The happy ending of the war stimulated, as has been said, the
sentiment of Unity. The success of the government in putting down the
rebellion filled the air with the spirit of union. The restoration of
political harmony suggested a deeper harmony, when divisions should
cease. At this moment, in April, 1865, the indefatigable Dr. Bellows,
who had been the soul of the Sanitary Commission, summoned all Christian
believers of the liberal persuasions to a convention in his church for a
more complete organization. The invitation was most generously
interpreted, and was hailed by some who could be called Christians only
under the most elastic definition of the term. A prominent layman of the
Unitarian body brought an elaborate creed which he wished the convention
to adopt; and a distinguished minister of the West was of the opinion
that the work of perfect organization could best be done by the adoption
of stringent articles of faith. But the minimum of belief was imposed.
The preamble of the constitution, the work of reconciling minds, reads
thus: "Whereas the great opportunities and demands for Christian labor
and consecration, at this time, increase our sense of the obligations of
all disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ to prove their faith by
self-denial and by the devotion of their lives and possessions to the
service of God, and the building up of the kingdom of his son,
Therefore." Then follow the articles. It was this phrase, "Lord Jesus
Christ," that provoked discussion. The struggle was renewed at Syracuse
on October 8th of the next year, 1866, and an attempt was made to
explain away the force of the declaration by announcing that while the
preamble and articles of the constitution represented the opinions of
the majority, yet they were not to be considered an authoritative test
of Unitarianism, or to exclude from fellowship any who though differing
in belief "are in general sympathy with our purpose and practical aims."
But this was not considered by the radicals as satisfactory. For in the
first place the title of "Lord" seemed to contain by implication a
doctrine which could not be subscribed to, as the "Lordship" of Jesus
was supposed to be supernatural. Here seemed to be a fundamental
difference between those who held to the old world's idea of a spiritual
kingdom, and those who proclaimed the new world's idea of a spiritual
democracy. In fact, one of the leaders--Dr. Bellows--plainly said if
there was to be any change it must be made in the other direction; "we
are to consider not only the few on the one side, who may or may not
care to unite with us, but the great body of Christians of all
denominations, the Universal Church of Christ; I demand liberality to
them, the liberality which acknowledges their Lord and Leader, and
welcomes them to a household whose hearth glows with faith in and
loyalty to the personal Saviour." It was plainly declared by him that
Unitarians assumed the name of liberal Christians, because they allowed
liberality of inquiry and opinion _within the pale of Christian
discipleship_. This of itself was enough to create a palpable division,
but it was felt besides that freedom of interpretation did not imply
freedom of rejection. The phrase _Lordship of Jesus_, although as little
of a creed as could be devised, was hostile to freedom, besides not
being altogether true, as Jesus never claimed to be infallible. The
radicals, under the lead of Francis E. Abbot, attempted to introduce a
substitute for the original preamble, inculcating unity of spirit and of
work as the basis of the "National Conference of Unitarian and
Independent Churches." This substitute was not carried, and a final
breach between the Independents and the Unitarians was thus established.
This was inevitable twenty-five years ago; it could not happen to-day,
when both wings are united in one body.
For my part I did not go to Syracuse, having foreseen what eventually
occurred, namely, the intended solidification of the Unitarian body by
the strengthening of the bonds of organization. My own personal
experience, which other radicals knew nothing of, led me to this
conclusion. My church edifice on 40th Street was begun in the spring of
1863. The two ministers in New York were present at the informal service
of laying the corner-stone. The walls were going up during the summer;
on the week of the riot the mob called the workmen off, threatening to
destroy what was built if the masons did not leave. The building was
finished in the winter, and dedicated on Christmas Day. To the warm
personal invitation which was sent to all the Unitarian clergy in New
York and Brooklyn--there were but three then--no response was returned;
and when my father and I went to the church there were no ministers on
the platform. We went through the service, my father offering the prayer
and I preaching the sermon. No remark was made at the time beyond an
expression of surprise at the non-appearance of the "brethren." The next
day my father, who had come from Boston on purpose to attend the
dedication, and whose blindness was approaching fast, went to make a
friendly visit on Dr. Bellows. On his return, when asked if any reason
was assigned for the failure to participate in the proceedings of the
day before, he said that the duties of Christmas were alleged as the
cause. I was sure there was another explanation behind; and as soon as I
had put my father in the train for home wrote to Dr. Bellows, taxing him
among the rest with discourtesy. It was evident that such a charge was
anticipated and prepared for; that the ministers had met and had agreed
on a course to be pursued in my case. For at once there came a reply to
my note, accusing me of studiously neglecting all the usual observances
of the denomination. My invitation had not been official; there was no
"church"; there had never been any sacrament; the allegiance to
fundamental doctrines of the sect had been slack. All this was true, and
no attempt at exculpation was made, but it was felt that a breach
existed. The excitements of the war overshadowed everything else at this
period, and nothing more was said. My Society was duly represented at
the first conference; but as soon as our side was argued,--as it was by
D. A. Wasson,--it was plain that the spirit of organization prevailed
and was against us. A division was inevitable. The "Independents" must
form a separate party.
