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ESSAYS AND REVIEWS.

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ESSAYS AND REVIEWS.

LONDON:
.JOHN W. PARKER AND SON, WEST STRAND

1860.

[The 4uthoTB reserve the right of Translation.]

LONDON:
SAVILL AND EDWARDS. PRIJ.'{TE
S. C1IAlIDOS STnEET.
COVBNT GARDEN.

TO THE READER.

IT will readily be understood that the Authors of
the ensuing Essays are responsible for their respective
articles only. They have written in entire indepen-
dence of each other, and without concert or comparison.
The Volume, it is hoped, ,viTI be received as an
attempt to illustrate the advantage derivable to the
cause of religious and moral truth, from a free hand-
ling, in a becoming spirit, of subjects peculiarly liable
to suffer by the repetition of conventional language,
and from traditional methods of treatment.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

The Education of the World. By FREDERICK TEMPLE, D.D.,
Chaplain in Ordinary to the Queen; Head l\Iaster of
Rugby School; Chaplain to the Earl of Denbigh I
Bunsen's Biblical Researches. By ROWLAND 'VILLIAMS, D.D.,
Vice-Principal and Professor of Hebrew, St. David's
College, Lampeter; Vicar of Broad Chalke, 'Vilts 50
On the Study of the Evidences of Christianity. By BADEN
POWELL, J\I.A., F.R.S., &c. &c., Savilian Professor of
Geometry in the University of Oxford · . . . .. 94
Séances Historiques de Genève. The National Church. By
HENRY BRISTOW WILSON, B.D., Vicar of Great Staugh-
ton, Hunts . . . . . . . . . . . .. 145
20 7

On the Mosaic Oos'1nogony. By O. W. GOODWIN, J\I.A. .
Pendencies of Religious Thought in England, 1688-1750.
By l\IARK PATTISON, B.D. . . . . . . . . . .
On the Interpretation of Scripture. By BENJA
IIN JOWETT
l.I.A., Regius Professor of Greek in the U ni versity 0
Oxford. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

254

N ate on Bunsen's Biblical Researches .

· 33 0
· 434

THE EDUCATION OF THE 'VORI1D.

I N a world of mere phenornena, ,vhere all events are
bound to one another by a rigid la\v of cause and
effect, it is possible to imagine the course of a long
period bringing all things at the end of it into exactly
the same relations as they occ
pied at the beginning.
"\Ve should, then, 0 bviousl y have a succession of cycles
rigidly similar to one another, b?th in events and in
the sequence of them. The unIverse \vould eternally
repeat the sanle changes in a fixed order of recurrencE',
though 'each cycle might be many Inillions of years in
length. Moreover, the precise silnilarity of these
cycles \vould render the very existence of each one of
them entirely unnecessary. 1Ve can suppose, ,vithout
any logical inconsequence, anyone of then1 struck out,
and the t\VO ,vhich had been destined to precede and
follo\v it brought into immediate contiguity.
This supposition transforms the universe into a
dead machine. The lives and the souls of nlen
become so indifferent, that the annihilation of a whole
human race, or of many such races, is absolutely
nothing. Every event passes a\vay as it happens,
filling its place in the sequence, but purposeless for
the future. The order of all things becomes, not
merely an iron rule, from which nothing can ever
swerve, but an iron rule ,vhich guides to nothinO' and
ends in nothin
b
Such a supposition is possible to the logical under-
standing: it is noþ possible to the spirit. The hU)TIan
B

2

The Education of the lForld.

lleart refuses to believe in a universe without a pur-
pose. To the spirit, all things that exist must have a
purpose, and nothing can pass away till that purpose
be fulfilled. The lapse of tinle is no exception to this
delnand. Each mOlllent of titne, as it passes, is taken
up in the shape of permanent results into the time
that follo,vs, and only perishes by being converted
into something more substantial than itself. A series
of recurring cycles, ho,vever conceivable to the logical
understanding, is inconceivable to the spirit; for evel'y
later cycle nlust be nlade diflerent from every earlier
by the nlere fact of cOl1l.ing after it and enlbodying its
results.
rhe material \vorld may possibly be subject
to such a rule, and may, in successive epochs, be the
cradle of successive rël
es of spiritual beings. But the
,vol'ld of spirits cannot be a n1ere 111achine.
In accordance \vith this difference bet\\Teen the
nlaterial and the spiritual \vorlds, ,ve ought to be
prepared to fiud progress in the latter, ho\vever n1uch
fixity there may be in the f01'n1er. The earth nlay
still be describing precisely the sanle orbit as that
,vhich ,vas assigned to her at the creation. The sea.
sons lllay be precisely the saDIe. The planets, the
moon, and the stars, ll1ay be unchanged both in ap-
pearance and in reality. But man is a spiritual as
,veIl as a nlaterial creature, n1ust be subject to the h-l'vS
of the spiritual as ,veIl as to those of the 111aterial ,,",orld,
and cannot stand still because things around hiln do.
N O\V, that the individual nlan is capable of perpetual,
or ahnost perpetual, developll1ent fronl the day of his
birth to that of his death, is obvious of course. But
,ve l1lay ,veIl expect to find sOlnething 1110re than this
in a spiritual creature "rho does not stand alone, but
fornlS a part of a \v hole ,vorld of creatures like hilnself.
I\Ian cannot be considered as an individual. He is,
ill reality, only nlan by virtue of his "being a n1enlber
of the hUlllan race. Any other aniInal that ,ve kno\v
,vould probably not be very differe1}.t in its nature if

The Education qf the T/Torld.

3

brought up from its very birth apart from aU its
kind. A child so brought up becomes, as instances
could be adduced to prove, not a man in
he full sense
at all, but rather a beast in hun1an shape, \vith hUlllan
faculties, no doubt, hidden underneath, but \vith no
hope in this life of ever developing those faculties into
true hunlanity. If, then, the \vhole in this case, as in
so many others, is prior to the parts, "re Inay con-
clude, that ,ve are to look for that progress which is
essential to a spiritual being subject to the lapse of
time, not only in the individual, but also quite as
nluch in the race taken as a \vhole. We may expect
to find, in the history of man, each successive age in..
corporating into itself the substance of the preceding.
This po,ver, whereby the pl"esent ever gathers into
itself the results of the past, transforn1s the human
race into a colossal man, \vhose life reaches froll1 the
creation to the day of judgnlent. The successive
generations of Inen are days in this nlan's life. The
discoveries and inventions \vhich characterize the dif-
ferent epochs of the ,varld's history are his \vorks.
The creeds and doctrines, the opinions and principles
of the successive ages, are his thoughts. The state of
society at different times are his manners. He gro\vs
in knowledge, in self-control, in visible size, just as \ve
do. And his education is in the salne \vay and for
the same reason precisely similar to ours.
All this is no figure but only a compendious state-
ment of a very cOlnprehensive fact. The child that
is born to-day may possibly have the same faculties
as if he had been born in the days of Noah; if it be
otherwise, we possess no 11leans of deternlining the
difference. But the equality of the natural faculties
at :-;tarting \vill not prevent a vast difference in their
ultinlate development. That c1evelopn1ent is entirely
under the control of the influences exerted by the
society in \vhich the child may chance to live. If
such society be altogether denied, the faculties perish,
B Z

4

The Education of the "Torld.

and the child (as remal"ked above) gro\vs up a beast
and not a n1an; if the society be uneducated and
coarse, the gro\vth of the faculties is early so stunted
as never after\vards to be capable of recovery; if the
society be highly cultivated, the child v\rill be cul
i-
vated also, and \vill sho\v, 11101'e or less, through lIfe
the fruits of that cultivation. Hence each generation
receives the benefit of the cultivation of that ,vhich
preceded it. Not in kno\y}edge only but in develop-
lllcnt of po\yers the child of t\\yelve no\v stands at the
level \",here once stood the child of fourteen, \vhere
uges ago stood the full-gro\vn n1an. The discipline
of n13nners, of tenl per, of thought, of feeling, is trans-
111itted fron1 generation to generation, and at eacll
t.ransnIission there is an in1perceptible but unfailing
increase. The perpetual acculllulation of tIle stores
of kno\vledge is so nIuch n101"e visible than the change
in the other ingredients of hlunan progress, that \ve
are apt to fancy that kno\vledge gro\vs, and kno\vledge
only. I :shall not stop to exarnine \vhether it be true
(as is sOllletinles nlaintained) that all progress in
hU111an society is but the effect of the progress of
kno\vledge. For the present, it is enough to point
out that kno\vledge is not the only possession of the
hUlll3n spirit in \v hich progress can be traced.
'Ve l1l3Y, then, rightly speak of a childhood, a
youth, and a manhood of the \vorld. The nIen of the
earliest ages \vere, in many respects, still children as
cUlllpared \vith ourselves, \vith all the blessings and \vith
all the disadvantages that belong to childhood. \,,.. e
reap the fruits of their toil, and bear in our characters
the inlpress of their cultivation. Our characters have
grO\Yll out of their history, as the character of the nlan
gro\\Ts out of the history of the child. There are
nuttters in \vhich the sinlplicity of ehildhood is wiser
than the n1aturity of TIlanhood, and in these they yçere
\vis
r than ,ve. There are Inatt3rs in \\yhich the chillI
is nothing, and the lllan eYlrj ching, and in these ,ye

The Education 0/ the "7orld.

5

a.re the gainers. And the process by ,vhich \ve have
either lo
t or gained corresponds, stage by stage, \vith
the process by \vhich the infant is trained for youth,
and the youth for nlanhood.
This training has three stages. In cllildhood 1ve
are subject to positive rules ,vhich we cannot under-
stand, but are bound implicitly to obey. In youth
\ve are subject to the influence of example, and soon
break loose fronl all rules unless illustrated and
enforced by the higher teaching \vhich example im-
parts. In manhood ,ve are cOlnparatively free from
external restraints, and if \ve are to learn, nlust be our
o\vn instructors. First come Rules, then Exalnples, then
Principles. First C0111eS the La,v, then the Son of
l\Ian, then the Gift of the Spirit. The ,vorld ,vas
once a child under tutors and governors until the
time appointed by the Father. Then, ,vhen the fit
season had arrived, the EXêunple to \vhich all ages
should turn ""as sent to teach nlen what they ought
to be. Then the human race ,vas left to itself to be
guided by the teaching of the Spirit ,vi thin.
The education of the ,vorld, like that of the child,
begins with La\v. It is Ì111possible to explain the
reasons of all the conllnands that you give to a child,
and you do not endeavour to do so. 'Vhen he is to
go to bed, ,vhen he is to get up, how he is to sit,
stand, eat, drink, 1vhat ans\vers he is to Inake \yhen
spoken to, ,vhat he Inay touch and ,vhat he Inay not,
what prayers he shall say and \vhen, ,vhat lessons he
is to learn, every detail of manners and of conduct
the careful mother teaches her child, and req uires
implicit obedience. 1\Iingled together in her teaching
are commands of the most trivial character and conl-
mands of the gravest importance; their relative value
marked by a difference of nlanner rather than byany-
thing else, since to explain it is Ì1npossible.
Iean-
,vhile to the child obedience is the highest duty,
affection the highest stimulus, tIle mother's ,vord the

i

6

J 1 he Education of the "TO rId.

highest sanction. The conscience is alive, but it is,
like the other faculties at that age, irregular, unde-
veloped, easily deceived. The n10ther does not leave
it uncultivated, nor refuse sonletimes to explain her
nlotives for conlmanding or forbidding; but she never
thinks of putting the j udgnlent of the child against
her O\Yll, nor of cOllsidering the child's conscience as
having a right to free action.
As the child gro\ys olde. the education changes its
character, not so nluch in regard to the sanction of its
precepts as in regard to their tenor. 1\Iore stress is
laid upon matters of real duty, less upon nlatters of
· 111ere lnanner. Falsehood, quarrelling, bad tenlper,
greediness, indolence, are lllore attended to than times
of going to bed, or fashions of eating, or postures in
sitting. The boy is allo\ved to feel, and to sho\v that
he feels, the difference bet\veen different comnlands.
But he is still not left to hinlself: and though points
of lUanneI' are not put on a level \vith points of con-
duct, they are by no nleans neglected. l\Ioreover,
\yhile luuch stress is laid upon his deeds, little is laid
upon his opinions; he is rightly supposed not to have
any, and \villnot be allo\ved to plead thenl as a reason
for disobedience.
After a time, ho\vever, the intellect begins to assert
a right to enter into all questions of duty, and the
intellect accordingly is cultivated. The reason is ap-
pealed to in all questions of conduct: the conse-
quences of folly or sin are pointed out, and the
punishnlellt \vhich, ,vithout any miracle, God invariably
brings upon those \,,110 disobey His natural hl\VS-
ho\v, for instance, falsehood destroys confidence and
incurs contenlpt ; ho\v indulgence in appetite tends to'
brutal and degrading habits; ho\v ill-tenlper may end
in crinle, and lllUst end in mischief. Thus the con-
science is reached through the understanding.
K O\V, precis
ly analogous to all this is the history
of the education of the early ,,-orld. The earliest

The Education oj the llTorld.

"..
I

con1mands almost entirely l
efer to bodily appetites
and anin1al passions. The earliest ,vide-spread sin
was brutal violence. 'l:'hat ,vilfulness of telllper,
-those gernls of \vanton cruelty, \vhich the 1110ther
corrects so easily in her infant, "'"ere developed in
the earliest forDl of hUDlan society into a prevailing
plague of \vickedness. The fe,v notices ,vhich are given
of that state of n1ankind do not present a picture of
mere la\vlessness, such as "
e find anlong the medieval
nations of Europe, but of blind, gross ignorance of
thenlselves and all around the1n. A theisn1 is possible
no,v, but I.Jamech's presulnptuous cOlllparison of hinl-
self ,,'"ith God is inlpossible, and the thought of
building a to\ver high enough to escape God's ,vrath
could enter no nlan's drean1s. 'Ve sometinles see in
very little children a violence of tenlper ,vhich seen1S
hardly human: add to such a tenlper the strength of
a full-gro,vn man, and we shall perhaps understand
what is meant by the expression, that the earth \vas
filled ,vith violence.
'Tiolence ,vas follo\ved by sensuality. Such "'"as
the sin of Noah, HaIn, Sodom, Lot's daughters, and
the guilty Canaanites. Anilnal appetites-the appe-
tites \vhich ll1Ust be subdued in childhood if they are
to be subdued at all-\vere still the temptation of
lllankincl. Such sins are, it is true, prevalent in the
,yorld even no,v. But the peculiarity of these early
forms of licentiousness is their utter disregard of
every kind of restraint, and this constitutes their
childish character.
The education of this early race may strictly be
said to begin ,vhen it \vas forllled into the various
"lnasses out of ,vhich the nations of the earth have
sprung. The ,,'"orld, as it \vere, went to school, and
\yas broken up into classes. Before that time it can
hardly be said that any great precepts had been given.
The only comnlands ,vhieh claim an earlier date are the
prohibitions of n1urder and of eating blood. And

8

The Education of the World.

these may be considered as given to all alike. But
the ,vhole lesson of hunlanity ,vas too much to be
learned by all at once. Different parts of it fell to the
task of different parts of the human race, and for a
long tilne, though the education of the "vorld flo"ved
in parallel channels, it did not fornl a single stream.
The J e,vish nation, selected anlong all as the
depository of ,vhat may be ternled, in a pre-eminent
sense, religious truth, received, after a short prepara-
tion, the l\Iosaic systenl. This systenl is a nlixture
of nloral ëlnd positive commands: the latter, precise
and particular, ruling the customs, the festivals, the
,vorship, the daily food, the dress, the very touch; the
former large, clear, simple, peremptory. 1'here is
very little directly spiritual. No freedom of conduct
or of opinion is allo,ved. The difference bet,veen dif-
ferent precepts is not forgotten; nor is all natural
judgment in morals excluded. But the reason for all
the minute commands is never given. "\Vhy they
lllay eat t.he sheep and not the pig they are not told.
The conlnlands are not confined to general principles,
but run into such details as to forbid tattooing or dis-
figuring the person, to command the ,vearing of a
blue fringe, and the like. That suell cOlllnlands
should be sanctioned by divine authority is utterly
irreconcileable ,vith our present feelings. But in the

Iosaic systenl the sanIe perelnptory legislation deals
,vith all these nlatters, ,vhether ÎInportant or trivial.

rhe fact is, that ho\vever trivial they Inight be in
relation to the authority ,vhich they invoked, they ,vere
not trivial in relation to the people ,vho "yere to be
governed and taught.
1"he teaching of the La,v ,vas follo,ved by the com-
ments of the .Prophets. It is inlpossible to nlistake
the c0111plete change of tone and spirit. The ordi-
nances indeed renIaiu, and the obligation to observe
thelll is al\\Tays assumed. But they have sunk to the
second place. 'The national attention is distinctly

The Education of the World.

9

fixed on the higher precepts. Disregard of the ordi-
nances is, in fact, rarely noticed, in conlparison \vith
breaches of the great human la\vs of love and brotherly
kindness, of truth and justice. There are but t\VO
sins against the cerenlonialla\y which receive marked
attention-idolatry and sabbatll-breaking; and these
do not occupy a third of the space devoted to the
denunciation of cruelty and oppression, of nlal-
achninistration of justice, of inlpurity and intenl-
perance. Nor is the change confined to the precepts
enforced: it extends to the sanction 'v hich enforces
them. Throughout the Prophets there is an evident
reference to the decision of individual conscience,
which can rarely be found in the Books of 1\Ioses.
Sonletilnes, as in Ezekiel's comnlent on the Second
Conlnlandment, a distinct appeal is made froln the
letter of the law to the voice of natural equity.
Sometimes, as in the opening of Isaiah, the cerenlO-
nial sacrifices are condemned for the sins of those ,vho
offered them. Or, again, fasting is spiritualized into
self-denial. An d the tone taken in this teaching is
such as to ilnply a previous breach, not so 111uch of
positive commands, as of natural morality. It is
assumed that the hearer ,vill find within himself a
sufficient
anction for the precepts. It is no longer,
as in the la,v, 'I anI the Lord;' but, 'Hath not he
sho,ved thee, 0 lnan, ,vhat is good?' And hence the
style becomes argumentative instead of perenlptory,
and the teacher pleads instead of dogmatizing. In
the ll1eanwhile, ho,vever, no hint is ever giyen of a
}Jernlission to dispense ".,.ith the ordinances eyen in
the least degree. The child is old enough to under-
stand, but not old enough to be left to hilnself. He
is not yet a nlan. He must still conforln to the rules
of his father's house, ,vhether or not those rules suit
his temper or approve thelnselves to his judgment.
rrhe comments of the Prophets were follo,ved in
their turn by the great Lesson of the Captivity. Then

10 The Education of the World.
for the first tinle the J e,ys learned, what that r
aw and
the Prophets had been for centuries vainly endea-
vouring to teach theIn, nanlely, to abandon for ever
polytheis1ll and idolatry. But though this change in
their national habits and character is unnlistakeable,
it nlight seem at first sight as if it ,yere no 1110re than
an external and superficial anlendulent, and that their
gro\vth in moral and spiritual clearness, though trace-
able \vith certainty up.. to this date, at any rate
received a check after,vards. For it is undeniable
that, in the time of our Lord, the Sadducees had
lost all depth of spiritual feeling, ,vhile the Pharisees
had succeeded in converting the 1\losaic system
into so nlischievous an idolatl'y of forms, that St.
Paul does not hesitate to call the la\v the strength
of sin. But in spite of this it is nevertheless clear
that even the Pharisaic teaching contained elements
of a nlore spiritual religion than the originall\Iosaie
systenl. r
rhus, for instance, the inlportance attached
by the Pharisees to praJTer is not be found in the la\v.
The \vorship under the la\v consisted almost entirely
of sacrifices. With the sacrifices ,ve may presuIlle that
prayer \yas al\vays offered, but it ,vas not positively
C0111nlanded; and, as a regular and necessary part of
,vorship, it first appears in the later books of the Old
Testanlent, and is never even there so earnestly insisted
upon as afterwards by the Pharisees. It \vas in fact
in the captivity, far fronl the telnple and the sacrifices
of the tenlple, that the J e\vish people first learned that
the spiritual part of \vorship could be separated from
the cereIl1onial, ancl that of the t\VO the spiritual \vas
far the higher. The first introduction of preaching
and the reading of the Bible in the synagogues
belong to the saIne date. The careful study of the
la\v, though it degenerated into fornlality, \yas yet in
itself a lTIOre intellectual service than the earlier
records exhibit. And this study also, though conl-
l11encing earlier, attains its maxinlum after the cap-

The EdllcatioJz of tlte TfTorld.

11

tivit:r; the Psaln1ists ,yho delight in the study of the
la\v are all, or nearly all, nluch later than David; and
the enthusiasm \vith ,vhich the study is praised in...
creases as ,ve conle do,vn. In short, the J e\vish nation
had lost very 11Iuch ,vhen John the Baptist calne to
prepare the ,yay for his l\Iaster; hut tiIl1e had not
stood still, nor had that course of education ,vhereby
the J e\v ,vas to be fitted to give the last revelation
to the ,vorld.
The results of this discipline of the J e,vish nation
nlay be SUnlll1ed up in t\VO poillts-a settled national
belief in the unity and spirituality of God, and an
ackno\vledglnent of the paranl.ount inlportance of
chastity as a point of 1l1orals.
The conviction of the unity and spirituality of God
,vas peculiar to the J e,ys among the pioneers of civili...
zation. Greek philosophers had, no doubt, COlne to
the sallIe conclusion by dint of reason. Noble nlinds
l11ay often have been enabled to raise then1selves to the
salne height in mOlnents of generous enlotion. nut
everyone kllo,yS the difference bet\veen an opinion
and a practical conviction-bet-w.een a scientific deduc...
tion or a monlentary insight and that habit \vhich
has become second nature. Everyone, also, kno,vs
the difference bet\veen a tenet maintained by a fe,v
intellectual ll1en far in advance of their age, and a
belief pervading a \vhole people, penptrating all their
daily life, leavening all their occupations, incorporated
into their very language. To the great lllass of the
Gentiles, at the tiule of our Lord, pol ytheisnl ,vas the
natural posture of the thoughts into ,vhich their
nlinds unconsciously settled \vhen undisturbed by
doubt or difficulties. To every J e\v, \vithout excep-
tion, monotheislll was equally natural. To the Gen-
tile, eyen \vhen converted, it ,vas, for some titne, still
an effort to abstain fi
onl idols; to the J e\v it \vas no
more an effort than it is to us. The bent of the
J e\vish mind ,vas, in fact, SQ fixeq by their previous

12

The Edllcat-ion oj the World.

training that it ,vould have required a perpetual and
difficult strain to enable a J e\v to join in sucll folly.
'Ve do not readily realize ho\v hard this was to
acquire, because ,ve have never had to acquire it : and
in reading the Old Testament \ve look on the repeated
idolatries of the chosen people as \vilful backslidings
fron1 an elen1entary truth ,'{ithin the reach of children,
rather than as stun1 blings in learning a "Very difficult
lesson-difficult even for cultivated n1en. In reality,
eleluentary truths are thè hardest of all to learn, un-
less ,ve pass our childhood in an atmosphere
thoroughly in1pregnated ,vith then1; and then "e
ill1bibe them unconsciously, and find it difficult to
perceive their difficulty.
It \yas the fact that this belief ,vas not the tenet of
the few, but the habit of the nation, ,vhich made the
J e\vs the proper instrun1ents for con1111unicating the
doctrine to the ,vorld. They supported it, not by
arguH1ents, ,,
hich al\vays provoke replies, and rarely,
at the best, penetrate deeper than the intellect; but
by the uuconscious evidence of their lives. They
supplied that spiritual atnlosphere in which alone the
faith of new conyerts could attain to yigorous life.
r.fhey supplied forms of language and expression fit
for in1nlediate and constant use. They supplied devo-
tions to fill the void ,vhich departed idolatry left be-
hind. The rapid spread of the Prin1itive Church,
and the depth to 'v hich it struck its roots into the
decaying society of the Ron1an eU1pire, are unques-
tionably due, to a great extent, to the body of J e,vish
proselytes already establi
hed in' every in1l)ortant
city, and to the existence of the Old 1'estalnent as a
reaùY-Il1ade text-book of devotion and instruction.
Side by side ",.ith this freedolTI frolll idolatry there
had grown up in the J e,vish n1ind a chaster morality
than ,vas to be founù else\vhere in the ,vorld. There
,vere Inany points, undoubt.ec1ly, in ,vhich the early
morality of the Greeks and I
Oll1al1S \vould ,veIl bear

The Education of the Worlå.

13

a conlparison with that of the Hebrews. In sinl-
plicity of life, in gentleness of character, in warnlth
of synlpathy, in kindness to the poor, in justice to all
lllen, the Hebre,ys could not have rivalled the best
days of Greece. In reverence for la\v, in reality of obe-
dience, in calmness under trouble, in dignity of self-
respect, they could not have rivalled the best days of
ROBle. But the sins of the flesh corrupted both these
races, and the flo\ver of their finest virtues had
\\
ithered before the tilne of our Lord. In chastity
the Hebre,vs stood alone; and this virtue, \vhich had
gro\vn up \vith them from their earliest days, ,vas
still in the vigour of fresh life \vhen they \\7'ere COffi-
nlissioned to give the Gospel to the nations. The
Hebre\v In orality has passed into the Christian
church, and sins of impurity (,vhich ,val' against the
soul) have ever since been looked on as the type of
all evil; and our Litany selects thelll as the eX
lnple
of deadly sin. 1Vhat sort of morality the Gentiles
\vould have handed do\vn to us, had they been left
to thenlselves, is clear from the Epistles. The excesses
of the Gentile party at Corinth (1 Cor. V. 2), the first
warning given to the Thessalonians (I Thes. iv. 3),
the first ,yarning given to the Galatians (Gal. v. 19),
the description of the Gentile \vOTld in the Epistle to
the Ronlans, are sufficient indications of the prevail-
ing Gentile sin. But St. J alnes, ,vriting to the
Hebre,v Christians, says not a word upon the subject,
and St. Peter barely alludes to it.
The idea of nlo11otheism and the principle of
purity 11light seem hardly enough to be the chief
results of so systelnatic a discipline as that of the
Hebre\vs. But, in reality, they are the cardinal points
in education. The idea of 11lonotheisnl outtops all
other ideas in dignity and \vorth. The spirituality of
God involves in it the suprell1acy of conscience, the
Í1nnlortality of the soul, the final judgnlent of the
human race. For \ve kno
v the other ,vorId, and can

(nly know i.... by anal :::'.. ' drawn fron1 our own expe-
rience. W.ill what.. then, shall we com . e God:
'\ì
he
piri ualoI' he e
hlypartofournature: On
the an
we'9" dc-pend, the "hole bt: of our r
li;ioD and
0" our mOl"" - \. For" h. - in ()ur
_l\è" which \\t'
ch ' a
he
èarf""- anal :!\ 0 t1cd mIl 0 cou
.
lookoo on .;; the rnlin,?-" d ....
...- f! 0 onr

m;r. I He be one and ':piriroal -hen the
piri ual
_- '\\c-r m&in
. which p1'OClaim
i
O
unity and
independence 0 m'- -- r by the uID,
3li7 i ...
d rè(
mu
be er:-.h fulDlonarch of our Ii, "; bu
:... - e're be G ,man-i and L rd
man, ID
h bodil
ap '- - i- 5 and animal" ......iolli then .l
,oice 0 cûn-

ien .
bu one 0 mde-
prea deln ...ions
"hie

_me or 10 _ _
me or a ,ho r ,-ric.d,
_ ,e" "be è""e now miJ.eJ. ill r J..::ain -he _ me
Ïmpt. "hi -h we ....-=
mOD lsm
a
'\\è IDfu ....'JZJl -
,,, a e..Å.m _ all
:he TI W"meh "- .

"Y\ A
ìlbdll in ord
r 0

d u hum c - -,., r
n ne -
l. m t:Ü in : -yo-::= r in rirnlen .
1- u
, kill h 11:

- - he
_ ' ; .-
- e::Òér
-in- -;1- ..;, -}- }-"
Bu 1 'Ìd ' _ .

..
I

.
\L.u.....

madd

.. -

.. ..
....

1

,e .. er

le _ rr
1 0
, E_
R C
-h --

.;"

n u r.

A.nd

'7'

;; -

p

-} , and A'5IT

;;

T',
yo
...: '\

T "\

ril .. .h

'\\ t:"

\'

,

-

....

. .
--

H "?' .;:

.- 1

:!'"

r _ _

0;;.

""

........

.. ..

.....
--- - -

---
- ---- .

The Ed Ication 01 the TV orl .

15

systems of La,,", given also bJ- God, though not given
by revelation but by the "
orking ûf nature, and con-
sequently:;o di::;torted and adulterated that in lap
e
of time the divine element in them had almo
t
perished. The poetical god
of Greece, the leoendary
gods of Rome, the animal wor,hip of Egypt, the sun
'\vorship of the East, all accompanied by 'ys em"- of
law and civil government
prinaing from the ame
:-;ources a
thenl
elves, namely, the character and
tenlper of the several nations, were the mean
of
educating these people to
imilar purpose
in the
economy of Providence to that for which the Rebre"

,vere de.stined.
\\hen the seed of the Gospel wa
first
own, the
field which had been prepared to receive it may be
divided into four chief divisions, Rome, Greece, .Å
ia,
and Judea. Each of these contributed some thin!! to
the gro\\1:h of the future Church. .1.nd the gro
vth
of the Church is, in this c
e, the development of the
human race. It cannot indeed yet be said that all
humanity has united into one stream; but the
Christian nation, have
o unque'tionably taken the
lead amon
t their fellow;:" that althouoh it is likely
enough the unconverted peoples may have a real part
to play, that part mu
t be plainly quite subordinate;
subordinate in a sense in ,,-hich neither Rome, nor
Greece, nor perhaps even .à
ia, ,,-as ;::,ubordin"1te to
J udea.
It is not difficult to trace the chief elements of
civilization ,vhich we ov,-e to each of the four. Rome
contributed her admirable spirit of order and or
.mi-
zation. To her had been given the geniu5 of govern-
ment.
he had been trained to it by centuries of
difficlùt and tumulhl0U' hi5tor'
. Storm
which would
have rent asunder the frame"-
rk of any other polit
r
only practised her in the art of controllin
poptùar
P assions; and ,,
hen
he be
an to aim conscio
ly

w
at the Elnpire of the "
orId, she llad already learnEd

16 The Education of the lVorld.
her lesson. She had learned it as the Hebrews had
learned theil'R, by an enforced obedience to her own
system. In. no nation of antiquity had civil officers
the same unquestioned authority during their term of
office, or la"\vs and judicial rules the same reverence.
That "\vhich religion "vas to the Jew, including even
the formalism which encrusted and fettered it, law was
to the Roman. And law was the lesson ,vhich Rome
,vas intended to teach the ,vorld. Hence the Bishop of
Rome soon becanle the Head of the Church. Rome
was, in fact, the centre of the traditions which 11ad
once governed the world; and their spirit still re-
mained; and the Roman Church developed into the
papacy sin1ply because a head ,vas wanted, and no
better one could be found. Hence again in all the
doctrinal disputes of the fourth and fifth centuries the
decisive voice caIne froln ROIne. Every controversy ,vas
finally settled by her opinion, because she alone possessed
the art of framing formulas "\vhich could hold together
in any reasonable measure the endless variety of sen-
timents and feelings "\vhich the Church by that time
comprised. It was this power of administering law
,yhich enabled the Western Church, in the tilne of
Charlemagne, to undertake, by nleans of her bishops, the
ta
k of t.raining and civilizing the new population of
Europe. To l
ome ,ve o\ve the forIns of local govern-
Inent \vhich in England have saved liberty and else-
,vhere have mitigated despotisnl. Justinian's la,vs
have penetrated into all modern legislation, and al1110st
all improvements bring us only nearer to his code.
l\luch of the spirit of modern politics came fron1
Greece; 11luch froln the ,voods of Germany. But the
skeleton and frame,vork is aln10st entirely l
oman.
And it is not this frame,vork only that comes froln
Rome. The moral sentiments and the moral force
\vhich lie at the back of all political life and are abso-
lutely indispensable to its vigour are in great measure
1
on1an too. It is true that the life and po,ver of all

The Education of the World.

J7

morality whatever "viII al,vays be dra,vn from the N e,v
Testament; yet it js in the history of Rome rather
than in the Bible that ,ve find our models and pre-
cepts of political duty, and especially of the duty of
patriotism. St. Paul bids us follo,v ,vhatsoever things
are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report. But
except through such general appeals to natural feeling
it ,vould be difficult to prove fi'om the N e,v Testan1ent
that cowardice ,vas not only disgraceful but sinful,
and that love of our country ,vas an exalted duty of
hUlnanity. That lesson our consciences have learnt
froln the teaching of Ancient Rome.
To Greece was entrusted the cultivation of the
reason and the taste. Her gift to mankind has
been science and art. There ,vas little in her temper
of the spirit of reverence. Her morality and her
religion did not spring from the conscience. Her
gods ,vere the creatures of in1agination, not of spiritual
need. Her highest idea ,vas, not holiness, as ,vith the
Hebre,v-s, nor la\v, as ,vith the Romans, but beauty.
Even Aristotle, ,yho assuredly gave way to mere
sentiment as little as any Greek that ever lived,
placed the Beautiful (rò KUÀÓV) at the head of his moral
system, not the Right, nor the Holy. Greece, in fact,
,vas not looking at another ,vorld, nor even striving
to organize the present, but rather aiming at the
developn1ent of free nature. The highest possible
cultivation of the individual, the most finished per-
fection of the natural faculties, was her dreanl. It is
true that her philosophers are ever talking of subordi-
nating the individual to the state. But in reality
there never has been a period in history nor a country
in the world, in which the peculiarities of individual
telnper and character had freer play. This is not the
best atll10sphere for political action; but it is better
than any other for giving vigour and life to the im-
pulses of genius, and for cultivating those faculties, the
reason and taste, in ,vhich the highest genius ean be
c

18

The Education of the World.

shown. Such a cultivation needs discipline less than
any. And of all the nations Greece had the least of
systematic discipline, least of instinctive deference t.o
anyone leading idea. But for the same reason the
cultivation required less time than any other; and the
national life of Greece is the shortest of all. Greek
history hardly begins before Solon, and it harcUy
continues after Alexander, barely covering 200 years.
But its fruits are eternal. To the Greeks we o\ve the
logic \vhich has ruled the minds of all thinkers since.
All our natural and physical science really begins
with the Greeks, and indeed would have been im-
possible had not Greece taught men how to reason.
To the Greeks \ve o\ve the corrective \v hich conscience
needs to borrow from nature. Conscience, startled at
the a\vful truths \vhich she has to reveal, too often
threatens to withdra\v the soul into gloon'lY and per-
verse asceticisnl: then is needed the beauty which
Greece taught us to adlnire, to show us another aspect
of the Divine Attributes. To the Greeks \ve o\ve
all modern literature. For though there is other
literature even older than the Greek, the Asiatic for
instance, and the Hebre\v, yet we did not learn this
lesson from theln; they had not tIle genial life \v hich
\vas needed to kindle other nations \vith tIle commu-
nication of their own fire.
The discipline of Asia \vas the never-ending succes-
sion of conquering dynasties, follo\ving in each other's
track like waves, an ever moving yet never advancing
ocean. Cycles of change \vere successively passing
over her, and yet at the end of every cycle she stood
where she had stood before, and nearly \Vllere she stands
no\v. The growth of Europe has dwarfed her in com-
parison, and she is paralysed in presence of a gigantic
strength younger but mightier than her o\vn. But in
herself she is no \veaker than she ever was. The
nlonarchs \vho once led Assyrian, or Babylonian, or
Persian armies across half the world, impose on us by
the vast extent and rapidity of their conquests; but

The Education of the World.

19

these conquests had in reality no substance, no inherent
strength. This perpetual baffling of all earthly pro..
gress taught Asia to seek her inspiration in rest. She
learned to fix her thoughts upon another ,vorld, and was
disciplined to check by her silent protest the over-
earthly, over-practical tendency of the vVestern nations.
She was ever the one to refuse to measure Heaven by the
standard of earth. Her teeming imagination filled the
church with thoughts 'undreamt of in our philosophy.'
She had been the instrulnent selected to teach the He-
bre,vs the doctrine of the Immortality of the Soul; for
"\yhatever may be said of the early notions on this sub-
ject, it is unquestionable that in Babylon the J e,vs first
attained the clearness and certainty in regard to it ,vhich
we find in the teaching of the Pharisees. So again,
Athanasius, a thorough Asiatic in sentilnent and in
mode of arguing, ,vas the bul,vark of the doctrine of the
Trinity. The 'Vestern nations are al,vays tempt,ed to
make reason not only supreme, but despotic, and dis-
like to acknowledge n1ysteries even in religion. They
are inclined to confine all doctrines ,vithin the lin1its of
spiritual utility, and to refuse to listen to dim voices
and ,vhispers from ,vithin, those instinct,s of doubt, and
reverence, and a,ve, ,vhich yet are, in their place and
degree, messages froll1 the depths of our being. Asia
supplies the corrective by perpetually leaning to the
mysterious. 'Vhen left to herself, she settles down to
baseless dreams, and sometill1es to monstrous and re-
volting fictions. But her influence has never ceased to
be felt, and could not be lost ,vithout serious dalnage.
Thus the Hebre,vs lnay be said to have disciplined
the hUll1an conscience, Rome the hUll1an ,viti, Greece
the reason and taste, Asia the spiritual ill1agination.
Other races that have been since adn1itted into Chris-
tendom also did their parts. And others may yet bave
something to contriLute; for though the time for dis-
cipline is childhood, yet there is no precise line beyond
which all discipline ceases. Even the grey-haired
c 2

20

The Education of the "Torld.

nlan has yet some small capacity for learning like a
child; and even in the ll1aturity of the ,vorld the early
lllodes of teaching may yet find a place. But the
childhood of the world ,vas over ,vhen our Lord
appeared on earth. The tutors and governors had
done their work. It was tinle that the second teacher
of the human race should begin his labour. The
second teacher is Example.
The child is not insensible to the influence of exa111ple.
Even in the earliest years the manners, the language,
the principles of the elder begin to mould the character
of the younger. There are not a few of our acquire-
ments ,vhich we learn by example ,vithout any, or ,vith
very little, direct instruction-as, for instance, to speak
and to ,valle But still example at that age is secondary.
The child is quite conscious that he is not on such
an equality ,vith gro,vn-up friends as to enable hiln to
do as they do. He imitates, but he kno,vs that it is
merely play, and he is quite ,villing to be told that he
l1lust not do this or that till he is older. As ti111e goes
on, and the faculties expand, the po,ver of discipline to
guide the actions and to mould the character decreases,
and in the sanle proportion the l)o\ver of examl)le gro,vs.
The nloral atmosphere must be brutish indeed which
can do deep harnl to a child of four years. But ,vhat
is harmless at four is pernicious at six, and almost fatal
at t,velve. The religious tone of a household ,viII hardly
lnake much inlpression on an infant; but it ,viII deeply
engrave its lessons on the lleart of a boy gro,ving
to,varcls manhood. Different faculties ,vithin us begin
to feel the power of this new guide at different times.
The l110ral sentiuIents are perhaps the first to expand
to the influence; but gradually the exalnple of those
anlong Wh0111 the life is cast lays hold of all the soul,-
of the tastes, of the opinions, of the aims, of the temper.
As each restraint of discipline is successively cast off,
the soul does not gain at first a real, but only an
apparent freedom. The youth, ,vhen too old for dis-
cipline, is not yet strong enough to guide his life by

The Education of the World.

21

fixed principles. He is led by his emotions and
impulses. He adn1ires and loves, he condemns and
dislikes \vith enthusiasm. And his love and admira-
,
tion, his disapproval and dislike, are not his own, but
borrü\ved from his society. He can appreciate a
character, though he cannot yet appreciate a principle.
He cannot \valk by reason and conscience alone; he
still needs those 'supplies to tIle imperfection of our
nature' which are given by the higher passions. lIe
cannot follo,v 'v hat his heart does not love as ,veIl as
his reason approve; and he cannot love what is pre-
sented to him as an abstract rule of life, but requires
a living person. He needs to see virtue in the concrete,
before he can recognise her aspect as a divine idea. He
instinctively copies those ,vhomhe adn1ires,and in doing
so iUlbibes ,vhatever gives the colour to their character.
He repeats opinions ,vithout really understanding them,
and in that ,yay admits their infection into his judg-
ment. He acquir
s habits ,vhich seem of no conse-
quence, but ,vhich are the channels of a thousand ne,v
impulses to his soul. If he reads, he treats the cha-
racters that he n1eets vlith in his book as friends or
enemies, and so unconsciously allo"\\Ts them to n10uld
his soul. When he seems nlost independent, most
defiant of external guidance, he is in reality only so
much the less lnaster of himself, only
o Dluch the
more guided and formed, not iudeed by the ,vill, Lut by
the example and sympathy of others.
The po\ver of exan1ple probably never ceases during
life. Even old age is not ,vholly uninfluenced by
society; and a change of companions acts upon the
character long after the character ,vould appear in-
capable of further developnlent. The influence, in
fact, dies out just as it gre\v; and as it is impossible
to mark its beginning, so is it to nlark its encl. The
child is governed by the ,viII of its parents; the lnan by
principles and habits of his o,vn. But neither is insen-
sible to the influence of associates, though neither finds
in that influence the predon1Ínant po,ver of his life.

22

The Education of the World.

This, then, ,y hich is born witll our birtll and dies
\vith our death, attains its maxin1ull1 at some point in
the passage from one to the other. And this point is
just the 111eeting point of the child and the man, tI1e
brief interval,vhich separates restraint from liberty.
Young Inen at this period are learning a peculiar lesson.
They seeln to those ,vho talk to thelll to be Í111bibing
froln their associates and their studies principles both
of faith and conduct. But the rapid fluctuations of
their ll1inds show that their opinions have not really
the nature of principles. They are really learning, not
principles, but the nlaterials out of ,vhich principles
are made. They drink in tIle lessons of generous im-
pulse, ,varIn unselfishness, courage, self - devotion,
ron1antic disregard of \vorldly calculations, without
kno\ving what are the grounds of their o\vn approba-
tion, or caring to analyse the la ,vs and ascertain the
liInits of such guides of conduct. They believe,
without exact attention to tIle evidence of their belief;
and their opinions have accordingly the richness and
warn1th that belongs to sentiment, but not the clearness
or firn1ness that can be given by reason. These affec-
tions, \vhich are no,v kindled in their hearts by the
contact of their fellows, ,viII after\vards be the reservoir
of life and Jight, with \vhich their faith and their
llighest conceptions ,vill be anin1ated and coloured.
The opinions no,v picked up, apparently not really,
at ra1ldom, must hereafter give reality to the clearer
and Inore settled convictions of ll1ature manhood. If
it ,vere not for these, the ideas and la\vs after\yards
supplied by reason ,vould be en1pty forlns of thought,
,vithout body or substance; the faith would run a
risk of being the forlH of godliness ,vithout the power
thereof. And hence the lessons of this tinle have such
an attractiveness in their ,varn1th and life, that they
are very reluctantly exchanged for the truer and pro-
founder, but at first sight colder ,visdonì ,vhich is
destined to follo\v then1. To almost all Inel1 this
period is a bright spot to \vhich the men10ry ever after-

The Education of the World.

23

warc1s loves to recur; and even those ,vho can relllember
nothing but folly-folly too which they have repented
and relinquishpd-yet find a nameless charm in recall-
ing such folly as that. For
nc1eed even folly itself at
this age is sometimes the cup out of ,vhich lllen quaff
the richest blessings of our nature-simplicity, gene-
rosity, affection. This is the seed time of the soul's har-
vest, anc1 contains the promise of the year. I t is the
time for love and marriage, the time for forming life-
long friendships. The after life may be more contented,
but can rarely be so glad and joyous. Two things \ve
need to cro,vn its blessings-one is, that the friends
,vhonl \ve then learn to love, and the opinions ,vhich
,ve then learn to cherish, may stand the test of time,
and deserve the esteem and approval of callner thoughts
and wider experience; the other, that our hearts IDay
have depth enough to drink largely of that ,vhich God is
holding to our lips, and never again to lose the fire and
spirit of the draught. There is nothing Inore beautiful
than a nlanhood surrounded by the friends, upholding
the principles, and filled ,vith the energy of the spring-
time of life. But even if these highest blessings be
denied, if ,ve haye been cOll1pelled to change opinions,
and to give up friends, and the cold experience of the
world has extinguished the heat of youth, still the heart
will instinctively recur to that happy time, to explain
t? itself ,vhat is lneant by love and ,vhat by hap-
pIness.
Of course, this is only one side of the picture.
This keen susceptibility to pleasure and joy inlplies a
keen susceptibility to pain. There is, probably, no
time of life at ,vhich pains are more intensely felt;
no time at ,vhich the 'v hole lllan nlore 'groaneth and
travaileth in pain together. ' Young men are prone
to extrenle Inelancholy, even to disgust with life. A
young preacher will preach upon affiictions much more
often than an old one. A young poet ,vill write
more sadly. A young philosopher \vilI moralize more
gloomily. And this seems unreal sentiment, and is

2--1

1'he Education of the TVorld.

sn1iled at in after years. But it is real at the time;
and, perhaps, is nearer the truth at all tin1es than tIle
contentedness of those who ridicule it. Youth, in
fact, feels everything
ore keenly; and as far as the
keenness of feeling contributes to its trutll, the feeling,
,vhether it is pain or pleasure, is so much the truer.
But in after life it is the happiness, not the suffering
of youth, that n10st often returns to the nlemory, and
seems to gild all the past.
The period of youth in the history of the ,vorld,
,vhen the hUll1an race ,vas, as it ,vere, put under the
teaching of exall1ple, corresponds, of course, to the
nleeting point of the La,v and the Gospel. The
second stage, therefore, in tIle education of nlan ,vas
the presence of our Lord upon earth. Those fe,v
years of His divine presence' SeelTI, as it \"'ere, to
balance all the systems and creeds and worships \vhich
preceded, all the Church's life ,vhich has follo\ved since.
Saints had gone before, and saints have been given
since; great l1len and good men had lived anlong the
heathen; there \vere never, at any time, examples
\vanting to teach either the chosen people or any
other. Rut the one Exanlple of all exaInples caIne in
the 'fulness of tinle,' just ,,,,hen the ,vorld \vas fitted to
feel the po,ver of His presence. Had His revelation
been delayed till no,y, assuredly it \yould have been
lIard for us to recognise His Divinity; for the faculty
of Faith has turned inwards, and cannot no,v accept
any outer 111anifestations of the truth of God. Our
vision of the Son of God is no,v aided by the eyes
of the Apostles, and by that aid ,ve can recognise the
Express lInage of tIle Father. Bu t in this ,ve are
like men ,vho are led through unkno,vn ,voods by
Indian guides. ,,-r e recognise the indications by
,,,,hich the path \vas kno\vn, as soon as those indica-
tions are pointed out; but \ve feel that it ,,,"ould have
been quite vain for us to look for then} unaided. 'Ve,
of course, have, in our turn, counterbalancing advan-
tages. If ,ye have lost that freshness of faith \vhich

The Edltcatioll of the World. 25
\vould be the first to say to a poor carpenter-Thou
art the Christ, the Son of the Living God-yet ,ve
possess, in the greater cultivation of our religious un.
derstanding, that ,vhich, perhaps, ,ve ought not to be
,villing to give in exchange. The early Christians
could recoo-nise, nlore readily than ,ve, the greatness
and beauty of the Exalnple set before theln; but it is
not too luuch to say, that ,ve kno,v better than they
the precise outlines of the truth. To every age is given
by God its o,vn proper gift. They had not the same
clearness of understanding as ,ve; t.he sallIe recogni-
tion that it is God and not the devil ,vho rules
the ,yorld; the saIne power of discrimination bet,veen
different kinds of truth; they had not the sanle calm-
ness, or fixedness of conduct; their faith ,vas not so
quiet, so little tempte"d to restless vehemence. But
they hael a keenness of perception ,vhich ,ve have not,
and could see the iUl1ueasurable difference bet,veen
our Lord and all other men as ,ve could never have
seen it. Had our Lord come later, He would have
COlne to Inankind already beginning to stiffen into the
fixedness of lnaturity. The power of His life ,voulel
not have sunk so deeply into the ,vorld's heart; the
truth of His Divine Nature ,voulel not have been
recognised. Seeing the Lord, ,vould not have been
the title to Apostleship. On the other hand, had our
Lord come earlier, the ,vorld ,vould not have been
ready to recei,re Him, and the Gospel, instead of being
the religion of the hunlan race, ,voulcl have been the
religion of the Hebre,vs only. The other systems
would have been too strong to be overtllro\vl1 by the
po,ver of preaching. The need of a higher and purer
teaching ,vould not have been felt. Christ would have
seemed to the Gentiles the J e,visll }Iessiah, not the
Son of
Ian. But He came in the 'fulness of time,'
for ,vhich all history had been preparing, to \vhich all
history since has been looking back. Hence the first
and largest place in the New Testament is assigned to
His Life four times told. This life we enlphatically

26 The Education of the "Torld.
eall the Gospel. If there 1S little herein to be techni-
cally called doctrine, yet here is the fountain of all
inspiration. There is no Christian ,vho would not
rather part ,vith all the rest of the Bible tllan \vith
these four Books. There is no part of God's 1V ord
which the religious man more instinctively rememl)ers.
The Sermon on the l\fOUllt, the Parables and the 1\lira-
eles) the Last Supper, the
íount of Olives, the Garden
of Getbselnane, the Cross on Calvary-these are the
companions alike of infancy and of old age, simple
enough to be read ,vith awe and ,vonder by the one,
profound enough to open ne,v depths of ,visdom to
the fullest experience of tIle other.
Our Lord was the Example of mankind, and there
can be no other exaulple ill the sanle sense. But the
,,'"hole period from the closing of the Old Testaulent to
the close of the N e\v was the period of the ,vorld's
youth-the age of examples; and our Lord's presence
was not the only influence of that kind ,vhich has
acted upon the human race. Three eOlnpanions ,vere
appoint.ed by Providence to give their society to this
creature ,yhorn God was educating; Greece, Rome,
and the Early Churcll. To these three mankind has
ever since looked back, and will ever hereafter look
back, ,vith the same affection, the same lingering re-
gret, ,vith ,vhich age looks back to early manhood. In
these three nlankind remenlbers the brilliant social
c0111panion whose ,vit and fancy sharpened the intel-
lect and refined the iUlagination; the bold and clever
leader ,vith whonl to dare ,vas to do, and ,vhose very
name ,,,,"as a signal of success; and the earnest, heavenly-
minded friend, whose saintly aspect "\vas a revelation
in itself.
Greece and Rome have not only given to us the
fruits of their discipline, but the conlpanionship of
their bloonl. The fruits of their discipline would
have passed into our possession, even if their memory
had utterly perished; and just as ,ve kno\v not the

Thp Education of the World.

27

man \yho first discovered arithmetic, nor the man who
first invented \vriting-benefactors \vith \VhOlll no
other captains of science can ever be compared-so,
too, it is probable that \ve inherit from lllany a race,
\vhose nanle \ve shall never hear again, fruits of long
training no\v forgotten. But Greece and Rome have
given us nlore than any results of discipline in the
never-dying 111emory of their fresh and youthful life.
It is this, and not only the greatness or the genius of
the classical \yriters, \vhich makes their literature pre-
eminent above all others. There have been great
poets, great historians, great philosophers in modern
days. Greece can sho\v few poets equal, none supe-
rior, to Shakspeare. Gibbon, in nlany respects, stands
above all ancient historians. Bacon was as great a
master of philosophy as Aristotle. N or, again, are
there \vanting great \vriters of times older, as ,veIl as
of till1es later, than the Greek, as, for instance, the
Hebre,v prophets. But the classics possess a charm
quite independent of genius. It is not their genius
only \vhich makes them attractive. It is the classic
life, the life of the people of that day. It is the
inlage, there only to be seen, of our highest natural
powers in their freshest vigour . It is the unattain-
able grace of tIle prinle of manhood. It is the pervad-
ing sense of youthful beauty. Hence, \vhile \ve have
else,vhere great poems and great histories, ,ve never
find again that universal radiance of fresh life \vhicll
makes even the most conlmonplace relics of classic
days models for our highest art. The common ,vork-
Ulan of those times breathed the atmosphere of the
gods. 'Vhat are no\v the ornalnents of our museums
were then the every -day furniture of sitting and
sleeping rooms. In the great nlOlluments of their
literature we can taste this pure inspiration most
largely; but even t,he most C0111nl0npiace fragulents
of a classic \vriter are steeped in the ,vaters of the
same fountain. Those ,vho compare the moderns

28

The Education of the World.

,vith the ancients, genius for genius, have no difficulty
in claiming for the former equality, if not victory.
But the issue is mistaken. To combine the highest
po,vers of intellect ,vith the freshness of youth "vas
possible only once, and that is tIle glory of the classic
nations. The inspiration which is drawn by the Ulan
from the memory of those ,vhom Ile loved and
admired in the spring-time of his life, is dra ,vn by
the world now from the study of Greece and Rome.
The ,vorld goes back to its youth in hopes to beconle
young again, and delights to dwell on the feats
achieved by the cOlnpanions of tllose days. Beneath
,vhatever was ,vrong and foolisll it recognises that
beauty of a fresh nature \vhich nevrr ceases to delight.
And the sins and vices of that joyous tÎ1ne are passed
over with the levity with which men think of their
young companions' follies.
The Early Church stands as the example which has
most influenced our religious life, as Greece and Rome
llave most influenced our political and intellectual life.
"\Ve read the N e,v Testalnent, not to find tllere forms
of devotion, for there are fe,v to be found; nor la,vs
of church governlnent, for there are hardly any; nor
creeds, for tIlere are none; nor doctrines logically
stated, for there is no attenlpt at logical precision.
The Ne,v Testament is ahnost entirely occupied ,vith
t\VO lives-tIle life of our Lord and tIle life of the
Early Church. Among the Epistles there are but t\VO
,vhich seem, even at first sight, to be treatises for the
future instead of letters for the tinle-the Epistle to
the Romans and the Epistle to the Hebre\vs. But
even these, ,vhen closely examined, appear, like the
l'est, to be no more than the fruit of the current his-
tory. That early church does not give us precepts,
but an exanlple. She says, Be ye follo\vers of nle, as
I also anl of Christ. This had never been said by
1\Ioses, nor by any of the prophets. But the ,vorld
,vas no\v gro,vn old enough to be taught by seeing

The Education of the W01"'ld.

29

the lives of saints, better than by hearing the words
of prophets. 'Vhen after\vards Christians needed
creeds, and liturgies, and forms of church govern-
ment and systell1s of theology, they could not find
thenl. in the Ne\v Testan1ent. They found there only
the materials out of which such needs could be sup-
plied. But the combination and selection of those
nlaterials they had to provide for themselves. In
fact, the \vork \vhich the early church had to do was
peculiar. Her circumstances \vere still more peculiar.
Had she legislated peremptorily for posterity, her
legislation ll1ust have been set aside, as, indeed, the
prohibition to eat things strangled and to eat blood
has been already set aside. But her exalnple \villlive
and teach for ever. In her ,ve learn \vhat is meant
by zeal, ,vhat by love of God, \vhat by joy in the
Holy Ghost, what by endurance for the sake of Christ.
For the very purpose of giving us a pattern, the chief
features in her character are, as it \vere, magnified
into colossal proportions. Our saints must chiefly be
the saints of don1estic life, the brightness of \vhose
light is visible to very fe\v. But their saintliness was
forced into publicity, and its radiance illumines the
earth. So on every page of the N e\v Testament is
,vritten, Go and do thou likewise. Transplant into
your modern life the same heavenly-mindedness, the
satne fervour of love, the same unshaken faith, the
sanl.e devotion to your fellow-men. And to these
pages accordingly the church of our day turns for
rene\val of inspiration. "\Ve even busy ourselves
in tracing the details of the early Christian life, and
,ve love to find that any practice of ours comes down
from apostolic times. This is an exaggeration. It is
not really follo,ving the early church, to be servile
copyists of her practices. vVe are not commanded to
have all things in comn10n, because the church of
Jerusalem once had; nor are \ve to n1ake every supper
a sacralnent, because the early Christians did so. To

30

The Education of the "Torld.

copy the early cllurch is to do as slle did, not \vhat
she did. Yet the very exaggeration is a testimony
of the po,ver \vhicll that church has over us. 1Ve
would fain iUlitate even her out\vard actions as a step
to\vards inlitating her inner life. Her out\vard actions
\vere not meant for our model. She, too, had her
faults: disorders, violent, quarrels, licentious reckless-
ness of opinion, in regard both to faith and practice.
But these spots altogether disappear in the blaze of light
,vhicb streanlS upon us when \ve look back to,vards
her. Nay, ,ve are inlpatient of being reminded that
she had faults at all. So nluch does her youthful
holiness surpass all that ,ve can sho\v, that he ,,"ho
can see her f
lults seenlS necessarily insensible to the
brightness of her glory. There have been great saints
since the days of the apostles. Holiness is as possible
no,v as it ,vas then. But the saintliness of that tinle
had a peculiar beauty which we cannot copy; a
beauty not confined to the apostles or great leaders,
but pervading the whole church. It is not ,vhat they
endured, nor the virtues which they practised, that so
dazzle us. It is the perfect simplicity of the religious
life, the singleness of heart, the openness, the child -
like earnestness. All else has been repeated since,
but this never. And this nlakes the religious man's
heart turn back \vith longing to that blessed time
when the Lord's service ,vas the highest of all
delights, and every act of ""or ship came fresh from
the soul. If we compare degrees of devotion, it may
he reckoned something intrinsically nobler, to serve
God and love Him no\v ,vhen religion is colder than
it ,vas, and \vhen we have not the aid of those thril-
ling, heart-stirring synlpathies ,vhich blessed the early
church. But even if our devotion he sometimes
nobler in itself, yet theirs still renlains the lllore beau-
tiful, the lllore attractive. Ours may have its own place
in the sight of God, but theirs renlains the irresistible
example which kindles all other hearts by its fire.

The Education of the World.

31

It is nothing against the drift of this argument,
that the three frienc1s \vhose companionship is most
deeply engraven on the men10ry of the world ,vere no
friends one to another. 'rhis \vas the lot of mankind,
as it is the lot of not a fe,v nlen. Greece, the child
of nature, had come to full maturity so early as to
pass a,vay before the other two appeared; and Rome
and the Early Church disliked each other. Yet that
dislike makes little impression on us no\v. 'Ve never
identify the ROlne of our admiration \vith the Rome
which persecuted the Christian, partly, indeed, because
the Rome that ,ve admire ,vas almost gone before the
church \vas founded; but partly, too, because ,ve for-
get each of these while \ve are studying the other.
1Ve ahnost nlake t\VO persons of Trajan, accordingly
as we meet ,vith him in sacred or profane history. So
natural is it to forget in after life the faulty side of
young friends' characters.
The susceptibility of youth to the impression of
society wears off at last. The age of reflection begins.
From the storehouse of his youthful experience the
man begins to draw the principles of his life. The
spirit or conscience comes to full strength and assumes
the throne intended for him in the soul. As an ac-
credited judge, invested ,vith full powers, he sits in
the tribunal of our inner kingdorn, decides upon the
past, and legislates upon the future without appeal
except to himself. He decides not by ,vhat is beau-
tiful, or noble, or soul-inspiring, but by ,vhat is right.
Gradually he frames his code of la\vs, revising, adding,
abrogating, as a ,vider and deeper experience gives
him clearer light. He is the third great teacher and
the last.
Now the education by no means ceases ,vhen the
spirit thus begins to lead the soul; the office of the
spirit is in fact to guide us into truth, not to give
truth. The youth ,vho has settled do\vn to his life's
\vork ll1akes a great nlistake if he fancies that be-

32

The Education of the World.

cause he is no more under teachers and governors
his education is therefore at an end. It is only
changed in form. He has much, very lTIucll, to learn,
more perhaps than all \vhich he has yet learned; and
his ne,v teacher ,viII not give it to him all at once.
The lesson of life is in this respect like th e lessons
whereby we learn any ordinary business. The barris-
ter, who has filled his memory with legal forms and
inlbued his mind \vith their spirit, kno,vs that the
most valuable part of 11is education is yet to be
obtained in attending the courtR of law. The physi-
cian is not content with the theories of the lecture-
room, nor ,vith the experilnents of the laboratory, nor
even ,vith the attendance at the hospitals; he kno,vs
that independent practice, ,vhen he will be thro\vn upon
his o,vn resources, ,viII open his eyes to muc}l which
at present he sees through a glass darkly. In every
profession, after the principles are apparently mastered,
there yet remains much to be learnt from the applica-
tion of those principlrs to practice, the only means by
whicll,ve ever understand principles to the bottom.
So too ,vith the lesson 'v hich includes all others, the
lesson of life.
In this last stage of his progress a man learns in
various ,vays. First he learns unconsciously by the
gro,vth of his inner powers and the secret but steady
accunlulation of experience. The fire of youth is
toned down and sobered. The realities of life dissi-
pate many drealns, clear up nlany prejudices, Roften
do\vn nlany rougllnesses. The difference bet\veen
intention and action, bet\veen anticipating temptation
and bearing it, bet\veen dra,ving pictures of holiness
or nobleness and realizing them, bet\veen hopes of
success and reality of achievenlent, is taught by many a
painful and many an unexpected experience. In short,
as the youth puts a\vay childish things, so does the
man put a,vay youthful things. Secondly, the full-
gro\vn man learns by reflection. He looks in\vards

The Education of the TJTorld.

33

and not outwards only. He re-arranges the results of
past experience, re-exaIl1ines by the test of reality the
principles supplied to hinl by books or conversation,
reduces to intelligible and practical formulas \vhat he
has hitherto known as vague general rules. He not
only generalizes-youth will generalize ,vith great
rapidity and often \vith great acuteness-but he learns
to correct one generalization by another. He gra-
dually learns to disentangle his o\yn thoughts, so as not
to be led into foolish inconsistency by want of clear-
ness of purpose. He learns to distinguish bet\veen
lllomentary impulses and permanent determinations
of character. He learns to know the limits of his
o\vn po\vers, nloral and intellectual; and by slo\v
degrees and \vith n1uch reluctance he learns to sus-
pend his judgment and to be content with ignorance
where kno\vledge is beyond his reach. He learns to
kno\v hÍInself and other 111en, and to distinguish in
some measure his o\vn peculiarities from the leading
features ofhulnanity which he shares ,,
ith all men. He
learns to kno\v both the worth and the \vorthlessness of
the ,vorld's judgn1ent and of his o\vn. Thirdly, he
learns much by n1istakes, both by his own and by those
of others. He often persists in a \vrong cause till it is
too late to mend ,vhat he has done, and he learns how
to use it and how to bear it. His principles, or what he
thought his principles, break do\vn under him, and he
is forced to analyse them in order to discover what
alllount of trutl1 they really contain. He comes upon
ne\v and quite unexpected issues of \vhat he has done
or said, and he has to profit by such \varnings as he
receives. I-lis errors often force him, as it were, to go
hack to school; not no,v with the happy docility of a
child, but with the chastened sub1l1ission of a penitent.
Or, n10re often still, his mistakes inflict a sharp chastise-
lnent which teaches him a ne\v lesson without much
effort on his o\vn part to learn. Lastly, he learns nlueh
by contradiction. The collision of society compels hinl
D

34

The Education of tlte lForld.

to state his opinions clearly; to defend them; to modify
them when indefensible; perhaps to surrender them
altogether, consciously or unconsciously; still more
often to absorb theln into larger and fuller thoughts,
less forcible but more comprehensive. The precision
\vhich is thus often forced upon him always seems to
diminish something of the heartiness and power ,vhicll
belonged to more youthful instincts. But he gains
in directness of ainl, and therefore in firmness of reso-
lution. But the greatest of his gains is ,vhat seems
a loss: for he learns not to attempt the solution of
insoluble problen1s, and to have no opinion at all on
many points of the deepest interest. Usually this
takes the form of an abandonment of speculation;
but it may rise to the level of a philosophical humi-
lity \vhich stops ,vhere it can advance no further, and
confesses its own \veakness in the presence of the mys-
teries of life.
But throughout all this it must not be supposed
that he has no n10re to do either ,vith that la\v ,vhicll
guided his childhood or ,vith any other la,v of any
kind. Since he is still a learner, he must learn on the
one condition of all learning-obedience to rules; not
indeed, blind obedience to rules not understood, but
obedience to the rules of his o\vn nlind-an obedience
which he cannot thro\v off ,vithout descending belo\v
the childish level. He is free. But freedom is not
the opposite of obedience, but of restraint. The free-
man lllust obey, and obey as precisely as the bond-
man; and if he has not acquired the habit of obedience
lIe is not fit to be free. The law in fact ,vhich God
lnakes the standard of our conduct nlay have one of
two forms. It nlay be an externalla,v, a law ,vhich is
in the hands of others, in the nlaking, in the apply-
ing, in the enforcing of which ,ve haY'e no share; a
law which governs from the outside, con1pelling our
\vill to bo,v even though our understanding be un-
convinced and unenlightened; saying you must, and

The Education of tlte World.

C)...
c.Jt)

making no effort to make you feel that you ought;
appealing not to your conscience, but to force or fear,
and caring little \vhether you \villingly agree or
reluctantly submit. Or, again, the la\v lnay be an
internal la\v; a voice which speaks '\vithin the con-
science, and carries the understanding along with it;
a law which treats us not as slaves but as ti'iends,
allo,ving us to kno\v \vhat our Lord doeth; a la\v \vhich
bids us yield not to blind fear or awe, but to the
majesty of truth and justice; a la\v \vhich is not
in1posed on us by another po\ver, but by our o\vn
enlightened will. N O\V the first of these is the law
,vhich governs and educates the child; the second the
la\v ,vhich governs and educates the n1an. The second
is in reality the spirit of the first. It cOll1n1ands in
a different way, but with a tone not one \v hit less
peremptory; and he only \vho can control all appe-
tites and passions in obedience to it can reap the full
harvest of the last and highest education.
This need of law in the full n1aturity of life is so
imperative that if the requisite self-control be lost or
ilnpaired, or have never been sufficiently acquired, the
luan in stincti vel y has recourse to a self- in1 posed dis-
cipline if he desire to keep hinlself froln falling. 1'he
Christian \vho has fallen into sinful habits often finds
that he has no resource but to abstain froln much that
is harmless in itself because he has associated it '\vith
evil. He takes n10nastic VO\VS because the world has
proved too n1uch for hÏ1n. He takes tell1perance
pledges because he cannot resist the tenlptations of
appetite. There are devils \vhich can be cast out with
a \yord; there are others \vhich go not out but by
(not prayer only, but) fasting. This is often the case
\vith the late converted. They are c0111pelled to
abstain froll1, and sometin1es they are induced to
denounce, many pleasures and many enjoyments \vhich
they find unsuited to their spiritual health. The
'\vorid and its enjoyments have been to them a source
D2

36

The Edllcation of the World.

of perpetual ten1ptation, and they cannot conceiye
any religious life ,vithin such a circle of evil. Sorne-
times these men are truly spiritual enough and humble
enough to recognise that this discipline is not es-
sential in itself, but. only for them and for such as they.
The discipline is then truly subordinate. It is an
instrunlent in the hands of their conscience. 'l'hey
know ,,,hat they are doing and \vhy they do it. But
sometin1es, if they are. ,veak, this discipline assumes
the shape of a regular externalla\v. They look upon
many harmless things, from ,vhich they haye suffered
mischief as absolutely, not relatively, hurtful. 'l'hey
denounce \vhat they cannot share ,vithout danger, as
dangerous, not only for them, but for all nlankind, and
as evil in itself. 'l'hey set up a conventional code of
duty founded on their o\vn experience whicll they
extend to aU men. Even if they are educated enough
to see that no conventional code is intellectually tenable,
yet they still maintain their system, and defend it, as
not necessary in itself, but necessary for sinful TIlen.
The fact is, that a rnerciful Providence, in order to
help such men, puts them back under the dominion of
the la,v. They are not aware of it thenlselves-men
who are under the dominion of the la,v rarely are
a\vare of it. But even if they could appeal to a reve-
lation from heaven, they would still be under the
la\\T; for a revelation speaking from without and not
from within is an external law and not a spirit.
For the same reason a strict and even severe
discipline is needed for the cure of reprobates. Phi-
1anthropists conlplain sometin1es that this teaching
ends only in making the man say, 'the punishment of
crime is ,y hat 1 cannot bear;' n
t, 'the \vickedness of
crime is \vhat I \vjll not do.' But our nature is not
all will: and the fear of punishment is very often the
foundation on \vhich \ve build the hatred of evil.
No convert ,vould look back wit11 any other feeling
than deep gratitude on a severity which had set free

The Educatio'll of the TVorld.

37

his spirit by chaining down his grosser appetites. It
is true that the teaching of mere discipline, if there
be no other teaching, is useless. If you have onl!!
killed one selfish principle by another you have done
nothing. But if \vhile thus killing one selfish prin-
ciple by another you have also succeeded in a\vaking
the higher faculty and giving it free po\ver of self-
exertion, you have done everything.
'l:'his return to the teaching of discipline in mature
life is needed for the intellect even 11lore than for
the conduct. There are 11lany men \vho though they
pass from the teaching of the outer la\v to that
of the inner in regard to their practical 1ife, never
elnerge from the former in regard to their speculative.
They do not think; they are contented to let others
think for them and to accept the results. Ho\v far
the average of TIlen are fron1 having attained the po\ver
of free independent thought is sho\vn by the stagger-
ing and stumbling of their intellects \vhen a c0111pletely
new subject of investigation tempts them to form a
juùgment of their o\vn on a matter ,vhich they have
not studied. In such cases a really educated intel-
lect sees at once that no judgn1ent is yet ,vithin its
reach, and acquiesces in suspense. But the unedu-
cated intellect hastens to account for the phenon1enon;
to discover new la\vs of nature} and ne\v relations of
truth; to decide, and predict, and perhaps to denland
a remodelling of all previous kno\vledge. The dis-
cussions on table-turning a fe,v years ago, illustrated
this want of intellects able to goyern themselves.
The ,vhole analogy of physical science ,vas not enough
to induce that suspension of judglnent ,vhich ,vas
effect,ed in a week by the dictun1. of a known philo-
sopher.
There are, however, some men ,vho really think for
themselves. But even they àre sometimes obliged,
especially if their speculations touch upon practical
life, to put a temporary restraint upon their intellects.

38

The Education of the T!Tor/d.

The)'" refuse to speculate at all in directions where they
cannot feel sure of preserving their Q'\yn balance of
mind. If the conclusions at which they seem likely
to arrive are very strange, or very unlike the general
analogy of truth, or carry inlportant practical conse-
quences, they \vill pause, and turn to some other sub-
ject, and try whether if they come back with fresh
minds they still come to the same results. And this
may go further, and theJ may find such speculations so
bewildering and so unsatisfactory, that they finally
take refuge in a refusal to think any more on the
particular questions. They content themselves with so
much of truth as they find necessary for their spiritual
life; and, though perfectly aware that the \vheat may
be mixed \vith tares, they despair of rooting up the
tares \vith safety to the -;vheat, and therefore let both
grovl together till the harvest. All this is justifiable
in the same 'way that any self-discipline is justifiable.
That is, it is justifiable if really necessary. But as is
always the case \vith those who are under the law, SUCll
men are sometimes tempted to prescribe for others what
they need for thPIDselves, and to require that no others
should speculate because they dare not. They not only
refuse to think, and accept other n1en's thoughts,
which is often quite right, but they elevate those
into canons of faith for all men, which is not right.
This blindness is of course \vrong; but in reality it
is a blindness of thp same kind as that with which
the Hebre\ys clung to their law; a blindness, pro-
vided for thenl in Inerey, to save their intellects from
leading them into mischief.
Some men, on the other hand, show their want of
intellectual self-control by going back not to the
dominion of la,v, but to the still lower level of intel-
lectual anarchy. They speculate without any founda-
tion at all. 'l'hey confound the internal consistency
of some drealn of their brains \vith the reality of in-
dependent truth. They set up theories which have

The Educatioll of the World.

39

no other evidence than con1patibility "\\"'ith the few facts
that happen to be kno"Tn; and forget that many other
theories of equal claÏlns n1Íght readily be invented.
They are as little able to be content ,vith having no
judgn1ent at all as those "Tho accept judgn1ents at
second hand. They never practically realize that
vthen there is not enough evidence to justify a con-
clusion, it is wisdom to dra\v no conclusion. They
are so eager for light that they 'v ill rub their eyes in
the dark and take the resulting optical delusions for
real flashes. They need intellectual discipline-but
they have little chance of getting it, for they have
burst its bands.
There is yet a furthel" relation bet\veen the inner
la\v of mature life and the outer la\v of childhood
which must be noticed. And that is, that the outer
la\v is often the best vehicle in \vhich the inner la,v
can be contained for the various purposes of life.
The lnan relnelnbers '\vith affection, and keeps up
with delight the customs of the home of his child-
hood; telllpted perhaps to over-estin1ate their value,
but even ,vhen perfectly a\vare that they are no lnore
than one form out of ll1any ,vhich a well-ordered
household ll1ight adopt, preferring them because of
his long fëuniliarity, and because of the men10ries with
,vhich they are associated. So, too, truth often seems to
him richer and fuller \vhen expressed in some favourite
phrase of his mother's, or some maxim of his father's.
He can give no better reason very often for n1uch that
he does every day of his life than that his father did
it before him; and provided the custom is not a
bad one the reason is valid. And he likes to go to
the same church. He ljkes to use the same prayers.
He likes to keep up the same festivities. There are
limits to all this. But no man is quite free from the
influence; and it is in lnany cases, perhaps in most,
an influence of the highest moral value. There is
great value in the removal of many indifferent matters

40

The Education qf the World.

out of the region of discussion into that of precedent.
There is greater value still in the link of sympathy
which binds the present witIl the past, and fills old
age with the fresh feelings of childhood. If trutIl
sometimes suffers in form, it unquestionably gains
much in power; and if its onward progress is retard
d,
it gains immeasurably in solidity and in its hold on
men's hearts.
Such is the last stage in the education of a human
soul, and similar (as far .as it has yet gone) has been
the last stage in the education of the human race.
Of course, so full a comparison cannot be made in this
instance as ,vas possible in the two that preceded it.
For we are still within the boundaries of this third
period, and we cannot yet judge it as a whole. But
if the Christian Church be taken as the representative
of mankind it is easy to see that the general law ob-
servable in the development of the individual may also
be found in the development of tIle Church.
Since the days of the Apostles no further revelation
has been granted, nor has any other system of religion
sprung up spontaneously ,vithin the linlits ,,-hicll the
Church has covered. No prophets have communi-
cated messages from Heaven. No infallible inspira-
tion has guided any teacher or preacher. The claim
of infallibility still nlaintained by a portion of Chris-
tendom has been entirely given up by the more
advanced section. The Church, in the fullest sense,
is left to herse]f to work out, by her natural faculties,
the principles of her o,vn action. And "\vhatever
assistance she is to receive in doing so, is to be through
those natural faculties, and not in spite of them or
without them.
From the very first, the Church commenced the
task by determining her leading doctrines and the
principles of her conduct. These '\vere evolved, as
principles usuaUy are, partly by reflection on past ex-
perience, and by forrnularizing the tIl0Ughts enlbodied

The Education of the l/Torld. 41
in the record of the Church of the Apostles, partly by
perpetual collision with every variety of opinion.
This career of dogmatism in the Church was, in nlany
ways, similar to the hasty generalizations of early
manl:tood. 'The principle on which the controversies
of those days were conducted is that of giving an
answer to every imaginable question. It rarely
seems to occur to the early controversialists that there
are questions ,vhich even the Church cannot solve-
problems \vhich not even revelation has brought within
the reach of human faculties. rrhat the decisions
\vere right, on the ,vItole-that is, that they always
embodied, if they did not al,vays rightly define, the
truth-is proved by the permanent vitality of the
Church as compared with the various heretical bodies
that broke fronl her. But the fact that so vast a
number of the early decisions are practically obsolete,
and that even many of the doctrinal statements are
plainly unfitted for perlnanent use, is a proof that the
Church was not capable, any nlore than a man is
capable, of extracting, at once, all the truth and wis-
dom contained in the teaching of the earlier periods.
In fact, the Church of the Fathers claimed to do what
not even the Apostles had clainled-nanlely, not only
to teach the truth, but to clothe it in logical state-
lllents, and that not merely as opposed to then pre-
vailing heresies (\vhich \vas justifiable), but for all
succeeding time. Yet this was, after all, only an
exaggeration of the proper function of the time.
Those logical statements \vere necessary. And it
belongs to a later epoch to see 'the law \vithin the law'
\vhich absorbs such statenlents into sonlething higher
than themselves.
Before this process can be said to have worked itself
out, it ,vas interrupted by a ne,v phenomenon, demand-
ing essentially different nlanagement. A flood of new
and undisciplined races poured into Europe, on the one
hand supplying the Church ,vith the vigour of fresh

42

1"he Education of the TJ70rl d.

life to replace the effete materials of the old Ron1an
Empire, and, on the other carrying her back to the
childish st.age, and necessitating a return to the
dominion of outer la,v. The Church instinctively had
recourse to the only means that would suit the case-
namely, a revival of Judaism. The Papacy of the
1Iiddle Ages, and the Papal Hierarchy, \\,ith all its
numlJerless cerelTIonies and appliances of external
religion, with its attention fixed upon deeds and not
on thoughts, or feelings
or purposes, with its precise
apportionment of punishments and purgatory, was, in
fact, neither more nor less than the old schoolmaster
come back to bring some ne\v scholars to Christ. Of
course, this ,vas not the conscious intention of the then
rulers of the Church; they believed in their o,vn cere-
monies as much as any of the people at large. The
return to the dominion of la,v was instinctive, not inten-
tional. But its object is no\v as evidpnt as the object
of the ancient l\Iosaic system. Nothing short of a real
systen1 of discipline, accepted as Divine by all alike,
could have tamed the German and Celtish nature into
the self..control needed for a truly spiritual religion.
How could Chlovis, at the head of his Franks, have
made any right use of absolute freedo111 of conscience?
Nor ,vas this a case in which the less disciplined race
could have learned spirituality from the more disci-
plined. This n1ay happen when the more disciplined
is much the lllore vigorous of the t\vo. But the ex-
hausted Roman Empire had not such strength of life
left ,vithin it. There was no alternative but that all
alike should be put under the law to learn the lesson
of obedience.
'Vhen the work was done, men began to discover
that the la,v ,vas no longer necessary. And of course
there was no reason \vhy they should then discuss the
question ,vhether it ever had been necessary. The
time ,vas come when it was fit to trust to the conscience
as the supreme guide, and the yoke of the medieval

The Education of the 'Vorld.

43

discipline \vas shaken off by a controversy which,
in many respects, was a repetition of that bet\veen St.
Paul and the J udaizers. But, as is al\vays the case
after a temporary return to the state of discipline,
Christendoln did not go back to the position or the
duty from which she had been dra\vn by the influx of
the b
trbarian races. The human mind had not stood
still through the ages of bondage, though its motions
had been hidden. The Church's \vhole energy was
taken up in the first six centuries of her existence in
the creation of a theology. Since that time it had
been occupied in rene\ying by self-discipline the self-
control \vhich the sudden absorption of the barbarians
had destroyed. At the Reformation it might have
seemed at first as if the study of theology \vere about
to return. But in reality an entirely ne\v lesson com-
menced-the lesson of toleration. Toleration is the
very opposite of dogu1atism. It ilnplies in reality a
confession that there are insoluble problems upon
which even revelation thro\vs but little light. Its
tendency is to n10dify the early dognlatisnl by substi-
tuting the spirit for the letter, and practical religion
for precise definitions of truth. This lesson is cer-
tainly not yet fully learnt. Our toleration is at
present too often timid, too often rash, sometimes
sacrificing valuable religious elen1ents, sometimes
fearing its o\vn plainest conclusions. Yet there can
be no question that it is gaining on the lninds of all
educated men, \vhether Protestant or Roman Catholic,
and is passing from them to be the common property
of educated and uneducated alike. There are occasions
when the spiritual anarchy \vhich has necessarily fol-
lo,ved the Reformation threatens for a 1110ment to bring
back SOlne temporary bondage, like the Roman Catholic
system. But on the whole the steady progress of tole-
ration is unn1istakeable. The n1ature mind of our race
is beginning to 1110dify and soften the hardness and
severity of the principles which its early manhood had

4
t

The Education of the Trorld.

elevated into immutable statements of truth. l\'1en
are beginning to take a wider vi.ew than they did.
Physical science, researches into history, a more
thorough knowledge of the world they inhabit, have
enlarged our philosophy beyond the lin1its which
bounded that of the Church of the Fathers. And all
these have an influence, whether we will or no, on our
determinations of religious truth. There are found to
be more things in heaven and earth than were dreamt
of in the patristic theology. God's creation is a new
book to be read by the side of His revelation, and to
be interpreted as coming from Him. We can acknow-
ledge the great value of' the forms in ,vhich the first
ages of the Church defined the truth, and yet refuse to
l)e bound by thenl; we can use thenl, and yet endeavour
to go beyond thenl, just as they also went beyond the
legacy '\vhich was left us by the Apostles.
In learning this ne,,," lesson, Christendon1 needed a
firm spot on which she might stand, and has found it
in the Bible. H ad the Bible been dra,vn up in precise
statements of faith, or detailed precepts of conduct, we
should have had no alternative but either permanent
subjection to an outer la,v, or loss of the highest in-
strument of self-education. But the Bible, from its very
form, is exactly adapted to our present ,vant. It is a
history; even the doctrinal parts of it are cast in a
historical fornl, and are best studied by considering
them as records of the time at which they were written,.
and as conveying to us the highest and greatest
religious life of that tinle. Hence ,ve use the Bible-
some consciously, SOllle unconsciously-not to over-
ride, but to evoke the voice of conscience. 'Vhen
conscience and the Bible appear to differ, the pious
Christian immediately concludes that he has not really
understood the Bible. Hence, too, \\Thile the interpre-
tation of the Bible varies slightly fronl age to age, it
varies al,vays in one direction. rfhe schoohnen found
purgatory in it. Later students found enough to COll-

The Þ]ducation of the lJTorld.

45

demn Galileo. Not long ago it \vouId have been held
to condemn geology, and there are still many who so
interpret it. The current is all one way-it evi-
dently points to the identification of the Bible with the
voice of conscience. The Bible, in fact, is hindered by
its form fronì exercising a despotisnl over the human
spirit; if it could do that, it \vould become an outer
la\v at once; but its forin is so adnlirably adapted to
our need, that it \vins fronl us all the reverence of a
supreme authority, and yet imposes on us no yoke of
subjection. This it does by virtue of the principle of
private judgment, \vhich puts conscience bet\veen us
and the Bible, making conscience the suprenle inter-
preter, \vhom it nlay be a duty to enlighten, but WhOll1
it can never be a duty to disobey.
rr'his recurrence to the Bible as tIle great authority
has been accompanied by a strong inclination, conlmon
to all Protestant countries, to go back in every detail
of life to the practices of early times, chiefly, no doubt,
because such a revival of prilniti ve practices, \vherever
possible, is the greatest help to entering into the very
essence, and inlbibing the spirit of the days \vhen the
Bible ,vas \vritten. So, too, the observance of the
Sunday has a stronger hold on the lninds of all religious
men because it penetrates the \vhole texture of the
Old Testament. The institution is so admirable,
indeed so necessary in itself, that without this hold it
\vonId deserve its present position. But nothing but
its pronlinent position in the Bible "vould have made
it, what it no\v is, the one ordinance \vhich all Christen-
dom alike agrees in keeping. In such an observance
men feel that they are, so far, living a scriptural life,
and have come, as it \vere, a step nearer to the inner
po\ver of the book from '\vhich they expect to learn
their highest lessons. Some, indeed, treat it a:i
enjoined by an absolutely binding decree, and thU8 at
once put themselves under a la\y. But short of that,
those ,yho defend it only by arguments of Christian

46

The Education of the 7'Torld.

expediency, are yet compelled to ackno,vledge that
those arguments are so strong that it ,vould be difficult
to imagine a higher authority for any ceremonial insti-
tution. And among those arguments one of the fore-
most is the synlpathy ,vhich the institution fosters
bet,veen the student of the Bible and the book which
he studies.
This tendency to go back to the childhood and
youth of the \vorld has, of course, retarded the acquisi-
tion of that toleration \vhich is the chief philosophical
and religious lesson of nlodern days. Unquestionably
as bigoted a spirit has often been sho,vn in defence of
sonle practice for ,vhich tIle sanction of the Bible had
been clailned, as before the Refornlation in defence of
the decrees of the Church. But no lesson is well
learned all at once. To learn toleration ,veIl and really,
to let it becolne, not a philosophical tenet but a prac-
tical -principle, to join it ,vith real religiousness of life
and character, it is absolutely necessary that it should
break in upon the mind by slo\v and steady degrees,
and that at every point its right to go furt-her should
be disputed, and so forced to logical proof. For it is
only by virtue of tIle opposition \vhich it has sur-
mounted that any truth can stand in the human mind.
The strongest argument in favour of tolerating all
opinions is that our conviction of the truth of an
opinion is ,vorthless unless it has established itself in
spite of the most strenuous resistance, and is still pre-
pared to overconle the sanie resistance, if necessary.
Toleration itself is no exception t<;> the universalla\v;
and those who must regret the slo\v progress by which
it wins its way, nlay remenlber that this slo\vness
makes the final victory t,he mOl'e certain and complete.
Nor is that all. The toleration thus obtained is
different in kind from ,vllat it ,vould other\vise have
been. It is not only stronger, it is richer and
fuller. For the slo,vness of its progress gives time
to disentangle from dognlatism the really valuable

The Education of the TfTorld.

47

principles and sentiments that have been mixed up
and ent\vined in it, and to unite toleration, not with
indifference and worldliness, but with spiritual truth
and religiousness of life.
Even the perverted use of the Bible has therefore
not been without certain great advantages. And
mean\vhile how utterly impossible it would be in the
manhood of the ,vorld to in1agine any other instructor
of nlankind. And for that reason, every day makes
it more and more evident that the thorough study of
the Bible, the investigation of ,vhat it teaches and
,vhat it does not teach, the determination of the
linlits of what \ve nlean by its inspiration, the de-
ternlination of the degree of authority to be ascribed
to the different books, if any degrees are to be ad-
mitted, must take the lead of all other studies. He
is guilty of high treason against the faith ,vho fears
the result of any investigation, whether philogophical,
or scientific, or historical. And therefore nothing
should be more ,velcome than the extension of kno\v-
ledge of any and every kind-for every increase in
our accu111ulations of kno\vledge thro\vs fresh light
upon these the real problenls of our day. If geology
proves to us that \ve 111USt not interpret the first
chapters of Genesis literally; if historical inyestiga-
tions shall sho,v us that inspiration, ho,vever it nlay
protect the doctrine, yet ,vas not enl po\vered to pro-
tect the narrative of thp inspired ,vriters from occa-
sional inaccuracy; if careful criticism shall prove that
there have been occasionallyinterpolatiolls and fOT'O"eries
in that Book, as in many others; the results should
still be \velcome. Even the mistakes of careful and
reverent students are nlore valuable no\v than truth
held in unthinking acquiescence. The substance of
the teaching which we derive from the Bible ,viII
not really be affected by anything of this sort. 1Vhile
its hold upon the Ininds of believers, and its po,ver to
stir the depths of the spirit of man, ho\vever much

48

The Education of the World.

,veakened at first, must. be immeasurably strengthened
in the end, by clearing away any blunders which may
have been fastened on it by hunlan interpretation.
The immediate vtork of our day is the study of the
Bible. Other studies \vill act upon the progress of
mankind by acting through and upon this. For
while a few highly educated men here and there '\vho
have given their minds to special pursuits may think
the study of the Bible a thing of the past, yet
assuredly, if their science is to have its effect upon
TIlen in the mass, it must be by affecting their moral
and religious convictions-in no other way have men
been, or can men be, deeply and permanently changed.
But though this study must be for the present and
for some time the centre of all studies, there is mean-
while no study of whatever kind which ",ill not have
its share in the general effect. At this time, in the
maturity of nlankind, as with each man in the matu-
rity of his po\vers, the great lever ,yhich moves the
,vorld is ,knowledge, t,he great force is the intellect.
St. Paul has told us 'that though in Inalice we must
be children, in understanding ,ve ought to be men.'
And this saying of his has the widest range. Not
only in the understanding of religious truth, but in
all exercise of the intellectual po\Yers, ,ve have no
right to stop short of any limit but that which
nature, that is, the decree of the Creator, has imposed
on us. In fact, no kno\vledge can be '\vithout its
effect on religious convictions; for if not capable of
throwing direct light on some spiritual questions, yet
in its acquisition kno,,-rledge invariably throws light
on the process by ,\\Thich it is to be, or has been,
acquired, and thus affects all other kno,v ledge of every
l\:il1d.
If we have made mistakes, careful study may teach
us better. If ,ve have quarrelled about words, the
enlightenment of the understanding is the best raeans
to sho,v us our folly. If \ve have vainly puzzled our

The Education of the ll T orld.

49

intellects with subjects beyond human cognizance,
better kno\vledge of ourselves will help us to be
humbler. Life, indeed, is higher than all else; and
no service that man can render to his fello\vs is to be
compared ,,--ith the heavenly power of a life of holi-
ness. But next to that must be ranked, whatever
tends to make men think clearly and judge correctly.
So valuable, even above all things (excepting only god-
liness) is clear thought, that the labours of the states-
man are far belo\v those of the philosopher in duration,
in po\ver, and in beneficial results. Thought is no\v
higher than action, unless action be inspired with the
very breath of heaven. For we are no\v rilen, governed
by principles, if governed at all, and cannot rely any
longer on the impulses of youth or the discipline of
childhood.

E

BUNSEN'S BIBLICAL RESEARCHES.

.

XìHEN geologists began to ask ,yhether changes
'" in the earth's structure might be eXplained by
causes still in operation, they did not disprove the
possibility of great convulsions, but they lessened the
necessity for imagining them. So, if a theologian
has his eyes opened ta tIle Divine energy as continuous
and on1nipresent, he lessens the sharp contrast of
epochs in Revelation, but need not aSSU1l1e that th

stream has never varied in its flo,v. Devotion !."aises
time present into the sacredness of the past; "Thile
Criticism reduces the strangeness of the past into
harmony \vith the present. Faith and Prayer (and
great n1arvels answering to them), do not pass a\vay:
but, in prolonging their range as a ,vhole, ,ve make
their parts less exceptional. 'Ve hardly discern the
truth, for whicll they are anxious, until \ve distinguish
it from associations accidental to their d0l11ain. The
truth itself may have been apprehended in various
degrees by servants of God, of old, as no,v. Instead
of, \yith r.rertullian, what was first is truest, ,ve may say,
what con1es of God is true, and - He is not only afar,
but nigh at hand; though His 111illd is not changed.
Questions of miraculous interference do not turn
111erely upon our conceptions of physical lavv, as un-
broken, or of the Divine vViII, as all-pervading: but
they include inquiries into evidence, and must abide
by verdicts on the age of records. N or should the
distinction bet,veen poetry and prose, and the possi-

Bunsen' 8 Biblical Researches.

51

bility of imagination's allying itself with affection,
be overlooked. "\Ve cannot encourage a renlorseless
criticism of Gentile histories and escape its contagion
,vhen ,ve approach Hebre,v annals; nor ackno\yledge
a Providence in J e,vry without o,vning that it may
have con1prehended sanctities else,vhere. But the
moment ,ve examine fairly the religions of India and of
Arabia, or even those of primæval Hellas and Latium,
,ve find they appealed to the better side of our nature,
and their essential strength lay in the elenlents of
good ,vhich they contained, rather than in any Satanic
corruption.
Thus considerations, religious and n10ral, no less
than scientific and critical, have, ,vhere di
cussion ,vas
free, widened the idea of Revelation for the old ,vorld, and
deepened it for ourselves; not removing the footsteps
oÎ the Eternal from Palestine, but tracing then1 on
other shores; and not making the saints of old orphans,
but ourselves partakers of their sonship. Conscience
,vould not lose by exchanging that repressive idea of
revelation, which is put over against it as an adversary,
for one to ,vhich the echo of its best instincts should
be the ,vitness. The moral constituents of our nature,
so often contrasted with Revelation, should rather bp
considered parts of its instrumentality. Those cases
in ,vhich we accept the miracle for the sake. of the
moral lesson prove the ethical eleJnent to be the n10re
fundamental. "\Ve see this more clearly if ,ve inlagine
a miracle of cruelty wrought (as by Antichrist) for
Ïlnmoral ends; for then only the technically In ira-
culous has its value isolated; \vhereas by appealing to
good 'WORKS' (ho,vever wonderful) for his ,vitness, Christ
has taught us to have faith mainly in goodness. This
is too much overlooked by SOlne apologists. But there
is hardly any greater question than ,vhether history
sho,vs Ahnighty God to have trained nlankind by a
faith ,vhich has reason and conscience for its kindred
J
or by one to ,vhose nliraculous tests their pride lTIUst
E2

52

Bunsen's Biblical Researches.

bo,v; that is, ,,,,hether His Holy Spirit has acted
througIl the channels ,vhich His Providence ordained,
or whether it has departed from these so signally
that con1parative Inlstrust of them ever afterwards
becomes a duty. 'l]le first alternative, though in-
vidiously termed pI1ilosophical, is that to which free
nations and Evangelical thinkers tend; the second has
a greater sho\v of religion, but allies itself naturally
,,"ith priestcraft or formalisnl; and not rarely with
corruptness of adlninistration or of life.
In this issue converge n1any questions anciently
stirred, but recurring in our daylight with almost
uniform 1 accession of strength to the liberal side.
Such questions turn chiefly on the la,v of gro,vth,
traceable throughout the Bible, as in the world; and
partly on science, or historical inquiry: but no less on
the deeper revelations of tIle N e,v Testament, as com-
pared to those of the Old. If "Te are to retain the
old Anglican foundations of research and fair state-
ment, ,ve must revise some of the decisions provi-
sionally given upon imperfect evidence, or, if ,ve
shrink from doing so, we must abdicate our ancient
claim to build upon the truth; and our retreat will
be either to Rome, as some of our lost ones have
consistently seen, or to SOllle form, equally evil, of
darkness voluntary. The attitude of too many Eng-
lish scholars before the last 1\Ionster out of the Deep
is that of the degenerate senators before Tiberius.
They stand, balancing terror against mutual shame.
Even ,vith those in our universities ,vho no longer re-

1 It is very remarkable that, amidst all our Biblical illustration from
recent travellers, Layard, Rawlinson, Robinson, Stanley, &c., no single
lloint has been discovered to ten in favour of an irrational supernaturalism;
whereas numerous discoveries have confirmed the more liberal (not to say,
rationalizing) criticism which traces Revelation historicaUy within the
sphere of nature and humanity. Such is the moral, both of the Assyrian
discoveries, and of all travels in the East, as well as the verdict of philologers
at home. 1\11'. G. Rawlinson's proof of this is stronger, because undesigned.

Bunsen's Biblical Researches.

53

peat fully the required Shibboleths, the explicitness of
truth is rare. He who assents most, conlnlitting him-
self least to baseness, is reckoned ,visest.
Bunsen's enduring glory is neither to have' paltered
with }lis conscience nor shrunk fronl the difficulties
of the problem; but to have brought a vast erudition,
in the light of a Christian conscience, to unroll
tangled records, tracing frankly the Spirit of God
else,vhere, but honouring chiefly the traditions of His
Hebrew sanctuary. No living author's works could
furnish so pregnant a text for a discourse on Biblical
criticism. Passing over SOHle specialties of Lutheran-
ism, we may nleet in the field of research ,vhich is
common to scholars; while even here, the synlpathy,
which justifies respectful exposition, need not iml)ly
entire agreement.
In the great ,york upon Egypt, l the later volulnes
of ,vhich are now appearing in English, we do not
find that picture of home life \vhich meets us in the
pages of our countryman, Sir G. 'Vilkinson. The
interest for robust scholars is not less, in the fruitful
conlparison of the oldest traditions of our race, and
in the giant shapes of ancient eInpires, which flit like
dirn shado\vs, evoked by a master's hand. But for
those who seek chiefly results, there is something "'eari-
some in the elaborate discussion of authorities; and, it
must be confessed, the Gernlan refinenlent of Inethod
has all the effect of confusion. To give details here
is in1possible (though the more anyone scrutinizes
theIn, the more substantial he ,viII find theln), and
this sketch must conlbine suggestions, ,vhich the
author has scattered strangeI y apart, and sonletÏ1nes
repeated \vithout perfect consistency. He d,vells largely
upon Herodotus, Eratosthenes, and their successors,
from Champollion and Young to Lepsius. Especially

1 Egypts Place in Universal History, by Christian C. J. Bunsen, &.
Loudun. 1848, vol. i. 1854, vol. ii.

54

BUJlsen's Biblical Researches.

the dynastic records of the Ptolenlaic priest,
Ianetho, 1
are con1pared ,vith the accounts of the stone nlonu-
ments. The result, if ,ve can receive it, is to vindicate
for the civilized kingdolll of Egypt, from l\Ienes do,,"-n-
,yard, an antiquity of nearly four thousand years before
Christ. There is no point in ,vhich arc]]æologists of all
shades ,vere so nearly unanimous as in the belief that
our Biblical chronology was too narro,v in its limits;
and the enlargenlent of our vie,vs, deduced from
Egyptian records, is extended by our author's reason-
ings on the developrnent of commerce and government,
and still more of languages, and physical features of
race. He could not have vindicated the unity of
lnankind if he had not asked for a vast extension of
tin1e, ,vhether his petition of t\venty thousand years
be granted or not. The n1ention of such a term may
appear monstrous to those ,vho regard six thousand
year
as a part of Revelation. Yet it is easier to thro\v
doubt on some of the argunlents than to sho\v that
the conclusion in favour of a vast length is impro-
bable. If pottery in a river's mud provps little, its
tendency may agree ,vith that of the discovery of very
ancient pre-historic remains in many pa.rts of the
,vorld. Again, how many years are needed to de-
velope nlodern French out of Latin, and Latin itself
out of its original crude forms? Ho\v unlike is
English to \Velsh, and Greek to Sanskrit-yet all
indubitably of one fan1ily of languages 1 \Vhat years
,vere required to create the existing divergence of
melnbers of this falnily! How many more for other

1 See an account of him, and his tables, in the Byzantine SynceIlus, pp.
72-145, vol. i., ed. Dind., ill the Corpus Historiæ Byzantinæ, Bonn. 182 9.
But with this is to be compared the Armenian version of Eusebius's Chro-
nology, di:-;covered by Cardinal :Mai. The text, the interpretation, and the
historical fidelity, are all controverted. Baron Bunsen's treatment of them
deserves the provisional acceptance due to elaborate research, with no slight
concurrence of proLctbilities; and if it should not ultimately win a favour-
able verdict from Egyptologers, no one who summarily rejects it as
arbitrary or impossible can have a right to be on the jury.

Bunsen' 8 Biblical Researches.

55

fanlilies, separated by a wide gulf from this, yet re-
taining traces of a prilnæval aboriginal affinity, to have
d
veloped themselves, either in priority or collate-
rally? The same consonantal roots, appearing either
as verbs inflected ,vith great variety of gram-
11latical fornl, or as nouns \vith case-endings in sonle
languages, and \vith none in others, plead as con-
vincingly as the succession of strata in geology, for
enormOllS lapses of tilne. 'Vhen, again, ,ve have
traced our (j aelic and our Sanskrit to their inferential
pre-Hellenic stem, and when reason has convinced
us that the Semitic languages ,vhich had as distinct
an individuality four thousand years ago as they
have llO\V, req uire a cradle of larger dinlensions
than .l\.rchbishop U ssher's chronology, \vhat far-
ther effort is not forced upon our in1agination, if ,ve
would guess the measure of the dim background in
\vhich the l\Iongolian and Egyptian languages, older
probably than the Hebre\v, becarne fixed, growing
early into the type ,vhich they retain? Do ,ve see
an historical area of nations and languages extending
itself over nearly ten thousand years: and can ,ve
iluagine less than another ten thousand, duriJ?g \vhich
the possibilities of these things took body and form?
Questions of this kind require from most of us a
special training for each: but Baron Bunsen revels
in thenl, and his theories are at least suggestive.
He sho\vs ,vhat Egypt had in comn10n \vith that
prinlæval Asiatic stock, represented by H anl, out of
which, as ra'v material, he conceives the divergent
families, termed Indo-European l and Semitic (or the
kindreds of Europe and of Palestine) to have been

1 The common te.rm was Indo-Germanic. Dr. Prichard, on bringing the
Gael and Cymry Into the same family, required the wider term Indo-
E
roI?ean. Historical reasons, chiefly in connexion with Sanskrit, are
brmg
llg. thp
e
m Ary
n (or Aryas) . into fashion. '\Ve may adopt \Vh
ch-
ever IS lIltel
19Ibl
, wIthout excludmg, perhaps, a Turaman or ..
fncan
elemellt survIvIng In South \Vales. Turanian means nearly l\longolian.

