Transcriber's Note.
Apparent typographical errors have been corrected; inconsistencies in
the use of hyphens have been retained.
One "oe" ligature has been removed.
COMMON SENSE APPLIED TO RELIGION;
OR,
THE BIBLE AND THE PEOPLE.
BY CATHARINE E. BEECHER.
AUTHOR OF "LETTERS TO THE PEOPLE ON HEALTH AND HAPPINESS,"
"PHYSIOLOGY AND CALISTHENICS," "DOMESTIC ECONOMY,"
"DOMESTIC RECEIPT-BOOK," &c., &c.
NEW YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
FRANKLIN SQUARE.
MONTREAL: BENJAMIN DAWSON.
1857.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight
hundred and fifty-seven, by
HARPER & BROTHERS,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of
New York.
TO THE PEOPLE,
AS THE SAFEST AND TRUEST INTERPRETERS OF
THE BIBLE, AND
TO WOMAN, AS
THE HEAVEN-APPOINTED EDUCATOR OF MIND,
THIS WORK
Is respectfully Dedicated.
INDEX.
Page
Introduction ix
CHAP. I. The Grand Questions of Life 9
CHAP. II. The Principles of Reason, or Intuitive Truths 14
CHAP. III. Sources of Human Knowledge 29
CHAP. IV. Of the Knowledge gained by Human Experience in regard
to the Nature of Mind and of the System of which it is a Part 32
CHAP. V. Knowledge gained by Reason and Experience alone as to a
Future State 42
CHAP. VI. Knowledge gained by Reason and Experience alone
concerning the Existence, Character, and Designs of the Creator 47
CHAP. VII. Diversities in Systems of Mental Philosophy 52
CHAP. VIII. Classification and Description of the Mental Powers 59
CHAP. IX. Sensation and Perception 64
CHAP. X. Conception and Memory 79
CHAP. XI. Attention and Abstraction 83
CHAP. XII. Association 93
CHAP. XIII. Imagination 102
CHAP. XIV. Judgment 106
CHAP. XV. The Susceptibilities 109
CHAP. XVI. The Susceptibilities. Emotions of Taste 120
CHAP. XVII. The Moral Susceptibilities 139
CHAP. XVIII. The Will 149
CHAP. XIX. Faith or Belief 165
CHAP. XX. Constitutional Varieties of the Human Mind 175
CHAP. XXI. Habit 178
CHAP. XXII. Mind as Proof of its Creator's Designs 190
CHAP. XXIII. Social and Material Proofs of the Creator's
Designs 207
CHAP. XXIV. Right Mode of securing the Object for which
Mind was created 212
CHAP. XXV. Wrong Action of Mind and its Causes 220
CHAP. XXVI. Wrong Action of Mind and its Results in this
Life 224
CHAP. XXVII. Wrong Action of Mind and its Results in a Future
State 233
CHAP. XXVIII. Character of the Creator 245
CHAP. XXIX. On Perfect and Imperfect Minds 250
CHAP. XXX. On the probable Existence and Character of
Disembodied Spirits 258
CHAP. XXXI. Probabilities in regard to a Revelation from the
Creator 261
CHAP. XXXII. Interpretation of Language 265
Addenda to Vol. I. 281
Notes 337
INTRODUCTION.
This work is the result of thirty years of devotion to the training of
the human mind for the great end for which it was created. Early in that
period it was felt that at the very foundation of such efforts were
opposing _theological theories_, that seemed at war with both the common
sense and the moral sense of mankind.
In the progress of such duties, a work was prepared on _Mental and Moral
Science_, as a text-book for the institution under the care of the
writer, which was printed, but never published. After submitting this
work to the criticism of a number of the leading minds of various
schools and sects, it was found to contain so much that might result in
theological controversy, that it was deemed modest and wise to wait
until age, experience, and farther examination had lent their maturing
influence.
After a delay of over a quarter of a century, the conviction above
stated not only remains, but has been strengthened by the discussions
and developments that have intervened in that period.
While the great practical truths both of natural and revealed religion
have seemed constantly to be gaining a more controlling influence over
the intellect and feelings of mankind, the theological dogmas referred
to have been more and more evaded or rejected, even by those who receive
and respect the Bible as containing authentic and authoritative
revelations from God.
At the same time, there is apparent a manifest and strong tendency,
especially among the young and most highly-educated of both sexes, to
_infidelity_; not to that species of a former age which involved a
hatred and contempt for the Bible, nor to the entire rejection of it as
a very respectable and useful collection of most interesting writings,
but to a rejection of it as a _sure and authoritative guide in faith and
morals_.
Though there may be other assignable causes for this, it is certain that
not the least powerful is the repellency of dogmas claimed to be
contained in the Bible, which are revolting both to the intellect and to
the moral nature of man.
Instead of being able to meet their religious teachers with the
assumption that all which they have felt to be contrary to reason, to
common sense, and to common honesty is not contained in the Sacred
Writings, many have gradually drawn off to the religion of reason and
nature, and left the Bible to theologians and the Church.
At the same time, there has been a new development of philanthropy, in
which those who either repudiate the Bible as of any binding authority,
or disallow its commonly-accepted teachings, are as prominent and
earnest in works of benevolence as the most orthodox of any sect. To
these are added religious teachers, who set forth the morality and
benevolence demanded in the Bible as obligatory, and as satisfactorily
deducible from the light of nature, so that no revelation is needful to
make them more so. Meantime, in popular forms and by popular writers,
all the most plausible and startling difficulties that oppose the claims
of the Bible are widely disseminated, while little is done to counteract
these influences.
