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CONSCIENCE versus THE QUARTERLY.
A PLEA FOR FAIR PLAT
TOWARDS
THE WRITERS OF THE
ESSAYS AND REVIEWS.
BY
THE REV. HARRY JONES,
INCUMBENT OP ST. LUKE’S, BERWICK STREET, ST. JAMES’S, WESTMINSTER.
LONDON:
ROBERT HARDWICKE, 192, PICCADILLY.
1861.
��CONSCIENCE versus THE QUARTERLY,
<5*C.
“ There is, in truth, in the volume,” says the
Quarterly Reviewer, “ nothing which is really new,
and little which, having been said before, is said
here with any new power, or with any great addi
tion, either by way of amplification, illustration, or
research.”
To what, then, may we attribute the deep interest
with which the “ Essays and Reviews ” are read ?
“ Not certainly, we think,” replies the Quarterly
Reviewer, “ to its subject.”
Surely, however, we may ask how any subject
which has already so occupied the human mind as
to present nothing new, can cease to be interesting?
The Reviewer does not admit this question; he
attributes the notoriety of the book to its author
ship. But though its subject has inherent, unfading
attraction, the Reviewer himself has helped much
to create the notoriety of this particular volume,
and must be held accessory to whatever mischief
it makes. He believes that he has discovered a
�4
deadly spring; and having neither authority to
close it up, nor power secretly to drain it dry, what
does he ?—pass it by in silence, lest the host he
leads should drink and die ? No such thing—he
points it out, and then gives a mouthful to every
follower, crying, “ This is fatal—taste it!”
The result is that crowds are dosed: Messrs. Long
man, who built the well, run to their structure and
multiply its powers of delivery, as the demand for the
mixture increases. “ What is it like ?” exclaim the
fresh comers to those who have got a whole bottle
ful in the scramble. Others, who cannot wait, are
fed with extracts, choice cupfuls, scooped out of
the darkest, most poisonous-looking jets of the
spring, while some save themselves the risk and
trouble of tasting, and condemn it untried.
Perhaps the most curious, though the most appa
rent, inconsistency in this distribution is that many
distributors accompany their sample with the re
quest for an opinion, but add that those thus in
vited to taste are incapable of giving one, the
“ verifying faculty ” being the most deceptive of
any we possess when applied to the subject handled
in this naughty book.
Let me hope the Reviewer will pardon me, if,
in venturing to give utterance to some of the
thoughts aroused by his vehement provocation, I
err in applying the contradictory advice he thrusts
upon me.
In attempting to follow it, I accept, for the sake
of convenience, the article in the “ Quarterly” as
�5
the impression the “ Essays and Reviews” have
made on a large section of the religious world in
England.
In the first place, it is very important to distin
guish between the principle of the book and the
application which is made of that principle by the
several authors who have contributed to the volume
in which it appears.
The principle itself they all evidently hold, and
must be held accountable for, while each must
answer for his individual use of that faculty the
exercise of which they jointly defend.
What is the one idea influencing their several
minds? “ The idea,” replies the Reviewer (p. 255),
“ of a verifying faculty—the power of each man of
settling what is and what is not true in the inspired
record, is the idea of the whole volume—the con
necting link between all its writers.”
It is this which has given the gravest oflence —
this which disqualifies them from the office of
teachers in the Church of England.
What, however, can be the distinction in principle
between the liberty to judge whether all, or a
portion only of the statements in Scripture are to
be regarded as much actual truths as physical facts
are?
If once a man asks reason and conscience whether
he shall obey the Bible at all, he recognizes the
question, “ what is and what is not true in the
inspired record?” He has put it to himself, and
decided it for himself, even when he concludes that
�6
the whole volume is verbally infallible. As far as
the principle of the Essayists is concerned, they
only confess their desire to be always convinced
in their own minds of the truth of their creed when
acting for themselves, or attempting to guide
others.
Such is the common charge against them. It
looks like a farce, but it is made in bitter earnest.
When the present boiling passions have cooled
down a little, when the flushed executioners begin
to try the offenders they have hanged, the judges
will perhaps find that they have not been alto
gether free from the crime they are now punish
ing ; for, do they mean to say, they do not pretend
to any justification of their own opinions about the
truth of Scripture ? They utter them freely enough
—on what pretext ? If they despise the “ verify
ing faculty,” why have they any opinion at all about
anything divine? If they profess the acceptance
of definite theology, what has induced them to ac
cept it? Do they hold what they term orthodoxy
without thought, examination, or proof ? Have they
never tested their decisions ? By the exercise of
what faculty have they arrived at their present
belief? By the support of what convictions do they
retain their positions and professional stipend ?
What makes them so loudly and frequently repeat
that the views they condemn have been refuted
already, unless they have weighed the value of the
refutation, and so exercised the “ verifying faculty,”
as to what is and what is not true in the inspired
�7
record, themselves ? Nay, even if they believe what
they are told to believe, what induces them to obey?
Have they asked whether the commands laid upon
them are right ? Have they not decided that the
authority to which they submit their thoughts is
such as they ought to bow to ?
I cannot credit the supposition that they are
unable to give a reason of the hope which is in
them—that they have arrived at no conscientious
if not rational conclusions.
Even the man who deliberately surrenders his
conscience to the Romanist director, does so because
he thinks the arguments in favour of this arrange
ment are stronger than those against it.
No wonder, then, that the Reviewer finds it easy
to prove his main charge against the Essayists.
They do claim the power of deciding for them
selves what is and what is not true in the inspired
record, and so does he. The “ verifying faculty” is
the “ connecting link” not only between the seven
writers, but between all who read, mark, learn, and
inwardly digest the Scriptures.
If you teach men to read, and give them the
Bible, they are sure to hear some hostile criticism
upon it. They soon find out that many of its
statements are questioned by learned men. Now,
directly you say “ these doubts are needless—these
objections are wrong,” and proceed to lay your
proofs before the public with an appeal to their
good feeling and good sense, you not only admit
�8
the existence of the “ verifying faculty” in every
man, but claim its support.
The only way to prevent the Bible being freely
handled is to prohibit it. Rome is consistent. She
says the people cannot form a right judgment of'its
contents, and therefore she locks it up. We, on
the contrary, offer the Scriptures to any one who
will read them. And now these readers are told
that it is a grievous sin to weigh the value of the
statements they contain.
Why do such as the Reviewer urge more loudly
than most teachers, that a man is as responsible for
his religious opinions, as for his acts, unless they
think that he is at liberty to' form his opinions
himself? The principle of which the Essayists
are accused is so far from being vicious, that
it is the special characteristic of English thought,
and the living safeguard of spiritual liberty. It
is the one essential which marks the difference
between Popery and Protestantism; for though,
as we have noticed, the principle is so neces
sary to sane existence, that the most Ultramon
tane pervert who delivers himself, body and soul,
to the guidance of the Church of Rome, must ex
ercise it once for all, when he decides to join that
Church; though he then spends his liberty of thought,
his whole spiritual fortune, in one terrible payment,
being content to live thenceforward on such an
allowance of freedom as the keeper of his con
science may think fit to trust him with, yet practically
�9
the distinction between the Papist and the Pro
testant is the liberty of the latter to use this same
“ verifying faculty.” The result of the Religious
Census alone, is a convincing proof of the extent to
which it is used, and may lead us to question the
confidence of the Reviewer as to the verdict of the
English people on the value of the principle the
Essayists uphold.
How far they are justified in remaining ministers
of the Church of England must be left for them to
choose, or legal authorities to decide. But it would
indeed be bad for our national Church if regard for
the principles of the Reformation were held to bar
the entrance to her ministry.
It is the extent to which these principles have
been pushed, the use which these seven writers
have-made of the liberty they share with him, which
has shocked the Reviewer.
Of course no one can wonder at him for doing all
he can to prevent the adoption of their views, when
he thinks them wrong, i. e. when they jar with the
result of his “ verifying faculty.” That may lead
him to conclude (p. 284), that “ the position of six
of these writers is both philosophically and reli
giously pitiable;” which is intelligible if not true,
though we might have expected something less
vague from the advocate of definite theology than
his sentence on the other, who, he says, “ seems
contented to sit down with Spinoza on the frozen
mountains of metaphysical atheism.” Perhaps in
assigning this locality to one of the seven, he anB
�10
I
swers his own question put elsewhere (p. 282),
“ How is it possible to stop when once such a prin
ciple (the verifying faculty) has been admitted ?”
Before we go on to notice some of the points
which the Reviewer conceives he has made against
these gentlemen, we must notice the charge (p. 274),
of immorality which he brings against them ; it
sounds rather libellous to be sure : “ As honest men
and as believers in Christianity, we must pronounce
those views to be absolutely inconsistent with its
creed, and must therefore hold that the attempt of
the Essayists to combine their advocacy of such
doctrines with the retention of the status and
emolument of Church of England clergymen, is
simply moral dishonesty.” It is true that in another
place (p. 288), he drops this papal style, and says,
“ With some of them no doubt, the object before
their own eyes....... is the desire to place Christianity
upon a better footing.”
But this is only an example of the wanton,
cruel way in which he picks up anything rough
and handy to throw at them, and then has an
unwitting qualm of human feeling when he thinks
the missile hits.
Let us take his gentler sen
tence (p. 288), “ They have no intention of aban
doning Christianity,...... their desire is to place
it on a better footing.” If this be true, and
I suppose the Quarterly Reviewer believes it,
why should they quit the ministry of the national
Church ? It would be both foolish and wrong for
them to do so. Foolish, because if they yielded to
�11
the morbid feeling sometimes generated by misre
presentation, and for fear of maintaining stumblingblocks in the way of weak brethren, or from a
cowardly desire for material martyrdom, were to
resign their posts, they would yield the influence
and honour they are beginning to find. Wrong,
because they would, as far as they were concerned,
betray the right of private judgment in the Church
of England. Thousands of her clergy without at
all committing themselves to the conclusions of the
Essayists, look to them as the present champions
of the “ verifying faculty,” which, though it cannot
be destroyed in England, may yet be eclipsed in
her national Church, if those who venture to up
hold it suffer themselves to be talked or worried
out of her ministry.
It may be remarked however, by the way, that
there is much nonsense uttered about the sin of
putting stumbling-blocks in other men’s way. There
is no sin in doing so, if the weak brother be going
wrong. The stumbling-block cannot be too heavy
or high, when it bars the road to intolerance and
slavery,
We will now pass on from the main charge the
Reviewer makes against the Essayists, viz. that of
honouring the “ verifying faculty,” when it is applied
to the subject which is of the deepest interest and
importance possible. Let us see how the Reviewer
tries to convict them of abusing it. We have already
noticed his hatred of the principle, but I cannot
understand how he expects to arrive at a conclusion
�12
without its help. We must forgive his blunders as
we should those of an enraged Quaker who failed
in the bayonet exercise, however fiercely he might
clutch and flourish the forbidden weapon, when his
carnal nature got uppermost.
Of course, among those who apply the verifying
faculty, we must expect to see some overshoot their
neighbours, and perhaps startle them by their bold
ness in handling what others will not touch.
I will, however, take a few passages which ex
hibit the spirit of the Reviewer, avoiding as much
as possible, the most irritating phases of the contro
versy in which he engages. In page 254, he falls
foul of the “ canons” provided by the Essayists, and
begins with “ criticism,” which they say will help
us “ to reduce the strangeness of the past into har
mony with the present.” Does he mean that this
is an unfair assumption ? or does he wish to monopo
lize it himself? Again, when he quotes what he calls
their “pregnant words,”—“ We find the evidences
of our canonical books, and of the patristic authors
nearest them, are not adequate to guarantee narratives
inherently incredible,or precepts evidently wrong,”—
does he mean that they are adequate to guarantee
such narratives or precepts ? Again (p. 256), he
starts at such a supposition as “ the conscience de
ciding for every man upon the truth of doctrine, and
the historical value of facts,” laying down as his
canon, that conscience certainly has no direct con
nection whatever with mere intellect: would he have
the conscientious man devoid of intellect ? or the
�13
intellectual theologian unconscientious ? He naively
adds, “ Many good men are infinitely above their
own theorieslet us give him the shelter of this
admission.
In page 158 he is speaking of inspiration, and
exclaims, “ Here is the great principle of the
Essayists,—Holy Scripture is like any other good
book;” then he quotes Mr. Jowett, “Scripture is to
be read like any other book,”—“ not only,” now the
Reviewer goes on, “ because it embodies the same
errors as other books (sic) but also because it is not
to be held to have meanings deeper, at least in
kind, than they possess.” Now this is most unfair
—there may be no difference in kind, but a mighty
one in result, between various workings of the same
influence, just as in electricity, where the little
spark and snap from the machine in the hands of a
boy, are to be referred to the laws which regulate
.the crash of a thunderstorm, when the lightning
shineth from the one part under heaven to another,
and a nation starts.
A little further (p. 259) he asks, “ Why is
Strauss’s resolution an excess? Where, and by
what authority, short of his extreme view, would
Mr. Wilson himself stop?” By the same authority
which decides the Reviewer to accept what he calls
the established scheme, instead of Mr. Wilson’s
views—viz., the authority of his own “verifying
faculty.”
In page 267 he quotes this apparently harmless
�14
sentence in Mr. Jowett’s essay—It is “most pro
bable that the tradition on which the three first
gospels were based was at first preserved orally, and
slowly put together and written in the three forms
which it assumed at a very early period, those
forms being in some places perhaps modified by
experience;” and then says, “From this origin
he argues, to the utter destruction of all notion of
inspiration (sic) that dissimilarities arose between
them.” These read like the words of one who had
never heard of the distinction between plenary and
verbal inspiration, i.e. between the illumination of
the writers by the Holy Ghost, and the supernatural
dictation of the letters which were traced by their
pens.
As an unfair distortion we may cite this (p. 268):
“Mr. Wilson esteems the Apostle (St. John) as
a man of rather contracted habits of thought,”
whereas Mr. Wilson’s words are, “The horizon
which St. John’s view embraced was much nar
rower than St. Paul’s,”
‘ Qui mores hominum multorum vidit et urbes.’ ”
Later in the same page, after another extract from
his essay, he remarks, “ Little can be added to this,
and yet something is added when Mr. Jowett tells
us that ‘ we cannot readily determine how much of
the words of our Lord, or of St. Paul, is to be attri
buted to oriental modes of speech, for that expres-
�15
sions which would be regarded as rhetorical exaggeration in the Western world, are the natural
vehicles of thought to an Eastern people.’ ”
Now, the Reviewer considers every statement in
Scripture as of equal value, or he does not. If he
does not, he employs his own “ verifying faculty” in
deciding what is and what is not to be accepted in
the inspired record, and so commits the grave crime
of which he accuses the Essayists. If he does con
sider every statement in Scripture as of equal value,
he has no right to affect a distinction between the
words of our Lord and any others which the in
spired writers have recorded.
In apparent forgetfulness of Scripture statements,
however, he accuses Mr. Jowett of his “general
notion ” seeming to be, “ that we are under a pro
gressive revelation.” Why not quarrel with St.
Paul, for saying: “We know in part, and we pro
phesy in part.” “ When I was a child I spake as a
child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child,
but when I became a man I put away childish
things; for now we see through a glass darkly, but
then face to face; now I know in part, but then
shall I know even as also I am known.”
In page 271 the Reviewer speaks of the “ remark
able indifference to all doctrine which is every
where apparent in the writings of Mr. Jowett.
‘ The lessons of Scripture,’ he thinks, ‘ may have a
nearer way to the heart of the poor when disen
gaged from theological formulas.’ ‘ The truths of
Scripture,’ again, ‘ would have greater reality if
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16
divested of the scholastic form in which theology
has cast them. The universal and spiritual aspect
of Scripture might be more brought forward, to the
exclusion of . . . exaggerated statements of
doctrines which seem to be at variance with mo
rality.’”
If this is wrong, we ought to have had no
Reformation.
Many might be excused for not being shocked at
this statement of Mr. Wilson’s (p. 272): “And
when the Christian Church, in all its branches, shall
have fulfilled its sublunary office, and its Founder
shall have surrendered His kingdom to the Great
Father—all, both small and great, shall find a
refuge in the bosom of the Universal Parent, to
repose or be quickened into higher life in the ages
to come, according to His will.”
We think this rather a turgid paraphrase of St.
Paul’s words, “ Then cometh the end, when He
shall have delivered up the Kingdom unto God,
even the Father.” “And when all things shall be
subdued unto Him, then shall the Son also Himself
be subject unto Him that put all things under Him,
that God may be all in all.” But the Reviewer
asks (p. 273) with confident emphasis, as one who
has, to use his own words (p. 274), “ forced up the
prophet’s veil, and shown the foul deformity which
it covers:” “Can the knell of all Christian truth
sound more distinctly {sic) or more mournfully than
this?”
It appears that Mr. Wilson did not speak twenty
�17
years ago as he does now. The Reviewer rum
mages up a letter which he, with three others,
signed in 1841 against Tractarianism. The authors
of that letter protested against too great a liberty in
interpreting the formularies of our Church in favour
of Rome. Well, then, Mr. Wilson was one of the,
first to detect and expose the Popish tendencies of
High Churchmen. We do not see how that is in
consistent with his present essay. But the Reviewer
makes a great point of it, and writes very rudely.
When he anticipates the horror with which this same
gentleman (Mr. Wilson twenty years ago) would
then have read his present essay, could it have been
shown to him, does the Reviewer think that any
change of opinion is wrong ? that none are to be
converted ? that no one, from St. Paul downwards,
can be acquitted of immorality if he contradicts any
of his former statements, or even reverses the deli
berate decisions of his early life ?
It is curious to notice how the Reviewer recurs
to his main charge against the Essayist’s belief in
the “ verifying faculty,” even when he professes
to be examining details. “ Why,” he exclaims
(p. 282), “ should not the ‘ verifying faculty’ of
Voltaire, or Thomas Paine, be as good an authority
as the same faculty when exercised by Rowland
Williams?”
The Reviewer misses the point of the question
here. Your verifying faculty is no guide to me:
I am not responsible for such opinions as you have
arrived at yourself. The Reviewer, however, seems
c
�18
to think the verifying faculty to be like a telescope
which may be handed about; whereas it may rather
be illustrated by eyesight, which every one is
expected to use for himself. I may exercise a
privilege, and yet regret its abuse in some cases;
just as a man who takes the liberty of warming
himself at a fire, may be sorry to see his neighbour’s
house burnt down because he overheats his flue.
As a specimen of inconsistency, however, take the
following, and, remember, it comes from a man
who, above all things, protests against the exercise
of the verifying faculty when applied to the sub
jects treated of in the inspired record:
“ If” (p. 286) “ it can be shown to the young be
liever that the system offered to him in the Essays,
full as it is of appeals to the pride of his reason,
which tend to captivate his mind, must by logical
necessity end in atheism, he is bound, as he values
his salvation, not to listen to the syren’s voice.”
In page 288, we have another example of the
Reviewer’s self-contradictory style ; he speaks of
“their new form of Christianity,” and then, lower
down, he says, “ The path on which they have en
tered is no new one.” Which does he mean ? One
cannot help thinking that, since in his opinion
(same page), “ All unbelievers of all classes, and all
believers of all shades, see plainly enough that the
Essayists are simply deceiving themselves,” he might
have spared himself the “ distasteful task ” of ex
posing their mistakes to the public.
Let us notice, however, the way in which he tries
�19
to do this, in treating of the supposed discrepancies
between revelation and the science of astronomy.
He asks (p. 292), “ Is the fulness and reality of re
velation one whit shaken because the standing still
of the light-giving luminary upon Gibeon was ac
complished by the God to whom his servant cried,
by any of the thousand other modes by which His
mighty power could have accomplished it, rather
than by the actual suspension of the unbroken career
of the motion of the heavenly bodies in their ap
pointed courses ? ”
Now, he believes, either that the sun stood still,
in the common acceptation of the phrase, or that
it did not; but how the light-giving luminary (sic)
could have stood still, without the “ career of the
motion of the heavenly bodies” being broken, he
does hot pretend to say.
The Reviewer is withering when he comes to
miracles. While dipping his pen in a pleasant pause
of consciousness at having already blackened the
Essayists, he hastens to transfer this sentence of
triumphant severity to his paper, “There is”
(p. 299) “ but one other argument in favour of their
system with which we need trouble our readers. It
is that which continually re-appears throughout the
volume, the impossibility of believing in a miracle.”
Let us see how he removes it. First, in reply to
theoretical objections, he says, “ Supposing (p. 300)
that, for the purpose of preventing man’s falling
under the power of outward things, occasional or
periodic suspensions of what seems the iron-law of
�20
order, were a part of the plan on which the universe
were governed, who shall dare to say that there is
in such a marvellous arrangement any disparagement
of the wisdom, power, or love of Him who laid the
foundations of the earth, and it abideth?” “It abideth
not'' we should have expected, if the Reviewer’s
notion of a miracle were true. The believer in
miracles might well wish for a better champion.
But how does he reply to objections made on the
ground of experience ? “ Once grant (p. 300) that
there was at any epoch whatever of this series of
causes and effects a Creator and a creation . . . .
fix the beginning of the series where you please, the
existence of that on which we trace the law of order
stamped is itself the greatest of all miracles.”
Very well; but how does he go on ? “ He who
then interfered may interfere at any other point in
the series, and, before we can pronounce that He
has not, and will not do so, we must be able to com
prehend all His ways, and to fathom all the secret
purposes of His all-wise but often most mysterious
will.” Thus he invites the return blow, which is
made by leaving out the “ nots,” “ Before we can
pronounce that He has and will do so, we must be
able to comprehend all His ways, and to fathom all
the secret purposes of His all-wise but often most
mysterious will.” Now, as evidently neither the
Reviewer nor his imaginary antagonist can do that,
they are left, thanks to the Reviewer, just where
they began. However, he jauntily concludes, “We
see, then,-nothing contrary to right reason in ad-
�21
mitting the alleged fact of any actual miracle upon
such evidence as would be sufficient to establish
beyond doubt any other alleged fact.” In short,
that there is no more difficulty in believing that
the ass spoke to Balaam, than that Balaam spoke to
the ass.
Heaven defend us from being guided by the
Reviewer’s verifying faculty, which, in defiance of
his own anathema, he applies with blundering
ignorance of true faith, to the facts and statements
of the Bible. Such as he are the real provokers of
infidelity and atheism.
There are passages in his article (p. 283) in which
he “ handles freely ” the words and character of the
Son of God. I will not follow him there. Let us
hope that those who read his Article will not be
hindered in believing that, after all, love toward
our Lord Jesus Christ, as we see him in the
Gospels, is the essence of Christianity. A growing
number of us will, I trust, as time goes on, feel
that we owe the possession of an open Bible itself
in the Church of England to the Divine im
plantation of our right to the exercise of the
verifying faculty in English hearts; and while
we protest against committing ourselves to the
opinions, however honest, of any individual clergy
man, yet see the greatest danger to our spiritual
liberty in attempts to drive those whom we do
not agree with, but who profess no hostility to the
Church of England, out of that body, which is
��
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Conscience versus The Quarterly: a plea for fair play towards the writers of essays and reviews
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Jones, Harry [Rev.]
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 22 p. ; 21 cm.
Notes: Inscription on front flyleaf of bound volume: Presented by Miss Morris. November 1904.
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Robert Hardwicke
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1861
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G3386
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Religion
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Religion
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CREEDS
AND
SPIRITUALITY
ROBERT C. INGERSOLL.
---------------- 4----------------
Price One Penny.
/
LONDON :
PROGRESSIVE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
28’ Stonecutter Street, E.O.
1891.
*.
»>
�CREEDS.
(From the “ New York Morning Advertiser.”)
[Whateveb may be said of his belief in revealed religion,
Robert G. Ingersoll is respected by all intellectual antagonists
for thorough sincerity, absolute fairness in debate, and un
questionable ability in ti.e presentation of his argument.
His views, therefore, on the recent attitude of the general
assembly at Detroit in the case of Dr. Briggs, the alleged
heretical utterances of the Rev. Heber Newton, and the
desertion of one creed for another by the Rev. Dr. Bridgman,
are of peculiar interest just at this time. Colonel Ingersoll
has just returned from a trip through the west, and in speaking
of these incidents, he said :—]
There is a natural desire on the part of every intelli
gent human being to harmonise his information—to
make his theories agree—in other words, to make what
he knows, or thinks he knows, in one department
agree with, and harmonise with, what he knows, or
thinks he knows, in every other department of human
knowledge.
The human race has not advanced in line, neither
has it advanced in all departments with the same
rapidity. It is with the race as it is with an individual.
A man may turn his entire attention to some one
subject—as, for instance, to geology—and neglect other
sciences. He may be a good geologist, but an exceed
ingly poor astronomer ; or he may know nothing of
politics or of political economy. So he may be a
successful statesman and know nothing of theology.
But if a man, successful in one direction, takes up
some other question, he is bound to use the knowledge
he has on one subject as a kind of standard to measure
what he is told on some other subject. If he is a
chemist, it will be natural for him, when studying
some other question, to use what he knows in chemistry ;
that is to say, he will expect to find cause, and every
where succession and resemblance. He will say : It
�( 3 )
must be in all other sciences as in chemistry—there
must be no chance. The elements have no caprice.
Iron is always the same. Gold does not change.
Prussic acid is always poison—it has no freaks. So he
will reason as to all facts in nature. He will be a
believer in the atomic integrity of all matter, in the
persistence of gravitation. Being so trained, and so
convinced, his tendency will be to weigh what is
called new information in the same scales that he has
been using.
Now for the application of this. Progress in reli
gion is the slowest, because man is kept back by
sentimentality, by the efforts of parents, by old asso
ciations. A thousand unseen tendrils are twining
about him that he must necessarily break if he
advances. In other departments of knowledge induce
ments are held out and rewards are promised to the
one who does succeed—to the one who really does
advance—to the man who discovers new facts. But in
religion, instead of rewards being promised, threats are
made. The man is told that he must not advance ;
that if he takes a step forward it is at the peril of his
soul; that if he thinks and investigates, he is in danger
of exciting the wrath of God. Consequently religion
has been of the slowest growth. Now, in most depart
ments of knowledge man has advanced ; and coming
back to the original statement—a desire to harmonise
all that we know—there is a growing desire on the
part of intelligent men to have a religion fit to keep
company with the other sciences.
THE MAKING OF CREEDS.
Our creeds were made in times of ignorance. They
suited very well a flat world, and a God who lived in
the sky just above us, and who used the lightning to
destroy his enemies. This God was regarded much as
a savage regarded the head of his tribe—as one having
the right to reward and punish. And this God, being
much greater than a chief of the tribe, could give
greater rewards and inflict greater punishments. They
knew that the ordinary chief, or the ordinary king,
punished the slightest offences with death. They also
knew that these chiefs and kings tortured their victims
�( 4 )
as long as the victims could bear the torture. So when
they described their God, they gave to this God power
to keep the tortured victim alive for ever, because they
knew that the earthly chief, or the earthly king, would
prolong the life of the tortured for the sake of increas
ing the agonies of the victim. In those savage days
they regarded punishment as the only means of pro
tecting society. In consequence of this they built
heaven and hell on an earthly plan, and they put God
—that is to say, the chief, that is to say, the king—on
a throne-like an earthly king.
Of course, these views were all ignorant and
barbaric ; but in that blessed day their geology and
astronomy were on a par with their theology. There
was a harmony in all departments of knowledge, or
rather of ignorance. Since that time there has been a
great advance made in the idea of government—the
old idea being that the right to do came from God to
the king, and from the king to the people. Now
intelligent people believe that the source of authority
has been changed, and that all just powers of govern
ment are derived from the consent of the governed.
So there has been a great advance in the philosophy
of punishment—in the treatment of criminals. So,
too, in all the sciences. The earth is no longer flat;
heaven is not immediately above us ; the universe has
been infinitely enlarged, and we have at last found
that our earth is but a grain of sand, a speck on the
great shores of the infinite. Consequently there is
a discrepancy, a discord, a contradiction between our
theology and the other sciences. Men of intelligence
feel this. Dr. Briggs concluded that a perfectly good
and intelligent God could not have created billions of
sentient beings knowing that they were to be eternally
miserable. No man could do such a thing, had he the
power, without being infinitely malicious. Dr. Briggs
began to have a little hope for the huinan race—began
to think that maybe God is better than the creed
describes him.
And right here it may be well enough to remark
that no man has ever been declared a heretic for think
ing God bad. Heresy has consisted in thinking God
�( 5 )
better than the church said he was. The man who
said God will damn nearly everybody was orthodox.
The man who said God will save everybody was
denounced as a blaspheming wretch, as one who
assailed and maligned the character of God. I can
remember when the Universalists were denounced as
vehemently and maliciously as the Atheists are to-day.
THE CASE OF DR. BRIGGS.
Now, continued Colonel Ingersoll, Dr. Briggs is
undoubtedly an intelligent man. He knows that
nobody on the earth knows who wrote the five books
of Moses. He knows that they were not written until
hundred of years after Moses was dead. He knows
that tw’O or more persons were the authors of Isaiah.
He knows that David did not write to exceed three or
four of the Psalms. He knows that the book of Job is
not a Jewish book. He knows that the songs of
Solomon were not written by Solomon. He knows
that the book of Ecclesiastes was written by a Free
thinker. He also knows that there is not in existence
to-day—so far as anybody knows—any of the manu
scripts of the Old or New Testament.
So about the New Testament, Dr. Briggs knows
that nobody lives who has ever seen an original manu
script, or who ever saw anybody that did see one, or
that claims to have seen one. He knows that nobody
knows who wrote Matthew, or Mark, or Luke, or John.
He knows that John did not write John, and that
gospel was not written until long after John was dead.
He knows that no one knows who wrote the Hebrews.
He also knows that the book of Revelation is an insane
production, Dr. Briggs also knows the way in which
these books came to be canonical, and he knows that
the way was no more binding than a resolution passed
by a political convention.
He also knows that many books were left out that
had for centuries equal authority with those that were
put in. He also knows that many passages—and the
very passages upon which many churches are founded
—are interpolations. He knows that the last chapter
of Mark, beginning with the sixteenth verse to the
end, is an interpolation ; and he also knows that neither
�( 6 )
Matthew, nor Mark, nor Luke, ever said one word
about the necessity of believing on the Lord Jesus
Christ, or of believing anything—not one word about
believing in the Bible or joining the church, or doing
any particular thing in the way of ceremony to ensure
salvation. He knows that, according to Matthew, God
agreed to forgive us when we would forgive others,!
Consequently he knows that there is not one particle
of what is called modern theology in Matthew, Mark,
or Luke. He knows that the trouble commenced in
John, and that John was not written until probably one
hundred and fifty years—possibly two hundred years—
after Christ was dead. So he also knows that the sin
against the Holy Ghost is an interpolation; that “ I
came not to bring peace but a sword,” if not an inter
polation, is an absolute contradiction.
Knowing those things, and knowing, in addition
to what I have stated, that there are 30,000 or 40,000
mistakes in the Old Testament, that there are a great
many contradictions and absurdities, that many of the
laws are cruel and infamous, and could have been
made only by a barbarous people, Dr. Briggs has con-«
eluded that, after all, the torch that sheds the serenest
and divinest light is the human reason, and that we
must investigate the Bible as we do other books. At
least, I suppose he has reached such conclusion. He
may imagine that the pure gold of inspiration still runs
through the quartz and porphyry of ignorance and
mistake, and that all we have to do is to extract the
shining metal by some process that may be called
theological smelting; and if so I have no fault to find.
Dr. Briggs has taken a step in advance—that is to say,
the tree is growing, and when the tree goes the bark
splits ; when the new leaves come the old leaves are
rotting on the ground.
AS TO PRESBYTERIANISM.
The Presbyterian Creed is a very bad creed. It
has been the stumbling block, not only of the head,
but of the heart for many generations. I do not know
that it is, in fact, worse than any other orthodox creed ;
but the bad features are stated with an explicitness
and emphasised with a candor that render the creed
�( 7 )
absolutely appalling. It is amazing to me that any
man ever wrote it, or that any set of men ever produced
it. It is more amazing to me that any human being
thought it wicked not to believe it. It is more amazing
still than all the others combined that any human
being ever wanted it to be true.
#
This creed is a relic of the middle ages. It has m
the malice, the malicious logic, the total depravity, the
utter heartlessness of John Calvin, and it gives me a
great pleasure to say that no Presbyterian was ever as
bad as his creed. And here let me say, as I have said
many times, that I do not hate Presbyterians—because
among them I count some of my best friends but i
hate Presbyterianism. And I cannot illustrate this
any better than by saying, I do not hate a man because
he has the rheumatism, but I hate the rheumatism
because it has a man.
The Presbyterian Church is growing, and is growing
because, as I said at first, there is a universal tendency
in the mind of a man to harmonise all that he knows
or thinks he knows. This growth may be delayed.
The buds of heresy may be kept back by the north
wind of Princeton and by the early frost called Patton.
In spite of these souvenirs of the dark ages the church
must continue to grow. The theologians who regard
theology as something higher than a trade tend toward
Liberalism. Those who regard preaching as a business,
and the inculcation of sentiment as a trade, will stand
by the lowest possible views. They will cling to the
letter and throw away the spirit. They prefer the
dead limb to a new bud or to a new leaf. They, want
no more sap. They delight in the dead tree, in its
unbending nature, and they mistake, the stiffness of
death for the vigor and resistance of life.
.
Now,“ as with Dr. Briggs, so with Dr. Bridgman,
although it seems to me that he has simply jumped
from the frying-pan into the fire ; and why he should,
prefer the Episcopal creed to the Baptist is more than I
can imagine. The Episcopal creed is, in. fact, just as
bad as the Presbyterian. It calmly and .with unruffled
brow utters the sentence of eternal punishment on the
majority of the human race, and the Episcopalian
�(8)
expects to be happy in heaven, with his son or his
daughter or his mother or his wife in hell.
Dr. Bridgman will find himself exactly in the
position of the Rev. Mr. Newton, provided he expresses
his thought. But I account for the Bridgmans and the
Newtons by the fact there is still sympathy in the
human heart, and that there is still intelligence in the
human brain. For my part I am glad to see this
growth in the orthodox churches, and the quicker
they revise their creeds the better. I oppose nothing
that is good in any creed—I attack only that which
is only ignorant, cruel and absurd, and I make the
attack in the interest of human liberty and for the
sake of human happiness.
ORTHODOXY THE MASTER.
What do you think of the action of the Presbyterian
General Assembly at Detroit, and what effect do you
think it will have on the religious growth ?” was
asked.
That. General Assembly was controlled by the ortho
dox within the Church, replied Colonel Inge rsoll,
by the strict constructionists and by the Calvii ists;
by the gentlemen who not only believe the creed, not
only believe that a vast majority of people are going to
hell, but are really glad of it; by gentlemen who, when
they feel a little blue, read about total depravity to
cheer up, and when they think of the mercy of God
as exhibited in their salvation, and the justice of God
as illustrated by the damnation of others, their hearts
burst into a kind of effloresence of joy.
These gentlemen are opposed to all kinds of amuse
ments except reading the Bible, the Confession of
Faith and the Creed and listening to Presbyterian
sermons and prayers. All these things they regard as
the food of cheerfulness. They warn the elect against
theatres and operas, dancing and games of chance.
Well, if their doctrine is true, there ought to be no
theatres, except exhibitions of hell; there ought to be
no operas, except where the music is a succession of
wails for the misfortunes of man. If their doctrine is
true, I do not see how any human being could ever
�( 9 )
smile again—I do not see how a mother conld welcome
her babe ; everything in nature would become hateful
—flowers and sunshine would simply tell us of our
fate.
My doctrine is exactly the opposite of this. Let us
enjoy ourselves every moment that we can. The love
of the dramatic is universal. The stage has not simply
amused, but it has elevated mankind. The greatest
genius of our world poured the treasures of his soul
into the drama. I do not believe that any girl can be
corrupted, or that any man can be injured, by becoming
acquainted with Isabella, or Miranda, or Juliet, or
Imogene, or any of the great heroines of Shake
speare.
So I regard the opera as one of the great civilisers.
No one can listen to the symphonies of Beethoven or
the music of Schubert, without receiving a benefit.
And no one can hear the operas of Wagner without
feeling that he has been ennobled and refined.
Why is it the Presbyterians are so opposed to music
in this world, and yet expect to have so much in
heaven ? Is not music just as demoralising in the sky
as on the earth, and does anybody believe that Abra
ham, or Isaac, or Jacob, ever played any music com
parable to Wagner ?
Why should we postpone our joy to another world ?
Thousands of people take great pleasure in dancing,
and I let them dance. Dancing is better than weeping
and wailing over a theology born of ignorance and
superstition.
And so with games of chance. There is a certain
pleasure in playing games, and the pleasure is of the
most innocent character. Let all these games be played
at home and children will not prefer the saloon to the
society of their parents. I believe in cards and billiards,
and would believe in progressive euchre were it more
of a game—the great objection to it is its lack of com
plexity. My idea is to get what little happiness you
can out of this life, and to enjoy all sunshine that
breaks through the clouds of misfortune. Life is poor
enough at best. No one should fail to pick up every
jewel of joy that can be found in his path. Every one
�( W )
should be as happy as he can, provided he is not happy
at the expense of another.
So let us get all we can of good between the cradle
and the grave—all that we can of the truly dramatic,
all that we can of enjoyment; and if, when death
comes, that is the end, we have at least made the best
of this life, and if there be another life, let us make the
best of that.
I am doing what little I can to hasten the coming
of the day when the human race will enjoy liberty—
not simply of body, but liberty of mind. And by
liberty of mind I mean freedom from superstition, and,
added to that, the intelligence to find out the conditions
of happiness ; and, added to that, the wisdom to live
in accordance with those conditions.
�(11)
SPIRITUALITY.
If there is an abused word in our language, it is
“ spirituality.”
It has been repeated over and over for several
years by pious pretenders and snivellers as though it
belonged exclusively to them.
In the early days of Christianity the “spiritual”
renounced the world, with all its duties and obliga
tions. They deserted their wives and children. They
became hermits and dwelt in caves. They spent
their useless years praying for their shrivelled and
worthless souls.
They were too “ spiritual ” to love women, to build
homes and to labor for children.
They were too “ spiritual ” to earn their bread, so
they became beggars, and stood by the highway of
life and held out their hands and asked alms of
industry and courage.
They were too “ spiritual ” to be merciful. They
preached the dogmas of eternal pain and gloried in
“ the wrath to come.”
They were too “ spiritual ” to be civilised, so they
persecuted their fellow-men for expressing their
honest thoughts.
They were so “spiritual” that they invented in
struments of torture, founded the Inquisition, ap
pealed to the whip, the rack, the sword and the fagot.
They tore the flesh of their fellow-man with hooks
of iron, buried their neighbors alive, cut off their
eyelids, dashed out the brains of babes and cut off
the breasts of mothers.
�( 12 )
These “ spiritual ” wretches spent day and night
on their knees praying for their own salvation and
asking God to curse the best and noblest in the
world.
John Calvin was intensely “spiritual” when he
warmed his fleshless hands at the flames that consumed
Servetus.
John Knox was constrained by his “spirituality”
to utter low and loathsome calumnies against all
women. All the witch-burners and quaker-maimers
and mutilators were so “ spiritual ” that they constantly
looked heavenward and longed for the skies.
These lovers of God—these haters of men—looked
upon the Greek marbles us unclean, and denounced
the glories of art as the snares and pitfalls of perdition.
These “ spiritual ” mendicants hated laughter and
smiles and dimples, and exhausted their diseased and
polluted imagination in the effort to make love loath
some.
_ From almost every pulpit was heard the denuncia
tion of all that adds to the wealth, the joy, and glory
of life. It became the fashion for the “ spiritual ” to
malign every hope and passion that tends to humanise
and refine the heart. Man was denounced as totally
depraved. Woman was declared to be a perpetual
temptation—her beauty a snare, and her touch pollu
tion.
Even in our own time and country some of the
ministers, no matter how radical they claim to be,
retain the aroma, the odor, or the smell of the
“ spiritual.”
They denounce some of the best and greatest—some
of the benefactors of the race—for having lived on a
low plane of usefulness, and for having had the pitiful
ambition to make their fellows happy in this world.
Thomas Paine was a grovelling wretch because he
devoted his life to the preservation of the rights of
man, and Voltaire lacked the “spiritual” because he
abolished torture in France, and attacked with the
enthusiasm of a divine madness the monster that was
endeavoring to drive the hope of liberty from the heart
of man.
�( 13 )
Humboldt was not “ spiritual ” enough to repeat
with closed eyes the absurdities of superstition, but
was so lost to all the “ skyey influences ” that he was
satisfied to add to the intellectual wealth of the world.
■Darwin lacked “ spirituality,” and in its place had
nothing but sincerity, patience, intelligence, the spirit
of investigation, and the courage to give his honest
conclusions to the world. He contented himself with
giving to his fellow men the greatest and the sublimest
truths that man has spoken since lips have uttered
speech.
But we are now told that these soldiers of science,
these heroes of liberty, these sculptors and painters,,
these singers of songs, these composers of music,
lacked “ spirituality ”’and after all were only common
clay.
This word “ spirituality ” is the fortress, the breast
work, the riflepit of the Pharisee. It sustains the same
relation to sincerity that Dutch metal does to pure gold.
There seems to be something about a pulpit that
poisons the occupant—that changes his nature—that
causes him to denounce what he really loves and to
laud with the fervor of insanity a joy that he never
felt—a rapture that never thrilled his soul. Hypnotised
by his surroundings, he unconsciously brings to market
that which he supposes the purchasers desire.
In every church, whether orthodox or radical, there
are two parties—one conservative, looking backward ;
one radical, looking forward—and generally a minister
“ spiritual ” enough to look both ways.
A. minister who seems to be a philosopher on the
street, or in the home of a sensible man, cannot with
stand the atmosphere of the pulpit. The moment he
stands behind a Bible cushion, like Bottom, he is
“ translated ” and the Titania of superstition “ kisses
his large, fair ears.”
Nothing is more amusing than to hear a clergyman
denounce worldliness—ask his hearers what it will
profit them to build railways and palaces and lose their
own souls—inquire of the common folks before him
why they waste their precious years in following
trades and professions, in gathering treasures that
�( 14 )
moths corrupt and rust devours, giving their days to
the vulgar business of making money—and then see
him take up a collection, knowing perfectly well that
only the worldly, the very people he has denounced,
can by any possibility give a dollar.
“ Spirituality,” for the most part, is a mask worn by
idleness, arrogance, and greed.
Some people imagine they are “ spiritual ” when
they are sickly.
It may be well enough to ask—What is it to be
really spiritual ?
The spiritual man lives up to his ideal. He
endeavors to make others happy. He does not despise
the passions that have filled the world with art and
glory. He loves his wife and* children—home and
fireside. He cultivates the amenities and refinements
of life. He is a friend and champion of the oppressed.
His sympathies are with the poor and the suffering.
He attacks what he believes to be wrong, though
defended by the many, and he is willing to stand for
the right against the world.
He enjoys the beautiful.
In the presence of the highest creations of Art his
eyes are suffused with tears. When he listens to the
great melodies, the divine harmonies, he feels the
sorrows and the raptures of death and love. He is
intensely human. He carries in his heart the burdens
of the world. He searches for the deeper meanings.
He appreciates the harmonies of conduct, the melody
of a perfect life.
He loves his wife and children better than any
God.
He cares more for the world he lives in than for any
other. He tries to discharge the duties of this life, to
help those that he can reach. He believes in being
useful—in making money to feed and clothe and
educate the ones he loves—to assist the deserving and
to support himself. He does not want to be a burden
on others. He is just, generous, and sincere.
Spirituality is all of this world. It is a child of this
earth, born and cradled here. It comes from no
heaven, but it makes a heaven where it is. There is
�( 15 )
no possible connection between superstition and the
spiritual, or between theology and the spiritual.
The spiritually-minded man is a poet. If he does
not write poetry, he lives it. He is an artist. If he
does not paint pictures or chisel statues, he feels them
and their beauty softens his heart. He fills the temple
of his soul with all that is beautiful and he worships at
the shrine of the ideal.
In all the relations of life he is faithful and true.
He asks for nothing that he does not earn. He does
not wish to be happy in heaven if he must receive
happiness as alms. He does not rely on the goodness
of another. He is not ambitious to become a winged
pauper.
.
Spirituality is the perfect health of the soul. It is
noble, manly, generous, brave, free-spoken, natural,
•SupGrl)»
Nothing is more sickening than the “spiritual”
whine—the pretence that crawls at first and talks about
humility, and then suddenly becomes arrogant and
says : “ I am ‘ spiritual ’—I hold in contempt the
vulgar jovs of this life. You work and toil and build
homes and sing songs and weave your delicate robes.
You love women and children and adorn yourselves.
You subdue the earth and dig for gold. You have
your theatres, your operas, and all the luxuries of life ;
but I, beggar that I am, Pharisee that I am, am your
superior because I am ‘ spiritual.’ ”
Above all things, let us be sincere.
Printed by G. W. Foote, at 28 Stonecutter Street, London, E.C.
�WORKS BY COLONEL R. G. INGERSOLL
s. d.
r
MISTAKES OF MOSES
Superior edition, in cloth ...
Only Complete Edition published in England.
DEFENCE OF FREETHOUGHT
Five Hours’ Speech, at the Trial of C. B.
Reynolds for Blasphemy.
REPLY TO GLADSTONE. With a Biography by
J. M. Wheeler
ROME OR REASON ? Reply to Cardinal Man ning
CRIMES AGAINST CRIMINALS
...
AN ORATION ON WALT WHITMAN ...
FAITH AND FACT. Reply to Rev. Dr. Field
GOD AND MAN. Second Reply to Dr. Field
...
THE HOUSEHOLD OF FAITH
...
LOVE THE REDEEMER. Reply to Count To lstoi
THE LIMITS OF TOLERATION
•••
A Discussion with Hon. F. D. Coudert and
Gov. S. L. Woodford
...
THE DYING CREED
DO I BLASPHEME ?
THE CLERGY AND COMMON SENSE
...
SOCIAL SALVATION
...
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE ...
...
GOD AND THE STATE
WHY AM I AN AGNOSTIC ?
...
...
WHY AM I AN AGNOSTIC ? Part II.
...
ART AND MORALITY
...
CHRIST AND MIRACLES
...
...
THE GREAT MISTAKE
...
LIVE TOPICS
MYTH AND MIRACLE
...
REAL BLASPHEMY
...
REPAIRING THE IDOLS
R. Forder, 28 Stonecutter-street, London, E.C.
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Victorian Blogging
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Creeds and spirituality
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Ingersoll, Robert Green [1833-1896]
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 15 p. ; 19 cm.
Notes: Reprinted from the New York Morning Advertiser. "Works by Colonel R.G. Ingersoll" listed on back cover. No. 12a in Stein checklist. Printed by G.W. Foote. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
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DIALOGUES
CONCERNING NATURAL RELIGION.
No. II.
BY
DAVID HUME, Esq.
4 nezo Edition, with a Preface and Notes, which bring the Subject
do wn to the present time.
PUBLISHED BY THOMAS SCOTT,
NO. 11, THE TERRACE, FARQUHAR ROAD,
UPPER NORWOOD, LONDON, S.E,
Price One Shilling.
��DIALOGUES
CONCERNING NATURAL RELIGION.
PART VII.
DUT here, continued Philo, in examining the ancient
system of the soul of the world, there strikes me, all
on a sudden, a new idea, which, if just, must go near
to subvert all your reasoning, and destroy even your
first inferences, on which you repose such confidence.
If the universe bears a greater likeness to animal bodies
and to vegetables, than to the works of human art, it
is more probable, that its cause resembles the cause
of the former than that of the latter, and its origin
ought rather to be ascribed to generation or vegetation
than to reason or design. Your conclusion, even
according to your own principles, is therefore lame and
defective.
Pray open up this argument a little farther, said
Demea. For I do not rightly apprehend it, in that
concise manner in which you have expressed it.
Our friend Cleanthes, replied Philo, as you have
heard, asserts, that since no question of fact can be
proved otherwise than by experience, the existence of
a Deity admits not of proof from any other medium.
The world, says he, resembles the works of human
contrivance : Therefore its cause must also resemble
that of the other. Here I we may remark, that the
operation of one very small part of nature, to wit man,
upon another very small part, to wit that inanimate
E
�64 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
matter lying within his reach, is the rule hy which
Cleanthes judges of the origin of the whole, and he
measures objects, so widely disproportioned, by the
same individual standard. But to waive all objections
drawn from this topic; I affirm, that there are other
parts of the universe (besides the machines of human
invention) which bear still a greater resemblance to
the fabric of the world, and which therefore afford a
better conjecture concerning the universal origin of this
system. These parts are animals and vegetables. The
world plainly resembles more an animal or a vegetable,
than it does a watch or a knitting-loom. Its cause,
therefore, it is more probable, resembles the cause of the
former. The cause of the former is generation or vege
tation. The cause, therefore, of the world, we may
infer to be something similar or analogous to generation
or vegetation.
But how is it conceivable, said Demea, that the
world can arise from anything similar to vegetation or
generation ?
Very easily, replied Philo. In like manner as a tree
sheds its seed into the neighbouring fields, and produces
other trees ; so the great vegetable, the world, or this
planetary system, produces within itself certain seeds,
which, being scattered into the surrounding chaos,
vegetate into new worlds. A comet, for instance, is
the seed of a world ; and after it has been fully ripened,
by passing from sun to sun, and star to star, it is at last
tossed into the unformed elements which everywhere
surround this universe, and immediately sprouts up
into a new system.
Or if, for the sake of variety (for I see no other
advantage), we should suppose this world to be an
animal; a comet is the egg of this animal : and in
like manner as an ostrich lays its egg in the sand,
which, without any further care, hatches the egg, and
produces a new animal; so.................I understand
you, says Demea: But what wild, arbitrary suppositions
�Part VII.
65
are these ? What data have you for such extraordinary
conclusions ? And is the slight, imaginary resemblance
of the world to a vegetable or an animal sufficient to
establish the same inference with regard to both ?
Objects, which are in general so widely different;
ought they to be a standard for each other?
Right cries Philo : This is the topic on which I have
all along insisted. I have still asserted, that we have
no data to establish any system of cosmogony. Our
experience, so imperfect in itself, and so limited both
in extent and duration, can afford us no probable
conjecture concerning the whole of things. But if we
must needs fix on some hypothesis; by what rule,
pray, ought we to determine our choice ? Is there any
other rule than the greater similarity of the objects
compared ? And does not a plant or an animal, which
springs from vegetation or generation, bear a stronger
resemblance to the world, than does any artificial
machine, which arises from reason and design ?
But what is this vegetation and generation of which
you talk, said Demea ? Can you explain their opera
tions, and anatomize that fine internal structure on
which they depend 1
As much, at least, replied Philo, as Cleanthes can
explain the operations of reason, or anatomize that in
ternal structure on which it depends. But without
any such elaborate disquisitions, when I see an animal,
I infer that it sprang from generation ; and that with
as great certainty as you conclude a house to have been
reared by design. These words, generation, reason,
mark only certain powers and energies in nature,
whose effects are known, but whose essence is incom
prehensible ; and one of these principles, more than
the other, has no privilege for being made a standard
to the whole of nature.
In reality, Demea, it may reasonably be expected,
that the larger the views are which we take of things,
the better will they conduct us in our conclusions
�66 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
concerning such, extraordinary and such magnificent
subjects. In this little corner of the world alone, there
are four principles, Reason, Instinct, Generation,
Vegetation, which are similar to each other, and are
the causes of similar effects. What a number of other
principles may we naturally suppose in the immense
extent and variety of the universe, could we travel
from planet to planet and from system to system, in
order to examine each part of this mighty fabric ?
Any one of these four principles above mentioned (and
a hundred others, which lie open to our conjecture)
may afford us a theory, by which to judge of the
origin of the world ; and it is a palpable and egregious
partiality, to confine our view entirely to that principle
by which our own minds operate. Were this principle
more intelligible on that account, such a partiality
might be somewhat excusable: but reason, in its
internal fabric and structure, is really as little known
to us as instinct or vegetation ; and perhaps even that
vague, undeterminate word, Nature, to which the
vulgar refer everything, is not at the bottom more
inexplicable. The effects of these principles are
all known to us from experience: but the principles
themselves, and their manner of operation, are totally
unknown : nor is it less intelligible, or less conformable
to experience, to say, that the world arose by vegetation
from a seed shed by another world, than to say that it
arose from a divine reason or contrivance, according to
the sense in which Cleanthes understands it.
But methinks, said Demea, if the world had a
vegetative quality, and could sow the seeds of new
worlds into the infinite chaos, this power would be
still an additional argument for design in its author.
For whence could arise so wonderful a faculty but
from design ? Or how can order spring from any
thing which perceives not that order which it bestows ?
You need only look around you, replied Philo, to
satisfy yourself with regard to this question. A tree
�Part VII.
6y
bestows order and organization on that tree which
springs from it, without knowing the order : an animal,
in the same manner, on its offspring; a bird, on its
nest: and instances of this kind are even more
frequent in the world than those of order, which arise
from reason and contrivance. To say that all this
order in animals and vegetables proceeds ultimately
from design, is begging the question : nor can that
great point be ascertained otherwise than by proving,
a priori, both that order is, from its nature, inseparably
attached to thought; and that it can never, of itself,
or from original unknown principles, belong to matter.
But further, Demea ; this objection, which you urge,
can never be made use of by Cleanthes, without
renouncing a defence which he has already made
against one of my objections. When I inquired con
cerning the cause of that supreme reason and
intelligence, into which he resolves everything; he
told me, that the impossibility of satisfying such
inquiries could never be admitted as an objection in
any species of philosophy. “ We must stop somewhere,”
says he; “ nor is it ever within the reach of human
capacity to explain ultimate causes, or show the last
connections of any objects. It is sufficient, if the steps,
so far as we go, are supported by experience and
observation.” Now, that vegetation and generation,
as well as reason, are experienced to be principles of
order in nature, is undeniable. If I rest my system of
cosmogony on the former, preferably to the latter, it is
at my choice. The matter seems entirely arbitrary.
And when Cleanthes asks me what is the cause of my
great vegetative or generative faculty, I am equally
entitled to ask him the cause of his great reasoning
principle. These questions we have agreed to forbear on
both sides; and it is chiefly his interest on the present
occasion to stick to this agreement. Judging by our
limited and imperfect experience, generation has some
privileges above reason : for we see every day the latter
arise from the former, never the former from the latter.
�68 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
Compare, I beseech you, the consequences on both
sides. The world, say I, resembles an animal; there
fore it is an animal, therefore it arose from generation.
The steps, I confess, are wide ; yet there is some small
appearance of analogy in each step. The world, says
Cleanthes, resembles a machine • therefore it is a
machine, therefore it arose from design. The steps
here are equally wide, and the analogy less striking.
And if he pretends to carry on my hypothesis a step
farther, and to infer design or reason from the great
principle of generation, on which I insist; I may, with
better authority, use the same freedom to push farther
lus hypothesis, and infer a divine generation or
theogony from his principle of reason. I have at least
some faint shadow of experience, which is the utmost
that can ever be attained in the present subject.
.Beason, in innumerable instances, is observed to arise
from the principle of generation, and never to arise
from any other principle.
Hesiod, and all the ancient Mythologists, were so
struck with this analogy, that they universally explained
the origin of nature from an animal birth, and copula
tion. Plato too, so far as he is intelligible, seems to
have adopted some such notion in his Timaeus.
The Bramins assert, that the world arose from an
infinite spider, who spun this whole complicated mass
from his bowels, and annihilates afterwards the whole or
any part of it, by absorbing it again, and resolving it into
his own essence. Here is a species of cosmogony,
which appears to us ridiculous; because a spider is a
little contemptible animal, whose operations we are
never likely to take for a model of the whole universe.
But still here is a new species of analogy, even in our
globe. And were there a planet wholly inhabited by
spiders, (which is very possible), this inference would
there appear as natural and irrefragable as that which
in our planet ascribes the origin of all things to design
and intelligence, as explained by Cleanthes. Why an
�Part VIII.
69
orderly system may not be spun from the belly as well
as from the brain, it will be difficult for him to give a
satisfactory reason.
I must confess, Philo, replied Cleanthes, that of all
men living, the task which you have undertaken, of
raising doubts and objections, suits you best, and
seems, in a manner, natural and unavoidable to you.
So great is your fertility of invention, that I am not
ashamed to acknowledge myself unable, on a sudden,
to solve regularly such out-of-the-way difficulties as you
incessantly start upon me : though I clearly see, in
general, their fallacy and error. And I question not,
but you are yourself, at present, in the same case, and
have not the solution so ready as the objection : while
you must be sensible, that common sense and reason
are entirely against you ; and that such whimsies as you
have delivered, may puzzle, but never can convince us.
PART VIII.
What you ascribe to the fertility of my invention
replied Philo, is entirely owing to the nature of the
subject. In subjects, adapted to the narrow compass
of human reason, there is commonly but one deter
mination, which carries probability or conviction with it;
■and to a man of sound judgment, all other suppositions,
but that one, appear entirely absurd and chimerical.
But in such questions as the present, a hundred
contradictory views may preserve a kind of imperfect
analogy ; and invention has here full scope to exert
itself. Without any great effort of thought, I believe
that I could, in an instant, propose other systems
of cosmogony, which would have some faint appearance
of truth; though it is a thousand, a million to one,
if either yours or any one of mine be the true system.
For instance; what if I should revive the old
Epicurean hypothesis ? This is commonly, and I believe
�7° Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
justly, esteemed the most absurd system that has yet
been proposed ; yet, I know not, whether, with a few
alterations, it might_ not be brought to bear a faint
appearance of probability. Instead of supposing matter
infinite, as Epicurus did ; let us suppose it finite. A
finite number of particles'is only susceptible of finite
transpositions j and it must happen, in an eternal
duration, that every possible order or position must be
tried an infinite number of times. This world, there
fore, with all its events, even the most minute, has
before been produced and destroyed, and will again be
produced and destroyed, without any bounds and
limitations. No one, who has a conception of the
powers of infinite, in comparison of finite, will ever
scruple this determination.
But this supposes, said Demea, that matter can
acquire motion, without any voluntary agent or first
mover.
And where is the difficulty, replied Philo, of that
supposition ? Every event, before experience, is equally
difficult and incomprehensible; and every event, after
experience, is equally easy and intelligible. Motion,
in many instances, from gravity, from elasticity, from
electricity, begins in matter, without any known
voluntary agent: and to suppose always, in these cases,
an unknown voluntary agent, is mere hypothesis ; and
hypothesis attended with no advantages. The beginning
of motion in matter itself is as conceivable a priori as
its communication from mind and intelligence.
Besides ; why may not motion have been propagated
by impulse through all eternity; and the same stock
of it, or nearly the same, be still upheld in the
universe ? As much as is lost by the composition of
motion, as much is gained by its resolution. And
whatever the causes are, the fact is certain, that matter
is, and always has been, in continual agitation, as far
as human experience or tradition reaches. There is not
probably, at present, in the whole universe, one particle
of matter at absolute rest.
�Part VIII.
71
And this very consideration too, continued Philo,
which we have stumbled on in the course of the argu
ment, suggests a new hypothesis of cosmogony, that is
not absolutely absurd and improbable. Is there a system,
an order, an economy of things, by which matter can
preserve that perpetual agitation which seems essential
to it, and yet maintain a constancy in the forms which
it produces ? There certainly is such an economy : for
this is actually the case with the present world. The
continual motion of matter, therefore, in less than in
finite transpositions, must produce this economy or
order; and by its very nature, that order, when once
established, supports itself for many ages, if not to
eternity. But wherever matter is so poised, arranged,
and adjusted, as to continue in perpetual motion, and
yet preserve a constancy in the forms, its situation must,
of necessity, have all the same appearance of art and
contrivance which we observe at present. All the
parts of each form must have a relation to each other,
and to the whole: and the whole itself must have a
relation to the other parts of the universe; to the
element, in which the form subsists ; to the materials,
with which it repairs its waste and decay; and to
every other form, which is hostile or friendly. A
defect in any of these particulars destroys the form;
and the matter, of which it is composed, is again let
loose, and is thrown into irregular motions and fermen
tations, till it unite itself to some other regular form.
If no such form be prepared to receive it, and if there
be a great quantity of this corrupted matter in the
universe, the universe itself is entirely disordered;
whether it be the feeble embryo of a world in its first
beginnings that is thus destroyed, or the rotten carcase
of one languishing in old age and infirmity. In
either case, a chaos ensues; till finite, though in
numerable revolutions produce at last some forms,
whose parts and organs are so adjusted as to support
the forms amidst a continued succession of matter.
�Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
Suppose, (for we shall endeavour to vary the ex
pression) that matter were thrown into any position,
by a blind, unguided force ; it is evident, that this
first position must in all probability be the most
confused and most disorderly imaginable, without any
resemblance to those works of human contrivance, which,
along with a symmetry of parts discover an adjustment
of means to ends, and a tendency to self-preservation.
If the actuating force cease after this operation, matter
must remain for ever in disorder, and continue an
immense chaos, without any proportion or activity.
But suppose, that the actuating force, whatever it be,
still continues in matter, this first position will
immediately give place to a second, which will likewise
in all probability be as disorderly as the first, and so on
through many successions of changes and revolutions.
No particular order or position ever continues a
moment unaltered.
The original force, still remain
ing in activity, gives a perpetual restlessness to matter.
Every possible situation is produced, and instantly
destroyed. If a glimpse or dawn of order appears for
a moment, it is instantly hurried away, and confounded
by that never-ceasing force which actuates every part of
matter.
Thus the universe goes on for many ages in a con
tinued succession of chaos and disorder. But is it not
possible that it may settle at last, so as not to lose its
motion and active force (for that we have supposed
inherent in it), yet so as to preserve a uniformity of
appearance, amidst the continual motion and fluctuation
of its parts ? This we find to be the case with the
universe at present. Every individual is perpetually
changing, and every part of every individual; and yet
the whole remains, in appearance, the same. May we
not hope for such a position, or rather be assured of it,
from the eternal revolutions of unguided matter; and
may not this account for all the appearing wisdom
and contrivance which is in the universe ? Let us
�Part VIII.
