X. THE PROGRESS OF RELIGIOUS THOUGHT IN AMERICA.

An article in the _North American Review_ for April, 1885, on "Free

Thought in America," is chiefly significant as showing how gradual and

tentative the progress of thought in religion was. The comments on

individuals are often wide of the mark, but the general drift is quite

correct. The course was shadowy, but the main point was unmistakable. At

this day, the wholesale abuse of religion is harmless, and can exert no

wide influence. The friends of liberal thought are against it; and those

who seek the old grim conclusion do so in another way, striving to

substitute a new faith in nature for the old faith in divine

inspiration, and to prove the latter to have been a growth rather than

an imposition. The study of comparative religions has put a new face on

the question, and the concern is now to discover the source of faith in

the supernatural and not to make it appear a creation of priestcraft. No

sooner had serious investigations into antiquity become known, than the

method pursued by Voltaire and Dupuis was abandoned, and each generation

since has confirmed the facts of historic development.

That my own immediate predecessors were Emerson and Parker is most true.

With the writings of the former I was familiar; the latter was my

intimate friend. Perhaps my theological views are due to him more than

to any other man, though the circumstances of his generation were

peculiar, and determined, in a much greater degree than in my own case

was possible, the cast of his thought. The Unitarian controversy, in

which he played so prominent a part, and by stress whereof he was driven

into some of his positions, is over. The anti-slavery struggle, into

which he threw himself and as a result of which his religious

antagonisms were sharpened, was ended many years ago.

Poe said in the preface to "Eureka," that perfect beauty was a guaranty

of perfect truth; so I felt--felt rather than reasoned--that a great

character was sufficient proof of the truth of doctrine, and I accepted

the teaching on the strength of the nobleness which was before my eyes.

Later researches confirmed my opinions, but while I was under Parker's

influence, his theological views were accepted without much

consideration; his unique style of personality laying my heart as it

were under a spell.

Emerson was a man of colder temperament, thinner of blood, more spare

in frame; of finer intellectual fibre, of more commanding intellectual

supremacy; not a combatant on any field; a sweet, gracious, shadowy

personality; calm, lucid, imperturbable; pursuing knowledge along the

spiritual path of pure thought, although he was also a student of books;

a regenerator of mind rather than a reformer of customs; a prophet,

distinguished for penetration rather than for will. His ideas were

substantially the same as Parker's, but he did not arrive at them in the

same way, or hold them in the same spirit, or apply them with the same

directness. He carried them out further, not being hindered, as his

contemporary was, by the immediate necessities of the hour. In short, he

was another sort of man entirely. Both were transcendentalists, but

Parker shaped his philosophy to the working exigencies of his

generation, while Emerson let his stream freely in the air. The writer

of the article in question accuses Emerson of want of pathos, and

declares that this was the lack of the transcendentalists, as a school.

But he could hardly charge this on Parker, who was an ardent

transcendentalist, but whose very language was vascular, who affected

multitudes of men and women, and who held audiences by the heartstrings.

Did Hopkins or Bellamy or Edwards melt people? Were the preachers of

Calvinism priests of sorrow? This is a matter of temperament and not of

creed. Extreme rationalists leave their congregations in tears, and

extreme churchmen dismiss theirs unmoved, the humors of the men deciding

the issues of their ministrations. The closer to the ground, the more

abundant the sympathy. The question is whether one is more mundane or

more ethereal by native gift and endowment.

That transcendentalism was mainly speculative may be doubted, but if it

was so this may be accounted an incidental circumstance to be explained

by the prevailing theological temper of the age, and the duty imposed on

it of transferring the body of doctrine to an ideal realm; a task which

demands an intellectual effort of no common magnitude. And when with

this task was joined the endeavor to sift out the purely spiritual ideas

from the mass of dogmatical and ecclesiastical error, it is no wonder

that it should have been speculative in its tendency. Certainly, Brook

Farm was concrete enough, and the transcendentalists were, as a rule,

interested in social reconstruction, though not in a way to touch

popular emotion. One cannot, even at this distance, think of the

quickening radiance shed by the transcendentalists over the whole region

of religious belief and duty, without gratitude. The hymns, the sermons,

the music, the Sunday-schools, the prayers, the charities, the social

ministrations, breathed forth a fresh spirit. If there were fewer tears

of woe, there was more weeping for joy. There was too much gladness for

crying. Life was made sunny. Human nature was interpreted cheerfully.

There was an unlimited future for misery, ignorance, turpitude. Sin was

remanded to the position of crudity, and was banished from the heavenly

courts. Violence was protested against in laws, customs, manners,

speech. Harsh doctrines were criticised. Austere views were discarded.

Intellectual barriers were removed. Spiritual channels were deepened and

widened. Light was let into dark places. The brightest aspects of

divinity were presented. Immortality was rendered native to the soul.

The life below was regarded as the portal to the life above.

In my own case, whatever of enthusiasm I may have had, whatever

transports of feeling, whatever glow of hope for mankind, whatever ardor

of anticipation for the future, whatever exhilaration of mind towards

God, whatever elation in the presence of disbelief in the popular

theology, may be fairly ascribed to this form of the ideal philosophy.

