"Yes, that is so. It needs more than the bellowings of such a man, more than the hostility of people who are not members of the Church, to hurt her in any serious degree. The man and his friends have a large rabble behind them, but they can only parade through the streets of England beating their drums and rattling their collecting boxes. The Church is safe."
"It is. And yet in another way, all this business is doing fearful harm to the morale of the country, limited though it may be. The mass of non-Christian people who might be gathered into the Church are looking down upon these unseemly contests with a sneer. They feel that there can be little good or truth in a system of philosophy which seems to them to be nothing but an arena of brawling fools. Therein comes the harm. Hamlyn isn't injuring church people, he is giving contraband of war to infidelity. And just at this particular moment in the world's history this is extremely dangerous. In thirty years, the danger will have passed away; to-day, it is great."
"And why particularly at this moment?"
"Why, because the world is utterly changing with extraordinary rapidity. That world which once adjusted itself so sweetly to our faith is vanishing, is gone. The new world which is arriving is unassimilated, unsorted, unexplained. The light hasn't entered it yet, it doesn't know how to correspond. The trouble lies in that. The new politics, science, philosophy, art, are only social habits. And these will not talk our language yet, or confess Christ. And this squabble and turmoil will retard the new adjustment for years, because outsiders won't even trouble to examine our claims or make experience of our system. And people are glad of any excuse to ignore or at least avoid Christianity. You see, a new religion has sprung up."
"Yes—go on."
"It is the religion of pleasure, excitement, nervous thrill bought at any cost. Renan, who had eyes and used them, saw that. He has given us the hint in his Abbess of Jouarre. 'Were the human race quite certain,' he says, 'that in two or three days the world would come to an end, the instinct of pleasure'—l'amour is his word—'would break out into a sort of frenzy; in the presence of death, sure and sudden, nature alone would speak, and very strange scenes would follow. The social order is preserved by restraint; but restraint depends upon a belief in a hereafter.' And already, 'If a man dies, shall he live again?' is the burden of a new soliloquy on the lips of a new Hamlet. Faith is becoming more and more an act, a habit, of heroism. So you see the harm Hamlyn and his gang are indirectly doing. But do you know where it seems to me the great counteracting influence to his work lies at the moment?"
"Where?"
"You will wonder to hear me say so, but I firmly think for the moment it lies in the ranks, and true love of our Lord, of the pious Evangelical Party in the Church! They are Catholic without knowing it. They think, and think sincerely, that the forms the Church has appointed, some of her Sacraments even, obscure the soul's direct communion with God. They are not in line with us yet. But there is a sterling and vivid Christianity among them. There is a personal adoration of Jesus which is strong and sweet, a living, wonderful thing. And, you see, all this section of the Church is exempt from the attacks of the extreme Protestants—who seem themselves to have hardly any Christianity at all. Nor do the really pious Evangelicals approve of this civil war. They won't be mixed up in it. They are far too busy doing good works and preparing themselves for the next world to join in these rowdy processions of the shallow, the ill-informed, or the malevolent. They don't approve of us, of course, but they have no public quarrel with what they see is substantially powerful for good. Since Hamlyn's brigade has been throwing mud at us, and we, of course, have defended ourselves to the best of our ability, the minds of those who are eager to justify their adhesion to the religion of pleasure cannot, at least if they have any logic or sincerity, avoid a consideration of the quiet Evangelicals."
"It is a new idea to me," said the doctor, refilling his pipe, "but I suppose you are right. They despise the whole business of agitation, and yet don't make it a pretext as the rationalists are glad to do. The whole thing is a miserable business! What annoys me, Vicar, is the facility with which a rowdy, ignorant man of the lower classes has been able to make himself a force."
"It is hard. But one must remember that however sincere he is—and I know nothing against his personal character—he only appeals to the ignorant and rowdy. Have you seen his new leaflet?"