THE PEOPLE’S PALACE AND THE RELIGIOUS WORLD;
OR,
THOUGHTS ON PUBLIC AGITATION AGAINST THE PROMISED CHARTER TO THE NEW CRYSTAL PALACE COMPANY, AND ON “SABBATH DESECRATION.”
BY
A LAYMAN.
“THE SABBATH WAS MADE FOR MAN, NOT MAN FOR THE SABBATH.” Mark ii. 27.
LONDON: PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR BY ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE, & CO., 25, PATERNOSTER ROW,
INTRODUCTION.
Disagreement with the object and dislike of the tone of the incipient agitation for preventing the concession of a Royal Charter to the Crystal Palace Company, except upon the condition of its gates being closed on Sunday—a desire to vindicate the consistency of many religious people, whose silence might be construed into sympathy with the movement—and the wish to offer a few thoughts on the impolicy, in a religious point of view, of such attacks on the pleasures of the poor:—are, in brief, the motives which have determined the printing of the following pages. The Writer believes the ground traversed is firm and solid, though he is unable to beguile the journey with those flowers of rhetoric and gleams of warm fancy with which more gifted writers can brighten their course. Though inexperience in book-making and pamphleteering is no excuse for unsound conclusions, he hopes it may avail to disarm the severity of criticism. Convinced that for the advantage of true religion, as well as its professors, the ideas he has broached require to be freely, closely, and sincerely discussed, he ventures to claim for them candid and unprejudiced consideration. He hopes it is superfluous to state that he has no pecuniary interest in, nor connexion with, the project in question.
THE PEOPLE’S PALACE
Shall the new Crystal Palace be open on Sunday? This question is exciting a good deal of attention—especially in the religious world, and is likely to attract more, ere finally set at rest. It is a question of magnitude, and possibly of political importance. It becomes, therefore, the duty of all who feel interested in its solution, to ascertain clearly the facts upon which it is based, the principles with which it is bound up, and the consequences which will flow from its decision. The occasion seems to have been seized upon by what may be called the Sabbatarian party, to make a determined stand on behalf of the principle for which they have often fought and been vanquished—the right of the religious world to impose their notions of Sabbath observance upon the community at large. The particular point at issue may be readily decided by any unbiassed mind, on examination of the actual facts. But the Sabbatarians refuse to be bound down to the case as it stands. They exaggerate and pervert the facts; and, under cover of the smoke and excitement thus created, advance to a general assault upon what they term “Sabbath desecration.” The design of the next few pages is rather to point out the impolicy, danger, and hopelessness of any public movement to prevent the opening of this place of recreation on the Sunday, than to advocate or defend that step.
Although the facts of the case are conveniently lost sight of by the agitators in question, they are really so important to a right understanding of its merits as to admit of re-statement. It appears, then, that the New Crystal Palace at Sydenham is in the hands of a joint-stock company, and is to be conducted on the same commercial principles as all speculations of a like character. Their object is familiar to every newspaper reader. In brief, they propose to provide for the people recreation and instruction of a kind not now within their reach. If the programme be faithfully carried out, the project will unquestionably tend to improve the health, enlarge the knowledge, and refine the taste of the public. The Company have applied for a Royal Charter of Incorporation, the effect of which, as is well known, is to confine the liability of individual shareholders to the amount of their shares. In making their application to Lord Derby, the Directors, we are told by the Times, communicated to his Lordship the terms upon which they proposed to open the building and grounds on Sunday. “They were of opinion that until after one o’clock no trains should run from London, and the Crystal Palace itself should be strictly closed. After that hour they proposed to throw open the park and the winter-garden, but not to exhibit those departments of the building which will partake exclusively of a manufacturing and commercial character, the intention being to devote a certain portion of the space to specimens of manufacture, &c., which the public will be invited, upon certain conditions, to display. In the third place, the Directors undertook that on Sunday no spirituous liquors should be sold in their grounds.” After an interview with the Directors, Lord Derby acquiesced in the stipulations proffered by the Crystal Palace Company, suggested a few trifling variations, and promised to grant the required Charter.