73
contemplate the subject a little, and we shall find that
this adjustment, if attained by matter, of a seeming
stability in the forms, with a real and perpetual
revolution or motion of parts, affords a plausible, if not
a true solution of the difficulty.
It is in vain, therefore, to insist upon the uses of the
parts in animals or vegetables, and their curious
adjustment to each other. I would fain know how an
animal could subsist, unless its parts were so adjusted ?
Do we not find, that it immediately perishes whenever
this adjustment ceases, and that its matter, corrupting,
tries some new form ? It happens, indeed, that the
parts of the world are so well adjusted, that some
regular form immediately lays claim to this corrupted
matter: and if it were not so, could the world subsist ?
Must it not dissolve as well as the animal, and pass
through new positions and situations; till in a great,
but finite succession, it fall at last into the present
or some such order.
. It is well, replied Cleanthes, you told us, that this
hypothesis was suggested on a sudden, in the course of
the argument. Had you had leisure to examine it, you
would soon have perceived the insuperable objections
to which it is exposed. No form, you say, can subsist
unless it possess those powers and organs requisite for
its subsistence : some new order or economy must be
tried, and so on, without intermission ; till at last some'
order, which can support and maintain itself, is fallen
upon. But according to this hypothesis, whence arise
the many conveniences and advantages which men and
all animals possess ? Two eyes, two ears, are not
absolutely necessary for the subsistence of the species.
Human race might have been propagated and preserved,
without horses, dogs, cows, sheep, and those innumer
able fruits and products which serve to our satisfaction
and enjoyment. If no camels had been created for the
use of man in the sandy deserts of Africa and Arabia
would the world have been dissolved ? If no loadstone
�74 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
had been framed to give that wonderful and useful
direction to the needle, would human society and the
human kind have been immediately extinguished ?
Though the maxims of Nature be in general very
frugal, yet instances of this kind are far from being
rare; and any one of them is a sufficient proof of
design, and of a benevolent design, which gave rise to
the order and arrangement of the universe.
At least, you may safely infer, said Philo, that the
foregoing hypothesis is so far incomplete and imperfect;
which I shall not scruple to allow. But can we ever
reasonably expect greater success in any attempts of
this nature 1 Or can we ever hope to erect a system of
cosmogony, that will be liable to no exceptions, and
will contain no circumstance repugnant to our limited
and imperfect experience of the analogy of Nature 1
Your theory itself cannot surely pretend to any such
advantage; even though you have run into Anthropo
morphism, the better to preserve a conformity to
common experience. Let us once more put it to trial.
In all instances which we have ever seen, ideas are
copied from real objects, and are ectypal, not
archetypal, to express myself in learned terms : You
reverse this order, and give thought the precedence.
In all instances which we have ever seen, thought has
no influence upon matter, except where that matter is
so conjoined with it as to have an equal reciprocal
influence upon it. No animal can move immediately
anything but the members of its own body ; and
indeed, the equality of action and reaction seem to be
a universal law of Nature. But your theory implies a
contradiction to this experience. These instances, with
many more, which it were easy to collect, (particularly
the supposition of a mind or system of thought that is
eternal, or, in other words, an animal ingenerable and
immortal); these instances, I say, may teach all of us
sobriety in condemning each other ; and let us see, that
as no system of this kind ought ever to be received
�Part IX.
75
from a slight analogy, so neither ought any to he
rejected on account of a small incongruity. For that
is an inconvenience from which we can justly pronounce
no one to he exempted.
All religious systems, it is confessed, are subject to
great and insuperable difficulties.
Each disputant
triumphs in histurn; while he carries on an offensive war,
and exposes the absurdities, barbarities, and pernicious
tenets of his antagonist. But all of them, on the whole,
prepare a complete triumph for the Sceptic ; who tells
them that no system ought ever to be embraced with
regard to such subjects : for this plain reason, that no
absurdity ought ever to be assented to with regard to
any subject. A total suspense of judgment is here
our only reasonable resource. And if every attack, as
is commonly observed, and no defence, among Theolo
gians, is successful; how complete must be his victory,
who remains always, with all mankind, on the
offensive, and has himself no fixed station or abiding
city,* which he is ever, on any occasion, obliged to
defend ?
PART IX.
But if so many difficulties attend the argument a pos
teriori, said Demea; had we not better adhere to that
simple and sublime argument a priori, which, by offer
ing to us infallible demonstration, cuts off at once all
doubt and difficulty ? By this argument, too, we may
prove the Infinity of the divine attributes ; which, I
am afraid, can never be ascertained with certainty from
any other topic. For how can an effect, which either
is finite, or, for aught we know, may be so; how can
such an effect, I say, prove an infinite cause ? The
unity too of the Divine Nature, it is very difficult, if
not absolutely impossible, to deduce merely from con
templating the works of nature; nor will the uni* Hebrews xiii. 14.
�7 6 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
formity alone of the plan, even were it allowed, give
us any assurance of that attribute. Whereas the argu
ment a priori ....
You seem to reason, Demea, interposed Cleanthes, as
if those advantages and conveniences in the abstract
argument were full proofs of its solidity. But it is
first proper, in my opinion, to determine what argument
of this nature you choose to insist on; and we shall
afterwards, from itself, better than from its useful con
sequences, endeavour to determine what value we ought
to put upon it.
The argument, replied Demea, which I would insist
on, is the common one. Whatever exists, must have
a cause or reason of its existence; it being absolutely
impossible for anything to produce itself, or be the
cause of its own existence. In mounting up, therefore,
from effects to causes, we must either go on in tracing
an infinite succession, without any ultimate cause at all;
or must at last have recourse to some ultimate cause,
that is necessarily existent: now that the first supposi
tion is absurd, may be thus proved. In the infinite
chain or succession of cause and effect, each single effect
is determined to exist by the power and efficacy of that
cause which immediately preceded; but the whole
eternal chain or succession, taken together, is not
determined or caused by anything; and yet it is
evident that it requires a cause or reason, as much
as any particular object which begins to exist in time.
The question is still reasonable, why this particular
succession of causes existed from eternity, and not
any other succession, or no succession at all. If
there be no necessarily-existent being, any supposi
tion which can be formed is equally possible; nor is
there any more absurdity in Nothing’s having existed
from eternity, than there is in that succession of causes
which constitutes the universe. What was it, then,
which determined Something to exist rather than
Nothing, and bestowed being on a particular possibility,
�Part IX.
77
exclusive of the rest ? External causes, there are
supposed to he none. Chance is a word without a
meaning. Was it Nothing ? But that can never pro
duce anything. We must, therefore, have recourse to
a necessarily-existent Being, who carries the Reason of
his existence in himself; and who cannot be supposed
not to exist, without an express contradiction. There
is consequently such a Being ; that is, there is a Deity.
I shall not leave it to Philo, said Cleanthes, (though
I know that the starting objections is his chief delight)
to point out the weakness of this metaphysical reason
ing. It seems to me so obviously ill-grounded, and at
the same time of so little consequence to the cause of
true piety and religion, that I shall myself venture to
show the fallacy of it.
I shall begin with observing, that there is an evident
absurdity in pretending to demonstrate a matter of fact,
or to prove it by any arguments a priori. Nothing is
demonstrable, unless the contrary implies a contra
diction. Nothing, that is distinctly conceivable, im
plies a contradiction. Whatever we conceive as
existent, we can also conceive as non-existent. There
is no being, therefore, whose non-existence implies a
contradiction. Consequently there is no being, whose
existence is demonstrable. I propose this argument as
entirely decisive, and am willing to rest the whole
controversy upon it.
It is pretended that the Deity is a necessarilyexistent being; and this necessity of his existence is
attempted to be explained by asserting, that if we knew
his whole essence or nature, we should perceive it to
be as impossible for him not to exist as for twice two
not to be four. But it is evident, that this can never
happen, while our faculties remain the same as at
present. It will still be possible for us, at any time,
to conceive the non-existence of what we formerly con
ceived to exist; nor can the mind ever lie under a
necessity of supposing any object to remain always
�7 8 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
in. being j in the same manner as we lie under a
necessity of always conceiving twice two to be four.
The words, therefore, necessary existence, have no
meaning; or, which is the same thing, none that is
■consistent.
But farther : why may not the material universe be
the necessarily-existent Being, according to this pre
tended explication of necessity? We dare not affirm
that we know all the qualities of matterj and for aught
we can determine, it may contain some qualities, which,
were they known, would make its non-existence appear
as great a contradiction as that twice two is five. I
find only one argument employed to prove that the
material world is not the necessarily-existent Being;
.and this argument is derived from the contingency
both of the matter and the form of the world. “ Any
particle of matter,” it is said *, “ may be conceived to
be annihilated; and any form may be conceived to be
altered. Such an annihilation or alteration, therefore,
is not impossible.” But it seems a great partiality not
to perceive, that the same argument extends equally to
the Deity, so far as we have any conception of him;
and that the mind can at least imagine him to be non
existent, or his attributes to be altered. It must be
some unknown, inconceivable qualities, which can
make his non-existence appear impossible, or his attri
butes unalterable : and no reason can be assigned, why
these qualities may not belong to matter. As they are
altogether unknown and inconceivable, they can never
be proved incompatible with it.
Add to this, that in tracing an eternal succession of
objects, it seems absurd to inquire for a general cause
or first author. How can anything that exists from
eternity, have a cause; since that relation implies a
priority in time, and a beginning of existence ?
In such a chain, too, or succession of objects, each
part is caused by that which preceded it, and causes
* Dr Clarke.
�Part IX.
79
that which succeeds it. Where then is the difficulty ?
But the whole, you say, wants a cause. I answer, that
the uniting of these parts into a whole, like the
uniting of several distinct counties into one king
dom, or several distinct members into one body, is
performed merely by an arbitrary act of the mind, and
has no influence on the nature of things. Did I show
you the particular causes of each individual in a collec
tion of twenty particles of matter, I should think it
very unreasonable, should you afterwards ask me, what
was the cause of the whole twenty. That is suffi
ciently explained in explaining the cause of the parts.
Though the reasonings which you have urged,
Cleanthes, may well excuse me, said Philo, from start
ing any farther difficulties; yet I cannot forbear
insisting still upon another topic. It is observed by
arithmeticians, that the products of 9 compose always
either 9, or some lesser product of 9 ; if you add to
gether all the characters, of which any of the former
products is composed. Thus, of 18, 27, 36, which are
products of 9, you make 9 by adding 1 to 8, 2 to 7, 3
to 6. Thus, of 369 is a product also of 9 ; and if you
add 3, 6, and 9, you make 18, a lesser product of 9 *.
To a superficial observer, so wonderful a regularity may
be admired as the effect either of chance or design:
but a skilful algebraist immediately concludes it to be
the work of necessity; and demonstrates, that it must
for ever result from the nature of these numbers. Is it
not probable, I ask, that the whole economy of the
universe is conducted by a like necessity, though no
human algebra can furnish a key which solves the diffi
culty ? And instead of admiring the order of natural
beings, may it not happen, that, could we penetrate into
the intimate nature of bodies, we should clearly see
why it was absolutely impossible they could ever admit
of any other disposition ? So dangerous is it to intro
duce this idea of necessity into the present question 1
* Republique des Lettres, Aout, 1685.
F
�80
Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
and so naturally does it afford an inference directly
opposite to the religious hypothesis !
But dropping all these abstractions, continued Philo ;
and confining ourselves to more familiar topics ; I shall
venture to add an observation, that the argument a
priori has seldom been found very convincing, except
to people of a metaphysical head, who have accustomed
themselves to abstract reasoning, and who, finding from
mathematics, that the understanding frequently leads
to truth, through obscurity, and contrary to first appear
ances, have transferred the same habit of thinking to
subjects where it ought not to have place. Other
people, even of good sense and the best inclined to
religion, feel always some deficiency in such argu
ments, though they are not perhaps able to explain dis
tinctly where it lies. A certain proof, that men ever
did, and ever will, derive their religion from other
sources than from this species of reasoning.
P A R T X.
It is my opinion, I own, replied Demea, that each man
feels, in a manner, the truth of religion within his own
breast; and from a consciousness of his imbecility and
misery, rather than from any reasoning, is led to
seek protection from that being, on whom he and
all nature is dependent. So anxious or so tedious are
even the best scenes of life, that futurity is still the
object of all our hopes and fears. We incessantly look
forward, and endeavour, by prayers, adoration and
sacrifice, to appease those unknown powers, whom we
find, by experience, so able to afflict and oppress us.
Wretched creatures that we are ! what resource for us
amidst the innumerable ills of life, did not religion sug
gest some methods of atonement, and appease those
terrors with which we are incessantly agitated and
tormented ?
�Part X.
81
I am indeed persuaded, said Philo, that the best, and
indeed the only, method of bringing every one to a due
sense of religion, is by just representations of the
misery and wickedness of men. And for that purpose
a talent of eloquence and strong imagery is more
requisite than that of reasoning and argument. For is
it necessary to prove, what every one feels within bimself? It is only necessary to make us feel it, if
possible, more intimately and sensibly.
The people, indeed, replied Demea, are sufficiently
convinced of this great and melancholy truth. The
miseries of life; the unhappiness of man; the general
corruptions of our nature; the unsatisfactory enjoyment
of pleasures, riches, honours; these phrases have
become almost proverbial in all languages. And who
can doubt of what all men declare from their own
immediate feeling and experience ?
In this point, said Philo, the learned are perfectly
agreed with the vulgar; and in all letters, sacred and
profane, the topic of human misery has been insisted
on with the most pathetic eloquence that sorrow and
melancholy could inspire. The poets, who speak from
sentiment, without a system, and whose testimony has
therefore the more authority, abound in images of this
nature. From Homer down to Dr Young, the whole
inspired tribe have ever been sensible, that no other re
presentation of things would suit the feeling and
observation of each individual.
As to authorities, replied Demea, you need not seek
them. Look round this library of Cleanthes. I shall
venture to affirm, that, except authors of particular
sciences, such as chemistry or botany, who have no
occasion to treat of human life, there is scarce one of
those innumerable writers, from whom the sense of
human misery has not, in some passage or other, extorted
a complaint and confession of it. At least, the chance
is entirely on that side; and no one author has ever, so
far as I can recollect, been so extravagant as to deny it.
�82 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
There you must excuse me, said Philo : Leibnitz has
denied it; and is perhaps the first * who ventured upon
so bold and paradoxical an opinion; at least, the first
who made it essential to his philosophical system.
And by being the first, replied Demea, might he not
have been sensible of his error ? For is this a subject
in which philosophers can propose to make discoveries,
especially in so late an age ? And can any man hope
by a simple denial (for the subject scarcely admits of
reasoning) to bear down the united testimony of man
kind, founded on sense and consciousness 2
And why should man, added he, pretend to an
exemption from the lot of all other animals ? The whole
earth, believe me, Philo, is cursed and polluted. + A
perpetual war is kindled amongst all living creatures.
Necessity, hunger, want, stimulate the strong and
courageous: Fear, anxiety, terror, agitate the weak and
infirm. The first entrance into life gives anguish to the
new-born infant and to its wretched parent: weakness,
impotence, distress, attend each stage of that life: and
it is at last finished in agony and horror.
Observe too, says Philo, the curious artifices of Nature
in order to embitter the life of every living being. The
stronger prey upon the weaker, .and keep them in per
petual terror and anxiety. The weaker too, in their
turn, often prey upon the stronger, and vex and molest
them without relaxation. Consider that innumerable
race of insects, which either are bred on the body of
each animal, or flying about infix their stings in him,
These insects have others still less than themselves,
which torment them. And thus on each hand, before
and behind, above and below, every animal is surround
ed with enemies, which incessantly seek his misery and
destruction.
Man alone, said Demea, seems to be, in part, an
That sentiment had been maintained by Dr King*, and some few
others, before Leibnitz; though by none of so great fame as that
German philosopher.
t Romans viii. 22.
�Part X.
exception to this rule. For by combination in society,
he can easily master lions, tigers, and bears, whose
greater strength and agility naturally enable them to
prey upon him.
On the contrary, it is here chiefly, cried Philo, that
the uniform and equal maxims of Nature are most ap
parent. Man, it is true, can, by combination, surmount
all his real enemies, and become master of the whole
animal creation : but does he not immediately raise up
to himself imaginary enemies, the daemons of his fancy,
who haunt him with superstitious terrors, and blast
every enjoyment of life ? His pleasure, as he imagines,
becomes, in their eyes, a crime: his food and repose give
them umbrage and offence : his very sleep and dreams
furnish new materials to anxious fear: and even death,
his refuge from every other ill, presents only the dread
of endless and innumerable woes. Nor does the wolf
molest more the timid flock, than superstition does the
anxious breast of wretched mortals.
Besides, consider, Demea: This very society, by which
we surmount those wild beasts, our natural enemies;
what new enemies does it not raise to us ? What woe and
misery does it not occasion 1 Man is the greatest enemy
of man. Oppression, injustice, contempt, contumely,
violence, sedition, war, calumny, treachery, fraud; by
these they mutually torment each other: and they would
soon dissolve that society which they had formed, were
it not for the dread of still greater ills, which must
attend their separation.
But though these external insults, said Demea, from
animals, from men, from all the elements, which assault
us, form a frightful catalogue of woes, they are nothing
in comparison of those which arise within ourselves,
from the distempered condition of our mind and body.
How many lie under the lingering torment of diseases ?
Hear the pathetic enumeration of the great poet—
Intestine stone and ulcer, colic-pangs,
Daemoniac frenzy, moping melancholy,
�84 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
And moon-struck madness, pining atrophy,
Marasmus, and wide-wasting pestilence.
Dire was the tossing, deep the groans : Despair
Tended the sick, busiest from couch to couch.
And over them triumphant Death his dart
Shook ; but delay’d to strike, tho’ oft invok’d
With vows, as their chief good and final hope.*
The disorders of the mind, continued Demea, though
more secret, are not perhaps less dismal and vexatious.
Remorse, shame, anguish, rage, disappointment, anxiety,
fear, dejection, despair; who has ever passed through
life without cruel inroads from these tormentors ?
How many have scarcely ever felt any better sensa
tions ? Labour and poverty, so abhorred by every one,
are the certain lot of the far greater number : and
those few privileged persons, who enjoy ease and
opulence, never reach contentment or true felicity.
All the goods of life united would not make a very
happy man : but all the ills united would make a
wretch indeed ; and any one of them almost (and who
can be free from every one ?) nay often the absence of
one good (and who can possess all ?) is sufficient to
render life ineligible.
Were a stranger to drop, on a sudden, into this world,
I would show him, as a specimen of its ills, an hospital
full of diseases, a prison crowded with malefactors
and debtors, a field of battle strewed with carcases, a
fleet foundering in the ocean, a nation languishing under
tyranny, famine, or pestilence. To turn the gay side
of life to him and give him a notion of its pleasures ;
whither should I conduct him ? to a ball, to an opera,
to court 1 He might justly think, that I was only
showing him a diversity of distress and sorrow.
There is no evading such striking instances, said
Philo, but by apologies, which still farther aggravate
the charge. Why have all men, I ask, in all ages,
complained incessantly of the miseries of life ? . . .
They have no just reason, says one : these complaints
* Paradise Lost, xi. 484— 493.
�Part X.
85
proceed only from their discontented, repining, anxious
disposition. . . . And can there possibly, I reply, be a
more certain foundation of misery, than such a
wretched temper ?
But if they were really as unhappy as they pretend,
•says my antagonist, why do they remain in life 1 . . .
Not satisfied with life, afraid of death.
This is the secret chain, say I, that holds us. We are
terrified, not bribed to the continuance of our ex
istence.
It is only a false delicacy, he may insist, which a
few refined spirits indulge, and which has spread these
■complaints among the whole race ? of mankind. . . .
And what is this delicacy, I ask, which you blame ?
Is it anything but a greater sensibility to all the
pleasures and pains of life ? and if the man of a
delicate, refined temper, by being so much more alive
than the rest of the world, is only so much more
unhappy; what judgment must we form in general of
human life ?
Let men remain at rest, says our adversary; and
they will be easy. They are willing artificers of their
own misery. . . . No ! reply I: an anxious languor
follows their repose; disappointment, vexation, trouble
their activity and ambition.
I can observe something like what you mention in
some others, replied Cleanthes : but I confess, I feel
little or nothing of it in myself; and hope that it is
not so common as you represent it.
If you feel not human misery yourself, cried Demea,
I congratulate you on so happy a singularity. Others,
seemingly the most prosperous, have not been ashamed
to vent their complaints in the most melancholy
strains. Let us attend to the great, the fortunate
-emperor, Charles V. when, tired with human grandeur,
he resigned all his extensive dominions into the hands
of his son. In the last harangue, which he made on
�86 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
that memorable occasion, he publicly avowed, “ that
the greatest prosperities which he had ever enjoyed, had
been mixed with so many adversities, that he might
truly say he had never enjoyed any satisfaction or
contentmentBut did the retired life, in which he
sought for shelter, afford him any greater happiness 1
If we may credit his son’s account, his repentance
commenced the very day of his resignation.
Cicero’s fortune, from small beginnings, rose to the
greatest lustre and renown; yet what pathetic com
plaints of the ills of life do his familiar letters, as well
as philosophical discourses, contain ? And suitably to
his own experience, he introduces Cato, the great, the
fortunate Cato, protesting in his old age, that had he
a new life in his offer, he would reject the present.
Ask yourself, ask any of your acquaintance, whether
they would live over again the last ten or twenty years
of their life. No ! but the next twenty, they say, will
be better :
And from the dregs of life, think to receive
What the first sprightly running could not give. *
Thus at last they find (such is the greatness of human
misery; it reconciles even contradictions) that they
complain, at once of the shortness of life, and of its
vanity and sorrow.
And is it possible, Cleanthes, said Philo, that after
all these reflections, and infinitely more, which might
be suggested, you can still persevere in your Anthro
pomorphism, and assert the moral attributes of the
Deity, his justice, benevolence, mercy, and rectitude,
to be of the same nature with these virtues in human
creatures ? His power we allow infinite : whatever
he wills is executed: but neither man nor any other
animal is happy: therefore he does not will their
happiness. His wisdom is infinite: he is never
mistaken in choosing the means to any end : but the
course of Nature tends not to human or animal felicity :
* From Dryden’s “ Aurengzebe. ”
�Part X.
87
therefore it is not established for that purpose.
Through the whole compass of human knowledge,
there are no inferences more certain and infallible than
these. In what respect, then, do his benevolence and
mercy resemble the benevolence and mercy of men ?
Epicurus’ old questions are yet unanswered.
Is he willing to prevent evil, but not able 1 then ishe impotent. Is he able, but not willing ? then is he
malevolent. Is he both able and willing 1 whence
then is evil 1
You ascribe, Cleanthes, (and I believe justly) a
purpose and intention to Nature. But what, I beseech
you, is the object of that curious artifice and machinery,
which she has displayed in all animals ? The preserva
tion alone of individuals, and propagation of the species.
It seems enough for her purpose, if such a rank be
barely upheld in the universe, without any care or con
cern for the happiness of the members that compose it.
No resource for this purpose : no machinery, in order
merely to give pleasure or ease : no fund of pure joy
and contentment: no indulgence, without some want
or necessity accompanying it.
At least, the few .
phenomena of this nature are overbalanced by opposite
phenomena of still greater importance.
Our sense of music, harmony, and indeed beauty of
all kinds, gives satisfaction, without being absolutely
necessary to the preservation and propagation of the
species. But what racking pains, on the other hand,
arise from gouts, gravels, megrims, toothaches, rheu
matisms ; where the injury to the animal-machinery
is either small or incurable ? Mirth, laughter, play,
frolic, seem gratuitous satisfactions, which have no
farther tendency : spleen, melancholy, discontent,
superstition, are pains of the same nature. How then
does the divine benevolence display itself, in the sense
of you Anthropomorphites ? None but we Mystics, asyou were pleased to call us, can account for this strange
mixture of phenomena, by deriving it from attributes,
infinitely perfect, but incomprehensible.
�88 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
And have you at last, said Cleanthes smiling,
betrayed your intentions, Philo ? Your long agreement
with Demea did indeed a little surprise me; but I find
you were all the while erecting a concealed battery
against me. And I must confess, that you have now fallen
upon a subject worthy of your noble spirit of opposition
and controversy. If you can make out the present
point, and prove mankind to be unhappy or corrupted,
there is an end at once of all religion. Por to what
purpose establish the natural attributes of the Deity,
while the moral are still doubtful and uncertain ?
You take umbrage very easily, replied Demea, at
opinions the most innocent, and the most generally re
ceived even amongst the religious and devout themselves:
and nothing can be more surprising than to find a topic
like this, concerning the wickedness and misery of
man, charged with no less than Atheism and profane
ness. Have not all pious divines and preachers, who
have indulged their rhetoric on so fertile a subject;
have they not easily, I say, given a solution of any
difficulties which may attend it! This world is but a
. point in comparison of the universe; this life but a
moment in comparison of eternity. The present evil
phenomena, therefore, are rectified in other regions,
and in some future period of existence. And the eyes
of men, being then opened to larger views of things,
see the whole connection of general laws; and trace,
with adoration, the benevolence and rectitude of the
Deity, through all the maze and intricacies of his
providence.
No 1 replied Cleanthes, No ! These arbitrary sup
positions can never be admitted, contrary to matter of
fact, visible and uncontroverted. Whence can any
cause be known but from its known effects ? Whence
can any hypothesis be proved but from the apparent
phenomena ? To establish one hypothesis upon
another, is building entirely in the air ; and the utmost
we ever attain, by these conjectures and fictions, is to
�Part X.
89
ascertain the bare possibility of our opinion; but never
can we, upon such terms, establish its reality.
The only method of supporting divine benevolence
(and it is what I willingly embrace) is to deny ab
solutely the misery and wickedness of man. Your
representations are exaggerated; your melancholy views
mostly fictitious ; your inferences contrary to fact and
experience. Health is more common than sickness;
pleasure than pain ; happiness than misery. And for
one vexation which we meet with, we attain, upon
computation, a hundred enjoyments.
Admitting your position, replied Philo, which yet is
extremely doubtful; you must, at the same time, allow,
that, if pain be less frequent than pleasure, it is in
finitely more violent and durable. One hour of it is
often able to outweigh a day, a week, a month of our
common insipid enjoyments. And how many days,
weeks, and months, are passed by several in the most
acute torments ? Pleasure, scarcely in one instance, is
ever able to reach ecstasy and rapture : and in no one in
stance can it continue for any time at its highest pitch
and altitude. The spirits evaporate ; the nerves relax;
the fabric is disordered • and the enjoyment quickly de
generates into fatigue and uneasiness. But pain often,
how often ! rises to torture and agony ? and the longer
it continues, it becomes still more genuine agony and
torture. Patience is exhausted; courage languishes ;
melancholy seizes us ; and nothing terminates our
misery but the removal of its cause, or another event,
which is the sole cure of all evil, but which, from our
natural folly, we regard with still greater horror and
consternation.
But not to insist upon these topics, continued Philo,
though most obvious, certain, and important; I must
use the freedom to admonish you, Cleanthes, that you
have put the controversy upon a most dangerous issue,
and are unawares introducing a total Scepticism into the
most essential articles of natural and revealed theology.
�90 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
What! no method of fixing a just foundation for
religion, unless we allow the happiness of human life,
and maintain a continued existence even in this world,
with all our present pains, infirmities, vexations, and
follies, to he eligible and desirable! But this is con
trary to every one’s feeling and experience : It is con
trary to an authority so established as nothing can
subvert. No decisive proofs can ever be produced
against this authority; nor is it possible for you to
compute, estimate, and compare, all the pains and all
the pleasures in the lives of all men and of all animals
and thus by your resting the whole system of religion
on a point, which, from its very nature, must for ever
be uncertain, you tacitly confess, that that system is
equally uncertain.
But allowing you, what never will be believed; at
least, what you never possibly can prove; that animal,
or at least human happiness, in this life, exceeds its
misery; you have yet done nothing : For this is not,
by any means, what we expect from infinite power,
infinite wisdom, and infinite goodness. Why is there
any misery at all in the world 1 Not by chance surely.
From some cause then. Is it from the intention
of the Deity ? But he is perfectly benevolent. Is it
contrary to his intention? But he is almighty.
Nothing can shake the solidity of this reasoning, so
short, so clear, so decisive : except we assert, that these
subjects exceed all human capacity, and that our
common measures of truth and falsehood are not
applicable to them; a topic, which I have all along
insisted on, but which you have from the beginning
rejected with scorn and indignation.
But I will be contented to retire still from this
intrenchment, for I deny that you can ever force me in
it: I will allow, that pain or misery in man is com
patible with infinite power and goodness in the Deity,
even in your sense of these attributes : What are you
advanced by all these concessions? A mere possible
�Part XI.
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■compatibility is not sufficient. You must prove these
pure, unmixed, and uncontrollable attributes from the
present mixed and confused phenomena and from these
alone. A hopeful undertaking ! Were the phenomena
ever so pure and unmixed, yet being finite, they would
be insufficient for that purpose. How much more,
where they are also so jarring and discordant?
Here, Cleanthes, I find myself at ease in my argu
ment. Here I triumph. Formerly, when we argued
concerning the natural attributes of intelligence and
design, I needed all my sceptical and metaphysical
subtlety to elude your grasp. In many views of the
universe, and of its parts, particularly the latter, the
beauty and fitness of final causes strike us with such
irresistible force, that all objections appear (what I
believe they really are) mere cavils and sophisms; nor
can we then imagine how it was ever possible for us to
repose any weight on them. But there is no view of
human life, or of the condition of mankind, from which,
without the greatest violence, we can infer the moral
attributes, or learn that infinite benevolence, conjoined
with infinite power and infinite wisdom, which we must
discover by the eyes of faith alone. It is your turn
now to tug the labouring oar, and to support your
philosophical subtleties against the dictates of plain
reason and experience.
PAET XI.
I
scruple not to allow, said Cleanthes, that I have
been apt to suspect the frequent repetition of the word
infinite, which we meet with in all theological writers,
to savour more of panegyric than of philosophy; and
that any purposes of reasoning, and even of religion,
would be better served, were we to rest contented with
more accurate and more moderate expressions. The
�92 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
terms admirable, excellent, superlatively great, wise,
and holy; these sufficiently fill the imaginations of
men; and anything beyond, besides that it leads into
absurdities, has no influence on the affections or senti
ments. Thus, in the present subject, if we abandon all
human analogy, as seems your intention, Demea, I am
afraid we abandon all religion, and retain no conception
of the great object of our adoration. If we preserve
human analogy, we must for ever find it impossible to
reconcile any mixture of evil in the universe with
infinite attributes ; much less can we ever prove the
latter from the former. But supposing the Author of
Nature to be finitely perfect, though far exceeding
mankind ; a satisfactory account may then be given of
natural and moral evil, and every untoward phenome
non be explained and adjusted. A less evil may then
be chosen, in order to avoid a greater: Inconveniencies be submitted to, in order to reach a desirable
end. And, in a word, benevolence, regulated by
wisdom, and limited by necessity, may produce just
such a world as the present. You, Philo, who are so
prompt at starting views, and reflections, and analogies;
I would gladly hear, at length, without interruption,
your opinion of this new theory • and if it deserve our
attention, we may afterwards, at more leisure, reduce it
into form.
My sentiments, replied Philo, are not worth being
made a mystery of; and therefore, without any cere
mony, I shall deliver what occurs to me with regard to
the present subject. It must, I think, be allowed,
that if a very limited intelligence, whom we shall suppose
utterly unacquainted with the universe, were assured,
that it were the production of a very good, wise, and
powerful Being, however finite, he would, from .his
conjectures, form beforehand a different notion of it
from what we find it to be by experience; nor would
he ever imagine, merely from these attributes of the
cause, of which he is informed, that the effect could be
�Part XI.
93
so full of vice, and misery, and disorder, as it appears
in this life. Supposing now, that this person were
brought into the world, still assured that it was the
workmanship of such a sublime and benevolent Being ;
he might, perhaps, be surprised at the disappointment;
But would never retract his former belief, if founded on
any very solid argument; since such a limited intelli
gence must be sensible of his own blindness and
ignorance, and must allow, that there may be many
solutions of those phenomena, which will for ever
escape his comprehension. But supposing, which is
the real case with regard to man, that' 'this creature is
not antecedently convinced of a supreme intelligence,
benevolent and powerful, but is left to gather such a
belief from the appearances of things; this entirely
alters the case, nor will he ever find any reason for such a
conclusion. He may be fully convinced of the narrow
limits of his understanding ■ but this will not help him
in forming an inference concerning the goodness of
superior powers, since he must form that inference
from what he knows, not from what he is ignorant of.
The more you exaggerate his weakness and ignorance,
the more diffident you render him, and give him the
greater suspicion that such subjects are beyond the reach
of his faculties. You are obliged, therefore, to reason
with him merely from the known phenomena, and to
drop every arbitrary supposition or conjecture.
Bid I show you a house or palace, where there was
not one apartment convenient or agreeable ; where the
windows, doors, fires, passages, stairs, and the whole
economy of the building, were the source of noise, con
fusion, fatigue, darkness, and the extremes of heat and
cold; you would certainly blame the contrivance, with
out any farther examination. The architect would in
vain display his subtlety, and prove to you, that if this
door or that window were altered, greater ills would
ensue. What he says may be strictly true: The
alteration of one particular, while the other parts of the
�94 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
building remain, may only augment the inconveniences.
But still you would assert in general, that, if the archi
tect had had skill and good intentions, he might have
formed such a plan of the whole, and might have
adjusted the parts in such a manner, as would have
remedied all or most of these inconveniences. His
ignorance, or even your own ignorance, of such a plan,
will never convince you of the impossibility of it.
If you find many inconveniencies and deformities in
the building, you will always, without entering into
any detail, condemn the architect.
In short, I repeat the question. Is the world, con
sidered in general, and as it appears to us in this life,
different from what a man, or such a limited being,
would, beforehand, expect from a very powerful, wise,
and benevolent Deity ? It must be strange prejudice to
assert the contrary. And from thence I conclude, that,
however consistent the world may be, allowing certain
suppositions and conjectures, with the idea of such a
Deity, it can never afford us an inference concerning his
existence. The consistence is not absolutely denied,
only the inference.
Conjectures, especially where
infinity is excluded from the divine attributes, may
perhaps, be sufficient to prove a consistence; but can
never be foundations for any inference.
There seem to be four circumstances, on which
depend all, or the greatest part of the ills, that molest
sensible creatures j and it is not impossible but all these
circumstances may be necessary and unavoidable. We
know so little beyond common life, or even of common
life, that, with regard to the economy of a universe,
there is no conjecture, however wild, which may not be
just; nor any one, however plausible, which may not be
erroneous. All that belongs to human understanding,
in this deep ignorance and obscurity, is to be sceptical,
or at least cautious; and not to admit of any hypothesis
whatever; much less, of any which is supported by no
appearance of probability. Now, this I assert to be the
�Part XI.
95
case with regard, to all the causes of evil, and the cir
cumstances on which it depends.
None of them
appear to human reason, in the least degree, necessary
or unavoidable; nor can we suppose them such, without
the utmost license of imagination.
The first circumstance which introduces evil, is that
contrivance or economy of the animal creation, by
which pains, as well as pleasures, are employed to
excite all creatures to action, and make them vigilant
in the great work of self-preservation. Now pleasure
alone, in its various degrees, seems to human understanding sufficient for this purpose. All animals might
be constantly in a state of enjoyment; but when urged
by any of the necessities of nature, such as thirst,
hunger, weariness; instead of pain, they might feel
a diminution of pleasure, by which they might be
prompted to seek that object which is necessary to
their subsistence. Men who pursue pleasure as
eagerly as they avoid pain ; at least, might have been
so constituted. It seems, therefore, plainly possible
to carry on the business of life without any pain.
Why then is any animal ever rendered susceptible of
such a sensation 1 If animals can be free from it an
hour, they might enjoy a perpetual exemption from
it • and it required as particular a contrivance of their
organs to produce that feeling, as to endow them with
sight, hearing, or any of the senses. Shall we con
jecture that such a contrivance was necessary, without
any appearance of reason ? and shall we build on that
conjecture, as on the most certain truth ?
But a capacity of pain would not alone produce,
pain, were it not for the second circumstance, viz., the
conducting of the world by general laws; and this
seems nowise necessary to a very perfect Being. It is
true ; if everything were conducted by particular voli
tions, the course of nature would be perpetually
broken, and no man could employ his reason in the
conduct of life. But might not other particular voliG
�g6 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
tions remedy this inconvenience ? In short, might
not the Deity exterminate all ill, wherever it were to
be found ; and produce all good, without any prepara
tion or long progress of causes and effects ?
Besides, we must consider, that, according to the
present economy of the world, the course of nature,
though supposed exactly regular, yet to us appears
not so, and many events are uncertain, and many dis
appoint our expectations. Health and sickness, calm
and tempest, with an infinite number of other accidents,
whose causes are unknown and variable, have a great
influence both on the fortunes of particular persons,
and on the prosperity of public societies ; and indeed
all human life, in a manner, depends on such accidents.
A being, therefore, who knows the secret springs of
the universe, might easily, by particular volitions,
turn all these accidents to the good of mankind, and
render the whole world happy, without discovering
himself in any operation. A fleet, whose purposes
were salutary to society, might always meet with a
fair wind; good princes enjoy sound health and long
life; persons born to power and authority, be framed
with good tempers and virtuous dispositions. A few
such events as these, regularly and wisely conducted,
would change the face of the world, and yet would no
more seem to disturb the course of nature, or confound
human conduct, than the present economy of things,
where the causes are secret, and variable, and com
pounded. Some small touches given to Caligula’s
brain in his infancy, might Lave converted him into
a Trajan; one wave, a little higher than the rest, by
burying Caesar and his fortune in the bottom of the
ocean, might have restored liberty to a considerable
part of mankind. There may, for aught we know, be
good reasons, why Providence interposes not in this
manner; but they are unknown to us; and though
the mere supposition, that such reasons exist, may be
sufficient to save the conclusion concerning the divine
�Part XI.
97
attributes, yet surely it can never be sufficient to
establish that conclusion.
If everything in the universe be conducted by
general laws, and if animals be rendered susceptible of
pain, it scarcely seems possible but some ill must arise
in the various shocks of matter, and the various con
currence and opposition of general laws. But this ill
would be very rare, were it not for the third circum
stance, which I proposed to mention, viz., the great
frugality with which all powers and faculties are dis
tributed to every particular being. So well adjusted
are the organs and capacities of all animals, and so
well fitted to their preservation, that, as far as history
or tradition reaches, there appears not to be any single
species which has yet been extinguished in the
universe.* Every animal has the requisite endow
ments ; but these endowments are bestowed with so
scrupulous an economy, that any considerable diminu
tion must entirely destroy the creature. Wherever
one power is increased, there is a proportional abate
ment in the others, Animals, which excel in swift* Here Hume was quite in error, and consequently made an
admission against himself by thinking that no race of animals has
ever become extinct. The truth is that the very reverse is the.
case. A whole animal and vegetable creation have become
extinct, as the fossil remains of gigantic animals and gigantic
trees abundantly testify. Even tropical climates in parts of the
earth have been, as it were, extinguished, and their places
occupied in some cases by arctic, and in others by temperate
climates. It was probably a change of climate which came on
in places whence the now extinct animals could not get away,
that caused their destruction. At Maidstone, in England, there
have been found the fossil remains of a ’ saurian reptile, called
iguanodon. From these remains naturalists have calculated that
the animal was seventy feet (or more) in length. Therefore these
facts strengthen Hume’s position. They shew at least that this
part of creation is imperfect. They shew that the present order
of things on earth may be as mortal and perishable as that which
preceded it. The fossil remains of the human race may prove a
puzzle to a superior order of animals four hundred thousand years
hence.
But in the days of Hume, geology was not among the sciences
then known. Fossils were an insoluble riddle. It was not until
a long time after Hume’s death, and after the pioneers of
�98 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
ness, are commonly defective in force. Those which
possess both, are either imperfect in some of their
senses, or are oppressed with the most craving wants.
The human species, whose chief excellency is reason
and sagacity, is of all others the most necessitous, and
the most deficient in bodily advantages; without
clothes, without arms, without food, without lodging,
without any convenience of life, except what they owe
to their own skill and industry. In short, nature
seems to have formed an exact calculation of the
necessities of her creatures; and, like a rigid master,
has afforded them little more powers or endowments
than what are strictly sufficient to supply those
necessities. An indulgent parent would have bestowed
a large stock, in order to guard against accidents, and
secure the happiness and welfare of the creature in the
most unfortunate concurrence of circumstances. Every
course of life would not have been so surrounded with
precipices, that the least departure from the true path,
by mistake or necessity, must involve us in misery and
ruin. Some reserve, some fund, would have been
provided to ensure happiness; nor would the powers
and the necessities have been adjusted with so rigid
an economy. The author of nature is inconceivably
• powerful; his force is supposed great, if not altogether
inexhaustible: nor is there any reason, as far as we
can judge, to make him observe this strict frugality in
Geology had groped and lost their way through numbers of
Noachian, and other equally absurd theories by which they tried
to account for the origin and existence of fossil organisms, that
the true theories of geological science were discovered.
There is scarcely any thing in the history of human enlighten
ment, that is more strange and interesting than the steady advance
and triumph of scientific geology over the fables of the Hebrew
and other nonsensical cosmogonies. Only at rare intervals, and
in remote corners of civilization, can there be found even a
Christian priest who has the stupidity, ignorance, and audacity
to question the completeness of this triumph. Religion has fre
quently led men astray, when seeking moral and scientific Truth ;
but religion has never taught men anything worth knowing,
except the knowledge of its own immorality and worthlessness.
�Part XI.
99
his dealings with his creatures. It would have been
better, were his power extremely limited, to have
created fewer animals, and to have endowed these with
more faculties for their happiness and preservation.
A builder is never esteemed prudent, who undertakes
a plan beyond what his stock will enable him to
finish.
In order to cure most of the ills of human life, I
require not that man should have the wings of the
eagle, the swiftness of the stag, the force of the ox,
the arms of the lion, the scales of the crocodile or
rhinoceros ; much less do I demand the sagacity of an
angel or cherubim. I am contented to take an increase
in one single power or faculty of his soul. Let him be
endowed with a greater propensity to industry and
labour ; a more vigorous spring and activity of mind;
a more constant bent to business and application.
Let the whole species possess naturally an equal
diligence with that which many individuals are able
to attain by habit and reflection; and the most bene
ficial consequences, without any alloy of ill, is the
immediate and necessary result of this endowment.
Almost all the moral, as well as natural evils of human
life arise from idleness ; and were our species, by the
original constitution of their frame, exempt from this
vice or infirmity, the perfect cultivation of land, the
improvement of arts and manufactures, the exact
execution of every office and duty, immediately follow ;
and men at once may fully reach that state of society,
which is so imperfectly attained by the best regulated
government. But as industry is a power, and the
most valuable of any, nature seems determined, suitably
to her usual maxims, to bestow it on men with a very
sparing hand; and rather to punish him severely for
his deficiency in it, than to reward him for his attain
ments. She has so contrived his frame, that nothing
but the most violent necessity can oblige him to
labour; and she employs all his other wants to over-
�ioo Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
come, at least in part, the want of diligence, and to
endow him with some share of a faculty of which she
has thought fit naturally to bereave him. Here our
demands may be allowed very humble, and therefore
the more reasonable. If we required the endowments
of superior penetration and judgment, of a more
delicate taste of beauty, of a nicer sensibility to bene
volence and friendship; we might be told, that we
impiously pretend to break the order of nature; that
we want to exalt ourselves into a higher rank of
being; that the presents which we require, not being
suitable to our state and condition, would only be
pernicious to us. But it is hard ; I dare to repeat it,
it is hard, that being placed in a world so full of wants
and necessities, where almost every being and element
is either our foe, or refuses its assistance . . . we
should also have our own temper to struggle with, and
should be deprived of that faculty which can alone
fence against these multiplied evils.
The fourth circumstance, whence arises the misery
and ill of the universe, is the inaccurate workmanship
of all the springs and principles of the great machine of
nature. It must be acknowledged, that there are few
parts of the universe, which seem not to serve some
purpose, and whose removal would not produce a visible
defect and disorder in the whole. The parts hang all
together ; nor can one be touched without affecting the
rest, in a greater or less degree. But at the same time,
it must be observed, that none of these parts or prin
ciples, however useful, are so accurately adjusted, as to
keep precisely within those bounds in which their
utility consists ; but they are, all of them, apt, on every
occasion, to run into the one extreme or the other.
One would imagine, that this grand production had not
received the last hand of the maker; so little finished is
every part, and so coarse are the strokes with which it is
executed. Thus, the winds are requisite to convey the
vapours along the surface of the globe, and to assist
�Part XI.
IOI
Bien in navigation : bnt how oft, rising up to tempests
and hurricanes, do they become pernicious ? Rains are
necessary to nourish all the plants and animals of the
earth: but how often are they defective, how often ex
cessive ? Heat is requisite to all life and vegetation; but
is not always found in the due proportion. On the mix
ture and secretion of the humours and juices of the body
depend the health and prosperity of the animal: but the
parts perform not regularly their proper function. What
more useful than all the passions of the mind, ambition,
vanity, love, anger ? But how oft do they break their
bounds, and cause the greatest convulsions in society 1
There is nothing so advantageous in the universe, but
what frequently becomes pernicious, by its excess or
defect; nor has Nature guarded, with the requisite
accuracy, against all disorder or confusion. The irregu
larity is never, perhaps, so great as to destroy any
species; * but is often sufficient to involve the in
dividuals in ruin and misery.
On the concurrence, then, of these four circumstances,
does all or the greatest part of natural evil depend.
Were all living creatures incapable of pain, or were the
world administered by particular volitions, evil never
could have found access into the universe : and were ani
mals endowed with a large stock of powers and faculties,
beyond what strict necessity requires; or were the
several springs and principles of the universe so accur
ately framed as to preserve always the just temperament
and medium; there must have been very little ill in
comparison of what we feel at present. What then
shall we pronounce on this occasion ? Shall we say,
that these circumstances are not necessary, and that
they might easily have been altered in the contrivance
of the universe ? This decision seems too presump
tuous for creatures so blind and ignorant. Let us be
more modest in our conclusions. Let us allow, that if
the goodness of the deity (I mean a goodness like the
* See the Note at page 97.
�102 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
human) could be established on any tolerable reasons a
priori, these phenomena, however untoward, would not
be sufficient to subvert that principle; but might easily,
in some unknown manner, be reconcilable to it. But
let us still assert, that as this goodness is not antece
dently established, but must be inferred from the phe
nomena, there can be no grounds for such an inference,
while there are so many ills in the universe, and while
these ills might so easily have been remedied, as far as
human understanding can be allowed to judge on such
a subject. I am sceptic enough to allow, that the bad
appearances, notwithstanding all my reasonings, may
be compatible with such attributes as you suppose :
But surely they can never prove these attributes. Such
a conclusion cannot result from scepticism; but must
arise from the phenomena, and from our confidence in
the reasonings which we deduce from these phenomena.
Look round this universe. What an immense pro
fusion of beings, animated and organized, sensible and
active 1 You admire this prodigious variety and
fecundity. But inspect a little more narrowly these
living existences, the only beings worth regarding.
How hostile and destructive to each other! How
insufficient all of them for their own happiness I How
contemptible or odious to the spectator 1 The whole
presents nothing but the idea of a blind Nature,
impregnated by a great vivifying principle, and pouring
forth from her lap, without discernment or parental
care, her maimed and abortive children.*
Here the Manichaean system occurs as a proper
hypothesis to solve the difficulty : and no doubt, in
some respects, it is very specious, and has more probabil
ity than the common hypothesis, by giving a plausible
account of the strange mixture of good and ill which
* “As is the race of leaves, even such is the race of men.
Leaves, some indeed the wind sheds on the ground, but the bud
ding wood produces others when the season of spring comes on ;
thus does the race of men, one produce, another cease [produc
ing].”—Iliad vi. 146-9.
�Part XL
Io3
appears in life. But if we consider, on the other hand,
the perfect uniformity and agreement of the parts of
the universe, we shall not discover in it any marks of
the combat of a malevolent with a benevolent being.
There is indeed an opposition of pains and pleasures
in the feelings of sensible creatures : but are not all
the operations of Nature carried on by an opposition of
principles, of hot and cold, moist and dry, light and
heavy? The true conclusion is, that the original
Source of all things is entirely indifferent to all these
principles ; and has no more regard to good above ill,
than to heat above cold, or to drought above moisture,
or to light above heavy*
There may four hypotheses be framed concerning the
first causes of the universe : that they are endowed
with perfect goodness ; that they have perfect malice ;
that they are opposite, and have both goodness and
malice; that they have neither goodness nor malice.
Mixed phenomena can never prove the two former un
mixed principles. And the uniformity and steadiness of
general laws seem to oppose the third. The fourth,
therefore, seems by far the most probable.
What I have said concerning natural evil will apply
to moral, with little or no variation; and we have no
more reason to infer, that the rectitude of the Supreme
Being resembles human rectitude, than that his
benevolence resembles the human. Nay, it will be
thought, that we have still greater cause to exclude
from him moral sentiments, such as we feel them;
since moral evil, in the opinion of many, is much more
predominant above moral good than natural evil
above natural good.
* A remarkable passage in Tacitus (Annals xvi. 33,) contains a
similar idea. He says, “ The same day furnished a bright ex
ample of virtue in the person of Cassus Asclepiodotus, a man con
spicuous among the Bithynians for the extent of his wealth, who
continued to treat Soranus in his decline with the same respect he
had constantly shewn him in the meridian of his fortune. The
consequence was, that he was stripped of all his property and
driven into exile: thus exemplifying the indifference of the Gods
towards patterns of virtue and of vice ! ”
�104 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
But even though, this should not he allowed; and
though the virtue, which is in mankind, should be
acknowledged much superior to the vice; yet so long
as there is any vice at all in the universe, it will very
much puzzle you Anthropomorphites, how to account for
it. You must assign a cause for it, without having
recourse to the first cause. But as every effect must have
a cause, and that cause another; you must either carry
on the progression in infinitum, or rest on that
original principle, who is the ultimate cause of all
things.............
Hold ! Hold! cried Demea: Whither does your
imagination hurry you ? I joined in alliance with you,
in order to prove the incomprehensible nature of the
Divine Being, and refute the principles of Cleanthes,
who would measure everything by a human rule and
standard. But I now find you running into all the
topics of the greatest libertines and infidels; and
betraying that holy cause, which you seemingly
espoused. Are you secretly, then, a more dangerous
enemy than Cleanthes himself ?
And are you so late in perceiving it 1 replied
Cleanthes. Believe me, Demea; your friend Philo,
from the beginning, has been amusing himself at both
our expense; and it must be confessed, that the
injudicious reasoning of our vulgar theology has
given him but too just a handle of ridicule. The
total infirmity of human reason, the absolute incom
prehensibility of the Divine Nature, the great and
universal misery and still greater wickedness of
men; these are strange topics, surely, to be so
fondly cherished by orthodox divines and doctors. In
ages of stupidity and ignorance, indeed, these
principles may safely be espoused; and, perhaps, no
views of things are more proper to promote
superstition, than such as encourage the blind amaze
ment, the diffidence, and melancholy of mankind.
But at present ....
�Part Xll.
105
Blame not so much, interposed Philo, the ignorance
of these reverend gentlemen. They know how to
change their style with the times. Formerly it was a
most popular theological topic to maintain, that human
life was vanity and misery, and to exaggerate all the
ills and pains which are incident to men. But of late
years, divines, we find, begin to retract this position ;
and maintain, though still with some hesitation, that
there are more goods than evils, more pleasures than,
pains, even in this life. When religion stood entirely
upon temper and education, it was thought proper to
encourage melancholy; as indeed, mankind never have
recourse to superior powers so readily as in that dis
position. But as men have now learned to form
principles, and to draw consequences, it is necessary to
change the batteries, and to make use of such argu
ments as will endure at least some scrutiny and
examination. This variation is the same (and from the
same causes) with that which 1 formerly remarked
with regard to Scepticism.
Thus Philo continued to the last his spirit of
opposition, and his censure of established opinions.
But I could observe, that Demea did not at all relish
the latter part of the discourse; and he took occasion
soon after, on some pretence or other, to leave the
company.
PART XII.
After Demea’s departure, Cleanthes and Philo con
tinued the conversation in the following manner. Our
friend, I am afraid, said Cleanthes, will have little
inclination to revive this topic of discourse, while you
are in company; and to tell truth, Philo, I should rather
wish to reason with either of you apart on a subject so
sublime and interesting. Your spirit of controversy,
�io6 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
joined to your abhorrence of vulgar superstition, carries
you strange lengths, when engaged in an argument;
and there is nothing so sacred and venerable, even in
your own eyes, which you spare on that occasion.
I must confess, replied Philo, that I am less cautious
on the subject of Natural Religion than on any other;
both because I know that I can never, on that head,
corrupt the principles of any man of common sense;
and because no one, I am confident, in whose eyes I
appear a man of common sense, will ever mistake my
intentions. You in particular, Cleanthes, with whom
I live in unreserved intimacy; you are sensible, that not
withstanding the freedom of my conversation, and my
love of singular arguments, no one has a deeper sense
of religion impressed on his mind, or pays more profound
adoration to the Divine Being, as he discovers himself
to reason, in the inexplicable contrivance and artifice
of Nature. A purpose, an intention, a design, strikes
everywhere the most careless, the most stupid thinker;
and no man can be so hardened in absurd systems, as
at all times to reject it. That Nature does nothing in
vain, is a maxim established in all the schools, merely
from the contemplation of the works of Nature, without
any religious purpose; and, from a firm conviction of
its truth, an anatomist, who had observed a new organ
or canal, would never be satisfied till he had also dis
covered its use and intention. One great foundation of
the Copernican system is the maxim, That Nature acts
by the simplest methods, and chooses the most proper
means to any end; and astronomers often, without
thinking of it, lay this strong foundation of piety and
religion. The same thing is observable in other parts
of philosophy; And thus all the sciences almost lead
us insensibly to acknowledge a first intelligent Author;
and their authority is often so much the greater, as they
do not directly profess that intention.
It is with pleasure I hear Galen reason concerning
the structure of the human body. The anatomy of a
�Part XII.
1O7
man, says he, * discovers above 600 different muscles ;
and whoever duly considers these, will find, that in
each of them Nature must have adjusted at least ten
different circumstances, in order to attain the end which
she proposed; proper figure, j ust magnitude, right
disposition of the several ends, upper and lower position
of the whole, the due insertion of the several nerves,
veins, and arteries: So that, in the muscles alone, above
6000 several views and intentions must have been
formed and executed. The bones he calculates to be
284 : The distinct purposes, aimed at in the structure
of each, above forty. What a prodigious display of
artifice, even in these simple and homogeneous parts ?
But if we consider the skin, ligaments, vessels, glandules,
humours, the several limbs and members of the body;
how must our astonishment rise upon us, in proportion
to the number and intricacy of the parts so artificially
adjusted 1 The farther we advance in these researches,
we discover new scenes of art and wisdom: But descry
still, at a distance, farther scenes beyond our reach ; in
the fine internal structure of the parts, in the economy
of the brain, in the fabric of the seminal vessels. All
these artifices are repeated in every different species of
animal, with wonderful variety, and with exact propriety
suited to the different intentions of Nature in fra,mi ng
each species. And if the infidelity of Galen, even when
these natural sciences were still imperfect, could not
withstand such striking appearances • to what pitch of
pertinacious obstinacy must a philosopher in this age
have attained, who can now doubt of a Supreme
Intelligence ? f
* De formations foetus.
t Without denying the truth of what Hume says here, to the effect,
that the human frame shews clear and unmistakable proofs of
design ; yet it is doubtful whether his eminently philosophical mind
would have allowed him to state the fact in such very decided
terms as these, if he had been acquainted with even a glimpse of
the evolution theory. But Oken was not born until three years
after Hume’s death. And Darwin’s “Descent of Man” was not
published until more than a century after Hume had ceased to
�io8 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
Could I meet with one of this species, I would ask
him: Supposing there were a God, who did not dis
cover himself immediately to our senses; were it
possible for him to give stronger proofs of his exist
ence, than what appear on the whole face of nature ?
What indeed could such a divine being do but copy
the present economy of things ; render many of his
artifices so plain, that no stupidity could mistake
them; afford glimpses of still greater artifices, which
demonstrate his prodigious superiority above our
narrow apprehensions; and conceal altogether a great
many from such imperfect creatures? Now, according
to all rules of just reasoning, every fact must pass for
undisputed, when it is supported by all the arguments
write. Oken and his followers discovered that the skull and limbs
of vertebrate animals are merely modified forms. And Darwin
discovered that the human animal is merely a development from an
inferior one. Oken has left on record how the light first dawned
on his mind ; and a knowledge of the circumstance is of importance
to the thinker.
In August 1806, while Oken was among the Hartz mountains, he
unexpectedly saw the well-preserved skull of a hind. From the
appearance which the skull accidentally presented to him, he
exclaimed “ a vertebral column ! ” This was a piece of reasoning
a priori. Nevertheless, by thinking over this suggestion he
ultimately discovered that, in all vertebrate animals, the bones of the
skull are only modified vertebrae.
Perhaps he who thinks on Probability will perceive that although
arguments grounded on a priori reasoning are utterly barren of
proof and consequently of result, yet, so far as we know, all the
important discoveries, hitherto made, have been generated from
suggestions arising from a priori considerations. “ Nature does
nothing in vain.” As yet, it is on such suggestions that the
evolution theory is grounded. From considerations such as this
the true thinker will be on his guard, and will not give way to that
prevalent weakness of the human mind, when, upon a comparison
of two important things relating to the same subject, one is found
to be of less importance than the other,To consider the less important
as_ of scarcely any value whatever. “ The Cyclic Poems ” are a
fair sample of an important matter which was despised unphilosophically. During twenty-one centuries they were regarded as
nearly beneath contempt. Yet from Mr F. A. Paley’s “ Introduction ”
to his first volume of the Iliad, we know, in his skilful hands,
how almost invaluable the remains of the “ Cyclic Poems ” proved
towards ascertaining the correct date of our “ Homer.”
�Part XII.
109
which, its nature admits of; even though these
arguments be not, in themselves, very numerous or
forcible. How much more, in the present case, where
no human imagination can compute their number,
and no understanding estimate their cogency ?
I shall farther add, said Cleanthes, to what you
have so well urged, that one great advantage of the
principle of theism, is, that it is the only system of
cosmogony which can be rendered intelligible and
complete, and yet can throughout preserve a strong
analogy to what we every day see and experience in
the world. The comparison of the universe to a
machine of human contrivance, is so obvious and
natural, and is justified by so many instances of order
and design in nature, that it must immediately strike
all unprejudiced apprehensions, and procure universal
approbation. Whoever attempts to weaken this theory,
cannot pretend to succeed by establishing in its place
any other that is precise and determinate. It is
sufficient for him, if he start doubts and difficulties,
and by remote and abstract views of things, reach
that suspense of judgment, which is here the utmost
boundary of his wishes. But besides that this state
of mind is in itself unsatisfactory, it can never be
steadily maintained against such striking appearances
as continually engage us into the religious hypothesis.
From the force of prejudice, human nature is capable
of adhering, with obstinacy and perseverance, to a false
absurd system. But I think it absolutely impossible,
by valid argument, to maintain or defend any system
at all, inculcated by natural propensity and by early
education, in opposition to a theory supported by
strong and obvious reason.
So little, replied Philo, do I esteem this suspense
of judgment in the present case to be possible, that
I am apt to suspect there enters somewhat of a dispute
of words into this controversy, more than is usually
imagined. That the works of nature bear a great
analogy to the productions of art, is evident; and
�11 o Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
according to all the rules of good reasoning, we ought
to infer, if we argue at all concerning them, that their
causes have a proportional analogy. But as there are
also considerable differences, we have reason to suppose
a proportional difference in the causes, and in par
ticular ought to attribute a much higher degree of
power and energy to the supreme cause, than any we
have ever observed in mankind. Here then the
existence of a Deity is plainly ascertained by reason;
and if we make it a question, whether on account of
these analogies, we can properly call him a mind or
intelligence, notwithstanding the vast difference which
may reasonably be supposed between him and human
minds ; what is this but a mere verbal controversy ?
No man can deny the analogies between the effects.
To restrain ourselves from inquiring concerning the
causes, is scarcely possible. From this inquiry, the
legitimate conclusion is, that the causes have also an
analogy, and if we are not contented with calling the
first and supreme cause a God or Deity, but desire to
vary the expression ; what can we call him but Mind
or Thought, to which he is justly supposed to bear a
considerable resemblance ?
All men of sound reason are disgusted with verbal
disputes, which abound so much in philosophical and
theological inquiries ; and it is found, that the only
remedy for this abuse must arise from clear definitions,
from the precision of those ideas which enter into any
argument, and from the strict and uniform use of
those terms which are employed. But there is a
species of controversy, which, from the very nature
of language and of human ideas, is involved in
perpetual ambiguity, and can never, by any precaution
or any definitions, be able to reach a reasonable
certainty or precision. These are the controversies
concerning the degrees of any quality or circumstance.
Men may argue to all eternity, whether Hannibal be
a great, or a very great, or a superlatively great man;
�Part XII.
111
what degree of beauty Cleopatra possessed; what
epithet of praise Livy or Thucidydes is entitled to,
without bringing the controversy to any determination.
