However, one might reply, you take no care of his education, though
you are in no doubt that a good one would contribute infinitely to his
happiness; why, therefore, do not you consult some men of sense about
him, and read some of the works written on this subject? 'Why, because,'
says she, 'I think I know as much of this matter as those authors
and their works.' But how did you get this confidence in your own
understanding? Is it not the effect of your indifference? An ardent
desire always inspires us with a salutary distrust of ourselves. If we
have a suit at law of considerable consequence, we visit counsellors and
attorneys, we consult a great number, and examine their advice. Are we
attacked by any of those lingering diseases, which incessantly place
around us the shades and horrors of death? We seek physicians, compare
their opinions, read physical books, we ourselves become little
physicians. Such is the conduct prompted by a warm interest. With
respect to the education of children, if you are not influenced in the
same manner, it is because you do not love your son as well as
yourself. 'But,' adds the mother, 'what then should be the motive of my
tenderness?' Among fathers and mothers, I reply, some are influenced by
the desire of perpetuating their name in their children; they properly
love only their names; others are fond of command, and see in their
children their slaves. The animal leaves its young when their
weakness no longer keeps them in dependence; and paternal love becomes
extinguished in almost all hearts, when children have, by their age or
station, attained to independence. 'Then,' said the poet Saadi, 'the
father sees nothing in them but greedy heirs,' and this is the cause,
adds some poet, of the extraordinary love of the grandfather for his
grandchildren; he considers them as the enemies of his enemies. There
are, in short, fathers and mothers, who make their children their
playthings and their pastime. The loss of this plaything would be
insupportable to them; but would their affliction prove that they loved
the child for itself? Everybody knows this passage in the life of
M. de Lauzun: he was in the Bastile; there, without books, without
employment, a prey to lassitude and the horrors of a prison, he took it
in his head to tame a spider. This was the only consolation he had
left in his misfortune. The governor of the Bastile, from an inhumanity
common to men accustomed to see the unhappy, crushed the spider. The
prisoner felt the most cutting grief, and no mother could be affected
by the death of a son with a more violent sorrow. Now whence is derived
this conformity of sentiments for such different objects? It is because,
in the loss of a child, or in the loss of the spider, people frequently
weep for nothing but for the lassitude and want of employment into which
they fall. If mothers appear in general more afflicted at the death of
a child than fathers employed in business, or given up to the pursuit
of ambition, it is not because the mother loves her child more tenderly,
but because she suffers a loss more difficult to be supplied. The
errors, in my opinion, are, in this respect, very frequent; people
rarely cherish a child for its own sake. That paternal love of which so
many men make a parade, and by which they believe themselves so warmly
affected, is most frequently nothing more than an effect, either of a
desire of perpetuating their names, or of pride of command...... Do
you not know that Galileo was unworthily dragged to the prison of the
Inquisition, for having maintained that the sun is placed in the centre,
and does not move around the earth; that his system first offended the
weak, and appeared directly contrary to that text of Scripture--'Sun,
stand thou still?' However, able divines have since made Galileo's
principles agree with those of religion. Who has told you, that a
divine more happy or more enlightened than you, will not remove the
contradiction, which you think you perceive between your religion, and
the opinion you resolve to condemn! Who forces you by a precipitate
censure to expose, if not religion, at least its ministers, to the
hatred excited by persecution? Why, always borrowing the assistance of
force and terror, would you impose silence on men of genius, and deprive
mankind of the useful knowledge they are capable of dispensing? You
obey, you say, the dictates of religion. But it commands you to distrust
yourselves, and to love your neighbor. If you do not act in conformity
to these principles, you are then not actuated by the spirit of God.