The announcement of this decision or promise—for it can scarcely be regarded as a fait accompli —has excited not a little alarm amongst a section of the religious world. The Lord’s Day Society have taken up the matter very warmly—publishing pamphlets and holding public meetings in condemnation of the arrangement. The Evangelical Alliance, a wide-spread organization, at its recent Conference in Dublin, adopted a strongly-worded resolution and memorial to the Prime Minister to the same effect. These acts of organized bodies have been vigorously followed up by journals representing respectively the Evangelical clergy of the Establishment, Wesleyans, Free Churchmen, and a portion of the Dissenting community; who call upon their readers, in every capacity, and by every means, to resist the proposed “wholesale violation of the Lord’s Day.”[6] The strength of this disapprobation and alarm may be gathered from one or two quotations. A widely-circulated religious magazine denounces the proposal as “sinful,” and calculated to “lead to sin on an extensive and alarming scale,” and calls “upon all religious and moral men, throughout the United Kingdom, to lift up their voices like a trumpet, and to cause them to be heard on this great and vital question.” A very influential newspaper in the North predicts that “the measure will have a most fatal operation on the religious interests of the country,” and urges a general expression of public opinion “to prevent the Minister from persevering in his intention to grant a Charter containing permission to open the Crystal Palace on Sunday.” A Clapham clergyman, in a pamphlet very loosely put together,[7] says, “The projected aggression of pleasure in 1853, is to me a greater object of dread than the aggression of Popery in 1850, because it falls in with the taste of the vast majority of mankind.” A metropolitan Dissenting journal speaks of the question as one involving a principle “that would speedily extend itself to other institutions,” and expresses its belief that the recognition by the State that the Sabbath ends at one o’clock, would be “a far deeper stab to public morality, and afford a greater triumph to Popery and Infidelity, than any act of the British Government since the days of James II.” Ministers of religion, of every denomination, are therefore called upon to protest against the threatened evil, and Sunday-school teachers to petition against a measure aiming a deadly blow at those institutions. Another London paper is even more emphatic, not to say intemperate, upon the subject, describing “this new guild of Sunday traders as craving, through the sign-manual of the Sovereign, license to open a gorgeous temple of rampant pleasure, and to filch, by Royal authority, both coin and conscience from every unit of the countless myriads, which from Sunday to Sunday, they know, will throng to this haunt of unzoned enjoyment, and this under the wicked plea of sympathy for the poor.” These are but specimens of the style of writing adopted by the self-elected defenders of “Sabbath observance,” in order to excite their readers to the proper pitch of apprehension. But ex pede Herculem. They will suffice to indicate the real or affected panic which seems to have seized the leading organs of the religious world, at the proposed boon to the Crystal Palace Company—an alarm, be it observed, which may be communicated to thousands of minds, and result in a virulent, perhaps a formidable movement. Before matters have assumed this shape, it in worth while to inquire what occasion there is for all this outcry, and whether Christian men are either right, honest, or wise, in originating a wide-spread agitation to prevent the concession of the promised Charter.
The end sought by the objectors is twofold—first, the prevention of the threatened act of “Sabbath desecration” by Royal authority; and second, the entire closing of the Palace on Sunday. To produce the greater effect upon the public, the two questions are ingeniously, but unscrupulously, mixed up, and furnish a wide margin for that kind of indignant declamation on encroaching upon “the poor man’s day of rest,” opening the floodgates of vice and irreligion, &c., &c., which is likely to tell on the unreflecting. For purposes of dispassionate inquiry, the questions are better separated.
It appears, then, that the Sabbatarian party are greatly alarmed at the contemplated sanction by the Crown of the opening of this great theatre of secular enjoyment on Sunday. It is, they say, a public recognition by the State of the Sabbath as a secular institution—official encouragement to Sabbath-breaking. It may be objected, in limine, that the facts of the case do not bear out their assertion in the form presented. When the new Company went to Government, they were already in possession of the right to open their grounds on Sunday. The Crystal Palace is private property; and if the law permits Cremorne and Rosherville Gardens to be open on that day, what is to prevent the Sydenham Company from using the same privilege? They, like other joint-stock companies, could exist and conduct the speculation without the advantages of a Royal Charter. It is, then, clearly a mistake to suppose that they request Government to sanction the exercise of that right. They do no such thing. In asking for the advantages of a Charter, they volunteer certain concessions to the feelings of the religious world. If Lord Derby had declared himself not satisfied with the conditions, they might have turned round and said: “We will, then, do without the privilege, and pursue our own course unshackled by any restrictions beyond what the law imposes.” Whichever way, therefore, the question is settled, it cannot be fairly alleged that the State makes itself a party to “Sabbath desecration.”
It may further be urged, that Government have no right to refuse, on religious grounds, a privilege which it happens to be at their discretion to confer. To upholders of the principle of a State religion this argument will, of course, not avail. They will maintain that the Queen is the Head of the Church, which, by a legal fiction, includes the nation; and that, therefore, the exercise of her influence in this matter is perfectly legitimate. But where is the educated man who, in the present day, advocates the theory of a church establishment in all its entirety—that is, who would insist upon the duty of the State to maintain “the truth,” or, in other words, to exclude all Dissenters and Catholics from Parliament, and repeal the Toleration Act? The present system of toleration is confessedly a half-way house to full religious freedom. So long as Dissent in any shape is recognised by the Government, that Government—which, for civil purposes, represents the whole community, and is, moreover, virtually chosen and controlled by a power composed of diverse religious elements—has no right to make itself the partisan of any religious opinions. It has long given up the principle in practical legislation, and the nation has ratified the decision. It is really surprising that any Dissenters, the fundamental principle of whose nonconformity is the repudiation of State interference in religious matters, can, by any sophistry, reconcile their minds to such a violation of it as is involved in the demand made upon Government to become the organ of particular religious views on the Sabbath.
“Oh! but,” these Sabbatarians will, doubtless, reply, “we only call upon the Crown to preserve the Sabbath as a civil institution—a day of rest from toil—a barrier to the encroachments of ‘money-getting’ companies and capitalists.” This style of argument is very much like begging the question. It is simply a claim that the State should accept their definition of what constitutes “a day of rest.” Is it not an enormous fallacy for religious men to seek to impose upon Government their interpretation of the Sabbath,—which, moreover, it cannot be denied, is at variance with that of the bulk of the population,—and require that on “civil” grounds it shall have the force of law upon the nation? Cessation from labour, and the observance of certain religious duties, are by no means one and the same thing. The former may be perfectly consistent with an excursion into the country, or recreation amid the woodland scenery of Sydenham—which is the precise thing the religious agitators, repudiate, and are trying to prevent. The argument has force only when applied to the case of the servants of the new company, who will be required to perform certain work on the Sabbath; but even to it is exceptional; for there are cases in which even the most rigid Sabbatarians would admit of deviations from its conclusions.
