History of Civilization in England, Vol. 3 of 3

Under the influence of this horrible creed, and from the unbounded sway exercised by the clergy who advocated it, the Scotch mind was thrown into such a state, that, during the seventeenth, and part of the eighteenth, century, some of the noblest feelings of which our nature is capable, the feelings of hope, of love, and of gratitude, were set aside, and were replaced by the dictates of a servile and ignominous fear. The physical sufferings to which the human frame is liable, nay, even the very accidents to which we are casually exposed, were believed to proceed, not from our ignorance, nor from our carelessness, but from the rage of the Deity. If a fire chanced to break out in Edinburgh, the greatest alarm was excited, because it was the voice of God crying out against a luxurious and dissolute city.527 If a boil or a sore appeared on your body, that, too, was a divine punishment, and it was more than doubtful whether it might lawfully be cured.528 The small-pox, being one of the most fatal as well as one of the most loathsome of all diseases, was especially sent by God; and, on that account, the remedy of inoculation was scouted as a profane attempt to frustrate His intentions.529 Other disorders, which, though less terrible, were very painful, proceeded from the same source, and all owed their origin to the anger of the Almighty.530 In every thing, His power was displayed, not by increasing the happiness of men, nor by adding to their comforts, but by hurting and vexing them in all possible ways. His hand, always raised against the people, would sometimes deprive them of wine by causing the vintage to fail;531 sometimes, would destroy their cattle in a storm;532 and sometimes, would even make dogs bite their legs when they least expected it.533 Sometimes, He would display His wrath by making the weather excessively dry;534 sometimes, by making it equally wet.535 He was always punishing; always busy in increasing the general suffering, or, to use the language of the time, making the creature smart under the rod.536 Every fresh war was the result of His special interference; it was not caused by the meddling folly or insensate ambition of statesmen, but it was the immediate work of the Deity, who was thus made responsible for all the devastations, the murders, and other crimes more horrible still, which war produces.537 In the intervals of peace, which, at that period, were very rare, He had other means of vexing mankind. The shock of an earthquake was a mark of His displeasure;538 a comet was a sign of coming tribulation;539 and when an eclipse appeared, the panic was so universal, that persons of all ranks hastened to church to deprecate His wrath.540 What they heard there, would increase their fear, instead of allaying it. For the clergy taught their hearers, that even so ordinary an event as thunder, was meant to excite awe, and was sent for the purpose of showing to men with how terrible a master they had to deal.541 Not to tremble at thunder, was, therefore, a mark of impiety; and, in this respect, man was unfavourably contrasted with the lower animals, since they were invariably moved by this symptom of divine power.542

These visitations, eclipses, comets, earthquakes, thunder, famine, pestilence, war, disease, blights in the air, failures in the crops, cold winters, dry summers, these, and the like, were, in the opinion of the Scotch divines, outbreaks of the anger of the Almighty against the sins of men; and that such outbreaks were incessant is not surprising, when we consider that, in the same age, and according to the same creed, the most innocent, and even praiseworthy, actions were deemed sinful, and worthy of chastisement. The opinions held on this subject are not only curious, but extremely instructive. Besides forming an important part of the history of the human mind, they supply decisive proof of the danger of allowing a single profession to exalt itself above all other professions. For, in Scotland, as elsewhere, directly the clergy succeeded in occupying a more than ordinary amount of public attention, they availed themselves of that circumstance to propagate those ascetic doctrines, which, while they strike at the root of human happiness, benefit no one except the class which advocates them. That class, indeed, can hardly fail to reap advantage from a policy, which, by increasing the apprehensions to which the ignorance and timidity of men make them too liable, does also increase their eagerness to fly for support to their spiritual advisers. And the greater the apprehension, the greater the eagerness. Of this, the Scotch clergy, who were perfect masters of their own art, were well aware. Under their influence, a system of morals was established, which, representing nearly every act as sinful, kept the people in perpetual dread, lest unwittingly they were committing some enormous offence, which would bring upon their heads a signal and overwhelming punishment.

