"Prodigious actions may as well be done
By weaver's issue as by prince's son."
--Dryden.
SO FAR as Secularism is reasonable, it must be self-extending among all
who think. Adherents of that class are slowly acquired. Accessions begin
in criticism, though that, as we have seen, is apt to stop there. In
all movements the most critical persons are the least suggestive of
improvements. Constructiveness only excites enthusiasm in fertile
minds. After the Cowper Street Discussion with the Rev. Brewin Grant in
1853, see Chapter X, page 50, societies, halls, and newspapers adopted
the Secular name. In 1863 appeared the _Christian Reasoner_, edited by
the Rev. Dr. Rylance, a really reasoning clergyman, whom I afterwards
had the pleasure to know in New York. His publication was intended to be
a substitute for the _Reasoner_, which I had then edited for seventeen
years. But when the _Reasoner_ commenced, in 1846, Christian believing
was far more thought of than Christian reasoning. One line in Dr.
Rylance's _Christian Reasoner_ was remarkable, which charged us with
"forgetfulness of the necessary incompleteness of Re-velation."
So far from forgetting it, it was one of the grounds on which Secularism
was founded. However, it is to the credit of Dr. Rylance that he should
have preceded, by thirty years, the Bishop of Worcester in discerning
the shortcomings of Revelation, as cited in Chapter XIX, page 101.
In 1869 we obtained the first Act of Secular affirmation, which Mr. J.
S. Mill said was mainly due to my exertions, and to my example of never
taking an oath. In obtaining the Act, I had no help from Mr. Bradlaugh,
he being an ostentatious oath-taker at that time. It was owing to Mr.
G. W. Hastings (then, or afterwards, M. P.), the founder of the Social
Science Association, that the Affirmation clause was added to the Act of
1869. One of the objects we avowed was "to procure a law of affirmation
for persons who objected to take the oath."*
Another of our aims was stated to be: "To convert churches and chapels
into temples of instruction for the people.... to solicit priests to
be teachers of useful knowledge."** We strove to promote these ends
by holding in honor all who gave effect to such human precepts as were
contained in Christianity. This fairness and justice has led many to
suppose that I accepted the theological as well as the ethical passages
in the Scriptures. But how can a Christian preacher be inclined to risk
the suspicion of the narrower-minded members of his congregation, if no
one gives him credit for doing right when he does it?
* Secularism the Practical Philosophy of the People, p. 13;
1854. Fifteen years before the first Act was passed.
** Secularism the Practical Philosophy of the People, by G.
J. Holyoake, p. 12; 1854.
With our limited means and newness of doctrine, we could not hope to
rival an opulent hierarchy and occupy its temples; but we knew that the
truth, if we had it, and could diffuse it in a reasonable manner, would
make its way and gradually change the convictions of a theological
caste. The very nature of Free-thought makes it impossible for a long
time yet, that we should have many wealthy or well-placed supporters.
Where the platform is open to every subject likely to be of public
service--subjects suppressed everywhere else, and open to the discussion
of the wise or foolish present who may arise to speak, outrages of good
taste will occur. Persons who forget that abuse does not destroy use,
and that freedom is more precious than propriety, cease to support a
free-speaking Society. The advocacy of slave emancipation was once an
outrage in America. It is now regarded as the glory of the nation. In
an eloquent passage it has been pointed out what society owes to the
unfriended efforts of those who established and have maintained the
right of free speech.
"Theology of the old stamp, so far from encouraging us to love nature,
teaches us that it is under a curse. It teaches us to look upon the
animal creation with shuddering disgust; upon the whole race of man,
outside our narrow sect, as delivered over to the Devil; and upon the
laws of nature at large as a temporary mechanism, in which we have been
caught, but from which we are to anticipate a joyful deliverance. It is
science, not theology, which has changed all this; it is the atheists,
infidels, and rationalists, as they are kindly called, who have taught
us to take fresh interest in our poor fellow denizens of the world, and
not to despise them because Almighty Benevolence could not be expected
to admit them to Heaven. To the same teaching we owe the recognition
of the noble aspirations embodied in every form of religion, and the
destruction of the ancient monopoly of divine influences."*
* Leslie Stephens's Freetkinking and Plain Speaking.