Another class of religionists has also arisen, that numbers probably its
hundreds of thousands, the _Spiritualists_, who rest their faith on a
new species of so-called revelations, which ordinarily clash with the
accepted teachings of the Bible, and by vast numbers are received as of
superior authority.
Meantime the press and public lectures are extensively supplanting the
pulpit as organs of moral and religious influence over large portions of
the community, while a large part of the most popular speakers and
writers avowedly reject the Bible as of any binding authority in
deciding moral and religious questions.
At the same time, there has arisen a freedom of investigation, and an
aversion to all traditional or conservative bonds, such as probably
never before was so universal and dominant in this nation, especially
among those religiously educated.
All these influences have combined to place the Bible, and the systems
of theology that claim to be educed from it, in entirely new relations.
Nothing now is safe on the ground of tradition, or of authority, or of
the reverence that belongs to age, learning, genius, or experience.
Every thing in religion, as well as other matters, is to stand on its
own claims, and not by any factitious supports.
In this state of the public mind, the following considerations have had
influence in leading to the presentation of the views contained in this
volume.
It is the distinctive maxim of Protestant Christianity that "every
person is to be his own interpreter of the revelations of God contained
in the Bible, responsible only to his Maker." This, of course, implies
the practicability of a proper qualification for this duty in every
individual, so that no person shall necessarily be dependent on other
minds for a correct knowledge of all that relates to his own duty and
dangers.
It is manifest that the Creator designed that _woman_ should have the
leading position as the _educator of mind_, especially at that period
when the habits and principles of life are formed. This being so, it is
clear that it was designed that _she_ should be qualified to gain by her
own independent powers all that is revealed by God that will aid her in
this great work.
The theological theories referred to, as seemingly opposing the moral
sense and common sense of mankind, are those that relate to the
foundation principle on which the training of mind is to start. They
involve the most practical questions of every-day life, both as to
individual responsibility and to the education of the young.
These theories, then, are to be examined and tested by _the laity_ as
much as by theologians, and especially are they to be examined and
decided on by _woman_, as the heaven-appointed educator of infancy and
childhood.
In this examination, these theories are to be tested, not by the
decisions of ecclesiastical bodies, nor by the writings of theologians,
but by those principles of _reason and common sense, and those laws of
language_, which guide mankind in all other practical and personal
duties. In order to this, these principles must be evolved and stated in
simple and popular form, for particular application on these questions;
for no man or woman can decide whether a thing agrees with, or is
contrary to the moral sense, or to the principles of reason and common
sense, till they clearly perceive what those principles are, and have
learned to apply them appropriately.
The leading object of this volume is, then, to present these principles
in a popular form, and to make it apparent that they can be practically
employed by the laity in deciding what is truth, both as to the claims
of the Bible as containing authoritative revelations from the Creator,
and also as to the true interpretation of it.
In asking the attention of the laity, including her own sex, to the
discussion of topics which have heretofore been deemed the most
difficult, recondite, and profound, it is with the full conviction that
most of the difficulties that heretofore have opposed such
investigations have belonged, not to the topics themselves, but to the
methods of discussion.
It is believed that, though this small volume embraces most of those
points in metaphysics which have been considered the most difficult,
there is not a page that can not be perfectly comprehended by any man or
woman of only an ordinarily good education, and with less intellectual
effort than is demanded of little girls in acquiring an ability to parse
the English language.
It is true that _close thought and attention_ are requisite for a full
appreciation of all in this volume; but not more of these are required
than the dignity and importance of the great topics involved properly
demand.
In attempting what is here proposed, it can be seen that there are great
difficulties to be met. As a general fact, these subjects have not been
presented in popular forms, but have been confined to works of
metaphysics and theology, and there enveloped in scientific techniques
and formulas not interesting or intelligible to the common mind. For
this reason, it has been suggested that, before presenting the abstract
portion, a _practical illustration_ of the subject, embodied in the
history of the opinions of the author, as they have been formed or
modified by these principles, would have far more effect on the class of
readers for whom the work is written than the bare statement of
principles and argument, while it would certainly be more likely to be
read.
It has been still farther urged that, in attempting to controvert
long-established theories, embodied as a part of religious truth in the
popular mind, there will be an opposition of _feeling_ to be overcome,
which needs a counterbalancing appeal to the feelings such as an
individual history can best offer.
As to the propriety of such a measure, it is now so common to offer
autobiographies, and histories of life and opinions by living authors,
that this will be no innovation on the customs of the literary world.
To this, a more weighty consideration should be added, and that is, that
all questions of propriety and of duty are regulated by circumstances of
risk and danger. A woman, suddenly roused from sleep to save her
children from the flames, has a very different rule of propriety in
appearing before the public from that demanded on ordinary occasions. In
this view, a believer in the risks of the _eternal loss of the soul_
must withhold nothing, however sacred and cherished, if there is the
shadow of a probability that it will avail aught in aiding, it may be,
but one struggling, darkened mind in the death-agony of the soul.
From these considerations, the writer has been led to prefix to the
exhibition of principles and arguments of this work, a mental history
that shall particularly illustrate the subjects discussed. The article
was prepared for certain personal and family friends, and is inserted
very nearly in its original form.
ILLUSTRATIVE MENTAL HISTORY.
