Modern Skepticism: A Journey Through the Land of Doubt and Back Again Part 13

Two of my Quaker friends, who had aided me in my peace lectures, waited upon me and said, that it would be necessary for me, if I meant to continue to lecture in connection with the Peace Society, not to allow myself to be known as holding heterodox views. I answered that I would not submit to one hair's breadth of restraint, nor to a feather's weight of pressure; and the consequence was, the withdrawal of all a.s.sistance and countenance from the orthodox portion of the Quakers in every part of the country.

The Unitarians had long been observing our movements, and when they found us coming so near to their views, they began to attend our meetings, and to court our company. At first we were very uneasy at their advances, and shrank from them with real horror; but our dislike and dread of them gradually gave way. They were very kind. They lent us books, and a.s.sisted us with the loan of schools and chapels. They showed themselves gracious in many ways. And after the cruelty we had experienced from other parties, their kindness and sympathy proved very agreeable. I read their works with great eagerness, and was often delighted to find in them so many sentiments so like my own. I had read some of Channing's works before, and now I read them all, and many of them with the greatest delight. I read the work of Worcester on the Atonement, of Norton on the Trinity, and of Ware on a variety of subjects. I also read several of the works of Carpenter, Belsham, Priestley, and Martineau. Some of those works I published. I also published a work by W. Penn, "The Sandy Foundation Shaken," which some thought Unitarian. I came at length to be regarded by the Unitarians as one of their party. They invited me to preach in their chapels, and aided me in the circulation of some of my publications. I preached for them in various parts of the country. I was invited to visit the Unitarians in London, and I preached in most of their chapels there, and was welcomed by many of the ministers and leading laymen of the Metropolis at a public meeting. When my friends raised a fund to purchase me a steam printing press, many Unitarians gave liberal subscriptions. Several of their leading men attended the meeting at which the press was presented, and took a leading part in the proceedings.

I had not mingled long with the Unitarians before I found that they differed from one another very much in their views. Some few were Arian, some were Socinian, and some quite Lat.i.tudinarian. Some admired Priestley, some Carpenter, some Channing, and some Parker. Some looked on Channing as an old fogy, and said there was not an advanced or progressive idea in his writings; while others thought that everything beyond Channing bordered on the regions of darkness and death. Some looked on the Scriptures as of divine authority, and declared their readiness to believe whatever they could be proved to teach: others regarded the Scriptures as of no authority whatever, and declared their determination to accept no views but such as could be proved to be true independent of the Bible. Some believed Jesus to be a supernatural person, commissioned by G.o.d to give a supernatural revelation of truth and duty, and empowered to prove the divinity of His mission and doctrine by supernatural works. Others looked on Christ as the natural result of the moral development of our race, like Bacon, Shakespeare, or Baxter. They looked on miracles as impossible, and regarded all the Bible accounts of supernatural events as fables. They were Deists. One I found who declared his disbelief in a future life. There was a gradual incline from the almost Christian doctrine of Carpenter and Channing, down to the principles of Deism and Atheism.

While in London I became acquainted with Dr. Bowring, afterwards Sir John Bowring. He was one of my hearers at Stamford Street Chapel, and complimented me, after the sermon, by calling me the modern John Bunyan.

He had been pleased with the simplicity of my style, and the familiar and striking character of my ill.u.s.trations. He invited me to his house, showed me a mult.i.tude of curiosities, which he had collected in his travels round the world, made me a present of part of a skull which he had taken from an Egyptian Pyramid--the skull of a prince, who, he said, had lived in the days of Joseph,--he also made me a present of his works, including five volumes of translations from the Poets of Russia, Hungary, and other countries, and some works connected with his own eventful history. Dr. Bowring was a member of Parliament, and he took me to the House of Commons, introduced me to a number of the members, got me into the House of Lords, and did all in his power to make my stay in London as pleasant as possible.

