In religion the laws of supply and demand have only exceptional sway, for each individual priest or minister may, according as he pleases, elect to provide for known desires, or to inaugurate a new set of requirements. But whether he does one or the other he is clearly an opponent to, and frequently disliked by, any one who refuses all manner of traffic in spiritual affairs. He is then practically in the same condition as the English government was in when the Chinamen refused to take the opium which they had been receiving for many years before; and, like it, he must endeavour to enforce his wishes by war. But the parson does not fight with cannon and gunpowder, for he assumes the power to wield weapons of far greater importance—viz., the power to torture after death all his adversaries. "Believe me," run his words, "and you shall be saved from hell fire; reject my message, and you shall be burned in everlasting flames!"
When belligerent kings go to battle, they do not go alone and fight single-handed for their cause; on the contrary, they enlist upon their side every man whom they can influence or compel; nor do they care, so long as the troops obey orders, what their private thoughts are; probably few Chinese who fought the British were not opium consumers, and few English cared for the drug at all. In like manner, when priests differ among themselves, they do not meet in wordy tournaments, but they enlist on their respective sides everybody whom similarity in superstition, interest, or any other motive induces to join their standard. When an issue is joined, the result is governed by force of arms, arts, or numbers, as the case maybe.
Thus, in the last resort, the correctness of a doctrine is, as we have frequently remarked in previous pages, proved by thews and sinews—not by brains. So long as the Pagans were numerically superior to Christians, the latter were heretics and victims; but when the disciples of Jesus were actually the strongest, they became suddenly "the orthodox," and the poor Pagans "the damned." In later times Protestantism asserted its faith by the prowess of Cromwell's "ironsides" in England and Ireland; in like manner the Covenanters of Scotland proved, by the might of their swords, Presbyterianism to be superior to Episcopal government. By dint of Saxon might, Ireland was long politically at one with Great Britain; now by her numbers she is allied to the Vatican.
The well-read politician will see that a contest similar to those thus indicated is going on almost all over Europe. In Great Britain and Ireland, in France, Prussia, Austria, and Italy—even in the once bigoted Spain, priestly parties are striving for supremacy over the party of rational order and philosophical government. The question at issue is by no means doubtful—it is one which has been agitated for thousands of years, but that has never assumed large proportions in consequence of general ignorance and consequent apathy. In England, France, and Germany, innumerable champions on the one side have risen, fought, and died, overpowered by the numbers-ranged against them; but, as persecution is said to be the seed of orthodoxy, so these men and their writings have, by dissemination through the press, and the effect of increased education in the languages of Europe, gradually raised so large a party, as to be able to contend with some chances of success.
It will be seen that the question to which I refer is this—"Shall men and states be governed by faith?" in other words, "by the hierarchy of the most numerous section of the community—or by reason—i.e., by the good sense of the majority?" In Austria and in Italy this issue has clearly been tried, and in both instances the priesthood has been obliged to accept a secondary position. In Prussia the same momentous point is being tried with every chance of the sacerdotal party being worsted. In the British kingdom religion has long been regarded as subordinate to state policy; nevertheless there is yet a strong party who desires to reduce her inhabitants to clerical bondage. If all the individuals composing this section of the community were united, they would prevail by their numbers; but, as the aggressive army is composed of troops who bear an almost deadly hate against each other, small danger is to be anticipated from them. The Ritualist and Roman Catholic might unite together; but these would not stand shoulder to shoulder with the Wesleyan, Baptist, and Low Churchman. Although all equally detest those who say "parsons are not wanted," sects will not ally themselves, lest, if every one were to be compelled to select a form of faith, the compulsory decree might augment the numbers following some adversary.
We have thus placed before our readers what we believe is the first article which has to be considered in Reconstruction. We have to ask ourselves whether we should enlist ourselves under the banner of faith, and endeavour to add one form of religion to those already existing; or, whether we should join the banner of reason, and repudiate all doctrines, dogmas, credences, and the like, which are offensive to common sense. We may fairly parody the words of the mythical Elisha, and say to ourselves—"Choose ye this day whom ye will serve; if faith suits your indolence, then hug your chains; if you prefer reason, gird up the loins of your mind, and metaphorically kill the priests of Rite."
