Фредерик Марриет
Diary in America, Series One
It is not my intention to comment upon the numerous sects, and the varieties of worship practised in the United States. The Episcopal church is small in proportion to the others, and as far as I can ascertain, although it may increase its members with the increase of population, it is not likely to make any vigorous or successful stand against the other sects. The two churches most congenial to the American feelings and institutions are the Presbyterian and Congregationalist.
“The Congregationalists answer to the Independents of England and are sympathetically, and to a great extent, lineally descendants of the Puritans.”—Voice from America, p. 62.
They may, indeed, in opposition to the hierarchy of the Episcopal, be considered as Republican churches; and admitting that many errors have crept into the established church from its too intimate union with the State, I think it will be proved that, in rejecting its errors and the domination of the mitre, the seceders have fallen into still greater evils; and have, for the latter, substituted a despotism to which every thing, even religion itself, must in America succumb.
In a republic, or democracy, the people will rule in every thing: in the Congregational church they rule as deacons; in the Presbyterian as elders. Affairs are litigated and decided in committees and councils, and thus is the pastoral office deprived of its primitive and legitimate influence, and the ministers are tyrannised over by the laity, in the most absurd and most unjustifiable manner. If the minister does not submit to their decisions, if he asserts his right as a minister to preach the word according to his reading of it, he is arraigned and dismissed. In short, although sent for to instruct the people, he must consent to be instructed by them, or surrender up his trust. Thus do the ministers lose all their dignity and become the slaves of the congregation, who give them their choice, either to read the Scriptures according to their reading, or to go and starve. I was once canvassing this question with an American, who pronounced that the laity were quite right, and that it was the duty of the minister to preach as his congregation wished. His argument was this:—“If I send to Manchester for any article to be manufactured, I expect it to be made exactly after the pattern given; if not, I will not take it: so it is with the minister: he must find goods exactly suited to his customers, or expect them to be left on his hands!”
And it really would appear as if such were the general opinion in the United States. Mr Colton, an American minister, who turned from the Presbyterian to the Episcopal church, in his “Reasons for Episcopacy,” makes the following remarks:—
(I must request the reader’s forbearance at the extreme length of the quotations, but I cannot well avoid making them. Whatever weight my opinion, as the opinion of an observant traveller may have, it must naturally be much increased if supported, as it always is when opportunity offers, by American authority.)
Speaking of the deacons and elders of their churches, he says—“They may be honest and good men, and very pious: but in most churches they are men of little intellectual culture; and the less they have, the more confident and unbending are they in their opinions. If a minister travels an inch beyond the circle of their vision in theology, or startles them with a new idea in his interpretation of Scripture, it is not unlikely that their suspicions of his orthodoxy will be awakened. If he does any thing out of the common course, he is an innovator. If, from the multiplicity of his cares and engagements, he is now and then obliged to preach an old sermon, or does not visit so much as might be expected, he is lazy. For these and for other delinquencies, as adjudged by these associates, it becomes their conscientious duty to admonish him. He who is appointed to supervise the flock, is himself supervised. ‘I have a charge to give you,’ said a deacon to me once, the first time and the moment I was introduced to him, after I had preached one or two Sabbaths in the place, and, as it happened, it was the first word he said after we shook hands, adding, ‘I often give charges to ministers.’ I knew him to be an important man, and the first in the church; but as I had nothing at stake there that depended on his favour, I could not resist the temptation of replying to him in view of his consequential airs, ‘You may use your discretion, sir, in this particular instance; but I can tell you that ministers are sometimes overcharged.’ However, I did not escape.
“The American clergy are the most backward and timid class in the society in which they live; self-exiled from the great moral question of the time; the least informed with true knowledge—the least efficient in virtuous action—the least conscious of that Christian and republican freedom which, as the native atmosphere of piety and holiness, it is their prime duty to cherish and diffuse,”—Miss Martineau. I quote this paragraph to contradict it. The American clergy are, in the mass, equal, if not superior, to any in the world: they have to struggle with difficulties almost insurmountable, (as I shall substantiate) and worthily do they perform their tasks.