But you say, by whom then are we inspired? By laziness and pride. It
is laziness, the enemy of thought, which makes you averse to those
opinions, which you cannot, without study and some fatigue of attention,
unite with the principles received in the schools; but which being
proved to be philosophically true, cannot be theologically false. It is
pride, which is ordinarily carried to a greater height in the bigot than
in any other person, which makes him detest in the man of genius the
benefactor of the human race, and which exasperates him against the
truths discovered by humility. It is then this laziness and this pride,
which, disguising themselves under the appearance of zeal, render them
the persecutors of men of learning; and which in Italy, Spain, and
Portugal, have forged chains, built gibbets, and held the torch to the
piles of the Inquisition. Thus the same pride, which is so formidable in
the devout fanatic, and which in all religions makes him persecute, in
the name of the Most High, the men of genius, sometimes arms against
them the men in power. After the example of those Pharisees, who treated
as criminals the persons who did not adopt all their decisions, how
many viziers treat, as enemies to the nation, those who do not blindly
approve their conduct!"
J. W.
FRANCES W. D'ARUSMONT.
The previous issues of this publication contain notices of the lives and
writings of men of eminence in the world of Freethought. This number
is devoted to a review of the career and works of a most talented and
accomplished lady--a Freethinker and Republican. As a proof--if any
proof were needed--that women, if adequately educated, are equally
capable with men to become teachers and reformers, the works of the
subject of present notice afford abundant evidence. The efforts now
being made to procure an adjustment of the laws relating to women,
whereby they will be protected in their property, and consequently
improved in their social position, deserve the support of all classes;
When females become independent, there will be less ignorance among
women and more happiness among men.
Frances Wright, afterwards Madame D'Arusmont, was a native of Dundee.
She was born on the 6th of September, 1795. She came of a wealthy
family, who had been extensive holders of city property from the year
1500. Her father was a man of considerable literary attainments, and to
his active antiquarian researches and donations the British Museum is
indebted for many rare and valuable coins and medals. He died young, as
also his wife, leaving three children--two girls and a boy. Frances
was then but two years and a half old. At the wish of her grandfather,
General Duncan Campbell, she was taken to England, and reared as a ward
of Chancery, under the guardianship of a maternal aunt. She grew to be
very tall in person, erect, and of a commanding figure; large eyes, and
magnificent head, with a face somewhat masculine, but well formed,
and decidedly handsome. Her brother was sent to India, at the age of
fifteen, as a cadet in the East India Company's service, and was killed
on the passage out in an encounter with a French vessel. Her sister
passed her life with her, and died in Paris in 1831.
At an early age, Miss Wright gave evidence of great intellectual
ability. The education she received was of a very superior kind. She
diligently applied herself to the various branches of science, and to
the study of ancient and modern letters and the arts, being impelled by
a strong desire for knowledge. At the age of nineteen, she published her
first work, "A Few Days in Athens." Her attention was early drawn to the
sufferings of the lower classes, and on reflection she became convinced
that some great vice lay at the foundation of the whole of human
practice: She determined to endeavor to discover, and assist in removing
it. She read Bocca's "History of the American Revolution," and resolved
to visit that country, it appearing to her young imagination as the
land of freedom and hope.--After having familiarised herself with the
government and institutions of America, she sailed for New York 1818.
She returned to England in 1820, and published a large volume, entitled
"Views of Society and Manners in America." It was dedicated to Jeremy
Bentham, and had a large sale. The work being translated into most of
the continental languages, she became known to the prominent reformers
of Europe.