The disputants may here agree in their sense, and
differ in the terms, or vice versa ; yet never be able
to define their terms, so as to enter into each other’s
meaning: Because the degrees of these qualities are
not, like quantity or number, susceptible of any exact
mensuration, which may be the standard in the con
troversy. That the dispute concerning theism is of
this nature, and consequently is merely verbal, or
perhaps, if possible, still more incurably ambiguous,
will appear upon the slightest inquiry. I ask the
theist if he does not allow, that there is a great
and immeasurable, because incomprehensible, difference
between the human and the divine mind. The more
pious he is, the more readily will he assent to the
affirmative, and the more will he be disposed to
magnify the difference. He will even assert that the
difference is of a nature which cannot be too much
magnified. I next turn to the atheist, who, I assert,
is only nominally so, and can never possibly be in
earnest; and I ask him, whether, from the coherence
and apparent sympathy in all the parts of this world,
there be not a certain degree of analogy among all the
operations of nature, in every situation and in every
age, whether the rotting of a turnip, the generation of
an animal, and the structure of human thought, be
not energies that probably bear some remote analogy
to each other. It is impossible he can deny it. He
will readily acknowledge it. Having obtained this
concession, I push him still farther in his retreat; and
I ask him, if it be not probable, that the principle
which first arranged, and still maintains, order in this
universe, bears not also some remote inconceivable
analogy to the other operations of nature, and among
the rest to the economy of human mind and thought.
However reluctant, he must give his assent. Where
H
�112 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
then, cry I to both these antagonists, is the subject
of your dispute ? The Theist allows that the original
intelligence is very different from human reason. The
atheist allows, that the original principle of order bears
some remote analogy to it. Will you quarrel, gentle
men, about the degrees ; and enter into a controversy
which admits not of any precise meaning, nor conse
quently of any determination ? If you should be so
obstinate, I should not be surprised to find you
insensibly change sides; while the theist, on the one
hand exaggerates the dissimilarity between the supreme
Being, and frail, imperfect, variable, fleeting, and
mortal creatures; and the atheist, on the other, magni
fies the analogy among all the operations of nature,
in every period, every situation, and every position.
Consider then, where the real point of controversy lies,
and if you cannot lay aside your disputes, endeavour,
at least, to cure yourselves of your animosity.
And here I must also acknowledge, Cleanthes, that,
as the works of Nature have a much greater analogy to
the effects of our art and contrivance, than to those of
our benevolence and j ustice ; we have reason to infer,
that the natural attributes of the Deity have a greater
resemblance to’those of men, than his moral have to
human virtues. But what is the consequence ?
Nothing but this, that the moral qualities of man are
more defective in their kind than his natural abilities.
For as the Supreme Being is allowed to be absolutely
and entirely perfect; whatever differs most from him,
departs the farthest from the supreme standard of recti
tude and perfection.*
* It seems evident, that the dispute between the Sceptics and
Dogmatists is entirely verbal; or at least regards only the degrees
of doubt and assurance, which we ought to indulge with regard to all
reasoning : and such disputes are commonly, at the bottom, verbal,
and admit not of any precise determination. No philosophical
Dogmatist denies, that there are difficulties both with regard to
the senses and to all science ; and that these difficulties are in a
regular, logical method, absolutely insolvable. No Sceptic denies
�Part XII.
1T3
These, Cleanthes, are my unfeigned sentiments on
this subject; and these sentiments, you know, I have
ever cherished and maintained. But in proportion to
my veneration for true religion, is my abhorrence of
vulgar superstitions ; and I indulge a peculiar pleasure,
I confess, in pushing such principles, sometimes into
absurdity, sometimes into impiety.
And you are
sensible, that all bigots, notwithstanding their great
aversion to the latter above the former, are commonly
equally guilty of both.
My inclination, replied Cleanthes, lies, I own, a con
trary way. Religion, however corrupted, is still better
than no religion at all. The doctrine of a future state
is so strong and necessary a security to morals, that we
never ought to abandon or neglect it. For if finite and
temporary rewards and punishments have so great an
effect, as we daily find: how much greater must be
expected from such as are infinite and eternal ?
How happens it then, said Philo, if vulgar super
stition be so salutary to society, that all history
abounds so much with accounts of its pernicious
consequences on public affairs ? Factions, civil wars, •
persecutions, subversions of government, oppression,
slavery ; these are the dismal consequences which always
attend its prevalency over the minds of men. If the
religious spirit be ever mentioned in any historical
narration, we are sure to meet afterwards with a detail
of the miseries which attend it. And no period of time
can be happier or more prosperous, than those in which
it is never regarded or heard of.
The reason of this observation, replied Cleanthes, is
obvious. The proper office of religion is to regulate
that we lie under an absolute necessity, notwithstanding these
difficulties, of thinking, and believing, and reasoning, with regard
to all kinds of subjects, and even of frequently assenting with
confidence and security. The only difference, then, between these
facts, if they merit that name, is, that the Sceptic, from habit,
caprice, or inclination, insists most on the difficulties; the Dog
matist, for like reasons, on the necessity.
�114 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
*
the heart of men, humanize their conduct, infuse the
spirit of temperance, order, and obedience : and as its
operation is silent, and only enforces the motives of
morality and justice, it is in danger of being overlooked,
and confounded with these other motives. When it
distinguishes itself, and acts as a separate principle
oyer men, it has departed from its proper sphere, and
has become only a cover to faction and ambition.
And so will all religion, said Philo, except the
philosophical and rational kind. Your reasonings are
more easily eluded than my facts. The inference is
not just, because finite and temporary rewards and
punishments have so great influence, that therefore
such as are infinite and eternal must have so much
greater.
Consider, I beseech you, the attachment
which we have to present things, and the little concern
which we discover for objects so remote and uncertain.
When divines are declaiming against the common be
haviour and conduct of the world, they always represent
this principle as the strongest imaginable, (which
indeed it is); and {describe almost all human kind as
lying under the influence of it, and sunk into the deepest
lethargy and unconcern about their religious interests.
Yet these same divines, when they refute their specu
lative antagonists, suppose the motives of religion to
be so powerful, that, without them, it were impossible
for civil society to subsist; nor are they ashamed of so
palpable a contradiction. It is certain, from experience,
that the smallest grain of natural honesty and benevo
lence has more effect on men’s conduct, than the most
pompous views suggested by theological theories and
systems. A man’s natural inclination works incessantly
upon him ; it is for ever present to the mind; and
■ mingles itself with every view and consideration :
whereas religious motives, where they act at all, operate
only by starts and bounds ; and it is scarcely possible
4'or them to become altogether habitual to the mind.
The force of the greatest gravity, say the philosophers,
�Part XII.
JI5
is infinitely small, in comparison of that of the least
impulse : yet it is certain, that the smallest gravity will,
in the end, prevail above a great impulse ; because no
strokes or blows can be repeated with such constancy
as attraction and gravitation.
Another advantage of inclination : it engages on its
side all the wit and ingenuity of the mind : and when
get in opposition to religious principles, seeks every
method and art of eluding them : in which it is almost
always successful. Who can explain the heart of man,
or account for those strange salvos and excuses, with
which people satisfy themselves, when they follow their
inclinations in opposition to their religious duty ? This
is well understood in the world; and none but fools
ever repose less trust in a man, because they hear, that,
from study and philosophy, he has entertained some
speculative doubts with regard to theological subjects.
And when we have to do with a man, who makes a
great profession of religion and devotion ; has this any
other effect upon several, who pass for prudent, than
to put them on their guard, lest they be cheated and
deceived by him ?
We must farther consider, that philosophers, who-.
♦
cultivate reason and reflection, stand less in need of
such motives to keep them under the restraint of
morals : and that the vulgar, who alone may need
them, are utterly incapable of so pure a religion as
- *
represents the Deity to be pleased with nothing but
virtue in human behaviour. The recommendations to
the Divinity are generally supposed to be either
frivolous observances, or rapturous ecstasies, or a
bigoted credulity.
We need not run back into
antiquity, or wander into remote regions, to find
instances of this degeneracy. Amongst ourselves, soniehave been guilty of that atrociousness, unknown to the '*
Egyptian and Grecian superstitions, of declaiming, in
express terms, against morality ; and representing it as,
a sure forfeiture of the divine favour, if the least trust
•or reliance be laid upon it.
�116 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
But even though superstition or enthusiasm should
not put itself in direct opposition to morality; the
very diverting of the attention, the raising up a new
and frivolous species of merit, the preposterous distri
bution which it makes of praise and blame, must have
the most pernicious consequences, and weaken ex
tremely men’s attachment to the natural motives of
justice and humanity.
Such a principle of action likewise, not being any of
the familiar motives of human conduct, acts only by
intervals on the temper; and must be roused by
continual efforts, in order to render the pious zealot
satisfied with his own conduct, and make him fulfil
his devotional task. Many religious exercises are entered
into with seeming fervour, where the heart, at the time,
feels cold and languid. A habit of dissimulation is by
degrees contracted: and fraud and falsehood become
the predominant principle. Hence the reason of that
vulgar observation, that the highest zeal in religion
and the deepest hypocrisy, so far from being incon
sistent, are often or commonly united in the same
individual character.
The bad effects of such habits, even in common life, '
are easily imagined : but where the interests of religion
are concerned, no morality can be forcible enough to
bind the enthusiastic zealot. The sacredness of the
cause sanctifies every measure which can be made use
of to promote it.
The steady attention alone to so important an
interest as that of eternal salvation, is apt to extinguish
the benevolent affections, and beget a narrow, con
tracted selfishness. And when such a temper is
encouraged, it easily eludes all the general precepts of
charity and benevolence.
Thus the motives of vulgar superstition have no
great influence on general conduct; nor is their opera
tion very favourable to morality, in the instances where
they predominate.
�Part Xll.
117
Is there any maxim in politics more certain and
infallible, than that both the number and authority of
priests should be confined within very narrow limits;
and that the civil magistrate ought, for ever, to keep
his fasces and axes from such dangerous hands ? But
if the spirit of popular religion were so salutary to
society, a contrary maxim ought to prevail. The
greater number of priests, and their greater authority
and riches, will always augment the religious spirit.
And though the priests have the guidance of this spirit,
why may we not expect a superior sanctity of life, and
greater benevolence and moderation, from persons who
are set apart for religion, who are continually inculcat
ing it upon others, and who must themselves imbibe a
greater share of it ? Whence comes it then, that, in
fact, the utmost a wise magistrate can propose with
regard to popular religions, is, as far as possible, to
make a saving game of it, and to prevent their
pernicious consequences with regard to society ? Every
expedient which he tries for so humble a purpose is
surrounded with inconveniences. If he admits only
one religion among his subjects, he must sacrifice, to
an uncertain prospect of tranquillity, every considera
tion of public liberty, science, reason, industry, and
even his own independency. If he gives indulgence to
several sects, which is the wiser maxim, he must pre
serve a very philosophical indifference to all of them,
and carefully restrain the pretensions of the prevailing
sect; otherwise he can expect nothing but endless
disputes, quarrels, factions, persecutions, and civil
commotions.
True religion, I allow, has no such pernicious con
sequences : but we must treat of religion, as it has
commonly been found in the world ; nor -have I any
thing to do with that speculative tenet of Theism,
which, as it is a species of philosophy, must partake of
the beneficial influence of that principle, and at the
same time must lie under a like inconvenience, of being
always confined to a very few persons.
�118 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
Oaths are requisite in all courts of judicature ; but
it is a question whether their authority arises from any
popular religion. It is the solemnity and importance
of the occasion, the regard to reputation, and the
reflecting on the general interest of society, which are
the chief restraints upon mankind. Custom-house
oaths and political oaths are but little regarded even by
some who pretend to principles of honesty and
religion ; and a Quaker’s asseveration is with us justly
put upon the same footing with the oath of any other
person. I know, that Polybius * ascribes the infamy
of Greek faith to the prevalency of the Epicurean
philosophy : but I know also, that Punic faith had as
bad a reputation in ancient times, as Irish evidence has
in modern ; though we cannot account for these vulgar
observations by the same reason. Not to mention,
that Greek faith was infamous before the rise of the
Epicurean philosophy; and Euripides f, in a passage
which I shall point out to you, has glanced a remark
able stroke of satire against his nation, with regard to
this circumstance.
Take care, Philo, replied Cleanthes, take care : push
not matters too far : allow not your zeal against false
religion to undermine your veneration for the true.
Forfeit not this principle, the chief, the only great
comfort in life; and our principal support amidst all
the attacks of adverse fortune. The most agreeable
reflection, which it is possible for human imagination
to suggest, is that of genuine Theism, which represents
us as the workmanship of a Being perfectly good, wise,
and powerful; who created us for happiness ; and who,
having implanted in us immeasurable desires of good,
will prolong our existence to all eternity, and will trans
fer us into an infinite variety of scenes, in order to satisfy
those desires, and render our felicity complete and
* Lib. vi. cap. 54.
+ Iphigenia in Tauride, 1206.
Triarov 'EXXas ol8ei> ovSev.
“ The Greeks are ignorant of good faith. ”
�Part XII.
119
durable. Next to such a Being himself (if the
comparison be allowed), the happiest lot which we can
imagine, is that of being under his guardianship and
protection.
These appearances, said Philo, are most engaging
and alluring; and with regard to the true philosopher,
they are more than appearances. But it happens here,
as in the former case, that, with regard to the greater
part of mankind, the appearances are deceitful, and that
the terrors of religion commonly prevail above its
comforts.
It is allowed, that men never have recourse to de
votion so readily as when dejected with grief or
depressed with sickness. Is not [this a proof, that the
religious spirit is not so nearly allied to joy as to
sorrow 1
But men, when afflicted, find consolation in religion,
replied Cleanthes. Sometimes, said Philo : but it is
natural to imagine, that they will form a notion of
those unknown beings, suitably to the present gloom
and melancholy of their temper, when they betake
themselves to the contemplation of them. Accordingly,
we find the tremendous images to predominate in all
religions ; and we ourselves, after having employed the
most exalted expression in our descriptions of the Deity,
fall into the flattest contradiction, in affirming, that the
damned are infinitely superior in number to the elect.
I shall venture to affirm, that there never was a
popular religion, which represented the state of
departed souls in such a light, as would render it
eligible for human kind, that there should be such a
state. These fine models of religion are the mere
product of philosophy. Eor as death lies between the
eye and the prospect of futurity, that event is so shock
ing to Nature, that it must throw a gloom on all the
regions which lie beyond it; and suggest to the
generality of mankind the idea of Cerberus and Furies ;
devils, and torrents of fire and brimstone.
�120 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
It is true, both, fear and hope enter into religion ;
because both these passions, at different times, agitate
the human mind, and each of them forms a species of
divinity suitable to itself. But when a man is in a
cheerful disposition, he is fit for business, or company,
or entertainment of any kind; and he naturally
applies himself to these, and thinks not of religion.
When melancholy and dejected, he has nothing to do
but brood upon the terrors of the invisible world, and
to plunge himself still deeper in affliction. It may,
indeed, happen, that after he has, in this manner,
engraved the religious opinions deep into his thought
and imagination, there may arrive a change of health
or circumstances, which may restore his good-humour,
and raising cheerful prospects of futurity, make him
run into the other extreme of joy and triumph. But
still it must be acknowledged, that, as terror is the
primary principle of religion, it is the passion which
always predominates in it, and admits but of short
intervals of pleasure.
Not to mention, that these fits of excessive, enthusi
astic joy, by exhausting the spirits, always prepare the
way for equal fits of superstitious terror and dejection ;
nor is there any state of mind so happy as the calm
and equable. But this state it is impossible to support,
where a man thinks, that he lies, in such profound
darkness and uncertainty, between an eternity of
happiness and an eternity of misery. No wonder, that
such an opinion disjoints the ordinary frame of the
mind, and throws it into the utmost confusion. Ard
though that opinion is seldom so steady in its operation
as to influence all the actions; yet is it apt to make a
considerable breach in the temper, and to produce that
gloom and melancholy so remarkable in all devout people.
It is contrary to common sense to entertain appre
hensions or terrors upon account of any opinion what
soever, or to imagine that we run any risk hereafter, by
the freest use of our reason. Such a sentiment implies
�Part XII.
I2I
both, an absurdity and an inconsistency. It is an
absurdity to believe that the Deity has human passions,
and one of the lowest of human passions, a restless
appetite for applause. It is an inconsistency to believe,
that, since the Deity has this human passion, he has
not others also • and in particular, a disregard to the
opinions of creatures so much inferior.
“ To know God,” says Seneca, “ is to worship him.”
All other worship is indeed absurd, superstitious, and
even impious. It degrades him to the low condition of
mankind, who are delighted with intreaty, solicitation,
presents, and flattery. Yet is this impiety the smallest
of which superstition is guilty. Commonly, it de
presses the Deity far below the condition of mankind;
and represents him as a capricious demon, who exercises
his power without reason and without humanity!
And were that Divine Being disposed to be offended
at the vices and follies of silly mortals, who are his own
workmanship ; ill would it surely fare with the votaries
of most popular superstitions. Nor would any of
human race merit his favour, but a very few, the
philosophical Theists, who entertain, or rather indeed
endeavour to entertain, suitable notions of his divine
perfections : as the only persons, entitled to his com
passion and indulgence, would be the philosophical
Sceptics, a set almost equally rare, who, from a
natural diffidence of their own capacity, suspend, or
endeavour to suspend, all judgment with regard to
such sublime and such extraordinary subjects.
If the whole of Natural Theology, as some' people
seem to maintain, resolves itself into one simple,
though somewhat ambiguous, at least undefined pro
position, That the cause or causes of order in the
universe probably bears some remote analogy to human
intelligence : if this proposition be not capable of ex
tension, variation, or more particular explication : if it
affords no inference that affects human life, or can be
the source of any action or forbearance: and if the
analogy, imperfect as it is, can be carried no farther
�122 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion,,
than to the human intelligence; and cannot be trans
ferred, with any appearance of probability, to the other
qualities of the mind: if this really be the case, what
can the most inquisitive, contemplative, and religious
man do more than give a plain, philosophical assent to
the proposition, as often as it occurs ; and believe that
the arguments on which it is established, exceed the
objections which lie against it ? Some astonishment
indeed will naturally arise from the greatness of the
object; some melancholy from its obscurity; some
contempt of human reason, that it cannot give any
solution more satisfactory with regard to so extraordin
ary and magnificent a question. But, believe me,
Cleanthes, the most natural sentiment, which a welldisposed mind will feel on this occasion, is a longing
desire and expectation that heaven would be pleased to
dissipate, or at least alleviate this profound ignorance
by affording some more particular revelation to man
kind, and making discoveries of the nature, attributes,
and operations of the divine Object of our faith. A
person seized with a just sense of the imperfections of
natural reason, will fly to revealed truth with the
greatest avidity: while the haughty dogmatist, per
suaded that he can erect a complete system of theology
by the mere light of philosophy, disdains any further
aid, and rejects this adventitious instructor. To be a
philosophical sceptic, in a man of letters, is the first and
most essential step towards being a sound, believing
Christian ; a proposition which I will willingly re
commend to the attention of Pamphilus; and I hope
Cleanthes will forgive me for interposing so far in the
education and instruction’of his pupil.
Cleanthes and Philo pursued not this conversation
much further; and as nothing ever made greater
impression on me than all the reasonings of that day;
so, I confess, that upon a serious review of the whole I
cannot but think that Philo’s principles are more
probable than Demea’s ; but that those of Cleanthes
approach still nearer to the truth.
�POSTSCRIPT.
A short account of the “ Dialogues ” will probably be
acceptable to the reader.
It has been stated, in the Preface to this edition of
them, that they were laid in manuscript before Sir
Gilbert Elliott in the year 1751. Hume was most
anxious to publish them, but his friends always dis
suaded him from doing so, knowing how dangerous to
his personal and social peace the experiment might
prove. So, by his will, he appointed his friend Dr.
« -Adam Smith his literary executor, with full power
over all his papers except the “ Dialogues,” which,
however, Dr. Smith was directed to publish. As an
inducement to Dr. Smith to comply with this direction,
Hume added the following clause :—“ Though I can
trust to that intimate and sincere friendship which has
ever subsisted between us for his faithful execution
of this part of my will, yet as a small recompense of
his pains in correcting and publishing this work, I
leave him £200 to be paid immediately after the
publication of it.”
Although there is not the least reason to call in
question the sincerity of the friendship above referred
to, yet Hume foresaw that Dr. Smith would not com
ply with the direction, couched in such affectionate
language, and followed by a substantial legacy; for
by a codicil bearing date the 7 th’ August 1776, only
a few days before Hume’s death, he made the following
provision :—“ I do ordain that if my Dialogues, from
whatever cause, be not published within two years
and a half after my death, as also an account of my
�124 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
life, the property shall return to my nephew, David,
whose duty in publishing them, as the last request of
his uncle, must be approved of by all the world/’
Almost immediately after Hume’s death, his friend,
Dr. Smith, edited the autobiography, “ My own Life,”
alluded to in the codicil; and in a letter addressed to
William Strahan, Esq., dated 9 Nov. 1776, Dr. Smith
gave an account “ of the behaviour of our late excellent
friend, Mr Hume, during his last illness.” That
letter concludes thus :—“ Upon the whole, I have
always considered him, (Hume) both in his lifetime,
and since his death, as approaching as nearly to the
idea of a perfectly wise and virtuous man, as perhaps
the nature of human frailty will permit.” But Dr.
Smith was afraid to publish the “ Dialogues,” and,
although both they and the legacy of <£200 were
offered to him independently of any condition that
might be implied in the terms of the bequest, he
refused both. So it was left to be seen what “ my
nephew, David,” would do.
This David Hume was an advocate at the Scotch
bar, and subsequently a baron in the Court of
Exchequer. He was a true Christian, a very bad
writer, a staunch supporter of terrorism, and a bigoted
upholder of all the arbitrary oppressions exercised by
the English government during the period from 1793
to 1830. He was very unwilling to publish the
“ Dialogues.” However, in the year 1779, he printed
them, but without the name of any publisher, printer,
or even place of printing attached to the volume. The
editor has in his possession a copy of this first and
merely printed edition of the “ Dialogues.” Its title
page stands thus:—“Dialogues concerning Natural Reli
gion, by David Hume, Esq.; Printed in 1779.”—On
the fly leaf there is written, “From the Author’s
Nephew,” indicating that the merely printed copies
were not exposed -for sale, and were circulated only
privately. But as delivery of any written or printed
�Postscript.
125
matter to only one person is “publication ” in the eye
of the law, perhaps the baron persuaded himself that
he had complied with “ the last request of his uncle ”—
in the eye of the law.
So intense was Baron Hume’s dread of the social
persecution which hitherto has always been suffered
by those persons who have sided with the plaintiff in
the good old cause of “ Truth v. Christianity. ” A
cause not yet decided against the plaintiff, notwith
standing the atrocities which the defendant inflicts,
almost every year on those who side with the plaintiff.
The late Dr. John P. Nichol of Glasgow University,
says, “It is at once unjust and unwise to consider
errors and crimes of this sort (persecutions) as ex
clusive attributes of the Romish Church; on the
contrary, their root lies deep in the heart of man.
The domain of physical inquiry is now wholly safe
from the disorders of intolerance; but there are large
departments of knowledge within which Reason is
not yet free; where authority abides on its throne,
and popular prejudice stores its thunderbolts’’
TURNBULL AND SPEAKS, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.
�
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Dialogues concerning natural religion No. II
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Text
NATIONALSECULARSOCIETY
/O '
/ Z/0-&
FAITH AND FACT
A LETTER TO
THE BEV. HENBY M. FIELD, D.D.
ROBERT G. INGERSOLL.
------- «-------
REPRINTED PROM
THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW
(November 1887).
Price Twopence.
LONDON:
PROGRESSIVE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
28 Stonecutter Street, E.C.
1890.
�LONDON:
PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY G. W. FOOTE
28 STONECUTTER STREET, E.C.
�FAITH AND FACT,
My Dear Mr. Field,—T answer your letter because it is manly
candid and generous. It is not often that a minister of the
gospel of universal benevolence speaks of an unbeliever except in
terms of reproach, contempt and hatred. The meek are often
malicious. The statement in your letter that some of your
brethren look upon me as a monster on account of my unbelief,
tends to show that those who love God are not always the
friends of their fellow men.
Is it not strange that people who admit that they ought to be
eternally damned, that they are by nature totally depraved, and
that there is no soundness or health in them, can be so arro
gantly egotistic as to look upon others as “ monsters ” ? And
yet “some of your brethren,” who regard unbelievers as infamous,
rely for salvation entirely on the goodness of another, and expect
to receive as alms an eternity of joy.
The first question that arises between us, is as to the inno
cence of honest error—as to the right to express an honest
thought.
You must know that perfectly honest men differ on many im
portant subjects. Some believe in free trade, others are the
advocates of protection, there are honest Democrats and sincere
Republicans. How do you account for these differences ? Edu
cated men, presidents of colleges, cannot agree upon questions
capable of solution—'questions that the mind can grasp, concern
ing which the evidence is open to all, and where the facts can be
with accuracy ascertained. How do you explain this ? If such
differences can exist consistently with the good faith of those
who differ, can you not conceive of honest people entertaining
different views on subjects about which nothing can be positively
known P
You do not regard me as a monster. “ Some of your brethren ”
do. How do you account for this difference ? Of course, your
brethren—their hearts having been softened by the Presbyterian
God—are governed by charity and love. They do not regard
me as. a monster because I have committed an infamous crime,
but simply for the reason that I have expressed my honest
thoughts.
What should I have done ? I have read the Bible with great
care, and the conclusion has forced itself upon my mind not only
�4
FAITH AND FACT.
that it is not inspired, but that it is not true. Was it my duty
to speak or act contrary to this conclusion ? W^as it my duty to
remain, silent ? If I had been untrue to myself, if I had joined
the majority—if I had declared the book to be the inspired word
of God—would your brethren still have regarded me as a
monster ? Has religion had control of the world so long that an
honest man seems monstrous?
According to your creed—according to your Bible—the same
being who made the mind of man, who fashioned every brain,
and sowed within those wondrous fields the seeds of every
thought and deed, inspired the Bible’s every word, and gave it
as a, guide to all the world. Surely the book should satisfy the
brain. And yet there are millions who do not believe in the
inspiration of the Scriptures. Some of the greatest and best
have held the claim of inspiration in contempt. No Presbyterian
ever stood higher in the realm of thought than Humboldt. He
was familiar with nature from the sands to stars, and gave his
thoughts, his discoveries and conclusions, “ more precious than
the tested gold,” to all mankind. Yet he not only rejected the
religion of your brethren, but denied the existence of their God.
Certainly Charles Darwin was one of the greatest and purest of
men—as free from prejudice as the mariner’s compass—desiring
only to find amid the mists and clouds of ignorance the star of
truth. No man ever exerted a greater influence on the intel
lectual world. His discoveries, carried to their legitimate con
clusion, destroy the creeds and sacred scriptures of mankind.
In the light of Natural Selection, The Survival of the Fittest and
The Origin of Species, even the Christian religion becomes a
gross and cruel superstition. Yet Darwin was an honest,
thoughtful, brave, and generous man.
Compare, I beg of you, these men, Humboldt and Darwin, and
the founders of the Presbyterian Church. Read the life of
Spinoza, the loving Pantheist, and then that of John Calvin, and
tell me, candidly, which in your opinion, was a “ monster.” Even
your brethren do not claim that men are to be eternally punished
for having been mistaken as to the truths of geology, astronomy,
or mathematics. A man may deny the rotundity and rotation of
the earth, laugh at the attraction of gravitation, scout the nebular
hypothesis, and hold the multiplication table in abhorrence, and
yet join at last the angelic choir. I insist upon the same free
dom of thought in all departments of human knowledge. Reason
is the supreme and final test.
If God has made a revelation to man it must have been
addressed to his reason. There is no other faculty that could
even decipher the address. I admit that reason is a small and
feeble flame, a flickering torch by stumbiers carried in the star
less night—blown and flared by passion’s storm—and yet it is
the only light. Extinguish that, and naught remains.
�FAITH AND FACT.
5
You. draw a distinction between what you are pleased to call
“ superstition ” and religion. You are shocked at the Hindoo
mother when she gives her child to death at the supposed com
mand of her god. What do you think of Abraham, of Jephthah ?
What is your opinion of Jehovah himself? Is not the sacrifice
of a child to a phantom as horrible in Palestine as in India ?
Why should a god demand a sacrifice from man ? Why should
the infinite ask anything from the finite ? Should the sun beg
of the glow-worm, and should the momentary spark excite the
envy of the source of light !
You must remember that the Hindoo mother believes that her
child will be for ever blest—that it will become the special care
of the god to whom it has been given. This is a sacrifice through
a false belief on the part of the mother. She breaks her heart
for love of her babe. But what do you think of the Christian
mother who expects to be happy in heaven, with her child a con
vict in the eternal prison—a prison in which none die and from
which none escape ? What do you say of those Christians who
believe that they, in heaven, will be so filled with ecstacy that
all the loved of earth will be forgotten—that all the sacred rela
tions of life and all the passions of the heart will fade and die, so
that they will look with stony, unreplying, happy eyes upon the
miseries of the lost ?
You have laid down a rule by which superstition can be dis
tinguished from religion. It is this : “ It makes that a crime
which is not a crime, and that a virtue which is not a virtue.”
Let us test your religion by this rule.
Is it a crime to investigate, to think, to reason, to observe ? Is
it a crime to be governed by that which to you is evidence, and
is it infamous to express your honest thought ? There is also
another question : Is credulity a virtue ? Is the open mouth of
ignorant wonder the only entrance to Paradise ?
According to your creed, those who believe are to be saved,
and those who do not believe are to be eternally lost. When you
condemn men to everlasting pain for unbelief—that is to say,
for acting in accordance with that which is evidence to them—
do you not make that a crime which is not a crime ? And when
you reward men with an eternity of joy for simply believing that
which happens to be in accord with their minds, do you not
make that a virtue which is not a virtue ? In other words, do
you not bring your own religion exactly within your own defini
tion of superstition ?
The truth is, that no one can justly be held responsible for his
thoughts. The brain thinks without asking our consent. We
believe, or we disbelieve, without an effort of the will. Belief is
a result. It is the effect of evidence upon the mind. The scales
turn in spite of him who watches. There is no opportunity of
being honest or dishonest in the formation of an opinion. The
�6
FAITH AND FACT.
conclusion is entirely independent of desire. We must believe,
or we must doubt, in spite of what we wish.
That which must be, has the right to be.
We think in spite of ourselves. The brain thinks as the heart
beats, as the eyes see, as the blood pursues its course in the old
accustomed ways.
The question then is not, have we the right to think,—that
being a necessity,—but have we the right to express our honest
thoughts ? You certainly have the right to express yours, and
you have exercised that right. Some of your brethren, who
regard me as a monster, have expressed theirs. The question
now is,, have I the right to express mine ? In other words, have
I the right to answer your letter ? To make that a crime in me
which is a. virtue in you, certainly comes within your definition
of superstition. To exercise a right yourself which you deny to
me is simply the act of a tyrant. Where did you get your right
to express your honest thoughts P When, and where, and how
did I lose mine ?
You would not burn, you would not even imprison me, because
I differ with you on a subject about which neither of us knows
anything. To you the savagery of the Inquisition is only a
proof of the depravity of man. You are far better than your
creed. You believe that even the Christian world is outgrowing
the frightful feeling that fagot, and dungeon, and thumb-screw
are legitimate arguments, calculated to convince those upon
whom they are used, that the religion of those who use them
was founded by a god of infinite compassion. You will admit
that he who now persecutes for opinion’s sake is in famous. And
yet, the God you worship will, according to your creed, torture
through all the endless years the man who entertains an honest
doubt. A belief in such a God is the foundation and cause of all
religious persecution. You may reply that only the belief in a
false God causes believers to be inhuman. But you must admit
that the Jews believed in a true God, and you are forced to say
that they were so malicious, so cruel, so savage, that they cruci
fied the only Sinless Being who ever lived. This crime was com
mitted, not in spite of their religion, but in accordance with it.
They simply obeyed the command of Jehovah. And the
followers of this Sinless Being, who, for all these centuries, have
denounced the cruelty of the Jews for crucifying a man on ac
count of his opinion, have destroyed millions and millions of their
fellow men for differing with them. And this same Sinless
Being threatens to torture in eternal fire countless myriads for
the same offence. Beyond this, inconsistency cannot go. At
this point absurdity becomes infinite.
Your creed transfers the Inquisition to another world, making
it eternal. Your God becomes, or rather is, an infinite Torque-
�FAITH AND FACT.
7
mada, who denies to his countless victims even the mercy of
death. And this you call a “ consolation.”
You insist that at the foundation of every religion is the idea
of God. According to your creed, all ideas of God, except those
entertained by those of your faith, are absolutely false. You are
not called upon to defend the gods of the nations dead, nor the
gods of heretics. It is your business to defend the God of the
Bible—the God of the Presbyterian Church. When in the ranks
doing battle for your creed, you must wear the uniform of your
Church. You dare not say that it is sufficient to insure the
salvation of a soul to believe in a god, or in some god. According
to your creed a man must believe in your god. All the nations
dead believed in gods, and all the worshippers of Zeus, and
Jupiter, and Isis, and Osiris and Brahma prayed and sacrificed
in vain. Their petitions were not answered, and their souls were
not saved. Surely you do not claim that it is sufficient to believe
in any one of the heathen gods.
What right have you to occupy the position of the Deists, and
to put forth arguments that even Christians have answered?
The Deist denounced the God of the Bible because of his cruelty,
and at the same time lauded the god of Nature. The Christian
replied that the god of Nature was as cruel as the God of the
Bible. This answer was complete.
I feel that you are entitled to the admission that none have
been, that none are, too ignorant, too degraded, to believe in the
supernatural ; and I freely give you the advantage of this admission. Only a few—and they among the wisest, noblest and
purest of the human race—have regarded all gods as monstrous
myths. Yet a belief of “ the true god ” does not seem to make
men charitable or just. For most people, Theism is the easiest
solution of the universe. They are satisfied with saying that
there must be a being who created and who governs the world.
But the universality of a belief does not tend to establish its
truth. The belief in the existence of a malignant devil has been
as universal as the belief in a beneficent god, yet few intelligent
men will say that the universality of this belief in an in finite
demon even tends to prove his existence. In the world of thought
majorities count for nothing. Truth has always dwelt with
the few.
Man has filled the world with impossible monsters, and he has
been the sport and prey of these phantoms born of ignorance
and hope and fear. To appease the wrath of these monsters man
has sacrificed his fellow man. He has shed the blood of wife and
child; he has fasted and prayed; he has suffered beyond the
power of language to express, and yet he has received nothing
from the gods—they have heard no supplication, they have
answered no prayer.
You may reply that your God “ sends his rain on the just and
�8
FAITH AND FACT.
on the unjust,” and that this fact proves that he is merciful to
all alike. I answer, that your God sends his pestilence on the
just and on the unjust—that his earthquakes devour and his
cyclones rend and wreck the loving and the vicious, the honest
and the criminal. Do not these facts prove that your God is
cruel to all alike? In other words, do they not demonstrate the
absolute impartiality of the divine negligence?
Do you not believe that any honest man of average intelli
gence, having absolute control of the rain, could do vastly better
than is being done ? Certainly there would be no droughts or
floods; the props would not be permitted to wither and die, while
rain was being wasted in the sea. Is it conceivable that a good
man with power to control the winds would not prevent cyclones?
Would you not rather trust a wise and honest man with the
lightning ?
Why should an infinitely wise and powerful God destroy the
good, and preserve the vile? Why should he treat all alike here,
and in another world make an infinite difference ? Why should
your God allow his worshippers, his adorers, to be destroyed by
his enemies ? Why should he allow the honest, the loving, the
noble, to perish at the stake ? Can you answer these questions ?
Does it not seem to you that your God must have felt a touch of
shame when the poor slave mother—one that had been robbed of
her babe—knelt and with clasped hands, in a voice broken with
sobs, commenced her prayer with the words “ Our Father ” ?
It gave me pleasure to find that, notwithstanding your creed,
you are philosophical enough to say that some men are incapaci
tated, by reason of temperament, for believing in the existence
of God. Now, if a belief in God is necessary to the salvation of
the soul, why should God create a soul without this capacity?
Why should he create souls that he knew would be lost ? You
seem to think that it is necessary to be poetical, or dreamy, in
order to be religious, and by inference, at least, you deny certain
qualities to me that you deem necessary. Do you account for
the Atheism of Shelley by saying that he was not poetic, and do
you quote his lines to prove the existence of the very God whose
being he so passionately denied ? Is it possible that Napoleon
—one of the most infamous of men—had a nature so finely
strung that he was sensitive to the divine influences ? Are you
driven to the necessity of proving the existence of one tyrant by
the words of another ? Personally, I have but little confidence in
a religion that satisfied the heart of a man who, to gratify his
ambition, filled half the world with widows and orphans. In
regard to Agassiz, it is just to say that he furnished a vast
amount of testimony in favor of the truth of the theories of
Charles Darwin, and then denied the correctness of these
theories—preferring the good opinion of Harvard for a few days
to the lasting applause of the intellectual world.
�FAITH AND FACT.
9
I agree with you that the world is a mystery, not only, but
that everything in Nature is equally mysterious, and that there
is no way of escape from the mystery of life and death. To me,
the crystallization of the snow is as mysterious as the constella
tions. But when you endeavor to explain the mystery of the
universe by the mystery of God, you do not even exchange
mysteries—you simply make one more.
Nothing can be mysterious enough to become an explanation.
The mystery of man cannot be explained by the mystery of
God.. That mystery still asks for explanation. The mind is so
that it cannot grasp the idea of an infinite personality. That is
beyond the circumference. This being so, it is impossible that
man can be convinced by any evidence of the existence of that
which he cannot in any measure comprehend. Such evidence
would be equally incomprehensible with the incomprehensible
fact sought to be established by it, and the intellect of man can
grasp neither the one nor the other.
You admit that the God of Nature—that is to say, your God,
is as inflexible as Nature itself. Why should man worship
the inflexible? Why should he kneel to the unchangeable ?
You say that your God “ does not bend to human thought any
more than to human will,” and that “ the more we study him,
the more we find that he is not what we imagined him to be.”
So that after all, the only thing you are really certain of in
relation to your God is, that he is not what you think he is. Is
it not almost absurd to insist that such a state of mind is
necessary to salvation, or that it is a moral restraint, or that it
is the foundation of a social order ?
The most religious nations have been the most immoral, the
cruellest, and the most unjust. Italy was far worse under the
Popes than under the Caesars. Was there ever a barbarian
nation more savage than the Spain of the sixteenth century ?
Certainly you must know that what you call religion has pro
duced a thousand civil wars, and has severed with the sword all
the natural ties that produce “ the unity and married calm of
States.” Theology is the fruitful mother of discord; order is
the child of reason. If you will candidly consider this question,
if you .will for a few moments forget your preconceived opinions,
you will instantly see that the instinct of self-preservation holds
society together. People, being ignorant, believed that the gods
were jealous and revengeful. They peopled space with phantoms
that demanded worship and delighted in sacrifice and ceremony,
phantoms that , could be flattered by praise and changed by
prayer. These ignorant people wished to preserve themselves,
they supposed that they could in this way avoid pestilence and
famine, and postpone perhaps the day of death. Do you not see
that self-preservation lies atjthe foundation of worship ? Nations,
like individuals, defend and protect themselves. Nations, like
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FAITH AND FACT.
individuals, have fears, have ideals, and live for the accomplish
ment of certain ends.. Men defend their property because it i s
of value. Industry is the enemy of theft. Men as a rule desire
to live, and for that reason murdei’ is a crime. Fraud is hateful
to the victim. The majority of mankind work and produce the
necessities, the comforts, and the luxuries of life. They wish to
retain the fruits of their labor. Government is one of the
instrumentalities for the preservation of what man deems of
value. This is the foundation of social order, and this holds
society together.
Religion has been the enemy of social order because it directs
the attention of man to another world. Religion teaches its
votaries to sacrifice this world for the sake of that other. The
effect is to weaken the ties that hold families and states together.
Of what consequence is any thing in this world compared with
eternal joy P
You insist that man is not capable of self-government, and
that God made the mistake of filling a world with failures—in
other words, that man must be governed not by himself, but by
your God, and that your God produces order, and establishes
and preserves all the nations of the earth. This being so, your
God is responsible for the government of this world. Does he
preserve order in Russia ? Is he accountable for Siberia ? Did
he establish the institution of slavery ? Was he the founder of
the Inquisition.
You answer all these questions by calling my attention to
“ the retributions of history.” What are 'the retributions of
history ? The honest were burned at the stake; the patriotic,
the generous and the noble were allowed to die in dungeons;
whole races were enslaved ; millions of mothers were robbed of
their babes. What were the retributions of history ? They
who committed these crimes wore crowns, and they who justified
these infamies were adorned with the tiara.
You are mistaken when you say that Lincoln at Gettysburg
said : “ Just and true are thy judgments, Lord God Almighty.”
Something like this occurs in his last inaugural, in which he
says—speaking of his hope that the war might soon be ended—
“ If it shall continue until every drop of blood drawn by the
lash shall be paid by another drawn by the sword, still it must
be said, ‘The judgments of the Lord are true and righteous
altogether.’ ” But admitting that you are correct in the asser
tion, let me ask you one question : Could one standing over the
body of Lincoln, the blood slowly oozing from the madman’s
wound, have truthfully said: “ Just and true are thy judg
ments, Lord God Almighty ” P
Do you really believe that this world is governed by an
infinitely wise and good God ? Have you convinced even your
self of this ? Why should God permit the triumph of injustice ?
�FAITH AND FACT.
11
Why should the loving be tortured P Why should the noblest
be destroyed ? Why should the world be filled with misery,
with ignorance and with want ? What reason have you for
believing that your God will do better in another world than he
has done and is doing in this ? Will he be wiser ? Will he
have more power ? Will he be more merciful ?
When I say “ your God,” of course I mean the God described
in the Bible and Presbyterian confession of faith. But again, I
say, that, in the nature of things, there can be no evidence of
the existence of an Infinite Being.
An Infinite Being must be conditionless, and for that reason
there is nothing that a finite being can do that can by any
possibility affect the well-being of the conditionless. This being
so, man can neither owe nor discharge any debt or duty to an
Infinite Being. The infinite cannot want, and man can do
nothing for a Being who wants nothing. A conditioned being
can be made happy or miserable by changing conditions, but the
conditionless is absolutely independent of cause and effect.
I do not say that a God does not exist, neither do I say that a
God does exist; but I say that I do not know—that there can
be no evidence to my mind of the existence of such a Being, and
that my mind is so that it is incapable of even thinking of an
infinite personality. I know that in your creed you describe
God as “ without body, parts, or passions.” This, to my mind,
is simply a description of an infinite vacuum. I have had no
experience with gods. This world is the only one with which I
am acquainted, and I was surprised to find in your letter the
expression that “ perhaps others are better acquainted with that
of which I am so ignorant.” Did you, by this, intend to say
that you know anything of any other state of existence—that
you have inhabited some other planet—that you lived before
you were born, and that you recollect something of that other
world, or of that other state ?
Upon the question of immortality you have done me, unin
tentionally, a great injustice. With regard to that hope, I have
never uttered “ a flippant or a trivial ” word. I have said a
thousand times, and I say again, that the idea of immortality,
that, like a sea, has ebbed and flowed in the human heart, with
its countless waves of hope and fear beating against the shores
and rocks of time and fate, was not born of any book, nor of any
creed, nor of any religion. It was born of human affection, and
it will continue to ebb and flow beneath the mists and clouds of
doubt and darkness as long as loves kisses the lips of death.
I have said a thousand times, and I say again, that we do not
know, we cannot say, whether death is a wall or a door—the
beginning or end of a day—the spreading of pinions to soar, or
the folding forever of wings—the rise or set of a sun, or an
endless life, that brings rapture and love to every one.
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FAITH AND FACT.
The belief in immortality is far older than Christianity. Thou
sands of years before Christ was born billions of people had
lived, and died in that hope. Upon countless graves had been
laid in love and tears the emblems of another life. The heaven
of the New Testament was to be in this world. The dead, after
they were raised, were to live here. Not one satisfactory word
was said to have been uttered by Christ—nothing philosophic,
nothing clear, nothing that adorns, like a bow of promise, the
cloud of doubt.
According to the account in the New Testament, Christ was
dead for a period of nearly three days. After his resurrection,
why did not some one of his disciples ask him where he had
been P Why did he not tell them what world he had visited ?
There was the opportunity to “ bring life and immortality to
light.” And yet he was silent as the grave that he had leftspeechless as the stone that angels had rolled away.
How do you account for this? Was it not infinitely cruel to
leave the world in darkness and in doubt when one word could
have filled time with hope and light ?
The hope of immortality is the great oak round which have
climbed the poisonous vines of superstition. The vines have not
supported the oak—the oak has supported the vines. As long
as men live, and love, and die, this hope will blossom in the
human heart.
All I have said upon this subject has been to express my hope
and confess my lack of knowledge. Neither by word nor look
have I expressed any other feeling than sympathy with those
who hope to live again—for those who bend above their dream
of life to come. But I have denounced the selfishness and heart
lessness of those who expect for themselves an eternity of joy,
and for the rest of mankind predict, without a tear, a world of
endless pain. Nothing can be more contemptible than such a
hope—a hope that can give satisfaction only to the hyenas of
the human race.
When I say that I do not know—when I deny the existence
of perdition, you reply that “ there is something very cruel in
this treatment of the belief of my fellow-creatures.”
You have had the goodness to invite me to a grave over which
a mother bends and weeps for her only son. I accept your
invitation. We will go together. Do not, I pray you, deal in
splendid generalities. Be explicit. Remember that the son for
whom the loving mother weeps was not a Christian, not a believer
in the inspiration of the Bible nor in the divinity of Jesus
Christ. The mother turns to you for consolation, for some star
of hope in the midnight of her grief. What must you say P Do
not desert the Presbyterian creed. Do not forget the threatenings of Jesus Christ. What must you say ? Will you read a
�FAITH AND FACT.
13
portion of the Presbyterian confession of faith ? Will you read
this?
“ Although, the light of nature, and the works of creation and providence,
do so far manifest the goodness, wisdom, and power of God as to leave man
inexcusable, yet they are not sufficient to give that knowledge of God and of
his will which is necessary to salvation.”
Or, will you read this ?
“ By the decree of God, for the manifestation 'of his glory, some men and
angels are predestined unto everlasting life and others foreordained to ever
lasting death. These angels and men, thus predestined and foreordained, are
particularly and unchangeably designed, and their number is so certain and
definite that it cannot be either increased or diminished.”
Suppose the mother, lifting her tear-stained face, should say :
“ My son was good, generous, loving and kind. He gave his life
for me. Is there no hope for him ?” WouldJyou then put this
serpent in her breast ?—
“ Men not professing the Christian religion cannot be saved in any other
way whatsoever, be they never so diligent to conform their lives according
to the light of nature. We cannot by our best works merit pardon of sin.
There is no sin so small but that it deserves damnation. Works done by un
regenerate men, although for the matter of that they may be things which
God commands, and of good use both to themselves and others, are sinful
and cannot please God or make a man meet to receive Christ or God.”
And suppose the mother should then sobbingly ask : “ What
has become of my son ? Where is he now ?” Would you still
read from your Confession of Faith, or from your Catechism,
this P—
“ The souls of the wicked are cast into hell, where they remain in torment
and utter darkness, reserved to the judgment of the great day. At the last
day the righteous shall come into everlasting life, but the wicked shall be
cast into hell, to be punished with unspeakable i torment, both of body and
soul, with the Devil and his angels for ever.”
If the poor mother still wept, still refused to be comforted,
would you thrust this dagger in her heart ?
“ At the Day of Judgment you, being caught up to Christ in the clouds,
shall be seated at his right hand and there openly acknowledged and
acquainted, and you shall join with him in the damnation of your son.”
If this failed to still the beatings of her aching heart, would
you repeat these words which you say came from the loving soul
of Christ ?—
“ They who believe and are baptised shall be saved, and they who believe
not shall be damned ; and these shall go away into everlasting fire prepared
for the Devil and his angels.”
Would you not be compelled, according to your belief, to tell
this mother that “ there is but one name given under heaven and
among men whereby ” the souls of men can enter the gates of
paradise ? Would you not be compelled to say : “ Your son lived
in a Christian land. The means of grace were within his reach.
He died not having experienced a change of heart, and your son
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FAITH AND FACT.
is for ever lost. You. can meet your son again only by dying in
your sins; but if you will give your heart to God you can never
clasp him to your breast again.”
What could I say ? Let me tell you.
“ My dear madam, this reverend gentleman knows nothing of
another world. He cannot see beyond the tomb. He has simply
Btated to you the superstitions of ignorance, of cruelty and fear.
If there be in this universe a God, he certainly is as good as you
are. Why should he have loved your son in life—loved him,
according to this reverend gentleman, to that degree that he
gave his life for him; and why should that love be changed to
hatred the moment your son was dead ?
“ My dear woman, there are no punishments, there are no
rewards—there are consequences; and of one thing you may
rest assured, and that is, that every soul, no matter what sphere
it may inhabit, will have the everlasting opportunity of doing
right.
“ If death ends all, and if this handful of dust over which you
weep is all there is, you have this consolation: Your son is not
within the power of this reverend gentleman’s God—that is
something. Your son does not suffer. Hext to a life of joy is
the dreamless sleep of death.”
Does it not seem to you infinitely absurd to call orthodox
Christianity “ a consolation ” ? Here in thiB world, where every
human being is enshrouded in cloud and mist —where all lives
are filled with mistakes—where no one claims to be perfect, is
it “ a consolation ” to say that “ the smallest sin deserves eternal
pain ” ? It is possible for the ingenuity of man to extract from
the doctrine of hell one drop, one ray, of “ consolation ” ? If
that doctrine be true, is not your God an infinite criminal ? Why
should he have created uncounted billions destined to suffer for
ever P Why did he not leave them unconscious dust ? Com
pared with this crime, any crime that any man can by any
possibility commit is a virtue.
Think for a moment of your God—the keeper of an infinite
penitentiary filled with immortal convicts—your God an eternal
turnkey, without the pardoning power. In the presence of this
infinite horror, you complacently speak of the atonement—a
scheme that has not yet gathered within its horizon a billionth
part of the human race—an atonement with one-half the world
remaining undiscovered for fifteen hundred years after it was
made.
If there could be no suffering, there could be no sin. To un
justly cause suffering is the only possible crime. How can a God
accept the suffering of the innocent in lieu of the punishment of
the guilty ?
According to your theory, this infinite being by his mere will,
makes right and wrong. This I do not admit. Right and wrong
�FAITH AND FACT.
15
exist in the nature of things—in the relation they bear to man,
and to sentient beings. You have already admitted that “ Nature
is inflexible, and that a violated law calls for its consequences.”
I insist that no God can step between an act and its natural
effects. If God exists, he has nothing to do with punishment,
nothing to do with reward. From certain acts flow certain con
sequences; these consequences increase or decrease the happiness
of man; and the consequences must be borne.
A man who has forfeited his life to the commonwealth may be
pardoned, but a man who has violated a condition of his own
well-being cannot be pardoned—there is no pardoning power.
The laws of the State are made, and being made, can be changed;
but the facts of the universe cannot be changed. The relation
of act to consequence cannot be altered. This is above all
power, and consequently there is no analogy between the laws of
the State and the facts in Nature. An infinite God could not
change the relation between the diameter and circumference of
the circle.
A man having committed a crime may be pardoned, but I deny
the right of the State to punish an innocent man in the place of
the pardoned—no matter how willing the innocent man may be
to suffer the punishment. There is no law in Nature, no fact in
Nature, by which the innocent can be justly punished to the end
that the guilty may go free. Let it be understood once for all:
Nature cannot pardon.
You have recognised this truth. You have asked me what is
to become of one who seduces and betrays, of the criminal with
the blood of his victim upon his hands. Without the slightest
hesitation I answer, whoever commits a crime against another
must, to the utmost of his power in this world and in another, if
there be one, make full and ample restitution, and in addition
must bear the natural consequences of his offence. No man can
be perfectly happy, either in this world or in any other, who has
by his perfidy broken a loving and confiding heart. No power
can step between acts and consequences—no forgiveness, no
atonement.
But, my dear friend, you have taught for many years, if
you are a Presbyterian, or an evangelical Christian, that a
man may seduce and betray, and that the poor victim, driven
to insanity, leaping from some wharf at night where ships
strain at their anchors in storm and darkness—you have taught
that this poor girl may be tormented for ever by a God of
infinite compassion. This is not all that you have taught. You
have said to the seducer, to the betrayer, to the one who would
not listen to her wailing cry—who would not even stretch
forth his hand to catch her fluttering garments—you have
said to him : “ Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and you shall
be happy forever; you shall live in the realms of infinite delight,
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FAITH AND FACT.
from which' you can, without a shadow falling upon your face,
observe the poor girl, your victim, writhing in the agonies of
hell.” You have taught this. For my part, I do not see how
an angel in heaven meeting another angel whom he had robbed
on the earth, could feel entirely blissful. I go further. Any
decent angel, no matter if sitting at the right hand of God,
should he see in hell one of his victims, would leave heaven
itself for the purpose of wiping one tear from the cheek of the
damned.
You seem to have forgotten your statement in the commence
ment of your letter, that your God is as inflexible as Nature—
that he bends not to human thought nor to human will. You
seem to have forgotten the line which you emphasised with
italics : “ The, effect of everything which is of the nature of a cause
is eternal.” In the light of this sentence, where do you find a
place for your forgiveness—for your atonement ? Where is a
way to escape from the effect of a cause that is eternal ? Do you
not see that this sentence is a cord with which I easily tie your
hands ? The scientific part of your letter destroys the theo
logical. You have put “ new wine into old bottles,” and the
predicted result has followed. Will the angels in heaven, the
redeemed of earth, lose their memory? Will not all the
redeemed rascals remember their rascality ? Will not all the
redeemed assassins remember the faces of the dead ? Will not
the seducers and betrayers remember her sighs, her tears, and
the tones of her voice, and will not the conscience of the
redeemed be. as inexorable as the conscience of the damned ?
If memory is to be for ever “ the warder of the brain,” and if
the redeemed can never forget the sins they committed, the pain
and anguish they caused, then they can never be perfectly
happy; and if the lost can never forget the good they did, the
kind actions, the loving words, the heroic deeds ; and if the
memory of good deeds gives the slightest pleasure, then the lost
can never be perfectly miserable. Ought not the memory of a
good action to live as long as the memory of a bad one ? _ So
that the undying memory of the good, in heaven, brings undying
pain, and the undying memory of those in hell brings undying
pleasure. Do you not see that if men have done good and bad,
the future can have neither a perfect heaven nor a perfect hell ?
I believe in the manly doctrine that every human being must
bear the consequence of his acts, and that no man can be justly
saved or damned on account of the goodness or the wickedness
of another.
If by atonement you mean the natural effect of self-sacrifice,
the effects following a noble and disinterested action; if you
mean that the life and death of Christ are worth their effect
upon the human race—which your letter seems to show—then
there is no question between us. If you have thrown away the
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17
old and barbarous idea that a law had been broken, that God
demanded a sacrifice, and that Christ, the innocent, was offered
up for us, and that he bore the wrath of God and suffered in our
place, then I congratulate you with all my heart.
It seems to me impossible that life should be exceedingly
joyous to anyone who is acquainted with its miseries, its burdens,
and its tears. I know that as darkness follows light around the
globe, so misery and misfortune follow the sons of men.. Accord
ing to your creed, the future state will be worse than this. Here,
the vicious may reform ; here, the wicked may repent; here,, a
few gleams of sunshine may fall upon the darkest life. But in
your future state, for countless millions of the human race, there
will be no reform, no opportunity of doing right, and no possible
gleam of sunshine can ever touch their souls. Do you not see
that your future state is infinitely worse than this ? You seem
to mistake the glare of hell for the light of morning.
Let us throw away the dogma of eternal retribution. Let us
“ cling to all that can bring a ray of hope into the darkness of
this life.”
You have been kind enough to say that I find a subject .for
caricature in the doctrine of regeneration. If, by regeneration,
you mean reformation—if you mean that there comes a time in
the life of a young man when he feels the touch of responsibility,
and that he leaves his foolish or vicious ways, and concludes to
act like an honest man—if this is what you mean by regenera
tion, I am a believer. But that is not the definition of regenera
tion in your creed—that is not Christian regeneration. There
is some mysterious, miraculous, supernatural, invisible agency,
called, I believe, the Holy Ghost, that enters and changes the
heart of man, and this mysterious agency is like the wind, under
the control, apparently, of no one, coming and going when and
whither it listeth. It is this illogical and absurd view of regene
ration that I have attacked.
You ask me how it came to pass that a Hebrew peasant, born
among the hills of Galilee, had a wisdom above that of Socrates
or Plato, of Confucius or Buddha, and you conclude by saying,
“ This is the greatest of miracles—that such a being should live
and die on the earth.”
I can hardly admit your conclusion, because I remember that
Christ said nothing in favor of the family relation. As a matter
of fact, his life tended to cast discredit upon marriage. He said
nothing against the institution of slavery ; nothing against the
tyranny of government; nothing of our treatment of animals;
nothing about education, about intellectual progress; nothing
of art, declared no scientific truth, and said nothing as to the
rightB and duties of nations.
You may reply that all this is included in “ Do unto others as
you would be done by,” and “ Resist not evil.” More than this
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FAITH AND FACT.
is necessary to educate the human race. Is it not enough to say
to your child or to your pupil, “ Do right.” The great question
still remains : What is right ? Neither is there any wisdom in
the idea of non-resistance. Force without mercy is tyranny.
Mercy without force is but a waste of tears. Take from virtue
the right of self-defence, and vice becomes the master of the
world.
Let me ask you how it came to pass that an ignorant driver of
camels, a man without family, without wealth, became master of
hundreds of millions of human beings P How is it that he con
quered and overran more than half of the Christian world?
How is it that on a thousand fields the banner of the cross went
down in blood while that of the crescent floated in triumph ?
How do you account for the fact that the flag of this impostor
floats to-day above the sepulchre of Christ ? Was this a miracle ?
Was Mohammed inspired ? How do you account for Confucius,
whose name is known wherever the sky bends ? Was he inspired
-—this man who for many centuries has stood first, and who has
been acknowledged the superior of all men by thousands of
millions of his fellow-men P How do you account for Buddha,
in many respects the greatest religious teacher this world has
ever known, the broadest, the most intellectual of them all; he
who was great enough, hundreds of years before Christ was
born, to declare the universal brotherhood of man, great enough
to say that intelligence is the only lever capable of raising
mankind ? How do you account for him, who has had more
followers than any other ? Are you willing to say that all success
is divine ? How do. you account for Shakespeare, born of
parents who could neither read nor write, held in the lap of
ignorance and love, nursed at the breast of poverty—how do
you account for him, by far the greatest of the human race, the
wings of whose imagination still fill the horizon of human
thought; Shakespeare, who was perfectly acquainted with the
human heart, knew all depths of sorrow, all heights of joy, and
in whose mind was the fruit of all thought, of all experience,
and a prophecy of all to be; Shakespeare, the wisdom and beauty
and depth of whose, words increase with the intelligence and
civilisation of mankind ? How do you account for this miracle P
Do. you believe that any founder of any religion could have
written Lear or Hamlet ? Did Greece produce a man who could
by any possibility have been the author of Troilus and Cressida ?
Was there among all the countless millions of almighty Borne
an intellect that could have written the tragedy of Julius Caesar ?
Is. not the play of Antony and Cleopatra as Egyptian as the
Nile ? How do you account for this man, within whose veins
there seemed to be the blood of every race, and in whose brain
there were the poetry and philosophy of a world p
You ask me to tell my opinion of Christ. Let me say here,
�FAITH AND FACT.
19
once for all, that for the man Christ—for the man who, in the
darkness, cried out, “ My God, why hast thou forsaken me P”—
for that man I have the greatest possible respect. And let me
say, once for all, that the place where man has died for man is
holy ground. To that great and serene peasant of Palestine I
gladly pay the tribute of my admiration and my tears. He was
a reformer in his day—an infidel in his time. Back of the theo
logical mask, and in spite of the interpolations of the New
Testament, I see a great and genuine man.
It is hard to see how you can consistently defend the course
pursued by Christ himself. He attacked with great bitterness
“ the religion of others.” It did not occur to him that “ there
was something very cruel in his treatment of the belief of his
fellow-creatures.” He denounced the chosen people of God as a
“ generation of vipers.” He compared them to “ whited sepul
chres.” How can you sustain the conduct of missionaries ?
They go to other lands and attack the sacred beliefs of others.
They tell the people of India and of all heathen lands, not only
that their religion is a lie, not only that their Gods are myths,
but that the ancestors of these people, their fathers and mothers,
who never heard of God, of the Bible, or of Christ, are all in
perdition. Is not this a cruel treatment of the belief of a fellow
creature ?
A religion that is not manly and robust enough to bear attack
with smiling fortitude is unworthy of a place in the heart or brain.
A religion that takes refuge in sentimentality, that cries out:
“ Do not, I pray you, tell me any truth calculated to hurt my
feelings,” is fit only for asylums.
You believe that Christ was God, that he was infinite in power.
While in Jerusalem he cured the sick, raised a few from the
dead, and opened the eyes of the blind. Did he do these things
because he loved mankind, or did he do these miracles simply to
establish the fact that he was the very Christ ? If he was
actuated by love, is he not as powerful now as he was then ?
Why does he not open the eyes of the blind now ? Why does he
not, with a touch, make the leper clean ? If you had the power
to give sight to the blind, to cleanse the leper, and would not
exercise it, what would be thought of you ? What is the differ
ence between one who can and will not cure, and one who causes
diseases.
Only the other day I saw a beautiful girl—a paralytic, and yet
her brave and cheerful spirit shone over the wreck and ruin of
her body like morning on the desert. What would I think
of myself had I the power by a word to send the blood
through all her withered limbs freighted again with life, should
I refuse ?
Most theologians seem to imagine that the virtues have been
produced by and are really the children of religion.
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FAITH AND FACT.
Religion has to do with the supernatural. It defines our duties
and obligations to God. It prescribes a certain course of conduct
by means of which happiness can be attained in another world.
The result here is only an incident. The virtues are secular.
They have nothing whatever to do with the supernatural, and
are of no kindred to any religion. A man may be honest,
courageous, charitable, industrious, hospitable, loving and pure
without being religious—that is to say, without any belief in the
supernatural; and a man may be the exact opposite and at the
same time a sincere believer in the creed of any church—that is
to say, in the existence of a personal God, the inspiration of the
scriptures and the divinity of Jesus Christ. A man who believes
in the Bible may or may not be kind to his family, and a man
who is kind and loving to his family may or may not believe in
the Bible.
