admit, all book-revelation is impossible.--But further, supposing
men to have made this strange blunder, it only shows that the 'moral
and spiritual' could not be very clearly revealed within; and no
wonder men began to think that perhaps it might come to them
from without! When men begin to mistake blue for red, and square for
round, and chaff for wheat, I think it is high time that they repair
to a doctor outside them to tell them what is the matter with their
poor brains. Meantime an external revelation is impossible?"
"Certainly."
"But men, however, have somehow perversely believed it very possible,
and that, in some shape or other, it has been given?"
"They have, I must admit."
"Unhappy race! thus led on by some fatality, though not by the
constitution of their nature (rather by some inevitable perversion
of it), to believe as possible that which is so plainly impossible.
O that it did not involve a contradiction to wish that God would
relieve them from such universal and pernicious delusions, by giving
them a book-revelation to show them that all book-revelations are
impossible!"
"That," said Fellowes, laughing, "would indeed be a novelty. Miracles
would hardly prove that."
"I think not," said Harrington. "But, as the poet says, 'some god or
friendly man' may show the way. Pray, permit me to ask, did you
always believe that a book-revelation was impossible?"
"How can you ask the question?--you know that I was brought up, like
yourself, in the reception of the Bible as the only and infallible
revelation of God to mankind."
"To what do you owe your emancipation from this grievous and universal
error, which still infects, in this or some other shape, the myriads
of the human race?"
"I think principally to the work of Mr. Newman on the 'Soul,' and his
'Phases of Faith.'"
"These have been to you, then, at least, a book-revelation that a
'divine book-revelation is impossible'; a truth which I acknowledge
you could not have received by divine book-revelation, without a
contradiction. You ought, indeed, to think very highly of Mr. Newman.
It is well, when God cannot do a this that man can; though I confess,
considering the wide prevalence of this pernicious error, it would
have been better, had it been possible, that man should have had a
divine book-revelation to tell him that a divine book-revelation
was impossible. Great as is my admiration of Mr. Newman, I should,
myself, have preferred having God's word for it. However, let us lay
it down as an axiom that a human book-revelation, showing you that
'a divine book-revelation is impossible,' is not impossible; and
really, considering the almost universal error of man on this
subject,--now happily exploded,--the book-revelation which convinces
man of this great truth ought to be reverenced as of the highest value;
it is such that it might not appear unworthy of celestial origin, if
it did not imply a contradiction that God should reveal to us in a
book that a revelation in a book is impossible."
Fellowes looked very grave, but said nothing.
"But yet," continued Harrington, very seriously, "I know not whether
I ought not, upon your principles, to consider this book-revelation
with which you have been favored, about the impossibility of such
a thing, as itself a divine revelation; in which case I am afraid
we shall be constrained to admit, in form, that contradiction which
we have been so anxious to avoid, by making 'possible with man what
is impossible with God.'"
"I know not what you mean," said Fellowes, rather offended.
"Why," said Harrington, quite unmoved, "I have heard you say you do
not deny, in some sense, inspiration, but only that inspiration is
preternatural; that every 'holy thought,' every 'lofty and sublime
conception,' all 'truth and excellence,' in any man, come from the
'Father of lights,' and are to be ascribed to him; that, as Mr. Parker
and Mr. Foxton affirm on this point, the inspiration of Paul or Milton,
or even of Christ and of Benjamin Franklin, is of the same nature,
and in an intelligible sense from the same source,--differing only
in degree. Can you deem less, then, of that great conception by which
Mr. Newman has released you, and possibly many more, from that
bondage to a 'book-revelation' in which you were brought up, and
in which, by your own confession, you might have been still enthralled?
Can you think less of this than that it is an 'inspired' voice which
has proclaimed 'liberty to the captive,' and made known to you
'spiritual freedom'? If any thing be divine about Mr. Newman's
system, surely it must be this. Ought you not to thank God that he
has been thus pleased to 'open your eyes,' and to turn you from
'darkness to light,'--to raise up in these last days such an apostle
of the truth which had lain so long 'hidden from ages and generations'?