But, putting aside the principle involved;—on the ground of expediency there are reasons why Government should not refuse the promised Charter on the plea advanced. They would not be acting consistently. Much stress is laid upon the presumption that the granting of this Charter—or, as the Sabbatarians say, the Royal sanction to an act of “Sabbath desecration”—will be a precedent for the opening on Sunday of every other place of amusement or recreation, in the metropolis and kingdom. A precedent forsooth! Has not the metropolis and every large town its tea-gardens, and places of popular resort? The supply of this species of Sunday enjoyment already pretty nearly equals the demand. The only difference between them and the new claimant of popular favour is, that the latter proposes to furnish a higher style of recreation; and having many independent recommendations, asks Government for the concession of a privilege granted to other parties without regard to religious considerations. Would Lord Derby be dealing out “even-handed justice” to higgle with this new Company because it had a boon to ask, for a concession to religious prejudice which was not required in other cases? But, still further, with what decency could he require the Crystal Palace Company to close their grounds on the Sabbath, when the Hampton Court grounds are open to the public by the express authority of the Government and Legislature? The precedent, at which so much alarm has been expressed, has for some years past been established. If, as one of the agitating organs phrases it, the granting of the proposed Charter would transfer the “sin” of Sabbath desecration from individuals to the nation, we have been for some time under the threatened curse.
There is no escape, therefore, from the conclusion, that if the Crystal Palace grounds are to be closed on Sunday—the present law being confessedly inadequate for that purpose—it must be by a new act of legislation, not of specific, but of general application—an act which will include Hampton Court as well as Sydenham, and Rosherville as well as Hampton Court—which will have the effect of shutting up every place of popular recreation on Sunday. Are the objectors to the Crystal Palace Charter prepared for such a wholesale crusade against the recreations of the people? Have they contemplated such an alternative? Probably not—that is, so far as the rank and file of the new agitation are concerned. As respects the leaders, experience is the best test; and from the avowed desire of the Lord’s Day Society, the Agnewites and the Plumptres, to enforce by law the “bitter observance of the Sabbath” upon the nation, it may be easily imagined that they have anticipated such a crisis, and rather chuckle at the dilemma in which many timid friends of religious freedom—panic-stricken at the prospect of increased “Sabbath desecration”—would thereby be placed. Let the latter take warning in time. It is only by a sweeping measure of legislation which would raise the working classes up in arms against the religious world, that the new Crystal Palace, or rather its grounds, can be closed on Sunday.
If there be any truth in the foregoing arguments, the reckless denunciations we have referred to seem very much beside the mark. One might have been better pleased, if the tastes and tendencies of the great bulk of the people were such that the Sydenham Palace were no attraction to them on the Sabbath—their leisure such as that they did not stand in peremptory need of such relaxation. The more highly men value communion with God, the more gladly will they cherish the opportunities of cultivating the spiritual faculty on the day of rest from secular employment. But it is only as the privilege is valued that it is useful. The pleasure and the profit go together. If there be not the spirit of devotion, will the form of it suffice? Does not the very attempt to impose the one where the other is wanting, indicate a misconception of the true spirit of religion? The fuss made by the religious organs about this proposed Charter is wholly inexplicable on any rational grounds consistent with the intelligence and truthfulness of those concerned. To speak of it as fraught with injury to morality and religion is simply a perversion of language—unsupported by evidence or probabilities. For, observe—we are not, or only to a small extent, dealing with a population who now “keep” the Sabbath according to the notions of the religious world, but with people who, if they do not spend the Sunday at Sydenham, will, almost without exception, spend it in a worse manner elsewhere. According to their acceptation of a well-spent Sabbath, it is but a choice of ills. Where, then, is the alarming evil? Is it, that a saunter through the Crystal Palace grounds, reached by a railway, is so much more irreligious than a stroll in the Parks, reached by an omnibus? Does a change of scenery transform the character of the deed? Do a man’s nature and tendencies become metamorphosed by exchanging, for a few hours, his squalid abode for a public-house, a gin-palace, a steamboat, a tea-garden, or a Crystal Palace? Is there something so deleterious in a Sunday glance at the beautiful prospects of Anerley, that the country must be convulsed to prevent it?[12]
It becomes Christian men to look this matter fairly in the face, and not be deluded by cant and prejudice. Let them manfully examine facts and probabilities, before they commit themselves to unreasoning clamour. Neither the cause of religion nor of truth will gain by allowing common sense to be overborne by invective and exaggeration. The Sabbatarians themselves will admit that the people who are likely to crown the heights of Norwood are not those who would otherwise frequent a place of worship; but, for the most part, overworked artisans and labourers, with their families, who systematically spend the Sabbath at the tea-garden or ale-house—who, if they were not at Sydenham would perhaps be at Gravesend—who, if they could not enjoy the beauties of Sydenham, and restore their wasted energies amidst its health-inspiring breezes, would probably kill the time by the indulgence of depraved appetites in a poisoned atmosphere. The recreations of Sydenham are as elevating, refining, and harmless, as at any other place of Sunday resort—probably more so. At the same time, they are more attractive. Is it, then, so very irrational to suppose that, under the circumstances of the case, the change will be a gain? Surely it is not Quixotic, though opposed to the Sabbatarian view, to conclude, that the facilities offered to the working classes by means of steam for recruiting their strength and improving their tastes by country excursions, and, in particular, the superior attractions and judicious regulations of the new Crystal Palace Company, are, on the whole, calculated to promote the health, temperance, and morality of the people.