According to this code, all the natural affections, all social pleasures, all amusements, and all the joyous instincts of the human heart were sinful, and were to be rooted out. It was sinful for a mother to wish to have sons;543 and, if she had any, it was sinful to be anxious about their welfare.544 It was a sin to please yourself, or to please others; for, by adopting either course, you were sure to displease God.545 All pleasures, therefore, however slight in themselves, or however lawful they might appear, must be carefully avoided.546 When mixing in society, we should edify the company, if the gift of edification had been bestowed upon us; but we should by no means attempt to amuse them.547 Cheerfulness, especially when it rose to laughter, was to be guarded against; and we should choose for our associates grave and sorrowful men, who were not likely to indulge in so foolish a practice.548 Smiling, provided it stopped short of laughter, might occasionally be allowed; still, being a carnal pastime, it was a sin to smile on Sunday.549 Even on week-days, those who were most imbued with religious principles hardly ever smiled, but sighed, groaned, and wept.550 A true Christian would be careful, in his movements, to preserve invariable gravity, never running, but walking soberly, and not treading out in a brisk and lively manner, as unbelievers are wont to do.551 So, too, if he wrote to a friend, he must beware lest his letter should contain any thing like jocoseness; since jesting is incompatible with a holy and serious life.552

It was, moreover, wrong to take pleasure in beautiful scenery; for a pious man had no concern with such matters, which were beneath him, and the admiration of which should be left to the unconverted.553 The unregenerate might delight in these vanities, but they who were properly instructed, saw Nature as she really was, and knew that as she, for about five thousand years, had been constantly on the move, her vigour was well-nigh spent, and her pristine energy had departed.554 To the eye of ignorance, she still seemed fair and fresh; the fact, however, was, that she was worn out and decrepit; she was suffering from extreme old age; her frame, no longer elastic, was leaning on one side, and she soon would perish.555 Owing to the sin of man, all things were getting worse, and nature was degenerating so fast, that already the lilies were losing their whiteness, and the roses their smell.556 The heavens were waxing old;557 the very sun, which lighted the earth, was becoming feeble.558 This universal degeneracy was sad to think of; but the profane knew it not. Their ungodly eyes were still pleased by what they saw. Such was the result of their obstinate determination to indulge the senses, all of which were evil; the eye being, beyond comparison, the most wicked. Hence, it was especially marked out for divine punishment; and, being constantly sinning, it was afflicted with fifty-two different diseases, that is, one disease for each week in the year.559

On this account, it was improper to care for beauty of any kind; or, to speak more accurately, there was no real beauty. The world afforded nothing worth looking at, save and except the Scotch Kirk, which was incomparably the most beautiful thing under heaven.560 To look at that was a lawful enjoyment, but every other pleasure was sinful. To write poetry, for instance, was a grievous offence, and worthy of especial condemnation.561 To listen to music was equally wrong; for men had no right to disport themselves in such idle recreation. Hence the clergy forbade music to be introduced even during the festivities of a marriage;562 neither would they permit, on any occasion, the national entertainment of pipers.563 Indeed, it was sinful to look at any exhibition in the streets, even though you only looked at it from your own window.564 Dancing was so extremely sinful, that an edict, expressly prohibiting it, was enacted by the General Assembly, and read in every church in Edinburgh.565 New Year's Eve had long been a period of rejoicing in Scotland, as in other parts of Europe. The Church laid her hands on this also, and ordered that no one should sing the songs usual on that day, or should admit such singers into his own private house.566

At the christening of a child, the Scotch were accustomed to assemble their relations, including their distant cousins, in whom, then as now, they much abounded. But this caused pleasure, and pleasure was sinful. It was, therefore, forbidden; the number of guests was limited; and the strictest supervision was exercised by the clergy, to prevent the possibility of any one being improperly happy on such occasions.567

Not only at baptisms, but also at marriages, the same spirit was displayed. In every country, it has been usual to make merry at marriages; partly from a natural feeling, and partly, perhaps, from a notion that a contract so often productive of misery, might, at all events, begin with mirth. The Scotch clergy, however, thought otherwise. At the weddings of the poor, they would allow no rejoicing;568 and at the weddings of the rich, it was the custom for one of them to go for the express purpose of preventing an excess of gaiety. A better precaution could hardly be devised; but they did not trust exclusively to it. To check the lusts of the flesh, they, furthermore, took into account the cookery, the choice of the meats, and the number of the dishes. They were, in fact, so solicitous on these points, and so anxious that the nuptial feast should not be too attractive that they fixed its cost, and would not allow any person to exceed the sum which they thought proper to name.569

