The “Circular to Parents and Guardians,” signed by the president, Mr. Edgar Ketchum, sets forth the objects of the institution and the manner in which it is conducted. “For your information,” says Mr. Ketchum to the parents and guardians, “the managers deem it proper to state that the institution is not a place of punishment nor a prison, but a reform school, where the inmates receive such instruction and training as are best adapted to form and perpetuate a virtuous character.” An excellent introduction! Nothing could be better calculated to allay any scruples that an anxious parent or guardian might entertain respecting the absolute surrender of a child or ward to the institution, “to remain during minority, or until discharged by the managers, as by due process of law.” Of course the Catholic parent or guardian who receives such a circular will have no question as to the “instruction and training best adapted to form and (above all) to perpetuate a virtuous character”! The training up of “a virtuous character” is, by all concession, mainly a purely religious work, and the Catholic knows, believes in, and recognizes only one true religion—that taught by the Catholic Church. Whether he is right or wrong in that belief is not the question. It is sufficient to know that the constitution recognizes and respects it.
A few lines lower the Catholic parent or guardian receives still more satisfactory information on this crucial point. After a glowing description of the life of the inmates, he is informed that they, “on the Sabbath, are furnished with suitable religious and moral instruction.” Just what is wanted by the child! “Sabbath,” it is true, has come to have a Protestant sound; but as for “suitable religious and moral instruction,” there can be no doubt that the only religious instruction suitable for a Catholic child is that of the Catholic religion, and such as would be given him outside in the Sunday-school by the Catholic priest or teacher. He is just as much a Catholic inside that institution as he was outside; and there is no more right in law or logic to force upon him a system of non-Catholic and anti-Catholic instruction within than without its walls. Let us see, then, of what this moral and religious instruction consists; if Catholic, all our difficulties are over.
Turning a few pages, we come to the “Report of the Chaplain.” The chaplain! The chaplain, then, is the gentleman charged with furnishing “on the Sabbath” the “suitable religious and moral instruction” of the Catholic child. The chaplain is the Rev. George H. Smyth, evidently a clergyman of some denomination. His name is not to be found in the Catholic directory. He is probably, then, not a Catholic priest. However, his report may enlighten us.
It occupies five and a half pages, and renders an admirable account of—the Rev. George H. Smyth, who, to judge of him by his own report, must be an exceedingly engaging person, and above all a powerful preacher. No doubt he is. He informs us that the children have shown, among other good qualities, “an earnest desire to receive instruction, both secular and religious.” That is cheering news. It is worthy of note, too, the distinction made between the secular and religious instruction of the children. That is just the Catholic ground. Children require both kinds of instruction—instruction in their religion, as well as in reading, writing, ciphering, and so on. The Catholic parent or guardian congratulates himself, then, on the fact that his child or ward will not be deprived of instruction in his religion while an inmate of the institution. All satisfactory so far; but let us read Mr. Smyth a little more.
“Often have the chaplain’s counsel and sympathy been sought by those striving to lead a better life.” Very natural! “And as often have they been cordially tendered.” Still more natural. Then follow some pleasing reminiscences from the boys and girls of the chaplain’s good offices. He even vouchsafes, almost unnecessarily, to inform us that “the children have it impressed on them that the object of the preaching they hear is wholly to benefit them.” It could not well be otherwise. And Mr. Smyth’s preaching evidently does benefit them, for one of the boys remarked to him, casually: “Chaplain, you remember that sermon you preached”—neither the sermon nor its text, unfortunately, is given—“that was the sermon that led me to the Saviour.” Happy lad! It is to be regretted that he ever came back. We are farther informed of “the close attention given by the children to the preaching of the Gospel Sabbath after Sabbath.” “On one occasion a distinguished military gentleman and statesman—an ambassador from one of the leading courts of Europe—was present. The sermon was from the text Cleanse thou me from secret faults.” So powerful was Mr. Smyth’s sermon on that occasion that the reverend gentleman graciously informs us it so moved the “distinguished military gentleman and statesman” from Europe that at the close he rose, and, “taking the chaplain by the hand, said with great warmth of feeling, ‘That sermon was so well suited to these children they must be better for it. I saw it made a deep impression upon them; but I rose to thank you for myself—it just suited me.’”
