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CHURCH AND STATE.'
[EDINBURah Review For April, 1839.]
. The author of this volume is a young man of unblemished character and of distinguished parliamentary talents, the rising hope of those stern and unbending Tories, who follow, reluctantly and mutinously, a leader, whose experience and eloquence are indispensable to them, but whose cautious temper and moderate opinions they abhor. It would not be at all strange if Mr. Gladstone were one of the most unpopular men in England. But we believe that we do him no more than justice when we say, that his abilities and his demeanour have obtained for him the respect and good-will of
all parties. His first appearance in the cha
racter of an author is therefore an interesting event; and it is natural that the gentle wishes of the public should go with him to his trial. We are much pleased, without any reference to the soundness or unsoundness of Mr. Gladstone's theories, to see a grave and elaborate treatise on an important part of the philosophy of government proceed from the pen of a young man who is rising to eminence in the ouse of Commons. There is little danger o people engaged in the conflicts of active life will be too much addicted to general speculation. The opposite vice is that which most easily besets them. The times and tides of business and debate tarry for no man. A politician must of en talk and act before he has thought and read. He may be very ill-informed respecting a quest“n ; all his notions about it may be vague and inaccurate; but speak he must ; and if he is a man of talents, of tact, and of intrepidity, ne soon finds that, even under such circumstances, it is possible to speak successfully. He finds that there is a great difference between the effect of written words, which are perused and reperused in the stillness of the closet, and the effect of spoken words, which, set off by the graces of utterance and gesture, vibrate for a single moment on the ear. He finds that he may blunder without much chance of being detected, that he may reason sophistically, and escape unrefuted. He finds that, even on knotty questions of trade and legislation, he can, without reading ten pages, or thinking ten minutes, draw forth loud plaudits, and sit down with the credit of having made an excellent speech. Lysias, says Plutarch, wrote a defence for a man who was to be tried before one of the Athenian tribunals. Long before the defendant had learned the speech by heart, he became so much dissatisfied with it, that he went in great distress to the author. “I was delighted with your speech the first time I read it; but I liked
• The state in its relations with the Church. By W. E. GLApston E, Esq., Student of Christchurch, and M. P. for Newark 8vo. Second edition. London. 1839.
it less the second time, and still less the third time; and now it seems to me to be no defence . at all.” “My good friend.” said Lysias, “you quite forget that the judges are to hear it only once.” The case is the same in the English Parliament. It would be as idle in an orator to waste deep meditation and long research on his speeches, as it would be in the manager of a theatre to adorn all the crowd of courtiers and ladies who cross over the stage in a procession with real pearls and diamonds. It is not by accuracy or profundity that men become the masters of great assemblies. And why he at the charge of providing logic of the best quality, when a very inferior article will be equaliy acceptable Why go as deep into a question as Burke, only in order to be, like Burke, coughed down, or est speaking to green benches and red boxes : This has long appeared to us to be the most serious of the evils which are to be set off against the many bless: ings of popular government. It is a fine and true saying of Bacon, that reading makes a full man, talking a ready man, and writing an exact man. The tendency of institutions like those of England is to encourage readiness in public men, at the expense both of fulness and of exactness. The keenest and most vigorous minds of every generation, minds often admi- " rably fitted for the investigation of truth, are habitually employed in producing arguments, such as no man of sense would ever put into a treatise intended for publication,--arguments which are just good enough to be used once, when aided by fluent delivery and pointed lan. guage. The habit of discussing questions in this way necessarily reacts on the intelligence of our ablest men, particularly of those who are introduced into Parliament at a very early age, before their minds have expanded to full maturity. The talent for debate is developed in such men to a degree which, to the multitude, seems as marvellous as the performances of an Italian improvisatore. But they are fortunate, indeed, if they retain unimpaired the faculties which are required for close reasoning or for enlarged speculation. Indeed, we should sooner expect a great original work on political science—such a work, for example, as the “Wealth of Nations”—from an apothecary in a country town, or from a minister in the Hebrides, than from a statesman who, ever since he was one-and-twenty, had been a distinguished debater in the House of Commons. We therefore hail with pleasure, though as: suredly not with unmixed pleasure, the appearance of this work. That a young politician should, in the intervals afforded by his parliamentary avocations, have constructed and propounded, with much study and mental toil, an original theory on a great problem in politics,
