Skip to main content

Full text of "The contemporary review"

See other formats 


This  is  a  digital  copy  of  a  book  that  was  preserved  for  generations  on  library  shelves  before  it  was  carefully  scanned  by  Google  as  part  of  a  project 
to  make  the  world's  books  discoverable  online. 

It  has  survived  long  enough  for  the  copyright  to  expire  and  the  book  to  enter  the  public  domain.  A  public  domain  book  is  one  that  was  never  subject 
to  copyright  or  whose  legal  copyright  term  has  expired.  Whether  a  book  is  in  the  public  domain  may  vary  country  to  country.  Public  domain  books 
are  our  gateways  to  the  past,  representing  a  wealth  of  history,  culture  and  knowledge  that's  often  difficult  to  discover. 

Marks,  notations  and  other  marginalia  present  in  the  original  volume  will  appear  in  this  file  -  a  reminder  of  this  book's  long  journey  from  the 
publisher  to  a  library  and  finally  to  you. 

Usage  guidelines 

Google  is  proud  to  partner  with  libraries  to  digitize  public  domain  materials  and  make  them  widely  accessible.  Public  domain  books  belong  to  the 
public  and  we  are  merely  their  custodians.  Nevertheless,  this  work  is  expensive,  so  in  order  to  keep  providing  this  resource,  we  have  taken  steps  to 
prevent  abuse  by  commercial  parties,  including  placing  technical  restrictions  on  automated  querying. 

We  also  ask  that  you; 

+  Make  non-commeicial  use  of  the  files  We  designed  Google  Book  Search  for  use  by  individuals,  and  we  request  that  you  use  these  files  for 
personal,  non-commercial  purposes. 

-I-  Refrain  from  aiiToniated  querying  Do  not  send  automated  queries  of  any  sort  to  Google's  system:  If  you  are  conducting  research  on  machine 
translation,  optical  character  recognition  or  other  areas  where  access  to  a  large  amount  of  text  is  helpful,  please  contact  us.  We  encourage  the 
use  of  public  domain  materials  for  these  purposes  and  may  be  able  to  help. 

+  Maintain  attribution  The  Google  "watermark"  you  see  on  each  file  is  essential  for  informing  people  about  this  project  and  helping  them  find 
additional  materials  through  Google  Book  Search.  Please  do  not  remove  it. 

-I-  Keep  it  legal  Whatever  your  use,  remember  that  you  are  responsible  for  ensuring  that  what  you  are  doing  is  legal.  Do  not  assume  that  just 
because  we  believe  a  book  is  in  the  public  domain  for  users  in  the  United  States,  that  the  work  is  also  in  the  public  domain  for  users  in  other 
countries.  Whether  a  book  is  still  in  copyright  varies  from  country  to  country,  and  we  can't  offer  guidance  on  whether  any  specific  use  of 
any  specific  book  is  allowed.  Please  do  not  assume  that  a  book's  appearance  in  Google  Book  Search  means  it  can  be  used  in  any  manner 
anywhere  in  the  world.  Copyright  infringement  liability  can  be  quite  severe. 

About  Google  Book  Search 

Google's  mission  is  to  organize  the  world's  information  and  to  make  it  universally  accessible  and  useful.  Google  Book  Search  helps  readers 
discover  the  world's  books  while  helping  authors  and  publishers  reach  new  audiences.  You  can  search  through  the  full  text  of  this  book  on  the  web 


athttp:  //books. google,  com/ 


THE 


CONTEMPORARY 
REVIEW 


VOLUME    I.     JANUARY— APRIL,    1866 


ALEXANDER    STRAHAN,    PUBLISHER 

LONDON    AND    NEW    YORK 

1S66 


^\ 


LONDON- : 
J.    AND  W.    RIDER,    PRINTERS,    BARTHOLOMEW  CLOSE. 


,••: :    :     •  :  •.: :  ■  .:  :.•:  .". 


CONTENTS. 


I. 

PAOB 

I.  BiTUALiNH  AXD  THB  EcctESiASTiCAL  Law.     By  Benjamin  Shaw,  M.A.         .         1 
II.  The  Philosophy  op  ths  Coxditiomkd  :  Sir  Williah  Hahiltom  axd  Joh.i 

Stcaht  Miu.        ........      31 

III.  9I0DEEX  Gbeecb.     By  E.  H.  Bunburj-,  U.A.  .  .  .  .SO 

IV.  Ancilla  DouiKt :  Thoughts  ox  Cuhutiait  Akt.    By  the  Rer.  K.  St.  John 

Tyrwhitt,  M.A 64 

V.  Edicatiox  axd  School  .  .  .  .  .  .  .80 

VI.  Dh.  I*tSBT  ox  Danisl  THB  PuoPiCBT.    By  the  Ror.  J.  J.  Stewart  Perowne, 

B.D 96 

VII.  Inuiax  QuKSTioxa        ........     123 

VIII.  SvxDAT.    By  the  Eev.  E.  H.  Plumptre,  M.A.  .  .  .142 

IX.  Notices  or  Books        ........     169 


IL 

I.  Tub  Philosophy  of  the  Conditiokxd  :  Sib  William  Hamiltox  axi>  John 

Stuakt  Mill        ........  185 

II.  FuEDKuicK  William  Boukbtso:.-.    By  tliu  Rev.  W.  F.  Stereiuoa    .            .  22i> 

III.  CowocATiox  .........  250 

IV.  Bbckbt  LiTKBATDBK.     By  the  Rev.  Canon  RobertBon             .             .             .  270 

V.  Fbbmcu  ^erawttcB.    By  Edward  Dowden   .....  279 

VI.  Chubch  GovEiufMEXT  IK  THE  CoLoxiEs.     By  tlio  Bev.  W.  H.  Fremantle, 

M.A. 311 

VII.  XuncBH  OF  Books      ........  34;t 


I.  B.VTI0XAL1BSI.    By  tho  Rev.  Principal  Tulloth  .  .361 

II.  MoDEBX  Pohtbait  Painti.io.     By  Lowes  Dickinsoa               .             .             .  385 

HI.  Tub  Euccatiok  of  'Wohb!!.     By  the  Bev.  Thomas  Morkby,  M.A.    .           .  396 
IV.  Theoiw&x  Parkbb  and  Ambbican  Umtahiahish.    By  the  Rev.  Professor 

Cheetham  .........  41^ 

V.  Chubch  Hyun-Books              .......  434 

VI.  Thb  Freest  Church  iw  CHBUtraKDOM.    By  a  ClGr^man  of  that  Church    .  450 
VII.  MoDBRX  Theories  coxcbbniko  the  Lipb  of  j£.-sus.     By  J.  A,  Donter, 
D.D.,  Berlin 


VIII.   XOTES  PBOM  IREI.AND 
IX.   KuTES  FROM  BOKB 

X.  KoTicBS  or  Books 


473 
48tl 
499 
fi04 


vi  Contents. 


IV. 


PAOB 


I.    UKirBBSITT    ReFOBX    IX    BELATION   TO    ThXOLOOICAI.    StUDY,        By    C.     P. 

Eeichel,  D.D.     ........    618 

II.  Dh.  rvBEY's  Eirenicon.     By  the  Dean  of  Weattninatcr        .  .  .     631 

III.  Cbete.     By  E.  H.  BunLurj-,  M.A.    .  .  .  .  ,661 

IV.  Pabtooal  Wobk.     By  the  It«v.  W.  G.  Humphry,  M.A.      .  .  .668 
V.  The  CossciENCE  CuirsE.     By  theEeT,  E.  H.  Plumptre,  M.A.        .  ,     677 

VI.  Obioiseb  Evakoelicf,.  .......     604 

VII.  Deax  Stanley  ok  the  Hebrew  Einob  axd  PaoPHETti.     By  J.  S.  HowBon, 

D.D 616 

VIII.  POLITICO-EccI-EHIABTirAI.  QUESTIONS  07  THE  Bat  IN   Italy.      By  tho  BeT. 

Levis  M.  Hogg,  U.A.     .  .  .  .  .  .642 

Title  am>  Ixdsx. 


THE  CONTEMPORARY  REVIEW. 


RITUALISM  AND  THE  ECCLESIASTICAL  LAW. 


Th^  Dirfctoritim  Aii(lUeanum ;  brtnff  a  Manual  nf  DireeHont  /or 
the  Rifikt  Ctldrralion  of  tke  Ilotf  Communion,  far  the  Sa/rtt^  of 
Mallm  and  Eittuon//.  and  for  the  Frrformanrt  of  othrr  Rilet  and 
Cerrmoniet  <tf  iht  Church,  aeconUng  to  the  Ancient  Ute  of  the  Church 
of  England.  tf'Uh  plan  of  Chancel,  and  iUuetmtlon*  of  "ccA 
Omammie  t^  the  Church,  aiid  of  the  Minitten  thereof,  at  all  Hmet 
of  their  Mlnittratton,  [lu]  *  thalt  be  retained,  and  be  In  tui.  Of  vtre  in 
Ihli  Church  of  England,  by  the  authority  of  Parliament,  in  the  tecond 
near  0/ the  reiffn  of  Kfn^  Edieard  VI."  Second  Edition,  reriwd.  Kdit«<l 
bj  the  RsT.  Pekdirick  GcoitOB  Lbb,  D.C.L.,  ttc.    London,  1B65. 

Cathoiie  Ritual  in  Iht  Church  of  England,  Scriptural,  RtaionabU, 
Lmr/ul.  B7  BiCHARD  Frkduuck  Littlkdalb,  M.A.,  LIiJ>., 
Priett  of  the  Engliih  Cliarch.    Becond  Edition.    London,  1860, 

The  Cam  of  tt'etlcrlon  againtt  Itddell  [clerh)  and  Home  and  otSeri, 
St.  PauCt,  Kni/lhtibHdffti  and  Btal  agaimt  LldOell  (clerk]  and  Parlie 
and  Emm,  St.  Bamal>ae,  Plmlicoi  at  heard  and  determined  bf  the  Con- 
rlilorr  Court  of  LoTulon,  the  Archri  Court  of  Canlcrburf,  and  Iht 
Judicial  Commillfe  oj  Uer  Majett^t  Mott  Uonourabit  Privf  Council. 
B7  Edmund  F.  Moobb,  Emi.,  M.A-,  Bwriiter«t-Law.    London,  1S5T. 

^^HANKS  to  popular  writers  on  the  Constitution,  from  De  Lobne 
J-  to  Mr.  Allmny"  Foublanque,  most  of  us  can  give  some  answer 
to  the  question,  "  How  are  we  governed  ?"  But  to  the  ordinary 
everj'-day  Englishman  a  mist  still  hangs  over  one  department. 
Kcclesiastical  law  is  to  him  a  sort  of  Cahala — a  thing  to  be  revered 
or  scoffed  at,  according  to  the  turn  of  his  mind  and  his  politics, 
Wt  in  any  case  a  thing  incomprehensible.  This  is  the  more  to  be 
regretted,  because  controversies  as  to  Church  rites  and  ceremonies 
have  for  some  years  been  prevalent,  and  have  excited  much 
attention. 

•  Sie. 
VOL.  I.  B 


2  TJie  Contemporary  Review. 

We  venture  to  think,  therefore,  that  we  shall  do  some  service  to 
many  worthy  persons  if  we  seek  to  tlirow  some  light  upon  this 
subject,  to  indicate  the  rules  and  authorities  by  which  such  controver- 
sies are  decided,  and  afterwards  to  apply  them  to  a  specific  instance 
by  way  of  illustration. 

But  we  must  premise  a  few  words  as  to  the  way  in  whicJi  the 
disputes  now  so  rife  on  such  subjects  have,  as  we  conceive, 
arisen. 

It  is  well  known  to  most  persons  of  the  present  genei-ation  that 
after  the  great  political  changes  thirty  years  ago,  when  it  seemed 
likely  that  the  connection  between  Church  and  State  would  be  less 
intimate  than  in  former  days,  the  minds  both  of  clergy  and  laity  were 
naturally  driven  back  upon  the  Divine  origin  and  commission  of  the 
Church.  In  proportion  as  Government  patronage  was  l&ssened  or 
withdraivn,  the  clei-gy  especially  sought  to  recall  the  gi'eat  I'act  that 
the  Church  existed  independently  of,  and  anterior  to,  its  alliance  with 
the  State.  For  this  purjiose  they  set  themselves  to  trace  out  afresh 
its  historical  continuity,  tlu'ough  all  the  changes  of  secxdar  events, 
from  patristic  times  down  to  the  uineteentli  century. 

Now  it  is  obvious  that  the  continuous  existence  of  a  visible  and 
corporate  body  is  usually  to  be  established  by  tracing  those  outwaitl 
signs  and  acta  wliich  are,  so  to  speak,  the  tokens  of  its  life.  Accord- 
ingly, much  stress  came  to  he  laid,  not  only  on  the  sacraments,  and 
on  the  succession  of  the  episcopate,  but  on  many  minute  jwints  of 
ritual,  by  means  of  which  a  legitimate  ecclesiastical  descent  from  the 
earlier  ages  was  thought  to  be  established.  But  in  the  conduct  of 
the  argimient,  when  pressed  to  this  extreme,  a  difficulty  arosa  The 
English  ritual,  as  understood  and  practised  thirty  years  ago,  was  by  no 
means  in  complete  accordance  with  that  which  careful  inquiries  showed 
to  have  prevailed  in  certain  previous  ages.  For  this  diflficidty,  however, 
a  solution  was  at  once  proposed.  The  Church  of  England  was  a 
branch  of  the  Catholic  Church;  her  reverence  for  antiquity,  and 
her  adherence  to  all  that  was  deemed  catholic,  distinguished  her  from 
the  Protestant  boilies  by  whom  she  was  surrounded.  Hence,  to  prove 
that  any  rite  was  generally  practised  in  ancient  times  was,  per  sc, 
to  establish  its  claim  to  be  sanctioned  and  revived. 

In  many  cases  the  rites  in  question  witnessed  to  doctrines ;  this 
was,  in  fact,  their  highest  meaning  and  value.  Hence  by  degrees  the 
doctrines  in  question  came  into  favour  likewise,  and  witli  many  minds 
formed  a  powei-ful  reason  for  contending  more  strenuously  for  the 
rites  themselves. 

It  was  early  foreseen  by  many  that  questions  of  so  much  import- 
ance, and  which  threatened  to  change  so  materially  the  outward  face 
of  the  Church,  must  soon  demand  an  authoritative  decision.    And  for 


Ritualism  and  the  Ecclesiastical  Law»  3 

many  of  them,  tlie  only  way  to  obtain  such  a  decision  was  to  subaiit 

them  to  the  judgment  of  the  Ecclesiastical  Courts. 

Of  those  Courts  society   in  general,   some  years   ago,   knew  and 

thought  even  less  than  now.     The  opponents  of  the  movement  of 

which  we  have  been  speaking  had  little  love  for  them.     Perhaps 

their  notions  on  the  subject  could  not  be  better  expressed  than  in 

the  langu^e  of  their  favourite  poet,  Gowper,  who,  after  speaking  of 

the  heavy  rod  laid  upon  our  forefathers  by  Eome,  concludes  with  the 

words, — 

"  And  to  this  hour,  to  keep  it  fresh  in  mind. 
Some  twigs  of  the  old  scourge  ore  left  behind ;" 

"  which,"  he  adds  in  a  quiet  note,  "  may  be  found  at  Doctors' 
Commons." 

The  promoters  of  the  movement,  on  their  part,  would  probably,  in 
the  first  instance,  have  preferred  to  leave  the  decision  to  the  bishops 
personally.  But  some  prelates  hesitated  to  express  an  opinion ; 
others,  though  sufficiently  decided,  were  not  unanimous.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  most  recent  cause  cdW^re  in  the  Court  of  Arches  had 
taken  a  turn  which  seemed  to  bode  well  for  the  movement  party. 
The  decision  in  Breaks  v.  Woolfrey  was  popularly  said  to  have 
legalized  prayers  for  the  dead.  Much  might  be  hoped  for  from  such 
a  tribunal. 

Breeks  v.  "Woolfrey  was  followed  after  a  few  years  by  Mastin  v. 
Escott,  and  though  in  that  case  a  clergj-raan  was  censured  for 
refusing  to  bury  a  child  baptized  by  a  Wesleyan  minister,  still  the 
decision  mainly  asserted  the  validity  of  lay  baptism, — a  doctrine  which 
the  Church  of  Eome  herself  did  not  deny ;  while  the  weight  attached 
by  the  Court  to  ancient  precedents  and  authorities  was  in  unison  vni\\ 
the  feelings  of  the  ritualist  divines. 

Before  long  the  two  great  schools  or  parties  in  the  Church  came  to 
a  direct  issue  before  the  Courts  of  Law  in  the  famous  stone  altar  case 
(Faulkner  v.  Litchfield).  In  that  case  IVIr.  Faulkner,  the  vicar  of  the 
l)ari3h  of  St  Sepulchre,  in  Cambridge  (whose  church  was  then  under- 
going restoration),  opposed  the  grant  of  a  faculty,  or  licence,  which 
was  applied  for  by  the  churchwardens,  to  authoiize  a  stone  altar  and 
credence  table.  The  cause  was  heard,  in  the  first  instance,  before  the 
Chancellor  of  the  Diocese  of  Ely,  assisted  by  an  ecclesiastical  advocate 
as  bis  assessor.  Those  who  have  the  curiosity  to  refer  to  the  report 
contained  in  the  British  Magazine  for  August,  1844,  will  be  struck  by 
the  summary  manner  in  which  the  question  appears  to  have  been 
decided  Judging  from  the  account  there  given,  it  would  seem  that 
the  ailment  on  behalf  of  the  vicar  met  with  but  little  attention,  and 
that  his  opposition  was  treated  by  the  Comt  almost  as  if  it  were  the 
result  of  ignorance  or  prejudice.    And  this  was  nothing  more  than 


4  The  Contemporary  Rtuiew. 

very  commnnly  took  place  at  tbat  pericHl.  Stronjif  in  the  knowleflge 
of  Uie  Fathers,  to  which  their  oppom^ats,  generally  qieakiug,  cotiIiI 
make  little  claim,  the  ritualists  were  apt  to  treat  all  gaiiisiiyers  as 
ill-informed,  nfiiTow-minJed  pprgnns.  Anil  to  some  lixtt.'nt  tliny  had 
indueed  society  in  getipral  tn  adopt  the  same  view.  Bat  a  chi).ii;^'B  was 
at  band.  The  yicar  appealed  to  tlie  Court  of  Arehea,  and  after  a  very 
leanied  ai^imeut,  judgment  wa.s  pronounced  ou  the  31st  January, 
1845.  By  that  elabumtt!  judgment,  which  occupies  nolesia  than  eighty 
pages  of  Dr.  Eoburtaou's  Eccleaiastical  Reports,  the  decree  of  tha 
Court  heluw  was  revei^eii,  and  the  ratification  of  the  altar  and 
credence  table  I'el'useii.*  From  this  decision  no  appeal  was  made. 
An  opinion  of  counsel  waa  indeed  published  at  the  time,  to  the  elfect 
thjit,  if  made,  it  must  be  auccessfiU,  but  this  opinion  was  not  acted 
upon,  and  subseipient  events  have  shown  it  to  he  erroneous,  at  least 
in  respect  to  the  altar,  as  wu  shall  see  hereafter. 

The  result  of  tliis  great  case  was.  very  marked.  It  showed  with  tha 
utmost  clearness  that  whatever  theologians  might  do  in  the  study, 
a  jud;^e  in  a  Court  of  Law  could  not  ignore  the  great  fact  of  the 
liefonuation. 

The  Dean  of  the  Arches  declared  that  "it  woidd  not  have  satisfied 
the  puiiiose  for  which  the  alteration  was  made  (t.  c,  in  the  time  of 
Edwanl  VI.)^  merely  to  change  the  name  of  altar  into  tabk.  The  old 
Buperstitinus  notions  would  have  adhered  to  the  minds  of  the  simple 
people,  and  woidd  have  continued  so  long  as  they  saw  tlie  altar,  on 
wliicli  they  hail  been  used  to  consider  a  nul  sacrifice  was  nflered.  Fur 
these  i-easons  I  consider  a  substantial  altcmtiou  of  the  structure  was 
made."     (1  Rolieiisonj  p.  225.) 

AVlien  a  judge  thus  dealt  not  only  with  the  fact  of  a  change,  hut 
wth  the  reasons  of  it,  and  gave  effect  tn  those  reasons  as  .^tdl  in  force, 
and  as  proper  to  influence  bis  judicial  conduct,  it  was  obvious  that 
ecclesiastical  rites  were  not  to  Ijo  justified  by  a  simple  regard  to  their 
nntiriuitj',  or  witliout  refei^nce  tn  their  relation  both  to  the  letter  and 
spirit  of  what  Look  place  at  the  lieformation. 

jigaiji,  the  following  passage  occurs  in  the  jndginont: — "As  I 
understand  the  question,  it  is  one  sin^ply  of  the  construction  of  the 
rubric  (ffid  Book  of  Common  Prayer,  wldch  are  incoqjorsted  into  the 

•  The  flbKrvfttinn  has  HOnietimesbcen  madp.  ihivC  thmigh  the  Court  refuMdloniLify  the 
ullrir  U  did  not  Htvci  ita  reiunvol.  No  strew  Is  Co  bu  laid  «n  tlue  point.  The  fumt  of  t^B 
ilotrrcu  vna  detenniiieil  by  the  ahape  in  whwh  tlie  niRtte?  was  lirought  belbre  tbu  Court. 
This  ii*  oiplainud  by  Sir  JoLa  DodKon,  in  Weslurlon  v.  Liddpll.  Hw  says,  BpctOting  of  Mi 
jiri-docoaaur,  who  decided.  l-'milkniBr  i'.  Litehflold, — "  It  waa  not  comiietcint,  uiidtT  the  pir» 
otimstnnccs  of  tlif)  Ajijieal,  to  pi  furtli^f  ;  but  ihote  CO-D  bo  na  doubt,  if  the  suit  l>eforo  him 
Itai  been  for  the  reniarnJ  of  tKe  altar,  bfl  muat  have  diji;rted  it.  Tliu  whole  tenor  .of  liia 
jnnlffuicnt  puts  iliat  out  of  all  poaaibilitT  of  d&ubt."  (Mooif's  ReiK)rt  of  Weaieiloa  c. 
Uddi-U.  p.  no.) 


Ritualism  and  t/ie  Ecclesiastical  Law.  5 

Statute  of  Uniformity  passed  in  the  13  &  14  Charles  II.,  and  of 
the  canons  which  were  passed  in  1603,  and  of  that  number,  the  82nd, 
which  more  particularly  applies  to  the  subject.  In  proceeding  to  con- 
sider this  statute,  the  Court  must  proceed  precisely  in  the  same  manner 
as  it  would  in  construing  other  Acts  of  Parliament."    (1  Bob.,  p.  198.) 

This  indicates  that  the  enactments  and  authorities  of  the  sixteenth 
and  seventeenth  centuries  usually  have  a  far  more  direct  bearing  on 
disputed  questions  of  English  ritual,  than  citations  from  ecclesiastical 
historians  or  patristic  writers. 

It  goes  further ;  it  shows  that  such  authorities  will  be  constraed 
according  to  the  received  rules  of  legal  exposition — rules  which  are 
the  product  of  great  acuteness,  and  of  wide  experience  in  the  business 
of  interpretation,  but  with  the  nature  and  effect  of  which  non-pro- 
fessional minds  seldom  have  an  exact  acquaintance. 

For  some  years  no  question  of  a  similar  kind  came  before  the  Courts. 
The  case  of  Mr.  Oakley,  and  the  Gorham  case,  as  pertaining  to 
doctrine,  not  to  ritual,  do  not  f^l  within  the  limits  of  this  paper. 

But  in  1855,  disputes  having  for  some  time  prevailed  respecting 
certain  articles  of  church  furniture  in  the  churches  of  St.  Paul, 
Knightsbridge,  and  St.  Barnabas,  Piinlico,  two  suits  were  brought 
in  the  Consistory  Court  of  the  Diocese  of  London  in  relation  thereto.* 

The  one  was  brought  by  Mr.  "Westerton,  one  of  the  churchwardens 
of  St.  Paul's,  against  Mr.  LiddeU  the  incumbent,  and  Mr.  Home 
the  other  churchwarden,  and  had  for  its  object  the  removal  of  the 
alUir  or  liigh  altar,  with  the  cross  elevated  thereon  and  attached 
thereto,  as  also  tlie  removal  of  the  gUded  candlesticks  and  the  candles 
thepein  (which  were  alleged  to  be  placed  one  on  each  side  of  the 
cross  upon  the  altar),  the  credentia  or  credence  table,  and  also  of  the 
several  divers  coloured  altar  coverings. 

The  other  suit  was  brought  by  Mr.  BeaJ,  an  inhabitant  of  the 
district  chapeliy  of  St.  Barnabas,  against  Mr.'  LiddeU,  the  incumbent 
and  perpetual  curate,  and  Messrs.  Parke  and  Evans,  the  chapel- 
wardens. 

In  tliis  suit,  the  altar  (which  in  this  case  was  fixed,  and  of  stone) 
and  other  articles,  as  at  St.  Paul's,  were  objected  to ;  and  moreover, 
exception  was  taken  to  a  wooden  screen  separating  the  chancel  from 
tlie  body  of  the  church,  having  a  laige  cross  fixed  thereon,  and  brazen 
gates  with  locks ;  and  to  a  linen  altar  cloth,  ornamented  with  lace  and 
embroidery.  Tlie  Court  was  also  asked  to  direct  that  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments should  be  put  up  at  the  east  end  of  the  church. 

Both  suits  were  argued  together,  and  in  December,  1855,  Dr. 
Lushington  pronounced  judgment   at  great  length.     He  considered 

*  Our  aathority  thronghout  is  the  elaborate  Report  of  !ifr.  Moore.    Longmans,  1867> 


6  The  Coniemporary  Review. 

that  as  wliftt  was  stylui:!  tliG  altfir  in  St.  Paul's  Clmrch  Traa  in  fact 
of  wood,  and  capable  of  being  iiioved,  tliough  massive  and  liighly 
cai-vieH,  it  was  not  necessaiy  to  pronounce  it  to  be  contraiy  to  Inw. 
He  nJso  peniiitteJ  tho  camllesticka  to  renifiin. 

But  lie  diiected  the  trass  and  credence  table  to  "be  removed,  togetber 
with  the  ■varions  cb)ths  for  covering  the  communion  tultle,  and  ordered 
the  substitution  of  one  only  covering  of  silk  or  other  decent  atnft" 
Coming  to  the  caae  of  St  Bamabjis,  the  decree  ordered  the  removal  of 
the  strnctiu'G  of  stone  used  as  a  commnniou  table^  whicli  was  to  Ijc 
replaced  by  a  moveable  table  of  wood.  The  cross  upon  it,  as  well 
03  tliat  upon  the  chancel  screen,  were  to  be  taken  away.  As  regards 
the  cloths  aud  coverings,  and  the  credence  table,  a  similar  order 
was  made  to  that  with  regard  to  .St.  Paul's ;  aud  it  was  fuiiher  directed 
that  the  Ten  Commandments  were  to  be  set  up  at  the  east  end  of  the 
chureh.  As  regarded  the  chancel  screen  (ind  gate-s,  the  learned  Judge 
stated  that  he  was  not  satisfied,  under  all  the  circimistauces,  that  they 
were  contrary  to  law,  at  the  same  time  declaring  tliat  iu  his  opinion 
such  SGpamtiuua  between  the  chaneul  and  nave  WL're  objeetiunable, 
and  that  he  would  not  advise  a  bishop  to  consecrate  a  clnu-ch  fitted  up 
according  to  that  example.  But  he  said  it  wjw  a  different  thing  lo 
pi.ill  down.     They  were  therefore  allowed  to  stand. 

Sf]-.  Westerton  did  not  appcul  against  this  decree  in  respect  of  T\'hat 
it  suffered  to  reiuain,  but  Mr.  LiddeU  did  so  forthwith  in  resiject 
of  what  it  disallowed. 

The  CoTirt  of  Arches  sustained  the  judgment  of  the  Consistory 
Court  in  all  reSpects,  tho^igh  on  somewhat  different  gronuds.  There- 
upon a  further  appeal  took  place  to  the  Judicial  Committee  of  the 
rFi\'y  Council. 

Tliis  Court  modified  in  some  particulars  the  decision  of  the  Courts 
below.  In  res'].>cct  to  cresses,  thi?ir  Lordships  were  of  ojiinion  that 
crosses,  "wheaaiaed  as  mere  emblems  of  the  Christian  faitb,  and  not 
as  ohjectfl  of  suijcrstitious  revcTencc,  might  still  lawftdly  be  erected 
as  architectural  decorations  of  churches,"  and  as  tlicy  held  the  wooden 
cross  nn  the  chancel  screen  to  be  of  this  natim.^  they  rtiversed  the 
decree  for  its  removal.*  But  they  confirraed  the  order  fur  the  remo-\TiI 
of  the  stone  altar,  and  of  the  cross  theren[ion,  considering  that  the 
existence  of  a  eruaa  attached  to  thn  table  was  consistent  neither 
with  the  spirit  nor  the  letter  of  the  regidations  in  force  as  to 
communion  tables. 

Credence  tables  had  been  disallowed  by  the  other  Coui'ts  in  con- 

•  The  propriety  of  the  acrccn  ite*If  was  not  licfore  them.  Dr,  Luahinpton  had  doclinod 
to  onler  Jta  removal,  nud  liia  judf^mpnt  wa*  not  Hppedli'd  a^nel.  Hence  the  queBtion  haa 
iiut  b^Q  uniler  the  cooaidcratloii  of  iLay  hig'hEr  trlliuaal  than  lh«  Conaistary  Court  gf 
Louden. 


Ritttalism  and  the  Ecclesiastical  Law.  7 

fonnity  with  the  previous  case  of  Faulkner  n.  Litchfield.  It  had  been 
deemed  that  they  were  unauthorized,  and  were  connected  with  the 
notion  of  an  altar.  Their  Lordships  thought  otherwise,  and  explained 
and  sanctioned  their  use  in  these  words : — 

"What  ia  a  credence  tabled  It  is  simply  a  small  side  table,  on  which 
the  bread  and  wine  are  placed  before  the  consecration,  having  no  connection 
with  any  superstitious  usage  of  the  Chiurch  of  Eoma  Their  removal  has 
been  ordered,  on  the  ground  that  they  are  adjuncts  to  an  altar  :  their  Lord- 
ships cannot  but  think  that  they  are  more  pro])erly  to  be  regarded  as 
adjuncts  to  a  communion  table.  The  rubric  directs  that  at  a  certain 
point  in  the  course  of  the  Communion  Service  (for  this  is,  no  doubt,  tho 
true  meaning  of  the  rubric)  the  minister  shall  place  the  bread  and  wino 
on  the  communion  table ;  but  where  they  are  to  bo  placed  previously  is 
nowhere  stated.  In  practice  they  are  usually  placed  on  the  communion 
table  before  the  commencement  of  the  service,  but  this  certainly  is  not 
according  to  the  order  prescribed.  Nothing  seems  to  be  less  objectionable 
than  a  small  side  table,  from  which  they  may  bo  conveniently  reached  by 
the  officiating  minister,  and  at  the  proper  time  transferred  to  the  conunnnion 
table.  As  to  the  credence  tables,  their  Lordships,  therefore,  must  advise  a 
reversal  of  the  sentence  complained  of."  • 

In  respect  to  the  embroidered  cloths,  the  sentence  was  also  reversed, 
on  the  ground  that  the  covering  used  need  not  be  always  the  same, 
and  that  whether  the  cloths  so  used  were  suitable  or  not  was  a  matter 
to  be  left  to  the  discretion  of  the  ordinary.  Howe\'er,  as  r^arded 
the  embroidered  linen  and  lace  used  at  the  time  of  communion  at 
St.  Barnabas,  their  Lordships  did  not  dissent  from  the  decision  that 
they  were  inconsistent  with  the  rubric.  In  tliis  particular,  therefore, 
the  decree  was  af&rmed. 

Thus  ended  this  great  case.  Like  Paulkner  v.  Litchfield,  it  was  not 
favourable  to  extreme  ritualism,  especially  when  such  ritualism  is 
r^arded  as  the  expression  of  a  special  system  of  doctrine.  Tliere  is 
a  studied  tone  of  moderation  about  the  judgment  of  the  Judicial 
Committee.  Yet  the  result  was  to  condemn  stone  altars ;  to  sanction 
the  cross  merely  as  an  ornament  or  decoration  of  a  church  (disallowing 
it  when  fixed  on  tlie  communion  table) ;  to  leave  the  general  question 
of  cloths  and  coverings  in  the  hands  of  the  ordinary  (tliereby  autlior- 
izing  him  to  interfere  if  he  saw  cause) ;  to  insist  that  the  "  fair  white 
hnen  cloth "  used  at  the  communion  should  be  of  a  plain  and  sini[de 
character ;  and  whUe  sanctioning  the  credence  table,  to  lay  it  down 
with  unmistakeable  explicitness,  tliat  it  was  only  sanctioned  because 
capable  of  a  use  and  meaning  having  no  connection  with  any  super- 
stitious usage  of  the  Churcli  of  Itome,  and  to  be  deemed  an  adjunct, 
not  to  an  altar,  but  to  a  communion  table. 

It  ought  to  be  mentioned,  that  three  years  later  an  application  was 
made  by  Mr.  Beal  to  the  Judicial  Committee,  on  the  ground  that 

*  Moore's  Report  of  Westeitou  v.  Liddell,  p.  187. 


a 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


their  sentence  biul  not  been  6xAy  obeyed  as  legarded  St.  Baniabfts.* 
It  Tvag  alleged  that  the  cross  which  waa  formerly  attached  to  the 
aiiper-altar  on  the  stone  altar  had  indctsd  been  removed  thence,  but 
was  still  TCtaiaed  on  the  sill  of  tlii;  ^Teat  Cfi^tcm  winduw.  And 
fiirtherf  that  the  talile  which  had  been  substituted  for  the  stone  altar 
waa  not  a  flut  table,  but  had  an  devation  or  structiire  placed  thereon, 
so  as  t*)  resemble  what  is  known  as  a  suj^njr-altar  in  liuinaii  Catholic 
churchea.  There  was  also  an  objection  as  to  the  place  in  which 
thtr  Cominamhnents  hiid  been  set  up.  The  words  of  the  sentence,  it 
must  Ije  obstiiTed,  were  "  to  remove  the  structure  of  st-one  used  as  a 
couimunion  table,  tot,'ether  with  the  crass  on  or  near  to  the  same,  and 
to  proindu  inBtead  thereof  a  flat  moveable  table  of  wood." 

The  Court  considered  lliat  these  dii'ectious  had  been  substantially 
complied  with ;  they  said : — 

"The  stuni.'  tablci  hna  liwii  iiUogcthi?r  removed,  lUid  %Fith  it  the  cro33 ;  hut 
the  cross  has  Iwcn  ]ilnt."(.'d  iii  uuoUiier  part  of  tlie  church  ur  chapel,  not  in 
aiiy  seiLSL'  ujion  tlje  table  wliich  has  been  substituted  tor  the  stuDU  taMe, 
nor  ill  any  st-nsti  in  cunmniuicatiuii,  or  contact,  or  connection  with  it^f  It 
reniains  in  tlie  church  as  an  ornaineut  of  the  clmrchj  and  their  Lordships 
think  (if  tho  woid  nmy  Ti.^sj»ect fully  be  apphed  to  such  a  subject),  not  Utt 
"UUUBUal  or  impniiHjr  ornauieut;  in  no  seiiss  remainitig  tliere  so  as  to  dis- 
obey or  conflict  with  tlie  ordw  containeti  in  this  mouitiyji," 

Their  Lordships,  dcsciibed  the  other  matter  compkinetl  of  as  "a 
moveable  ledge  of  wood,  for  the  purpose  of  holding  candlesticks  and 
vessels  ;^at  least  that  is  the  purpose  for  which  it  is  used.  It  is  not," 
the  judf;nient  cuntinuGd,  "fixed  tn  the  tabic.  If  remaining  there  when 
the  cloth  is  to  be  placed  npou  the  table  for  the  puipose  of  the  adiui- 
mstration  of  the  Lortl's  Supjier,  as  it  would  int^ifere  v.dth  that,  it  is 
accortlingly  removed,  and  the  dotli  is  placed  upon  the  table,  and  then 
tliB  ledj,'e  re}jlaced.  It  ia  not  slwrni.  and  then'  Lordships  tldidc  it 
ouffht  not  to  be  inferred,  tiiat  there  is  auythino;  superstitions  (if  the 
term  may  be  iised)  or  anytliing  improper  in  the  addition  of  that  ledge. 
But,  even  if  there  were,  their  I^iordsbips  are  not  satisfied  that  it  is 
within  the  terms  of  this  monitiou,  or  that  the  monition  in  any  sense 
or  respect  exttjnds  t<j  it.  But  in  whatever  w«y  that  matter  be  taken, 
their  Lfirdship,!?  think  that  neither  disobedience  nor  oUUnce  is  eatalj- 
lishcd  with  ifyard  to  tliat  liiovORble  ledge,"  It  wrts  also  held  that  the 
manner  in  which  the  Comm&ndLueuts  were  set  up  was  sufficient. 


^ 


•  Mr.  Beat  u^cJ  Ida  ok-h  ease.  It  ii  to  be  regjettcd  thai  (to  Court  itd  not  tic 
uiistance  of  tho  argTimciita  ol'  couubi^I.  Tlio  taso  is  reported  in  U  Itooro*  P.  C.  Heports, 
p.  1. 

t  These  voTd«i  it  mity  be  uotieed  in  poeaiiig,  abow  \vs  different  a  kqh  tho'  Court  puta 
un  ita  foimtT  judpnieiit  /rDm  tlst  which  Is  lUBigncd  tu  it  in  CKc  "  Direttoritim  Angli- 
cnniiui."  The  nulhor  oF  that  »-ort  aasf^rts  Ihnt  'Cast  judgment  "permitteJ  the  altar  cross, 
toillje  not/jfrf/'     ("Direct.,"  p.  2(9,  2nd  Edition.) 


Ritualism  and  the  EccUsiastkal  Law.  9 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  tbat  the  Judicial  Committee,  not  having 
crigiiud  jurisdiction,  but  being  merely  a  Court  of  Appeal,  and  the  appeal 
having  been  exhausted  by  the  prior  sentence,  the  only  question  legally 
before  them  on  this  application,  was  whether  the  sentence  in  question 
had  been  carried  out.  Hence  the  only  points  open  to  them  were.  What 
were  the  terms  of  the  monition ;  and  had  they  been  obeyed  ?  It  would 
seem  difficult  for  any  one  to  contend  that  they  had  not,  at  least  in  their 
literal  sense.  Any  irregularity  not  expressly  complained  of  in  the 
suit  (if  such  there  were)  must  have  been  made  the  subject  of  a  new 
proceedings  commencing  in  the  Court  below*  Meanwliile,  it  is  te  be 
gathered  that  their  Lordships  upheld  the  distinction  in  principle 
between  the  cross  as  a  mere  decoration  of  a  church,  and  as  standing 
in  any  connection  with  the  rites  of  Divine  service.  As  regards  the 
qjther  matter,  Mr.  Liddell  had  expressly  pleaded  that  "  the  elevation  or 
structure  alleged "  was  "  simply  a  moveable  ledge  of  wood,  placed,  in 
order  that  two  candlesticks  might  stand  thereon,  at  the  back  of  the 
table."  +  "We  now  proceed  to  say  something  as  to  that  system  of 
ecclesiastical  law  which  guided  the  decisions  above  mentioned,  and 
which  they  inteipreted  and  enforced. 

Previously  to  the  Keformation,  the  Church  had  two  principal  codes. 
One  of  these  was  the  Canon  Law  of  Rome,  at  least  so  far  as  accepted 
and  adopted  in  this  country.  For  it  is  laid  down  by  our  great 
lawyers,  that  it  never  bound  in  this  realm  by  its  own  power,  but  only 
in  respect  of  such  acceptance  and  adoption.]: 

The  other  code  was  composed  of  the  legatine  and  provincial  con- 
stitutions and  canons,  made,  from  time  to  time,  by  legates  or  arch- 
bishops in  synods  over  which  they  presided  in  Englaud.§  Thes^ 
together  with  a  certain  unwritten  and  customary  jurisdiction,  formed 
the  bulk  of  the  ecclesiastical  law  in  respect  to  all  questions  of  rites 
and  ceremonies. 

Now  by  the  Act  25  Hen.  VIIL,  c.  19,  it  was  enacted  that  the  King 
shoidd  have  power  to  nominate  a  mixed  commission  of  clergy  and 
laity,  to  consist  of  thirty-two  persons,  to  revise  these  provincial  con- 
stitutions aad  canons,  and  to  abolish  such  as  they  should  not  approve. 

*  There  is  some  reason,  therefore,  for  doubtmg  whether  007  exprcfls  and  binding  deci- 
tton  u  to  the  "  ledge"  has  ever  been  given. 

t  liddell  r.  Beat :  14  Moore's  P.  C.  Beports,  p.  1. 

J  "  The  civil  and  canon  laws,  eonaidercd  with  respect  to  any  intrinBic  obligation, 
have  DO  force  or  authority  in  this  kingdom  ;  they  are  no  more  binding  in  England  than 
(tor  laws  are  binding  at  Rome.  But  ba  far  as  these  foreign  laws,  on  account  of  some 
pecoliar  propriety,  have,  in  some  partLculai  cases,  and  in  some  particular  Courts,  been 
introdaccd  and  allowed  by  our  laws,  so  &r  they  oblige,  and  no  farther,  their  authority 
bring  wholly  founded  upon  that  permission  and  adoption." — (1  filackat.  Comm.,  p.  14  ; 
and  see  p#r  Tindal,  C.  J.,  who  cites  Colce  and  Halo  Xa  the  lihe  efiect;  ^g.  r.  Uillis, 
10  CI.  and  Finn.,  634.) 

{  There  wei«  also  certain  laws  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  monarchs  touching  Church  matters. 


lO 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


And  by  a  proviso  nt  the  end  of  the  Act  it  was  "  provided  that  such 
oaDOUS,  CDUBtitutions,  ordiuatices,  and  Bjnodals  pioviucul,  being 
already  made,  wliicli  be  not  contrariant  or  repugnant  to  the  la'ws, 
statutes,  and  customs  of  this  realm,  nor  to  the  dania^e  or  hurt  of  the 
King's  premj^tive-royal,  shall  now  still  be  used  and  executed  aa  they 
were  afore  tho  making  of  this  Act,  till  such  time  as  they  V  viewed, 
Bearchetl,  or  otherwise  ordered  and  determined  by  the  said  two- 
and-thii"ty  persons,  or  the  more  part  of  them,  according  to  the  tenor, 
form,  and  effect  of  this  present  Act." 

No  commission  having  been  issued,  a  later  Act  (27  Hen.  XTII., 
c.  15)  continues  the  power  to  the  King,  but  limita  the  sittings  of  the 
commiasionera  to  a  t«nn  of  three  yenrs  next  after  tlie  dissolution  of 
the  then  Parliament.  A  still  later  Act  (^5  Hen.  VIII.,  c.  l(i)  renews 
the  power,  and  cotdera  it  gn  the  King  for  lil'e.  And  by  the  second 
section  it  is  enacteil,  "tliaii,  till  such  time  as  the  Kind's  jrajeaty  and 
the  said  thirty-t\rn  persons  have  accuniplislied  and  executed  the 
effects  and,  contents  afore  rehearsed  and  mentioned,  such  canons, 
constitutions,  oixlinances  synodal  or  provincial,  or  otiier  ecclesiastical 
laws  or  jurisdiction  spiritual,  iis  be  yet  aceustoiued  and  used  here  in 
the  Church  of  Englauil,  which,  necessarily  and  convenieutly,  are 
requisite  to  he  put  in  use  and  execution  for  the  time,  not  l>eing 
repugnant,  contriirisint,  or  (lemgstOiry  to  the  laws  or  statute.^  of  tho 
realm,  nor  to  the  prerogatives  of  the  Eoyal  Crown  of  the  same,  or 
any  of  thcim,  shall  he  occupietl,  exercised,  and  put  in  use  for  the  time 
witkin  this  or  any  other  tlie  King's  Majesty's  dominions ;  and  that  tlie 
ndnist&rs  and  due  executors  of  them  siiall  not  incur  any  damage  or 
danyer  for  the  due  exercising  of  the  aforesaid  laws,  so  ihat,  hy  no 
colour  or  pretence  of  them,  or  any  of  thein,  the  miiuster  put  in  use 
anj-thing  prejudicial  or  in  contrary  of  the  regal  power  or  law3  of  the 
r*'abn,  anything  whatsoever  to  the  eontraiy  of  this  present  Act 
notwith  atjanding." 

These  words  art)  larger  than  tliose  in  the  first  Act.  Tliey  perhaps 
extend  to  the  unwritten  usages  of  ecclcsiasticid  cum-ts,  and  to  the 
Roman  canon  law,  ao  far  as  received  in  England,  wliich  the  25 
Hen.  VIIL,  c.  19,  did  not. 

Commhisioners  were  appomted  under  this  Act,  lint  nothing  was 
brought  to  completion  before  the  death  oi'  tlie  King  ;  and  the  poM-era 
of  the  Act  having  expired  with  his  life,  it  was  found  needfid  to  pass 
a  similar  one  in  tlio  reign  of  Ids  successoi.  Under  tins  Act  (^  &  4 
Edw.  VI.,  c.  11)  a  commission  was  ap[>ointed,  which  prepai-ed  a  revised 
code  of  ecclesiastical  law,  known  hy  the  name  of  the  "  KefoiTnatio 
Leguiii  EcclesiasLicaruuu"  But  as  this  work  never  received  a  fonnal 
ratification,  it  is  of  no  legal  validity;  and  after  the  trouljles  of  Mary's 
reign  had  passed  away,  the  Legislature,  instead  of  sanctionLng  this 


Ritualism  and  the  Ecclesiastical  Law.  1 1 

code,  simply  revived  the  Act  25  Hen.  VIII.,  c.  19,  and  enacted  that 
it  should  be  deemed  to  extend  to  Elizabeth,  and  her  heirs  and  suc- 
cessors, as  fully  as  to  Henry  VIII. 

Upon  the  whole,  therefore,  it  is  to  be  taken  that  the  power  to  direct 
a  revision  of  the  ancient  provincial  constitutions  and  canons  exista 
in  the  sovereigns  of  the  present  day,  though  not  exercised.  And  the 
proviso  which  sanctions  their  use  until  such  revision  be  made,  being 
also  revived,  they  are  maintained  thereby,  at  this  day,  in  a  certain 
degree  of  force,  subject  to  the  qualifications  which  the  Act  lays  down, 
and  subject  also  to  the  eflfect  of  subsequent  Acts  in  an  milling  or 
superseding  them  in  any  particular  points. 

In  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  various  sets  of  canons  were  framed  by 
Convocation.  Some  of  these,  however,  never  received  the  Royal 
assent  so  as  to  be  binding  at  the  present  day ;  and  those  which 
obtained  it  are,  generally  speaking,  less  important  and  less  frequently 
cit«d  than  those  of  which  we  are  next  to  speak, — the  canons  of  the 
reign  of  King  James, 

These  were  passed  in  the  Convocation  of  Canterbury  in  1603,* 
and  were  afterwards  received  by  that  of  York.  They  were  formally 
sanctioned  by  JamKJ  I.,  and  have  therefore  a  legal  validity.  It  has,  in- 
deed, been  solemnly  decided  that  they  do  not  bind  the  laity,  inasmuch 
as  the  laity  are  not  represented  in  Convocation  ;-f-  but  they  bind  the 
clergy,  as  has  been  admitted  frequently,  even  by  the  temporal  Courts.  J 

Yet  their  validity  is  only  of  a  qualified  kind ;  for,  even  in  eccle- 
siastical matters,  they  are  of  no  force  as  against  an  Act  of  Parliament, 
or  if  contrary  to  the  common  law  of  England.§ 

In  1606  certain  other  canons  were  drawn  up,  but  these  were  never 
approved  by  the  sovereign. 

In  1640,  during  the  troublous  reign  of  Charles  I.,  a  code  of  canons 
was  passed  by  Convocation  and  received  the  Eoyal  assent.  As  to 
these,  the  case  stands  in  a  singular  way.  Not  only  was  a  violent 
opposition  made  to  them  by  the  Parliamentary  party  at  the  time,  but 

*  "  Sometimefl  called  1603,  and  Bometunes  1604,  whiclt  is  oving  to  the  style ;  the  date, 
if  I  recollect,  being  January."  (Lord  firougliaiii,  in  tke  cose  of  Escott  f.  Mastin,  in  the 
Piiyy  Council.) 

t  See  the  great  case  of  Middleton  t'.  Crofta,  Stronge's  IlepOTts,  1056. 

X  Lord  Uardwicko,  in  Middleton  r.  Crofts,  when  denj-ing  their  aathority  over  the 
laity,  nya,  "  It  is  agreed  that  ecclcBiaeticol  ordinances  in  epiritual  matters,  confirmed  by 
the  King,  bind  the  clergy,  being  made  b}'  their  rcprescntatirca  in  Convocation." 

f  Thufl,  in  the  recent  case  of  Finder  v.  Barr  (4  Ell.  and  Black.,  105),  the  Queen's  Bench 
recognised  and  acted  on  the  canon  which  gtToa  the  nomination  of  the  pariah  clerk  to  the 
minister.  There  was  nothing  in  the  cose  to  indicate  any  other  mode  of  appointment  in 
the  parish  in  question.  But  almost  immediately  after  the  canons  were  made,  it  was 
decided,  and  has  ever  since  been  held,  that  where  there  is  on  immemorial  custom  for  the 
pariahionen  to  choose  the  clerk,  such  custom  has  the  force  of  law,  and  must  prevail 
against  the  canon.     (See  Jetmyn's  cose,  Cro.  Jae.,  670 ;  and  13  Rep.,  70.) 


12 


The  Couicmporary  Review. 


even  at  tKe  Bestoratioii  it  Wfis  felt  that  they  could  not  safdy  "be  put 
ill  force.  The  13  Car.  II.,  c.  12,  ■which  estalilisliecl  the  ecclesiastical 
jurisilictifjn  "  acconlinj,'  to  tlie  Kind's  IMajesty'a  ecclesiastical  laws 
used  and  practised  in  tliis  realm,"  coutaiuod  a  prui-iso  at  the  end 
that  it  should  not  estend  "to  confirm  the  canons  made  in  the  year 
1640,  nor  any  of  them,  nor  any  eecleaiasticfil  laws  or  canoiis  not 
fuimecly  coufirined,  allowed,  or  enacted  by  Parliameut,  or  hy  the  estab- 
lished laws  of  the  land,  as  they  stood  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1639." 

It  lias,  indeed,  been  ai^ed  upon  this  clause  that  it  does  not 
extend  to  dastioy  t!ie  proper  force  of  the  cunous.  iu  question,  but  only 
to  refuse  tliem  statutory  autliority.  But  the  point  is  hardly  woith 
examining,  because,  &.&  the  leami-d  Ayhlfe  states  in  Ids  "Paitir^on  Juris 
Canuuici  Ani^licaiii "  (Iiitiwd.,  p.  xxxv.)>  "as  these  canoua  were  then 
censured,  and  seem  tij  have  in  theiix  several  matters  contrary  to  tlie 
rights  of  the  people  and  the  laws  of  the  realm,  they  have  never  beeu 
in  use  sLace,  tbuuyh  they  contain  some  wholusome  doctiines  and 
institutions  in  souie  of  thera."  Tliere  is  no  instance  in  which  any 
Comt  hag  proceeded  upon  the  canons  of  IG-tO,  and  they  are  certainly 
regarded  by  lawy^^rs  as  a  dead  letter. 

These  brief  notices  may  suffice  for  that  portion  of  the  law  of  the 
Eeele'?ia.stical  Com+4  which  consLsts  of  carious.  There  are,  besides, 
certain  injuuctioua  and  proclamations  set  forth  by  Itoyal  authority 
during  the  times  when  the  suprenmcy  was  exercised  in  a  moi-e  direct 
form  than  haa  been  the  case  since  the  Eevolution.  Their  precise  fnree 
is  perhaps  a  matter  which  would  aihiiit  of  much  argument,  but  it  ia 
seldom  of  grent  iin]Kirt.ance  to  define  it  -n-itli  exactness.  Some  of  them, 
if  it  could  be  s.ho\vn  that  they  were  issued  (as  is  aometimes  supposed) 
under  statutes  enabling  the  sovereigns  in  that  behalf,  would  stuiiil,  of 
course,  on  strong'  g]'ouud.  But  the  evidence  of  this  is  rather  obscure 
and  uuccrtaiu.  However,  be  their  constitutional  autliority  wliat  it 
may>  ttiey  have  been  fretitieutly  referred  to  liy  the  Courts  of  Law,  as 
ahowiufr  historically  what  was  taking  place,  and  thus  indicating  the 
way  iu  which  the  then  advisera  of  the  Crown  understood  the  changes 
tliat  had  recently  been  made  under  statutory  authority. 

The  mention  of  statutory  authority  l.iriugs  us  to  tlie  En{;hest  and 
most  hnportant  fonn  of  ecclesiastical  law,  the  Acts  ot  Ujiiformity  and 
other  legislative  enactmeuts.  The  operative  one  at  present  is  of 
CoiUT5e  the  List.  13  h  14  Car  II.,  e,  4,  But  this  Act  to  a  certain 
extent  incorporates  some  of  the  promions  iu  previous  ones.  Audit  is 
to  be  obaen'etl,  that  as  this  Act  establishes  our  present  Prayer-buttk, 
and  the  Act  13  EIi2.,  c,  12,  confirms  the  Articles,  the  result  ia  tliat 
these  have  the  com^detc  force  of  law,* 

•  The  Decrees  of  certolq  Geaerol  CoundlB  BfQ  reodgaiaeil  as  a  test  of  heresy  by 
1  Eliz.,  c.  1 :  lut  bi;roa;  is  not  our  prescat  eul-jeot. 


Ritualism  and  t/te  Ecclesiastical  Law.  13 

"We  have  already  alluded  to  the  usages  which  make  up  what  may 
be  called  the  Ecclesiastical  Common  Law.  Like  the  secular  common 
law,  this  is  founded  on  immemorial  custom,  and  prevails  for  the 
purj-iose  of  regulating  the  jurisdiction  in  matters  for  which  no  express 
enactment  exists. 

Tlius  far,  then,  we  have  traced  the  course  of  legal  decisions  on  con- 
troverted points  of  ritual,  and  have  endeavoiu^d  to  present  a  sketch  of 
the  system  of  law  on  which  those  decisions  were  founded. 

We  shall  now  take  a  leading  feature  of  modem  ritualism,  and 
examine  it  in  detail.  By  this  means  we  shall  hope  to  present  a 
connected  specimen  of  a  legal  argument,  and  also  to  throw  some 
light  on  questions  that  have  not  yet  received  a  judicial  solution,  but 
which  excite  much  attention  at  the  present  moment. 

For  this  purpose,  the  point  to  be  examined  must  be  one  to  which 
importance  is  attached,  and  the  legality  of  which  has  been  strongly 
maintained  by  the  ritualist  school.  And  it  must  also  be  a  representa- 
tive case ;  or,  in  other  words,  one  in  the  decision  of  which  principles 
are  necessarily  discussed  and  established,  that  by  implication  rule 
many  other  cases  of  like  kind. 

Such  an  instance  is  that  of  Altar  Lights. 

The  "  Directoriura  Anglicanum,"*  which  is  the  elaborate  text-book 
of  high  ritualism,  speaks  thus  on  the  subject : — 

"  The  Altar  Lights.— Thestj  should  bo  lighted  immediately  before  the 
Communion  Service  by  the  clerk  in  cassock,  or  in  cassock  and  surplice. 
He  should  make  a  reverence  before  ascending  to  light  them,  and  commence 
on  the  Epistle  side. 

"  It  should  be  obser^-ed  that  these  two  eacharistic  lights  should  never  be 
used  as  mere  candles  for  lighting  the  sanctuary.  Other  brackets  for  candles, 
or  the  eoronte  and  standard  lights,  are  sufficient  for  that  purpoaa  The  two 
lights  are  symbols,  and  in  honorem  sacramenti,  and  muat  be  cteea  IrnninOy 
save  when  celebration  is  intended.  The  judgment  in  the  Knightebridge 
ease  decided  their  strict  legality." — (P.  34.) 

Tliis  example,  then,  seems  to  satisfy  the  first  of  our  requirements  ; 
and  before  we  have  done  we  shall  see  that  it  also  fulfils  the  second. 

We  must  begin  by  asking,  Is  it  true  that  the  case  of  Westerton  v. 
Liddell  decided  the  legality  of  altar  lights  ? 

It  is  true  that  candlesticks  on  the  communion  table  were  objected 
to,  and  that  it  was  decided  by  Dr.  Lushington  that  they  might  be 
allowed  to  remain.  And  it  is  further  true  that  this  judgment  was 
acq\uesced  in  without  appeal.  Uut  in  order  not  to  be  misled,  we 
must  look  at  the  question  more  closely.  In  that  case,  the  proceedings 
were  brought  in  the  Consistory  Court  of  London,  and  it  was  prayed 
that  the  candlesticks  might  be  ordered  to  be  removed.  Dr.  Lxishing- 
ton  expressly  said  that  he  held  "  all  lighted  candles  on  the  com- 
*  Second  Edition,  London,  L865. 


mimion  table  .  .  .  coiitraiy  to  la"ff,  except  ■wlien  they  ai^  Hghted 
for  tlie  purpose  of  giving  neceasaTy  light ;"  but  "  as  to  the  candlesticks 
ami  ciulUm  nnlighted  on  av  near  to  tlie  communion  table,"  he  says,  "  I 
ackuowledge  1  have  much  more  duubL  ...  If  tliej'  are  to  be 
consideretJ  as  ornaraenta  merely,  I  shoidd  hold  their  use  not  to  be 
i'efM>nciIeRlile  witli  law.  But  I  cannot  deny  that  it  is  lawM  to  have 
sut'h  articles  nii  the  cuiiimunion  taljle  or  uear  it  i'uv  necessar}"  purjwsea  ; 
and  therefore  I  cannot  say,  though  I  believe  that  such  necessity  ariaea 
very  aelduni  indeed,  that  it  in  cunlrary  to  law  to  liave  them  so  placed 
ready  for  use  should  occasion  require."* 

The  view  of  the  learned  Judge  was  Uierefore  arlvyrse  to  altar  hghts, 
but  as  the  suit  sought  for  thii  removal  of  the  caniillesticks  themsehes, 
he  did  ni»t  I'tjel  at  lil>erty  to  grant  what  was  asked.  Had  the  <^[uestiiju 
ansen  in  a  proceeding  a^ain.st  a  clergyman  under  the  Church  Dia- 
cijiUne  Act,  for  using  altar  lights  as  being  an  unauthorized  rite,  it  is 
sufficiently  indicatet.1  what  his  judgment  would  have  been;  but  such 
a  proceeding  would  l>e  wholly  tUf!l"ereat  from  .well  a  suit  Jia  Westerton 
i).  Liddell,  and  must  have  been  conunenced  by  t'otmalities  of  a  distinct 
kind,  atid  in  Another  Coiu't. 

"We  have  thus,  we  hopei  sho^ii  that  there  is  no  ground  for  alleging 
that  there  hiis  been  a  decision  in  favour  of  the  lights,  and  we  shall  go 
on  to  examine  into  the  general  natiu-e  of  the  aipunenta  bixmght 
fonvard  in  their  favour.t 

The  great  point  at  Issue  is  as  to  the  true  construction  of  the  mbric 
at  the  commencement  of  the  R-ayer-book,  which  aays,  "And  here  is 
Ui  be  noted,  that  such  ornaments  of  the  Churcli,  and  of  the  minist-ers 
thereot^  at  all  times  of  their  ministration,  shall  be  retained,  and  be  in 
use,  £is  were  in  tins  Church,  by  the  authority  of  Parliament,  in  the 
second  year  of  the  i"eign  of  King  Edward  the  Sixth." 

For  Dr.  Lusbuigton  says  t!iat  candlesticks,  if  Lighted  without  neces- 


*  It  must  not  be  forgotten  tliat  Mr.  Lidd-cU  bad  made  afflddivit  tbat  tlie  ligbU  were  used 
only  when  an  nitiflcid  light  wns  neMtuoiy.    (See  Mooro'a  Ki^ort,  pp.  1 7  oiid  70.) 

t  The  stalPnicnts  in  the  "  Dircctorium  An(flic(miini,"  as  to  this  hw  of  the  Church  of 
Engluid,  arc  aticn  euvh.  as  to  raaks  it  almubt  ImpuGBible  (o  trcAt  them  &3  miittur  of  Bt^riuus 
arpunent  at  rU.  TtUiV  (he  fgUowing  aa  an  inBtonc^  uf  ih.B  etyle  pf  the  author's-  mind, 
lhoii(jh  on  a  dJiTisreut  subject.  There  is  a  ritbrif;  which  Bnj's; — "If  tburti  lie  not  above 
twenty  pcrwrna  in  the  pmiiah  wf  discretion  to  rct'eivo  tho  comniunioii ;  yet  there  »hall  be  no 
(aitmmdbQ,  eicepit  fotu-  (m-  three  at  the  leiial)  ((untuuniMtL-  with  the  pritati"  On  this 
the  author  aays,  "A  aiifflcient  number  of  thp  fnithful  ougiht  nlways  to  he  (int'ountgMl 
to  Blay  at  nil  limes,  wbeiter  they  at'tuiilly  tumiuuiucntc  or  not,  whith  will  not  bo  dia- 
covere4  till  afterwards,  »o  as  to  make  a  quorum  in  the  sense  of  iho  mhric ; — evun  il'  thoy 
go  ont  after  the  prayer  of  Ibo  oLlritioti  or  the  eihortatioa,  it  will  he  too  lul-o  for  tho 
priest  to  Btop.  Absent  nek persooa,  who  ccniiinimlcata  spiritTiBlIy,  ought  also  to  be  counted 
in..  Thua  iherfc  ran  bo  bo  great  difflimlly  in  offeiing  the  Holy  Sacrifice  daiiy  according  to 
tho  mind  of  the  Church,"  &c,— ["'Direi'lotiuni.,'*  Pttfip,  xx,,  nolt:.)  A  wotli  htt  this,  tuny 
he  on^  of  leamei!  antiquarian  rcecareh,  hut  it  can  bardly  Ire  a  tnistvorlhj'  ^uidc  ae  to  the 
laws  of  tbo  Bofonncd  Chitfcb  of  England. 


Ritualism  and  the  Ecclesiastical  Law.  1 5 

sity,  must  "fall  under  the  l^al  denomination  of  ornaments,  and  not 
necessaries,  and  indeed  as  ornaments  they  have  been  defended  at  the 
bar.  If  tliis  be  so,  the  law  in  the  rubric,  so  often  quoted,  must  be 
applicable  to  them."  And  so  much  is  imderatood  to  be  geneiuUy 
conceded  on  all  sides. 

Now  the  Judicial  Committee,  in  Westerton  v.  LiddeU,  had  occasion 
to  put  a  construction  on  this  rubric  for  another  purpose,  and  their 
decision  is  as  follows : — 

"Their  Lordships,  after  much  conaideration,  are  satisfied  that  the  con- 
struction of  this  rubric  which  they  suggested  at  the  hearing  of  the  case  is 
its  true  meaning,  and  that  the  word  *  ornaments'  applies,  and  in  this  rubric 
is  confined,  to  those  articles  the  use  of  which  in  the  ser^'ices  and  ministra- 
tions of  the  Church  ia  prescribed  by  the  Prayer-book  of  Edward  VI.  The 
term  'ornaments'  in  ecclesiastical  law  is  not  confined,  as  by  modem  us^e, 
to  articles  of  decoration  or  embellishment,  but  it  is  used  in  the  larger  sense 
ot  the  word  *  omanientum^  which,  according  to  the  interpretation  of  For- 
cellini's  Dictionary,  \&  used  '  pro  quocumque  apparatu,  aeu  instrumento.'  All 
the  several  articles  used  in  the  performance  of  the  services  and  rites  of  the 
Church  are  '  ornaments.'  Vestments,  books,  cloths,  chalices,  and  patens  aro 
amongst  church  oniamentfl  j  a  long  list  of  them  will  be  found  extracted 
from  Lyndwood  in  Dr.  Phillimore's  edition  of  Bum's  'Ecclesiastical  Law' 
(voL  L,  pp.  375-6-7).  In  modem  times,  organs  and  bells  are  held  to  &I1 
under  tlm  denomination  When  reference  is  had  to  the  first  Prayer-book 
of  Edward  the  Sixth,  with  this  explanation  of  the  term  'ornaments,'  no 
difficulty  will  be  found  in  discovering,  amongst  the  articles  of  which  the 
use  is  there  enjoined,  ornaments  of  the  Church  as  well  as  ornaments  of  the 
ministers.  Besides  the  vestments  differing  in  the  diScrent  services,  the 
rubric  provides  for  the  use  of  an  English  Bible,  the  new  Prayer-hook,  a  poor 
man's  box,  a  chalice,  a  corporas,  a  paten,  a  bell,  and  some  other  things."  * 

The  highest  Ecclesiastical  Court  has  thus  given  its  judgment  that 
the  words  of  the  rubric  apply,  and  are  confined  to  such  ornaments  as 
are  authorized  in  the  first  Prayer-book  of  Edward  VI.,  which  was 
sanctioned  and  enforced  by  the  first  Act  of  Uniformity  of  that 
monarch ;  and  the  Court,  at  the  same  time,  takes  occasion  to  ob^date 
the  difficulty  sometimes  raised  that  in  fact  there  are  no  ornaments  of 
the  Church  mentioned  in  the  book  in  question,  by  citing  from  its 
pages  the  names  of  various  things  that  come  under  that  description. 

This  being  so,  the  matter  seems  to  resolve  itself  into  the  simple 

question.  Does  the  first  Prayer-book  of  Edward  say  anything  about 

dtar  lights  ?     It  is  not  even  pretended  that  this  is  the  case ;  and 

,  hence,  by  a  necessary  inference  from  the  judgment,  they  seem  to  be 

quite  unauthorized. 

But  a  writer  who  does  not  hesitate  to  chaige  the  Judicial  Committee 
with  ha\'ing  made  a  complete  mistake,  brings  a  chronolc^cal  argu- 
ment to  show  that  a  rubric  which  speaks  of  the  second  year  of  Edward 
cannot  possibly  refer  to  the  l*rayer-book  in  question. 

*  Uoore'a  Beport,  p.  168. 


?^  Contemporary  Review, 

He  pnts  it  tlnis ; — "  Edward  VT.  begFin  tn  reipi  on  .Taimarj'  28tli, 
1547.  His  second  year  was  over  on  Janumy  28th,  1549.  His  fii-st 
Pni-yur-bocik  did  not  cnme  into  itse  by  law  imtU  AVIdt-Sumliiy,  1549, 
■\vull  on  iji  liis  third  year,  and  till  tliuu  thtj  Latiu  Sliasal  and  Breviary 
■were,  the  only  lawful  serviue-booka  in  Eii;^land."* 

The  full  explanation  of  this  olijection,  which  at  first  si.yht  lonka 
rather  foruddaWe,  is  as  follows.  The  first  PrayGr-book  of  Edwaid, 
VI.  was  put  forth  and  sunctioned  by  the  Act  2  &  3  Edw.  VI,,  c.  1, 
and  this  statute  enacts  that  ah  ministcra,  ht,,  "shall, /row  and  nfict 
of  Pentecost  next  cominf/,  be  bounden  to  say  and  use  the 
J,,  and  all  their  common  and  open  prayer,  in  s«ch  order  and 
montioJii;d  in  the  situiu  bonk,  find  nrme  other  or  otberwiae." 
As  the  session  of  I'flrliamtnt  iri  which  this  statnte  was  passed  did  not 
begin  till  November  in  the  second  year  of  the  Kiii^',  the  feast  of  Pente- 
cost next  coming  would  Tie  in  the  third  year.  Hence  Dr.  Litth'dale 
arguea  that  tliei  Prayer-book  cuidd  not  be  in  force  till,  tlie  third  year, 
instead  of  the  second. 

Rut  he  ajipeara  to  have  overlooked  a  later  elan.^ie  in  the  sonje  Act, 
Avhich  provides  that  the  hotiks  should  be  got  by  the  <liflercnt  pariahp3 
"liyl'nre  the  feast  of  pL-ntecost  npxt  followinj,',  or  hrfm'e;  and  that 
nU.  such  parishes,  fie.,  where  the  said  books  shall  be  attained  and 
•fotten  he/m'c  the  said  feast  of  Pentecost,  shidl,  -ivilhrn  three  ivtrj:s  next 
after  the  said  hooka  so  attained  and  gotten,  iiae  the  said  service,  and 
put  the  same  in  lu-e  according  to  this  Act." 

Hence  the  new  service,  in  contemplation  of  liiw,  would  he  in  nae 
almost  at  once  after  tlie  passin;:,^  of  the  Act,f  and  the  rjuestion  is 
narrowed  to  the  date  to  be  assigned  to  the  Act  itself. 

Dr.  littledale  does  not  seem  to  have  noticed  that  some  argument 
took  place  on  this  very  point  in  Westtiitgn  v.  Liddell,  and  the  Judicial 
Committee  say  v — 

"It  was  urged  at  the  bar  that  the  present  mbric,  wticli  refers  to  the 
e^cond  ye-ar  of  Edward  \'T.,  caanot  lueaii  ornamenis  melitioneil  in  the  first 
Prayor-hook,  Ivecaiise,  as  it  ia  said,  tliat  Act  i\'aa  pnjlialjly  not  jiasaeJ,  and 
tliB  Prayer-book  iv;i9  certainly  not  in  use,  till  iiftji>r  tho  expiration  of  thu 
SL'cjonil  year  of  Eihviird  VI.,  aiid  thalt,  therefons,  the  wcinta  '  by  autliority  of 
Parliament'  mnst  mean  by  virtue  of  canons  or  ro>"a.l  jnj cinetinnB  having  the 
authority  of  Parlianient,  niadt*  nt  an  earlier  period.  There  si-enis  uo  riin^ou 
to  do'Libt  tlut  the  Act  in  quogtiou  received  the  Koyal  assent  in  the  second 
year  of  Edward  VI.  It  concerncl  a  umtter  of  ga'at  urgency,  which  had 
beL'a  long  uud«r  t'^onsidoratieii,  and  wii-s  the  first  Act  of  the  session  ;  it  ' 
passed  through  one  IIouso  of  Par] i-ament  on  January  the  15th,  1549,  N.S., 
and  tho  other  on  th«  2l8t  of  the  esm«  month  ;  and  the  second  year  of  thci 
reign  of  Edward  VL  did  not  expire  till  Januniy  the  28tb.     In  the.  Act  of 

•  IJtneilale'a  "  Catholic  RitntJ,"  p.  11. 

t  TUe  meauiny  of  the  Act  clearly  is  that  it  was  detiraik  lo  use  thfl  new  Liturgy  oa  aoaa. 
&&  posiible,  and  it  was  ^enei  not  to  use  it  after  Pentecost  ot  latest. 


Riiualisfn  and  the  Ecclesiastical  Law. 


«7 


I 
I 


I 


the  5th  an  J  Gth  Etlward  VL,  c  ],  §  5,  it  ia  expressly  referred  to  as  t>n) 
Act  'niitde  in  the  secoiiil  year  of  the  Kinij's  Majesty's  reigu.'  Upou  t-hi* 
p-isitit,  therefore,  do  flilfieulty  coin  arise.  It  is  very  trii^  that  thp  Ji«w 
Ptnyer-book  could  not  couku  into  uae  until  after  the  exjiirstign  of  that 
year,  because  time  must  he  aUoired  fur  printing  and  ilistributitig  tho 
boots  ;  hut  ita  ii-se,  nnd  the  injunrtions  contnined  in  it,  wore  established  by 
authority  of  Porliamtnt  La  tho  aecoati  year  of  Edward  VI.„  aud  this  ia  the 
plain  lucauiay  of  the  rubric,"  • 

The  fact  here  meiitiuned,  that  in  5  &  6  Edw.  AT,  c.  1,  the 
Act  2  &  3  Kdw,  VI.,  c.  \,  is  unquestionably  cited  as  made  in 
th«  second  year  of  Ids  reign,  uught  surely  l«  settle  the  f|ut;stioii 
as  to  thtiif  bL'ing  nu  impossibility  that  it  shoiild  be  intended  by 
the  like  words  in  the  rubric. 

If  any  futiher  aiyunient  be  needed,  it  may  be  added  that  the  time 
at  whicb  the  Bnyal  assent  was  ^ven  to  the  Act  is  perhaps  alter 
'  all  not  very  mntpHal. 

At  the  present  day  an  Act  takes  effect  only  froin  the  time  At  which 
it  rccei\'e3  the  P^yal  assent;  hut  this  is  comparatively  a  recent  syatem, 
havijig  been  broufiht  about  by  the  Act  33  Gen.  111.^  c.  13. 

IVjAnoiLgly  to  the  ]ias3infr  of  that  Act,  the  rule  TS'aa,  "that  wlien  the 
comraent-ement  of  an  Act  was  nnt  directetl  to  he  from  any  particular 
time,  it  took  effect  from  tlie  tirst  day  of  the  session  in  which  the  Act 
was  passed."  ■{■ 

Now  seeinj^  Ihat  the  2  &  S  Etlw.  VI.,  c.  1,  in  fact  dirocted 
liooks  to  lie  yot  as  soon  as  possible  fas  we  have  shown),  and 
that  the  Act  iteelf  would,  in  contemplation  of  law  at  the  time 
the  rubric  ivas  fmnieil,  bo  deemed  to  have  passed  on  tho  first  day 
of  the  se.gaion,  \.f..,  on  the  4fch,  or,  at  latest,  on  the  24th  of  November, 
154(i!,j  there  seems  no  room  left  tu  d<jubt  that  in  the  legal  phrase- 
obgy  of  the  day,  the  usaj^'cs  which  it  introduced  woidd  Ihj  spoken  of 
as  lueinj^  in  the  Chm*cli  in  the  seeond  year  nf  King  Edward. 

iJr.  Littlisdale's  chi-onological  objection  thei-efore  fails,  and  we  fall 
bflX'k  with  more  confideucts  on  the  view  of  the  Judiciid  Committee 
that  the  rubric  really  refeis  Uj  Edwanl's  lirat  Prayer-book,  flliich,  we 
repeat,  does  not  direct  the  use  of  liglits  on  the  altar. 

But  it  may  still  Ije  well  to  look  at  the  alternative  proposed  to  ns  by 
those  who  dissent  from  this  view. 

•  Moore'i  Bepart  of  Wi'slerton  v,  LiddoU,  p.  160.  It  is  wortli  drft-wiiig  attention  to  llio 
fut  diat  thn  rubric  does  oot  run,  "  audi  oininnoTita  ahall  be  retnined  na  were  in  iiac  in  fhii 
Cbnnti,  &!■:.,  hf  AuEhoHty  of  Pnrliiimpnt,"  &i-.,  but  "  mich  omameuts alioll  bo  rctuinud  and 
be  in  use.  m,  \rero  in  this  Cbun^h,  &t.,  by  autlaurity  of  Parliflment,"  4c. 

\  Dwarris  on  StututcB,  2Qd  Edition,  p.  513,  lu  Ujp  •■oso  of  Lotlesa  v.  nolmem  (4  Tprm 
Report,  flflO),  the  C'Hirt  Tefusc-d  tu  lako  nntico  of  tliis  hIbIb  of  the  Roynl  anBotit  to  the  Act 
on  irhirh  thni  casi!  depf'iulcd.  Baying^  "  Wo  t-an  only  know  by  n  ref«reni?c  to  tho  fitntutc- 
Ruak  -irbva  thi?  Al-C  paisseiE  -  and  liy  ttiBt  it  a|iptMm  to  Ii&ve  passed  im  tli«  SUt  of  October, 
tho  flret  day  of  th>;  HCssioh." 

;  Tbe  rarl.  Roll  has  tho  -tth ;  thu  Juumals  uf  tLc  IlauiQ  oay  the  Silh. 

VOL.  I.  ^ 


"^        ' 


1 8  Tlie  Contemporary  Review. 

"What  other  interpretation  of  the  rubric  is  offered  ?  It  has  been 
su^ested  that  it  means  such  ornaments  "  as  were  in  use  in  the  second 
year  of  King  Edward's  reign  by  the  authoritj"  of  any  statute  then 
in  force,  tliough  previously  enacted."  *  Accordingly  rehance  is  placed 
on  a  constitution  of  Archbishop  Eej-nolds,  made  in  the  year  1322, 
which  directs  the  use  of  altar  lights  at  the  senice  of  the  Mas3."f" 
This  constitution,  it  is  contended,  was  in  force  at  the  passing  of  the 
Act  25  Hen.  VIII.,  c.  19,  and  was,  therefore,  confirmed  by  the  proviso 
in  that  Act,  and  by  the  35  Hen.  VTII.,  c.  16  (cited  su,pTa,  p.  10,  &c.). 
And  hence  it  had  the  authority  of  Parliament  in  the  second  year 
of  Edward  VI.,  and  comes  within  the  terms  of  the  rubric. 

The  matter  turns,  as  will  be  seen  at  once,  on  the  clauses  given 
gupra,  p.  10  et  scq.,  from  the  Acts  of  Henry  VIIL,  which  purport  to 
sanction  the  canons  and  constitutions  then  existing,  until  revised  by 
the  commissioners.  It  will  be  recollected  that  the  authority  to  take 
steps  for  such  region  was  personal  to  the  King,  and  ceased  at  his , 
death,  and  that  no  such  revision  was  in  fact  completed  before  he  died. 

Hence  a  very  grave  doubt  has  been  raised,  as  to  whether  the  Acts 
did  not  wholly  expire  with  the  life  of  the  King,  including  the  clauses 
which  give  an  interim  sanction  to  the  canons.  Mr.  Stephens  con- 
tended before  the  Judicial  Committee,  "  that  the  true  meaning  of  the 
statutes  relating  to  that  subject,  passed  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIIL, 
is  that  they  provide  for  the  review  of  the  existing  canons  by 
commissioners  appointed  by  the  King,  and  give  authority  to  these 
canons  only  in  the  meantime,  i.  c,  during  the  continuance  of  the 
commissions;  that  the  commissioners  never  made  any  report; J  that 
the  commissions  determined  by  the  death  of  King  Henry  VIII. ; 
and  that  the  parliamentary  sanction  given  to  the  canons  ended  at  the 
same  time." 

If  so,  obviously  they  had  not  the  authority  of  Parliament  in  the 
second  year  of  Edward  VI.  The  above  smnmary  of  the  argument  is 
given  by  their  Lordships  in  the  judgment  in  Westerton  v.  Liddell,  and 
they  go  on  to  say ; — "  If  it  were  necessaiy  to  determine  this  goint, 
their  Lonlships  tliink  this  argument  might  deserve  serious  considera- 
tion, although  it  is  contrary  to  the  general  impression  which  has 
prevailed  on  the  subject." 

"  These  Tordfl  are  taken  from  an  opinion  by  Mr,  Badelcy  on  the  legality  of  altar  lighta, 
bearing  date  I'cbruorj-  12,  1851  ;  and  what  followB  is  an  attempt  to  state  briefly  the  main 
point  of  hid  argument.  It  may  be  gathered  that  Dr.  Littledalc's  view  is  not  very 
diuimilar. 

t  "  Tempore  quo  Mifsarum  solenmia  peraguntur,  accendantur  duie  candeke  vel  ad 
minus  una.''     (L}-ud.  I'rovinc.  236,  JohnBOn,  eub  anno  1322.) 

J  Cardwt'll  saya  (Docum.  Annals,  vol.  i.,  p.  100),  that  they  did  draw  up  a  report,  but 
that  it  oc'vcr  received  the  King's  contirmation.  The  difference  is  immaterial  for  the 
prcuint  purprse. 


Ritualism  and  iJie  Ecclesiastical  Law. 


19 


They  did  not  find  it  neoessaiy  to  decide  the  question,  because  on 

other  gi-oimds  tLey  were  satisfied  tliat  the  nibric  related  to  the  first 

Pni}L*r-book  of  E^lwai-d  VI.     It  may  be  obseired  that  this  point  had 

already  been  raised  some  years  pi'eviously  in  a  tract*  published  on 

fej^e  subject,  which  puts  the  argument  thns  :— 

**  It  is  subniitted  tliat  the  event  contemplated  [the  TCTieion  of  the  caiions] 
having  beL-oiiiG  inijiossibl©  [by  tke  death  of  Henry],  the  clauses,  which  were 
limited  to  opernte  oidy  aidil  that  eveut,  Iwcaitic  a  dead  letter.  It  is  cleiif 
in  the  law  of  real  property,  that  '  if  au  estate  be  Hmiteil  to  a  man  and  his 
heire,  miiil  A  eliidl  attain  the  ege  of  twenty-ona,  the  testate  "will  deterniLne 
jf  A  should  die  untluT  that  age' — (Pi-eetnn  cm  Estattis,  j>.  55.)  And  tha  like 
seems  to  be  the  proper  interpretation  beru.  .  .  ,  Any  other  interpre- 
tation wriidd  read  thu  words,  'till  auch  tiJiie  as  they  Hhall  be  viewed,'  as  if 
they  had  been,  'in  default  of  Guch  review.'  The  latter  phrase,  which  baa  a 
definite  legal  sense,  would  have  been  quite  appropriato  to  convey  the  aiean- 
ing  for  which  ilr.  Baduley  contenJa,  hut  as  the  Legislature  has  not  used  it, 
there  seem?  ground  to  think  sui-li  an  itibjution  wa^  not  preG<;nt  to  their 
tuinds.  Bo&i<Ii?.f<,  it  ia  Hurely  nioBt  inccngruuus  to  maintain  that  Furluunent, 
while  cemplainitiK  that  the  itfinona  were  'oTt-rinuch  oueroue  ■to  His  Higliuess 
and  his  subjects, 't  should  at  one  and  thci  siinio  moment  miikti  thtir  reviaion 
dtpundcnt  on  ihu  King's  life  latiting  until  the  conclusion  uf  a  long  investi- 
gation, and  yet  bestow  oji  them  a  uiiw  and  authoritative  eaneti<in,  whinh 
WBB  to  Ix.'  perpetiml  in  the  event  tif  any  accident  to  the  King.  It  should  be 
observed  that  by  1  Eliz.,  c.  1,  everj-tliitii;;  in  the  slatuti;  25  Heu.  VUL,  c.  19 
(iiiclurliaj:  therefiirp  the  power  to  reviae  the  canuuti),  ia  lexlended  to  the 
yiieen  ujiti  hf^r  /rnri-j'intnr/t.  And  this  exptaiua  ho^v  the  confirmiittiry  proviso 
has  bc^n  tri'atcd  as  in  force  at  the  present  day  by  legal  writwrs^  without 
tmptigmng  the  abovi-  ar;:;miient  as  to  the  state  of  things  at  the  nponing  of 
thM  poign  of  Edward  VI.'' 

But  again,  let  us  grant  for  the  salce  of  argument  that  the  grave 
doubt  thus  raised  ia  unfoimdetl. 

Th(!  question,  theu,  Is  as  to  the  true  intent  and  meaning  of  certain 
words  of  reference  used  in  the  rubric,  and  we  are  now  cnnaideiing 
a  proposed  interjiretation,  which  makes  them  relate  to  the  ancient 
amons  and  constilutioue  collect ivtily.  One  nietliud  of  testmg  this  w. 
by  inquirinfj  into  the  consefpiences  which  would  ensue  from  adoptinn; 

Imcli  a  Miistniction.     If  these  are  anomalous  and  incouvL-nient,  it  is  a 
Itgitimatc  iafereiice  that  tha  intfutloii  of  the  fraiuera  of  the  rubrio 
tannot  have  been  as  alleged.}: 
Now  tliere  are  three  very  explicit  constitutions  regarding  church 
•  "  Some  Einininatioa  of  &  recently  putilished  Opinion  of  E.  Badeloy,  Esq.,  in  fnvour  gf 
JJHrljgbta."     Bj- a  Layirjnn,  late  Fi'llow  of  Trinitj- College,  Cftmbridge.     London,  1B61, 
t  Se*  20  n.t«.  VIIL,  t.  19. 

X  Tbis  bicdiixl  uf  Ttasama^  is  of  frequent  use  in  lav.     Mr.  Bmom,  in  hie  abl^  work  en 

Muinis,  iiai  the  fslbwing  commuit  on  tlie  minm,  "  Argumc^tuia  ab  iiLconvrnientt 

unionnL  rolot  in  logo."    Uv  uyi,  '*  Arguments  of  mcoaveoicn'.'Q  arc  soitivtiuten  ol'grent 

upou  tlid  i^uvaticni  of  inLentitm.     If  there   be  in  niiy  deed  or  icilmiuinf  ecjuiTOCol 

ns,  and  glcat  iiH-onveiuciUi'e  must  nLtoesiiriljr  follow  from  one  construe tiun,   It  it 

la  *how  tLal  <ucb.  conatructiaii  ii  not  acixndiii^  to  Lhc  \raa  iutcntian.'" 


2D 


The  Contemporaiy  Review, 


ornainenta  to  be  fonnil  in  L^iiJwood's  and  Johnson's  collectiona  of 
uinons.  One  of  them  was  made  in  1250,  under  Arclibishop  Gray; 
another  at  a  later  jiuriod,  under  Art'liltishoii  Peckhnm;  and  the  third 
in  1305,  under  Ai-cLbishoii  Winclielsey.  These  enjuin  that  there  l»e 
in  churches,  amongst  other  things,  a  vessel  lor  the  holy  water,  a  cross 
fot  precessions,  an  oscalntor}',*  a  censer,  a  tteceul  jiyx  for  the  body  of 
C'iirist,  hannera  for  the  Rogation  daysj  the  chrismatory,'!'  a  veil  for 
Lent,*  the  images  in  the  churches,  the  principal  linage  in  the  chancel 
of  that  aaint  to  ■wliicli  the  cliurch  is  dedicated,  and  so  on. 

All  these  matters, therefore,  rest  on  precisely  the  same  foundation  as 
the  constitirtion  of  Archbishop  Keynolda  touching  altar  lighta,  If  the 
latter  t>e  now  in  force,  so  are  these.  In  other  "Wijrds,  oiii-  clnuT;h- 
tviirdenS  ate  Ijoimd  to  fmnish  thtir  chuw-hes  ■ftith  idl  the  abo\-e 
articles.  The  osculatoiy  is  ag  much  authorized  to  be  nsed  in  the 
Holy  Communion  as  the  lighted  candles;  a  veil  must  l-e  hung  across 
the  church  in  Ijcnt ;  the  holy  water  must  stand  at  the  door;  and. 
above  all,  the  consecrated  Host  njust  be  reserved  in  the  p}Tc,  or  sacred 
box  employed  for  that  purpose,  aud  the  pyx  placed  in  a  tabernacle 
over  the  altar.  "We  charge,"  says  Arehhi.'ihop  Peckbam,  in  a  con- 
stitution of  I279f  "  that  for  the  future  the  moat  worthy  sacmment  of 
the  Kiiehftrist  be  so  kept,  that  a  tabemacle  be  made  in  everj'  church, 
with  a  decent  enclosure,  accttiding  to  the  gi-eatness  of  the  cure  and 
the  valne  of  the  church,  in  which  the  Lord's  Body  may  he  laid,  not 
in  Q  purse  or  bng,  but  in  a  fair  pyx.  lined  with  the  whitest  linen, 
so  tliat  it  may  be  \>x\.\,  in  and  taken  out  without  any  hazani  of 
hi-eaktng  it" 

It  is  sometimes  urged  that  the  altar  itself  was  a  recognised  oma- 
uifut  in  the  second  yeai'  of  Edwaitl  (inasmucli  ti^  s.teiw  were  not  taken 
Ici  alwlifih  altars  till  a  year  or  two  Int^r),  and  that  both  altar  and 
altar  h'ghts  are  therefore  now  legal.  Rnt  independcTitly  of  the  view 
taken  by  iijr  H.  J.  Fuat  in  Fitulkner  i'.  IJtchf^(:^UI,  that  the  altar  is 
not  deserihed  with  technical  coiTectnesa  by  the  term  "omniment^"§ 

•  Tho  OBCuIalory  ■wna  a  tab]r>t  or  bonrd,  with  iho  picture  of  Cfariet  Jesus,  tic  Virgin  or 
tlic  like,  wlilch  tho  prieat  kissed  hiniBelf,  and  gn*'*'  *"  'lio  l>eoplo  for  Ito  anmp  purjiOMi  aftct 
the  coiiBpci'Qtion  was  ptrfornitd,  inati^ail  of  the  ani-iont  Icias  of  chftrity."  (Johiiaoii'a  nolo 
oa  Uie  Canon  of  Wiiichclsoy.) 

t  Thu;  ririimatory,  lliu  BiniB  cominentatar  IpIIb  us,  wns  ft  nereasary  part  flf  tho  furm- 
ture  of  every  church,  and  waa  the  small  teasel  in  wliitb  tliu  thrism,  or  holj-  ointmiju.t  for 
nnotnting  pereona  in  baptisia,  wli^  <?oiit!£i!^. 

%  Thii  wna  "a  rurtnin  ilmwn  belwoen  tho  altnr  and  the  peopli?  during  muM,  whoroby 
tho  J)iCO£>]o  were  pruUibitcd  from  setting  atiTlbing  tLut  uros  dont-,"      (Johnson.) 

\  He  aays,  "  It  vm  conteadcd  that,  ns  st-nno  altars  were  then  \s\f.,y  in  "Can  eccond  jwox 
of  Edward]  in  iisp,  they,  being  oratiiniiiliii  are  low  to  'be  retninM.  T.>  bo  euti.',  wvtk  tbia 
argiicncnt  valid,  not  ou3y  ii^  this  atone  altar  or  table  projUT.  but  no  other  apeties  of  tnblo 
ought  fu  bo  orettcd,  DunmdiLfl  was  cited  to  *how  that  the*  altar  ts  to  l)«  considered  on 
oiiiauteitt :  but  it  a«pin8  to  m*  that  that  writer  is  an  nutlmrily  iho  other  way.  In  lil>.  t-, 
cap.  3,  of  his  'Rationale  Dii-inonun  Offloionua,'  Tonice  Edit.,  I068,  he  aay*,  'Poiro  onA- 


Ritualism  and  i/ie  Ecclesiastical  Law.  2 1 

this  argument,  if  iised  at  all,  must  be  pressed  to  its  full  extent.  It  is 
not  merely  a  structure  of  stone  with  lights  upon  it,  such  as  is  some- 
times seen  in  churches  where  strong  ritualist  opinions  prevail,  that 
would  have  to  be  restored,  but  the  altar  with  tlie  pyx  and  the  re- 
served Host  upon  or  over  it,  and  dressed  in  all  points  as  in  the  days 
when  (as  Dr.  Littledale  says)  "  the  Latin  Missal  and  Breviary  were 
the  only  lawful  service-books." 

But  the  reservation  of  the  sacrament  is  directly  contrary  to  the 
twenty-e^hth  Article  ;  and  it  is  a  rule  of  law,  no  less  than  of  common 
sense,  that  no  construction  can  be  valid  which  introduces  repugnancy 
and  contradiction. 

So,  again,  as  to  the  images.  The  old  canons  distinctly  require 
them,  yet  they  are  as  distinctly  forbidden  by  the  homily  against 
"Peril  of  Idolatry;*  and  the  doctrine  of  the  homilies  is  confirmed 
by  the  thirty-fifth  Article. 

And  subscription  to  the  Articles  was  enjoined  by  the  same  Act  of 
Unifonnity  which  sanctioned  the  rubric,  the  interpretation  of  which  is 
now  under  consideration. 

We  might  cmry  our  inquiries  farther  as  to  the  ancient  canons,  with 
a  like  result ;  but  it  is  presumed  that  enough  liaa  been  said  to  show 
the  strange  results  which  would  flow  from  holding  that  our  present 
rubric  It^alizes,  as  a  class,  all  ornaments  prescribed  in  them. 

Perhaps  it  may  be  replied  that  such  ornaments  are  sanctioned, 
except  so  far  as  set  aside  by  more  recent  laws.  But  this  is  to  destroy 
the  whole  force  and  simplicity  of  the  argument,  which  owes  its 
virtue  to  a  strict  and  literal  reading  of  the  words  "  such  as  were  in 
this  Church  of  England,  by  authority  of  Parliament,  in  the  second 
year  of  the  reign  of  King  Edward  the  Sixth."  Mr.  Badeley,  and 
those  who  share  his  \'iew,  contend  that  whatever  falls  within  these 
terms — whatever  ornaments  had  authority  under  any  Act  of  Parlia- 
ment, at  a  time  when, "the  Latin  Missal  and  Breviaiy  were  the  only 
kwful  service-books" — must  be  allowed  to  be  enjoined  by  the  rubric. 
To  engraft  on  this  any  exception  not  found  in  it  is  fatal  to  the 
scheme.     If  one  article  be  disallowed,  why  not  another  ? 

menu  in  tribos  coiuiatunt,  t. «.,  in  omatu  eccleaiat,  chori,  et  altarie.  .  .  .  Altaris  vero 
ornatus  conaistit  in  capaia,  in  palliis,  in  phylacteriia,  in  candelabris,  in  crucibus,  in  aufrisio 
[surifrigio'r],  in  Teiillia,  in  codicibua,  in  velaminibus,  et  in  cortinia.'  The  altar  is  no- 
Thtre,  that  I  can  find,  enumerated  amongst  the  ornaments  of  the  church  or  choir." — 
FauOMr  T.  Litchfield,  I  Robertson,  p.  254. 

•  The  whole  spirit  and  tenor  of  tho  homily  aro  against  them ;  but  one  sentence  may 
te  dted  merely  aa  a  sample : — "  The  images  of  God,  our  Sariour  Chriat,  the  blessed  Yirgiu 
Utry,  the  apoatlca,  martyra,  and  others  of  notable  holiness,  are,  of  all  other  images,  most 
dangerons  for  the  peril  of  idolatry,  and  therefore  greatest  heed  to  be  taken  that  none  of 
them  be  Buffered  to  etand  publicly  in  churches  and  temples."  (See  third  part  of  tha 
Wily.) 


22 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


AiiJ  then,  wliat  is  disallownnce  ?  The  wliok'  dispute  ia  at  once  let 
in  aa  to  whether  tliinj^s  not  mentioueil  are  tlieryliy  forbidden,  or 
whfithcr  thiir'e  niiist  he  any,  auJ  it'  so,  what,  exjiress  words  nt"  piMhi- 
bitioii.  For  iustauce,  in  reference  to  the  matter  before  us,  the  Msisa 
is  swept  away;  in  the  year  1652,  when  the  rubriu  at"  our  present 
Pmyer-hdok  was  finally  fiftnctionwl  and  set  Ibrth,  and  fur  loiij;  after- 
wards, it  was  fiimishable  with  fine  and  imprisonment,  by  23  YXxz., 
cap.  1,  to  say  Masa.  And  by  3  Janies  I^  cap.  5,  pyses  and  missals 
fouuLl  ill  the  possession  of  Popish  re-cusanta  wwre  to  he  destroyed. 

It"  these  statutes  forbid  the  " Mhsio-fum  sokinnia,"  who  is  to  say, 
with  confidence,  that  the  " dute  candclfe"  enjoined  by  the  canon  of 
Hejntulds  as  a  part  uf  that  ritf ,  are  nut  abolished  also  ? 

Or  wili  it  l>e  said  that  the  "  omaraents"  un^  to  be  kept,  but  not  the 
8fen*ice  ?  If  80,  are  the  tabernacly  and  the  pyx  to  be  set  up,  but  with 
no  Host  within  ?  the  oscuktory  restored,  but  never  used  ?  If  so,  the 
aiialo;^y  woidd  appear  to  Ije  that  the  candlesticks,  though  alluweil  to 
remain,  should  not  be  lighted. 

There  is  yet  one  more  argument  in  support  of  altar  li^'lits  which 
AT  must  exainiue,  because  gi-eat  I'eUance  has  been  placed  upon  it  by 
some  WTiters. 

In  the  year  liidT,  being  the  first  year  of  Eilward  W.,  certain  royal 
itijiint'tiona  were  set  forth,  one  of  M'hich  mn — 'That  all  deaiis,  arch- 
deacons, parson."?,  vicars,  and  otlier  ecclesiastical  persons  .... 
shall  suffer  henceforth  no  torches  or  ciuKlka,  tapers,  or  iniafjea  of 
wax,  to  be  set  liffore  any  image  or  picture.  But  only  two  lights 
upon  the  liigh  altar,  before  tlie  sacrament,  which,  for  tiie  signifiration 
that  Christ  is  the  very  true  light  of  the  world,  they  shall  suffer  to 
remaiu  still." 

Now  this  injunction,  per  sc,  is  not,  of  course,  etpiivalent  to  autho- 
rity of  Purliament,*  but  it  Inus  teen  allegeil  by  many  thut  it  was  in 
fact  issueil  by  the  ('rown  under  the  jwwers  of  tlie  Act  ^1  Hen.  VIIL, 
c.  8,  and  34  lien.  VIII.,  c.  23,  which  gave  royal  pruclamationa  put 
forth  uuder  their  provisions  the  effect  of  Acts  of  I'arlianicut.  Much 
dispute  has  taken  place  as  to  whether  these  injunctions  were  or  wiira 
not  iirisued  with  the  fonnalities  requisite  to  bring  them  within  tlie 
scope  of  the  Acts  of  Henrj'  VII 1.,  but  the  point  seems  to  be  of  veiy 
subonlinati.'  mciment,  for  th-e  following  reason. 

*  Yet,  Htn^arlj  enniij^  it  hsa  somelimeB  baen  bo  treatcHl.  Thus  Dean  Hook,  in  liu 
Chiirfh  Diet.,  Hub,  "  Lights  on  tho  AJtar,"  ttftpr  i;iting  the  ntbrii;  wltli  which  wi'  nro  now 
60  faiiiilmr,  Bays,  "  So  that,  if  it  oppear  tliat  in  the  second  year  ol  King  Echvnrtl  VI. 
lifjllta  veiv  Uj4«]  OS  in  Ihia  mhric  ia  mention'pd,  no  aulboritv  short  of  a  Cunvocniion  tor  iLc 
*^h«rcli,  and  for  lie  H!nto  an  A<;t  of  rurliflincnt,  tan  Teveiae  llii:!  auihoirity  on  uhkh 
li^Ma  aro  Bti|]  iised  iijjrjri  the  iiltar ;"  and  then  ho  iimply  prodiii-ea  iLo  injtiiirtion,  withtiut 
any  ntdcnpt  to  nhou-  tJmt  ii  had  thp  oulLoritj-  of  tlic  Legialaturo,  anil  appean  to  he  under 
till'  imiiiTsaiin  that  !io  liu  pTOved  hia  point. 


Ritualism  aiid  the  Ecclesiastical  Law. 


93 


I 


I 


Tlte  mjunctioris  were  put  forth  m  the  summer  of  1547,  ami  m  the 
ensiiipg  winter  wn3  passed  the  statute  1  Edw,  VI.,  c.  12,  which 
repealed  the  Act*  in  questiou,  tleclariiig  that  thw  Act  "made  in  the 
I'arliamont  bolilen  at  Westminster  jn  the  thirty -firet  year  of  the  reigQ 
ftf  the  latG  Kmg  Hmiry  VIIl.j  that  pioclamations  made  by  the  Kiny's 
Highnp-S3f  hy  thi?  advice  of  his  Hcitiaimibli!  Cotiiicil,  shciidd  he  ohuyed 
iiiid  ktpt  as  though  they  were  made  Ijy  authority  of  rArliaiiieiit, 
find  also  one  other  Act,  made  hi  the  Parliament  holden  in  the  tlmty- 
fourth  year  of  thtt  reign  nf  the  said  late  Kiiig  Henry  VIIL,  fof  the  due 
execution  of  t.he  sard  pro^lamationsj  ajid  also  aU.  imd  every  branch, 
article,  and  mattc-ra  in  the  same  statutes,  and  in  every  of  them, 
mentinned  or  declared,  shall  from  henceforth  he  repeated^  and  utterly 
made  void  and  oj'  no  effect."  No\v  it  is  a  wiuU-setth^d  principle  of  law 
that  any  obliyutiun  flowing  from  a  statutcj  either  immfdiakhj  or 
mediaitlif  (i.  t:,  from  some  rale  or  onier  made  in  pnrauauee  of  povvera 
grantcil  hy  a  statute),  becomes  null  and  void  as  aoon  as  thu  statute  is 
repealed.* 

It  is  on  this  ground  that  when  it  ia  mtended  to  keep  alive  what 
has  been  ju-eviously  done  luider  the  powers  of  a  repealed  Act,  a 
saving  clause  is  always  inserted  to  tliia  effect  in  the  Act  which. 
repeaJa  it. 