In 1821, she made her first visit to Paris, and was there introduced
to General Lafayette, who, having previously read her work on America,
invited her to that city. A republican in all her views and hopes, she
was highly appreciated by Lafayette and other eminent supporters of the
liberal party in France.--She remained in Paris until 1824, when she
returned to the United States, and immediately undertook a project for
the abolition of slavery upon a plan somewhat different from any that
then engaged the attention of philanthropists. For this purpose she
purchased two thousand acres of land at Chickasaw Bluffe, (now
Memphis, Tennessee), intending to make a good farm rather than a cotton
plantation. She then purchased several slave families, gave them their
liberty, and removed them to the farm, residing there herself to direct
their labor. Commencing this novel undertaking with all that enthusiasm
for which she was remarkable, she continued the experiment some three
years and a half, when her health gave way, and, suffering under severe
sickness, she made a voyage to Europe for her recovery. During her
absence, the farm got involved in difficulties by the influence of her
enemies; and finally, the whole project falling through, the negroes
were sent off to Hayti at her expense.--She gave much time and money to
the carrying forward of this experiment; and though it was a failure,
it strikingly exhibited her strong sympathy and benevolence for an
oppressed and degraded class of beings. Returning from Europe, she went
to New Harmony (Indiana) to assume the proprietorship of a periodical
the Harmony Gazette, which had been published under the direction of
Robert Dale Owen. In 1828, leaving Mr. Owen in charge of the paper,
she began a lecturing tour through the Union; and probably no man, and
certainly no _woman_, ever met with such furious opposition. Her views,
as announced in her paper, had made her generally known, and, being
somewhat new and radically "anti-theological," brought down upon her
head the rancor of religious bigotry. As no church or hall would be
opened for her, she lectured in theatres; and her ability and eloquence
drew great audiences. On one occasion, while preparing to lecture in
a theatre at Baltimore, she was threatened with the destruction of her
life if she attempted to speak. She calmly replied, that she thought she
knew the American people, and for every riotous fanatic that might annoy
her, a hundred good citizens would protect her, and she was not afraid
to place herself in their hands. She judged rightly. She went to the
theatre, which was crammed from pit to ceiling, and lectured to an
admiring and enthusiastic audience. In other cities she was not always
so fortunate; more or less rioting occurred, while the press, almost
without exception, denounced her in the bitterest terms. Subsequently,
her paper was removed to New York. Some years afterwards, she again made
a lecturing tour, but this time she spoke on subjects of a political
nature, and met with a better reception. In addition to lecturing,
she conducted a political magazine, entitled the Manual of American
Principles, and was also engaged with Mr. Kneeland in editing the Boston
Investigator. She wrote a great deal, and upon many subjects. Among
her many works is a tragedy called "Altorf," which was performed on the
stage, the principal character being sustained by Mr. James Wallack.
Her last work, of any considerable size, was entitled "England the
Civiliser," published in London in 1847.
Madame D'Arusmont died suddenly in Cincinnati, on Tuesday, December 14,
1852, aged fifty-seven. She had been for sometime unwell, in consequence
of a fall upon the ice the previous winter, which broke her thigh, and
probably hastened her decease; but the immediate cause of her death was
the rupture of a blood vessel. She was aware of her situation, knew when
she was dying, and met her last hour with perfect composure. A daughter,
her only child, survives her.
In a small work entitled "Observations on Religion and Civilization,"
are given the following "Definitions of Theology and Religion: in the
words and in the things signified. Origin and Nature of Theology:"--
"Theology from the Greek _theos, logos_, renders distinct the meaning of
the subject it attempts to treat.--_Theos_, God, or Gods, unseen beings
and unknown causes. _Logos_, word, talk--or, if we like to employ
yet more familiar and expressive terms, prattle or chatter. _Talk, or
prattle, about unseen beings or unknown causes_, The idleness of the
subject, and inutility--nay, absolute insanity of the occupation,
sufficiently appears in the strict etymological meaning of the word
employed to typify them. The danger, the mischief, the cruelly immoral,
and, if I may be permitted to coin a word for the occasion, the
_unhumanizing_ tendencies both of the subject and the occupation, when
and where these are (as they have for the most part ever been throughout
the civilized world) absolutely protected by law and upheld by
government, sufficiently appear also from the whole page of history.
