is religious and moral influence controlling and directing physical force
to the good of the whole community. Emancipate physical force from the
salutary restraints and guidance by which its violence and turbulence are
checked, and its mighty energies beneficially directed and employed, and
the same results will ensue, as would occur, were that mighty engine,—the
proudest boast of modern science,—the steam-engine, deprived of the nice
adjustments and counterbalances which have rendered its formidable powers
of easy, safe, and useful application. The frightful destruction which
attends the explosion of a steam-engine, would be more than paralleled by
the sudden rending asunder of the bands of society, when physical force,
released from the government of religious and moral influence, bursts
forth with the full sweep of its tremendous powers. Abstract principles,
and philosophical theories, weigh not a feather with the great bulk of
mankind, who are far more under the direction of their passions than
their judgment. Suppose the case of one man rich,—and it may be,
possessing more than he appears to require,—surrounded by many who are
poor and needy. What prevents the many from plundering the one? not
abstract principles of natural justice, not a philosophical respect for
the rights of property, but regard for Divine and human laws: remove the
restraints of conscience, and the fear of punishment, and the many poor
will rush upon the rich few, like a pack of hungry wolves upon, scattered
and defenceless sheep.
This admits of easy proof: it is an undeniable axiom in morals, that vice
brings with it its own punishment; how then does it come to pass that it
abounds to such a fearful extent in society? It needs not any very
extensive acquaintance with life to return the answer, which appears to
be the true one,—that where there is not religious principle the truths
of morality are less powerful than the impulses of passion, and present
gratification is willingly purchased, even at the expense of much after
suffering. Suppose, then, both religion and morals discarded; and man
left, not merely to the unrestrained indulgence of his evil passions, but
those passions excited by intoxicating and maddening stimulants, what
then would be the consequences? The heart sickens whilst the mind
pictures to itself some of the frightful excesses, the horrible
enormities, of which one man may be capable under such circumstances.
Suppose, further, not one man only, but a large proportion of the
labouring population of a country exposed to the artful and wicked
devices of infidel and seditious demagogues, corrupting the principles,
by profane and blasphemous writings; exciting angry and vindictive
feelings by exaggerated or false tales of injustice and wrong; fostering
hatred and malignity towards the rich, by representing them as the
oppressors and robbers of the poor, by whose labour they live; and
stimulating their natural cupidity and sensuality by hopes of plunder, of
ease, and of enjoyment; what, then, would be the consequences? Let the
history of France return the answer, for it is written in characters of
blood, in her annals, when, through the influence of a party, at first
small, and apparently contemptible, she became revolutionised,
demoralised, unchristianised. Birth, rank, and wealth, were alone
sufficient to expose their possessors to democratic violence and fury;
when all laws, human and Divine, broken,—all institutions, civil and
religious, overturned, regicide and apostate France subverted the throne,
and trampled upon the cross; and the demons of disorder, spoliation, and
butchery, stalked through her land, deluged with the best blood of her
children.
The conclusion, then, at which the impartial and dispassionate enquirer
will arrive,—a conclusion which has received the terrible sanction of
experience,—is, that the most horrible consequences will result to
society when physical force is released from the salutary restraints of
religious and moral influence.
When unchristianised, man becomes a sort of demon: he riots in the
licentiousness of his assumed freedom from obligations Divine and human;
and if leagued in a diabolical conspiracy against religion, laws, and
property,—against all that is virtuous, noble, and praiseworthy,—he is
involved as he advances, deeper and deeper in danger and guilt; as the
crisis approaches, he is impelled forward in his headlong career, with a
rapidity which allows no time for reflection, with a force which defies
resistance, until at last he is swallowed up in the wide ruin of
universal tumult and disorder: like one who commits himself to the
guidance of a stream, ignorant or regardless of the distant cataract,
towards which it is flowing: borne along by its powerful current, he is,
at first, delighted with his swift and unchecked progress, but as he
proceeds, the rapidity and force of the stream fearfully increase, until
at last, drawn within the full influence of the fall, he is swept along
with tremendous violence towards the verge of precipitation, whence he
shoots into the boiling gulf below—a gulf which is no unfit emblem of
society, heaving, foaming, and roaring, under the domination of physical
force.
Let not, however, the useful and awful lesson which the French revolution
teaches be thus hastily dismissed: human nature is always the same, and
similar causes will produce similar results, however modified by
circumstances. A length of time was required in that country to sow the
seeds of infidelity, but as soon as they had taken deep root in the
public mind, their effects were apparent; their growth was as rapid as it
was luxuriant, and they bore such a deadly crop as fills the mind with
disgust and horror. Nor was the field of operation of the antichristian
conspiracy confined to France, the great object of which was, every where
to accomplish the defamation and discredit of the Christian religion,
where it could not effect its entire overthrow.