56

Bunsen's Biblical Researches.

later developed. Nimrod is considered as the Biblical
representative of the earlier stock, whose ruder
language is continued, by affiliation or by analogy,
in the l\Iongolian races of Asia and in the negroes
of Africa.
The traditions of Baby lon, Sidon, Assyria, and Iran,
are brought by our author to illustrate and confirm,
though to nlodify our interpretation of, Genesis. It
is strange how nearly those ancient cosmogonies 1
approach what may be terlned the philosophy of
Moses, while they fall short in ,vhat Longinus called
his' ,vorthy conception of the divinity.' Our deluge
takes its place among geological phenonlena, no longer
a disturbance of la,v from ,vhicll science sllrinks, but
a prolonged play of the forces of fire and ,vater, ren-
dering the primæval regions of North Asia uninha-
bitable, and urging the nations to ne,v abodes. vVe
learn approximately its antiquity, and jnfer limitation
in its range, from finding it recorded in the traditions
of Iran and Palestine (or of J aphet and Shem) but
unkno,vn to the Egyptians and J\Iongolians, ,vho left
earlier the cradle of mankind. In the half ideal half
traditional notices 2 of the beginnings of our race,
conlpiled in Genesis, ,ve are bid notice the conl bination
of documents, and the recurrence of barely consistent
genealogies. As the nlan Adam begets Cain, the
man Enos begets Cainan. Jared and Irad, lVlethu-
selah and
Iethusael, are similarly compared. Seth,
like EI, is an old deity's appellation, and l\IAN ,vas
the son of Seth in one record, as Adam was the son
of God in the other. One could ,vish the puzzling
CirCU111stance, that the etynlology of SOUle of the earlier
names seems strained to suit the present form of the
narrative had been eXplained. That our author would

1 Aeg!Jpten's Stelle in der Wëltgeschickte, pp. 186-400; B. v. 1-3-
Gotha. 1856.

Ae9!1pteJ
's Stelle, &c., B. v. 4-5, pp. 50-142. Gotha. 1857.

Bunsen's Biblical Researches.

57

not shrink from noticing this, is sho\vn by the firnlness
"vith ,vhich he relegates the long lives of the first
patriarchs to the domain of legend, or of syulbolical
cycle. He l
easonably conceives that the historical
portion begins ,vith Abraham, ,vhere the lives be-
conle natural, and information ",ras nearer. À scepti-
cal criticisnl might, indeed, ask, by ,vhat right he
assumes that the moral dinlensions of our spiritual
heroes can not have been idealized by tradition, as he
adnlits to have been the case \vith physical events
and \vith chronology rounded into epical shape. But
the first principles of his philosophy, ,vhich fixes on
personality (or ,vhat ,ve might call force of character)
as the great organ of Divine manifestation in the
,vorId, and his entire nlethod of handling the Bible,
lead him to insist on the genuineness, and to nlagnify
the force, of spiritual ideas, and of the men ,vho exenl-
plified them. Hence, on the side of religion, he does
not intentionally violate that reverence ,vith which
Evangelical thinkers vie,v the fathers of our faith.
To Abrahanl and
Ioses, Elijah and J erenliah, he
renders grateful honour. Even in archæology his
scepticisnl does not outrun the suspicions often be-
trayed in our popular nlind; and he litnits, \vhile he
confirnls these, by sho,ving ho,v far they have ground.
But as he says, ,vith quaint strength,. 'there is no
chronological element in Rev-elation.' 'Vithout bor-
ro\ving the fifteen centuries \vhich the Greek Church
and the Septuagint ,vould lend us, ,ve see, from conl-
paring the Bible ,vith the Egyptian records and ,vith
itself, that our common dates are \vrong, though it is
not so easy to say how they should be rectified. The
idea of bringing Abraham into Egypt as early as 2876
B.C. is one of our author's most doubtful points, and
nlay seem hardly tenable. But he ,vanted time for
the gro\vth of Jacob's family into a people of t\VO
millions, and he felt bound to place Joseph under
a native Pharaoh, therefore, before the Shepherd

58

BUlllSen' 8 Biblical Researches.

Kings. He also contends that Abraham's horizon in
Asia is antecedent to the first 1\Iedian conquest of
Babylon in 2234. A famine, conveniently mentioned
under the t,velfth dynasty of Egypt, completes his
proof. Sesortosis, therefore, is the Pharaoh to 'v horn
Joseph was n1inister; the stay of the Israelites in
Egypt is extended to fourteen centuries; and the date
215 represents the time of oppression. Some of these
netails are sufficien tl y doubtful to afford gro und of
attack to ,vriters ,vhose real quarrel is with our author's
Biblical research, and its more certain, but not therefore
more ,yelco1l1e, conclusions. It is easier to follo,v him
implicitly when he leads us, in virtue of an over,vhelm-
ing concurrence of Egyptian records and of all the
probabilities of the case, to place the Exodus as late as
1320 or 13 r4. The event is nlore natural in Egypt's
decline under l\lenephthah, the exiled son of the great
Ramses, than amidst the splendour of the eighteenth
dynasty. It cannot well have been eal'Olier, or the
Book of Judges must have mentioned the conquest of
Canaan by Ralnses; nor later, for then Joshua would
come in collision ,vith the new empire of Ninus and
Semiramis. But l\Ianetho places, under l\Ienephthah,
,yhat seems the Egyptian version of the event, and the
year 13 T 4, one of our alternatives, is the date assigned
it by J e,vish tradition. Not only is the historical
reality of the Exodus thus vindicated against the
dreams of the Drummonds and the V oJneys, but a
ne,v interest is given it by its connexion with the rise
and fall of great empires. "\Ve can understand how
the ruin on "Thich Ninus rose made room in Canaan
for the Israelites, and how they fell again under the
satraps of the New En1pire, who appear in the Book
of Judges as kings of the provinces. Only, if we
accept the confirmation, we must take all its parts.
J\fanetho n1akes the conquerors before ,vhom Meneph-
thah retreats into Ethiopia Syrian shepherds, and
gives the human side of au invasion, or war of libera-

Bunsen' 8 Biblical Reseal
che8.

59

tion;1 Baron Bunsen notices the 'high l1and' ,vith
,vhich Jehovah led forth his people, the spoiling of the
Egyptians, and the lingering in the peninsula, as
signs, even in the Bible, of a struggle conducted by
hUlnan means. Thus, as the pestilence of the Book
of ICings becomes in Chronicles the more visible angel,
so the avenger ,vho s]e\v the firstborn nlay have been
the Bedouin host, akin nearly to Jethro, and more
renlotel y to Israel.
So in the passage of the Red Sea, the description
may be interpreted ,vith the latitude of poetry: though,
as it is not affirnled that Pharaoh ,vas dro\vned, it is no
serious objection that Egyptian authorities continue
the reign of
Ienephthah later. A greater difficulty is
that ,ve find but three centuries thus left us from the.
Exodus to Solomon's Temple. Yet less stress will be
laid on this by whoever notices ho,v the numbers in the
Book of Judges proceed by the eastern round number
of forty, ,vhat traces the 'v hole book bears of embody-
ing history in its nlost popular form, and ho\v naturally
St. Paul or St. Stephen would speak after received
accounts.
It is not the inlportance severally, but the continual
recurrence of such difficulties, ,vhich bears ,vith ever-
gro,ving induction upon t,he question, ,vhether the
Pentateuch is of one age and hand, and \vhether sub-
sequent books are contenlporary with the events, or
,vhether the ,vhole literature gre,v like a tree rooted
in the varying thoughts of successive generations, and
,vhether traces of editorship, if not of composition,
bet\veen the ages of Solomon and Hezekiah, are mani.
fest to ,vhoever ,viII recognise them. Baron Bunsen

1 I " (J '
e ' , (J t. \
\
vop.ov f ETO IlT}T
1f'pOCTKVVHV f()VS' . . . . CTVVU'trTfCT ut OE P.T}OfVL
'\ \ - , . .,
, ., .r. ' ß
'lïi\T}V TClJV CTVVClJfLOCTfLfVClJV U1JTOS' OE . . . . E'trfP.'I'
1f'pfCT fLS'
, ,t, T (J ' · '\ (J " , · é'
"/rpo
TOtJ
tJ'trO E fLWCTfW
U'trf^a fVTUS' 'tr1)
P.fVUS' .. .. KU' T}çLOV
UVVf'tr
CTTpUTfVfLJI K.T.À. l\Ianetho, apud Jos. c. Apion. The whole
p
s
age has the stamp of genuine history.

60

BUJlsen's Biblical Researches.

finds himself compelled to adopt the alternative of
gradual growth. He nlakes the Pentateuch
10saic,
as indicating the mind and embodying the developed
system of 1\10ses, rather than as ,vri tten by the great
la\vgiver's hand. NUlnerous fragnlents of genealogy,
of chronicle, and of spiritual song go up to a high
antiquity, but are imbedded in a crust of later narra-
tive, the allusions of ,vhich betray at least a time
,vhen kings ,vere established in Israel. Hence the
idea of composition out of older materials nlust be
admitted; and it may in some cases be conceived that
the compiler's point of vie\v differed from that of the
older pieces, ,vhich yet he faithfulJy preserved. If the
more anyone scrutinizes the sacred text, the more he
finds himself impelled to these or like conclusions
respecting it, the accident of suell having been alleged
by lllen more critical than devout should not make
Christians shrink from them. 'Ve need not fear that
what God has permitted to be true in history can be
at ,val" ,vith the faith in HiInself taught us by His
Son.
As in his E!l!JJJt our author sifts the 11istorical date
of the Bible, so in his Gott ,in der Geschichte, l he
expounds its directly religious elenlent. Lamenting,
like Pascal, the ,vretchedness of our feverish being,
,vhen estranged from its eternal stay, he traces, as a
countryman of Hegel, the Divine thought bringing
order out of confusion. Unlike the despairing school,
,vho forbid us trust in God or in conscience, unless ,ve
kill our souls ,vith literalism, he finds salvation for
men and States only in beconling acquainted with the
Author of our life, by whose reason the ,vorld stands
fast, ,vhose stamp we bear in our forethought, and
,,
hose voice our conscience echoes. In the Bible, as
an expression of devout reason, and therefore to be

1 Gott in der Gescllickte (i.e. the Divine Government in History).
Books i. and ii. Leipzig. 18 57-

BUJlsen' 8 Biblical Researches.

61

read with reason in freedom, he finds record of the
spiritual giants \vhose experience generated the reli-
gious atu10sphere \ve breathe. For, as in la,v and
literature, so in religion ,ve are debtors to our ances-
tors; but their life nlust find in us a kindred appre-
hension, else it ,vould not quicken; and ,ve must give
back 'v hat \ve have received, or perish by unfaithfulness
to our trust. Abrahalll, the friend of God,
loses the
inspired patriot, Elijah the preacher of the still small
voice, and J eren1iah the foreseer of a la\v written on
the conscience, are not ancestors of Pharisees who in-
herit their flesh and name, so llluch as of kindred spirits
\vho put trust in a righteous God above offerings of
blood, ,vho build up fi"ee nations by wisdom, ,vho
speak truth in sin1plicity though four hundred priests
cry out for falsehood, and \vho make self-examination
before the Searcher of hearts more sacred than t.he
confessional. 'Vhen the fierce ritual of Syria, \vith the
a\ve of a Divine voice, bade Abrahan1 slay his son, he
did not reflect that he had no perfect theory of the
absolute to justify him in departing froin traditional
revelation, but trusted that the FATHER, ,vhose
voice froIn heaven he heard at heart, ,vas better pleased
with mercy than ,vith sacrifice; and this trust ,vas his
righteousness. Its seed ,vas so,vn from heaven, but
it gre\v in the soil of an honest and good heart. So
in each case we trace principles of reason and right, to
\vhich our heart perpetually responds, and our response
to \v hich is a truer sign of faith than such deference
to a supposed external authority as \vould quench
these principles then1selves.
It filay be thought that Baron Bunsen ignores too
peremptorily the sacerdotal e]elnent in the Bible, for-
getting ho,v it moulded the forin of the history. He
certainly separates the J\Iosaic institutions from
Egyptian affinity more than our Spencer and 'Var-
hurton ,vould pern1it; more, it seen1S, than Hengsten-
berg considers necessary. But the distinctively
Iosaic

62

Bunsen' 8 Biblical Researches.

is \vith him, not the ritual, but the spiritual, which
generated the other, but ,vas overlaid by it. 1\loses,
he thinks, ,vould gladly have founded a free religious
society, in ,vhich the primitive tables ,vritten by the
Divine finger on 111an's heart should have been la,v ;
but the rudeness or hardness of his people's heart
con1pelled hin1 to a sacerdotal system and forn1al
tablets of stone. In favour of this vie,v, it n1ay be
remarked, that the tone of S01l1e passages in Exodus
appears less sacerdotal than that of later books in the
Pentateuch. But, be this as it n1ay, the truly 1\Iosaic
(according to our author) is not the Judaic, but the
essentially hU1l1an; and it is not the Semitic forIn, often
divergent fro111 our modes of conception, but the eter-
nal truths of a righteous God, and of the spiritual
sacrifices ,vith ,vhich He is pleased, that ,ve OUgllt to
recognise as most characteristic of the Bible; and
these truths the same Spirit 'v hicll spoke of old
'speaks, through all variety of phrase, in ourselves.
That there ,vas a Bible before our Bible, and that
some of our present books, as certainly G'enesis and
Joshua, and perhaps Job, Jonah, Daniel, are expanded
fron1 sin1pler elelnents, is indicated in the book before
us rather than proved as it might be. Fuller details
may be expected in the course of the revised Bible
for the People,! that grand enterprise of ,vhich three
parts have DÜ\V appeared. So far as it has gone,
son1e amended renderings have interest, but are
less important than the survey of the ,vhole sub-
ject in the Introduction. The ,vord JEHOVAH has
its deep significance brought out by being rendered
THE ETERNAL. The fatnous Shiloh (Gen. xlix. 10) is
taken in its local sense, as the sanctuary,vheretheyoung
San1uel ,vas trained; ,vhich, if doctrinal perversions
did not interfere, hardly anyone ,vould doubt to be

1 Bibel-
L'eì'kfii'r die Gemeinde. I. and II. Leipzig. 18 5 8 .

Bunsen's Biblical Researches.

63

the true sense. The three opening verses of Genesis
are treated as side-clauses (when God created, &c.), so
that the first direct utterance of the Bible is in the
fourth verse, , God said, LET THERE BE LIGHT.' Striking
as this is, the Hebrew pernlits, rather than requires it.
Less admissible is the division after verse 4 of the 2nd
cll'Lpter, as if 'This is. the history' ,vas a summary
of \vhat precedes, instead of an announcement of \vhat
follo\vs. But the I st verse of the 2nd chapter belongs
properly to the preceding. Sometinles the translator
seenlS right in substance but \vrong in detail. He
rightly rejects the perversions \vhich lllake the cursing
Psalms evangelically inspired; but he forgets that
the bitterest curses of Psalm 10 9 (fi'om verse 6 to ] 9)
are not the Psallllist's O\Vll, but a speech in the moutll
of his adversary. These are trifles, ,vhen cOlllpared
\vith the mass of inforlnation, and the nlanner of
wielding it, in the prefaces to the ,vork. There is a
grasp of ll1aterials and a breadth of vie\v fronl \vhich
the 1110St practise(l theologian may learn sOll1ething,
and persons least versed in Biblical studies acquire a
cornprehensive idea of them. Nothing can be more
dishonest than the affectation of contenlpt witll
which some English critics endeavoured to receive
this instahnent of a glorious \vork. r
ro sneer at
demonstrated criticisms as 'old,' and to brand fresh
discoveries as 'ne\v,' is ,vorthy of n1en ,vho neither
understand the Old Testanlent nor love the Ne\v.
But they to ,vhom the Bible is dear for the truth's
sake ,vill ,vish its illustrious translator life to accom-
plish a task as worthy of a Christian stateSlTIan'S
retirement as the Tusculans of Cicero ,,-rere of the
representative of Rome's lost freedo1l1.
Already in the volume before-Inentioned Baron Bun-
sen has exhibited the Hebrew Prophets as \vitnesses to
the Divine Governnlent. To estimate aright his service8
in this province \vould require froln most Englishlnen
years of study. ACcustollled to be told that Inodern

64

BUJlsen's B.iblical Researches.

history is expressed by the Prophets in a riddle,
,vhicl1 requires only a key to it, they are disappointed
to hear of moral lessons, however important. Such
notions are the inheritance of days ,vhen Justin could
argue, in good faith, that by the riches of Damascus
and the spoil of Sanlaria \vere intended the
Iagi and
their gifts, and that the ICing of Assyria signified
ICing Herod (1);1 or ,vhen Jerome could say, ']\TO one
doubts that by ChaldeaJls a1.e 1Jleant ])e111ons,'2 and the
Shunalnmite Abishag could he no other than heavenly
,visdoln, for the honour of David's o]d age 3_ no t to
nlention such things as Lot's daughters symbolizing
the J e,vish and Genti]e Churches. 4 It ,vas truly felt
by the early fathers that Hebre,v prophecy tended to
a systenl more spiritual than that of Levi; and they
argued unans,verabl)T that circumcision and the Sab-
bath 5 ,vere synlbols for a time, or means to ends.
But ,vhen, instead of using the letter as an instru-
ment of the spirit, they began to accept the letter in
all its parts as their la,v, and t\visted it into harmony
with the details of Gospel history, they fell into in-

1 Isaiah viii. 4. Trypho
77, 8, 9. Well might Trypho answer, that
such interpretations are strained, if not blasphemous.
2 On Isaiah xliii. 14- T 5, and again, on ch. xlviii. 12-16. He also shows
on xlviii. 22, that the Jews of that day had not lost the historical
ense of
their prophecies; though mystical renderings had already shown them-
selves. But the later mysticists charitably praJTed for HILLEL, because his
expositions had been historical. (See. Pearson's Notes on Art. iii.) '\Then
will our mysticists show as Christian a temper as the Jewi
h ones P
Condontt Dominus hoc R. Hillel!
3 To N epotian. Letter 52.
4 Presbyteri apud Irenæum.
s Trypho
41-43. This tract of Justin's shows strikingly a transition
from the utmost evangelical freedom, with simplicity of thought, to a more
learned, but confused speculation and literalism. He still thinks reason a
revelation, Socrates a Christian, prophecy a necessary and perpetual gift of
God's people, circumcision temporary, because not natural; and lustral
washings, which he contrasts with mental bapti
m, super
titious. His
view of the Sabbath is quite St. Paul's. His making a millennial resur-
rection the Christian doctrine, as opposed to the heathen immortality of
the soul, is embarrassing, but perhaps primitive. But his Scriptural inter-
pretations are dreams, and his charge aO'ainst the Jews of corrupting the
Prophets as suicidal as it is groundless. 0

BUJZ8eJz' 8 Biblical Researches.

65

extricable contradictions; the most rational interpre-
ter among thenì is J eronle, and the perusal of his
criticisnls is their anlple confutation.! Nor could the
strong intellect of Augustine cOlnpensate for his de-
fect of little Greek, ,yhich he shared ,vith half, and
of less Hebre,v, which he shared ,vith nlost of the
Fathers. But with the revival of learning hegan a
reluctant and ,vavering, yet ineyitab]e, retreat from
the details of patristic exposition, aCCOlll panied \vith
sonle attempts to preserve its spirit. Even Erasnlus
looked that ,vay; Luther's and Calvin's strong sense
impelled them SOlne strides in the sanle direction;
but Grotius, ,vho outweighs as a critic any ten oppo-
sites, ,yent boldly on the road. In our own country
each successive defence of the prophecies, in propor-
tion as its author ,vas able, detracted something fi"onl
the extent of literal prognostication; and either laid
stress on the moral elenlent, or urged a second, as the
spiritual sense. Even Butler foresa\v the possibility,
that every prophecy in the Old Testament might
have its elucidation in contenlporaneous history; but
literat.ure was not his strong point, and he turned
aside, endeavouring to liulit it, fronl an un\VelCOnle
idea. Bishop Chandler is said to have thought t\velve
passages in the Old Testalnent directly l\Iessianic;
others restricted this character to five. Paley ven-
tures to quote only one. Bishop !(idder 2 conceded
freely an historical sense in Old rrestament texts re-
mote from adaptations in the Ne,v. The apostolic
l\Iiddleton pronouncp.d firnlly for the sanle principle;
Archbishop N e\vcome 3 and others proved in detail

J Thus he makes Isaac's hundredfold increase, Gen. xxvi. 12. mean
'multiplication of virtues,' because no grain is specified! Quæst. Hebraic.
in Gen. ch. xxvi. 'Vhen Jerome Origenises, he is wor
e than Origen,
because he does not, like that great genius, di::;tinguish the historical from
the mystical 8ense.
2 Collected in the Boyle Lectures.
a Å Literal Translation if tlte Propltets,froJJ2, Isaialt to Malachi, with
F

66

Bunsen' 8 B'iblical Resea/lches.

its necessity. Coleridge, in a suggestive letter, pre..
served in the memoirs of Cary, the translator of
Dante, thre\v secular prognostication altogether out
of the idea of prophecy.! Dr. Arnold, and his truest
follo\vers, bear, not al,vays consistently, on the same
side. On the other hand, the declamatory a
sertions,
so easy in pulpits or on platforms, and aided SOIne..
times by po\vers, which produce silence rather than
conviction, have not only kept alive but magnified
with uncritical exaggeration, whatever the Fathers
had dreamt or Inodern rhetoric could add, tending to
make prophecy miraculous. Keitll's edition of N e\v..
ton need not be here discussed. Davison, of Oriel, \vith
adlnirable skin, threw his argun1ent into a series as
it were of hypothetical syllogisms, with only the defect
C,vhich some readers overlook) that his minor premise
can hardly in a single instance be proved. Yet the
stress which he lays on the n10ral e]en1ent of prophecy
atones for his sophistry as regards the predictive.
On the whole, even in England, there is a wide gulf
bet\veen the arguments of our genuine critics, \vith
the convictions of our n10st learned clergy, on the
one side, and the assumptions of popular declamation
on the other. This may be seen on a con1parison
of ICidder with Keith. 2 But in Germany there has

Notes, by Lowth, Blayney, Newcome, 'VintIe, Horsley, &c. London.
1836. A book unequal, but useful for want of a better, and of which a
revision, if not an entire reeast, with the aid of rpcent expositors, might
enlploy our Biblical scholars.
1 , Of prophecies in the sense of prognost-lcation I utterly deny that there
is any instance delivered by one of the illustrious Diadoche, whom the Jew-
ish church comprised in the name Prop/lets-and I shall regard GjJrus as
an exception, when I believe the I37th Psalm to have been composed by
David. . . . .
Nay, I will go farther, and assert that the cOlltrary belief, the hypothesis
of prognostication, i
in irreconcileable oppug-nancy to our Lord's declara-
tion, that the times hath the Father resenTed to Himself.'-.1J.Iemoir of
Gary, vol. ii. p. 180.
2 Amongst recent author8, Dr. Palfrey, an American scholar, has
expounded in five learned volumes the difficulties in current traditions abGut
prophecy; but instead of remedJing these by restricting the idea of revela-

BUllsen's Biblical Re8earches.
been a path\va.y strean1ing \vith light, fronl Eichhorn
to E\vald, aided by the poetical penetration of Herder
and the philological researches of Gesenius, through-
out \vhich the value of the n10ral element in prophecy
has been progressively raised, and that of the directly
predicti ve, \vhether secular or l\Iessianic, has been
lo\V'ered. Even the conservatisill of Jahn amongst
Romanists, and of Hengstenberg aU10ngst Protestants,
is free and rational, cOIn pared to \vhat is often in this
country required \vith denunciation, but seldom de-
fended by argull1ent.
To this inheritance of opinion Baron Bunsen suc-
ceeds. ICno\ving these things, and \vriting for men
\vho kno,v then1, he has neither the advantage in

67

tiOll to
Toses and the Gospels, he would have done better to seek a defini-
tion of revelation which should apply to the Psalms, and Prophets, and
Epistles.
1\11'. Francis Newman, in his Hebrew JJIonarcny, is historically consistent
in his expm-itions, which have not been controverted by any serious argu-
ment; but his mind seems to fail in the Ideal element; else he \Vould see,
that the typical ideas (or patience or of glory) in the Old Testament, find
their culminating fulfilment in the Xew.
:\11'.
Iansel's Bampton Lectures must make even those who value his
argument, regret that to his acknowledged dialectical ability he has not
added the l.udiments of Biblical criticism. In all his volume not one text
of Seripture is elucidated, nor a single difficulty in the evidences of Christi-
anity removed. Recognised mistranslations, and misreadings, are alleged
as arguments, and passages from the Old Testament are employed without
reference to the illustration, or inversion, which they have received in the
New. Hence, as the eristic arts of logic without knowledge of the subject-
matter become powerle
s, the author is a mere gladiator hitting in the
dark, and his blows fall heaviest on what it was his duty to defend. As to
his main argument (surely a strange parody of Butler), the srntence from
Sir 'V. Hamilton prefixed to his volume, seems to me its gem, and its
confutation. Of the reasoning, which would bias our interpretation of
Isaialt, by telling us Feuerbaeh was an atheist, I need not say a word.
\Ve are promi:.;ed from Oxford farther elucidations of the l\Iinor Prophets
by the Regius Professor of Hebrew, whose book seems launched sufficiently
to catch the gales of friendship, without yet tempting out of harbour
the blasts of criticism. Let us hope that, when the work appears, its inter-
pretations may differ from those of a Catena Aurea, published under high
auspices in the same university, in whi('h the narrative of Uriah the Hittite
is i!nproved by making David represent Christ, and Uriah symbolize the
devIl; so that the grievous crime which 'displeased the Lord,' becomes a
typical prophecy of Him who was harmless and undefiled!
F 2

68

Bunsen' 8 B'iblz.cal Researches.

argument of unique knowledge, nor of unique igno-
rance. He dare not say, though it ,vas fornlerly said,
that David foretold the exile, because it is nlentioned
in the Psalnls. He cannot quote Nahum denouncing
ruin against Nineveh, or Jeremiah against Tyre,
without renlembering that already the Babylonian
po,ver thre,v its shadow across Asia, and Nebuchad-
nezzar ,vas mustering his arlnies. If he ,vould
quote the book of Isaiah, he cannot conceal, after
Gesenius, E,vald, and l\Iaurer have ,,"ritten, that the
book is C0111posed of elenlents of different eras. Find-
ing Perso-Babylonian, or ne\v-coined ,vords, such as
saga'Jl8 for offieers, and Chaldaic fornls of the Hebrew
verb, such as Aphel for IIiphil, in certain portions, and
observing that the political llorizon of these portions
is that of the sixth century, ,vhile that of the elder or
more purely Hebraic portions belonged to the eighth, he
nlust accept a theory of aut.horship and of prediction,
lTIodified accordingly. So, if under the head of
Zechariah he finds three distinct styles and aspects of
affairs, he must ackno,vledge so nluch, ,vhether he is
rigllt or ,vrong in conjecturing the elder Zechariah of
the age of Isaiah to have ,vritten the second portion,
and Uriah in J eremiall' s age the third. If he ,voulù
quote 1\'1icah, as designating Bethlehem for the birth-
place of the lVlessiah, he cannot shut his eyes to the
fact, that the Deliverer to come frolll thence ,vas to be a
conten1porary shield against the Assyrian. If he
would fûllo,v Pearson in quoting the second Psahn,
17tou art 'lilY 8on; he kno,vs that Hebre,v idioll1 con-
vinced even Jerome l the true rendering ,vas, worship
purely. He lTIay read in Psaln1 xxxiv. that, 'not a
bone of the righteous shall be broken,' but he ll1USt
feel a difficulty in detaching this fron1 the context, so

1 Cavillatur . . . . quod posuerim, . . . . Ado.rate pupè
. . . . ne vÌolentus viderer Ìnterpres, et Jud. locum darem.-Hieron.
c. Rvffin.
19.

BUllsen's Biblical Researche8.

69

as to make it a prophecy of the crucifixion. If he
accepts mere versions of Psalm xxii. 17, he may
wonder ho,v 'piercing the hands and the feet' can fit
into the ,vhole passage; but if he prefers the 1110st
ancient Hebre,v reading, he finds, instead of 'J}iercing,'
the con1parison 'like a lion,' and this corresponds suffi-
ciently ,vith the 'dogs' of the first clause; though a
n10ral1y certain enlendation ,voulc1 make the parallel
1110re perfect by reading the ,vord 'lions' in both
clauses.! In either case, the staring monsters are in-
tended, by,vhofi1 Israel is surrounded and torn. Again
he finds in Hosea that the Lord loved Israel ",.hen
he ,vas young, and called him out of Egypt. to be his
son; but he must feel, ,vith Bishop Kidder, that such
a citation is rather accolnmodated to the flight of
Joseph into Egypt, than a prediction to be a grounC:
of argunlent. Fresh from the services of Christ-
mas, he may sincerely exclaim, Unto us a child Z.8 óorn,.
but he kno,vs that the Hebrew translated .JIight!J God,
is at least. disputable, that perhaps it n1eans only Strong
and l\Iighty One, Father of an Age; and he can never
listen to anyone ,vho pretends that the 1\laiden's
Child of Isaiah vii. 16, ,vas not to be born in the
reign of Ahaz, as a sign against the Kings Pekah
and Rezin. In the case of Daniel, he may doubt
,vhether all parts of the book are of one age, or ,vhat
is the starting point of the seventy ,veeks; but t\VO
results are clear beyond fair doubt, that the period of
,veeks ended in the reign of Antiochus Epiphanes, and
that those portions of the book, supposed to be
sp2cially predictive, are a history of past occurrences
up to that reign. 'Vhen so vast an induction on the
destructive side has been gone through, it avails little
that son1e passages Inay be doubtful, one perhaps in
Zechariah, and one in Isaiah, capable of being made

.J By reading ü"N
:J':J for C
:J':J. The Septuagint version may have
arIsen from '.J1E)'Pi1, taken as from 9pJ. .

70

. Bunsen's Biblical Résearches.

directly }'iessianic, and a chapter possibly in Deutero-
no IllY foreshado\ving the final fall of J erusa1em. Even
these fe\v cases, the ren1nant of so much confident
rhetoric, tend to n1elt, if they are not already nlelted,
in the crucible of searching inquiry. If our German
had ignored all tl1at the masters of philology have
proved on these subjects, his countrynlen \vould have
raised a storm of ridicule, at "vhich he must have
drowned himself in the N eckar.
Great then is Baron Bunsen's merit, in accepting
frankly the belief of scholars, and yet not despairin g
of Hebrew PropIlecy as a witness to the kingdon1 of
God. The way of doing so left open to hinl, ,vas to
show, pervading the Prophets, those deep truths
which lie at the heart of Christianity, and to trace
the gro,vth of SUCll ideas, the belief in a righteous
God, and tIle nearness of man to God, the po\ver of
prayer, and the victory of self-sacrificing patience,
ever expanding in men's hearts, until the fulness of
tilne canle, and the ideal of the Divine thought ,vas
fulfilled in the Son of Thran. Such accordingly is the
course our author pursues, not witll the eritical finisIl
of E\vald, but ,vith large moral grasp. 'Vhy he
should add to his III oral and metaphysical basis of
prophecy, a notion of foresight by vision of particulars,
or a kind of clairvoyance, though he adnlits it to bel
a natural gift, consistent ,vith fallibility, is not so easy
to eXplain. One ,vould ,visIl Ile 11light have intended
only the po\,\rer of seeing the ideal in the actual, or of
tracing the Divine Government in the movelnents of
Illen. He seems to Illean more than presentin1ent or

I 'Die Kraft des Schauens, die im l\Ienschen verborgen liegt, uud. yon
der Naturnothwendigkeit befreit, im hebl'äischen Prophetenthum sich zur
wahren Weitanschannng erhoben hat . . . . ist del' Schlüssel,' &c.
Gott in der Geschichte, p. 149.
, J ene Herrlichkeit besteht nicht in dem V orhersagen . . . . Dieses
haben sie gemein mit mancheu AU8sprüchen del' Pythia, . . . . und
mit vielen Weissagungen der Hellsehel'innen dieses J ahrhundel'ts
ide p. 15 T .

Bunsen' 8 Biblical Researches.

71

sagacity; and this element in his system requires
proof.
'1'he most brilliant portion of the prophetical essays
is the treatment of the later Isaiah. 'Vith the inser-
tion of four chapters concerning Hezekiah from the
histories of the kings, the words and deeds of the
elder Isaiah apparently close. It does not follo,v that
all the prophecies arranged earlier in the book are fronl
his lips; proLably they are not; but it is clear to
demonstration,! that the later chapters (xl., &c.,) are
upon the stooping of Nebo, and the bowing down of
Babylon, when the Lord took out of the hand of
Jerusalem the cup of trembling; for the glad tidings
of the decree of return were heard upon the mountains;
and the people went forth, not with haste or flight,
for their God went before theIn, and was their rere,vard
(ch. Iii). So they went forth \vith joy, and \vere led
forth \vith peace (ch.liv). So the arm of the Lord was
laid bare, and his servant who had foretold it was
no,v counted wise, though none had believed his report.
'Ve cannot take a portion out of this continuous song,
and by dividing it as a chapter, separate its priInary
nleaning from what precedes and follows. The servant
in chapters Iii. and liii. 111ust have relation to the servant
in chapters xlii. andx]ix. 'Vho \vas this servant, that had
foretold the exile and the return, and had been a n1an of
grief, rejected of his people, inlprisoned and tr"eated as
a Inalefactor? The oldest Jewish tradition, preserved
in Origen,2 and to be inferred fronl Justin, 3 said the
chosen people-in opposition to heathen oppressors-
an opinion ,vhich suits ch. xlix. ver. 3. Nor is the 4 later

1 To prove this, Jet anyone read Jerome's arguments against it; if the
sacred text itself be not sufficient proof. 'Go ye forth of Babylon,' &c.,
cll. xlviii. 20.
2 C. Celsum, i. 55. (Quoted by Pearson.)
3 For, in making the Gentiles mean Prosel.lJtes, they must have made
th t I I
"" \ , · \ \ , " ' \ \ A,.
'
e servan srae. aJ\J\a TL. 01J TrpO
rOil 1I0P.01l J\f'YfL, Kat r01J
'rWTL
OP.fIlO1J

1nr' al1rÔ1J, K.r.À.-TrJ/pho,
122.
4 Later, because it implies the fall of Jerusalem. It is thought to have

72

Bunsen's Bz.blical ReseaTches.

exposition of the Targum altogether at variance; for
though Jonathan speaks of the 1\iessiah, it is in the
character of a Judaic deliverer: and his expressions
about 'the holy J)eople's being 'lllultiplied,' and seeing
their sanctuary rebuilt, especially ,vhen he calls the
holy people a Te?7lJZant,1 may be fragments of a tradi-
tion older than his time. It is idle, with Pearson,2
to q
ote Jonathan as a ,vitness to the Christian inter-
pretation, unless his cQnceptiol1 of the 1\Iessial1 vvere
ours. But the idea of the Anointed One, ,vhich in
some of the Psalms belongs to Israel, shifted from
tilne to tin1e, being applied now to people, and no,v
to king or prophet, until at length it assunled a
sterner form, as the J e,vish spirit was hardened by
persecutions into a nlore vindicative hope. The first
Jewish expositor ,vho loosened, ,vithout breaking
Rabbinical fetters, R. Saadiah, 3 in the 9th century,
named Jeremiah as the man of grief, and emphatically
the prophet of the return, rejected of his people.
Grotius, vvith his usual sagacity, divined the same
clue; though Michaelis says upon it, pessinlè GTotius.
Baron Bunsen puts together, ,vith masterly analysis,
the illustrative passages of J erenliah; and it is
difficult to resist the conclusion to which they tend.
J erenliall compares his ,vhole people to sheep going
astray,4 and hinlself to 'a lanlb or an ox, brought to
the slaughter.'5 He ,vas taken from prison;6 and

been compiled in the fourth century of our era. It is very doubtful,
whether the Jewish schools of the middle ao'es had (except in fragments)
any Hermeneutic tradition so old as what we g
ther fi'om the Church fathers,
however unfairly this may be reported. l\ly own belief is clear, that they
had not.
I NtV"i' l1'
'l1 jl:!O\ and N1NtV 11' ;t"
.v'.- Targu-m on
Isaiall liii.
2 In Pearson's hands, even the Rabbins become more Rabbinical. His
('itatiol1s from Jùnathan and from Jarchi are most unfair; and in general
he makes their prose more prosaic.
3 Titularly styled Gaon, as president of the Sora school.
4 Jer. xxiii. 1-2; 1. 6-17; xii. 3.
[) Jer. xi. 19.
6 Jer. xxxviii. 4-6, 13; xxxvii. 16.

Bunsen's Biblical Researches.

73

his generation, or posterity, none took account of;1
he interceded for his people in prayer: 2 but ,vas not
the less despised, and a Inan of grief, so that no
sorro,v ,vas like his;3 men assigned his grave ,vith
the ,vicked,4 and his tonlb \vith the oppressors; all
who follo\ved hinl seemed cut off out of the land of the
living, 5 yet his seed prolonged their days;6 his pro-
phecy ,vas fulfilled, 7 and the arm of the Eternal laid
bare; he ,vas counted ,vise on the return; his place
in the book of Sirach 8 sho\vs ho,v eminently he ,vas
enshrined in men's thoughts as the servant of God;
and in the book of lVlaccabees 9 he is the gray prophet,
,vho is seen in vision, fulfilling his task of interceding
for the people.
This is an inlperfect sketch, but may lead readers to
consider the arguments for applying Isaiah Iii. and liii.
to ,Jeremiah. Their ,veight (in the Inaster's hand) is
so great, that if any single person should be selected,
they prove Jeremiah should be the one. N or are they
a slight illustration of the historical sense of that
famous chapter, which in the original is a history.lO
Still the general analogy of the Old Testament which
makes col1ective Israel, or the prophetic remnant,
especially the servant of Jehovah, and the comparison
of c. xlii., xlix. may permit us to think the oldest inter-
pretation the truest; ,vith only this admission, that

1 J er. xi. 19-23; xx. 10; xxxvi. 19; xlv. 2-3.
2 Jer. xviii. 20; xiv. II; xv. i.
3 Jer. xviii. 18; xx. 9-17; Lam. iii. 1-13.
4 Lam. iii. 52, 53, 54; Jer. xxvi. 11-15, 2
; 1Cliv. 15, 16; i. 18, 19.
5 Jer. xlv. I-
; xi. 19; xli. 2-3; with xli. 9-10.
6 Psalm. cxxvi. 1 ; Isaiah xliii. 1-5, 10- 1 4.
7 Lam. 1. 17; Jer. xvi. 15; xxx. 1,2,3, 10, 18; xxxi. 6-12; Isaiah xliv.
7- 8 ; xlvi. 1-9, 10; l. 5- 6 ; Iii. 10-13.
8 Eccles. xlix. 6-7, and J er. i.
9 2 .1\lacc. xv. 13, 14.
10 :rhe tenses from verse 2 on ward are rather historical than predictive;
and 111 vel'. 8, for .he was stri('ken,
he Hebrew. is, ,
, J,'J.:J, the stroke
wa
upon them; I.e. on the generatIon of the faIthful, which was cut off j
when the blood of the Prophets was shed on every side of Jerusalem.

74

Bunsen' 8 Biblical Researches.

the figure of J eremial1 stood forth amongst the Pro-
phets, and tinged the delineation of the true Israel,
that is, the faitliful relJlna'llt ,vho had been disbelieved
-just as the :figure of Laud or H an1illond n1ight
represent the Caroline Church in the eyes of her poet.
If tllis seems but a compromise, it may be justi-
fied by E\vald's phrase, 'Die tvenifJen Treuell illZ Eæile,
Jere171jah und andre,'! though lie makes the servant
idealized Israel.
If any sincere Christian no, v asks, is not then our
Saviour spoken of in Isaiah; let him open his New
Testalnent, and ask there,vith John the Baptist,
whether he was Elias? If he :finds the Baptist
answering I aut not, yet our Lord testifies that in
spirit and po,ver this ,vas Elias; a little reflexion \vill
sho\v ho\v the historical representation in Isaiah liii. is
of some suffering prophet or renlnant, yet the truth
and patience, the grief and triulllph, have their highest
fulfilulent in Him who said, 'Father, not 111Y ,viII,
but thine.' But ,ve must not distort tIle prophets,
to prove the Divine 'VORD incarnate, and then froITI
the incarnation reason back to the sense of prophecy.
Loudly as justice and humanity exclaim against
such traditional distortion of prophecy as makes their
o\vn sacred writings a ground of cruel prejudice against
the Hebrew people, and the fidelity of this remarkable
race to the oracles of their fathers a handle for social
obloquy, the cause of Christianity itself ,vould be the
greatest gainer, if we laid aside weapons, the use of
"\vhich brings shame. Israel ,vou1d be ackno,vledged,
as in SOITIe sense still a
Iessiah, having borne centuries
of reproach through the sin of the nations; but the
Saviour ,vho fulfilled in his o,yn person the highest
aspiration of Hebre,v seers and of mankind, thereby
lifting the ancient words, so to speak, into a ne\v and

1 Die Propheten, d. .Â. B. 2ter Band. pp. 438-453-

BUJlsen's Biblical Researches.

75

higher power, would be recognised as having eminently
the unction of a prophet \vhose ,vords die not, of a
priest in a telnple not n1ade with hands, and of a king
in the realrn of thought, delivering his people from a
bondaO'e of moral evil, ,vorse than Egypt or Babylon.
If alr
ady the vast majorit'J of the prophecies are
ackno\vledged by our best authorities to require 80111e
such rendering, in order to Christianize them, and if
this ackno\vledglnent has becolne uniformly stronger
in proportion as learning ,vas unfettered, the force of
analogy leads us to anticipate that our Isaiah too must
require a similar interpretation. No ne\v principle is
thrust upon the Christian ,vorld, by our historical
understanding of this fan10us chapter; but a case
,vhich had been thought exceptional, is sho,vn to
harmonize ,vith a general principle.
'Vhether the great prophet, ,vhose triun1phant
thanksgiving on the return fron1 Babylon fo1'n1s the
later chapters of our Isaiah, is to ren1ain ,vithout a
nan1e, or ,vhether Baron Bunsen has succeeded in
identifying hinl ,vith BARUCH, the disciple, scribe, and
perhaps biographer or editor of J erenliah, is a question
of probability. ]'fost readers of the argun1ent for the
identity will feel inclined to assent; but a doubt may
occur, \vhether many an unnan1ed disciple of the pro-
phetic school maynot have burnt ,vith kindred zeal, and
used dietion not peculiar to anyone; ,vhile such a
doubt may be strengthened by the confidence with
,vhich our critic ascribes a recasting of Job, and
of parts of other books, to the sanle fa vouri te Baruch.
Yet, if kept within the region of critical conjecture,
his reasons are something more than ingenious. It
may ,veigh \vith SOlne Anglicans, that a letter ascribed
to St. Athanasius Inentions Baruch alnOllO' the ca-
. 1 0
nonlcal prop lets.!

] ' I ' \ \ · - B ' e '" ' E "\ , , '" ' I }- "\
EpEJ.LLa
, Kat (TVV aUT
apovx, P1JVOI., 1T&UTO^1J K.at. P.ET aVTO" E
o:.L1)^,
K.T.^.-Ep
Fest.

76

Bunsen's Biblical Researches.

In distinguishing the man Daniel from our book of
Daniel, and in bringing the latter as low as the reign
of Epiphanes, our author only fo]lo,vs the adnlitted
necessities of the case.! Not only l\Iacedonian ,vords,
such as s!}uljJhonia 2 and jJsGJlterion, but th
texture of
the Chaldaic, ,vith such late forms as 1'
? 11] and
1

the pronolllinal 0 and i1 having passed into
1, and not only minute description of Antiochus's
reign, but the stoppage of such description at the
precise date 169 B.C., 1"en10Ve all philological and critical
doubt as to the age of the book. But ,,,,hat seems
peculiar to Baron Bunsen, is the interpretation of the
four empires' synlbols ,vith reference to the original
Daniel's abode in JS"ineveh: so that the ,vinged lion
traditionally meant the Assyrian enlpire; the bear was
the Babylonian synlbol; the leopard that of the l\Iedes
and Perslans; \v hile the fourth beast represented, as
is not uncommonly held, the s,vay of Alexander. A
like reference is traced in the mention of Hiddekel, or
the Tigris, in ch. x; for, if the scene had been
Babylon under Darius, the river 11lUSt have been the
Euphrates. The truth seems, that starting like nlany
a patriot bard of our o,vn, from a nan1e traditionally
sacred, the ,vriter used it ,vith no deceptive intention,
as a dranlatic forln \vhich dignified his encourage-
ment of his countrymen in their great struggle against
Antiochus.
rhe original place of the book,3 anlongst
the later Hagiographa of the J e,vish canon, and the
absence of any mention of it by the son of Sirach,
strikingly confirm this view of its origin; and, if some
obscurity rests upon details, the general conclusion,
that the book contains no predictions, except by

1 Auberlen indeed defends, but t;ays, 'Die Unächtheit Daniels ist in der
modernen 'l'heologie zum Axiom geworden.' - Der Prophet Daniel. Basel.
18 54.
2 Compare' Philosophy of Univer
al HiRtory. (part of the Hippolyfus),
vol i. pp. 217-219, with Gott in del' Geschichte, Istr'l'heil. pp. 514-540.
3 The saJing that later Jews changed the place of the book in the canon,
seems to rest on no evidence.

Bunsen's Biblical Researches.

77

analogy and type, can hardly be gainsaid. But it
Inay not the less, ,vith SOlne of the latest Psaln1s, have
nerved the Inen of Israel, ,vhen they turned to flight
the arn1ies of the aliens; and it suggests, in the
Goùless invader, no slight forecast of Caligula again
invading the Teinple ,vith like abolnination, as ,veil as
of
Nhatever exalts itself against faith and conscience,
to the end of the ,vorld. I t is tinle for divines to
recognise these things, since, ,vith their opportunities
of study, the current error is as discreditable to
thell1, as for the well-lueaning cro\vd, ,vho are taught
to identi.fy it ,vith their creed, it is a matter of grave
con1passlon.
It provokes a sl111le on serious topics to ob8erve the
zeal ,vith ,vhich our critic vindicates the personality
of Jonah, and the originality of his hymn (the latter
being generally thought doubtful), ,,,,hile he proceeds
to explain that the narrative of our book, in ,vhich the
hyn1n is in1bedded, contains a late legend,1 founded on
n1iscollception. One can in1agine the cheers ,vhich
the opening of such an essay Inight evoke in some
of our o,vn circles, changing into indignation as the
distinguished foreigner developed his vie\vs. After
t
1Ís, he nlight speak I110re gently of mythical theo-
rIes.
But, if such a notion alarlns those ,vho think that,
apart froIn on1niscience belonging to the J e'vs, the
proper conclusion of reason is atheism; it is not in..
consistent ,vith the idea that Aln1ighty God has been
pleased to educate 111en and nations, en1ploying in1a-
gination no less than conscience, and suffering His
lessons to play freely within the limits of humanity
and its shortconlÎngs. K or ,viII any fair reader rise
froin the prophetical disquisitions ,vithout feeling that
he has been under the guidance of a lllaster's hand.

1 The present writer feels excused from l'epeatingo here the explanation
gÏ\rcn in the appendix to his SennoJl, on Christian Freedom. London" IS;}8.

78

Bz lSeJ' 8 Biblical Researches.

The great result is to ,indicate the ".ork of thp
Eternal Spirit; that abiding influence, "Which a" our
ChUl"ch teaches us in the Ordination Service, under-
lies all others, and in which converge all inlages of
old titHe and means of grace no"
; tenlple, Scripture,
finger, and hand of God; and again, preaching,
acra-
ment
, ,,-aters "hich comfort, and tlanle which burns.
If such a Spirit did not d,,-ell in the Church the Bible
,vould not bp inspired for the Bible is, before all
thinQ'
, thp ,vritten ,oice of the congreg-ation. Bold
as s;ch a theor}? of in'piration llla}?
ou;';d, it "
as the
earliest creed of the Church, and it is the on I, one to

which the facts of '3cripture ans,,-er. The saered
writers ackno"ledge themsel,es men of like passions
,,-ith ourselves, and "
e are promised illumination
from the Spirit which d,,
elt in them. Hence, ,,-hen
"e find our Prayer-book constructed on the idea of
the Church being an inspired society, instead of ob-
jecting that everyone of us is fallible, v;e should
define in
piration consistently "ith the fact,;;; of Scrip-
ture, and of human nature. These ".ould neither
exclude the idea of fallibilitT anlongo Israelites of old,
nor teach us to quench th; Spirit in true hearts for
e,er. But if anyone prefers thinking the Sacred
"T1-iters pa
sionless n1achines, and calling Luther and
::\Iilton (uninspired,' let him co-operate in researches
b
? ,,-hich his theory, if true, will be triumphantly
confirnled. Let hin1 join in considering it a religious
duty to print the mo
t genuine text of tho
e ,,-ords
which he calls Divine; let him yield no grudging-
assent to the removal of demonstrated interpolations
in our text or errors in our tran
lation; let him give
English equi,alents for it
Latinisms, once natural,
but no,,- become decepti\
e; let him next trace fairly
the grov;th of our complex doctrines out of scriptural
germs, "hether of simple thought or of Hebre,," idiom;
then, if he be not prepared to trust our Church with
a larger freeùom in incorporating into her language

BUJlsen' 8 Biblical Researche8.

79

the results of such inquiry and adapting one-sided
forn1s to ,,-iller experience, he ,viII at lea
t have ac-
quired such a kno,vledge of this field of thought as
n1ay induce hiln to treat labourers in it "\Vith respect.
A recurrence to first principles, eyen of Reyelation,
TI1aY, to n1inds prudent or timid, seem a process of more
dal
ger than ad,antage; and it is possible to defend
our traditional theology, if stated reasonably, and "ith
allo,vance for the accidents of its gro,,-th. But 'w'hat
is not possihle, ,,-rith honesty, is to uphold a fabric
of n1ingled faith and speculation, and in the same
breath to violate the instinct "hich believed, and
blindfold the mind ,yhich reasoned. It "\Vould be
strange if God's work ,,"'ere preserved, by disparag-
ing the instruments vçhich His wisdon1 chose for it.
On turning to the Hippolglls 1 ,,-e find a congeries
of subjects, but yet a "Thole, pregnant and suggestive
beyond any book of our titne. To lay deep the founda-
tions of faith in the neces
ities of the human mind,
and to establi
h its confirmation by history, distin-
gui::;hing the local from the universal, and translat-
ing the idioms of priesthoods or races into the broad
speech of humanity, are an10ngst parts of the great
argun1ent. Of those ,yonderful aphorisms, "hich are
further de\'eloped in the second volulne of Got ill der
Ge8chichte, suffice it here, that their author stand
at
the farthest pole from tho
e ,,-ho find no clivine foot-
steps in the Gentile ,yorld. He believes in Christ,
because he first believes in God and in mankind.
In this he harillonizes ,vith the church Fathers be-
fore
\..ugustine, and "With all our deepest E,ancreli.
cal :,chool. In handling the X e,,'" Testalllent he o re-
n1ains faithful to his habit of exaltino- S p iritual ideas
o ,

1 Hippolytus and his Age, by Chr. C. J. Bunsen, &c. London, 18 5 2 .
2nd eùition, reea
t, London, 1854. The awakeninO' fr
shne55 of the first
etlition is hardly replaced by the fulness of the sec(
d. It is to be wished
that the Biblical portions of the Philosophy of (
llht:1
al Histol"Y, \"01. ii.
pp. 149-33 8 , were reprinted in a cheap form.

80

Bunsen' 8 Biblical Researche8.

and the leading characters by ,vhose personal impulse
they have been stanlped on the world. Other foun-
dation for healthful nlind or durable society he suffers
no man to lay, save that of Jesus, the Christ of God.
In Him he finds brought to perfection that religi-
ous idea, ,vhich is the thought of the Eternal, ,vith-
out confornlity to ,vhich our souls cannot be saved
from evil. He selects for enlphasis such sayings as,
, I callie to cast fire upon the earth, and
ow I
()oltld it
were alread!! kindled! I have a baptis1Jl to be baptized
with, and how aNt I straitened until it óe accouplished!'
In these he finds the innernlost mind of the Son of
1\fan, undinlnled by the ha7.e of mingled imagination
and remenlbrance, ,vith ,yhich llis a,vflil figure should
scarcely fail to be at lengtll invested by affection.
The glilnpses tlius afforded us into the depth of our
Lord's purpose, and his la,v of giving rather than
receiving, explain the wonder-working po,ver ,vith
'v hich he ,yielded the truest hearts of his genera-
tion, and correspond to his life and death of self-
sacrifice.
This recognition of Christ as the lTIoral Saviour of
mankind Inay seem to sonle Baron Bunsen's most
obvious claini to the nalne of Christian. For, thougll
he embraces witll more than orthodox ,varnlth New
Testament terms, he explains theln in such a ,yay,
that he nlay be charged \\Tith using Evangelical lan-
guage in a philosophical sense. But in reply he ,vould
ask, "That proof is there that the reasonable sense of
St. Paul's ,yords ,vas not the one ,vhich the Apostle
intended? vVhy nlay not justification by faith have
nleant the peace of Inind, or sense of Divine approval,
which comes of trust in a righteous God, rather than
a fiction of merit by transfer? St. Paul ,vould then
be teaching moral responsibility, as opposed to sacer-
dotalisnl; or that to obey is better than sacrifice.
Faith ,vould be opposed, not to the good deeds ,vhich
conscience requires, but to works of appeaselnent

BUJlsen's Biblical Reseal"ches.

81

by ritual. Justification ,vonld be neither an arbitrary
ground of confidence, nor a re,vard upon condition of
our disclaiuling n1erit, but rather a verdict of forgive-
ness upon our repentance, and of acceptance upon the
oflerinO' of our hearts. It is not a fatal objection, to
say th
t St. Paul ,yould thus teach Natural Religion,
unless we ,vere sure that he ,vas bound to contradict
it; but it is a confirnlation of the vie, v, if it brings
his hard
a.rings into harnlony \vith the Gospels and
,vith the Psahns, as ,yell as \vith the instincts of our best
conscience. If ,ve had dreanlec1 of our nearest kindred
in irreconcilable cOlllbat, and felt anguish at the
thoug1).t of opposing either, it could be no greater
relief io a,vake, and find them at concord, than it
,vould be to sonle minds to find the antagonisnl be-
t\veen Nature and Revelation vanishing 1 in a ,vider
grasp and deeper perception of the one, or in a better
balanced statelnen t of the other.
If our philosopher had persuaded us of the llloral
nature of Justification, he would not shrink from
adding that Regeneration is a correspondent giving
of insight, or an a\vakening of forces of the soul. By
I
esurrection he ,vould mean a spiritual quickening.
Salvation ,vonId be our deliverallce, not from the life-
giving God, but from evil and darkness, ,vhich are His
finite opposites, (
/zVTlKEíJ1fVOc;.) Propitiation ,vonld be
the recovery of that peace, ,vhich cannot be ,vhile sin
divides us fi"onl the
earcher of hearts. The eternal
is \vhat belongs to God, as spirit, therefore the negation
of things finite and unspiritual, whether ,vorId, or
letter, or rite of blood. 'fhe hateful fires of t,he vale
of Hinnoln, (Gehenna,) are hardly in the strict letter
Í1nitatecl by the God who has pronounced thenl cursed,
but may serve as images of distracted remorse. Hea-

1 'The doctrine of the Fall, the doctrine of Grace, and the doctrine of
the Atonement, are grounded in tlte instincts of mankind.'-Mozley on
Predestinatioll, chap. xi. p. 331.

G

82

BUJlsen's Biblical Researches.

yen is not a place, so much as fulfilment of the love
of God. The kingdonl of Goel is no D10re llonlish
sacerdotalisln than J e,vish royalty, but the realization
of the Divine ,ViII in our thoughts and lives. This
expression of spirit, in deed and forn1, is generically
akin to creation, and illustrates the incarnation. For
though the true substance of Deity took body in the
Son of 1\Ian, they \vho kno,v the Divine Substance to
be Spirit, \vill concejye of SUCll enlbodilnent of the
Eternall\Iinc1 very differently from those who abstract
a11 Diyine attributes, suell as consciousness, fore-
thought, and love, and then in1agine a material
IresidllltlJl, on ,vhich they confer the Holiest nan1e.
The Divine attributes are 1 consubstantial ,vith the
Divine essence. He ,vho abides in love, abides in
God, and God in hinl. Thus the incarnation becomes
\vith our author as purely spiritual, as it ,vas ,vith St.
Paul. The son of David by birth is the Son of God
by the spirit of holiness. 'Vhat is flesh, is born of
flesh, and what is spirit, is born of spirit. 2
If \ve ,vould estimate the truth of such vie,vs, the
full import of ,vhich hardly lies on the surface, \ve find
t",.o lines of inquiry present then1selves as criteria:
and each of these divides itself into t\VO branches.
First, as regards the subject lllatter, both spiritual
affection and 111 eta physical reasoning forbid us to
confine revelations like those of Christ to the first
half celltm'y of our era, but sho\v at least affinities of
our faith existing in men's minds, anterior to Chris-
tianity, and rene,ved \vith deep echo fron1living hearts
in Inany a generation. Again, on the side of external
criticism, \ye find the evidences of our canonical books
and of the patristic authors nearest to then1, are

1 On this point, the summary of St. Augustine at the end of his 15th
book, ' On tile TrÌ1lit.IJ,' is worth reading.
2 , N eque sermo aliud quam Deus neque caro aliud quam homo: and' PX
carne homo, ex spiritu Deus.'-Tertullian adv. Prax. c. xxvii. Compo
Romans i. 1-3.

BUJlsen's Biblical Researches.

83

sufficient to proyc illustration in out\varcl act of prin-
ciples perpetually true; but not adequate to guarantee
narratives inherently incredible, or precepts evidently
,vrong. Hence ,ve are obligecl to assunle in ourselves
a verifying faculty, not unlike the discretion ,y]1Ïch a
mathelnatician ,vouid use in ,veighing a treatise on
geolnetry, or the liberty ,vhich a musician would
reserve in reporting a la,vof harmony. r
rhus, as ,ve
are expressly told, ,ye are to have the ,vitness in our-
selves. It is not our part to dictate to Almighty Goel,
that He ought to have spared us this strain upon our
consciences; nor in giving us through His Son a
deeper revelation of His o,vn presence, ,vas He bound
to accoHlpany His gift by a special fornl of record. 1
Hence there is no antecedent necessity that the least
rational vie,v of the gospel should be the truest, or
that our faith should have no hunlan elelllent, and its
records be exelnpt frolll historical la,v. Rather ,ve
may argue, the lllore Divine the germ, the lllure hunlan
must be the cleveloplnent.
Our author then believes St. Paul, because he under-
stands hiln reasonably. Kor does his acceptance of
Christ's recleln ption fi'om evil bind hiln to repeat
traditional fictions about our canon, or to read its
pages ,vith that dulness '" hich turns synl bol and
poetry into materialislll. On the side of history lies
the strength of his genius. His treatnlent of the
N e,v Testalnent is not very unlike the acute criticisnl
of De 'Vette, telllpered by the affectionateness of
Neander. He finds in the first three gospels divergent
forms of the tradition, once oral, and perhaps cate-
chetical, in the congregations of the apostles. lIe thus
explains the numerous traces characteristic of a tradi-
ti.o
a! narrative. He does not ascribe the quadruple
dlYISIOn of record to the four churches of J erusalenl,
TIon1e, Antioch, and Alexandria, on the same principle

1 Butler's .Analogy. Part ii. ch. iii. Hooker, Eccl. Pol. Books i. ii.
G2

84

Bunsen' 8 Biblz.cal Researche8.

as liturgical families are traced; but he requires time
enough for some development, and for the passing
of S01ne symbol into story. By making the fourth
gospel the latest of all our genuine books, he accounts
for its style (so nluch nlore Greek than the Apocalypse),
and explains many passages. The verse, 'And no
Inan hath ascended up to Heaven, but he that came
do,vn,'l is intelligible as a free con1ment near the end
of the first century; but has no meaning in our Lord's
mouth at a time '\vhen tIle ascension had not been
heard of. So the Apocalypse, if t,aken as a series of
poetical visions,
T hich represent the outpouring of the
vials of wrath upon the city where the Lord was
slain, ceases to be a riddle. Its borizon ans,vers to that
of Jerusalem already threatened by the legions of
Vespasian, and its language is partly adapted from
the older prophets, partly a repetition of our Lord's
warnings as described by the Evangelists, or as
deepened into wilder threatenings in the moutll of
the later Jesus, 2 the son of Ananus. 1'he Epistle
to the Hebre\vs, so different in its conception of
faith, and in its Alexandrine rhythn1, from the
doctrine and the language of St. Paul's known Epistles,
has its degree of discrepance eXplained by ascribing
it to some 3 companion of the apostle's; and n1inute
reasons are found for fixing with probability on Apollos.
The second of the Petrine Epistles, having alike
external and internal evidence against its genuineness,
is necessarily surrendered as a 'v hole; and our critic's
good faith in this respect is nlore certain than the
ingenuity \vith ,vhich he reconstructs a part of it.
The second chapter may not ilnprobahly be a quotation;
but its quoter, and the author of the rest of the epistle,

1 John iii. 13.
2 Josephus B. J. b. vi. c. v.
3.
3 In my own judgment, the Epistle bears traces of being post-apostolic.
iii. 14; xiii. 7; ii. 3; x. J, 25"3 2 .

Bunsen' 8 Biblical Researches.

85

need not therefore have been St. Peter. ,'There so
many points are handled, fancifulness in sonle may be
pardoned; and indulgence is needed for the eagerness
,vith ,vhich St. Paul is made a ,vido,ver, because sonle
fathers 1 misunderstood the texts, 'true yoke-fello,v,'
and 'leading about a sister.'
After a survey of the Canon; the ,vorking as of
leaven in meal, of that a,vakening of nlankind ,vhich
took its Î1npulse froln the life of Christ, is traced
through the first seven generations of Christendom.
After Origen, the first freec101ll of the Gospel gro,vs
faint, or is hardened into a system nlore Ecclesiastical
jn fornl, and nlore dialectical in speculation, the fresh
language of feeling or synl bol being transferred to
the domain of logic, like Homer turned into prose by
a scholiast. It need not, to a philosophical observer,
necessarily follo,v that the change ,vas altogether a
corruption; for it nlay have been the Provid.ential
condition of religious feeling brought into contact ,vith
intellect, and of the heavenly kingdom's expansion in
the ,vorld. The elasticity ,vith ,vhich Christianity
gathers into itself the elements of natural piety, and
assinlilates the relics of Gentile form and usage, can
only be a ground of objection ,vith those ,vho have
reflected little on the nature of revelation. But
Baron Bunsen, as a countryman of Luther, and a
follo,ver of those FrieJlds of God ",.hose profound
mysticism appears in the l'heologia GerJ7laJltCa, takes
decided part ,vith the first freshness of Christian free-
dom, against the confuRed thought and furious passions
,vhich disfigure most of the great councils. Those
,vho imagine that the la,vs of criticism are arbitrary
(or as they say, subjective), may learn a differeIi't
lesson fronl the array of passages, the balance of
evidence, and the estinlate of each author's point of
vie,v, ,vith ,vhich the picture of Christian antiquity

1 Clement and Origen, amongst others.

8û

BUlZsen's Biblical Researches.

is unrolled in the pages of the II71Pol!jflls. Every
triunlph of our faitll, in purifying life, or in softenil1g
and enlightening barbarism, is there expressed in the
lively records of Liturgies and Canons; and again
the shado\ys of night approach, ,vith nlonkish fana-
ticism and imperial tyranny, amidst intrigues of
bishops \vho play the parts, alternately, of courtier
and of denlagogue.
The picture \vas too truly painted for that ecclesias-
tical school ,vhich appeals loudest to antiquity, and
has most reason to dread it. While they inlagine a
system of Divine immutability, or one in \vhich, at
\vorst, holy fathers unfolded reverently Apostolic
oracles, the true Ilistory of the Church exhibits the
turbulent gro\vth of youth; a democracy, \vith all its
passions, transfornling itself into sacerdotalism, and
a poetry, \vith its figures, partly represented by doc-
trine, and partly perverted. Even the text of Scrip-
ture fluctuated in sY111pathy with the changes of the
Church, especially 1n passages bearing on asceticism,
and the fuller developnlent of the Trinity. The first
Christians held that the heart ,vas purified by faith; the
accompanying symbol, ,vater, becanle by degrees t,he
instrull1ent of purification. IIoly baptisln was at
first preceded by a Vo\V, in ,vhich the young soldier
expressed his consciousness of spiritual truth; but
"Then it became t\visted into a false analogy with
circumcision, the rite degenerated into a nlagical
form, and the Augustinian notion, of a curse inherited
l)y infants, ,vas developed in connexion ,vitIl it. Sacri-
fice, ,vith the Psalnlist, 11leant not the goat's or heifer's
blood-shedding, but the contrite heart pxpressed by it.
So, "Tith St. Paul, it nleant the presenting of our
souls and bodies, as an oblation of the reason, or
,vorship of the nlil1d. The ancient litul'gies contain
l)rayers that God \vauId 111ake our sacrifices' rational,'
that is spiritual. Religion \vas thus moralized by a
sense of the righteousness of God; and morality

BUJlseJl's Biblical Researches.

87

transfigured int.o l
eligion, by a sense of His holiness.
Ve:stige8 of this ear1iest creed yet rell1ain in our COIll-
munion service. As in life, so in sacranlent, the first
Christians offered themselves in the spirit of Christ;
therefore, in his nanle. But ,vhen the priest took the
place of the congregation, "\vhen the sacramental signs
,vere treated as the natural body, and the bodily
sufferings of Christ enhanced above the self-sacrifice
of his ,vill even to the death of the cross, the centre
of Christian faith becalne inverted, though its fornl re-
nlainec1. J\Ien forgot that the "Triter to the Hebre,vs
exalts the blood of an everlasting, that is, of a spiritual
covenant; for ,vhat is fleshly, vanishes a,vay. The
angels ,vho hover ,vith phials, catching the drops from
the cross, are pardonable in art, but luake a step in theo-
logy to\vards transubstantiation. Salvation fronl evil
through sharing the Saviour's spirit, was shifted.into a
notion of purchase from God through the price of his
bodily pangs. The deep drama of heart and nlind
becanle externalized into a cOlnnlercial transfer, and this
effected by a form of ritual. So ,vith the more specu-
lative fathers, the doctrine of the Trinity ,vas a pro-
founù llletaphysical problem, ,veùded to ,vhat seenled
consequences of the incarnation. But in ruder hands,
it becanle a materialism ahnost idolatrous, or an
arithmetical eniglna. l Even now, different accepters
of the saIne doctrinal terms hold 11lany shades of COll-
ception bet\veen a philosophical vie,v ,vhich recom-
mends itself as easiest to belieye, and one felt to
be 80 irrational, that it calls in the aid of terror.
'Quasi non unitas, irratiollaliter collecta, hæresin
faciat; et Trinitas ratioJlaliter expensa, veritatem
constituat,' said Tertullian. 2

1 See this shown, with just rebuke of some Oxford sophistrie
, in the
learned Bishop Kaye's Council of Niræa, London, 18.33; a book of
admirable moderation, though hardly of speculative power. See pp. 163,
168, 194, 199, 21 9, 226, 25 1 , 252.
2 .Adv. Pra.r. c. iii.

88

Bunsen's Biblical Researche8.

The historian of such variations ,vas not likely,
,vith those 'v hose theology consists of invidious ternls,
to escape the nickname of Pelagian or Sabellian.
He evidently could not state Original Sin in so exag-
gerated a forlll as to lllake the design of God altered
by the fir
t agents in his creation, or to destroy the
notion of Inoral choice and the foundation of ethics.
Nor could his Trinity destroy by inference that divine
Unity ,vhicll all acknowledge in tern1S. The fall of
Adanl represents ,vith hinl ideally the circulllscrip-
tion of our spirits in limits of flesh and tin1e, and
practically the selfisll nature ,vith ,vhich ,ve fall fronl
the likeness of God, ,vhich should be fulfilled in n1an.
So his doctrine of the Trinity ingenuously avoids
building on texts ,vhich our Unitarian critics from
Sir Isaac N e\vton to Gilbert 'VakefÌeld have in1-
pugned, but is a philosophical rendering of the first
chapter of St. John's Gospel. The profoundest ana-
lysis of our ,vorid leaves the la,v of thought as its
ultin1ate basis and bond of coherence. This thought
is consubstantial ,vith the Being of the Eternal I A:nI.
Being, beconling, and aniinating, or substance, think-
ing, and conscious life, are expressions of a Triad,
,vhich may be also represented as ,yill,l ,visdo111, and
love, as light, radiance, and warnlth, as fountain,
strealn, and united flow, as lllind, thought, and con-
sciousness, as person, ,vord, and life, as Father, Son,
and Spirit. In virtue of such identity of Thought
with Being the prinlitive Trinity represented neither
three originant principles nùr three transient lJhases,
but three eternal inherellcies in one Divine l\lind.
'The unity of God, as the eternal Father, is the 2
fundamental doctrine of Christianity.' But the Di-

1 'Anima hominis naturâ suâ in se habet Ss. Trinitatis simulacrum; in
se enim tria complectitur, l\Ientem, Intellectum, et V oluntatem ;
cogitat . . . percipit . . . vult.'-Bede i. 8. Copying almost
verbally St. Augustine.
:: Hippol!/tus, vol. ii. p. 46. 1st ed.

BUJlsen's Biblical Resea1'"ches.

89

vine Consciousness or "Tisdom, consubstantial ,vith the
Eternal 'Vill, becolning personal in the Son of nlan, is
the express inlage of the Father; and Jesus actually,
but also mankind ideally, is the Son of God. If all
this has a 8abellian or ahnost a Brahmanical sound,
its in1pugners are bound, even on patristic grounds, to
sho\v ho\v it differs froIll the doctrine of Justin l\Iar-
tyr, Tertullian, Hippolytus, Origen, and the historian
Eusebius. If the language of those very fathers who
wrote against different fornls of Sabellianisnl, ,vould,
if no\v first used, be condemned as Sabellian, are ,ve
to follo\v the ancient or the nlodern guides? l\Iay
not a straining after orthodoxy, ,vith all the confusion
incident to ll1etaphysical terms, have led the scholars
beyond their 11lasters? 1Ve have some authorities,
\vho, if Athanasius himself \vere quoted anonYlllously,
\vouId neither recognise the author nor approve his
doctrine. They ,vould judge hilll by the creed bear-
ing his nanle, the sentiments of \v hich are as difficult
to reconcile ,vith his genuine ,yorks as its Latin terms
are \vith his Greek language. Baron Bunsen may ad-
mire that creed as little a
J erelllY Taylor 1 and Tillot-
son did, without necessarily contradicting the great
Father to \vhom it is ascribed. Still more, as a phi-
losopher, sitting loose to our Articles, he may delibe-
rately assign to the conclusions of councils a very sub-
ordinate value; and taking his stand on the genuine
,vords of Holy Scripture, and the inllnutable la,,"s of
God to the human n1ind, he may say either the doc-
trine of the rrrinity agrees ,vith these tests, or, if you
lllake it disagree, you make it false. If he errs in his
speculation, he gives us in his critical researches the

urest nleans
f correcting his errors; and his polemic
IS at least trlunlphant against those ,vho load the
church \vith the conclusions of I )atristic t.houo'ht and
o ,

1 , Libert!! of P}'ophesying,' pp. 4-9 1 - 2 ; vol. vii. ed. Heber. Burnet's
, Own Times.' Letter from Tillotson at the end.

90

Bunsen's Biblical Researches.

forbid our thinking sufficiently to understand thenl.
As the coolest heads at Trent said, Take care lest in
condemning Luther you conden1n St. Augustine; so
if our defenders of the faith ,vould havp n1en believe
the doctrine of the Trinity, they had better not forbid
metaphysics, nor even sneer at Realism.
The strong assertions in the Hippolytu8 concerning
the freedom of the human ,viTI, may require some
balance from the language of penitence and of prayer.
They nlust be left here to comparison ,vith the
constant language of the Greek Church, with the
doctrine of the first. four centuries, ,vith the schoolmen's
practical evasions of the Augustinian standard 'v hich
they professed, and ,vith the guarded, but earnest
protests and linlitations of our o,vn ethical divines fron1
Hooker and J eren1Y Taylor to Butler and Hampden.
On the great hope of n1ankind, the in1n10rtalit,y of
the soul, the Hippolylus left sonlething to be desired.
It had a Brahll1anical, rather than a Christian, or
Platonic, sound. But the second volume of Gott in
der Geschichte seems to inlply that, if the author
recoils froin the fleRhly resurrection and Judaic
millennium of Justin 1\Iartyr, he still shares tIle aspi-
ration of the no blest philosophers else,vhere, and of
the firnler believers anlong ourselves, to a revival
of conscious and individual life, in such a form of
immortality as may consist ",vith union ,vith the
Spirit of our Eternal life-giver. Ren1ar
able in the
same volume is the generous vindication of the first
Buddhist Sakya against the nlisunderstandings ,vhicll
fastened on hinl a doctrine of atheism and of anni-
hilation. rrhe penetrating prescience of Neander seems
borne out on this point by genuine texts against the
harsher judgment of recent Sanskrit seholars. He
judged as a philosopher, and they as gran1marians.
It would be difficult to say on ,vhat subject Baron
Bunsen is not at honle. But none is handled by him
,vith more familiar mastery than that of Liturgies,

Bunsen' 8 Biblical Researches.

91

ancient and modern. He has endeavoured to enlarge
the llleagre stores of tIle Lutheran Church by a collec-
tion of evan O"e]ical songs and prayers. l Rich in
prinlitiye Illodels, yet adapted to Lutheran habits,
this collection might be suggestive to any N onCOll-
fornlist congregations which desire to enrich or tenlper
their devotions by the aid of conlIDon prayers. Even
our o\vn Church, though not likely to recast her ritual
in a foreign Dlould, nlight observe ,vith profit the greater
ralnlness and harmony of the older fornls, as com-
pared ,yith the alnplifications, ,vhich she has in some
cases adopted. Our Litany is hardly equal to its germ.
Nor do our collects exhaust. available stores. Yet if
it be one great test of a theology, that it shall bear to
be prayed, our author has hardly satisfied it. Either
reverence, or deference, may have prevented him from
bringing his prayers into entire harmony with his
criticislllS; or it lllay be that a discrepance, which ,ve
should constantly clinlinish, is likely to renlain bet\veen
our feelings and our logical necessities. It is not the
less certain, that some reconsideration of the polemical
element in our Liturgy, as of the harder scholasticism
in our theology, ,vould be the natural offspring of any
age of research in \vhich Christianity ,vas free; and if
this, as seeins but too probable, is to be nluch longer
denied us, the consequence Il1USt be a lessening of nloral
strength \vithin our pale, and an accession to influences
,vhich lNill not alw"ays be friendly. But to estrange our
doctrinal teaching from the convictions, and our prac-
tical adnlinistratioll fronl the influence, of a Protestant
Laity, are parts of one policy, ahd that not al \vays a
blind one. Nor is doctrinal narro\vness of vie\v ,vithout
practical counterpart in the rigidity ,vhich excludes the
breath of prayer from our churches for six days in seven,
rather than pern1it a clergyman to select such portions
as devotion suggests, and average strength perlnits.

1 Gesal1!1-und Gebet-buck. Hamburgh. 18 4 6 .

92

BUJlsen's Biblical Researches.

It did not fall ,vithin the scope of this Essay to
define the extent of its illustrious subject's obligations
C,vhich he ,vould no doubt largely ackno,vledge) to
contemporary scholars, SUCll as 1\lr. Birch, or others.
Nor was it necessary to touch questions of eth..
nology and politics whicll might be raised by those
,vho value Germanism so far as it is human, rather
than so far as it is German. Sclavonians might
lìotice the scant,y ackno,vledgment of the vast contri..
butions of their race to the intellectual wealth of
Gernlany.l Celtic scholars nlight remark that tri..
umph in a discovery whicll has yet to be proved,
regarding the la,v of initial mutations in their language,
is premature. 2 Nor ,vould they assent to our author's
ethical description of their race. So, when he asks:
'Ho,v long shall ,ve bear this fietion of an external
revelation,' -that is, of one violating the heart and
conscience, instead of expressing itself through thelTI-
or ,vhen he says, 'All this is delusion for those who
believe it; but ,vhat is it in the mouths of those \vho
teach it?' -or when he exclaims, , Oh the fools! \vho,
if they do see the ilnminent perils of this age, think
to ward them off by narro,v-n1inded persecution l'
and ,vhen l1e repeats, 'Is it not time, in truth, to
\vithdraw the veil from our misery? to tear off the
n1ask fronl hypocrisy, and destroy that sham ,vhich is
undermining all real ground under our feet? to point
out the dangers ,yhich surround, nay, threaten already
to engulf us?' -there \vill be SOlne \vbo think his
language too vehen1ent for good taste. Others ,viII
think burning ,vords needed by the disease of our time.
rhey ,viII not quarrel on points of taste ,vith a man

lOne might ask, whether the experience of our two late:;;t wars encouraO'es
our looking to Germany for any ungelfìsh sympathy with the riO'ht
of
nations? Or has she not rather earned the curse of l\leroz ? 0
2 So the vaunted discovery of Professor Zeu8s, deriving CYJIRY from an
imaginary word 'Com broges; is against the testimony of the best Greek
geographers.

Bunsen's Biblical Researches.

93

,vho in our darkest perplexity has reared again the
banner of truth, and utt,ered thoughts ,vhich give
courage to the weak, and sight to the blind. If Pro-
testant Europe is to escape those shado\vs of the
t\velfth century, ,vhich ,vith ominous recurrence are
closing round us, to Baron Bunsen ,viII belong a fore-
ll10St place anlong the champions of light and right.
..A.n y points disputable, or partially erroneous, ,vhich
may be discovered in his many ,yorks, are as dust in
the balance, compared ,vith the mass of solid learning,
and the elevating influence of a noble and Christian
spirit. Those ,vho have assailed his doubtful points
are equally opposed to his strong ones. Our o\vn
testimony is, ,vhere ,ve have been best able to follo,v
hÎ1n, we have generally found most reason to agree
,vith hin1. But our little survey has not traversed
his vast field, nor our plunul1et sounded his depth.

Bunsen, with voice, like sound of trumpet born,
Conscious of strength, and confidently bold,
'Veil feign the sons of Loyola the
corn
\Vhich from thy books would seare their startled fold-
To thee our Earth disclosed her purple monl,
And Time his long-Io
t centuries unrolled;
Far Realms unveiled the mystery of their Tongue;
Thou all their garland.s on the CROSS hast hung.
::\Iy lips but ill could frame thy Lutheran speech,
Nor suits thy Teuton vaunt our British pride-
But ah! not dead my soul to giant reach,
That envious Eld's vast interval defied;
And when those fables strange, our hirelings teach,
I saw by g-enuine learning cast aside,
Even like Linllæus kneeling on the soù,
For faith from falsehood severed, thank I GOD.

ON THE STUDY OF THE EVIDENCES OF
CHRI STIANITY.

rJ1HE investigation í>f that important and extensive
..l subject '\'lhich includes ,vhat have been usually
designated as "rhe Evidences of Revelation,' has pre-
scriptively occupied a considerable space in the field
of theological literature, especially as cultivated in
England. There is scarcely one, perhaps, of our more
en1il1ent divines ,vho has not in a greater or less de-
gree distinguished himself in this departnlent, and
scarcely an aspirant for theological distinction ,vho
has not thought it one of the surest paths to that
eminence, con1bining so many and varied motives of
all1bition, to con1e for\vard as a chan1pion in this
arena. At the present day it ll1ight be supposed the
discussion of such a subject, taken up as it has been
successively in all its conceivable different bearings,
n1ust be nearly exhausted. It must, ho,vever, be
borne in n1ind, that, unlike the esseJltial doctrines of
Christianity, , the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever,'
these eæterllal accessories constitute a subject 'v hich
of necessity is perpetually taking SOn1e\vl1at at least of
a new form, with the succe
sive phases of opinion and
kno,vlcdge. And it thus becoll1es not an unsatisfactory
nor unimportant object, from tin1e to tÎ111e, to revie\v the
condition in ,vhich the discussion stands, and to con1-
lnent on the peculiar features \vhich at any particular
epoch it most prominently presents, as indicative of
strength or weakness-of the advance and security of
the cause-if, in accordance ''lith the real progress of
enlightenn1ent, its advocates have had the ,visdoln to
rescind \Vllat better infornlation sho,ved defective, and

Stud! of the Evidences of Christianity_ 95
to substitute views in accordance ,vith higher kno,v-
leclO'e; or, on the other hand, inevitable sYlnptoms
of
eakness and inefficiency, if such salutary cautions
have been neglected. To offer SOlne general ren1arks
of this kind on the existing state of these discussions
,vill be the oqiect of the pre
ent Essay.
Before proceeding to the 11lain question we nlay,
ho,vever, properly prenlise a brief reflection on the
spirit and tenlper in ,vhich it should be discussed.
In ,vritings on these subjects it nlust be confessed
,ve too often find indications of a poleluical acri-
mony on questions ,vhere a calnl discussion of argu-
111ents ,yould be nlore beconling, as ,veIl as more
consistent \\Tith the proposed oLject; the too fre-
quent assunlption of the part of the special partisan
and ingenious advocate, ,vhen the character to be

ustained should be rather that of the unbiassed
judge; too luuch of hasty and captious objection
on the one hand, or of settled and inveterate preju-
dice on the other; too strong a tendency not
f
lÌrly to appreciate, or even to keep out of sight, the
broader features of the nlain question, in the eager-
ness to single out particular salient points for attack;
too ready a disposition to triumph in lesser details,
l'ather than steadily to grasp more cOlnprehensive prin-
ciples, and leave n1Ïnor difficulties to a\vait their solu-
tion, or to regard this or that particular argulllent as
if the entire credit of t.he cause ,vere staked upon it.
And if on the one side there is often a just conl-
plaint that objections are urged in a nlanner and tone
offensive to religious feeling and conscientious prepos-
sessions, ,vhich are, at least, entitled to respectful
consideration; so, on the other, there is too often
evinced a ,vant of synlpathy ,vith the difficulties
,vhich TIlany so seriously feel in adnlitting the alleged
evidences, and ,vhich lnany habitual believers do not
appreciate, perhaps because they have never thouO'ht
or enquired deeply on the subject; or, ,vhat is mgre,
have believed it "Tong and inlpious to do so.

96 Study of the Evidences of Christianity_
Any appeal to arfJuJJlent must in1ply perfect freedoll1
of conviction. It is a palpable absurdity to put
reaSOJl8 before a man, and yet wish to coupel him to
adopt them, or to anathenlatize hiln if he find then1
unconvincing; to repudiate hÏIn as an unbeliever,
because he is careful to find satisfactory grounds for
llis belief; or to denounce him as a sceptic, because he
is scrupulous to discriminate the truth; to assert that
his honest doubts evince a moral obliquity; in a ,vord,
that he is no judge of his o,vn n1ind; while it is
obviously iInplied that his instructor is so-or, in
other ,vords, is on1niscient and infallible. \Vhen
serious difficulties have been felt and acknowledged
on any iInportant subject, and a writer undertakes
the task of endeavouring to obviate them, it is but a
fair delnand that, if the reader be one of those \vhû
do not feel the difficulties, or do not need or appreciate
any further argument to enlighten or support his
belief, he should not cavil at the introduction of
topics, ,vhich n1ay be valuable to others, though need-
less, or distasteful to himself. Such persons are in
no way called upon to enter into the discussion, but
they are unfair if they accuse those \vho do so of
agitating questions of "Those existence they have been
unconscious; and of unsettling 111 en' s minds, because
their own prepossessions have been long settled, and
they do not perceive the difficulties of others, \vhich it
is the very ain1 of such discussion to renlove.
Perhaps most of the various parties \vho have at all
engaged in the discussion of these su bj ects are agreed
in adlnitting a wide distinction bet\veen the influences
of feeling and those of rea
on; the inlpressions of
conscience and the deductions of intellect; the dicta-
tions of moral and religious sense, and the conclusions
from evidence; in reference especially to the questions
agitated as to the grounds of belief in Divine revela-
tion. Indeed, 'v hen ,ve take into account the nature
of the objects considered, the distinction is manifest

Btud!! oj tile Evidences of Christianity. 97
and undeniable; 'v hen a reference is made to matters
of external fact (insisted on as such) it is obvious that
reason and intellect can alone be the proper judges of
the evidence of such facts. "Then, on the other hand,
the question may be as to points of mor
l or religious
doctrine, it is equally clear, other and hIgher grounds
of judglnent and conviction must be al?peale
to.
In the questions no,v under consIderatIon, both
classes of argunlents are usually involved. It is the
professed principle of at least a large section of those
,vho discuss the subject, that the question is materially
connected ,vith the truth and evidence of certain
external alleged historical facts: ,vhile again, all
will achllit that the most essential and vital portion of
the inquiry refers to matters of a higher-of a nlore
internal, moral, and spiritual kind.
But \vhile this distinction is clearly inlplied and
even professedly acknowledged by the disputants, it
is \vorthy of careful renlark, ho,v extensively it is
overlooked and kept out of sight in practice; ho\v
commonly-almost universally, ,ve find ,vriters and
reasoners taking up the question, even ,vith much
ability and eloquence, and arguing it out sometilnes
on the one, s0111etimes on the other ground, forgetful
of their o\vn professions, and in a \vay often quite
inconsistent \vith them.
Thus ,ve continually find the professed advocates of
an external revelation and historical evidence, never-
theless making their appeal to conscience and feeling,
and decrying the exercise of reason; and charging
those who find critical objections in the evidence \vith
spiritual blindness and nloral perversity; and on the
other hand ,ve observe the professed upholders of
faith and internal conviction as the only sound basis
of religion, nevertheless regarding the external faets
as not less essential truth ,vhich it \vould be profane
to question. It often seems to be rather the \vant of
clear apprehension in the first instance of the distinct
H

98 Stud!! of the Evidences 0/ Christianity.
kind and charact,er of such inquiries, ,vhen on the one
side directed to the abstract question of evidence, and
when on the other pointing to the practical object of
addressing the n10ral and religious f'pelings and affec-
tions, '\vhicll causes so many ,vriters on these subjects
to betray an inconsistency bet,veen their projé8sed
purpose and their ?llode of carrying it out. They avow
11latter-of-fact inquiry-a question of the critical
evidence for alleged events-yet they pursue it as if
it \vere an appeal to moral sentinlents ; in which case it
,vould be a virtue to assent, and a crime to deny: if it
be the one, it should not be proposed as the other.
Thus it is the con1nlon language of orthodox \vritings
and discourses to advise the believer, ,vhen objections
or difficulties arise, not to atten1pt to ofter a precise
ans,ver, or to argue the point, but rather to look at
the ,vhole subject as of a kind ,vhich ought to be exempt
fronl critical scrutiny and be regarded ,vith a submis..
sion oÏ judgment, in the spirit of hun1ility and faith.
'fhis advice n1ay be very just in. reference to practical
in1pressions; yet if the question be one (as is so much
insisted on) of external facts, it alllounts to neither
more nor less than a tacit surrender of the claims of
external evidence and historical reality. ",Ve are told
that ,ve ought to investigate such high questions
rat,her with our affections than ,vith our logic, and
approach thelTI l'ather ,vith good dispositions and
right motives, and ,vith a desire to find the doctrine
true; and thu8 shall discover the real assurance of its
truth in obeying it; suggestions \vhich, ho,vever
good in a 1710ral and practical sense, are surely inap-
plicable if it be made a question of facts.
If we ,vere inquiring into historical evidence in any
other case (suppose e.g. of Cæsar's landing in Britain) it
,vouid be little to the purpose to be told that ,ve must
look at the case through our desires rather than our
reason, and exercise a believing disposition rather than
rashly scrutinize testimony bJT critical cavils. Those

Stud!l of the Evidences of Christianit!l' 99
,vho speak thus on the question of religious belief, in
fact shift the basis of all belief from the alleged evidence
of facts to the influence of an internal persuasion;
they virtually give up the evidential proof so strongly
insisted on, and confess that the "\vhole is, after aU, a
nlere nlatter of feeling and sentinlent, just as nluch as
those to ,vhose views they so greatly object as openly
avo,ving the very sanle thing....
"\Ve find certain forlns of expression conlmonly
stereotyped among a very large class of Divines,
whenever a critical difficulty or a sceptical exception
is urged, ,vhich are very significant as to the pre-
valent view of religious evidence. Their reply is
al ,va ys of this tenor: 'These are not 8U bj ects on
which you can expect demonstrative evidence; you
nlust be satisfied to accept such general proof or
probability as the nature of the question allo\vs: Jrou
nlust not inquire too curiously into these things; it is
sufficient that we have a general illoral evidence of the
doctrines; exact critical discussion ,vill al \va ys rake
up difficulties, to ,vhich perhaps no satisfactory ans,ver
can be at once given. A precise sceptical caviller will
ahvays find new objections a
soon as the first are
refuted. It is in vain to seek to convince reason
unless the conscience and the "\vill be first well-disposed
to accept the truth.' Such is the constant language
of orthodox theologians. "That is it but a nlere trans-
lation into other phraseology, of the very assertions of
the sceptical transcendentalist?
Indeed, ,vith many,vho take up these questions,
they are almost avowedly placed on the ground of
practical expediency rather than of abstraet truth.
Good and earnest men beconH
alarmed for the
daJlgerous consequences they think likely to
'esult
from certain speculations on these subjects, and
thence in arguing against them, are led to aSSUlne
a tone of superiority, as the guardians of virtue
and censors of right, rather than as unprejudiced in-
H 2

100 Stud!! of the Evidences of Christianity.
quirers into tIle matters-of-fact on which, nevertheless,
they professedly make the case rest. And thus a dis-
position has been encouraged to regard any such
question as one of rzght or wrong, rather than one of
truth or eTror: to treat all o
iections as profane, and
to discard exceptions unanswered as shocking and
immoral.
If indeed the discussion were carried on upon the
professed ground of spiritual impression and religious
feeling, there ,vould be a consistency in such a course;
but when evidential argunlents are avowedly addressed
to the intellect, it is especially preposterous to shift the
ground, and charge the rejection of theln on '1JloTal
motives; "\vhile those ,vho impute such bad motiveg
fairly expose thenlselves to the retort, that their O'Yll
belief may be dictated by other considerations than
the love of truth.
Again, in sucll inquiries there is another mate-
rial distinction very cOlnmonly lost sight of; the diffe-
rence between discussing the truth of a conclusion,
or opinion, and the 'lJlode or 'IlleanS of arriving at it ;
or the aT!}ltlnents by which it is supported. Either
Illay clearly be impugned or upheld without impli-
cating the other. 'Ve nlay have the best evidence,
but dra,v a wrong conclusion from it; or we may
support an incontestible truth by very fallacious
arguments.
The present discussion is not intended to be of a
controversial kind, it is purely contemplative and
theoretical; it is rather directed to a calm and un-
prejudiced survey of the various opinions and argu-
ments adduced, "\\7hatever may be their ulterior ten-
dency, on these inlportant questions; and to the
attempt to state, analyse, and estimate them just as
they may seem really conducive to the high object
professedly in vie,v.
The idea of a positive eæternal IJivine revelation of
Borne kind has formed the very basis of all hitllerto

Study oj the Evidences oj Christianity. 101
received systems of Christian belief. The Romanist
indeed reO'ards that revelation as of the nature of a
standing gracle accessible in the living voice of the
Church; \vhich being infallible, of course sufficiently
accredits all the doctrines it announces, and consti-
tutes them Divine. A more 1110dified vie,v has pre-
vRiled among a considerable s
ction of Anglican theo-
logians, \vho ground their faith on the same principles
of Church authority, divested of its divine and infal-
lible character. :1Iost Protestants, \vith more or less
difference of n1eaning, profess to regard revelation as
once for all announced, long since finally closed, per-
Inanently recorded, and accessible only in the written
Divine word contained in the Scriptures. And the
discussion with those outside the pale of belief has
been entirely one as to the validity of those external
marks and attestations by \vhich the truth of the
alleged fact of such communication of the Divine will,
was held to be substantiated.
The scope and character of the various discussions
raised on 'the evidenees of religion,' have varied much
in different ages, follo,ving of course both the view
adopted of revelation itself, the nature of the ob-
jections which for the time seemed most prominent,
or 1110st neces
ary to be combated, and stamped "\vith
the peculiar intellectual character, and reasoning tone,
of the age to which they belonged.
The early apologists were rather defenders of the
Christian cause generally; but ,vhen they entered on
evidential topics, naturally did so rather in accordance
\vith the prevalent modes of thought, than with \vhat
,vouId now be deenled a philosophic investigation of
alleged facts and critical appreciation of testimony
in support of them.
In subsequent ages, as the increasing claims of
infallible Church authority gained ground, to discuss
evidence becalne superfluous, and even dangerous and
impious; accordingly, of this branch of theological

102 Study of the Evidences oj Chrz.stianity.
literature (unless in the most entire subjection' to
ecclesiastical dictation) the mediæval church pre8ellted
hardly any specimens.
It was not perhaps till tJle 15th century, that any

"orks bearing the character of ,vhat are now called
treatises on 'the evidences' appeared; and these ,vere
probably elicited b)T the sceptical spirit which had
already begun to sho\v itself, arising out of the sub-
tilties of the schoolmen. 1
But in 1110dern times, and under Protestant aus-
pices, a greater disposition to follo\v up this kind of
discussion has naturally been developed. The sterner
genius of Protestantisnl required definition, argument,
and proof, ,vhere the ancient church had been content
to impress by the claims of authority, veneration, and
prescription, and thus left the conception of truth to
take the form of a nlere inlpression of devotional feel-
ing or exalted imagination.
Protestantism sought something more definite and
substantial, and its demands were seconded and sup-
ported, more especially by the spirit of metaphysical
reasoning which so ,videly extended itself in the 17th
century, even into the domains of theology; and di-
vines, stirred up by the allegations of the Deists, aimed
at formal refutations of their objections, by dra\ving out
the idea and the proofs of rev-elation into systematic
propositions supported hy logical argun1ents. In that
and the subsequent period the sa111e general style of
argument on these topics prevailed among the advocates
of the Christian cause. The appeal was mainly to the
miracles of the Gospels, and here it was contended we
want merely the same testimony of eye-witnesses
V\Thich would suffice to substantiate any ordinary
n1atter of fact; accordingly, the narratives "\vere to be
traced to writers at the time, who were either theIll-

1 Several such treatises are enumerated and described by Eichhorn. See
Hallam's Lit. of Europe, i. p. 190.

Stud!! of the Evidences of Christianit!!_ 103
selves eye-,vitnesses, or recorded the testimony of
those 'v ho ,,,"ere so, and the direct transmission of the
evidence being thus established, everything ,vas held
to be demonstrated. If any antecedent question ""as
raised, a brief reference to the Divine Omnipotence
to ,vorl. the n1iracles, and to the Divine goodness to
vouchsafe the revelation and confirn1 it by such proofs,
was all that could be required to silence sceptical
cavils.
It is true, indeed, that some consideration of the
interllal evidence derived from the excellence of the
doctrines and morality of the Gospel ,vas allo\ved to
enter the discussion, but it formed only a subordinate
branch of the evidences of Christianity. The main
and essential point ,vas al,vays the consideration of
external facts, and the attestations of testinlony
offered in support of them. Assuming Christianity to
be essentially connected ,vith certain outward and
sensible events, the n1ain thing to be inquired into and
est,ablished, ""as the historical evidence of those events,
and the genuineness of the records of then1; if this
were satisfactorily Inade out, then it ,vas considered
the object was accon1plished. The external facts
sin1ply substantiated, the intrinsic doctrines and
declarations of the Gospel must by necessary conse-
quence be Divine truths.
If ,ve compare the general tone, character, and pre-
ten
ions of those works which, in our schools and
colleges, have been regarded as the standard autho-
ritjes on the subject of 'the evidences,' we n1ust
ackno,,'ledge a great change in the taste or opinions
of the tiInes from the con1mencement of the last
century to the present day; which has led the
student to turn from the erudite folios of Jackson and
Stillingfleet, or the more condensed arguments of
Clarke On the Attributes, Grotius de Veritate, and
Leslie's J.Jlethod 'with the JJeists the universal text-
,
books of a past generation, to the ,vritings of Lardner

104 Study qf the Evidences of ChT-islianify.
and Paley; the latter of whom, in the beginning of
the present century, reigned supreme, the acknow..
ledged champion of revelation, and the head of a
school to which numerous others, as Can1pbell,
Watson, and Douglas, contributed their labours.
But more recently, these authors have been in an emi-
nent degree superseded, by a recurrence to the once
con1paratively neglected resources furnished by Bishop
Butler; of so much le.ss formal, technical, and positive
a kind, yet offering wider and more philosophical
views of the subject; stiJI, however, confessedly not
supplying altogether that comprehensive discussion
which is adapted to the peculiar tone and character of
thought and existing state of kno\vledge in our o,vn
times.
The state of opinion and inforn1ation in different
ages is peculiarly sho"rn in the tone and character of
those discussions \vhich have continually arisen, af-
fecting the grounds of religious belief. rrhe particu-
lar species of difficulty or objection in the reception
of Christianity, and especially of its external manifes-
tations, which have been found most formidable, have
varied greatly in different ages according to the pre-
valent Inodes of thought and the character of the do-
minant philosophy. Thus, the difficulties vvith re-
spect to miraculous evidence in particular, ,vill neces-
sarily be very differently vie\ved in different stages of
philosophical and physical information. Difficulties
in the idea of suspensions of natural laws, in former
ages were not at all felt, canvassed, or thought of.
But in later times they have assumed a 111uch deeper
im portance. In an earlier period of our theological
literature, the critical investigation of the question of
miracles was a point scarcely at all appreciated. The
attacks of the Deists of the ] 7th and early part of
the 18th century were almost wholly directed to other
points. But the speculations of "\V oolston, and still
more the subsequent influence of the celebrated Essay

Study of the Evidences of Christianity. 105
of II UIne, had the effect of directing the attention
of divines more pointedly to the precise topic of lni-
raculous evidence; and to these causes ,vas added the
agitation of the question of the ecclesiastical miracles,
giving rise to the semi-sceptical discussions of l\Iiddle-
ton, ,vhich called forth a nlore exact spirit of examina-
tion into such distinctions as 'v ere needed to preserve
the miracles of the Gospels fronl the criticisnls applied
to those of the Church. This distinction, in fact, in-
volves a large part of the entire question; and to-
,vards marking it out effectually, various precautionary
rules and principles ,vere laid do\vn by several ,vriters.
Thus, Bishop 'Varburton suggested as a criterion the
nece88ity of the miracles to the ends of the dispensa-
tion,l \vhich he conceived ans,vered the demands of
l\Iiddleton. Bishop Douglas made it the test-to con-
nect nliracles with inspiration in those who wrought
them; this, he thought, ,vould exclude the nliracles
of the Church. 2
But it ,vas long since perceived that the argument
from nece8sity of nliracles is at best a very hazardous
one, since it Î1l1plies the presumption of constituting
ourselves judges of such necessity, and adulits the fair
objection-\vhen ,vere nliracles nlore needed than at
the present day, to indicate the truth all1id nlanifold
error, or to propagate the faith? And again, in the
other case, ho\v is the inspiration to be ascertained
apart fronl the nliracles? or, if it be, ,vhat is the use
of the nliracles ? In fact, in proportion as external
evidence to. facts is made the professed demand, it
follows that we can only recur to those grounds and
rules by which the intellect al \vays proceeùs in the

atisfactory investigation of any questions... of fact
and evidence, especially those of ph!J8ical phenomena.
By an adherence to those great principles on ,vhich

1 Div. Leg. ix. 5.

2 Oriterion, pp. 239, 24 1 .

106 Study of the Evidences of ChrÙ;tianily_
all kno\vledge is acquired-by a reference to the
fixed hnvs of belief, and our convictions of esta-
blished order and analogy-we estimate the credi-
bility of alleged events and the value of testimony,
and \veigh them more carefully in proportion as the
matter nlay appear of greater monlent or difficulty.
In appreciating the evidence for allY events of a
striking or wonderful kind, we n1ust bear in mind
the ext
enle difficulty 'v hich al\vays occurs in eliciting
the truth, dependent not on the uncertainty in tIle
transmission of teRtimony, but even in cases where \ve
,vere ourselves ,vitnesses, on the enorn10US influence
exerted by our prepossessions previous to the event,
and by the momentary impressions consequent upon
it. ,Ve look at all events, through the medium of
our prejudices, or eyen ,vhere we lllay have no pre-
possessions, the more sudden and remarkable any oc-
currence may be, the more unprepared we are to judge
of it accurately or to vie\v it caln1ly; our after repre-
sentations, especially of any extraordinary and strik-
ing event, are always at the best mere recolleetions
of our impressions, of ideas dictated by our emotions
at the time, of surprise and astonishment which the
suddenness and hurry of the occurrence did not allo\v
us tin1e to reduce to reason, or to correct by the sober
standard of experience or philosophy.
Questions of this kind are often perplexed for want
of due attention to the la\vs of hUll1an thought and
belief, and of due distinction in ideas and terms. The
proposition 'that an event may he so incredible intrin-
sically as to set aside any degree of testinlony,' in no
way applies to or affects the honesty or veracity of that
testimony, or the reality of the Ï1upres8ioJls on the
minds of the \vitnesses, so far as it relates to the
matter of sensible jact sin1ply. It Inerely means this:
that froln the nature of our antecedent convictions,
the probability of SO'llle kind of mistake or deception
SOJJlew!tere, though we kno\v not where, is greater than

Stud!! of the Evidences of Christianity. 107
the probability of the event really happening in the
wa!/ and from the causes assigned.
This of course turns on the general grounds of our
antecedent convictions. The question agitated is not
that of nlere testimony, of its value, or of its failures.
It refers to those antecedent considerations ,vhich must
govern our entire vie,v of the subject, and ,vhich being
dependent on higher la,vs of belief, must be paramount
to all attestation, or rather belong to a province
distinct from it. 'Vhat is alleged is a case of the
supernatural; but no testimony can reach to the
supernatural; testimony can apply only to apparent
sensible facts; testilnony can only prove an extra-
ordinary and perhaps inexplicable occurrence or phe-
nomenon: that it is due to supernatural causes is
entirely dependent on the previous belief and assump-
tions of the parties.
If at the present day any very extraordinary and
unaccountable fact ,vere exhibited before the eyes of
an unbiassed, educated, well-informed individual, and
supposing all suspicion of Ï1nposture put out of the
question, his only conclusion \vould be that it ,vas
son1ething he ,vas unable at present to explain; and
if at all versed in physical studies, he ,vould not for an
instant doubt either that it ,vas really due 'fo SOllle
natural cause, or that if properly recorded and ex-
an lined, it \vould at some future time receive its
explanation by the advance of discovery.
It is thus the prevalent conviction that at the
present day llliracies are not to be expected, and con-
sequently alleged Inarvels are cOlnnlonly discredited.
But as exception8 proving the rule, it cannot be
denied that amid the general scepticism, instancps
sonletillleS occur of particular persons and parties
,vho, on peculiar grounds, firmly believe in the occur..
rence of certain miracles even in our own times. But
we invariably find that this is only in connexion \víth
their o,vn particular tenets, and restricted to the com:

10S Stud!J of the Evz.dences qf Christianity.
munion to which they are attached. Such manifesta-
tions of course are believed to have a religious object,
and afford to the votaries a strong confirlnation of their
belief, or are regarded as among the high privileges
vouchsafed to an earnest faith. Yet even such persons,
almost as a matter of course, utterly discredit all
such ,,"onders alleged as occurring \vithin the pale of
any religion except their own; while those of other
communions as unhesitatingly reject the belief in
theirs.
To take a single instance, we Inay refer to the
alleged miraculous 'tongues' among the followers of
the late l\1:r. Irving some years ago. It is not, and
,vas not, a question of records or testÙJlon!!, or fallibi-
lity of witnesses, or exaggerated or fabulous narratives.
At the tÚuc, the matter was closely scrutinized and in-
quired into, and many perfectly unprejudiced, and
even sceptical persons, themselves witnessed the effects,
and \vere fully convinced, as, indeed, \vere most candid
inquirers at the time, that after all reasonable or
possible allo\vance for the influence of delusion or
imposture, beyond all question, certain e:r.traordinary
'JJlanijestations did occur. But just as little as the
lllere fact could be disputed, did any sober. minded
person, except those ilJllJlediately interested, or Ùljluenced
b!! peculiar views, for a mon1ent believe those effects to
be 1Jl i/raculo us. Even granting that they could not be
explained by any known form of nervous affection,
or on the like physiological grounds, still that they
,vere in some ,yay to be ascribed to natural causes, as
yet perhaps little understood, was what no one of
ordinarily cultivated mind, or dispassionate judgment,
ever doubted.
On such questions we can only hope to form just
and legitimate conclusions from an extended and un-
prejudiced study of the laws and phenomena of the
natural world. The entire range of the inductive
philosophy is at once based upon, and in every

Stud!! of the Evidences of Christianz[!/. ] 09
instance tends to confirm, by immense accumula-
tion of evidence, the grand truth of the uni versal
order and constancy of natural causes, as a prin1ary
la\v oft belief ; so strongly entertained and fixed in
the mind of every truly inductive inquirer, that he
can hardly even conceive the possibility of its failure.
Yet ,ve sOlnetimes hear language of a different kind.
There are still SOlne ,vho d\vell on the idea of Spinoza,
and contend that it is idle to object to miracles as
violations of natural la\vs, because ,ve kno\v not the
extent of nature; that all inexplicable phenomena
are, in fact, miracles, or at any rate lnysteries; that
we are surrounded by n1iracles in nature, and on all
sides encounter pheno1l1ena which baffle our attempts
at explanation, and liInit the po,vers of scientific in-
vestigation; phenomena ,vhose causes or nature we are
not, and probably never shall be, able to explain.
Such are the argun1ents of those ,vho have failed
to grasp tIle positive scientific idea of the po,ver of
the inductive philosophy, or the order of nature. The
boundaries of nature exist only ,vhere our present
kno\vledge places them; the discoveries of to-Inorrow
will alter and enlarge them. The inevitable progress
of research n1ust, ,vithin a longer or shorter period,
unravel all that seems most marvellous, and \vhat is
at present least understood ,vill become as familiarly
known to the science of the future, as those points
which a fe\v centuries ago were involved in equal
obscurity, but are no\v thoroughly understood.
None of these, or the like instances, are at all of
the saIne kind, or have any characteristics in common
with the idea of what is in1plied by the term' miracle,'
which is asserted to mean something at variance with
nature and la\v; there is not the slightest analogy
bet\veen an unkno\vn or inexplicable phenon1enon, and
a supposed suspension of a kno,vn la,v: even an ex-
ceptional case of a kno,vn la\v is included in some
larger la\v. Arbitrary interposition is '\vholly different

110 Stud!/ oj the Evidences of Christianity.
in kind; no argument fronl tIle one can apply to the
other.

rhe enlarged critical and inductive study of the
natural ,vorld, cannot but tend po,verfully to evince
the inconceivableness of imagjned interruptions of
natural order, or supposed suspensions of the la-\vs of
nIatter, and of that vast series of dependent causation
\vhich constitutes the legitinIate field for t.he investi-
gation of science, 'v hose constancy is the sole "Tarrant
for its generalizations, ,vhile it forms the sub
tantial
basis for the grand conclusions of natural theology.
Such ,vould be the grounds on ,vhich our convictions
,vould be regulated as to 1uarvellolls evel1 Is at the presell t
da!!; such the rules 'v hich ,ve should apply to the like
cases narrated in o'rdina'fY histo'r!!.
But though, perhaps, the more general admission
at the present day of cl
itical principles in the study of
history, as ,veIl as the extension of phJTsical kno,vledge,
has done something to diffuse alTIOng the better in-
fornled class more enlightened notions on this subject,
taken abstractedly, yet they may be still nluch at a
loss to apply such principles in all eases: and readily
conceive that there are possible instances in ,vhirh
large ea}ceptioJls 1UUSt óe lJlade.
The aboye remarks may be adlnitted in respect to
events at the present da!! and those narrated in ordinary
hi8Iol"Y; but it ,viII be said there may be, and there
are, cases "'Thich are not like those of the present tinIes
nor of ordinary history.
Thus if we attenlpt any uncomprolnising, rigid
scrut,iny of tIle Christian miracles, on the sanle grounds
on ,vhich we should investigate any ordinary narrative
of the supernatural or marvellous, ,ve are stopped by
the adnlonition not to nlake an irreverent and pro-
fane intrusion into ,yhat ought to be held sacred and
exempt from such unhallo,ved criticism of human
reason.
Yet tIle chanIpions of the 'Eyidences' of Chris-
tianity have professedly rested the discussion of the

Stud!} of the Evidences 0/ Ohristz.anit!/. 111
miracles of the New Testan1ent on the ground of
precise evidence of witnesses, insisting on the his-
torical character of the Gospel records, and urging the
in vesti aa tion of the truth of the facts on the strict
ö
principles of criticism, as theX ,vould be applied to any
other historical narrative. On these grounds, it would
seem impossible to exempt the miraculous parts of
those narratives, from such considerations as those
,vhich must be resorted to in regard to marvellous or
supposed supernatural events in general. Yet there
seems an un \yillingness to concede the propriety of
such examination, and a disposition to regard this as
altogether an ec1Jceptional case. But in proportion as
it is so regarded, it must be remembered its strictly
/Ûstorical character is forfeited, or at least tampered
with; and those ,vho would shield it from the criti-
cisms to which history and fact are necessarily ame-
nable, cannot in consistency be offended at the alter-
native involved, of a more or less mythical interpre-
tation.
In history generally our attention is often called to
narratives of the nlarvellous: and there is a sense in
which they may be viewed ,vith reference to its genp,ral
purport and in connexion ,vith those influences on
human nature which play so conspicuous a part in
many events. Thus it has been ,veIl remarked by
Dean 1\Iilman-' History to be true 111ust condesèend
to speak the language of legend; the belief of the
times is part of the record of the times; and though
there n1ay occur what may baffle its more calm and
searching philosophy, it must not disdain that which
,vas the primal, ahnost universal motive of hunlan life.' 1
Yet in a more general point of view, when we con-
sider the strict office of the critical historian, it is
obvious that
uch cases are fair subjects of analysis,
conducted wIth the vie,v of ascertaining their real
relation to nature and fact.