It was like a revelation of glory. Every good thought was encouraged.

Every noble impulse was heightened. It was balm and elixir to me. If

transcendentalism did not appear as a sun illuminating the entire mental

universe it was the fault of my exposition alone. Absolute faith in that

form of philosophy grew weak and passed away many years since, and the

assurance it gave was shaken; but the sunset flush continued a long time

after the orb of day had disappeared and lighted up the earth. Gradually

the splendor faded, to be succeeded by a softer and more tranquil gleam,

less stimulating but not less beautiful or glorious. The world looks

larger under the light of stars. I always loved Blanco White's

magnificent sonnet to Night, but never appreciated its full significance

until the scientific view had succeeded to the transcendental, and I

began to walk by knowledge, steadily and surely, but not buoyantly any

more. It would be a mistake to suppose that anything like pain, sadness,

or sterility accompanies the departure of an old faith, when a new one

takes its place and soon opens fresh prospects of good. The universe but

grows larger: other methods are adopted, other hopes are entertained,

other consolations are presented, and soon the mind adjusts itself to

the altered conditions. The downcast mood of George Eliot, of the author

of "Physicus," and of many another less distinguished unbeliever, may be

due in part to temperament, in part to the first feeling of chill that

ensues upon a transitional period, which brings in a different climate;

but the allegation of lasting coldness, gloom, discontent, is wholly

groundless. The old fable says that quails drop from the clouds, that

even rocks quench the traveller's thirst. There is, in short, no

wilderness.

That the creed was "filmy," the foothold "unsteady," is altogether

likely, for the ancient supports were removed, the pillars that replaced

them were shaking, and tradition alone remained to hold by. But religion

was still the Poetry of Life, and kept its place among the interests

singly represented by art, music, literature, philosophy, those fine

intimations of a higher state, those splendid foreshadowings of the

future, those noble efforts to solve problems that must be forever

insoluble. My creed did not pretend to be final or even definite. It was

simply a study, a preliminary sketch, an essay towards truth. A claim to

completeness, to logical consistency, would have been fatal. Still less,

if possible, did it pretend to meet popular wants. It resolutely turned

in the opposite direction, and took up positions which, it was

understood, the general public could not occupy without abandoning all

its works and retiring to other ground. No effort was made to commend it

to common opinion; on the contrary, everything like concession was

shunned, and the slightest signal of agreement with current beliefs was

regarded as a warning against a compromise of principle. Nothing was

assumed except the validity of the human faculties, including, of

course, the higher reason, the insight of genius, and such feelings as

were parts of the rational constitution, together with perfect liberty

in their exercise. Every theological system was repudiated; even the

doctrines of a conscious Deity and the individual immortality of the

soul were left open to discussion, the atheist and the materialist being

listened to with as much deference as any. These doctrines were

accepted, yet not on the ground of authority or tradition, but simply

considered as faiths, hopes, sentiments of the spiritual being; the

existence of living mind, coupled with the demand for unity, seeming to

guarantee the first, the fact of individual persistency appearing to

demonstrate the second. But all definition was carefully avoided,

conviction being confined to the main idea, and being purely spiritual

in its character, not in the least dogmatical, or exclusive of

knowledge. Of doctrine in the usual sense there was none. There was

merely thought. The very teaching was more of the nature of suggestion

than of final conclusion. For this reason no account of the "credo" can

be given, all fixed expressions of views being discountenanced as

premature, and therefore irrational. This should be distinctly

understood by those interested in coming at the truth on this subject.

The object was to disintegrate, to pulverize, to enable mind to float

freely in the air of intellect, to the end that it might crystallize

about natural centres. All dogmatism, that of the infidel as well as

that of the believer, of the man of science as well as of the

theologian, of the sensualist as well as of the spiritualist, was

obnoxious. There was no sympathy with those who regarded the case as

closed, either as the anti-Christian assailant or as the apologist did;

either with the school of Paine or with the school of Calvin. Hereafter

there may be articles of belief, at present there can be none. This, it

may be said, was a temporary, incidental position, quite indeterminate

and unsatisfactory. No doubt it was. That was all it pretended to be.

The sooner it disappeared and was succeeded by a more stable one, so it

was reasonable, the better, for that would indicate an advance in

rational judgment.

This task--the complete emancipation of the human mind from every form

of thraldom--will occupy liberal teachers for a long time to come. All

that can be said in defence of instituted religion, and all that can be

urged on the other side, had been put forward again and again, but in a

sectarian--that is, in a partisan--spirit. Now an even temper is

demanded. Unfortunately, impartiality is apt to degenerate into

indifference. Breadth of view is, as a rule, inconsistent with rapidity

of motion. The fact that the Free Religious Association had a small

constituency as compared with many an orthodox society is no evidence

whatever that the orthodox society is nearer the truth. The former was

broad enough to admit all religions, the latter shut out all save the

Christians, thus making them a special community saved by their belief.