To  take  a  recent  instance,  the  Acts  in  relation  to  Kiiendly  Societies 
gave  tliose  hodiea  power  to  make  rules  for  their  own  government,  and 
lieclared  that  when  iluly  made  and  ceTtificd  by  a  hamster  appointed 
for  that  pni-pose,  they  should  be  biudiny  on  the  members  of  sueh 
societies.  By  13  &  14  Vict.,  c.  115,  the  law  concerning  Friendly 
Societies  wns  modihed,  and  the  previous  Acts  rel:^ealed.  But  in  order 
t<i  prevent  rules  ah-eady  made  under  those  Acts  from  becoming  void, 
which  woultl  necessarily  have  ensued,  and  M'ould  have  been  inconve- 
uient,  the  Act  contained  an  express  clause,  "  that  such  repeal  shall 
aot  invalidtite  or  atleot  anything  which  has  been  done  Ijefore  the 
pasaiDg  q1'  tills  Act,  in  pursuance  of  any  of  the  said  Acta,"  The 
iujuncti<^n.  therefore!,  cannot  be  cousidei'^d  as  having  any  pEirliaiueu- 
tary  authnrity  in  the  aecoud  year  of  Kiny  EdwarnL  Conseq^ueutly, 
it  cannot  be  referred  to  under  these  terms  in  the  rubric,  and  its 

'  See  tlie  csMB  of  Surteep  v-  Elliaop,  fl  Btirti.  miJ  Crcsa,,  752 ;  Kny  v.  Goodwin,  6 
Bbj..  576;  Keg.  T.  Mawgan,  &  AJ.  and  EIL,  49(5  ^  Harrow  v.  Amaad,  S  Q.  15.,  596. 
Mr.  Badeley  cipreasij-  ndniil*.  this  in  his  opinioa,  to  wliifli  we  liave  before  refc-rroil.  Uo 
ttyi,  "  I  caimol  rogartl  Ihtm  [the  injuiictioiis]  na  faaviug  iLe  force  of  Inw  in  the  second 
ycar-fif  Edward  \L,  iiiaannich  as  Oib  atjvtut«  31  Hen.  Ylll.,  i:.  8,  whifh  gave  tlio  effect 
of  ui  Act  of  I'arliamE'Ut  to  She  Kiu^'»]iro(:Iaiimtion,  vuanipeai&dby  Oicetalutu  1  Edw.  VI-, 
c.  12, 1.  4 ;  Olid  ai  no  ecscrvatioa  vat-  mnde  in  ttis  latter  statuto  in  fnvour  of  ika  proda- 
nulkiui  iMU«ii  imdtjr  tbc  proviaioiiB  of  Ibe  fonner,  it  ie  plain  tliat.  what  those  injunctioatf 
ic^nired  r.9iini>t  bo  deemed  to  haA'a  1]0(!n  iu  uac  by  autlioritj'  of  I'u-linment  in  tlio  3«M:0]id 
Tear  of  Ed>nud'«rpiEn."  For  this  reaaou  Sir.  Uadclej-  pri'fera  to  rely  on  tlie  aigumcDt 
(mn  Uie  ofioiont  <-imoa5,  with  wMch  ve  buvc  cadcaToiuvd  Co  deal  already. 


24 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


hearing  on  tlie  matter  is  thns  disposed  of.  Huwever,  it  may  not  lie 
amiss  to  mention  in  passui^',  that  by  another  Eoyal  I'roclamation  put 
tVirtli  only  two  yenre  later — viz,,  in  154'9 — the  clause  in  question  was 
Avlnilly  aiiitulled,  and  it  was  ordered — 

"  nmt  all  parsoDG,  vicara,  and  cumtea  omit,  in  the  reading  of  the  iiyunc- 

tionSf  all  SHc'h.  tta  niuke  mention  flf  tha  Popish  Mnsa,  of  chanlries,  of  candles 
upon  the  altar,  or  any  other  aurh  like  thing. 

"  Item  for  a  uniformity :  That  no  miniaU^r  tin  counterfeit  the  Popiiih 
Masa,  BO  afl  to  ikiss  the  Lord's  tahlo ;  woBhing  hia  fingors  at  evorj'  time  la. 
thii  communion  ;  "blessing  hia  eyH?s  ivitli  tlie  pattti  or  au(](iry ;  or  crofleingj 
his  head  with  thff  pjiton  j  Bhifting  of  the  hook  Ironi  one  place  to  another  ; 
laying  down  and  licking  the  chalice  of  the  eommtmion  ;  holding  np  his 
fingers,  hiirnls,  or  thujiilis,  joined  towards  his  temples  ;  Lreatliiug  upon  tho^ 
bread  or  chalice;  showing  the  sacrament  openly  before  the  distribution  of 
thiL- coltimunion ;  ringing  of  sacrj'iiig  hells;  or  setting  any  light  upon  the 
Lotd's  hoard  at  any  time;  and  finally  to  use  no  other  ccrenionicK  than  ate 
[i]>pointed  in  tlie  King's  Book  of  Common  PtayeTj  or  kneeling  otherwise 
tlian  is  in  the  said  book."  • 

U]inn  tbe  whole,  then,  the  conclusion  to  which  we  are  led  is,  that 
there  ia  no  gi-omid  to  impugn  the  decision  of  tlie  Judicial  Committee, 
■\vliieh  states  the  effect  of  the  rubric  to  he  "that  the  same  dress  and 
the  same  utensils  or  articles  whitfh  were  used  imder  the  first  Prayer- 
book  of  Edward  VI.  may  still  be  used." 

But  there  is  yet  a  final  question.  la  the  nibrie  exclusive  ?  Does 
it  mean  that  tho.5e  nn(l  twne  other  are  to  be  retained  ? 

I>r.  Lnshington  thought  that  "that  which  the  Church  has  pre- 
scribed is  a  Wrtnal  prohiliition  of  everv'thing  else  rjiistifim^  gnirris"'f 
Sir  Jolm  Dodson  appear  to  have  cloubted.|  Tbe  Judicial  Committee 
held  tliiit  "  the  word  '  onianients. '  applies,  and  in  tbia  rubric  is  eouHued, 
to  those  artid&s  the  use  of  which  in  the  services  and  niinistrations  of 
the  Church  la  proscribeil  I>y  the  Prayer-liook  of  Etlward  VI,"§ 

This  appears  on  all  aceounta  to  be  the  only  satisfactory  \iew ;  a  rule 
which  penoits  of  indefinite  additions  is  for  pmctical  purposes  little 
better  than  no  rule  at  all. 

That  the  franiern  of  the  fii'st  Prayer-book  of  Edwanl  YT.  uitcuded 
that  uutliinfi  else  should  be  used  except  what  was  therein  mentioned 
is  sufHciently  e'\ident;  for  in  the  IVeface  it  is  said,  "Furthermore, 
by  this-  oi-der  the  citrates  pliall  need  none  other  books  for  theii  public 
service  but  this  botjk  suid  the  Bible." 

This  is.  a  plain  proof  that  notliing  more  iwed  be  used.  And  almost 
tbe  next  stmtence  (whieh  still  stantU  in  our  present  I'rayei-book) 
shows  that  there  was  to  be  no  such  thing  as  a  voluntary  use  liei-e  and 

•  CanlwcU'*  Doc.  AnniJs,  toI.  i.,  p.  'i.     The  Act  of  Unilbrmity,  establislung  Iho  n?ir 
rmyct-book,  had  paased  in  the  int«iTal  hetwt«n  the  fomuir  iajunctioiu  ojul  thine. 
t  Moons's  R<i>f  on  «f  WefitMton  v.  Liildcll,  p.  60. 
JJ^irf.,  p.  9i,  §JStf.,  p.  156. 


Ritualism  and  the  Ecclesiastical  Law.  25 

there  of  more  than  was  enjoined : — "  "Whereas  heretofore  there  hath 
been  great  diversity  in  saying  and  singing  in  churches  within  this 
realm ;  .  .  .  now  from  henceforth  all  the  whole  realm  shall  have 
but  one  use."  And  by  the  Act  of  Uniformity  (2  &  3  Edw.  VI., 
c.  1),  all  ministers  are  to  say  the  mattins,  evensong,  celebration 
of  the  Lord's  Supper,  commonly  called  the  Mass,  and  administration  of 
each  of  the  sacraments,  and  all  their  common  and  open  prayer,  in 
such  order  and  form  as  is  mentioned  in  the  said  book,  and  none  other 
or  otherwise."  And  "if  any  manner  of  parson,  &c.,  .  .  .  shall 
use,  wilfully  and  obstinately  standing  in  the  same,  any  other  rite, 
ceremony,  order,  form,  or  manner  of  Mass  openly  or  privily,  or  mattins, 
evensong,  administration  of  the  sacraments,  or  other  open  prayer  than 
is  mentioned  and  set  forth  in  the  said  book,"  he  is  to  suffer  the 
penalties  of  the  Act. 

And  by  1  Eliz.,  c.  2,  s.  27,  it  is  enacted  "that  all  laws,  statutes, 
and  ordinances  wherein  or  whereby  any  other  service,  administration 
of  sacraments,  or  common  prayer,  is  limited,  established,  or  set  forth  to 
be  used  within  this  realm,  or  any  other  the  Queen's  dominions  or 
countries,  shall  from  henceforth  be  utterly  void  and  of  none  effect." 

And  all  these  clauses  are  brought  over  Mid  made  to  apply  to  the 
enforcing  of  our  present  Prayer-book  by  13  &  14  Car.  II,,  c.  4;  and 
it  is  tliereby  enacted  that  all  ministera  are  to  use  the  various  services 
"  in  such  order  and  form  as  is  mentioned  in  the  said  hook,"  and  this 
"  to  the  intent  that  every  person  within  this  realm  may  certainly 
know  the  rule  to  which  he  is  to  conform  in  public  worship  and  admi- 
nistration  of  saci-aments,  and  other  rites  and  ceremonies  of  the  Church 
of  England."  How  would  this  intent  be  effected  if  altar  lights  were 
to  be  lighted  at  particular  times,  and  other  ceremonies  performed  of 
which  there  is  no  mention  in  the  rubric,  and  for  which  guidance 
must  be  sought  in  the  ancient  service-books?  And  in  speaking  of 
these  books  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that,  at  the  time  at  which  our 
present  Prayer-book  was  set  forth  in  its  latest  form,  viz.,  the  reign  of 
Charles  II.,  they  were  not  only  not  books  in  every  one's  hands,  but 
were  absolutely  prohibited,  ITie  3  &  4  Edw.  VI.,  c.  10,  was  then  in 
force  (being  reWved  by  1  Jac.  I.,  c.  25,  s.  48),  and  speaking  of 
the  ancient  service-books,  this  Act  says,  "  Which  for  that  they  be  not 
calletl  in,  but  permitted  to  remain  imdefaced,  do  not  only  give  occa- 
sion to  such  perverse  persons  as  do  impugn  tlie  order  and  godly 
meaning  of  the  King's  said  Book  of  Common  l*rayer,  to  continue  in 
their  old  accustomed  superstitious  service,  bvit  also  minister  great 
wciision  to  diversity  of  opinions,  rites,  ceremonies,  and  services ;"  and 
it  enacts  "  that  all  books  called  antiphoners,  missals,  grails,  proces- 
sionals, manuals,  legends,  pica,  portuasses,  jjrimers  in  Latin  or  English, 
coHchers,  journals,  ordinals,  or  other  books  or  writings  whatsoever. 


26 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


heretofore  uaetl  for  sen^iccs  of  tlie  C'lniit'b,  written  or  printed  in  the 
English  OP  Latin  tonjrne,  other  than  such  as  are  or  shall  Iw  set  forth  hy 
the  King's  Majesty,  shall  lie  hy  authority  of  this  prt-sent  Act  cleanly 
and  utterly  abolished,  extinf^uisltcd^  and  forbidden  for  ever  to  be  used 
or  kept  in  tliia  realm,  or  elsewhere  witliin  any  the  King's  dominions." 

And  hy  3  Jac.  1,  c.  r»,  s-  2fi,  it  is  eiificteil  that  no  person  shall  "  bring 
from  beyond  the  seas,  nor  shall  print,  sell,  or  buy  any  I'opish  primers, 
missals,  breWaries,  &c." 

The  case  then  aeems  to  stand  thus :— ^Ul  directions  as  to  certain 
ancient  ceremonies^  and  as  to  the  use  of  tertain  ancient  orn.iments, 
are  "left  out"*  of  the  rubrics  of  oiir  present  Book,  while  at  the  same 
time  the  Acts  nie  allowed  to  remain  in  ibvce  that  render  ille^I 
the  possession  of  the  books  from  which  the  appropriate  directions 
might  be  obtained,  Wlrnt  stronger  indication  cotthl  be  given  that  siich 
ceremonies  and  ornaments  were  not  to  Iw  nsed? 

Lastly,  that  the  public  authorities,  in  the  reign  of  EdTcaiti  VI.,  con- 
sidered the  intention  of  the  Legislating  to  be  that  no  other  ceremonies 
should  be  used  than  those  mentioned  in  the  PrayeT-hook  then  issue*!, 
may  fairly  be  leathered  from  the  Itoyal  ProL'lamatioii  or  injunctions  of 
lo49,  as  cited  above  (p.  24).  These  expressly  enjoin  upon  the  clergj'" 
"  to  use  no  other  ceremonies  tlifui  are  appointed  in  the  Kinf,''s  Book  of 
Common  Prayer,"  and  there  secmis  no  reason  to  doubt  that  they  were 
put  ferth  with  a  hcniA  JUic  purpose  of  carrying  out  the  new  enactment 
aa  it  was  then  understood.  *f 

"  tt  is  hoKlly  poftsiblo  to  rciid  tln>  Preface  w  iho  Prayer-book  without  fpoling  flat  flie 
n'orila  "left  out,''  in  iha  paragmphs  conreraing  the  service  of  the  Churth,  ars  iiacd  u 
cijuiviliiit  l-a  '*  ahcliehed  "  in  tlic  pnrapraphs  "  of  oerctiionieB." 

t  The  ri'spegt  wtith  is  due  tfl  the  pusitjutt  of  llie  RtL'order  of  Saliebiiry,  Mr.  Joho  D- 
Chambera,  induces  us  to  give,  in  a  note,  an  opinian  by  ln'm  on  (lie  siLl)JL>ct  of  vltar  lighli, 
vhile  nt  the  same  liuii;  irc  aEiall  luld,  a9  briclljr  ns  puagiblo  (to  ivuid  rcpc'liltun),  isuch 
ohaoFVfltioDB  aa  ii]ii>«ir  to  ua  Ut  dispose  of  tbo  ai^untouta  which  he  uses.  It  is  cxn-ftclt-d 
from  n  {vnpcr  by  him  on  the  offoct  of  the  judgQii::t]it  in  Wftst^rtoa  t.  Li.idell.  whirh  is  given 
at  Iwgth  ia  the  Appendix  to  tho  '■^  Dir^torium  ^Vnglic-anum "  (2nd  Edit.,  Loudon,  t803}. 
AfWr  liiioiKsing  odior  ijobts  he  aaji,- — 

"  Ijistly,  "^"ith  rt'giird  to  light*.  Aa  to  these,  there  ^oiild  he  no  dlffltullj-,  Imt  that  the 
rrivyCoiiQi:!!  hflru  most  tulpably  re(\]Be(l  toiluuido  the  point  oe  to  the  purliamentaryflutho- 
Fily  of  Ihc  anciunt  ecrlcsiastifol  conatituliona,  canona,  nnd  conimau  law,  which  expressly 
roquirad  '  cundles  to  bo  lijjhtoJ  while  tho  sulenmicies  of  the  JIasa  wefi)  hiiing  performed.' " 

It  is  Biilimilttd  [hat  the  point,  so  far  na  this  (jneation  ia  (one'erntJ,  waa,  in  fact,  4ccidfd. 
Tboir  Loiiiutips  any,  "Tbo  word  •onmmflnls'  upplies,  nnd  in  this  rubric  is  conflncd,  to 
thoH  nrticles  the  usti  uf  whiuh,  in  the  iw^rriiies  nnd  id  Ink)  rations  gf  the  Cburch,,  ta  prii- 
Bcribed  by  the  Prayer-book  of  Edwoi-d  VI. ;"  and  agaiii,  "■  Their  Lordships  entirelj-  agre« 
•  .  .  that,  in  the  Iii;rJi)rmaiil;<:  of  Ibo  iCMi'iei'-.i,  rituj!,  uid  crremonirs  ordei'eil  by  tlid 
Pxayei-Book,  tho  directions  coQUin<.4  in  it  must  he  ftrittly  obMn-cd ;  that  no  oiuiasion 
anil  no  a<ldition  enji  bo  penuiLtcd.'"^Jfofli-fl'f  JHepert,  pp.  1-56  and  187. 

Mr.  Chumhers  proeceds, — 

"  Omitting,  hu-B-cTPr,  nil  refereneg  to  this  iiwpstion,  1  think  it  pluiii  that  lijihts  nt  the 
Celebration  of  Holy  Commimion  nro  lnwliil,  though  nut  obligator!',  for,  amongst  many 
othon,  the  foUowiag  retaoas: — 1.  The  Croaa  w^a  retained  ia  a  decoration  by  the  Pi-ivy 


i 


I 

I 


RUnalism  and  the  EccUsiastual  Law.  27 

At  leuj2th  Itpn  ^^'C  liave  arrived  at  a  landing-place.  We  have  lieou 
leiJ  to  it  liy  a  lung,  smJ  to  luiiiiy,  we  tbar,  a  wearisoiiie  pt'ocoss,  but  it 
ia  well  worth  gaininj,'. 


Citimcil,  bccauso  '  an  cmWein  of  tlie  Chriatiiui  faith '  Iit'W  in  preot  rcpnty  and  used  by  the 
«4r1y  CbriattaaB."  [He  thfii  ptocL'^da  ti>  alloge  curtab  iLni'ient  aulboritk's  ibr  tha  line  of 
lights,  and  then  DoncliidL's : — ]  "Ht-nco,  Xhvsc  ligbu  we?^  like  tlie  Crcoe  primitive,  uid  hsA 
no  relaliun  lo  Hup«rBlitioiiB,  and  ary  used  as  '  embluius  of  the  Chriitian  faith/  " 

The  shoit  nnstrer  appears  to  bo  that  Ihp  Cros»  was  sanetioBcd  as  n  " decoratioa"'  oulj", 
whercfl.'a  ultif  lights,  in  tho  setisi*  in  whirL  wo  ate  now  ooncerted  with  thuin,  are  of  i 
rilufc]  or  ceremoijiil  charatter;  and  ihut  there  is  tht-refiiro  nn  analogj-.     The  pnaango  cited 
Bt  p-  13  from  the  "  Direct oriiiia"  surely  catabliahus  this  puint  beyond  disimte. 
His  scfuud  niguineiit  is,-— 

"  2.  Became  candlesticks  appear  as  part  of  tbe  Aimiture  of  very  numoronA  chtirdies,  in 
the  ioTeutorieB,  up  l-o  tht  t-nti  of  Edward  the  Svitli'H  reign," 

So  do  many  churthes  poasesa  c-andlcaticks  now ;  but  it  dow  not  foUow  that  they  arc  fof 
this  particular  lae.  Seiidfa,  there  is  no  reflson  to  doubt  that  articIcB  may  hoTO  remainod 
uniDug  th«  ^ooda  of  tlie  church  loQg  oftor  their  uao  m-us  diarontiiLUDd. 

"3.  SecaiiH  the  parlinmcnlary  auLhority  of  the  iajimctfons  of  £dv^'aId  VL,  re<quijiDg 
tlieiT light*  'to  remain  still,'  was  recognised  by  hglh  the  lupi^rior  Courts  as  in  farce  in  the 
leCDnd  year  of  Edward  VI.,  and  has  never  bc-un  repealed.'" 

"Wc  tttihttiit  Ihnt  wo  hare  alruady  ahowTi  thai,  £f  these  iiijunetiona  ever  had  }iarlin>»eitfttfy 
a.tLlhoriiy,  they  lost  it  by  the  repeal  of  the  Act  undn-f  wlui-h  they  wero  issued,  and  that 
tpvol  woJi  in  tbe  Jinl  year  ai  Edward.     ^Vo  bod  nothing  in  iho  jud^enl  of  the 
Cvmnuttfii  hostilti  to  lUa  view,  or  ivhieh  niakca  thi.^ra  ui  any  way  n  coueuirvat 
,iy  with  the  ruhrie  na  to  thjngfl  used  in  the  wTviees. 
"  4.  The  expre«a  Btalement  of  Cualn,  that,  iy  virtue  a/  cAm  rubric  aird  thru  ittJuHftittfit, 
lighia  werp  in  sery  geDeml  use  during  the  reigM  of  EUKs-belJi  und  JcitnGe  I-  and  the 
itatemKnt  of  Fuller  to  (ho  same  effect,  is  itrong  hiitorical  cridence." 

tMiiat-lbibg'  more  than  loose  Atat^meiDts  of  itBngo  is  required  to  OTcrtiirR  a  dir^tinet 
legal  argiui]i;nt.  CiJcss  the  evideute  be  perrt'ttly  dislLtn-t,  and  the  omga  I*  ahown  to 
}UTB  been  vitfa  the  approbation  of  the  cbnBtitutionaJ  authoTiticd,  a  lawyer  li^e  Mr. 
Qiuiilets  would,  on  (jaueidtiution,  probably  feel  that  no  great  reliance  ton  be  placed 
upon  ft. 

"5.  Becauie  the  'lights'  are  ''quite  consiitent  with  th-Q  pr^aent  aerrice,'  like  the 
uredniee,  ood  with  the  idea  of  a  feast  and  a  table," 

Th*  lights  are  by  way  of  "  addition"  in  tho  "performance  of  tho  getrices  otdcied  hy 
the  I'layiT-boob,"  and  tberffoTO  connoL  bo  pL-rmittcid,     A  credent:*  table  was  KmolJoncd 
biTBUse  it  was  an  "  article  "  nut  niortly  "cunaistcnt  with,"  but  "  jsubsidiary  to  the  sor- 
•icv,"  and  In  fiict  re<]uiriid  in  order  to  comply  with  ihs  diroctloua  of  Uie  ruhrie,     (Sw 
Mcoro'*  ItjTXvrt,  p.  IS") 
"  d.   Bei-nuBL*  other  Pr-ite-staut  bo<liet  use  them,  aa  tho  Lutherans  do,  and  Luther  did." 
This  Liu  a  doctrinal  nither  thoii  a  Icjgal  hearing,  and  drH?a  nut  fall  within  our  subjcet. 
"7-  lifcnuM-,  even  repirding  the  'iiigb  nliur'  ftaabohahcd,  the  iila«Q  w/rft-e  they  arolo 
I*  put  ia  iminatariBl ;  they  arc  adJnnctJ  of  '  tho  sacFament,'  ont  of  the  altar," 

TbLs  propoaition  seems  to  reQuire  more  proof.  At  must,  it  oidy  goca  to  one  of  the 
objoctioB*  ai;ainfrt  altar  lifhta,  Tlit  otlicrv  are  uJisU'L''^Ctd  by  it-  And  it  may  ^^  sddL'd 
that  ihc  Jiidici[il  CoDiRiittei!  appeurn  to  havo  eonsidered  altar  lighta  aa  euential  adjuncts 
it  an  alliLT.     [See  Mowre's  Report,  p,  179.) 

"  8.  Bernuse  tfac  dndsxation  of  the  Coiul:,  that  croaaea  are  to  he  excluded  from  the  ficr- 

riM  tKfflUM>  not  Btiintinncd  in  E^ti'nt-d'd  IJrat  Ijook,  i^nciot  apply  to  '  lights,'  whii^h  ar«  ia 

bnc  by  vinoe  of  another  and  iciilependent  authority  of  ParliiLaient,  ca-exifltiuj;  ui  tbat 

Kond  year,  and  not  repc.iled  by  that  book." 

Vo  traat  we  htno  flhoi<''n  that  snth  in  not  the  cue,  nnd  tbat  t^  Fniyer-bock  wch  sub- 


38 


The  Coniemporary  Review. 


We  have  foiuid  that  the  lej^nl  effect  cif  the  jiiiljirnicDt  of  the  Judicial 
Coiumitttfe  (which  in  an  hmiible  way  we  have  endeavoured  to  explain 
and  vindicate  agiiiust  mi'ia])])yeheiision  and  olijection)  is  to  put  a  very 
dulinity  and  distinct  inteiiiretation  upon  the  rubric  at  the  commence- 
ment of  our  present  Book  of  Common  Prayer.  That  nibrio,  when  it 
speakft  qf  "  the  authority  of  I'arlioiiient  in  the  second  yeai'  of  the  reijj;n 
tif  King  Etlwartl  W," is  to  be  deemed  to  refer  to  the  iirst  Prayer-book 
of  that  nionai-cli. 

The  ornaments  reengnised  by  our  rubric,  and  by  it  invusted  vritTi  n 
le^  sanction,  are  "tlitt  sDvytaJ  articles  used  iu  the  petfo^mflllc^?  of  the 
services  and  rites  of  the  Church"  wliich  are  mentioned  in  that  Prayer- 
book. 

The  Church  does  not  raean  to  sanction  -whatever  articles  were  in  use 
in  Divine  servica  at  any  time  dining  the  second  year  of  King  EdwanJ 
— a  matter  to  be  detemiiued  (if  at  all)  only  by  a  seavcli  into  inedijeval 
canons,  missals,  and  breviaries.  On  the  contrary,  we  are  referred  at 
once  to  the  rise  of  the  Reformation,  and  to  the  first  I^yer-book  in  the 
English  tongue. 

It  may  be  eaidj  jhcrhaps,  tliat  the  application  of  tliia  test  gives  us 
one  or  two  vestments  for  the  cle-n^jy  which  are  not  now  commonly  in 
xiae.  If  tliis  be  so,  and  if  it  be  thought  right  to  revive  them,  they 
will  be  revi^'ed,  not  because  foimd  in  niudijeval  missals,  but  because 
thouglit  worthy  to  he  retained  by  our  early  reformers.  On  tlie  other 
hand,  the  negative  resulLs  of  the  rule  will  be  found  to  be  important 
and  decisi-s-e.  They  may  be  briefly  illustrated  by  one  more  <iuutatiun 
from  ritualist  sources. 

It  is  well  known  that  a  claim  has  been  put  forward  by  the  ritualist 

rtitotoii  for,  aud  dldtKit  merely  co-exiat  with,  prcviouB  laws;  but  jbrtlic  proof  of  thii*  0>e 
render  omat  tjif  irfernHl  to  ourpiBBoiu  pagcsj  whici  ciuuiot  n&w  be  rcpentc^- 

"H.  That  'L'glita"  nre  '  4MwrntioiV8,'  not  '  ornamcivts,'  ss  interpreted  by  Om  PriYjf 
Couucil,  and  are  not  foTbitild«a  to  be  u»g<1  bI  any  time  or  any  ploe*." 

The  jiidgioent  soys,  "  All  the  BCVtraJ  artitlLS  used  in  the  porfonnaneo  of  tbo  Mmces 
and  rites  i>f  the  Church  are  omamcuta  "  (Moorc'a  Report,  p.  1S6) ;  and  thoM  oiv  dj*tin- 
fiuishDd  froin  "  articlca  not  uwd  in  th«  ei^t'TieM,  hul  set  up  in  chiirthcB  as  -(iraameDU,  in 
thti  Hcnse  of  dacorntraiia  "  (p.  loQ).  Now  the  *' Dix-eMorium  Angliduium  "  tella  us  tliut 
Iho  oltar  lights  ''should  bo  lighted  immediately  bcfoiv  the  Cowiuiunion  iS«rvice  by  the 
■clerk  in  caasock,  gr  in  cnsEOL-k.  and  eurpILt'e'.  He  should  niaki;  a  reverento  bt'torc  ascend- 
ing to  light  them,  nod  conimento  on.  the  EpiatlB  side," 

It  may  probnbly  be  safely  lofli  to  the  reader  to  eay  nmder  which  cIms  thcM  lights,  BO  \o 
bo  used  and  lighted,  m»Bt  iiatiinilly  fall.  And  it  way  be  added  that  Dr.  llttLedalft 
expn.'ealy  (tonti^nda  fjr  thuci  as  ornamrnts. 

"  lo.  For  raa^oiu  formerly  given,  ninl  to  avoid  roising  Home  of  theao  questioiia,  I  should 
reconimtud  these  'lights,"  which  mny  iBBue  from  cnndlus  or  l«  cf  gn*,  ehould  he  placed 
on  thrt  IiidgD  or  auper-nltBr,  now  to  he  raised  behind  the  tahle,  and  be  huoiq  distatkeo  shotifi 
it,  or  bw  in  the  shape  of  standard*  beftire  the  tatilu." 

This  certainly  luoks  like  a  want  of  confidence  in  the  injtmetioiis,  whiLh  speak  of  "  Iwft 
Ughls  upon  the  high  altar,"'  and  has  altogether  the  air  of  a  coinpriiiiii6c,  iJuL  it  duns  not 
oifect  the  mnin  krguiuciit,  and  we  Lhecoforo  forbear  to  remark  uptm  it. 


Ritualism  and  the  Ecclesiastical  Law.  29 

school  on  behalf  of  the  use  of  incense  m  the  service.     The  "Dircc- 
torium  Anglicanum  "  has  the  following  on  the  subject  of  incense : — 

"  Directions  for  the  Use  of  Incense  at  Hlfjh  Celebration  of  the  Uohj 

Eticharist. 

"  A  quarter  of  an  hour  before  the  celebration,  the  thurifer  should  present 
himself  at  the  sacristy,  put  on  the  cassock  and  cotta,  and,  in  deiault  of  the 
acolytes,  assist  the  sacred  ministers  to  vest. 

"  The  pri^t,  deacon,  and  sub-deacon  being  vested,  the  blessing  of  tho 
incense  to  be  used  in  the  procession  takes  place,  immediately  before  leaving 
the  sacristy.  The  celebrant  receives  the  spoon  from  the  deacon,  who  says, 
'  Be  pleased,  reverend  father,  to  give  a  blessing ; '  he  then  takes  incense 
from  the  navicula  or  incense  boat  (held  by  the  deacon,  who  receives  it  from 
the  thurifer),  and  puts  it  on  the  charcoal  in  three  several  portions,  each  time 
sprinkling  it  in  the  form  of  a  cross.  Then,  in  accordance  with  the  deacon's 
pniyer,  he  blesses  the  incense  with  his  right  hand,  saying,  *  Be  thou  blessed 
by  Him  in  whoso  honour  thou  art  to  be  burned.'  The  thurible  ia  held  by 
tbe  thurifer  whilst  the  iucenae  is  put  in.  The  procession  then  moves  into 
the  aisle  in  the  following  order : — 

"  1,  Thimfer,  with  thurible  smoking,  preceded  by  the  cross-bearer. 
"  2.  Acolytes.* 

"  3.  Clergy,  two  and  two  in  reverse  order ;  the  post  nearest  the  celebrant 
being  the  place  of  honour. 
"  4.  Procession  of  celebrant : 
"  a.  Sub-deacon  and  deacon. 
"/3.  Tho  celebrant 
*'iV.S. — If  a  bishop  bo  present,  he  precedes  the  celebrant    This  supposes 
him  not  to  act  pontificalhj.-\ 

"  The  celebrant,  standing  before  the  midst  of  the  altar,  turns  round  by 
his  light,  and  then,  with  his  side  to  the  altar,  puts  incense  into  the  thurible, 
the  deacon  ministering  tho  spoon  and  holding  the  boat  as  before.  The 
priest  then  blesses  (nccreto)  the  incense  with  the  words  already  mentioned. 
He  then  receives  the  thurible  from  the  deacon  and  incenses  the  midst  of 
the  altar  and  the  two  comers.  The  celebrant  himself  is  tlien  incensed  by 
the  deacon.  After  the  Introit  the  i)rie3t  again  incenses  the  altar.  Tho 
next  incensing  takes  place  before  the  Gospel, — the  midst  of  the  altar  is 
alone  incensed  by  tlie  deacon, — the  lectern  from  which  the  Gospel  is  read 
is  tiever  incensed. 

"  When  the  oblations  are  placed  upon  the  altar,  they  are  incensed  by  the 
celebrant,  who  is  afterwards  incensed  by  the  deacon.  -An  acolyte  then 
incenses  the  choir.  The  next  ond  last  incensing  takes  place  (in  the  West) 
after  the  consecration.  When  the  consecration  and  adoration  of  the  Sacred 
Body  are  over,  the  deacon  rises  and  removes  the  pall  from  tho  chalice  ;  and 
after  the  consecration  and  adoration  of  the  Precious  Blood,  he  replace.?  it, 
the  chief  assistant  having  incensed  the  Body  and  Blood  of  our  LonL"  J 

Now  let  us  compare  this  pompous  vision  with  the  law  of  the  sober 
and  reformed  Church  of  England, 
A  very  few  words  will  be  sufficient. 

•  "In  the  West  alighted  torch  is  carried  in  the  outside  hand."    (Xotc  in  "nircctoriuni.") 
■f  "  When  a  bishop  acts  pontificollj',  ho  goes  laat  in  the  procts^ion,  «'itb  an  attendant 
pricit  on  either  side." — Ibidem. 
X  "  Direct.  Anglic,"  p.  73. 


30  The  Contcmpordiy  Review. 

The  thiirible,  the  incense,  tlie  cross,  tLe  torch,  are  omiimcnta  not  found 
in  the  first  Pmyer-l>ook  of  Edwaiil  VI.  Accoitlmg',  therefore,  to  the 
jn'inciple  to  which  we  have  tDdtiavonred  to  call  attfiitJon,  they  anj 
iiCiLuthorized  by  our  pi-esent  rubric^  the  directirma  contiiiueJ  in  which 
(we  are  told  by  autliority)  "must  be  strictly  observed,"  and  "nu 
oniissioTL  and  no  addition  can  be  pennitted."* 

Althoiij-h  altars  (not  l>eiiig  ornaments)  do  not  fidl  within  the  terms 
of  the  nibric  which  we  have  lately  been  more  especially  cousidering, 
they  came  very  prouiinently  before  the  Judicial  Committee;  and  we 
cannot  conclude  without  contrasting  the  laiiguay;e  of  the  extract 
■which  we  have  just  y:iven  on  that  subject  with  the  following  senteuces 
from  their  Lordships'  jud^Tuent : — 

"  When  the  snme  thing  13  signified,  it  may  not  be  of  much  iEiportance  by 
wliat  nami?  it  is  called  ;  but  the  distiaction  Itetwe'en  an  altar  and  a  com- 
muninn  table  i»  in  itscK  essL'ntial,  and  deeply  fi^undt^  in  the  most  important 
difTL^rGQce  in  umtb?rs  of  fiilth  between  Protestants  and  Eomanists,  namely,  in 
the  dilTvrent  notions  of  the  nature  of  the  Lord'a  Supper  which  prevailed  in 
the  Roman  Ciath<ilic  Church  at  the  time  of  the  Kefonuation,  and  those 
whieh  were  introduced  by  the  Eefonneta.  By  the  former  it  was  con^ideteil 
as  a  sacriiiee  of  the  body  and  blooil  of  the  Saviour.  The  altar  was  the  pkca 
on  which  the  sacritice  was  to  be  made  ;  the  elements  were  to  be  consecratfld, 
and  beitig;  so  consecrated,  wflre  treated  as  the  actual  body  aad  blood  of  the 
victim.  The  Keformers,  on  the  othcir  hand,  tonBidcred  the  Holy  Cominunitin 
not  as  a  aacr[ii;;e,  but  as  n  fcaat  to  be  celehmte-d  at  the  Lord's  tabic,  though, 
as  to  the  conaecratioa  of  tlw  elements,  ami  th«  i-flect  of  this  consecration, 
and  several  other  points,  they  difl'c-rcd  greatly  amongst  themselves. "f 

Accordingly,  a  monition  was  directeti  to  the  churchwardena  "  to 
iBmove  the  structure  of  Btone  used  as  a  communion  table  in  the 
church  or  chapel  of  St.  Banialias,  together  with  the  cros3  on  or  near  the 
same,  and  to  provide  instead  thereof  a  fliit  moveable  table  of  wood." 

Benjamin  Shaw. 


•  See  ju<3Enn?nt  of  Jwdiuiiil  Committee  in  "WeHterton  r:  liddgU.— CMuoro,  p,  187.)  In 
fact.  Dr.  LitUeduJo  j^Biifies  the  hbo  of  inoeuse  situply  on  the  grflund  gf  its,  usa  pifvivM  to 
the  fimt  Prttjer-book  flf  Edward  VT-,  t.  e.,  on  the  mitliority  of  the  mediitTiU.  i^aooas  and 
«ervic(!-buok» ;  and  it  a  from  the  Itciman,  Sorum,  cmd  York  Missals  tbat  the  passage  in 
the  "  Direttorium"  is  compiled-  The  lutler,  hoicover,  ftlaO  Telic*  dn  aOtnft  old  JidlWiiiiil 
accounta  Gnawing  ihe  iiae  of  inrerse.  There  is  nothing  to  ahow  thiit  thia  vib  employed  in 
Divino  BtTvite,  or  fur  any  oticr  purpose  tlian  ihi>  allowable  one  gf  purif jing  tho  aii  of  thn 
ifhurulL.     In  sum?  of  tLcao  mAlaiitus  it  aceoiN  W  liavv  been  for  suiulary  purpoBU.     Tlius,^ 

"All  HidlowB  Steyning,  I.undon, — 
"  1,503.  In  the  time  of  Bii'kncsjt,  item,  for  juniper  for  ihp  flurrh,  2rf. 

"  16123.  The  ticiifi  uf  God's  viaitutiott,  item,  ]iaid  fut-  10  Ibi.  ut'  fnuiklxicCtiMj  at  3<f.  f«t-  lb., 
2*.  firf." 

Again — "  Jesua  Chiipel,  Cnmliridgt.-, — 
"  15B8.  Junipiir  Lo  air  (he  chapel  OH  &t,  Mnik'e.  dny." — "  Direct.,"  p.  12,  mtt. 

To  alli-go  auth  iuslajujes  in  support  of  a  liluigital  use  of  iuci-cw!  ig  only  naolhcr 
infllnnco  of  the  reinarkahlo  kind  of  wnsoiiing  irith  ivhicli  ihc  "  DircutcriuJii'''  ttbouads,  and 
which  we  1:1070  Ltforis  had  occasicn  to  ngtici;. 

t  Mooro'a  Uejmrt,  f .  IjG. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  THE  CONDITIONED: 

SIE  WILLIAM   HAMILTON  AND  JOHN  STUAET  MILL. 


JU  JbuaiaoluM  i>f  Site  WUliam  SaatiUn'i  Pkita$apltf,  and  </  lit 
princifnl  f\Uatopiutal  QiitttUMt  dii:iut»d  i»  kit  Wriiin^:  Bj 
Jour  SruxBi  Hill.    Londoa,  ises, 

THE  reader  of  Plato's  Eepublic  will  readily  recall  to  mind  that 
wonderful  passage  at  the  end  of  the  sixth  book,  in  which  the 
philosopher,  under  the  image  of  geometrical  lines,  exhibits  the  various 
relations  of  the  intelligible  to  the  sensible  world ;  especially  his  lofty 
aspirations  with  regard  to  "  that  second  s^ment  of  the  intelligible 
world,  which  reason  of  itself  grasps  by  the  power  of  dialectic, 
employing  hypotheses,  not  as  principles,  but  as  veritable  hypotheses, 
that  is  to  say,  as  steps  and  starting-points,  in  order  that  it  may  ascend 
as/ar  as  the  unconditioned  (jiixpi  rou  ativiroOhov),  to  the  first  principle 
of  the  universe,  and  having  grasped  this,  may  then  lay  hold  of  the 
principles  next  adjacent  to  it,  and  so  go  down  to  the  end,  using  no 
sensible  aids  whatever,  but  employing  abstract  forms  throughout,  and 
terminating  in  forms." 

This  quotation  is  important  for  our  present  purpose  in  two  way?. 
In  the  first  place,  it  may  serve,  at  the  outset  of  our  remarks,  to 
propitiate  those  plain-spoken  English  critics  who  look  upon  new 
terms  in  philosophy  mth  tlie  same  suspicion  with  which  Jack  Cade 
regarded  "a  noun  and  a  verb,  and  such  abominable  words  as  no 
(Christian  ear  can  endure  to  hear,"  by  showing  that  the  head  and 
front  of  our  offending,  "  the  Unconditioned,"  is  no  modern  invention 
of  Teutonic  barbarism,  but  sanctioned  even  by  tlie  Attic  elegance  of 
a  Plato.     And  in  the  second  place,  it  contains  almost  a  history  in 


j- 


The  Contemporary  Review, 


miniatiire  of  the  liighcst  specdations  of  pliilosophy,  both  in  earlier  and 
in  later  times,  and  points  outj  with  a  clearness  and.  precision  tbe  more 
viLlnable  l)ecaiise  imiiifluenced  by  re.uent  controversies,  tlie  exact  field 
on  wl;ich  tlie  pliilosopliiea  of  the  Condilioued  and  the  UnLunditiontd 
come  into  collision,  and  the  nature  of  the  problem  which  they  both 
approacli  from  opposite  sides. 

^Ylmt  is  the  nieaning  t>f  this  problem,  the  solution  of  -wlucb  Plato 
proposes  as  the  highest  aim  of  philosophy — "to  ftScefid  to  th.e  ^mcoll- 
ditioned,  and  thence  to  deduce  the  universe  of  conditioned  e.tisbence  "  ? 
The  prnhlem  has  assumed  different  forn*s  at  different  times:  at 
present  we  must  content  ourselves  with  stating  it  in  that  in  ■which  it 
will  most  natnrfllly  suggest  itself  to  a  modem  tldnker,  and  in  which 
it  has  the  moat  direct  bearing  on  the  subject  of  the  present  article. 

AH  consciouanesa  must  in  the  first  instance  present  itaelf  as  a  relation 
between  two  constituent  parts,  the  ]>eraon  who  is  conscious,  and  the 
tliinj,',  whatever  it  may  be,  of  whiuli  he  is  conscious.  This  contrast 
has  been  indicated,  directly  or  indirectly,  by  various  names — mind  ami 
matter ;  pcrstm  and  thing ;  siitijcct  and  object ;  or,  lastly,  in  the  distinc- 
tion, moat  convenient  I'or  pbilosophyj  however  uncouth  in  sound, 
between  self  and  not  self— the  ega  and  the  iiwi-ego.  In  order  to 
be  conacions  at  all,  I  must  be  conscious  of  somethiii<j :  eonaciousnesa 
thus  preaynts  itself  as  the  product  of  two  factors,  /  and  something. 
The  problem  of  the  unconditioned  is,  briefly  stated,  to  reduce  these 
two  factors  to  ane. 

For  it  is  manifest  thatj  so  long  as  they  remain  two,  we  have  no 
miconditioaed,  but  a  pair  of  conditioned  existences.  If  the  somethiiuj 
of  which  I  am  conscious  is  a  sepiirtite  reality,  ha^nug  qualities  and 
moiles  of  action  ol'  its  own^  and  thereby  determining,  or  contributiug  to 
determine,  the  form  which  ray  consciousness  of  it  shall  takcj  ray  con- 
stioiisuGss  is  thereby  conditioned,  or  partly  dependent  ou  something 
beyond  itsell".  It  is  no  matter,  in  this  respect,  whether  the  influence  is 
dii-ect  or  indirect — whether,  fur  instance,  I  see  a  material  ti-ee,  or  only 
the  mental  image  of  a  tree.  If  the  nature  of  the  thing  in  any  degiree 
determines  the  character  of  the  iiiiay;c — if  the  visible  form,  of  a  tree  is 
dillui'ent  from  that  of  a  house  because  the  ti"ee  itself  is  diflerent  frcai 
the  house,  my  couscioiisuesa  is,  however  i-emotely,  inllueD-ced  by  some- 
thinp  diflbrent  fi'om  itself,  the  t-jo  by  the  nuv^ego.  Aiid  ou  the  other 
hand,  if  I,  who  am  conscious,  um  a  real  being;,  distinct  from  the  things 
of  which  I  am  conscious — if  the  conseious  mind  has  a  coa-ititutioii 
and  laws  of  ita  own  hy  which  it  acts,  ami  if  the  mode  of  its  conscious- 
ness  ifl  in  nay  degree  determined  by  tho.se  laws,  the  non-cijft  is  so  fur 
conditioued  by  the  w/i ;  the  thinc^  which  I  see  is  not  seen  absolutely 
and  ptT*  sc,  but  in  a  foiui  partly  deiieiident  upon  the  laws  of  my  vision. 

The  first  step  tiwanls  the  reduction  of  these  two  factors  to  one  may 


J 


The  Philosophy  of  the  Conditioned.  33 

obviously  be  made  in  three  different  ways.     Either  the  ego  may  be 
represented  as  a  mode  of  the  non-ego,  or  the  jion-ego  of  the  ego,  or  both 
of  a  tcrtium  quid,  distinct  from  either.    In  other  words :  it  may  be  main- 
tained, Jirst,  that  matter  is  the  only  real  existence ;  mind  and  all  the 
phenomena  of  consciousness  being  really  the  result  solely  of  material 
laws ;  the  brain,  for  example,  secreting  thought  as  the  liver  secretes 
bile ;  and  the  distinct  personal  existence  of  which  I  am  apparently 
conscious  being  only  the   result  of  some   such  secretion.     This  is 
Materialism,  which  has  then  to  address  itself  to  the  further  problem, 
to  reduce  the  various  phenomena  of  matter  to  some  one  absolutely 
first  principle  on  which  everything  else  depends.     Or  it  may  be  main- 
tained, secondly,  that  mind  is  the  only  real  existence ;  the  intercourse 
which  we  apparently  have  with  a  material  world  being  really  the 
result  solely  of  the  laws  of  our  mental  constitution.    This  is  Idealism, 
which  again  has  next  to  attempt  to  reduce  the  various  phenomena 
to  some  one  immaterial  principle.     Or  it  may  be  maintained,  thirdly, 
that  real  existence  is  to  be  sought  neither  in  mind  as  mind  nor  in 
matter  as  matter ;  that  both  classes  of  phenomena  are  but  qualities  or 
modes  of  operation  of  something  distinct  from  both,  and  on  which  both 
alike  are  dependent.     Hence  arises  a  third  form  of  philosophy,  which, 
for  want  of  a  better  name,  we  will  call  Indifferentism,  as  being  a 
system  in  which  the  characteristic  differences  of  mind  and  matter  bxq 
supposed  to  disappear,  being  merged  in  something  higher  than  both. 
In  usiog  the  two  former  of  these  terms,  we  are  not  speaking  of 
Materialism  and  Idealism  as  they  have  always  actually  manifested 
themselves,  but  only  of  the  distinguishing  principle  of  these  systems 
when  pushed  to  its  extreme  result.     It  is  quite  possible  to  be  a 
materialist  or  an  idealist  with  respect  to  the  immediate  phenomena  of 
consciousness,  without  attempting  a  philosophy  of  the  Unconditioned 
at  all     But  it  is  also  possible,  and  in  itself  natural,  when  such  a 
philosophy  is  attempted,  to  attempt  it  by  means  of  the  same  method 
which  has  approved  itself  in  relation  to  subordinate  inquiries;  to 
make  the  relation  between  the  human  mind  and  its  objects  the  type 
and  image  of  that  between  the  universe  and  its  first  principle.     And 
such  attempts  have  actually  been  made,  both  on  the  side  of  Mate- 
rialism and  on  that  of  Idealism ;  and  probably  would  be  made  ofbener, 
did  not  counteracting  influences  frequently  hinder  the  logical  develop- 
ment of  speculative  principles. 

In  modern  times,  and  under  Christian  influences,  these  several 
systems  are  almost  necessarily  identified  with  inquiries  concerning 
the  existence  and  nature  of  God.  The  influence  of  Christianity  has 
been  indirectly  felt,  even  in  speculations  prosecuted  in  apparent  inde- 
pendence of  it ;  and  the  admission  of  an  absolute  first  principle  of  all 
things  distinct  from  God,  or  the  acknowledgment  of  a  God  separate 

VOL.    I.  D 


4 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


fram  or  deiived  from  the  firat  principle  of  all  thinps.  is  an  absiuility 
whicli,  since  the  prevalence  of  Cliristianit)',  has  bi^ctnue  almost  iin- 
jjossible,  even  to  antii'liristitin  systems  "f  thouyht.  In  earlier  times, 
indeed,  this  miion  of  jiliilosojihy  ivith  theology  was  by  no  means  ay 
imperative.  A  pliiJus^phy  like  that  of  Gi^ece,  wbicli  inl]eriteil  its 
speciilfltioiis  from  a  poetiual  tbeognny,  would  see  no  dilfiuulty  in  attri- 
buting t-o  the  gfid  or  gods  of  its  reliijidiis  belief  a  secondary  and  derivett 
existence,  dependent  un  some  higher  and  more  original  principle,  and 
in  sepaniciiig  that  princijde  itself  from  all  immediate  connection  with 
reli^'ion.  It  was  possible  tn  assume,  \rifh  the  Ionian,  a  mnterial 
substance,  or,  inlh  the  Elcjitic,  an  indifferent  abstraction,  as  the  first 
principle  of  things,  ivithtuit  holding,'  tliat  principle  to  be  (iod,  or,  us 
the  only  alternative,  denying  the  existence  of  a  God ;  and  thus,  as 
Aristotle  has  ubserved,  theuloifians  endeavoured  to  evade  the  cunse- 
quenees  of  their  abatnict  jiriuciples,  by  attributing  to  the  chief  good  a 
later  and  derived  esisten[.'e,  aa  the  ]»oeta  supposed  the  supreme  GoJ  to 
be  of  younger  biith  than  night  and  chaos  and  sea  and  sky.*  But  to 
a  Christian  pliihwrphy,  r>r  to  a  pliilosophy  in  any  way  inHtienced  by 
Christianity^  this  method  of  evasion  is  no  longer  possible.  If  nit  con- 
ditioned existence  is  dependent  on  some  one  hrst  Lind  unconditioned 
priucijile,  either  that  principle  must  be  identihed  with  God,  or  our 
pbdosophical  speculations  must  full  into  c-iieu  and  avowed  atheism. 

But  at  this  point  the  pliilosophical  inqinvy  comjes  in  contact  with 
another  line  of  thiaiglit,  suggested  by  h  ditferent  cliiss  of  the  facts  of 
consciousness.  As  a  reliij;ious  and  moral  being,  niaji  is  conscious  of  a 
relation  of  a  personal  character,  distinct  from  any  sn^ested  by  the 
phenomena  of  the  material  world, — a  relation  to  a  sttpteme  Personid 
Being,  the  object  of  his  i-eligioos  worship,  and  the  source  and  judge  of 
his  moral  obligations  and  tjorKhict..  To  adopt  the  name  of  God  in  an 
abatract  speculation  merely  as  a  conventional  denomiinition  for  the 
highest  link  in  the  chain  of  thought,  and  ti>  believe  in  Him  for  the 
practical  purposes  of  woTsliip  and  obedience,  are  two  very  different 
things ;  and  for  tlie  latlrcr,  though  not  for  the  f<.iniier,  the  conception 
of  God  as  a  Person  is  indispensable.  Were  man  a  being  of  pure 
intellect,  the  problem  of  the  Unconditiiined  would  be  divested  of 
its  chief  diflieulty ;  but  he  ia  also  a  beinf;  of  religions  and  moral 
facidtiea,  and  these  also  have  a  claim  to  be  satisfied  by  any  valid 
solution  of  the  jirohlem.  Hence  the  question  assumes  another  and 
a  more  complex  form,  llow  is  the  one  absolute  existence,  to 
■which  philoanpliy  aspires,  to  be  identified  with  the  personal  God 
demanded  by  our  religious  feelings  ? 

Shall  we  lioldly  nssunie  that  the  pi-oMem  is  already  solvetl,  and 
that  the  persona!  Uod  is  the  very  Unconditioned  of  which  we  were  in 

>  Ue^apli.,  xiv.  4.  • 


The  Philosophy  of  the  Conditioned.  35 

search  ?  This  is  to  beg  the  question,  not  to  answer  it  Our  concep- 
tion of  a  personal  being,  derived  as  it  is  from  the  immediate  con- 
sciousness of  our  own  personality,  seems,  on  examination,  to  involve 
conditions  incompatible  with  the  desired  assumption.  Personal 
i^ncy,  similar  to  our  own,  seems  to  point  to  something  very  different 
from  an  absolutely  first  link  in  a  chain  of  phenomena.  Our  actions, 
if  not  determined,  are  at  least  influenced  by  motives  ;  and  the  motive 
is  a  prior  link  in  the  chain,  and  a  condition  of  the  action.  Our 
actions,  moreover,  take  place  in  time ;  and  time,  as  we  conceive  it, 
cannot  be  regarded  as  an  absolute  blank,  but  as  a  condition  in  which 
phenomena  take  place  as  past,  present,  and  future.  Kvery  act  taking 
place  in  time  implies  something  antecedent  to  itself;  and  this  some- 
thing, be  it  what  it  may,  hinders  us  from  regarding  the  subsequent 
act  as  absolute  and  unconditioned.  Nay,  even  time  itself,  apart  from 
the  phenomena  which  it  implies,  has  the  same  character.  If  an  act 
cannot  take  place  except  in  time,  time  is  the  condition  of  its  taking 
place.  To  conceive  the  unconditioned,  as  the  first  link  in  a  chain  of 
conditioned  consequences,  it  seems  necessary  that  we  should  conceive 
something  out  of  time,  yet  followed  by  time ;  standing  at  the  begin- 
ning of  all  duration  and  succession,  having  no  antecedent,  but  followed 
by  a  series  of  consequents. 

Philosophical  theologians  have  been  conscious  of  this  difliculty, 
almost  from  the  "earliest  date  at  which  philosophy  and  Christian 
theology  came  in  contact  with  each  other.  From  a  number  of  testi- 
monies of  similar  import,  we  select  one  or  two  of  the  most  striking. 
Of  the  Divine  Nature,  Gregory  Nyssen  says :  "  It  is  neither  in  place 
nor  in  time,  but  before  these  and  above  these  in  an  unspeakable 
manner,  contemplated  itself  by  itself,  through  faith  alone;  neither 
measured  by  ages,  nor  moving  along  laith  times."*  "  In  the  changes 
of  things,"  says  Augustine,  "  you  wiU  find  a  past  and  a  future ;  in 
God  you  will  find  a  present  where  past  and  future  cannot  be."*(" 
"Eternity,"  says  Aquinas,  "has  no  succession,  hut  exists  all  together."  J 
Among  divines  of  the  Church  of  England,  we  quote  two  names  only, 
but  those  of  the  highest : — "  The  duration  of  eternity,"  says  Bishop 
Pearson,  "  is  completely  indivisible  and  all  at  once  ;  so  that  it  is  ever 
present,  and  excludes  the  other  differences  of  time,  past  and  future."  § 
And  Barrow  enumerates  among  natural  modes  of  being  and  operation, 
far  above  our  reach,  "  God's  eternity  without  succession,"  coupling  it 
with  "  His  prescience  without  necessitation  of  events."  Ij  But  it  is 
needless  to  multiply  authorities  for  a  doctrine  so  familiar  to  every 
student  of  theology. 

•  C.  Eimom.,  \.,  p.  M,  Ed.  Gretaer.  f  In  Joann.  Evang.,  tract.  xxzTii.  10. 

{  Bumma,  pan  i.,  qn.  x.,  art.  I.  ^  Minor  Theol.  Works,  vol.  i.,  p.  10a. 

\  Sermon  on  the  Unsearchablenefla  of  Qod's  Judgments. 


36  The  Contemporary  Review. 

Thus,  tlipn,  OUT  tTi'o  Hues  of  thought  have  led  us  to  conclusintis 
whicii,  at  first  sight,  ajipear  tf>  he  contradictory  nf  each  other.  To  he 
conceived  as  imeoiKlitiimed,  God  must  he  conceived  as  exempt  frnm 
action  in  time :  to  he  cfnicciveil  ag  a  person,  if  His  personality 
resembles  ours,  He  must  he  conceived  aa  acting  in  time.  Can  these 
two  conclusimis  be  reconcilud  with  each  other;  and  if  not,  -wMch  nf 
them  is  to  be  almiidoiied  ?  Ttie  true  -.iiiawer  to  this  question  is,  we 
believti,  to  Ije  found  in  a  distinction  "which  some  recent  critic-s  regartl 
with  very  little  favour, — the  distinction  between  Reason  and  Faith; 
between  the  jjower  of  s-cncchinQ  iiml  that  of  hclieoin^/.  AVe  cannot^,  in 
our  present  state  nf  knowledge,  reconcde  these  two  conclusions;  yet 
■we  are  not  required  to  aliflnclon  either.  We  cannot  conceive  the 
manner  In  which  the  unconditioned  and  tlie  pereonal  are  united  iu 
the  I'ivLue  Nature;  yet  we  may  believe  that,  in  some  mnmier  uii- 
liiiown  to  ua,  they  are  so  uuit-ed.  To  conceive  the  union  of  two 
attributes  in  one  oliject  of  thoiiy;ht,  I  must  be  able  to  conceive  them 
ds  united  in  some  particular  manner:  when  this  canunt  be  done,  I 
may  nevetthekgs  believe  that  the  nnioti  is  possible,  though  I  am 
unable  to  conceive  hoiv  it  i.?  possible.  The  problem  is  thus  repre- 
sented as  one  of  those  Divine  mysteries,  the  character  of  which  is 
clearly  and  well  described  in  the  language  »f  Leibnitz :—"  11  en  est 
dem.Pme  des  autres  myst^res,  oi  les  osprits  modi^rds  trouveront  toujours 
une  explication  fsufRgaute  potir  cmiie,  et  jamais  autant  qn'il  en  faut 
pour  comprendte.  11  nous  sufKt  d'un  certain  ct  que  c'est  (tI  tari)  mais 
le  eomvu'fft  firfi'f)  nons  passe,  et  ne  nous  est  point  nt^cessaire."* 

But  this  di-stinction  involves  a  further  consequence.    If  the  mysteries 


■  "rhAjdice-e,  DiscouTs  de  la.  ConformW  de  Ift  Foi  avec  la  Raisor,"' ^  5S.  Lpibnil^,  it 
trill  be  ■ob»«?j-viHl,  uhcs  the  eipraviiaii  pmir  rmiprendre,  fofwhith,  ih  tlio  precediag  Temarks, 
fre  liBTe'  enbstituted  to  eenetit'e.  The  chojige  hu  lieen  meulc  LntetitioimlI;ri  on  accoimt  of 
an  amhigtiiiy  in  the  fnrnier  vav^.  Pumclimes  it  ia  used,  as  LL-ibniU  Loro  usee  it,  to  denotu 
911  npprelienfiiou  of  the  nnHnncr  in  whicli  ccrUiiu  ottriljutcs  mm  cwxiat  in  an  objwt.  Bttt 
Bometimea  (to  say  nothing  of  other  s<mses)  itia  luod  to  ugnif)'  n,  compete  knowltilgc  uf  an 
abject  in  all  ita  pnjperties  uid  thitix  ronacqucntf^H,  sui:b  as  it  may  bo  i]^ui»tioii<;d  wb^lher 
sFo  haye  of  aiij  object  whatever.  This  wabiguity,  which  has  hetn  tho  Bourpc  of  much 
confuai&n  and  much  cftp^tioua  criticiflm,  is  wdll  pointed  otit  by  Nonis  in  his  "Eeoaoii  anil 
Faitl"  {written  in  reply  ta  Toland),  p,  113,  Ed.  1687  :  "  When  ws  sqj- that  tilmt  rpn^on  ia 
when  wo  do  not  coniprt'Ucnd  or  perceive  tho  truth  of  n  Uung,  tliia  muBt  not  b«  meuit  of 
nut  C'omprehGudlng^  the  tl^tb  in  its  whoblititudG  end  e^itemt,  £u  that  as  nianj  truths  Hhoulii 
be  aaid  ia  bo  above  reanon  na  we  rnnnot  thus  thoroughly  compruhcnd  anil  purauo  throngh-- 
ouCall  their  CO nsequfnc-es  and  relalions  to  other  trutha  (for  then  nlmost,  everything  ■would  bo 
above  feason),  but  otdy  of  not  eompfclieiiding  tho  tmion  or  connei'tion  of  those  immedinle 
idtM  of  whith  the  propMition  «iippo6fd  to  be  above  reason.  cumsi.'iU."'  Cmnprihtimmt,  tfi 
thus  oxpliuBed,  answera  exactly  to  ihc  ordinan,'  logical  «bc  of  the  term  fonrrp/inu,  io  dcnoto 
thf!  gpnibination  of  two  or  more  »ttribiit«e  in  an  unity  gfrepreseatat  ion.  In  thessnie  atnsi", 
M.Peisse,  in  theprcfanG  to  hia  ■tmnsln.tion  of  Hnmilton's  " Fmgments,"  p.  HB,  says,— "Com- 
prenilrc,  c'pst  voir  im  tfimieon  mpport  avcc  uu  autre  ;  c'listToirconiinc  nn  ce  i^ui  est  Jonn^ 
r«mine  multiple."  This  is  exactly  the  ionae  in  nrhich  lliuailtoa  hlmMlf  Uiea  the  word 
eeactpficitt.    (See  RoLd'a  Workft,  p.  3(7.) 


The  Philosophy  of  tJie  Conditioned.  3  7 

of  the  Di\Tiie  Nature  are  not  apprehended  by  reason  as  existing  in  a 
particular  manner  (in  which  case  they  would  be  mysteries  no  longer), 
but  arc  accepted  by  faith  as  existing  in  some  manner  unknown  to  us, 
it  follows  that  we  do  not  know  God  as  He  is  in  His  absolute  nature,  but 
only  as  He  is  imperfectly  represented  by  those  qualities  in  His  crea- 
tures which  are  analogous  to,  but  not  identical  with,  His  own.  If,  for 
example,  we  had  a  knowledge  of  the  Divine  Personality  as  it  is  in 
itself,  we  should  know  it  as  existing  in  a  certain  manner  compatible 
with  unconditioned  action ;  and  tliis  knowledge  of  the  manner  would 
at  once  transform  our  conviction  from  an  act  of  faith  to  a  conception 
of  reason.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  ordy  personality  of  which  we 
liave  a  positive  knowledge  is  our  own,  and  if  our  own  personality  can 
only  be  conceived  as  conditioned  in  time,  it  follows  tliat  the  Divine 
Personality,  in  so  far  as  it  is  exempt  from  conditions,  does  not 
resemble  the  only  personality  which  we  directly  know,  and  is  not 
adequately  represented  by  it.  Tliis  necessitates  a  confession,  which, 
like  the  distinction  which  gives  rise  to  it,  has  been  vehemently  con- 
demned by  modern  critics,  but  which  has  been  concurred  in  with 
singular  unanimity  by  earlier  divines  of  various  ages  and  countries, — 
the  confession  that  the  knowledge  which  man  in  this  life  can  have  of 
God  is  not  a  knowledge  of  the  Divine  Nature  as  it  is  in  itself,  but 
only  of  that  nature  as  imperfectly  represented  through  analogous 
qualities  in  the  creature.  "Were  it  not  that  this  doctrine  has  been 
frequently  denounced  of  late  as  an  heretical  novelty,  we  should  hardly 
lia^-e  thought  it  necessary  to  cite  authorities  in  proof  of  its  antiquity 
and  catholicity.  As  it  is,  we  will  venture  to  produce  a  few  only  out 
of  many,  selecting  not  always  the  most  important,  but  those  wliich 
can  be  best  exhibited  rerhatim  in  a  short  extract. 

Chrtsostom. — "De  Incompr.  Dei  Natura,"  Horn,  i  3:  "Tluit  God  is 
everywhere,  I  kiiow ;  and  thai  He  ia  wholly  everywhere,  I  know ;  but  the 
how,  I  know  not  :  tluit  He  is  without  beginning,  ungenerated  and  eternal, 
I  know  ;  but  the  how,  I  know  not," 

Basil. — Ep.  ccxxxiv, :  "Tliat  God  is,  I  know  ;  but  what  is  His  essence 
1  hold  to  be  above  reason.  How  then  am  I  saved  %  By  faith  ;  and  faith  is 
competent  to  know  that  God  ia,  not  what  He  is." 

Cyril  of  Jerusalem. — Catech.  vl  2  :  "We  declare  not  what  God  is, 
but  candidly  confess  that  we  know  not  accurately  concerning  Him.  For 
in  those  things  which  concern  God,  it  is  great  knowledge  to  confess  our 
ignorance." 

Augustine. — Enarr.  in  Fsalm.  Ixxxv.  8  :  "  God  is  ineffable  ;  we  more 
easily  say  what  He  is  not  tiian  what  He  ia."  Scrm.  cccxlL  :  "I  call  God 
just,  bef^use  in  human  words  I  find  nothing  bettor ;  for  He  is  beyond 
justice.  .  .  .  "Wliat  then  ia  worthily  said  of  God  1  Some  one,  perhaps, 
may  reply  and  say,  that  He  Ujust  But  another,  with  better  understanding, 
may  say  that  even  this  wonl  is  surpassed  by  His  excellence,  and  that  even 
this  is  said  of  Hira  unworthdy,  though  it  be  said  fittingly  according  to 
human  capacity." 


38 


Th^  Contemporary  Review, 


C'yRiL  OF  Aleiakdbia. — "In  Joonn.  Evung,,"  I.  u.,  c  5 ;  "For  lliose 
tliijiga  wliicL  art!  spokvn  concercing  it  [the  Divine  Kature]  elto  not  spoken 
as  llipy  ai-u  in  very  tnith,  but  na  th«  tongue  of  man  can  iiitcqirut,  and  as 
man  tuiii  lieiir  ;  for  lip  who  Bees  in  an  euiguut  also  speaks  in  an  i?nigina." 

lUMAacENUB.^ — "Ue  Fide  OrLlnKl,"  i  4:  "  Tluit  trod.  ie^  is  raantlfeat ;  but 
'^liat  Hi:  is  hi  IIiM  ossbuco  and  nature  ia  utterly  iiicom|)relieusible  and. 
unknown." 

AquiNAs. — "SuniHiB,"  para  i.,  qu,  siii.,  art.  1  ;  "Wo  pajinot  bo  name  Gffd 
that  the  name  which  denote;!  Ilim  ehall  express  the  Divine  Eaeence  hs  it  is, 
in  the  Bamo  Trfty  a,H  tlio  name  man.  expresses  in  its  Bigiiilicfltioii  tha  efisen^-e 
of  man  as  it  is."  Ihkh.,  art.  5  ;  "  Wheji  the  name  idM'  ia  said  d  a  man,  it 
in  ft  milliner  deacrthea  end  comprebcnJs  Elie  tbiiig  signiii-ed  :  not  so,  how- 
over,  wliim  it  IS  said  of  (iod  ;  htit  it  leaves  the  tiling  sigiiiticd  as  uucDmpre- 
hendcdanii  excoipding  tlio  signification  of  tho  name.  \Vlienco  it  ia  evident  lliat 
this  name  wiV  ia  not  fiaid  in  the  same  manner  of  Llod  aiul  of  mnn.  Tlie  same 
ia  the  Ciise  with  other  names  ;  whenne  no  name  tan  lio  pi'edicfltcd  univorasUy 
of  God  nnd  of  creatures;  yet  they  atu  not  predk-attfii  nierf.Oy  et^iii vocally. 
.  .  .  "VVe  must  snij,  then,  that  each  bamcs  arts  said  of  Ood  and  of  crea- 
tures accordiiiR  to  aonlogy,  that  is,  projiortion." 

nwjKER.^'"  lice.  ToL,"  I.,  ii.  2. — "  Dangerous  it  wt'rc  for  the  feeble  hrain 
of  man  to  wade  fet  into  thn  doings  of  the  Moat  High  ;  whom  although  to 
know  l)e  life,  anil  joy  to  make  luwntion  of  Hia  nauic-,  yet  our  soundf^at  know- 
ledge is  to  know  that  we  know  Hiui  not  as  indtied  He  is,  muithei-  can  know 
Hiw." 

"UsHElL— "Body  of  Divinity,"  fi-  *5,  Ed,  1645  ;  "N'either  is  it  [the 
visdom  of  God]  tonimuiiicHted  to  any  creJtturo,  neither  tun  he ;  for  it  ia 
uncouceivubk,  aa  tl.w  very  essencu  of  t>od  Himself  is  nnconteivahle,  «nil 
uiispeakahlis  aa  it  ia," 

Leiohton.— TheoL  Ltict  XXI.,  "Worka,  voL  iv.,  p.  327,  Ed.  1830 :  "Though 
in  the  si-'hools  they  diatinguiyh  the  Divine  attrihutt's  or  exLclk'nces,  and 
that  hy  no  means  iiupro]>c:riy,  into  cominnuieable  and  ineoiumunicalilo  ;  jtst 
wo  ought  ao  to  guard  this  distinction,  aa  always  to  remember  that  those 
which  lire  cjillod  communicable,  when  apjhlied  to  Gi>d,  are  not  only  to  be 
unJerstotid  in  a  manner  in«omniunicable  and  quite  peculiar  to  Himself^  but 
aleoj  that  in  Him  they  ai-e  in  reality  infinitely  diifereut  [in  the  original, 
iilind  omiihin^  iiiuifnuurn  {i}iilcT\  from  those  vii'tues,  or  rather,  in  a  matter 
where  the  disparity  of  the  suhjects  ia  bo  very  great,  thoae  shadows  of  virtues 
that  go  imiier  the  anino  name,  cithi;r  in  mon  or  angeU." 

pEARSos.— Minor  TheuL  Works,  vol.  i.,  p.  I3  :  "  God  in  Himself  is  an 
fthsc«ltitc  Iwing,  without  any  r<-Iation  to  erentnres,  for  He  wiw  from  eternity 
without  any  ereatnrti,  and  raidd,  had  Ho  willed,  W  to  eternity  without  crea- 
ture, lint  LJod  eanliot  naturally  be  known  liy  u9  otherwise  than  by  tolation 
'to  creaf  ures,  as,  for  examjjle,  uudi^r  the  aspect  of  dominion,  or  of  cause,  or  in 
Bonie  other  relation."* 

LRVEniDOE. — "Oil  the  Tliiily-iiini.'- Articles,"  p.  Ifl,  FaL  lS4fi  :  "Cutsinnng 
the  jirojiertiea  of  God  d(i  not  so  much  denote  what  God  is,  as  what  wn 
appPehBnd  Him  to  be  in  Himself;  when  this  ppoptrtiea  of  Godai'e  predicated 
one  of  another,  one  thiny  iu  Gni.l  is  not  pradieiittd  yf  tinother,  hut  our  a]i- 
pWihensions  of  the  snine  thing  aru  prtdicatfd  one  of  another," 

•  Bishop  rcaraoffl's  loiigTiaffe  is  yet  moi*  explicit  Jo  unother  pUMge  of  the  sainft  *rork, 
wluch  Me  ^va  in  Iho  ongiiinl  Laliu:^"Noii  daatar  fro  hoe  etntu  nottiiim  quns  Deun 
eiguiQvaut  (jiiidditalive.  Tatet;  qui&  ni>mins  aunt  caiLueptuum.  Koa  LUt^iti  duilur  . 
Ii«;  stittu  cvDce^tuB  (|uidditativi  de  Deo." — (P.  196.) 


* 


The  Philosophy  of  tJie  Conditioned.  39 

Leslie.— "  Method  with  the  Deists,"  p.  63,  Ed.  1745  :  "  ■\\'hat  we  call 
faculties  in  the  soul,  we  call  Persons  in  the  Godhead  ;  because  there  are  per- 
sonal actions  attributed  to  each  of  them.  .  .  .  And  we  have  no  other 
word  whereby  to  express  it ;  we  speak  it  after  the  manner  of  men  ;  nor  could 
we  understand  if  we  heard  any  of  those  unspeakable  words  which  express 
the  Divine  ^Nature  in  its  proper  essence  ;  therefore  we  must  make  allowances, 
and  great  ones,  when  we  apply  words  of  our  nature  to  the  Iniinite  and 
Eternal  Being."  Ibid.,  p.  64 :  "  By  the  word  Person,  when  applied  to  God 
(for  want  of  a  proper  word  whereby  to  express  it),  we  must  mean  something 
infinitely  different  from  personality  among  men" 

The  system  of  theology  represented  by  these  extracts  may,  we 
believe,  be  fairly  summed  up  as  foUowa ; — ^We  believe  that  God  in 
Hia  own  nature  is  absolute  and  unconditioned ;  but  we  can  only 
positively  conceive  Him  by  means  of  relations  and  conditions  sug- 
gested by  created  things.  We  believe  that  His  own  nature  is  simple 
and  uniform,  admitting  of  no  distinction  between  various  attributes, 
nor  between  any  attribute  and  its  subject ;  but  we  can  conceive  Him 
only  by  means  of  various  attributes,  distinct  from  the  subject  and 
from  each  other.*  We  believe  that  in  His  own  nature  He  is  exempt 
from  all  relations  of  time ;  but  we  can  conceive  Him  only  by  means 
of  ideas  and  terms  which  imply  temporal  relations,  a  past,  a  present, 
and  a  future.-f-  Our  thought,  then,  must  not  be  taken  as  the  measure 
and  limit  of  oiu*  belief :  we  think  by  means  of  relations  and  conditions 
derived  from  created  things;  we  believe  in  an  Absolute  Being,  in 
whose  nature  these  conditions  and  relations,  in  some  manner  unknown 
to  us,  disappear  in  a  simple  and  indivisible  unity. 

The  most  important  feature  of  this  philosophical  theology,  and 
the  one  "which  exhibits  most  clearly  the  practical  difference  between 
reason  and  faith,  is  that,  in  dealing  with  theoretical  difficulties,  it  does 
not  appeal  to  our  knowledge,  but  to  our  ignorance :  it  does  not  pro- 
fess to  oflFer  a  definite  solution ;  it  only  tells  us  tiiat  we  might  find  one 
if  we  knew  alL  It  does  not  profess,  for  example,  to  solve  the  apparent 
contradiction  between  God's  foreknowledge  and  man's  free  will ;  it 
does  not  say,  "  This  is  the  way  in  which  God  foreknows,  and  in  this 

•  This  w31  be  fonnd  most  disdnctly  stated  in  the  context  of  the  extract  from  Beveridge, 
and  in  the  citations  from  St.  Augustine  given  in  his  notei ;  to  which  moy  be  added  the  fol- 
lowing from  "  De  Trinitate,"  vi.  7  : — "  Dcus  vero  multipliciter  quidcm  dicitur  maginus, 
bonns,  sapiens,  beatus,  Terns,  et  quidquid  oliud  non  indigne  dici  videtur ;  sed  eadem  magm- 
tado  ejus  est  quie  sapiontia,  non  enim  mole  magnus  est,  eed  virtute ;  et  eadcm  bonitas  qum 
Eapientia  ct  magnitudo,  et  eadem  Veritas  qum  ilia  omnia :  ct  non  est  ibi  aliud  beatum  esse  et 
aiiud  magnum,  aut  sapientem,  aut  verum,  aut  bonum  esse,  aut  omnino  ipaum  esse." 

t  Compare  the  remarkable  vrorde  of  Bishop  Bevcridgc,  i.  c,  "  And  therefore,  though  I 
cannot  apprehend  Hia  mercy  to  Abel  in  the  beginning  of  the  world,  and  His  mercy  to  ma 
nov,  bat  as  two  distinct  eiprcsstona  of  His  mercy,  yet  as  they  aro  in  God,  they  are  but 
one  and  the  same  act, — as  thoy  are  in  God,  I  say,  who  is  not  measured  by  time,  as  our 
apprebenaions  of  Him  are,  but  ia  Himself  etfimity ;  a  centre  without  a  circumference, 
eternity  without  time." 


40 


The  Conicmporary  Review. 


way  His  foreknowledge  is  reconcileuble  with  human  freedom;"  it  only 
says,  "The  contntdiction  is  apparent,  but  need  not  be  real  Freedom  is 
incompatible  with  GtuVa  foreknowledge,  only  on  the  suppositinn  that 
(ifxl's  foreknowledge  is  like  man's:  if  we  knew  exactly  how  the  one 
(lifiers  from  the  other,  we  might  be  able  to  see  that  what  is  incom- 
patible with  the  fine  is  not  sn  with  the  other.  "^V^e  cannot  solve  the 
difficulty,  but  we  can  believe  that  there  ia  a  solution." 

It  ia  this  open  acknowledgment  of  our  ignorance  of  the  highest 
things  which  inakes  this  system  of  philosophy  distasteful  toi  many 
Tuinda :  it  m  the  absence  of  any  siuular  acknowledgment  which  fomis 
the  attraction  and  the  seductiveness  of  Pantheism  in  one  way^  and  of 
Positivism  in  anotlicr.  The  jiantlieist  i-9  not  troubled  with  the  dilli- 
culty  of  reconciling  the  philoaophy  of  tlie  absolute  witli  belief  in  a 
personal  God;  for  Mief  in  a  jiersonal  Gud  ia  no  part  of  his  creed. 
Like  the  Christian,  he  may  profess  to  acknowledge  a  iirst  principle, 
one,  and  simple,  and  indivisible,  and  unciomlitioned  ;  but  he  has  no 
need  to  give  to  this  principle  the  name  of  God,  or  to  invest  it  with 
such  attributes  as  are  necessary-  to  satisfy  man's  religions  wants.  His 
God  (so  far  as  he  iickuowledges  one  Ht  all)  is  not  the  first  principle 
and  caiwe  of  all  things,  but  the  a^reg«te  of  the  whole — &  univerafil 
substance  underlying  the  world  of  phenomena,  or  a  universal  process, 
carried  on  in  and  by  the  changes  of  things.  Hence,  as  Aristotle  said 
of  the  Eleatics,  that,  by  asserting  all  things  to  be  one,  they  anni- 
hilated causation,  which  is  the  production  rif  one  thing  from  another, 
ao  it  may  be  said  of  the  vanou?  schools  of  Pantheism,  that,  by  main- 
taining all  things  to  be  Grid,  thoy  evade  rather  than  solve  the  great 
problem  of  philosophy,  that  of  the  relation  between  God  and  His 
creaturoa.  The  positivist,  on  the  other  hand,  escapes  the  difficulty 
by  an  opposite  course.  He  declines  all  inqiur^'  into  reality  and 
causation,  and  maintains  that  the  oidy  oflictj  of  philosophy  is  t-o 
obsc'iTe  and  register  the  invariable  relations  of  auccesaion  and  simili- 
tude in  plienoniena.  He  does  not  necessarily  deny  the  existence  of 
God ;  but  his  personal  belief,  be  it  what  it  may,  ia  a  matter  of  utter 
indifference  to  his  system.  Religion  and  phUosophy  may  perhaps  go 
on  aide  by  side ;  but  their  provinces  are  wholly  distinct,  anil  there- 
fore there  is  no  need  to  atteiupt  a  reconciliation  between  them.  God, 
as  a  first  cause,  lives  like  an  E]iit;urean  deity  in  iindisturbed  ease, 
apart,  fj-oui  the  worid  of  phenomena,  of  whicli  alone  philosophy  can 
take  cognisance:  philosophy,  as  the  science  of  phenomena,  contents 
itself  with  obscr^dng  tlie  actual  state  of  things,  without  troubling 
itself  to  intjuire  how  that  state  of  things  came  into  eNistenee.  Hence, 
neither  Pantheism  nor  Positivism  is  troubled  to  explam  the  relation 
of  the  Oae  to  the  Many,  for  the  foi-mer  acknowledges  only  the  One, 
and  the  latter  acknowled^jfes  only  the  Many. 


The  Philosophy  of  the  Conditioned. 


41 


I 


It  ia  "between  these  two  systems,  both  seiluctive  i'rtim  tbcii-  apparent 
simplicity,  and  both  simple  only  by  rautilatiun,  that  the  Phtlttsophy 
of  tlie  Conditioned,  of  whicli  Sir  \Villiam  Hamilton  13  the  represejit- 
iitive,  endeavours  to  s-teer  a  middle  course,  at  the  risk  of  Bbariiig  the 
fate  of  most  mediators  in  a  quan-el,— being  repudiiited  and  denomiced 
l)y  bolli  conil-atant?,  l>ecause  it  declares  theiu  to  be  lioth  in  tlie  nTon;,'. 
Against  Pantheism,  which  is  the  natural  development  of  the  principle 
of  Indifferentisra.  it  enters  a  solemji  protest,  by  asaertinit;  that  tlie 
Absolute  must  be  accepted  in  pliilosophy,  not  as  a  problera  to  lie 
AOlved  by  reason,  bat  as  a  reality  Ui  be  buUeved  in,  though  above 
reason;  and  that  the  pseudo-absolute,  wbicli  Pantheism  professes  to 
exhibit  in  a  positive  conception,  is  shown,  by  the  very  fact  of  its 
l«inn;  so  conwivcd,  tiot  to  be  the  true  Absolute.  Against  Positivism, 
which  is  virtually  Materiidisni,  it  protests  do  less  strongly,  maintain- 
ing that  the  philosophy  T\-hich  professes  to  explain  the  whole  of 
narure  by  the  aid  of  material  laws  alone,  proceeds  upon  an  assump- 
tion which  docs  not  merely  dispense  with  God  as  a  scientific  b)'^o- 
thcsis^  but  !oj»ically  involvtjs  consequences  which  lead  to  a  denial  of 
His  very  existence.  Between  both  extremes  it  holds  au  intermediate 
posiUou,  neither  aspiring,  with  Fantlieisui,  to  solve  the  problems  of 
tlie  absolute,  nor  neglecting  them,  with  I'oaitiWsm,  as  altiigetlier 
lemotct  fiMjiu  the  held  of  phdosophical  inquiry ;  but  maintaining  that 
ETich  problems  must  necessarily  arise,  and  must  necessarily  be  taken 
into  account  in  every  adei|nate  sur\-ey  of  human  nature  and  human 
thotijjlit,  EUid  that  jdiilosopliy,  if  it  cannot  solve  tlieni,  ia  bound  to 
Ehow  why  they  are  insoluble. 

Let  lis  heJiT  Hamilt^in's  own  words  in  relation  to  both  the  eysteuia 
■ffhich  he  opposes.  Against  Pantheism,  and  the  Fliilasophy  of  the 
Uncunditiunuil  in  general,  he  says ; — 

"The  ComUlioned  is  the  mean  between  two  exlreiaea,^ — two  incondi- 
tiooates,  pxclueivo  of  each  other,  ni'if/ier  of  which  r.im  he  comeived  as  /kw- 
n'Wr,*  but  of  which,  on  the  priiitiplea  of  contrndiction  and  excluded  niiddlu, 
mwt  If  ailmitl'ni  ivn  tipeesaarij.  On  thia  opinion,  therefure,  our  fatuities 
shown  to  1j«  weakf  but  not  deceitful  Thi;  mind  ia  not  reprpsentud  ns 
ciMi(*i.viiig  twn  jiropuaitions,  aubveraive  of  each  other,  as  efpially  poasiblu  ; 
Imt  (tuly  Ji3  unable  to  muIiTstfind  aa  jKiusihle  either  of  tlic  two  estpemcH  ; 
onr  iif  whirli,  however,  on  the  grnndd  nt'  tbi^ir  mutual  repugnaiico,  it  ia 
rompollfd  tfj  ri'cognise  as  true.  Wc  tirp  thus  taiiglit  the  aalutory  leasou, 
tluil  tlvf>  rapacity  of  thought  ia  not  to  be  constituted  iuto  tho  measure  of 
nistcuce ;  and  are  wamei!  from  recognising  tb-B  domain  of  our  bnowlledge 
at  neceasaniy  co-extensive  with  tho  horizon  of  our  feitli.     And  by  a  won- 

•  11  must  T>e  nTnttnbered  tlmt,  to  conceive  a  tting;  as  poaailjlo,  we  miist  conrMvy  thn 
BUuiDr  LD  vrliii-h  it  a  poMiblii,  Ijiit  tliat  wc  mny  faiilleve  in  tlie  fnct  without  bi^iii^ 
tble  to  caa^TB  tlic  biacnizr.  nod  n.nmilton  dintinctiy  exprf^Kd  ihb,  Lt;  luiglil  have 
■nided  eocQA  rcry  graundlcss  «riti(-ianu,  with  Rhicli  he  has  tM«ii  asoiuled  lor  inaia- 
Uiiuog  a  distinction  between  tliF  prorinccii  of  (.'ORCpptios  and  belief. 


A 


42 


Tlu  ConUmporaty  Review. 


derfuL  rcTelalion,  we  are  tbue,  in  the  voiy  conscioasneBs  of  our  iualjility  to 
conceiTe  aught  a.bove  the  relativo  and  tiiiitc,  iaspirod  with  a  beli«f  in  Ihe 
Bxistence  of  something  un[:uuditinnod  Iwyund  the  sphere  of  aU  comprehen- 
8ibl«  reality." — -Digciu^nctm,  p.  15. 

Against  Materialism,  and  virtually  against  Positivism  in  general, 
he  says : — 

"  if  ia  man,  intpUigence  be  a  free  power, — m  so  far  aa  its  liberty  extends, 
Lutclligenco  mqgt  bf.  independent  of  necessity  and  matter  ;  and  a  power 
indwpendent  of  matter  uec&ssarily  impli«ii  tho  existence  yf  an  immaterial 
subjeL't — that  i?,  a  spirit.  If,  then,  tho  origmal  indv^pendcnce  of  intelUgenc*) 
on  matter  in  the  human  cunstitution — in  other  words,  if  the  spirituality  of 
mind  in  man.  bo  supposed  a  datum  of  obaervation,  in  this  datum  is  also 
giren  both  the  condition  and  the  proof  of  a  God,  For  we  hare  only  to 
infer,  what  analogy  entitles  iia  to  do,  tliat  iutelligencu  holds  the  same 
rdative  nuprcmacy  in.  tho  univerao  which  it  holds  in  na,  and  the  first 
positive  coiidLtion  of  a  Deity  is  cjttalihahod,  in  the  ustabLisliinent  of  the 
absolute  priority  of  a  free  creative  iuttUigcnut  On  the  oihtiT  hand,  let  ub 
suppoBQ  thii  result  of  out  study  of  man  to  be,  that  iut*lligenco  is  only  a 
product  of  matter,  only  a  w flex  of  organisation,  such  a  doctrine  would  not 
only  atlbrd  uo  basia  on  which  to  rest  any  argument  for  a  God,  but,  oo  the 
contrary,  would  positively  warrant  the  athbjst  in  denying  Hia  existence. 
For  ii',  as  the  materialist  inaintwiuB,  the  ordy  intelligence  of  ^uhich  we  ha.v6 
any  experience  bp  a  conaequent  of  matter, — on  this  hypothesis,  he  not  oidj 
cannot  aaanme  this  order  to  bo  rEveraad  in  the  relations  of  an  intelligence 
be-ynnd  his  ohaervation,  hut,  if  lie  arguo  logically,  he  must  positively  con- 
clude that,  03  in.  man^  so  In  the  univerac,  the  phenomena  of  intelligence  or 
desiga  aiti  only  in  tllcir  last  analysis  the  ]irodueta  of  a  brute  ntcessity. 
Pfiychological  Materialism,  if  carried  out  fully  and  fairly  to  its  coiirlusions, 
thua  inevitably  results  in  theological  Atheism  ;  as  it  has  been  well 
expreas-cd  by  Dr.  Henry  More,  NttHu^  in  tnifi'oatsmi)  spirHiiHf  n't/liis  in 
nt(H^rocos»io  D'^its.  I  do  not,  of  course,  mean  to  assert  that  all  malcriftliats 
deny  or  actually  disbelieve  a  I  'i»d.  For  in  very  manj'"  cases,  this  Would  Iw  at 
oaco  an  unmerited  complitnent  to  their  reasoning,  and  an  nnnierited  reproach 
to  their  faith." — Lectures,  vol.  i.,  p.  31,* 

"  Thi»  part  of  Hamilton'a  l«acbiiig  ii  altogeCli<?r  repudiated  by  a  recent  writer,  who, 
(Iningelj-  enoi;igli,'profeBBCH  to  ho  tis  diBciple,  -wtilo  rejecting  n]]  that  i»  renUy  charncter- 
isCic  of  Ill's  pliiloiophy.  Jlr.  Hcrliert  SpcDccr,  iu  hia  work  on.  "  First  PiinciplM," 
endenvDura  lo  pKsa  Sir  "ff.  Ilnrailten  into  tho  Berrice  of  Pfintlieism  and  Poa-itivisni  la^ethor, 
by  adopting  the  nDgative  porliou  only  of  bia  philosopty—  in  wliieh,  in  commoa  with  uiaiLy 
otber  BTilpra,  he  ^declaroB-  the  ftbeolute  [o  te  iuwrnceiTalile  liy  tho  iulto  intellect, — and 
rcjerling  thu  posilivo  portiona,  in  whith  ho  miiat  emphatically  mnintiing  thftt  -tho 
belief  in'o  personu]  God  is  impRraliively  liematideJ  hy  tliu  facta  of -our  moral  and  emotidbftl 
tOd.BcJoiisti'eBS.  Mr.  Sptni'cr  regarda  religioii  aa  nnthiug  niOtb  than  fl.  consfJOTlsneia  of 
natural  facts  na  being  b  their  ultimate  genesis  imaproun table — a  theory  which  is  aiinplj  & 
cumbinntion  of  the  poeiliviat  J(K>triae,  that  wq  know  only  the  ruktiuiu  of  phememenvi, 
with  tie  pnnlheijil  assuaiption  of  the  nnnic  of  G-od  to  denoic  the  ^iibBliineo  or  power  which 
lips  beyowd  phenomtina.  No  Ihfory  can  bo  more  oppos-sd  to  the  jihiloaophy  cf  the  con- 
ditioned thEin  this.  Sir  W.  Uaniilton'B  fimdamental  priotiple  is,  thnt  cnnaciouBntsS  mtiit 
bo  acri^t'^^d  cntiro,  nnd  thatt  the  inoroJ  ond  rdigiou*  feelings,  whii^h  nTe  tha  primary  source 
of  our  belief  in  a  ijersoBa!  God,  are  in  no  way  invalidated  by  the  merely  negative  in fereneea 
which  have  deluded  men  into  the  oa&iunpdun  of  an  impersonal  absolute ;  iho  latter  not 
bein^  IcgilimBte  duductioua  frou  coaaciouBQcea  tightly  interpreted.     Mr.  Spciacer,  on  the 


The  Philosophy  of  the  Conditioned.  43 

la  the  few  places  in  which  Hamilton  speaks  directly  as  a  theolo- 
gian, his  language  is  in  agreement  with  the  general  voice  of  Catholic 
theology  down  to  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  centiuy,  some  specimens 
of  which  have  been  given  on  a  previous  page.  Thus  he  says 
("Discussions,"  p.  15) :  "  True,  therefore,  are  the  declarations  of  a  pious 
j>hilosophy, — '  A  God  understood  would  be  no  God  at  all ;'  '  To  think 
that  God  is,  aa  we  can  think  Him  to  be,  is  blasphemy.'  The  Divinity, 
ia  a  certain  sense,  is  revealed ;  in  a  certain  sense  is  concealed :  He 
is  at  once  known  and  unkuo\^'n.  But  the  last  and  highest  consecra- 
tion of  all  true  religion  must  be  an  altar  'Ayv(i(jj-(i>  0«(ji — '  To  (hi 
unkTimon  and  unhiowablc  God.' "  A  little  later  (p.  20)  he  says : 
"  We  should  not  recoil  to  the  opposite  extreme ;  and  though  man 
be  not  identical  with  the  Deity,  still  is  he  '  created  in  the  image  of 
God.'  It  is,  indeed,  only  through  an  analogy  of  the  human  with  the 
Divine  nature,  that  we  are  percipient  and  recipient  of  Divinity."  In 
the  first  of  these  passages  we  have  an  echo  of  the  language  of  Basil, 
the  two  Cyrils,  and  John  Damascene,  and  of  our  own  Hooker  and 
Usher ;  while  in  the  second  we  find  the  counter  truth,  intimated  by 
Augustine  and  other  Fathers,*  and  clearly  stated  by  Aquinas,  and 
which  in  the  last  century  was  elaborately  expounded  in  the  "  Divine 
Analogy  "  of  Bishop  Browne, — namely,  that  though  we  know  not  God 
in  His  own  nature,  yet  are  we  not  wholly  ignorant  of  Him,  but  may 
attain  to  an  imperfect  knowledge  of  Him  through  the  analogj- 
hetween  human  things  and  Divine. 

As  T^ards  theological  restdts,  therefore,  there  is  nothing  novel  or 
peculiar  in  Hamilton's  teaching;  nor  was  he  one  who  would  have 
r^arded  novelty  in  theology  as  a  recommendation.  The  peculiarity 
of  his  system,  by  which  his  reputation  as  a  pliilosopher  must  ulti- 
mately stand  or  fall,  is  the  manner  in  which  he  endeavoured  to  con- 


other  band,  takes  these  negative  inferences  as  the  onlj^  basis  of  religion,  and  abondona 
Huniltoa's  great  principle  of  the  distinction  between  knowledge  and  belief,  by  quietly 
droppiiig  oat  of  his  system  the  facts  of  consciousness  which  make  such  a  distinction  neces- 
arj.  His  whole  system  is,  in  iact,  a  pertinent  illustration  of  Hamilton's  remark,  that 
"the  pbenomeoa  of  matter"  [and  of  mind,  he  might  add,  treated  by  muteiialistic  methods] 
"taken  by  tbemselTes  (you  will  obserre  the  qualification,  taken  by  themselyes),  so  far 
&om  warranting  any  inference  to  the  existence  of  a  God,  would,  on  the  contrary,  ground 
eren  an  argument  to  His  negation."  Mr.  Spencer,  like  Mr.  Mill,  denies  the  freedom  of  tho 
*iU ;  and  this,  according  to  Hamilton,  lends  by  logical  consequence  to  Atheism. 

•  As  e.ff.,  byTertullian  {"Adv.  Marc,"  1.  ii.,  c.  16) :  "Ethane  ergo  imago  ceasenda  est 
Dei  in  homine,  quod  eoedem  motus  ct  sensus  habcat  humanus  animus  quos  et  Deus,  licet 
non  tales  quoles  Deus :  pro  substantia  cnim,  et  status  eorum  et  esitus  distant."  And 
by  Gregory  Nazianzen,  Orat.  ixxvii. :  Uvoiidaainv  yap  i>c  i)fiiv  i^ucrliv  U  riav  fituripuf 
tA  tou  Bioa.  And  by  Hilary,  "De  Trin.,"  i.  19:  "  Comparatio  enim  terrenorum  ad 
Deom  nulla  est ;  sed  infirmitaa  nostra)  intclligcntio)  cogit  species  qunsdam  ex  inferio- 
ribos,  tanquam  superionun  indices  quicrere ;  ut  rerum  familiarium  consuetudinc  admo- 
TCBle,  ex  aensus  nostri  conscientla  ad  insoliti  sensua  opioionem  educeremur," 


44  The  Contemporary  Review. 

nect  these  tIieol(;gical  conclusions  with  psychological  principles ;  and 
thus  to  vindicate  on  philosophical  grounds  the  position  which  Catholic 
divines  had  heen  compelled  to  take  in  the  interests  of  dogmatic  truth. 
That  the  absolute  nature  of  God,  as  a  supertemporal  and  yet  personal 
Being,  must  be  believed  in  as  a  fact,  though  inaccessible  to  reason  as 
regards  the  manner  of  its  possibility,  is  a  position  admitted,  almost 
without  exception,  by  di^-ines  who  acknowledge  the  mystery  of  a  per- 
sonal Absolute — still  more  by  those  who  acknowledge  the  yet  deeper 
mystery  of  a  Trinity  in  Unity.  "We  believe  and  know,"  says  Bishop 
)Sanderson  of  the  mysteries  of  the  Christian  faith,  "and  that  witli 
fulness  of  assurance,  that  all  these  things  are  so  as  they  are  revealed 
in  the  Holy  Scriptures,  because  the  mouth  of  God,  who  is  Truth  itself, 
and  cannot  lie,  hath  spoken  them ;  and  our  own  reason  upon  tliis 
ground  teacheth  us  to  submit  ourselves  and  it  to  iht,  obedience  of  faith, 
for  the  TO  oTi,  that  so  it  is.  But  then,  for  the  to  wwg,  Nicodemus  his 
question.  How  can  these  things  be?  it  is  no  more  possible  for  our 
weak  understandings  to  comprehend  that,  than  it  is  for  the  eyes  of 
bats  or  owls  to  look  steadfastly  upon  the  body  of  the  sun,  when  he 
shineth  forth  in  his  greatest  strength."  •  This  distinction  Hamilton 
endeavoured  to  extend  from  the  domain  of  Clu-istian  theology  to  that  of 
philosophical  speculation  in  general ;  to  show  that  the  unconditioned, 
as  it  is  suggested  in  philosophy,  no  less  than  as  it  connects  itself  with 
revealed  religion,  is  an  object  of  belief,  not  of  positive  conception; 
and,  consequently,  that  men  cannot  escape  from  mystery  by  rejecting 
revelation.  "  Above  all,"  he  says,  "  I  am  confirmed  in  my  belief  by 
the  hannony  between  the  doctrines  of  this  philosophy,  and  those  of 
revealed  truth.  .  .  ,  For  this  philosophy  is  professedly  a  scientific 
demonstration  of  the  impossibility  of  that  'wisdom  in  high  matters' 
which  the  Apostle  prohibits  us  even  to  attempt ;  and  it  proposes,  from 
the  limitation  of  the  human  powers,  from  our  impotence  to  compre- 
hend what,  however,  we  must  admit,  to  show  articulately  why  the 
'secret  things  of  God'  cannot  but  be  to  man  'past  finding  out.'"+ 
Faith  in  the  inconceivable  must  thus  become  the  ultimate  refuge,  even 
of  the  pantheist  and  the  atheist,  no  less  than  of  the  Christian ;  the 
difference  being,  that  while  the  last  takes  his  stand  on  a  faith  which 
is  in  agreement  alike  with  the  authority  of  Scripture  and  the  needs  of 
huiaan  nature,  the  two  former  are  driven  to  one  which  is  e{[uaUy 
ojiposcd  to  both,  as  well  as  to  the  pretensions  of  their  own  philosophy. 
Deny  the  Trinity;  deny  the  Pei-sonality  of  God:  there  yet  remains 
that  which  no  man  can  deny  as  the  law  of  his  own  consciousness — 
Time.  Conditioned  existence  is  existence  in  time ;  to  attain  to  a 
])hilosopliy  of  the  unconditioned,  we  must  rise  to  the  conception  of 
existence  out  of  time.  The  attempt  may  be  made  in  two  ways,  and 
•  Worku,  vol.  i.,  p.  233.  t  "  DiBcusmons,"  p.  625. 


The  Philosophy  of  the  Conditioned.  45 

in  two  only.  Either  we  may  endeavour  to  conceive  an  absolutely  fii-st 
moment  of  time,  beyond  which  is  au  existence  having  no  duration 
and  no  succession  ;  or  we  may  endeavour  to  conceive  time  as  an  un- 
limited duration,  containing  an  infinite  series  of  successive  antecedents 
and  consequents,  each  conditioned  in  itself,  but  forming  altogether  an 
unconditioned  whole.  In  other  words,  we  may  endeavour,  with  the 
Heatics,  to  conceive  pure  existence  apart  and  distinct  from  all  pheno- 
menal change  ;  or  we  may  endeavour,  with  Heraclitua,  to  conceive  the 
universe  as  a  system  of  incessant  changes,  immutable  only  in  the  law 
of  its  o'WTi  mutability  ;  for  these  two  systems  may  be  regarded  as  the 
type  of  all  subsequent  attempts.  Both,  however,  alike  aim  at  an 
object  which  is  beyond  positive  conception,  and  which  can  be  accepted 
only  as  something  to  be  believed  in  spite  of  its  inconceivability.  To 
conceive  an  existence  beyond  the  first  moment  of  time,  and  to  connect 
that  existence  as  cause  with  the  subsequent  temporal  succession  of 
effects,  we  must  conceive  time  itself  as  non-existent  and  then  com- 
mencing to  exist.  But  when  we  make  the  effort  to  conceive  time  as 
noD-existent,  we  find  it  impossible  to  do  so.  Time,  as  the  universal 
condition  of  human  consciousness,  clings  round  the  very  conception 
which  strives  to  destroy  it,  clings  round  the  language  in  which  we 
speak  of  an  existence  hefort  time.  Nor  are  we  more  successful  when 
we  attempt  to  conceive  an  infinite  regress  of  time,  and  an  infinite 
series  of  dependent  existences  in  time.  To  say  nothing  of  the  direct 
contradiction  involved  in  the  notion  of  an  unconditioned  whole, — a 
something  completed, — composed  of  infinite  parts — of  parts  never  com- 
pleted,— even  if  we  abandon  the  Whole,  and  with  it  the  Unconditioned, 
and  attempt  merely  to  conceive  an  infinite  succession  of  conditioned 
existences — conditioned,  absurdly  enough,  by  notliing  beyond  them- 
selves,— we  find,  that  in  order  to  do  so,  we  must  add  moment  to 
moment  for  ever — a  process  which  would  require  an  eternity  for  its 
accomplishment.*    Moreover,  the  chain  of  dependent  Existences  in 

•  See  "  DiBCussions,"  p.  29.  Of  course  by  this  b  not  meant  that  no  duration  can  be 
conceived  except  in  a  duration  equally  long — that  a  thousand  years,  e.  g.,  can  only  be  con- 
ceived in  a  thousand  years.  A  thousand  years  may  be  conceived  as  one  unit :  infinity 
cannot ;  for  a  unit  is  something  complete,  and  therefore  limited.  "What  is  meant  is,  that 
any  period  of  time,  however  long,  ia  conceived  as  capable  of  further  increase,  and  there- 
fore as  not  infinite.  An  infinite  duration  can  have  no  time  before  or  after  it;  and  thus 
cannot  resemble  any  portion  of  finite  time,  however  great.  When  we  dream  of  conceiving 
an  infinite  regress  of  time,  says  Sir  W.  Hamilton,  "  we  only  deceive  ourselves  by  substi- 
tuting the  indefinite  for  the  infinite,  than  which  no  two  notions  can  be  more  opposed." 
This  caution  has  not  been  attended  to  by  some  later  critics.  Thus,  Dr.  Whewell  ("  Phi- 
losophy of  Discovery,"  p.  32i)  says:  "  The  definition  of  an  infinite  number  is  not  that  it 
contains  all  possible  unities;  but  this — that  the  progress  of  numeration,  being  beg:uii 
according  to  a  certain  law,  goes  on  without  limit."  This  ia  precisely  Descartes'  definition, 
not  of  the  infinite,  but  of  the  inde/imte.  "  Principia,"  i.  26  :  "  Nos  autem  ilia  omnia,  in 
quibus  sub  aliqua  conaideratione  nullum  finem  poterimua  invenire,  uon  ^uidem  offinna- 


46  The  Contemporary  Review. 

this  infinite  succession  is  not,  like  a  mathematical  series,  composed  of 
abstract  and  homogeneous  imits ;  it  is  made  up  of  divers  phenomena, 
of  a  regressive  line  of  causes,  each  distinct  from  the  other.  Wherever, 
therefore,  I  stop  in  my  addition,  I  do  not  positively  conceive  the  terms 
which  lie  beyond.  I  apprehend  them  only  as  a  series  of  unknown 
somethtTtgs,  of  which  I  may  believe  that  they  are,  but  am  unable  to  say 
what  they  are. 