1 Latin Christianit!j, vol. i. p. 3 88 .

112 Study of the Evidenc.e8 of Chri8tian 1 ity.
From the general maxim that all history is open to
criticism as to its grounds of evidence, no professed
hi8tory can be exempt without forfeiting its historical
character; and in its contents, what is properly
historical, is, on the same grounds, fairly to be dis-
tinguished fronl what may appear to be introduced
on other authority and with other objects. Thus, the
general credit of an historical narrative does not exclude
the distinct scrutiny into any statements of a super-
natural kind which it may contain; nor supersede the
careful estilnation of the value of the testinlony on
which they rest-the directness of its transmission from
eye-witnesses, as well as the possibility of misconcep-
tion of its tenor, or of our not being in possession of
all tIle circumstances 011 which a correct judgment can
be formed.
It nlust, ho\vever, be confessed that the propriety
of such dispassionate examination is too little appre-
ciated:! or the fairness of ,veighing ,veIl the impro-
babilities on one side, against possible openings to
misapprehension on the other.
The nature of the laws of all human belief, and the
broader grounds of probability and credibility of events,
have been too little investigated, and the great extent
to which aU testimony nlust be modified by antecedent
credibility as deterrnined by such general la,vs, too little
commonly understood to be readily applied or allowed.
Formerly (as before observed) there was no question
as to general credibility. But in later tilnes the
most orthodox seern to assume that interposition
would be generally ineredible; yet endeavour to lay
down rules aud criteria by ,vhich it may be rendered
probable, in cases of great emergency. }'1:iracles were
formerly the rule, latterly the eæception.
The arguments of l\fiddletoll and others, all assume
the antecedent incredibility of n1iracles in general, in
order to draw Inore precisely the distinction that in
certain cases of a very special nature that improbability

Stud!! of the Evidences of Oft ristiallity. 113
may be removed, as in the case of authenti
at
ng a
revelation. Locke 1 expressly contends that It IS the
very extraordinary nature of such an emergency which
renders an extraordinary interposition requisite and
therefore credible.
The belief in Divine interposition must be essentially
dependent on ,vhat we previously admit or believe ,vith
respect to the Divine attributes.
It ,vas formerly argued that every Theist must
admit the credibility of miracles; but this, it is no\v
seen, depends on the nature and degree of his Theism,
,vhich lllay vary through many shades of opinion.
It depends, in fact, on the precise vie,v taken of the
Divine attributes; such, of course, as is attainable
prior to our adn)i
sion of revelation, or we fall into an
argument in a vicious circle. The older "'Titers on
natural theology, indeed, have professed to deduce
very exact conclusions as to the Divine perfections,
especially OJJlJll}Jotence; conclusions which, according
to the physical argunlent already referred to, appear
carried beyond those limits to ,y hich reason or science
are cOlupetent to lead us; 'v hile, in fact, all our higher
and more precise ideas of the Divine perfections are
really derived froin that very revelation, ,vhose evidence
is the point in question. 'fhe Divine Omnipotence is
entirely an inference from the language oj the Bible,
adopted on the assumption of a belief in revelation.
That ',
yith God nothing is inlPossible,' is the very
declaratIon of Scripture; yet on this, the \vhole belief
in .n1Ìr
cles is built, and thus, with the n1any, that
behef IS ,vholly the result, not the aJltecedent of faith.
llut ,vere these vie,vs of the Diyine attributes on
,
the other hand, ever so \vell established, it must be
cons
dere
that the Theistic argU111ent requires to be
applied \Vlth much caution; since most of those, ,vho
have adopted such theories of the Divine perfections,

1 Essay, nook i. ch. xvi.
13.
I

114 Study of the Evidences of Christianit!/.
on abstract grounds, have made them the basis of a
precisely opposite belief, rejecting miracles altogether;
on the plea, that our ideas of the Divine perfections
must directly discredit the notion of occasional inter-
position; that it is derogatory to the idea of Infinite
power and wisdolTI, to suppose an order of things so
imperfectly est,ablished that it n1ust be ocea
ion.ally
interrupted and violated 'v hen the necessity of the
case con1pelled, as the emergency of a revelation was
imagined to do. But all such
rheistic reasonings are
but one-sided, and if pushed further must lead to a
denial of all active operation of the Deity ,vhatever ;
as inconsistent ,vitlt unchangeable, infinite perfection. l
Such are the arguments of1
heodore Parker,2 ,vho denies
JniracleR becalÜ1e 'every\vhere I find la\v the constant
lllode of operation. of an infinite God,' or that of Weg..
scheider, 3 that the belief in 111iracles is irreconcilable
,vith the idea of an eternal God COJlsistent zoith hÙuse!j, &c.
Paley's grand resource is ' once believe in a God, and
all is easy.' Now, no n1en have evinced a more deep-
seated and devout belief in the Divine perfections than
the "rriters just named, or others differing from them by
various shades of opinion, as the late J. Sterling, ]\tIr.
Enlerson, and Professor F. 'V. Ne,vman. Yet these
,vriters have agreed in the inference that the entire vie,v
of Theistic principles, in their highest spiritual purity,
is utterly at variance "\vith all conception of suspensions
of the la,vs of nature, or \vith the idea of any kind of
external manifestation addressed to the senses, as over-
ruling the higher, and as they conceive, sole worthy and
fitting convictions of moral sense and religious intuition.
vVe here speak inlpartiallyand disinterestedly, since
'\ve are far fron1 agrpeing in their reasonings, or even

S
e
lansel, Bampt. Led. p. 185.
1ïle'lSrn, &c. p. 263, compo p. IIJ.
:1 Persuasio de supernaturali et miraculosa eadem que immediata Dei
re\relatione, haud bene conciliari videtur cum idea Dei æterl1i, semper

iLi constalltis, &c.' - Wegscheider, Instil. Tlleol.
12.

Study of the Evidences 0/ Christianity. 115
their first principles. But ,ve think it deeply inculll-
bent on all \vho \vouid Ütirly reason out the case of
n1iraculous evidence at the present day, to give a full
and patient discussion to this entire class of argun1ents
\vhich no\v cOffilnand so Inany adherents.
In advancing fron1 the argun1ent for miracles to the

n aument froJJl miracles; it should, in the first instance,
beD considered that the evidential force of miracles (to
,vhatever it may amount) is \vholly relative to the
apprehensions of the parties addressed.
Thus, in an 'evidential' point of vie\v, it by no
means follo\vs, supposing \ve at this day ,vere able
to explain \vhat in an ignorant age ,vas regarded as
a n1iracle, that therefore that event ,vas not equally
evidential to those in1111ediately addressed. Colulubus's
prediction of the eclipse to the native islanders ,vas
as true an argulnent to theul as if the event had really
been supernatural.
It is a eonsideration adopted by some en1inent di-
vines that in the very language of the Gospels the
distinction is al\vays kept up bet\veen 111ere '\yonders'
(rlparu) and' miracles' or 'signs' ((HI}lElU); that is to
say, the latter ,vere occurrences not vie\ved as luere
n1atters of ,vondpr or astonishlnent, but regarded as
indications of other truths, specially adapted to con-
vince those to \v hOlll they \vere addre
:sed in their
existing stage of enlightenment.
Archbishop ,,;rhately, besides d\yelling on this dis-
tinction, argues t,
at 'the apostles ,vould not only
not have been beheved but not even listelled to if
,
they had not first 'roused Illell'15 at/elltion by \vorking,
as ,ve are told they did, special (remarkable) Iniracles.' 1
(Acts xix. II.)
SOIne have gone further, and have considered the

pplication ?f ll1iracles as little Inure than is expressed
In the anCIent proverb, 'Bavfturu flwpou;;' -\vhich is

1 Lessons on Evidences, vii.
5.
1 .)
.w

11 ß Stud!! of the Evidences of Christianity.
supposed to be nearly equivalent to the rebuke, 'an
evil generation seeketh a sign, &C.'1 (Matt. xii. 38.)
Schleiermacherregards the miracles as only relatively
or apparently such, to the apprehensions of the age.
By the Jews we know such manifestations, especially
the po,ver of ll.ealing, ,vere held to cOIJstitute the dis..
tinctive nlarks of the l\fessiah, according to the pro-
phecies of their Scriptures. Signs of an improper or
irrelevant kind were refused, and even those which
were granted were not necessarily nor universally con..
clusive. 'VitIl some they ,vere so, but ,vitll the many
the case ,vas different. The Pharisees set down the
miracles of Christ to the power of evil spirits; and
in other cases no conviction 2 was produced, not even
on the apostles. 3 Even Nicoden1us, not\vithstanding
his logical reasoning, was but half convinced. While
Jesus hinlself, especially to his disciples in private, re..
felTed to his ,vorks as only secondary and subsidiary
to the higher evidence of his character and doctrine,4
which was so conspicuous and convincing even to his
enemies as to draw fortll the adlnission, 'Never nlan
spake like this nlan.'
'l-'he later Jews adopted the strange legend of the
'SejJher l'oldeth J T ehSlt' (Book of the Generation of
Jesus), ,vhich describes his miracles substantially as
in the Gospels, but says that he obtained his po\ver
by hiding hin1self in the Temple, and possessing hiln..
self of the secret ineffable name, by virtue of which
such wonders could be wrought. 5

1 Letter and Spirit, by Rev. J. WiIson J 1852, p. 2I.
2 As, e. g., John xi. 46; vi. 2-30; l\Iatt. xii. 39.
3 l\Iatt. xvi. 9; Luke xxiv. 21- 2 5. " John xiv. I I.
i) Orobio, a Jewish writer, quoted by Limborch (De Verit. p. 12-156),
observes :-' Non crediderunt Juùæi non quia opera illa quæ in Evangelio,
narrantur a J esu facta esse negabant; sed quia iis se per5uaderi non sunt
pa:ssi ut Jesum crederent l\Iessiam.' Cehms ascribed the Christian mira-
des to magic (Origen cord. Gels. i. 38; ii. 9.) as Julian did those of
St. Paul to superior knowledge of nature. (Ap. Gyr. iii. 100.) The
general charge of nlagic is noticed by Tertullian, Ap. 23. See also Dean
LJall, Propædia Prophetica, 439. Neander, Hist. i. 67.

Study of the Evidences of Christianity. 117
All moral evidence must essentially have respect to
the parties to be convinced. ' Signs' Inight be adapted
peculiarly to the state of moral or intellectual progress
of one a rye, or one class of persons, and not be suited
to that ;f others. 'Vith the cotemporaries of Christ
and the Apostles, it ,vas not a question of test.in10n y or
credibility; it \vas not the 11lere occurrence of ,vhat
they all regarded as a supernatural event, as such, but
the particular character to be assigned to it, 'v hich ,vas
the point in question. And it is to the entire dif-
ference in the ideas, prepossession, modes, and grounds
of belief in those tinles that we may trace the reason
,vhy miracles, ,vhich would be incredible now, ,vere
not so in the age and under the circunlstances in
\vhich they are stated to have occurred.
1'he force and function of all moral evidence is
nullified and destroyed if we seek to apply that Æind
of argument ,vhich does not find a response in the
previous view.s or impressions of the individual ad-
dressed; all evidential reasoning is essentially an
adaptation to the conditions of n1ind and thought of
the parties addressed, or it fails in its object. Au
evidential appeal \vhich in a long past age ,vas con-
vincing as nlade to the state of kno,vledge in that
age, might have not only no effect, but even an in-
jurious tendency, ifm
ged in the present, and referring
to what is at variance \vith existing scientific concep-
tions ; just as the arguments of the present age ,vould
have been unintelligible to a fornler.
In his earlier view.s of miracles Dr. J. H. Newlnan 1
maintained (agreeing therein ,vith Paulus and Rosen-
müller,) that lnost of the Christian miracles could
only be evidential at the tÙlle they were ,vrought, and
are not so at present, a vie\v in which a religious
writer of a very different school, Athanase Coquerel,2

1 Essay on ...lfiracles,&c. p. 10 7.
: Christianit!h &c. Davi;son's transL 1847, p. 226.

11 S Study of the Evidences of Christianity.
seems to concur, alleging tl1at they can avail only in
founding a faith-not in preserving it.
FJ..'his was also the argument of several of the
Reformers, as Luther, Huss, and others! have reason-
ably contemplated the llliracles as a part of the
peculiarities of the first out,vard manifestation and
development of Christianity; like all other portions
of the Divine dispensations specially adapted to the age
and the condition of those to whom they ,vere imnle..
diately addressed: but restricted apparently to those
ages, and at any rate, not in the san1e form continued
to subsequent times, \Vllen the application of them
would be inappropriate.
The force of the appeal to miracles must ever be es-
sentially dependent on the preconceptions of the parties
addressed. Yet even in an age, or among a people,
entertaining an indiscriminate belief in the super-
natural, the allegation of particular nliracles as evi-
dential nlay be altogether vain; the very extent of
their belief nlay render it ineffective in furnishing
proofs to authenticate the conlmunications of any
teacher as a Divine message. The constant belief in
the miraculous may neutralize all evidential distinc-
tions ,vhich it may be attempted to deduce. Of this
\ve have a striking instance on rpcord, in the labours
of the missionary, Henry
iartyn, among the Persian
l\Iahonletans. rrhey believed readily all that he told
them of the Scripture miracles, but directly paralleled
them by \vonders of their own; they were proof
against any argument fÌ"om the resurrection, because
tlley held that their O"\vn Sheiks had the power of
raising the dead.
It is also stated that the later J e,vish Rabbis, on
the same plea that miracles were believed to be
wrought by so nlany teachers, of the most different
doctrines, denied their evidential force altogether. 2

1 See Seckendorf's Rist. Lutnep., iii. 633.
! For some instances of thi
class of objections, see Dean Lyall's Pro-
pædia Prophetica, p. 437 et seq.

Stud!! of the Evidences of C'hristianity. 11 9
By those ,vho take a nlore enlarged survey of the
subject, it cannot fail to be remarked ho\v different has
been the spirit in ,vhich miracles \vere contelnplated
as they are exhibited to us in the earlier stages of
ecclesiastical literature, froln that in \vhich they have
been regarded in Inodern times; and this especially
in respect to that particular vie\v ,vhich has so in-
tÏ111at.el y connected thenl \vith precise ' evidential
argulllents ;' and by a school of ,vriters, of \VhOnl
Paley may be taken as the type, and \vho regard
theln as the sole external proof and certificate of a
Divine revelation.
But at the present day this 'evidential' vie,v of
miracles as the sole or even the principal external
attestation to the clainls of a Divine revelation, is a
species of reasoning \vhich appears to have lost ground
even alnong the most earnest advocates of Christi-
anity. It is no\v generally adnlitted that Paley took
too exclusive a vie\v in asserting that \ve cannot con-
ceive a revelation substantiated in any other ,yay.
And it has been even 1110re directly asserted by some
zealous supporters of Christian doctrine that the
external evidences are altogether inappropriate and
,,-orthless.
Thus by a school of \vriters of the most highly
orthodox pretensions, it is elaborately argued, to the
effect, that revelation ought to be believed though
destitute of strict evidence, either int,ernal or external;
and though \ve neither see it nor kno\v it.! And again,
, 'V e mu
t be as sure that t.he bishop is Christ's
appointed representative, as if \ve actually sa\v hinl
,vork 111iracles as St. Peter and St. Paul did.'2 An-
other ,vriter of the sallIe school exclaims, 'As if
evidence to the 'V ord of God \vere a thing to be tolerated
by a Chri
tian; except as an additional condemnation
for those \vho reject it, or as a sort of exercise and in-

1 See Tractsfor tile Times, No. lxxxv. pp. 85-100.
2 Tract No. x. p. 4.

120 Stud!! of the Evidellces of Christianit!l.
dulgence for a Christian understanding.'1 Thus ,vhile
the highest section of Anglican orthodoxy does not
hesitate openly to disavo,v the old evidential argu-
ment; referring everything to the authority of the
Church, the more moderate virtually discredit it by
a general tone of vacillation bet,veen the antagonistic
claims of rea
on and faith ;-intuition and evidence ;-
while the extrenle 'evangelical' school, strongly assert-
ing the literal truth of the Bible, seeks its evidence
\vholly in spiritual illlpressions, regarding all exercise
of the reason as partaking in the nature of sin. But
even anlong less prejudiced thinkers, we find indica-
tions of similar views;2 thus a very able critic writing
in eæpres8 dEfence of the Christian cause, speaks of
'that accumulation of historical testiJnonies,' '\vhich
the last age erroneously denominated the evidences of
Christianity.' And the poet Coleridge, than whonl
no \vriter has been more earnest in upholding and
defending Christianity, even in its most orthodox
forn1, in speaking of its external attestations, im-
patiently exclaims, 'Evidences of Christianity! I am
\veary of the word: make a nlan feel the want of it
. . . and you nlay safely trust it to its o\vn evidence..'3
But still further: Paley's \vell-kno\vn conclusion to
the 5th book of his .JIoral Philo8oph!/, pronounced by
Dr. Parr to be the finest prose passage in English
literature, more especially his final sunlnling up of
the evidential argulnent in the \vords, 'He alone dis-
covers ,vho proves: and no nlan can prove this point
(a future retribution), but the teacher \vho testifies by
n1iracles that his doctrine comes frol11 God,' -calls forth
from Coleridge an emphatic protest against the entire
principle, as being at variance with that moral election
\vhich he ,vouid make the essential basis of religious

1 Bl.itislz Critic, No. xlviii. p. 3 0 4.
: Edin. Rev. No. cxli.
3 .Aids to Reflexion, i. p. 333.

Stud!} of the Evidences of Christialtity. 121
belief; 1 to \vhich he adds, in another place, 'The
cordial admiration \vith \vhich I peruse the pre-
ceding passage as a masterpiece of composition
would, could I convey it, serve as a measure of the
vital jJuportance I attach to the conviction
which
ÏInpelled me to aninladvert on the same passage as
doctrine. '2
Some of the most strenuous assertors of miracles
have been forernost to disclaim the notion of their
being the sole cerl?ficate of Divine comlnunication, and
have maintained that the true force of the Christian
evidences lies in the uniOlt and cO}}lbination of the
e(vternal testimony of luiracles, \vith the internal ex-
cellence of the doctrine; thus, in fact, practically
making the latter the real test of the adnzissibility of the
fo rJJzer .
The necessity for such a cOlnbination of the evi-
c13nce of miracles with the test of the doctrine in-
culcated is ackno\vledged in the Bible, both under
the old and the new dispensations. ,Ve read of false
prophets \vho might predict signs and \vonders, \vhich
might come to pass; but this \vas to be of no avail
if they led their hearers 'after other gods.' 3
In like manner, 'if an angel from heaven' preached
any other gospel to the Galatians, they \vere to reject
it. 4 And even according to Christ's o\vn adnlonitions,
jet!se Christs and false prophets should sho\v signs and
\vonders such as nlight 'deceive, if possible, the very
elect.' 5
According to this vie\v, the main ground of the
adlnissibility of external attestations is the \vorthiness
of their object-the doctrine; its un\vorthiness will
discredit even the nlost distinctly alleged apparent mi-
racles, and such \vorthiness or un \vorthiness appeals
solely to our III oral judgn1ent.

1 .Aids to Rejlexion, p. 278.
3 Deut. xiii. I. 4 Gal. i. 8,

2 Ib. p. 33 8 .
ó Matt. xxiv. 24.

l

...,....,

Study of the Evidences of Christianity.

No man has d\velt more forcibly on miraculous
evidence than Archbishop 'Vhately; yet in relation
to the character of Christ as conspiring \vith the ex-
ternal attestations of his mission, he strongly remarks
(speaking of some who ,vould ascribe to Christ an
un\vorthy doctrine, an equivocal mode of teaching),
, If I could believe Jesus to have been guilty of such
subterfuges I not only could not
ackno,vledge him as sent from God, but should reject
him with the deepes moral indignation.' 1
Dean Lyall enters largely -into this Ìlnportant qua-
lification in his defence of the miraculous argunlent,
applying it in the most unreserved Inanner to the
ecclesiastical miracles,2 ,vhich he rejects at once as
having no connexion "vith doctrine. We have also
on record the remark of Dr. Johnson :-' 'Vhy, sir,
Hume, t,aking the proposition sinlply, is fight; but
the Christian revelation is not proved by miracles
alone, but as connected ,vith prophecies and \vith
the doctrines in confirmation of \v hich miracles ,vere
wrought.'3
This has, indeed, been the COlllmon argument of
the most approved divines: it is that long ago urged
by Dr. S. Clarke,4 and recently supported by Dean
Trench. 5 Yet ,vhat is it but to acknowledge the
right of an appeal, superior to that of all miracles,
to our own moral tribunal, to the principle that
'the human mind is competent to sit in moral and
spiritual tribunal on a professed revelation,' in vir-
tue of which Professor F. Ne\vrnan, as well as many
other inquirers, have come to so very opposite a con-
clusion.
Again, it has been strongly urged by the last-

I I{ingdom of Ghrist, E
say i. 9 12.
2 Propædia Propnetira, p. 441.
3 Boswell"s Life, iii. 169. Ed. 1826.
4 Evidences qf Natural and Revealed Religion, 9 xiv.
Ii Notes on .i.lIiracles, p. 27.

Study if the Evidences of Christianity. 123
nan1ed writer, if miracles are made the sole criterion,
then amid the various difficulties attending the scru-
tiny of evidence, and the detection of imp
sture, an
advantage is clearly given to the shre\vd sceptic over
the sin1ple-mindpd and well-disposed disciple, utterly
fatal to the purity of faith.!

rhe vie\v of miraculous evidence ,vhich allows it to
be taken only in connexion \vith, and in fact in sub-
serviency to, the moral and internal proof deriyed from
the character of the doctrine, has been pushed to a
greater extent by the \vriter last named; who asks,
"\Vhat is the value of 'fait,h at second hand ?'-Ought
any external testimony to overrule internal conviction?
Ought any 1Jloral truth to be received in lnere obedience
to a miraele of sense? 2 and observes that a miracle can
only address itself to our external senses, and that
internal and 17loral inipressionslllust be deemed of a kind
paramount to external and sensible.
If it be alleged that this internal sense Inay be
delusive, not less so, it is replied, may the external
senses deceive us as to the ,vorld of sense and external
evidence. The saIne author however expressly allo\vs
that the claims of 'the historical' and 'the spiritual,' the
proofs addressed to 'reason' and to the 'internal sense,'
may each be properly entertained in their respective pro-
vinces-the danger lies in confounding them or mis-
taking the one for the other.
Even in the estin1ation of external evidence, every-
thing depends on our preliJllÍJlar!l moral convictions,
and upon deciding in the first instance \vhether, on
the one hand, we are 'to abandon moral conviction at
the bidding of a n1iracle,' or, on the other, to make
conforlnity with moral principles the sole test both of
the evidences and of the doctrines of revelation.
In point of fact, he contends that the main actual

Ree Phases of Faith, p. 11>4.
Ib. pp.82, 108, 201, 1st Eù.

124 Stud!! of the Evidence8 of Chri8tianity.
appeal of the Apostles, especially of St. Paul, was not
to outward testimony or logical argument, but to
spiritual assurances :-thateven 'v hen St. Paul does
nter
on a sort of evidential discussion, his reasoning is very
unlike ,vhat a Paley would have exacted :-that all
real evidence is of the spirit-which alone can judge
of spiritual things; that the Apostles did not go about
proclainling an 'infallible book, but the convert was to
be convinced by his .own internal judgment, not called
on to resign it to a systematized and dogmatic creed.
And altogether the reasoning of the Apostles C,vher-
ever they enter upon the departlnent of reasoning),
,vas not according to our logic, but only in accordance
with the knowledge and philosophy of the age.
Thus in this fundaulental assu111ption of internal
evidence, some of the most orthodox ,vriters are in
fact in close agreement with those nominally of a very
opposite school.
It ,vas the argument of Däderlein, that' the truth
of the doctrine does not depend on the miracles, but
,ve 111ust .first be convinced of the doctrine by its
internal evidence.'
De \Vette and others of the rationalists expressly
contend, that the real evidence of the divinity of any
doctrine can only be its accordance \vith the dictations
of this moral sense, and this, vVegscheider further
insists, ,vas in fact the actual appeal of Christ in his
teaching. I
In a ,,yoI'd, on this view, it ,vould follow that all
external attestation \vould seem superfluous if it
concur \vith, or to be rejected if it oppose, these moral

1 Jesus ipse doctrinam quam tradidit divinam esse professu8 est, quantum
divina ejus in doles ab homine vere religioso proboque bene cognosci potest
atque dijudicari.-Wegsc.heider, in Joh. vii. 17.
Nulla alia ratio et via eas [doctrinasJ examinandi datur quam ut illarum
placita cum iis quæ via naturali rectæ rationis de Deo ejusque voluntate ipsi
innotuerint diligellter componat et ad normam sine omlli superstitione ex.
awinet.-Wegscheider, IJlstit. Theol. Chris. Dogm.,
1 I, p. 38.

Study of the Evidences of Christianity. 125
convictions. 1 Thus a considerable school have been
disposed to look to the intrinsic evidence onl!/, and to
accept the declarations of the Gospelsolelg on tþe ground
of their intrinsic excellence and accord(,lIlce with our
best and highest moral and religious convictions; a
vie\v \vhich \vould approach very nearly to rejecting
its peculiarities altogether.
Thus considerations of a very different nature are now
introduced from those forn1erly entertained; and of a
kind \vhich affect the entire printary conception of' a reve-
lation' and its authority, and not merely any alleged
external attestations of its truth. Thus any discussion
of the 'evidences' at the present day, must have a
reference equally to the influence of the various systems
whether of ancient precedent or of modern illumination,
which so \videly and po\verfully affect the state of
opinion or belief.
In \v hatever light we regard the 'evidences' of
religion, to be of any effect, \vhether external or inter-
nal, they must al \vays have a special reference to the
peculiar capacifg and apprehension qf the partg addressed.
Points which may be seen to involve the greatest
difficulty to more profound inquirers, are often sueh
as do not occasion the least perplexity to ordinary
111inds, but are allo\ved to pass \vithout hesitation.
To then1 all difficulties are smoothed do\vn,all objections
(if for a llloment raised) are at once ans\vered by a few
plausible C01TIIllOnpIace generalities, \vhich to their
minds are invested \vith the force ofaxiolnatic truths,
and to question which they \vould regard as at once
idle and impious.
On the other hand, exceptions held forth as fatal
by the shallo\v caviller are seen by the Il10re deeply
reflect.ing in all their actual littleness and fallacy. But
for the sake of all parties, at the present day, especially

1 Such was the argument of the Characteristics, vol. ii. p. 334.
Ed. 1727.

126 Stud!! of the Evidences of ChristiaJlill/.
tl10se ,vho at least profess a disposition for pursuing
the serious discussion of such monlentous subjects, it
becomes in1peratively necessary, that SUCll vie\vs of it
should be suggested as may be really suitable to
better inforn1ed minds, and may meet the increasing
demands of an age pretending at least to greater en-
lightenment.
Those who have reflected most deeply on the nature
of the argument froll1 external evidence, will admit
that it \vonld naturally possess very different degrees
of force as addressed to different ages; and in a pe-
riod of advanced physical kno\vledge the reference to
what was believed in past tin1es, if at variance with
principles no\v acknowledged, could afford little ground
of appeal: in fact, \yould dan1age the argulllent rather
than assist it.
Even 80111e of the older ,vriters assign a much lo\ver
place to the evidence 0/ 'tìliracles, contrasting it with
the c011viction of 'real faith, as being nlerely a pre-
paratory step to it. Thus, an old divine observes :-
'Adducuntur prin1um l'atione exteri ad fidenl,
et quasi præparantur; signis
ergo et miraculis via fidei per sensus et rationem
sternitur.' 1
And here it should be especially noticed, as charac-
teristic of the ideas of his age, that this \vriter classes
the sensible evidence of miracles along ,vitl1 the con-
victions of treason, the very opposite to the yie\v \v hich
""vould now be adopted, indicative of the difference in
physical cOllceptio11s, which connects n1iracles rather
with faith as they are seen to be inconceivable to
reason.
These prevalent tende
cies in the opinions of the
age cannot but be regarded as connected \vith the in-
creasing admission of those broader vie\vs of physical
truth and universal order in nature, \v hich have been

1 :1\1elchior Canus, Loci Tlteol. ix. 6. about 1540.

Stud!/ of the Evidences of C'hristiaJlit!/. 127
follo\ved out to higher contemplations, and point to
the ackno\vledgment of an overruling and all-pervad-
ing suprelne intelligence.
In ad \Tancing beyond these conclusions to the doc-
trines of revelation, \ve must recognise both the due
clainls of science to decide on points properly belong-
ing to the \vorld of 1uatler, and the independence of
such considerations ,vhich characterizes the disclosure
of spiTitual truth, as such.
All rea
on and science conspire to the confession
that beyond the dOlnain of physical causation and the
possible conceptions of intellect or knowledge, there lies
open the boundless region of spiritual things, \vhich is
the sole dominion of faith. And \vhile intellect and
philosophy are compelled to diso,vn the recognition
of anything in the \vorld of nlatter at variance ,vith
the first principle of the la\vs of matter-the universal
order and indissoluble unity of physical causes-they
are the more ready to adulit the higher claims of
divine nlysteries in the invisible and spiritual \vorld.
Advancing kno\vledge, \",hile it asserts the dominion
of science in physical things, confirms that of faith in
spiritual; ,ve thus neither inlpugn the generalizations
of philosophy, nor allo\v theln to invade the dOlllinion
of faith, and adillit that \vhat is not a subject for a
problem nlay hold its place in a creed.
In an evidential point of vie\v it has been admitted
by some of the nlost candid divines that the appeal
to miracles, ho,vever inlportant in the early stages of
the Gospel, haB becolne less materia] in later tinles,
and others have even expressly pointed to this as
the reason \vhy they have been \vithdra,Vll; ,vhilst at
the present day the rnost earnest advocates of evan-
gelical faith admit that out\vard marvels are needless
to spiritual conviction, and triul1lph in the greater
moral miracle of a con v.erted and regenerate soul.
They echo the declaration of St. Chrysostonl-
, If :you are a believer as you ought to be, and love

128 Stud!! of the Et"idences of Christianity"
Christ as you ought to love him, you have no need
of miracles, for these are given to unbelievers.' 1
After all, the evidential argunlent has but little
actual weight ,vith the generality of believers. The
high moral convictions often referred to for internal
evidence are, to say the least, probably really felt by
very fe,v, and the appeal n1ade to llliracles as pl"Oo/8
of revelation by still fe,ver; a totally different feeling
actuates the nlany, and the spirit of faith is ackno,v-
ledged ,vhere there is little disposition to reason at all,
or where nloral and philosophical considerations are
absolutely rejected on the highest religious grounds,
and everything referred to the sovereign power of
divine grace.
Matters of clear and positive fact, investigated on
critical grounds and supported by exact evidence, are
properly nlatters of kno\vledge, not of faith. It is
rather in points of less definite character that any
exercise of faith can take place; it is rather with
lllatters of religious belief belonging to a higher and
less conceivable class of truths, ,vith the nlysterious
things of the unseen ,vorld, that faith o,vns a con-
nexion, and more readily associates itself ,vith spiritual
ideas, than ,vith external evidence, or physical events:
and it is generally admitted that many points of impor-
tantreligious instruction, even conveyed under the form
of fictions (as in the instances of doctrines inculcatrd
through parables) are more congenial to the spirit of
faith than any relations of historical events could be.
The more knowledge advances, the nlore it has
been, and ,vill be, ackno,vledged that Christianity, as
a real religion, nlust be viewed apart frolll connexion
,vith physical things.

1
" "i'

"'/' À " \ x , (,#,.,,.
. . . H yap 'TrLUTOS EL Cl>S' ELVaL XP'J KaL 't'L ELS' TOV
PLUTOV Cù!' 'Yt^ELV
ò
î, ov XPEíav fXfL
T6>V UT}J..LEí.CI>V. TaVTa yàp ;L'TríUTOL

É
oTaL.-Hom. xxiii.
in Joltan. To the same effect also S. Isidore, 'Tunc oportebat mundum
miraculis credere,-nunc vero credentem oportet bonis operibus coruscare,'
cited in H U
8 in defence of 'Vickliff.

Study of the Evidences of Christianit!J. J 29
The first dissociation of the spiritual froln the
physical was rendered necessary by the palpable con-
tradictions disclosed by astronomical discovery with
the letter of Scripture. Another still wider and more
n1aterial step has been effected by the discoveries
of geology. 1\10re recently the antiquity of the
hun1an race, and the development of species, and the
rejection of the idea of 'creation,' have caused ne 'v
advances in the same direction.
In all these cases there is, indeed, a direct dis-
crepancy between what had been taken for revealed
truth and certain undeniable existing monuments to
the contrary.
But these monuments were interpreted by science
and reason, and there are other deductions of science
and reason referring to alleged events, ,vhich, though
they have left no monuments or perlnanent effects
behind them, are not the less legitinlately subject to
the conclusions of positive science, and require a
silnilar concession and recognition of the same prin-
ciple of the independence of spiritual and of physical
truth.
Thus far our observations are general: but at the
present nloment some recent publications on the sub-
ject seem to call for a few more detailed remarks. vVe
have before observed that the style and character of
works on 'the evidences,' has of necessity varied in
different ages. Those of Leslie and Grotius have, by
conlmon consent, been long since superseded by that of
Paley. Paley ,vas long the text-book at Cambridge;
his work was never so extensively popular at Oxford-
it has, of late, been entirely disused there. By the
public at large ho\vever once accepted, "'"e do not
hesitate to express our belief, that before another
quarter of a century has elapsed it ,vill be laid on the
shelf with its predecessors; not that it is a \vork des-
titute of high merit-as is pre-eminently true also of
those it superseded, and of others again anterior to
K

130 Stud!! of the Evidences of Christianit!/_
them; but they have all followed the irreversible des-
tiny that a ,,"'ork, suited to convince the public mind
at anyone particular period, must be acconlmodated to
the actual condition of kno,vledge, of opinion, and
1110de of thought of that period. It is not a question
of abstract eæcellence, but of J-elative adaptation.
Paley caught the prevalent tone of thought in his
day. Public opinion has no\v taken a different turn;
and, what is more important, the style and class of
difficulties and objections honestly felt has become
,vholly different. N e,v modes of speculation-ne,v
forms of scepticisrn-have invaded the donlain of
that settled belief 1vhicl1 a past age had been ac-
customed to rest on the Paleyan syllogism. Yet,
among several ,yorks ,vhich have of late appeared
on the subject, 1ve recognise fe\v which at all meet
these requirements of existing opinion. Of some of the
chief of these ,yorks, even appearing under the sanction
of elninent names, '\ve are constrained to remark that
they are altogether behind the age; that anlid nluch
learned and acute renlark on matters of detail, those
n1aterial points on 1yhich the nlodern difficulties chiefly
turn, as ,veIl as the theories advanced to meet them,
are, for the most part, not only ignored and passed
over without exanlination or notice, but the entire
school of those \vriters ,vho, ,vith infinitely varied
shades of vie,v, have d,velt upon these topics and put
forth their attenlpts, feeble or po,verful as the case
may be-to solve the difficulties-to improye the tone
of discussion, to reconcile the difficulties of reason
\vith the high aspirations and dell1ands of faith-are
all indiscriminately confounded in one common cate-
gory of censure; their vie1vs disrnissed with ridicule
as sopllistical and fallacious, abused as infinitely dan-
gerous, themselves dènounced as heretics and infidels,
and libelled as scoffers and atheists.
In truth, the nlajority of these champions of the
evidential logic betray an almost entire unconscious-

Stud!! of the I!}vidences oj. Ch1.istiaJlify. 131
ness of the advance of opinion around thenl. flav-
ing their o,vn ideas long since cast in the stereotyped
1110uld of the past, they seem to expect that a pro-
gressing age ought st
ll to adhere to the sanle type,
and bo,v inlplicitly to a solen1n and ponlpous, but
childish parade and reiteration, of the one-sided dog-
n1as of an obsolete school, coupled ",.ith a,,"ful denun-
ciations of heterodoxy on all ,vho refuse to listen to
them..
Paley clearly, as some of his modern comn1en-
tators do avowedly, occupied the position of an advocate,
not of a judge. They professedly stand up on one side,
and challenge the counsel on the other to reply.
Their object is not truth, but their client's case.
The whole argument is one of special pleading;
we n1ay admire the ingenuity, and confess the
adroitness ,vith ,vhich favourable points are seized,
unfayourable ones dropped, evaded, or disguised; but
we do not find ourselves tbe nlore iU1pressed ,vith those
high and sacred convictions of truth, which ought to
result rather froin the ,vary, careful, dispassionate
sun1ming-up on both sides, ,vhich is the function of
the impartial and inflexible judge.
The one topic constantly insisted on as essential to
the grounds of belief, considered as based on out\vard
historical evidence, is that of the credibility 0/ eæternal
facts as supported by festÙuony. This has al \vays formed
the most Inat.erial point in the reasonings of the
evidential ,vriters of forn1er times, ho,vever in1perfectly
and unsatisfactorily to existing ll10des of thought they
treated it. And to this point, their more recent fol-
lo,vers have still almost as exclusively directed their
attention.
In the representations ,vhich they constantly n1ake,
,ve cannot but notice a- strong apparent tendency and
desire to uphold the mere assertion of 'witnesses as the
811prellle evidence of fact, to the utter disparagement
of all general grounds of reasoning, analogy, and an-
K 2

132 Stud!! of the Evidellce8 of Christianity.
tecedent credibility, by ,vhich that testimony ll1ay be
modified or discredited. Yet \ve ren1ark, that all the
instance8 they adduce, ,vhen carefully exalnined, really
tend to the very conclusion they are so anxious to set
aside. Arguments of this kind are sometimes deduced
from SUCll eases as, e. g., the belief accorded on very
slight ground of probabilit,y in all con1111ercial trans-
actions dependent on the assumed credit and charac-
ter of the negotiating parties; from the conclusions
acted upon in life assurances, not\vithstanding the
proverbial instability oflife;-and the like: in all ,vhich
,ve can see no other real drift or tendency than to
sub8tantiate instead of di8fJa
rage the necessity for
80lJle deeply-seated conviction of peTJJlaJlent oTder as
the basis of all probability.
A great source of 111isapprehension in this class of
arguments has been the undue confusion between the
force of le8lÙi/Oil!! in regard to hUlJzan affairs and events
in hi8toT!!, and in regard to physical facts. It n1ay be
true that some of the Ino
t surprising occurrences in
ordinary history are currently, and perhaps correctly
accepted, on but slight grounds of real testimony;
but then they relate to events of a kind \vhich,
ho,vever singular in their particular concomitant
circumstances, are not pretended to be beyond natu-
ral causes, or to involve higher questions of interven-
tion.
l'he most seemingly in1probab]e events in hZt111an his-
tory n1ay be perfectly credible, on suffieient testimony,
however contradicting ordinary experience of human
Illotives and conduct-sÏ1nply because ,,-re cannot assign
any lin1its to the varieties of human dispositions,
passions, or tendencies, or the extent to which they
may be influenced by circun1stances of which, perhaps,
we have little or no kno\vledge to guide us. But no
such cases \vould have the reillotest applicability to
alleged violations of the la,vs of 1Jlatter, or interruptions
of the course of ph!J8z.cal causes.

Stud!! of the Evidences of Christianit!/. 133
The case of the alleged external attestations of
Revelation, is one essentially involving considerations
of ph!Jsical evidence. It is not one in which such
reflexions and habits of thought as arise out of a
falniliarity with human history, and moral argument,
\vill suffice. These no doubt and other kindred topics,
with \vhich the scholar and the moralist are fan1iliar,
are of great and fundamental Ï1nportance to our general
vie,vs of the whole subject of Christian evidence; but
the particular case of 'lJliracles, as such, is one specially
bearing on purely jJhysical contelnplations, and on
\vhich no genera] moral principles, no commún rules
of evidence or logical technicalities, can enable us to
form a correct judgment. It is not a question \vhich
can be. decided by a fe\v trite and commonplace
generalities as to the moral governUlent of the ,vorld
and the belief in the Divine Omnipotence-or as to the
validity of hUlllan testimony, or the limits of human
experience. It involves, and is essentially built upon,
those grander conceptions of the order of nature, those
comprehensive prÏ1nary elelllents of all physical know-
ledge, those ultimate ideas of universal causation,
\vhich can only be familiar to those thoroughly versed
in cosmical philosophy in its \videst sense.
In an age of physical research like the present, all
highly cultivated minds and duly advanced intellects
haye imbibed, more or less, the lessons of the inductive
philosophy, and have at least in son1e n1easure learned
to appreciate the grand foundation conception of
universalla\v-to recognise the Ilnpossibility even of
allY two 'lllaterial atonlS subsisting together \vithout a
determinate relation-of any action of the one on the
other, \vhether of equilibrium or of motion, without
reference to a physical cause-of any modification
whatsoever in the existing conditions of material agents,
unless through the invariable operation of a series of
eternally impressed consequences, follo\ving in some
necessary chain of orderly connexion-ho\vever imper-

134 Stlt(lj; of the Evidences of Christianity.
feetly kno,vn to us. So clear and indisputable indeed
has this great truth become-so deeply seated has it
been now admitted to be, in the essential nature of
sensible things and of the external world, that not
only do all philosophical inquirers adopt it, as a
prin1ary principle and guiding maxinl of all their
researches- but, ,vhat is most '\vorthy of relllark,
minds of a less comprehensive capacity, accus-
tomed to reason on topics of another character, and
on more contracted vie,vs, have at the present day
been constrained to evince some concession to this
grand principle, even ,vhen seellling to oppose it.
Among ,vriters on these questions, Dean 1'rench has
evinced a higher vie,v of physical philosophy than we
might have expected fronl the mere proillptings of philo-
logy and literature, "':lhen he affirms that ',ve con-
tinually behold lower la,vs held in restraint by higher;
mechanic by dynamic-chemical by vital, pllysical by
moral;' ren1arks ,vhich, if only follo\ved out, entirely
accord ,vith the conclusion of universal subordination
of causation; though ,ve n1ust ren1ark in passing that
the meaning of 'moral la,vs controlling physical,' is
not very clear.
It is for the most part hazardous ground for any
generalllloral reasoner to take, to discuss subjects of
evidence ,vhich essentially involve that higher apprecia-
tion of physical truth ,vhich can be attained only fronl
an accurate and con1prehensive acquaintance ,vith the
connected series of the physical and n1atheu1atical
sciences. Thus, for example, the silnple but grand
truth of the law of conservation, and the stability of
the heavenly n10tions, no,v ,vell understood by all sound
cosmical philosophers, is but the type of the universal
self-sustaining and self-evolving po\vers \vhich pervade
all nature. Yet the difficulty of conceiving this truth
in its simplest exemplification ,vas forlnerly the chief
hindrance to the acceptance of the solar system-frolH
the prepossession of the peripatetic dogma that there

Stud!} of the Evidences oj ChristiaJlit!}. 135
must be a constantly acting moving force to keep it
going. This very exploded chimera, however, by a
singular infatuation, is no\v actually revived as the
ground of argument for miraculous interposition by
redoubtable chan1pions ,vho, to eyince their profound
kno\vledge of mechanical philosophy, inform us that
'the whole of nature is like a n1ill, ,vhich cannot go
on \vithout the continual application of a moving
po,ver !'
Of these ,vould-be philosophers, we find many
anxiously d\velling on the topic, so undeniably just in
itself, of the danger of incautious conclusions-of the
gross errors into which Inen fall by over-hasty gene-
ralizations. They recount \vith triun1ph the ab::;urd
mistakes into 'v hich some even en1inent philosophers
have fallen in prematurely denying \vhat experience
has since fully sho\vn to be true, because in the then
state of know-ledge it seemed incredib]e. 1 They feel
an elevating sense of superiority in putting do\vn the
arrogance of scientific pretensions by alleging the short-
sighted dogmatisln \vith \vhich n1en of high repute in
science haye evinced a scepticism in points of vulgar
belief, in \vhich, after all, the vulgar belief has proved
right. They even Inake a considerable display of
reasoning on such cases; but ,ve cannot say that those
reasonings areparticularlydistinguishedfor consistency,
force, or originality. The philosopher (for exan1ple)
denies the credibility of alleged events professedly in
their nature at variance with all physical analogy. These
,vriters, in reply, affect to make a solemn appeal to the
bar of analogy, and support it by instances \vhich pre-
cisely defeat their o\vn conclusion. Thus they advance
the novel and profoundly instructive story of an Indian
who denied the existence of ice as at variance \vith

1 Numerous instances of the kind referred to will be found cited in )Ir.
R. Chambers's E"fsa.1J on Testimony, &c. Edinburgh Papers, 1859; and in
.A.bp. \Vhately' g Edition of Paley's Evidences.

136 Stud!! of the Evidences of ChrÙ;tianit!l.
experience; and still more from the contradiction that
being solid, it could not float in ,vater. In like
n1anner they d\vell upon other equally interesting
stories of a butterfly, ,vho from the experience of his
ephen1erallife in sun1mer, denied that the leaves were
ever bro\vn or the ground covered \vitIl snow; of a
child who ,vatched a elock made to strike onl!! at noon,
through nlany hours, and therefore concluded it could
never strike; of a person who had observed that fisll
are organized to 8WZJ}l, and therefore concluded there
could be no such animals as J!!!iJlg fish.
These, \vith a host of other equally recondite, novel,
startling, and conclusive instances are urged in a tone
of solemn \visdom, to prove-,vhat? That water is
converted into ice by a regular lcnOWft law; that it has
a specific gravity less than water by 80JJZe law at present
but iU1perfectly understood; that \vithout violation of
analog!!, fins n1ay be n10ùified into wings; that it is
part of the great law of clin1ate that in ,vinter leaves
are brown and the ground sometÏ1nes \vhite-that
machinery may be Inade with action intermitting by
laws as regular as those of its Inore ordinary operation.
In a word, that the philosopher who looks to an
endless subordinating series of la\vs of successively
higher generality, is inconsiste:ut in denying events at
variance \vith that subordination!
It is indeed curious to notice the elaborate multi-
plication of instances adduced by some of the \vriters
referred to, all really tending to prove the subordi-
l1ation of facts to la1cs, clearly evinced as soon as the
cases ,,,,,ere \vell understood, though, till then, often
regarded in a sceptical spirit; while of that scepticisn1
they furnish the real and true refutation in the prin-
ciple of law ultimately established, under \vhatever
prin1ary appearance and semblance of marvellous
discordance from all law. It would be beyond our
liInits to notice in detail such instances as are thus
d\velt upon, and apparently regarded as of sovereign

Stud!! of the Evidences of Ohristianif!l_ 137
value and importance, to discredit philosophical gene-
ralization :-such as the disbelief in the marvels re-
counted by l\Iarco Polo; of the nliracle of the nlartyrs
\\'"ho spoke articulately after their tongues were cut
out; the angel seen in the air by 2000 persons at
l\Iilan; the nliraculous balls of fire on the spires at
Plausac; Herodotus's story of the bird in the mouth
of the crocodile; narratives oft,he sea-serpent, marvels
of mesmerism and electro- biology; all discredited
formerly as fables; vaccination observed and attested
by peasants, but denied and ridiculed by medical
men :-
These and the like cases are all urged as triumphant
proofs, of what ?-that some men have al\vays been
found of unduly sceptical tendencies; and sonletimes
of a rationally cautious turn; who have heard strange,
and, perhaps, exaggerated narratives, and have main-
tained sometimes a ,vise, sometimes an unwise, degree
of reserve and caution in adrnitting them; though they
have since proved in accordance with natural causes.
Hallanl and Rogers are cited as veritable '\vitnesses
to the truth of certain effects of nlesmerism in their
day generally disbelieved; and for asserting \vhich
they \vere met with all but an imputation of 'the lie
direct.' They admitted, however, that their assertion
\vas founded on 'experience so rare as to be had only
once in a century;' but that experience has been
since universally borne out by all who have candidly
examined the question, and the apparentl!! isolated and
marvellous cases have settled down into examples of
broad and general laws, now fully justified by experience
and analogy.
Physiological evidence is adduced (which we will ·
suppose ,veil substantiated) to sho\v that the excision
of the 'whole tongue does not take away the power of
speech, though that of the eætreJJlit!/ does so; hence
the denial of the story fronl imperfect experience_
So of other cases: the angel at l\Iilan was the

138 Stud!! of the Evidences of Christianity.
aerial reflexion of an image 011 a church; the balls of
fire, at Plausac, were electrical; the sea-serpent ,vas a
basking shark, or a stem of sea-weed. A comnlittee of
the French Academy of Sciences, ,vith Lavoi
ier at
its head, after a grave investigation, pronounced the
alleged fall of aërolites to be a superstitious fable. It
is, ho\vever, no,v substantiated, not as a miracle, but
as a well-known natural phenomenon. Instances of
undue pllilosophical scepticism are unfortunately com..
mon; but they are the errors, not the correct processes,
of inductive inquiry.
Granting all these instances, we merely ask-wllat
do they prove ?-except the real and paran10unt
dominion of the rule of law and order, of universal
8uóordination of physical cause8, as the sole principle
and criterion of proof and evidence in the region of
physical and sensible truth; and nowhere nlore em.
phatically than in the history of Inarvels and pro-
digies, do we find a verification of the truth, 'opin-
iOnU111 COIDrnenta delet dies, naturæ judicia con-
firmat. '
This in fact is the sole real result of all the profound
parallelisms and illustrative anecdotes so confidently
but unconsciously adduced by these writers "\vith an
opposite design.
What is the real conclusion from the far-falned
Hz.storic Douóts and the Chronicles of .l]cnarf? but
sÏInplythis-there is a rational8olution, a real conformity
to analo!!.!! and experience, to ,vhatever extent a par-
tially informed inquirer nlight be led to reject the re-
counted apparent "\\Tonders on imperfect kno,vledge, and
fronl too hasty inference; these delightful parodies
on Scripture (if they prove anything), ,vould simply
prove that the Bible narrative is no more properly
1JIÙ.aculotl81:han the marvellous exploits of Napoleon I.,
or the paradoxical events of recent history.
J list a silnilar scepticis m has been evinced by nearly
all the first physiologists of the day, who have joined

Study of the Evidences of Christianity_ 13 9
ìn rejecting the developnlent theories of Lamarck and
the 17estiges
. and \vhile they have strenuously main-
tained successive creations, have denied and. denounced
the alleged production of organic life hy 1\1 essrs. Crosse
and 'Veekes, and stoutly maintained the impossibility
of spontaneous generation, on the alleged ground of con-
tradiction to experience. Yet it is no\v ackno\vlec1ged
under the high sanction of the naUle of Û,yen, l that
'creation' is only another name for our ignorance of the
Blode of production; and it has heen the unans\vered
and unans\verahle argument of another reasoner that
118\V species nuts! have originated either out of their inor-
ganic elenlents, or out of previously organized fornls ;
either development or spontaneous generation 711llS! be
true: \vhile a \vork has no\v appeared by a naturalist
of the most ackno\vledged authority, 1\lr. Dar\vin's
masterly volume on The Origin of SjJecies hy the la\v
of 'natural selection,' -which no\y suhstantiates on
undeniahle grounds the very principle so long de-
nounced hy the first naturalists,-the origination of
new species óy natural causes: a work \vhich must soon
bring about an entire revolution of opinion in favour of
the grand principle of the self-evolving po\vers of nature.
By parity of reason it might just as \vell he ohjected to
Archhishop "Thately's theory of civilization, we have
only for a few centuries kno\vn anything of savages;
ho\v then can \ve pretend to infer that they have never
civilized themselves? never, in all that enornlOUS
lengt.h of tiIne '\vhich modern djscovery has no'\v indis-
putably assigned to the existence of the hUlnan race I
This theory, ho\vever, is no\v introduced as a com-
ment on Paley in support of the credibility of revela-
tion; and an admirable argunlent no doubt it is,
though perhaps many would apply it in a sense some-
\vhat different from that of the author. If t.he use of
fire, the cultivation of the soil, and the like, were

1 British Association A.ddress, 18 5 8 .

140 Stud!} of the Evidences of Christianity.
Divine revelations, the most obvious inference would
be that so like"rlse are printing and steam. If the
boomerang was divinely communicated to savages
ignorant of its principle, then surely the disclosure of
that principle in our till1e by the gyroscope, ",vas
equally so. But no one denies revelation in this sense;
the philosophy of the age does not discredit the in-
spiration of Prophets and Apostles, though it may
eometimes believe it in poets, legislators, philosophers,
and others gifted with high genius. At all events, the
revelation of civilization does not involve the question
of eæternal '1Jliracles, which is here the sole point in
dispute. The nlain assertion of Paley is that it is
impossible to conceive a revelation given except by
means of miracles. This is his primary axiom; but
this is precisely the point "Thich the modern turn of
reasoning most calls in question, and rather adopts
the belief that a revelation is then most credible, 'v hen
it appeals least to violations of natural causes. rrhus,
if miracles were in the estimation of a former age
among the chief supports of Christianity, they are at
presen t among the main dijJiculties, and hindrances to
its acceptance.
One of the first inductive philosophers of the age,
Professor Faraday, has incurred the unlimited dis-
pleasure of these profound intellectualists, because he
has urged that the 111ere contracted experience of the
senses is liable to deception, and that 've ought to be
guided in our conclusions-and, in fact, can only correct
the errors of the senses-by a careful recurrence to the
consideration of naturalla,vs and extended analogies.!
In opposition to this heretical proposition, they2 set
in array the dictum of t\VO great authorities of the
Scottish school, Drs. Abercrombie and Chalnlers, that
'on a certain amount of testimony ,ve might believe

I Lecture on Mental Education. 18 54.
2 See Edinburgh Papers, {Te:)timony,' &c., by R. Chaulbers, Esq.,
F.R.S. E., &c.

Stud!! of the Evidences of Ohristianity. 141
any statement, ho\vever inlprobable;' so that if a nunl-
bpr of respectable ,vitnesses \vere to concur in asseve-
rating that on a certain occasion they had seen t\v"O
and t\VO make five, we should be bound to believe thenl !
This, perhaps it will be said, is an extreme case.
Let us suppose another :-if a nUlnber of veracious
witnesses \vere to allege a real instance of witchcraft
at the present day, there 111ight no doubt be found
some infatuated persons ,vho ,vould believe it; but
the strongest of such assertions to any educated man.
,vould but prove either that the ,vitnesses ,vere cun-
ningly inlposed upon, or the ,vizard himself deluded.
If the nlost nunlerous ship's company \vere all to
asseverate that they had seen a mermaid, would any
rational persons at the present day believe them?
That they sa\v something \vhich they believed to be a
mernlaid, ,vould be easily conceded. No anlount of
attestation of innumerable and honest ,vitnesses,
would ever convince anyone versed in mathematical
and mechanical science, that a person had squared
the circle or discovered perpetual motion. Antecedent
credibility depends on antecedent kno\vledge, and
enlarged vie\vs of the connexion and dependence of
truths; and the value of any testimony ,viti be modi-
fied or destroyed in different degrees to minds dif-
ferently enlightened.
Testimony, after all, is but a second-hand assurance;
-it is but a blind guide; testinlony can avail nothing
against reason. The essential question of nliracleR
stand::; quite apart from any consideration of testÙllOJlY;
the question would remain the s::tnle, if \ve had the
evidence of our own senses to an alleged miracle, that
is, to an extraordinary or inexplicable fact. It is not
the 'lnere fact, but the cause or eæplanation of it, which
is the point at issue.
The case, indeed, of the antecedent argument of mi-
racles is very clear, ho\vever little some are inclined
to perceive it. In nature and from nature, by science

142 Stlldy oj the Evidences qf Christianity
and by reason, we neither have nor can possibly have
any evidence of a lJeitY'lCol'kÍ11g vziracles .;-for that, "ve
must go out of nature and beyond reason. If ,ve
could llave any SUCll evidence frOJJl 1lature, it could
only prove extraordinary natural effects, ,vhich ,vould
not be 1Jliracle8 in the old theological sense, as isolated,
unrelated, and uncaused;
rhereas no physical fact can
be conceived as unique, or ,vithout analogy and relatio11
to others, and to the whole system of natural causes.
To conclude, an" alleged nliracle can only be re-
garded in one of t,vo ,vays ;-either (1) abstractedly
as a physical event, and therefore to be investigated
by reason and physical evidence, and referred to phy-
sical causes, possibly to h'n01D1Z causes, but at all eyents
to some higher cause or la,v, if at present unknown;
it then ceases to be supernatural, yet still might be
appealed to in support of religious truth, especially
as referring to the state of kno,vledge and apprehen-
sions of the parties addressed in past ages; or (2)
as connected ,vith religious doctrine, regarded in a
sacred light, asserted on the authority of inspiration.
In this case it ceases to be capable of investigation by
reason, or to own its dominion; it is accepted on re-
ligious grounds, and can appeal only to the principle
and influence of faith.
Thus miraculous narratives become invested with the
cllaracter of articles of faith, if they be accepted in a
less positive and certain light, or perhaps as involving
11101"e or less of the parabolic or 111ythic character; or
at any rate as received in connexion ,vith, and for the
sake of the doctrine inculcated.
S0111e of the most strenuous advocates of the Chris-
tian 'evidences' readily avo,v, indeed expressly con-
tend, that the attestation of 111iracles is, after all, not
irresistible; and that in the very uncertainty ,vhich
confe:-3sedly remains lies the 'trial of faith,'1 which it is

1 See, e.g., Butler's Analogy, pt. ii. ch. 6.

Stua!! of the Evidences of Christianity. 143
thus implied must really rest on some other inde-
pendent nloral conviction.
In the popular acceptation, it is c]ear the Gospel
miracles are ahvays object
, not evidences of faith; and
\vhen they are connected specially '\vith doctrines, as
in several of the higher mysteries of the Christian faith,
the sanctity ,yhich invests the point of faith itself is
extended to the externè
l narrative in which it is enl-
bodied; the reverence due to the mystery renders the
external events sacred from examination, and shields
thenl also \vithin the pale of the sanctuary; the
miracles are 111erged in the doctrines ,vith ,vhich they
are connected, and associated ,vith the declarations of
spiritual things ,vhich are, as such, exempt fron1 those
criticis111s to \vhich physical statelnents ,vould be
necessarily amenable.
But even in a reasoning point of view, those who
insist nlost on the positive external proofs, allow that
'ìJloral evidence is distin guished from deJJloJlslrative, not
only in that it admits of degrees, but more especially
in that the sanze moral argunlent is of different force
to different ?]lÙuly. And the advocate of Christian evi-
dence triulllphs in the acknowledgment that the
strength of Christianity lies in the variety of its evi-
dences, suited to all varieties of apprehension; and,
that, anlid all the diversities of conception, those \vho
cannot appreciate some one class of proofs, ,viII al\vays
find some other satisfactory, is itself the cro\vning
evidence.
"Tith a firm belief in constant supernatural interpo-
sition, the cotelnporaries .of the Apostles were as much
blinded to the reception of the gospel, as, ,vith an
opposite persuasion, others have been at a later period.
Those ,vho had access to living Divine instruction
\vere not superior to the prepossessions and ignorance
of their tinles. There neyer existed an 'infallible aae'
ö
of exemption from doubt or prejudice. And if to
later times records ,vritten in the characters of a long

144 Stud!! of the Ecidences of Christianity.
past epoch are left to be deciphered by the advancing
light of learning and science,-the spirit of faith dis-
covers continually increasing attestation of the Divine
authority of the truths they include.
The 'reason of the hope that is in us' is not re-
stricted to eæternal signs, nor to anyone kind of evi-
dence, but consists of such assurance as may be most
satisfactory to each earnest individual inquirer's own
mind. And the true acceptance of the entire revealed
manifestation of Christianity ,viII be most ,vorthily
and satisfactorily based on that assurance of 'faith,'
by which the Apostle affirms' we stand,' (2 Cor. ii. 24),
and which, in accordance ,vith his emphatic declara-
tion, must rest, 'not in the wisdom of man, but in
the power of God.' (I Cor. ii. 5.)

\
SE_1NCES IIISTORIQUES DE GENEVE-
THE NATIONAL CHURCH.

I N the city of Geneva, once the stronghold of
the severest creed of the Reforn1ation, Chris-
tianity itself has of late years received some very
rude shocks. But special at.tempts have been re-
cently made to counteract their effects and to
re-organize the Christian congregations upon Evan-
gelical principles. In pursuance of this design, there
have been delivered and published during the last few
years a series of addresses by distinguished persons
holding Evangelical sentiments, entitled Séance8
Historiques. The attention of the hearers ,vas to be
conciliated by the concrete form of these discourses;
the phenomenon of the historical Christianity to be
presented as a fact vthich could not be ignored, and
,vhich must be ackno,vledged to have had some special
source; ,vhile, froln tÍ1ne to time, as occasion offered,
the ll10re peculiar vie\vs of the speakers ,vere to be in-
stilled. But before this panoran1a of historic scenes
had advanced beyond the period of the fall of hea-
thenisH1 in the 'Vest, there had emerged a remarkable
discrepancy bet.ween the vie,vs of t,vo of the authors,
other,vise agreeing in the main.
It fell to the Comte Léon de Gasparin to illustrate
the reign of Constantine. He laid it do\vn in the
strongest manner, that the individualist principle
supplies the true basis of the Church, and that by
inaugurating the union between Church and State
L

.

146 SéaJices Historiqucs de GeJlcve.
Constantine introduced into Christianity the false
and pagan principle of l\lultituc1inism. }I. Bungener
follo,ved in two lectures upon the age of Ambrose and
r
rheoaosius. He felt it necessary, for his o,vn satis-
faction and that of others, to express his dissent from
these opinions. He agreed in the portraiture dra\vn by
his predecessor of the so-called first Christian emperor,
and in his estin1ate of his personal character. But he
maintained, that the mult.itudil1ist principle ,vas not
unla,vful, nor essentially pagan; that it "
as reco-
gnised and consecrated in the example of the J e"Tish
theocracy; that the greatest victories of Christianity
have been ,yon by it; that it sho,ved it,self unùer
Apostolic sanction as early aR the day of Pentecost ;-
for it would be absurd to suppose the three thousand
who 'v ere joined to the Church on the preaching of
Peter to have been all 'converted' persons in the
modern Evangelical sense of the word. He especially
pointed out, that the Churches "\\"hich clainl to be
founded upon Individualis111, fall back then1selves,
when they beconle hereditary, upon the nlultitudi-
nist principle. His brief, but very pertinent obser-
vations on that subject ,vere concluùed in these
,vords :-
'Le nlultituclinisme est une force qui peut, comme
toute force, être llial dirigée, n)al exploitée, lnais qui
peut aussi l'être au profit de la vérité} de la piété, de
la vie. Les Eglises fondées sur un autre principe ont
aidé à rectifier celui-là; c' est un des incontestables
services qu' elles ont rendus, de nos jours, à la cause de
l'Evangile. Elles ont droit à notre reconnaissance;
nlais à Ci-enève, qu' elles ne nous delnandellt pas ce que
nous ne pouvons faire, et qu' on ll1e pernlette de le
dire, ce qu' elles ne font pas elles-mên1es. Oui! Ie
multitudinisn1e genevois est resté vivant chez elles, et
certainenlent elles lui doivent une portion notable de
Jeur consistance au dedans, de leur influence au dehors.
Elles font appel, comme nous, à ses souvenirs et à ses

The National Church.

117

gloires; elles forlnent, avec nous, ce que Ie Inonde
chrétien appelle et appellera toujours I'Eglise de GeJlève.
Nous ne la renions, au fond, pas plus les uns que les
autres. Elle a été, elle est, eUe restera notre mère
à tous.' 1
Such are the feelings in favour of N ationalislll on
the part of
I. Bungener, a n1elnber of the Genevan
Church; a Church to ,vllich nlany \vould not even con-
cede that title, and of \vhich the ecclesiastical reno\vn
centres upon one great nalne; ,vhile the civil history
of the country presents but little of interest either in
ancient or modern tÎ1ues. But the questions at issue
bet\veen these t\VO () enevans are of ,vide Christian
concern, and especially to ourselves. If the Genevans
cannot be proud of their Calvin, as they cannot in all
things-and even he is not truly their o\vn-they have
little else of which to speak before Christendonl. Very
different are the recollections \vhich are a,vakened by
the past history of such a Churcll as ours. Its
roots are found to penetrate deep into the history of
the nlost freely and fully developed nationality in the
\vorld, and its firm. hold upon the past is one of its
best auguries for the future. It has lived through
Saxon rudeness, N orn1an rapine, baronial oppression
and bloodshed; it has survived the tyranny of Tudors,
recovered from fanatical assaults, escaped the trea-
chery of Stuarts; has not perished under coldness,
nor been stifled \yith patronage, nor sunk utterly in a
dull age, nor been entirely depraved in a corrupt one.
Neither as a spiritual society, nor as a national
institution, need there be any fear that the Church
of this country, \yhich has passed through so nlany
ordeal
, shall succumb, because ,ve 111ay be on the
verge of some political and ecclesiastical changes. "r e,
oursel v.es, cohere \vith those \vho have preceded us,
under very different forn1s ûf eivil constitution, and

1 Séances Historiques de Genève- Le Ckristianisme au 4ième
Siècle, p. 153.

L2

148 Séance8 IIi8toriques de Genève.
under a very different creed and externals of wors11ip.
The 'rude forefathers,' \vhose mouldering bones, layer
upon layer, have raised the soil round the foundations
of our old churcl1es, adored the Host, ,yorshipped the
Virgin, signed then1selves \vith the sign of the cross,
sprinkled themselves \vith 110ly ,vater, and paid money
for nlasses for the relief of souls in purgatory. But it
is no reason, because \ve trust that spiritually \ve are
at one \vith the best of those ,"Tho have gone before us
in better things than these, that we should revert to
their old-\vorld practices; nor should \ve content our..
selves with sinlply transnlitting to those who shall
folio",'" us, traditions \vhich 11ave descended to ourselves,
if \ve can transn1Ït sonlething better. 'l:'here is a tinle .
for building up old ,vaste places, and a time for rai
il1g
fresh structures; a tilne for repairing the ancient
paths, and a time for filling the valleys and lo\vering
the hills in the constructing of ne,y. The J e,vs, con-
tell1poraries of Jesus and his Apostles, ,vere fighters
against God, in refusing to accept a new application
of things \vritten in the La,v, the Prophets, and the
Psaln1s; the Ronlans in the till1e of Theodosius \vere
fighters againRt Hin1, ,vllen they resisted the ne\v
religion ,vith an appeal to old cuStOlllS; so \vere the
opponents of "Tycliffe and his English Bible, and the
opponents of Cranuler and his Refornlation. 1\Ieddle
not ,vith. them that are given to change is a \varning
for SOllle times, and self..willed persons maJ 'bring ill
danlnable heresies; , at others, 'old things are to pass
a\vay,' and that is erroneously' called heresy' by the
blind, ,vhich is really a ,vorshippil1g the God of the
Fathers in a Letter \va-y.
'Vhen
igns of the tinles are beheld, foretelling
change, it behoves those ,vho think they perceiye
them to indicate them to others, not in any spirit of
presunlption or of haste; and, in no spirit of presulnp-
tion, to suggest inquiries as to the best n1ethod of
adjusting old things to new conditions.

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149

Iany evils are seen in various ages, if not to ha\Te
issued directJy, to have been intin1ately linked ,yith
the Christian profession-such as reJigious ,vars, per-
secutions, delusions, impositions, spiritual tyrannies;
many goods of civilization in our o\yn day, when
Inen have run to and fro and kno,vledge has
been increased, have apparently not the remotest
connexion ,vith the Gospel. Hence grave doubts arise
in the minds of really \vell-ll1eaning persons, ,vhether
the secular future of hun1anity is necessarily bound
up with the diffusion of Christianity-whether the
Church is to be hereafter the life-giver to human
society. It ,,,"ould be idle on the part of religious
advocates to treat anxieties of this kind as if they ,vere
forn1s of the old V oltairian anti-Christianism. They
are not those affectations of difficulties 'v here hy vice
endeavours to lull asleep its fears of a judgll1ent
to come; nor are they the pretensions of ignorant
and preSU111ptuouS spirits, .making theu1selves ,vise
beyond the limits of man's wisdoln. Even if SUCll
were, indeed, the sources of the ,vide-spread doubts
respecting traditional Christianity which prevail in
our o\vn day, it ,vould be very injudicious polemic
,vhich should content itself ,vith denouncing the
wickedness, or expressing pity for the blindness, of
those ,vho entertain them. An in1putation of evil
motives may embitter an opponent and add gall to
controversy, but can never dispense ,vith the necessity
for replying to his arguments, nor ,vith the advisable-
ness of neutralizing his objections.
If anxieties respecting the future of Christianity,
and the office of the Christian Church in time to
COIne, ,vere confined to a few students or speculative
philosophers, they n1ight be put aside as mere theoretical
questions; if rude criticisn1s upon the Scriptures, of
the Tom Paine kind, proceeding from agitators of the
masses, or from uninstructed persons, ,vere the only
assaults to ,vhich the letter of the Bible ,vas exposed,

150 Séances
Ii8toTique8 de Genève.
it might be thought, that further instruction ,vould
irnpart a more reverential and submissive spirit: if
lay people only entertained objeetions to established
fornlularies in some of their parts, a self-satisfied
sacerdotalism, confident in a supernaturally trans-
nlitted illumination, nlight succeed in keeping peace
within the ,valls of emptied churches. It 111ay not
be very easy, by a statistical proof, to convince
those ,vhose preconceptions indispose then'! to ac11nit
it, of the fact of a very wide-spread alienation, both of
educated and uneducated persons, from the Christianity
,vhich is ordinarily presented in our churches and
chapels. \Vhether it be their reason or their moral
sense \vhich is shocked by ,vhat they hear there, the
ordinances of public worship and religious instruction
provided for the people of England, alike in the en-
do,ved and unendo,ved churches, are not used by them
to the extent ,,"e should expect, if they valued them very
highly, or if tlley were really adapted to the ,vants of
their nature as it is. And it has certainly not llitherto
received the attention which such a grave circumstance
delnanded, that a number equal to five n1Íllions and
a quarter of persons, should have neglected to attend
means of public worship ,vithin th
ir reacll on the
census Sunday in 1851; these five millions and a
quarter being forty-t,vo per cent. of the ,vhole number
able and ,vith opportunity of tllen attending. As an
indication, on the other hand, of a great extent of
dissatisfaction on the part of the clergy to SOUle
portion, at least, of the formularies of the Church
of England, may be taken the fact of the existence
of various associations to procure their revision, or
SOUle liberty in their use, especially that of omitting
one unhappy creed.
It is generally the custom of those ,vho ,vish to
ignore the necessity for grappling ,vith modern ques-
tions concerning Biblical interpretation, the construc-
tion of the Christian Creed, the position and prospects

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151

of the Christian Church, to represent the disposition
to entertain thenl as a disease contracted by Ineans
of Gernlan inoculation. At other tin1es, indeed, the
tables are turned, and theological inquirers are to be
silenced ,vith the reminder, that in the native land of
the Illodern scepticisn1, Evangelical and High Lutheran
reactions have already put it do,vn. It 111ay be, that
on these subjects \ve shall in England be 111uch in-
debted, for some time to come, to the patience of
Gerll1an investigators; but Vle are by no n1eans likely
to be mystified by their philosophical speculations, nor
to be carried a,vay by an inclination to force all facts
,vithin the s-\veep of sonle preconceived comprehensive
theory. If the German biblical critics have gathered
together much evidence, the verdict ,viII have to be
pronounced by the sober English judgment. But, in
fact, the influence of this foreign literature extends to
c0111paratively few among us, and is altogether in-

ufficient to account for the ,vide spread of that
,vhich has been called the negative theology. This
is rather o,ving to a spontaneous recoil, on the
part of large numbers of the III ore acute of our
population, from some of the doctrines ,vhich are to
be heard at church and chapel; to a distrust of the old
argun1ents for, or proofs of
a miraculous l{evelation ;
and to a misgiving as to the authority, or extent of
the authority, of the Scriptures. In the presence of
real difficulties of this kind, probably of genuine
English gro,vth, it is vain to seek to check that upen
discussion out of ,vhich alone any satisfactory settle-
ment of them can issue.
There nlay be a certain amount of literature circula-
ting among us in a cheap forI11, of ,vhich the purpose,
.,vith reference to Christianity, is simply negative and
destructive, and ,vhich is characterized by an absence
of all reverence, not only for beliefs, but for the best
hUl11an feelings ,vhich have gathered round them,
even ,vhen they have been false or superstitious. Rut

152 Séallces IIistoriqlles de Ge"è'ce.
if those who are old enough to do so ,voulù compare
the tone generally of the sceptical publications of the
present day ,vith that of the papers of Hone and
others about forty years ago, they would be ren1inded,
that assaults ,vere made then upon the Christian
religion in far grosser form than no,v, and long before
opinion could have been inoculated by German philo-
sophy-long before the more celebrated criticisn1s
upon the details of the Evangelical histories llad
appeared. But it \vàs attackeJ then as an institution,
or by reason of the unpopularity of institutions anù
methods of governnlent connected, or supposed to be
connected, ,vith it.
rhe anti-christian agitation of
that day in England ,vas a phase of rac1icalism., and of
a radicalisn1 \vhich ,vas a terrific and uprooting force,
of ,vhich the counterpart can scarcely be said to exist
among us no\v.
The sceptical movements in this generation are the
result of observation and thought, not of passion.
Things come to the kno\v ledge of alillost all persons,
,vhicll ,vere ullkno\vn a generation ago, even to the
,yell inforilled. Thus the popular kno\vledge, at that
time, of the surface of tIle earth, and of tIle populations
which cover it, ,vas extren1ely incomplete. In our
o,vn boyhood the \vorld as kno\vn to the ancients was
nearly all ,vhich ,vas kno,,-n to ourselves. \Ve have
recently beco111e acquainted-intin1ate-with the tee111-
ing regions of the far East, and \vith empires, pagan
or even atheistic, of ,vhich the origin runs far back
beyond the historic records of J udæa or of the 'VeBt,
and \vhich ,vere lllore populous than all Christendom
DO\V is, for 111any ages before the Christian era. Not
any book learning-not any proud exaltation of reason
-not any drean1Y Gernlan metaphysics-not any
minute and captious Biblical criticislll-suggest q ues-
tions to those ,vho on Sundays hear the reading and ex-
position of the Scriptures as they ,vere expounded to
our forefathers, and on l\Ionday peruse the ne\vs of a

The }latiollal CÏturch.

153

world of which our forefathers little ùreamed;-descrip-
tions of great nations, in some senses barbarous Cùlll-
pared \vith ourselves, but composed of men of flesh and
blood like our o,vn-of like passions, marrying and
domestic, congregating in great cities, buying and
selling and getting gain, agriculturists, lllerchants,
nlanufacturers, making 'val'S, establishing dynasties,
falling do,vn before objects of \vorship, constituting
priesthoods, binding thelllselves by oaths, honouring
the dead. In what relation does the Gospel stand to
these millions? Is there any trace on the face of its
records that it even contenlplated their existence?
'Ve are told, that to kno,v and believe in Jesus Christ
is in SOllle sense necessary to salvation. It has not
been given to these. Are they-\vill they be, here-
after, the 'vorse off for their ignorance? .As to
abstruse points of doctrine concerning the Divine
Nature itself, those subjects nlay be thought to lie
beyond the range of 0111' faculties; if one says, aye,
no other is entitled to say no to his aye; if one says,
no, no one is entitled to say aye to his no. Besides,
the best approxill1ative illustrations of those doctrines
Inust be sought in llletaphysical conceptions, of \vhich
fe\v are capable, and in the history of old controversies,
with which fe\ver still are acquainted. But \vith respect
to the moral t.reatll1ent of His creatures by Ahnighty
God, allll1en, in different degrees, are able to be judges
of the representations nlade of it, by reason of the
moral sense ,vhich He has given theln. As to the neces-
sity of faith in a Saviour to these peoples, ,vhen they
could never have had it, no one, upon reflection, can
believe in any such thing-doubtless they \vill be equit-
ably dealt ,vith. And ,vhen ,ve hear fine distinctions
dra\vn bet,veen covenanted and uncovenanted 111ercies,
it seen1S either to be a distinction ,vithout a differ-
ence, or to alnoullt to a denial of the broad anù equal
justice of the Supreme Being. 'Ve cannot be content
to \vrap this question up and leave it for a 111ystery, as

154 Séances llistoriques de Gellève.
to \vhat shall become of those myriads upon myriads
of non-christian races. First, if our traditions tell us,
that they are involved in the curse and perdition of
Adam, and may justly be punished llereafter indi-
vidually for his transgression, not having been extri-
cated fronl it by saving faith, ,ve are disposed to think,
that our traditions cannot herein fairly declare to us
the \yords and inferences from Scripture; but if on
examination it sllould turn out that they have, \ve
must say, that the .authors of the Scriptural books
have, in those matters, represented to us their o\vn
inadequate conceptions, and not the nlind of the Spirit
of God; for we Dlust conclude \vith the Apostle, , Yea,
let G-od be true and every lnan a liar.'
If, indeed, we are at liberty to believe, that all shall
be equitably dealt "ith according to their opportu-
nities, \vhether they have heard or not of the name
of Jesus, then we can ackno\vledge the case of the
Christian and non-Christian populations to be one of
difference of advantages. And, of course, no account
can be given of the principle \vhich deternlines the
unequal distribution of the divine benefits. The exhi-
bition of the divine attributes is not to be brought
to rneasure of nunlbers or proportions. But hun1an
staten1ents concerning the dealings of God with nlan-
kind, hypotheses and arguments about thenl, may
very usefully be so tested. Truly, the abstract or
pllilosophical difficulty nlay be as great concerning a
sn1all nUlll bel" of persons unprovided for, or, as might
be inferred from sonle doctrinal statelnents, not equi-
tably dealt ,vith, in the divine dispensations, as con-
cerning a large one; but. it does not so force itself
on the imagination and heart of the generality
of observers. The difficulty, though not new in
itself: is ne\v as to the great increase in the nunlbers
of those ,vho feel it, and in the practical urgency
for discovering an ans\ver, solution, or neutralization
for it, if \ve \vould set n1any unquiet souls at rest.

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lò5

From the sanle source of the advance of general
kno,vledge respecting the inhabitancy of the ,vorld
issues another inquiry concerning a promise, pro-
phecy, or assertion of Scripture. For the commis-
sion of Jesus to his .L
postles ,vas to preach the gos-
pel to 'all nations,' 'to every creature;' and St. Paul
says of the gentile ,vorld, 'But I say have they not
heard ? Yes, verily, their sound ,vent into all the
earth, and their ,vords unto the ends of the ,vorld,,
(Rom. x. 18), and speaks of the gospel ',vhich ,vas
preached to every nation under Heaven,' (CoI. i. 23),
when it has never yet been preacbed even to the half.
Then, again, it has often been appealed to as an evi-
dence of the supernatural origin of Christianity, and
as an instance of supernatural assistance vouchsafed
to it in the first centuries, that it so soon overspread
the world. It has seelned but a sn1allleap of about
three hundred years to the age of Constantine, if in
that time, not to insist upon the letter of the texts
already quoted, the conversion of the civilized ,vorld
could be accon1plished. It may be kno,vn only to the
more learned, that it ,vas not accomplished ,vith respect
to the Ron1an empire even then; that the Christians of
the East cannot be fairly computed at more t.han half
the population, nor the Christians of the 'Vest at so
much as a third, at the commencement of that em-
peror's reign. But it requires no learning to be a,vare
that neither then nor subsequently have the Christians
anlountec1 to more than a fourth part of the people of
the earth; and it is seen to be impossible to appeal
any longer to the ,vonderful spread of Christianity in
the three first centuries, as a special evidence of the
,visdo1l1 and goodness of God.
So like,vise a very grave modification of an 'evidence'
heretofore current n1ust ensue in another respect, in
consequence of an increased kno\vledge of other facts
connected ,vith the foregoing. It has been customary
to argue that, a priori, a supernatural revelation ,vas to

156 Séa1lces llistoriques de Genève.
be expected at the tin1e ,vhen Jesus Christ was mani-
fested upon the earth, by reason of the exhaustion of all
natural or unassisted human efforts for the alneliora-
tion of mankind. The state of the "Torld, it has been
customary to say, had become so utterly corrupt and
hopeless under the Roman s\vay, that a necessity and
special occasion was presented for an express divine
intervention. Our recently enlarged ethnographical
information shows SUCll an argun1ent to be altogether
inapplicable to the èase. If we could be judges of the
necessity for a special divine intervention, the stronger
necessity existed in the East. 1'here immense popula-
tions, like tIle Chinese, had never developed the idea
of a personal God, or had degenerated from a once
pure theological creed, as in India, from the reli-
gion of the Vedas. Oppressions and tyrannies, caste-
distinctions, common and enorn10US vices, a polluted
idolatrous \vorship, as bad as the worst which dis-'
graced Rome, Greece, or Syria, had prevailed for ages.
It would not be very tasteful, as an exception to
this description, to call Buddhism the gospel of
India, preached to it five or six centuries before the
Gospel of Jesus ,vas proclaimed in the nearer East.
But on the whole it \voulcl be more like the realities of
things, as we can no,v behold them, to say that the
Christian revelation ,vas given to the ,vestern ,vorld,
because it deserved it better and was more prepared
for it than the East. Pllilosophers, at least, had
anticipated in speculation sonle of its dearest hopes,
and had prepared the way for its self-denying ethics.
There are many other sources of the modern ques..
tionings of traditional Christianity \vhich cannot now
be touched upQn,originating like those which have been
mentioned, in a change of circunlstances \vherein ob-
servers are placed; whereby theirthoughts are turned in
new directions, and they are rendered dissatisfied with
old modes of speaking. But such a difficulty as that
respecting the souls of heathendon1, whicll must now

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157

conle closely home to multitudes among us, will dis-
appear, if it be candidly ackno,vledged that the ,vords
of the N e\v Testanlent, \vhich speak of the preaching
of the Gospel to the ,vhole world, were limited to the
understanding of the times \vhen they \vere spoken;
that doctrines concerning salvation, to be nlet \vith in
it, are for the most part applicable only to those to
,vhom the preaching of Christ should COlne; and that
we must draw our conclusions respecting a just
dealing hereafter with the individuals ,vho make up
the su m of heathellisnl, rather from reflections sug-
gested by our o\vn llloral instincts than froln the ex-
press declarations of Scripture ,vriters, \vho had no
such knowledge, as is given to ourselves, of the anlpli-
tude of the \vorld, \vhich is the scene of the divine
1nanifestations.

Ioreover, to our great comfort, there have been
preserved to us \vords of the Lord Jesus hinlself, de-
claring that the conditions of nlen in another ,vorld
'will be deternlined by their moral characters in this,
and not by their hereditary or traditional creeds; and
both nlan y ,vords and the practice of the great Apostle
Paul, \vithin the range ,vhich ,vas given hilll, tend to
the saIne result. He has been thought even to make
an allusion to the Buddhist JJharJJlJJla, or la\v, when
he said, "'Then the gentiles \vhich have not the la\y
do by nature the things contained in the law, these
having not the la\v are a la\v unto themselves, \vhich
sho,v the ,york of the la\v ,vritten in their hearts,' &c.
(Roln. i. r 4, ) 5.) Ho\vever this may be, it is evident
that if such a solution as the above is accepted, a
variety of doctrinal statelnents hitherto usual, Cal-
vinistic and Lutheran theories on the one hand and
,
sacrall1ental anù hierarchical ones on the other, must
be thro\vn into the background, if not abandoned.
There nlay be a long future during ,vhich the
present course of the \vorld shall last. Instead of its
dra\ving near the close of its existence, as repre-

158 SéaJlces lii:stúriques de GeJlf:ve.
sented in :Thlillennarian or Raùbinical fables, and \vith
so many more souls, according to sonle interpreta-
tions of the Gospel of Salvation, lost to Satan in
every age and in every nation, than have been \von
to Christ, that the victory ,vould evidently be on the
side of the Fiend, ,ve Inay yet be only at the com-
mencenlellt of the career of the great Spiritual Con-
queror even in this ,vorld. Nor have ,ve any right to
say that the effects pf \vhat He does upon earth shall
not extend and propagate themselves in \vorlds to
COlne. But under any expectation of the duration
of the present secular constitution, it is of the deepest
interest to us, both as observers and as agents, placed
evidently at an epoch when hunlanity finds itself
under ne\v conditions, to form some definite con-
ception to ourselves of the way in ,vhich Christianity
is hencefor,vard to act upon the \yorld \vhich is our
own.
Different estinlates are made of tIle beneficial effects
already \vrought by Christianity upon the secular as-
pect of the ,vorld, according to the different points of
vie\v froin \vhich it is regarded. Some endeavour,
frolll an inlpartial standing point, to enlbrace in one
panOrall1a the \vhole religious history of nlankind, of
\",hich Christianity then beC0111eS the most Ï1nportant
phase; others can only look at such a history fronl
,vithin SOllIe narrow chanlber of doctrinal and eccle-
siastical prepossessions. And anticipations equally
different for like reasons ,viII be entertained by per-
sons differently iUlbued, as to the forn1 under \vhich,
and the machinery by \vhich, it shall hereafter be
presented ,vith success, either to the practically un-
christianized populations of countries like our O\Vll,
or to peoples of other countries never as yet even
nominally christianized.
Although the consequences of ,vhat the Gospel does
,viTI be carried on into other ,yorlc1s, its ,york is to be
done here; although sonle of its work here lnust be un-

17le National Church.

150

seen, yet not all; nor much even of its unseen \vork \yith-
out at least SOlne visible manifestation and effects. The
invisible Church is to us a n1ere abstraction. N o\V it
is ackno\vledged on all hands, that to the multitudinist
principle are due t.he great external victories \vhich the
Christian nall1e has hitherto won. On the other hand,
it is alleged by the advocates of Individualism, that
these out\vard acquisitions and nun1erical accessions
have al\vays been lllade at the expense of the purity
of the Church; and, also, that Scriptural authority
and the earliest practice is in favour of Individualism.

,Ioreover, ahuost all the corruptions of Christianity
are attributed by individualists to the effecting by
the Elnperor Constantine of an unholy allianee
bet\veen Church and State. Yet a fair revie\v, as far
as there are data for it, of the state of Christianity
before the time of that emperor \villieave us in at lea;t
very great doubt, ,vhether the Christian character ,vas
reall
y, in the anterior period, superior on the average
to \vhat it has subsequently been. ""\Ve may appeal
to the most ancient records extant, and even to the
.A_postolic Epistles themselves, to sho\v, that neither
in doctrine nor in morals did the prin1itive Christian
conlffiunities at all approach to the ideal,vhieh has
been forlned of thein. The moral defects of the
earliest converts are the subject of the gravest expostu..
lation on the part of the Apostolic ,vriters: and the
doctrinal features of the early Church are much n10re
undeterrnined than ,vouid be thought by those ,vho
read them only through the ecclesiastical creeds.
Tho
e ,vho belong to very different-theological schools
ackno\vledge at tilnes, that they cannot with any cer..
tainty find in the highest ecclesiastical antiquity the
dogmas which they consider most important. It is
customary ,vith Lutherans to represent their doctrine
of justification by subjective faith as having died out
shortly after the .Apostolic age. In fact, it never ,vas
the doctrine of any considerable portion of the Church

'160 Séance8 Historiqites de Genève.
till the time of the Refornlation. It is not met with
in the imnlediately post-Apostolic writings, nor in the
Apostolic ,vritings, except those of St. Paul, not even
in the Epistle to the Hebre"\\Ts, which is of the Pauline
or Paulo-J ohannean school. The faith at least of that
Epistle, 'the substance of things hoped for,' is a very
different faith from the faith of the Epistle to the
Romans,-if the Lutherans are correct in representing
that to be, a conscious apprehending of the benefits
to the individual soul, of the Saviour's merits and
passion. Then, on the other hand, it is admitted,
even maintained, by a very different body of theolo-
gians, as by the learned Jesuit Petavius and many
others, that the doctrine after,vards developed into the
Nicene and Athanasian, is not to be found explicitly
in the earliest Fathers, nor even in Scripture, although
provable by it. One polelnical value of this vie"T to
those who uphold it, is to sho,v the necessity of an
inspired Church to develope Catholic truth.
But although the prinlitive Christians fell far short
both of a doctrinal and ethical ideal, there is this
l
enlarkable distinction to be noted between the primi-
tive aspects of doctrine and of ethics. 'J
he nlorals of
the first Christians ,vere cert,ainly very far belo,v
the estinlate ,vhich has been fornled of thenl; but
the standard by which they were measured ,vas Ull-
varying, lofty, and peculiar; llloreover, the nearer we
approach to the fountain head, the nlore definite do
we find the statement of the Christian principle, that
the source of religion is in the heart. On the contrary,
the nearer ,ve conle to the original sources of the
llistory, the less definite do ,ve find the statements of
doctrines, and even of the facts from ,vhich the doc-
trines ,vere after,vards inferred. And, at the very first,
,vith our Lord Hilnself and His Apostles, as repre-
sented to us in the N e,v Testament, morals come
before contemplation, ethics before theoretics. III the
patristic writings, theoretics assume continually an

The National Church.

161

increasingly disproportionate value. Even ,vithin
the compass of our N e,v Testament there is to be
found already a \vonderful contrast between thp words
of our Lord and such a discourse as the Epistle
to the Hebre\vs. There is not \vanting, indeed, to
this Epistle an earnest moral appeal, but the greater
part of it is illustrative, argumentative, and contro-
versial. Our Lord's discourses have almost all of
the In a direct n10ral bearing. This character of His
,vords is certainly l110re obvious in the three first
Gospels than in the fourth; and the remarkable
unison of those Gospels, ,vhen they reeite the Lord's
words, not,vithstanding their discrepancies in some
n1atters of fact, compel us to think, that they embody
more exact traditions of ,vhat He actually said than
the fourth does. 1
As monuments or witnesses, discrepant in a certain
degree as to other particulars, the evidence afforded
by the three Synoptics to the Lord's own words is
the most precious element in the Christian records.
'Ve are thereby placed at the very root of the Gospel
tradition. And these \vords of the Lord, taken in con-
junction ,vith the Epistle of St. James, and with the
first, or genuine, Epistle of St. Peter, leave no reason-
able dou bt of the general character of His teaching

1 The fourth Gospel has always been supposed to have been written with
a controversial purpose, and not to have been composed till from sixty to

eventy years after the events which it undertalies to nanate; some critics,
Indeed, think it was not of a date anterior to the year 140, and that it pre-
supposes opinions of a Valentinian character, or even
lontanist, which would
make it later still. At any rate it cannot, by external eviùence, be attached
to the person of St. John as its author, in the senf'e wherein moderns unde!-
stand the word author: that is, there is no proof that St. John gives his
voucher as an eye and ear witness of all which is related in it. Many
per:SOIls shrink from a bonâ fide examination of the' Gospel question,'
becal
se they imagine, that unless the four Gospels are received as perfectly
genume and authentic-that is, entirely the composition of the persons
whose names they bear, and without any admixture of legendary matter
or embellishment in their narratives, the only alternative is to suppose a
fraudulent design in those who did {'ompo
e them. This is a supposition
from .which common sense, and the moral instinct, alike revolt; but it is
happIly not an only alternative.

M

162 8éances Histor'Z.ques de GeJlève.
having been what, for want of a better word, we must
perhaps call moral. But to represent the Spirit of
Christ as a moral Spirit is not merely to proclaim .Him
as a Lawgiver, enacting the observance of a set of
precepts, but as fulfilled ,vith a Spirit given to Him
'without measure,' of which, indeed, alllnen are par-
takers ,vho have a sense of ,vhat they' ought' to be
and do; yet flowing over from Him, especially on
those who perceive in His ,vords, and in His life,
principles of ever.,videning application to the circunl-
stances of their own existence; who learn from Him
to penetrate to the root of their conscience, and to
recognise themselves as being active elements in the
moral order of the universe.
"\Ve may take an illustration of the relative value
in the Apostolic age of the doctrinal and nloral prin-
ciples, by citing a case \vhich ,viII be aIIo,ved to be
extrenle enough. It is evident there ,vere anlong the
Christian converts in that earliest period, those who had
no 1elief in a corporeal resurrection. SOlne of these
had, perhaps, been made converts from the sect of
the Sadducees, and had brought with them into the
Christian congregation the same doubts or negative
beliefs ,vhich belonged to them before their conver-
sion.
"he J e"wish church elnbraced in its bosom both
Pharisees and Sadducees: but our Lord, although
he expressly taught a resurrection, and argued ,vith
the Sadducees on the subject, never treated them as
aliens from Israel because they did not hold that doc-
trine; is much nlore severe on the moral defects and
hypocrisies of the Pharisees than upon the doctrinal
defects of the Sadducees. The Christian Churc}l was
recruited in its J e,vish branch chiefly from the sect of
the Pharisees, and it is somewhat difficult for us to
realize the conversion of a Sadducee to Christianity,
retaining his Sadducee disbelief or scepticism. But,
the 'SOlne alllong you who say that there is no re-
surrection of the dead,' (1 Cor. xv. 12, conlp. 2 Tim.