Can you do less than admire the divine artifice by when it was
impossible for God directly to tell man that he could directly tell
him nothing, He raised up his servant Newman to perform the office?"
"For my part," said Fellowes, "I am not ashamed to say, that I think
I ought to thank God for such a boon as Mr. Newman has, in this
instance at least, been the instrument of conveying to me: I
acknowledge it most momentous truth, without which I should still
have been in thraldom to the 'letter.'"
"Very well; then the book-revelation of Mr. Newman is, as I say, in
some sort to you, perhaps to a divine 'book-revelation.'"
"Well, in some sense, it is so."
"So that now we have, in some sense, a divine book-revelation to
prove that a divine book-revelation is impossible."
"You are pleased to jest on the subject," said Fellowes.
"I never was more serious in my life. However, I will not press
this point any further. You shall be permitted to say (what I
will not contradict) that, though Mr. Newman may be inspired, for
aught I know, in that modified sense in which you believe in any
phenomenon,--inspired as much (say) as the inventor of Lucifer
matches,--yet that his book is not divine,--that it is purely human;
and even, if you please, that God has had nothing to do with it. But
even then I must be allowed to repeat, that at least you have
derived from a 'book-revelation' what it would not have been a
unworthy of a divine book-revelation to impart, if it could have
been imparted without contradiction. Such book-revelation, in this
case, must be of inestimable value to man, because, without it, he
must have persisted in that ancient and all but inveterate and
universal delusion of which we have so often spoken. There is only
one little inconvenience, I apprehend, from it in relation to
the argument of such a book; and that is, that I am afraid that
men, so far from being convinced thereby that a divine revelation
is impossible, will rather argue the contrary way, and say, 'If Mr.
Newman can do so much, what might not God do by the very same
method?' If he can thus break the spiritual yoke of his fellow-men
by only teaching them negative truth, surely it may be possible for
God to be as useful in teaching positive truth. I almost tremble,
I assure you, lest, by his most conspicuous success in imparting
to you such important truth, and reclaiming you from such a
fundamental error, which lay at the very threshold of your
'spiritual' progress, he may, so far from convincing mankind of the
truth of his principle, lead them rather to believe that a
'book-revelation' may have been very possible, and of singular
advantage. But, to speak the truth, I am by no means sure that
Mr. Newman has not done something more than what we have attributed
to him, and whether his book-revelation be not a true divine
revelation to you also."
Fellowes looked rather curious, and I thought a little angry.
"My good friend," said Harrington, "I am sure you will not refuse
me every satisfaction you can, in my present state of doubt and
perplexity; that you will render me (as indeed you have promised)
all the assistance in your power, by kindly telling me what you
know of your own religious development and history. I cannot
sufficiently admire your candor and frankness hitherto."
"You may depend upon it," said Fellowes, "I will not hesitate to
answer any questions you choose to put. I am not ashamed of the system
I have adopted,--or rather selected, for I do not agree with any one
writer--although I confess I wish I were a better advocate of it."
"O, rest assured that 'spiritualism' can lose nothing by your
advocacy. As to your independence of mind, you act, I am sure, upon
the maxim in verba nullius jurare. Your system seems to me quite a
spices of eclecticism. There is no fear of my confounding you with
the good old lady who, after having heard the sermon of some
favorite divine, was asked if she understood him. 'Understand him!'
said she; 'do you think I would presume?--blessed man! Nor with
the Scotchwoman who required, as a condition of her admiration, that
a sermon should contain some things at least which transcended her
comprehension. 'Eh. it is a' vara weel,' said she, on hearing one
which did not fulfil this reasonable condition; 'but do ye call that
fine preaching?--there was na ae word that I could na explain mysel.'"
Fellowes smiled good-naturedly, and then said, "I was going to
observe, in relation to the present subject, that it is 'moral and
spiritual' truth which Mr. Newman says it is impossible should be the
subject of a book-revelation."
Harrington, apparently without listening to him, suddenly said, "By
the by, you agree with Mr. Newman, I am sure, that God is to be
approached by the individual soul without any of the nonsense of
mediation, which has found so general--all but universal--sanction
in the religious systems of the world?"