It is not assuming too much to conclude that the “attractions” and “regulations” of Sydenham will be superior to those which obtain elsewhere, A visit to the tea-gardens of Chelsea or Camberwell on a Sunday afternoon or evening—accessible to all who purchase a ticket of “refreshment”—will satisfy any unprejudiced person on this head. The scenes he will there witness can scarcely fail to convince him that the cause of morality will gain from the transference of a portion of the crowds there assembled to the Norwood grounds and their stricter surveillance. Other things being equal, ought not the religions world to prefer that the working classes of London should enjoy the fresh air of the tea-garden to the drunkenness of the gin-palace—the temperance associated with the sylvan landscape of Sydenham, to the license of Cremorne?
No doubt there is another side to the picture. The event so much deprecated will unquestionably tend to induce many people to “break the Sabbath” who would not otherwise do so. This will especially be the case with the young, who will, to some extent, desert our Sunday-schools, as well as places of worship. But the anticipation of harm from this cause may be exaggerated. The attractions held out by the Crystal Palace do exist elsewhere, with others of a more baneful character, and you cannot suppress them but by a general act of legislation. If the number of pleasure-takers is increased, the influence for evil is diminished. The argument, too, is essentially vicious; for if its “superior attractions” is a reason for closing the Crystal Palace on Sunday, fine weather is to be deprecated on the same ground, and rain and fogs courted as the allies of church and school!
But the Crystal Palace Charter is menaced because it will rob the poor of their day of rest! If the poor were obliged to visit Sydenham on Sunday, there would be some force in the plea. But it is notoriously otherwise. Are not the hundreds and thousands who every Sunday crowd the outward-bound railway-carriage, steamboat, and omnibus, following their own inclination as much as the aristocracy who take their afternoon airing in Hyde Park, or the thousands who frequent their places of worship? What right, then, have the latter to dictate to the former how they shall spend the day of rest—or, unbidden, to constitute themselves the champions of the “poor man’s day?” May not the journals who hold such language be fairly called upon to produce their authority? If the working-classes object to the opening of the Crystal Palace, or to railway and steamboat travelling, on Sunday, they will refrain from using them; but so long as it is otherwise, nay, the reverse, religious men only injure the Christianity they profess, and assume the garb of hypocrites and intolerants, by pretending that the poor are thereby wronged, and calling upon the Crown to interfere for their protection.
Briefly to recapitulate the foregoing facts and arguments:—The Crystal Palace Company is a private speculation, not a public institution. They propose to open only their grounds and winter-garden on Sunday, and that but for half the day. This place of recreation, therefore, stands on much the same footing as Richmond or any other public park—being accessible to the masses by no other means than a conveyance—differing only in providing refreshment (exclusive of spirituous liquors) to its frequenters. It is untrue to assert that a Royal Charter will enable the Company to open their grounds—for the right exists independent of the Charter. Government, therefore, cannot be said to sanction “the desecration of the Sabbath”—being unable to prevent it. The State has no right to refuse a privilege on religious grounds, seeing that it is a purely civil institution, and bound to secure entire liberty of conscience; which is inconsistent with partiality to the views of any sect. To spend the Sabbath as a day of recreation does not clash with its definition as “a civil institution.” In exacting the shutting-up of the Sydenham grounds, Government would be acting inequitably, for other and worse pleasure-gardens are open on Sunday—inconsistently, for the grounds of Hampton Court Palace, which are national property, have been for some years accessible to the people with their express sanction. It would not, therefore, be a precedent for “the desecration of the Sabbath.” If the Crystal Palace is closed on that day by authority, all other places of recreation must be closed also—for you cannot have partial legislation on the subject. Such a general measure would be highly unjust and injurious, besides being impracticable. The much-deprecated event would not be likely to increase the irreligion or immorality of the people; for, although some few might be led to desert places of worship and neglect Sabbath privileges, by the superior attractions of the Sydenham Palace, many more would substitute its pleasures for those of a less elevating character, offered without restriction elsewhere; while the bulk of those who frequented it would not, in all probability, if it were entirely closed, “keep the Sabbath” in the sense of these alarmists. The day of rest can only be a period of spiritual profit to those who value it for that purpose. To impose its religious observances upon those who do not, is to promote hypocrisy, not piety. For the religious world, confessedly a minority, to seek to impose, by State interference, their notions of what constitutes a day of rest upon the bulk of their fellow-countrymen, is intolerant—an act of coercion at variance with the first principles of Christianity. There is good reason for believing that the cause of morality, and therefore of religion, will, with the present tendencies of the metropolitan working-classes, decidedly gain by the opening of the Sydenham pleasure-grounds. It will be no more harmful than free access to the Parks. It will not rob the poor of their “day of rest,” because it is quite optional with them to go there; and, while they act as free agents, it may be presumed, that they spend the day as best suits their inclinations.
