day,--theology being excluded. In the evening my companions were
again pleased to disturb my occupations; but it was only a short
skirmish. Fellowes was endeavoring to enlighten his friend
respecting the mysteries of "belief" and "faith," as expounded by
some of his favorite writers: he contended, (making that sheer
separation between "the intellectual" and "spiritual," which so
many of the spiritual school affect.) not only that there may be
correct belief without true faith, which, in an intelligible sense,
few will deny; but that there may be a true faith with a false belief',
or even with none, in the strict sense of the word. Referring to a
recent acute writer in one of our religious periodicals, he argued
that belief is properly an intellectual process, founded on a presumed
preponderance of reasons or supposed reasons, for it; and that whether
those reasons amount to demonstration, or whether the scale be
turned by a grain, matters not; the product is purely logical, and
has no more to do with "faith" than a "belief" in any proposition
of Euclid.
"But, at all events," he proceeded, "whether you choose to call some
of these acts of reason by the name of belief or not, faith is
something quite independent of it. As Mr. Newman says, in his 'Phases,'
'Belief is one thing and faith another': 'belief is purely intellectual;
faith is properly spiritual.' 'Nowhere from any body of priests,
clergy, or ministers, as an order, is religious progress to be
anticipated till intellectual creeds are destroyed.' See, too, how
tenderly he speaks even of atheism. 'I do not know,' he says, 'how to
avoid calling this a moral error; but I must carefully guard against
seeming to overlook that it may still be a merely speculative error,
which ought not to separate our hearts from any man.' Similarly he
charitably restricts 'idolatry' in any 'bad sense' to a voluntary
worshipping of what the worshipper feels not to deserve his adoration;
and as I, for one, doubt whether this is ever the case, this delightful
charity is comprehensive indeed. Mr. Parker's discourse is full of
the same beautiful and tolerant maxims. 'Each religious doctrine,' he
says, 'has some time stood for a truth ...... Each of these forms of
religion (polytheism and fetichism, to wit) did the world service
in its day.' No one form of religion is absolutely true; faith may
be compatible with them all."
"Let me understand you, if possible," said Harrington; "for at present
I fear I do not. That there may be belief without faith in a very
Intelligible sense, I can understand. You say there can be faith without
belief, and a true faith that is connected with any belief, however
erroneous, do you not?"
"Provided it contains the absolute religion."
"Well, and even the lowest fetichism does that, according to Mr. Parker,
whom you defend. Now this Protean faith is what I do not understand."
"That," said Fellowes, "I can easily conceive; and, let me add, no
sceptic can understand it."
"I see no reason why he should not," said Harrington, laughing, "if,
as you and Mr. Newman suppose, the 'spiritual' can be so perfectly
divorced from the 'intellectual.' According to your reasoning, the
and the idolater cannot be incapable of exercising this mysterious
'faith,'--when their errors are supposed purely speculative,--since
faith has nothing to do with the intellect; neither therefore ought
the sceptic to be quite beyond the pale of your charity. Nay, his
intellect being a rasa tabula in these matters, I should think he is
in more favorable circumstances than they can be. But, seriously, let
me try, if possible, to fathom this curious dogma,--I beg your
pardon,--sentiment, I mean. Belief without faith in an intelligible
sense (if by this last we mean a condition of the emotions or
affections), I can understand; though if the truth believed be of a
nature to excite to emotion and to dictate action, and fail to do so,
I doubt whether men in general would not call that belief spurious. For
example, if a man, on being told that his house was on fire, sat still
in his neighbor's chimney-corner, and took no notice of the matter,
most persons would say that his assent was no true belief; for it did
not produce its effects, did not produce faith. But whether faith can
ever exist independently of belief,--whether it is not always involved
with it,--and whether there can be a faith worth a farthing that is
not based on a true belief,--that is the point on which I want light.
If I understand you, an acceptable faith may or may not coexist
with a true belief; and men who believe in Jupiter or Jehovah, in one
God or a thousand, who worship the sun, or an idol, or a cat, or a
monkey, all may have an equally acceptable faith."
"I affirm it."
