as the foe and extirpator of slavery. He says that, at this day, the
"New Testament is the argumentative stronghold of those who are trying
to keep up the accursed system." Would it not have been candid to add,
that the New Testament has ever been also the stronghold of those who
oppose it, as well in this country as in America? It is on the express
ground to its supposed inconsistency with the maxims and spirit of
Christianity, that the great mass of Abolitionists hate and loathe it.
A public clamor against it was never raised in the days of ancient
slavery, nor is now in any country where Christianity is unknown.
The opposition to it in our own country was a religious one; that we
know full well; and so is the opposition of the American Abolitionists
at the present day. If selfish cupidity, on the one hand, appeals to
the New Testament for its continuance, so does philanthropy, on the
other, for its abolition; and though in my judgment the inferences of
the latter are far more reasonable, the mere fact that both parties
appeal to the book shows that the New Testament neither sanctions
it--rather the contrary by implication--nor expressly denounces
it;--Mr. Newman doubtless can do it safely. This very moderation of
language, however, has to many minds, and those of no mean capacity,
(the late Dr. Chalmers for example,) been regarded as an indication
of the wisdom which has presided over the construction of the New
Testament; it was not only a tone peremptorily demanded by the
necessary conditions of publishing Christianity at all, but was best
adapted,--nay, alone adapted,--in the actual condition of the world
in relation to slavery, to make any salutary impression.
Admitting that the great, the primary end of the Gospel was spiritual;
that it was the object of the Apostles to obtain for it a dispassionate
hearing among all nations; and that, however they might hope
indirectly to affect the temporal prosperity and political welfare of
mankind, all good of this kind was in their view subordinate to that
spiritual amelioration, which, if affected, would necessarily involve
all inferior social and political improvements;--I say, admitting this,
it is really difficult to imagine any other course open to a wise choice
than that which was actually adopted. I contend, that in not
passionately denouncing slavery, and in contenting themselves with
quietly depositing those principles and sentiments which, while
achieving objects infinitely more important, would infallibly abolish
it, the Apostles took the wisest course, even with relation to this
latter object,--though it was doubtless not the course into which a
blind fanaticism would have plunged. To enter upon an open crusade
against slavery in that age would have been to render the preaching of
the Gospel a simple impossibility, and to convert a professedly moral
and spiritual institute into an engine of political agitation; it would
have afforded the indignant governments of the world--quite prompt enough
to charge it with seditious tendencies--a plausible pretext for its
suppression. Both the primary and the secondary objects would have been
sacrificed; and the chains of slavery riveted, not relaxed. Slavery,
in that age, we must recollect, was interwoven with the entire fabric of
society in almost all nations. To denounce it would have been a
provocation, nay, a challenge, to a servile war in every country to
which the zeal of the Christian emissaries might carry the Gospel.
Contenting themselves, therefore, with the enunciation of those
principles which, where they are truly embraced, are inconsistent
with the permanent existence of slavery, and, if triumphant, insure
its downfall, the Apostles pursued that which was their great object;
and for those of an inferior order, patiently waited for the time
when the seed they had sown broadcast in the earth should
yield its harvest.
And surely the event has justified their sagacity. For to what, after
all, have just notions on this most important subject been owing,
except to this said Christianity? Though it is true that, owing to the
imperfect exemplification of its principles by men who profess it, it
has not yet done its work, it is doing it; though some Christian
nations--more shame for them--have slaves, none but Christian nations
are without them. Not only is the sincere admission of the maxims and
principles of the New Testament inconsistent with the permanent
existence of slavery, but the history of Christianity affords perpetual
illustrations of its tendency to destroy it. Even during the Dark Ages,
even in its most corrupted form, Christianity wrought for the practical
extinction of serfdom. Mr. Newman says that it was Christians, not men,
that the church sought to enfranchise; it little matters; she sought
to abolish all villanage. He says that even Mahometans do not like to
enslave Mahometans; I ask, can he find immense bodies of Mahometans
who contend that it is Contrary to the spirit, tendencies, and maxims,
if not precise letter, of their religion, to enslave any body? For it
was such a principle which expressly called forth the abhorrence and
condemnation of slavery in our own age and nation. It cannot be denied
that the movement by which this accursed system was, after so long a
struggle, exterminated amongst us, was an eminently religious one, as
regards its main supporters, the ground they took, and the
sacrifices they made.