I wish, before publishing my forthcoming work, to obtain the views of
some of my theological friends as to certain phases of experience of my
own mind, and, to a certain extent, of other minds known to me.
My _intellectual_ character was a singular compound of the practical and
the imaginative. In youth I had no love for study or for reading even,
excepting works of imagination. Don Quixote, the novel to which I first
had access, was nearly committed to memory, as were a few other novels
found at my grandmother's. The poets, both ancient and modern, were
always in reach, and with these materials I early formed a habit of
reverie and castle-building as my chief internal source of enjoyment.
With this was combined incessant activity in practical matters, such as,
at first, doll-dressing and baby-house building; afterward drawing,
painting, exploits of merriment, practical jokes, snow castles and
forts, summer excursions, school and family drama-acting, and the like.
Till eighteen, I never wrote any thing but a few letters and scraps of
rhyme, and the transforming of some stories into dramas for acting. A
kind teacher, who sympathized in my strong love of the comic, described
me as "the busiest of all creatures in doing nothing."
_Socially_, I was good-natured and sympathizing, so that my jokes and
tricks were never such as to tease or annoy others.
_Morally_, I had a strong sense of justice, but was not naturally so
conscientious as some of the other children. Add to these, persevering
energy, great self-reliance, and such cheerful hopefulness that the idea
of danger or failure never entered my head. Even to this day, perfect
success and no mischances are always anticipated till reason corrects
the calculation.
Thus constituted, my strict religious training made little impression,
for I rarely heard any thing of that which seemed so dull and
unintelligible. Up to the age of sixteen my conceptions on this subject
were about these: that God made me and all things, and was very great,
and wise, and good; that he knew all I thought and did; that because
Adam and Eve disobeyed him _once_ only, he drove them out of Eden, and
then so arranged it that all their descendants would be born with wicked
hearts, and that, though this did not seem either just or good, it was
so; that I had such a wicked heart that I could not feel or act right in
any thing till I had a new one; that God only could give me a new heart;
that, if I died without it, I should go to a lake of fire and brimstone,
and be burned alive in it forever; that Jesus Christ was very good, and
very sorry for us, and came to earth, and suffered and died to save us
from this dreadful doom; that _revivals_ were times when God, the Holy
Spirit, gave people new hearts; that, when revivals came, it was best to
read the Bible, and pray, and go to meetings, but that at other times it
was of little use. This last was not taught, but was my own inference.
My mind turned from all this as very disagreeable. When led by my
parents and Christian friends to it, I tried to do as they told me,
because I saw they were anxious and troubled, and I wished to relieve
them. Two or three times, when I saw my father so troubled, I took
_Doddridge's Rise and Progress of Religion_, and tried to go through the
process there laid down, but with utter failure. Meantime, I rarely
heard any prayers or sermons, and at fifteen I doubt if the whole of my
really serious thoughts and efforts would, except the above, have
occupied a whole hour.
In the earlier periods of my religious training, my parents, in their
instructions, and also my little hymns and catechisms, made the
impression that God loved little children, and, though he was angry when
they did wrong, he was pleased when they did right; and, as parental
government was tender and loving, my impression of the feelings of the
heavenly Parent were conformed to this, my past experience.
But when, in more mature years, I came under the influence of "revival
preaching," all this impression seemed to be reversed. I was taught to
look at God as a great "moral governor," whose chief interest was "to
sustain his law." Then there seemed to be two kinds of right and wrong,
the "common" and the "evangelical." According to this distinction, I
could not feel or do any thing that was right or acceptable _to God_
till my birth-gift of a depraved heart was renewed by a special divine
interposition.
Meantime, there did not seem to be any direct and practical way of
securing this supernatural interference; for it was to be the result,
not of any efforts of mine, nor were any divine promises or
encouragements offered to secure my efforts. On the contrary, the
selection of the recipients of this favor was regulated by a divine
decree of "election," without reference to any acts of a being who did
nothing but evil, and only evil, till this favor was bestowed. Moreover,
all the exhortations to effort were based simply on the fact that,
ordinarily, those who took a certain course were selected, though I
perceived that sometimes those who did the least were chosen, while
those who did the most were passed by.
It was this view of the case that had the chief influence in leading to
an entire neglect of all religious concerns. It was so nearly like a
matter of mere chance, and there seemed so little adaptation of means to
ends, that, to one so hopeful, and, at the same time, so practical,
there was very little motive of any kind to lead to a religious life.
The first real earnest feeling I ever had on this subject was when my
tender mother died--such a mother as earth has seldom seen; as strong in
intellect as she was modest and gentle in manners, and loving and
sympathizing in heart. She left seven children younger than myself, one
of them a babe, and I only sixteen. I really tried, for some time, to
become a Christian, till the load of grief was alleviated by time, and
then such efforts ceased; but these new responsibilities turned my
practical habits into useful channels.
Once after this, when "a revival" seemed closing, and my father
expressed his distress for my indifference, I told him I was so happy I
could not do any thing but enjoy life, and that _nothing but trials and
sorrow_ would do me any good. Tears came into his eyes as he said, "Dear
child, must I die too?" The responsive tears came to my eyes, but soon
all was forgotten.