"That as there may be belief in a truth without faith, so there may
be faith, though the intellect believes in a falsehood;--that faith,
in fact, is independent of knowledge, or of any particular condition
of the intellect?"
"I do not like the terms in which you express the sentiment, but I,
for one, believe it substantially correct."
"Never mind the form; I am quite willing to employ other terms, if you
will supply them"
"Well, then," said Fellowes, "I should say, with Mr. Parker, that
the principle of true faith may be found to coexist with the grossest
and most hideous misconceptions of God, while the absence of it may
coexist with the truest and most elevated belief."
"That, I think, comes to much the same as I said. Now about the latter
we have no dispute. It is the former that I want light upon: the
latter only shows that a belief, which ought to be practical, and if
not practical is nothing, is but a species of hypocrisy; and, of
course, I have nothing to say for it. My uncle here, who is still one
of the orthodox, who believes that an 'acceptable faith' and a
belief in the divinity of a monkey or a cat are somehow quite
incompatible, would be among the first to acknowledge the latter
position. He would say, 'No doubt there has often been such a
thing as "dead orthodoxy,"--a creed of the "letter,"--a religion
exclusively dependent on logic, and nothing to do with the feeling's;
--belief that is not sublimated into faith;--a system of arteries and
veins infiltrated with some colored substance, like the specimens
in an anatomical museum, but in which none of the lifeblood of
religion circulates. But surely,' he would say, 'it does not follow,
that, because there has been belief without faith, there is or can
be any independent of some belief, or an acceptable faith without
a true belief.'"
"I affirm," said Fellowes, "that 'faith' has nothing to do with
the intellect, but is a state of the affections exclusively. I affirm,
with a recent acute writer, that there is, properly speaking, no
belief at all that is distinguishable from reason. For what is meant
by belief of a proposition, but the receiving that proposition
true upon evidence, from a supposed preponderance of reasons in
its favor? Now, whether that preponderance be a ton weight or a single
grain, down goes the balance, and reason as strictly decides that it
is to be received as if it were a mathematical demonstration. If the
arguments, whether abstract or otherwise, absolutely demonstrative or
only probable, are supposed to be exactly balanced, there is no reason
for deciding in favor of one side more than the other; and there is,
therefore, no belief, for the very reason that reason cannot
be exercised."
"Very well indeed," said Harrington, "so far as it goes; but I
forthwith see, that, so far from deriving any benefit from this
ingenious reasoning, there is no such thing as either faith or belief:
belief and faith have both vanished at the same time; the first is
resolved into reason, and the second becomes impossible."
"Belief may," said Fellowes, "but faith never. Its divine beauty is
all the brighter, when happily divorced from logic and syllogisms,
its misalliance with which can only be compared to that cruel punishment
by which the living was chained to the dead. Say what you will, it
still reigns and triumphs in the soul in spite of all."
"I am perfectly convinced," said Harrington, "that the modern
spiritualist will not bring his 'faith' into any ignominious slavery
to intellect or syllogism. But clear up my doubts if you can. I know
that the writers you are fond of quoting very generally give an
illustration of the nature of faith by pointing to the ingenuous
trust of a child in the wisdom and kindness of a parent."
"They do; and is it not a beautiful illustration? That is genuine
faith indeed!"
"I am willing to take the illustration. The child has faith, we see,
in his father's superior wisdom and experienced kindness."
"Yes."
"He believes them, therefore."
"Certainly."
"But belief is reason."
"Certainly; but faith is more than that."
"No doubt; but he does believe these things."
"Yes, certainly."
"And if he did not believe them, he would cease to have faith. If,
for instance, he be convinced that his father is mad, or cruel, or
unjust, the state of affections which you call faith will diminish,
and at last cease."
"Perhaps so," said Fellowes.
"Perhaps so, my friend! I really cannot receive your answer, because
I am convinced that it does not express your sentiments."
"Well, I believe that the state of affection which call 'faith' would
be impossible under such circumstances."
"But belief is reason."
"Yes."