Let the portrait, therefore, be examined which Bishop Horsley has
supplied us with of those times, which must be still fresh in the
recollection of some; it is drawn with the power and effect of a master
in his art; would it were only interesting as a vivid sketch by a
contemporary, of dangers passed away! it speaks even now with a warning
voice to this country.
“The whole of Europe, with the exception of France only, and those
miserable countries which France has fraternized, is yet nominally
Christian: but for the last thirty years or more, we have seen in every
part of it but little correspondence between the lives of men and their
professions; a general indifference about the doctrines of Christianity;
a general neglect of its duties; no reverent observance of its rites.
The centre from which the mischief has spread is France. In that kingdom
the mystery of iniquity began to work somewhat earlier than the middle of
the century which is just passed away. Its machinations at first were
secret, unperceived, disguised. Its instruments were persons in no
conspicuous stations. But by the persevering zeal of an individual, who,
by an affectation of a depth of universal learning which he never
possessed—by audacity in the circulation of what he knew to be falsified
history—by a counterfeit zeal for toleration; but above all, by a certain
brilliancy of unprincipled wit, contrived to acquire a celebrity for his
name, and a deference to his opinions, far beyond the proportion of what
might be justly due either to his talents or attainments, though neither
the one nor the other were inconsiderable;—by the persevering zeal, I
say, of this miscreant, throughout a long, though an infirm and sickly
life of bold active impiety, a conspiracy was formed of all the wit, the
science, the philosophy, and the politics, not of France only, but of
many other countries, for the extirpation of the Christian name. The
art, the industry, the disguise, the deep-laid policy with which the
nefarious plot was carried on; the numbers of all ranks and descriptions
which were drawn in to take part in it—men of letters first, then
magistrates, nobles, ministers of state, sovereign princes: last of all,
the inferior ranks, merchants, attornies, bankers’ clerks, tradesmen,
mechanics, peasants; the eagerness with which, under the direction of
their chief, all these contributed their power, their influence, their
ingenuity, their industry, their labour, in their respective situations
and occupations in life, to the advancement of the one great object of
the confederacy, are facts that are indeed astonishing.” {134a}
“The success of this vast enterprise of impiety was beyond any thing that
could have been expected by any but the first projector, from the
littleness of its beginnings.” {134b} “The apostacy of the French
nation, and the subversion of the Gallican Church, however unexpected at
the time in Europe, was not a sudden event: it was not one of those
spontaneous revolutions in public opinion which are to be traced to no
definite beginning, to no certain cause: it was not the effect of any
real grievance of the people, proceeding as hath been falsely pretended,
from the rapacity and the ambition of their clergy: it was the
catastrophe and accomplishment of a premeditated plot—a plot conceived in
mere malice, carried on with steady, unrelenting malignity, for half a
century.” {134c}
Such is the account which one of the ablest writers England ever produced
has left behind him, of the origin and progress of a conspiracy against
Christianity, the effects of which he also witnessed in this country, but
by the blessing of God on the labours of himself and others, lived to see
happily counteracted. There is much, it is true, which does not
correspond with the aspect of the present times; with which, however, a
very superficial acquaintance will satisfy every enquiring mind that
there is also much which applies to them too well. It is not likely that
the operations of infidelity will be precisely the same at different
periods, though the object remains unaltered: still even in their plans
and machinery, there will often be found great resemblance. The infidel
scheme in France was commenced by men of letters; in this country at
present, its most open and fierce advocates are amongst the low and
half-educated classes: still we have seen that in the middle and higher
classes there is gaining ground not “a direct attack on the evidences of
Christianity or on the value of its doctrines;” but “the distinctive
character of modern unbelief is the attempt to supersede Christianity,
and to make men moral without its guiding and restraining influence.”