At this time my theory of morals was, that to lie, steal, swear,
quarrel, disobey parents, and break the Sabbath, were sins for which I
should feel guilty; but for not becoming a Christian, when I could not
understand how to do it, never rested on my conscience as a sin, but was
felt to be simply a misfortune. And I wondered, if God desired that I
should have a new heart, and he only could give it, why he did not do
so. This was the amount of my "reasoning" so far. Till nearly twenty, I
gained little knowledge except by intercourse with intelligent people,
for still I had no love for solid reading or study. At about that age, I
remember turning over Reid's work on Mental Science, in which my mother
had been deeply interested, and wondering how people could read such
stuff.
At twenty that betrothal took place, so soon and so tragically ended! It
was the realization of all my favorite dreams of earthly bliss.
Affection, taste, ambition, every thing most desirable to me and to
family friends, seemed secured. In a few months all was ended, and in
the most terrible and heart-rending manner.
After the first stunning effect was over, the next feeling was, "This is
that indispensable sorrow! this is to save me from _eternal death_!" And
so, as soon as I could do any thing, I began a course of religious
reading, prayer, and mental conflict. I tried to remedy that pernicious
mental habit of reverie and castle-building; I tried to do I knew not
what in "becoming a Christian."
Shut up in entire seclusion, all my dearest hopes forever crushed,
without hope or object in life, overwhelmed with grief, horrified less
at his dreadful death than at the awful apprehensions he himself had
imparted that he was unprepared to die, I spent week after week in
reading the stern and powerful writings of President Edwards, Dwight's
System of Theology, and other similar works. I hoped for nothing, cared
for nothing but to become a Christian. Yet no one could tell me
intelligibly how to do it, while it was clear that all expected nothing
from my efforts, and that all was dependent on a divine efflatus that
was to change the birth-gift of a depraved heart.
And yet I was told that the fault was all my own; that it was my
obstinate _unwillingness_ to do what was required that alone made it
needful for God to interfere. This was urged as a doctrine from God, and
so, though it seemed as if I was not only willing, but that I longed for
this change, I submitted my humble intellect to His, and owned that it
must be so. So passed several dark and weary months.
Next, I went to visit the parents of the friend I had lost. Here I read
his private records of _years_ of almost superhuman effort to govern his
mind, and to achieve the very thing I was laboring for, and yet, to his
mind, all ended in entire failure; and this, too, without any murmuring,
or any accusation of any one but himself. It was, as he maintained,
because he was so ungrateful, so hardened, so obstinately "unwilling,"
so averse from God and his service. And yet he was the model of every
domestic, social, and official virtue; so reverent to God, so tender as
a son and brother, so conscientious and faithful as an instructor! In
not a single duty did he fail that the closest intimacy could discover;
and yet, by his own showing, he had no love to God, and was entirely
"unwilling" to love and serve him.
At the same time, I found his intelligent, tender, heart-broken mother
had for years been living just such a conscientious life, without any
hope that she was a Christian, while now her pride and darling son was
lost to her forever on earth, and oh! where was he? and where should she
meet him at last? And thus she died. The only brother, too, so
conscientious and exemplary, was and long continued in the same same
position of mind.
These revelations took away all hope of any good from any farther
efforts of mine. At this period I almost lost my reason. For some days I
thought I should go distracted. The first decided "change of mind" I now
recall was an outburst of indignation and abhorrence. I remember once
rising, as I was about to offer my usual, now hopeless prayer, with a
feeling very like this: that such a God did not deserve to be loved;
that I would not love him if I could, and I was glad I did not! It was
but momentary, and the long training of years resumed its sway.
It was at this period that I framed my first attempt at serious argument
in a letter to my father. I took this position, that our own
_experience_ and _consciousness_ were the highest kind of evidence of
our mental power, and that I had this evidence of my mental inability to
love God as required. My father's reply was published in the _Christian
Spectator_, and was regarded as masterly and unanswerable. Its chief aim
was to lessen confidence in my own consciousness, and to show that, as
God was just and good, and certainly did require supreme love to him, we
had the power to obey. I was unable to meet the argument, and so allowed
that it must be so, and that all that was in my way was my own obstinate
"unwillingness."
But there was another point about which I attempted to reason that I did
not give up so easily. According to the theory of "obstinate
unwillingness," there was nothing in the Bible by way of promise, or
even encouragement, for any like me. For how could God feel sympathy for
obstinate rebels, or how make promises of hope and encouragement to
those whose only difficulty was an unreasonable dislike to God and his
service? Such texts as I quoted to the contrary (as Prov. 2:1-6; Matth.
7:7; John 4:10) were not for such as I, but for those already converted;
and no prayers, even, were acceptable till offered by a renewed heart.
So it seemed impossible, in any case, to pray acceptably to God for the
greatest of all boons, redemption from the awful doom of eternal death;
for at regeneration the blessing was already given, and before that act
no prayer was acceptable. So there was no place for such a prayer. This
I never accepted, though I did not quite venture to oppose it.
At one time my mind turned with longing and tender emotions toward Jesus
Christ. All he said and did appeared so reasonable and so kind that it
seemed to me he would hear my prayers. I brought, to sustain this idea,
the case of the young man whom "Jesus loved" when he had no religion.
Here I was met by a theory that, till now, had not attracted my notice,
which was, that there was a human soul in Christ joined to the Divine
mind, and that it was this human soul that felt this "human sympathy"
for sinners, and _bore all the suffering_, while the Deity had nothing
but calm, unmingled bliss. This made me feel that I could love the human
soul, but could not love God. Indeed, the sufferings of this innocent
Savior, _unshared by God_, was the most revolting of all.