"But Christian nations have defended and practised slavery!" you will say.
They have; and Christian nations have often practised the vices which
the "Book" expressly condemns,--just as all nations have practised many
things which their codes of morals or laws condemn. The question is
whether in the one case the Book, or in the other case the codes,
approve them; not, I presume, whether man is a very inconsistent animal.
But no system is made answerable for the violations of its spirit--except
Christianity.
Mr. Newman says that slaveholders make the "New Testament the
stronghold of the accursed system." It had been more to the purpose
if he had pointed out a passage or two which recommend it. He knows
that it is simply because it does not (for reasons already stated)
denounce it, that they say it approves it. Are you satisfied with
this reasoning? Then try it on another case,--for despotism is exactly
parallel. The New Testament does not expressly denounce that, and
for the same reasons; and the arguments for passive obedience have
been with equal plausibility drawn from its pages. Will the
Transatlantic republicans approve despotism on the same authority?
--Despotism has wrought at least as much misery to mankind as slavery,
and probably much more. Was it a duty of the Apostles, instead of laying
down principles which, though having another object, would infallibly
undermine it, to denounce despotism everywhere, and invite all people
to an insurrection against their rulers? If they had, the spiritual
objects of the Gospel would have been easily understood, and very
properly treated. Let me apply the argumentum ad hominem. Mr. Newman
has favored the world with his views of religious truth, and the
"spiritual" weapons by which its "champion" is to make it victorious
over mankind; he has also recorded his hatred of slavery and despotism,
where such magnanimity is perfectly safe, and perfectly superfluous.
Let me now suppose you, not only partly, but wholly of his mind, and
animated (if "spiritualism" will ever prompt men to do any thing,
except, as Harrington says, to write books against book-revelation),
--let me suppose you animated to go as missionary to the East to
preach this spiritual system: would you, in addition to all the rest,
publicly denounce the social and political evils under which the
nations groan? If so, your spiritual projects would soon be perfectly
understood, and summarily dealt with. It is in vain to say that, if
commissioned by Heaven, and endowed with power of working miracles,
you would do so; for you cannot tell under what limitations your
commission would be given; it is pretty certain that it would leave you
to work a moral and spiritual system by moral and spiritual means, and
not allow you to turn the world upside down, nor mendaciously tell it
that you came only to "preach peace," while every syllable you uttered
would be an incentive to sedition.
III. The last point on which you ask a few remarks is in relation to
the early spread of Christianity. Mr. Newman makes easy work of this
great problem. He says, "Before Constantine, Christians were but a
small fraction of the empire ..... In fact, it was the Christian
soldiers in Constanline's army who conquered the empire for
Christianity." (Phases, p. 162.)
In the first place, supposing the facts just as stated.--namely, that
it was the Christian soldiers of Constantine who conquered the empire
for Christianity,--who was it that conquered the army for Christianity?
When I find Mahometanism the prevalent religion through the English
regiments, I shall shrewdly suspect that the conquest of England for
Mahometanism will have been made an easy task, by its having already
made equal progress amongst the people generally!
I suppose it will not be denied that the soldiers, by whose aid
Constantine achieved this great victory, were themselves professedly
converts to Christianity; and Christianity as it had existed in the
times of the recent persecutions was not likely to allure men to the
profession of arms. I think, therefore, we may fairly assume, that,
if the imperial armies were to any considerable extent--and it must
have been ex hypothesi to a prevailing extent--composed of Christians,
Christianity had made at least equal progress in the ranks of civil
life. The one may be taken as the measure of the other; though we might
fairly suppose, both from the principles and habits of the Christians,
that they would be found in civil life in a larger ratio. The camp was
not precisely the place for them; the Gospel might find them there, it
rarely sent them. So that the question returns, How came it to pass
that the bulk of the armies which "conquered the empire for Christianity"
came to be Christians,--at least in name and profession?