"Must we not say, then, that the child's faith depends on the condition
of his belief, that is, on his reason, so that the 'faith' is possible
when he believes and so long as he believes, that his father is wise
and kind, but is impossible when he believes, and as soon as he believes,
the contrary?"
"Yes, I admit that."
"It appears, then, that faith in this,--perhaps the best illustration
that could be selected,--so far from being a state of the affections
exclusive of the intellect, is not exclusive of it, but absolutely
dependent on it, inasmuch as it is absolutely dependent on belief, and
that is dependent on reason. It exists in connection with it, and is
never independent of it. If the contrary be affirmed, I doubt whether
there can be any such thing as 'faith' in the world. Belief becomes
reason, and faith, having nothing, you say, to do with the intellect,
becomes impossible. But now let it be supposed (as, indeed, I cannot
but suppose) that some belief, that is, reason, enlightened or not
(generally the last), is involved in every act of faith; you yet affirm
most distinctly that it is a state of the affections quite unconnected
with the truth or falsehood of any intellectual propositions."
"I do."
"It ought to follow, then, that it matters not what is the object of
belief, provided there is 'faith'; and this, if you observe: is very
much what the language of Mr. Newman would imply, while it is the very
essence of Mr. Parker's teaching."
"You mean Father Newman, perhaps?"
"Why no, I did not; but, to tell you the truth. I now mean either;
there not appearing to me much difference between them in this respect.
Whether you worship an image of a 'winking virgin,' or, according to
the other Dromio, the 'ideal' of an idolater,--whether (provided
always it be with sincerity and trust!) you adore the Jehovah of
the Hebrews, or 'the image which fell down from Jupiter,' ought to
make, upon this theory, no great difference."
"Well, in whatever difficulty the controversy may involve us, can we
deny this conclusion?"
"Truly," replied Harrington, "I think it does not involve me in any
difficulty; it shows me that, if this be the 'faith' to which you
attach so much importance, it really is not worth the powder and shot
that must be expended in the controversy. For my own part, I do
not hesitate to say that I would rather be absolutely destitute of
'faith' altogether, than exercise the most absolute faith ever bestowed
upon a tawdry image of the Virgin, or some misshapen beast of an idol
of Hindoo or Hottentot workmanship."
"Ah! my friend," cried Fellowes, "do not thus blaspheme the most holy
feelings of humanity, however misapplied!"
"I do not conceive that I do, in declaring abhorrence and contempt of
such perversions of 'sentiment,' however 'holy' you may call them.
Hideous as they are, however, they are less hideous than the
half-length apologies for them on the part of cultivated and civilized
human beings, like our 'spiritual' infidels. Your tenderness is
ludicrously misplaced. I wonder whether the same apology would extend
to those exercises of simple-minded 'faith' in which it is said that
the Spanish and Portuguese pirates sometimes indulged, when they
implored the benediction of their saints on their predatory
expeditions! And yet I see not how it could be avoided; for the
exorbitancies of these pirates were not more hateful to humanity than
are the rites practices, and the duties enjoined, by many forms of
religion. What delightful, ingenuous 'faith' and genuine 'simplicity'
of mind did these pirates manifest!"
"How can you talk so, when we make it a mark of a false revelation,
that it contradicts any intuition of our moral nature?"
"Then cease to talk of your 'absolute religion,' as capable in any
way of consecrating the hateful forms of false and cruel superstition for
which you and Mr. Parker condescend to be the apologists. The
fanaticism of such pious and devout beasts as those saint-loving
pirates is not a more flagrant violation of the principle of morality,
than the acts which flow directly as the immediate and natural
expression of the infinitely varied but all-polluting forms of
idolatry with which you are pleased to identify your 'absolute
religion,' and in all of which you suppose an acceptable 'faith' to
be very possible. You see how Mr. Parker extends the apology to
the foulest sets of his Tartar and Calmuck scoundrels; acts
called murders in the codes of Christendom and civilization, but
varnished over by the beautiful 'faith' which somehow still lurks
under the most frightful practices of a simple-minded barbarian. If
this faith will shelter the abominations of a gross idolatry, I see
not what else it may not sanctify.--But, in fact, neither in the
case of idolaters, nor any other religionists, is it true that
'faith' is independent of 'belief'; in the case of your Calmuck, for
example, the 'belief' is vile, and therefore the 'faith' vile too;
faith practical enough, certainly, but one that as certainly does not
'work by love'; and which, I think, would be well exchanged for a
dead orthodoxy, or any thing else."