The  cardinal  point,  then,  of  Sir  W.  Hamilton's  philosophy,  expressly 
announced  as  such  by  himself,  is  the  absolute  necessity,  imder  any 
system  of  philosophy  whatever,  of  acknowledging  the  existence  of  a 
sphere  of  belief  beyond  the  limits  of  the  sphere  of  thought.  "  The 
main  scope  of  my  specxJation,"  he  says,  "  is  to  show  articulately  that 
we  must  believe,  as  actual,  much  that  we  are  unable  (positively) 
to  conceive  aa  even  possible."*  It  is,  of  course,  beyond  the  range  of 
such  a  specidation,  by  itself,  to  enter  on  an  examination  of  the 
positive  evidences  in  support  of  one  form  of  belief  rather  than  another. 
So  far  as  it  aims  only  at  exhibiting  a  universal  law  of  the  human 
mind,  it  is  of  course  compatible  with  all  special  forms  of  belief  which 
do  not  contradict  that  law;  and  none,  whatever' their  pretensions,  can 
really  contradict  it.  Hence  the  service  which  such  a  philosophy  can 
render  to  the  Christian  religion  must  necessarily,  from  the  nature  of 
the  case,  be  of  an  indirect  and  negative  character.  It  prepares  the 
way  for  a  fair  examination  of  the  proper  evidences  of  Christianity,  by 
showing  that  there  is  no  ground  for  any  d  priori  prejudice  against 
revelation,  as  appealing,  for  the  acceptance  of  its  highest  truths,  to 
faith  rather  than  to  reason;  for  that  this  appeal  is  common  to  all 
religions  and  to  all  phUosophies,  and  cannot  therefore  be  m^d  against 
one  more  than  another.  So  far  as  certain  difficulties  are  inherent  in 
the  constitution  of  the  human  mind  itself,  they  must  necessarily 
occupy  the  same  position  with  respect  to  all  religions  alike.  To 
exhibit  the  nature  of  these  difficulties  is  a  service  to  true  rehgion ;  but 
it  is  the  service  of  the  pioneer,  not  of  the  builder ;  it  does  not  prove 
the  reUgion  to  be  true ;  it  only  clears  the  groimd  for  the  production  of 
the  special  evidences. 

Where  those  evidences  are  to  be  found,  Sir  W.  Hamilton  has  not 
failed  to  tell  us.  If  mere  intellectual  speculations  on  the  nature  and 
origin  of  the  material  universe  form  a  common  ground  in  which  the 
theist,  the  pantheist,  and  even  the  atheist,  may  alike  expatiate,  the 
moral  and  religious  feelings  .of  man — those  facts  of  consciousness 
which  have  their  direct  source  in  the  sense  of  personality  and  free 

bimus  esse  infinita,  aed  ut  indefinita  spectabimus."  An  iadefinito  time  is  that  which  is 
capable  of  perpetual  addition :  an  infinite  time  ib  one  bo  great  a^  to  admit  of  no  addition. 
Surely  "no  two  notions  can  bo  more  opposed." 

•  Letter  to  Mr.  Calderwood.    See  "Lectures,"  toI.  ii.,  p.  634. 


The  Philosophy  of  the  Conditioned.  47 

will — plead  with  overwhelming  evidence  in  behdf  of  a  personal  God, 
and  of  man's  relation  to  Him,  as  a  person  to  a  person.  We  have  seen, 
in  a  previous  quotation,  Hamilton's  emphatic  declaration  that  "  psy- 
chological materialism,  if  carried  out  fully  and  fairly  to  its  conclu- 
sions, inevitably  results  in  theological  atheism."  In  the  same  spirit 
he  tells  us  that  "  it  is  only  as  man  is  a  free  intelligence,  a  moral 
power,  that  he  is  created  after  the  image  of  Qod;"*  that  "with  the 
proof  of  the  moral  nature  of  man,  stands  or  falls  the  proof  of  the 
existence  of  a  Deity;"  that  "the  possibility  of  morality  depends  on 
the  possibility  of  liberty ;"  that  "  if  man  be  not  a  free  agent,  he  is  not 
the  author  of  his  actions,  and  haa  therefore  no  responsibility,  no 
moral  personality  at  all ;"+  and,  finally,  "  that  he  who  disbelieves  the 
moral  agency  of  man,  must,  in  consistency  with  that  opinion,  dis- 
believe Christianity."  J  We  have  thus,  in  the  positive  and  negative 
sides  of  this  philosophy,  both  a  reasonable  ground  of  belief  and  a 
warning  against  presumption.  By  our  immediate  consciousness  of  a 
moral  and  personal  nature,  we  are  led  to  the  belief  in  a  moral  and 
personal  (rod :  by  our  ignorance  of  the  unconditioned,  we  are  led  to 
the  further  beliei^  that  behind  that  moral  and  personal  manifestation  of 
God  there  lies  concealed  a  mystery — the  mystery  of  the  Absolute  and 
tiie  Infinite ;  that  our  intellectual  and  moral  qualities,  though  indicating 
tiie  nearest  approach  to  the  Divine  Perfections  which  we  are  capable 
of  conceiving,  yet  indicate  them  as  analogous,  not  as  identical ;  that 
we  may  naturally  expect  to  find  points  where  this  analogy  will  fell 
us,  where  the  function  of  the  Infinite  Moral  Governor  will  be  distinct 
from  that  of  the  finite  moral  servant;  and  where,  consequently,  we 
shall  be  liable  to  error  in  judging  by  human  rules  of  the  ways  of  Grod, 
whether  manifested  in  nature  or  in  revelation.  Such  is  the  true 
lesson  to  be  learnt  from  a  philosophy  which  teUs  us  of  a  God  who 
is  "  in  a  certain  sense  revealed,  in  a  certain  sense  concealed — at  once 
knoAvn  and  unknown." 

It  is  not  surprising  that  this  philosophy,  when  compared  with  that  of 
a  critic  like  Mr.  Mill,  should  stand  out  in  clear  and  sharp  antagonism. 
Mr.  Mill  is  one  of  the  most  distinguished  representatives  of  that 
school  of  Materialism  which  Sir  W.  Hamilton  denounces  as  virtual 
Atheism.  We  do  not  mean  that  he  consciously  adopts  the  grosser 
tenets  of  the  materialists.  We  are  not  aware  that  he  has  ever  posi- 
tively denied  the  existence  of  a  soul  distinct  from  the  body,  or  main- 
tained that  the  brain  secretes  thought  as  the  liver  secretes  bile.  But 
he  is  the  advocate  of  a  philosophical  method  which  makes  the 
belief  in  the  existence  of  an  immaterial  principle  superfluous  and 
incongruous  ;  he  acknowledges  no  such  distinction  between  the  phe- 
nomena of  mind  and  those  of  matter  as  to  reqxiire  the  hypothesis  of  a 

•  "  Lectnret,"  vol.  i.,  p.  30.  t  Ihii.,  p.  33.  J  Ibid.,  p.  42. 


48  TIu  Contemporary  Review. 

second  principle  to  account  for  it ;  be  regards  the  ascertained  laws  of 
Cfjexistence  and  succession  in  material  phenomena  as  the  t^'pe  and 
rule  according  to  which  all  phenomena  whatever — those  of  internal 
conscioasness  no  less  than  those  of  external  obser\-ation — are  to  be 
tested ;  alxive  all,  he  expressly  denies  the  existence  of  that  free  will 
which  Sir  "W.  Hamilton  regards  as  the  indispensable  condition  of  all 
morality  and  all  religion.  Thus,  instead  of  recognising  in  the  facts  of 
intelligence,  "  an  order  of  existence  diametrically  in  contrast  to  that 
displayed  to  us  in  the  facta  of  the  material  universe,"*  he  r^ards  both 
classes  of  facta  as  of  the  same  kind,  and  explicable  by  the  same  laws ;  he 
abolishes  the  primary  contrast  of  consciousness  between  the  ego  and 
the  non-ego — the  i)erson  and  the  thing ;  he  reduces  man  to  a  thing, 
instead  of  a  person, — to  one  among  the  many  phenomena  of  the 
universe,  determined  by  the  same  laws  of  invariable  antecedence  and 
consequence,  included  under  the  same  formulae  of  empirical  general- 
ization. He  thus  makes  man  the  slave  and  not  the  master  of  nature ; 
passively  carried  along  in  the  current  of  successive  phenomena; 
unable,  by  any  act  of  free  will,  to  arrest  a  single  wave  in  its  course, 
or  to  divert  it  from  its  ordained  direction. 

This  diametrical  antagonism  between  the  two  philosophers  is  not 
limited  to  their  first  principles,  but  extends,  as  might  naturally  be 
expected,  to  every  subordinate  science  of  whicli  the  immediate  object  is 
mental,  and  not  material.  Logic,  instead  of  being,  as  Sir  W.  Hamilton 
regards  it,  an  a  priori  science  of  the  necessary  laws  of  thought,  is  with 
Mr.  Mill  a  science  of  observation,  investigating  those  operations  of  tlie 
understanding  which  are  subservient  to  the  estimation  of  evidence.-f 
Tlie  axioms  of  Mathematics,  which  the  former  philosopher  regards, 
with  Kant,  as  necessary  thoughts,  based  on  the  d  priori  intuitions  of 
space  and  time,  the  latter  declares  to  be  "  experimental  truths ;  gene- 
ralizations from  observation."  J  Psychologj',  which  with  Hamilton  is 
especially  the  philosophy  of  man  as  a  free  and  personal  agent,  is  with 
Mill  the  science  of  "  the  uniformities  of  succession ;  the  laws,  whether 
ultimate  or  derivative,  according  to  which  one  mental  state  succeeds 
another."§  And  finally,  in  the  place  of  Ethics,  as  the  science  of  the 
A  priori  laws  of  man's  moral  obligations,  we  are  presented,  in  Mr. 
Mill's  system,  with  Ethology,  the  "  science  which  determines  the  kind 
of  character  produced,  in  conformity  to  the  general  laws  of  mind,  by 
any  set  of  circumstances,  physical  and  moral"  || 

The  contrast  between  the  two  philosophers  being  thus  thoroi^h- 
going,  it  was  natural  to  expect  beforehand  tliat  an  "  Examination  of 
Sir  William  Hamilton's  Philosophy,"  by  Mr.  Mill,  would  contain  a 
sharp  and  vigorous  assault  on  the  principal  doctrines  of  that  philo- 

•  Hamilton,  "Lectures,"  vol  i.,  p.  29.  t  Mill's  "Logic:"  Introduction,  j  7. 

X  Ibid.,  book  ii.  6,  H-  §  -^^'('■,  book  n.  i,  {  3.  |j  Ibid.,  book  vi.  6,  }  1- 


Tlie  Philosophy  of  the  Conditioned.  49 

sophy.  And  this  expectation  has  been  amply  fulfilled.  But  there 
was  also  reason  to  expect,  from  the  ability  and  critical  power  displayed 
in  Mr.  Mill's  previous  writings,  that  his  assault,  whether  successful  or 
not  in  overthrowing  hia  enemy,  would  at  least  be  guided  by  a  clear 
knowledge  of  that  enemy's  position  and  purposes ;  that  his  dissent 
would  be  accompanied  by  an  intelligent  apprehension,  and  au  accurate 
statement,  of  the  doctrines  dissented  from.  In  this  expectation,  we 
r^ret  to  say,  we  have  been  disappointed.  Not  only  is  Mr.  Mill's 
attack  on  Hamilton's  philosophy,  with  the  exception  of  some  minor 
details,  unsuccessful ;  but  we  are  compelled  to  add,  that  with  regard 
to  the  three  fundamental  doctrines  of  that  philosophy — ^the  Relativity 
of  Knowledge,  the  incognisability  of  the  Absolute  and  Infinite,  and 
the  distinction  between  Eeason  and  Faith — Mr.  Mill  has,  throughout 
his  criticism,  altogether  missed  the  meaning  of  the  theories  he  is 
attempting  to  assail. 

This  is  a  serious  charge  to  bring  against  a  writer  of  such  eminence 
as  Mr.  Mill,  and  one  which  should  not  be  advanced  without  ample 
proof.  Want  of  apace  alone  prevents  us  from  proceeding  with  the 
proof  immediately ;  but  we  promise  that  it  shall  be  forthcoming  in 
the  next  portion  of  our  article. 


TOLL 


MODEEN  GREECE. 


An   Sj-eurHm   In  W*  Pdoiwhuwiu.   !■   tie  ymr   19M.     By   Dia  Uta 
mCbC   Hod.    Sir  TuuHAJi   WyhK,   K.C.B.,    HH.    Emoy  Eitewirdi- 

u?  uid  Mjnisttr  t'lpiji|ii.>l^iitiiU7  tX  Al-hcna  rnun  1^49  to  \M2. 
Kdltud  byliii  Nibm,  WiMrnKtiR  M.  'Wisi.  Two  Tok,  a»t>.  Loadoa: 
Dny  and  Sod,  ISOS. 

FpHERE  is  no  want  of  books  ot  travels  in  Greece.  Soon  after  the 
J.  beginning  of  tbe  present  century,  before  the  modem  mce  of 
tourisia  had  extended  their  rambles  iHjyoml  tlie  slinres  cil'  Italy,  and 
when  a  voyage  to  the  Levant  was  still  a  tediijns  and  uncertain  aflair, 
tbe  clagsicjJ  regions  of  Greece  were  explored  hy  Dodwell,  Sir  W.  Gcll, 
and,  above  all,  by  Colonel  Leake,  witli  a  zeal  and  diligence  that  con- 
trast strikingly  with  the  indolent^  dlkUante  mode  of  travelling  so 
general  in  these  days  of  atemulioats  an<l  raib-oads.  Since  the  estab- 
lishment of  tbe  independent  kingdom  of  Greece,  almost  every  comer 
nf  the  land  has  been  ransacked  with  the  most  praiseworthy  energy  by 
niimerous  German  scholars,  some  of  them  residents  in  the  couatn,'. 
others  only  pajang  it  a  temporary  visit,  but  even  these  generally 
devoting  themselves  to  the  examination  of  its  topognipliy  and  anti- 
quities with  that  minute  and  careful  dibgencc  so  characteristic  of 
their  countrymen.  Tlie  labours  of  Eoss,  of  Uliichs,  of  Forchhammer, 
and  of  Ciirtiita,  bave  contiibuted  much  to  onr  inforaiatiou,  even  after 
the  fiingnlarly  complet-e  and  elaboi'ate  investigations  of  Colonel  Leake ; 
and  there  are  now  hut  few  parts  of  the  classic  soil  of  Hellas  where 
the  antiquarian  traveller  can  hope  to  find  anj'thing  that  has  escaped 
the  notice  of  his  predecessoTs.  Much,  very  much,  undoubtedly  re- 
mains bo  be  discovered  ;  but  the  task  ig  one  beyond  the  means  of  the 
unassisted  traveller,  and  we  must  wait  for  systematic  cscavatiuna  to 
bring  to  light  the  treasures  of  art  which  in  all  probability  still  he  hid 


Modern  Greece.  51 

beneath  the  surface,  as  well  as  to  determine  many  doubtful  questions 
by  laying  bare  the  foundations  of  temples  and  monuments  of  which 
no  trace  is  now  visible. 

But  while  the  requirements  of  the  classical  scholar  and  archaeologist 
have  thus  been  in  great  measure  provided  for,  those  of  the  general 
reader  have  been  comparatively  neglected.  A  good  book  of  tmvels  in 
Greece  is  still,  in  one  sense,  a  dtsideratum, — there  is  none  to  which 
we  could  refer  our  readers  for  a  lively  and  at  the  same  time  trustworthy 
account  of  the  present  state  of  the  coimtry  and  the  people.  Most 
travellers  in  this  classic  land  have  been  so  absorbed  in  the  reminis- 
cences of  the  past,  that  they  have  told  us  but  little  about  the  present. 
Colonel  Mure's  "  Tour  in  Greece"  is,  indeed,  in  some  degree  an  excep- 
tion, and  contains  much  interesting  information  concerning  the  country 
as  it  then  was ;  but  more  than  twenty-five  years  have  elapsed  since 
the  date  of  his  journey,  a  period  during  which  the  little  kingdom  of 
Greece  may  be  said  to  have  been  going  through  a  term  of  probation ; 
and  it  is  surely  not  without  interest  to  learn  the  result.  Yet,  sii^ularly 
enough,  among  the  almost  innumerable  popular  books  of  travels  that 
load  the  shelves  of  our  publishers,  hardly  one  is  devoted  to  the  de- 
scription of  continental  Greece ;  and  of  the  swarms  of  Englisli  travellers 
who  now  annually  visit  the  Nile,  the  Holy  Land,  and  Constantinople, 
very  few  bestow  more  time  upon  Greece  than  suffices  for  a  hasty 
glance  at  Athens  and  its  vicinity. 

Under  these  circumstances  nothing  can  be  more  opportune  than 
the  appearance  of  the  present  volumes ;  for  no  one  certainly  could  be 
better  qtialified  than  Sir  Tliomas  Wyse  to  supply  the  deficiency  thus 
indicated.  During  the  long  period  of  his  residence  as  British  minister 
at  the  Court  of  Athens,  while  he  entered  with  enthusiastic  interest 
into  all  the  classical  pursuits  and  associations  which  coidd  add  to  the 
enjoyment  of  such  a  residence,  his  attention  was  at  the  same  time 
steadily  turned  to  the  political  and  social  condition  of  the  people 
among  whom  he  was  living,  and  no  exertion  was  wanting  on  his  part 
to  promote  or  encourage  every  tendency  to  progress  and  impi-ovement. 
His  name  will  long  live  in  the  grateful  memory  of  the  Greeks,  who, 
whatever  their  faults,  are  not  unmindful  of  those  who  show  disinte- 
rested zeal  in  their  cause,  and  who  have  never  forgotten  the  services 
rendered  them  during  the  War  of  Independence  by  Byron,  by  Hamil- 
ton, and  by  Hastings. 

The  particular  tour  recorded  in  the  present  pages  was  undertaken, 
as  we  are  informed  by  Miss  Wyse  in  the  Preface,  with  the  special 
object  of  collecting  information  for  the  "  Financial  Commission  to 
inquire  into  the  Kesources  of  Greece,"  which  was  appointed  immedi- 
ately after  the  Crimean  War,  and  of  which  Sir  Thomas  Wyse  was 
president.     The  statistical  and  other  materials  collected  by  that  Com- 


52  The  Contemporary  Review. 

mission — forming  "  a  large  mass  of  valuable  papers,  which  at  the  time 
was  called  a  mine  of  knowledge  and  instructiou" — have  never  been  pub- 
lished :  they  still  slumber  in  the  archives  of  the  Foreign  Office.  But 
even  had  they  been  given  to  the  world,  there  are  probably  few  of  our 
readers  who  would  have  cared  to  wade  through  the  pages  of  a  pon- 
derous blue-book,  in  search  of  the  infonnation  which  is  now  conveyed 
to  them  in  a  more  attractive  form.  The  journal  kept  by  Sir  Thomaa 
Wyse  was  not  originally  designed  for  publication;  and  thongh  he 
took  it  up  again  after  a  considerable  inter\'al  with  a  ■view  to  prepare 
it  for  the  press,  his  project  was  cut  short  abrupUy  by  the  hand  of 
death.  The  care  of  its  pubhcation  consequently  devolved  upon  his 
accomplished  niece,  who  had  for  many  years  presided  over  his  house 
at  Athens,  had  accompanied  Iiim  ujwn  the  tour  in  question,  was 
acquainted  with  all  his  \-iews,  and  fully  shared  in  his  s>nnpathy  with 
the  aspirations  and  endeavours  of  the  people  among  whom  they  had 
both  so  long  resided.  In  giving  to  the  world  the  journal  ttius  con- 
fided to  her  charge.  Miss  Wyse  has  not  only  discharged  a  debt  of 
private  gratitude  to  her  uncle's  memory,  but  has  conferred  a  real  obli- 
gation upon  the  public,  both  in  England  and  Greece,  by  affording  the 
people  of  this  country  the  means  of  forming  a  soimd  and  well- 
grounded  judgment  upon  the  condition  and  prospects  of  the  rising 
kingdom. 

It  is,  indeed,  somewhat  to  be  regretted  that  so  laige  &  portion  of  the 
work  before  us  should  be  devoted  to  antiquarian  details  and  archjeo- 
logical  discussions,  which  can  add  but  little  to  our  knowledge,  while 
the  length  to  which  they  extend  may  have  the  effect  of  deterring 
some  readers,  who  woidd  gladly  follow  Sir  Thomas  Wyse  through  bis 
animated  descriptions  of  Greek  scenery  and  Greek  life,  as  he  found  it 
in  the  more  secluded  districts  of  the  Peloponnese.  In  the  following 
pages  we  propose  to  confine  ourselves  almost  exclusively  to  those  por- 
tions of  the  book  which  throw  light  upon  the  circumstances  and 
condition  of  modem  Greece.  Neither  the  mode  in  which  Sir  Thomas 
Wyse  travelled,  nor  the  time  at  his  disposal,  admitted  of  Lis  carrying 
on  any  such  continuous  researches  as  can  alone,  at  the  present  day, 
add  to  our  knowledge  of  the  ancient  Hellenic  world. 

lu  one  respect,  iadeed,  the  tour  made  by  Sir  Thomas  Wyse  differed 
ftt>m  those  of  any  of  his  predecessors.  He  was  accompanied  on  the 
excursion  in  question  by  two  ladies, — his  niece,  to  whom  we  are 
indebted  for  the  publication  of  the  present  volmues,  and  a  friend  of 
hers.  Both  of  them  had  heard  much  before  lea^-ing  Athens  of  the 
discomforts  and  difficulties  to  which  they  were  about  to  subject  them- 
selves ;  but,  "  imdismayed  by  these  reports,  they  were  eager  to  put  to 
personal  test,  for  their  own  satisfaction  and  the  benefit  of  future  lady 
travellers,  the  justice  of  these  discouragements."     The  result  was 


Modern  Greece.  53 

highly  satisfactory,  and  may  be  taken  as  an  assurance  that  there 
are  no  difficulties  in  a  tour  in  Greece  which  need  repel  the  more 
adventurous  of  the  fair  sex,  while  they  may  certainly  look  forward  to 
a  rich  harvest  of  enjoyment.  The  conditions  of  travelling  in  Greece 
are  indeed  peculiar :  it  is  in  a  state  of  transition  from  the  Oriental 
system,  where  khans  and  convents  supplied  the  only  accommodation 
for  travellers,  to  the  European  system  of  regular  inns  and  liotelp. 
But  it  must  be  admitted  that  it  lias  as  yet  made  but  little  progress  in 
this  direction.  "  Khans  and  convents,"  observes  Sir  Thomas  "Wyse, 
"  are  going  out,  but  inns  have  not  come  in."  Tlie  traveller  has  still 
to  depend,  in  great  measure,  upon  the  casual  lodging  in  any  house  in 
the  village  where  he  takes  up  his  quarters,  the  inhabitants  of  which 
are  willing  to  receive  him  "  for  a  consideration ;"  and  he  must  carry 
with  him  his  own  food  and  the  means  of  cooking  it.  But  the  couriers, 
or  professional  travelling  ser\'ant3  at  Athens,  are  now  so  well  ac- 
quainted with  all  the  routes  which  are  usually  taken  by  travellers, 
and  the  places  where  they  are  likely  to  halt,  that  they  almost  always 
secure  them  the  best  accommodation  that  the  village  can  afford,  and 
the  tourist  may  traverse  most  parts  of  Greece  without  having  to  put 
up  with  such  quarters  as  were  frequently  encountered  by  lieake  or 
Colonel  Mure.  No  doubt  the  first  aspect  of  some  of  these  sleeping- 
places  is  discouraging  enough.  The  following  description  by  Sir 
Thomas  Wyse  may  serve  as  an  example : — 

"  Dimitri  stopped  before  a  wretclial  liouae,  informing  ua  that  this  was  to 
he  OTir  hotel  for  the  niglit.  The  dismay  of  our  party  was  amusing ;  was 
tbere  no  other  house  in  the  villiige,  loss  dilapiilatwl,  and  more  habitablut 
With  many  grpoffcvvfj/jarn,  AgoyiaUis,  villagers — in  iini;,  every  one — ileclared 
it  was  the  l)est,  only  -lat^dy  built,  not  yet  tinisheil,  exempt  from  all  the  usual 
concomitants,  and  a  wonder  and  envy  to  the  inhabit^uits  of  Bogas,  all  whicli 
Dimitri  confirmed.  Reluctantly  submitting,  with  nuuiy  a  shako  of  the  head, 
as  the  day  had  waned,  we  clamlwred  up  a  (lisjoijited  heaji  of  stones,  the  sub- 
stitute for  steps.  The  house  itself  ])rovetl  better  tlian  its  exterior  ck-ueted, 
and  later  we  had  on  several  occasions  to  look  back  with  respect  and  regret 
to  this  our  first  acquaintance  with  true  Hellenic  lixlgings  at  Biigiis." — 
{P.  313.) 

This  was  the  first  night  after  leaving  Jlessene,  but  the  next  at 
PatxUtza,  on  the  site  of  the  ancient  Phigaleia,  was  still  more  unpro- 
mising : — 

"  After  passing  througli  a  nigged  ravuic,  amongst  rambling  torrent-lxuls 
rather  than  footways,— streets  of  course  there  were  iinne, — our  horses'  heads 
were  turned  aside  into  what  was  announced  as  the  best  habitiition  of  the 
village.  It  stood  among  old  olive-roots  and  broken  walls,— where  a  scowl- 
ing group  of  men  and  women,  in  spite  of  Leonidiiw,  mir  gemlarme,  kept 
storuig  at  us  with  evident  suspicion  as  iiitnulers.  J)n'nched  with  wet,  no 
alternative  was  left,  but,  sighing  for  the  luxiirj-  of  ISogiw,  to  resign  ourselves 
to  tlie  hovel  before  us.  In  the  midst  of  our  annoyitnce,  Dimitri  declared 
that  their  Majesties  had  more  than  once  passed  a  night  in  the  same  dwell- 


54 


The  Co7itemporary  Review. 


ing.  I  cannot  say  that  we  needed  such  indticwment  to  accept  its  hospitalitj  ,,: 
>mt  it  fumiflhed  a  striking  proof  (if  tho  tmppjvidetl  state  &f  the  interior  pari. 
of  the  cdtmtrj-,  that  the  srivtwiftn  ronUl  fiiul  no  fitter  resttng-pkce.  Had  I 
hicen  an  inTiliniir^*  tmvellRT,  1  might  hnve  disfireditwl  such  a  dtatisnicnt ;  but 
I  hod  every  reason  to  believe  in  ita  truth.  On  nearer  approach,  the  hut  was 
even  more  forhiiUUnp.  A  doi'^r  and  a  few  loopholes  gave  it  light,  and  it 
WAS  hardly  proteetod  from  the  min  \\y  tlu?  wretched  roof,  tlirough  which  the 
giuokc  piiirced  with  fitill  less  difficulty.  'Ilio  roof  waa  corapa^  of  hronchca 
of  tree^  covered  -with  loos*  flat  stones  in  tnie  primeval  Arkadian  fashion. 
Hgto,  nevertheless,  we  pai&aed^llianka,  perhaps,  to  the  cold^a  tolerable 
iiiglit.  Our  baggage  arriving  early,  had.  fcirtunately  escaped  the  rain,  and 
tliu^i,  wittt  a  hlfuing  fire  aiiJ  \\  ditim'r  speedily  ptepared  and  eaten,  we  forgot 
the  labours  of  the  dny.  Tlie  servants  iitnl  Agoyiate^s  were  cjuartered  in  other 
lints.  Leotiiiliishad  taken  cai-e  tn  see  all  aitperfluous  furnituifl  removed  from 
orir  abode,  aiid  iJimitti  ilistiiigHishHl  hinisflf  as  fl.n  architect  iu  treiting  and 
arranging  Tonnis  fur  (ilil-  reBpeetivo  qiiartera.  lliUs  all  were  eatly  asleep, 
despite  cries  of  evciy  sort  from  oatives,  Agoytatts,  servanta,  dogS,  ftheep,  ami 
aasea-  around  na/' — (P.  18.) 

But  if  the  traveller  will  sometimea  have  to  encounter  the  discomfort 
of  rough  qtiartera  and  a  sleepless  ui«,'lit,  he  will  be  am^ply  compensat-ed 
Ijy  the  enjoyment  of  the  moriiiiij^'d  ride  that  follows  in  tbo  clear 
bracing  air,  and  Ijy  tlio  jnid-dny  Imit  beside  some  mountain  streamlet, 
or  where  a  ibuntain,  gushing  forth  beneath  a  spreading  plane  tree, 
recitlla  tu  bis  iniud  the  siiiuUir  scene  already  deswllied  by  Homer, — 

cdXif  iin-fj  TtKaravloTif,  liQif  pity  kyXaay  vSiMt. 

It  lias  often  been  remarkeJ,  thiit  among  tlie  most  pleasing  reminia- 
ceuuea  whiuh  the  tmveller  biiuga  back  from  a  tour  iu  the  Alps  are  the 
mid-ilay  halts  for  refreahnieiit  at  the  edge  of  the  glacier,  or  in  same 
spot  cUoscn  as  comiULiuiUn^  a  mountain  view  of  aurjiassiu^  magnifi- 
cence; but  we  aixi  conlident  that  the  lounst  iu  Greece  will  look  hack 
w^itli  no  less  eujuyment  to  the  mxiutide  hours  lie  has  spent  aniidat 
scenery  of  a  verj'  diflei-cut  character,  but  of  which  tlic  charm  gradu- 
ally steals  over  the  mind,  and  tli'.mgh  felt  less  strongly  at  first,  ends 
with  leaving  an  impresaion  never  to  be  effaced. 

Unfortunately,  in  one  respect,  travelling  in  Greece  has  chaoged 
materially  (or  the  worse  since  Sir  Thomas  "^Vyse'a  tour  was  made,  At 
that  time,  and  for  some  years  afterwards,  there  was  no  fear  of  robbers 
in  any  part  of  the  Morea,  and  when  the  party  landed  at  GytMum, 
their  courier,  Dimitri,  assured  tbetu  that  the  race  of  brigands  was 
extinct,  and  miglit  be  classed  with  t.!ie  mj-ths  uf  the  heroic  ages.  But 
since  then,  the  revolution,  of  1802,  and  the  period  of  anarchy  by  which 
it  was  followed,  have  once  more  diaorgauizetl  the  country,  ami 
8ome  yeai's  may  probably  elapse  before  the  interiar  of  Greece  ia 
restored  to  the  same  state  of  security  wliich  it  enjoyed  aa  lately 
aa  ISiil. 

The  first  point  at  which  Sir  Thomas  Wyse  touched  is  one  nirely 


I 


Modern  Greece. 


53 


^ 
¥ 


¥ 


visited  by  travellers, — indeeJ,  we  do  uot  remember  to  have  seen  any 
otlier  description  of  it  than  that  of  Colonel  Leake, — the  island  fortress 
Monemvasia,  called  by  tbe  Venetianu  Napoli  di  Molvaaia,  on  the 
Tisteni  coast  of  Lmcoiiia;  a  bold  insular  rock,  rising  almost  close  to  tlie 
shore,  mth  which  it  eeema  to  have  been  joined  in  ancient  times  by  a 
low  neck  of  sand,  thnu^L  now  separated  by  a  shallow  strait,  which  is 
crossed  by  a  bridge.  The  fortress,  which  is  aaid  somewhat  to  resemble 
(iibraltar  on  a  very  small  scale,  was  of  some  importance  in  the 
Venetian  times,  but  fell  into  utter  decay  in  the  Lands  of  the  Turks, 
and  is  now  a  mere  ruin.  The  to;vn  heluw  it,  tliongh  still  nQminally 
the  seat  of  a  bisbop,  and  boastijig  of  a  curious  old  Byzantine  church, 
is  little  leas  ruinous.  Hall"  the  houses  we  saw  (says  Sii-  T,  Wyae) 
were  nninhabiled^  a  larye  number  faUing  rapidly  "  into  min,  and  many 
windowlesfi  and  roofleaa.  There  is  no  manufacture,  trade,  or  indiigtry 
in  the  place ;  the  open  rnadstead  to  the  south,  as  much  exposed  as 
that  on  the  north,  showed  only  two  small  fishing  smacks  as  represent- 
atives of  their  commerce."  Yet  the  place  lias  still  a  certain  shadow 
of  its  former  consequence ;  it  13  tbe  seat  of  a  tribunal,  and  of  an 
EiMirchy,  a  district  of  some  e^itent,  whicli  returns  two  deputies  to  the 
Chambers.  On  Sir  Thomas  Wyae's  landing  from  an  KugUah  war 
steamer,  the  first  that  had  toucihed  there  for  many  years,  the  authuri- 
liea  all  hastened  to  meet  hira;  the  Epardi,  a  "silent  jejune  man,  in 
iakind  trousers ;  the  Demarcli,  in  a  creditably  clean  fustanella ;  and  the 
iloctor,  in  Trank  dress,  presenting  a  good  epitome  of  the  transition 
through  whicli  manners  and  costuniea  are  hastening  in  (Ireece."  The 
tTowd  that  soon  gathered  round  them  was  not  less  varied  in  character, 
comprising  "  all  sorts  of  fuatanellaSj  island  trousers,  and  one  or  two 
'young  Greece'  pale  and  travelled  faces,  in  Frank  dress  and  white 
neckcloths  (I  waa  thankful  there  were  no  'gants  glacijs'),  leading  the 
way,"  Such  are  the  anomalies  and  contrasts  that  meet  the  traveller's 
eye  at  every  step  in  the  Greece  of  the  present  day. 

Yet  even  in  such  a  poor  and  decaying  place  as  Monemvaaia,  the 
sjrmptoms  of  intellectual  movement  are  suiierior  to  what  might  have 
been  expected  from  tbe  aspect  of  its  material  condition.  "  They  have 
two  Demotic  or  primary  schools,  and  one  Hellenic.  The  second  of 
these  primary  schools,  for  girls,  counted,  they  $aid,  about  thirty  pupils, 
who  were  verj'  regular  in  their  attendance.  A  large  proportion  of 
the  people  read  and  write.  We  found  many  newspapers,  and  n  good 
deal  of  inquiry  on  all  manner  of  public  afi'oirs;  for,  like  most  Glreck 
towns,  JMnnemvosia  boasts  of  a  cof4,  which  is  also  a  reading-room,  and 
has  a  billiard-table  for  loungers.     A  few  spoke  French  and  Italian." 

It  is  strange  to  renicmber  that  the  name  of  tliis  now  obscure  and 
aecludcd  fortress  on  a  rock  was,  in  the  MidtUe  Ages,  celebrated  through- 
out Europe  from  its  hanng  given  name  to  tbe  famous  "  Malvoisie  "  or 


56 


Th4  Contemporary  Review. 


"  Malmsey  "  wine,  wldch  then  enjoyed  the  hir^liest  repute^  aud  was  the 
faviiurite  beverage  of  one  of  our  English  princes.  Notlung  of  the  kind 
is  iKiw  laade  in  the  neighbourhood,  aud  the  Ijarren  and  sun-parched 
rocks  of  this  part  of  the  coasts  of  Lacotiia  would  seem  to  hold  out 
little  proapect  of  its  ever  being  revived.  But  u  latj^  portion  of  the 
wine  iJiat  passed  under  the  name,  even  in  the  Sliddle  Agea,  appears 
to  have  come  irotu  Crete,  the  "wiues  of  which  then  bore  so  high  a 
reputation;  tliat  in  1421,  when  Prince  Henry  of  Portugal  was  abont  to 
establish  a  colony  in  Madeira,  then  recently  discovered,  he  sent  to 
Cret«  for  vines  of  the  choicest  quality,  with  which  to  stock  the  island. 
Thus  the  Madeira  of  the  present  day — if,  indeed,  its  day  has  not 
already  departed — raay  be  said  to  trace  its  lineal  descent  from  the 
barren  rocks  of  Mfllvasia. 

From  Monemvftsia  Sir  T.  Wyse  proceeded  by  sea  to  Marathonisi,  a 
smidl  town  on  tlie  coast  of  Laconia,  ■which  lias  now  resumed  the 
ancient  name  of  Gythium,  familiar  to  the  scholar  as  the  seaport  of 
Sparta.  Its  position,  indeed,  marks  it  out  as  the  natural  plaoe  of 
export  for  the  productions  of  the  rich  plains  of  Sparta  and  the 
"golden"  vale  of  the  Eurotas;  aud  anch  it  continues  to  be  even  at  the 
present  day,  Yet  ita  aspect,  as  seen  from  the  sea,  was  only  a  ehade 
less  niisentble  than  that  of  Monemvaaia.  "  It  looked  a  wretched 
eonipheatian  of  house  upon  house,  on  the  sides  of  the  naked  hill, 
dotted  here  and  there  by  a  few  churches,  one  of  which,  dedicated 
to  St.  Demetrius,  rejoice=i.  in  a  belfry."  Nor  was  the  prospect  on 
enteruig  much  better : — 

"  The  iiEpeet  of  this  placo  la  wrotched.  The  lanes  are  narrow,  irregular, 
and  unwhi.»legonie  ;  and  the  bouses  squeezed  together,  by  the  nittiare  of  the 
m\\  and  insensibility  to  Biich  inponvenieuces  on  the  part  of  the  luhabitante. 
lli«  town  is  Bijjgnkrly  deticient  in  fresh  wa.ttr  und  ]iure  air  ;  but  a  ruslmig 
stream,  unfortunate  J  j  hmckish,  finding  its  way  as  it  can  through  the  bmkea 
pavement  to  the  sea,  givBS  the  means,  hitherto  umised^  of  keeping  it  in  a 
paK:(ahle  stjitc  of  elpnidinesa.  jUI,  however,  looka  disconsolate,  mgged,  and 
ruiiious,  aa  if  the  jilace  had  only  yeatenlay  eeirapLHl  from  the  cannonade  of 
the  Turks,  and  aa  though,  during'  their  twenty-liv&  years  of  independence, 
tile  whole  jiopulation  had  been  fuat  iialecip.  There  ia  aotliinp  in  ita  exte.mat 
nppeanincti  wiiich  could  show  tliat  it  had  piisatsd  under  Chriatian  nde,  aiid 
were  it  not  for  the  ceremonial  of  the  authorities,  and  the  '  pniancipated  '  look 
of  this  younger  portion  of  the  populatirm,  who  arc  joyous  and  active  enough, 
one  might  s-uppose  they  yet  felt  the  tuen'iitinf^  infiuenees  of  their  late 
iiuiBtcM.  In  thia  particular,  they  made  a  iriuch  lesa  favourabla  inijireasiciin 
than  Muneuivasia ;  though,  aa  to  divellings  aud  streotS)  there  is  little  to 
decide  between  them."— (Pp.  43,50.) 

Yet  Marathonisi  is  not  without  a  certain  amount  of  trade,  ari.ging 
from  its  positiiin  as  the  natural  o«tlet  of  the  fertile  plains  and  valleys 
of  Laconia.  But  no  eflbrtrS  have  been  made  to  turn  these  opportunities 
to  account.     Nothing  has  been  done  to  improve  the  port,  which  is 


Modern  Greece.  57 

little  more  than  an  open  roadstead,  or  to  give  increased  facilities  of 
access  to  the  interior.  A  carriage  road  from  thence  to  Spai-ta  had 
heen  indeed  "  decreed  "  by  the  Government  at  Athens,  but  its  execu- 
tion had  never  even  been  commenced,  though  the  country  presents  no 
natural  difficulties. 

**  Despite  all  these  drawbacks,  it  must  not  be  euppoeed  that  Maratbonisi, 
possessing  so  considerable  a  stimulus  behind  it  as  the  plain  of  Sparta,  has  not 
improved.  Even  the  neighbourhood  of  this  town  shows  encouraging  symp- 
toms of  salutary  influences  in  the  increasing  culture  of  com,  vine,  and  mul- 
berry. Ihe  hills  around  are  rich  with  the  most  luxuriant  productions. 
The  com  crops  especially  are  magnificent ;  and  walking  through  field  after 
field  well  drained  and  well  hedged,  we  imagined  oureelves  in  Belgium  or 
England.  Nor  was  it  easy  to  reconcile  such  elements  of  substantial  wealth, 
in  so  healthy  a  state  of  activity,  with  the  miserable  decay  of  the  town,  which 
ought,  in  some  measure,  to  have  been  the  reflection  of  so  much  prosperity." 
-(P.  52.) 

Beyond  Marathonisi  on  the  west  extends  the  rugged  and  moun- 
tainous district  of  Maina,  formed  by  the  continuation  of  the  great 
chain  of  Taygetus,  stretching  down  to  the  celebrated  promontory  of 
Cape  Matapan,  the  ancient  TBenarus.  Sir  T.  Wyse  was  prevented  by 
bad  weather  from  landing  at  any  of  the  porta  along  this  wild  and 
stormy  coast ;  but  the  chief  interest  attached  to  a  visit  to  this  peculiar 
district  has  now  passed  away.  The  numerous  towers  visible  from  the 
sea  scattered  over  every  part  of  the  district,  whether  isolated  or 
attached  to  houses  in  the  towns  or  villages,  still  bear  witness  to  the 
recent  existence  of  the  state  of  things  described  by  Colonel  Leake, 
when  every  man's  hand  was  against  his  neighbour;  and  it  was  not 
imcommon  for  a  Maniote  cJiief  to  spend  years  together  without  ever 
quitting  the  protection  of  his  Pyi^  or  tower.  But,  as  Sir  T.  Wyse 
informs  us,  even  this  wild  district  has  gradually  subsided  into  the 
ordinary  manners  of  the  rest  of  Greece,  and  tlie  Pyrgos  of  Maina 
will  soon  be  as  much  the  relics  of  a  bygone  state  of  society  as  the 
robber  castles  on  the  Rhine. 

Striking  inland  from  Gythium  to  Sparta,  Sir  T.  Wyse  bears  the 
same  emphatic  testimony  as  all  other  travellers  have  done  to  the 
beautiful  situation  of  that  celebrated  city,  and  the  noble  'scenery  by 
which  it  is  surroimded.  The  actual  site  of  Sparta  is  indeed  much 
less  clearly  marked  out  by  its  natural  features  than  those  of  most 
other  Greek  cities :  it  had  no  Acropolis  in  the  proper  sense  of  the 
term ;  no  commanding  height  which  was  the  natural  defence  of  the 
city  beneath :  antiquarians  are  not  even  agreed  as  to  wluch  of  several 
low  hills  was  the  Acropolis  of  Sparta,  and  hence  the  to]X)graphy  of  the 
ancient  city  remains  very  obscure.  Nor  are  there  any  ruins  of  a  strik- 
ing or  prominent  character :  tlie  theatre  alone  remains  in  tolerable  pre- 
servation.    But  the  view  from  that  theatre  is  one  not  easily  surpassed. 


5S 


The  Coniemporary  Review. 


"  It  13  difficult  to  aee  more  JiTjundimce  witli  lias  imiformLty.  M\  kiiida  t>f 
luxuriance  in  full  produce,— tlie  sluir|>  green  mulberry,  the  t*!sdoe  line,  tlie 
valonea  in  stUBly  mo&sc^  oRmjjea,  mid  lemons, — eniboaoiiLmg  liriglit  liled 
Iiousea,  cam  like  a  very  &ta.  below  «a,  and  tinitigU  tlio  whole,  clunipa  of 
cj-pretees,  marking  two  realms  dcpartuil  for  ever — old  tJreecc  and  aged 
Turkey — aii<l  breaking  up  the  inonot^my,  both  pictoriii!  ami  historic.  Sparta 
the  new,  lu  tbf,!  miilst  of  this,  was  liardly  J isi;ovt'nibk',  exicjit  as  a  atriny  of 
pleasant  places,  Mnth  here  and  theiti  n  twinkling  of  tte  Euiotas,  to  indicate 
the  soui-cea  of  profusion.  Life  and  work  and  reward  are  eean  now  in  all 
this  ;  but  it  is  a  faint  reflection  of  it^  ancient  renown,  or  a]icient  proprietors. 
Here  is  found  whatever  the  most  iiiilustrious  or  thp  miist  luxurious.  cuuM 
desire.  And  to  comyilete  the  picture,  Tiiygetus.  rises  beyond,  tlie  great 
mountain  guanlian  of  all,  its  upright  wall  rising  irom.  tlia  ]dain,  its  ridgy 
dfchk'S,  its  outstanding  spurs,  eaeh  a  base  tor  a  cita<lel,  glnniny,  grand, 
nnciiangiiig  ;  all  this  has  another  inHuenee,  iind,  coiuprising  the  adjoining 
sceneiy  of  llenelaionj  stretching  gfT  to  I'lirnon,  in  its  stern  Tzakunian  cha- 
racter, brings  hack  the  tamper  to  «  more  Doric  mood,  and  hrafos  up  to 
manly  thought  what  wouid  else  disaolve  under  gentler  mflueiices. " — (Pp. 
95,  90.) 

Sir  Thomas  had  already  idsited  the  plain  of  Sparta,  many  years 
hefore,  when  it  was  far  more  solitary,  and  had  in  consequence  a  cha- 
racter leaa  rich  and  lusuriimt  than  it  now  presents.  Our  readers  will 
probably  recollect  that  tlie  site  had  become  completely  ahandouetl 
during  the  Middle  Ages,  so  that  the  earlier  travellers  in  Oreece  were 
actually  ignorant  where  this  far-tiimed  city  had  stood.  The  popidation 
had  withdrawn  to  IMiatra,  a  toftni  founded  on  one  of  the  lower  slopes 
of  Taygetns  by  Giiilliiume  de  Villehardouin  in  1250,  and  which  con- 
tinued under  the  Turkish  rule  to  be  the  capital  of  the  sun'ouuding 
district.  But  when  the  new"  kinydon:  of  Greece  was  eatahlisbed,  it 
was  determined  to  restore  the  seat  of  local  government  to  the  ancient 
site,  and  to  found  a  new  Sparta  amid  the  ruins  of  the  old  city.  The 
result  has  certainly  not  been  aatkfactory.  Mlstra  lias  heen  indeed 
abandoned,  and  now  presents  nothing  more  than  a  picturesque  heap  of 
ruins,  partly  mediaeval,  partly  Turkish,  clustering  round  the  steep  sides 
of  a  hill  crowned  by  the  mouldering  remtiiiifi  of  the  Frank  castle  above. 
The  scene  was  rendered  all  the  more  striking  to  Wir  Thomas  "^'yae 
becauae  he  had  himself  seen  it  in  tlie  days  of  its  Turkish  prosperity. 


"We  rode  np  under  a  hot  sun,  through  rocky  narrow  streets,  between 
high  enrlosing  coiut  walla,  over  wlii^h  a  burst  of  veninre  would  occasionally 
peejj.  It  still  was  ;i  Turkish  town  in  all  its  featujvs,  csctpt  tlie  inliabitanta 
— as  if  left  there  in  its  silence  iind  desolation  as  \x  warning  and  a  Kumesis. 
Not  iL  sound  wius  lieard  but  that  of  our  own  citvalca(ie^  uutil  we  rea<;hed  the 
dfljk  Bazaar ;  no  stir  nor  sound  of  life,  beyont!  li  nod  or  n  won!  from  some 
unoccupied  individual  seated  on  a  step  or  leaning  on  a  window  m  we 
scrambled  along.  \\Tien  last  I  troil  these  streL'tti,  though  attended  by  a 
Turkish  Janissary,  1  could  hardly  get  tluuugh  the  crowd,  and  had  more 
than  onco  to  hasten  my  stops,  in  onier  to  escape  fium  the  atones  of  urcliinti 
and  the  shoqts  of  '  Giaour  Kelh'  which  accomi»Rnied  them." — (F.  156.) 


i 


Modern  Greece.  59 

No  contrast  can  well  be  more  striking  than  that  presented  by  the 
new  town  of  Sparta  with  tlie  scene  thus  described.  It  has  been  laid 
out  according  to  the  Bavarian  taste  (unfortunately  introduced  by  that 
dynasty),  with  broad  streets  running  at  right  angles'to  each  other,  with 
houses  almost  all  traced  upon  a  given  plan,  and  that  essentiiJly  a 
German  model,  in  utter  oblivion  of  the  exigencies  of  the  climate ;  with 
no  protection  against  the  burning  sxm  of  Greece,  no  provision  for 
shade,  or  cooling  sparkling  fountains,  such  as  would  have  been  found 
in  every  comer  of  a  Turkish  town  of  similar  pretensions.  But  foun- 
tains, observes  Sir  T.  Wyse,  "  seem  to  have  gone  out  everywhere,  with 
baths  and .  storks,  as  well  as  mosques."  Meanwhile  the  plan  of  the 
projected  city,  like  most  projects  in  Greece,  has  been  laid  out  on  a 
scale  "  a  world  teo  wide "  for  its  scanty  population,  and  the  streets 
are  as  yet  but  dusty  roads  "studded  here  and  there  with  houses, 
leaving  yawning  distances,  dead  garden  walls,  and  stray  watercourses 
between."  The  place  has  something  the  air  of  a  str^gling  German 
watering-place,  without  its  neatness  or  look  of  prosperity.  It  must 
be  admitted  that  these  defects  are  in  part  incident  to  every  new  town, 
and  will  gradually  disappear  as  the  population  increases,  which  it 
must  necessarily  do,  as  the  resources  of  the  rich  valley  of  the  Eurotaa 
are  more  developed,  and  rendered  accessible  from  the  sea  by  the  loi^- 
projected  road  to  Gythium.  But  at  present  the  impression  produced 
on  the  mind  of  the  traveller  by  the  aspect  of  New  Sparta  is  that  of 
stagnation,  not  of  progress. 

From  Sparta  to  Kalamata  in  Messenia,  Sir  Thomas  Wyse  crossed 
the  rugged  range  of  Taygetus,  by  a  moimtain  pass  of  the  wildest 
character,  over  which  it  is  difficult  to  believe  that  there  ever  was  a 
road  practicable  for  carriages  of  any  description,  though  we  are  told 
by  Homer  that  Telemaclms  and  his  friend  Pisistratus  drove  their 
chariot  in  a  day  from  Pheras,  on  tlie  same  site  as  the  modern  Kala- 
mata, to  the  palace  of  Menelaus  at  Sparta.  We  doubt  very  much 
whether  the  same  journey  has  ever  been  performed  since  that  time. 
At  the  present  day,  not  only  is  the  route  practicable  for  mules  only, 
but  it  taxes  the  powers  of  even  the  most  active  and  sure-footed  mules 
to  the  utmost ;  and  Sir  Thomas  Wyse  and  the  ladies  by  whom  he  was 
accompanied  were  constantly  compelled  to  dismount,  and  to  walk 
over  passages  which  they  thought  even  mules  could  not  surmount. 

There  is  indeed  another  pass  over  the  chain  of  Taygetus,  lower  and 
somewhat  easier,  which  was  that  crossed  by  Mr.  Clark  and  Professor 
Thompson,  in  consequence  of  the  higher  summits  being  still  (near  the 
end  of  April)  too  much  encumbered  with  snow ;  but  even  this  pre- 
sents difficulties  of  no  ordinary  kind.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that 
tlie  habitual  intercourse  between  Sparta  and  Messenia  must  always 
have  been  carried  on  by  the  circuiteus  route  ascending  the  valley  of 


6o 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


the  Etirotfts,  and  turning  the  fl&Qk  of  the  lofty  ridges  of  Taygetus,  liy 
the  pass  of  Makriplngi,  neftr  the  modem  towu  of  Leondari.  Tlie 
moiijitfiin  bairier  of  Tnygetnu,  ptTolonged  as  it  is  to  the  sooth  ia  ono 
imhroken  range,  till  it  ends  in  Cape  Matapan,  Diust  always  bave 
formed  a  natural  boundaiy  between  Laconia  and  ITessenia  not  less 
marked  and  scarcely  less  formidable  than  that  of  the  Pyrenees  Ije- 
tween  France  and  Spain;  and  the  cu-cuinatanee  meutioned  by  Pausa- 
nias,  that  wild  goats  were  in  his  day  still  found  in  numbers  upon  the 
higher  eimimita.  prnves — -if  any  proof  were  wanted  to  those  who  have 
gazed  upon  their  ja^'ged  and  precipitous  peaks — that  tiiese  were  then 
as  wild  and  inaccessible  as  they  are  now, 

IJut  we  know  that  this  barrier  was  passed^  and  that  at  an  early 
}>eriod  iu  the  history  of  Spiirt,i,  Tiie  tmveller  who  deacends  into  the 
ricli  plains  of  Messenia  will  cease  to  wonder  at  this.  Imperfectly 
cultivated  as  it  now  is,  it  is  impossible  not  to  be  struck  with  the 
marvellons  fertility  of  tliis  niai^iificent  plain;  and  the  portion  of  it 
adjoining  Kalflmata,  the  only  one  where  the  cuJtivntion  is  at  present 
cBri-ied  on  with  any  reasociable  care,  gives  unflicient  evidence  of  the 
reault.  After  leaving  Knlarnnta,  says  Sir  T.  Wyse,  "  the  first  part  of 
our  way  run  Iwtween  those  high  hedges  of  Indian  fig  or  cactus  for 
which  Messenia  is  famon-s;  then  through  open  ur  well-he<.lg9d  olive 
an<i  mulberry  plantations,  broken  now  and  again  by  vines,  pouie- 
grauates,  and  oranges,  and  divemified  by  nllages.  The  culture  all 
along  this  line — the  flat  land  formed  by  the  waters  of  the  I'amisus 
and  other  streams — was  in  acconl  with  the  extreme  riclineas  of  the 
aoiL  Ko  one  coiild  have  imagine^l  that  the  hoof  of  the  horse  of  Attila 
had  been  there,  or  that  the  Llistrict  had  so  lately  emerged  from  a  war, 
not  of  devastation  only,  but  of  extermination."  Tliis  careful  cultiva- 
tion gradually  disappeared  as  they  advanced  farther  into  the  plain, 
though  the  country  continned  of  much  the  sfttne  dfescrijition :  hut, 
taken  as  a  whgle,  Messenia  is  at  the  present  day  one  of  the  moat  flour- 
ishing distiicts  of  Greece.  The  exports  of  KakmatHft,  wliich_ serves  as 
the  port  of  the  whole  district,  and  must  probably  continue  to  do  so, 
notwithstanding  many  disadvantages,  have  been  increasing  for  some 
time  past,  and  the  town  itself  presents  signs  of  progress  wlioUy  unlike 
anything  to  he  seen  at  Gythiiun.  or  ISronenivasin,  though  the  tihl 
streets,  clambering  up  the  sides  of  a  steep,  rocky  hill,  are  still  ,"inex- 
presaihly  trookt^d,  cramped,  and  filtliy,"  and  the  bazaar  "exhibiteil 
the  usual  dislocated,  ragged,  unpainted,  provisional  look  obstuiately 
retained  by  all  Greek  a,?  well  as  Turkish  bazaars."  The  a|^-icultnre  of 
the  ]jlain  lias  also  visibly  improved;  greater  ciire  is  tal^eu,  though 
scarcely  any  new  processes  are  introduced,  and  thungli  "  no  solicitude 
has  been  shown  by  any  of  the  successive  ministers  to  eucovimge  pi-o- 
gress  in  this  tlirection."     The  tiuprovenient  that  has  taken  pluce  is 


Modern  Greece.  0i 

owing  almost  entirely,  in  Sir  T.  Wyse's  opinion,  to  the  spontaneous 
efforts  of  the  population ;  and  he  speaks  iu  high  terms  of  the  industry 
and  frugality  of  the  Messenian  peasantry.  Meantime,  the  govern- 
ment authorities,  whether  central  or  local,  do  little  more  than  thiow 
obstacles  in  the  way  of  all  attempts  at  progress. 

The  first  and  moat  glaring  d^ect,  here  as  everywhere  else  in  Greece, 
is  the  want  of  roads  to  carry  the  agricultural  produce  to  market,  or 
to  the  neighbouring  seaport.  And  in  Messenia  at  least  there  ia  not 
the  excuse  that  may  undoubtedly  be  uiged  in  many  parts  of  the 
country,  of  the  great  natural  difficulties  that  stand  in  the  way.  A 
road  over  Taygetus,  as  Mr.  Clark  observes,  "  would  be  a  work  that 
might  chaUei^e  comparison  with  that  over  the  Simplon;"  and  the 
mountain  passes  that  connect  Sparta  with  Arcadia  are  long,  rugged, 
and  difficult :  but  there  would  be  no  difficulty  worth  speaking  of  in 
making  roads  to  connect  every  part  of  Messenia  with  the,  sea  either  at 
Kalamata  or  Navarino.  Even  through  the  plain  itself  there  are 
nothing  but  "natural  roads,"  which  are  tolerable  in  summer,  but 
all  but  impassable  in  winter  or  bad  weather.  Nor  is  it  an  uncommon 
thing  in  any  part  of  Greece,  when  a  road  has  been  laid  out,  that  ia  to 
say,  its  course  marked  out  through  the  plain,  cleared  of  obstructions, 
and  levelled, — "  metalling"  is  a  subsequent  process  that  may  be  indefi- 
nitely postponed, — for  the  nearest  proprietor  to  carry  a  drain  directly 
across  it,  or  divert  the  course  of  the  next  torrent  from  his  own  land 
on  to  the  public  highway.  There  is  little  harm  done,  he  may  not 
unreasonably  argue ;  for  the  torrent  would  soon  find  its  own  way,  if 
he  did  not  conduct  it  there.  There  is  no  one  to  prevent,  no  one  to 
repair  the  mischief;  and  the  traveller  is  left  to  find  his  way  out  of  the 
difficulty  as  best  he  can.  In  one  instance,  on  their  way  to  the  temple 
at  -Bassie,  Sir  T.  Wyse  found  the  road  (a  mere  horse-track)  which  had 
been  in  existence  the  year  before,  quietly  ploughed  up,  and  fenced 
across  by  the  occupiers  of  the  neighbouring  lands. 

In  the  midst  of  the  Messenian  plain,  towering  over  the  neighbour- 
ing heights,  and  commanding  the  whole  district  like  a  national  citadel, 
rises  the  mountain  fortress  of  Ithome,  which  has  been  not  unaptly 
compared  to  an  inland  Gibraltar.  It  is,  indeed,  aa  Sir  T.  Wyse 
remarks,  "  as  prominent  in  the  scenery  as  in  the  history  of  this  re- 
markable plain."  The  whole  history  of  the  first  Messenian  war  is 
seen  at  a  glance  when  the  traveller  beholds  this  grand  natural  strong- 
hold, which  presents  itself  with  an  equally  imposing  character 
whether  approached  from  Kalamata  and  the  foot  of  Taygetus,  or  seen 
from  the  mountains  on  the  borders  of  Arcadia.  There  is  much  about 
it  that  reminds  one  of  the  Acrocorinthus,  but  its  more  isolated  posi- 
tion, as  well  as  its  greater  actual  elevation,  give  it  a  still  grander 
aspect.     It  is  needless  to  remark  that  the  view  from  its  summit  com- 


62 


The  Cotttemporaiy  Review. 


mands  one  of  the  noHest  prospects  in  Greece.  A  little  ■way  below  it, 
on  the  shoulder  of  the  mountain,  is  situated  tiie  convent  of  Moiit* 
Vurltano,  picturesquely  associated  with  a  grove  of  cypresses,  in  a 
manner  much  leas  common  in  Greece  thtin  in  Italy.  The  convent 
affords,  at  the  present  day,  comfortable  quartars  to  the  traveller,  an  ad- 
vantage for  wliich  he  ia,  iu  great  meogure,  indebted  to  the  exeTtiona  of 
Sir  Thomas  Wyse,  who  was  so  struck  with  the  ■wretchal  accommotla^ 
tion  for  the  monks  and  the  dilapidated  condition  of  the  huildin^,  at 
the  time  when  he  visited  the  convent,  that,  on  hia  return  to  Athena, 
he  made  representations  on  the  suliject  to  the  Greek  miniati-y,  which 
led  to  the  outlay  of  a  cousiderahle  sum  iu  additions  and  improve- 
ments. Nor  was  tliia  aU.  "Sir  Thomas  Wyse  himself  frequently 
witnessed  the  good  effect  of  the  particular  auggeatiou  he  had  thus 
qnietly  urged,  and  often  profit-etl  by  it  afterwards.  Kotliing  official 
reached  hira;  but  travelling  in  other  directions  the  ensuing  year,  he 
always  found  one  or  two  rooms  in  each  convent  freshly  painted  and 
brushed  up  for  travellers,  '  according  to  a  general  order  from  Athens,' 
as  the  monks  invariably  stated,  though  apparently  ignorant  ot  ita 
origin." 

In  proceeding  northwards  towards  the  celebrated  temple  of  Phiga- 
leia.  Sir  T.  Wyse  turned  aside  to  visit  the  site  of  a  ruined  city  in  tho 
midst  of  the  wild  forest-clad  mountains  on  the  south  bank  of  the 

Neda,  which  he  identifies  as  that  of  iLira,  the  celebrated  stronghold  of 
the  Messeniang.  which  played  as  important  a  pait  iu  the  second  Mes- 
senian  wnr  as  Ithoiue  did  in  the  first.  Unfortunately,  In  this  case 
the  locality  is  by  no  means  equaDy  well  characterized,  and  the  attri- 
bution of  the  site  in  question  is  far  from  certain.  Sir  Thomas  Wyse 
argues  warmly  in  favour  of  its  identification  with  the  famous  city,  the 
stronghold  of  Arlstomenes ;  a  couclnsion  for  wldch,  be  admits,  "  the 
imagination  pleads  not  less  warmly."  "A  more  fitting  scene,"  lie 
adds,  "  conld  not  be  de\'ised  for  the  enactment  of  that  final  drama." 
But  we  Tiiust  remember  that  the  history,  as  we  posscas  it,  is  esscu- 
liidly  poetical.  Aristomenes,  the  hero  of  the  war,  may  not  unaptly  he 
compared  with  the  Cid  as  he  appears  in  the  traditionary  history  of 
Spain,  It  would  he  as  unreasonable  a  stretch  of  scepticism  to  doubt 
the  personal  existence  of  the  one  as  of  the  otfier,  or  that  he  actually 
bore  a  prominent  and  leading  part-  in  t!ie  aventa  of  the  war ;  but  we 
can  as  little,  accept  aa  historical  the  dramatic  detada  of  the  contest 
preserved  to  us  by  I'ansauias  from  the  poetical  epic  of  Ehianus,  as  we 
can  receive  the  exploits  of  the  "  Campeador  de  Bivar"  from  the  anony- 
mous author  of  that  noblest  of  all  ballad-s,  the  "  Toenia  del  Cid."  On 
the  other  hand  it  appears  that  the  site  of  Eira  was  alieady  a  subjec^t 
<jf  dispute  in  the  tune  of  Strabo  :*  no  mention  of  it  is  found  durmg 
*  strabo,  lib.  Tiii.,  p,  360. 


Modern  Greece.  63 

the  historical  period  of  Greece ;  and  Fausanias  himself,  in  whose  pages 
it  plays  so  important  a  part,  makes  no  mention  of  the  city  or  its  ruins 
as  existing  in  his  time.  Under  these  circumstances  it  may  well  he 
doubted  whether  any  ceiiainty  can  ever  be  attained  upon  the  subject. 
But  Sir  T.  Wyse  has  done  good  service  by  examining  and  describing 
the  remains,  which  are  little  known,  and  have  been  rarely  visited. 

The  coimtry  north  of  the  valley  of  the  Neda  presents  some  of  the 
moat  beautiful  scenery  in  Greece,  and  it  is  here,  at  a  height  of  3,800 
feet  above  the  sea,  surrounded  by  a  scattered  forest  of  oak  trees,  that 
stands  the  beautiful  temple  of  Bassse.  It  is  a  piece  of  singular  good 
fortune  that  has  preserved  to  us,  out  of  the  many  hundred  temples 
that  adorned  the  ancient  Peloponnese,  that  one,  which  Pausanias,  who 
saw  them  all  in  their  entirety,  designates  as  surpassing  all  others, 
eicept  that  of  Athena  Alea  at  Tegea,  in  the  beauty  of  material  and 
the  perfection  of  its  workmanship.  Its  remarkable  preservation  is 
doubtless  owing  to  its  secluded  and  lofty  situation.  Sir  Thomas 
Wyse's  remarks  on  the  sculptures  that  adorned  the  Meze  of  the 
temple — now  in  the  British  Museum — are  well  worthy  of  attention ; 
hut  we  cannot  find  place  for  them  here,  and  must  hasten  to  follow 
him  down  the  valley  of  the  Alpheus  towards  the  site  of  the  far-famed 
Olympia.  The  whole  of  this  route  hes  through  a  beautiful  country, 
in  which  the  traveller  is  perpetually  meeting  with  scenes  of  a  truly 
Arcadian  character.  It  is  a  very  common  remark  with  tourists  who 
have  visited  only  Athens,  and  perhaps  one  or  two  other  points  on  the 
eastern  coast  of  the  Morea,  that  "there  are  no  trees  in  Greece;"  and 
those  who  have  seen  only  Tripolitza,  and  the  upland  plains  that  sur- 
roimd  it,  remark,  naturally  enough,  ou  the  entire  dissimilarity  of  this 
portion  of  Arcadia  from  all  that  we  are  accustomed  to  associate  with 
the  name.  But  the  whole  of  Western  Arcadia  and  the  adjoining  dis- 
trict of  Tripliylia  abounds  in  woodland  scenery  of  the  most  charming 
description.  Already,  in  descending  from  the  temple  at  Bassae,  Sir  T. 
Wyse  and  his  party  came  upon  a  scene  that  he  describes  as  "the  ideal 
of  an  Arcadian  landscape :" — 

"A  series  of  gentle  eminences,  sweeping  into  soft  secluded  valleys, 
wooded  in  the  richest  manner,  with  every  variety  of  southern  shrub- — 
arbutus,  lentisk,  agnus  castus,  bay,  and  myrtle, — timbered  with  luxuriant 
masses  of  oak  and  plane,  and  now  and  then  broken  by  dark-green  clumpe  of 
fir  and  pine,  fine  pasturage  intermingling  below,  the  grand  framework  of  the 
great  Peloponnesian  ranges  around  and  above  :  these  formed  the  elements,  of 
which  every  step  presented  a  new  variety.  The  red  soil,  recalling  the  fertile 
recesses  of  South  Devon,  and  the  close-foliaged  pathways,  reveUing  in  all 
their  freshness,  from  the  rain,  and  exhaling  their  scented  odours  as  we 
brushed  through  them,  completed  this  inland  woodland  picture." — (P.  41.) 

A  little  farther  on  he  remarks,  "  All  this  portion  of  Arcadia 
possesses  a  character  midway  between  the  dell,  glade,  and  woody 


64 


Tfte  Contemporary  Review. 


upland  of  early  ft^ociations,  ttud  the  rough,  bleak  Scotch  mouutain 
districts  o£  the  interior — the  familiflJ  type  of  Arcadia  with  the 
ancients."  Equally  attractiTe  is  the  "park-like"  character  of  the 
sceuery  in  tlie  neighboui-hooJ  of  Olympia  itself; — 

"  The  Alpiicus  to  our  left  formed  the  mam  charactcriiStie,  whilst  on  either 
Bitle  ;Bt.retch*d  an  RTt>Tiy  tkicltly  woodeJ  alliiviiil  jilain,  shiit  in  by  a  r»tige  nf 
mountains,  sol'tt^niiig  in  hillocks  down  to  the  jilain.  Tlie  whole  extwiit  Liy 
cove]"<3d,  sometiiiie.-i  thickly,  sometimes  scantily,  with  interchanging  brush- 
wolmI,  shrub,  and  timhiT.  At  every  step  the  landscape  hecomcsi  mor?  mild 
and  i-hoprfnl  Tht-  Alpheus,  despite  the  accession  of  thr?  Ladon  a-nd  En.Tii«ii- 
thus,  sprcwifi  itsplf  out,  unconscious;  of  its  irapoTtance,  with  ft  laay  trun- 
quiliity,  as  though  unwiiiinj;  too  soon  to  leave  tbe  delightfid  regiou,  or 
desirous  to  preserve  a  dignited  sohriety  in  the  ueighhourhood  of  Zeus 
^itkly^mt.  It  is  nuarly  180  fatt  broiid,  hut  hardly  tver  more  tliau  five 
feet  deep.  Its  many  meanderings,  now  lowering,  now  raising  its  Lanlis  to 
the  perpi'ndicultir,  leave  large  patches  of  white  sand,  which  ^dually  grow 
into  staid  ieknds.  The  small  eminences  over  which  wt-  pjtased,  developed 
hy  depices  into  lulls,  covered  with  a  vigorous  growth  of  all  kimlfl  of  treea 
and  shnihs — pliuie,  oak,  arbutus,  aad  rhodudeiidion,  with  an  riccaaionaJ 
broad  out-spreading  vjilonoa.  Pushing  broolis  faurrierl  across  (lur  path  on 
their  way  to  the  Alpheus,  interseaitied  with  red  tallowB  or  quiet  slopes 
of  meadow-land.  A  noble  park  it  was  on  the  gnmdeat  scale,  hut  without 
the  trac«  of  a  proprietor.  Mo  i-ilhigt;  La  seen,  aud  very  rarely  even  a  single 
house.  No  boundary,  nor  sign  of  puasesaiou,  is  viaible.  The  B(fil,  of  tha 
richest  iiuality,  looks  half-worked,  and  as  if  doubtful  whether  tlie  cultivation 
will  ever  l>a  completed." — (P.  82.) 

Sir  Tliomas  Wyse  has  enlarged  at  consldemble,  ijideetl  at  some- 
what needless  length  upou  the  questions  connectetl  with  the  ancient 
topography  of  Olyrapia,  as  w'ell  as  that  of  Sparta,  though  in  both 
cases  the  scantinesa  of  existing  rt^iuains,  and  the  imperfectly  marked 
character  of  the  locolities^  rendei's  it  impossible  to  arrive  at  any  satis- 
factory conclusion.  The  only  point  that  we  can  be  said  to  know 
with  certainty  in  the  case  of  Olyinpia— the  position  of  the  celebratfid 
temple  of  Zeua — was  determined  by  the  excavations  of  tJie  French 
Commission,  and  it  ia  to  the  same  process  alone  that  we  caii  look  for 
any  liuiher  discoveries.  Jleanwhile  it  is  a  mere  waste  of  time  to 
tliacuas  the  localititia  as  described  by  Pausanias,  or  to  speculate  on  the 
site  of  biuldiiigs  of  wbieh  the  very  foundatious  are  buried  under  tlie 
aJluvial  soil,  or  have  been  swept  away  by  the  floods  of  the  Alpheus. 

Between  Olympia  and  the  convent  of  Megas-pilion,  the  traveller 
passes  through  one  of  the  wildest  districts  of  Greece ;  at  firat  through 
the  extensive  forests  that  clothe  the  flanks  of  Mount  Pholoti  and 
Erymanthus,  then  over  a  rugged  mountain  tract,  by  a  road  almost  as 
bfid  as  that  over  Taygetua,  descending  wpon  the  town  of  KalavTj'ta, 
situated  in  a  drearj'  upland  valley,  which,  notwithstanding  its  eleva- 
tion, is  marshy  and  imhealtliy. 

The  ancient  town  of  Cynastba,  which  occupied  the  same  valley,  was 


Modern  Greece.  65 

noted,  according  to  Polyliius,*  for  the  rudeness  and  barbarism  of  its 
inhabitants, — a  circumstance  which  he  attributes  to  the  defects  of 
their  education  in  not  learning  music  and  geometry  (!) : — a  modem 
traveller  would  be  more  apt  to  ascribe  it  to  the  secluded  position  of 
the  valley,  and  the  wild  and  rugged  character  of  the  surrounding 
country.  Still  higher  up  among  the  mountains  is  the  celebrated 
waterfall  of  the  Styx,  which  Sir  T.  Wyse  unfortunately  did  not  visit, 
being  deterred  not  merely  by  the  difficulties  of  the  road,  but  by  the 
assurance  that  the  Styx  at  that  season  contained  but  little  water. 
We  have  thus  lost  the  description  by  his  graphic  pen  of  one  of  the 
most  striking  scenes  in  Greece.  The  waterfall  in  itself  is  undoubtedly 
very  trifling — a  mere  thread  of  water ;  but  the  surrounding  scenery  ia 
of  the  grandest  and  wildest  description ;  the  precipices,  as  remarked 
by  Pau3ama8,-f-  are  the  most  lofty  he  ever  saw, — ^indeed,  one  must  go  to 
the  Alps  or  the  Pyrenees  to  find  anything  to  equal  them ;  and  there 
is  altogether  a  "weird"  and  gloomy  character  about  the  whole  scene 
that  seems  to  explain  why  this  little  falling  thread  of  black  water — 
the  Mavronero,  as  it  is  called  at  the  present  day — was  identified  by 
the  Greeks  of  ancient  times  with  the  "down-dropping  water  of  Styx" 
that  was  mentioned  by  Homer  as  the  dread  oath  of  the  gods.  It 
seems,  observes  Pausanias,  as  if  Homer  had  himself  seen  the  water 
of  Styx  dripping  down  from  the  lofty  precipice. 

His  visit  to  tlie  celebrated  convent  of  Megaspilion  left  as  unfavour- 
able an  impression  upon  Sir  Thomaa  Wyse  as  it  has  done  upon  most 
other  travellers.  Indeed,  the  monastic  institutions  throughout  Greece 
Me  in  a  state  of  the  lowest  degradation ;  they  are  wholly  devoid  of 
that  love  of  art  and  love  of  letters  which  once  cast  a  halo  of  light 
around  the  monasteries  of  Western  Europe ;  while,  so  far  as  external 
appearances  can  be  trusted,  they  are  almost  equally  destitute  of  any 
deep  feeling  of  religious  devotion.  The  monks,  as  well  as  the  secular 
clei^  and  bishops,  took  a  prominent  part  in  the  war  of  independence, 
and  have  thereby  earned  a  permanent  debt  of  gratitude  from  the 
Greek  people.  But  the  number  of  monastic  institutions  still  subsisting 
in  the  country  is  a  grievous  burden  upon  the  resources  of  the  infant 
kingdom.  Tliere  are  at  present — or  were  in  the  year  that  Sir  Thomas 
Wyse  travelled — no  less  than  a  hundred  and  fifty-two  convents  in 
Greece,  of  which  one  hundred  and  forty-eight  are  of  men,  and  only 
four  of  women.  Even  tliis  is  an  immense  reduction ;  at  the  close  of 
the  revolutionary  war  the  new  Government  found  a  population  of 
about  600,000  souls,  with  forty-eight  bishops  and  five  hundred  and 
ninety-three  monasteries !  Fortunately,  many  of  the  latter  were 
tenanted  only  by  a  single  monk,  or  were  in  a  state  of  ruinous  decay, 
so  that  their  suppression  offered  little  difficulty.  But  the  efforts  of 
•  Polyt).,  lib.  iv.,  c.  20.  t  Pau«an.,  lib.  viii.,  c.  17,  68. 

VOL.  I.  P 


66 


The  Contemporary  Reuiew. 


the  State  to  introduce  any  reforms  iitto  the  existing  monasteries  have 
been  hitherto  ineffeiitual ;  and  so  long  aa  the  bishops  coutiuue  to  !>&'] 
taken,  as  is  the  nile  of  the   Greek  Churcli,  exclusively  from   the 
intinastic  orders,  tltere  does  not  ajipeaT  auy  prospect  of  improvement. 

The  ignorance,  as  well  as  the  indolence,  of  the  Greek  monastic  ■ 
orders  prevents  them  from  taking  any  active  part  in  the  cJtication  of 
the  people.     But  in  this  res[>ect,  foitunately,  their  interference  ia  not 
required.    The  educational  institutions  of  Greece  axe  far  ahead  of 
its  progress  in  any  other  respect.     An  extensive  system  of  eduea-^ 
tion  was  organized  hy  the  liaviiriau  Government,  under  tlie  superin-W 
tfindence  of  the  StatCj  and  has  l)een  carried  nut  with  zeal  and  eneivy 
by  the  ])eopIei  themselves.     Every  village  h;»s  its  school,  often   the 
must  conspicuous  huildiiig  in  the  place;  and  eveiy  place  that  calls 
itself  a  tOTATi  has,  in  addition  to  these  primary  or  "  Demotic  "  school^  ■ 
one  uf  a  higher  chiaa,  culled  an  "  Hellenic  "  school,  the  master  of  wliieh 
hiia  in  most  instauoes  been  trained  in  the  seminary  for  teachers  at 
Athens.     A\Tjerever  Sir   Thomas   "Wyse  went,   he  made  a  point  of 
visiting  the  schools,  and  the  i-eault  w*a8  generally  satisfactory.     The 
Greek  cliildren  show   a  quickness  of  apprehension  and   focibty  ia 
learning  worthy  of  the  Athenians  of  old,  and  their  teachers  appears 
to  correspond  to  them  in  activity.     Government  inspection  is  want- 
ing; hut  there   is  an  inherent  vitality  in   the  whole  thing,  which 
cannot  fail  of  attaining'  its  main  end,  wliatever  deficiencies  and 
shortcomings  there   may  Ihj  for  a  while.    The  principal  defect  in 
the  higher  schools  is  fuimd  in  regard  to  physical  science,  for  which 
the  modem  Greeks  evcr>'^wharo  display  a  want  of  aptitude  that  con- 
trasts aingidarly  with  their  qiuckness  and  cleverness  in  other  de- 
partments of  study. 

It  is  impossible  for  us  to  follow  Sir  T.  Wyse  in  detail  throiigh  th« 
remainder  of  his  tour.     At  Vostitza^  on  the  Corinthian  Gidf,  he  fount 
a  striking  instance  of  prosperity  and  activity,  giving  token  of  increas-j 
iug  wealth  and  increasing  industry.    Tliis  prosperity,  which  estenda] 
to  Patras  and  to  the  intcrmediute  country,  arises   from  the   rapid'l 
development  of  the  cnlture  of  the  currant  vine,  the  production 
which  was  at  one  time  confined  abnost  entirely  to  the  Ionian  Islanc 
but  has  of  late  years  been  largely  extended  on  the  mainland  also,     Oi 
the  other  hand,  Corinth  pi'esented  a  painful  contrast  to  thisllourisliinj 
piutua'e.      The   far-famed   fortress   of  the   Acrocorinthus,   wliieh,   ii 
Turkish    and  Venetian  times,   sheltered   a   considerable  populatioi 
within  its  unassailable  walls,  is  now  desolate,  and  contains  not 
but  a  heap  of  ruins,  gUiH-ded  by  half  a  dozen  decrepit  veterans;  the 
so-called  town  of  Corinth  at  its  foot,  which  occupies  the  ancient  site 
is  in  a  state  of  utter  dilapidation  and  decay,  having  snfleted  so  severeli 
from  an  earthquake,  or  rather  succession  of  earthquakes,  in  the  spt 


Modern  Greece.  67 

of  1858,  that  it  was  not  deemed  worth  while  to  attempt  its  restora- 
tion. The  inhabitants,  for  the  most  part,  have  removed  to  a  spot  close 
to  the  sea-shore,  on  the  western  side  of  the  Isthmus,  where  a  new 
town  has  grown  up  since  the  period  of  Sir  T.  Wyse's  visit,  which  has 
become  the  recognised  head  of  the  district.  New  Corinth  is  now  the 
residence  of  the  Government  officials,  and  contains,  it  is  said,  three 
or  four  hundred  good  houses.  The  constant  passage  of  the  steamers, 
and  the  transfer  of  their  passengers  by  this  "overland  route,"  give  it 
some  degree  of  activity;  and  it  is  not  impossible  that  it  may  be 
destined  to  a  future  career  of  prosperity.  But  its  present  aspect  is 
far  from  encouraging. 

We  cannot  take  leave  of  Sir  Thomas  Wyse's  agreeable  and  instruc- 
tive volumes  without  expressing  a  hope  that  their  publication  may 
once  more  direct  the  attention  of  British  travellers  to  the  beautiful 
shores  of  Greece.  As  the  facilities  of  travelling  by  steamboat  and 
railroad  increase,  there  is  found  also  an  increasing  number  of  tourists 
who  are  desirous  to  emancipate  themselves  from  those  prosaic  and 
unsatisfactory  modes  of  conveyance — who  long  for  the  fresh  air  of  the 
mountain,  and  the  feeling  of  independence  which  belongs  to  the 
traveller  on  foot  or  on  horseback,  and  who  are  desirous  to  see  a  people, 
as  well  as  a  country,  more  unsophisticated  than  those  to  be  found  on 
the  Rhine  or  in  the  Oberland  To  all  such  we  are  confident  that  a 
tour  in  Greece  would  be  found  productive  of  the  highest  enjoyment ; 
and  that  they  would  return  to  Athens  with  the  same  satisfaction 
which  is  expressed  by  Sir  Thomas  Wyse  at  the  close  of  "  one  of  the 
most  interesting,  and,  despite  all  its  difficulties,  one  of  the  most  enjoy- 
able tours  that  it  is  possible  to  conceive." 

E.   H.    BUNBUBV. 


ANCILLA    DOMINI:    THOUGHTS    ON 
CHRISTIAN    ART. 


I. — NEARLY    REALISM. 

IT  is  not  easy  to  begin  an  essay  about  Art  witliout  a  few  tentative 
definitions.  And  it  seems  right  enough  for  any  author  to  give 
them  at  the  beginning  of  his  work,  if  he  either  argues  up  to  them  and 
proves  them  as  he  goes  on,  or  fairly  says  that  lie  begins  by  assum- 
ing their  truth.  Giving  a  formal  definition  at  first  amounts  to 
saying  that  he  will  prove  it  in  the  end :  and  many  men  seem  quite 
unconsciously  to  beg  all  the  questions  of  their  work  in  their  first 
chapter ;  laying  down  principles  to  ai^ie  from  which  it  is  the  pur- 
pose of  their  treatise  to  argue  up  to.  It  is  sadly  easy  in  matters  of 
art  to  reason  in  a  circle  of  subjective  impressions — from  one's  own 
feelings  to  one's  own  feelings ;  and  it  will,  perhaps,  be  best  to  say 
here  that  we  are  speaking  as  much  as  possible  from  a  painter's  point 
of  view ;  and  that  our  feeling  about  painting  may,  for  our  immediate 
convenience,  be  called  that  of  the  English  Realist  or  Naturalist  School* 
The  somewhat  fanciful  title  of  this  paper  expresses  our  idea  of  the 
office  of  Christian  Art.  In  using  the  word  "school"  we  mean  only 
that  there  are  now  among  us  many  painters  of  greater  or  less  power, 
who  mutually  affect  each  others'  minds  and  works,  and  as  it  were 
exchange  impressions.  We  ought  also  to  say  what  meaning  we 
attach  to  the  other  terms  already  used. 

*  The  term  "  school "  properly  implies  a  number  of  men  working  together  for  the  sake  of 
exdmnging  and  accumulating  secrets  of  techoical  skill. 


Thoughts  on  Christian  Art.  6g 

By  Art  we  mean  the  production  of  ideas  of  truth  (actual  truth  or 
imaginative)  in  a  form  which  is  both  beautiful  to  the  eye  and  eleva- 
ting to  the  soul.  We  cannot  define  the  term  "  beauty  : "  but  we  can 
say  that  any  picture  which  su^ests  to  a  man  higher,  better,  deeper 
(or  clearer?)  thoughts  than  he  had  before,  ox  could  have  obtained 
mthout  it,  is  a  work  of  true  Art. 

The  question  follows,  what  is  Christian  or  Religious  Art  ?  And  in 
answering  it,  it  will  be  convenient  to  take  the  old  technical,  meaning 
of  the  word  "  religious,"  and  to  mention  a  distinction  which  we  think 
will  be  foimd  to  hold  throughout.  Christian  Art  seems  to  be  definable 
as  "  art  produced  by  Christian  men,  who  work  with  a  purpose 
worthy  of  their  faith."  Religious  Art,  strictly  speaking,  will  take 
in  a  narrower  field  of  subject,  and  be  impressed  with  a  rel^ous,  or 
conventual,  or  ascetic  character,  dealing  almost  exclusively  with 
"  religious  "  subject,  scriptural  or  traditional.  The  names  of  Holman 
Hunt,  Madox  Brown,  and  Millais,  are  those  of  representatives  of  the 
Christian  art  of  our  time  and  coimtry.  Mr.  Herbert  is,  perhaps,  our 
leading  painter  of  religious  subject.  All  that  we  imply,  in  asserting 
this  distinction,  is  that  Christian  art  is  not  contained  within  the  same 
limits  as  religious  art,  but  that  great  hberty  in  choice  of  subject  is 
to  be  allowed  to  the  believing  painter,  and  that  he  is  to  be  looked 
upon  as  a  Christian  man,  using  a  powerful  means  of  instruction  for 
the  benefit  of  hia  fellow-Christians,  and  not  as  a  mere  purveyor  of 
amusement  or  sentiment.  No  doubt,  many  pictures  are  no  better  than 
sensation  novels :  but  there  are  some  which  tell  truths  and  suggest 
thoughts  which  scientific  treatises  may  faQ  to  convey. 

We  shall  call  attention  not  only  to  tlie  well-known  fact,  that  pic- 
torial teaching  was  used  in  Christian  churches  from  the  earliest  times  ; 
but  that  in  those  earliest  times  there  was  great  liberty  of  teaching  by 
pictures  :  in  fact,  that  the  Christian  painter  of  the  time,  unskilful  as 
Ills  hand  may  have  been,  was  encouraged  to  work  in  the  catholic 
spirit  of  the  true  artist.  He  might  paint  all  he  could,  of  all  he  saw — 
with  the  eye  of  mind  or  body.  The  art  of  the  Catacombs  stands  before 
the  art  of  the  convents,  in  time  at  least.  We  are  fortunate  in  having 
such  works  as  that  of  M.  Raoul  Rochette,  and  Monsignore  Rossi,  to 
iissure  us  of  its  universality  and  freedom  in  choice  of  subject.  It  is 
C3  if  the  faith  of  workman  and  spectator  made  all  subjects  sacred  :  in 
those  days  all  things  might  be  painted  in  the  name  of  Christ,  and  for 
the  instruction  of  man.  And  if  it  can  be  shown  that  this  is  the  prin- 
ciple of  the  earliest  art,  and  that  modern  Realist  Art  coincides  with 
it  in  frank  and  wide  choice  of  subject,  in  play  of  fancy  and  in  other 
vital  points ;  then  we  can  connect  our  Realists  with  their  earliest 
predecessors,  and  show  not  only  that  there  is  a  Sacred  Art,  but  that 
all  true  and  hish  art  has  been  in  a  measure  held  sacred  from  the 


70  The  ConUmporary  Review. 

first,  Thia  distinction  between  Religious  or  Conventual  Art,  with  its 
lijiiited  range  of  subjecti  and  Cliiistiau  Art  iu  general,  may  lead  us 
to  an  explanation  of  what  we  understand  by  the  term  Kealist  or 
Natumlist,  As  applied  to  paintings  or  scidfiture,  theae  words  mean 
the  same  thing,  and  arti  opposed  to  the  words  PurLst  or  Idealiat.* 

Almost  all  men  of  biyh  or  worttiy  purpose  in  aii  seem  to  be  so 
giiided  by  charaetec  and  circiunstance,  as  to  fall  into  one  or  the  ot!ier 
of  these  .classes.  Of  men  of  low  or  impure  purpose,  even,  of  those 
whose  nobler  powers  wei-e  thwarted  by  teuiptiitiou  or  baser  instinct, 
nothing  need  be  said  now.  That  wuulii  be  a  long  treatise,  and  nut  a 
very  edifying  one,  "wluch  should  give  a  full  idea  of  their  glory  and 
tlieir  shame.  But  setting  aside  all  the  Sensualists,  higher  or  Inwer — 
veiliui,^  the  image  of  liulHitis,  and  if  It  must  be  so,  those  of  Titian  and 
CoiTe^io  as  well,  there  still  remain  two  classes  of  men  who  have 
painted  with  high  and  pure  purpose,  and  have  hoped  and  felt  that 
they  also  iu  their  work  were  Christian  teachers  of  Cliristiau  men. 
These  hnve  either  confined  themselves  to  religious  subject,  rejecting 
secular  subject  for  its  coai-aenesa  or  painfidneaa — in  wldch  case  we 
call  tlnem  Itoligious,  CoGveutual,  or  Purist  painters;  or  they  havti 
made  no  snch  rejection,  and  so  fall  under  the  names  of  Healist  or 
Xatiualist.  The  repr&'iCQtative  man,  perhaps  to  all  time,  of  the  first 
class,  is  Fra  Angelieo  of  Fiesole:  the  second  is  headed  by  Tintoret 
and  Michael  Angelo.  They,  or  theii-  like,  wdl  often  give  thetr  utmost 
strength  to  detinitely  "religious"  aubjeet.  But  it  is  in  their  nature, 
and  iu  all  men's  who  are  touched  with  the  SJiuiii  spirit,  to  be  essen- 
tially men  of  their  own  generation,  sharing  in  its  aspirations,  and 
struggles,  and  diffitinlties.  And  so  in  our  own  time  our  strongest 
painters  seem  tn  feel  that  tliey  must  needs  take  their  full  part  with 
the  eager,  pensive,  dubious,  and  neuralgic  life  lived  by  thoughlful 
people  in  the  uineteeiith  ceutuiy.  They  cannot  and  do  not  desire  to 
separate  themselves  from  the  strange  humauity  all  rouml  them;  and 
they  see  its  sorrowful,  and  evil,  and  unaccountalde  sides.  They  are 
OS  they  are,  and  can  be  no  other.  Many  of  them  will  look  witli 
affection  anil  envy  at  the  kbours  of  the  higher  Puiists,  lait  they  eoji- 
not  dwell  apoii.  with  Angelieo  or  Francia ;  they  cannot  ignore  the 
evil  that  is  in  the  world,  nor  indeed  separate  it  from  the  good.  Again, 
fur  g(H)d  or  evil,  such  men's  characters  are  dee^dy  marked,  and 
whether  they  will  or  no,  their  personality  is  stamped  on  all  Ihey  pro- 
duce.   Tliey  see  the  woild  vividly,  and  cau  but  paint  what  they  see. 


•  AH  tio  (orma  ara  □dnnLrsljly  and  aubtly  dJBtingTiLslied  and  (irrmigoil  ty  tlie  niitlior  of 
"  Moilom  I'ttiutera,"  to!,  iil.  But  his  brilliant.  ToliumeH  huve  Iml-h  but  ti«nil<?s8]y,  if 
Iklmost  uiiivcraallj-,  rcod  ■  aad  £10  himsj]!?  justly  complained,  "ttat  people  daehed  at  liis 
dc!Bcir)ittin&a,  and  i>&id  no  attentiuu  to  Ms  mAtkr;"  eo  thai  n  sLart  rcpradiictiaii  or  ndapta- 
(don  of  hifl  -work  tieenis  not  uuproiMir  here. 


Thoughts  on  Christian  Art,  71 

They  have  their  times  of  aspiration  and  adoration,  but  must  miud 
earthly  things ;  they  cannot  help  being  double-minded  and  unstable, 
sharing  in  the  doubts  and  inconsistencies  of  their  times,  and  feeling 
them  more  acutely  than  others  feel  them.  Their  art  raises  them 
above  many  things,  but  drives  them  through  many  others  ;  and  these 
men  often  echo  sadly  enough  the  words  of  their  great  leader, 
"E  &ticoso  la  pittura,  e  sempre  si  fa  il  mare  ma^iore."* 

Now  the  fact  is,  that  it  is  on  men  of  this  character,  Eealists  or 
Naturalists  as  we  must  call  them,  that  the  hopes  of  modern  art  really 
depend.  Painters  of  our  day,  who  from  time  to  time  produce  the 
noblest  works  of  direct  illustration  of  Holy  Scripture,  are  unable  to 
confine  themselves  to  religious  subject  Their  minds  are  full  of  many- 
coloured  images  of  things  "  craving  to  be  painted ;"  and  their  choice  of 
subject  will  be  determined  by  the  vividness  of  those  images,  directly 
or  indirectly  "  religious  "  in  their  character.  And  if  Sacred  Art  is  to 
be  art  at  all,  their  work  should  be  accepted,  and  they  themselves 
encouraged  to  hold  themselves  as  teachers  responsible  to  God  and 
man ;  not  as  mere  craftsmen  on  the  one  hand,  or  as  uncomprehended 
geniuses  on  the  other.  Being  Christian  men,  and  speaking  as  such, 
let  them  know  that  they  will  be  attended  to,  and  neither  suspected 
nor  scorned.  It  will  not  do  to  exorcise  originality,  or  to  say  that 
thoughtful  men  shall  find  no  way  of  making  Art  the  handmaid  of  the 
Faith,  except  by  painting  what  are  called  sacred  pictures.  Nor  is  it 
desirable  that  the  devU,  who  has  already  possessed  himself  of  all  the 
good  Fsalm  tunes,  said  Wesley,  should  have  all  the  good  paintings 
also.  One  thing,  which  is  far  more  needed  just  now  than  a  supply  of 
good  painters,  is  a  large  number  of  well-read  and  thoughtful  specta^ 
tors:  just  as  good  listeners  are  rarer  than  good  talkers.  And  hardly 
enough  attention  is  paid  to  the  thoughts  of  the  painter  to  encourage 
him  to  work  them  out  on  canvas.  Ueep  calls  to  deep,  and  thought 
appeals  to  the  thoi^htful :  and  we  should  have  more  and  better  sacred 
pictures,  if  we  could  only  see  the  sacredness  of  those  we  have. 

We  all  know  that  from  the  earhest  date,  sculpture  and  painting 

*  Tintoret.  One  of  the  happiest  creations  of  Mr.  Brovning'a  genius  perhaps  is  his 
Fre  Lippo  Lippi:  the  inconigiblo  monk-reoliiit ;  sinner  in  life,  but  not  sensualist  in 
art:— 

"Tou'Te  seen  the  ■world, 
The  beauty,  and  the  wonder,  and  the  power : 
The  shapes  of  things,  their  colours,  lights  and  shadee. 
Changes,  surprises — and  God  made  it  all, 
For  what  P    Bo  you  feel  thankful,  ay  or  no. 
For  this  fair  town's  face,  yonder  river's  line  f 

T^ty  not  paint  these 
Just  as  they  are,  careless  what  comes  of  it  ? 
God's  vorks — paint  any  one,  and  count  it  crime 
To  let  a  truth  slip."    ... 


/^ 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


were  used  as  nieEina  of  instructiou  in  tlie  faith.  Sculpture,  it  is  e\'i- 
deut,  takes  the  place  of  painting  in  the  first  days  uf  art^  J'rom  the 
greater  ease  of  its  eitrly  stjiges.  And  our  ]Jurpose  ^tU  he  "well 
ans"n*ered  if  we  can  call  due  attention  to  the  fmuk  realism  and  natu- 
ralism, and  free  use  of  all  attainable  means  of  Art  teaching,  in.  aud 
fixim  the  very  Iwgiiinings  of  Christian  work.  Two  such  beginnings 
there  ait,  wliose  relics  are  partly  presen'ed  for  us  :  one,  the  ai-t  of  the 
Catacombs  and  early  Christian  sepulchres ;  the  other,  the  first  produc- 
tions of  Gothic  or  Korthern  Art  in  the  Lombard  churches.  Let  us  lake 
the  earlier  works  the  first.  We  may  just  Jiotice  at  starting  bow 
obvious  ate  the  reasons  why  Christian  Ait  should  have  assnined  an 
ascetic  or  conventual  foi-m  in  the  course  of  the  third  and  fourth  cen- 
turies, or  earlier.  Tiie  whole  Church  took  an  a.scetic  form,  under 
stress  of  corruptions  within  and  persecution  from  without.  And  with 
the  conventual  spirit  rose  that  conventual  art  which  is  popularly 
euppueed  to  iuclude  all  early  Christiaii  art.  On  the  tliaappenrance  of 
the  arts  in  Italy,  it  was  preserved  in  Byzantine  cloisters,  tu  be  restored 
to  her  when  the  conquests  of  Eelisarius  partly  i-ecovered  her  for  the 
Eastern  Empire.  It  has  influenced  Ciraabue,  and  AngelicOj  and  Fran- 
cia,  and  Perugino,  and  the  early  mind  of  llafaeL  It  ia  pi-actised  in 
its  quaint  x>urity  frniu  Athos  to  Sinai  at  this  day,  changing  no  more 
than  the  Mede  or  the  leopard.  We  have  seen  the  same  t'eatares  of  the 
Madonna  (described  once  and  fur  ever  in  the  "  Stones  of  Venice,"  il  2) 
in  the  mosaics  of  Toi-cello  and  Jlurano,  elsewhere  in  Italy,  at  Mount 
Siuai,  and  at  ilar  Saba  near  the  iJead  Sea,'  Thus  it  was  that  frLim 
the  ashes  of  the  Empire  sprung  the  fiist  taint  "  Renaissance  "  of  paint- 
ing in  the  Western  world,  preceded  by  thatt  architecture  which,  once 
reinforced  witli  tlie  Teutonic  energy,  sprung  into  its  chief  glory  at 
Pisa,  in  the  bauds  of  Buschetto.  The  fragments  of  its  fair  decay  iu 
Vetiice  have  been  wortliily  described  by  the  author  of  "Modern 
raint^rs-"  All  know  and  feel  tlie  chief  chamcteristics  of  Byzantine 
art:  its  rigidity  and  delicacy;  its  solemnity  and  the  severe  giuce  of 
its  conventionalism.  It  gives  signs  of  n  stricter  rule  than  even  con- 
ventual painters  couM  endure  in  the  West :  for  it  is  the  work  not 

•  Sec  Curzon's  "MonastcrioB  of  the  LoTBnli"  also  a  paper  in  "Toratinii  Touriat*," 
by  the  Bcv,  ¥.  ToKur,  ExotOT  College,  Gxfanl.  The  dL'scHptlcm  in  tbs  "  Shmes  of 
Venice"  must  bt  r^ad  at  leogtli :  ijidwd  it  boa  ht^a  rend  nlmust  utuv^rBiillf,  if  it  ie  not 
for^Uen  in  UieBU  crowded  times.  There  eu«  not  moay  «J(ytuhM  like  it  iu  the  English  pr 
oil  J-  other  language. 

t  B«  the  MfiTiiiiin  of  LotMam'*  "  Italian  History  and  Art  in  tho  Bliddlc  Ap!B,"  th,  L  i— 
"  Jm  oTi-hilpctuic  was  tht)  art  Trtiich  Inst  rGtaLiii?d  its  ntolity,  ao  tC  wu  tho  tiret  to  riAe  to 
a  new  Ufe.  Aa  early  oi  the  ninth  and  tenth  centunGa,  the  forms  of  Kume  and  Byzantium, 
fu»ed  together  and  touched  ^itL  iht!  fipirit  of  the  Gorman  nalioiis,  gave  lisy  1o  b  me^r  style. 
.  .  .  Alwut  j.D,  1060,  the  PiMin  fleiot  took  I'nlonno.  .  ,  .  With  their  spoil  lliey 
rt^eoKed  to  liuUd  a  cathedral  worthy  of  Cho  Slate  and  the  occasioD.  Buschetto  "nai  their 
OKhitect,  &nd  hia  vork  atanda  ;«C  uocbangciL,"  &c.,  £d. 


Thoughts  on  Christian  Art.  73 

only  of  ascetics,  but  of  Eastern  ascetics.  It  is  in  the  great  mosaics  of 
JIurano,  and  Eavenna,  and  Mount  Sinai — most  of  all,  perhaps,  in  the 
"  Last  Judgment"  in  the  apse  of  Torcello,  that  such  men's  power  is  seen. 
"Dreadful  earnestness"  is  its  chief  character :  there  is  little  technical 
skill ;  the  inspiration  of  genius,  and  physical  beauty,  are  not  found ; 
there  is  no  trace  of  the  Gothic  energy,  or  irony,  or  wild  play  of 
fancy.  But  there  is  the  power  of  fixed  faith  and  unchangeable  con- 
viction. And  for  all  expression  of  calm  abstraction  and  sadness  in 
saintly  or  angelic  features,  Byzantine  art  remained  unrivalled  till 
Angelico  and  Francia  arose,  and  is  not  without  its  lessons  for  us 
now. 

We  must  for  the  time  set  aside  the  question  of  whether  and  how 
far  the  heads  of  the  early  Church  may  have  been  inclined  to  forbid  or 
discourage  pictorial  ornament  in  churches,  either  for  instruction  or  to 
stimulate  religious  sentiment.  What  we  have  to  notice  first  is  that 
such  use  was  undoubtedly  made  of  art  in  the  earliest  days,  and  that  it 
was  made  with  a  freedom  of  choice  in  subject  which  reminds  us  of 
the  all-representing  and  all-imagining  sculptures  of  the  Komanesque 
church-fronts  of  Verona.  The  work  of  the  Catacombs  has  the  realism 
of  simphcity :  its  authors  may  not  have  been  well  able  to  express 
themselves  in  art,  yet  they  had  in  them  that  which  art  alone  could 
express.  They  seem  to  have  painted  like  little  children,  aa-well  as 
they  could,  rejecting  nothing.  Such  at  least  is  the  testimony  of  Kaoul 
Rochette,  and  of  the  new  and  most  valuable  publications  of  De  Rossi. 
One  of  the  chief  characteristies  of  the  earliest  work,  as  they  describe 
it,  seems  to  have  been  its  spirit  of  symboHsm :  the  ready  facQity  with 
which,  so  to  speak,  it  saw  God  in  all  things,  and  discovered  in  earthly 
things  analogies  of  things  heavenly.  It  may  be  a  kind  of  shock  to 
some  of  M.  Rochette's  readers  to  find  what  unceremonious  and  un- 
flinching use  was  made  even  of  pagan  emblems  in  aid  of  Christian 
symbolism.*  There  is  no  cause  for  such  alarm.  Men's  minds  were 
preoccupied  by  the  old  myths,  and  their  new-foxmd  faith  and  hope 
coidd  not  at  once  sponge  out  the  recollections  of  their  childhood,  how- 
ever it  might  rule  their  wills. 