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IG3

ii. 18), can leave us in no doubt upon the matter,
that there ,vere Christians of Sadducee or Gentile pre-
judices, like those ,vho 1110cked or those ,vho hesitated
,vhell Paul preached at Athens the resurrection of the
dead. But St. Paul argues \vith such elaborately in
that chapter, ,vithout expelling them from the Church,
although he al,vays represents faith in the resurrec-
tion as the corner-stone of the Christian belief. He
endeavours rather to conciliate and to reillove objec-
tions. First, he represents the rising to life again,
not as miraculous or exceptional, but as a la,v of
hun1allity, or at least of Christian and spiritualized
humanity; and he treats the resurrection of Christ,
not as a wonder, but as a prerogative instance.
Secondly, he sho,vs, upon the doctrine of a spiritual
body, ho\v the objections against a resurrection from
the gross conception of a flesh and blood body, fall to
the ground. l Now, if there n1ight thus be Sadducee,
or quasi-Sadducee, Christians in the Church, their
Christianity 11lust have consisted in an appreciation of
the moral spirit of Jesus, and in an 0 bedience, such
as it lllight be, to the Christian precepts; they could
have been influenced by no expectation of a future
recon1pense. Their obedience n1ight or 11light not
be of as high an order as that ,vhich is so lllotived;
it might have been a 111ere legal habit, or an exalted
disinterested life. N O'V, let us conlpare a person of
t,his description ,vith such as those "Tho are indicated,
(1 Cor. xv. 19, 32) ; and ,ye cannot think that St. Paul
is there speaking of hin1self personally, but of the ge-
neral run of persons reluctant to exercise self-restraint
and to expose thelnselves to persecution for the Gos-
pel's sake, yet induced to do so by the hope of a

So in Luke xx. 27-35, the Sadducees are dealt with in a like argumen-

hve manner. They understood the doctrine of the re
urrection to
Imply the ri
ing of men with such bodies as they now have; the case
supposed by them loses its point when the di
tinction is revealed between
the animal anù the angelic bodies.
l\I2

.

164 8éances Ilistorif)ues de Ge1lève.
future reco111pense. Let us consider these two de-
scriptions of persons. The one class is defective in
the Christian doctrine, and in the n10st fundanlental
article of the Apostle's preaching, the other in the
Christian III oral life ; can "re say that the one defect
,vas more fatal than the other? 'Ve do not find the
Apostle excollln1unicating these Corinthians, ,vho said
there ,vas no resurrection of the dead. l On the other
hand, we kno,v it ,vas only in an extren1e case that
he sanctioned excò111111unication for the cause of
inlffiorality. And upon the ,vhole, if ,ve cannot
effectually compare the person deficient in a
true belief of the resurrection, ,vith an inlmoral
or evil liver-if ,ve can only say they \vere both ba.d
Christians-at least 've have no reason to deternline
that the good liver ,vho disbelieved the resurrection
was treated by St. Paul as less of a Christian than the
evil liver ,vho believed it. 'Ve cannot suppose the
evil life al,vays to have brought on the disbelief in the
doctrine, nor the disbelief in the doctrine to have issued
al,vays in an evil life.
Now, frOlll ,vhat has been said we gather t,vo im-
portant conclusions :-first, of the at least equal,value
of the Christian life, as compared with the Christian
doctrine; and, secondly, of the retaining ,vithin the
Church, both of those ,vho ,vere erroneous and defec-
tive in doctrine, and of those ,vho ,vere by their lives
Ull\vortllY of their profession; they who caused di-

1 St. Paul' delivered to Satan' (whatever tbat may mean), Hymenæus,
who maintained the resurrection to be past already, most likely meaning
it was only a moral one; but it does not appear it was for this offence he
is so mentioned in conj unction with Alexander, and their provocation is not
described: where he i8 said to have taught that the resurrection is past
already, he is in companionship with Philetus, and nothing is added of any
punishment of either. These strange opinions afterwards hardened into
heretical doctrine. TertulI. de PræscJ'iptione Hær. c. xxxiii. Paulus in
Imâ ad Corinthios notat negatores et dubitatores resurrectionis. Hæc
opinio propria Sadducæorum: partem ejus usurpat Marcion et ApelIes, et
Valentinus et si qui alii resurrectionem carnis infringunt-æque tangit eos
qui diceren
factam jam resurrection em : id de se Valentini adseverant.

The J{alional Church.

165

visions and heresies 'v ere to be ll1arked and avoided
but not expelled, and if any called a brother were
a notoriously imlnoral person, the rest were enjoined,
no not to eat ,vith hin1, but he ,vas not to be refused
the name of brother or Christian. (I Cor. v. I I .)
It ,vould be difficult to devise a description of a
multitudinist Church, exhibiting more saliently the
,vorst defects ,vhich can attend that forn1, than this
which is taken fron1 the evidence of the Apostolic
Epistles. vVe find the Pauline Churches to have
comprised, not only persons of the truest doctrinal in-
sight, of the highest spiritual attainluents, of martyr-
like self-devotion, but of the strangest and most in-
congruous beliefs, and of the most unequal and incon-
sistent practice. The. individualist could say nothing
more derogatory of any multitudinist Church, not
even of a national one; unless, perhaps, he n1ight say
this, that less distinction is n1ade ,vithin such a
Church itself, and ,vithin all modern Churches, be-
t\veen their better and worse members, than ,vas made
in the Apostolic Churches. Any judicial sentence of
excommunication was extremely rare in the Apostolic
age,
s ,ve have seen, and the distinction bet\veen the
worthy and un,vorthy n1embers of the Church ,vas to
be marked, not by any public and authoritative act,
but by the operation of private conduct and opinion.
The Apostolic Churehes ,vere thus multitudinist, and
ther early tended to become National Churches; froin
the first they took collective nan1es from the localities
,vhere they were situate. And it was natural
and proper they should, except upon the Calvinistic
theory of conversion. There is some sho,v of reason-
able independence, some appearance of applying the
Protestant liberty of private judgment, in n1aintaining
the Christian unla,vfulness of the union of Church and
State, corruption of national establishments, and like
propositions. But it ,vill be found, that ,,
here they
are maintained by serious and religious people, they

166 Séances IIistoriques de Genève.
are parts of a Calvinistic systen1, and are held in con-
nexion '\vith peculiar theories of grace, immediate
conversion, and arbitrary call. It is as merely a Calvin-
istic and Congregational c0111monplace to speak of the
unholy union of Church and State accon1plished by
Constantine, as it is a Ron1ish commonplace to
denounce the unholy schism accomplished by Henry
the Eighth. But in faet bot.h those sovereigns only
carried out, chiefly for their o,vn purposes, that which
,vas already in prepåration by the course of events;
even Henry ,,,,"ould not have broken with the Pope it
he had not seen the public mind to be in some degree
ripe for it, nor ,vould Constantine have taken the first
steps to,vards an establishment of Christianity, unless
the empire had already been gro,ving Christian.
Unhappily, together ,vitll his inauguration of Multi-
tudinism, Constantine also inaugurated a principle
essential1y at variance ,vith it, the principle of
doctrinallin1itation. It is very customary to attribute
the neces
ity of stricter definitions of the Christian
creed froln tin1e to time to the rise of successive
heresies. More correctly, there succeeded to the
fluid state of Christian opinion in the first century
after Christ, a gradual hardening and systematizing
of conflicting views; and the opportunity of reverting
to the freedom of the Apostolic and in1lnediately suc-
ceeding periods, ,vas finally lost for many ages by the
sanction given by Constantine to the decisions of
Nicæa. "\\T e cannot no,v be very good judges, ,vhether
it would have been possible, together ,vith the esta-
blishment of Christianity as the in1perial religion, to en-
force forbearance between the great antagonisms which
were then in dispute, and to have insisted on the maxÏ1n,
that neitherhad a right to limit the common Christianity
to the exclusion of the other. At all events a princi-
ple at variance '\vith a true
lultitudinism ,vas then
recognised. All parties it must be acknowledged
were equally exclusive. And exclusion and definition

1'he National Church.

167

have since been the rule for almost all Churches, more
or less, even when others of their principles nlight
seeln to promise a greater freedom.
That the members of a Calvinistic Church, as in the
Geneva of Calvin and Beza,or in the Church of Scotland,
should coincide "rith the 111en1bers of the State-that
, election' and' effectual call' should be hereditary, is, of
course, too absurd to suppose; and the congregational
Calvinists are more consistent than the Calvinists of
Established Churches. Of Calvinisnl, as a system of
doctrine, it is not here proposed to say anything,
except, that it must of necessity be hostile to every
other creed; and the members of a Calvinistic Church
can never consider themselves but as parted by an in..
superable distinction from all other professors of the
Gospel; they cannot stand on a common footing, in
any spiritual nlatter, with those ,vho belong to the
world, that is, ,,
ith all others than thenlselves. The
exclusiveness of a nlultitudinist Church, ,vhich makes,
as yet, the ecclesiastical creeds the ternlS of its conl-
11lunion, may cease 'v hen that test or liulitation is
repealed. But the exclusiveness of a Calvinistic
Church, whether free from the creeds or not, is in-
herent in its principles. There is no insuperable
barrier between Congregationalists not being Cal-
vinists, and a multitudinist Church ,vhich should
liberate itself sufficiently from the traditional syn1bols.
Doctrinal limitations in the multitudinist form of
Church are not essential to it; upon larger kno,vledge
of Christian history, upon a more thorough acquaint-
ance \\Tith the mental constitution of man, upon an
understanding of the obstacles they present to a true
Catholicity, they nlay be cast off. N or is a lTIulti-

udinist Church necessarily or essentially hierarchical,
III any extreme or superstitious sense; it can 'v ell
adnlit, if not pure congregationalis111, a large admix-
ture of the congregational spirit. Indeed, a com-
bination of the t,vo principles will alone keep any

168 Séances Historiques de Genève.
Churc}l in health aud vigour. Too great importance
attached to a hierarchical order will lead into supersti-
tions respecting A postolical succession, nlinisterial
illumination, supernatural sacramental influence; mere
congregationalism tends to keep ministers and people
at a dead spiritual level. A just recognition and
balance of the two tendencies, allows the emerging of
the nlost eminent of the congregation into offices for
,,,,hic11 they are suited; so that neither are the true
hierarchs and leaders of thought and manners dra\vn
do\vn and made to succumb to a mere delnocracy, nor
those clothed in the priests' robe ,vho have no true
unction from above. And this just balance bet\veen the
hierarchy and the congregation \vould be at least as
attainable in the national form of Church as in any
other, if it were free from dogmatical tests and sÎ1nilar
intellectual bondage. But there are some prejudices
against Nationalism which deserve to be farther con-
sidered.
It ,vas natural for a Christian in the earliest
period to look upon the heathen State in 'v hich he
found hilllself as if it belonged to the kingdom of
Satan and not to that of God; and consecrated as it
,vas, in all its offices, to the heathen divinities, to
consider it a society having its origin from the po\vers
of darkness, not from the Lord of light and life. In
the Apostolic \vriters this vie,v appears rather in the
First Epistle of St. John than with St. Paul. The
horizon which St. John's view embraced was n1uch
narrower than St. Paul's;

Qui mores hominum multorum vidit et urbes.

If the love felt and inculcated by St. John to\vards
the brethren was the more intense, tIle charity with
which St. Paul comprehended all men \vas the more
ample; and it is not from every point of view we
should describe St. John as pre-eminently the Apostle
of love. 'Vith St. John, 'the \vhole ,vorld lieth in

The National Church.

169

wickedness,' while St. Paul exhorts 'prayers and sup-
plications to be made for all men, for kings, and for all
that are in authority.' Taking a wide view of the world
and its history, ,ve must ackno\vledgepolitical constitu-
tions of men to be the work of God Himself; they are
organizations into ,vhich human society grows by
reason of the properties of the elements which generate
it. But the prin1iti ve Christians could scarce] y be ex-
pected to see, that ultimately the Gospel ,vas to have
s\vay in doing more perfectly that which the heathen
religions were doing imperfectly; that its office should
be, not only to quicken the spirit of the individual and
to confirln his future hopes, but to sanctify all social
relations and civil institutions, and to enter into the
marro,v of the national life ; ,vhereas heathenisnl had
on! y decorated the surface of it.
Heathendonl had its national Churches. Indeed,
the existence of Hz national Church is not only a per-
missible thing, but is necessary to the conlpletion of
a national life, and has sho,vn itself in all nations,
,vhen they have made any advance in civilization. It
has been usual, but erroneous, to style the J e\vish con-
stitution a theocracy in a peculiar and exclusive sense,
as if the cOlnbination of the religious and civil life
had been confined to that people. Even alnong bar-
barous tribes the fetish-man establishes an authority
ov'er the rest, quite as luuch from the yearning of others
after guidance as froln his O\Vll superior cunning.
Priesthoods have always been products. Priests have
neither been, as SOlne ,vould represent., a set of delibe-
rate conspirators against the free thoughts of man-
kind; nor, on the other hand, have they been the sole
divinely commissioned channels for communication of
spiritual truth. If all priests and ministers of religion
could at one mon1ent be s,vept from the face of the
earth, they \vould soon be reproduced. If the human
race, or a given people-and a recent generation
sa,v an instance of something like it in no distant

170

The National Ohurch.

nation-were resolved into its elements, and all its
social and religious institutions shattered to pieces,
it would reconstruct a political framework, and
a spiritual organization, re-constituting governors,
la,vs, and magistrates, educators, and ministers of
religion.
The distinction bet,veen the J e,vish people and the
other nations, in respect of this so-called theocracy,
is but feebly marked on both sides. For the religious
element ,vas much stronger than has been supposed
in other nationalities, and the priesthood was by no
means supreme in the Hebre,v State. 1
Constantly the title occurs in the Hebrew Scrip-
tures, of 'the Lord's people,' ,vith appeals to J eho-
vah as their Supreme Governor, Protector, and Judge.
And so it is with polytheistic nations; they are the
offspring of the gods; the deities are their guides and
guardians, the authors of their laws and customs;
their worship is inter,voven ,vith the whole course of
political and social life. It ,viII of course be said, the
entire difference is no more than this-the object of
worship in the one case ,vas the true God, in the other

1 Previous to the time of the divided kingdom, the Jewish history pre-
sents little which is thoroughly reliable. The taking of Jeru
alem by
'Shishak' is for the Hebrew history that which the sacking of Rome by
the Gauls is for the Roman. And from no facts ascertainable is it possible
to infer there was any early period during which the Government by
the priesthood was attended with success. Indeed the greater pro-
bability seems on the side of the supposition, that the priesthood, with
its distinct offices and charge, was constituted by Royalty, and that the
higher pretensions of the priests were not advanced till the reign of Josiah.
There is no evidence of the priesthood ever having claimed a supremacy
over the kings, as if it had been in possession of an oracular power; in
the earlier monarchy the kings offer sacrifice, and the rudiments of a
political and religious organization, which prevailed in the period of the
J udge
, cannot be appealed to as pre-eminently a theocracy. At any rate,
nothing could be more unsucce3sful, as a government, whatever it might
be called. Indeed, the theory of the Jewish theocracy, seems built chiefly
upon some expres
ions in I Sam. viii., xii. Samuel, however, with whose go-
vernment the Israelites were di8
atisfied, was not a priest but a prophet;
and the whole of that part of the narrative is conceived in the prophe-
tical, not in the priestly intere
t. _

The JYational Church.

171

cases idols or denlons. But it is very clear to un-
prejudiced persons, that the conceptions ,vhich the
Hebre,vs formed of Jehovah, though far superior to
the conceptions en1bodied in any other national reli-
gion, ,vere obscured by figurative representations of
HillI in accordance ,vith the charactpr of His ,vorship-
pers. The passions ascribed to Hin1 ,vere not those
l1l0st base and degrading ones attributed to their deities
by the pagans; and on that account it has been less easy
to separate the figurative description froln the true idea
of IIim. The better pagans could easily perceive the
stories of their gods to have been, at the best,. alle-
gories, poetical elnbellishments, inventions of some
kind or other. J e,vs did not perceive, that the attri-
bution of ,vrath and jealousy to their God could only
be by a figure of speech; and ,vhat, is ,vorse, it is diffi-
cult to persuade nlany Christians of the same thing,
and solemn inferences from the figurative expressions
of the Hebre,v literature have been crystallized into
Christian doctrine.
All things sanctioned among the Jews are certainly
not to be ilnitated by us, nor all pagan institutions to
be abhorred. In respect of a State religion, Jew and
Gentile were more alike than has been thought. All
nations haye exhibited, in some forTI1 or another, the
development of a public religion, and have done so by
reason of tendencies inherent in their nationality.
The particular forIn of the religion has been due to
various causes. Also in periods of transition there
,vould, for a tinIe, be a breaking in upon this feature
of national life. 'Vhile prophets, philosophers, re-
formers, "\vere at ,vork, or SOHle ne\v principle ""inning
its way, the national uniformity ,vonld be disturbed.
So it ,vas at the first preaching of the Gospel; St.
Paul and the Lord Jesus hin1self offered it to the
J e,vs as a nation, on the multitudinist principle; but
when they put it from thenl, it must 11lake pro-
gress by kindling a fire in the earth, even to the

172

The Ifational Church.

dividing fan1ilies, t,vo against three and three against
two. Thereupon Christians appear for a ,vhile to be
aliens from their countries and comnlon\vealt,hs, but
only for a ,vhile. We must not confound ,vitIl an
essential principle of Christianity that ,vhich only
resulted from a te1nporary necessity. The individu-
alist principle may llave been the right one for a time,
and under certain circu111stances, not consequently the
right one, under all CirCU111stances, nor even the possible
one. Tn this questIon, as in that of hierarchy, and in
various cerenlonial discussions, the appeal to a particular
primitive antiquity is only an appeal from the ,vhole
experience of Christendom to a partial experience
Iinlited to a short period. 1\Ioreover, as to the Inind of
Jesus himself ,vith respect to Nationalism it is fully
revealed in those toucIling ,vords, preserved both in
the first and third Gospels, 'Ho\v often ,vouId I have
gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth
her chickens under her ,vings, and ye would not.'
Christianity ,vas therefore compelled, as it were
against its ,viII, and in contradiction to its proper
design, to make the first steps in its progress by cut-
ting across old societies, filtering into the ,vorld by
individual conversions, sho,ving, nevertheless, fronl
the very first, its nlultitudinist tendencies; and before
it could comprehend countries or cities, embracing
families and households, the several D1embers of \vhich
must have been on very different spiritual levels (Acts
xvi. 31-34). The Ron1an world \vas penetrated in the
first instance by an individual and domestieChristianity,
to which ,vas owing the first conversion of our o\vn
country; in the second or Saxon conversion, the people
were Christianized en 'lllasse. Such conversions as this
last Inay not be thought to have been worth much, but
they were ,vorth the abolition of some of the grossness
of idolatry; they effected all of ,yhich the subjects of
them were for the time capable, and prepared the ,vay
for something better in another generation. The con-

The .Z'fatioJlal Church.

173

versions operated by the Gernlan Apostle, Boniface,
were of the sanle multitudinous kind as those of Austin
and Paulinus in Britain, and for a like reason; in both
cases the developlnent of Christianity necessarily fol-
lo,ved the fornls of the national life.
In sonle parts of the "\"\T est this national and natural
tendency ,vas counteracted by the shattering which
ensued upon the breaking up of the Ronlan empire.
And in those countries especialJy ,vhich had been
longest and most closely connected ,vith Pagan Rome,
such as Italy itself, Spain, France, the people felt
thenlselves unable to stand alone in their spiritual in-
stitutions, and ,vere glad to lean on some other prop
and centre, so far as ,vas still allo\ved them. The
Teutonic Churches were al,vays nlore free than the
Churches of the I.Jatinized peoples, though they thenl-
selves had derived their Christianity from Roman 1\Iis-
sionaries ; and among the Teutonic Churches alone has
a freedonl fronl extraneous dominion as yet established
itself. For a time even these could only adopt the
fornls of doctrine and practice ,vhich \""ere current in
other parts of the "\Vest. But those forms were neither
of the essence of a national Church, nor even of the
essence of a Christian Church. A national Church
need not, historically speaking, be Christian, nor, if it
be Chri
tian, need it be tied do,vn to particular forms
\vhich have been prevalent at certain tillles in Christen-
dom. That ,vhich is essential to a national Church is,
that it should undertake to assist the spiritual pro-
gress of the nation and of the individuals of which it
i
conlposed, in their several states and stages. Not
even a Christian Church should expect all those
,vho are brought under its influence to be, as a matter
of fact, of one and the sanle standard, but should en-
deavour to raise each according to his capacities, and
should give no occasion for a reaction against itself,
nor provoke the individualist elelnent into separatisnl.
It. ,vould do this if it submitted to define itself other-

174

The National Church.

wise than by its own nationality-if it represented
itself as a part rather than a ,vhole, as deriving autho-
rity and not claiming it, as imitative and not original.
It ,viII do this also, if \vhile the civil side of the
nation is fluid, the ecclesiastical side of it is fixed; if
thought and speech are free among all other classes,
and not free among those \vho hold the office of
leaders and teachers of the rest in the highest things;
if they are to be bound to cover up instead of
opening; and having, it is presumed, possession of
the key of kno\v ledge, are to stand at the door \vith it,
permitting no one to enter, unless by force. A
national Church may also find itself in this position,
which, perhaps, is our o,vn. Its ministers may become
isolated bet\veen two other parties-bet\veen those on
the one hand \vho dra\v fanatical inferences frolll
fornlularies and principles \vhich they themselves are
not able or are unwilling to repudiate; and on the
other, those \vho have been teulpted, in impatience of
old fetters, to follo\v free thought heedlessly wherever
it may lead theln. If our o\vn Churchmen expect to
discourage and repress a fanatical Christianity, ,vith-
out a frank appeal to reason, and a frank criticisnl of
Scripture, they ,viII find themselves '\vithout any
effectual arnlS for that com bat; or if they attel11pt
to check inquiry by tIle repetition of old fornls
and denunciations, they \vill be equally po\verless,
and run the especial risk of turning into bitter-
ness the sincerity of those \"ho should be their best
allies, as friends of truth. They should avail
thelnsel ves of the aid of all reasonable persons
for enlightening the fanatical religionist, nlaking
no reserve of any seemingly harnlless or apparently
serviceable superstitions of their o\vn; they should
also endeavour to supply to the negative theologian
SOl1le positive eleulents in Christianity, on grounds
nlore sure to hinl than the assulllption of an objective
'faith once delivered to the saints,' which he cannot

The National Church.

173

identify with the creed of any Church as yet kno\vn
to hÎ1n.
It has been nlatter of great boast within the
Church of England, in comlnon ,vith other Protestant
Churches, that it is founded upon the' \V ord of God,'
a phrase ,vhich begs n1any a question ,vhen applied to
the canonical books of the Old and New Testaments,
a phrase ,vhich is .never applied to theln by any of the
Scriptural authors, and ,vhich, according to Protestant
principles, never could be applied to them by any
sufficient authority fron1. ,vithout. In that \vhich
may be considered the pivot Article of the Church this
expression does not occur, but only 'Holy Scrip-
ture,' 'Canonical Books,' 'Old and New Testan1ents.'
It contains no declaration of the Bible being through-
out supernaturally suggested, nor any intimation as
to which portions of it ,vere owing to a special divine
illunlination, nor the slightest attempt at defining
inspiration, ,vhether mediate or immediate, \vhether
through, or beside, or overruling the natural faculties
of the subject of it,-not the least hint of the relation
bet\veen the divine and hUlnan elelnents in the com-
position of the Biblical books. Even if the Fathers
have usually considered 'canonical' as synonyn10us
with 'miraculously inspired,' there is nothing to
show that their sense of the word nlust necessarily
be applied in our o,vn sixth Article. The ,vord itself
may mean either books ruled and determined by the
Church, or regulative books; and the employment of
it in the Article hesitates between these t,vo significa-
tions. For at one time' Holy Scripture' and canoni-
cal books are those books' of whose authority never
,vas any doubt in the Church,'1 that is, they are 'de-

I This clause is taken from the 'Virtemburg Confession (1552), which
proceeds: 'H anc Scripturam credimus et confitemur esse oraculum
Spiritus Sancti, cælestibus testimoniis ita confirmatum, ut Si .Ângevus de
cælo aliud prædicaverit, anatltema sit:

176

The National Church.

termined' books; and then the other, or uncanonical
books, are described as those ,vllich 'the Church doth
not apply to establish any doctrine,' that is, they are
not 'regulative' books. And if tbe ot,her principal
Churches of the Refornlation have gone farther in de-
finition in this respect than our own, that is no rea-
son ,ve should force the silence of our Church into
unison "\vith their expressed declarations, but rather
that ,ve should rejoice in our comparative freedonl. l
The Protestant feeling anlong us has satisfied itself
in a blind ,yay "\vith the anti-Roman declaration, that
'Holy Scripture containeth all things necessary to
sal vation, so that "" hatsoever is not read therein, nor
may be proved thereby, is not to be required of any
man, that it should be believed as an article oÎ the
faith,' &c., and ,vithout reflecting ho,v very much is
'\visely left open in that Article. For this declaration
itself is partly negative and partly positive; as to its
negative part it declares that nothing-no clause of
creed, no decision of council, no tradition or exposi-
tion-is to be required to be believed on peril of salva-
tion, unless it be Scriptural; but it does not lay do,vn,
that everything \vhich is cont.ained in Scripture must
be believed on the same peril. Or it may be expressed
,thus :-the "\V ord of God is contained in Scripture,
whence it does not follo\v that it is co-extensive "\vith it.
rrhe Church to ,vhich "re belong does not put that stum-
bling-block before the feet of her members; it is their
own fault if they place it there for themselves, authors
of their own offence. Under the terms of the sixth
Article one Inay accept literally, or allegorically, or as

1 Thus the Helvetic Confession states: "V e believe and profess that
the Canonical Scriptures of the Holy Prophets and Apostles, of the Old
and New Testaments, are the very ,V ord of God, and have sufficient
authority from themselves and not from men.' The Saxon Confes
ion
refers tù the creeds as interpreters of Scripture-nos vera fide amplecti
omnia scripta Prophetarum et Apostolorum; et quidem in hac ipsa nativa
sententia, quæ expressa est in Symbolis, Apostolico, Nicæno et Atha-
nasiallo.-.De .Doct'l.ina.

The ]\ntio,zal (}hurck.

177

parable, or poetry, or legend, the story of a serpent
te1npter, of an a
s speaking \vith n1an's voice, of an
arrestino- of t,he earth's n10tion, of a reversal of its
n10tion, b of ,vaters standing in a solid heap, of ,vitches,
and a variety of apparitions. So, under the tern1s of
the sixth Article, everyone is free in judgment as to
the prin1eval institution of the Sabbath, the univer-
sality of the deluge, the confusion of tongues, the cor-
poreal taking up of Elijah into Heaven, the nature of
angels, the reality of den10niacal possession, the person-
ality of Satan, and the n1iraculous particulars of Inany
events. So the dates and authorship of the several books
received as canonical are not detern1ined by any autho-
rity, nor their relative value and importance.
l\Iany evils have flo,ved to the people of England,
other,vise free enough, fron1. an extreme and too ex-
clusive Scripturalism. The rudin1entary education of
a large number of our countrymen has been n1ainly
carried on by the reading of the Scriptures. They
are read by young children in thousands of cases,
where no attempt could be n1ade, even if it ,vere de-
sired, to acco111pany the reading with the safeguard of
a reasonable interpretation. A Protestant tradition
seems to have prevailed, unsanctioned by any of our
forlnularies, that the words of Scripture are imbued ,vith
a supernatural property, by \vhich their true sense can
reveal itself even to those ,vho, by inteUectual or edu-
cational defect, ,vonld naturally be incapable of appre-
ciating it. There is no book indeed, or collection of
books, so rich in words \vhich address then1selves in-
telligibly to the unlearned and learned alike. But those
who are able to do so ought to lead the less educated to
distinguish bet\veen the different kinds of \vords which
it contains, bet,veen the dark patches of hU111an passion
and error ,vhich form a partial crust upon it, and
the bright centre of spiritual truth ,vithin.
SOlne years ago a vehement controversy was carried
on, ,vhether the Scripture ought to be distributed in this
N

178

The lVåtiollal Church.

country with or "\vithout note and COlnment. It was
a question at i
sue between t,vo great parties and t,vo
great organized societies. But those \vho advocated
the vie,v ,vhicIl ,vas the n10re reasonable in itself, did
so in the interest of an unreasonable theory; they in-
sisted on the authority of the Church in an hierarchi..
cal sense, and carried out their COlll111entations in dry
catenas of doctrine and precept. On the other side,
the vie,vs of those ,vho ,vere for circulating the Bible
"\vithout note or COlnment \vere partly superstitious,
and partly antagonistic in the \vay of a protest
against the hierarchical claim. The Scriptures have
no doubt been received ,vith sufficient readiness by all
classes of English people, for there has been something
very agreeable to sonle of the feelings of the Englishnlan
in the persuasion that he possesses, independently of
priest or clergyman, the \vhole Jnatter of his religion
bound up in the four corners of a portable book,
furnishing hill1, as he thinks, "\vith an infallible test
of the doctrine \vhich he hears froln his preacher, \vith
a substitute for all teaching, if he so pleases, and
with tIle conlplete apparatus necessary, should he
desire to beconle the teacller of others in his turn.
But the result of this inl111enSe circulation of the
Scriptures for many years by all parties, has been
little adequate to 'v hat Illight have been expected
beforehand, from the circulation of that ,vhich is in
itself so excellent and divine.
It is ill to be deterred from giving expression to the
trutIl or froln prosecuting the investigation of it, from
a fear of nlaking concessions to revolutionary or cap-
tious dispositions. For the blame of this captiousness,
when it exists, lies in part at the door of those "Tho
ignore the difficulties of others, because they nlay not
feel any for themselves. To this want of \visdom on
the part of the defenders of old opinions is to be
attributed, that the noting of such differences as are
to be found in the Evangelical narratives, or in the

The }/åtional Church.

179

books of Kings and Chronicles, takes the appearance
of an attack upon a holy thing. The like ill consequen-
ces follow fronl not ackno\vledging freely the extent of
the hun1an elen1ent in the sacred books; for if this \vere
freely ackno,vledged on the one side, the divine elenlent
,vould be frankly recogllised on the other. Good nlen-
and they cannot be good \vithout the Spirit of God-
may err in facts, be \veak in n1el110ry, n1ingle in1agi-
nation \vith luelnory, be feeble in inferences, confound
illustration \vith argument, be varying in judgll1ent
and opinion. But the Spirit of absolute Truth cannot
err or contradict Hilll
elf,ifHe speak in1n1ediately, even
in snlall things, accessories, or accidents. Still less can
we suppose Hin1 to suggest contradictory accounts, or
accounts only to be reconciled in the \vay of hypothesiR
and conjecture. Some things indited by the Holy
Spirit may appear to relate to objects of \vhich the
whole cannot be embraced by the human intellect,
and it may not, as to such objects, be possible to
reconcile opposite sides of Divine truth. ,'Thether
this is the general character of Scripture revelations
is not no\v the question; but the theory is suppo-
sable and should be treated \yith respect, in regard to
SOlne portions of Scripture. To suppose, on the other
hand, a supernatural influence to cause the record of
that \vhich can only issue in a puzzle, is to lo\ver
infinitely our conception of the Divine dealings in
respect of a special revelation.
Thus it may be attributed to the defect of our
understandings, that \ve should be unable altogether
to reconcile the aspects of the Saviour as presented to
us in the three first Gospels, and in the \vritings of St.

aul and St. John. At any rate, there \vere eurrent
In the prinlitive Church yery distinct Christologies.
But neither to any defect in our capacities, nor to
any reasona11e presu1l1ption of a hidden \vise de
ign,
nor to any partial spiritual endo\vments in the narra-
tors, can we attribute the difficulty, if not irnpossi-
N 2

180

The J.lational Church.

bility, of reconciling the genealogies of St. J\Iattlle,v
and St. Luke, or the chronology of the Holy Week,
or the accounts of the Resurrection; nor to any
n1ystery in the subject-n1atter can be referred the
uncertainty in ,vhich the N e,v Testament ,vritings
leave us, as to the descent of Jesus Christ according
to the flesh, whether by his mother He ,vere of the
tribe of Judah, or of the tribe of Levi.
If the national Cllurch is to be true to the n1ultitu-
dinist principle, and to correspond ultin1ately to the
national character, the freedom of opinion ,vhich
belongs to the English citizen should be conceded to
the English Churchman; and the freedoln which is
ah"eady practically enjoyed þy the Inelnbers of the
congregation, cannot \vithout injustice be denied to
its n1inisters. A n1inister 111ay rightI
r be expected to
kno,v more of theology than the generality, or even
than the best inforn1ed of the laity; but it is a strange
ignoring of the constitution of human Ininds, to expect
all n1inisters, ho\veyer much they n1ay kno\v, to be of
one opinion in theoreticals, or the sanle person to be
subject to 110 variation of opinion at different periods
of his life. And it may be \vorth ,vhile to consider
110'V far a liberty of opinion is conceded by our exist-
ing la\ys, civil and ecclesiastical. Along ,vith great
openings for freedon1 it ,viII be found there are sonle
restraints, or appearances of restraints, which require
to be reu10ved.
As far as opinion privately entertained is concerned,
the liberty of the English clergyn1an appears already
to be conlplete. For no ecclesiastical person can be
obliged to answer interrogations as to his opinions,
nor be troubled for that ,vhich he has not actually
expressed, nor be nlade responsible for inferences ,,
hich
other people n1ay dra,v fron1 his expressions. l
Still, though there Inay be no po,ver of inquisition

1 The oath ex officio in the ecclesiastical law, is defined to be an oath
whereby any per
on may be obliged to make any presentment of any
crime or offence, or to confess or accuse himself or herself of any criminal
matter or thing, whereby he or she may be liable to any censure, penah:.,

The lXátional Church.

181

into the pri\Tate opinions either of ministers or people
in the Church of England, there may be some inter-
ference \yith the expression of them; and a great
restraint is supposed to be imposed upon the clergy
by reason of their subscription to the Thirty -nine
Articles. Yet it is more difficult than might be
expected, to define ,,"hat is the extent of the legal
oLligation of those ,vho sign them; and in this
case the strictly legal obligation is the ffipasure of
the moral one. Subscription n1ay be thougllt even
to be inoperative upon the conscience by reason of its
vagueness. For the act of subscription is enjoined,
but its effect or meaning nowhere plainly laid do,vn;
and it does not seem to amount to n10re than an
acceptance of the Articles of the Church as the formal
la\v to \vhich the subscriber is in some sense subject.
\Vhat that subjection amounts to, must be gathered
else\vhere, for it does not appear on the face of the
subscription itself.
The ecclesiastical authority on the subject is to be
found in the Canons of 1603, the fifth and the thirty-

or punishment whatsoever. 4 J ac. 'The lords of the council at 'Vhite-
hall demanded of Popham and Coke, chief ju
t.icrs, upon motion made by
the Commons in Parliament, in what cases the ordinary may examine any
person ex officio upon oath.' They answered-I. That the ordinary can-
not constrain any man, ecclesiastical or temporal, to swear generally to
answer such interrogations as shall be administered to him, &c. 2. That
no man, ecclesia
tical or temporal, shall be examined upon the secret
thoughts of his heart, or of his secret opinion, but something ought to be
objected against him, which he hath spoken or done. Thus 13 Jac.
Digldon and Holt were committed by the high commis3ioners because they
ùeing convented for
landerous words against the book of Common Prayer
and the government of the Church, and being tendered the oath to be ex-
Elmined, they refused. The case being brought. before the K.B. on ltabeas
corpus, Coke, C.J., gave the determination of the Court. 'That they
ought to be delivered, because their examination is made to cause them to
accuse themselves of a breach of a penal law, which is a
aillst law, for
they ought to proceed against them by witnesses, and not iniorce them to
take an oath to aCCU8e themselves.' Then by 13 Car. 2, C. 12, it was en-

ct
d,.' t
at it shall not be la\yf?l for any per
on, exercising ecclesiastical
JUl"lsdlCtIon, to tender or admullster to any person whatsoever the oath
usually called the oath ex-officio, or any other oath, whereby such person
to whom the same is t
ndered, or administered, m3.Y be charged, or com-
pelled to confess. or accuse, or to purge himself, or her8elf, of any criminal
matter or thing/ &c.-Bllrn's Ecd. Law, iii. 14, 15. Ed. Phillimore.

182

The NatioJlal Chllrc.h.

sixth. The fifth, indeed, may be applicable theoreti-
cally both to lay and to ecclesiastical persons; practically
it can only concern those of ,vhom subscription is
really required. It is entitled, hJl]Jlt[Jners of the Article8
qf Religion established in this Church C!f Þ]ngland censured.
, 'Vhosoever shall hereafter affirm, that any of the nine
and thirty articles, &c., are in any part superstitious
or erroneous, or SUC}l as he may not with a good con..
science subscribe unto, let hiln be exco111illunicated,
&c.' ,"" e need not
tay to consider what the effects of
excomnlunication might be, but rather attend to the
definition ,vhich the canon itself supplies of 'impugn-
ing.' It is stated to be the affirnlillg, that any of the
Thirty-nine Articles are in any part' superstitious or
erroneous.' Yet an Article Inay be very inexpedient,
or becolll.e so; Inay be unintelligible, or not easily
intelligible to ordinary people; it may be controversial,
and such as to provoke controversy and keep it alive
,vhen other\vise it ,vould subside; it may reyi ve un-
necessarily the remembrance of dead controversies-all
or any of these, ,vithout being , erroneous ;' and though
not 'superstitious,' some expressions may appear so,
such as those ,vhich seem to impute an occult opera-
tion to the Sacraments. The fifth canon does not
touch the affirnlÍng any of these things, and more
especially, that the Articles present truths dis..
proportionately, and relatively to ideas not no,v
current.
The otller canon ,vl}icll concerns subscription is the
thirty -sixth, ,vhich contains t,vo clauses explanatory
to some extent, of the meaning of nlinisterial sub-
scription, 'That he allolf)eth the Book of Articles, &c.'
and 'that he acknowledgeth the same to be agreeable
to the 'V ord of God.' 'Ve' allow' many things ,vhich
we do not think wise or practically useful; as the less
of t "TO evils, or an evil which cannot be remedied, or
of \vhich the remedy is not attainable, or is uncertain in
its operation, or is not in our po\ver, or concerning
which there is much difference of opinion, or where

The j\átio1lal Church.

183

the initiation of any change does not belong to our-
selves, nor the responsibility belong to ourselves,
either of the things as they are, or of seårching for
something better. l\Iany acquiesce in, submit to,
'allo\v,' a law as it operates upon then1selves ,vhich
they ,vonld be horror-struck to have enacted; yet
they ,vould gladly and in conscience, 'allo,v' and
submit to it, as part of a constitution under which
they live, against w.hich they \vould never think of
rebelling, \vhich they ,vould on no account undermine,
for the many blessings of which they are fully grate-
ful-they ,vonld be silent and patient rather than
join, even in appearance, the disturbers and breakers
of its la,vs. Secondly, he ' acknowledgeth' the same
to be agreeable to the ,V ord of God. Son1e distinc-
tions may be founded upon the ,yord 'ackno,yledge.'
He does not maintain, nor regard it as self-evident, nor
originate it as his o\vn feeling, spontaneous opinion,
or conviction; but ,vhen it is suggested to him, put
in a certain shape, ,vhen the intention of the framers
is borne in mind, their probable purpose and design
explained, together ,vith the difficulties ,vhich sur-
rounded then1, he is not prepared to contradict, and
he ackno\vledges. There is a great deal to be said,
which had not at first occurred to him; many other
1)etter and ,viser n1en than hilllself have ackno,vledged
the san1e thing-,vhy should he be obstinate? Besides,
he is young, and has plenty of time to reconsider it ;
or he is old and continues to subn1it out of habit, and
it ,,"ould be too absurd, at his time of life, to be setting
up as a Church reforn1er.
But after all, the in1portant phrase is, that the
Articles are 'agreeable to the VV ord of God.' This
cannot mean that the Articles are precisely co-ex-
tensive ,vith the Bible, n1ucb less of equal authority
,vith it as a whole. N either separately, nor alto-
gether, do they elnbody all ,vhich is said in it, and
inferences ,vhich they dra,v from it are only good
relatively and secunduJJl quid and fjuateJlus cOJlcordant.

184

The l",átional Church.

If their terms are Biblical terms, they must be pre-
sumed to have the saIne sense in the Arti
lf's ,vhich
they have in the Scripture; and if they are not all
Scriptural ones, they undertake in the pivot Article not
to contradict the Scripture. The Articles do not Inake
any assun1ption of being interpretations of Scripture
or developlllents of it The greater n1ust include the
less, and the Scripture is the greater.
On the other hand, there may be some things in
tIle Articles ,vhicll could not be contained, or have not
been contained, in the Scripture-such as propositions
or clauses concerning historical fact,s D10re recent than
the Scripture itself; for instance, that there never has
been any doubt in the Church concerning the books
of the N e\v Testal11ent. For ,yithout including such
doubts as a fool Inight have, or a very conceited per-
son, ,vithout carrying doubts founded upon 111ere cri-
ticism and internal evidence only, to such an extent
as a Baur or even an E,vald, there was a time when
certain books existed and certain others ,vere not as
yet ,vritten ;-for example, the Epistles of St. Paul
were anterior, probably to all of the Gospels, certainly
to that of St. John, and of course the Church could
not receive ,vithout doubt books not as yet composed.
But as the canon gre\v, book after book emerging into
existence and general receptioÎ1, there ,vere doubts as
to some of theIn, for a longer or shorter period, either
concerning their authorship or their authority. The
fran1ers of the Articles ,vere not deficient in learning,
and could not have been ignorant of the passages in
Eusebius ,vhere the different books current in Chris-
tendom in his tilne are classified as genuine or ackno,v-
ledged, doubtful and spuriou
. If there be an erro-
neousness in such a sta telnent, as that there never ,vas
any doubt in the Church concerning the book of the
Revelation, the Epistle to the Hebre\vs, or the second
of St. Peter, it cannot be an erroneousness in the sense
of the fifth canon, nor can it be at variance ,vith
the 'V ord of God according to the thirty -sixth. Such

The l'T a tioJlal Church.

185

things in the Articles as are beside the Scripture are
not in the conteu1plation of the canons.
Iuch less can
historical questions not even hinted at in the .Articles
be excluded fronl free discussion-such as concern the
dates and conlposition of the several books, the com-
pilation of the Pent,ateuch, the introduction of Daniel
into the J e\vish canon, and the like with some books
of the New Testanlcnt-the date and authorship, for
instance, of the fourth Gospel.
:1Iany of those who ,vould then1selves \vish the
Christian theology to run on in its old forms of ex-
pression, nevertheless deal ,vith the opinions of others,
,vhich the)T Inay think objectionable, fairly as opinions.
There will al,vays, on the other hand, be a few whose
favourite l110de of warfare it "Till be, to endeavour to
gain a victory over SOI11e particular person ,vho may
hold opinions they dislike, by entangling him in the
formularies. Nevertheless, our formularies do not
lend themselyes very easily to this kind of \varfare-
Contra /retiarÙtlJl bacltlo.
\Ve have spoken hitherto of the signification of sub.
scription ,vhich nlay be gathered fron1 the canons; there
is, also, a statute, a la,v of the land, 1vhich forbids,
under penalties, the advisedly and directly contradicting
any of them hy ecclesiastics, and requires subscription
,vith declaration of 'assent' fron1 beneficed persons.
This statute (13 Eliz. c. 12), three hundred years old,
like many other old enactn1ents, is not found to be
very applicable to modern cases; although it is only
about fifty years ago that it ,vas said by Sir "Tillianl
Scott to be in viridi oósen:alltiá. Nevertheless, its
provisions ,vould not easily be brought to bear on
questions likely to be raised in our o,vn days. The
meshes are too open for nlodern refinell1ents For
not to repeat concerning the ,vord 'assent' ,vhat
has been said concerning' allo,v' and 'ackno\vledge,'
let the Articles be taken according to an 0 bvious
classification. Fornls of expression, partly derived
froIll n10dern modes of thought on metaphysical sub.

186

The J.átiollal Church.

jects, partly suggested by a better acquaintance than
heretofore \vith the unsettled state of Christian opinion
in the immediately post-apostolic age, may be adopted
with respect to the doctrines enunciated in the five
first Articles, \vithout directly contradicting, impugn-
ing, or refusing a
sent to thenl, but passing by the
side of theIn-as \vith respect to the hunlanifying of the
Divine ,V ord and to the Divine Personalities. Then
those \vhich we have called the pivot Articles, concern-
ing the rule of faith and the sufficiency of Scripture,
are, happily, found to make no effectual provision for
an absolute unifornlity, ,vhen once the freedom of
interpretation of Scripture is admitted; they cannot.
be considered as interpreting their o\vn interpreter;
this has sometimes been called a circular proceeding;
it might be resembled to a lever beconling its o,vn
fulcrum. The Articles, again, \vhich have a Lutheran
and Calvinistic sound, are found to be equally open,
because they are, for the 1110st part, founded on the
very words of Scripture, and these, ,vhile \vorthy of
unfeigned assent, are capable of different interpreta-
tions. Indeed, the Calvinistic and Arulinian vie,vs
have been declared by a kind of authority to be both
of thenl tenable under the seventeenth ..A.rticle; and if
the Scriptural tern1S of 'election' and 'predestina-
tion' nlay be interpreted in an anti-Calvinistic sense,
'faith,' in the tenth and follo\ving Articles, need not
be understood in the Lutheran. These are instances
of legitinlate affixing different significations to terlns
in the Articles, by reason of different interpretations
of Scriptural passages.
If, ho\vever, the Articles of re1igion and the law of
the Church of England be in effect liberal, flexible, or
little stringent, is there any necessity for expressing
dissatisfaction with thenl, any sufficient provocation to
change? There may be nluch more liberty in a Church
like our own, the la\v of ,vhich is al\vays interpreted,
according to the English spirit, in tIle lllanner most

The National Church.

187

favourable to those ,vho are subject to its discipline,
than in one \v hich, \v hether free or not from Articles,
Dlight be empowered to develope doctrine and to de..
nounce ne\v heresies. Certainly the late 1\11'. Irving,
jf he had been a clergynlan of the Church of England,
could scarcely have been brought under the terms
of any ecclesiastical la\v of ours, for the expression
of opinions upon an abstruse question respecting the
hun1anity of Jesus Christ, \vhich subjected him to
degradation in the Presbyterian Church of Scotland.
And this transition state may be a state of as much
liberty as the Church of England could in any \vay
as yet have been enabled to attain, a state of greater
practical liberty than has been attained in Churches
supposed to be n10re free; it is a state of safety and
protection to t,hose \vho use it \visely, under \yhich a
farther freedon1 111 a y be prepared.
But it is not a state \vhich ought to be considered
final, either by the Church itself or by the nation.
It is very ,well for provisions \vhich cease to be easily
applicable to ITIoc1ern cases to be suffered to fall into
desuetude, but after falling into desuetude they should
be repealed. Desuetude naturally leads to repeal.
Obsolete tests are a blot upon a 1110dern sy.stem, and
there is al\vays SOlne danger lest an antiquated rule
may be unexpectedly revived for the sake of an odious
individual application; \vhen it has outlived its ge..
neral regulative po\ver, it n1ay still be a trap for the
\veaker consciences; or \vhen it has becoITIe po\verless
as to penal consequences, it l11ay serve to give a point
to invidious imputations.
And farther than this, the present apparent strin..
gency of subscription as required of the elergy of the
Church of England does not belong to it as part of its
foundation, is not even coeval \vith its reconstruction
at the period of the Refornlation. For the Canons are
of the date of 160 3, and the Act requiring the public
reading of the Thirty -nine Articles, \yith declaration

lS8

The J\"åtio'llal Church..

of assent by a beneficed person after his induction,
is the 13th Elizabeth. An enactn1ent prohibiting the
bishops fron1 requiring the su bscriptiol1s under the
third article of the thirty-sixth canon, together "\vith
the repeal of 13th Elizabeth, except as to its secoud
section, would relieve 111any scruples, and make the
Church lTIOre national, '\vit.hout disturbing its ultimate
la,v. The Articles ,vould then obviously become for
the clergy that '\vhich they are for the laity of the
Church, 'articles of.. peace, not to be contradicted
by her SOI1S,' as the wise and liberal Burnet de-
scribed them: and there is forcible practical rea-
son for leaving the Thirty-nine Articles as the
ultimate law of the Church, not to be contra-
dicted, and for confining relaxation to the abolition
of subscription.
A large portion of the Articles were originally
directed against the corruptions of the Church of Roule,
and whatever may be thought of the unadvisableness of
retaining tests to exclude opinions ,vhich fe"\v think
of reviving in their old shape, these ROlnan doctrines
and practices are seen t.o be flourishing in full life and
vigour. And considering the In any grievous provo-
cations ,vhich the people of England have suffered
from the Papacy both in ancient and 1110dern ti111es, they
,vould naturally resist any change ,vhich might by
possibility weaken the barriers bet\veen the National
Church and the eneroachulents of the Churell of Ron1e.
I t is evident, moreover, that the act of signature to the
Thirty-nine Articles contributes nothing to the exclu-
sion from the Church of Romish vie,vs. For, as it is,
opinions and practices prevail among some of the clergy,
which are extren1ely distasteful to the generality of
the people, hy reason of their R0111ish character.
Those of the Articles whicll conden1n the J10mish
errors, cannot thenlselves be lllade so stringent as to
bar altogether the intrusion of some opinion of a
Roman tone, "\vhich the Reformers, if they could have
foreseen it, nlight have desired to exclude, and ,vhich

.The l\Taf'ional Ckllrcn.

189

is equally strange and repugnant to the common sense
of the nation. No act of subscription can supply
this defect of stringency in the formulas themselves.
N O"T it ,vould be inlpossible to secure the ad vantages
of freedom in one direction ,vithout making it equal
as far as it goes. "\Ve must endeavour to liberate
ourselves fron1 the dominion of an unwise and really

nchristi
n principle ,vith the fe,vest possible risks and
InconvenIences.
Considering therefore the practical difficulties which
would beset any change, and especially those ,vhich
,vould attend, either the excepting of the anti-Romisll
Articles from repeal or including thenl in it; any
atten1pt at a relaxation of the clerical test should
prudently confine itself in our generation, to an aboli-
tion of the act of subscription, leaving the Articles
themselves protected by the second section of the
Statute of Elizabeth anù by the canons, against direct
contradiction or inlpugning.
For, the act of subscription being abolished, there
,vauld disappear the in vidious distinction bet,veen
the clergy and laity of the same cOlumunion, as if
there \vere separate standards for each of belief and
morals. There ,vould disappear also a semblance of
a promissory oath on a
ubject ,vhich a pro111ise
is incapable of reaching. No promise can reach
fluctuations of opinion and personal conviction. Open
teaching can, it is true, if it be thought wise, be
dealt ,vith by the la,v and its penalties; but the Ia,v
should content itself \vith saying, you shall not
teach or proclainl in derogation of n1Y formularies;
it should not require any act ,vhich appears to
signify 'I think.' Let the security be either the
penal or the nloral one, not a conlnlingling of the
t\vo. It happens continually, that able and sincere
persons are deterred from entering the ministry of
the national Church by this consideration; they
,yould be ,vining to be subject to the la,v forbidding
them to teach Arianism or Pelagianism - as what

190

17te l\
atiollal Church.

sensible man in our day would desire to teach then1 ?
- but they do. not like to say, or be thought to
say, that they assent to a certain number of anti-
Arian and anti-Pelagian propositions. And the absence
of vigorous tone-not confined to one party in the
Church, ,vhich is to be lamented of late years in its
ministry, is to be attributed to the reluctance of the
stronger minds t.o enter an Order in ,vhich their intel-
lects may not have free play. The very course of
preparation for ordination, tied down as it is in one
department to the study of the Articles, ,vhich must
perforce be proved consent.aneous to the "V ord of God'
according to SOlne, and to 'Catholic antiquity' according
to ot,hers, ]Ias an enervating effect upon the Inind,
which is compelled to enlbrace much scholastic matter,
not as a history of doctrine, but as a system of truth
of which it ought to be convinced.
It nlay be easy to urge invidiously, ,vith respect to
the inlpediments no,v existing to undertaking office
in the national Church, that there are other sects,
,vhich persons dissatisfied ,,'"ith her formularies may
join, and ,v]lere they may find scope for their activity
with little intellectual bondage. Nothing can be said
llere, ,vhetller or not there might be else,vhere bondage
at least as galling, of a similar or another kind. But
the service of the national Church may ,veIl be re-
garded in a different light fronl the service of a spct.
It is as properly an organ of the national life as a
magistracy, or a legislative estate. r
ro set harriers
before the entrance upon its fhnctions, by limitations
not absolutely required by public policy, is to infi.inge
upon the birthright of the citizens. And to lay do,vn
as an alternative to striving for nlore liberty of thought
and expression ,yithin the Church of the nation, that
those ,vho are dissatisfied may sever thenlselves and
join a sect, ,yould be paralleled by declaring to poli-
tical refOfll1erS, that they are ,velcoDle to expatriate
themselves, if they desire any change in the existing

17te l.Vational Church.

191

fornls of the constitution. The suggestion of the
alternative is an insult; if it could be enforced, it ,vould
be a grievous ,vrong. ..
There is another part of the subject whIch may
be slio-htly touched upon in this place - that of
the e
do,vment of the national Church. This was
,veIl described by
lr. Coleridge as the N ationalty.
In a certain sense, indeed, the nation or state is lord
paramount over all the property ,vithin its boun-
daries. But it provides for the usufruct of the pro-
perty in t,vo different ,vays. The usufruct of private
property, as it is called, descends, according to our
laws, by inheritance or testanlentary disposition, and
no specific services are attached to its enjoyment.
The usufruct of that which Coleridge called the
N ationalty circulates freely among all the fanlilies of
the nation. The enjo)
ment of it is subject to the
performance of special services, is attainable only by
the possession of certain qualifications. In accordance
with the strong tendency in England to turn every
interest into a right of so-called private property, the
nominations to the benefices of the national Church
have come, by an abuse, to be regarded as part of the
estates of patrons, instead of trusts, as they really are.
No trustee of any analogous property, of a granllnar-
school for instance, ,vouid think of selling his right of
appointment; he ,vould consider t,he proper exercise of
the trust his duty; much less would any court of la,v
ackno\vledge that a beneficial interest in the trust pro-
perty \vas an asset belonging to the estate of the trustee.
If the nomination to the place of a schoolmaster ought
to be considered as purely fiduciary, much more should
the nomination of a spiritual person to his parochial
charge. Objections are Inade against our own national
Church founded upon these anonlalies, \vhich may in
time be rectified. Others are made against the very
principle of endowment.
It is said, that a fixed support of the minister

192

The l\ál'ioJlal Church.

tends to paralyse botll him and his people-making
him independent of his congregation, and drying up
their liberality. It would be difficult, perhaps, to say
,vhich ,vould be the greater evil, for a minister to be
in all things independent of his people, or in all things
dependent upon them. But the endowed minister is
by no means independent of all restraints, as, for
instance, of the la\v of his Church and, ,vhich is much
1110re, of public opinion, especially of the opinion of his
own people. The unendo\ved minister is dependent
in all things, both upon the opinion of his people and
upon their li1erality; and frequent complaints tran-
spire among N onconfornlists of the ,yant of some
greater fixity in the position and sustentation of their
lllinisters. In the case of a nationally endo\ved Church,
the people thenlselves contribute little or nothing to
its support. The Church of England is said to be the
richest Churcll in Europe, ,vhich is probably not true;
but its people contribute less to its support than the
melnbers of any other Church in Christendom, \vhether
established or voluntary. And if the contributing
personally to tIle support of the ministry were the
only forlH ,vhicll Christian liberality could take, the
stopping up the outflo\v of it would be an incalculable
evil. But it is not so; there are a multitude of other
objects, even thougll the principal minister in a parish
or other locality were sufficiently provided for, to give
an outlet for Christian liberality. It nlay flow over
from more favourrd localities ,vhere Churches are
sufficiently endowed, into nlore destitute districts and
into distant lands. This is so ,vith ourselves; and
those ,vho are faIl1iliar ,vith the statistics of the nume-
rous voluntary societies in England for Christian and
philanthropic purposes, kno"\v to ho\v great an extent
the bulk of the support they meet ,vith is derived
froin the contributions of churcl1men. There is reason
to think on the other hand, that the Ineans and \villing-
ness to give on the part of nonconforming congrega-

The 1\ ational Church.

193

tions are already nlainly exhausted in nlaking provision
for their nlinisters.
Reverting to the general interest in the iYafionalf;y,
it is evidently t\vofold. First, in the free circulation
of a certain portion of the real property of the country,
inherited not by blood, nor through the accident of birth,
but bJ merit and in requital for cerLain performances.
It evidently belongs to the popular interest, that this
circulation should be free fronl all unnecessary liuli-
tations and restraints-speculative, antiquarian, anù
the like, and be regulated, as far as attainable, by fitness
and capacity for a particular public service. Thus
by means of the national enc10'V111ent there ,vauld
take place a distribution of property to every family
in the country, uJzencu}}zóered by fa?Jzily provisioJls
at each Sltcces8ion-a distribution in like In anneI' of the
best kind of education, of ,vhich the effects ,vould not
be ,vorn out in one or t,vo generations. The Church
theoretically is the most popular, it might be said, the
nlost democratic of all our institutions; its lninisters-
as a spiritual magistracy-true tribunes of the people.
Secondly, the general interest in the .1Våtionalfy as the
nlaterial means ,vhereby the highest services are
obtained for the general good, requires, that no arti-
ficial discouragements should linlÎt the nUlIlber of those
,vho other,vise ,vonld be enabled to beconle candidates
for the service of the Church-that nothing sho.uld pre-
vent the choice and recruiting of the Church nlinisters
froln the ,vhole of the citizens. As a matter of fact
,ve find that nearly one-half of our population are at
present more or less alienated fronl the communion of
the national Church, and do not, therefore, supply
candidates for its nlinistry. Instead of securing the
excellences and highest attainnlent
froln the ,,
hole
of the people, it secures them, by means of the national
reserve, only fronl one-half; the rest are either not
dra\rn up into the ChTistian ministry at all, or under.
take it in connexion ,vith schisnlatical bodies, '\yith as
o

194

The National ChuTch.

111UC}1 det.riment to the national unity, as to the
ecclesiastical.
We all know how the inward moral life-or spiritual
life on its moral side, if that term be preferred-is
nourished into greater or less vigour by nleans of the
conditions in which the moral subject is placed. Hence,
if a nation is really worthy of the name, conscious of
its own corporate life, it will develop itself on one side
into a Church, wherein its citizens may grow up and
be perfected in their spiritual nature. If there is
within it a consciousness that as a nation it is fulfilling
no unimportant office in the world, and is, under the
order of Providence, an instrument in giving the
victory to good over evil and to happiness over nlisery,
it ,viII not content itself ,vith the rough adjustments
and rude lessons of la,v and police, but will thro,v its
elenlents, or the best of them, into another lllould, and
constitute out of them a society, ,yhich is in it, though
in some sense not of it-which is another, yet the saIne.
That each one born into the nation is, together ,vith
his civil rights, born into a membership or privilege,
as belonging to a spiritual society, places him at once
in a relation which must tell powerfully upon his
spiritual nature. For the sake of the reaction upon
its o,vn merely secular interests, the nation is entitled to
provide from time to time, that the Church teaching and
forms of one age do not traditionally harden, so as to
become exclusive barriers in a subsequent one, and so
the moral growtl1 of those who are committed to the
hands of the Church be checked, or its influences con-
fined to a comparativ"ely fe,v. And the objects of the
care of the State and of the Church will nearly co-
incide; for the former desires all its people to be
brought under the improving influence, and the latter
is ,villing to embrace all who have even the rudiments
of the moral life.
And if the objects of the care of each nearly coincide,
,vhen the office of the Church is properly understood,

The Na lional Church.

195

so errors and mistakes in defining Church-membership,
or in constituting a repulsive mode of Church teaclÚng,
are fatal to the purposes both of Church and State alike.
It is a great n1isrepresentation to exhibit the State
as allying itself ,vith one out of many sects-a mis-
representation, the blame of which does not rest ,vholly
,vith political persons, nor with the partisans of sects
adverse to that ,vhich is supposed to be unduly pre-
ferred. I t cannot concern a State to develop as part
of its own organization a machinery or system of
relations founded on the possession of speculati ve
truth. Speculative doctrines should be left to philo-
sophical schools. A national Church must be concerned
with the ethical developlnent of its men1bers. And
the ,vrong of supposing it to be other\vise, is partici-
pated by those of the clericalty,vho consider the Church
of Christ to be founded, as a society, on the possession
of an abstractedly true and supernaturally comnluni-
cated speculation concerning G.od, rather than upon
the manifestation of a divine life in man.
It has ofte
been made nlatter of reproach to
the heathen State religion
, that they took little
concern in
the 1110ral life of the citizens. 1'0 a
certain extent this is
rue, for the heathens of cla
-
sical history had not generally the same conceptions 0 f
morals as ,ve have. But as far as their conceptions
of morals reached, their Church and St.ate were
mutually bound together, not by a material alliance,
nor by a gross compact of pay and prefern1ent
passing bet,veen the ci viI society and the priest-
hood, but by the penetrating of the 'v hole public
and domestic life of the nation ,vith a religious
sentiment. All the social relations were consecrated
by the feeling of their being entered into and carried
on under the sanction-under the very impulse 01
Deity. Treaties and boundaries, buying and selling,
ularrying, judging, deliberating on affairs of Statp,
spectacles and all popular amusements, ,vere under the
o 2

196

The j,TatioJlal (}hurch.

protection of Divinity; all life ,vas a worship. It can
very "Tell be understood ho,v philosophers should be
esteelned atheists, ,yhen they began to speculate upon
origins, causes, abstract being, and the like.
Certainly the sense of the individual conscience was
not sufficiently developed under those old religions.
'fheir observances, once penetrated with a feeling of
present Deity, be caIne, in course of tilDe, n1ere dry and
superstitious forms. But the glory of the Gospel
"vould only be partial and one-sided, if, ,vhile quicken-
ing the individual conscience and the expectation of
individual i111IDortality, it had no spirit to quicken the
national life. An isolated salvation, tlle rescuing of
one's self, the reward, the grace besto,ved on one's own
labours, the undisturbed repose, the cro,vn of glory in
,vhich so many haye no share, the finality of the
bentence on both hands-reflections on such expecta-
tions as these 111ay lllake stubborn nlartyrs and sour
professors, but not good citizens; rather tend to unfit
111en for this ,vorld, and in so doing prepare then1 very
ill for that ,vhich is to come.
But in order to the possibility of recruiting any
national ministry from the ,vhole of the nation, in
order to tIle operation upon the nation at large of the
Rpecial functions of its Church, no needless intellectual
or speculative obstacles should be interposed. It is
not to be expected that terms of communion could
be made so large, as by any possibility to comprehend
in the national Church the ,vhole of such a free nation
as our own. There ,viII always be those ,vho, frolll
a conscientious scruple, or from a desire to define, or
from peculiarities of t,elllper, "Till hold aloof fronl the
l'"eligion and the ,vorship of the nlajority; and it is not
<lesirable that it should be other\vise, so long as the na-
tional unity and the lnoralactioll of society are not there-
by sericusly impaired. No doubt, speaking politically,
and regarding merely the peacefulness with \vhich the
111achinery of ordinary executive governnlent can be car-
ried on, it has proved very advantageous to the State,

The iVatiollol Church.

197

that an Established Church has existed in this country,
to receive the shafts ,vhich other\vise n1ight have been
directea against itself. Ill-humour has evaporated
harlnlessly in Dissent, which might other,vise have
n1aterially deranged the body politic; and village
lIau1pclens have acquired a parochial reno,vn, sufficient
to satisfy their aUlbition, in resistance to a Church..
v
rate, ,vhose restlessness nlight have urged them to
dispute, even to prison and spoiling of their goods,
the lawfulness of a war-tax. But ,vhatever root of
conscientiousness and truth-seeking there has been
in non. confornlity, ,vhatever anlount of indirect
good is produced by the emulation of the different
religious bodies, ,vhatever safety to social order by the
escapement for temper so provided-the moral influence
of the better people in their several neighbourhoods is
neutralized or lost for ,vant of harmony and concentra-
tion, ,vhen the alienation from the national Church
reaches the extent \v hich it has done in our country.
Even in the more rptired localities, industry, cleanliness,
decency in the hon1es of the poor, school discipline
and truthfulness, are encouraged far less than they
nlÎght other,vise be, by reason of the absence of
religious unanilnity in the superior classes. And if
the points of speculation and of forin ,vhich separate
Dissenters fronl the Church of England ,vere far more
illlport.ant than they are, and the approximative truth
preponderatingly upon the side of Dissent, it ,voulcl do
infinitely nlore harm by the dissension ,vhich it creates,
than it possibly could accomplish of good, by a greater
correctness in doctrine and ecclesiastical constitution.
If this statement concerns Dissent itself on one side,
it concerns the Church on the other, or rather those
,vho so linlit the terms of its conlmunion as to pro-
voke, and-as human beings are constituted-to
necessitate separation froln it. It is stated by Neal,!
that if the alterations in the Prayer-book, reCOnl1TIended

1 Hist. Pur. iv. p. 618.

198

The l\átional Church.

by the Conlnlissioners of 1689 had been adopted, it
,vonld 'in all probability have brought in three parts
in four of the Dissenters.' No such result could be
expected fronl any 'anlendments' or' concessions' no,v.
lVluch less could anything be hoped for, by nleans of a
, Conference.' But it concerns the State, on the
highest grounds of public policy, to rectify, as far as
])ossible, the mistakes committed in forll1er times by
itself or by the Church under its sanction; and ,vith-
out ainling at an universal comprehension, ,vhich
,vould be Utopian, to suffer the perpetuation of no
unnecessary barriers excluding from the comnlunion
or the Ininistry of the national Church.
There are, nloreover, besides those ,vho have joined
the ranks of Dissent, many others holding aloof fronl
t.he Church of Enghl
nd, by reason of its real or sup-
posed dogmatism-,vhose co-operation in its true ,vork
,,'"ould be most valuable to it-and ,vho cannot become
utterly estranged fronl it, ,vithout its losing ultimately
its popular influence and its national character. If
those who distinguisl1 themselves in science and
literature cannot, in a scientific and literary age, be
effectual1y and cordially attached to the Church of
their nation, they must sooner or later be driven into
a position of hostility to it. They may be as indis-
posed to the teaching of the majority of Dissenters as
to that which tlley conceive to be the teaching of the
Church; but the Church, as an organization, will of
necessity appear to be the most damaged by a scientific
criticism of a supposed Christianity common to it with
other bodies. Thlany personal and social bonds have
retarded hitherto an issue which from time to tÍ1ne
has threatened a controversy bet\veen our science and
our theology. It ,vould be a deplorable day, ,vhen the
greatest nanles on either side should be found in con..
flict; and theology should only learn to acknowledge,
after adefeat, that there are no irreconcileable differences
bet\veen itself and its opponents.

The Ifåtional Church.

199

It is sometImes said \vith a sneer, that the scientific
n1en and the men of abstractions \viH never change
the religions of the world; and yet Christianity ha"
certainly been very different fron1 what it ,,,"ould
have been \vithout the philosophies of a Plato and
- an Aristotle; and a Bacon and a N e\vton exercise
an influence upon the Biblical tbeology of English-
ll1en. They have modified, though they have not
Dlade it. The more diffused science of the present
day will farther modify it. And the question seems
to narro\v itself to this-How can those who differ
fron1 each other intellectually in such variety of
degrees as our more educated and our less educated
classes, be comprised under the same formularies
of one national Church-be supposed to folIo,,"
thenl, assent to them, appropriate them, in one
spirit? If such formularies embodied only an ethical
result addressed to the individual and to society, the
speculativø difficulty \vould not arise. But a
they
present a fair and substantial representation of the
Biblical records, incorporating their letter and pre-
supposing their historical elelllent, precisely the saIne
problem is presented to us intellectually, as English
Churchnlen or as Biblical Christians.
It does not seem to be contradicted, that when
Church formularies adopt the words of Scripture, these
lllUSt have the sanle meaning, and be subject to the
same questions, in the formularies, as in th.e Scripture.
And \ve may go some\vbat farther and say, that the
historical parts of the Bible, when referred to or pre-
suppose(l in the forInularies, have the same value in
thenl \vhich they have in their original seat; and this
vallie ll1ay consist, rather in their significance, in the
ideas \v hich they awaken, than in the scenes thenlsel yes
which they depict. And as Churchmen, or as Christians,
\ve may vary as to their value in particulars-that is,
as to the extent of thl3 verbal accuracy of a history, or
of its spiritual significance, ,,"ithout breaking \vith our

200

The J.Tational Church.

con1munion, or denying our sacred name. These
varieties ,viII be determined partly by the peculiarities
of men's mental constitution, partly by the nature of
their education, circumstances, and special studies.
..A_nd neither should the idealist conden1n the literalist,
nor the literalist assun1e the right of excomn1unicating
the idealist. They are really fed with the same truths;
the literalist unconsciously, the idealist with reflection.
:N either can justly say of the other that he under-
values the Sacred 'Vritings, or that he holds them as
inspired less properly than himself.
The application of ideology to the interpretation of
Scripture, to the doctrines of Christianity, to the
forn1ularies of the Church, may undoubtedly be cal'..
ried to an excess-may be pushed so far as to leave in
the sacred records no historical residue \vhatever. On
the other side, there is the excess of a dull and un..
painstaking acquiescence, satisfied with accepting in
an unquestioning spirit, and as if they were literally
facts, all particulars of a \vonderful history, because in
son1e sense it is fron1 God. Bet\veen these extremes lie
infinite degrees of rational and irrational interpretation.
It \vill be observed that the ideal method is appli-
cable in t\VO "rays; both to giving account of the
origin of parts of Scripture, and also in explanation
of Scripture. It is thus either critical or exegetical.
..A_n example of the critical ideology carried to excess
is that of Strauss, 'v hich resolves into an ideal the
,vhole of the historical and doctrinal person of Jesus;
so again, n1uch of the allegorizing of Philo and
Origen is an exegetical ideology, exaggerated and wild.
But it by no means follo\vs, because Strauss has sub..
stituted a n1ere shadow for the Jesus of the Evangelists,
and has frequently descended to a rninute captiousness
in details, that there are not traits in the scriptural
person of Jesus, \v hich are better eXplained by referring
them to an ideal than an historical o}'igin : and \vithout
falling into fanciful exegetics, there are parts of Scrip-

The !\rational Church.

201

ture more usefully interpreted ideologically than in
any other nlanner-as, for instance, the history of
the temptation of Jesus by Satan, and accounts of
demoniacal possessions. And liberty must be left to
all as to the extent in which they apply the principle,
for there is no authority, through the expressed deter-
nlination of the Church, nor of any other kind, ,vhich
can define the limits ,vithin which it n1ay be reasonably
exercised.
Thus some may consider the descent of all mankind
from Adam and Eve as an undoubted historical fact;
others may rather perceive in that relation a form of
narrative, into which in early ages tradition ,vould
easily throw itself spontaneously. Each race naturally
-necessarily, when races are isolated-supposes itself
to be sprung fronl a single pair, and to be the first, or
the only one, of races. Among a particular people this
historical representation became the concrete expression
of a great moral truth-of the brotherhood of all
human beings, of their community, as in other things,
so also in suffering and in frailty, in physical pains
and in n10ral ' corruption.' And the force, grandeur,
and reality of these ideas are not a whit inlpaired in
the abstract, nor indeed the truth of the concrete his-
tory as their representation, even though nlankind
should have been placed upon the earth in many pairs
at once, or in distinct centres of creation. For the
brotherhood of men really depends, not upon the
material fact of their fleshly descent fronl a single
stock, but upon their constitution, as possessed in
comn10n, of the same faculties and affections, fitting
thenl for nlutual relation and association; so that the
value of the history, if it ,vere a history strictly so
called, ,vould lie in its emblematic force and application.
And many narratives of nlarvels and catastrophes in
the Old Testament are referred to in the N e,v, as
enlblems, ,vithout either denying or asserting their
literal truth-such as the destruction of Sodoln and

202

The _'National Church.

Gomorral1 by fire from heaven, and tIle N oachian
deluge. And especially if ,ve bear in nlind the exist-
ence of such a school as that which produced Philo,
or even the author of the Epistle to the Hebre,vs, we
lllust think it ,vould be wrong to lay down, that
,vhenever the New Testanlent ,vrit,ers refer to Old
Testanlent histories, they imply of necessity that the
historic truth was the first to thenl. For their pur-
poses it was often ,vholly in the background, and the
history, valuable only in its spiritual application. The
same nlay take place with ourselves, and history and
tradition be employed elnblematically, without, on that
account, being regarded as untrue. 'Ve do not apply
the ternl 'untrue' to parable, fable, or proycrb,
although their words correspond with ideas, not ,vith
material facts; as little should we do so, ,vhen narratives
have been the spontaneous product of true ideas, and
are capable of reproducing them.
The ideologian is evidently in possession of a prin-
ciple ,vhich ,viII enable him to stand in charitable re-
lation to persons of very different opinions from his
own, and of very different opinions mutually. And if
he has perceived to how great extent the history of
the origin itself of Christianity rests ultÍ1nately upon
probaóle evidence, his principle ,viII relieve hiln fronl
lllany difficulties \vhich might other,vise be very dis-
turbing. For relations '\vhich may repose on doubt-
ful grounds as matter of history, and, as history, be in-
capable of being ascertained or verified, may yet be
equally suggestive of true ideas ,vith facts absolutely
certain. The spiritual significance is the same of
the transfiguration, of opening blind eyes, of causing
the tongue of the stanlmerer to speak plainly, of feed-
ing multitudes with bread in the '\vilderness, of cleansing
leprosy, ,vhatever links nlay be deficient in the tra-
ditional record of particular events. Or, let us suppose
one to be uncertain, \vhether our Lord were born of the
house and lineage of David, or of the tribe of Levi,

.

The National Church.

203

and even to be driven to conclude that the genealo-
gies of Him have little historic value; nevertheless,
in idea, Jesus is both Son of David and Son of Aaron,
both Prince of Peace and High Priest of our profes-
sion; as He is, under another idea, though not literally,
',vithout father and ,vithout mother.' And He is
none the less Son of David, Priest Aaronical, or Royal
Priest )Ielchizedecan, in idea and spiritually, even if
it be unproved, whether He were any of them in
historic fact. In like nlanner it need not trouble us,
if, in consistency, ,ve should have to suppose both
an ideal origin and to apply an ideal meaning to the
birth in the city of David, and to other circumstances of
the infancy. So, again, the incarnification of the di.
vine Inlnlanuel remains, although the angelic appear-
ances ,vhich herald it in the narratives of the Evange-
lists nla y be of ideal origin according to the concep-
tions of fornler dars. The ideologian may sometimes
be thought sceptical, and be sceptical or doubtful, as
to the historical value of related facts; but the histori-
cal value is not al\vays to him the nlost inlportant; fre-
quently it is quite secondary. And, consequently, dis-
crepancies in narratives, scientific difficulties, defects in
evidence, do not disturb him as they do the literalist.

loreover, the same principle is capable of applica-
tion to some of those inferences ,vhich have been the
source, according to different theologies, of nluch con-
troversial acrilnony and of ,vide ecclesiastical separa-
tions; such as those ,vhich have been dra,vn from the
institution of the sacranlents. Some, for instance, can-
not conceive a presence of Jesus Christ in. His institu-
tion of the Lord's Supper, unless it be a corporeal one,
nor a spiritual influence upon the moral nature of man
to be connected ,vith baptism, unless it be superna-
tural, quasi-mechanical, effecting a psychical change
t.hen and there. But ,vithin these concrete concep-
tions there lie hid the truer ideas of the virtual
presence of the Lord Jesus every\vhere ,that He is

204

The National Church.

preached, remenl bered, and represented, and of the con-
tinual force of His spirit in His ,vords, and especially
in the ordinance ,vhich indicates the separation of the
Christian from the ,vorld.
The same n1ay be said of the concrete conceptions
of an hierarchy described by its material form and
descent; also of millenarian expectations of a personal
reign of the saints with Jesus upon earth, and of the
many embodiments in ,vhich from age to age has
reappeared the vision of aNew Jerusalem shining vvith
111undane glory here below. These gross conceptions,
as they seem to some, Inay be necessary to others, as
approximations to true ideas. So, looking for re-
demption in Israel ,vas a looking for a very different
redelnption, \vith most of the J e,visll people, from that
which Jesus really came to operate, yet it ,vas the
only expectation ,vhich they could form, and was the
shado,v to thern of a great reality.
, Lo, the poor Indian, whose untutored mind,
Sees God in clouds, or hears Him in the wind.'
Even to the Hehrew Psalmist, He comes flying upon the
wings of the ,vind; and only to the higher Prophet is He
not in the ,vind, nor in the earthquake, nor in the fire,
but in 'the still small voice.' Not the sanle thoughts-
very far fron1 the san1e thougllts-pass through the
minds of the more and the less instructed on contenl-
plating the sanle face of the nat/ural ,vorld. In like
manner are the thoughts of men yarious, in form at
least, if not in substance, when they read the sanle
Scripture histories and use the same Scripture phrases.
Histories to SOlne, becolne parables to others; and facts
to those, are emblenls to these. The' rock' and the
, cloud' and the 'sea' convey to the Christian admoni-
tions of spiritual verities; and so do the ordinances of
the Church and various parts of its forms of 'v or ship.
Jesus Christ has not revealed His religion as a
theology of the intellect, nor as an historical faith;
and it is a stifling of the true Christian life, both in the

17te ]{ational Ohurch.

;205

individual and in the Church, to require of many nlen
a unaniulity in speculative doctrine, \vhich is unattain-
able, and a uniforlnity of historical belief, ,vhich can
never exist. The true Christian life is the conscious-
ness of bearing a part in a great moral order, of \vhich
the highest agency upon earth has been committed to
the Church. Let us not oppress this ,york nor conl-
plicate the difficulties ,yith \vhich it is surrounded;
'not nlaking the heart of the righteous sad, \vhonl the
Lord hath not made sad, nor strengthening the hands
of the \vicked by promising hin1 life.'
There is enough indeed to sadden us in the doubtful
\varfare which the good \vages \vith the evil, both within
us and ,vithout us. Ho\v fe"T, under the nIost favour-
able conditions, learn to bring thenlsel yes face to face
with the great moralla\v, \vhich is the manifestation
of the 'Vilt of God! The greater part can only detect
the evil ,vhen it COines forth fronl them, nearly as \vhen
any other lnight observe it. 'Ve cannot, in the Inatter
of those who are brought under the highest influences
of the Christian Church, any In ore than in the case of
n1ankind vie\yed in their ordinary relations, give any ac-
count of the apparently useless expenditure of po\ver-
of the apparent overbearing generally of the higher la\v
hy the lo\ver-ofthe apparent poverty of result fi
onI the
operation of a \vonderful Inachinery-of the seeming
"Taste of myriads of gernls, for the sake of a fe\v
mature growths. '
rany are called but fe,v chosen'-
and under the privileges of the Christian Church, as in
other ill ysteries,-

?To^^ol p.Èv Jlap81]KocþÓpOL, ßÚKXOL 8; 'Y
?TâVpOL.

CalvinisnI has a keen perception of this truth; and
we shrink fronl Oalvinislll and Augustinianism, not
because of their perceiving ho\v fe,y, even under Chris-
tian privileges, attain to the highest adoption of sons;
but because of the inferences ,vith \vhich they clog
that truth-the inferences \vhich they dra \y respecting

206

The l\átional Church.

the rest, whom they comprehend in one mass of per-
dition.
The Christian Church can only tend on those
,vho are committed to its care, to the verge of that
abyss which parts this world from the world un-
seen. Some few of those fostered by her are no,v ripe
for entering on a higher career: the many are but
rudimentary spirits-gernlinal souls. "That shall
become of them? If ,ve look abroad in the world and
regard the neutral cllaracter of the multitude, we are
at a 108s to apply to them, either the promises,
or the denunciations of revelation. So, the ,vise
heathens could anticipate a reunion ,vith the great
and good of all ages; they could represent to them-
selves, at least in a figurative manner, the punishlnent
and tIle purgatory of the ,vicked; but they would not
expect the reappearance in another ,vorld, for any
purpose, of a Thersites or an Hyperbolos-social and
poetical justice had been sufficiently done upon them.
Yet tllere are sucll as these, and no better than these,
under the Christian name-babblers, busy-bodies,
livers to get gain, and mere eaters and drinkers. The
Roman Church has imagined a IÙUóu8 'i.nfantÙun;
,ve n1ust ratller entertain a hope that there shall
be found, after the great adjudication, receptacles
suitable for those ,vho shall be infants, not as to years
of terrestrial life, but as to spiritual development-nur-
series as it were and seed-grounds, ,vhere the unde-
veloped may gro,v up under new conditions-the
stunted may become strong, and the perverted be
restored. And 'V' hen the Christian Church, in all its
bránches, shall have fulfilled its sublunary office, and
its F.ounder shall have surrendered His kingdom to
the Great Fatller-all, both sInall and great, shall find
a refuge in the bosom of the Universal Parent, to
repose, or be quickened into higher life, in the ages to
come, according to his ,'Till.

AIOSAIC COS
IOGONY.

O
the revival of science in the 16th century, some
of the earliest conclusions at which philosophers
arrived were found to be at variance \vith popular and
long-established belief. The Ptolenlaic systenl of
astrononlY, which had then full possession of the
lllinds of men, contemplatecl the \vhole visible universe
from the earth as the immovable centre of things.
Copernicus changed the point of vie\v, and placing the
beholder in the sun, at once reduced the earth to an
inconspicuous globule, a merely subordinate nlelnber of
a family of planets, which the terrestrials had until
then fondly inlagined to be but pendants and orna..
ments of their o"\vn habitation. The Church naturally
took a lively interest in the disputes which arose
bet\veen the philosophers of the new school and those
,vho adhered to the old doctrines, inasnluch as the
Hebrew records, the basis of religious faith, nlanifestly
countenanced the opinion of the earth's immobility
and certain other vÌe\vs of the universe very incom..
patible \vith those propounded by Copernicus. Hence
arose the official proceedings against Galileo, in con..
sequence of \vhich he submitted to sign his celebrated
recantation, ackno\vledging that' the proposition that
the sun is the centre of the world ancl immovable
from its place is absurd, philosophically false, and
fornlally heretical, because it is expressly contrary to

208

JIosaic COS1Jlogony.

the Scripture;' and that 'the proposition that the
earth is not the centre of the world, nor imnlovable,
but that it moves and also ,vith a diurnal motion, is
absurd, philosophically false, and at least erroneous in
faith.'
The Ronlish Church, it is presunled, adheres to the
old vie,vs to the present day. Protestant instincts,
Ilo,yever, in the 17th century ,vere strongly in
sympathy ,vith tIle augmentation of science, and
consequently Reformed Churches more easily allo\ved
themselves to be helped over the difficulty, \vhich,
according to the vie,vs of inspiration then held and
,vhich have survived to the present day, was in reality
quite as formidable for them as for those of the old
faith. The solution of the difficulty offered by Galileo
and others ,vas, that the object of a revelation or
divine unveiling of mysteries, must be to teach man
things ,vhich he is unable and must ever remain
unable to find out for hinlself; but not physical truths,
for the discovery of ,vhich he has faculties specially
provided by his Creator. Hence it ,vas not unreason-
able that, in regard to 11latters of fact merely, the
Sacred 'Vritings should use the common language
and assunle tIle comnlon belief of mankind, without
purporting to correct error
upon points Inorally
indifferent. So, in regard to such a text as, 'The
,vorld is established, it cannot be nloved,' though it
Inight imply the sacred pennlan's ignorance of the
fact that the earth does Inove, yet it does not put
forth this opinion as an indispensable point of faith.
And this remark is applicable to a number of texts
,vhich ptes.ellt a sinlilar difficulty.
It might be thought to have been less easy to
reconcile in men's Ininds the Copernican vie,v of the
universe ,vith the very plain and direct avernlents
contained in the opening chapter of Genesis. It can
scarcely be said that this chapter is not intended in
part to teach and convey at least 80111e physical truth,

jJIosaic COSlllogony.

209

and taking its words in their plain sense it manifestly
gives a vie,v of the universe adverse to that of modern
science. It represents the sky as a ,vatery vault in which
the sun, moon, and stars are set. But the discordance
of this description ,vith facts does not appear to have
been so palpable to the minds of the seventeenth cen-
tury as it is to us. The mobility of the earth ,vas a
prvposition startling not only to faith but to the
senses. The difficulty involved in this belief having
been successfully got over, other discrepancies
d"rindled in importance. The brilliant progress of
astrononlical science subdued the minds of ll1en; the
controversy bet\veen faith and kno\vledge gradually
fell to slumber; the story of Galileo and the Inquisi-
tion becanle a school commonplace, the doctrine of
the earth's mobility found its ,vay into children's
catechisms, and the limited vie,ys of the nature of the
universe indicated in the Old Testament ceased to be
felt as religious difficulties.
It ,vould have been "Tell if theologians had made
up their minds to accept frankly the principle that
those things for the discovery of .w'hich l1lan has
faculties specially provided are not fit objects of a
divine revelation. Had this been unhesitatingly done,
either the definition and idea of divine revelation
111USt have been nlodified, and the possibility of an
adnlixture of error have been allo,ved, or such parts
of the Hebre,v \vritings as ,vere found to be l'epugnant
to fact must have been pronounced to form no part of
revelation. The first course is that ,vhich theoloO'ians
b
have most generally adopted, but \vith such linlitations,
cautels, and equivocations as to be of little use in
satisfying those \vho ,vould kno\v ho\v and what, God
really has taught 111ankind, and ,vhether anything
beyond that \vhich nlan is able and obviously intended
to arrive at by the use of his natural faculties.
rrhe difficulties and disputes \vhich attended the
first revival of science have rpcurred in the present
p

210 JIosaic COS1JlOgOlll/_
century in consequence of the gro,vth of geology. It
is in truth only the old question over again-precisely
the sanle point of theology ,vhich is involved,-
although the difficulties ,vhich present themselves are
fresh. The school-books of the present day, ,vhile
they teach the child that the earth moves, yet assure
hin1 that it is a little less than SLX thousand years old,
and that it was made in six days. On the other hand,
geologists of all religious creeds are agreed that the
earth has existed for an immense series of years.-to
be counted by millions rather than by thousands; and
that indubitably more than six days elapsed from its
first creation to the appearance of man upon its sur-
face. By this broad discrepancy between old and
new doctrine is the modern mind startled, as ,vere the
men of the sixteenth century '\vhen told that the earth
moved.
vVhen this new cause of controversy first arose,
some writers more hasty than discreet, attacked the
conclusions of geologists, and declared them scientifi-
cally fhlse. This phase may no,v be considered past,
and althougll school-books probably continue to teach
much as they did, no ,yell-instructed person no\v
doubts the great antiquity of the earth any more than
its n10tion. This being so, modern tlleologians, for-
saking the maxin1 of Galileo, or only using it vaguely
as an occasional make-weight, have directed their atten-
tion to the possibility of reconciling the l\Iosaic narra-
ti ve ,vith those geological facts 'v hich are adnlitted to
be beyond dispute. Several modes of doing this haye
been proposed ,vhich have been deemed n10re or less
satisfactory. In a text-book of theological instruc-
tion ,videly used, l \ve find it stated in broad ternls,
'Geological investigations, it is no\v kno\vn, all prove
the perfect harmony bet\veen scripture and geology,
in reference to the history of creation.'

J Horne's Introduction to the Hol!} Scriptures (1856, tenth Edition.)

}'fosaic COSJ}logO'JlY.

211

In truth, ho\vever, if '\ve refer to the plans of con-
ciliation proposed, '\ve find thenl at variance ""jth each
other and mutually destructive. The conciliators are
not agreed among themselves, and eaeh holds the
views of the other to be untenable and unsafe. The
ground is perpetually being shifted, as the advance
of geological science may require. The plain meaning
of the Hebrew record is unscrupulously tampered
,vith, and in general the pith of the \vhole process lies
in divesting the text of all meaning 'v hatever. We
are told that Scripture not being designed to teach us
natural philosophy, it is in vain to attempt to l11ake
out a cosmogony from its statenlents. If the first
chapter of Genesis convey to us no information con-
cerning the origin of the ,vorld, its st
tenlents cannot
indeed be contradicted by modern discovery. But it
is absurd to call this harnlony. Statements such as
that above quoted are, we conceive, little calculated
to be serviceable to the interests of theology, still less
to religion and morality. Believing, as ,ve do, that if
the value of the Bible as a book of religious instruc-
tion is to be maintained, it must be not by striving to
prove it scientifically exact, at the expense of every
sound principle of interpretation, and in defiance of
comnlon sense, but by the frank recognition of the
erroneous vie\vs of nature ,vhich it contains, ,ve have
put pen to paper to analyse some of the popular con-
ciliation theories. The inquiry cannot 1)e deemed a
superfluous one, nor one \vhich in the interests of
theology had better be let alone. Physical science
goes on unconcernedly pursuing its O\Vll paths. Theo-
logy, the science ,vhose object is the dealing of God
,v.ith man as a nloral being, nlaintains but a shivering
existence, shouldered and jostled by the sturdy gro,vtl;s
of modern thought, and bemoaning itself for the hos-
tility ,vhich it encounters. "\Vhy should this be, un-
less beeause theologians persist in clinging to theories
of God's procedure to,vards nlan, \yhich have long
p 2

212

.AIosaic C081nO/JOn!/.

been seen to be untenable? If, relinquishing theories,
they,vould be content to inquire fronl the history of
lTIan ,vhat this procedure has actually been, the so..
called difficulties of theology ,vould, for the most part,
vanish of thenlselves.
The account which astronomy gives of the relations
of our earth to the rest of the universe, and that
,vhich geology gives of its internal structure and the
developnlent of its surface, are sufficiently familiar
to lTIOst readers. But it ,viII be necessary for our
purpo
e to go over the oft-trodden ground, ,vhich must
be done \vith rapid steps. Nor let the reader object
to be renlinded of some of the most elementary facts
of his kno,vledge. The hU1l1an raee has been ages in
arri ving at conclusions no\v familiar to every child.
r
rhis earth apparently so still and stedfast, lying
in majestic repose beneath the ætherial vault, is a
globular body' of eomparatively insignificant size,
,vhirling fast through space round the sun as the
centre of its orbit, and completing its revolution in
the course of one year, ,vhile at the same time it
revol yes daily once about its o,vn axis, thus producing
the changes of day and night. The sun, ,vhich seems to
leap up each morning from the east, and traversing the
skyey bridge, slides down into the west, is relatively
to our earth motionless. In size and "Teight it incon-
ceivably surpasses it. The moon, ,vhich occupies a
position in the visible heavens only second to the sun,
and far beyond that of every other celestial body in
conspicuousness, is but a subordinate globe, much
smaller than our o\vn, and revolving round the earth
as its centre, \yhile it accolTIpanies it in yearly revo-
lutions about the sun. Of itself it has no lustre, and
is visible to us only by the reflected sunlight. Those
beautiful stars \vhich are perpetually changing their
position in the heavens, and shine with a soft and
llloon-like light, are bodies, sonle much larger, some
less, than our earth, and like it revolve round the sun,

jJIosaic COS1JlOgOJlY.

213

by the reflection of whose rays ,ve see them. The
telescope has revealed to us the fact that several of
these are attended by moons of their o\vn, and that
besides those ,vhich the unassisted eye can see, there
are others belonging to the same fanlily coursing
round the SUllo As for the glittering dust ,vhich
emblazons the nocturnal sky, there is reason to believe
that each spark is a self-Iulninous body, perhaps of
sinlilar Inaterial to our sun, and that the very nearest
of the ,vhole tribe is at an incalculable distance from
us, the very least of them of enormous size cOlnpared
\vith our o,vn humble globe. Thus has nlodern science
reversed nearly all the priJJzcí facie views to \vhich our
senses lead us as to the constitution of the universe; but
so thoroughly are the above statelnents ,vrought into
the culture of the present day, that we are apt to
forget that mankind once saw these things very
differently, and that but a few centuries have elapsed
since such views were startling novelties.
Our earth then is but one of the lesser pendants of
a body \vhich is itself only an inconsiderable unit in
the vast creation. And no\v if ,ve withdra\v our
thoughts from the immensities of space, and look into
the construction of 111an's obscure h0111e, the first
question is \vhether it has ever been in any other con-
dition than that in which \ve no\v see it, and if so,
,vhat are the stages through ,vhich it has passed, and
\vhat ,vas its first traceable state. Here geology
steps in and successfully carries back the history of the
earth's crust to a very remote period, until it arrives at
a region of uncertainty, where philosophy is reduced to
mere guesses and possibilities, and pronounces nothing
definite. To this region belong the speculat\ons which
have been ventured upon as to the original concretion of
the earth and planets out of nebular 11latter of ,vhich
the sun nlay have been the nucleus. But the first
clear vie\v ,vhich ,ve obtain of the early condition of the
earth, presents to us a ball of matter, fluid with intense

214

l1Iosaic COS1J10g01l!/.

heat, spinning on its own axis and revolving round
the sun. How long it Inay have continued in this
state is beyond calculation or surmise. It can only
be believed that a prolonged period, beginning and
ending \ve kno,v not when, elal)sed before the surface
becalne cooled and hardened and capable of sustaining
organized existences. The water \vhich now en\vraps
a large portion of the face of the globe, must for ages
Ila ve existed only in the shape of steam, floating above
and enveloping tIle. planet in one thick curtain of
n1ist. 'Vhen the cooling of the surface al]o"ved it to
condense and descend, then con1menced the process by
,vhich the lo\vest stratified rocks ,vere formed, and
gradually spread out in vast layers. Rains and
rivers no,v acted upon the scoriaceous integument,
grinding it to sand and carrying it down to the depths
and cavities. 1Vhether organized beings co-existed "vith
this state of things \ve kno\v not, as the early rocks
. have been acted upon by interior heat to an extent
\vhicll n1ust have destroyed all traces of animal and
vegetable life, if any such ever existed. This period
lIas been nan1ed by geologists the Azoic, or that in
\vhich life ,vas not. Its duration no one presumes to
define.
It is in the system of beds whicll overlies these
prin1itive forlnations that the first records of organiSlTIS
present then1selves. In the so-called Silurian
systen1 \ve have a vast assem.blage of strata of various
kinds, together many thousands of feet thick, and
abounding in ren1ains of anÌ1nallife. These strata \vere
deposited at the botton1 of the sea, and the ren1ains
are exclusively marine. The creatures whose exuviæ
have been preserved belong to those classes \v hich are
placed by naturalists the lo\vest ,vith respect to
organization, the n101lusca, articulata, and radiata.
Analogous beings exist at the present day, but not
their lineal descendants, unless time can effect trans-
ll1utation of species, an hypothesis not generally

lIIosaic C081noflon!J.

215

accepted by naturalists. In the same strata with
these inhabitants of the early seas are found remains
of fucoid or sea\veed-like plants, the lo\vest of the
vegetable tribe, \vhich nlay have been the fixst of this
kind of existences introduced into the ,vorld. But, as
little has yet been discovered to thro\v light upon the
state of the dry land and its productions at this renlote
period, nothing can be asserted positively on the
subject. l
In the upper strata of the Silurian system is found
the commencement of the race of fishes, the lo\vest
creatures of the vertebrate type, and in the succeeding
beds they become abundant. These monsters clothed in
mail \v ho ill ust have been tIle terror of the seas they
inhabited, have left their indestructible coats behind
theln as evidence of their existence.
Next come the carboniferous strata, containing the
renlains of a gigantic and luxuriant vegetation, and
here reptiles and insects begin to maketheir appearance.
At this point geologists Inake a kind of artificial break,
and for the sake of distinction, denominate the whole
of the foregoing period of animated existences the
Palæozoic, or that of antique life.
In the next great geological section, the so-called
Secondary period, in \vhich are comprised the oolitic
and cretaceous systems, the predominant creatures
are different from those which figured conspicuously
in the preceding. The land was inhabited by gigantic
anÌ1nals, half-toad, half-lizard, ,vho hopped about,
leaving often their foot-prints like those of a clumsy
human hand, upon the sandy shores of the seas
they frequented. The ,yaters no\v abounded \vith
monsters, half-fish, half-crocodile, the ,veIl-known
saurians, ,vhose bones have been collected in abun-
dance. Even the air had its tenantry from the same

1 It has been stated that a coal-bed, containinO' remains of land-plal1ts,
undedying strata of the lower Silurian class, hasobeen found in Portugal.

216

Jlosaic COS1ll0fJ0l1!/.

fan1ily type, for the pterodactyls \vere creatures, half-
lizard, half-van1pyre, provided with men1branous appen-
dages \vhicll must have enabled them to fly. In an
early stage of this period traces of birds appear, and
somewhat later those of mammals, but of the lo\vest
class belonging to that division, namely, the marsupial
or pouch-bearing animals, in \vhich naturalists see
affinities to the oviparous tribes. The vegetation of
tllis p
riod seems to have consisted principally of the
lo\ver classes of plants, according to the scale of
organization accepted by botanists, but it was luxuriant
and gigantic.
Lastly, comes the Tertiary period, in whicll maID-
malia of the highest for1n8 enter upon the scene,
while the composite gro\vths of tIle Secondary period
in great part disappear, and the types of creatures
approach more nearly to those ,vhich no\v exist.
During long ages this state of tllings continued,
while tIle earth \vas the abode principally of
mastodons, elephants, rhinoceroses, and their thick-
l1ided congeners, many of them of colossal propor-
tions, and of species \vhich have no\v passed a,vay.
The renlains of these creatures have been found in the
frozen rivers of the north, and they appear to have
roamed over regions of the globe \vhere their more
delicate representatives of the present day ,vowd be
unable to live. During this era the ox, horse, and
deer, and perhaps other animals, destined to be ser-
viceable to man, became inhabitants of the earth.
Lastly, the advent of man nlay be considered as in-
augurating a ne\v and distinct epoch, that in which
\ve now are, and during the \vhole of \vhich the
physical conditions of existence cannot have been
very materially different from ,vhat tl1ey are no\v.
Thus, the reduction of the earth into the state in
whicll we no,v behold it has been the slowly con-
tinued ,york of ages. The races of organic beings
\vhich have populated its surface have frolll tiu1e to

lIIosaic C0817l0f/Oll!/.

217

.

time passed a\vay, and l)een supplanted by others,
introduced \ve kno\v not certainly by ,vhat means,
but evidently according to a fixed method and order,
and \vith a gradually increasing complexity and
fineness of organization, until. we come to Ulan as
the cro\vning point of all. Geologically speaking, the
history of his first appearance is obscure, nor does
archæology do much to clear this obscurity. Science
has, ho\vever, made some efforts to\vards tracing Ulan
to his cradle, and by patient observation and collec-
tion of facts l1luch more nlay perhaps be done in thi8
direction. As for history and tradition, they afford
little upon \vhich anything can be built. The hunlan
race, like each individual l1lan, has forgotten its o\vn
birth, and the void of its early years has been filled
up by Ï1nagination, and not froll1 genuine recollection.
Thus much is clear, that man's existence on earth
is brief, compared \vith the ages during \",hich un-
reasoning creatures \vere the sole possessors of the
glo be.
'Ve pass to the account of the creation contained
in the Hebre\v record. And it must be observed
that in reality two distinct accounts are given us in
the book of Genesis, one being comprised in the first
chapter and the first three verses of the second, the
other commencing at the fourth verse of the second
chapt
r and continuing till the end. This is so philo-
logically certain that it \vere useless to ignore it. But
even those \vho nlay be inclined to contest the fact
that ,ve have here the productions of t\VO different
\vriters, \vill adnlit that the account beginning at the first
verse of the first chapter, and ending at the third verse
of the second, is a complete \vhole in itself. And to
this narrative, in order not to complicate the subject
unnecessarily, \ve intend to confine ourselves. It \vill
be sufficient for our purpose to enquire, \vhether this
account can be sho\vn to be in accordance \vith our
a
tronomical and geological kno\vledge. And for the

""

218

JIosa-ic COS1JlOg07l!l.

right understanding of it the ,vhole must be set out,
so that the various parts n1aY be taken in connexion
,vith one another.
vVe are told that 'in the beginning God created the
Ileaven and the ea1;th. ' It has been matter of
-discussion amongst theologians ,vhether the ,vord
'created' (Heb. bara) here nleans sinlply shaped or
forn1ed, or shaped or forn1ed out of nothing. From
the use of the verb bara in other passages, it appears
that it does not necessarily n1ean to nlake out of
nothing,! but it certainly might impliedly lnean t11is
in a case so peculiar as the present. The pllrase ' the
heaven and the earth,' is evidently used to signify
the universe of things, inasmncll as the heaven in its
proper signification has no existence until the second
day. It is asserted then that God shaped the ,vhole
material universe, ,vhether out of nothing, or out of
pre-existing matter. But which sense the ,vriter
l.eally intended is not material for our present pur-
pose to enquire, since neither astronomical nor geo-
logical science affects to state anything concerning
the first origin of n1atter.
In the second verse the earliest state of things is
described; according to the received translation, 'the
earth ,vas without form and void.' The prophet Jere-
Iniah 2 uses the same expression to describe the deso-
lation of the earth's surface occasioned by God's ,vrath,
and perhaps the words 'enlpty and ,vaste' ,vould convey
to us at present something more nearly approaching the

1 This appears at once from verse 21, where it is said that God created
(bal'a) the great whales; and from verses 26 and 27, in the first of which
we read, , God said, Let us make (hasah) man in our image,' and in the
latter, 'So God created (bara) man in his image.' In neither of these
ca.ses, can it be supposed to be implied that the whales, or man, were made
out of nothing. In the second narrative, another word is used for t
e
creation of man, ilzer-to mould; and his formation out of the dust IS
circumstantially described.
, Chap. iv. 33.

lJIosaic C081JlOg0J7!1.