Nothing escaped their vigilance. For, in their opinion, even the best man was, at his best time, so full of turpitude, that his actions could not fail to be wicked.570 He never passed a day without sinning, and the smallest sin deserved eternal wrath.571 Indeed, every thing he did was sinful, no matter how pure his motives.572 Man had been gradually falling lower and lower, and had now sunk to a point of debasement, which made him inferior to the beasts that perish.573 Even before he was born, and while he was yet in his mother's womb, his guilt began.574 And when he grew up, his crimes multiplied thick and fast; one of the most heinous of them being the practice of teaching children new words, – a horrible custom, justly visited by divine wrath.575 This, however, was but one of a series of innumerable and incessant offences; so that the only wonder was, that the earth could restrain herself at the hideous spectacle which man presented, and that she did not open her mouth, as of old, and swallow him even in the midst of his wickedness.576 For, it was certain, that in the whole creation, there was nothing so deformed and monstrous as he.577

Such being the case, it behoved the clergy to come forward, and to guard men against their own vices, by controlling their daily actions, and forcing them to a right conduct. This they did vigorously. Aided by the elders, who were their tools and the creatures of their power, they, all over Scotland, organized themselves into legislative bodies, and, in the midst of their little senate, they enacted laws which the people were bound to obey. If they refused, woe be to them. They became unruly sons of the Church, and were liable to be imprisoned, to be fined, or to be whipped,578 or to be branded with a hot iron,579 or to do penance before the whole congregation, humbling themselves, bare-footed, and with their hair cut on one side,580 while the minister, under pretence of rebuking them, enjoyed his triumph.581 All this was natural enough. For the clergy were the delegates of heaven, and the interpreters of its will. They, therefore, were the best judges of what men ought to do; and any one whom they censured was bound to submit with humility and repentance.582

The arbitrary and irresponsible tribunals, which now sprung up all over Scotland, united the executive authority with the legislative, and exercised both functions at the same time. Declaring that certain acts ought not to be committed, they took the law into their own hands, and punished those who had committed them. According to the principles of this new jurisprudence, of which the clergy were the authors, it became a sin for any Scotchman to travel in a Catholic country.583 It was a sin for any Scotch innkeeper to admit a Catholic into his inn.584 It was a sin for any Scotch town to hold a market either on Saturday or on Monday, because both days were near Sunday.585 It was a sin for a Scotch woman to wait at a tavern;586 it was a sin for her to live alone;587 it was also a sin for her to live with unmarried sisters.588 It was a sin to go from one town to another on Sunday, however pressing the business might be.589 It was a sin to visit your friend on Sunday;590 it was likewise sinful either to have your garden watered,591 or your beard shaved.592 Such things were not to be tolerated in a Christian land. No one, on Sunday, should pay attention to his health, or think of his body at all. On that day, horse-exercise was sinful;593 so was walking in the fields, or in the meadows, or in the streets, or enjoying the fine weather by sitting at the door of your house.594 To go to sleep on Sunday, before the duties of the day were over, was also sinful, and deserved church censure.595 Bathing, being pleasant as well as wholesome, was a particularly grievous offence; and no man could be allowed to swim on Sunday.596 It was, in fact, doubtful whether swimming was lawful for a Christian at any time, even on week-days, and it was certain that God had, on one occasion, shown His disapproval, by taking away the life of a boy while he was indulging in that carnal practice.597

