Honesty. A question propounded. Are "divines" honest?
Meaning of the word. Learners and teachers--their
relations to each other. Honesty expected in a professor.
Teachers of religion are trusted--they are bound to be
faithful. Political rights of men in respect of the clergy
of the Established Church. Right to see that religion is
not adulterated. Man's right to truth. What truth is not.
Assertions required at "ordination." Canonical Scriptures.
Verbal inspiration. Doubts of laity. Two schools--those
who will and those who will not inquire. Rev. Dr
Colenso. Rev. Dr Browne. Precious stones and "paste."
How should a doubt be tackled--by inquiry, or by ignoring
it? An analogy. Compass and bible. If compass wrong,
why steer by it? Passenger and captain--one appeals to
stars, the other to his owners and the seamen under him.
Precision of Colenso--his words falsified so as to be
confuted: this is not honesty. Is Bishop Browne honest in
controversy? Tabernacle, temple, doors, &c. The _Speaker's
Commentary_ not an honest book. Papal falsehoods; false
decretals; false letter from Prester John. Pious frauds.
Influence of dishonest teaching on education. The point
involved in sectarian discussions. Lying miracles--are
they promulgated honestly? Is it honest in religion to
promulgate that which we knew to be wrong, or which we dare
not inquire into for fear of consequences? Do Papal
authorities believe in the annual miracle at Naples? The
Protestant Church judged by a ruler of Siam. Bigotry, by
not inquiring, does not establish truth. Each man who is
deceived has a propensity to deceive others. The masses
agree to be deceived. Mr Gladstone on education. His
proposition that inquiry is bad if it leads to change of
religious opinions. Anecdotes of stupidity. Sailing in
search of truth. Captains who avoid the right course.
The condition of society when the schoolmaster overrides the
ecclesiastic. Reason and education ought to precede
faith. Result of honesty. Divines recoil from the honest
truth. Parsons in their pulpit preach what their week-day
precepts oppose. Honesty in ecclesiastical matters is not
the best policy. Divines and the silversmiths of Ephesus.
Examples. An honest parson is persecuted by his fellows:
this insures mediocrity and bigotry. If an author cannot
be persecuted he is avoided. Ecclesiastics persecute
their colleagues, but do not prove them wrong.
Excommunication easier than refutation. What an honest
merchant and divine should do when they discover a diamond
to be paste. Ought the divine to be less honest than the
merchant? The Author's challenge. Conclusion.
I am now about to propound a question which I have heard mooted in quiet
by many, but for which publicity seems to be dreaded by all--_viz_., "Is
there honesty amongst Christians, and especially amongst the hierarchy
of the Churches of England and Rome?"
No one can doubt the importance of the subject; there is not a
thoughtful person who does not, in words at least, scorn to build up his
everlasting belief upon a fable, and who does not affect to be disgusted
with everyone who is deliberately untruthful I speak not now of those
time-servers who regard every artifice to be fair in love, war, and
theology; but only of those earnest minds who are anxious to seek out
and to hold fast that which is true, and who, under all circumstances,
resolve to be honest with themselves. That there may be no doubt as to
the sense in which I use the word, the following may be regarded as,
in my opinion, the synonyms which are properly given in _Webster's
Dictionary_--"Integrity, probity, uprightness, trustiness,
faithfulness, honour, justice, equity, fairness, candour, plain dealing,
veracity." To this may be added--"not bearing false witness."
Presuming that English scholars agree in this definition, let me now
inquire whether "we"--by which term I mean the non-theological class by
profession--have a right to expect "honesty" amongst our teachers--be
they Roman, Anglican, Hibernian, Scottish, Unitarian, Wesleyan, or of
any other body? and, in the next place, whether we get that to which
we are entitled? Presuming that it is necessary to begin with the
foundation, let us first inquire into "our rights," and whence they are
supposed to be derived.
The positions of a learner and a teacher--or a disciple and a
master--are, in some cases, different to what they are in others; for
example, I need not, unless I think it desirable, learn astronomy,
chemistry, the art of telegraphing, or that of ship-building; but if I
do elect to learn any of these matters, and engage a man to instruct
me, I have a legal claim upon him for his services. There is, indeed, a
contract between us--he engaging to teach me, and I agreeing to pay him
for his labour. In my selection of a professor, it is quite possible
that I have not chosen the best; nay, seeing that I require to be
taught, it is nearly certain that I cannot assume the position of a
judge as regards the superiority of one teacher over another. But when
the agreement is once entered into, each of the parties is bound to
perform his part of the contract to the best of his ability. If, for
example, I bargain with a master to teach me Spanish, and I, being
wholly ignorant thereof, am instructed in Portuguese, I have a definite
legal claim for redress.
If, on the other hand, the law, or the custom of the country, compels
me to take a certain class of teachers, whether they are competent or
worthless, I, as one of the community, am justified in investigating the
intellectual power of the professors, individually and collectively, in
every way in my power.
At one period, when autocracy, or tyranny, was supreme, this right was
denied, and the legislators made it a criminal matter for any one to
call in question the nature of the instruction which was given to the
people in matters of politics, religion, and other things, wherein the
government was concerned. At the present time there are few, if any,
states whose ruling powers demand from the people such an abject
submission.
But, although a republic may allow unlimited latitude of opinion in
matters of political economy, there may be a religious section within
it, which consists of those who consent to be led, in matters of faith,
by certain individuals, who, on their parts, are declared to be, by
some power that the laity are disposed to submit to, the only persons
competent to conduct persons to a happy eternity.
Every individual in such a family is associated with the rest by
voluntary ties. He may, if he chooses, inquire into the capacity of his
guide; he is at perfect liberty to analyse his arguments, to inquire
into his allegations, and, speaking generally, to test his truth. If, as
a result of the investigation, any one is satisfied that the teacher is
incompetent, the two are perfectly clear to make new engagements. There
has been no definite contract, nor can there be any legal claim for a
presumed breach thereof.
When, on the other hand, there is a State Religion, supported by
Parliamentary authority, and to which, in one way or another, the
majority of the people must subscribe, each man has as perfect a right
to see that he gets what he pays for, as he has to see that the member
of parliament for whom he votes, does not neglect the interests of the
town which he represents.
As an Englishman, I have no right to call in question the power of the
Pope of Rome, the Patriarch of the Greek Church, the Elder of the Mormon
Communion, the Arch-Pneuma of the Spiritualists, or any other religious
head, to teach his followers any doctrine that he may please. I may
laugh at the "false decretals" of the papacy, and the charlatanerie of
the clairvoyants; but no political right supports me in my calling them
to account for their stewardship.
On the other hand, when I know that the bishops of the Church of England
are parties to the formation of our laws, and I find myself called upon
to pay tithes or dues to individuals of the same establishment, I have
a political right to ascertain, that the persons actually do what they
profess to do for their money or position. If, for example, I live in a
sparsely populated district, I and all my family are dependent upon the
parson of the parish for instruction how to get to heaven; or, as an
alternative, if I do not agree with his doctrine, I may abstain from
being instructed at all. If, on the contrary, I inhabit a large town,
still I am dependent for religious teaching upon the state clergyman,
unless I elect to do without him, and any one else of the same
persuasion, or select some non-conformist preacher who is to me no less
offensive than the parliamentary parson.
When a confraternity has obtained, no matter how, or by what means, a
definite prescriptive right to sell a certain material to the community
at large, the latter have certainly a legal power to see that the stuff
given is according to contract. If a company of millers engage, for
certain privileges, to sell good wheat flour to all comers, the last can
deprive them of their exclusive right, provided that it can be proved
either that the flour is bad, or that it comes from barley, rye, oats,
or potatoes, or is adulterated with gypsum, &c.
Presuming that this argument is tenable, our next inquiry is into that
which our national church professes to sell, or to impart, in return for
its privileges. In the fewest possible words we may say, that its duty
is to impart "truth," or to teach what is, in its learned and educated
opinion, the true religion for life and eternity.
The word truth is one which lies at the root of our question respecting
honesty. Pilate is reported to have said--"What is truth?" We may put
the same question now.
Without saying what "truth" is, we can readily declare what is
"untruth." It is not truth if we, in argument, misrepresent an
adversary; affirm that he made a certain statement, and then oppose--not
the thing said--but some other matter which was not spoken of at all,
and then assert that we have confuted him.