In order that you may see the effect of belief in the formation
of character, it is only necessary to call your attention to the
fact that your Bible shows that the Devil himself is a believer in
the existence of your God, in the inspiration of the scriptures
and in the divinity of Jesus Christ. He not only believes these
things, but he knows them, and yet, in spite of it all, he remains
a devil still.
Few religions have been bad enough to destroy all the natural
goodness in the human heart. In the deepest midnight of super
stition some natural virtues, like stars, have been visible in the
heavens. Man has committed every crime in the name of Chris
tianity—or at least crimes that involved the commission of all
others. Those who paid for labor with the lash, and who made
blows a legal tender, were Christians. Those who engaged in
the slave trade were believers in a personal God. One slave ship
was called “ The Jehovah.” Those who pursued, with hounds,
the fugitive led by the northern star, prayed fervently to Christ
to crown their efforts with success, and the stealers of babes, just
before falling asleep, commended their souls to the keeping of
the Most High.
As you have mentioned the Apostles, let me call your attention
to an incident.
You remember the story of Ananias and Sapphira. The
Apostles, having nothing themselves, conceived the idea of
having all things in common. Their followers, who had some
thing, were to sell what little they had, and turn the proceeds
over to these theological financiers. It seems that Ananias and
Sapphira had a piece of land. They sold it, and after talking
the matter over, not being entirely satisfied with the collaterals,
concluded to keep a little—just enough to keep them from star
vation if the good and pious bankers should abscond.
When Ananias brought the money, he was asked whether he
had kept back a part of the price. He said that he had not;
�FAITH AND FACT.
21
whereupon God, the compassionate, struck him dead.. As soon
as the corpse was removed, the apostles sent for his wife. They
did not tell hei- that her husband had been killed. They deli
berately set a trap for her life. Not one of them was good enough
or noble enough to put her on her guard : they allowed her to
believe that hei’ husband had told his story, and that she was
free to corroborate what he had said. She probably felt that
they were giving more than they could afford, and, with the
instinct of a woman, wanted to keep a little. She denied that
any part of the price had been kept back. That moment the
arrow of divine vengeance entered her heart.
Will you be kind enough to tell me your opinion of the apostles
in the light of this story ? Certainly murder is a greater crime
than mendacity.
\ ou have been good enough, in a kind of fatherly way, to give
me some advice. You say that I ought to soften my colors, and
that my words would be more weighty if not so strong. Do you
really desire that I should add weight to my words ? Do you
really wish me to succeed ? If the commander of one army
should send word to the general of the other that his men were
firing too high, do you think the general would be misled ? Can
you conceive of his changing his orders by reason of the
message P
I deny that “ the Pilgrims crossed the sea to find freedom to
worship God in the forests of the new world.” They came not
in the interest of freedom. It never entered their minds that
other men had the same right to worship God according to the
dictates of their consciences, that the pilgrims had. The moment
they had power they were ready to whip and brand, to imprison
and burn. They did not believe in religious freedom. They had
no more idea of religious liberty of conscience than Jehovah.
I do not say that there is no place in the world for heroes and
martyrs. On the contrary, I declare that the liberty we now
have was won for us by heroes and by martyrs, and millions of
these martyrs were burned, or flayed alive, or torn in pieces, or
assassinated by the Church of God. The heroism was shown in
fighting the hordes of religious superstition.
Giordano Bruno was a martyr. He was a hero. He believed
in no God, in no heaven and in no hell, yet he perished by fire.
He was offered liberty on condition that he would recant. There
was no God to please, no heaven to preserve the unstained white
ness of his soul.
For hundreds of years every man who attacked the Church
was a hero. The sword of Christianity has been wet for many
centuries with the blood of the noblest. Christianity has been
ready with whip and chain and fire to banish freedom from the
earth.
Neither is it true that “ family life withers under the cold
�22
FAITH AND FACT.
sneer—half pity half sneer—with which I look down on house
hold worship.”
Those who believe in the existence of God, and believe that
they are indebted to this divine being for the few gleams of
sunshine in this life, and who thank God for the little they have
enjoyed, have my entire respect. Never have I said one word
against the spirit of thankfulness. I understand the feeling of
the man who gathers his family about him after the storm, or
after the scourge, or after long sickness, and pours out his heart
in thankfulness to the supposed God who has protected his fire
side. I understand the spirit of the savage who thanks his idol
of stone, or his fetish of wood. It is not the wisdom of the one
nor of the other that I respect, it is the goodness and thankful
ness that prompt the prayer.
I believe in the family. I believe in family life, and one of my
objections to Christianity is that it divides the family. Upon
this subject I have said hundreds of times, and I say again, that
the roof-tree is sacred, from the smallest fibre that feels the
soft, cool clasp of the earth, to the topmost flower that spreads
its bosom to the sun, and like a spendthrift gives its perfume to
the air. The home where virtue dwells with love is like a lily
with a heart of fire, the fairest flower in all this world.
What did Christianity in the early centuries do for the home p
What have nunneries and monasteries, and what has the glorifi
cation of celibacy done for the family ? Do you not know that
Christ himself offered rewards in this world and eternal happi
ness in another to those who would desert their wives and
children and follow him P What effect has that promise had
upon family life ?
As a matter of fact, the family is regarded as nothing. Chris
tianity teaches that there is but one family, the family of Christ,
and that all other relations are as nothing compared with that.
Christianity teaches the husband to desert the wife, the wife to
desert the husband, children to desert their parents for the
miserable and selfish purpose of saving their own little, shrivelled
souls.
It is far better for a man to love his fellow men than to love
God. It is better to love wife and children than to love Christ.
It is better io serve your neighbour than to serve your God—
even if God exists. The reason is palpable. You can do nothing
for God. You can do something for wife and children, you can
add to the sunshine of life. You can paint flowers in the path
way of another.
It is true that I am an enemy of the orthodox sabbath. It is
true that I do not believe in giving one-seventh of our time to
the service of superstition. The whole scheme of your religion
can be understood by any intelligent man in one day. Why
�FAITH AND FACT.
23
should he waste a seventh of his whole life in hearing the same
thoughts repeated again and again ?
Nothing is more gloomy than an orthodox Sabbath. The
mechanic who has worked during the week in heat and dust,
the laboring man who has barely succeeded in keeping his soul
in his body, the poor woman who has been sewing for the rich,
may go to the village church which you have described. They
answer the chimes of the bell, and what do they hear in this
village church ? Is it that God is the father of the human race;
is that all ? If that were all, you never would have heard an
objection from my lips. That is not all. If all ministers said:
Bear the evil of this life; your Bather in heaven counts your
tears; the time will come when pain and death and grief will
be forgotten words—I should have listened with the rest. What
else does the minister say to the poor people who have answered
the chimes of your bell ? He says “ The smallest sin deserves
eternal pain.” “ A vast majority of men are doomed to suffer
the wrath of God for ever.” He fills the present with fear and
the future with fire. He has heaven for the few, hell for the
many. He describes a little grass-grown path that leads to
heaven, where travellers are “ few and far between,” and a great
highway worn with countless feet that leads to everlasting
death.
Such Sabbaths are immoral. Such ministers are the real
savages.. Gladly would I abolish such a Sabbath. Gladly would
I turn it into a holiday, a day of rest and peace, a day to get
acquainted with your wife and children, a day to exchange
civilities with your neighbors; and gladly would I see the
church in which such sermons are preached changed to a place
of entertainment. Gladly would I have the echoes of orthodox
sermons—the owls and bats among the rafters, the snakes in
crevices and corners—driven out by the glorious music of
Wagner and Beethoven. Gladly would I see the Sunday-school,
where the doctrine of eternal fire is taught, changed to a happy
dance upon the village green.
Music refines. The doctrine of eternal punishment degrades.
Science civilises. Superstition looks longingly back to savagery.
You do not believe that general morality can be upheld with
out the sanctions of religions.
Christianity has sold, and continues to sell, crime on credit.
It has taught, and still teaches, that there is forgiveness for all.
Of course it teaches morality. It says : “ Do not steal, do not
murder;” but it adds : “ but if you do both, there is a way of
escape; believe on the Lord Jesus Christ,-and thou shalt be
saved.” I insist that such religion is no restraint. It is far
better to teach that there is no forgiveness, and that every
human being must bear the consequence of his acts.
The first great step toward national reformation is the uni-
�24
FAITH AND FACT.
versai acceptance of the idea that there is no escape from the
consequences of our acts. The young men who come from their
country homes into a city filled with temptations, may be
restrained by the thought of father and mother. This is a
natural restraint. They may be restrained by their knowledge
of the fact that a thing is evil on account of its consequences,
and that to do wrong is always a mistake. I cannot conceive of
such a man being more liable to temptation because he has
heard one of my lectures in which I have told him that the only
good is happiness—that the only way to attain that good is by
doing what he believes to be right. I cannot imagine that his
moral character will be weakened by the statement that there is
no escape from the consequences of his acts. You seem to think
that he will be instantly led astray—that he will go off under
the flaring lamps to the riot of passion. Do you think the
Bible calculated to restrain him ? To prevent this would you
recommend him to read the lives of Abraham, of Isaac, and of
Jacob, and the other holy polygamists of the Old Testament?
Should he read the life of David, and of Solomon ? Do you
think this would enable him to withstand temptation ? Would
it not be far better to fill the young man’s mind with facts, so
that he may know exactly thé physical consequences of such
acts ? Do you regard ignorance as the foundation of virtue ?
Is fear the arch that supports the moral nature of man ?
You seem to think that there is danger in knowledge, and
that the best chemists are the most likely to poison themselves.
You say that to sneer at religion is only a step from sneering
at morality, and then only another step to that which is vicious
and profligate.
The Jews entertained the same opinion of the teachings of
Christ. He sneered at their religion. The Christians have
entertained the same opinion of every philosopher. Let me say
to you again—and let me say it once for all—that morality has
nothing to do with religion. Moralily does not depend upon
the supernatural. Morality does not walk with the crutches of
miracles. Morality appeals to the experience of mankind. It
cares nothing about faith, nothing about sacred books. Morality
depends upon facts, something that can be seen, something
known, the product of which can be estimated. It needs no
priest, no ceremony, no mummery. It believes in the freedom
of the human mind. It asks for investigation. It is founded
upon truth. It is the enemy of all religion, because it has to do
with this world, and with this world alone.
My object is to drive fear out of the world. Fear is the
gaoler of the mind. Christianity, superstition—that is so say,
the supernatural—makes every brain a prison and every soul a
convict. Under the government of a personal deity, conse
quences partake of the nature of punishments and rewards.
�FAITH AND FACT.
25
Under the government of Nature, what you call punishments
and rewards are simply consequences. Nature does not punish.
Nature does not reward. Nature has no purpose. When the
storm comes, I do not think : “ This is being done by a tyrant.”
When the sun Bhines, I do not say: “This is being done by a
friend.” Liberty means freedom from personal dictation. It does
not mean escape from the relations we sustain to other facts in
Nature. I believe in the restraining influences of liberty. Tem
perance walks hand in hand with freedom. To remove a chain
from the body puts an additional responsibility upon the soul.
Liberty says to the man: You injure or benefit yourself; you
increase or decrease your own well-being. It is a question of
intelligence. You need not bow to a supposed tyrant, or to
infinite goodness. You are responsible to yourself and to those
you injure, and to none other.
I rid myself of fear, believing as I do that there is no power
above which can help me in any extremity, and believing as I do
that there is no power above or below that can injure me in any
extremity. I do not believe that I am the sport of accident, or
that I may be dashed in pieces by the blind agency of Nature.
There is no accident, and there is no agency. That which
happens must happen. The present is the child of all the past,
the mother of all the future.
Does it relieve mankind from fear to believe that there is
some God who will help them in extremity ? What evidence
have they on which to found this belief? When has any God
listened to the prayer of any man ? The water drowns, the cold
freezes, the flood destroys, the fire burns, the bolt of heaven
falls—when and where has the prayer of man been answered ?
Is the religious world to-day willing to test the efficacy of
prayer? Only a few years ago it was tested in the United
States. The Christians of Christendom, with one accord, fell
upon their knees and asked God to spare the life of one man.
You know the result. You know just as well as I that the
forces of Nature produce the good and bad alike. You know
that the forces of Nature destroy the good and bad alike. You
know that the lightning feels the same keen delight in striking
to death the honest man that it does or would in striking the
assassin with his knife lifted above the bosom of innocence.
Did God heai’ the prayers of the slaves ? Did he hear the
prayers of imprisoned philosophers and patriots ? Did he hear
the prayers of martyrs, or did he allow fiends, calling them
selves his followers, to pile the fagots round the forms of
glorious men ? Did he allow the flames to devour the flesh of
those whose hearts were his ? Why should any man depend on
the goodness of a God who created countless millions, knowing
that they would suffer eternal grief?
The faith that you call sacred—“ sacred as the most delicate
�26
FAITH AND FACT.
or manly or womanly sentiment of love and7honor”—is the
faith that nearly all of your fellow men are to be lost. Ought
an honest man to be restrained from denouncing that faith be
cause those who entertain it say that their feelings are hurt ?
You say to me: “There is a hell. A man advocating the
opinions you advocate will go there when he dies.” I answer :
“ There is no hell. The Bible that teaches that is not
true.” And you say: “ How can you hurt my feelings ?”
You seem to think that one who attacks the religion of Ids
parents is wanting in respect to his father and mother.
Were the early Christians lacking in respect for their fathers
and mothers? Were the Pagans who embraced Christianity
heartless sons and daughters ? What have you to say of the
Apostles ? Did they not heap contempt upon the religion of
their fathers and mothers ? Did they not join with him who
denounced their people as a “ generation of vipers ” ? Did they
not follow one who offered a reward to those who would desert
father and mother ? Of course you have only to go back a few
generations in your family to find a Field who was not a Pres
byterian. After that you find a Presbyterian. Was he base
enough and. infamous enough to heap contempt upon the
religion of his father and mother ? All the Protestants in the
time of Luther lacked in respect for the religion of their
fathers and mothers. According to your ideas, progress is a
prodigal son. If one is bound by the religion of his father and
mother, and his father happens to be a Presbyterian and his
mother a Catholic, what is he to do ? Do you not see that your
doctrine gives intellectual freedom only to foundlings ?
If by Christianity you mean the goodness, the spirit of for
giveness, the benevolence claimed by Christians to be a part, and
the principal part, of that peculiar religion, then I do not agree
with you when you say that “ Christ is Christianity and that it
stands or falls with him.” You have narrowed unnecessarily the
foundation of your religion. If it should be established beyond
doubt that Christ never existed all that is of value in Chris
tianity would remain, and remain unimpaired. Suppose that
we should find that Euclid was a myth, the science known as
mathematics would not suffer. It makes no difference who
painted or chiseled the greatest pictures and statues so long as
we have the pictures and statues. When he who has given the
world a truth passes from the earth the truth is left. A truth
dies only when forgotten by the human race. Justice, love,
mercy, forgiveness, honor, all the virtues that ever blossomed in
the human heart, were known and practised for uncounted ages
before the birth of Christ.
You insist that religion does not leave man in “ abj’ect terror ’*
—does not leave him “ in utter darkness as to his fate.”
Is it possible to know who will be saved ? Can you read the
�FAITH AND FACT.
27
names mentioned in the decrees of the infinite ? Is it possible
to tell who is to be eternally lost ? Can the imagination conceive
a worse fate than your religion predicts for a majority of the
race ? Why should not every human being be in “ abject terror ”
who believes your doctrine ? How many loving and sincere
women are in the asylums to-day fearing that they have com
mitted “ the unpardonable sin ”—a sin to which your God has
attached the penalty of eternal torment, and yet has failed to
describe the offence ? Can tyranny go beyond this—fixing the
penalty of eternal pain for the violation of a law not written,
not known, but kept in the secrecy of infinite darkness ? How
much happier it is to know nothing about it, and to believe
nothing about it! How much better to have no God.
You discover a “ great intelligence ordering our little lives, so
that even the trials that we bear, as they call out the finer
elements of character, conduce to our future happiness.’’ This
is an old explanation—probably as good as any. The idea is,
that this world is a school in which man becomes educated
through tribulation—the muscles of character being developed
by wrestling with misfortune. If it is necessary to live this
life in order to develop character, in order to become worthy of
a better world, how do you account for the fact that millions of
the human race die in infancy, and are thus deprived of this
necessary education and development ? What would you think
of a schoolmaster who should kill a large proportion of his
scholars during the first day, before they had even an oppornity to look at A ?
You insist that “ there is a power behind nature making for
righteousness.”
If nature is infinite, how can there be a power outside of
nature ? If you mean by a “ power making for righteousness ”
that man as he become civilised, as he become intelligent, not
only takes advantage of the forces of nature for his own benefit,
but perceives more and more clearly that if he be happy he must
live in harmony with the conditions of his being, in harmony
with the fact by which he is surrounded, in harmony with the
relations he sustains to others and to things; if this is what
you mean, then there is “ a power making for righteousness.”
But if you mean that there is something supernatural at the
back of nature directing events, then I insist that there can by
no possibility be any evidence of the existence of such a power.
The history of the human race shows that nations rise and fall.
There is a limit to the life of a race; so that it can be said of
every nation dead, that there was a period when it laid the
foundations of prosperity, when the combined intelligence and
virtue of the people constituted a power working for righteous
ness, and that there came a time when this nation became a
spendthrift, when it ceased to accumulate, when it lived on the
�28
FAITH AND FACT.
labors of its youth, and passed from strength and glory to the
weakness of old age, and finally fell palsied to its tomb.
The intelligence of man guided by a sense of duty is the only
power that makes for righteousness.
You tell me that I am waging “ a hopeless war,” and you give
as a reason that the Christian religion began to be nearly two
thousand years before I was born, and that it will live two
thousand years after I am dead.
Is this an argument ? Does it tend to convince even yourself?
Could not Caiaphas, the high priest, have said substantially this
to Christ? Could he not have said: “The religion of Jehovah
began to be four thousand years before you were born, and it
will live two thousand years after you are dead ? ” Could not a
follower of Buddha make the same illogical remark to a mission
ary from Andover with the glad tidings ? Could he not say:
“ You are waging a hopeless war. The religion of Buddha
began to be twenty-five hundred years before you were born, and
hundreds of millions of people still worship at Great Buddha’s
shrine ? ”
Do you insist that nothing except the right can live for two
thousand years ? Why is it that the Catholic Church “ lives on
and on, while nations and kingdoms perish ? ” Do you consider
that the survival of the fittest ?
Is it the same Christian religion now living that lived during
the Middle Ages ? Is it the same Christian religion that founded
the Inquisition and invented the thumb-screw ? Do you see no
difference between the religion of Calvin and Jonathan Edwards
and the Christianity of to-day ? Do you really think that it is
the same Christianity that has been living all these years ?
Have you noticed any change in the last generation ? Do you
remember when scientists endeavored to prove a theory by a
passage from the Bible, and do you now know that believers in
the Bible are exceeding anxious to prove its truth by some fact
that science has demonstrated ? Do you know that the standard
has changed ? Other things are not measured by Bible, but the
Bible has to submit to another test. It no longer owns the
scales. It has to be weighed—it is being weighed—it is growing
lighter and lighter every day. Do you know that only a few
years ago “ the glad tidings of great joy ” consisted mostly in a
descriptions of hell ? Do you know that nearly every intelligent
minister is now ashamed to preach about it, or to read about it,
or to talk about it ? Is there any change ? Do you know that
but few ministers now believe in “ the plenary inspiration ” of
the Bible, that from thousands of pulpits people are now told
that the creation according to Genesis is a mistake, that it never
was as wet as the flood, and that the miracles of the Old Testa
ment are considered simply as myths or mistakes ?
How long will what you call Christianity endure, if it changes
�FAITH AND FACT.
29
as rapidly during the next century as it has during the last ?
What will there be left of the supernatural ?
It does not seem possible that thoughtful people can, for many
years, believe that a being of infinite wisdom is the author of the
Old Testament, that a being of infinite purity and kindness
upheld polygamy and slavery, that he ordered his chosen people
to massacre their neighbors, and that he commanded husbands
and fathers to persecute wives and daughters unto death for
opinion’s sake.
It does not seem within the prospect of belief that Jehovah,
the cruel, the jealous, the ignorant, and the revengeful, is the
creator and preserver of the universe.
Does it seem possible that infinite goodness would create a
world in which life feeds on life, in which everything devours
and is devoured? Can there be a sadder fact than this : Inno
cence is not a certain shield ?
It is impossible for me to believe in the eternity of punishment.
If that doctrine be true, Jehovah is insane.
Day after day there are mournful processions of men and
women, patriots and mothers, girls whose only crime is that the
word Liberty burst into flower between their pure and loving
lips, driven like beasts across the melancholy wastes of Siberian
snow. These men, these women, these daughters go to exile
and slavery, to a land where hope is satisfied with death.
Does it seem possible to you that an “ Infinite Father ” Bees all
this and sits as silent as a god of stone ?
And yet, according to your Presbyterian creed, according to
your inspired book, according to your Christ, there is another
procession, in which are the noblest and the best, in which you
will find the wondrous spirits of this world, the lovers of the
human race, the teachers of their fellow men, the greatest
soldiers that ever battled for the right; and this procession of
countless millions in which you will find the most generous and
the most loving of the sons and daughters of men, is moving on
the Siberia of God, the land of eternal exile, where agony
becomes immortal.
How can you, how can any man with brain or heart, believe
this infinite lie P
Is there not room for a better, for a higher philosophy ? After
all, is it not possible that we may find that everything has been
necessarily produced, that all religions and superstitions, all
mistakes and all crimes were simply necessities? Is it not
possible that out of this perception may come not only love and
pity for others, but absolute justification for the individual ?
May we not find that every soul has, like Mazeppa, been lashed
to the wild horse of passion, or like Prometheus, to the rocks of
fate ?
You ask me to take the “ sober second thought.” I beg of you
�30
FAITH AND FACT.
to take the first, and if you do you will throw away the Presby
terian creed; you will instantly perceive that he who commits
the “ smallest sin ” no more deserves eternal pain than he who
does the smallest virtuous deed deserves eternal bliss; you will
become convinced that an infinite God who creates billions of
men knowing that they will suffer through all the countless years
is an infinite demon; you will be satisfied that the Bible, with
its philosophy and its folly, with its goodness and its cruelty, is
but the work of man, and that the supernatural does not and
cannot exist.
Bor you personally I have the highest regard and the sincerest
respect, and I beg of you not to pollute the soul of childhood, not
to furrow the cheeks of mothers, by preaching a creed that
should be shrieked in a mad-house. Do not make the cradle
as terrible as the coffin. Preach I pray you, the gospel of intel
lectual hospitality—the liberty of thought and speech. Take
from loving hearts the awful fear. Have mercy on your fellow
men. Do not drive to madness the mothers whose tears are
falling on the pallid faces of these who died in unbelief. Pity
the erring, wayward, suffering, weeping world. Do not proclaim
as “tidings of great joy” that an Infinite Spider is weaving
webs to catch the souls of men.
Printed and Published by G. W. Foote, at 28 Stonecutter Street, London, EC.
��WORKS BY COLONEL R. G. INGERSOLL
s. d.
MISTAKES OF MOSES
...
...
...10
Superior edition, in cloth ...
...
... 1f>
Only Complete Edition published in England.
DEFENCE OF FREETHOUGHT
...
... 0 0
Five Hours’ Speech at the Trial of 0. B.
Reynolds for Blasphemy.
REPLY TO GLADSTONE
...
...
... 0 4
With a Biography by J. M. Wheeler.
ROME OR REASON ? Reply to Cardinal Manning 0 4
CRIMES AGAINST CRIMINALS
...
... 0 0
AN ORATION ON WALT WHITMAN ................ 0 3
GOD AND MAN. Second Reply to Dr. Field
... 0 2
THE DYING CREED
...
...
... 0 2
THE HOUSEHOLD OF FAITH
0 2
LOVE THE REDEEMER. Reply to Count Tolstoi 0 2
THE LIMITS OF TOLERATION
0 2
A Discussion with Hon. F. D. Coudert and
Gov. S. L. Woodford
DO I BLASPHEME?
0 2
THE CLERGY AND COMMON SENSE
0 2
THE GREAT MISTAKE
0 1
LIVE TOPICS
0 1
MYTH AND MIRACLE
0 1
REAL BLASPHEMY
0 1
SOCIAL SALVATION
0 2
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE .
0 2
GOD AND THE STATE
0 2
0 2
WHY AM I AN AGNOSTIC ?
0 2
WHY AM I AN AGNOSTIC ? Part H
Progressive Publishing Co, 28 Stonecutter Street, E.C.
�
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Faith and fact : a letter to the Rev. Henry M. Field
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Ingersoll, Robert Green [1833-1899]
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 30 p. ; 19 cm.
Notes: Reprinted from the North American Review, Nov. 1887. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection. "Works by Colonel R.G. Ingersoll" listed on back cover. No. 22e in Stein checklist. Printed and published by G.W. Foote.
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Progressive Publishing Company
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1890
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N345
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Religion
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<img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /><br /><span>This work (Faith and fact : a letter to the Rev. Henry M. Field), identified by </span><span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk">Humanist Library and Archives</a></span><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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English
Faith
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Reason
Religion
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NATIONAL SECULAR SOCIETY
AND FACT
4
A Letter
to
The Rev. Henry M. Field, D.D.
BY
ROBERT G. INGERSOLL.
REPRINTED FROM
THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW
(November 1887).
Price Twopence,
LONDON:
PROGRESSIVE PUBLISHING ¡COMPANY,
28 Stonecutter Street, E.C.
1887.
:
�LONDON :
FEINTED AND FUFIISHED BY U. W. FOOTE,
AT 28 STONECUTTER STREET, E.U.
�N'34-4-
FAITH AND FACT.
My Dear Mr. Field,—I answer your letter because it is
manly, candid and generous. It is not often that a minister of the
gospel of universal benevolence speaks of an unbeliever except in
terms of reproach, contempt and hatred. The meek are often
malicious. The statement in your letter that some of your brethren
look upon me as a monster on account of my unbelief, tends to
show that those who love God are not always the friends of their
fellow men.
Is it not strange that people who admit that they ought to be'
eternally damned, that they are by nature totally depraved, and
that there is no soundness or health in them, can be so arro
gantly egotistic as to look upon others as “ monsters ? ” And- yet
“some of your brethren,” who regard unbelievers as infamous,
rely for salvation entirely on the goodness of another, and expect
to receives as alms an eternity of joy.
The first question that arises between us, is as to the innocence
of honest error—as to the right to express an honest thought.
You must know that perfectly honest men differ on many im
portant subjects. Some believe in free trade, others are the
advocates of protection. There are honest Democrats and sincere
Republicans. How do you account for these differences? Edu
cated men, presidents of colleges, cannot agree upon questions
capable of solution—questions that the mind can grasp, concerning
which the evidence is open to all, and where the facts can be with
accuracy ascertained.
How do you explain this ?
If such
differences can exist consistently with the good faith of those who
differ, can you not conceive of honest people entertaining different
views on subjects about which nothing can be positively known ?
You do not regard me as a monster. “ Some of your brethren ”
do. How do you account for this difference? Of course, your
brethren—their hearts having been softened by the Presbyterian
God—are governed by charity and love.
They do not regard
me as a monster because I have committed an infamous crime,
but simply for the reason that I have expressed my honest
thoughts.
What should I have done ? I have read the Bible with great
�care, and the conclusion has forced itself upon my mind not only
that it is not inspired, but that it is not true. Was it my duty to
speak or act contrary to this conclusion ? Was it my duty to
remain silent ? If I had been untrue to myself, if I had joined
the majority—if I had declared the book to be the inspired word
of God—would your brethren still have regarded me as a monster ?
Has religion had control of the world so long that an honest man
seems monstrous ?
According to your creed—according to your Bible—the same
being who made the mind of man, who fashioned every brain, and
sowed within those wonderous fields the seeds of every thought and
deed, inspired the Bible’s every word, and gave it as a guide to all
the world. Surely the book should satisfy the brain. And yet
there are millions who do not believe in the inspiration of the
Scriptures. Some of the greatest and best have held the claim of
inspiration in contempt. No Presbyterian ever stood higher in the
realm of thought than Humboldt. He was familiar with nature
from sands to stars, and gave his thoughts, his discoveries and
conclusions, “ more precious than the tested gold,” to all mankind.
Yet he not only rejected the religion of your brethren, but denied
the existence of their God. Certainly Charles Darwin was one of
the greatest and purest of men—as free from prejudice as the
mariner’s compass—desiring only to find amid the mists and clouds
of ignorance the star of truth. No man ever exerted a greater
influence on the intellectual world. His discoveries, carried to their
legitimate conclusion, destroy the creeds and sacred scriptures of
mankind. In the light of Natural Selection, The Survival of the
Fittest, and The Origin of Species, even the Christian religion
becomes a gross and cruel superstition. Yet Darwin was an honest,
thoughtful, brave, and generous man.
Compare, I beg of you, these men, Humboldt and Darwin, with
the founders of the Presbyterian Church. Read the life of
Spinoza, the loving Pantheist, and then that of John Calvin, and
tell me, candidly, which, in your opinion, was a “ monster.” Even
your brethren do not claim that men are to be eternally punished
for having been mistaken as to the truths of geology, astronomy,
or mathematics. A man may deny the rotundity and rotation of
the earth, laugh at the attraction of gravitation, scout the nebular
hypothesis, and hold the multiplication table in abhorrence, and
yet join at last the angelic choir. I insist upon the same freedom
of thought in all departments of human knowledge. Reason is the
supreme and final test.
If God has made a revelation to man, it must have been ad
�dressed to his reason. There is no other faculty that could even
decipher the address. I admit that reason is a small and feeble
flame, a flickering torch by stumbiers carried in the starless night
—blown and flared by passion’s storm—and yet it is the only light.
Extinguish that, and naught remains.
You draw a distinction between what you are pleased to call
“ superstition ” and religion. You are shocked at the Hindoo
mother when she gives her child to death at the supposed com
mand of her god. What do you think of Abraham, of Jephthah ?
What is your opinion of Jehovah himself ? Is not the sacrifice of
a child to a phantom as horrible in Palestine as in India ? Why
should a god demand a sacrifice from man ? Wh y should the
infinite ask anything from the finite ? Should the sun beg of the
glow-worm, and should the momentary spark excite the envy of
the source of light ?
You must remember that the Hindoo mother believes that her
child will be for ever blest—that it will become the special care of
the god to whom it has been given. This is a sacrifice through a
false belief on the part of the mother, She breaks her heart for
love of her babe. But what do you think of the Christian mother
who expects to be happy in heaven, with her child a convict in the
eternal prison—a prison in which none die and from which none
escape ? What do you say of those Christians who believe that
they, in heaven, will be so filled with ecstasy that all the loved of
earth will be forgotten—that all the sacred relations of life and all
the passions of the heart will fade and die, so that they will look
with stony, unreplying, happy eyes upon the miseries of the lost ?
You have laid down a rule by which superstition can be distin
guished from religion. It is this : “ It makes that a crime which
is not a crime, and that a virtue which is not a virtue.” Let us
test your religion by this rule.
Is it a crime to investigate, to think, to reason, to observe ? Is
it a crime to be governed by that which to you is evidence, and is
it infamous to express your honest thought ? There is also another
question : Is credulity a virtue ? Is the open mouth of ignorant
wonder the only entrance to Paradise ?
According to your creed, those who believe are to be saved, and
those who do not believe are to be eternally lost. When you con
demn men to everlasting pain for unbelief—that is to say, for
acting in accordance with that which is evidence to them—do you
not make that a crime which is not a crime ? And when you
reward men with an eternity of joy for simply believing that which
happens to be in accord with their minds, do you not make that a
�( 6 )
virtue which is not a virtue ? In other words, do you not bring
your own religion exactly within your own definition of superstition ?
The truth is, that no one can justly be held responsible for his
thoughts. The brain thinks without asking our consent. We
believe, or we disbelieve, without an effort of the will. Belief is a
result. It is the effect of evidence upon the mind. The scales
turn in spite of him who watches. There is no opportunity of
being honest or dishonest in the formation of an opinion. The
conclusion is entirely independent of desire. We mnst. believe, or
we must doubt, in spite of what we wish.
That which must be, has the right to be.
We think in spite of ourselves. The brain thinks as the heart
beats, as the eyes see, as the blood pursues its course in the old
accustomed ways.
The question then is not, have we the right to think,—that
being a necessity,—but have we the right to express our honest
thoughts? You certainly have the right to express yours, and you.
have exercised that right. Some of your brethren, who regard me
as a monster, have expressed theirs. The question now is, have I
the right to express mine ? In other words, have I the right to
answer your letter ? To make that a crime in me which is a virtue
in you, certainly comes within your definition of superstition. To
exercise a right yourself which you deny to me is simply the act of
a tyrant. Where did you get your right to express your honest
thoughts ? When, and where, and how did I lose mine ?
You would not burn, you would not even imprison me, because
I differ with you mn a subject about which neither of us knows
anything. To you the savagery of the Inquisition is only a proof
of the depravity of man. You are far better than your creed.
You believe that even the Christian world is outgrowing the fright
ful feeling that fagot, and dungeon, and thumb-screw are legitimate
arguments, calculated to convince those upon whom they are used,
that the religion of those who use them was founded by a God of
infinite compassion. You will admit that he who now persecutes
for opinion s sake is infamous. And yet, the God you worship will,
according to your creed, torture through all the endless years the
man who entertains an honest doubt. A belief in such a God is
the foundation and cause of ’ all religious persecution. You may
reply that only the belief in a false God causes believers to be
inhuman. But you must admit that the Jews believed in a true
God, and you are forced to say that they were so malicious, so cruel,
so savage, that they crucified the only Sinless Being who ever lived.
This crime was committed, not in spite of their religion, but in
�accordance with it. They simply obeyed the command of Jehovah.
And the followers of this Sinless Being, who, for all these centuries,
have denounced the cruelty of the Jews for crucifying a man on
account of his opinion, have destroyed millions and millions of their
fellow men for differing with them. And this same Sinless Being
threatens to torture in eternal fire countless myriads for the same
offence. Beyond this, inconsistency cannot go. At this point
absurdity becomes infinite.
Your creed transfers the Inquisition to another world, making
it eternal. Your God becomes, or rather is, an infinite Torquemada, who denies to his countless victims even the mercy of death.
And this you call a “consolation.”
You insist that at the foundation of every religion is the idea
of God. According to your creed, all ideas of God, except those
entertained by those of your faith, are absolutely false. You are
not called upon to defend the gods of the nations dead, nor the
gods of heretics. It is your business to defend the God of the
Bible—the God of the Presbyterian Church. When in the ranks
doing battle for your creed, you must wear the uniform of your
Church. You dare not say that it is sufficient to insure the
salvation of a soul to believe in a god, or in some god. According
to your creed a man must believe in your god, All the nations
dead believed in gods, and all the worshippers of Zeus, and
Jupiter, and Isis, and Osiris, and Brahma prayed and sacrificed in
vain. Their petitions were not answered, and their souls were
not saved. Surely you do not claim that it is sufficient to believe
in any one of the heathen gods.
What right have you to occupy the position of the Deists, and to
put forth arguments that even Christians have answered ? The
Deist denounced the God of the Bible because of his cruelty, and
at the same time lauded the god of Nature. The Christian
replied that the god of Nature was as cruel as the God of the
Bible. This answer was complete.
I feel that you are entitled to the admission that none have been,
that none are, too ignorant, too degraded, to believe in the super
natural ; and I freely give you the advantage of this admission.
Only a few—and they among the wisest, noblest and purest of
the human race—have regarded all gods as monstrous myths. Yet
a belief of “ the true god ” does not seem to make men charitable
or just. For most people, theism is the easiest solution of the
universe. They are satisfied with saying that there must be a
being who created and who governs the world. But the universality
of a belief does not tend to establish its truth. The belief in the
�( 8 )
existence of a malignant devil has been as universal as the be lief in
a beneficent god, yet few intelligent men will say that the universality
of this belief in an infinite demon even tends to prove his existence.
In the world of thought majorities count for nothing. Truth has
always dwelt with the few.
Man has filled the world with impossible monsters, and he has
been the sport and prey of these phantoms born of ignorance and
hope and fear. To appease the wrath of these monsters man has
sacrificed his fellow man. He has shed the blood of wife and child ;
he has fasted and prayed ; he has suffered beyond the power of
language to express, and yet he has received nothing from the gods
—they have heard no supplication, they have answered no prayer.
You may reply that your God “ sends his rain on the just and
on the unjust,” and that this fact proves that he is merciful to all
alike. I answer, that your God sends his pestilence on the just
and on the unjust—that his earthquakes devour and his cyclones
rend and wreck the loving and the vicious, the honest and the
criminal. Do not these facts prove that your God is cruel to all
alike ? In other words, do they not demonstrate the absolute im
partiality of the divine negligence ?
Do you not believe that any honest man of average intelligence,
having absolute control of the rain, could do vastly better than is
being done ? Certainly there would be no droughts' or floods ; the
crops would not be permitted to wither and die, while rain was
being wasted in the sea. Is it conceivable that a good man with
power to control the winds would not prevent cyclones ? Would
you not rather trust a wise and honest man with the lightning ?
Why should an infinitely wise and powerful God destroy the
good and preserve the vile ? Why should he treat all alike here,
and in another world make an infinite difference ? Why should
your God allow his worshippers, his adorers, to be destroyed by his
enemies ? Why should he allow the honest, the loving, the noble,
to perish at the stake ? Can you answer these questions ? Does
it not seem to you that your God must have felt a touch of shame
when the poor slave mother—one that had been robbed of her
babe—knelt and with clasped hands, in a voice broken with sobs,
commenced her prayer with the words “ Our Father ” ?
It gave me pleasure to find that, notwithstanding your creed,
you are philosophical enough to say that some men are incapaci
tated, by reason of temperament, for believing in the existence of
God. Now, ,if a belief in God is necessary to the salvation of the
soul, why should God create a soul without this capacity ? Why
should he create souls that he knew would be lost ? You seem to
�think that it is necessary to be poetical, or dreamy, in order to be
religious, and by inference, at least, you deny certain qualities to
me that you deem necessary. Do you account for the Atheism of
Shelley by saying that he was not poetic, and do you quote his
lines to prove the existence of the very God whose being he so
passionately denied ? Is it possible that Napoleon—one of the
most infamous of men—had a nature so finely strung that he was
sensitive to the divine influences ? Are you driven to the neces
sity of proving the existence of one tyrant by the words of another?
Personally, I have but little confidence in a religion that satisfied
the heart of a man who, to gratify his ambition, filled half the
world with widows and orphans. In regard to Agassiz, it is just
to say that he furnished a vast amount of testimony in favor of the
truth of the theories of Charles Darwin, and then denied the
correctness of these theories—preferring the good opinion of
Harvard for a few days to the lasting applause of the intellectual
world.
I agree with you that the world is a mystery, not only, but that
everything in Nature is equally mysterious, and that there is no
way of escape from the mystery of life and death. To me, the
crystallization of the snow is as mysterious as the constellations.
But when you endeavor to explain the mystery of the universe by
the mystery of God, you do not even exchange mysteries—you
simply make one more.
Nothing can be mysterious enough to become an explanation.
The mystery of man cannot be explained by the mystery of God.
That mystery still asks for explanation. The mind is so that it
cannot grasp the idea of an infinite personality. That is beyond
the circumference. This being so, it is impossible that man can be
convinced by any evidence of the existence of that which he can
not in any measure comprehend. Such evidence would be equally
incomprehensible with the incomprehensible fact sought to be es
tablished by it, and the intellect of man can grasp neither the one
nor the other.
You admit that the God of Nature—that is to say, your God—
is as inflexible as Nature itself. Why should man worship the in
flexible ? Why should he kneel to the unchangeable ? You say
that your God “ does not bend to human thought any more than
to human will,” and that “ the more we study him, the more we
find that he is not what we imagined him to be.” So that after
all, the only thing you are really certain of in relation to your
God is, that he is not what you think he is. Is it not almost, ab
surd to insist that such a state of mind is necessary to salvation,
�( 10 )
or that it is a moral restraint, or that it is the foundation of
social order ?
The most religious nations have been the most immoral, the
I. cruellest, and the most unjust. Italy was far worse under the
Popes than under the Caesars. Was there ever a barbarian nation
more savage than the Spain of the sixteenth century ? Certainly
you must know that what you call religion has produced a thousand
civil wars, and has severed with the sword all the natural ties that
produce “ the unity and married calm of States.” Theology is
the fruitful mother of discord ; order is the child of reason. If you
will candidly consider this question, if you will for a few moments
forget your preconceived opinions, you will instantly see that the
instinct of self-preservation holds society together. People, being
ignorant, believed that the gods were jealous and revengeful.
They peopled space with phantoms that demanded worship and
delighted in sacrifice and ceremony, phantoms that could be
flattered by praise and changed by prayer. These ignorant people
wished to preserve themselves. They supposed that they could
in this way avoid pestilence and famine, and postpone perhaps the
day of death. Do you not see that self-preservation lies at the
foundation of worship? Nations, like individuals, defend and
protect themselves. Nations, like individuals, have fears, have
ideals, and live for the accomplishment of certain ends. Men
defend their property because it is of value. Industry is the
enemy of theft. Men as a rule desire to live, and for that reason
murder is a crime. Fraud is hateful to the victim. The majority
of mankind work and produce the necessities, the comforts, and
the luxuries of life. They wish to retain the fruits of their labor.
Government is one of the instrumentalities for the preservation of
what man deems of value. This is the foundation of social order,
and this holds society together.
Religion has been the enemy of social order because it directs
the attention of man to another world. Religion teaches its
votaries to sacrifice this world for the sake of that other. The
effect is to weaken the ties that hold families and states together.
Of What consequence is anything in this world compared with
eternal joy ?
You insist that man is not capable of self-government, and
that God made the mistake of filling a world with failures—in
other words, that man must be governed not by himself, but by
your God, and that your God produces order, and establishes and
preserves all the nations of the earth. This being so, your God is
responsible for the government of this world. Does he preserve
�(11)
S>
order in Russia ? Is he accountable for Siberia ? Did he establish
the institution of slavery ? Was he the founder of the Inquisition ?
You answer all these questions by calling my attention to
“the retributions of history.” What are the retributions of
history ? The honest were burned at the stake ; the patriotic,
the generous and the noble were allowed to die in dungeons ;
whole races were enslaved ; millions of mothers were robbed of
their babes. What were the retributions of history ? They who
committed these crimes wore crowns, and they who justified these
infamies were adorned with the tiara.
You are mistaken when you say that Lincoln at Gettysburg
said: “Just and true are thy judgments, Lord God Almighty.”
Something like this occurs in his last inaugural, in which he says__
speaking of his hope that the war might soon be ended—“ If it
shall continue until every drop of blood drawn by the lash shall be
paid by another drawn by the sword, still it must be said, ‘ The
judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.’ ” But
admitting that you are correct in the assertion, let me ask you one
question : Could one standing over the body of Lincoln, the blood
slowly oozing from the madman’s wound, have truthfully said :
“Just and true are thy judgments, Lord God Almighty ” ?
.Do you really believe that this world is governed by an infinitely
wise and good God ? Have you convinced even yourself of this ?
Why should God permit the triumph of injustice ? Why should
the loving be tortured ? Why should the noblest be destroyed ?
Why should the world be filled with misery, with ignorance and
with want ? What reason have you for believing that your God
will do better in another world than he has done and is doing in
this ? Will he be wiser ? Will he have more power ? Will he
be more merciful?
When I say “your God,” of course I mean the God described in
the Bible and the Presbyterian confession of faith. But again, I
say, that, in the nature of things, there can be no evidence of the
existence of an Infinite Being.
An Infinite Being must be conditionless, and for that reason
there is nothing that a finite being can do that can by any possibility
affect the well-being of the conditionless. This being so, man can
neither owe nor discharge any debt or duty to an Infinite Being.
The infinite cannot want, and man can do nothing for a Being
who wants nothing. A conditioned being can be made happy or
miserable by changing conditions, but the conditionless is absolutely
independent of cause and effect.
I do not say that a God does not exist, neither do I say that a
�( 12 )
God does exist; but I say that I do not know—that there can be no
evidence to my mind of the existence of such a Being, and that my
mind is so that it is incapable of even thinking of an infinite
personality.
I know that in your creed you describe God as
“ without body, parts, or passions.” This, to my mind, is simply
a description of an infinite vacuum. I have had no experience
with gods. This world is the only one with which I am acquainted,
and I was surprised to find in your lettter the expression that
“ perhaps others are better acquainted with that of which I am so
ignorant.” Did you, by this, intend to say that you know any
thing of any other state of existence—that you have inhabited
some other planet—that you lived before you were born, and that
you recollect something of that other world, or of that other state ?
Upon the question of immortality you have done me, unintention
ally, a great injustice. With regard to that hope, I have never
uttered a flippant or a trivial ” word. I have said a thousand
times, and I say again, that the idea of immortality, that, like a
sea, has ebbed and flowed in the human heart, with its countless
waves of hope and fear beating against the shores and rocks of time
and fate, was not born of any book, nor of any creed, nor of any
religion. It was born of human affection, and it will continue to
ebb and flow beneath the mists and clouds of doubt and darkness
as long as love kisses the lips of death.
I have said a thousand times, and I say again, that we do not
know, we cannot say, whether death is a wall or a door—the
beginning or end of a day—the spreading of pinions to soar, or the
folding forever of wings—the rise or set of a sun, or an endless life,
that brings rapture and love to every one.
The belief in immortality is far older than Christianity. Thou
sands of years before Christ was born billions of people had lived
and died in that hope. Upon countless graves had been laid in
love and tears the emblems of another life. The heaven of the
New Testament was to be in this world. The dead, aftei’ they
were raised, were to live here. Not one satisfactory word was said
to have been uttered by Christ—.-nothing philosophic, nothing clear,
nothing that adorns, like a bow of promise, the cloud of doubt.
According to the account in the New Testament, Christ was dead
for a period of nearly three days. After his resurrection, why did not
some one of his disciples ask him where he had been ? Why did
he not tell them what world he had visited ? There was the opportu
nity to “bring life and immortality to light.” And yet he was
silent as the grave that he had left—speechless as the stone that
angels had rolled away.
�( 13 )
How do you account for this ? Was it not infinitely cruel to
leave the world in darkness and in doubt when one word could
have filled time with hope and light ?
’
The hope of immortality is the great oak round which have
climbed the poisonous vines of superstition. The vines have not
supported the oak—the oak has supported the vines. As long as
men live, and love, and die, this hope will blossom in the human
heart.
All I have said upon this subject has been to express my hope
and confess my lack of knowledge. Neither by word nor look
have I expressed any other feeling than sympathy with those who
hope to live again—Tor those who bend above their dream of life
to come. But I have denounced tjbf, selfishness and heartlessness
of those who.'expect for themselves an eternity of joy, and for the
rest of mankind predict, 'Without a tear, a world of endless pain.
Nothing can be more contemptible thair, such a hope—a hope that
can give satisfaction only to the hyenas of the human race.
When I say that>1 do not know^tfheh'dh.deny the existence of
perdition, you-reply that “therefis something very cruel in this
treatment of the,belief of my fellow creatures.”
You have had the goodness to inyijte me to a grave over which a
mother bends an^v^ps for
only son.1 I accept your invitation.
We will go togetlj^r. £ Do not, pray yon,'Ideal in splendid generali
ties. Bh. explicit. Bemember fhat the son for whom the loving
mother weeps was not a Christian, not a believer in the inspiration
of the Bible nor in the divinity of Jesus Christ. The mother turns
to you for consolation, for some star of hope in the midnight of
•her grief. What must you say ? Do not desert the Presbyterian
creed. Do not forget the threatenings of Jesus: Christ. What
must you say ? Will you read a portion of the Presbyterian con
fession of faith ? Will you read this ?
“ Although the light of nature, and the works of creation and provi"
deuce, do so far maniflfc the goodness, wisdom, and power of God as
to leave man inexcusably yet they are not sufficient to give that know
ledge of God and of his will which is necessary to salvation.”
Or, will you read this ?
By the decree of God, for the manifestation of his glory, some men
and angels are predestined unto everlasting life and others foreordained
to everlasting death. These angels and men, thus predestined and
foreordained, are particularly and unchangeably designed, and their
number is so certain and definite that it cannot be either increased or
diminished.”
Suppose the mother, lifting her tear-stained face, should say:
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“ My son was good, generous, loving and kind. He gave his life
for me. Is there no hope for him ?” Would you then put this
serpent in her breast ?—
“ Men not professing the Christian religion cannot be saved in any
other way whatsoever, be they never so diligent to conform their lives
according to the light of nature. We cannot by our best works meA^
pardon of sin. There is no sin so small but that it deserves damnation’
Works done by unregenerate men, although for the matter of that they
may be things which God commands, and of good use both to them
selves and others, are sinful and cannot please God or make a man meet
to receive Christ or God.”
And suppose the mother should then sobbingly ask : “ What has
become of my son ? Where is he now ?” Would you still read
from your Confession of Faith, or from your Catechism, this ?—
“The souls of the wicked are cast into hell, where they remain in
torment and utter darkness, reserved to the judgment of the great day.
At the last day the righteous shall come into everlasting life, but the
wicked shall be cast into hell, to be punished with unspeakable torment,
both of body and soul, with the Devil and his angels forever.”
If the poor mother still wept, still refused to be comforted, would
you thrust this dagger in her heart ?—
“ At the Day of Judgment you, being caught up to Christ in the
clouds, shall be seated at his right hand and there openly acknowledged
and acquainted, and you shall join with him in the damnation of your
son.”
If this failed to still the beatings of her aching heart, would you
repeat these words which you say came from the loving soul of
Christ ?—
“ They who believe and are baptised shall be saved, and they who
believe not shall be damned; and these shall go away into everlasting
fire prepared for the Devil and his angels.”
Would you not be compelled, according to your belief, to tell
this mother that “ there is but one name given under heaven and
among men whereby ” the souls of men can enter the gates of
paradise ? Would you not be compelled to say : “Your son lived
in a Christian land. The means of grace were within his reach.
He died not having experienced a change of heart, and your son is
for ever lost. You can meet your son again only by dying in your
sins ; but if you will give your heart to God you can never clasp
him to your breast again.”
What could I say ? Let me tell you.
“ My dear madam, this reverend gentleman knows nothing of
another world. He cannot see beyond the tomb. He has simply
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stated to you the superstitions of ignorance, of cruelty and fear.
If there be in this universe a God, he certainly is as good as you
are. Why should he have loved your son in life—loved him,
according to this reverend gentleman, to that degree that he gave
his life for him ; and why should that love be changed to hatred
the moment your son was dead ?
“My dear woman, there are no punishments, there are no
rewards—there are consequences ; and of one thing you may
rest assured, and that is, that every soul, no matter what sphere it
may inhabit, will have the everlasting opportunity of doing right.
“ If death ends all, and if this handful of dust over which you
weep is all there is, you have this consolation: Your son is not
within the power of this reverend gentleman’s God—that is some
thing. Your son does not suffer. Next to a life of joy is the
dreamless sleep of death.”
Does it not seem to you infinitely absurd to call orthodox Chris
tianity “ a consolation ” ? Here in this world, where every human
being is enshrouded in cloud and mist—where all lives are filled
with mistakes—where no one claims to be perfect, is it “ a conso
lation ” to say that “ the smallest sin deserves eternal pain ” ? Is
it possible for the ingenuity of man to extract from the doctrine of
hell one drop, one ray, of “ consolation ” ? If that doctrine be
true, is not your God an infinite criminal ? Why should he have
created uncounted billions destined to suffer for ever ? Why did
he not leave them unconscious dust ? Compared with this crime,
any crime that any man can by any possibility commit is a virtue.
Think for a moment of your God—the keeper of an infinite
penitentiary filled with immortal convicts—your God an eternal
turnkey, without the pardoning power. In the presence of this
infinite horror, you complacently speak of the atonement—a
scheme that has not yet gathered within its horizon a billionth
part of the human race—an atonement with one-half the world
remaining undiscovered for fifteen hundred years after it was
made.
If there could be no suffering, there could be no sin. To un
justly cause suffering is the only possible crime. How can a God
accept the suffering of the innocent in lieu of the punishment
of the guilty ?
According to your theory, this infinite being, by his mere will,
makes right and wrong. This I do not admit. Right and wrong
exist in the nature of things—in the relation they bear to man,
and to sentient beings. You have already admitted that “ Nature
is inflexible, and that a violated law calls for its consequences.”
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I insist that no God can step between an act and its natural
effects. If God exists, he has nothing to do with punishment,
nothing to do with reward. From certain acts flow certain con
sequences ; these consequences increase or decrease the happiness
of man ; and the consequences must be borne.
A man who has forfeited his life to the commonwealth may be
pardoned, but a man who has violated a condition of his own
well-being cannot be pardoned—there is no pardoning power.
The laws of the State are made, and, being made, can be changed;
but the facts of the universe cannot be changed. The relation
of act to consequence cannot be altered.
This is above all
power, and consequently, there is no analogy between the laws of
the State and the facts in Nature. An infinite God could not
change the relation between the diameter and circumference of the
circle.
A man having committed a crime may be pardoned, but I deny
the right of the State to punish an innocent man in the place of
the pardoned—no matter how willing the innocent man may be to
suffer the punishment. There is no law in Nature, no fact in
Nature, by which the innocent can be justly punished to the end
that the guilty may go free. Let it be understood once for all:
Nature cannot pardon.
You have recognised this truth. You have asked me what is
to become of one who seduces and betrays, of the criminal with
the blood of his victim upon his hands. Without the slightest
hesitation I answer, whoever commits a crime against another
must, to the utmost of his power in this world and in another, if
there be one, make full and ample restitution, and in addition
must bear the natural consequences of his offence. No man can
be perfectly happy, either in this world or in any other, who has
by his perfidy broken a loving and a confiding heart. No power
can step between acts and consequences—no forgiveness, no atone
ment.
But, my dear friend, you have taught for many years, if
you are a Presbyterian, or an evangelical Christian, that a man
may seduce and betray, and that the poor victim, driven to
insanity, leaping from some wharf at night where ships strain
at their anchors in storm and darkness—you have taught that this
poor girl may be tormented for ever by a God of infinite com
passion. This is not all that you have taught. You have said to
the seducer, to the betrayer, to the one who would not listen to her
wailing cry—who would not even stretch forth his hand to catch
her fluttering garments—you have said to him : “ Believe in the
�( 17 J
Lord Jesus Christ; and you shall be happy forever; you shall live
iu the realms of infinite delight, from which you can, without a
shadow falling upon your face, observe the poor girl, your victim,
writhing in the agonies of hell.” You have taught this. For my
part, I do not see how an angel in heaven meeting another angel
whom he had robbed on the earth, could feel entirely blissful.
I go further. Any decent angel, no matter if sitting at the right
hand of God, should he see in hell one of his victims, would leave
heaven itself for the purpose of wiping one tear from the cheek of
the damned.
You seem to have forgotten your statement in the commence
ment of your letter, that your God is as inflexible as Nature—that
he bends not to human thought nor to human will. You seem to
have forgotten the line which you emphasised with italics : “ The
effect of everything which is of the nature of a cause, is eternal.” In
the light of this sentence, where do you find a place for your for
giveness—for your atonement ? Where is a way to escape from the
effect of a cause that is eternal? Do you not see that this sen
tence is a cord with which I easily tie your hands ? The scientific
part of your letter destroys the theological. You have put “ new
wine into old bottles,” and the predicted result has followed. Will
the angels in heaven, the redeemed of earth, lose their memory ?
Will not all the redeemed rascals remember their rascality ?
Will
not all the redeemed assassins remember the faces of the dead ?
Will not the seducers and betrayers remember her sighs, her tears,
and the tones of her voice, and will not the conscience of the
redeemed be as inexorable as the conscience of the damned ?
If memory is to be for ever “ the warder of the brain,” and if
the redeemed can never forget the sins they committed, the pain
and anguish they caused, then they can never be perfectly happy ;
and if the lost can never forget the good they did, the kind actions,
the loving words, the heroic deeds ; and if the memory of good
deeds gives the slightest pleasure, then the lost can never be per
fectly miserable. Ought not the memory of a good action to live
as long as the memory of a bad one ? So that the undying memory
of the good, in heaven, brings undying pain, and the undying
memory of those in hell brings undying pleasure. Do you not see
that if men have done good and bad, the future can’ have neither
a perfect heaven nor a perfect hell ?
I believe in the manly doctrine that every human being must
bear the consequence of his acts, and that no man can be justly
saved or damned on account of the goodness or the wickedness of
another.
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If by atonement you mean the natural effect of self-sacrifice,
the effects following a noble and disinterested action ; if you mean
that the life and death of Christ are worth their effect upon the
human race—which your letter seems to show—then there is no
question between us. If you have thrown away the old and bar
barous idea that a law had been broken, that God demanded a
sacrifice, and that Christ, the innocent, was offered up for us, and
that he bore the wrath of God and suffered in our place, then I
congratulate you with all my heart.
It seems to me impossible that life should be exceedingly joyous
to anyone who is acquainted with its miseries, its burdens, and its
tears. I know that as darkness follows light around the globe,
so misery and misfortune follow the sons of men. According to
your creed, the future state will be worse than this. Here, the
vicious-may reform ; here, the wicked may repent; here, a few
gleams of sunshine may fall upon the darkest life. But in your
future state, for countless billions of the human race, there will
be no reform, no opportunity of doing right, and no possible gleam
of sunshine can ever touch their souls. Do you not see that your
future state is infinitely worse than this ? You seem to mistake
the glare of hell for the light of morning.
Let us throw away the dogma of eternal retribution. Let us
“ cling to all that can bring a ray of hope into the darkness of this
life.”
You have been kind enough to say that I find a subject for cari
cature in the doctrine of regeneration. If, by regeneration, you
mean reformation—if you mean that there comes a time in the
life of a young man when he feels the touch of responsibility, and
that he leaves his foolish or vicious ways, aud concludes to act like
an honest man—if this is what you mean by regeneration, I am a
believer. But that is not the definition of regeneration in your
creed—that is not Christian regeneration. There is some mys
terious, miraculous, supernatural, invisible agency, called, I
believe, the Holy Ghost, that enters and changes the heart of
man, and this mysterious agency is like the wind, under the con
trol, apparently, of no one, coming and going when and whither it
listeth. It is this illogical and absurd view of regeneration that I
have attacked.
You ask me how it came to pass that a Hebrew peasant, born
among the hills of Galilee, had a wisdom above that of Socrates
or Plato, of Confucius or Buddha, and you conclude by saying,
“ This is the greatest of miracles—that such a being should live
and die on the earth.”
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I can hardly admit your conclusion, because I remember that
Christ said nothing in favor of the family relation. As a matter
of fact, his life tended to cast discredit upon marriage. He said
nothing against the institution of slavery; nothing against the
tyranny of government; nothing of our treatment of animals;
nothing about education, about intellectual progress ; nothing of
art, declared no scientific truth, and said nothing as to the rights
and duties of nations.
You may reply that all this is included in “ Do unto others as
you would be done by,” and “ Resist not evil.” More than this
is necessary to educate the human race. It is not enough to say
to your child or to your pupil, “ Do right.” The great question
still remains : What is right ? Neither is there any wisdom in
the idea of non-resistance. Force without mercy is tyranny. Mercy
without force is but a waste of tears. Take from virtue the right
of self-defence, and vice becomes the master of the world.
Let me ask you how it came to pass that an ignorant driver
of camels, a man without family, without wealth, became master
of hundreds of millions of human beings? How is it that he
conquered and overran more than half of the Christian world?
How is it that on a thousand fields' the banner of the cross went
down in blood while that of the crescent floated in triumph ?
How do you account for the fact that the flag of this impostor
floats to-day above the sepulchre of Christ ? Was this a miracle ?
Was Mohammed inspired ? How do you account for Confucius,
whose name is known wherever the sky bends ? Was he inspired
—this man who for many centuries has stood first, and who has
been acknowledged the superior of all men by thousands of
millions of his fellow-men ? How do you account for Buddha, in
many respects the greatest religious teacher this world has ever
known, the broadest, the most intellectual of them all; he who
was great enough, hundreds of years before Christ was born, to
declare the universal brotherhoood of man, great enough to say
that intelligence is the only lever capable of raising mankind ?
How do you account for him, who has had more followers than
any other ? Are you willing to say that all success is divine ? How
do you account for Shakespeare, born of parents who could neither
read nor write, held in the lap of ignorance and love, nursed at the
breast of poverty—how do you account for him, by far the greatest
of the human race, the wings of whose imagination still fill the
horizon of human thought; Shakespeare, who was perfectly ac
quainted with the human heart, knew all depths of sorrow, all
heights of joy, and in whose mind was the fruit of all thought, of
�( 20 )
all experience, and a prophecy of all to be ; Shakespeare, the
wisdom and beauty and depth of whose words increase with the
intelligence and civilisation of mankind ? How do you account
for this miracle ? Do you believe that any founder of any religion
could have written “ Lear ” or “ Hamlet ” ? Did Greece pro
duce a man who could by any possibility have been the author of
“ Troilus and Cressida ” ? Was there among all the countless
millions of almighty Rome an intellect that could have written
the tragedy of “ Julius Caesar ” ? Is not the play of “ Antony
and Cleopatra ” as Egyptian as the Nile ? How do you account
for this man, within whose veins there seemed to be the blood of
every race, and in whose brain there were the poetry and philo
sophy of a world ?
You ask me to tell my opinion of Christ. Let me say here,
once for all, that for the man Christ—for the man who, in the
darkness, cried out, “My God, why hast thou forsaken me ? ”—for
that man I have the greatest possible respect. And let me say,
once for all, that the place where man has died for man is holy
ground. To that great and serene peasant of Palestine I gladly
pay the tribute of my admiration and my tears. He was a reformer
in his day—an infidel in his time. Back of the theological mask,
and in spite of the interpolations of the New Testament, I see a
great and genuine man.