At the close of a long year of such darkness and suffering, I went to my
friends in Boston, where "a _revival_" was in progress, and where I met
my father. Here I received the most tender sympathy, was taken to
prayer-meetings, and every thing was said and done that piety and love
could devise for my relief, but all in vain.
Finally, I came to this attitude of mind: "I will not try any more to
understand any thing about these doctrines. I will not try any more to
'be convinced of sin' in this inability to love God. Something is the
matter: it does not seem like obstinate 'unwillingness;' but if God says
so, I will take his word for it. I will assume that He is just, and
wise, and good, in spite of all that seems to contrary. I will try to do
all He commands the best I can. _There must be a dreadful mistake
somewhere_, but I will trust and obey, and wait quietly for light." At
this time my father gave me some little hope. I knew not why, for I did
not "love God" according to any of the ordinary tests. But I was
encouraged to hope that my heart was "renewed," and I shortly after made
a public profession of religion in my father's church.
During my residence with the friends referred to, I attempted the duties
of a teacher to two young daughters of the family, and, to prepare
myself, for the first time set my mind to real hard study. In five weeks
I went through a large Arithmetic, of which I knew almost nothing; in
seven weeks I completed Day's Algebra. Two schoolbooks on Chemistry and
Natural Philosophy were also mastered that gloomy winter. I had no other
resource within or without for so active a mind. Then my father urged
me, for the sake of a sister, as my own pecuniary wants had been
provided for, to commence a school in Hartford. As I taught only half a
day, and "the higher branches" were but just entering female schools, I
found no difficulty in keeping sufficiently ahead of my pupils. Thus
commenced my career as a teacher.
I went on several years with no other evidence of "love to God," which
was the main test of "regeneration," but perseverance in the
determination to assume that He was wise, just, and good, and to do all
I could to obey him. My great aim in life was to find out what He
required from the Bible, and then to try to do it as well as I could.
Besides this, I imitated the methods of Christian worthies. I kept a
religious diary--read religious books--went to religious meetings--prayed
in my school, and taught religion to my pupils as it had been taught to
me. Often, when I found suffering young minds embarrassed by my own
difficulties, willing and anxious to do all in their power, and yet
unable to feel as required, I almost lived over past anguish of spirit,
and could scarcely nerve myself to instruct them that all the wrong was
their own "obstinate unwillingness." There was a constant conflict
between the theories to which I had bowed my intellect, and thought I
really believed, and the impulses of my moral nature and common sense.
Sometimes these questions were intolerably imperative. What evidence is
there that what God says is _true_, when He claims to be wise, and just,
and good, when He has done such contradictory things? For a single act,
done six thousand years ago, the _first_ act of disobedience too, He has
so constituted things that all the human minds that might be made right
are formed so "_depraved_" as that not one of them will ever be
"willing" to love and obey the Creator till He "_renews_" their minds.
If I were to act thus, I should think it right for every one to believe
I was cruel and unjust until I showed good reasons for it. And if I saw
any one ruining the minds of young children, or permitting Adam or any
one else to do it, when I had power to prevent it, I should say it was
right to consider him an abominable and hateful being till he showed
good reasons for such a course.
Such thoughts were banished by the force of a strong will, and I
continued to hold on to the Bible as a revelation from God, and to His
claims as being wise, and just, and good. My renewed decision was,
"There is some _dreadful mistake somewhere_; but I will take God's word
and trust it, do the best I can, and wait till all is made clear."
In the later periods of life, a mode of religious training has come
repeatedly under my observation, to which a brief reference will here be
made. I have known children, no more favorably endowed than myself, and
some of them less so, whose parents were no more earnest and faithful
than mine, though on a different theory.
These children were first trained to prompt, unquestioning, and
universal obedience to their parents' commands, almost such as is
required by their Creator to his fixed and unalterable laws. At the same
time they were treated with the greatest tenderness and sympathy, and as
soon as they could understand the reasons for parental requirements,
these reasons were given, but always with the understanding that
implicit obedience must often be rendered without understanding the
reasons. When these habits of confiding and affectionate obedience were
formed, then they were taught that Jesus Christ was the Maker, Friend,
and Father of all, who loved all his children as these parents loved
their little ones, only more and better; that He created them to be
happy, rejoiced to see them so, and was always sorry for them in every
trouble.
They were taught that there are _right_ ways and _wrong_ ways of seeking
to be happy; that Jesus Christ came into this world to teach us what are
these right and wrong ways, and that His instructions are written in the
Bible; that it is very difficult to feel and act right in all things;
that, when children _try_ to do so, the Savior is pleased with them,
and, though they see him not, is present with them to help them; that,
when they fail, and feel or act wrong, he is grieved, as their parents
are, and as ready to forgive and help them, when they too are sorry, and
continue to try to do right in all things; that _they are Christians
just so far as they succeed in obeying Christ_, and that, the more they
try, the more help they will have, and the better they will succeed.
Thus these children grew up with the feeling that whenever they did any
thing that was kind, honest, honorable, just, and self-denying, they
were pleasing, not only their parents, but their best and ever-present
Friend. Under such a course, the varied duties of religion and of social
and domestic life were gradually not only explained, but _enforced_,
both by parental authority and example, till a character and habits were
formed that were far more consistent with the New Testament exhibitions
of Christian life than is often seen among mature Christians.