"Ah!" you will say, "in name,--but they were strange Christians who
became soldiers." Very true; and it makes my argument the stronger. Mere
professors of a religious system only follow in the wake of its triumphs.
When those who do not care much for a system profess and embrace it,
depend upon it, it has largely triumphed. To suppose, therefore, that
Constantine conquered the empire for Christianity, while we admit that
the army was already Christian, is very like getting rid of the objection
in the way the Irishman proposed to get rid of some superfluous cart-loads
of earth. "Let us dig a hole," said he, "and put it in." It is much the
same here.
Constantine became a convert, perhaps from conviction, but certainly
rather late. Supposing him a political convert, as many have done, it
could only be because he saw that Christianity had done its work to
such an extent as to render it more probable that it would assist him
than that he could assist it. This induced him to take it under the wing
of his patronage. And on such a theory, what but such a conviction could
have justified him in the attempt for a moment? How could he be fool
enough to add to the difficulties of his position--a candidate for
empire--the stupendous difficulty of forcing upon his unwilling or
indifferent subjects a religion which by supposition they were any
thing but prepared to receive? If the prospects of Christianity had not
already decided the question for him, so far from receiving credit for
political sagacity, as he ever has done, he would deserve rather to be
considered an absolute idiot!
Again; is it not plain from history in general, and must we not infer
it from the nature of the case a priori, that Christianity must in some
fashion have conquered its millions before Constantine or any other
man was likely to attempt to conquer the empire for Christianity, or
to succeed in so doing if he had? Is there an instance on record of a
people suddenly, at a moment's notice, changing its religion, or
rather--for this is the true representation--of many different
nations changing their many different religions at the simple command
of their sovereign, and he too an upstart? In two cases, and in only
two, it may be done; first, by an unsparing use of the sword, the brief,
simple alternative of Mahomet, Death or the Koran; the other, when the
new form of belief has converted the bulk or a large portion of the
nation; of which, in this case, the conversion of the army is a
tolerably significant indication.
But again; if it be said that the people, or rather the many different
nations, abandoned their religions out of complaisance to their
sovereign, I answer, Why do we not see the same thing repeated when
Julian wished to reverse the experiment? They were not so pliant
then; then was it seen very dearly that the people were, as in
every other case, unwilling, as regards their religion, to be mere
puppets in the hands of their governors. He was animated by at least
as strong a hatred of Christianity as Constantine by a love of it.
Yet we see all the way through, that there was not a chance of
success for him.
"But there were some persecutions," you will say, "by Constantine."
True, but they were so trifling compared with what would have been
required had the conversion of an unbelieving and refractory empire
depended on such means, that few who read the history of religious
revolutions will believe that they were the cause of the change. Every
thing shows that a vast preceding moral revolution in the empire is
the only sufficient explanation of so sudden an event. Gibbon himself
admits Constantine's tolerant disposition.
"But," it may be said, "the old heathenism was worn out and effete;
no one thought it worth his while to stand up in its defence."