"Certainly," said Fellowes, "nor is there probably any 'spiritualist'
(in whatever we may be divided) who would deny that."
"Supposing it true, does it not seem to you the must delightful and
stupendous of all spiritual truths?"
"It does, indeed," said Fellowes.
"Could you always realize it, my friend?" said Harrington.
"Nay, I was once a firm believer in the current orthodoxy, as you
well know."
"Now you see with very different eyes. You can say, with the man in
the Gospel, 'This I know, that, whereas I was blind, now I see."
"I can."
"And you attribute this happy change of sentiment to the perusal of
those writings of Mr. Newman from which you think that I also might
derive similar benefits?"
"I do."
"It appears, then, that to you, at least, my friend, it is possible
that there may be a book-revelation of 'moral and spiritual truth'
of the highest possible significance and value, although you do not
consider the book to be divine; now, if so, I fancy many will be
again inclined to say, that what Mr. Newman has done in your case,
God might easily do, if he pleased, for mankind in general; and with
this advantage, that He would not include in the same book which
revealed truth to the mind, and rectified its errors, an assurance
that any such book-revelation was impossible."
"But, my ingenious friend." cried Fellowes, with some warmth, "you are
inferring a little too fast for the premises. I do not admit that
Mr. Newman or any other spiritualist has revealed to me any truth,
but only that he has been the instrument of giving shape and distinct
consciousness to what was, in fact, uttered in the secret oracles of
my own bosom before; and, as I believe, is uttered also in the hearts
of all other men."
"I fear your distinction is practically without a difference. It will
certainly not avail us. You say you were once in no distinct conscious
possession of that system of spiritual truth which you now hold; on
the contrary, that you believed a very different system; that the
change by which you were brought into your present condition of mind
--out of darkness into light--out of error into truth--has been produced
chiefly by Mr. Newman's deeply instructive volumes. If so, one will be
apt to argue that a book-revelation may be of the very utmost use and
benefit to mankind in general,--if only by making that which would else
be inarticulate mutter of the internal oracle distinct and clear; and
that if God would but give such a book, the same value at least might
attach to it as to a book of Mr. Newman's. It little matters to this
argument, the question of the possibility, value, or utility of an
external revelation,--whether the truths it is to communicate be
absolutely unknown till it reveals them only not known, which you
confess was your own case. If your natural taper of illumination is
stuck into a dark lantern, and its light only can flash upon the
soul when some Mr. Newman kindly lifts up the slide for you; or if
your internal oracle, like a ghost, will not speak till it is spoken
to; or, like a dumb demon, awaits to find a voice, and confess
itself to be what it is at the summons of an exorcist;--the same
argument precisely will apply for the possibility and utility of a
revelation from God to men in general. What has been done for you by
man, even though no more were done, might, one would imagine, be done
for the rest of mankind, and in a much better manner, by God. If that
internal and native revelation which both you and Mr. Newman say has
its seat in the human soul, be clear without his aid, why did he
write a syllable about it? If, as you say, its utterances were not
recognized, and that his statements have first made them familiar to
you, the same argument (the Christian will say) will do for the Bible.
It is of little use that nature teaches you, if Mr. Newman is to
teach nature."
Fellowes was silent; and, after a pause, Harrington resumed; he could
not resist the temptation of saying, with playful malice,--
"Perhaps you are in doubt whether to say that the internal
revelation which you possess does teach you dearly or darkly. It
is a pity that nature so teaches as to leave you in doubt till
some one else teaches you what she does teach you. She must be like
some ladies, who keep school indeed, but have accomplished
masters to teach every thing. Shall we call Mr. Newman the
Professor of 'Spiritual Insight'? Would it not be advisable, if
you are in any uncertainty, to write to him to ask whether the
internal truths which no external revelation can impart be
articulate or not; or whether, though a book from God could not
make them plainer, you are at liberty to say that a book of Mr.
Newman's will? It is undoubtedly a subtile question for him to
decide for you; namely, what is the condition of your own
consciousness? But I really see no help for it, after what you have
granted; nor, without his aid, do I see whether you can truly affirm
that you have an internal revelation, independently of him or not.
