CHAPTER XXXI.
"NEITHER IN THIS MOUNTAIN NOR AT JERUSALEM."
The next morning, it being again necessary for Edith to report at herpost of duty, I accompanied her to the railway station. While we stoodwaiting for the train my attention was drawn to a distinguished-lookingman who alighted from an incoming car. He appeared by nineteenth-centurystandards about sixty years old, and was therefore presumably eighty orninety, that being about the rate of allowance I have found it necessaryto make in estimating the ages of my new contemporaries, owing to theslower advent of signs of age in these times. On speaking to Edith ofthis person I was much interested when she informed me that he was noother than Mr. Barton, whose sermon by telephone had so impressed me onthe first Sunday of my new life, as set forth in Looking Backward. Edithhad just time to introduce me before taking the train.
As we left the station together I said to my companion that if he wouldexcuse the inquiry I should be interested to know what particular sect orreligious body he represented.
"My dear Mr. West," was the reply, "your question suggests that my friendDr. Leete has not probably said much to you about the modern way ofregarding religious matters."
"Our conversation has turned but little on that subject," I answered,"but it will not surprise me to learn that your ideas and practices arequite different from those of my day. Indeed, religious ideas andecclesiastical institutions were already at that time undergoing suchrapid and radical decomposition that it was safe to predict if religionwere to survive another century it would be under very different formsfrom any the past had known."
"You have suggested a topic," said my companion, "of the greatestpossible interest to me. If you have nothing else to do, and would liketo talk a little about it, nothing would give me more pleasure."
Upon receiving the assurance that I had absolutely no occupation exceptto pick up information about the twentieth century, Mr. Barton said:
"Let us then go into this old church, which you will no doubt havealready recognized as a relic of your time. There we can sit comfortablywhile we talk, amid surroundings well fitted to our theme."
I then perceived that we stood before one of the last-century churchbuildings which have been preserved as historical monuments, and,moreover, as it oddly enough fell out, that this particular church was noother than the one my family had always attended, and I as well--that is,whenever I attended any church, which was not often.
"What an extraordinary coincidence!" exclaimed Mr. Barton, when I toldhim this; "who would have expected it? Naturally, when you revisit a spotso fraught with affecting associations, you will wish to be alone. Youmust pardon my involuntary indiscretion in proposing to turn in here."
"Really," I replied, "the coincidence is interesting merely, not at allaffecting. Young men of my day did not, as a rule, take their churchrelations very seriously. I shall be interested to see how the old placelooks. Let us go in, by all means."
The interior proved to be quite unchanged in essential particulars sincethe last time I had been within its walls, more than a century before.That last occasion, I well remembered, had been an Easter service, towhich I had escorted some pretty country cousins who wanted to hear themusic and see the flowers. No doubt the processes of decay had renderednecessary many restorations, but they had been carried out so as topreserve completely the original effects.
Leading the way down the main aisle, I paused in front of the family pew.
"This, Mr. Barton," I said, "is, or was, my pew. It is true that I am alittle in arrears on pew rent, but I think I may venture to invite you tosit with me."
I had truly told Mr. Barton that there was very little sentimentconnected with such church relations as I had maintained. They wereindeed merely a matter of family tradition and social propriety. But inanother way I found myself not a little moved, as, dropping into myaccustomed place at the head of the pew, I looked about the dim andsilent interior. As my eye roved from pew to pew, my imagination calledback to life the men and women, the young men and maidens, who had beenwont of a Sunday, a hundred years before, to sit in those places. As Irecalled their various activities, ambitions, hopes, fears, envies, andintrigues, all dominated, as they had been, by the idea of moneypossessed, lost, or lusted after, I was impressed not so much with thepersonal death which had come to these my old acquaintances as by thethought of the completeness with which the whole social scheme in whichthey had lived and moved and had their being had passed away. Not onlywere they gone, but their world was gone, and its place knew it no more.How strange, how artificial, how grotesque that world had been!--and yetto them and to me, while I was one of them, it had seemed the onlypossible mode of existence.