Another London gentleman who was very kind was Dr. Bateman, the Queen's a.s.sistant Solicitor of Excise. He took me to several a.s.semblies, at one of which, besides a number of the great ones of the land, I was introduced to a New Zealand chief, a strong-built, broad-set, large-headed, lion-looking man. It was hinted that he knew the taste of human flesh, and was probably thinking at that moment, what rich contributions some of the youthful and well-fed parties who were paying their respects to him, would make to a New Zealand feast. At one of those a.s.semblies there was a tremendous crowd, and I lost my hat, and some body else must have lost his, for I got a magnificent and strange-shaped head-cover, that might have distinguished, if not adorned, the greatest magnate of the land.

Dr. Bateman and Dr. Bowring showed me kindness in other ways, obtaining for me and my friends large grants of books, contributing to the fund for the purchase of a steam press to be presented to me, and inducing a number of their friends to contribute. I was also introduced to Dr.

Hutton, minister of Carter Lane Chapel, and preached and lectured in his pulpit. And I visited the meeting-place of the Free-thinking Christians, was introduced to the leading members of the society, and was presented with their publications. I preached at Hackney Chapel, where I had William and Mary Howitt as hearers, who were introduced to me after the sermon, invited me to spend some time at their house, showed me the greatest possible kindness, and did as much as good and kind people could do to make my stay in London a pleasure never to be forgotten.

A meeting was called in the a.s.sembly room of the Crown and Anchor, or the city of London Tavern, to give me a public welcome to London, and a great number, the princ.i.p.al part, I suppose, of the London Unitarians met me there, to give me a demonstration of their respect and good wishes. I spoke, and my remarks were very favorably received; and so many and kind were the friends that gathered round me, and so strange and gratifying the position in which I found myself, that I seemed in another world. The contrast was so great between the treatment to which I had so long been accustomed in the New Connexion, and the long-continued and flattering ovation I was receiving from so large a mult.i.tude of the most highly cultivated people in the country, that if I had lost my senses amid the delightful excitement it could have been no matter for wonder.

But it was more than I was able to enjoy. I longed for quiet. I wanted to be at home with my wife and children, and in the society of my less distinguished, but older and more devoted friends. I fear I hardly showed myself thankful enough for the honor done me, or made the returns to my new friends to which they were ent.i.tled. They must have thought me rather cool in private; but they knew that I had been bred a Methodist, a plain Methodist, and had lived and moved among Methodists of the plainer kind, and never before been fairly outside the Methodist world.

And some of them knew that I had not much time for pleasure-taking, sight-seeing, and the current kind of chat, or even the multiplication of new friends and acquaintances. They knew too that I had a business which required my attention, and a vast quant.i.ty of letters to answer, and parties calling for my help in almost every part of the country.

I was happy at length to find myself at liberty to leave the metropolis, and my many new, agreeable and generous friends and acquaintances there, and return to quieter and calmer scenes, and more customary occupations, in the country.

But I never was permitted to confine myself within my old circle of acquaintances, and my old sphere of labor, after my visit to London.

Accounts of my London meetings were given in the Unitarian newspapers and periodicals, and spread abroad through the whole country. The result was, I received invitations to preach and lecture from almost every town of importance throughout the kingdom, and from many places that were not of so much importance; and many of those invitations I was induced to accept. I visited Bristol, and had a welcome there as gratifying and almost as flattering as my London one. I was introduced to all the leading Unitarians there, and had a grand reception, and a course of lectures in the largest and most splendid hall in the city. And the place was crowded. I visited Bridgewater, Plymouth, Exeter, and Tavistock, with like results. And then I had calls to Yarmouth, Lynn, Bridport, Northampton, Taunton, Birmingham, Sheffield, Hull, Manchester, Liverpool, Bolton, Stockton, and other places without number. And everywhere I found myself in very agreeable society, and in every place I met with real, hearty, and generous friends. It is true I met with some who had little of religion but the name; but I met with others, and that in considerable numbers, who really feared and loved G.o.d, and who were heartily desirous to promote a living practical Christianity among their neighbors. These were delighted to see and hear a man who, while he held to a great extent their own religious views, was full of Methodistical zeal and energy, and who had power to attract, and interest, and move the ma.s.ses of the people. They regarded me as an Apostle of their faith. They believed the millennium of enlightened and liberal Christianity was at hand. They hearkened to my counsels, and set to work to distribute tracts, to improve their schools, to establish new ones, to organize city missions, to employ local preachers, and to circulate books of a popular and rousing character. And both they and I believed that a great and lasting revival of pure unadulterated religion was at hand. And it took some time to dissipate these pleasant hopes, and throw the well disposed and more pious part of the Unitarians down into the depths of despondency again. But the melancholy period arrived at length.