Without at present expressing any other opinion in regard to this
method, I am strong in the belief that if this course had been pursued
with me in childhood, very different mental habits would have been the
result, and that the Christian life would have begun and progressed
probably before the severe discipline of sorrow came, and certainly
after it had been experienced.
At the same time, there is a deep conviction that many of my young
pupils, who turned away from religion as uninviting, severe, and
unintelligible, would, by another method, have been easily led into the
true paths of pleasantness and peace.
I wish now to exhibit the influence of one doctrine (which I claim to be
that of reason as truly as of revelation) on a mind like mine. I have
stated something of that hopeful, elastic, and happy temperament that
seemed to make sorrow so indispensable to the development of my noblest
powers. But the earthly sorrow, time and new interests would have
remedied ere youth had passed. But that awful doctrine of THE ETERNAL,
IRREMEDIABLE LOSS OF THE SOUL, so ground into my spirit by years of
effort, of which this was the mainspring, has been the grand motive
power of my whole life ever since. If I could in any way have satisfied
myself that a time would come, however distant, when all sufferers would
be repaid by eternal ages of bliss, and all the guilty, however long
their period of purgation, would at last be pure and happy _forever_, I
should have returned to life and its enjoyments with fresh zest after
such a period of privation. But I could not gain any such assurance
without the Bible, but rather the reverse; while all the life and
teachings of Christ and the Apostles seemed entirely based on the
assumption that our whole race were in awful danger, that some were to
be saved and some were to be _lost_ _forever_, and that the great end
for which Christ lived, and for which his followers are to live, is to
SAVE AS MANY AS POSSIBLE from this awful doom.
Indeed, I could not see how any one could feel any respect for the
teachings of Christ when such terrible things were uttered by him, if
there was no just reason thus to terrify and alarm mankind. Times
without number, I went over the New Testament to see if I could find any
_honest_ way of escaping that doctrine, and always ending with a deeper
and more awful conviction of its reality. The result was, that while,
for the first year, I was driven to such mental effort and suffering to
save myself, as soon as the least hope dawned that I was safe, all that
was kindly and sympathizing in my nature led me to renewed efforts to
save others.
After such a lesson of inability, both in my own case and that of such
dear friends, no words can express the ineffable pity, sympathy, and
almost horror with which I looked on the world around me. And when young
and happy minds, such as once was my own, came under my training, I
never felt any need of being "waked up," as some Christian people seemed
to do. It only seemed to me I could never sleep. There never has been an
hour for thirty years when a moment's consideration of this awful
doctrine would not drive away every temptation to earthly ambition, or
any longings for earthly good of any sort for myself. Many times, when,
by the presentation of such an awful theme, I have brought the young to
me with tears and willing docility, and when, to the question "What can
we do to be saved?" my shut-up heart was ready to exclaim "Nothing," I
have been so burdened and worn as to be obliged to pray to forget, and
to take every lawful mode to turn my thoughts to other less exciting
themes. It was at such times I understood for what the love of the comic
was implanted, and if all Christians should feel as I do, what might be
the legitimate use of works of fiction, the drama, and the dance. In
such a case, and properly regulated, they would be needful and only
beneficial alteratives.
I wish now to ask my theological friends to consider the character of my
inner life. In all outward manifestations I took the theory of religion
trained into me, and did my best to believe it, and talked, and wrote,
and prayed, and acted before others on the assumption of its truth. But
my inner life was after this fashion: as to prayer in private, I found
great comfort in the preface to the Lord's prayer, "_After this manner_
pray ye." It was a short, comprehensive prayer, which amounted to this,
that God's will might be done on earth as in heaven; that our temporal
wants might be supplied; that we might do right and escape evil. This I
could sincerely feel and pray when all _details_ distressed me. But,
still better, this prayer began, "Our _Father_." Now to me, through my
whole life, this word "father" had been associated with unparalleled
tenderness, sympathy, and love; with truth, justice, and all that was
lovable. I could not apply it to God without such associations, and so
it comforted me--and that was all. But the prayers, hymns, and sermons
conformed to the _theory_ of religion were occasions when I had to
struggle with feelings of disgust and abhorrence. Especially, at times,
was this so in reference to the _atoning_ _sacrifice of Jesus Christ_,
until I formed a curious mental habit of letting these things pass
through my mind as something I did not understand, and then there seemed
to flow in a vague impression of something better, I knew not what.
In the progress of years I came to instruct some of the most vigorous
and active minds I ever saw, both in mental science and in the
interpretation of the Bible, and thus gradually evolved and applied "the
principles of reason and rules of interpretation" in this work. The
results will mainly appear in what follows.
Up to this time, my feelings toward God (except sometimes when praying,
as above described) were that, as He has said he was wise, and just, and
good, I would take his word for it, in spite of all the evidence to the
contrary, and feel and act as he required as far as I had power. My
service, however, was much like that of a slave to a hard master. If
"the _fear_ of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom," I certainly began
aright.
But the whole force of my being was turned, not toward Him, but toward
my lost, and suffering, and darkened fellow-beings. And when all my
darkness was removed, and by a simple intellectual process of
argumentation I drew from His Holy Word all my soul had longed for, my
chief joy was, not that I was safe, not that I could feel emotions of
love to Him, but that _He felt as I did_ for this all-absorbing purpose
and end of my existence--to save my fellow-men.
