They had by this time strolled as far as Carlton's lodgings, where the
books happened to be on which Charles was at that time more immediately
employed; and they took two or three turns under some fine beeches which
stood in front of the house before entering it.
"Tell me, Reding," said Carlton, "for really I don't understand, what
are your reasons for admiring what, in truth, is simply an unnatural
state."
"Don't let us talk more, my dear Carlton," answered Reding; "I shall go
on making a fool of myself. Let well alone, or bad alone, pray do."
It was evident that there was some strong feeling irritating him
inwardly; the manner and words were too serious for the occasion.
Carlton, too, felt strongly upon what seemed at first sight a very
secondary question, or he would have let it alone, as Charles asked him.
"No; as we are on the subject, let me get at your view," said he. "It
was said in the beginning, 'Increase and multiply;' therefore celibacy
is unnatural."
"Supernatural," said Charles, smiling.
"Is not that a word without an idea?" asked Carlton. "We are taught by
Butler that there is an analogy between nature and grace; else you might
parallel paganism to nature, and where paganism is contrary to nature,
say that it is supernatural. The Wesleyan convulsions are preternatural;
why not supernatural?"
"I really think that our divines, or at least some of them, are on my
side here," said Charles--"Jeremy Taylor, I believe."
"You have not told me what you mean by supernatural," said Carlton; "I
want to get at what _you_ think, you know."
"It seems to me," said Charles, "that Christianity, being the perfection
of nature, is both like it and unlike it;--like it, where it is the same
or as much as nature; unlike it, where it is as much and more. I mean by
supernatural the perfection of nature."
"Give me an instance," said Carlton.
"Why, consider, Carlton; our Lord says, 'Ye have heard that it has been
said of old time,--but _I_ say unto you;' that contrast denotes the more
perfect way, or the gospel ... He came not to destroy, but to fulfil the
law ... I can't recollect of a sudden; ... oh, for instance, _this_ is a
case in point; He abolished a permission which had been given to the
Jews because of the hardness of their hearts."
"Not quite in point," said Carlton, "for the Jews, in their divorces,
had fallen _below_ nature. 'Let no man put asunder,' was the rule in
Paradise."
"Still, surely the idea of an Apostle, unmarried, pure, in fast and
nakedness, and at length a martyr, is a higher idea than that of one of
the old Israelites sitting under his vine and fig-tree, full of temporal
goods, and surrounded by sons and grandsons. I am not derogating from
Gideon or Caleb; I am adding to St. Paul."
"St. Paul's is a very particular case," said Carlton.
"But he himself lays down the general maxim, that it is 'good' for a man
to continue as he was."
"There we come to a question of criticism, what 'good' means: I may
think it means 'expedient,' and what he says about the 'present
distress' confirms it."
"Well, I won't go to criticism," said Charles; "take the text, 'in sin
hath my mother conceived me.' Do not these words show that, over and
above the doctrine of original sin, there is (to say the least) great
risk of marriage leading to sin in married people?"
"My dear Reding," said Carlton, astonished, "you are running into
Gnosticism."
"Not knowingly or willingly," answered Charles; "but understand what I
mean. It's not a subject I can talk about; but it seems to me, without
of course saying that married persons must sin (which would be
Gnosticism), that there is a danger of sin. But don't let me say more on
this point."
"Well," said Carlton, after thinking awhile, "_I_ have been accustomed
to consider Christianity as the perfection of man as a whole, body,
soul, and spirit. Don't misunderstand me. Pantheists say body and
intellect, leaving out the moral principle; but I say spirit as well as
mind. Spirit, or the principle of religious faith and obedience, should
be the master principle, the _hegemonicon_. To this both intellect and
body are subservient; but as this supremacy does not imply the
ill-usage, the bondage of the intellect, neither does it of the body;
both should be well treated."
"Well, I think, on the contrary, it does imply in one sense the bondage
of intellect and body too. What is faith but the submission of the
intellect? and as 'every high thought is brought into captivity,' so are
we expressly told to bring the body into subjection too. They are both
well treated, when they are treated so as to be made fit instruments of
the sovereign principle."
"That is what I call unnatural," said Carlton.
"And it is what I mean by supernatural," answered Reding, getting a
little too earnest.
"How is it supernatural, or adding to nature, to destroy a part of it?"
asked Carlton.
Charles was puzzled. It was a way, he said, _towards_ perfection; but he
thought that perfection came after death, not here. Our nature could not
be perfect with a corruptible body; the body was treated now as a body
of death.
"Well, Reding," answered Carlton, "you make Christianity a very
different religion from what our Church considers it, I really think;"
and he paused awhile.
"Look here," he proceeded, "how can we rejoice in Christ, as having been
redeemed by Him, if we are in this sort of gloomy penitential state? How
much is said in St. Paul about peace, thanksgiving, assurance, comfort,
and the like! Old things are passed away; the Jewish law is destroyed;
pardon and peace are come; _that_ is the Gospel."
"Don't you think, then," said Charles, "that we should grieve for the
sins into which we are daily betrayed, and for the more serious offences
which from time to time we may have committed?"
"Certainly; we do so in Morning and Evening Prayer, and in the Communion
Service."
"Well, but supposing a youth, as is so often the case, has neglected
religion altogether, and has a whole load of sins, and very heinous
ones, all upon him,--do you think that, when he turns over a new leaf,
and comes to Communion, he is, on saying the Confession (saying it with
that contrition with which such persons ought to say it), pardoned at
once, and has nothing more to fear about his past sins?"
"I should say, 'Yes,'" answered Carlton.
"Really," said Charles thoughtfully.
"Of course," said Carlton, "I suppose him truly sorry or penitent:
whether he is so or not his future life will show."
"Well, somehow, I cannot master this idea," said Charles; "I think most
serious persons, even for a little sin, would go on fidgeting
themselves, and would not suppose they gained pardon directly they asked
for it."
"Certainly," answered Carlton; "but God pardons those who do not pardon
themselves."
"That is," said Charles, "who _don't_ at once feel peace, assurance, and
comfort; who _don't_ feel the perfect joy of the Gospel."
"Such persons grieve, but rejoice too," said Carlton.
"But tell me, Carlton," said Reding; "is, or is not, their not forgiving
themselves, their sorrow and trouble, pleasing to God?"
"Surely."
"Thus a certain self-infliction for sin committed is pleasing to Him;
and, if so, how does it matter whether it is inflicted on mind or body?"
"It is not properly a self-infliction," answered Carlton;
"self-infliction implies intention; grief at sin is something
spontaneous. When you afflict yourself on purpose, then at once you pass
from pure Christianity."
"Well," said Charles, "I certainly fancied that fasting, abstinence,
labours, celibacy, might be taken as a make-up for sin. It is not a very
far-fetched idea. You recollect Dr. Johnson's standing in the rain in
the market-place at Lichfield when a man, as a penance for some
disobedience to his father when a boy?"
"But, my dear Reding," said Carlton, "let me bring you back to what you
said originally, and to my answer to you, which what you now say only
makes more apposite. You began by saying that celibacy was a perfection
of nature, now you make it a penance; first it is good and glorious,
next it is a medicine and punishment."
"Perhaps our highest perfection here is penance," said Charles; "but I
don't know; I don't profess to have clear ideas upon the subject. I have
talked more than I like. Let us at length give over."
They did, in consequence, pass to other subjects connected with
Charles's reading; then they entered the house, and set to upon
Polybius; but it could not be denied that for the rest of the day
Carlton's manner was not quite his own, as if something had annoyed him.
Next morning he was as usual.