Notwithstanding our many heresies we still believed in Christianity--in
its moral excellence, as we expressed it. Jesus was not God; Calvin was
all wrong; but still there was that in Christianity which could not be
found elsewhere. While I myself did not linger long in this indecisive
mood, still it was very trying while it lasted. To soften a little the
pain of losing Jesus the God, the temptation to exalt him as a perfect
moral teacher beyond all others the world had ever seen very nearly
swamped me. But there were also financial considerations which made my
position at this stage a very critical one. I was, besides, so much in
need of companionship and sympathy that I wonder now why I did not rush
into the open arms of the first liberal Christian sect that offered to
fellowship with me.
And there were religious fellowships ready to receive us. Let me first
speak of the Unitarians, who very kindly offered to help us, both
morally and financially. We were not told that we had to join the
denomination before we could receive financial assistance. They offered
to help us without any conditions. The Unitarians have a fund to
help all "liberal" religious movements, and as a "liberal" religious
movement, we could, if we wished, draw upon that fund. We did not accept
the financial help, but we were happy to receive such moral support as
men like James Freeman Clarke, Edward Everett Hale, Minot J. Savage and
other equally distinguished preachers of Unitarianism could give us. The
venerable Dr. Furness, more than once, occupied my pulpit, as also
the Rev. Gordon Ames, whose church also proposed my name for a life
membership in the American Unitarian Association. I can never be too
grateful to the Unitarians for their hospitality to me in those trying
times. Both Dr. Clarke and Dr. Hale had received me in their homes and
given me such counsel as a young man at the threshold of a new career
stands in need of. It was thus that Unitarianism, with its gracious
hospitality, its tolerance and liberality, came very near persuading
me that having gone as far as Unitarianism, it was not necessary to
go farther. Thus you see, Moses and Calvin came back to me dressed as
Unitarians; but, fortunately for me, I recognized the disguise.
If I could "settle down" in Unitarianism, why did I leave the
Presbyterian church? The difference between them is after all a
difference of quantity. The Presbyterians believe more than the
Unitarians, and while the Bible is inspired from cover to cover for the
former, the latter believe only in the authority of certain portions
of the book. Ernest Renan told the Protestants that they did not have
sufficient reason for leaving the Catholic church. "But we could not
believe in the mass," replied the Protestants. "If you believe in the
virgin birth and the resurrection of the flesh, what but a whim could
prevent you from believing also in transubstantiation," argued Renan.
We can say the same of Unitarianism. If it can believe in parts of the
Bible, as "inspired" or if it can accept, the unity of God, or "the
Lordship of Jesus," why not believe a little more? If it drops one dogma
on grounds of reason, it must drop all, and if it can accept one
dogma, the "Lordship of Jesus," for example, on faith, why not also
the Trinity? If God exists, he could be in three or more parts quite as
easily as in one.
Unwittingly the Unitarian church has helped to strengthen the cause of
Orthodoxy. It speaks of Christ as the most perfect being or teacher who
has ever visited this planet--a being possessing all the virtues, and
none of the defects of human nature,--a being worthy to be called in a
special sense, "the Son of God."
"Very well," answers the Orthodox believer, "If Jesus was all that, he
was God." The difference between Unitarianism and Orthodoxy is that,
while the latter calls Christ a God, the former holds that he was more
than man. The point is not worth fighting for. Moreover, "If Christ was
the type of perfection, as you Unitarians seem to believe," argues the
Calvinist, "he could not have claimed to be God, as he certainly does,
unless he was God. If he was not God, he was an impostor, and not the
most perfect type of character the world has ever seen, as you claim."
The answer is decisive. If Jesus believed himself to be only a mortal
like ourselves, how explain his language of authority, his forgiving of
sins, his miracles, his claim to be equal with the Father, and to have
existed from all time? The weapons which Unitarianism uses against
Orthodoxy, the latter can easily ignore. Nay, Unitarians are often
quoted by the Orthodox to prove that even those who deny the divinity
of Jesus, are compelled to admit "that there never was another like
unto Him." The point I am endeavoring to make is that I could not accept
Unitarianism because its claim about the moral perfection of Jesus was
as much an unreasoned dogma, as the belief in his divinity. If I could
subscribe to one dogma, why not to all? If there is no evidence that
Jesus was God, neither is there any that he was morally perfect.