“It seems to be a principle in Presbyterian and Congregational churches, that the minister must be overlooked by the elders and deacons; and if he does not quietly submit to their rule, his condition will be uncomfortable. He may also expect visitations from women to instruct him in his duty; at least, they will contrive to convey to him their opinions. It is said of Dr Bellamy, of Bethlehem, Connecticut, who was eminently a peace-maker, and was always sent for by all the churches in the country around, or a great distance, to settle their difficulties, that having just returned from one of these errands, and put up his horse, another message of the same kind came from another quarter—‘And what is the matter?’ said the Doctor to the messenger. ‘Why,’ said he, ‘Deacon has—’ ‘Has—that’s enough—There never is a difficulty in a church, but some old deacon is at the bottom of it.’
“Unquestionably, it is proper, wise, and prudent, for every minister to watch and consult the popular opinion around him, in relation to himself, his preaching, and his conduct. But, if a minister is worthy to be the pastor of a people, he is also worthy of some confidence, and ought to receive deference. In his own proper work he may be helped, he may be sustained, but he cannot be instructed by his people; he cannot in general be instructed by the wisest of them. Respectful and kind hints from competent persons he may receive, and should court—he may profit by them. But, if he is a man fit for his place, he should retain that honour that will leave him scope, and inspire him with courage to act a manly part. A Christian pastor can never fulfil his office, and attain its highest ends, without being free to act among his people according to the light of his conscience and his best discretion. To have elders and deacons to rule over him, is to be a slave—is not to be a man. The responsibilities, cares, burdens, and labours of the pastoral office are enough, without being impeded and oppressed by such anxieties as these. In the early history of New England, a non-conformist minister, from the old country, is represented to have said, after a little experience on this side of the water, ‘I left England to get rid of my lords the bishops; but here I find in their place my lords, the brethren and sisters; save me from the latter, and let me have the former.’
“It has actually happened—within a few years—in New England, and I believe in other parts of the country, that there has been a system of lay visitation of the clergy for the purpose of counselling, admonishing, and urging them up to their duty; and that these self-commissioned apostles, two and two, have gone from town to town, and from district to district of the country, making inquisition at the mouth of common rumour, and by such methods as might be convenient, into the conduct and fidelity of clergymen whom they never saw; and, having exhausted their means of information, have made their way into the closets of their adopted protégés; to advise, admonish, pray with, and for them; according as they might need. Having fulfilled their office, they have renewed their march, ‘staff and script,’ in a straightforward way, to the next parish, in the assigned round of their visitations, to enact the same scene, and so on till their work was done.
“Of course, they were variously received; though, for the most part, I believe they have been treated civilly, and their title to this enterprise not openly disputed. There has been an unaccountable submission to things of this kind, proving indeed that the ministers thus visited were not quite manly enough; or that a public opinion, authorising these transactions, had obtained too extensive a sway in their own connexion, and among their people, to be resisted. By many, doubtless, it was regarded as one of the hopeful symptoms of this age of religious experiment.
“I have heard of one reception of these lay apostles, which may not be unworthy of record. One pair of them—for they went forth ‘two and two,’ and thus far were conformed to scripture—both of them mechanics, and one a shoemaker, having abandoned their calling to engage in this enterprise, came upon a subject who was not well disposed to recognise their commission. They began to talk with him: ‘We have come to stir you up.’—‘How is the shoe business in your city?’ said the clergyman to the shoemaker, who was the speaker: for it was a city from which they came. The shoemaker looked vacant, and stared at the question, as if he thought it not very pertinent to his errand; and, after a little pause, proceeded in the discharge of his office: ‘We have come to give your church a shaking.’—‘Is the market for shoes good?’ said the clergyman. Abashed at this apparent obliquity, the shoemaker paused again; and again went on in like manner. To which the clergyman: ‘Your business is at a stand, sir, I presume; I suppose you have nothing to do.’ And so the dialogue went on; the shoemaker confining himself to his duty, and the clergyman talking only of shoes: in varied and constantly-shifting colloquy, till the perverse and wicked pertinacity of the latter discouraged the former; and the shoemaker and his brother took up their hats, ‘to shake off the dust of their feet,’ and turn away to a more hopeful subject. The clergyman bowed them very civilly out of doors, expressing his wish, as they departed, that the shoe business might soon revive. Of course, these lay apostles, in this instance, were horror-struck; and it cannot be supposed they were much inclined to leave their blessing behind them.