It is not truth to affirm, that observations recently made have been
oftentimes presented before, and always successfully refuted, when
the remarks in question are novel, never have been controverted, and
apparently, are not capable of being disproved.
It is not truth to affirm, that human "authority," which, has been long
acknowledged, can falsify "a fact," or make an unfounded assertion equal
to a reality; or to declare, that one religion is good and another bad,
simply because the speaker believes the matter to be so.
It is not truth to assert, that a certain book, and every part of it,
is the revealed word of God, when it is known to be contradicted by
science--i.e.t by a knowledge of the laws imposed on creation by its
Maker, to be inconsistent with itself, and to contain internal evidence
that it was composed by men of small knowledge and of grovelling
disposition.
It is not truth to affirm, that if God's world proves what is called
God's Book to be wrong, science must be neglected and the Bible upheld.
It is not truth to affirm that God spoke exclusively to one people, when
it is known that the race in question drew nearly, if not quite, all
their religious beliefs, from the neighbours amongst whom they were
thrown.
It is not honest to propound in the pulpit the propriety of examining
the Scriptures daily, and yet to persecute any one who by doing so
becomes convinced of their human origin.
It would be honest, and prove the existence of a love of truth, if every
preacher of every denomination spent as much time in trying the value of
his text-book, as he does now in expounding it and explaining it away.
We should imagine that a minister loved truth, if he were first to ask
himself how he treats the Vedas and Puranas, the Avesta, the Koran, the
Apocryphal Gospels, the Apocrypha, the Book of Mormon, the visions and
prophecies of "Latter-day saints," "Friends," Roman visionaries, and
the oracles delivered at Delphi and elsewhere, and then to treat his own
book with the same measure as he used with the others.
On the other hand, we should regard him as untruthful and dishonest,
if he weighed the books and belief of others with weights and scales
different to those with which he tried his own.
From each minister of religion the people have a right to demand an
impartial inquiry into the absolute value of the doctrines which he
teaches, and an investigation into the foundation, as well as the
superstructure; and they may require, still further, that he, like
Great-heart in Bunyan's story, shall do battle with assailants. When
such a leader professes to fight, but always avoids the shock of
battle, he cannot be regarded either as honest, or as comparable with
Valiant-for-truth in the _Pilgrim's Progress_.
We are then, as laymen, justified in requiring that our spiritual
leaders shall take a conspicuous part in examining the grounds of the
faith which they teach, and that the leaders of the Established Church
shall seek to establish its doctrine upon as firm basis as it is
possible to obtain.
This certainly involves inquiry and discussion upon those points which
modern criticism has prominently advanced.
When we turn to the "Prayer Book," we find that Deacons are required to
say, that they unfeignedly believe all the Canonical Scriptures. Priests
are obliged to affirm that the Holy Scriptures contain sufficiently all
doctrine required of necessity for eternal salvation, through faith in
Jesus Christ, &c. In the consecration of bishops the same, or nearly the
same, formula is gone through. Thus, at the outset of their career, the
ministers of the Church of England commit themselves to, or are required
by law to make, a declaration which will preclude inquiry into the value
of the book on which their teaching is founded; their first step in the
ministry puts it out of their power to be honest, if experience should
teach them more than they knew when young. The bishops and priests,
however, when they subscribe to the opinion that the Bible contains all
things necessary for salvation, do not pledge themselves to the belief
that every sentence, part, division, book, or arrangement of the
Canonical Scriptures is, and must of necessity be, true. Even in the
dawn of ecclesiastical information in England, there was not a belief in
the verbal inspiration of the Bible.
Of late years, when habits of thought and the art of printing have
increased, the knowledge, and consequently, the power of the laity
disproportionally to the advance made by clerics--a strong propensity
to accumulate facts, and to argue thereupon has been very generally
developed, and the increased information obtained has induced steadily
increasing numbers to doubt, not only the verbal inspiration, but even
the historical truth of the Scriptures. When this difficulty occurred,
or rather, when it became recognized, scholars, no matter whether
they were professional or amateur ecclesiastics, divided themselves
involuntarily (we may fairly say, unknowingly, inasmuch as each
individual worked quite independently, in the first place, of another)
into those who believed that, if the Holy Spirit dictated the
Scriptures, he must have seen that his amanuensis wrote correctly; those
who imagined that the Bible was to be taken "in the lump;" and those
who considered that the Scriptures are entirely of human origin, and
absolutely valueless as a guide of faith. Consequently, three schools
have arisen, two of which are essentially ecclesiastic. Of these,
one regards all inquiry into the accepted text as improper, the other
considers that everything should be done to verify the value of the
so-called original Scripture.
Amongst the latter, Dr Colenso, Bishop of Natal, stands out
conspicuously. Of the highest intellectual attainments, trained to close
and scientific inquiry; able, far better than men of meaner capacity, to
weigh the value of "evidence," whether "ancient or modern," he has drawn
the conclusion that the Bible is not what it is generally supposed to
be; in other words, that its historical portions are not trustworthy,
and that there is grave reason to believe its writings to have been
produced for a purpose, which involved dishonesty in the scribe, and in
the promulgator of his writings. The learned doctor was honest in his
investigation, and fearless in announcing his conclusions.
As an upright man, the Bishop of Natal is as completely justified in his
inquiry into the validity or importance of an ancient book, alleged to
be a pearl of great price, a gem or diamond of the first water, as the
official curator of a museum would be, in determining whether a certain
ruby, given into his charge, were real or artificial. Of the necessity
of such an inquiry, the following anecdote, which was told me by the
gentleman concerned, will convince the reader:--
A wealthy lady, of high position in life, sent to a museum, for
exhibition, a number of "precious stones." If they were really what they
were supposed and stated to be, their value would have been reckoned by
thousands of pounds sterling. If accepted as genuine, and found, upon
their restoration to the depositor, to be imitation jewels, the curator
would be liable, not only for their value, but his character for honesty
would be gone; consequently, ere he gave a receipt for the lot, he
tested each. Not one was real!
This man was in the position which Dr Colenso occupies now. The owner of
the jewels was indignant at the idea that the stones were false, and the
apparent insinuation that imitations were being foisted on the public as
realities; but her fury did not alter the fact. If she were artful, her
plan was detected; if she had been deceived, her anger, though useless,
was justified.
On the other hand, there are many Bishops who uphold the verbal
inspiration of the Bible, and will not inquire if the gem be real, or
only test it by plans known to be valueless for the purpose. Some do not
go altogether so far as this, They consider it obligatory upon them to
examine just a little bit, but not to go too deeply, lest they should be
forced to believe that there never was such a man as Moses--a man who
is commonly reported to have written certain books at a distant period.
Some persons seem to think that their hope of happiness in this, as well
as in another world, and not only their own, but that of everybody who
is under their instruction, depends upon their feeling sure that Israel
was once in Egypt--that Abraham begat Isaac, and became the progenitor
of an innumerable offspring, exceeding in number the Indians of
Hindostan, the Assyrians of Mesopotamia, the Egyptians of the Nile, and
the Romans of Italy. Between these two inquirers, if the latter class
can fairly be called such, the issue is distinct. There can be no
difficulty amongst scholars as to the means by which the question ought
to be settled.
An appeal to hard and dry facts is the plan adopted by philosophers. For
men, who have a single eye to discover the truth, it matters little in
what direction their inquiries lead them. Metaphorically speaking, they
may begin a series of investigations, expecting that everything will
lead them northwards, and they end by reaching the south; just as many
an enthusiastic, but little instructed, man has accumulated "pyrites,"
under the impression that it was an ore of gold, and found, on inquiry,
that the material was a sulphuret of iron, and of small commercial
value.
But it is this very possibility of research bringing them to an
undesirable goal, which deters so many of our divines from making any
inquiry. Outwardly, they allow that it is their duty, as leaders, to
examine, not only the condition of their own forces, but the position
and power of those who assail the army which they profess to guide.
Inwardly they find reasons for remaining quiet, and excuse themselves to
their followers in some plausible fashion.
Why, however, should any goal be undesirable which leads us nearer to
truth? Why should any body of professedly learned-men run the risk
of being considered wanting in honesty, or candour, by avoiding their
opponents, whom they are in honour bound to encounter?