Jor  aught  we  know,  men  like  St.  Paul  may  have  seen,  in  a  few  of 
the  heroic  legends,  a  kind  of  witness  to  the  heathen  of  God's  care  for 
them.  But  that  Christian  paintera  copied,  or  used,  remembrances  of 
pagan  figures  for  Christian  purposes,  tliere  can  be  no  doubt.  M. 
Rochette  instances  a  figure  of  the  Madonna,  fi-om  a  very  eafly  sarco- 
phagus, much  superior  as  a  work  of  art  to  Christian  paintings  of  the 
same  date.  It  is  so  nearly  analogous  to  ancient  figures  of  Penelope, 
as  to  seem  almost  taken  from  them.  In  fact,  as  we  have  imphed,  the 
earliest  Christian  art  was  still  the  art  of  men  determined  on  progress, 

♦  See  note,  p.  77,  infra. 


74 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


who  not  only  dedicated  their  labour,  but  sought  to  make  it  worthier 
of  dedication.  They  were  not  content  thnt  their  pictures  of  the 
objects  of  their  faith  on  which  their  minds  dwelt,  as  cm  ^dvid  realities, 
should  be,  as  M.  liocliette  says,  "  mie  suite  de  ibrmules  coEsacreea,  de 
8ignes  comentionneiB,  oti  Tart  i^tait  plutut  une  sorte  d'^criturs  figiira^ 
tive  qu'uu  vtVitiihle  moyen  imitatif."  Wietlier  Christian  artists 
lotjked  ou  tiie  tales  of  Deuetdion  and  Hercidea  as  foi-esiiadu wings  of 
the  truth  in  heathen  minds  or  not,  they  made  use  of  them.  The  pic- 
tures of  Noah  in  the  Cataeamhs  present  au  exact  analoj^  ivith  medals 
of  Septimiua  Kevenis,  stamped  with  the  deluye  of  Deucahoii.  The 
history  of  Jonah  is  perhaps  the  most  frequently  chosen  subject  of  alL 
No  doubt  our  Lord's  reference  to  it^  as  a  tj^pe  of  His  own  resurrec- 
tion, Lud  much  to  do  with  this.  But  the  history  and  its  representa- 
tions are  stiungely  connected  with  those  of  Hercules,  Jason,  Hesioue, 
and  Aiidroiuetia.  The  Last  fable,  in  particular,  bad  for  its  scene  the 
C0ii5t  or  the  city  of  Joppa,  and  was  thiis  on  cotwmou  gt-omid  with 
Jonah's  histoiy.  And  it  seems  t*  have  caused  no  painful  feeling  of 
irreverence  iii  the  miads  of  secret  woraliippera  prepared  to  die  the 
maitjT's  death,  to  recoj^nise  in  the  pictures  of  the  deeds  of  aainfca  and 
prophets,  adaptations  of  the  idenb  of  well-taught  Pagfliuam.  They 
spoiled  the  s^ioiler:  the  tempter  had  no  special  right  to  beauty,  or  to 
skill  iu  repreaeuting  it 

No  duubt  they  hail  their  own  symbolism,  with  aU  its  pathetic 
power  and  beauty :  but  that  was  a  beauty  of  thought  and  feeling,  nut 
dependent  on  Art  at  idl — or  at  least  very  slightly.  Tlie  fish,  taken  aa 
a  6]niibol  of  the  Lord,  was  simply  an  acrostic,  or  peculiar  montjgram : 
no  more  a  matter  of  art-representation  than  the  labarum,  or  a  simple 
figure  of  the  cross.  So  with  the  vine — even  in  those  daya  it  would 
have  seemed  an  irreverence  to  dwell  over-slulfully  ou  Imratiny  clusters 
and  twining  tendrils,  in  that  wliich  was  to  call  men's  thoughta  to  the 
Vine  of  souls.  Any  rude  hierogly|)hit:  might  stand  for  a  shij),  or  ark, 
and  suffice  to  lead  the  waiulerin"^  soul  away  to  the  apostobc  bark  antl 
its  Captaim  The  laiub,  the  dove,  and  the  pbomix  never  needed 
elaborate  realization  of  wool  or  plumage.  It  may  be  said,  in  fact,  that 
symbols,  though  productive  of  high  and  noble  thoughts,  and  most 
iraimitant  as  means  oC  instruction,  are  indypeudeiit  of  Art:  they  are 
conventional,  or  restrained  by  conventional  rules,  and  ore  simply  and 
in  fact  "  plntot  une  sorte  d'licriture  figurative  <[u'im  veritable  raoyen 
imitatif"  Power  of  symbolism  is  often  to  be  preferred  to  artistic 
beauty ;  for  a  symbol  may  be  powerfiJ  by  sheer  force  of  thought,  Men 
may  differ,  and  they  do,  in  theii-  estimates  of  the  beauty  of  the  Duomo 
of  Toreello ;  but  few  Cbrlatians,  ouce  seeing  its  meaning,  would  endure 
to  lose  the  rounded  apse  of  that  "goodly  temple-ship,"*  where  the 
•  "  stones  of  Vemice,"  Tol.  ii.  I. 


Thoughts  on  Christian  Art.  75 

Bishop's  throne  is  set  in  the  steersman's  place,  as  if  he  verily  "  over- 
saw "  and  guided  the  ark  of  the  Church  in  storm  and  sunshine. 

De  Eossi  appears  to  consider  the  good  shepherd  to  he  the  earliest 
Christian  aymhoL  In  the  crypt  of  Lucina  (now  joined  to  the  cata- 
comb of  St.  Sehastiano)  it  is  repeated  alternately  with  a  woman's 
figure  round  the  ceiling ;  and  strongly  resembles  a  Herculaneum 
picture,  supposed  to  have  been  copied  from  the  celebrated  statue  of 
Calamis.  This  female  figure  is  common  in  the  Catacombs :  there  are 
various  opinions  as  to  its  exact  import,  which  seem  to  centre  in  its 
being  either  the  Blessed  Virgin  or  an  ideal  of  the  Church.  The  veiy 
ancient  similitude  of  the  fish,  too,  is  not  only  an  anagram  of  the  initial 
letters  of  the  Lord's  name  and  title ;  it  represents  the  believer  as  well 
as  the  object  of  belief.  The  thought  of  men  as  fishes  of  the  Church's 
net,  and  various  ideas  of  passing  through  troubled  waters  in  safety — 
of  continued  danger  and  preservation, — seem  all  to  have  been  brought 
before  men's  minds  by  this  emblem.  The  subject  of  Christian  Sym- 
bolism, however,  is  too  wide  for  us  here,  and  has  been  ably  dealt  with 
already  in  the  works  of  Mrs.  Jameson  and  Lady  Eastlaka 

Before  proceeding  with  De  Rossi's  book,  it  is  time  to  notice  the  two 
recorded  prohibitions  of  the  use  of  images  and  pictures  in  Christian 
churches.  Both  seem  to  have  been  limited.  All  paintii^  of  sacred 
figures  on  church  walls  were  forbidden  in  the  time  of  Diocletian. 
The  Boman  Catholic  explanation  of  this — not  an  altogether  satisfactory 
one — is  that  they  were  discontinued  for  fear  of  their  desecration,  or 
simply  as  a  matter  of  prudence.  It  would  seem  that  portable  pictures 
were  still  allowed,  or  perhaps  substituted  for  mural  ones ;  indeed  the 
use  of  the  folding  diptych  or  triptych  is  supposed  to  date  from  about 
this  time.  St.  Clement  of  Alexandria's  list  of  peimitted  symbols  of 
course  imphes  a  prohibition  of  some  kinds  of  images  or  pictures ;  but 
this  is  more  likely  to  refer  to  Gnostic  emblems  than  to  the  use  of 
pictures  for  instruction,  or  to  the  effort  after  beauty  and  accurate 
representation  in  such  works.  Both  were  sought  for  in  a  i-ude  and 
simple  way,  by  the  earliest  artists.  They  symbolized  the  perfect 
holiness  of  their  subjects  by  giving  their  features  all  the  beauty  they 
could  depict ;  doubtless  feeling  their  want  of  skill.  "  En  RSprtJseutant 
le  Christ  et  la  Vierge,"  says  Kaoul  Rochette,  "  le  seul  effort  d'atteindre  ^ 
I'image  de  la  Divinity  accablait  I'impuissance  de  leur  talent."  We 
ahoidd  think  it  did :  and  others  beside  theirs.  Entwined  with 
idolatry  as  the  arts  were  in  pagan  days,  it  is  no  wonder  if  men  well 
skilled  in  them  were  late  in  casting  in  their  lot  with  the  disciples. 
The  heathen  painter's  case  was  exactly  that  of  Demetrius  of  Ephesus, 
whose  tumultuous  concourse  no  doubt  contained  many  "  artists  of  the 
period."  For  a  time,  the  sensual  Pt^an  Art  refused  to  serve  the 
Faith :  but  that  does  not  prove  that  the  teachers  of  the  Faith  would 


76 


Tlie  Contemporary  Review. 


not  call  a  bumWer  and  pujcr  Art  to  their  aid.  It  is  no  wonder  if 
lieatlieti  sculptors  and  paintcra,  the  helota  of  sensual  beauty,  turned 
away  from  Christian  cliurchea.  There  13  atill  less  cause  for  siirprise 
if  the  teachers  of  the  new  fiuth  suspected  an  art  which,  for  them, 
was  full  of  associations  of  idolatry  and  persecution.  Men  were  not 
likely  to  npjireciate  tlie  suljlimity  of  the  graven  image  of  Jupiter 
wliich  had  frowned  in  raarVde  on  their  tortured  hrethren ;  fiad 
many  a  Christian  must  have  aeen  Iiia  kindred  slain,  not  accepting 
deliverance,  liefuro  some  Apollo  wliose  liow-shajiej  lips  curled  for 
ever  in  immortal  scorn  of  the  mockings  and  the  scou^jings  men  laid 
on  tlie  Nazarene. 

But  it  was  not,  probably,  till  a  lai^'e  part  of  the  pagan  world  had 
been  taken  within  the  pale  of  the  Church,  and  had,  as  a  natural  con- 
sequence, brought  gj'eat  corruption  into  the  Church,  that  Christian  Art 
took  its  more  Conventual  fonu,  as  earnest  Cliristian  life  t(jok  that 
form  also.  And  e\"er  since  that  time,  through  Byzantine  art,  througli 
Augelico,  and  Frniicisj  and  Perugino,  all  Purist  art  lias  borne  the 
impress  of  the  cloister.  Yet  there  has  been,  and  is,  an  art  whith  is 
not  1)}"  the  clyiJitei',  but  which  tries  to  serve  God  in  the  world ;  and 
there  is  an  analogy  between  that  art  in  the  earliest  times  and  the 
labours  of  our  latter  days. 

Times  have  changed.     Simple  and  unskilful  men  painted  of  old  to 
impress  t!ie  facts  of  the  new  faith,  or  to  set  hefore  men's  eyes  beloved 
imagtis  (iictual  or  idenl)  of  its  founders.    They  did  their  liest.  calling 
all  means  to  their  aid,  often  nsbig  pagan  emblems  and  ideals  as  frctdy      ^ 
as  tbey  would  use  pagan  paiut  and  brushes.    Now  we  ba\'e  educated^H 
men  of  many  thoughts,  mostly  feeling  with  a  fixed  paiii  the  deficiencies^ 
of  other  raeu's  fiiith  and  of  their  own.    Their  turn  of  mind  ia  pensive  ; 
reserve  and  ii*ony  ave  mingled  witli   their  teaching.     They  cannot 
divest  themselvea  of  the  strange  English  taste  for  melancholy  hiunoura, 
and  looking  on  the  seamy  side  of  things.     But  they  have,  in  common 
with  theb  brethren  of  the  Calacomhs,  the  purpose  of  devotiug  tlieir 
art  to  Clirist's  service,  by  making  it  appeal  to  the  thought  and  fijeling 
of  their  hretliren  in  Him. 

But  there  is  a  passisge  in  De  Rossi's  invaluable  volume  which 
caiTies  us  a  step  fartlier.  It  supplies  a  missing  link  in  Cbristiim  art^ 
and  enables  us  to  coaaect  the  hearty  naturalism  of  Lombard  and 
Norman  sculptors  with  the  earliest  practice  of  Ohriatian  workmen. 
All  know  how  fiijely  secular  crafts  and  ordinary  pursuits  are  repre- 
sented iiL  Gothic  cbui'clies ;  and  De  Hossi  connects  this  practicB  with 
the  art  of  the  Calaconil>3 : — -"  E  uuo  fatto  che  ho  coustantementc  notato 
nei  sotteranei  cumeteri,  avero  i  Criatiani  nei  primi  seuuli  assai  ad- 
operato  sarcofagi  omati  di  scultori,  che  niun  segtjo  portauo  di  Criatiau- 
ismo,  h  semhrano  ugciti  delle  of&cine  de  genttli     .    .     .    imagine  del 


I 


Thoughts  on  Christian  Art.  77 

cielo  cosmico,  0  scene  di  pastorizia,  di  agricoltura,  di  cacce,  di  giuochi. 
.  .  .  Obvio  e  notissimo  h  il  senso  parabolico  dato  dei  Cristiani  alle 
scene  pastoral!  h  d'agricoltura,  alle  peraificazione  delle  stagioni,  ai 
delfini  e  monatri  maxim  nuotante  nelle  onde."* 

This  at  once  connects  the  various  subject  of  the  Veronese  and 
Lucchese  church-fix>nta  with  the  earliest  days,  and  gives  the  art  of  the 
North,  which  we  inherit,  the  sanction  of  the  art  of  martyred  men. 
Connect  the  free  treatment  of  secular  subjects  with  Christian  hope 
and  teaching  from  the  first,  and  you  connect  modem  Eealist  Art  with 
Christian  teaching  from  the  first  It  is  in  such  churches  as  San 
Zenone  and  San  Fenno  at  Verona,  or  in  S.  Ambrozio  at  Milan,  or  San 
JVfichele  at  Lucca,  that  the  true  origin  of  modem  art  is  to  be  seen. 
The  first  Christian  art  had  to  expire  with  the  ancient  civilization, 
which  even  the  Faith  could  not  keep  alive :  its  faint  relics  remained 
in  Byzantine  temples.  But  as  Christianity  took  possession  of  young 
and  mighty  races,  they  soon  learned  to  dedicate  all  their  early  skill, 
and  to  illustrate  all  their  lives  and  thoughts  by  the  carvings  of  their 
churches.  They  wrote  there  their  version  of  the  history  and  the  hope 
of  all  men, — ^yet  not  their  spiritual  thoughts  only,  but  all  their  ways 
and  crafts,  and  battles  and  himtings.  And  there  is  little  doubt  but 
that  a  symbolic  meaning  may  have  hovered  in  their  minds  over 
their  representations  and  fancies,  as  in  the  Veronese  Griffins  and  the 
Chase  of  Theodoric,*f  where  the  Fiend  stands  waiting  behind  the  suc- 

*  "Egli  §  evidente  che  i  fcdcli  quando  non  pat«rono  avere  arclic  sepolcrali  con  scultore 
di  sacro  u^mento  .  .  .  poaero  molto  atudia  in  iaccgliere  quelle,  cIiG  non  oficndevano 
direttamente  la  log  Fede,  non  rappresentanza  di  rid  idolotrici  0  di  imagini  della  falsa 
dirinito,  o  di  acena  troppo  manifestamente  proprie  della  pagana  tergonio." 

Here  is  a  curious  iaatanco  of  pagjn  legend  adopted  with  deep  meaning, — it  is  a  caning 
on  a  sarcophagus  : — "  Da  un  lato  Ulissc  legato  all'  alhcro  della  nave,  che  oscotta  il  canto 
delle  Sirene  non  udito  dai  auoi  compagni,  le  cui  oreccha  egU  aveva  turato  con  cera.  Dall' 
■Itro  un  giovane  palliato  cou  volume  io  mane  e  sedcnte  certatnente  ascolta  lo  lezioni 
d'una  Muaa  o  d'uuo  filoaofo,"  Ho  obsen'cs  on  it: — "Egli  nefla  nave  di  tnisaevedela 
chieso,  e  nell'  olbero  la  croce,  dolla  quali  il  Signore  crucifiaso  inaegna  ai  fcdeli  turare  le 
orecchi  alle  seduzioui  di  aensi."  (From  De  Rossi,  on  the  Chriatian  adaptations  of  Pagan 
imagery.) 

t  "  Carvings  of  Lombard  Churches."  Appendix  to  vol,  i.  of  the  "  Stones  of  Venice," 
p.  361.  Some  remarks  comparing  the  Lombard  work  of  Verona  with  the  Byzantine  work 
of  St.  Mark's  come  first.  The  Veronese  work  is  voally  superior  in  energy  and  spirit,  and 
also  in  neatness  and  power  of  architecture.  The  Venetian  is  far  more  beautiful  in  line 
and  regular  in  ornamental  effect,  with  greater  sense  of  beauty.  Some  of  the  Veronese  and 
other  subjects  follow. 

"  Two  cocks,  carrying  on  their  ahouldcrs  a  long  staff,  to  which  a  fox  (f)  is  tied  by  the 
legs :  the  strut  of  the  foremost  cock,  lifting  one  leg  at  right  angles  to  the  other,  is  delicious. 
A  Blag-hunt :  several  others  with  dogs :  fruit-trees  between  and  birds  in  them :  snails  and 
&oga  filling  up  the  intervals,  as  if  suspended  in  the  air,  with  some  saucy  puppiea  on  their 
hind  legs ;  two  or  three  nondescript  beasts ;  and  finally,  on  the  centre  of  one  of  the  arches 
on  the  south  side,  on  elephant  and  castle." 

"  But  these  sculptures  are  tame  compared  with  those  of  St.  l>[ichele  of  Pavia  (earlier, — 
of  the  seventh  century  at  latest).     One  capital  is  covered  with  a  moss  of  grinning  heads ' 


78  Tlie  Contemporary  Review, 

cessfiil  hunter.  The  personifications  of  months  and  seasons  and 
labours  of  men  in  St.  Mark's  and  the  ducal  palace  at  Venice  are 
probably  still  better  known.  And  the  passage  we  have  quoted  fixnn 
De  Rossi  connects  them  with  the  very  first  efforts  of  Christian  art,  by 
their  principle  of  seeing  sacred  meaning  in  daily  things. 

This  brings  us  once  more  to  the  brink  of  the  history  of  C3hrisfcian 
Symbolism,  and  that,  in  after  times,  cannot  be  separated  from  the 
subject  of  the  Grotesque.  Both,  or  either,  would  require  a  long  trea- 
tise. Few  are  likely  to  underrate  the  importance  of  such  symbolisms 
as  Albert  Durer's  "  Knight  and  Death,"  or  "  Melancholia ;"  and  it  will 
not  do  to  dismiss  with  scanty  praise  or  brief  analysis  the  engravings 
of  the  great  Blake,  once  "  Pictor  Ignotus."  "What  has  been  said  goes 
no  further  than  to  show  that  the  naturalism,  the  irony,  the  various 
and  wide-ranging  subject  of  modem  Realist  painters,  have  precedent 
enough  in  early  Christian  art,  and  in  the  first  Gothic-Cluistian  art ; — 
that  then  in  fact  all  art  was  dedicated  and  held  sacred.  There  is  a 
distinction  between  Christian  art  and  Conventual  or  Ecclesiastical  art 
The  latter  will  always  have  its  high  value,  and  its  calls  to  the  better 
hope  of  man :  the  former  will  appeal  to  his  mixed  nature,  to  his  his- 
tory and  sufferings,  to  his  painful  and  even  sinful  experience.  There 
are  secular  clergy  as  well  as  regulars ;  there  are  sermons  on  the  man's 
life  as  well  as  on  the  monk's  life.  If  we  can  get  painters  to  preach  us 
such  sermons,  let  us  take  them  and  be  thankful 

It  is  by  looking  at  such  pictures  as  Hunt's  "Scapegoat"  or  Jlillais' 
"  Evil  Sower"  that  some  idea  may  be  formed  of  the  difficulty  of  really 
devoting  consummate  art  to  religious  teaching  in  modem  times. 
Though  one  illustrates  a  parable  and  the  other  a  symbolic  fact,  they 
are  both  of  them  Realist  work  in  the  fullest  sense.  In  both  there  is 
the  greatest  exactness  of  painting  from  actual  nature;  both  are  of 
painful  and  distressing  subject,  bearing  witness  to  evil ;  both  are  full 
of  elaborate  detail  and  incident.  Both  are  as  different  in  their  inspi- 
ration from  Overbeck,  or  Ary  Scheffer,  as  they  are  from  any  of  the 
Sensualists.  There  is  strong  religious  feeling  in  all  four  paintera ;  but 
in  the  Continentals  it  is  rooted  in  the  purity  of  asceticism,  and  formed 
on  conventual  thoughts  of  life  and  of  man.  In  the  Englishmen  there 
is  confusion  of  thought ;  doubt,  sadness,  inequality,  suppressed  violence 
of  feeling,  many  evidences  of  the  Northern  mood :  but  withal  there  is 
a  tremendous  sense  of  the  truth  of  Holy  Scripture,  and  the  intense 
reality  of  the  thing  painted.    Look  back  from  these  to  the  days  when 


other  lieads  gror  out  of  two  bodies,  or  out  of  and  under  feet : — oil  are  fighting,  or  devour- 
ing,  or  struggling,    .    .    .    like  a  feTerish  dream." 

Just  such  dreuna  were  those  of  Blake  in  the  last  generation,  when  his  mind  wbb  ex- 
hausted with  definite  subject,  yet  could  not  rest.    (See  Gilchrist's  Life.} 


Tfwugkts  on  Christian  Art.  79 

so  little  still  had  been  attained  by  any  man,  that  no  man  had  much 
to  learn ;  when  all  that  was  possible  was  easy,  and  the  painter's  life 
might  pass  in  catacomb  or  convent,  not  without  sense  of  progress  and 
enjoyment  of  increased  skill  in  using  the  simple  forms  and  colours  he 
knew.  It  is  like  men  gliding  down  a  small  and  pleasant  river  into 
the  sea  that  wearied  out  the  soul  of  Tintoret.  Art;  now-a-days  de- 
mands and  stimulates  all  the  thoughts  and  efforts  of  severely  educated 
men.*  Indeed  the  pictures  of  a  true  painter  are  often  a  kind  of  net 
result  or  index  of  his  whole  mind  and  character  at  the  time.  Not  every 
day,  but  only  as  God  gives  him  grace,  can  the  thought  of  a  work 
which  shall  be  of  worth  for  Christian  teaching  come  to  a  man's  soul. 
And  according  to  other  gifts,  and  his  use  of  them  from  the  first,  will 
be  the  tenacity,  patience,  forethought,  and  insight  into  detail,  with 
which  he  will  get  his  thought  worked  out  on  canvas.  The  difficulty 
of  Art  is  the  difficulty  of  Life :  men  cannot  now  paint  like  little 
children  as^  of  old,  because  they  cannot  literally  be  as  little  children. 
Yet  that  man  is  not  wise  who  foi^ets  the  command  to  remember  the 
childlike  virtues ;  and  he  will  hardly  paint  as  a  Christian  man  whose 
thoughts  have  no  reverence  for  the  quaint  hieroglyphics  of  the  early 
daya 

E.  St.  John  Tyrwhitt. 

*  The  TJniTcratiefl  seem  to  pK>duc«  their  ihare  of  pAinters.  The  names  of  Bums  Jones, 
Spencer,  Stanhope,  and  Alfred  Hunt  (all  Oxford  men),  are  sniSciently  veil  known  for 
originality  and  power ;  and  there  are  many  more. 


I 


^^s^:z 


^v?^ 


w^^^ 


c^Q,»Q 


m 


»©tas 


B© 


EDUCATION   AND   SCHOOL. 


Education  and  BchooL  By  the  BeT.  Edwasd  Thrino,  M.A.,  Head  Maater 
of  UppiDgliam  School,    late  Fellow    of  £!ng'<    Collece,    Cambridge. 

Cambridgo  and  London,  1904. 

"  T^HE  proof  of  the  pudding  is  in  the  eating."  So  says  the  good  old 
J-  homely  proverb ;  and  it  is  generally  equally  true  that  the  best 
test  of  a  man's  theory  is  the  plain  and  simple  one,  "  Does  it  work  ?" 
If  we  apply  this  test  to  Mr.  Thring's  theory,  as  embodied  in  his  book 
which  heads  our  article,  it  must  undoubtedly  yield  an  affirmative 
reply.  Any  one  who  knows  who  Mr.  Thring  is,  and  the  work  he  hag 
done  and  is  doing,  will  at  once  acknowledge  this.  Uppingham  Gram- 
mar School  was  until  recently  an  ordinary  school,  of  respectable  status 
among  provincial  grammar  schools,  but  nothing  more.  Its  rival  used 
to  be  the  neighbouring  school  of  Oakham,  founded  about  the  same 
period ;  and  as  a  little  county  like  Rutlandsliire  was  over-weighted  \vitli 
two  good  grammar  schools,  it  followed  that  as  one  flourished  the  other 
pined.  Such  was  the  condition  of  Uppingham  on  Sir.  Thring's  ap- 
pointment to  succeed  an  able  schoolmaster,  Ur.  Holden ;  who,  however, 
was  so  little  satisfied  with  the  position  and  prospects  of  Uppingham, 
that  from  it  he  sought  and  obtained  the  head-mastership  of  the 
Cathedral  School  of  Durham.  In  Mr.  Tliring's  hands,  however,  a 
notable  change  has  come  over  Uppingham.  Just  as  Harrow  and 
Kugby  rose,  under  wise  and  able  management,  from  being  mere  pro- 
vincial grammar  schools,  to  the  proud  position  they  now  occupy  in 
the  very  forefront  of  the  education  of  English  lads ;  so  Uppingham  in  a 
comparatively  few  years  has  i^isen  from  respectable  grammar  school 


Education  and  School.  8 1 

mediocrity  to  a  position  of  fair  rivalry  with  tlie  long-established  seats 
of  public  school  training.  This  was  not  the  work  of  a  day,  nor  of 
mere  ordinary  sedulity  and  zeal  in  its  government.  Mr.  Thring  had 
a  theory ;  he  was  a  person  of  strong  convictions ;  he  was  also  a  man 
of  enteiprise, — of  enterprise  wliich  many  persons  will  say  was  little 
short  of  rashness.  He  got  round  him  a_8taff  of  masters  whom  he  ino- 
culated with  his  own  couvictions,  and  with  something  of  his  own  zeaL 
He  induced  these  colleagues  to  build  houses,  adapted,  according  to  his 
theory,  for  a  great  and  well-governed  school  Each  house  was  to  be, 
so  far  as  its  boy-arrangements  were  concerned,  the  fac-simile  of  the 
other ;  their  system  was  to  be  uniform,  their  numbers  never  beyond  a 
fixed  maximum ;  a  condition  which  Mr.  Thring  imposed  upon  himself, 
magnanimously  discarding  the  temptation  to  a  lucrative  monopoly 
which  he  might  fairly  have  kept  in  his  own  hands.  And  the  bold 
step  thus  taken  proved  a  success.  Had  it  failed,  he  would,  perhaps 
justly,  have  been  condemned  as  a  reckless  enthusiast :  as  he  has  suc- 
ceeded, he  has  earned  the  thanks  of  all  who  wish  well  to  our  old 
grammar  schools,  and  would  gladly  see  them  doing  their  full  work  in 
the  education  of  the  middle  classes  in  this  country.  Prima  facif,  then, 
the  rough  test,  "Does  it  work  ?"  must  in  this  case  be  deemed  satis- 
fectory.  But  though  a  good  rough  test,  and  perhaps  in  nine  cases  out 
of  ten  likely  to  be  sound,  it  must  be  merely  taken  for  what  it  is  worth, 
viz.,  a  good  rough  test,  yielding  a  good  prima  fade  conclusion.  The 
test  is  not  absolute  and  conclusive.  In  the  present  case,  for  example, 
success  may  have  arisen  either  wholly  or  partially  from  other  causes  be- 
sides the  soundness  of  the  theory.  It  is  impossible  to  say  tliat  novelty 
may  not  have  been  one  element  in  the  resiilt.  For  this  is  eminently 
a  novelty-loving  age.  We  have  lived  in  such  a  whirl  of  invention  and 
discovery,  tliat  a  new  idea,  a  new  plan,  a  new  theory,  commends  itself 
to  us  on  the  first  blush,  because  it  is  new.  We  have  learned  so  much 
to  distrust  what  is  old  and  established,  simply  because  what  is  old  and 
established  betrays  weaknesses  and  flaws  as  time  goes  on  and  circum- 
stances alter,  that  we  surrender  ourselves  in  willing  bondage  to  what 
is  novel,  provided  it  also  be  plausible.  Let  any  one  who  doubts  this 
look  around  at  the  manifold  systems  of  education  propounded  and 
eagerly  supported  through  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land.  Not 
that  we  would  insult  Mr.  Thring  by  pretending  for  one  moment  that 
his  matured,  if  over-sanguine,  and  not  wholly  infallible  views  on 
school  education  are  to  be  compared  with  the  nostnims  which  are  so 
greedily  sought  after  by  educational  theorists  or  Ijy  iU-judging  parents, 
with  a  zeal  for  their  children's  welfare  not  according  to  knowledge. 
But  it  is  just  possible  that  the  charm  of  novelty  may  be  an  ingredient 
in  his,  as  in  their  success.  But  besidas.  it  may  be  here,  as  in  other 
cases,  that  the  man  himself  is  the  school.  It  is  by  no  means  rare  fur 
VOL.  I.  G 


82 


The  Contemporary  Review, 


ftn  individual  t/i  l>e  so  mucli  the  soul  of  a  system  tihat  it  coUjipses 
■when  he  ceases  to  l>e  its  soul.  Pytliaguieauism  fell  with  I'ythagoras: 
Alexander's  Asiatie  empire  not  only  actually  broke  up,  but  exliihited 
the  seeds  of  ultimate  decay  in  its  disjointed  iiiemlK^rSj  as  soon  as 
Alexander's  spiiit  ceased  tu  auimatie  it.  To  LJescend  to  the  huiuUer 
sphere  tpf  schouls :  this  \s,  true  of  the  greater  ones  to  some  extent. 
Even  there  a  liead-master  'vvho  is  Tiot  Imm  to  liis  wnrk,  and  who 
labours  ino'iUt  Minerva,  can  reduce  his  school  both  in  numbers  and 
condition  -n-ith  frightful  rapidity;  whily^  on  the  uther  hanil,  an  Anjold 
uv  a  Vaughan  ^an  create,  or  at  least  recreate,  and  infuse  a  life  of  their 
uwu  into  the  school  they  aie  sent  to  mle  over.  This  dependence  ou 
the  ability  and  character  of  the  head-master  is  of  course  les$  visible  in 
what  are  commonly  called  the  "grent  schonls"  than  in  the  grammar 
schools,  for  the  obWous  reason  that  they  Ciin  thitiw  into  the  opposite 
scale,  30  as  to  outweigh  a  head-master's  shortoomutgs,  the  pTtMiije 
<lerived  fram  the  past,  the  vitality  of  old  institutions  aixd  traditions — 
hi  a  word,  the  system  as  contrasted  with  the  man,- — even  the  unreason- 
iii;j;  ttiujicit.y  with  M'hich  peo]ile  cleave  tu  a  ;^eat  name  after  its  glory 
has  departed.  The  great  st-hoola,  therefore,  hallasted  by  these  atlvau- 
tages,  can  tide  over  an  interrej,'Tiuni  ol'  incompeteuey  on  the  part  of 
their  heiul.  Not  sfi,  however,  tlie  grammar  schools-  T!ie  breath  of 
life  breathed  into  them  by  an  able  master  is  in  its  nature  too  often 
fleeting,  and  the  toilsumely  reared  eilifieu  which  the  able  man  liiis 
constructed,  yea^  "aud  tliouyht  that  his  house  shall  endure,"  uullapses 
with  a  run  through  the  unskili'ulness  nr  unwisdom  of  his  successor. 
And  it  is  no  diaparayemeiit  to  Mr.  Thring  to  say  that  -ne  believe  this 
is,  to  a  certain  extent,  the  case  with  what  he  has  done  at  UppLughani. 
He  liiniaell'  is  a  veiy  appmciahle  element  in  t!ie  success  he  has 
achieved  there.  He  has  caiTied  iutu  efl'ect  his  theorj-,  because,  right 
or  WToug,  he  lielieves  in  it  with  idl  the  faith  of  an  enthusiast.  He  is 
eiimeat  himself,  and  has  managed  to  infuse  somewhat  both  of  hia 
earnestness  and  faith  into  those  about  hitn.  He  not  only  btdieves  iu 
his  theory,  but  (in  the  nght  and  proper  sense  of  the  woi-d)  lielicve.s  in 
hini-self  as  the  prophet  of  his  system  ;  ho  works  it  thomughly  cow 
aniAjrc.  To  borrow  our  Fi'PiK'h  neij^hbovu's'  i'lLVomite  expression,  he  is 
conscious  of  a  mission.  Nor  is  this  all ;  for  evci]  these  are  not  ull  the 
points  essential  to  make  a  great,  or  even  a  successful  schoolmaster ;  he 
must  have  that  also  which  will  commend  him  to  boys.  And  this  no 
one  who  reads  Mr.  Thring's  book,  even  if  he  be  personally  a  stranger 
to  Mm,  can  doubt  that  he  possesses,  -viz,,  vigour  aud  vivacity,  liijih 
anirnal  spirits,  an  indomitable  sense  of  riui.  In  fai:t,  be  ha.s  e^ddently 
carried  a  large  slice  of  the  boy  with  Idin  into  luidtUe  life. 

But  whatever  other  elements  in  Mr.  Thring's  success  we  may  thtuk 
we  recognise  Ijcsidea  the  somiduess  of  his  theoty,  there  is  the  success 


Education  and  School.  83 

a/ai/  accompli;  and  the  very  fact  of  success  justly  claims  a  respectful 
hearing.  And  the  more  so,  as  Mr.  Thring  has  shown  experimentally 
what  can  be  done  with  an  old-faahioned  grammar  school,  at  a  time 
when  grammar  school  education  is  on  its  triaL  The  substance  of  his 
reply  to  the  question,  "  How  shall  we  make  our  grammar  schools  effi- 
cient ?  "  is,  "  turn  as  many  of  them  as  will  bear  so  transforming  into 
public  schools,  avoiding  the  faults  which  are  inherent  in,  or  accidental 
to,  the  old  public  schools."  And  there  is  no  doubt  tliat  the  middle 
or  professional  class  in  England  has  either  anticipated  or  is  now 
endorsing  his  theory.  To  prove  this  we  have  merely  to  point  to  the 
unprecedented — almost  mushroom  growth,  of  the  great  modem  public 
schools  of  Rosaall,  Marlborough,  Wellington  College,  and  Haileybury. 
These,  with  others,  have  one  and  all  shot  up  into  full  growth  almost 
immediately  they  were  founded  or  even  projected.  They  professed  to 
bring  the  public  school  system  within  the  reach  of  the  more  limited 
means  of  the  professional  classes  ;  and  they  have  been  beset  with 
such  crowds  of  applicants,  that  the  wonder  is' where  so  lai^e  a  raw 
material  of  boy  to  be  educated  can  be  manufactured.  The  truth  is, 
they  have  drained  the  grammar  schools,  and  thereby  have  unmistak- 
ably proved  the  manifest  preference  of  this  class  in  society  for  the 
public  school  idea,  as  distinct  from  the  mere  grammar  school  idea. 
But  the  case  is  even  stronger  than  this.  St.  Nicholas'  College,. 
Shoreham,  with  its  affiliated  middle  and  lower  class  schools,  even  ia 
the  teeth  of  an  adverse  theological  prejudice;  has  filled  to  overflowing, 
and  has  thus  proved  that  the  notion  of  public  school  education  and 
its  advantages  has  penetrated  to  still  lower  sti-ata  in  society.  We  are 
at  the  present  time  still  bound  to  suspend  our  judgment,  and  await 
with  defereuce  the  result  of  the  labours  of  the  Scliools  Inquiry 
Commission,  which  will  doubtless  make  important  recommendations 
on  the  subject  of  grammar  school  education.  Whatever  be  their 
verdict  however,  we  cannot  doubt  that  the  country  has  virtually 
expressed  itself  in  favour  of  the  public  school  system  generally,  and 
in  particular  of  the  old  traditional  channels  of  mental  training  which 
prevail  in  those  institutions,  modified,  it  may  be,  according  to  the 
exigencies  of  the  present  time. 

And  now  for  the  book  in  which  Mr.  Thring  embodies  his  views  of 
what  school,  and  school  education,  should  be.  It  is,  we  think,  to  be 
regretted  that  the  first  chapter  is,  from  its  style  and  mode  of  treatment, 
somewhat  calculated  to  repel  the  general  reader.  The  book  is  not  a 
concio  ad  clcmm.  It  rather,  we  apprehend,  addresses  itself  to  the 
ordinary  paterfamilias,  who  is  glad  enough  to  heai-  what  the  successful 
schoolmaster  has  to  tell  him  as  to  the  secrets  of  his  success,  and  who 
wants  practical  advice  about  his  boys'  education.  To  such  an  one  the 
jiwsi- philosophical  character  of  the  chapter  in  which  the  subject  opem 


84 


The  Confcmporayy  Review. 


is  likely  to  have  a  purely  uiystifj-iag  effect;  wliile  the  positiona  estalj- 
lislied  in  it  are  almoat  axioiiifitic,  or  arii  at  least  afice]ited  as  such  by 
those  who  have  reflected  on  the  auliject  at  all.  To  tliem,  therefore, 
the  ehiliorate  deruoustmtion  of  these  is  needless;  to  the  otlier,  tedious. 
Ilis  ohjeijt  ia  to  show  that  education  j^ves  the  mastery  over  time,  and 
iiiast-eiy  over  time  is  t.hy  societ  of  the  su|iL^rioTity  of  class  over  class  in 
the  social  Btale.  That  is  to  say,  {liveit  a  class  in  society  that  kbu  alibnl 
to  spend  ten  years  in  the  acquisitLon  of  skill  and  kTiowled;,'e,  ami 
another  which  can  only  aflbrd  to  spend  half  that  time;  the  former 
will  have  just  so  much  stait  of  the  other  in  the  mvn  of  life,  and, 
mdess  it  re-enact  the  fahle  of  the  hare  and  tortoise,  it  cannot  be  eau^ht 
up  and  distanced  by  it,  J.tut  this  acquisition  of  a  stock  <:if  knowledge 
is  not  all  that  ia  required.  Mere  hard  iatelluctual  eminence,  as  the 
experience  uf  the  pnat  has  shown,  is  not  able  to  rdi&e  or  keep  from 
falling  either  iutlividual  men  or  natious. 

"  jVltliuugh  Iwth  bodily  streiij(th  and  inttillectua]  i9tPon]a;th  art  needed  f^vr 
Work,  and,  ttiihied  Ui  wurk,  lire  the  instrunieufca  ^^y  wdiiuli  t\w  class  mnk  n{ 
individuals  fljid  liatioiis  is  attainwl,  they  drt  iii:>L  ultimiLlt-lv  du'riili;  tht>  late  tif 
their  posse-ssora.  TbcJ'  at*  nothing  More  than  iiistrunietits,  capable  of  abuaeoa 
well  aa  of  use,  lUid  the  fitart  gained  l.iy  them  only  continues  U*  profit  so  lon}r 
as  tile  true  governing  power,  man's,  tilio  self,  that  powpr  by  which  lovo  ami 
hate  exist,  irrespectivo  of  stteiigtli  and  knowledge?,  directs  tlipae  inatmmenU 
ami  tins  stH.rt  to  a  right  L-nd." — {!*,  13.) 

The  mere  production,  therefore,  of  skilled  kbourers, — in  other  wokU, 
mei'9  intellectual  tmintng, — is  not  ail,  or  even  half  of  what  is  wanted, 
if  anything  really  great  or  good  is  to  be  productjd.  To  accomplish 
this,  the  perverted  life-powers  require  replanting.  "  Man's  nature 
wants  to  cast  mit  false  feeling,  and  to  feel  rightly,  to  love  and  hate 
truly,  from  its  own  inward  e.?sence;" 'and  to  a  certain  extent  the.'se, 
the  really  guiding  powers  of  life,  can  be  trained,  as  well  as  the 
instrumental  ones,  i.e.,  the  intellectual  faculties.  This  training  is 
education. 

"  True  cdn<Mi.tiAn  ia  nothing  loas  than  bringing  everythinf;(  that  men  havn 
Iramt  from  God  or  from  pxpet-icnrt.'  to  hasir  litat  upon  the  mond  and  spiritual 
being  by  means  of  a  Wpll-KriverntHl  siKiet;^'  and  lieiiltliy  diai.'iplilia,  sn  that  it 
shoulil  lovo  and  h.ito  ari>;ht  ;  rinti  throuj^di  tin*,  secondly,  making  the  body 
Hiid  intellect  jwrfect,  aa  inatnunwiita  ncecesmy  for  ciirni'iri^  on  tfao  work  of 
healthy  progress ;  tmining  tlie  character,  tlie  intellect,  the  budy,  eiuib 
through  tliG  means  adapted  to  Hjach." — fP.   17-) 

Thcise  years  of  training,  then,  create  the  difference  iu  the  long  run 
between  man  and  man.  They  do  not  guarantee  perfection,  for  they 
may  be  niiserably  misused.  And  just  as  the  excellence  of  the  indi- 
vidual choi-acter  is  affected  for  better  or  worse  Iiy  this  training  or  its 
abgence,  so  the  position  of  eadi  nation  m  the  scale  of  real  worth  tunis 
upon  the  exceUenee  or  deficiency  of  the  traininn;  it  gives  its  youtlu 


I 


Education  and  School.  85 

For  a  great  scliool  is  indeed  a  heart,  propellinji  life-blood  throuj,'li  the 
IxMly  politic.  If  the  heart  be  diseased,  so  will  be  its  blood.  These 
years  of  training,  then,  are  the  all-imi)ortant  years  of  life,  never  to  be 
repeated,  never  to  be  caught  up  if  thrown  away.  "  As  is  the  boy,  so 
is  the  man ;  and  education  is  nothing  less  than  the  presiding  power 
that  determines  the  fate  of  both.  Education  is,  training  true  life." — 
(P.  19.) 

The  training  of  life  during  the  years  allotted  to  education  depends 
on  the  conditions  under  which  life  is  passed.  That  is  to  say,  it  is  not 
only  the  course  of  instruction,  or  the  discipline,  or  the  amount  of 
masters'  vigilance  which  makes  up  each  boy's  education ;  but  e^'cry- 
thing  with  which  he  comes  in  contact,  however  ajiparently  trivial  and 
unimportant.  Indeed,  these  apparent  trivialities,  and,  so  to  speak, 
ancillary  featiires  in  the  training,  are  perhaps  as  important  in  their 
general  influence  as  any;  for  tlie  formation  of  character  is  not  the 
result  of  direct  teaching.  Neither  men  nor  boys  can  be  taught  virtue  ; 
they  must  be  habituated  to  it,  and  grow  up  insensibly  into  it.  If, 
then,  we  would  have  our  boys  grow  up  to  l)e  true  men  (and  truth 
carries  most  of  the  other  virtues  of  the  personal  character  in  its  train), 
we  must  surround  them  with  an  atmosphere  of  truth.  This  axiom 
Air.  Thring  embodies  in  the  following  canons,  whicli  almost  form  the 
key-note  of  the  whole  work : — 

"No  falseness  in  the  government,  no  falseness  in  the  working  plnn,  in  or 
oat  of  school,  can  make  boys  true.     Whatever  is  professed  must  be  done. 

"  If  a  Bcliool  professes  to  teach,  then  every  boy  must  have  hie  share  of 
teaching;  there  must  be  no  kjiowledge-scranible,  or  the  untruth  will  make 
iteelf  felt. 

"  If  a  school  professes  to  train,  then  every  boy  raust  be  really  known,  his 
wants  supplied,  his  character  consulted,  or  the  untnith  will  make  itself  felL 

"  If  a  school  professes  to  board  Ixjys,  then  every  boy  must  find  proper  food 
and  proper  lotlging,  and  no  meanness,  or  the  untruth  will  make  itself  felt. 

"  A  sufBcient  number  of  masters,  variety  of  occupation,  a  feeling  of  being 
known  and  cared  for,  a  spot  free  from  intnision,  however  small,  are  neces- 
sities in  a  good  school ;  and  the  want  of  these,  or  of  any  of  the  other 
requirements  for  training  and  teaching  i)roj)erly,  is  a  sort  of  acted  falsehood, 
for  that  which  is  professed  is  not  done." — (P.  22.) 

This  is  plain  speaking,  and  without  jdedging  ourselves  to  all  the 
details  of  the  last  paragraph  as  necessarj'  symbol izations  of  truth,  we 
heartily  accept  the  principle.  Nay,  more ;  we  believe  that  the  prin- 
ciple really  and  honestly  can-ied  out  in  every  school,  as  far  as  its 
light  and  its  capacities  extend,  would  lie  i)roductive  of  a  very  much 
higher  tone  in  the  education  of  the  youth  of  the  middle  class  in_this 
country.  But  we  are  not  prepared  to  rise  with  Mr.  Thring  "  upon  a 
wind  of  prophecy,"  and  to  assert  that  where  this  is  the  case, — this 
adoption  of  truth  as  the  leaven  of  the  entire  institution, — 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


86 


"  Thenthehoy'dnllegiancD  Iwcoraea  diift  to  the  commnTi  stani1aT(l,Tiotto  the 
trajtoT  who  betrays  it ;  is  due  to  the  ^ciml  caiisL',  utit  to  the  menu  cowarfl 
who  (leaerta  it ;  is  due  to  thi^  tnie  friends  imd  tt-ue  tneri  who  wotk  -with  him^ 
tiol,  Uj  the  tap-tucilii  hcCoRa  wliuse  ideal  is  a  tapatei'.  Tlieii  the  hoj-S  atnoUgst 
theniseivi.-a  M'ill  tiphold  llieii"  laws,  jilst  its  EnylislUncu  will  iipliold  theirs,  and 
think  it  no  shame  to  mako  thieves  and  traitors  know  their  jiliice." — (P.  28.) 

Are  we  here  to  empheiaize  the  word  "is  due"?  If  bo,  "we  gladly  con- 
cede that,  ti  priori,  "we  sliould  believe  that  truth  ought  to  eapendtir 
truth,  that  confidence  should  be  reciprocfited  by  tiuatworthiriesa, 
tfiaguaiiiiiiity,  irnd  unselfishness  by  loyalty.  But  huw  abunt  the  reJil  I 
Can  it  be  that  Mr.  Thring's  experience  bears  out  to  the  full  this 
chartning  ideal  ?  for  that  he  has  dcnie  his  part  in  the  Imrgain  is  certain. 
If  zeal  iintl  truth  and  strajj^httorw&rdness  and  disiiitefestedness  "will 
elicit  tlie  corresponding'  qualities  univ^sttUy  from  the  boys  in  whose 
behalf  these  are  exercised,  Uppingham  should  he  the  paradise  of 
schoiDls,  Perlmpa  it  is.  But  we  fear  the  experience  of  other  school- 
mastera,  equally  hirrh-minded  with  Mr.  Thring,  will  not  wholly  bear 
this  out.  With  the  better  portion  nf  the  schotd  it  will;  that  ia,  Tiith 
iL  siiiiiU  minority  (jihi-q !  how  small  in  proportion !) — thoroughly  and 
fully:  to  some  extent — for  it  is  curious  to  obaeiwe  how  halt-virtuous 
hoys  can  lie  without  apparently  feeling  the  utter  incuusistency  of  sudi 
a  coui'sej— -to  some  extent,  it  will  benr  it  out  witli  the  majority.  But 
is  there  not  a  large  residuum  in  every  school  who  are  incapable  o!' 
any  such  reci]irocity  of  nobleness  ?  Is  there  no  such  thing  aa  "  the 
natural  though  corrupt  love  of  the  lie  itself"^  la  tlie  innate  way- 
wardness of  boyhood  no  disturbing  cause  to  this  Utopia  of  schoolboy 
pei-fectiou  ? 

With  this  proWso,  then,  we  accept  Mr.  Thring's  canons  of  truth, 
and  proceed  with  him  to  npply  them  to  the  practical  working  of  the 
school.  In  training,  whether  it  be  atldetes,  race-horses,  or  boys,  the 
tniiner  is,  perhaps,  the  nii>st  important  peraonage.  To  apply  the  test 
of  truth,  then,  to  this  training  staffj  Mi'.  Thring  lays  down  the  doctrine 
thnt  in  a  great  school  there  will  be  a  permanent  staff  of  masters,  "with 
their  iucomes  ilepeiidiug  upon  their  work.  Teaching  is  not  a  mere 
pouring  of  knowledge  into  receptive  minds.  Were  this  the  cjvse,  it 
might  fairly  be  reganled  as  a  plestsing  and  useful  mode  of  filling  up 
the  vacant  tijjio  between  the  takiijg  tlie  degree  and  the  entrance  upon 
the  liie-]jrofes8ion,  which  is  the  li-jlit  in  which  many  youtiy  Uieu 
bearing  their  academic  honours  thick  upon  them  do  regtu-d  it.  But 
this  is  not  teaching. 

"Teaching  is  «  life-long  learning  how  to  deal  Ttnth  human  minds.  As 
infinite  at  the  human  mind  is  in  it.s  variety  so  imght  tht  resources  of  the 
tftfwhera  to  be.  Tlie  more  stupid  the  pupils^  tlie  mwv  skill  is  rwiuirwi  to  make 
tlu'iii  learn.  And  thus  it  Luines  to  pitss  that,  wlidat  the  mere  possession  of 
knowledge  is  enough  to  ti'ach  advnuced  L'hiasi.'a  {if  it  ia  riglit  to  profiinu  thu 


4 


J 


Education  and  School.  87 

word  by  calling  pouring  knowledge  into  troughs  teaching),  the  teaching  little 
boys  and  stupid  boya  and  low  classes  well,  is  a  thing  of  wonderful  skilL" 
—(P.  110.) 

This  knowledge  and  skill  does  not,  as  a  rule,  come  by  intuition. 
There  are,  indeed,  instances  wliere  a  man  seems  to  possess  the  secret 
instinctively ;  but  ordinarily  it  is  an  experience  purchased,  like  every 
other  experience,  by  time  and  practice  and  failure  and  perseverance. 
A  schoolmaster,  then,  ought  not  to  be  a  bird  of  passage.  If  he  is, 
besides  the  crudeness  of  his  novice-attempts  at  teaching,  and  the 
harm,  or  at  least  the  little  good,  that  such  efforts  produce  on  his  pupils, 
be  cannot  all  at  once  so  place  himself  en.  rapport  with  his  pupils  as  to 
establish  that  sympathy  between  him  and  them  which  is  essential  to 
leal  teaching :  for,  as  Mr.  Thring  truly  observes,  "  the  way  even  to  the 
head  is  through  the  heart." 

But  how  are  we  to  secure  this  permanence  ?  The  great  public 
schools  can  do  it,  for  they  can  hold  out  adequate  remuneration  to  all 
their  working  staff.  But  even  the  universities  are  unable  to  retain  the 
services  of  competent  tutors  and  lecturers.  Oxford  at  this  moment 
presents  the  spectacle  of  colleges  officered  from  outside  of  their  own 
list  of  Fellows,  and  the  cry  is  still,  "  More  residents !"  The  truth  is 
that  this  is  an  age  of  restless  activity.  "Every  man  for  himself"  is 
the  order  of  the  day.  Among  young  men  especially,  a  mercenary 
spirit,  or,  if  this  be  too  harsh  a  term,  a  keen  sense  of  the  market 
value  of  their  services,  and  a  righteous  determination  to  do  nothing 
which  does  not  pay  them  well,  is  widely  spread.  How  are  good 
assistant  masters  to  be  secured  ?  Mr.  Thring  replies,  by  making  their 
remuneration  depend  directly  on  their  work — that  is  to  say,  by  making 
them  all  house  masters.  He  is  against  stipendiary  masters;  their 
tendency  is  to  become  mere  hirelings.  It  may  not  be  a  high  motive, 
but  to  feel  that  one's  zeal  and  success  directly  affect  one's  prospects 
for  the  better,  is  after  all  an  appeal  to  human  nature  as  it  is.  "  At 
least  it  gives  men  an  interest  in  their  work  and  its  success,  and  makes 
toil  sweeter  when  toil  brings  its  visible  reward." — (P.  106.) 

The  next  point  as  regards  masters  is,  that  they  shall  not  have  more 
boys  to  deal  with  than  each  can  attend  to  individually.  Proof  of  so 
obvious  a  proposition  is,  one  would  think,  needless;  and  yet  how 
entirely  has  this  clear  principle  been  overlooked  in  our  greatest  public 
schools !  No  master,  however  herculean  in  working  power,  can  get 
through  more  than  a  certain  amount  of  work  in  a  given  time.  So,  on 
the  other  hand,  it  is  of  the  nature  of  the  boy  to  shirk  that  which,  though 
legally  due,  will,  according  to  the  doctrine  of  chances,  in  all  probability 
not  be  required  of  him.  As  to  any  individual  knowledge  of  the  boys  of 
liis  class,  or  any  attempt  to  adapt  his  teaching  accordingly,  a  master 
with  an  ovei^own  class  is  simply  powerless.     "VVliether  twenty-five 


88 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


is  tlie  ma^iuuiii  iiuiiit>er  that  can  I>e  taught  classica  by  one  man  at  a 
time,  is  a  comparatively  immaterial  point,  and  may  fairly  be  qiiestioued. 
The  principle,  liuyever,  is  iiTefrayiible.  A  master  wlia  is  to  tench 
must  ha^'e  an  individual  knowledge  of  the  mental  cundition  of  uach 
boy  in  his  class.  lie  must  know  his  capacity,  and  be  able  to  deter- 
miue  with  pToxinmte  acciimcy  whether  hi.?  shottcominys  ai'e  the 
result  of  (lulness,  or  lethargy  of  mind  or  mamier,  or  of  ii.tleuess,  or 
inattention.  Individutil  knowledge  of  hta  boya  is  the  stine  gva  rum  of 
the  good  class  master,  just  as  iiidi\iduftl  knoTi'ledge  of  the  cbaTac-ter  of 
each  boy  in  the  school  is  the  sine  qua  fum  of  the  good  head-master. 
And  we  would  venture  to  go  a  step  further  than  Mr.  Tliring,  and  say, 
as  a  clasa  must  he  limited  by  the  capacitj'  of  its  master  to  houdle  it 
indi'^idually,  so  must  a  school  be  litoitcwl  to  auch  a  number  of  Imys 
as  ita  head-master  can  know  individually;  and  every  school  wliioh 
exceeds  such  linn't  has  lost  its  element  of  truth,  and  is  an  imposture. 

Thus  mncli  for  the  trainers ;  now  for  the  maddnery  of  training.  On 
this  point  Mr.  ThrSug's  first  tlictimi  ia  perhaps  the  ]irominent  feature 
in  his  theory  of  bcIiooI,  at  least  so  far  as  ita  outward  and  visible  form 
is  cunceraeJ.  It  is  this : — "  The  buys  nhall  not  be  forced  to  henl 
together  in  large  rooms,  but  each  have  a  sanctuui  tif  hia  own." 
— (V.  109.) 

To  establitdi  ld8  position,  Mr,  Thrhig  Ijoldly  discards  all  ai-gument 
derived  from  facis  or  exiierience.  Facts  can  be  made  to  tell  any  atoiy 
the  advticflte  iilesises.  When  human  lieings  are  the  Bubjects,  princi- 
jilca  must  l>c  looked  U>  and  tlieir  natuml  rtisidts.  Starting,  then,  on 
this  purely  d,  /wwrt  ground,  be  proceeda  to  argue  that  .as  boys  are 
sent  to  school  to  bo  trained  for  the  duties  of  after  life,  no  hoy  can  be 
expected  to  work  or  livo  under  conditions  wlu«h  then  would  lie 
■wholly  inadmissible,  For  example,  they  are  to  be  tmined  how  to 
study.  This  of  itself  is  a  siiffieiently  strange  and  uncongenial  task  for 
the  young  lad  IVeph  fiimi  home.  He  ia  not  likely  to  do  it  successfully 
under  less  favourable  circumstances  than  trained  men,  with  all  this 
repugnance  to  study  m-erconic,  require,  in  order  to  perfonn  iutel- 
lectual  work.  Timy  reiiuire  qiiiet,  a  ]dace  ol  seclusiou,  and  freedom 
from  mental  distniction.  This,  then,  is  a  thousau(.lfold  more  neces- 
sary fa-v  the  jKior  boy  who  has  everytbiug  to  learn,  and  who  does  not 
yet  know  even  how  t'l  "vvoi'k.  Thi^  difficmlty,  however,  may  be  got 
over  by  the  presence  of  a  master  durittg  hours  of  preparation  and 
work,  so  as  to  oufoire  order  aiul  requini  attention.  Btit  in  a  free 
system  of  school  ailminLHtratinn  a  master  cannot  always  be  present  in 
the  boyg.'  common  mom ;  and  here  the  chief  mischief  is  done  to  tlie 
boy's  jinvate  or  inner  life.  Hei'e  a  large  part  of  his  leianre  must  he 
spent,  and  here  he  ha.s  no  escape  from  hearing  or  seeing  whatever  the 
worst  boy  there  dare.9  say  or  dn,  or  from  the  tyranny  ol'  the  most 


Education  and  School.  89 

inveterate  bully  in  the  place.  But  this  is  no  trfeiniug  for  manhood. 
These  are  not  the  customs  of  life  in  manhood.  No  man  is  obliged 
always  to  herd  with  men  whom  he  abhors  or  fears.  But  besides,  one 
of  the  great  duties  of  life  is  to — 

"  Ponder  our  ways,  to  withdraw  from  the  press  of  busy  life,  and  in  our 
hearts  weigh  well  what  is  true  and  what  is  not  true  in  the  hurry  and  ghtter 
of  the  world.  And  school  sometimes  trains  boys  for  this,  by  never  allowing 
them  a  moment  to  carry  out  this  great  duty.  Yet  how  needful  it  is  for  the 
little  exile  from  home,  with  strange  new  life  among  strangers  round  about 
him  for  the  first  time,  to  have  a  spot,  however  small,  which  shall  be  liis 
own,  where  he  shall  he  safe  with  his  hooks  and  his  letters,  where  he  can 
think,  and  weep  if  need  be,  or  rejoice  unmolested,  and  escape  for  a  season 
out  of  the  press  of  life  about  him,  and  the  strange  hardness  of  a  new 
existence,  into  a  Uttle  world  of  his  own,  a  <juasi-'hoiaa,  to  find  breathing 
space,  and  gather  strength  before  he  comee  out  again.  Nowhere  on  earth  is 
six  or  eight  feet  square  more  valuable  than  at  school,  the  little  bit  wliich  is  a 
boy's  own,  the  rock  which  the  waves  do  not  cover. "^ — (P.  140.) 

With  much  of  this  we  cordially  agree.  We  believe  that  this  seclu- 
sion, or  partial  seclusion,  of  each  boy  as  regards  the  dormitory  arrange- 
ments is,  if  not  a  necessity,  as  Mr.  Thring  would  have  us  believe,  a 
most  desirable  featiae  in  a  great  school.  The  partitioning  off  of  the 
large  room  into  little  compartments  or  cells  of  six  feet  square,  firstly, 
subserves  the  purposes  of  health  by  providing  a  free  oxirrent  of  air, 
which  absolutely  separate  small  bedrooms  could  not  secure ;  secondly, 
of  sufficient  publicity  for  a  reasonably  healthy  public  opinion  to  repress 
vice,  as  well  as  for  the  free  play  of  monitors'  or  prefects'  authority  and 
infiuence  in  its  repression ;  and,  thirdly,  of  sufficient  privacy  for  the 
self-respect  and  protection  of  the  timid  and  helpless.  But  after  all, 
such  protection  and  such  privacy  cannot  be  absolutely  secured  by 
this  arrangement.  Of  this  Mr.  Thring  must  be  fully  aware.  For  no 
punishments,  however  severe  or  liowever  certain  as  the  consequence 
of  detection,  will  deter  boys  from  lireaking  a  rule  if  there  is  a  single 
chance  of  escape ;  and  even  the  most  Argus-eyed  masters  and  the  most 
conscientious  monitors  cannot^  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  exercise 
unremitting  vigilance,  and  preser\'e  the  sanctity  of  each  retreat  abso- 
lutely inviolate  and  free  from  intrusion. 

But  we  entirely  dissent  from  the  separate  study  theorj',  not  only 
because  it  is  a  needless  feature  in  the  economy  of  a  school,  but 
iiecause  we  believe  it  to  be  theoretically  unsound.  We  join  issue 
with  Mr.  Tliring  on  his  main  argument.  We  do  not  admit  that 
Ijecause  school  is  a  training  of  life, — in  other  words,  a  fitting  of  the 
young  boy  to  discharge  the  duties  he  wUI  lie  called  on  as  a  man  to 
perform, — therefore  the  conditions  of  training  should  be  identical  with, 
and  in  no  respect  more  irksome  or  trying  than  the  conditions  tmder 
which  the  man-duties  will  be  performed.    A  great  deal  of  the  disci- 


go 


The  Contempomry  Review. 


pliiie  of  boy-life  is  different  in  hind  frum  the  linhits  or  states  of  uiind 
in  the  grown  rnftn,  to  tlie  devdoiJiuent  of  whicli,  iievei'tlielesg.  that 
dissimilat  tHscipliue  may  in  a  htgli  degree  conduce.  We  will  iiupreas 
Mr.  Thriurt  liirusolf  into  oiir  ser\-ice  to  combat  his  own  atsmneuts. 
He,  brave  man  !  (we  say  it  in  atl  sincerity)  hag  the  courage  to  defy 
the  anathemas  of  sentimentalists,  educational  theorists,  and  tender 
parents,  and  to  avow  himself  a  believer  in  the  rod ;  and  that  not,  as 
19  sometimes  reluctantly  conceded,  a3  the  penalty  for  grave  moral 
delinfj^nencies,  but  as  tlie  natural  and  ^vllo^esome  medicine  for  the 
pettj',  oft-repeated  oil'euces  which  foiiB  the  bulk  of  school  indisci- 
pline. But  how  is  this  discipline  repi-oduced  in  after-life  ?  Simply 
nut  at  all.  The  system  of  liii'ect  rewards  aud  puniehraents  ceases  when 
the  age  of  childhood  closei?.  It  is  a  tramiag  doU'erent  in  kind — fitted 
for  the  boy,  irapoEisible  for  the  man,  liecause  the  two  are  almost  ilif- 
ferent  animals,  with  dill'erent  ideas,  difPereut  sensibilities.  Mr.  Thriug 
justly  ridieul&s  the  notion  that  corporal  j.mnishment  is  degratUiig  to 
the  boy,  because  the  man's  ijistincts  of  seU'-re-^pect  recoil  from  per- 
sonal outiTige;  but  he  practically  falls  into  the  same  fallacy  when  he 
argues  that  because  privacy  and  seclusion  at  will  are  necessities  with 
the  grown  man,  they  are  therefore  indispensable  conditions  of  the 
training  of  young  Ijoys.  Hence  we  dissent,  in  toto,  fix)m  liis  parados: 
ttiat  it  is  the  Little  boys  who  WMit  separate  studie-s  more  than  the 
older  ones.  We  dissent  from  it,  because  we  hold  that  as  the  ordinary 
discipline  and  coercion  of  little  boys  must  cease,  or  become  consi- 
derably relaxed,  in  the  case  of  older  ones,  because  the  older  ones  are 
passing  into  tlie  conditions  of  umnhood ;  so  the  study  is,  if  not  & 
necessity,  at  least  a  lawfid  luxury  for  these  latter,  because  they  have,  or 
ought  to  have,  attained  to  the  habit  of  mind  which,  m  in  the  giiywn 
man,  craves  for  occasional  seclusion,  and  is  abb  to  profit  by  it.  Aud 
this,  btljigs  us  to  a  second  argumeut  against  the  indiscriminate  allot- 
ment of  atutUes  to  all  l>oye,  old  and  young  alike.  Little  boys  are,  of 
all  others,  by  nature  gregarious,  and  never  ao  much  so,  or  perhaps 
with  so  much  advantage,  a?  over  the.  preparation  of  their  lessons. 
Indeed,  a  little  boy,  if  left  to  himself,  and  removed  from  the  assistance 
of  his  immediate  companions  and  classimatcs  during  the  preparation 
of  lessons,  usually  sulves  the  difficulty  by  not  preparing  them  at  all. 
Tlie  truth  is,  he  does  not  know  how  to  set  about  it,  or  if  he  does,  he 
is  staggered  anil  dispirited  by  the  first  difficulty  that  crosses  his  path ; 
and  more  than  that,  be  is  the  very  worst  judge  himself  of  whether, 
and  when,  ho  knows  a  lesson.  Any  schoolmaster  who  has  in  hia 
achonl  a  siilliciently  large  proportion  of  day-boys  or  home-1  ward  era 
will  at  once  appreciate  the  truth  of  this  remark.  He  will  acknow- 
ledge that  they,  as  a  rule,  spend  three  times  as  much  time  over 
preparation    and  in  spite  of  all  the  supposed  advantages  of  privacy. 


Education  and  School,  91 

and  such  assistance  as  judicious  parents  offer  to  smooth  the  path  for 
them,  they  come  considerably  worse  prepared  than  the  boarders  of  the 
same  t^  and  form,  simply  because  they,  by  working  together,  help 
one  another,  and  so  in  no  trifling  degree  teach  one  another.  This 
ad'vantage,  then,  is  absislutely  foregone  by  the  separate  study  system ; 
for  to  say  that  under  it  boys  can  still  study  together  in  the  common 
room  of  their  boarding-house  is  to  condemn  the  study  as  a  tiseless 
luxury ;  if  a  study  is  not  made  to  study  in,  it  belies  its  name,  and  is 
obviously  a  superfluity.  We  admit  that  in  an  ill-governed  boarding- 
house  there  will — perhaps  must  be,  considerable  noise  going  on  around 
them  to  distract  attention  from  work ;  but  we  very  much  doubt 
whetherthe  distraction  is  anything  like  as  dangerous  to  progress  as 
the  opportunities  for  idleness  and  desultoriness  which  the  very  inde- 
pendence of  a  study  engenders  in  the  little  boy,  who  is  naturally  over- 
mastered by  the  passing  temptation  to  be  idle,  and  who  is  not  old 
enough  to  realize  that  the  claims  of  work  are  imperative  and  must 
first  be  satisfied. 

A  more  plausible  argument  in  favour  of  the  separate  study  for  each 
boy,  great  and  small,  is  the  harm  which  the  little  boy  will  receive 
morally  from   unavoidable  contact  with  the  mauvais  sujets  of  the 
common  room,  and  the  necessity  of  a  place  of  retreat  from  some 
bullying  tormentor.     Now  this  is,  beyond  a  doubt,  a  most  important 
consideration ;  but  while  we  at  once  admit  that  such  cases  must  from 
time  to  time  arise  in  all  schools,  and  while  we  deplore  them  as  dread- 
ful evils  where  they  do  occur,  we  cannot  regard  them  as  a  normal  or 
necessary  state  of  tilings,  or  the  public  school  theory  has  broken,  doim. 
Let  us  fairly  face  this  conclusion,  from  which  there  is  no  escape. 
The  essence  of  the  pubhc  school  theorj'  is  government  by  means  of  a 
healthy  public  opinion.     And  the  instrument  by  which  this  theory 
is  worked  is  the  monitor  or  prefect  system.     If,  therefore,  these  are 
powerless, — we  will  not  say  altogether  to  repress  and  eradicate  tliese 
evils,  but  to  minify  them  and  at  least  hold  them  in  decent  check  ;  if 
public  opinion  is  not  healthy  enough  to  frown  down  the  overt  display 
of  the  vices  of  the  worst  members  of  the  community ;  if  the  monitors, 
aided  by  public  opinion,  cannot  hold  out  reasonable  protection  to  the 
young  and  feeble  from  the  bully  and  the  tyrant ;  above  all,  if  the 
oppressed  boy  cannot,  witli  fair  prospect  of  redress,  appeal  to  these 
his  natural  guardians  in  tlip  event  of  insupportable  ill-usage, — then, 
ffe  repeat,  the  public  school  theory  lias  broken  down,  and  we  must 
strike  our  flag,  and  make  our  submission  to  the  amiable  but  weak 
poet  of  Olney  on  the  great  question  of  boy-education. 

Indeed  the  "study  for  all"  theory  is,  whether  consciously  or  un- 
consciously, a  surrender  of  public  education.  It  is  a  transference 
of  home  to  school    But  cui  bono  such  a  transference?     Public  edu- 


92  The  Contemporary  Review. 

cation,  if  it  means  anything,  means  boys  educating  each  other ;  edu- 
cating each  other  by  their  virtues  and  their  vices,  by  their  roughnesses 
and  their  gentlenesses.  If  a  boy  is  to  be  taken  out  of  this  as  much  as 
is  possible,  or  as  much  as  he  likes — and  what  poor  chUd  would  not 
gladly  shun  the  ordeal,  at  least  in  his  early  days  at  school  ? — ^why 
send  him  to  school  at  all  ?  He  can  probably  associate  with  com- 
panions wlien  he  wishes  it,  as  well  at  home  as  at  school ;  while,  as  to 
the  intellectual  training,  it  is  not  so  sucessful,  in  by  far  the  majority 
of  boys  who  are  sulyected  to  it,  as  to  make  it  an  important  element 
in  the  question. 

We  would  rather  lielieve  that  what  Jlr.  Thring  calls  "  the  barrack  " 
theor)',  witli  a  good  master,  capable  of  impressing  somewhat  of  his 
own  spirit  upon  his  boys,  good  monitors,  and  a  decently  sound  public 
opinion,  is  after  all  the  best.  It  may  be  a  somewhat  rough  and  Spar- 
tan training  of  the  character;  but  it  forces  a  boy  to  divest  himself 
promptly  of  his  peculiarities ;  it  makes  him  rub  off  the  angularitiea 
of  his  character — and  what  boy  comes  straight  from  home  to  school 
without  more  or  less  of  these  ?  It  teaches  him  to  adapt  himself  to 
circnmstances ;  it  knocks  the  conceit  out  of  liim ;  in  a  word,  it  engen- 
ders that  avTapKtSa,  that  self-completeness  and  adaptability  to  diverse 
circumstances,  which  so  completely  marks  off  the  public  scliool  man 
from  the  man  wlio  has  either  been  brought  up  at  home,  or  at  the 
private  tutor's,  Jiowever  excellent,  amiable,  and  gentlemanly  he  may 
be.  It  is,  we  rejieat,  a  Spartan  kind  of  training,  and  it  has  often  gone 
to  our  heart  to  see  the  poor  little  new-boy,  forlorn,  frightened,  miser- 
able, amid  the  nnsympathizing  throng  in  the  school-hall.  If,  hoT- 
ever,  lie  has  any  stuff  in  him  (and  if  he  has  not,  school  is  not  the  place 
for  him  as  a  boy,  nor  the  wide  world  as  a  man),  it  is  surprising  bow 
soon  he  rises  superior  to  his  difficidties.  And  after  liis  first  term,  he 
returns  with  the  home-delicacy  of  sentiment  indeed  rubbed  off,  never 
to  revive  till  manhond  reawakens  it ;  but  not,  as  we  earnestly  hope 
and  believe,  necessarily  with  a  seared  conscience,  or  a  vindictive  sense 
of  cruel  wTong  sustainetl ;  rather  with  the  glad  consciousness  of  bug- 
bears fought  and  vanfiuishcd,  of  difficulties  surmounted,  and  moral 
sinew  developed. 

We  cannot  but  feel  that  the  unsound  point  in  Mr.  Thring's  school 
theorj'  is  an  exaggerated  individualism.  This  is  not  only  a  fault  on 
the  right  side,  but  one  into  which  a  conscientious  man  is  especially 
likely  to  lie  driven  by  the  vicious  multitudinism  of  the  great  public 
schools.  Their  numbers,  combined  vdth  their  frequently  very  inade- 
quate officering  as  regards  masters,  have  a  direct  tendency  to  deal  with 
boys  in  masses,  and  to  lose  sight  altogether  of  anything  like  individual 
character  and  individual  training,  llie  corrective  to  this  defect  in 
their  case  is  the  tutorial  as  contrasted  with  the  magisterial  element 


Education  and  School.  93 

The  tutor  (also  a  master),  under  ■whom  each  hoy  is  necessarily  placed, 
supplies  to  some  extent  the  personal  tie  wliich  sliould  exist  between 
master  and  pupil,  if  the  hoy  is  to  he  really  influenced  for  good  by  the 
master,  as  well  as  con-ects  the  deficient  intellectual  training  wliich 
overgrown  classes  must  produce.  To  the  non-public  school  mind, 
however,  this  seems  hut  a  clumsy  mode  of  introducing  the  element  of 
individual  care  and  individual  training  into  a  school  We  are  not  at 
all  surprised  that  Mr.  Thring  should  have  at  once  felt  this  deficiency 
in  the  old  public  school  idea,  and,  having  felt  it,  that  he  should  have 
resolved  on  providing  an  antidote.  We  think,  however,  that  he  has 
carried  this  into  the  opposite  extreme.  We  go  with  him  entirely 
when  he  speaks  of  the  necessity  of  restricting  the  numbers  in  each 
class  to  the  capacity  of  one  man  to  teach  them  adequately ;  we  recc^- 
nise  that  in  the  over-grown  class — 

"The  lectarer  must  insist  on  a  certain  quantum  of  visible  work  being  pro- 
duced by  all,  and  take  no  excuse  if  it  is  not  forthcoming.  For  he  'has  no 
time  to  judge  whether  everybody  can  or  cannot  do  this  quantity  always. 
Everything  would  go  to  pieces  if  he  began  making  distinctions  between  the 
1)03:8,  and  he  would  lay  himself  open  to  unlimited  imposition." 

On  the  other  hand,  when  the  master  has  a  form  of  manageable 
numbers, — 

"He  ia  able  to  make  himself  acquainted  with  the  powers  and  attainments  of 
eyeiy  boy  under  him,  and  as  for  aa  lus  judgment  goes,  to  apportion  fairly 
their  tasks  to  each,  to  help  them  when  needfid,  to  deal  with  them  singly, 
■weighing  each  case;  and  though  his  judgment  may  err  in  some  instances, 
eiTOTS  of  judgment  are  very  different  things  from  arbitrary  routine," — 
(P.  131.) 

The  same  principle,  no  doubt,  is  also  true  in  its  degree  as  applied 
to  punishments.  In  the  adjudication  of  these  a  wise  master  will 
eiereise  discrimination,  forming  his  judgment  according  to  his  indi- 
\idual  knowledge  of  the  culprit's  character.  Though  here  we  at  once 
step  on  very  delicate  ground,  as  no  animal  is  so  keeidy  alive  to,  and 
at  the  same  time  tolerant  of  strict  impartial  justice,  even  if  it  amount 
to  severity,  as  the  sclioolboy.  Nevertheless,  this  very  sense  of  justice 
in  them  recognises  the  differences  in  different  cases,  and  endorses  a 
master's  distinctions  in  dealing  with  them  diffei'ently,  provided  they 
are  made  with  wisdom  and  sound  discrimination,  and,  above  all  things, 
with  a  corresponding  sense  of  justice  on  his  part.  Individualism  too 
may,  to  a  certain  extent,  be  carried  safely  into  the  playgi-ound.  Boys' 
tastes  undoubtedly  widely  differ,  and  it  is  right  that  in  the  relaxation 
hours  the  boy  should  be  permitted  to  indidge  his  taste.  Hence  we 
admit  that  where  possible,  among  the  more  impoitant  buildings  of  a 
school, — 

"  Provision  should  be  made  for  a  school  library-,  museum,  workaliop,  gym- 
nasium, sAvinmiing  bath,  fives  courts,  01  imy  othur  pursuits  that  conduce  to 


94  The  Contemporary  Review. 

a  healthy  life.  The  welfiire  of  the  majority  greatly  depends  on  sometliing 
being  prorided  to  interest  every  kind  of  disposition  and  taste.  Plenty  of 
occupation  is  the  one  Beciet  of  a  good  and  healthy  moral  life." — (P.  1 79.) 

But  along  with  this  freedom  of  action  to  each  individual  to  foUow 
Ills  oivTi  bent,  we  unhesitatingly  hold  the  wisdom  and  justice  of  com- 
pulsory participation  on  the  part  of  all  during  a  fraction  of  the  leisure 
time  in  the  recognised  games  of  tlie  community ;  first,  because  the 
community  has  a  right  to  the  services  and  sympathy  of  its  individual 
members.     That  is  to  say,  if  cricket,  for  example,  is  recc^ised  as  the 
one  great  game  of  the  school,  every  boy,  in  right  of  his  allegiance  to 
the  republic  to  which  he  belongs,  ought,  in  all  fairness,  to  support 
and  advance  tliis  object  by  liis  own  personal  services.     But  we  hold 
this  chieily  in  the  interests  of  the  individual  boys  themselves.     Few 
boys  like  the  rudiments  of  auj'tliiug,  whether  it  be  the  Greek  alphabet 
or  fielding  out  at  cricket.     It  is  therefore  well  for  them  that  they 
should  be  required  by  a  superior  poAver  to  apply  themselves  to  these 
disagreeables.     Eventually  they  reap  tlie  fruit  of  their  distasteful 
labour ;  in  the  one  case  in  intellectual  culture — in  increased  manli- 
ness in  the  other.     But  chiefly  it  is  good  for  the  indi\'idual  boy,  bow- 
ever  young,  to  learn  the  duty  of  making  his  self-good  bow  to  the  good 
of  the  commonwetilth  to  which  he  belongs.     It  is  a  first  lesson  in  self- 
denial  ;  and  it  is  none  the  worse  that  this  sliould  be  exercised  on 
behalf  of  the  community,  instead  of  some  other  individual  like  him- 
self :  but  this  self-denial  is  the  foundation  of  true  cspnV  de  corps.    Tliig 
tribute,  however,  should  not  encroach  unduly  upon  each  boy's  fund 
of  leisure,  if  other  pursuits  have  gi-eater  channs  for  him.     He  iriU 
enter  on  these  pursuits  with  all  the  greater  zest  for  having  thus  paid 
his  due  of  homage  to  the  interests  of  the  body ;  provided  the  homage 
is  not  over  bm-densome,  aud  does  not  degenerate  into  bondage    But 
a  schoolboy  ought  never  to  foi^et  that  he  is  but  a  unit  of  a  great 
whole, — that  he  is  a  member  of  a  body ;  and  hence  it  is  that  we  dis- 
sent, in  toto,  from  any  plan  which  tends  to  detach  a  boy,  daring  the 
hours  he  has  to  himself,  fmm  the  community  and  its  duties  and  inte- 
rests, aud  to  encourage  him,  however  indirectly,  to  isolation  from  hia 
fellows.     Tliis  we  believe  to  be  exa^erated  incUvidualiam,  and  though 
it  may  practically  work  well  fur  the  present,  and  will  undoubtedly 
find  great  acceptance  with  tlie  indulgent  tenderness  of  parents,  we 
believe  that  it  is  a  cutting  olf  of  a  valuable,  though  often  unpalatable, 
ingredient  in  school  education  ;  and  we  venture  to  predict  that  in  tie 
long  run  it  will  not  produce  as  sterling  an  article  as  the  harder 
discipline  of  training  from  the  earliest  years  to  accommodate  oneaelf 
to  circumstances,  liowcAcr  unpromising,  and  to  adapt  oneself  to  the 
ways  of  those,  however  uncoiigeniid,  among  whom  one's  lot  in  life 
is  ca-st. 


Education  and  School.  95 

But  while  we  thus  frankly  differ  from  Mr.  Thring  ou  one  important 
point  of  detail,  we  thank  him  for  his  book.  We  have  forborne  com- 
ment on  many  of  its  important  features,  because  to  handle  the  subject 
at  all  worthily  exceeds  the  limits  of  a  brief  review.  We  have  forborne 
to  follow  him  through  hia  masterly  defence  of  the  classical  languages 
as  the  basis  of  school  education ;  or  through  his  manful  and  fearless 
grappling  with  the  difficult  question  of  school  punishments.  Suffice 
it  to  say  that  in  most  of  what  he  says  on  either  head  we  heartily  con- 
cur. Nor  have  we  attempted  to  criticise  the  hints  he  has  thro^vn  out 
elsewhere  for  the  rehabilitation  of  old  foundations,  and  for  breathing 
into  them  life  and  activity.  But  ilr.  Thring  not  only  deserves  our 
thanks  for  a  piece  of  very  pleasant  and  suggestive  reading  upon  a 
subject  in  which  all  profess  interest.  He  deserves  the  thanks  of  all 
who  heheve  that  there  is  enormous  power  for  education  scattered  up 
and  do"wn  the  country,  in  the  shape  of  the  old  endowed  schools, 
waiting  to  he  utilized.  Mr.  Thring  has  shown  in  act,  as  well  as  in 
word,  how  this  may  be  done ;  if  not  m  all,  at  least  in  many  of  our 
provincial  grammar  schools.  In  the  conflicting  clamour  for  public 
school  education  and  modem  education,  the  poor  old  grammar  schools 
and  their  capabilities  for  good  have  been  forgotten.  It  is  refreshing 
to  find  some  one  who  believes  in  them  still,  and  who  can  give  a  reason 
of  the  faith  that  is  in  him.  Mr.  Thring  deser\'e3  the  famous  resolu- 
tion of  thanks  accorded  by  the  Eoman  Senate  to  Tereutius  Varro  after 
Cannae,  "  because  he  had  not  despaired  of  the  republic."  It  is  pleasant 
to  see  a  man  derive  strength  and  encouragement  iu  his  work  from  the 
associations  of  the  past,  for  they  are  indeed  a  mighty  engine  for  good 
to  those  who  know  how  to  use  them. 

"  Kot  in  the  least  on  this  account  are  the  old  foundations  a  saving  power 
in  the  land.  They  are  strong  in  the  fact  that  their  origin  dates  from  the  libe- 
rahty  of  the  dead.  Tlieir  roots  are  in  the  hallowed  past ;  and  out  of  the 
grave  of  great  and  good  men — great  and  good  at  all  events  eo  far  as  they 
grudged  not  money  in  a  good  cause — grows  the  shelter  under  which  the 
Yfork  of  education  is  carried  on.  Tliose  who  heheve  in  education,  behcve 
also  in  this,  and  feel  a  deeper,  truer  sense  of  life  and  work  from  carrying  on 
a  good  man's  purpose ;  are  freer  from  not  being  beholden  to  living  task- 
masters ;  are  chastened  into  more  patient  endurance  by  the  memory  of  the 
trust  they  have  received.  It  gladdens  and  cheera  them  that  they  are  links 
in  a  chain  of  life  and  light, — '  VUai  lamjiada  traduni,' — and  not  merely 
Bitting  in  the  temple  as  money-cliangers." — (P.  119.) 

"WTio  knows  if,  after  all,  the  old  grammar  schools,  reformed  and 
reinspired,  are  not  to  be  the  Dctis  ex  tnachina  of  upper  middle-class 
education  ?  Eeform  they  most,  if  not  all,  need— perhaps  on  a  veiy 
extensive  scale.  But  reform  does  not  necessarily  mean  revolution ; 
and  there  is  no  reason  why  at  least  a  large  number  of  them  shoiild  not 
be  worked  on  the  principles  advocated  in  this  book,  and  have  a  grand 
career  of  usefulness  opened  out  before  them. 


.NJ 


DR.  PUSEY  ON  DANIEL  THE   PKOPHET. 


panrtl  riK  Pre}>Mi  Jiiitt  Ifdnr^  tfrt(c«r*rl  *i  (V  Dlvlnlrn  Sehinil  nf  Jlu 
Vniv^miif  ')f  O-rfmrH,  IfilS  C^pisni  ^igla.    By  tho  tiet,  E.  Tfi.  f-vtxt, 

Ji  D  ,    ICvglus.    PrnfiiHur  uf    Hi>hrEW,    axri  Ciuon  uf  CiLTLtC  Cbuivli- 
J.  H.  &  J.    I^aTkcr,   Llilonl ;  KivingloiM,  LnnrluD.    IsM. 

ADEQUATELY  anil  truly  \o  critieise  a  work  likii  LMb  withiu  tUi; 
eampasa  usually  allowed  to  criticism  in  a  Review  is  almost  out 
of  tte  question.  We  shall  not  attempt  to  do  more  than  notice  some 
of  its  most  salient  arguments,  and  the  general  piin(.'ii.iles  of  raiticism 
and  int*;rprelatioii  uu  whicli  it  proceeds. 

Dr.  Pusey  teUa  us  iii  his  Preface  that  these  Lectures  were  planned 
as  his  "  contribution  against  the  tide  of  acepticiam  which  the  publicatiuii 
of  the  '  Essays  and  Keviewa '  let  loose  npou  the  young  and  instructed." 
But  whilst  "others,"  he  says, "  wlio  ^Tofce  in  defence  of  the  faith,  en^ij^ed 
in  larger  subjects,  I  took  for  my  province  one  more  couHned  and  dctinite 
iBSue.  I  selected  the  Book  of  Daniel,  because  imlHjlieviug  ci'itics 
considered  their  attacks  npnn  it  to  he  one  of  their  greatcFit  triumplia." 
But  tho^lJ,'h  he  has  so  far  appjirently  nan-owed  the  range  of  his 
argument  as  to  confine  it  to  a  single  one  of  the  pohits  at  issue  in  that 
contTOversy^  he  has  Ijrought  to  bear  upon  this  pttint  a  perfect  ent'vclo- 
piedia  of  leamin*^.  He  has  cast  into  his  volume  tbe  labour  of  a  life- 
time. It  is  by  far  the  mast  complete  work  wliich  has  yet  appeared. 
uo  Continental  ivTiter  haying  han<lled  the  subject  with  anything  like 
the  same  fulness  or  breadth  of  treatment.  In  England  we  need 
scarcely  say  it  is  unrivalled.  Eew  mea  amongst  us  could  have  pro- 
duced such  a  book.  It  is  a  moounient  of  learned  industry,  whicli 
reminds  ua  rather  of  ancient  folios  than  of  modern  octavos.     I3ut  ttiis 


Dr.  Puscy  on  Daniel  the  Prophet.  97 

exliaustire  method  of  treatment,  it  must  be  confessed,  has  its  draw- 
backs. It  is  exhausting  as  well  as  exhaustive.  The  reader  must 
labour  as  well  as  the  author,  and  his  patieuce  is  severely  tried. 
He  is  not  charmed  to  foi^et  the  ruggedness  of  the  path  either  by 
lucidity  of  arrangement,  or  by  graces  of  style.  The  ailment  is  often 
embarrassed  by  the  accumulation  of  matter,  the  style  is  cramped  and 
Lea\7-,  and  a  lai^e  portion  of  the  criticism  is  uninviting,  and,  to  the 
majority  of  readers,  even  unintelligible.  Still,  in  spite  of  tliese 
drawbacks,  the  great  value  of  the  hook  cannot  be  questioned. 
^Miether  we  agree  with  Dr.  Pusey's  conclusions  or  not,  we  must  be 
glad  to  find  thus  collected  for  us  in  one  volume  all  that  has  been 
wTitten,  all  that  can  by  possibility  be  brought  to  bear  upon  the 
authorship  and  age  of  a  book,  presenting,  on  any  hypothesis  as  to  its 
origin,  so  many  remarkable  features  as  the  Book  of  Daniel.  Every 
day  widens  and  deepens  the  interest  felt  on  such  subjects  amongst 
educated  men.  And  numbers,  we  cannot  doubt,  have  already  turned 
eagerly  to  this  volume,  attracted  to  it  not  only  by  the  name  and  repu- 
tation of  the  author,  but  also  by  the  importance  of  the  subject,  and 
the  keen  desire  to  ascertain  what  can-  really  be  said  as  to  the  date  and 
genuineness  of  one  of  the  most  remarkable  books  of  Scripture. 

We  wish  we  could  speak  as  favourably  of  the  general  tone  and 
temper  of  Dr.  Pusey's  volume  as  we  can  of  its  learning  and  com- 
pleteness. But  unhappily,  its  greatest  defect  is  the  bitterness  of  its 
language, — the  indiscriminate  censure  with  which  all  are  assailed 
who  have  ventured  to  entertain  any  doubts  as  to  the  time  when  the 
Book  of  Daniel  was  written.  The  chaise  of  wilful  blindness,  so 
repeatedly  brought  against  those  whose  misfortmie  it  is  to  be  Dr. 
Pusey's  opponents,  is  rather  apt  to  enlist  sympathy  on  their  side  than 
to  con^nnce  us  that  their  assailant  is  right.  Instinctively  we  feel 
that  such  charges  betray  a  weakness  somewhere.  Truth,  we  say  to 
ourselves,  is  calm,  majestic,  unruffled,  not  impatient,  because  fearless 
of  consequence.  Is  it  wise,  we  ask,  to  be  angry  with  the  storm 
vhich  shakes  our  dwellings  ?  Is  it  not  better  to  examine  whether  the 
foundation  is  secure,  and  the  walls  so  built  as  to  keep  out  the  blast  ? 

We  lament  these  defects  the  more,  because  we  have  not  forgotten 
that  Dr.  Pusey  could  once  write  in  a  verj'  different  strain.  Thirty- 
seven  years  ago  there  appeared  a  work  from  his  pen,  entitled  "  An 
Historical  Enquiry  into  the  probable  Causes  of  the  Nationalist 
Character  lately  predominant  in  the  Tiieology  of  Germany."  Let  any 
one,  after  reading  the  "  Lectures  on  Daniel,"  turn  to  the  earlier  work, 
and  he  will  be  painfully  struck  by  the  contrast.  Dr.  Pusey  could 
then  speak  with  candour  and  generosity  of  men  from  whom  he 
differed.  He  could  do  homage  then  to  the  genius  and  the  piety  of 
Schleiermacher.     He  could  speak  of  him  as  "that  great  man  who, 

VOL.  I.  II 


CjS 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


whatever  "be  tlie  eirors  uf  his  systaiit,  liad  dune  more  tbaji  (6i>me 
very  i'ew  perliajia  exce]Jtecl)  any  other  lor  the  restflmtian  of  reli^oiis 
lielicf  ill  Germaiiy."  Would  lie  now  describe  the  "  Kurze  Danitellung 
ili?s  Theoloyisdien  StiitUums  "  as  "a-wm-k  whidi,  with  u.  lew  great 
ileftjctfi,  is  full  of  iniportiiQt  princiijlea  aud  comprehensive  vieuvs,  and 
wliich  will  fiirm  a  new  era  iu  therjlogy.  whenever  the  pritidples  which 
it  furnishes  i'oi*  the  cuItivatioTi  of  the  seveitil  tbeoh)gicil  sciences  shall 
be  attwl  uiioii  ?"•  The  whole  ft-lm  of  the  Elfins  I'rofessora  lil'e,  and 
the  whole  tenJency  of  his  M-ritiiii^'S  for  maiiy  years,  have  uiiques- 
tionalily  beeu  directly  opposed  to  the  principles  of  ivhieli,  iu  the 
piissnije  just  quoted,  he  declares  his  adinimition.  That  party  of 
wliieh  Dr.  Pusey  has  loTig  been  one  of  the  fu^knowte(l**ed  lenders,- — - 
that,  system,  ri*;id  in  its  dogmatic;  statements,  medioi-Vitl  in  iLs  ritualism, 
TiitTairi-esaive  in  ita  priHci[>lea,  with  'wbich  liia  uam^  Ls  identified, — have 
iindonbtedly  been  the  gjentest  nbgtnde  t^i  the  fonnntion  of  "  a.  new 
em  ill  theology."  To  them  it  is  owiut;  that  the  tide  baa  been  checked, 
and  its  waters  hurled  Wnlently  backward,  ^Ve  are  not,  however, 
tauntuig  Dr.  Pusoy  with  nicniisiBteucy.  We  dti  not  rnejin  to  insinu- 
at«  tliat  ho  ever  was  a  disctplo  of  Schleifnuacher's,  or  adopted  to  any 
cstent  the  principles  of  that  great  jdiilosophical  theologian.  Bat 
we  do  lament  that  one  who  cuuld  onoe  speak  in  terms  of  so  innch 
candour  and  moderation,  not  oidy  of  that  iUsLin^'uished  man  but  of 
others,  like  Leasing  anil  Iferder,  whose  theology  has  api)enred 
more  than  doubtful  to  cautious  divines,  should  in  later  life  have 
unlearned  the  obarity  wbich  "believetli  all  tluuys,  bopeth  all  tliiuw8," 
—that  one  who  once  hailed  the  dawn  of  a  better  theology  m.  cou- 
nection  witji  the  naine  of  .Schleiermaclier,  should  now  stigmatize 
as  "unl>elievers"  and  "rationalists"  all  who  venture  to  doubt  the 
genuineness  of  Daniel.  Great  and  good  men,  lika  Ai'nold  of 
liugljy,  ilo  not  deseive  to  have  this  re]]roach  cast  upon  them,  nor 
indued  can  it  huit  them.  Every  line  of  such  a  man's  writings  relates 
the  calimmy.  His  wholy  Ufe  is  a  noble  witness  to  the  depth,  tho 
purity,  the  power  of  his  faith.  To  call  such  a  man  an  unbeliever  is 
to  travesty  wonls — to  make  a  mockery  of  laujjuage.  Nor  is  it  true 
of  many  others  who  have  Ijeen  staggered  by  the  evidence  adducetl  in 
favour  of  the  later  date,  that  "  their  i-eal  central  grounds  of  objection" 
are  "the  fact  that  thts  Hook  of  Diuiiel  does  contain  namistakable 
prophecies."  Charges  of  this  kind  tite  unworthy  of  the  wtitijr.  But 
controversy  hardeua.  The  bitath  of  party  spirit  nips  the  bud  nf 
generosity.    Charity  camiot  grow  in  that  jioiaouous  and  stifling  vapouj". 


•  "Huitorical  F.Tsquirj-,"  &e.,  p.  IIJS,  Kot*.  See  also  tte  opinion  crprfHsi'd  of  I-esaDg 
juid  Herfpr  and  BrctsnlmeiilLir,  p.  loS.  Even  lyard  HejlxMt  is  said,  noIwithHlnniling  his 
citOFS,  to  b*  "  eintttitd  to  a  high  degree  of  regpect,  from  tho  cnmeitnesa  of  hi*  wligious  as 
■well  ns  (Vom  hia  intellecliwil  characHr."— (P.  126,  Note  1. ) 


Dr,  Pusey  on  Daniel  the  Prophet.  99 

It  withers,  and  dies,  and  falls  away.  Dr.  Piisey  lias  unhappily  given 
but  too  much  eWdence  in  this  volume  that  he  lias  lonj^  breatlied  not 
'the  keen  atmosphere  of  wholesome  severities,'  but  the  pestilential 
miasma  wliich  exhales  from  the  field  of  theological  strife. 

The  contest  about  the  Book  of  Daniel,  sm  incidental  notice  of 
which  in  the  "Essays  and  Keviews"  was  the  text  of  these  lectures,  ia 
an  old  struggle  revived.  Porphyry,  towards  the  close  of  the  third 
century,  was  the  first  assailant  of  its  genuineness.  Of  his  fifteen 
discourses  against  Cliristians  (Xo-yoi  Kork  Xptartavww),  the  twelfth 
was  devoted  to  Daniel,  and  we  learn,  from  Jerome's  account,  the 
grounds  on  which  he  disputed  its  genuineness.  The  minutely 
historical  character  of  the  prophecies,  and  especially  the  details  in 
chap.  XL,  appeared  to  him  inexplicable  except  on  the  theory  that 
they  were  predictions  after  the  event.  The  prophecies,  he  argued, 
were  a  faithful  description  of  Antiochus  Epiphanes  and  his  times; 
and  their  very  accuracy  proves  that  they  are  not  true  predictions,  but 
history  cast  into  the  form  of  prediction.  The  point  of  his  ailment 
is  thus  given  by  Jerome  in  his  preface  to  Daniel :  "  Quicquid  usque  ad 
Antiochum  dixerit,  veram  historiam  continere;  si  quid  autem  ultra 
opinatus  sit,  quia  futura  nescierit  esse  mentituni."  PorphjTy  was 
answered  by  Methoilius,  Apollinaris,  Eusebius  of  Cresarea,  and 
others.  And  from  that  time  till  the  end  of  the  last  century,  no 
further  doubts  were  raised  as  to  the  prophetic  chai-acter  and  genuine- 
ness of  Daniel.  But,  the  spirit  of  critical  investigation  once  awakened 
and  applied  to  the  Scriptures,  it  was  not  possible  that  a  book  so 
remarkable  should  remain  unchallenged.  l*orphj'Tj'*s  objecti(jns  were 
revived  and  sharpened  anew ;  others  were  suggested ;  till  at  last  a 
complete  case  was  made  out;  and  during  the  present  century,  the 
great  majority  of  German  critics  have  accepted  it  as  proved  that  the 
Book  of  Daniel  belongs  to  the  age  of  the  JIaccabees.  Hitzig  fixes 
the  date  between  170  and  164  B.c.  And  this  has  been  pronounced 
"a  certain  result  of  historical  criticism."     (Liicke.) 

The  chief  grounds  on  which  it  has  been  alleged  that  the  book  is 
Dot  a  genuine  production  of  the  time  of  the  exile  are  these : — 

"The  character  of  the  two  languages  in  which  the  book  is  uTitten ; 
the  use  of  Greek  words ;  the  fact  that  the  range  even  of  the  predic- 
tion, whilst  it  clefu-ly  pointed  to  Antiochus  Epiphanes  and  his  times, 
does  not  go  beyond  them ;  the  marvellous  and  unhistorical  character 
of  the  narrative ;  the  marked  difference  between  the  stylo  of  the  book 
and  that  of  the  writings  of  the  Cajiti^-ity  ;  the  apocal}iitic  turn  of  the 
visions ;  the  place  of  the  book  in  the  Hebrew  Canon ;  the  omission  of 
Daniel  from  the  panegyric  in  Ecclus.  xlix." 

All  these  objections  have  been  combated  at  length — some  of  them, 
we  think,  successfully  combated — by  Dr.  Pusey.     We  cannot  attempt 


lOO  The  Contemporary  Review, 

to  travel  over  the  same  ground.  A  mere  outline  of  his  arguments 
wrnild  occupy  considerable  space;  and  the  "Lectures"  themselves 
iinist  l»e  stuiliefl  hy  tliose  who  would  know  what  they  are.  AVe 
piiriio^e  only  to  draw  attention  to  certain  j)oints  on  which  we  believe 
tilt  main  ai^iment  to  turn,  and  which,  we  think,  admit  of  a  different 
and  a  fairer  exposition  than  that  given  in  the  Ee^us  Professor's 
hjctures.  Tliese  are — (1)  Tlie  position  of  the  hook  in  the  Hebrew 
(.'anon,  and,  as  connected  with  this,  the  question  as  to  the  probable 
clo.sin^'  of  the  Canon.  For  if  it  can  be  shown  that  the  Canon  received 
its  final  completion  under  Kehemiah,  the  discussion  as  to  the  age  of 
iJanitl  is  at  an  end.  (2)  The  use  of  Greek  words,  and  the  general 
character  of  IJaniel's  Clialdee.  Qi)  The  nature  of  the  apocalj-jitic 
vijfions,  and  their  ndation  to  Antioclius  Epiphanes  and  liis  times. 
AVe  shall  then  e.xamine  briefly  some  of  the  criticisms  on  various 
jwints  of  tlie  Hebrew  Scriptures  into  which  Dr.  Piisey  has  diverged 
in  tJie  prosecution  of  bis  argiunent. 

I.  The  ni-fpiment  drawn  from  the  place  of  Daniel  in  the  Jewish 
Canon,  though  the  most  has  been  made  of  it,  strikes  us  as  really  of 
very  little  worth.  Tlie  book  stands  there,  not  in  the  roll  of  the 
Prophets,  but  Ijetween  Esther  and  Ezra,  among  the  Hagiographa  or 
Ketbutjliim.  Its  i)lace  is  lield  to  be  evidence  both  of  the  "lateness  of 
its  composition,  and  of  the  secondary  estimation  in  which  it  was  held 
in  the  Jewish  Church."*  In  reality  it  is  neither.  At  the  most  it 
would  only  pi-ove  a  lateness  of  rec€2^Uon  into  (he  Canon,  not  lateness 
of  authorship.  It  is  no  proof  that  a  book  is  late  because  it  stands 
among  the  Hagiographa.  Job  and  Kuth,  whatever  question  there 
may  be  as  to  their  exact  date,  were  botli  of  theui  written  long  before 
the  exile.  Tlie  Lamentations  were  written  by  Jeremiah,  probably 
about  the  time  when  Jerusalem  was  taken  by  Nebuchadnezzar.f^ 
It  is  a  sufficient  reason  why  Daniel  should  not  appear  among  the 
Prophets,  that  his  work  was  unlike  that  of  the  other  i)rophet8, 
tbat  lie  was  not  sent  to  Israel  or  Judah,  but  played  a  special  and 
exceptional  |)art  at  the  court  of  a  heathen  monarch,  and  in  a  foreign 
land.  Ilesidcs,  if  we  are  to  lay  stress  upon  the  position  of  the 
Umk  in  the  Jewish  Canon  at  all,  we  ought  in  all  fairness  to  take 
not  a  part,  but  the  whole  of  the  e\'idencc  thus  furnished.  Daniel 
stands  there  l)efore  Ezra  and  Kebemiah ;  therefore,  in  the  judgment  of 
the  Jewish  Church,  was  earlier  than  these.  But  again,  it  may  be  fairly 
asked,  AAHiat  is  the  date  of  the  present  Jewish  Canon  ?  or  what  value 
is  to  Iks  attached  to  the  judgment  of  those  who  framed  it  ?  Tlie 
earliest  enumeration  of  the  books  of  the  Canon  is  that  given  by 

•  Deq>re7,  "  Daniel,  or  the  Apocalypse  of  the  Old  Testament." 

t  Of  the  Psalms  wc  toy  nothing,  because,  although  many  of  them  are  early,  yet  rataxj 
are  post-exilc,  and  some  maj  possibly  be  as  late  as  the  time  of  the  Maccabees. 