“I believe I do not mistake in expressing the conviction that there are hundreds, not to say thousands, of the Presbyterian and Congregational clergy, who will sympathise with me thoroughly in these strictures on the encroachments of the laity upon pastoral prerogative; who groan under it; who feel that it ought to be rebuked and corrected, but despair of it; and who know that their usefulness is abridged by it to an account that cannot be estimated.”
(The Reverend Mr Reid mentions a very whimsical instance of the interference of the laity in every possible way. He says, that being at church one Sabbath, there was one reverend old man, certainly a leader among them, who literally, as the preacher went on with his sermon, kept up a sort of recitation with him as, for instance, the preacher continuing his sermon—
The duty here inferred is, to deny ourselves—
Elder. And enable us to do it.
Preacher. It supposes that the carnal mind is enmity against God—
Elder. Ah, indeed, Lord, it is.
Preacher. The very reverse of what God would have us to be—
Elder. God Almighty knows it’s true.
Preacher. How necessary, then, that God should call upon us to renounce everything—
Elder. God help us!
Preacher. Is it necessary for me to say more?
Elder. No—oh—no!
Preacher. Have I not said enough?
Elder. Oh, yes, quite enough.
Preacher. I rejoice that God calls me to give up every thing—
Elder. Yes, Lord, I would let it all go.
Preacher. You must give up all—
Elder. Yes—all.
Preacher. Your pride—
Elder. My pride.
Preacher. Your envy.
Elder. My envy.
Preacher. Your covetousness—
Elder. My covetousness.
Preacher. Your anger.
Elder. Yes—my anger.
Preacher. Sinner, then; how awful is your condition!
Elder. How awful!
Preacher. What reason for all to examine themselves.
Elder. Lord, help us to search our hearts!
Preacher. Could you have more motives? I have done.
Elder. Thank God.—Thank God for his holy word. Amen.)
“It can hardly be denied, I think, that the prevalence of this spirit has greatly increased within a few years, and become a great and alarming evil. This increase is owing, no doubt, to the influence and new practices introduced into the religious world by a certain class of ministers, who have lately risen and taken upon themselves to rebuke, and set down as unfaithful, all other ministers who do not conform to their new ways, or sustain them in their extravagant career.”
The interference, I may say the tyranny, of the laity over the ministers of these democratic churches is, however, of still more serious consequences to those who accept such arduous and repulsive duty. It is a well-known fact, that there is a species of bronchitis, or affection of the lungs, peculiar to the ministers in the United States, arising from their excessive labours in their vocation. I have already observed, that the zeal of the minister is even unto death: the observations of Mr Colton fully bear me out in my assertion:—
“There is another serious evil in the Presbyterian and Congregational denominations, which has attained to the consequence of an active and highly influential element in these communities. I refer to the excessive amount of labour that is demanded of the clergy, which is undermining their health, and sending scores to their graves every year, long before they ought to go there. It is a new state of things, it must be acknowledged, and might seem hopeful of good, that great labours and high devotion to the duties of the Christian ministry in our country will not only be tolerated, but are actually demanded and imperatively exacted. At first glance, it is a most grateful feature. But, when the particulars come to be inquired into, it will be found that the mind and health-destroying exactions now so extensively made on the energies of the American clergy, particularly on these two classes I am now considering, are attributable, almost entirely, to an appetite for certain novelties, which have been introduced within a few years, adding greatly to the amount of ministerial labour, without augmenting its efficiency, but rather detracting from it. Sermons and meetings without end, and in almost endless variety, are expected and demanded; and a proportionate demand is made on the intellect, resources, and physical energies of the preacher. He must be as much more interesting in his exercises, and exhibitions as the increased multiplicity of public religious occasions tend to pall on the appetite of hearers. Protracted meetings from day to day, and often from week to week, are making demands upon ministers, which no human power can sustain and, where these are dispensed with, it is often necessary to introduce something tantamount, in other forms, to satisfy the suggestions and wishes of persons so influential as to render it imprudent not to attempt to gratify them. In the soberest congregations, throughout nearly all parts of the land, these importunate, and, without unkindness, I am disposed to add, morbid minds are to be found, often in considerable numbers. Almost everywhere, in order to maintain their ground and satisfy the taste of the times, labours are demanded of ministers in these two denominations enough to kill any man in a short period. It is as if Satan had come into the world in the form of an angel of light, seeming to be urging on a good work, but pushing it so hard as to destroy the labourers by over exaction.