You cannot kindle a fire and keep it burning in the depths of the sea.

And it is as hard to revive a dead or dying church, especially when its ministers and schools are supported by old endowments, and when many of its most influential members have caught the infection of infidelity, and become mere selfish, flesh-pleasing worldlings.

And this was the case with Unitarians. Many of the trustees, and a considerable portion of the wealthier members, cared nothing for religion. Others had no regard for anything about Christianity but the name and a little of the form. Some had such a hatred of what they called Methodist fanaticism, that they shrank from any manifestation of religious life or earnestness. And they had such a horror of cant, that they canted on the other side. Their talk about religion was little else but cant. Their talk about cant itself was cant. They had quite a dislike of any thing like religious zeal, and had a dread of any one who had been a Methodist, especially if he retained any of his Methodistical earnestness. The word unction was a term of reproach, and the rich, invaluable treasure for which it stood was an offence. They wished to enjoy themselves in a quiet, easy, self-indulgent, fas.h.i.+onable way, and have just so much of the form and appearance of religion as was requisite to a first cla.s.s worldly reputation. They had no desire to be regarded as skeptics or unbelievers; that would have been as bad as to have been reputed Methodists; but they would have nothing to do with any schemes or efforts for the revival of religious feeling in their churches, or with any interference with the customary habits or quiet worldliness of their peaceable neighbors. Some, and in certain districts many, even of the poorer members, were utterly indifferent, and in some cases even opposed, to any religion. In some cases both rich and poor had become grossly immoral. Their churches had degenerated into eating and drinking clubs. The endowments were spent in periodical feasts.

There were also cases in which the chapel and school endowments had fallen into the hands of individuals or families, who looked on them and used them very much as private property. The schools and congregations had disappeared, and even the chapels and school-houses were rapidly hastening to ruin.

And there was everywhere a tendency downward from the Christian to the infidel level. If churches do not labor for the conversion of the world, and endeavor to become themselves more Christ-like and G.o.dly, degeneracy, and utter degradation and ruin are inevitable. And the tendency, at the time to which I refer, throughout the whole little world of Unitarianism was downwards to utter unbelief. In many minds there was as much impatience with old-fas.h.i.+oned moderate Unitarianism, as with old-fas.h.i.+oned Christianity or Methodism. They wanted preachers who would openly a.s.sail the doctrine of the divine or special inspiration of the Bible, and the supernatural origin of Christianity, and try to bring people down or up to the pagan or infidel level of mere sense and reason.

The Unitarians required no profession of faith; so that deists and atheists had the same t.i.tle to members.h.i.+p as believers in Christ. They administered the Lord's Supper, but they had no church discipline, so that people defiled with the filthiest vices had the same right to communicate as people of the rarest virtues. Even the ministers were not required to make any profession of faith, so that deists and atheists were admitted, not only into the churches, but into the pulpits.

I was not aware of these things when I first became identified with the Body. It is possible that the Body was not so corrupt at that time as it was after. Any way, at the time of my return from infidelity to Christianity, both deists and atheists were among the ministers. If any find it hard to believe these things, let them read my pamphlet on Unitarianism, where they will find testimony from leading Unitarians themselves, to the truth of these statements.