Dr.  Pusey  on  Daniel  the  Prophet.  loi 

Josephus,  and  he  evidently  is  not  acquainted  with  the  existing 
arrangement.  He  mentions  twenty-two  hooks,  of  w*hich  he  says  five 
were  written  hy  Moses,  and  tliirteen  after  iloses,  embracing  the  period 
from  his  death  to  tlie  reign  of  Artaxerxee,  the  king  of  Persia  (wliicli 
are  usually  thus  distributed: — 1,  Joshua;  2,  Judges  and  Euth;  3, 
Samuel ;  4,  Kings ;  5,  Chronicles ;  6,  Ezra  and  Neheuiiah ;  7,  Esther ; 
3,  Isaiah;  9,  Jeremiah  and  Lamentations;  10,  Ezekiel;  11,  Daniel; 
12,  the  ilinor  Prophets  ;  13,  Job).  The  four  remaining  books,  he  says, 
contain  hymns  to  God  and  rules  of  life,  "by  which  are,  beyond  a 
doubt,  meant  the  Psalms  and  tlie  three  Books  of  Solomon  (i.e.,  Pro- 
verbs, Ecclesiastes,  and  Canticles)."  *  When,  therefore,  Mr.  Desprez, 
ia  his  recently  published  work,  says,  "The  question  to  be  decided 
by  eWdence  is,  Did  the  Jews  withdraw  the  hook  from  a  place  which 
it  once  occupied  in  the  prophetic  roll,  or  did  the  Christians  elevate 
it  from  its  original  position  in  the  Hagiograplia,  and  install  it  iji 
a  place  to  which  it  had  no  proper  title  ?""t"  we  answer,  the  evidence 
i3  in  favour  of  the  former  alternative  unquestionably.  In  like  manner, 
both  Ruth  and  Lamentations  seem  to  have  been  transferred  from  the 
(dace  which  they  at  one  time  occupied,  the  one  after  Judges,  the  other 
after  Jeremiah,  to  their  present  position  in  our  Hebrew  Bibles.J 
Jerome  mentions  that  they  were  reckoned  sometimes  with  the  Pro- 
phets, though  the  Talmud  places  thera  among  the  Ha^iographa. 

But  there  is  another  question  of  considerable  interest  closely  con- 
nected with  the  one  just  stated, — When  was  the  Canon  of  the  Old 
Testament  closed  ?  Dr.  Pusey  replies,  in  the  time  of  Nehemiah,  and 
thus  rebuts  the  attempt  to  prove  the  lateness  of  Daniel  from  his  place 
ia  the  Canon.  No  book,  no  part  of  a  book,  he  maintains,  coidd  have 
been  received  into  the  Canon  so  late  as  the  time  of  tlie  ilaecabees.  It 
is  worth  while  to  examine  this  question  more  dispassionately  than  Dr. 
Posey  has  done.  He  dismisses,  in  the  first  place,  briefly  and  contemptu- 
ously the  theory  of  Maccabajan  Psalms.  "  The  last  book,  Nehemiah, 
was  finished,"  he  says,  "  about  B.C.  410.  The  theory  of  ilaccabee 
Psalms  lived  too  long,  but  is  now  nimibered  with  the  dead.  Only  one 
or  two  here  and  there,  who  believe  little  besides,  believe  in  this  phantom 
of  a  past  century."  This  is  a  specimen,  only  one  we  are  sorry  to  say 
out  of  many,  in  which  hard  words  are  substituted  for  a  fair  investi- 
gation of  what  is  confessedly  a  difficult  problem.  "  The  theoiy  ot 
Maccabee  I'salms,"  whatever  else  it  may  be,  is  not  "  a  phantom  of  a 
past  century."  Calvin  says  of  the  44th  Psalm,  that  it  is  clear  as  the 
ilay  (liquido  constat)  that  it  was  composed  by  any  one  rather  than  by 
David,  and  that  the  complaints  in  it  fall  in  best  \vith  the  times  of 

•  Bleek,  "  Einleitung,"  p.  680. 

t  "  Daniel,  or  the  Apocnlypgc  of  the  Old  Tcslament,"  p.  14. 

X  ISlcek,  "  Einleitung,"  p.  602. 


Th^  Contempomry  Rcvkw. 


102 


iUitiochus  ("pToprm  conveiiiuiit  in  nuserum  illud  et  calamitoaui 
tempHS  t[Uo  ^Tasaata  eat  sEevissima  tyraunis  Antiuulii  ")f  Ihough  Ii 
allows  it  miiiht  lie  ret'erreit  to  any  diite  atler  the  exile.  Writing  on 
the  74th  Vsaliii,  Lu  leaves  it  an  upuu  question  wlietlier  the  laiueiita- 
tioD  of  the  poet  is  o^'er  tlie  deatruction  of  the  city  and  temple  by 
Neliiichiidnezzar,  or  the  profunittinii  nt'  tliB  temiilo  hy  Antioehua 
He  indiues  to  the  latter  date,  suggesting  that  where  the  lauguage  seei 
too  strong  i'oi'  the  cireiimstancea,  it  may  have  Tieen  coloured  by  tW 
recollection  of  the  C'hiddiL'iiii  inA'usion.  And  he  iiai-ticuliirly  notice 
the  coniplaiut — "There  is  nu  prophet  luiy  morej  uiiitlier  is  there  oji'fl 
amdng  ua  who  kiiowuth  how  long,"  as  far  more  explicable  on  tl 
Maccabieaii  hvpothesiH,  than  on  thiit  "which  ■\voidd  rel'ur  the  Psiibn  to" 
the  Bfibylonish  oxile  f  ita  conjectura  erifc  magis  prohRbilis  ad  t^mpiis 
Antioclii  spectaire  lias  quermioniaa,  quia  tunc  prophetis  caruit  Dei 
Ecdesia").  Similarly  he  think*  that  the  7ath  rgalm  may  have  b^en 
occasioned  by  either  of  the  above-mentioniod  calamities,  ("fitl  utrrnnque 
tempus  arguaetitum  optime  quadrat").  But  we  can  r;o  farther  back 
than  Calvin,  and  to  authorities  which  Dr.  Pusey  will  be  inore  likely 
to  ti-eat  with  respect.  Theophylact,  though  holding  as  a  matter  of 
course  to  the  Davidic  authorship  of  the  44th  Psalm,  still  felt  so 
strongly  tlint  the  intomal  t^viiience  pointed  tn  the  times  of  the  Maiicji- 
hees,  that  he  say."^  in  lii:?  preface  t<j  the  Fsalnt,  that  *'7)avid  uttered  it 
in  the  person  of  Mattathiaa  tmd  his  sons."  Similarly  he  holds  that 
Psalrn  79  predicts  "the  cruelty  of  Antiochns  Epiphanes  towards  the 
r7ew3."  In  like  manner  Cnsaiodoru9  says  of  it:  "])eplomt  veto 
Antiochj  pei-secutionem  tempore  Uaf?cftba:'omm  factAm.  tunc  fntnrain, 
seilicet  in  epiritu  pnijihetieo  quasi  piveteritam  propter  certilmlinem 
eventus,"  It  would  he  easy  to  multiply  teati monies.  Critically  of 
course  they  prove  nothing:  bnt  they  are  of  importance  as  showing 
how  overwhelming  the  e\'idence  ia  in  favour  of  the  MaccJihieau  times, 
when  even  interpreters  who  suppose  a  Psalm  to  be  WTitteu  by  Da^■id 
or  Asaph  are  eonati-ained  to  regartl  it  as  a  projihecy  of  Antioehua 
Epiphanes,  And  yet  Dr.  Pusey  writes  of  auch  Psahns  as  the  74ih 
and  TSthi  "  No  one  coulj  find  in  these  Maccabee  I'saltiis,  who  did  not 
■wish  to  find  tliem."  We  say  nothin;^  of  the  temper  di8}dayed  in  such 
a  Tcnmi-k.  We  only  observe  tluit  one  of  the  most  devout  and  orthodox 
of  modern  tJenuan  commentators,  who  luus  investigated  this  question. 
Comes  to  the  same  conclusion  as  Calvin,  that  the  e^ddence  as  to  date  is 
very  nearly  balanced.  Put  Delitzsch  does  not  suflei  liimsell'  to  be 
fettered  by  any  d  j^nori  theoriesj  nor  by  any  unproved  statements  as 
to  the  closing  of  the  Canon. 

11'  indeed  it  could  he  shnwn  that  tliB  Septunfriut  Version  of  the 
Paulnis  was  already  completed  about  the  end  of  the  third  ceoturx" 
l)efore  Christ,  as  Ewnld  assert.?,  or  if  it  were  certain  that  the  tjuolaiiou 


J 


Dr,  Pus£y  on  Daniel  the  Prophet. 


103 


I 

I 


I 


I 


fii>m  tLii  79th  Psulni  in  the  First  Book  of  Maccabees  is.  [I'om  tliat 
Version,  the  arrciinieiit  thus  nr-jed  wouUl  be  veiy  strong.  But  the 
quotation  is  t'ni'  from  beinj;;  iii  voi-hal  acconlance  witli  tbe  text  of  the 
LXX- ;  and  we  really  do  not  know  with  certainty  "wheii  tlicj  Greek 
Vereion  of  the  I'sahns  was  completed,  evsQ  if  we  concede,  which  ia 
itself  very  douljti'ul,  that  the  |ihnise  Kara  tw  Ao'-you  ot  typa^i  intro- 
duces R  quotiitiou  from  ScriiJtUi'e.  The  yii'st  Hoi\k  of  Msicaiheca 
[iroliably  dates  fruni  about  110  B,c. ;  why  may  not  the  author  have 
Unrited  as  Scriptm-e  a  Psalm  ^^Titten  durinij;  the  sfcru<i:f;le  with  Auti- 
uchus  Kpiphaues,  aouie  acity  years  before  ?  The  stroii;^e9t  ar;^rae]ila 
ia  rft\'oiir  of  the  eai-her  clusinj,'  of  the  CanoD  ai'e  dnmni  fruni  th«  l^roluguo 
to  the  Wisdom  yf  the  Sun  of  Sirauh,  and  rmm  a  jiassai-'e  in  tlie  Secund 
Book  of  ilaccabees.  The  Pnjloj^  wiis  probably  WTitten  about  I'JO 
B.C.  In  it  the  wiiter,  who  translated  his  gmuclfnther's  work,  msiitioua 
a  threefold  division  of  the  Scriptures.  He  says  that  his  jrraudhither 
J«dU8  "  had  ^veii  Imiisull:  to  the  ivadinj^  nf  the  Law  and  the  Pri3])hutn, 
Aud  the  other  hooks  of  our  fathere"  {rbtv  aXAtov  warpiiav  /3i/3Xiwi'). 
Hence  abnut  ISO  j!,c,,  the  ktest  pi-obable  date  of  the  urigiiml  work,  a. 
tlirecf'dd  JivtsicHi  ijf  the  Uauou  whs  already  recr»yTiieed.  JSut  niuro  than 
Ihia:  the  graiiiUou,  »ixjlo^Ljun«  fur  tmiislatiiiii  hie  grandfather's  wc^rjc 
from  Hebrew  into  Greek,  and  pomtuifr  out  that  the  force  of  the  ori^final 
must  thus  often  lie  lost,  refers  to  the  fact  that  this  diflerence  is  felt  in 
Uie  (Greek)  translatioo,  of  the  Scriptures,  "where  a^TiLn  he  euiunerates 
"tlie  Lttw  and  the  Pn-Nphets  and  the  rest  of  the  hooks,"  11"  tliis  last 
expression  Jeootes  the  Kethubliini,  then,  at  th^  date^  18U  B-C,  not 
only  WB3  there  the  same  threefold  tUvision  of  the  Canon  which  afc 
I'fvseiit  ejiiits,  but  all  the  Books  had  already  been  tnuialated  inti» 
(ireek.  Straii;;e  to  say,  it  is  yu  this  pasaayci  that  K\\iild  aud  others 
hflve  built,  one  of  their  strongest  argumeuts  against  t]ie  tlieoiy  of  Mqu- 
cabmia  Psalms,  whilst  at  the  sniue  time  they  liold  that  a  n\unbLT  of 
oilier  books  were  added  to  the  (.'anon  in  the  time  nl'  the  Maoudjeea* 
Bnt  if  the  words  of  this  Prologue  are  a  proof  tliat  no  ]Maccaba;an. 
Hsaltns  are  i^^ !«  found  in  tbe  Canon,  they  are  equally  n  proof  that  the 
Book  (>(  Daniel  is  not  Maccaha'an.  Dr.  I*uaey  is  so  far,  at  liiast,  quite 
oonaistent  For  be  will  have  not  only  no  Macn-abiean  Psalius,  hut  uo 
additions  at  oil  to  tlie  Canon  after  tlie  death  of  Muhemiab.  Ewald  i» 
tlioruughly  inconsistent  wIil-u  be  deides  MaccabMui  Paaluis  on  tlie 
fnnDiid  of  this  I'lologue,  and  allows  other  books  to  have  been  iucor- 
pomtetl  ducing  the  Mnccabajan  struggle. 

liut  whatever  may  be  thu  inference  from  tliia  passage,  th&re  is  no 
proof  that  the  Canon  was  finally  dosed  by  Neiiemiab,  The  account 
ffxvu  of  the  fonantiou  of  a  library  hy  Nehenuah,  in  2  Maccabees 

•  EkthM  ^tifii^s  rrwverbi,  thu  Song  oF  Songs,  EeclEsioates,  Job,  DfljUfl,  Eattier,  lh« 


104 


Tlie  Conianporary  Review, 


tters 


ii.  13,  of  conr^  does  not  prove  it.     We  fire  there  merely  mformetl  tli* 
Nehemiah,  "foimdijig  a  Ulmiry,  colleL-tetl  tho  (works)  concernrng  tlie 
kinj^a  aiiJ  prophets,  unJ  the  (works)  of  David,  ami  letters  of  kings 
concenihig  Votive  otferiugs."     Br.  Pusey  himself  says:  "What  docu- 
ment the  writers   of  the   Epiatle  [from  which  this  infurmation  i^B 
horpowed]  had  befi:trr>  them,  -we  have  no  cine.     Nor  do  the  words  con- 
tnin  [iiiything  as  to  the  tbrniatinn  nr  cdosing  of  tjie  Canon,  or  any  act 
whatever  in  regard  to  it."    And  yet  he  adds :  "  But  the  passage  provofl^B 
thus  much,  that  a  writinc;  was  in  existence  a  century  before  uur  D»rd,^^ 
under  the   namci  of  Nehenilah,  pre^supposing  the  existence   of  ^^i 
Canon  in  the  time  of  Nehemiah,  in  that  he  gathered  together  into  |^| 
librarj'  the  books  of  whieli  it  was  cniuposed."     We  are  quite  nimble 
to  see  tlie  proof.     Even  il'  "  the  letters  of  the  kings  "  mean  tlie  letters 
in   Ezm,  and  only  canonical   booka   are   intended,  still  this   is 
evidence  that  th-e.  Cunon  wiis  already  in  existence. 

The  stTOngest  evidence  in  i'itvoiir  of  Dr.  I'usey's  view  is  to  be  foi 
iu  the  language  of  Josephna,  and  in  a  well-known  passage  of 
Babylonian   Talmud.    The  historian,  in  hi-i  treatise  againat  Apion, ' 
already  referred  to,  states  that  no  works,  from  the  time  of  Artaxei-xes 
down  to  Ids  own  time,  had  been  accounted  wortliy  of  the  same  cret 
as  those  before  them,  "?>«■«((«<'  Ou  amd  xuca'-mori  a/  jtrnphets  ansfe 
iiQ  longer."    This  seems  to  intimate  that  he  supposed  the  Canon 
have  been  finally  closed  mider  Nehemiah ;  but  his  language  is  nismu 
festly  not  accurate,  as  Dr.  Pusey  hiniself  admits,  inasmuch  as  Malachi, 
the  last  of  the  prophets^  probably  iluurished  under  Darius  Notlius,  the 
son  iind  successor  of  Artaxerxes.  | 

Tiiere  remains  then  only  the  celebrated  passage  in  the  Talmud, 
acconiing  Ui  which  the  Canon  was  finally  closed  by  the  luen  of  tlie 
Great  Synagogue,  under  the  superintendence  of  Ezra  and  Nehemiah. 
Tins  looks  like  a  formal  and  delibernte  act,     But  we  nniat  not  fo[^et, 
in  estimating  the  vdue  of  this  tradition,  that  we  first  meet  with  it 
five  hundred  years  after  the  l>egihniiig  of  the  Clmstian  era.     Josephus 
does  not  mention  it,  though  be  acknowledges  that  books  later  than 
the  time  of  Nehemiah  were   not  xegarded  as  canonical.    Tlie  Tal- 
mudical    story    may   be    taken    as    a   later   embellishment   of    tlie 
earlier  and   stnijder  account,  that  Nehemiah  collected  and  revised  i 
the  Iwoks   which   up   to   his  time   had  been   received   as   autborU 
tative.     It  docs  not  prove  that  none  were  auliaequently  acknowleclget 
liut  the  truth  Is,  that  the  anxiety  sti  often  felt  on  this  subject  is  altf 
gether  mispIacEtd.     Writings  do  not  depend  for  their  canonical  authc 
rity  on  the.  fact  that  they  have  beca  pi'onnunccd  eannnical  by  some 
inspired  person,  but  on  their  reception  by  the  Church.     There  is 
proof  that  the  New  Testament  Canon  was  closed  in  the  time  of  th* 
last  surviving  apostle,  St.  John;  much  less  can  it  be  mtdutatned  the 


Dr.  Piisey  on  Daniel  i/te  Prophet,  105 

he  sanctioned  oiir  existing  Canon.  The  Muratorian  fragment,  a.d. 
170,  omits  the  Epistle  of  James,  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  and  2 
Peter,  and  notices  the  partial  reception  of  the  Eevelation  of  Peter. 
Even  in  the  fourth  century  there  was  no  one  catalogue  universally 
recognised  both  in  the  East  and  West.  The  formation  of  the  Canon, 
both  Jewish  and  Christian,  was  manifestly  a  very  gradual  work.  In 
both  eases  books  were  suspected,  questioned,  slowly  admitted  or  rejected. 
In  the  second  century  after  Christ,  the  Jews  themselves  questioned 
the  canonicity  of  the  Song  of  Solomon;  and  two  centuries  later  still 
the  Wisdom  of  the  Son  of  Sirach  is  quoted  by  them  as  Scripture. 
Both  the  CAadence  therefore  and  the  analogy  of  the  New  Testament 
are  against  the  view  that  the  Jewish  Canon  was  finally  and  authorita- 
tively closed  by  the  hands  of  Nehemiah. 

II.  We  turn  next  to  the  linguistic  argument.  Here  there  appears 
at  first  sight  some  prospect  of  a  definite  and  tangible  issue.  Lan- 
guages fluctuate,  but  they  do  so  according  to  known  laws.  They  have 
their  youth,  their  growth,  their  maturity,  their  decline ;  and  the  several 
stipes  are  foi;  the  most  part  clearly  discernible.  They  follow,  likewise, 
the  same  law  which  we  discover  in  ourselves.  In  their  childhood  and 
youth  they  are  simple  and  forcible ;  in  their  manhood  ripe  and  ample, 
strong  with  a  matured  strength,  and  copious  with  gathered  treasures : 
in  their  old  age  they  begin  to  totter,  and  recur — and  here  the  parallel 
is  striking — to  the  words  and  expressions  of  infancy.  The  several 
8t^;e8  are  not,  however,  always  defined  with  equal  clearness :  and  this 
is  peculiarly  the  case  with  regard  to  the  language  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment. "  The  unchanging  East "  is  almost  as  unchanging  in  its  lan- 
guage as  in  its  manners.  Hence  it  is  far  more  difficult  to  trace  any 
dearly  marked  period  of  development  or  change  in  Hebrew  than 
it  is  in  the  Western  languages.  And  this  accounts  for  the  otlierwise 
remarkable  fact  that  so  many  eminent  critics  differ  entirely  as  to  the 
estimate  which  they  form  of  the  relative  antiquity  of  certain  books 
of  the  Canon.  It  might  have  been  thought  that  books  presenting  so 
many  distinctive  features  in  their  language  as  Job  and  Ecclesiastes 
would  have  contained  in  themselves  some  evidence  of  their  age.  Yet 
the  ablest  scholars  are  not  agreed  by  centuries  as  to  the  time  of  their 
composition.  Deuteronomy  is  held  by  some  of  our  most  learned 
Hebraists  to  be  Mosaic ;  while  others  no  less  learned  contend  that  it 
was  written  seven  or  eight  centuries  later.  Again,  it  can  hardly  be 
doubted  that,  in  the  many  revisions  which  the  Sacred  Books  must  have 
undergone,  some  archaic  forms  which  might  otherwise  have  served  for 
landmarks  have  been  obliterated.  And  further,  the  monuments  of 
the  ancient  Hebrew  are  all  comprised  in  the  single  volume  of  the 
Old  Testament,  so  that  we  have  lar  less  opportunity  of  comparison, 
and  therefore  of  induction,  than  in  the  case  of  most  langus^s  whose 


100 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


ista 

I 


litoratiire  has  come  down  to  lis.     Yet,  notwithstaading  all 
careful  iuvesti>;»tioa  and  a  cnreful  coDi]:>ai'i50Q  may  do  much :  and  in 
some  iiiataiiues  results  have  been  obtfiined  iaUilig  verj'  little  short  of 
cert-tiinty.     Jlore  will  yet  be  achieved  iu  this  direction  when  tht*  mist's 
of  prejudice  shall  lie  dispersed,  and  we  shall  not  be  afraid  honestly 
ack)iov,-ledy;e  facts, 

lu  the  Boyk  of  Daniel  the  problem  presented  is  tivofohU  In  tl 
first  place  Greek  words  and  Jmnifm  woi-da  occur  in  it  wliich  occt 
nowhere  else  iii  the  Old  Testament ;  ami  noither  Greek  nor  Pei-sian,  it' 
13  aaid,  was  spoken  in  Bahyloti  at  the  time  when  Daniel  is  coiflniotJy 
supposed  to  have  ifvritten  his  book.  And  in  the  next  place,  that 
portion  of  the  work  wbicli  is  composed  in  Chaldee  differs,  it  is  alleged, 
niateriaUy  from  the  Chaklee  of  Ezm  (the  only  other  Ammaic  wluch 
affords  mi  opportunity  of  compai-ison  in  the  Old  Teslaunent),  oud 
incluies  to  the  later  Aramaic  of  the  Targums. 

1.  Dr.  I'usey  examines  first  of  all  the  chai^^'s  that  Daniel  Graecizes. 
Some  two  or  three  Greek  wonls  there  are  beyond  a  question ;  but  it 
is  Eui  important  and  noticeable  fact  tliat  these  are  ex^plusively  the 
names  of  muBictd  inatruments.  MiiskrukiUui-  has  been  derived  fi'nui 
fTvpiy%,  hut  perhaps  both  had  better  be  refeiTed  to  a  common  Sanskrit 
root.  Sfthkn  is  certainly  not  derived  fixnu  aa^^vKi^,  hut  on  the  con- 
trary, the  Greek  won!  was  itself  formed  froui  the  SjTiac  by  the  inser- 
tion of  the  m ;  just  as  the  Zabiaus  turned  the  Syriac  aboobo,  "i-eed, 
pipe,"  into  iniihouh,  "  an  insertion  familiar  to  us  in  Horace's 
iimhuhnia,  female  tiute -player"  (]\  25).  Kithdi'os  (or  Kfithros, 
Ker.)  is  no  doubt  Kfflapic,  "  guitai'."  AVhy  Dr.  Williams  should 
connect  it  with  the  j;;euitive  wflapof  we  cannot  understand :  for 
the  termination  os  in  SjTJae  is  the  familiar  representative  of  the 
Greek  teiTnination  is.  FmnieH-n  is  not  "a  Macedonian  word,"  ]f^| 
dialectic  Tnriation,  i/iavrifpdov  for  ipaXri'iptov.  No  such  form  aa^^ 
^avrfipiov  over  occurs,  aud  if  it  did,  it  must  be  Doric,  not  Mace- 
donian. There  is  no  proof  that  the  Macedonians  ever  sulretituted 
the  n  for  Uie  /.  On  tlic  other  hand,  the  Greek  word,  in  passing 
into  -Semitic,  might  very  well  have  undergone  thi.s  change,  in  accord- 
iiBce  witli  the  acknowledged  principles  of  an  interchange  of  these 
liquids  in  oU  languages.  iJeaides  these,  there  is  only  the  woitl  siim~ 
2Jvn!/c,  which  certainly  looks  very  like  the  Gi-eek  avuipuiviii.  A  for- 
midnble  dilhcultj',  however,  intervenes  when  "we  try  to  bring  t]]e  two 
together.  The  Aramaic  "word  is  tised  of  a  single  instrument;  the 
("Jreek.  of  a  concert  of  music.  A  passage  hii5  indeed  been  cit'Cd  from 
I'olyhius^  in  wldeh  lie  mentions  that  Antiochus  danced  to  the  s>/m- 
jihoTiTf:  and  by  tins  Geseuins  thonglit  that  some  one  inatniment  must 
have  been  intendeil.  Dr.  Williams  take;!  the  same  view  (Introduction 
to  Desprez'a  "Daniel,''  P-  xix.).     Dr.  I*usey,  on  the  other  hand,  insists 


Dr.  Pusey  on  Daniel  the  Propfiet.      •  107 

that  in  that  passage,  as  elsewhere,  siimphonia  can  only  mean  "  a  txincerrt 
of  instruments."  Hence  lie,  witli  Hiivernick  and  Furst,  seeks  for  a 
Semitic  derivation.  This  is  barely  not  impossible.  Words  more 
widely  apart  in  their  signification,  and  distinct  in  their  origin,  may 
chance  to  appear  in  the  same  form,  as  witness  tlie  two  meanings  and 
derivations  of  the  word  "  cope  "  in  Englisli.  On  the  otiier  hand,  is  it 
not  also  possible  that  a  word  signifying  in  Greek  "  a  concert  of  many 
instruments,"  might  on  its  way  to  Babylon  have  come  to  be  restricted 
to  a  single  instrument  ?  Would  there  not  be  in  this  some  analogy 
with  the  fate  of  the  word  "  tobacco ;"  which  was  tlie  name  originally 
not  of  the  plant,  but  of  the  vessel  in  which  it  was  smoked  1  Be  this  as 
it  may,  one  thing  is  clear,  that  only  two  or  three  words  in  Daniel,  all 
of  them  denoting  musical  instruments,  can  be  certainly  shown  to  be  of 
Greek  derivation.  And  why  should  not  Greek  musical  instruments 
have  found  their  way  to  Babylon  in  the  time  of  Nebuchadnezzar  ? 
Not  only  had  there  been  before  this,  as  Pr.  Pusey  shows,  a  long-estab- 
lished and  extensive  commerce  between  Greece  and  Assyria ;  not  only 
was  Babylon  emphatically  "a  city  of  merchants"  (Ezek.  xvii.  4),  but 
Nebuchadnezzar  himself,  greater  even  in  the  arts  of  peace  than  in  war, 
had  given  a  fresh  impulse  to  its  trade  and  commerce.  At  enormous 
expense,  he  had  constructed  a  gigantic  navigable  canal  connecting 
Babylon  with  the  Persian  Gulf.  Two  great  lines  of  commerce  diverg- 
ing from  Tyre,  one  by  way  of  Egypt  and  the  other  by  way  of  Tadmor 
and  Thapsaciis,  poured  their  treasures  into  that  vast  emporium.  It  was 
the  centre  of  the  world's  wealth  and  luxury,  as  it  was  the  centre  of  the 
wodd's  power.  The  Babylonians  were  a  music-loving  people.  From 
their  Jewish  captives,  we  read,  they  would  fain  hear  the  songs  of  Zion. 
A  traffic,  therefore,  in  foreign  instruments  of  music  need  not  sur^irise  us. 
But  if  the  Greek  instrument  found  its  way  to  Babylon,  why  not  also 
the  Greek  name  ?  "  The  name  travelled  with  tlie  thing,"  says  I)r. 
Pusey,  very  justly,  "  is  an  acknowledged  principle  of  philology." 

"  When  we  speak  of  tea,  sugar,  coffee,  chocolate,  cocoa,  cassia,  cinnamon, 
tobacco,  myrrh,  citrons,  rice,  potatoes,  cotton,  chintz,  shawls,  we  do  not  stop 
to  think  that  we  are  usijig  Chinese,  Malay,  Ambic,  Mexican,  Hebrew, 
Malabar,  South  American,  Bengalee,  Persian  words.  Anil  we  shall  continue 
to  uae  them,  even  though  they  were  originally  niisapiilied.  Ami  we  know 
that  the  word  tobacco  was  the  name,  not  of  the  plant,  but  of  the  vessel  out 
ot  which  the  natives  smoked  it.  When  Solomon's  8hi]>  brought  him  tho 
peacocks,  apes,  ivory,  almug  or  algum  wood,  they  brouglit  with  them  also 
Ihe  Sanskrit  and  Malabar  names  of  the  ape  (wliieh  piissed  thence  into  Greek 
and  our  European  languages)  and  of  the  algiim  w^ood,  the  Tamul  name  of 
the  peacock,  and  the  Sanskrit  of  the  elephant.  There  is  nothing  stranger  in 
our  hnding  Greek  instruments  of  music  in  Nebuchadnezzar's  tiiue  at  Babylon 
than  in  the  Indian  names  of  Indian  animals,  and  of  an  Indian  tree  liaviiig 
reached  Jerusalem  under  Solomon." — (Pp.  26,  27.) 

"  It  needed  not  that  a  single  Greek  should  have  been  at  Babylon.    Tjrian 


loS 


The  Coniemporary  Review. 


nicirL'hflnts  to.ik  willi  thciii  the  names  of  the  war«s  wbich  Ihej*  sqIiI,  just 
one  KnglisU  mcTi-'liaiitfi  tnmsmitkil  the  nanif*  ff  wir  East  Imliaa  imports 
with  thtui  intu  G«rmany,  ul'  thv  S[>ii.iiiaiii!*  hroimht  ua  Imck  the  American 
niuat^s  of  the  pruduuts  of  th*j  Xew  World,  or  at  lliia  ilny,  I  am  toicj,  aoniu  i)f 
(nir  iranch^stcr  goods  are  known  Iiy  the  name  of  their  emiuent  nmiiufactur^ia 
in  TarUiTV,  whrra  tlie  fiii;e  of  an  Eiiglishuina  has  posailjly  Lt'en  startelv 
seen."— (P.  31.) 

An  attempt  has  recently  lieian  niatle  by  Dr,  Williams  to  wcnkeu  the 
force  of  these  uimsiderations.     He  says  : — 

"  ILrt'  the  tiUL'Ption  ia  not  ivhether  a  etniy  (Sreuk  term  might  flout  J'riiui 
Iniiia  ti<  Tiiibylon,  hut  how  ramo  othLT  luioke  iif  tho  ]{ilile,(;vnn  thns«  writU'U 
Ht  Bfd>ylnn,  to  cjiJl  ft  liiirp  by  its  Huhrew  name  hinwrr,  and  only  the  one 
which  L'xtemal  evidenco  phictss  iit'ttr  Alt'xandfcr'a  conriuest,  to  ubc  the  Greek 
word  kitliura  (in  what  wu»  proliably  [Ij'ita  gtnitive  form,  tlioiigh  punc- 
tiuibal  f(U)thfm)X  Ezekicl,  mptivcby  Chehar's  atreatu^  wrot-e  'hinnrrrayfhf 
tliy  hiu'pj'  those  tJaiiyhU'ra  of  Zion  who  reiiiemberfil  their  piiat  teare  ut 
Babylon  had  Imug,  t!iey  auid,  '  kliinornthf.yint,  oiir  ha.r])s,'  upon  the  trees 
that  w■e^^^  there.  In  I'aiiiel  tlie  Hebrc-w  word  hua  vjuiishtd  ;  a  Greek  sub- 
stitute ai^jwars." 

But  Dr.  Williams  has  entirely  overlookyJ  the  fact  that  Ez<?kiel  and 
the  I'salmiat  were  WTiting  Hebrew,  whereas  Daniel  -was  wntiitg 
C'haldee.  In  the  languaj^'e  of  ItabyloQ  tlie  CJreek  terms  had  become 
naturalized;  they  were  not  so  in  the  langiiage  of  Judeo.  It  is  only 
in  the  Childtv  of  Daniel  that  the  word  KiUutros  oociira. 

That  Dr.  Williams  should  coEttnd  for  Ank'tphm  as  a  Greek  word  is 
no  less  surjirising.  He  conuects  it  with  tro'^oc-  "  No  Semitit;  warnuit 
for  it,"  he  ohsyn'vs,  "' approaches  witlmi  ages  the  time  required  for  a 
precedent,  unlosg  any  one  chooses  t^  make  it  a  dialectic  vtiriatiou  of 
the  Hebrew  Citshftph.  A  more  probable  clue  is  ftimished  by  thy 
frequent  recurrence  of  nutpa^  in  tlie  LXX."  But  a6<pa^  i.s  nowhere  the 
equivalent  iii  the  LXX.  of  Ashoph.  Once  they  use  ^(XuVu^op  (i.  20), 
twice  fiayo^  (ii  7,  10),  and  twice  t^apfiaKo^  (ii.  17,  v.  7).  AnJ  the 
ifiot  is  a  genuine  Semitic  root.  It  is  not  only  common  in  Syriac,  but 
it  is  found  in  tho  purest  HebreM',  if  Siinonis  ia  rij^ht,  as  we  Jire  per^ 
snaded  he  is,  in  connecting  jis/iyjfr/i.  *'a  quiver,"  with  Asit^ph.  The 
primary  si^nifitiatinn  is  that  of  "  hiding."  The  arrows  are  hiiMm  m 
the  quiver;  tlie  magicians  are  the  men  of  hidtkii  wisdom,  or  of  secret 
arts.  AVe  believe  it,  then,  to  be  proved  that  the  flreek  words  in 
Daniel  are  not  more  than  three  or  four,  and  are  solely  and  exclusively 
the  names  of  musical  instruments.  And  it  is  e\ndent,  and  indeed  ia 
not  denied,  that  Eueh  names  might  have  boon  hiwught  by  merchants 
to  Babylon,  together  with  the  instniments  which  tiiey  impoi-tcd. 

2.  Other  foreign  wonls  occvirritig  in  Daniel  are  no  less  satisfactorily 
accounted  for.  Such,  for  instance,  are  certain  Ai^an  words,  technical 
names  found  in  the  narrative,  and  denoting  foreign  oftices.  dress,  fo«.l, 
and  the  like.     A  person  living  m  Babylon,  in  the  habit  of  hearing  and 


Dr.  Pusey  on  Daniel  the  Prophet.  109 

using  such  terms  every  day,  would  naturally  employ  them  in  his 
\vTiting,  just  as  we  ourselves  use  the  words  Sultan,  Caliph,  Vizier, 
&c.,  without  attempting  to  find  for  them  English  equivalents.  These 
Arv-an  words,  it  had  already  been  noticed  hy  Delitzsch,  fall  in  exactly 
with  the  position  of  Daniel  at  the  Court  of  Nebuchadnezzar.  But 
that  they  should  be  found  in  an  author  who,  according  to  the  theorj- 
of  the  ilaccabseau  origin  of  the  book  of  Daniel,  lived  in  Palestine 
about  160  B.C.,  is  totally  inexplicable.  How  should  he  be  acquainted 
"with  Aryan  words  which  related  to  offices  which  had  long  ceased  to 
exist,  or  to  dress  which  no  one  wore,  words  which  were  mostly  obli- 
terated from  Aramaic,  which  (as  far  as  they  sur^-ived)  were  inherited 
only  from  Daniel's  text  ? "  This  appears  to  us,  we  confess,  a  decisive 
argument.  If  the  later  composition  of  the  book  is  to  be  maintained, 
then  it  must  be  shown,  either  that  such  words  had  become  current  in 
the  language  and  familiar  to  the  Jews,  just  as  the  foreign  words, 
Pacha,  Vizier,  &c.,  have  become  current  among  ourselves ;  in  which 
case  we  should  expect  to  find  later  traces  of  them,  whereas  many  of 
these  words  were  uninteUigible  even  to  the  Greek  translators ;  or  else 
that  a  -writer  in  the  time  of  the  Maccabees  was  likely  to  be  so  accu- 
rate an  archseologist  as  to  employ  with  perfect  con-ectness  terms 
long  since  obsolete,  in  composing  his  historical  romance. 

An  objection,  however,  has  been  urged  on  the  other  side  of  the 
(juestion,  which  must  not  be  left  unnoticed. 

**  We  are  not  dealing,"  it  has  been  said,  "  with  Ezra,  who  lived 
under  Artaxerxes,  but  with  an  author  supposed  to  represent  the  Syro- 
Chaldean  age  of  Babylon.  The  Babylonians  of  that  age  were  uu- 
qoestionably  a  Semitic,  not  an  Aryan  race ;  and  Persian  would  have 
been  as  strange  te  Nebuchadnezzar  as  Greek.  No  chronology  brings 
Cyrus  to  Babylon  before  540.  Suppose  him  there  in  536.  Daniel 
would  be  at  least  eighty,  approacliing  ninety  years  of  age  (i.  3).  If  be 
equalled  the  highest  historical  instances  of  longevity,  it  woidd  be  a 
strange  employment  for  one  on  the  brink  of  the  grave,  first  to  learn 
Persian,  then  to  translate  into  it  portions  of  his  former  work,  and  the 
edicts  of  Nebuchadnezzar.  Wouldjsuch  a  procedure  be  even  con- 
sistent with  inspiration  ? " 

This,  of  course,  is  not  a  fair  way  of  stating  the  question.  It  is 
needless  to  say  that  there  are  no  portions  of  the  Book  of  Daniel 
"translated  into  Persian."  If  here  and  there  Iranian  words  occur, 
they  are  of  that  special  technical  kind  which  we  have  already 
described.  And  is  it  quite  impossible  that  Iranian  names  should  have 
been  used  in  Babylon  in  the  time  of  Nebuchadnezzar  ?  WTiat  has 
history  to  tell  us  ?  When  Nineveh  was  taken  by  the  Median  leader 
Cpixares,  his  forces  were  joined  by  the  F.abylonian3  under  Nabopo- 
hssar,  the  father  of  Nebuchadnezzar,  who  had  revolted  from  Assyria. 


no 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


NalKiiiolaaaar,  it  would  seem,  eveu  consent-eil  to  Iwcome  the  vassal 
of  Cynxarea,  in  a  sense  lilie  that  in  wliicli  the  I'acha  of  E^^rpt  ackuow- 
lei'l|,'es  the  auveifi^Tity  af  the  Sultan,  iiml  tliii  alliiuice  was  further 
ceineiitud  by  a  uiarria^'e  betweeu  Ne-buchailnezzai',  tho  sou  cf  XuI>g- 
pihlaasur,  and  tht  dKiij^liter  of  Cyaxarea.*  And  subsmiueiitly,  when 
Cyoxares,  afttr  hia  coiif[uest  nf  Assyria,  marched  against  Lydia, 
Ilia  fureea  weru  juiued  by  those  of  ISabylon,  Lxiiiiinnnded  in  all  piu- 
bability  by  Nebuuhadiiezzar  iu  person.  K  the  Babylonian  dj-nasty, 
therefore,  was  Weriiitic,  yet  the  political  connettioii;  between  tlie  Mcdes 
flml  Babylouiiui^.  and  tiie  marrifige  of  Nebiichailiiezzar  with  a  iludiiin 
priucoas.  would  be  quite  &ufficient  to  account  fur  the  use  of  Aryan 
words  by  a  writer  in  tlie  position  of  Daniul.  There  was  no  need  for 
liiiu  to  luani  IVrstau  at  the  age  of  ninety. 

3.  But  the  evidence  furnished  by  the  general  character  of  Daniel's- 
Uhaldee  is  also  in  favour  of  the  earlier  date,  It  does  not  difler  mate- 
rially from  that  of  Ezra.  It  diflers  only  so  far  as  the  style  of  any  one 
mau  may  ditler  from  that  of  another  writing  with  ii-eedoni  and  inde- 
pendence the  same  language  at  the  SRuje  time,  but  under  dissimilar 
circumstances.  This  it  ia  wiiich  Dr.  Pus-ey  mulertakes  to  prove ;  and 
he  does  so  by  comparing  the  Chaldee  of  Danit^l  and  Exra,  first  with 
one  another,  and  then  with  tlie  Tar<,nmi8.  The  discussion  here  is  of 
consideraljle  interest,  ]Dai1Iy  because  it  traverses  a  field  always  in  itself 
full  of  interest — the  than^'es  in  the  structure  of  a  languaije.  and  partly 
for  other  i-easons,  which  will  appear  further  on.  Jloreijver,  "tlie 
Essayist"  has  thought  it  worth  wlule  to  re-state  his  argiuuenl  on  this 
point ;  and  it  eiiiries  with  it  a  certain  aii'  of  plausibiUty,  and  denmnds 
an  answer.  Uis  nrgiinieTit  may  briefly  be  stated  thus  ; — Ezra  hai  gonje 
forms  cf>mmon  to  Daniel  with  himself;  Daniel  has  some  furms  that  Ezra 
has  not,  but  wliidi  are  mctM-ith  in  the  Tai-giinis  of  Jonathan  and  Onkelos, 
Therefore  Daniel  atauils  at  a  puint  between  the  two,  exhibiting  in  his 
lanpmgethe  transition  period,  whtn  old  forms  were  alreiidy  dying  out, 
or  dead,  and  new  ones  coming  in — a  point  nearer  to  the  new  langiiage 
than  the  old.     The  following  instaiieea  are  those  alk'ged  in  proof; — 

(1.)  The  temuiiatiion  of  the  plural  pronotm  of  the  thiixl  ijersnn. 
which  in  the  earlie-st  Chaldee  verse  in  the  Bible,  Jer.  x.  11,  is  in  M, 
in  Ezra  is  both  in  M.  and  N,  but  in  Daniel  only  in  N.  And  this  last 
is  the  form  wlJeh  normally,  if  not  always,  appears  in  the  Tai"gnnis, 
The  same  holds  of  the  pronoun  of  the  second  person,  Usually  in 
Ezra — in  the  proportion  of  five  times  to  one — it  is  in  M,  in  Daniel 
and  the  Taigunis  always  in  N. 

(2.)  The  pronoun  "  this"  iu  Ezra  is  represented  \iy  DtCH,  DaCH, 
and  D'NdH.  In  Daniel  only  the  last  of  these  three  is  fonnd.  together 
with  a  fonn  DA.     In  the  Targiinis  the  form  is  Di:yN.     Hence  it  Is 

•  See  M,  T.  J"  iebuLr,  "  Gcschict?  Asaur'a  uod  Babel's,"  p,  97. 


Dr.  Ptesey  on  Daniel  tlie  Prophet.  1 1 1 

aigued,  Daniel  has  left  Ezra  far  behind  him,  and  is  already  more  tlian 
halfway  in  the  direction  of  Onkelos. 

(3.)  The  pronoun  "these"  is  in  Jer.  x.  and  Ezra  v.  15,  ELeH. 
Elsewhere  Ezra  uses  ILLeCU,  whereas  in  Daniel  we  find  ILLcN 
(vL  7),  and  its  still  later  equivalent/iieyiV  (ii.  44 ;  vi.  3 ;  vii.  17),  this 
last  being  the  form  which  occui's  in  the  Targums.  But  the  inference 
in  the  two  latter  cases  ia  overthrown  by  observing  (1)  that  Ezra 
and  Daniel  alike  use  B'NaH,  wliich  does  not  occur  in  the  Targums ; 
and  (2)  that  if  Daniel  has  the  form  ILLeYN  in  common  with  the 
Taigunis,  he  has  ILLcCH  in  common  with  Ezra,  this  last  being 
obsolete  in  the  times  of  Onkelos  and  Jonathan.  This  form,  moreover, 
■which  occurs  four  times  in  Ezra,  is  employed  ten  times  by  Daniel, 
whereas  he  uses  ILLcYN  only  five  times.  Dr.  Pusey,  therefore,  at 
least  holds  the  balance  even,  when,  meeting  instance  by  instance, 
he  casta  Ezra  and  Daniel  into  one  scale  against  Daniel  and  tlie  Tar- 
gams  in  the  other.  But  he  greatly  makes  the  balance  preponderate 
on  his  side  when,  availing  himself  of  Mr.  M'Gill's  careful  comparison 
between  the  Biblical  Aramaic  and  that  of  the  Tai^ms,  lie  shows  in 
how  many  and  how  characteristic  features  the  last  dilfers  from  the 
first  This  latter  comparison  settles  the  question.  Daijiel  and  Ezra, 
whatever  their  differences  may  be,  are  far  nearer  to  each  other  than 
either  of  them  is  to  the  Aramaic  of  Onkelos. 

So  fiir  we  go  entirely  with  Dr.  I'usey.  So  far  lie  is  walking 
on  snre  ground.  His  next  step  is  on  a  quaking  morass.  Granting 
that  there  is  this  resemblance  between  the  Clialdee  of  Daniel  and 
of  Ezra,  does  it  follow  that  Chaldee  hke  that  of  Daniel  could  not 
have  been  written  in  the  time  of  the  ilaccabees  ?  Dr.  Pusey 
boldly  answers  that  it  could  not,  and  for  this  reason : — The  Tar- 
gnms  qS  Onkelos  and  Jonathan  were  written  by  Palestinian  Jews, 
some  twenty  years  before  the  birth  of  our  Lord,  that  is,  nearly 
a  century  and  a  half  after  the  death  of  Antioclius  Epiphanes. 
Bnt  then,  as  these  paraphrases  only  emlrotlied  in  writing  traditional 
interpretations,  which  had  long  l>een  orally  repeated,  "  the  Chaldee 
which  they  represent  was  anterior,  probably  long  anterior,  to  them- 
•dves."  It  would  be  such  Chaldee  as  might  have  l)een  spoken 
in  Palestine  in  the  time  of  the  Maccabees.  If,  then,  an  author  living 
in  Palestine  wrote  the  Book  of  Daniel  after  the  death  of  Antiochus, 
say  about  160  B.C.,  what  stage  of  the  language  shoidd  we  expect  to 
iind  reflected  in  his  writings  ?  "Would  his  dialect  be  Palestinian  or 
Babylonian  ?  Would  he  approach  tlie  Tiu'gums  or  Eziu  ?  There  can 
be  no  doubt  as  to  the  answer.  He  ought  to  resemble  the  Targums ; 
he  does  resemble  Ezra.  But  unfortiuiatcly  this  argument  breaks 
down  ;  though,  as  it  happens,  without  gi\ing  any  ad\'antage  to 
"  opponents."    For,  in  the  firat  place,  the  Targimis  were  WTitten  not  in 


I  12 


The  Conic f up orary  Review. 


Palestiiie,  but  in  Baljylun ;  aud  in  the  uextj  that  which  yoiis.  but 
wrongly,  by  the  name  of  Oukeloa,  was  not  committed  to  wTitiny, 
takijig  the  very  earliest  possiMe  date,  till  the  end  of  tlie  second 
CKntuiy,  after  Christ.  Indeed,  all  the  evidunce  recently  aeciuuulatt:(l 
on  this  subject  bj  scholars  the  most  competent  to  jud^e,  leads  to  th« 
conulusifjii  thut  thece  wh9  do  Ruthorized  text  uf  this  Tar^oim  Wfure 
the  end  of  the  tJaird  or  the  beginaing  of  the  fouith  century  A.D.  Tin: 
Tai-jium  of  Jonathan  was  probably  a  little  later,*  What  becomes, 
then,  of  an  nryiiment  based  on  the  specific  chnracter  of  Daniel's 
Chaldee  ?  Gi-anting  the  later  date  of  the  bonk,  it  would  not  follow 
that  bis  Clialdee  ought  to  resemble  that  of  Onkelos  or  Jonathan.  For 
un  no  hypothesis  dofs  Daniel  approach  the  Targiiras.  On  the  bypu- 
thesis  that  liis  book  was  imtten  1(jOb.c.^ — thehyjiothesis,  as  Dr.  I'usey 
is  pleased  to  call  it,  of  "the  scliool  of  Porphyry," — Daniel,  aecordinf; 
to  the  corrected  dates,  stands  midway  between  the  two  extremes.  Ht- 
looks  back  37D  years  to  Kzni;  he  looks  forward  370  years  to  Onkelo.^ 
Or  rather,  to  put  the  ease  more  acuurately,  he  is  a  humlred  years  farther 
removed  from  the  hitter  than  from  the  former.  He  naes  the  diak-et  <if 
one  province,  the  Taryiun  that  iif  aiiollier^  For  theso  are  the  facts 
which  WB  are  now  obliged  to  accept.  What  becoinea  then  of  any 
resemblance,  cmild  it  be  established,  between  the  structure  of  Daniel's 
Chahlee  and  that  of  the  Targnms  i  It  certainly  d(>es  not  yo  one  step 
to  prove  that  the  book  waa  ^vritten  by  a  PalestJiiian  Jew  in  the  age 
of  the  Maccabees.  On  the  other  hanti,  l)r.  Pusey's  defence  receives 
some  damsi^c,  for  the  dincmnecs  which  be  notes  between  the  twn  kinds 
of  Aiamaic  are  anch  as  might  have  grown  in  a  lapse  of  470  years, 
which  is  now  the  period  that  must  be  allowed.  But  he  may  fttUJ  idaim 
a  noyutive  udvaiitage,  The  style  uf  Daniel's  Aramaic  is  no  proof  that 
the  book  was  nwi  written  by  a  cont.emporary  of  Ezra  in  Babylon.  And 
this  we  i'esir  is,  aft^r  all,  the  coindusion  to  be  drawn  from  a  considera- 
tion of  the  lintjuistic  alignment  iis  a  whole,  Tho  usu  of  the  Aryan 
wonls  chiefly  turns  the  sc-ale  on  the  side  of  the  earlier  date. 

III.  To  one  otlier  point  we  have  still  Ui  address  oni'selvea.  It  is 
that  on  which  Porphyiy's  objuctions  turned,  and  from  which,  says  Dr. 
Fusey,  all  the  objections  of  "the  school  of  Porphyry"  at  the  present 

•  In  proof  of  ttcBO  itatements  wi<  refpT  Ut  Mr.  DeiitatVB  vpry  Icarm^d  p.tii1  intcreatinif 
orticlt}  on  the  TARorJi,  Jn  Dr.  Smitli's  "  Dictionnry  of  tlie  Bible,"  vui.  iii.,  p.  1.6'H.  Up  Iin# 
there  shown  llint  liie  Targiini  wna  not  writton  hy  Ojikelos,  [hat  it  was  Qcror  nltributed.  tu 
liini  tiJI  the  ciirth  tv.'iitiiry  ;  that,  not  hegun  to  Iw  wiittt-ji  lill  tJie  i^ml  of  the  seconii  contuiy 
A.i».,  it  ilid  nnt  even  then  Hiipprsnde  tte  oral  Targ'iiui  (on  tlic  rontriiiy,  it  waa  "atritlty 
ftirbUdfln  [o  read  it  in  piililic"'),  irnd  that  thun"  was  no  uniformity  in  iho  vcraion.  In 
jiroaf  ul'  ila  Bubyl-nn-iaii  tirijjin,  htf  Toi'iiCiyns  ttiat  il8  Inn^iiogt'  liiu  mora  af&oity  with,  thv 
Jtalij-luoian  thim  ^•r'\(\\  Ihu  1'n.lcHtmia.n  Otfirmnt;  that  it  slwuys  ivndtinf  Lh^  word  MoAar. 
"  river,"  lij'  Eujihratra  ;  Ihat  il  itt  alwnys  quoted  in  tlio  TalimiJ  and  Miiiroaijint  of  Babyliin 
u  '*  aw  TaFgtim,"  or  n-ith  the  fommlo,  "  na  i«  translate,"  Sec.  The  whole  article,  Tliii^b. 
is  full  of  lenmiii^  and  research,  u  well  vrotth  rending. 


Dr.  Pusey  on  Daniel  tlie  Prophet.  i  T3 

time  really  procMd.  Both  as  matter  of  evidence  ajid  as  matter  of 
interjiretation,  the  visions  of  Daniel  claim  notica  Those  visions  ai-e 
no  douhti  peculiar.  The  apocalypse  of  Daniel  stamls  aa  completely 
alone  in  the  Old  Testament  as  the  apocalypse  of  St.  John  does  in  the 
New.  Even  if  Ezekiel  and  Zechariah,  who  were  nearly  his  contem- 
poraries, have  this  in  common  with  Daniel,  that  to  them  too  the  word 
of  the  Lord  comes  in  visions,  yet  there  the  resemblance  ceases. 
Daniel  ia  a  prophet,  not  to  Israel,  but  to  the  world.  Living  nearly  all 
his  life  in  Babylon,  and  holding  there  high  offices  of  state,  what  more 
natural  than  that  the  revelation  made  to  him  shoidd  deal  chiefly  with 
the  destinies  of  that  mighty  empire,  and  of  those  which  were  imme- 
diately to  succeed  it  ?  Why  BhoulJ  not  he  take  a  wider  range  than 
the  sorrows  of  the  exile  or  tlie  hopes  kindled  by  the  return  ?  Un- 
less we  are  to  deny  all  miracle  and  all  prediction  together,  it  is 
hard  to  say  why,  on  the  score  of  these  \'i8ions,  the  book  is  to  be 
rejected.  Standing  at  the  very  centre  of  the  world's  power  and  glory 
as  there  displayed,  standing  there  a  captive  and  an  exile,  with  nothing 
biU  his  trust  in  his  God  to  sustain  him,  he  of  all  men  seems  most 
fitted  to  be  the  vehicle  and  otgan  of  revelations  which,  tmcing  the 
course  of  worldly  power  in  its  various  developments,  ponrtray  also  its 
final  and  utter  overthrow,  that  the  kingdom  of  God  and  His  Christ 
may  be  set  up. 

Unless  it  can  be  shown  that  a  ^vriter,  merely  because  he  is  contem- 
poraneous with  other  writers,  is  bound  to  adopt  their  lai^uage,  or  to 
look  at  the  world  and  nations  from  their  point  of  view ;  or  unless  it 
can  be  shown  that  revelation  follows  only  one  course,  or  that  the 
visions  of  Daniel  are  such  as  do  not  fall  in  with  his  position  at  the 
Court  of  Nebuchadnezzar  first,  and  of  Darius  afterwards,  there  is  no 
reason,  so  far  aa  these  visions  are  concerned,  for  questioning  the  genur 
inenese  of  the  book.  It  is  to  the  last  degree  arbitrary  to  say  that 
Daniel  must  write  like  Ezekiel  because  he  liappened  to  be  contempo- 
rary with  EzekieL  One  objection,  and  only  one,  is  there,  derived  from 
the  character  of  Daniel's  prophecies,  which  possesses  a  real  force  in 
the  controversy.  It  is  that  based  on  the  minute  and  circumstantial 
detail  with  which  the  history  of  Antiochus  Epiphanes  is  given.  If 
this  be  a  prophecy  uttered  by  Daniel  in  exile,  it  differs,  it  is  said,  from 
all  other  prophecy.  It  is  the  acknowledged  characteristic  of,  the  Old 
Testament  prophets,  that  they  describe  the  nearer  future  with  preci- 
sion and  clearness,  whUst  the  more  distant  future  is  lost,  as  it  were,  in 
the  haze :  whereas  here  the  converse  holds ;  for  the  earlier  visions, 
which  describe  the  fate  of  the  Babylonian  and  Sledo- Persian  empires, 
are  meagre  compared  with  the  latter,  which  exhibit  in  so  much  detail 
and  with  so  much  accuracy  events  and  persons  removed  by  centuries 
from  the  prophet's  ken. 

VOL.  L  1 


114 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


That  there  is  liere  a  departure  from  the  gBneml  analt^  of  projdieey 
earmot  "be  deiiieJ.  The  jirophut  does  fur  tlie  luost  part  busy  himself  first 
anil  chietly  ^"ith  the  events  gathering  on  his  own  horizon,  ^liy,  then, 
should  Daniel  form  itu  lisreption  ?  ^\1iy  slionld  he,  living  in  Uabylou, 
predict  the  persecntioH  of  Autiochns  Epiplianes  in  colours  so  forcible  as 
to  destroy  the  perspective,  and  make  it  aecm  nigh  at  Jiantl  ?  Wc 
answer,  lirst>  that  the  entirely  changed  condition  of  the  Jewisli  peo]ilc 
may  have  made  such  predictions  necessary.  Restored  in  God's  gtxKi 
providence,  through  the  iDslruinentalit>'  of  a  ruler  of  one  of  the  gteat 
empires  of  the  world,  to  their  nivtive  land,  it  might  be  needful  for 
them  to  be  reminded  that  through  those  very  worhl-powers  would 
their  eliastening  come,  A  sahitary  puii^osc  of  diS'Ci]>line  might  be 
answered  by  thus  placing  the  picture  of  the  great  ojipresaor  and  per- 
Becutor  before  their  eyes.  In  the  next  place,  we  do  not  admit  that 
true  even  in  its  details  as  this  picture  is  of  Antiochus  Epiphanes, 
it  is  and  can  be  true  only  of  him,  "We  belEcAT  that  by  "  tlie  little 
horn"  of  chaps,  vii.  and  viil,  Antiochus  is  primarily  meant.  We 
believe  thab  in  chap.  xi.  his  portmit  is  dmwn  at  leiig^tli.*  "NVe 
see  no  reason  for  T)r.  Pusey'a  distinction,  according  to  which  only 
in  chap.  viii.  did  Daniel  pourtray  Antiochus,  whereas  in  chap. 
vii.,  and  the  latter  part  of  chap,  xi.,  is  Ibretold  an  antichrist 
who  has  not  yet  apjicared-  Tlici-e  is  no  change  of  subject.  The 
historical  fnregroTmd  is  the  same  in  all  Still  Jerome  long  ago 
pointed  out,  in  reyily  to  Porphyry,  that  there  are  lines  in  the  pic- 
ture in  chap.  x\.  which  do  not  correspond  witli  anytliing  we  know 
of  Antiochus.  And  it  is  very  probable  that  all  the  traits  have  never 
yet  been  found  in  any  one  person.  This  la  indeed  the  very  charae- 
teristic  of  all  prophecy.  It  is  ty|jieally  predictive,  It  applies  not  to 
one  only,  but  to  many.  We  altogether  repudiate  the  canon  that  the 
worrl  of  God's  prophets  must  be  limited  by  one  single  reference.  Our 
Lord  himself  hade  His  disciples  look  for  "  the  aboniination  of  desola- 
tion sfjoken  of  by  Daniel  the  jirophet"  in  the  caiiture  of  Jerusalem 
by  Titus,  though  it  wa.s  spoken^  in  the  first  instance,  of  the  profana- 
tions of  Aiitioclius  Epi])bane8.  Our  Lord's  own  ])rediction.s  of  the 
taking  of  Jerusalem  pass  off  into  those  in  wliich  He  foretells  His 
second  coming.  The  one  event  seems  to  be  a  t)'pe  of  the  other.  The 
same  law  holds  here,  we  have  been  forcibly  reiiunded.t  which  we  see 
m  the  world  around  u.s,  There  "repetitioa  of  a  tyjie  is  the  rule,  and 
originality  the  exception,  if  indeed  the  exception  can  be  found  at  all. 

"  Liitber  was  inclined  to  regnpi  the  first  l>oot  of  Mmcabees  na  worth;-  of  Ticing  plnctd 
among  tho  books  of  liolj-  Scrijiturc,  amd  partlj-  on  tbe  ground  tlml  it  givM  US  SO  luuih  hel[i 
in  Undetstandiog  Ihia  cbnptn  uf  BaniciL 

t  Bcrmon  of  Ibe  Arciibiiliop  dI"  Vork  beforfi  the  Society  for  Promoling  Cbmtiuut 
a'stoiig  die  iTcwa. 


Dr.  Pusey  on  Daniel  the  Prophet,  115 

Through  the  mineral  and  vegetable  and  animal  kingdom  the  types  of 
crystal  and  plant  and  animal  are  copied,  varied,  heightened,  degraded; 
and,  to  use  a  common  mode  of  speech,  nature  delights  to  repeat  her- 
self    "What  mean  we  by  nature  ?     He  who  made  the  world  made  the 
men  and  nations  on  it.     .     .     ,     If  the  same  great  Artificer  fashions 
the  world,  and  also  the  actions  of  man,  we  should  expect  to  trace 
the  type  through  the  one   as  we  do   through  the  other."      Again : 
— "If  it  had  been  said   that  where  words  apply  distinctly  to  one 
event,    their    second   application   to   another  must   be    decided    on 
with  caution  and  judgment,  there  would  have  been  little  to  object  to ; 
for  it  would  only  express  a  limitation  on  our  powers  of  criticism,  and 
not  on  the  Divine  power.     But  before  God  all  things  are  double  one 
against  another.     To  His  eye  the  lives  and  errors  of  nations  repeat 
themselves.     Nations  conform  to  their  type  as  does  the  growing  oak 
or  the  nestling  bird."     The  same  remark  holds  of  individual  men.- 
"  Human  nature,"  in  the  individual  as  well  as  in  the  mass,  "  repeats 
itself."    And  hence  there  have  been  many  antichrists,  not  one.      And 
hence  the  great   outlines  by  which   we   recognise   one   may  mark 
another,  whUst  there  may  be  lights  and  shadows  in  the  picture  which 
may  make  it  seem  at  different  times  more  applicable  to  one  than  to 
another.     The  antichrist  of  St.  Paul  and  the  antichrist  of  St.  John 
have  traits  in  common  with  the  antichrist  of  Daniel.     It  is  evident, 
therefore,  that  Daniel's  prediction  was  not  exhausted  in  Antiochus. 
But  as  he  was  then  the  foremost  and  the  nearest  ty[)e,  the  language 
employed,  where  it  does  not  suit  him  exclusively,  suits  him  better 
than  any  other.     This  uncertainty,  then,  mingling  with  the  certainty, 
]ttrtially  meets  the  objection  based  on  minuteness  of  detail,  as  showing 
that  the  range  of  vision  of  the  prophet  is  wider  than  the   supposed 
case.    And,  lastly,  this  very  exactness  of  prediction,  where  the  object 
is  in  the  far  distant  future,  may  be  paralleled  by  the  Messianic  pre- 
diction in  the  fifty-third  cliapter  of  Isaiah.     Even  if  we  admitted, 
with  many  expositors,  a  primary  reference  there  to  the  Jewish  people 
or  the  prophet,  it  is  nevertheless  a  prediction  of  the  suffering  Christ, 
so  clear,  so  express,  that  only  a  per\'erted  ingenuity  can  deny  or 
explain  it  away. 

Dr.  Pusey,  as  might  be  anticipated,  adopts  and  defends  with  pas- 
sionate earnestness  the  traditional  interpretation  of  Daniel's  prophe- 
cies. The  four  kingdoms,  represented  first  by  the  gold,  the  silver,  the 
brass,  and  the  iron  of  the  im^^e  seen  by  Nebuchadnezzar,  and  then  by 
the  four  beasts  of  Daniel's  vision,  are,  accoi-ding  to  liim,  the  IJaby- 
lonian,  the  Medo-Persian,  the  Greek,  the  Itoman.  But  when  he 
attempts  to  carry  out  liis  interpretation  consistently  he  is  to  the 
full  as  embarrassed  as  the  interpreters  whom  he  condemns.  "  Within 
the  period  of  the  fourth  empire,"  he  saj's,  "  there  were  these  distinct 


ii6 


The  Contemporai-y  Rcz'iew. 


I 


Iieriods,  (1)  the  time  until  It  is  ilivided  into  the  ten  portions,  symbol- 
ized by  tlie  ten  horns,  as  liefore  it  was  represented  as  etiding  in  the 
ten  toes."  It  is  not  clear  how  tin  image  representing  a  Imman  fonn 
cuuld  end  iii  anythiug  but  the  t<)es.  It  seems,  therefi^ie,  absmd  tu 
press  this  ciix^umstauue  as  signtticant  iNor  iii  nny  entphAsis  laid,  in 
the  vision.  np^Jii  the  kn  Uj<^,  vts  upon  the  ten  horns  in  the  utlier, — they 
are  not  said  to  be  ten;  not  t-o  mention  that  the  ioiugling  of  the  ir*? 
and  clay  is  to  our  appieheusitjii  fer  more  naturally  embletiiatic 
Alt'xander's  successorg  than  of  the  Roman  Em]iLre.  Dr.  Pojwy'sl 
second  period  is,  "(1)  th«  period  of  those  ten  bonis."  Of  tliis  lie 
Ltffera  no  e^cplauation.  Tlie  third  is  "  (3)  that  in  which  the  ele\'enth, 
diverse  finin  the  restj  held  its  sway."  But  whereas  Daniel  says  dis- 
tinctly that  "  the  ten  boms  out  of  this  kingdom  are  ten  kings  that 
shall  arise,"  Dr.  Pusey  aaya  these  cannot  mean  kings  but  kingdoms. 
If  so,  in  idl  cfJTisisteiicy  the  eleventh  must  idso  be  a  kingdom,  not  a 
king,  and  then  how  are  we  to  exijlain  the  manifestly  pereonal  cha- 
racter ^vea  to  it  ?— "  And  he  shall  spenk  great  words  against  the 
Most  High,  and  shall  wear  out  the  saints  of  the  Most  High,  and 
think  to  change  tunes  and  laws;  and  thtty  shall  be  given  into  hia 
hand  until  a  time,  and  times,  and  the  dividing  of  time"  (^^i.  25). 
The  fourth  period  Dr.  Pusey  describes  as  "(4)  the  period  after  the 
destruction  uf  that  power  [the  little  horn,  before  whom  three  of  the  i 
first  homs  were  plucked  up],  and  of  the  whole  fourth  kingdom,  which. -H 
is  to  perish  with  Idui.  indicated  by  the  words.  And  Ihc  rest  vf  (h* 
hernia,  the  other  kuigdonia.  Tht-tr  tlo-minwa  wvfs  Inkrn.  innit/,  yH  tJu-ir 
Uvea  loerc,  prolonged  ff/i  to  a  aeaaon  and  time,  i.e.,  on  to  the  time  appoin 
by  God."  This  sentence*  he  thinks*  relates  to  aomething  to  take  placo 
after  the  defitructioii  of  the  Iburth  empire,  and  to  l>e  ret  future.  But, 
as  the  fom-th  beast  has  been  destroyed,  we  ought  to  be  able  to  point 
out  the  ton  boms  aud  the  little  horn  before  whom  three  oi'  the  first 
were  plucked  up,  and  we  ouglit  to  Ins  able  also  tu  show  that  the  other 
three  empires  are  still  existing,  though  with  tlnjir  doroiniou  taken 
away.  The  truth  is,  as  ilr.  "Weatcott*  remarks,  that  this  view  of  the 
li'jmau  Empire  being  the  foiirth  "  origiuated  at  a  time  wlien  the 
trimnj-fhant  advent  of  Messiah  was  the  object  of  imuiedtate  e.\pecta- 
tion,  aud  the  Itomara  Empii-e  appeared  to  be  tlie  last  in  the  series  of 
earthly  kingiionig..  The  long  interval  of  conlbct  which  has  followed 
the  first  advent  found  no  place  in  the  nnticip»tions  of  the  first 
ChrJatians ;  and  in  succeeding  ages  the  liomao  period  has  been  un- 
naturally prolonged  to  meet  the  requirements  of  a  tlieory  which  took 
itB  rise  in  a  state  of  thouglit  which  experience  has  pnwed  false."  He 
reminds  us  that  it  is  a  still  more  fatal  objection  to  this  view  that  "  it 

°  In  hifl  Mticle  oa  tho  Biwk  ot  CiinLC;!,  in  Dr.  Siaith'a  "  Dictionaiy  df  tlift  Bilile,"  toI.  l, 
p.  304. 


Dr.  Pusey  on  Daniel  the  Prophet.  1 1 7 

destroys  the  great  idea  of  a  cyclic  development  of  history  which  lies 
at  the  basis  of  all  prophecy;"  he  points  out  that  the  four  empires 
precede  the  coming  of  Messiah,  and  pass  away  before  Him,  and  that 
the  Eoman  Empire  was  at  its  height  before  Christ  came,  and  that 
accordingly  it  was  not  that  but  the  Egyptian  kingdom — the  last  relic 
of  Alexander's  empire — wliich  must  have  been  prefigured  by  the  toes  of 
the  image  which  were  smitten  "  by  the  stone  cut  without  hands."  At 
the  same  time  he  admits  a  repetition  of  these  kingdoms  in  later 
history.  Those  powers,  all  of  which  placed  their  centre  at  Babylon, 
"  appear  to  have  exhibited  on  one  stage  the  great  types  of  national 
life."  It  is  on  this  principle  alone,  accordhig  to  which  tlie  nearer 
future  is  seen  to  reflect  the  more  distant,  acconling  to  whicli  the 
earlier  fulfilment  expects  a  later,  that  the  prophecies  of  the  Bible  can 
ever  be  fairly  and  adequately  interiireted.  Except  on  this  principle, 
they  are  shadows  without  a  substance.  It  is  because  he  misses  this 
principle  tliat  we  think  Dr.  Pnsey  goes  astray.  He  and  Mr.  Desprez, 
though  arri\'ing,  it  need  scarcely  be  said,  at  most  o]»posite  conclusions, 
yet  are  both  too  eager  to  find  some  definite  fulfilment  wliich  shall 
exhaust  the  symbol  or  the  prediction.  Partial  fulfilments,  for  the 
most  part,  are  all  we  can  hope  to  ti-ace.  Even  the  first  coming  of  our 
I*nl  is  a  type  of  His  second :  much  that  seems  a  prediction  of  the 
one  is  a  prediction  of  the  other.  And  perJiaps  we  never  shall  be  able 
to  fiod  with  unhesitating  certainty,  in  many  portions  even  of  jiaat 
history,  the  fulfilment  of  prophecy,  until  we  are  able  hereafter  to  read 
the  whole.  "  Now  we  know  in  part,  and  prophesy  (interpret)  in  part ; 
but  when  that  which  is  perfect  is  come,  then  that  which  is  in  part 
shall  be  done  away." 

We  have  left  oiirselves  but  little  space  to  notice  some  of  Dr. 
Posey's  criticisms  and  interpretations  of  tlie  sacred  text.  It  is  gene- 
rally in  these  that  we  feel  constrained  most  entirely  to  differ  from 
him.  Nothing  can  be  more  forced  and  unnatural  than  many  of  the 
interpretations  are;  nothing  more  unsound  than  the  grammatical 
canons  hj  which  he  attempts  to  defend  them.  Tlie  l*reface  fumislies 
us  with  some  remarkable  instances  in  point.  He  there  attempts  to 
determine  the  interpretation  of  the  early  verses  of  Genesis.  He 
asserts  that  Genesis  and  geology  have  no  concern  \vith  each  other ; 
that  they  cannot  clash,  because  all  the  ages  which  geology  requires  are 
provided  for  between  the  first  and  second  verses  of  the  Bible.  "  The 
claims  of  geology  do  not  even  touch  upon  theology.  Tlie  belief  that 
creation  at  least  dated  backward  for  countless  ages  was  current  in  the 
Church  some  fourteen  liundred  years  before  geology."  And  then  he 
quotes  Jerome  and  another — to  prove  what  ?  Tliat  angels  and  spiritual 
beings  existed  ages  before  this  world  !  "Wliat  has  this  to  do  with  the 
only  question  which  geology  raises — the  duration  of  this  our  globe  ? 


iiS 


The  Contanpofary  Rcvietv. 


FiDding  tliat  Holy  Scriptui-e  "speaks  nf  the  stellar  system  as  existmij' 
liefore  our  eaith,"  be  obsen-i^  that  tliia  "ayrees  witli  the  remurkable^ 
jiarenthetic  mention  tif  the  stars  iii  (letiesis."     But  where  is  the  pninf  j 
that  it  is  jmrenthetie,  or  who.  not  eiuharrassed  by  a  theoiy,  would 
ever  have  put  auuli  u  cunstiuction  miLiii  it  ?     Tho  really  m.au|)enihl« 
difficulties*  uttachiiijr  to  this  theory,  which  makes  Moses  ouly  give 
VIS,  iu  Ills  naiTRtive,  the  preparalion  of  the  einth  to  be  the  abode  of  1 
man  subseipieutly  to  the  geological  periods.  Dr.  I'usey  piisses  overf 
without  remark.     But  he  attenipta  to  estii-blish  the  theory  wliich  is 
that  of  Dt.  Bueklaiid,  aud  which  has  l>een  mlojjted  by  many  wlio 
were  anxious  "  to  save  the  credit  of  the  recoi'd,"  by  a  gi-ammatieal 
aualysis  of  tiie  text.     He  ohsenes  that,  at  the  beginiiijig  of  ver.  2,  there 
is  a  peculiar  coUocatiou  of  word?,     First  stands  the  crouj auction  witU 
the  subject  qK  the  aentem^re,  then  the  verb  substantive  expressed,  theu^ 
the  jiredicate;  "And  the  earth  ivfts  (or)  humme,  emptiness  and  vastuess." 
*&c.     Now  this  mode  of  speech  implies,  he  ai'gues,  a  vast  gap — ages, 
it  may  l)e,  of  duration — between  thy  tjrat  ver.'se  wnd  the  second.     For 
(1)  the  substantive  ve-rb  is  not  used  iu  Hebrew  as  a  mere  copula; 
iiud(2)  the  insertion  of  the  post  verb  (flrtl'TJIij^r)  has  no  force  at  al^ 
unless  it  lie  used  to  express  what  was  the  condition  of  the  earth  in  a< 
l^Mist  time.  pre\"ious  to  the  rest  of  the  narrative,  but  in  no  connectiou'| 
at  all  with  what  preceded. 

It  rerpdres  no  profound  research  to  disprove  both  flaaeitions.     (1.)  lal 
Oen.  xxis.  17,  the  substantive  verb  is  used  simply  as  the  copuln.-^ 
The  lirst  clause  nf  that  verse  runs:    "And  the  eyes  of  Leah  (were) 
tender."     Here  the  verb  auhstantive  is  not  exiiressed.     The  second 
clause  runs:    "but  Rachel  twrs  henutif'ul  in  form  and  beautiful  iu 


*  Dr.  Piiaer  BCfnii  quite  unalil^  (o  hi^g  llio  real  diflii'uItLGR'  wLIch  be  Las  to  me 
Speaking  sliortlj'  alU-rivarda  of  Ihu  Flo(»d,  ho  sayR,  "  Tlie  asaumptiun  of  u  portiiii  duliij:^' 
in.  any  at-mSL'  wLicli  wtiulJ  not  tjuntiriilict  ScHpIiine,  would  m*#t  na  difticulty  of  tticn 
A  flixnl  vh.irh  would  rovDr  Mmint  .VraraC  woiilil  torer  ihy  gItilKi.""  Of  noune ;  l>ut  tho 
iacrvd  t«xt  iiowhtre  U^Ma  iia  timl:  Muuiil  Ararat  n'm  uuvert-d.  A|^n  :  '*  Tliu  iliJIivul>ty  us 
tg  thfl  nniitials  I'miMl  eiv^li  Jn  ihfir  wveral  Jiiibitats,  iu  AuBtmliu,  Sew  Zunliipd,  &i-,,  is 
properly  no  iririitijir  diflifiilly.  It  lies  on  tl<e  surfate.  But  i1  piesujipoioa  that  the  '  rt«l ' 
of  God  gpolipn.  uf  in  Gi-nesla  inipliL-a  tlint  11b  created  nothing  aflenrards,"  &c.  Sin;h  a 
Prtnark  direelly  (-ontradicta  tto  Bat-red  mtrrtttSYc,  ictotding  lo  which  two  and  two  of  aJl 
kinds  of  animdti  were  to  he  taken  into  ihu  ark,  in  order  that  thus  nil  ntCL'ABity  of  a  ne«, 
creation  tnighc  bo  aiijieracdeJ.  ] 

t  Dr.  1'iiai.y  repeat*  his  oefterlioE  ba  to  the  t-opida  ia  a  not*  olsowliere ;  "  nn-  prwenf 
relation  La  i^x|iTeHt4  by  tto  lame  of  th?  turma,  '1  tbe  tiud  of  .^lirahom.'  The  sinip!? 
copiila  ia  not  mid  camicit  (le  cjipreaaeil  in  Hobru-«- ;  hut  the  past  or  future  wotild  Lave  been 
cXpreaBL-d."  This  ia  uot  Iho  i-aae.  The  suuplo  copula,  as  we  have  Been,  may  he  tipreascd  ; 
it  may  Iw  oniitI*d  evi:n  where  the  jhwI  ia  spolten  of.  Comp.  Pan.  Issvii.  20  (Eng,.  10), 
"Thy  way  (wiib)  in  the  flea;"  Jei.  i-il.  12,  "  (io  -now  to  tiiy  touje  which  (was)  in 
Shiloh,"  Wb  regret  that  want  of  npiito  does  uot  allow  us  to  unfuld  whiil  ve  b-jlievf  lif  iv 
the  roaj  furi'i;  of  oiu  [^r4's  aj'gunicnt  us  hcw^  un  thtw  words,  "1  aia  the  God  of  Ahraiiani,'' 
&c.  Dut  Dr,  l'u»oj'*  o^Ti  espoHilioUj  vhit;h  is  better  than  his  grammar,  may  be  consulti^d 
with  adviuitagu. — {V.  4pj3.J 


5* 


Dr.  Pusey  on  Daniel  i/ie  Prophet.  119 

appearance."  Here  tlie  substantive  verb  is  expressed.  But  it  would 
be  absurd  to  say  that  this  introduces  any  difference  wliatever  into  tlie 
relation  between  the  subject  and  predicate  in  the  second  clause  as 
compared  with  the  first.  The  two  sentences  are  exactly  equivalent. 
(2.)  So,  again,  as  to  the  other  assertion,  that  if  the  \*Titer  liad  intended 
to  speak  of  past  time  in  immediate  connection  with  what  precedes,  he 
would  have  used  a  different  idiom,  YaTHi  ff a AEeTS~~"  amd  the 
earth  was  or  became," — it  is  equally  groundless.  Turn  a  single  leaf  of 
the  Hebrew  Bible,  and  you  find  a  sentence  of  this  kind  (Gen.  iv.  2), 
"  And  she  again  brought  forth  his  brother  Abel ;  and  Abel  was 
iVayffi)  a  shepherd,  aiid  Cain  was  {V'QaYiN  HaYaH)  a  tiller  of 
the  ground."  The  first  of  these  clauses,  according  to  the  canon  so 
arbitrarily  laid  down,  stands  in  immediate  connection  with  what  goes 
before ;  the  second  merely  states  a  past  fact,  without  any  connec- 
tion at  all  with  what  precedes.  It  is  obvious,  at  a  glance,  that  the 
diflerent  modes  of  employment  of  the  substantive  verb  mark  no 
difference  whatever  in  the  relation  of  the  two  clauses  to  the  previous 
narrative.  And  yet  Dr.  Pusey  informs  us  that  "  Moses  was  directed 
to  choose  just  that  idiom  which  expresses  a  past  time  anterior  to  what 
follows,  but  in  no  connection  of  time  whatever  with  what  precedes." 
After  this,  surely  his  own  words  may  without  asperity  be  applied  to 
himself, — "  Human  will  can  persuade  itself  of  anytliing." 

The  same  want  of  accuracy — the  same  disposition  to  strain  the 
meaning  of  texts — pervades  his  volume.  Take,  for  instance,  his  ren- 
dering of  Psa.  xlviii.  14,  "  This  God  is  our  God  for  ever  and  ever :  He 
himself  wiU  be  our  guide  over  death."  The  peculiar  difficulty  attach- 
ing to  the  last  words  is  familiar  to  all  students  of  the  Hebrew  text. 
Dr.  Pusey  tries  to  maintain  his  rendering  by  an  appeal  to  tlie  use  of 
the  preposition:  "It  is  not  %ip  to  {1J!)>  tut  over  (7^)."  The  distinc- 
tion is  utterly  worthless.  The  latter  preposition  never  occurs  in  the 
sense  here  claimed  for  it.  It  means  over  in  the  literal  local  sense  of 
being  above  a  thing,  but  it  does  not  mean  over  in  the  sense  of  beyond. 
'Al  hat/am,  for  instance,  is  not  "  beyond  the  sea,"  but  "  by  (lit.,  ujmi) 
the  sea."  It  may  unquestionably  be  rendered  here  "  up  to  death,"  for 
the  same  signification  is  found  elsewhere.  So  in  Psa.  xix.  7  (Eng.,  G), 
we  read,  "  His  going  forth  is  from  (one)  end  of  the  heaven,  and  his 
circuit  unto  (al)  the  other  ends  of  it;"  and  in  Job  xxxvii.  3,  "His 
lightning  (He  directeth)  uiUo  the  ends  of  the  earth."  In  both 
passages,  it  is  needless  to  remark,  the  preposition  can  only  bear  the 
meaning  up  to,  as  far  as,  not  over  or  beyond.  It  would  be  easy  to 
multiply  instances  of  a  very  similar  kind.  Even  Hengstenberg's 
criticism  is  very  superior  to  Dr.  Pusey's.  He  takes  the  preposition 
in  the  sense  of  vAtk,  a  sense  into  wluch  it  passes  from  that  of  ujmn, 
and  renders,  "  He  guides  us  in  dying,"  i.  e.,  if  it  comes  to  dying.     He 


The  Coutctnporar)!  Review. 


1 20 


Temnrka :  "  Tlie  discourse  here  is  not  of  a  blessed  iinniortality,  but  onl; 
of  (leUverance  from  the  dangers  of  death — circiimstancea  thiijat 
the  people  of  ttod  with  destruction."     Hie  choice  lies  only  twtw-een 
this  and  thu  renderijig  ti-e  liave  suggested  nlxjve- — "unto  de&th." 

Ciitieism  of  the  same  rn'sh,  pmcarious,  untenalile  kind  is  iiidulj^ed 
in  cm  Tsa,  Ixxiii.  T)r.  Pusey  argues,  that  as  the  Psoliiilst  k^amt  in  thjt 
Starwhimnj  that  Oud's  righteous  judn;inents  do  suddenly  overtake  the 
ungodly,  lie  must  hft^'e  seen  also  that  this  end  of  an  e^^l  life  is  an 
earnest  of  evil  hereafter.  The  reraarkahle  thing  ^&,  if  this  were  the 
case,  thnt  the  language  employed  should  tutiLlly  fail  Ui  suggest  it. 
Not  nne  word  is  said  of  the  punishment  of  tlie  ■wicked  after  death. 
In  order  to  introduct  this  doctrine,  Dr.  Pusey  mistranslates  one  of 
the  verses  (ver.  20) :  "  As  a  dream  when  one  awaketli,  O  Lord,  m  Oit 
nir(i?.rm'ti{f  Thou  shalt  despise  their  image."  There  is  no  pretence  for 
sucli  a  rendering.  The  verb  is  in  a  causative  conjugation  (HtphilJ 
it  is  true,  hut  ail  is  the  verb  in  the  pi-evious  chiiise.  It  ivoidd  be  jvist 
fl3  reasonable  to  translate  the  first  clause,  "As  a  dream  after  t/ir 
auwlxMnff"  i  c,  the  cimsing  otliei's  to  a\\"aii.e.  This  conjugation  is, 
of  eovirse,  used  here  intnuisittvely,  as  it  uftuu  is  iii  other  vi;rbs,  and 
always  in  this  verb.  The  same  two  verlis  which  stand  iii  this  paasage 
aiB  fiiund  tflgellier  in  Psa.  xsxv.  23,  where  Dr.  Pusey  himself 
would  not  venture  tfl  dispute  their  meaning.  Thu-re  we  must  render, 
"Stir  up  thyself,  and  awake  to  my  judgment;"  and  here,  retaining 
the  saaiB  equivalents  in  English,  "Aa  a  dream  when  one  awaketh, 
(so.)  0  Liird,  when  Thou  atirivst  up  Tiiysell',  doat  Thou  despise  their 
image."  Similar  remarks  may  he  made  on  the  interpretation  of  tha 
last  verse  of  Fsa,  x^^ii.  (p.  490).  It  is  not  that  wo  question  that  there 
does  shine  forth  in  these  Psahus  the  In-ight  hope  of  e\'erlastiiig  lii'ej — in 
some  of  them  even  the  hope  of  resun-ection, — -hut  we  feel  the  strongpat 
repugnance  to  that  kind  of  criticism  which  twists  woitls  and  phraaes 
from  their  obvious  meaning  into  harmony  wIUl  a  preconceived  theory. 
Nothing  can  be  more  prejudicial  to  the  truth  than  this.  We  t 
it  very  probable  that,,  in  the  seventeenth  Psalm,  tliere  is  a  i-eference  to 
the  waking  from  the  sleep  of  death.  Thei'e  seems  to  lie  a  ciontraat 
betwee:i  the  satisfaction  of  the  worldly  in  this  life  with  the  satisfac- 
tion of  the  Psalmist  in  Clod's  presence  in  another.  But  it  is  idle  to 
argiie  that  the  expi-ession,  "to  behdd  God's  face,"  can  mean  only  a 
seeing  of  Ood  in  another  hie,  with  sncli  paaea^^s  as  Psa.  id.  7; 
sxi.  6  [7],  plainly  proA'ing  the  contrary.  Even  the  expression, 
"when  I  nwfike" — or.  as  Dr.  Pusey  will  have  it,  "in  the  awaki.'uing," 
— was  interpreted  by  Calvin  of  an  awaking  frum  the  night  of  sorro' 
nuil  sufl'cring  ("  ut  tantimdcm  valeat  ac  resjiii-are  a  ttistitia"). 

But  ive  find  the  clue  to  all  Dr.  Posey's  misrepresentations  of  tlifl 
Old  Testament  when  we  read  (p.  533), — "David's  words  expi-ess  our 


Dr.  Pusey  on  Daniel  t/ie  Propliet.  1 2 1 

Chiistian  hopes.  We  whose  hopes  they  express  cannot  think  that 
they  meant  less  to  David,  whose  hope  they  first  fed."  •  What  but 
hopdess  confusion  can  spring  from  such  a  canon  of  interpretation  as 
this  ?  Such  a  canon  cuts  at  the  root  of  all  inspiration  in  the  highest 
sense,  for  it  does  not  allow  that  the  writers  of  the  Psalms  and  pro- 
phecies were  carried  beyond  themselves  in  the  power  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  Such  a  canon  is  directly  at  variance  with  the  express  testi- 
mony of  St.  Peter.  "  Unto  whom  it  was  revealed,"  says  that  Apostle, 
speaking  of  the  prophets  of  old,  "  that  not  unto  themselves,  but  unto 
US,  they  did  minister  the  things  which  are  now  reported  unto  you,  by 
them  that  have  preached  the  Gospel  unto  you,"  &c.  Or  how  can  we 
reconcile  such  a  view  with  St.  Paul's  declaration  that  Christ  "  shed 
light  upon  ((^(iriotv)  life  and  immortality"?  To  expositors  like  Dr. 
l^tsey,  such  a  passage  must  be  meaningless. 

To  every  candid  and  thoughtfid  student  of  the  Bible  nothing  surely 
can  be  clearer  than  this,  that  the  words  of  the  Old  Testament  saints 
are  often  higher  tlian  themselves.  This  is  an  evidence,  one  of  the 
most  powerful,  of  their  inspiration.  We,  it  is  true,  read  the  Old 
Testament  now  with  our  Christian  illumination ;  we  read  it,  therefore, 
ia  a  Christian  sense  ;  we  cannot  help  doing  so.  But  we  should  also 
remember  that  that  sense  is  not  the  sense  which  it  once  possessed, 
but  one  which  has  susperseded,  or  softened,  or  transfigured  the  other. 
We  must  not  attribute  to  them  of  old  time  a  knowledge  and  an 
insight  which  they  did  not  possess,  even  whilst  we  thankfuUy  use 
their  words  as  the  best  expression  of  our  own  Christian  faith,  and 
hope,  and  love. 

We  take  leave  of  Dr.  Pusey's  volume  with  very  nungled  feel- 
inga  It  is  impossible  to  read  such  a  work  without,  the  profoundest 
admiration  for  the  depth  and  varied  extent  of  tlie  author's  learn- 
ing; but  it  is  impossible  not  also  to  lament  that  the  gloiy  of  this 
leeming  has  been  so  grievously  tarnished.  We  do  not  blame  Dr. 
Pnaey  for  ranging  it  all  on  the  side  of  what  he  believes  to  be  the 
trath ;  we  do  full  justice  to  the  sincerity  of  liis  convictions ;  we  honour 
his  piety ;  we  even  admit  the  force  of  his  arguments  so  far  as  to  think 
tiiat  he  has  shown,  and  shown  far  more  convincingly  than  any  one 
Tho  has  yet  made  the  attempt,  that  the  Book  of  Daniel  is  not  a  late 
prodaction  of  the  Maccabaean  age,  but  belongs  rightfully  to  the  age  to 

*  Of  all  the  stnngo  ptoob  that  the  Old  Testament  aoints  liclicved  in  a  future  life,  the 
ttmigeat  ii  thst  dnwn  fraiu  Bathsheba's  longuogo  at,  DaWd'e  deathbed,  "  I.«t  my  lord 
bug  David  live  for  ever."  "  Batbshebo,"  eays  Dr.  Pusey,  "  did  not,  like  the  Persian,  greet 
tbe  king, 'Moyestthon  reign  for  ever"  (vElian.,  Y.II.  i,  32).  I  cannot  think  that,  ^-ith  the 
kDOwIedge  of  the  life  to  come  which  David  had,  the  words  '  live  for  ever'  were  an  un- 
nening,  beartlew  fbrmnla,  a  mockery  to  a  dying  man."  It  is  a  little  curious  that  Dr. 
Pnaey  should  have  gone  to  -Silian  rather  than  to  Uoly  Scripture  to  ascertain  how  the 
Pmaut  were  wont  to  Mlut«  their  monarch.  Daniel  tells  us  (vi.  7)  that  they  greeted  the 
king,  "  King  Darioi,  live  for  evur,"    Is  thia  evidence  that  they  believed  in  an  eternal  life  P 


122 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


\vliioli  it  was  fur  c<5uturie3  ccjuimouly  assigued.  Eut  we  c^in  expitiss 
iiotljing  but  ilisapproliatiou  both  of  llie  temper  in  whicli  the  book  is 
written,  and  of  tbti  etitire  petTersion  of  till  critical  priii(;ip]ea  by  wbicb. 
in  oiir  juJgmeiit,  it  is  marked.  We  rugret,  with,  a  f;irue  of  reyret 
which  we  cannot  put  into  w^urds,  that  une  hcjldin^'  the  chair  of  Hebrew 
ill  ;ine  of  ijiir  great  imivei-sLties  should  have  lent  the  weij^Ut  and 
authority  uf  his  name  to  critieisms  and  interpret^iitioiis  wliich  are  as 
miscliievous  iis  they  aJ"e  untenable.  That  such  critlcisuis  shuiild.  pass 
muster  and  be  accepted,  onJy  shows  at  wliat  a  deplorably  low  ebb  the 
study  of  Ileljrew  is  in  Eagland.  That  study  can  never  rise  to  it* 
proper  di|^mity  so  long  as  it  is  stilled  iu  cur  uuivei'sities ;  and  it  is 
stifled  wheu  tlie  most  certain  result-s  gf  modem  iiLveatigatiun  are  tlmist 
aside  unless  they  happen  to  favour  some  preconceived  tlieoiy,  when 
imagiiig-tion  is  aul>atitated  foi  grauuuar,  rabbinical  fancies  valuetl  moi-e 
than  Sober  canons  of  exegesis,  and  the  wildest  licence  of  iiiterpretatiuu 
or  of  tritic-igrn  indulged  in  to  save  a  text  or  to  support  a  doctrine. 

Our  age  has  happily  seen  raauy  indiciitions  of  a  bcuiltbier  tone, 
a  broader  theohjgj',  tliau  13  to  be  fotmd  in  tho  Reyius  Professor's 
"  Lectures.'"  There  is  a  far  truer  conception  of  what  Revelation  is,  a 
more  correct  estimate  of  its  manifold  and  composite  and  gi-adual 
character.  Men  have  learnt  to  value  it  in  proportion  as  tiiey  have 
felt  that  it  ia  not  an  image  dropped  down  out  of  heaven,  but  as  it  is  in 
truth,  God's  name  uttered  to  man  through  many  centuries,  "in  inajiy 
portions  and  in  many  ways."  It  was  in  the  time  of  the  Reformation, 
first  since  the  days  of  the  Apostles,  that  the  Old  Tcstjiment  at  least 
received  a  I'eal  interpretation.  It  ig  thy  glory  of  two  of  the  great 
mastef'Spirits  of  that  era  of  awaking  thought  and  power  and  liberty 
to  have  laid  broad  and  deep  the  principles  of  a  true  exegesis.  It  is  as 
strange  as  it  is  humiliating,  that  wc  are  only  beginning  to  recogni.se 
the  value  of  their  method.  But  it  ia  impossible  to  shut  our  eyes  to  the 
fact  that  whilst  one  party  in  the  Church,  which  professes  to  revere  the 
names  of  Luther  and  Calvin,  has  altogether  let  slip  the  very  piiuci]d&s 
ivhich  they  advocated  bi  the  interpretation  of  8cri[>ture,  another  pstrty 
lias  set  itself  firmly  and  perseveringly  to  lead  ns  back  to  patristic 
glosses  and  mediitval  conceits.  Such  an  eflbrt,  e^sj^jecially  when  sanc- 
tioned by  the  names  of  men  of  learning  and  piety,  may  retard  tlie 
progress  of  more  rational  views.  It  cannot  finally  destroy  them. 
The  whole  cinreut  of  thought  is  setting  in  one  direction,  and  that  in 
the  main  a  right  direction.  And  we  have  no  fear  as  to  the  rtiault. 
The  true  worth  of  Holy  Scripture  wUl  Ijc  more  deeply  felt,  its  true 
majesty  more  fully  recogiuaed.  This  is  a  reaidt  that  we  confideuLly 
anticij»ate,  but  it  is  not  a  result  which  a  work  like  Dr.  Pusey's  can 
help  to  bring  about.  Tliat  it  tends  to  retani  such  a  result  i.9  perhaps 
its  sttcmgest  coudcmi^tioii.  J,  J.  8Tl£\VA.B'r  I'EfcOWSE. 


'^^m 


INDIAN    QUESTIONS. 


THE  iailUTiirence  to  Imlrau  affairs  whiclj  is  so  fmiueiitly  com- 
I'lained  of  ia  not  cuiifined  to  queatiuus  of  politics.     Those  who 
live  iu  IiiiUa  louk  In  raiit  at  hoiue  for  anything  lil:e  a  full  discussion 
-ot  the  grave  questions  which  concern  the  progress  of  Christuioity 
thai,  ^.-yuntry.    Tlie  reports  of  religiQiis  ewietles  furnish  but  one 
jead  of  mforiiiatiou,  and  tliiit  limited,  anil  when  thej  pass  the  con- 
venvioual   line,   they  only  repeat  the  iveU-lcuon'ii   opiuiuua   of  the 
jommiitee  that  issues  them.     The  agi-eemeut  of  single  ^Titers  on 
«;  opinions  contributes  to  the  huiinony  of  the  society  and  tlie 
:i{>eration  of  its  lufcuihtii-s,  but  takoa  uway  much  from  tlie  inde- 
jmicnce   of  the   information,  and   does   not   (iiicouniga   disca'saiuu. 
Icnce  the  uusatisfactoi'ineas  of  these  rtiporLs,  mid  tlie  little  iuterest 
rhicli  they  awalion  even  in  those  who  sire  k^nly  seuaible  of  the  vast 
lims  of  India  ii|>oii  the  atteutiou  of  every  Christian  man. 
The  Cliurch  at  home  no  lesa  tlian  in  India  sulTei'a  from  this  indifCer- 
Isolation  is  furei-jn  to  the  siiicit  of  Chri-stianity,  and  is"  equally 
iful   to  the  cliurch  wliich  ■\vithholJ.Sj  and  tlie  churcli  which  is 
»priveil  tif  sympathy.     The  cnei'giya  so  much  needed  for  preparing 
the  %vay  of  the  Gtjspel.  for  deepeniny  th«  foundations  and  budding  Tip 
edifice  of  th(j  bmly  uf  Christ,  are  misilirecteJ  to  objects  of  far  less 
at,  and  too  often  spund  them&elviis  upon  the  forius  and  rLuestions 
>r  imrty  strife.     The  action  that  nujjlit  have  gone  to  found  or  wvive  n 


m  Qyestmis. 


129 


Dre  in  December  and  January,  1862-3, 

It  occasion  to  refer,  valuable  as  em- 

lesa  representative)  of  missionaries  of 

lifect  in  the  direction  of  missionaiy  work 

3f  the  most  attached  friends  of  missions, 


spent  among  tho  natives  of  India  in 

I  whii:li  have  brought  him  into  close  contact 

j)]e,  at  various  times,  under  circumstances 

Cter,  tlieir  feelings,  and  their  principles  of 

think  it  well  to  urge  is  this,  that  we  neglect 

>get  our  native  brethren ;  and  hast  of  all, 

the  tmigt  poicerful  infiunnce  over  their  minds: 

ii^Diul  rule  the  missionary  rather  holds  aloof 

jlitire  Btriking  instances  have  occurred  of  our 

cunvorsion,  a  position  as  men  of  Oriental 

itionwl),  '/  coiufider  thia  to  be  in  spite  of  the 

vif  nithf'/  t/ian  in  eaneeqaence  of  it. ' 

I  that  there  is  a  want  of  charity,  as  weU  as  of 

by  our  secular  educationists  generally,  of 

talii/fn  rtisa,  ignoring  all  tlie  learning  of  the 

liii^  (■[!  a  wholly  new  foundation,  the  structure 

ill  ndnpted  for  amalgamation,  in  any  shape, 

lich  ate  indigenous  to  the  land.     The  conse- 

3,  as  a  Ijody,  have  cordially  reciprocated  our 

do  nut  understand  us.     ...     It  is  an 

scs),  and  (gainst  this  error  I  desire  to  want 

caa  remftrked  by  Behari  Lai  Singh  at  the 

jiatked  tnily,  that  if  we  coztltl  otdy  secure  tint 

should  geeiire  the  hearts  of  almost  the  entire 

iitivi;  chiefly  desired  to  urge  in  respect  to 

althoiigti  the  possessors  of  it  are,  in  some 

rtaiit  of  all  classes,  they  appear  to  me  to  havo 

.,  owiut;  probably,  in  some  degree,  to  an  int- 

,'  aeeesaible — an  impression  which  I  believe 

ure  approached  tlirough  the  medium  of  their 


1  low  standard  of  E\iropean  missionary 

'age  moat  be  excepted  not  a  few  highly 

cotch,  and  German  missionaries — is  tlie 

'f  the  native  teachers.     That  a  native 

le  instructors  of  the  native  Church, 

ill  be  the  real  agent  for  evangelizing 

tore  evident.     The  gulf  which  divides 

bought  and  ways  of  life,  can  never  be 

or  love  of  the  foreigner,  at  least  not 

Christiiin  teaching,  aball  have  passed 

D.  F.  McLeod,  Esq.,  C.B.    Pp.  128—138. 
K 


1 24  Tlie  Contemporary  Review, 

cburcli,  from  the  contraction  of  its  sphere  becomes  the  movement  of 
a  sect.  It  might  seem  tliat  those  who  meet  the  difficulties,  and  to 
whom  they  are  practical,  were  on  that  account  the  best  able  to 
solve  them.  Doubtless  it  woidd  be  so,  were  the  requisite  thought 
and  ability  combined  in  due  proportion  with  power  of  work.  But 
not  every  one  is  skilful  alike  with  the  weapon  of  war  and  the  work- 
man's tool ;  those  on  the  watch-tower  contribute  no  less  than  the 
buildere  to  the  completion  of  the  edifice,  by  the  advice  which  is 
foimded  on  a  wider  vision.  There  are  at  present  questions  of  deep 
concern  to  the  Church  in  India  which  ought  to  be  entertained  by  the 
Church  at  home,  and  any  want  of  practical  acquaintance  with  them 
would  be  more  than  siq>plied  by  the  pnidence  and  caution  of  men 
learned  in  the  Scriptures  and  in  the  knowledge  of  Church  history. 
Over  against  the  treatment  of  a  too  free  criticism,  or  the  expediency 
of  changes  of  rubric,  may  be  set, — as  of  more  paramoimt  interest  to 
the  cause  of  Christianity,  and  therefore  of  more  binding  obligation 
ujjon  the  Church, — the  questions  how  far  and  how  best  the  truths  of 
the  Gospel  may  be  tauglit  to  the  children  of  heathen  parents  attending 
Christian  schools ; — by  what  means  Hindoos  and  Mussulmans  may  be 
drawn  to  inquiry  and  beHef ; — the  best  means  of  educating  a  learned 
ministry  fi-om  among  the  native  converts,  and  of  dealing  with  those 
many  social  problems  which  spring  out  of  the  relation  of  converts  to 
their  families. 