“The wasting energies—the enfeebled, ruined health—the frequent premature deaths—the failing of ministers in the Presbyterian and Congregational connexions from these causes all over the country, almost as soon as they have begun to work—all which is too manifest not to be seen, which everybody feels that takes any interest in this subject, are principally, and with few exceptions, owing to the unnecessary exorbitant demands on their intellectual powers, their moral and physical energies. And the worst of it is, we not only have no indemnification for this amazing, immense sacrifice, by a real improvement of the state of religion, but the public mind is vitiated: an unnatural appetite for spurious excitements, all tending to fanaticism, and not a little of it the essence of fanaticism, is created and nourished. The interests of religion in the land are actually thrown backward. It is a fever, a disease which nothing but time, pains, and a change of system can cure. A great body of the most talented, best educated, most zealous, most pious, and purest Christian ministers in the country—not to disparage any others—a body which in all respects will bear an advantageous comparison with any of their class in the world, is threatened to be enervated, to become sickly, to have their minds wasted, and their lives sacrificed out of season, and with real loss to the public, by the very means which prostrates them, even though we should leave out of the reckoning the premature end to which they are brought. This spectacle, at this moment before the eyes of the wide community, is enough to fill the mind of an enlightened Christian with dismay. I have myself been thrown ten years out of the stated use of the ministry by this very course, and may, therefore, be entitled to feel and to speak on the subject. And when I see my brethren fallen and falling around me, like the slain in battle, the plains of our land literally covered with these unfortunate victims, I am constrained to express a most earnest desire, that some adequate remedy may be applied.”
It is no matter of surprise, then, that I heard the ministers at the camp meeting complain of the excess of their labours, and the difficulty of obtaining young men to enter the church; (The Rev. Mr Reid observes, speaking of the Congregationalists, “When I rose to support his resolution, as requested, all were generously attentive. At the close I alluded emphatically to one fact in the report, which was, That out of 4,500 churches there were 2,000 not only void of educated pastors, but void of pastors, and I insisted that, literally, they ought not to sleep on such a state of things.”—Reid and Matheson’s Tour) who, indeed, unless actuated by a holy zeal, would submit to such a life of degradation? what man of intellect and education could submit to be schooled by shoemakers and mechanics, to live poor, and at the mercy of tyrants, and drop down dead like the jaded and over laden beast from excess of fatigue and exertion? Let me again quote the same author:
“It is these excessive, multitudinous, and often long protracted religious occasions, together with the spirit that is in them, which have been for some years breaking up and breaking down the clergy of this land? It has been breaking them up. It is commonly observed, that a new era has lately come over the Christian congregations of our country in regard to the permanence of the pastoral relation. Times was, in the memory of those now living, when the settlement of a minister was considered of course a settlement for life. But now, as every body knows, this state of things is entirely broken up; and it is, perhaps, true that, on an average, the clergy of this country do not remain more than five years in the same place.” (“I was sorry to find that, in this part of the State, the ministers are so frequently changing the scene of their pastoral labours. The fault may sometimes be in themselves: but from conversations I have heard on the subject, I am inclined to believe that the people are fond of a change.”—Rev. Mr Reid) And it is impossible they should, in the present state of things. They could not stand it. So numerous are their engagements; so full of anxiety is their condition in a fevered state of the public mind acting upon them from all directions; so consuming are their labours in the study and in public, pressed and urged upon them by the demands of the time; and, withal, so fickle has the popular mind become under a system that is forever demanding some new and still more exciting measure—some new society—some new monthly or weekly meeting, which perhaps soon grows into a religious holiday—some special effort running through many days, sometimes lasting for weeks, calling for public labours of ministers, of the most exciting kind throughout each day, from the earliest hour of the morning to a late hour of night; for reasons and facts of this kind, so abundant, and now so obvious to the public, that they need only to be referred to, to be seen and appreciated, it is impossible that ministers should remain long in the same place. Their mental and physical energies become exhausted, and they are compelled to change; first, because it is not in the power of man to satisfy the appetite for novelties which is continually and from all quarters making its insatiate demands upon them; and next; that, if possible, they may purchase a breathing time and a transient relief from the overwhelming pressure of their cares and labours.
