Under the influence of this horrible creed, and from the unbounded sway exercised by the clergy who advocated it, the Scotch mind was thrown into such a state, that, during the seventeenth, and part of the eighteenth, century, some of the noblest feelings of which our nature is capable, the feelings of hope, of love, and of gratitude, were set aside, and were replaced by the dictates of a servile and ignominous fear. The physical sufferings to which the human frame is liable, nay, even the very accidents to which we are casually exposed, were believed to proceed, not from our ignorance, nor from our carelessness, but from the rage of the Deity. If a fire chanced to break out in Edinburgh, the greatest alarm was excited, because it was the voice of God crying out against a luxurious and dissolute city.[527] If a boil or a sore appeared on your body, that, too, was a divine punishment, and it was more than doubtful whether it might lawfully be cured.[528] The small-pox, being one of the most fatal as well as one of the most loathsome of all diseases, was especially sent by God; and, on that account, the remedy of inoculation was scouted as a profane attempt to frustrate His intentions.[529] Other disorders, which, though less terrible, were very painful, proceeded from the same source, and all owed their origin to the anger of the Almighty.[530] In every thing, His power was displayed, not by increasing the happiness of men, nor by adding to their comforts, but by hurting and vexing them in all possible ways. His hand, always raised against the people, would sometimes deprive them of wine by causing the vintage to fail;[531] sometimes, would destroy their cattle in a storm;[532] and sometimes, would even make dogs bite their legs when they least expected it.[533] Sometimes, He would display His wrath by making the weather excessively dry;[534] sometimes, by making it equally wet.[535] He was always punishing; always busy in increasing the general suffering, or, to use the language of the time, making the creature smart under the rod.[536] Every fresh war was the result of His special interference; it was not caused by the meddling folly or insensate ambition of statesmen, but it was the immediate work of the Deity, who was thus made responsible for all the devastations, the murders, and other crimes more horrible still, which war produces.[537] In the intervals of peace, which, at that period, were very rare, He had other means of vexing mankind. The shock of an earthquake was a mark of His displeasure;[538] a comet was a sign of coming tribulation;[539] and when an eclipse appeared, the panic was so universal, that persons of all ranks hastened to church to deprecate His wrath.[540] What they heard there, would increase their fear, instead of allaying it. For the clergy taught their hearers, that even so ordinary an event as thunder, was meant to excite awe, and was sent for the purpose of showing to men with how terrible a master they had to deal.[541] Not to tremble at thunder, was, therefore, a mark of impiety; and, in this respect, man was unfavourably contrasted with the lower animals, since they were invariably moved by this symptom of divine power.[542]
These visitations, eclipses, comets, earthquakes, thunder, famine, pestilence, war, disease, blights in the air, failures in the crops, cold winters, dry summers, these, and the like, were, in the opinion of the Scotch divines, outbreaks of the anger of the Almighty against the sins of men; and that such outbreaks were incessant is not surprising, when we consider that, in the same age, and according to the same creed, the most innocent, and even praiseworthy, actions were deemed sinful, and worthy of chastisement. The opinions held on this subject are not only curious, but extremely instructive. Besides forming an important part of the history of the human mind, they supply decisive proof of the danger of allowing a single profession to exalt itself above all other professions. For, in Scotland, as elsewhere, directly the clergy succeeded in occupying a more than ordinary amount of public attention, they availed themselves of that circumstance to propagate those ascetic doctrines, which, while they strike at the root of human happiness, benefit no one except the class which advocates them. That class, indeed, can hardly fail to reap advantage from a policy, which, by increasing the apprehensions to which the ignorance and timidity of men make them too liable, does also increase their eagerness to fly for support to their spiritual advisers. And the greater the apprehension, the greater the eagerness. Of this, the Scotch clergy, who were perfect masters of their own art, were well aware. Under their influence, a system of morals was established, which, representing nearly every act as sinful, kept the people in perpetual dread, lest unwittingly they were committing some enormous offence, which would bring upon their heads a signal and overwhelming punishment.
