Superstition Unveiled | Page 6

not
been drawn in from their sucking-bottles, or 'hatched within the narrow
fences of their own conceit.'
Every day experience demonstrates the fallibility of majorities. It
palpably exhibits, too, the danger as well as folly of presuming the
unpopularity of certain speculative opinions an evidence of their
untruth. A public intellect, untainted by gross superstition, can nowhere
be appealed to. Even in this favoured country, 'the envy of surrounding
nations and admiration of the world,' the multitude are anything but
patterns of moral purity and intellectual excellence. They who assure us
vox populi 'is the voice of God,' are fairly open to the charge of
ascribing to Him what orthodox pietists inform us exclusively belongs
to the Father of Evil. If by 'voice of God' is meant something different
from noisy ebullitions of anger, intemperance, and fanaticism, they
who would have us regulate our opinions in conformity therewith are

respectfully requested to reconcile mob philosophy with the sober
dictates of experience, and mob law with the law of reason.
A writer in the Edinburgh Review [12:1] assures us the majority of
every nation consists of rude uneducated masses, ignorant, intolerant,
suspicious, unjust, and uncandid, without the sagacity which discovers
what is right, or the intelligence which comprehends it when pointed
out, or the morality which requires it to be done. And yet religious
philosophers are fond of quoting the all but universal horror of
Universalism as a formidable argument against that much
misunderstood creed!
The least reflection will suffice to satisfy any reasonable man that the
speculative notions of rude, uneducated masses, so faithfully described
by the Scotch Reviewer, are, for the most part, grossly absurd and
consequently the reverse of true. If the masses of all nations are
ignorant, intolerant, suspicious, unjust, and uncandid, without the
sagacity which discovers what is right, or the intelligence which
comprehends it when pointed out, or the morality which requires it to
be done, who with the least shadow of claim to be accounted
reasonable will assert that a speculative heresy is the worse for being
unpopular, or that an opinion is false, and must be demoralising in its
influence, because the majority of mankind declare it so.
I would not have it inferred from the foregoing remarks that horror of
Universalism, and detestation of its apostles, is confined to the low, the
vulgar, the base, or the illiterate. Any such inference would be wrong,
for it is certainly true that learned, benevolent, and very able Christian
writers, have signalised themselves in the work of obstructing the
progress of Universalism by denouncing its principles, and imputing all
manner of wickedness to its defenders. It must, indeed, be admitted that
their conduct in this particular amply justifies pious Matthew Henry's
confession that 'of all the Christian graces, zeal is most apt to turn sour.'
One John Ryland, A.M., of Northampton, published a 'Preceptor, or
General Repository of useful information, very necessary for the
various ages and departments of life,' in which 'pride and lust, a corrupt
pride of heart, and a furious filthy lust of body,' are announced as the

Atheist's 'springs of action,' 'desire to act the beast without control, and
live like a devil without a check of conscience,' his only 'reasons for
opposing the existence of God,' in which he is told 'a world of creatures
are up in arms against him to kill him as they would a venomous mad
dog,' in which, among other hard names, he is called 'absurd fool,'
'beast,' 'dirty monster,' 'brute,' 'gloomy dark animal,' 'enemy of
mankind,' 'wolf to civil society,' 'butcher and murderer of the human
race,' in which, moreover, he is cursed in the following hearty
terms;--'Let the glorious mass of fire burn him, let the moon light him
to the gallows, let the stars in their courses fight against the Atheist, let
the force of the comets dash him to pieces, let the roar of thunders
strike him deaf, let red lightnings blast his guilty soul, let the sea lift up
her mighty waves to bury him, let the lion tear him to pieces, let dogs
devour him, let the air poison him, let the next crumb of bread choke
him, nay, let the dull ass spurn him to death.'
This is a notable specimen of zeal turned sour.
Bishop Hall was a Divine of solid learning and unquestionable piety,
whose memory is reverenced by a large and most respectable part of
the Christian world. He ranked amongst the best of his class, and,
generally speaking, was so little disposed to persecute his opponents
because of their heterodox opinions, that he wrote and published a
"Treatise on Moderation," in the course of which he eloquently
condemns the practice of regulating, or, rather, attempting to regulate
opinion by act of parliament; yet, incredible as it