Modern Atheism under its forms of Pantheism, Materialism, Secularism, Development, and Natural Laws

J >> James Buchanan >> Modern Atheism under its forms of Pantheism, Materialism, Secularism, Development, and Natural Laws

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Secularism, then, professes to be the _positive_ or _practical_ side of
Atheism, and it claims to be better than Religion at least for this
world, because it pays a preeminent, if not exclusive, regard to the
duties of the present life. We cannot consider this "new development" of
an old system, in connection with its recent change of name, and the
reasons that are assigned for it, without seeing that the force of
public opinion, whether well or ill founded, has compelled its advocates
to alter their tactics at least in two respects: they are anxious to
withdraw from offensive prominence the _negative_ articles of their
creed, and to put forward the _positive_ elements of truth which may
still survive after the ruin of Religion; and they evince a disposition,
somewhat new, to conciliate the Christian community, by admitting the
sincerity of the clergy and the good intentions of believers generally,
and inviting their cooeperation in plans of secular improvement. But
Atheism still lurks under the disguise of Secularism; and men of earnest
religion are not likely to be tempted to any close alliance or active
cooeperation with those who misrepresent the character of that God in
whom they believe, and of that Saviour in whom they trust. There may be
some nominal Christians, however, already as unconcerned about the
future and devoted to the present life, as Mr. Holyoake himself could
wish them to be, who will eagerly grasp at this "new development," as a
plausible pretext for continuing in their present course; for "with the
exception of those who compose the real Church of Christ, whose faith is
not a mere name and an unthinking assent to Christianity, but a real,
living, constant power over their life, the _whole world is practically
secularist_, and is living solely by the light of _the present_, and
under the impulse of the motives which it supplies."[312] For
"Secularism is only the Latin term for the old Saxon worldliness:
Secularism has more elements of union than perhaps any other phase of
infidelity; it has the worldliness of mere nominal Christians, as well
as of real infidels."[313] They are really _Secularists_, but as yet
they may not be at ease in their _Secularism_. There may be a secret
monitor within, which reminds them occasionally of death, and judgment,
and eternity; and the rapid flight of time, or the incipient sense of
disease, or the ever-recurring instances of mortality, may awaken them
to transient thoughts of another life for which it were well to be
better prepared. What they want is a theory,--of plausible aspect and
easy application,--which might serve to quell these rising thoughts, and
allay their foreboding fears; and just such a theory they may seem to
find in the proverbial maxim of Secularism, "Work _in_ this life, _for_
this life." We are not sure, however, that even with such men the zeal
of the new _propaganda_ will be altogether successful. It may seem to
some to be out of place, and may even excite a sense of the ludicrous.
"Just fancy for a moment," says the author already quoted, "some
missionary of this principle going into the Royal Exchange at London, or
the Stock Exchange at Leeds or Bradford, or the Cloth-halls of any of
our manufacturing towns, summoning around him the merchants and the
brokers, and then beginning with much earnestness and point to urge them
_not_ to live for eternity, but to be very careful about the present
life: insisting that it was very, very doubtful if earth were not
all,--the present existence the whole of human existence; and that
therefore until there was more certainty they had better make the most
of this; be industrious and prudent, and make themselves as comfortable
as possible; get as much money as they could honestly, and by no means
let any dread of retribution hereafter fetter them in any of their
actions here. Why, these merchants would turn away laughing and saying,
'Either the man is mocking us, or he is mad: that is just what we are
doing with all our might.' They would see at least that Mr. Holyoake's
teaching is very different from that of Him who said, 'Take no thought
for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for
your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the
body than raiment? But seek ye _first_ the kingdom of God and His
righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.' 'For what
is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his soul?
or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?' And marking that
vast difference, they will feel, at least, that no man is entitled to
address them as rational beings in the style of Secularism, unless he
can give them an _absolute assurance_ that there is and can be no future
state of existence,--that the _present_ is man's _only_ life, and that
death is an eternal sleep."