But  no  review  of  tlie  state  and  prospects  of  the  Church  in  India 
should  start  with  the  proceedings  of  religious  societies,  nor  even  with 
the  wants  of  a  native  church.  The  religious  thought  and  habits  of 
our  own  countrymen  first  claim  attention.  It  is  plain  that  the  place 
where  an  English  regiment  or  battery,  or  native  regiment  officered  by 
Englishmen,  is  stationed,  must  be  a  witness  either  for  or  against 
Christianity  t«  every  class  of  natives,  especially  to  the  more  thoughtful 
Every  sucli  place  is  a  missionary  outpost,  not  because  a  missionary, 
\vith  school,  catechists,  and  teachers,  is  found  there,  but  because  the 
religion  professed  by  the  "  sahib  log  "  is  the  Christian,  and  because  from 
the  lives  and  conversations  of  the  residents,  their  just  or  xmjust  dealing 
in  their  intercourse  with  the  natives,  as  masters  with  servants,  me- 
diants with  traders,  the  natives  receive  the  undeniable  witness  of  coii- 
duct  for  or  against  the  Gospel.  The  necessity  of  the  direct  instruction 
wliich  the  missionary  imparts  in  school,  or  offers  in  the  Bazar,  and  the 
avakenod  uiquiry  which  often  follows,  cannot  be  over-estimated ;  but 
nevertheless  the  full  force  of  the  too  much  neglected  fact  must  ever 
be  kept  in  mind,  that  it  is  the  whole  body  of  P^uglislmien  resident  in 
Iiulia  who  represent  Christianity  to  the  natives,  and  from  whom  they 
judge  of  it.  The  woi-ds  of  Dr.  Arnold  need  to  be  recalled  : — "  If  you 
do  go  to  India,"  he  wrote  to  a  friend  desirous  of  becoming  a  mis- 


eionary,  "  still  remember  that  tlie  o^reat  worfc  to  be  done  is  to  otgauizv 
nnd  purify  Christian  clmrchea  of  Tvhites  ami  half-castes.  .  .  . 
There  tntist  he  the  niiflciis  which  mdivi<!iial3  from  the  natives  will 
t'outimiaUy  join,  more  and  more  a,^  those  hecome  mort  uumerniis  nmi 
more  re9|>ectahle.  'H.henvLge  the  cast©  Bj'stem  is  nn  insuperable  diUi- 
tuHy :  you  citll  on  iLmiin  t<(  lenvt*  all  his  old  C(iniiet"t,i(in3.nmi  tnbecomi?- 
itifumuTis  iji  their  eves,  iiiij  yeb  have  nu  livljijj  chmrh  to  offer  him, 
where  '  he  shall  receive  I'lithera  and  mothers,  and  brethren  and  aiatora, 
4c,,  a  blind i-edfold.'  Iiidiviilual  prem.^liiiij*  amoiifj  iJie  Hijiduos, 
without  liiivin^  a  church  to  wfiicb  to  invite  them,  seems  to  me  tho 
wildest  of  follies.  Kemember  bow  in  every  place  Paid  made  tlie 
ii»iTE(iE7c  the  fouiidatioa  of  his  ehnreh,  and  then  the  idolatrous 
beatlifii  ynthered  muiid  these  in  more  or  less  numbers." — Life  a-iul 
Gerretpontifncc,  p.  512. 

Eveu  those  whose  attention  is  altoirether  fixed  upon  the  work  of 
Biieeious  must  lii'st  take  aocount  of  the  tone  nf  thow^dit  and  action 
which  prevails  among  oiu"  coimtiyiiien.  Otherwise  they  may  come  to 
faid  their  own,  eObrts  to  evaugetize  paralyzed,  Tt  is  an  migi-ateful 
iSflk  to  ex])ti5e  soimj  cau^^es  of  apiireheosiuii  which  that  fcotie  at  pi'&seut 
seems  to  su<!^9t.  But  tlio  truth  sboidd  be  sjjoken,  for  the  sake  of 
ibe  whole  Church,  whether  the  iti-rhft  fnmU  be  smooth  or  not. 

The  generatirm  of  Indians  who  proverbially  left  their  relij^ion  at 
Hw  Cape  may  be  said  tfl  have  passed  away.  Many  of  tlie  olfler  Jiieu 
rf  their  &ucceaaors  hold  dee])  and  eartwfit,  if  one-sided,  eo.ovictiotis  of 
rdigious  truth.  They  are  the  mun  furomog^t  in  sebemes  of  benevoleut 
and  missionary  enterprise,  ready  for  every  suclt  good  work,  and 
vehement  complainers  of  the  neutrality  of  CJovemment.  Now  a 
^\i  gulf  seems  to  part  them  ofl',  lici'e  aa  elsewliere,  fruim  sympathy 
m'tL  minds  formed  in  nuother  aehool  tlian  tlieir  owni,  and  especially 
fwm  yonotjer  men  trahied  in  the  last  culture  of  the  century.  Vet  it 
ij  to  the  thouf^ht  aod  action  of  these  younger  men  that  the  future 
l»long8  ;  it  is  they  who  will  influence  the  character  of  the  next  page 
of  Christiau  liiatory. 

There  ore  increasing  signa  of  the  ^'rowiiij;,  silent  alienation  of  these 
men  fri^m  Christian  worshi])  and  coniniunion.  It  nmy  be  explained 
aft  A  passiuy  fasldon,  or  a.s  the  result  of  a  certaia  phMe  of  opuiion; 
bnt  it  is  a  fact.  And  its  gravity  Is  heightened  by  the  cirtnunstaiice 
I  tlwt  wp  meet  it  iu  men  whose  livefj  are  pure,  wlio  exhibit  least  of  the 
Worldly  self-seeking  spirit,  who  are  nmonjj;  tho  most  thonglitfiil  and 
cultivated,  llic  conventional  furmula',  of  the  indifference  of  the 
•ximipt  heart,  or  of  the  love  of  earthly  things,  ore  wholly  uisufftpjent 
to  eijdaiu  the  fact  referred  to,  than  whieh  none  is  fmugbt  witli 
lireaterj  danger  to  the  spread  of  Christianity  in  India.  The  general 
iii'i:tt.leiuent  of  i-eligious  belief,  which  \a  the  real  cause,  has  grown 


1 26  The  Contemporary  Review. 

from  "within  ;  the  outcome  of  it  is  a  scepticism  reluctant  indeed  rather 
than  a^reasive,  which  in  some  of  the  best  men  is  rapidly  passing  the 
border  of  intellectual  hesitation.  But  it  is  to  within  the  Church 
itself  that  the  root  of  the  e\'il  is  to  be  traced.  The  destructive  results 
at  whicli  some  recent  criticism  aims  would  have  little  power  to  shake 
the  faith  which  saw  through  the  veil  Him  who  is  invisible.  Such 
publications  are  the  expression,  not  the  cause,  of  the  doubt  and  uncer- 
tainty hanging  over  us.  The  secret  of  their  success  lies  in  this,  that  they 
speak  to  men  already  "perplext  in  faith,  but  pure  in  deeds;"  who  re- 
ceived, with  their  first  instruction  in  Christianity,  statements  of  doctrine 
which  in  the  time  of  mature  reflection  appear  to  contradict  the  Divine 
instincts  of  justice,  mercy,  and  truth — the  image  of  God's  own  eternity 
in  the  heart  of  man.  Theories  and  representations  of  doctrine  were 
taught  them  as  necessary  inferences  from,  or  identical  with,  the  facts  of 
Christianity — were  acquiesced  in  as  the  creed  of  Christendom;  and 
in  no  few  cases  a  rude  repulsion  has  followed  the  attempt  to  read 
and  understand  them  by  the  light  of  reason  and  conscience.  Our 
object  is  not  to  explain  but  to  indicate  actual  phenomena.  Many 
causes  tend  to  develop  such  a  tone  of  thought  as  we  are  referring  to 
in  India,  The  narrower  range  of  subjects  to  which  the  mind  for 
the  most  part  turns,  from  the  want  of  a  present  political  interest; 
the  dependence  upon  their  own  resources  to  which  men  are  driven, 
owing  to  their  isolation,  and  to  a  forced  bodily  rest  during  the  heat 
of  long  summer  days,  concentrate  the  mind  upon  the  subject  of  its 
choice.  When  that  subject  is  a  religious  one,  the  doctrine  of  pro- 
]tortion  and  sobemiindedness  is  forgotten.  Hence  the  strange  vagaries 
of  opinion  into  which  old  Indians  are  seen  to  fall,  c.  g.,  upon  imful- 
filled  prophecy ;  and  hence,  too,  the  tenacity  with  wliich  they  hold  the 
opinions  they  have  once  formed.  It  may  be  doubted  whether  any 
clas.s  of  our  counti^-men  make  tlieir  convictions  more  their  own, 
or  hold  them  more  resolutely.  AU  the  graver  is  it,  when  men  thus 
circumstanced  are  slowly  laying  aside  the  creed  of  the  Church,  or  are 
f()und  wanting  in  hearty  co-operation  with  the  spread  of  it.  In  every 
society  it  is  the  thoughtful,  earnest  few  who  will  ultimately  lead 
opinion :  it  is  of  these,  and  not  of  the  many  who  affect  the  tone  of 
unbelief,  and  learn  its  language,  because  it  is  a  little  the  fashion,  that 
we  now  write. 

Each  age  and  country  has  its  own  jieculiar  need.  There  can 
hardly  be  a  doubt  that  the  need  of  the  Church  in  India  at  the  present 
time  is  for  the  ministry  of  men  who  shall  be  competent  to  form 
an  opinion  upon  the  many  theological  questions  in  dispute,  which 
are  brought  into  discussion  by  every  newspaper;  above  all,  of  men 
who  are  able  to  sjnnpathize  with  and  understand  the  thou'dits  and 
difficulties  of  their  fellows.     It  is  not  zeal,  nor  discretion,  nor  devotion 


Indian  Questions.  127 

to  Clirist  only,  which  is  now  needed.  There  need  be  learning  and 
capacity  as  well ;  a  firmly  rooted  faith  in  Him  who  died  and  rose 
again,  no  less  rational  than  sincere ;  and  the  judgment  to  distinguish 
in  teaching  between  what  is  essential  and  what  is  accidental,  what 
is  for  all  time  and  what  is  growing  old  and  ready  to  vanish  away,  in 
the  forms  of  Christian  belief,  such  as  only  a  lai^e  and  liberal  culture 
can  impart. 

Nor  is  this  the  need  only  of  the  various  European  churches  in  India ; 
the  ablest  missionaries  are  most  conscious  that  it  is  theirs  also.    Unhap- 
pily, the  present  system  of  selecting  and  educating  missionaries  does 
not  tend  to  meet  it.     It  is  unreasonable  that  the  most  trying  task 
which  a  man  can  take  on  himself,  be  he  ever  so  much  gifted  with 
Christian  graces, — that,  namely,  of  winning  unbelievers  to  inquiry,  and 
of  persuading  them  that  the  Gospel  is  true,  should  be  committed  to  men 
who  have  been  subjected  to  a  brief,  unlaborious  training.     A  short  time 
spent  in  a  Missionary  College,  an  almost  exclusively  theological  course 
of  study,  and  that  confined  to  some  few  works  of  English  theologj',  can 
liardly  be  expected  to  qualify  the  candidate  for  a  work  which  demands 
intellectual  conviction  of  the  truth,  no  less  than  devotion  and  benevo- 
lence.   Without  doubt,  a  personal  interest  in  the  Gospel  to  be  preached 
is  more  persuasive  than  the  subtlest  power  of  disputation.     But  there 
is  no  reason  for  supposing  such  an  interest  to  be  necessarily  joined  to 
limited  knowledge  or  mental  deficiency.     Bather,  much  faith  and  a 
thorough  devotion  to  the  work  of  evangelization  might  be  supposed  to 
liave  its  best  witness  in  the  most  diligent  preparation  beforehand. 
The  excellent  gift  with  which,  of  all  men,  the  missionarj''  most  needs 
to  be  endued,  is  the  bond  of  other  virtues,  and  is  found  to  inspire  a 
sober-minded   piety,  not  less  profound  because  it   is   rational   anp 
reverent.     The  lower  standard  of  missionary  qualification  than  that 
required  for  ministerial  duties  at  home  (except  in  those  cases,  becoming 
unhappily  so  common,  where  the  University  degree  is  dispensed  with), 
acts  injuriously  to  the  cause  of  missions,  especially  in  India.     Without 
previous  mastery  of  Oriental  literature,  the  teaching  of  the  missionary 
is  necessarily  confined  to  the  less  instructed,  the  poor  and  degraded  of 
the  native  population.*    The  Gospel,  indeed,  should  be  preached  to 

*  Too  much  importance  is  Attached  to  the  commonly  received  statement  of  the  porerty 
ntd  ignorance  of  the  early  Christians.  That  statement  may  be  fairly  challenged.  It  rests 
(1)  upon  the  undoubted  poverty  of  the  Church  of  Jerusatem ;  and  (2)  upon  the  one 
(juMtion  of  St.  Paul  in  1  Cor.  i.  26,  27.  But  (1)  the  many  eibortBtions  to  liberality  in 
ilmsgiving  preclude  the  supposition  that  the  poor  estate  of  the  Cbiuvb  at  Jerusalem  was 
Jured  by  other  churches ;  and  (2)  with  reference  to  1  Cor.  i.  26,  27,  it  may  be  doubted 
Thether  the  slaves  and  artisans  of  a  Oreek  city,  which  as  a  Roman  .colony  was  rapidly 
ncovering  its  former  position  of  dcp6t  for  East  and  West  trade,  and  "the  eye  of  all  Greece," 
iwdd  be  men  of  low  intellectual  culture.  Certainly  not  because  they  were  slaves,  for 
UDODg  these  were  the  writers  and  librarians,  the  physicians  and  teachers  of  the  Roman 
world ;  nor  necessarily  because  they  were  ignoble  by  birth.     In  the  fifth  century  B.C.,  wo 


128  The  Contemporary  Review. 

those,  but  not  on  that  account  should  it  be  preached  less  to  the  other 
classes.  At  present,  it  may  be  doubted  whether  the  work  is  not 
begun  at  the  wrong  end.     In  tlie  valuable  report  of  the  Punjab  Mis- 


know  of  a  cortain  Atheoian  leather-dreaser,  "at  that  time  by  far  the  moat  penu«iT« 
Bpoalcer  in  the  cyoi  of  the  people;"  and  his  frieada  the  rope- eeller,  the  Bheep-aeUer,  and  tho 
lampmakor,  however  imscnipulous  os  politicians,  were  mCn  of  no  mean  parts,  although  they 
would  certainly  have  been  designated  oii  voUoi  hvvarai,  oh  voXXct  ihytvuc. 

A  more  thorough  study  of  the  Nov  Testament,  and  deeper  search  into  Christian  anti- 
qtiiticB,  tend  to  modify  the  too  general  assertion  of  Olshausen,  quoted  in  Alford,  iL  481 : — 
"  Tho  ancient  Christians  wcro  for  the  most  part  slaves  and  men  of  low  station.  Tba 
whole  history  of  the  expansion  of  the  Church  is  in  reality  a  progrosaiTe  -victory  of  dia 
ignorant  over  the  learned,  the  lowly  over  the  lofty,  until  the  Emperor  hinuelf  laid  down 
his  cro«*n  before  the  cross  of  Christ." 

Un  the  other  hand  there  is  Mr.  Uerivale's  opinion  ("  Converuon  of  the  Roman  EmpiiSt" 
p.  S3),  which  is  most  interesting  for  its  bearing  upon  the  present  state  of  things  in  India: — 

"  St.  Paul,  himself  a  man  of  no  mean  social  rank,  and  of  high  intellectual  culture,  spoke, 
I  cannot  doubt,  directly  to  the  intellect  as  well  as  to  the  heart  of  men  of  refinement  like 
bis  own.  Ilia  converts  were  among  the  wise  and  prudent,  as  well  as  among  the  impuMre 
and  devout.  I  reject,  then,  the  notion,  too  hastily  assumed,  too  readily  accepted,  from  a 
mistaken  conception  of  the  real  dignity  of  the  Gospel,  that  the  first  preaching  of  the  Gospel 
was  addressed  to  the  lowest  and  meanest  and  least  intelligent,  the  outcasts  and  pttdetaire* 
of  society.  Many  reasons,  I  am  convinced,  might  be  alleged  for  concluding  that  it  was 
much  the  reverse.  Ab  regards  the  Christian  Church  at  Rome  at  least,  the  ^rect  state- 
ments of  the  Apostle  himself— the  evidence  of  existing  monuments  of  antiquity — inCetencea 
of  no  little  strength  from  the  records  of  secular  history,  and  inference,  not  lightly  to  be 
rejected,  fh>m  the  language  and  sentiments  of  contemporary  heathens — all  tend  to  nssuie 
us  that  it  embraced  some  devoted  members,  and  attracted  many  ansious  inquirers  amidst 
the  palaces  of  the  noblos,  and  ovea  in  Ciesar's  household.  If  such  be  the  case — if  bi^- 
bom  men  and  women — if  well-trained  reasoners  and  thinkers — if  patricians  and  i>atrona 
and  counsellors  in  law,  with  their  freedmen,  their  pupils,  and  their  clients,  did  read  and 
appreciate  the  Apostle's  letters — did  visit  him  in  his  bonds  aitd  listen  to  his  teaching*— did 
accept  gospel  truth  from  his  lipe,  and  ask  for  baptism  at  bis  bands,"     .    .    . 

Sw  also  note  R.,  p   208. 

The  opinion  of  Mr.  Merivale  is  confirmed  by  the  researches  of  U.  de  Rossi  in  the  Cata- 
combs at  Rome,  of  which  an  interesting  memoir  will  be  found  in  the  Jteetu  dtt  Jma 
.VonA-*  for  Septtanbcr  1,  1865,  We  extract  the  following  as  bearing  directly  Dpoa  Un 
subject : — 

"  Vingt  ans  de  fuuillee  et  d'e'tudrs  dans  les  Catacombcs  ont  modifi^  pour  lui  lee  id^ 
qu'on  se  fait  d'ordinaire  sur  la  prrtpagation  du  Christianisme  k  Rome.  M.  de  Rossi  cr«t 
que  la  rvUgion  nouwUe  a  p6)^trc  plus  tAt  qu'co  ne  le  pease  dans  les  hatitea  classes  de  U 
soriAt^  ct  quo  le  grande  monde  est  venu  i  clle  presque  aussi  vite  que  lee  '  pauvres  gesia.'  Ce 
n'est  done  pas,  comme  on  le  repute,  une  doctrine  qui  pendant  longtemps  a  fait  son  cbemin  hu 
bruit  dans  lea  crgostiilw  d'eeclaree  ou  les  ecboppes  d'ouvriers.  EUe  eat  entree  d^  I'origine 
dans  lea  palais  du  Uuirinal  ou  les  ricbea  maisons  du  Forum,  elle  n'a  pas  tard£  meme  i 
s'insinuer  jusque  sur  le  Palatia.  .  .  .  D  n'en  est  pas  moias  probable  que  cea  gens 
riche*.  que  c«s  persannages  importans,  dont  on  parle  si  pen  ont  dii  venir  sottvent  au  aeeoaia 
de  la  coromunaute  en  {vril,  I'aider  de  leur  fortune,  ou  de  l<^ur  credit,  et  quand  on  n'eet  pas 
ditpow  il  ne  voir  qu'une  s^rie  de  uiraclea  dans  I'ftablissemmt  du  Christiattisne  od  ect  <ai 
dr«it  de  soupaiNumer  que  leur  argent  ou  leur  influence  ne  fut  pas  inutile  i  aea  aacon. 
J'aw'ueqttec^n'eit  pas  que  Ton  se  £ut  d'ordinaire  des  premiers  temps  ife  Teniae ;  onne 
o>  la  ficure  que  mit^rsblo  et  proscrite,  .  .  .  je  connais  des  gens  qui  sauront  mamais 
gT\>  ik  M.  de  RdSM  de  I'intioduire  si  rite  dans  le  palaia  des  grand*.  Mais  Timaginatkin  a'a 
que  faitv  iri ;  le  rule  do  notiv  epoque  est  de  nHopra  ea  toutea  chases  avec  le  raaaa  pour 
tvvx-nir  ^  la  nWitf,"' 


Indian  Questions.  129 

ebnary  Conference  held  at  LaJiore  in  December  and  January,  1862-3, 
to  wliich  we  shall  have  frequent  occasion  to  refer,  valuable  as  em- 
bodying the  opinions  (more  or  less  representative)  of  missionaries  of 
different  denominations,  this  defect  in  the  direction  of  missionary  work 
is  plainly  pointed  out  by  one  of  the  most  attached  friends  of  missions, 
vho  speaks  from 

"  An  experience  of  thirty-four  years  spent  among  tlio  natives  of  India  in 
the  perfoimance  of  official  duties  which  have  brought  him  into  close  contact 
vith  almost  all  classes  of  the  people,  at  various  times,  under  circumstancttn 
tiiat  render  a  study  of  their  character,  their  feelings,  and  their  principles  of 
action,  to  some  extent  unavoidable.* 

"  A  further  principle  which  I  think  it  well  to  urge  is  this,  that  wo  neglect 
or  overlook  no  class  from  amongst  our  native  brethren ;  and  l&ast  of  all, 
those  classes  who  have  at  present  tiie  must  powerful  inflii^icp.  over  their  minds: 
for  as  yet  I  believe,  that  as  a  general  nile  the  missionary  ratlier  holds  aloof 
from  Uie  learned  classes  ;  and  whore  striking  instances  luivo  occurred  of  our 
converts  maintaining,  after  their  conversion,  a  position  as  men  of  Oriental 
learning  (three  examples  are  mentioned),  '  /  consider  this  to  he  in  spite  of  thn 
tyttem  we  have  generally  adopted,  ratlier  than  in  eonsequeiiee  of  if. ' 

"  It  has  long  appeared  to  me  that  there  is  a  want  of  charity,  as  well  as  of 
wisdom,  in  the  course  pursued  by  our  secular  educationists  generally,  of 
legarding  the  native  mind  as  a  tahulit  rimi,  ignoring  all  the  learning  of  the 
Eut  as  viJneleflB,  and  commencing  on  a  wholly  new  foundation,  the  structure 
niged  upon  which  is  exceedingly  ill  adapted  for  amalgamation,  in  any  Bha})o, 
vith  the  systems  of  learning  which  are  indigenous  to  tlie  land.  The  conse- 
qoQice  is  that  the  learned  classes,  as  a  body,  liave  cordially  reciprocated  our 
contemptuous  alienation — they  do  not  understand  us.  .  .  .  It  is  aii 
oiOT  to  disregard  them  (these  classes),  and  against  this  error  I  desire  to  warti 
oiir  misaionary  brethren.  It  was  remarked  by  Itehari  Lai  Singh  at  the 
lirerpool  Conference,  and  remarked  truly,  that  if  wft  could  only  8P.c.ure  thtt 
hearts  of  the  learned  classes,  we  should  secure  the  hearts  of  a/most  the  entire 
population.  .  .  .  What  I  have  chiefly  deisired  to  ui^c  in  respect  to 
Onental  learning  is  this,  that  although  the  possessors  of  it  sire,  in  somo 
Tapecta,  perhaps  the  most  important  of  all  classes,  they  appear  to  me  to  liavo 
been,  as  a  class,  neglected  by  us,  owing  probably,  in  some  degree,  to  an  im- 
p/ession  that  they  are  not  easily  accessible — an  impression  which  1  believe 
to  be  anfonnded,  provided  they  are  approached  tlirough  the  medium  of  their 
Own  learning."— (P.  154.) 

Another  evil  of  tlie  avenge  low  standard  of  European  missionary 
attainments — from  which  average  must  be  excepted  not  a  few  liighly 
respected  names  of  English,  Scotch,  and  German  missionaries — is  the 
still  lower  standard  of  that  of  the  native  teachers.  That  a  nati^■e 
dergy  must  ultimately  be  the  instructors  of  the  native  Church, 
that  the  native  missionaij  will  be  the  real  agent  for  evangelizing 
India,  is  becoming  more  and  more  evident.  The  gulf  wliich  divides 
Eastern  and  Westam  modes  of  thought  and  ways  of  life,  can  never  be 
completely  bridged  by  the  zeal  or  love  of  the  foreigner,  at  least  not 
tin  some  generations,  leavened  by  Christian  teaching,  sliall  have  passed 

•  "  On  a  Kative  Portonte."    E»ay  by  D.  F.  McLcod,  Esq.,  C.C.    Pp.  128—138, 
VOL.  I.  K 


I30 


The  Contemporary  Review, 


away.  This  is  the  witness  of  cine  who,  of  all  Europeans,  possesses  the 
greatest  a]>t]tutie  for  becomiu^  an  Oriental  to  Oiieutals,  Speaking  of 
the  hif,^hei  d&;xrfE  of  prosperity  and  civilization  enJLiyeil  by  North 
Anibia  wlien  Christianity  was  widely  difTused,  and  l»eibre  Midiomet- 
aniam  took  riaCj  and  of  the  practical  conclusion  drawn  from  the  fact 
hy  intelligent  Arabians,  that  Christianity  is  connected  with  national 
"well-being,  he  adds:* — 

"Were  it  (this  concJnaion)  one  day  or  other  to  find  such  execution,  I  for 
oni*  should  not  be  eurprisuiJ,  after  what  1  have  heanl  and  seen  iit  spveml 
loimJities,  thougli  indeed  a  siuiilar  event  could  uidy,  it  would  settni,  Iw 
br{iiig]it  nliout  by  inilij^criouB  luitkm  tm  native  i^Toiuid.  For  l>ptween  Aaiutics 
Bnd  ICuropeiina  in  geiiL^ml,  there  is  hut  littlii  sjTiipathy,  and  less  iium];^ma- 
tion ;  a  truth  of  which,  to  ovcrskp  lor  a  niLunent  the  native  fmntipr,  a 
marked  esampk  may  he  too  clearly  read  in  the  blood -atainoil  oimals  of  the 
late  Inrlioj]  rcbtdHon.  Bt?8idea,  so  little  ia  tlie  East  and  ita  inhabitants 
nnderatnod  by  the  Wcst^  so  few  in  the  latter  have  of  the  formor  even  tlmt 
degree  of  kiiowledgi!  whi*"]!  is  the  firat  necessary  etep  to  inflnencej  that  I  do 
not  see  much  probability  of  si'rimis  moml  or  reli^ous  change  heing  brought 
about  in  Arabia,  dp  in  any  Aatalic  counti-y  clsewhfre,  by  Euroiwan  agenty, 
unkes  indeed  for  \\\o.  worse." 

The  question  then,  how  best  to  train  and  educate  the  native  clergy, 
ia  of  great  moment.  The  views  tif  the  missionaries  elicited  at  the 
conference  showed  a  wider  dift'erence  of  n]iinion  as  to  the  reiinisito 
qualifications  than  the  subject  failed  for.  There  was  a  general 
acknowledgment  that  "spirituality"  is  not  the  only  reqtiisite,  but 
most  of  the  speakc^rs  seem  to  have  agreed  that  learning  and  edu- 
cation were  only  subsidiary,  not  essential  to  the  efficiency  of  a  native 
clergjTnan's  ministry.  One  thought  that  "  in  the  case  of  ikastflrs  lliere 
could  he  no  partic-ubn-  need  of  Oriental  learning ;"  and  that "'  even  in 
respect  to  evangelists,  the  Lmportance  of  such  learning  ought  not 
to  be  exaggerated."  Another,  a  native  clergyman  of  the  American 
Presbyterian  Mission,  thouglit  it  hardly  neceasarv*  to  "  say  that  pastors 
must  l.ie  fjhimltd  men."  ..."  the  more  educated  they  are.  the 
more  able  will  tbey  be  to  edify  their  hearers."  He  added  the  humili- 
ating statement,  "  Our  uneducated  catechista  can  siiy  a  gi-eat  deal 
Against  Hinduoism  and  Jlahoiaetaiiism  ;  but  in  preachiiij,'  to  a  Chris- 
tian congregation,  they  cftn  hardly  keep  the  attention  of  their  hear«^ 
for  more  than  five  minutes.  Their  Stock  of  Biblical  knowled*^  is 
very-  soon  ejchausted." — (r.  157.) 

There  seenis  to  be  an  error  in  the  poiof  of  view  from  which  this 
question  of  niissicmary  qualification  is  usually  discussed,  as  though 
the  choice  lay  between  ability  on  the  one  side,  and  devotion  on  thii 
other.  Now  sincerity  and  devotion  are  rightly  estimated  above  ^^Efts 
and  attainments  which  are  merely  intellectual.     Bnt  it  is  forgotten 

•  W,  0,  Pttlgravc'fl   "Narrativu  of  u  Tciir'i  Joiiniey  tlirougli  Central  and   Eastern 
Arabia,"  18C2-63,  v«l.  L,  p,  88. 


Indian  QucsHons. 


131 


» 


tliat  it  is  beyond  fl.ny  man's  power  to  judge  tiie  sincerity  of  another, 
wbjcb  can  ouly  Iw  inferred  fi'om  the  evidence,  the  one  uuerring  test 
i-r  <luty  done.  Tlifit  the  tjurest  evidence  of  the  sincerity  of  the  cHn- 
Jidate  wouhl  ho  found  in  his  hearty  pi^paTation  of  him&Glf  for  the 
office  to  wliich  he  aspires,  and  that  his  ignorance — in  other  words,  his 
idleness — is  a  preaiimptive  proof  of  insincerity,  can  hartllylie  douhted. 

The  kind  of  inatruction  which  the  native  clei^  shoidd  receive 
occupied  the  attention  of  the  Conference,  and  it  is  a  suhject  which 
desen'es  carefiU  discussion. 

The  clanger  is,  lest  one  metliod  of  stndy  be  adopted  to  the  exclusion 
of  others,  and  in  every  case.  Perhaps  the  recognition  of  a  few  nimple 
Ekcts  of  history  would  correct  some  present  mistfLkea.  or  at  least  invite 
a  reconsideration  of  the  method  wliich  appears  geucrally  followed. 
Chri&tianity  is  not  a  religion  tbrei^'n  to  the  mind  or  character  of  the 
Eastern.  Considered  aa  the  coinnmiiion  of  a  ni\'ine  life,  it  is  of  no 
one  time  or  place.  "The  life  was  the  light  of  men."  "Thou  canst 
not  tell  whence  it  cometh,  nor  whither  it  goeth."  Viewed  in  the 
a^jject  of  a  system  of  ninrality  and  scheme  of  doctrine  'which  is  uf 
univerBal  application,  Christianity  is  of  Eastern  origin  and  growth. 
Tlie  bcxiks  which  couto-in  it  were  written  prohahly  without  exception 
by  Easterns.  The  very  hmguaife  belonj^ed  as  much  to  the  East  as  the 
We«U  lu  Deau  Jlihiiau's  wurds,"  "Greek  was  the  commercisd  Ifin- 
guagc,  ill  which  the  Jews    .     ,     .     carried  on  their  intercourse." 

Now  it  is  an  immense  advantaj-e  to  the  instructed  Hindoo  convert. 
that  tlie  one  sacred  language  of  Christendom  has  most  athuitics  with 
the  aacred.  lauyini^'e  of  Ida  own  country  ;  and  further,  that  the  non- 
Cbristiaii  literature  of  that  lanjifiiage  has  stUl  nearer  relationship  with 
the  icgeudar)'  ^vorsliip  to  which  he  lias  been  accustomed,  to  his  own 
previous  conteinplation  of  tlie  ntiiverse.  Witness  the  light  thrown  hy 
Mr.  Grote  npon  legendary  Oreece  fn^m  the  studies  of  Hindoo  life  and 
thought  conbitued  in  Colonel  Sleemau's  "  Ramlilea  imd  ItecoUections." 

The  study,  then,  of  the  Greek  language  and  literature  would  be  no. 
study  to  the  convert.,  would  open  to  him  the  tveii-iures  of  Christian 

jwletige,  and  if  guided  hy  men  imbned  with  the  generous  spirit  of 
Enrojieau  linguistic  science,  could  not  fail  to  enlarge  tlie  mind,  and 
ipve  of  itself  sufficient  tTaining,  without  the  stain  of  denationidization. 

It  is  a  fair  ij^uestioUf  \Vliy  should  the  tiiuuhijig  of  the  Gospel  not 
allowed  free  course,  and,  unfettered  by  later  interiiretations,  utter 

I  own  message  in  its  own  tongue  to  the  native  convert  ?     Why  should 

tlie  ciiaunels  be  forceil  in  a  Western  dii'ectiou  when  the  waters  might 

through  thera  stmight  from  the  primal  source  ?    Tlie  Clmstian 

cieties  of  ludiii  might  be  allowed  to  stand  in  the  same  pHJsitioii 
towards  the  sacrul  liLeraLiu'e  of  onr  faith,  as  did  the  first  fonued 

•  "  Latin  Chriatianity,'"  Xntrodnction,  p,  i. 


132 


Tii€  Contemporary  Revkw. 


cliurt^hea  of  Enst  and  West.  The  rise  of  a  lliniloo  Christianity, 
out^rrnwth  of  the  native  mind  and  trhamuter,  wuuld  then  at  least  lie 
possible ;  the  plant,  not  trans  planted  from  afar,  iiii;;;ht  take  deeper 
root  in  ita  own  soil  Hut  if  it  eeein  ^ood  to  withhold  from  uo 
newly  formed  society  of  Cliristiana  the  large  experience  onri  widened 
thoughts  (jf  centuriea  of  Christian  culture,  tliGu  it  heonmes  a  grave 
question  which  development  of  Christianity  Bholl  be  tauyht  as  most 
faithful  to  the  type,  and  its  most  iucomijit  exponent. 

The  main  divisions  of  East  and  West,  with  their  many  subdivi- 
sious,  aecoiHling  ^l  the  special  eharacter  of  their  owii  laws,  customs, 
ways  of  thou|^ht,  developed  each  one  ite.  owii  form  of  Christiajiity.  If 
the  Hindoo  convert  is  tu  learn  from  the  controversii^s,  speculations, 
dogmas  of  Chriatlauity — Gi-eek,  Latin,  Teutonic — from  which  ahall 
he  learn  ?  The  reasonahle  answer  would  be,  from  that  of  which  the 
j^enius  ■wR.s  least  foreigu  to  his  o^ii-  "■  Ajngtiij  th^i  t«reeks  had  betin 
for  centuries  aj^itated  all  those  ]irimajy  (lueattuns  which  lie  at  the 
hottom  of  all  reli*,dons — the  formation  of  the  worlds  the  exiatunce  and 
nature  of  the  Deity,  the  origin  and  cause  of  evil- — though  this  seein? 
to  have  been  studied  even  with  stronger  preililectinn  in  the  trang- 
Euphratic  I^t.  Hence  Greek  Christianity  wag  insatiably  inquisitive, 
specidative.  Confident  in  the  inexhaustible  copiousness  and  fine  pre- 
ciaion  of  ita  language,  it  endured  no  limitation  to  its  cufiou3  iuve-sti- 
gations."  •  .  Let  those  deeply  reatl  in  Oriental  learning  witness  how 
far  this  is  descriptive  of  the  early  Hindoo  mind  and  literature.  Thu 
Oriental  Christian  need  not  want  an  Oriental  Chiistiiin  literature. 
He  jioaaesseB  it,  and  may  tlaim  it  as  his  own  inheritance,  in  the 
noble  works  of  the  Greek  Fatlu>rs  of  the  first  four  centuries.  And 
until  Hindoo  Christianity  shall  have  produeed  a  lileratnrti  of  its 
own,  Justin^  St.  Clement  of  Alexandria,  Origen,  Athanasins,  St.  .lohn 
ChryBostom,  the  (IregoriGS,  and  l^asil  the  Great,  might  well  ho  studied 
aa  the  cla.ssics  of  the  native  'C'hnrcli.  These  men  spoke  indeed  to 
the  Church  of  all  time,  aiid  their  MTitiiigs  as  a  whole  are  still  un- 
rivalled; but,  Easterns  or  half-Easterns  themselves,  most  of  all  ilid 
they  speak  to  the  chnrt'licis  of  tlm  East  ;  and  it  may  be  doubted 
■whether  tlie  newly  formed  chm-ches  of  the  East  could  find  at  tliis 
day  any  other  literature  so  ivell  aflnpted  to  their  wants. 

The  coiu'se  of  reading  which  is  set  the  native  candidate  for  the 
ministry  ia  of  a  tliiferent  kind.  Peayson,  IJutfer,  PaJey,  or  Wliately's 
Eyideuces,  are  his  class-books,  just  a-s  if  he  wert;  preitariug  for  ordina- 
tion at  home.  Indeetl,  the  reason  given  by  one  missionary  at  the 
Conferenty  why  they,  the  native  dergj-,  should  know  English  was, 
"that  they  may  be  able  to  read  Enj^lish  liooks,  and  derive  from  them 
the  requisite  information  on  theological  aubjiicta,  wliich  they  have  to 
*  Uilmoo's  "  Lntia  CtuiBtiatiitj^,"  Introduction,  ii. 


Indian  Questions,  133 

communicate  to  their  less  informed  flocks,"  as  though  information  on 
theolt^cal  subjects  were  confined  to  English  books,  and  imobtainable 
elsewhere.  Few  Knglish  Churchmen  but  take  pride  in  the  past  glories 
of  English  theological  literature;  few  educated  Englishmen  but  honour 
the  names  of  Hooker,  Taylor,  and  Butler.  But  the  ■writings  of  those 
great  men  are  set  to  a  purpose  for  which  they  are  singularly  ill-fitted, 
when  they  are  converted  into  theological  class-books  for  Orientals. 
It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that,  with  perhaps  the  exception  of  Butler's 
ethical  writings,  no  literature  is  less  fit  for  the  purpose  than  our  own, 
and  that  for  the  reason  that  no  Uterature  is  so  thoroughly  imbued 
with  the  national  spirit  of  its  own  day,  and  more  thoroughly  contro- 
versial. Why  import  into  India,  together  with  tJie  Divine  message, 
and  the  words  of  inspired  writers  thereupon,  sixteenth  and  seventeenth 
century  disputes  between  Catholic  and  Protestant,  Anglican  and 
Paritan,  concerning  doctrines,  rites,  and  ceremonies,  which  are  wholly 
alien  to  the  Eaatem  mind  ?  Why  stifle  any  creative  thought  which 
the  Divine  message  awakens  in  the  convert  by  the  deadening  weight 
of  traditions  and  interpretations  received  from  omt  Fathers  ?  There  is 
the  dawn  of  a  doubt  whether  such  a  training  is  the  best  for  English 
cleigymen  at  home,  and  whether  we  do  the  most  reverence  to  our 
divines  by  labelling  their  deepest  thoughts  as  tests  of  right  or  wrong 
theological  opinion.  Surely  there  can  hardly  be  a  question  that  such 
a  training  ia  most  ill  advised  in  the  case  of  Hindoo  candidates  for  the 
ministry  of  the  Church.  And  yet,  in  a  careful  paper,  read  by  a  much 
esteemed  missionary,  after  the  statement  of  the  fact,  of  no  little  interest 
in  itself,  that  "  the  most  popular  works  among  the  Christians  them- 
selves" are  found,  in  the  writer's  own  experience,  to  be  "  the  mission- 
ary and  apol(^tic  works  of  the  early  Fathers,"  he  goes  on  gravely 
to  Tecommend  the  study  of  Hooker,  Butler,  Pearson,  Hartwell  Home, 
Preaideut  Edwards's  "History  of  Kedemption,"  and  his  Prophetical 
Coutse,  £31iott'8  "  Hone  ApocaJypticte,"  Chamock  and  Goodwin,  Birks 
and  Ellicott. 

If  such  a  course  of  instruction  is  generally  followed  out  in  the 
Tarious  Mission  Colleges — and  there  is  reason  to  think  it  is, — no 
Tonder  that  the  denationalization  of  the  students  is  complained  of ; 
no  wonder  that  weapons  foiled  in  such  armouries  are  still  pow^erless 
against  instructed  Hindoo  and  Mussulman  belief;  no  wonder  that 
native  Christianity  has  yet  developed  no  type  or  character  of  its  own, 
and  that  not  one  single  native  Christian  has  risen,  of  pre-eminence 
enough  to  influence,  ia  any  appreciable  degree,  the  future  of  India. 

These  remarks  are  made  in  no  spirit  of  unfriendly  animadversion, 
bat  in  order  to  provoke  discussion,  and  direct  it  to  subjects  which  suffer 
grievously  from  n^lect.  But  whatever  difl'erence  of  opinion  there 
maybe  as  to  the  most  effectual  means  of  training  an  efficient  ministry 


134 


Tfie  Contemporary  Review. 


— and  it  ia  an  open  question, — 'thei'e  can  or  ou^ht  to  be  but  one 
opinion  as  to  tlitt  neeJ  of  a  learned  and  competent  miuistry,  botli  for 
Eiiropean  and  native  fhurche^.  The  c.haract43r  of  the  many  questions 
wMuli  contierii  tlie  pro^Tess  of  C'liristiaaity  in  India,  makes  tlie  need 
nioi'e  felt  in  both  communities.  Those  questions  are  no  less  theoreti- 
riil  than  practifSiK  ami  rfquire  j^ifts  nf  judj;n"i5Ut  and  (liaurimination. 
to|j;ether  with  much  kuox^led^^t;  of  the  past  history  and  literature  of  the 
Church.  If  the  unhappy  silence  of  the  Church  at  home  continues, 
and  they  are  left  for  settlement  here,  clearly  they  should  be  handled 
by  competent  men. 

One  such  question  is  that  whicli,  at.  the  iustancG  of  Government,  in 
under  discussion  by  the  Indian  dergj',  iucludiu^  tlie  Tninisters  of  all 
denominatiiina  of  Chriatisms,  concerning  the  reniamage  of  native 
converts.  A  bill  to  give  that  liberty  was  laid  before  the  Council  of 
the  Governor  Genei'al  of  India  at  the  beginning  of  laat  year  (IStio) 
by  Mr.  Maine,  and  its  further  progress  is  only  postponed  uiitLl  the 
general  opinion  of  its  merits  has  been  ascertained.  Some  of  our 
readers  will  be  interested  in  a  rdsmn^  of  the  bdlj  the  causes  of  it,  the 
ai"gunient3  wliich  nre  urged  for  and  against  it.  But  in  pa,ssing,  we 
would  again  siak,  ^\niy  is  the  discussion  iif  this  f|uestiou  couhned  to 
India  ?  Why  should  a  mle  affecting  the  good  order  and  discipline  of 
native  Christian  cluirches.  with  which  Knglislimen  must  lie  nuiro 
or  less  connected  wliile  England  governs  India,  be  established  or 
rejected  without  appeal  to,  or  advice  of,  the  Church  at  home  ? 

The  case  is  this.  The  married  convert  to  Christitinity,  in  a  vast 
numlier  of  cases,  finds  himself  sejiarated  from  his  wife,  on  and  because 
of  his  conversion.  According  to  Mahometan  aaithorities,  his  niTfe  is 
free  from  previous  obligation,  and  he  \%  virtually  divorced :  according 
to  the  Hindoos,  he  in  as  one  dead.  He  may  euileavour  to  persuade 
his  wife  to  live  with  him ;  unless  lie  can  also  persuade  her  to  be  of 
one  mind  with  himself,  he  has  the  faintest  chance  of  success ;  if  of 
high  caste,  he  h4is  no  chance  at  all, 

Again,  his  marriage  may  have  been  contracted  in  infancy,  and  be 
unconsunimated  at  the  time  of  conversion.  In  either  case  the  law, 
as  it  now  st^inds,  affuiils  him  no  relief.  He  is  bound  to  the  woman 
who  disowns  liim.  for  her  husband,  or  whose  husband  he  Las  never 
been  in  more  than  name.     In  Mr.  Maine's  wordSj — 

"Tlifc  great  mujwity  o.f  Hindnos  were  married  liefoi-c  th<'y  re.^hftd  the 
Qge  of  itaiHoJi.  Cnuverts  lo  t 'liyistiaiiily  weW, howevt-r,  liroiij^ht  Luer  by  the 
o])erfitio]i  (if  twisfiii,  and  the  cfjntUtio]i  of  native  sotiwty  was  auc-ii,  that  reason 
lifld  ifcC'cp.Hsarily  Uiu>.-li  greati't  inlluttnce  over  one  sax  than  the  othiT.  Hence 
the  tendency  of  the  law  in  its  pn<»t«ut  atate  waa  to  produce  a  celibate  class. 


1 


Indian  Questions.  135 

Now  Mr.  Maine  would  lay  down,  even  of  European  countries,  that  a  law 
which  tj  its  direct  incidence  assisted  in  creating  a  class  condemned  to 
celibacy,  was  immoral  and  bad.  And  if  that  was  true  of  Europe,  how  did 
fflfttters  stand  in  India?  The  subject  was  one  which  could  only  be  touched 
upon  lightly,  but  it  was  certain  that  all  the  essential  differences  between 
Oriental  and  Western  society  tended  to  augment  the  immorality  of  the  law 
in  India.  .  .  .  To  an  Oriental  trained  in  the  Zenkn^,  the  very  conception 
of  such  a  life  (of  prolonged  celibacy)  was  probably  unintelligible,  monstrous, 
and  against  nature." 

Two  separate  bills  had  been  previously  drawn  up  to  meet  an  evil 
which  grew  with  the  spread  of  Christianity,  which  placed  the  convert 
in  a  position  that,  considering  the  associations  and  surroundings  of 
his  life,  can  only  be  called  intolerable,  and  which  bore  hard  upon  tlie 
missionary,  who  must  either  consent  to  the  illegal  remarriage  of  the 
convert,  or  acquiesce  in  his  concubinage,  or  leave  him  to  a  trial 
beyond  ordinary  strength.  The  reasons  of  the  difference  cannot  be 
entered  into :  but  our  readers  must  keep  in  mind  Mr.  Maine's  words 
concerning  the  fact  that  there  is  the  widest  possible  difference  between 
voluntary  or  compulfloiy  celibacy  in  Europe,  and  for  Europeans,  and 
compulsory  celibacy  in  India. 

Mr.  Maine,  perhaps  the  most  learned  and  acute  of  modem  legists, 
proposes  to  permit  the  remarriage  of  converts  whose  wives  or  hus- 
bands desert  and  repudiate  them,  under  stringent  conditions  which 
render  abuse  of  the  permission  almost  impossible.  Remarriage  will 
be  ^owed,  but  not  before  more  than  a  year  has  passed  from  the  date 
of  conversion,  after  repeated  judicial  examination  of  tlie  parties,  and 
the  refusal  of  the  one  to  live  with  the  other  on  the  sole  ground  of 
conversion.  Then,  and  not  before,  is  the  convert  allowed  to  remarry. 
The  bill  proposed  is  simply  permissive.  The  convert,  whose  first 
desire  would  be  the  conversion  of  his  wife,  and  whose  sincerity  would 
be  tested  by  unwearied  efforts  to  win  her  back  to  his  home,  wiU 
remain  unmarried  as  long  as  he  has  the  least  hope  of  persuading  his 
wifa  Only  when  all  hope  is  gone,  the  bill  allows  him  to  use  the 
liberty  of  the  Apostle  (ol>  dcdouXwrai  u  aSfX^oc  ^  y\  aSsX^q  \v  rote 
Twovrotc)-  This  is  the  permission  which  the  law  proposes  to  concede; 
bat  no  church  or  religious  society  is  bound  therefore  to  concede  it.  Tlie 
missionary  may  or  may  not,  according  to  the  discipline  of  the  society 
to  which  the  convert  belongs,  withhold  permission.  This  is  an  im- 
portant point,  because  it  appears  that  the  opinions  of  the  missionaries, 
as  a  body,  are  most  strongly  divided.  The  subject  was  discussed  at 
the  Punjab  Conference,  where  the  opinion  inclined  against  remarriage. 
The  discussion  itself,  though  assisted  by  Sir  Herbert  B.  Edwardes, 
was  confined  to  narrow  ground.  The  plain  maxims  of  right  and  equity 
^iy  which  such  a  subject  should  be  weighed,  were  left  out  of  view : 
the  appeal  lay,  as  indeed  was  fitting,  to  the  autliority  of  the  Scrip- 


136  The  Contemporary  Review. 

tares,  but  those  Scriptures  were  interpreted  without  reference  to 
history  and  the  past  experience  of  the  Church.  "All  the  speakers," 
says  Mr.  Maine,  "  appeared  to  have  been  ignorant,  or  to  have  deaign- 
cdly  omitted  all  mention,  of  the  fact  that  the  question  of  the 
remarriage  of  Christian  converts  had  an  ancient  as  well  as  a  modem 
histor}',  and  it  had  only  lost  its  interest  through  the  conversion  of  the 
entire  Western  world  to  Christianity,  and  the  consequent  cessation  of 
marriages  between  Christians  and  heathens."  Mr.  Maine  affirmed, 
that  the  preponderant  weight  of  authority  in  the  early.  Church  was 
in  favour  of  divorce,  where  heathenism,  considered  to  be  spiritual 
ftiiultery,  was  persisted  in.  The  earUest  theological  opinion  and 
Itractice  of  tlie  Clmrcli  were  in  harmony  with  the  bill. 

The  cliief  objections  from  Scripture  which  are  brought  against  it 
are  these : — 

1.  "  Our  Lord's  words  on  S.  Matt.  xix.  9,  and  St.  Paul's  in  Rom. 
vii.  2 ;  1  Cor.  vii.  39,  make  the  marriage  bond  inviolable  wndcr  wtry 
eonccii-ahh  case  except  fornication." 

2.  In  1  Cor.  \-ii.  15,  "the  language  is  too  general  and  mild  for  so 
solemn  a  sanction  as  that  to  remarriage,  and  the  permission  is  simply 
to  a  separation,  not  to  divorce  a.  vinculo  ■matrimonii." 

To  whicli  it  may  be  answered,  (1)  that  it  is  more  than  doubtful 
liow  far  our  Lord's  words  (S.  Matt  xix.  9)  are  applicable  to  the 
present  case,  how  fer  indeed*  "they  bear  upon  the  question  of  a 
l>ersou  divorced  by  judicial  authority;"  and  (2),  supposing  that  they 
apply  to  "every  coucei\'able  case"  of  married  disciplca,  it  seems 
certain,  from  St.  Paid's  own  distinction  in  1  Cor.  vii  12,  "  But  to 
the  rest  speak  I,  not  the  Lord,"  that  they  do  not  apply  to  the  case 
of  mixed  marriages pf-  "that  was  a  question  with  which  He  did  not 
deal  in  His  recorded  discourses."  That  the  question  must  soon  have 
risen  in  the  Church  is  certain  ;  that  it  was  submitted  to  the  judgment 
of  the  Apostle,  and  that  in  this  first  letter  to  the  Corintliians  he  gives 
his  own  opinion  thereon,  is  almost  equally  certain. 

In  answer  t-o  objection  2,  that  the  words,  "  if  the  unbelieving  depart 
let  him  de|mrt ;  a  brother  or  sister  is  not  under  bondage  in  such  cases : 
but  iJod  hath  calleii  us  to  peace,"  are  too  infonual  aud  general  to 
justify  divorce, — Mr.  Maine  speaks  not  as  a  tlieologian,  and  therefore 
liable  to  theologicid  predilections,  but  with  the  more  authority  "as 
iiaving  some  acquaintance  with  legal  antiquities."  "It  was  said 
by  s<.tmo  opjKments  of  tiie  measure,  that  the  text  justified  at  most  a 
tUvorco  a  Mt-»Ai  d  thoro — a  judicial  separation.  That  \-iew  involved 
;ai  anachivnisui.  The  only  divorce  known  in  the  world  when  the 
wonls  werv  written  was  an  al>solute  divorce — (i  I'iacnlo  matrimonii." 

•  Anititc  "XlaTTMg*,"  in  Smith's  "Pictitmarr  of  ih*  BiWc,"  vhetv  the  nihjert  is  ablf 
:;va;eJ.  f  Ali'onl  ii.  hfo. 


Indian  Questions.  137 

It  was  said  that  the  words  were  not  sufficiently  strong  to  warrant 
the  conclusion  drawn  from  them.  "  Mr.  Maine,  stiU  speaking  as  a 
lawyer,  asserted  that  stronger  language  could  not  have  been  used. 
The  words  employed  were  the  technical  words  of  Koman  law  implying 
ahsolute  divorce.  .  ,  .  The  ordinary  formula  of  divorce  was  abi, 
discede,  or  as  the  phrase  would  run  when  turned  into  the  third  person, 
ki  him  depart."* 

It  was  urged  in  the  debate,  that  St.  Paul  was  not  likely  to  use  the 
technical  language  of  the  Roman  forum,  himself  a  native  of  Tarsus,  in 
Asia,  and  writing  to  his  disciples  at  Corinth,  in  Greece.  The  objec- 
tion overlooked  the  fact  of  which  Mr.  Merivale  has  made  such  good 
use  in  his  Boyle  Lectures,  that  St.  Paul  was  a  Roman  citizen,  well 
skilled  in  the  Roman  law  of  persons,  and  therefore  not  at  all  unlikely 
to  employ  the  language  of  it  when  establishing  a  most  important  rule ; 
and  fiirther,  that  Corinth  was  a  Roman  civitas,  where  such  language 
would  be  understood. 

These  are  the  main  objections  brought  against  the  bill  from  the 
ScriptureB,  and  they  are,  on  examination,  more  than  sufficiently  dis- 
posed of.  They  are  deduced  from  the  letter  of  the  text.  But  ought 
not  the  ^irit  of  Christ's  teachiug  to  be  taken  into  account  ?  Some- 
thing is  said  concerning  binding  burdens  "  too  heavy  to  be  borne," 
which  we  ourselves  do  not  "touch,"  not  inapplicable  to  this  case. 
And  where  choice  has  to  be  made  between  two  meanings,  one  lenient, 
Ae  other  severe,  neither  of  which  has  been  so  decidedly  expressed 
as  to  foreclose  doubt  of  the  possibility'  of  the  other,  would  not  the 
mind  of  Christ  persuade  us  to  legislate,  at  least  for  others,  in  the 
spirit  of  the  lenient  rather  than  the  severe  ? 

The  non-scripting  objections  to  the  bill,  on  the  ground  (1)  that 
the  liberty  conceded  is  uncalled  for  except  in  few  cases ;  (2)  inexpe- 
dient, because  most  often  the  wife  is  persuaded  to  rejoin  her  husband ; 
snd  (3)  unjust  to  the  wife  as  the  imoffcnding  party,  because  she  does 
no  wrong  in  refusing  to  live  with  a  Christian  husband,  would,  if  well 
proved,  be  most  valid.  But  each  statement  is  doubtful,  or  denied. 
(1)  In  the  experience  of  many  missionnries  a  large  number  of  con- 
verts do  require  the  permission  to  remarry ;  (2)  if  the  ■wife  returns, 
it  is  only  likely,  according  to  the  objectors'  own  sliowing,  on  her 
conversion  after  many  years  of  separation,  and  there  is  the  obvious 
rejoinder,  "  What  sort  of  life  has  the  convert  been  living  in  the 
interval  ?"  and  (3)  the  law  which  allows  the  wife  to  remarry,  and 
protects  her  personal  and  proprietary  riglits,  is  far  juster  and  more 
merciful  to  her  than  if,  according  to  the  principles  of  all  law,  civilized 

*  The  Debate  is  the  Council  of  the  Governor  General  of  India  on  the  "  Remarriage  of 
Caareils  Bill,"  Calcutta,  186d.    I'p.  4,  5. 


138  Tlie  Contemporary  Review. 

01-  barbarous,  it  compelled  her  to  live  with  a  husband  whom,  in  most 
cases,  "  she  loatlies  with  a  loathing  unknown  to  Europe." 

It  would  be  prematui-e  yet  to  say,  until  more  complete  statistics 
have  been  ascertained,  to  which  side  expediency  inclines.  But  such 
are  the  main  reasons  advanced  for  and  against  the  biU  on  the  grounds 
of  Scripture,  reason,  and  equity,  and  upon  them  discussion  at  home 
may  be  fairly  invited. 

111. 

The  briefest  review  of  the  condition  and  prospect  of  the  Church  in 
India  should  contain  a  notice  of  its  schools.  These  are  of  two  classes, 
one  for  the  education  of  the  children  of  European  parents  and  of  half- 
castes,  and  the  other  for  that  of  natives.  The  neglect  of  the  former 
has  long  been  a  reproach ;  in  consequence  of  it,  European  and  half- 
caste  children  have  grown  up  Indianized  in  the  worst  sense  of  the 
word,  that  is,  in>bued  with  the  vices  of  both  peoples.  The  rolling 
away  of  that  reproach  is  tlie  endeavour  of  the  excellent  Bishop  of 
Calcutta,  and  of  others  who  have  been  awakened  to  the  duty  by  his 
example.  Schools  are  being  established,  or  are  established,  in  most  of 
the  larger  stations,  as  well  as  in  the  Presidencies.  The  question  con- 
cerning them  is  one  of  detail  rather  than  of  principle,  and  calls  for  no 
particular  discussion.  The  difficulties  centre  in  the  want  of  well-quali- 
fied instructors,  of  whom  at  present  there  is  a  most  inadequate  supply. 

When  we  come  to  schools  for  the  education  of  natives,  the  case  is 
different :  the  subject  is  a  large  one,  and  re((uire3  reconsideration. 
The  iirst  tiling  to  be  said  is,  that  there  is  a  great  demand  for  such 
schools.  Whatever  hindrances  the  missionary  meets  in  other  parts  of 
his  work,  here  at  least  his  course  is  free.  The  Hindoos  are  as  ready 
to  receive  as  he  is  to  impart  instruction.  In  some  respects  they  are 
more  ready.  Nor  is  Government  less  zealous  for  the  education  of  tlie 
people,  nor  less  liberal  in  aiding  it.  Hence  the  school  belongs  to 
nearly  ever}'  missionary  station,  and  where  many  Europeans  reside, 
is  well  supported.  Tlie  natives  often  prefer  it  to  the  Government 
school,  avowedly  proselytizing^  as  it  is,  because  it  is  an  English  school, 
and  "  English  is  rupees."  In  many  cases  it  may  be  lioped  that  a 
higher  motive  exists,  and  that  there  is  a  curiosity  felt,  and  desire  of 
knowledge,  independent  of  the  hope  of  gain. 

The  point  of  view  of  most  of  the  missionaries,  as  expressed  at  the 
Punjab  Conference,  is  this : — The  school  is  essential  to  our  work,  be- 
cause it  is  tlic  readiest  means  of  Christianizing  the  young  generation, 
and  only  hecause  it  is  such.  Hence  the  teaching  of  the  Bible  is  con- 
sidered to  be  "  the  primary  end  of  mission  schools,  while  instruction 
in  secular  subjects  is  given  simply  with  a  view  to  that  end,"  and,  as 
one  of  the  sp&kers  at  the  Conference  confessed,  "  because  the  mission- 


Indian  Questions,  139 

aries  could  obtain  no  pupils  willing  to  enter  for  the  sake  of  receiving 
instraction  in  the  Bible  only."    The  case  should  be  fairly  stated  from 
the  side  of  the  majority  of  the  missionaries.     As  a  body,  and  leaving 
out  the  opinion  of  the  very  few  of  whom  no  account  need  be  taken, 
they  would  gladly  see  the  natives  highly  instructed.     They  have  no 
mean  jealousy  of  the  advance  of  knowledge.     But  they  think   that 
the  schoolmaster's  task  is  not  theirs,  or  theirs  only  by  an  unavoidable 
necessity.    Setting  before  them  the  one  object  of  Christianizing  India, 
and  believing  that  such  Christianization  of  the  new  generation  of 
natives  is  to  be  effected  by  teaching  the  truths  of  the  Bible  only,  they 
keep  school  for  that  object.     If  they  could,  they  would  teach  the 
Bible  only;  but  because  they  cannot  get  children  together  on  such 
terms,  they  will  teach  other  subjects  as  well,  grudgingly  and  of  neces- 
sity.    Kay,  further,  such  resolute  faith  have  many  missionaries  in 
teaching  the  letter  of  the  Scriptures,  that  where  native  Cliristians  are 
not  to  be  had  as  teachers,  they  will  employ  Hindoos  or  Mussulmans 
to  give  instruction  in  the  Scriptures.     It  is  true  that  few  missionaries 
at  the  Conference  defended  such  a  proceeding,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
because  the  books  of  the  Vernacular  Society,  which  are  in  general  use, 
are  full  of  as  much  Biblical  instruction  as  it  is  possible  on  every  subject 
bat  arithmetic  to  throw  into  them,  instruction  more  or  less  of  a  Biblical 
cast  isJih  to  the  duty  of  the  teachers,  whether  Christian  or  heathen. 

"We  have  reason  to  believe  that  there  are  many  dissentients,  among 
the  more  thoughtful  and  educated  missionaries,  from  tliis  view  and 
course  of  action;  but  the  readers  of  the  proceedings  of  the  Punjab 
Conference  will  see  that  it  is  the  prevalent  one,  and  that  we  have 
fairly  stated  it.    It  is  unquestionably  open  to  grave  doubts,  if  it  is  not 
altf^ether  wrong.     For  it  may  be  asked,  What  difference  is  there 
between  the  principle  which  should  govern  the  school  for  heathen 
children  and  that  for  Christian  ?     If  education  be  in  itseK,  and  quite 
independent  of  the  amount  of  Biblical  knowledge  conveyed,  a  truly 
religious  work  in  the  case  of  the  Christian  chikl,  why  not  also  in  the 
case  of  the  heathen  ?     If  it  is  not  good  for  the  mind  of  the  Christian 
child  to  be  dwarfed  and  stunted,  is  it  good  for  tlie  heathen  ?     If  the 
spirit  which  withheld  from  the  children  of  National  Schools  at  liome 
all  other  instruction  but  that  of  the  Catechism,  Scripture  history, 
leading,  writing,  and  the  four  first  rules  of  arithmetic,  is  a  spirit  of 
which  we  are  ashamed,  why  should  it  sun'ive  to  Iw  acted  on  in  India  ? 
Again,  it  is  more  than  doubtful  whether  the  ol)ject  of  evangelizing 
the  young  generation  of  natives  can  be  reached  by  means  of  instruc- 
tion in  the  truths  of  the  Bible  only.     Texts  which  the  teachers  sui>- 
pose  to  embody  the  whole  scheme  of  salvation  are  quickly  learned, 
and  the  knowledge  of  Jewish  history  and  antiquities,  not  to  say  the 
discourses,  parables,  and  miracles  of  our  Lord,  are  soon  got  by  rote 


140 


The.  Contemporary  Revitw. 


tincl  r^pcfited  at  examinatioas;  but  does  such  knowledge,  learnt  as  a 
les9un,  "bring  the  learner  near  to  that  conversion  of  heart  and  life 
which  i.s  the  ciiie  en<l  ol  the  Tnissionary's  lahour  ?  Is  it  not  thia  class 
which  furnishes  the  acofiers  as  woll  as  the  hardened  imbelievere  ? 
Can  a  greater  wrong  be  done  to  sacred  literature,  than  for  the  Scrip- 
tures to  be  convert*;d  into  a  readini,'  ami  olaas-book  ? 

To  leave  the  grnimd  of  mere  Biipitositiou,  what  is  the  actual  faot? 
In  the  atftteraent  of*'reaann3  lor  siloing  the  clerical  petition  against 
thti  Itemarria^'-e  of  Cnnverts  Bill,  by  the  llev.  A.  M.  Uanerjeii,  aecoud 
prafesBor  ut'  BishojVa  College;,  Calciittii,"  we  (iiid  the  following : — "  The 
dtipartment  of  Auglu-^'ernaoular  schools  .  .  .  ia  one  which  has, 
comparatively,  been  barren  of  resnUs*  and  led  to  hut  few  instances  of 
liaptisiu,  hearing  tJ^)  the  wlmh;  boily  of  nutive  Christians  a  proportion 
of  not  more  thao  two  or  three  in  a  thi>usand."-f 

The  experience  of  most  readers  will  hear  us  out  in  saying,  that  the 
deepest  religious  iiupressions  whiuh  they  received  in  youth  were  not 
those  which  they  learned  from  a  hook,  but  from  the  li\-iug  voice. 
tone,  manner  of  hira  who  taught  it  as  a  Divina  message,  and  by  liia 
own  quiet  euraestuess  riveted  attention,  untl  imparted  the  spiritual 
giit  It  is  bibliolatry  of  the  worst  kind  to  expect  from  the  letter  that 
wliicli  the  spirit  Edoue  can  give.  If  this  be  thought  an  unjust  sus- 
picion of  the  proceeding  of  so  many  devoted  raissioaaries,  it  must 
lie  asked,  What  else  is  the  reason  why  they  place  the  letter  to  be 
taught  to  the  cliildi'en  of  their  schoolis  in  the  hands  of  heathens  and 
unbelievers  ? 

There  is  j  broader  view  of  the  question,  which  need  only  be  hinted 
at.  English  science,  language,  and  literature  will  not  do  the  niission- 
ary's  work,  nor  aceomplish  the  conversion  of  India.  But  the  conviction 
is  more  and  more  gaining  ground,  and  that  too  we  believe  aniong  the 
ablest  missioniuies,  tliat  these  are  divinely  intended  to  prepare  the 
way  for  it. 

The  positive  knowledge  of  the  outward  world  \vhic.U  science  gives  i^ 
the  massive  hammer  to  shiver  in  pieces  the  whule  fabric  of  Hindoo 
idolatry.  The  large  inquiry,  the  patient  waiting  for  results,  whicli  is 
the  very*  spirit  of  science,  surely  unilemnnes  the  dogmatism  of  the 
Mussidman,  and  insjiirea  doubt  of  the  suiliciency  of  the  fonuida,  "  It  is 
■WTitteu."     English  literatm-e  does  more.     It  ia  the  product  of  geniu^ 

•  Tke  Italice  tire  not  ouri. 

t  Mi.  lifljifjicft  adds  in  a  aoto,— "I  nm  not  (ioptwiatiBg  the  Tftlui*  of  such  nol 
iiMtituCJuns  us  tho9G  oftlic  Free  Chiirvh,  thp  (rDiuml  Ansembiy,  nnd  tho  IrfitLdim  MisBiana 
Sofigty,  or  our  own  Cattedml  Mis^it>ti  College.  They  lire  diiing  a.  groat  preparatory  ivo 
in  unbu-iiig  the  njinda  of  tlnff  rUin-g  generotiun  of  CabuCta-  Bui  I  uu  ualng  hore  tc 
which  I  hnvo  hii>iLrd  missioDiiriL'a  tlieniBelveB  eniplcy,  anJ  I  u-ni  only  itating  whnt  tie  tun- 
dllttora  of  tUow  inatitulions  have  neTCr  denied,  that  aa  rpptrds  the  yrespul.  nunttricat 
■trcngth  of  the  uative  Chufdi,  those  semiiilLrifs  have  not  jret  contributed  much  to  it." 


Indian  Questions.  141 

trained  in  schools  of  ancient  philosophy  and  Christian  learning.  It  is 
the  nohlest  fruit  of  Christian  civilization.  It  will  not  he  supposed 
that  this  literature  can  he  studied  and  appreciated — and  the  highest 
Hindoo  mind  shows  no  little  aptitude  for  the  study,  and  much  power 
of  appreciation, — without  that  essence  of  Christian  lioliness,  which 
more  or  less  pervades  it — goodness,  justice,  mercy  and  truth, — sinking 
deep  down  and  taking  root.  If  there  is  faintness  of  heart  and  dis- 
couragement because  of  the  seeming  slowness  of  the  conversion  of 
India,  it  is  because  men  look  for  the  story  of  that  converaion  in  the 
numerical  result  of  single  instances  rather  than  in  the  progress  of  the 
preliminary  stages.  The  Brahma  Samaj  alone  is  a  convincing  proof 
what  high  and  noble  moral  aims  European  education  in  secular  sub- 
jects, as  they  are  somewhat  slightingly  called,  is  capable  of  inspiring.* 
That  culture  may  be  intended  to  fill  the  same  place  in  the  preparation 
of  Hindoos  as,  in  the  judgment  of  the  most  honoured  of  Christian 
Fathers,  Greek  philosophy  filled  to  the  Greeks,  Hebrew  law  and 
prophecy  to  Hebrews.  So  too  may  English  law,  with  its  maxims  of 
justice  and  equity,  be  the  schoolmaster  to  lead  the  men  of  this  land 
to  Christ. 

Such  seems  the  not  extravagant  conclusion  from  any  faith  in  Divine 
Providence, — which  has  not  left  the  world  to  perish  in  darkness — 
which  works  out  its  own  ends  no  less  by  English  rule  and  government 
in  India,  than  by  the  weak  and  divided,  though  noble  and  strenuous 
efforts  of  some  few  missionaries. 

If  this  conclusion  be  a  reasonable  one,  then  doubt  is  thrown  on 
the  wisdom  of  those  missionaries  who  consider  education  in  itself  a 
secular  work  rather  than  a  Divine  instrument,  equally  with  preaching, 
for  the  conversion  of  India,  or  who  confine  their  instnictions,  as  far  as 
they  can,  to  lessons  on  the  Bible.  It  is  only  from  such  schools,  in 
which  education  itself  is  considered  a  sacred  duty,  that  the  spirit  shall 
arise  to  speak  with  no  "  stammering  lips  and  other  tongue "  of  the 
foreigner  to  the  hearts  of  Hindoos,  to  reawaken  in  the  millions  of  the 
land  the  prayer  for  "  the  adorable  light  of  the  Divine  Ruler ;  may  it 
guide  our  intellects."f 

*  This  BOfietj  (the  word  lamaj  means  an  association,  erehna)  was  founded  in  1830  by 
Bijth  Eammohan  K07,  for  the  purpose  of  muataining  and  diffusing  the  pare  ethical 
Inching  and  the  devout  Theism  which  had  been  the  fruit  of  his  contac^t  with  Christian 
Irath.  It  has  had  considerftble  influence  among  the  educated  class  of  natives,  and  has 
held  regular  meetings,  in  Calcutta  and  elsewhere,  for  worship  and  instruction.  Kecently,  I 
uninformed,  there  has  been  a  division  in  the  body,  ono  section  adhering  to  their  founder's 
pnndple  of  leaving  cute,  as  a  national  institution,  untouched ;  the  othsr,  with  more 
nrnestness  in  their  protest  against  old  abuses,  feeling  bound  to  wage  war  against  it,  as 
ilw  against  idolatrous  usages. 

t  The  quotation  is  from  the  hymn  known  as  the  Goyatri  in  the  Rig* Veda,  which  is 
recited  morning  and  erening  by  devout  Brahmins. 


SUNDAY. 


IT  will  be  within  the  knowledge  of  most  readers  that  a  controversy 
has  sprung  up  on  this  subject  in  a  very  unexpected  quarter,  and 
threatens  to  assume  very  formidable  dimeneions.  As  often  happens, 
the  starting-point  was  an  occasion  of  comparatively  small  importance. 
The  North  British  Eailway  Company,  having  come  into  possession  of 
tlie  line  between  Edinbui^h  and  Glasgow,  signalized  its  new  pro- 
jirietorship  by  running  Sunday  tmins  where  none  had  run  before. 
The  clerg}',  and  many  of  the  laity,  of  Glasgow  were  alarmed  at  what 
seemed  to  them  to  threaten  a  revolutionary'  change  in  the  national 
oltser\-ance  of  the  Sabbath.  A  meeting  of  the  Presbytery  of  the 
1-jstablished  Church  was  convened,  and  it  was  agreed  to  issue  a 
jiastoral  address  on  the  subject.  The  language  of  the  address 
was  temperate,  that  of  the  speakers  far  from  violent.  Their 
case  was  rested,  however,  on  the  assumption  that  the  Fourth.  Com- 
mandment was  at  once  the  ground  and  the  rule  of  the  observance 
of  the  Lonl's  day,  anil  an  amendment,  with  a  \-iew  to  the  omission  of 
the  clause  affirming  this,  was  moved  by  Pr.  Norman  ilacleod,  of  the 
IJarony  Church,  Glasgow,  the  well-known  editor  of  Good  Words.  At 
tui  adjourned  meeting  on  November  ItUh,  he  supported  the  amendment 
in  a  siM?och  which  took  three  hours  in  deliver\-,  and  which  has  since 
Ihm'h  publishetl,  but  was  defeated  by  a  majority  of  twenty-three  to  four. 
It  is  pleasant  to  Ite  able  to  acknowledge,  as  Dr.  Madeod  himself 


Sunday.  143 

1ms  done,  the  Christian  courtesy,  candour,  and  gentlemanly  bearing 
which  characterized  the  discussion  of  the  Presbyteiy.  There  was  little 
or  nothing  of  the  bitterness  which  has  so  often  disgraced  contro- 
versies on  this  subject — a  total  absence  of  the  extravagance  which 
led  the  Presbytery  of  Strathbogie,  ia  1658,  to  condemn  an  offender 
accused  of  sabbath-breaking  for  saving  the  life  of  a  sheep  ;*  and 
which,  in  1863,  prompted  the  Free  Church  Presbytery  of  the  same 
district  (as  though  their  teeth  were  still  set  on  edge  with  the 
sour  grapes  which  their  fathers  had  eaten)  to  present  Good  Words 
to  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Free  Church  because  it  had 
admitted  a  paper  by  Mr.  Thorold,  the  excellent  rector  of  St.  Giles', 
London,  advocating,  among  other  things,  the  practice  of  allowing  boys 
at  school  to  write  letters  to  their  parents  on  the  leisure  hours  of 
Sunday.  The  speeches  of  Dr.  Macduff,  Mr.  Charteris,  and  others, — ^we 
may  add  also,  the  paper  on  this  subject  by  Dr.  Hanna  (the  son-in- 
law  and  biographer  of  Thomas  Chalmers),  in  the  Sunday  Magazine  for 
December  last, — present  a  refreshing  contrast  to  this  unintelligent 
narrowness.  Concessions  were  made  which  would  have  startled  those 
who,  in  the  General  Assembly  of  1834,  declared  a  Sunday  walk 
("wandering  in  the  fields" — grouped  together  with  "riot,  drunkenness, 
and  other  immoralities")  to  be  a  breach  of  the  commandment.  Dr. 
Macduff  spoke  with  approval  of  the  opening  of  the  parks  of  Glasgow 
"  when  the  sabbath  services  are  over."  It  was  allowed  by  Mr.  Char- 
teris that  some  cabs  and  omnibuses  might  legitimately  ply  on  the 
Lord's  day  ;  that  one  morning  and  one  evening  train  might,  if  there 
was  fair  eWdence  of  their  being  wanted,  legitimately  run.  In  prac- 
tical suggestions  for  the  observance  of  the  day,  Dr.  Macleod  and  his 
opponents  were,  for  the  most  part,  of  one  mind.  What  startled  and 
alarmed  them  was  that  lie  threw  overboard  the  principle  on  which 
they  laid  stress — that  the  Lord's  day  rests  upon  the  Fourth  Com- 
mandment ;  that  he  went  on,  with  a  Lutber-like  boldness,  to  declare 
that  the  Decalogue  itself,  qud  Decalogue,  was  no  longer  binding  on 
those  who  had  accepted  the  law  of  their  Master,  Christ ;  that  the 
moral  elements  of  it  are  of  perpetual  force,  not  because  they  are  there, 
but  because  they  are  moral,  part  of  the  eternal  will  of  God,  incor-. 
porated  with  the  teaching  of  our  Lord.f    To  them  the  former  position 

•  Hesfley's  "Btunpton  Lectiires,"  p.  291. 

t  Nothing,  of  course,  is  easier  for  those  who  simply  want  a  "cry  to  go  to  tlie  country 
with  "  Uian  to  repeat  incessantly  that  Dr.  Macleod  sets  aside  the  authority  of  all  the  Ten 
Commandmenta.  Those  who  io  not  Bhrink  from  low  jesting  on  the  gravest  questions  will 
add  to  that  cry  that,  if  his  teaching  gains  ground,  they  must  lock  np  their  spoons  and  look 
after  their  wivea.  Men  who  wish  to  deal  with  facts  as  they  are,  will  recognise  that  what 
he  maintains  ia  einiply  this,  that  every  couimandmcat  but  the  fourth  was  binding  before 
the  law  was  given  on  Sinai,  would  have  Icen  binding  now,  even  if  that  law  had  never  been 
given,  and  ia  actually  binding  on  the  consciences  of  Christian  men,  not  because  it  waa  then 


144  ^'^^  Contemporary  Review. 

seemed  to  undermine  the  only  ground  on  which  the  holiness  of  the- 
Lord's  day  could  be  maintained,  the  latter  to  let  in  an  unbridled 
Antinomianiam.  It  is  to  their  honour  that,  in  spite  of  their  fears, 
they  continued  to  use  the  language  of  courtesy  and  calmness.  The 
vehemence  of  popular  religious  feeling,  however,  has  gone  far  beyond 
the  moderation  of  the  Presbytery,  and  Dr.  Macleod  is  probably,  at 
present,  one  of  the  best  abused  men  in  Great  Britain.  Journal  after 
journal  declaims  against  him,  as  Enghsh  religious  newspapers  have 
declaimed  (with  more  reason,  it  must  be  owned)  against  the  Bishop  of 
Natal  and  the  writers  of  "  Essays  and  Reviews."  Even  the  hannony 
of  a  Scottish  benevolent  dinner,  at  which  he  presided,  was  not  secure 
from  an  unseemly  interruption  by  his  opponents.  In  the  points 
which  affect  him  personally  he  is  well  able  to  defend  himself  and 
the  heartiness  and  benignity  of  his  character  are  a  pledge  that  he  at 
least  will  not  answer  "  railing  for  railing."  His  speech  deserves  to 
be  studied  as  a  vigorous  and  remarkable  protest  against  the  dominant 
feeling  of  his  countrymen,  and  yet  more  of  the  cleigy  of  hia  Churck 
In  most  parts  of  his  case  his  position  is  a  strong  one.  Even  where  it 
seems  weakest, — the  difficulty  of  reconciling  liis  teaching  with  that  of 
the  documentary  standards  which  constitute,  as  it  were,  the  daposiiwrn 
fidei  of  both  the  Established  and  the  Free  Churches, — it  may  be  legi- 
timately contended  that  the  Westminster  Confession  (sxL  8)  leaves 
some  room  for  discussion  what  are  "  works  of  necessity  and  mercy," 
that  the  Laiger  Catechism  leaves  a  like  opening  when  it  speaks,  as 
forbidden,  of  "  unnecessary  acts,  words,  or  thouglits  concerning  worldly 
business  or  recreation,"  and  leaves  the  same  licence,  in  the  same  terms, 
for  "  works  of  necessity  and  mercy."  If  it  be  urged  that  this  leaves 
Dr.  Macleod's  statement  as  to  the  groimd  of  the  duty  still  at  variance 
with  that  of  liis  formularies,  the  answer  may  be  put  in  to  which 
Principal  Tulloch  has  already  given  prominence,  that  confessions  of 
faith,  such  as  those  in  question,  cannot  rightfully  be  held  to  stereo- 
type all  the  opinions  of  their  compilers  on  all  questions  touclied  upon 
— historical,  ethical,  dogmatical, — and  impose  them  upon  the  minds  of 
men  for  ever ;  and  that,  so  long  as  they  continue,  the  assent  given  to 
them  is  (as  it  has  been  now  formulated  by  Parliament,  with  the 
hearty  concurrence  of  the  Church  of  England,  so  far  as  that  concur- 
rence can  be  expressed)  general,  and  not  special, — to  the  nmin  tone 
and  current  of  teaching,  not  to  each  individual  detail. 

vritten  on  the  tables  of  stone,  but  because  it  is  written  on  the  "  fleshy  t&blea  of  the 
heart,"  and  has  been  confinned  and  eipanilcd  by  the  teaching  of  oui  Saviour,  Chrirt.  To 
represent  the  moral  laws  of  God  as  depending  upon  the  thunders  of  Sinai  for  their  validi^, 
and  all  laws  bo  given  as  equally  binding,  must  lead  either  to  Judaism,  if  we  believe  the 
Sinaitic  law,  as  such,  to  continue,  or  to  Antinomianiam,  if  we  believe  it,  u  auch,  to  have 
passed  away. 


Sunday.  145 

It  is  not  without  some  reluctance  tliat  I  venture  to  take  any  pai-t 
in  a  controversy,  the  literature  of  which  is  already  so  volumiuous,  and 
ffliich  exposes  those  who  meddle  with  it  to  such  formidable  attacks. 
If  I  have  heen  led  to  overcome  that  reluctance,  it  is  partly  in  tlie 
hope  that,  writing  at  a  distance  from  the  passions  which  it  lias 
Toased,  yet  having  many  points  of  contact  with  those  who  are  com- 
batants on  either  side,  and  a  profound  respect  for  the  feelings  of  both 
parties,  I  may  be  able  to  gain  a  hearing,  and  partly  liecause  I 
believe  there  are  some  facts,  likely  enough  to  be  overlooked  in  the 
tieat  of  debate,  which  are  yet  of  some  importance  in  tlieir  bearing 
on  the  points  at  issue. 

1.  State  of  the  Uiiestion. 
It  is  well  that  we  should  begin  by  noticing  how  the  matter  at 
present  stands,    how   far  both   parties   are   agreed,   and   where    tlie 
divergence  begins.     It  is  admitted  then,  I  imagine,  on  both  sides, 
that  there  is  an   incalculable  gain  to  the   well-being  of  mankind, 
physical,  social,  moral,  in  thus  recognising  one  day,  recurring  at  fixed 
anil  sliort  intervals  of  time,  as  a  day  of  general  rest;  that  the  rest 
ought  not  to  be  a  mere  animal  cessation  from  manual  or  mental 
labour,  but  a  time  for  strengthening  and  refreshing  the  spiritual  life 
with  whicli  that  laliour  tends  to  interfere ;  that  for  this  end,  it  Ls  well 
tliat  the  day  of  general  rest  should  be  also  a  day  of  general  worship. 
It  is  agreed  on  both  sides,  fmther,  that  there  is  an  indefinitely  strong 
prescription  in  favom-  of  a  fixed  order  giving  one  day  in  seven  as  the 
day  of  rest;  that  that  prescription  applies  equally  whether  men  reckon 
the  day  so  kept  as  the  first  or  hist  of  the  seven ;  that  for  the  whole 
Christian  Church  that  prescription  is  now,  and  has  been  for  eighteen 
centuries,  in  favour  of  keeping  the  first,  and  not  the  seventh;  that, 
on  the  grounds  of  its  tendency  to  promote  the  well-being  of  the 
people,  it  is  the  right,  and  may  be  the  duty,  of  the  State  to  interpose, 
by  positive  enactment,  and  therefore   by  penalties,  to  protect  those 
vhom  the  rest  woidd  benefit  against  the  selfishness  tliat  would  deprive 
them  of  it     It  would  be  conceded,  probably,  that  the  State  ought  to 
refrain  from  this  interference  if  thei-e  were  the  probability  of  its  doing 
more  harm  than  good,  and  that  something  must  be  left  to  the  judgment 
and  conscience  of  individual  men.     It  might  seem  as  if  Jiliis  agree- 
ment were  enough  to  insure  common  concert.     Men  niight  mget  to 
cuDsider  how   far  a  given  regulation  would  make  the  day  of  rest  so 
set  apart  a  reality,  and  lead  to  the  right  use  of  it,  how  far  it  could 
he  put  in  force  without  the  risk  of  greater  evils. 

Here,  however,  the  difiereuce  begbis.     "  We  admit  all  this,"  it  is 
Mid  on  one  side,  "but  we  claim  much  more.     We  cannot  rest  the 
obligation  of  the  Sabbath  on  reasons  of  general  expediency.     To  do  so 
VOL.  L  L 


1^6  The  Contemporary  Review. 

is  to  descend  fi-om  a  high  and  secure  position,  and  fight  the  battle  ou 
a  ground  chosen  by  the  enemy.  We  cannot  rest  any  moral  command- 
ment on  tliat  ground.  M'e  cannot  begin  the  discussion  from  that 
fttarting-point.  This  law  rests,  as  other  moral  lava  rest,  on  the 
i-evealed  will  of  God.  We  cannot  mutilate  and  modify  that  law 
because  there  is,  or  seems  to  be,  a  balance  of  gain  in  doing  so.  We 
point  to  the  law  given  on  Sinai  as  binding  still.  We  see  in  it  traces 
of  a  yet  more  primitive,  more  universal  law.  We  see  in  the  teaching 
of  our  Master,  Christ,  a  sanction,  direct  or  implied,  not  only  of  the 
principle  of  the  law,  but  of  the  law  itself  We  see  in  the  observance 
of  one  day  in  seven  ))y  the  Christian  Cbui-ch  a  recognition  of  the 
binding  character  of  the  law.  AVe  look  ujton  the  transfer  of  the 
observance  from  the  seventh  day  to  the  first  as  a  point  immaterial. 
Perhaps  it  was  but  a  return  to  the  true  motle  of  reckoning,  a  reform 
of  some  error  in  the  Jewish  calendar ;  perhaps  it  was  solemnly  sanc- 
tioned by  the  apostles,  acting  under  the  guidance  of  the  Spirit,  in 
order  to  unite  with  the  weekly  rest  the  commemoration  of  the  resur- 
rection of  Christ,  the  expression  of  the  tnith  that  in  our  rest  from 
labour  we  too  are  to  rise  to  newness  of  life.  But,  whatever  may  have 
been  the  motive  of  the  change,  the  obligation  has  been  transferred. 
We  must  maintain  that  tlte  law  binds  us  as  strictly  as  it  bound 
tlie  Jews.  We  must  ask  the  State  to  help  us  in  mahitaining  it ;  we 
must  protest  against  any  relaxation  of  existing  rigour." 

Tliere  is  much  in  this  feeling  with  which  I  profoundly  symj>athize. 
I  am  at  one  with  tliose  who  feel  that  it  is  a  poor  thing  to  rest  any 
duty  on  mere  ex])ediency,  and  that  tliere  is  no  safe  standai-d  but  that 
of  conformity  to  the  Divine  will.  If  men  maintain  this  conviction  in 
the  face  of  much  seoni,  obloquy,  and  ridicule,  they  are,  so  far,  worthy 
of  all  honour.  I  cannot  set  much  store  on  the  argument  that  the 
Fourth  Commandment  is  ipso  farfo  set  aside  by  the  mere  transfer  of  the 
immerical  position  of  the  day,  seeing  that  that  transfer  leaves  its  com- 
memorative, moral,  and  even  symbolical  cliaracter  unaflfected,  except 
in  the  way  of  expansion  and  development  But  the  iwsition  thus 
taken  up  suggests  two  inquiries :  (1)  "What  are  the  logical  consequences 
which  flow  from  it  ?  (2)  What  are  the  grounds  on  which  it  rests  ?  I 
deal  with  these  questions  in  their  order. 

(1.)  It  is,  I  think,  clear  that  if  the  Fourth  Commandment  be,  as  such, 
and  in  its  letter,  binding  on  all  Christians,  there  should  be  no  tamper- 
ing with  it.  The  question  is  reduced  simply  to  the  issue,  what  is 
"  work"  ?  and  then,  when  this  has  been  defined  by  casuists  and  lawj-ers, 
all  acts  are  to  be  tried  by  the  definition,  and  forbidden  or  permitted 
accordingly.  In  interpreting  the  statute  we  could  have  no  better 
guide  than  the  contemporaneous  enactments  of  the  same  lawgiver; 
and  these,  in  this  instance,  forbade  the  amount  of  exertion  implied  in 


Sunday.  147 

withering  maima  from  the  ground  (Exod.  xv.  2C),  in  li<,'Iiting  a  fire 
(Exo<i.  XXXV.  3),  in  picking  up  sticks  for  fuel  (Numb.  xv.  32).  It 
might  I)e  questioned  how  far  later,  merely  human,  logislatiou  woidd  be 
justified  ill  lowering  the  sanction  of  tlie  law  by  mitigating  the  penalty, 
and  the  law  prescribed  no  lighter  penalty  than  ileatli  (Exod.  xxxi  15  ; 
Kumb.  XV.  36).  It  would  seem  tliat  if  human  lawgivers  might  not 
take  away,  neither  might  they  add.  The  law  commands  the  Sabbath 
to  be  "  kept  holy,"  but  it  defines  the  holiness  as  consisting  in  the 
absence  of  work  (Exod.  xxxi.  15),  and  contains  no  enactment  for 
religious  ordinances,  no  prohibition  of  recreation  and  refreshment. 
Lof^cally,  then,  all  work — household,  commercial,  official,  nn'Iitary, 
naval — ought  to  cease  absolutely,  and  without  excei'tlon,  under  the 
severest  penalty.  Tlie  lighting  of  a  fire,  the  lioiling  of  water,  the 
supply  of  milk,  is  as  the  nuining  of  a  railway  train.  The  gnat  and 
llie  camel  stand  on  the  same  footing.  Those  who  shrink  from  these 
consequences  may  full  liack  upon  two  methods  of  escape  ;• — (a)  They 
may  say  that  circumstances  are  changed,  that  the  rigour  and  the 
penalty  were  needed  for  the  education  of  the  Jews,  but  are  not  needed 
for  as ;  that  we  must  look  to  the  ends  which  the  law  contemplated, 
Mid  be  true,  not  to  its  letter,  but  to  its  spirit.  But  this  is  to  shift  the 
*hole  ground.  The  moment  you  talk  of  "  circumstances,"  and 
"temporary  necessities,"  and  "looking  to  tlie  spirit,"  you  cease  to  be 
interpreting  a  statute.  You  treat  the  law  as  obsolete  or  repealed,  and 
issnme  that  you  have  some  knowledge  of  the  intentions  of  the  law- 
girer,  and  are  able  to  approximate  to  what  he  meant  in  a  law  which 
is  no  longer  applicable.  It  may  be  that  yon  have ;  but  then  tlie 
qnestion  is,  as  I  said,  altered.  You  cannot  press  on  others  the  very 
kter  which  you  have  set  aside.  You  must  look  to  otiier  evidence 
than  the  commandment  itself  of  what  is  the  mind  and  will  of  God. 
You  must  have  recourse  either  to  general  principles  of  ethics,  or  to 
tome  special,  and,  if  it  may  be,  Divine  authority.  {U)  It  may  be 
contended  that  that  authority  is  not  far  to  seek.  "  The  teaching 
of  Christ,"  it  is  said,  "  at  once  sanctions  and  juodifies,  treats  the 
Sabbath  as  of  binding  obligation,  '  made  for  man,'  but  leaves  it  ojten 
to 'do  good'  on  the*Sabbath  day,  to  save  the  life  of  man  or  beast, 
to  heal  the  sick  by  supernatural  power,  and,  by  parity  of  reasoning, 
to  attempt  to  heal  by  ordinary  skill.  He  manifests  Himself  as  the 
lord  of  the  Sabbath,  and,  with  a  dispensing  power,  at  once  interi)rets 
and  confirms."     I  need  not  say  that  I  look  uixm  our  I^ord's  teaching, 

*  The  Pnritiuis  of  the  seventeenth  century  did  noi  shrink  from  foncliiBions  such  as 
Aw.  Sharing,  walking  in  a  garden,  cooking  victuals,  it  mother's  kissing  her  child,  wuro 
pf»crf  by  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  of  New  Eagland  under  the  same  anathema.  (Hcssey, 
"Bunploo  Lectures,"  p.  46fi.)  Men  were  found  to  maintain  that  a  man  might  oa  well 
(Shis  child's  throat  u  play  howls  on  a  Sunday.  '\Vho  was  to  say  that  one  Divine  com- 
IUikI  was  more  binding  tlun  tnothcr  ?     (Collier,  "Church  History,"  vii.  1S2.) 


\ 


14S 


The  Contemporary  Review, 


liy  word  and  act,  in  relabiou  tu  the  Sablwitli  as  of  infinite  impciTtHiii-t'. 

I  shall  return  to  it  hy-and-bye.  ^\^lat  I  wish  to  note  here  is,  that 
while  there  is  an  iiiimen&e  imveiliiig  and  dis-cuveiy  of  tUe  truth  in 
it,  if  we  take  His  words  as  sTibstitutin;^  in  this,  as  in  othyr  tiling's, 
a  princiihle  for  a  preceyjt, — the  starting-pijint  of  Ofw  applicationa  of  a 
law  wliich  does  not  depend  upon  the  "written  statute, — they  go  but 
a  liMto  way  if  we  treat  tbeiu  simply  os  coinnieuts-  w  riders  to  b 
statute  "W'tiieh  continues  in  full,  unabate<l  force.  They  do  not»  in 
their  letter,  take  away  the  jienalty  or  the  strictness  except  in  the 
epecitied.  iiistiuices.  They  sanctLau  works  whioh  are  directly  connecteil 
with  worship,  or  with  the  relief  of  jiaiu,  or  with  the  preservation  of 
life.  They  leave  the  lighting;  the  lire,  or  the  yatheriiig  of  sticks,  still 
under  the  old  condemnation, 

(3.)  It  cwnains  then  to  ask,  wti.at  are  the  grounds  on  wlnoL  the 
supposed  obligation  re^ts;  and  this  lemia  \*i  nu  historical  iuiiuirj-. 

2.  The  SBblath  of  thu  PalriAKihs. 

I  am  reluctant  to  enter  upon  the  vexed  question  of  the  eKistence 
of  a  Sfthbath,  with  or  witlmnt  a  definite  law,  prior  to  the  Exo<1tis. 
Wlierc  the  facts  ni¥  Rn  few,  we  need  be  on  our  guard  against  losiu;^  our 
way  in  the  cloudlainl  of  conjectures.  The  i^hlef  points  seem  tliese:^ 
(1.)  There  is  no  trace  of  such  a  law  in  the  paradise  state  of  Gen.  11 
smd  iii.  The  one  eonitnand  which  conatitntes  the  triiil  nf  Ailani  i? 
that  whieli  forbids  liiui  tn  eat  i>f  the  fruit  of  "'the  tree  nf  knowledge 
of  good  and  evil."  It  is  hardly  conceivable,  if  sueh  a  command  had 
been  j|:iven,  that  it  should  have  romained  without  a  lecord.  It  does 
not  enter  into  the  hi.story  of  the  Fall.  Theie  is  notliing  to  show 
even  that  the  Divine  Sabbath  was  revealed  to  the  new-erented  njan, 
(2.)  There  is  a  like  nej^Mtive  aii^ument  in  the  hbtory  of  Noah.  Law 
bc!comc9  wilier,  takes  in  more  aina,  and  therefore  more  duties  ;  but 
thia  is  not  among  them,  and  was  never  reekon&l  by  the  Jews  aa  among 
the  precepts  given  to  him  (Gen.  ix.  1 — T).  The  bow  in  tbe  cloud,  not 
the  Sabbath,  wjis  the  sign  of  Ihe  covenant  then.  So  in  like  niamier; 
circumcision,  not  the  Sabbath,  was  given  to  Abraham  as  the  sign  of 
the  covenant  with  him  (Oen.  xvii.  !J).  Tliere  are.  on  the  other  hand, 
it  may  be  allowed,  traces  of  a  special  sacitidni'SS  in  the  niunher  seven 
(Gun.  vii.  3  ;  xxix.  IS),  tmces  of  au  hehdotnadal  clivisiim  of  time 
(Gen.  vii.  4,  10;  viii.  12;  xxJs.  27),  which  imply  ]irobahly  some 
observance  of  one  day  in  sevun;  and  it  i&  possible  (I'ut  Me  cannot  say 
uiore  than  this)  that  the  observance  consisted  in  eume  kind  of  rost, 
with  or  without  sacrifice.*     (3.)  At  the  time  of  the  Exodus,  and  hnfort 

•  The  Dumler  gevea  wua  lliroug'hoiit,  in  ilia  sj-TuboliBii)  both  of  lamel  and  many  other 
Bscieiit  iiati-Lim,  the  rBrruwritutive  of  the  tLniuit  belu'fi-en  Gud  tind  man,  llio  lijuriuonj  ol 
ihe  Crtotor  aad  the  creature,  and  lie  Sabballi  b  Lul  one  yf  a  whale  smoa  of  eepicBary 


* 


* 


llie  detiverj*  of  tlie  law,  the  name  appeals  for  the  first  time,  liut  tlio 
iiiwle  Id  which  it  is  brought  in  suggests  tliat  the  hehdomadal  division 
III'  time  Was  alrently  kudwii,  and  tlmt  the  seventh  day  was  already  in 
some  sort  oliscrvtil,  though  not.  with  the  strictness  which  vras  tliyn 
enjoined  (ExcvL  xvi.  4),  At  first  no  reason  is  given.  The  command 
U  simply  positive.  It  is  illustrated  and  enforced  "liy  tlie  cessation  of 
tJie  manua.  It  vras  binditi^  as  a  positive  Ijiw  ujiou  tlie  Israelites 
then,  but  there  is  so  far  nothin;^  to  sliow  that  it  had  been  Ijiiiding  upon 
thi'iii  jirevionsly,  still  less  to  show  that  i6  whs  binding  upon  luankind 
itt  IftT^e, 

3,  Tlie  Sabbatti  of  the  Law. 

The  pTocLiuiation  of  the  law  from  Sinai  ]jlaced  it  on  a  new  footing. 
It  took  its  place,  not  amon^^  ritual  and  ceremonial  laws,  but  side  hy 
(iide  with  others  wliich  all  men  recngnise  as  essentially  moral,  and 
ttid'ef'Te  universal.  It  may  legitimately  l>e  iiiferred  from  this  that  it 
WftS  a3  uecessftiy  for  them  as  the  moral  laws  themselves.  But  it  does 
hd  fullow  that  it  Was  as  universally  binding  as  the  laws  wliich  the 
conscience  of  all  mtin  rucognises.  The  distLuctioa  between  moral,  and 
pcsitive  OT  cei'emonial  law  is  that  of  a  later  age  and  higher  ethicid 
rnlture.  Tlie  Israelitiis  conld  not  and  <lid  not  draw  it  at  the  time 
i)f  the  Exodus.  For  them  all  duties  were  s-o  far  alike^  all  resting  on 
distinct  conunands,  and  sanctioned  by  distinct  penalties.  We  I'-annot 
go  further  than  the  probability,  from  its  position,  that  it  would  he 
setn  one  day  either  to  be  altogether  moral,  or  to  have  in  it.  a  moral 
dement.  The  reasons  assigned  for  the  Sabbath  are  various.  (1.)  It 
conunem orates  the  I')i\ine  rest,  sUfl  thut  re^t  is  h«ld  furtli  as  an 
Bwlietype  or  patteru  wliich  jnen  ought  tfi  rijproiluee,  the  implied  prin- 
'iple  being  that  human  life  should  be  in  conformity  with  the  life  and 
teing  of  t'lod  (Exod.  xx.  II).  (2.)  It  apijeals  to  their  experience  of 
suffering  and  theh'  sense  f>f  sympathy.  They  have  kno^ni  the  bitter- 
niHs  of  ceaseless  toil  when  they  were  slaves  in  a  strange  land,  and  are 
lliCTpiiire  not  oidy  to  rest  theniselve.'!,  but  to  concede  rest  Ui  their 
slsTes.aml  the  strangers  that  dwelt  with  them  (Exod,  xxiii.  12  ;  Deut. 
V.  15).  (3.)  ft  ia  a  sign  of  God's  covenant  with  them  (Ezuk.  \x.  12), 
u  eirciimcisiiiu  was  of  His  covenant  with  Abmham,  a  token  of  their 
lieiiig  a  ppiiuliar  and  separate  people.  Of  these  i-esiftons  it  is  clear 
tliat  the  first  is  the  only  one  wliirh  had  any  character  of  nniversality. 
The    last    aetiially   excludes    it      The    only   pennauent    obligation 

lomlunnlioni  with  ihia  significaucp.  (Scq  JJShr'i  "  SymlititiJii"  >■  187,  Bud  ii.  £77-} 
Fisid  righlly  rejecU,  wilt  goiiit^  scorn,  the  theory  of  Daur  and  Von  Bohlen,  ttftt  the 
Jpriih  Salibuth  ruse  out  of  the  worsliip  of  the  plauct  Sutiini,  to  nhocu  llic  dilj  WCU  Aiiii- 
itW  ("  Jltt-nhuftiWi"  p.  106} ;  but  stiuU  a  tLw)!^'  of  his  own,  that  the  primorj'  idea  of 
ilta  iay  wiu  thut  of  a  tarr^fiei,  u  Ten  unci  atinii  of  lh(>  pmClla  of  kbuur. 


i 


Ijo 


The  Contemporary  Rcvino. 


mvolved  in  the  seenntl  is  that  of  extending;,  tr)  the  ponreat  nnd  most 
alien,  some  share  uf  whatever  bleasiugs  we  enjoy  ourselres.  The 
principle  of  the  first  is  sepanihle,  mni  has,  hy  a  later  unicle  of  0«il, 
Iwei]  actnally  separatoii.  from  the  letter.  "{.lod  rests;  therefore  man 
should  Test."  I3ut  as  thcni  is  a  Divine  lictivity  wliiuh  dciea  not  break 
in  npan  the  rest  of  the  eternal  Sabbath  (John  v.  17),  en  there  may  Ihj 
a  human  !u;tivit^%  human  work,  cumpatilile  with  the  priociple  uf  'a 
weekly  Salihath,  and  the  question  is  ouce  more  removed  iroin  the  mere 
casiiiatiy  wliidi  iletin&s  "work"  aa  a  wonl  oecurmig  in  a  3tittute,  to 
the  wider  issue  of  wliiit  ia  so  corujiatible. 

+.  TLe  Subbath  of  the  PropheU. 