is a circumstance which, abstracted from all consideration of the soundness or unsoundness of his opinions, must be considered as highly creditable to him. We certainly cannot wish that Mr. Gladstone's doctrines may become fashionable among public men. But we heartily wish that his laudable desire to penetrate beneath the surface of questions, and to arrive, by long and intent meditation, at the knowledge of great general laws, were much more fashionable than we at all expect it to become. Mr. Gladstone seems to us to be, in many respects, exceedingly well qualified for philosophical investigation. His mind is of large grasp; nor is he deficient in dialectical skill. But he does not give his intellect fair play. There is no want of light, but a great want of what Bacon would have called dry light. Whatever Mr. Gladstone sees is refracted and distorted by a false medium of passions and prejudices. His style bears a remarkable analogy to his mode of thinking, and indeed exercises great influence on his mode of thinking. His rhetoric, though often good of its kind, darkens and perplexes the logic which it should illustrate. Half his acuteness and diligence, with a barren imagination and a scanty vocabulary, would have saved him from almost all his mistakes. He has one gift most dangerous to a speculator, a vast command of a kind of language, grave and majestic, but of vague and uncertain import, of a kind of language which affects us much in the same way in which the lofty diction of the chorus of Clouds affected the simple-hearted Athenian.
When propositions have been established, and nothing remains but to amplify and decorate them, this dim magnificence may be in place. But if it is admitted into a demonstration, it is very much worse than absolute nonsense;--just as that transparent haze through which the sailor sees capes and mountains of false sizes and in false bearings, is more dangerous than utter darkness. Now, Mr. Gladstone is fond of employing the phraseology of which we speak in those parts of his work which require the utmost perspicuity and precision of which human language is capable, and in this way he deludes first himself, and then his readers. The foundations of his theory, which ought to be buttresses of adamant, are made out of the flimsy materials which are fit only for perorations. This fault is one which no subsequent care or industry can correct. The more strictly Mr. Gladstone reasons on his premises, the more absurd are the conclusions which he brings out; and when at last his good sense and good nature recoil from the horrible practical inferences to which his theory leads, he is reduced sometimes ‘o take refuge in arguments inconsistent with his fundamental doctrines; and sometimes to escape from the legitimate conse
quences of his false principles under cover
signs of much patient thought. It is written throughout with excellent taste and excellent temper; nor is it, so far as we have observed, disfigured by one expression unworthy of a gentleman, a scholar, or a Christian. But the doctrines which are put forth in it appear to us, after full and calm consideration, to be false; to be in the highest degree pernicious; to be such as, if followed out in practice to their legitimate consequences, would inevitably produce the dissolution of society; and for this opinion we shall proceed to give our reasons with that freedom which the importance of the subject requires, and which Mr. Gladstone both by precept and by example invites us to use, but, we hope, without rudeness, and, we are sure, without malevolence. Before we enter on an examination of this theory, we wish to guard ourselves against one misconception. It is possible that some persons who have read Mr. Gladstone's book carelessly, and others who have merely heard in conversation or seen in a newspaper that the member for Newark has written in defence of the Church of England against the supporters of the Voluntary System, may imagine that we are writing in defence of the Voluntary System, and that we desire the abolition of the Established Church. This is not the case. It would be as unjust to accuse us of attacking the Church because we attack Mr. Gladstone's doctrines, as it would-be to accuse Locke of wishing for anarchy because he refuted Filmer's patriarchal theory of government; or to accuse Blackstone of recommending the confiscation of ecclesiastical property because he denied that the right of the rector to tithe was derived from the Levitical law. It is to be observed that Mr. Gladstone rests his case on entirely new grounds, and does not differ more widely from us than from some of those who have hitherto been considered as the most illustrious champions of the Church. He is Lot content with the “Ecclesiastical Polity,” and rejoices that the latter part of that celebrated work “does not carry with it the weight of Hooker's plenary authority.” He is not content with Bishop Warburton’s “Alliance of Church and State.” “The propositions of that work generally,” he says, “are to be received with qualification;" and he agrees with Bolingbroke in thinking that Warburton's whole theory rests upon a fiction. He is still less satisfied with Paley's “Defence of the Church,” which he pronounces to be “tainted by ths original vice of false ethical principles,” and “full of the seeds of evil.” He conceives that Dr. Chalmers has taken a partial view of the subject, and “put forth much questionable matter.” In truth, on almost every point on which we are opposed to Mr. Gladstone, we have on our side the authority of some divine, eminent as a defender of existing establishments. Mr. Gladstone's whole theory rests on this
great fundamental proposition—that the Propagation of Religious Truth is one of the prin|cipal ends of government, as government. 1" Mr. Gladstone has not proved thus proposition, his system vanishes at once. We are desirous, before we enter on the dis cussion of this important question, to point out