That it was a sin to cleanse one's body, might, indeed, have been taken for granted; seeing that the Scotch clergy looked on all comforts as sinful in themselves, merely because they were comforts.598 The great object of life was, to be in a state of constant affliction.599 Whatever pleased the senses, was to be suspected.600 A Christian must beware of enjoying his dinner; for none but the ungodly relished their food.601 By a parity of reasoning, it was wrong for a man to wish to advance himself in life, or in any way to better his condition.602 Either to make money, or to save it, was unsuited to Christians; and even to possess much of it was objectionable, because it not only ministered to human pleasures, but encouraged those habits of foresight and of provision for the future, which are incompatible with complete resignation to the Divine will. To wish for more than was necessary to keep oneself alive, was a sin as well as a folly, and was a violation of the subjection we owe to God.603 That it was contrary to His desire, was, moreover, evident, from the fact that He bestowed wealth liberally upon misers and covetous men; a remarkable circumstance, which, in the opinion of Scotch divines, proved that He was no lover of riches, otherwise He would not give them to such base and sordid persons.604

To be poor, dirty, and hungry, to pass through life in misery, and to leave it with fear, to be plagued with boils, and sores, and diseases of every kind, to be always sighing and groaning, to have the face streaming with tears, and the chest heaving with sobs, in a word, to suffer constant affliction, and to be tormented in all possible ways; to undergo these things was deemed a proof of goodness, just as the contrary was a proof of evil. It mattered not what a man liked; the mere fact of his liking it, made it sinful. Whatever was natural, was wrong. The clergy deprived the people of their holidays, their amusements, their shows, their games, and their sports; they repressed every appearance of joy, they forbade all merriment, they stopped all festivities, they choked up every avenue by which pleasure could enter, and they spread over the country an universal gloom.605 Then, truly, did darkness sit on the land. Men, in their daily actions and in their very looks, became troubled, melancholy, and ascetic. Their countenance soured, and was downcast. Not only their opinions, but their gait, their demeanour, their voice, their general aspect, were influenced by that deadly blight which nipped all that was genial and warm. The way of life fell into the sear and yellow leaf; its tints gradually deepened; its bloom faded, and passed off; its spring, its freshness, and its beauty, were gone; joy and love either disappeared or were forced to hide themselves in obscure corners, until at length the fairest and most endearing parts of our nature, being constantly repressed, ceased to bear fruit, and seemed to be withered into perpetual sterility.

Thus it was, that the national character of the Scotch was, in the seventeenth century, dwarfed and mutilated. With nations, as with individuals, the harmony and free development of life can only be attained by exercising its principal functions boldly and without fear. Those functions are of two kinds; one set of them increasing the happiness of the mind, another set increasing the happiness of the body. If we could suppose a man completely perfect, we should take for granted that he would unite these two forms of pleasure in the highest degree, and would extract, both from body and mind, every enjoyment consistent with his own happiness, and with the happiness of others. But, as no such character is to be found, it invariably occurs, that even the wisest of us are unable to hold the balance; we, therefore, err, some in over-indulging the body, some in over-indulging the mind. Comparing one set of indulgences with the other, there can be no doubt that the intellectual pleasures are, in many respects, superior to the physical; they are more numerous, more varied, more permanent, and more ennobling; they are less liable to cause satiety in the individual, and they produce more good to the species. But for one person who can enjoy intellectual pleasures, there are at least a hundred who can enjoy physical pleasures. The happiness derived from gratifying the senses, being thus diffused over a wider area, and satisfying, at any given moment, a greater number of persons than the other form of happiness is capable of, does, on that account, possess an importance which many who call themselves philosophers are unwilling to recognize. Too often have philosophic and speculative thinkers, by a foolish denunciation of such pleasures, done all in their power to curtail the quantity of happiness of which humanity is susceptible. Forgetting that we have bodies as well as minds, and forgetting, too, that in an immense majority of instances the body is more active than the mind, that it is more powerful, that it plays a more conspicuous part, and is fitted for greater achievements, such writers commit the enormous error of despising that class of actions to which ninety-nine men out of every hundred are most prone, and for which they are best fitted. And for committing this error they pay the penalty of finding their books unread, their systems disregarded, and their scheme of life adopted, perhaps, by a small class of solitary students, but shut out from that great world of reality for which it is unsuited, and in which it would produce the most serious mischief.