I answer, first, it seems to have been sufficiently loved, or at
least Christianity was sufficiently hated, to insure frequent and
sanguinary persecutions of the latter, almost up to the eve of
Constantine's accession. Secondly, you are to consider that, though
in the schools of philosophers, in the Epicurean or sceptical
atmosphere of the luxurious capital and other great cities, there was
unquestionably a numerous party to whom the old superstition was a
laughing-stock, there were vast multitudes to whom it was still, in
its various forms, a thing of power. You are to recollect that the
Roman empire was made up of many nations, each with a different mode
of religion, and to suppose that these different religions had ceased
to exercise the usual influence on vast multitudes of the people would
be mere delusion. If they were surrendered at last so easily, it could
only be because a great party--antagonistic to each--had been silently
forming in each nation, and undermining the power of the popular
superstitions. But, thirdly, if the representation were true, to
what can so singular a phenomenon--this simultaneous decay of different
religions, this epidemic pestilence amongst the gods of the Pantheon
--be ascribed, but to the previous influence of Christianity, and its
extensive conquests? And, fourthly, supposing this not the case, and
yet that the indifference in question existed, this indifference to
the old systems of religion would not presuppose equal indifference
to new, or induce the people to embrace them at the mere bidding of
their new master. If this were so, we ought to see the same phenomenon
repeated in the case of Julian. If, in their presumed indifference to
the old and the new, they listened to Constantine when he commanded
them to become Christians, why did not they manifest an equally
compliant temper when the Apostate enjoined them to become heathens,
and like Constantine, gave them both precept and example?
But look at the historic evidence on the subject long before the
establishment of Christianity. Is it possible for any candid person to
read the Epistle of Pliny to Trajan, and not see in that alone, after
making every deduction for any supposed bias under which the letter may
have been written (though, in fact, it is difficult to suppose any
bias that would not rather lead the writer to diminish the number of
the Christians than to exaggerate it),--is it possible, I say, to read
that singular state paper, and not feel that the new religion had
made prodigious progress in that remote province? and that, a fortiori,
if in Bithynia it had conquered its thousands of proselytes, in other
and more favored provinces it must have gained its tens of thousands?
To me the letter of Pliny speaks volumes; and if so much could be said
at so early a period as A. D. 107, what was the state of things two
centuries later?
Precisely the same conclusion must be arrived at if we consult the
uniform tone of the Christian apologists, from Justin Martyr to Minucius
Felix. Making here, again, what deductions you please for the fervid
eloquence and rhetorical exaggerations of such a man as Tertullian, it
is too much to suppose even his "African" impetuosity would have
ventured, not merely on the virulent invective, the bold taunts, with
which he everywhere assails the popular superstitions, but on such
strong assertions of the triumphant progress of the upstart religion,
unless there had been obvious approximation to truth in his statements.
"We were but of yesterday," says he, "and we have filled your cities,
islands, towns, and assemblies; the camp, the senate, the palace, and
the forum swarm with converts to Christianity." Apologist for
Christianity! Unless these words had been enforced by very much of
truth, he would have made Christianity simply ridiculous; and
Christians would have been necessitated to apologize for
their mad apologist.
The same conclusion equally follows from the consideration of those
very corruptions of Christianity, which no candid student of
ecclesiastical history will be slow to admit had already infected
it, many years before Constantine ventured to aid it by his equivocal
patronage. It was obviously its triumphant progress,--its attraction
to itself of much wealth,--the accession, to a considerable extent,
of fashion, rank, and power,--that chiefly caused those corruptions.
So long as the Christian Church was poor and despised, such scenes
as often attended the election of bishops in the great cities of the
empire would be quite impossible.
Under such circumstances the argument of Mr. Newman--judiciously
compressed into a few sentences--appears to me even ludicrous. How
different the course which Gibbon pursues! What a pity that the
great historian did not perceive that this statement would have led
him equally well to his desired end; that so brief a demonstration
would suffice to account for that unmanageable phenomenon, the rapid
progress and ultimate triumph of Christianity! He, on the contrary,
seems to have read history with very different eyes; and yet I suppose
no man will question either his learning or his sagacity. He finds
himself obliged to admit the conspicuous advance which the Gospel had
made before Constantine's accession, and employs every nerve to invent
sufficient natural causes to account for it. What a facile task would
he have had of it, if he had but bethought him that Christianity,
instead of having been to an enormous extent successful was, in
fact, waiting, in comparative failure, the triumphant aid of a
military conqueror! He might then have dispensed with the celebrated
chapter, and substituted for it the two pregnant sentences by which
Mr. Newmen has, in effect, declared it superfluous.