Those who, in storm and stress, bring truth into the world may not be
able to complete its triumph, but it makes its own way, and finally
conquers the understanding of mankind.
Priestley, without fortune, with only the slender income of a Unitarian
minister, created and kept up a chemical laboratory. There alone he
discovered oxygen. Few regarded him, few applauded him; only a few
Parisian philosophers thanked him. He had no disciples to spread his new
truth. He was not even tolerated in the town which he endowed with
the fame of his priceless discovery. His house was burnt by a
Church-and-King mob; his instruments, books, and manuscripts destroyed;
and he had to seek his fortune in a foreign land.
Yet what has come out of his discovery? It has become part of the
civilisation of the world, and mankind owe more to him than they yet
understand.
When a young man, he forsook the Calvinism in which he was reared. "I
came," he said, "to embrace what is called heterodox views on every
question."* He cared for this world as well as for another, and hence
was distrusted by all "true believers." Though he had "spiritual hopes,"
he agreed that he should be called a materialist.
We have now had (1895) a London Reform Sunday, more than two hundred and
fifty (one list gave four hundred) preachers of all denominations
taking for their unprecedented text, "The Duties and Responsibilities
of Citizenship,"--a thing the most sanguine deemed incredible when
suggested by me in 1854.** Within twenty years Dr. Felix Adler has
founded noble Ethical Societies. Dr. Stanton Coit is extending them
in Great Britain. They are Secularist societies in their nature. South
Place Chapel now has taken the name of Ethical Society. Since the days
of W. J. Fox, who first made it famous, it has been the only successor
in London of the Moral Church opened by Thomas Holcroft.
* See Chambers's Encyclopaedia (1888); article: Priestley.
** We have now a Museum Sunday. Even twenty years ago those
who advocated the Sunday opening of museums were counted
irreverent and beyond the pale of grace. Their opening is
now legalised (1896).
Though modern Secular societies, to which these pages relate, have
been anti-theological mainly, the Secular Society of Leicester is a
distinguished exception. It has long had a noble hall of its own, and
from the earliest inception of Secularism it has been consistent and
persistent in its principles. As stated elsewhere,* the "Principles of
Secularism" were submitted to John Stuart Mill in 1854, and his approval
was of importance in the eyes of their advocates. In the first issue of
_Chambers's Encyclopaedia_ a special article appeared upon these views,
and in the later issue of that work in 1888 a new article was written
on Secularism. In the Rev. Dr. Molesworth's _History of England_ a very
clear account was given of the rise of Secularist opinions. This will be
sufficient information for readers unacquainted with the subject.
* Sixty Years of an Agitator's Life, Chap. CX.
The cause of reason has had more to confront than the cause of
Christianity, which has always been on the side of power since the days
of Christ. The two most influential ideas which, in every age since
Christianity arose, have given it currency among the ignorant and the
credulous, have been the ideas of Hell and prayer. Hell has been the
terror, and prayer the bribe, which have won the allegiance of the
timid and the needy. These two master passions of alarm and despair have
brought the unfortunate portions of mankind to the foot of the Cross.
The cause of reason has no advantages of this nature, and only the
intelligent have confidence in its progress. If we have expected to do
more than we have, we are not the only party who have been prematurely
sanguine. The Rev. David Bogue, preaching in Whitfield's Tabernacle,
Tottenham-Court Road, at the foundation of the Foreign Missionary
Society (1790) of the Congregational denomination, exclaimed amid almost
unequalled enthusiasm: "We are called together this evening to the
funeral of bigotry." Judging from what has happened since, bigotry
was not dead when its funeral was prepared, or it was not effectually
buried, as it has been seen much about since that day.
Bigotry, like Charles II., takes an unconscionable time in dying.
Down to Sir Charles Lyell's days, so harmless a study as geology was
distrusted, and Lyell, like Priestley, had to seek auditors in America.
While he lectured at Boston to 1,500 persons, 2,000 more were unable to
obtain tickets, which were bought at a guinea each extra. At our
great ancient seat of learning, Oxford, Buckland lectured on the same
interesting subject to an audience of three.
