great room for the indulgence of our likings. So little being fixed with
any precision, we can shape our beliefs to please ourselves. Even as
regards the sensible world, we can sometimes accommodate our views to
what we wish, as when we assume that our favourite foods and stimulants
are wholesome; but such license soon meets with checks in the physical
sphere, while there are no such checks in the realms of the
superphysical.
Now, in all these three departments of opinion, the interest of mankind
lies in obtaining the best views that can possibly be obtained. As
regards the first and third--- the region of true and false, one in the
sensible, the other in the supersensible world--we are clearly
interested in getting the truth. As regards the second--the region of
ends--if there be one class of ends preferable to another, we should
find out that class.
The only doubt that can arise anywhere is, whether in the third case--the
case of the supernatural,--truth is of the same consequence to us. Such
a doubt, however, begs the whole question at issue. If the truth be of
no consequence here, it is because we shall never be landed in any
reality corresponding to what is declared: that the nature of the future
life is purely imaginary and not to be converted into fact; in other
words, that there is no future life; that there is merely a land of
dreams and fiction, which can never be proved true and never proved
false. It would then be a projection of thought from the present life,
and would cease with that life. All that people could claim in the
matter would be the liberty of imagination; and this being so, we are
not to be committed to any one form. In short, we are to picture what we
please in a world that cannot be made out to exist. The point is not, to
be true or false; it is, to be well or ill imagined.
What, then, is to be the criterion of proper or improper imagination? On
what grounds are we to make our preference between the different schemes
of the supersensible world? Is each one of us to be free to imagine for
ourselves, or are we to submit to the dictation of others? These
questions lead up to another. How far are the interests of the present
life concerned in the form given to our conceptions of a future life?
It would seem to be an unanswerable assumption that, in all the three
situations above supposed, we should do the very best that the case
admits of. In the order of nature we should get, as far as possible, the
truth and the whole truth; in the choice of ends for this life we should
embrace the best ends; in the shaping of another life we should be free
to follow out whatever may be the course suitable to the operation.
* * * * *
[EARLY SOURCES OF INTOLERANCE.]
The means for arriving at truth in the order of nature is an active
search according to certain well-known methods. It farther involves the
negative condition of perfect freedom to canvass, to controvert, or to
refute, every received doctrine or opinion. There is no use in going
after new facts, or in rising to new generalities, if we are not to be
allowed to displace errors. This is now conceded, except at the points
of contact of the natural and the supernatural. In spite of the wide
separation of the two worlds--the world of fact and the world of
imagination,--we cannot conceive the second except in terms of the
first; and if the shaping of the supernatural acquires fixity and
consecration, the natural facts made use of in the fabric acquire a
corresponding fixity, even although the rendering is found to be
inaccurate. The prevailing conception of a future life needs a view of
the separate and independent subsistence of the mental powers of man,
very difficult to reconcile with present knowledge.
* * * * *
The growth of intolerance is quite explicable, but the explanation is
not necessarily a justification. Although every division of the human
family must have passed through many social phases, and must therefore
have experienced revolutionary shocks, yet the rule of man's existence
has been a rigorous fixity of institutions, with a hatred of change.
Innovations, when not the effect of conquest, would be made under the
pressure of some great crisis, or some tremendous difficulty that could
not otherwise be met. The idea of individuals being allowed, in quiet
times, to propose alterations in government, in religion, in morals, or
even in the common arts of life, was thought of only to be stamped out.
There was a step in advance of the ancient and habitual order of things,
when an innovating citizen was permitted to make his proposal to the
assembled tribe, with a rope about his neck, to be drawn tight if he
failed to convince his audience. This might make men think twice before
advancing new views, but it was not an entire suppression of them.
The first introduction of the great religions of the world would in each
case afford an interesting study of the difficulties of change and of
the modes of surmounting these difficulties. There must always have
concurred at least two things,--general uneasiness or discontent from
some cause or other; and the moral or intellectual ascendency of some
one man, whose views, although original, were yet of a kind to be
finally accepted by the people. These conditions are equally shown in
political changes, and are historically illustrated in many notable
instances. It is enough to cite the Greek legislation of Lycurgus and of
Solon.
Such changes are the exceptions in human affairs; they occur only at
great intervals. In the ordinary course of societies, the governing
powers not merely adhere to what is established, but forbid under severe
penalties the very suggestion of change. The chronic misery of the race
is compatible with unreasoning acquiescence in a state of things once
established; incipient reformers are at once immolated _pour encourager
les autres_. It is the aim of governments to make themselves
superfluously strong; they take precautions against unfavourable ideas
no less than against open revolt. In this, they are seconded by the
general community, which would make things too hot even for a reforming
king.
[SEPARATION OF RELIGION FROM POLITICS.]