Ere, however, we can reasonably expect those who have hitherto been inconsiderate to make their selection of standard bearers, it is desirable to say something of the two. In limine we must observe that we do not believe that the choice will be determined by the head alone, for there are many whose arms are, so to speak, paralyzed by a constitutional peculiarity. A hero in his study has often proved a poltroon in the field of battle. I may point the moral by quoting from memory a story in Addison's Spectator—"A B is a hen-pecked husband; he knows it, and bewails his thraldom; he consults C D, who sympathises with his case, increases his detestation for the home tyranny, and tells him how to break the chains. A B, full of resolution, tries the plan recommended, but breaks down at once." The moral is, that those who are born to serve, or are too weak-minded to assert their independence, had better submit to be ruled—even if the tyrant be a woman, than try to gain peace by conflict. Into this story I fully enter, for I know, from experience, how much "nerve" is required for any one to change his or her relative position. The moral courage of which I speak, is one that dominates over constitutional shyness and fear; it differs from the boldness of a soldier, and the dash of the beast of prey; it is not a simple mental assent; but it is a motive which, after being once placed, becomes a mainspring of life. To adopt Faith as a guide, is to go through life easily—so long as "thought" can be sent to sleep. To adopt Reason, is to prevent thought ever slumbering, and to live the happier the more steadily that the mind is watchful In few words, Faith is "a quack doctor," Reason "a physician." The first will always have the most admirers.
Without further preface, let us inquire "what Faith really is?" This is a question with which I have been familiar since my childhood, and the answer offered to me for adoption was—"It is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen" (Heb. xi. 1). This reply has never suggested any distinct idea to me, and I am confident that the author of "Hebrews" had not a definite meaning in his own mind when he wrote the words. The context shows that the word [—Greek—] is used to signify distinct states of mind, and one example, which is given frequently, indicates a different signification from another that precedes or follows. For example, in v. 5 we are told that Enoch was translated by "faith;" but the only evidence for this is, that "he pleased God;" whereas, in verse 11, we are told that Sarah, who laughed at the idea of having offspring, and disbelieved the promise which said that she should have a son, conceived "through faith." Still further, the false history of the chapter disgusted me—e.g., we read in w. 24, 25, 27, that Moses by faith elected to bear affliction with the people of God, and from the same cause forsook Egypt, not fearing the wrath of the king, &c.—both of which statements are untrue, for he ran away both from the afflictions of the Hebrews and the wrath of the monarch, and required "pressing" before he would leave his retreat in Midian. I regard the chapter thus referred to as one of the great stumbling blocks of Christianity. Its logic is contemptible; yet it must pass for truth, because Paul is thought to have written it. Being now thrown back upon our own resources for a definition of "faith," we affirm that it signifies "uncompromising belief in what one is told." Every religious book which occupies itself with this subject illustrates the word in question by affirming that it resembles the motive which actuates a child who, at a father's bidding; leaps from a height upon the promise that papa will catch him in his arms.
Though, as a rule, I am disinclined to use adjectives, I have added the word in italics, because it is a material part of the definition, and involves more than at first sight appears. Peter tried to walk upon the water—he doubted, and began to sink. He has been imitated by others; they have all failed. "Doctor," a man may say, "can I swallow this without being choked?" "Yes, if you think you can." He tries to swallow the morsel, and is choked. The result in every case is attributed to a want of faith. In other words, hesitation cannot effect what confidence can. Consequently we are justified in asserting that faith and doubt are absolutely incompatible. Faith implies an absolute and perfect confidence. This faith may be compulsory—as when a shipmaster is obliged by local law to give up the management of his ship to a pilot; or it may be spontaneous, as when a patient trusts himself to a surgeon. For a man only to give a half confidence, is to cripple to that extent the capacity of the one who is responsible.
Religious faith, then, involves the necessity of an absolute and blind confidence in the priestly pilot selected as a conductor through life to eternity; it precludes inquiry, discourages thought upon the most important matter which every man has to consider, and makes of a rational being an intellectual slave. In few words, it reduces its votary to the position of a tool, and renders him, so far as religion is concerned, mentally blind.