Mr. Barton, with delicate respect for my absorption, waited for me tobreak the silence.
"No doubt," I said, "since you preserve our churches as curiosities, youmust have better ones of your own for use?"
"In point of fact," my companion replied, "we have little or no use forchurches at all."
"Ah, yes! I had forgotten for the moment that it was by telephone I heardyour sermon. The telephone, in its present perfection, must indeed havequite dispensed with the necessity of the church as an audience room."
"In other words," replied Mr. Barton, "when we assemble now we need nolonger bring our bodies with us. It is a curious paradox that while thetelephone and electroscope, by abolishing distance as a hindrance tosight and hearing, have brought mankind into a closeness of sympatheticand intellectual rapport never before imagined, they have at the sametime enabled individuals, although keeping in closest touch witheverything going on in the world, to enjoy, if they choose, a physicalprivacy, such as one had to be a hermit to command in your day. Ouradvantages in this respect have so far spoiled us that being in a crowd,which was the matter-of-course penalty you had to pay for seeing orhearing anything interesting, would seem too dear a price to pay foralmost any enjoyment."
"I can imagine," I said, "that ecclesiastical institutions must have beenaffected in other ways besides the disuse of church buildings, by thegeneral adaptation of the telephone system to religious teaching. In myday, the fact that no speaker could reach by voice more than a smallgroup of hearers made it necessary to have a veritable army ofpreachers--some fifty thousand, say, in the United States alone--in orderto instruct the population. Of these, not one in many hundreds was aperson who had anything to utter really worth hearing. For example, wewill say that fifty thousand clergymen preached every Sunday as manysermons to as many congregations. Four fifths of these sermons were poor,half of the rest perhaps fair, some of the others good, and a few score,possibly, out of the whole really of a fine class. Now, nobody, ofcourse, would hear a poor discourse on any subject when he could just aseasily hear a fine one, and if we had perfected the telephone system tothe point you have, the result would have been, the first Sunday afterits introduction, that everybody who wanted to hear a sermon would haveconnected with the lecture rooms or churches of the few widely celebratedpreachers, and the rest would have had no hearers at all, and presentlyhave been obliged to seek new occupations."
Mr. Barton was amused. "You have, in fact, hit," he said, "upon themechanical side of one of the most important contrasts between your timesand ours--namely, the modern suppression of mediocrity in teaching,whether intellectual or religious. Being able to pick from the choicestintellects, and most inspired moralists and seers of the generation,everybody of course agrees in regarding it a waste of time to listen toany who have less weighty messages to deliver. When you consider that allare thus able to obtain the best inspiration the greatest minds can give,and couple this with the fact that, thanks to the universality of thehigher education, all are at least pretty good judges of what is best,you have the secret of what might be called at once the strongestsafeguard of the degree of civilization we have attained, and the surestpledge of the highest possible rate of progress toward ever betterconditions--namely, the leadership of moral and intellectual genius. Toone like you, edu
cated according to the ideas of the nineteenth centuryas to what democracy meant, it may seem like a paradox that theequalizing of economic and educational conditions, which has perfecteddemocracy, should have resulted in the most perfect aristocracy, orgovernment by the best, that could be conceived; yet what result could bemore matter-of-course? The people of to-day, too intelligent to be misledor abused for selfish ends even by demigods, are ready, on the otherhand, to comprehend and to follow with enthusiasm every better leading.The result is, that our greatest men and women wield to-day an unselfishempire, more absolute than your czars dreamed of, and of an extent tomake Alexander's conquests seem provincial. There are men in the worldwho when they choose to appeal to their fellow-men, by the bareannouncement are able to command the simultaneous attention of one tofive or eight hundred millions of people. In fact, if the occasion be agreat one, and the speaker worthy of it, a world-wide silence reigns asin their various places, some beneath the sun and others under the stars,some by the light of dawn and others at sunset, all hang on the lips ofthe teacher. Such power would have seemed, perhaps, in your daydangerous, but when you consider that its tenure is conditional on thewisdom and unselfishness of its exercise, and would fail with the firstfalse note, you may judge that it is a dominion as safe as God's."