The reply to these questions generally runs thus:--"We, as ministers
of the Established Church of England, are bound to be faithful to the
Bible, and to it we must adhere, whatever our own private judgment
may be. We did not make the law; we simply take it as we find it, and,
having sworn to obey it, we do so." This answer would be exhaustive, if
it were the fact that the laity made the law for the theologians. But,
as we know, that the ecclesiastics have, in the last resort always made
laws for themselves, the rejoinder is not conclusive History tells us
how ministers of religion have instructed the people, and how these,
again, have legislated under the tuition of their advisers. When
Paganism was supplanted by Christianity, the change was effected by
preachers, who taught the populace to believe the new doctrine, and who
influenced the minds of the lawmakers. In like manner, when Popery in
England was put down by the Protestants, each party was headed by its
priests. Many a minister, at that period, felt bound to follow what he
believed to be truth, rather than to abide by a vow made in youth;
and they who had upheld the authenticity of Popish miracles, and of
Apocryphal Scriptures, ceased to give credence to them, or to use them
as authorities in matters of religion. These men were honest.
That which has been done by men aforetime, may be done or imitated in
our own day; and our divines have as great a power to examine into the
value of the Bible now, as they had at the Reformation. If they refuse
to make the inquest suggested--in what way, may we ask, do they differ
from the Romanists in the time of Luther, who would not inquire into the
truth of his arguments lest they should be convinced? Can any one who
professes to be a Protestant--a child of the Reformation--honestly
refuse to investigate the grounds of the faith which is in him, and
shelter himself, as Bonner and others did, under the pretext of a
declaration or vow made at ordination?
If those who make the excuse just referred to, are honest, they are
bound to reject every doctrine which they, or their predecessors, have
received from Romish priests, who propounded in adult life, doctrines
different to those which they professed when yet almost children.
To illustrate the tendency of our remarks still further, let us, for a
moment, suppose that the captain of a ship has, from any cause whatever,
adopted a particular "compass" by which he directs his course, and which
perhaps he calls by the name of Faith. All in the vessel are, to a great
extent, dependent upon him for a successful voyage, and a safe arrival
at the desired haven. Seeing how the master-mariner honours the magnetic
needle, every thoughtful passenger will probably consult it in like
manner. One more advanced in knowledge than the rest may desire to test
the instrument by the position of the pole star, and thinking that he
could recognize the latter, might infer that the magnet did not point
truly. This doubt, we will imagine still further, he imparts to the
captain, who, disinclined to distrust his compass, endeavours to
demonstrate that the position of the pole star is doubtful.
In the place of the mariners' compass let us read the "Bible," and,
instead of the pole star, let us substitute "science." We shall then
recognize the position of such men as the Bishop of Winchester and Dr
Colenso--the latter endeavours to test the value of the instrument which
is most used by churchmen by certain well-known means; the former,
on the contrary, aims to demonstrate that what he regards as a true
indicator is so in spite of all which the planets prove to the contrary.
To carry on our metaphor a point further, let us imagine that the
captain and the doubting passenger appeal to the seamen and the other
people on board the barque--the latter telling in simple terms the
grounds of his belief, whilst the former appeals to the passions of
those who have long trusted him, and only notices the arguments of his
opponent to misrepresent them. This is what was done by the Papists, in
every country, at the time of the Reformation, and which more recently
has been done by the Bishops and Archbishops of the Church of England,
when in controversy with the Bishop of Natal Dr Colenso has in
voluminous works, and with a precision which every scholar must admire,
shown that the Old Testament--the "compass" of churchmen--is not what it
is supposed to be. Against his views a new "Bible commentary" has been
issued, with the sanction of the highest ecclesiastical dignitaries; and
in it the authors stoop to misrepresentation! If there were no pretence
of joint authorship, one might imagine that each writer was responsible
only for his own shortcomings; but when there is a parade of great
names, which is intended to demonstrate the almost infallible truth of
everything (except typographical errors), one is bound to treat the
contributors as being on a level with each other, and all hierarchical
coadjutors. How can any one, with a tendency towards fair dealing,
characterize but with the epithet "contemptible dishonesty," a
deliberate quotation from Dr Colenso, which is falsified, that the
fabrication may be refuted? The Bishop of Natal's argument is a just
one, and, although it is only contained in a note and not in the text
itself, is of great weight. It runs thus (Part v., p. 97)--"Of course
the fact that the tabernacle at Shiloh had _doors_ (1 Sam. iii. 15)--
that the lamp was allowed regularly to _go out_ in it (1 Sam. iii. 3),
and that Samuel _slept_ in it, and apparently Eli also (1 Sam. iii. 2,
3), are sufficient to show that this could not have been the 'Mosaic
Tabernacle.'" This is a fair and scholarly statement; the layman
recognizes it as such, and looks to his ecclesiastical superior for an
honest opinion on its value. What does he find? Simply this--Bishop
Browne answers: "The objection (Colenso, Part v., p. 97) that the
Tabernacle (at Shiloh) could not be the tabernacle, in the wilderness,
because it had a 'door' (1 Sam. ii. 22) is rather singular, if we
observe that the words in Samuel, on which the objection is founded--
'The women that assembled at the door of the tabernacle of the
congregation'--are literally a quotation from Exod. xxxviii. 8--'The
women assembling, which assembled at the door of the tabernacle of
congregation.' Of course the word door, fine _pethah_, is as applicable
to a tent door as to a house door, and is constantly used of the door of
the Tabernacle in the Pentateuch."
In this observation of the Bishop of Winchester a false issue is
deliberately raised; the quotation given by Colenso is not touched, and
for it another, wide of the mark, is substituted! In the verse referred
to by the Bishop of Natal the words are--"And Samuel lay until the
morning, and opened the doors of the house of the Lord," &c.--"doors"
being in the original, _dalethoth_--a different word altogether to
_pethah_, and certainly in the plural number. In other language, we may
say that in the _Speaker's Bible_, almost every argument and criticism
of Colenso and his German authorities are left unnoticed and unanswered;
and this, almost the only quotation made, is not a true one! Is this
honest? So gross, in my opinion, is the want of candour shown in this
case, that I, for one, cannot trust a single assertion of the Bishop
of Ely, now translated to Winchester, even when he quotes chapter and
verse, until I have verified the extract.
But the flagrancy of the proceeding is, if it can be, heightened by a
reference to the subject Dr Colenso was endeavouring to show, by those
undesigned coincidences, that hierarchs profess to love so much, and
which they parade with great earnestness when it suits their purpose,
that the tabernacle at Shiloh was not that described in the Pentateuch.
It was perfectly open to Dr Browne to adduce evidence that it was the
same. This he does not do--the scholar can well understand the reason
why, viz., that a close inquiry supports the Bishop of Natal's view. For
example, in 1 Sam. L 9, we find that Eli is sitting "upon a seat by
a post of the temple of the Lord." This sentence is significant in
English, it is much more so in Hebrew. The words "post" and "temple"
certainly are quite incompatible with a tent or tabernacle. In the
Hebrew, the tabernacle is generally spoken of as _ohel_, whilst "temple"
is _heckal_. Still further, the expression, "post of the temple," is
peculiar, because a corresponding one is found only once in the Old
Testament--viz., in Ezek. xli. 21, where the English version has "the
posts of the temple," whilst the marginal reading has "post" The word
_heckal_ is in constant use throughout the later Jewish books, but does
not occur once in the Pentateuch; and it is a significant fact that, in
1 Kings xxi. 1, 2 Kings xx. 18, Ps. xlv. 8, cxliv. 12, Pro. xxx. 28, Is.
xiii. 22, xxxix. 7, Dan. i. 4, the word in question is translated in our
authorized version _palace_.
As the idea of a palace--a royal residence, is totally distinct from a
tent or tabernacle, it is clear that the narrative about Eli, Hannah,
and Samuel, was written by some one to whom the story told in
the Pentateuch was quite unknown. The dishonesty--we speak thus,
controversially--of the bishops concerned in the new commentary is not
only shown in the _suggestio falsi_, but in the _suppressio veri_; and
no amount of skill in argument or of book-learning can, amongst those
who are aware of the fraud, get over the effect which is produced by
the cheat. It is evident, that the questions which the Bishops ask
themselves are--"Since there are so many who are wholly ignorant of this
matter, shall we not do more to uphold current ideas by fraud than by
truth?" and, "Is it not right for us to risk our own souls in support of
a faith which we do not, but which the people do, believe?"