It is said by the evolution or historical school of politicians, that
this was all as it should be. The free permission to question the
existing institutions, political and religious, would have been
incompatible with stability. In early society more especially, religion
and morality were a part of civil government; a dissenter in religion
was the same thing as a rebel in politics; the distinction between the
civil and the religious could not yet be drawn.
Without saying whether this was the case or not--for I should not like
to commit myself to the position, "Whatever was, was right" at the
time--I trust we are now far on the way to being agreed that the civil
and the religious are no longer to be identified; that the State, as a
state, is not concerned to uphold any one form of religious belief.
Modern civilized communities are believed capable of existing without
an official religion; the citizens being free to form themselves into
self-governed religious bodies, as various as the prevailing modes of
religious belief. It may be long ere this goal be fully reached; but
even the upholders of the present state religions admit that, supposing
these were not in existence, nobody would now propose to institute them.
* * * * *
The foregoing remarks may appear somewhat desultory, as well as too
brief for the extent of the theme. They must be accepted, however, as an
introduction to a more limited topic, which presupposes in some measure
the general principle of toleration by the state of all forms of
religious opinion. Whether with or without established religions,
perfect freedom of dissent is now demanded, and, with some hankering
reservations, pretty generally conceded. Individuals are allowed to
congregate into religious societies, on the most various and opposite
creeds.
So far good. Yet there remains a difficulty. Long before the age of
toleration, when each state had an established religion, the people in
general formed their habits of religious observance in connection with
the State Church--its doctrines, its ritual, its buildings, and its
sacred places. When disruption took place, the separatists formed
themselves into societies on the original model, merely dropping the
matters of disagreement. Fixity of creed and of ritual was still
enacted; the only remedy for dissatisfaction on either subject was to
swarm afresh, and set up a new variety of doctrine or of ritual, to
which a rigid adherence was still expected as a condition of membership.
By this costly and troublesome process, Churches have been multiplied
according to the changes of view among sections of the community. A
certain energy of conviction has always been necessary to such a result.
Equally great changes of opinion occur among members of the older Church
communities, without inducing them to break with these; so that nominal
membership ceases to be a mark of real adhesion to the articles of
belief.
* * * * *
[EVILS OF PENAL RESTRAINT ON DISCUSSION.]
These few commonplaces are meant to introduce the enquiry--now a
pressing one--whether, and how far, fixed creeds are desirable or
expedient in religious bodies generally; no difference being made
between state Churches and voluntary Churches. This is the question of
Subscription to Articles by the clergy.
Let us now review the evils attendant on subscription, and next consider
the objections to its removal.
In the first place, the process of restraining discussion by penal tests
is inherently untenable, absurd, and fallacious.
In support of this strong assertion, we have only to repeat, that every
man has an interest in getting at the truth, and consequently in
whatever promotes that end. We live by the truth; error is death. To
stand between a man and the attainment of truth, is to inflict an injury
of incalculable amount. The circumstances wherein the prohibition of
truth is desirable, must be extraordinary and altogether exceptional.
The few may have a self-interest in withholding truth from the many;
neither the few nor the many have an interest in its being withheld from
themselves. Each one of us has the most direct concern in knowing on
what plan this universe is constituted, what are its exact arrangements
and laws. Whether for the present life, or for any other life, we must
steer our course by our knowledge, and that knowledge needs to be true.
Obstruction to the truth recoils upon the obstructors. To flee to the
refuge of lies is not the greatest happiness of anybody.
It has been maintained that there are illusions so beneficial as to be
preferable to truth. Occasionally, in private life, we practise little
deceptions upon individuals when the truth would cause some great
temporary mischief. This case need not be discussed. The important
instance is in reference to religious belief. A benevolent Deity and a
future life are so cheering and consoling, it is said, that they should
be secured against challenge or criticism; they ought not to be weakened
by discussion. This, of course, assumes that these doctrines are unable
to maintain themselves against opponents, that, with all their intrinsic
charm (which nobody can be indifferent to), they would give way under a
free handling. Such a confession is fatal. Men will go on cherishing
pleasing illusions, but not such as need to be _protected_ in order to
exist. According to Plato, the belief in the goodness of the Deity was
of so great importance that it was to be maintained by state
penalties--about the worst way of making the belief efficacious for its
end. What should we think of an Act passed to imprison whoever disputed
the goodness of King Alfred, the Man of Ross, or Howard?
Granting that certain illusions are highly beneficial, it does not
follow that they are to be exempted from criticism. Their effect depends
on the prestige of their truth. That is, they must have reasons on their
side. But a doctrine is not supported by reasons, unless the objections
are stated and answered; not sham objections, but the real difficulties
of an enquiring mind. If the statement of such difficulties is forcibly
suppressed, the rational foundations will sooner or later be sapped.