"Dr. Leete," I said, "has told me something of the way in which theuniversality of culture, combined with your scientific appliances, hasmade physically possible this leadership of the best; but, I beg yourpardon, how could a speaker address numbers so vast as you speak ofunless the pentecostal miracle were repeated? Surely the audience must belimited at least by the number of those understanding one language."
"Is it possible that Dr. Leete has not told you of our universallanguage?"
"I have heard no language but English."
"Of course, everybody talks the language of his own country with hiscountrymen, but with the rest of the world he talks the generallanguage--that is to say, we have nowadays to acquire but two languagesto talk to all peoples--our own, and the universal. We may learn as manymore as we please, and we usually please to learn many, but these two arealone needful to go all over the world or to speak across it without aninterpreter. A number of the smaller nations have wholly abandoned theirnational tongue and talk only the general language. The greater nations,which have fine literature embalmed in their languages, have been morereluctant to abandon them, and in this way the smaller folks haveactually had a certain sort of advantage over the greater. The tendency,however, to cultivate but one language as a living tongue and to treatall the others as dead or moribund is increasing at such a rate that ifyou had slept through another generation you might have found none butphilological experts able to talk with you."
"But even with the universal telephone and the universal language," Isaid, "there still remains the ceremonial and ritual side of religion tobe considered. For the practice of that I should suppose the piouslyinclined would still need churches to assemble in, however able todispense with them for purposes of instruction."
"If any feel that need, there is no reason why they should not have asmany churches as they wish and assemble as often as they see fit. I donot know but there are still those who do so. But with a high grade ofintelligence become universal the world was bound to outgrow theceremonial side of religion, which with its forms and symbols, its holytimes and places, its sacrifices, feasts, fasts, and new moons, meant somuch in the child-time of the race. The time has now fully come whichChrist foretold in that talk with the woman by the well of Samaria whenthe idea of the Temple and all it stood for would give place to thewholly spiritual religion, without respect of times or places, which hedeclared most pleasing to God.
"With the ritual and ceremonial side of religion outgrown," said I, "withchurch attendance become superfluous for purposes of instruction, andeverybody selecting his own preacher on personal grounds, I should saythat sectarian lines must have pretty nearly disappeared."
"Ah, yes!" said Mr. Barton, "that reminds me that our talk began withyour inquiry as to what religious sect I belonged to. It is a very longtime since it has been customary for people to divide themselves intosects and classify themselves under different names on account ofvariations of opinion as to matters of religion."
"Is it possible," I exclaimed, "that you mean to say people no longerquarrel over religion? Do you actually tell me that human beings havebecome capable of entertaining different opinions about the next worldwithout becoming enemies in this? Dr. Leete has compelled me to believe agood many miracles, but this is too much."
"I do not wonder that it seems rather a startling proposition, at firststatement, to a man of the nineteenth century," replied Mr. Barton. "But,after all, who was it who started and kept up the quarreling overreligion in former days?"
"It was, of course, the ecclesiastical bodies--the priests andpreachers."
"But they were not many. How were they able to make so much trouble?"
"On account of the masses of the people who, being densely ignorant, werecorrespondingly superstitious and bigoted, and were tools in the hands ofthe ecclesiastics."
"But there was a minority of the cultured. Were they bigoted also? Werethey tools of the ecclesiastics?"
"On the contrary, they always held a calm and tolerant attitude onreligious questions and were independent of the priesthoods. If theydeferred to ecclesiastical influence at all, it was because they held itneedful for the purpose of controlling the ignorant populace."