In a time when all men are ignorant enough not to understand what is
history and what pure fable; when they are so careless as not to examine
quotations, made from "authorities," in confirmation of opinions, or
so credulous as to believe anything which a churchman, and,
_par-excellence_, a Bishop, may affirm, it may be regarded by
ecclesiastical writers as a pardonable sin, if not, indeed, a tactical
master stroke, to misrepresent an adversary. But in the present day,
when all educated Englishmen have heard of the false decretals on which
the Popes have founded their claims to superiority, and the astute
legend of Prester John, it is bad policy for a Bishop to found an
argument upon a wrong quotation, or to imagine that a glaring untruth
can by any possibility support his position. For myself, I confess that
I began to read the _Speaker's Commentary_ with interest, inasmuch as
it purported to be an exposition and refutation of the arguments against
the authenticity of certain Biblical writings; but when I found an
English hierarch could so forget his duty to "the truth" as to misquote
such a man as his episcopal brother, the Bishop of Natal, I abstained
from a farther perusal, for I found the necessity of verifying
quotations involved more time than I could afford. Dr Colenso has,
however, sufficiently shown the viciousness of the new commentary, and
there is no necessity for a second investigator.
From what has been said, we have shown that the members of the Church
of England, and all Protestant dissenters, have a right to expect from
their teachers an opinion, founded upon learned inquiry, "whether the
objections made by scholarly critics against the inspiration of the
Bible are well founded," and that ministers of all denominations, as a
body, not only shirk the duty, but persecute such of their fraternity as
venture to do so.
When an individual in the community accepts a trust and does not fulfil
it, he is amenable to the law; and if it can be proved that there has
been wilful negligence, the trustee may be punished. This does not,
however, apply directly to the clergy, for the trust which is confided
to them is to preach and teach from the Bible. That, certainly, is
what they engage to do before the law, but the very essence of their
existence as ministers of religion is, that they shall instruct men
in the way of salvation. This trust, which is never put into legal
phraseology, is proclaimed to be in existence by every preacher; and
each minister, by implication or assertion, declares that he is desirous
of exercising this trust to the best of his ability. If, then, the
real value of his leadership is challenged, he ought, as a champion,
to defend it. He does so in every point, except that which is most
essential He will discuss circumcision with a Jew, infant christening
with a baptist, purgatory with a popish priest, bishops with a
presbyterian, confession with a ritualist, and the like. There must,
then, be some cause why Revelation should not be treated of.
If we consult human nature, the only causes to which we can assign this
reticence are, conscientious cowardice and dishonesty. The first is,
by many persons, regarded as a duty--they are taught that it is sin to
doubt; the second is not called by its right name. Yet, as we have said
elsewhere, our religious societies are founded upon the principle of
sowing doubt broadcast; and we denounce the pious frauds which invented
winking virgins and bleeding nuns. Surely, if there be any truth in the
line--"An honest man's the noblest work of God," it is most essential
that they, who style themselves His ministers, ought to be conspicuously
honourable, candid, and thoroughly trustworthy in matters of doctrine as
well as of morality.
The subject on which we are now treating has ramifications so wide, that
it is difficult to see the end of the branches. Amongst the most obvious
is the influence which it has upon the matter of public education--one
which occupies a large portion of the interest of our nation at the
present time.
In our preceding vol. II., p. 113, we have a note to the effect that
there is much doubt upon the subject whether faith ought to be drilled
into the minds of our youth prior to an acquisition of, or the power of
using, their reasoning faculty, and we remarked that the question is far
too extended to be treated in a casual note.
The matter was shortly afterwards discussed in parliament, but not one
of the orators ventured to touch upon the point involved. If we ask
ourselves "the reason why," it is probable that the answer would
run--because all the interlocutors did not venture to be honest; by
which I mean, did not wish to utter, in distinct language, the
opinions that they held, and the end which they sought. There are
some legislators who regard moral cowardice as a virtue, and political
dishonesty as a desirable kingcraft.
If an observer of the parliamentary debates, to which we refer, was also
a diligent and thoughtful reader of orations made in country towns and
metropolitan districts, by preachers and teachers of all our various
religious denominations, he would readily come to the conclusion that
there was something underlying every speech, which was never allowed to
come to the surface--a something which each was perfectly cognizant of,
but which it would be unmannerly to name, or even to hint at strongly.
It is not, in public meetings, or in parliament, permitted to any
speaker to accuse an adversary of falsehood or dishonesty.
Yet, what an orator may not judiciously say of particular individuals,
a writer may assert of a class, or of a single person, if he is a
representative of a body. I may, for example, accuse the Pope of
dishonesty in misrepresenting certain well-known facts. I may equally
charge controversial writers with fraud, when they falsify the words or
arguments of an opponent. Whoever frames such an indictment is, however,
bound to take into consideration the possibility of there being an
unintentional error. It may, for example, be true that Popes never see
newspapers which tell the truth, and that divines may quote without
ever reading the book which they profess to criticise. In both cases
the critic acquits them of malice, but only to convict them of culpable
ignorance.
When we investigate how this bears upon education, we ask ourselves--"Do
we, as historians, or in our capacity of reading men, know that the
pretensions of the Church of Rome are founded upon, or are bolstered
up by, assertions which every learned man knows, or ought to know, are
unworthy of belief?"
To be more particular, let us propound the question--Does any Papal
hierarch believe that Francis of Assisi received certain bodily marks on
his hands and feet direct from Jesus? or that any portion of the blood
of a man has been preserved for ages in the Cathedral of Naples, as
having once belonged to a person who is called by the same name as
the first month in our year? We might readily increase our queries by
remarking about St. Dennis, St. George, St Fou-tin, and a variety of
others who appear in the Roman heaven. Our purpose, however, will be
answered if we ask, whether the thoughtful amongst us do not object to
the Papal faith, because those who proclaim it are not to be trusted?
If we listen to energetic Protestant divines, we hear much of "lying
wonders," wrought by Antichrist, which are calculated even to deceive
the very elect. These men frequently quote such passages as the
following:--"Trust ye not in lying words, saying, The temple of the
Lord, the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, are these" (Jer.
vii. 4); "They have committed villany in Israel, and have spoken lying
words in my name, which I have not commanded them" (Jer. xxix. 23);
"Have ye not spoken a lying divination," &c. (Ezek. xiii. 7, 8, 9); "Then
shall that Wicked be revealed, whose coming is with lying wonders, and
with all deceivableness of unrighteousness; and for this cause God shall
send them strong delusions, that they should believe a lie," &c. (2
Thess. ii. 8-12). Indeed, the main objection to the Roman Church, amongst
all those who are acquainted with its secret history, is that it is
founded, and still exists, upon a foundation of fraud.
There are many who consider that the Churches of England and of Scotland
have not a better basis; but both have so many friends in Great
Britain, that the sins of neither are closely examined, except by their
adversaries.
Each sectarian is fully alive to the want of good faith shown by every
other division of the Church of Christ; and not only so, but we have
seen, in our own times, a ruler in Siam who knows about them too (see
_Wheel of the Law_, by H. Alabaster; Triibner & Co., London, 1871), and
is perfectly alive to the fact that we deceive ourselves.
It is a part of human nature that each individual has a propensity to
deceive himself or herself. A child, who has been told that Old Bogy
lives in a certain cupboard, will not go and look therein; a man who
adores a lovely wife will not believe in her frailty; and a fond woman
will not credit even her father, when he tells her that her admirer is a
worthless scoundrel.
We grant this readily, but we add the proviso, that we only allow
ourselves to be deceived by our own friends. It would be, to all of us,
a frightful infliction if our sons or daughters were to tell us that
we were under strong delusions, and believing in lies. Consequently,
everyone desires that his family shall have a similar faith with his
own.
At the present time, however, more conspicuously than at any other since
printing was invented, there is, in society, a vast number of men who
believe, from their critical inquiries, that all religionists trust
in lying vanities which do not profit. These individuals have become
sceptics, in consequence of education having led them to think for
themselves. Being opposed to all, they are friendly with none; and
although they are not aggressive, as a rule, they are vigorously
attacked by every sect which steadily refuses to come to the light.
