The Martyrdom of Man, Winwood Reade [best book club books TXT] 📗
- Author: Winwood Reade
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success of Christianity among the people, and its want of success among
the philosophers, were due to the same cause—the superstition of the
Christian teachers.
Among the missionaries of the present day there are many men who in
earnestness and self-devotion are not inferior to those of the apostolic
times. Yet they almost invariably fail—they are too enlightened for their
congregations. With respect to their own religion, indeed, that charge
cannot be justly brought against them. Set them talking on the forbidden
apple, Noah´s ark, the sun standing still to facilitate murder, the donkey
preaching to its master, the whale swallowing and ejecting Jonah, the
miraculous conception, the water turned to wine, the fig-tree withered by
a curse, and they will reason like children, or in other words they will not
reason at all; they will merely repeat what they have been taught by their
mammas. But when they discourse to the savage concerning his belief
they use the logic of Voltaire, and deride witches and men possessed in a
style which Jesus and the twelve apostles, the fathers of the Church, the
popes of the Middle Ages, and Martin Luther himself would have
accounted blasphemous and contrary to Scripture. Now it is impossible
to persuade an adult savage that his gods do not exist, and he considers
those who deny their existence to be ignorant foreigners unacquainted
with the divine constitution of his country. Hence he laughs in his sleeve
at all that the missionaries say. But the primitive Christians believed in
gods and goddesses, satyrs and nymphs, as implicitly as the pagans
themselves. They did not deny and they did not disbelieve the miracles
performed in pagan temples. They allowed that the gods had great power
upon earth, but asserted that they would have it only for a time; that it
ceased beyond the grave; that they were rebels, and that God was the
rightful king. Here then were two classes of men whose intellects were
precisely on the same level. Each had a theory, and the Christian theory
was the better of the two. It had definite promises and threats, and
without being too high for the vulgar comprehension, it reduced the
scheme of the universe to order and harmony, resembling that of the great
empire under which they lived.
But to the philosophers of that period it was merely a new and noisy form
of superstition. Experience has amply proved that minds of the highest
order are sometimes unable to shake off the ideas which they imbibed
when they were children; but to those of whom we speak Christianity was
offered when their powers of reflection were matured, and it was
naturally rejected with contempt. They knew that the pagan gods did not
exist. Was it likely that they would sit at the feet of those who still
believed in them? They had long ago abandoned the religious legends of
their own country; they had shaken off the spell which Homer with his
splendid poetry had laid upon their minds. Was it likely that they would
believe in the old Arab traditions, or in these tales of a god who took
upon him the semblance of a Jew, and suffered death upon the gallows
for the redemption of mankind? They had obtained by means of
intellectual research a partial perception of the great truth that events
result from secondary laws. Was it likely that they would join a crew of
devotees who prayed to God to make the wind blow this way or that way,
to give them a dinner, or to cure them of a pain? When the Tiber
overflowed its banks the pagans declared that it was owing to the wrath
of the gods against the Christians: the Christians retorted that it was
owing to the wrath of God against the idolaters. To a man like Pliny,
who studied the phenomena with his notebook in his hand, where was the
difference between the two?
In the Greek world Christianity became a system of metaphysics as
abstract and abstruse as any son of Hellas could desire. But in the Latin
world it was never the religion of a scholar and a gentleman. It was the
creed of the uneducated people, who flung themselves into it with
passion. It was something which belonged to them and to them alone.
They were not acquainted with Cicero or Seneca: they had never tasted
intellectual delights, for the philosophers scorned to instruct the vulgar
crowd. And now the vulgar crowd found teachers who interpreted to
them the Jewish books, who composed for them a magnificent literature
of sermons and epistles and controversial treatises, a literature of
enthusiasts and martyrs written in blood and fire. The people had no
share in the politics of the empire, but now they had politics of their own.
The lower orders were enfranchised; women and slaves were not
excluded. The barbers gossiped theologically. Children played at church
in the streets. The Christians were no longer citizens of Rome. God was
their emperor, heaven was their fatherland. They despised the pleasures
of this life; they were as emigrants gathered on the shore waiting for a
wind to waft them to another world. They rendered unto Caesar the
things that were Caesar´s, for so it was written they should do. They
honoured the king, for such had been the teaching of St. Paul. They
regarded the emperor as God´s vice-regent upon earth, and disobeyed him
only when his commands were contrary to those of God. But this
limitation, which it was the business of the bishops to define, made the
Christians a dangerous party in the state. The Emperor Constantine,
whose title was unsound, entered into alliance with this powerful
corporation. He made Christianity the religion of the state and the
bishops peers of the realm.