"Very good. You have explained your miracle. There is no ignorantpopulace now for whose sake it is necessary for the more intelligent tomake any compromises with truth. Your cultured class, with their tolerantand philosophical view of religious differences, and the criminal follyof quarreling about them, has become the only class there is."
"How long is it since people ceased to call themselves Catholics,Protestants, Baptists, Methodists, and so on?"
"That kind of classification may be said to have received a fatal shockat the time of the great Revolution, when sectarian demarcations anddoctrinal differences, already fallen into a good deal of disregard, werecompletely swept away and forgotten in the passionate impulse ofbrotherly love which brought men together for the founding of a noblersocial order. The old habit might possibly have revived in time had itnot been for the new culture, which, during the first generationsubsequent to the Revolution, destroyed the soil of ignorance andsuperstition which had supported ecclesiastical influence, and made itsrecrudescence impossible for evermore.
"Although, of course," continued my companion, "the universalizing ofintellectual culture is the only cause that needs to be considered inaccounting for the total disappearance of religious sectarianism, yet itwill give you a more vivid realization of the gulf fixed between theancient and the modern usages as to religion if you consider certaineconomic conditions, now wholly passed away, which in your timebuttressed the power of ecclesiastical institutions in very substantialways. Of course, in the first place, church buildings were needful topreach in, and equally so for the ritual and ceremonial side of religion.Moreover, the sanction of religious teaching, depending chiefly on theauthority of tradition instead of its own reasonableness, made itnecessary for any preacher who would command hearers to enter the serviceof some of the established sectarian organizations. Religion, in a word,like industry and politics, was capitalized by greater or smallercorporations which exclusively controlled the plant and machinery, andconducted it for the prestige and power of the firms. As all those whodesired to engage in politics or industry were obliged to do so insubjection to the individuals and corporations controlling the machinery,so was it in religious matters likewise. Persons desirous of entering onthe occupation of religious teaching could do so only by conforming tothe conditions of some of the organizations controlling the machinery,plant, and good will of the business--that is to say, of some one of thegreat ecclesiastical corporations. To teach religion outside of thesecorporations, when not positively illegal, was a
most difficultundertaking, however great the ability of the teacher--as difficult,indeed, as it was to get on in politics without wearing a party badge, orto succeed in business in opposition to the great capitalists. Thewould-be religious teacher had to attach himself, therefore, to some oneor other of the sectarian organizations, whose mouthpiece he must consentto be, as the condition of obtaining any hearing at all. The organizationmight be hierarchical, in which case he took his instructions from above,or it might be congregational, in which case he took his orders frombelow. The one method was monarchical, the other democratic, but one asinconsistent as the other with the office of the religious teacher, thefirst condition of which, as we look at it, should be absolutespontaneity of feeling and liberty of utterance.
"It may be said that the old ecclesiastical system depended on a doublebondage: first, the intellectual subjection of the masses throughignorance to their spiritual directors; and, secondly, the bondage of thedirectors themselves to the sectarian organizations, which as spiritualcapitalists monopolized the opportunities of teaching. As the bondage wastwofold, so also was the enfranchisement--a deliverance alike of thepeople and of their teachers, who, under the guise of leaders, had beenthemselves but puppets. Nowadays preaching is as free as hearing, and asopen to all. The man who feels a special calling to talk to his fellowsupon religious themes has no need of any other capital than somethingworth saying. Given this, without need of any further machinery than thefree telephone, he is able to command an audience limited only by theforce and fitness of what he has to say. He now does not live by hispreaching. His business is not a distinct profession. He does not belongto a class apart from other citizens, either by education or occupation.It is not needful for any purpose that he should do so. The highereducation which he shares with all others furnishes ample intellectualequipment, while the abundant leisure for personal pursuits with whichour life is interfused, and the entire exemption from public duty afterforty-five, give abundant opportunity for the exercise of his vocation.In a word, the modern religious teacher is a prophet, not a priest. Thesanction of his words lies not in any human ordination or ecclesiastical_exequatur,_ but, even as it was with the prophets of old, in suchresponse as his words may have power to evoke from human hearts."