This virtual exclusion occasioned the formation of the Free Religious
Association. A meeting was held on the 5th of February, 1867, at
Dr. C. A. Bartol's, in Boston, to consider a plan for creating a new
association on the basis of free thought. Very strong words were spoken
on that occasion. One man, I recollect, spoke of all churches, all
ministers, and all religion as being outgrown. But the majority were of
the opinion that religion was an eternal necessity, and the
administration of it an absolute demand. Dr. Bartol himself was always a
warm friend of the Association, appearing on the platform, speaking
always hopefully, one of the most welcome of its supporters. The
Association was formed in the spring of that same year. In the plan of
organization it was distinctly announced that the aim of the Association
was to "promote the interest of pure religion, to encourage the
scientific study of theology, and to increase fellowship in the spirit;
and to this end all persons interested in these objects are cordially
invited to its membership." Thus the object of the Association was
exceedingly broad. It proposed to remove all dividing lines and to unite
all religious men in bonds of pure spirituality, each one being
responsible for his own opinion alone, and in no degree affected in his
relations with other associations. If the movement had been in the hands
of orthodox and well-reputed people, it would have seemed not only large
but noble and beneficent. Being, as it was, in the hands of a few
radical clergymen and laymen, it was supposed to be "infidel" in its
character; and was misrepresented and abused accordingly.
At first, the dissensions of the sects were rebuked. Afterwards, the
scope of the idea was extended; all the religions of the world being put
on an equality of origin and purpose. The spiritual nature of man was
assumed; the universality of religious feeling; the inherent tendency to
worship, aspiration, prayer, being taken for granted as an element in
the best minds; all churches and confessions of faith being looked upon
as achievements of the soul; Jesus being classed among the leaders of
humanity; the Bible being accepted as a record of spiritual and moral
truth; and the church being regarded as an organization to diffuse
belief. The foundation, therefore, was a pure Theism, and the effort
contemplated the elevation of all mankind to the dignity of children of
the Highest. That this aim was always borne in mind is not pretended.
The negative side was made too conspicuous. Now and then there was a
lurch in the direction of denial. There was too much criticism, and it
was not always just. There was too much speculation, and it was not
always wise. The plan of letting each sect tell its own story was a
little confusing at the start. Still, on the whole, the object was
pretty faithfully kept in view. Lucretia Mott suggested that the word
"religion" should be substituted for the word "theology," but the word
"religion" was too vague to afford ground for discussion, and it was
felt that the phrase "scientific" sufficiently explained, through the
substitution of the scientific for the theological method, the purpose
of the association. Moreover, the purpose was to remove _theological_
differences, the only differences that existed.
There were names of distinguished men and women on our list of
officers, members, speakers, and friends--Ralph Waldo Emerson, Amos
Bronson Alcott, Gerrit Smith, George William Curtis, Edward L. Youmans,
Nathaniel Holmes, William Lloyd Garrison, Wendell Phillips, Rowland G.
Hazard, Lucretia Mott, Lydia Maria Child, Ednah D. Cheney. Thomas W.
Higginson was one of our most effective speakers; John Weiss read on our
platform his most brilliant paper on "Science and Religion"; David
Atwood Wasson lent us the light of his countenance.
Our greatest want was the want of a leader,--a man not only of competent
learning and spiritual enthusiasm, but of natural impulse and vigor; a
man of the people, a man of rugged speech, a man of vivacity and humor.