[FREEDOM ESSENTIAL TO THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH.]
If illusions are themselves good, freedom of thought will give us the
best. Why should we protect inferior illusions against the discovery of
the superior? The unfettered march of the intellect may improve the
quality of our illusions as illusions, while also strengthening their
foundations. If religion be a good thing, the best religion is the best
thing; and we cannot be sure of having the best, if men are forbidden to
make a search.
Supposing, then, truth is desirable, the means to the end are desirable.
Now one of the means is perfect liberty to call in question every
opinion whatsoever. This is not all that is necessary; it is not even
the principal condition of the discovery of new truth. It is, however,
an indispensable adjunct, a negative condition. While laborious search
for facts, care in comparing them, genius in detecting deep identities,
are the highways to knowledge,--the permission to promulgate new
doctrines and to counter-argue the old is equally essential. Men cannot
be expected to go through the toil of making discoveries at the hazard
of persecution. If a few have done so, it is their glory and everybody
else's shame.
That the torch of truth should be shaken till it shine, is generally
admitted. Still, exceptions are made; otherwise the present argument
would be superfluous. On certain subjects there is a demand for
protection against innovating views. The implication is that, in these
subjects, truth is better arrived at by delegating the search to a few,
and treating their judgment as final. I need not ask where we should
have been, if this mode of arriving at truth had been followed
universally. The monopoly of enquiry claimed for the higher subjects,
if set up in the lower, would be treated as the empire of darkness.
Second. The subscription to articles, and the enforcement of a creed by
penalties, are nugatory for their own purpose; they fail to secure
uniformity of belief.
This is shown in various ways. For instance, to inculcate adhesion to
a set of articles, is merely to ensure that none shall use words that
formally deny one or other of the doctrines prescribed. It does not say,
that the subscriber shall teach the whole round of doctrines, in their
due order and proportion. A preacher may at pleasure omit from his
pulpit discourses any single doctrine; so that, in so far as his
ministrations are concerned, to the hearers such doctrine is
non-existent; without being denied, it is ignored. Against omission,
a prosecution for heresy would not hold. In this way, the clergy have
always had a certain amount of liberty, and have freely used it. In so
doing, they have altered the whole character of the prescribed creed,
without being technically heterodox. Everyone of us has listened to
preachers of this description. Some ignore the Trinity, some the
Atonement; many nowadays, without denying future punishment, never
mention hell to ears polite. If the rigorous exclusion of a leading
doctrine should excite misgivings, a very slight, formal, and passing
admission may be made, while the stress of exhortation is thrown upon
quite different points.
[SUBSCRIPTION FAILS TO ATTAIN ITS END.]
To attain a conviction for heresy, involving deprivation of office, the
forms of justice must be respected. It is only under peculiar
circumstances, that the ecclesiastical authority can be content with
saying, "I do not like thee, Dr. Fell, or Dr. Smith, and I depose thee
accordingly". A regular trial, with proof of specific contradiction of
specific articles, allowing the accused the full benefit of his
explanations, must be the rule in every corporation that respects
justice. In the Church of England, a man cannot be deprived unless he
contradict the articles clearly and consistently; the smallest
incoherence on his part, the slightest vacillation in the rigour of his
denial, is enough to save him. We may easily imagine, therefore, how
widely a clergyman may stray from the fair, ordinary, current rendering
of the doctrines of the Church, without danger. The whole essence of
Christianity may be perverted under a few cunning precautions and by
observing a few verbal formalities.
It has been pointed out, many times over, that the legally imposed
creeds were the creatures of accident and circumstances at the time of
their enactment, and are wholly unsuitable to the conservation of the
more permanent and essential articles of the Christian faith. The amount
of heresy, as against the more truly representative doctrines, that may
pass through their meshes is very great.
This weakness is aggravated by another--the want of any provision for
amending the creed from time to time. If it were desirable to adopt
measures for maintaining uniformity of opinions among the clergy, the
creed should be excised, or added to, according to the needs of every
age. That this is not done, shows that the machinery of tests is
altogether abnormal; it is not within the type of regular legislation.
That any given creed should be regarded as out of keeping, as both
redundant and defective, and yet that the ecclesiastical authority
should shrink from applying a remedy to its most obvious defects, proves
that the system itself is bad. All healthy legislation lends itself to
perpetual improvement; that the enactments of articles of belief cannot
be reconsidered, is a sign of rottenness.
A third objection to tests is, that mere dogmatic uniformity, if it were
more complete than any tests can make it, is at best but a part of the
religious character. It does nothing to secure or promote fervour,
feeling, the emotional element in religion. It is by moral heat, far
more than by its mould of doctrine, that religion influences mankind.