But does Mr. Holyoake give, or pretend to give, any such _assurance_?
"We do not say," he tells us, "that every man ought to give an
_exclusive_ attention to this world, because that would be to commit the
old sin of dogmatism, and exclude the possibility of another world, and
of walking by a different light from that by which alone we are able to
walk. But as our _knowledge_ is confined to this life, and testimony,
and conjecture, and probability are all that can be set forth with
respect to another life, we think we are justified in giving
_precedence_ to the duties of this state, and of attaching _primary_
importance to the morality of man to man." It is not _certain_, then,
that there is no future life; it is even _possible_ that there may be
one; the supposition is not in itself incredible, it may even have
"testimony, conjecture, and probability" in its favor:--some attention
to it, therefore, cannot be forbidden without "committing the old sin
of dogmatism, and excluding the possibility of another world;" but its
comparative uncertainty is urged as a reason for "giving _precedence_ to
the duties of this state, and attaching _primary_ importance to the
morality of man to man." The question would seem to be, not whether
_any_ attention should be bestowed on a future life, but whether it
should be less or more than the attention which we bestow on the present
world. It is a question of degree; and the settlement of that question
is made to hinge entirely on the comparative uncertainty of our prospect
after death. Suppose it were more uncertain, might not the magnitude of
the interests that must be involved in a new and untried existence
hereafter, and which must be measured on the scale of eternity, be more
than sufficient to counterbalance the difference? "Let us be only fully
convinced that our present life is (or may be) the beginning of an
_eternal duration_, and how irresistibly are we urged to a mode of
conduct answerable to that _accession of importance_ which our present
condition in the world derives from the peculiar point of view in which
we then contemplate it!"[314] But, in point of fact, can it be
reasonably said that _the future of our present life_ is in any respect
more certain than our prospects after death: "What is our life? is it
not like a vapor, which appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth
away?" And yet, in spite of its proverbial uncertainty, is it not a
fundamental principle of Secularism that "true life begins in
renunciation," and that "the _future_ must rule the _present_?" Extend
these maxims, which are of unquestionable authority with reference to
the present life, to our prospects beyond the grave, whether they be
regarded as certain, or probable, or possible only, and they will
abundantly vindicate the position that our conduct now and here should
be regulated to some extent by a regard to what may be before us. In
both cases alike, present gratification must give place to future
safety, and _self-denial_, according to the shrewd remark of Franklin,
is neither more nor less in the case of a prudent man than
_self-owning_, the recognition of his own dignity, and the preference of
a greater and more permanent to a smaller and transitory good. It might
still, therefore, be alike our interest and our duty to have _some_
regard to a possible future in the scheme of our present life. And aware
of this Mr. Holyoake solaces himself, and attempts to sustain the
spirits of his friends with the assurance, "Whatever is likely to secure
your best interests here will procure for you the same hereafter,"--a
strange inversion of the scriptural maxim, for it practically amounts to
this, "Seek first the things of this world, and the kingdom of heaven
shall be added unto you." And he states the ground or reason of his
confidence in this respect: "If there be other worlds to be inhabited
after this life, those persons will best be fitted for the enjoyment of
them who have made _the welfare of humanity their business in this_." To
make "the welfare of humanity their business in this life," is a duty
which may be discharged by the Christian not less than the Secularist,
and perhaps with all the greater zeal in proportion to his estimate of
men as responsible and immortal beings, all passing on, like himself, to
an interminable future. But if there be another state of being after
death, will he be best prepared for it who lives "without God" in this
world, without serious forethought in regard to his eternal prospects,
without any deliberate preparation for his certain and solemn change? Or
will it be a consolation to him _then_ to reflect that he disbelieved or
doubted now, and that he exerted his talents and spent his life on earth
in undermining the faith of his fellow-men, and weakening their
impressions of things unseen and eternal?