Under these circumstances every hierarch argues: "The education which
frees the mind from all the shackles of superstition is prejudicial to
us, who earn our living hy making fetters, fixing them, and relaxing
them when duly paid to do so. A sound teaching--a style of instruction
that will induce the rising generation to examine into our pretensions
will cut the ground from under our feet. We must, therefore, endeavour
to limit, in some considerable degree, our tuition." Like the Jesuits in
Austria and of to-day, they will cram the memory, but not exercise
the understanding; they will crowd the mind with lying statements,
and prohibit all inquiry. Sectarians, therefore, as a rule, object to
education, unless it has a religious element in it. They agree in this
point, but differ as to the style of faith which is to be taught Hence
all the difference of opinion, for as the sectarians cannot decide upon
what faith is to be taught, they object to all instruction whatever. Are
they honest?
If, instead of nursing a private idea, each legislator were boldly to
say what he desired to obtain and to avoid, there might be some chance
of united action. But when all pretend to work in common, yet not one is
absolutely in earnest, and all, more or less, play at "make believe," no
valuable end will be obtained.
One politician, whose memory is tenacious, and his temerity great,
cannot bear the idea that the British mind should approximate to that of
the Germans; and, whilst he eulogizes education, he denounces Strauss.
Not because the latter is not a man of profound learning, but because
the cultivation of his intellect has led him to certain conclusions
which are distasteful to an English politician. This is not honesty.
Again, our bishops and the priesthood generally say, "Education is a
desirable thing; it is wrong for man, who has a soul to be saved, not
to seek out the way of salvation." But if, in the course of inquiry, a
scholar imagines that their way is incorrect, he is anathematized, and
his fellows are instructed to believe that no one can find comfort for
the soul except in the way patronized by the Church. This, again, is
not honest. But--and the word is of mighty import--if, instead of saying
this distinctly, a few individuals of high standing in the Protestant
community deliberately, and with the intention to deceive--or to retain
people in the bonds which astute predecessors have thrown around the
laity, state, as their belief, that which their critical knowledge tells
them is untrue, or withhold knowledge of importance, because they deem
its publication detrimental to ecclesiastical institutions, they are not
simply dishonest--they are culpable, and guilty of spiritual murder.
My meaning may be illustrated by one or two pertinent anecdotes: The
captain of a man-of-war was doubtful of the existence of a rock laid
down upon a chart. One day at dinner he announced to his company the
disbelief which he had, adding, that if the spot were truly described,
the ship would strike directly. It did so, and few survivors were left
to tell the tale. The commander judiciously elected to perish with his
vessel. Had he told his officers, and the distinguished passengers whom
he was carrying, what he was doing, it is certain that the danger would
have been avoided.
Another ship captain was addressed by a civilian who was on board,
and told that a hurricane was approaching, which might be avoided by
steering in a certain direction; but, metaphorically speaking, the
bishop would not listen to the layman. The typhoon came, the vessel was
partially dismasted; then the passenger was consulted, and by his aid
the ship got out of the danger.
The civilian was well read, not in ancient books, but in modern science;
the master mariner knew only his log-book, compass, and "the rule of
thumb."
A person who loses his ship because he is too stupid to believe a chart,
or the rules of a science, which every scholar may test, deserves the
name of an imbecile, and our Board of Trade would deprive him of the
power to do any more mischief as a captain; but bishops and priests may
pilot their vessel wrongly, for none have any jurisdiction over them,
provided always that they steer in the old channels. It matters not
how far the way may be shifted, all is supposed to be right, if the old
landmarks are still used.
To make our meaning still more clear, let us imagine ourselves a
nation of mariners, and of ocean-travellers. We go to school, and learn
astronomy, trigonometry, geography, physics, and the like; yet, when
we are at sea in any ship whatever, we must neglect our knowledge, and
trust implicitly to the captain of our ship. We know that we are, in
reality, going southwards, when our proper destination lies to the
north: for us it is easy to read the stars, and thus to test both the
chronometer and the compass; must we, then, be quiet because we have
embarked in a vessel belonging to a certain "line," which is commanded
by a master appointed by the "firm" or "company" to which the barque
belongs. What is the value of education unless it enables us, when
necessary, to find whether we are in the right way or not?
Let us, still further, suppose that we remonstrate with the captain, and
that he, in place of arguing the matter fairly, endeavours to override
our objections by quoting from ancient geographers, to demonstrate that
what we believe to be the wrong is, in reality, the only true way to go;
we may be silenced, probably until we accidently discover in the ship's
library, a dissertation proving that the old traveller's charts are
worthless. When we find out that, what will be our opinion of the
captain? Can we believe him to be honest?
If we now were to remonstrate with our naval dictator, and he were to
rejoin--"My worthy brothers, I know that you are right, and that I
have been wrong. I have, indeed, known it from the time I began to
be commander, but my living depends upon my belief in old charts and
ancient compasses. I dare not change my plan, for my masters would
dismiss me. They know--at least I feel convinced that they are aware,
that the old sailing directions are wrong; but they have not the courage
to say so, or to alter them--and if I do so, they will cashier me."
Is the "firm" or "company" honest? and if we are to mete out degrees of
culpability, to whom must the severest punishment be awarded? Surely,
in the case of the Church of England, to her Bishops, who, knowing, as
scholars, that their compass and charts are incorrect, yet oblige those
under their command to steer by them--thus compelling the men who ought
to be standard-bearers in the forefront of intellectual work, either to
be silent, or to fight at a disadvantage.
It is the knowledge of the duplicity of a vast number of intelligent
divines, which has induced laymen to take the business of education out
of the hands of the clergy as a body. The Protestant believes that a
Jesuit will not teach correct history; the Romanist feels certain
that, even in biography, evangelical narratives cannot be trusted; and
Nonconformists generally feel that they cannot rely upon the instruction
given by those of a different sect.
It is desirable to sketch, if possible, what would be the condition of
society if, in the place of the clergy, there was a set of men trained
to the office of instructor, and that all individuals in the kingdom
were compelled to attend school for a definite period in their youth. In
the first place, nothing would be taught which is not known to be true.
After having mastered the rudiments of knowledge, the art of reading,
writing, and ciphering, the students would be taught to train their
minds in drawing inferences from facts, and the art of passing from
imperfect knowledge to certainty. They would be schooled into habits of
exactness, and the necessity for careful inquiry before they believed an
assertion to have the same power as a fact Those whose inclination led
them to study one or more of the arts or sciences, drawing, painting,
sculpture, designing, weaving, chemistry, engineering, building, and
a host of others, would learn that in every one of them knowledge and
precision are required to ensure success.
When the instructor found that his pupils were sufficiently trained to
the exercise of reasoning, he would then proceed to explain the ideas
which have been entertained by various people about the existence of
beings, other than those which can be recognized by the senses. He would
lead his class through the geological history of our planet, and point
out the sequence of events from the latest formation, to the primary
rocks; on his way he would linger on the nature of ancient plants and
animals; from our earth he would lead them to a study of the stars, and
then point out how very natural is the opinion that all the universe had
a designer.
Then, after giving a history of the belief in ancient times, he
would gradually descend to our own. He would critically examine the
pretensions of any person who had, in former ages, asserted, or who
proclaimed now, that he or she knew all about this presumed Creator, and
was charged to communicate that knowledge to mankind. After
explaining the critical test by which such an assumed mission might be
examined--viz., by accurate knowledge of the earth and of mankind, he
would apply this trial to all known pretenders to inspiration.
As a result, his pupils might prefer one to another, or refuse
to believe in all which have hitherto appeared. In any case, each
individual would enter upon the form of faith which he selected with
full knowledge of the facts in favour of it. He would, therefore, be
a disciple worth having. If, on the other hand, he disbelieved all
pretenders to inspiration, his condition would be the result of
deliberate reasoning upon ascertained facts, and not built, as
all religion now is, upon parrot lore, taught in childhood, ere
thoughtfulness has begun to grow.
Assuming that men were thus trained by honest and able instructors,
all those people who live upon the weaknesses and the ignorance of the
multitude would cease their endeavours to prey upon mankind, and to get
a living by playing upon the fears which so many persons have of the
unknown. There would then be no religious wars or contests--no popes,
prelates, priests, nor deacons. Quackery of all kinds would cease, and
statesmen would all agree in endeavouring to procure for mankind the
greatest amount of available happiness. This would be the result of
honesty. But from such a picture many men absolutely recoil As the
effect of training has been to make them believe that unsubstantial
things are of sovereign importance, they cannot endure the idea of man
being wholly rational; and they insist, as does the late Premier of
England, that, if scientific schooling of the mind leads men to neglect
what some call Revelation, the plan must be radically bad and worthless.