{135} There is here a much greater resemblance than might be at first
supposed, between the two plans of operation, now and at the close of the
last century. The attack was then made with the most masterly skill:
care was taken that the prejudices of education, as they were considered,
should at first be treated with tenderness; and the way gradually
prepared for the reception of opinions, which, if at once presented to
the uncorrupted mind, would have been rejected with horror. To use an
illustration in perfect accordance with their views, the light of impiety
was to be gradually let in upon an eye, which had long been clouded by
the cataract of superstition, lest it should prefer the darkness of error
to the full blaze of truth. We find, therefore, no premature development
of immoral and impious doctrines: superstition, bigotry, intolerance,
were strongly condemned; clerical abuses and exactions fiercely inveighed
against; but pure religion and morality were commended. “In this
country,” writes Horseley, “I believe they know very well that bold
undisguised atheism, proceeding directly and openly to its horrid
purpose, will never be successful. They must have recourse, therefore,
to cautious stratagem; they must pretend that their object is not to
demolish, but reform: and it was with a view of giving colour to this
pretence, that the impudent lie—for such I have proved it to be—has been
propagated in this country of their reverence for pure Christianity, and
for the Reformation.” But there was one invariable feature of all their
proceedings, never lost sight of, a rancorous and malignant hostility to
the established Church; and unwearied exertions “to alienate the minds of
the people from the established clergy, by representing them as sordid
worldlings, without any concern about the souls of men, indifferent to
the religion which they ought to teach, to which the laity are attached,
and destitute of the Spirit of God.” {137a} Here, then, we have a direct
parallel between those times and the present, in which, indeed, the
balance of evil is against us, for, “the Church of England,” observes a
living prelate, {137b} “never, perhaps, hitherto has had to contend with
so great a number of open and avowed enemies; who, in their reiterated
and persevering attacks, stop short of no misrepresentations, however
flagrant, which tend to hold it up to public scorn and indignation.”
After making every allowance, indeed, for the popular excitement, which
may be of only temporary duration; for the resentful feelings, which may
pass away with the occasion which has excited them; still there remains
sufficient to justify the worst apprehensions, and to demand the most
strenuous exertions at counteraction of the friends of order and
religion. It is not merely that there is a want of veneration, love and
value for the Church; but a rancorous hatred, spurred on by eager desire
of spoliation, is manifested, wherever infidel teachers have made
proselytes to their wicked creed. Respect, also, for constituted
authorities, is destroyed, by their inculcating the audacious falsehood,
that civil government has been framed, to enable the few to rule the
many. Value for the laws has been lessened, by their declaring, there is
one law for the rich, and another for the poor. And the bonds of
affection and kind offices, which united the pastor and the parishioner,
the landlord and the tenant, have been almost every where weakened, and
in some places broken, by more than the base insinuation, by the
assertion, that the forbearance and kindness shown, originate not in
friendly regard and Christian charity, but in the ignoble wish of buying
golden opinions,—in the pusillanimous desire of propitiating men roused
to a sense of their injuries,—of disarming of their angry passions men
panting for retaliation and revenge. Thus the force of the public and
social obligations of life has been impaired, and those kind ties and
sympathies, which bind man to man in their several relations, are
converted by the poison of infidel principles, into food for malignant
feelings, which inwardly rankle in the heart, and which outwardly evince
themselves by discontent, distrust, and dislike; and when the opportunity
presents itself, by violence, aggression, and outrage. The effects of
such a state of things, if not counteracted, cannot be contemplated,
without the most painful apprehension, for, as it has been powerfully
expressed, “fatal must be the consequences, if the monstrous fiends of
blasphemy and disorganization now going about seeking whom they may
devour, and stalking openly through the land, with menace and defiance,
be suffered to take undisturbed possession of our peasants and
artificers, or of those on whom they immediately depend for their
support.”
We have already seen the system of extensive combinations carried on in
defiance of the laws;—organized bands and tumultuous assemblages of
peasantry, extorting money, and enforcing their demands with threats of
violence;—wanton destruction of property, in the breaking of machinery,
in attacks upon private houses, and in the far more horrible crime of the
nocturnal incendiary;—violence and excesses in many towns;—and riot,
pillage, and arson, defying for some days, in a great city, municipal
authorities and military force.
Now when all these fearful evils are viewed in connection with the
general increase of crime, more particularly of juvenile delinquency;
with the abuse and profanation of the sabbath, and neglect of the public
ordinances of religion, and with the unsound views in faith and morals
which extensively prevail—the shades of the gloomy picture gradually
darken. But it is capable of receiving some further tints, and then the
moral state of the kingdom, which has been studiously kept as far as
possible distinct from the political, will stand forth, it is believed,
under such an appalling aspect as to satisfy men, of all parties, of the
necessity of prompt and vigorous exertion, of strong and efficient
remedies. Amongst the great body of the people have sprung up contempt
for antiquity, disregard for established usages, disrespect for rank,
love of innovation, clamorous discontent, and fierce desire of change,
which impel them forward with blind and presumptuous confidence in their
own wisdom, and with reckless indifference as to what may be the
consequences of their precipitation and rashness. The public press,
which exercises a fearful despotism—and political leaders, whose
authority is scarcely less absolute—urge forward an already over-excited
people, instead of attempting to allay the rising storm which threatens
to involve all in the common ruin of social order, public property, and
national credit.
