This book is one of those which, if it lives for a number of decades,
and if it requires any Preface at all, wants a new one every ten
years. The first Preface to a book is apt to be explanatory, perhaps
apologetic, in the expectation of attacks from various quarters. If the
book is in some points in advance of public opinion, it is natural that
the writer should try to smooth the way to the reception of his more or
less aggressive ideas. He wishes to convince, not to offend,--to obtain
a hearing for his thought, not to stir up angry opposition in those
who do not accept it. There is commonly an anxious look about a first
Preface. The author thinks he shall be misapprehended about this or that
matter, that his well-meant expressions will probably be invidiously
interpreted by those whom he looks upon as prejudiced critics, and if he
deals with living questions that he will be attacked as a destructive
by the conservatives and reproached for his timidity by the noisier
radicals. The first Preface, therefore, is likely to be the weakest part
of a work containing the thoughts of an honest writer.
After a time the writer has cooled down from his excitement,--has got
over his apprehensions, is pleased to find that his book is still read,
and that he must write a new Preface. He comes smiling to his task. How
many things have explained themselves in the ten or twenty or thirty
years since he came before his untried public in those almost plaintive
paragraphs in which he introduced himself to his readers,--for the
Preface writer, no matter how fierce a combatant he may prove, comes on
to the stage with his shield on his right arm and his sword in his left
hand.
The Professor at the Breakfast-Table came out in the “Atlantic Monthly”
and introduced itself without any formal Preface. A quarter of a century
later the Preface of 1882, which the reader has just had laid before
him, was written. There is no mark of worry, I think, in that. Old
opponents had come up and shaken hands with the author they had attacked
or denounced. Newspapers which had warned their subscribers against him
were glad to get him as a contributor to their columns. A great change
had come over the community with reference to their beliefs. Christian
believers were united as never before in the feeling that, after all,
their common object was to elevate the moral and religious standard of
humanity. But within the special compartments of the great Christian
fold the marks of division have pronounced themselves in the most
unmistakable manner. As an example we may take the lines of
cleavage which have shown themselves in the two great churches, the
Congregational and the Presbyterian, and the very distinct fissure which
is manifest in the transplanted Anglican church of this country. Recent
circumstances have brought out the fact of the great change in the
dogmatic communities which has been going on silently but surely.
The licensing of a missionary, the transfer of a Professor from
one department to another, the election of a Bishop,--each of these
movements furnishes evidence that there is no such thing as an air-tight
reservoir of doctrinal finalities.
The folding-doors are wide open to every Protestant to enter all the
privileged precincts and private apartments of the various exclusive
religious organizations. We may demand the credentials of every
creed and catechise all the catechisms. So we may discuss the gravest
questions unblamed over our morning coffee-cups or our evening tea-cups.
There is no rest for the Protestant until he gives up his legendary
anthropology and all its dogmatic dependencies.
It is only incidentally, however, that the Professor at the
Breakfast-Table handles matters which are the subjects of religious
controversy. The reader who is sensitive about having his fixed beliefs
dealt with as if they were open to question had better skip the pages
which look as if they would disturb his complacency. “Faith” is the most
precious of possessions, and it dislikes being meddled with. It means,
of course, self-trust,--that is, a belief in the value of our own
opinion of a doctrine, of a church, of a religion, of a Being, a belief
quite independent of any evidence that we can bring to convince a jury
of our fellow beings. Its roots are thus inextricably entangled with
those of self-love and bleed as mandrakes were said to, when pulled up
as weeds. Some persons may even at this late day take offence at a few
opinions expressed in the following pages, but most of these passages
will be read without loss of temper by those who disagree with them, and
by-and-by they may be found too timid and conservative for intelligent
readers, if they are still read by any.
BEVERLY FARM, MASS., June 18, 1891. O. W. H.