Secularism keeps the lamp of free thought burning by aiding and honoring
all who would infuse an ethical passion into those who lead the growing
army of independent thinkers. Our lamp is not yet a large one, and its
supply of oil is limited by Christian law; but, like the fire in the
Temple of Montezuma, we keep it burning. In all the centuries since the
torch of free thought was first lighted, though often threatened, often
assailed, often dimned, it has never been extinguished. We could not
hope to captivate society by splendid edifices, nor many cultivated
advocates; but truth of principle will penetrate where those who
maintain it will never be seen and never heard. The day cometh when
other torches will be lighted at the obscure fire, which, borne aloft by
other and stronger hands, will shed lasting illumination where otherwise
darkness would permanently prevail. As Elizabeth Barrett Browning has
said: "Truth is like sacramental bread,--we must pass it on."
SECULARIST CEREMONIES.
"Death is the decisive test of the value of the education
and morality of society; Secular funerals are the symbol of
the social renovation."
--J. P. Proudhon.
CERTAIN ceremonies are common to all human society, and should be
consistent with the opinions of those in whose name the ceremonies take
place. The marriage service of the Church contains things no bride could
hear without a blush, if she understood them; and the Burial Service
includes statements the minister ought to know to be untrue, and by
which the sadness of death is desecrated. The Secularist naturally seeks
other forms of speech. It being a principle of Secularism to endeavor to
replace what it deems bad by something better--or more consistent with
its profession--the following addresses are given. Other hands may
supply happier examples; but, in the meantime, these which follow may
meet with the needs of those who have no one at hand to speak for them,
and are not accustomed to speak for themselves.
ON MARRIAGE.
Marriage involves several things of which few persons think beforehand,
and which it is useful to call their attention to at this time. The
bridegroom, by the act of marriage, professes that he has chosen out
of all the women of the world, known to him, the one to whom he will
be faithful while life shall last. He declares the bride to be his
preference, and, whoever he may see hereafter, or like, or love, the
door of association shall be shut upon them in his heart for ever. The
bride, on her part, declares and promises the same things. The belief
in each other's perfection is the most beautiful illusion of love.
Sometimes the illusion happily continues during life. It may happen--it
does happen sometimes--that each discovers that the other is not
perfect. The Quaker's advice was: "Open your eyes wide before marriage,
but shut them afterwards." Those who have neglected the first part of
this counsel will still profit by observing the second. Let those who
will look about, and put tormenting constructions on innocent acts:
beware of jealousy, which kills more happiness than ever Love created.
The result of marriage is usually offspring, when society will have
imposed upon it an addition to its number. It is necessary for the
credit of the parents, as well as for the welfare of the children, that
they should be born healthy, reared healthy, and be well educated; so
that they may be strong and intelligent when the time comes for them to
encounter, for themselves, the vicissitudes of life. Those who marry
are considered to foreknow and to foresee these duties, and to pledge
themselves to do the best in their power to discharge them.
In the meantime, and ever afterwards, let love reign between you.
And remember the minister of Love is deference towards each other.
Ceremonial manners are conducive to affection. Love is not a business,
but the permanence of love is a business.
Unless there are good humor, patience, pleasantness, discretion, and
forbearance, love will cease. Those who expect perfection will lose
happiness. A wise tolerance is the sunshine of love, and they who
maintain the sentiment will come to count their marriage the beginning
of the brightness of life.
NAMING CHILDREN.
In naming children it is well to avoid names whose associations pledge
the child, without its consent, to some line of action it may have no
mind to, or capacity for, when grown up. A child called "Brutus" would
be expected to stab Caesar--and the Caesars are always about. The name
"Washington" destroyed a politician of promise who bore it. He could
never live up to it. A name should be a pleasant mark to be known by,
not a badge to be borne.
In formally naming a child it is the parents alone to whom useful words
can be addressed.