The Crystal Palace Company are well able to take care of themselves, nor does it form part of the plan of these pages to defend their cause. But the wholesale abuse which is heaped upon them is positively nauseating to the impartial observer, considering how far they have gone in attempting to meet religious scruples and prejudices.[15] The mingled rant and cant issuing from these professedly religious newspapers is extremely injurious to that Christianity in whose name they profess to speak. Sad would it be for religion if its holy claims were really associated with the untruthfulness these organs have uttered—and the more reason why those, who are jealous for the honour of their faith, should protest against its name being mixed up with the effusions of intemperate alarmists. From their spirit it might be thought that the Company had set the religious world at defiance, instead of shutting up for half the Sunday, closing the manufacturing and commercial portions of the building, and forbidding the sale of intoxicating drinks. If they are to blame, it is for conceding too much to prejudice. Nothing is gained by closing the grounds up to one o’clock—not even the good will of opponents. The principle which would allow them to be thrown open for half, would be equally valid to keep them open all, the day. At present, the arrangement is a mischievous compromise between devotion and recreation, and stamps the Sabbath on high authority with a continental character. It gives a wrong notion of godliness, bringing it into apparent antagonism to secular enjoyment—making one portion of the day a counterpoise to the other—fostering the delusion that religion is simply the observances of certain duties and attendance in a place of worship.
If there be any truth in this plain statement of facts and arguments, it follows that the agitation, being got up professedly to prevent the Crown from sanctioning the opening of the Crystal Palace on Sunday, is really directed against all places of recreation accessible to the public on that day. This, indeed, is the main drift of the declamatory appeals of its promoters. They are either agitating on false pretences, or covertly aiming at an object injurious to the liberties and welfare of the country. If that object were openly avowed, many timid friends of religious freedom who indulge certain vague fears of the increase of “Sabbath desecration,” would shrink from supporting it. In either case, the leaders prove their unfitness to be the guides of opinion. Want of candour, fairness, and truthfulness, are doubly worthy of exposure and condemnation when exhibited in connexion with the name of Christianity. Religion suffers enough from open foes, without the need for injuries from professed friends. Hence, because they are jealous of its true character, because anxious to vindicate its purity and self-sustaining efficiency, it becomes the followers of Christ to protest against this movement. The very fact that they agree to a great extent in the religious views of the agitators in question, and sincerely desire to see the Sabbath valued by all men as an opportunity for spiritual culture and enjoyment, is an additional reason why they should repudiate the sentiments uttered, and the course pursued, under the banner of their faith. The alarmists may rely upon it, that there are many more followers of Christian truth than the writer of these pages, who have no sympathy with that intolerance which would coerce others into their convictions and their method of “keeping” the Sabbath, and who observe, with pain and indignation, the attempt of misguided, though perhaps conscientious, men, to originate a crusade against the Sunday recreations of the people.
It is scarcely possible to discuss this particular topic without the mind being directed to the general question—of which it is only an offshoot— the position assumed by religious men in relation to the world at large, especially to the masses. A few considerations on this momentous subject may appropriately and usefully be thrown out in connexion with the foregoing arguments.
It may be at once stated, that there is no intention of entering into any argument with the believers in the efficacy of a State-appointed religion and priesthood. Those who encourage this practical infidelity to the truths of Christianity—whose principles would have obliged Christ to exclaim, “My kingdom is of this world”—are, doubtless, doing no violence to their views in calling upon Government to insist upon “the bitter observance of the Sabbath,” and to enforce upon Jews, Infidels, and Mahomedans, outward conformity to the State religion.
But it does so happen that many who are in bondage to this intolerant principle, do, nevertheless, somehow or other, acknowledge the transforming influence of Christian truth upon the individual heart, and are at one, in their religious convictions, with the open adherents of the voluntary principle. To this united body of what are usually designated “Evangelical Christians,” the question may fairly be put—whether they are pursuing that line of policy towards the world which is best adapted to bring the world over to their views?
Their object, next to their own spiritual improvement—for that seems the great aim of modern Christianity—is to commend the Gospel to those who have it not—to win over to hearts of men to the authority of Christ—to induce them to accept to the free offers of reconciliation with God made through to Saviour, and evermore live in His likeness. They will readily acknowledge that religion is founded upon love, and adapted to call forth to willing homage of grateful souls; and that the spontaneous, cheerful surrender of self to God, the preference of His will to ours, the cordial reliance upon Him for “every good and every perfect gift,” is the very essence of Christianity. Institutions, forms, and ceremonies, are but the media for expressing this truth, and are worse than useless without it. Sympathy between man and his Creator is religion—to awaken that sympathy in others, will be the aim of all who have felt it for themselves.
