CHAPTER X.

FREETHOUGHT.

A.—LESSONS OF INSTINCT.

The Brahmans have a legend that the first children of man ascended

Mount Gunganoor, to visit the castle of Indra and inquire into the

secret of their origin. Speculations on the source of life, on the

mystery of creation, the cause of good and evil, and similar problems

which we might sum up under the name of religious inquiries, seem,

indeed, to have occupied the attention of our ancestors at a very early

period. An irrepressible instinct appears to prompt the free discussion

of such questions, and in a normal state of social relations the

attempt to suppress that instinct would have appeared as preposterous

as the attempt to enforce silence upon the inquirers into the problems

of health or astronomy. A thousand years before the birth of Buddha,

the Sakyas, or ethic philosophers, of northern Hindostan visited the

mountain-passes of Himalaya to converse with travelers and seek

information on the religious customs and traditions of foreign nations.

The book of Job, probably the oldest literary product of the Semitic

nations, records a series of free and often, indeed, absolutely

agnostic discussions of ethical and cosmological problems.

“Canst thou by searching find out God?” says Zophar. “It is as high as

heaven: what canst thou do? It is deeper than hell: what canst thou

know?”

“Is it good unto thee that thou shouldst oppress the work of thy own

hand?” Job asks his creator; “thine hands have made me; why dost thou

destroy me? Thou huntest me like a fierce lion. Wherefore, then, hast

thou brought me forth out of the womb? Oh, that I had given up the

ghost and no eye had seen me! I should have been as though I had not

been; I should have been carried from the womb to the grave. Are not my

days few? Cease, then, and let me alone, that I may take comfort a

little, before I go whence I shall not return, even to the land of

darkness and the shadow of death.”

And again: “Man dieth and wasteth away; man giveth up the ghost, and

where is he? As the waters fall from the sea and the flood dryeth up:

so man lieth down and riseth not; till the heavens be no more he shall

not awake nor be raised out of his sleep.”... “If a man die, shall he

live again?” “Wherefore is light given unto them that are in misery,

and life unto the bitter in soul? who long for death, but it cometh

not; who rejoice exceedingly and are glad when they can find the

grave?”

Or Elihu’s interpellation: “Look up to heaven and see the clouds which

are higher than thou: If thou sinnest, what doest thou against him? If

thou be righteous, what givest thou to him, or what can he receive of

thine hand?”

Could a committee of modern skeptics and philosophers discuss the

problems of existence with greater freedom?

For a series of centuries the monkish custodians of the literary

treasures of Greece and Rome expurgated the writings of the bolder

Freethinkers, and for the sake of its mere parchment destroyed more

than one work that would have been worth whole libraries of their own

lucubrations; yet even the scant relics of pagan literature furnish

abundant proofs of the ethical and metaphysical liberty which the

philosophers of the Mediterranean nations enjoyed for nearly a thousand

years. The marvelous development of Grecian civilization in art,

science, politics, literature, and general prosperity coincided with a

period of almost unlimited religious freedom. Speculations on the

origin of religious myths were propounded with an impunity which our

latter-day Freethinkers have still cause to envy. The possibility of

all definite knowledge of the attributes of the deity was boldly denied

two thousand years before the birth of Emmanuel Kant. The Freethinker

Diagoras traveled from city to city, propagating his system of

Agnosticism with a publicity which seems to imply a degree of tolerance

never yet re-attained in the progress of the most intellectual modern

nations. The skeptic Pyrrho ridiculed the absurdity of all our modern

Secularists would include under the name of other-worldliness. A Roman

actor was applauded with cheers and laughter for quoting a passage to

the effect that “if the gods exist, they seem to conduct their

administration on the principle of strict neutrality in the affairs of

mankind!”

Democritus, Euhemerus, Anaxagoras, Epicurus, Aristotle, Libanius,

Pliny, Lucretius, and the latter Pythagoreans, almost entirely ignored

the doctrines of Polytheism, which, indeed, never assumed an aggressive

form, the attempted suppression of the Christian dogmatists being an

only apparent exception, dictated by motives of political

apprehensions, rather than by religious zeal; for at the very time when

the followers of the life-hating Galilean were persecuted as “enemies

of mankind,” a large number of other oriental religions enjoyed

privileges bordering on license. The Grecian colonists of Asia Minor

never interfered with the religious customs of their new neighbors.

