“The old man puzzles me sadly at times,” said Lady Mabel; “and he has at hand many a text to sustain his dogmas.”

“It is a pity,” said L’Isle, “that he will not bear in mind those that bid us ‘Judge not that ye be not judged;’ ’Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall; ’Unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall much be required;’ and many others of the same tenor.”

“Pray go on,” said Lady Mabel, “and provide me with a refutation of Moodie’s theology of destiny:  not that I hope to silence him, for controversy is to him the breath of life.”

Now L’Isle had acquired many things laboriously, but he had gotten his training in divinity somewhat incidentally, and hesitated, as well he might, to undertake the task imposed.  But spurred on by the deference she showed to his opinions, he eagerly sought to satisfy, yet not mislead her.  “Moodie is the type of a class,” he said, “who are the most wilful men in the world, yet are even inculcating that man has no will of his own, but is the play thing of fate.  Fatalism, indeed, is no modern invention, being as old as humanity itself, perhaps, older.  We find it as strongly inculcated by the Greek tragic poet, as by the modern Calvinist.  But the peculiar colors in which we see it dressed, are derived from the revolt of men’s minds against the Romish doctrine as to good works.  Among these, penance, fasting, alms, pilgrimages, bounty to the church and its servants, come first.  This leads to the keeping of a debt and credit account with heaven; and to the saints is attributed the power of buying up a stock of works of supererogation, by which they acquire a mediatory power in themselves.  Human reason has been likened to a drunken clown, who if you help him up on one side of his horse, falls over on the other.  To deter men from the presumptuous sin of attributing merit to their actions, the reformers, and also individuals and even orders in the church, have labored to prove that man acts only in obedience to preordained decree, and can of himself do nothing good; yet their logic charges him freely with the guilt of sinning by necessity.  I cannot for the life of me distinguish between fatalism and predestination.  Either binds us with the same chain of necessity, in thought, word and deed, from the cradle to the grave.  To escape this charge, fanaticism can only add a few links to the chain of necessitating cause, and tell you it is necessity no longer.  Now, our most perfect conception of sin is found in a will which sets itself in opposition to God’s will.  This is the characteristic of the father of evil and his fallen hosts.  Our highest idea of virtue is found in the creature’s conforming his will to that of his Maker; this is the trait of the angels who were steadfast in their faith.  How can you here couple fatality and will?  If ours be a state of probation, it is only by a certain freedom of action, an originating power of causation in ourselves, that we can conceive of our being put