And whichever way he decides, I am afraid lest he should prove both
himself and you very much in the wrong. If he decides for you, that
your internal revelation must and did anticipate any thing he might
write, and that it was perfectly articulate, as well as inarticulately
present to your 'insight' before, it will be difficult to determine
why he should have written at all; he would also prove, not only how
superfluous is your gratitude, but that he understands your own
consciousness better than you do. If he decides it the other way, and
says you had a 'revelation' before he revealed it, yet that he made
it utter articulate language, and interpreted its hieroglyphics,--
then it more seems very strange that either you or he should contend
that a 'book-revelation' is impossible, since Mr. Newman has produced
it. If, however, he should in the first of these two ways, I fear,
my good friend, that we shall fall into another paradox worse than
all for it will prove that the 'internal revelation' which you
possess is better known to Mr. Newman than to yourself, which will
be a perfectly worthy conclusion of all this embarrass. It would be
surely droll for you to affirm that you possess an internal revelation
which renders all 'external revelation' impossible, but yet that its
distinctness is unperceived by yourself, and awaits the assurance
of an external authority, which at same time declares all 'external
revelation' impossible!"
"There is still another word," said Fellowes, "which you forget
that Mr. Newman employs; he says that an authoritative book-revelation
of moral and spiritual truth is impossible."
"Why" said Harrington, laughing, "while you were without the truth,
as you say you were, it was not likely to be authoritative: if,
when you have it, it is recognized as authoritative, which you say
is the case with the truth you have got from Mr. Newman,--if
you acknowledge that it ought to have authority as soon as known,
--that is all (so far as I know) that is contended for in the case
of the Bible. If you mean by 'authoritative' a revelation which not
only ought to be, but which is so, I think mankind make it pretty
plain that neither the 'external' nor the 'internal' revelation is
particularly authoritative. In short," he concluded "I do not see
how we can doubt, on the principles on which Mr. Newman acts and yet
denies, that a book-revelation of moral and spiritual truth is very
possible; and if given, would be signally useful to mankind in general.
If Mr. Newman, as you admit, has written a book which has put you in
possession of moral and spiritual truth, surely it may be modestly
contended that God might dictate a better. Either you were in
possession of the truths in question before he announced them, or you
were not; if not, Mr. Newman is your infinite benefactor, and God may
be at least as great a one; if you were, then Mr. Newman, like Job's
comforters, 'has plentifully declared the thing as it is.' If you say,
that you were in possession of them, but only by implication; that
you did not see them dearly or vividly till they were propounded,
--that is, that you saw them, only practically you were blind, and
knew them, only you were virtually ignorant; still, whatever Mr.
Newman does (and it amounts, in fact, to revelation), that may the
Bible also do. If even that be not possible, and man naturally
possesses these truths explicitly, as well as implicitly, then,
indeed, the Bible is an impertinence,--and so is Mr. Newman."
After a pause, Harrington suddenly asked,--
"Do you not think there is some difference between yourself and
a Hottentot?"
"I should hope so," said Fellowes, with a laugh.
"But still the Hottentot has all the 'spiritual faculties' of which
you speak so much?"
"Certainly."
"What makes this prodigious difference?--for of that, as a fact,
we cannot dispute."
"Different culture and education, I suppose."
"This culture and education is a thing external?"
"It is."
"This culture and education, however, must be of immense importance
indeed, since it makes all the difference between the having or the
not having, practically, any just religious notions, or sentiments,
or practices, (even in your estimation,) whatever our eternal
revelation."
"But still I hold, with Mr. Parker, that the 'absolute religion' is the
same in all men. The difference is in circumstantials only, as
Mr. Parker says."
"Then it serves his turn," said Harrington; "and he says the contrary,
when it serves his turn; then the depraved forms of religion are
hideous enough: when he wishes to commend his 'absolute religion,'
they differ in circumstantials. Circumstantials! I have hardly
patience to hear these degrading apologies for all that is most
degrading in humanity. If the 'absolute religion,' as he vaguely
calls it, be present in these of gross ignorance and unspeakable
pollution, it is so incrusted and buried that it is indiscernible
and worthless. Rightly, therefore, have you expressed a hope that
there is a 'prodigious difference' between you a Hottentot. You adhere
to that, I presume."