219

Ineanillg of lo/at va-bohlt, than those T\yhich the trans-
lators have used.
The earth itself is supposed to be submerged under
the ,vaters of the deep, over ,vhich the breath of God
-the air or ,vind-flutters ,vh.ile aU is involved in
darkness. The first special creative cOlllmand is that
,vhich bids the light appea.r, ,vhereupon daylight
breaks over the two prinlê:Bval elenlents of earth and
,,,"ater-the one lying still enveloped by the other;
and the space of time occupied by the original dark-
ness and the light ,vhich succeeded, is described as the
first day. Thus light and the 11leasnrement of time
a 1 'e represented as existing before the nlanifestation of
the SUll, and this idea, although repugnant to our
nlodern kno,vledge, has not in former times appeared
absurd. Thus ,ve find Anlbrose (IIeæae}Jleron lib. 4,
cap. 3) renlarking :-' 'Ve must recollect that the
light of day is one thing, the light of the sun, moon,
and stars another,-the sun by his raJ's appearing to
add lustre to the daylight. For before sunrise the
day da \vns, but is not in full refulgence, for t.he Inid-
day sun adds still further to its splendour.' 'Ve
quote this passage to ::;ho\v ho\v a 111ind unsophisticated
by astrononlical kno,vledge understood the
Iosaic
statement; and ,ve nlay boldly affirm that those for
'Vh0111 it ,vas first penned could have taken it in no
other ðense than that light existed before and inde-
pendently of the sun, nor do ,ve lllisrepresent it ,vhen
w'e affirnl this to be its natural and primary meaning.
Ho,v far ,ve are entitled to give to the ,vriter's "Tords
an enignlatical and secondary Dleaning, as contended
by those 'v ho attenlpt to conciliate them ,vith our
present kno,vledge, nlust be considered further on.
The ,york of the second day of creat,ion is to erect
the vault of Heaven (Heb. rakia
. Gr. (JTfpfWP-Q; Lat.
jinuamcnlzou) ,vlâch is represented as supporting an
ocean of ,vater above it. The ,vaters are said to be
divided, so that some are bel01v, some above the vault.

220

jJIosaic COSlJ10g01l!/.

That the Hebre,vs understood the sky, firlnalnent, or
heaven to be a pern1anent solid vault, as it appears to
the ordinary observer, is evident enough from various
expressions made use of concerning it: I t is said to
have pilJars (Job xxvi. I I), foundations (2 Sanl. xxii. 8),
doors (Ps.lxxviii. 23), and windows (Gen. vii. I I ). No
quibbling about the derivation of the ,yord IraX..ia,
which is literally sonlething beatell out,l can affect
the explicit description of the l\iosaic ,vriter, con-
tained in the words 'the ,vaters that are above the
firnlament,' or avail to sho,v that he was a,yare that
the sky is but transparent space.
On the third day, at the command of God, the waters
whicll have hitherto concealed the earth are gathered
together in one place-the sea,-and the dry land
emerges. Upon the sanle day the earth brings forth
grass, herb yielding seed and fruit trees, the destined
food of the animals and of nlan (v. 29). Nothing is
said of herbs and trees 'v hich are not serviceable to
this purpose, and perhaps it D1ay be contended, since
there is no vegetable production ,vhich may not pos-
sibly be useful to man, or ,vhich is not preyed upon
by SOlne aninlal, that in this description the whole
terrestrial flora is implied. 'Ve ,vish, bo,vever, to
call the attentio
of the reader to the fact, that trees
and plants destined for food are those ,vhich are par-
ticularly singled out here as the earliest Pl"oùuctions
of the earth, as ,ve shall haye occasion to refer to this
again presently.
On the fourth day, the t,,-ro great lights, the sun and
TI100n, are ulade (Heb. ha8ah) and set in the firn1LU1lent of
heaven to give light to the earth, but n10re particularly
to serve as the TI1eanS of nleasuring tilne, al1d of
nlarking out years, days, and seasons. This is the
most proDlinent office assigned to then1 (v. 14- 18 ).

1 The root is generally applied to express the hammering or beating
out of metal plates; hence something beaten or spread out. It has been
pretended that the word 'rakia may be translated expanse, so as merel)' to
mean empty space. The context sufficiently rebuts tlâs.

1fIosaic C081nogOllY.

221

The forn1ation of the stars is mentioned in the most
cursory 111anner. It is not said out of \vhat materials
all these bodies were ll1ade, and \vhether the \vriter
regarded thelll as already exi
ting, and only \vaiting to
have a proper place assigned then1, 111ay be open to
question. .L
t any rate, their allotted receptacle-the
firlllalllellt-\VaS not n1ade until the second day, nor
\vere they set in it until the fourth; vegetation, be it
observed, having already comn1enced on the third, and
therefore independently of the \varming influence of
the sun.
On the fifth day the \vaters are called into pro-
ductive activity, and bring forth fishes and marine
allinlals, as also the birds of the air.! It is also said
that God created or formed (bara) great \vhales and
other creatures of the ,vater and air. On the sixth
day the earth brings forth living creatures, cattle, and
reptiles, and also 'the beast of the field,' that is, the
,vild beasts. And here also it is added that God nlade
(hasah) these creatures after their several kinds. The
forn1ation of nlan is di
tinguished by a variation of
the creative fiat. 'Let us 111ake 111an in our image after
our likeness.' Accordingly, man is nlade and forlned
(bara) in the image and likeness of God, a phrase \vhich
has been eXplained a\vay to lllean Inerel y 'perfect,
sinless,' although the Pentateuch abounds in passages
sho\ving that the Hebre\vs contemplated the Divine
being in the visible for111 of a man. 2 l\Iodern spiri-
tualism has so entirely banished this idea, that probably
111any luay not without an effort be able to accept the
plain language of the Hebre\v writer in its obvious
sense in the 26th verse of the 1st chapter of Genesis,
though they \vill have no difficulty in doing so in the
3rd verse of the 5th chapter, \vhere the san1e \vords
, Ì1nage' and 'likeness' are used. :ßlan is said to have
been created male and fenlale, and the narrative contains

1 In the second narrative of creation, in which no di
tinction of daJTs is
maùe, the birds are said to have been íormed out of the ground. Gen. ii.
2 See particularly the narrative in Genesis xviii.

2 .:)')
/.."-1

JI08aic C0811l0!JOny.

nothing to show that a single pair only is intended.!
He is commanded to increase and multiply, and to
assunle dominion over all the other tribes of beings.
The ,vhole of the ,yorks of creation being cOlllplete,
God gives to man, beast, fo,vl, and creeping thing,
the vegetable productions of the earth as their ap.
pointed food. And ,vhen ,ve COl1lpare the verses
Gen. i. 29, 30, ,vith Gen. ix. 3, in 'v hieh, after the
Flood, animals are given to nlan for food in addition to
the green llerb, it is difficult not to come to the con-
clusion that in the earliest view taken of creation, men
and anilnals ,vere supposed to have been, in their ori-
ginal condition, not carnivorous. I t is needless to saY'
that this has been for the most part tIle construction
put upon the ,vords of the 1\losaic ,vriter, until a clear
perception of the creative design ,vhich destined the
tiger and lion for flesll-eaters, and latterly the geo-
logical proof of flesh-eating monsters having existed
anlong the pre-adanlite inllabitants of the globe, ren-
dered it necessary to ignore this Ineaning.
The 1st, 2nd, and 3rd verses of the second chapter
of Genesis, ,vhicll Ilave been nlost absurdly divided
from their context, conclude the narrative. 2 On the
seventh day God rests froln His ,york, and blesses
the day of rest, a fact 'v hich is referred to in the
COlllmandnlent given from Sinai as the ground of the
observance of Sabbatic rest imposed upon the Hebre,vs.
Renlarkable as this narrative is for simple grandeur,
it llas nothing in it ,vhich can be properly called
poetical. It bears on its face no trace of mystical or
synlbolical meaning. Things are called by their right
names witl1 a certain scientific exactness ,videly difler-

1 It is in the second narrative of creation that the formation of a single
man, out of the dust of the earth, is described, and the omission to create
a female at the same time, is stated to have been repaired by the sub-
sequent formation of one from the side of the lilan.
2 The common arrangement of the Bible in chapters is of compar3-
tively moùern origin, and is admitted, on all hands, to ha\re 110 authority
or philological worth whatever. In many cases, the division is most pre-
I>osterou
, and interferes greatly with an intelligent perusal of the text.

J1Iosaic OosnlOf/Oll!/.

')9 3
,.. rW

ent from the imaginative cosmogonies of the Greeks,
in ,vhich the po\vers and phenonlena of nature are
invested ,vith personality, and the passions and quali-
ties of men are represented as individual existences.
The circunlstances related in the second narrative
of creation are indeed such as to give at least some
ground for the supposition that a mystical interpreta-
tion ,vas intended to be given to it. But this is far
fronl being the case with the first narrative, in ,vhich
none but a. professed nlystifier of the school of Philo
could see anything but a plain statement of facts.
There can be little reasonable dispute then as to the
sense in ,vhich the l\Iosaic narrative ,vas taken by
those ,vho first heard it, nor is it indeed disputed that
for centuries, putting apart the Philonic nlJ'sticism,
\vhich after all did not, exclude a prilnary sense, its
word8 have been received in their genuine and natural
meaning. That this llleaning is jJrÙllá facie one ,vholly
adyerse to the present astronomical and geological
view's of t,he universe is evident enough. There is not
a nlere difference through deficiency. It cannot be
correctly said that the l\Iosaic ,vriter simply leaves
out details ,vhich modern science supplies, and that,
therefore, the inconsistency is not a real but only an
apparent one. It is nlanifest that the ,vhole account
is given fronl a different point of vie,v from that ,vhich
,ve now' unavoidably take; that the order of things as
,\?e no,v kno,v thenl to be, is to a great extent reversed,
although here and there ,ve may pick out some general
analogies and points of reselnblance. Can we say
that the ptoleillaic system of astronomy is not at
variance ,vith nlodern science, because it represents
with a certain deO'ree of correctness sonle of the
o
apparent nlotions of the heavenly bodies?
The task ,vhich sundry modern writers have inl-
posed upon thenlselves is to prove, that the l\Iosaic
narrative, ho\vever apparently at variance ,vith our
kno\yledge, is essentially, and in fact true, although

224

JIosaic COS'lJlo!JOJlY.

never understood properly untillllodern science sup-
plied the necessary commentary and explanation.
T,vo modes of conciliation have been propounded
,vhich have enjoyed considerable popularity, and to
these t,vo we shall confine our attention
The first is that originally brought into vogue by
Chaln1ers and adopted by the late Dr. Buckland in
his Bridge,vater Treatise, and ,vhich is probably still
received by many as a sufficient solution of all diffi-
culties. Dr. Buckland's treatment of the case n1ay
be taken as a fair specin1en of the line of argument
adopted, and it shall be given in his o\vn ,vords.
'The ,vord beginning,' he says, 'as applied by J\;Ioses in
the first verse of the book of Genesis, expresses an
undefined period of time whicll ,vas antecedent to the
last great change that affected the surface of the earth,
and to the creation of its present animal and vegetable
inhabit::lnts, during ,ÿhich period a long series of
operations may have been going on; ,vhich as they
are ,vholly unconnected ,vith the history of the human
race, are passed over in silence by the sacred historian,
,vhose only concern ,vas barely to state, that the
111at,ter of the universe is not eternal and self-existent,
but ,vas originally created by the power of the Al-
mighty.' , The l\losaic narrative commences ,vith a
declaration that 'in the beginning God created the
heaven and the earth.' These few first ,vords of
Genesis may be fairly appealed to by the geologist as
containing a brief statement of the creation of the
Inaterial elements, at a tin1e distinctly preceding the
operations of the first day; it is no\vhere affirmed that
God created the heaven and the earth in thejirst day,
hut in the be!JÏJuzing; tllis beginning n1ay have been
an epoch at an unmeasured distance, follo\ved by
periods of undefined duration during which all the
physical operations disclosed by geology ,vere going
,
on.
, The first verse of Genesis, therefore, seems expli-
citly to assert the creation of the universe; the

1I108aic C08JJlOgOJlYo

225

heaven, including the sidereal systems; and the earth,
lllore especially specifYing our o,vn planet, as the sub-
sequent scene of the operations of the six day-s about
to be described; no intornlation is given as to events
,vhich may have occurred upon this earth, unconnected
,vith the history of ll1an, bet\veen the creation of its
cOlllponent nlatter recorded in the first verse, and the
era at ,vhich its history is resunled in the second
verse; nor is any limit fixed to the tinle during
\vhich these interJnediate events 1nay have been going
on: nlillions of lllillions of years may have occupied the
indefinite interval, bet\veen the beginning in \vhich God
created the heaven and the earth, and the evening or
commencement of the first day of the :ßlosaic narrative.'
'The second verse nlay describe the condition of
the earth on the evening of this first day (for in the
Jewish mode of conlputation used by 1\loses each day
is reckoned from the beginning of one evening to the
beginning of another evening). This first evening
lnay be considered as the termination of the indefinite
time ,vhich follo\ved the prinleval creation announced
in the first verse, and as the comlnencement of the
first of the six succeeding days in \vhich the earth ,vas
to be filled up, and peopled in a nlanner fit for the
reception of nlankind. "'\Ve haye in this second verse,
a distinct mention of earth and ,vaters, as already-
oJ
existing and involved in darkness; their condition
also is described as a state of confusion and emptiness
(tohu óohu), ,vords which are usually interpreted by
the vague and indefinite Greek term chaos, and \vhich
may be geologically considered as designating the
wreck and ruins of a former ,vorld. At this inter-
lnediate point of tinle the preceding undefined geolo-
gical periods had ternlinated, a new series of events
conllnenced, and the ,york of the first nlornin a of this
b
ne\,- creation was the calling forth of light froill a
ten1porary darkness, ,vhich had overspread the ruins
of the ancient earth.'

Q

22G

JIosaic COs1Jzogon!/.

'Vith regard to the formation of tIle sun and moon,
Dr. Buckland observes, p. 27, "V e are not told that
the substance of the sun and moon ,vas first called
into existence on the fourth day; the text lllay
equally inlply that these bodies ,vere then preparfld
and appointed to certain offices, of high importance
to nlankind, 'to give light upon the earth, and
to rule over the day, and over the night, to be
for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and for
years.' ffhe fact of their creation had been stated
before in the first verse.'
The question of the meaning of the ,,"'ord bara, create,
has been previously touched upon; it has been ac-
kno\vledged by good critics that it does not of itself
necessarily inlply 'to nlake out of nothing,' upon
the sinlple ground that it is found used in cases \vhere
such a 111eaning \vould be inapplicable. But the
difficulty of giving to it the interpretation contended
for by Dr. Buckland, and of uniting \vith this the
assun1ption of a six days' creation, such as that des-
cribed in Genesis, at a comparatively recent period, lies
in this, that the heaven itself is distinct1y said to have
lJeen forllled by the division of the ,vaters on the second
day. Consequently during the indefinite ages \vhich
elapsed froll1 the prin1al creation of mattel
until the
first J\rlosaic day of creatioll, there ,vas no sky, no
local habitation for the sun, n10011, and stars, even
supposing those bodies to have been included in the
original lllaterial. Dr. Buckland does not touch this
obvious difficulty, ,vithout ,vhich his argU111ent that
the sun and lTIOOn n1ight have been conten1plated as pre-
existing, although they are not stated to have been
et
in the heaven until the fourth day, is of no value at all.
Dr. Buckland appears to aSSUl1le that \vhen it is
said that the heaven and the earth \vere created in the
beginnin g , it is to be understood that they ,vere
created in their present fornl and state of cOlllpletenp

,
the heaven raised above the earth as ,ve see it, or

J.1Io8aic COSUlOgOJlY.

".) 7
""" ""

seem to see it no,v. This is the fallacy of his argument.

rhe circunlstantial description of the frauling of the
heayen out of the "raters, proves that the ,vords
, heaven and earth,' in the first verse, nlust be taken
either proleptically, as a general expression for the
uni 'Ter
e, the matter of the universe in its crude and
ullforlnec1 shape, or else the ,,"'ord bara must nlean
fornled, not created, the "'Titer intending to say' God
fornled the heaven and earth in IDanner follo,ving,' in
,vhich case heaven is used in its distinct and proper
sense. But these t,vo senses cannot be united in the
1l1anner covertly assumed in Dr Buckland's argulllent.
Having, ho\vever, thus endeavoured to nlake out that
the l\fosaic account does not negative the idea that
the sun, moon, and stars had 'been created at the
indefinitely distant tÏ1ne designated by the ,vord
heginning,' he is reduced to describe the prinlæval
darkness of the first day as 'a tenlporary darkness,
produced by an accunlulation of dense vapours upon
the face of the deep.' 'An incipient dispersion of
these vapours nlay have readnlitted light to the earth,
upon the first day, ,vhilst the exciting cause of light
,vas obscured, and the further purification of the atnlo-
sphere upon the fourth day, nlay have caused the sun
and nloon and stars to re-appear in the fÌrnlalnent of
heaven, to aSSUllle their ne,v relations to the ne\vly
modified earth and to the hunlan race.'
It is needless to discuss the scientific probability of
this hypothe
is, hut the violence done to the grand
and simple ,vords of the Hebre\v "'Titer nlust strike
every n1Ïnd. 'And God said, Let there he light-and
there ,vas light-and God sa,,, the light that it ,yas
good. And God
ivided the light fronl the darkness,
and God called the light day, and the darkness called
he night; and the evening and the 11lorning ,\Tere the
first day.' Can anyone sensible of the value of ,,"urds
suppose, that nothing 11lore is here described, or
intended to be described, than the partial clearing
Q 2

228

lJIosaic C08JJIO!JOny.

a\vay of a fog? Can such a manifestation of light have
been dignified by the appellation of day? Is not this
reducing the noble description ,vhich has been the
adlniration of ages to a pitiful C{'lJllt ?llortUltJJl of
enlpty verbiage?
"
bat \verethe ne'lV relatiolls,vhich the heavenly bodies
according to Dr. Buckland's vie\v, assul1led to the
ne\vly 1110dified earth and to the human race? They
had, as ,ve ,veIl kno\v, nlarked out seasons, days and
years, and had given light for ages before to the earth,
and to the anilnals ,vhich preceded nlan as its inha-
bitants, as is sho\vn, Dr. Buckland adnlits, lJY the eyes
of fossil animals, optical instrU111ents of the sarne con-
struction as those of the anill1als of our days, and also
by the existence of vegetables in the early ,vorld, to the
developl1lent of ,vhich light must have been as essential
then as no\v.
The hypothesis adopted by Dr. Buckland was first
pronlulgated at a time ,,
hen the gradual and regular
fornlation of the earth's strata ,vas not seen or ad-
ll1itted so clearly as it is now. Geologists ,vere more
disposed to believe in great catastrophes and sudden
breaks. Buckland's theory supposes that previous to
the appearance of the present races of animals and
vegetables there ,vas a great gap in the globe's history,
-that the earth \vas conlpletely depopulated, as \vell
of Inarine as land aninlals; and that the creation of an
existing plants and aninlals ,vas coæval ,vith that of
luau. This theory is by no Ineans supported by
geological phen0111el1a, and is, ,ve suppose, no\v rejected
by all geologists \vhose authority is valuable. Thus
"
rites Hugh l\Iiller in 1857-' I certainly did Ollce
believe \vith Chalnlers and \vith Buckland that the six
days \vere si111ply nat,ural days oft\venty-four hours each
-that they had c0111prised the entire \vork of the
existing creation-and that the latest of the geologic
ages ,yas separated by a great chaotic gap from our
o,vn. 1\1 y labours at the time as a practical geologist

JJIosaic COSJJlOgOJlY.

22U

had been very much restricted to the palæozoic and

econdary rocks, 1110re especially to the old red and
carboniferous systen1s of the one division, and the
oolitic systen1 of the other; and the long .extinct
organisnls ,,"hich I found in then1 certainly did not
conflict ,vith the vie,v of Chalmers. All 1 found
necessary at the tin1e to the ,york of reconciliation
,vas some schelne that ,vould pern1it 111e to assign to
the earth a high antiquity, and to regard it as the
scene of n1any succeeding creations. During the
last nine years, ho,vever, I have spent a fe\v \veeks
every autull1n in exploring the late forn1ations, and
acquainting Jnyself ,,
ith their particular organisms.
I have traced theln up\vards fron1 the raised beache'S
and old coast lines of the human period, to the brick
clays, Clyde beds, and drift and boulder deposits of
the Pleistocene era; and again froll1 theIn, \vith the
help of n1useums and collections, up through the
n1anlmaliferous crag of England to its red and cora]
crags; and the conclusion at \vhich I ha\
e been com-
pelled to arrive is, that for many long ages ere nlan
'\"a
ushered int0 being, not a fe\v of his hUlubler con-
temporaries of the fields and \\"oods enjoyed life in
their present haunts, aud that for thousands of years
anterior to even thezr appearance, many of the existing
111011uscs lived in our seas. That day during ,yhich
the present creation came into being, and in ,yhich
God, 'v hen he had made 'the beast of the earth after
his kind, and the cattle after their kind,' at length
tcrn1inated the \vork by moulding a creature ill His
o\vn inlage, to ,vhom He gave dOll1inion over them
all, ,vas not a brief period of a fe,,, hours' duration,
but extended over, mayhap, rnillenniull1s of centuries.
No blank chaotic gap of death and darkness separated
the creation to \vhich lnan belongs from that of the
old extinct elephant, hippopotanlu
, and hyæna; for
familiar anin1als, such as the red deer, the roe, the fox,
the ,vild cat, and the badger, lived throughout the

230

J1Iosaic C08JJlOgOJlY.

period ,vhich connected their tinle ,vith our o\vn j and
so I have been c0I11pelled to hold that the days of
creation ,vere not natural but prophetic days, and
stretched far back into the bygone eternity.' 1
Hugh
IiIler ,viII be adnlitted by lnany as a com-
petent ,yitness to the untenability of the theory of
Uhall1lers and Buckland on n1ere geological grounds.
He had, indeed, a theory of his o,vn to propose, ,vhich
,ve shall presently consider; but we may take his
,v.ord that it ,vas not.,vithout the conlPlùsion of what
he considered irresistible evidence that he relinquished
a vie\v ,vhich ,vould have saved hinl infinite time and
labour, could he have adhered to it.
But \vhether contenlplated from a geological point
of vie,v, or ,yl1ether fronl a philological one, that is,
\vith reference to the value of ,vords, the use of lan-
guage, and the ordinary rules ,vhicll govern \vriters
,\Those object it is to 111ake themselves understood by
those to ,vhom their \yorks are imnlediately addressed,
the interpretation proposed by Buckland to be given
to the l\Iosaic description ,viII not bear a nlonlent's
serious discussion. It i
p1ain, from the ,vhole tenor
of the narrative, that the \vriter contemplated no such
representation as that suggested, nor could any such
idea have entered into the nlillds of those to \vhom
the account \yas first given. Dr. Buckland endea-
vours to Inake out that \ve 11ave here simply a case of
leaving out facts ,vhich did not particularly concern
the ,vriter's purpose, so that he gave an account true
so far as it \vent, though impel-ofect. '""\V e Inay fairly
ask,' he argues, 'of those persons \vho consider phy-
sical science a fit subject for revelation, \vhat point
they can inlagine short of a communication of Omni-
science at \vhich suell a revelation 111igllt l1ave stopped
\rithout imperfections of omission, les8 in degree, but

1 Testimony of the Rocks J p. 10.

JIosaic COSlJlOfjOllY.

231

similar in kind, to that ,vhich they impute to the
existing narrative of ::\lose8? A revelation of so
n1uch only of astronon1Y as ,vas kno,vn to Copernicus
,vould have seenled in1 perfect after the discoveries of
N e,vton; and a revelation of the science of N e,vton
,vould have appeared defective to La Place: a revela-
tion of all the chen1ical kno,vledge of the eighteenth
crntury ,,?ould have been as deficient in con1parison
,vith the infornlation of the present day, as what is
no\v kno\vn in this science ,vill probably appear hefore
the ternlination of another age; in the ,vhole circle
of sciences there is not one to which this argunlent
lllay not be extended, until ,ve should require from
revelation a full developlnent of all the mysterious
agencies that uphold. the mechanisl1l. of the n1aterial
,vorld.' Buckland's question is quite inapplicable to the
real difficulty, which is, not that circuln
tantial details
are on1itted-that nlight rea.sonably be expected,-but
that ,vhat is told, is told so as to convey to ordinary
apprehensions an inlpression at variance ,vith facts.
'Ve are indeed told that certain ,vriters of antiquity
had already anticipated the hypothesis of the geologist,
and t,vo of the Christian fathers, Augustine and
Episcopius, are referred to as having actually held
that a ,vide interval elapsed bet\veen the first act of
creation, mentioned in the l\Iosaic account, and the
COmll1enCement of the six days' ,vork. l If, ho\vever,
they arrived at such a conclusion, it was sinlply be-
cause, like the 1110dern geologist, they had theories of
their own to support, ,vhich led thenl. to nlake sOlne-
"That sin1ilar hypotheses.
, .After all,' says Buckland, 'it should be recol1ected
t.hat the question is not respecting the correctness of
the )Iosaic narrati Ye, but of oar interpretation of it,'
a proposition ,vhich can hardly be sufficiently re..

1 See Dr. Pusey's note-Buc1dand's Bridgewater Treatise, pp. 24, 25.

232

]'Iosaic C08JJlOf/Oll!l.

probated. Such a doctrine, carried out unreservedly,
strikes at the root of critical n10rality. It 111ay, in-
deed, be sOlnetilnes possible to give t\yO or three dif-
ferent interpretations to one and the sanle passage,
even in a modern and familiar tongue, in \vhich case
this Inay arise fron1 the unskilfulness of the \vriter or
speaker \vho has failed clearly to express his thought.
In a dead or foreign language the difficulty Inay arise
from our o\vn \vant of fan1iliarity with its forn1s of
speech, or in an ancient book \ve 111ay be puzzled by
allusions and modes of thought tIle key to which has
been lost. But it i8 no part of the c01l1111entator's
or interpreter's business to introduce obscurity or find
difficulties ,vhere none exist, and it cannot be pre-
tended that, taking it as a question of tIle use of
\vords to express thougllts, there are any peculiar
difficulties about understanding tIle first chapter of
Genesis, \vhether in its original Hebre\v or in our
C01111110n translation, \vhich represents the original
\vith all necessary exactness. The difficulties arise
for the first time, \vhen \ve seek to in1port a meaning
into the language "Thich it certainly never could have
conveyed to those to \Vh0111 it \vas originally addressed.
Unless ,ve go the \vhule lengtll of supposing the siln-
pIe account of the H ebre\v cosmogonist to be a series
of a\vk\vard equivocations, in \vhich he atten1pted to
give a representation \videly different fro1l1 the Ülcts,
yet, \vithout trespassing against literal truth, \ve can
find no difficulty in interpreting his \vorcls. Altllough
language Inay be, and often has been, used for the pur-
pose, not of expressing, but concealing thought, no such
charge can fairly be laid against the Hebre\v \\Titer.
'It should be borne in ll1ind,' says Dr. Buckland,
'that the object of the aecount \vas, not to state
in lvhat 1Jlanner, but by lvhoJ/l the ,vorld \vas Inade.'
Everyone must see that this is an unfounded asser-
tion, inasmuch as the greater part of the narra-
tive consists in a minute and orderly description of

.1.1Iosaic COSJ)logony.

233

the D1anner in ,vhich things \vere maùe. "\Ve can
kno\v nothing as to the object of the" account, except
from the account itself. "That the \vriter n1eant
to state is just that \vhich he has stated, for all that
,ve can kno\v to the contrary. Or can ,ve seriously be-
lieve that if appealed to by one of his Hebre\v hearers
or readers as to his intention, he ,voulù have replied,
::\Iy only object in what I have ,vritten is to inforln
you that God n1ade the ,vorld; as to the manner of
His doing it, of ,vhich I have given so exact an ac-
count, I have no intention that Il1Y \vords should be
taken in their literal rneaning.
'Ve con1e then to thi
, that if we sift the ::\Iosaic
narrative of all definite llleaning, and only allo,v it to
be the expression of the most vague generalities, if
\ve avo\v that it adnlits of no certain interpretation,
of none that lllay not be shifted and altered as often
as ,ve see fit, and as the exigencies of geology may
require, then lllay \ve reconcile it ,vith ,vhat science
teaches. 1'his lllode of dealing \vith the subject has
been broadly advocated by a recent \vriter of nlathe-
nlatical eminence, ,vho adopts the Bucklandian hypo-
thesis, a passage from ,vhose ,york \ve. shall quote. l
'The l\Iosaic account of the six days' ,vork is thus
harn10nized by SOIne. On the first day, ,vhile the
earth was ',vithout forn1. and void,' the result of a
previous convulsion in nature, 'anù darkness ,vas
upon the face of the deep,' Goel conllnanded light
to shine upon the earth. 'rhis n1ay have been
effected by such a clearing of the thick and loaded
atmo
phere, as to aHo" the light of the sun to pene-
trate its lllass \vith a suffused illu1l1ination, sufficient
to dispel the total darkness \vhich had prevailed, but
proceeding fronl a source not yet apparent on the
earth. On the second day a separation took place in

1 Sc}.ipture and Science not at Variance. By J. H. Pratt, ::\1..-\.,
Archdeacoll of Calcutta, 1859. Third edition, p. 34.

234

AIosaic COS1Jlog0J1!1_

the tl1Ïck vapourr mass ,vhich lay upon the earth,
dense clouds ,vere gathered up aloft and separated by
all eæjJGJlse fron1 the ,vaters and vapours belo,v. On
the third day these lo\ver vapours, or fogs and mists
,vhich hitherto concealed the eärth, ,vere condensed
and gathered ,vith the other ,vaters of the earth into
seas, and the dry land appeared. Then grass and
herbs began to gro,v. On the fourth day the clouds
and vapours so rolled into separate Inasses, or \vere so
entirely absorbed into the air itself, that the sun shone
forth in all its brilliancy, the visible source of light
and heat to the renoyated earth, ,vhile the moon and
stars gave light by night, and God appointed then1
hencefortll for signs, and for seasons, and for days,
and for years, to his creatures ,vllom he ,vas about to
call into existence, as he after\vards set or appointed
]1Ïs bo,v in the clouds, ,vhich had appeared ages before,
to be a sign to Noah and his descendants. The fifth
and sixth days' ,,'ork needs no comn1ent.
, ....\.ccording to this explanation, the first chapter of
Genesis does not pretend (as has been generaUy
assumed) to be a cosmogony, or an account of the
original creation of the lllaterial universe. The only
cosnlogony ,vhich it contains, in that sense at least, is
confined to the sublime declaration of the first verse,
'In the beginning God created the heavens and the
earth.' The inspired record thus stepping over an
-interval of indefinite ages ,vith \ivhicll Inan has no
direct concern, proceeds at once to narrate the events
preparatory to the introduction of man on the scene;
elnploying phraseology strictly faithful to the (ljJpear-
a/lces ,vhich ,,"ould have n1et the eye of n1an, could he
have been a spect.ator on the earth of \vhat passed
during those six days. All this has been conllnonly
supposed to he a more detailed account of .the general
truth announced in the first verse, in short, a COS1l10-
gony: such ,vas the idea of Josephus; such probably
,yas the idea of our translators; for their version,

J,Iosaic COS'J}lOgO'Jl!/.

235

,vithout forln and void, points to the prlnlæ'Tal chaos,
out of ,vhich all things "Tere then supposed to elnerge;
and these ,vords standing in lÍJJline, have tended, per-
haps nlore than anything else, to foster the idea of a
coslllogony in the 111inds of general readers to this
very day.
, '1'he foregoing explanation many have no\v adopted.
It is sufficient for my purpose, if it be a possible ex-
planation, and if it n1eet the difficulties of the case.
That it i
possible in itself, is plain frotTI the fact
above established, that the Scriptures ,visely speak on
natural things according to their appearallces rather
than their physical 'realilies. It meets the difficulties
of the case, because all the difficulties hitherto started
agaillst this chapter on scientific grounds proceeded on
the principle that it is a cosillogony; ,vhich this
explanation repudiates, and thus disposes of the
difficulties. It is therefore an explanation satisfactory
to IllY o\vn 111ind. I nlay be ten1pted to regret that I
can gain no certain scientific infornlation fron1 Genesis
regarding the process of the original creation; but I
resist the temptation, renlen1bering the great object for
w'hich the Scripture ,vas given-to tell Illan of his
origin and fall, and to dra,v his nlind to his Creator
and Redeemer. Scripture ,vas not designed to teach
us natural philosophy, and it is vain to atten1pt to
111ake a cosmogony out of its staten1ents. The AI-
nÚghty declares himself the originator of all things,
but he condescends not to describe the process or the
ht\vs by ,vhich he ,vorked. All this he leaves for
reason to decipher fron1 the phenonlena ,vhich his
,yorld displays.
,rrhis explanation, ho,vever, I do not ,,"'ish to Í1npose
on Scripture; and an1 fully preparel1 to surrender it,
should further scientific discovery suggest another
better fitted to 111eet all the requirements of the case.'
\Ve venture to think that the ,yorld at larO"e ,vill
t . b
con Hlue to consider the account in the first chapter of

236

.1JIosaic C08JllO[/Ony.

Genesis to be a cosn1ogony. But as it is here ad-
mitted that it does not describe physical realities,
but only out\vard appearances, that is, gives a de-
scription false in fact, and one 'v hich can teach us no
scientific trutil ,vhatever, it seenlS to matter little
,vhat \ve call it. If its description of the events of the
six days ,vhich it con1prises be merely one of appear-
ances and not of realities, it can teach us nothing
regarding thenl.
Dissatisfied ,vith the scheme of conciliation ,vhicll
has been discussed, other geologists have proposed to
give an entirely mythical or enigmatical sense to the
l\fosaic narrative, and to consider tIle creative days
described as vast periods of time. This plan "
as
long ago suggested, but it has of late enjoyed a high
degree of popularity, through the advocacy of the
Scotch geologist Hugh lVliller, an extract fron1 ,v]lose
,vork has been already quoted. Dr. Buckland gives
the follo,ving account of tIle first form in ,yIlÎch this
theory was propounded, and of thA grounds upon
\vhich he rejected it in favour of that of Chalnlers :1_
'A third opinion has been suggested both by
learned theologians and by geologists, and on
grounds independent of one another-viz., that
the days of the l\Iosaic creation need not be un-
derstood to inlply the sanle length of tÏIne w'hich
is no,voccupied by a single revolution of the globe,
but successive periods each of great extent; and it
has been asserted that tl1e order of succession of the
organic renlaius of a forn1er ,vorld accords "rith the
order of creation recorded in Genesis. This assertion,
though to a certain degree apparently correct, is not
entirely supported by geological facts, since it appears
that the lnost ancient Inarine anin1als occur in the
sanle division of the lo\vest transition strata ,vith the

1 BI'idgewater Treatise, p. 17.

jJlosaic COSJJlogony.

237

earliest relnains of vegetables, so that the evidence of
organic relnains, as far as it goes, sho\ys the origin of
plants and anin1als to have been contemporaneous: if
any creation of vegetables preceded that of anin1als,
no evidence of such an event has yet been discovered
by the researches of geology. Still there is, I believe,
no sound critical or theulogical objection to the inter-
pretation of the ,vord ' day' as meaning a long
period. '
j-,"-rchdeacon Pratt also sUlnmarily rejects this vie\v
as untenable :1_
'There is one other class of interpreters, ho,vever,
,vith 'Vh0111 I find it in1possible to agree,- I n1ean
those ,vho take the six days to be six periods of nn-
kno\vn indefinite length. This is the principle of
interpretatión in a ,york on the Creat-ion and the Fall,
by the Rev. D. :ßlacdonald; also in
Ir. Hugh :ßliller's
posthulllOUS ,york, the lesti)J10rlY qf the Rock8, and also
in an achnirable treatise on the Præ-...4da))zite ßàTth
in Dr. Lardner's Jlu8euJ}l qf Science. In this last it
is the n101'e surprising because the successive chapters
are in fact an accull1ulation of evidence ,vhich points
the other \yay, as a \vriter in the Christiall ObserL'er,
Jan. 1858, has conclusively sho\vn. The late
I.
])'Orbigny has den10nstrated in his ProdroJJle de
Palæontologie, after an elaborate exalnination of vast
lllultitudes of fossils, that there have been at least
t\yentY-l1ine distinct periods of anÎ1l1al and vegetable
existence-that is, t\venty nine creations separated one
froll1 another by catastrophes \vhich have s\vept a,vay
the
pecies existing at the tilDe, \vith a very fe\v
solitary exceptions, never exceeding one and a-half per
cent. of the \vhole nUlllber discovered \vhich have
either survived the catastrophe, or have been erro-
neously designated. But not a single species of the

1 Science and ScriptUJ'e not at "rariance, p. 40, note.

238

jJI08aic C081Jlogon!/.

preceding period survived the last of these catastrophes,
and this closed the Tertiary period and ushered in the
HUlllan period. The evidence adduced by 1\1.
IJ'Orbigny sho\vs that both plants and aniuIa]s ap-
peared in everyone of those t"Tenty -nine periods.
The notion, therefore, that the 'days' of Genesis
represent periods of creation from the beginning of
things is at once refuted. TIle parallel is destroyed
both in tIle nUl1Iber of the periods (thirty, including
tlle Azoic, instead of six), and also in the character
of the things created. No argulnent could be 1110re
conlplete; and yet the \vriter of the PTæ-.LJdauÛte
Earth, in the last t\VO pages, SU111S up his lucid sketch
of IVL D'Orbigny's researches by referring the account
in the first chapter of Genesis to the \v hole creation
from the beginning of all things, a selection of epochs
being 11lade, as he in1agines, for the six days or
periods. '
In this trenchant lllanner do tlleological geologists
overthro,v one another's theories. Ho\vever, Hugh
l\Iiller ,vas perfpctly aware of the difficulty involved
in his vie\v of the question, and \ve shall endeavour to
show the reader the manner in \vhicll he deals \vith it.
He begins by pointing out that the falllilies of vegeta-
bles and animals 'v ere introduced upon earth as near]y
as possible according to the great classes in ,vhich
naturalists have arranged the lllodern flora and fauna.
According to the arrangenIent of Lindley, he observes
-' Commencing at the botton1 of the scale ,ve find
the thallogens, or flo\verless plants, ,vhich lack proper
ste1l1S and leaves-a class ,vhich includes all the algæ.
N ext succeed tIle acrogens, or flo\verless plants tlult
possess hoth stenlS and leaves-such as the ferns and
their allies. Next, 01l1it,ting an inconspicuous clasB,
represented by but a fe\v parasitical plants incapable
of preservation as fossils, conle the endogens-
lllonocotylec1onous flo\vering plants, that include the
palnls, the liliaceæ, and several other fanlilies, all

JIosaic Cosnlogony.

239

characterized by the parallel venation of their leaves.
Next, on1Ïtting another inconspicuous tribe, there
follo,vs a very inlportant class, the gymnogens-
polycotyledonous trees, represented by the coniferæ
and cycadaceæ. And last of all conle the dicotyledonous
exocrens-a class to ,vhich all our fi
uit and \vhat are
kno
vn as our forest trees belong, ,vith a vastly pre-
ponderating nl

ority of the herbs and flo\vers that
inlpart fertility aud beauty to our gardens and
nleadows.' The order in ,vhich fossils of these several
classes appear in the strata, Hugh ::\Iiller states
to be as follo\vs :-In the Lo\ver Silurian \ye find only
thallogens, in the Upper Silurian acrogens are aùded.
The gY111nogens appear rather prenlaturely, it nlight
be thought, in the old red sandstone, the endogens
(nlonocotyleclonous) coming after them in the carboni-
ferous group. Dicotyledonous exogens enter at the
close of the oolitic period, and COlne to their greatest
developnlent in the tertiary. Again, the anÏ1nal tribes
have been introduced in an order closely agreeing "Tith
the geological divisions estaùlished by Uuvier. III the
Silurian beds the invertebrate creatures, the radiata,
articulata, and nlo11usca, appear sinlultaneously.. At
the close of the period, fishes, the lo\vest of the verte-
brata, appear: before the old red sandstone period had
passed a\vay, reptiles had conle into existence; birds,
and the marsupiallnanlnlals, enter in the oolitic period;
placental lìlan1111a1s in the tertiary; and nlan last of all.
:N O\V, these facts do certainly tally to SOlne extent
\vith the
Iosaic account, \vhich represents fish and fo\vl
as having been produced fron1 the \yaters on the fifth
day, reptiles and man1111als fron1 the earth on the
sixth, and 11lan as 11lac1e last of all. The agreelnent,
how"ever, is far fron1. exact, as according to geological
evidence, reptiles ,vould appear to have existed (lO'es
before birds and 1113.111111als, \vhereas here the creation
of birds is attributed to the fifth day, that of reptiles
to the sixth. There rell1ains, nl0reOYer, the insuperable

240

}'fosaic COS1JlOg01l!/.

difficulty of the plants and trees being represented as
nlade on the third day-that is, 1110re than an age
before fishes and birds; ,vhich is clearly not the case.
Although, therefore, there is a superficial resem-
blance in the l\Iosaic account to that of the g
ologists,
it is evident that the bare theory that a 'day' means
an age or inlmense geological period might be nlade
to yield sonle l
ather strange results. 'Vhat becomes
of the evening and morning of whicll each day is said
to have consisted ? 'Vas each geologic age divided into
t,vo long intervals, one all darkness, the other all light ?
and if so, ,vhat became of the plants and trees created
in the third day or period, ,vhen the eyening of the
fourth day (the evenings, be it observed, precede
the mornings) set in? They must have passed
through half a seculum of total darkness, not even
cheered by that dim light ,vhich the sun, not yet conl-
pletely 111anifested, supplied on the nlorning of the third
nay. Such an ordeal would have con1pletely destroyed
the ,vhole vegetable creation, and yet ,ve finel that it
suryived, and ,vas appointed on the sixth day as the
food of man and aninlals. In fact, '\ve need only sub-
stitute the ,vord 'period' for 'day' in the l\Iosaic nar-
rative to make it very apparent that the writer at least
had no such llleaning, nor could he have conveyed
any such llleaning to those ,vho first heard his account
read.
, It has been held,' says Hugh l\Iiller, 'by acconl-
plished philologists, that the days of l\fosaic cTeation
Inay be regarded ,vithout doing yiolence to the Hebre,y
language, as successive periods of great extent.'l "T e
do not believe that there is any ground for this doc-
trine. The ,vord 'day' is certainly used occasionally in
particular phrases, in an indefinite IDanneI', not only
in Hebre,v, but other languages. As for instance,
Gen. xxxix. 11-' About this time,' Heb. literally,

1 Testimony, p. 133-

JIosaic Cosulogony.

241

'about this day.' But every such phrase explains
itself, and not only philology but comn10n sense dis-
clainls the notion, that ,vhen ' day' is spoken of in ternlS
like those in the first chapter of Genesis, and described
as consisting of an evening and a morning, it can
be understood to 111ean a seculum.
Archdeacon Pratt, treating on the san1e subject,
says (p. 41, note), "V ere there no other ground of
objeetion to this nlode of interpretation, I think the
,vording of the fourth eommandnlent is clearly opposed
to it. Ex. xx. 8. 'I{elnember the Sabbath day to
keep it holy. 9. Six days shalt thou labour and do
all thy work. 10. But the seventh day is the Sabbath
of the Lord thy God. In it thou, shalt not do any
work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy nlan-
servant, nor thy n1aidservant, nor thy cattle, nor thy
stranger that is ,vithin thy gates. I I. For i.n six
days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea and
all that in thell1 is, and rested the seventh day;
wherefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and hal-
lo\ved it.'
'Is it not a harsh and forced interpretation to sup-
pose that the six days in v. 9 do not mean the same
as the six days in v. I I, but that in this last place they
n1ean six periods? In reading through the eleventh
verse, it is extrelnely difficult to believe that the seventh
day is a long period, and the sabbath day an ordinary
day, that is, that the same ,vord day should be used in
t\VO such totally different senses in the sanle short
sentence and \vithout any explanation.'
I-Iugh
Iiller sa \v the difficulty; but he endeavours
to escape the consequences of a rigorous application
of the periodic t,heory by 11lodifying it in a peculiar,
and certainly ingenious lUanl1er. ' \Vaiving,' he says,
't.he quest.ion as a
hilological one, and simply holding
,vlth Cuvler, ParkInson, and Sillinlau, that each of
the si.'C days of the
Iosaic account in the first chapter
R

242

JIosaic COS1JlOg01l!/.

,vere ,vhat is assuredly meant by the day} referred to
in the second, not natural days but lengthened periods,
I find myself called on, as a geologist, to account
for but three out of the six. Of the period during
\vhich light ,vas created, of the period during which a
firrílanlent was made to separate the ,vaters froln the
waters, or of the period during \vhich the t\VO great
Jights of the eart}l, \vith the other heavenly bodies,
becanle visible frolll the earth's surface-we need
expect to find no record in the rocks. Let l11.e, ho,v-
ever, pause for a lllonlellt, to renlark the peculiar
character of the language in \vhich \ve are first intro-
duced in the l\Iosaic narrative, to the heavenly bodies
-sun, moon, and stars.
rhe 11loon, thougIl absolutely
one of the
nnallest lights of our sy-stern, is described
as secondary and subordinate to only its greatest light,
the sun. I t is the apparent, then, not the actual, \V hich
\ve find in the passage-\vhat seenled to be, not
,vhat 'was
. and as it \vas nlercly \vhat appeared to
be greatest that \vas described as greatest, on ,vhat-
grounds are \ve to hold that it may not also have been
\vhat aJ)peared at the tinle to be lllade that has been
described as 1uade P The sun, moon, and stars, 111ay
have been created long before, though it ,vas not until
this fourth day of creation that they becanle visible
froni the earth's surface.'2
The theory founded upon tllis hint is that the
Hebre\v \vriter did not state facts, but nlerely certain
appearances, and those nut of things \vhich really hap-

1 The expression, Gen. ii. 4, 'In the day that the Lord God created
the earth and heaven,' to which IIugh ::\Iiller here refers, may possibly
mean' at the time wlwn,' meaning a week, year, or other limited time. But
there is not the smallest reason for understanding it to mean' a lengthened
pl'riod,' i.e., an immense lapse of time. Such a construction would be i1J-
aùmi
8ible in the Hebrew, or an
T other lang-uage. It is difficult to acquit
Hu(rh ::\liller of an equivocation here. In real truth, the seeond narrative
is,
we have belor
ubserved, of diò5tinct origin from the fir
t, and we ill-
cline to the belief that, in this case also, 'day' is .to be takcn in its proper
signification.

2 Testimony, p. T 34.

jJI08aic C08Jllogony.

243

pened, as assulned in the explanation adopted by
Archdeacon Pratt, but of certain occurrences \vhich
,yere presented to hinl in a vision, and that thi

yision greatly deceived hilll as to \vhat he seemed
to see; and thus, in effect, the real discrepancy of
the narrative \vith facts is admitted. He had in
aU, seven visions, to each of ,vhich he attributed the
duration of a day, although indeed eacll picture
presented to him the earth during seyen long and dis-
tinctly marked epochs. 'Vhile on tlle one hand this
supposition admits all desirable latitude for nlistakes
and misrepre8entations, Hugh 1\Iiller, on t,he other
hand, endeavours to sho,v that a substantial agreement
,yith the truth exists, and to give sufficient reason
for the mistakes. "T e nlust let him speak for hin1-
self. 'The geologist, in his attempts to collate
the Divine ,vith the geologic record, has, I repeat,
only three of the six periods of creation to account
for I-the period of plants, the period of great sea-
Inonsters and creeping things, and the period of cattle
and beasts of the earth. He is called on to question
his systenls and forulations regarding the relnains of
these three great periods, and of them only. And the
question once fairly stated, \vhat, I ask, is the reply?
All geologists agree in holding that the vast geological
scale naturally divides into three great parts. r
eherc
are many lesser divisions-divisions into systems,
formations, deposits, beds, strata; but the master
divisions, in each of ,vhich we find a type of life so
unlike that of the others, that even the unpractised
eye can detect the difference, are simp1 y three: the
palæozoic, or oldest fossiliferous division; the secondary,

1 A v.ery inadn:isHib
e assertion. Any onc, be he g-eologist, astronomer,

heologum, or plll!olo
pst, who attempts to pxplain the Hebrew narrati\'c,
l
bound to take It WIth all that really belong
to it. And in truth, if the
fourth day really represented an epoch of creative activity, geology
would be able to give some account of it. There is no reason to suppose
that any intermission has taken place.
R 2

244

JIosaic C081ll0g011Y.

or middle fossiliferous division; and tIle tertiary, or
latest fossiliferous division. In the first, or palæozoic
division, ,ye find corals, crustaceans, nlolluscs, fishes;
and in its later forulations, a fe,v reptiles. But none of
these classes give its leading character to the palæozoic;
t hey do not constitute its prolninent feature, or render
it more renlarkable as a scene of life than any of the
divisions \vhicll follo,ved. That \vhich chiefly dis-
tinguished the palæozoic from the seeondary and
t,ertiary periods 'Ya
its gorgeous flora. It ,vas eI11-
phatically the period of plants-' of herbs yielding
seed after their kind.' In no other age <lid the ,vorld
ever \vitness such a flora; tIle youth of the earth V\
as
peculiarly a green and u111brageous youtIl-a youth of
dusk and tangled forests, of huge pines and stately
araucarians, of the repd-like calanlite, the tall tree-fern,
the sculptured sigillaria, and the hirsute lepidodendrons.
'Vherever dry land, or shallo\v lakes, or running streanl
appeared, fron1 ,vhere 1\Ielville Island now spreads out
its icy coast under the star of the pole, to 'v here the
arid plains of Australia lie solitary beneath the bright
cross of the south, a rauk and luxuriant herbage CUlll-
here<l every foot-breadth of the dank and stean1ing soil;
and even to distant planets our eart,h 111ust have shone
throngIl the enveloping cloud \vith a green and deli-
cate ray. The geologic evidence is so con1-
plete as to be patent to all, that the first great period
of organized being ,vas, as described in the l\Iosaic
record, peculiarly a period of herbs and trees 'yielding
seed after their kind.'
, The nliddle great period of the geologist-that of
the secondary division-possessed, like the earlier one,
its herbs and plants, but they ,vere of a greatly less
] uxnriant and con
picuous character than their pre-
decessors, and no longer forIlled the prol11inent trait
or feature of the creation to 'v hich they belonged.
The period had also its corals, its crustaceans, its
n10lluscs, its fishes, and in some one or t,vo excep-

AIosaic COS}}lOgOJlY.

245

tional instances, its d\varf mamlnals. But the grand
existences of the age-the existences in \vhich it ex-
celled every other creation, earlier or later-\vere its
huge creeping things-its enormous monsters of the
deep, and, as sho\vn by the impressions of their foot-
prints stamped upon the rocks, its gigantic birds. It
\vas peculiarly the age of egg-bearing aninlals, \vinged
and \yingless. Its \vonderful
Ðhales, not ho\vever, as
no\v, of the mamlnalian, but of the reptilian class,
-ichthyosaurs, plesiosaurs, and cetosaurs, must
have telnpested the deep; its creeping lizards and
crocoùiles, such as the teliosaurus, megalosaurus, and
iguanodon-creatures, some of \vhich more than
rivalled the existing elephant in height, and greatly
lllore than rivalled hinl in bulk-must have cro\"ded
the plains, or haunted by myriads the rivers of the
period; and \ve kno\v that the foot-prints of at least
one of its 111any birds are of fully t\vice the size of
those made by the horse or caIne!. 'Ve are thus pre-
pared to denlonstrate, that the second period of the
geologist was peculiarly and characteristically a period
of ,,
hale-like reptiles of the sea, of enornlOUS creeping
reptiles of the land, and of numerous birds, some of
theln of gigantic size; and in meet accordance \vith
the fact, ,ve find that the second l\Iosaic period \vith
,vhich the geologist is called on to deal, "Tas a period in
\vhich God crpated the fo\vl that flieth above the
earth, ,vith moving (or creeping) creatures, both in
the wat,ers and on land, and ,vhat our translation
renders great \vhales, but that I find rendered in the
lnargin great sea-monsters. The tertiary period had
also its prominent class of existences. Its flora seems
to have bepn no more conspicuous than that of the
present tinle; its reptiles occupy a very subordinate
place; but its beasts of the field \vere by far the most
,vonderfully developed, both in size and nunl bers, that
ever appeared on earth. Its Inanll110ths and its lTIaS-
todons, its rhinoceri and its hippopotami, its enornlOUS

246

lJIosaic C087IZO,9ony.

dinotherium, and colossal luegatherium, greatly more
than equalled ill bulk the hugest l11arrnnals of the
present time, and vastly exceeded t,henl in number.

* *, Grand, indeed,' says an English naturalist,
, \vas the fauna of the Briti
h Islands in these early
aays. Tigers as large again as the biggest Asiatic
species lurked in the ancient thickets; elephants of
nearly t\vice the bulk of the largest individuals that
no\v exist in Africa or Ceylon roamed in l1erds; at
]east t,vo
pecies of rhinoceros forced their ,yay
through the primæval forest; and the lakes and
l"i vers ,v
re tenanted by hi ppopota1ni as bulky and
,yith as great tusks as those of Africa.' The n1assive
cave-bear and large cave-hyæna belonged to i.he san1e
forlnidable group, "\vith at least t\VO species of great
oxen (Bo8 IOJlgijj'OJl8 and B08 prÏJuigenius), ,vith a horse
of sn1aller size, and an elk (J.}Ief/acerro8 Ilibernicu8) that
stood ten feet four inches in height. TTuly this
'l'ertiary age-this third and last of the great geologic
periods-"\vas peculiarly the age of great 'beast
of
the earth after their kind, and cattle after their kind.' ,
Thus by dropping the invertebrata, and the eaTlyfishes
and rpptiles of the Palæozoic period as inconspicuou

and of little account, and bringing prominently fo1'-
"rard the carboniferous era \vhich succeeded thenl as the
1110st characteristic feature of the first great division,
by classing the great land reptiles of the secondary
period ,yith the 1110ving creatures of the ,vaters, (for
in the 1\Iosaic account it does not appear that any
inhabitants of the land \vere created on the fifth day),
and evading the fact that terrestrial I.eptiles seem to
have preceded birds in their Ordel" of appearance upon
earth, the geologic divisions are tolerably \yell assÏIni-
lated to the third, fifth, and sixth l\Iosaic days. 'l'hese
things ,vere represented, \ve are told, to Moses in
yisiol1ary pictures, and resulted in the short and
SUlll111aTY account \vhich he has given.
rrhere is something in this hypothesis very near to

J1Iosaic C'OSU10[l0?1Y.

247

the OhVIOUS truth, \vhile at the saIne tin1e s0111ething
very ren10te from that truth is meant to be inferred.
If it be said the 1\Iosaic account is simply the specu-
lation of
ome early Copernicus or N e\vton ,vho
devised a scheme of t.he earth's forlnation, as nearl)""
as he n1ight in aecordance ,vith his o,vn observations
of nature, and ,vith such vie\,,"s of things as it ,vas
possible for an unassisted thinker in those days to
take, we may adll1ire the approximate correctness of
the picture dra\vn, \vhile ,ye see that the "Triter, as
nlight be expected, took everything from it different
point of vie\v fron1 ourselves, and consequently repre-
sented much quite differently froln the fact. But
nothing of this sort is really ìnt,ended. We are
asked to believe that a vision of creation ,vas
presented to hinl by Divine po\ver, for the purpose
of enabling hÏ1n to inforn1 the ,vorld of \yhat he had
sepn, \vhich vision inevitably led hill1 to give a de-
scription \vhich has 1l1isled the ,vorld for. centuries,
and in ,vhich the truth can no\v only \vith difficulty
be recognisec1. The Hebre\v \vriter inforn1s us that
on the third c1a y 'the earth brought forth grass, the
herb yielding seed after his kind, and the tree yield-
ing fruit, ,vhose seed \vas in itself, after his kind;'
and in the 29th verse, that God on the sixth day said,
'Behold, I have given you every herb bearing seed,
\vhich is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree
in the \vhich is the fruit of a tree yielding seed, to you
it shall be for meat. And to every beast of the earth,
and to every fo\vl of the air, and to everything that
creepeth upon the earth, \vherein there is life, I have
given every green herb for n1eat.' Can it be disputed
that the ,vriter here conceives that grass, corn, and
fruit, \vere created on the third day, and ,vith a vie\v
to the future nourishlllent of Inan and beast ? Yet,
according to the vision hypothesis, he Inust have been
greatly deceived; for that luxuriant vegetation \vhich
he sa\v on t.he third day, consistpd not of plants des-

248

}'Iosaic Cos1no/lony.

tined for the food of lllan, but for hi
fuel. It was the
flora of the carboniferous period \vhich he beheld, con-
cerning ,vhich I
Iugh l\1iller makes the follo\ving re-
mark, p. 24 :-' 1'he existing plants ,vhence we derive
our analogies in dealing with the vegetation of this
early period, contribute but little, if at all, to the sup-
port of animal life. The ferns and their allies remain
untouched by the grazing anin1als. Our native club-
n10sses, thougll once used in medicine, are positively
deleterious; the horsetails, though harmless, so abound
in silex, \vhicll wraps then1 round with a cuticle of
stone, that tlley are rarely cropped by cattle; while
the thickets of fern ,vhich cover our hill-sides, and
seem so temptingly rich and green in their season,
scarce support the existence of a single creature, and
remain untouched in sten1 and leaf from their first
appearance in spring, until they droop and ,vither
under the frosts of early \vinter. Even the insects
that infest tIle herbaria of the botanist almost never
injure his ferns. Nor are our resin-producing conifers,
though they nourish a fe\v beetles; favourites \vith the
herbivorous tribes in a much greater degree. Judging
from all \ve yet kno\v, the earliest terrestrial flora may
have covered the dry land \vith its mantle of cheer-
ful green, and 'served its general purposes, chen1ica]
and others, in the \vell-balanced econon1Y of nature;
but the herb-eating anilnals ,vould have fared but ill,
even ,vhere it throve n10st luxuriantly; and it seems
to harlTIonize with the fact of its uuedible character
that up to the present time ,ve kno\v not that a
single herbivorous animal lived anlongst its shades.'
The Mosaic ,vriter is, ho\vever, according to the theory,
111isled by the mere appearance of luxurious vegeta-
tion, to describe fruit trees and edible seed-bearing
vegetables as products of the third day.
Hugh Miller's treatment of the description of the
first da\vn of light is not more satisfactory than that
of Dr. Buckland. He supposes the prophet in his

JIosaic C'OS}}lOgOJ1Y.

249

drealn to have heard the cOlnmand 'Let there be light'
enunciated, ,\Thereupon 'straight,vay a grey diffused
light springs up in the east, and cas
ing its sicily gleanz
over a cloud-lin1ited expanse of stea111ing vaporous
sea, journeys through the heavens towards the west.
One heavy, sunless day is 11lade the representative of
myriads; the faint light waxes fainter,-it sinks be-
neath the dim, undefined horizon.'
'Ve are then asked to imagine that a second and a
third day, each representing the characteristic features
of a great distinctly-marked epoch, and the latter of
theln 111arked by the appearance of a rich and luxuriant
vegetation, are presented to the seer's eye; but ,vithout
sun, moon, or stars as yet entering into his drean1.
These appear first in his fourth vision, and then for the
first tin1e ,ve have 'a Lrilliant day,' and the seer,
struck ",.ith the novelty, describes the heavenly bodies
as being the most conspicuous objects in the picture.
In reality "'"e know that he represents then1 (v. 16) as
having been 1/zade and set in the heavens on that day,
though Hugh l\Iiller avoids rerránding us of this.
In one respect the theory of Hugh 1\liller agrees \vith
that advocated by Dr. Buckland anù Archdeacon Pratt.
Both these theories divest the 1\Iosaic narrative of real
accordance with fact; both assume that appearances
only, not facts, àre described, and that in riddles, which
would never haye been suspected to be such, had ,ve
not arrived at the truth fro111 other sources. It ,vould
be difficult for controyersialists to cede more completely
the point in dispute, or to adn1it n10re explicitly
that the l\tlosaic narrative does not represent correctly
the history of the universe up to t.he tin1e of man.
At the saIne time, the upholders of each theory see
insuperable objections in details to that of their allies,
and do not pretend to any firm faith in their o\vn.
Ho,v can it be other,vise 'v hen the task proposed is to
evade the plain meaning of language, and to introduce
obscurity into one of the sinlplest stories ever told,

250

J,Iosaic COSlJ10/lOJlY.

for the sake of nlaking it accord \vith the conlplex
system of the universe \vhich nlodern science has un-
folded? The spectacle of able and, we douht not,
conscientious ''''Titers engaged in attempting tIle im-
possible is painful and hunliliating. They evidently
do not breathe freely over their ,york, but shume
and stunlble over thei
difficulties in a piteous manner;
nor are they theulsel ves again until they return to the
pure and open fields of science.
It is refreshing to return to the often-echoed remark,
that it could not have been the object of a Divine
revelation to instruct mankind in physical science,
lnan having had faculties besto\ved upon ]liln to enable
hiln to acquire this kno\vledge by llilnself. This is in
fact pretty generally adlllitted; but in the application of
the doctrine"vriters play at fast and loose \vith it accord-
ing to circunlstances. Thus an inspired \vriter nlay be
permitted to allude to the phenOll1ena of naturè ac-
cording to the vulgar vie"
of SUC}l things, \yithout
i1l1peachment of his better kno,vlec1ge; but if he speaks
of the saIne phenolnena assertively, ,ve are bound to
suppose that things are as he represents them, however
much our kno,vledge of nature nlay be disposed to
recalcitrate. But if \ve find a difficulty in adnlitting that
such misrepresentations can find a place in revelation,
the difficulty lies in our having previously assul1led
what a Divine revelation ought to be. If God nlade use
of inlperfectly infofll1ed nlen to lay the foundations of
that higher kno\vledge for \vhich the human race ,vas
destined, is it \vonderful that they should have conl-
mitted thenlsel yes to assertions not in accordance ,vith
facts, although they Inay have believed them to be
true? On \vhat grounds has the popular notion of
Divine revelation been built up ? Is it not plain that
the plan of Providence for the education of man is a
progressive one, and as irnperfect. Inen have been used
as the agents for teaching ITIankind, is it not to be
expected that their teachings should be partial and, to

11Iosaic OOSJJlogOJl!l.

0- 1
fto'Ù

SOIne extent, erroneous? ..L
c1nlitted, as it is, that
physical science is not ,vhat the Hebre\v "
riters, for
the nlost part, profess to convey, at any rate, that it
is not on account of the conlffiunication of such
kllo\vledge that ,ve attach any value to their ,vritings,
why should \ve hesitate to recognise their fallibility
on this head?
Adnlitting, as is historical1y and in fact the case,
that it ,vas the nlission of the Hebre,v race to lay the
foundation of religion upon the earth, and that Pro-
vidence used this people specially for this purpose, is it
not our business and our duty to look and see ho\v
this has really been done? not fornling for ourselves
theories of ,vhat a revelation ought to be, or ho\v \ve,
if entru:-,ted ,vith the task, ,vould have Inade one, but
enquiring ho,v it has pleased God to do it. In all his
theories of the ,vorld, lnan has at first deviated ,videly
from the truth, and has only gradually come to see
ho,v far other,vise God has ordered things than the
fir:5t daring speculator had supposed. It has been
popularly assumed that the Bible, bearing the stamp
of Divine authority, nlust be complete, perfect, and
uninlpeachable in all its parts, and a thousand diffi-
culties and incoherent doctrines have sprung out of
this theory. l\Ien have proceeded in the Iuatter of
theology, as they did ,vith physical science before in-
ductive philosophy sent thelll to the feet of nature,
and bid thell1 learn in patience and obedience the
lessons ,vhich she had to teach. Dognla and groundless
assumption occupy the place of nlodest enquiry after
truth, ,vhile at the salue tinle the upholders of these
theories clainl creùit for hUlllility and subnlissiveness.

rhis is exactly inverting the fact; the hUlllble schola r
of truth is not he ,vho, taking his stand upon th e
traditìons of rabbins, Christian fathers, or schoo 1-
nlen, insists upon bending facts to his unyieldin g
standard, but he ,vho is ,villing to accept such teachill g
as it has pleased Divine Providence to afford, ,vithou t

252

J
o8aic l708nlo9ony.

murmuring that it has not been furnished more
copiously or clearly.
The He bre,v race, tlleir ,yorks, and their books, are
great facts in the history of n1an; the influence of
the mind of this people upon the rest of nlankind has
been immen
e and peculiar, and there can be no diffi-
culty in recognising therein the hand of a directing
Providence. But \ve may not n1ake ourselves ,viser
than God, nor attribute to Hinl methods of procedure
,vhich are not His. If, then, it is plain that He has
not thought it needful t,o communicate to the ,vriter
of the Cosmogony that kno,vledge ,vhich modern re-
searches have revealed, ,vhy do we not acknowledge
this, except that it conflicts ,vith a hun1an theory
,vhich presumes to point out }lO'V God ought to have
instructed man? 1 l he treatment to ,vhich the 1YIosaic
narrative is subjected by the theological geologists is
anything but respectful. The ,vriters of this schoo],
as ,ve have seen, agree in representing it as a series of
elaborate equivocations-a story which' palters ,vith
us in a double sense.' But if ,ve regard it as the
speculation of some Hebre\v Descartes or N e,vton,
promulgated in all good faith as the best and most
probable account that could be then given of God's
universe, it resumes the dignity and value of "\vhich
the writers in question have done their utlTIOst to de-
prive it. It has been sometimes felt as a difficulty to
taking this vie\v of the case, that the \vriter asserts so
solemnly and unhesitatingly t.hat for ,vhich he lllUst
have known that he had no authority. But this arises
only from our modern 11abits of thought, and froIl1
the modesty of assertion ,vhich the spirit of true science
has taught us. }iankind has learnt caution through
repeated slips in the process of tracing out the truth.
The early speculator ,vas harassed by no such
scruples, and asserted as facts ,vhat he knew in reality
only as probabilities. But ,ve are not on that account
to doubt his perfect good faith, nor need ,ve attribute

JIosaic CosmogoJlY_

253

to hilTI \vilful misrepresentation, or consciousness of
asserting that \vhich he kne\v not to be true. He had
seized one great truth, in \vhich, indeed, he anticipated
the highest revelation of modern enquiry
namely,
the unity of the design of the "\vor.1d, and its subordi-
nation to one sole }Iaker and La\vgiver. 'Vith regard
to details, observation failed hÏ1n. He kne,v little of
the earth's surface, or of its shape and place in the
uni\Terse; the infinite varieties of organized existences
\vhich people it, the distinct floras and faunas of its
different continents, \vere unkno\vn to hinl. But he
sa\v that all ,vhich lay ,vithin his observation had been
fornled for the benefit and service of n1an, and the
goodness of the Creator to his creatures ,vas the
thought predolninant in his mind. l\Ian's closer rela-
tion to his l\Iaker is indicated by the representation
that he \vas forn1ed last of all creatures, and in the
visible likeness of God. For ages, this simple vie,,,"
of creation satisfied the ,vants of man, and formed a
sufficient basis of theological teaching, and if modern
research now sho,vs it to be physically untenable, our
respect for the narrative ,vhich has played so important
a part in the culture of our race need be in no\vise
dinlÏnished. No one contends that it can be used as
a basis of astronon1ical or geological teaching, and
those ,,- ho profess to see in it an accordance ,vith facts,
only do this 8ub 'JJlodo, and by processes ,vhich despoil
it of its consistency and grandeur, both \vhich nlay
be preserved if \ve recognise in it, not an authentic
utterance of Divine kno\vledge, but a hun1an utterance,
,vhich it has pleased Proyidence to use in a special
,yay for the education of 111ankind.

TENDENCIES OF RELIGIOUS THOUGHT
IN ENGLAND, 1688- 1 75 0 .

.

T HE thirty years of peace ,vhich succeeded the
Peace of Utrecht (17 1 4), '-\vas the most prosperous
season that England llad ever experienced; and the
progression, though slo\v, being uniform., the reign of
George II. might not disadvantageously be compared
for the real happiness of the comnlunity ,vith that
more brilliant, but uncertain and oscillatory condition
\vhich has ensued. A labourer's \vages have never for
D1any ages comnlanded so large a portion of sub-
sistence as in this part of the 18th century.' (Hallan1,
COrlst. Ilist. ii. 464.)
This is the aspect ,vhich that period of history
,years to the political philosopher. The historian of
moral and religious progress, on the other hand, is
under the necessity of depicting the sanle period as
one of decay of religion, licentiousness of lnorals, pub-
1ic corruption, profaneness of language-a day of
, rebuke and blasphemy.' Even those "Tho look ,vith
suspicion on the contenlporary complaints from the
Jacobite clergy of ' decay of religion' ,yill not hesitate
to say that it "Tas an age destitute of depth or earnest-
ness; an age \vhose poetry was \vithout romance,
,vhose philosophy ,vas \vithout insight, and "hose
public nlell \vere \vithout character; an age of 'light
,vithout love,' \"hose ' very lnerits ,,--ere of the eartJl,
earthy.' In this estill1ate the follo\vers of l\Iill and
Carlyle ,viII agree ,vith those of'Dr. N e,vn1an.

Telldellcies of Religious Thought in England. 235
The Stoical nloralists of the second century ,vho
,vitnessed a sinlÏlar coincidence of moral degradation
and nlaterial \velfare, had no difficulty in connecting
thenl together as effect \vith cause. 'Bona rerurn
secundarum optabilia, adversarum n1irabilia.' (Seneca,
ad Lucit. 66.) nut the famous theory ,vhich satisfied
the political philosophers of antiquity, viz., that the
degeneracy of nations is due to the inroads of luxury,
is laughed to scorn by nlodern econonlists. It is at
any rate a theory ,vhich can hardly be adopted by
those \vho pour ulllneasured contempt on the 18th, by
,yay of contrast \vith the revival of higher principles
by the 19th century. It is especially since the High
Church lllovement cOlnrnenced that the theology of
the 18th century has become a bye,vord. The genuine
Anglican onlits that period fron1 the history of the
Church altogether. In constructing his Cate'/læ Patruul
he closes his list ,vith 'Vaterland or Brett, and leaps
êi.t once to 1833, ,vhen the Tracts for the TÙues COIn-
D1enced-as Charles II. dated his reign froin his
father's death. Such a legal fiction l11ay be harmless
or useful for purposes of 111ere form, but the facts of
history cannot be disposed of by forgetting them.
Both the Church and the ,,"'orld of to-day are \vhat
they are as the result of the 'v hole of their antecedents.
The history of a party n1ay be ,vritten on the theory
of periodical occultation; but he \vho ,vishes to trace the
descent of religiou:5 thought, and the practical \vorking
of the religious iùeas, must follo,v these through all the
phases they have actually assun1ed. 'Ve have not yet
learnt, in this country, to ,yrite our ecclesiastical history
on any better footing than that of praising up the party,
in or out of the Church, to \yhich \ve ha})pen to belong.
Still further are \ve fron1 any attempt to apply the
]a,vs of thought, and of the succession of opinion, to
the course of English theology. The recognition of
the fact, that the vie,y of the eternal veritie
of religion
,yhich prevails in any given age is in part detern1ined

256 Tendencies of Reli!Jiol's Thought in England,
by the vie,v taken in the age "\vhich preceded it, is
incolllpatible \vith the hypothesis generally prevalent
among us as to the mode in ,vhich \ve form our notions
of religious truth. Upon none of the prevailing
theories as to this mode is a deductive history of
theology possible. I. The Catholic theory, vvhich is
really that of Roman-Catholics, and professedly that
of some Anglo-Catholics, wit.hdra\vs Christianity alto-
gether from human experience and the operation of
the ordinary la,vs of thought. 2. The Protestant
theory of free inquiry, vvhich supposes that each mind
takes a survey of the evidence, and strikes the balance
of probability according t.o the best of its judgment-
this theory, defers indeed to the abstract la\vs of logic,
but overlooks the influences of education. If, ,vithout
hypothesis, ,ve are content to observe facts, we shall
find that ,ve cannot decline to study the opinions of
any age only because they are not our o,vn opinions.
There is a ht\v of continuity in the progress of theology
which, whatever we may wish, is never broken off'.
In tracing the filiation of consecutive systems, ,ve
cannot afford to overlook any link in the chain, any
age, except one in ,vhich religious opinion did not
exist. Certainly ,ve, in this our time, if \ve ,vouhl
understand our o\vn posit.ion in the Church, and tlJat
of the Church in the age, if ,ve ,voulù hold any clue
through the maze of religious pretension ,vhich sur-
rounds us, cannot neglect those il1l1nediate agencies in
the production of the present, ,vhich had their origin
to\varc1s the beginning of the 18th century.
Of these agencies there are three, the present in-
fluence of \vhich eannot escape the nlost inattentive.
I. The fornlation and gradual gro\vth of that conlpromise
bet,veen Church and State, \vhich is called Toleration,
and \v hich, believed by nlany to be a principle, is a
mere arrangement bet,veen t,vo principles. But such
as it is, it is part of our heritage from the last agç,
and is the foundation, if foundation it can be called,

1688- I ï5 0 .

257

upon "Thich we still continue to build, as in the late
...
ct for the adlnission of the J e\V8 to Parlianlent. 2.
The great rekindling of the religious consciousness of
the people ,vhich, ,vithout the Established Church,
becanle l\Iethodisnl, and \vithin its pale has obtainpd
the name of the EvaJlgelical nlOYelnent. Ho\vever
decayed nlay be the Evangelical party as a party, it
cannot be denied that its influence, both on our reli-
gious ideas, and on our church life, has penetrated far
beyond those party lirnits. 3. The gro,vth and graùual
diffusion through all religious thinking of the su pre-
nlacy of reason. This, ,vhich is rather a principle, or
a nlode of thinking, than a doctrine, nlay be properly
enough called RationalislJl. This ternl is used in this
country \vith so much laxity that it is Í1npossible to
define the sense in \vhich it is generally intended.
But it is often taken to 111ean a system opposed to re-
vealed religion imported into this country froin Ger-
many at the beginning of the present century. A
person, howrever, who surveys the course of English
theology during the eighteenth century ,vill have no
difficulty in recognising that throughout all discussions,
underneath all controversies, and conlmon to all par-
ties, lies the assunlption of the suprenlacy of reason
in matters of religion. The ICal1tian Philosophy did
but bring for\vard into light, and give scientific fornl
and a recognised position to, HI principle \yhich had
long unconsciously guided all treatnlent of religious
topics both in Gernlany and in England. Rationalislll
was not an anti-Christian sect outside the Church
Inaking ,var against religion. It ,vas a habit of
thought ruling all nlinds, under the conditions of
,vhich all alike tried to nlake good the peculiar
opinions they might happen to cherish. The Church-
lllan differed fronl the Socinian, and the Socinian fronl
the Deist, as to the n Uln ber of articles in his creed;
but all alike consented to test their belief by the ra-
tional evidence for it. '\Vhether giyen doctrines or
s

258 1èJlaencie8 of Religiou8 Thollght in England,
nliracles ,vere conformable to reason or not \vas dis-
puted bet\veen the defence and the assault; but that
all doctrines ,vere to stand or fall by that cl
iterion
,vas not questioned. The principles and the priority
of naturall
eligion fornled the COnllTIOn hypothesis on
the ground of \vhicll tIle disputants argued whether
anything, and ,vhat, had been subsequently C0111Il1U-
nicated to lllan in a supernatural \vay.
rhe line
bet\yeen those \vho believed mucII and tllose who
believed little cannot be sharply dra\vn. SOllle of the
so-called Deists ,vere, in fact, Socinians; as Toland,
\vho expressly adnlits all those parts of the New
Testalnent revelation ,vhich are, or seem to hinl,
comprehensible by reason. (Christianity not ,JI!lste-
riolf8.) N or is there any ground for thinking that
Toland \vas insincere in his profession of rational
Christianity, as was insinuated by his opponents-e.g.
Leland. (Vt.ew oj' the IJeistical 11/riters, vol. i. p. 49.)
A more candid adversary, J..Jeibnitz, ,vho kne\v r
roland
personally, is 'glad to believe that the design of this
autllor, a man of no COffinlon ability, and as I think,
a ,yell-disposed person, ,vas to withdraw men from
speculative theology to the practice of its precepts.'
(
lJlllotatiltnclllæ 8ubitaneæ.) Hardly one here and
there, as RUllle, professed Ratiol1ali
ln in the extent
of Atheism; the great nlajority of \vriters ,vere
elnployed in constructing a via 111edia bet,veen Atheis111
and Athanasianism, ,vhile the n10st orthodox \vere
diligently 'he,ving and chiselling Christianity into an
intelligible human system, \vhich they then represented,
as tIlus mutilated, as affording a l'elnarkable evidence
of the truth of the Bible.' (1ì
acts for the 2 lJlles,
vol. ii. No. 73.) The title of Locke's treatise, 1Ïte
Reasonableness of Christi(uril!/, nlay be said to have
been the solitary thesis of Christian theology in Eng-
land for great part of a century.
If \ye are to put chronologicallilllits to this systenl
ûf religious opinion in England, we might, for the

1688- 1 75 0 .

259

sake of a convenient landmark, say that it came in
with the Revolution of 1688, and began to decline in
vigour ,vith the reaction against the Reform Inovement
about 18 3 0 . J..Jocke'g Reasonaóleness of Chlristianl
t!/
,vould t.hus open, and t.he commencement of the 1
racts
for the línles mark the fall of Rationalism. Not that
chronology can ever be exactly applied to the mutations
of opinion. For there were Rationalists before Locke,
e.!!. Hales of Eton, and other Arminians, nor has the
Church of England unanimously adopted the principles
of the l'ractsjor the ll'JJzes. But if we ,vere to follovt'"
up Cave's nomenclature, t,he appel1ation SeculuJJl ro-
tionalisticulll might be affixed to the eighteenth century
with greater precision than many of his names apply
to the previous centuries. For it was not n1erely that
Rationalism then obtruded itself as a heresy, or ob-
tained a footing of toleration ,vithin the Church, but
the rationalizing method possessed itself absolutely of
the whole field of theology. vVith some trifling ex-
ceptions, the whole of religious literature "Tas dra,vn
in to the endeavour to ' prove the truth' of Christianity.
The essay and the sermon, the learned treatise and
the philosophical disquisition, Addison the polite
writer, and Bentley the classical philologian (Addison:
Evidences of the Christian Religion, a posthumous pub-
lication. Bentley: Eight SerJJlOnS at Boyle's Lecture,
1692), the astronomer N e,vton (Four LettelJ'"s,
c.,
Lond. I 75 6 ), no less than the t.heologians by profession,
,vere all engaged upon the same task. To one book
of A. Collins, Ll Discourse on the Grounds and Reoson8
oj the ChlJ.islian Relij;io?z, Lond. 1724, are counted no
less than thirty-five answers. Dogmatic theology had
ceased to exist; the exhibition of religious truth for
practical purposes ,,"as confined to a fe,v 0 bscure
,vriters. Everyone who had anything to say on
sacred subjects drilled it into an array of argunlent
against a supposed objector. Christianity appeared
Inaùe for nothing else but to be 'proved;' what use to
s 2

260 Tendencies of Religiou8
l'holfght z"n England,
make of it when it was proved was not much thought
about. Reason ,vas at first offered as the basis of.
faith, but gradually became its substitute. The mind
never advanced as far as the stage of belief, for it ,vas
unceasingly engaged in reasoning up to it. The only
quality in Scripture which \vas d,velt upon ,vas its
(credibility.' Even the (Evangelical' school, which
had its origin in a reaction against the dominant Ra-
tionalism, and began in endeavours to kindle religious
feeling, ,vas obliged to succumb at last. It, too, dre\v
out its rational (scheme of Christianity,' in which the
atonement was made the central point of a system,
and the death of Christ ,vas accounted for as necessary
to satisfy the Divine Justice.
This ,vhole rationalist 3ge must again be subdi-
vided into two periods, the theology of ,vhich, though
belonging to the common type, has distinct specific
characters. These periods are of nearly equal length,
and we may conveniently take the middle year of the
century, 1750, as our terminus of division. 'Though
both periods were engaged upon the proof of Christi-
anity, the distinction bet\veen thenl is that the first
period was chiefly devoted to the internal, the second
to the external, attestations. In the first period the
main endeavour ,vas to sho\v that there ,vas nothing
in the contents of the revelation which ,,ya
not agree-
able to reason" In the second, fronl. 1750 on\vards,
the controversy was narro\ved to ,vhat are usually
called the 'Evidences,' or the historical proof of the
genuineness and authenticity of the Christian records.
Fro m this distinction of topic arises an important
difference of value between the theological produce
of the two periods. A great injustice is done to the
18th century, when its whole speculative product is
set do\vn under tIle description of tllat Old Bailey
theology in ,vhich, to use Johnson's illustration, the
Apostles are being tried once a ,veek for the capital
crime of forgery. This evidential school-the school

1688- 1 75 0 .

261

of Lardner, Paley, and'Vhately-belongs strictly to
the latter half only of the period now under con-
sideration. This school, ,vhich treated the exterior
evidence, \vas the natural sequel and supplement of
that \vhich had preceded it, \yhich dealt \vith the in-
trinsic credibility of the Christian revelation. This
historical succession of the schools is the logical order
of the argllll1ent. For ,vhen we have first sho,vn that
the facts of Christianity are not incredible, the ,vhole
burden of proof is shifted to the evidence that the
facts did really occur. Neither branch of the argu-
nlent can claÏ1n to be religious instruction at all, but
the former does incidentally enter upon the substance
of the Gospel. It nlay be philosophy rather than
theology, but it raises in its course some of the nlost
monlentous problenls \vhich can engage the hunlan
nlind. On the other hand, a mind ,vhich occupies
itself ,vith the ' external evidences' kno,vs nothing of
the spiritual intuition, of vvhich it renounces at once
the difficulties and the consolations. The supply of
evidences in ,vhat for the sake of a name may be called
the Georgian period (1750-1830), \vas not occasioned
by any deluands of controversy. The attacks through
the press \vere nearly at an end, the Deists had ceased
to be. The clergy continued to manufacture evidence
as an ingenious exercise, a literature ,vhich ,vas avo\v-
edly professional, a study ,vhich lnigllt seenl theology
\vithout being it, ,vhich could a\vaken none of the
scepticism then dormant beneath the surface of society.
Evidences are not edged tools; they stir no feeling;
they -\vere the proper theology of an age, ,vhose li-
terature consisted in ,vriting Latin hexall1eters. ']]1e
orthodox school no longer dared to scrutinize the con-
tents of revelation. The preceding period had eli-
minated the religious experience, the Georgian had
lost besides, the po\ver of using the speculative rea-
son.
The historical investigation, indeed, of the Orir;ÏJze8

262 Tende1ícies of Relzi;ious Thought in England,
of Christianity is a study scarcely second in inlportance
to a philosophical arrangement of its doctrines. But
for a genuine inquiry of this nature tIle English \vriters
of the period had neither the taste nor the kno\vledge.
Gibbon alone approached the true difficulties, but met
only with opponents 'victory over whonl was a suffi-
cient hUlniliation.' (Autobiography.) No Englishman
will refuse to join with Coleridge in 'the adnliration'
he expresses 'for the head and heart' of Paley, 'the
incomparable grace, propriety, and persuasive facility
of llÌs writings.' (Aids to Reflectioll, p. 401.) But
Paley had unfortunately dedicated his po\vers to a
factitious thesis; his demonstration, ho\vever perfect,
is in unreal 11latter. The case, as the apologists of
that day stated it, is \vholly conventional. The
breadth of their assumptions is out of all proportion
to the narro\v din1ensions of the point they succeed in
proving. Of an honest critical enquiry into the origin
and composition of the canonical \vritings there is but
one trace, Herbert l\Iarsll's Lectures at Calnbridge, and
that \vas suggested from a foreign source, and died
a\vay \vithout exciting Í1nitators. 'l]lat investigation,
introduced by a bishop and a professor of divinity, has
scarcely yet obtained a footing in the English Church.
But it is excluded, not from a conviction of its barren..
ness, but from a fear that it lllight prove too fertile in
results. This un\vholesonle state of theological feeling
anlong us, is perhaps traceable in part to the falsetto
of the evidential method of the last generation. \Ve
cannot justify, but ,ve n1ay perhaps make our predeces-
sors bear part of the blalne of: that inconsistency, \vhich
,vhile it professes that its religious belief rests on his-
torical evidence, refuses to allo\v that evidence to be
freely exalnined in open court.
It seems, indeed, a singular infelicity that the con-
struction of the historical proof should have been the
task \vllich the course of events allotted to the latter
half of the 18th century. The critical kno\vledge of

1688- 1 75 0 .

263

antiquity had disappeared from the Universities. The
past, discreclited by a false conservatiS111, ,vas regarded
,vith aversion, and the minds of nlen directed habitually
to the future, some \vith fear, others \vith hope. 'The
diRrespect in ,vhieh history ,vas held by the French
philosop!tes is notorious; one of the soberest of them,
D' Alembert, "Te believe, ,vas the author of the ,vish
that all record of past e\"'ents could be blotted
out.' (J\Iill, JJissertatioJls, vol. i. p. 426.) "The Sa111e
sentiment ,vas prevalent, though not in the same
degree, in this country. RUlne \vriting to an English-
man in 17 Sf), speaks of 'your countrymen' as 'given
over to barbarous and ab
urd faction.' Of his o,vn
history the publisher, l\Iillar, told hill1 he had only
sold forty-five copies in a t,velvemonth. (lJI!I Own
Life, p. s.) 'Varburton had long before cOll1plained of
the Chronicles published by Hearne that 'there is not
one that is not a disgrace to lett,ers; most of them are
so to COlnnlon sense, and some even to hUll1an nature.'
(Parr's 1'racts, &'c., p. 109.) The oblivion into ,vhie11
thp remains of Christian antiquity had sunk, till
disinterred by the Tractarian movement" is ,veIl kno,vn.
Having neither the critical tools to ,york ,vith, nor
the historical nlaterials to ,vork upon, it is no wonder
if they failed in their art. Theology had alnlost died
out ,vhen it received a ne\v impulse and a ne,v direc-
tion froll1 Coleridge. "rhe evidence-ll1akers ceased froll1
their futile labours all at once, as brneath the spell of
SOllle magician. Englishmen heard \vith as nluch
surprise as if the doctrine ,vas ne,v, that the Christian
faith, the Athanasian Creed, of \vhich they had come
to ,vish that the Church ,vas ,veIl rid, ,vas 'the per-
fection of hU111an intelligence;' that. 'the compatibility
of a document ,vith the conclusions of self-evident
reason, and \vith the la \VS of conscience, is a condition
a priori of any evidence adequate to the proof of its
having been revealed by God,' and that this 'is a
principle clearly laid do\vn by }Ioses and St. Paul;'

264 Tendencies of Religiolt8 Thought z.n England,
lastly, that c there are mysteries in Christianity, but
that t.hese mysteries are reason, reason in its highest
forIn of self-affirnlation.' (Aids to Reflection, pref.
Lit. Re
JlaiJl8, iii. 293.) In this position of Coleridge,
the rationalist theology of England, \v hich ,vas in the
last stage of decay and dotage, seelned to recover a
second youth, and to revert at once to the point
from \vhich it had started a century before.
Should the religious historian then ackno,v ledge
that the inlpatient conten1pt \"ith \vhich c the last
century' is no\v spoken of, is justifiable ,vith respect
to the later period, ,vith its artificial monotone of proof
that is no proof, he \vill by no means allo\v the same
of the earlier period ]688-1750. The superiority
'\vhich the theological writing of this period has over
that ,vhicIl succeeded it, is to be referred in part to the
superiority of tIle internal, over the external, proof of
Christianity, as an object of thought.
Both n1ethods alike, as methods of argumentative
proof, place the mind in an unfavourable attitude for
the consideration of religious truth. It is like re-
nloving ourselves for the purpose of examining an
object to the furthest point from ,vhicll the object is
visible. Neither the external nor the internal evidences
are properly theology at all. Theology is-1st, and
primarily, the contemplative, speculative habit, by
Ineans of ,vhich the mind places itself already in
anot.her ,vorld than this; a habit begun here, to be
raised to perfect vision hereafter. 2ndly, and in an
inferior degree, it is ethical and regulative of our con-
duct as men, in those relations ,vhich are temporal and
transitory. Argumentative proof that such kno,vledge
is possible can never be substituted for the kno,vledge
,,-.-ithout detrÌlnent to the n1ental habit. 'Vhat is true
of an individual is true of an age. 'Vhen an age is
found occupied in proving its creed, this is but a token
that the age has ceased to have a proper belief in it.
Nevertheless, there is a difference in this respect be-

I688- I ï5 0 .

265

t\veen the sources fronl ,vhich proof may be fetched.
1Vhere it is busied in establishing the 'genuinpness
and authenticity' of the books of Scripture, neglecting
its religious lessons, and dra,ving out instead 'the un-
designed coincidences,' Rationalism is seen in its
dullest and least spiritual form. 'Vllen, on the other
hand, the contents of the Revelation are bping freely
examined, and reason as it is called, but really the
philosophy in vogue, is being applied to determine
,vhether the voice be the voice of God or not, the rea-
soner is indeed approaching his sul
ject from a false
point of vie,v, but he is still engaged ,vith the eternal
verities. The reason has prescribed itself an ilnpossi-
bIe task ,vhen it has undertaken to prove, instead of
evolve then1; to argue instead of appropriate them.
But anyho,v, it is handling them; and by the contact
is raised in son1e Ineasure to the 'height of that great
argument.'
This ackno,vledgment seelns due to the period now
referred to. It is, perhaps, rather thinking of its
pulpit eloquence than its controversies, that Professor
Fraser does not hesitate to call this 'the golden age
of English theology.' (Essays in Philosophy, p. 205.)
Such language, as applied to our great preachers, ,vas
once matter of course, but ,vould no\v hardly be used
by any ..Ltnglican, and has to be sought for in the
Inouth of lllenlbers of another cOlnmunion. The
names ,vhich once commanded universal homage
among us-the Souths, Barrows, Tillotsons, Sherlocks,
-excite, perhaps, only a snlile of pity. Literary
taste is proverbially inconstant; but theological is still
more so, for here ,ve have no rule or chart to guide
us but the taste of our age. Bossuet, Bourdaloue,
and l\Iassillon have survived a dozen political revolu-
tions. 'Ve have no classical theology, though we
have not had a political revolution since 1660. For
in this subject matter the most of Englishmen have
no other standard of nlerit than the prejudices of sect.

2ô6 Tendrncies oj Religious Thollght in ERg/and,
Eminence only marks out a great man for nlore cordial
l1atred; every flippant Rigll Church revie\ver has
learnt to fling at Locke, the father of English Ra-
tionalism, and the greatest name among its ,yorthies.
Others are, perhaps, only less disliked because less
kno\vn; 'qui n' a pas de lecteuTs, n' a pas d' adversaire8.'
The principal ,vriters in tIle Deistical Controversy,
either side of it, have expiated the attention they once
engrossed by as universal an oblivion.
The Deistical Controversy, the all-absorbing topic
of religious writers and preachers during the ,vhole of
this first period, has pretty well-defined Iinlits. Stil-
lingfleet, who died Bishop of \tV orcester in the last
year (1699) of tIle seventeenth century, ma.rks the
transition from the old to the ne,v argument. In the
six folios of Stillingfleet's works may be found the
latest echoes of the Romanist Controversy, and the
first declaration of war against Locke. The Deistical
Controversy attaineù its greatest intensity in the
t,venties (1720-1740), after the subsidence of the Ban-
gorian controversy, whicll for a time had diverted
attention to itself, and it gradually died out to\vards
the nliddle of the century. The decay of interest in
the topic is sufficiently nlarked by the fact that t11e
opinions of Hume failed to stinlulate curiosity or an-
tagonisnl. His JJreatise of HUlJzaJl ]{atuTe (1739) 'fell
dead-born fronl the press,' and the only one of his
philosophical v,Titings which was received ,,,,ith fayonr
on its first appearance ,vas one on the ne,v topic-
Political IJz.scourses(1752). Of this he says 'it ,vas the
only ,vork of mine ,vhich v{as successful 011 the first
publication, being ,veIl received both abroad and at
hOlne.' (11Iy OUJn Life.) Bolingbroke, ,vho died in
175 I, ,vas the last of the professed Deists. 'Vhen
his ,yorks ,vere brought out by his executor, 1\Iallet,
in 1754, the interest in then1 ,vas already gone; they
found the public cold or indisposed. It ,vas a rusty
blunderbuss, \Y}lich he need not have been afraid to

1688- 1 75 0 .

267

have discharged himself, instead of I leaving half-a-
cro,vn to a Scotchman to let it off after his death.'
(Boswell, p. 88.) To talk Deism had ceased to be
fashionable as soon as it ceased to attract attention.
The rationalism, which is the common character of
all the \vriters of this tin1e, is a method rather than a
doctrine; an unconscious assumption rather than a
principle from 'v hich they reason. They \vould, how-
ever, all have consented in statelnents such as the fol-
lo\villg: Bp. Gibson, Second Pastoral Lette1'", 1730.
c Those an10ng us who have laboured of late years to
set up reason against revelation ,vould make it pass
for an established truth, that if you ,viII embrace
revelation you must of course quit your reason, ,vhich,
if it \vere true, would doubtless be a strong prejudice
against revelation. But so far is this fron1 being true,
that it is universally acknowledged that revelation itself
Ù$ to stand or full ó!/ the test 0/' reason, or, in other ,vords,
according as reason finds the evidences of its coming
from God to be or not to be sufficient and conclusive,
and the matter of it to contradict or not contradict the
natural notions ,vhich reason gives us of the being and
attributes of God.'
Prideaux (Humphrey, Dean of Nor,vich), Letter to
the JJeists, 1748. 'Let ,vhat is written in all the
books of the N. T. be tried by that ,vhich is the touch-
stone of all religions, I mean that religion of nature
and reason ,vhich God has ,vritten in the hearts of
everyone of us from the first creation; and if it varies
from it in anyone particular, if it prescribes anyone
thing ,vhich may in the n1inutest circumstances thereof
be contrary to its righteousness, I ,viII then ackno\v-
ledge this to be an argulnent against us, strong enough
to oyerthro\v the ,vhole cause, and make all things
else that can be said for it totally ineffectual for its
support. '
... 'l'illotson (Archbishop of Canterbury), SerJJ10JlS, vol.
111. p. 485. ' All our reasonings about revelation are

268 Tendencies of Relig'ious Thought in England,
necessarily gatllered by our natural notions about
religion, and therefore he ,vho sincerely desires to do
the will of God is not apt to be imposed on by vain
pretences of divine revelation; but if any doctrine be
proposed to him ,vhiclI is pretended to come from God,
lIe 111easures it by those sure and steady notions which
lle has of the divine nature and perfections; he ,vill
consider the nature and tendency of it, or ,vhether it
be a doctrine according to godliness, such as is agree..
able to the divine nature and perfections, and tends to
make us like unto God; if it be not, though an angel
should bring it, he ,vould not receive it.'
Rogers (J ohn, D.D.), SerJJ10JlS at Bo.lJle' 8 Lecture,
17 2 7, p. 59. 'Our religion desires no other favour
than a sober and dispassionate examinatioll. It sub..
D1its its grounds and reasons to an unprejudiced trial,
and hopes to approve itself to the conviction of any
equitable enquirer.'
Butler, (J os., Bp. ofDurham),AJlalogy, &,c.,pt. 2, ch. 1.
, Indeed, if in revelation there be found any passages,
the seeming meaning of ,,,,hicll is contrary to natural
religion, we n1ay most certainly conclude such 8eeming
meaning not to be the real one.' Ibid., ch. 8: 'I
have argued upon the principles of the fatalists, ,vhich
I do not believe; and have olllitted a thing of the ut-
most importance \vhich I do believe: tIle nloral fitness
and unfitness of actions, prior to all ,viII ,vhatever,
which I apprehend as certainly to determine the divine
conduct, as speculative truth and falsehood necessarily
determine the divine judgment.'
To the same effect the leading preacller among'
the Di
senters, J alnes Foster, Truth and Excel-
lellcy of the Christ-iall Revelation, 1731. 'The fa-
culty of reason ,yhich God hatI1 in1planted in nIan-
kind, ho\vever it n1ay have been abused and neg-
lected in tin1es past, ,vill, ,vhellever they begin to
exercise it aright, enable then1 to judge of all these
things. As by means of this they ,vere capable of

1688- 1 75 0 .

209

discovering at first the being and perfections of God,
and that he governs the \vorld \vith absolute wisdom,
equity, and goodness, and \vhat those duties are \vhich
they o\ve to hin1 and to one another, they n1ust be as
capable, if they \vill divest themselves of prejudice, and
reason ilnpartially, of rectifying any mistakes they n1ay
have fallen into about these important points. It
matters not \vhether they have hitherto thought right
or \vrong, nor indeed \vhether they have thought at
all; let them but begin to consider seriously and
examine carefully and Í1npartially, and they n1ust be
able to find out all those truths \vhich as reasonable
creatures they are capable of kno\ving, and \vhich affect
their duty and happiness.'
Finally, 'Varburton, displaying at once his disdain
and his ignorance of catholic theology, affirn1s on his
o\vn authority, lForks iii. p. 620, that 'the image of God
in \vhich man was at first created, lay in the faculty of
reason only.'
But it is needless to multiply quotations. The re..
ceived theology of the day taught on this point the
doctrine of Locke, as clearly stated by himself. (Essay,
B. iv. ch. 19.
4.) 'Reason is natural revelation,
whereby the eternal Father of light and fountain of
all knowledge c0111municates to lllankind that portion
of truth \vhich he has laid \vithin the reach of their
natural faculties; revelation is natural reason enlarged
by a ne\v set of discoveries cOlnmunicated by God im-
Inediately, ,vhich reason vouches the truth of, by the
testimony and proofs it gives, that they COlne from
God. So that he that takes a\vay reason to make ,yay
for revelation, puts out the light of both, and does
n1uch-,vhat the san1e as if he ,vauld persuade a man to
put out his eyes the better to receive the remote light
of an invisible star by a telescope.'
According to this assun1ption, a n1an's religious be-
lief is a result \vhich issues at the end of an intellec-
tual process. In arranging the steps of this process

270 Tendencies of Religious Thought in England,
they conceived natural religion to form the first stage
of the journey. That stage theologians of all shades
and parties travelled in company. It ,vas only when
they had reached the end of it that the Deists and the
Christian apologists part,ed. The fornler found that
the light of reason \vhich had guided them so far indi-
cated no road beyond. The Christian writers declared
that the saIne natural po\vers enabled them to reco-
gnise the t.ruth of revealed religion. The sufficiency of
natural religion thus becalne the turning point of the
dispute. 1. 1 he natural la,v of right and duty, argued
the Deists, is so absolutely perfect that God could not
add anything to jt. It is commensurate \vith all the
rea] relations in ,vhich nlan stands. To suppose that
God has created artificial relations, and laid upon lnall
positive precepts, is to take a\vay the very notion of
nlorality. The n10ral law is nothing but, the condi-
tions of our actual being, apparent alike to those of
the meanest and of the highest capacity. It is in-
consistent ,vith this to suppose that God has gone
on to enact arbitrary statutes, and to declare them to
n1an in an obscure and uncertain light. This "
as
the ground t,aken by the great champion of Deism-
Tindal, and expressed in the title of the treatise
\vhicll he published in 1732, when up,vards of seventy,
Cfhristianity a8 old a8 the Creation
. 01., the Gospel a
Republication of the Rel
r;ion of l'lat'llre. This ,vas tlle
point ,vhich the Christian defenders laboured most, to
construct the bridge ,vhich should unite the revealed
to the natural. They never denlur to making the N a-
tural the basis on ,vhich the Christian rests, to consi-
dering the natural kno,yledge of God as the starting
point both of the individual nlind and of the human
race. 1. 1 his assumption is necessary to their scheme,
in \vhich revelation is an argument addressed to the
reason. Christia.nity is a résu?Jlé of the kno\vledge
of God already attained by reason, and a disclosure of
further truths. 'fhese further truths could not have

1688- 1 75 0 .