Whatever encouragement therefore certain portions of the Unitarian Body might give to a man like me, the influence of the Body generally was sure to render my labors of little or no avail. If the more religious portion of the ministers and members had been willing to come out from the Body, and leave their old-fas.h.i.+oned buildings and endowments behind them, they might have done some good; but this they were not prepared to do. Many even of the better cla.s.s of Unitarian ministers were fond of a quiet literary life. They were students, scholars, and gentlemen, rather than preachers and apostles. They were too good to be where they were, and yet not robust, and daring, and energetic enough to make their way into more useful positions. And their style of preaching was not popular. It never would have moved the ma.s.ses. Indeed much of it would have been unintelligible to the kind of people who crowded to my meetings. They could not therefore have moved into my sphere without exposing themselves to want. If some one could have gone and helped them in their own work, in their own spheres, it might have answered for them; but it would not have answered for them to come out and battle with the rude, coa.r.s.e, outside world. And even if good, earnest ministers had gone to their aid, it would have caused a rupture and division in the church.

My labors therefore could do little more than rouse the better portion of the Body to a temporary zeal and activity, and transfer a number of my friends to their communion.

And I and my friends were out of our place, and out of our element, in their society. The earnest words we spoke were not 'like fire among dry stubble;' but like sparks falling into the water. Instead of us kindling them, they extinguished us. The 'strong man armed' who had got possession of the Unitarian House, was _too_ strong to be overpowered and cast out by anything short of a miracle of Omnipotence. And that was out of the question. Christ can save individuals, but not churches. To members of a dead or depraved church his words are, 'Come out of her, my people.' And there was, and there is, no revival, no salvation, for Unitarians, but by their abandonment of the Unitarian fellows.h.i.+p, and their return to Christ as individuals. So you may guess what followed. I had got where it was impossible for me to do others much good, even if I had been better myself, and where it was impossible for me to prevent others from doing me most serious harm. I was on an inclined plane, tending ever downward, with all surrounding influences calculated to render my descent every day more rapid.

Down this inclined plane I gradually slid, till I reached at length the land of doubt and unbelief. My descent was very slow. It took me several years to pa.s.s from the more moderate to the more extravagant forms of Unitarianism.

When I first read the works of Dr. Channing, though I was delighted beyond measure with many portions of his writings, I had a great dislike for some of his remarks about Christ and the Atonement. And when I first resolved to publish an edition of his works, I intended to add notes, with a view to neutralize the tendency of his objectionable views; but by the time I got his works into the press, those views appeared objectionable no longer.

I still however regarded portions of Theodore Parker's works with horror. His rejection of miracles, and of the supernatural origin of Christianity, seemed inexcusable. And many a time was I shocked while reading his "_Discourse on Matters pertaining to Religion_," by the contemptuous manner in which he spoke of portions of the sacred Scriptures. I was enchanted with many parts of the book; but how a man of so much learning, and with such amazing powers, and with so much love and admiration of Christ, and G.o.d, and goodness, could go to such extremes seemed a mystery. And I resolved, that if ever I published an edition of _his_ works, I would add a refutation of his revolting extravagances. Yet time, and intercourse with the more advanced Unitarians, brought me, in a few years, to look on Parker as my model man.

When I first heard an Unitarian say, "Supernaturalism is superst.i.tion,"

I gave him to understand that I did not feel easy in his company. "You are right," said Dr. Bateman, "Pay no regard to such extreme views: preach your own old-fas.h.i.+oned practical doctrines." This made me feel more at ease. Yet the gentleman who spoke to me thus, as I afterwards found, was himself on anti-supernaturalist. But he saw that I had to be dealt with carefully,--that I was not to be hurried or argued, but led gently and unconsciously, into ultra views. This was the gentleman that busied himself more than any other in obtaining subscriptions towards the steam press. He professed to like my supernatural beliefs much better than the anti-supernatural views of the extremer portion of his brethren. And perhaps he _did_ like them better, though he had lost the power to believe them himself. But whether he liked them or not, he won my confidence, and gained an influence over me, which an honest avowal of his opinions, and especially an open attempt to induce me to accept them, would have rendered it impossible for him to gain.

