Part 4 (1/2)
”No,” said Fellowes; ”a thousand times no.”
”Very well, that gets rid of at least four sevenths of the Bible. Do you believe in the Trinity, the Atonement, the Resurrection of Christ, in a general Resurrection, in the Day of Judgment?”
”No, not in one of them,” said Fellowes; ”not in a particle of one of them.”
”Pretty well again. You reject, then, the characteristic doctrines of Christianity?”
”Not one of them,” was the answer.
”We are indeed in danger of misunderstanding one another,” said Harrington. ”But tell me, is it not your boast, as of Mr. Parker, that the truths which are essential to religion are not peculiar to Christianity, but are involved in all religions?”
”a.s.suredly.”
”If I were to ask you what were the essential attributes of a man, would you a.s.sign those which he had in common with a pig?”
”Certainly not.”
”But if I asked you what were those of an animal, I presume you would give those which both species possessed, and none that either possessed exclusively.”
”I should.”
”Need I add, then, that you are deceiving yourself when you say that you believe all the characteristic doctrines of Christianity, since you say that you believe only those which it has in common with every religion? If I were to ask you what doctrines are essential to const.i.tute any religion, then you would do well to enumerate those which belong to Christianity and every other. But when we talk of the doctrines peculiar to Christianity, we mean those which discriminate it from every other, and not those which are common to it with them.”
”But however,” said Fellowes, ”none of the doctrines you have enumerated are a part of Christianity, but are mere additions of imposture or fanaticism.”
”Then what are the doctrines which, though common to every other religion, are characteristic of it? What is left that is essential or peculiar to Christianity, when you have denuded it of all that you reject? Is it not then a.s.similated, by your own confession, to every other religion? How shall we discriminate them?”
”By this, perhaps,” said Fellowes, ”(for I acknowledge some difficulty here,) that Christianity contains these truths of absolute religion alone and pure. As Mr. Parker says, This is the glory of genuine Christianity.”
”Do you not see that this is the very question,--you yourself being obliged to reject nine tenths of the statements in the only records in which we know anything about it? Might not an ancient priest of Jupiter say the same of his religion, by first divesting it of all but that which you say it had in common with every other? However, let us now look at the positive side. What is the residuum which you condescend to leave to your genuine Christianity?”
”Christianity,” said Fellowes, rather pompously, ”is not so much a system as a discipline,--not a creed, but a life: in short, a divine philosophy.”
”All which I have heard from all sorts of Christianity a thousand times,” cried Harrington; ”and it is delightfully vague; it may mean any thing or nothing. But the truths, the truths, what are they, my friend? I see I must get them from you by fragments. Your faith includes, I presume, a belief in one Supreme G.o.d, who is a Divine Personality; in the duty of reverencing, loving, and obeying him,--whether you know how that is to be done or not; that we must repent of our sins,--if indeed we duly know what things are sins in his sight; that he will certainly forgive to any extent on such repentance, without any mediation; that perhaps there is a heaven hereafter; but that it is very doubtful if there are any punishments.”
”I do believe,” said Fellowes, ”these are the cardinal doctrines of the 'Absolute Religion,' as Mr. Parker calls it. Nor can I conceive that any others are necessary.”
”Well,” said Harrington, ”with the exception of the immortality of the soul, on which Lord Herbert has the advantage of speaking a little more firmly, the Deists and such 'spiritualists' as you are a.s.suredly identical. I have simply abridged his articles. The same project as yours spiritualism' or 'naturalism,' in all its essential features, has been often tried before, and found wanting; that is, of guaranteeing to man a sufficient and infallible internal oracle, independent of all aid from external revelation, and of proving that he has, in effect, possessed and enjoyed it always; only that, by a slight inadvertence (I suppose), he did not know it. The theory, indeed, is rather suspiciously confined to those who have previously had the Bible. No such plenary confidence is found in the ancient heathen philosophers, who, in many not obscure places, acknowledge that the path of mortal man, by his internal light, is a little dim. Many, therefore, say, that the 'Naturalists' and 'Spiritualists' are but plagiarists from the Bible, and of course, like other plagiarists, depreciate the sources from which they have stolen their treasures. I think unjustly; for, whatever their obligations to that mutilated volume, I acknowledge they have transformed Christianity quite sufficiently to ent.i.tle themselves to the praise of originality; and if the Battle of the Books were to be fought over again, I doubt whether Moses or Paul would think it worth while to make any other answer than that of Plato in that witty piece, to the Grub Street author, who boasted that he had not been in the slighest deuce indebted to the cla.s.sics: Plato declared that, upon his honor, he believed him! Whether the successors of the Herberts and Tindals of a former day are not plagiarists from them, is another question, and depends entirely upon whether the writings of their predecessors are sufficiently known to them. Probably, the hopeless oblivion which, for the most part, covers them (for the perverse world has been again and again a.s.sured of its infallible internal light, and has persisted in denying that it has it) will protect our modern authors from the imputation of plagiarism; but that the systems in question are essentially identical can hardly admit of doubt. The princ.i.p.al difference is as to the organon by which the revelation affirmed to be internal and universal is apprehended; it affects the metaphysics of the question, and, like all metaphysics, is characteristically dark. But about this you will not get the ma.s.s of mankind to, any more than you can get yourselves to agree; no, nor will you agree even about the system itself. Nay, you modern spiritualists, just as the elder deists, are already quarrelling about it. In short, the universal light in man's soul flickers and wavers most abominably.”
”I see,” said Fellowes, ”you are profoundly prejudiced against the spiritualists.”
”I believe not,” said Harrington; ”the worst I wish them is that they may be honest men, and appear what they really are.”
”I suppose next,” exclaimed the other, ”you will attribute to the modern spiritualists the scurrility of the elder deists,--of Woolston, Tindal, and Collins?”
”No,” said Harrington, ”I answer no; nor do I (remember) compare Lord Herbert in these respects with his successors. He was an amiable enthusiast; in many respects resembling Mr. Newman himself. Do you remember, by the way, how that most reasonable rejecter of all 'external'
revelation prayed that he might be directed by Heaven whether he should publish or not publish his 'book'? about which, if Heaven was very solicitous, this world has since been very indifferent. Having distinctly heard 'a sound as of thunder,' on a very 'calm and serene day,' he immediately received it as a preternatural answer to prayer, and an indubitable sign of Heaven's concurrence'.”
”No such taint of superst.i.tion, however, will be found clinging to Mr. Newman. He has most thoroughly abjured all notion of an external revelation; nay, he denies the possibility of a 'book-revelation of spiritual and moral truth'; and I am confident that his dilemma on that point is una.s.sailable.”
”Be it so,” answered Harrington; ”you will readily suppose I am not inclined to contest that point very vigorously; yet I confess that, as usual, my inveterate scepticism leaves me in some doubts. Will you a.s.sist me in resolving them?--but not to-night; let us have a little more talk about old college days,--or what say you to a game at chess?”
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July 4. I thought this day would have pa.s.sed off entirely without polemics; but I was mistaken. In the evening Harrington, after a very cheerful morning, relapsed into one of his pensive moods. Conversation flagged; at last I heard Fellowes say, ”I have this advantage of you, my friend, that my sentiments have, at all events, produced that peace of which you are in quest, and which your countenance at times too plainly declares you not to possess. If you had it, you would not take so gloomy a view of things. Like him from whom I have derived some of my sentiments, I have found that they tend to make me a happier man.