Some minds seem to begin religious life with such emotions of love to
the Creator as makes it easy to carry out the purpose to obey him. In my
case, I began with the cool intellectual purpose to obey him, while it
was _love_, not to Him, but to my fellow-men, that made it easy to carry
out this purpose of obedience. But, in both cases, was it not the
_spirit of obedience_ that was the grand requisite? The _all-controlling
purpose of acting right_, by obeying all the laws of the Creator as
discovered by the light of Nature, or by His revealed Word--is not
_this_ the distinctive feature that marks the "_regenerated_" soul?
It is theological _theories_, forced on mankind through popes, emperors,
and church councils, by pains and penalties, which has mystified that
grand question of life, "What must we do to be saved?" so that the
answer to almost every other practical question is more clear than this.
What do the great masses of men suppose that _they themselves_ are to do
if ever they become "regenerated?" Multitudes imagine that, by going to
camp-meetings, or conference meetings, or in "revivals," some Divine
efflux will come over them, of which the chief evidence is that the mind
is filled with joy, or other delightful emotions. Others deem it a
mysterious change, that takes place sometimes in sleep, without any
voluntary act of the individual. Others suppose it to consist in certain
emotions or mental acts, in reference to Jesus Christ, that come by
divine influence. Others consider it an act of the intellect and will,
of which emotions may be the preceding state, or may follow as a result.
Probably the vast majority regard it as a mysterious indescribable
event, that no one can understand till it is experienced, and which can
not be made intelligible to an "unrenewed mind."
Thousands of excellent, conscientious persons are moving about with dark
minds and heavy hearts, who would instantly become happy and consistent
followers of Christ if these theories could be removed from their minds,
and they were sure that an earnest spirit of obedience to Jesus Christ
is what is required; to which the promises of hope and encouragement are
made; which is the highest evidence of regeneration, and the chief
feature of that "love to God" required; while all emotions, frames, and
feelings are nothing without it. Thousands of children and young
persons, religiously trained, are held back from a religious life
because it is conceived of as so mysterious, uninviting, and painful
that they can neither understand or desire it. At the same time, it is
true that, _after children have been trained wrong_, so that bad habits
of mind are dominant, the clear understanding of this subject will not,
in many cases, make it easy for them to commence a religious life, or
make it look desirable.
The fearful sanctions of eternity can not very directly be brought to
bear on the minds of young children without great risk of entirely false
impressions. We see, in the Old Testament, that when God was training _a
race_, in the infancy of its development He made visible appearances,
used temporal motives, and made no appeals to the sanctions of the
invisible world. Like the parents just referred to, his first aim seemed
to be to teach _habits of obedience_ to God's temporal laws, while, at
the same time, He displayed his sympathy, mercy, and love. And among his
ancient people men became his obedient children by just such training as
is now best fitted to young children.
But when the race was farther advanced, so as to be able to act more by
reason and on _general principles_, and when His religion, by new
motives and forces, was to be extended from one nation to all the world,
_then the Creator came himself_; and while disclosing those most
terrific sanctions of the invisible world, at the same time exhibited
such a manifestation of His pity, sympathy, and _self-sacrificing love_
as renders these terrors safe and effective in such a conjuncture, as
they would not be without.
With these two classes of motives thus intensified, such a moral power
has been generated, leading to self-denying efforts to educate and save
mankind, as never existed before. In the case of the writer, the power
of these terrible sanctions _alone_ has been illustrated. In other
cases, the power of Christ's love and example have been the leading
motives. It is the _union of both_, clearly appreciated, and especially
brought to bear on those who form the character of childhood and youth,
that eventually is to renew the whole race, and bring every human being
to perfect obedience to _all_ the laws of the Creator.
* * * * *
In the investigation which originated at the time the writer commenced
teaching mental philosophy in connection with the Bible, this was the
first point to which attention was led, "What is that '_reason_' or
'_common sense_' which is so often appealed to as the umpire in
religion, morals, and interpretation?" All the works of mental science
within reach were examined, but it was long before any clear conceptions
on this question were gained, and still longer before any _test_ was
evolved that seemed a _practical_ one, as it is presented in this work.
Not that these principles and the test are not indicated by
metaphysicians in various forms of language, but that there is such a
confusing variety of expression, and all is so presented as a
_speculative_ instead of a _practical_ question, that years elapsed
before that use of these principles which this work illustrates was
attained.
This is here referred to in explanation of future passages that
otherwise might seem to imply that the author assumes to have discovered
something not before known or recognized by metaphysicians. The very
writings of Dr. Reid, which, in early life, were turned over with wonder
that any one could be interested in them, probably contain the most
complete and clear exhibition of these principles, and also recognize
the _test_ by which they are to be established. The writings of Sir
William Hamilton exhibit other, but less practical tests of these
principles.
Until the printing of this volume was nearly complete, it was the plan
of the author to have the whole work issued at once; and, with reference
to this whole, its title was THE BIBLE AND THE PEOPLE, OR COMMON SENSE
APPLIED TO RELIGION. But, after submitting this portion of the work to
criticism, it was concluded to issue only one volume, and to wait until
it was seen what reception the _principles_ it offered would meet. In
consequence of this, it seemed proper to transpose the title, as the
latter portion of it best describes the contents of the first volume.
This accounts for what is unusual in paging and in the running title on
the left-hand pages.
THE
BIBLE AND THE PEOPLE.
CHAPTER I.
THE GRAND QUESTIONS OF LIFE.
We are now living through the period of demolition. In morals, in social
life, in politics, in medicine, and in religion, there is a universal
upturning of foundations.