It is hard to see how you can consistently defend the course
pursued by Christ himself. He attacked with great bitterness
“ the religion of others.” It did not occur to him that “ there was
something very cruel in his treatment of the belief of his fellow
creatures.” He denounced the chosen people of God as a “ gene
ration of vipers.” He compared them to “ whited sepulchres.” How
can you sustain the conduct of missionaries ? They go to other
lands and attack the sacred beliefs of others. They tell the people
of India and of all heathen lands, not only that their religion is a
lie, not only that their Gods are myths, but that the ancestors of
these people, their fathers and mothers, who never heard of God,
of the Bible, or of Christ, are all in perdition. Is not this a cruel
treatment of the belief of a fellow-creature ?
A religion that is not manly and robust enough to bear attack
with smiling fortitude is unworthy of a place in the heart or brain.
Aireligion that takes refuge in sentimentality, that cries out: “Do
not, I pray you, tell me any truth calculated to hurt my feelings,”
is fit only for asylums.
You believe that Christ was God, that he was infinite in power.
While in Jerusalem he cured the sick, raised a few from the
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dead, and opened the eyes of the blind. Did he do these thingsbecause he loved mankind, or did he do these miracles simply to
establish the fact that he was the very Christ ? If he was actuated
by love, is he not as powerful now as he was then ? Why does he
not open the eyes of the blind now ? Why does he not, with a
touch, make the leper clean ? If you had the power to give sight
to the blind, to cleanse the leper, and would not exercise it, what
would be thought of you? What is the difference between one
who can, and will not cure, and one who causes disease?
Only the other day I saw a beautiful girl—a paralytic, and yet
her brave and cheerful spirit shone over the wreck and ruin of her
body like morning on the desert. What would I think of myself
had I the power by a word to send the blood through all her
withered limbs freighted again with life, should I refuse ?
Most theologians seem to imagine that the virtues have beenproduced by and are really the children of religion.
Religion has to do with the supernatural. It defines our duties
and obligations to God. It prescribes a certain course of conduct
by means of which happines s can be attained in another world.
The result here is only an incident. The virtues are secular.
They have nothing whatever to do with the supernatural, and are
of no kindred to any religion. A man may be honest, courageous,
charitable, industrious, hospitable, loving and pure without being
religious—that is to say, without any belief in the supernatural;
and a man may be the exact opposite and at the same time a sincere
believer in the creed of any church—that is to say, in the existence
of a personal God, the inspiration of the scriptures and the divinity
of Jesus Christ. A man who believes in the Bible may or may not
be kind to his family, and a m an who is kind and loving in his
family may or may not believe in the Bible.
In order that you may see t he effect of belief in the formation
of character, it is only necessa ry to call your attention to the fact
that your Bible shows that th e Devil himself is a believer in the
existence of your God, in the inspiration of the scriptures and in
the divinity of Jesus Christ. He not only believes these things,
but he knows them, and yet, in spite of it all, he remains a devil
still.
Few religions have been bad enough to destroy all the natural
goodness in the human heart. In the deepest midnight of super
stition some natural virtues, like stars, have been visible in the
heavens. Man has committed every crime in the name of Christi
anity—or at least crimes th at involved the commission of all
others. Those who paid for labor with the lash, and who made
�"blows a legal tender, were Christians. Those who engaged in the
slave trade were believers in a personal God. One slave ship was
called “The Jehovah.” Those who pursued, with hounds, the
fugitive led by the northern star, prayed fervently to Christ to
crown their efforts with success, and the stealers of babes, just
before falling asleep, commended their souls to the keeping of
the Most High.
As you have mentioned the Apostles, let me call your attention
to an incident.
You remember the story of Ananias and Sapphira.
The
Apostles, having nothing themselves, conceived the idea of having
all things in common. Their followers, who had something, were
to sell what little they had, and turn the proceeds over to
these theological financiers. It seems that Ananias and Sapphira
had a piece of land. They sold it, and after talking the matter
over, not being entirely satisfied with the collaterals, concluded to
keep a little—just enough to keep them from starvation if the good
and pious bankers should abscond.
When Ananias brought the money, he was asked whether he had
kept back a part of the price. He said that he had not; where
upon God, the compassionate, struck him dead. As soon as the
corpse was removed, the apostles sent for his wife. They did not
tell her that her husband had been killed. They deliberately set
a trap for her life. Not one of them was good enough or noble
enough to put her on her guard : they allowed her to believe that
her husband had told his story, and that she was free to corroborate
what he had said. She probably felt that they were giving more
than they could afford, and, with the instinct of a woman, wanted
to keep a little. She denied that any part of the price had been
kept back. That moment the arrow of divine vengeance entered
her heart.
Will you be kind enough to tell me your opinion of the apostles
in the light of this story ? Certainly murder is a greater crime
than mendacity.
You have been good enough, in a kind of fatherly way, to give
me some advice. You say that I ought to soften my colors, and
that my words would be more weighty if not so strong. Do you
really desire that I should add weight to my words ? Do you really
wish me to succeed ? If the commander of one army should send
word to the general of the other that his men were firing too high,
do you think the general would be misled ? Can you conceive of
his changing his orders by reason of the message ?
I deny that “ the Pilgrims crossed the sea to find freedom to
�( 23 )
worship God in the forests of the new world.” They came not in
the interest- of freedom. It never entered their minds that other
men had the same right to worship God according to the dictates
of their consciences, that the pilgrims had. The moment they had
power they were ready to whip and brand, to imprison and burn.
They did not believe in religious freedom. They had no more
idea of religious liberty of conscience than Jehovah.
I do not say that there is no place in the world for heroes and
martyrs. On the contrary, I declare that the liberty we now have
was won for us by heroes and by martyrs, and millions of these
martyrs were burned, or flayed alive, or torn in pieces, or assassi
nated by the Church of God. The heroism was shown in fighting
the hordes of religious superstition.
Giordano Bruno was a martyr. He was a hero. He believed
in no God, in no heaven and in no hell, yet he perished by fire.
He was offered liberty on condition that he would recant. There
was no God to please, no heaven to preserve the unstained white
ness of his soul.
For hundreds of years every man who attacked the Church was
a hero. The sword of Christianity has been wet for many cen
turies with the blood of the noblest.
Christianity has been
ready with whip and chain and fire to banish freedom from the
earth.
Neither is it true that “ family life withers under the cold sneer
—half pity half sneer—with which I look down on household
worship.”
Those who believe in the existence of God, and believe that they
are indebted to this divine being for the few gleams of sunshine in
this life, and who thank God for the little they have enjoyed, have
my entire respect. Never have I said one word against the spirit
of thankfulness. I understand the feeling of the man who gathers
his family about him after the storm, or after the scourge, or after
long sickness, and pours out his heart in thankfulness to the sup
posed God who has protected his fireside. I understand the spirit
of the savage who thanks his idol of stone, or his fetish of wood.
It is not the wisdom of the one nor of the other that I respect, it
is the goodness and thankfulness that prompt the prayer.
I believe in the family. I believe in family life, and one of my
objections to Christianity is that it divides the family. Upon this
subject I have said hundreds of times, and I say again, that the
roof-tree is sacred, from the smallest fibre that feels the soft, cool
clasp of the earth, to the topmost flower that spreads its bosom to
the sun, and like a spendthrift gives its. perfume to the air. The
�( 24)
home where virtue dwells with love is like a lily with a heart of
fire, the fairest flower in all this world.
What did Christianity in the early centuries do for the home ?
What have nunneries and monasteries, and what has the glorifica
tion of celibacy done for the family ? Do you not know that Christ
himself offered rewards in this world and eternal happiness in
another to those who would desert their wives and children and
follow him ? What effect has that promise had upon family life ?
As a matter of fact, the family is regarded as nothing. Christi
anity teaches that there is but one family, the family of Christ,
and that all other relations are as nothing compared with that.
Christianity teaches the husband to desert the wife, the wife
to desert the husband, children to desert their parents for the
miserable and selfish purpose of saving their own little, shrivelled
souls.
It is far better for a man to love his fellow men than to
love God. It is better to love wife and children than to love
Christ. It is better to serve your neighbor than to serve your God
—even if God exists. The reason is palpable. You can do nothing
for God. You can do something for wife and children, you can
add to the sunshine of life. You can paint flowers in the pathway
of another.
It is true that I am an enemy of the orthodox sabbath. It is
true that I do not believe in giving one-seventh of our time to the
service of superstition. The whole scheme of your religion can be
understood by any intelligent man in one day. Why should he
waste a seventh of his whole life in hearing the same thoughts
repeated again and again ?
Nothing is more gloomy than an orthodox Sabbath. The
mechanic who has worked during the week in heat and dust, the
laboring man who has barely succeeded in keeping his soul in his
body, the poor woman who has been sewing for the rich, may go to
the village church which you have described. They answer the
chimes of the bell, and what do they hear in this village church ?
Is it that God is the father of the human race ; is that all ? If
that were all, you never would have heard an objection from my
lips. That is not all. If all ministers said : Bear the evil of this
life ; your Father in heaven counts your tears ; the time will come
when pain and death and grief will be forgotten words—I should
have listened with the rest. What else does the minister say to
the poor people who have answered the chimes of your bell
He
says : “The smallest sin deserves eternal pain.” “ A vast majority
of men are doomed to suffer the wrath of God for ever.’ He fills
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the present with fear and the future with fire. He has heaven for
the few, hell for the many. He describes a little grass-grown path
that leads to heaven, where travellers are “ few and far between,”
and a great highway worn with countless feet that leads to ever
lasting death.
Such Sabbaths are immoral. Such ministers are the real sav
ages. Gladly would I abolish such a Sabbath. Gladly would I
turn it into a holiday, a day of rest and peace, a day to get ac
quainted with your wife and children, a day to exchange civilities
with your neighbors ; and gladly would I see the church in which
such sermons are preached changed to a place of entertainment.
Gladly would I have the echoes of orthodox sermons—the owls and
bats among the rafters, the snakes in crevices and corners—
driven out by the glorious music of Wagner and Beethoven. Gladly
would I see the Sunday-school, where the doctrine of eternal fire
is taught, changed to a happy dance upon the village green.
Music refines. The doctrine of eternal punishment degrades.
Science civilises. Superstition looks longingly back to savagery.
You do not believe that general morality can be upheld without
the sanctions of religion.
Christianity has sold, and continues to sell, crime on credit. It
has taught, and still teaches, that there is forgiveness for all. Of
course it teaches morality. It says : “ Do not steal, do not mur
der
but it adds : “ but if you do both, there is a way of escape ;
believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.” I in
sist that such religion is no restraint. It is far better to teach that
there is no forgiveness, and that every human being must bear the
consequence of his acts.
The first great step toward national reformation is the universal
acceptance of the idea that there is no escape from the consequences
of our acts. The young men who come from their country homes
into a city filled with temptations, may be restrained by the
thought of father and mother. This is a natural restraint. They
may be restrained by their knowledge of the fact that a thing is
evil on account of its consequences, and that to do wrong is always
a mistake. I cannot conceive of such a man being more liable to
temptation because he has heard one of my lectures in which I have
told him that the only good is happiness—that the only way to
attain that good is by doing what he believes to be right. I can
not imagine that his moral character will be weakened by the
statement that there is no escape from the consequences of his
acts.' You seem to think that he will be instantly led astray —
that he will go off under the flaring lamps to the riot of passion.
�( 26 )
Do you think the Bible calculated to restrain him ? To prevent
this would you recommend him to read the lives of Abraham, of
Isaac, and of Jacob, and the other holy polygamists of the Old
Testament ? Should he read the life of David, and of Solomon ?
Do you think this would enable him to withstand temptation?
Would it not be far better to fill the young man’s mind with facts,
so that he may know exactly the physical consequences of such
acts ? Do you regard ignorance as the foundation of virtue ? Is
fear the arch that supports the moral nature of man ?
You seem to think that there is danger in knowledge, and that
the best chemists are the most likely to poison themselves.
You say that to sneer at religion is only a step from sneering at
morality, and then only another step to that which is vicious and
profligate.
The Jews entertained the same opinion of the teachings of
Christ. He sneered at their religion. The Christians have en
tertained the same opinion of every philosopher. Let me say to
you again—and let me say it once for all—that morality has
nothing to do with religion. Morality does not depend upon the
supernatural. Morality does not walk with the crutches of miracles
Morality appeals to the experience of mankind. It cares nothing
about faith, nothing about sacred books. Morality depends upon
facts, something that can be seen, something known, the product
of which can be estimated. It needs no priest, no ceremony, no
mummery. It believes in the freedom of the human mind. It
asks for investigation. It is founded upon truth. It is the enemy
of all religion, because it has to do with this world, and with this
world alone.
My object is to drive fear out of the world. Fear is the gaoler
of the mind. Christianity, superstition—that is to say, the super
natural—makes every brain a prison and every soul a convict.
Under the government of a personal deity, consequences partake of
the nature of punishments and rewards. Under the government of
Nature, what you call punishments and rewards are simply conse
quences. Nature does not punish.
Nature does not reward.
Nature has no purpose. When the storm comes, I do not think :
“ This is being done by a tyrant.” When the sun shines, I do not
say : “ This is being done by a friend.” Liberty means freedom
from personal dictation. It does not mean escape from the relations
we sustain to other facts in Nature. I believe in the restraining
influences of liberty. Temperance walks hand in hand with freedom.
To remove a chain from the body puts an additional responsibility
upon the soul. Liberty says to the man: You injure or benefit
�yourself ; you increase or decrease your own well-being. It is a
question of intelligence. You need not bow to a supposed tyrant,
or to infinite goodness. You are responsible to yourself and to
those you injure, and to none other.
I rid myself of fear, believing as I do that there is no power
above which can help me in any extremity, and believing as I do
that there is no power above or below that can injure me in any
extremity. I do not believe that I am the sport of accident, or
that I may be dashed in pieces by the blind agency of Nature.
There is no accident, and there is no agency. That which happens
must happen. The present is the child of all the past, the mother
of all the future.
Does it relieve mankind from fear to believe that there is some
God who will help them in extremity ? What evidence have they
on which to found this belief ? When has any God listened to the
prayer of any man ? The water drowns, the cold freezes, the flood
destroys, the fire burns, the bolt of heaven falls—when and where
has the prayer of man been answered ?
Is the religious world to-day willing to test the efficacy of
prayer ? Only a few years ago it was tested in the United States.
The Christians of Christendom, with one accord, fell upon their
knees and asked God to spare the life of one man. You know the
result. You know just as well as I that the forces of Nature pro
duce the good and bad alike. You know that the forces of Nature
destroy the good and bad alike. You know that the lightning feels
the same keen delight in striking to death the honest man that it
does or would in striking the assassin with his knife lifted above
the bosom of innocence.
Did God hear the prayers of the slaves ? Did he hear the
prayers of imprisoned philosophers and patriots ? Did he hear the
prayers of martyrs, or did he allow fiends, calling themselves his
followers, to pile the fagots round the forms of glorious men ?
Did he allow the flames to devour the flesh of those whose hearts
were his ? Why should any man depend on the goodness of a
God who created countless millions, knowing that they would suffer
eternal grief ?
The faith that you call sacred—“ sacred as the most delicate or
manly or womanly sentiment of love and honor ”—is the faith that
nearly all of your fellow men are to be lost. Ought an honest man
to be restrained from denouncing that faith because those who
entertain it say that their feelings are hurt ? You say to me :
“ There is a hell. A man advocating the opinions you advocate
will go there when he dies.” I answer : “ There is no hell. The
�( 28 )
And you say : “ How can
Bible that teaches that is not true.”
you hurt my feelings ? "
You seem to think that one who attacks the religion of his
parents is wanting in respect to his father and mother.
Were the early Christians lacking in respect for their fathers and
mothers? Were the Pagans who embraced Christianity heartless
sons and daughters ? What have you to say of the Apostles ?
Did they not heap contempt upon the religion of their fathers and
mothers? Did they not join with him who denounced their people
as a “ generation of vipers ” ? Did they not follow one who offered
a reward to those who would desert father and mother ? Of course
you have only to go back a few generations in your family to find
a Field who was not a Presbyterian. After that you find a Presby
terian. Was he base enough and infamous enough to heap con
tempt upon the religion of his father and mother? All the
Protestants in the time of Luther lacked in respect for the religion
of their fathers and mothers. According to your ideas, progress is
a prodigal son. If one is bound by the religion of his father and
mother, and his father happens to be a Presbyterian and his mother
a Catholic, what is he to do ? Do you not se.e that your doctrine
gives intellectual freedom only to foundlings ?
If by Christianity you mean the goodness, the spirit of forgive
ness, the benevolence claimed by Christians to be a part, and the
principal part, of that peculiar religion, then I do not agree with
you when you say that <l Christ is Christianity and that it stands
or falls with him.” You have narrowed unnecessarily the founda
tion of your religion. If it should be established beyond doubt
that Christ never existed all that is of value in Christianity would
remain, and remain unimpaired. Suppose that we should find that
Euclid was a myth, the science known as mathematics would not
suffer. It makes no difference who painted or chiseled the greatest
pictures and statues so long as we have the pictures and statues.
When he who has given the world a truth passes from- the earth
the truth is left. A truth dies only when forgotten by the human
race. Justice, love, mercy, forgiveness, honor, all the virtues that
ever blossomed in the human heart, were known and practised for
uncounted ages before the birth of Christ.
You insist that religion does not leave man in “ abject terror ’ —
does not leave him “ in utter darkness as to his fate.”
Is it possible to know who will be saved ? Can you read the
names mentioned in the decrees of the infinite ? Is it possible to
tell who is to be eternally lost ? Can the imagination conceive a
worse fate than your religion predicts for a majority of the race ?
�( 29 )
Why should not every human being be in “ abject terror ” who be
lieves your doctrine ? How many loving and sincere women are in
the asylums to-day fearing that they have committed “ the un
pardonable sin”—a sin to which your God has attached the penalty
of eternal torment, and yet has failed to describe the offence ?
Can tyranny go beyond this—fixing the penalty of eternal pain for
the violation of a law not written, not known, but kept in the
secrecy of infinite darkness ? How much happier it is to know
nothing about it, and to believe nothing about it! How much
better to have no God.
You discover a “ great intelligence ordering our little lives, so
that even the trials that we bear, as they call out the finer elements
of character, conduce to our future happiness.” This is an old
explanation—probably as good as any. The idea is, that this
world is a school in which man becomes educated through tri
bulation—the muscles of character being developed by wrestling
with misfortune. If it is necessary to live this life in order to
develop character, in order to become worthy of a better world,
how do you account for the fact that billions of the human race
die in infancy, and are thus deprived of this necessary education
and development ? What would you think of a schoolmaster who
should kill a large proportion of his scholars during the first day,
before they had even an opportunity to look at A ?
You insist that “ there is a power behind nature making for
righteousness.”
If nature is infinite, how can there be a power outside of nature ?
If you mean by a “ power making for righteousness ” that man, as
he become civilised, as he become intelligent, not only takes ad
vantage of the forces of nature for his own benefit, but perceives
more and more clearly that if he be happy he must live in harmony
with the conditions of his being, in harmony with the facts by
which he is surrounded, in harmony with the relations he sustains
to others and to things; if this is what you mean, then there is
“ a power making for righteousness.” But if you mean that there
is something supernatural at the back of nature directing events,
then I insist that there can by no possibility be any evidence of the
existence of such a power.
The history of the human race shows that nations rise and fall.
There is a limit to the life of a race ; so that it can be said of every
nation dead, that there was a period when it laid the foundations
of prosperity, when the combined intelligence and virtue of the
people constituted a power working for righteousness, and that
there came a time when this nation became a spendthrift, when it
�( 30 )
ceased to accumulate, when it lived on the labors of its youth, and
passed from strength and glory to the weakness of old age, and
finally fell palsied to its tomb.
The intelligence of man guided by a sense of duty is the only
power that makes for righteousness.
You tell me that I am waging “ a hopeless war,” and you give
as a reason that the Christian religion began to be nearly two thou
sand years before I was born, and that it will live two thousand
years after I am dead.
Is this an argument ? Does it tend to convince even yourself ?
Could not Caiaphas, the high priest, have said substantially this
to Christ ? Could he not have said : “ The religion of Jehovah
began to be four thousand years before you were born, and it will
live two thousand years after you are dead ?” Could not a follower
of Buddha make the same illogical remark to a missionary from
Andover with the glad tidings ? Could he not say: “You are
waging a hopeless war. The religion of Buddha began to be
twenty-five hundred years before vou were born, and hundreds of
millions of people still worship at Great Buddha’s shrine ?”
Do you insist that nothing except the right can live for two
thousand years ? Why is it that the Catholic Church “ lives on
and on, while nations and kingdoms perish ? ” Do you consider that
the survival of the fittest ?
Is it the same Christian religion now living that lived during the
Middle Ages? Is it the same Christian religion that founded the
Inquisition and invented the thumb-screw ? Do you see no differ
ence between the religion of Calvin and Jonathan Edwards and the
Christianity of to-day ? Do you really think that it is the same
Christianity that has been living all these years ? Have you
noticed any change in the last generation? Do you remember
when scientists endeavored to prove a theory by a passage from
the Bible, and do you now know that believers in the Bible are
exceeding anxious to prove its trurn by some fact that science has
demonstrated? Do you know that the standard has changed?
Other things are not measured by the Bible, but the Bible has to
submit to another test. It no longer owns the scales. It has to
be weighed—it is being weighed—it is growing lighter and lighter
every day. Do you know that only a few years a go “the glad
tidings of great joy ” consisted mostly in a description of hell ?
Do vou know that nearly every intelligent minister is now ashamed
to preach about it, or to read about it, or to talk about it ? Is
there any change ? Do you know that but few ministers now be
lieve in “the plenary inspiration ” of the Bible, that from thou
�( 31 )
sands of pulpits people are now told that the creation according to
•Genesis is a mistake, that it never was as wet as the flood, and that
the miracles of the Old Testament are considered simply as myths
or mistakes ?
How long will what you call Christianity endure, if it changes
as rapidly during the next century as it has during the last ? What
will there be left of the supernatural ?
It does not seem possible that thoughtful people can, for many
years, believe that a being of infinite wisdom is the author of the Old
Testament, that a being of infinite purity and kindness upheld
polygamy and slavery, that he ordered his chosen people to mas
sacre their neighbors, and that he commanded husbands and fathers
to persecute wives and daughters unto death for opinion’s sake.
It does not seem within the prospect of belief that Jehovah, the
cruel, the jealous, the ignorant, and the revengeful, is the creator
and preserver of the universe.
Does it seem possible that infinite goodness would create a world
in which life feeds on life, in which everything devours and is
■devoured ? Can there be a sadder fact than this : Innocence is not
a certain shield ?
It is impossible for me to believe in the eternity of punishment.
If that doctrine be true, Jehovah is insane.
Day after day there are mournful processions of men and women,
patriots and mothers, girls whose only crime is that the word
Liberty burst into flower between their pure and loving lips, driven
like beasts across the melancholy wastes of Siberian snow. These
men, these women, these daughters go to exile and to slavery, to a
land where hope is satisfied with death. Does it seem possible to
you that an “ Infinite Father ” sees all this and sits as silent as a
god of stone ?
And yet, according to your Presbyterian creed, according to your
inspired book, according to your Christ, there is another procession,
in which are the noblest and the best, iu which you will find the
wondrous spirits of this world, the lovers of the human race, the
teachers of their fellow men, the greatest soldiers that ever battled
for the right; and this procession of countless millions in which
you will find the most generous and the most loving of the sons and
daughters of men, is moving on the Siberia of God, the land of
eternal exile, where agony becomes immortal.
How can you, how can any man with brain or heart, believe this
infinite lie ?
Is there not room for a better, for a higher philosophy ? After
all, is it not possible that we may find that everything has been
�( 32 )
necessarily produced, that all religions and superstitions, all mis
takes and all crimes were simply necessities ? Is it not possible
that out of this perception may come not only love and pity for
others, but absolute justification for the individual ? May we not
find that every soul Jias; like Mazeppa, been lashed to the wild
horse of passion, or like Prometheus, to the rocks of fate ?
You ask me to take the “sober second thought.” I beg of you
to take the first, and if you do you will throw-away the Presby
terian creed ; you will instantly perceive that he who commits the.
smallest sin ” no more deserves eternal pain than he who does;
the smallest virtuous deed deserves eternal bliss you will becomj*
convinced that an infinite God who creates billions of men
knowing that they will suffer through all the countless years is ah
infinite demon ; you will be satisfied that the Bible, with its
philosophy and its folly, with its goodness and its cruelty, is but
the work of man, and that the supernatural does not and cannot
exist.
For you personally I have the highest regard and the sincerest
respect, and I beg of you not to pollute the soul of childhood, not«
to furrow the cheeks of mothers, by preaching a ereed- that should
be shrieked in a mad-house^ Do not make the cradle as terri-blbj
as the coffin. Preach, I.pxay you, the gospel of intellectwj
hospitality—the liberty of thought and speech. Take from loving^
hearts the awful fear. Have mercy on your fellow men. Do not
drive to madness the mothers whose tears are falling on the pallid
faces of those who died in unbelief. ‘ Pity tbp,erring, wayward", I
suffering, weeping world. Do not proclaim as “ tidings of greatj
joy ” that an Infinite Spider*is weaving webs to catch the souls of
men.
1
I
�
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Faith and fact : a letter to the Rev. Henry M. Field
Creator
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Ingersoll, Robert Green [1833-1899]
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An account of the resource
Place of publication: London
Collation: 32 p. ; 18 cm.
Notes: Part of the NSS pamphlet collection. Reprinted from the North American Review, Nov. 1887. No. 22e in Stein checklist. Printed and published by G.W. Foote.
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Progressive Publishing Company
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1887
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N344
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Religion
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Text
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English
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Religion
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Text
GRACE.
PUBLISHED BY THOMAS SCOTT,
II THE TERRACE, FARQUHAR ROAD, UPPER NORWOOD,
LONDON, S.E.
1876.
Price Threepence.
�LONDON
THINTED BY C. TV. REYNELL, LITTLE TULTENET STREET,
HAYMARKET.
�GRACE.
------ *-----VICTIM to the received system of religious
education, I have suffered considerably for socalled conscience’ sake. Finding nay questions as
irritating to my instructors as their answers were
unsatisfactory to me, I early sank down into the
mould prepared for me, and at nine years old was at
the top of the religious class in a school I attended.
An excellent memory, a distinct utterance, and a
sort of knack of finding out texts with great rapidity,
were points in my favour, and as I soon left
off asking what were called impertinent questions,
it was assumed that the process of thinking had,
by the merciful interference of a superintending
Providence, been checked ere it had developed into
an insurmountable hindrance to salvation. At first
I did not think very much, but I thought a little, and
to some purpose. I learnt a hymn which contained
these lines : “ I thank the goodness and the grace
which on my birth have smiled, and made me in
these Christian days a happy English child. I was
not born, as thousands are, where God was never
known,” etc. I did not sufficiently value my privi
lege of sitting in a close room learning abstruse texts,
and when I looked at the pictures of little negroes in
sugar-plantations I did not pity them at all, but
thought that they had the best of it.
A
�6
Grace.
To check the free expression of thought is an
admirable means towards the desired end—the an
nihilation of thought itself—and had not a counter
influence been at work out of school I should, doubt
less, have become a “ chosen vessel.” As it was, I
went about, as numbers do, under false colours, sup
posed to be very pious, because I had a good verbal
memory, a quiet, old-fashioned manner, and great
digital dexterity in finding out passages in the Bible.
I seemed, of course, like a piece of wax, as all good
children should be, ready to receive any religious
impressions stamped upon me by my teachers. I
was being educated in hypocrisy under the name
of religion. The system was calculated to foster
conceit, and, until a few years ago, I thought I under
stood all that is included in the comprehensive word
grace. I was called a child of grace, I coveted grace,
prayed daily for an increase of it, explained its sup
posed effects to others, pleaded with those who seemed
indifferent to it, and mourned over those who had
fallen from it. My teachers used grace as synonymous
with self-denial, self-control, patience, fortitude, re
signation, etc., and I was accustomed to attribute all
that is elevating to its influence, and all that is
degrading to its absence. But? when a mere child, I
had silently observed the supposed effects of grace in
those who never resorted to the “means ” of it, and
before I had attained maturity, I had, when away
from the restraints of school, indulged in many a
flippant remark as to the inefficacy of grace in those
who seemed indefatigable in their strivings after it.
I was puzzled and disappointed, but not until many
years had elapsed did it occur to me that I had been
deceived, deceived by well-meaning individuals who
were themselves deceived, and who, I have every
reason to suspect, preferred to be deceived, and
would have gone on deceiving others, even if
they had permitted themselves to be undeceived.
�Grace*
7
My spiritual masters and mistresses told me that
grace was “ a supernatural gift freely bestowed upon
me for my sanctification and salvation.” I was early
taught to seem grateful that, while thousands of chil
dren were suffered to live and die in heathen lands,
where grace was unknown, I had been elected by
special favour to be “a member of Christ, a child of
God, and an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven.”
I knew that the unbaptized were the devil’s children,
that God hated them, that they could get no grace
because they were not in a “ state of grace,” and that
actions, to all appearance meritorious, were of no avail
at all towards salvation unless they were performed
in “ a state of grace.” I was exhorted to thank God
repeatedly for the grace of baptism and to look upon
the unbaptized with a mixture of pity and horror.
But for “ prevenient grace,” I should, they told me,
yield to the suggestions of my corrupt nature and
tell lies, give blow for blow, steal, cheat, and become
a hardened sinner.
At school I committed to memory a surprising
number of hymns. I knew that grace was “ a charm
ing sound,” that there was “a fountain filled with
blood,’’ and that I deserved “ his holy frown.” But
at an early age grace began to lose ground in my
estimation. At home hymns were not esteemed;
my parents never asked me to repeat them, and
of “ grace ” I never heard, save at school. I
had a playfellow, about my own age, named Bobby.
Bobby’s real father was the devil, but his reputed
father was a respectable and respected Quaker who
lived close to us, a widower, with two attractive
children, whose education was his sole occupation.
Bobby was a gentle, manly, intelligent child, the
peace-maker in all squabbles, and a great favourite
in the play-ground. In the person of this little
Quaker, Satan had succeeded admirably in transform
ing himself into an angel of light, for a superficial
�Grace.
observer might easily have mistaken. Bobby for “ a
member of Christ, a child of God, and an inheritor
of the kingdom of heaven.” I knew better—I knew
that he was a child of wrath—that God’s holy frown
rested upon him, and that unless God in his infinite
mercy should call him to the font, his portion would
be “everlasting pains, where sinners must with
devils dwell, in darkness, fire, and chains.” Bobby
never was taken to a place of worship; he was
taught no prayers, and knew no hymns. He squinted
abominably, and it was in consequence of that sad
blemish that my childish thoughts were drawn to a
common-sense view of grace. He was taken to an
oculist, and returned with a most disfiguring glass
over one eye, in comparison with which the squint
seemed almost an embellishment. Poor Bobby ! we
laughed at him, pointed at him, danced round him,
squinted at him, and called him “ old goggle-eye !” I
had frequently wondered at the engaging manners and
generous conduct of the devil’s little boy, but on this
occasion he surpassed himself. He turned red, his
lips quivered, the well-known “ ball ” rose in his
throat, but with steady voice he said, “ You have
nearly made me cry ; you do not know how painful
my eye is; the doctor said crying would make it
worse; I promised him I would not cry. See, I
have got a shilling, let us go and spend it and play
at something else.” “I’ll tell father, see if I don’t! ”
said Bobby’s brother, with fraternal indignation, “ and
he shall know how that shilling went.” “Ho, you
will not,” said Bobby, laughing, “ for a tell-tale is
even worse than a teaze ! ” Of course we all de
clared we were only in fun, etc., but I felt keenly
that the children of God had not set the devil’s little
boy a very good example, and I valued my religious
privileges less from that hour. I continued commit
ting many hymns and texts to memory, but I suppose
I had already “fallen from grace,” for though I
�Grace.
9
recited them with my usual accuracy, they interested
me less. I left off begging to be allowed to learn
some particular hymns, and many of my former
favourites faded unregretted from my memory. My
schoolmistress was an Evangelical gentlewoman, and
I was one of her most attentive pupils. Hearing me
say that Bobby could be good without grace, she
looked very grave, and, turning to an assistant
teacher, remarked, “ How amazing it is that parents
suffer their children to associate with the uncon
verted ! ” I repeated her words to my father. Un
like most parents, he spoke very openly, and explained
to me in very simple language that he had never
observed any moral superiority in the baptized, and
that in his own circle of acquaintances he had found
more genial characters among the unbaptized. He
drew my attention to a gentleman who was a con
stant visitor at our house, one who was in great
favour with all the children who knew him, in conse
quence of his imperturbable good humour and amiable
devotion to their little interests. “That man,” said
my father, “was brought up among the Quakers, and
though he is not a Quaker now, has never been bap
tized, and I cannot see in what respect he would
be a better member of society if he had.
The
gentleman in question was a great ally of mine, and
his children were my playmates. It would have
been difficult to find better people than were these
who had taken no pains to cleanse themselves from
their inherited filth, and it is not surprising that,
with such amiable associates, a child under twelve
should lose sight of the inestimable privilege of
“ grace ” and cease to attribute virtuous conduct to
its influence. I gave up caring about grace. I let
it go without a regret, little knowing that a few
years later I should give myself wholly to its sup
posed influence, and suffer exceedingly in mind and
body ere I succeeded in wrenching myself from a
�iO
Grace.
grasp which was crushing my individuality out of
me.
Before my childhood was quite over an incident
occurred which I shall relate, for it made an im
pression, and preserved me from rushing in after life
into certain extremes, towards which my devotional
acquaintances tended.
There was a lumber-room in Bobby’s house ; books,
pictures, ornaments and furniture, which had been
undisturbed since his mother’s death, were heaped
together in dusty confusion. The humour seized
Bobby to sort out the objects and put the room to
rights. He asked me to help him and we set to work.
I caught hold of a mutilated copy of a book called
‘ The Soul on Calvary,’ and my eyes fell upon the
following incredible and revolting passage:—
“ We will here relate the example of a most
heroic patience in sickness and of a most perfect love
of God in the heart. Perhaps it may wound the
delicacy of some ; but many others will have sufficient
greatness of soul to be edified and touched by it. A
person had fallen into a malady equally painful and
humiliating : a great sore was formed, which, in the
course of time, had engendered a quantity of worms.
This person was eaten up alive by them, and suffered
excessive pains ; yet her lively love of God surmounted
the violence of her sufferings to such a degree that
if any of her worms happened to fall, she picked them
up and replaced them in the sore, saying that she was
unwilling to lose any part of the merit of her suffer
ings, and that she considered those worms as so
many precious pearls which might one day adorn her
crown.” From the disgust excited in me by this
horrible statement, I never rallied, though I was sub
sequently thrown into daily contact with people whose
religious fervour would have inclined them to go and
do likewise.
‘ The Soul on Calvary ’ is a cheap book widely
�Grace.
ii
circulated among Roman Catholics, many of whom
would not shrink from putting into practice the wild
and filthy experiments suggested by the perusal of
that and similar fanatical works.
At a boarding-school, to which I was sent "for six
months for change of air, considerable attention was
paid to the religious instruction of the children. I was
slowly regaining my strength, after a long illness, and
was probably more susceptible to what are called spiri
tual influences than I should otherwise have been; more
over, I was at the impressionable age of fourteen, and
of a grave turn of mind. I was soon “full of grace;” that
is to say, I thought and heard of little else; answering
Scripture questions occupied a great portion of my
time, for, being very weak, I was not required to study
much, and it cost me but little trouble to get up all
the hymns, catechisms, texts, collects, etc., with which
I had formerly been somewhat overburdened. I was
soon a great favourite with my teacher, and to “ grow
in grace” once more became the great object of
my life. For a few years I had been neglecting
grace, but had not retrograded morally, and was
not a whit more unruly than my more persevering
companions.
Schooled in grace for the second time, and
thoroughly engrossed with self, I should, I ima
gine, have become very much like the ideal my
teacher had in view. . She tried hard to work upon
the feelings of her pupils, and I have seen a child of
seven years leave the class in tears, and retire sobbing,
at the thought of her ingratitude to her Saviour; and
we were taught to admire the “ workings of grace ”
in her heart, and to deplore our own indifference. Of
practical piety I do not remember hearing. Faith, grace,
hymns, Bible questions and the Church prayers seemed
all in all. We were not encouraged to make clothes for
the poor, or to deny ourselves anything for the sake
of others; for the souls of others we were earnestly
�12
Grace.
enjoined to pray, but of their bodily wants I neverheard. Once, in consequence of illness, I and another'
girl of sixteen were the sole occupants of a room.
I remarked with horror that she did not kneel downbefore getting into bed. “ Why, Emily,” said I,
f‘you have forgotten your prayers.” “You meanthat I have forgotten to kneel down. I never say
prayers, but I kneel down in the big room because of
the others; I do not mind you.” “ But do you not
mind God,” asked I, with sincere surprise. “ No,”
said she, “ God minds me ! ” I was too much grieved^
to notice the drollery of the remark. Presently she*
resumed, “ What do you. suppose becomes of the
sponge-cakes ? ” I knew dozens of them were con
veyed to the boarders through one of the ser
vants, and now I was informed that they were always
devoured during the extempore prayer made every
evening by a teacher; it lasted, with other devotions,
twenty minutes, and as the girls turned to the wall
during prayers the opportunity was favourable to the
enjoyment of soft cakes. Emily’s revelations sad
dened me indescribably. Had she been an unprin
cipled, unruly, low-minded girl, I should have been
relieved, but, like the graceless Bobby of my child
hood, Emily was superior to the other girls in moral
worth; she never copied sums, verbs, &c., from her
neighbour’s slate, and had often surprised me by her
readiness to admit ignorance, to offer an apology, and,
in short, to act as if this so-called grace had taken
firm hold of her ; but she did not care about grace,
she even called it “ a hoax,” and said that all the
religious people she knew were very disagreeable.
Her father had yielded to the wishes of his wife in
sending her to this school, and as she was soon about
to leave it, she spoke, as all girls do under such cir
cumstances, with reckless candour.
Hypocrisy must infect those who are taught so
many solemn and startling confessions, creeds, hymns.
�Grace.
and texts long before they can understand them..
Emily had discontinued her prayers because she did
not assent to the assertions in them. lc As God made
me,” said she, “ he must know me far better than I
know myself, and therefore it seems very silly to pre
tend to inform him. I am not going to say ‘ I have
followed too much the devices and desires of my own
heart,’ because it is not true; if I were to follow
those desires I should be off in the morning, in spite
of my influenza.”
All she said made me feel extremely uncomfortable,
—she had given up grace, and yet seemed thoroughly
good. However, my six months of school life were
fortunately over, and I returned to a home where all
that is estimable was inculcated without any allusion
to hymns, grace, or any other supernatural means of
arriving at the ordinary virtues which should dis
tinguish the members of a civilized community. I
do not think my father had a Bible ; I never saw him
use one, save to look out some disputed text.
Having been forced in his boyhood to read the Bible
exclusively, he made up for it in his manhood by
reading any book except the Bible. Away from the
gracious influences which for a brief season had
surrounded me, shaken somewhat by Emily’s ex
perience, and highly dissatisfied with my own
immature conclusions, I soon grew very lukewarm as
to prayer and other religious practices, and was
actually learning “ to be good and to do good ” with
out having recourse to the supernatural. I was,
however, ill at ease within, for I had been so
thoroughly impressed with the necessity of grace,
that I was quite alarmed to find how easily I had let
it go and how very well I could do without it. I was
afraid of myself knowing, or rather having been
taught, that in me “ dwelt no good thing,” and I was
greatly perplexed to find no unholy tendencies arise
now that grace had Jost its hold on me. I should
�>4
Grace.
have been quite delighted to have been able to detect
some moral retrogression, which I should have been
justified in attributing to a withdrawal of grace.
I ardently wished to believe in the efficacy of prayer
and indeed in all the doctrines I had been
taught in my childhood, but I was losing both
faith and confidence. I pretended I had not lost
either.
I was afraid to think anything out.
About that time I was invited to pass a few
weeks with a lady and gentleman at Sydenham.
Owing to curious circumstances the lady, though a
Protestant, had been educated in a convent, and was
quite familiar with all the tenets of the various
religious sects. She talked, and apparently thought
frequently about piety, grace, resignation, etc., and
said she intended to leave a large portion of her
wealth to those who had grounded her in religion.
She was, as far as I could judge, an essentially worldly
woman, and, owing probably to her wretched health,
of a singularly trying disposition. In her husband
all those virtues, specially intended, where Christian
virtues are named, shone conspicuously, and I shall
never forget my amazement when with the utmost
composure he informed me that he was hostile to
every form of religion, and that, though it grieved
him sorely to thwart his wife, he had absolutely for
bidden her to teach his little nephew, who lived with
them, any creed, catechism or hymn; she gained her
point as to the Lord’s prayer, which the boy repeated
every night in the drawing-room, beginning thus,—
“ Our Father charty neaven.”
Full twenty years have passed since the day when
I discovered that the man whose character I so much
admired, whose forbearance so much amazed me, and
whose abstemiousness bordered upon the marvellous,
was what is called an infidel! Would that I could
meet him now! How readily would I confess to
him that ‘'whereas I was blind, now I see,”—see that
�Grace.
J5
I was the real infidel, faithless to my own secret con
victions, and faithless to the tenets I was supposed
to have embraced. Fettered by formulas, vague
fears, and by a feeling of restraint which for years
prevented me from daring to be myself, I was unable
to assimilate the wholesome ingredients in the sensible
conversation of my infidel friend, who sought to wean
me from useless theological speculations, and en
deavoured to direct my attention to things practical.
I was then and for years afterwards in the position
which Fichte has so clearly described : “ Instructions
were bestowed upon me before I sought them; an
swers were given me before I had put questions;
without examination and without interest I had
allowed everything to take place in my mind. How
then could I persuade myself I possessed any real
knowledge in these matters ? I only knew what
others assert they know, and all I was sure of was
that I had heard this or that upon the subject. What
ever truth they possessed could have been obtained
only by their own reflection, and why should not I by
means of the same reflection discover the like truth
for myself, since I too have a being as well as they ?
How much I have hitherto undervalued and slighted
myself ! ”
My infidel friend was aware that I was by no means
blind to his many good qualities, for I was frequently
present, to my great discomfort, when he was severely
tried, and was forced to acknowledge that he behaved
like a saint.
“ Well, little lady,” said he one day when we were
speaking of grace, “ I hate the very word grace, I
don’t fully understand its meaning, and as lean do very
well without it, I should consider it a superfluity;
but tell me to what you attribute all that strikes you
as good in me, for as I am the only graceless dog you
know, myself must be my subject ? ”
I had repeatedly asked myself that question, and
�i6
Grace.
invariably winced at my own answer. According to
my religious notions he ought to have been conspicu
ous for moral depravity, but according to my common
sense it seemed to me that no amount of grace could
make him a more genial specimen of a moral man
than he was. However, I said that as he had been
baptized and had been taught to pray in his childhood,
he must have received many graces, and that his
avoidance of great sins was due to God’s grace, which
had preserved him from great temptations. He smiled
as he replied : “ I am afraid your surmise will fall to
the ground when you hear that I early gave up my
prayers. I had a great misfortune when quite a little
fellow. I smashed a most expensive and much-valued
old china jar to atoms. My thoughts instantly flew
to the omnipotent and benevolent Being whose eyes
were in every place, and I ran upstairs to my little
cot, by the side of which I knelt, and most earnestly
entreated God to mend the jar and replace it upon the
bracket before my father returned. Down I rushed, fully
expecting to find all as I wished, the fragments gone,
and the jar in its place. At the bottom of the stairs
stood my poor nurse, too agitated to scold me, feeling
that she would get most of the blame, and dreading
the return of ‘ Master.’ Ko words can convey my
bitter disappointment at seeing the fragments where I
had left them. I had prayed with faith and hope;
but there was no new jar upon the bracket, and never
again did I turn with confidence to that omnipotent
and benevolent Being who had not helped me out of
my terrible scrape.”
What good end Providence had in view by throw
ing me into contact with Bobby, Emily, and this
honourable infidel, pious people have never explained
to me. “ To try your faith,” they told me ; but seemed
at fault when I asked if Providence foresaw that I
should lose my faith.
My visit ended, I returned home ill at ease, honestly
�Grace.
!7
doubting, but dishonestly concealing my doubts for
so-called conscience’ sake. It would, I thought, be
awful to become an infidel, and thus expose myself to
the just indignation of my maker; but it did not occur
to me for some years that my insincerity must long
have rendered me odious in the eyes of the searcher of
hearts, the God of truth, and that I had been in jeo
pardy ever since I had dared to use my own judgment
concerning grace and its effects.
In looking over the past I can say, with the utmost
deliberation, that in my case religion was a hindrance
instead of a help, as it is intended to be. While re
calling my past experience I feel sincerely sorry for
myself and for those who, owing to my devout adhe
rence to sundry New Testament injunctions which I
had “ grace” enough to carry out, suffered acutely.
The certainty that but few have sufficient “grace” to
“ go and do likewise,” is a source of satisfaction to
me. Were I not convinced by hardly-earned experi
ence of the futility of prayer, I would pray with great
fervour that the meaning I discerned in Gospel teach
ing might be for ever hidden from their eyes lest they
should become “ converted” and show forth their
faith as I did. By nature frank and fearless, I early
profited by the lessons taught me by my ghostly coun
sellors, and learnt, like multitudes of other young
people, to conceal what passed within, and to be afraid
of my corrupt nature, and of all that emanated there
from. I was afraid of thinking, of using my own
mind, of following my own impulses, in short, of being
myself.
Conscious of insincerity, alarmed at the probable
consequences of sincerity, siding secretly with what
are called dangerous opinions, frightened at my ten
dencies, confessing with my lips what my understand
ing refused to digest, clinging to planks which I felt
could ill bear my weight, I went on praying that
infidels might be brought to the knowledge of the
�Grace.
truth, but never realising the melancholy fact that
I myself was an arch infidel, for I was a dissembler
before God and man ; reciting incredible creeds in the
house of the former, and carefully concealing my real
sentiments from the latter.
After a while, by dint of pious reading, pious
friends, and lonely visits to sundry churches, I shook
off for a season some of my most disturbing doubts,
and, during four or five years “grace” assuredly
triumphed over nature, and, but for the timely inter
ference of common sense, I too might have been dis
covered magnanimously replacing fallen creepers in
their home on my epidermis !
“ Grace” prompted me to despise “the world,” to
keep aloof from my fellow-creatures, to become
odiously unsociable, and, in adhering to what I con
ceived to be the strict line of duty to God, to disregard,
all the little courtesies and concessions to others as
“ Satanic varnish,” deviations from truth, worldly
wisdom, &c. Reproaches or remonstrances had the
effect of making me persevere still more obstinately
in the course I had chosen. I felt like a martyr
“ persecuted for righteousness ” sake, and was su
premely happy in the conviction that an unusual
amount of grace was bestowed upon me. My spiritual
advisers encouraged me in despising all human con
siderations, and in devoting myself exclusively to my
religious duties, assuring me that the world would
certainly hate me as it had hated Christ, but that I
must “ overcome the world.” In short, I acted upon
the conviction that “ the friendship of the world is
enmity with God,” and that unless I came “ out from
among them ” I was no worthy member of a Head
crowned with thorns. I had the sweet approval of
my own conscience, and felt sure that God was on my
side, so did not fear what man might do unto me.
The requirements of the Gospel seemed to me
peremptory and unmistakable, and as long as I re-
�Grace.
*9
mained under the absorbing influence of what is
called “ grace” I did my best to carry them out; but
a change came over me; old doubts assailed me with
fresh vigour; they took firm hold of me, and I could
not shake them off. During those years of religious
zeal I had been undisturbed by misgivings, and had
acted with sincerity. I look back upon them with
mingled amusement and regret, and rejoicing that I
was at length enabled to be as true to my doubts as
I bad been to my folly and fanaticism. Of course it
will be said by many that I had been guilty of absurd
exaggeration, and that true religion does not demand
that we should fly in the face of the world, that it is
possible to continue in “ grace” without sternly
abjuring “ the world,” &c. ; but such a compromise
seemed to me then impossible, and, to be perfectly
candid, I am still of opinion that to yield to the dic
tates of “ grace ” is to become what I was once, but
with my enlarged experience can never be again.
“ Grace,” as understood by the orthodox, had taken
great effect upon me; it had done its work right well,
and rendered me quite unfit for this world, and, there
fore, as I was persuaded, a worthier candidate for the
other. In my exuberant self-satisfaction, I failed to
see that by steady adherence to my favourite Gospel
texts I was daily sinking deeper into that slough of
selfishness, bigotry, and intolerance, in which the
“Lord’s people” are wont to wallow. I knowmany who
are “ full of grace ;” I avoid them, for a “ burnt child
dreads the fire.” Withdrawn from the pernicious
influence of “ grace,” I can now look dispassionately
on my former God-fearing self, and see myself in the
light in which I must have appeared to those who
deplored my “ supernatural ” tendencies, and des
paired of my return to common sense. Released
from the fetters which so tightly bound me, and
which in my blindness I hugged so fondly, I have
now the “ grace ” to see, and the candour to confess,
�20
Grace.
that I was the victim of a degrading delusion. I have
returned to the miserable “ worldlings,” who are onlydoing their duty, and striving to make the best of the
only world of which we have any knowledge, and in
which I hope I may have “ grace ” to lead a rational
life and set a natural example !
PRINTED BY C. W. REYNELL, LITTLE PULTENEY STREET, HAYMARKET.
�
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Grace
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 18 p. ; 19 cm.
Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Published anonymously. Author believed to be Annie Besant. "A victim to the received system of religious education, I have suffered considerably of so-called conscience' sake". [Opening sentence]. Printed by C.W. Reynell, Little Pulteney Street, London.
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Besant, Annie Wood
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1876
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Thomas Scott
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Rationalism
Free thought
Education
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Conway Tracts
Free Thought
Religion
Religious Education
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PDF Text
Text
Haeckels
Coptributicp
To Religiop
A. S. MORIES,
Author of “A Religion that Will Wear”
[issued
for the rationalist press association, limited]
WATTS & CO.,
17, JOHNSON’S COURT, FLEET STREET. LONDON, E.C.
1904
��*
■ **■■*
CONTRIBUTION
RELIGION
S. MORIES
Author of “ A Religion that Will Wear
[ISSUED FOB TSE RATIONALIST PRESS ASSOCIATION.> limited]
Al
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WATTS & co.,
17, JOHNSON’S COURT, FLEET STREET, LONDON, E.C.
1904
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TO THE MEMORY OF
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WILLIAM HASTIE, D.D.,
PROFESSOR OF DIVINITY, UNIVERSITY OF GLASGOW,
SCHOLAR, THINKER, AND POET,
WHOSE GENEROUS AND STIMULATING FRIENDSHIP
I DESIRE THUS TO ACKNOWLEDGE.
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�CONTENTS
PAGE
CHAPTER I.
What
is the
Essence of Religion?
7
CHAPTER II.
Haeckel’s Contribution
of
Science
to
Religion—The Contribution
------
13
CHAPTER III.
Herbert Spencer’s Contribution to Religion—The Con
tribution of
Agnosticism
-
-
*
27
CHAPTER IV.
Hegel’s Contribution to Religion—The Contribution of
Psychology
-
-
-
*.
.
*
48
CHAPTER V.
The Mystics’ Contribution ’uo Religion—The Contribu
tion of
Spiritual Insight
.
.
-
.
59
CHAPTER VI.
Wanted—A New Butler
69
�PREFACE
“ Too far East is West ” is a proverb which has its
counterpart even in philosophy. One object of this little
volume is t® show, however inadequately, that a rigorously
applied Materialism ends of necessity in Idealism—that,
however they may seem to differ in their methods, Science
and Religion are in the end inseparable.
The title adopted does not cover the full scope of the
argument, but it draws the reader’s attention to its most
important illustration.
Professor Loofs, in his Anti-Haeckel (English edition),
makes it plain that he does not deal at all with Haeckel’s
“standpoint,” nor with his “view of the world,” but
merely with “ the audacious statements he has made regard
ing Christianity and its history.’1 My purpose is exactly
the reverse. It is of Haeckel’s “ view of the world ” that I
propose to treat. For that is the one essential matter in his
whole argument. It is there that he has to be met, not in
his incursions into theology, a subject which he frankly
admits “in the strict sense is quite out of my line.” I aim
here at supplying a corrective to the anti-religious interpre
tations that have been put on Haeckel’s main thesis, and
at supplying that corrective in his own words, as well as
5
�6
PREFACE
by means of the analogous and most deliberate declarations
of Herbert Spencer.
While I take the contention here expounded to be
Haeckel’s own contention, I desire to make it clear that
for the opinions here expressed the Rationalist Press
Association is to be held in no way responsible. That
Association has justified its title to the name Rationalist by
its catholicity in allowing this expression of opinion to be
published under its auspices.
A. S. Mories.
�Chapter I.
WHAT IS THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION?
“ Philosophy is life’s one match for Fate.”—Meredith.
Withes u ch an object before us as is indicated in the
following pages, it might seem more fitting to post
pone the attempt to answer this question to the close
than to deal with it at this early stage. But while it
is clear that the answer we propose to suggest cannot
have its full force at the outset, it is almost necessary to
indicate here the line we propose to follow, so that the
leading illustrations of which the various succeeding
chapters consist may be the more intelligible and
their force be the better appreciated.
These illustrations, as will be seen, are taken from
types of thought and methods of investigation widely
separated, some of them being often regarded as
mutually exclusive.
But as the religious instinct is, in one form or
another, inherent in the human mind, and can be
met with at its best in the strongest minds of each
age, we take these extreme illustrations designedly.
We have endeavoured to reduce their hard-won con
victions to what may be called their common denomi
nator—to the conceptions, that is to say, which are
vital and common to them all; and these we claim as
the essence of religion—that of which all its historical
forms are more or less refracted images.
There is nothing new, of course, in the idea of the
simplification and condensing of religious belief. The
process is a familiar one in the history of the Church.
There is Jiardly a doctrine of the ancient creed that
7
�8
WHAT IS THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION ?
has not been eviscerated of that which its pious
holders once regarded as sacred and essential. In the
days of the first Apostles themselves the process was
already in full force. The “ Second Coming,” which
for a time was looked for at any moment, and in the
most realistic form, had, perforce, to merge itself in
the larger, and to them more prosaic, movement of
human history
The story of the Final Judgment, the “ Dies iron
dies ilia,” with all its lurid realism, has overpowered
the imagination of the Church for ages in a way that
no attempt to unfold the eternal issues of human
character will perhaps ever do, so that the minds of
the diplomatists of Church dogma may remain com
paratively easy. And yet the story is a parable from
beginning to end. Anselm’s “ Cztr Deus Homo ?” with
its forensic exactitude and logical presumption, so
long dominating the Church’s thought, has been
superseded by the more searching question, “ Quomodo
Deus Homo?” the answer to which is really the crux
of modern Christianity.
This revolution, however, has. been intramural.
But the course of modern thought has carried us far
beyond the internal controversies of Church or creed.
The Churches have always been the home of miracle.
And nothing so characterises the whole course of
modern thought as the decay and steady disappear
ance of miracle.
Outside the bounds of the Church no well-educated
person dreams of accepting any miraculous narrative.
He is convinced that “whatever happens or ever
happened happens naturally.” This difficulty in
Scripture is steadily growing. It covers not merely
the miraculous narratives themselves, but the “ in
spiration” of the books which contain those narra
tives. Thus the very “ seat of authority” in religion
�WHAT IS THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION?
9
has been undermined, and we are driven to look else
where for the essence and foundation of the faith.
Religion, we are compelled to admit, is one of the
natural outcomes of the human spirit. From the
point of view of ordered thought, then, where is the
essence, not merely of Christianity, but of religion
itself to be found, and in what does it consist ?
Many have been the attempts to define the essence
of religion. That essence, we believe, can only be
found in some conception or conceptions that are
perfectly consistent with reason and in harmony with
observed facts, and are at the same time the most
universal expression of the religious instinct. Such
observed facts, explanatory of and illustrated in the
various historical and traditional religions, and
expressed in their most condensed form, we find to be
these :—
(1) The perception of the intelligibility, and finally
of the unity, of the universe—“ The One.”
(2) The consciousness, more or less vivid, of man’s
own kinship with this “ Unity ” or “ One.”
These two conceptions will be found to form a
touchstone for the classification of the various phases
of religious belief.
Those forms which the religious instinct has
assumed, and which are known as Fetichism, Poly
theism, and finally Monotheism, will be found to
resolve themselves, from the speculative point, of
view, into more or less effective and consistent modes
of realising the first of these. This great series of
religions which culminate in Judaism and Moham
medanism have as their common feature the tendency
towards the worship of an objective and transcendent
God—a God external to the worshipper, and exercising
an authority kin to that of a lawgiver.
For examples of the second we turn to Brahmanism,
�10
WHAT IS THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION?
Buddhism, and all the various forms of ancient and
modern mysticism. Their predominating thought
has been the more or less vivid consciousness of the
soul’s own kinship with the eternal—with God. The
strength of Christianity lies in its combination of
both, and especially in the firmergrasp and the bolder
assertion of the latter of these two truths. The
feelings which gave birth to these two complementary
forms of the religious instinct seem to be, as it were,
engrained in the nature of man.
For we find them in very early stages of his
development. Their appearance in history does not
seem to be a question merely of time. We cannot say
that either is the precursor or the resultant of the
other. And though classifications of national or racial
thought are elastic, not mechanical, the one is no doubt
more characteristic of certain great divisions of the
human race, and the other of others.
But both satisfy profound aspirations and answer
constant demands of the human spirit. Both are
undoubted manifestations of the Divine through the
human heart.
If we are to give each its place in the hierarchy of
ideas, we cannot hesitate to accord the place of
honour to the latter of the two—npt as a matter of
mere individual preference, but as its spiritual and
even philosophical right.
For immanence is more profound and commanding
than transcendence. Kinship and sonship are more
purely spiritual conceptions than mere acknowledged
dependence on a creator.
The human heart yearns for that which it long
since learned to call a Divine Fatherhood. That
Fatherhood is the pictorial and most endearing name
for a kinship which is dynamic and fundamental.
And even though the thought of it should be veiled
�WHAT IS THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION?
11
under the cold philosophical garb of “ Unity,” the
warrant for all that we mean by Fatherhood is still
there- Science, and even philosophy, may know
nothing directly of a Divine Fatherhood ; but science
and philosophy combine to establish a principle of
what they call “cosmic unity,” which not only covers
it, but in some respects may be said to bring it nearer
still to our hearts than any but the most saintly
mystic has ever dared to conceive. For it represents
us as not only kin with the Divine, but one with it.
In doing so, Science certainly raises other and
serious questions. To these we shall refer later.
The one thing we desire to emphasise here is that
these two main types of religious thought are not
only not mutually incompatible, but are beginning to
disclose their fundamental harmony, and to be seen
as complementary aspects of a thought which is
deeper than either and embraces both. The true
Catholic religion is that which finds room for both.
In doing so, it faithfully reflects the very texture of
our innermost nature. For we ourselves are living
epitomes of these two principles or forms of thought.
We are both immanent in, and transcendent to, our
selves. And the religion that is to satisfy the rounded
thought of man inust assimilate and embody both.
The conception of transcendence satisfies the indi
vidualistic, objectivating element of our being. That
of immanence ministers to a still deeper need, and
witnesses to a still deeper truth—that of our conscious
possession of, and kinship with, the Divine. In face
of modern thought, the faith that embodies and
balances both these principles is the faith of the
future. Such a faith is entirely consonant with
science, and, at the same time, expansive enough
for the most devout believer. It consecrates science
and makes faith rational. Further, we hope also to
�12
WHAT IS THE ESSENCE OF RELIGION ?
show that these two conceptions are but the religious
embodiments of two still more fundamental concep
tions which have exercised, and still exercise, an
equal command over philosophic thought. The
cleavage which their application has caused in the
sphere of religion is matched in the world of thought
by a similar phenomenon.
The earliest problem which presented itself to the
minds of thinking men was how to explain the rela
tion between nature and that which was recognised
as above nature, between the visible and the invisible,
between the objective world and the subjective ego.
The philosophies of the world have oscillated age
after age round this problem. Of this oscillation and
steady evolution we shall give a rapid sketch in
Chapter IV.
The two main types of mental outlook there set
forth are the very same types which are illustrated
in the great divisions of religions which we have indi
cated here.
The world’s religious thinking and the world’s
philosophic thinking are thus seen to be but the
appropriate expressions, in their respective spheres,
of the inherent, mental outlook.
If this be so, it becomes evident that religion is an
equally fit subject for analysis with philosophy ; and
the religion that aims at expressing the highest
reason of man is the ideal religion. Christianity, if
it is permanently to hold the field, must fulfil this
condition. In order to effect this, it must be purged
of its non-essentials. Towards this consummation
modern Rationalism and science have given valu
able aid.
The typical and leading examples of this aid we
proceed to consider.
�Chapter II.
HAECKEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION—
THE CONTRIBUTION OF SCIENCE
“ Le philosophe doit tater toutes choses, meme les plus poetiques, avec
les antennes de la pensee froide et curieuse.”—Nietzsche.
Strong minds sum up in their own comprehensive
and condensed experience the more scattered and
timid thoughts of common men. It is this that con
stitutes such men not only the result and expression
of the generation they are born into, but the most
dominant intellectual force of their day. In the
scientific world there have been many such men, who
not only stood for the prevailing thought of their time,
but, by a happy exercise of the imagination, discounted
the future, and set other and less venturesome minds
on new and prolific lines of thought. Of this type
Haeckel is probably to-day the most pronounced
instance that could be cited. He has been a scien
tific man all his days. He has lived through a time
when the floodgates of scientific discovery have been
wide open, and he has indulged the daring gift of
generalisation to an extent which places him among
the thinkers as wrell as the observers of his time. On
what ground, however, do we speak of his “ Contribu
tion to Religion ”? And what is the nature of that
contribution, if any?