271

been thought out by reason; but ,vhen divinely corn-
n1unicated, they approve thelllselves to the same reason
\vhich has already put us in possession of so much.
The ne\v truths are not of another order of ideas, for
, Christianity is a particular schen1e under the general
plan of Providence,' (Allalogy, pt. 2, ch. 4,) and the
",
hole schen1e is of a piece and uniform. ' If the dis-
pensation be indeed from God, all the parts of it ,viti
be seen to be the correspondent n1en1bers of one entire
\vhole, \vhich orderly disposition of things essential to
a religious system \viH assure us of the true theory of
the Christian faith.' ('Varburton, Divine Legatioll, 9
c.,
B. ix. Introd. lITorI's, vol. iii. p. 600.) 'Ho\v these
relations are made kno\vn, \vhether by reason or re-
velation, ulakes no alteration in the case, because the
duties arise out of the relations themselves, not out
of the n1anner in \vhich ,ve are inforlued of then1.
(.LIllalog!!, pt. 2, ch. I.) 'Those very articles of be-
Eef and duties of obedience, which \vere forrnerly na-
tural \vith respect to their manner of promulgation,
are no\v in the declaration of then1 also supernatural.'
(Ferguson, Rea8011 in Religion, 16 75, p. 29.) The re-
lations to the Redeemer and the Sanctifier are not
artificial, but as real as those to the l\faker and Pre-
server, and the obligations arising out of the one set
of relations as natural as those arising out of the
other.
The deference paid to natural religion is further
seen in the attempts to establish a priori the JleCe88it!/
of a revelation. To make this out it \vas requisite
to sho\v that the kno\vledge ,vith ,vhich reason could
supply us ,vas inadequate to be the guide of life, yet
reason nìust not be too uìuch depressed, inasn1uch as
it ,vas needed for the proof of Christianity. On the
one hand, the moral state of the heathen \vorld prior
to the preaching of Christianity, and of Pagan and
savage tribes in Africa and An1erica no\v, the super-
stitions of the 11l0St ci \Tilized nations of anti
uity, the

272 1èndencies of Religious Thought in England,
intellectual follies of the '\visest philosophers, are ex-
hibited in great detail. 'l'he usual argunlents of scep-
ticislll on the conscious "
eakness of reason are brought
forward, but not pushed very far. Reason is to be
humiliated so far as that supernatural light shall be
seen to be necessary, but it l1lust retain its competence
to judge of the evidence of this supernatural nlessage.
Natural religion is insufficient as a light, and a motive
to sho,v us our ,yay and to make us \valk in it; it is
sufficient as a light, and a motive to lead us to reve-
lation, and to induce us to embrace it. Ho,v nluch
of religious trut11 was contained in natural knovvledge,
or how Inuc11,vas due to supernatural COlTIlllUnication,
was very variously estinlated. Locke, e
pecially, had
,varned against our liability to attribute to reason
much of moral truth that had in fact been derived
from revelation. But the uncertainty of the delllar-
cation between the two is only additional proof of the
identity of the scheme ,vhich they disclose bet,veen
then1. The ,vllole of God's goyernment and dealings
with man form one ,vide-spread and consistent schelne,
of \vhich natural reason apprehends a part, and of
which Christianity "vas the 111anifestation of a further
part. Consistently herewith they treated natural re-
ligion, not as an historical dispensation, but as an ab-
stract deillonstration. There never ,vas a time when
111ankind had realized or established an actual systenl
of natural religion, but it lies al,vays potentially in
his reason. It held the same place as the social con-
tract in political history. The' original contract' had
never had historical existence, but it \vas a hypothesis
necessary to explain the existing fact of society. No
society had, in fact, arisen on that basis, yet it is the
theoretical basis on ,vhich all society can be sho\vn to
rest. So there was no time or country ,vhere the reli-
gion of nature had been fully kno,vn, yet the natural
kno\vledge of God is the only foundation in the human
mind on ,vhich can be built a rational Christianity.

1688- 1 75 0 .

273

Though not an original condition of any part of
nlankind, it is an ever-originating condition of every
hUJ11an mind, as soon as it begins to reason on the
facts of religion, rendering all the moral phenomena
ayailable for the construction of a scientific theory of
religion.
In accordance with this view they interpreted the pas-
sages in St. Paul \vhich speak of the religion of the hea-
then; e.g., Rom. ii. 14. Since the time of Augustine (De
Spiro et Lit.
27) the orthodox interpretation had
applied this verse, either to the Gentile converts, or to
the favoured fe\v among the heathen \vho had extra-
ordinary divine assistance. The Protestant expositors,
to whom the words 'do by nature the things contained
in the la,v,' could never bear their literal force, sedu-
lously preserved the Augustinian explanation. Even
the Pelagian Jeremy Taylor is obliged to gloss the
phrase 'by nature,' thus: 'By fears and secret
opinions \vhich the Spirit of God who is never wanting
to nlen in things necessary \vas pleased to put into the
hearts of nlen.' (Duct. IJubit. B. ii. ch. 1,'
3.) The
l 1 ationalists, however, find the expression' by nature' in
its literal sense exactly conformable to their o\vn vie\vs,
('Vilkins, 0/ }tat. ReI. ii. c. 9) and haye no difficulty
even in supposing the acceptableness of these works,
and the salvability of those ,vho do thenl. Burnet on
Art. xviii., in his usual confused style of eclecticism,
suggests both opinions ,vithout seeming to see that
they are incompatible relics of divergent schools of
doctrine.
Consequent ,vith such a theory of religion was their
notion of its practical bearings. Christianity ,vas a
republication of the moral la,v-a republication ren-
dered necessary by the helpless state of moral de base-
nlent in to \v hich the \vorld \vas come by the practice
of vice. The experience of ages had proved that,
though our duty might be discoverable by the light of
nature, yet virtue was not able to maintain itself in
T

274 Tendencies of Religious Thought in England,
the world \vithout additional sanctions. The disin-
terestedness of virtue \yas here a point much debated.
The Deists, in general, argued from the notion of
morality, that so Îar as any private regard to my o\vn
interest, \vhether present or future, influenced my
conduct, so far Iny actions had no IlloTal worth. Fron1
this they dre-\v the inference that the re\vards and
punishnlents of Christianity-tllese additional sanc-
tions-could not be a divine orc1inance, inasmuch as
they \vere subversive of morality. r
rhe orthodox
\vriters had to maintain the tlleory of rewards and
punishments in such a \yay as not to be inconsistent
,vith the theory of the disinterestedness of virtue
,vhich they had Inade part of their theology. Even
here no precise line can
e dra \vn bet\veen the Deistical
and the Christian moralists. For \ve find Shaftesbury
placing in a very clear light the mode in \vhich religious
sanctions do, in fact, as society is constituted, support
a
d strengthen virtue in the \vorld, thougll he does
not deny that the principle of virtue in the individual
may suffer from the selfish passion being appealed to
by the hope of reward or the fear of punishment.
(Charractwristick8, vol. ii. p. 66.) But \vith \vhatever
variation in individual disputants, the tone of the dis-
cussions is unnlistakeable. vVhen Collins was asked,
"Vhy he ,vas careful to make his servants go to
Church?' he is said to have ans\vered, 'I do it that
they may neither rob nor lllurder me.' This is but
an exaggerated form of the practical religion of the
age. Tillotson's Sern10n (IITorks, vol. iii. p. 43) , On
the Advantages of Religion to Societz.es,' is like CoIlins'
reply at fuller length. The Deists and their opponents
alike assume that the purpose of the supernatural
interference of the Deity in revelation n1ust have been
to secure the good behaviour of man in this world;
that the future life and our kno\vledge of it may be a
111eanS to this great end; that the next world, if it
exist at all, bears that relation to the present. 1Ve
are chiefly familiar \vith these vie\vs fronl their having

1688- 1 75 0 .

275

.been long the butt of the Evangelical pulpit, a chief
topic in 'v hich ,vas to decry the mere 'legal' preaching
of a preceding age. To abstain from vice, to cultivate
virtue, to fill our station in life 'vith propriety, to
bear the ills of life \vith resignation, and to use its
pleasures nloderately-these things are indeed not
little; perhaps no one can name in his circle of friends
a nlan ,vhonl he thinks equal to these demands. Yet
the experience of the last age has sho,vn us unlnistake-
ably that ,vhere this is our best ideal of life, ,vhether,
,vith the Deists, we establish the obligation of morality
on 'independent' grounds; or, vtith the orthodox, add
the religious sanction-in
fr. l\Iill's r
ther startling
mode ofputtil1g it (lJissertatio/ls, vol. ii. p. 436), 'Because
God is stronger than ,ve, and able to clanlll us if ,ye
don't' -it argues a sleek and sordid epicurisnl, in ,vhich
religion and a good conscience have their place an10ng
the means hy which life is to be lllade cOlnfortable.
To accuse the divines of this age of a leaning to
Arminianism is quite beside the mark. rThey did not
intend to be other than orthodox. They did not
take the Arnlinian side rather than the Calvinistic in
the old conflict or concordat bet,veen Faith and ,V orks,
between Justification and Sanctification. They had
dropt the terminology, and \vith it the mode of think-
ing, which the terms implied. They had adopted the
language and ideas of the moralists. They spoke not
of sin, but of vice, and of virtue, not of ,yorks. In
the old Protestant theology actions had only a certain
exterior relation to the justified Ulan; 'gute fromme
Werke n1achen ninlmernlehr einen guten fronllnen

Iann, sOl1dern ein guter frommer l\Iann macht gut

'Verke.' (Luther.) N ow, our conduct ""as thought of,
not as a product or effiu..x of our character, but as
regulated by our understanding; by a perception of
relations, or a calculation of consequences. This
intellectual perception of regulative truth is religious
Faith. Faith is no longer the devout condition of the
T ;2,

276 Tendencies of Religious Thought in England,
entire inner man. Its dynamic nature, and interior
working, are not denied, hut they are unknown; and
religion is made to regulate life from without, through
the logical proof of the being and attributes of God,
upon ,vhich an obligation to obey hinl can be raised.
The preachers of any period are not to be censured
for adapting their style of address and mode of argu-
ing to their hearers. They are as necessarily bound
to the preconceived notions, as to the language, of
those "Thorn they have to exhort. The pulpit does
not Inould the fornls into \vhich religious thought in
any age runs, it simply acconlnlodates itself to those
that exist. For this very reason, because they nlust
follo\v and cannot lead, sernlons are the surest index
of the prevailing religious feeling of their age. vVhen
we are reminded of the po,verful influence of the
pulpit at tIle Refornlation, in the tilne of the Long
Parliament, or at the Methodist revival, it must also
be remelubered that these preachers addressed a dif..
ferent class of society from that for which our classical
pulJ!it oratory was \vritten. If it could be said that
'Sherlock, Hare, and Gibson preach in vain,' it ,vas
because the populace were gone to hear mad Ilenle.r
on his tub. To charge Tillotson or Foster ,vith not
moying the masses ,vhich Whitefield llloved, is to
charge thenl ,vitI1 not having preached to another
congregation than that to ,vhich t,hey had to preach.
N or did they preach to empty pe,vs, though their
carefully-written 'discourses' could never produce
effects such as are recorded of Burnet's extempore
addresses, when he ' ,vas often interrupted by the deep
llum of his audience, and when, after preaching out
the hour-glass, he held it up in his hand, the congre-
gation clamorously encouraged him to go on till the
sand had run off once more.' (JIacaulay, vol. ii. p. 177.)
The dramatic oratory of 'Vhitefield could not have
sustained its power over the same auditors; 11e had a
fre
h congregatioll every Sunday. And in the judg-

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277

ment of one quite disposed to do justice to 'Vhitefield
there is nothing in his sernlons such as are printed.
Johnson (ap. B08well) speaking of the comparisons
dra\vn between the preaching in the Church and that
of the
fethudists to the disadvantage of the former,
says, 'I never treated Whitefield's ministry with con-
tempt; I believe he did good. But when fanliliarity
and noise claim the praise due to kno\vledge, art, and
elegance, \ve must beat do\vn such pretensions.' It
is, ho,vever, the substance, and not the manner, of the
classical sermons of the eighteenth century which is
meant, when they are complained of as cold and barren.
From this accusation they cannot be vindicated. But
let it be rightly understood that it is a charge not
against the preachers but against the religious ideas
of the period. In the pulpit, the speaker has no choice
but to take his audience as he finds them. He can
but dra\v them on to the conclusions already involved
in their premises. He cannot supply them with a
new set of principles, and alter their fixed forms of
thought. The ideas out of which the Protestant or
I the Puritan movenlent proceeded \vere generated else-
\vhere than in the pulpit.
The Rationalist preachers of the eighteenth century
I are usually contrasted with the Evangelical pulpit
which displaced them. J\fr. Neale has compared them
disadvantageously with the mediæval preachers in re-
I spect of Scripture knowledge. He selects a sermon
of the eighteenth and one of the twelfth century; the
one by the well-known Evangelical preacher John
Newton, Rector of St. l\Iary VV 00111 oth; the other by
Guarric, Abbot of Igniac. 'In Ne\vton's sermon
\ve find nine references to the Gospels, t,vo to the
Epistles, nine to the Prophets, one to the Psalms, and
none to any other part of Scripture. In the sermon
of Guarric we find seven references to the Gospels, one
to the Epistles, twenty..two to the Psalms, nine to the
Prophets, and eighteen to other parts of Scripture.

278 Tendencies of Religious Thought in England,
Thus the total number of quotations made by the
Evangelical preacher is t\ven ty -one, by Guarric fifty-
seven, and this in sermons of about equal length.'
(JIediæval Preaching, Introd. xxvi.) 1\1:1'. Neale has,
perhaps, not been fortunate in his selection of a speci-
n1en serHIon. For having the curiosity to apply this
childish te
t to a sernlon of John Blair, taken at
l\tndolll out of his four volunles, I found the number
of texts quoted thirty-seven. But, passing this by,
111'. Neale misses his inference. He means to sho,v
110'Y 11luch more Scripture kno\vledge was possessed
by the preachers of the 'dark ages.' This is very
likely, if faluiliarity,vith the mere ,vords of the Vul..
gate version be Scripture kno,vledge. But it is not
proved by the abstinence of the eighteenth century
preacher from the use of Biblical phraseology. The
fact, so far as it is one, only shows that our divines
understood Scripture differently, some ,viTI say better,
than the Middle Age ecclesiastic. The lat.ter had, in
the nlystical theology of the Christian Church, a rich
store of religious sentiment, ,vhich it ,vas an exercise
of their ingenuity to find in the poetical books of the
He brew canon. Great part of this fanciful allegorizing
is lost, apart from the Vulgate translation. But of
this the more learned of them ,vere quite a,vare, and
on their theory of Scripture interpretation, according
to ,vhich the Churcll ,vas its guaranteed expositor, the
verba] meanings of the Latin version were equally the
inspired sense of the sacred record. It was other\vise
,vith the English divine of the eighteenth century.
According to the then received vie\v of Scripture, its
meaning ,vas not assigned by the Church, but its lan-
guage ,vas interpreted by criticism-i.e., by reason.

rhe aids of history, the ordinary rules of granlnHLr
and logic, ,vere applied to find out ,vhat the sacred
'\vriters actually said. That ,vas the meaning of
Scripture, the lllessage supernaturally conlffiunicated.
Where each text of Scripture has but one sense, that

1688- 1 75 0 .

279

sense in ,vhich the ,vriter penned it, it can only be
cited in that sense ,vithout doing it violence. This
,vas the turn by ,vhich Selden so discolllfited the
Puritan divines, \\
ho, like the Catholic mystics, made
Scripture words the vehicle of their o,vn feelings.
, Perhaps in your little pocket Bibles ,vith gilt leaves
the translation Inay be thus, but the Greek or Hebre,v
signifies other,vise.' CvVhitelocke, Johnson's Life of
SeIdell, p. 303.) If the preacher in the eighteenth
century had allo,ved hinlself to nlake these allusions,
the taste of his audience ,vould have rejected them.
He ,vould have weakened his argument instead of
giving it effect.
No quality of these 'Discourses' strikes us more
no\v than the good sense which pervades them. They
are the complete reaction against the Puritan sernlon
of the 17th century. 'Ve have nothing far-fetched,
fanciful, allegoric. The practice of our duty is recom-
mended to us on the most undeniable grounds of pru-
dence. Barro\v had indulged in anlbitious periods,
and South had been jocular. Neither of these faults
can be alleged against the model sernlon of the Hano-
verian period. No topic is produced ,vhich does not
cOlllpel our assent as soon as it is understood, and none
is there 'v hich is not understood as soon as uttered.
It is one man of the ,vorld
peaklng to another. Col-
lins said of St. Paul, 'that he had a great respect for
hinl as both a nlan of sense and a gentleman.' He
nlight have said the saine of the best pulpit divines of
his o,vn tiIne. They bear the closest resemblance to
each other, because they all use the language of fashion-
able society, and say exactly the proper thing. 'A per-
SOll,' says 'Vaterland, 'nlust have some kno,vledge of
men, besides that of books, to succeed ,veIl here; and
nlust have a kind of practical sagacity ,vhich nothing
but the grace of God joined ,vith recollection and ,yise
ob
ervation can bring, to be able to represent truths to
the life, or to any considerable degree of advantage.'

280 Tendencies of Relz[;'lolts Thought in England,
This is from his recommendatory preface prefixed to
an edition of B]air's Sermons (1739); not the Presby-
terian Dr. Hugh Blair, but John Blair, the founder
and first President of a 1\iissionary College in Virginia,
,vhose 'Sermons on the Beatitudes' were among the
lnost approved 1110dels of tIle day, and recommended
by the bishops to their candidates for orders. Dr.
Hugh Blair's Serlnons, ,vhich Johnson thought' ex-
ce]lently written, both as to doctrine and language,'
(ap. B08well, p. 528) are in a different taste-that of
the latter half of the century, when solid and sensib]e
reasoning was superseded by polished periods and
flo,very rhetoric. 'Polished as nlarble,' says Hugh
J. Rose, 'but also as lifeless and as cold.' The ser-
mons ,vhich 'Vaterland recommends to young students
of divinity comprise Tillotson, Sharp, CalanlY, Sprat,
Blackhall, Hoadly, South; Claggett, and Atterbury.
Of these, 'Sharp's, Calam y' s, and Blackhall's are the
best models for an easy, natural, and fan1iliar ,vay of
,vriting. Sprat is fine, florid and elaborate in his st:rle,
artful in his method, and not so open as the former,
but harder to be imitated. Hoadly is very exact and
judicious, and both his sense and style just, close, and
clear. The others are very sound, clear ,vriters, only
Scot is too s,velling and pompous, and South is son1e-
thing too full of ,vit and satire, and does not al \vays
observe a decorum in his style.' He advises the stu-
dent to begin his divinity course ,vith reading sermons,
because 'they are the easiest, plainest, and most enter-
taining of any books of divinity; and might be digested
into a better body of divinity than any that is yet
extant.' (Advice to a Young Student, 1730).
N ot only the pulpit, but the ,vhole theological lite-
rature of the age, takes the same tone of appeal. Books
are no longer addressed by the cloistered academic to
a learnedly educated class, they are ,vritten by popular
divines-' men of leisure,' Butler calls them-for the
use of fashionable society. There is an epoch in the

1688- 1 75 0 .

281

history of letters ,vhen readers and ,vriters change
places; ,vhen it ceases to be the reader's business to
come to the ,,"riter to be instructed, and the writer
begins to endeavour to engage the attention of the
reader. The same necessity \vas no\v laid upon the
religious ,vriter. He appeared at the bar of criticism,
and must gain the wits, and the to,vn. At the debate
bet\veen the Deists and the Christian apologists the
public ,vas ulllpire. The time ,vas past ,,,hen Baxter
'talked about another ,,[orld like one that had been
there, and ,vas con1e as a sort of express from thence
to 11lake a report concerning it.' (Calamy, Life, i. 220).
As the preacher no,v no longer spake ,vith the autho-
rityof a heavenly mission, but laid the state of the
argument before his hearers, so philosophy was no
longer a self centered speculation, an oracle of ,visdom.
The divine ,vent, out into the streets, ,vith his demon-
stration of the being and attributes of God printed on
a broadside; he solicits your assent in ' the ne,v court.
jargon.' "\Vhen Collins visited Lord Barrington at
Tofts, 'as they 'v ere all n1en of letters, and had a taste
for Scripture criticisn1, it is said to ha ve been their
custom, after dinner, to have a Greek Testalllent laid
on the table.' (Biof/. Brit. Art. 'Barrington.') These
discussions ,vere not necessarily unprofitable. Lord
Bolingbroke ',vas seldom in the company of the
Countess of Huntingdon ,vithout discussing some
topic beneficial to his eternal interests, and he al\vays
paid the utmost respect and deference to her lady-
ship's opinion.' (JlelJloirs of Countess of HUllt., i. 180.)
Bishop Butler gives his clergy hints ho,v to conduct
themselves when' sceptical and profane lllen bring up
the subject (religion) at meetings of entertainment,
and such as are of the freer sort; innocent ones, I
Inean, other,vise I should not suppose you ,vould be
present at them.' (Durhalll Charge, 1751). Tindal's
reconversion from Ron1anism is said to have been
brought about by the arguments he heard in the

282 Tendencies of Religious Thought in Ellgland,
coffee-houses. This anecdote, given in Curll's catch-
penny 'Life,' rests, not on that bookseller's authority,
,vhicll is ,vorthless, but on that of the 111.edical nUln
,vho attended him in his last illness. It was the satne
with the controversy on the Trinity, of ,vhich'Vater-
land says, in 1723, that it ,vas 'spread abroad among
all ranks and degrees of men, and tIle Athanasian
creed become the subject of comn10n and ordinary con-
versation.' (Critical J-li
t. of the Alh.an. Creed,lntrod.)
The Universities \yere invaded by the spirit of the age,
and instead of taking students tl1rough a laborious
course of philosophy, natural and n10ral, turned out
acconlplished gentlemen upon 'the classics' and a
scantling of logic. Berkeley's ironical portrait of the
modish philosopher is of date 173'2. ' Lysicles sllliled,
and said he believed Euphranor had figured to hinlself
philosophers in square caps and long go\Yns, but thanks
to these happy tÎ1nes, the reign of pedantry ,vas over.
Our philosophers are of a yery different kind from those
a\yk\vard students "Tll0 think to COlne at kl1o,,;ledge
by poring on dead languages and old authors, or by
sequestering theulselves fronl the cares of the \vorid
to meditate in solitude and retirement. 1'\hey are tIle
best bred n1en of the age, n)en \vho kno\v the ,vorld,
nlen of pleasure, men of fashion, and fine gentlemen.
EUPH.: I have sonle snlall notion of the people you
mention, but sllould never have taken thenl for philo-
sophers. CR!.: Nor "Tould anyone else till of late.
The ,vorld was long under a n1istake about the way to
kno\vlec1ge, thinking it lay through a tedious course
of acadenlical education and study. But an10ng the
discoveries of the present age, one of the principal is
the finding out that such a nlethod doth rather retard
and obstruct, than pronlote kno\yledge. Lys.: I ,viII
undertake, a lad of fourteen, bred in the n10dern ,yay,
shall make a better figure, and be more considered in
any dra,,
ing-room, or assen1 bly of polite people, than
one at four-and-t,venty, \vho hath lain by a long tin1e

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283

at school and college. He shall say better things, in
a better In anneI', and be nlore liked by good judges.
Et'PH.: ,Vhere doth he pick up this inlprovement?
CRr.: "There our grave ancestors ,yould never have
looked for it, in a dra,ving-roolTI, a coffee-house, a
chocolate-Iate-house, at the tayern, or groom-porter's.
In these and the like fashionable places of resort, it is
the custonl for polite persons to speak freely on all sub-
jects, religious, Inoral, or political. So that a young
gentlenlan "rho frequents theln is in the ,yay of hear-
ing lllany instructive lectures, seasoned ,vith ,yit and
raillery, and uttered ,vith spirit. Three or four sen-
tences froln a nlan of quality, spoken ,vith a good air,
nULke lllore impression, and convey more kno,v ledge,
than a dozen dissertations in a dry acadenlical ,vay.
You nlay no'v comnlonly see a young lady,
or a petit rJlaltre non-plus a divine or an old-fashion ed_
gentleman, who hath read many a Greek and Latin
author, and spent nluch tinle in hard nlethodical study.'
(.Jlciphroll, Dial. i.
II.)
.L-\nlong a host of nlischiefs thus arising, one positiye
good 11lay be signalized. If there must be debate,
there ought to be fair play; and of this, publicity is
the best guarantee. To 111ake the public arbiter in an
abstract question of llletaphysics is doubtless absurd,
yet it is at least a safeguard against extravagance and
Inetaphysical lunacy. The verdict of public opinion
on such topics is ,vorthless, but it checks the inevitable
tendency of closet speculation to becoll1e visionary.
There is but one sort of scepticism that is genuine,
and deadly in proportion as it is real; that, nanlely,
,vhieh is forced upon the mind by its experience of
the hollo,vness of nlankind; for' men nlay be read, as
"
ell as books, too nluch.' That other logical scepti-
CiSlll ,,-hich is hatched by over-thinking can be cured
by an easy relnedy; ceasing to think.
The objections urged against rev-elation in the
course of the Dei;:,tical controversy ,vere no chill1æras

284 Tendencies of Religious Thought in England,
of a sickly brain, but solid charges; the points brought
into public discussion ,,"'ere the points at which the
revealed system itself impinges on hUlnan reason.
No time can lessen ,vhatever force there may be in
the objection against a miracle; it is felt as strongly
in one century as in another. The debate ,vas not
frivolous; the objections ,yere worth ans,vering, be-
cause they ,vere not pitched metaphysically lligh. To
a platonizing divine they look trivial; picked up in
the street. So Origen naturally thought' that a faith
,vhich could be shaken by suc}} objections as those of
Celsus was not ,vorth much.' (Gont. Gels., Pref.
4.)
Just such ,vere the objections of the Deists; such as
come spontaneously into the tlloughts of practical men,
,vho never think systematically, but ,vho are not to be
imposed upon by fancies. Persons sneer at the 'shal-
Io,v Deism' of the last century; and it is customary
to reply that the antagonist orthodoxy was at least as
shallow. 'I
he truth is, the 'shallo,vness' imputed be-
longs to the mental sphere into '\vhich the debate was
for the tinle transported. The philosophy of the age
,vas not aboye its mission. 'Philosophy,' thought
Thomas Reid, in 1764, 'has no other root but the
principles of COlnnlon sense; it gro,vs out of them, it
dra,vs its nourishment from thenl; severed from this
root, its honours ,vither, its sap is dried up, it dies
and rots.' (Inqzu)r!J, 9/Wc., Intr.
4.) "\Ve, in the pre-
sent generation, have seen the great speculative nlove-
nlent in Germany die out fron1 this very cause, because
it becalne divorced from the facts on ,vhich it specu-
lated. Shut up in the Universities, it turned inwards
on itself, and preyed on its own vitals. It has only
been neglected by the world, because it first neglected
the great facts in which the world has, and feels, an
interest.
If ever there ,vas a time when abstract speculation
,vas brought down from inaccessible heights and com-
pelled to be intelligible, it was the period from the

1688- 1 75 0 .

285

Revolution to the middle of the last century. Closet
speculation had been discredited; the cob,vebs of
scholasticism ,vere exploded; the age of feverish doubt
and egotistical introspection had not arrived. In that
age the English higher education acquired its practical
aim; an ainl in ,vhich the developnlent of the under-
standing, and the acquisition of kno,vledge are consi-
dered secondary 0 bj ects to the formation of a sound
secular judglllent, of the' scholar and the gentlenlan'
of the old race of schoolnlasters. Burke contrasting
his own times ,vith the preceding age' considered our
forefathers as deeper thinkers than ourselves, because
they set a higher value on good sense than on know-
ledge in various sciences, and their good sense ,vas
derived very often fronl as nlueh study and more
kno,vledge, thougll of another sort.' (RecollectioJl8 by
SaJJluellloger8, p. 81.)
'Vhen a dispute is joined, e.g. on the origin and
composition of the Gospels, it is, from the nature of
the case, confined to an inner circle of Biblical scholars.
The nlass of the public 111Ust wait outside, and receive
the result on their authority. The religious public
were very reluctant to resign the verse 1 John v. 7,
hut they did so at last on the just ground that after a
philological controversy conducted \vith open doors, it
had been decided to be spurious. No serious man
,vould consider a popular assembly a proper court to
decide on the doctrine of transubstantiation, or on the
Hegelian definition of God, though either is easily
eapable of being held up to the ridicule of the half-
educated fron1 the platform or the pulpit. It is other-
.wise \vith the greater part of the points raised in the
Deistical controversy. It is not the speculative reason
of the fe,v, but the natural conscience of the many,
that questions the extirpation of the Canaanites, or
the eternity of hell-torments. These are points of
divinity that are at once fundamental and popular.
Butler, though not approving 'of entering into an

286 Tendencies of Religious Thought ,in En!Jland,
argumentative defence of religion in COUlmon conver-
sation,' recollln1ends his clergy to do so fronl the pulpit
on the ground that, 'such as are capable of seeing the
force of objections, are ca.pable also of seeing the force
of the ans\vers \vhich are given to thenl.' (IJlI/rhoJJl
Charge.) If the philosophic intellect be dissatisfied \vith
the answers ,vhich the divines of that day gave to the
difficulties started, let it sho\v how, on the rationalist
hypot,hesis, these difficulties are renloveable for the
mass of tho
e ,vho feel them. The transcendental
reason provides an answer which possibly satisfies
itself; but to the con1mon reason the ans,ver is more
perplexing than the difficulty it ,vouId clear.
M. Villenlain has remarked in Pascal, 'that fore-
sight which revealed to llim so lllany objections un-
known to his generation, and which inspired hin1 with
the idea of fortifying and intrenching positions which
were not threatened.' The objections ,vhich Pascal is
engaged with are not only not those of his age, they
are not such as could ever become general in any' age.
They are those of tIle higher reason, and the replies
are from the same inspiration. Pascal's vie\v of hu-
nlan depravity seems to the ordinary man but the
despair and delirium of the self-torn1enting ascetic.
The cynical view of our fallen nature, however, is at
least a possible view. It is well that it should be ex-
plored, and it will always have its prophets, Calvin
or Rochefoucault. But to ordinary men an argu-
ment in favour of revelation, founded on suell an as-
sumption, \vill seem to be in contradiction to his daily
experience. Pascal's Pensée8 stand alone; a ,vork of
individual genius, not belonging to any age. The ce-
lebrity which the Analo!!!! of Bishop Butler has gained
is due to the opposite reason. It is no paradox to say
that the Inerit of the .Llnalo!Jylies in its ,vallt of origi-
nality. It came (1736) towards the end of the Deisti-
cal period. It is the result of twenty years' study-
the very t,venty years during which the Deistical no-

1688-1750.

287

tions formed the atmosphere ,vhich educated people
breathed. The objections it meets are not ne,v and
unseasoned 0 bj ections, but such as had ,vorn 'v ell, and
had borne the rub of controversy, because they ,vere
genuine. And it will be equally hard to find in the
J.4Jlalof/!/ any topic in reply, ,vhich had not been sug-
gested in the panlphlets and sernlon
,,; of the preceding
half century. Like Aristotle's physical and political
treatises, it is a ré8lt7}lé of the discussions of more than
one generation. Its adnlirable arrangement only is
all its o,vn. Its closely packed and carefully fitted
order speaks of many years' contrivance. Its sub-
stance are the thoughts of a ,vhole age, not barely
conlpiled, but each reconsidered and digested. Every
brick in the building has been rung before it has been
relaid, and replaced in its true relation to the complex
and various ,vhole. In nlore than one passage we see
that the construction of this fabric of evidence, "vhich
'consists in a long series of things, one preparatory
to and confirming another fronl the beginning of
the ,vorId to the present tinle,' (])ltrh a III C'harge)
,vas ,vhat occupied Butler's attention. 'Conlpass of
thought, even anlongst persons of the lo,vest rank,'
(Prej. to Ser'JJ10Jl8), is that form of the reflective faculty
to which he is fond of looking both for good and evil.
He never ,viII forget that 'justice nlust be done to
every part of a subject ,vhen ,ve are considering it.'
(Serulon iv.) Harl11ony, and la,v, and order, he will
suppose even "There he does not find. The tendency
of his reason "vas that 'v hi ell Bacon indicates; 'the
spirit of a nlan being of an equal and uniforln sub-
stance dòth usually suppose and feign in nature a
greater equality and uniformity than is in truth.'
(./ldvanceJuent 0/ Learning.) This is, probably, the
true explanation of the 'obscurity' ,vhich persons
sometinles complain of in Butler's style. The rea-
son or matter 11e is producing is palpable and plain
enough. But he is so solicitous to find its due place

288 Tendencies of Religious Thougltt in Ellgland,
in the then stage of the argument, so scrupulous to
give it its exact" ,veight and no more, so careful in ar-
ranging its situation relatively to the other meln bers
of the proof, that a reader who does not bear in mind
that 'the effect of the \vhole' is ,vhat the architect is
preparing, is apt to becolne embarrassed, and to think
that obscurity which is really logical precision. The
generality of men are better qualified for understand-
ing particulars one by one, than for taking a conlpre-
hensive vie,v of the V\T hole. The philosophical breadth
which we nliss in Butler's nlode of conceiying is conl-
pensated for by tl1Ïs judicial breadth in his mode of
arguing, ,vhich gives its place to each consideration,
but regards rather the cunlulative force of the whole.
l\iany ,vriters before ButJer had insisted on this cha-
racter of the Christian evidences. Dr. Jenkin, J\;Iar-
garet Professor at Canlbridge, whose Reasonablenes8 aNd
Ce'rtainty of the Christian Religion ,vas the 'Paley' of
divinity students then, says, 'there is an excellency
in every part of our religion separately considered, but
the strength and vigour of each part is in the relation
it has to the rest, and tIle several parts lllUst be taken
altogether, if ,ve ,vould have a true kno,vledge, and
make a just estimate of the whole. (ReasoJlableness, 9'c.
Pt. ii. Pref. ] 721.) But Butler does not merely take
the hint from others. It is so entirely the guiding
rule of his hand and pen that it would appear to have
been forced upon him by some peculiar experience of
11Ïs own. It ,vas in society, and not in his study, that
he had learned the ,veight of the Deistical argulllents.
At the Queen's philosophical parties, ,vhere these to-
pics \vere canvassed with earnestness and freedol1l, he
must have often felt the iUlpotence of reply in detail,
and seen, as he says, 'ho\v inlpossible it nlust be, in a
cursory conversation, to unite all this into one argu-
nlent, and represent it as it ought.' (.Du ' rhaln Charge.)
Hence his o\vn labour to ,york up his nlaterials into
a connected franle,vork, a methodized ellcyclopædia of
all tIle extant topics,

1688- 1 75 0 .

289

Not that he did not pay attention to the parts.
Butler's eininence over his contemporary apologists
is seen in nothing more than in that superior sagacity
,vhich rejects the use of any plea that is not entitled
to con
ideration singly. In the other evidential books
of the time ,ve find a miscellaneous cro\vd of sugges-
tions of very various value; never fanciful, but, often
trivial; und3niable, but ,veak as proof of the point
they are brought to prove. Butler seenlS as if he had
sifted these books, and retained all that ,vas solid in
them. If he built ,vith brick, and not ,vith marble,
it was because he was not thinking of reputation, but
of utility, and an inllllediate purpose. Mackintosh
,yished Butler had had the elegance and ornalnent of
Berkeley. They would have been sadly out of place.
There was not a spark of the littleness of literary
anlbition about hinl. ' There ,vas a certain naturalness
in Butler's nlind, which took hinl straight to the
questions on \vhich men differed around him. Generally
it is safer to prove what no one denies, and easier to
explain difficulties ,vhich no one has ever felt. A
quiet reputation is best obtained in the literary quæs-
tiunculæ of important subjects. But a simple and
straightforward man studies great topics because he
feels a ,vant of the kno\vledge which they contain.
He goes straight to the real doubts and fundanlental
. discrepancies, to those on ,vhich it is easy to excite
odiunl, and difficult to give satisfaction; he leaves to
others the alnusingskirlllishing and superficial literature
accessory to such studies. Thus there is nothing
light in Butler, all is grave, serious, and essential;
I nothing else would be characteristic ofhinl.' (Bao'ehot,
EstÙna les,
c., p. 18 9.) Though he has rifled ö thejr
books he makes no display of reading. In the Ll11alo!l!/
he never names the author he is ans\vering. In the
Serlllo1l8 he quotes, directly, only Hobbes, Shaftesbury,
'\V ollaston, Rochefoucauld, and Fenelon. Froin his
,vritings we should infer that his reading \vas not pro-
u

290 Tendencies of Reli!Jious Thou!Jht in E1Z!Jlanà,
miscuous, even had he not himself given us to under-
stand ho"T much opportunity he had of seeing the
idleness and \vaste of tilne occasioned by light reading.
(Ser'lllOnS, Pref.)
This popular appeal to the comInon reason of men,
which is one characteristic of the rationalist period,
,vas a first effort of English tlleology to find a new
basis for doctrine \vhich should replace those founda-
tions ,vhich had failed it. The Reforn1ation had
destroyed the authorit,y of the Church upon ,vhich
Revelation had so long rested. The attempt of the
Laudian divines to substitute the voice of the national
Church for that of the Church universal had n1et ,vith
only very partial and temporary success. 'Vhen the
Revolution of 1688 introduced the freedoln of the press
and a general toleration, even that artificial autllority
\vhich, by ignoring non-conformity, had produced an
appearance of unity, and erected a conventiona]
standard of trutll and falsehood, fell to the ground.
The old and venerated authority had been broken by
the Reformation. The new authority of the Anglican
establishment had existed in theory only, and never in
fact, and the Revolution had crushed the theory, ,vhich
,vas now confined to a small band of non-jurors. In
reaction against Anglican 'authority,' the Puritan
n1.0Velllent llad tended to rest faith and doctrine upon
the inward light ,vithin each man's breast. r
rhis
tendency of the new Puritanism, which ,ve n1ay call
Independency, ,vas a development of the old, purely
scriptural, Puritanism of Presbyterianism. But it
,vas its natural and necessary development. It was a
consequence of the controversy ,vith the establishnlent.
For both the Church and Dissent agreed in ackno,v-
ledging Scripture as their foundation, and the con-
troversy turned on the interpreter of Scripture.
Nor ,vas the doctrine of the inner light, \vhich
individualized the basis of faith, confined to the N on-
conformists. It was shared by a section of the Church,

J688- 1 75 0 .

291

of ,vhom Cud,vorth is the type, to ,vhom 'Scripture
faith is not a mere believing of historical things, and
upon artificial arguments or testimonies only, but a
certain higher and diviner po,ver in the soul that
peculiarly correspondeth ,vith the Deity.' (Intellectual
S!/8te1Jl, Pref.) The inner light, or ,vitness of the Spirit
in the sou] of the individual believer had, in its turn,
fallen into discredit through the extravagances to
,vhich it had given birth. It ,vas diso,vned alike by
Churchmen and N onconfornlists, ,vho agree in speaking
'\yith contenlptuous pity of the 'sectaries of the last
age.' The re-action against individual religion led to
this first attempt to base revealed truth on reason.
And for the purpose for ,vhich reason ,vas no,v ,vanted,
the higher, or philosophic, reason ,vas far less :fitted
than that universal understanding in ,vhicll all nlen
can clailn a share. The' inner light,' \vhich had nlade
each man the dictator of his o\vn creed, had exploded
in ecclesiastical anarchy. The appeal fronl the frantic
discord of the enthusiasts to reason nlust needs be, not
to an arbitrary or particular reason in each lllan, but
to a COnVUOJl sense, a natural discernment, a reason of
I universal obligation. As it ,vas to be universally
binding, it must be generally recognisable. It must
, be something not confined to the select few, a gift of
the self-styled elect, but a faculty belonging to all nlen
of sound nlind and average capacity. Truth must be
accessible to 'the bulk of nlankind.' It ,vas a time
,yhen the only refuge froIn a hopeless Inaze, or ,vild
chaos, seenled to be the rational consent of the sensible
and unprejudiced. 'Have the Lulk of mankind,'
I ,vrites Locke, 'no other guide but accident and blind
chance to conduct thenl to their happiness or misery?
Are the current opinions and licensed guides of every
country sufficient evidence and security to every luan
to venture his great concernments on ? Or, can those
, be the certain and infallible oracles and standards of
truth which teach one thing in Christendonl, and
u 2

292 TeJzdellcies of Religious Thought in England,
another in Turkey? Or shall a poor countryman be
eternally happy for having the chance to be born in
Italy? Or a day labourer be unavoidably lost because
he had the ill-luck to be born in England? Ho\v
ready son1e men may be to say some of these things, I
,viII not here exan1ine; but this I am sure, that lnen
must allo,v one or other of these to be true, or else
grant that God has furnished men ,vith faculties
sufficient to direct then1 in the ,yay they should take,
if they ,viII but seriously en1ploy them that ,yay,
,vhen their ordinary vocations allo,v them the leisure.'
(Essay, Book iv. ch. 19,
3.)
Such an attempt to secure a foundation in a ne,v
consensus ,viII obviously forfeit depth to gain in com-
prehensiveness. This phase of rationalislu-' Ration-
alismus vulgaris' -resigns the transcendental, that it
n1ay gain adherents. It ,vants, not the elect, but all
men. It cannot aflord to embarrass itself ,vith the
attempt to prove ,vhat all may not be required to
receive. Accordingly there can be no 111ysteries in Chris.
tianity. The ,vord PV(fT'hPLOV, as Archbishop Whately
points out (h8sa!l8, 2nd ser., 5th ed., p. 288), al,vays
means in the N e,v Testalnent not that ,vhicl1 is in-
con1prellensible, but that ,vhich was once a secret,
though no,v it is revealed it is no longer so. 'Vllately,
,vho else,vhere (Paley's Evidences, ne,v ed.) speaks so
contemptuously of the 'cast-off clothes' of the Deists,
is here but adopting the argun1ent of Toland in his
C'hTistianity not Al!jsteTiolts. (Cf. Balguy, ])iscourses,
p. 237.) There needs no special 'preparation of heart'
to receive the Gospel, the evidences of religion are
sufficient to convince every unprejudiced inquirer.
Unbelievers are blame,vorthy as deaf to an argulnent
,vhich is so plain that they cannot but understand it,
and so convincing that they cannot but be a,vare of
its force. Under such self-ilnposed conditions religious
proof seems to divest itself of all that is divine, and
out of an excess of accommodation to the recipient

J688- 1 75 0 .

293

faculty to cease to be a transforming thought. Ration-
alisln can object to the old sacramental system that it
degrades a spiritual influence into a physical effect.
But rationalism itself: in order to make the proof of
revelation universal, is obliged to resolve religion into
the moral governnlent of God by re\vards and punish..
ments, and especially the latter. It is this anthropo-
morphic conception of God as the 'Governor of the
universe,' ,vhich is presented to us in the theology of
the Hanoverian divines, a theology ,vhich excludes on
principle not only all that is poetical in life, but all
that is sublime in religious speculation. 'To degrade
religion to the position of a n1ere purveyor of motive
to 1110rality is not more dishonourable to the ethics
,vhich must ask, than to the religion ,vhich will render
such assistance.' (A. J. Vaughan, EssaY8, vol. I. p.
6 I . ) It is this character that nlakes the reading even
of the Analogy so depressing to the soul, as Tholuck
(VerllÛschte SchrifteJl, i. 193) says of it ',ve weary of
a long journey on foot, especially through deep sand.'
Human nature is not only humbled but crushed. It
is a common charge against the 18th century divines
that they exalt man too much, by insisting on the
dignity of hunlan nature, and its native capacities for
virtue. This ,vas the charge urged against the ortho-
dox by the evangelical pulpit. But only very super-
ficial and incompetent critics of doctrine can suppose
that man is exalted by being thro\vn upon his moral
faculties. The history of doctrine teaches a very
different lesson. Those periods ,vhen morals have
been represented as the proper study of man, and his
only business, have been periods of spiritual abasement
and poverty. The denial of scientific theology, the
keeping in the back-ground the transcendental objects
of faith, and the restriction of our faculties to the
regulation of our conduct, seem indeed to be placing
Ulan in the foreground of the picture, to make hunlan
nature the centre round ,vhich all things revolve. But

294 lèJldeJlcie8 of Religiou8 Thought in EJlgland,
they do so not by exalting the yisible, but by
materializing the invisible. ' If there be a sphere of
kno,vledge level to our capacities and of the utlnost
importance to us, '\\"'e ought surely to apply ourselves
,vith all diligence to this our proper business, and
esteem everything else nothing, nothing as to us, in
comparison of it. Our province is virtue
and religion, life and mannrrs; the science of in1proving
the tenlper and nlakillg the heart better. 'l'his is the
field assigned to us to cultivate; ho\v muc}l it has lain
neglected is indeed astonishing. He ,vho
should find out one rule to assist us in this ,york ,vould
deserve infinitely better of mankind than all the inl-
provers of other kno\vledge put together.' (SerJJlOn
xv.) This is the theo]ogy of Butler and his contem-
poraries; a utilitarian theology, like the Baconian phi-
losophy, cOlltelnning all enlployu1ent of lllental po,ver
that does not bring in fruit. ' Intellectui non plUJ11æ,
sed plunlbum addendunl et pondera,' (Bacon, j\T OV . Or.,
i. 104,) might be its device.
In the .Linalog!! it is the same. His term of conlpari-
son, the' constitution and course of nature,' is not \vhat
,ve should understand by that term; not ,vhat science
can disclose to us of the la \VS of the C08JJl08, but a llar-
ro,v obseryation of ,vhat men do in ordinary life. 'Ve
see what he Ineans by the' constitution of things,' by
his saying (SerJnon xv.) that' the ,vritings of 80101110n
are very n1uch taken up ,vith reflections upon human
nature and hunlan life; to ,vhich he hath added, in
Ecclesiastes, reflections upon the constitution of things.'
In Part i. ch. 3, of the
J.Jlalo!/!!, he cOlllpares the '1uoral
goverUll1ent of God \vith the natural-the distinction
is perhaps fron1 Balguy (lJirille Rectitude, p. 39), that
is to sa'y, one part of natural religion ,yith another;
for the distinction vanishes, except upon a very con-
ventional sense of the term 'moral.' Altogether ,ve
miss in these divines not only distinct philosophical
conceptions, but a scientific use of terms. Dr. \Vhe,vell

1688- 1 75 0 .

295

considers that Butler shunned 'the appearance of
technical tern1S for the elements of our moral consti-
tution on ,vhich he speculated,' and thinks that he
'was driven to indirect modes of expression.' (ltforal
Philosophy in Þ]Jlgland, p. 109.) The truth is that
Butler uses the language of his day upon the topics on
which he writes. The technical terms, and strict
logical forms, ,vhich had been adhered to by the
writers, small as well as great, of the 17th century,
had been disused as pedantic; banished first fron1
literature, and then from education. They did not
appear in style, because they did not form part of the
mental habit of the writers. Butler does not, as Dr.
'Vhewell supposes, think in one form, and ,vrite in
another, out of condescension to his readers. He
thinks in the same language in which he and those
around him speak.
Ir. Hort's ren1ark that' Butler's
writings are stoic to the core in the true and ancient
sense of the "Tord' (Ga1Jzbridge Essays, 18 5 6 , p. 337)
must be extended to their style. The English style
of philosophical ,vriting in the Hanoverian period is
to the English of the 1 7th century, as the Greek of
Epictetus, Antoninus, or Plutarch, is to that of Ari-
stotle. - And for the same reason. The English stoics
and their Greek predecessors ,vere practical Inen ,vho
moralized in a practical ,vay on the facts of common life,
and in the language of common life. Neither the rhe-
torical Schools of the En1pire, nor the Universities of
England, any longer taught the correct use of n1eta-
physical language. To Ï1nitate classical Latin ,vas
become the chief aim of the 'University man in his
I. public exercises, and precision of language becan1e
under that discipline very speedily a lost art.
Upon the ,vhole, the writings of that period are
serviceable to us chiefly as sho,ving ,vhat can and
what cannot be effected by common-sense thinking in
theology. It is of little consequence to inquire
whether or not the objections of the Deists and the

290 Tendencies oj Religious Thought in Ellgland,
Socinians ,vere rellloved by the ans\vers brought to
111eet thenl. Perhaps, on the ,vhole, ,ve might be
borne out in saying that the defence is at least as
good as the attack; and so, that even on the ground
of common reason, the Christian evidences 11lay be
arranged in such a ,yay as to balance the COlllnlon-
sense inlprobability of the supernatural-that 'there
are three chances to one for revelation, and only t\VO
against it.' (Tracts for the Tinles, No. 85.) Had not
circunlstances given. a ne,v direction to religious
interests, the Deistical controversy might have gone
on iudefinitely, and the' anlæbæan strain of objection
and reply, et cantare pares et respondere parati' - ha ve
been prolonged to this day without any other result.
But that result forces on the mind the suggestion that
either religious faith has no existence, or that it must
be to be reached by sonle other Toad than that of the
'trial of the \vitnesses.' It is a reductio ad absurdunl
of common-sense pllÌlosophy, of home-baked theology,
when ,ve find that the result of tIle ,vhole is that 'it
is safer to believe in a God, lest, if there should
happen to be one, he Inight send us to hell for deny..
ing his existence.' (l\Iaurice, Essays, p. 23 6 .) If a
religion be \vallted 'v hich shall debase instead of ele-
vating, this should be its creed. If the religious
history of the eighteenth century proves anything it
is this :-That good sense, the beðt good sense, "Then
it sets to \york ,vith the lllaterials of human nature and
Scripture to construct a religion, will find its ,yay to
an ethical code, irreproachable in its contents, and
based on a just estimate and ,vise observation of the
facts of life, ratified by Divine sanctions in the bhape
of hope and fear, of future re,vards and penalties of
o bec1ience and disobedience. This the eighteenth
century did and did ,veIl. I t has enforced the truths
of natural morality ,vith a solidity of argument and
variety of proof ,vhich they have not received since
the Stoical epoch, if then. But there its ability ended.

1688-] 750.

297

'Then it came to the supernatural part of Christianity
its embarrassment began. It ,vas forced to keep it
as mue h in the båckground as possible, or to bolster
it up by lalHe and inadequate reasonings. The philo-
sophy of C01111110n-sense had done its o,vn ,vork; it
atten1pted n10re only to sho,v, by its failure, that some
higher organon was needed for the establishment of
supernatural truth. The career of the evidential
school, its success and failure,-its success in vindi-
cating the etl
ical part of Christianity and the regula-
tive aspect of revealed truth, its failure in establishing
the supernatural and speculative part, have enriched
the history of doctrine ,vith a complete refutation of
that method as an instrument of theological investi-
gation.
This judgment, ho,vever, must not be left unbalanced
by a consideration on the other side. It ,vill hardly
be supposed that the drift of what has been said is
that COIl1n10n-Sense is out of place in religion, or in
any other 111atter. The defect of the eighteenth cen-
tury theology ,vas not in having too n1uch good sense,
but in having nothing besides. In the present day
I \vhen a godless orthodoxy threatens, as in the fifteenth
century, to extinguish religious thought altogether,
and nothing is allo,ved in the Church of England but
I the forl11ulæ of past thinkings, \vhich have long lost
all sense of any kind; it n1ay seeln out of season to
be bringing for,vard a n1isapplication of common-sense
, in a bygone age. 'l'here are tÎ1nes and circun1stances
,vhen religious ideas "rill be greatly benefited by being
sublnitted to the rough and ready tests by ,yhich busy
lnen try ,yhat COines in their ,vay; by being made to
stand their trial, and be freely canvassed, coran1 populo.
As poetry is not for the critics, so religion is not for
the theologians. 'Vhen it is stiffened into phrases,
and these phrases are declared to be objects of reverence
but not of intelligence, it is on the ,vay to beeome a
useless encumbrance, the rubbish of the past, blocking

298 Tendencies of Reb[;ioU8 Thought in England,
the road. Theology then retires into the position it
occupies in the Church of Rome at present, an unlnean..
ing frostwork of dogma, out of all relation to the actual
history of n1an. In that system, theological virtue
is an artificial life quite distinct from the moral virtues
of real life. ' Parmi nous,' says Remusat, 'un homme
religieux est trop souvent un homme qui se croit
entouré d'ennemis, qui voit avec défiance ou scandale
les événements et les institutions du siècle, qui se désole
d'être né dans les jours maudits, et qui a besoin d'un
grand fond de bonté innée pour empêcher ses pieuses
aversions de devenir de mortelles haines.' This
system is equally fatal to popular morality and to
religious theory. It locks up virtue in the cloister,
and theology in the library. It originates caste
sanctity, and a traditional philosophy. The ideal of
holiness striven after 111ay once have been lofty, the
philosophy now petrified into tradition may once have
been a vital faith, but no, v that they are ,vithdra,vn
from public life, they have ceased to be social influences.
On the other hand, the eighteenth century exhibits
human attainment levelled to the lo\vest secular model
of prudence and honesty, but still, such as it ,vas,
proposed to all men as their rule of life. Practical
life as it was, ,vas the theme of the pulpit, the press,
and the dra\ving-room. Its theory of life was not
lofty, but it ,vas true as far as it ,vent. It did not
substitute a factitious phraseology, the pass-,vords of
the modern pulpit, for the simple facts of life, but
called things by their right names. ' :Kulluln numen
habes si sit prudentia' ,vas its motto, not denying the
'nun1en,' but bringing Ilim very close to the indivi..
dual person, as his' moral governor.' The prevailing
philosophy was not a profound 111etaphysic, but it was
a soundly based arrangelnent of the facts of society;
it ,vas not a scheme of the sciences, but a n1anual for
every-day use. Nothing of the ,vild spirit of universal
negation which ,vas spread over the Continent fifty

1688- 1 75 0 .

299

years later belonged to the solid rationalism of this
period. The human understanding wished to be
satisfied, and did not care to believe that of \vhicll it
could not see the substantial ground. The reason
,vas con1ing slowly to see that it had duties ,vhich it
could not devolve upon others; that a n1an n1ust think
for himself, protect his o,vn rights, and adrninister his
o,vn affairs. The reason was never less extravagant
than in this its first essay of its strength. Its demands
,vere modest, it ,vas easily satisfied; far too easily, we
must think, when ,ve look at some of the reasonings
which passed as valid.

The habits of controversy in ,vhich they lived
deceived the belligerents themselves. The contro..
versial form of their theology, which has been fatal to
its credit since, ,vas no less detrilnental to its sound-
ness at the time. They could not discern the line
bet,veen ,vhat they did, and what they could not,
,prove. The polen1ical temper deforn1s the books they
I have written. Literature ,vas indeed partially refined
I from the coarser scurrilities with \vhich the Caroline
divines, a century before, had assailed their ROlnanist
opponents. But there is still an air of vulgarity about
the polite writing of the age, ,vhich the divines adopt
I along with its style. The cassocked divine assumes
the airs of the 'roaring blade,' and ruffles it on the
I mall ,vith a horse\vhip under his arm. Warburton's
stock argulnent is a threat to cudgel anyone \vho dis-
putes his opinion. All that can be said is that this
was a habit of treating your opponent which pervaded
society. At a much later period Porson complains,
'In these ticklish times . . . talk of religion it
is odds but you have infidel, blasphelner, atheist, or
18chisrnatic, thundered in your ears; touch upon
! p
litics, you will be in luck if you are only charged
i w1th a tendency to treason. N or is the innocence ot
! your intention any safeguard. It is not the publication

300 Tendencies of Religious Thought in England,
tllat shows the character of the author, but the
character of the author that shows the tendency of
the publication.' (Luard's' Porson,' Ca'JJlb. E8says,
18 57.) A license of party vituperation in the House
of Commons 'existed, froln the time of the opposition
to vV alpole on,vard
, \vhich has long been banished by
more hUlnane manners. 'The men ,vho took a fore-
most part seemed to be intent on disparaging each
other, and proving that neither possessed any quali-
fication of wisdom, kno,vledge, or public virtue. . I
Epithets of reproach were lavished personally on Lord
North, wllich ,vere applicable only to the vilest and
1110st contelnptible of mankind.' (l\Iassey, Hist. of
England, ii. 218.)
\Vere this blustering language a blemish of style
and nothing more, it would taint their books ,vith
vulgarity as literature, but it ,vould not vitiate tJleir
l11atter. But the fault reaches deeper than skin-deep.
It is a most serious drawback on the good-sense of the
age that it ,vanted justice in its estimate of persons.
r
rhey were no n10re capable of judging their friends
than their foes. In Pope's satires there is no mf'diunl;
our enemies combine all the odious vices, ho\vever
incongruous; our friends have 'every virtue under
lleaven.' vVe hear. sometimes of Pope's peculiar
'malignity.' But he was only doing ,yhat everyone
around him ,vas doing, only ,vith a greatly superior
literary skill. Their savage invective against each
other is not a morally ,vorse feature than the style of
fulsome compliment in which friends address each
other. The private correspondence of intin1ate friends
betrays an un,vholesome insincerity, ,vhich contrasts
strangely ,vith their general rnanljness of character.
The burly intellect. of 'Varburton displays an appetite
for flattery as insatiable as that of lVriss Seward
and her coterie.
This habit of exaggerating both good and evil the
divines share \vith the other ,Jrriters of the tilne. But

1688- 1 75 0 .

301

theological literature, as a ,vritten debate, had a form
of n1alignant ÍInputation peculiar to itself. rrhis is
one arising out of the rationalistic fiction ,vhich Lotll
parties assunled, viz., that their respective beliefs ,vere
determined by an impartial inquiry into the evidence.
The orthodox ,vriters considered this evidence so clear
and certain for their own conclusions, that they could
account for its 'not seelning so to others only by the
supposition of some moral obliquity ,vhich darkened
the understanding in such cases. Hence the obnoxious
assumption of the divines that the Deists ,vere men of
corrupt morals, and the retort of the infidel "
riters,
that the clergy were hired advocates. Moral impu-
tation, which is justly banished from legal argulnent,
seems to find a proper place in theological. Those
Christian Deists who, like Toland or Collins, ap-
proached most nearly in their belief to Revelation,
,vere treated, not better, but '\vorse, by the orthodox
champions; their larger adrnissions being in1puted to
I disingenuou
ness or calculated reserve. This stamp of
advocacy which ,vas inlpressed on English theology at
the Reformation-its first ,york of consideration ,vas
an 'Apology'-it has not to this day shaken ofF- Our
theologians, with rare exceptions, do not penetrate
belo"v the surface of their subject, but are engaged in
defending or vindicating it. The current phrases of
'the bul,varks of our faith,' 'dangerous to Christianity,'
are but instances of the habitual position in "\\rhich we
aSSluue ourselves to stand. Even more philosophic
minds cannot get rid of the idea that theology is
polemical. Theological study is still the study of
topics of defence. Even Professor Fraser can exhort us
'that by the study of these topics ,ve 11light not merely
disarln the enenlies of religion of ,vhat, in other times
has been, and ,vill continue to be a favourite ,veapon
of assault, but we might even convert that ,veapon
into an instrument of use in the Christian service.'
(Essays in Philosophy, p. 4.) 'J\Iodern science,' as it

302 Tendencies 0/ Religious Thought in England,
is called, is recommended to the young divine, because
in it he may find means of ' confuting infidelity.'
A little consideration "rill show that the grounds
on which advocacy before a legal tribunal rests, make
it inappropriate in theological reasoning. It is not
pretended that municipalla,v is coextensive ,vith uni-
versalla,v, and therefore incapable of admitting right
on botll sides. It is allo,ved that the natural right
may be, at times, on one side, and the legal title
on the other; not to mention the extreme case where
'colJl1Jlunis error facit jus.' The advocate is not there I
to supply all the materials out of which the judge is
to form his decision, but only one side of the case.
He is the mere representative of his client's interests,
and has not to discuss the abstract n1erits of the
juridical point whicll may be involved. He does not
undertake to show that the law is conformable to na-
tural right, but to establish the condition of his client
relatively to the la,v. But the rational defender of
the faith has no place in his systenl for the variable,
or the indifferent, or the non-natural. He proceeds
on tIle supposition that the whole system of the
Church is the one and exclusively true expression of
reason upon the subject on ,vhich it legislates. He
claims for the whole of received knowledge what the
jurist claims for international law, to be a universal
science. He lays before us, on the one hand, the tra-
ditional canon or synlbol of doctrine. On the other
hand, he teaches that the free use of reason upon the
facts of nature and Scripture is the real mode by
,vhich this traditional symbol is arrived at. To show,
then, that the candid pursuit of truth leads every im-
partial intellect to the Anglican conclusion ,vas the
task ,vhich, on their theory of religious proof, their
theology had to undertake. The process, accordingly,
should have been analogous t,o that of the jurist or
legislator with regard to the internal evidence, and to
that of the judge ,vith regard to the external evidence.

1688-1750.

303

If theological argument forgets the judge and aSSUlnes
the advocate, or betrays the least bias to one side, the
conclusion is valueless, the principle of free inquiry
has been violated. Ron1an Catholic theologians con-
sistently enough teach that 'apologetics' Inake no
part of theology, as usually conducted as replies to
special objections urged, but that a true apologetic
n1ust be founded (I) on a discovery of the general
principle from ,vhich the attack proceeds, and (2) on
the exhibition, .per contra, of that general ground-
thought of ,vhich the single Christian trut.hs are de-
velopnlents. (Hageman, ])ie ..t.lufgabe der Catholischen
Apolo.r;etik. )
'Vith rare exceptions the theology of the Hanove-
rian period is of the nlost violently partisan character.
It seats itself, by its theory, in the judicial chair, but
it is only to comport itself there like Judge Jefferies.
One of the favourite books of the time ,vas Sherlock's
'l'rial of the lVifnesses. First published in 1729, it
speedily went through fourteen editions. It con-
cludes in this ,vay:-
'Judge.- 'Vhat say you? Are the Apostles guilty
of giving false evidence in the case of the resurrection
of Jesus, or not guilty?
'Fore?Jlan.-Not guilty.
, Judge.- Very ,veIl; and now, gentlelnen, I resign
my commission, and am your hun1ble servant. The
company then rose up, and ,vere beginning to pay
I their eompliments to the Judge and the counsel,
but "'"ere interrupted by a gentleman, ,vho ,vent up
to the Judge and offered him a fee. "Vhat is this?'
: says the Judge. 'A fee, sir,' said the gentleman.
\ 'A fee to a judge is a bribe,' said the Judge. 'True,
! sir,' said the gentIen1an; 'but you have resigned your
I con1mission, and ,viII not be the first judge ,vho has
: COine from the bench to tIle bar ,vithout any din1i-
: nution of honour. No,v, Lazarus's case is to COine
i on next, and this fee is to retain you on his side.'

304 Tendencies of Religious Thought in England,
One might say that the apologists of that day had
in like manner left the bench for the bar, and taken
a brief for the Apostles. They are impatient at the
smallest demur, and deny loudly tl1at there is any
,veigllt in any tIling adyanced by their opponents.
In the way they override tIle most serious difficulties,
they show anything but the temper ,vhich is sup-
posed to qualify for the '\veighing of evidence. The
astonishing want of candour in their reasoning, their
blindness to real difficulty, the ill-concealed predeter-
mination to find a particular verdiet, the rise of their
style in passion in the same proportion as their argu-
ment fails in strength, constitute a class of writers
more calculated than any other to dan1age their own
cause with yonng ingenuous n1inds, bred in the school
of Locke to believe that' to love truth for truth's sake
is the principal part of llun1an perfection in this ,vorld,
and the seed-plot of all other virtues. (Locke, ret. 73.
Letter to Collins.) Spalding has described the moral
shock his faith received on hearing an eminent
clergyman in confidential conversation vyith another,
'\vho had cited some po\verful argulnent against reve-
lation, say, 'That's truly a"Tk"rard; let us consider a
little ho\v we get out of that;' 'wie wir lfJl8 salvire]}.
(Selbstb'l.ograph'l.e, p. J 28.) A truthful mind is a nluch
rarer possession than is con1illonly supposed, for' it is
as easy to close the eyes of the mind as those of the
body.' (Butler, Ser'lJlon x.) And in this rarity there
is a natural lin1it to the injury '\vhich uncandid vin-
dications of revelation can cause. To ,vhatever causes
is to be attributed the decline of Deisln, froln 175 0
on"lards, the books polemically ,vritten against it can-
not reckon among them. When Casaubon first vi-
sited Paris, and \vas being sho\vn over the Sorbonne,
his guide said, 'This is the hall in \vhich the doctors
l1ave disputed for 300 yea.rs.' , Aye! and what have
they settled?' was his remark.
Some exceptions, doubtless, there are to the incon-

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305

elusiveness of tl1is debate. Here again the eminent
exception is the Analogy. Butler, it is true, COlnes
for\vard not as an investigator, but as a pleader. But
when we pass from his inferior brethren to this great
master of the art, ,ve find ourselves in the hands of
one ,vho kno,vs the la,vs of evidence, and carefully
kpeps his statenlents ,vithin them. Butler does not,
like his fello\v apologists, disguise the fact that the
evidence is no stronger than it is. 'If it be a pOOl'
thing,' to argue in this ,yay, 'the epithet poor may be
applied, I fear, as properly to great part, or the ,vhole,
of human life, as it is to the things nlentioned.'
(Analo!J!!, Part ii. ch. 8.) Archbishop Whately, de-
fining the temper of the rational theologian, says :-
, A good Inan ,viII, indeed, ,yish to find the evidence
of the Christian religion satisfactory; but a ,vise man
,vill not, for that reason, think it satisfactory, but ,,,ill
weigh the evidence the more carefully on account of
the inlportance of the question.' (E
8ays, 2nd series,
p. 24.) This character Butler's argument exemplifies.
\Ve can feel, as ,ve read, ho,v his judgnlent 11lUst have
been offended in his contemporaries by the dispro-
portion bet\veen the positiveness of their assertion
and the feebleness of their argulnent. N or should
,ye expect that Butler satisfied thenl. They thought
him 'a little too little vigorous,' and '\vished he
would have spoke more earnestly.' (Byrolll's Journal,

Iarch, 1737.) 1\len who believed that they ,vere in
possession of a 'demonstration' of Christianity ,vere
not likely to be satisfied with one ,vho saw so strongly
'the doubtfulness in \vhich things \vere involved' tha

he could not cOll1prehend 'Inen' s being inlpatient out
of action or vehement in it.' (Unpublished Re?JlaÙzs,
g'"c.) "T arburton, ,vho has a proof ,vhich 'is very
little short of mathelnatical certainty, and to \"hich
. nothing but a nlere physical possibility of the contrary
I can be opposed' (Divine Leg., b. i.
I), ,vas the nlau
for the age, ,vhich did not care to stand higgling \vith
x

306 Tendencies of Religious Thought in ENgland,
Butler over the degrees of probability. "\Vhat could
the ,vorld do ,vith a man ,vho 'de
igned the search
after truth as the business of nlY life' (Correspondence
'with ])r. Clarice), and ,vho vvas so little prepared to
doglnatise about the future ,vorld that he rather felt
that 'there is no account to be given in the way of
reason of men's so strong attachnlents to the present
,yorld.' (J
eTJJlOn vii.) Butler' s doubtfulness, ho\yever,
it should be relnarked, is not the unsteadiness of the
sceptical, but the ,variness of the judicial nlind; a
lllind deternlined for itself by its own instinets, but
careful to confine its statements to others within the
evidence produced in court. The Analog!! does not
depicture an in,vard struggle in his o,vn nlind, but as
'he told a friend, his ,yay of writing it had been to
endeavour to answer as he went along, every possible
objection that nlight occur to anyone against any
position of his in his book.' (Bartlett's Life of Butle'/',
p. 50.) He does not doubt llinlself, but he sees, what
others do not see, the difficulty of proving religion to
others.
rhere is a saying of Pitt circulating to the
effect that the Analog!! is 'a dangerous book; it raises
more doubts than it solves.' All that is true in this
is, that to a nlind which has never nourished objections
to revelation a book of evidences nlay be the nleans of
first suggesting them. But in 1736 the objections
,vere every\vhere current, and the answers to them
V\Tere mostly of that truly 'dangerous' sort in vvhich
assertion runs allead of proof.
rhe merit of Butler
lies not in the 'irrefraga ble proof, , which Sou they' s
epitaph attributes to his construction, but in his
sho,ving the nature of the proof, and daring to adn1it
that it was less than certain; to o,vn that' a man nlay
be fully convinced of the truth of a matter and upon
the strongest reasons, and yet not be able to ans,ver
all the difficulties which ll1ay be raised upon it.'
(Durhant Cha1'"f/e, 1751.)
Another, perhaps the only other, book of this

1688- 1 75 0 .

307

polemical tribe \vhich can be said to have been COln-
pletely successful as an ans\ver, is one most unlike the
Alla1o..r;!I in all its nobler features. This is Bentley's
ReJJlarks UjJon a late Discourse of FreelhÙlkinf/, by
Phileletdherlls LipsieJlsis, 1713. Coarse, arrogant, and
abusive, \vith all Bentley's \vorst faults of style and
tenlper, t.his nlasterly critique is decisive. Not, of
course, of the Deistical controversy, on ,vhich the critic
ayoids entering. 'rhe Discourse of Freethillh:iJlf/ ,vas a
slllall tract published in 1713 by Anthony Collins.
Collins \vas a gentleman of independent fortune, ,,,hose
high personal character and general respectabilit.y
seelned to give a \veight to his ,vords, \vhich assuredly
thejr do not carry of themselves. By freethinking,
he Ineans liberty of thought-the right of bringing
all received opinions whatsoever to the touchstone of
reason. Among the grounds or authorities by \v hich
he supports this natural right, Collins unluckily had
recourse to history, and largely, of course, to the pre-
cedent of the Greek philosophers. Collins, ,yho had
been bred at Eton and ICing's, "ras probably no \yorse
a scholar than his contenlporary ICingsnlen, and the
range of his reading "'
as that of a man ,vho had
nlade the classics the con1panions of his maturer years.
But that scholarship ,vhich can supply a quotation
from Lucan, or flavour the style \vith an occasional
allusion to rTully or Seneca, is quite inco111petent to
apply Greek or Iloll1an precedent properly to a modern
case. Addison, the pride of Oxford, had done no
better. In his Essay ÚII tlte Evidences of CÏtristiaJlit!/,
Addison 'assigns as grounds for his religious belief,
stories as absurd as that of the Cocklane ghost, and
forgeries as rank as Ireland's 1 7 orti!Jern, puts faith in
the lie about the thundering legion, is convinced that
rriberius n10ved the
enate to adnlit Jesus anlong the
gods, and pronounces the letter of Agbarus, l{ing of
Edessa, to be a record of great authority.' C:\Iacaulay:
L8Sa!/s.) nut the public ,vas quite satisfied ,vith
x ;2

308 Tendencies of Religious Thollght ill EnglaJld,
Addison's citations, in \vhich a public, \vhich had
given the victory to Boyle in the Phalaris controversy,
could hardly suspect anything wrong. Collins \vas
not to escape so easily. The Freethinker flounders
hopelessly among the authorities he has invoked.
Like the necromancer's apprentice, he is \vorried by
the fiends he has sunlmoned but cannot lay, and
Bentley, on \vhose nod they \vait, is there like another
Cornelius Agrippa llounding them on and enjoying
the sport. Collins's nlistakes, nlistranslations, miscon-
ceptions, and distortions are so monstrous, that it is
difficult for us now, forgetful ho\v low classical learning
had sunk, to believe that they are mistakes, and not
wilful errors. It is rare sport to Bentley, this rat-
hunting in an old rick, and he lays about him in high
glee, braining an authority at every blow. '\Vhen he
left ofr abruptly, in the middle of a 'Third Part,' it
was not because he \vas satiated \vith slaughter, but
to substitute a ne\v exciten1ent, no less congenial to
Ilis teluper-a quarrel \vith the University about his
fees. A grace, voted 1715, tendering him the public
thanks of the University, and 'praying hinl in the
nallle of the University to finisll \vhat remains of so
useful a ,york,' could not induce hinl to resunle his
pen. 'fhe Re?Jlflrl:s of Philelelltherus LipsieJlsis, un-
finished though they are, and trifling as ,vas the book
which gave occasion to then1, are perhaps the best of
all Bentley's performances. They have all the merits
of the P halaris dissertation, ,vith the ad vantage of a
far nobler subject. TIley show ho\v Bentley's exact
appreciati.on of the value of ternlS could, \vhen he
chose to apply it to that purpose, serve him as a key
to the philosophical ideas of past tiules, no less than
to those of poetical metaphor. The tone of the
pamphlet is most offensive, 'not only not insipid, but
exceedingly bad-tasted.' 'Ve can only say the taste
is that of his age, while the knowledge is all his O\\Tn.
It ,vas fair to sho,v that his antagonist undertook 'to

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309

interpret the Prophets and Solomon \vithout IIebre\v;
Plutarch and Zosin1us (Collins spells it Zozimus)
\vithout Greek; and Cicero and Lucan \vithout Latin.'
(Re/Jlarh 1 S, Part i. NO.3.) But the dirt endeavoured
to be thro\vll on Collins ,viII cleave to the hand that
thro\vs it. It nla
r be \vorth n1ention that this tract of
Bentley contains the original of Sidney Smith's cele-
brated defence of the' prizes' in the Church.
rhe pa8-
sage is a favourable specimen of the nlorallevel of a
polemic \vho was accusing his opponent of holding
, opinions the most abject and base that human nature
is capable of.' (Letter prefixed to Benzarks.)
'He can never conceive or ,,"'ish a priesthood either
quieter for him, or cheaper, than that of the present
Church of England. Of your quietness hinlself is a
convincing proof, \vho has \vrit this outrageous book,
and has met with no punishment nor prosecution.
...tnd for the cheapness, that appeared lately in one of
your parlianlents, when the accounts exhibited sho\ved
that 6,000 of your clergy, the greater part of your
,yhole number, had, at a nliddle rate one with another,
not 50 pounds a year. A poor eU10lument for so long,
so laborious, so expensive an education, as Inust qualify
them for holy orders. "rhile I resided at Oxford, and
S
t\v such a conflux of youth to their annual adnlis-
sions, I have often studied and admired why their
parents \vould, under such mean encouragelnents,
design their sons for the church; and those the most
to\vardly, and capable, and select geniuses anlong their
children, who must needs have elnerged in a secular
life. I congratulated, indeed, the felicity of your
establishment, which attracted the choice youth of
your nation for such very low pay; but my wonder
,vas at the parents, who generally have interest, lnain-
tenance and \vealth, the :first thing in their vie\v, till
at last one of your state-lotteries ceased n1Y astonish-
ment. For as in that, a few gHttering prizes, 1,000,
5,000, 10,000 pounds among an infinity of blanks,

310 Tendencie8 qf Religiou8 Thollght ill Eugland,
dre\v troops of adventurers, "rho, if the ,vhole fund
had been equally ticketted, ,vould never have conle
in; so a fe\v shining dignities in your church, pre-
bends, deaneries, bishopricks, are the pious fraud that
induces and decoys the parents to risk their child's
fortune in it. Everyone hopes his own will get some
prize in the chureh, and never reflects on the thou-
sands of blanks in poor country livings. And if a
foreigner may tell you his nlind, from ,vhat he sees
at home, 'tis this part of you
'O establishment that n1akes
your clergy excel ours [i. e., in Germany, fronl which
I J hilelellthrrll8 Lip8ien8is is supposed to \vrite J. Do but
once level all your prefern1ents, and you'll soon be as
level in your learning. For, instead of the flo,ver of
the English youth, you'll have only the refuse sent to
your academies, and those, too, cramped and crippled
in their studies, for want of aim and emulation. So
that, if your Freethinkers had any politics, instead of
supp1'Oessing your whole order, they should make you
all alike; or, if that cannot be done, make your prefer-
nlents a very lottery in the whole sinlilitude. Let
your church dignities be pure chance prizes, \vitllout
regard to abilities, or morals, or letters.' (Re'JJlarlcs,
9'Oc., Part ii.
40.)
It has been nlentioned that Bentley does not attenlpt
to reply to the argument of the IJiscollrse on Free-
thinh
in!J. His tactic is to ignore it, and to assun1e
that it is only meant as a covert attack on Christianity;
that Collins is an Atheist fighting under the disguise
of a Deist. Some excuse perhaps nlay be made for a
Ulan nourished on pedagogic latin, and accustolned to
launch furious sarcasm at any opponent ,vho betrayed
a brutal ignorance of the difference bet,veen ' ac' and
'et.' But Collins ,vas not a sharper, and would have
disdained practices to ,vhicl1 Bentley stooped for the

ake of a professorship. "Then BentleJ, in the pride
of academic dignity, could thus hro\vbeat a person of
Collins's consideration, it ,vas not to be expected that

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311

the inferior fry of Deistical \vriters,-Toland, a \vriter
for the press; Tindal, a fello\v of a college; or Chubb,
a journeyman glover-met "vitIl fairer treatnlent frolll
their opponents. The only exception to this is the
case of Shaftesbury, to \vhom, as \vell after his death
as in his lifetime, his privileges as a peer seenl to have
secured Î111111Unity frolll hangman's usage. He is
Silllply 'a late noble author.' Nor \vas this respect
inspired by the Earl's profession of christianity. He
does, indeed, nlake this profession with the utmost
unreserve. He asserts his 'steady orthodoxy,' and
, entire subulission to the truly Christian and Catholic
doctrines of our holy Church, as by la\v established,'
and that he holds 'the mysteries of our religion even
in the lllinntest particulars.' (Character'isticks,V 01. iii.
p. 315.) But this out\vard profession \vould only have
brought do\vn upon any other \vriter an aggravated
charge of co\vardly lllalice and concealnlent of Atheism.
If Shaftesbury \vas spared on account of his rank, the
orthodox \,"Titers \vere not altogether \vrong in fasten-
ing upon this disingenuousness as a III oral charac-
tp,ristic of their antagonists. The excuse for this \vant
of nlanliness in men \vho please themselves \vith in-
sinuating unpopular opinions \vhich they dare not
advocate openly, is that it is an injustice perpetrated by
those ,vho have public feeling on their side. ' They
nlake,' says
lr. Tayler, 'the honest expression of
opinion penal, and then condemn nlen for disingenu-
ousne
s.
rhey invite to free discussion, but deter-
luine beforehand that only one conclusion can be sound
and Inoral. They fill the arena of public debate \vith
every instrument of torture and annoyance for the
feeling heart, the sensitive imagination, and the scru-
pulous intellect, and then are angry that men do not
rush headlong into the martyrdoln that has been pre-
pared for thenl.' (Religiou8 Life of Bngland, p. 282.)
In days \vhen the pillory \va
the punishnlent for
COlnlllon libel, it cannot be thought luuch that heresy

312 Tendencie8 of Religioll8 Thought in EJtgland,
and infidelity should be punished by public opprobriu111.
And public abhorrence was the lllost that a writer
against revelation had now to fear.
Iandeville' s
Fable of the Bees, indeed, ,vas presented as a nuisance
by the grand jury of J\11iddlesex, in 1723, as ,vere
Bolingbroke's collected' lVoTÀ's,' in 17.52, and Toland's
Christia1lit!/ not J[!Jðteriolls, in 1699. 'Ve find, too, that
Toland had to fly fronl Dublin, and Collins to go out
of the \vay to Holland, for fear of further ronseq uences.
But nothing ever came of these presentments. The
only prosecution for religious libel was that of 'V 001.
ston, 2 George II., in ,vhich the defendant, ,vho ,vas
not of sound mind, provoked and even cOlllpelled the
]a,v officers of the cro\vn to proceed against him,
though they \vere very reluctant to do so. 'Vhen
thus compelled to declare the la\v, on this occasion,
the Lord Chief Justice (Raynlond) ',vould not allo\v
it to be doubted that to write against Christianity in
general was punishable at common la,v.' Yet both
then and since, judges and prosecutors have sho\vn
themselves shy of insisting upon the naked offence of
'impugning the truth of Christianity.' That it is an
offence at COlnmon la\v, independent of 9 & 10 'Vil.
lialn Ill., no la\vyer ,viII deny. But an instinctive sense
of the inconlpatibility of this legal doctrine with the
fundanlental tenet of Protestant rationalisnl has always
served to keep it in the background. 'The judges
seenl to have played fast and loose in this matter, in
such sort as might enable the future judge to quote
the tolerant or the intolerant side of their doctrine as
might prove convenient; and ,vhile seen1ingly dis-
avo\ving all interference with fair discussion, they
still kept a wary hold of the precedents of Hale and
Rayn1ond, and of the great arcanum of' part and
parcel;' 'semianimesque n1icant digiti, ferrulnque
retractant.' (Consideratiolls on the Law of Lióel. By
John Search, 1833.)
"That ever excuse the Deistical \vriters 111ight have

1688- 1 75 0 .

313

for their insidious manner of \vriting, it is nlore to the
present purpose to observe that \ve may draw from it
the conclusion that public opinion \vas throughout on
the side of the defenders of Christianity. It might
seem almost superfluous to say this, \vere it not that
complaints meet us on every side, \vhich seem to
inlp]y the very contrary; that in the words of 1\11'.
Gregory, 'the doctrine of our Church is exploded,
and our holy religion become only a nanle \vhich is
everywhere spoken against.' (Prej. to Beveridge's
Private l'hollghts, 1709.) Thirty years later Butler
\,,-rites, that 'it is come to be taken for granted that
Christianity is not so much as a subject of inquiry;
hut that it is no\v, at length, discovered to be fictitious.
Accordingly they treat it as if in the present age this
\vere an agreed point anlong all people of discernment,
and nothing remained but to set it up as a principal
subject of nlirth and ridicule, as it \vere by way of
reprisals for its having so long interrupted the pleasures
of the world.' (Advertise1Jlent to
lnalogy, 1736.) How-
ever a loose kind of Deism Inight he the tone of
fashionable circles, it is clear that distinct dis belief
of Christianity ,vas by no means the general state of
the public nlind. The leaders of the Low-church and
L \V11Ïg party were quite a ,yare of this. N ot\vithstand-
iug the universal conlplaints of the High-church party
of the prevalence of infidelity, it is obvious that this
I mode of thinking \vas confined to a very small section
I of society. The Independent lVhig (
Iay 4, 1720), in
the middle of its blustering and endeavours to terrify
the clergy ,vith their unpopularity, is obliged to adnlit
that 'the High-church Popish clergy ,viII laugh in
their sleeves at this advice, and think there is folly
I enough yet left an10ng the laity to support their
authority; and ,villiaugh thenlselves, and rejoice over
the ignorance of the Universities, the stupidity of the
drunken squires, the pannic of the tender sex, and
the never-to-be.shaken constancy of the nlultitude.'

314 l'eJldencies qf Religious ThoNght ill Eugland,
A still better evidence is tIle confidence and success
with which the writers on the side of Revelation
appealed to the popular passions, and co,ved their
Deistical opponents into the use of that indirect and
disingenuous procedure ,vith which they then taunted
thenl. The clerical sphere ,vas much 1110re a sphere
by itself than it has since become. N ot"vithstanding
the large toleration really practised, strict professional
etiquette ,vas still observed in the Church and the
"IT niversities. The horizontal hat, the starched band,
and the cassock, \vere still ,vorn in public, and certain
proprieties of out,,'"ard nlanner were expected from 'the
cloth.' The violation of these proprieties ,vas puni
hed
by the forfeiture of the offenders' prospects of prefer-
ment, a point on which the most extrenle sen
itiveness
existed. In the Balguy and "r aterland set an officious
spirit of delation seems to haye flourished. The
general habit of publicly canvassing religious topics
,vas very favourable to this espionage; as, at the
Refornlation, the Catholics gathered their best calunlnies
against Luther fronl his unreserved' table-talk.'
It ,vas not difficult to dra,v the unhappy }Iiddleton
into 'unguarded expressions' (Van l\lildert, Life of
lJTateTland, p. 162); and something ,vhicll had fallen
fronl Rundle in his younger days ,vas used against him
so successfully that eyen the
ralbot interest was able
to procure hinl only an Irish bishoprick. Lord
Chesterfield, seeing \vhat advantage the High-church
party derived from this tactic, endeavoured to turn it
against then). He gives a circumstantial account of
a conversation ,vith Pope, ,vhicll ,vould tend to prove
that Atterbury ,vas, nearly all his life, a sceptic. The
thing was not true, as 1\11'. Carruthers has sho"Tn
(Life of Pope, 2nd ed. p. 213), and true or false, the
,veapon in Chesterfield's hands ,yas pointless.
Though the general feeling of the country ,vas
sufficiently decided to oblige all \vho ,,'"ished to ,vrite
against Christianity, to do so ul1der a nlask, this \vas

1688- 1 75 0 .

315

not the case ,vith attacks upon the Clergy. Since the
days of the Lollarc1s there had never been a time
\vhen the established Tninisters of religion \vere held
in so much contempt as in the Hanoverian period, or
"Then satire upon churchmen was so congenial to
general feeling. This too \vas the nlore extraordinary,
a
there ,vas no feeling against the Church Establish-
nlent, nor was non-confor111ity as a theory ever less in
favour. The contenlpt \vas for the persons, nlanners,
and character of the ecclesiastics. 'Vhen :ßlacaulay
brought out his portrait of the clergyman of the
revolution period, his critics endeavoured to sho,v that
that portrait ,vas not true to life. They seem to have
brought out the fact that it ,vas pretty fairly ti'ue to
literature. The difficult point is to estimate ho\v far
the satirical and popular literature of any age may be
taken as representative of life. Satire to be popular
must exaggerate, but it must be exaggeration of kno\vn
and recognisecl facts. 1\11'. Churchill Babington (Cha-
racter of the Cler!!!!, frc., considered, p. 48) sets aside
t\VO of 1\Iacaulay's authorities, Oldham and T. ,V ood,
because Oldhanl ,vas an Atheist and ,V ood a Deist.
.A.dmitting that an Atheist and a Deist can be under no
obligation to truth, yet a satirist, ,vho intends to be
read, is under the most inevitable engagement to the
probable. Satire does not create the sentinlent tü
,vhieh it appeals. A portrait of the country parson
temp. George the Second ,vhich should be dra,vn
verbatim from the pamphlets of the day \vould be no
more historical, than is that portrait of the begging
friar of the sixteenth century ,vhich our historians
repeat after Eraslnus and the þ!pÙdo!æ Ob8CUrOrllJJZ
VirorltJn. History nlay be extracted from then1, but
these caricatures are not thenlselves history.
One inference ,vhich \ve lllaysafelydra"T is that public
feeling encouraged such representations. It is a sYlnp-
tOlll of the religious ten1per of the tinles, that the sanle
public ,vhich compelled the Deist to wear the mask of

31 G Tendencies of Religious Thought in EJlgland,
, solemn sneer' in his assaults upon Christian doctrine,
required no such disguise or reserve ,vhen the nlinisters
of the Church ,vere spoken of. N or does the evidence
consist in a fe\vstrayextracts from here and there aDeist
or a cynic, it is the tone of all the popular writers of
that time. The unedifying lives of the clergy are a
standard theme of sarcasm, and continue to be so till
a late period in the century, ,vhen a gradual change
may be observed in the language of literature. This
antipatl1Y to the clergy visible in the Hanoverian
period, adlnits of cOlllparison \vith that vein ,vhich
colours the popular songs of the 'Vickliffite era. In
the fifteenth century, tIle satire is not indiscriminate.
It is against the monks and friars, the bishops and
cardinals, as distinct frotn the 'poor persoun of a toun.'
Its point against the organized hypocrisy of the Papal
Churchrnen is given it by the picture of the ideal
nlinister of 'Christe's Gospel' ,vhicll al,vays aCCOln-
panies the burlesque. In the eighteentll century the
license of satire goes much beyond this. In the early
part of the century we find clerical satire observing to
some extent a sinlilar discrinIination. The Tory
parson is libelled al\vays ,vith an ostentatious reserve
of commendation for the more enlightened and liberal
Hanoverian, the staunch maintainer of the Protestant
succession. This is the tone of the IndfjJcndellt Whig,
one of the nU111erOUS week'y sheets called into being
in imitation of the Tatler. It ,vas started in 1720,
taking for its exclusiye theme the clergy, ,vhom it ,vas
its ayowed object to abuse. A paper canIe out every
'Vednesday. It ,vas not a ne,vspaper, and does not
deal in libel or personalities, hardly ever mentioning
a name, very rarely quoting a fact, but dilating in ge-
neral tern1S upon clerical ignorance and bigotry. This
dull and worthless trash not only had a considerable
circulation at the time, but was reprinted, and passed
through several editions in a collected fornl. The
bishops talked of prohibiting it" but" on secondthoughts,

1688- 1 75 0 .

317

acted more ,visely in taking no notiee of it. The only
part of the kingdonl into ,,'"hich it could not find
entrance ,vas the Isle of
ran, ,vhere the saintly
",'Tilson conlbined ,vith apostolic virtues much of the
old episcopal clainls over the consciences of his flock.
The Independent ff7Ûg, though manifestly ,vritten by
a man of no religion, yet finds it necessary to keep up
the appearance of encouraging the 'better sort' of
clergy, and affecting to despise only the political
priests, the meddling cllaplain, the preferlnent-hunter,
the toper, who is notable at bo,vls, and dexterous at
\v hisk.
As \ve advance to\vards the middle of the century,
and the French influence begins to Iningle ,vith pure
English Deism, the spirit of contempt spreads till it
in volves all priests of all reEgions. The language
no\v. is, 'The established clergy in every country are
generally the greatest enemies to all kinds of refor-
lllation, as they are generally the nlost narro\v-lllinded
and nlost \vorthless set of nlen in every country. For-
tunately for the present tinles, the \vings of clerical
po\ver and influence are pretty close trinllned, so that
I do not think their opposition to the proposed re-
formations could be of any great consequence, more
of the people being inclined to despise them, than
to follo\v them blindly.' (Burgh, Political JJisquisi-
!iOll8, 1774.) It was no longer for their vires that the
clergy ,vere reviled, for the philosopher no\v had conle
to understand that 'their yirtues ,vere nlore dangerous'
to society. Strictness of life did but increase the dislike
,,
th \vhich the clergyman was regarded; his nlorality
was but double-d yeel hypocrisy; religious language
fronl his mouth ,vas Inethodistical cant. Nor diel the
orthodox attell1pt to struggle ,vith this sentÎ1nent.
They yielded to it, and adopted for their llla
inl of
conduct, 'surtout point de zèle.' Their sernlons and
11alnphlets ,vere no\v directed against' Ellthusiasnl,'
,vhich became the bugbear of that time. Every

31 S TC/ldeJlcies of Religious l'ltollght in ElIgland,
clergyman, ,yho ,vished to retain any influence over
the n1inds of his parishioners, ,vas anxious to vindi-
cate hilllself from all suspicion of enthusiaslll. "Then
he had set hin1self right in tllis respect, he endea-
voured to do the same good office for the Apostles.
But if lle were not an 'enthusiast,' he was an ' in1-
postor.' For every clel'gyman of the Cllurch had
against hinl an antecedf'nt preSulllption as a 'priest.'
It ,vas no\v ,veIl understood, by all enlightened Inen,
that the \vhole sacerdotal brood ,vere but a set of im.
postors, who lived by deceiving the people, and \vho
had invent.ed religion for tlleir o\vn benefit. Natural
religion needed no 'priests' to uphold it; it was
obvious to every understanding, and could n1aintain
itself in the ,vorld ,yithout any confraternity s\vorn to
the secret.
Again came a change. As the 1Iethodist move-
ment gradually leavened the 111aSS beneath, zeal caIne
again into credit. The old 'Vickliffite, or Puritan,
distinction is revived bet\Veell the ' Gospel preachers'
and the' dumb dogs.' The antipathy to priests ,vas
no longer pronliscuous. Popular indignation ,,,as
l'eserved for the fox-hunter and the pluralist; the
Hophni and Phinehas generation; the n1en, ,,-rho are
described as 'careless of dispensing the bread of life
to their flocks, preaching a carnal and soul-hellun1bing
morality, and trafficking in the souls of men by re-
ceiving nloney for discharging the pastoral office in
parishes \vhere they did not so lTIucll as look on the
faces of the people more than once a year.' In the
,veIl-known satire of Co,vper, it .is no longer irreligious
Dloeking at sacred things under pretence of a virtuous
inùignation. It becon1es again ,vhat it was before
the 1
eforn1atiol1-an earnest feeling, a religious sen-
timent, the moral sense of man; Russ or Sayonarola
appealing to the ,vritten 1110rality of the Gospel
against the practical inl nlorality consecrated by the
Church.

1688- 1 75 0 .

319

Something too of the old anti-hierarchical feeling
accompanies this revival of the influence of the in-
ferior clergy; a faint reflection of the bitter hatred
which the Lollard had borne to pope and cardinal, or
the Puritan to 'Prelacy.' The utility of the episco-
pal and capitular dignities continued to be questioned
long after the evangelical parish pastor had re-estab-
lished hinlself in the affections of his flock, and J 832
sa\v the cathedrals go do,vn anlid the general appro-
bation of all classes. In the earlier half of the cen-
tury the reverse ,vas the case. 'rhe boorish country
parðon ,vas the roan 'v hose order ,vas despised then, and
his utility questioned. The Freethinkers thelllselves
could not deny that the bench and the stalls ,vere
graceù by some ,vhose ,vit, reputation, and learning
would have nlade theln considerable in any profession.
The higher clergy had ,vith theJTI the to,vn aud the
court., the country clergy sided ,vith the squires. The
Inass of the clergy ,vere not in sympathy, either politi-
, cally or intellectually, with their ecclesiastical superiors.
The Tory fox-hunter in the Freeholder CNo. 22.) thinks
, the neighbouring shire very happy for having scarce
a Presbyterian in it except the bishop;' ,vhile Hickes
, thanks God that the nlain body of the clergy are in
their hearts J acobites.' The bishops of George the
I Second deserved the respect they nlet with. At no
period in the history of our Church has the ecclesi-
astical patronage of the cro"'"n been better directed
than ,yhile it ,yas secretly dispensed Ly Queen Caroline.
For a brief period, liberality and cultivation of mind
,yere passports to pronlotion in the Church. Nor
,yere politics a hindrance; the queen earnestly pressed
an English see upon Bishop'Vilson. The corruption
which began ,vith the Duke of Newcastle (Iï46)
gradually deepened in the subsequent reign, as poli-
tical orthodoxy and connexion ,vere made the tests,
and the borough-holders divided the dignities of the
Church among their adherents.

820 Tendencies 0/ Religious Thought i,l England,
Of an age so solid and practical it was not to be
expected that its theology and metaphysics would
mount into the more Telnote spheres of abstraction.
Their line of argunlent ,vas, as has been seen, regulated
by the necessity they laid themselves under of appeal-
ing to sound sense and common reason. But not only
"vas their treatnlent of their topic popular, the motive
of their ,vritings was an inlnlediate practical necessity.
Bishops and deans nlight be made for merit, but it
"Tas not mere literary nlerit, classical scholarship, or
University distinction. The Deistical controversy did
not originate, like Sonle other controversies which
have nlade nluch noise in their time, in speculative
fancy, in the leisure of the cloister, or the college. It
had a living practical interest in its complication with
.the questions of the day. The endeavour of the
moralists and divines of the period to rationalize re-
ligion ,vas in fact an effort to preserve the practica]
principles of moral and religious conduct for society.
It was not an academical disputation, or a eontest of
wits for superiority, but a life and deatll struggle of
religious and moral feeling to maintain itself. What
they felt they had to contend against ,yas lnoral de-
pravity, and not theological error; they ,vrote less in
the interest of truth than in that of virtue. A
general relaxation of manners, in all classes of society,
is universally affirnled to be characteristic of that time;
and theology and philosophy applied tbenlselves to com-
bat tIlis. A striking instance of this is Bishop Berkeley,
the only nletaphysical ,vriter of the time, besides
Locke, ,vho has nlaintained a very high name in phi-
los'ophical history. He forms a solitary-it might
seem a singular-exception to 'v hat has been said of
tIle prosaic and unmetaphysical character of this mo-
ralising age. The two peculiar metaphysical notions
which are connected with B(Jrkeley's name, and which,
though he did not originate, he propounded ,vith a
novelty and distinctness equal to originality, have

1688-r 750.

321

al ways ranked as being on the extren1e verge of ra-
tional speculation, if not actually within the region of
unfruitful paradox and Inetaphysical ron1ance. These
t,vo memorable speculations, as propounded by Berke-
ley in the
llciphroJl, come before us not as a Utopian
dream, or an ingenious play of reason, but interwoven
in a polemic against the prevailing unbelief. They
are nlade to bend to a most practical purpose, and are
Berkeley's contribution to the Deistical controversy.
The character of the man, too, ,vas more in harillony
,vith the plain utilitarian spirit of his time than \vith
his own refining intellect. He ,vas not a closet-
thinker, like his master 1Ialebranche, but a man of
the ,vorld and of society, inquisitive and ,veIl inforJned
in many branches of practical science. Practical
schemes, social and philanthropic, occupied his mind
Dlore than ab
tract thinking. In pushing t,he received
metaphysical creed to its paradoxical consequences, as
nluch as in prescribing' tar-,vater,' he ,vas thinking
only of an ilnmediate 'benefit to Inankind.' He seems
to have thought nothing of his argument until he had
I brought it to bear on the practical question of the day.
'Vere the' corruption of manners' merely the com-
plaint of one party or set of writers, a cry of factious
Puritanisnl, or of 11len who ,vere at ,val' ,vith society,
I like the N onjuring clergy, or of a fe,v isolated indi-
viduals of superior piety, like 'Villian1 La\v, it ,yould
be easily explicable.
rhe' ,vorld' at all titlles, and in
all countries, can be described "rith truth as 'lying in
,vickedness,' and the rebuke of the preacher of righte-
ousness is equally needed in every age. There cannot
be a darker picture than that dra,vn by the Fathers
of the third century of the nlorals of the Christians
in their time. (See passages in J e"rel's Apolo!JY.) 'The
rigorous n10ralist, heathen or Christian, can al \vays
point in sharp contrast the vices and the belief of
nlallkind. But, after D1aking every allo\vance for the
eÀaggeration of religious rhetoric, and the querulous-
y

3
"
_....J

Tendencies of Religious Thought in England,

ness of defeated parties, there seems to remain some
real evidence for ascribing to that age a more than
usual moral licence, and contenlpt of external restraints. I
It is tIle concurrent testinlony of men of all parties, it is
the general strain of the most sensible and worldly
divines, prosperous lnen who lived with this very \vorld
they censure, Inen \vhose code of morals ,vas not large,
nor their standard exacting. To attenlpt the inquiry
\vhat specific evils ,vere meant by the general expres-
sions ' decay of religion' and 'corruption of n1anners,'
the stereotype phrases of the time, is not within the
limits of this paper. No historian, as far as laIn
aware, has attempted this examination; all have been
content to render, without valuation, the charges as
they find them. I shall content lnyself ,vith producing
here one statenlent of contemporary opinion on this
point; for \vhich purpose I select a laynlan, David
Hartley. (ObservatioJl8 011 JIan, vol. ii. p. 441.)
'There are six things ,vhicll seenl more especially
to threaten ruin and dissolution to the present States
of Christendonl.
, I st. The great gro\vth of atheism and infidelity,
particularly amongst the governing parts of these
States.
'2nd. The open and abandoned lewdness to \vhich
great nunlbers of both sexes, especially in the high
ranks of life, have given thelnselves up.
'3rd. rrhe sordid and avo,ved self-interest, which is
almost the sole nlotive of action in those who are
concerned in the administration of public affairs.
'4th. The licentiousness and contempt of every
kind of authority, divine or hUlnan, \vhich is so noto-
rious in inferiors of all ranks.
'5th. The great \vorldly-mindedness of the clergy,
and their gross neglect in the discharge of their proper
functions.
'6th. The carelessness and infatuation of parents
.and magistrates with respect to the education of

J688- 1 75 0 .

323

youth, and the consequent early corruption of the
rising generation.
, All these things have evident mutual connexions
and influences; and as they all seem likely to increase
from time to time, so it can scarce be doubted by a
considerate Inan, whether he be a religious one or no,
but that they \vill, sooner or later, bring on a total dis-
solution of all the forms of government that subsist
at present in the Christian countries of Europe.'
Though there is this entire unanimity as to the fact
of the prevailing corruption, there is the greatest
diversity of opinion as to its cause. Each party is
found in turn attributing it to the neglect or disbelief
of the abstract propositions in ,vhich its o\vn particular
creed is expressed. The N onjurors and High-
Churchmen attribute it to the Toleration Act and the
latituùinarianisnl allowed in high places. One of the
very popular pamphlets of the year 1721 ,vas a fast-
serlnon preached before the Lord l\Iayor by Ednlund

Iassey, in ,vhich he enUIDPrates the evils of the time,
and affirms that they' are justly chargeable upon the
corrupt explication of those ,vords of our Saviour,
':ßly kingdonl is not of this ,,"orlel' -i.e., upon Hoad-
ley's celebrated sernlOll. The latitudinarian clergy
divide the blame bet\veen the Freethinkers and the
Nonjurors. The Freethinkers point to the hypocrisy
of the Clergy, ,vho, they say, lost all credit ,vith the
people by having preached 'passive obedience' up to
1688, and then suddenly finding out that it ,vas not a
scriptural truth. The N onconfornlists lay it to the
enforcement of conformity and un c;;;criptural ternlS of
comnlunion; while the Catholics rejoice to see in it
the Protestant Reformation at last bearing its natural
fruit. 'Varburton characteristically attributes it to
the besto\val of 'preferment' by the 'Val pole adnlinis-
tration. (Dedication to Lord l\Iansfield, lfTorÁ's, ii. 268.)
'The po\yer of prefernlent was not under-estimated
then. George II. nlain tained to the last that the
y 2

324 Tendencies oj Reli!Jious Thought in England,
gro\vth of 1\Iethodism was entirely o,ving to nlinisters
not having listened to his advice, and 'made 'Vhite-
field a bishop.' Lastly, that everyone nlay have
his say, a professor of moral philosophy in our day
is found attributing the same facts to the prevalence
of 'that low vie,v of morality which rests its rules
upon consequences luerely.'
, The reverence ,vhich,' says Dr. "Tbewell, 'handed
down by the traditions of ages of moral and religious
teaching, had hitherto protected the accustomed forms
of moral good, ,vas gradually removed. Vice, and
crime, and sin, ceased to be ,vords that terrified the
popular speculator. Virtue, and goodness, and purity
were no longer things ,vhich he looked up to ,vith
TIlute respect. He ventured to lay a sacrilegious
11and even upon these hallo,ved shapes. He sa,v that
when this llad been dared by audacious theorists,
those objects, so long venerated, seemed to have no
power of punishing the bold intruder. There wa.s a
scene like that which occurred ,vhen the barbarians
broke into the Eternal City. At first, in spite of
thenlselves, they were awed by the divine aspect of
the ancient nlagistrates; but ,vllen once their leader
had snlitten one of these venerable figures with inl-
punity, the coarse and violent lTIob rushed on,yarc1s,
and exultingly mingled all in one conlffion destruction.'
(11Ioral Philosoph!! in England, p. 79.)
The actual sequence of cause and effect seeIns, if it
be not presunlptuouS to say so, to be as nearly as
possible inverted in this eloquent stateillent. The
licentiousness of talk and Inanners was not produced
by the moral doctrines pronlulgated; but the doctrine
of moral consequences ,vas had recourse to by the
divines and moralists as the lUost likely renledy of the
prevailing licentiousness. It was an attempt, ,vell-
lueant but not successful, to arrest the ,vanton pro-
ceedings of 'the coarse and violent nlob.' Good men
saw ,vith alarm, almost with despair, that ,vhat they

1688- 1750.

