Recollections and Impressions, 1822-1890

by Octavius Brooks Frothingham

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.