Strange as it may seem, I still retained many of my old methodistical habits, and tastes, and sensibilities. My mind was still imbued to a considerable extent with true religious feeling. My head had changed faster than my heart. And I still took delight in reading a number of my old religious books. And I had no disposition to indulge myself in worldly amus.e.m.e.nts. I could not be induced to go to a theatre, or even to a concert. I would not play at draughts or chess. I hated cards. And all this time I held myself prepared to defend, in public discussion, what I considered to be the substance of Christianity. An arrangement was actually made for a public debate on Christianity about this time, between me and Mr. Holyoake. It was to take place at Halifax, and I attended at the time, and stated my views in two lectures; but Mr.

Holyoake did not attend. He was prevented from doing so by illness, it was said.

Some of the publications which I issued about this time, in reply to one sent forth by the Rev. W. Cooke, led to a public discussion between me and that gentleman, in the Lecture-room, Newcastle-on-Tyne. Mr. Cooke was a minister--the ablest minister--in the Body to which I myself had formerly belonged. The list of subjects for debate included the following:--"What is a Christian? What is the Scripture doctrine with regard to the Atonement? What is Saving Faith? What do the Scriptures teach with regard to Original Sin, or Natural Depravity, The Trinity, The Divinity of Christ, The Hired Ministry, and Future Punishment?"

The discussion lasted ten nights, and every night the room was crowded to its utmost capacity. The excitement was intense. And it pervaded the whole country. There were persons present from places nearly two hundred miles distant. Hugh Miller, the Scotch geologist, was there one night. As usual, both parties considered themselves victorious. And both were right. Neither the truth nor the error was all on one side; nor was the argument. Christianity was something different from the creed of either party, and something more and better. It was more and better than the creeds of both parties put together. My opponent, though something of a Christian, was more of a theologian. He was committed to a system, and could not see beyond it, or dared not accept any views at variance with its doctrines. Hence he went in direct opposition to the plainest teachings of the Scriptures, and the clearest dictates of common sense.

He found it necessary also, to spend a portion of his time in foolish criticisms on Greek and Hebrew words, and in efforts to make the worse appear the better reason. As for myself, I was committed to change. I was travelling downwards at the time, at a rather rapid rate, and was not to be turned back, or even made to slacken my pace. The ordinary kind of theological vanities I regarded with the utmost contempt, and I had come to look on some portions even of Christ's own teachings as nothing more than doubtful human opinions. I held to the great foundation truths of religion, and to the general principles of Christian truth and duty, and, I will not say, defended them, for they needed no defence beyond their own manifest reasonableness and excellence,--but stated them both with sufficient clearness and fulness.

But neither party was in a state of mind to learn from the other. War, whether it be a war of words, or a war of deadlier weapons, tends generally to widen the differences and increase the antipathies of the combatants. And so it was here. And one party certainly went further and travelled faster in the way of error after this exciting contest than he had done before.

And greater extremes produced more bitterness of feeling in my opponents. One man wished me dead, and said to a near relation of mine, "If there was a rope round his neck, and I had hold of it, I would hang him myself." And this was a man remarkable, in general, for his meekness and gentleness. Another said he "should like to _stick_ me:" but _he_ was a butcher. Another person, a woman, said, "Hanging would be too good for him: h.e.l.l is not bad enough for him." There was one even among my relations that would not speak to me; a relation that before had regarded me with pride. At some places where I was announced to lecture, men organized and plotted to do me bodily injury, and in some cases they threatened me with death. On more than one occasion I had narrow escapes with my life. Once I was struck on the head with a brick, which almost took away my consciousness, and came near putting an end to my life. On another occasion I was hunted by a furious mob for hours, and had repeated hair-breadth escapes from their violence. One man advocated my a.s.sa.s.sination in a newspaper, and the editor inserted the article, and quietly gave it his sanction.