“But, alas! there is no relief: they are not only broken up, but they find themselves fast breaking down. Wherever they go, there is the same demand for the same scene to be acted over. There is—there can be—no stability in the pastoral relation, in such a state of the public mind: and, what is still more melancholy and affecting, the pastors themselves cannot endure it—they cannot live. They are not only constantly fluctuating—literally afloat on the wide surface of the community—but their health is undermined—their spirits are sinking—and they are fast treading upon each others’ heels to the grave, their only land of rest.
“Never since the days of the apostles, was a country blessed with so enlightened, pious, orthodox, faithful, willing clergy, as the United States of America at this moment; and never did a ministry, so worthy of trust, have so little independence to act according to their conscience and best discretion. They are literally the victims of a spiritual tyranny that has started up and burst upon the world in a new form—at least, with an extent of sway that has never been known. It is an influence which comes up from the lowest conditions of life, which is vested in the most ignorant minds, and, therefore, the more unbending and uncontrollable. It is an influence which has been fostered and blown into a wide-spread flame by a class of itinerating ministers, who have suddenly started up and overrun the land, decrying and denouncing all that have not yielded at once to their sway; by direct and open efforts shaking and destroying public confidence in the settled and more permanent ministry, leaving old paths and striking out new ones, demolishing old systems and substituting others, and disturbing and deranging the whole order of society as it had existed before. And it is to this new state of things, so harassing, so destructive to health and life, that the regular ministry of this country (the best qualified, most pious, most faithful, and in all respects the most worthy Christian ministry that the church has ever enjoyed in any age) are made the victims. They cannot resist it, they are overwhelmed by it.”
The fact is, that there is little or no healthy religion in their most numerous and influential churches; it is all excitement. Twenty or thirty years back, the Methodists were considered as extravagantly frantic, but the Congregationalists and Presbyterians in the United States have gone far ahead of them; and the Methodist church in America has become to a degree Episcopal, and softened down into, perhaps, the most pure, most mild, and most simple of all the creeds professed.
I have said that in these two churches the religious feeling was that of excitement: I believe it to be more or less the case in all religion in America; for the Americans are a people who are prone to excitement, not only from their climate, but constitutionally, and it is the caviare of their existence. If it were not so, why is it necessary that revivals should be so continually called forth—a species of stimulus, common, I believe, to almost every sect and creed, promoted and practised in all their colleges, and considered as most important and salutary in their results. Let it not be supposed that I am deprecating that which is to be understood by a revival, in the true sense of the word; not those revivals which were formerly held the benefit of all, and for the salvation of many: I am raising my voice against the modern system, which has been so universally substituted for the reality; such as has been so fully exposed by Bishop Hopkins, of Vermont, and, by Mr Colton, who says—
“Religious excitements, called revivals of religion, have been a prominent feature in the history of this country from its earliest periods, more particularly within a hundred years and the agency of man has always had more or less to do in their management, or in their origination, or in both. Formerly, in theory, (for man is naturally a philosopher, and will always have his theory for every event, and every fact,) they were regarded as Pentecostal seasons—as showers from heaven; with which this world below had nothing to do but to receive, and be refreshed by them as they came. A whole community, or the great majority of them, absorbed in serious thoughts about eternal things, inquiring the way to heaven, and seeming intent on the attainment of that high and glorious condition, presents a spectacle as solemn as it is interesting to contemplate. Such, doubtless, has been the condition of many communities in the early and later history of American revivals; and it is no less true that the fruits have been the turning of many to God and his ways.
