CHAPTER IX.
MENTAL PROSTRATION.
Mr. Carlton, minister of the church to which the family of Mr. Townsend belonged, learned, through the newspapers, on the next day, the deep affliction that had been sustained; and, prompted by a sense of duty, repaired immediately to the house of mourning. He found the merchant alone, pacing the floor of the darkened parlor.
“My dear sir,” he said, as he took the hand of the wretched man, “I need not say how deeply I sympathize with you in this melancholy bereavement, the fact of which I learned but half an hour ago. To lose so good a son, in the first ripe years of manhood, is, indeed, an affliction, and one for which there seems, at first, no solace.”
“There is none, Mr. Carlton,” returned the father, with something stern and indignant in the tone of his voice.
“Say not so, Mr. Townsend,” replied the minister. “There is a balm for every wound—a solace for every affliction. He who sends sorrow, will surely send the power to bear it, and enable the sufferer, like the bee, to extract honey even from a noxious plant. All that we are made to endure here, is for our good.”
“So it is said, but I cannot believe it, Mr. Carlton. Is it good for me to lose my son? Is it good that the very hope and pride of my family should be stricken down, like a young and goodly tree, by the lightning of heaven? No, it is not good!”
“God, in his very essence, is goodness, Mr. Townsend. His very nature, as well as his name, is love. Too wise to err, too good to be unkind, every event that takes place under his Divine appointment or permission, must, in some way, regard man’s highest and best interest—in other words, his eternal interest.”
“But what has the death of my son to do with my eternal interest?” asked the merchant. “I must own that I see no connection between the two things whatever.”
“The connection between acts and events in time, Mr. Townsend, and effects which are spiritual, can rarely, if ever, be traced in the present; but, notwithstanding this, nothing is truer than that whatever occurs in a man’s life, whether it be a prosperous or adverse event, a joyous or afflictive dispensation, is permitted or ordained for his good—not his natural, but his spiritual good.”
“It may be, but I cannot understand it,” said Mr. Townsend, sadly.
“Reflect, but for a moment,” urged the minister, “and I am sure it will be plain to your mind. We are spiritually organized beings, the creatures of a wise, good, and eternal God, who has stamped upon our souls the impress of immortality. We are not made for time, but for eternity; and, therefore, time to us and all that appertains to it, must refer to and involve what is eternal. The great error of our lives is, a resting in the things of time and sense as real and substantial things, and to be most desired, when they are only intended to be the means of our spiritual purification and elevation. To so rest is to look down at the things that are beneath, and which will perish in a little while, instead of looking upward at those substantial things which endure forever. Now, from the very nature of our Heavenly Father, he must ever be seeking to lift our minds above these natural and unsubstantial affections, into the love of such things as are eternal; and in order to do this, he finds it often necessary to break our natural loves, as with a hammer of iron, lest they become so selfish and inordinate as to extinguish all love for what is good and true, and thus render us unfitted for the pure, unselfish joys of heaven. It is far better for us, Mr. Townsend, to suffer the destruction of our natural hopes, and the blighting of our natural affections, if by these means eternal hopes are rekindled in our minds, and the love of things spiritual and eternal formed in our hearts.”
To this, Mr. Townsend was silent. Only to a limited extent did he feel it to be true, and as far as he saw it did his heart rebel against it. He had no affection for any thing beyond this world, and the crossing and crushing of these affections, he felt to be the greatest calamity he could suffer. The things of this world were good enough for him, and he was content to enjoy them forever, if the boon could only be granted; any interference with this enjoyment he could not but feel as uncalled for and arbitrary.
This was his state of mind, which had changed, at least, in one important feature during the lapse of two years. There was a time, when, in the pride of success and conscious power, he had fully believed, with the fool, as well as said in his heart, “There is no God.” But, he had realized, by painful and disheartening experiences, that there was an invisible and all-potent Being, who governed in the affairs of men, and determined the course of events at will. Against such interference, as he impiously felt it to be, his heart arose, angry and rebellious.
Mr. Carlton, who remembered the conversation held with the merchant two years previously, saw precisely the change that had taken place. He was aware that Mr. Townsend had met with a number of heavy losses in business, and these, with the distressing bereavement now sustained, fully explained the cause of his altered state. He had hope, notwithstanding the present aspect of his thoughts and feelings, that, in the end, light would break in upon the darkness of his mind, and peace reign where all was now agitation.
The minister’s interview with the other members of the family, except Eunice, was little more satisfactory than that held with Mr. Townsend. Time enough had not elapsed for the stricken heart of the mother to react under the dreadful blow. To all Mr. Carlton’s words of consolation, tears were her only response. And it was just the same with Eveline. But Eunice seemed to forget her own pain of mind in the sympathetic concern she felt for her mother and father, and in her efforts to dry up their tears, her own ceased to flow. Thus it is, that in attempting to sustain others in affliction, our own hearts are comforted. Love is doubly blessed.
“They are passing through deep waters,” said Mr. Carlton to himself, thoughtfully, as he pursued his way homeward, “but they will not be overwhelmed. They are in the fire of affliction, but the Refiner and Purifier sits by, and not an atom of what is good and true in them shall be consumed. It is painful now, but I trust that I shall yet see them come forth with rejoicing.”
For some weeks Mr. Townsend had no heart to enter into any of the details of his business, nor to look at what was passing around him in the business world. He experienced a mental prostration that approached almost to paralysis. And it was the same with his wife, who, since the news of her son’s death, had not left her chamber, nor spoken a cheerful word.
But, only for a short time longer, did this continue. Then there came another blow, sudden and appalling, that struck them down to the very earth.