothing now but
'eclecticism'! Ontology is old as human nature, yet the stone of
Sisyphus continues to roll back upon the laboring few who strive to
impel it upward. Oh, child, do you not see how matters stand? Why,
how can the finite soul cope with Infinite Being? This is one form--
the other, if we can take cognizance of the Eternal and Self-
existing Being, underlying all phenomena, why, then, we are part and
parcel of that Infinity. Pantheism or utter skepticism--there is no
retreat."