It is not difficult to see the source of the fallacy into which
Mr. Fellowes had fallen. It lies in the attempt to make a
distinction in fact, as well as in theory, between the
"intellectual" and "emotional" parts of our nature. It is very well
for the spiritual and mental analyst to consider separately the
several principles which constitute humanity, and which act, and
react, and interact, in endless involution. That there may be acts
of belief that terminate chiefly in the intellect, and may be wholly
worthless, who denies? The drunkard, for example, may admit that
sobriety is a duty; but yet, if he gets drunk every night of his
life, we shall, of course, think little of that act of belief,--of
his daily repetition of moral orthodoxy. In the same manner, a man
may admit that it is his duty to exercise implicit love, gratitude,
and obedience towards the great object of worship; but if his
habitual conduct shows that he has no thought of acting in accordance
with this maxim, he must be regarded, in spite of the orthodoxy of
his speculative creed, as no better than a heathen; or worse.
But though it is very possible that a true belief may not involve
true faith, does the converse follow,--that therefore true faith is
essentially different from it, and independent of it? All history
shows, that when religion is practical at all,--that is, issues in
faith,--such faith is as the truth or falsehood believed; the emotional
and active conditions of the soul are colored, as usual, by knowledge
and intellect. These, again, are not independent of the will and the
affections, as we all familiarly know. And hence the fallacy of
supposing that no man is to be thought better or worse for his
"intellectual creed." His "creed" may be his "crime"; and surely none
ought to see this more clearly than the writers who deny it; for
why their eternal invectives against "dogmas,"--and especially the
tolerably universal dogmas that men are responsible for the formation
of their opinions,--except upon the supposition that men are
responsible for framing and maintaining them? If they are not, men
should be left alone; if they are, they are to be thought of as
"worse and better" for their "intellectual creed."
Before the conclusion of the conversation, Mr. Fellowes asked me for
my opinion.
"If," said I, "faith be defined independent of an act of intellect,
then I think, with our sceptical friend here, there can be no such
thing at all. For I neither know nor can conceive of any such
unreasonable exercise of the emotions or affections. If it be meant,
on the other hand, that, though some act of the intellect be indeed
uniformly involved, yet that it matters not what it is, and that
faith does not take its complexion, as of moral value, from it, then
I also think, with Harrington, that it is impossible to deny that
such a doctrine will sanctify any sort of worship, and any sort of
deity, provided men be sincere; are you prepared to contend for much?"
Mr. Fellowes put an adroit objection here. "Why," said he, "you will
not deny, surely, that even Scripture often commends, as good, a faith
which is founded on a very imperfect conception of the spiritual
realities to which it is directed?"
"It is ingeniously put, I admit. I grant that there are here, as in
so many other cases, limits which, though it may not be very easy
to assign them, as plainly exist. But that does not answer my
question. I want to know whether the principle is to be applied
without limits at all, as your speculative theory demands? In other
words, will it or not sanctify acts of the most degrading and
pernicious idolatry, of the most debasing superstition, because
allied to that state of the affections in which you make the essence
of faith consist? If it will not, then your objection to me is
nothing; it merely asks me to assign limits within which the exercise
of the affection in question may be acceptable, or almost equally
acceptable, in cases of a partially enlightened understanding. If it
will, then it leaves you open, as I conceive, and fairly open, to all
the objections which have been so brusquely urged against you by your
friend, in whose indignant protest against the detestable apologies for
the lowest forms of religious degradation, in which so many 'spiritual'
writers indulge, I for one heartily sympathize."
