I don't think the other profession is an exception.When the Reverend Mr.Cauvin and his associates burned my distinguished scientific brother,--he was burned with green fagots, which made it rather slow and painful,--it appears to me they were in a state of religious barbarism.The dogmas of such people about the Father of Mankind and his creatures are of no more account in my opinion than those of a council of Aztecs.If a man picks your pocket, do you not consider him thereby disqualified to pronounce any authoritative opinion on matters of ethics? If a man hangs my ancient female relatives for sorcery, as they did in this neighborhood a little while ago, or burns my instructor for not believing as he does, Icare no more for his religious edicts than I should for those of any other barbarian.
Of course, a barbarian may hold many true opinions; but when the ideas of the healing art, of the administration of justice, of Christian love, could not exclude systematic poisoning, judicial duelling, and murder for opinion's sake, I do not see how we can trust the verdict of that time relating to any subject which involves the primal instincts violated in these abominations and absurdities.
--What if we are even now in a state of semi-barbarism?
[This physician believes we "are even now in a state of semi-barbarism": invasive procedures for the prolongation of death rather than prolongation of life; "faith",as slimly based as medieval faith in minute differences between control and treated groups; statistical manipulation to prove a prejudice.Medicine has a good deal to answer for! D.W.]
Perhaps some think we ought not to talk at table about such things.
--I am not so sure of that.Religion and government appear to me the two subjects which of all others should belong to the common talk of people who enjoy the blessings of freedom.Think, one moment.The earth is a great factory-wheel, which, at every revolution on its axis, receives fifty thousand raw souls and turns off nearly the same number worked up more or less completely.There must be somewhere a population of two hundred thousand million, perhaps ten or a hundred times as many, earth-born intelligences.Life, as we call it, is nothing but the edge of the boundless ocean of existence where it comes on soundings.In this view, I do not see anything so fit to talk about, or half so interesting, as that which relates to the innumerable majority of our fellow-creatures, the dead-living, who are hundreds of thousands to one of the live-living, and with whom we all potentially belong, though we have got tangled for the present in some parcels of fibrine, albumen, and phosphates, that keep us on the minority side of the house.In point of fact, it is one of the many results of Spiritualism to make the permanent destiny of the race a matter of common reflection and discourse, and a vehicle for the prevailing disbelief of the Middle-Age doctrines on the subject.Icannot help thinking, when I remember how many conversations my friend and myself have sported, that it would be very extraordinary, if there were no mention of that class of subjects which involves all that we have and all that we hope, not merely for ourselves, but for the dear people whom we love best,--noble men, pure and lovely women, ingenuous children, about the destiny of nine tenths of whom you know the opinions that would have been taught by those old man-roasting, woman-strangling dogmatists.--However, I fought this matter with one of our boarders the other day, and I am going to report the conversation.
The divinity-student came down, one morning, looking rather more serious than usual.He said little at breakfast-time, but lingered after the others, so that I, who am apt to be long at the table, found myself alone with him.
When the rest were all gone, he turned his chair round towards mine, and began.
I am afraid,--he said,--you express yourself a little too freely on a most important class of subjects.Is there not danger in introducing discussions or allusions relating to matters of religion into common discourse?
Danger to what?--I asked.
Danger to truth,--he replied, after a slight pause.
I didn't know Truth was such an invalid,' I said.--How long is it since she could only take the air in a close carriage, with a gentleman in a black coat on the box? Let me tell you a story, adapted to young persons, but which won't hurt older ones.
--There was a very little boy who had one of those balloons you may have seen, which are filled with light gas, and are held by a string to keep them from running off in aeronautic voyages on their own account.This little boy had a naughty brother, who said to him, one day,--Brother, pull down your balloon, so that I can look at it and take hold of it.Then the little boy pulled it down.Now the naughty brother had a sharp pin in his hand, and he thrust it into the balloon, and all the gas oozed out, so that there was nothing left but a shrivelled skin.
One evening, the little boy's father called him to the window to see the moon, which pleased him very much; but presently he said,--Father, do not pull the string and bring down the moon, for my naughty brother will prick it, and then it will all shrivel up and we shall not see it any more.
Then his father laughed, and told him how the moon had been shining a good while, and would shine a good while longer, and that all we could do was to keep our windows clean, never letting the dust get too thick on them, and especially to keep our eyes open, but that we could not pull the moon down with a string, nor prick it with a pin.
--Mind you this, too, the moon is no man's private property, but is seen from a good many parlor-windows.
