Page 25 - Unlikely Stories 5

In the Back Streets of London

“It may be observed in general that the future is purchased by the
present. It is not possible to secure distant or permanent happiness
but by the forbearance of some immediate gratification. This is so
evidently true with regard to the whole of our existence that all
precepts of theology have no other tendency than to enforce a life of
faith; a life regulated not by our senses but by our belief; a life in
which pleasures are to be refused for fear of invisible punishments,
and calamities sometimes to be sought, and always endured, in hope
of rewards that shall be obtained in another state.”
“If you have so abnegated the desires of the flesh, and those of
vanity and ambition, as well,” said the man, “yet at the same time
endure a painful existence for which you expect no special treatment
in this world or the next, what is it, Sir, which keeps you going? How
can you endure it?”
“Philosophy may infuse stubbornness, but Religion only can give
patience. Reason has no authority over us, but by its power to warn
us against evil.”
“But have you no fear of death?” Our host’s exasperation was
obvious. “Would you not forestall it should the means be presented,
given the uncertainty you profess about its sequelae?”
“Sir, I should not think the better of a man who should tell me on
his death-bed he was sure of salvation. A man cannot be sure himself
that he has divine intimation of acceptance; much less can he make
others sure that he has it. Some people are not afraid, because they
look upon salvation as the effect of an absolute decree, and think
they feel in themselves the marks of sanctification. Others, and those
the most rational in my opinion, look upon salvation as conditional;
and as they never can be sure they have complied with the
conditions, they are afraid.”
“And that fear, in your case, has become simply another adversity
you manage to keep at bay, Doctor. I can see no purpose in
continuing this interview.”
Johnson merely smiled. But I felt he had been belittled by a man
whose hospitality we had accepted graciously. “I am afraid,” said I,
rising, “that in the pleasure of this conversation we are neglecting
business of importance which awaits us elsewhere. Good evening,
Sir.”
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