(1862.)
In discussions with “Infidels,” Churchmen are very ready with the taunt,
“You are but a handful of’ fanatics. Nearly the whole intellect of the
nation is for us and against you.” In general the taunt is merely
parried by a “What matter, if _we_ are right?” whereas it should also be
retorted by a counter-thrust of denial. For, in truth, but a very small
part of the intellect of the nation—_i.e._, intellect in the only sense
in which it is of importance—_active_ intellect, is devoted to the
Establishment or even to the Establishment and the so-called Dissenters
combined. If they only are the true soldiers of the Church militant whom
she spiritually feeds and equips for the warfare of life, and who are
loyal to her with their whole heart and mind, how many legions must be
deducted from the armies gathered round her banners before we can fairly
estimate her actual power in the field! Should Jesus come to eliminate
his true followers from the multitudes of professing Christians, as
Gideon selected his, three hundred from the two and thirty thousand
Israelites, let us consider whom he would reject.
_First_, all the cowards and hypocrites who simply cling to what appears
the dominant party, and who would therefore call themselves Atheists
were Atheism in the ascendant; a vile brood, the incumbrance and
disgrace of every cause they adopt; “hateful to God and to the enemies
of God”; of whom even to write is not pleasant.
_Secondly_, the indifferent through lack of vitality; men of tepid heart
and inert brain, who are incapable of any strong sane affection. I use
the word _sane_ because these creatures have intense self-love, which in
its essence is insane; and because also they may be frenzied by the
drunkenness of fanaticism, in which state they can die as devotedly as
they can murder atrociously. The adhesion of these also I count no gain
to any cause.
_Thirdly_, the indifferent through excess of vitality, including the
most eminent “practical” men, soldiers, sailors, lawyers, engineers,
statesmen. These, applying their whole energies to their several
professions, rarely trouble themselves with theological any more than
with other extraneous matters, but passively acquiesce in whatever creed
may be prevalent around them. Their real church is the world; their real
worship is labor; and they no more add to the strength of their nominal
church than did the _savants_ to that of Napoleon’s army in Egypt—those
_savants_ whom the wise Napoleon always ordered (with the donkeys) to
the centre whenever an attack was expected. To these must be added all
the men whom we call fine animals, who enjoy such a red-blooded life in
this world that they are not subject to bilious forebodings of another.
Some classes of the most famous men—the poets, philosophers, doctors,
physicists, mathematicians—are commanded by their very vocations to
think seriously on some of the great theological questions, and
therefore, whether ranged for or against the Church, count for
something. The reader must ask his memory whether their weight in the
balance has preponderated for orthodoxy or for heterodoxy. The statesmen
I have counted among the indifferent, because their support of religion,
in whatever form, has been almost universally no more than political.
_Fourthly_, the supersubtle, including laymen and divines of first-rate
talent; who cannot help delighting in the exercise of their skill of
fence, and who instinctively feel that it is much harder to champion any
existing institution than to attack it, and naturally (like all
unconquerable knights-errant) prefer the most difficult _devoir_. Their
adhesion to the Church, therefore, though seeming to strengthen it,
really proclaims its weakness. Macaulay tells us how Halifax, the
Trimmer, always joined the losing side.
_Fifthly_, the supremely reverential, including the very best of the
laymen and divines; men whose lofty reason is drowned in a yet deeper
faith, as mountain-peaks high as the highest in air are said to be
submerged in the abysses of the Atlantic. In many cases these might be
ranked in the preceding class; for it is a general rule that the more
reverence, the more subtlety. They see—how clearly!—the flaws and
imperfections of their Church, they even realise the danger of its total
fall; but they cannot tear themselves away from the venerable building
wherein all their forefathers worshipped, in whose consecrated precincts
all their forefathers were buried in hopes of a happy resurrection;
whose chants were the rapturous music and whose windows were the
heavenly glories of their pure childhood; whose prayers they repeated
night after night and morning after morning at their mother’s knee. Can
they leave this, with all its treasured holiness of antiquity for some
new bold glaring erection, wherein men certainly congregate ta talk
about God, but which might just as well be used as a warehouse or a
manufactory? No; rather than leave it they will believe, they will force
themselves to believe, that some miraculous renovation is at hand, or
that (as the structure was certainly raised by God) God will uphold it
in spite of the law of gravitation. These are the men who keep the
Church from falling into insignificance, but they are not essentially
hers. It is not she alone whom they could thus worship. Had they been
brought up idolators, idolatry must have retained almost the same
influence over spirits so reverentially humble, so loving and pure.
And here it may be remarked that one can scarcely conceive a Church so
frail and gloomy and even vile, but that a fervent soul and a strong
intellect could fortify it with argument, adorn it with the gold and
jewels of imagination, illustrate its dark altars and vivify its dead
idols with the burning fire of spirituality, until it should be far more
noble and mighty and splendid than ever was aspired to by the majority
of men. But mark, such men as these of whom I speak do not derive their
religiousness from, but really bestow it upon the Church in which they
pray. She is subject and indebted to them, not they to her. She does not
nourish them, they nourish her. She is the statue, they are Pygmalion.
And they are indeed idolators, for they worship a creation of their own
souls. Perhaps Pygmalion himself fell down and adored his flushed and
breathing statue, thinking her, with artist-reverence, nothing less than
a transformation of Venus Urania. When one thinks of certain noble men
and women—as Maurice and Kingsley, Ruskin and the Browning—devoting
themselves in spite of themselves to an effete faith, one is sadly
reminded of poor Abishag the Shunammite wasting and withering her
healthful youth to cherish old worn-out David, “who knew her not,” who
could fill her with no new life, and who was, despite her cherishing, so
certainly near death. He had been a great king in his time, but now his
time was past, and as it was now the maiden’s spring-time, he should
have left her to live her proper life.
But when all these are separated from the host, who are left to whom we
may point in answer to Emerson’s question, “In Christendom, where is the
Christian?” Strictly speaking there has never been but one Christian—the
man Christ Jesus. But I would give the title to those who thoroughly
believe the Bible after having investigated it to the best of their
power, who find its doctrines completely satisfy them, and who sincerely
endeavor to act up to those doctrines. How many of such are there? I
have known perhaps half a dozen. Has any reader known many more? Will
any one dare assert that they are more numerous in England than the
equally sincere Secularists or Atheists? I scarcely think any honest and
thoughtful person will.