____
August 7. Three days ago (the evening before my return home) I managed
to prevail upon myself to have a close and formal discussion with
Harrington on the subject of his scepticism. We had a regular fight,
which lasted till midnight, and beyond. A good deal of it was (in a
double sense, perhaps) a nuktomachia. As I had no one to jot down
short-hand notes of our controversy,--perhaps it is as well for me and
for truth that there was none,--it is impossible that I should do more
than give you a succinct summary of its course. But its principal
topics are too indelibly impressed on my memory to leave me in doubt
about general accuracy.
I hardly know what led to it; I believe, however, it was an observation
he made on the different fates of metaphysical and physical science,--the
last all progress, and the first perpetual uncertainty. He had been
reading a remark of some philosopher who attributed this difference to
the more substantial incentives offered to the cultivation of the
physical sciences. "So that," said he, "they are, it seems, what our
German friends would call 'Brodwissenschaften'! Not the brain, as some
idly suppose, but the stomach, is the true organon of discovery, and
if the metaphysician could but be punctually assured of his dinner
(which has not always been the case), or at all events of a fortune,
we should soon have the true theories of the Sublime and
Beautiful,--of Ethics,--of the Infinite,--of the Absolute,--of Mind
and Matter,--of Liberty and Necessity; whereas I think we should
only have a multiplication of doubtful theories."
He remarked that he doubted the truth of the hypothesis in both its
parts; that not the want of adequate motives, but the intrinsic
difficulty of the subjects, had kept metaphysics back (on what
subjects had men expended more gigantic toil?); nor, on the other
hand, was it necessity that chiefly impelled man to cultivate physical
science; it was the desire of knowledge,--or rather, he added, the
love of truth; for what else was his admitted curiosity, in the last
resort, unless man is equally curious about falsehood and truth; "that
is," said he, laughing, "as curious after ignorance as after knowledge!
No," he continued, "the sciences are made arts for utilitarian purposes;
but the sciences themselves have a very different origin. For my own
part, I would as soon believe that Sir Isaac Newton excogitated his
system of the universe in hopes of being made one day Master of the
Mint." I assented, and, smiling, told him I was glad to find him admit
that there was in man a love of knowledge, identical with the love of
truth. He said he admitted the appetite, but denied that there was
always an adequate supply of food. He admitted that in physical science
man seemed capable of unlimited progress; but it seemed doubtful whether
this was the case in other directions. "What was there inconsistent
with scepticism in that?" he asked.
I answered, that it was not for me to say at what point of the scale
a man might become an orthodox doubter; but I was, at all events,
glad that he had not gone all the lengths which some had gone, or
professed to have gone; who, if they had not reached that climax
of Pyrrhonism, to doubt even if they doubt, yet had declared the
attainment of all truth impossible. I then bantered him a little
on the advantages of "absolute scepticism"; told him I wondered that
he should throw them away; and reminded him of the success with
which the sceptic might train on his adversary into the "bosky depths"
of German metaphysics,--the theories of Schelling, Fichte, Hegel. "If
truth be in any of those dusky labyrinths," said I, "you are not
compelled to find her; the more unintelligible the discussion becomes,
the better for the sceptic; you may not only doubt, but doubt whether
you even understand your doubts. You may play 'hide and seek' there
for ten thousand years." "For all eternity," was his reply. But he
said he had no wish to seek any such covert, nor to play the sceptic.
I told him I was glad to find that his scepticism did not--to use
Burke's expression on another subject--"go down to the foundations."
He answered that he was afraid it did on all subjects really of any
significance to man. "As to the present life," he continued, "I am
quite willing to accept Bayle's dictum: 'Les Sceptiques ne nioient
pas qu'il ne se fallut conformer aux coutumes de son pays, et
pratiquer des devoirs de la morale, et prendre parti en ces choses
la sur des probabilites, sans attendre la certitude.'"