THE IMMORALITY OF RELIGIOUS

EDUCATION.

(Continued from the August Number.)

II.

In France even outspoken Rationalists often adhere to the utilitarian principle that religious instruction of the young is indispensable to impress a sense of duty upon the undeveloped mind of the child, and to educate. women in order to keep them in submission to a stronger will. They are pleased to see their wives and children attending church and confessing their real and imaginary sins to the priest. Thus, while boys are undeceived as soon as they go to the higher schools, daughters are purposely kept in the dark as much and as long as possible, and their education at the convent is part and parcel of this approved system. Religious belief, in fact, appears to be a necessity for the weak, while it can be dispensed with by the strong mind.

In Paris the influence of the clergy in boys' schools is comparatively insignificant, but in the country the sons of the middle class are almost invariably educated under the direction of the priest. In consequence here, as elsewhere, the inhabitants of villages and small towns. are more religiously inclined than the Parisians; but a comparison of the percentage of convictions in the country and in the largest towns in France in no way proves the general supposition that the want of religious feeling or of faith must needs increase the number of crimes committed. On the contrary, the most outrageous offences against the law are recorded in the country, and the worst murders are committed amongst the highly religious peasantry, where reckless egotism. reaches an incredible height, notwithstanding the powerful influence of the priest. The Archbishop would ascribe this indisputable fact to other causes, and would even in face of statistics firmly adhere to the preconceived idea that the average man must be induced to abstain from crime, and to do good, by the

fear of eternal punishment and the hope of a future life.

But neither his Eminence nor my father viewed with disfavor my contention that the application of the utilitarian principle, which under special circumstances might be permissible in politics and diplomacy, was immoral and pernicious if applied to matters of religion. They seemed amused at my enthusiasm when I attacked the stronghold of prejudice, and the Bishop evidently considered my protest with the affable contempt usual with ecclesiastics of high rank. He ascribed my "vagaries", as he called the convictions of an overexerted brain, to the inexperience of youth, and he was firmly convinced that after consideration I would, like all the others, come to the conclusion that the lie was not only permissible, but necessary, if it could be deemed to benefit humanity. That the religious lie greatly benefited humanity, the high priest never doubted for a single moment. I knew at that time from my school fellows and friends that their parents professed to adhere to similar principles, and I understood that every educated Frenchman was a Rationalist by conviction, but notwithstanding he approved of the deception practised in the schools on the theoretical assumption that religious education contributed to the happiness of the ignorant masses, and to the welfare. and safety of the community and of the State.

I was extremely curious to discover what proportion of the numerous clergy in France and all over the world was kept in the dark as to this important question, and how many had arrived at the same conclusion as our friend Archbishop Dàrboy. I felt that this interesting question was extremely difficult to decide. There could be no doubt about the Archbishop's sincerity; but he might have been biased by his own state of mind.

My question, "Is not a religious conviction of some sort absolutely required to teach religion?" met with the prompt reply: "Yes, certainly, my son, it is, and we are all convinced of the fundamental truth of dogma, not in a literal sense, but allegorically, and this conviction, coupled with the deep-rooted religious feeling which is implanted in every human heart, gives the teachers of

religion that extraordinary power which has caused the ethical progress of humanity. But, besides, you must remember that our Church, and indeed every Church, takes great care to superintend the religious education. of the priest. We require absolute faith, a blind belief in the literal truth of our dogmas, from all those who cannot grasp the allegorical meaning of the system. The average priest is a believer; he has been educated at our seminaries from his early boyhood, and has been kept away from mundane influences. The question of the utility of religious teaching apart from literal truth, that is, the question of allegorical truths, does not enter his mind at all; he is a member of a great institution, and simply acts as the head directs."

My father nodded assent, for he agreed with almost every opinion which the Archbishop pronounced on this difficult subject.

"But how many," I asked timidly, "how many of the religious teachers in France believe in the literal truth of the dogmas of the Church?"

"I should say quite eighty per cent," interrupted my father, thus relieving the Archbishop. "It will be about that proportion all over the world, perhaps a little less in Italy, as Italian priests are more emancipated, and the number will be a little more in England."

The Archbishop sat in his comfortable chair, and smiled. His patience in answering my many questions seemed inexhaustible.

"Is it not somewhat against the fundamental principles of ethics to deceive the young and the inexperi enced?" I continued.

"This, my boy, is not deception. Surely you misunderstand. It is the eternal truth clad in a dress which makes it visible and intelligible to the masses. Would you call it deception if the physician, knowing that a patient must otherwise die, prolongs his life by implanting hope in his breast, or if you administer to the whims and fancies of a child, or to those of a lunatic? Does not the result justify, nay sanctify, the means? Is it immoral to save the life of a fellow man by veiling the truth which would kill him?"