Mr. Holyoake seems to imagine that whether there be or be not a future
state after death, Secularism is the "safest side," and he puts the
alternative thus: "If there are other worlds to be inhabited after this
life, those persons will best be fitted for the enjoyment of them who
have made the welfare of humanity their business in this. But if there
are not other worlds, men are essentially losers by neglecting the
enjoyment of this." On either supposition, it would seem, the Secularist
has the advantage of the Christian: on the one, because he and not the
Christian, "makes the welfare of humanity his business;" on the other,
because he, and not the Christian, has the true "enjoyment" of the
present life. It might be difficult to prove either of these convenient
assumptions, or to show that there is anything in Christianity to
prevent, anything in Atheism to promote, the care of humanity on the one
hand, or the enjoyment of life on the other. On the contrary, all
experience testifies that Religion is the only sure spring of
philanthropy, and that, on the whole, none have a sweeter enjoyment of
the present life than those who can look abroad on the works of Nature
and say, "My Father made them all," and who can look forward to death
itself with "a hope full of immortality." It is true, that the serious
expectation of a future state must impose a certain restraint on the
indulgence of our appetites and passions; but is it such a restraint as
is injurious even to our temporal welfare? is it not the dictate of
enlightened prudence, were we to look no further than to the present
life? Mr. Holyoake himself repudiates the language which the apostle
puts into the mouth of the unbeliever, "Let us eat and drink, for
to-morrow we die,"--language which is expressive of what would be the
natural tendency of men, were they assured of non-existence hereafter,
but which Mr. Holyoake rejects, with something like virtuous
indignation, saying, "That is the sentiment of the sensualist: it is not
the sentiment of a man who is at all conscious that right and wrong are
inherent in human nature, that there are wide distinctions between
virtue and vice." This is not the sentiment of the man who comprehends
that if we do well, it will be well with us, that if we do harm, the
evil influence will follow us; who sees distinctly that "our acts, if
good, our angels are," and "if ill, our fatal shadows that walk by us
still."[315] It is not the apostle's sentiment nor the sentiment of any
believer; it is, as Mr. Holyoake says, "the sentiment of the
sensualist;" but it is represented as the natural offspring of unbelief
in regard to a future state, just as sensualism is naturally generated
and fostered by unbelief in regard to those moral principles which have
respect to the present life; and if these principles may and should
exert a controlling influence over our conduct, even to the extent of
imposing restraint and self-denial with a view to our welfare in time,
may they not be expected to be all the more powerful when we include
also our welfare in eternity? and may it not thus become manifest that
"godliness hath the promise of the life that now is, as well as of that
which is to come?" It would be difficult to say in what respect
believers "neglect the enjoyment of this life," or are "essentially
losers" by their religion. They will gratefully ascribe to it their
highest and purest happiness; and rather than part with it they will
cheerfully submit to "the loss of all other things," and even to
persecution and martyrdom itself. But it is asked, "If Christianity be
false, is it nothing that you are troubled with a thousand anxieties and
cares about what shall become of you after death? If Christianity be
false, is it nothing that day after day you have the fear of death
before your eyes? If Christianity be false, it makes you slaves while
you live, and cowards in death."[316] We might answer, If Christianity
be _true_, what then? but we prefer a different course: we say that the
reality of a future state is in nowise dependent on the truth of
Christianity, however much we may be indebted to Christianity for our
certain knowledge of it; that even on the principles of Atheism there is
no security against the everlasting continuance of self-consciousness,
any more than there is against the inevitable stroke of death; that
Christianity in either case assumes the fact, and addresses men as dying
yet immortal creatures, while it reveals a way in which those "who
through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage" may be
delivered from that fear, and raised to "a hope full of immortality." As
death is not created or called into being by Christianity, so neither is
the awful future which lies beyond it: the Secularist not less than the
Christian has to do with it. Mr. Holyoake seems, at least occasionally,
to be sensible of this solemn truth. "I am as much concerned," he says,
"as this reverend gentleman can be, as to what shall be _the issue of my
own condition in the future_; I am as much concerned _in the solution of
this question_ as he is himself; and I believe that the view I
entertain, or that any of us may entertain, _conscientiously_, will be
our justification in that issue, if we should come to want
justification. When we pass through the inexorable gates of the future;
when we pass through that vestibule where death stands opening his
everlasting gates as widely to the pauper as to the king; when we pass
out here into the _dim mysteries of the future_, to confront, it may be,
the interrogations of the Eternal,--I apprehend _every man's
responsibility will go with him_, and no second-hand opinions will
answer for us."[317] Is there not something here that should arrest the
attention and awaken the anxiety even of the Secularist himself? He sees
before him the inevitable event of death, and beyond it "the dim
mysteries of the future;" he _may be_ called to "confront the
interrogations of the Eternal," and then "every man's responsibility
will go with him." Surely there is enough in the bare _possibility_ of
such a prospect to justify more than all the interest which has ever
been expended upon it even by the most "anxious inquirer." But, haunted
by these solemn thoughts, Mr. Holyoake takes refuge in the other
alternative of his dilemma: "If there are other worlds, those will best
be fitted for the enjoyment of them who have made the welfare of
humanity their business in this." Secular philanthropy is the best, and
only needful, preparation. With this any belief in regard to the future
is unnecessary, without it no belief will be of any avail: for "the view
which any of us may entertain, conscientiously, will be our
justification in that issue, if we should come to want justification;"
"No second-hand opinions will answer for us. Nothing can justify us,
nothing can give us confidence, but the _conscientious nature_ of our
own conclusions; nothing can give us courage but _innocence_; nothing
can serve our turn but having believed according to _the best of our
judgment_, and having followed those principles which _seem to us_ to be
the truth." He takes refuge, then, first in his _good works_, and
secondly in the _sincerity_ of his convictions, as the sole grounds of
his confidence in the prospect of "confronting the interrogations of the
Eternal!"

