And such, it may be confidently predicted, will be the end of all Mr. Owen’s visions of paradise, if he should ever be able to do more than draw them on paper, and exhibit them to the imagination; or present them in his pictures, as is customarily done, to the enchanted eyes of his followers. But who can think without sorrow of the evils which result from his principles? and they do produce innumerable evils! Who can contemplate so many immortal creatures, fitted for the highest and the noblest purposes, debasing themselves to a level with the brutes, and making pleasure and sensual gratification the sole end of their being; nay, even stooping to be regarded as mere machines, in order that they may escape from the trammels which they feel that a sense of accountability throws around them! Above all, who can behold unmoved the disregard, and even contempt, with which these persons treat the soul, that immortal principle, which stamps upon man his dignity, which raises him above the brutes, and allies him to the inhabitants of the celestial world, which is the seat of happiness; for the redemption of whom the Son of God became flesh, and expired on Calvary, and for whom, when sanctified, there are mansions of glory provided in heaven? How can men trifle with this precious jewel, and account it of no value, saying, “Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die?” Is it not enough to affect the heart, to draw forth floods of grief, and make us exclaim, “Oh that they knew, even they, in this their day, the things which belong to their peace!” and to add, “Oh that they were wise, that they understood this, that they would consider their latter end!” Happy, unspeakably happy should I be, if I might be the means of rescuing and saving any that have been deluded into these errors, from their perilous situation, and their still greater and more awful doom, if they continue in them; nor shall I account it a less privilege to be the humble instrument of preventing any, that are in danger, from falling into these snares. A desire to do good, and, if possible, saving good, to my fellow creatures, is my sole object in taking my pen, and meddling with the subject. Christianity, like an impregnable fortress, has often been assailed; men of gigantic minds have directed their weapons against her, but she has outlived every storm, has hitherto vanquished even her mightiest foes. I think, therefore, her friends need be under no alarm on account of the efforts of Robert Owen to assail or destroy her.
I am, however, departing from my purpose; my object, on the present occasion, not being to defend Christianity, but simply to examine Socialism, and to inquire how far the principles of the New Moral World are calculated to effect the object for which they are propagated. I think I have shown that in themselves they want consistency, they are either absurd, or they lead to absurdity, they destroy the sense of the being of a God, and, as the necessary consequence, debase the character of man, making him only a living machine. If the foundation on which they rest were true, they are not necessary, and their consequences are most pernicious: and here I think I might stop, and leave the truth to make its own way; and here I should stop, were it not that by so doing, I should be acting a very unjust and unfaithful part towards the cause of Christ.
Then, I do say from conviction, and to use Mr. Owen’s words, “a conviction, as strong as conviction can exist in the human mind;” and not only from conviction, but also an experience, in some humble degree, of the things which I profess to teach to others, that Christianity, not only promises, but actually does, for those who believe it, what Socialism promises, but cannot perform.
Mr. Owen pictures before his followers an earthly paradise. He promises them, when his establishment shall be commenced, sights to please the eye, and sounds to enrapture the ear, more than the imagination can now conceive. He tells them that, what with the pleasures of the table, the recreations of music and dancing, and the enjoyments resulting from philosophical and political discussions, and such like things, they shall have a happiness unbroken and complete. But even in his paradise there must be labour, and as each member must necessarily take his or her proportion of the labour, will he, for the future, ensure all that enter against such an unpleasant, and such a mortifying occurrence as took place with the young and handsome woman, who, when she was singing and playing admirably on the pianoforte, was told that milking of cows was her duty! If not, what is the happiness of his paradise worth? “Like the apples of Sodom,” beautiful to the eye, but ashes within. The body may indeed be regaled, but there is no lasting, no solid joy for the mind. And this Mr. Owen’s followers already have found. I appeal to themselves for the truth of what I say; and I have the means of knowing that they will support the truth of my statement. They have not found perfect happiness yet, whatever they may do when they get within the walls of his promised paradise. But if this be the case in health, in vigour of life, and when surrounded by every thing calculated to impart pleasure, what, I ask, will be the state of things when sickness invades the frame, when disease and old age enfeeble and destroy the body, and when death comes and cuts it down? Is there, or has he made, any provision against these evils, or will they change or lose their nature within the walls of this promised paradise? Ah! if his followers could have assurance of that, then, indeed, there might be some faint prospect of being happy—but he cannot; and they feel he cannot; there is, therefore, and there must always be, a worm at the root of their gourd, and poison at the bottom of their cup of pleasure.
