LETTER LII.
Dear Charles,—I readily admit that “the abuse of a
good thing is no valid argument against its use;” yet, if by
showing the ridiculous character of the abuse we prevent
that abuse at least, we render some service to the cause of
religion. Nor are all men who set forth the absurdities and
odious things that have become attached to the forms of religion
to be regarded as enemies to religion. Some such
are, perhaps, glad of this pretext to assault true religion itself;
but they cannot do half the evil to it that is done by an
obstinate and prejudiced adherence to folly. Such friends
to religion are guilty of a living caricature of truth; and if
truth is not wholly destroyed by their outrageous abominations,
it is owing to the magnitude of the truth itself, and the
almost uneradicable hold it has upon the human mind.
A good thing is unquestionably abused when made a
pretence for violating a known duty, or for enlisting doubtful
instrumentalities. For instance, it is an abuse of the temperance
principles, when we so hold meetings for their promotion
on the Sabbath as to make temperance, in its present
technical and restrictive sense, paramount to religious duties,
and place this phase of morality in a kind of antagonism
to Christianity. It is an abuse of charity to hold sacred (?)
concerts on the Sabbath; to say nothing about the fact, that
very often all is sheer hypocritical canting about the poor,
to cover a worldly taste for music on a day tedious without
amusement. It is an abuse to employ a danseuse or a comedian,
low or high, to give benefits in favor of hospitals or
churches. In these ways we teach that the end justifies the
means, unless we at once take the worldly side of the question,
and openly contend that poetic nakedness, as well as the
poetry of motion and buffoonery, are wholesome for public
morals.
Infidelity avails itself most adroitly of the current tastes
and tendencies, and changing into an angel of light, unites
most complacently and benevolently with nominal Christianity
in promoting certain charities, and separate moralities.
It may be found curiously curled with serpent-like sinuosities,
into peace societies, abolition societies, temperance
movements, church fairs, Sunday concerts, and even Odd-Fellowships.
Hence the subtle innuendoes, the sly allusions, the triumphant
comparisons, by which Christianity and its vital
doctrines are continually assailed by some members of all
these combinations: not that the combinations are not in
many things right, per se, but that they are convenient platforms
for the erection of
masked batteries, whence to dart
fiery arrows against truth.
Why do so many abolitionists sneer at Moses and the
plenary inspiration of the Scriptures? Why do some temperance
lecturers reproach Christ for turning water into
wine, and try to show there was mistake when wine was
employed in the Lord's Supper? And why do many Odd
Fellows and Sons of Temperance sometimes ask, “Whether
Christian professors could do more for one another than these
benevolent associations do for their members?” Aye! to
my eyes, plain enough is the gleam of a fiery scale, and to
my ear the hiss of a venomous tongue, there! I wait not for
the head to erect itself boldly amid its huge and curving
body; I am alarmed at one gleam and one hiss—a snake!
It is not my wish to enter into the argument, at this time,
by which the sophistry is exposed of boastful philanthropy
and lop-sided philosophy; enough, that in many modern
schemes, originally designed by good men and for good purposes,
can now be discerned a spirit of antagonism to any religion
that is worthy the name. Yet, mistake me not; there
is a lawfulness and a utility in many combinations, and to
some extent men may avail themselves of the advantages of
mutual assurance or insurance. But, this I hold: that in
all moral organizations involving one or two points only, is
resident a strong and almost uncontrollable tendency towards
supercilious opposition to pure Christianity—a determination
to elevate the part above the whole—a dormant
spirit of infidelity, that in favorable circumstances will attack
truth and aim to bring it into discredit. As a general
rule, with rare exceptions, let Christians, and especially clergymen,
“having a better way,” stand aloof; lest by their
conduct they seem to say, the church and its plans are not
enough for the government of life.
Charles, you are exempted from military duties, and from
serving on juries;—why? Because such matters are intrinsically
wrong? No; but for some real or seeming reasons,
such matters are deemed inconsistent with clerical duties
and character. Believe me, you are for similar reasons
exempted from speculations in stocks—from dealing in
horses—from many things in which other men may, by universal
consent, take part, and without injury to their reputation.
And, in the view of a proper public opinion—not of
“the upper ten thousand,” nor of the lower fifty thousand,
but a public opinion of very many wise, good, experienced,
and learned men—you are exempted from any necessity of
joining secret societies, whether odd in name or nature.
Can you not, Charles, preach a funeral sermon when a
stranger dies in your neighborhood, without inquiring whether
he be or be not a member of some assurance or insurance
society? I know, indeed, that you have repeatedly officiated
on these mournful occasions, when the deceased was a
stranger and far from home; but I know, too, Charles, that
neither you nor your friends published the fact in the village
papers. You did not, with ostentatious triumph, announce
the wonderful result of your principles; nor did you with
self-complacent meekness wonder if people elsewhere behaved
as well; nor did you query if other folks did, may be,
neglect such obvious duties!
Something godlike seems to be in certain associations in
the old world, where men are banded as brothers to carry the
wounded and sick to the hospitals, and there to administer to
their wants; but secrecy in such associations differs from a
Masonic secrecy, concealing not thoughts, but actors; and
the good that is done, like the expansive love of the Bible,
is done, not to an Odd Fellow, but to a man!
If the men of this generation see fit, nothing forbids their
forming mutual assurance societies of a moral nature, and
they may, without sin, vow to bury and nurse one another;
but let Christians do all sorts of good to all sorts of men,
“as they have opportunity, and especially to the household
of faith.” And whilst odd and even fellows make a sputter
in those cases where they have helped a member—a worthy
member, and one who punetually pays his dues—and while
they cry it up as the charity and the love par excellence, let
Christians, if they are compelled to boast in self-defence,
point to their hospitals, and infirmaries, and alms-houses, and
orphan and widow asylums; to their Bible societies, and
tract societies, and missionary societies, and societies for the
relief of the poor, innumerable! Yea! let every separate
congregation, of every denomination, disclose all its secret
aid to poor brethren “fallen into decay;” which aid, from
delicate love, has never been disclosed; and let nameless and
countless Christian individuals, whose “right hand” has concealed
from “the left,” deeds of kindness to all;—let these
speak for Christian love and kindness!
Charles, there is a perverse propensity in man “to seek
out inventions;” some neglect the gospel morality, and some
despise it, and others are led away by the deafening clamors
of an obliqe philanthropy, which having laid its egg knows
how to cackle over it.