If Theodore Parker had been alive he might have taken this position, and
distinguished himself as a leader in this movement; as it was, there was
no one who could take his place, and the enterprise flagged accordingly,
lacking the popular zeal which would give it currency. The speculative
character of the association was always against it and rendered it
somewhat dry; but this under the circumstances was inevitable, because
we were forced to deal with technicalities of credence, and had not
power enough to get beyond them into the universalities of faith.
There was an expectation in many quarters that the association would
devote itself to beneficent projects; and this was natural, because it
seemed as if those who gave up the bond of belief must adopt the bond of
work. Mr. Emerson seems to have had a similar desire. "I wish," he said,
"that the various beneficent institutions which are springing up like
joyful plants of wholesomeness all over this country, should all be
remembered as within the sphere of this committee,--almost all of them
are represented here,--and that within this little band that has
gathered here to-day should grow friendship." But in the first place,
ours was not a philanthropic institution; its aim was religious
entirely, as it attempted to substitute the universality of religion for
the one faith of Christendom. The chief workers in several forms of
charity presented their schemes for our consideration, and at one time
it looked as if we must be borne away into some philanthropic
enterprise. The current, however, which carried us towards "religious"
unity was too strong.
And then, at that time there was little scientific philanthropy. The
word _charity_ was more or less associated with patronage and pity, the
very things that we wanted to avoid; they who were bent on wiping out
distinctions could not countenance these, and it was safer not to let
our hearts get the better of our reason. But even if there had been a
scientific treatment of humane questions, we were afraid of the danger
of becoming too much absorbed in this kind of work, and so of losing
sight of our chief end.
At present the idea of our Association is pretty well domesticated in
Christendom. It was not, after all, entirely new. In 1845 and 1846
Frederick Denison Maurice, lecturing on the Boyle Foundation in London
on "The Religions of the World and their Relations to Christianity,"
attempted to do justice to the ancient faiths of India, Persia, Egypt,
Greece, and Rome. In 1882, in Edinburgh, eminent men discussed the same
problems under the title of "The Faiths of the World." In 1871 James
Freeman Clarke published his "Ten Great Religions." The study of
comparative religion has been going on for many years. When Mozoomdar
came to this country a few years ago, there was such a rush for him
among American orthodox Christians that the Free Religious Association
could not get at him at all, though it had tried in vain to get a real
Brahmin on its platform. True, there were differences of opinion among
the orthodox students of the old-world systems. Some regarded the
ancient religions as effete; some denied that Christianity touched them
at more than one or two points; some treated them simply as preparations
for the crowning faith of Christ. Still, whatever their differences, all
agreed that the religious instinct was universal; that there was a
ground for revelation in the human heart; since Carlyle's famous lecture
in "Heroes," delivered in 1840, it was impossible to regard Mahomet as
an impostor, or to look upon religion as a fabrication of the priests,
as an attempt to practise upon human ignorance and fear.
Among the Unitarians our conception is familiar. At the convention that
was held in Philadelphia, in October, 1889, both parties, the most
conservative and the most radical, sat side by side. A manager of the
Free Religious Association delivered one of the addresses, and said: "I
never believed one tithe as much as I believe to-night. Never did I have
such faith in God; never did I so believe in man; never did I see such a
glorious outlook for the Church; never did I hold such a glad theory of
human hope for the future." The secretary of the American Unitarian
Association was full of joy. The secretary of the Western Unitarian
Conference quoted the opinion of the Western churches, assembled at
Chicago in May, 1887, and declared "our fellowship to be conditioned on
no doctrinal tests, and welcomes all who wish to join us to help
establish truth and righteousness and love in the world." A prominent
leader of Unitarianism in Illinois uttered himself thus: "Whatever its
traditions, whatever its present positions, or its prospects, this
spiritual commonwealth is extra-Unitarian, extra-American,
extra-Christian; it is human, and on that account it is universal, and
it is divine." Another speaker at this convention declared that "the
hand that shall hold this master key is Christ, as the modern mind
conceives him,--Christ healing the sick, raising the dead, cleansing the
leper, casting out devils from society and business, from politics and
religion; Christ, the friend of Lazarus and of Mary Magdalen; Christ
robed in absolute justice and also in transcendant love, and embracing
the whole world."