And what is there beyond the grave? Yes, I ask, what is there beyond the grave? “Oh that grave!” is the feeling cry of each of their minds: “if it were not for the grave, we should not mind, we should do very well;” but there is the grave; and again I ask, What is there beyond it? Oh! if any of those that have imbibed these principles should cast their eye on this page, I beseech them, by the worth of their souls, by the terrors of the Lord, by the solemnities of the judgment day, and by the miseries, the eternal miseries of hell to think of their state, and immediately to flee from the wrath to come. And let me tell them, for we have no delight in thundering out these awful realities, on the contrary, we rejoice to tell them, that if they repent, even for them, there is salvation, and eternal life through the blood of the Lamb. Oh then, we beseech them by the mercies of God, we beseech them by the dying love of Christ, as though God did beseech them by us, we pray them in Christ’s stead, “Be ye reconciled to God.”
But what a contrast the Christian presents, to even the best and the happiest follower of Robert Owen, or even Robert Owen himself! It is true that he may not be rolling in wealth, nor surrounded by luxuries; his circumstances may be humble, and his situation may be poor; but he is happy, unspeakably happy! He has peace within, a peace which is not adventitious, which is not the result of circumstances, and will not change with them; it is “peace of conscience,” and “peace with God;” that “peace which passeth all understanding,” and which is full of glory: it is a peace which “the world cannot give, and which the world cannot take away.” It supports the mind in sickness, it cheers and comforts it in poverty and affliction, it smooths the pillow of death, it illumines and sheds a glorious radiance over the dark passage to the grave, and beyond the tomb it is converted into the fulness of joy, and pleasures for evermore. Nor am I drawing an imaginary picture; I could refer to hundreds and thousands who will confirm the descriptions, as far as their present experience goes; and for the truth of the statement in reference to death, what multitudes of death-bed scenes have there been which have compelled even unbelievers to exclaim, “Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his!”
Mr. Owen’s principles have not in a single instance changed, so as radically to benefit any individual of the human race; they cannot exalt the moral character. Christianity has her thousands of trophies of her purity and her power. They are to be found in every age, and exist in every part of the world. Mr. Owen’s principles never yet made a single truly happy man: Christianity furnishes them daily. Mr. Owen’s principles are silent about a hereafter, and make no provision for the world to come: Christianity brings life and immortality to light by the gospel, takes away the sting of death, triumphs over the grave, and opens before its followers a bright and a glorious immortality. Mr. Owen’s principles, independent of their absurdity and atheism, have nothing to recommend them but his unsupported testimony: Christianity is confirmed and established by the united testimony of prophets, and apostles, and evangelists; of martyrs, confessors, and enemies; of miracles, prophecies, and history; of its own doctrines, and precepts, and triumphs—that it is the word of God! Then we say, If Mr. Owen be what he pretends, the only teacher that has yet risen to enlighten and to bless the world, and if his principles, as developed in the “Book of the New Moral World,” be the eternal laws of nature, then follow him: but, if the Lord be God, and Christianity be Divine, then follow them.
APPENDIX.
Since writing the preceding pages, I have had an opportunity of both seeing and hearing of the effects of the system, the principles of which I have endeavoured to expose: and as the fruits of a tree are not only of great service in determining the character of the tree which bears them, but are the best test by which that character may be known, it may be of use to the cause of truth, and may tend more effectually than any other means, to explain and expose what Robert Owen’s Socialism is, to state the fruits which it has already produced.
An intimate friend of mine, resident in a large manufacturing district, in whose neighbourhood socialists abound, and where they have had an opportunity, to a very considerable extent, of developing their system, writes me word: “Persons in whose neighbourhood their meetings are held, speak of their proceedings as most riotous and disorderly. Young men and young women assemble in the room, and around it, in great numbers, and the most demoralizing scenes occur. Twice in the week they meet for dancing, etc. in the room where their preachings are held.”