They studied and discussed them as they would study the curiosities of

other social phenomena; and a purely naturalistic system of education

would undoubtedly lead to analogous results. Intelligent children often

evince a remarkable tact in avoiding certain topics of conversation,

such as allusions to personal or national defects, scandals, the arcana

of sexual relations, private affairs, etc., and the experience of after

years may confirm such habits of discretion; but no conceivable motive

but deference to an arbitrary precept could dictate a similar reticence

in the discussion of purely metaphysical topics, or of dogmas which by

their very pretense to a mission of extreme importance should justify

an extreme frankness in debating the basis of their claims.

B.—REWARDS OF CONFORMITY.

Religious liberty guarantees every other kind of freedom, as every form

of slavery walks in the train of priestly despotism. In America

religious emancipation led the way to the Declaration of Independence,

and still continues to make this continent the chosen home of thousands

of Liberals whom the material prosperity of the New World would have

failed to attract. It is possible that a policy of intolerance would

have averted or postponed the fate of the Moorish empire, which was

ultimately overthrown by the fanatics of a creed which the followers of

a more rational faith had permitted to survive in their midst; yet it

is not less certain that for nearly five hundred years religious

tolerance made the realm of the Spanish caliphs the one bright Goshen

in a world of intellectual darkness. In northern Europe the history of

civilization begins only with the triumph of Rationalism.

Protestantism, in that wider sense which made the revolt of the

Germanic nations an insurrection against the powers of superstition,

has laid the foundation of national prosperity in Great Britain, in the

Netherlands, and in the rising empire of northern Germany. The real

founder of that empire was at once the greatest statesman and the

boldest Freethinker of the last fourteen centuries. His capital became

a city of refuge for the philosophers of Christian Europe. The eastern

provinces of his kingdom were colonized by refugees from the tyranny of

clerical autocrats. His absolute tolerance protected even the Jesuits,

expelled by the Catholic rulers of France and Spain. During the reign

of that crowned philosopher the religious and political dissenters of

Prussia expressed their views with a freedom which in semi-republican

England would have involved them in a maze of endless lawsuits. Among

the fruits of that freedom were products of science and philosophy

which have made that period the classic age of German literature.

“Before the appearance of Kant’s ‘Critique of Pure Reason,’” says

Schopenhauer, “the works of duly installed government professors of

philosophy were mostly medleys of sophisms, pretending to reconcile

science and dogma, or reason and despotism. Here, at last, a state

university could boast of a man who lived at once by and for the

service of Truth—a phenomenon made possible only by the circumstance

that, for the first time since the days of the great Aurelius and the

greater Julian, a Freethinker had mounted the throne of an independent

monarchy.”

The protection of Freethought is likewise the best safeguard against

that virus of hypocrisy that has undermined the moral health of so many

modern nations.

“What an incalculable advantage to a nation as well as to its ruler,”

says a modern philosopher, “to know that the pillars of state are

founded on the eternal verities, on natural science, logic, and

arithmetic, instead of casuistry and immaculate conceptions!”

The consciousness of that advantage has more than once upheld the

birthland of Protestantism in its struggles against the allied powers

of despotism, and should uphold our republic in the inevitable struggle

against the allied despots of the twentieth century.

C.—PERVERSION.