How, then, do Evangelical Christians commend this living truth to those who do not profess allegiance to it? To a great extent they conceal its benign character. They build a wall around it, and make it appear to be an exclusive property. Oftentimes they refuse to acknowledge it in others unless associated with certain forms, symbols, and institutions. They overlay it with the claims of this and that interest, or make it speak in the language of this or the other ism. They proclaim that the Gospel is omnipotent to save—that Christ’s kingdom is a spiritual kingdom, and His reign in the heart of man—but, alas! practice and belief do not correspond. They are, to a great extent, afraid to trust Christianity to its inherent power. For the propagation of the truth, or the extinction of unbelief, they will often have recourse to means not in harmony with their convictions. “The end sanctifies the means”—often, unconsciously, forms their rule of conduct, and quiets their scruples in trying to make men religious by irreligious means, in claiming the aid of the magistrate’s sword in putting down error, in demanding that the incitements to sin be removed by the strong arm of compulsion, yea, sometimes, in attempting to coerce the indifferent into the reception of to truth. How greatly does this want of confidence in the power of the Gospel contrast with that scriptural faith which is able “to remove mountains!”
A State religion is, no doubt, the greatest obstacle to a proper appreciation of Christianity by the working classes—for through that medium it is reflected as simply an elaborate machinery to provide comfortable incomes for an army of priests—a gigantic establishment based upon selfishness. But even this dead weight upon the progress of religion would be greatly lightened if Evangelical Christians rightly commended it to the affections of the people—if, instead of bowing down to the great imposture, and drinking into its spirit, they unceasingly displayed the benign and disinterested character of the Gospel. Whatever the religious organizations of the present day accomplish—and it is not denied that they do something—they do not seem to be capable of evangelizing the masses. To this objection it is no reply to urge that they never have, except to a small extent, effected that purpose. If true religion be what the religious world say it is, there must be, irrespective of all former experience, some lamentable deficiency in the mode of presenting its great and omnipotent truths to the people. For it is a notorious fact that the bulk of our working population do not care for religion, scarcely come within range of its teachings, and, for the most part, dislike its professional representatives. Is there not here something more than the natural aversion to superior goodness, and the preference for self-gratification?
Every one will have fresh in recollection a touching episode in that eminently religious book, “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” in which are detailed the successive steps in the training of a little outcast negro. Miss Ophelia undertook the benevolent task, and performed it only too conscientiously. No pains, no sacrifices, were spared in educating the benighted Topsy. The system of the Northern lady was perfect in its mechanism. Instruction, exhortation, reproof, punishment, followed in due order. The young mind exhibited unusual quickness and aptitude in the acquisition of knowledge. One element alone was wanting—the moral influence of the teacher. That being absent, all the rest seemed comparatively valueless. Between the upright New Englander, with her unflinching sense of duty and her prejudice against colour, and the hardened negro girl, there was no connecting link—an entire absence of affection and sympathy. Yet that moral waste on which the lady of strong sense and set rules could make no impression, was reclaimed by the kindness of a child. Topsy’s heart, steeled to Miss Ophelia’s exhortations, melted at Eva’s sympathy.[18]
This story fitly illustrates the present relationship of the Church and the world. Organised religious communities may establish their societies, may erect their places of worship, may give their lectures with the object of reclaiming the masses from vice and irreligion, may proclaim the sinfulness and the duties of men—and yet their labours may achieve only partial success. The means may be admirable, but the spirit that breathes through them may be defective. There may be a great show of concern, the conscientious performance of a duty, but an absence of that cordial, hearty interest which is requisite to kindle sympathy. Surely there is a philosophy in the use of religious agencies as in ordinary affairs. In our efforts to evangelize the poor—to whom originally the Gospel was preached, and amongst whom, it should never be forgotten, were its greatest triumphs—we are bound to consider the probable results of the means put in operation, as well as the end sought, unless we expect God to work a miracle. Otherwise, with all the elements of success, we may make no progress; and, perchance, pull down with one hand while we are building up with the other.
Is it reasonable, or at all in accordance with experience, to suppose that the way to reach the hearts of the people is to put ourselves into direct antagonism to their rights, habits, or wishes? Do we commend the Gospel to them by fostering the notion that men may be made religious by Act of Parliament, or the fiat of the Crown—by insisting that they shall “keep” the Sabbath according to our notions, not their own—by clamouring to curtail the means of obtaining pure air and recreation one day out of seven, because we consider it “sinful?” The religious world is absorbed with its “causes” and “interests,” “enjoyments” and “privileges;” and, while thus systematically turning its attention inwards, and calculating every pulsation of the great world around in relation to itself, is too apt to forget that there is a moral law whose foundations lie deep in the principles of revealed truth—and that any violation of the precepts of that law, whether by abrogating natural rights, dictating the actions and occupations of others, or coercing them into an apparent piety of heart and life, is altogether foreign to the genius of Christianity. Our Lord has given his followers an injunction to preach the Gospel—the power of which over the heart none who have felt it can mistrust. If by this agency, and this alone, the affections of man are to be changed and a new life created within him—if, in a word, the world is to be won over to the cause of truth, by the exhibition of God’s love—surely it indicates a want of worldly wisdom as well as distrust of the Divine power and promises, for the disciples of Christ to be calling to their aid extraneous help;—at one time relying upon the sword of the civil magistrates—at another on Parliamentary legislation. If its professors are to be believed, Christianity is ever in imminent danger. Between the encroachments of Popery and the progress of Infidelity, we are always in a state of chronic alarm for organized religion. Really it would seem, that if it were not for the frequent exercise of a little authority—that is, physical force, an occasional crusade against Popery, a persecution by society of free inquiry, the religious world would lose all confidence—Samson must inevitably be overcome by the seductions of Delilah or the hosts of the Philistines. It may safely be concluded that, where this faithlessness obtains, the power of the Gospel is deficient. Christianity is essentially aggressive, but, according to the experience of its degenerate disciples, it is hard work to act upon the defensive. Does not the outside world take note of these things? What more natural than that the sceptic and indifferent should doubt the alleged power of religion when such are its apparent manifestations—when, positively, any particular discovery of great advantage to mankind, such as the application of steam to locomotion, or any special event promising social benefit, such as the opening of the new Crystal Palace, fills its adherents with apprehension, because it seems to disturb their particular interests?