Heredity, which means qualities derived from parentage, is a prophecy of
life. Therefore let parents render themselves as perfect in health, as
wise in mind, and as self-respecting in manners as they can; for their
qualities in some degree will appear in their offspring. One advantage
of children is that they contribute unconsciously to the education
of parents. No parents of sense can fail to see that children are as
imitative as monkeys, and have better memories. Not only do they imitate
actions, but repeat forms of expression, and will remember them ever
after. The manners of parents become more or less part of the manners
and mind of the child. Sensible parents, seeing this, will put a guard
upon their conduct and speech, so that their example in act and word may
be a store-house of manners and taste from which their children may draw
wisdom in conduct and speech. The minds of children are as photographic
plates on which parents are always printing something which will
be indelibly visible in future days. Therefore the society, the
surroundings, the teachers of the child, so far as the parents can
control them, should be well chosen, in order that the name borne by the
young shall command respect when their time comes to play a part in the
drama of life. To this end a child should be taught to take care what he
promises, and that when he has given his promise he has to keep it, for
he whose word is not to be trusted is always suspected, and his opinion
is not sought by others, or is disregarded when uttered. A child should
early learn that debt is dependence, and the habit of it is the meanness
of living upon loans. There can be no independence, no reliance upon the
character of any one, who will buy without the means of payment, or who
lives beyond his income. Such persons intend to live on the income of
some one else, and do it whether they intend it or not. He alone can be
independent who trusts to himself for advancement. No one ought to be
helped forward who does not possess this quality, or will not put his
hand to any honest work open to him. Beware of the child who has too
much pride to do what he can for his own support, but has not too much
pride to live upon his parents, or upon friends. Such pride is idleness,
or thoughtlessness, or both, unless illness causes the inability.
Since offspring have to be trained in health and educated in the
understanding, there must not be many in the family unless the parents
have property. The poor cannot afford to have many children if they
intend to do their duty by them. It is immoral in the rich to have
many because the example is bad, and because they are sooner or later
quartered upon the people to keep them; or, if they are provided for
by their parents, they are under no obligation to do anything for
themselves, which is neither good for them nor good for the community,
to which they contribute nothing.
Believing this child will be trained by its parents to be an honor to
them, and a welcome addition to the family of humanity, it is publicly
named with pleasure.
OVER THE DEAD.
I.----READING AT A GRAVE.
Esdras and Uriel,
[An argument in which the Prophet speaks as a Secularist.]
And the angel that was sent unto me, whose name was Uriel, said:--I am
sent to show thee three ways, and to set forth three similitudes before
thee: whereof, if thou canst declare me one, I will show thee also the
way that thou desirest to see....
And I said, Tell on, my Lord.
Then said he unto me, Go thy way; weigh me the weight of the fire, or
measure me the blast of the wind, or call me again the day that is past.
Then answered I and said, What man is able to do that, that thou
shouldest ask such things of me?
And he said unto me, If I should ask thee how great dwellings are in the
midst of the sea, or how many springs are in the beginning of the deep,
or how many springs are above the firmament, or which are the outgoings
of Paradise, peradventure thou wouldst say unto me, I never went down
into the deep, nor as yet into Hell, neither did I ever climb up into
Heaven.
Nevertheless, now have I asked thee but only of the fire, and wind, and
of the day wherethrough thou hast passed, and of things from which thou
canst not be separated, and yet canst thou give me no answer of them.
He said, moreover, unto me, Thine own things, and such as are grown up
with thee, canst thou not know? How should thy vessel, then, be able to
comprehend the way of the Highest?....
Then said I unto him, It were better that we were not at all than
that we should live still in wickedness and to suffer, and not to know
wherefor.
He answered me and said, I went into a forest, into a plain, and the
trees took counsel, and said, Come, let us go and make war against the
sea, that it may depart away before us, and that we may make us more
woods.
The floods of the sea also in like manner took counsel, and said, Come,
let us go up and subdue the woods of the plain: that there also we may
make us another country.
The thought of the wood was in vain, for the fire came and consumed it.
The thought of the floods of the sea came likewise to nought, for the
sand stood up and stopped them.
If thou wert judge now betwixt these two, whom wouldest thou begin to
justify? or whom wouldest thou condemn?
I answered, and said, Verily it is a foolish thought that they both have
devised; for the ground is given unto the wood, and the sea also hath
his place to bear his floods.
Then answered he me and said, Thou hast given a right judgment; but why
judgest thou not thyself also? For like as the ground is given unto the
woods, and the sea to his floods, even so they that dwell upon the earth
may understand nothing but that which is upon the earth: and he that
dwelleth upon the heavens may only understand the things that are above
the height of the heavens.
