We recognize the accuracy of our deductions when we find that the aim of the Roman church has been to reduce men to the condition here described, and then to use them as carpenters do planes, chisels, and axes. It is probable that there never existed in the world an order of men who have so completely reduced themselves, and voluntarily too, it must be borne in mind, to the position of a machine, as the Jesuits have done. They are an instrument in the hands of their superiors, and they blindly obey. Whether the order exists for good or harm, it is not my purpose to discuss.
Next in order to the society of Jesus comes the gigantic society known as the Papacy, or Roman Catholicism. I place this as second to Jesuitry, because, for a long period, there was a certain freedom of opinion allowed to the superior clergy. But now, when it has become a tenet of the church of Rome, that its head is absolutely infallible in all matters of dogma and doctrine, it is probable that the demand of faith from the laity may equal, if not exceed, that made upon professed Jesuits.
In religion, the only place in which uncompromising faith finds its home, is the Papal. That demands unlimited belief in everything ecclesiastically promulgated, hatred of everything dogmatically condemned, and acquiescence in every sacerdotal command. Amongst that sect, doubting is an offence, and opposition is a crime.
We have seen this illustrated in the person of the learned Bishop Döllinger, who has been excommunicated simply because he refused to accept the new fangled notions of an almost effete old pope. He cannot see anything in a modern council to supersede apostolic traditions; he doubts; therefore the Papalists do everything in their power to damn him. In like manner, although prior in time to the declaration of the Pope's infallibility, we have seen the present king of Italy excommunicated; because he, as the head of his own dominions, ordered a decree to be carried into effect which, whilst it was good for the people generally, was regarded as hostile to the church.
The observer need not, however, go far from home in search of illustrations, for every year sees one or another Protestant minister leaving the Anglican for the Roman communion, on the sole ground that in the latter there is no room for doctrinal doubts and contests. To the laity, the very repose of the religious mind is held out as a bait by Papal missionaries, and it is probably one of the most successful which "the fishers of men" employ. I once heard a brother physician express his opinion on this point. Conversation had turned upon a confrère who had been in religious matters "everything by turns, and nothing long." "Ah," said the Romanist, "he'll be tired of roaming some day, and find repose at last in the bosom of the church; his soul will then be at rest, and will wander no more."
The possibility of Protestants entertaining a doubt upon the power of "the Church" to demand unlimited belief and obedience from the faithful, is a sore thorn in the side of many dignitaries of the national creed. As this propensity to inquiry is an essential part of the legacy bequeathed to Englishmen by the reformation, this last movement has been execrated by some of our High Churchmen. It is asserted, that, as the taking of the Bible for the sole rule of faith has been followed by a great splitting up of the so-called "Church of Christ," so it is advisable to change the standard, and to adopt that of "Ecclesiastics" personally or collectively. In any case, such advocates desire to re-establish the reign of faith. What the Reign of Faith has been in Europe, it would be idle to describe.
As soon as the mind of an individual revolts from giving implicit faith to any creed, doctrine, or dogma, he must be regarded as a mariner who, being not quite contented with his own country, endeavours to find a better. In his voyage he first leaves the shore as a fledgling does the nest—he goes a short excursion, and returns; after a time he becomes more brave, and puts off more boldly. At first he probably finds a number of other barques as venturous as his own, and he becomes emboldened; it may be his arms are strong, his head clear, and his boat good; and he steers into the offing. No sooner does he leave the herd, however, than he is chased, and if he refuses to put back, curses follow him; and the friends whom once he had are condoled with. Such is the position of a Protestant who departs seriously from the religion of the majority. With or amongst the Romanists to leave the shore is an act of disbelief which must be atoned for by penance or punishment.
It is clear that every such individual who, like a chick, leaves the shelter of the maternal wings, must be more or less at sea. He or she may have no idea of going very far, yet may be compelled to sail on until he has reached the other side of Doubting Straits, and has landed in the realm of Reason. We can well conceive the waters to be covered by small "craft," which keep together for company's sake, or who boldly sail out and solicit followers—some cluster, it may be, round a stately galleon, others sail with a dashing cruiser, some come into collision or hostile contact with their neighbours, and try to damage each others' barques. But all are at sea—driven hither and thither by breezes which spring up, no one knows how, and drop down again as swiftly as they rose. The mariners, however, seem to enjoy the excitement, and refuse to return to their own land.
The individuals whom we here describe are the ordinary Protestant sects (not including the Unitarians, who have long reached a comparatively stable ground). These, by whatever name they are called, refuse to give implicit faith to the Pope; they will, however, accord, in some degree, to some pet parson, the management of their conscience; they dread what is called "free-thinking," as a mariner does a lee shore. They put up with every accident which arises from mingling faith with reason, and are, on the whole, contented, as long as too much pressure is not put upon them, to steer in a definite direction. Of these it may be said, "Thou art neither cold nor hot; I would thou wert cold or hot. So then, because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out. of my mouth" (Rev. iii. 15,16). The endeavour to make reason subservient to faith, must ever be a failure as complete as would be the endeavour to weld iron with water, or to heat an anchor shaft by surrounding it with cold coals and wood, then blowing a blast of air upon the whole. He who is determined to use reason, must drop faith; and he who clings to faith, must drop reason. The conclusions drawn by all who attempt the combination will always be lame and impotent.
If, in the stead of faith, an individual takes reason for his guide through this world to the next, he incurs the wrath and malignancy of the many, and the respect of the few. He comes in for far harder names than Pagans gave to Christians, and Papalists gave to Huguenots. If, unfortunately, he should live in a country where priests rule, he may be burned, as Savonarola was at Florence, Latimer and Ridley at Oxford, and Servetus at Geneva. Luther was said to be a devil—a so-called Atheist is believed to be something worse.