Religion, from the Latin _religio, religio_, renders with equal
distinctness the things signified. _Religo_, to tie over again, to bind
fast; _religio_, a binding together, a bond of union. The importance of
the great reality, here so accurately shadowed out, appears sufficiently
in the etymological signification of the word. Its utility will be
evident if we read, with intelligence, the nature, the past history, the
actual condition, and the future destiny of man. But now, taking these
two things in the most strict etymological sense of the words which
express them, it will readily be distinguished that the first is a
necessary creation of the _human intellect_ in a certain stage of
inquiry; the second, a necessary creation of the _human soul_ (by which
I understand both our intellectual and moral faculties taken conjointly)
in any and every state of human civilization. Theology argues, in its
origin, the first awakening of human attention to the phenomena of
nature, and the first crude efforts of human ingenuity to expound them.
While man sees the sun and stars without observing either their diurnal
or their annual revolutions; while he receives upon his frame the rain
and the wind, and the varying elements, without observing either their
effects upon himself or upon the field of nature around him, he is as
the brute which suffers and enjoys without inquiring why it experiences
light or darkness, pain or pleasure. When first he puts, in awkward
language, to himself or to his fellow, the question _why does such an
effect follow such a cause_? he commences his existence, if not as a
reasonable being, (a state at which he has not yet arrived) at least
_as a being capable of reason_. The answer to this first inquiry of
awakening intelligence is, of course, such as his own circumscribed
observation supplies.--It is, in fine, in accordance with the
explanation of the old nurse to the child, who, asking, when startled by
a rolling peal of thunder--'what makes that noise' was fully satisfied
by the reply: 'my darling, it is God Almighty overhead moving his
furniture.' Man awakening to thought, but still unfamiliar with the
concatenation of natural phenomena, inevitably conceives of some huge
being, or beings, bestriding the clouds and whirlwind, or wheeling the
sun and the moon like chariots through the blue vault. And so again,
fancy most naturally peoples the gloom of the night with demons, the
woods and the waters with naiads and dryads, elves and fairies, the
church-yard with ghosts, and the dark cave and the solitary cot with
wizards, imps and old witches. Such, then, is theology in its origin;
and, in all its stages, we find it varying in grossness according to
the degree of ignorance of the human mind; and, refining into verbal
subtleties and misty metaphysics in proportion as that mind exchanges,
in its progress from darkness to light, the gloom of ignorance for the
mass of terror."
The nature of belief in the unknowable, and the dire consequences
arising from fanaticism, are ably depicted in the following passages,
selected from Lecture IV., on "Religion:"--
"Admitting religion to be the most important of all subjects, its truths
must be the most apparent; for we shall readily concede, both that a
thing true, must be always of more or less importance--and that a thing
essentially important, must always be indisputably true. Now, again, I
conceive we shall be disposed to admit, that exactly in proportion to
the indisputability of a truth, is the proof it is capable of affording;
and that, exactly in proportion to the proof afforded, is our admission
of such truth and belief in it. If, then, religion be the most important
subject of human inquiry, it must be that also which presents the most
forcible, irrefragable, and indisputable truths to the inquirer.--It
must be that on which the human mind can err the least, and where all
minds must be the most agreed. If religion be at once a science, and the
most true of all sciences, its truths must be as indisputable as those
in any branch of the mathematics--as apparent to all the senses as those
revealed by the chemist or observed by the naturalist, and as easily
referred to the test of our approving or disapproving sensations, as
those involved in the science of morals.... Is religion a science?
Is it a branch of knowledge? Where are the _things known_ upon which it
rests? Where are the accumulated facts of which it is compounded? What
are the human sensations to which it appeals? Knowledge is compounded
of _things known_. It is an accumulation of facts gleaned by our senses,
within the range of material existence, which is subject to their
investigation.... Now let us see where, in the table of knowledge,
we may class religion. Of what part or division of nature, or material
existence, does it treat? What bodies, or what properties of tangible
bodies, does it place in contact with our senses, and bring home to the
perception of our faculties? It clearly appertains not to the table of
human knowledge, for it treats not of objects discoverable within the
field of human observation. 'No,' will you say? 'but its knowledge
is superhuman, unearthly--its field is in heaven.' My friends, the
knowledge which is not human, is of slippery foundation to us human
creatures. Things _known_, constitute knowledge; and here is a science
treating of things unseen, unfelt, uncomprehended! Such cannot be
_knowledge_. What, then, is it? Probability? possibility? theory?
