We grant this readily, but we add the proviso, that we only allow ourselves to be deceived by our own friends. It would be, to all of us, a frightful infliction if our sons or daughters were to tell us that we were under strong delusions, and believing in lies. Consequently, everyone desires that his family shall have a similar faith with his own.
At the present time, however, more conspicuously than at any other since printing was invented, there is, in society, a vast number of men who believe, from their critical inquiries, that all religionists trust in lying vanities which do not profit. These individuals have become sceptics, in consequence of education having led them to think for themselves. Being opposed to all, they are friendly with none; and although they are not aggressive, as a rule, they are vigorously attacked by every sect which steadily refuses to come to the light.
Under these circumstances every hierarch argues: "The education which frees the mind from all the shackles of superstition is prejudicial to us, who earn our living hy making fetters, fixing them, and relaxing them when duly paid to do so. A sound teaching—a style of instruction that will induce the rising generation to examine into our pretensions will cut the ground from under our feet. We must, therefore, endeavour to limit, in some considerable degree, our tuition." Like the Jesuits in Austria and of to-day, they will cram the memory, but not exercise the understanding; they will crowd the mind with lying statements, and prohibit all inquiry. Sectarians, therefore, as a rule, object to education, unless it has a religious element in it. They agree in this point, but differ as to the style of faith which is to be taught Hence all the difference of opinion, for as the sectarians cannot decide upon what faith is to be taught, they object to all instruction whatever. Are they honest?
If, instead of nursing a private idea, each legislator were boldly to say what he desired to obtain and to avoid, there might be some chance of united action. But when all pretend to work in common, yet not one is absolutely in earnest, and all, more or less, play at "make believe," no valuable end will be obtained.
One politician, whose memory is tenacious, and his temerity great, cannot bear the idea that the British mind should approximate to that of the Germans; and, whilst he eulogizes education, he denounces Strauss. Not because the latter is not a man of profound learning, but because the cultivation of his intellect has led him to certain conclusions which are distasteful to an English politician. This is not honesty.
Again, our bishops and the priesthood generally say, "Education is a desirable thing; it is wrong for man, who has a soul to be saved, not to seek out the way of salvation." But if, in the course of inquiry, a scholar imagines that their way is incorrect, he is anathematized, and his fellows are instructed to believe that no one can find comfort for the soul except in the way patronized by the Church. This, again, is not honest. But—and the word is of mighty import—if, instead of saying this distinctly, a few individuals of high standing in the Protestant community deliberately, and with the intention to deceive—or to retain people in the bonds which astute predecessors have thrown around the laity, state, as their belief, that which their critical knowledge tells them is untrue, or withhold knowledge of importance, because they deem its publication detrimental to ecclesiastical institutions, they are not simply dishonest—they are culpable, and guilty of spiritual murder.
My meaning may be illustrated by one or two pertinent anecdotes: The captain of a man-of-war was doubtful of the existence of a rock laid down upon a chart. One day at dinner he announced to his company the disbelief which he had, adding, that if the spot were truly described, the ship would strike directly. It did so, and few survivors were left to tell the tale. The commander judiciously elected to perish with his vessel. Had he told his officers, and the distinguished passengers whom he was carrying, what he was doing, it is certain that the danger would have been avoided.
Another ship captain was addressed by a civilian who was on board, and told that a hurricane was approaching, which might be avoided by steering in a certain direction; but, metaphorically speaking, the bishop would not listen to the layman. The typhoon came, the vessel was partially dismasted; then the passenger was consulted, and by his aid the ship got out of the danger.
The civilian was well read, not in ancient books, but in modern science; the master mariner knew only his log-book, compass, and "the rule of thumb."
A person who loses his ship because he is too stupid to believe a chart, or the rules of a science, which every scholar may test, deserves the name of an imbecile, and our Board of Trade would deprive him of the power to do any more mischief as a captain; but bishops and priests may pilot their vessel wrongly, for none have any jurisdiction over them, provided always that they steer in the old channels. It matters not how far the way may be shifted, all is supposed to be right, if the old landmarks are still used.