But to eulogise education and to deprecate its results is dishonest.
This political tenet or practice resembles that of many a parson, who
tells his hearers from the pulpit that they are to "take no thought for
the morrow, for the morrow will take thought for the things of itself;"
"they are not to take thought for life, for food, for raiment; nor to
lay up for themselves treasures upon earth" (Matt vi. 19, 25, 34), and on
the week-day urges them to lay by a store against the time of sickness
or old age. Such double-dealing is dishonest, and is unworthy of a
thoughtful man. If Jesus was right, why not enforce his teaching? if he
was wrong, why not say so?
Is it possible that any minister in politics, or religion, can believe
that "Honesty is the best policy," and yet act with double-dealing? Can
any person, who has power to think, believe that he will be respected
when he, on a Sunday, preaches improvidence as being taught by the
Almighty, and on a Monday proclaims that men are wicked who do not make
a provision for the future? If such people were honest with themselves,
they would soon discover that the doctrine propounded from the pulpit is
a Buddhistic one, acted upon by all the early disciples of Sakya Muni,
and in a conspicuous manner by himself. Yet, if a parson were to be
candid thus far to himself, he would probably say--"I cannot afford
to be honest in this matter openly, and I must keep this knowledge to
myself." Interest, unfortunately, determines the actions, even of our
divines, more than a rigid uprightness.
We are thus at the foundation of those causes which are in operation
to make the thoughtful laity distrustful of the clergy--it is, that
the latter are not honourable or strictly veracious--they preach
one doctrine, and act upon another. Honesty is on their lips, but
self-interest in their hearts. From the Pope to the humblest deacon,
there is a conscious reticence in every mind--an inner belief that their
pretensions are not tenable, yet an outward determination to proclaim
them at all hazards; like the silversmiths of Ephesus, they all unite in
the belief that "their craft is in danger" when the apostles of reason
appear.
Far be it from me to assert that all the clergy are dishonest in
the full meaning of the word. I believe that many of them have such
undeveloped minds, or such mean intellectual capacities, that they are
absolutely unable to think upon any subject which has not been drilled
into them when their brains were childish and ductile. Others, again,
have been schooled into the belief that "doubt" and "the devil" are
identical, and who pray to be defended from both--with them, "to
inquire" is a temptation of Satan, and so is to be manfully resisted;
others, again, say to themselves, and sometimes even to their
friends--"I know what will follow if I go into 'the evidences'--I dare
not do it, and prefer to remain in my present condition." Others, again,
say to their conscience--I am paid to expound a certain book, in a
certain way; I cannot afford to give up my position; consequently I will
neither hear of nor argue upon either the volume or the doctrine. There
are, again, some few religionists who, by constantly encouraging a blind
faith, and repressing all intellectual doubts, come at length to believe
their position impregnable, and who trust it because it is, as it
were, always kept under a glass-case. Some such I know, or have known,
personally; and have heard from their own lips how their very accurate
knowledge of the Bible has made them doubt its inspiration, and
how "they have wrestled with God in prayer"--to use their own
expression--until the temptation to distrust has been changed into a
childlike confidence. Men like these are not dishonest to the world,
they are only so to themselves.
The career of one of my acquaintances has been so striking, that
it deserves a record. The man of whom I speak was one of powerful
intellect, and of an inquiring turn of mind; but he was in holy orders,
and had schooled himself never to investigate the Bible's claim to
inspiration, or anything connected with religion. He faithfully did the
ordinary duties of a minister according to his lights; but throughout
his ministrations, in the composition and delivery of every sermon,
there was a powerful undercurrent of the mind which was constantly
saying, without using words--"You know that you are not honest." Prayer
did not subdue this mental conflict, and day by day the undercurrent
grew stronger. It was, however, resolutely opposed, and an outward
orthodoxy rigidly kept up. Of the throes of such a man, when he was
quietly alone, few but those who have felt them can have an idea. Under
their influence the brain gave way, and insanity was the reward of
a resolute determination to be orthodox against personal conviction.
Similar cases are not uncommon, when faith opposes reason.
It is very doubtful whether ordinary laymen have an adequate idea of the
extent of clerical dishonesty existing amongst us, not only in the seats
of learning, but in our towns, cities, and villages. As I have had much
correspondence and conversation with many ministers of religion, I have
formed the opinion that parsons of all denominations regard themselves
much in the same light as trade unionists and non-union men, the two
parties look upon each other as hostile. The former, who call themselves
the orthodox, keep up a sort of spy system upon those whose opinions
they fear, because they are not in the union. Such men, if they had a
chance, would not scruple to "ratten" an adversary. They judge of a man
by the books which they chance to see in his library, book-cases, or
upon his table; and, without the manliness to confront, they have the
weakness to backbite those whose mind is more robust than their own.
As a physician, I have been consulted by a Church of England minister,
who was suspected by the rest of the ministers in his town of being a
non-union man. Of strong mind, he did not preach the usual jargon which
the pulpit delights in. Irons upon _Prophecy_ and Inman's _Ancient
Faiths_ had been seen in his study, and he spoke approvingly of Colenso.
As a consequence, he was watched in the pulpit and in the street. He was
followed to the homes of poverty, and sick folk were visited, that the
nature of his ministrations might be searched out. He was visited by
persons of all classes, who, taking their cue from the New Testament,
strove to entangle him in his talk. Being married, and having a family,
and no means of subsistence, save his church living, this trade union
persecution made him miserable, and seriously injured his health. But he
was resolute not to be dishonest, and held on his way. I was, he assured
me, the only person whom he knew that could appreciate his condition,
and he was most thankful for my sympathy and advice. He left my house
already improved in health; and the feeling that he had a friend to whom
he might always apply, enabled him to bear his persecution manfully.
He still retains his position, notwithstanding all the wiles and
"picketings" of the trade unionists.
This spy system, mentioned in the above example, is associated with an
attempt to discover and apply backstairs influence--those who have
the power of making appointments in the church, the chapel, or the
meeting-house, are studied, and their opportunities to remove a
non-unionist taken advantage of by clerical "By-ends," who endeavour to
shape their judgment according to that of their patrons.
This dishonesty reacts upon itself. Men who preach habitually one set of
doctrines to a congregation, tie themselves and their understanding down
to the low level of the majority of mediocrities; and as this level has,
under such circumstances, a tendency to lower itself, the clergy have
been compelled to fall, with their patrons, far down in the intellectual
scale, and the intelligence and educational status of ministers of all
denominations sinks annually lower. The proprieties of society prevent
me from repeating what has come to my ears from the lips or pens of
distinguished clerics. It will be enough if I utter my belief that one
or more outspoken laymen will do more good to religion, and advance the
interests of society more, than all ecclesiastical unionists. In this
and the preceding volumes it has been my aim to be thoroughly honest. In
some things of small moment, such as Greek accents, Hebrew points, &c.,
it is probable I have been faulty. I will even allow, willingly, that a
more perfect Hebrew scholar than myself may esteem my etymons fanciful
and incorrect. My work having been done in the midst of constant
interruptions, I concede that, to accomplished bookworms, it must appear
disjointed. But, with all its faults, it is honest; and, being so, I
claim the right to challenge any one who chooses to enter the lists, and
encounter me honourably, to a knightly combat. I am sure that my aim has
been, and is yet, to elicit truth. To me vituperation, because I have
run foul of what are called established doctrines, has no more influence
than it had upon the prime movers of any revolution. A foul blow, such
as iniquitous misrepresentation, would probably anger me for a moment,
yet it would nerve me, in the course of a few hours, to make an
onslaught more furious than ever. With a literary rascal one cannot
observe the strict laws of knighthood, except indeed, those which govern
the relations of the noble and the varlet.
I make this challenge the more boldly, because the so-called orthodox
cannot persecute me by those meannesses which they employ against each
other. Having no ecclesiastical status, I have no penalty to dread from
frightened bishops or malignant priests. In the face of such a defiance
the clerical party must fight fairly, or slink away as cravens. One
condition, however, I must make with any one who enters the lists--viz.,
that any misrepresentation, such as that made about Bishop Colenso by
Dr Browne of the See of Winchester, shall be regarded as _ipso facto_--a
signal of defeat.