According to this code, all the natural affections, all social pleasures, all amusements, and all the joyous instincts of the human heart were sinful, and were to be rooted out. It was sinful for a mother to wish to have sons;[543] and, if she had any, it was sinful to be anxious about their welfare.[544] It was a sin to please yourself, or to please others; for, by adopting either course, you were sure to displease God.[545] All pleasures, therefore, however slight in themselves, or however lawful they might appear, must be carefully avoided.[546] When mixing in society, we should edify the company, if the gift of edification had been bestowed upon us; but we should by no means attempt to amuse them.[547] Cheerfulness, especially when it rose to laughter, was to be guarded against; and we should choose for our associates grave and sorrowful men, who were not likely to indulge in so foolish a practice.[548] Smiling, provided it stopped short of laughter, might occasionally be allowed; still, being a carnal pastime, it was a sin to smile on Sunday.[549] Even on week-days, those who were most imbued with religious principles hardly ever smiled, but sighed, groaned, and wept.[550] A true Christian would be careful, in his movements, to preserve invariable gravity, never running, but walking soberly, and not treading out in a brisk and lively manner, as unbelievers are wont to do.[551] So, too, if he wrote to a friend, he must beware lest his letter should contain any thing like jocoseness; since jesting is incompatible with a holy and serious life.[552]
It was, moreover, wrong to take pleasure in beautiful scenery; for a pious man had no concern with such matters, which were beneath him, and the admiration of which should be left to the unconverted.[553] The unregenerate might delight in these vanities, but they who were properly instructed, saw Nature as she really was, and knew that as she, for about five thousand years, had been constantly on the move, her vigour was well-nigh spent, and her pristine energy had departed.[554] To the eye of ignorance, she still seemed fair and fresh; the fact, however, was, that she was worn out and decrepit; she was suffering from extreme old age; her frame, no longer elastic, was leaning on one side, and she soon would perish.[555] Owing to the sin of man, all things were getting worse, and nature was degenerating so fast, that already the lilies were losing their whiteness, and the roses their smell.[556] The heavens were waxing old;[557] the very sun, which lighted the earth, was becoming feeble.[558] This universal degeneracy was sad to think of; but the profane knew it not. Their ungodly eyes were still pleased by what they saw. Such was the result of their obstinate determination to indulge the senses, all of which were evil; the eye being, beyond comparison, the most wicked. Hence, it was especially marked out for divine punishment; and, being constantly sinning, it was afflicted with fifty-two different diseases, that is, one disease for each week in the year.[559]
On this account, it was improper to care for beauty of any kind; or, to speak more accurately, there was no real beauty. The world afforded nothing worth looking at, save and except the Scotch Kirk, which was incomparably the most beautiful thing under heaven.[560] To look at that was a lawful enjoyment, but every other pleasure was sinful. To write poetry, for instance, was a grievous offence, and worthy of especial condemnation.[561] To listen to music was equally wrong; for men had no right to disport themselves in such idle recreation. Hence the clergy forbade music to be introduced even during the festivities of a marriage;[562] neither would they permit, on any occasion, the national entertainment of pipers.[563] Indeed, it was sinful to look at any exhibition in the streets, even though you only looked at it from your own window.[564] Dancing was so extremely sinful, that an edict, expressly prohibiting it, was enacted by the General Assembly, and read in every church in Edinburgh.[565] New Year's Eve had long been a period of rejoicing in Scotland, as in other parts of Europe. The Church laid her hands on this also, and ordered that no one should sing the songs usual on that day, or should admit such singers into his own private house.[566]
At the christening of a child, the Scotch were accustomed to assemble their relations, including their distant cousins, in whom, then as now, they much abounded. But this caused pleasure, and pleasure was sinful. It was, therefore, forbidden; the number of guests was limited; and the strictest supervision was exercised by the clergy, to prevent the possibility of any one being improperly happy on such occasions.[567]
Not only at baptisms, but also at marriages, the same spirit was displayed. In every country, it has been usual to make merry at marriages; partly from a natural feeling, and partly, perhaps, from a notion that a contract so often productive of misery, might, at all events, begin with mirth. The Scotch clergy, however, thought otherwise. At the weddings of the poor, they would allow no rejoicing;[568] and at the weddings of the rich, it was the custom for one of them to go for the express purpose of preventing an excess of gaiety. A better precaution could hardly be devised; but they did not trust exclusively to it. To check the lusts of the flesh, they, furthermore, took into account the cookery, the choice of the meats, and the number of the dishes. They were, in fact, so solicitous on these points, and so anxious that the nuptial feast should not be too attractive that they fixed its cost, and would not allow any person to exceed the sum which they thought proper to name.[569]