The experience of the last sixteen centuries has made priestcraft

almost a synonym of intolerance; and yet it would be a mistake to

suppose that the interests of Freethought are incompatible with the

survival of any system of supernatural religion. The myths of

polytheism were for ages accepted as the basis of a creed enjoying all

the prerogatives and emoluments of an established religion, but the

priests of that religion had no need of protecting their prestige by

the butchery of heretics. With all their absurdities, the rites of

their creed were essentially a worship of Nature, naturally attractive

to all lovers of earth and life, and by their harmlessness conciliating

the favor of philosophers who might have studied the baneful tendencies

of a different creed—a creed which could propagate its dogmas only by

an unremitting war against the natural instincts of the human race, and

by constant intrigues against the protests of human reason. “The

Nature-worshiping Greeks repeated the harmless myths and practiced the

merry rites of their creed for centuries without troubling themselves

about the myths and rites of their neighbors. Their superstition

differed from that of the church as the inspired love of Nature differs

from the ecstatic fury of her enemies, as the day-dream of a happy

child differs from the fever-dream of a gloomy fanatic. ‘Procul

Profani!’ was the cry of the Eleusinian priests. They had more

followers than they wanted. Their joy-loving creed could dispense with

autos-da-fé. The Hebrews, in stress of famine, conquered a little strip

of territory between Arabia and the Syrian desert, and then tried their

best to live in peace with heaven and earth, and their sects contented

themselves with metaphorical rib-roastings. The Saracens spread their

conquests from Spain to the Ganges, but their wars had a physical,

rather than metaphysical, purpose. They needed land, and made a better

use of it than the former occupants. They contented themselves with

assessing dissenters, and did not deem it necessary to assassinate

them. But the Galilean pessimists could not afford to tolerate an

unconverted neighbor. To the enemies of Nature the happiness of an

earth-loving, garden-planting, and science-promoting nation was an

intolerable offense: reason had to be sacrificed to faith, health and

happiness to the cross, and earth to heaven” (The Secret of the East,

p. 62).

And even in the modified form of Protestant Christianity, that creed

remains the rancorous enemy of Freethought. The doctrine of the

Galilean Buddhist is essentially a doctrine of pessimism, of

other-worldliness and Nature-hating renunciation of human reason and

earthly prosperity, and therefore wholly irreconcilable with the

promotion of progressive science and secular happiness. Philosophers

have for centuries assembled their scholars undisturbed by the songs

and dances of pagan festivals; the exponents of secular science have

enjoyed the good-will of health-loving Hebrews and Mohammedans, and

will find a modus vivendi with the Spiritualists and Theosophists of

the future; but Secularism, “the Science of Happiness on Earth,” can

never hope to conciliate the dogmatists of a creed that denies the

value of life itself, and wages war against Nature as well as against

the claims of natural science.

D.—PENALTIES OF NEGLECT.

Wherever Reason surrenders to Dogma, the exponents of that dogma will

claim unreasonable prerogatives. Irresponsible dogmatists have never

failed to pursue the interests of their creed at the expense of the

interests of mankind. The lessons of Science could not be reconciled

with the doctrines of Antinaturalism, and in the interest of that

doctrine the spiritual taskmasters of medieval Europe suppressed

Science by methods that have retarded the progress of mankind for

thirteen hundred years. The suppression of Freethought enabled the

enemies of Nature to complete their triumph by the suppression of

social and political liberty; and for ages the church has been the

faithful ally of Despotism. The priest-ridden rulers of the expiring

Roman empire and the priest-ridden rabble of the Roman provinces

assisted in the persecution of Freethought, and that crime against

reason was avenged by the development of a system of spiritual tyranny

which at last forced even princes to kiss the dust of Canossa and

degraded the lot of peasants beneath that of savages and wild beasts.

The war against natural science avenged itself in the neglect of

agriculture, and the enormous spread of deserts, which the priests of

the Galilean miracle-monger proposed to reclaim by prayer-meetings. The

surrender of Freethought to faith sealed the fate of millions of

heretics and “sorcerers,” who expiated an imaginary crime in the

agonies of the stake. Not the abrogation of civil rights, not the

intimidation of princes and commoners, but the eradication of

Freethought, enabled the priests of an unnatural creed to enforce their

hideous superstitions upon the prisoners of the numberless monasteries

which for a series of centuries combined all the conditions for the

systematic suppression of moral, intellectual, and personal freedom.

