A curious illustration of the fact that Morality, to be permanent,
needs the inspiration of Religion, that Morality, at its best and
purest, tends to become Religion, is {41} afforded in such a work as
Dr. Stanton Coit's _National Idealism and a State Church_. Dr. Coit
has for twenty years been engaged in founding ethical societies, and
his high and disinterested aims need not be called in question. But
the book is evidence that in order to support the lofty principles
which he so earnestly expounds, he is obliged to call in the aid of
principles which he imagined himself to have discarded. He begins by
denying the Supernatural in every shape and form. He will have none of
a personal God, or of a personal immortality. There is no higher being
than Man. All trust must be shifted from supernatural to human
agencies. 'Combined human foresight, the general will of organised
society, assumes the role of Creative Providence.' 'This is, then, the
presupposition of all moral judgment in harmony with which I would
reconstruct the religions of the world: that no crime and no good deed
that happens in this world shall {42} ever be traced to any other moral
agencies than those actually inhabiting living human bodies and
recognised by other human beings as fit subjects of human rights and
privileges.' In other words, Morality, Morality alone, Morality
without any sanction from Above, or any hope from Beyond, is the
all-sufficient strength and ennoblement of man.
But what is the superstructure which Dr. Stanton Coit proceeds to build
upon this foundation? One would naturally expect that Prayer and
Churches and Sacraments would have no place. But these are exactly
what he insists on retaining; these will apparently be more important,
more necessary, in the future than in the past. 'We should appropriate
and adapt the materials furnished us by the rites and ceremonies of the
historic Church. As the woodbird, bent on building her nest, in lieu
of better materials makes it of leaves and of feathers from her breast,
so may we use what is familiar, old, {43} and close at hand. It is all
ours; and the homelike beauty of the Church of the future will be
enhanced by the ancient materials wrought into its new forms.' So much
enhanced, indeed, that most people will be inclined to tolerate the new
forms simply because of the ancient materials which are allowed to
remain. Among the ancient materials which Dr. Coit appropriates or
adapts, prayer occupies a prominent place. And he is severe upon
those, _e.g._, Comte and Dr. Congreve, who would banish petition from
the sphere of worship. He delights in pointing out that, in despite of
themselves, they include requests for personal blessings. Nor is
prayer to be a mere aspiration or inarticulate longing of the soul.
'No mental activity can become definite, coherent, and systematic, and
remain so, except it be embodied and repeated in words.... A petition
that does not, or cannot, or will not, formulate itself in words, and
let the lips move to shape them, and the {44} voice to sound them, and
the eye to visualise them on the written or printed page, becomes soon
a mere torpor of the mind, or a meaningless movement of blind unrest,
or a trick of pretending to pray. Perfected prayer is always spoken.'
To whom, or to what, this prayer, uttered or unexpressed, is to be
offered, may be difficult of comprehension. It is not to God, as we
have hitherto employed that sacred name; but Dr. Coit insists that the
word 'God' shall be retained, and that we have no right to deny to this
God the attribute of Personality. 'Any one who worships either a
concrete social group or an abstract moral quality may justly protest
against the charge that his God is impersonal: he may insist that it is
either superpersonal or interpersonal, or both.' The worship of Nature
appears to be discouraged, and to be considered as of comparatively
little worth. 'We dare never forget that moral qualities stand to us
in a {45} different dynamic relation from the grass and the stars and
the sea--no effects upon us or upon these will result from petitions
even of a most righteous man to them. But no one can deny that prayers
to Purity, Serenity, Faith, Humanity, England, Man, Woman, to Milton,
to Jesus, do create a new moral heaven and a new earth for him who
thirsts after righteousness.' Leaving the name of our Lord out of the
discussion, why should a prayer to Serenity have more moral influence
than a prayer to the Sea? Why should a prayer to the Stars be less
efficacious than a prayer to Milton, whose soul was like a star and
dwelt apart? We have only to invest the stars and the sea with certain
qualities evolved from our own imagination to make them as worthy of
worship as either Milton or Serenity. Dr. Coit is scathing in his
criticism of the Positivist prayers, whether of Comte or of Dr.
Congreve: they are 'screamingly funny': 'the most monstrous {46}
absurdity ever perpetrated by a really good and great man.' The
epithets are possibly justified; but are they quite inapplicable to one
who supposes that an invocation of the Living and Eternal God means no
more than an invocation of England, or Faith, or Woman? It is only
when God has become to us an abstraction that an abstraction can take
the place of God.
A manual of services fitted to a nation's present needs is what,
according to Dr. Coit, is required to ensure the progress and triumph
of the ethical movement. 'Until the new idealism possesses its own
manual of religious ritual, it cannot communicate effectively its
deeper thought and purpose. The moment, however, it has invented such
a means of communication, it would seem inevitable that a rapid moral
and intellectual advancement of man must at last take place, equal in
speed and in beneficence to the material advancement which followed
{47} during the last century in the wake of scientific inventions.'
The ritual of ethical societies will not outwardly differ much from the
ritual to be found in existing religions. Its details have yet to be
arranged or 'invented.' The only things certain are that a book of
prayers ought to be provided at once, and that in Swinburne's _Songs
before Sunrise_ may be found an 'anthology of prayer suitable for use
in the Church of Humanity,' prayers 'as sublime and quickening in
melody and passion as anything in the Hebrew prophets or the Litany of
the Church.'