clearly a distinction which, though very obvicus, seems to be overlooked by many excellent people. In their opinion, to say that the ends of government are temporal and not spiritual, is tantamount to saying that the temporal welfare of man is of more importance than his spiritual welfare. But this is an entire mistake. The question is not whether spiritual interests be or be not superior in importance to temporal interests, but whether the machinery which happens at any moment to be employed for the purpose of protecting certain temporal interests of a society, be necessarily such a machinery as is fitted to promote the spiritual interests of that society. It is certain that without a division of duties the world could not go on. It is of very much more importance that men should have food than that they should have pianofortes. Yet it by no means follows that every pianoforte-maker ought to add the business of a baker to his own; for is he did so, we should have both much
that of one man, against any other society which may offer us injury—these are propositions which will hardly be disputed. Now these are matters in which man, without any reference to any higher being or to any future state, is very deeply interested. Every man, be he idolater, Mohammedan, Jew, Papist, Socinian, Deist, or Atheist, naturally loves life, shrinks from pain, desires those comforts which can be cajoyed only in communities where property is secure. To be murdered, to be tortured, to be robbed, to be sold into slavery, to be exposed to the outrages of gangs of foreign banditti calling themselves patriots—these are evidently evils from which inen of every religion and men of no religion wish to be protected; and therefore it will hardly be disputed that men of every religion and of no religion have thus far a common interest in being well governed. But the hopes and fears of man are not
limited to this short life and to this visible world. He finds himself surrounded by the signs of a power and wisdom higher than his own; and, in all ages and nations, men of all orders of intellect, from Bacon and Newton down to the rudest tribes of cannibals, have believed in the existence of some superior mind. Thus far the voice of mankind is almost unanimous. But whether there be one God or many—what may be his natural and what his moral attributes—in what relation his creatures stand to him—whether he have ever disclosed himself to us by any other revelation than that which is written in all the parts of the glorious and well-ordered world which he has made—whether his revelation be contained in any permanent record—how that record should be interpreted, and whether it have pleased him to appoint any unerring interpreter on earth—these are questions respecting which there exists the widest diversity of opinion, and respecting which the great majority of our race has, ever since the dawn of regular history, been deplorably in error. Now here are two great objects:–One is the protection of the persons and estates of citizens from injury; the other is the propagation of religious truth. No two objects more entirely distinct can well be imagined. The former belongs wholly to the visible and tangible world in which we live; the latter belongs to that higher world which is beyond the reach of our senses. The former belongs to this life; the latter to that which is to come. Men who are perfectly agreed as to the importance of the former object, and as to the way of attaining it, differ as widely as possible respecting the latter object. We must therefore pause before we admit that the persons, be they whe they may, who are intrusted with power for the promotion of the former object, ought al. ways to use that power for the promotion of the latter object. Mr. Gladstone conceives that the duties of governments are paternal;-a doctrine which we will not believe till he can show us some government which loves its subjects as a sather loves a child, and which is as superiorin intelligence to its subjects as a father is superior to a child. He tells us, in lofty, though somewhat indistinct language, that “Government occupies in moral the place of ro ray in physical science.” If government be indeed to ray in moral science, we do not understand why rulers should not assume all the functions which "Plato assigned to them. Why should they not take away the child from the mother, select the nurse, regulate the school, overlook the play-ground, fix the hours of labour and of recreation, prescribe what ballads shall be sung, what tunes shall be played; what books shall be read, what physic shall be swallowed! —why should not they choose our wives, limit our expenses, and stint us to a certain number of dishes, of glasses of wine, and of cups of tea? Plato, whose hardihood in speculation was perhaps more wonderful than any other peculiarity of his extraordinary mind, and who" shrank from nothing to which his principles led, went this whole length. Mr. Gladstone is not so intrepid. He contents himself with lay” the body which in any community is employed to protect the persons and property of men, that body ought also, in its corporate capacity, to profess a religion, to employ its power for the propagation of that religion, and to require conformity to that religion, as an indispensable qualification for all civil office. He distinctly declares that he does not in this proposition confine his view to orthodox governments, or even to Christian governments, The circumstance that a religion is false does not, he tells us, diminish the obligation of governors, as such, to uphold it. If they neglect to do so, “we cannot,” he says, “but regard the fact as aggravating the case of the holders of such creed.” “I do not scruple to affirm,” he adds, “that if a Mohammedan conscientiously believes his religion to come from God, and to teach divine truth, he must believe that truth to be beneficial, and beneficial beyond all other things to the soul of man; and he must, therefore, and ought to desire its extension, and to use for its extension all proper and legitimate means; and that, if such Mohammedan be a prince, he ought to count among those means the application of whatever influence or funds he may lawfully have at his disposal for such purposes.”