Is it wonderful,--such being his only hope in death,--that when cholera
appeared in London, and multitudes were suddenly removed by that
appalling visitation, he should have felt it necessary to deliver a
series of Lectures,--now reprinted as "The Logic of Death,"--"with a
view to the assurance of his friends?" Might there not be some among
them who would shrink from a future judgment on the ground of their
"innocence" or "good works," and many more who would feel that they were
making an awful venture in leaving their eternity to depend on the mere
_sincerity_ of their convictions, in whatever way these convictions may
have been formed, and whether they were _true or false_? And could they
be reassured or comforted by any other article of the Secular Creed?
They might be told, as Mr. Holyoake tells them, "I am not an
unbeliever, if that implies the rejection of Christian truth, since all
I reject is Christian error:" I reject "the fall of man, the atonement,
the sin of unbelief, the doctrine of future punishment; a disbeliever in
all these doctrines, why should I fear to die?" But the more thoughtful
among them, all who were really in earnest, might desiderate something
more; they might see that _disbelief_, however dogmatic, does not amount
to _disproof_, and that the _real ground of fear_ is not in the least
removed by it. Does his question imply, that if these doctrines were
_true_, he would have just reason to fear death? or does it mean merely,
that whether they be true or false, he can have no reason to fear death,
simply because he _disbelieves_ them? On the former supposition, how
vast the difference between the Secularist and the Christian? The one
would have reason to fear because these doctrines are or may be true;
the other believes them to be true, and finds in that very belief a
deliverance from the fear of death, and a firm ground of confidence and
hope! On the latter supposition,--which we believe to be the correct
one,--what an amazing confidence must that man possess in the
_sincerity_ of his convictions, the _conscientiousness_ of his judgment,
and the rigid _impartiality_ of his inquiries after truth, who can peril
his eternal prospects on the mere fact that he _disbelieves_ these
doctrines, whether they be _true_ or _false!_ Suppose that disbelief may
diminish the intensity of his fears, can it alter the real state of the
case, or remove the only just ground of apprehension and anxiety in
regard to the future? The truth of these doctrines is not dependent
either on our belief or disbelief; and in the way of _natural
consequence_, even were there no additional penal infliction, they may
vindicate themselves hereafter in the case of those who neglect or
disbelieve them here, by leaving them destitute of all the advantages
which flow only from the cordial reception of the truth. Thus much at
least would be in entire accordance with the analogy of our experience
with reference to the interests of the present life; for we do suffer,
even now and here, in consequence of our ignorance, or neglect, or
practical disbelief of truth,--and it may be so hereafter, in the way
simply of inevitable natural consequence, but much more in the way of
righteous penal retribution, if there be any truth in that _philosophy
of unbelief_, so true to nature and so solemnly proclaimed, "This is the
condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness
rather than light, because their deeds were evil; for every one that
doeth evil hateth the light, neither cometh to the light, _lest his
deeds should be reproved_."[318]