I ventured to add, that the account of "faith" as a state of the
emotions exclusively, given by some of his favorite writers, is
perfectly arbitrary. "Belief," say they, "is wholly intellectual: faith
is wholly moral." Now it would be of very little consequence, if the
terms be generally so understood, whether they be so used or not; men
would, in that case, suppose that faith, thus restricted, implies a
previous process of mind which is to be called exclusively belief. I
added, however, that I did not believe that the word faith was ever
thus understood in popular use; but that, on the contrary, it was
employed to imply belief founded on knowledge, or supposed knowledge,
and, where the belief was, in its very nature, practical, or involved
emotion, a conduct and a state of the affections corresponding thereto.
"But this," said I, "merely respects the Popular use of the words, and
if is hardly worth while to prolong discussion on it. As to the
reasoning which would show that belief does not properly exist at
all, because it may be all resolved into reason, founded on the
preponderance of evidence, where it does not matter whether that
preponderance be a ton or a scruple,--surely it is over-refined. Men
will always feel that there is a marked difference between the states
of mind in which they assent to a proposition of which they have no
more doubt than they have of their own existence, or to a proposition
in the mathematics, and to one in which they feel that only a few
grains turn the scale. To this conscious difference in the condition
of mind, they have given (and I suppose will not give) very different
names; and though they will continue to say that they believe that two
and two make four, but that they know it, they will say that they
believe that they will die before the end of the century, though they
will not say that they know that. The distinction between the certain
and the probable is felt to be far too important not to be marked by
corresponding varieties of speech; and speech has made them according."
____
July 10. This morning Harrington fulfilled his promise of acquainting
me with a few of the reasons which prevented his taking refuge in the
"half-way houses" between the Bible and Religious Scepticism. Mr. Fellowes
was an attentive listener. Harrington had entitled his paper,--
REASONS FOR DECLINING THE VIA MEDIA BETWEEN REVEALED RELIGION AND
ATHEISM--OR SCEPTICISM WITH SPECIAL REFERENCE TO THE THEORIES OF
MR. THEODORE PARKER AND MR. FRANCIS NEWMAN.
I shall be brief; not being solicitous to suggest doubts to others,
but merely to justify my own.
Both Mr. Parker and Mr. Newman make themselves very merry with a
"book-revelation," as they call it; and if they had given any thing
better,--more rational or more certain than the Bible,--how gladly
could I have joined in the ridicule! As it is, I doubt the solidity
of the theories they support, and hardly doubt that, if the principles
on which they reject the Bible be sound, they ought to go much farther.
Both affirm the absurdity of a special external revelation to man;
both, that the fountain of spiritual illumination is exclusively
from within, and not from without. A few brief citations will set
this point in a clear light. "Religion itself." says Mr. Parker,
"must be the same thing in each man; not a similar thing, but just
the same; differing only in degree."* "The Idea of God, as a fact
given in man's nature, is permanent and alike in all; while the
sentiment of God, though vague and mysterious, is always the same in
itself." (ibid. p. 21)--"Of course, then, there is no difference but
of words between revealed Religion and natural Religion; for all actual
Religion is revealed in us, or it could not be felt." (ibid. p. 33). The
Absolute Religion, which he affirms to be universally known, he defines
as "Voluntary Obedience to the Law of God,--inward and outward Obedience
to that law he has written on our nature, revealed in various ways
through Instinct, Reason, Conscience, and the Religious Sentiment."
(ibid. p. 34). Similarly, Mr. Newman says, "What God reveals to us he
reveals within, through the medium of our moral and spiritual senses."
(Soul, p. 59) "Christianity itself has practically confessed, what is
theoretically clear,"--you must take his word for both,--"that an
authoritative external revelation of moral and spiritual truth is
essentially impossible to man." (Soul, p. 59) "No book-revelation can
(without sapping its own pedestal) authoritatively dictate laws of human
virtue, or alter our a priori view of the Divine character." (Ibid. p.
58)
----
* Discourses of Matters pertaining to Religion, p. 36.
----
"Happy race of men," one is ready to exclaim, with this Idea of God,
one and the same in all; this "Absolute Religion," which is also
"universal"; this internal revelation, which supersedes, by
anticipating, all possible disclosures of an external revelation,
and renders it an "impertinence." Men in all ages and nations must
exhibit a delightful unanimity in their religious notions, sentiments,
and practices!