“I am not come to bring peace but the sword,” said the ingenuous

founder of a creed which could not fail to produce an irrepressible

conflict between the delusions of its doctrines and the inspirations of

nature and science—and, of course, also between the would-be followers

of its own preposterous precepts—and neither the lust of conquest nor

the jealousy of rival nations has ever stained this earth with the

torrents of blood shed by the bigots of that creed after its triumph

over the protests of Freethought. The fatuous attempt to crush out

dissent by substituting a roll of parchment for the book of Nature

avenged itself by murderous wars about the interpretation of those same

parchments. The dogmatists who had tried to perpetuate their power by

the murder of modest rationalists, were assailed by hordes of their own

irrationalists, raging about the ceremonial details of the wafer-rite

and the immersion rite. The bigots who had refused to heed the

pleadings of Bruno and Campanella were forced to acknowledge the

battle-axe logic of the Hussites.

E.—REFORM.

Truth that prevails against error also prevails against half truths,

and the recognition of just claims cannot be furthered by unjust

concessions. Uncompromising right is mightiest, and Freethinkers would

have served their cause more effectually if they had contended, not for

the favor to enjoy a privilege, but the right to fulfil a duty. The

ministry of reason imposes obligations to posterity, and to the memory

of its bygone martyrs, as well as to our help-needing contemporaries;

and the defense of its rights is a truer religion than submission to

the yoke of a mind-enslaving dogma. The Rishis, or sainted hermits of

Brahmanism, used to devote themselves to the service of a forest

temple, and guard its sanctuary against vermin and reptiles; and the

believers in a personal God cannot devote their lives to a nobler task

than by guarding his temples against the serpent of priestly despotism.

The disciples of Secularism should learn to value the right of

Freethought as the palladium of their faith, as the basis of all other

blessings—moral and material, as well as intellectual. They should

learn to revere the memory of the martyrs of their faith, and recognize

the importance of their services to the cause of modern civilization

and its sacred principles; but they should also learn to recognize the

magnitude of the remaining task. It is no trifle that the prevalent

system of ethics and the temporal and eternal hopes of millions of our

brethren are still based on a lie. It is no trifle that the health and

happiness of millions of our fellow-men are still sacrificed on the

altar of that untruth by the suppression of public recreations on the

only day when a large plurality of our working-men find their only

chance of leisure. It is no trifle that honest men are still branded as

“Infidels,” “renegades,” and “scoffers,” for refusing to kneel in the

temple of a nature-hating fanatic. The struggle against the spirits of

darkness is by no means yet decided in Italy, where the arch-hierarch

is spinning restless intrigues to regain the power which for ages made

Europe a Gehenna of misery and despotism. Nor in Spain, where a swarm

of clerical vampires is still sucking the life-blood of an impoverished

nation. Nor in Austria and southern Germany, where the alliance of

church and state remains a constant menace to the scant liberties of

the people.

Freethinkers need not underrate the influence of individual efforts to

recognize the superior advantage of organized coöperation, so urgently

needed for the reform of Sabbath laws, of press laws, and the

educational system of the numerous colleges still intrusted to the

control of the Jesuitical enemies of science. The strength-in-union

principle should encourage the oft-debated projects for the

establishment of Freethought colleges (as well as Freethought

communities); but still more decisive results could be hoped from that

union of the powers of knowledge and of moral courage which has never

yet failed to insure the triumph of social reforms. We should cease to

plead for favors where we can claim an indisputable right. We should

cease to admit the right of mental prostitutes to enforce the penalties

of social ostracism against the champions of science; but we, in our

turn, should deserve the prestige of that championship by scorning the

expedients of the moral cowardice which strains at gnats and connives

at beams, attacking superstition in the harmless absurdities of its

ceremonial institutions, and sparing the ruinous dogmas that have

drenched the face of earth with the blood of her noblest children, and

turned vast areas of garden-lands into hopeless deserts. The skeptics

who scoff at the inconsistencies of a poor clergyman who tries in vain

to reconcile the instincts of his better nature with the demands of an

anti-natural creed, should themselves be consistent enough to repudiate

the worship of the fatal founder of that creed, and not let the hoary

age of the Galilean doctrine palliate the tendencies of its

life-blighting delusions.

III.—MORAL MAXIMS.

The Bible of nature · 第 10 / 20 章