To enable us to answer this question it is not
necessary to give any resume of Haeckel’s scientific
work. That is written at large in many well-known
13
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. ' ‘ • :^-. •" ’. - '* .
14
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HAECKEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
works, and spread over a long series of years. It is
sufficient for our purpose to take up the parable at the
point, or points, where his latest works begin to
impinge, as is generally believed, on the central con
ception of religion. The only proviso we make at this
stage is that the man who insists on treating the
current dogmatic tenets of the Church as the central
conceptions of religion need proceed no further with
us here. The conflict of the day is not with these,
but with something far more vital. It is the citadel
that is at stake, not the outworks. The “ miraculous ”
outworks of religion are to-day, indeed, ignored. Like
the German colonies, they cost more to defend than
they are worth. They are a constant drain on the
reserves of faith. Gradually scientific discovery and
literary investigation have succeeded in banishing the
miraculous from shelter after shelter. One of the
most persistent refuges was the sphere of what is
called organic nature. Here, at least, it was believed
a divine intervention must be accepted as indispensable.
Life must be a special creation, and the occasion of
its first appearance a red-letter day in the annals of
the divine. Alas ! even here Miracle found no rest
for the sole of her foot. All clear demarcation
between organic and inorganic disappeared, and we
were thrown back on the all-embracing doctrine of
evolution, which in its protean application covers
everything, from the inanimate clod to the most perfect
human frame. But even then there was one unques
tioned reservation to which for long no one had
dreamt that science could ever assert a claim. The
soul of man was surely beyond the reach of physical
science. Even the keenest scientific investigators
were content at this point to accept the apparently
inevitable. Mind, they seemed to agree, was sui
generis. And a new genus such as this presupposed
�HAECKEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
15
a new effort of the generator. Here again, however,
latest science maintains, in the words of Haeckel,
that “ Man has no single mental faculty which is his
exclusive prerogative.” “ Man’s power of conceptual
thought and of abstraction has been gradually evolved
from the non-conceptual stages of thought and ideation
in the nearest related mammals,” and differs from
them “ only in degree and not in kind, quantitatively
not qualitatively.” One of the last barriers for faith
seems here to be broken down, and the very soul of
man made continuous with the instincts of the brute
creation, and all these in their turn merely the out
come of a material combination.
But the last word of Haeckel is more searching still.
The hitherto undisputed assumption of science has
been dualistic. The sharpest investigation and keenest
criticism agreed on the two fundamental factors of
the universe, matter and force, or matter and motion.
Given these, science could construct the universe—
matter as the raw material, and energy or force as
the moving power. It is here that Haeckel comes in.
With him any form of dualism is intolerable. Unity
or Monism is his all-embracing principle. And his
special contribution to the everlasting riddle of the
universe is to transfer the whole ultimate issue down
to one clear point, beneath even the accepted funda
mentals of his scientific brethren. The way, indeed,
has been to some extent prepared for the admission
of a larger and more profound conception. Physicists
themselves have declared that it is becoming more and
more difficult to determine the supposed immutable
boundary between matter and energy. The forms of
matter are found to be so rarefied and impalpable that
we pass insensibly from matter to energy, and from
energy to matter. Haeckel combines the two prin
ciples of the persistence of matter and the conservation
�16
HAECKEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
of energy under a single generalisation, which he
calls “ the law of substance.” The discovery and
establishment of this law is, he maintains, “ the
greatest intellectual triumph of the nineteenth
century, in the sense that all other known laws of
nature are subordinate to it.” “ Substance ” is thus
defined by Haeckel to be that original unitary whole
whose first differentiation is into what he declares are
really but two phases or conditions of itself—viz.,
ponderable matter and ether. The difference between
these two things is described as merely a difference in
the intensity of the condensation of the original
simple “ substance.” This point in his exposition is,
to all appearance, an assumption. It is of essential
importance to the argument, however, to note that this
ponderable matter and ether “ are endowed with sensa
tion and will,” though naturally of the lowest grade ;
they “ experience,” they “ strive,” they “ struggle.”
This definition is so far satisfactory, inasmuch as
all that evolution afterwards shows to have been
taken out of “ matter ” is here declared to be originally
in it. And probably there is no part of his latest
book so interesting, from the philosophical point of
view, as that in which he sets forth with the keenest
appreciation the remarkable anticipation of his funda
mental conception of “substance” in the work of
“ the great philosopher, Baruch Spinoza.” And the
astonishing thing is that Mr. McCabe, his British
champion, totally ignores this vital part of his teaching,
and does not even name Spinoza. Now, Spinoza was
a passionate Monist before the term was heard
of. And the striking thing is that that powerful
thinker had not had the advantage which the advance
of modern science has given to the philosopher of
to-day. What they are driven to by the steady com
pulsion of wider and wider generalisation of physical
�HAECKEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
17
laws Spikoza reached, we may say, through intuition,
the sheer force of the higher reason. His phraseology
for the two great phases of the world-substance is
different from that of Haeckel and his school.
Spinoza called matter and spirit but two comple
mentary aspects or attributes of the one substance,
which is identical with God. Material things and
immaterial ideas are both but modes of the eternal
substance, which is as close a paraphrase as possible
of the philosophical position of Haeckel, while the
phraseology is richer and warmer and more kin with
our religious instincts. Both believe, though they
express it a little differently, in “ the divine nature of
the world.” Spinoza’s own words are strikingly in
accord with the teaching of Haeckel. “ Nescio,” he
writes, “ cur materia divina, natura indigna esset,”
meaning by materia, of course, not the ponderable
matter of the physicist, but that reality which may be
regarded as the basis of the phenomenal world.1 And
this agreement contains much that is of large promise
fowthe future of modern thought.
This is the point in the teaching of Haeckel which
negatives entirely the charge of Materialism and
Atheism so persistently hurled against him. Monism
is neither Materialism nor Atheism. It is really the
denial of both. And if any reader should doubt the
fact as characteristic of Haeckel, let him read that
1 David Hume himself, the most unmystical of men, when labour
ing with the cosmological argument, asks at one point, “ Why may
not the material universe be the necessarily existent Being?”—surely
the brightest flash of mystic feeling of which Hume’s severely
analytical mind was capable. Or consider the strong, reverent
language of the devout Lord Gifford in his own lecture on “ Sub
stance
“Said I not that the word Substance was perhaps the
grandest word in any language ? There can be none grander. It is
the true name of God. Do you not feel with me that it is almost
profane to apply the word Substance to anything short of God ? God
must be the very substance and essence of the human soul ” (quoted
by Dr. Hutcheson Stirling in his Gifford Lectures, p. 207).
C
�18
HAECKEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
writer’s reference to Spinoza and note the un
restrained enthusiasm with which he proclaims his
agreement with the most spiritual of all our modern
philosophers, the “ God-intoxicated” Spinoza. “ In
his stately pantheistic system,” writes Haeckel, “ the
notion of the world (the universe or the cosmos) is
identical with the all-pervading notion of God—is at
one and the same time the purest and most rational
Monism and the clearest and most abstract Mono
theism. This universal ‘ substance,’ this ‘ divine
nature of the world,’ shows us two different aspects of
its being, or two fundamental attributes—matter (in
finitely extended substance) and spirit (the all-em
bracing energy of thought). All the changes which
have since come over the idea of substance are
reduced on a logical analysis to this supreme thought
of Spinoza’s. With Goethe, I take it to be the loftiest,
profoundest, and truest thought of all ages” (p. 76).
And he declares succinctly (p. 8), “We adhere firmly
to the pure, unequivocal Monism of Spinoza.”
The thinker who can speak in terms such as these,
and can do so, as Haeckel does, in the name of the
most advanced modern science, so far from being a
Materialist or an Atheist, makes a contribution to
religion that is of the highest importance to modern
thought, and must prove to be of permanent value in
helping to explain “ the riddle of the universe.”
Haeckel, indeed, in one of the closing paragraphs
of his book, plaiifly admits all this. 1 I must not,
however,” he writes, “ take leave of my readers without
pointing out in a conciliatory way that this strenuous
opposition [of Monism to Dualism] may be toned
down to a certain degree—may, indeed, even be con
verted into a friendly harmony. In a thoroughly
logical mind, applying the highest principles with
equal force in the entire field of the cosmos—in
�HAECKEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
19
both organic and inorganic nature—the antithetical
positions of theism and pantheism, vitalism and
mechanism, approaeh until they touch each other.”
In almost the exact words of Herbert Spencer, he
says (p. 134) : “ We must even grant that this
essence of substance becomes more mysterious and
enigmatic the deeper we penetrate into the knowledge
of its attributes, matter and energy, and the more
thoroughly we study its countless phenomenal forms
and their evolution.” And his “ conclusion ” is a tacit
admission that the “riddle” is, after all, more in
name than in reality. “ Only one comprehensive
riddle now remains,” he says “—the problem of ‘ sub
stance.’ What is the real character of this mighty
world-wonder that the realistic scientist calls Nature
or the Universe, the idealist philosopher calls ‘ sub
stance ’ or the Cosmos, the pious believer calls
Creator or God?” Is anything further required to
show how striking and valuable a defender Haeckel
shows himself to be of the central conception of
religion? Could a purely scientific writer, as such,
possibly supply a more direct and unequivocal contri
bution to religion than such a declaration ?
But there is more involved in Haeckel’s teaching
than even this.
One of the most important bearings of this funda
mental conception is on the nature and meaning of
consciousness. And it is here where, it seems to us,
Haeckel and his school do not rise to the level of their
own doctrine. The question (of which so much is
made) whether consciousness is a physiological or a
transcendental problem is comparatively needless.
Consciousness is both. Science shows that conscious
ness is dependent for its appearance on “ the normal
structure of the corresponding psychic organ, the
brain.” But, whatever be the physiological method
�20
HAECKEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
by which consciousness is enabled to appear, the
content of consciousness is essentially transcendental.
And to say so is not really inconsistent with the
essence of the Haeckel doctrine. On the contrary, it
seems to us to be its fitting and culminating expres
sion. The physiological machinery of consciousness
is but the frame of the telescope by which we see back
and down into the infinite “ substance ” on which it
and all things rest. The human consciousness is
simply the divine “ substance ” of the world coming
to self-consciousness. That of which our conscious
ness is conscious is the divine “ substance ” itself.
This is where the divinity of human nature, so con
sonant with the teaching of Haeckel, is seen to be the
true solvent of all such philosophic difficulty. We are
touching the divine at every point, and whether we
call it world-substance or cosmos, or by any other
title which the advance of science may render more
accurate and intelligible, the reality predicated is the
same. We are not only in touch with the Divine ; we
are divine. As has been well said, “ There are unfathom
able depths in the human soul, because God himself
is at the bottom of it.” The transcendental in this
deep sense cannot be avoided. It is easy for the hard
materialist to say that this is mere hallucination, for
no human mind can actually come into conscious
contact with the Infinite. But no more can Haeckel
lay his scientific finger on that “ substance ” which
he nevertheless regards as the underlying basis of all
things. “ Substance,” so far as scientific objectivity
is concerned, is a figment of the imagination ; but it
is vital to his intellect, and we accept it at once as a
sufficient name for that to which both science and
philosophy point. On exactly similar lines we contend
that the united, continuous, determinate conviction of
the richest human minds as to the content of the
�HAECKEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
21
higher consciousness is not to be lightly brushed
aside. The “ ideas ” of the human mind are, on the
showing of the Haeckel school themselves, literally the
final efflorescence of the whole evolving cosmos.
They are the culminating point, so far as known, of
the one undivided “ substance ” from which sprang
ultimately the whole sum of created ” things. How
are they related to this substance ?—which, after all, is
but Haeckel’s name for what we call God. We main
tain that it is absolutely consistent with the line of the
Haeckel teaching to hold that these “ ideas ” of ours
are what we call divine—that self-consciousness is
consciousness of that which is part and parcel of the
divine “ substance.” And if this be so, we have a firm
scientific basis for faith and for true idealism in all
its outlets, untrammelled by “ dualism” of any kind.
To Haeckel “ substance ” is the final, irreducible
element of the universe, the fans et origo of all. And
the name we may give to this final irreducible is a
matter of very little moment. We call it God, and
believe ourselves to be part of this divine element.
Haeckel does the same under another name. Monism
does not abolish, it only reaffirms, the continuous vital
connection between the “ substance ” and its offshoots,
between the human and the Divine.
This is the only truth that can preserve to us our
“ immortality.” To Haeckel, the immortality of the
soul is “ the highest point of superstition.” To our
thinking it is the direct suggestion of his own prin
ciple. His doctrine of “ substance,” indeed, rather
guarantees than weakens the doctrine of the immor
tality of the soul. He himself, for example, accepts
“ the idea of immortality in its widest sense.” “ The
indestructibility and eternal duration of all that exists
is not merely acceptable, but self-evident to the
monistic philosopher ” (p. 68).
�22
HAECKEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
His difficulty, of course, is with the immortality of
the individual soul. But this, when analysed, simply
means that the feeling of individuality or personality
which we associate with the spiritual life is apparently
lost at death.1 Now, there is no subject on which it
is so rash to dogmatise as this. The scientific man
deals admittedly with appearance only. Of un
challengeable knowledge on the subject he is as
destitute as anyone else. But, in the absence of any
possible demonstration, it is surely a striking fact
that this loss of conscious personality is the very thing
which, as we shall see later, our great mystics declare
to be characteristic of their ecstatic experience. They
lose the consciousness of personality. They, in
fact, scout the idea of its permanence in the con
crete, individualistic sense in which we are accustomed
to use the word “personality.” They seem to feel the
clinging to individual personality to be a forfeiture of
the highest bliss and a profanation of the beatific
vision. The scientific mind, approaching the subject,
of course, from the purely physical side, declares
against such a thing as a continuous personal existence
after death. The factors of personality, it declares,
are dissolved and disappear.
The spiritual mind professes to reach the subject
from the other side, and, curiously, they meet each
other half way, and find that in this thought of the
disappearance of individual consciousness they are on
common ground. May not the Haeckel doctrine on
this point really connote just what the experience of
the mystics of all time declares to be fact ? Even the
changing forms of matter are redeemed from annihila
tion by the doctrine of the conservation of energy.
Similarly, the change which we call loss of conscious
1 All the monistic philosophers of the century are thanatists (Riddle
of the Universe, p. 69).
�HAECKEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
23
personality by no means invalidates the idea of
persistence after death. With that change the mystics
have long since made us familiar as matter of personal
experience here and now. It is absolutely consistent
with reason and science, we contend, to regard the
scientific Monist’s absorption into the eternal “ sub
stance ” as simply his way of describing what the
spiritual Monist calls absorption into the Divine
Spirit. Nirvana, in short, is the spiritual realisation
of Monism. If a human spirit can so abstract itself
from the purely physical condition of its ordinary life,
and so enter into the unseen as to lose all sense of
individuality and become one with the All, may this
not be a perfectly natural anticipation and foretaste
of the condition which the materialist perfers to speak
of as dissolution and disappearance ? Involution, we
must remember, not dissolution, is the true antithesis
of evolution. And even if we were entitled to assume
that this mysterious involution takes place at death,
can any scientific man justly challenge the mystic’s
unvarying personal experience when it is put forward
as an indication of what the involution or re-absorption
really is ?
Such an involution may be called death, and is
at least death in the ordinary sense of the word as we
know it. But it may be death only in the sense in
which the new-born babe dies to its previous state,
that state being henceforth to it as if it had never
been. In the Monist’s creed there can be no death in
the sense which he endeavours to impose upon the
word. Life is universal. The whole question is as to
the particular form or character of that life at any
particular stage of being.
The old apothegm of Paul, “In Him we live and
move and have our being,” was surely admirably
suited to the scholarly audience he addressed at
�24
HAECKEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
Athens. It is marvellously suited to the tendency of
latest thought. It has a philosophical as well as a
spiritual side, and is equally suited to express the
faith of a Monist as of a mystic.
“In water lives the fish, the plant in the earth,
The bird in the air, in the firmament the sun,
The Salamander resides in fire,
And the heart of God is Jacob Bohme’s element.”
If in the mystic’s case the loss of self-consciousness
is found to be part and parcel of the soul’s experience,
why should it be thought incredible in this other case?
If not incredible, then surely in this respect extremes
meet, and wisdom is justified of all her children.
Besides, as Haeckel tells us (p. 94), “ the life of the
animal and the plant bears the same universal char
acter of incompleteness as the life of man. Evolution
seems, on the whole, to be a progressive improvement
in historical advance, from the simple to the complex,
the lower to the higher, the imperfect to the perfect.”
And as the merely physical evolution of man seems to
be completed, it can only be to his psychical evolution
that we must look for the further continuation of that
great process. To such a continuation of evolution
who will dare to set limits ? To trace the past
development of the physical organisation of man, and
even the efflorescence of mind as science does, is but
one half of the task prescribed by the doctrine of
evolution. The mystical phenomena of human
nature are a necessary consequence of human nature.
These phenomena point prophetically to the future. It
is quite an arbitrary proceeding to accept the theory
of evolution, but at the same time to detach from it
its weightiest consequence. The field of man’s future
evolution is the psychical. The materialistic scientists
who make so much of man’s past evolution, but ignore
his future evolution, resemble people who retail an
�HAECKEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
25
anecdote, but forget the point (Carl du Prel, The Philo*
sophy of Mysticism).
One of the most slashing critics, and at the same
time self-restrained thinkers (M. J. Guyau), says:
“ If the unknown activity that lies at the basis of the
natural world has produced in the human race a con
sciousness of goodness and a deliberate desire for it,
there is reason to hope and to believe that the last
word of ethics and metaphysics is not a negative.”
May we not with equally modest assurance say that,
if the “ substance ” that lies at the basis of the natural
world has produced in the human race the conscious
ness of a condition of thought and feeling that rises
far beyond the range of common experience, that is
open to all, and of which the element of conscious
time is no part, and has produced at the same time
in the best minds everywhere a deliberate and
passionate desire for, and delight in, that conscious
ness, there is reason to hope and to believe that the
last word of the most perfect evolutionary science does
not negative the idea of the continuance of that life
hereafter in some intensely real, though necessarily
indefinable, manner?
To such a life we may give what formal name we
choose. The more we realise it here, the more
indifferent we become to all attempts at defining it,
the more catholic in welcoming every form of
expressing it, that may commend itself to the medi
tative soul. For such a union with the Divine
immortality is quite an intelligible word. It is a
word that attempts to describe, under the one category
of endless time, a life and a condition of thought
which in our own actual experience transcend time.
Where demonstration is impossible, we must perforce
be satisfied with the indications which our own highest
^experience gives us of the possibility and naturalness of
�26
HAECKEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
a life for which such words as “ immortal ” and “ eter
nal ” are as permissible and suggestive as any other.
If religion, then, means essentially recognition of
the unity of the universe, and of our kinship with
that unity, even the “ materialist ” Haeckel makes a
contribution to religion that, in the present state and
direction of educated thought, is of high importance.
His recent book, The Riddle of the Universe, may seem
at first sight to give the lie to such an estimate of his
teaching as is here put forward. And the orthodox
world has certainly represented it as hopelessly
inimical to religion. With some of his references to
the origin of Christianity we have no sympathy. But
while there is no denying that Haeckel’s teaching is
quite incompatible with the authorised dogmatic faith
of the Church, the fact remains that his fundamental
position is essentially religious, and, as he says him
self, identical with the teaching of the most spirituallyminded philosopher that ever lived—the God-intoxi
cated Spinoza.
�Chapter III.
HERBERT SPENCER’S CONTRIBUTION TO
RELIGION—THE CONTRIBUTION OF
AGNOSTICISM
Agnosto Theo.
“ I gazed on power till I grew blind.
On power; I could not take my eyes from that.”—Paracelsus.
Mr. Spencer was long the bete noire of a large
proportion of our religiously-minded people. Indeed,
many people, by no means ignorant, believe that the
philosophy of Mr. Spencer boasts of giving the final
quietus to everything that has hitherto been associated
in the popular mind with religion. And there can be
no question that the Synthetic Philosophy has per
manently affected our conception of the basis of
religion.
Science and philosophy in the hands of Mr. Spencer
lead us easily and unaided to the borderland of the
unseen. But when we begin “ toiling in the presence
of things which cannot be dealt with by any other
power” than that higher imagination, intuitive faculty,
call it what we will, which is the glory of our man
hood, Mr. Spencer seems to leave us to our own
resources, and to drop to earth again like a spent ball.
This is the only faculty which Mr. Spencer almost
refuses to cultivate. And yet even he cannot wholly
escape its cautious exercise.
His Synthetic Philosophy is a monument to
individual genius such as the world has seldom seen.
27
�28 HERBERT SPENCER’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
For, notwithstanding the prolonged labours of a host
of trained scientific collaborators, the synthesis itself
is the work of a single brain, and evinces a grasp of
detail, a dovetailing of endless material, coupled with
a comprehensiveness of generalisation, that stamp its
author as one of the thinkers of the world.
On the real issues, then, that are of never-failing vital
interest to the human soul, what has Mr. Spencer to
tell us ? What is his definite message to the world ?
Probably the shortest form in which we can
epitomise his philosophy is to say that it is the
apotheosis of evolution. What in our more serious
moments we want to know is, What or who is it that
is evolving ? Why should there be—why, indeed, is
there—such a process at all ?
That there is not behind it all or underneath it
“ some far-off divine event,” which sheds a meaning
on it, the human spirit refuses permanently to believe.
That there is at the heart of it all a presence and
a purpose of which it is but the tangible expression
is the instinctive feeling, if not the ineradicable con
viction, of every calm, clear-thinking soul.
Why, then, does not Mr. Spencer, with his massive
intellect, acknowledge and entertain this conviction ?
The truth is, that is exactly what he does, though
naturally he uses a cautious phraseology of his own
to express it. His apotheosis of evolution represents
the universe, organic and inorganic, as self-contained
and automatic.
His successive “ integration and
disintegration, ” “ evolution and involution,” are but
his hard modern form of the truth long ages ago
discovered by the Oriental thinkers, and taught by
them more poetically as the “ outbreathing ” and
“ inbreathing ” of God. It is often supposed by
those who have not examined Mr. Spencer’s meta
physical basis or First Principles that he leaves no
�HERBERT SPENCER’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION 29
room whatever for faith. The very reverse is the
case. If there is one thing which Mr. Spencer has
made more clear than another in this connection, it
is his unshakeable belief in a Power “ whose positive
existence is a necessary datum of consciousness,” and
which, though “not capable of being brought within
limits, nevertheless remains as a consciousness that
is positive and is not rendered negative by the nega
tion of limits.” What Kant surrendered as knowledge
he restored as belief. Spencer, strange though it
may seem, would rather reverse the process. His
never-resting analysis dissipates ordinary concrete
and apparently positive conceptions. Conscience,
“ stern daughter of the voice of God,” is but the
ever-growing moral experience of the race. Its
dictates, a priori to the individual, are a posteriori to
the race. Authoritative “ revelation,” too, is but the
symbolic representation of a purely natural process.
Nothing is at first sight more spiritually disintegrating,
more absolutely corrosive of all customary religious
teaching, than this philosophy of evolution. But even
analysis has its limits. And in the end synthesis is
triumphant. For the man who is so eagle-eyed in
tracking this universal symbolism pulls up at last
before a “certainty” which even he declares, with
intensest conviction, is “more profoundly true than
any religion supposes ”:—
Not only is the omnipresence of something which passes compre
hension that most abstract belief which is corSmon to all religions,
which becomes more distinct in proportion as they develop, and
which remains after their discordant elements have been mutually
cancelled ; but it is that belief which the most unsparing criticism of
each leaves unquestionable, or, rather, makes ever clearer. It has
nothing to fear from the most inexorable logic, but, on the contrary,
is a belief which the most inexorable logic shows to be more pro
foundly true than any religion supposes (First Principles, 5th ed.,
1890, p. 45).
Again :—
Amid the mysteries which become the more mysterious the more
�30 HERBERT SPENCER’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
they are thought about, there will remain the one absolute certainty
that we are ever in presence of an Infinite and Eternal Energy from
which all things proceed (Nineteenth Century, January, 1884).1
Could more be asked from the metaphysics of a
philosophy based, as Mr. Spencer’s is, on concrete
facts, and not daring to launch the human spirit on
that shoreless sea of unseen reality which, in spite of
all castrated intellectualism, is its natural element and
abiding home ?
Even in this, his unmistakeable attitude, he is
denounced as a renegade from the principles of his
own philosophy. Some of his leading disciples have
proclaimed themselves his defenders against himself—
as, indeed, more Spencerian than Mr. Spencer himself.
Mr. Frederic Harrison long since felt acutely the
importance of Mr. Spencer’s contention, and how
fatal it is to the arrogant pretensions of a superficial
Positivism.2
1 As Mr. Spencer himself says in his Facts and Comments (chapter
on Ultimate Questions), and apropos of a letter of Jowett’s, “ Con
sidering what I have written, I might reasonably have thought that
no one would call me a Materialist.”
2 And if Mr. Spencer’s doctrine of the existence of “ the Unknow
able ” has been so condemned by the straiter sect of his own followers
as supplying (to use M. Brunetiere’s words) “une base ou un fondement scientifique a la religion," how infinitely more pregnant with
religious issues is his determined declaration of the identity of this
unknowable Power with the power which we call ourselves ? If the
one conception is the fondement, the other is surely the chief corner
stone of the building itself, and is being recognised as such by discern
ing minds everywhere. M. Brunetiere has gone into this subject
more deliberately still in his article, “ La Metaphysique Positiviste ”
(in Revue des Deux Mondes, October 1st, 1902). He there quotes the
words “si souvent citees ” of Mr. Spencer to the effect that, “From
the necessity of thinking en relation, it follows that the relative is
itself inconceivable except as related to a real non-relative. If we do
not postulate a non-relative reality—an absolute—the relative itself
becomes absolute, which is a contradiction. And we see, by consider
ing the trend of human thought, how impossible it is to rid oneself of
the consciousness of une chose effective—an actuality—underlying
appearances, and how from this impossibility results our indestruc
tible belief in the existence of this thing.” _ And, as Brunettere puts
it, “ the foundation of science is metaphysical, and we see without
any effort of reflection or of reasoning, but without any contradiction,
metaphysics re-established, if I may so say, in the very heart of
Positivism.”
�HERBERT SPENCER’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION 31
Mr. Macpherson, Mr. Spencer’s recent biographer,
is evidently alive to the same fact, and seems to be
almost equally disappointed with Mr. Harrison.
What, then, are Mr. Spencer’s grounds for this
most profound certainty which he champions so
vigorously ?
Nothing is more striking and suggestive in the
annals of philosophical thinking than to observe its
inevitable convergence on the one testing question:
What is Consciousness, and what does it really tell
us ? This is what is called technically the Theory of
Knowledge. It is the Armageddon field of all intel
lectual analysis. Aristotle’s “ nothi seauton ” was
one of the profoundest directions ever given. For we
may truly say of the human consciousness, as
Tennyson says of the
“Little flower—if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is.”
Mr. Spencer is characteristically careful in all that
he says on this fundamental point, but his biographer
is characteristically reluctant to give Mr. Spencer’s
phraseology its full and natural weight. “It is idle,”
Mr. Macpherson says, “ to inquire into the ultimate
nature of consciousness.”
This is not the view of Mr. Spencer. And though
he is remarkably careful of the phraseology to which
he commits himself, yet, where controversy has inter
vened, we naturally get his meaning, if possible, more
sharply defined still. This is the case on this very
point. For hear him in his “Explanations” in the
1870 preface to his Principles of Psychology :—
The aggregate of subjective states constituting the mental “I”
have not in themselves the principle of cohesion holding them
together as a whole. But the “I” which continuously survives in
the subject of those changing states is that portion of the Unknowable
Power which is statically conditioned in special nervous structures
�32 HERBERT SPENCER’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
that are pervaded by a dynamically conditioned portion of the Unknow
able Power called Energy.
The mind is thus not simply “ a power of recog
nising and distinguishing feelings,” which power, so
far as Mr. Macpherson’s version is concerned, may be
merely a function of matter. It is “ the I which con
tinuously survives.” It is “ a portion of the Unknow
able Power,” or Substance, to use Haeckel’s word.
The Problem of Personality, Mr. Macpherson rightly
says, is “the great difficulty which faces Idealism.”
It is here solved so far as Mr. Spencer’s conviction is
concerned. And this passage is an express refutation
of Mr. Macpherson’s contention, where he says:—
Self-consciousness, according to the New Kantian and Hegelian, is
impossible except on the assumption that in the mind there exists a
unifying spiritual principle which, so to speak, sits at the loom of
time and weaves the isolated, unrelated threads of experience into an
organised and coherent whole. Have we not here an illustration of
the tendency of the mind to personify the processes of Nature, and
convert a final product into an initial, all-controlling agent ?
This “ unifying spiritual principle ” is exactly what
Mr. Spencer insists on—“the I which continuously
survives.” And this “ I ” is directly linked on to the
“ Eternal Energy.” Mr. Macpherson says “ the
basis of the system [of Idealism] is the identity of
the human with the divine self-consciousness,” an
identity which is expressly asserted here by Mr.
Spencer—if language has any meaning.
And lest this assertion by Mr. Spencer, that “ the I
is a portion of the Unknowable Power,” should be
challenged as in this bald form a mere passing dictum,
let us follow his reasoning a little more in detail, and
we find the grounds of his “ dictum.”
There are two great philosophical paths by which
we are brought face to face with this riddle of the
universe—those, namely, of psychology and objective
science.
By the former line of investigation Mr. Spencer
�HERBERT SPENCER’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION 33
finds that the one thing the human mind is directly
conscious of is will, force, our own will—that is to
say, as the one form in which we directly experience
force, “ Force as we are conscious of it when by our
own efforts we produce changes.”1
By the method of objective science we reach a
similar conclusion. The conservation of energy and
the whole modern teaching of science compel us to
believe in an Eternal Energy underlying all things.
This Eternal Energy is that “ from which all things
proceed.” This is the cul de sac into which all the
wonderful unification of scientific thought lands us,
and from which there is no escape. And when Mr.
Spencer declares in most carefully-chosen language
that “it is the same power which in ourselves wells
up under the form of consciousness,” we do not
require his formal imprimatur to assure us that in
the most fundamental conception of all religion, in
that truth which has made religion possible, he is
not only “ not against us,” but “ for us.”2
Mr. Spencer says it wells up in us under the form
of consciousness, and he calls this consciousness of
force—and otherwise self-consciousness. Now, what
does this familiar word “ self-consciousness ” really
mean ? What can it mean but that we ourselves
stand, as it were, outside of ourselves, beside and
1 It is interesting to notice how the same effort to define to the
intellect the content of consciousness takes shape, in Schopenhauer’s
case, in the definition of the world as will—the “ will to live,” in
short, as the metaphysical substance of the world and of man. It is
but the same idea as that which Spencer more vaguely describes as
force. Schopenhauer approximates the force more nearly to every-day
human experience. And this apparently slight difference in expres
sion at the start leads him directly into moral considerations of the
most searching kind, and ultimately into his pessimistic philosophy.
2 Haeckel, too (as his translator and champion says), “maintains
that the forcS associated with the atom or the cell is the same funda
mentally as that which reveals itself in our consciousness ” (Haeckel’s
Critics Answered, p. 54).
b
�34 HERBERT SPENCER’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
apart in some way from “ ourselves,” as we still call
this “ object ” of consciousness, and feel its moving,
throbbing life in our spirits ? Is it not, in short, a
form of the God-consciousness? As T. H. Green
says : “ It is the irreducibility of this self-objectifying
consciousness to anything else that compels us to
regard it as the presence in us of the mind for which
the world exists.”
As a French writer says : “For the old doctrine of
a consciousness absolutely one, the new psychology
substitutes the formula ‘ continuity of consciousness.’”
How can we ourselves be both the subject and the
object of consciousness at one and the same moment,
except on the principle, as Mr. Spencer puts it, that
our “I” is just a “portion of the Unknowable Power”
which thus, as some writers express it, “ comes to
self-consciousness in man ” ?
Mr. Spencer himself deals thus elsewhere with the
direct psychological evidence, and seems again to
suggest, or at least imply, the same idea. He says,
First Principles, p. 88 :—
Besides that definite consciousness of which logic formulates the
laws, there is also an indefinite consciousness which cannot be
formulated. Besides complete thoughts, and besides thoughts which,
though incomplete, admit of completion, there are thoughts which it
is impossible to complete, and yet which are still real in the sense that
that they are normal affections of the intellect.
And it is specially interesting to turn to his own
version of the actual historical origin of the religious
consciousness as it slowly rises into clearness and
definiteness.
‘ Unlike the ordinary consciousness,” he says, “the
religious consciousness is concerned with that which
lies beyond the sphere of sense”; and the rise of this
religious consciousness, he contends, “ begins among
primitive men with the belief in ‘ a double^ belong
ing to each individual, which, capable of wandering
�HERBERT SPENCER’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION 35
away from him during life, becomes his ghost or spirit
after death ; and from this idea of a being eventually
distinguished as supernatural there develop in course
of time the ideas of supernatural beings of all orders
up to the highest.”
This conclusion is his reading of an immense
number of facts gathered from the traditions of
uncivilised peoples. It is, in short, an attempt to
trace the natural history of the God-consciousness in
man. And to challenge Mr. Spencer is, as usual, but
to bring out his meaning more clearly. “ Surely,”
exclaims Mr. Harrison, “ if the primitive belief [in a
material double] was absolutely false, all derived
beliefs must be absolutely false.”
“ This objection looks fatal,” replies Mr. Spencer ;
“ and it would be fatal were its premises valid.
Unexpected as it will be to most readers, the answer
here to be made is that at the outset a germ of truth
was contained in the primitive conception—the truth,
namely, that the Power which manifests itself in con
sciousness is but a differently conditioned form of the
Power which manifests itself beyond consciousness.”
This shows Mr. Spencer’s view to be that the earliest
form of what ultimately is seen to be God-conscious
ness is simply the direct consciousness of our own
spirits. In other words, it is through the narrow
channel of our self-consciousness that we gradually
become conscious of “ that which lies beyond the
sphere of sense,” and which we call God. The latter
consciousness is but the developed form of the earlier.
What is this but an admission that it is practically
impossible to draw a sharp line of demarcation
between the one and the other ? The Inscrutable
Power is the same in both cases. And Mr. Spencer,
so far from denying or dissipating the fundamental
ideas of religion, shows them to be stereotyped in all
�36 HERBERT SPENCER’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
nature and enthroned in the very citadel of our own
being. Not only is the evolution philosophy thus
robbed of its terrors for many devout souls, but it
shows us philosophy and religion joining hands in a
much more directly religious truth than that which
Mr. Spencer seems formally to enunciate—in short, in
a common declaration of the essential unity of the
Divine and human natures.1 Indeed, Mr. Spencer,
when he sums up his whole philosophy and defines its
relation to the Unseen, strains his vocabulary to find
the most unequivocal terms possible in which to assert
its intensely religious basis. Passages to this effect
might be quoted in abundance. Take this as a
sample:—
The spiritualist, setting out with the same data [as the materialist],
may argue with equal cogency that, if the forces displayed by matter
are cognisable only under the shape of those equivalent amounts of
consciousness which they produce, it is to be inferred that these forces,
when existing out of consciousness, are of the same intrinsic nature as
when existing in consciousness. And that so is justified the spiritu
alistic conception of the external world as consisting of something
essentially identical with what we call mind. (First Principles, p. 558.)
And though in this same passage he seems to accord
equal validity to the materialist argument, he seems
to us rather to overstretch his phi&seology in the
latter connection. For when he says that “ what
exists in consciousness under the form of feeling is
transformable into an equivalent of mechanical motion,
and, in consequence, into equivalents of all the other
forces which matter exhibits,” the word “ transform
able ” seems to connote more than is legitimately
implied or required. It would surely be truer to his
1 As has been well said, “ Every man is in a very true sense essen
tially of divine nature, even as Paul teaches, ‘ Theion genos
but no man is conscious of himself as divine ; otherwise expressed, in
no man does this divine energy directly identify itself in conscious
ness with the source from which it proceeds. ‘ In fact, while we say
and are compelled to say “I,’’while we speak and cannot but speak of
our Self, in reality the essential content or nature of this Self, of this
subjective noumenon, is veiled from us.’ ”
�HERBERT SPENCER’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION 37
own teaching to say that what exists in consciousness
is capable of being manifested in an equivalent of
motion. And when he adds that the phenomena of
consciousness are “therefore material phenomena,”
would it not be more consistent with Mr. Spencer’s
own positions elsewhere to say that these phenomena
of consciousness in the form of feeling, when looked
at from outside, are recognisable through, or suggested
by, material phenomena ?
Mr. Spencer, we submit, is fundamentally an
Idealist. He links the human with the Divine; and
this, as his biographer admits, is the “ basis of
Idealism.” He is not an Idealist, of course, to the
detailed extent to which such a thinker as Lotze and
others of the German school are. Lotze deliberately
professes to “reconstruct an idealistic philosophy on
a materialistic basis.” And he and his school do so
with very great power and on lines that are essentially
Spencerian. They point out that the inseparable
relationship of every material element to every other
by the law of what is called causal connection pre
supposes the inner unity of all material elements.
“ The scientific interest,” Lotze declares, “is satisfied
by the assumption of such elements or atoms as are
actually indivisible in our experience. But the
assumption of a plurality of extended elements, even
if they are conceived as infinitely small, can never be
a final assumption of thought. We must give up
either the unity of the atoms or their extension. We
must conceive atoms as centres of force, each of which
is a starting-point for the working of the original sub
stance.” This inter-relationship of the world accord
ing to law is the objective basis of the philosophy of
religion.
This is the fact which, so far from making the idea
of God superfluous, makes it a necessity of thought.
�38 HERBERT SPENCER’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION I
For even the supposed mechanical conception of
nature, if rigorously followed out, lands us in a
perfect unity, whose only rational name is God. And
Idealism thus, from this point of view, may be said to
rest on and spring from Materialism.
Nothing, however, is more persistently character
istic of Mr. Spencer, once he lays down the all-impor
tant position we have referred to, than his determined
agnosticism as to all ’beyond. The Unknowable
Power is to us—while the most absolute of certainties
—utterly inscrutable.
Our object here, presumptuous as it may seem, is
to show, if we can, that the implications of this posi
tion of Mr. Spencer are deeper and more commanding
than at first sight appears. And we are the more
convinced of this when we find a striking con
vergence going on among Christian thinkers towards
the form which this implication takes in Mr. Spencer’s
teaching. Purely Christian thinkers, of course, start
from quite a different standpoint. And the movement
of their thought is, in form at least, a movement of
surrender—in reality, a movement of retiral and con
centration. But concentration always takes place
round vital points. And the conception which is
steadily being accepted by the strongest Christian
thinkers as the most central, illuminating, and
prolific of all is just that which, we maintain, is more
than implied, is directly expressed in Mr. Spencer’s
philosophy—the essential unity of the Divine and
human natures.
We have it in the well-known passage already cited,
where he tells us that “it is this same Power which
in ourselves wells up under the form of consciousness.”2*
It is the same Power that is subjective as well as
objective. And though he here interposes the word
“form” of consciousness to indicate its subjective
�HERBERT SPENCER’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION 39
form, we find elsewhere, as already cited, that “ the
‘14 is that portion of the Unknowable Power...... ”
So that, making every allowance for the limitations of
language (and in no case is there less need for this
th^n in Mr. Spencer’s), the identity of the Divine and
the human is here deliberately asserted.
The importance of the fact is evident. In one
form or other Mr. Spencer is constantly insisting on
it. He speaks of the tendency towards the identifi
cation of “Being as present to us in consciousness
with Being as otherwise conditioned beyond con
sciousness.’^ His own farewell word to us is to the
same effect:—
And then the consciousness itself, what is it during the time that it
continues ? And what becomes of it when it ends ? We can only
infer that it is a specialised and individualised form of that infinite
and eternal energy which transcends both our knowledge and our
imagination, and that at death its elements lapse into the infinite and
eternal energy whence they were derived. (Facts and Comments,
p. 203.)
This contention of Mr. Spencer is one of the
bravest things yet done by strictly analytical thought.
Unfortunately, Mr. Spencer, after he discovers the
existence of this great Power, refuses to turn his gaze
on its face, or attempt to learn any more about it.
Now, this function of the human spirit, called by
metaphysicians consciousness, cannot be isolated and
castrated in the way Mr. Spencer attempts to do. To
say that the existence of this Power may be present to
us in consciousness, but that His nature as he affects
this same consciousness cannot by any possibility be
present to us there, seems more an unconscious
subterfuge of logic than a contribution to philosophy.
Mr. Spencer’s declaration clearly implies that we
are in some kind of conscious contact with God. But
on what psychological principle can he justly contend
that the only form in which this “ eternal energy
from which all things proceed ” can well up in us is
�40 HERBERT SPENCER’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
»
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- J
that of a bare consciousness of His existence ? Gera
has no meaning to our minds as mere existence. /To
speak of God’s existence apart from His Being is to
be the slave of words, not the possessor of ideas./ And
the question at this stage is not whether we can form
a complete conception of the being of God in our
minds. That is at all times impossible. The ques
tion is: If God touches us at all, is it rational to
suppose that He does so as “mere ” existence ? Our
neighbour’s existence wells up in us as a fact in con
sciousness. If we can attain to a knowledge of our
neighbour’s being and character, whose existence is
so apart from our own, and draws its life directly
and independently from the same source as our own,
shall we not much more be able to attain tp some
knowledge of that eternal energy with which our own
is so interfused, and in which at every moment it
lives and moves and has its being ? On the contrary,
with the windows of our souls clear, how can we escape
that consciousness, avoid that knowledge ?
Is “the categorical imperative” not an equally
real “ welling-up ” in us of that eternal energy from
which this, as “all things” else, “proceed”? If, as
Mr. Spencer says, force in us is the “correlative” of
the universal Power beyond us, is not the ideal in our
minds the “correlative” of the ideal mind beyond
us ? (First Principles, p. 579). No theory of the slow
evolution of the human conscience from the interaction
with our environment can remove God from the process.
That environment is itself but a form of the eternal
energy. Are we to measure the depth of that well
which so fills our consciousness by the first trickle
that reveals its presence ? Shall we not rather look
for its measure in the highest moments of the highest
types of our race, those in whom the unity of the
Divine and human natures is all but a direct and
�HERBERT SPENCER’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION 41>
conscious experience ? The moral ideal in man is the
correlative and counterpart of the Divine Ideal outside
of man, and is as clearly and directly evidence of
God as force, as we experience it in consciousness,
is evidence of the Divine Power beyond conscious
ness.1
Mill rightly contended that, if this Divine Power is
to be understood as but the infinite degree of what
we know in our human experience as power, we are
entitled to do the same with the Divine Goodness and
Justice. Infinite Goodness, in short, must still be
goodness—which is the self-same conclusion as that
more Platonicsflly maintained by Maurice. Thus is
the essential kinship of God and man vindicated both
by philosopher and theologian.
Is the metaphysician’s cold conclusion to be taken
as the measure of the attainment of man’s spirit
towards the unseen^ and the rapt communion of the
mystic to be treated as mere hallucination ?
1 Since writing the foregoing I find the following suggestion of a
similar idea in the slashing critical work of Marie Jean Guyau,
entitled The Non-Religion of the Future, p. 386: “ According to
Spencer, the unknowable itself is not absolutely unknowable. Among
the mysteries which become more mysterious as they are more deeply
reflected upon there will remain, Spencer thinks, for man one
absolute certitude—that he is in the presence of an infinite and
eternal energy which is the source of all things. No religion can
stop with the bare affirmation of the existence of an eternal energy or
infinity of energies. It must maintain the existence of some relation
between these energies and that of the moral impulse in mankind.”
Is it not remarkable, too, to find among the earliest of the Greek
thinkers, busy with the same irresistible search after God, so close an
alter ego of Mr. Spencer as was Xenophanes ? The vivid description
of that thinker given fifty years since may be read to-day, word for
word, as a true portrait of our own great philosopher : “ Xenophanes
was no atheist, but a very earnest theist. He asserted a Being*. If
he had been asked, ‘ What Being ?’ he would have owned that he
could not reply. He could only say what he was not. He approached
the border of negation, but he approached it manfully and reverently;
therefore he did not pass it. He pointed out a void which he could
not fill. That alone would have been a reason for feeling gratitude
to him. But he also saw the way to a radical truth.” (Maurice’s
Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy, p. 110.)
�42 HERBERT SPENCER’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
If so, what a deliberate invitation and encourage
ment to all revelation-mongers ! The human mind
refuses to content itself with merely believing that
“ He is.” As long as thinkers take up that attitude,
so long will “ special revelations ” flourish and
abound. But let thinkers declare, as they are entitled
to do, that the mind of man is in real contact with
God, even though it should legitimate every religion
under the sun, and Christianity will then take its true
place as the high-water mark of man’s vision of God.
Ruskin had a metaphysical and analytical intellect
as keen as any man’s. Listen to his criticism of
Spencer in this connection thirty years since :—
It will not, I trust, be thought violation of courtesy to a writer of
Mr. Spencer’s extending influence if I urge on his attention the
danger under which metaphysicians are always placed of supposing
that investigation of the processes of thought will enable them to
distinguish its forms. As well' might the chemist who had exhaus
tively examined the conditions of vitreous fusion imagine himself
therefore qualified to number or class the vases bent by the breath of
Venice.
Mr. Spencer has determined, I believe, to the satisfaction of his
readers, in what manner thoughts and feelings are constructed ; it is
time for him now to observe the results of the construction ; whether
native in his own mind, or discoverable in other intellectual territories.
That is to say, the true problem is not with what
degree of consecutive exactness can we track the
process of conscious thought, but what does conscious
thought at its unmolested highest teach us ? What,
as matter of historical fact, has it taught the best and
strongest minds the world has known ?
Turn to the highest stages of human imagination.
The mystics were rarely metaphysicians. They had
and have a gift before which mere metaphysical
acumen is comparatively incompetent. Mr. Spencer’s
statistics tell of the slow trend of human thought.
The mystics read their own spirits. Mysticism
discounts the intellectual labour of later generations
and pierces straight to the truth itself. It is this
�HERBERT SPENCER’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION 43
thought of the identity, in some sense, of the soul
with God that has fed their souls, and lifted them
into their rapt communion. Are we to be told that
this spiritual ecstasy is but “ a bubble of the blood ”?
The keenest analysis, we have seen, discloses at last
truths which are enough to tax the powers and fire
the imagination of the most exalted mystics. Are we
to be told that just when man is at his highest he most
misses the Divine ? On the contrary, by the actual
pressure of modern thought, impelled alike by science,
psychology, and religion, are we not beginning to see that
this recognition of God in man is not only on all fours
with the most advanced scientific teaching, but solves
psychological problems and satisfies religious aspira
tions with a completeness that nothing else can match ?
Have not our philosophers and metaphysicians,
from Plato to Kant and Spencer, from whatever
point of view they try to answer the riddle of the
universe, and after each exhausting the ingenuities
of his intellect, found themselves driven at last “ in
a mathematical necessity ” to fall back on the only
Satisfying solution; found that if they calmly, as it
wtere, place their open palm on the world’s breast,
they feel the very heart of God beating through it,
and at once arise and worship ?
And although this satisfaction is only to be reached
by the sacrifice of much phraseology that is naturally
dear not only to the popular mind but to the devout
Christian soul, that is a loss which is more than made
good. The fact remains that we are capable of coming
into a true consciousness of God, and, indeed, cannot
escape from it. And as Mr. Spencer says :■—
This inscrutable existence which science in the last resort is
compelled to recognise as unreached by its deepest analysis of matter,
motion, thought, and feeling, stands towards our general conception
of things in substantially the same relation as does the creative power
asserted by theology. And when theology, which has already dropped
�44 HERBERT SPENCER’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
many of the anthropomorphic traits, eventually drops the last of them,
the foundation-beliefs of the two must become identical.
We do not profess to be authorised expounders of
Mr. Spencer’s definite but cautious pronouncements ;
neither would his friends’ repudiation of such a com
mentary as ours much trouble us. Mr. Spencer,
in such utterances as these, is (and he takes no
pains to hide that he is) what we Christians call
“ feeling after God, if haply he may find him.” It
is generally felt that he does not venture beyond the
vestibule of the temple, but he is on holy ground. His
striking declaration of the identity of our human con
sciousness with the Divine Presence shows him to be
very near to the centre of the deepest religious faith,
and (with reverence be it said) is but a philosophical
way of expressing the profoundest spiritual convic
tion of Jesus himself. “ I am in the Father and the
Father in me.” “ I am in my Father and ye in me,
and I in you,” the divine element overshadowing,
suffusing, and inspiring all nature. As one discerning
writer says: “ This grand and comforting doctrine
of the incarnate presence of God in each man’s con
sciousness is rapidly becoming the dominant concep
tion of God in all the greatest religious teachers.”
And faith, which in spiritual things is open vision,
may enter in and worship where philosophical intel
lectualism declines to commit itself to anything so
presumptuous.
Even Comte’s Grande Etre, Humanity, in so far as
it betokens reality at all, is but his objective method
of reaching the realisation of this God-consciousness.
It is the result of that instinctive yearning after some
permanent object of affection that can only be satisfied
by some form or other of the God-consciousness.
For, as Mr. Spencer says, “it owes whatever there is
in it of beauty to that Infinite Eternal Energy out of
�HERBERT SPENCER’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION 45
which humanity has quite recently emerged, and into
which it must in course of time subside.”
As has been well said, “ In that newest phase of
natural religion called Positivism there is a more
real apprehension of the natural unity of humanity,
both as to its rootage in the past and its progressive
life in the future, than is possessed by many professing
Christians; but its conception of humanity is closed
in by the gates of Hades, on both sides of the gulf
of time. Its Gospel of Humanity is wanting in
the essential element of Divinity, in which alone
can be found the reality, promise, and potency of
eternal progressive life for the individual no less than
for the race, as the Son of God. Christian faith takes
nothing away from Positive conceptions; it compre
hends, fulfils, and eternalises them.”
To Spinoza this same conviction of the presence of
God in the heart of man was irresistible. It swamped
all else, and earned for him the title of the “ Godintoxicated ” man.
Was this conception of the unity of the Divine and
human natures not just the essence, too, of the famous
early controversy over the person of Christ ? In the
light of modern Christian development we come to see
that Athanasius and his victorious allies digged deeper
than they knew, and that (to change the metaphor) in
the casket of their triumphant dogma they succeeded
in preserving intact to later ages the symbol of a
truth which nothing else could have so well preserved.
The instinct of the Church’s strongest thinkers pre
vailed, and they succeeded in stamping on the Church’s
heart for the ensuing fifteen hundred years the
tremendous truth that very God and very man had, in
that unique form at least, come together. The God
man became to believing souls the intelligible symbol
of the Divine Presence in the race of which he and
�46 HERBERT SPENCER’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
they were alike members; and that achievement was
worth all the struggle it entailed.
Mineralogists tell us that the most precious diamond
is but a condensed globule of intensely heated vapour,
thrown up in one of those wild eruptions to which our
earth is subject; and they point us, in evidence, to the
fact that very often, when transplanted from its native
bed to the colder and more temperate regions, the
diamond bursts into a thousand fragments, and merges
itself with the circumambient air.
So with the triumphant dogma of Athanasius.
Called into being by the deep need of the human soul,
it was cradled in wild controversy and matured on the
field of battle. It has been the object of the Church’s
passionate attachment ever since. Though it has
assumed degraded forms in degraded times, it has
survived intact, to become at last the object of the
coolest and most unrelenting criticism, until now it
begins to burst its limits and expand into a universal
truth, revealing in our human nature an inherent
glory else unseen, and lifting all humanity into
Divine fellowship and communion.
On Mr. Spencer’s own showing, then, and utilising
his own deliberate admissions, we see no ground on
which he can consistently object to the construction
of earnest practical religious faith. For we are then
merely following his own principle, and “interpret
ing this great single induction deductively.” Subject
always to the inevitable Spencerian rider that man is
in no sense “ the measure of the Infinite,” or to
the equally decisive declarations of Paul that He
“ dwelleth in light which no man can approach unto,”
“ whom no man hath seen or can see,” there is nothing
theoretically inconsistent with a strong rational reli
gious faith. The Spencerian faith, that final truth
of the Spencerian philosophy, is really what is called
�HERBERT SPENCER’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION 47
Panentheism. It is a consciousness of God which, to
use his own words, “ gives the religious sentiment the
widest possible sphere of action.” “ Every man may
properly consider himself as one of the myriad
agencies through whom works the Unknown Cause.
And when the Unknown Cause produces in him a
certain belief, he is thereby authorised to profess and
act out that belief.” Such a faith by no means
banishes the thought of God’s transcendence, properly
understood; but it brings God so near to us as to
irradiate our whole life with his presence, and make
us rejoice in his perpetual inspiration. To the man
who holds this faith
“ Earth’s crammed with heaven
And every common bush afire with God.”
Mr. Spencer would probably have scouted all asso
ciation with so distinctly religious a conception as
this. But the unity of the Divine and human natures
is a religious as well as a philosophical idea. And the
quotations here given, and the considerations naturally
suggested by them, show, we submit, that to the pro
mulgation of this doctrine Mr. Spencer must be
acknowledged as directly contributory. His phrase
ology is characteristically metaphysical, and his
caution is consistently Agnostic. But the thing
signified is essentially the same. And, if this conten
tion be sound, Mr. Spencer has earned that which he
neither wrought for nor hoped for—the lasting thanks
of every Christian thinker.
�Chapter IV.
HEGEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION—
THE CONTRIBUTION OF PSYCHOLOGY
“ The soul in some way—how, we know not—identical with God.”
—Tennyson.
In previous chapters we endeavoured to show that the
great modern exponents of the purely scientific and
materialistic attitude of mind had reached a conclusion
so profound and suggestive as to constitute the basis
of an idealistic philosophy.
Spencer’s declaration of the identity of the power of
which we are conscious in ourselves (as force, will, or
energy) with the great Power or energy outside of us,
strikes one, when we first encounter it in his writings,
as a boulder from a higher latitude, a meteoric stone
from a world beyond his philosophical range. Yet
there it is—propounded and reiterated—though not,
we venture to think, with his full customary realisa
tion, or at least admission, of its philosophical import.
The object of this chapter is to show that this same
conclusion was reached long ago by minds equally
powerful with that of Spencer, and on lines perfectly
distinct from his, and at first sight apparently quite
opposed in their direction. Purely psychological
thinkers, occupying a position of perfect aloofness
towards all schools of thought, and dealing directly
with the elemental energies of human nature, have in
their more abstract way been equally compelled to
proclaim the same truth, which we cannot but regard,
48
�49'
HEGEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
therefore, as the greatest generalisation of modern
times.
The long, slow outcome of Western thought, from
the days of Plato, and even Thales, to those of Kant
and Hegel, and the whole modern schools of Western
Europe, is just the slow but steadily growing appre
hension of this same truth, veiled, no doubt, in the
garb of metaphysics and psychology, but, when
stripped of its technicalities and cleared from its haze,
seen to be absolutely one with the truth discerned
by Haeckel and Spencer. Nay, more. By the very
necessity of the case, the purely psychological
thinker, when he does reach his conclusion, states
it in a form that is more comprehensive still than
either of the others, and shows them to be but illus
trations in their own sphere of a great dynamic fact
that is part and parcel of the very being of man.
It would be endless to attempt to trace in detail the
long, slow movement of human thought which has
finally culminated in this conclusion. But, in order
to make the conclusion more intelligible, it is almost
necessary to point out the two main lines on which
the movement has proceeded, dealing, as they do,
respectively with the objective and the subjective worlds
—with the thinking being and the object thought.
At one time, and among particular nations, and
especially in the earlier stages of thought, the in
fluence of the objective world naturally predominated,
at another the subjective. In both cases the human
spirit was searching for the same thing—seeking more
or less consciously an access to the Divine Spirit.
It is the generalisation which both have finally
peached that now throws back a light that gives every
step of the movement a meaning, and shows them all
to have been directly or indirectly contributing to the
slowly evolving conclusion.
E
�50
HEGEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
In Egypt, for example, the objective world was
fatally victorious. There was not sufficient intel
lectual reaction in the Egyptian mind. The thinking
spirit was dwarfed and intimidated by the terrors and
immensities of Nature. Egypt, therefore, cannot be
said in strictness to have left us any philosophy.
In India it was exactly otherwise. The Indians pro
duced no history. Their writings, which are psycho
logical and religious, are really their history. Their
spiritual passion, their joy in the soaring, seeing power
of the human spirit, is the special and valuable contri
bution of India to the world’s grasp of the Divine.
In China, on the other hand, the sense of the invisible
and ideal seems almost to have been absent. But this
cannot really be the case. Laotse’s teaching was kin
with Indian and later Western thought. But Confucius
was the typical Chinese mind. And the teachings
of Confucius are not a philosophy at all. They are
but the hard-baked fossils from a soil on which a long
anterior philosophy once flourished. Practical maxims
and ceremonial directions are not philosophy ; neither
are they religion. They are but—in Bacon’s phrase
—its translation into the vulgar tongue. Confucius
inculcated reverential forms. The ancient thinkers of
China had more or less clearly discerned that, in whose
presence reverence was the only fitting attitude of
spirit. Confucius taught rules of conduct between
man and man. The ancient thinkers had grasped
the principle of reason and justice of which all rules
of conduct are but working formulae. This reason was
the divinest thing Confucius knew. This is not a
large or very vitalising contribution to human thought.
But it contained an element of the ideal. It sprang
from the moral vision of that ancient people. A
great nation has lived on it for ages. Even at the
lowest estimate, it is an illustration on a large scale
�HEGEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
51
of the saying that “it is marvellous in what a com
paratively exhausted receiver the Divine spark will
continue to burn.” At the highest estimate, it was
an illustration of astonishing devotion, not to the
vivid conception of a Divine Being, but to what we
may call the metaphysical principle (the idea, as Plato
afterwards called it) of law, order, duty. And in so
far it entitles Chinese thought to a humble place in
the pantheon of Philosophy.
To the Persian mind, again, the spiritual world
seems to have been its native atmosphere. And it
is surely striking to notice that it was through the
exercise of their naturally keen moral sense that they
rose to the conception of the Eternal Spirit. Is it
not in reality a curious anticipation of one of the
modern declarations of European philosophy, in
which Kant acknowledges the Categorical Imperative
as the most commanding evidence to man of the
Eternal Spirit, of which our own is an abiding echo ?
Was its highest spiritual conception, of which the
most fitting symbols they could find were light and
fire, not an anticipation even of the Christian con
ception of Him “ Who is Light, and in Him is no
darkness at all ” ? Yet Zoroaster failed to find a
solution of the moral difficulty of the world. But
who are we, with our Satan and our story of the Fall,
that can afford to smile contempt at the Ahriman of
the Persian theology ?x
i<n a book on The Ideals of the East, just published by a Japanese
author (London : John Murray; 5s. net; 1903), is to be found a very
discerning confirmation of the general view here taken. The author,
Kakasu Okakura, emphasises the unity of Asia," the love for the ultimate
and universal which is the common thought and inheritance of every
Asiatic race,” and finds in “Arab chivalry, Persian poetry, Chinese
ethics, and Indian thought a common life, bearing in different regions
different characteristic blossoms, but nowhere capable of a hard and
fast dividing line.” Speaking of his own special subject, the art of
Japan, he says: “The history of Japanese art becomes the history of
�52
HEGEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
Buddhism, again, was the great Protestantism of the
East. And in its philosophical aspect our Western
Protestantism pales its ineffectual fires before it
altogether. Buddhism not only reasserted with a
vehemence and passion that have astonished the
world, the truth of which its ancient predecessor had
been a great efflorescence—the truth, namely, that
there was a Divine strength in the human spirit, a
power of piercing to the unseen, and of true com
munion with the Eternal Spirit. It carried that faith
to a point not even yet dreamed of by the ordinary
Western mind.
As F. D. Maurice says :—
European sages in the last century and in the present have cried
out: “When will philosophy break loose from the fetters which
priests have imposed upon it ?” Philosophy in Asia performed that
task 2,000 years ago. It threw off the yoke which was become quite
intolerable. It affirmed that man’s soul is capable of unlimited
expansion. It claimed for that soul the homage due to a divinity.
It made no mere idle boast of power. It actually won the allegiance
of multitudes. (Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy, p. 53.)
Or, to use the words of Professor Rhys Davids:—
For the first time in the history of the world, Buddhism proclaimed
a salvation which each man could gain for himself, by himself, in
this world, during this life, without having the least reference to God
or Gods, either great or small.1
This conviction was a tremendous advance on
anything previously attained or attempted. The only
thing that can give it a reasonable explanation to our
minds is the belief that its founder, at least, and his
Asiatic ideals—the beach where each successive wave of Eastern
thought has left its sand and ripple as it beat against the national
consciousness.”
1 Not only so, but, as M. Guyau says, “the Hindu books are the
most extraordinary example of moral symbolism. The entire world
appears to the Buddhist as the realisation of the moral law, sine© in
his view beings take rank in the universe according to their virtues or
vices, mount or descend on the ladder of life according to tbeir moral
elevation or abasement. Buddhism is, in certain respects, an effort to
find in morals a theory of the universe.” (Non-Religionof the Future,
p. 170.)
�HEGEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
53
immediate followers, felt the passionate inspiration of
this very principle, whose slow possession by the
human spirit we are attempting to trace, the affinity
of their own spirits with the Eternal Spirit. In this
light what has often been called mere Atheism was
but Mysticism become conscious of itself, and exer
cising the spiritual strength which intense conscious
ness of the Divine always supplies.
Even when we come to Greece, the great forerunner
and inspirer of the European intellect, what a long
process of vacillating thought do we find ! The philo
sophical and scientific and psychological instincts are
all there. At all hazards the Greek felt that he must
find the reason or cause or single idea (if there was
one) that lay at the root of things. Water, air, earth,
fire, even number, were successively set forth as the
one secret of the visible universe. But these early
Greek physicists were more poets than physicists.
They looked, and dreamed, and allegorised; but the
era of patient observation was not yet. By-and-bye,
however, they began to be conscious of laws or an
order which seemed to govern the inner world of their
own minds. And this conception of the laws of
thought is of interest here, not for its details, but
because it was, so far as it went, a true intuition—a
direct attempt at the analysis of human consciousness.