hypothesis? tradition? written? spoken? by whom? when? where? Let its
teachers--nay, let all earth reply! But what confusion of tongues and
voices now strike on the ear! From either Indies, from torrid Africa,
from the frozen regions of either pole, from the vast plains of ancient
Asia, from the fields and cities of European industry, from the palaces
of European luxury, from the soft chambers of priestly ease, from the
domes of hierarchal dominion, from the deep cell of the self-immolated
monk, from the stony cave of the self-denying anchorite, from the
cloud-capt towers, spires, and minarets of the crescent and the cross,
arise shouts, and hosannas, and anathemas, in the commingled names
of Brama, and Veeshnu, and Creeshna, and Juggernaut; heavenly kings,
heavenly queens, triune deities, earth-born gods, heaven-born prophets,
apotheosized monarchs, demon-enlightened philosophers, saints, angels,
devils, ghosts, apparitions, and sorceries! But, worse than these sounds
which but stun the ear and confound the intellect, what sights, oh!
human kind! appal the heart! The rivers of earth run blood! Nation set
against nation! Brother against brother! Man against the companion of
his bosom! and that soft companion, maddened with the frenzy of insane
remorse for imaginary crimes? fired with the rage of infatuated bigotry,
or subdued to diseased helplessness and mental fatuity, renounces
kindred, flies from social converse, and pines away a useless or
mischievous existence in sighings and tremblings, spectral fears,
uncharitable feelings and bitter denunciations! Such are thy doings,
oh! religion! Or, rather, such are thy doings, oh! man! While standing
in a world so rich in sources of enjoyment, so stored with objects of
real inquiry and attainable knowledge, yet shutting thine eyes, and,
worse, thine heart, to the tangible things and sentient creatures around
thee, and winging thy diseased imagination beyond the light of the sun
which gladdens thy world, and contemplation of the objects which are
here to expand thy mind and quicken the pulses of thy heart!... I will
pray ye to observe how much of our positive misery originates in our
idle speculations in matters of faith, and in our blind, our fearful
forgetfulness of facts--our cold, heartless, and, I will say, _insane_
indifference to visible causes of tangible evil, and visible sources of
tangible happiness. Look to the walks of life, I beseech ye--look into
the public prints--look into your sectarian churches--look into the
bosoms of families--look into your own bosoms, and those of your fellow
beings, and see how many of our disputes and dissensions, public
and private--how many of our unjust actions--how many of our harsh
judgments--how many of our uncharitable feelings--spring out of our
ignorant ambition to rend the veil which wraps from our human senses the
knowledge of things unseen, and from our human faculties the conception
of causes unknown? And oh! my fellow beings! do not these very words
_unseen_ and _unknown_, warn the enthusiast against the profanity of
such inquiries, and proclaim to the philosopher their futility? Do they
not teach us that religion is no subject for instruction, and no subject
for discussion? Will they not convince us that as beyond the horizon of
our observation we can know nothing, so within that horizon's the
only safe ground for us to meet in public?... Every day we see sects
splitting, creeds new modelling, and men forsaking old opinions only to
quarrel about their opposites.
"I see three Gods in one, says the Trinitarian, and excommunicates the
Socinian, who sees a God-head in unity. I see a heaven but no hell, says
the Universalist, and disowns fellowship with such as may distinguish
less. 'I see a heaven and hell also, beyond the stars,' said lately
the Orthodox friend, and expelled his shorter-sighted brethren from the
sanctuary. I seek them both in the heart of man, said the more spiritual
follower of Penn, and straightway builded him up another temple, in
which to quarrel with his neighbor, who perhaps only employs other words
to express the same ideas. For myself, pretending to no insight into
these mysteries, possessing no means of intercourse with the inhabitants
of other worlds, confessing my absolute incapacity to see either as far
back as a first cause, or as far forward as a last one, I am content
to state to you, my fellow creatures, that all my studies, reading,
reflection, and observation, have obtained for me no knowledge beyond
the sphere of our planet, our earthly interests and our earthly duties;
and that I more than doubt whether, should you expend all your time and
all your treasure in the search, you will be able to acquire any better
information respecting unseen worlds and future events than myself."