* ing down this proposition—that, whatever be can only be secured for right uses by applying
Surely this is a hard saying. Before we admit that the Emperor Julian, in employing his power for the extinction of Christianity, was doing no more than his duty—before we admit that the Arian, Theodoric, would have committed a crime if he had suffered a single believer in the divinity of Christ to hold any civil employment in Italy—before we admit that the Dutch government is bound to exclude from office all members of the Church of England; the King of Bavaria to exclude from office all Protestants; the Great Turk to exclude from office all Christians; the King of Ava to exclude from office all who hold the unity of God—we think ourselves entitled to demand very full and accurate demonstration. When the consequences of a doctrine are so startling, we may well require that its foundations shall be very solid.
The following paragraph is a specimen of the arguments by which Mr. Gladstone has, as he conceives, established his great fundamental proposition:
to them a religion.”
Here are propositions of vast and indefinite extent, conveyed in language which has a cer. tain obscure dignity and sanctity, attractive, we doubt not, to many minds. But the moment that we examine these propositions closely,–the moment that we bring them to the test by running over but a very few of the particulars which are included in them, we find them to be false and extravagant. This doctrine which “must surely command universal assent” is, that every association of human beings, which exercises any power whatever, that is to say, every association of human beings, is bound, as such association, to profess a religion. Imagine the effect which would follow if this principle were really in force during four-and-twenty hours. Take one instance out of a million:—A stagecoach company has power over its horses. This power is the property of God. It is used according to the will of God when it is used with mercy. But the principle of mercy can never be truly or permanently entertained in the human breast without continual reference to God. The powers, therefore, that dwell in individuals acting as a stage-coach company, can only be secured for right uses by applying to them a religion. Every stage-coach company ought, therefore, in its collective capacity, to profess some one faith—to have its articles, and its public worship, and its tests. That this conclusion, and an infinite number of conclusions equally strange, follow of necessity from Mr. Gladstone's principle, is as certain as it is that two and two make four. And if the legitimate conclusions be so absurd, there must be something unsound in the principle.
We will quote another passage of the same sort :
“Why, then, we now come to ask, should the governing body in a state profess a religion? F.rst, because it is composed of individual men; and they, being appointed to act in a definite moral capacity, must sanctify their acts done in that capacity by the offices of religion; inasmuch as the acts cannot otherwise be acceptable to God, or any thing but sinful and punishable in themselves. And whenever we turn our face away from God in our conduct, we are living atheistically. . . . . . . In fulfilment, then, of his obligations as an individual, the statesman must be a worshipping man. But his acts are public—the powers and instruments with which he works are public– acting under and by the authority of the law, he moves at his word ten thousand subject arms; and because such energies are thus essentially public, and wholly out of the range of mere individual agency, they must be sanctified not only by the private personal prayers and piety of those who fill public situations, but also by public acts of the men composing the public body. They must offer prayer and praise in their public and collective character —in that character wherein they constitute the organ of the nation, and wield its collected force. Whenever there is a reasoning agency o there is a moral duty and responsibility involved in in The governors are reasoning agents for the nation, in their conjoint acts as such. And therefore there must be attached to this agency, as that without which none of our responsibilities can be met, a religion. And this religion must be that of the conscience of the governor, or none.”