“The revivals of the present day are of a very different nature.” (The American clergymen are supported in their opinion on the present revivals and their consequences by Doctors Reid and Matheson, who, otherwise favourable to them, observe, “These revival preachers have denounced pastors with whom they could not compare, as dumb dogs, hypocrites, and formalists, leading their people to hell. The consequences have been most disastrous. Churches have become the sport of derision, distraction, and disorder. Pastors have been made unhappy in their dearest connexions. So extensive has been this evil, that, in one presbytery of nineteen churches, there were only three who had settled pastors; and in one synod, in 1832, of a hundred and three churches, only fifty-two had pastors.”) “There are but two ways by which the mind of man can be brought to a proper sense of religion—one is by love, and the other by fear; and it is by the latter only that modern revivals become at all effective. Bishop Hopkins says, very truly—‘Have we any example in the preaching of Christ and his apostles, of the use of strong individual denunciation? Is there one sentence in the word of inspiration to justify the attempt to excite the feelings of a public assembly, until every restraint of order is forgotten, and confusion becomes identified with the word of God.” (“The Primitive Church Compared,” etcetera, by the Bishop of Vermont.) Yet such are the revivals of the present day, as practised in America. Mr Colton calls them—“Those startling and astounding shocks which are constantly invented, artfully and habitually applied, under all the power of sympathy, and of a studied and enthusiastic elocution, by a large class of preachers among us. To startle and to shock is their great secret—their power.”
The same author then proceeds:
“Religion is a dread and awful theme in itself. That is, as all must concede, there are revealed truths belonging to the category. To invest these truths with terrors that do not belong to them, by bringing them out in distorted shapes and unnatural forms; to surprise a tender and unfortified mind by one of awful import, without exhibiting the corresponding relief which Christianity has provided; to frighten, shock, and paralyse the mind with alternations and scenes of horror, carefully concealing the ground of encouragement and hope, till reason is shaken and hurled from its throne, for the sake of gaining a convert, and in making a convert to make a maniac (as doubtless sometimes occurs under this mode of preaching, for we have the proof of it,) involves a fearful responsibility. I have just heard of an interesting girl thus driven to distraction, in the city of New York, at the tender age of fourteen, by being approached by the preacher after a sermon of this kind, with a secretary by his side with a book and pen in his hand, to take down the names and answers of those who, by invitation, remained to be conversed with. Having taken her name, the preacher asked, ‘Are you for God or the devil?’ Being overcome, her head depressed, and in tears, she made no reply. ‘Put her down, then, in the devil’s book,’ said the preacher to his secretary. From that time the poor girl became insane; and, in her simplicity and innocence, has been accustomed to tell the story of her misfortunes.”
And yet these revivals are looked up to and supported as the strong arm of religion. It is not only the ignorant or the foolish, but the enlightened and the educated also, who support and encourage them, either from a consideration of their utility, or from that fear, so universal in the United States, of expressing an opinion contrary to the majority. How otherwise could they be introduced once or twice a year into all the colleges, the professors of which are surely most of them men of education and strong mind? Yet such is the fact. It is announced that some minister, peculiarly gifted to work in revivals, is to come on a certain day. Books are thrown on one side, study is abandoned, and ten days perhaps are spent in religious exercises of the most violent and exciting character. It is a scene of strange confusion, some praying, some pretending to pray, some scoffing. Day after day it is carried on, until the excitement is at its height, as the exhortations and the denunciations of the preacher are poured into their ears. A young American who was at one of the colleges, and gave me a full detail of what had occurred, told me that on one occasion a poor lad, frightened out of his senses, and anxious to pray, as the vengeance and wrath of the Almighty was poured out by the minister, sunk down upon his knees and commenced his prayer with “Almighty and diabolical God!” No misnomer, if what the preacher had thundered out was the truth.