How is the great gulph that separates the masses of the people from religious institutions to be bridged over? Here is a problem worthy of the anxious consideration of the religious world. To treat so great a subject would require the compass of a volume instead of a pamphlet. Indeed, it has already been discussed in extenso by others; so that it is superfluous to do more in these pages, than refer to one or two points directly bearing on the question in hand. It may then be remarked, that to secure the required end it is needful not only to do, but that much must be left undone —especially in the direction of the poor man’s pleasures. If the Gospel be not taken to them they were better left alone; for interference with their rights only irritates them, and widens the gulph. The two forces will, as things go, move on like parallel lines, but never unite. The bulk of the people are far beyond the reach of such delusive palliatives as stopping Sunday trains, and shutting up tea-gardens and public-houses. The preacher’s voice rarely reaches them, and Christianity itself wears, in their eyes, the stigma of being a middle-class religion, not adapted to the poor, to whom originally it was “glad tidings of salvation.” They are, besides, almost ostracised from our religious assemblies. Talk of Sabbath desecration! Suppose working-men—say, for example, the 10,000 pleasure-seekers on the Croydon line—were to flock to our places of worship? What is to be done with them? There is at present no room for them in the system. It requires time and money to erect and consecrate steepled buildings, fashion pews, make cushions, choose a professional minister, and organize collections, &c. And when done, how does it suit the tastes and sympathies of the poor? Do they not feel themselves out of place, and suspect the means are made of importance disproportionate to, and even obstructive of, the end? Christianity appears to them entrenched behind a barricade of forms and creeds, and genteel requirements, which its followers have erected. The world without catches but a distant and imperfect glimpse of its benign features. Religious men prefer standing behind their entrenchments to an aggressive movement in front, or if they do advance it is with incumbrances great as those which impede an English army marching over the plains of India. Costly temples, with elegant spires, are becoming increasingly necessary to the proclamation of Divine truth, and, in not a few cases, pious men half sink under the sacrifices thus incurred, or the load of debt contracted. There is something quite affecting in the fact, that while the masses of the people are getting farther and farther off from the agency of religious institutions, Christians who are ever denouncing the external pomp and show of Popery are, as it were, concentrating their attention on genteel and elegant places of worship, and in all their arrangements for the celebration of religion approximating to the Romanist standard. And this—when a portion of such superfluous expenditure would provide means for carrying the Gospel into the ranks of the poor—is boasted of as a mark of taste—of Christian earnestness—of religious progress! Fatal delusion![21]
Men’s susceptibilities are the same as ever they were—but how to awaken them? The religious world will find it in the career and directions of their great Exemplar, not in the bearing of the Pharisees. The grand truth embodied in the aphorism of our great dramatist—
“One touch of Nature Makes the whole world kin,”
has a spiritual as well as a social meaning. To recur to our former illustration. A child with love in her heart and sympathy in her eye, may subdue the will when reason and authority utterly fail. By approaching the masses in this spirit, the religious world may gain access to their affections, and will, no doubt, find that the Gospel retains its pristine omnipotence. But if they are to be treated as the patrimony of organized religious societies and institutions, to be “cribbed, cabined, and confined” at their pleasure, and admonished from afar off on the sinfulness of Sunday recreation—if the enormities of Popery are more zealously denounced, and hair-splitting differences agitated, by ministers and their flocks, than THE TRUTH preached “ in the love of it ”—farewell to all hopes of making any substantial progress in evangelizing the great bulk of the working classes![22]
By such movements as that we have objected to, the poor are being driven farther off from Christianity. Suppose this particular Sabbatarian agitation to be successful, where is the gain to religion? Will it not be associated in the minds of those already out of reach of the preaching of the Gospel, with a dog-in-the-manger meddlesomeness, with the claims of rival systems, and the designs of interested priests? What an encouragement would it be to that party represented by the “Lord’s Day Society,” who would avowedly use their triumph as a stepping-stone to further demands—who would stop all trains and conveyances on the Sabbath, except, perhaps, the carriage of the rich—who would ruthlessly sacrifice the health of the working-man by confining him to the filth and closeness of this wilderness of bricks and mortar, and who would erect over the remains of pure and gentle Christianity, a gigantic system of hypocrisy and formalism which would ill conceal the hatred and disgust of all classes for a religion without heart or sincerity!