I am aware that there are Unitarians who do not accept even the moral
perfection of Jesus. But that only helps to confuse us as to what
Unitarianism really stands for. If Jesus was not morally perfect, or the
wisest and best teacher, why does he monopolize the Unitarian pulpit? In
conclusion, as already intimated, Unitarianism with its God-idea differs
from Calvinism, not in kind, but in degree only. Its baggage of the
supernatural is not quite so heavy, but what there is of it is every
whit as supernatural.
But my inexperienced bark had hardly weathered the Unitarian storm
which, as I confessed, came very near driving me under shelter, before
another danger confronted me and my struggling society. The financial
problem was, of course, a pressing one with us. Hall rent had to be
paid, which was considerable, and the lecturer and his family had to be
supported. The independent course I was following was not adding to the
revenues of the society. The moneyed people, and the people accustomed
to making generous contributions for church purposes, did not approve of
my Rational tendencies. It was at this time that Spiritualism crossed
my path, and endeavored, if I may use so trite a phrase, "to flirt with
me."
"I could have many new supporters, and some moneyed men and women, if I
could see the truth of Spiritualism," was whispered in my ears by my own
fears and hopes. And then hardly a Sunday passed when at the conclusion
of the lecture I was not met by some believer in Spiritualism, who told
me how he or she had seen Darwin, or Emerson, or Goethe, or Voltaire at
my side on the platform, while I was delivering my address, and how
one or the other had smiled upon me with approval. I received messages
purporting to come from the world of Spirits, commending my course, and
bidding me to go forward unafraid. Opportunities were given me to see
tables tip, to hear "celestial" voices, and to be surprised by flashes
of light in perfectly dark rooms.
For many of the friends who tried to lead my steps toward Spiritualism,
I still cherish the tenderest thoughts. They befriended me and my wife,
they helped to render those desolate days of anxiety and hardship
a little less of a strain upon our resources. But I could become a
Spiritualist only with my eyes shut, and I had opened them when I parted
with Calvinism. Was I now going to shut my eyes again?
My neighbor and colleague, Dr. John E. Roberts, who left the Baptist
church to join the Unitarians, and later, became minister of the Church
of this World, has recently expressed his interest in Spiritualism. He
thinks the Spiritualists have the most comforting doctrine, because of
their hope of immortality. Dr. Roberts thinks that we need the spiritual
glow of faith in immortality to keep us from withering. But is not
immortality as inconceivable as the Trinity? Why should a man object
to the Baptist or the Unitarian immortality, if he can accept the
immortality of the Spiritualists? Is the evidence furnished by modern
mediums more convincing than that furnished by the mediums in the Bible?
Are the spirits who manifest themselves in the Old and New Testaments,
impostors, while those who appear to Mrs. Piper in Brooklyn are genuine?
And is the immortality promised by Mrs. Piper's ghosts different, or
better, than the immortality promised by those who communed with Jesus,
Peter and Paul? But let us hear Dr. Roberts' reasons for preferring
the Spiritualist's certain hope of another life to the silence of
Rationalism on the question of the hereafter:
"And then I think there is need of a revival along the line of
cherishing the old-fashioned hopes. You can see in current literature a
strong tendency towards the belief that this world is the end of it.
It is surprising to one that will bear in mind how often he finds that
strain of pessimism. Men and women in very great numbers are beginning
to think that after all maybe eternal sleep is better than eternal life.
For, in the grave there can come no pain, no sorrow, no tears. 'On the
shore of that vast sea of oblivion no wave of sorrow breaks.' But, to my
mind, life is too sweet ever to be given up, and I can't help liking
the old-fashioned hope that there is something beyond; that we shall
remember and find each other and make reparations for wrongs we have
done and explain some things that were misunderstood here. In other
words, that we shall live again. For one, without knowing a thing about
it, I cling to the old-fashioned hope of immortality."
But is it correct to identify "the old-fashioned hope" with optimism,
and "the belief that eternal sleep is better than eternal life," or
that "in the grave there can come no pain, no sorrow, no tears,"--with
pessimism? "The old-fashioned hope" was no hope at all, because it was
a private and exclusive hope. It reserved a place in heaven for the few,
the elect,--whether Jewish, Mohammedan or Christian,--and condemned the
multitude to the pains of hell. Can such a hope make for optimism? Can
such a prospect brace up humanity at large? Moreover, the "old-fashioned
hope's" picture of eternal life is so prosaic, so savorless, that it
has fallen into "innocuous desuetude" even among the elect. Men have
expressed their hesitation to decide which they would prefer, the heaven
or the hell of the "old-fashioned hope." The grave is more optimistic
than the old-fashioned future.=
``_Ah, within our Mother's breast,
``From toil and tumult, sin and sorrow free,
``Sphered beyond hope and dread, divinely calm,
``They lie, all gathered into perfect rest.