"If people," I suggested, "still retaining a taste for the old-timeritual and ceremonial observances and face-to-face preaching, shoulddesire to have churches and clergy for their special service, is thereanything to prevent it?"
"No, indeed. Liberty is the first and last word of our civilization. Itis perfectly consistent with our economic system for a group ofindividuals, by contributing out of their incomes, not only to rentbuildings for group purposes, but by indemnifying the nation for the lossof an individual's public service to secure him as their specialminister. Though the state will enforce no private contracts of any sort,it does not forbid them. The old ecclesiastical system was, for a timeafter the Revolution, kept up by remnants in this way, and might be untilnow if anybody had wished. But the contempt into which the hirelingrelation had fallen at once after the Revolution soon made the positionof such hired clergymen intolerable, and presently there were none whowould demean themselves by entering upon so despised a relation, andnone, indeed, who would have spiritual service, of all others, on suchterms."
"As you tell the story," I said, "it seems very plain how it all cameabout, and could not have been otherwise; but you can perhaps hardlyimagine how a man of the nineteenth century, accustomed to the vast placeoccupied by the ecclesiastical edifice and influence in human affairs, isaffected by the idea of a world getting on without anything of the sort."
"I can imagine something of your sensation," replied my companion,"though doubtless not adequately. And yet I must say that no change inthe social order seems to us to have been more distinctly foreshadowed bythe signs of the times in your day than precisely this passing away ofthe ecclesiastical system. As you yourself observed, just before we cameinto this church, there was then going on a general deliquescence ofdogmatism which made your contemporaries wonder what was going to beleft. The influence and authority of the clergy were rapidlydisappearing, the sectarian lines were being obliterated, the creeds werefalling into contempt, and the authority of tradition was beingrepudiated. Surely if anything could be safely predicted it was that thereligious ideas and institutions of the world were approaching some greatchange."
"Doubtless," said I, "if the ecclesiastics of my day had regarded theresult as merely depending on the drift of opinion among men, they wouldhave been inclined to give up all hope of retaining their influence, butthere was another element in the case which gave them courage."
"And what was that?"
"The women. They were in my day called the religious sex. The clergygenerally were ready to admit that so far as the interest of the culturedclass of men, and indeed of the men generally, in the churches went, theywere in a bad way, but they had faith that the devotion of the womenwould save the cause. Woman was the sheet anchor of the Church. Not onlywere women the chief attendants at religious functions, but it waslargely through their influence on the men that the latter tolerated,even so far as they did, the ecclesiastical pretensions. Now, were notour clergymen justified in counting on the continued support of women,whatever the men might do?"
"Certainly they would have been if woman's position was to remainunchanged, but, as you are doubtless by this time well aware, theelevation and enlargement of woman's sphere in all directions was perhapsthe most notable single aspect of the Revolution. When women were calledthe religious sex it would have been indeed a high ascription if it hadbeen meant that they were the more spiritually minded, but that was notat all what the phrase signified to those who used it; it was merelyintended to put in a complimentary way the fact that women in your daywere the docile sex. Less educated, as a rule, than men, unaccustomed toresponsibility, and trained in habits of subordination and self-distrust,they leaned in all things upon precedent and authority. Naturally,therefore, they still held to the principle of authoritative teaching inreligion long after men had generally rejected it. All that was changedwith the Revolution, and indeed began to change long before it. Since theRevolution there has been no difference in the education of the sexes norin the independence of their economic and social position, in theexercise of responsibility or experience in the practical conduct ofaffairs. As you might naturally infer, they are no longer, as formerly, apeculiarly docile class, nor have they any more toleration for authority,whether in religion, politics, or economics, than their brethren. Inevery pursuit of life they join with men on equal terms, including themost important and engrossing of all our pursuits--the search afterknowledge concerning the nature and destiny of man and his relation tothe spiritual and material infinity of which he is a part."