If, then, we review the history of opinion in connexion with the history of action, we may probably say, that the ascetic notions of philosophers, such, for instance, as the doctrines of the Stoics, and similar theories of mortification, have not worked the harm which might have been expected, and have not succeeded in abridging, to any perceptible extent, the substantial happiness of mankind. There are, I apprehend, two reasons why they have failed. In the first place, these philosophers have, with hardly an exception, had little real acquaintance with human nature, and have, therefore, been unable to touch those chords, and appeal to those hidden motives, by influencing which one man gains over another to his side. And, in the second place, they, fortunately for us, have never possessed authority, and have, therefore, been unable either to enforce their doctrine by penalties, or to recommend it by rewards.

But, though philosophers have failed in their effort to lessen the pleasures of mankind, there is another body of men, who, in making the same attempt, have met with far greater success. I mean, of course, the theologians, who, considered as a class, have, in every country and in every age, deliberately opposed themselves to gratifications which are essential to the happiness of an overwhelming majority of the human race. Raising up a God of their own creation, whom they hold out as a lover of penance, of sacrifice, and of mortification, they, under this pretence, forbid enjoyments which are not only innocent, but praiseworthy. For, every enjoyment by which no one is injured, is innocent; and every innocent enjoyment is praiseworthy, because it assists in diffusing that spirit of content and of satisfaction which is favourable to the practice of benevolence towards others. The theologians, however, for reasons which I have already stated, cultivate an opposite spirit, and, whenever they have possessed power, they have always prohibited a large number of pleasurable actions, on the ground that such actions are offensive to the Deity. That they have no warrant for this, and that they are simply indulging in peremptory assertions on subjects respecting which we have no trustworthy information, is well known to those who, impartially, and without preconceived bias, have studied their arguments, and the evidence which they adduce. On this, however, I need not dilate; for, inasmuch as men are, almost every year, and certainly every generation, becoming more accustomed to close and accurate reasoning, just in the same proportion is the conviction spreading, that theologians proceed from arbitrary assumptions, for which they have no proof, except by appealing to other assumptions, equally arbitrary and equally unproven. Their whole system reposes upon fear, and upon fear of the worst kind; since, according to them, the Great Author of our being has used His omnipotence in so cruel a manner as to endow his creatures with tastes, instincts, and desires, which He not only forbids them to gratify, but which, if they do gratify, shall bring on themselves eternal punishment.

What the theologians are to the closet, that are the priests to the pulpit. The theologians work upon the studious, who read; the clergy act upon the idle, who listen. Seeing, however, that the same man often performs both offices, and seeing, too, that the spirit and tendency of each office are the same, we may, for practical purposes, consider the two classes as identical; and, putting them together, and treating them as a whole, it must be admitted by whoever will take a comprehensive view of what they have actually done, that they have been, not only the most bitter foes of human happiness, but also the most successful ones. In their high and palmy days, when they reigned supreme, when credulity was universal and doubt unknown, they afflicted mankind in every possible way; enjoining fasts, and penances, and pilgrimages, teaching their simple and ignorant victims every kind of austerity, teaching them to flog their own bodies, to tear their own flesh, and to mortify the most natural of their appetites. This was the state of Europe in the middle ages. It is still the state of every part of the world where the priesthood are uncontrolled. Such ascetic and self-tormenting observances are the inevitable issue of the theological spirit, if that spirit is unchecked. Now, and owing to the rapid march of our knowledge, it is constantly losing ground, because the scientific and secular spirit is encroaching on its domain. Therefore, in our time, and especially in our country, its most repulsive features are disguised, and it is forced to mask its native ugliness. Among our clergy, a habit of grave and decent compromise has taken the place of that bold and fiery war which their predecessors waged against a sensual and benighted world. Their threats have perceptibly diminished. They now allow us a little pleasure, a little luxury, a little happiness. They no longer tell us to mortify every appetite, and to forego every comfort. The language of power has departed from them. Here and there, we find vestiges of the ancient spirit; but this is only among uneducated men, addressing an ignorant audience. The superior clergy, who have a character to lose, are grown cautious; and, whatever their private opinion may be, they rarely venture on those terrific denunciations with which their pulpits once resounded, and which, in times of yore, made the people shrink with fear, and humbled every one except him by whom the denunciation was uttered.