To return to the idea which is enunciated at the early part of this
essay, let us contemplate what would be, or rather, what ought to be,
the duty of an honest man, whose aim is to defend the faith which he
professes, and to prove that the book which he reveres is deserving of
his confidence.
It is probable that, if a merchant had in his possession a bill,
or promissory note, which some person had examined carefully, and
pronounced to be a forgery, he would never think of parading it before
his customers as a valid "asset." Yet, as I write the sentence, memory
recalls to my mind that traders have done this very thing, and have
counted what they ought to have known were bad debts, or fraudulent
bills of exchange, amongst their securities for money; and that, when
the parties so acting have become bankrupt, their proceedings have been
severely punished by the authorities, as being dishonest and fraudulent.
The analogy is an useful one, inasmuch as it enables me to ask the
question--"Ought the morality of a 'divine' to be inferior to that
practised by a merchant or banker?" Still further, let us inquire
whether we should have a high opinion of a trader, who endeavoured
to palm off upon us, as a genuine diamond, an article which had been
publicly declared to be a bit of "paste," and whether we should be
satisfied with his excuse--"I believe everything is a gem that goes by
the name of a precious stone."
In the course of this and our preceding volumes we have, as plainly as
words could express our meaning, enunciated our conclusions upon certain
Biblical difficulties. We have, at least, endeavoured to be honest; we
have not misrepresented those with whose opinions we differ, nor have
we tried to shirk any question, however difficult it may have been. We
claim a corresponding degree of honesty from those who profess to be
authorised guides--and certainly are in the position at present of
national leaders in religion.
We are not like an unfortunate clerk in "holy orders," who can be
silenced by law. We are, on the contrary, a stranger knight who comes to
a tourney, and claims the right to combat with the most redoubtable of
the champions of their court and kingdom. Still further, we assume the
power to write those down as cowards who, upon any pretence whatever,
decline to compete in the lists with us.
In the days of chivalry there was not a knight who would not have been
regarded as "craven," if he declined a combat because his challenger
did not speak or write French correctly, or had a speck of rust on his
armour, a dint in his shield, or a hole in his breastplate. Yet, in
these degenerate days, we see that poltroons refuse to entertain the
arguments of a writer who, from any cause whatever, appears to be
inaccurate in Hebrew points, or consonants, or Greek accents, or
transliteration. For ourselves, we regard every excuse which is framed
to avoid meeting a fairly stated argument as a proof of weakness, and
when it is uttered by a professional champion, as an act of cowardice.
When such champions are paid by a state to uphold the honour of their
country, to avoid a challenge by evasion is dishonesty. There was,
however, in knightly days, some established law of chivalry that no
champion need fight a "squire" or "varlet;" but, on the other hand, no
nobleman could refuse to enter the lists on the plea that his challenger
had a different faith to his own. Combats between Christians and Paynim
were common. Consequently, we cannot regard a bishop justified in
declining a fair challenge, because he is invited to enter the lists by
an "Infidel."
Considering myself as an university graduate and an English gentleman,
entitled to give a literary challenge, I make no scruple to enter the
lists, and invite champions to break a lance with me in favour of their
patron saint or lady.
I assert that their tutelary saints--Adam, Abraham, David, Moses,
Solomon, and the prophets, are imaginary beings, or, where real, were
not as worthy as they are supposed to have been. I defy scholars to
prove that the Israelites were ever, as a body, in Egypt; that they
were delivered therefrom by Moses; that the people wandered during forty
years in "the desert;" received a code of laws from Jehovah on Sinai;
and were, in any sense whatever of the words, "the chosen people of
God."
I assert that the whole history of the Old Testament is untrue, with the
exception of a few parts which tell of unimportant events--e.g., it is
probable that the Jews fought with their neighbours, as the Swiss have
done in modern days--but I do not believe the tale about Samson any more
than that of William Tell.
I assert that there is not a single true prophecy in the whole Bible,
which can be proved to have been written before the event to which it
is assumed to point, or which is superior, in any way, to the "oracles"
delivered in various ancient lands.
I assert that the whole of what, is called the Mosaic law had
no existence in the days of David, Solomon, and the early Hebrew
chieftains--or kings--if they are thought to deserve the title.
Here there is no room for evasion--the issue is clear; the cause to be
adjudged by combat is unmistakable. As the weapons on both sides
must necessarily be literary--the pen, and not lance or spear, it is
advisable to say a few words thereupon. In argument I do not recognize
that style of logic which considers that the words "it may be" are equal
to "it is."
I am induced to make this remark, because in theological works, the two
forms are constantly used as if they were identical. Many years ago, a
near relative, staying in my house, was preparing for ordination in the
Church of England, and amongst other hooks, had a certain work of the
late Cardinal Wiseman, for perusal--with the intention of collecting
materials for refuting it. He told me that the Papal Archbishop was too
strong for him, and requested my aid. As a result, I became familiar,
not only with many dogmatic writings of the Roman, but also of the
Anglican, Church. All of them had, in my estimation, the same logical
fault. Their authors imagined that any given point is proved when it
can be shown that the occurrence in question _may_ have happened. At
a subsequent period I discovered that this was the prevalent argument
amongst writers in my own profession. It has, indeed, been supposed
generally, that success in proving an opponent to be wrong, is the same
as demonstrating your own propositions to be right.
The writers in the _Speaker's Commentary_ upon the Bible have not
advanced beyond this. A thousand such commonplaces as fill its pages,
are worthless to the philosophical inquirer, and I no more regard them,
than a knight would a targe and lance made of barley-sugar.
My challenge, however, is not confined to the subject of the Old
Testament; I affirm that the New Testament is equally untrue--although
not to the same degree. Yet, as in the latter, there are not so many
asserted facts, there cannot be so many points for cavil. To be more
specific: I assert that the history of Jesus was framed upon that of
Sakya Muni, and very probably at Alexandria, long after the death of
the son of Mary. I do not deny the existence of Jesus; but I assert that
every miracle which is told respecting him--and the narrative of his
miraculous conception, and of the marvels occurring at his birth, have
no foundation in fact.
It is unnecessary to repeat what I have already said upon such points as
"original sin," "the fall of man," and "the need of a Saviour."
In what I now say or write, I am perfectly honest. I have not been paid
to preach a certain doctrine, whether my understanding assents to it
or not I affirm, moreover, that the comfort in which I live, is wholly
unbroken by any fears for the future; and that I look back upon the
period when my days and nights were made wretched by superstition, and
rejoice that I am emancipated from the shackles of Ecclesiastics. "The
Church," and every sect of it, which is known in Christendom, is, in my
opinion, unfit to be trusted by thoughtful human beings. Its votaries
are only happy in proportion to their power of forgetting its doctrines,
or explaining them away. Yet all, as I said in the first chapter of
my second volume, agree "to make believe," and by dint of persistently
doing so, end in persuading themselves that they are clothed with lovely
garments--which have no existence, save in the opinion of the wearer.
My whole life has been passed amongst religionists of more or less
piety. I have known them in public and in private, in their connection
with the world, and their relations with wife, children, and servants. I
am also familiar with some who are avowed free-thinkers. As an impartial
judge, and certainly having the desire to be an honest one, I declare
that the so-called irreligion or infidelity of the latter makes them
better citizens of the world, better fathers of a family, and
better priests to those who are struggling with misfortune, than the
religion--orthodox or non-conformist--of the former induces them to
become.
If there were in reality, as there was once in fable, a domain in which
every one was constrained to speak the truth; and if, still farther, one
could carry thereto every religionist, and inquire into his belief, I
feel sure that those whom the professed Christians affect to despise as
infidels, would be the only ones who would be found faithful in private,
to the principles which they profess in public. If, for an example,
the question were put to both "What is honesty?" the answer of the
free-thinkers would be--"Doing to others, in every position of life,
that which you would wish others to do to you;" the reply of the
dogmatic would be the same, with the important addition--"Except in
matters of faith."
My readers must not imagine that I am hasty or unscrupulous in what is
passing from my mind to my pen. There never was a time in which I
have felt more deeply that my duty, as an independent man, is to speak
plainly. On the other hand, there is not one single religionist of my
acquaintance, to whom the words--"Ye know not what manner of spirit ye
are of" (Luke ix. 55)--do not apply.