It is not claimed that this extraordinary change in ecclesiastical
fellowship and sympathy is due to the Free Religious Association. That
was one of the signs of the times, and is an effect rather than a cause;
but it is a sign of the grander unity. When the portrait of Theodore
Parker is hanging on the walls of Channing Hall; when a cordial welcome
is extended to all seekers for the light; when the East and West are
ready to embrace in a fellowship of aspiration; when the young men are
all alight with fresh hope and fresh endeavor, we may with confidence
anticipate the time when there shall be but one fold, and the aim of the
Free Religious Association be met.
The emancipation from denominational trammels was of great service to
the young minister. It is true that he was still in a "church" which
kept him within ecclesiastical associations; but these fetters were not
heavy, and they were soon to be thrown off. For in the spring of 1869,
the church was sold to another congregation. This was done partly
because the acoustic properties of the building were not favorable, and
partly because the place was not suited to the genius of the new
society. "There was no room in the inn," was the subject of the last
sermon preached in that building. Lyric Hall, to which we removed, is
situated on Sixth Avenue, between 40th and 41st streets. It is a large
room fifty by one hundred feet. During the week it was used as a dancing
hall, but on Sundays it was arranged for a religious service. A small
organ was placed there, a platform was built, and seats were brought up
from the cellar below. The first sermon preached there was on "Secular
Religion," and it indicated the whole character of the services. The
most remarkable thing, as regards myself, that happened in Lyric Hall,
was the adoption of the habit of speaking without notes. The light from
the avenue was too far off for reading, and the speaker was therefore
obliged to dispense with a manuscript altogether. A theme was first
chosen that admitted of subdivisions, so that as fast as the speaker
exhausted one he could fall back on another. The habit soon became so
familiar that no difficulty was experienced in handling the most
complicated subject. Here we remained until the spring of 1875, when we
removed to Masonic Temple, on Sixth Avenue and 23d Street.
This building, which was very large and handsome, had just been erected
by the Masons, who designed it for their own accommodation. The
structure having cost, however, more than was anticipated, the owners
were obliged, reluctantly, to let the large hall, which they did for
literary and religious purposes only. We were the first to occupy it.
The hall was spacious and stately, with fixed seats for about a thousand
people. A fine organ stood at one end of the platform; at the other end
there was a large reception room. The first sermon there was on
"Reasonable Religion." The audience was never large--never more than
eight or nine hundred, usually six or seven hundred. The form of service
much resembled the form common in Unitarian churches, with the exception
that Mr. Conway's "Sacred Anthology" was substituted for the Bible, and
the other exercises were more universal in their character. It had long
ceased to be a Unitarian congregation. There were people of Catholic
training, many of Protestant training, some of no religious training
whatever, materialists, atheists, secularists, positivists--always
thinking people, with their minds uppermost. It was a church of the
unchurched. George Ripley, the journalist, was always there; E. C.
Stedman, the man of letters; Calvert Vaux, the architect; Sanford R.
Gifford, the painter; Henry Peters Gray, the artist, was there until he
died; C. P. Cranch, the poet, was a member of the Society as long as he
was in the city. In the Lyric-Hall days, Judge Geo. C. Barrett had a
seat in the audience. The secular character was always prominent. When
we had a church on 40th Street, the large basement was used for music,
dramatic performances, readings, festivities, social gatherings. In
Lyric Hall, these were continued as far as they could be.
The "Fraternity Club" was organized in 1869 by a devoted member of the
Society for the entertainment and improvement of its members; and drew
together very brilliant minds both within and without the immediate
fellowship. The meetings were held once in two weeks, when an essay was
read, a debate carried on, and a paper presented; all the performers
being nominated in advance by the President. The work was mainly done by
a few young men, who have since become eminent in various fields--as
teachers, lawyers, literary critics, publishers,--and by witty women not
a few. There were about seventy members, each one standing for some
peculiar accomplishment. The subjects of the essays were such as these,
illustrating the breadth of the intellectual interest: On "Taste"; on
"Expressions"; on "The Coming Man"; on "Wordsworth"; on "The Tree of
Life"; on "Spencer's Britomart as the Type of Woman"; on "Light and
Laughter"; on "Successful People"; on "Culture"; on "The Cultivation of
the Masses." The subjects for debate were equally varied: "Ought the
sexes to be educated apart?"; "Does a house burn up or burn down?"; "Is
the highest musical culture compatible with the highest intellectual
development?"; "Is there a distinctly American literature as contrasted
with that of England?"; "Should matrimonial union be contracted early or
late?"; "Ought we to cultivate most those faculties in which we
naturally excel, or those in which we are naturally deficient?"; "Does
increase of culture involve decrease of amusement?"; "Is the existence
of a 'Mute inglorious Milton' possible?"; "Will giving the franchise to
women exert a beneficial influence on society?"; "Had you rather be more
stupid than you seem, or seem more stupid than you are?"