All this was natural, but it was not Christian, nor was it wise. "The wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of G.o.d." Hard bricks have no tendency to soften a man's heart. These attempts to force me into submission made me more rebellious. They roused my indignation to the highest pitch, and fearfully increased my hatred of the churches and their creeds, and made me feel as if I ought to wage against my persecutors an unsparing and eternal war.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE BIBLE QUESTION. INSPIRATION, INFALLIBILITY. HISTORY OF MY VIEWS ON THE SUBJECT.

A PRAYER.

Help me, O Thou Great Good Father of my spirit, in the work on which I am now about to enter. Enable me, on the great and solemn subject on which I am now to speak, to separate the true from the false, the doubtful from the certain, the important from the unimportant. And may I be enabled to make all plain. And save me, O my Father, from going too far. Let me not run to any extreme. Yet enable me to go far enough. May I not, through needless fear, or through any evil motive, be kept from speaking anything that ought to be said. I am Thine, O my G.o.d; use me according to Thy will, for the service of Thy Church, and for the welfare of the world. I am every moment accountable to Thee; help me so to speak that I may be at peace with my own soul, and have a sweet a.s.surance of Thy approbation. Fill my soul, O my Father, with the spirit of love, of truth, of tenderness, and of all goodness. Guide Thou my pen, and control my spirit. Grant that I may so write, that I may do some good and no harm. May Thy people endeavor to do justice to what I say. If any one, through error or evil disposition, should do me wrong, help me to bear the trial with Christian meekness and patience. And may the time at length come, when the religion of Christ, so full of truth and love, shall be understood and embraced by all mankind, and when by its blessed and transforming power the earth shall become the abode of purity, and love, and bliss. AMEN.

It may not be amiss to state now, how far I had gone at this time, with regard to my views on the Bible.

1. I remember a time, when I believed that the Bible in which my father read, came down direct from G.o.d out of heaven, just as it was. I looked on it as simply and purely divine.

2. I afterwards learnt that the Bible was printed on earth, and that it was a translation from other books which had been written in Greek and Hebrew.

3. But I still supposed that the Greek and Hebrew Bible was wholly divine, and that the translation was as perfect as the original.

4. I next learned that the translation was _not_ perfect,--that the translators were sometimes in doubt as to the meaning of the original, and put one meaning in the body of the page, and another in the margin,--that in other cases they had misunderstood the original, and given erroneous translations. I sometimes heard preachers correcting the translation of pa.s.sages, and when I came to read commentaries and other theological works, I found the authors doing the same thing.

5. I then found that there were several translations of the Scriptures, one by Wesley, one by Campbell, and others by other men, and that they all differed from each other, and that none of them could be regarded as wholly correct. When I read the Notes of Adam Clarke on the Bible, I found that he often differed from all the translators, and that in some cases he differed from them very widely.

6. I still supposed that the originals were perfect; that in them we had the words of G.o.d just as they came from His own mind.

7. But I afterwards found that there were several originals,--or at least several Greek and Hebrew Bibles,--and that they also differed from each other to some extent, and that none of them could be said to be entirely free from error.

8. I learnt from Adam Clarke and others that the printed Greek and Hebrew Bibles had been compiled from _ma.n.u.scripts_,--or from Bibles, or portions of the Bible, written by the hand, before the art of printing was known.

9. I also found that those ma.n.u.scripts differed from each other, in a great many places, and that in some cases they differed on points supposed to be of considerable importance, and that it was impossible to tell which of the ma.n.u.scripts were most correct.

10. I also learnt, that all existing ma.n.u.scripts were copies of other ma.n.u.scripts, and that the real original books, the books written by Moses and the Prophets, and by the Evangelists and Apostles, were all lost, so that it was impossible to tell, with absolute certainty, whether any of the ma.n.u.scripts were absolutely correct,--that when the best and ablest men on earth had done their utmost, there would still be room for doubt as to the true reading, as well as to the correct meaning, of various portions of Scripture.