Here again we find propositions of immense extent, and of sound so orthodox and solemn, that many good people, we doubt not, have been greatly edified by it. But let us examine the words closely, and it will immediately become plain, that if these principles be once admitted, there is an end of all society. No combination can be formed for any purpose "of mutual help, for trade, for public works, for the relief of the sick or the poor, for the promotion of art or science, unless the members of the combination agree in their theological opinions. Take any such combination at random—the London and Birmingham Railway Company, for example—and observe to what consequences Mr. Gladstone's arguments inevitably lead. “Why should the Directors of the Railway Company, in their collective ca§. profess a religion? First, because the irection is composed of individual men ap!. to act in a definite moral capacity— ound to look carefully to the property, the limbs, and the lives of their fellow creatures— bound to act diligently for their constituents— bound to govern their servants with humanity and justice—bound to fulfil with fidelity many important contracts. They must, therefore, sanctify their acts by the offices of religion, or these acts will be sinful and punishable in themselves. In fulfilment, then, of his obligations as an individual, the Director of the London and Birmingham Railway Company must be a worshipping man. But his acts are public. He acts for a body. He moves at his word ten thousand subject arms. And because these energies are out of the range of his mere individual agency, they must be sanctified by public acts of devotion. The Railway Directors must offer prayer and praise in their public and collective character, in that character where with they constitute the organ of the Company, and wield its collected power." Wherever there is reasoning agency, there is moral responsibility. The Directors are reasoning agents for the Company. And therefore there must be attached to this agency, as that without which none of our responsibilities can be met——a religion. And this religion must be that of the conscience of the Director himself, or none. There must be public worship and a test. No Jew, no Socinian, no Presbyterian, no Catholic, no Quaker, must be permitted to be the organ of the Company, and to wield its collected force.” Would Mr. Gladstone really defend this proposition ? We are sure that he would not; but we are sure that to this proposition, and to innumerable similar propositions, his reasoning inevitably leads.
recognition of the doctrine of national personality can justify. National honour and good faith are words in every one's mouth. How do they less imply a personality in nations than the duty towards God, for which we now contend? They are strictly and essentially
distinct from the honour and good faith of the individuals composing the nation. France is a person to us, and we to her. A wilful injury done to her is a moral act, and a moral act quite distinct from the acts of all the individu
als composing the nation. Upon broad facts like these we may rest, without resorting to the more technical proof which the laws afford in their manner of dealing with corporations. If, then, a nation have unity of will, have pervading sympathies, have the capability of reward and suffering contingent upon its acts, shall we deny its responsibility; its need of religion to meet that responsibility ? . . . . . A nation, then, having a personality, lies under the obligation, like the individuals composing its governing body, of sanctifying the acts of that personality by the offices of religion, and thus
we have a new and imperative ground for the existence of a state religion.”
A new ground, certainly, but whether very imperative may be doubted. Is it not perfectly clear, that this argument applies with exactly as much force to every combination of human beings for a common purpose, as to governments Is there any such combination in the world, whether technically a corporation or not, which has not this collective personality from which Mr. Gladstone deduces such extraordinary consequences? Look at banks, insurance offices, dock companies, canal companies, gas companies, hospitals, dispensaries, associations for the relief of the poor, associations for apprehending malefactors, associations of medical pupils for procuring subjects, associations of country gentlemen for keeping foxhounds, book societies, benefit societies, clubs of all ranks, from those which have lined PallMall and St. James's Street with their palaces, down to the “Free-and-easy” which meets in the shabby parlour of a village inn. Is there a single one of these combinations to which Mr. Gladstone's argument will not apply as well as to the State 1 In all these combinations—in the Bank of England, for example, or in the Athenæum Club—the will and agency of the society are one, and bind the dissentient minority. The Bank and the Athenaeum have a good faith and a justice different from the good faith and justice of the individual mem." bers. The Bank is a person to those who deposit bullion with it. The Athenaeum is a person to the butcher and the wine-merchant. If the Athenaeum keeps money at the Bank, the two societies are as much persons to each other as England and France. Either society may increase in prosperity; either may f into difficulties. If, then, they have this unity of will; if they are capable of doing and suffering good and evil, can we, to use Mr. Glad.
stone's words, “deny their responsibility, or their need of a religion to meet that respons: bility 4” Joint-stock banks, therefore,
clubs, “having a personality, lie under the no