As far as the common run of religionists are concerned, they are all in this "fool's paradise;" they fancy that they are secure, invincible, and mighty, because they take their own prowess and their opponents weakness as matters of faith. But when one of these comes into collision with another whose reason is exercised upon facts and the deductions to be drawn from them, the questions occur, possibly for the first time, Are the grounds of my belief tenable? am I justified in using my reason only in one direction? if I profess to argue, am I not bound to be logical? and if what has been given to me as sound meat, is rotten in reality, am I bound to eat it? can it do me good in any way? When a thoughtful man has arrived at this point, he has to elect between Faith and Reason. Then, if, like Mr Gladstone, he foresees to what his inquiries will probably lead, and is disinclined to pull down a cherished edifice, even to erect a better, he will naturally cling to the old belief, saying—"With all thy faults, I love thee still." With his eyes wide open he hails the banner of bigotry, no matter what may be the scutcheon which it bears.
Then come the important questions—"What right has any religious bigot to profess himself a liberal?" and, "With what face can a man, who refuses to exercise his understanding upon what he calls the most important part of life, i.e., the preparation for eternity, proclaim himself a friend of education?"
To insist upon the value of "learning" in forming the mind, and then to set the example of recoiling from the knowledge which intellectual efforts bring, is, in a statesman, a mean vacillation. Mr Gladstone ought either to proclaim that his ideas are those of the Jesuits, or to pronounce in favour of education, to whatever goal it legitimately tends. To say to boys—or men—you must learn to think; but you must only come to the same conclusions as myself, would disgrace a statesman of a free country, though such a proclamation would seem natural to a pope, or any other tyrant I do not, for a moment, assert that the then Premier of England did, in a written, and, therefore, a deliberate speech, to a large and influential school of boys, utter the words which I have used; on the contrary, he employed his rhetorical powers to express the idea, without either clearly understanding it himself, or giving the lads a clue to it. Had the meaning of the discourse been put into a few pregnant sentences, it may be doubted whether it would ever have been uttered.
If Mr Gladstone, like the mythical Elijah, had placed before his auditors, in naked words, the proposition—"Choose ye this day whom ye will serve, Faith or Reason," his discourse would have been clear. Even his own mind could not have painted the two as being the same thing; nor would a school-boy have failed to see that, in the future, he must elect between indefinitely expanding his intelligence, and materially contracting his intellect to the narrow limits prescribed by the faith of his parents.
To my mind it is sad to witness men of great general capacity, like the late Dr Faraday, and the past Prime Minister of Great Britain, shunning, in every way, an inquiry into the basis of their belief. We cannot regard this as a result of simple intellectual indolence, or ignorance. The only cause to which we can attribute it, is that weakness which, by most people, is called moral cowardice; a fear, not so much of Mrs Grundy—the world and its dread laugh—but the fear of some unseen, unknown, incomprehensible danger to themselves—of dangers that have no reality, except in an imagination which has been moulded long before the mind was capable of thought, but whose hold upon the individual is such, that he shrinks from the mental effort necessary to efface its impressions.
There is yet another phase of faith, which deserves a passing mention. It is that which declines to see or to hear a proof or an argument, lest it should be convinced against its will. There are many men amongst us who, in Scripture phrase, refuse to hear the voice of the charmer, charm he never so wisely. This obstinacy, stupidity, dogged-ness, or firmness, is quite compatible with a partially cultivated intellect, and is in itself a measure of intellectual capacity. I have heard, for example, a learned divine, but one whose writings are often so bemuddled, that the ideas which they contain are as difficult to discover "as a needle in a bottle of hay," declare that he would no more listen to an argument against the existence of "the trinity," than he would open his ears to hear evidence that his wife or mother was adulterous.
Such strong asseverations we may sympathize with, and even admire; but they prove nothing beyond the impracticability of an individual mind, or what, in some cases, takes its place—viz., the injudiciousness of acknowledging a truth, when the enunciation of a belief in it would be followed by unpleasant consequences.
Again, I know of another divine, who has steadily refused to inquire into the value of what are called "the Christian evidences," his reason being, that he is conscious that inquiry would shake his confidence in the doctrines which he teaches. He clings to what he feels to be a sham, lest others should, by his means, regard it in its proper light.
Another divine, who has not feared to be an inquirer, is incessantly persecuted by his brethren, not because he has asserted his intellectual freedom, but because, by having done so, he has, by implication, cast a sort of odium upon those who hug their mental darkness. His argument is—Can a man who hates the light be worthy to speak of the "Sun of Righteousness?" Their reasoning is based upon the assertion, that those who live in darkness, and like it, need not be told about a luminary. If people chose to believe that the moon is made of green cheese, it is more profitable to talk to them about its connection with the milky way, than to say that the notion is absurd. Faith teaches that, where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise; whilst reason only impels one to habitual thought or mental worry.
Other divines of my acquaintance have used their reason in a twofold way: they have ceased to hold their first faith, yet they hold their "livings," as they have no other means of subsistence; whilst a few have, with their advancement in knowledge, paid for their knowledge by embracing poverty.