But the day of reconstruction seems to be looming in the orient, and now
the grand question is, Are there any sure and universal principles that
will evolve a harmonious system in which all shall agree? Or, is the
only unity to be anticipated that which results from the unsatisfactory
conclusion that all must "agree to disagree?"
The first alternative is believed to be in our future; and it is hoped
that this volume will contribute something toward evolving such
principles of reconstruction.
In some happily constituted minds and singularly favorable
circumstances, the passages of this life are almost uniformly happy, and
no clouds ever shut out the sunshine of a cheerful existence.
But, as a general rule, the farther we advance in life, the more solemn
become our convictions that its experiences are stormy, sad,
disappointing, and unsatisfactory. And the nobler the mind and the more
exalted its aspirations, the more surely are these lessons read and
understood.
If we turn aside from the lower haunts of poverty, vice, and crime, and
look only at the more favored classes, we find men toiling for years and
years to build up schemes which, in some sudden shock, crumble and pass
away; or, are their high hopes accomplished, some bitter ingredient
mingles with the cup of success, that turns it to gall.
And so, in heart-histories, the tenderest ties are formed, as it would
seem, only to be wrenched and torn. The young heart gives its fresh
impassioned love to its appropriate object, and, just at the happy
consummation, death or desertion forever ends life's brightest
experience.
The young parents receive their first-born with untold rapture, and then
some disease or accident turns it to a hopeless idiot or ceaseless
sufferer.
The young husband lays at once his first love and his first born in the
same grave. The tender parents spend years and years of care and effort
to rear a darling child, and at the culmination of their hopes the
flower is cut down.
Business or misfortune severs those whose chief happiness would be to
live together. The long-tried friends of early life are thrown into
painful antagonisms that end their friendship. The conflicts of interest
and party develop conduct and character that shatter confidence in men
and tempt to misanthropy.
In short, there are seasons when a thoughtful and tender spirit is
tempted to feel as if some malignant power were commissioned to seek out
all that is most beautiful, harmonious, and delightful in the experience
of our race, only to imbitter, confound, and destroy.
And even where the experience of life has been the most favorable, as
its closing years come on early friends pass away, the capacities and
resources of enjoyment diminish, and the dim cloud that shrouds the
closing vista awakens solemn and anxious meditations on the untried and
silent future. Such experiences bring forth the heart-yearning questions
that come, as it were, from the united voice of sad and suffering
humanity:
"Is there a God that controls the destinies of man? If so, what are his
character and designs? Is this sad life our only portion, or shall we
live beyond the grave? If there is another life before us, what
influence has our conduct and character here on its solemn destinies?
Are we left to our own unaided faculties to reason out from the nature
of things around us the replies to these momentous questions, or has the
Author of our being given some direct revelation to guide us?
If such a revelation exists, is it made accessible to all, or must one
portion of our race necessarily depend on fallible and interested
interpreters?
Does this revelation agree with reason and experience, and does it
contain all that we need both for safe guidance and for peace of mind?"
It is believed that, in the following pages, it will be seen that every
mind, of even only ordinary capacity, is furnished with the means of
answering all these questions, and with as much certainty as appertains
to the ordinary practical questions of this life.
At the same time, it will appear that most of the difficulties and
diversities of opinions in religious matters have mainly resulted from
neglecting these means of obtaining truth and peace, and that the "good
times coming" are all depending on the proper use of these means.
As introductory to the first main topic, it is important to refer to the
fact that, in all languages, man is recognized as possessing what is
called _reason_. He is called a _reasonable_ being and a _reasoning_
being, and it is claimed that it is his reason that places him at the
head of creation in this world.
Again, in discussions on truth and duty, all men seem to agree that
there is such a thing as _reason_, and that it is, more or less, to be
made the umpire in settling all disputed points. It is true that very
few seem to have a clear and definite idea of what this reason is, or
how it is to be made an umpire. But all allow that there is such a
thing, and that it has a very important office in deciding questions of
truth and duty.
Then, again, among more scientific men, we hear constant reference made
to our "intuitions" and our "intuitive knowledge," as if there were some
fixed truths which are superior to all others. It is true, that when we
come to inquire specifically as to what are these intuitions, we often
find them to be acquired notions, and sometimes such as are unsupported
by any evidence, or even contrary to the best kind of evidence.
Nevertheless, those who use these terms all agree in the fact that there
are "intuitions" and "intuitive knowledge," which are superior to any
other kinds of knowledge, and involve a certainty of conviction which no
reasoning can overthrow.
Then, as we advance still higher in the world of letters, we find
metaphysicians and philosophers assuming that a belief in certain truths
is implanted in all rational minds by the Creator as a necessary part of
their constitution, and that these truths are the foundation of most of
our acquired knowledge. The truths or principles of mind thus recognized
are called by various names, such as _reason_, the _principles of
reason_, the _primary truths_, the _intuitions_, the _intuitive truths_,
the _fundamental truths_, the _principles of common sense_, the
_categories_, etc.
The grand difficulty on this subject has been, that while all agree in
the existence of such implanted truths, there has never been any _test_
for deciding which are these truths, in distinction from our acquired
notions.
It is the object of the succeeding chapter to present the most important
of these truths, and also to set forth an infallible test by which they
may be distinguished from every other kind of knowledge.
And this attempt is made with a full conviction that success in such an
effort is to be the foundation of that harmony of reconstruction which
has been indicated as provided for the future.