In the days of tribulation it had often been predicted that when the empire
became Christian war would cease, and men would dwell in brotherhood
together. The Christian religion united the slave and his master at the
same table and in the same embrace. On the pavement of the basilica
men of all races and of all ranks knelt side by side. If any one were in
sickness and affliction it was sufficient for him to declare himself a
Christian: money was at once pressed into his hands: compassionate
matrons hastened to his bedside. Even at the time when the pagans
regarded the new sect with most abhorrence they were forced to exclaim,
“See how these Christians love one another!” It was reasonable to
suppose that the victory of this religion would be the victory of love and
peace. But what was the actual result? Shortly after the establishment of
Christianity as a state religion there was uproar and dissension in every
city of the Empire; then savage persecutions and bloody wars, until a
pagan historian could observe to the polished and intellectual coterie for
whom alone he wrote that now the hatred of the Christians against one
another surpassed the fury of savage beasts against man.
It is evident that the virtues exhibited by those who gallantly fight against
desperate odds for an idea will not be invariably displayed by those who
when the idea is realised enjoy the spoil. It is evident that bishops who
possess large incomes and great authority will not always possess the
same qualities of mind as those spiritual peers who had no distinction to
expect except that of being burnt alive. In all great movements of the
mind there can be but one heroic age, and the heroic age of Christianity
was past. The Church became the state concubine; Christianity lost its
democratic character. The bishops who should have been the tribunes of
the people became the creatures of the Crown. Their lives were not
always of the most creditable kind, but their virtues were perhaps more
injurious to society than their vices. The mischief was done not so much
by those who intrigued for places and rioted on tithes at Constantinople as
by those who, often with the best intentions, endeavoured to make all
men think alike “according to the law.”
It was the Christian theory that God was a king, and that he enacted laws
for the government of men on earth. Those laws were contained in the
Jewish books, but some of them had been repealed and some of them
were exceedingly obscure. Some were to be understood in a literal
sense, others were only metaphorical. Many cases might arise to which
no text or precept could be with any degree of certainty applied. What
then was to be done? How was God´s will to be ascertained? The early
Christians were taught that by means of prayer and faith their questions
would be answered, their difficulties would be solved. They must pray
earnestly to God for help: and the ideas which came into their heads after
prayer would be emanations from the Holy Ghost.
In the first age of Christianity the Church was a republic. There was no
distinction between clergymen and laymen. Each member of the
congregation had a right to preach, and each consulted God on his own
account. The spiritus privatus everywhere prevailed. A committee of
presbyters or elders, with a bishop or chairman, administered the affairs
of the community.
The second period was marked by an important change. The bishop and
presbyters, though still elected by the congregation, had begun to
monopolise the pulpit; the distinction of clergy and laity was already
made. The bishops of various churches met together at councils or
synods to discuss questions of discipline and dogma, and to pass laws,
but they went as representatives of their respective congregations.
In the third period the change was more important still. The congregation
might now be appropriately termed a flock; the spiritus privatus was
extinct; the priests were possessed of traditions which they did not impart
to the laymen; the Water of Life was kept in a sealed vessel; there was no
salvation outside the Church: no man could have God for a father unless
he had also the Church for a mother, as even Bossuet long afterwards
declared; excommunication was a sentence of eternal death. Henceforth
disputes were only between bishops and bishops, the laymen following
their spiritual leaders and often using material weapons on their behalf.
In the synods the bishops now met as princes of their congregations, and
under the influence of the Holy Ghost (spiritu sancto suggerente) issued
imperial decrees. The penalties inflicted were of the most terrible nature
to those who believed that hell-fire and purgatory were at the disposal of
the priesthood, while those who entertained doubts upon the subject
allowed themselves to be cursed and damned with equanimity. But when
the Church became united with the state the secular arm was at its
disposal, and was vigorously used.
The bishops were all of them ignorant and superstitious men, but they
could not all of them think alike. And as if to ensure dissent they
proceeded to define that which had never existed, and which if it had
existed could never be defined. They described the topography of
heaven. They dissected the godhead and expounded the miraculous
conception, giving lectures on celestial impregnations and miraculous
obstetrics. They not only said that 3 was 1, and that 1 was 3: they
professed to explain how that curious arithmetical combination had been
brought about. The indivisible had been divided and yet was not divided:
it was divisible and yet it was indivisible; black was white and white was
black, and yet there were not two colours, but one colour; and whoever
did not believe it would be damned. In the midst of all this subtle stuff,
the dregs and rinsings of the Platonic school, Arius thundered out the
common-sense but heretical assertion that the Father had existed before
the Son. Two
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