* * * * *

We have endeavored to estimate the claims of Secularism, and to examine
the foundations on which it rests. In doing so, we have not denied
either the right or the duty of any man to inquire and to decide for
himself on his own solemn responsibility. We admit as fully as Mr.
Holyoake himself, that personal responsibility implies the right, or
rather the duty, of inquiry. He has our entire sympathy when he says,
"It is my business to take care, if I walk _from time to eternity_, that
I walk by that light which satisfies my own understanding. If it were
true that any of you would take my place, _if we should eventually find
ourselves at the bar of God_, and I should find myself to be made
answerable for the opinions which I entertain, or for beliefs which I
had in time, if any of you, or all of you, would take my place, and
answer for me, then I might be content to take your opinions, then I
might stand on the side of the world: but what does it matter to me what
Newton believed, what Locke believed, or what the world believes, unless
the world will answer for me if I believe as the world believes?" But
while the right of inquiry is frankly admitted, it can scarcely be
denied that the mind may be biased by prejudice and involved in error;
and the ultimate question is, not, what are your opinions? but, what are
the grounds on which they rest?--not, what is your belief? but, what is
the truth? Mr. Holyoake is the Coryphaeus of his party. As a popular
writer and speaker, his talents and zeal, devoted to a better cause,
might have fitted him for extensive usefulness, and rendered him a
benefactor to his country. As it is, no man in England rests under a
heavier load of responsibility. He has placed himself at the head of the
_propaganda_ of popular infidelity. Is it yet too late for him to
reconsider his opinions, and retrace his steps? For his own sake, for
the sake of those who are near and dear to him, for the sake of the
multitudes who must be influenced, for good or evil, by his speeches and
writings, let him lay to heart the solemn words of Sir Humphrey
Davy;--"I envy no quality of mind or intellect in others,--not genius,
power, wit, or fancy: but if I could choose what would be most
delightful, and I believe most useful to me, I should prefer _a firm
religious belief_ to every other blessing; for it makes life a
discipline of goodness, creates new hopes when all earthly hopes vanish,
and throws over the decay, the destruction of existence, the most
gorgeous of all lights, calling up the most delightful visions, where
the sensualist and skeptic view only gloom, decay, and annihilation."

"Attempt how vain,--
With things of earthly sort, with aught but God,
With aught but moral excellence, truth, and love
To satisfy and fill the immortal soul!
To satisfy the ocean with a drop;--
To marry immortality to death;
And with the unsubstantial Shade of Time
To fill the embrace of all Eternity."

THE END.

FOOTNOTES:

[251] GEORGE JACOB HOLYOAKE, "Paley Refuted in his own Words," Third
Edition. London, 1850. TOWNLEY AND HOLYOAKE, "A Public Discussion on the
Being of a God," Third Thousand. London, 1852. GRANT AND HOLYOAKE,
"Christianity and Secularism; a Public Discussion held on six successive
Thursday evenings," Seventh Thousand. London, 1853.

[252] "The Reasoner," New Series, No. VIII. 115. Of this serial it is
said (XII. 6, 81), "The Reasoner, which was established in 1846, has
come to be regarded as the accredited organ of Freethinking in Great
Britain. Indeed, for a long time, it has been the principal professed
exponent of these views, _addressed to the working and thinking
classes_."

[253] Ibid., XI. 15, 222; XII. 4, 6, 49, 81.

[254] "The Reasoner," XII. 4, 50.

[255] Ibid., XI. 18, 271.

[256] Ibid., XI. 15, 232.

[257] "The Reasoner," XII. 24, 376.

[258] Ibid., New Series, pp. 9, 130.

[259] Ibid., XI. 24, 368.

[260] DR. CHALMERS' "Works," I. 64.

[261] "Paley Refuted," p. 12.

[262] GRANT AND HOLYOAKE, "Discussion," pp. 5. 8, 221.

[263] "The Reasoner Reasoned with," p. 13. "Holyoake's Reply to Dr.
Forbes of Glasgow."

[264] "The Logic of 'Logic of Death,'" p. 10.

[265] "Paley Refuted," p. 37.

[266] TOWNLEY AND HOLYOAKE, "Discussion," p. 13.

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