``And o'er the trance of their Eternity.
``The cypress waves more holy than the palm_.=
But Dr. Roberts likes "eternal life" of some kind. Eternal life! We
fear our good friend has stooped to a sonorous phrase. Pliny, one of the
illustrious philosophers of the reign of Trajan, thought that man was
more fortunate than the gods, because, while "the gods cannot die, man
can." We are not in a position to tell whether or not "eternal life" is
desirable, for we do not know what it is. How can we desire, or despise
the inconceivable? No one can tell whether it is an evil or a blessing
to live forever and ever, and ever, and ever,--and ever--unless he
has experienced it. Nor can anyone affirm "eternal life" (we think
Dr. Roberts means conscious, personal immortality) until he has lived
through an eternity. To live a million, million years, is not eternal
life. Hence, no one who has not so lived, can speak intelligently of
"eternal life." We cannot even say that the gods are immortal. Because
they have lived until now, so to speak, is no argument that they will
live forever. We have to wait until they prove their ability to live
forever, and ever, and ever, before we can pronounce them immortal. No
being can be called immortal until he has lived to the end of time. We
do not affirm, nor do we deny, the inconceivable. The question of the
hereafter is still an open one. There is no reason why people should not
speculate about it. We may even hope that tomorrow's science will throw
more light upon this interesting problem, but today, all we know about
eternal life is that we do not know anything about it.
``_I gazed (as oft I've gazed the same)
``To try if I could wrench aught out of death,
``Which could confirm, or shake, or make a faith,
``But it was all a mystery. Here we are._=
Yes, "Here we are,"--that is the great reality. There is cheer and
hope and love even in the thought that the present hour is big with
possibilities and sweet with memories. We need not think of the grave
while our hearts pulse, and our blood is warm. It is queer how all
believers in eternal life fear the grave and deepen its gloom. The
thought of another life often impoverishes the life we now possess.
Pining for the far away tomorrow, we lose the joy at our doors. Schiller
describes a recluse at the bar of heaven, arguing that he must have
great rewards because he has practiced great privations in life. He
received a chilling answer. He is told that if he was foolish enough to
let the real life slip through his fingers for a distant reward, there
is no power that can make good his losses.
Real optimism springs from the thought that the present life may be made
dearer and nobler, richer, and happier, and that we may so live as to
leave behind us a long and fragrant memory:
``The ripe products of a fertile brain
``Will live and reproduce fair fruit again.=
Even at its worst, death is an obligation we owe posterity, and the
discharge of it should make no one a pessimist. At any rate, with Grant
Allen, we can sing when we feel life's evening gathering about us:
``Perchance a little light will come with morning;
````Perchance I shall but sleep.
Dr. Roberts admits, I believe, that he has no evidence to offer, except
what he calls "the innate desire for another life." But if the desire
for immortality proves another and an endless life, the desire for God,
or Christ, or an infallible Revelation, ought to be sufficient to prove
their existence. The Spiritualists, like the Orthodox, reason logically
enough against beliefs not their own, but when it comes to their own
dogmas they do not consult reason at all. I had left Calvinism because
it failed to furnish the evidence for its claims, how then could I join
the Spiritualists with no more evidence to substantiate their claims
than that it was pleasant to desire another life? But there is the
testimony of the mediums; yes, and there is the testimony of the
apostles. If the latter is not enough to make Christianity true, the
former is not enough to prove Spiritualism.
The comparatively few lines in which I have tried to tell my early
experience as a Rationalist give but an imperfect idea of the effort
required under circumstances of stress and anxiety, to keep my ship
steady on the troublous waters to which the winds outside the harbor
of Calvinism had driven me. In the words of Shelley, I had unfurled my
sails to the tempest, and fear and alarm were to be my portion, until
I became more accustomed to the swing of the sea, and could command the
stars to point the way. The open sea is not like the sheltered harbor.
It is easy to go out to sea, but not so easy to find one's way there.