The "papers," of which there are some nine volumes existing, were
receptacles for the fancy, imagination, sentiment, and humor of the
editors or their co-editors; there were verses, stories, criticisms,
jokes, illustrations, in them; each had its name: "The Bubble," "The
Venture," "Bric-a-Brac," "Stuff," "The Rag-Bag." The club ceased soon
after the Society disbanded, in 1880.
The root idea of the Society, apart from its independence, was the
mingling of the spiritual and the natural; the domestication of faith.
With a view of making the idea more prevailing and complete, a
children's service in the afternoon was substituted for the regular
Sunday-school. A book was prepared, "The Child's Book of Religion," by
the pastor, for this express purpose. There were responsive readings,
recitations in unison, songs, and an address, simple and anecdotical, by
the minister.
The Society was never fashionable, or even popular. At one period--that
of the Richardson-McFarland matter--there was a vast deal of
misrepresentation, criticism, and abuse, but all this had no effect on
the constituency of the parish. There was the same loyalty, the same
interest, the same determination to sustain a thoroughly liberal
ministry, by which every form of conviction was made conducive to a
purely spiritual faith.
It was never pretended that the Society was anything more than a
beginning. A small and feeble beginning, but of something that was to
grow and spread; the beginning of a faith that is as rational as it is
wide. Its influence was more diffusive than concrete as an instituted
thing. It is the pride and consolation of those who began it that they
removed some of the barriers that divided the great brotherhood of
believing men.
My ministry in New York ended in the spring of 1879. Its close was due
entirely to my ill-health. A year before the doctors had warned me not
to continue longer than was necessary my rate of speed. They urged me to
go slower, to "take in sail," and to withdraw as far as I could from all
public demonstrations. Measures were taken against every emergency, and
I sailed away in the French steamer, with the hope that in six months I
might regain my nervous power, and return. There was first the
exhilarating sea voyage; then the beautiful city hall of Rouen, the
churches and famous buildings, the square where Joan of Arc suffered;
then came Paris with its enchantments; after that Basel showed its great
Holbeins, and its lovely promenade overlooking the river; this led to
the celebrated baths at Ragatz in Switzerland, the placid waters of
Pfeffers', the gorge, the hotel gardens, and the lovely walks; after
this came the pass of the Spluegen, the Via Mala, the hotel at the summit
of the pass among the snows, the pastures, the wild goats; then came
Lake Como in Italy, Bellagio, the charming Villa Serbeloni, looking down
upon the two lakes, Como and Lecco, the vineyards ripening in the sun,
the terraces, looking across upon the mountains; then Milan opened its
great cathedral, the gallery of the Brera, the ancient church of Saint
Ambrose. Afterwards came Florence and its heavenly environs, its
pictures and statues and public buildings, its groves and stately drives
and lovely villas; Florence was followed by Siena, and there I saw the
great cathedral, walked on the esplanade, enjoyed the public square, the
palaces, the pictures of Sodoma. From there I went to Rome, in December.
It was all in vain; I became satisfied that the complaint was not of a
temporary nature, not owing to overwork or over-excitement, not easily
cured--if curable at all,--but nervous and hereditary. Thereupon, I
wrote a letter to my trustees absolutely resigning my office and
declining to be a clergyman any longer, as I could not attempt to renew
the same kind of labor. An attempt was made to secure a successor;
several names were mentioned, and among men greatly my superiors in
learning and eloquence, but none, it was thought, represented the
precise form of speculation, the exact view of religion which my friends
desired. The Society therefore was disbanded, and no attempt has been
made since to reorganize it. The members were scattered, some among
other churches, some among other cities, while some never joined any
religious society whatever. Thus a thriving and growing organization is
now simply a memory.