"Of course I shall," said Fellowes.
"Well, let us see. Would you think, if you were turned into a Hottentot
to-morrow, you had a religion worthy of the name, or not?"
"I am afraid I should not."
"You hope it, you mean. Well, then, it appears that culture and
education do somehow make all difference between a man's having a
religion worthy of the name, and the contrary?"
"I must admit it, for I cannot deny it in point of fact."
"And you also admit that, in nine hundred and ninety-nine cases out
of a thousand, or in a much larger proportion, taking all the nations
of the world since time began, the said culture and education have
been wanting, or ineffably bad?"
"Yes."
"So that there have been very few, in point of fact, who have attained
that 'spiritual' religion for which you and our spiritualists contend;
and those few chiefly, as Mr. Newman admits, amongst Jews and
Christians, though they too have had their most grievous errors, which
have deplorably obscured it?"
"Yes"
"It appears, then, I think, that if we allow that the internal
revelation without a most happy external culture and development
will not form any religion at all worthy of the name, and that that
happy culture and development (from whatsoever cause) are not the
condition of our race,--it appears, I say, rather odd to affirm that
any divine aid in this absolutely necessary external education of
humanity is not only superfluous, but impossible."
Another pause ensued, when Harrington again said, "You will think
me very pertinacious, perhaps, but I must say that, in my judgment,
Mr. Newman's theory of progressive religion (for he also admits a
doctrine of progress) favors the same sceptical doubts as to the
impossibility of a book-revelation. You do not deny, I suppose, that
he does think the world needs enlightening?"
"Had he not believed that, he would not have written.'
"I suppose not. However, how the world should need it, if your
principles be true, and every man brings into the world his own
particular lantern,--'Enter Moonshine,'--I do not quite understand;
or, if it is in need of such illumination not withstanding, why it
should not be possible for an external revelation to supply it
still better than your illuminati, I am equally unable to understand.
But let that pass. Mr. Newman concludes that the world does stand
in need of this illumination, and that it has had it at various
times. In is his opinion, is it not, that men began by being
polytheists and idolaters?"
"It is so; and surely all history bears out the theory."
"Many doubt it. I will not venture to give any opinion, except that
there are inexplicable difficulties, as usual, on both sides. Just now
I am quite willing to take his statement for granted, and suppose
that man in the infancy of his race was, in spite of the aid of his
very peculiar illumination,--which seems to have 'rayed out darkness,'
--as very a Troglodyte in civilization and religion as you (for the
special glory of his Creator, I suppose, and the honor of your
species) can wish him to have been. Well, man began by being a
polytheist, and very gradually emerged out of that pleasant condition
--or rather an infinitesimal portion of the race has emerged out of
it, into the better forms of idolatry--(poor wretch!), and from
thence to monotheism; that, in short, his polytheism is not the
corruption of his monotheism, but his monotheism an elevation of his
polytheism. Yet it is, after all, a cheerless 'progress,' which often
'advances backward.' Mr. Newman says that 'the law of God's moral
universe, as known to us, is that of progress; that we trace it from
old barbarism to the methodized Egyptian idolatry, to the more flexible
polytheism of Syria and Greece,' and so forth; and so in Palestine,
from the 'image-worship in Jacob's family to the rise of spiritual
sentiment under David, and Hezekiah's prophets.' (Phases, p. 223)
Yet he also tells us, 'Ceremonialism more and more incrusted the
restored nation, and Jesus was needed to spur and stab the consciences
of his contemporaries, and recall them to more spiritual perceptions.'
Well, thus came Christ to 'stab and spur'; and faith, I think 'stab
and spur' were again needed by the end of the third century. Successive
reformers are needed to 'stab and spur' the thick hide of humanity,
without which it will not, it seems, go forward, but perversely go
backward; and even with this perpetual application of the goad of some
spiritual mohoul, man crawls on at an intolerably slow pace. However,
'stab' and 'spur' are needed which is all I am now intent upon."