During this period of mental struggle to work out a philosophy of life
which should fill the vacuum created by the collapse of theology, I was
frequently approached by well-meaning, but over-confident, teachers who,
in their own opinion, at any rate, had completely and satisfactorily
reconciled religion with Reason. Nearly every mail brought me letters
recommending some publication which would answer all my difficulties as
it had theirs. Not a few of my would-be helpers went to the trouble of
calling on me with the same object in view. I shall only speak here of
one of the books which was supposed to have untied all the knots, divine
and human, which have ever perplexed the brain of man. The book came
to me highly recommended. Even President Eliot of Harvard had publicly
endorsed it. While it was many years after the period I am now writing
of, that my attention was called to this book, nevertheless, it is
because the book is typical of the efforts to make Reason approve of the
fundamentals of the popular faith, that I reproduce here what I said of
it at the time: _Balance_ is the name of a little book with a great aim.
Its author, Mr. Orlando Smith, sets out as a new Columbus to discover
not another earth, but another truth, which shall give to all
known truths new meaning and worth. This truth, he believes, he
has discovered, and christens it, "The Fundamental Verity." Lucid
illustrations are massed together with telling effect, to show that
Nature is equipped with a self-curative genius which makes discord an
impossibility. That which is overdone in one direction is underdone
equally in an opposite direction. This rhythm, this equivalence which
pulls the pendulum in one direction as far as it pushes it in another is
the _Fundamental Verity_, which, if grasped as universal and infallible,
will remove from our shoulders what Shakespeare calls "the weary weight
of all this unintelligible world," and bring Religion and Science,
the two gladiatorial contestants in the modern arena, to replace their
quarrelous weapons, with which they have given and received gashes deep
and bloody, with the olive branch of peace and concord.
Having undertaken to demonstrate that the physical world is in the
embrace of laws which forever evolve order out of confusion, and that
Balance is supreme in every detail of life, from the most momentous to
the most minute, that throughout the length and breadth of the universe
the account balances perfectly; and that Nature has no failures, and bad
debts; that Balance forbids wrong, such for instance as the victory of
one force over another, the author believes he has found in this law the
unanswerable demonstration for the existence of a Supreme Being who is
the author of _Balance_ in the universe and of the immortality of the
soul. Thus, having given to these two ambitious propositions a new
front, he concludes he has reconciled Religion with Science.
It is quite easy to reconcile enemies if they let you interpret their
differences to suit yourself. Mr. Smith defines both Religion and
Science with a view to reconciliation, and it is no wonder that they
stop quarreling immediately.
Even in Mr. Orlando Smith's religion, there is an element of the
supernatural, a _deus ex machina_--who from the eternities rules the
world and is pledged to see that in the end right shall prevail. This is
theology and not science.
Mr. Smith starts by trying to prove that Nature is just, orderly, and
its accounts are always perfect, and then, unfortunately enough, he
drags forth once more the obsolete theological argument which science
has already rent into tatters, that another life is inevitable since
this life is unsatisfactory. Having shown that there are no failures in
Nature, he now says, "We must admit, however, that justice is incomplete
in this life." That, however, destroys the position that Nature is at
present governed by a Supreme Being who makes failure impossible, and
the proposition that this Supreme Being must be given more time to work
in--an eternity--is theology, not science.
If for millions of years this earth could roll under the eye of a
Supreme Being and still be imperfect, what reason have we to conclude
that the Being who has failed hitherto is going to do better in the
unknown future? And what about the animals? Will they have to
look forward to another world for justice? Must not their lives be
"balanced"' in some way too? Or will Mr. Orlando Smith answer with St.
Paul, "Does God care for the oxen"?
Toward the end, Mr. Smith develops into a full-fledged pulpiteer,
claiming that no hospitals, charities, or institutions of
learning,--songs hymns, poems, noble thoughts or sentiments are
possible, without the doctrine of a Supreme Being, and of another
life. Thus the science with which Mr. Smith began is swallowed up in
theology--it is the lamb and the lion lying down together,--but one
inside the other.
I had renounced Calvinism, not because it would not let me use my reason
at all, but because it would not let me use it consistently. I could
use it here, but not there, or only so far and no further. The men who
offered me substitutes for Calvinism placed restrictions upon reason
too, differing only in appearance from those imposed by the church.
I had not yet found an organization that respected consistency, and
consistency is another word for sincerity.