325

, said in the obsolete language of religious teaching ,vas
not listened to, and tried to address the age in plain
and unmistakeable terms. The new theory of conse-
I quences was not introduced by 'men of leisure' to
supplant and overthro\v a nobler and purer view of
religion and morality, it was a plain fact of religion
stated in plain language, in the hope of deterring the
,vicked from his wickedness. It \vas the address of
the Old Testament prophet, '\Vhy ,vill ye die, 0
I house of Israel?' That there is a God and moral
Governor, and that obedience to His commands is
necessary to secure our interests in this world and the
next-if any form of rational belief can control the
actions of a rational being, it is surely this. On the
rationalist hypothesis, the morality of consequences
I ought to produce the most salutary effects on the
general behaviour of mankind. This obligation of
obedience, the appeal to our desire of our own welfare,
,vas the substance of the practical teaching of the age.
It ,vas stated \vith great cogency of reasoning, and
enforced with every variety of illustration. Put its
proof at the lowest, let it be granted that they did
not succeed in removing all the objections of the
Deistical writers, it must, at least, be allowed that
they showed, to the satisfaetion of all prudent and
thinking men, that it ,vas safer to believe Christianity
true than not. The obligation to practice in point of
prudence was as perfect as though the proof had been
demonstrative. And what was the surprising result?
That the more they demonstrated the less people be-
lieved. As the proof of morality ,vas elaborated and
strengthened, the n10re it ,vas disregarded, the more
ungodliness and profaneness flourished and grew.
This is certainly not what we should antecedently
expect. If, as Dr. 'Vhewell aSSUlnes, and the whole
doctrinaire school ,vith him, the speculative belief of
an age determines its moral character, that should be
the purest epoch where the morality of consequences

326 Tendencies of Religious Thought in England,
is placed in the strongest light-when it is most COll-
vincingly set before men that their present and future
,velfare depends on how they act; that 'all we enjoy,
and great part of ,vhat we suffer, is placed in our
own hands.'
Experience, however, tlle testimony of history, dis-
plays to us a result the very reverse. The experiment
of the eighteentll century may surely be considered
as a decisive one on tllis point. The failure of a pru-
dential system of ethics as a restraining force upon
society was perceived, or felt in the ,vay of reaction,
by the Evangelical and l\Iethodist generation of
teachers who succeeded the Hanoverian divines. So
far their perception was just. They went on to infer
that, because the circulation of one system of belief
had been inefficacious, they should try the effect of
inculcating a set of trutlls as widely remote from the
former as possible. Because legal preaching, as they
phrased it, had failed, they would essay Gospel preach-
ing. The preaching of justification by works had not
the power to check wickedness, therefore justification
by faith, the doctrine of tIle Reforlnation, was the
only saving truth. This is not meant as a complete
account of the origin of the Evangelical school. It is
only one point of view-that point ,vhich connects the
school with the general line of thought this paper has
been pursuing. Their doctrine of conversion by
supernatural influence must on no account be for-
gotten. Yet it appears that they thought that the
channel of tllis supernatural influence ,vas, in S01l1e
way or other, preaching. Preaching, too, not as
rhetoric, but as the annunciation of a specific doctrine
-the Gospel. They certainly insisted on ' the heart'
being touched, and that the Spirit only had the po"Ter
savingly to affect the heart; but they acted as though
this ,vere done by an appeal to the reason, and scorn-
fully rejected the idea of religious education.
It should also be ren1arked that even the divines of

1688- 1 75 0 .

327

, the Hanoverian school were not wholly blind to some
flaw in their theory, and to the practical inefficacy of
their doctrine. Not that they underrated the force
I of their demonstrations. As has been already said,
the greater part of them over-estimated their convinc-
ingness, but they could not but see that they did not,
in fact, convince. 'Vhen this was forced upon their
observation, ,vhen they perceived that an a priori de-
nlonstration of religion Inight be placed before a man,
and that he did not see its force, then, inconsequent
with their o\vn theory, they had recourse to the notion
of moral culpability. If a person refused to admit
the evidence for revelation, it was because he did not
exanline it with a dispassionate mind. His under-
standing ,vas biassed by his \vishes; some illicit pas-
sion he was resolved on gratifying, but which prudence,
forsooth, would not have allowed him to gratify so
long as he continued to believe in a future judgment.
The \vish that there 'were no God suggested the thought
that there is not. Speculative unbelief is thus as-
serted to be a consequence of a bad heart: it is the
grounds upon \vhich ,ve endeavour to prove to our-
selves and others that the indulgence of our passions
is consistent with a rational prudence. As levelled
against an individual opponent, this is a poor contro-
versial shift.
Iany of the Deists ,vere men of ,vorth
and probity; of none of them is anything kno,vn
\vhich would make them worse men than the average
of their class in life. 1\11". Chichester (.Dei8JJl cOJJljJared
with Christianity, 1821, vol. iii. p. 220) says 'Tindal
was infamous for vice in general;' but I have not
been able to trace his authority for the assertion. As
an ilnputation, not against individual unbelievers, but
against the conlpetency of reason in general, it may
be true, but is quite inconsistent \vith the general hypo-
thesis of the school of reasoners ,vho brought it. If
reason be liable to an influence \vhich ,varps it, tl1en
there is required some force which shall keep this in-

328 Tendencies of Religiou8 Thought in England,
fluence under, and reason alone is no longer the all-
sufficient judge of truth. In this ,yay ,ve should be
forced back to the old orthodox doctrine of the chronic
impotence of reason, superinduced upon it by the Fall ;
a doctrine which the reigning orthodoxy had tacitly
renounced.
In the Catholic theory the feebleness .of Reason is
met half-,vay and made good by the authority of the
Church. "\Vhen the Protestants threw off this
authority, they did ..not assign to Reason what they
took from the Church, but to Scripture. Calvin did
not shrink from saying that Scripture 'shone suffi-
ciently by its own light.' As long as this could be
kept to, the Protestant theory of belief was wbole and
sound. At least it was as sound as the Catholic. In
both, Reason, aided by spiritual illumination, perfornls
the subordinate function of recognising the s
lprelne
authority of the Church, and of the Bible, respectively.
Time, learned controversy, and abatement of zeal
drove the Protestants generally from the hardy but
irrational assertion of Calvin. Every foot of ground
that Scripture lost was gained by one or other of the
three substitutes: Church-authority, the Spirit, or
Reason. Church-authority ,vas essayed by the Lau-
dian divines, but was soon found untenable, for on
that footing it was found ÍInpossible to justify the
Reformation and the breach with Rome. The Spirit
then came into favour along with Independency. But
it was still Inore quickly discovered that on such a
basis only discord and disunion could be reared. There
relnained to be tried Common Reason, carefully dis-
tinguished from recondite learning, and not based on
metaphysical aSsulllptions. To apply this instrument
to the contents of Revelation ,vas the occupation of
the early half of the eighteenth century; with what
success has been seen. In the latter part of the cen-
tury the same Common Reason was applied to the
external evidences. But here the method fails in a

1688- 1 75 0 .

329

first requisit.e-universality; for even ..the shallowest
array of historical proof requires some book-learning
to apprehend. Further than this, the Lardner and
Paley school could not complete their proof satisfacto-
rily, inasnluch as the materials for the investigation
of the first and second centuries of the Christian era
,vere not at hand.
Such appears to be the past history of the Theory
of Belief in the Church of England. 'Vhoever ,vould
take the religious literature of the present day as a
whole, and endeavour to n1ake out clearly on what
basis Revelation is supposed by it to rest, ,vhether on
Authority, on the In,varc1 Light, on Reason, on self-
evidencing Scripture, or on the combination of the
four, or some of them, and in what proportions, would
probably find that he had undertaken a perplexing but
not altogether profitless inquiry.

ON THE INTERPRETATION OF SCRIPTURE.

.

I T is a strange, though familiar fact, that great
differences of opinion exist respectin g the In terpre-
tation of Scripture. All Christians receive the Old
and New Testament as sacred ,vritings, but they are
not agreed about the meaning which they attribute
to theIne The book itself remains as at the first; the
commentators seem rather to reflect the changing
atmosphere of the ,vorld or of the Church. Different
individuals or bodies of Christians have a different
point of view, to ,vhicll their interpretation is narro\vec1
or made to conform. It is assumed, as natural and
necessary, that the same words will present one idea
to the mind of the Protestant, another to the Ron1an
Catholic; one meaning to the German, another to the
English interpreter. The Ultramontane or Anglican
divine is not supposed to be impartial in his treatn1ent
of passages which afford an apparent foundation for
the doctrine of purgatory or the prin1acy of St. Peter
on tIle one hand, or the three orders of clergy and
the divine origin of episcopacy on the other. It is a
received vie\v witIl many, that the meaning of the
Bible is to be defined by that of the Prayer-book;
,,-.-hile there are others who interpret 'the Bible and
the Bible only' \vith a silent reference to the traditions
of the Reformation. PhilosopI1ical differences are in
the background, into which the differences about
Scripture also resolve themselves. They seem to run

On the InterpretatioJl of Scripture. 331
up at last into a difference of opinion respecting Reve-
lation itself-,vhether given beside the human faculties
or through them, \vhether an interruption of the la,vs
of nature or their perfection and fulfilment.
This effort to pilll the authority of Scripture in
different directions is not peculiar to our own day;
the same phenomenon appears in the past history of
the Church. At the Reformation, in the Nicene or
Pelagian times, the Ne\v Testalnent was the ground
over ,vhich men fought; it nIight also be compared
to the armoury ,vhicll furnished them with weapons.
Opposite aspects of the truth which it contains were
appropriated by different sides. ' Justified by faith
,vithout ,yorks' and 'justified by faitll as ,veIl as ,yorks'
are equally Scriptural expressions; the one has become
the fornlula of Protestants, the other of Roman
Catholics. The fifth and ninth chapters of the
ROlnans, single verses such as I Corinthians iii. 15,
John iii. 3, still bear traces of many a life-long strife
in the pages of conlmentators. The difference of
interpretation which prevails anlong ourselves is partly
traditional, that is to say, inherited from the con-
troversies of foriner ages. The use nlade of Scripture
by Fathers of the Church, as well as by Luther and
Calvin, affects our idea of its meaning at the present
hour.
Another cause of the multitude of interpretation

is the gro\vth or progress of the hunlan Inind itself.

r odes of interpreting vary as time goes on; they
partake of the general state of literature or kno\vledge.
It has not been easily or at once that mankind have
learned to realize the character of sacred writings-
they seem alnlost necessarily to veil themselves fronl
human eyes as circumstances change; it is the old
age of the ,vorld only that has at length understood
its childhood. (Or rather perhaps is beginning to
understand it, and learning to 11lake allowance for its
o\vn deficiency of knowledge; for the infancy of the

332 On the Lzterpretation of Scripture.
human race, as of the individual, affords but fe\v
indications of the ,vorkings of the lnind within.)
More often than we suppose the great sayings and
doings upon tIle earth, 'thoughts that breathe and
,vords that burn,' are lost in a sort of chaos to the
apprehension of those that come after. Much of past
history is dilnly seen and receives only a conventional
interpretation, even when tIle memorials of it remain.
There is a time at which the freshness of early
literature is lost; mankind have turned rhetoricians,
and no longer write or feel in the spirit wIlich created
it. In this unimaginative period in which sacred
or ancient writings are partially unintelligible, many
Inethods have been taken at different times to adapt
the ideas of the past to the wants of the present.
One age has wandered into the flowery paths of
allegory,

, In pious meditation fancy fed.'

Another has straitened the liberty of the Gospel by a
rigid application of logic, the former being a method
which was at first rnore naturally applied to the Old
Testament, the latter to the New. Both methods of
interpretation, the mystical and logical, as they nlay
be termed, have been practised on the Vedas and the
ICoran, as well as on the Jewish and Christian Scrip-
tures, the true glory and note of divinity in these
latter being not that they have hidden mysterious
or double meanings, but a simple and universal one,
which is beyond them and will survive them. Since
tIle revival of literature, interpreters have not unfre-
quently fallen into error of another kind from a
pedantic and misplaced use of classical learning; the
minute examination of words often withdrawing the
mind from more important matters. A tendency may
be observed within the last century to clothe systen1s
of philosophy in the phraseology of Scripture. But
new wine cannot thus be put 'into old bottles.'

On the Interpretation of Scripture. 333
Though roughly distinguishable
y different ages,
these nlodes or tendencies also eXIst together; the
remains of all of them may be remarked in some of
the popular conlmentaries of our own day.
}Iore common than any of these methods, and not
peculiar to any age, is that ,vhich may be called by
,yay of distinction the rhetorical one. The tendency
to exaggerate or anlplify the mea
}.ing of simple ,v.ords
for the sake of edification may indeed have a practical
use in sermons, the object of ,vhirh is to a\vaken not
so nluch the intellect as the heart and conscience.
Spiritual food, like natural, may require to be of a
certain bulk to nourish the human mind. But this
, tendency to edification' has had an unfortunate
influence on the interpretation of Scripture. For the
preacher almost necessarily oversteps the linlits of
actual kno,yledge, his feelingsoverflo\v,vith the subject;
e,en if he have the po\ver, he has seldom the tinle for
accurate thought or inquiry. And in the course of years
spent in ,vriting, perhaps, ,vithout study, he is apt to per-
suade himself, if not others, of the truth of his o\vn
repetitions. The trivial consideration of making a
discourse of sufficient length is often a reason ,vhy he
overlays the ,vords of Christ and his Apostles ,vith
commonplaces. The meaning of the text is not
always the object ,vhich he has in view, but sonle
nloral or religious lesson ,vhich he has found it
I necessary to append to it; sonle cause which he is
, pleading, some error of the day ,vhich he has to com-
bat. And while in some passages he hardly dares to
trust himself ,vith the full force of Script,ure (ßlatthe,v
v. 34; ix. 13 ; xix. 2 I ; Acts v. 29), in others he extracts
more from ,yords than they really imply (l\Iatthe\v
I xxii. ZI; xxviii. 20; ROlnans xiii. I ; &c.), being more
eager to guard against the abuse of some precept than
to enforce it, attenuating or adapting the utterance of
prophecy to the requirenlents or to the nleasure of
nlodern tilnes. Anyone ,vho has ever written sermons

334 On tlte Interpretation oj ScriJ]ture.
is aware how hard it is to apply Scripture to the
,vants of his llearers and at the same time to preserve
its meaning.
The pllenomenon ,vhicll has been described in the
preceding pages is so familiar, and yet so extraordinary,
that it requires an effort of thought to appreciate its
true nature. 'Ve do not at once see the absurdity of
the same words having many senses, or free our minds
frolll the illusion that the Apostle or Evangelist must
have ,vritten with a reference to the creeds or con-
troversies or circumstances of other times. Let it be
considered, then, that this extrenle variety of interpre-
tation is found to exist in the case of no other book,
but of the Scriptures only. Other writings are pre-
served to us in dead languages-Greek, Latin, Oriental,
some of them in fragments, all of them originally in
manuscript. It is true that difficulties arise in the
explanation of these '\vritings, especially in the most
ancient, from our inlperfect acquaintance ,vith the
meaning of words, or the defectiveness of copies, or the
,vant of some historical or geographical information
'v hich is required to present an event or cllaracter in
its true bearing. In comparison with the wealth and
light of nlodern literature, our kno,vledge of Greek
classical authors, for example, may be called imperfect
and shadowy. Some of them have another sort of
difficulty arising frolD subtlety or abruptness in the
use of language; in lyric poetry especially, and some
of the earlier prose, the greatness of the thought
struggles with the stamnleril1g lips. It may be
observed that all these difficulties occur also in
Scripture; they are found equally in sacred and pro-
fane literature. But the meauing of classical authors
is known witll comparative certainty; and the inter-
pretation of thenl seems to rest 011 a scientific basis.
It is not, therefore, to philological or historical diffi-
culties that the greater part of the uncertainty in the
interpretation of Scripture is to be attributed. No

Olt the lJlte1]Jretatioll of Scripture. 335
ignorance of Hebre\v or Greek is sufficient to account
for it. Even the Vedas and the Zendavesta, though
beset by obscurities of language probably greater than
are found in any portion of the Bible, are interpreted,
at least by European scholars, according to fixed rules,
and beginning to be clearly understood.
To bring the parallel hOl11e, let us imagine the
remains of some well-kno\vn Greek author, as Plato
or Sophocles, receiving the same treatment at the
hands of the world \vhich the Scriptures have expe-
rieneed. The text of such an author, when first printed
by Aldus or Stephens, \vould be gathered frolTI the im-
perfect or n1iswritten copies which fell in the way of
the editors; after a\vhile older and better n1anuscripts
conle to light, and the po\ver of using and estimating
the value of n1anuscripts is greatly improved. We may
suppose, further, that the readings of these older copies
do not always confornî to sonîe received canons of
criticism. Up to the year 155 0 , or 1624, alterations,
often proceeding on no principle, have been introduced
into the text; but now a stand is made-an edition
I ,vhich appeared at tIle latter of the t,vo dates just
lllentioned is invested with aut,hority; this authorized
text is a pièce de resistance against innovation. Many
reasons are given ,vhy it is better to have bad readings
to ,vhich the world is accuston1ed than good ones
'v hich are novel and strange-why the later manu-
scripts of Plato or Sophocles are often to be preferred
to earlier ones-why it is useless to remove imperfec-
tions ,vhere perfect accuracy is not to be attained. A
fear of disturbing the critical canons which have come
down from former ages is, ho\vever, suspected to be
one reason for the opposition. And custom and pre-
judice, and the nicety of the subject, and all the argu-
ments \vhich are intelligible to the many against the
truth, which is intelligible only to the few, are thrown
into the scale to preserve the works of Plato or
Sophocles as nearly as possible in the received text.

336 Oil the Interpretation of Scripture.
Leaving the text we proceed to interpret and trans-
late. The meaning of Greek words is known ,vith
tolerable certainty; and the grammar of the Greek
language has been minutely analysed both in ancient
and modern times. Yet the interpretation of Sophocles
is tentative and uncertain; it seems to vary from age
to age: to some the great tragedian has appeared to
embody in his choruses certain theological or moral
ideas of his own age or country; there are others who
find there an allegory of the Christian religion or of
the history of modern Europe. Several schools of
critics have commented on his works; to the English-
man he has presented one nleaning, to the Frenchman
another, to the German a third; the interpretations
have also differed with the philosophical systems 'v hich
the interpreters espoused. To one the same words
have appeared to bear a moral, to another a symbolical
nleaning; a third is determined wholly by the
authority of old commentators; while there is a dis-
position to condelnn the scholar who seeks to interpret
Sophocles from himself only and with reference to the
ideas and beliefs of the age in which he lived. And
the error of such an one is attributed not only to son1e
intellectual but even to a moral obliquity ,vhich pre..
vents his seeing the true meaning.
It ,vouId be tedious to follo\v into details the absur-
dity which has been supposed. By such methods it
,vould be truly said that Sophocles or Plato nlay be
made to mean anything. It ,vould seem as if some
1'tOVlt?Jl Or!JaJlll
Jl ,vere needed to lay down rules of inter-
pretation for ancient literature. Still one other sup-
position has to be introduced which will appear,
perhaps, more extravagant than any ,vhich have pre-
ceded. Conceive then that these modes of interpreting
Sophocles had existed for ages; that great institutions
and interests had beconle inter\voven with thenl, and
in some degree even the honour of nations and churches
-is it too much to say tllat in such a case they would

On the Interpretation of Scripture. 337
be changed with difficulty, and that they would con-
tinue to be maintained long after critics and philoso-
phers had seen that t,hey were indefensible?
No one who has a Christian feeling would place
classical on a level with sacred literature; and there
are other particulars in which the preceding comparison
fails, as, for exalnple, the style and su bject. But, how-
ever different the subject, although the interpretation
of Scripture requires 'a vision and faculty divine,' or at
least a moral and religious interest\vhich is not needed in
the study of a Greek poet or philosopher, yet in what
may be termed the externals of interpretation, that is
to say, the meaning of words, the connexion of sen-
tences, the settlement of the text, the evidence of
facts, the same rules apply to the Old and Ne\y
Testaments as to other books. And the figure is no
exaggeration of the erring fancy of men in the use of
Scripture, or of the tenacity with \vhich they cling to
the interpretations of other times, or of the arguments
by which they maintain them. All the resources of
kno,vledge may be turned into a means not of dis-
covering the true rendering, but of upholding a
received one. Grammar appears to start from an
independent point of view, yet inquiries into the use
of the article or the preposition have been observed to
"rind round into a defence of some doctrine. Rhetoric
often n1agnifies its o,vn want of taste into the design
of inspiration. Logic (that other mode of rhetoric) is
, apt to lend itself to the illusion, by stating erroneous
explanations ,vitIl a clearness 'v hich is mistaken for
, truth. 'Metaphysical aid' carries away the common
understanding into a region where it must blindly
foIlo,v. Learning obscures as well as illustrates; it
heaps up chaff ,vhen there is no more ,vheat. These
are some of the ways in which the sense of Scripture
has become confused, by the help of tradition, in the
I course of ages, under a load of con1mentators.
'fhe book itself ren1ains as at the first unchanged
z

338 OIl the LlterpretatioJl of Scripture.
amid the changing interpretations of it. The office of
the interpreter is not to add another, but to recover
the original one; the nleaning, that is, of the words
as they first struck on the ears or flashed before the
eyes of those who heard and read theIne He has to
transfer hinlself to another age; to inlagine that he is
a disciple of Christ or Paul; to disengage himself frolll
all that follo\vs. r
rhe history of Christendom is nothing
to him; but only the scene at Galilee or Jerusalem,
the handful of believers \vho gathered thenlselves to-
gether at Ephesus, or Corinth, or Rome. His eye is
fixed on the form of one like the Son of nlan, or of the
prophet who \vas girded \vith a garment of canlel's
hair, or of the A postle \vho had a thorn in the flesh.
The greatness of the Ronlan Empire is nothing to
him; it is an inner not an outer world that he is
striving to restore. All the after-thoughts of t,heology
are nothing to llim; they are not the true lights
,vhich light him in difficult places. His concern is
with a book in which as in other ancient \vritings are
some things of \vhieh \ve are ignorant; which defect
of our knowledge cannot however be supplied by the
conjectures of fathers or divines. The sinlple \vords
of that book he tries to preserve absolutely pure fronl
the refinements or distinctions of later tinles. He
ackno\vledges that they are fragmentary, and would
suspect himself, if out of fragments he were able to
create a well-rounded system or a continuous history.
The greater part of his learning is a kno\vledge of the
text itself; he has no deligllt in the volunlinous lite-
rature \vhich has overgro\vn it. He has no theory of
interpretation; a few rules guarding against conlmon
errors are enough for hinl. His object is to read
Scripture like any other book, \vith a real interest and
not merely a conventional one. He wants to be able
to open his eyes and see or Í1nagine things as they
truly are.
Nothing ,vould be more likely to restore a natural
feeling on this subject than a history of the Interpre-

Oil the Illterp1'etatioJl oj ScriJjture. 339
tation of Scripture. It would take us back to the
beginning; it \;vould present in one view the causes
\vhich have darkened the n1eaning of words in the
course of ages; it \vould clear a\vay the relnains of
dogmas, systems, controversies, which are encrusted
upon thenl. It \vould show us the 'erring fancy' of
interpreters assun1ing sometimes to have the Spirit of
l10d Himself, yet unable to pass beyond the lin1its of
their own age, and with a judgment often biassed by
party, Great names there have been alTIOng then1,
names of men \vho may be reckoned also anlong the
benefactors of t,he hun1an race, yet con1paratively fe\v
\vho have understood the thoughts of other times, or
\vho have bent their lninds to 'interrogate' the mean-
ing of \vords, Such a \vork \vould enable us to separate
the elernents of doctrine and tradition with \vhich the
n1eaning of Scripture is enculllbered in our o\vn day.
It would ll1ark the different epochs of interpretation
frolll the time \vhen the living \vord was in process of
becolning a book to Origen and Tertullian, from
Origen to J erOll1e and Augustine, froll1 J er0111e and
Augustine to Abelard and Aquinas; again n1aking a
new beginning \vith the revival of literature, frou1
Erasmus, the father of Biblical criticisl1l in ll10re
recent titnes, \vith Calvin and Beza for his ill1n1ediate
successors, through Grotius and Hamlnond, do\vn to
De vVette and l\Teier, our o\vn contemporaries. vVe
should see ho\v the mystical interpretation of Scripture
originated in the Alexandrian age; how it blended
\vith the logical and rhetorical; ho\v both received
\veight and currency frolll their use in support of the
claims and teaching of the Church. 'Ve should notice
ho\v the 'new learning' of the fifteenth and sixteenth
centuries gradually a\vakened the critical faculty in
the study of the sacred \vritings; ho\v Biblical criticisnl.
has slo\vly but surely followed in the track of philo-
logical and historical (not \vithout a renloter influence
z 2

340 Oll the Interpretation of Scripture.
exercised upon it also by natural science); ho,v, too,
the form of the scholastic literature, and even of notes
on the classics, insen
ibly communicated itself to COID-
lnentaries on Scripture. 'Ve should see how the ,vord
inspiration, from being used in a general ,vay to ex-
press ,vhat may be called the prophetic spirit of
Scripture, has passed, ,vithin the last t,vo centuries,
into a sort of technical tern1; how, in other instances,
the practice or feeling of earlier ages has been hollo,ved I
out into the theory or system of later ones. 1Ve
should observe ho,v the popular explanations of pro-
phecyas in heathen (Thucyd. ii. 54),SO also in Christian
times, had adapted themselves to the circumstances of
mankind. We migllt ren1ark that in our o,vn country,
and in the present generation especially, the interpre-
tation of Scripture had assun1ed an apologetic character,
as though nlaking an effort to defend itself against
some supposed inroad of science and criticism; ,vhile
among German conlmentators there is, for the first
time in the history of the ,vorld, an approach to
agreement and certainty. For exanlple, the diversity
among German "\vriters on prophecy is far less than
among Englisll ones. That is a new phenomenon
,vhich has to be ackno,vledged. l\Iore than any other
subject of human kno,vledge, Biblical criticism has
hung to the past; it has been hitherto found truer to
the traditions of the Church than to the ,vords of
Christ. It has made, ho,vever, t,vo great steps
onward-at the tinle of the Reformation and in our
day. The diffusion of a critical spirit in history and
literature is affecting the criticisln of the Bible in our
o,vn day in a manner not unlike the burst of intellectual
life in the fifteenth or sixteenth centuries- Educated
persons are beginning to ask, not ,vhat Scripture n1ay
be made to mean, but what it does. And it is no
exaggeration to say that he who in the present state
ofkno,vledge will confine himself to the plain meaning
of words and the study of their context may know

Oil the LlterpretatioJl of ScrÏjJtltre. 341
more of the original spirit and intention of the authors
of the New rrestament than all the controversial
writers of former ages put together.
Such a history would be of great value to philosophy
as ,veIl as to theology. It would be the history of
the human mind in one of its lllost remarkable mani-
festations. For ages which are not original show
their character in the interpretation of ancient \vritings.
Creating nothing, and incapable of that effort of ima-
gination \vhich is required in a true criticism of the
past, they read and explain the thoughts of former
times by the conventional modes of their own. SUC}l
a history would fornl a kind of preface or prolegomena
to the study of Scripture. Like the history of science,
I it ,vould save many a useless toil; it would indicate
I the uncertainties on which it is not worth ,vhile to
I speculate further; the byepaths or labyrinths in ,vhich
men lose then1selves; the mines that are already
,vorked out. He who reflects on the multitude of ex-
planations \vhich already exist of the 'nulnber of the
beast,' 'the two witnesses,' 'the little horn,' 'the man
of sin,' who observes the manner in which these ex-
planations have varied with the political n10vements
of our own time, ,viII be un,villing to devote himself
to a method of inquiry in \vhich there is so little ap-
pearance of certainty or progress. These interpreta-
tions would destroy one another if they were all placed
side by side in a tabular analysis. It is an instructive
fact, which n1ay be mentioned in passing, that Joseph
1Iede, the greatest authority on this subject, twice
fixed the end of the world in the last century and once
during his o\vn lifetime. In like manner, he ,vho
notices the circumstance that the explanations of the
first chapter of Genesis have slo,vly changed, and, as
it were, retreated before the advance of geology, \vill
be unwilling to add another to the spurious reconcile-
ments of science and. revelation. Or t.o take an
example of another kind, the Protestant divine ,vho

342 On the Interpretation of Scripture.
perceives that the types and figures of the Old Testa-
1l1ent are employed by Roman Catholics in support of
the tenets of their church, ,viII be careful not to use
weapons "vhicl1 it is impossible t,o guide, and which
may ,vith equal force be turned against himself. Those
who have handled thern on the Protestant side have
before now fallen victims to then), not observing as
they fell that it was by their own hand.
l\Iuch of the uncertainty which prevails in the I
interpretation of Scripture arises out of party efforts
to ,vrest its meaning to different sides. There are,
however, deeper reasons \vhicll have l1indered the
natural meaning of the text from immediately and
universally prevailing. One of these is the unsettle-
ment of n1any questions ,vhich have an important but
indirect bearing on this subject. Son1e of these ques-
tions veil themselves in anlbiguous terms; and no one
likes to dra,v them out of their hiding-place into the
light of day. In natural science it is felt to be useless
to build on assumptions; in history ,ve look with sus-
picion on a jJriori ideas of ,vhat ought to have been;
in mathematics, wIlen a step is \vrong, ,ve pull the
house down until \ve reach the point at ,vhich the
error is discovered. But in theology it is otherwise;
there the tendency has been to conceal the unsound-
ness of the foundation under t.he fairness and loftiness
of the superstructure. It has been thought safer to
allow arguments to stand which, although fallacious,
have been on the right side, than to point out their
defect. And thus many principles have imperceptibly
grown up which have overridden facts. No one
would interpret Scripture, as 111allY do, but for certain
previous suppositions witll which \ve con Ie to the
perusal of it. 'There can be no error in the Word
of God,' therefore the discrepancies in the books of
Kings and Chronicles are only apparent, or may be
attributed to differences in the copies. ' It is a thou-
sand times Inore likely that the interpreter should ert

Oil thr Llterpretalioll of Scr[plure. 3-13
than the inspired \vriter.' For a like reason the failure
of a prophecy is never adn1itted, in spite of Scripture
and of history (J er. xxxvi. 30; Isai. xxiii.; Alnos vii.
10-17); the mention of a nan1e later than the sup-
posed age of the prophet is not allo,ved, as in other
writings, to be taken in evidence of the date (Isaiah
xlv. T). The accuracy of the Old Testan1ent is mea-
sured not by the standard of prinleval history, but of
a modern critical one, ,vhich, contrary to all probability,
is supposed to be attained; this arbitrary standard
once assumed, it becomes a point of honour or of faith
to defend every name, date, place, ,vhich occurs. Or
to take another class of questions, it is said that c the
various theories of the origin of the three first Gospels
are all equally unkno,vn to the Holy Catholic Church,'
or as another ,vriter of a different school expresses
himself, 'they tend to sap the inspiration of the New
Testanlent.' Again, the language in which our Saviour
speaks of his o\vn union ,vith the Father is interpreted
by the language of the creeds. Those ,vho renlonst,rate
against double senses, allegorical interpretations, forced
reconcileulents, find theulselves n1et by a sort of pre-
Bupposition that 'God speaks not as Ulan speaks.'
The limitation of the hU111an faculties is confusedly
appealed to as a reason for abstaining from investiga-
tions which are quite ,vithin their linlits. The sus-
picion of Deisn1, or perhaps of Atheism, a,vaits in-
quiry. By such fears a good Ulan refuses to be in-
fluenced, a philosophical mind is apt to cast them aside
v.yith too 111uch bitterness. It is better to close the
book than to read it under conditions of thought \yhich
are inlposed from \v-ithout. 'Vhether t40se conditions
of thought are the traditions of the Church, or the
opinions of the religious world-Catholic or Prot stant
-n1akes no difference. They are inconsistent with
the freedom of the truth and the nloral character of
the Gospel. It becomes necessary, therefore, to exa-

.

344 On the Interpretat-ion of Scripture.
mine briefly some of these prior questions which lie
in the way of a reasonable criticism.

2.
Among these previous questions, that which first
presents itself is the one already alluded to-the
question of inspiration. AllTIOst all Christians agree
in the word, which use and tradition have consecrated
to express the reverence which they truly feel for the
Old and New Testaments. But here the agreement of
opinion ends; the Dleaning of inspiration has been
variously explained, or more often passed over in
silence from a fear of stirring the difficulties that
would arise about it. It is one oÏ those theological
terms which may be regarded as 'great peacemakers,'
but whicll are also sources of distrust and nlisunder-
standing. For while we are ready to shake hands
\vitIl anyone who uses the same language as ourselves,
a doubt is apt to insinuate itself \vhether he takes
language in the sanle senses-,vhether a particular
ternl conveys all the associations to another which it
does to ourselves-whether it is not possible that one
who disagrees about the word may not be more nearly
agreed about the thing. The advice has, indeed, been
given to the theologian that he 'should take care of
words and leave things to themselves ;' the authority,
however, who gives the advice is not good-it is placed
by Goethe in the lllouth of J.\tlephistopheles. Pascal
seriously charges the Jesuits \vith acting on a similar
maxim-excommunicating those who meant the same
thing and said another, holding conlmunion with
those who said the same thing and meant another.
But this is not the way to heal the wounds of the
Church of Christ; we cannot thus C skin and film' the
weak places of theology. Errors about words, and
tIle attribution to ,vords themselves of an excessive
importance, lie at the roo
of theological as of other
confusions. In theology they are more dangerou

O'll the Interpretatioll of Scripture. 345
than in other sciences, because they cannot so readily
be brought to the test of facts.
The word inspiration has received more numerous
gradations and distinctions of meaning than perhaps
any other in the whole of theology. There is an inspi-
ration of superintendence and an inspiration of sug-
gestion; an inspiration which would have been
consistent '\vith the Apostle or Evangelist falling
into error, and an inspiration ,vhich ,vould have
prevented him from erring; verbal organic inspi-
ration by "rhich the inspired person is the passive
utterer of a Divine Word, and an inspiration which
acts through the character of the sacred writer; there
is an inspiration which absolutely communicates the
fact to be revealed or statelnent to be made, and an
inspiration which does not supersede the ordinary
kno\vledge of human events; there is an inspiration
,vhich demands infallibility in matters of doctrine,
but allo,vs for mistakes in fact. Lastly, there is a
vie\v of inspiration \vhich recognises only its super-
natural and prophetic character, and a vie,v of inspi-
ration ,vhich regards the Apostles and Evangelists as
equally inspired in their ,vritings and in their lives,
and in both receiving the guidance of the Spirit of
truth in a manner not different in kind but only in
degree from ordinary Christians. 1Iany of these ex-
planations lose sight of the original meaning and de-
rivation of the word; some of them are framed ,vith the
view of meeting difficulties; all perhaps err in attempt-
ing to define "\vhat, though real, is incapable of being
defined in an exact manner. N or for any of the
higher or supernatural vie\vs of inspiration is there
any foundation in the Gospels or Epistles. 11here is
no appearance in their ,yritings that the Evangelists
or Apostles had any inward gift, or ,vere subject
to any power external to them different from that
of preaching or teaching which they daily exercised;
nor do they any\vhere lead us to suppose that they
were free from error or infirmity. St. Paul writes

346 Oll the Dlterpretation of ScrijJture.
like a Christian teacher, exhibiting all the emotions
and vicissitudes of human feeling, speaking, indeed,
,vith authority, but hesitating in difficult cases and
more than once correcting himself, corrected, too, by
the course of events in his expectation of the conling
of Christ. The Evangelist 'who sa\y it, bare record,
and his record is true: and he kno\veth that he saith
true' (John xix. 35). Another Evangelist does not
profess to be an original narrator, but only 'to set
forth in order a declaration of \vhat eye-witnesses had
delivered,' like n1any others \vhose writings have not
been preserved to us (Luke i. I, 2). And the result is
in accordance witl1 the simple profession and style in
\vhich they describe themselves; there is no a.ppear-
ance, that is to say, of insincerity or want of faith;
but neither is there perfect accuracy or agreement.
One supposes the original dwelling-place of our Lord's
parents to have been Bethlehenl (l\Iatthe\v ii. I, 22),
another Nazareth (Luke ii. 4) ; they trace his genealogy
in different ways; one lI1entions the tllieves blas-
pheming, another has preserved to after-ages the
record of the penitent thief; they appear to difler
about the day and hour of the Crucifixion; the
narrative of the ,voman who anointed our Lord's feet
wit}l ointnlent is told in all four, each narrative having
more or less considerable variations. These are a fe\v
instances of the differences which arose in the tra-
ditions of the earliest ages respecting the history of
our Lord. But he \vho wishes to investigate the
character of the sacred writings should not be afraid
to make a catalogue of thenl alì \vith the vie\v of
estilnating their cunlulative weight. (For it is obvious
that the ans,ver which \vould be admitted in the case
of a single discrepancy, ,viII not be the true answer
when there are many.) He should further consider that
the narratives in which these discrepancies occur are
short and partly identical-a cycle of tradition beyond
which the kno,vledge of the early fathers never travels,
though if all the things that Jesus said and did had

Oil tlte Lzterpretation of Scriptllre. 347
been written down, 'the ,vorlcl itself could not bave con-
tained the books that ,vould have been ,vritten' (John
xx. 30; xxi. 25). For the proportion which these.
narratives bear to the whole subject, as well as their
relation to one another, is an important elenlent in the
estinlation of differences. In the saIne way, he ,vho
would understand the nature of prophecy in the Old
Testanlent, should have the courage to examine how
far its details ,yere Ininutely fulfilled. The absence
of such a fulfilnlent may further lead hiln to discover
that he took the letter for the spirit in expecting it.
The subject ,vill clear of itself if \ve bear in mind
t\VO considerations:- First, that the nature of inspi-
ration can only be kno\vn from the exanlÌnation of
Scripture. There is no other source to ,vhich ,ve can
turn for infornlation; and ,ve have no right to assunle
some imaginary doctrine of inspiration like the
infallibility of the Roman Catholic Church. To the
question, "Vhat is inspiration?' the first ans,ver there-
fore is, 'That idea of Scripture \vhich \ve gather from
the kno\vledge of it.' It is no nlere a priori notion,
but one to \vhich the book is itself a '\vitness. It is a
fact \vhich we infer from the study of Scripture-not
of one portion only, but of the ,yhole. Obviously then
it elnhraces \vritings of very different kinds-the book
of Esther, for example, or the Song of Solomon, as \vell
as the Gospel of St. John. It is reconcileable with
the mixed good and evil of the characters of the Old
Testalnent, \vhich nevertheless does not exclude them
from the favour of God, with the attribution to the
Divine Being of actions at variance \vith that higher
revelation, \vhich he has given of himself in the Gospel;
it is not inconsistent ,yith inlperfect or opposite aspects
of the truth as in the book of Job or Ecclesiastes,
with variations of fact in the Gospel8 or the books of
Kings and Chronicles, with inaccuracies of language in
the Epistles of St. Paul. For these are all found in
Scripture; neither is there any reason ,vhy they should

ot be, except a general impression that Scripture

348 Oll the Interpretation oj Scripture.
ought to have been written in a way different from
what it has. A principle of progressive revelation
admits them all; and this is already contained in the
words of our Saviour, 'Moses because of the hardness
of your hearts;' or even in the Old Testament, 'Hence-
forth there shall be 110 nlore this proverb in the house
of Israel.' For ,vhat is progressive is necessarily im-
perfect in its earlier stages, and even erring to those
,vho come after, whether it be the maxims of a half-
civilized ,vorld ,vhich are compared ,vith those of a
civilized one, or the la,v ,vith the Gospel. Scripture
itself points the ,yay to ans,ver tIle moral objections to
Scripture. Lesser difficulties remain, but only such as
,vould be found conlInonly in writings of the same age
or country. There is 110 nlore reason why imperfect
narratives should be excluded from Scripture than
inlperfect grammar; no more ground for expecting
that the N e,vTestament ,vould be logical or Aristotelian
in form, than that it would be written in Attic Greek.
The other consideration is one ,vhich has been
neglected by ,vriters on this subject. It is this-
that any tru'e doctrine of inspiration mast conform to
all well-ascertained facts of history or of science.
The same faè
cannot be true and untrue, any more
than the same ,vords can have t,vo opposite meanings.
The same fact cannot be true in religion when seen
by the ligllt of faith, and untrue in science ,vllen looked
at through the medium of evidence or experiment.
It is ridiculous to suppose that the sun goes round the
earth in the same sense in ,vhich the earth goes round
the sun; or that the ,vorld appears to Ilave existed,
but has not exist/ed during the vast epochs of ,vhich
geology speaks to us. But if so, there is 110 need of
elaborate reconcilements of revelation and science;
they reconcile themselves the nlOlnent any scientific
truth is distinctly ascertained. As the idea of nature
enlarges, the idea of revelation also enlarges; it ,vas
a ten1porary misunderstanding ,vhich severrd them.
And as the knowledge of nature which is possessed by

Oil the LlterpretatioÎl of Scripture. 349
the fe,v is con1municated in its leading features at
least to the many, they ,viII receive ,vith it a higher
conception of the ,vars of God to man. It may
hereafter appear as natural to the 11lajority of mankind
to see the providence of God in the order of the ,vorld,
as it once ,vas to appeal to interruptions of it.
It is true that there are a class of scientific facts
",.ith which popular opinions on theology often con-
flict which do not seem to conform in all respects to
the severer conditions of inductive science: such
especially are the facts relating to the fornlation of
the earth and the beginnings of the hun1an race. But
it is not worth ,vhile to fight on this debateable ground
a losing battle in the hope that a generation will pass
a,vay before we sound a last retreat. Almost all intel-
ligent persons are agreed that the earth has existed
for myriads of ages; the best informed are of opinion
that the history of nations extends back some thousand
years before the
rosaic chronology; recent discoveries in
geology n1ay perhaps open a further vista of existence
for the hunlan species, ,vhile it is possible, and may
one day be kno,vn, that mankind spread not from one
but from nlany centres over the globe; òr as others
say, that the supply of links ,vhich ai"è at present
w'anting in the chain of animal life may lead to ne,v
conclusions respecting the origin of man. N O\V
let it be granted that these facts, being with the
past, cannot be sho,vn in the san1e palpable and evident
nlanner as the facts of chelnistry or physiology; and
that the proof of some of thelTI , especially of those last
nlentioned, is "ranting; still it is a false policy to set
up inspiration or revelation in opposition to then1, a
principle ,vhich can have no influence on theln and
should be rather kept out of t,heir ,yay. The sciences
of geology and con1parative philology are steadily gain-
ing ground (many of the guesses of t,venty years ago
have become certainties, and the guesses of to-day may
hereafter become so). Shall ,ve peril religion on the
possibility of their untruth? on such a cast to stake

350 OIL the Interpretatioll of ScriJ}fure.
the life of man implies not only a recklessness of facts
but a misunderstanding of the nature of the Gospel.
If it is fortunate for science, it is perhaps lTIOre for-
tunate for Christian truth, that the admission of Gali-
leo's discovery has for ever settled the principle of the
relations bet,veen thenl.
A similar train of thought nlay be extended to the
results of historical inquiries. These results can-
not be barred by the dates or narrative of Scripture;
neitller should they..be nlade to ,vind round into agree.
ment with them. Again, the idea of inspiration must
expand and take them in.
eheir importance in a
religious point of view is not that they impugn or
confirnl the Jewish history, but that they show more
clearly the purposes of God towards th,e whole human
race. The recent chronological discoveries from
Egyptian monuments do not tend to overthrow re-
velation, nor the Ninevite inscriptions to support it.
The use of them on either side may indeed arouse a
popular interest in them; it is apt to turn a scientific
inquiry into a semi-religious controversy. And to
religion either use is almost equally injurious, because
seeming to rest truths inlportant to human life on the
nlere accident of an arcllæological discovery. Is it to
be thought that Christianity gains anything from the
decipllering of the names of some Assyrian and Ba-
bylonian kingR, contenlporaries chiefly \vith the later
J e\visll history? As little as it ought to lose fronl the
appearance of a contradictory narrative of the Exodus
in the chamber of an Egyptian tenlple of the year
B C. 1500. This latter supposition nlay not be very
probable. But it is \vorth \vhile to ask ourselves the
question whether we can be right in nlaintaining any
view of religion \v hicll can be affected by such a pro-
bability.
I t will be a further assistance in the consideration
of this subject, to observe that the interpretation of
Scripture has nothing to do with any opinion respect-
ing its origin. The nleaning of Scripture is one

On the Llterpretatioll oj Scrz.plure. 351
thing; the inspiration of Scripture is another. It is
conceivable that those ,vho hold the most different
vie,vs about the one, may be able to agree about the
other. Rigid upholders of the verbal inspiration of
Scripture, and those ,vho deny inspiration altogether,
may nevertheless meet on the common ground of the
lueaning of ,vords. If the term inspiration were to
fall into disuse, no fact of nature, or history, or lan-
guage, no event in the life of mëln, or dealings of God
\vith him, would be in any degree altered. rrhe word
itself is but of yesterday, not found in the earlier
confessions of the reforn1ed faith; the difficulties that
have arisen about it are only t,yO or three centuries
old. Therefore the question of inspiration, though
in one sense in1portant, is to the interpreter as though
I it \vere not important; he is in no ,yay called upon to
determine a matter with which he has nothing to do,
and ,vhich was not detern1ined by fathers of the
Church. And he had better go on his ,vay and leave the
more precise definition of the ,vord to the progress of
kno,vledge and the results of the study of Scripture,
instead of entangling himself ,vi h a theory about it.
It is one evil of conditions or previous suppositions
in the study of Scripture that the assulnption of them
has led to an apologetic temper in the interpreters of
I Scripture. The tone of apology is always a tone of
, weakness and does injury to a good cause. It is the
I reverse of 'ye shall kno\v the truth, and the truth
shall make you free.' It is han1pered with the neces-
sity of making a defence, and also \vith previous de-
fences of the same side; it accepts, ,vith an excess of
reserve and caution, the truth itself, when it comes
from an opposite quarter. Commentators are often
more occupied with the proof of luiracles than ,vith
the declaration of life and in1n1ortality; ,vith the ful-
filment of the details of prophecy than with its life
and po,ver; with the reconcilement of the discrepan-
cies in the narrative of the infancy, pointed out by
Schleiermacher, than \vith the in1portance of the great

352 On the Interpretation of Scripture.
event of the appe'arance of the Saviour. 'To this end
was I born and for this cause CaJJle I into the wOTld that I
should bear witness unto the truth.' The same tendency is
observable also in reference to the Act
of the Apostles
and tIle Epistles, which are not only brougllt into
}larmony wifh each other, but interpreted with a re-
ference to the traditions of existing con1nluniolls.
The natural meaning of particular expressions, as for
exanlple: "Vhy are they then baptized for the dead'
(I Corinthians XV.-29)? or the ,vords 'because of the
angels' (I Corinthians xi. 10); or, 'tllis generation
shall not pass away until all these things be fulfilled'
(Matthe\v xxiv. 34); or, 'upon this rock ,viII I build I
my Church (l\Iatthew xvi. 18), is set aside in favour
of others, ,vIlich, ho\vever in1probable, are more in
accordance ,vith preconceived opinions, or seem to be
more worthy of the Sacred writers. The langua.ge,
and also the text, are treated on the sanle defensive
and conservative principles. The received translations
of Philippians ii. 6 (' 'Vho, being in the form of God,
thought it not robbery to be equal with God'), or
of Romans iii. 25 (' Whom God hath set forth to
be a propitiation through faith in his blood'), or
Romans xv. 6 (' God, even the Father of our Lord
Jesus Christ'), thougll erroneous, are not given up
,vithout a struggle; the I Timothy iii. 16, and
I John v. 7, (the tIlree witnesses), though the first
(God manifest in the flesh, 8
for O
) is not found
in the best manuscripts, and the second in no Greek
manuscript "Torth speaking of, have not yet disappeared
from the editions of the Greek Testanlent commonly
in use in England, and still less from the English
translation. An Eng]ish commentator ,vho, with
Lachman and Tischendorf, supported also by the
authority of Erasnlus, ventures to alter the punctua-
tion of the doxology in Romans ix. 5 (' "\Vho is over
all God blessed for ever') hardly escapes the charge of
heresy. That in most of these cases the ,vords re-
ferred to have a direct bearing on important contro-

On the Interprelatz.oJl of Scripture. 33=3

versies is a reason not for retaining, but for correcting
them.
The temper of accommodation sho\vs itself especially
in two ,vays: first, in the attempt to adapt the truths
of Scripture to the doctrines of the creeds; secondly,
in the adaptation of the precepts and maxilllS of
Scripture to the language or practice of our o\vn age.
N o\V the creeds are ackno\vledged to be a part of
Christianity; they stand in a close relation to the
words of Christ and his Apostles; nor can it be said
that any heterodox forlllula makes a nearer approach
to a sinlple and scriptural rule of faith. N either is
anything gained by contrasting them ,vith Scripture,
in whicll the germs of the expressions used in them
are sufficiently apparent. Yet it does not follo,v that
they should be pressed into the service of the inter-
preter. The gro,vth of ideas in the interval ,vhich
separated tIle first century from the fourth or sixth
makes it impossible to apply t.he language of the one
to the explanation of the other. Between Scripture
and the Nicene or Athanasian Creed, a ,vorlcl of the
understanding COllles in-that ,vorld of abstractions
and second notions; and nlankind are no longer at
the same point as when the ,vhole of Christianity ,vas
contained in the ,vords, C Believe on the I.iord Jesus
Christ and thou nlayest be saved,' ,vhen the Gospel
centred in the attachnlent to a living or recently de-
parted friend and Lord. The language of the N e\\T
'festanlent is the first utterance and consciousness of
the mind of Christ; or the imnlediate vision of the
'V ord of life (I John i. I) as it preç;ented itself before
the eyes of his first followers, or as the sense of his
truth and po\ver gre\v upon thenl (R.omans i. 3, 4) ;
the other is the result of three or four centuries of
reflection and eontroversy. And although this last
had a truth suited to its age, and its tecllnical expres-
sions have sunk deep into the heart of the hunlêul race,
it is not the less unfitted to be the nlediuID by the
A A

354 Oil the Lzterpretatioll of Scripture.
help of wllich Scripture is to be explained. If the
oecurrence of the phraseology of the Nicene age in a
verse of the Epistles ,vould detect the spuriousness
of the verse in ,vhicll it ,vas found, how can the
Nicene or Athanasian Creed be a suitable instru-
ment for the interpretation of Scripture? That ad-
vantage which the N e\v r
restalllent has over the
teaching of the CIlurch, as representing what lnay be
termed the childhood of the Go
pel, ,vouId be lost if
its language ,vere required to confornl to that of the
Creeds.
To attribute to St. Paul or the 'l\velve the abstract
notion of Christian truth ,vhich after\vards sprang up in
the Catholic Church, is the same sort of anachronisn1 as
to attribute to then1 a systen1 of philosophy. It is the
same error as to attribute to HOlller the ideas of Thales
or Heraclitus, or to Thales the lllore developed prin-
ciples of Aristotle and Plato. 1\Ial1Y persons ,vho
have no difficulty in tracing the gro,vtll of institutions,
yet seem to fail in recognising the more subtle pro.
gress of an idea. It is hard to imagine the absence of
conceptions \vith ,vhich \Y"e are fanliliar; to go back to
the germ of \vhat \ve kno\v only in nlaturity; to give
up \vhat has gro,vn to us, and beconle a part of our
minds. In the present case ho,vever the develop-
nlent is not difficult to prove. The statenlCl1 ts of
Scripture are unaccountable if ,ve deny it; the silence
of Scripture is equally unaccountable. Absorbed as
St. Paul ,vas in the person of Chri
t ,yith an intensity
of faith and love of which in lllodern days and at this
distance of time \ve can scarcely form a conception-
high as he raised the dignity of his Lord above all
things in heaven and earth-looking to him as the
Creator of all things, and the head of quick and dead,
he does not speak of hilll as 'equal to the Father,' or 'of
one substance with the Father.' l\luch of the language
of tIle Epist.les (passages for exam pIe such as Romans
i. 2 ; Philippians ii. 6) ,vould lose their meaning if distri-

0,1 the Interpretation of ScrÏjJlure. 355
buted in alternate clauses bet\veen our Lord's humanity
and divinity. Still greater difficulties would be intro-
duced into the Gospels by the attempt to identify thenl
with the Creeds. \Ve should have to suppose that
He was and was not tenlpted; that ,vhen he prayed
to his Father he prayed also to Himself; that He
kne\y and did not kno\\T , of that hour' of \vhich He as
,veIl as the angels ,vere ignorant. Ho\v could He have
said' :ThIy God, DIY God, why hast thou forsaken nle?'
or ' Father, if it be possible let this cup pass froll1 111e.'
Ho,v could He have doubted ,vhether ''v hen the Son
cometh he shall find faith upon the earth?' l'hese
simple and touching ,yords have to be taken out of
their natural nleaning and connexion to be made the
theIne of apologetic discourses if ,ve insist on recon-
ciling then1 \vith the distinctions of later ages.
Neither, as has been already remarked, ,vouid the
substitution of any other precise or definite rule of
faith, as for exalnple the Unitarian, be nlore favourable
to the interpretation of Scripture. How could the
Evangelist St. John have said 'the "\V ord ,vas God,'
or 'God ,vas the 'V ord' (according to either n10de of
translating), or ho\v would our Lord Himself have

aid, 'I and the Father are one,' if either had nIeant that
Christ ,vas a mere nIan, 'a prophet or as one of the
prophets ?' No one ,vho takes ,vords in their natural
sense can suppose that 'in the beginning' (John i. 1)
llleans 'at the COllll1lenCenlent of the nIinistry of Christ,'
or that' the 'V ord ,vas ,vith God,' only relates' to the
,vithdra,val of Christ to conlmune ,vith God,' or
that 'the ,V ord is said to be God,' in the ironical
sen
e of John x. 35. But 'v hile venturing to turn one
eye on these (perhaps 0 1solete) peryersions of the
nleanings of ,vords in old opponents, ,ve nIust not
forget also to keep the other open to our o,vn. The
object of the preceding remark is not to enter into
controversy ,vith then1, or to balance the statelnent
of
one side \vith those of the other, but only to pointout the
A A :2

.

336 Oll the LlterpretatioJl of Scripture.
error of introducing into tIle interpretation of Scripture
the notions of a later age \vhich is common alike to us
and them.
The other kind of accon1lnoaation which ,vas alluded
to above arises out of the difference bet,veen the social
and ecclesiastical state of the ,vorld, as it exists in
actual fact, and the ideal ,vhich the Gospel presents to
us. An ideal is, by its very nature, far ren10ved froITI
actual life. It is enshrined not in the lnaterial things
of the external \yorld, but in the heart and conscience.
l\'Iankind are dissatisfied at this separation; they
fancy that they can make the in,vard kingdom an
out\vard one also. But this is not possible. The
frame of civilization, that is to say, institutions and
laws, the usages of business, the custon1S of society,
these are for the most part n1echanical, capable only
in a certain degree of a higher and spiritual life.
Christian n10tives have never existed in such strength,
as to TIlake it
afe or possible to entrust then1 ,vith the
preservation of social order. Other interests are
therefore provided and otller principles, often inde-
pendent of the teaching of the Gospel, or even
apparently at variance \vith it. ' If a Ulan snlite thee
on the right clleek turn to him the oiher also,' is not
a regulation of police but an ideal rule of conduct, not
to be explained away, but rarely if e\Ter to be literally
acted upon in a civilized country; or rather to be acted
upon al\vays in spirit, yet not without a reference to
the interests of the community. If a n1issionary \vere
to endanger the public peace and come like the Apostles
saying, 'I ought to obey God rather than man,' it is
obvious that the n10st Christian of n1agistrates could
not allo,v hiln (say in India or N e,v Zealand) to shield
hin1self under the authority of these ,vords. For in
religion as in philosophy there are two opposite poles;
of truth and action, of doctrine and practice, of idea
and fact. The image of God in Christ is over against
the necessities of human nature and the state of man

OJl the Interpretation of Scrz.plllre. 357
on earth. Our Lord himself recognises thi:s distinction,
when he says, 'Of whom do the kings of the earth
gather tribute?' and 'then are the children free.'
(l\Iatth. xvii. 26.) And again, 'N ot,vithstanding lest
we should offend them,' &c. Here are contrasted
,vhat Inay be ternled the two poles of idea and fact.
All men appeal to Scripture, and desire to dra\v the
authority of Scripture to their side; its voice may be
heard in the turmoil of political strife; a merely
verbal similarity, the echo of a ,vord, has weight in
the determination of a controversy" Such appeals are
not to be met always by counter-appeals; they rather
lead to the con
ideratioll of deeper questions as to the
nlanner in which Scripture is to be applied. In what
relation does it stand to actual life? Is it a law, or
only a spirit? for nations, or for individuals? to be
enforced generally, or in details also? Are its maxims
to be nlodified by experience, or acted upon in defiance
of experience? Are the accidental circumstances of
the first believers to becolne a rule for us ? Is every-
thing, in short, done or said by our Saviour and His
Apostles, to be regarded as a precept or example which
is to be follo\ved on an occasions and to last for all
time? That can hardly be, consistently with the
changes of human things. It ,vonId be a rigid skeleton
of Christianity (not the in1age of Christ), to whicl1
society and politics, as ,veIl as the lives of individuals,
,vonld be conformed. It would be the oldness of
the letter, on ,vhich the ,vorld ,vould be stretched;
not' the law of the spirit of life' 'v hich St. Paul teaches.
The at,tempt to force politics and la,v into the frame-
work of religion is apt to drive us up into a corner,
in which the great principles of truth and justice
have no longer room to make themselves felt. It
is better, as wen as safer, to take the liberty witll
\vhich Christ has made us free. For our Lord him.
self has left behind Him words, which contain a
principlp large enough to admit all the forms of

358 Oll the IJlterjJrelation of SCTipture.
society or of life; 'l\f Y kingdom is not of this ,vorld.'
(J olin x\Tiii. 36.) It does not come into collision
,vith politics or kno\vledge; it has nothing to do with
the Roman government or the Jewish priesthood, or
,yith corresponding institutions in the present day;
it is a counsel of perfection, and has its dwelling-place
in the heart of man. That is the real solution of
questions of Church and State; all else is relative to
the history or circulnstallces of particular nations.
1'hat is the answer to a doubt ,vhich is also raised
respecting the obligatioll of the letter of the Gospel
on individual Christians. But this in,vardness of the
,vords of Christ is \vhat few are able to receive; it is
easier to apply them superficially to things witllout,
than to be a part.aker of them fronl \vithin. And false
and nliserable appli
ations of them are often nlade,
and the kingdom of God becomes the tùol of the
kingdolns of the world.
'l1he neglect of this necessary contrast bet\veen the
ideal and the actual has had a t\vofold effect on the
Interpretation of Scripture. It has led to an unfair
appropriation of some portions of Scripture and an
undue neglect of otllers. The letter is in many cases
really or apparently in harmony with existing
practices,. or opinions, or institutions. In other
cases it is far rellloved from them; it often seems
as if the ,vorld \vould come to an end before the
,vords of Scripture could be realized. The t\vofold
effect just no,v mentioned, corresponds to these t\VO
classes. SOlne texts of Scripture have been eagerly
appealed to and made (in one sense) too much of;
they have been taken by force into the service of
recei ved opinions and beliefs; texts of the other class
Ilave been either unnoticed or eXplained away. Con-
sider, for example, the extraordinary and unreasonable
ilnportance attached to single ,vords, sometimes of
doubtful meaning, in reference to any of the following
subjects:-l, Divorce; z,1\Iarriage ,vith a 'Vife's Sist.er j

OIl the Interpretation of Scripture. 339
3, Inspiration; 4, the Personality of the IIoIy Spirit;
5, Infant Baptism; 6, Episcopacy; 7, Diyine Hight of
Kings; 8, Original Sin. There is, indeed, a kind of
111ystery in the ''lay in which the chance ,vords of a
silllple narrative, the occurrence of S01l1e accidental
event, the use even of a figure of speech, or a mis-
translation of a ,vord in Latin or English, have affected
the thoughts of future ages and distant countries.
Nothing so slight that it has not been caught at;
nothing so plain that it 111ay not be eXplained a\vay.
1Vhat n1en have brought to the text they have also
found there; ,vhat has received no interpretation or
,vitness, either in the customs of the Church or in ' the
thoughts of many hearts,' is still' an unknown tongue'
to them. It is with Scripture as with oratory, its
effect partly depends on the preparation in the mind
or in circumstances for the reception of it. There is
no use of Scripture, no quotation or even misquotation
of a ,vord \vhich is not a power in the ,vorld, ,vhen it
en1bodies the spirit of a great n10vement or is echoed
by the voice of a large party.
On the first of the subjects referred to above, it is
argued from Scripture that adulterers should not be
allowed to marry again; and the point of the argu-
n1ent turns on the question \vhether the ,vords (fKTÒC;
Àóyov 7ropvdac;) saving for the caus
of fornication, \vhich
occur in the first clause of an i1l1portant text on mar-
riage, were designedly or accidentally on1itted in the
second (l\Iatth. v. 32.) '1Vhosoever shall put away his
\vife, saving for the cause of fornication, causeth her to
commit adultery, and whosoever Rhall marry her that
is divorced committeth adultery;' compare also 1\iark
x. ] I, 12). 2. The Scripture argument in the second
instance is almost invisible, being dra\vn from a pas-
sage the meaning of ,vhich is irrelevant (Lev. xviii.
18. 'Neither shalt thou take a wife to her sister
to vex her, to uncover her nakedness beside the other
in her lifetime '); and transferred from the Polygamy

360 Oil the interpretation of Scripture.
which prevailed in Eastern countries 3000 years ago
to the J\Ionogan1Y of the nineteenth century and the
Christian Church, in spite of the custon1 and tradition
of the Je,vs and the analogy of the brother's widow.
3. In the third case the word ((J
Ó1TVfV(J'TOÇ) 'given by
inspiration of God' is spoken of the Old Testament,
and is assunled to apply to the New, including that
Epistle in which the expression occurs (2 Tinl. iii. 16.)
4. In the fourth exanlple the ''lords used are mys-
terious (John xiv. 26; xvi. (5), and seem to come out
of the depths of a divine consciousness; they have
son1etimes, however, received a more exact meaning
than they would truly bear; vihat is spoken in a figure
is construed ,vith the severity of a logical statement,
while passages of an opposite tenour are overlooked or
set aside. 5. In the fifth instance, the mere mention
of a family of a jailer at Philippi ,vho was bapt.ized
(' he and all his,' Acts xvi. 33), has led to the inference
that in this family there "rere probably young children,
and hence that infant baptism is, first, permissive,
secondly, obligatory. 6. In the sixth case the chief
stress of the argument from Scripture turns on the
occurrence of the word (
7r:(J'K01TOÇ) bishop in the
Epistles to
rimothy and Titus, ,vhich is assisted by a
supposed analogy between the position of the
t\.postles
and of their successors; although the term bishop is
clearly used in the passages referred to as ,veIl as in
other parts of the New Testament indistinguishably
from Presbyter, and the magisterial authority of
bishops in after ages is unlike rather than like the
personal authority of the Apostles in the beginning
of the Gospel. The further development of Episcopacy
into Apostolical succession has often been rested on
the promise, 'Lo, I am ''lith you al,vay, even to the
end of the ,vorld.' 7. In the seventh case the pre-
cepts of order which are addressed in the Epistle to
the' fifth monarchy men of those days,' are transferred
to a duty of obedience to hereditary princes; the fact

On the Interpretation oj Scripture. 361
of the house of David, 'the Lord's anointed' sitting
on the throne of Israel is converted into a principle
for all times and countries. And the higher lesson
w'hich our Saviour teaches: 'Render unto Cæsar the
things \vhich are Cæsar's,' that is to say, 'Render unto
all their due, and to God above all,' is spoiled by being
Jnade into a precept of political subjection. H. Lastly,
the justice of God' ,vho re,vardeth every n1an according
to his works,' and the Christian scheme of redelnption
has been staked on two figurative expressions of St.
l)aul to which there is no parallel in any other part of
Script.ure (1 Corinthians xv. 22. 'For as in Adalll all
die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive,' and the
corresponding passage in Romans v. 12); not,vith-
standing the declaration of the Old Testament as also
I of the N e\v, 'Every soul shall bear its own iniquity,'
and ' neither this man sinned nor his parents. ' It is
not necessary for our purpose to engage further in
the matters of dispute ,,'"hich have arisen by the way
in attempting to illustrate the general argument. Yet
to avoid misconception it may be remarked that many
I (,f the principles, rules, or truths mentioned, as for
example, Infant Baptism, or the Episcopal Form of
Church Government, have sufficient grounds; the
\veakness is the attempt to derive them from Scripture.
With this minute' and rigid enforcement of the
,vords of Scripture in passages where the ideas ex-
I presseù in them either really or apparently agree with
, received opinions or institutions, there remains to be
contrasted the neglect, or in some instances the mis-
interpretation of other words \vhich are not equally
in harmony with the spirit of the age. In many of
our Lord's discourses he speaks of the 'blessedness of
poverty:' of the hardness which they that have riches
will experience' in attaining eternal life.' 'It is easier
for a camel to go through a needle's eye,' and 'Son,
thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things,' and
again, 'One thing thoulackest, go sell all that thou hast.'

362 On the InteJ]Jretation oj SCri]Jltlre.
Precepts like these do not appeal to our own expe-
rience of life; they are unlike anything that we see
around us at the present day, even among good men;
to some among us they will recall the remarkable say-
ing of Lessing,-' that the Christian religion had been
tried for eighteen centuries; the religion of Christ re-
mained to be tried.' To take them literally would be
injurious to ourselves and to society (at least, so we
think). Religious sects or orders who have seized
this aspect of Christianity håve come to no good, and
have often ended in extravagance. It will not do to
go into the world saying "V oe unto you, ye rich
nlen,' or on entering a noble mansion to repeat the
denunciations of the prophet about 'cedar and ver-
nlillion,' or on being shown the prospect of a magni-
ficent estate to cry out ' Woe unto ihem that lay field
to field that they may be placed alone in the midst of
the earth.' 'rimes have altered, we say, since these de-
nunciationswere uttered; what appeared to the Prophet
or Apostle a violation of the appointment of Providence
has now become a part of it. It ,viII not do to make a
great supper, and mingle at the same board the t\VO
ends of society, as modern phraseology calls then1,
fetching in 'the poor, the maimed, the lame, the
blind,' to fill the vacant places of noble guests.
That would be eccentric in modern times, and even
hurtful. N either is it suitable for us to wash one
another's feet, or to perforln any other nlenial office,
because our Lord set us the example. The custonlS
of society do not admit it; no good would be
done by it, and singularity is of itself an evil.
1Vell, then, are the precepts of Christ not to be
obeyed? Perhaps in their fullest sense they cannot
be obeyed. But at any rate they are not to be ex-
plained away; the standard of Christ is not to be
lo\vered to ordinary Christian life, because ordinary
Christian life cannot rise, even in good men, to the
standard of Christ. And there may be 'standing

Oil the IJlterpretation of Scripture. 363

alllong us' somp one in ten thousand' ,vhom we kno\v
not,' in ,vhorn there is such a divine union of charity
and prudence that he is most blest in the entire fulfil-
n1ent of the precept-' Go sell all that thou hast,'-
,vhich to obey literally in other cases ,vould be evil,
and not good. 1Iany there have been, doubtless (not
one or t,vo only), who have given all that they had
on earth to their falllily or friends-the poor servant
'casting her t\VO nlites into the treasury,' denying
herself the ordinary cOlnforts of life for the sake of an
erring parent or brother; that is not probably an un-
con1mon case, and as near an approach as in this life
,ve make to heaven. And there may be some one or
t,vo rare natures in the world in ,vhom there is such
a divine courtesy, such a gentleness and dignity of
I soul, that differences of rank seem to yanish be-
fore them, and they look upon the face of others,
even of their o,vn servants and dependents, only
as they are in the sight of God and will be in
His kingdonl. And there lnay be some tender and
delicate ,vonlan among us, who feels that she has a
divine vocation to fulfil the most repulsive offices
to,vards the dying innlates of a hospital, or the soldier
perishing in a foreign land. Whether such examples
of self-sacrifice are good or evil, must depend, not
altogether on social or economical principles, but on
the spirit of those ,vho offer them, and the po,ver
I ,vhich they have in themselves of 'making all things
I kin.' And even if the ideal itself ,vere not carried out
by us in practice, it has nevertheless ,vhat may be
tern led a truth of feeling. 'Let them that have
riches be as though they had them not.' 'Let the rich
luan ,year the load lightly; he ,vill one day fold them
up as a vesture.' Let not the refinement of society
n1ake us forget that it is not the refined only who are
received into the kingdom of God; nor the daintiness
of life hide from us the bodily evils of ,vhich the rich
man anù Lazarus are alike heirs. Thoughts such as

3û4 On the Interp1"etatioJl of Scripture.
these have the power to reunite us to our fello1v.
creatures froin ,yhom the accidents of birth, position,
,vealth have separated us; they soften our hearts
towards them, when divided not only by vice and 1
ignorance, but \vhat is even a greater barrier, difference
of manners and associations. For if there be anything
in our o\vn fortune superior to that of others, instead
of idolizing or cherishing it in the blood, the Gospel
\vould have us cast it from us; and if there be any-
thing mean or despised in those with ,vhonl we have
to do, the Gospel "vould have us regard SUCll as friends
and brethren, yea, even as having the person of Christ.
Another instance of apparent, if not real neglect of
the precepts of Scripture, is furnished by the com.
mandment against s,vearing. No precept about
divorce is so plain, 8.0 universal, so exclusive as this;
, S,vear not at all.' Yet ,ve all kno\v ho\v the custom
of Christian countries has modified this 'counsel of
perfection' \vhicll ,,-ras uttered by the Saviour. This
is the more remarkable because in this case the precept
is not, as in the former, practically impossible of ful-
filment or even difficult. And yet in this instance
again, the body who have endeavoured to follow more
nearly the letter of our Lord's cOlnmandnlent, seem to
have gone against tIle common sense of the Christian
,vorld. Or to add one more exanlple: 'VIlO, that hears
of the Sabbat,arianism, as it is called, of some Protestant
countries, would imagine that the Author of our religion
had cautioned his disciples, not against the violation
of the Sabbath, but only against its formal and Phari-
. saical observance; or that the chiefest of the Apostles
had warned the Colossians to 'Let no man judge then1
inrespectofthenewmoon,oroftllesabbath-days.' (ii. J6.)
The neglect of another class of passages is even
more surprising, the precepts contained in thenl ?e
ng
quite practicable and in harmony with the eXlstln p
state of the world. In this instance it seems as If
religious teachers had failed to gather those principles

Oll the Interpretation of Scripture. 3G:>
of ,vhich they stood n10st in need. 'Think ye that
those eighteen upon ,vhorn the tower of Siloam fell?'
is the characteristic lesson of the Gospel on the occasion
of àny sudden visitation. Yet it is another reading
of such calau1ities that is commonly insisted upon.
The observation is seldom made respecting the parable
of the good Salnaritan, that the true neighbour is also
a person of a different religion. The ,vords, 'Forbid
him not: for there is 11 0 man which shall do a miracle in
Iny nan1e, that can lightly speak evil of me,' are often
said to have no application to sectarian differences in
the present day, ,vhen thf\ Church is established and
miracles have ceased. The conduct of our Lord to the
,von1an taken in adultery, though not intended for our
inlitation al,vays, yet affords a painflil contrast to the
I excessive severity with ,vhieh even a Christian society
punishes the errors of ,vornen. The boldness ,vith ,vhich
; St. Paul applies the principle of individual judgll1ent,
i 'Let every n1an be fully persuaded in his lllind,' as ex-
I hibited also in the words quoted above, 'Let no man
; judge you in respect of the ne"T n100n, or of the sab-
I bath-days,' is far greater than ,vould be allo,ved in the
I present age. Lastly, that the tenet of the damnation uf
! the heathen should ever have prevailed in the Christian
I ,vorld, or that the damnation of Catholics should have
been a received opinion among Protestants, in1plies a
strange forgetfulness of such passages as ROlnans ii.
: 1-16. "'7]10 re,vardeth every luan according to his
I work,' and "Vhen the Gentiles, which kno,v not the
la,v, do by nature the things contained in the Ia,v,'
&c. 'Vhat a difference bet,veen the sinlple staten1ent
I which the Apostle makes of the justice of God and
, the 'uncovenanted Inercies' or 'invincible ignorance'
I of theologians half reluctant to give up, let afraid to
maintain the advantage of denying salvation to those
, who are 'eætra palzlJJl Ecclesiæ /'
The same habit of silence or misinterpretation
I extends to words or stateluents of Scripture in which

3G6 Oll the Interpretation 0/ Scripture.
doctrines are thought to be interested. ,Vhen main.
taining the Athanasian doctrine of the Trinity, \ve do
not readily recall the verse, 'of that hour kno\veth no
man, no not the Angels of God, neither tlte Son, but the
Father.' (l\fark xiii. 32.) Thetenlperorfeeling which led
St. Anlbrose to doubt the genuineness of the \vords
marked in italics, leads Christians in our O\Vll day to
pass them over. 'Ve are scarcely just to the 1\lille-
narians or to those 'VI10 maintain the continuance of
miracles or spiritual gifts in the Christian Church, in I
not adn1itting the degree of support \v hich is afforded I
to their vie\vs by many passages of Scripture. The
same remark applies to the Predestinarian controversy;
the Calvinist is often hardly dealt ,vith, in being
deprived of his real standing ground in the third and
ninth chapters of the Epistle to the Romans. And the
Protestant ,vho thinks hinlself bound to prove fr0111
Scripture the very details of doctrine or discipline \vhich
are nlaintained in his Church, is often obliged to l1ave
recourse to harsh methods, and sOlTIetin1es to deny ap..
pearances which seeln to favour SOine particular tenet of
Roman Catholicis111. (l\latthe\v xvi. 18, 19 ; xviii. 18 ; I
Cor. iii. 15.) The Ronlan Catholic, on the other hand,
scarcely observes that nearly all the distinctive articles
of his creed are \vanting in the New Testarnent; the
Calvinist in fact ignores ahnost the \vhole of the sacred
volunle for the sake of a few verses. The truth is,
that in seeking to prove our o\vn opinions out of
Scripture, we are constantly falling into the common
faIlacy of opening our eyes to one class of facts and
closing theln to another. The favourite verses shine
like stars, ,vhile the rest of the page is thrown into
the shade.
Nor indeed is it easy to say \vhat is the meaning of
C proving a doctrine from Scripture.' For ,vhen \ve
demand logical equivalents and siu1ilarity of circu1l1-
stances, \vhen \ve balance adverse statements, St.
Janles and St. Paul, the New Testament ,vith the Old,

OIl the Interpretation oj ScrijJlure. 367
it "\vill be hard to denlonstrate from Scripture any com-
plex systeln either of doctriJ?-e or l?ractice. The Bible
is not a book of statutes In \vhIch \vords have been
chosen to cover the multitude of cases, but in the
greater portion of it, especially the Gospels and Epistles,
, like a man talking to his friend.' Nay, more, it is a
book written in the East, "\vhich is in some degree
IÜtble to be nlisunderstood, because it speaks the lan-
guage and has the feeling of Eastern lands. N or can
\;ve readily determine in eXplaining the words of our
Lord or of St. Paul, ho\v much (even of some of the
passages just quoted) is to be attributed to Oriental
modes of speech. Expressions "\vhich would be regarded
as rhetorical exaggerations in the 'Vestern \vorld are
the natural vehicles of thought to an Eastern people.
Ho\v great then must be the confusion where an
attempt is made to draw out these Oriental modes
,vith the severity of a philosophical or legal argument!
Is it not such a use of the words of Christ which he
himself rebukes \vhen he sa)"'"s, 'It is the spirit that
quickeneth, the flesh profiteth notlling.' (J ohn vi.
52, 63.)
There is a further ,vay in "\vhich the language of
creeds and liturgies as 'v ell as the ordinary theological
use of terms exercises a disturbing influence on the
interpretation of Scripture. 'V ords "\vhich occur in
Scripture are singled out and incorporated in systenls
like stones taken out of an old building and put into
a new one. They acquire a technical meaning more
or less divergent from the original one. It is obvious
that their use in Scripture, and not their later and
technical sense, must furnish the rule of interpretation.
We should not have recourse to the meaning of a
word in Polybius, for the explanation of its use in
Plato, or to the turn of a sentence in Lycophron, to
, illustrate a construction of ..lEschylus. It is the Ranle
! kind of anachronisnl "\vhich ,vould interpret Scripture
! by the scholastic or theological use of the language of

368 On the Iitterpretation of Scripture.
Scripture. It is re]narkable that this use is indeed
partial, that is to say it affects one class of words and
not another. Love and truth, for exan1ple, have never
been theological terlns; grace and faith, on the
other hand, al ways retain an association \vith the
Pelagian or Lutheran controversies. Justification and
inspiration are derived from verbs which occur in
Script.ure, and the later substantive has clearly affected
the 111eaning of the original verb or verbal in the
places where they occur. The remark might be further
illustrated by the use of Scriptural language respecting
the Sacraments, which has also had a retlex influence
on its interpretation in n1any passages of Scripture,
especially in the Gospel of St. J ohn. (John iii. 5; vi.
56, &c.)
Iinds ,vhich are familiar ,vith the mystical
doctrine of the Sacraments seem to see a reference to
them in almost every place in the Old Testament as
well as in the N e\v, in ,vhich the words ',vater: or
'bread and wine' lnay happen to occur.
Other questions meet us on the threshold of a differ-
ent kind, ","hich also affect therefore tIle interpretation
of Scripture, and delnand an ans,ver. Is it adn1itted
that the Scripture has one and only one true meaning?
Or are we to follow the fathers into mystical and
allegorical explanations? or with the n1aj ority of
n10dern interpreters to confine ourselves to the double
senses of prophecy, and the symbolism of the Gospel
in the la\v? In either case, ,ve assume ,vhat can
never be proved, and an instrument is introduced of
such subtlety and pliability as to make the Scriptures
n1ean anything-' Gallus in ca ïflp an iIi, , as the 'Val-
denses described it; 'the weathercock on the church
tower,' ,vhich is turned hither and thither by every
,vil1d of doctrine. That the present age has gro,vn
out of the n1ystical methods of the early fathers is a
part of its intellectual state. No one will now seek
to find hidden meanings in the scarlet thread of Rahab,
or the number of Abraham's follo\vers, or in the little

OJl the IllterpretatioN of Scri.Jjfure. 3ßD
circunlstance nlentioned after the resurrection of the
Saviour that St. Peter \vas the first to enter the sepul.
chre. To most educated persons in the nineteenth
century, these applications of Scripture appear foolish.
Yet it is rather the excess of the method \vhich pro-
vokes a slnile than the nlethod itself. For nlany
remains of the rnystical interpretation exist alllong our-
sel\es; it is not the early fathers only \vho have read the
Bible cross\vise, or deciphered it as a book of symbols.
And the uncertainty is the san1e in any part of Scrip-
ture if there is a departure froln the plain and obvious
meaning. If: for exanlple, \ve alternate the verses in
\yhich our Lord speaks of the last things bet\Veell
the day of j udgll1 en t and the destruction of J erusalell1 ;
or, in the elder prophecies, \yhich are the counterparts
of these, make a corresponding division bet\veen thetelll-
poral and the spiritual Israel; or again if \ve attribute
to the details of the
Iosaical ritual a reference to the
N e\v Testanlent ; or, once n10re, supposing the passage
of the Red Sea to be regarded not nlerel y as a figure
of bapti
nl1, but as a pre-ordained type, the principle
I is conceded; there is no good reason ",vhy the scarlet
thread of Rahab should not receive the explanation
given to it by Clement. A little nlore or a lit.tle less
of the nlethod does not nlake the difference bet\veen
I certainty and uncertainty in the interpretation of
Scripture. In \vhateyer degree it is practised it is
equally incapable of being reduced to any rule; it is
I the interpreter's fancy, and is likely to be not less but
nlore dangerous and extravagant \vhen it adds the
charm of authority froln its use in past ages.
The question \vhich has been suggested runs up into
a more general one, 'the relation bet\veen the Old and
New Testanlents.' For the Old Testalnent will receive
a different l11eaning accordingly as it is explained from
itself or from the N e\v. In the first case a careful
and conscientious study of each one for itself is all
that is required; in the second case the types and
B B

370 On the Interpretation of Scripture.
ceremonies of the la\v, perhaps the very facts and per-
sons of the history, ,vill be assulned to be predestined
or made after a pattern corresponding to the things
that ,vere to be in the latter days. And this question
of itself stirs another question respecting the interpre-
tation of the Old Testament in the New. Is such
interpretation to be regarded as the meaning of
the original text, or an acconlmodation of it to the
thoughts of other times?
Our object is not to attenlpt here the determination
of tllese questions, but to point out that they must be
determined before any real progress can be nlade or
any agreenlent arrived at in the interpretation of
Scripture. With one more exall1ple of another kind
we may close this part of the subject. The origin of
the three first Gospels is an inquiry ,vhich has not
been lUUCll considered by English theologians since
the days of Bishop l\Iarsh. The difficulty of the
question has been sometimes misunderstood; the
point, being ho,v there can be so nluch agreement in
words, and so muc}l disagreenlent both in \vords and
facts; the double phenolnenon is the real perplexity-
ho\v in short there can be all degrees of sinlilarity and
dissimilarity, the kind and degree of sÎlnilarity being
such as to make it necessary to suppose that large
portions are copied fronl each ot,}ler or froln conlnlon
doculnents; the dissinlilarities being of a kind 'v hich
seem to render inlpossible any kno\vledge in the
authors of one another's \vritings. The lUOst probable
solution of tIns difficulty is that the tradition on which
the three first Gospels are based ,vas at first pre-
served orally, and sIo\vly put together and ,vritten
in the three forms which it assunled at a very early
period, those fornls being in some places, l=erhaps,
lllodified by translation. It is not necessary to de-
velope this hypothesis farther. The point to be noticed
is, that \v hether this or SOlne other theory be the true
account (and some such account is delnonstrably

On tlte Interpretation of Scripture. 371
necessary), the assumption of such a theory, or rather
the observation of the facts on ,vhich it rests, cannot
but exercise an influence on interpretation. We can
no longer speak of three independent witnesses of the
Gospel narrati,e. Hence there follow son1e other
consequences. (I.) There is no longer the san1e neces-
sity as heretofore to reconcile inconsistent narratives;
the harmony of the Gospels only Ineans the parallelism
of similar words. (2.) There is no longer any need to
enforce every,vhere the connexion of successive verses,
for the same ,vords ,vill be found to occur in different
connexions in the different Gospels. (3. ) Nor can the
designs attributed to their authors be regarded as the
free handling of the same subject on different plans;
the difference consisting chiefly in the occurrence or
absence of local or verbal explanations or the ad-
dition or omission of certain passages. Lastly, it is
evident that no ,veight can be given to traditional
statements of facts about the authorship, as, for ex-
ample, that respecting St. l\Iark being the interpreter
of St. Peter, because the Fathers who have handed
down these statements '\vere ignorant or unobservant
of the great fact, which is proved by internal evidence,
that they are for the most part of common origin.
Until these and the like questions are determined
by interpreters, it is not possible that there should be
agreement in the interpretation of Scripture. The
Protrstant and Catholic, the Unitarian and Trinita-
rian ,viII continue to fight their battle on the ground
of the N e,v Testament. The Preterists and Futurists,
those ,,
ho lnaintain that the roll of prophecies is
completed in past history, or in the apostolicaJ age;
those ,vho look for,vard to a long series of events
which are yet to come [E;Ç /z1>av
ç ròv JlvOOV /zVEVl:)'KWV
OVK
XH
Àl:)'xovJ, may alike clailn the authority of the
Book of Daniel, or the Revelation. Apparent coinci-
dences ,vill al,vays be discovered by those who want
to find theln. 'Vhere there is no critical interpret a-
B B :2

372 Oil the Interpretation of Scripture.
tion of Scripture, there will be a mystical or rheto-
rical one. If words have more than one meaning, they
may have any meaning. Instead of being a rule of
life or faith, Scripture becomes the expression of the
ever-changing aspect of religious opinions. The un-
changeable word of God, in the name of which we
repose, is changed by each age and each generation
in accordance with its passing fancy. The book in
,vhich ,ve believe all religious truth to be contained,
is the most uncertain of all books, because interpreted
by arbitrary and uncertain methods.

z.
It is probable that some of the preceding state-
ment
may be censured as a wanton exposure of the
difficulties of Scripture. It will be said that such
inquiries are for the few, \vhile the printed page lies
open to the many, and that the obtrusion of them
may offend some weaker brother, some half-educated
or prejudiced soul, 'for \vhom,' nevertheless, in the
touching language of St. Paul, , Christ died.' A con-
fusion of the heart and head may lead sensitive
minds into a desertion of the principles of the Chris-
tian life, vlhich are their o\yn \vitness, because they
are in doubt about facts which are really external to
them. Great evil tü character may sometimes ensue
from such causes. ' No man can serve two' opinions
,vithout a sensible harln fo his nature. The con-
sciousness of this responsibility should be always
present to \vriters on theology. But the responsibi-
lity is really two-fold; for there is a duty to speak
the truth as ,veIl as a duty to withhold it. The voice
of a majority of the clergy throughout the ,vorld, the
half sceptical, half conservative in.3tincts of nlany lay-
Inen, perhaps, also, individual interest, are in favour of
the latter course; while a higher expediency pleads that
'honesty is the best p
licy,' and that truth alone
, makes free.' To this, it may be replied that truth
is not truth tü those \v ho are unable to use it; no

On the lnte1pretation if Scripture. 373
reasonable man would attempt to lay before the illiterate
such a question as that concerning the origin of the
Gospels. And yet it Inay be rejoined once more, the
healthy tone of religion among the poor depends upon
freedom of thought and inquiry among the educated.
In this conflict of reasons, individual judgment must
at last decide. That there has been no rude, or im-
proper unveiling of the difficulties of Scripture in
the preceding pages, is thought to be shown by the
following considerations:
First, that the difficulties referred to are very well
known; they force themselves on tIle attention, not
only of the student, but of every intelligent reader of
the New Testanlent, \vhether in Greek or English.
The treatment of such difficulties in theological works
is no measure of public opinion respecting them.
Thoughtful persons, whose n1inds have turned to\vards
theology, are continually discovering that the critical
observations ,vhich they nlake thems(-1lves have been
nlade also by others apparently without concert. The
truth is that they have been led to them by the sanle
causes, and these again lie deep in the tendencies of
education and literature in the present age. But no
one is willing to break through the reticence ,vhich is
observed on these subjects; hence a sort of smoulder-
ing scepticism. It is probable that the distrust is
greatest at the time \v hen the greatest efforts are made
to conceal it. Doubt comes in at the windo\v, \vhen
Inquiry is denied at the door. The thoughts of
able and highly educated young men almost always
stray towards the first principles of things; it is
a great injury to them, and tends to raise in their
minds a sort of incurable suspicion, to find that there
is one book of the fruit of the knowledge of which they
arp forbidden freely to taste, that is, the Bible. The
same spirit renders the Christian Ininister almost
powerless in the hands of his opponents. He can
give no true ans\ver to the nlechanic or artizan \vho

374 Oll the InteJ"jJretatioll of Scripture.
has either diseovered by his mother-\vit or ,vho retails
at second-hand the objections of critics; for he is
unable to look at things as they truly are.
Secondly, as the tiIne has conle ,vhen it is no longer
possible to ignore the results of criticism, it is of im-
portance that Christianity sllould be seen to be in
harmony ,yith them. That objections to some received
views should be valid, and yet that they should be
al,vays held up as the objections of infidels, is a mis-
chief to the Christian cause. It is a mischief that
critical observations ,vhich any intelligent man can
make for himself, should be ascribed to atheism or
unbelief. It would be a strange and alnlost incredible
thing that the Gospel, ,vhich at first made ,val" only
on the vices of nlankind, should no,v be opposed to
one of the highest and rarestofhunlan virtues-the love
of truth. And that in the present day the great ol
ectof
Christianity should be, not to change the lives of men,
but to' prevent theln from changing their opinions;
that ,vouid be a singular inversion of t,he purposes for
,vhich Christ came into tIle world. The Christian
religion is in a false position ,vhen all the tendencies
of kno,vledge are opposed to it. Such a position can-
not be long maintained, or can only end in the ,vith-
dra,val of the educated classes from the influences of
religion. It is a grave consideration whether we
ourselves may not be in an earlier stage of the same
religious dissolution, which seelllS to have gone further
in Italy and France. The reason for thinking so is
not to be sought in the external circumstances of our
own or any other religious conlmunion, but in the
progress of ideas with ,vhich Christian teachers seem to
be ill at ease. Time ,vas ,vhen the Gospel ,vas before
the age; ,vhen it breathed a ne,v life into a decaying
,vorld-when the difficulties of Christianity ,vere
difficulties of the heart only, and the highest minds
found in its truths not only the rule of their lives,
but a ,veIl-spring of intellectual delight. Is it to be

On the Interpretation of Scripture. 375
belel a thing in1possible that the Christian religion,
instead of shrinking into itself, n1ay again embrace the
thoughts of men upon the earth? Or is it true that
I since the Reformation 'all intellect has gone the other
I way?' and that in Protestant countries reconciliation
is as hopeless as Protestants commonly believe to be
the case in Catholic.
Those ,vho hold the possibility of such a reconcile-
I ment or restoration of belief, are anxious to disengage
Christianity froln all suspicion of disguise or unfair-
ness. They wish to preserve the historical use of
Scripture as the continuous ,vitness in all ages of the
higher things in the heart of man, as the inspired
source of truth and the way to the better life. They
are "Tilling to take a\vay SOllle of the external supports,
I because they are not needed and do harm; also,
because they interfere with the meaning. They have
I a faith, not that after a period of transition all things
,vill relnain just as they 'v ere before, but that they
will all con1e round again to the use of man and to the
, glory of God. vVhen interpreted like any other book,
by the san1e rules of evidence and the san1e canons of
, criticism, the Bible ,vill still remain unlike any other
book; its beauty ,vill be freshly seen, as of a picture
\vhich is restored after many ages to its original state;
, it will create a ne,v interest and ll1ake for itself a new
kind of authority by the life \vhich is in it. It ,vill
be a spirit and not a letter; as it ,vas in the beginning,
, having an influence like that of the spoken ,vord, or
the book ne\vly found. The purer the light in the
human heart, the more it ,vill have an expres
ion of
itself in the 111ind of Christ; the greater the kno,vledge
of the developn1ent of man, the truer "Till be the
insight gained into the 'increasingpurpose' of revelation.
In ,vhich also the individual SOlÙ has a practical part,
finding a synlpa.thy ,vith its o,vn imperfect feelings,
in the broken utterance of the Psalmist or the Prophet
as well as in the fillness of Christ. The harmony

376 Oil the Interpretation of SC1'"ipflu'"e.
hetween Scripture and the life of In an, in all its stages,
Inay be far greater tl1an appears at present. No one
can form any notion from ,vhat ,ve see around us, of
the po,ver ,vhich Christianity Inight have if it were at
one with the conscience of man, and not at variance
,vith his intellectual convictions. TheI'e, a world weary
of the heat and dust of controversy-of speculations
abo.ut God and nlan-,veary too of the rapidity of its
O'\vn motion, ,vould return home and find rest.
But for the faith that the Gospel might win again
the minds of intellectual men, it ,vould be better to
leave religion to itself, instead of att,empting to dra-\v
them together. OtlIer walks in literature have' peace
and pleasure and profit; the path of the critical
Interpreter of Scripture is alnlost al\vays a thorny one
in England. It is not ,vorth while for anyone to
enter upon it who is not supported by a sense that he
has a Christian and moral obj ect. For although an Inter-
preter of Scripture in modern times ,viII hardly say
with the emphasis of the Apostle, , Woe is nle, if I
speak not tIle truth ,vithout regard to consequences,'
yet he too may feel it a matter of duty not to conceal
the tllings ,vllich he kno,vs. He does not hide the
discrepancies of Scripture, because tIle ackno,vledgment
of them is the first step towards agreen1ent anlong
interpreters. He ,vouId restore the original meaning,
because 'seven other' nleanings take the place of it;
the book is made the Rport of opinion and the instru-
ment of perversion of life. He would take the excuses
of the head out of the way of the heart; there is hope
too that by drawing ChristÏétns together on the ground
of Scripture, he may also draw them nearer to one
another. He is not afraid that inquiries, which have
for their object the truth, can ever be displeasing to
the God of truth; or that the 'V ord of God is in any
such sense a ,vord as to be hurt by investigations into
its human origin and conception.
It may be thought another ungracious aspect of the

Oil the Intelpretation of SCTipture. 377
preceding remarks, that they cast a slight upon the
interpreters of Scripture in former ages. The early
Fathers, the Roman Catholic ill ystical writers, the
S\viss and German Reformers, the Nonconformist
divines, have qualities for ,vhich \ve look in vain anlong
ourselves; they throw an intensity of light upon the
page of Scripture \vhich we nowhere find in modern
cOlllnlentaries. But it is not the light of interpreta-
tioll. They have a faith \vhich seems indeed to have
gro\vn dim now-a-days, but that faith is not dra\vn
fronl the st.udy of Scripture; it is the element in \vhich
their o\vn nlind nloves ,vhich overflows on the meaning
of the text. The \yords of Scripture suggest to thenl
their
:nvn thoughts or feelings. They are preachers,
or in the New Testanlent sense of the word, prophets
rather than interpreters. There is nothing in such a
view derogatory to the saints and doctors of former
ages. That Aquinas or Bernard did not shake them-
selves free fronl the mystical method of the Patristic
tinles, or the Scholastic one ,vhich was more peculiarly
their o\vn; that Luther and Calvin read the Scriptures
in connexion with the ideas \v hich 'v ere kindling in
the mind of their age, and t.he events \vhich \vere
passing before their eyes, these and similar renlarks
are not to be construed as' depreciatory of the genius
or learning of famous men of old; they relate only to
their interpretation of Scripture, in ,vhich it is no
slight upon them to nlaintain that they ,vere not
before their day.
,Vhat remains may be comprised in a fe\v precepts,
or rather is the expansion of a single one. Interpret
the Scripture liX'e all!! oilLel'" book. There are nlany
respects in which Scripture is unlike any other book;
these ,vill appear in the results of such an interpreta-
tion. The first step is to know the meaning, and this
can only be done in the same careful and impartial
\vay that we ascertain the Ineaning of Sophocles' or of
Plato. The subordinate principles \vhich flo\v out of

378 On the Interpretation oj Scripture.
this general one will also be gathered from the
observation of Scripture. No other science of Her-
meneutics is possible but an inductive one, that is to
say, one based on the language and thoughts and nar-
rations of the sacred writers. And it "vould be "veIl to
carry tlle theory of interpretation no further than in
the case of other works. Excessive system tends to
create an impression that the meaning of Scripture is
out of our reach, or is to be attained in some other
way than by the eÀ"'ercise of manly sense and industry.
Who would write a bulky treatise about the Inethod
to be pursued in interpreting Plato or Sophocles?
Let us not set out on our journey so lleavily equipped
that there is little chance of our arriving at the end of
it.
:'he Inethod creates itself as we go on, beginning
only'\vith a few reflections directed against plain errors.
Sueh reflections are the rules of common sense, which
we acknowledge with respect to other works written
in dead languages: without pretending to novelty
they n1ay help us to 'return to nature' in the study
of the sacred writings.
First, it may be laid down that Scripture has one
meaning-the meaning "vhich it had to the mind of
the prophet or evangelist '\vho first uttered or wrote,
to the hearers or readers who first received it. Another
view may be easier or more familiar to us, seelning to
receive a light and interest from the circumstances
of our own age. But SUCll acconlmodation of the text
must be laid aside by the interpreter, '\vhose business
is to place hilnself as nearly as possible in the position
of the sacred writer. That is no easy task-to call
up the inner and outer life of the contemporaries of
our Saviour; to follo'\v the abrupt and involved utter-
ance of St. Paul or one of the old Prophets; to trace
the meaning of words when language first becanle
Christian. He will often have to choose the more
difficult interpretation (Galatians ii. 20; Romans iii. IS,
&c.), and to refuse one more in agreement ,vith received

Oil the Interpretation of ScriJ] lure. 37D
opinions, ùecause the latter is less true to the style
and time of the author. He may incur the charge of
singularity, or confusion of ideas, or ignorance of Greek,
from a misunderstanding of the peculiarity of the sub-
ject in the person who makes the charge. For if it be
said that the translation of some Greek words is con-
trary to the usages of grammar (Galatians iv. ]3), that
is not in every instance to be denied; the point is
,vhether the usages of granlmar are al\vays observeù.
Or if it be objected to some interpretation of Scripture
that it is difficult and perplexing, the ans\ver is-
'tl}at may very well be-it is the fact,' arising out of
differences in the modes of thought of other times, or
irregularities in the use of language \vhich no art of
, the interpreter can evade. One consideration should
I be borne in mind, that the Bible is the only book in
thr world \vritten in different styles and at many
different times, which is in the hands of persons of all
degrees of knowledge and education. The benefit of
thisout\veighs the evil, yet the evilshouldbe aùnlitted-
namely, that it leads to ahastyand partial interpretation
I of Scripture, which often obscures the true one. A sort
of conflict arises bet\veen scientific criticism and popu-
lar opinion. The indiscrÌ1ninate use of Scripture has
a further tendency to nlaintain erroneous readings or
translations; some \vhich are allo\ved to be such by
scholars have been stereotyped in the mind of the
English reader; and it beconles almost a political
, question how far \ve can venture to disturb them.
There are difficulties of another kind in nlan y parts
I of Scripture, the dept.h and in\vardness of \vhich re-
I quire a measure of the same qualities in the interpreter
hÌ1nself. There are notes struck in places, \vhich like
some discoveries of science have sounded before their
time; and only after many days have been caught up
anù found a response on the earth. There are germs
I of truth which after thousands of years have never yet
I taken root in the world. There are lessons in the

380 On the Interpretation of Scr(pture.
Prophets which, ho,vever sin1ple, mankind have not
yet learned even in theory; and which the complexity I
of society rather tends to hide; aspects of human life 1
in Job and Ecclesiastes which have a trutll of desola-
tion about them ,vhich we faintly realize in ordinary
circumstances. It is, perhaps, the greatest difficulty of
all to enter into the meaning of tIle words of Christ-
so gentle, so human, so divine, neither adding to the In
nor marring their simplicity. 'J.:'he attempt to illustrate
or dra,v them out in detail, even to guard against their
abuse, is apt to disturb the balance of truth. 'fhe
interpreter needs nothing short of C fashioning' in
himself the image of the mind of Christ. He has to
be born again into a ne,v spiritual or intellectual world,
from ,vhich the thoughts of this ,vorld are shut out.
It is one of the highest tasks on which the labour of a
life can be spent, to bring the words of Christ a little
nearer the heart of man.
But while ackno\vledging this inexhaustible or in-
finite character of the sacred writings, it does not,
therefore, follo,v that we are willing to admit of hidden
or mysterious n1eanings in them (in the same ,yay \ve
recognise the ,vonders and complexity of the laws of
nature to be far beyond ,vhat eye has seen or know-
ledge reached, yet it is not therefore to be supposed
that we acknowledge the existence of some other laws
different in kind from those ,ve kno\v ,vhich are in-
capable of philosophical analysis). In like manner \ve
have no reason to attribute to the Prophet or Evan-
gelist any second or Ilidden sense different fro111 that
which appears on the surface. All that the Prophet
meant may not have been consciously present to his
mind; there were depths which to himself also were
but half revealed. lIe beheld the fortunes of Israel
passing into the heavens; the temporal kingdom was
fading into an eternal one. It is not to be supposed
that what he saw at a distance only ,vas clearly defined
to him; or that the universal truth which was appear-