To treat the working-classes in the spirit of those who are fomenting this agitation, is unjust and cruel, as well as impolitic. The point has been before adverted to, but will bear amplification. Suppose the Rev. Mr. Orthodox, the popular preacher of the West End, discussing this question of “Sabbath desecration” in the squalid apartment (if ever he has found his way there) of John Starveling, the overworked slop-tailor, of Typhus Court, Westminster. To the weighty arguments of the wealthy rector, on the necessity of shutting up all railways and stopping all conveyances, may not the poor underpaid artizan reply, that the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath—that God requires mercy, not sacrifice—that the Sunday trip is to him the safety valve of life—that so long as he is obliged to work for six days out of seven, without intermission, to keep body and soul together, the seventh must be devoted to renovation. Let the charge of mammon-worship rest on the right shoulders. If the Crystal Palace Company, who enable this poor man to inhale the pure air and enjoy the beauties of nature, are actuated by sordid motives, how much more are they—and their name is legion—who allow their passion for money-getting to reduce thousands to a life of slavery, and oblige them to regard Sunday not as the Lord’s Day, but only an opportunity to repair their wasted health and energies.
There is not much doubt or danger in the conclusion that whatever tends to ameliorate the condition of the people, to ennoble their tastes, to expand their ideas, or to improve their physical well-being, opens a more favourable field for the influence of religion. The converse of this truth will be seen in the almost hopelessly-irreclaimable state of the adult “dangerous” classes. Religious bodies mistake in shaping their plans as if there were no medium, looked at from a Christian point of view, between the lowest depths of depraved self-indulgence, and the pure aspirations of devotion. They are not exempt from recognising the truth, that all physical, social, and political improvements, as well as the consistency, meekness, and gentleness of the followers of the Gospel, have a bearing upon the spiritual destinies of mankind. When will they cordially acknowledge in their creed that the man who discountenances the mammon-grasping spirit of the age—who promotes the education of the poor—who advocates a reform of prison discipline—who helps to sweeten an unwholesome neighbourhood—who encourages pure and healthy recreation, is doing more to prepare a soil favourable for the reception of religious truth, and to break down the barriers which interpose between the working classes and the religious world than the No-Popery agitator, the loud-mouthed denouncer of “Sabbath desecration,” or the zealous stickler for outward uniformity and formal observances? The one is doing something to repair dilapidated humanity—the other is interposing fresh obstacles to that great desideratum.
FOOTNOTES.
[6] We have diligently read all we have been able to lay our hands upon in favour of the agitation—but only one out of what may be called the “religious newspapers”—the Nonconformist —has, so far as we are aware, discountenanced it. Still it is to be borne in mind that this seeming unanimity is by no means indicative of the same feeling amongst intelligent Evangelicals, in whom a liberalizing leaven is largely at work.
[7] The Divided Sabbath. Remarks concerning the Crystal Palace, now erecting at Sydenham. By the Rev. Wm. Jowett, M.A. London: Seeleys.
[12] The Sabbatarians can scarcely be aware that the Croydon Railway Company now often carry as many as 10,000 pleasure-seekers up and down their line on Sunday.
[15] One journal calls them “the devil’s caterers.”
[18] This beautiful episode has been quoted with admiration by some newspapers, which, if the truth wrapped up in it had been invested with the folds of modern religionism, would, doubtless, have described it as fanaticism. So much depends upon the shape and spirit in which religion is presented. May not some portion of the aversion set down to the thing sometimes result from the mode of its presentation?
[21] This statement may be set down as an exaggeration of the facts. It was, however suggested to the mind of the writer, by the perusal of a striking speech of the Rev. Dr. Campbell’s, at a recent meeting in Manchester, in aid of a Jubilee Fund for the Sunday School Union. In the course of his address, he adverted to “the terrible fact” that if the clergy of all denominations, and the city missionaries, with all their converts and adherents, were removed from the great metropolis, “the blank thereby created would not be very great.” He went on to say that “adult conversions” in London and England were “a rare thing,” and to describe the class as “sealed, unapproachable, unimpressible.” He proceeded in the following strain:—“Were you to multiply your ministers, both Church and Dissent, with real evangelical men, and to build edifices so that each thousand of our adult population should command for its service—if it choose to avail itself of it—such clergymen, or minister, it would very slightly alter the case . . . I have no hesitation in saying, that, unless some other agency than the public ministration of the Word is brought actively into operation, even if we had such an assemblage of gifts and talents concentred in our preachers as the world never saw, we could not do much.” His hope lay only in the influence of Sunday Schools upon the minds of the young.
[22] The writer does not deem the tenour of the above arguments inconsistent with a belief in the fact that the major part of whatever good is done in this world for elevating fallen humanity, socially or religiously, results from the self-denying efforts of pious men. While others talk they act. They deserve all honour for what they accomplish, but have no claim, on that account, to be exempted from fair comment. These strictures will, no doubt, be set down to a censorious spirit, and not unlikely the writer will be denounced as an enemy in disguise. This, however, is the lot of all reformers and objectors to things as they are. For its own sake, irrespectively of the general principle, the Christian Church ought to value the right of free discussion. Honest criticism of a good cause, is much more to be desired than undiscriminating praise. It is a mournful fact, and in itself a sure symptom of unhealthiness, that there is scarcely a religious magazine or newspaper which dare venture to give utterance to such sentiments as are contained in this pamphlet. The outcry raised against the candid expression of opinion has these, amongst others, injurious effects—it perpetuates corruption, it drives intelligent young men away from religious societies, and it furnishes unbelievers with a cogent argument against the Gospel. God grant that the Christian Church may put away this mischievous intolerance, and pursue their mission with a greater breadth of plan, wisdom of purpose, toleration of differences, and economy of means.