I had then just studied Schopenhauer's dialogue on

religion. Philalethes supported my view that the concealment of truth under any circumstances was wrong, and with that philosopher's opinion at my back I dared to answer:

"Yes, Archbishop, I think it is immoral; it is certainly wrong, for one reason, that religion sets up a limit to philosophical effort, and it arrests the sincere search after truth. It is also immoral because religion sets up false ideals, and fosters the egotism of the human race."

"Hallo, boy," broke in my father, "where did you pick that up? That did not come out of your head." "No; it is Schopenhauer's opinion."

"I thought so. These German philosophers are in a hopeless muddle. And what does Monsieur Schopenhauer give you in place of religion? Philosophic pessimism is a doubtful substitute for optimistic religious feeling, because we human animals are optimists by instinct."

Disconcerted, I took from the shelf the little volume which contained the dialogue, and asked the Archbishop's permission to read some of Philalethes' remarks on the subject. The permission was granted, and I read a few selected passages which I had underlined:

Religions admittedly appeal, not to conviction as the result of argument, but to belief as demanded by revelation. And as the capacity of believing is strongest in childhood, special care is taken to make sure of this tender age. This has much more to do with the doctrines of belief than threats and reports of miracles. If in early childhood certain fundamental views and doctrines are paraded with unusual solemnity, and an air of the greatest earnestness never before visible in anything else; if at the same time the possibility of doubt about them be completely passed over, or touched upon only to indicate that doubt is the first step to eternal perdition, the resulting impression will be so deep that, as a rule-that is, in almost every case-doubt about them will be almost as impossible as doubt about one's own existence. The power of religious dogma, when inculcated early, is such as to stifle conscience, compassion, and finally every feeling of humanity. But if you want to see with your own eyes and close at hand what timely inoculation of belief will accomplish, look at the English. Here is a nation favored before all others by nature-endowed more than all others by discernment, intelligence, power of judgment, strength of character: look at them, abased and made ridiculous, beyond all others, by their stupid ecclesiastical superstition, which appears amongst their other abilities like

a fixed idea or monomania. For this they have to thank the circumstance that education is in the hands of the clergy, whose endeavor it is to impress all the articles of belief, at the earliest age, in a way that amounts to a kind of paralysis of the brain; this in its turn expresses itself all their life in an idiotic bigotry, which makes otherwise most sensible and intelligent people amongst them degrade themselves so that one can't make head or tail of them. . . . .

"It is a terrible thing that wherever a man is born certain propositions are inculcated in him in earliest youth, and he is assured that he may never have any doubts about them, under penalty of thereby forfeiting eternal salvation-propositions, I mean, which affect the foundation of all our other knowledge, and accordingly determine for ever, and if they are false distort for ever, the point of view from which our knowledge starts; and as, further, the corollaries of these propositions touch the entire system of our intellectual attainments at every point, the whole of human knowledge is thoroughly adulterated by them. . . . .

"It is false that State, justice, law cannot be upheld without the assistance of religion and its dogmas, and that justice and public order need religion as a necessary complement if legislative enactments are to be carried out. It is false, were it repeated a hundred times. An effective and striking argument to the contrary is afforded by the ancients, especially the Greeks. They had nothing at all of what we understand by religion."

“That will do,” interrupted the Bishop. "Now read the answer of Demopheles; that is my answer, too."

Demopheles: So that's your higher point of view. I assure you there is a higher still. First live, then philosophise, is a maxim of more comprehensive import than appears at first sight. The first thing to do is to control the raw and evil dispositions of the masses, so as to keep them from pushing injustice to extremes, and from committing cruel, violent and disgraceful acts. If you were to wait until they had recognised and grasped the truth, you would undoubtedly come too late; and truth, supposing that it had been found, would surpass their powers of comprehension. In any case an allegorical investiture of it, a parable or myth, is all that would be of any service to them. As Kant said, there must be a public standard of right and virtue; it must always flutter high overhead. It is a matter of indifference what heraldic figures are inscribed on it so long as they signify what is meant. Such an allegorical representation of truth is always and everywhere, for humanity at large, a serviceable substitute for a truth to which it can never attain, for a philosophy which it can never grasp; let alone the fact that it is daily changing its shape and has in no form as yet met with general acceptance. Practical aims, then, my good Philalethes, are in every respect superior to theoretical.

"At any rate, religion is truth allegorically and mythically expressed, and so rendered attainable and digestible by mankind in general."