The urgent importance of the question, What is to be done? cannot but
force itself upon the attention of the most supine—of the most
indifferent to their country’s safety and welfare; and surely only one
answer can be returned—repair any injuries which time may have caused to
the goodly edifice of the Church, or to the fair fabric of the
Constitution, striving, at the same time, by a general diffusion of true
religion, sound learning, and useful knowledge, to secure the eradication
of heretical and infidel opinions, and the reformation of public morals;
and by the blessing of God, the storm will pass away, and leave the
Church and Constitution unscathed. True Christian wisdom revolts from
any concession of principle, but not less so from any defence of error;
it yields not to popular clamour and threats in matters of duty, but it
thankfully receives the admonition given in the spirit of kindness, and
profits even by the warning of an enemy, to remove any slight blemishes,
which, affecting not the foundation of the Church built on a rock, appear
externally, and tempt the rash and rude hand of bold and unhallowed
reparation.
It is the height of political wisdom to know when to refuse, and when to
concede popular claims. To refuse just claims is equally wicked and
unwise; it is not only an act of injustice, as debarring the people from
their rights, but it destroys confidence and respect—it produces fierce
discontent, exasperation, and vindictiveness towards their rulers; and,
in the end, if the claimants be powerful, that is extorted as a right
which was first asked as a boon. To concede unfounded claims is equally
weak and unwise; it stimulates the eager and grasping spirit of demand,
it rarely conciliates for the time, but never satisfies; it causes that
unsettled expecting and excited state of the public mind so unfavourable
to national contentment, happiness, and prosperity; and if the system be
long continued—and every new concession, by weakening the strength of the
yielding party, will make it more difficult to change the system—security
after security, privilege after privilege having been surrendered, the
petitioners will become the framers of the laws—the claimants, the
dispensers of privileges—the governed, the governing power in the
kingdom. At the awful crisis at which we have arrived it is the bounden
duty of all men to forget party distinctions, to divest themselves of
party spirit, to have no object in view but the honour of God and the
general good. Let, therefore, the claims of the people be
dispassionately and impartially weighed; not, however, abstractedly, but
with relation to the general good; and let these claims be conceded so
far as they may be granted consistently with the rights of property, the
integrity of the constitution, the interests of religion, and the welfare
of the empire. And having made every concession which justice demands,
and which the real interests not only of the claimants, but of society at
large, sanction, let the whole energies of government and the nation be
directed to crushing the seditious and blasphemous associations which are
actively employed in exciting discontent and insubordination, and in
corrupting the principles of our agricultural and manufacturing
population; and let every means be employed to calm the agitation of the
public mind—to restore it to that peaceful, healthful, and contented
state, which once so much distinguished the people of England.
To effect, however, this great object, the co-operation of that mighty
engine of good or evil—the public press, is essential. When the
information, the talent, the eloquence, which are so conspicuous in many
of our leading journals are considered, we cease to wonder at the immense
influence they possess over the public mind; for partly through
indolence, partly through ignorance, a large proportion of men are
disposed to adopt, without examination, opinions which come recommended
by the authority of a name they have been accustomed to respect and
value. How beneficial, then, would be the consequences to society, if
the public press would use more moderation; if instead of swelling the
storm which is raging through the land, it would pour oil upon the
heaving and troubled waters; if, instead of advocating the interests of a
party, the public good was made of paramount importance. It is
melancholy to observe the pernicious influence of party spirit upon the
public press of this country: it is not only that it excites rancour and
bitterness of feeling, but even truth, viewed through the medium of its
jaundiced eye, appears like falsehood—beauty, like deformity—virtue, like
vice. Of this we have at present a too complete proof in the
misrepresentations, the misstatements, the calumnies, which have been
directed against the Established Church. The writers cannot be so
ignorant as not to know the charges are substantially false,—they cannot
be so dishonest as to give circulation to what they know to be untrue,
and therefore, as they publish the most false and calumnious allegations
against the Clergy, it can only be, that the mists of party distort
objects,—the prejudices of party misconstrue motives,—the spirit of party
perverts facts. Let it not be said that the liberty of the press has
degenerated into such licentiousness, that many public journals have
willingly and premeditatedly been guilty of the monstrous wickedness of
traducing and vilifying, and holding up to public scorn and reprobation,
the Clergy of the Established Church, but rather that, under the delirium
of a political fever, they have unconsciously loaded with unmerited
opprobrium, and most unjustly held up to public odium, the Clergy, who,
as a body, are distinguished for their talents, their learning, their
piety, and their zeal in their Great Master’s holy cause.