Tlie  liistoi-y  of  the  period  lietweeii  the  Exodus  and  the  mooarcliy 
presents,  ft3  mifjht  be  expected,  little  trace  of  sabbatical  obsenanci;. 
No  provision  hud  been  made  l>y  tlie  law  for  connecting  it  with  feli- 
gioua  acts  \  and  thongh  it  ii  probable  enough  that  it  was  TCi^ftgnised 
OS  a  day  of  rest,  the  frequent  aubju|>ation  of  Israel,  their  as  frequent 
apostasy,  their  adnption  of  the  cu5tom.s  of  their  neighbours,  must  have 
been  incompatible  with  any  ri^roroua  obeitience,  even  in  that  aspect 
of  the  law.  With  tlie  prophtts  from  8amnL'l  onwards  a  new  aod 
better  onler  of  things  cumnicnced.  They,  in  theii'  schools,  coUeges, 
nionasteriM  (the  latter  word,  perhaps,  conveys  a  better  notion  of  their 
life  than  any  other),  saw  that  the  Sabbath  rest  never  could  be  all  that 
it  nuj^ld  to  be  unless  it  were  mure  than  rest.  They  seized  on  tliis 
and  ou  tlie  iiew-nioon  festival  aa  instninients  for  the  religious  educa- 
tion of  the  jroojjle.  They  journeyed  through  the  countrv,  stoppin«^ 
at  fixed  resting-places,  and  gathered  men  and  women  round  them 
(2  Kings  iv.  23).  In  this  we  may  find  the  firs.t  starting-point  of 
what  was  ufterwai-ds  developed  into  tlie  system  of  the  sj*napfj<,tt&^, 
and  the  remote  souree  therefore  of  the  woiyliip  of  Christian  churche*. 
which  was  based  upon  that  system.  They  bronglit  new  powers  of 
song,  and  new  skill  in  ninaie.;,  sis  bel[i3  to  its  ^d1^^?^^'auce.  Special 
psalms  were  written  for  use  on  both  the  days  (Fsa.  Ixxxt. ;  xcii.)-  fl- 
was  welcomed  liy  the  poor,  and  by  many,  at  least,  of  the  rieh.  It 
bL*CQme  "a  deli^^ht,  holy  to  the  Ijird,  honourable."  As  such  the  pi-o- 
phcts  btjcauie  ita  zealous  guardians  and  prot«etora.  It  was  port  of 
their  work,  as  a.'^seitora  of  the  lighta  of  the  poor,  to  vindicatG  their 
claim  to  it  aj^ain.st  the  luxury  and  tyranny  of  tlie  rieli.  Thejjreatest 
of  the  prophets,  the  most  earnest  in  all  ilenancintions  of  mere 
ritnalism,  m  pnx:lfliming  that  "even  new  moaus  and  ^ubbatlis" 
(laa.  i.  13)  may  become  an  abomination,  laaiah,  Jeremiah,  Ezekiel,  felt 
that  they  could  nut  .'spare  the  helji  which  the  Sabbath  gave  them  (laa. 
Ivi  2—6 ;  Iviii.  l;^,  14;  Jer.  xvii.  19—27;  Ezek.  xjl  12, 13).  It  was 
for  the  poor  and  needy,  the  stronger  and  the  slave,  in  relatiou  to  their 


Sutiday,  1 5 1 

time,  what  the  right  of  gleaning  was  in  relation  to  the  land.  It  bore 
witness  that  the  wealthier  and  dominant  class  was  to  leave  them  some- 
thing that  they  might  call  their  own.  The  Sabbath  became  an  "abomi- 
nation," because  those  wlio  affected  to  keep  it  spoiled  the  poor  and 
wronged  the  fatherless  and  the  widow.  The  tendency  of  the  later 
yeara  of  the  monarchy  was  to  substitute  fasts  for  Sabbaths,  days  of 
penance  for  days  of  rejoicing,  and  Isaiah  bore  his  witness  against  this, 
partly  because  men  fasted  "  for  strife  and  debate,"  partly  because  while 
they,  the  ostentatiously  devout,  were  "bowing  their  head  as  a  bul- 
rash,"  they  "exacted  all  their  labours,"  and  called  this  "an  acceptable 
(lay  to  the  Lord"  (Isa.  Iviii.  1 — 7, 13,  14).  What  was  needed  was  to 
restore  the  regularity  and  joy  of  the  Sabbath  to  its  old  prominence, 
instead  of  introducing  new,  uncommanded  fast-days,  which  were  a 
burden  and  an  hypocrisy.  Those,  it  may  be  noticed,  whom  Jeremiah 
charges  with  the  guilt  of  Sabbatli-breaking  are  the  noble  and  the  rich 
{Jer.  iviL  12).  Among  those  who  were  most  zealous  for  its  honour 
were  the  eunuchs  and  the  sons  of  the  stranger,  the  foreign  proselytes 
of  the  king's  court  (Isa.  Ivi.  3 — 5). 

5.  The  Sabbath  of  the  Scribes. 

After  the  return  from  the  captivity  the  old  conflict  was  resumed. 
On  the  one  side  there  was  the  trading,  wealthy  class,  with  ite  old 
impatience  of  anything  that  checked  tlie  perpetual  accumulation 
of  their  riches.  On  the  other,  as  in  the  history  of  Neheniiah,  the 
zeal  of  the  truest  reformers  and  best  friends  of  the  people  leil 
them  to  maintain  the  holiness  of  the  Sabbath  against  the  "nobles 
of  Judah,"  who  were  violating  it  (Neb.  xiii.  15 — 12).  This  was 
done  partly,  we  c«umot  doubt,  from  the  same  motives  which  led 
Kehemiah  to  protest  against  tlie  usury  and  exaction  of  the  same  class 
(v.  1 — 13);  pMtly,  also,  from  the  feeling  that  the  Sabbath  was  a 
sign  of  the  covenant  (Ezek.  xx.  12,  20),  needed  to  keep  up  the  dis- 
tinctness of  the  Jews  as  a  separate  people.  But  the  evil  which  after- 
wards reached  so  terrible  a  height  was  already  beginning  to  show  itself, 
Hough  not  bearing  directly  upon  the  Sabbath,  the  words  of  Zechariah 
and  Malachi  bear  their  testimony  gainst  the  tendency  to  substitute 
£wt8,  festivals,  days  of  penance,  for  days  of  refreshing.  Tlie  former 
looks  forward,  with  a  delight  in  the  spontaneous  joy  of  youth  which 
religious  teachers  have  so  often  lacked,  to  tlie  time  when  "  boys  and 
girls  ahoiUd  be  playing  in  the  streets  of  Jenisalem,"  and  the  fast^days 
should  become  " cheerful  feasts"  (Zech.  ix.  4).  The  latter  complains 
that  the  priests  of  his  time  were  rendering  their  worship  offensive,  botli 
tomanandGod,  by  losing  the  element  of  joy,  and  "covering  the  altar  of 
the  Lord  with  tears,  with  weeping,  and  with  crying  out"  (Mai.  ii.  13), 
These  protests  were,  however,  in  vaiu.     The  age"  of  proi)hets  passed 


152  Tlte  Contemporary  Review. 

away,  and  the  age  of  scribes  succeeded,  and  with  it  came  the  molti- 
plied  comments,  the  subtle  casuistry,  the  traditions  of  the  elders,  which 
have  made  the  name  of  scribe  a  proverb  and  a  reproach.  This  was, 
perhaps,  due  in  part  to  the  political  position  of  the  people.  Eeduced 
to  the  position  of  a  Persian  province,  governed  by  a  Persian  satrap, 
with  no  country  they  could  call  their  o\vn  to  fight  for  and  defend,  their 
intellect  turned  in  upon  itself  with  a  diseased  activity,  and  became 
fruitful  in  evil.  It  was  natural  at  such  a  time  that  they  should  lay 
stress  on  what  gave  them  a  distinctive  badge  of  nationality,  and  the 
Sabbath  served  this  end  so  well  that  it  rose  into  greater  and  greater 
prominence.  "WTien  the  people  were  called,  imder  the  Maccabees,  tO' 
their  contest  with  the  idolatry  of  Syria,  they  began  with  a  strictness 
which  had  been  unknown  during  their  whole  previous  histoiy,  from 
their  departure  from  Egypt  to  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  and 
refused  to  defend  themselves  against  their  enemies  on  the  sabbath  day 
(1  Mace.  ii.  38).  The  experience  of  a  single  campaign  was  of  course 
enough  to  break  down  a  superstition  which  would  have  left  them 
naked  to  their  enemies,  to  be  massacred  without  resistance  (1  Mace. 
ii.  40,  41),  and  the  casuists  noted  this  as  an  exception.  They  could 
hardly  refuse  to  extend  it  to  other  cases  where  life  was  endangered, 
and  so  far  they  recognised  the  principle  (to  put  it  in  their  own  words) 
that  "  the  Sabbath  was  delivered  into  the  hand  of  man,  and  not  man 
into  the  hand  of  the  Sabbath."  They  were  compelled,  by  a  like 
necessity,  to  look  on  the  work  of  the  priests  and  Levites  and  Nethinim 
in  the  temple  as  another  exception,  for  "  the  temple  knew  no  Sab- 
bath."* But  with  these  reser\'ed  cases,  which,  of  course,  did  not  touch 
the  great  mass  of  the  labouring  poor,  they  went  on,  as  they  thought, 
"  setting  a  fence  round  the  law,"  hedging  it  up,  in  reality,  with  thorns 
and  briars,  setting  snares  and  nets  for  men's  consciences.  They  drew 
out  their  multitudinous  lists  of  prohibited  employments,  which,  b^in- 
ning  witli  jtloughing,  reaping,  baking,  descended  to  tying  or  untying  a 
knot,  writing  or  erasing  two  letters  of  the  alphabet,  even  holding  the 
ink  while  a  publican  made  out  liis  account,  tossing  nuts  and  almonds 
in  play,  or  climbing  up  a  tree.*f  But  as  is  usual  with  casuists  of  this 
class,  while  they  laid  heavy  burdens,  and  grievous  to  be  borne,  on 
other  men's  shoidders,  they  left  their  own  free.  They  put  on  whit© 
garments  and  took  warm  baths  on  Priday,  made  the  Sabbath  a  day  of 
feasting,  and  invited  their  friends  and  neighbours  to  crowded  dinners, 
which  became  proverbial  for  tlieir  luxury.  J     Tlieir  meals  could  be 

"  Comp.  Schoettgen,  "Hor.  Hebr.,"  and  Kork,  "  Habbinische  Parallclen,"  on  Mfttt, 
xii.  1—13.  t  Ibid. 

X  It  ie  remarkable,  as  throwing  ligbt  either  on  the  religious  customs  of  the  Israelites  in  the 
time  of  Amos,  or  on  those  of  the  later  Jews,  that  the  Septuagint  translation  of  that  prophet 
aeesin  the  picture  of  selfiah  sloth  and  luxury,  in  vi.  3 — 6,  the  keeping  of  a  "false  Sabbath." 


Sunday.  1 53 

cooked,  their  charcoal  fires  lighted  (if  the  time  of  the  year  required 
them),  before  the  Sabbath  began.  All  their  censure,  their  excommuni- 
cation, their  penalties,  fell  on  the  poor  man  who  on  that  day  kneaded 
his  cake  of  meal,  or  lit  his  scanty  fire,  or  plucked  fruit  or  ears  of  com 
to  satisfy  his  hunger.  Even  before  the  teaching  of  our  Lord  there  had 
lieen  a  protest  against  this  tyranny.  While  the  school  of  Shammai,  not 
content  with  their  thirty-nine  specified  prohibitions,  and  all  the  cases 
that  might  come  under  them,  went  on  to  add  (1)  every  act  which, 
beginning  before  the  Sabbath,  might  continue  in  operation  during  it; 
and  (2)  such  acts  as  distributing  alms  in  the  synagogue,  instructing 
children,  or  visiting  the  sick  and  afflicted;  that  of  HUlel  maintained 
that  these  were  true  sabbatic  acts ;  that  it  was  lawful  to  heal  the  sick, 
even  though  life  was  not  in  danger,  and  all  that  the  patient  had  to 
endure  through  delay  would  have  been  a  prolongation  of  his  pain, 

6.  The  Sabbatli  of  Clirist. 

Such  was  the  state  of  feeling,  such  the  received  practices  of  the 
Jews,  when  our  Lord  began  His  ministry.    We  have,  as  constituting 
the  most  essential  element  of  the  whole  question,  to  note  both  His 
action  and  His  teaching  respecting  them.     (1.)  It  appears  plain  that 
He  accepted  the  religious  order  of  the  day ;  attended  the  synagogue 
services;  read,  when  called  upon,  the  appointed  lessons;  taught  the 
people  as  a  Rabbi     But  it  is  not  less  clear  that  He  accepted  also 
its  social  aspect.      He   entered  into  the  house  of  one  of  the  chief 
Pharisees  (probably  one  of  the   HiUel  school,  who  looked  on  our 
Lord's  teaching  with  a  certain  measure  of  approval)  to  eat  bread 
on  the  Sabbath  day  (Luke  xiv.   1),  though  the  banquet-room  was 
crowded  with  guests  struggling  for  precedence.     He  led  his  disciples 
through  cornfields,  and  did  not  forbid  their  pluijking  the  ears  of  corn, 
and  rubbing  them  in  their  hands  (Matt.  xii.  1 ;  Mark  ii.  23 ;  Luke  vi. 
1),  though  the  casiustry  of  the  Scribes  would  have  forbidden  the  latter 
acta  as  tantamoimt  to  reaping  and  threshing ;  and  the  former  could 
hardly  faU  to  involve  a  longer  walk  than  the  Sabbath-day's  journey, 
which  the  Scribes  defined  as  the  limit  of  permissible  exercise.     By 
repeated  acts  of  supernatural  power  He  affirmed  the  truth  for  which 
the  school  of  Hillel  concluded — that  it  was  lawful  to  do  good  on  the 
Sabbath  day.     The  hypocrisy  of  the  school  of  Shammai  was  the  one 
thing  that  stirred  His  righteous  anger.     He  looked  round  with  indig- 
nant sorrow,  being  grieved  at  the  hardness   of  their  hearts  (Mark 
iii  8).    Everywhere, — in  the  sjTiagogues,  confronting  local  prejudices ; 
in  the  temple  at  Jerusalem,  facijig  the  power  of  the  Sanhedrim, — He 
eiposed  Himself  to  the  chaige  of  being  a  Sabbath-breaker  (John  v. 
10, 16 ;  vil  23).     (2.)  But  His  teaching  must  have  been  even  more 


I 


154 


The  Contemporary  Reznew. 


% 


startling  tlian  His  acts.     Ha  was  iiitt  content  tu  rest  on  any  tmJitic 
of  the  acliools,  even  though  it  might  make  in  His  favour,  Imt  wer 
back  tu  the  ginmiid  and  print'i|)lG  of  the  law, — "The  Sahljath  was" 
made  foi'  man,  find  nut  man  for  the  Sahbatli"  (Mark  ii.  27).     It  wius 
a  raeana,  aud  nut  an  end:  woilli  nothing  unless  it  conduced  to  the  eni], 
— mirn's  welfare,  man's  refrei^hment,  in  body,  mind^  and  spirit.    "  Tliere-j 
fore  the  Sou  of  man  is  Lord  also  of  the  Sabbath  "  (Mark  il  26).     He 
cause  Ho  was  the  Son  of  man,  the  representativu  and  brother  of 
men,  knowing  their  wants  a]:d  infirmities,  He  was  eupremii  over  the*' 
groBt   conimiuidnient   itself,   und   jiroolaijned    the  truth   that   man's 
welfare   was   of  liigher  and  more  ptirmimeTit  Importanca  than  aiijjfl 
positive  enactment.     The  case  of  the  Salibath  came  iindei'  the  wid^^ 
range  of  words  which  few  ScribuS  would  hnve  dreiunt  of  cunuecting 
with  it — "  I  will  have  mercy  and  not  sacrifice"  (Matt,  xii  7).     Tlie 
temple  of  man's  natiue,  with  which  H«  Imd  clothed  Hitoaelf,  had  a 
higher  sanctity  than  that  whicli  was  thu  glory  of  Jerusalem  (Matt. 
xii.  7)-    It  foUow^id,  us  Soon  as  men  learned  to  tliink  of  thoir  Itodies  a^ 
the  temples  of  X\\<i  living  God,  that  that  which  ministered  to  it  as  snchj 
was  as  little  a  YH'ofanatioii  of  the  Sahlmtli  aa  the  services  of  the  priest 
and  Levites  in  the  temple  (Matt.  xii.  fi).     By  laying  stress  ou  tl 
letter,  and  interpreting  it  rigorously  for  othera,  wliile  they  were  leniea^ 
to  themselvTs,  they  entangled  tliemsclves  in  endless  coutradlctior 
They  led  their  ox  and  ass  to  water  (Luke  xiii.  15).    lliey  puUiid  thtjir 
cattle  out  of  pits  (Matt  xii.  11).     They  cireumcised  a  man  oii  th 
Sabbath  clay  (John  vji  22).     They  !aid  stress  on  Sabbath-break  in, 
not  because  they  themselves  kept  the  Sabbath  ■with  a  literal  exactneg 
but  bGcau.9e  it  waj^   a  c:onveiiieiit  chaise  to  fling  aganistr  a  teachE 
whom  they  hated  (Luke  xiil  15).     ^o  the  character  of  the  commai: 
for  all  the  disciples  of  the  New  Teacher  was  altered  with  a  chaun;e 
which,  to  the  Scribes  and  doctors,  must  tiave  seemed  little  shoit  of^ 
revolutionnry.     The  true  stamp  of  the  Sabbath  was  to  be  rest,  refresiiJj 
ment,  joy.     'NMiatever  tended  to  these  emis,  without  involvmg  tl 
enforced  labour  of  others,  or  givhig  to  the  joy  the  stamp  of  sensuoi 
evil,  was   permissible   and   right.     (3.)  Hai-dly  less  significant  than 
the  positive  was   the  negative   side  of  His   teaching.     There  is  uo 
mention  of  the  Sabbath  in  either  St.  Mattliuw's  or  St.  Luke's  i-epor^_ 
of  the  Sermon  on   the   Mount.     He  never   mentions   it.  as  mai^H 
a  Scribe  woitld  have  done,  wlien  He  is  asked  wliich  were  the  »^at 
commandments   of  the    Ijiw   (Mark  xii.  29,   3(J).      In   Hia   answer,- 
to  tlie  ipiestion  of  the  younjj;  nder,  whom  He  had  told  to  keep  tlU 
connnandinenb?,  and  who  asked  Him  which,  He  mentions  all  duties 
towarils  man,  but  not  this  of  keeping  the  Sablmth  holy  (JIark  s.  1!)}.^ 
"Without  formally  repeating,  whUe  in  act  recognising,  the  moral  ela^| 
ment,  and,  as  it  were^  idea  of  the  law,  He  t.acitly  allowa  the  latter  to 


\  a^ 

thfl 


•1 


A 


Sunday.  155 

slip  into  the  background  of  duties.  It  ah-eady  takes  its  place  in  Hia 
teaching  among  the  things  that  "  are  decaying,  and  waxing  old,  and 
are  ready  to  vanish  away." 

7.  The  Sabbath  of  the  Apostles. 

The  disciples  followed  naturally  in  the  steps  of  their  Master. 
They  were  Jews,  and  the  framework  of  Judaism  still  stood,  and  they 
observed  the  seventh  day  as  they  did  the  temple  hours  of  prayer, 
and  the  two  weekly  fasts,  and  the  cycle  of  annual  festivals.  But 
they  observed  it,  we  must  believe,  as  their  Master  had  taught  them 
to  do,  freely,  and  without  bondage ;  distributing  to  the  poor,  visit- 
ing the  sick,  holding  their  common  meals,  their  Agapa;,  or  feasts 
of  charity,  upon  it.  The  special  command  which  they  had  received 
from  their  Master  connected  itself  naturally  enough  with  a  standing 
custom  of  the  s3T3agogues  of  Palestine.  There,  as  the  Sabbath  sun 
was  setting,  at  the  commencement  therefore,  of  the  first  day,  it  was 
customary,  both  in  the  synagogues  and  pri\'ate  houses,  for  bread 
and  wine  to  be  passed  round,  as  a  farewell  to  the  Sabbath,  the 
grace-cup  of  the  departing  king  ;  and  over  both  was  uttered  a 
ipecial  fonnida  of  benediction.*  When  the  members  of  the  new 
society  were  compelled,  as  persecution  must  soon  have  compelled  them, 
to  withdraw  from  Hebrew  and  Hellenistic  synagogues,  and  to  have 
meetings  of  their  own,  they  carried  with  them  this  custom,  and  met 
on  the  first  day  of  the  week,  the  evening  of  the  Sabbath,  for  what  was 
at  once  their  chief  meal  of  the  day,  and  the  "  Supper  of  the  Lord." 
Round  it  were  gathered  acts  of  mercy,  hymns  and  prayers,  teaching 
and  exhortation.  Such  was  the  life  of  the  Chui-cli  of  the  circumcision; 
— Jewish,  and  not  yet  authorized  to  fling  aside  any  Jewish  custom. 
But  from  first  to  last  there  is  not  the  slightest  trace  of  any  extension 
of  the  law  of  the  Sabbatli  to  the  Gentile  converts.  It  would  obviously 
have  been  a  greater  stumbling-block  than  circumcision  itself — expos- 
ing every  Christian  slave  or  artisan  to  scourging  or  fines — every  Chris- 
tian soldier  to  imprisonment  or  death.  Had  it  been  imposed,  it 
would,  from  the  very  first,  have  been  the  great  point  of  accusation  in 
the  hands  of  all  opponents  of  the  Gospel.  An  attempt  was  made  to 
ttroHt  circumcision  on  the  Gentiles,  and  to  compel  them  to  keep  the 
law  of  Moses,  including,  of  course,  the  Sabbatli  (Acts  xv.  5),  and  it  was 
firmly  and  successfully  resisted.  In  the  great  charter  of  the  heathen 
Church,  other  conditions,  most  of  them  ceremonial,  named  with  a  view, 
fiot  to  ethical  principles,  but  to  the  avoidance  of  offence,  were  specified ; 
but  this  found  no  place  in  it  (Acts  xv.  20).  It  is  quite  inconceivable  that 
it  should  have  been  omitted  at  tliat  critical  emergency,  if  the  apostles 
had  held  that  what  was  a  sign  of  God's  covenant  with  Israel  was  to 
•  See  Joat,  "  Gewbichte  des  J  u  dent  bums,"  i.,  p.  IBO. 


156 


The  CoiUemporary  Review. 


l>e  extended,  in  its  rigrnir,  to  nifrnkiad — that  the  Ffmrtli  C'oinmandment, 
as  aucli,  was  Ijindiug  upon  the  whole  Chiirch.     Soon  we  find  tlic  con- 
miction  that  it  was  no  lon<ier  binding  on  the  Jew.     SL  Paul,  as  heiug- 
a  Jew  to  the  Jews,  would  douhtless  keep  it  (keep,  i'.  t.,  tlie  seventh 
dajr's  reHt),  when  he  was  staying  in  the  house  of  a  sou  of  Abraham; 
but  as  being  a  Greek  to  the  flreeka,  ■without,  law  to  tliose  that  were 
witlimiit  hiw  (1  Cor.  ix.  21),  we  can  luirdly  tliink  of  him,  if  atiyiufj 
with  a  (!eiitile  family,  as  obsenang  a  rigorous  Sabliath,  either  on  the 
seventh  or  first,  ilay,  wliiJst  they  were  workings  nr  going  on  with  the 
Tisual  order  of  their  lives.     ^Mnen  he  heard  that  the  Oalatian  ton'\'erta 
were  "observing  days"  in  consequence  of  their  aubjugatirju  to  Urn  ■ 
Judaiziug  tendiers  (Gal.  iv.  10),  he  is  afraid  that  they  have  fallen 
from  grace,     ^\^len  he  WTitea  to  the  Colossiaus,  it  is  to  warn  them 
to  allow  no  man  to  ait  in  judgment,  and  pass  .sentence  on  theu,  ■ 
"in  respect  tif  a  new  moon  or  Sabbath"  (Col.  ii.  IG).     More  signifi- 
cant still  is  the   absence  of  miy   single   exhortation   bearing  upon 
tills  point  in  the  whole  series  of  liia  epistles.     Collections  for  the 
poor  are  to  be  made  on  the  first  day  of  the  week  (1  Cor.  x\i.  2) ; 
but  there   I*  no  precept  to  obseiTe  either  tliat  or  the  seventh  with 
a  Sabbath  rigour.     Among  tlie  manifold  In-eguIaTities  of  the  churchcsM 
of  Corinth  sud  Thessalonica,  that  of  iiegletting  Sabbaths   finds   no" 
place,   and  yet   it   is   Lndefinitely  probuble   that   most  of  the  coo- 
verts  were,  from,  their  social  position,  unable  even  had  they  Ijeen 
willing  to  keep  it,  unwilling  even  if  they  had  Ih^cu  able.    At  Romej 
w-here  there  were    many  cnnvei'ts  of  a  wealthiyr  class,  and  where 
.Tewish  influence  was  strong,  there  were  some  who  reganled  it,  ox^k 
Bomc!  other  dny,  with  a  special  reverence  (Eom.  xiv.  0),  others  who" 
disregarded  it,  without,  as  it  wo;ild  seem,  substituting  any  other  in  _ 
its  place.     IIow  does  the  Ajiogtle  deal  with  them  ?    Doea  he  as; 
the  binding  fotfe  of  the  ordinance — imprtiss  the  commandment  oq 
them?    No;  far  otherwiae.     He  deals  witli  it  as  lie  does  with  th* 
question  of  clean  and  unclean  meats,  with  that  of  total  abstinence  fronii| 
wine  or  flesh.     The  acrnpulous  arc  not  to  condwmi  the  strong ;  th. 
Btwing  are  not  to  des]iise  the  weak.     His  own  ccnnictiuns  are  clearl 
^vith  the  stronger,  but  his  sympathy  and  ti'ndurucsa  go  out  towanU 
those  who  are   more   sesisitive  than  himself.     The  •Sabbath-keeping' 
which  "reinatns  for  the  people  of  (3od"  (Heb.  iv.  y)  is  not  the  recur 
R'licc  of  a  weekly  festival,  but  the  resting  from  our  own  vain  an 
uiKiuiet  worksj  and  passing  into  the  tranquillity  of  the  llivme  lilt 
"  My  Father  worketh  hithertoj  and  I  also  work/'  wag  to  find  it«  aui 
logue  in  the  life  of  the  disciples.* 


r- 

1 


■  My  prf-siMit  limits  do  not  allow  mc  to  enter  into  any  history  oP  tliD  f  se)5esia  of  the 
faKsageii  I  hsYu  \vit^  referred  t<a.  Rturlcftts  Hill  knu^  tlint  there  is,  to  aay  ihe  ItBol,  &bi]ile 
iiutbority  for  evenr  inlerprclafion  given. 


Sunday.  1 5  7 

8.  The  Lord's  Day, 
The  hj^wtheses  that  the  apostles,  acting  with  a  Diviae  coniiiiis- 
sion,  either  transferred  the  obligation  of  the  Fourth  Coniniandmeut 
from  the  seventh  day  to  the  first,  or  solenmly  appointed  the  latter 
as  the  great  Christian  weekly  feast-day,*  and  assigned  it  a  special 
though  not  identical  honour,  have,  naturally  enough,  found  many 
advocates.  Of  any  such  decree,  however,  Scripture  makes  no  men- 
tion. There  is  no  trustworthy  evidence  of  its  existence  in  early 
ecclesiastical  wiiters,  and  we  have  no  warrant  for  imaginuig  a  ficti- 
tious cause,  and  that  one  which,  if  it  were  real,  would  be  of  such 
unspeakable  importance,  where  a  simple  and  natural  explanation 
lies  close  at  hand.  The  early  believers  met,  as  we  ha^e  seen,  on 
the  evening  of  Saturday,  for  the  Lord's  Supi)er.  To  a  Jew  (and 
Jews,  or  Gentiles  who  had  become  jjroselytes  to  Judaism,  and 
were  iamiliar  with  Jewish  modes  of  reckoning,  formed  the  nucleus 
of  nearly  every  church),  a  meeting  on  the  evcninrj  of  Sunday  would 
have  been  on  the  second  day  of  the  week,  not  the  first.  Gradually 
the  disorders  which  crept  in  at  Corinth  and  elsewhere  made  a 
change  necessary.  Jfen  were  to  take  their  meal  at  home,  so  as 
not  to  come  with  the  voracity  of  hunger.  So,  step  by  stej),  pass- 
ing, as  at  Troas,  through  a  midnight  service  (Acts  xx.  7),  the  Supper 
of  the  Lord  crept  on  from  what  we  should  call  the  evening  of  the 
seventh  day  to  the  early  morning  of  the  first,*}*  and  so  ceased  to  be 
a  supper  in  reality.  And  then  it  is  that  we  find  the  special  adjective 
ffhich  St.  Paul  seems  to  have  coined  to  describe  it  {KvpiaKoq,  1  Cor. 
iL  20)  transferred  to  the  day,  probably  by  St.  John  in  the  Apocalyj)se 
(L  10),  certainly  in  the  language  of  very  early  Cliristiau  writers.J 
By  a  singular  train  of  consequences;  that  which  had  started  as,  in 
part  at  least,  receiving  its  holiness  from  one  day,  now  imparted 
a  consecrated  character  to  another.  Tlienceforth  the  Loni's  day  was 
recognised  through  all  the  churches  of  the  East  and  West  as  a  day  for 
joy, — for  rest  also,  where  rest  was  possible, — for  works  of  kindness, 
and  Divine  service,  and,  above  all,  for  sharing  in  the  great  act  of  wor- 
ship which  gave  the  day  its  nanie.§  Here  tlie  Chureh,  with  a  wonder- 
fid  consent — far  more  impressive,  it  seems  to  me,  and  far  more 
authoritative,  than  any  formal  decree  of  the  apostles  coidd  have  been, 
found  what  met  hei  wants, — the  moral  element  of  the  Sabbath,  and 
its  power  to  edify  or  tranquillize,  without  its  rigour — the  joy  without 

•  The  flrat  of  theae  positions  is  that  commonly  maintained  by  teachers  who  rest  the 
observance  of  the  Lord's  day  on  the  Fourth  Commandment ;  the  second  is  that  advo- 
cated by  Dr.  Hessey. 
+  So  in  Pliny,  Ep.  96,  "  They  were  wont  to  meet  on  a  given  day  before  dawn." 
i  See  the  interesting  collection  of  passages  in  Suicer'a  "  Thesaurus." 
I  "DiemSoIi»h»titiieinduIgemu8"(TcrtulI.,  "Apol.,"c.  16);  "jejuniumnefasducimus" 
("DeCor.,"  c.  3);  "  difforentca  etiam  ncgotia  '  ("  Dc  Drat.,"  c.  13). 


i6o 


The  Contemporary  Rumij. 


tlie  Hotcs  ia  MiittLevv's  Bible,  ■wliieli  Cmnnicr  sanctioned, 
taineJ  that  tlit^re  iiiiglit  be  occuswtig  "  turning  men's  rest  into  occupa- 
tion and  liilKJur."'  Tj'iulal,  the  jiatriurcli  of  English  Ecformers,  tlie 
fijBt  in  tlie  line  of  Kngliali  translatoia  of  the  rsible  of  the  sixteenth 
centiu-y,  wiis  even  bolder,  and  aaseited  that  u  Cliriatiiin  Church  or 
Stnte  intj^lit  even  appoint,  one  day  in  live  or  ten,  and  that  with  just 
such  a  measure  of  uLsen-anct!  as  iniyht  be  deemed  extiedieut  f»ir  ihe 
ejiiritual  instruction  of  the  pwople.f  If  the  Enj^lish  Kel'onut?^,  in 
tbeir  panic  dread  of  Antiuouiianisui.  ivtre  led  tu  take  tliu  uupaiiilleled 
step  of  hoyinuinj,'  their  C'ummunion  Service  ^I'ith  tht:  iJtitidoj^uo,  and 
80  to  sanction  a]ipiuei]tly  a  dill'ereiit  doctrine,  they  yet,  on  the  other 
hand,  carefully  abstained  in  their  Catechism  from  layin;j;  any  stra^^s  un 
the  oljservaiiee  nf  tlie  Kalfbatli  as  such,  not  even  meutiuuiuy  it  in  the 
duty  of  man  tow^ards  Liod ;  proclaimed  that  Christian  nit?u  were 
Ixiuud  only  by  "the  Couiiiiandments  that  were  called  montl;"  and  did 
in.it  settle  where  the  bouudaiy  line  was  to  be  dioA^-n  when  moral  and 
positive  elements  were  iutemiiiiyltd  hi  the  same  law.!t  It  was  not  till 
the  Second  Hook  of  Homilies  ("Of  tlu^  time  and  phiee  uf  pmyer"), 
when  the  cryiuff  abusea  of  licence  and  prufti^fKcy  on  the  Luii.rs  day 
had  bronyht  ^caudal  on  the  Knylish  Cluii-ch,  that  any  distinct  con- 
nection between  it  and  the  SabbatU  law  was  abseiled,  ^^ 
One  is  ]ed  naturally  to  ask  how  it  was  that  thy  Int-ei-  Kefnrmei^H 
the  Pimtaus  in  Enylaud  and  the  Covenanters  in  Scothmd,  csiue  to 
maintain  a  priuciplv  diametrically  opposed  to  that  uf  iboae  wham 
they  professed  to  follow,  and  to  assert,  as  in  the  Westminster  Con- 
fession L)f  Faith,  and  the  Liii'ger  and  Shorter  Cateclrisms,^  that  the 
ubligation  of  the  Lord's  day  rests  on  the  Fomtb  Commandment. 
Tlie  answer,  I  think,  ia  not  far  to  3eek,  mid  it  is  found  in  tiie  shauie- 
Igss  licence  of  KnjrlLsh  society  under  Elizalioth,||  lunl  the  nieasurea 
taken  by  the  Euylisb  Couil.  utidei'  James  and  Charles,  by  the  advice 
of,  or  ■without  leraoiiatnmcre  fi-om,  the  liishops.  Whi-ii  the  flfteriioon 
of  Sundfiy  was  given  up  to  the  bear-baitings  of  a  hmtal  papubice. 
or  the  licentious  luasr^ues  and  yet  more  licentious  plays  of  a  higher 
liufc  not  lesa  profligate  class,  ami  tliis  under  the  direct  piitrouaLfe  of  thu 
ffovereign;ir  when  the  "  Book  of  Sports"  was  tyrimnically  thrust,  with- 

•  Cumm.  oTi  Jet.  svii.  f  Warka,  iii,,  p.  !>7  (Eil,  I'affcer  Soc.) 

X  Art,  ^ii,  It  is 'wiMlhy  of  nntice  Chat  ibe  language  of  H'F.irly  b11  the  Artides  and  Injubc- 
tiom  uBued  under  I^li^tabelh  iiractically  pU<:Es  Sundays  anil  holiduya  ou  tliL>  iiiinu  fouling. 

§  It  i«  ihim  tliis  idi-nddcalign,  iiiip&ivutly,  tLut  X'ok  ptniitico  baa  gri;n-u  -uji.  all  but 
uttt'rlv  unknown  thniiigh  tte  pri,'^iiili*  SCTPHtpen  f-pntnrisa  iif  Christ  en  dim,  of  ^p^lung  uf 
tie  I.ord'i  Jny,  not  only  iis  Tiaring  a  BaT-ibnli*!  charm.ter,  Ijul  ns  lieing  itiolf  "  the  Subbalfa." 
It  IB  M  spolieti  ul',  lioH-evLT,  in  Ih*  Ilouiil}'  aircady  n-'rerred  to. 

II  "SciEoiid  bonk  cjf  It<>niiilit.'A,"  aa  above. 

f  Sub  for  liCTi'-bailinp,  llowii.i'a  '•  Sketoliw  nf  ibe  Rrfornmtion,"  p.  135;  luiA  tot- 
theutrc^,  Prynne's  '*  Uktriu-MiLBtis,"  pp.  363,  437,  441,  470.  During  gront  part  of  th* 
Tetgn  of  Eluabctt,  il;  wn;  the  ofie  day  on  -wkich  mnay  Uieatrea  vei?  Hceaacd  Xq  bs  opoacd. 


J 


Sunday.  1 6 1 

out  even  a  conscience  clause,  upon  clergy  and  laity,  many  of  whom 
looked  upon  all  recreation  as  unlawful :  it  was  no  wonder  that  the 
Puritan  party  should  seize  on  what  seemed  to  them  the  most  effective 
weapon,  and  con\'ince  themselves  that  they  were  fighting  not  only  for 
truth,  and  purity,  and  order,  as  indeed  tliey  were,  but  f(n'  a  distinct, 
unchangeable, Divine  law*    I  cannot  but  honour  them  for  the  protest 
they  thus  bore  against  evils  which  the  Laudian  divines  never  did 
e!ieck,f  and  apparently  never  tried  to  check,  as  I  honour  them  for 
their  protest  against  the  dramatic  literature  of  the  time,  foul  as  it  was 
with  the  foulness  of  Ariatophanea,  and  vile  with  the  vileness  of  a 
brothel    But  for  the  Puritan  element  in  England,  the  whole  life  of 
the  country  woidd  have  been  tainted  irrecoverably.     It  was  the  sup- 
pression of  a  lite  element  in  France,  first  by  the  Massacre  of  St. 
Bartholomew,  and  then  by  the  Revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  that 
brought  about  the  comiptiou  which  ended  in  the  fire-baptism  of  the 
Revolution — a  baptism,  one  is  compelled  to  add,  as  yet  without  a 
regeneration.     I  am  far  from  thinkiug  that  even  the  Jewish  form 
which  the  Sabbath  observance  of  the  Lord's  day  assumed  in  Scotland 
ba3  been  without  a  great  preponderance  of  good ;  and,  in  spite  of  its 
theoretical  defectiveness,  it  was  perhaps  the  condition  without  wliich 
the  good  could  not  have  l)een  obtained.     It  has  done  in  the  education 
of  Scotchmen  what  it  did  in  the  education  of  Israelites — has  preserved 
theh  distinctness,  their  nationality,  their  sense  of  reverence  for  home 
life  and  home  worsliip.     Any  attempt  to  revolutionize  its  observance 
in  Scotland  would  be  a  fatal  breach  of  the  liistorical  contumity  of  the 
national  life,  and  a  wilful  abandonment  of  what  has  proved  itself  a 
blessing.     But  it  can  scarcely  be  denied  tliat  it  has  also  reproiluced, 
in  part  at  least,  the  evils  of  Judaism ;  that  it  has  been  allowed  to 
overshadow  the  weightier  matters  of  the  law — has  been  turned  too 
crften  into  an  occasion  for  harsh  judgments  of  other  men  and  other 


(Gosson,  "  School  of  Abuse,"  1579).  It  was  tht  day  on  uhich  the  prostitutes  of  London 
Sucked  to  them  in  largeet  numbers,  as  being  surest  of  custom.  An  attempt  waa  made  under 
Bizabeth  (a.s.  IfiSO)  to  check  "heathenish  plays"  in  the  city;  but  they  took  refuge  on'thc 
Bnikside  of  the  river  in  Southvark.  Even  the  itinerant  prcatheia  sent  out  by  Archbishop 
I'aricer  were  conspicuous  for  going,  after  their  sermons  were  over,  "  to  tabling,  carding, 
■hooting,  and  bowling"  (Haweis'a  "  Sketches,"  p.  101). 

•  The  new  Judaic  theory,  however,  was  not  allowed  to  pass  without  a  protest, — -oa  the 
one  haad,  from  Heylyn,  wha  had  been  Laud's  chaplain,  in  his  "  History  of  the  Sabbath^" 
and  on  the  other,  from  one  who  had  passed  beyond  Laudiauism  and  Puritanism  into  a 
higher  region.  The  casa  against  the  view  that  the  Jewish  law  of  the  Sabbath  is  still 
bmiUBif  can  hardly  be  found  better  stated  than  by  John  Milton  {"  Christian  Doctrine," 
e.  TiL).  B««Deak>  strongly,  however,  against  the  "licenKous  remiesnesB"  of  Charles  L  s 
"Sunday  theatre"  [" fUcoDucloot,"  c.  2). 

t  Bramhall's  somewhat  supercilious  approval  of  village  dances  for  "  that  undir  sort  of 
people"  (/.e.}  could  hardly  have  been  compatible  with  any  strong  protest  against  t)ic  {lancing 
and  gaoling  of  the  upper  aoit  of  people  in  kings'  palace; . 
VOL.  L  M 


1 62  The  Contemporary  Review. 

nations — has  been  made  more  oppressive  to  tlie  poor  than  to  the  rich 
— lias  been  separated  from  the  idea  of  refreshment  and  rejoicing — ^has 
been  made  a  weariness  and  a  burden  by  the  endeavour  to  enforce 
an  impracticable  ideal. 

10.  The  Simda}-  League. 

A  few  words  yet  remain  to  be  said  on  what  is  at  present  the 
special  English  question  connected  with  this  controversy.  For 
some  years  past  there  has  been,  it  is  well  known,  an  association 
assxuning  the  title  of  the  National  Sunday  League.  How  far  that 
title  is  justified  by  the  magnitude  of  its  operations  (the  total  number 
of  subscribers  to  the  funds  for  1865  was  139,  and  the  total  amount 
subscribed  £188  16s.  6d.,  while  the  sale  of  its  pamphlets  had  pro- 
duced the  great  total  of  2s.  4d.),  and  how  far  the  meeting  lately  held 
at  St.  Martin's  Hall  may  be  taken  as  a  repudiation  of  its  claim  to 
represent  them,  on  the  part  of  a  large  section  of  the  London  operatives, 
are  questions  on  which  I  shall  not  now  enter.  I  confinp  myself  to 
what  it  has  already  done,  and  what  it  contemplates  in  the  future.  It 
aijns,  then,  generally,  at  enlarging  the  range  of  Sunday  relaxation. 
It  has  achieved  one  victory  in  the  establishment  of  Sunday  bands  in 
the  London  parks,  with  the  sanction  of  the  Chief  Commissioner  of 
"Woods  and  Forests.  It  is  now  struggling  hard  to  obtain  another 
by  pressing  Government  and  Parliament  to  authorize  the  opening  of 
public  museums,  picture  galleries,  and  libraries  on  Sunday  aftemoona 
The  memorial  which  it  presented  to  the  Queen  with  this  prayer,  in 
1860,  was  signed  by  not  less  than  943  persons  more  or  less  eminent 
in  art,  science,  and  Uterature,  including  Sir  John  Herschel,  Richard 
Owen,  Thomas  Hughes,  now  M.  V.  for  Lambeth,  Charles  Dickens, 
l*rofessor  Nicholl  of  Glasgow,  Sir  Charles  Lyell,  Professor  Jowet^ 
nearly  the  whole  body  of  Royal  Academicians,  and  many  well-known 
"men  of  letters."  I  have  no  wish  to  shirk  the  responsibility  of 
stating  distinctly  what  position  I  occupy  in  relation  to  this  move- 
ment. (1.)  I  look  on  the  opening  of  our  public  parks  and  gardens  as 
a  great  gain,  and  cannot  object  (if  the  employers  of  the  labour  required 
for  locomotion  make  arrangements  to  secure  partial  or  alternate  rest 
for  those  whom  they  employ)  to  the  omnibus,  or  steamboat,  or  rail- 
way traffic,  without  which  the  boon  would  be,  as  regards  the  majority 
of  the  London  poor,  a  mere  nullity,  I  cannot,  on  the  principle  which 
I  have  here  maintained,  look  on  such  acts  as  <Sa&&aiA-breaking,  viola- 
tions of  the  letter  of  a  commandment  which  I  regard  as,  in  the  let*«sr, 
no  longer  binding.  And  it  is,  I  believe,  an  evil  that  tbnso  rt'ho  thus 
employ  a  portion  of  their  Sunday  should  be  rebuked  and  condemned, 
as  they  often  are,  as  reckless  and  godless  Sabbath-breakers.  The  sure 
result  of  the  undisceming  zeal  which  multiplies  these  ficta  peccata  is 
that  they  lead  to  real  ones.     Being  told  that  what  they  do  is  incom- 


Sunday.  163 

patMe  with  any  claim  to  a  religious  chai-acter,  men  make  no  effort  to 
prove  the  compatibility.     The  evening  walk  becomes,  not  the  comple- 
ment of  worship,  but  the  substitute  for  it.     Men  and  women  go  on  to 
intemperance,  or  loose  talking,  or  worse  evil,  with  the  sense  that^ 
being  "  in  for  a  penny,"  they  may  as  well  be  "  in  for  a  pound." 
Something  of  this  may  be  traced  in  the  statement,  so  often  occurring, 
so  often  appealed  to,  in  the  confessions  of  criminals,  that  they  can 
trace  their  first  downward  step  in  the  path  of  guilt  to  the  neglect  of 
the  Sabbath.     Paiily,  it  may  be,  they  say  this,  because  they  find,  with 
the  pecidiar  acuteness  of  convicts,  that  it  is  wliat  the  prison  chaplain 
expects  them  to  say,  aud  welcomes  as  the  first  sign  of  their  amend- 
ment.   Partly  there  may  be  something  of  the  feeling  which  leads  the 
(inuitard  to  ascribe  his  momrug  headache  to  any  cause  rather  than  to 
the  wine  of  the  last  night's  debauch.     With  a  subtle  self-deceit,  the 
convict  turns  from  the  act  of  dishonesty  or  lust,  for  which  his  con- 
science does  accuse  him,  to  the  breacli  of  a  mere  conventional  law, 
where  he  does  not  feel  it  sting,  and  makes  that  the  scapegoat.     But 
partly  also,  it  can  hardly  be  doubted,  the  rapid  fall  was  due  to  the 
harsh  judgments  of  the  few  religious  i^eople  he  knew  on  what  might 
have  been  blameless  and  legitimate.     He  was  a  "  Sabbath-breaker," 
and  so  was  left  to  consort  with  others  like  himself,  worse  than  himself, 
with  no  purer  influence  to  make  the  rest  restful,  and  the  recreation 
re-creative ;  and  thus  the  one  day  which  might  have  helped  to  raise 
him  only  plunged  him  deeper  in  the  mire  and  clay, 

(2.)  I  look  with  far  less  satisfaction  on  the  Simday  bands.  Ad- 
mitting all  that  has  been  said  as  to  the  order  and  decorum  of  the 
crowds  that  flock  to  them ;  admitting  also  that,  for  many  who  attend, 
tliere  may  be  a  change  for  the  better  from  what  might  have  been  their 
employment  of  their  Sunday  leisure,  I  am  compelled  to  add  that  their 
effect,  as  a  whole,  seems  to  me  evil  rather  than  good.  Precisely  be- 
cause I  estimate  highly  the  power  of  music  as  an  instrument  for  moral 
and  spiritual  culture,  and  beheve  that  its  character  has  a  real  and 
lasting  influence  on  that  of  nations  and  individual  men,  1  must  deplore 
the  short-sighted  kindness  wliich,  on  the  day  that  Christendom  holds 
aacred  with  a  holy  joy,  offers  to  the  million  music  of  the  most 
secolax  and  sensuous  character,  divorced  from  all  high  thoughts  and 
noble  words,  ministering  simply  to  amusement.  I  never  see  the 
crowds  that  are  thus  gathered  witliout  mourning  over  the  great 
opportunity  wasted ;  and  there  floats  before  me  the  vision  of  what 
might  be,  if  Christendom  should  put  forth  its  power  of  speech  and 
flong  and  music,  and  there,  under  the  shadow  of  the  trees  and  beneath 
the  evening  sky,  call  on  men  to  rejoice  and  give  thanks.  Far  off  as 
the  folflmeut  of  that  dream  may  be,  it  would  but  be  the  application 
to  the  disorders  of  our  own  time  of  the  methods  by  which  Chiysostom 
met  the  fiilsehood  ami  heresy  of  his.    When  the  Arians  drew  multi- 


164  The  Contemporary  Review. 

tudes  after  them  witli  stately  processions  and  cliants  that  caught  the 
people's  ear,  he  countemcted  them  with  processions  yet  more  stately, 
and  hyums  yet  more  popular.  In  the  meantime  we  may  at  least 
strive  (as  has  been  done  hi  our  Metropohtan  Abbey  and  Cathedral, 
and  in  many  a  parish  church)  to  revive  sometliing  of  the  beauty  and 
power  of  Christian  music,  and  so  to  make  that  great  gift  of  God  not 
only  the  utterance  of  souls  already  devout,  but  an  instrument,  in  the 
Church's  missionary  work,  for  attracting  and  evangelizing  the  masses. 
As  it  is,  seeing  that  the  practice  lias  been  officially  sanctioned  for  some 
years,  and  may  plead  a  long-standing  precedent  elsewliere,  it  is  wiser, 
I  tliink,  to  trust  to  these  counteracting  influences,  than  to  agitate  with 
a  view  of  putting  a  pressure  from  without  on  Government,  and  so 
suppressing  them.  Such  a  pressure,  if  it  were  to  fail,  would  leave 
matters  worse  than  they  are ;  and  if  it  were  to  succeed,  would  be  the 
starting-point  of  a  new  and  perilous  phase  of  the  controversy.  We 
should  purchase  an  out\vard  Sabbath  decorum  at  the  price  of  an  intense 
bitterness  and  iiTitation  in  the  class  which  we  ought  most  to  endeavour 
to  conciliate,  and  win  over  to  the  truth. 

(3.)  The  openmg  of  museums,  galleries,  public  libraries  on  Sundays 
is,  for  England  at  least,  still  future,  and  it  is  the  right  and  the  duty  of 
every  man  who  acknowledges  the  importance  of  the  change  to  weigh 
well  its  probable  consequences,  and  not  to  slirink  from  declaring  his 
conviction.  Not  without  some  reluctance,  not  without  some  pain  at 
differiug  from  so  many  of  the  foremost  men  of  our  time,  I  am  con- 
strained t«  say,  that  so  far  as  my  voice  can  have  weight  with  any  one, 
it  must  be  given  against  the  change.  I  admit  the  plausible  case  that 
may  be  made  on  the  score  of  the  humanizing  effect  of  art  and  science, 
of  the  possibility  of  even  higher  than  humanizing  effects  from  the 
higher  forms  of  each.  I  admit  also  that,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Sunday 
bands,  it  might  be  for  many  the  least  of  two  evils.  If  the  concession 
were  to  be  made,  though  I  should  oppose  it  up  to  the  last  moment,  I 
should  not  think  it  right  to  bring  a  railing  accusation  against  our 
rulers  as  guilty  of  a  national  desecration,  nor  fling  the  charge  of 
Sabbath-breaking  and  profaneness  at  those  who  availed  themselves  of 
it.  But  not  the  less  should  I  regard  it  as  a  step  downward  and  not 
upwards.  (1.)  It  tends  directly  to  a  substitution  of  sesthetic  for  moral 
culture,  and  all  experience  shows  that  it  never  can  be  so  substituted 
without  a  fatal  deterioration,  l^ractically,  the  morning's  rest,  and  the 
dinner,  and  the  museum,  and  the  park,  woidd  swallow  up  the  whole 
day,  and  leave  no  time,  I  will  not  say  for  the  two  religious  serviooB 
which  the  prescription  of  many  centmries  has  recognised  aa  a  general 
standard,  but  even  for  one.  Tlie  day  so  kept  may  still  be  a  Dus  Svlis, 
but  it  will  cease  to  be  a  Dies  Dominiais.  (2.)  If  there  is  the  risk  of 
cant  on  one  side,  the  other  is  not  free  from  it ;  and  of  all  forms  of  cant 
and  platitude,  probably  the  most  unreal  and  platitudinarian  is  that 


Sunday.  165 

which  speaks  of  visits  to  museums  and   galleries  as  leading  men 

directly  to  "reverence  and  love  of  the  Deity."*     Idle  curiosity,  vague 

gazing  at  new  wonders,  reference  to  catalogues  to  find  out  the  name  of 

an  object  or  an  artist — with  the  more  intelligent,  some  eagerness  to 

add  to  their  stock  of  knowledge,  these  are  there,  and  show  themselves 

fthnndantly ;  hut  I  desire  more  evidence  than  I  have  yet  seen,  as  to 

there  being  any  direct  religious  influence  for  good  coming  from  such 

places.    It  must  be  added  that,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  all  art  galleries 

contain,  and,  to  be  historically  complete,  must  contain,  samples  of  all 

schools  of  art,  of  what  is  sensuous  and  meretricious  as  well  as  that 

which  is  pure  imd  refined.     The  Venus  and  the  Madonna,  the  Satyr 

and  the  Saint,  stand  side  by  side  together ;  and  there  is  at  least  the 

risk  that  many  among  those  who  go  there  with  coarse  and  prurient 

tastes  may  fasten  on  the  former  rather  than  the  latter.     Tlie  danger 

exists,  it  is  true,  at  other  times,  but  it  is  surely  worse  when  it  turns 

the  day  which  might  help  to  purify  into  a  temptation  to  impurity  of 

thought.     (3.)  I  am  not  usually  disposed  to  attach  much  weight  to 

the  "  thin  end  of  the  wedge  "  ai^Timent,  so  often  used  by  the  opponents 

of  any  change  in  Church  or  State.    But  it  is  legitimate,  in  this  instance, 

to  ask  where  the  principle  on  which  it  is  proposed  to  act  can  consist- 

mtly  stop.     Whatever  may  be  said  of  the  moral,  humanizing  effects 

of  art  and  science,  may  be  said,  d  fortiori  almost,  of  music  and  poetry. 

If  galleries  are  open,  why  not  sanction  concerts  and  public  readings  ? 

At  first,  perhaps,  they  would  be  suggested  with  sacred  music  and 

serious  poetry;  but  the  history  of  all  such  movements  (to  say  nothing 

rf  the  recent  experience  of  park  music)  shows  that  the  limit  is  soon 

passed,  and  before  long  we  should  have  promenade  concerts,  with 

nothing  but  waltzes  and  polkas,  and  Mr.  liellew  might  be  engaged  to 

read  "  Mrs.  Caudle's  Curtain  Lectures,"  and  "  Bob  Sawyer's  Supper 

Party,"  on   Sundays,  as  he  now  does  on  weekdays.      If  the  prin- 

cjpie,  tiiat  whatever  is   a  legitimate   and   improving   relaxation   on 

weekdays  is  legitimate  also  on  the  Lord's  day,  be  recognised,  those 

who"clflim  that  chwacter  for  our  theatres  might  make  out  a  very 

fusible  case  for  opening  them  also.     If  actors  were  willing  to  perform, 

ind  people  willing  to  go,  why  should  Government  restrain  their  liberty 

in  these  self-r^arding  actions?    Our  greater  softness  of  manners  might 

•tc^us  from  the  atrocities  of  bull-baiting  and  cock-fighting,  till  we 

reach  the  stage  where  extremes  meet,  and  effeminacy  requires  the 

stimulus  of  cruelty  to  rouse  it  as  much  as  did  the  dulness  of  savageiy; 

kutjin  all  other  respecta  we  should  fall  back  into  the  licence  of  the 

Sniidaya  of  the  Tudors  and  the  Stuarts,  of  the  half-pagan  society  of 

ttie'Lower  Empire,  such  as  called  out  the  penal  edicts  of  Theodosius 

tud  Justinian,    And  then,  if  the  disease  were  not  fatal,  the  remedy 

tonld,  in  all  likeUhood,  take  the  old  shape.    Tliere  would  be  once 

'  Sunday  League's  Petition  to  the  Queen. 


1 66  The  Contemporary  Revievj. 

again  a  fierce,  zealous,  Sabbatarian  reaction — zealous  with  a  true  zeal 
for  God,  though  not  according  to  knowledge,  and  therefore  in  its  turn 
tending  once  again  to  a  violent  oscillation  to  the  extreme  of  licence. 
(4.)  On  these  grounds,  then,  I  venture  to  think  that  those  who  have 
any  influence  on  public  opinion  would  do  well  to  oppose  instead  of 
furthering  the  projected  change,  and  that  statesmen,  so  far  as  they 
profess  to  act  on  their  own  convictions,  should  weigh  well  the  conse- 
quences, remote  as  well  as  near,  of  a  step  which  may  seem  to  promise 
a  temporary  good,  and  will  certaiidy  gain  them  a  temporary  popularity. 
If,  as  often  happens,  they  profess  to  be  only  the  exponents  of  public 
opinion,  ready  to  sacrifice  private  feelings  on  this  side  or  that,  then  I 
think  they  would  do  well  to  wait  till  that  opinion  presents  itself  in  a 
much  more  aiithoritative  and  unmistakeable  shape  than  it  has  yet 
assumed. 

11.  Present  Duties. 
What  then  is  our  duty,  in  Scotland  and  in  England,  in  small 
things  and  great,  in  principle  and  practice,  at  the  present  moment  ? 
How  ought  we  to  speak  and  act?  Disclaiming,  as  involving  the 
very  evil  into  which  the  Scribes  and  I'harisees  fell,  all  attempt 
at  a  minute  casuistry,  I  submit  the  following  suggestions  as  iioint- 
ing  to  what  is  now  incumbent  on  us.  (1.)  Enough  has  been 
said,  I  think,  to  show  the  unprofitableness  of  a  prolonged  and 
fierce  controversy  on  the  abstract  question.  The  case  of  those 
who  rest  the  obligation  of  Sunday  on  the  Sabbath  law  may  seem 
to  them  strong,  but  it  is  at  any  lute  debateable,  and  it  is  ill  done  to 
divide  on  that  question  those  who  would  otherwise  be  able  to  act 
together  in  securing  Ibr  the  Lord's  day  the  observance  which  nearly 
all  Christians  recognise  as  legitimate  and  necessary.  (2.)  We  new! 
to  apply  the  rule  which  St.  Paul  laid  down  in  reference  to  precisely 
the  same  controversy.  Tlie  weak  should  not  condemn  the  strong; 
the  strong  shoidd  not  despise  the  weak.  Mutual  forbearance, 
respect,  coui-tesy,  the  absence  of  wliispers  and  scandals  and  insinua- 
tions, abstinence  from  the  arts  which  have  made  theological  contro- 
versies a  by-word,  these  are  conditions  of  any  successful  issue  of  this 
or  any  other  discussion.  I,  for  one,  find  much  to  admire  in  the 
courage  of  those  who  maintain  what  they  hold  to  be  a  Divine  law,  in 
the  face  of  an  advancing  tide  of  popular  opinion ;  even  more  perhaps 
in  that  of  one  who  risks  the  loss  of  position,  influence,  tranquillity, 
popularity,  in  the  face  of  a  great  majority  of  his  own  order,  and  the 
opinion  of  thousands  whom  he  esteems.  I  should  shrink,  whatever 
my  convictions  might  be,  from  bandying  to  and  fro  the  words  "  sabba- 
tarianLsm"  and  "  Sabbath-breaking."  (3.)  The  rule  for  personal  conduct 
must  be  that  given  of  old,  "  Let  every  one  be  fully  persuaded  in  his 
own  mind ; "  "  Let  him  judge  himself,  and  not  another."  Those  who 
recognise  any  religious  duty  at  all  in  the  matter  must  look  to  the  end 


Sunday.  167 

for  which  the  day  exists,  and,  in  their  obsen'ance  or  nou-obser\'ance  of 
it,  act  as  St.  Paul  has  counselled.     To  make  tlie  former  an  instrument 
of  restraint,  suffering,  weariness,  to  impose  our  special  rules  upon  others 
who  do  not  admit  their  authority,  is  so  to  observe  the  day  as  not  to 
otseiTe  it  "  unto  the  Lord."     To  make  freedom  a  cloak  for  licence,  to 
crave  only  for  more  opportunities  for  the  amusement  of  one  class  at  the 
cost  of  another,  or- worse  still,  for  more  opportunities  for  mere  money- 
makiiig  that  benefits  no  clags  and  injures  many,  is  a  non-observance 
Ktf  "unto  the  Lord."*     Each  man  for  himself  is  bound  to   strive 
to  use  the  day  for  rest,  refreshment,  acts  of  kindness,  renewal  of  the 
ties  of  friendship  and  household  life,  and  in  this  to  infringe,  as  little  as 
maj-  be,  on  the  enjoyment  by  others  of  what  he  claims  for  himself. 
Each  man  is  bound  also  to  remember  that  the  name  which  Christen- 
dom has  given  to  the  day  implies  a  consecration,  which  makes  it,  not 
the  substitute  for  the  dedication  of  the  life,  but  its  representative  and 
type.    The  rest  must  not  be  sloth,  nor  the  refreshment  merely  sen- 
fflioua,  nor  the  self-culture  merely  intellectual  and  sesthetic.    Acts  of 
worship ;  communion  with  the  Church,  which  represents  the  higher 
life,  as  well  as  fellowship  with  the  mi.xed  forms  of  social  intercourse, 
which  may  so  easily  pass  into  the  lower ;  growth  in  spiritual  know- 
ledge— these  must  be  recognised  as  essential  elements   of  the  tru* 
character  of  the  day.     And  what  each  man  should  do  for  himself 
that  those  who  have  wider  influence   should  do   for  others.     Em- 
ployers of  labour  on  a  large  scale  are  bound,  at  least  to  minimiz* 
tiie  work,  wherever  it  cannot  be  stopped  altogether  without  the  risk 
of  an  evil  greater  than  the  gain.     The  total  prohibition  of  traffic  bj 
cabs,  omnibuses,  railways,  cannot,  I  believe,  be   attempted  without 
luch  a  risk ;  and,  being  there,  it  is  for  the  individual  conscience  to 
decide  when  there  is  a  sufficient  reason  for  making  use  of  them.     I 
will  not  condemn  one  neiglibour  for  the  act  of  so  using;  I  will  not 
condemn  another  because  he  permits  his  children  to  write  letters  to 
flieir  relations,  or  the  boys  of  his  parish  to  refresh  themselves  with 
oatdoor  exercise  or  games.      I  wiH  not  revive  the  old   Jewish  fig- 
ment of  a  Sabbath-day's  journey,  and  aay  that  a  walk  of  two  miles  is 
pramissible,  but  one  of  ten  or  twenty  sinful.     I  can  say  to  aU  that  a 
Sunday  in  which  there  has  been  no  joy,  rest,  peace,  kindness,  prayer,  is 
a  day  wasted  and  misused ;  that  to  indulge  ourselves  in  pleasure  at 
the  cost  of  making  the  whole  day  one  of  weary  labour  for  others  is  a 
an,  not  against  the  Fourth  Commandment,  but  against  the  law  of 
ChrisL     (4.)  The  question  of  legislative  interference,  or  Government 
action  without  legislation,  is  one  of  far  greater  difliculty.     The  right  of  , 
controlling  imlimited  freedom  of  action  for  tlie  sake  of  public  good  is, 
of  course,  conceded ;  but  the  public  good  must  be  clear  and  demon- 

*  The  phiMe  ia  taken  from  an  admirable  letter  by  the  late  ATr.  Bobertson  of  Brighton 
CIdfe  and  Letters,"  iL,  p.  114). 


i68  Tlie  Contemporary  Review. 

stmble,  the  legislation  must  con-espond  to  tlie  feeling  of  the  great  bidk 
of  the  people,  or  it  will  be  fruitless.  It  must  not  be  the  triumph  rf 
the  dogmatism  or  the  recklessness  of  a  mere  majority.  There  is  the 
risk,  in  all  police  regulations  on  religious  matters,  of  producing  hypo- 
crisy, secret  licence  worse  than  that  which  shows  itself  openly,  a 
fltrong  repugnance  to  what  is  so  enforced,  turning  the  blessing  into  a 
curse.  The  wisest  course  in  such  a  case  for  those  who  think,  as  I 
do,  that  the  Sundays  of  most  of  our  large  towns  in  England  are  a 
scandal  and  a  repraach,  is  to  be  conteut  with  the  existing  laws, 
to  welcome  any  Goveniment  action  which  really  relieves  labour  and 
improves  the  condition  of  the  labouring  poor ;  to  take  a\\Tiy  the  false 
rigour  which  makes  the  Lord's  day  wearisome  and  unattractive ;  to 
abstain  from  imputing  a  fictitious  crimuiality  to  acts  which  are  them- 
selves indifferent;  to  adapt  our  worship  and  our  preaching,  more  than 
we  have  done,  to  the  wants  of  our  own  time.  A  mere  police  restraint 
on  Simday  traffic  or  Sunday  trading,  however  necessary  it  may  lie  to 
the  ends  for  which  a  Christian  State  is  justified  in  imposing  it,  leads  but 
to  a  poor  result ;  but  public  opinion  may  well  be  brought  to  bear  upon 
companies  and  lai^ger  proprietors,  that  they  may  give  the  workers  whom 
they  control  their  shai-e  of  rest.  In  the  name  of  the  Lord  of  the  Lord's 
day,  we  may  protest  against  the  tjTanny  of  one  class  over  anotlier,  of 
the  clnas  who  can  pay  for  pleasure  over  the  class  that  must  work  for 
bread ;  and  so  the  day  may  yet  become,  as  the  Sabbath  was  meant 
to  be,  "a  delight,  holy  to  the  Ix>rd,  honourable."* 

•  It  vould  be  wrong  to  close  this  paper  without  Bpeaking  of  the  masterly  and  elaboratt 
treatment  of  the  subject  by  Dr.  Hessoy,  in  hia"  Bampton  T^ecturcB"  for  1860.  Accidental 
circumBtanceB  have  hindered  my  referring  to  that  Tolomc  till  the  last  moment,  as  theaa 
iheets  are  posaing  through  the  press ;  but  I  am  conBcioua  that  I  ove  much,  and  probably 
unconariously  I  owe  more,  to  that  full  etorehouse  of  facte  and  arguments.  It  vill  be  seen, 
however,  that  I  differ  from  Br.  Heasey  in  not  being  able  to  accept  the  validity  of  the  n^ 
Boning  by  which  he  claims  a  Divine  and  perpetual'  authority  for  the  observance  of  th« 
Lord's  day.     His  Byllogism,  if  I  do  not  misrepresent  it,  stands  thus, — 

^^atcver  was  ordained  by  the  apostles  (obviously  temporary  enactments 
eicepted)  is  of  Divine  and  perpetual  obligation. 

The  Lord's  day  was  so  ordained : 

Therefore,  It  is  of  Divine  and  perpetual  obligation. 
Of  this  syllogism,  it  may  be  questioned  how  far  the  major  premiss  has  tho  character  of  a 
theological  axiom;  and  the  cvidenco  of  the  minor  is  confessedly  probable  only  and  uncer- 
tain.    That  which  I  would  substitute  for  it  is  as  follows : — 

What  the  Christian  society  has  accepted  CTorywhere,  and  in  oU  agea 
(obviously  eccentric  departures  from  the  nile  excepted),  may  legitimately 
be  regarded  as  essential  to  the  Christian  life. 

The  religious  observance  of  tiie  Lord's  day  has  been  so  recognised : 

Therefore,  The  religious  observance  of  the  Lord's  day  may  legitimately  bs 
essential  to  tho  Christian  life. 
We_agree  in  finding  the  measure  of  that  observance  in  the  lessons  of  experience,  in  the 
teaching  of  Christ  and  of  St  Paul,  in  a  mae  expediency,  in  adapting  it  to  the  "  diver- 
nties  of  countries,  times,  and  men's  manners,"  in  a  wide  sympathy  fur  those  whose  know- 
ledge, habiti,  feelingt,  are  imlike  our  own. 

E.  H.  Plumftre. 


NOTICES  OF   BOOKS. 


Work  and  ProsjiectK :  A  Charge,  to  the  Ckrtjij  of  the.  Dh'ZfMi  of  York. 
Delivered  at  liis  Priiniirj-  Visitation  in  October,  ISGS,  by  the  Most 
Rev,  William  Lord  Archbishop  op  York,  &c.  Lomloii :  •Jolin 
Murray. 

THIS  is  a  genuiiip,  liearty  effusion  of  n.  chief  paator,  anxious  for  the 
welfare  of  his  flock,  and  exceedingly  well  able  to  promote  it.  The 
statiatics  and  wants  of  the  diocese  are  carefully  summed  up ;  the  principal 
infiaences  ■which  counteract  the  work  of  the  Church  are  teni]ierately,  but  at 
the  same  time  boldly  indicated ;  and  the  public  topics  which  are  at  the 
present  time  of  moment  to  the  Church  are  dealt  with  in  a  liberal  and  dis- 
eriininating  spirit. 

We  hasten  to  point  out  the  salient  matters  of  interest  on  which  the  Arch- 
bishop touches.  These  subdivide  themselves,  according  to  the  division  of 
the  charge  itself,  into  diocesan  and  general. 

Of  the  former  class,  to  mention  only  cursorily  the  great  subject  in  every 
diocese,  the  overtaking  of  the  work  to  l)e  done  by  the  means  ()f  douig  it, — 
towards  which  end  we  are  glad  to  see  that  the  Common  Fund  of  the  Eccle- 
aartical  Commissioners  has  in  York  very  lai^ly  contributed, — we  will 
mention  first  one  matter  to  which  public  attention  has  been  lately  csdled  by 
the  proceedings  at  the  Social  Science  Congress :  the  state  of  the  youi^ 
people  in  the  manufacturing  and  agricultural  districts  of  our  largest  county. 
That  in  one  of  our  great  centres  of  industry  and  intelligence,  "  lads  of  seven- 
teen or  eighteen  do  not  know  the  name  of  CJhrist,  the  Bible,  or  the  Queen," 
IB  startling  enough  to  hear :  as  is  it  also  to  learn  that  youths  employed  in 
the  glass-works  at  Castleford  are  "  almost  wholly  unalucatcd."  The  Arch- 
birfiop  may  well  say  that  "  there  are  spots  of  licathen  ilarknesa  upon  the 
hr^ht  face  of  this  country ;  and  souls  as  dear  to  Christ  as  yours  or  mine, 
whom  no  man  has  awakened  to  know  their  great  inheritance,  their  right  to 
1  life  for  God,  and  immortality  with  Him,"  Tlie  system  of  farmhouse 
senitade  seems  to  be  still  as  bad  in  Yorkshire  as  in  the  darkest  times 
of  ignorance  and  irreligion.  The  Archbishop  "  tnists  the  time  will  come 
vheu  people  will  hear  with  incredulity  that  farmers  used  to  take   into 


1 70  TIic  Contemporary  Review. 

their  homes,  where  their  wives  ami  chiltlren  dwell,  young  sen'ants  of 
hoth  sexes  without  the  sliglitest  iniiuiry  into  their  character :  that  they 
BO  arraiigwl  tlio  work  of  the  Suinlay,  that  it  should  be  impossible  to 
some  of  their  dependents  to  enter  a  place  of  worship  from  the  beginning  of 
the  contnit-t  to  the  end  of  it :  that  they  did  not  attempt  to  exercise  any 
influence  over  tlieir  cliaracter  or  general  behaviour."  This  miserable  system, 
"  gatlieriug  pericHlically  its  scattered  tires  of  disorder  into  one  flame  at  the 
Statute  Hiring,  when  hundreds  of  young  men  and  women,  with  no  efficient 
restraint,  spend  a  day  at  some  to^TO,  in  the  streets  or  in  tlie  public-houses," 
the  Archbishop  seems  to  tliink  so  firmly  established  as  to  render  thorough 
amelioration  hopeless.  He  concludes  this  part  of  hia  chaise  by  saying 
that  "  every  one  who  lias  the  iiifliience  owes  it  as  a  solemn  duty  to  GJod,  to 
endeavour  to  remove  tliose  features  of  the  system  which  at  present  render 
difficult  or  ahriost  impossible,  1  do  not  say  a  high  religious  tone  of  mind, 
but  even  tlie  outward  deci-ney  which  belongs  to  every  civilized  society." 

The  Archbislujp  speaks  of  the  Jiill  wliicli  he  uitroduced  last  session  to 
enable  jiublic  conii>anie8  to  vote  money  for  religious  or  educational  purposes 
by  a  majority  of  tlirce-fourtlis  of  their  sliareholdcrs :  about  which  Bill  the 
iQcctric  Telegi".i]i]i  Company  spread  the  absurd  report,  that  its  intention  was 
to  compel  all  Riilway  comjianies  to  tench  their  people  the  Church  Catechism. 
"We  are  gliid  to  see  that  it  is  His  (irace'a  intention  to  reintroduce  the  Bill, 
which,  having  passed  the  Lonls,  was  not  introduced  in  the  Commons  owing 
to  the  lateness  of  tlie  session. 

The  ArchViishop  touelies  sligiitly  on  what  is  called  the  free  Church  move- 
ment. We  are  suiTy  to  see  that  he  gives  even  the  least  encouragement  to 
one  featui-e  of  tliat  plan  as  now  propounded :  the  opening  nf  our  churches 
without  any  ap])ropriation  at  all.  We  conceive  tliat  were  this  to  become 
the  practice,  just  m  tliat  [jrojiortion  would  the  rights  of  parishionera  in  their 
parish  church  be  set  at  nought,  and  those  whose  nee<l  is  most  pressing  be 
excludetl  from  public  worsliip,  Nothing  can  be  farther  from  the  true 
Christian  view  of  the  matter,  than  that  i)ut  forth  in  the  publications  of  the 
"  Free  Scramble"  Society.  The  poor  man  ought  tti  have  his  seat  as  well  aa 
the  rich  man :  and  till  he  lias,  we  shall  never  bring  the  poor  to  church. 
The  (jld,  the  weak,  the  timid,  will  never  come,  uncertain  where  they  are  to 
be  ])Iaced,  or  whether  they  can  he  placed  at  ail :  and  non-rfppropriation  has 
been  univcrsiilly  found  to  give  place  in  a  very  short  time  tn  the  very  worst 
kind  of  appropriation,  the  tjTiinny  of  the  sti-oug  and  proud  over  the  feeble 
and  modest.  'Hie  Archbishoji  states,  in  favour  of  the  non-appropriation  plan, 
that  "it  is  simjiie  and  equal."  This  is  just  the  temptatiou  which  has  drawn 
so  many  jiersons  into  advocating  the  adoption  of  it.  It  sliirka  the  real  diffi- 
culty of  the  question.  How  to  get  our  poor  to  church?  and  instead  of  solving 
it,  proposes  a  sliowy  and  specious  evasion  of  it.  We  are  glad  to  find  Uiat 
some  (iistingiiislied  persons  are  making  a  ]iianful  stand  against  the  arrogant 
pretensions  of  the  Society  ;  and  must  rei)eat  our  sorrow  at  seeing  so  truly 
able  a  man  as  Dr.  ITjompson  even  ajiparcntly  giving  countenance  to  them. 

Our  readers  will  not  be  surprised  that  the  Archbishop,  in  urging  the  duty 
of  family  prayer,  should  lament  the  deliciencies  of  all  our  existing  books  of 
domestic  devotion.  "  Some,"  he  says,  "  arc  an  agglomerate  of  phrases  from 
our  collects,  or  of  portions  of  texts  of  Holy  Scri]>ture ;  otliers  aim  at 
teacliing,  rather  than  asking :  they  are  expositions  of  doctrine  in  the  second 
person  instead  of  the  thiitl.  Otliers,  compih^d  from  divines  of  another 
generation,  speak  of  wants  and  difficulties  that  are  not  ours,  or  speak  of  oiirs 
in  a  language  that  wc  are  beginning  to  forget.  Prayers  should  be  scriptural, 
hut  not  made  up  of  fragments  of  Scriptui-e  forced  out  of  their  context,  and 


Notices  of  Books.  1 7  r 

so  mixed  with  phiusea  of  hrniiau  invention  as  to  gloss  and  alter  them." 
Ilus  is  a  true  testimony,  as  we  hope  to  show  before  lony  in  an  article 
devoted  to  the  subject :  and  such  bold  words  from  such  a  (inarter  cannot 
kt  tend  to  remove  the  evil,  at  least  by  discoim^iy  the  use  of  our  common 
irniiii'^  of  femily  prayer. 

The  charge  concludes  with  the  consideration  of  a  few  matters  of  public 
bterest  Of  the  late  wideimig  of  the  terms  of  clerical  subscription,  the 
Archbishop  speaks  with  much  hope,  but  at  the  same  time  guardedly ;  and 
acbiovledges  that  in  the  new  form  there  is  an  element  of  ambiguity  which 
TOB  not  found  in  the  old  :  viz.,  the  expression  " Dm  dtKtr'um  therein  (in  the 
Iwok  of  Common  Prayer)  contained."  But  he  believes  that  iu  the  new  form 
we  have  sufficient  security,  inasmuch  as  we  have  "  a  promise  to  use  the  hook 
asA.  no  other,  and  to  use  it  because  of  an  assent  to  it :  and  the  assent  is  not 
merely  n^ative,  but  founded  on  a  belief  that  the  boily  of  doctrine  whicli 
underlies  this  hook  of  devotion  is  scriptural,  and  therefore  tnie." 

As  to  the  Articles  ^ain,  the  Archbishop  thinks  that  "  it  cannot  be  denied 
that  "  a  small  opening  is  left,"  in  the  new  Declaration,  "  for  doubt  to  creep 
in;"  inasmuch  as,  whereas  the  former  Declaration  extended  to  "  all  and 
every"  of  the  Articles,  "  the  new  one  acknowle<lge.s  the  lUicfriiic  of  tJie 
Chmvh  contained  in  the  Articles  to  be  agreeable  to  the  Wonl  of  God." 

He  touches  slightly  and  cautiously  on  the  difficult  question  of  the  func- 
liima  of  Convocation,  which  he  naturally  reganls  from  the  jiosition  of  Pre- 
lident  of  the  Synod  of  the  Northern  Provinces. 

The  Archbisiiop  lastly  passes  under  review  the  various  propositions  which 
have  been  nuule  for  motlifyuig  the  present  court  of  final  ap]ieal  in  ecclesias- 
tieal  cases :  and  wliile  himself  decidedly  in  favour  of  retaining  the  present 
mixed  character  of  the  tribunal,  thinks  that  an  imiirovement  might  he 
effected,  i^  while  the  whole  Committee  joined  iu  a  report  to  the  Crown,  each 
member  of  it  pronounced  his  judgment  separately,  so  that  the  reasons  of  the 
minority  might  be  declared  as  well  aa  those  of  the  majority  :  and  if  a  stand- 
ing Sub-Committee  of  the  Judicial  Committee  were  carefully  selected,  who 
ahoold  be  always  summoned  to  sit  on  ecclesiastical  causes. 

We  have  gone  at  greater  length  into  the  contents  of  this  charge  than  will 
be  our  geneml  practice.  Tlie  primary  expression  of  opinion  of  a  bishop  hke 
Dr.  Thompson  must  he  of  interest  to  all  Ciiurchmen ;  and  the  interest  is  in 
this  case  increased  by  the  time  at  which,  and  the  manner  in  wliich,  that 
expieadon  of  opinion  is  given.  It  is  no  httle  to  the  credit  of  the  present 
Archbishop  of  York,  that  the  unexampled  rapidity  of  his  promotion  has  not 
betrayed  hini  into  any  of  the  temptations  of  a  novice  :  that  he  has  set  about 
his  work,  and  about  the  exposition  of  it,  in  an  able,  judicious,  business-like 
■{nrit.  And  it  will  not  discommend  the  sound  a4lvice  and  [}ractical  argu- 
nenta  of  this  his  primary  charge,  that  they  are  relieved  anil  carried  home  to 
Ub  heart  hy  fervent  expressions  of  affection  and  zeal. 

A  Charge  delivered  to  tJie  Glergy  and  Church tcurdi'tm  of  th«  Diocese  of  Ely, 
at  his  Primary  Visitation  in  October  and  November,  1 8G5.  By  Edward 
Habold  Lord  Bishop  of  Ely.     London  :  Longmans. 

Every  one  who  knows  the  BLiliop  of  Ely  will  liave  exiwcted  fi-om  him  a 
piinury  charge  showing  both  acqiiaintance  with  the  actually  existent  re- 
qoirementa  of  the  Church,  and  kindly  sjinpatliy  with  modem  thought. 
oat  none  can  have  supposed  that  either  of  these  would  move  him  from  the 
fan  foundation  of  the  faitli  dehvercd  once  for  all,  or  dispose  him  to  sacri- 
fice any  point  of  defence  for  doctrine  or  discipUne. 


172  The  Co7ttemporary  Review, 

llie  cliai'ge  before  ua  is  n  clear  and  bold  exposition  of  the  mental  cha- 
racter above  indicJiUd.  Passinf^  over  the  merely  diocesan  matters  on  which 
it  t(»nelie9,  we  will  make  a  few  remarks  on  its  treatment  of  the  mora 
inijxirtiuit  subjects  which  now  occupy  public  attentiom 

AVe  j,nither  from  the  Bishop's  remarks  on  the  snpi>ly  of  clergy,  that  he 
refits  tlie  diminution  of  the  number  of  attractive  prizes  in  the  Church  aa  a 
jirofession.  In  this  feeling  we  confess  we  do  not  share.  We  think  that  the 
Church  of  I]n|^Ianil  lias  qnito  enough  of  these  left  for  all  her  legitimate 
wiint«,  if  any  provision  could  bo  made  for  their  being  properly  b^towed. 
Tlie  mischief  is,  and  will  remain  as  long  as  the  present  system  lasts,  that  the 
nnmlwr  of  ('hurch  prizes  really  open  to  the  deserving  is  not  one-half  of 
tlioso  which  tigure  in  the  "C'lergy  List,"  and  that  the  nityority  of  them  ftie 
still  conferred  hy  favour,  or  as  the  consequence  of  birtk  Besides,  we  very 
mucli  doubt  whether  denneriea,  and  canonries,  and  rich  Crown  livings,  eitha 
ought  to,  or  do  in  matter  of  fact,  enter  into  the  minds  of  young  candidatee 
for  orders  as  a  motive  in  the  choice  of  their  profession  :  an  hypothesis  which 
has  far  too  often  been  allowed  to  pass  unchallenged.  If  every  small  living 
were  so  raiseil  as  that  none  should  leave  its  ineimihent  without  a  comfoit- 
able  conijietency,  the  Cliurch  woidd  l^e,  as  it  is  now  not  far  from  being,  the 
host  providetl  of  all  the  professions.  In  its  case,  comparisons  with  otiier  profes- 
sions are  always  falhicious.  In  them,  skill  and  success  are  bound  together; 
whereas  the  Ixwt  clei^ymen  are  often  those  who  are  least  Hkely,  not  seldom 
those  who  an:  least  anxious,  to  move  upwards,  or  to  move  at  all.  The 
aWnce  of  ambition  from  medical  men  or  lawyers  would  be  a  detriment  to 
the  meiliciU  and  legal  professions  :  whereas  it  would  be  a  positive  advant^e 
to  the  Church  if  there  were  no  ambitious  clergymen. 

"We  are  glad  to  see  that  the  Bishop  lends  a  helping  word  to  the  excellent 
metlxHls  now  Ix'ing  adopt^Nl  for  better  parochial  organization, — the  employ- 
ment of  mission  women,  and,  tinder  due  reguktions,  the  ministiy  of  ladies 
acting  together  as  deaconesses.     He  remarks  : — 

"  Such,  to  be  efficient,  must  probably  live  and  TOrk  as  a  body :  but  it  is  needleao,  and 
inconsiatt>nt  with  the  spirit  of  our  own  refonned  Church,  that  they  should  be  bound 
together  by  a  tow.  That  ladies  who  feel  railed  to  such  labours  should  devote  thcmaelvca 
to  tending  the  sick  and  vi^ting  the  afflicted,  is  surely  a  thing  to  be  cherished,  not  to  be 
rejected.    -Ul  we  need  is  to  guard  against  offence,  and  to  direct  with  wisdom," 

Tliat  such  ministrations  should  have  been  partially  discouraged  among  w^ 
and  all  their  fresh  vigour  and  energy  thrown  wholly  into  one  section  <rf 
Church  opiiUon,  is  one  among  many  signs  how  completely  the  once  zealous 
Evangelical  party  lias  hist  its  first  love,  and  become  cold  and  secularized. 
Ve  art*  glad  also  to  si'e  that  one  at  least  of  our  bishojis  Kis  the  cour^p  to 
avow  what  they  all,  in  oomnion  with  clergy  and  laity,  must  feel,  that  in  the 
matter  of  missions,  **  the  system  of  annual  sermons  and  annual  meetings  in 
givat  towns  is  insufficient,  and  hsis  l>egim  to  fail"  "We  shoidd  be  disposed 
to  go  fiirthiT,  and  to  hold  that  the  anniuU  senuon  ;uid  meeting,  effete  and 
spiritless  as  Itoth  have  nniversallr  become,  are  causes  of  much  mischief 
among  ns,  by  ]>ri'ventuig  warmth  of  Christian  feeling  and  lively  interest  from 
springing  «p  towanls  om-  missions.  How  to  supplant  these  worn-out  agen- 
cies is  a  most  difficult  unestion,  with  which  we  may  hope  ere  long  to 
i'ndt\->vour  to  grajiple, 

llie  Bishop  is  s;\nguinc  with  reganl  to  dissent  : — 

'•  I  have  a  very  tiim  pereuason  that,  if  the  whole  system  of  the  Church  and  >]I  ill 
blessed  teaching  can  be  broucht  truly  to  bear  upon  themj  dissenters  may  be  w(m,  and  wm 
in  gmt  number!  to  our  &ith.  I  sav,  can  he  wtm :  I  am  sure  they  cannot  be  conqura^ 
It  is  useless  to  censure  them,  and  not  very  hopeful  to  aigne  with  ihem.    In  most  things. 


JVoiiccs  of  Books. 


^11 


iJieptttBligns  wnd  mwi  to  spct  inpport  fur  llwir  prejilditei,  not  to  find  coDvittion  of  UlPir 
errun.  But  M  tc  con  siiaw  lu  inquiring  nunils  and  IjurdenGd  bocKLienccs  and  iLOxioiu 
)iKut«  that  tliere  in  in  tie  Churri's  sj'stem,  nnd  iii  her  storehouse  of  truliia,  that  -whidi 
cnii  End  it*  way  n ilJiin,  whiih  tiiui  prvibc  the  wuunda  and  yd  aootht  tit-  Butfe-ringa,  nnd  at 
Icugiii  h>MiJ  the  distemper  and  tariafi"  tile  heart:  men.  ifiU  auivly  wittiuBs  of  ui  (liat  God 
i»in  uj  Ufa  tnith,  and  i[]ainy,^thu]mv'ehitberk<  atood  aloof  from  us,  nill  seokeiar  cotupany 
aa  f^llow-trarellcn  travellLag  to  on  ftemiLl  home.  If  whun  they  oak  bread  vire  gnit)  thi'm. 
but  the  etoaif  of  lifcltaa  eeremouy — if  *hcTi  Ihey  nak  an  egg  they  find  the  8i:orpiDn  of 
r«lioOftlirt  phiJosojjhj — they  will  tluiik  of  thoij"  Saviour's  ■warning,  'Go  ye  not  ailer  thom.' 
Cut  if.  hoth  by  life  und  doj^trine,  hy  lllu  solumn  reverence  Of  Cnureh  ordinances,  by  thl" 
lively  ti^achiiLt'  of  the  OoBjjel,  and  bv  the  iritDL'flB  of  b  toniiatent  Chrintiau  course,  you  can 
9&  forth  and  bring  homo  to  Ihem  (ihrist,  and  God  in  Christ,  yon  wlJ  n-in  thom  to  your 
ffUotnhip  hero  am  to  a  tetter  IttlJawsiiip  hereafter.  And  luiTer,  I  repeat,  hnvo  we  had 
s  betba  Tnntagu  ground  for  aouh  a  work  than  now." 

The  Bishop's  remarks  on  tlie  proajwctfl  of  our  cflinmon  itiithj  in  thti  midat 
of  lite  mdilt>m  Rtir  of  thought,  iire  deeply  interesting.  He  will  pardon  ua 
if  weclmrat'tprizc  thi'ni  as  ijomg  pervaded  with  a  tiniiility,  which  wa  3iit>|K)a6 
of  netri«ity  lM»lJtig3  to  men  whoan  judgment  is  chiwteiiftd  hy  the  coii.'iiiioitH- 
EcM  tliflt  they  arc  plucc-d  for  the  guidunce  of  otliers,  and  for  thn  oh^eTvatioii 
tf  tlie  wiirld  at  large.  Thnt  ttk  may  iihnw  our  rcJidnre  wlint  wi!  mean  wi<. 
"■ill  tilt.-  his  words  -.— 

"  Btti  if  Wdlonk  again  at'oiirprospetis.  wadat  a  different  side  of  our  hotwoOiWC  sbxiU  se« 
fiat  all  is  not  bright — thnt  clouds  ctsu  of  unuftuol  diitk«iP3s  arn  riaing  up  nnd  Ihrpateriiug 
111  We  netfl  nut  tit;  disheartened,  for  it  ia  the  Church'M  place  in  the  world  to  Ihi  militonr, 
■at  tmucphant ;  and  tn  -every  age  it  has  new  dAUgcra  and  dqw  cutUlicLB.  The  age  in 
t^h  God  hns  eajt  our  lot  is  an  a^o  likely  to  be  romt^rahL-red  in  all  fiitun;  history  ofi  one  of 
Etpid  tiaasitiaii  and  <fu.iek  change  of  thought..  I'mbntly,  einCO  ths  Rafonuatioii,  ui>  period 
Us  be«D  io  Eiarkfd  in  tlii.i  res|>opt  as  the  last  half  cpnlLLry.  Tiiere  are  mniiy  roosoM  for 
llo*-  That  very  grciirlh  of  the  population,,  on  whiih  wu  nJI  dweU  eo  frpijucntly,  hai 
Ulunlly  afttctpd  it.  "WTien  a  people  insreaaoa  rapidly,  that  intreaae  is  by  an  unuauid 
iddition  of  young  inttuti'ifl  to  its  body;  and  ao,  in  such  a  period,  the  jiroiioriiioa  of  tho 
TiHiag  to  il'ie  old  l>t:euiiii-s  vast]}"  grenler  Lhnn  in  a  mure  stationjuy  condition  of  mankind. 
Tbcu  again,  that  disproportion  of  ngeti  givvs  Bii  imiietus  to  rapid  thought  and  niiitd  change, 
lU)  i^reoiling  eails  of  youth  b«^ing  imperfectly  steudic-d  by  the  heavy  hatioat  of  old  o^e  uid 
ciperiencK.  And  this  in  the  presrnt  fentiury  has  bt'cn  tueViJ  witb  the  opening  up  of 
lull  fields  in  natural  aciencf,  in  ethnolngy,  in  i:riLi[iani,  in  uouipariitivis  philolo^cy.  Men. 
t^iehud  10  unlcKm  many  da  old  les^u  to  take  up  new  ataiKl-points ;  and  eu  liiith  hiia 
Icta  ihakra  not  imly  iiv  one  but  in  all  old  eonvictlona  and  beliefs,  Tlit!  ambitinii  ti>  aoem 
ihow  Tuljfn-  L-rwlidity,  the  pride  of  flitting  loose  to  prejudieea  and  pojmlaT  opinioas,  of 
btiDgralni  and  void  whf  re  othera  arc  xcatons  and  fanaticnJ,  is  a.  daitger  eonimon  to  all  ag<ifl, 
tin  D)0*t  b<^«<tT)ng  a  prriod  of  rapid  enU)jbti.-nment  and  teeming  youth.  And  beaides,  new 
ix\i»  havo  really  optntd  un  us;  wurliiH  have  bect-nie  known  ca  us  in  thp  diAlonl  aoas, 
vivld«  of  pact  times  have  inii;>rin1(;d  Lhtiir  bi»turii;(i  beneath  our  feet.  With  ail  have  toina 
brab  proMcnu— hislorital  problems  nut  without  tht^ir  ditEieulty,  and  moral  pnoblcnia  of  far 
fnstR  perplezitv.  It  hm  been  aidced,  for  instanie,  llow  Ih-t;  □I4;rciful  Gtid  raTtialcd  to  us 
in  the  Scriptun^  can  have  b^en  the  Creator  of  all  thoiie  Mintiont  tieinga,  which  seeui  mj>da 
udIt  bi  prey  on  ouo  another.^  And  in  the  uppjuite  diruuCiu'a.,  it  bus  bouu  ar^od  that  the 
I'M  whose  mercy  i»  over  all  His  works  can  never  will  the  final  puniiiluncnt  Mi  the  wieked, 
>f  (njiiirc  the  laciifiee  of  the  innocent,  in  plnte  of  that  EhliI  punisbmcut  ni(;ritL-d  liy  tbo 
goilty.  We  might  lean*  *ur;h  questions  to  couottrai-t  aitd  extinguish  taeh  other  ;  but  w« 
UEUlol  bv  liliud  lo  the  fad  that  these  and  kindred  difiii guides  are  leading  muny  to  tho  v^rgq 
<rf  I'tnihtiaru,  and  monv  more  lo  difiiculty,  dia]uietude.  and  doubt.  We  must  not  judgu 
loo  itctfilt  of  Bomt  of  tfcein.  There  is  nothing  more  deeply  intcreating  than  a  thoiighlhil 
aiitii  awtking  truth,  unable  to  find  it,  and  alitioat  in  its  own  desjutc  wondering  in  the 
ouLwa  of  stcplita]  unecrlaintv.  To  reeove-r  auuh  to  faitli  and  h-npe  and  pi'ate  would  be  well 
*i:4lh  our  Vivax  aniioun  Hilu-itudo,  our  mtnt  earncfit  <:<il\>i1--'.  But  lu  ^^mx  pToyortion  to 
"UT  Intejvst  in  su<h  a  ntind  is  our  natural  indication  with  those  who  wantonly  or  M'ilfidly 
Mw  hf\iad('iut  the  seeds  of  infiJclity,  carelfseol  nil  the  inieffv  they  produocintoia  worlds  or 
of  Um  poin  that  umy  be  comiiii;  in  a  world  of  wbich  llicy  cannot,  even  to  tfaenuv-lvoSr  dia- 
pmr  tV  eertuiaty.  Our  indignation  rises  th^  liigh'er  wben  tho  dtxlurlwra  of  our  pfRiro 
u^  thoM-  who,  by  eTery  solemn  obligation,  are  boutid  to  def«ud,  not  to  auoil,  the  faith. 
\jA  us  DMke  all  the  lulowauce  which  tan  pnllinte  auth  a  courav.  It  ia  t'osy  to  imaginu 
Di'n  of  candid  but  orcr-bold  ipirita  thinking  thtv  niiy  tunko  tbe  cilaidi'l  of  truth  the  saf»!r 
b>  tuttinu  off  from  it  all  outwork*  which  Beeni  indofenaiblo.  We  may  give  all  cri'Jit  fui' 
•"iohiBK-otiaiiB;  hat  there  ia  q  limit  to  iho  pnweBs.    A  Chriatiamty  with  no  prepamlwy 


dk 


174 


The  Contsinporaty  Review. 


twiligbt  of  JudiuBin,  "n'ttbout  propheciy,  untlioiit  mintcles',  witbout  on  infullilile  r«wid  of 
infipired  inith,  nithoiit  a  preMnt  PruTidencft,  wilhocil  atonement,  wilii  a  doutt  ihrown 
0^-011  on  tile  personality  ol  its  God,  may  bo  eajNible  of  dffcnfie,  but  -should  not  be  worth 
defendtTig.  And  we  mnit  reinenjlier  tlat  this  prineiplo  of  aurrcndcring  to  dcTi'iid  hoi 
been  pul  forwiu"d,  at  cill  tiDil't".  by  itosc  whusc  nets  imve  been  all  fur  Bum'ndpr  and  nuae 
for  defence.  Even  Stnuu,  the  most  diutnii-tiye  of  modem  infldeU,  plgad^  tliat  he  wua 
only  placing  n-ligion  ou  a  eiuer  baflu,  when  he  had  Btri-ren  to  mit  airar  from  it  all 
luLaiB  in  history  ov  in  tiuth." 

SvLwly  if  the  di?ma)jiJi  for  »  cWritalile  jiwlgmt-nt  m\  <itli«r»j  bo  w«U  put  for- 
ward ill  thi)  Jiiiddle  of  this  pas«ig*',  be  a  j-ust  one,then  tbf  sw^i^L-jjing  jud^pneiit 
ou  the  dis&eijiijiatioii  of  their  trfm  coiisciojittwuH  views,  whicli  ucjuciiidEs  the 
passage,  cjui  hardly  be  a  just  one  too.  lii.ws  llie  Biuhrvp  rejuily  tbHik  that 
the  eitade]  (.ij"  truth  is  th<r  K'tttT  for  having  ami  miiii]taiiun>^  iiidelViwibIc 
outwt>rks  1  t^iiirely  ]ie  Li(X«  not.  And  if  not,  it  caiiiiut  l>e  open  to  him, 
mfiuly  I'Y  putting  in  ms  &  eiilvoi,  "  tht-re  is  a  limit  to  the  procfss,''  to  appear 
to  the  iiiisiiBpcietinfj  i'ciiJlt,  iimi  lo  immr  tht  risk  uf  U'lng  4iiot(.'d,  a&  if  he 
L'ondeiuiK'd  the  itMi.'!':  pvoee*s  of  deaicilitioQ  of  iiidvfuQsible  outworts,  which 
IB  to  our  !ige  its  nppfJinted  method  ul"  proving  jdi  thinyt;,  and  holding  fast 
thiit  which  ifl  gflod.  Fur  ninrc'  nohly,  IipgausL'  luurc  boldly  and  faithfully, 
d(H!S  hf!  fijieak  wheti  lie  aiya,  s^Kuikiiig  of  the  undtsimbknesB  of  briuguig 
reli{;!iouB  (Lii^ciutfiiniiis  into  n,  court  iif  iippenl : —  ^m 

"  The  Ian'  will  naturnlly,  und  pL'rbnpi  rightly,  ttive  as  much  Lititado  ne  poasiblo  to  ^^1 
^om  of  thought,  and  V^'^a  irevAam  of  spepch.  It  n-ill,  then,  always  Xie  ditiioult  to  get  p 
couviclion  ;  and  acquilUd  ia  a  yictorj'  not  tai  tho  writer  W^Xj,  lut  fur  Lis  wridnga  and 
nentimenta-  Conviction  woiild  be  Btnrcclj'  lesa  dieaatroiis,  if  it  (unlisted  in  thtir  feTonr 
public  sjnijinlhy  as  for  n  persecuted  cause.  But  I  see  a,  greater  danger  etili.  I  itpokc 
iuat  nov  of  aiixioua  but  hnncit  miiida,  for  which  the  Cltriatian  h^nrt  c^iuot  but  fi^l 
lundnew  utd  eympalhy,  Now,  it  may  b>!  that  tu  ihvm  iiotluiii^-  n'ouM  be  bo  daageroui  m 
that,  Thile  lurking  ou  vitli  interest  at  the  cunteat  between  ffiith  and  ec«|)ti<uain,  uudmu 
lliat  faith  i^lioitld  triiiin])h,  )-et  M>'it\y  nhnken  in  tJti^tt  cotLlidcn>i:£  that  it  would  trimsph, 
tley  fhonlj  ew,  or  tliiuk  tlty  saw,  ft^e  inquiry  stifii'd,  frwdixn  pf  thought  «t(t[Qp«d  out, 
anil  tlie  pciiDltii-H  of  tbc  law  8ubiti[iiti>d  fur  the  reasoning  of  the  apoli>gist.  I  wuiild  (W 
their  «iJte»— aud  how  many  such  there  orol — laUicT  p£o  Ihu  I'aging  of  the  bMlIc-fidd 
than  the  sUonte  of  mi  enforced  peace.  And  I  suy  this,  too,  because  f  have  the  full-eal, 
deenost  truiit  in  t1iL<  truth.  I  would,  uot  cib'cglc  ittie  pruKTtss  of  ^cient^e  nor  t!ie  inquiries  of 
crJUciun,  vsit  \  fi;iu).-d  that  luHt»r}'  or  iivutloci  ehould  b«>ar  n-itiici'e  iigiuu'»t  the  Qod  of  tbs 
nationa  or  thf  Creator  of  the  luiiverefi.  In  th(W>  v<?ry  contixivi.'meB,  wlut;h  are  not  j*t 
st.lllLd.  anciiig  ufl,  I  thijik  wo  conKee  ultT.luly  that  Christ  inn  truth  bus  really  gniued  a.  firmer 
hold  iiver  lionest  th'inglitful  minds  and  conscienoes,  froni  the Twy  fact  that,  ■  when  tht  rain 
dpBcondcd  and  ilip  HhoeIs  ^.'onle,  and  thp  winds  bkw  und  bi-Bt  upoo  that  bou**,  it  feU  not, 
for  it  was  founded  on  a  Ruck.'  (Us-tt.  riii.  2^,]" 

The  Eishopis  for  learuig  iia  it  is  the  constitution  of  the  court  of  final 
ftpjN."ai  (for  eiioh  n  t;oiii-l  ht-  conct'dos  there  must  Iw),  w"itli  t!if  addition  Xa 
it  of  some  able  «ccleiiiaatii:id  lawyers  :  if  iuilcod,  us  wna  reuiniked  Inat  year 
in  CtmviKiation,  such  a  deacri[itiou  of  animal  Iw  ^xist'^iit  il"  the  i\vx% 
gBUcfation,  And  tliis  sc-^uis  t4j  be  the  view  gsiniug  ground  among 
uiddernte    ani]    priu'ticjil  men, 

Tlif  EUhop  'li'ids,  in  the  close  of  iiis  chaise,  witli  tho  two  correlative 
iuitogonistiv  niovc-nn'nts,  ritualistic  de-v^loprnout,  and  the  reviaiun  of 
the  Liturgj'.  jViid  we  aru  glad  to  ap-ee  with  him  in  his  remarks  on 
IkiLIi  theBt*.  The  bnsy  looking  up  of  niediteval  milhiitry  which  ia  now, 
with  W.I  many  of  our  clergj'',  usurping  the  plate  of  the  eares  and  studies 
to  ivhich  tla^y  have  devottd  themfielves,  miglit  be  trtiitted  as  mere  chiLdish 
niiiisvriKi',  wiTL'  it  not  that  it  'originates  in,  and  proceeds  upon,  hidden 
disUiyalty  to  tlii-  Chnnih  of  Knglnnd,  and  trejichtiry  to  her  principloa. 
Tlie  l'.'giliniate  ncopo  of  iill  stiflh  rituiilieui  ia,  the  Etehop  iimintaiDs.,  iho 
recognition  of  the  material  sacrifice  of  tho  Maes :  in  it,  in  its  gloriiicjitiim 
and  adoration,  they  all  culminate,  and  from  it  tlitiy  cuunot  lie  loj^ac^ally  dis- 


J 


Notices  of  Books.  175 

joined.  Many  of  those  who  have  been  drawn  into  the  present  movement 
ape  weak  men,  unable  to  apprehend  the  consequences  of  tlieir  actions  ;  but 
the  prime  movers  of  it  are  too  learned  and  too  able,  not  to  know  very  well 
irliat  they  are  about,  and  whither  it  is  all  tending,  Wlien  we  hear  it 
boasted  that  there  are  "  bo  many  "  churches  in  London  where  the  consecrated 
elements  are  "  reserved  for  adoration,"  we  are  in  no  way  surprised,  however 
we  may  be  saddened,  at  learning  that  logical  conseijuences  are  working 
tbemselres  out,  in  spite  of  vehement  diwivowal  from  the  novices  of  the 
party.  It  is  all  the  more  lamentable,  that  a  journal  liitherto  deemed 
tbomughly  loyal  to  the  Church  of  !Eliigland,  and  largely  read  by  the  families 
of  Churchmen  of  all  opinions,  should  have  inclined,  editorially,  to  their 
wretched  movements,  or  opened  its  corresiwndence  columns  to  the  rais- 
duerous  discussion  of  lights  and  vestments. 