The philosophical romance, "A Few Days in Athens," though the first
of Miss Wright's works, and written when she was very young, displays
considerable power and eloquence. It is the most pleasing of all her
writings. It is intended to portray the doctrines of Epicurus, and gives
a picture of the Gargettian, in the "Gardens of the Academy," surrounded
by his pupils, calculated to counteract many of the popular and
erroneous notions entertained of that philosopher's teachings. The
following dialogue between Epicurus and his favorite, Theon, will afford
the readers of the "Half-Hours" an opportunity of judging how far Miss
Wright has conveyed a truthful idea of Epicurus's ethical philosophy:--
"On leaving you, last night," said Theon, "I encountered Cleanthes. He
came from the perusal of your writings, and brought charges against them
which I was unprepared to answer."
"Let us hear them, my son; perhaps, until you shall have perused them
yourself, we may assist your difficulty."
"First, that they deny the existence of the Gods."
"I see but one other assertion that could equal that in folly," said
Epicurus.
"I knew it," exclaimed Theon, triumphantly, "I knew it was impossible.
But where will not prejudice lead men, when even the uptight Cleanthes
is capable of slander?"
"He is utterly incapable of it," said the Master; "and the inaccuracy,
in this case, I rather suspect to rest with you than with him. To _deny_
the existence of the Gods would indeed be presumption in a 'philosopher;
a presumption equalled only by that of him who should _assert_ their
existence."
"How!" exclaimed the youth, with a countenance in which astonishment
seemed to suspend every other expression.
"As I never saw the Gods, my son," calmly continued the Sage, "I cannot
_assert_ their existence; and that I never saw them, is no reason for
my _denying_ it."
"But do we believe nothing except that of which we have ocular
demonstration?"
"Nothing, at least, for which we have not the evidence of one or more
of our senses; that is, when we believe on just grounds, which I grant,
taking men collectively, is very seldom."
"But where would this spirit lead us! To impiety!--to Atheism!--to
all, against which I felt confidence in defending the character and
philosophy of Epicurus!"
"We will examine presently, my son, into the meaning of the terms you
have employed. When you first entered the Garden your mind was unfit for
the examination of the subject you have now started: it is no longer so;
and we will therefore enter upon the inquiry, and pursue it in order."
"Forgive me if I express--if I acknowledge," said the youth, slightly
recoiling from his instructor, "some reluctance to enter on the
discussion of truths, whose very discussion would seem to argue a doubt,
and"--
"And what then!"
"That very doubt were a crime."
"If the doubt of any truth shall constitute a crime, then the belief of
the same truth should constitute a virtue."
"Perhaps a duty would rather express it!" "When you charge the neglect
of any duty as crime, or account its fulfilment a virtue, you suppose
the existence of a power to neglect or fulfil; and it is the exercise of
this power, in the one way or the other which constitutes the merit or
demerit. Is it not so?"
"Certainly."
"Does the human mind possess the power to believe or disbelieve, at
pleasure, any truths whatsoever."
"I am not prepared to answer: but I think it does, since it possesses
always the power of investigation."
"But, possibly, not the will to exercise the power. Take care lest
I beat you with your own weapons. I thought this very investigation
appeared to you a crime?"
"Your logic is too subtle," said the youth, "for my inexperience."
"Say, rather, my reasoning too close. Did I bear you down with sounding
words and weighty authorities, and confound your understanding with
hair-drawn distinctions, you would be right to retreat from the
battery."