And there the story ends, leaving us in a painful state of conjecture respecting the state of that “distinguished military gentleman and statesman’s” conscience. These little incidents are thrown off with a naïve simplicity almost touching, and are noticed here as they are given, as establishing beyond all doubt the clear and marked distinction in nature and grace between the Rev. Mr. Smyth and the dreadful characters, whether ambassadors or youthful pickpockets, with whom Mr. Smyth is brought in contact. But the main question for the Catholic parent or guardian is, What religious and moral instruction is my child to receive? For it is clear that Mr. Smyth is not a Catholic clergyman. It seems that Mr. Smyth being “the chaplain,” there is no Catholic chaplain at all, and no Catholic instruction at all for Catholic children. Are the Catholic children compelled, then, to attend Mr. Smyth’s preaching and Mr. Smyth’s worship, and nothing but Mr. Smyth, excellent man though he be? Mr. Ketchum has already, in the name of the managers, informed us that the institution is not “a place of punishment.” Far be it from us to hint, however remotely, that it is a punishment even to be compelled to listen to the preaching of such a man as Mr. Smyth. With the evidence before us, how could such a thought be entertained for a moment? But at least how is this state of things reconcilable with that solemn article of the constitution already quoted so often?
However, let us first dismiss Mr. Smyth, after ascertaining, if possible, what it is he does teach. Here we have it in his own words: “The truths preached to these children [all the inmates of the institution] have been those fundamental truths held in common by all Christian communions, and which are adapted to the wants of the human race, and must ever be the foundation of pure morals and good citizenship. Studious care has been taken not to prejudice the minds of the inmates against any particular form of religious belief.”
Here lies the essence of what we have called the “Church Established in Public Institutions.” The favorite term for it is “non-sectarian” teaching; and on the ground that it is “non-sectarian,” that it favors no particular church or creed, but is equally available to all, it has thus far been upheld and maintained in our public institutions. It is well to expose the cant and humbug of this non-sectarianism once for all.
In the first place, no such thing exists. Let us adhere to the case in point. Mr. Smyth, who is styled “reverend,” is the chaplain of the society we are examining. What is the meaning of the word chaplain? A clergyman appointed to perform certain clerical duties. Mr. Smyth is a clergyman of some denomination or other, we care not what. He is not a self-appointed “reverend.” He must have been brought up in some denomination and educated in some theological school. There is no such thing as a “reverend” of no church, of a non-sectarian church. Every clergyman has been educated in some theological school, or at least according to some special form of doctrine and belief, and has entered the ministry as a teacher and preacher of that special form of belief and doctrine. If he leaves it, he leaves it either for infidelity—in which case he renounces his title as a clergyman—or for some other form of doctrine and belief to which he turns, and of which, so long as he remains in the ministry, he is the teacher, propagator, and upholder. If he is not this, he is a humbug. To say that he is or can be non-sectarian—that is, pledged to preach no particular form of doctrine, or a form of doctrine equally available for all kinds of believers or non-believers—is to talk the sheerest nonsense. In all cases a clergyman is, by virtue of his office and profession and belief, pledged to some form of doctrine and faith, which unless he teaches, he is either a coward or a humbug. Anything resembling a “non-sectarian” clergyman would be exactly like a soldier who bound himself by oath to a certain government, yet held himself free not to defend that government, or, when he saw it attacked, to be particularly careful not to do anything that might possibly offend or oppose the foe. The world and his own government would stamp such a man as the vilest of beings—a traitor. The union of such diametrically opposite professions is a sheer impossibility.
Let us test the doctrine Mr. Smyth himself lays down here, or which the managers of the institution have laid down for him, and show how sectarianism, which is the one thing to be avoided, or, to use a kinder term, denominationalism, must inevitably meet the teacher or preacher at every turn. “The truths preached to these children have been those fundamental truths held in common by all Christian communions.” Mr. Smyth has told us already that “the chaplain’s counsel and sympathy are sought by those striving to lead a better life, and with good results.” There must, then, be questioning on the part of the children. Indeed, how could instruction possibly go on without question, explanation, objection, and answer? Let us begin, then, with the very foundation of his doctrine. The first question that would occur to any one would be, What are “those fundamental truths held in common by all Christian communions”? Mr. Smyth does not mention one. Where shall we find one? A fundamental truth held in common by all Christian communions might at least be supposed to be a belief in Christ. Very well. Then who is Christ? Where is Christ? Is Christ God or man, or both? How do we come to know him? Is Christ not God, is he not man? What is his history? Where is it found? In the Bible? What is the Bible? Who wrote the Bible? Why must we accept it as the Word of God? Is it the Word of God? Why “all Christian communions” are at war right on this “fundamental truth,” from which they derive their very name of Christian, and not a single question can be put or answered without introducing denominationalism of some kind or another, and so at least prejudicing the minds of the inmates against some particular form of religious belief.