As such, it was the opening of a new and most
suggestive channel of inspiration as to the very Being
that is at the centre of the universe. “ Know
thyself ” contained the possibility of a true knowledge
of the Divine.
Plato was the first mediator between the two great
factors of the world of thought. He set forth in the
strength of his own spirit, and endeavoured to enter
and breathe the atmosphere of the Divine. Plato the
Seer came down from the Mount like Moses the
�54
HEGEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
Legislator, but not with tables of stone to be a work
ing code for a hard-hearted people. Plato, too, felt
the Spirit of the Eternal coursing through his own
soul, and, with the instinct of the poet and the seer,
he bodied it forth in thoughts that have ever since
been the accepted foundation of all spiritual philo
sophy. As has been well said of him, “ Plato’s
abstractions seem to become for him not merely
substantial things in themselves, but little short of
living persons, and constituting together a sort of
divine family or hierarchy with which the mind of the
individual, so far as it is reasonable and really knows,
is in communion and correspondence.” Plato faced
the problem of duality, and minimised no side of the
difficulties connected with it. He set all his suc
cessors on the right track towards its solution. From
Plato down, it would be a task too minute to attempt
to follow the course of thought in detail. Enough to
point out that from his time, with varying intensity,
each side of this great antinomy came to the front.
It was this double consciousness in its most intense
form that was found in the pure, strong vision of
Jesus, the profoundest and most practical of all the
mystics. The truth which fuses these two sides of the
human consciousness together into a great moral and
spiritual force was not only implicit but even explicit
in his teaching. Jesus was no speculator. But the
intuitive mystical element in the Jewish nature had
come to a climax in him. He saw and felt intensely
this union of the Divine and human natures. It was
this that he lived to teach and died to attest. “ I
and my Father are one.’M “ That ye (His disciples)
may be one, even as we are one.” And if this is the
truth for which the religion of Jesus stands, and of
which it was the first complete assertion, what a light
it throws on the character and person of Jesus!
�HEGEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
55
How is it conceivable or consistent with any just
notions we can form of a Divine economy, that an
emanation of deity of a kind previously unheard of
should have to appear among men, in order to teach
us authoritatively a truth which lay in the direct line
of human thought and investigation 1 Such an idea,
instead of emphasising, tends rather to nullify the
principle of the Divine self-manifestation.
Paul could boldly speak of men as “ the temple of
God,” and to very poor specimens of mankind did he
address these pregnant words. Even uneducated
Peter could describe the object of the Christian life in
such mystical words as these: “ That ye might be
partakers of the Divine nature.”
But the Church for ages almost smothered this
essential truth under a mass of dogmas and symbols
and organisation such as the world has hardly seen
matched elsewhere.
The Reformation (to take a long leap forward) was
essentially, so far as it went, a reassertion of this
inherent dignity and glory of the human spirit.
Descartes' “ I think, therefore I am,” and Schopen
hauer's “ I will, and that is the essential element not
only of my being, but of all spiritual existence,” were
fresh reassertions of the inalienable force of the human
spirit, and did much to hasten the inevitable conclusion.
Spinoza's whole work was an unmatched expression
of this great reassertion, but the pantheistic monism
in which it culminated was, in his day, too absolute a
diet for daily food. Kant's doctrine of the generative
power of the human spirit as the creator and fashioner
of all that can be called true knowledge was the nearest
approach that had been made since the days of Plato
to the solution of the riddle of philosophy. A dis
cerning writer (Schwegler) says of Kant:—
As regards the thing-in-itself that lies behind the appearance of
�56
HEGEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
sense, Kant, in the first edition of his work, expressed himself as if
it were possible that it and the Ego might be one and the same
thinking substance. This thought, which Kant only threw out as a
conjecture, has been the source of the whole subsequent evolution of
philosophy.
But it is when we come to Hegel, and study his
capacious grasp of the whole problem, that we find
the master-mind able to gather up the separate
threads of previous philosophic thought and bind them
together by a piercing insight and bold generalisation
that is nothing else than a reassertion of this intuitive
conjecture of Kant, which we take to be the greatest
generalisation of modern times.
Now, we do not pretend to break down Hegel for
popular consumption. The 1,200 somewhat verbose
pages1 in which The Secret of Hegel has been
disclosed to English readers are enough to deter any
ordinary man from the attempt. But, after all, the
secret, as it is called, is there. And, despite the
caution as to the impracticability of attempting to
convey a general idea of a modern philosophic system
for the benefit of “ well-informed people,” we venture
to see in this Secret of Hegel, the most commanding
analysis of that very consciousness and self-conscious
ness yet made by any philosopher, and the most
daring transference of the results of that analysis to
the curtain of the Infinite, to the very mind of God.
As the author of The Secret of Hegel says, “ that
process of self-consciousness strikes the keynote of the
whole method and matter of Hegel ” (p. 78).
1 Dr. Stirling’s style, in its alliterative, accumulative, and
accentuated ponderosity, is most irritating. It is not confined to The
Secret of Hegel. Here is a passage taken at random from his
Gifford Lectures, p. 279 : “ It is really very odd, but Hume is never
for a brief instant aware that in that he has answered his own
cardinal, crucial, and climacteric question. The immediate nexus,
the express bond, the very tie which he challenged you and me and the
whole world to produce, he actually at that very moment produces
himself, holds up in his hand even, openly shows, expressly names,
and emphatically insists upon. ’ ’
�HEGEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
57
Kant had sounded the same depths before Hegel.
Kant, indeed, had discerned and laid bare to ordinary
thinking men the leading land-marks, the constitutive
elements of human thought. He called these the
“ Categories of Thought.” These categories (which
we need not here refer to in detail) Hegel grasped,
unified, and expanded, and declared them to be
essential elements of that Pure Reason in man which
is absolutely kin and identical with the Universal
Reason which is God.
Hegel, in fact, showed that what the Mystics knew
to be the only satisfaction of their spiritual nature was
also the only possible answer and satisfaction to the
very laws of thought.
A later expounder of Hegel (Professor Wallace,
Prolegomena to the Logic of Hegel) says, emphasising
the very point we here insist on:—
The Hegelian was the first attempt to display the organisation of
Thought pure and entire, as a whole and in its details. The organism
of thought as the living reality and gist of the external world and the
world within us is called the “ Idea ” (p. 174).
The Idea is the reality and ideality of the world, the totality con
sidered as a process beyond time. God reveals his absolute nature in
the several relatives of the process. He is cognisable in those points
where that process comes to self-perception or self-apprehension. They
are the several forms under which the Absolute is cognisable to man.
In logical language, these forms of the Absolute are the Categories of
Thought.
And he proceeds to comment thus on a well-known
and vital philosophical controversy :—
Spencer and Mansel, Hamilton and Mill, are nearly all at one in
banishing God and religion to a world beyond the present sublunary
sphere, to an inscrutable region beyond the scope of scientific inquiry.
He is the Unknown Power, felt by what some of these writers call
Intuition, and others call Experience. They do not, however, allow to
knowledge any capacity for apprehending in detail the truths which
belong to the Kingdom of God.
The whole teaching of Hegel is the overthrow of the limits thus set
to religious thought. To him, all thought and all actuality, when it is
grasped by knowledge, is from man’s side, an exaltation of the mind
towards God; while, when regarded from the Divine standpoint, it is
the manifestation of His own nature in its infinite variety (p. 27).
In short, we may say that God is cognisable by man
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HEGEL’S CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
just because the very spiritual substance of man is a
breath and true part of the Divine Spirit; and the
highest forms in which the human mind can think,
and according to which it is ultimately compelled to
think, are just those features of the Divine mind
which are irrevocably stamped on the human spirit.
This embracing thought of Hegel, then, the unity
of the thinking being and the object thought, of the
subject and the object, of the Divine nature and our
human nature, we take not only on its merits, but
because we find it, as we have shown, to be the
essential identical conclusion reached by quite inde
pendent thinkers.
In respect of their personal attitudes towards
religion, no one would dream of linking together such
men as Haeckel and Spencer with Hegel. Our sole
object here is to show that on quite independent but
analogous lines all three have reached what is essen
tially the same conclusion. All three contribute their
own characteristic corroboration to the teaching of the
religious instinct. They confirm us in the possession
of a solid rational foundation for that which the
human heart demands, and the higher reason has
always supplied.
�Chapter V.
THE MYSTICS’ CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
—THE CONTRIBUTION OE SPIRITUAL
INSIGHT
“Avicenna, the Philosopher,
‘ All that he sees I know. ’
Abu Said, the Mystic,
‘ All that he knows I see.’ ”
Mysticism is often regarded as a transient and unim
portant excrescence on the religious history of man.
On the contrary, it is neither transient nor unim
portant. It is found in active force and in developed
form among some of the earliest peoples of whom we
have any record. East and West, we find it in all
climes and among all races.
The peculiar feature of the mystics is that in their
most characteristic moments and states they seem to
ignore and overleap merely intellectual barriers, and
fly straight to the apprehension of the very truth
which we find so laboriously wrought out by more
cautious and sceptical minds. The mystics, wherever
we find them, profess to have reached the joyous con
sciousness of a union with the Divine Spirit beyond
any power of description which they themselves could
command, or which others, however desirous to do
so, could adequately understand. How is this to be
explained ? How should one man feel himself com
pelled by the hard necessity of his ratiocinative
faculties to plod step by step, and with long oscillations,
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THE MYSTICS’ CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
towards a point which another man seems able to
reach with almost lightning speed, and to leave little
or no tatiocinative track to show his path ? Is there
any/svidential value in the experience of such men
towards understanding the great conclusion which
they, in common with very different minds, arrive at ?
What, in short, is the rationale of mysticism ?
Those who have studied the writings and the lives
of the mystics have not hesitated to declare them to
be the most profoundly spiritual of the race.
One of the most philosophical minds of our day
(the Master of Balliol) has defined mysticism as
“Religion in its most concentrated and exclusive
form, that in which all other relations are swallowed
up in the relation of the soul to God.” Another
Gifford lecturer (Professor Wm. James, of Harvard)
says to the same effect that “ all personal religious
experience has its root and centre in mystical states
of consciousness.” And mysticism is distinguished
from all other phases of mental action in this—that it
cannot be called the direct result of long intellectual
processes. Intellectual differences have formed the
perpetual element of division among ordinary religious
people, and are much modified after every minor or
major “reformation” that takes place. The essential
ideas, and, generally speaking, even the language, of the
mystic recur age after age with remarkable uniformity.
The explanation lies on the surface—the thought of the
mystic is nearer the centre, if we may so say, than
that of any other student of divine things. And if
mysticism be thus more deeply rooted than ordinary
forms of faith, any fluctuation in the form of expres
sion is so lit up by the vivid inner faith as to be seen
as but the play of the intellect round that which is
beyond its grasp. The true mystic thus finds himself
as much at home in the spiritual apophthegms of
�THE MYSTICS’ CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
61
ancient India or Persia as in those of modern Europe.
The mysticism of the ancient Brahmanic faith is
well known; and we refer to it here only to point out
a characteristic feature of mysticism wherever we find
it. One able writer says :—
Mysticism as a genuine, progressive world-illuminating power began
with the Greeks. The Indians, no doubt, asserted the I and the not I
to be one. But they made nothing of this great truth, save to seek,
each man for himself, absorption into the Absolute. The Absolute
was real; the Phenomenal was illusion. The Greeks were more
honest thinkers. 'In short, the Indians were merely mystics. The
Greeks were mystics plus philosophers.
There is undoubtedly truth in this statement. The
mystical consciousness, unless it can be intellectualised—expressed, that is to say, in more or less
definite and illuminating language—will never be of
much spiritual value to other minds—though there is
a most true sense in which the mystic consciousness is
“ineffable”; its spiritual contents cannot be effectively
conveyed from one to another, just as the sun’s rays
may be reflected from one object to another, but the
full strength of his influence must be received directly
by each object for itself. But the form which this
mysticism assumed in the ancient Indian mind was
not the result of a mere unassisted imaginative tour de
force. It had been preceded, we may be sure, by
thought and experience. And though the actual
entry into 4jhe mystic consciousness would no doubt
be what is called an intuitive act, which at one
bound rose above the level of the intellect, brooding
meditation is the soil from which it grows. For the
very perception of the phenomenal as Maya or Illusion
was almost certainly the outcome of long meditation
on the fleeting things of time and sense. And though
they could not succeed in thinking this phenomenal
into God, or conceiving it in terms of God, these
mystical minds felt that there was no abiding city;
that, on the contrary, their own spirits were greater
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THE MYSTICS’ CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
than all these visible things; that this spirit of theirs
must, in some deep sense, be an index to the meaning
of the world; and they clasped to their hearts the
belief that God was not only spirit, like themselves,
but the only Spirit, the only Reality in the universe,
and their own spirits but breaths and sparks of that
Eternal Spirit with whom it was their highest spiritual
satisfaction to feel themselves united. We may call
this philosophy or not, as we choose. It was the profoundest philosophy the world had at that time heard
of. And even European philosophers whose names
no thinker can afford to despise have called these
“ the loftiest heights of philosophy.” The correct
definition of mysticism, however, is a minor question.
The real point is that the mystic—that is, the charac
teristically religious spirit—long since instinctively
grasped the truth which we desire to emphasise : the
union of the Divine with the human.
The Platonic doctrine that the human soul is a portion
of the Divine nature is as simple a digest of the mystic
principle as any. And even Plato was long antici
pated by the old Brahmanic philosophy. “ The
kernel of the Vedantic philosophy—the great sentence,
it is called—is ‘ Tat tv am asi ’—‘ That thou art.’
Thou, 0 neophyte, art thyself the Brahman whom thou
seekest to know. Thou thyself art a part of the All.”
And see how naturally this same thought finds
itself reproduced in our latest modern philosophy.
Hegel says, recognising the affinity to his own
deepest thought, of the great Persian mystic lately
introduced to English readers by Dr. Hastie :—
In the excellent Jelaleddin Rumi in particular we find the unity of
the soul with the One set forth, and that unity described as Love.
And this spiritual unity is an exaltation above the finite and common,
a transfiguration of the natural and spiritual in which the externalism
and transitoriness of nature is surmounted. In this poetry, which
soars above all that is external and sensuous,, who would recognise
the prosaic ideas current about so-called Pantheism ?
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63
It is easy to see how such a faith might lead its
possessors into many extravagancies. Modern illus
trations will occur to every reader. Take Bohme, the
German mystic. Bohme in early life felt so acutely
the working and suggestions of his own spirit that he
instinctively regarded the thoughts which thus came
to him as Divine revelations. And he was nearer the
truth in this than colder natures could imagine. His
consciousness of the Divine was not at fault; it was
no hallucination. But his efforts at exposition were
often confused, and even unintelligible. Not only so ;
his mind was so hampered and bound by an almost
slavish adherence to the dogmas of his day that his
writings. often suggest to the mind of the reader
the wild flutterings of an eagle in the cage of a
sparrow.
There are, in fact, two classes of mystics. One, the
more familiar, consists of such as Bohme, Blake, and
even Swedenborg, whose forte, and at the same time
weakness, was that they felt themselves overwhelmed
by the Infinite—their spirits swayed helplessly beyond
the control of the intellect, in a kind of hypnotic sleep
of the spirit. Their mystical experience intoxicated
them—made them all one as if they were insane.
They often failed to grasp the mystic lesson that their
reason is but universal reason. Hence it was not to
the normal workings of their spirit that they attended.
Voices, visions, ecstatic visitations—these only were
to them messages from God.
In the case of other mystic souls the mighty thought
of their oneness with the All steadied rather than
staggered their intellects. Tyndall, in a letter, recalls
Tennyson saying of the mystical condition, with the
passionate confidence of one who has experienced it,
“ By God Almighty! there is no delusion in the
matter! It is no nebulous ecstasy, but a state of
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THE MYSTICS’ CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
transcendent wonder, associated with absolute clear
ness of mind ” (Memoirs of TennysonfrNoX. ii., p. 473).
The thought of their oneness "with the All freed
them from “ the heresy of separateness,” and
enabled them to say, “If we are one with the All,
the thought that is in us is not our thought, but
simply Thought. It follows that, if we cautiously yet
boldly record the utterances of our own spirit, we shall
be recording the everlasting oracles themselves.”
Thus Plato, Wordsworth, Emerson, and a host of
others. Plotinus, who has been called “ the only
analytical mystic,” only twice or thrice in his life
claimed to have had direct vision of the perfect and
absolute One. His intellect was too active and critical
to admit of its habitual surrender to the mystic
passion.
Inspiration has been called merely “ an intensified
state of consciousness and he is but a poor specimen
of our common human nature in whom the Divine
does not find some more or less conscious flashpoint.
The commonest experience of this, and fortunately
the most valuable for the conduct of life, is that of
our moral convictions. The man who has learned the
force of the categorical imperative, as Kant called it,
or the imperious dictate of a reasonably enlightened
conscience, has learned the presence of the Divine in
his inner nature, even if the thought of it strikes
him as a kind of presumptuous familiarity. “ Stern
daughter of the voice of God ” is not all a metaphor.
We touch the Divine, or, rather, the Divine touches us,
at many points. Who has not felt it ? Who has not
experienced something of that overshadowing of his
spirit that comes through what we appropriately call
Communion—that conscious approach to the Divine
which slowly, but at last instantaneously, passes into
unconscious submersion of the spirit ?
�THE MYSTICS’ CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
65
“Clear thought dies out in love’s absorbed delight.”
“ With thy sweet soul this soul of mine
Hath mixed as water doth with wine.
Who can the wine and water part,
Or me and thee when we combine ?
Thou art become my greater self ;
Small bounds no more can me confine.
Thou hast my being taken on ;
And shall not I now take on thine?”
—Jelaleddin, X.
When that stage of spiritual intensity is reached, the
only language possible is that of symbol. And the
symbols, being but the counters of the intellect, are
but feeble illustrations of that which is the ineffable
and incommunicable. They have their value up to
a certain point. Beyond that, their light is lost in a
brightness that is past their ken.
And yet mysticism is not unrelated to ordered
thought. There is no reason to suppose that it is in
any way incompatible with the largest attainments of
scientific and philosophic thought. On the contrary,
it has nothing to fear from the encroachment of the
scientific spirit. Latest science and latest philosophy
alike point unmistakeably to the truth which is the
core of mysticism. In the words of a careful French
writer,1 “ It is my opinion that mysticism, pure of all
alloy, will expand as much as science, and will expand
with it.” The progress of scientific and philosophic
thought, therefore, only confirms the mystic faith.
Mysticism, in its exercise of what we call intuition,
or deep spiritual passion, has thus all along dis
counted the slow attainment of more prosaic powers.
Spencer’s own conclusion is that mysticism underlies
all knowledge. To-day it is the slow-footed scientific
spirit that is at last coming into line with the swift,
unquestioning faith of the mystic. All shades of the
1 E. Recejae, Essay on the Basis of the Mystic Knowledge, trans
lated by S. C. Upton (Kegan Paul & Co., 1899).
F
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THE MYSTICS’ CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
orthodox faith, if they could recognise their true
interest, would thank God, not merely for the strong,
persistent faith of the mystic, which has borne per
petual witness to that for which all religion stands,
but for the latest outcome of modern thought, which,
so far from weakening that faith, is rendering its
essence more impregnable than ever.
See, for example, how even the Agnostic may find
himself fundamentally at one with the mystic. To
Dionysius, the mystic, Negation and Affirmation were
the two appropriate methods for knowledge of the
Infinite. Vaughan says of him—and the words cannot
fail to recall to memory the ever-recurring language of
our modern Agnostics—“ To assert anything concern
ing a God who is above all affirmation is to speak in
a figure—to veil him. The more you deny concerning
him, the more of such veils do you remove. By Nega
tion we approach most nearly to a true apprehension of
what he is.” Thus does the mystic avail himself of
the Agnostic’s most cherished phrases as the fittest
help in the expression of his own deepest faith. God
is regarded as “ the Nameless,” “ the inscrutable
Anonymous.” With all deference to Spencer’s
favourite phrase, “ the Unknowable,” this of the
Nameless and the inscrutable Anonymous is distinctly
superior. It covers the whole difference between the
Agnostic and the mystic. Of the existence of the
eternal reality both are passionately convinced. Both
are prepared to defend it against all shades of mate
rialists. The Agnostic never gets or hopes to get any
nearer to an apprehension of the Infinite Reality. All
his phraseology is the phraseology of despair. When
he has once satisfied himself of its reality, he im
mediately turns his back and retires from its presence
with a wail of hopeless denials. He thus feels himself
for ever debarred from attempting to commune with
�THE MYSTICS’ CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
67
the Eternal. The mystic, on the contrary, even with
a similar and reverent refrain of denials, feels himself
drawn ever the nearer to the one object of his faith.
“ I am what is and is not; I am the Soul in All. ”—Jelaleddin, XVI.
Dionysius, with the mystic’s ready gift for similes,
aptly compares his negative method of speaking con
cerning the Supreme, to the operation of the sculptor
who strikes off fragment after fragment of the marble,
and progresses by diminishing. With such an issue as
this before us we must beware of becoming entangled
in the limitations and inadequacies of mere words.
To the true mystic language is but noise. As one of
them said ages ago :—
So long as the bee is outside the petals of the flower it buzzes and
emits sounds ; but when it is inside the flower the sweetness thereof
has silenced and overpowered the bee. Forgetful of sounds and of
itself, it drinks the nectar in quiet. Men of learning, you too are
making a noise in the world; but know the moment you get the
slightest enjoyment of the sweetness of the love of God you will be
like the bee in the flower, inebriated with the nectar of Divine love.
(“Ramakrishna,” Nineteenth Century, August, 1896.)
^hus do the mysticism of thousands of years ago and
the latest generalisation of modern philosophy meet
and join hands in one and the same truth. And as
Professor Wm. James suggests (p. 389):—
What reader of Hegel can doubt that that sense of a perfected Being,
with all its otherness soaked up into itself, which dominates his whole
philosophy, must have come from the prominence in his conscious
ness of mystical moods in most persons kept subliminal ?
Our union with the Divine, then, the truth which
was clasped to their hearts by the mystics with the
first appearance of developed thought, has been con
tributed to directly or indirectly by every nation under
the sun; has at last been slowly, and one might say
almost unwillingly, confessed by the purely scientific
men who were not searching for it; has been acknow
ledged by discerning Christian theologians as the
fundamental principle of their faith; has been finally
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THE MYSTICS’ CONTRIBUTION TO RELIGION
grasped and stated in its most comprehensive form by
the legitimate heirs of all the slow deposits of human
thought, and stands forth challenging the verdict, not
only of philosophers, but of every human being who
chooses to think seriously on the subject, and is
destined, we believe, to provide ultimately a great
eirenicon for all the creeds and cults of the human race.
�Chapter VI.
WANTED—A NEW BUTLER
“ There is in progress a movement vastly more important than
that which is the special concern of the higher criticism, and that is
the total reconstruction of theological theory, in fearless logical
accord with the truth of incarnation.”—“ The Christ of To-day”
It would be interesting to trace the disintegrating
and at the same time illuminating effect which the
general naturalistic view expressed in the preceding
pages has on Church dogma. That must be left for
some future occasion. Meantime, it is distinctly
suggestive to note the confusion and perplexity which
the want of such a view creates in the minds of the
more thoughtful adherents of the Church. The best
minds, of course, feel this most. But it is not often
that we find it so vividly illustrated, and even
admitted, as in a recent work by a representative
theologian.
Dr. Fairbairn, of Mansfield College, has lately
brought his proved ability and insight to bear on a
Philosophy of the Christian Religion. It is one of
many like attempts; and we call attention to this one
here because it is an elaborate effort to apply anew,
in the full light of modern science and criticism, the
famous Analogy of Butler. So faithful is the attempt
at reproduction that the good Bishop’s failures, too,
have been carefully repeated, on a scale proportionate
to the larger material now available for the treatment
of the argument. For, as is well known, Butler
attempted too much. In principle, his argument was
69
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WANTED—A NEW BUTLER
irrefragable. It was a memorable tu quoque to the
Deists of his time. But he accepted to the full the
whole dogmatic framework of the Church, and
deemed it to be his duty to show that even dogmas
that have been quite discarded since were equally in
line with his great analogy. Needless to say, that
was an impossible and futile task.
The Bishop’s natural cast of mind and his reveren
tial study of “ the constitution and course of nature ”
assure us that, in other circumstances and with larger
light, he would have been the first man to hail the
slow, orderly, self-manifestation of God as the one key
to Nature and Religion alike. Unfortunately, the
nearest approach he could make to this larger concep
tion was to “prove,” as he endeavoured to do, that
that special dispensation of Providence, the Christian
Religion, being “ a scheme or system of things carried
on by the mediation of a Divine person, the Messiah,
in order to the recovery of the world,” is analogous
to what is experienced in “ the constitution and course
of Nature.” “ The whole analogy of Nature,” he
says, p. 151, chap. v.,“ removes all imagined presump
tion against the general notion of a Mediator between
God and man. For we find all living creatures are
brought into the world, and their life in infancy is pre
served, by the instrumentality of others; and every
satisfaction of it, in some way or other, is bestowed by
the like means ” !
That is to say, the fact that we are brought into
the world by means of the instrumentality and
mediation of our parents is the good Bishop’s proof,
by analogy, that the theological mediatorship ascribed
to Christ, in the Church’s dogmatic system, is a truth
consonant with all Nature.
The Bishop dug from a rich quarry, and his ground
plan was admirable ! But his architecture is
�WANTED—A NEW BUTLER
71
antiquated, and many of his rooms are long since
deserted.
Dr. Fairbairn adjusts his effort to the new situation,
and fortunately puts the crux of the matter plainly
before his readers. “ The problem of the person of
Christ,” he says, “ is exactly the point in the Christian
religion where the intellect feels overweighted by
mysteries it cannot resolve.” Another question
arises—Is that mystery “ a thing of nature, or is it
a made or manufactured article, a myth which the
logical intellect has woven out of the material offered
by a simple and beautiful story”? The theological
mystery of the person of Christ is undoubtedly “ a
made or manufactured article.” We accept Dr.
Fairbairn’s description of the process of its pro
duction :—
The imaginations [of the early disciples and evangelists], touched
by the enthusiasm of an all-believing love, became creative, and they
saw Jesus as if he had been the Messiah they had hoped he was....
and it needed only the fearless logic of a metaphysical, unscientific
age to identify him with Deity, and resolve his humanity by the
incarnation of the Son of God.
But that process of their imagination, and that logic
of a metaphysical unscientific age, were really uncon
scious vindications of that larger truth, that universal
“ mystery ” in which there is nothing that is “ficti
tious or artificial,” but which is, on the contrary,the
full expression of that unity of the Divine and the
human for which Jesus lived and died.
Under the unconscious shelter of this deeper truth,
the conflicting theological contentions of the Gnostics,
the Arians, and the Athanasians find their explana
tion and their historical justification. Without the
hard-fought decision of the early Councils, this larger
truth would have been lost for ages. Without this
larger truth, waiting its full realisation, the deification
would have remained in the region of pure dogma,
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WANTED—A NEW BUTLER
and lost its fertilising power altogether. At the
present moment this is more apparent than ever
before in the history of Christian theology. Scaf
folding after scaffolding is being taken down, and the
“ building not made with hands, eternal in the
heavens,” and in the heart of man, is being laid bare
to our view, and all the struggles of past ages justified
and made intelligible.
Dr. Fairbairn himself admits that it is not the
Gospel records that supply him with the chief mystery
of the person of Christ:—
It is not Jesus of Nazareth who has so powerfully entered into
history. It is the deified Christ, who has been believed, loved, and
obeyed as the Saviour of the world. The act of apotheosis created the
Christian religion (p. 15).
The question as to the person of Christ is a problem directly raised
by the place he holds and the functions he has fulfilled in the life of
man collectively and individually.
And so boldly does Dr. Fairbairn sum up his solution
of the problem that he says :—
The conception of Christ stands related to history, as the idea of
God is related to nature—i.e., each is in its own sphere the factor of
order and the constitutive condition of a rational system (p. 18).
This is the point where a sober philosophy parts
company with Dr. Fairbairn. For, needless to say,
this is a tremendous contention to maintain. Here
is how he attempts to base his analogy:—
What do the theories of energy and evolution mean but the con
tinuance of the creative process ? But if new forms in biology have
emerged, if from however mean an origin, in a mode however low,
mind once began to be, why may not new and higher types appear in
the modes and forms of being known to history as politics, ethics,
religion ? In other words, may not the very power which determined
the appearance of the form, and the whole course of evolution from
it, determine also the appearance of creative persons in history, and all
the events which may follow from their appearance ? Might we not
describe the failure of the fit or needed man to appear at some supreme
moment as a failure which affects the whole creation ? And would
not the work which he did for God be the measure of the degree of
the Divine presence or quantity of the Divine energy immanent
within him ? It seems fair, then, to conclude that, so far from the idea
of a supernatural person being incompatible with the modern idea of
nature, it is logically involved in it!
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73
Will any tyro in logic pretend that this attempted
analogy from new forms in biology can by any strain
of legitimate reasoning suggest a “ Divine Man,” a
“ stupendous miracle,” as he elsewhere calls Christ ?
The attempt made in this passage is quite unworthy
of Dr. Fairbairn, and absolutely inconsistent with the
profession of his preface. He shuffles and alters the
cards in such a way that, beginning with the innocent
phrase, “ new and higher types,” he passes on to
“ creative persons
then deliberately steps from the
plural into the singular number, “ the fit or needed
man,” which is still, however, conceivable as one of’
an orderly series; and at last boldly “ concludes ” for
“ a supernatural person,” as being “ logically
involved ” in the idea he started with. This is first
to parade a philosophical attitude, and then repudiate
it inch by inch.
Supernatural man—that is to say, man conceived
in terms of the invisible and transcendental—Dr.
Fairbairn apparently cannot bring himself to treat
seriously as an element in philosophy. And yet he
speaks of “the incarnate reason we call man”
(p. 291), and in many passages uses language which
shows how willingly, if he dared, he would utilise this
larger conception if only he could reconcile with it the
idea of “ the ” supernatural person, the “ stupendous
miracle.” Even his friendly reviewer, Dr. Orr, feels
compelled to point out this inconsistency. Referring
to Dr. Fairbairn’s contention for the perfect super
natural personality of Christ (p. 92), Dr. Orr says:—
This is finely put, and undeniably has truth in it. But language
must not conceal from us the fact that this mode of interpreting the
supernatural, however noble, leaves us still a long way from the kind
of supernatural implied in the incarnation, as Dr. Fairbairn would
have us understand it, or in miracles like those of the evangelical
history, as Dr. Fairbairn in a later chapter (pp. 331-5) defends them.
What we have reached so far is the supernatural as a spiritual
principle in nature, but not a supernatural which transcends
�74
WANTED—A NEW BUTLER
nature, save in the sense in which every man as personal and
ethical is supernatural. The formula applicable to the former—viz.,
that the supernatural is but the natural viewed under a changed
aspect (pp. 56, 307, etc.)—can certainly not be stretched without
amphiboly to cover the supernatural of the Gospel and the Creeds.
Dr. Fairbairn’s idealistic friends will go with him his whole length in
the one contention. They would probably not go with him a single
step in the other.1
Dr. Fairbairn’s comparison of Christ and Buddha
is remarkably well drawn out. We cannot deal with
it here in detail. Sufficient to say, nothing could be
more strained and inconsistent than the quite opposite
conclusions he draws from two cases admittedly so
similar. Here again, Dr. Orr (though, like all his
confreres, without the full courage of his conviction)
says:—
Here we may begin to feel that we are getting on very slippery
ground indeed. There must be interpretation and apotheosis by
the community, but in the case of Buddha, at any rate, that apotheosis
is purely imaginative—fictional. Is it to be presumed that it is the
same with Christ ? Dr. Fairbairn would repel that inference with
his whole soul, but in some of his parallels he comes perilously near
suggesting it.2
And again, referring to Dr. Fairbairn’s appeal to
history as the ultimate verification of the claims of
Christ:—
Might not the same argument, mutatis mutandis, be urged as estab
lishing the truth of the conception of the idealised Buddha ?
For our own part, we accept Dr. Fairbairn’s bracket
ing of creation and incarnation. We are even pre
pared to press the analogy. For, if truly applied, it
is illuminating in the highest degree. But every
analogy that can be consistently drawn from the idea of
creation points not to a single historical event like the
life of Christ, as Dr. Fairbairn contends, but to a fact
as fundamental and universal as creation itself—the
incarnation of God in humanity.
If creation, as the rationale of the material universe,
1 Contemporary Review, September, 1902.
2 Ibid.
�WANTED—A NEW BUTLER
75
be incarnation, as Dr. Fairbairn says—that is to
say, an embodiment of the Divine so far as it goes
—so, the analogy teaches us, incarnation, as the
rationale of the moral and spiritual world, is the
embodiment of the Divine in a sense and to a
degree of which the material universe is only a
pictorial suggestion.
If the promise and potency of all organic life is
enshrined in the germ which science has disclosed as
its secret, so, if the analogy has any force at all, in
that same germ there lies the promise and potency of
all the moral and spiritual life of man.
What the precise method of the Divine inhabitation
may be neither science nor psychology will probably
ever fathom. But in both respects the germ is
possessed by the Divine energy, and all the wondrous
life of man—body, soul, and spirit—lay latent in its
insignificant folds.
It is painfully evident that Dr. Fairbairn feels the
inadequacy of his own attempt to apply the Bishop’s
method to the problem which faces us to-day. It is
this that explains his aspiration after something more
effective than Butler’s Analogy.
11 The time is coming,” he says,“ and we shall hope
the man is coming with it, which shall give us a new
analogy, speaking a more generous and hopeful lan
guage, breathing a nobler spirit, and aspiring to a larger
day than Butler’s.” And the striking thing is that, feel
ing this inadequacy so acutely, he was unable to grasp
the larger analogy when it was put vividly before him.
Dr. Fairbairn came into personal contact in India with
men to whom the larger conception of incarnation is
part of their spiritual being, and it is deeply inte
resting to see how Dr. Fairbairn’s mind was affected
by this contact. He admits frankly that he was both
‘ ‘ illuminated and perplexed ” by it. “It was not that his
�76
WANTED—A NEW BUTLER
previous knowledge of their religion was found to be in
correct or false, but that it was mistaken in its emphasis.”
This is a confession that does Dr. Fairbairn credit,
and it expresses very correctly the exact position of his
mind. He saw the larger truth, and was “ illumi
nated.” He failed to see—or, rather, as we believe, he
could not afford to admit—the radical importance, to a
true philosophy of the Christian religion, of the great
predominant doctrine of India, “ the community of
Gods and men,” as Dr. Fairbairn calls it, or the in
carnation of God in humanity, to give it its proper
name. This is what “ perplexed ” him. “ The Jew,”
he tells us, “ could not conceive how his God could
become incarnate in any man. The Hindu cannot
conceive how any man could be the sole and exclusive
incarnation of God. He thinks of God as incarnate
in every man and in all forms of life. In so thinking
he makes incarnation in the Christian sense impos
sible ; and, by deifying everything, he undeifies all.”
Evidently, according to Dr. Fairbairn, we may have
too much of the Divine! But “ what God hath
cleansed, that call not thou common ”! So what God
has glorified by his presence, that call not thou
common or undeified, else you fly in the face of that
very Scripture whose letter you so magnify.
This truth requires no twisted or strained analogies
to support it. Its perfect analogy with all Nature is
complete. Dr. Fairbairn constantly flutters around it,
but can never fling himself on it, or tear himself
away from his great presupposition. He can say in
one passage that “ the reason that is in man is one
with the universal reason.” But for the practical
purpose of his philosophy that is a forbidden fruit to
him. He is afraid to pluck it, but cannot keep his
eyes off it. Or, to change the metaphor, he is like the
timid bather who cannot trust himself beyond the
�WANTED—A NEW BUTLER
77
solid footing to which he has been accustomed, having
no faith that the sea, the apparently yielding sea, can
ever support him.
♦
The incarnation of God in all men, the manifestation of the Creator
in the whole race he had created, might be an arguable position, but
not its rigorous and exclusive individuation or restriction to a single
person, out of all the infinite multitude of millions who have lived, are
living, or are to live. In some such manner the understanding, by
means of its keen, dexterous logic, might argue that “the ” incarnation
was a mere fictitious and artificial mystery.
, We feel, after reading such a passage, that the
writer is really envying the “ arguable position ” and
the “ keen dexterous logic ” to which he somewhat
cynically refers. His dogmatic presupposition blinds
him to the fact that this larger doctrine of incarnation
is implicit, and in some places quite explicit, in his
own faith, as that faith was taught by the Founder
himself.
To surrender what he has no better name for than
“ the metaphysical conception of Christ,” and to hail
in its place this great spiritual dynamic fact, would
not only have fed his own spirit, but satisfied his
intellect and proclaimed the essential truth of all
religion.
Dr. Fairbairn, when stating “ the problem,” in his
opening chapter, speaks of the “mass of intricate
complexities and incredibilities ” which surround the
orthodox view of the person of Christ. And after
letting “ the dexterous logician ” speak for himself, he
says:—
The dexterous logician is not the only strong intellect which has
tried to handle the doctrine. The contradictions which he translates
into rational incredibilities must either have escaped the analysis of
men like Augustine or Aquinas, or have been by their thought
transcended and reconciled in some higher synthesis. It is a whole
some thing to remember that the men who elaborated our theologies
were at least as rational as their critics, and that we owe it to
historical truth to look at their beliefs with their eyes (p. 13).
We accept the spirit of Dr. Fairbairn’s reference to
these ancient authorities. There is a higher synthesis.
'
*
�78
WANTED—A NEW BUTLER
It by no means follows that they had seized it. There
is not necessarily any presumption in maintaining
that these “ rational incredibilities,” of which Dr.
Fairbairn speaks, have gradually forced modern
thought towards a synthesis that, pin its simplicity,
universality, and spiritual power, gives them all their
due place, and preserves, for the higher life of man,
all the truth which they contained. Illusion and
tentative dogma have formed a large element in the
moral and spiritual progress of man, Christian and
pagan alike! We can only reconcile the confused
attitude of Dr. Fairbairn in this whole book by
suggesting that, to use a modern phrase, his subs
liminal consciousness is loaded with the true higher
synthesis which we here emphasise, but that his
logical faculties are enlisted in the defence of the
orthodox conceptions. He frequently writes as if
under the influence of the former, but perpetually
falls into the meshes of the latter.
We commend to Dr. Fairbairn and his whole school
the following from the Master of Balliol’s latest
exposition. We know of no philosophical pronounce
ment, in recent times, that means so much for the
future of Christian thought, and that says what it
means in plainer and less pugnacious language:—
From the beginning Christianity involved a new conception of the
relation of God to man. But this conception Was at first an unde
veloped germ—a germ of which the whole history of thought from that
time has been a development. It was the idea of God in man, and
man, by a supreme act of self-surrender, finding the perfect realisation
of himself as the son and servant of Go<t- It was this as embodied in
an individual, to whom others might attach themselves, and by this
attachment participate in the same life....... The issue of the contro
versy (of the early centuries) at the moment was the assertion of the
unity of Divinity and humanity in Christ, but this issue was deprived
of a great part of its meaning, in so far as it was confined to Christ
alone, and in so far as the unity was regarded, not as a unity realised
in the process of the Christian life, but a unity that existed indepen
dently of any process whatever. The imperfection of this result was
explained by the necessity that the principle of unity of the human
and the Divine should be asserted, ere it could be worked out to any
�WANTED—A NEW BUTLER
79
further consequences. Christ was the one crucial instance, which, if
it could be maintained as real, must inevitably determine the whole
* issue. And if one man, living such a life of self-sacrifice for mankind,
was in perfect unity with God, so that his consciousness of himself
could be taken as the Divine self-consciousness, then must not the
same be true of all who followed in the same road
In that case,
the highest goodness was shown to be only the realisation of an ideal
which every human soul, as such, bears with it.
There is the true philosophic ring. There is the
true rationalising of the Christian religion, showing it
to be, when rightly understood, in perfect harmony
with the whole “ constitution and course of Nature.”1
If Dr. Fairbairn could have assimilated an inclusive
principle, such as we have endeavoured to set forth,
instead of the absolutely exclusive doctrine which
forms the assumption of his book, he would not have
been merely “ perplexed ” by what he saw and heard
in India—he would have had his whole philosophy
widened and rationalised, and would have been able
to proclaim a far greater Analogy than Butler’s, in a
♦ universal truth which, once it is really seen, finds a
response in the human spirit everywhere. He would
have proved himself a pioneer in a movement which,
sooner or later, must secure the spiritual sympathies,
as *®ell as the philosophic acceptance, of Western
« Europe. Dr. Fairbairn, in this great undertaking,
has *lost his chance, and completely fails in the
* * philosophical ” task to which he set himself. Will
any candid reader maintain that such argument as Dr.
^Faii^irn’s book contains induces him to believe that
human history, ancient and modern, “ has no meaning
apart from Christa in the sense in which Nature is
unintePljgible without God ” ? That is the demand
which Dr. Fairbairn makes on our reason.
We can only conclude by saying that, while he has
adde$ yet another to the innumerable apologies for
(rlasgow Gifford Lectures.
*
*
�WANTE0—A NEW B%TLEE .
the Christian dogmatic system, he has made more >
patent than ever the impossibility of framing a con
sistent “ philosophy ” of that dogmatic system as it at
present stands. The larger Analogy he prays for is
ready to our hand * and Dr. Fairbairn might have
been the modern Butler.
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PRINTED BY WATTS AND CO., I7, JOHNSON’S COURT, FLEET STREET, LONDON, E.C
�By the same Author.
■ “A RELIGION THAT WILL WEAR."
SECOND EDITION.
Some Personal Opinions.
Professor MAX MULLER.
“A book with most of which I fully agree, and from which I have
learned a great deal. ”
STOPFORD BROOKE,
“I think it will do a great deal of good among laymen, more proI bably than any authorised preacher is likely to do. Things are faced
not in the conventional manner, and without the catchwords of the
mere theologian. I am glad to see the book, and wish it God-speed.”
i
PROTAP CHUNDER MOZOOMDAR, Leader
of
the
Brahmo
Somaj, Calcutta.
“I must beg your forgiveness for writing to such length. Believe
me, I have been unconsciously led to it by the inspiration of your
book.”
PRINCIPAL STORY.
“Iam struck with its freshness and force and sincerely religious
F tone. I do not think I should differ from you to any essential extent.”
Mk
L
I
E
I
Professor HASTIE.
“The high-water mark of lay thought in theology.”
Professor MENZIES, St. Andrews.
“Able and most interesting; symptomatic of the position of the
Presbyterian laity.”
PRINCIPAL HODGSON, Edinburgh.
“A remarkably interesting and significant little book,”
Dr. JOHN GLASSE, Old Greyfriars, Edinburgh.
“I am sure that it will do much good. The spirit of the book is.
excellent. It is written with great intelligence, and every subject is
treated with marked moderation. There is not a canting statement
in it, from beginning to end.”
Dr. STRONG, Melbourne.
“ ‘ A Layman ’ shows an intimate knowledge of theology, such as
many clergymen do not possess. It is an honest attempt to get down
to the bed-rock of religion, and to show that religion and Christ abide
in the deepest and truest elements of human life, though theology
may change and critics re-write the Bible.”
ROBERT BIRD, Author of Jesus the Carpenter, Joseph the
Dreamer, etc.
„ It is a valuable contribution to practical Christianity for thinking
men, and should place some wavering feet on solid ground. I am
delighted that a layman life myself should have read so widely and
reflected so deeply about things over which the fogs of theology have hung
for centuries.”
London: JAMES CLARKE & CO.
�By the same Author.
“A RELIGION THAT WILL WEAR."
SECOND EDITION.
A Few Press Notices.
GLASGOW HERALD.
“ The writer reflects the attitude of many thoughtful and religious
minds towards the Churches and the Christian Faith.”
SCOTSMAN.
“ It is a clearly-stated and interesting discourse, which meets the
objections raised by philosophy and science to revealed religion,
and offers an acutely reasoned and well-informed, if perhaps not
definitely conclusive, intellectual justification of the message of Jesus."
ABERDEEN FREE PRESS.
“ It is a book fitted to make both believer and unbeliever think.”
CHRISTIAN LEADER.
“ An able book, strongly written, broad and reverent.”
THE LITERARY WORLD.
“ ..In both these instances we trace that discrimination between
the essential and the dispensable which is a chief qualification for
work of this kind. ”
LIVERPOOL MERCURY.
“Very able, thoughtful, devout, and scholarly.... .We do not
remember having seen this line of thought put more persuasively or
more forcibly.”
CAMBRIDGE INDEPENDI^W***-.
“ The case is stated with great argumentative power, much intel
lectual penetration, and, at the same time, great clearness of expres
sion.”
THE OUTLOOK, New York.
“ The book is an eirenicon, addressed to unbelievers. It should be
read by believers also.”
THE OUTLOOK (2nd Notice).
“Thoroughly modern in spirit, and thoroughly religious also;
wholly free from all bonds to theological formulas, it presents the
simple faith that Jesus held as at once reconciling and rounding out
the conflicting beliefs of men, and satisfying all the essential demands
of our nature.”
London: JAMES CLARKE & CO.
�
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Haeckel's contribution to religion
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Mories, A. S.
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 80 p. ; 20 cm.
Notes: Extensive foxing. Includes bibliographical references. Issued for the Rationalist Press Association, Limited. Other works by the same author on back page. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
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Ernst Haeckel
Philosophy
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Ernst Haeckel
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Religion
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ft aJX-Rl
fJA'XO
IN SEARCH
' Ji
OF
A RELIGION,
AND NOTES BY THE AV AY.
BY
CHARLES C. CATTELL.
Author of “ The Martyrs of Progress,” Etc.
“ Fie that will know the truth of things must leave the common
ancl beaten track, which none but weak and servile minds are satis
fied to trudge along continually........... Truth, whether in or out of
fashion, is the measure of knowledge, and the business of the
understanding ; whatsoever is besides that, however authorised by
consent, or recommended by rarity, is nothing but ignorance, or
something worse.”—John Locke, sect, xxiv., Partiality.
LONDON :
CHARLES' WATTS, 84, FLEET STREET, E.C.
gQ,
Saul y-
�IN SEARCH OF A RELIGION.
SECTION I.
THE STUDENTS AND TEACHERS OF RELIGION.
It may be a weakness, but it is a confirmed habit .of
mine, to seek the aid of a superior understanding to my
own, with a view of raising my own to the same level.
The use of authorities and great names, when honestly
applied in an independent spirit, is to confirm the view
taken by the writer who applies them. The authority
that admits of no appeal is useless to an independent
thinker, and is by me dispensed with. I purposely
avoid all writers that presume to settle disputed points
for others, and intentionally ignore the Church that sets
itself up as the arbiter of the destinies of the whole
human race. However convenient such a Church may
be to weak or lazy people, it is so clearly an imposition
on the credulity of mankind, and so obvious an insult to
the reason of man, that its pretensions and claims must
be alike discarded in all inquiries entered upon by a
rational human being.
Religion, as a profession, is a paying concern, and
hence it is natural that professors should claim, even as
a matter of self-interest, the particular religion they ad
vocate as being the best. But it is well known that there
is great difference between buying anything and selling
it. • When men in general become sufficiently acquainted
with themjarious markets in the religious world, there will
be greater difficulty in obtaining customers. At the
present time the religions of various nations have not
appeared in Europe, except in the form of samples or
extracts; and the prevailing custom of the priests is to
persuade all would-be religionists that free trade in reli
gion is not necessary, that they have the best possible
article in the world, and that all others that might be
imported are impostures, or spurious editions oi the
�IN SEARCH OF A RELIGION.
3
original genuine article. Although their assertions are
utterly unfounded, they gain currency and credence.
Of course, the preachers of the great religions of the
world are either believers in what they teach, or main
tain the doctrines because they are paid to do so. Be
sides these two—the real believers and the professors—
there is another class of men, who follow the custom of
their fathers and the habit of the nation in which they
live. It generally happens that in an age of ignorance
there is uniformity of belief, and in an age of inquiry a
diversity of opinion. The past two hundred years of
European history appear conclusive on these points.
Forbes, in his “ Oriental Memoirs,” states that at one
time probably the Hindoo religion spread over the
whole earth. He finds signs of it in every Northern
country, in systems of worship, in various sciences, in
the names of the stars, in the holidays and games, and
in the laws, coins, monuments, and languages. There
is certainly a similarity between all superstitions, and
the religions of the Greeks, Hindoos, Romans, and
Christians have a family likeness of a very striking cha
racter. It must be admitted, however, that, owing to
modifications by climate, race, laws, scientific discoveries,
and the development of poetry, art, and literature, the
various religions of the world would appear, to the un
practised observer, as having each, in their turn, some
claim to an independent origin and purpose. Some
minds have no idea of perspective ; it is always a full
moon they see. What appears before them has no his
tory ; to them it is now as it was in the beginning : as to
what it was in the beginning they are not concerned to
inquire. Our cousin, the Yankee, did inquire, and he
found that there was nothing new and nothing true, and
that it did not matter 1 When a genial soul gets tired of
the conflicting evidences and contradictory views, he
turns—good, easy man !—and consoles himself with
“ Ah well ! it will be all the same a hundred years
hence.”
There are, however, persons who cannot stifle their
desire to know ; they earnestly strive after the true and
the best; they search for treasures under the sincere
belief that there are some hidden. Very few are inclined
to investigate the claims of the religions of various na
tions ; they find sufficient variety in their own country.
�4
IN SEARCH OF A RELIGION.
There are two paths in England both of which have
travellers; the one is occupied by inquirers after the
right road to heaven among the many announced ; the
other is occupied by inquirers as to whether there is any
road to heaven at all, or anybody who knows anything
of heaven itself. Philosophically considered, the latter
path is the best; the method implies that everything
must be proved, that nothing will be taken for granted,
and that demonstration alone will satisfy the inquirer.
This is the sure and certain hope that every inquirer
has a right to look for, and the demand is in conformity
with reason and common sense,
The most numerous class of inquirers, however, assume
that there is one true religion, if they could but find it;
and, owing to the vast .variety presented, the inquiry is
very perplexing, and sometimes consumes the best part
of a lifetime. The philosophical explanation is that the
difficulty arises from the fact that the inquiry is con
cerned with subjects about which nothing is known. The
restless nature of the inquiring mind needs long training
before it can take John Locke’s advice, and sit down in
quiet ignorance of all transcendent subjects. A remark
able book published some years ago by Mr. Herbert
Spencer puts this matter still stronger, for he declares
that the power which the universe manifests to us is
utterly inscrutable. He holds this to be the widest and
most certain of all truths, the result of the most careful
research, and a conclusion arrived at by the most rigor
ous logical process. Notwithstanding the conclusions
and declarations of philosophers, the inquirer finds in
every country distinct societies of men, ever ready to
set his mind at rest, and to present him with a true reli
gion, verified by scholarship, history, and personal expe
rience. Not only are they sure—each of them—that
theirs is the true religion, but they are equally certain
of the falsity and dangerous character of every other
religion in the world. The inquirer who accepts the
assertion of each, that theirs alone is true, and every
other false, is placed in a logical dilemma, for, if he
takes the word of each, the only possible deduction is
that the whole are false. The only way out of the diffi
culty is to reject the whole, or to select one, and read
only such books and arguments as are written in its
favour. So long as you read only one side of a contro-
�IN SEARCH OF A RELIGION.
5'
versy, the chances are in favour of your being free from
difficulty and doubt. There is this drawback : for all
you know to the contrary, the religion you select may
be the wrong one.
Lord Bacon would not describe you as “ a believer,”
but only as one of those persons who “believe that they
believe.” Leighton says that men who know nothing
have no doubts; but he maintains, as Coleridge does,
that the road to belief is through doubt; “ never be afraid
to doubt; he never truly believed who was not made
first sensible of unbelief.” Dr. Herbert Croft says that
it is not in any man’s power to make himself believe
anything further than his reason shows him, “ much less
Divine things.” But the clerical party maintain that
“ Divine things ” are not to be approached by the only
faculty man has for distinguishing truth from error:
these Divine things are said to be “above reason.” If
that be so, the uselessness of endowing man with reason
is obvious ; but how the clerical party became acquainted
with “ things above reason ” is not so obvious, unless we
concede, what they sometimes claim, that they are a
superior order of beings, endowed with supernatural
powers, by which they see invisible things, and perceive
things which do not exist. It is quite natural that those
whose profession it is to guide men should warn us that
reason is an unsafe pilot through the raging sea of con
flicting opinions; that through this dark and dreary vale
of tears reason is a blind, fallacious guide; but our ex
perience is that only those decry reason and despise
wit who find these agents powerful enemies of their
pretensions, and the purpose they wish to effect. They
may urge that the exercise of the rational faculties may
breed dissension in the Church, lead us away from the
beliefs of childhood, and possibly from the religion richly
endowed and protected by the State If so, the religion
of the babe and the State must get on as well as it can
without us.
The consequence of exercising reason in matters of
faith is that it leads to inquiry, and thus to knowledge,
which always proves destructive of superstition, which is
opposed to all criticism, and especially criticism of itself
It has always anathematised those who attempted to
examine it. The orthodox of every age fear free thinking
and free inquiry, and denounce them as the worst of
�6
IN SEARCH OF A RELIGION.
crimes. The murderer can have the consolation of the
priest •, but the doubter in religion is cast into outer
darkness among those who weep and wailj and gnash
their teeth. Some men may reason wrongly, others not
at all •, but it has always been the practice of the friends
of superstition to persecute men who do reason. Lord
Bacon says : “ It was a notable observation of a wise
father that those who held and persuaded pressure of con
sciences were commonly interested for their own ends.”
Margaret of the Netherlands advised a much wiser and
more reasonable policy. She said: “Whois this Luther?
........ ..He is an illiterate monk............. Is he so? I am
glad to hear it, Then do you, gentlemen, who are not
illiterate, but are both learned and numerous—do you, I
charge you, write against this illiterate monk? That is
all you have to do. The business is easy, for the world
will surely pay more regard to a great many scholars and
great men, as you are, than to one poor illiterate monk.”
No better advice could have been given, for, as J. S.
Mill remarks in his work on “ Liberty,” “ there is always
hope when people are forced to listen to both sides.”
SECTION II.
RELIGION AND FREE INQUIRY.
It is in vain that Pope, Church, and King proscribe the
free exercise of thought in matters theological. Reason
will assert itself in spite of all attempts to curb it. There
is no power on earth which can prevent the encroach
ments of reason. It is the guide of man unfettered, as
well as the power to break the fetters imposed upon him
by priestcraft and despotism, which can no more stem
the tide of rational inquiry than the king and his cour
tiers could prevent the advance of the sea. They must
clear oqt of the way, or be trampled under foot by the
�IN SEARCH OF A RELIGION.
7
onward march of freedom. The progress of Freethought,
speech, writing, and action is of more importance to
mankind than any Constitution, Chmch, or other insti
tution in the world.
In the seventeenth century a futile and foolish law was
passed in France condemning to death any person who
taught doctrines antagonistic to those of Aristotle. In the
thirteenth century, in the same country, a law ordered
all his works to be burnt. In various countries in
Furope, at one time, not only authors were excommu
nicated, but also even grasshoppers and other insects.
In fact, absurdities of this kind, showing the folly of our
ancestors, are innumerable. All these foolish enactments
were intended for the good of the persons punished, and
for the protection of truth. The heretic was looked upon
as an enemy in the field of faith, as the grasshopper
was in the field of grain ; hence both were excommuni
cated. To-day the men who attempted to surround the
free inquirer with pains and penalties appear on a level
with the men of Northamptonshire, who tried to keep
the cuckoo out of the orchard by a high hedge; but,
although equally foolish, the results of their folly have
been vastly different. Neither succeeded, but the attempts
to keep the cuckoo out of the fold of the- faithful were
attended by famine, privation, and murder. Yet the
persecutors seemed unconscious that they were commit
ting crimes of the deepest dye against truth and huma
nity. That these enemies to the progress of truth, and
the inflictors of torture and mental agony upon their
fellow creatures, were persons of irreproachable cha
racters, and of pure intentions, has been amply attested
by the historical evidence adduced by both Buckle and
Mill.
Intolerance seems natural to the theological mind; it
appears a duty to put down, by some means, all opposi
tion, especially that which tends to show the futility and
immorality of the principle upon which intolerance is
founded. Mr. Mill shows clearly that the interference
with, and coercion of, those who exercise their power to
think, is illegitimate; that the best government has no
more right to interfere than the worst. The following
appears to me self-evident; and Mr. Mill, in my opinion,
sums up and disposes of the whole case in this sentence :
“ If all mankind, minus one, were of one opinion, and
�8
IN SEARCH OF A RELIGION.
only one person of a contrary opinion, mankind would
be no more justified in silencing that one person than
he, if he had the power, would be justified in silencing
mankind.”
Progress in science, and improvements of all kinds,
are only possible in the presence of intellectual freedom.
Freedom of opinion is a necessity of progress in human
affairs, and one of the conditions of personal happiness.
“’Tis liberty alone that gives the flower
Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume ;
And we are weeds without it.”
Is it not clear, then, and as obvious as the sun at
noon, that any religion that proscribes inquiry (the desire
to know) as a crime, is antagonistic to the nature of
man; out of harmony with his highest faculties; an
obstacle to the progress of the human race?
That which is in unison with the intellectual require
ments of man, and tends to promote bis happiness, is
alone venerable, and all else will be swept away. In the
words of Sir J. Macintosh, “ it is time that men should
learn to tolerate nothing ancient that reason does not
respect, and to shrink from no novelty to which reason
may conduct.”
SECTION III.
RELIGION AND MORALITY.
I think it was Lord Chesterfield who remarked that,
after being informed as to the religion of a man, you
still inquired as to his morals, but, if you knew his morals
first, the question as to his religion would not arise. Sir
J. Macintosh refers to the common saying, that morality
depends on religion, and says that, t( in the sense in
�IN SEARCH OF A RELIGION.
9
which morality denotes sentiment, it is more exactly true
to say that religion depends on morality, and springs from
it.” Is it not obvious that any religion that is not based
on morality must be either a frivolous or a mischievous
system? Emerson, in his “ Conduct of Life,” says : “ I
look upon the simple and childish virtue of veracity and
honesty as the root of all that is sublime in character.
..... ....This reality is the foundation of friendship, reli
gion, poetry, and art?’ It was a common complaint at
one time that teachers of religion only enforced what
was termed “ mere morality.” This was urged against
the late Dr. Chalmers. In one of his references to this
question, Emerson makes the following quaint remark :
“ Mere morality ! as though one should say, Poor God,
with no one to help him !” In another place he remarks
that what is called religion is either childish and insig
nificant, or unmanly and effeminating. 11 The fatal trait
is the divorce between religion and morality.” The con
sequence of this centuries ago is pointed out by Milman,
in his “History of Christianity” (vol. iii., p. 528), in
these remarkable words ; “ No sooner had Christianity
divorced morality as its inseparable companion through
life, than it formed an unlawful connection with any
dominant passion. The union of Christian faith with
ambition, avarice, cruelty, fraud, and even license,
appeared in strong contrast with its primitive harmony
of doctrine and inward disposition.” Thus, he says,
Rome, Christian in faith and worship, became worse
than in the better times of heathenism with regard to
“ beneficence, gentleness, purity, social virtue, humanity,
and peace.” This was the reign of faith, when hell was
the most important institution, and the heretic the chief
criminal.
Lord Bacon places the simple virtues first as distin
guishing the ablest men that ever lived. “ Clear and
round dealing is the honour of man’s nature; truth is
the sovereign good of human nature.”
Sir W. Jones describes the greatest man as the best,
and the best as he that has deserved most of his fellow
creatures.
Tillotson taught that truth and sincerity, in words and
actions, would alone last and hold out to the end.
Laplace held truth and justice to be the immutable
laws of social order.
�TO
IN SEARCH OF A RELIGION.
Lord Bacon (on “ Goodness ”) takes goodness “ in
the sense which the Grecians call philanthropia ; and thé
word humanity, as it is used, is a little too light to ex
press it. This of all virtues is the greatest.”
The absence of morality or truth in society is thus
painted by Dr. Chalmers: “ The world of trade'would
henceforth break up into a state of anarchy, or rather
be paralysed into stillness. The mutual confidences be
tween man and man alone render commerce practicable.
If truth were to disappear, it would vitiate incurably every
social and domestic relationship—all the charities and
comforts would take their departure from the world.
The observation of honesty and truth is of such vital
importance that without it society would cease to keep
together.” He concludes : “ On the single transition
from vice to virtue among men does there not hinge
the alternative between a pandemonium and a para
dise?”
David Urquhart, in his “ Familiar Words,” says that re
ligion, in its Latin sense, means the binding of a man by
his faith to perform what are now called political duties.
To the Roman religion did not mean worship, but
binding faith-—of a man to do justice to the State as a
member of the community. Politics in Greek, and reli
gion in Latin, he describes as equivalent to wisdom and
justice ; politics being a knowledge of right, and reli
gion the obligation toperform it. He says there was no
religion to be worn as a vesture, nor politics as a mask.
He repudiates any religion but justice, or that does not
teach man to do his duty to his fellow man. He says :
“ It is he only who does what is just who is a Christian,
whether in his individual capacity, or as a member of a
community.”
Dr. Thomas Brown (“ Philosophy of Mind ”) says :
“We must, if we value our happiness, be careful in
determining what it is that we denominate religion, that
we may not extend its supposed duties to usages incon
sistent with our tranquillity........... When religion is truly
free from all superstition, the delights it affords are the
noblest of which our nature is capable.” In his estima
tion the qualities indicated by it are what “ constitute
whatever we love and venerate in the noblest of our
race.” He says : “ It would not be easy to estimate the
amount of positive misery which must result from the
�IN SEARCH OF A RELIGION.
II
mere contemplation of a tyrant in the heavens, and of a
creation subject to his cruelty and caprice.”