On the shelves of my library are books written by almost all classes of
authors, and in many different languages. It has been a self-enforced
duty to compare their contents, and to endeavour, still further, to
elicit from those who are not writers, information which may assist me
in forming a correct idea upon any particular point. Up to the present
time I have not found one single work, which has relation to the
religion of opponents, and is written by a parson, thoroughly
trustworthy or honest Everyone is guilty, either of the _suppressio
veri_ or _suggestio falsi_--generally of both. A book emanating from a
priest is bad, that from a bishop is worse. Colenso, whom I regard as
the only thoroughly truthful member of the episcopal hierarchy, is the
one who is more foully treated by religionists than any other minister
has ever been--"Tis true, 'tis pity, and pity 'tis, 'tis true."
We may be pardoned, if we close this chapter by the expression of our
views as to the religion which will prevail when men have thought as
much upon their future life as upon their present, and are honest with
themselves:
1. They will try to form some distinct idea of what would be to them
a heaven; but, as they will be wholly unsuccessful, they will cease to
speculate upon it.
2. They will cease to fear a hell, knowing that, if there be any
immortal part of man, it must be immaterial; they will not believe that
it can be tormented by material fires, forks, and furies.
3. They will cease to pay any attention to men who call themselves
prophets, divine messengers, or vicars of God on earth, whether they use
lying wonders or not.
4. Instead of constantly cogitating how much they can sin against, and
yet get pardon from, some unknown deity, they will recognize the laws
of nature for their guide, and live in communities as their reason
dictates. The future will be left wholly in the power of the Creator.
5. There will be no belief in a trinity, in a virgin mother of God, in
intercessors of any kind whatever between human beings and the invisible
God; each man and woman will be independent and alone in the presence of
the Supreme.
6. Man will no longer try to usurp the place of God, and persecute his
fellow mortal on religious grounds.
7. There will be no priests or ministers of religion; but there will be
instructors in science, in the laws of life, and moral order; there will
be magistrates to enforce social propriety, and establishments where the
insane and the criminal can be secluded.
8. There will be no strife about religion, for each will attend to his
own personal concerns.
9. The laws of nature will be studied as regards marriage and family;
the infected will not be allowed to perpetuate a feeble race, nor the
diseased infant be pampered, that it may live to a sickly and useless
maturity.*
* We may add, that there will then be neither silly women
nor crotchety men, who will encourage free trade in
fornication, and the diffusion of loathsome diseases, and
endeavour to promote unnecessary suffering by their
opposition to the methods of avoidance.
10. No law will be made but that which is drawn from a study of the ways
of the Creator, and the proper requirements of His creatures.
11. Every pretender to revelation, or inspiration, will be incarcerated
as a rogue or a lunatic.
12. The aim of all will be individual and general comfort, and as much
happiness as is compatible with humanity.
When each does to others as he would be done by, the millennium, so much
talked of, will have come.
APPENDIX.
27th March, 1875.
Dear Dr Inman,
At pp. 11 and 81 of your new volume, the proof-sheets of which you were
good enough to show me, you intimate that an earlier origin can be found
for all Hebrew feasts and observances excepting the Sabbath. It would
appear, from discoveries made and works published since you began to
write, that you need not make even this exception. There are, I think,
plain indications of a Sabbath among the Egyptians, and proofs of its
observance by the Assyrians.
Dr G. G. Zerffi, in a note appended to Mr Tyssen's _Origin of the Week_*
says--"Judging from the Egyptian mythology, we are justified in assuming
that they had some correct notions of the division of time. Their eight
gods of the first order point to an incarnation of the cosmical forces,
or the planetary system. The twelve gods of the second order undoubtedly
presided over the twelve months of the year; whilst the seven gods of
the third order were to watch over the seven days of the week..... The
Teutons have inherited the division, not only of the week in seven
days, but also the names by which these days are called, from the
Indians....." (Bohlen's _Das alte Indien_; _Toth_, by Dr Uhlemann;
and Bunsen's _Egypt's Place in History_; Tacitus, Suidas, Pliny, and
Amosis).
* The Origin of the Week Explained, by A. D. Tyasen, B.C.L.,
M.A.; Williams & Noigate, 1875.
These, perhaps, are only what I have called them, indications of a
Sabbath, since it is conceivable that a week of seven days might exist
without one day being more sacred than another. A plainer indication may
be found in the Hymn to Amen-Ka, which exists upon a hieratic papyrus,
judged to be of the fourteenth century, B.C., and purporting to be only
a copy of an earlier writing. I quote four lines, and call attention to
the fourth:--
O! Ra adored in Aptu [Thebes]:
High-crowned in the house of the obelisk [Heliopolis]:
King (Ani) Lord of the New-moon festival:
To whom the sixth and seventh days are sacred.*
When we leave Egypt for Assyria, we pass from indication to proof. At p.
12 of George Smith's _Assyrian Discoveries_,** the author says--"In the
year 1869 I discovered, among other things, a curious religious calendar
of the Assyrians, in which every month is divided into four weeks, and
the seventh days, or 'Sabbaths' are marked out as days on which no work
should be undertaken." More precise information as to these Sabbath-days
is given by Rev. A. H Sayce, M.A., in _Records of the Past_, vol. I., p.
164, where the following words occur:--"The Babylonian year was divided
into twelve months of thirty days each, with an intercalary month every
six years.... According to the lunar division, the seventh, fourteenth,
nineteenth, twenty-first, and twenty-eighth days were days of 'rest' on
which certain works were forbidden."
* Translated by C. W. Goodwin, M.A., in Records of the Past,
vol. II Bagster & Sons.
** Sampson Low, & Co., 1875.
The Assyrian legends tell of seven evil spirits who rebelled against
the gods; of the goddess Ishtar descending to Hades, and passing through
seven gates; of a deluge, the duration of which was seven days, &c., &c.
Mr H. F. Talbot, F.R.S., speaks of the great degree of holiness which
the Assyrians attributed to the number seven, and where that number was
sacred, the seventh day could scarcely escape special honours. _Why_ the
number seven was sacred, or whether the Babylonian Sabbath was at first
any more than an unlucky day, like the sailor's Friday, when it was
sowing for the whirlwind to begin any enterprise, are other questions.
I am, yours faithfully,
GEORGE ST. CLAIR.
These observations of Mr St Clair deserve attention, for they show that,
from an ancient period, a sixth and seventh day were holy in Egypt,
although we cannot discover from the context whether they were reckoned
after the first day of a year, a month, or a week. But this is of
small importance, as I do not find evidence that the Jews borrowed any
Egyptian ideas, even if they ever knew any. It is far more important to
know, that in the Assyrian calendar the seventh, fourteenth, nineteenth,
twenty-first, and twenty-eighth days of the month were days of "rest,"
for all Biblical testimony points to the adoption of the Jewish Sabbath
in the time of the second Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel--i.e., not very
long after the Assyrians made their power felt in Palestine. When we
consider the propensity which the Hebrews had to copy parts of the
religion of those who conquered them, it is highly probable that some
astute priest of the Jews adopted the idea of consecrating a seventh
day, as their Mesopotamian adversaries had done, to the most high
god Saturn; and as it was desirable to have some pretence for the
introduction of the Sabbath, it was natural that it should be put under
the same head as the new moon, and that stories should be invented, and
gradually circulated, of the vast antiquity of the new institution. It
is clear, from the Jewish history, that the Sabbath was not generally
known amongst the common people until long after the return from
Babylon. Had it been so, Ezra would not have thundered so energetically
in its favour. The same remark applies to Nehemiah. I have elsewhere
remarked that the Sabbath was unknown to David and Solomon, and may now
add that any one who will read the episode in the history of Elijah,
recorded 1 Kings xix. 7, 8, will see that this prophet could have known
nothing, and the angel who spoke to him could have known no more, of the
Mosaic Sabbath, inasmuch as the latter directs, and the former obeys,
an order which must have involved a breaking of the "rest" of at least
five, and possibly six, Sabbaths. The whole life, indeed, of Elijah
shows a perfect ignorance of this so-called Mosaic institution.
End of Project Gutenberg's Ancient Faiths And Modern, by Thomas Inman