On the Interpretation of ScrlJjlure. 381
ing and reappearing in the history of the surrounding
,vorld took a purely spiritual or abstract form in his
mind. There is a sense in which we may still say
,vith Lord Bacon, that the words of prophecy are to
be interpreted as the ,vords of one 'with ,vhom a
I thousand years are as one day, and one day as a
thousand years.' But that is no reason for turning
days into years, or for interpreting the things 'that
must shortly come to pass' in the book of Revelation,
I as the events of modern history, or for separating the
day of judgment from the destruction of Jerusalem in
I the Gospels. The double meaning which is given to
our Saviour's discourse respecting the last things is
not that 'form of eternity' of which Lord Bacon
speaks; it resembles rather the doubling of an object
I \vhen seen through glasses placed at different angles.
I It is true also that there are types in Scripture ,vhich
I were regarded as such by the Jews themselves, as for
example, the scapegoat, or the paschal lamb. But that
is no proof of all outward ceremonies being types when
Scripture is silent ;-(if ,ve aSSUIne the New rrestament
, as a tradition running parallel ,vith the Old, may
not the Roman Catholic assume with equal reason
a tradition running parallel with the New?) Pro-
phetic symbols, again, have often the same meaning
I in different places (e.g., the four beasts or living crea-
tures, the colours white or red); the reason is that
I this m.eaning is derived from some natural aSðociation
(as of fruitfulness, purity, or the like); or again, they
are borro,ved in SOill.e of the later prophecies from
earlier ones; we are not, therefore, justified in suppos-
ing any hidden connexion in the prophecies where they
I occur. Neither is there any ground for assuming
design of any other kind in Scripture any more than
in Plato or Homer. 'Vherever there is beauty and
order, there is design; but there is no proof of any
artificial design, such as is often traced by the Fathers,
in the relation of the several parts of a book, or of

382 On the Jilterpretation of 8cr'pture.
the several books to each other. That is one of those
mischievous notions which enables us, under the dis..
guise of reverence, to make Scripture mean what ,ve
please. Nothing that can be said of the greatness or
sublinlity, or truth, or depth, or tenderness, of many
passages, is too much. But that greatness is of a
simple kind; it is not increased by double senses, or
systems of types, or elaborate structure, or design. If
every sentence was a mystery, every word a riddle,
every letter a syn1 bol, that would not Inake the Scrip..
tures more ,vorthy of a Divine author; it is a hea..
thellish or Rabbinical fancy ,vhich reads them in this
way. Such complexity ,vould not place them above I
but belo,v human compositions in general; for it
would deprive them of the ordinary intelligibleness
of human language. It is not for a Christian theo..
logian to say that ,vords ,vere given to mankind to
conceal their thoughts, neither ,vas revelation given
them to conceal the Divine.
The second rule is an application of the general
principle; 'interpret Scripture from itself' as in other
respects, like any other book written in an age and
country of 'v hich little or no other literature survives,
and about whiell we kno,v almost nothing except
what is derived fronl its pages. Not that all the parts
of Scripture are to be regarded as an indistinguishable
mass. The Old Testament is not to be identified ,vith
the New, nor the Law with the Prophets, nor the
Gospels \vith the Epistles, nor the Epistles of St. Paul
to be violently harnlonized ,vith the Epistle of St.
J alnes. Each \vriter, each successive age, has charac..
teristics of its own, as strongly marked, or more
strongly, than those which are found in the authors
or periods of classical literature. These differences
are not to be lost in the idea of a Spirit from whonl
they proceed or by which they were overruled. And
therefore, illustration of one part of Scripture by
another should be confined to ,vritings of the sanle

Oil the Intel1Jretatioll oj Scripture. 3S3
age and the same authors, except ,vhere the "\vritings
of different ages or persons offer obvious siIllilarities.
It nlay be said further that illustration should be
chiefly derived, not only from the same author, but
froln the sanle "\vriting, or fronl one of the saIne period
of his life. For exanlple, the cOlnparison of St. J Oh11
and the 'synoptic' Gospels, or of the Gospel of St.
John \vith the Revelation of St. John, will tend rather
to confuse than to elucidate the nleaning of either;
"\vhile, on the other hand, the comparison of the
Prophets \\"ith one another, and "\vith the Psalms,
offers n1any valuable helps and lights to the inter-
preter. Again, the conllexion bet\veen the Epistles
written by the Apostle St. Paul about the sanle tinle
(e.g. Romans, I and 2 Corinthians, Galatians,-Colos-
sians,Philippians,Ephesians,-compared \vith ROlnans,
Colossians,-Ephesians, Galatians, &c.,) is far closer
than of Epistles which are separated by an interval of
only a fe\v years.
But supposing all this to be understood, and that
by the interpretation of Scripture from it
elf is l1leant
a real interpretation of like by like, it may be asked,
\vhat is it that "\ve gain from a minute comparison of
I a particular author or writing? The indiscrÏ1ninate
use of parallel passages taken from one end of
Scripture and applied to the other (except so far as
earlier con1positions lTIay have afforded the material
or the form of later ones) is useless and uncritical.
The uneducated, or inlperfectly educated person ,vho
I looks out the marginal references of the English Bible,
imagining himself in this way to gain a clearer insight
, into the Divine meaning, is really follo\ving the reli-
gious associations of his o"\vn mind. Even the critical
use of parallel passages is not ,vithout danger. For
are ,ve to conclude that an author meant in one place
I ,vhat he says in another? Shall \ve venture to nlend
a corrupt phrase on the nlodel of some other phrase,
which melnory, prevailing over judgnlent, calls up and

384 Oil the Interpretation of Scr[ptllre.
thrusts in to the text? I t is this fallacy Vt 7 hich has
filled the pages of classical ,vriters ,vith useless and
unfounded emendations.
The nleaning of the Canon 'Non nisi eæ Sc'riplztrá
ScripturalJl potes intcrpretari,' is only this, 'That ,ve
cannot understand Scripture without becoming falniliar
with it.' Scripture is a ,vorld by itself, from VtThich
we must exclude foreign influences, whether theological
or classical. To get inside that ,yorld is an effort of
thought and imagination, requiring the sense of a
poet as well as a critic-demanding much more than
learning a degree of original po\ver and intensity of
mind. Anyone who, instead of burying himself in
the pages of the commentators, ,vould learn the sacred
,vritings by heart, and paraphrase them in English,
,viII probably nlake a nearer approach to their true
meaning that he ,vould gather fron1 any comn1entary.
The intelligent mind ,viII ask its o,vn questions, and
find for the most part its own ans\vers. The true use
of interpretation is to get rid of interpretation, and
leave us alone in C0111pany with the author. vVhen
tIle meaning of Greek ,vords is once known, t,he young
student has alnlost all the real materials ,vhich are
possessed by the greatest Biblical scholar, in the book
itself. For aln10st our whole kno,vledge of the Ilistory
of the Jews is derived fronl the Old Testament and
the Apocryphal books, and alnlost our ,vhole kno,v-
ledge of the life of Christ and of the Apostolical age
is derived from the N e\v; whatever is added to thelll
is either conjecture, or very slight topographical or
chronological illustration. For this reason the rule
given above, ,yhich is applicable to all books, is appli-
cable to tIle New Testan1ent n10re than any other.
Yet in this consideration of the separate books of
Scripture it is not to be forgotten that they have also
a sort of continuity. vVe make a separate study of
the subject, the mode of thought, in son1e degree also
of the language of each book. And at length the

On the Interpretation of Scripture. 385

idea arises in our minds of a common literature, a
pervading life, an overruling la\v. It may be com-
pared to the effect of some natural scene in \vhich we
suddenly perceive a harmony or picture, or to the im-
perfect appearance of design which suggests itself in
looking at the surface of the globe. That is to say,
there is nothing Iniraculous or artificial in the arrange-
ment of the books of Scripture; it is the result, not
the design, \vhich appears in them \vhen bound in the
satne Yolunle. Or if \ve like so to say, there is design,
but a natural design \vhich is revealed to after ages.
Such continuity or design is best expressed under SOlne
notion of progress or gro\vth, not regular, ho\vever, but
,vith broken and imperfect stages, \vhich the ,vant of
kno\vledge prevents our minutely defining. The great
truth of the unity of God was there from the first;
slo\vly as the lnorning broke in the heavens, like some
central light, it filled and after\vards dispersed the nlists
of hUlnan passion in \vhich it ,vas itself enveloped.
A change passes over the J e,vish religion fronl fear
to love, froln po\ver to '\visdom, froln the justice of
Goel to the Inercy of God, frolll the nation to the
individual, from this ,vorld to another; froin the
visitation of the sins of the fathers upon the children,
to 'every soul shall bear its o\vn iniquity;' frorn the
fire, the earthquake, and the stornl, to the still s111all
voice. There never ,vas a time after the deliverance
froln Egypt, in ,vhich the J e,vish people did not bear
a kind of ,vitness against the cruelty and licentious-
ness of the surrounding tribes. In the decline of the
Inonarchy, as the kingdoln itself ,vas sinking under
foreign conquerors, \vhether springing from contact
I ,vith the outer ,vorld, or froIll 80111e reaction ,vithin,
the undergro,vth of morality gathers strength; first,
in the anticipation of prophecy, secondly, like a green
plant in the hollo\v rind ofPharisaislll,-and individuals
I pray and conllnune with God each one for hinlself.
.A.t length the tree of life blossoms; the faith in illl-
c C

386 On the Interpretation of Scripture.
mortality which had hitherto slumbered in the heart
of man, intimated only in doubtful \vords (2 Sam. xii.
23; Psalnl 'xvii. IS), or beaming for an instant in
dark places (Job xix. 25), has become the prevailing
belief.
There is an int,erval in the J e,vish annals \vhich ",ve
often exclude from our thoughts, because it has no
record in the canonical \vritings-extenc1ing over about
four hundred years, from the last of the prophets of
the Old Testalnent to the forerunner of Christ in the
N e\v. This interval, about \vhich ,ve kno\v so little,
\vhich is regarded by many as a portion of secular
rat,her than of sacred history, ,vas nevertheless as
fi"uitful in religious changes as any similar period
,vhich preceded. The establishment of the J e,vish
sects, and the ,val'S of the l\Iaccabees, probably
exercised as great an influence on Judaism as the
captivity itself. A third influence was that of the
Alexandrian literature, \v hich ,vas attracting the
J e\vish intellect, at the same tin1e that the Galilæan
zealot ,vas tearing the nation in pieces ,vith the doctrine
that it ,vas la,vful to call 'no luan master but God.'
In contra
t ,vith that ,vild fanaticisnl as ,veIl as ,yith
the proud Pharisee, came One most unlike all that had
been before, as the kings or rulers of mankind. In
an age which was the victim of its o\vn passions, the
creature of its o\vn circumstances, the slave of its o,vn
degenerate religion, our Saviour taught a lesson abso-
lutely free froln all the influences of a surrounding
,,?orld. He made the last perfect revelation of God to
Inan; a revelation not indeed inlmediately applicable
to tIle state of society or the ,,,"orld, but in its truth
and purit.y inexhaustible by the after generations of
men. And of the first application oftlle truth ,vhich he
taught as a counsel of perfection to the actual circum-
stances of mankind, we have the exanlple in the Epistles.
SUCll a general conception of gro,vtll or developnlent
in Scripture J beginning \vith the truth of the Unity

Oil the Inte1pretation of Scripture. 387
of God in the earliest books and ending with the per-
fection of Christ, naturally springs up in our nIinds in
the perusal of the sacred ,vritings. It is a notion of
value to the interpreter, for it. enables him at the sanle
time to grasp the ,vhole and distinguish the parts.
It saves him from the necessity of nIaintaining that
the Old Testalnent is one and the same every,vhere;
that the books of 1\Ioses contain truths or precepts,
such as the duty of prayer or the faith in inIffiortality,
or the spiritual interpretation of sacrifice, ,vhich no
one has ever seen there. It leaves him room enough
to admit all the facts of the case. No longer is he
required to defend or to explain a\vay David's iUIpre-
cations against his enemies, or his injunctions to
Solomon, any more than his sin in the matter of
Uriah. Nor is he hampered y:ith a theory of aCC01l1-
modation. Still the sense of 'the increasing purpose
"T hich through the ages ran' is present to hinl, no-
where else continuously discernible or ending in a
divine perfection. N o,vhere else is there found the
same interpenetration of the political and religious
elenlent-a whole nation, 'though never good for
much at any time,' possessed ,vith the conviction that
it ,vas living in the face of God-in \vhom the Sun of
righteousness shone upon the corruption of an Eastern
nature-the 'fe,vest of all people,' yet bearing the
greatest part in the education of the ,vorid. N o,vhere
I else among the teachers and benefactors of nlankind
I is there any form like His, in whom the desire of the
nation is fulfilled, and' not of that nation only,' but
of all mankind, whom He restores to His Father and
their Father, to His God and their God.
Such a gro,vth or development nlay be regarded as
I a kind of progress fronl childhood to Inanhood. In
, the child there is an anticipation of truth; his reason
is latent in the forn1 of feeling; 1nany words
are used by him which he Ï1nperfectly understands;
he is led by telnporal promises, believing that to be
c c 2

388 On the Interpretation of Scripture.
good is to be happy al,vays; he is pleased by mar-
vels and has vague terrors. He is confined to a
spot of earth, and lives in a sort of prison of sense,
yet is bursting also ,vi th a fulness of childish life:
he in1agines God to be like a human father, only
greater and more awful; he is easily impressed with
solemn thoughts, but soon 'rises up to play' ,vith
other children. It is observable that his ideas of
right and "\vrong are very simple, hardly extending to
another life; they consist chiefly in obedience to his
parents, ,,,,-hose "\vord is his law. As he gro\vs older
he mixes more and more with others; first ,vith one
or t,yO ,vho have a great influence in the direction of
his nlind. At length the \yorld opens upon him;
another ,vork of education begins; and he learns to
discern nlore truly the meaning of things and his re-
lation to men in general. (You may conlplete the
ilnage, by supposing that there ,,-'-as a tinle in his early
days "\vhen he \vas a helpless outcast' in the land of
Egypt and the house of bondage'). And as he arrives
at nlanhood he reflects on his former years, tIle
progress of his education, the hardships of his infancy,
the home of his youth (the thought of\vhich is inefface-
able in after life), and he no,v understands that all this
,vas but a preparation for anotherstateofbeing, in ,vhich
he is to playa part for hinlself. And once 1110re in age
you may i111agine him like the patriarch looking back on
the entire past, ,vhich he reads anew, perceiving that
the events of life had a purpose or result ,,-.-llÏch \yas
not seen at the tinle; they seenl to hilll bound' each
to each by natural piety.'
"Vllicll things are an allegory,' the particulars of
,vhich anyone nlay interpret for himself. For the
child born after the flesh is the symbol of the child
born after the Spirit. 'The la\v was a schoolu1ast.er to
bring nlen to Christ,' anÇl now' ,ve are under a school-
111aster' no longer. The änticipation of truth \y hich
came from without to the childhood or youth of the

On the Interpretation oj' Scripture. 3S9
human race is "\vitnessed to ,vithin; the revelation of
God is not lost but rene"\ved in the heart and under-
standing of the man. Experience has taught us the
application of the lesson in a \vider sphere. And
many influences have conl bined to form the 'after life'
of the ,vorld. "\Vhen at the close (shall we say) of a
great period in the history of man, we cast our eyes
back on the course of events, froln the 'angel of his
presence in the wilderness' to the multitude of peoples,
nations, languages, ,vho are being drawn together by
His Providence-from the simplicity of the pastoral
state in the da,vn of the ,vorld's day, to all the elements
of civilization and kno\vledge which are beginning to
meet and mingle in a comnlon life, ,ve also understand
that \ve are no longer in our early home, to which,
nevertheless, we fondly look; and that the end is yet
unseen, and the purposes of God to\vards the hUInan
race only half revealed. And to turn once more to
the Interpreter of Scripture, he too feels that the
continuous growth of revelation \vhich he traces in
the Old and N e\v Testament, is a part of a larger
whole extending over the earth and reaching to another
,vorld.

3.
Scripture has an inner life or soul; it has also an
outward body or form. That form is language, \vhich
imperfectly expresses our common notions, much more
those higher truths which religion teaches. At the time
when our Saviour came into the world the Greek
language \vas itself in. a state of degeneracy and decay.
It had lost its poetic force, and was ceasing to have
the s\vay over the mind which classical Greek once
held. That is a more inlportant revolution in the mental
history of mankind, than we easily conceive in modern
times, \vhen all languages sit loosely on thought, and
the peculiarities, or idiosyncrasies of one are corrected
by our kno\vledge of another. It may be nunlbered
among the causes ,vhich favoured the gro\vth of

390 On the Interp'retatioJl 0/ Scripture.
Christianity. That degeneracy was a preparation for
the Gospel-the decaying soil in ,vhicll the new ele-
lllents of life were to come forth-the beginning of
another state ofnlan, in which language and mythology
and philosophy \vere no longer to exert the same con-
straining power as in the ancient world. The civilized .
portion of mankind were becoming of one speech, the
diffusion of,,,,hich along the shores of the
Iediterranean
sea made a way for the entrance of Christianity into
the hunlan understanding, just as the Roman empire
prepared the frame\vork of its out"Tard history. The
first of all languages, 'for glory and for beauty,' had
become the 'common' dialect of the l\Iacedonian
kingdoms; it had been moulded in the schools of
Alexandria to the ideas of the East and the religious
wants of J e\vs. Neither was it any violence to its
nature to be made the vellÏcle of the ne,v truths ,vhich
,vere springing up in the heart of lnan. The definite-
ness and absence of reflectiveneSs in the earlier forms
of hUlnan speech, ,vould have ilnposed a sort of limit
on the freedom and spirituality of tIle Gospel; even
the Greek of Plato would have ' coldly furnished forth'
the ,vords of 'eternal life.' A religion ,vhieh ,vas to
be universal required the divisions of languages, as of
nations, to be in some degree broken down. [, Pæna
liJlguaruJn dis}Je?\"iit hO'J}lz71es, dOllUJJl linguaru?Jl in UllltJ)l
collegit.'] But this conlmunity or freedom of language
was accompanied by corresponding defects; it had lost
its logical preciHion; it ,vas less coherent; and more
under the influence of association. It might be COln-
pared to a garment ,vhich allo\ved and yet inlpeded the
exercise of the nlind by being too large and loose for it.
Froin the inner life of Scripture it is time to pass
on to the consideration of this out\vard forln, including
that other frame\vork of modes of thought and figures
of speech which is bet"Teen the t\vo. A kno\vledge
of the original language is a necessary qualification of
the Interpreter of Scripture. It takes away at least

OJZ the Interpretation of Scripture. 391
one chance of error in the explanation of a passage;
it reilloves one of the films ,vhich have gathered over
the page; it brings the meaning home in a more
intimate and subtle \vay than a translation could do.
To this, ho\vever, another qualification should be added,
"rhich is, the logical po\ver to perceive the meaning of
words in reference to their context. And there is a \vorse
fault than ignorance of Greek in the interpretation of
the N e\v Testament, that is, ignorance of any language.
The Greek Fathers, for exan1ple, are far from being the
best verbal commentators, because their kno\vledge of
Greek often leads then1 a\vay from the drift of the
passage. The minuteness of the study in our o\vn day
has also a tendency to introduce)nto the text associa..
tions ,vhich are not really found there. There is a
danger of making words mean too much j refinen1ellts
of signification are dra\vn out of them, perhaps con..
tained in their etymology, \vhich are lost in COffiIllon
use and parlance. There is the error of interpreting
every particle, as though it \vere a link in the argulnent,
instead of being, as is often the case, an excrescence of
style. The verbal critic magnifies his art, \vhich is
really great in Æschylus or Pindar, but not of equal
importance in the interpretation of the silnpler lan-
guage of the N H\V Testament. His love of scholarship
,vill sometimes lead him to impress a false system on
,vords and constructions. A great critic* who has
comnlented on the three first chapters of the Epistle to
the Galatians, has certainly afforded a proof that it is
possible to read the N e\v Testament under a distorting
influence from classical Greek. The tendency gains
support. from the undefined feeling that Scripture does
not come behind in excellence of language any ll10re
than of thought. And if not as in forIner days, the
classic purity of the Greek of the New Testan1ent, yet
its certainty and accuracy, the assumption of \vhich,

* Herman.

392 On the Interpretation of Scripture.

as any other assumption, is only the parent of inaccu-
racy, is still maintained.
The study of the language of the New Testament
has suffered in another way by follo,ying too much in
the track of classical scholarship. All dead languages
which have passed into the hands of grammarians,
have given rise to questions ,vhich have either no
result or in ,vhich the certainty, or if certain, the im-
portance of the result, is out of proportion to the labour
spent in attaining it..
rhe field is exhausted by great
critics, and then subdivided among lesser ones. The
subject, unlike that of physical science, has a limit,
and unless new ground is broken up, as for example
in mythology, or conlparative philology, is apt to
gro"\v barren. Though it is not true to say that ' ,ve
kno,v as llluch about the Greeks and ROlllans as ,ve
ever shall,' it is certain that we run a danger from the
deficiency of material, of "Tasting time in questions
which do not add anything to real kno\vledge, or in
conjectures \vhich nlust al,vays ren1ain uncertain, and
may in turn give ,yay to other conjectures in the next
generation. Littlp points Dlay be of great importance
,vhen rightly deteru1ined, because the observation of
tllem tends to quicken the instinct of language; but
conjectures about little things or rules respecting thelTI
,vhich "\vere not in the mind of Greek authors thelTI-
selves, are not of equal value. There is tl1e scholas-
ticism of philology, not only in the Alexandrian, but
in our o,vn times; as in the middle ages, there ,vas the
scholasticism of philosophy. Questions of lllere
orthography, about ,vhicll there cannot be ,said to
have been a right or ,vrong, have been pursued almost
with a Rabbinical minuteness. The story of the
scholar who regretted 'that he had not concentrated
his life on the dative case,' is hardly a caricature of
the spirit of such inquiries. The form of notes to the
classics often seems to arise out of a necessity for ob.
serving a certain proportion bet\veen the commentary
and the text. And the same tendency is noticeable in

OJl the IJlterpretation qf Scripture. 393
nlany of the critical and philological observations
,vhich are made on the Ne,v Testament. The field
of Biblical criticisl11 is narro,ver, and its materials
nlore fragmentary; so too the minuteness and un-
certainty of the questions raised has been greater.
For exanlple, the discussions respecting the chronology
of St. Paul's life and his second inlprisonment: or about
the identity of James, the brother of the Lord, or in
another departn1ent, respecting the use of the Greek
article, have gone far beyond the line of utility.
There seenl to be reasons for doubting ,vhether any
considerable light can be thro,vn on the New 'resta-
ment from inquiry into the language. Such inquiries
are popular, because they are safe; but their popularity
is not the measure of their use. It has not been
suffieiently considered that the difficulties of the New
Testament are for the most part COl1lmOn to the Greek
and the English. The noblest translation in the
'\\?orld has a fe\v great errors, nlore than half of them
in the text; but 'we do it violence' to haggle over
the ,vords. . 1\Iinute corrections of tenses or particles
are no good; they spoil the English ,vithout being
nearer the Greek. Apparent mistranslations are often
due to a better kno,vledge of English rather than a
,,
ürse kno,vledge of Greek. It is true that the signifi-
cation of a few uncommon expressions, e.g., Ê
ov(1:a,
firLßaÀ
.JJJ, (1VVU7rU)'ÓI1EVOL, K.T.À., is yet uncertain. But
.no result of consequence ,vould follo\v fronl the
attainll1ent of absolute certainty respecting the mean-
ing of any of these. A morepromising field opens to the
illterpreterin the examination of theological terms, such
as faith (7rícrTLÇ), grace (XápLÇ), righteousness (
LKaLo(jíJVf1),
sanctification (
)'La(1J1óç), the la,v (vó,uoç), the spirit
(7rVEVpU), the conlforter (7rUpáKÀY]TOÇ), &c., provided
ahvays that the use of such terms in the N e,v Testa-
ment is clearly separated (I) from their derivation or
previous use in Classical or Alexandrian Greek, (2)
frolll their after use in the Fathers and in systems of
theology. To ,vhich may be added another select

394 On the Interpretation of Scripture.
class of ,vords descriptive of the offices or customs of
th. e Apo
t
lic Church, such as ;\postle (;'7rÓITTOÀO!:), I
BIshop (E7rL<1K07rOÇ), Elder (7rPHJßVTEpOÇ), Deacon and I
Deaconess (ó Kal 1J 8LáKOVOÇ), love-feast (d y á7raL), the
Lord's day (-h KvpLaK
1ípÉpa) , &c. It is a lexi..
logus of these and similar terlns, rather than a lexicon
of the entire Greek Testament that is required.
Interesting subjects of real inquiry are also the com..
parison of the Greek of the New Testau1ent ,vith
modern Greek on the one hand, and the Greek of the
LXX. on the other. It is not likely, however, that
they ,viII afford much more help than they have already
done in the elucidation of the Greek of the Ne,v
Testament.
It is for others to investigate the language of the
Old Testament, to which the preceding remarks are only
in part applicable. [It may be observed in passing of
this, as of any other old language, that not the later
forn1 of the language, but the cognate dialects, must
ever be the chief source of its illustration. For in
every ancient language, antecedent or contemporary
forn1s, not the subsequent ones, afford the real insight
into its nature and structure. It n1ust also be
admitted that very great and real obscurities exist in
the Englisll translation of the Old Testament, ,vhich
even a superficial acquaintance with the original has a
tendency to ren10ve.] Leaving, however, to others the
consideration of the Sen1itic languages which rais

questions of a different kind from the Hellenistic
Greek, ,ve will offer a few remarks on the latter.
Mu('h has been said of the increasing accuracy of our
kno,vledge of the language of the New Testament;
the old Hebraistic method of eXplaining difficulties of
language or construction, has retired ,vithin very
narro,," limits; it Inight probably with advantage be
confined to still narrower ones-[if it have a.ny place
at all except in the Apocalypse or the Gospel of St.
!tiatthe\v J4 There is, perhaps, some confusion between

On the Interpretation of Scripture. 395
accuracy of our kno\vledge of language, and the
accuracy of language itself; which is also strongly
maintained. It is observed that the usages of bar-
barous as ,veIl as civilized nations conforln perfectly to
grammatical rules; that the uneducated in all countries
have certain laws of speech as much as Shakespear or
Bacon; the usages of Lucian, it may be said, are as
regular as those of Plato, even ,vhen they are different.
The decay of language seems rather to \vitness to
the permanence than to the changeableness of its
structure; it is the flesh, not the bones, that begins to
drop off. But such general remarks, although just,
afford but little help in deterlnining the character of
the Greek of the New Testalnent., which has of course
a certain systen1, failing in \vhich it would cease to be
a language. Some further illustration is needed of
the change \vhich has passed upon it. All languages
do not decay in the same manner; and the influence
of decay in the same language n1ay be different in
different countries; \v hen used in writing and in
speaking-when applied to the matters of ordinary
life and to the higher truths of philosophy or religion.
And the degeneracy of language itself is not a 111ere
principle of dissolution, but creative also; ,vhile dead
and rigid in some of its uses, it is elastic and expansive
in others. The decay of an ancient language is the
beginning of the construction of a modern one. 'fhe
loss of some usages gi yes a greater precision and
freedom to others. The logical element, as for example
in the l\Iediæval Latin,will probably be strongest ,vhen
the poetical has vanished. A great moven1ent, like the
Reformation in Germany, passing over a nation, 111ay
give a new birth also to its language.
These remarks may be applied to the Greek of the
New Testalllent, which although classed vaguely under
the ' con1IDon dialect,' has, nevertheless, nlany features
which are altogether peculiar to itself, and such
as are found in no other remains of ancient literature.

396 On the Interpretation of Scripture.
I. It is n10re unequal in style even in the same books,
that is to say, more original and plastic in one part,
more rigid and unpliable in another. There is a 'v ant
of the continuous po'\ver to frame a paragraph or to
arrange clauses in subordination to each other, even to
the extent to ,vhich it ,vas possessed by a Greek
scholiast or rhetorician. On the other hand there is
a fulness of life, 'a new birth,' in the use of abstract
terms ,vhich is not found else,vhere, after the golden
age of Greek philosophy. Almost the only passage
in the Ne,v Testament ,vhich reads like a Greek period
of the time, is the first paragraph of the Gospel
according to St. Luke, and the corresponding ,vords
of the Acts. But the po,ver and meaning of the
characteristic ,,"ords of the New Testan1ent is in
remarkable contrast '\vith the vapid and general use of
the same '\vords in Philo about the same time. There
is also a sort of lyrical passion in some passages (I
Cor. xiii.; 2 Cor. vi. 6-10; xi. 21-33) ,vhich is a new
thing in the literature of the ,vorld; to whicl1, at any
rate, no Greek author of a later age furnishes any
parallel. 2. Thoug}l ,vritten, the Greek of the New
Testament partakes of the character of a spoken
language; it is more lively and simple, and less
structural than ordinary writing-a peculiarity of style
,vhich furtl1er agrees ,vith the circun1stance that the
Epistles of St. Paul ,vere not written ,vith his o,vn
hand, but probably dictated to an amanuensis, and that
the Gospels also probably originate in an oral narrative.
3. The ground colours of the language nlay be said to
be t\VO; first, the LXX. ,vhich is n1odified, secondly,
by the spoken Greek of e
stern countries, and the
differences which Blight be expected to arise bet\veen
a translation and an original; many Hebraisrns ,vould
occur in the Greek of a translator, ,vhich would never
llave come to his pen but for the influence of the work
whicll he ,vas translating. 4. To ,vhich may be added
a few Latin and Chaldee words, and a few Rabbinical

On the Interpretation of Scripture. 397
formulæ. The influence of Hebre,v or Chaldee in the
New Testanlen t is for the most part at a distance, in
the background, acting not directly, but mediately,
through the LXX. It has much to do with the
clausular structure and general form, but hardly any-
thing ,vith the grammatical usage. Philo too, did not
kno,v Hebre,v, or at least the Hebrew Scriptures, yet
there is also a 'nlediate' influence of Hebre\v trace-
able in his ,vritings. 5. There is an element of
constraint in the style of the New Testament,
arising frolll the circumstanc
of its authors writing
in a language ,vhich ,vas not their o\vn. This con-
straint sho,vs itself in the repetition of words and
phrases; in the verbal oppositions and anacolutha
I of St. Paul; in the short sentences of St. John.
I This is further increased by the fact that the
, writers of the New Testament were' unlearned men,'
\vho had not the same po,ver of ,vriting as of speech.
J\Ioreover, as has been often renlarked, the difficulty
of composition increases in proportion to the greatness
of the subject; e.g., the narrative of Thucydides is
easy and intelligible, while his reflections and speeches
are full of confusion; the effort to concentrate seems
to interfere ,vith the consecutiveness and fluency of
ideas. Something of this kind is discernible in those
I passages of the Epistles in which the Apostle St. Paul
is seeking to set forth the opposite sides of God's
dealing ,vith nlan, e.g., Romans iii. 1-9; ix., x. ; or in
,vhich the sequence of the thought is interrupt.ed by
the conflict of emotions, 1 Cor. ix. 20; Gal. iv. 11-20.
6. The po,ver of the Gospel over language Inust be
recognised, sho,ving itself, first of all, in the original
and consequently variahle signification of "rords
(7TíGTU;, Xápll;, (J'WTfJPlU), \vhich is also lTIOre conlpre-
hellsive and human than the heretical usage of nlany
of the same terrrls, e.g., -YVWGLC; (kno,vledge), crorþía
(,visdom), KTíGlC; (creature, creation); secondly, in a
peculiar use of some constructions, such as-
LKaLO(J'íJVfJ

898 On the Interpretation of Scripture.

8fOV (rigl1teousness of God), 7ríCTTlÇ 'I1]CTOV XplCTTOV
(faith of Jesus Christ), Év XplCTTi (in Christ), fV eE
(in
God), V7r
p
/.!wv (for us), in which the meaning of the
genitive case or of the preposition almost escapes our
notice, from familiarity \vit.h the sound of it. Lastly, the
degeneracy of the Greek language is traceable in the
failure of syntactical power; in the insertion of pre-
posi.tions to dpnote relations of thought, which classical
Greek \vould have expressed by the case only; in the
olnission of them \vhen classical Greek would have
required them; in the incipient use of ivd \vith the
subjunctive for the infinitive; in the confusion of ideas
of cause and effect; in the absence of the article in the
case of an increasing number of words which are
passing into proper nan1es; in the loss of the finer
shades of differenee in the negative particles; in the
occasional confusion of the aorist and perfect; in exces-
siye fondness for particles of reasoning or inference; in
various forms of apposition, especially that of the
v{ord to the sentence; in the use, sometin1es emphatic,
sometimes only pleonastic, of the personal and de-
monstrative pronouns. These are some of the signs
that the language is breaking-up and losing its
structure.
Our kno\vledge of the New Testament is derived
almost exclusively from itself. Of the language, as
well as of the subject, it n1ay be truly said that "That
other \vriters contribute is nothing in comparison of
that which is gained from observation of the text.
SOlne inferences \vhich lllay be gathered from this
general fact, are the following :- First, that less \veight
should be given to lexicons, that is, to the authority of
other Greek writers, and more to the context. The
use of a ,,"'ord in a new sense, the attribution of a
neuter n1paning to a verb else\vhere passive, (Romans
iii. 9, 7Tpoéx ó p.dJa), the resolution of the compound
into two simple notions; (Galatians iii. I, 7TpOE'Ypá
1]),
these, \vhen the context requires it, are not to be set

OIl the Interpretation of Scripture. 399
aside by the scholar because sanctioned by no kno,vn
exalnples. The same remark applies to grammars as
,yell as lexicons. \Ve cannot be certain that
((i with
the accusative never has the same meaning as
(d ,vitl1
the genitive, (Gal. iv. 13; Phil. i. 15), or that the article
al\\Tays retains its defining pow'er (2 Cor. i. 17; Acts
xvii. I), or that the perfect is never used in place of the
aorist (I Cor. xv. 4; Rev. v. 7, &c.); still less can ,ve
affirm that the latter end of a sentence never forgets the
beginning (Roln. ii. 17-21; v. 12-18; ix. 22; xvi.
25-27 ; &c. &c.). Foreign influences tend to derange
the strong natural perception or renlembrance of the
analogy of our o,vn language. That is very likely to
have occurred in the case of some of the ,vriters of the
N e\v Testament; that there is such a derangement, is a
fact. There is no probability in favour of St. Paul
\vriting in broken sentences, but there is no impro-
I bability ,vhich should lead us to aSSUIne in such
sentences, continuous grammar and thought, as appears
to have been the feeling of the copyists ,vho have cor-
rected the anacolutha. The occurrence of them
further justifies the interpreter in using some freedom
with other passages in which the syntax does not
absolutely break down. "\Vhen 'confusion of t,vo
constructions,' 'meaning to say one thing and finishing
I ,yith another;' 'saying two things in one instead of
disposing them in their logical sequence,' are attributed
to the ..t\._po
tle; the use of these and similar expres-
sions is defended by the fact that more numerous
I anacolutha occur in St. Paul's ,yritings than in any
equal portion of the N e\v Testanlent, and far n10re
than in the ,vritings of any other Greek author of
equal length.
Passing from the grammatical structure, we may
briefly consider the logical character of the language
of the New Testament. Two things should be here
distinguished, the logical forn1 and the logical sequence
of thought. Sonle ages have been relnarkaLle

400 On the Interpretation if Scripture.
for the former of these t\VO cllaracteristics; they have
dealt in opposition, contradiction, climax, pleonasm,
reason ,vithin reason, and the like; mere statements
taking the form of arguments-each sentence seeming
to be a link in a chain. In such periods of literature,
the appearance of logic is rhetorical, and is to be set
do\vn to the style. That is the case with n1any passages
in the New Testament ,vhich are studded with logical
or rhetorical formulæ, especially in the Epistles of St.
Paul. Nothing can be more sinlple or natural tl1an
the object of the writer. Yet' fornls of the schools'
appear (,vhether learnt at the feet of Gamaliel, that
reputed master of Greek learning, or not,) which imply
a degree of logical or rhetorical training.
The observation of this rhetorical or logical element
has a bearing on the Interpretation of Scripture. For
it leads us to distinguish bet\veen the superficial con-
nexion of ,vords and the real connexion of thoughts.
Otherwise injustice is done to the argument of the
sacred ,vriter, ,vho may be supposed to violate logical
rules, of which he is unconscious. For exan1ple, the
argument of ROin. iii. 19, may be classed by the
logicians under some head of fallacy (' Ex aliquo non
sequitur oIllnis') ; the series of inferences ,vhich follo,v
one another in ROin. i. 16-18, are for the most part
different aspects or staten1ents of the sanle truth.
So in Ronl. i. 32 the clÏ1nax rather appears to be an
anticlin1ax. But to dwell on these things interferes
,vith the true perception of the Apostle's n1eaning
\vhich is not contained in the repetitions of -yáp by
,vhich it is hooked together; nor are we accurately to
,veigll the proportions expressed by llis OV p(wov-

ÀÀà Ka
; or 7roÀÀ
p;ÀÀov; neither need \ve suppose
that where ft
V is found alone, there \vas a reason for the
omission of
f, (Ronl. i. 8 ; iii. 2); or that the opposition
of ,yords and sentences is al\vays the opposition of
ideas (Rom. v. 7 ; x. 10). It is true tluit these and sinlÍlar
forms or distinctions of language, admit of translation

On the Lzte1]JretatioJl of Scripture. 401
into English; and in every case the interpreter may
find SOlIle point of vie,v in \vhicll the sinlplest truth of
feeling may be dra\vn out in an antithetical or arcru-
mentative form. But ,,,,hether these points' of view
"rere in the Apostle's mind at the tinle of writing may
be doubted; the real meaning, or kernel, seenlS to lie
deeper and to be nlore ,,"ithin. When ,ve pass from
the study of each verse to survey the ,,
hole at a greater
distance, the forn1 of thought is again seen to be unim-
portant in comparison of the truth \vhich is contained
in it. The same remark may be extended to the
opposition, not only of ,vords, but of ideas, which i

found in the Scriptures generallY1 and almost seems
to be inherent in human language itself. The law
is opposed to faith, good to evil, the spirit to the
flesh, light to darkness, the ,yorld to the believer,
the sheep are set ' on his right hand, but the goats on
the left,,' The influence of this logical opposition
has been great and not al\vays \vithout abuse in prac-
tice. For the opposition is one of ideas only \vhich is
not realized in fact. Experience sho,,"s us not that
there are t,vo clas
es of men animated by t\VO OPpOð-
ing principles, but an infinite number of classes or
individuals fronl the lo,vest depth of misery and sin to
the highest perfection of \ybich human nature is ca-
pable, the best not \vh01ly good, the ,vorst not entire]y
evil. But the figure or nlode of representation changes
these differences of degree into differences of kind.
And we often think' and speak and act in reference both
to ourselves and others, as though the figure \vere
altogether a reality.
Other questions arise out of the analysis of the
modes of thought of Scripture. Unless \ve are \villing
to use ,,,"ords ,vithout inquiring into. their meaning, it i

necessary for us to arrange them in some relation
to our own nlÎnds. rrhe nlodes of thought of the
Old Testalnent axe not the sanle ,,"ith those of the
Ne\y, and those of the Ne\v are only partial1y the
D D

402 On the Interpretation of SCriptll reo
same ,vith those in use anlong ourselves at the present
day. The education of the human nlind nlay be
traced as clearly from the Book of Genesis to the
Epistles of St. Paul, as from Honler to Plato and
Aristotle. "\Vhen \ve hear St. Paul speaking of
'body and soul and spirit,' ""e kno\v that such lan-
guage as this ,vonld not occur in the Books of l\Ioses
or in the Prophet Isaiah. It has the colour of a later
age, in \vhich abstract terms have taken the place of
expressions derived fronl material objects. 1Vhen \ve
proceed further to conlpare these or other ,vords or
expressions of St. Paul with 'the body and nlind,' or
'lllind' and' matter,' \vllich is a distinction, not only of
philosophy, but of common language an10ng ourselves,
it is not easy at once to deternline the relation bet,veen
them. Faluiliar as is the sound of both expressions,
nlany questions arise when \ve begin to c0111pare them.
This is the metaphysical difficulty in the Interpre-
tation of Scripture, which it is better not to ignore,
because the consideration of it is necessary to the
understanding of nlan y passages, an d also because it
may return upon us in the fOI'ln of materialism or
scepticism. To some who are not a,vare ho\v little
,vords affect the nature of things it may seem to raise
speculations of a very serious kind. Their doubts
would, perhaps, find expression in some such excla..
mations as the follo\ving :-' Ho\v is religion possible
when modes of thought are shifting? and ,yords
changing their meaning, and statenlents of doctrine
tllOUgh 'starched' ,vitll pllilosophy, are in perpetual
danger of dissolution from metaphysical analysis ?'
The answer seenlS to be, that Christian truth is not
dependent on the fixedness of modes of thought. The
nletaphysician may analyse the ideas of the n1ind just
as the physiologist may analyse the po\vers or parts
of the bodily frame, yet morality and social life still
go on, as in the body digestion is uninterrupted.
rj
hat is not an illustration only; it represents the fact.

rhough ,ve had no words for mind, n1atter, soul,

On the Interpretation of Scripture.
body, and the like, Christianity ,vould renlain the
sanle. This is obvious, \v hether "'"e think of the case
of the poor, who understand such distinctions very
inlperfectly, or of those nations of the earth, ,vho have
no precisely corresponding division of ideas. It is
not of that subtle or evanescent character \vhich is
liable to be lost in shifting the use of ternlS. Indeed,
it is an advantage at times to discard these ternlS ,vith
the vie"T of getting rid of the oppositions to ,vhich
they gi \ye rise. No metaphysical analysis can prevent
, our taking up the cross and follo\ving Christ,' or !eceiv

ing the kingdonlof heaven as little children. To analyse
I the' trichotomy' of St. Paul is interesting as a chapter
in the history of the human mind and necessary as a
part of BiLlical exegesis, but it has nothing to do "Tith
the religion of Christ. Christian duties may be en-
forced, and the life of Christ may be the centre of our
I thoughts, \vhether ,ve speak of reason and faith, of
soul and body, or of mind and matter, or adopt a Inode
of speech \vhich dispenses with any of these divisions.
Connected \vith the nlodes of thought or represen-
tation in Scripture, are the figures of speech of
Scripture, about ,vhich the same question may be
asked: "'That division can \ve make bet\veen the
figure and the reality?' And the answer seenlS to bp
of the sa111e kind, that "V e cannot precisely dra\v the
line bet\yeen them.' Language, and especially the
language of Scripture, does not admit of any sharp
distinction. The sinlple expressions of one age becon1e
the allegories or figures of another; many of those in
the Ne\",rrestanlent are taken fro111 the Old. But neither
is there anything really essential in the for111 of these
figures; nay, the literal application of many of thenl
has lJeen a great stumblingblock to the reception of
I Christianity. .A recent commentator on Scripture
appears "yilling to peril religion on the literal truth of
. such an expression as ",r e shan be caught up to 111eet
the Lord in the air.' 'V ould he be equaIIy ready to
DD2

404 On the Interpretation of Scripture.
stake Christial1ity on the litel"al meaning of the ,vords>
'\Vhere their ,vorln diethi not, and. the fire is not
queDched ?'
Of ,vllat has been said, this is the sum ;-' That
Scripture, like otll
r books, has one meaning, ,vhich is
to be gathered from itself \vithout reference to tha
adaptations of Fathers or Divines; and ,vithout regard
to a priol.i notions about its nature and origin. It is
to be intel"preted like other books, \vith attention to
the character Qf its authors, and the prevailing state
of civilization and kno\vledge, ,vitll allo\vance for
peculiarities of style and language, and Inoc1es of
thought and. figures of speech. Yet not \vithout a
sense that as ,ve read there gro\vs upon us the
'\vitness of God in the ,vorld, anticipating in a rude
and primitive age the truth that \vas to be, shining
more and nlore unto the perfect day in tIle life of
Christ, which again is reflected from different points
of vie,v in the teaching of His. Apostles.'

4.
It has been a principal aÎ1n of tIle preceding pages
to distinguish the interpretation from the application
of Scripture.. J\fany of the errors alluded to, aris
out
of a confusion of the t,vo. The present is nearer to
us than the past,. the circulllstances ,,
hich surround
us pre-occupy our thoughts; it is only by an effort
that we reproduce the ideas, or events, or persons of
other ages. And thus, quite naturally, ab,l1ost by a
la\v of the hurnan nlind, the application of Scripture
takes the pla.ce of its original Ineaning. And the
question is, not ho,v to get rid of this natural ten.
dency, but 1l0\V ,ve may have the true use of it. For
it c.annot be got rid of, or rather is on
of the chief
instrunlents of religious usefulness in the world:
'Ideas nlust be given
hrough s0111ething; J those of
religion find their natural expression in the ,vords of
Scripture, in the adaptation of ,vhich to another state

On the Interpretation of Scriptu1"'e. 405
of life it is hardly possible that the first intention ùf
the "'Titers should be al\vay's preserveù. Interpreta..
lion is the province of fe'\v; it requires a .finer per-
ception of language, and a higher degree of cultiva...
tion than is attained by the majorìty of mankind.
But applications are made by all, from the philosopher
reading 'God in History,' to the 1)001" 'WOlnan ,,,,110
finds in them a response to her prayers, and the solace
of her daily life. In the hour of death we do no

'\vant critical explanations; in most cases, those to
'Vh0111 they would be offered are incapable of under-
standing them. A fe'\v "vords, breathing the sense of
the \vhole Christian ,vorld, such as 'I know that my
Rec1eelner liveth' (though the exact meaning of them
Inay be doubtful to the Hebrew scholar); (I shall go
to him, but he shall not return to me;' touch a chord
'\vhich vv-ould never be reached by the most
kilful ex-
position of the argulnent of one of St. Paul's Epistles.
There is also a use of Scripture in education and
literature. This . literary use, though secondary to
, the religious one, is not unhnportant. It supplies a
common language to the educated and uneducated, in
which the best and highest thoughts of both are
expressed; it is a medium bet\veen the abstract
notions of the one and the simplè feelings of the
other. To the poor especially, it conveys in the fornl
"hich they are luost capablê of receiving, the lesson of
I history and life. The beauty and power of speech
and ,vriting ,vould be greatly in1paired, if the Scrip-
tures ceased to be known or used among us. The
orator seelns to catch from theln a sort of inspiration;
in the sin1ple ,vords of Scripture "1'hìch he stamps
anew, the philosopher often finds his most pregnant
eXPl.essions. If modern times have been richer in
the ,vealth of abstract thought, the contribution of
earlier ages to the mind of the ,vorld has not been
less, but, perhaps greater, in supplying the poetry of
language. There is no such treasury of instruments

406 On the Interpretation of SCJ 4 ipture.
and materials as Scripture. The loss of Homer, or the
loss of Shakespear, would have affected the ,vhole
series of Greek or English authors ,vho foIl 0 'v. But
the disappearance of the Bible from the books ,vhich
the ,vorld contains, ,vonld produce results far greater;
,ve can scarcely conceive tIle degree in 'v hich it would
alter literature and language-the ideas of the edu-
cated and philosophical, as ,veIl as the feelings and
habits of mind of the poor. If it has been said, ,vith
an allowable hyperbole, tl1at 'Homer is Greece,'
with Inuclllnore truth nlay it be said, that' the Bible
is Christendoln.'
1Ian y by 'v honl considerations of this sort ,viII be
little understood, may, nevertheless, recognise the use
made of the Old Testament in the N e\v. TIle religion
of Christ ,vas first taught by an application of the
words of the Psalms and the Prophets. Our Lord
Himself sanctions tllis application. ' Can there be a
better use of Scripture than that which is n1ade by
Scripture?' , Or any more likely method of teaching
the trutlls of Christianity than that by which they
were first taught?' For it Inay be argued that the
critical interpretation of Scripture is a device almost
of yesterday; it is the vocation of the scholar or
philosopIler, not of the Apostle or Prophet. The new
truth ,vhich was introduced into the Old Testament,
rather than the old truth ,vhich ,yas found there, ,vas
the salvation and the conversion of tlle ,vorld. There
are many quotations from the Psalms and the
Prophets in the Epistles, in ,vhich the meaning is
quickened or spiritualized, but hardly any", probably
none, ,vhich is based on the origina] sense or con-
text. That is not so singular a pheno1l1enon as
may at first sight be imagined. It may appear
strange to us that Scripture should be inter-
preted in Scripture, in. a n1anner not altogether in
agreement with modern criticism; but ,vould it
not be more strange that it should be interpreted
other\vise, than in agreement with the ideas of

On the Llterpretation of Scripture. 407
the age or country in ,vhich it ,vas ,vritten? The
observation that there is such an agreement, leads to
t\VO conclusions ,vhich have a bearing on our present
subject. First, it is a reason for not insisting on the
applications which the New Testament makes of
passages in the Old, as their original nleaning.
Secondly, it gives authority and precedent for the use
of sinlilar applications in our o,vn day.
But, on the other hand, though inter,voven ''lith
literature, though comnlon to all ages of t.he Church,
though sanctioned by our Lorù and His Apostles, it i')
easy to see that such an employnlent of
cripture is
liable to error and perversion. For it lllay not only
receivp a ne,v Ineaning; it may be applied in a spirit
alien to itself. It nlay become the synlbol of fanati-
cism, the cloke of nlalice, the disguise of policy.
Cromwell at Drogheda, quoting Scripture to his
soldiers; the ,yell-kno,vn attack on the Puritans in
the State Service for the Restoration, , Not everyone
that saith unto llle, Lord, Lord;' the reply of the
Venetian Anlbassador to the suggestion of ,V olsey,
that Venice should take a lead in Italy, 'which was
onl!! the Earth is the Lord's and the fulness thereof,'
are exall1ples of such uses. In former times, it ,vas a
real and not an inlaginary fear, that the wars of the
Lord in the Old Testanlent might arouse a fire in the
bosonl of Franks and Huns. In our o,vn day such
dangers have passed a,vay; it is only a figure of
speech when the preacher says, 'Gird on thy s\vord,
o thou 1110st mighty.' The \varlike passions of men
are not roused by quotations from Scripture, nor can
states of life such as slavery or polygamy ,vhich
belong to a past age, be defended, at least in England,
by the example of the Old Testament. The danger or
error is of another kind; lnore subtle, but hardly less
I'eal. For if ,ve are permitted to apply Scripture
under the pretence of interpreting it, the language of
Scripture becomes only a mode of expressing the
public feeling or opinion of our o,vn day. Any

408 Oil tlte IJltel:prelation of SC1.ijJfure.
passing phase of politics or art, or spurious phi-
hUlthropy, may have a kind of Scriptural authority.
The ,vords that are used are the words of the Prophet
or Eyangelist, but ,ve stand behind and adapt thenl to
our purpose. Hence it is necessary to consider the
lÏ1uits and manner of a just adaptation; how much
Inay be allo,ved for the sake of ornament. ho,v far the
Scripture, in all its details, may be regarded as an
allegory of llu111all life - ,,,,here the true analogy
begins-ho,v far the interpretation of Scripture ,vill
serve as a correctiye to its practical abuse.
Trutll seen1S to require that ,ve should separate
n1ere adaptations, from the original meaning of Scrip-
ture. It is not honest or reasonable to confound
illustration ,vith argument, in theology, any n10re than
in other subjects. For exa1l1ple, if a preacher chooses
to represent the condition of a churcll or of an indi-
vidual in the present day, under the figure of Elijah
left alone anlong the idolatrous tribes of Israel, such
an allusion is natural enough; but if he goes on to
argue that individuals are therefore justified in re-
nlaining in what they believe to be an erroneous COllI-
Inunion - that is a mere appearance of argU111ent
,vhich OUgllt not to have the slightest ,yeight ,vith a
nlan of sense. Such a course n1ay indeed be perfectly
justifiable J but not on the ground that a prophet of
the Lord once did so, tV{O thousand five hundred years
ago. Not in this sense were the lives of the Prophets
written for our instruction. There are n1any impor-
tant morals conveyed by then1, but only so far as they
thenlselves represent uniyersal principles of justice
and love. These uniyersal principles tIle)" clothe ,vitlt
flesh and blood; tlley :sho,v them to us ,vritt.en on the
hearts of 111en of like passions ,,"ith ourselves. The
prophecies, again, admit of Inany applications to the
Christian Church or to the Christian life. There is
no harm in speaking of the Church as the Spiritual
Israel, or in using the imagery of Isaiah respecting

On the lillerpretatioJl of 8crllJlure. 409
l\lessiah's kingc10111, as the type of good things to
COlne. But ,vhcn it is gravely urged, that fronl such
passages as
Kings shall be thy nursing fathers,' ,ve
are to collect the relations of Church and State or
,
from the pictorial description of Isaiah, that it is to
be inferred there \viti be a reign of Christ on earth-
that is a mere assunlption of the forms of reasoning
by the in1agination. Nor is it a healthful or manly
tone of feeling \vhich depicts the political opposition
to the Church in our o,vn day, under ilnagery \vhich
is borro\yed fron1 the desolate Sion of the captivity.
Scripture is a.pt to conle too readily to the lips) \yhen
\ve are pouring out our o\vn \veaknesses, or enlarging
on some favourite theIne-perhaps idealizing in the
language of prophecy the feebleness of preaching or
nlÌssions in the present day, or froln the \vant of
sonlething else to say. In ll1any discussions on these
and sin1ilar subjects, the position of the J e,,"ish King,
Church, Priest, has led to a confusion, partly caused
by the use of sin1ilar ,vords in lllodern senses an10ng
ourselves. The J{ing or Queen of England lllay be
called the Anointed of the Lord, but ,ve should not
therefore Ï111ply that the attributes of sovereignty are
the sanle as those ,vhich belonged to ICing David.
All these are figures of speech, the eU1ploynlent of
,vhicll is too con1n10n, and has been injurious to
religion, because it prevents our looking at the facts
of history or life as they truly are.
This is the first step to\vards a lnore truthful use of
Scripture in practice-the separation of adaptation
from interpretation. Noone \vho is engaged in
preaching or in religious instruction can be required
to give up Scripture language; it is the C01l1nlOn ele-
luent in \vhich his thoughts and those of his hearers
luove. But he lllay be asked to distinguish the ,yords
of Scripture frolll the truths of Scripture-the Ineans
frolll the enù. The least expression of Scripture is
\veighty; it aITects the minds of the hearers in a \vay

410 On the Interpretation of ScrÏjJlllre.
that no other language can. 1Vhatever responsibility
attaches to idle \vorùs, attaches in still greater degree
to the idle or fallacious use of Scripture ternlS. And
there is surely a ,vant of proper reverence for Scrip-
ture, ,vhen \ve confound the ,veakest and feeblest ap-
plications of its ,vords ,vith their true lllealling-\vhen
,ve avail ourselves of their natural power to point
thenl against SOlne enenly-,vhen we divert the eter-
nal ,vords of charity and truth into a defence of S0111e
passing opinion. For not only in the days of the
Pharisees, but in our o\vn, the letter lias been taking
the place of the spirit; the least nlatters, of the greatest,
and the prÏ1nary 11leaning has been lost in the secon-
dary use.
Other simple cautions 111ay also be added. The
applications of Scripture should be llarnlonized and,
as it ,vere, interpenetrated ,vith the spirit of the
Gospel, the whole of ,vhich should be in every part;
though the ,vords nlay receiye a ne,v sense, the ne\v
sense ought to be in agreenlent \vith the general truth.
They should be used to bring home practical precepts,
not to send the ilnagination on a voyage of discovery;
they are not tIle real foundation of our faith in another
,vorld, nor can they, by pleasant pictures, aùd to our
kno\vledge of it. They should not confound the acci-
dents ,,,ith the essence of religion-the restrictions
and burdens of the J e\vish la\v ,vith the freedolll of
the Gospel-the things wl1Îch 1\loses allo,ved for the
hardness of the heart, ,vith the perfection of the teach-
jng of Christ. They should avoid the fornl of argu-
ments, or they ,viII insensibly be used, or understood
to mean more than they really do. They should be
subjected to an overruling principle, ,vhich is the heart
and conscience of the Christian teacher, \vho indeed
, stands behind then1,' not to 111ake them the vehicles
of his o,vn opinions, but as the expressions of justice,
and truth, and love.
And here the critical interpretation of Scripture

Oil the hlte1]J1"etatioll of Scri.J]lure. 411

comes in and exercises a corrective influence on its
popular use. "r e have already admitted that criticisnl
is not for the nlultitude; it is not \"hat the Scripture
terms the Gospel preached for the poor. Yet, inùi-
rectly passing fron1 the fe\v to the many, it has horne
a great part in the Reforn1ation of religion. It has
cleared the eye of the mind to understand the ori.
ginal meaning. It ,vas a sort of criticism ,vhich
supported the struggle of the sixteenth century
against the Roman Catholic Church; it is criti-
cisnl that is leaùing Protestants to doubt ,vhe-
ther the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist, \yl1Ïch
has descended froin the san1e period, is really discove-
rable in Scripture. Even the isolated thinker, against
\vhom the religious ,vorld is taking up arlns, has an
influence on his opponents. The force of observa-
tions, which are based on reason and fact, remains
\vhen the tide of religious or party feeling is gone
down. Criticism has also a healing influence in clear-
ing away \vhat n1ay be termed the Sectarianism of
kno\vledge. 'Vithout criticisin it would be inlpossible
to reconcile History and Science \vith Revealed Reli-
gion; they must relnain for eyer in a hostile and
defiant attitude. Instead of being like other records,
subject to the conditions of kno\vledge which existed
in an early stage of the world, Scripture \vould be re-
garded on the one side as the work of organic Inspi-
l.ation, and as a lying inlposition on the other.
The real unity of Scripture, as of nlan, has also a
relation to our present subject. Anlid all the differ-
ences of 1110des of thought and speech ,vl1Ïch have
existed in different ages, of \vhich much is said in our
O1\ T n day, there is a con1n1on elelnent in hUlnan nature
which bursts through these differences and renuLÏlls
unchanged, because akin to the first instincts of our
being. The sirople feeling of truth and right is the
same to the Greek or Hindoo as to ourselves. Ho\y-
ever great may be the diversities of hUll1an clUlracter,

412 On the Interpretation of Scripture.
there is a point at ,vhich these diversities end, and
unity begins to appear. No\v, this admits of an ap-
plication to tIle books of Script,ure, as well as to the
world generally. 1Vritten at many different times, in
more than one language, some of them in fraglnents,
they, too, llave a COffinlon element of ,vhich the
preacher may avail himself. This element is t,vo-
fold., partly divine and partly human; the revelation
of the truth and righteousness of God, and the cry of
the human heart towards Him. Every part of Scrip-
ture tends to raise 'Us above ourselves-to give us a
deeper sense of the feebleness of man, and of the
wisdom and po,yer of God. It llas a sort of kindred,
as Plato ,,"'ould say, ,vith religious trutll every'w'here
in the world. It agrees also ,vith the inlperfect stages
of kno,vledge and faith in 11uman nature, and ans,vers
to its inarticulate cries. The universal trutIl easily
breaks through the accidents of titne and place in
,,"'hicll it is involved. Although we cannot apply
Jewish institutions to the Christian world, or venture
in reliance on sonle text to resist the tide of civilization
on ,vhich ""e are borne, yet it remains, nevertheless, to
us, as ,veIl as to the J e,vs and first Christians, that
, Righteousness exalteth a nation,' and that 'love is
the fulfilling not of the J e,visIl la\v only, but of all
la\v.'
In sonìe eases, ,ve have only to enlarge tIle meaning
of Scripture to apply it even to tIle novelties and
peculiarities of our o,vn tinles. The ,vorld changes,
hut the hun1an heart remains the Sl'tlne; events and
details are different, but the principle by ,,,,hich they
are governed, or the rule by whicIl ,ve are to act, is
not different. "Then, for exaulple, our Saviour says,
" Ye shall kno\v the truth, and the truth shall lllake
you free,' it is not likely that these \vords ,voldd have
conveyed to the minds of the J e\vs ,yllo heard HÎ1n
any notion of the perplexitieð of doubt or inquiry.
Yet ,ve cannot suppose that our Saviour, were He to

Oil lhe hiferprelation of Scr-ÎjJture. 413
con1e again upon earth, ,vould refuse thus to. extend
thenl. The Apostle St. Paul, ,vhell describinO' the
Gospel, ,vhich is to the Greek foolishness, speak
also
of a higher \visdom \vhich is kno\Vll to those ,\ ho are
perfect. Neither is it- unfair for us to apply this pas...
sage to that reconcilelllent. of faith and kno\vledge,
\vhich may be termed Christian philosophy, as the
nearest equivalent to its language in our own day.
Such ,,,"ords, again, as ' 1Vhy seck ye the living anlonO"
the dead?' admit of a great variety of adapt

tions to the circumstances of our o\vn tirne. l\Ianyof
these adaptations have a real gernl. in the n1eaning of
the ,vords. The precept, 'Render unto Cæsar "the
things that are Cæsar's, and to God the things that
are God's,' may be taken generally as expressing t,he
necessity of distinguishing the divine and hunlan--the
things that belong to faith and the things that belong
to. experience. It is \vorth remarking ill the applica-.
tion made of these \vords by Lord Bacon, 'Da fidei
quæ fidei sunt;' that, although the terms are altered,
yet the circumstance that the fOflU of the sentence is
borro\ved froln Scripture gives them point and \veight.
The portion of Scripture ,vhich more than àny
other is inllllediatel y and universally applicable to our
o\vn tilnes is, doubtless, that \vhioh is contained in the
words of Christ Hilnself. The reason is that they are
words of the most universal import. They do not
relate to the CirCUl11stances of the time, but to the
COl1lman life of all mankind. You cannot extract
from them a political creed; only, 'Render unto
Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's>' and' The Scribes
and Pharisees sit in 1\1oses' seat; whatsoever, there-
fore, they say unto you do> but after their ,y.orks do
not
' They present to us a standard of truth and
duty, such as no one can at once and imluediately
practise-such as, in its perfection, no one has fulfilled
in this world. But. this idealisnl does not interfere
\vith their influence as a religious les:5on. Ideals,

414 On the Interpretation of Scripture.
even though unrealized, have effect on our daily life.
The preacher of the Gospel is, or ought to be, aware
that his calls to repentance, his standard of obliga-
tions, his lamentations over his own shortcomings or
those of others, do not at once convert hundreds or
thousands, as on the day of Pentecost. Yet it does
not follow that they are thrown a\vay, or that it would
be well to substitute for them mere prudential or
econonlicallessons, lectures on health or sanitary inl-
provenlent. For they tend to raise men above thenl-
selves, providing them \vith Sabbaths as ,veIl as ,vork-
ing days, giving them a taste of ' the good ,vord of G-od'
and of 'the po\vers of the ,,?orld to come.' Human
nature needs to be idealized; it seems as if it took a
dislike to itself when presented al\vays in its ordinary
attire; it lives on in the hope of becolning better. And
the inlage or hope of a better life-the vision of Christ
crucified-,vhich is held up to it, doubtless has an in-
fluence; not like the rushing mighty "rind of the day
of Pentecost; it may rather be conlpared to the
leaven ' \vhich a woman took and hid in three measures
of meal, till the whole was leavened.'
The Parables of our Lord are a portion of the New
Testament, ,vhich we may apply in the most easy and
literal nlanner. The persons in them are the persons
among \vhom we live and move; there are tilnes and
occasions at \vhich the truths symbolized by them
conle home to the hearts of all \vho have ever been
impressed by religion. 'Ve have been prodigal
sons returning to our Father; servants to \vhom
talents have been entrusted; labourers in the vineyard
inclined to murnlur at our lot, when cOlnpared \yith
that of others, yet receiving every man his due; "\veH-
satisfied Pharisees; repentant Publicans :- we haye
received the seed, and the cares of the ,vorld have
choked it-,ve hope a1so at times that \ve have found
the pearl of great price after s\veeping the housp-\ve
are ready like the Good San1aritall to show kindness

On the Interpretation of Scripture. 415
to all ll1ankind. Of these circu111stances of life or
phases of Inind, which are typified by the parables,
nlost Christians have experience. 'Ve may go on to
apply many of thein further to the condition of nations
and churches. Such a treasury has Christ provided
us of things ne\v and old, ,,
hich refer to all time
and an mankind-may \ve not say in His o\vn \vords-
, Because He is the Son of 1\1 an ?'
There is no language of Scripture ,vhich penetrates
the indi \Tidual soul, and enl braces all the ,vorld in the
arn1S of its love, in the san1e Inanner as that of Christ
HÏ1nself. Yet the Epistles contain lessons ,vhich are
not found in the Gospels, or, at least, not expressed
\vith the same degree of clearness. For the Epistles
are nearer to actual life-they relate to the circun1-
stances of the first believers, to their struggles ,vith
the "
orld without, to their temptations and divisions
fronl \vithil1-their subject is not only the doctrine of
the Christian religion, but the business of the early
Church. .And although their circumstances are not
our circunlstances-\ve are not afflicted or persecuted,
or driven out of the ,vorld, but in possession of the
blessings, and security, and property of an esta-
blished religion-yet there is a Christian spirit \vhich
infuses itself into all circunlstances, of ,vhich they are
a pure and living source. It is illlPossible to gather
fro In a fe\v fraginentary and apparently not al\vays
consistent expressions, ho\v the COlllmunion \vas cele-
brated, or the Church ordered, \vhat ,vas the relative
position of Presbyters and Deacons, or the nature of
the gift of tongues, as a rule for the Church in after
ages ;-such inquiries have no certain ans,ver, and at
the best, are only the subject of honest curiosity. But
the \yords, 'Charity never faileth,' and 'Though I
speak ,vith the tongues of men and of angels, and
have not charity, I am nothing,'-these have a voice
"rhich reaches to the end of tin1e. There are no
questions of meats and drinks no\v-a-days, yet the

416 On the Interpretation of Scripture.
noble ,vords of the ApQstle ren1ain: 'If Ineat n1ake
n1 y brother to offend I \viII eat no flesh \v hile
the ,vorId standeth, lest I make my brother to of.
fend.' l\Ioderation in CQutl'oversy, toleration to,vards
opponents, or erring men1bers, is a virtue ,vhich has
been thought by many to belong to the develop--
ment and not to the origin of Christianity, and \vhich
is rarely found in the commencement of a religion.
But lessons of toleration may be gathered from the
Apostle, ,vhich have not yet been learned either by theo-
logians or by mankind in general. The persecutions
and troubles whicl1 a\vaited the Apostle, no longer
await us; \ve cannot, therefore, ,vithout unrealit.y,
except, perhaps, in a very fe,v cases, appl
opriate h"'is
,vords, 'I have fought the good fight, I have finished
my course, I have kept the faith.' But that other text
still sounds gently ill our ears: '
[y strength is per-
fected in ,veakness,' and' 'v hen I am ,veal\:, then anl I
strong.' 'Ve cannot apply to ourselves the language
of authority in \vhich the Apostle speaks of himself as
an an1bassador for Christ, ,vithout something like bad
taste. But it is not altogether an imaginary hope
that those of us who are ministers of Christ, may
attain to a real imitation of his great diligence, of his
sympathy,vitIl others, and consideration for them--of
his
illi.nguess to spend and be spent in his 1\faster's
serVIce.
SUcll are a fe\v instances of the manner in which
tIle analogy of faith enables us to apply the ,yords of
Christ and His Apostles
,vitll a strict regard to their
original meaning. But the Old Testament has also
its peculiar lessons which are not conveyed '\vith
equal point or force in the New. The beginnings of
hun1an history are themselves a lesson having a fresh-
ness as of the early da,vn. There are forms of evil
against \vhich the Prophets and the prophetical spirit,
of the Law carryon a ,va1'fare, in tern1S almost, too bold
for the way of life of modern times. There, more

On the Interpretation of SCTÍjJtllre. 417
plainly than in any other portion of Scripture, is ex-
pressed the antagonisln of out,vard and in\vard, of
cerelTIonial and moral, of mercy and sacrifice. There
all the masks of hypocrisy are rudely torn asunder, in
,vhich an unthinking ,vorld allo,vs itself to be dis-
guised. There the relations of rich and poor in the
sight of God, and their duties to\vards one another, are
nlost clearly enunciated. There the religion of
suffering first appears-' adversity, the blessing' of
the Old Testalnent, as ,veIl as of the N e\v. There the
SOl'ro,vs and aspirations of the soul find their deepest
expression, and also their consolation. The feeble
person has an inlage of hinlself in the 'bruised reed;'
the suffering servant of God passes into the 'beloved
one, in ,vholn my soul delighteth.' Even the latest
and 1110st desolate phases of the hUlnan 11lind are re-
flected in Job and Ecclesiastes; yet not \vithout the
solenln assertion that 'to fear Clod and keep his COlll-
nlandnlents' is the beginning and end of all things.
It is true that there are exanlples in the Old Testa-
nlent \vhich ,vere not ,vritten for our instruction, anù
that, in some instances, precepts or C0111lnands are at-
tributed to God Hinlself, ,vhich nlust be regarded as
relative to the state of kno\vledge ,vhich then existed
of the Divine nature, or given 'for the hardness of
men's hearts.' It cannot be denied that such passages
of Scripture are liable to nlisunderstanding; the
, spirit of the Old Covenanters, although no longer
appealing to the action of Salnuel, 'he\ying Agag in
pieces before the Lord in Gilgal,' is not altogether
extinguished. And a cOlnnlunity of recent origin in
.Anlerica found their doctrine of polyganlY on the
. Old Testalnent. But the poor generally read the
Bible unconsciously; they take the good, and catch
the prevailing spirit, ,vithout stopping to reason
I \v hether this or that practice is sanctioned by the
custonl or exalnple of
cripture. The child is only
struck by the Í1npiety of the children ,yho mocked the
EE

418 On lhe Intel]Jretation of Sc?ipture.
prophet; he does not think of the severity of the
punishment 'v hic1] is inflicted on them. And the
poor, in this respect, are nluch like children; their
reflection on the 1110rality or i111n10ra1ity of characters
or events is suppressed by reverence for Scripture.
The Christian teacher has a sort of tact by 'v hich he
guides them to perceive only the spirit of the Gospel
every\vhere; they read in the Psalms, of David's sin
and repentance; of the never-failing goodness of God
to hin1, and his never-failing trust in Him, not of his
imprecations against his enen1ies. Such difficulties
are greater in theory anù on paper, than in the
n1anage111ent of a school or parish. They are found to
affect the half-educat.ed, rather than either the poor, or
those "\vho are educated in a higher sense. To be
abo\Te such difficulties is the happiest condition of
human life and kno\vledge, or to be belo,v theln; t.o see,
or think ,ve see, ho\v they may be reconciled ,vith
Divine po\ver and ,visdon1, or not to see how they are
apparently at variance \vith then1.

5.
80111e application of the preceding subject may be
further n1ade to theology and life.
Let us introduce this concluding inquiry \vith t\yO
ren1ar ks.
First, it nlay be observed, that a change in some of
the prevailing DIodes of interpretation is not so 11luch
a n1atter of expediency as of necessity. The original
11leaning of Scripture is beginning to be clearly Ull-
derstood. But the apprehension of the original
J11eaning is inconsistent \vith the reception of a typical
or conventional one. The time ,viII conle \vhen edu-
cated 111en \yill be no n10re able to believe that the
,vords, "Out of Egypt have I called lny son" (l\Iatth.
ii. 15; Hosea xi. I), \vere 'intended by the prophet to
refer to the return of J Qseph and l\lary from Egyp.t,
than they are now able to believe the Ron1an Cathohc
explanation of Gen. iii. 15, 'Ipsa cont2ret caput

On the IJlterpretation of Scripture. 419
tuunl.' They ,viII no In ore think that the first chap-
ters of Genesis relate the sanle tale ,vhich Geology
and Ethnology unfold than they no"T think the Illean-
ing of Joshua x. 12, 13, to be in accordance ,vith
Galileo's discovery.
Fronl the circumstance that in former ages there
has been a four-fold or a seven-fold Interpretation of
Scripture, \ve cannot argue to the possibility of up-
holding any other than the original one in our o\vn.
The 111 ystical explanations of Origen or Philo "rere
not seen to be 111ystical; the reasonings of Aquinas
and Calvin ,vere not supposed to go beyond the letter
of the text. They have no,v become the sUQject of
apology; it is justly said that \ve should not judge the
greatness of the Fathers or Reforiners by their suit-
ableness to our o,vn day. But this defence of them
8ho\ys that their explanations of Scripture are no
longer tenable; they belong to a ,yay of thinking and
speaking 'v hich ,vas once diffused over the \vorld, hut
has no\v passed a\vay. And \vhat \ve give up as a
general principle \ve shall find it Î1npossible to nlain..
tain partially, e. g., in the types of the l\Iosaic La\v
ana the double meanings of prophecy, at least, in any
sense in ,vhich it is not equally applicable to all deep
and suggestive ,vritings.
The saIne observation nlay be applied to the histori-
cal criticisin of Scripture. Froin the fact that Paley
or Butler \vere regarded in their generation as supply-
ing
triumphant ans\ver to the enenlies of Scripture,
\ye cannot argue that their ans,ver \vill be satisfactory
to those \vho inquire into such subjects in our o,vn.
Criticisnl has far more po\ver than it fornlprly had; it
has spread itself over ancient, and even Jllodern, his-
tory; it extends to the thoughts and ideas of Inen as
,veIl as to \vords and facts; it has also a great place in
education. \Vhether the habit of nlind ,,,hich ha

been forlned in classical studies ,vill not go on to
Scripture; ,vhether Scripture can be luade an excep-
EE2

420 01Z the InteJ]JretatioJl of Scri.pture.
tion to other ancient ,vritings, no,v that the nature of
both is nlore understood; ,vhether in the fuller light
of history and science the vie,vs of the last century
,viII hold out-these are questions respecting ,vhich
the course of religious opinion in the past does not
afford the nleans of truly judging.
II. It has to be considered ,vhether the intellectual
forms under ,vhich Christianity has been described
may not also be in a state of transition and resolution,
in this respect contrasting ".,.ith the never-changing
truth of the Christian life. (I Cor. xiii. 8.) Looking
back,vards at past ages, ,ve experience a kind of
anlazell1ent at the nlinuteness of theological distinc-
tions, alld also at their pernlanence. They seem to
haye borne a part in the education of the Christian
,vorld, in an age ,vhen language itself had also a
greater influence than no,v -a-days. It is admitted
that these distinctions are not observed in the K e,v
Testan1ent, and are for the nlost part of a later gro,vth.
But little is gained by setting up theology against
Scripture, or Scripture against theology; the BiLle
against the Church, or the Church against the BiLle.
At different periods either has been a bul,vark against
SOlne fornl of error: either llas tended to correct the
abuse of the other. A true inspiration guarded the
,yriters of the N e\v Testament fronl Gnostic or l\Iani-
chean tenets; at a later stage, a sound instinct pre-
vented the Church from dividing the hun1anity and
Divinity of Christ. It may be said that the spirit
of Christ forbids us to deterInine beyond ,vhat is
,vritten ; and the decision of the council of
Nicæa has been described by an en1inent English pre-
late as 'the greatest misfortune that ever befel the
Christian ,vorld.' That is, perhaps, true; yet a dif-
ferent decision ,vonld have been a greater 111isfortune.
Nor does there seenl any reason to suppose that the
h U111an lllind could have been arrested in its theolo.
gical course. It is a lllistake to inlagil1e th(lt the

OJl the Interpretation 0/ Scr(plure. 421
dividing and splitting of ,vords is o\ving to the de-
pravity of the hUl11an heart; ,vas it not rather an in-
tellectual lllovenlent (the only phenolnenon of proO'ress
then going on anlong men) ,,
hich led, by a so
t of
necessity, sonle to go for\vard to the conlpletion of the
system, ,vhile it left others to stand aside? A veil
"
as on the hunlan understanding in the great contro-
versies ,vhich absorbed the Church in earlier ages;
the cloud "rhich the c0111batants thenlselves raised
intercepted the vie\v. They did not see-they could
not have inlagined-that there ,vas a ,vorld ,vhich lay
beyond the range of the controversy.
And no,v, as the Interpretation of Scripture is re-
ceiving another character, it seems that distinctions of
theology, ,,-hich ,vere in great measure based on old
Interpretations, are beginning to fade away. A change
is observable in the nlanner in ,vhich doctrines are
stated and defended; it is no longer held sufficient to
rest then1 on
exts of Scripture, one, t,vo, or n10re,
,vhich contain, or appear to contain, similar ,vords or
ideas. ffhey are connected 1110re closely ,vith our
moral nature; extrelne consequences are shunned;
large allo,vances are nlade for the ignorance of nlan-
kind. It is held that there is truth on both sides;
about Inany questions there is a kind of union of op-
posites; others are adnlitted to have been verbal only;
all are regarded in the light \vhich is thro,vn upon theln
by church history and religious experience. A theory
has lately been put for\vard, apparently as a defence
of the Christian faith, ,vhich denies the objective cha-
racter of any of them. And thpre are other signs
that tinles are changing, and ,ve are changing too.
It ,,
ould be scarcely p08sible at present to revive the
interest ,vhich ,vas felt less than t\venty years ago in
the doctrine of Baptislllal Regeneration; nor ,vould
the arguments by \vhich it ,vas supported or Ünpugned
have the nleaning ,vhich they once had. The conl-
11lunion of the Lord's Supper is also ceasing, at least

422 On the Interpretation qf Scr(pture.
in the Churell of England, to be a focus or centre of
disunion-
, Our greatest love turned to our greatest hate.'
A sil
nce is observable on some other points of doc-
trine around 'v hich controversies s\varmed a generation
ago. Persons begin to ask ,vhat was the real differ-
ence ,vhicl1 divided the two parties. They are no
longer \vithin the magic circle, but are taking up a
position external to it. They haye arrived at an age
of reflection, and begin to speculate on the action and
reaction, the irritation and counter-irritation, of reli-
gious forces; it is a common observation that 'revi-
vals are not perlnanent;' the movement is criticised
even by those ,vho are subject to its influence. In
the present state of the hunlan nlind, any considera,
tion of these subjects, ,vhether from the highest or
lo,vest or lnost 1110derate point of vie, v, is unfavourable
to the stability of dogmatical systenls, because it rouses
inquiry into the nleaning of \vords. To the sense of
this is probably to be attributed the reserve on mat..
ters of doctrine and controversy ,vhich cllaracterizes
the present day, conlpared \vith the theological activity
of t\venty years ago.
These reflections bring us Lack to the question with
'\vhich vve began-' 'Vhat effect ,viII the critical inter-
pretation of Scril)ture have on theology and on life?'
Their tendency is to sho\v that the result is beyond
our control, and that the ,vorld is not unprepared for
it. :Thlore things than at first sight appear are 11loving
tovvards the same end. Religjon often bids us think
of ourselves, especially in later life, as each one in his
appointed place, carrying on a ,vol'k ,vhicll is fashioned
within by unseen hands. The theologian, too, 111ay
have peace in the thought that he is subject to
he
conditions of his age rather than one of its 1110ving
po\vers. 'Vhen he hears theological inquiry censured
as tending to create doubt and confusion, he kno,ys
very ,veIl that the cause of this is not to be sought III

On the IJlterpretation of Scrl]Jture. -:123
the writings of so-called rationalists or critics ,vho are
disliked partly because they unveil the age to itself;
but ill the opposition of reason and feeling, of the past
and the present, in the conflict bet\veen the Calvinistic
tendencies of an elder generation, and the influences
,vhich even in the same fanlily naturally affect the
young.
This distraction of the hUlnan mind bet,veen adyerse
influences and associations, is a fact ,vhich \ve should
have to accept and 11lake the best of, ,vhatever con-
sequences lllight seenl to follo,v to individuals or
Churches. It is not to be regarded as a l11erel y
heathen notion that 'truth is to be desired for its o\vn
sake even though no' good' result tì'Oll1 it.' As a
Christian paradox it may be said, '\Vhat hast thou
to do ,,,,ith 'good;' fo11o,,- thou )le.' But the Christian
revelation does not require of us this Stoicisll1 in most
cases; it rather sho,vs ho,v good and truth are gene-
rally coincident. Even in this life, there are nUlnber-
less links ,vhich unite nloral good ,,
ith intellectual
truth. It is hardly too n1uch to say that the one i

but a narro\ver forIn of the other. Truth is to the
world 'v hat holiness of life is to the individual-to
man collectively the source of justice and peace and
good.
There a.re many ,vays in which the connexion be-
t,yeen truth and good n1ay be traced in the interpre-
tation of Scripture. Is it a n1ere chilnera that the
different sections of Christenc10111 111ay nleet on the
COlllll1on ground of the N e,v Testament? Or that
the individual n1ay be urged by the vacancy and Ul1-
profitableness of old traditions to nlake the Gospel his
o,vn-a life of Christ in the soul, instead of a theory
of Christ ,,
hich is in a book or "
ritten dO\YI1? Or
that in missions to the heathen Scripture nlay beconle
the expression of universal truths rather than of the
tenets of particular nlen or churches? r:rhat ,vould
l'enlove many obstacles to the reception of Christianity.

424 OJl the IllteJ1Jretation of Scripture.
Or that the study of Scripture nlay have a 1110re Ï111..
portant place in a liberal education than hitherto?
Or that the 'rational service' of interpreting Scripture I
may dry up the crude and drean1Y vapours of religious
excitement? Or, that in preaching, ne\v sources of
spiritual healtll may flo\v fron1 a more natural use of
Scripture? Or that the lessons of Scripture Duty have
a nearer ,vay to the hearts of the poor ,vhen dis-
engaged fronl theological fornlulas? Let us consider
nlore at length SOlne of these topics.
1. No one casting his eye over the nlap of the
Christian w'orld can desire that the present lines of
demarcation should al\vays remain, any n10re than he
,viII be inclined to regard the division of Christians to
\vl1icll he belongs hilnself, as in a pre-enlinent or ex-
clusive sense the Church of Christ. Those lines of
demarcation seen1 to be political rather than religious;
tl1ey are differences of nations, or governlnents, or
ranks of society, 1110re than of creeds or fornls of faith.
The feeling \vhich gaye rise to tl1e1l1 has, in a great
measure, passed a,yay; no intelligent nlan seriously
inclines to believe that salvation is to be found only
in his own denon1ination. Exanlples of this 'sturdy
orthodoxy,' in our o,vn generation, rather provoke a
smile t,han arouse serious disapproval. Yet 111any
experÍ1nents sho\v that these differences cannot be
l1lade up by any fOf111al concordat or schelne of union;
the parties cannot be brought to terll1S, and if they
could, ,vould cease to take an interest in the question
at issue. The friction is too great ,vhen persons are
invited to meet for a discussion of differences; such a
process is like opening the doors and ,vindo,vs to put
out a slunlbering fianle. But that is no reason for
doubting that the divisions of the Christian ,vorld are
beginning to pass a\vay. The progress of politics,
acquaintance ,vith other countries, the gro\vth of
kno\vledge and of 111aterial greatness, changes of
opinion in the Church of England, the present position

On the Illterpretatio'll of ScrÏjJutre. 425
of the Roman Conlnlunion-al1 these l)henonlena sho,v
that the ecclesiastical state of the ,vorld is not destined
to be perpetual. \Vithin the envious barriers \vhich
, divide hUlnan nature into very little pieces' (Plato,
Re]). iii. 395), a con1mon senti]nent is springing up
of religious truth; the essentials of Christianity are
contrasted \yith the details and definitions of it; good
lllen of all religions find that they are nlore nearly
agreed than heretofore. Neither is it inlPossible that
this COlnnlon feeling may so prevail over the acci-
dental circumstances of Christian conlmunities, that
their political or ecclesiastical separation nlay be little
felt. The ,valls ,vhich no adversary has scaled nlay
fall do\vn of thenlselves. 'Ve n1ay perhaps figure
to ourselves the battle against error and moral evil
taking the place of one of sects and parties.
In this 1110Vell1ent, \vhich ,ve should see nlore clear]y
but for the divisions of the Christian world ,vhich
partly conceal it, the critical interpretation of Scrip-
ture \vill have a great influence.
rhe Bible ,vill be
no longer appealed to as the ,vitness of the opinions of
particular sects, or of our o\vn age; it ,vill cease to be the
Lattle field of controversies. But as its true nleaning
is nlore clearly seen, its nloral po\ver ,viII also be
greater. If the out\vard and inward ,vitness, instpacl
of parting into t\VO, as they once did, seenl rather to
blend and coincide in the Christian consciousness, that
is not a source of ,veakness but of strength. The
Book itself, ,vhich links together the beginning anù
end of the hUlnan race, ,vill not have a less ines-
tin1able value because the Spirit has taken the place of
the letter. Its discrepancies of fact, ,vhen ,ve beCOlne
fanlÍliar ,vith then1, ,vill seen1 of little cpnsequence in
con1parison ,vith the truths \vhich it unfolds. That
these truths, instead of floating do\vn the streanl of
tradition, or being lost in ritual observances, have
bèen preseryec1 for ever in a book, is one of the nlan)""
hlessings ,vhich the J e,vish and Christian revelations

426 Oil the IJlteJ1Jretation oj ScrÌjJture.
have conferred on the ,yorld-a blessing not the less
real, because it is not necessary to attribute it to
Iniraculous causes.
Again, the Scriptures are a bond of union to the
,yhole Christian ,vorld. No one denies their authority,
and could all be brought to an intelligence of their
true n1eaning, all might con1e to agree in matters of
religion. r
rhat n1ay seen1 to be a hope deferred, yet
not altogether chimerical. If it is not held to be a
thing impossible, that there should be agreement in
the Ineaning of Plato or Sophocles, neither is it to be
regarded as absurd, that there should be a like agree-
n1ent in the interpretation of Scripture. The disap-
pearance of artificial notions and systems ,viII pave
the ,yay to such an agreement. The recognition of
the fact, that many aspects and stages of re]igion are
found in Scripture; that diflerent, or even opposite
])arties existed in the Apostolic Church; that the first
teachers of Christianity had a separate and individual
l110de of regarding the Gospel of Christ; that any
existing con1111union is neeessarily 11luch n10re unlike
the brotherhood of love in the N e,v Testall1eut than
,ve are "Tilling to suppose - Protestants in S0111e
respects, as lnuch so as Catholics-that rival sects in
our o,vn day-Calvinists and Arn1inians-those ,vho
n1aintain and those ,vho deny the final restoration of
nlan-may equally find texts ,vhich seem to favour
their Tespective tenets (l\Iark ix. 44-+8; Ronlans
xi. 32)-the recognition of these and siu1ilar facts ,viH
make us un"rilling to ill1pose any narro'v rule of reli-
gious opinion on the ever- yarying conditions of the
hun1an 111ind and Christian society.
II. Christian n1issions suggest another sphere in ,vhich
a n10re enlightened use of Bcripture n1ight offer a great
advantage to the teacher. The n10re he is himselfpene-
trated ,yith the uniyersal,spirit of Scripture, the n10re
lIe vlill be able to resist the literal and servile habits
of n1ind of Oriental nations. You cannot transfer

Oil the IJlteJ]Jretalion of ScriJjtllre. 4:2 7
English ways of belief, and alnlost the history of the
Church of England itself, as the atten1 pt is son1etilnes
made-not to an uncivilized people, ready like chil-
dren to receive ne\v in1pressions, but to an ancient
and decaying one, furro\ved with the lines of thought,
incapable of the principle of gro,vth. But you 111ay
take the purer light or elenlent of religion, of ,vllich
Christianity is the expression, and make it shine on
80111e principle in hun1an nature ,vhich is the fallen
inlage of it. You cannot give a people ,vho have
no history of their o\""n, a sense of the Î1nportance
of Christianity, as an historical fact: but, perhaps, that
very peculiarity of their character n1ay Inake thenl
n10re Ï1npressiLle by the truths or ideas of Chris-
tianity. N either is it easy to n1ake thell1 under-
stand the gro\vth of Revelation in successi,Te ages-
that there are precepts of the Old Testament ,vhich
are reversed in the Ne\v-or that 1\lose8 allowed n1any
things for the hardness of n1en's hearts. They are
in one state of the ,vorId, and the nlissionary \yho
teaches thenl is in anuther, and the Book through
,vhich they are taught, does not altogether coincide
,vith either. l\Iany difficulties thus arise ,vhich ,ve
are most likely to be successful in n1eeting, \vhen ,ve
look thenl in the face. To one inference they clearly
point, \vhich is this: that it is not the Book of Scrip-
ture \vhich ,ve should seek to give thenl, to be reve-
renced like the ,-r edas or the l(01'an, and consecrated in
its ,vords and letters, but the truth of the Book,
the n1ind of Christ and His Apostles, in \vhich all
lesser details and differences sh 0uld be lost and
absorbed. ,Ve ,vant to a\vaken in thenl t,he sense
that God is their Father, and they His children;-
that is of 1110re Ï1nportance than any theory about the
inspiration of Scripture. But to teach in this spirit,
the nlissionary should hin1self be able to separate the
accidents fr0111 the essence of relÜÓon; he should be
conscious that the po,,-er of the '--'Gospel resides not

428 On the LlterpretatioJl of Scri.ptltre.
in tIle particulars of theology, but in the Christian
life.
III. It may be doubted ,vhp.ther Scripture has ever
been sufficiently regarded as an elenlent of liberal edu-
cation. Fe,v deem it ,,,"orth ,,'"hile to spend in the study
of it the same honest thought or pains ,vhicll are
besto\ved on a classical author. N or as at present
studied, can it be said alvv"ays to have an eleyating
effect. It is not a useful lesson for the young student
to apply to Scripture, principles ,vhich he "Tould hesi-
tate to apply to other books; to make fornlal recon-
cilements of discrepancies ,vhich he ,,,"QuId not think
of reconciling in ordinary llistory; to divide silnple
words into double nleanings; to adopt the fancies or
conjectures of Fathers and Conl111entators as real
kno,vledge. This laxity of kno,vlec1ge is apt to infect
the judgnlent \vhen transferred to other subjects. It
is not easy to say ho,v much of the unsettlenlent of
Inind which prevails anlong intellectual young nlen is
attributable to these causes; the mixture of truth and
falsehood in religious education, certainly tends to
inlpair, at the age 'v hen it is nlost needed, the early
influence of a religious hon1e.
Yet Scripture studied in a Inore liberal spirit might
supply a part of education ,vhich classical literature
fails to provide. ' The best book for the heart n1ight
also be nlade the best book for the intellect.' The
noblest study of history and antiquity is contained in
it; a poetry ,vhich is also the highest forl11 of nloral
teaching; there, too, are lives of heroes and prophets,
and especially of One ,vholn ,ve do not nan1e ,vith
theIn, because He is aboye then1. This history, or
poetry, or biography is distinguished from all classical
or secular ,vritings by the contemplation of n1an as he
appears in the sight of God. That is a sense of
things into whicl1 \ve must gro,v as ,veIl as reason
ourselves, ,vithout ,vhicll hun1an nature is but a trull-
cated, half-educated sort of being. But this sense or

On the IJzteJ]Jretatioll oj ScrÏjJÜlre. 429
consciousness of a Divine presence in the "
orld, \vhich
seell1S to be natural to the beginnings uf the hUlnan
race, but fades R\Vay and requires to be rene\ved in its
after history, is not to be gathered fronl Greek or
ROl1lan literature, but fron1 the Old and K e\vTestanlent.
And before ,ve can make the Old and Ne\v 'festanlent
a real part of education, we n1ust read them not by
the help of custonl or tradition, in the spirit of apology
ùr controversy, but in accordance ,vith the ordinary
la\vs of hunlan kno\vlec1ge.
IV. Another use of Scripture is that in sermons,
\vhich seelllS to be al1long the tritest, and yet is far
fi 1 0rn being exhausted. If \ve could only be natural and
speak of things as they truly are with a real interest
and not merely a conventional one! The \vards of
Scripture come readily to hand, and the repetition of
them requires no effort of thought in the \vriter or
speaker. But, neither does it produce any effect on
the hearer, \vhich ,viII al\vays be in proportion to the
degree of feeling or consciousness in ourselyes. It
nlay be said that originality is the gift of fe\v; no
Chureh can expect to have, not a hundred, but ten such
preachers as Robertson or N e\Vnlan. But, \vithout
originality, it seenlS possible to nlake use of Scripture
in sernlons in a much more liying ,yay than at present.
Let the preacher n1ake it a sort of religion, 'and proof
of his reverence for Scripture, that he never uses its
\yords \vithout a distinct nleaning; let hilll avoid the
forln of argull1ellt fronl Scripture, and catch the feeling
and spirit. Scripture is itself a kind of poetry, \vhen not
o\""erlaid \vith rhetoric. The scene and country has a
freshness ,vhich 111ay al,vays be rene\ved; there is the
interest of antiquity and the interest of honle or com-
mon life as ,,-rell. 'l'he facts and characters of Scripture
might receive a ne\v reading by being described siInply
as they are. 'The truths of Scripture again \vould
have greater realit)
if divested of the scholastic fornl
in \vhich theology has cast them. 1'he uni v"ersal and

430 On the Interpretation qf ScrijJtltre.
spirìtual aspects of Scripture ll1ight be nlore brought
for\vard to the exclusion of questions of the J e,vish
la\v, or controversies about the sacraments, or exagge-
rated statenlents of doctrines ,vhich seem to be at.
variance ,vith morality. The life of Christ, regarded
quite naturally as of one ',vho ,vas in all points
tenlpted like as ,ve are, yet ,vithout sin,' is also the life
and centre of Christian teaching. There is no higher
ailn \v hich the preacher can propose to himself than to
a,vaken what may_ be termed the feeling of the pre-
sence of God and the Inind of Christ in Scripture;
not to collect evidences about dates and books, or to
familiarize metaphysical distinctions; but to make the
lleart and conscience of his hearers bear hin1 ,vitness
that the lessons ,vhich are contained in Scripture-
lessons of justice and truth-lessons of mercy and
peace-of the need of Ulan and the goodness of God
to him, are indeed not hUlnan but divine.
v. It is tiule to nlake an end of this long disquisition
-let the end be a fe,v nlore ,vords of application to the
circumstances of a particular class in the present age.
If anyone ,vho is about to beC0111e a clergyn1an feels
or thinks that he feels that some of the preceding state-
nlellts cast a shade of trouble or suspicion on his future
,valk of life, ,vho, either from the influence of a stronger
mind than his o,vn, or froll1 some natural tendency in
hinlself, has been led to examine those great questions
,vhicIl lie on the t.hreshold of the higher study of
theology, and experiences a sort of sIu.inking or dizzi-
ness at the prospect ,yhich is opening upon llinl; let
hill1 lay to heart the follo,ving cOll::;iderations :- First,
that he may possibly not be the person ,vho is called
upon to pursue such inquiries. No lnan should busy
hinlself ,vith them \vho has not clearness of mind
enough to see things as they are, and a faith strong
enough to Test in that d
gree ofkno,vledge \vhich God
has really given; or \vho is unable to sppara.te t.he truth
fi
on1. his o,vn religious ,vants and experiences. For
the theologian as ,vell as the philosopher has need of

On the ñzterjJretation oj Scripture. 431
(dry light,' 'unn1ingled ,vith any tincture of the
aflections,' the more so as llÏs conclusions are oftener
liable to be disordered by them. lIe who is of
another temperalnent may find another ,york to do,
w11Ïch is in some respects a higher one. Unlike
philosophy, the Gospel has an ideal life to offer, not to
a fe\v only, but to all. There is one ,vord of caution,
ho\vpver, to be given to those ,vho renounce inquiry;
it is that they cannot retain the right to conden111
inquirers. Their duty is to say ,vith Nicodemus,
'Doth the Gospel condemn any man before it hear
hin1?' although the answer may be only 'Art thou
also of Galilee?' r
rhey have chosen the path of
practical usefulness, and they should ackno\vledge
that it is a narro,v path. For any but a 'strong

"vinln1er' ,vill be insensibly dra\vn out of it by the
tide of public opinion or the current of party.
Secondly, let hi1n consider that the difficulty is not
so great as in1aginatiun sometimes paints it. It is a
difficulty \vhich arises chiefly out of differences of
education in different classes of society. It is a
difficulty ,vhich tact, and prudence, and, l1luch nlore,
the power of a Christian life may hope to surlnount.

Iuch depends on the manner in ,vhich things are
said; on the evidence in the ,vriter or preacher of a
real good ,viII to his opponents, and a desire for the
n10ral ilnprovement of 111en. There is an aspect of
truth \vhich may al,vays be put forward so as to find
a ,yay to the hearts of men. If there is danger and
shrinking from one point of vie\v, from another, there
is frecdoln and sense of relief. rfhe ,videI' conten1-
plation of the religious ,vorld lllay enable us to
adjust our o\vn place in it. The ackno,vledglnent of
churches as political and national institutions is the
basis of a sound governll1ent of them. Criticism itself is
not only negative; if it creates sonle difficulties, it does
a\vay others. It may put us at variance ,vith 3, party or
section of Christians in our O'Yl1 neighbourhooc1. But
on the other hand it enables us to look at aillnen as
,

432 Oil tlte Interpretation of ScrÎjJlure.
they are in the sight of God, not as they appear to
lluman eye, separatpd and often interdicted fron1 each
other by lines of religious demarcation, it divides us
from the parts to unite us to the 'v hole. That is a great
llelp to religious communion. It does away ,vith the
supposed opposition of reason and faith. It thro,vs us
back on the conviction that religion is a personal thing,
in \vhicll certainty is to be slo\vly "von and not assulned
as the result of evidence or testinlony. It places us, in
son1e respects (though it be deemed a paradox to say
so), nlore nearly in the position of the first Christians
to ,vhom the N e\v Testament ,vas not yet given, in
,vhom the Gospel ,vas a living word, not yet enlbodied
in forn1s or supported by ancient institutions.
Thirdly, the suspicion or difficulty ,vhicIl attends
critical inquiries is no reason for doubting their value..
The Scripture no,vhere leads us to suppose that the
circumstance of all n1en speaking well of us is any
ground for suppo
ing that ,ve are acceptable in the
sight of God. And there is no reason ,vhy the con-
denlnation .of others should be ,vitnessed to by our
o\vn conscience. Perhaps it may be true that, o,ving
to tIle jealousy or fear of S0111e, the reticence of others,
tIle tprrorisnl of a fe\v, ,ve may not al\vays find
it easy to regard these subjects ,vith callnness and
judgment. But, on the other hand, these accidental
circulllstances have nothing to do ,vith the question
at issue; they cannot have the slightest influence on
the Ineaning of ,yords, or on the truth of facts. No
one can carry out the principle that public opinion or
church authority is the guide to truth, ,vhen he goes
beyond the limits of his o,vn church or country. That
is a consideration ,vhich may ,veIl ll1ake him pause
before he accepts of such a guide in the journey to
another ,vorld. All the argurnents for repressing in-
quiries into Scripture in :Protestant countries hold
equally in Italy and Spain for repressing inquiries
into nlatters of fact or doctrine, and so for denying
the Scriptures to the COlnmon people.

Oil the Interpretation of Scripture. 433
Lastly, let him be assured that there is some nobler
idea of truth than is supplied by the opinion of man-
kind in general, or the voice of parties in a. church.
Everyone, "\\"hether a student of theology or not, has
need to make ,val' against his prej udices no less than
against his passions; and, in the religious teacher, t11e
first is even more necessary than the last. For, ,vhile
the vices of mankind are in a great degree isolated,
and are, at any rate, reprobated by public opinion,
their prejudices have a sort of communion or kindred
,vith the world without. They are a collective evil,
and have their being in the interest, classes, states of
society, and other influences amid which we live. He
\v ho takes the prevailing opinions of Christians and
decks them out in their gayest colours-,vho reflects
the better mind of the ,vorld to itself-is likely to be
its favourite teacher. In that ministry of the Gospel,
even ,vhen assun1ing forms repulsive to persons of
education, no doubt the good is far greater than the
, error or harm. But there is also a deeper ,vork
which is not dependent on the opiniol1s of men
in ,vhich many elements combine, some alien to
religion, or accidentally at variance with it. That
, ,york can hardly expect to win much popular
I favour, so far as it runs counter to the feelings of re..
ligious parties. But he who bears a part in it may
feel a confidence, ,vhich no popular caresses or religious
I sympathy could inspire, that he has by a Divine help
been enabled to plant his foot somewhere beyond the
waves of time. He may depart hence before the
natural term, ,vorn out ,vith intellectual toil; regarded
,vith suspicion by many of his contemporaries; yet
not ,vithout a sure hope that the love of truth, ,vhich
men of saintly lives often seem to slight, is, neverthe-
less, accepted before God.

F F

NOTE ON BUNSEN'S BIBLICAL RESEARCHES.

SINCE the Essay on Bunsen's Biblical Researches was in type, two
more parts of the 'Bible for tl
e People' have reached England.
One includes a translation of Isaiah, but does not separate the
distinguishable portions in the manner of Ewald, or with the free-
dom which the translator's criticisms would justify. The other
part comprehends numerous dissertations on the Pentateuch, en-
tering largely on questions of its origin, materials, and interpreta-
tion. There seems not an entire consistency of detail in these
dissertations, and in the views deducible from the author's Egypt,
but the same spirit and breadth of treatment pervade both. The
analysis of the Levitical laws, by which the Mosaic germs are dis-
tinguished from subsequent accretions, is of the highest interest.
The Ten Plagues of Egypt are somewhat rationalistically handled,
as having a true historical basis, but as explicable by natural
phenomena, indigenous to Egypt in all ages. The author's tone
upon the technical definition of miracles, as distinct from great
marvels and wonders, has acquired a firmer freedom, and would
be represented by some among ourselves as 'painfully sceptical.'
But even those who hesitate to follow the author in his details
must be struck by the brilliant suggestiveness of his researches,
which tend more and more, in proportion as they are developed, to
justify the presentiment of their creating a new epoch in the
science of Biblical criticism.

R. \V.

THE END.

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1855

Lucretius. By W. Y. SELLAR,
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On Teal1hing English History. By J. A.
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Tennyson's Poems. By G. BRIMLEY, M.A.
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