Then answered I and said, I beseech thee, O Lord, let me have
understanding.
For it was not my mind to be curious of the high things y but of such as
pass by us daily.
Harriet Martineau's Hymn.*
* Which may be sung where it can be so arranged.
[The only hymn known to me in which a Supreme Cause is implied without
being asserted or denied, or the reader committed to belief in it.]
Beneath this starry arch
Nought resteth or is still,
But all things hold their march
As if by one great will:
Moves one, move all:
Hark to the footfall!
On, on, for ever!
Yon sheaves were once but seed;
Will ripens into deed.
As eave-drops swell the streams,
Day-thoughts feed nightly dreams;
And sorrow tracketh wrong,
As echo follows song,
On, on, for ever!
By night, like stars on high,
The hours reveal their train;
They whisper and go by;
I never watch in vain:
Moves one, move all:
Hark to the footfall!
On, on, for ever!
They pass the cradle-head,
And there a promise shed;
They pass the moist new grave,
And bid bright verdure wave;
They bear through every clime,
The harvests of all time,
On, on, for ever!
II.--AT THE GRAVE OF A CHILD.
The death of a child is alone its parents' sorrow. Too young to know,
too innocent to fear, its life is a smile and its death a sleep. As the
sun goes down before our eyes, so a mother's love vanishes from the
gaze of infancy, and death, like evening, comes to it with quietness,
gentleness, and rest. We measure the loss of a child by the grief we
feel. When its love is gone, its promise over, and its prattle silent,
its fate excites the parents' tears; but we forget that infancy, like
the rose, is unconscious of the sweetness it sheds, and it parts without
pain from the pleasure it was too young to comprehend, though engaging
enough to give to others. The death of a child is like the death of a
day, of which George Herbert sings:
"Sweet day, so clear, so calm, so bright
Bridal of the earth and sky;
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night--
For thou must die."
It is no consolation to say, "When a child dies it is taken from the
sorrows of life." Yes! it is taken from the sorrows of life, and from
its joys also. When the young die they are taken away from the evil, and
from good as well. What parents' love does not include the happiness of
its offspring? No! we will not cheat ourselves. Death is a real loss to
those who mourn, and the world is never the same again to those who have
wept by the grave of a child. Argument does not, in that hour, reach the
heart. It is human to weep, and sympathy is the only medicine of great
grief. The sight of the empty shoe in the corner will efface the most
relevant logic. Not all the preaching since Adam has made death other
than death. Yet, though sorrow cannot be checked at once by reason, it
may be chastened by it. Wisdom teaches that all human passions must
be subordinate to the higher purposes of life. We must no more abandon
ourselves to grief than to vice. The condition of life is the liability
to vicissitude, and, while it is human to feel, it is duty to endure.
The flowers fade, and the stars go down, and youth and loveliness vanish
in the eternal change. Though we cannot but regret a vital loss, it is
wisdom to love all that is good for its own sake; to enjoy its presence
fully, but not to build on its continuance, doing what we can to insure
its continuance, and bearing with fortitude its loss when it comes. If
the death of infancy teaches us this lesson, the past may be a charmed
memory, with courage and dignity in it.
III.--MEN OR WOMEN.
The science of life teaches us that while there is pain there is life.
It would seem, therefore, that death, with silent and courteous step,
never comes save to the unconscious. A niece of Franklin's, known for
her wit and consideration for others, arrived at her last hour at the
age of ninety-eight. In her composure a friend gently touched her. "Ah,"
murmured the old lady, "I was dying so beautifully when you brought
me back! But never mind, my dear; I shall try it again." This bright
resignation, worthy of the niece of a philosopher, is making its way in
popular affection.
Lord Tennyson, when death came near to him, wrote:
"Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar
When I put out to sea.
"Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark,
And may there be no sadness of farewell
When I embark."
There is just a touch of superstition in these genial lines. He writes:
"After death the dark." How did he know that? What evidence is there
that the unknown land is "dark"? Why not light? The unknown has no
determinate or ascertained color.
Where we know nothing, neither priest nor poet has any right to speak
as though he had knowledge. Improbability does not imply impossibility.