The problem is to preserve and, if possible, deepen intellectual

enthusiasm while opposing fanatical adherence to dogmas; to associate

breadth with force, to unite freedom with earnestness, and to render the

love of truth more intense in proportion as the horizon recedes and

ideas multiply. Such ought to be the result of free thinking, and such

it is when _thinking_ goes hand in hand with _freedom_.

Critical studies must keep an even pace with philosophy, and both must

conspire to push back the lines of credence as far as faith in the

spiritual sentiment will permit. The latest investigations have

substantiated liberal conclusions and carried them into regions which

were inaccessible to the authorities of an early day. A certain amount

of denial was necessary of course, but this was made in view of a larger

affirmation which had to be brought forward, and was, moreover, confined

to matters incidental, not directed at the substance of faith. The

assumption of a spiritual nature in man guaranteed the inherent

genuineness of all aspiration.

No doubt the assumption of a creative religious nature in man lent aid

to the endeavor to glorify the pagan faiths, and predisposed the mind to

accept criticisms on Christianity; but scientific investigation of the

world's bibles went on quite independently of this assumption. It was

promoted by Catholics and Protestants, by Lutherans and Unitarians, by

Germans, French, English, Americans. Certainly the alleged antiquity of

a system is not in its favor; for ignorance, credulity, superstition,

are much older than this; older than the ancient books, than the ancient

thinkers. The oldest things are errors, delusions, falsities. The

allegiance of great minds simply proves the limitations of intellect.

Sir Thomas More believed in transubstantiation, and Samuel Johnson

believed in ghosts. The wide reverence for the Scriptures is an

impressive fact, until it is seen that no writings have been so guarded,

nor have such pains been taken in regard to any other literature to

create for it a habit of docile veneration. Fidelity is praiseworthy,

but it is no pledge of wisdom. On the contrary it draws attention to the

merits or demerits of the creed to which it is consecrated. Is

witchcraft respectable? Yet it had its martyrs. Is demoniacal possession

credible? Yet saints attested it. The fury of the fighter cannot vouch

for the worthiness of the cause. If it could, the narrowest credence

would be the truest as the world goes, and they who adhere to the

"Christian" tradition would be consigned to the darkest cells of it. The

newest thing is knowledge. This never paralyzes, and never is fanatical.

Its heat is stimulating yet gracious. Its zeal does not scorch or

consume. It awakens every faculty, keeps inquiry on the stretch, excites

the noblest ambition, and at the same time rebukes the partisan temper

in all its manifestations. Its reign is beneficent; its coming is full

of hope. It is ever looking forward with sanguine anticipation, and if

it is at times impatient, petulant, or imperious, it is because it is

fretted by stubborn obstacles that prevent the full realization of its

purpose to discover the truth. For a long time to come there will be

controversy, but its violence will disappear, its acrimony will

gradually cease, the passion for victory will yield to the love of

knowledge, and all genuine seekers will unite in the search after light.

In the last generation the progress of intelligent examination into

nature's secrets has been exceedingly rapid. During my active ministry I

was hardly aware of it, for though an assailant of the popular religion,

a champion of the freest thought, I was a defender of the current

religious ideas; since leaving the profession, the significance of the

mental revolution that is taking place, has been more fully revealed to

me. The advance has approached very near to the heart of the citadel.

The questions under discussion are fundamental ones, the existence of a

self-conscious deity, the fact of personal continuance beyond the grave,

the line of distinction between "material" and "spiritual" things. The

dispute hangs on invisible threads of logic. The conservatives occupy

positions which radicals of thirty years back could not assume.

The next step in the development of free thought must be toward the

realization of all the ideal supports of mankind, the spiritualizing of

the secular, the lifting into heavenly places of this world's activity,

the transfiguration of our common life. If by religion is understood the

striving after perfection in intellectual things by the untrammelled

pursuit of knowledge, in social concerns by the exercise of fraternal

kindness, in the spiritual world by aspiration towards a complete

surrender to natural law, every free thinker will encourage that and

will do what he can to promote it. That there is no final truth

discoverable must be admitted, but such a confession need not trouble

those who look manfully forward to a future of new discoveries, and gird

themselves to remove all obstacles to the knowledge of the world they

live in.

Robert Browning in his "Paracelsus," published in 1835, anticipates the

doctrine of evolution.

Thus He dwells in all,

From life's minute beginnings, up at last

To man--the consummation of this scheme

Of being--the completion of this sphere

Of life; whose attributes had here and there

Been scattered o'er the visible world before,

Asking to be combined.

In 1836, Emerson in his "Nature," reiterated this grand prophecy:

A subtle chain of countless rings,

The next unto the farthest brings,

The eye reads omens where it goes,

And speaks all languages, the rose;

And striving to be man, the worm

Mounts through all the spires of form.

In 1867, science had gone so far that it could announce the Unity of

Creation; the absolute Order and Law; one continuous Force; Progress as

the end of life. The eternal beauty existed for those who had eyes to

see. On this foundation the human heart, with its qualities of mercy,

pity, peace, and love, its sentiments of justice and equity, its hunger

for advance, its idea of goodness, built up a very noble and benignant

conception of deity and the sure hope of moral perfection.

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