Dr. Coit does not denounce theology as theology, he even insists on
being himself ranked among theologians. His readers may be surprised
to learn on what doctrines he dwells with particular fondness. He
laments that belief in the existence and power of the devil should be
waning. 'We may not believe in a personal devil, but we must believe
in a devil who acts very like a person.' {48} He predicts that teachers
will more and more teach a doctrine of hell-fire. Out of kindness they
will terrify by presenting the evil effects, indirect and remote, of
selfish thoughts and dispositions. 'We must frighten people away from
the edge of the abyss which begins this side of death.' Finally,
though, of course, the word is not used in the ordinary sense, the
necessity of the doctrine of the Incarnation is upheld. 'The
Incarnation must for ever remain a fundamental conception of religion.
Until all men are incarnations of the principle of constructive moral
beneficence, and to a higher degree, Jesus will remain pre-eminent; and
it is quite possible that in proportion as he is approached, gratitude
to him will increase rather than diminish.' 'Even should any one ever
in the future transcend him, still it will only be by him and in glad
acknowledgment of the debt to him. There never can in the future be a
dividing of the world into Christianity {49} and not Christianity. It
will only be a new and more Christian Christianity, compatible with
liberty and reason.'
Thus the drift and tendency of this book bring us back, however
unintentionally, to the Faith of which it appears, at first sight, to
be the renunciation. It establishes irresistibly that Morality, to be
living and permanent, must have religious sanction and inspiration,
that we need to be delivered from the awful thraldom of evil, that the
supreme realities are the things which are unseen; that prayer is the
life of the soul; that public worship is a necessity; that in Christ
the greatest redemptive power has been embodied, and the purest vision
of the Eternal has been granted; and that, in its adaptation to human
needs, its fostering of human aspirations, its ministering to human
sorrows, its renewal of human penitence, its consecration of life and
its hope in death, no Ethical Society yet devised gives any {50}
symptom of being able to supplant the Church of Him Who said, 'Come
unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden and I will give you
rest.'
V
Now, from the fact that Morality at its best assumes a religious tinge,
merges itself in Religion, we may legitimately infer that, without the
inspiration of Religion, Morality at its best will not long prevail.[2]
'Love, friendship,' said Sir James Fitzjames Stephen, 'good nature,
kindness carried to the height of sincere and devoted affection, will
always be the chief pleasures of life, whether Christianity is true or
false; but Christian Charity is not the same as any of these, or all of
these put together, and I think that if Christian Theology were
exploded, Christian Charity would not survive it.'[3] At present, when
Religion has pervaded everything with its sacred sanctions, it is easy
to say that Religion {51} would not be greatly missed were it
discarded, and that Morality would be unaffected. This is pure
conjecture. To test its worth we should need a state of society from
which every vestige of Religion had disappeared. It will not do to
retain any of the beliefs or the customs which owe their origin to a
sense of the Unseen and Eternal, to a sense of any Power above
ourselves, ruling our destinies and instilling into our minds thoughts
and desires and hopes beyond the visible and the material. If
Morality, in the limited acceptation of the term, is sufficient for the
elevation and welfare of mankind, it is not to be supported by any
admixture of Religion: it must prove its power by itself. Religion
must be utterly abolished, its every sanction must be universally
rejected, its every impulse must have universally ceased before it can
be contended with any measure of assurance that the world will be none
the worse, may be even the better, for its vanishing.
{52}
If Religion is a delusion, remember what must be eliminated from our
convictions. There can be no higher tribunal than that of man by which
our actions can be judged.[4] A life of outward propriety is the
utmost that can be demanded of us, if it is only against the wellbeing
of our neighbour or the promotion of our own happiness that we can
transgress. What has human law to do with our hearts? What
legislation can deal with 'envy, hatred, malice, and all
uncharitableness,' unless they manifest themselves in outward acts? A
base, unloving, impure, acrimonious, untruthful man may crawl through
life, never having been arrested, never having been sentenced to any
term of penal servitude. He can stand erect before all the laws of the
country and say, 'All these have I kept from my youth up.' And unless
there be a higher law than the law of man, unless there be a law
written on our hearts by the Finger of {53} God, unless there be One to
whom, above and beyond all earthly appearances, we can mournfully
declare, 'Against Thee, Thee only, have I sinned,' nothing more can be
reasonably demanded. If there is nothing higher than the visible, it
can be only visible results which are of any value. The giving of
money to help the needy, and the giving of money in order to obtain a
reputation for generosity, must stand on the same level. The widow's
mite will be worth infinitely less than the shekels which come from
those who devour widows' houses. If there be none to search the heart,
none save poor frail fellow-mortals to whom we must give account, what
an incentive to purity of motive and loftiness of aspiration is
removed! But let men talk as they will, there is a conscience in them
which whispers, It does matter whether our hearts as well as our
actions are right; it does matter whether we have good motives, good
intentions; there is a scrutiny of hearts, {54} making and to be made
more fully yet; there is One before Whom, even though we have not
broken the law of the land, we confess with anguish, Against Thee have
I sinned and done evil in Thy sight: where I appear most
irreproachable, Thine eye detecteth error: it is not the occasional
trespass that I have chiefly to lament, it is the sin that is almost
part and parcel of my very being, the sin that corrodes even where it
does not glare, the sin that undermines even where it does not crash.