That which invests death with romantic interest is, that it may be a
venture on untried existence. If a future state be true, it will befall
those who do not expect it as well as those who do. Another world, if
such there be, will come most benefitingly and most agreeably to those who
have qualified themselves for it, by having made the best use in their
power of this. By best use is meant the service of man. Desert consists
alone in the service of others. Kindness and cheerfulness are the two
virtues which most brighten human life.
Wide-eyed philanthropy is not merely money-giving goodness, but the
wider kindness which aids the ascendancy of the right and minimises
misery everywhere.
Death teaches, as nothing else does, one useful lesson. Whatever
affection or friendship we may have shown to one we have lost,
Death brings to our memory countless acts of tenderness which we had
neglected. Conscience makes us sensible of these omissions now it is too
late to repair them. But we can pay to the living what we think we owe
to the dead; whereby we transmute the dead we honor into benefactors of
those they leave behind. This is a useful form of consolation, of which
all survivors may avail themselves.
Mrs. Ernestine Rose--a brave advocate of unfriended right--when age and
infirmity brought her near to death, recalled the perils and triumphs
in which she had shared, the slave she had helped to set free from the
bondage of ownership, and the slave minds she had set free from the
bondage of authority; she was cheered, and exclaimed: "But I have
lived."
The day will come when all around this grave shall meet death; but it
will be a proud hour if, looking back upon a useful and generous past,
we each can say: "I have _lived_."
IV.----ON A CAREER OF PUBLIC USEFULNESS.
In reasoning upon death no one has surpassed the argument of Socrates,
who said: "Death is one of two things: either the dead may be nothing
and have no feeling--well, then, if there be no feeling, but it be like
sleep, when the sleeper has no dream, surely death would be a marvellous
gain, for thus all futurity appears to be nothing more than one night.
If, on the other hand, death be a removal hence to another place, and
what is said be true, that all the dead are there, what greater blessing
can there be than this?"
Sir Edwin Arnold, in his _Secret of Death_, writes:
"Nay, but as when one layeth
His worn-out robes away,
And, taking new ones, sayeth,
'These will I wear to-day!'
So putteth by the spirit
Lightly its garb of flesh,
And passeth to inherit
A residence afresh."
This may be true, and there is no objection to it if it is. But the pity
is, nobody seems to be sure about it. At death we may mourn, but duty
ceaseth not. If we desist in endeavors for the right because a combatant
falls at our side, no battle will ever be won. "Life," Mazzini used
to say, "is a battle and a march." Those who serve others at their own
peril are always in
"battle." Let us honor them as they pass. Some of them have believed:
"Though love repine and reason chafe,
There came a voice without reply--
'Tis man's perdition to be safe,
When for the truth he ought to die.'"
They are of those who, as another poet has said, "are not to be mourned,
but to be imitated."* The mystery of death is no greater than
the mystery of life. All that precedes our existence was unseen,
unimaginable, and unknown to us. What may succeed in the future is
unprovable by philosopher or priest:
"A flower above and the mould below:
And this is all that the mourners know."**
The ideal of life which gives calmness and confidence in death is
the same in the mind of the wise Christian as in the mind of the
philosopher. Sydney Smith says: "Add to the power of discovering truth
the desire of using it for the promotion of human happiness, and
you have the great end and object of our existence."*** Putting just
intention into action, a man fulfils the supreme duty of life, which
casts out all fear of the future.
* W. J. Linton.
** Barry Cornwall.
*** Moral Philosophy.
A poet who thought to reconcile to their loss those whose lines have not
fallen to them in pleasant places wrote:
"A little rule, a little sway,
A sunbeam on a winter's day,
Is all the proud and mighty have
Between the cradle and the grave."
This is not true; the proud and mighty have rest at choice, and play at
will. The "sunbeam" is on them all their days. Between the cradle and
the grave is the whole existence of man. The splendid inheritance of
the "proud and mighty" ought to be shared by all whose labor creates and
makes possible the good fortune of those who "toil not, neither do they
spin"*, and whoever has sought to endow the industrious with liberty and
intelligence, with competence and leisure, we may commit to the earth in
the sure and certain hope that they deserve well, and will fare well, in
any "land of the leal" to which mankind may go.
End of Project Gutenberg's English Secularism, by George Jacob Holyoake