G. H. Lewes objects to Comte because he makes re
ligion simply and purely what has hitherto been desig
nated morals. Being founded on knowledge, and limited
to the relation of men to one another as social beings,
there is no room for the play of agencies foreign to
nature and the nature of man.
Sir W. Drummond held that “ to give one hour of
comfort to the frail victim of adversity, and to cheer
with one transient gleam of joy the evening of life, ought
surely to be among the pleasures, as they are among the
duties, of humanity.”
The moralist says, in the words of the pious Words
worth, I am—
L“ Well pleased to recognise,
In nature and the language of the sense,
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart and soul,
Of all my moral being.”
The Edinburgh Review once wrote : 11 If there be a
religion of nature, and we believe there is, we conclude
there can be no religion but truth, and no heresy but
falsehood.”
It seems somewhat singular that Dr. Thomas Brown
should take exception to Paley, who defines virtue as
“ doing good to mankind, in obedience to the will of
God, and for the sake of everlasting happiness.” The
latter Dr. Brown maintains to be the most important of
the whole, it being all that constitutes moral obligation.
He regards it as the most degrading of all forms of
selfishness. It is rendered more offensive by the Deity
being presented to the mind “to be courted with a
mockery of affection,” He regards the sensualist as
more worthy than the selfish of another life. He says
the difference in Paley’s case is “ in the scale of selfish
gain ; it is a greater quantity of physical enjoyment which
k' has in view.” It is a singular fact that many great
writers, in attacking each other’s views, strike at the root
of the religion they profess, and seem to be unconscious
of it. Everybody might be supposed to know that the
hope of heaven and the fear of hell are the motive
powers of Christianity. Yet Dr. Brown lashes Paley in
�12
IN SEARCH OF A RELIGION.
no unmeasured terms for maintaining the fundamental
principles of the Christian faith. His logical mind, not
being influenced at the time by the fear of God or the
Devil, could discern that the system is below the highest
form of Pagan morality—in fact, he prefers the- sensualist
in his brutal stupidity to the devout Christian who,
through fear of hell, and for the sake of everlasting
happiness, conducts himself according to the will of
God.
It is a notable fact that the words “ pure religion” occur
only once in the Christian records, and, strange to say,
it is defined without any reference to a belief in God or
a future state; but is strictly confined to moral action
between man and man. Why the word religion is in
troduced at all, and Under what circumstances, I am
unable to explain; but its meaning is expressed as
follows : “ To visit the fatherless and widows in their
affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.”
This is described by James as “pure religion and un
defiled.” Would it be too severe on all existing religions
to say that they are not the genuine article, and that
mankind are the victims of adulterated religions ?
SECTION IV.
RELIGION AND THE ORDER OF NATURE.
The basis of popular religion is God, and its interpreters
to man are the Bible and the Church. The God has
been described by Dr. Southwood Smith as “stern and
sullen, retiring in awful gloom from his creatures ; not
to be approached but with groans, not to be appeased
but by blood.” There appears in the world an extra
ordinary agent, the Son of God, assisted by angels, to
carry out the decrees of God, and also a Devil to prevent
them being carried out. By those agents the course of
�IN SEARCH OF A RELIGION.
13
nature is altered and fashioned to obtain their particular
ends. Common sense is set at defiance, and the rational
faculties are bewildered by stories of marvels and miracles.
In the early days the Christian lived in a kind of super
natural world; his dreams came direct from heaven ;
every emotion of his heart was a Divine inspiration, and
every incident in his life was a miracle. God interfered
in season and out of season, and the operations of nature
were nothing but a succession of little miracles, inter
mixed with an occasional big one.
These absurd and contradictory fictions are now chiefly
found in Catholic countries j but in a modified form
they.appear among “ our dear Dissenting brethren,” the
Revivalists, and also among the followers of the late
Mr. Joseph Smith. Fashionable people in the Church
only read St. James’s Epistle; they do not believe in it.
The pious George Combe says : “ Science has banished
the belief in the exercise by the Deity, in our day, of
special acts of supernatural power as a means of in
fluencing human affairs.” Again, he says : “ Disguise
the fact as we will, the order of nature—in other words,
God’s secular providence—is a power which in this world
shapes our destinies for weal or woe.” He says that this
position cannot be met with cries of “ Infidelity,” and
appeals to bigotry and passion, as in days gone by ; for
even Calvinists themselves proceed now on the basis of
natural science when they are sick, when wet seasons
come, and when they send a ship to sea. The orthodox
may decry science, but they enjoy its benefits. They
may call the lightning-conductor “ the heretical stake,”
but they affix one even to the spire of “ the house of
God,” which they might be expected to believe would
be protected by him—
“ Whose power o’er moving worlds presides,
Whose voice created, and whose wisdom guides.”
George Combe says he knows of no sect or church, nor
any body of religious instructors, who have recognised
“ the order of nature ” as the basis for practical precepts,
or as the road to secular virtue and prosperity. Not
one Christian nation—not one example is known since
the promulgation of Christianity. Science attempts it,
but the preachers pronounce that “godless.”
Archbishop Whately was a man of considerable mental
�14
IN SEARCH OF A RELIGION.
power. He could see that the assertion, that God sent
pestilence and famine in consequence of Romanism in
Ireland, could be used by the Catholic as an argument
against the permission of Protestantism to pollute the
sacred soil of St. Patrick. He believed in all the cases
mentioned in the Bible; but the declarations of the
“ uninspired ” men in question he denounced as “ irra
tional, uncharitable, and un-Christian.” Whately wrote
a book on logic, and might be expected to understand
that by assuming the existence of one source of power
we are compelled to trace all causes of good and evil to
that one source, which he believed to exercise supreme
influence over both Catholics and Protestants. While
the assertion of one source of power destroys the possible
existence of one source absolutely good, the alternative
is the banishment, as Combe calls it, of all interference
by the only source of power either on the side of Ca
tholics or Protestants, or against either of them. Of
course, a rational conclusion of this kind, however
logical it may be, is not the conclusion that either sect
is capable of arriving at.
There is a general conception of the order of nature
in the theological mind that it is under special personal
guidance. If water assumes a globular shape in falling,
as in the case of rain, or a tear from the human eye, it
is because some unseen and omnipotent personal power
is behind, shaping the rain and the tears. In the ad
vanced school of theological thought the movements of
nature are conceived as under law. But what are termed
“ the laws of nature ” are assumed to be under the great
law-giver and law-maker. Hence there are three sepa
rate existences—the law-maker, the law, and nature, the
ruled. AU that is really known may be described as
nature and the modes or “ methods of nature
the
latter words convey all that is meant by “ the laws of
nature.” Nature and how she acts are too simple for
the theological mind. It must have nature governed by
laws—that is, when water runs down the hill, it does so
by order of a Divine Act of Parliament, enforced by the
King of Kings, instead of by his own hand, as formerly.
These ideas are what I call fictions of the imagination,
and the only purpose they can serve, that I see, is to mag
nify the importance of the office held by persons paid
to maintain them.
�■ IN SEARCH OF A RELIGION.
15
Those who admit the existence of an invariable law
of what they call “ physical nature ” still claim an excep
tion for what they call the human soul and her affections.
It is somewhat remarkable that Dr. Priestley and Dr.
Guthrie, both preachers of the Gospel, acknowledged
the existence of mental and moral laws as well as phy
sical laws. One objection to the admission of the intel
lect or the soul to the government of an invariable order
of nature is that the soul would become necessarily the
subject of change—that is, it would live and die. This
would prevent it becoming an inhabitant of a heaven
built on pride, or a hell built on spite. There is the
same objection to the idea that the brain thinks. The
brain, being the subject of life and death, would be
necessarily limited in its operations to this life and this
globe ; in other words, the man who thinks is one and
not two beings, and is thus mortal—that is, ceases to
exist as a thinking being at death’.
The theologians whose minds are overcome by the
facts of science take refuge in miracle. They say : “ We
quite admit that man, as at present constituted, must
fall in with the invariable order of things : he must die,
but he will rise again.” Of course, this is mere assertion,
without a single fact in nature to support it. The illus
trations given by theologians from nature, including the
one found in the New Testament itself, are too inappro
priate to deserve notice. They put a grain of wheat in
the ground, and from it get a number of grains in an ear
of wheat; but by putting a man in the ground do they
secure the production of a bunch of men, or even a
single one ? The expectancy is built on miracle, and
finds no support or illustration in nature, so lar as I
■know. Of course, those who believe in the miracle of
creation out of nothing may believe in the miracle of
re-creation out of the remains of man ; but such beliefs
have no claim on the scientific mind, or on the atten
tion of the rational inquirer. An assertion made for the
purpose of giving negative support to this theory is that
all the faculties of man are not in harmony with this
present existence ; while the fact is that the more we
know of man and nature, the more clearly we see the
adaptation of all his faculties to this globe and this life
that our orbit is all our task, and sufficient to interest
and occupy millions of generations of men. The writers
�■I
j
i6
in search of a religion.
who claim the authority of miracles as a proof of the
truth of any doctrine admit that the early Apostles would
not have been believed, or even listened to, if they had
not urged that miracles had been worked. Baden
Powell, M.A., F.R.S., says : “Thus, if miracles were, in
the estimation of a former age, among the chief slipports
of Christianity, they are at present among the main diffi
culties, and are hindrances to its acceptance.”.
The inductive philosopher accepts the invariable order
of phenomena, and can only believe that which can be
demonstrated to be in harmony therewith. Testimony
cannot square the circle, or discover perpetual motion ;
it avails nothing against reason. It is alleged that the
assertion of miracles was a necessity in the beginning
in order to obtain adherents to Christianity, because of
the incredulity of the age in which the system was first
introduced. My reading is that it was an age of cre
dulity, or the miracles would not have obtained credence.
The disposition to accept anything marvellous, at the
time referred to, appears to have been very general
among all classes of men. The sceptical disposition in
matters religious was not generally manifested for 1,600
years after the promulgation of Christianity. The few
who were bold enough to Question anything were met
with the orthodox demand to give up either their liberty
or their life. After generations of experience, the Chris
tians not only persecuted their avowed enemies, but
they also imprisoned and burnt one another.. The idea
of liberty of conscience never entered their heads; it
was no part of their faith. The absurdity of the argu
ment for miracles, or an interference with the order of
nature, based on their necessity for the. conversion of .
unbelievers, is obvious, since now unbelievers multiply
and miracles diminish, heresy increases and the miracu
lous decreases. That when miracles abound believers
abound is quite true; but by the introduction of Sceptics
the miracles get a poor time, of it—they lose their importance ; and, as believers in an invariable order of
nature continue to increase., the probabilties are strongly
in favour of the total extinction of miracles.
Printed and Published by Charles Watts, 84, Fleet Street, London.
�
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Title
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In search of a religion, and notes by the way
Creator
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Cattell, Charles Cockbill
Description
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 16 p. ; 19 cm.
Notes: Stamp on front cover: The Freethought Radical Literature Depot,80, Piccadilly, Hanley. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
Publisher
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Charles Watts
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[n.d.]
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N120
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Religion
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (In search of a religion, and notes by the way), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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Text
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English
NSS
Religion
-
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33f8c8e5c4892023f84c2c5aefd1a17c
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cBishopsgate laMtitutai
JOHN STUART MILL
ON
RELIGION
AND
FREETHOUGHT.
If all mankind minus one were of one opinion, mankind would be no more
justified in silencing that one person than he, if he had the power, would be
justified in silencing mankind.—On Liberty.
All silencing of discussion is an assumption of infallibility.—On Liberty.
Who can compute what the world loses in the multitude of promising
intellects combined with timid characters, who dare not follow out any bold,
vigorous, independent train of thought, lest it should land them in something
which would admit of being considered irreligious or immoral ?.......No one
can be a great thinker who does not recognise that, as a thinker, it is his first
duty to follow his intellect to whatever conclusions it may lead.—On Liberty.
\
All Christians believe that the blessed are the poor and humble, and
those who are ill-used by the w’orld ; that it is easier for a camel to pass
through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of
heaven ; that they should judge not, lest they be judged ; that they should
swear not at all; that they should love their neighbour as themselves ; that,
if one take their cloak, they should give him their coat also; that they should\
take no thought for the morrow ; that, if they "would be perfect, they should
sell all that they have, and give it to the poor. They are not insincere when
they say that they believe all these things. They do believe them, as people
believe what they have always heard lauded, and never discussed. But, in
the sense of that living belief which regulates conduct, they believe these
doctrines just up to the point to which it is usual to act upon them............
Whenever conduct is concerned, they look round for Mr. A. and B. to direct
them how far to go in obeying Christ.—On Liberty.
It [Christian Morality] holds out the hope of heaven and the threat of
hell as the appointed and appropriate motives to a virtuous life : in this
falling far below the best of the ancients, and doing what lies in it to give to
human morality an essentially selfish character, by disconnecting each man’s
feelings of duty from the interests of his fellow-creatures, except so far as a
self-interested inducement is offered to him for consulting them. It is essen
tially a doctrine of passive obedience; it inculcates submission to all autho
rities found established............ What little recognition the idea of obligation
to the public obtains in modern morality is derived from Greek and Roman
sources ; as, even in the morality of private life, whatever exists of magnani
mity, high-mindedness, personal dignity, even the sense of honour, is derived
from the purely human, not the religious, part of our education, and never
could have grown out of a standard of ethics in which the only worth, pro
fessedly recognised, is that of obedience.—On Liberty.
(
It can do truth no service to blink the fact, known to all who have the
most ordinary acquaintance with literary history, that a large portion of the
noblest and most valuable moral teaching has been the work, not only of
men who did not know, but of men who knew and rejected, the Christian
faith.—On Liberty,
�J. s. MILL ON RELIGION AND FREETHOUGHT.
I am thus one of the very few examples, in this country, of one who has
not thrown off religious belief, but never had it : I grew up in a negative
state with regard to it.—Autobiography.
He [James Mill, his father] looked upon it [Religion] as the greatest
enemy of mankind: first by settingup fictitious excellencies—-belief in creeds,
devotional feelings, and ceremonies, not connected with the good of human
kind—and causing these to be accepted as substitutes for genuine virtues :
but, above all, by radically vitiating the standard of morals; making it
consist in doing the will of a being, on whom it lavishes indeed all the phases
of adulation, but whom in sober truth it depicts as eminently hateful. I
have a hundred times heard him say that all ages and nations have repre
sented their gods as wicked, in a constantly-increasing progression, that
mankind have gone on adding trait after trait till they reached the most
perfect conception of 'wickedness which the human mind can devise, and
have called this God, and prostrated themselves before it. This ne plus
ultra of wickedness he considered to be embodied in what is commonly
presented to mankind as the creed of Christianity.—yizz/^zT^ra/Zy'.
Not even on the most distorted and contracted theory of good which
ever was framed by religious or philosophical fanaticism can the govern
ment of Nature be made to resemble the work of a being at once good and
omnipotent.—Essays on Religion.
Belief, then, in the supernatural, great as are the services which it rendered in the early stages of human development, cannot be considered to
be any longer required, either for enabling us to know what is right and
wrong in social morality, or for supplying us with motives to do right and to
abstain from wrong.—Essays on Religion.
That because life is short we should care for nothing beyond it is not d
legitimate conclusion ; and the supposition that human beings in general are
not capable of feeling deep, and even the deepest, interest in things which
they will never live to see, is a view of human nature as false as it is abject.
Let it be remembered that, if individual life is short, the life of the human
species is not short ; its indefinite duration is practically equivalent to
endlessness ; and, being combined with indefinite capability of improvement,
it offers the imagination and sympathies a large enough object to satisfy any
reasonable demand for grandeur of aspiration. If such an object appears
small to a mind accustomed to dream of infinite and eternal beatitudes, it
will expand into far other dimensions when those baseless fancies shall have
receded into the past.—Essays on Religion.
It seems to me not only possible, but probable, that in a higher, and,
above all, a happier condition of human life, not annihilation, but immortality,
may be the burdensome idea ; and that human nature, though pleased with
the present, and by no means impatient to quit it, would find comfort, and
not sadness, in the thought that it is not chained through eternity to a con
scious existence, which i" cannot be assured that it will always wish to pre
serve.—Essays on Religion.
Published for the British Secular Union by Charles Watts, 84, Flee.
Street, London.—Price Sixpenee per hundred.
k
�
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John Stuart Mill on religion and freethought
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Mill, John Stuart [1806-1873]
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 2 p. ; 21 cm.
Notes: Brief extracts from Mill's works. Published for the British Secular Union. Stamp for Bishopsgate Institute on front page. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
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Charles Watts
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Free thought
Religion
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Free Thought
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Religion
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81409260d6011c454c026dfcac88ee6e
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JOHN WYCLIFFE THE BOLD,
OR
^efofrqef.
By
J.
R.
ELLIS.
Xonfcon:
S.
W.
PARTRIDGE
&
Co.,
9, Paternoster Rcw.
TO BE HAD OF ALB BOOKSELLERS.
�PREFACE.
This little record of the life and times of Wycliffe, justly called “ The Morning
Star of the Reformation,” may seem to some readers to be dry and uninterest
ing ; but although there is nothing in it of the poetic or the ideal, yet it should
be to every thoughtful Christian a grand thing to contemplate the life, and
teaching and death of this man of men. Looking at him in the light of what he
has, through God, accomplished for our country, surely the voice of England
ought to ring out a thanksgiving from end to end of her dominions.
We who live in these enlightened and privileged times are too apt to forget
the struggle which that liberty has cost our forefathers, and it is only by reading
the lives of these great men that we are reminded of the glorious deeds of some
of our ancestors who fought so nobly for the truth, and who suffered even to
the death for that pure and simple Gospel which, by their very life’s blood, they
have handed down to us. Let us awake to a sense of our responsibility in the
matter. We have not got to fight/or the truth in the sense which they had, but
let it be ours, by our lives and by our teaching, to shed abroad the light ot that
truth through the length and breadth of .our land, that others of our countrymen
and countrywomen who are now sitting in darkness may be brought under the
light and influence, and power of the Gospel; then shall we be remembering our
great Reformer in the way that he would best have liked, viz., by carrying on
the great work which he began, in this our day and generation.
“Faithful found
Among the faithless ; faithful only he
Among innumerable false ; unmoved,
Unbroken, unseduced, unterrified,
His loyalty he kept, his love, his zeal; .
' Nor number, nor example, with him wrought
1
To swerve from truth, or change his constant mind,
j
Though single.”
‘
J. R. ELLIS.
�JOHN WYCLIFFE THE BOLD,
OR
(England’s Sirst Reformer.
Thebe is an old and very true saying, common amongst us, that “ When night
is darkest dawn is nearest.” This seems to have been specially the case with
regard to England at, or rather just before, the time of the Reformation.
Darkness, both spiritual and moral, and degradation seems to have spread all
over the land, till it appeared as if the vice and immorality of the people, aye,,
and of priests also, could go no farther. And so the advent of John Wycliffe at
such a time seemed to be, indeed, as light springing up like the dawn of day.
John Wycliffe was born in the little village of Spresswell, not far from
Barnard Castle, in the North Riding of Yorkshire, in the year 1324. Of his
boyhood there seems to be no authentic record, but it is supposed that as
monastic schools were springing up in various parts of England at that period, hewould have been sent to one or other of these schools. At any rate, he com
menced his college life at the age of 15, when he went to Queen’s College, Oxford,
or Oxenford, as it was then called, where he entered as a student, and was soon
removed to the celebrated Merton, and aftewards he was promoted to the
presidency of Baliol, and also presented with a college living ; but in 1365 Simon
Islip, the primate, constituted him Warden of Canterbury College, which he had
then newly founded at Oxford. An equal number of regular and secular priests
having been placed as fellows in this college by the founder, after his death
disputes arose, which led to the expulsion of Wycliffe and the other three secular
members of the college in 1367. On an appeal to Rome, the measure received
the sanction of the papal court, a circumstance which naturally exasperated the
mind of the ejected warden against the pope.
In the reign of Edward II., the payment of the thousand marks annually, as
agreed to by Johu, was quietly dropped, and no remonstrance against its discon
tinuance came from Rome ; but in the year 1365, a renewal of the papal claim,
was made, and the demand accompanied by an intimation to the effect that if
the king did not pay this tribute and also all the arrears of past years he would
have to appear before his feudal superior in Rome to answer for his conduct.
During the century which had elapsed since the great Charter was signed,
England’s growth in all the elements of greatness had been marvellously rapid.
She had fused Norman and Saxon into one people; she had extended her
commerce; she had reformed her laws ; she had founded seats of learning, wh-ich
had already become renowned ; she had fought great battles and won brilliant
victories; her valour was felt and her powers feared by continental nations, and
when the summons to do homage as a vassal of the pope was received, the nation
hardly knew whether to meet it with indignation or with derision.
�4
Edward liad oftentime been obliged, in order to meet the cost of wars, to ask
Parliament to consent to increased burdens of taxation; and all the more
acceptable to him was the opportunity of giving into the hands of the represent
atives of the country the repudiation of an impost which had been in abeyance
for more than a generation. Should Parliament adopt this resolution, the crown
■was covered by the country. But the burden of taxation was not the principal
point of view from which Parliament looked at the papal demand ; much more
than that, the honour and independence of the kingdom was the determining
consideration for its representatives. The Parliament assembled for the purpose
of considering this question in May, 1366, and required a day to consider as to
the answer. Wycliffe was present on the occasion, but whether as a spectator
merely, or as a Member of Parliament, does not seem quite clear. He wrote,
however, a treatise on the question of political right in the sense of the
declaration of Parliament. The decision given was unanimous. They said:
“ Forasmuch as neither King John, nor any other king, could bring his realm
and kingdom into such thraldom and subjection but by common consent of
Parliament, the which was not given ; therefore, that which he did was against
his oath at his coronation, besides many other causes. If, therefore, the pope
should attempt anything against the king by process, or other matters in deed,
the king, with all his subjects, should, with all their force* and power, resist the
same.” Thus was England freed from the insolent demands of the pope at this
time.
Failing in his attempt to assert a papal supremacy in England, the pope
allowed the matter to rest, although his priests tried every means in their power
to grasp some of her wealth, forgetting their true mission in their strivings after
worldly gains : they infested alike the castle and the cottage, threatening the poor
with everlasting sufferings if they did not give them their hardly earned money,
and, making their way to the bedside of the rich, would offer them pardon from
sins for filthy lucre.
What a contrast was the conduct of John Wycliffe at this time ! Knowing as
he did the people were trodden down by the cruel demands of the priests, he
insisted on himself receiving almost nothing at their hands, while he denounced
the hypocrisies of the Church of Rome and preached unto the people justification
by faith ; and such a man at this eventful period was sorely needed in England, for
wars were continually breaking out with France, and while the soldiers won
splendid victories, the people willingly bore the heavy burden of taxation imposed
upon them in consequence; but when Edward the Black Prince became
incapacitated by disease from leading the soldiers, then loud and bitter com
plaints arose, people became irritable, and threatened to rebel against the
Government unless some kind of relief was afforded them. In 1341 Edward
made a fresh demand for subsidy of 50,000 marks, and it was now that the power
of Wycliffe’s true teaching was displayed. He had become by this time very
popular, so that in the hour of danger every one looked to him for counsel and
advice. He had taught the people that the Bible said that the Church had
no right to any earthly king, and the people had so far received the doctrine
that they were determined, at all hazards, to force the priests into compliance
with it. Consequently, when the king made fresh demands, in the way of issuing
new taxes, the Parliament at once proposed that the Church should pay a part of
the cost of the war out of the revenue she had received from the people. Of
course, the priests frantically opposed this, but the people firmly insisted upon
the proposition being carried into effect, and gained the day. Also the Parlia
ment at this time proposed to the king to remove the prelates from all secular
positions which they might hold, and put laymen in their places. This proposi
tion was adopted by the king, and two or three of the bishops were succeeded by
laymen in their secular offices, according to the voice of the country. In a little
time however, the evil broke out again with greater violence. In 1373, the aged
king’listened again to the demands of the people, and sent a deputation to the
pope • but his holiness did not return a satisfactory reply. Parliament again
took ’up the scandal, and sternly demanded redress. A second embassy was
appointed consisting of seven men, the second of whom was John Wycliffe.
The papal court was at Avignon, but the City of Bruges was selected for the
�5
negotiations. Bruges was, at that time, a city of great importance, numbering
200,000 inhabitants, and with commercial and political relations extending far
and wide.
•
Wycliffe must, from his prominent position, have come into contact with
many eminent men, who were there also. Amongst these was the king’s fourth
son, John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, who already knew and appreciated the
high qualities of Wycliffe. The terms of peace agreed upon between the king
and the pope did not reach any of the real evils complained of by the country,
and in April, 1376, when the Parliament met, it spoke with the voice of the
people when it put before the king the grievances under which they suffered,
through the arbritary conduct of the Roman See, and showed to him what great
need there was for reform in the land. The old king, however, was drawing
near his end, and possibly frightened too by his priestly advisers, rendered the
Parliament no help in the matter. The next year they renewed their complaint,
and now the power of Wycliffe’s influence over them once again came into full
play. He had, by his upright and generous conduct, inspired the people with
full confidence, and they seemed only too ready to follow where he led. No
wonder that the wrath of the priests now began to turn upon Wycliffe. He had
denounced them as hypocrites, and stirred up the indignation of the people
against them. In return they sought to bring false witnesses against him and
bring his deeds to nought, but the Hand of the Lord, whose he was and whom
he served, was with him ; and he was still preserved to do good in old England.
In 1377 Edward III. died, and was succeeded by his grandson, Richard II. The
country was still involved in war, the expense of which, together with a want of
economy in the administration, had entirely exhausted the royal treasury, and in
the same proportion ruffled the public temper, that the murmurs of the people
became deeper and more emphatic. All parties felt that something must be done
to relieve the country in its extremity, and, at the same time, to repress the
rising of popular discontent. The source of the evil was traced to the luxury,
extravagance and malpractices of the hierarchy. The pope was held guilty of
enriching himself by the reversion of benefices; of accepting bribes for the
promotion of unlearned and unworthy men to the cure of souls, who never saw or
cared to see the flocks; of levying a subsidy from the whole English clergy for
the ransom of Frenchmen as the avowed enemies of the king; of making a gain
by the translation of bishops and other dignitaries within the realm; and of
appropriating to himself the first-fruits of all benefices. Lay patrons, taking
advantage of the simony and covetousness of the pope, were accused of selling
their benefices. The pope’s collector and receiver of his pence not only kept a
house in London with clubs and offices thereunto belonging, as if it had been one
of the king’s solemn courts, but annually transported to the papal see twenty or
more thousand marks. Cardinals and others retained at the court of Rome were
raised to the highest offices and dignities within the realm. On these grounds,
it was represented to Parliament that it would be good to renew all statutes
against provisors from Rome, since the pope reserved all the benefices of the
world for his own proper gift, and had, within one single year, created twelve
new cardinals, thus raising the number to thirty; while all of them, with two or
three exceptions, were the known enemies of the king. It was further suggested
that the provisors of the pope should be most strenuously resisted, and that no
papal collector or proctor should remain in England upon peril of life and limb,
and that no Englishman on the like pains should become such coRector or
proctor, or remain at the court of Rome.
After Wycliffe’s return from Bruges, he was presented by the king to the
living of Lutterworth, in Leicestershire. From this pulpit he began to preach
the glorious Gospel, and to strike the keynote of the Reformation. That pulpit,
which is composed of richly carved oak, still remains in a high state of preserva
tion. Twice during the year 1377 was Wycliffe summoned as a heretic—the first
time before Convocation at St. Paul’s Cathedral. The history of the Reformation
thus describes it: “ On the 19th February, 1377, an immense crowd, heated with
fanaticism, thronged the approaches to the church and filled its aisles, while the
citizens favourable to the reform remained concealed in their houses. Wycliffe
moved forward, preceded by Lord Percy, Marshal of England, and supported b
�the Duke of Lancaster, who defended him from purely political motives. He
was followed by four bachelors of divinity, his counsel, and passed through the
hostile multitude, who looked upon Lancaster as the enemy of their liberties, and
upon himself as the enemy of the church. ‘ Let not the sight of these
bishops make you shrink a hair’s breadth in your profession of faith, ’ said the
prince to the doctor, ‘they are unlearned; and as for this concourse of people,
fear nothing. We are here to defend you.’ When the reformer had crossed the
threshold of the Cathedral the crowd within appeared like a solid wall; and
notwithstanding the efforts of the Earl Marshal, Wycliffe and Lancaster could
not advance. The people swayed to and fro, hands were raised in violence, and
loud hootings re-echoed from the building.
“At length Percy made an opening in the dense multitude, and Wycliffe
passed on.”
The haughty Courtney, who had been commissioned by the Archbishop to
preside over the assembly, watched these strange movements with anxiety, and
beheld with displeasure the learned doctor accompanied by the two most powerful
men in England.
He said nothing to the Duke of Lancaster, who at that time administered
the kingdom, but turning towards Percy, observed sharply, “ If I had known,
my lord, that you claimed to be master in this church I would have taken
measures to prevent your entrance.”
Lancaster coldly rejoined, “ He shall keep such mastery here though you
say Nay.” Percy now turned to Wycliffe, who had remained standing, and
said, “Sit down and rest yourself.” At this Courtney gave way to his anger,
and exclaimed in a loud tone, ‘ ‘ He must not sit down; criminals stand before
their judges.” Lancaster, indignant that a learned doctor of England should
be refused a favour to which his age alone entitled him (for he was between
fifty and sixty) made answer to the Bishop, “My lord, you are very arrogant;
take care, or I may bring down your pride, and not yours only, but that of
all the prelacy of England.” “Do me all the harm you can,” was Courtney’s
haughty reply. The Prince rejoined with some emotion: “You are insolent, my
lord; you think, no doubt, you can trust on your family; but your relations will
have trouble enough to protect themselves.’ ’ To this the Bishop nobly replied,
“ My confidence is not in my parents, or in any man, but only in God, in whom
I trust, and by whose assistance I will be bold to speak the truth.” Lancaster,
who saw only hypocrisy in these words, turned to one of his attendants, and
whispered in his ear, but so loud as to be heard by the bystanders, “ I would
pluck the Bishop by the hair of his head out of his chair than take this at his
hands.” Lancaster had hardly uttered these words before the Bishop’s partisans
fell upon him and Percy, and even upon Wycliffe, who alone had remained calm.
The two noblemen resisted ; their friends and servants defended them. The
uproar became extreme, and there was no hope of restoring tranquility. The
two lords escaped with difficulty, and the vast assembly broke up in great
confusion. On the following day, the Earl Marshal having called upon Parlia
ment to apprehend the disturbers of the public peace, the clerical party, uniting
with the enemies of Lancaster, filled the streets with their clamour ; and while
the Duke and the Earl escaped by the Thames, the mob collected before Percy’s
house, broke down the doors, searched every chamber, and thrust their swords
into every dark corner. When they found that he had escaped, the rioters,
imagining that he was concealed in Lancaster’s palace, rushed to the Savoy, at
that time the most magnificent building in the kingdom. They killed a priest
who endeavoured to stay them, tore dowm the ducal arms, and hung them on the
gallows like those of a traitor. They would have gone still further if the
Bishop had not very opportunely reminded them that they were in Lent. As
for Wycliffe he was dismissed with an injunction against preaching his doctrines.
But this decision of the priests was not ratified by the people of England.
Public opinion declared in favour of Wycliffe. If he is guilty, said they, why is
he not punished ? If he is innocent, why is he ordered to be silent ? If he is
the weakest in power he is the strongest in truth !
The hostility of the prelates continued, but his political friends were far
stronger than his enemies; they therefore resolved that they would appeal to the
�L utterworth
Church .
�8
pope and see what could be done by the highest spiritual authority. Some have
thought that the chief movers in this matter were the mendicant monks, but
•history seems to prove that it rested altogether with the English bishops, who
collected a number of propositions which the Reformers had propounded either
in published writings or in lectures or disputes. They were nineteen in number,
coming under three heads. 1st. Concerning the rights of property and inherit
ance ; 2nd. Concerning Church property and its lawful secularisation; and
3rd. Concerning the power of Church discipline and its necessary limits. These
were all condemned, and no less than five Bulls were issued against Wycliffe in
one day. These Bulls, however, were not made public until some months after
their issue, in consequence of the illness and death of Edward III. Afterwards
such a policy of antagonism to Rome was expressed by the members of Parlia
ment who assembled under the new king, Richard II., that the enemies of Wyclifie
thought it would be more favourable to their cause to postpone all their measures
against him until after the prorogation of Parliament. The subject which was
chiefly being discussed by this assembly cannot be better shown than by an
extract of Wycliffe’s own opinion, drawn up at this time for the benefit of the
young, “Christ, the head of the Church, whose example should be followed
by all Christian priests, lived upon the alms of devout women. He hun
gered, thirsted, was a stranger, and suffered in many ways, not only in His
members but in Himself. As the Apostle testifies, ‘ He was made poor for your
sakes, that ye through His poverty might be enriched.’ Accordingly, when theChurch was first endowed, whoever among the clergy were then holders of any
temporal possessions held the same in the form of perpetual alms. This is evident
from histories and other sources; hence, St. Bernard, in his second book to the
Pope Eugenius, declares that no secular dominion could be challenged by him
on the ground of his office as the Vicar of St. Peter, and writes thus: ‘ It may
indeed be claimed by you, in virtue of some other plea, but assuredly by no right
or title derived from the Apostles; for how could an Apostle give unto you
that which he did not himself possess ? That care over the Church which he
really had, he gave you ; but when did he give you any worldly rule or lordship ?
Observe what he saith: “Not bearing rule as lords over God’s heritage, but
yielding yourselves as examples to the flesh.” And that ye may not think these
words spoken in a show of humility, and not in truth, mark the words of our Lord.
Himself in the Gospel : ‘ The kings of the nations have lordship over them,
but it shall not be so with you.’ Here lordly dominion is plainly forbidden to
the Apostles ; and wilt thou venture to usurp the same ? If a lord, then apostle
ship is lost; if an Apostle, thy lordship is no more ; for certainly the one or the
other must be relinquished. If both are sought, both must be lost. Or should’st
thou succeed, then judge thyself to be of that number respecting whom God so
greatly complains, saying, “They have reigned, but not through Me ; they have
become princes, but I have not known them.” “He who is greatest among you
shall be made as the least, and he who is the highest shall be your minister.’’ And
to illustrate this saying He set a child in the midst of His disciples. This, then,
is the true form and institution of Apostolic calling—lordship and rule are for
bidden; ministration and service are commended.’
“ From the words of a blessed man, whom the whole Church hath agreed tohonour, it appears that the pope hath no right to possess himself of the goods of
the Church, as though lie were lord over them, but that he is to be with respect
to them as a minister or a servant and a proctor for the poor. And would to
God that the same proud and eager desire of authority and lordship which is
now discovered by this seat of poiver were aught else than a declension, pre
paring the pathway of Antichrist! ’’
The following year the Reformer appeared before the pope’s commissioners
at the Archbishop’s palace at Lambeth. This time he had to present himself
alone, for the Duke of Lancaster, who had before appeared as his defender, was
no longer in a position to do so, and was therefore absent. Wycliffe bravely
defended himself, and was supported by the people on the one hand, who
created much disturbance during the time of the trial, and by Royalty on the
other, so that, altogether, the commissioners were powerless to proceed, and
just to save appearances they issued a prohibition against any future teaching,
either by lectures or sermons.
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Soon after this trial at Lambeth Palace, the enemies of Wycliffe themselves
furnished him with a powerful weapon with which to effect their downfall. The
deep corruption which existed in every part of the Romish Church could not
but force itself upon Wycliffe’s notice, and to contrast itself with the pure life
and teaching of Jesus and His Apostles. He soon decided that the Christian
Church, as it was still called, possessed a name to live, while it was in reality
dead; and the light which had gone out from it must by some means be re
kindled, as it soon was by the Reformer and his followers. The death of pope
Gregory, on March 27th, 1378, proved to be the beginning of great dissensions
in the Church, as the newly-elected pope, who took the title of Urban VI.,
disappointed the cardinals; being a man of firmness and stability of character
he soon shewed them that he would never be the mere instrument of their
pleasure’. At the end of July the cardinals met and declared the election of
Urban to have been illegal, whereupon they called upon him to renounce his
papal dignitaries, and proceeded to elect another pope, the Bishop of Cambray,
who took the title of Clement VII. Thus the Church was completely divided;
the English Church continued to adhere to Urban VI., on whose side Wycliffe’s
sympathies were at first centred; but he soon found so much in both to cal)
forth his condemnation, that he publicly declared them both to be false popes,
for, said he, ‘ ‘ They have nothing to do with the Church, as is plainly seen by
their actions; they are apostates and limbs of the devil, instead of being
members of the body of Christ.” As Wycliffe saw the growing corruption and
dissension in the false Church he set himself more strenuously to study the
doctrines of Holy Scripture, so that he might be able to proclaim the old, old
story to thirsty souls all over the land. Not only did he preach and teach in all
places himself, but he organised a band of itinerant preachers, men, who like
Wesley, were noted for the zeal of their cause, and for the purity of their lives;
and these men carried the truth from village to village, preaching either in a
building or by the wayside. They urged the people to live in the peace that
becometh the Gospel; they condemned the vice and hypocrisy of the priesthood,
and warned the people to avoid all intercourse with them. Of course, they soon
encountered the fierce hostility of the Church, who spread all sorts of slanders
about them, but in spite of all, this great mission started by Wycliffe flourished and
spread throughout the laud. This is a specimen of one of the great Reformer’s
own sermons, preached at Lutterworth parish church on a Christmas Day:—
“ On this day we may affirm that a child is bom to us, since Jesus according to
our belief, was this day born. Both in figure and in letter God spake of old to
this intent, that to us a child should be born, in whom we should have joy.
From this speech of Isaiah three short lessons should be delivered, that men may
rejoice in the after services of this child:—First: We hold it as part of our faith
that as our first parents had sinned, there must be atonement made for it
according to the righteousness of God. For as God is merciful, so He is full of
righteousness. But except He keep His righteousness on this point, how may He
judge all the world ? There is no sin done but what is against God, but this sin
was done directly against the Lord Almighty and all rightful. The greater also
the Lord is against whom whom any sin is done, the greater always is the sin—
just as to do against the king’s bidding is deemed the greatest of offences. But
the sin which is done against God’s bidding is greater without measure. God
then, according to our belief, bid Adam that he should not eat of the apple, yet
he broke God’s command. Nor was he excused therein by his own weakness,
by Eve, nor by the serpent. Hence, according to the righteousness of God,
this sin must be alway punished. It is to speak lightly to say that God might
of His own power forgive the sin, without the atonement that was made for it,
since the j ustice of God would not suffer this, which requires that every trespass
be punished either in earth or in hell. God may not accept a person to forgive
him his sin without an atonement, else He must give free license to sin both in
angels and men, and then sin were no sin, and our God were no god ! Such is
the first lesson we take as part of our faith. The second is that the person who
may make atonement for the sin of our first father must needs be God and man.
For as man’s nature trespassed, so must man’s nature render atonement. An
angel, therefore, would attempt in vain to make atonement for man, for he has
not the power to do it, nor was his the nature that here sinned. Since all men
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form one person, if any member of this person maketh atonement, the whole
person maketh it. But we may see that if God made a mhn of nought or strictly
anew, after the manner of Adam, yet he were bound to God after the extent
of his power for himself, having nothing wherewith to make atonement for his
own or Adam’s sin. Since then atonement must be made for the sin of Adam, as
we have shewn, the person to make the atonement must be God and man, for
then the worthiness of this person’s deeds, were even with the unworthiness of
the sin! ’ ’
One of the chief doctrines which Wycliffe attacked was that of transubstantiation, a doctrine which makes every priest a miracle worker; he proclaimed it to be
unscriptural both in the pulpit and in the lecture room, and also he wrote twelve
short “ theses,” in which he set forth the ground of his disbelief. This created
a considerable sensation, not only amongst the prelates, but also amongst the
students at Oxford, to whom he was then lecturing. A conference was called,
whose voice was unanimous that the opinions of Wycliffe were erroneous, and a
decree was issued prohibiting them from being taught. When the mandate
reached the Reformer, with its sentence of condemnation, he said to the
messengers: “ But you ought first to have shown me that I am in error.” He
also told them, that no one on earth could alter his convictions, and that he
should appeal to the king and his parliament. Lancaster immediately became
alarmed, and, hastening to his old friend, begged him, ordered him even, to
trouble himself no more about this matter. Attacked on every side, Wycliffe,
for a time, remained silent. Shall he sacrfiice the truth to save his reputation—
his repose—perhaps his life? Shall expediency get the better of faith—
Lancaster prevail over Wycliffe? No; his courage was invincible. Although
he was compelled to keep from preaching, he yet made good use of his pen on
this subject. About this time he wrote a very popular tract, entitled “The
Wicket.” The following is an extract from it: “ Christ hath revealed to us that
there are two ways—one leading to life, the other leading to death; the former
narrow, the latter broad. Let us, therefore, pray to God to strengthen us, by His
grace, in the spiritual life, that we may enter in through the straight gate, and
that He would defend us, in the hour of temptation. Temptation to depart from
God and fall into idolatry is already present, when men declare it to be heresy
to speak the Word of God to the people in English, and when they would press
upon us, instead of this, a false law, and a false faith—viz., a faith in the
consecrated host. This is of all faiths the falsest.
“ Since the year of our Lord 1000, all the doctorshave been in error about the
sacrament of the altar except, perhaps, it may be Berengarius. How canst thou,
O priest, who art but a man, make thy Maker ? What—the thing that groweth
in the fields; that ear which thou pluckest to-day shall be gods to morrow! . . .
As you cannot make the works which He made, how shall ye make Him who
made the works ? Woe to the adulterous generation that believeththe testimony
of Innocent rather than that of the Gospel!”
In 1381 an insurrection broke out amongst the peasants of the country,
headed by Wat Tyler. Goaded by the excessive taxation, and tried by the
severity of the tax-collectors, mobs gathered in the beginning of June and
marched up to London, where they killed all the magistrates, lawyers, and
jurymen that they could lay hands upon; destroyed many valuable documents,
and burnt the splendid palace of the Duke of Lancaster in the Savoy to ashes,
and they seized the Primate and several other officers of state, and condemned
them to be executed as traitors. The poor king was so stricken, that he seemed
at first powerless to resist them, till at last the brave mayor of London, William
Walworth, of Smithfield, laid hold of Tyler just when he was approaching the
king, and sent him off to prison, whereupon some of the king’s knights took
him and killed him. From that time courage seemed to rise in the hearts
of the soldiers, and in a short time quiet was again restored throughout the land.
This insurrection was laid to poor Wycliffe’s charge ; but, of course, it is not
at all likely that he had anything to do with it, for the Duke of Lancaster, against
whom the mob was so bitter, was his chief friend; and, besides, they had
determined to destroy all the priests in the land, excepting the “ mendicant” or
‘ ‘ begging friars, ’ ’ against whom Wycliffe was most severe. Inl380Wy cliffe pub lished his tract, entitled “ Objections to Friars,” wherein he charges them with
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heresy and error. The course of his argument run thus: ‘ ‘ There cometh no pardon
but of God. The worst abuses of these friars consist in their pretended confessions,
by means of which they affect, with numberless artifices of blasphemy, to purify
those whom they confess, and make them clean from all pollution in the
eyes of God; setting aside the commandments and satisfaction of our Lord
There is no greater heresy than for a man to believe that he is absolved
from his sins, if he give money, or if a priest lay his hands on his head and
say that he absolveth thee ; for thou must be sorrowful in thy heart and make
amends to God, else God absolveth thee not. Many think if they give a penny
to a pardonner they shall be forgiven the breaking of all the commandments of
God, and therefore they take no heed how they keep them. But I say this for
certain: though thou have priests and friars to sing for thee, and though thou each
day hear many masses, and found churches and colleges, and go on pilgrimages all
thy life, and give all thy goods to pardonners, this will not bring thy soul to heaven.
May God of His endless mercy destroy the pride, covetuousness, hypocrisy and
heresy of this famed pardoning, and make men busy to keep TTis commandments
and set fully thy trust in Jesus Christ.
“The friars being cause, beginning, and maintaining of perturbation in
Christendom, and of all evil in this world, these errors shall never be amended,
till friars be brought to freedom of the Gospel and clean religion of Jesus
Christ.”
Wycliffe’s opposition to the friars increased with increasing years, and great
was their joy when in the year 1379 he fell dangerously ill. The four regents
who represented the four religious orders, accompanied by four Aidermen,
visited him. They said “ You have death on your lips, be touched by your faults
and retract in our presence all that you have said to our injury.”
Begging his servant to raise him on his couch, and turning towards the
friars, he opened his livid lips and fixed on them a piercing look, saying with
emphasis, ‘ ‘ I shall not die, but live, and again declare the evil deeds of the
friars.”
It seemed to be rather an unfortunate thing for Wycliffe that immediately
after the insurrection of Wat Tyler and his followers, Courtney was made
primate in the room of Sudbury, who had been beheaded in the tower by the
mob. Courtney was one of Wycliffe’s worst enemies, having before instituted
proceedings against him. Since that time, however, the influence of the
Reformer had spread and strengthened, and he had become bolder to resist
the persecution of his enemies. The primate believed that Wycliffe had
been in some way concerned in the insurrection, he therefore considered
it to be his duty to summon him to answer for his doctrine, with a view
of condemning the same. He therefore convened an assembly of men who
were known to be faithful to the pope, to examine these doctrines, and pronounce
judgment. The meeting was held in the Hall of the Dominican Monastery at
Blackfriars, in May, 1382. Just as it had commenced there was a dreadful earth
quake, which shook the foundations of the City of London, and at which the
people were so frightened that they wished at once to dismiss the charge, but
Courtney declared that it was but the favour of God upon their proceedings.
There is not much recorded of the transactions of this Conference, but it is stated
that one of the Archbishop’s officers read ten propositions, said to be Wycliffe’s,
but ascribing to him certain errors of which he was quite innocent. It was
now determined that if all Mho held heretical opinions did not recant they
should be crushed by the law. The Chancellor of the kingdom represented to the
House of Lords that it was a well-known fact that different ill-disposed persons
were going through the realm, from county to county and town to town, in a
well-known dress, and under the aspect of great holiness, even preaching from
day to day without authority from the proper ordinary, or credentials from any
other quarter, not only in churches and churchyards, but also in market places
and other public thoroughfares, where much people were wont to resort.
Their sermons were full of heresies and manifold errors, to the great injury
of the Church and the faith, and to the great spiritual peril of the people and of
the whole realm. “ These men preach also things of a calumnious kind in order
to sow strife and division between different classes, both spiritual and secular,
and they influence the minds of the people to the great danger of the whole
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t
kingdom. If these preachers are summoned by the bishops for examination,
they pay no regard to their commands, do not trouble themselves in the least
about their admonitions and the censures of the Holy Church, but rather testify
their undisguised contempt for them. They know besides how to draw the
people by their fine words to listen to their sermons, and they hold them fast in
their errors by a strong hand, and by means of imposing crowds.” It was, there
fore, he urged, indisputably necessary that the State should lend the assistanceof its own to bring to punishment these itinerant preachers as a common danger
to the country. The Lords consented to the motion. Not so, however, the
Commons. Indeed, it is supposed that it was never introduced to them. Yet,
although without the consent of the Commons it could not become law, it was
placed on the statute-book in May, 1382. Wycliffe had eyes sharp enough to
detect this irregularity, and so in the same month he addressed a memorial to
the Commons defending his teaching. The result was that the Commons pleaded
with the king to annul the statute, and he granted tlieir request. Courtney was
so enraged at this proceeding that he summoned Wycliffe once again to appear
at Oxford. Forty years ago the Reformer had come up to the University. Oxford
had become his home, and now it was turning against him! Weakened by labours,
by trials, by that ardent soul which preyed upon his feeble body, he might have
refused to appear. But Wycliffe, who never feared the face of man, came before
his enemies with a good conscience. We may conjecture that there were amongst
the crowd some disciples who felt their hearts burn at the sight of their master
and his persecution ; but no outward sign indicated their emotion. The solemn
silence of a court of justice had succeeded the shouts of enthusiastic youths.
Yet Wyclife did not despair. He raised his venerable head and turned to
Courtney with that confident look which had made the regents of Oxford to
shrink away. Growing wroth against the priests of Baal, he reproached them
with disseminating error in order to sell their masses. Then he stopped and
uttered these simple but energetic words: “ The truth shall prevail! ” Havingthus spoken he prepared to leave the court. His enemies dared not say a word,
and, like his Divine Master at Nazareth, he passed through the midst of them,
and no man ventured to stop him.
The prelate, even after this, continued to complain to the king; and
Richard, alarmed somewhat by the representations made to him, gave full power
to the primate to imprison all who preached the condemned doctrine, and not to
release them till they recanted and gave full proof of repentance. So earnest
and zealous were the bishops in their endeavours to extirpate the followers of
' Wycliffe that iu less than six months there was not one voice in his favour to be
heard in Oxford; but in spite of the desertion of his friends the Reformer
stood firm.
For two years previous to his death Wycliffe enjoyed something like repose,
while labouring as pastor in Lutterworth village. His health, however, failed so
much (having been seized by a paralytic stroke from which he only partially
recovered) that he was obliged to engage an assistant, named John Horn. He
also secured the services of a faithful attendant in the person of John Puvey, who
was to him a real bosom friend, and helped him considerably in the translation
of the Bible.
It may also be assured, with some degree of probability, that duringthese years, the preaching itinerancy, although menaced by the measures of the
bishops, was still carried on, though in diminished proportions and with some
degree of caution; and so long as Wycliffe lived, Lutterworth continued to be
the centre of this evangelical mission. But the narrower the limits became
within which the itinerancy could be worked, the more zealously did Wycliffe
apply himself to the task of instructing the people by means of short and simple
trac ts in the English tongue. The largest number of the tracts which have come
down to us belong to this period, and of these there are at least fifty.
Setting aside translations of portions of Scripture, these tracts may be
divided into two chief groups ; the one consists of explanation of single heads of
catechism ; the other, discussions of the doctrines of the Church. The latter, for
the most part, have a polemical character, while the former are of a more positive
form, didactic and edifying. Some treat of the ten commandments ; of works ofv
mercy; of the seven mortal sins; several discuss the duties belonging to the
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different stations and relations of life, while other treats of prayer, and explain the
Paternoster and Ave Maria. There are also tracts on the Lord’s Supper and
the confession and absolution. Some defend the itinerant preachers, others set
forth the function of preaching, the nature of pastoral work, and the life and
conversation which should characterise the priesthood.
There can be little doubt that although these last years were spent almost
without interruption, the wrath of his enemies still raged, and they still longed to
devise him some hurt. It has been said by some that about this time pope Urban
summoned him to Rome to answer for his heresies, and he openly refused so to
do; but there seems no foundation whatever for the statement, and one of
Wycliffe’s latest biographers says: “ This alleged citation to Rome must be rele
gated to the category of groundless tradition.” Two years subsequently to the
paralytic stroke before mentioned, on the 28th December, 1384, he received a
second one, from which he never rallied; in fact he never spoke again, but died
on the following Saturday.
The speech of one of his enemies after his death proves to us very forcibly
that their wrath against him was as warm as ever. It was this: “On the Feast
of St. Thomas of Canterbury, John Wycliffe—that organ of the devil; that
•enemy of the Church; that author of confusion to the common people ; that idol
of heretics ; that image of hypocrites; that restorer of schism; that storehouse of
Res; that sink of flattery—being smitten by the horrible judgment of God,was
struck with palsy, and continued to live in that condition until Saint Sylvester’s
day, on which he breathed out his malicious spirit into the abodes of darkness.”
Also in 1415, more than thirty years after his death, the Council of Constance
issued a decree. “ His body and bones, if they might be discovered, and known
■from the bodies of other faithful people, should be taken from the ground and
thrown away from the burial of any church, according to the canon laws and
decrees. Thirteen years after this order his body was ruthlessly disinterred, the
bones burnt, and then the ashes cast away into the river. 0 Christian England,
what a blot upon thy name and memory !
The preaching of Wycliffe deserves a word of thoughtful commendation.
Seeing as he did how the preaching friars deceived the people and misled them
on the most momentous of all subjects, he endeavoured yet the more earnestly
to expound to them the truth as it is revealed. Those of his sermons which have
been preserved are either in Latin or English. It is evident from th^style and
substance of the teaching contained in them, that the Latin discourses were
preached in the University. His English sermons are very remarkable ; free from
anything like set phraseology, they are clear and plain, yet withal fresh and
vitalising in their power. Many of them no doubt were preached at Lutterworth,
and many to the crowds of common people elsewhere, who assembled to hear
him whenever ■rportunity occurred. His preaching was eminently scriptural;
he endeavoured rnshow the harmony of different parts of scripture, while com
paring one part with another; and yet he did not fail toj^eat upon the wrongs
of the age, which were immediately connected with the religion in his day.
Some have complained that in his sermons he does not make the Gospel of the
atonement sufficiently plain, but we must remember that he had not the
advantages of the light that our modern preachers possess, but was, as it were,
just groping his way out of the darkness. His powers of illustration were great,
and he often showed a vein of humour, or even of sarcasm, in his pulpit teaching,
as when speaking of the begging friars he says: “They are like the tortoises,
which quickly find their way, one close after the other, through the whole
country. They penetrate every house into the most secret chambers like the
lapdogs of women of rank.” His preaching must have exerted a very powerful
influence everywhere; he preached occasionally in London, besides his regular
ministrations at Lutterworth, Oxford, and elsewhere. He shines not only as a
preacher, but as a pastor; he was a man of deep sympathy, and was ever found
when needed in the humblest cottage or the house of mourning, and proclaiming
alike to the prince and the peasant, the living and the dying, that which he had
taught from the pulpit. Speaking from “ The seed is the word of God,” he says
■“ 0 marvellous power of the Divine seed, which overpowers strong men, softens
hard hearts, and renews and changes into divine, men who had been brutalised
• by sins, and had departed from God! Such a change as this could never be
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•wrought by the word of the priest, if the Spirit of Life, and the Eternal Word
did not above all things else work with it.”
With the love and the power of preaching so deeply imbued within him, he
not only preached himself but he also sent forth other preachers—“poor
priests,’’ or, as we should call them in our day, “evangelists,” whose sole
business it was to go up and down over the country proclaiming the glad tidings
of salvation wherever and whenever they could gain an audience. Doctor Robert
Vaughan thus describes them : “ These ‘ poor priests,’ these sturdy, free-spoken
and popular Methodists of the fourteenth century, are here travelling before us,
from county to county, from town to town, and from village to village, bare
footed, staff in hand, the visible personation of the toilsome, the generous, the
noblehearted.” In churches or churchyards, in markets or fairs, before gentle or
simple, pious or profligate—wherever men or women are gathered together, or
may be gathered, there the itinerant instructor of this school finds his preaching
place, and discourses boldly on the difference between the religion of the Bible,
with its appeal to every man’s reason and conscience, and the superstitions of
the priests, which have nothing to sustain them, save that hollow mockery called
the supersition of the Church. Prelates and abbots, mendicants and monks,
rectors and curates, became wrathful; but the people are not wrathful. Almost
to a man they attest that the stranger is in the right, and that harm shall not
be done to him. Knighton mentions a number of persons of some figure who
openly favoured the new preachers; such as Sir Thomas Latimer, Sir John Perke,
Sir Richard Story, and Sir John Hilton. It was the manner of these distin
guished persons, as the historian informs us, when a preacher of the Wycliffe
order came into their neighbourhood, to give notice to all their neighbours of
time and place, and to draw a vast audience together. Even beyond this did
they proceed; for you might see them standing round the pulpit of the preacher
armed and prepared to defend him from assault with their good swords if it should
be needed. Knighton, who complains of their mode of proceeding as being rather
Mahomedan than Christian in its spirit, is nevertheless obliged to give these
Lollard or Puritan knights the credit of being governed by a “zeal for God, but
not according to knowledge. The advent of the preacher is the signal for the
interference of the magistrate, and an officer is sent to warn him of his danger
and order him to depart. The local official, not daring to go further, serves his
writ upon the disorderly stranger, requiring him to appear before his ordinary;
but the stranger is speedily elsewhere, and at his wonted labour.
“Proud churchmen thunder their anathemas against him; to him it is an
empty sound. The soul under that coarse garb, and which plays from beneath
that weather-worn countenance, is an emancipated soul; not so much the image
of the age in which we find it, as the prophecy of an age to come ; to come only
after a long, a dark, and a troubled interval shall have passed away.”
Wycliffe entertained the idea that nothing ought to come between the people
and the Word of God; he therefore undertook the grand work of translating the
whole of the Bible into the English tongue, first the New Testament and subse
quently the Old also. ‘ ‘ The interest taken in the man and in his work enlisted a
hundred expert hands, who, though they toiled to multiply copies, could scarcely
supply the many who were eager to buy. Some ordered complete copies to be
made for them, others were content with portions; the same copies served several
families in many instances, and in a very short time Wycliffe’s English Bible
had obtained a wide circulation, and brought a new life into many an English
home.” The following is a specimen of Wyclifie’s Bible in old English:—
“ Biholde ye the foulis of the eir, for thei sowen not nether ripen, nether
gaderen into bemes: and your Fadir of hevene fedith hem, wher ye ben not
more worthi thanne thei ? but who of you thenking mai putte to hys stature o
cubit ? and of clothinge whar ben ye bisie ? biholde ye the lilies of the feld how
thei wexen, thei travelen not, nether spynnen, and I seye to you that Salomon in
al his glorie was not kenerid as one of thes, and if God clothith thus the heye
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�The Worship of Humanity.
349
origin of their union. None can be more alive than ourselves to
the vast amount of misery which theological beliefs have inflicted
on mankind, but the wars which they have originated, and the
frightful tortures and cold-blooded murders which they have
prompted and sanctioned, were not due to the existence of these
beliefs simply as such, but to the egotism of their expounders, who,
not distinguishing between the spheres of knowledge and specula
tion, between truth and opinions, delivered their own dicta as
infallible.
M. Comte claims for the worship of Humanity the superiority
of reality, and affirms that the creed of the Theist is mere an
thropomorphism, and that he is but the worshipper of his own
ideas. We accept the statement, but not the conclusion in
tended to. be conveyed in it. The Positivist worships human
beings as he knows them either in life or in history ; or, he wor
ships them after subtracting their faults and weaknesses, and
idealizing their virtues. In the one case his worship, being of
frail creatures like himself, can neither prompt him to noble
deeds nor exert a hallowing influence on his life ; in the other,
his claim for the superiority of reality is annulled; while,
however, he may idealize his objects, they must ever remain
associated with the limitations of humanity, and consequently
he is not only a worshipper of his own ideas, but of his own ideas
after they are shorn of those majestic proportions which, if
unrestrained, they would instinctively and unconsciously assume,
while aspiring to realize even the feeblest conception of the
SouYce of all being.
Since the mysterious and incomprehensible perfection of the
Divine attributes transcends the possible perfection of humanity
as immeasurably as the infinite exceeds the finite, there is a
sphere for endless progress in our contemplations and concep
tions of those attributes, and for the consequent reaction of those
conceptions, which, in the sphere of morals, are at once the
power which moulds, the spirit which inspires, and we hope
and believe will become more and more the influence which
hallows both our personal and national existence. Here we see
the imperative reason for giving the largest scope and most
unrestrained activity to our intellectual faculties when aspiring
to conceive of the Divine Nature—appending only one condition,
viz., an abiding consciousness and recognition of the barrier
which divides the regions of imagination from those of knowledge.
This alone is the insuperable safeguard against spiritual usurpa
tion, the solvent of all thought which would otherwise petrifv
into dead immoveable institutions, and the lasting guarantee
of spiritual advancement.
The contemplations and conceptions of the Positivist who
�350
Recollections of Shelley and Byron.
worships his kind are bounded, as we have said, by the limita
tions which he knows are incident to humanity; idealize as he
may, he can never free himself of the belief that no perfect man
or woman has ever trod this planet. How, then, is it possible
that any one but the ignorant and unreflective can ever feel the
glow of genuine devotion when he bows himself to a being whose
nature he knows to have been but a fragmentary representative of
the ideal of man, or when he worships his best conception of this
ideal itself knowing it to be an idol of his own creation ? These
fatal weaknesses of Positivism have no application to the Theist:
the fervour of his adoration is deadened by no secret conscious
ness that the object of his worship is marred with imperfection;
for however great and glorious may be the attributes he ascribes
to it, he feels assured that they are infinitely surpassed by the
Reality itself.
Art. II.—Recollections of Shelley
and
Recollections of the Last Days of Shelley and Byron.
Trelawny. London: Edward Moxon. 1858.
Byron.
By E. J.
R. TRELAWNY has done well in giving this manly and
carelessly written little volume to the world: it will at least
revive the personal memory of two Englishmen who, though long
dead, can never be altogether of the past. Without telling much
of either with which we were not previously acquainted, the infor
mation communicated is the result of intimate personal know
ledge, and, gathered during the intervals of a familiar acquaint
ance, comes out with such freshness and vigour, that it possesses
nearly all the merit of novelty; and the striking features of cha
racter are brought forward in much stronger relief, than in the
tame and wearisome biography of whioh one at least was the
victim. It is the least enviable appanage of genius that it perpe
tuates by its own lustre those faults and weaknesses which repose
in the graves of meaner men; the biographer, even though a
friend, cannot ignore these; and while he avoids giving them
undue prominence, cannot forget that truth has its claims, as well
as genius.
We recognise Shelley in these sketches as he appeared in his
works—the gentle, guileless, noble soul who persisted in putting
himself wrong with the world, and who rashly and fearlessly
launched his indignant sarcasm at the cant and bigotry and sei-
M
�
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Title
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Victorian Blogging
Description
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Pamphlet
Dublin Core
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Title
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John Wycliffe the bold, or, England's first reformer
Creator
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Ellis, J. R.
Description
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 14 p. : ill. (front. port.) ; 21 cm.
Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway.
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S.W. Partridge & Co.
Date
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[n.d.]
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CT41
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John Wycliffe
Lollards
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (John Wycliffe the bold, or, England's first reformer), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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application/pdf
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Text
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English
Conway Tracts
John Wycliffe
Religion