There is no means of censuring preachers for coldness or languid
indifference; or rather, there is another and more legitimate means than
penal prosecutions, namely, expressed dissatisfaction and the preference
of those that excel in the quality. A warm, glowing manner, an unctuous
delivery, commands hearers and conducts to popularity and importance.
The men of cold and unfeeling natures may get into office, but they are
lightly esteemed. They are not had up to a public trial and deposed, but
they are treated, and spoken of, in such a way as to discourage men of
their type from becoming preachers, and to encourage the other sort.
There are many qualifications that go to forming a good preacher; the
holding of the creed of the body is only one. Yet, with the exception of
gross immorality or abandonment of duty, correctness of creed is the
only one that is subjected to the extreme penalty of loss of office; the
others are secured by different means. Is it too much to infer that,
without the extreme penalty, a reasonable conformity to the prevailing
creed might also be secured?
[ELEMENT OF FEELING NOT SECURED.]
The importance of the element of feeling has been most perceived in
times when the religious current was strongest. At these times, its
expression would not be hemmed in by rigorous formulas. The first
communication of religious doctrines has always partaken of a broad and
free rendering; apparent discrepancies were disregarded. To reduce all
the utterances of the prophets and the apostles to definite forms and
rigid dogmas, was to misconceive the situation. We may well suppose that
the New Testament writers would have refused to subscribe the Athanasian
Creed or the Westminster Confession; not because these were in flat
contradiction to Scripture, but because the way of embodying the
religious verities in these documents would be repugnant to their ideas
of form in such matters. The creed-builders may have been never so
anxious to give exact equivalents of the original authorities; yet their
fine distinctions and subtle logic would have, in all probability, been
ranked by Paul and Peter among the latter-day perversions of the faith.
The very composition of a creed would have been as distasteful to the
first century, as it is incongruous to the nineteenth.
The evil operation of religious tests, and of the accompanying
intolerance of the public mind as shown towards any form of dissent from
the stereotyped orthodoxy, admits of a very wide handling. It is of
course the problem of religious liberty. Some parts of the argument need
to be reproduced here, to help us in replying to the objections against
an unconditional abolition of compulsory creeds.
In conversing, many years ago, with the late Jules Mohl, the great
Oriental scholar, professor of Persian in the College de France, I was
much struck with his account of the nature of his duties as an expounder
of the modern Persian authors. These authors, for example the poet Sadi,
were in creed adherents of the ancient Persian fire-worship,
notwithstanding the Mohammedan conquest of their country. They were, of
course, forbidden to avow that creed directly; and in consequence, they
had recourse to a form of composition by _doubles entendres_, veiling
the ancient creed under Mohammedan forms. Mohl's business, as their
expounder, was to strip off the disguise and show the true bearings of
the writers, under their show of conformity to the established opinions.
This is a typical illustration of what has happened in Europe for more
than two thousand years. The first recorded martyr to free speculation
in philosophy was Anaxagoras in Greece. Muleted in the sum of five
talents, and expelled from Athens, he was considered fortunate in being
allowed to retire to Lampsacus and end his days there. His fate,
however, was soon eclipsed by the execution of Socrates,--an event
whereby the Athenian burghers were enabled to bias the expression of
free opinions from that time to this. The first person to feel the shock
was Plato. That he was affected by it, to the extent of suppressing his
views on the higher questions, we can infer with the greatest
probability.
[CONSEQUENCES OF THE EXECUTION OF SOCRATES.]
Aristotle was equally cowed. A little before his death, the chief priest
of Eleusis, following the Socratic precedent, entered an indictment
against him for impiety. This indictment was supported by citations of
certain heretical doctrines from his published writings; on which Grote
makes the significant remark, that his paean in honour of his friend
Hermeias would be more offensive to the feelings of an ordinary Athenian
citizen than any philosophical dogma extracted from the _cautious prose
compositions_ of Aristotle. That is to say, the execution of Socrates
was always before his eyes; he had to pare his expressions so as not to
give offence to Athenian orthodoxy. We can never know the full bearings
of such a disturbing force. The editors of Aristotle complain of the
corruptness of his text; a far worse corruptness lies behind. In Greece,
Socrates alone had the courage of his opinions. While his views as to a
future life, for example, are plain and frank, the real opinion of
Aristotle on the question is an insoluble problem. Now, considering the
enormous sway of Aristotle in modern Europe,--how desirable was it that
his real sentiments had reached us unperverted by the Athenian burgher
and the hemlock!
It would be too adventurous to continue the illustration in detail
through the Christian ages. It is well known that the later schoolmen
strove to represent reason as against authority, but wrote under the
curb of the Papal power; hence their aims can only be divined. A modern
instance or two will be still more effective.