On  the  revision  of  the  Liturgy,  the  Bishop  of  Ely  speaks  plainly  and 
semibly : — 

"Te  need,  no  doubt,  what  may  be  called  a  Bupplement  to  the  Prayer-book.  We  want 
lurreit  praven  and  missioa  pmyerg  and  prayers  against  murrain,  shorter  formB  for  special 
octuioni,  ijiOTt  earnest  services  for  daily  use,  and  many  like  forms,  which  may  ho  supplied 
vilhout  loaching  what  we  have  already.  So,  spiritual  cravings  might  bo  satisfied  and 
qnitnal  waata  supplied.  I  would  not  even  cut  olf  all  discussion,  if  it  were  contended  that 
nne  slight  change  of  phrase  or  modification  of  thought  might  conciliate  many  to  ua  with- 
mt  ucnfioe  of  doctrine  <a  of  principle.  Still  less  would  I  contend  against  a  revision  of  the 
XtttionaiT,  or,  if  needful,  a  review  of  rubrical  injunctions.  But  even  here  I  would  rather 
(^lain  tniui  modify.  It  is  very  hard  to  tell  what  may  follow  from  the  beginning  of 
dimge.  Former  eobrts  for  reTision  have  ended  as  their  promoters  never  contcmplatod. 
Wft  cannot  foresee  what  new  efforts  may  draw  after  thorn.  '  The  beginning  of  change  '  is 
like  the  letting  out  of  water.' 

"The  aerrice  specially  singled  out  for  review  is,  of  course,  the  Burial  3er\'ice.  It  is 
vmeoeasary  to  apwafy  the  objections  to  it,  which  are  well  known  and  obvious ;  but  the 
fificuldes  of  change  are  scarcely  less  apparent.  No  one  would,  perhaps,  wish  to  cut  away 
A*  vwda  of  hope,  where  those  words  are  suitable  ;  and  how  to  judge  when  thoy  are  not 
isitable,  and  who  the  judge  should  be,  is  a  question  easy  to  ask  but  very  hard  to  answer. 
TWe  is  a  grmt  princi^e  running  through  our  I'rayor-book,  and  seen  in  oU  our  formularies, 
wldch  very  signally  devoiopcs  itself  in  our  Burial  Service.  It  is  the  earnest,  trusting 
btli«f  of  those  who  translated  and  revised  our  service-books,  in  the  iulness  and  irceness  of 
Cod*!  lore  in  Christ.  The  undoubting  earnest  belief  expressed  in  the  Baptismal  Service 
Ibat  God  would  favourably  receive  the  infant  then  brought  to  Him — the  answer  of  tho 
dild,  when  catechized,  that  God  the  Son  had  redeemed  him,  and  the  Holy  Spirit  was 
■aetifying  him — the  prayer  in  Confirmation  to  God  as  to  One  who  had  given  to  the  candi- 
tidatn  fo^venesaofalltiieirsins — the  personal  appropriation  to  every  worshipper  of  Ood's 
■erdiea  and  loringkindneas — oU  sprang,  not  from  that  recently  invented  theory  of  a  charit- 
iUe  intttpretation,  but  from  a  thorough  and  confident  assurance  that  God  was  in  Christ, 
noonciUng  the  world  unto  Himself;  thAt  God  in  Christ  had  forgiven  us  ;  that  God  would 
We  all  men  to  be  saved ;  and  that  Hin  arms  of  mercy  wore  wide  open  to  rei^^ivo  them  all. 
This  was  the  signal  excellence  of  Luther's  theology,  and  it  was  caught  u^  and  echoed  by 
thoae  who  had  the  restoring  of  our  own  Church  from  corruption  to  punty.  And  when 
ftcy  had  to  expunge  from  our  Burial  Service  those  prayers  for  the  departed,  which  hod 
ken  turned  to  evil,  hut  which  were  naturally  comforting  to  the  bereaved  and  sorrowing. 
Act  nbatitutAd  for  them,  not  prayer,  but  ttumlugiving,  grounded  upon  the  love  of  God 
WA  the  redemption  of  mankind  by  Christ.  And  there  surely  is  great  reason  why  we,  in 
this  time  of  greater  coldness  and  weaker  love,  should  Iw  caroful  how  wo  remove  from  our 
Mrrioea  words  which  testify  of  so  bright  a  faith,  so  blessed  a  hope." 

Our  only  fear  in  the  prospect  of  additional  services  is,  lest  we  should,  by 
oor  own  cold  heartless  style,  and  lumbering  periods,  be  congealii^  and 
confiiaing  the  feelings  of  our  people,  instead  of  adding  to  them  fervency, 
and  directing  them  to  Heaven. 

We  have  noticed  this  charge  of  Bishop  Hai-oM  Browne's  at  some  length, 
as  heing  the  production  of  as  good  a  man  as  now  lives  among  us,  a  man  at 
the  same  time  of  high  purpose  and  sober  judgment.  We  hail  it  on  the 
whole  38  an  omen  for  good  :  only  hoping  that  the  amiable  writer  may  not,  as 


1 76  The  Contemporary  Review. 

time  goes  011,  fuid  the  dcadeiiiiig  influences  of  mature  Episcopate  iucompatible 
with  this  heartiness  of  religious  life  and  (for  the  most  part)  fearless  expression 
of  fi-csh  and  unreserved  opinion. 

Sestiw  ami  LiluK.  Two  Leetiu-es — I,  Of  King's  Treasuries ;  II.  Of  Queens' 
Gardens.  By  Joii:f  Ruskin,  M.A.  Second  Edition,  with  Preface. 
London  :  Smitli,  Eider,  &  Co. 

Mr.  Ruskis's  enemies  have,  generally  speaking,  little  enough  cause  to 
rejoice  when  he  writes  a  book,  provided  it  he  one  of  those  larger  works 
which  liave  set  his  name  so  high  in  modem  literature.  Nor  are  hia  op- 
ponents likely  to  derive  much  satisfaction  from  his  lectures  as  lectures  :  that 
is  to  say,  a-s  speeches  addressed  to  a  fit  audience.  But  many  of  hia  friends, 
including  onrseI\es,  must  regret  that  lie  will  turn  the  spoken  word  into  the 
word  wiitten,  mthout  careful  mitigations.  His  mind  is,  at  the  same  time,  in- 
tensely sensitive  and  logical,  and  he  is  not  so  much  possessed  of,  as  possessed 
hy,  an  unparalleled  gift  of  rapid  illustrative  ideas  and  words.  The  conse- 
quence is  that,  i>artly  in  the  hope  of  reacliing  men's  hearts  by  sheer  force  of 
stylo  thi-ough  all  their  natural  mail,  and  partly  iii  the  combative  excitement 
of  standing  up  to  a  dubious  or  insensitive  audience,  half  hostile  and  wholly 
critical,  he  says  a  great  deid  which  had  bettor  not  he  said,  still  leas  printed. 
Wliat  except  just  and  angry  defiance  is  ever  likely  to  come  of  the  statement 
that  "our  national  religion  is  only  the  perfonuanc<!  of  Church  ceremonies, 
and  preaching  of  soporific  truths  or  untmths,  to  keep  the  mob  «juietly  at 
work  while  we  amuac  ourselves)"  Does  Mr,  Ruskin  really  think  no  clergymaa 
or  Liy  t'hurehnian  ever  goes  into  a  poor  man's  house,  or  pays  for  poor  child- 
ren's schooling,  or  that  there  are  no  such  things  as  missions,  or  refuges,  or 
spread  of  Holy  ycripture  all  over  the  world  1  Why,  the  hest  means  yet 
discovered  of  Inliouring  for  the  crowded  poor  of  London  are  Church  brother- 
hoo<ls  and  colleges.  A  man  should  know  his  friends  better.  Besides,  there 
is  a  ditfereuce  between  speaking  and  writing ;  paradoxes  and  appeals  an 
allowable  in  a  3]>ecch,  which  ought  not  to  appear  in  print.  Litera  sertpta 
nuinet,  and  spoken  woi-ds  are  not  canvassed  in  the  same  way  as  writuigs. 

Tliose  wlio  know  the  ability,  kindness,  and  moderation  of  Mr.  Ruskin's 
lectures  to  working  men,  ivill  understand  that  these  two  addresses  to  an 
educjited  audience,  though  violent,  are  not  inflammatory  or  offensive, 
except  i)erhaps  tfi  clergy,  who  are  generally  considered  fair  game.  But  we 
complain  of  them  because  they  are  calciilated  to  give  so  mucli  paiu  to  his 
own  side, — to  all  who  already  know  men's  distresses,  and  are  even  now 
labouring  for  the  jKJOr.  These  will  sufter,  wliile  unfeeling  people  will  take 
easy  refuge  in  anger  at  his  violent  language.  We  do  not  complain  particu- 
larly of  his  strictures  on  tlie  Episcopal  bench  and  clergy  in  general,  because 
every  able  Avriter  of  the  jiresent  day  seems  to  find  it  necessary  to  avow  his 
entire  detestation  of  all  clerical  persons.  But  Mr,  Ruskin  might  consider  how 
many  parish  clergy  not  wholly  fools,  and  how  many  women,  tender,  active,  and 
intelhgent,  will  be  lashed  into  energetic  renmiciation  of  himself  and  all  his 
works,  because  he  will  address  to  them  eij^ually  that  full  bitterness  of  feeling 
which  the  misery  of  London  and  the  defacement  of  Lancashire  have  awak- 
ened in  lum.  Why  pour  out  all  his  vials  on  those  who  virtually  work 
with  him  ?  Ho  makes  no  exception  for  anyboily.  It  really  is  a  question 
for  all  who  preach — and  his  lectures  are  really  brilliant  lay  sermons  run  wild 
— how  far  it  is  right  to  make  those  who  do  listen  to  you  suffer  as  whipping- 
boys  for  the  neglect  of  those  who  will  not.  It  is  common  enough  to  do  so; 
and  in  many  cases  the  severities  administered  become  extremely  amusing  from 


Noiiccs  of  Books. 


177 


Uifir  mapplicabilety.  ilow  oft-en  we  luivo  heard  rpgiilar  chiireh -goers  ful- 
iiiinnted  at  for  sabbftth-breakuij;,  nml  seen  "wouieit  of  tender  couscieuce  sitting 
im-tieTitly  under  ileuuncititioiis  iiddreEsed  to  profane  swearers! 

We  miist  not  fnlliTW  this  plwisiug  tlninie,  but  ent«r  on  "  Seeame  and 
Lilies"  tJiroiigti  its  I'refaet'.  wliicU  is  simiply  cliannxng  fmm  end  t«  end.  It 
Dwiua  Ui  liavt;  l"'fii  writtjcu  hisl,  lik«  nui'st  jirefiiues :  it  13  pcrisivis  rather 
tl]au  vfln-nieHt :  in  s)it'rt,  it  is  writlvii  I'lfr  thijuttlitful  iJi^opk'  who  will  mind 
Mr.  Ruakiii,  nitht'i  than  i'T  enerjtctit  nianufaKturtrra  wlio  will  iKit  or  canntit. 
Tlim'  ap"  81'nliTu'i's  ill  it  like  fn"-"!! |i*-'d  atrttues,  ivhvR-  evt-ry  word  is  a  shiii'p 
itnikc,  nml  the  wlitile  idwi  sUtndtt  mit  at  t]j«  liist  blow,  complL-ti!  iind  (!iim[>Li- 
ralwl,  (Jno  in  jinrticaliir,  JitKiut  a  pi^e  and  a  iinart^r  hjnp,  and  ]ierl'(?rtly 
rksr  from  beginning  Ui  end,  n  fers  to  tliK  tnnnel  of  tUten  and  the  valloy  of 
Clianiouni ;  ami  the  schoolbnys'  lulniiring  destnittion  of  the  lied  of  Alpine 
tiwfs  is  beyond  coninieut.  However,  ''nho  ^qAa  was  anjjry  and  wearj'  of 
pmi?(',"*  luid  it  K-A\y  would  Beem,  liy  tli*'  beginning  of  Iiia  tirat  letturt,  11&  if 
iEr.  Kualcin  lind  liml  iiiiit*  enougb  of  it  bimsolit  and  u-anted  to  ^yml  the  tftstc 
I'f  it  fnr  otlitTs  who  canni't  help  tliinltin^  of  it  113  Dr.  .I«ibnsnn  tlinnfi'ht  uHout 
wnll-fniit,  — thnt,  nt  (ill  events,  thfry  never  yet  gnt  na  much  nf  it  as  they 
would  like. 

Xnw  -we  9rty,  ibnt  tho  \'!\'^'-s  about  trivfj  rif  praise  are  wronp  as  th^ey  nre 
rtnWl,  and  wronf*  i\a  they  am-  applied.  As  a  rule,  even  liialnipft  of  ttie 
pfwnt  lime  wiint  more  thiin  to  lie  chilled  My  L'.ihI  ;  tSiey  want  idsu  to  di  a 
4irrhiy'«  work  cVtTy  diiy  in  considi^mtion  of  tliat  title.  The  popiiliu-  com- 
jJiiinl  is,  not  that  mej]  wljn  an*  made  hishofis  do  not  desirti  in  dcselTC  thisir 
poaitim  us  hx-U  aa  Vt  bold  it,  but  that  wrong  men  (irc  scimetimea  made, 
cthy  wnng  means.  And  tliia  example  apphes  tti  thu  whole  auLject.  No' 
nuui  ivui  fndiire  praise  unless  he  deserves  iL^  iu  [lart  nt  least. 

There  is  in  fa<.^t  no  conneetinn  between  the  varioiia  parts  of  the  iirat  lec- 

ta«,  except  this  feelinj:;  in  tlio  ftntlifir's  niiiid^ — tlmt  books  are  better  than 

Dipo,  becnnsf"  they  iire  the  voivc  of  the  di'iul,  nnd  the  dead  are  better  than 

tbe  living.     And  so  the  living  geiienition   ie  flogged   iinnierL-ifnlly  for  the 

mt  of  the  lertiirt'.     ^^'e  may  notice,  that  the  preliminary  advice   about 

wcarary  in  reiuling.  ehoice  of  booka,  nnd   the  like,  ia  np  to  tJLe  atandnnl  by 

wliiph  wi<  havo  It  right  to  .judye  Mr.  Kuekiji  ;  and  that  what  he  Buys  about 

•fc'rivHti'ilia  imd  etjTtiido^des  i.s.  erpinily  (];ood,  thonyb  h(3  Jiimself,  as  well  dfi 

Duin   Trench    und    Professor  Kinysley,   liave   apoken   well   on   the  subject 

I  K-fon-.     And  as  for  hU  aecuHatinna  against  im  all,  lljey  all  centre  in  one. 

We  have  despis*d  nrl,  liremtnre,  natiiri',  and  coniiiaaaion,  all  for  i^m.     Wu 

will  not  niak*'  juiy  answer,  Iwcaus':'  it  iloes  not  become  the  men  of  a  geneni- 

l_tion  l«  6ct  forth  what  gooii  tliey  are.  tryiuR  to  do  :  and  tiur  censor's  style  is 

one  to  rail  out  either  tendemesa  ur  repentance,  or  to  make  men  espreaB 

prnlirins  they  rpally  i\>f\.      Mo:it  of  what  he  ftaya  ia  ([nite  tnie^  but  liG 

hiinUy  to  care  for  his  owtt  case,  or  t<i  Bee  that  liia  wildiiesB  and 

■wiuf  iif  statement  expose  his  works  to  sliurp  sayings  wluch  reoUy  may 

prevent  their  being  prfipt-rly  attended  to.    A  largo  iKmk  can  bide  its  time, — 

a  Miniill  one  may  buIFlt  severely  fi-om  immediate  critieisdn.     Somebody  said 

*•  SeeanuB  and  LUieB"  was  "  Avritten  in  n  sci-eauL"     Kvcr>  body  felt  what  tho 

laying  mcftnt,  and  it  reaDy  told  a^ainflt   the  book.     But  we  rerai^^mber  the 

_nittiark  of  an  old  Oxonian  on  the  critic,  "II'  that  party  hfld  ever  Wn  out 

iitnlin}r,  lift  woidd   know  that  men  generally  do  scroEmi  when  they  mean  ta 

brtinl  iu  a  erowd." 

itut  aA  t>j  the  fonr  accTiaations,     In  literature  there  is  yet  in  this  rountry 

jfttl   n'mliiij;,  an<l   eareful  writing,  and    proper  resoarcb    in    anthoritie,*. 

«?rc  U  livini;  and  growing  Art,  siieli  as  is  poesible  in  a  manufiicturiug 

■  Swrnbome,  ".^.taJMita  in  Calydon." 
TOL.   I,  S 


J  78  The  Contemporary  Review. 

country  ;  and  we  liavo  not  yet  sceu  what  art  schools,  and  galleries  open  in 
tho  evcninga,  and  excursion  trains,  may  do  to  develop  the  natural  instinct 
for  Ijeauty.  Pre-Rafaelitism,  and  its  acceptance  by  tho  people,  shows  that 
nature  is  not  altogether  despised;  and  there  is  enough  feeling  for  and 
attempt  at  charity  in  the  land,  to  make  Mr.  Kuskin's  red-printed  pages  very 
hitter  worda  indeed,  lioth  text  and  comment.  Pitiful  people  will  be  made 
more  aatl  by  tliem,  whom  God  lias  not  made  sad  ;  ordinary  people  will  he 
simply  irritated  and  puzzled.  But,  anyliow,  a  most  important  practical 
question  is  pointed  to  in  them, — the  proper  regulation  of  our  workhonsea 
All  metropolitan  mt^strates  will  bear  witness  to  the  mercil&ss  way  in  which 
certain  boartls  of  guardians  act  at  present ;  and  if  Mr.  Kuskin  would  accept 
the  testimony  of  parish  clergy,  they  would  hear  him  out  here  at  all  events. 
The  second  lecture  we  tliink  of  considerable  value  just  at  thia  time,  in 
OS  far  as  it  hoId.s  up  something  like  a  high  standard  of  nobleness  and  purity 
to  women's  thoughts,  and  suggests  to  young  ladies  a  fact  which  seems  to  he 
a  good  deal  overlooked  in  these  days,  that  they  were  bom  to  honour  rather 
than  to  dishonour,  and  that  it  is  better  on  the  whole  to  be  one  honest  man's 
"  revered  Isabel,"  tlian  a  juosi-Pel^ia  with  countless  admirers,  despised  and 
despising.  "What  is  said  too  about  women's  being  taught  some  one 
branch  of  learning  thoroughly  and  fully,  is  a  rule  for  all  education: — 
and  the  appeal  to  happy  women  at  the  last,  to  learn  and  act  for  tho 
distress  of  others,  is  one  which  has  oilcn  been  made,  but  seldom  more 
forcibly  or  delicately. 

All  Mr.  Ruskin's  works  are  well  worth  reading :  all  his  lectures  are  well 
worth  hearing :  hut  we  think  his  reputation  suffers  with  almost  the  whole 
reading  public  when  ho  prints  lectures  as  books.  To  lose  temper  or  betray 
over-excitement  is  of  all  things  tho  most  fatal  to  him  who  would  influence 
Englishmen  :  they  have  a  strange,  cruel  way  of  turning  from  the  earnest  man's 
matter  to  analyse  him  and  his  earnestness.  There  is  much  that  we  regret  in 
these  lectures  ;  but  for  all  that,  they  ought  to  bo  read,  and  read  with  patience. 


A  CommenUirij  on  the  New  TestamerU.  By  Johs  Trapp,  M.A- ;  reprinted 
from  the  Author's  last  Edition.  Edited  by  tho  Rev.  W.  Webstkb, 
M.A,  late  Follow  of  Queen's  College,  Cambridge;  Joint  "Editor  of 
AVebster  and  Wilkinson's  Greek  Testament.  (Pp.  851.)  London: 
Dickinson,  Farringdon  Street. 

It  will  hardly  be  believed  that  this  reprint  of  a  Puritan  Commentary  has 
been  edite<i  in  these  days  without  so  much  as  one  word  of  notice  rf  the 
author,  and  that  those  who  do  nut  happen  to  know  much  about  him  an 
driven  to  Biographical  Dictionaries  for  information.*     Still,  this  does  not 

•  To  each,  the  knowledge  may  not  be  imwelcome,  that  Joba.  Trapp  was  born  in  1801 ; 
■WM  a  King's  scholar  in  the  free-school  at  Worcester  ;  went  up  to  Christ  Church  ia  1618; 
•^aa  master  of  a  free-school  at  Stratf<ird-on-Avon  in  1624,  and  then  Vicar  of  Wo«Ion-on- 
Avon,  abont  two  miles  from  his  school :  both  which  offices  ho  retained  for  nearly  50  yean- 
On  tho  broakinfc  out  of  the  rebellion  he  sided  with  the  Presbyterians,  took  the  Covmuuit, 
"and,"  savB  Wood  in  the  "  Athente  Oxonienses,"  "in  his  preachioKs  and  diacoiuaw 
became  riolcnt  against  the  King,  his  cause  and  adherents,  yet  lost  nothinf{  by  so  doing, 
but  was  a  gainer  bv  it,  as  ho  was,  by  tho  publication  of  these  books  following,  token  into 
the  hands  and  admired  by  tho  Brethren,  but  by  others  not."  Uo  died  in  1669.  The  mora 
Tolumtuoua  author.  Dr.  Trapp,  known  chieliy  by  the  epigram  "  On  Glover'a  '  Leonidu* 
being  said  to  be  equal  to  Virgil," — 

"  Equal  to  Virgil  P    'T  may,  perhaps : 
But  then,  by  JoTO,  'tis  Dr.  Trapp's,"— 

^ns  gnindwn  to  our  Commentator. 


Nolices  of  Books. 


[;9 


ilftract  Fhmi  the  vsln^  of  the  book  itself.  In  tli«  Ancient  tit]*-page,  it  ia 
ileaignateJ  as  "  a  commcntiiry  or  exposition  upon  all  tlie  books  of  the  Kew 
Tcetaiaent,  wherein  the  t*;xt  is  explaijiuiJ,  souiu  LimtruvLTsii's  uru  tlisf^nssi^Ll, 
diretB  wpUEonjilitces  are  liaiiili'ucl,  jumI  iiiaiiy  ruimij'kiibk'  ijintti-Tii  Ibintf.'i], 
Ihitt  |ja«l  by  fnmier  inteqireters  lwi*n  jirct^^nnittoil,  Uesjdes,  div+^ra  other 
toll*  of  Scripture,  ivlijch  occasionally  occw,  aw  fully  ci])en«(l,  aiiil  the  whole 
w  uiti;rmLSi>d  with  [Kirtint-ot  histom-a,  as  ^■<r\\l  jiold  hoth  pkasiiro  aiiil  proHt 
Id  till'  Judicious  rtader."  AnsX  the  vikluc  of  the  book  reidly  lies  in  thtise 
last "  f»ertineut  histurit'S."  The  Cumiiif  utary  is  n  sturehouBo  of  imecdol-es  : 
ttti  niiiny  of  thn-'iu  Ijelcmii  to  the  etirrmg  times  when  the  Ijook  was  written. 
Of  Uiese,  and  of  the  <LUaint  sayinys  with  which  the  notea  nboiinJ,  we  will 
give  It  few  apecimt^DS. 

"8ena.nJi»uj  (EjiiHt,  ml  Jliu'eniin)  («Uetti  of  n  plain  countiymBn  at  Frilaurf!;  in  Germniij, 
lliit  ijing  OD  his  deuihlx^'j,  the  devil  came  in  hiin.  lu  llia  iilinpu  of  n  txili  ti'mUle  mdm,  uicl 
riwned  }m  soul,  eayiiig,  'Thou  ktat  b«cn  a.  Qulorioiia  sinnur,  and  I  om  rume  ta  scl  down 
At  nni :'  and  thi'7i.'wi!}i  he  dmw  {iiit  papor  and  ink,  nnd  Eat  Aovra  at  a  tabk  that  slooil 
ij,  liul  b^Mtt  \<t  write.  The  aick  mtia  OiiEwered,  '  My  soul  ia  tiud's,  and  bJI  Diy  xinH  an; 
BuM  b)  iLe  ert«a  of  C'hriHt,  But  if  thou  di^siro  to  w(  down  my  aini,  write  thus,  "AH 
oni  richleoTisn^gaes  are  as  n  (Uliy  nvg,  Slc."  '  The  JcatJ  BCt  dciWB  that,  Pijdl  tiid  hiiii.  sivy 
uu.  He  did :  '  But  Thou  Lord  h^at  ^iviiuBcd,  fur  thine  own  sake,  tu  blot  out  our  iiiiqiii- 
tirt,  Mid  to  TDftkfl  oui  acarkt  *ifvfl  u-hita  -a*  sdow.'  The  devil  paflwd  by  thoac  words,  juid 
*u  onuMt  iritbi  him  tn  go  on  uHtli  hin  furmer  arfpimciit.  The  niek  maa  uiiil,  with  ^vai 
thioAifatna,  ''The  Son  of  (j>yA  appeared  to  doatroy  thu  works  of  the  doril.'  A^'ith  thac  tha 
deril  vaoi^ed,  and  (he  itck  mnn  d<^|>nrU-d."— Ou  Matt,  iv.  6. 

"As  the  lapiduTy  bri^htciK'th  hi^  Liird  dlnmond  'with  The  duttt  plantt!  from  ItAclf,  js 
BImI  ■re  clear  hard  scripturi's  by  othi^ra  thut  anj  luoi-e  plain  and  Ii4rspi[:liou8."'^3tl 
M*tt.  iv.  7. 

K      Tbe  following  might  tcauh  n  h«aoii  to  Boino  in  our  own  tinit^ : — 

^L     "Muiy  or  tho  Romiih  (>m.i|P'ttiit«,  thnt  nni  tJiither  for  prur<3n»ent,  what  little  respert 

HWe  they  ofteatimes,  aad  m  tittle  totitcnt  in  thi'ir  rlmiigu !    RoHscnaLH  [qu.  ItofTmala !'] 

j^fW  a  CUuinal'a  bat  tent  him,  biit  bin  heitd  vd»  cut  olf  lj«fgro  it  came.     Allin   bad   a  ani- 

i;      diBil'a  lut,  but  with  lo  thin  lining  (uicanA,   1  memi,  to  support  bis  etste)  tbat  be  was 

nsaioaly  called   'the  marving  Conlijipl,"      Staiilft^m  wtw  made  profeesor  of  »  petty 

MCTwa&r.  Bcarce  «o  ^gnM,  ts  ono  of  our  ffUB-stlioolH  in  Gaglivni!.    Saunders  wu  ataned, 

WiIHbib  Kunbolda  vtoA  nontinftti-d  to  n  poor  vkAt-ik^-c  itndt:!'  vnliii^.    Oa  IlQi-ding  His 

HnlninOT  beetowed  a  prchcnd  of  Uiiiinl,  i>r,   to  spunk   lu'irt'  prop«rly,  ft   gaunt   prebend. 

Usny  otheni  |i;ot  nut  D-QVlhiiiig,  m  tbat  they  wish  themselves  at.  hiMnc  again :   and  sume< 

tLAWfvtvni  in  the  Biuau  difrC'ciQiUint  in  wbLcb  tbcy  went.''^On  Mutt,  iv,  8,  9. 

"Tlhiere  were  ri^ghty  opininna  among  hBathena  nhoiit  man's  blpaaedneaa.  Theso  did  htlt 
bt4t  the  hash  :   -Gfi  h:ilh  pven  ua  thi;  bird  in  this  gijlikn  sermon.'' — (Jn  Matt,  y.  3. 

"  II  ia  observud  of  Archbishop  Cranuier,  that  ho  iii-v*r  niged  so  far  with  any  of  his 
boowbold  Mmnta,  Monw  to  tiill  tb?  Djoimeat  of  lb«m  vwrlt'l.  or  kna^'u  in  dnger,  much 

^)n  to  T^nreve  &  itTai)^  with  any  ri-prtttithful  wurd :  kaet  ol'  nil  did  ht  dt-al  bluws  o-mnng 
Dvnt.  Hi  Biiihap  Bonner:  who  in  his  vtsitatLon,  tx^csufie  the  bells  t-ung  not  at  hie  i-fuuiD^ 
ntar  Usilhaiii,  nor  the  chureb  was  dressed  itp  as  it  should,  railed  Ur.  Biirltel  Imsvu  iknd 
kntic  :  uid  thcTPwJthnl,  whi>tlier  thnistiug  or  striking  ot  him,  so  it  was,  ths,t  be  (jsve  Sir 
Ibomu  Jow^lin,  ECnight  (wbo  then  stood  aQsX  to  thu  llishup),  s.  ^^ood  pltwvt  upon  tbe 
ipprr  part  of  ilvf  nefik,  even  undcf  hw  xrax:  whereat  he  wiis  wimtwhAt  D3tiinii.-d  at  the 
nldMUu-fi  iii  till*  quarrel  for  that  time.  At  Iml  hi:  spnko  and  eniil,  '  What  nii'tiuctL  your 
Msbip  ■■  Hare  you  btHtn  trained  up  in  Witl  Homrnersftacboal,  to  striki'  him  who  atandflh 
BKt  yo«  f  Tbc  Bishop,  "till  in  n  rage,  either  b^'uret  not,  or  would  not  hear.  When  Mr. 
P^kuik  would  have  cxeiwHl  him  by  his  lonj,'  impnaiinment  in  tbe  MurBbulaco,  wbervby 
I  *i «»  grown  testy,  kc,  he  replied  merrily.  '  So  it  seems,  Mr,  Feokmnn :  for  now  that  be 
!        bMew  fortii  of  the  Mv^iUaea  he  is  ready  to  fjo  to  Bedlam.'  " — On  Matt,  v.  2^. 

"Within"tbe  'memorr  of  man,  Feb.  H,  L67j5,  Ann  Averiea  fDrswor*  liarseif  nt  s 
4wp  in  Woo^l  Street,  Loudon,  and  prayiu)^  Gg<l  Hha  might  bisk  whu-Tti  »be  atooJ  if 
^  and  not  pnid  for  the  wares  sho  t<K)k,  ifiU  don'a  siieechless,  and  with  a  horribln  Blink 
4isd  Men  aftrr.  "~Un  Matt.  V.  33. 

"SfasU  the  urest  Uoose-kecTMjr  of  the  world  water  bis  flowers,  pmne  bis  plante,  fodder 
ii>i<«ttl(,  and  n't}!  feed  his  cbildreu  P    Xever  think  it." — On  Miitt.  vi.  2'i. 

"The  2i»d  c«ntnrii>n  wns  no-t  a  batter  man  tlitin  master,  Ha  wns  that  rtnowncd  Sir 
TIlitnnM  I-Hfy.  if  Chnrlecott,  in  Warwickshire,  to  whosp  singular  commendation  it  was  \a 
«ifl»  hcmup  jinracbeJ  at  his  funeral,  and  is  iinw  sinL-e  publislied,  by  my  muidi  Imnoiired 
(ripnd  Mr.  iC4)t>«a  Ubini?,  titat  [mmong  mimy  DtUci'j  thnl would  dcinrly  miu  LIiu}  a  buuac- 


The  Contemporary  Reiiew. 


I  So 


fnl  of  serviuitB  bod  lost  not  ft  raostrr  but  a.  pbysicun,  wli6  ^skA%  tbeir  Aicktiesa  liii,  Uiil 

lii«  c'>staijii  pbyaiG  ihiiLrB." — On  Matt.  viii.  6. 

"  Wlien  the  Duke  of  Buiir'boo''a  eapluliia  hail  shut  up  Pope  Clement  VIII,  [Vo  .■  liul  it 
wnB  Clonifiil  Vir.]  in  tha  Cofllte  St.  Angels,  CjrdinoJ  "Wolaey  being  shortly  after  aeut 
HtniiTiMHilor  bryond  iwag  ti  make  Tnenns  for  his  ruleaae,  as  he  came  throiigli  Canterbiuy 
towurJ  Dover,  he  oommanileil  thu  monttt  luiii  the  rhuir  to  Hing  (be  I.ititny  after  thla  sort, 
*  f^inKit  JlarM,  era  pro  Fifia  tuvtro  Cieii'mU-,'  UimBcIf  also,  beiug  preiMut,  vas  &peu  tu 
wcej)  teaiJerly  for  the  I'oiiL-'a  culiunit)-."— Dn  Matt.  ii.  16. 

^umetiinoa  we  liaVLi  a.  sliix-wd  Llioiiylit :  luiil  not  uiifrequently  a  Htninge 
iVDFilj  unknown  ti)  uur  English  tlictiuuiirjes  : — 

"  Yt  repfnfed  net  afUrtcardt. — No,  ncrt  nfter  hie  death,  though  ye  sa-w  Me  lUfpcnturinled* 
to  him,  Olid  pri'iirluiig  nuii  pT«sing  the  pamp  ihtiigs  iiiwii  you  ihitt  Juhn  did.  Aa  hypo- 
crite comes  hnnlliiir  tit  fauown  lliaii  u  vxa^i  tsinniL-r,  and  linlh  far  more  nbata^lcs.  A^  hi? 
thnt  miut  be  stripped  ia  nut  bu  mioh  iloihcd  ns  hc  ihut  ii  naked,  iLQd  M  ho  cliiabs  not  a  tree 
MiKxiii  th»t  niu^t  lirat  cunie  davm  from  the  top  of  another  ti'ee  where  he  ia  perched,  M  ll  it 
here."^ — iia  Matt,  iii    3i 

''  £f'Gry  man  hnth  a  dcioiealieiLl  chaplfllu  within  hia  own  bosom,  tLnt  preucfaiL'th  over  tbfl 
sermon  to  him  Acain,  and  coiucs  over  him  with  'Thou  itrt  tho  man.'  " — On  Matrt.  %xi.  ii. 

"Jcmnueit  de  I'eiuporibus,  who  iw  aaid  to  have  lived  ia  Franc*  above  thret  hundred 
xearii,  died  at  length:  bo  did  the  old,  old,  the  very  old  man,  a.d,  1635."t— On  Malt, 
iiii.  27. 

"  Judf^e  Morgan,  who  Kove  the  senteucQ  of  that  pccrlcM  I.jiily  Janc'H  death,  prce^utly 
iVU  mod :  aad  in  ail  hb  dJiitracti^d  fitH,  tricA  uut  HOtitinuaUy, '  ToJie  away  the  Lady  Jftoo^ 
Idlie  owaT  tlio  Lndv  Jniio  fi-om  dip."*^Uii  Matt.  ixvi.  24. 

"  A  young  schotnr  rending  publicly  tho  fifth  of  the  first  of  Coriathiiins  fur  probation 
wto,  HI  the  CoUego  of  Bamberg:,  wht-n  he  emnetothatpasange. '£.rjjj(r(fftrrprfw/cjT»imWflf,' 
&c,  '  ti'mt  etfia  uzymi,'  he  nut  iindcrslaDdin^  the  word  tisi/Mi,  lead,  'fii'M'  Mti*  Mini.' 
The  wiscT  sort  of  prebtniiarics  llierc  jiresent  Mid  among  then iBt Ives,  '  L'lim  a  nipitntiorilmt 
iiuluiiiiia  hiijinmodi  audirt,  a  putru  aiidirt  tvgiinui:'  Children,  and  fooU  uaunlty  tdl  tho 
iruih."— ^^r)  Mntt,  Tmiii.  18. 

"  Huilolpltua  (iiialther  beinR  in  OsfnnJ.  and  tcholdinift  Chria.1  Churuh  College,  wid, 
'  E^rtffiiim  afi'H !  Ca'tlhialii  isle  innlituil  caik^iiim,  rl  <i!>»o!ii[  jKijiiriaiti'  A  pretty  busiiuaaj 
A  rollej^e  U:||pin,  and  a  kitchen  fuuiidcd." — Uu  Luku  xix.  'IS. 

"  H'n*  itrif  aCirtclirt  lo  fiiar  Aim. — Gr.,  hanged  on  ]Iiiii,  as  the  bee  (SoTh  on  the  floirer, 
Ihe  babe  on  the  hrtaijt,  the  little  bird  on  the  bill  of  her  dnin.  Chriat  drcvi'  the  lA'opt?  nCler 
Him,  as  it  were^  hy  the  golden  n-hoiii  cfhis  h*-aTen!T  tkqueDee."— On  Like  iLx.  48. 

"  Every  eioreist  must  not  think  to  do  na  I'aul  did,  nor  every  preacher  aa  LHtiuii-T  did. 
'  He  hud  HIT  fiddlv  and  my  sti'ck,'  said  h?  of  WQ  that  proiu.'licd  hu  sermons,  '  but  be  wnatod 
my  ream."  —On  Acta  lix,  16. 

Kufh  arti  n  few  sjietimena  of  tlie  stores  of  an«<;i-!olt'S  anil  original  remarks 
to  be  fimnd  in.  ihls  curious  Commcntftrj.  Ae  an  vTipUmitiun  of  JScriiptuw,  it 
is  of  little  YftlwEj.  It  Uikt'n  no  account  of  coottxt,  und  very  little  of  tlio 
relative  iniportaace  of  tlio  sayiii^s  011  which  tho  uot(i«  are  hung.  The  wfJter 
soE^ins  tti  seek  rather  opportunity  fur  mttkin^  b  point  in  rhetoric,  tlian  f^r 
fetaWishing  a  point  in  tlieDkigy,  antl  carPS  more  to  dis]<lay  his  varied 
ttiading,  than  to  Ihcilltiitv  the  reiLiliug  of  ^cripturu.  Ills  fiivouiite  poiiret)  of 
ant-ctlote  is  Foxg's  "Ants  iiiiij  Mrtuiuiienta."  He  is  modemtuly  well  vereed 
in  the  elassiL's  and  in  tin-  Ltdin  Fathui^  :  tind  of  the  Gi'ui^li,  seems  chiefly  to 
hiive  studied  ChryBOstom.  We  vvin  Mr.  Wuhstei'  our  thaiiks  for  having 
made  a  rarB  bwok, of  .sr>  rauph  intt^rcet,  acct'S^ible  to  lis;  tut  those  Lh^nka 
W'cuild  hiLvu  heen  niorr  hi'tirtily  given,  had  ho  taken  n  little  ]iaius  to  collect 
ittfoimation  about  tlie  niitliur. 

•  To  *r(f<rnfiin'i\{e  \a  \tnnthttitiite  far  anoifirr.  The  furcetitiiriali -Kere  men  kejit  in  Ttamrrb 
fir  the  purpoao  of  suppJjing  tho  place  of  ihoae  soldiers,  in  tho  rpnturia  vho  happciiied  t)j 
foil  in  hiitlli-,  01  (liv  othemisv,  Wv  havs  noted  fieveral  ethi^r  pondurons  Ijitiniams  ;  pltr- 
sttimvt,  p.  167:  txmvis,  p.  463;  a^.'ucnnimrto/>,  p.  4tU  :  borboralaij^,  p.  ojV.  Ia  |i.  £9 
wc  read,  "All  was  jolly  ijuict  at  Kphesus  bEforr;  St.  I'aul  came  thithtl-;"  a  form  of  BpeecJi 
which  we  hai-dlj-  upccted  to  find  in  ihu  ujventeenth  cenliin^. 

+  Kespti'tinR  Rno  of  the  tiro  very  aged  meii.  hert  mtnliuned,  .JoiiiinMi  do  Temporiblif,  wfl 
read  iu  t|ie  ''  Fn«'itu]u9  Tempunim  '"  of  lioIc-wun:k,  printt-d  lu  the  awond  voluma  of  tlia 
*'  Creniinnici  Striplorea,"  undor  the  yp*r  IIM,  "  Joaimfc*dc  Toniporihua  niijritu)*,  qui  vijicnt 
iTcUi.  annifl.  Fuit  enim  onuiger  Caroli,  et  usquo  ad  hoc  temporo.  d-araiTt"  fke  othcc 
WBJ  old  ?arT. 


Noikes  of  Books. 


zSi 


Lctttrs.  Tratislak-il  by  Lady  Walla*^  2  vuls,  Lomlun  :  Longmans. 
To  open  tlnsic  VLiUiniea  is  like  i>j>c-nmg  a  painterl  touib.  "VV©  are  Jiur- 
iiiimde*!  by  peoplu  luny  dead, — we  rtaitl  thw  oiicu  ianiiliur  iiiLiiiea  for^jotteii 
HfiW, — We  look  curiously  «t  the  busy  yvery-dsj  llii*  of  a  ceutiiry  ago, — we 
almost  catcli  t!ie  riii5;iii}{  l.iiigb  and  the  !!!Ounil  of  voices, — tbR  colpiira  are  all 
frwJi,  tbe  ligurea  are  all  liistinct, — let  ue  select  ont  ^rtiup.  Thtre  is  Leopold 
Mi)iart,  tlie  father,  ivitli  bia  oM  thieadbare  cmt,  and  oaken  stick,  a  God- 
fi'iring,  sensible,  but  eoiHuwIiiit  iitiirow-mmdpd  man  ;  Lis  wile — -the  very 
mwiel  of  a  thrifty  lioiisewife.  Tiiere  ia  pretty  little  Naiierl,  now  about 
filfcen,  who  •'  looks  like  an  luigt-l  in  lit^r  new  elutlits,"  and  pliiya  the  clavier 
111  tbi:  «8tiiiush.iiifnt  »f  lifrr  V'Uii  Sl51k,  tliu  titiipid  loviT,  and  the  other 
(flurt  oiusieiiins  who  fHii|_nt!nt  the  worthy  Ciipfdlnn-'ister's*  house  iit  Kalsi^burg. 
Tlww  18  Bimberl  thu  Uop,  who  gets  &o  many  kL'^wjH,  and  tlui  catuiry  that 
lings  ill  {if;  ftitil  lost  there  is  the  gloriuuH  boy  Wollgauj;  Aniiiik'na 
Moart,  now  about  thirteen,  Lii  hta  little  puce-hruwn  c^oat,  velvet  huae, 
W'tltMl  shoes,  and  long  Hovi'ing  tnrly  hair,  tierl  liehiiid  after  the  I'aahioii 
yf  till!  duy.  lie  has  already  vieited  Fam^  Ijondou,  and  Kitme,  and  is  no 
ittu  £imouB  for  upronrious  merriment  than  for  music.  At  the  age  of  four 
k  wrote  tuneSf  at  twolve  he  cituhl  not  find  his  equal  on  tlie  harpaiiihoid, 
and  the  pmfi'38orfl  of  Eiirutie  etood  agJiast  at  one  who  inipro^'ised  fuyin* 
M  B  given  thoniu  and  tlien  touk  a  ride  nofk-ii-horse  ou  his  tather'a  eticlL 

The  fiist  two  Bt«ti"na  of  I^'tterB,  which  caiT)'  ua  np  to  his  twenty-second 

ymr,  reanh  from  llfttf  to  177fi,  and  are  fiat*;d  variously  from  Vc^rona,  Mikn, 

Rome,  Bologna,  and  Venice.    "VVe  have  also  an  account  of  a  profesaional  tour 

in  (leruiany  with  his  mother,  in  the    frultlesii  ACiirch   flft«r  some  settled 

RinpIcij-TnaimL     He  seems  to  havt  met  with  luAby  friendfl,  much  praise,  some 

jiAiciuay,  but  so  little  money  that  he  charged  only  four  ilutata  for  twelve 

IflMons,  and  c-oulil  Wl-ito  to  Martini,  the  old  Italian  Xestor  of  luOiiic,  ""We 

in  a  country  "where  inu^ic  has  very  little  eu^eeBB."      Meanwhile,  ha 

eicelleut  spirits,    and   langha  at  I'verything   and   everybody — at  the 

tic  friar,   who  ate  ho    enomiouely — fit  NnneFl's  loror,  poor  Herr  vou 

il^iik,  whimpering  behind  hie  pocket-handkerchiiif— at  the  liolin  profeseor, 

who  waa  always  saying,  *'  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  am  out  again,"  and  was 

■Iwsjit   gomoted    by  Moaart's   invariable   reply,    "It  doesn't   in  the  k>ast 

Bignify ;" — at  the  Itahan  ainger  who  had  "  iivu  nnjijcd  voce  e  earita  semjtre 

about  a  qoartj-r  of  a  nnt«  U^o/urr^ii  n  iro/^po  u  huim  nnt  /"     Contnisted  with 

thcK  lighter  monda,  it  i.^  striking  to  olwervo  a  deep  uuderhme  of  seriousness, 

u  wWn  he  asBuria  Iiih  father  i>f  his  n.'t(ularity  at  ConfessioUj  and  exclaims, 

**  I  have  idwnys  luid  l!"ii  liefni'e  my  eyeis.     Friends  who  have  no  religion 

cannot  long  Iw  my  fricndu  ;"  '■  1  have  sueh  a  aense  of  religion  that  I  ahidl 

never  do  anything  that  I  wmihl  mit  dn  lycforo  the  whole  world  :"  and  we 

_  recp(?oifle  the  loving,  nnajjuiled  heart  of  a  boy  in  the  young  man'w  worda, 

iB^ncxt  to  Gsxl  tomes  pajin."     'Iliis  period  was  mark*Hi  by  the  eompoaition  of 

'the  greater  iiumlxT  of  hia  ludsses,  laost  of  which  were  written  boforu  hia 

twenty-third  year. 

Little  of  hiamiLsic  between  the  years  1778^81  ig  now  extant.    Theyeara 

778  and  1779,  which  he^pent  in  Paria,  were  pfnbably  the  most  uncongennd 

hia  life.    He  found  the  people  cohtsc  and  intriguing,  the  muBidansBtnjiid 

d  intnicCable,  the  nobles  poor  and  stiiigj-,  tho  woinftU  unconversuhle  and 

Tlie  whole  tone  of  tho  Fi«ucli  mind  disjiieased  hun.     "The  nn- 

ih-vilkiit  Voltairo  has  died  hke  a  dog,"  he  ^vrites.     But  upon  the 

I  miiaie  hi:  potii-s  all  the  vials  of  bis  wmth.     '^llte  French  are,  and 

lUways  will  \te,  downright   doiiki-j's.*'     "They  cannot   sing,  they  acream." 

•^  The  devil  liimself  invented  t-beir  lanj^itage,"     Ju   1779,  he  came  back  to 

I  iiimumy,  resolved  to  abwuion  tor  ever  both  thy  Frenth  and  Italian  styles, 


TJie  Contemporary  Retnnv. 


and  devote  himself  to  the  cultivation  of  a  real  Cwnnna  opera  BckooL  Hiq 
"IdomoRfD"  ^^"t^s  tlie  ftcstlruits,  It  was  proda[:ed  at  Muniuh.  for  the  car- 
nival of  1780 — a  diite  for  ever  meraomble  ia  th'C  aniuils  of  musi<;  oa  the 
diLWii  of  tliia  groat  ickssical  jKiriod  '\a  Moeart's  liiatory.  From  1781  to 
1782,  all  his  k'tters  are  Jatod  fpoai  Vienna,  where  he  iinallj'  settled  d<>wu. 
Money  ia  RtiU  Boarce.  '*I  have  only  one  email  room,"  he  wiitts:  "it  is 
quil-e  craiiimf-Hl  with  a  piano,  a  table,  a  hed,  auii  a  cheat  of  drawers;"  hut, 
coniViiiKxl  with  hie  idiuost  auat«re  poverty,  we  notice  the  same  ^eguL^ritT 
in  his  religious  duties,  the  same  purity  in  his  pnvatt!  life — of  thia,  such  letteis 
Ba  Vol.  U.,  No.  ISO — 182,  atfonl  the  strnngcHt  tircuinstantial  eWdence.  In 
1781  his  Kaaons  for  marrj'iug,  thoiigh  quaintly  put,  are  quite  imanawemhle 
— viz.,  hecauai?  he  had  no  one  to  take  aire  of  his  lint'ii — -Ijecaiiae  ht' 
could  not  Uve  like  the  dissolute  young  men  around  hiru  ;  and  kstly,  hecauee 
he  was  in  love  with  <".'onBt(inr,e  VVt^tier.  Thu  marriage  tonic  plate  in  1782, 
Mozart  being  tlifu  S'fi,  and  his  htide  tS.  Tliic  same  year  wituosfled  ihe  pro- 
duetion  of  "  II  Seraglio,"  and  shortly  afterwards  wc  find  him  dining  pU-iUBUitly 
with  the  Tet*rau  composer  OlUi?k,  who,  although  of  quite  anotlu-T  schoril,  aud 
in  si^imo  eenee  a  rivi^l,  was  always  cordial  in  his  praises  of  Momrt.  So 
thoroughly  indetd  had  tha  spirit  of  the  now  niu»ic  begun  to  revolutioniee  the 
public  mind,  that  popular  Italian  eom]>osets  cuyayed  Muzart  U)  write  aiioa  fac-  , 
tliem,  in  Order  to  bisure  the  siicteSft  of  thisir  operas.  ,  (|^H 

The  nwt  of  Moiait's  life  can  be  compared  to  nothing  but  a  torch  huming"' 
<nit  rapidly  tn  the  winrL  Unwearied  alike  as  a  eomjiotwr  and  an  artist,  he 
kept  ]ii.>uri]ig  forth  symphonies,  Bonatiis,  ami  njteras,  whilst  diaejise  could  not 
shake  his  nervw  as  an  e.Yfciitsuil,  and  the  tJBUd  of  denth  found  him  unwilling 
to  reUpquLih  the  [n;n  of  thy  rwuly  writer,  In  April,  1783,  wo  find  him 
playing  at  no  kisa  than  twMiity  concert*'.  'n»;  year  1785  is  iiiaTke<l  by  the 
six  (lehibrated  tiuartetts  (h^dioitLiJ  to  Haydn.  "  I  decLuo  to  yow,"  excJoimed 
the  old  mini,  upon  hearing  them,  to  Mozart'a  father,  "hel'ore  GtHi  and  on  tho 
faith  of  an  honest  man,  that  your  son  is  the  greatest  t^omposer  who  ever  Uviah" 
In  1786  "  Figaro"  waa  produeoil  j  and  in  1787  *'  Don  (Jiovanni ""  M'os  written 
for  his  favouj'itc  puldii;  atPmgite.  It  will  hawlly  bt  believed  that  idl  this  time 
MoKurt  waa  lu  thegToateHl  want  of  money,  Hiaworka  weremiaeriLbly  paid  for. 
He  viaiteil  Berlin,  Dresden,  and  Leipaie  to  recruit  his  fortunea  :  the  nnhlea 
gave  him  watehea  and  snull'-boxes,  hut  very  Uttln  coin,  and  in  1790  wo 
find  Sloaiit,  at  the  zenith  of  hia  fiime  and  popularity,  standing  diniierka* 
and  "in  a  sUtc  of  destitution,"  at  the  door  of  hie  old  friend  Puchljci^, 
It  ifl  tUtBcuIt  to  account  fur  thiis,  as  he  certainly  made  more  money  than 
many  muRiciana.  His  piirso,  indeeil,  was  nlwaya  open  to  his  friemls  ;  he 
WB.^  oliligLrd  to  mix  on  equal  terms  with  his  superiors  in  rank  ;:  he  had  an 
invalid  wife,  for  whom  ho  procumd  every  comfort.  Thero  must  indeed  Isavn 
been  bad  management,  hut  we  can  ewircoly  i-cud  his  lettew  and  accuse  htm  of 
wanton  extravagance. 

In  1791  he  entered  upon  hia  thirty-sixth  and  ItLst  year.  Into  it, 
amongat  other  works,  were  crowiled  "  I.^  Clemenia  di  Tito,"  "  II  ykut« 
Magico,"  and  the  KtqiiieuL  His  frienda  looked  upon  hia  wondfous 
Career,  as  we  liave  since  looked  upon  filendcdasohna,  with  a  certain  aad  and 
bewildering  ostonislimeut.  That  prod.iyious  cliildhood— — that  spring  melloW 
with  all  the  fniits  of  aLilouin — that  atartling  hasti^  "as  the  rapid  of  lifu 
shotitis  to  the  lall" — wu  understand  it  nov^^  "The  world  had  waited  ^ight 
centuries  for  him,  and  Jie  was  only  to  reiiuun  fw  a  moment"  ( Oiilihi<:hi-ff).  In 
the  Uctob*!r  of  17111  he  ctosij^  ft  letter  to  his  wifB  with  the  wor>!s  from 
"  Zauberflote,"  "The  hour  strikCiS.  Farewell!  \  we  shall  meet  again  !"  These 
a.i'e  tile  last  wTitt^u  words  of  Mozart  extant. 

His  wife  Tutiimed  Ixom  Latlun  somewhat  invigorated  hy  the  waters,  but 


Noiices  of  Books. 


183 


I 
I 


noticed  witii  alurm  a  prJIor  raoro  fatal  than  her  own  iijion  hiir  huaTjamr.-i 
His  passionate  love  for  her  neTBr  wnnod,  but  lie  hail  grown  Bilont  ami 
meholy.  Ho  would  constantly  Tenuim  writing  at  tlie  R{><^iiiera  lony 
nfler  his  dinner-hour.  Neither  fuligue  nor  hmiger  uteaied  to  roiiee  bini 
his  profound  conlemplatiou.  At  night  he  woiilA  sit  hpoodltig  over  the 
until  he  Hot  iinfrequc-'titly  SWOoHed  aWay  in  hid  <;hmr.  The  luysLcriciiis 
'•jtpiiritinn  of  the  stmnii^er  in  black,  who  riiJmcj  tn  Miwiirt  iilitl  gaVo  the  (tr'3<!t 
t'ftr  the  Roquipm,  htis  bepii  resolved  into  the  valet  nf  a  nobleman  wlio  wished 
U>  prr"s»<rve  hia  iwro'jiiito,  hut  it  douhtI>*a3  ailded  to  the  sum br&  melancholy 
"f  a  mind  already  sinking  and  over-wronght.  Onu  mild  autumn  iiioniiny 
his  wife  dro^'w  him  out  in  an  open  iiarriagt  to  some  ntdghbourijig  woods.  As 
li*  lirwitht'd  tlie  soft  air,  scented  with  the  yeUow  leaves  that  lay  thickly 
MwMTt  iiroimd,  he  discovered  to  her  the  secret  of  the  Roriuten).  "  I  am 
writing  it,"  ho  saitl,  "for  myaelf."  A  few  days  of  flftttoring  hope  followed, 
anil  tliea  Mci£3rt  was  carried  to  thi3  bed  IJ^oiu  wlueh  he  was  never  destined 
to  nji&  Vieunu  wofi  at  that  time  ringing  with  the  fume  of  lii^  last  opera. 
They  brought  him  the  rich  ap^Kiintiuent  of  organist  to  the  (.'athcdtul  of  St. 
Stephen,  f-irwhirli  ho  had  bu'vn  longing  all  hia  life.  Miinagwra  bi'sieged  his 
Jofii  with  handful-i  "i  yidd,  ^itutmoning  hiai  to  conipoae  something  for  them 
— Iwj  late  I  He  lay  wiUi  swiilleii  limljn  ami  humrn^  Iieiid  awaiting  aiiuther 
Riiainons.  On  the  nighl  uf  DwemlKT  5,  1V91,  his  wifis,  hijr  siat^r,  Hophiu 
Wvlier,  and  his  friend  Susmeyur  were  \r3ti1  Idrn.  The  scurtt  of  the  Kefptiem 
lay  open  upuu  his  Iwd,  As  the  last  fiLintn-Esa  atctlo  ovur  luin,  he  turned  U> 
HiitanfytT — hin  lips  moved  feebly — hd  waa  trjdng  to  iniUcato  a  pecuhw 
effect  of  kftth'-drunis  in  the  stortt.  It  was  the  laat  act  of  expiring  thought ; 
hia  b^ad  sank  gently  hfick  ;  he  seemed  to  Ml  into  a  dc«p  and  tranquil  alwp. 
Id  anoUier  hour  he  had  ceased  to  breathe. 

On  a  stormy  December  moraing,  through  the  dcscited  sttcets  of  Vifcrma, 
woidst  anoW  and  hail,  and  unaccompanied  by  a  single  frienii,  the  hoily  of 
Muatt  Woa  haatdy  borne,  with  fifteen  others,  to  the  common  burial-ground 
o(th«  poor.  In  1808,  wime  foreiyners,  piL^fng  throitgh  tlie  town,  wished 
to  visit  the  grave ;  but  they  were  told  that  the  a^hi-M  uf  the  poor  were 
lr«(Uently  exhumed  to  make  room  for  otiiers,  niiil  no  atonu  then  ii^maiiiMd 
lo  Biaflt  the  spirt  where  omce  had  restfd  thrj  boily  of  Jeam  OurysohtoME 
WolPoanO   Ahadeds  Mozart. 

TliMe  lettera  in  gi-e;(t  meiisure  supply  the  want  of  matorial  notieealtls 
inevi-ry  biography  of  Mozart  between  the  ycara  1785-&f),  and  are  further 
Tiltiabl«  aa  correcting  eeveral  hasty  and  Ui-iidvised  statcnientu  in  the  other- 
Ti»e  learned  and  elaborate  narruttve  uf  Jr.  Oiilihichell',  aaeh  a-s,  that  Mozart 
W  a  paseion.  for  tr8\'elling,  when  he  dtudan'fl  that  hu  euiild  never  sleup  in 
biarvniage^  and  hated  being  from  home — or  that  hn  waa  fond  of  wine  and 
'miwn,  when  through  out  his  life  he  wiis  scoffed  at  for  being  chaste  and 
«ber — or  that  he  was  extravagant,  when  he  continually  aont  large  sums  to 
Ml  lather,  wore  the  coarsest  linon,  and  devoted  oveiythiug  elao  to  the  toui- 
foitof  nu  invalid  wifu^or  that  his  talents  were  not  recogniecH.!  at  Vienna, 
ThfiB  many  of  Ids  most  aucee.'wfui  eoneerta  wi-re  given — or  that  "  Figaro  " 
*■;!•  received  coldly  then?,  when  he  writiw,  "Then.*  wiire  seven  entiores,"  &c. 
"f  the  l-ranslatiun  we  have  little  to  ^\.j ;  it  ia  not  superior  lo  that  of 
jJ-'udidssolLn's  Lett^^rs  hy  the  same  hand,  and  voiy  inferior  to  some  real 
tnufUtioDS  from  Schumann  which  hav«  lately  appeared  in  the  Shillin'j 
il'tytjiifir.  When  will  translatom  ham  to  hold  thi3  balaneo  lietween 
punpliiaae  and  litemlbm  !  We  arc  willing,  however,  to  forgive  itiuoh  to 
tlie  lonng  labour  of  one  who  hue  opcnod  to  the  English  public  thesu 
OKniorials  of  the  gi^ut^t  compoaer  that  the  last,  or  perhapa  any  century 
has  yet  prodncecL 


1 84 


The  Conicniporary  Review. 


Jr-gtt6    T'ltipUd    in    ihe    Wildpnum :    Th:    C^mihat — Tfin  Wmpoae  —  The_ 
Vietorij.     By  Adolphe  Monoi>.     (Pp.   121.)     Lomloti :  Nlabet. 

Those  "who  know  the  valm  raliLmce,  the  holy  fervour,  the  afTisL-tionat^ 
yeariimg,  ot  the  Uuncnted  Admlphe  Moiiod'n  religious  works,  ivill  iicd  lie  siir- 
]irifli!d  at  our  very  hrartily  n^iMsnuiH-mling  this  littk;  vuhiiiiG.  Its  ':(>uU';iiti 
were  first  delivered  as  lectures  at  Moulaiilniu,  iu  the  cluiiiel  of  the  Faculte, 
ami  then  iia  aeniiwna  lit  Paris.  The  coniinentary  on  <itu-  LtessfMl  Lonl'a 
tPTUjitation  brings  out,  iiutl  dwells  on,  the  points  comiimniy  itkaiflle*!  on,  hut 
witli  A  siinpk',  liitherly  gentleness  ivliiili  wiuti  the  hearty  and  with  much 
aptnrsB  nf  iUuatratinn,  eharact^urized  liy  that  niiifomi  I'onectneas  of  taate 
whieli  distin^ishes  nil  the  writinga  of  the  author.  We  cannot  forbear 
giving  n  Siinifde  or  two,  to  iuiUice  our  readers  to  eujoy  the  whole, 

ffc/y  f^eripturt  us  a  Wfopott  Bgarmt  TemptnSfim. — "For  tie  word  of  God  to  liave  tbewne 

fiwcr  in  otir  hand  that  it  had  in  that  of  J'Bbus,  it  muKt  bo  for  lie  all  tbat  it  yta&  for  Him. 
luiow  notlin^  in  nil  tiie  history  of  humanity,  nor  m  the  ticld  of  Divini'  revi^lnLJon,  that 
BpeBJu  more  cloarty  than  my  tt'Xt  in  favour  of  ilio  inepinitiou  of  the  Scriplurps.  Wh«t  ? 
The  Sou  of  0<jil,  '3m  that  »  iii  tb.e  Ikiepcu  of  tliu  FaihiT,  luid  who  i^outil  bu  cuil^  fitiil 
eutfif  L(!UC  etrou^  in  ntm«<.'lf,  nreffra  bonowini;  it  from  n  booh  that  lie  liruls  in  our  hntnls. 
and  dravra  hit,  httx-Uif'h  from  tho  flaint>  SOul-i'e  tLnt  [from  which  Y]  a  Jo^hiiQ,  a  Snmiii'l.  n 
David  dri'w  tlDcira  I  What:-  Jeiiis  Chriat,  the.  Kinp  of  heaven  and  eorth,  call!"  (o  hia  HJd 
in  this  solemn  nioniotit  Ptoses  tig  eervant ;  and  Ui^  that  Epeqketl)  itwi  hcnvcn  stTcngt  bpiia 
Himself  against  ihn  IcmptntioiiBi  of  bdl  by  the  word  of  him  that  speakcCh  of  tlie  i^rlh! 
And  ho-w  con  wo  uxplniii  thia  wandcrfu,!  myalury, — shall  I  call  it '! — or  this  sfMnije  «ubTer- 
sion,  if  the  wnrd  of  Moses  Wpn.-  not  for  Jtssii  the  word  of  frod,  and  not  ns  Iha  wurd  of 
men,  nnd  if  He  wore  not  fulh"  ppraniidmi  that  holy  lueii  of  old  itpake  ru  tlifv  wer*  moveJ 
by  thp  Ilid^'  (Jhcat  f  I  am  not  imrniiniilUt.  mv  ycmng  fri'i;nds  (I  nm  6ppiikiii«  specially  l« 
young:  mtnutt^ra  of  the  word]— I  am  not  imiuindful  of  \'htt  nbjGL^CionG  (o  wliii^h  the  inspim- 
tioa  of  the  Scri-iitiires  hjis  giTt'ti  ri»e,  nor  of  Iho  real  obscurity  that  surrounds  if;  if  it 
«naaiisnei  triiiible»  your  brcnat,  if  hns  ai»o  tiijubli'd  mine.  Siit  at  such  times  I  have  otAj 
had  to  coet  a  looli  at  Jt^sue  glorifying  tho  tS'cHpIurca  in  the  wildcmesa,  and  I  havi^  fnmid 
that,  for  thusu  who  will  suiipLr  ri'coiro  hie  testimony,  the  nio^t  Fuibamii^iiig  of  probletiu 
is  thente  formed  into  n  pnljiftblo  hiati-iricnl  fatt,  perlBctly  BTident."' 

f'mirltuling  Arliicr  (o  CnudiiiiittJi  Jnr  ih'  Mi'iitlii/. — "  And  you, nij'fiitiiro fellow -Inboiirer*, 
I  will  not  i|>i)t  this  subjei.-:  wilbout  giving  you  n  ajicciol  cKhgrtnlion  that  I  i^^ommiend  to 
your  mast  VBrious  atl<Miti«ii.  Tht  templaUon  of  JeflUB  ia  pbur«l  lietw-cen  the  end  of  hii 
|Kil»oual  pf(<piirAtlOii  and  the  eoinmOncttneilt  of  his  public  life.  Then?  ia  for  you  a  ■imilU' 
time;  tho  intcr\'al  botwtwn  the  end  of  your  atiidit's  and  the  beginning  of  your  mioistry. 
Tilke  care  of  thia  inttTval ;  it  ma}'  intliienpe  the  reiaailid'^r  of  J'oiif  minis It'rjal  ctmvr. 
Cevotc  it  to  0.  Epiritual  retrcnt ;  ipcnd  it  with  Jesus,  ngmlatiiig  in  bis  aolitude ;  and  whon 
yo«eiit*r  the  Chnirh,  lot  it  be  a*  a  man  roming  out  fT urn  iht  wihlPinfst — fuiui  theirOder- 
□ess,  nnd  not  from  the  world :  if  you  nro  full  of  recoUct lions  of  the  world,  if  you  haTB 
been  inhaling  the  corrupt  atuosphere  of  iU  ^iinltieH  and  pleaautee,  you  am  not  fit  for  tha 
service  of  JcauB  Christ.  From  Iho  iv-ildemcea,  and  not  mjm  NiuKnlh:  if  you  are  mid^ 
tbo  dominion  of  family  nffcctions,  if  yoii  pl&co  on  tb«  first  line  in  the  choice  of  a  place  » 
father  or  a  mother,  a  wife  oi-  a  child,  you  ure  not  £1  for  tbc  aenrice  of  JeauB  Christ.  From 
the  wildemi'M,  and  not  from,  the  iwadt-my  :  if  you  aio  still  coTrn?d  with  the  dual  of  deep 
^udy,  if  your  fuith  and  your  knowledj^o  com@  merolv  from  books,  you  are  not  G-t  for  th9 
serncQ  of  Jueiis  CLdst,  Jcaua  Christ  miint  hiive  atiwanits  weaned  u-om  the  world,  bve  of 
creoture  engagcmcnto,  nourished  by  the  tcachjne  of  the  Holy  tjhost.  Bo  men  of  tha 
wildemMa,  Or  be  not  tntQ  of  the  Chiilch.     Amen,' 

We  are  sorry  to  note  blemishes^  but  some  have  crept  in  either  through 
fitult  of  the  tranalator,  or  through  cflrelessneeB  of  the  printer.  In  p.  23, 
tho  words,  "My  eon,  if  thon  cnnn^  to  serve  tho  Lord,  prepare  thy  hwiTt 
for  tj?iDptahion,"  ate  ipioted  as  l'ri)ni  "  the  Ix^ginning  of  the  swond  cliaiitwr  of 
Errk'sinsleB  (tic),  one  "f  thu  apocryphal  hook* ;"  Eceh^aiastiVjJs  of  Mlirse 
hftiuig  tneiiiit^  And  in  a  not*5,  p.  79,  a  qtiotittiun  (Vuni  IltHigel  is  given  ns 
from  "  a  letter  from  BengaL"  There  are  ti:io,  occasional  trips  in.  Englidi 
gmiumar,.one  example  nf  which  is  noted  in  the  lirst  passdjfe  which  we  have  ex- 
tpacteiL     In  a  second  edition,  we  hoi»ii  that  these  blemishes  may  disappear. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  THE  CONDITIONED: 

SIE  WILLIAM   HAMILTON  AND  JOHN   STUAET  MILL. 
PAKT  II. 


An  ExamiaalioH  tff  Sir  William  HamUbM't  mietaphg,  and  >tf  tk- 
prineipal  Philoiopkicat  Quntioiu  dUnuieJ  i»  hit  JVriliitgi.  Bj 
JoBJf  Stuabt  Mill.    Loodon,  isec. 

'PHE  former  part  of  our  remarks  on  Mr.  Mill's  "  Examination  of  Sir 
J-  William  Hamilton's  Philosophy  "  concluded  with  the  statement 
tUt,  with  r^ard  to  the  three  fundamental  doctrines  of  Hamilton's 
philosophy — the  Relativity  of  Knowledge,  the  incognisabUity  of  the 
Absolute  and  Infinite,  and  the  distinctiou  between  Keason  and  faith — 
Mr.  Mill  had,  throughout  his  criticism,  altogether  missed  the  meaning 
of  the  theories  he  was  attempting  to  assaii  Tliis  statement  we  must 
now  proceed  to  prove,  witli  reference  to  each  of  the  above  doctrines  in 
succession.     First,  then,  of  the  relativity  of  knowledge. 

The  assertion  that  all  our  knowledge  is  relative, — in  other  words, 
tiiat  we  know  things  only  under  such  conditions  as  the  laws  of  our 
cognitive  faculties  impose  upon  us, — is  a  statement  which  looks  at 
first  s^ht  lite  a  truism,  but  which  really  contains  an  answer  to  a 
very  important  question. — Have  we  reason  to  believe  that  the  law.s 
of  our  cognitive  faculties  impose  any  conditions  at  all  ? — that  the 
mind  in  any  way  reacts  on  the  objects  affecting  it,  so  as  to  produce  a 
result  different  from  that  which  would  be  produced  were  it  merely  a 
passive  recipient  ?  "  The  mind  of  man,"  says  Bacon,  "  ia  far  from 
the  nature  of  a  clear  and  equal  glass,  wherein  the  beams  of  things 
shall  reflect  according  to  their  true  incidence ;  nay,  it  ia  rather  like 

VOL.    L  0 


1 86  The  Contemporary  Review. 

ill!  enchanted  glass,  full  of  superstition  and  impostuze,  if  it  be  not 
delivered  and  reduced."  Can  ^\-hat  Bacon  says  of  t^e  fallacies  of  the 
mind  be  also  said  of  its  proper  cognitions  ?  Does  the  mind,  by  its 
own  action,  in  any  way  distoit  the  appearance  of  the  things  presented 
to  it ;  and  if  so,  how  far  does  the  distortion  extend,  and  in  what 
manner  is  it  to  be  rectified  ?  To  trace  the  course  of  this  inqnby 
from  the  day  when  Plato  compareil  the  objects  perceived  by  the 
senses  to  the  shadows  thrown  by  fire  on  the  wall  of  a  cave,  to  tiie 
day  when  Kant  declared  that  we  know  only  phenomena,  not  things 
in  themselves,  would  be  to  write  the  history  of  philosophy.  We  can 
only  at  present  call  attention  to  one  movement  in  that  history,  which 
was,  in  effect,  a  revolution  in  philosophy.  The  older  philoaophera  in 
general  distinguished  between  the  senses  and  the  intellect,  regardlDg 
the  former  as  deceptive  and  concerned  witli  phenomena  alone,  the  lattei 
as  trustworthy  and  conversant  with  the  realities  of  things.  Hence 
arose  the  distinction  between  the  sensible  and  the  intelligible  world — 
l>etween  things  as  perceived  by  sense  and  things  as  apprehended  bj 
intellect — between  Phenomenology  and  Ontology.  Kant  rejected 
this  distinction,  holding  that  the  intellect,  as  well  as  the  sense 
imposes  its  own  forms  on  the  things  presented  to  it,  and  is  there- 
fore cognisant  only  of  phenomena,  not  of  things  in  themselves.  Tht 
Ic^cal  result  of  this  position  would  be  the  abolition  of  ontology  as  a 
science  of  thii^  in  themselves,  and,  d  fortiori,  of  that  highest  brand) 
of  ontology  which  aims  at  a  knowledge  of  the  Absolute*  icaT*  t^o^^K 
of  the  tinconditioiied  first  principle  of  all  things.  If  the  mind,  in 
every  act  of  thought,  imposes  its  own  forms  on  its  objects,  to  think 
is  to  condition,  and  the  unconditioned  is  the  imthinkable.  Sacb 
was  the  logical  result  of  Kant's  principles,  but  not  the  actual  result 
For  Kant,  by  distinguishing  between  the  Understanding  and  tlie 
Reason,  anil  giving  to  the  latter  an  indirect  yet  positive  cognition  ol 
the  Unconditioned  as  a  regulative  principle  of  thought,  prepared  tiie 
way  for  the  systems  of  Schelling  and  Hegel,  in  which  this  indirect 
cognition  is  converted  into  a  tlirect  one,  by  investing  the  reason,  thna 
distinguished  as  the  special  faculty  of  the  unconditioned,  with  a 
power  of  intuition  emancipated  from  the  conditions  of  space  and  time, 
and  even  of  subject  and  object,  or  a  power  of  thought  emancipated 
from  the  laws  of  identity  and  contradiction. 

The  theory  of  Hamilton  is  a  modification  of  that  of  Kant,  intended 
to  oljviate  these  consequences,  and  to  relieve  the  Kantian  doctrine 

*  Tfaetemi«iMitif«,  uithewnBeof/rM/idnir«b/(OM,  may  be  u«ed  in  two  <ipplio>tion» ;— 
lat,  to  denote  the  nature  of  a  thing  u  it  is  in  itself^  a«  distinguished  IVom  ita  ^tpewia 
to  UB.  Hera  it  is  used  only  in  a  subordinate  acnse,  as  meaning  out  of  relation  to  hnmai 
Imowlcdge.  Sndly,  To  denote  the  nature  of  a  thing  as  independent  of  all  other  tluoga,  b 
Imving  no  relation  to  any  other  thing  as  the  condition  of  its  existence.  Here  it  ia  used  h 
its  highest  sense,  as  meaning  out  of  relation  to  anything  else. 


The  Philosophy  of  the  Conditioned.  187 

itself  from  the  inconsistency  which  gave  rise  to  them.     So  long  as  the 
reason  is  regarded  as  a  separate  faculty  from  the  understanding,  and 
things  in  themselves  as  ideas  of  the  reason,  so  long  the  apparent 
contradictions,  which  encmnher  the  attempt  to  conceive  the  uncon- 
ditioned, must  be  regarded  as  inherent  in  the  constitution  of  the 
reason  itself,  and  as  tlie  result  of  its  legitimate  exercise  on  its  proper 
objects.     This  sceptical  conclusion  Hamilton  endeavoured  to  avoid  by 
rejecting  the  distinction  between  the  understanding  and  the  reason  as 
separate  faculties,  regardiiig  the  one  as  the  legitimate  and  positive, 
flie  other  as  the  illegitimate  and  negative,  exercise  of  one  and  tlie 
same  facxJty.     He  thus  announces,  in  opposition  to  Kant,  the  funda- 
mental doctrine   of  the  Conditioned,   as   "  the  distinction  lietween 
intelligence  itritkin  its  legitimate  sphere  of  operation,  impeccable,  and 
intelligence  heymid  that  sphere,  affording  (by  abuse)  the  occasions  of 
error."*    Hamilton,  like  Kant,  maintained  that  all  our  cognitions  are. 
compounded  of  two  elements,  one  contributed  by  the  object  known, 
and  the  other  by  the  mind  knowing.     But  the  very  conception  of  a 
relation  implies  the  existence  of  things  to  be  related ;  and  the  know- 
ledge of  an  object,  as  in  relation  to  our  mind,  necessarily  implies  its 
existence  out  of  that  relation.     But  as  so  existing,  it  is  unknown :  we 
Iwlieve  that  it  is  ;  we  know  not  what  it  is.     How  far  it  resembles,  or 
iww  far  it  does  not  resemble,  the  object  apprehended  by  us,  we  cannot 
«y,  for  we  have  no  means  of  comparing  the  two  together.     Instead, 
Uierefore,  of  saying  with  Kant,  that  reason  is  subject  to  an  ine^'itable 
delosion,  by  which  it  mistakes  the  regidative  principles  of  its  own 
thoughts  for  the  representations  of  real  things,  Hamilton  would  say 
that  the  reason,  while  compelled  to  believe  in  the  existence  of  these 
real  things,  is  not  legitimately  entitled  to  make  any  positive  repre- 
MJtation  of  them  as  of  such  or  such  a  nature ;  and  that  the  contm- 
dictions  into  which  it  falls  when  attempting  to  do  so  are  due  to  an 
illegitimate  attempt  to  transcend  the  proper  boundaries  of  positive 
tfaonght. 

TMs  theory  does  not,  in  itself,  contain  any  .statement  of  the  mode  in 
which  we  perceive  the  material  world,  whether  directly  by  presenta- 
tiwi,  or  indirectly  by  representative  images ;  and  jierliaps  it  mighty 
withoat  any  great  violence,  l>e  a^lapted  to  more  than  one  of  the 
cnircnt  hypotheses  on  this  point.  But  that  to  which  it  most  easily 
tdjoBts  itself  is  that  maintained  by  Hamilton  himself  under  the  name 
of  Natural  Realism.  To  speak  of  perception  as  a  trlnfion  between 
Blind  and  matter,  naturally  implies  the  pi-esence  of  lioth  correlatives ; 
tboo^  each  may  be  modified  by  its  contact  with  the  other.  Tlie 
Kid  may  act  on  the  alkali,  and  the  alkali  on  the  acid,  in  forming  the 
MBtral  salt;  but  each  of  the  ingredients  is  as  tndy  pjesent  as  the 
•  "  DwcoadoM,"  p.  633. 


1 88  The  Contempormy  Review. 

other,  though  each  enters  into  the  compound  in  a  modified  form.  And 
this  is  equally  tlie  case  in  perception,  even  if  we  suppose  various  media 
to  inteirene  between  the  ultimate  object  and  the  perceiviug  inind, — 
such,  c.  g.,  as  the  raj's  of  light  and  the  sensitive  organism  in  vision, — 
so  long  as  tliese  media  are  material,  like  the  ultimate  object  itself. 
"Wliether  the  object,  properly  so  called,  in  vision,  be  the  rays  of  light 
in  contact  with  the  organ,  or  the  body  emitting  or  reflecting  those  rays, 
is  indifferent  to  the  present  question,  so  long  as  a  material  object  ol 
8()me  kind  or  other  is  supposed  to  be  perceived,  and  not  merely  an 
immaterial  representation  of  such  an  object.  To  speak  of  our  percep- 
tions as  mere  modifications  of  mind  produced  by  an  unknown  cause, 
would  be  like  maintaining  that  the  acid  is  modified  by  the  influence 
of  the  alkali  without  entering  into  combination  with  it.  Such  a  view 
might  perhaps  be  tolerated,  in  connection  with  the  theory  of  relativity, 
by  an  indulgent  interpretation  of  language,  but  it  is  certainly  not  that 
which  the  language  of  the  theory  most  naturally  suggests. 

All  this  Mr.  Mill  entirely  misapprehends.  He  quotes  a  passage 
from  Hamilton's  Lectures,  in  which  the  above  theoiy  of  Relativity  is 
clearly  stated  as  the  mean  between  the  extremes  of  Idealism  and 
Materialism,  and  then  proceeds  to  comment  as  follows : — 

*'  Tlie  proposition,  that  our  cognitions  of  objects  are  only  in  part  depend- 
ent on  the  objects  themselves,  and  in  part  on  elements  superadded  by  our 
Cleans  or  our  miuds,  is  not  identical,  nor  prima  facie  absurd.  It  cannot, 
however,  warrant  the  assertion  that  all  our  knowledge,  but  only  that  the 
imrt  so  added,  is  relative.  If  oiu*  author  had  gone  as  &r  as  Kant,  and 
Lad  ftaid  that  all  which  constitutes  knowledge  is  put  in  by  the  mind  itself 
he  would  have  really  hold,  in  onu  of  its  forms,  the  doctrine  of  the  relativity 
of  our  knowledge,  lint  what  he  does  say,  far  from  implying  that  the  whole 
of  our  knowledge  is  relative,  distinctly  import*  that  all  of  it  which  is  real 
and  authentic  is  the  reverse.  If  any  part  of  what  we  fancy  that  we  perceive  in 
the  objects  themselves,  originates  in  the  perceiving  oigans  or  in  the  cognising 
mind,  thus  much  is  purely  relative ;  but  since,  by  supposition,  it  does  not  all 
80  originate,  the  part  that  does  not  is  as  uiucli  absolute  as  if  it  were  not 
liable  to  be  mixed  up  with  tliesc  delusive  subjective  imprcssiona" — (P.  30.) 

Mr.  Mill,  theivfore,  supjiuscs  that  wholhj  relative  must  mean  wholly 
mental ;  in  other  words,  that  to  .say  that  a  thing  is  wholly  due  to  a 
relation  between  mind  and  matter  is  equivalent  to  saying  that  it  is 
wholly  due  to  mind  alone.  On  the  contrary,  we  maintain  that  Sir 
W.  Hamilton's  language  is  far  more  accurate  than  Mr.  Mill's,  and  that 
the  above  theory  can  with  perfect  correctness  be  described  aa  one  ot 
total  relativity ;  and  this  from  two  points  of  view,  first,  as  opposed 
to  the  theory  of  partial  relativity  generally  held  by  the  pre-Kantian 
philosophers,  accorduig  to  which  oxu-  sensitive  cognitions  ai-e  relative 
our  intellectual  ones  absolute.  Secondly,  as  asserting  that  the  object 
of  perception,  though  composed  of  elements  partly  material,  partli 
mental,  yet  exhibits  both  alike  in  a  form  modified  by  their  relation  tc 


Ttu  Philosophy  of  tlie  Conditioned.  1 89 

each  other.  The  composition  is  not  a  mere  mechanical  juxtaposition, 
in  which  each  part,  though  acting  on  the  otlier,  retains  its  own 
characteristics  unchanged.  It  may  be  rather  likened  to  a  chemical 
fusion,  in  which  both  elements  are  present,  but  each  of  tliem  is 
affected  by  the  composition.  The  material  part,  therefore,  is  not  "  as 
much  absolute  as  if  it  were  not  liable  to  be  mixed  up  with  subjective 
impressions." 
But  we  must  hear  the  continuation  of  Mr.  Mill's  criticism : — 

"The  admixture  of  the  relative  element  not  only  does  not  take  away  tlia 
absolute  character  of  the  remainder,  but  does  not  even  (if  our  author  is 
right)  prevent  as  from  recognising  it.  The  confusion,  according  to  him,  is 
not  inextricable.  It  is  for  us  to  '  analyse  and  distinguiah  what  elements '  in 
in '  act  of  knowledge  '  are  contributed  by  the  object,  and  wliat  by  our  organs, 
or  hy  the  mind.  We  may  neglect  to  do  this,  and  as  far  as  the  mind's  share 
is  concerned,  we  can  only  do  it  by  the  helj)  of  jilulosophy  ;  but  it  is  a  task  to 
which,  in  liis  opinion,  philosophy  is  equaL  By  thus  stripping  ofiF  such  of 
the  elements  in  our  apparent  cognitions  of  things  as  am  but  cognitions  of 
something  in  ua,  and  consequently  relative,  we  may  succeed  in  imcovering 
the  pure  nucleus,  the  direct  intuitions  of  things  in  themstilves  ;  as  we  correct 
tb  observed  positions  of  the  heavenly  bodies  hy  allowing  for  the  error  duo 
to  the  refracting  influence  of  the  atmospheric  medium,  an  influence  which 
does  not  alter  the  facts,  but  only  our  perception  of  them."  *^ 

Surely  Mr.  Mill  here  demands  much  more  of  philosophy  than  Sir 
W.  Hamilton  deems  it  capable  of  accomplishing.  AVhy  may  not 
Hamilton,  like  Kant,  distinguish  between  the  pennanent  and  neces- 
SM}-,  and  the  variable  and  contingent — in  other  words,  between  the 
nibjective  and  the  objective  elements  of  consciousness,  without  there- 
lore  obtaining  a  "  direct  iutuition  of  things  in  themselves  "  ?  Why 
may  he  not  distinguish  between  space  and  time  as  tlie  forms  of  our 
sensitive  cognitions,  and  the  things  perceived  in  space  and  time, 
which  constitute  the  matter  of  the  same  cognitions,  without  thereby 
having  an  intuition,  on  the  one  hand,  of  pure  space  and  time  with 
iKrthing  in  them,  or  on  the  other,  of  things  in  themselves  out  of  space 
and  time  ?  If  certain  elements  are  always  present  in  perception, 
while  certain  others  change  with  every  act,  I  may  surely  infer  that 
the  one  is  due  to  the  pennanent  subject,  the  other  to  the  variable 
object,  without  thereby  knowing  what  each  would  be  if  it  could  be 
(iiscemed  apart  from  the  other.  "  A  direct  intuition  of  things  in  them- 
sdves,"  according  to  Kant  and  Hamilton,  is  an  intuition  of  things 
Mt  of  space  aqd  time.  Does  Mr.  Mill  suppose  that  any  natural 
Sealist  professes  to  have  such  an  intuition  ? 

The  same  error  of  supposing  that  a  doctrine  of  relativity  is  neces- 
sarily a  doctrine  of  idealism,  that  "  matter  known  only  in  relation  to 
ns"  can  mean  nothing  more  than  "matter  known  only  through  the 
mental  impressions  of  which  it  is  the  unknown  cause,"*  runs  through 
*  The  MnuDptlon  that  thew  two  ezpressionB  are  or  ought  to  be  aynBiiyniouB  is  tacitly 


I  go  The  Conkmporaiy  Review. 

tlie  whole  ul"  Mr.  Mill's  argument  against  this  jwrtion  of  Sir  W. 
Hamilton's  teacliiiig.  Tliat  argument,  though  repeated  in  various 
fonns,  may  be  briefly  summed  up  in  one  thesis ;  namely,  that  the 
doctrine  tliat  our  knowledge  of  matter  is  wholly  relative  is  incom- 
patible with  the  distinction,  which  Hamilt<)n  expressly  makes, 
between  the  pnmary  and  secondary  qualities  of  body. 

Tlie  most  curious  circumstance  about  this  criticism  is,  that,  if  not 
lirectly  borrowed  from,  it  lias  at  least  been  carefully  anticijmted  by, 
lamilton  himself.  Of  tJie  distinction  between  primary  and  secondary 
qualities,  as  acknowledged  by  Descaites  aud  Locke,  whose  theorj-  of 
external  perception  is  identical  with  that  which  Mr.  Mill  would  force 
ou  Hamilton  himself,  Hamilton  says:  "On  the  general  doctrine, 
however,  of  these  philosophei's,  both  classes  of  iiualities,  as  known,  ai-e 
confessedly  only  states  of  our  own  minds ;  and  while  we  have  no 
right  from  a  subjective  aff'ection  to  infer  the  existence,  far  less  the 
oori-espondiug  character  of  the  existence,  of  any  objective  reality,  it  is 
evident  that  their  doctrine,  if  fairly  evoh'ed,  would  result  in  a  dog- 
matic or  in  a  .sceptical  negation  of  tlie  primary  no  less  than  of  the 
secondary  qualities  of  body,  as  more  than  appearances  in  and  for  us."* 
It  is  astonisliing  that  Mr.  Mill,  wlio  pounces  eagerly  on  every  imagin- 
able Instance  of  Hamilton's  inconsistency,  should  have  neglected  to 
notice  this,  which,  if  his  critirisin  be  true,  is  the  most  glaring  incon- 
sistency of  all. 

But  Hamilton  continues  :  "  It  is  thei-efui-e  manifest  that  the  funda- 
mental position  of  a  consistent  theory  of  dvialistic  i-ealism  is — that 
our  cognitions  of  filxtension  and  its  modes  are  not  wholly  ideal — that 
altlioiigh  Space  be  a  native,  necessary,  k  priori  form  of  imagination, 
and  so  far,  therel'orc,  a  mere  subjective  state,  that  there  is,  at  the  same 
time,  competent  tn  ns,  in  an  ivinifdiatc  perception  of  extenial  things, 
the  eoTisdvimicHx  of  a  really  existent,  of  a  really  objective,  extended- 
world."  Here  we  have  enunciated  in  one  breath,  first  the  subjectivity 
of  space,  which  is  the  logical  basis  of  the  relative  theory  of  perception ; 
and   secondly,   the  objectivity  of  tlie  extended   world,  which  is  tlie 


made  by  ^Ir.  Mill  at  the  opening  of  this  chapter.  IIg  oi>eaB  it  with  a  pusag?  from  the 
"  Discussions,"  ia  which  Uamiltoti  says  that  the  existence  of  t/iiiiff»  in  themtelm  is  onlf 
tndirt'ctly  rovealed  to  us  "through  certain  qualities  related  to  our  faeuUiet  of  knowledge  ;" 
and  thon  proceeds  to  shew  that  the  author  did  not  hold  the  doetrine  which  these  phrues 
"  seem  to  convey  in  the  only  suhstantial  meaning  capable  of  being  attached  to  them ; " 
namely,  "  that  we  know  nothing  of  objcett  except  their  existence,  and  the  impreasioiu 
produced  hy  them  upon  the  human  mind."  Ilaviug  thus  quietly  assumed  that  "  things 
in  themBclveB  "  are  identical  with  "objects,"  and  "  relations  "  with  "  impresaions  on  the 
homan  mind,"  Mr.  MiJl  bases  his  whole  criticism  on  this  tacit  pelitio  principU.  He  is  not 
aware  that  though  Eeid  sometimes  uses  the  tenn  relative  in  this  inaccurate  sense,  Hamilton 
expressly  points  out  the  inaccuracy  and  explains  the  proper  sense. — (See  Keid's  Works, 
pp.  313,  322.)  •  Eeids  Works,  p.  840. 


The  Philosophy  of  the  Conditioned,  1 9 1 

logical  basis  of  the  distinction  between  primary  and  secondary 
qualities.  It  is  mantfest,  therefore,  that  Hamilton  had  uot,  as  Mr.  Mill 
supposes,  ceased  to  hold  the  cue  theory  when  he  adopted  the  other.* 

The  key  to  all  this  is  not  difficult  to  find.  It  is  simply  that  objective 
uiiitnce  does  not  mean  existence  per  sc ;  and  that  a  pketunneium  does 
not  mean  a  mere  mode  of  mind.  Objective  existence  is  existence  as 
an  ^ed,  in  perception,  and  therefore  in  relation ;  and  a  phenomenon 
may  be  material,  as  well  as  mental.  The  thing  per  se  may  be  only  the 
unknown  cause  of  what  we  directly  know;  but  what  we  directly 
know  is  something  more  than  our  own  sensations.  In  other  words, 
the  phenomenal  effect  is  material  as  well  as  the  cause,  and  is,  indeed, 
that  from  which  our  primary  conceptions  of  matter  are  derived. 
Matter  does  not  cease  to  be  matter  when  modified  by  its  contact  with 
mind,  as  iron  does  not  cease  to  be  iron  when  smelted  and  forged.  A 
horaeshoe  is  something  very  different  from  a  piece  of  iron  ore ;  and  a 
man  may  be  acquainted  with  the  former  without  ever  having  seen 
the  latter,  or  knowing  what  it  is  like.  But  woidd  Mr.  Mill  therefore 
say  that  the  horseshoe  is  merely  a  subjective  affection  of  the  skill  of 
the  smith — that  it  is  not  iron  modified  by  the  workman,  but  tlie 
workman  or  his  art  impressed  by  iron  ? 

If,  indeed,  Hamilton  had  said  witli  I.x>cke,  that  the  primary  qualities 
are  in  the  bodies  themselves,  whether  we  perceive  them  or  no,^  he 
Tould  have  laid  himself  open  to  Mr.  Mill's  criticism.  But  he 
expressly  rejects  this  statement,  and  contrasts  it  with  tlie  more 
eantious  language  of  Descai-tes,  "ut  sunt,  vel  saltern  esse  possxmt."* 
The  secondary  qualities  are  mere  affections  of  consciousness,  wlucli 
cannot  be  conceived  as  existing  except  in  a  conscious  subject.  Tlie 
primary  qualities  are  qualities  of  body,  as  perceived  in  relation  to 
the  percipient  mind,  i.  e.,  of  the  phenomenal  body  perceived  as  iu 
space.  How  far  they  exist  in  the  real  body  out  of  relation  to  us, 
Hamilton  does  not  attempt  to  deeide.§     They  are  inseparable  from 

•  See  "  Ezuuiiution,"  p.  28.  f  Eaaaj  ii.  8,  $  23. 

X  Beid'a  Works,  p.  839. 

i  yfo  hftve  been  conteit  to  argne  this  questioii,  as  Mr.  Kill  himBelf  argues  it,  on  the 
wtfuiition  tlutt  Sir  W.  Hamilton  held  that  we  are  directly  percipient  of  primary  qualities 
m  eitenul  bodies.  Strictly  speaking,  however,  Hamilton  held  that  the  primary  qualities 
■R  immediately  porceiTed  only  in  our  organism  as  extended,  and  inferred  to  exist  in  extra- 
erganic  bodies.  The  exteraol  world  is  immpdiately  apprehended  only  in  its  secundo-primarj' 
dancter,  as  resisting  our  locomotive  energy.  But  as  the  organism,  in  this  theor}',  is  a 
■■teiial  mon-ego  equally  with  the  rest  of  matter,  and  ag  to  press  this  distinction  would  only 
■fcrt  flte  verbal  accuracy,  not  tlie  substantial  j  ustice,  of  Ur.  Mill's  criticisms,  we  have  pre- 
feried  to  meet  him  on  the  ground  he  has  himself  chosen.  The  same  error,  of  supposing 
Aat " preaeotationism "  is  identical  with  " noumeualism,"  and  "phenomenalism"  with 
"lepresentationinn,"  nma  Uirough  the  whole  of  Mr.  Stirling's  recent  criticism  of  Hamilton's 
tkeoiy  of  perception.  It  is  curious,  however,  that  the  very  passage  ("Lectures,"  i.,  p.  Ii6) 
vhich  Mr.  Mill  cites  as  proving  that  Hamilton,  in  spite  of  bis  professed  phenomenalism, 
ns  in  imcooscious  noumenalist,  is  employed  by  Mr.  Stirling  to  prove  that,  in  spite  of  hia 


192  The  Contemporary  Review. 

our  conception  of  botly,  which  is  derived  exclusively  from  the 
phenomenon ;  they  may  or  may  not  be  separable  from  the  thing  as  it 
is  in  itself. 

Under  this  explanation,  it  is  manifest  that  the  doctrine,  that  matter 
as  a  subject  or  substratum  of  attributes  is  xmknown  and  unknowable, 
is  totally  different  from  that  of  cosraothetic  idealism,  with  which 
Mr.  Mill  confounds  it;*  and  that  a  philosopher  may  without  incon- 
sistency accept  the  former  and  reject  the  latter.  The  former,  while  it 
holds  the  material  substance  to  be  unknown,  does  not  deny  that  some 
of  the  attributes  of  matter  are  [jerceived  immediately  as  material, 
though,  it  may  be,  modifled  by  contact  with  mind.  The  latter  main- 
tains that  the  attributes,  as  well  as  the  substance,  are  not  perceived 
immediately  as  material,  but  mediately  tlirough  the  intervention  of 
immaterial  representatives.  It  is  also  manifest  that,  in  answer  to 
Mr.  Mill's  question,  which  of  Hamilton's  two  "  cardinal  doctrines," 
Kelativity  or  Natural  Itealism,  "  is  to  be  taken  iu  a  non-natural 
sense, "-f-  we  must  say,  neither.  The  two  doctrines  are  quite  compatible 
with  each  other,  and  neither  requires  a  non-natural  interpretation  to 
reconcile  it  to  its  coiiipanion. 

The  doctrine  of  relativity  derives  its  cliief  pmctical  value  from  its 
connection  with  the  next  great  doctrine  of  Hamilton's  philosophy,  the 
incognisabdity  of  the  Absolute  and  the  Infinite.  For  this  doctrine 
brings  Ontology  into  contact  with  Theology;  and  it  is  only  in  relation 
to  theology  tliat  ontology  acquires  a  practical  importance.  With 
respect  to  the  other  two  "  ideas  of  the  pnre  reason,"  as  Kant  caUs 
them,  the  human  .«oul  and  the  world,  the  question,  whether  we 
know  them  as  realities  or  as  plienomenii,  may  assist  us  iu  dealing  with 
certain  metaphysical  difficulties,  but  nee(l  not  affect  our  practical 
conduct.  For  we  have  an  inmiediate  intuition  of  the  attributes  of 
mind  and  matter,  at  least  iis  phenomenal  objects,  and  by  these  in- 
tuitions may  be  tested  the  accuracy  of  the  conceptions  derived  from 
them,  sufficiently  for  all  practical  pnrpfises.  A  man  will  equally 
avoid  walking  over  a  precipice,  and  is  logically  as  consistent  in  avoid- 
ing it,  whether  he  regard  the  precipice  as  a  reak  thing,  or  as  a  mere 
phenomenon.  But  in  the  province  of  theology  this  is  not  the  case. 
We  have  no  immediate  intuition  of  the  Divine  attributes,  even  as 
phenomena ;  we  only  infer  their  existence  and  nature  from  certain 
similar  attributes  of  which  we  are  immediately  conscious  in  ourselves. 
And  hence  arises  the  question,  How  far  does  the  similarity  extend,  and 
to  what  extent  is  the  accuracy  of  our  conceptions  guaranteed  by  the 


professed  precentadonism,  he  was  on  unconscious  ropreoentationist  The  two  criticB  tik 
at  Hamilton  from  opposite  quarters:  he  has  only  to  stand  aside  and  let  them  run  agaiut 
each  other. 

*  "Examination,"  p.  23.  t  "Examination,"  p.  20. 


The  Philosophy  of  the  Conditioned.  1 93 

intuition,  not  of  the  object  to  be  conceived,  but  of  somethiug  more  or 
less  nearly  resembling  it  ?  But  this  is  not  alL  Our  knowledge  of 
God,  originally  derived  from  personal  consciouaneaa,  receives  accession 
from  two  other  sources, — from  the  external  world,  as  His  work ;  and 
from  revelation,  as  His  word;  and  the  conclusions  derived  from 
each  have  to  be  compared  together.  Should  any  discrepancy  arise 
between  them,  are  we  at  once  warranted  in  rejecting  one  chiss  of  con- 
dnaions  in  favour  of  the  other  two,  or  two  in  favour  of  the  third  ?  or 
are  we  at  liberty  to  say  that  our  knowledge  in  i-espect  of  all  alike  is 
of  such  an  imperfect  and  indirect  character  that  we  are  warranted  in 
believing  that  some  reconciliation  may  exist,  though  our  ignorance 
prevents  ua  from  discovering  what  it  is  ?  Here  at  least  is  a  practical 
question  of  the  very  highest  importance.  In  the  early  part  of  nur 
previous  remarks,  we  have  endeavoured  to  shew  how  this  question  has 
been  answered  by  orthodox  theologians  of  various  ages,  and  how  Sir 
W.  Hamilton's  philosophy  suppoits  that  answer.  We  have  now  to 
cwisider  Mr.  Mill's  chapter  of  criticisms. 

It  is  always  unfortunate  to  make  a  stumble  on  the  threshold ;  and 

Mr.  Mill's  opening  paragraph  makes  two.     "  The  name  of  God,"  he 

says,  "is  veiled  imder  two  extremely  abstract  phrases,  'the  Infinite 

and  the  Absolute.'    .     .     ,     But  it  is  one  of  the  most  unquestionable 

of  all  logical  maxims,  that  tlie  meaning  of  the  abstract  must  be  sought 

in  the  concrete,  and  not  conversely."* — Now,  in  the  first  place,  "the 

bfinjte"  and  "  the  Ab.iolute,"  even  in  the  sense  in  which  they  are  both 

predicable  of  God,  are  no  more  names  of  Gotl  than  "the  creature" 

and  "the  finite"  are  names  of  man.     They  are  the  names  of  certain 

atbibutes,  which  further  inquiry  may,  perhaps,  shew  to  belong  to  ( i(Ml 

and  to  no  other  being,  but  which  do  not  in  their  signification  express 

this,  and  do  not  constitute  our  primary  idea  of  God,  which  is  that  of  a 

Pereon.     Men  may  believe  in  an  absolute  and  infinite,  without  in  any 

proper  sense  believing  in  God ;  and  thousands  upon  thousands  of  pious 

Ben  have  prayed  to  a  personal  God,  who  have  never  heard  of  tlie  aljso- 

hite  and  the  infinite,  and  who  would  not  understand  the  expressions  if 

they  heard  thenL     But,  in  the  second  place,  "the  absolute"  and  "the 

infinite,"  in  Sir  W.  Hamilton's  sense  of  the  terms,  cannot  Ixtth  l>e 

names  of  God,  for  the  simple  reason  that  tliey  are  contradictory  of 

e«h  other,  and  are  proposed  as  alternatives  which  cannot  both  be 

accepted  as  predicates  of  the  same  subject.     For  Hamilton,  whatever 

Mi.  Mill  may  do,  did  not  fall  into  the  absurdity  of  maintaining  that 

God  in   some   of  his  attributes  is  absolute  without  being   infinite, 

and  in  others  is  infinite  without  being  absolute.f 

But  we  have  not  yet  done  with  this  single  paragraph.     After  thus 
making  two  errors  in  his  exposition  of  his  opponent's  doctrine,  Mr, 
•  ••  ExunioatMin,"  p.  32.  t  S«e  "  Ex&miiutioii,"  p.  36. 


194  ^'''^  Contemporary  Rcvieio. 

Mill  immediately  pi-oceeds  to  a  tliii-d,  in  his.  criticism  of  it.  By 
following  his  "most  unquestionable  of  all  logicsal  maxims,"  and  sub- 
stituting the  name  of  God  in  the  place  of  "  the  Infinite "  and  "  the 
Absolute,"  he  exactly  reverses  Sir  AV.  Hamilton's  argument,  and  makes 
his  own  attempted  refutation  of  it  a  glaring  ignoratio  elenehi. 

One  of  the  purposes  of  Hamilton's  argument  is  to  shew  that  we 
have  no  j)ositive  conception  of  an  Infinite  Being;  that  when  we 
attempt  to  form  such  a  conception,  we  do  but  produce  a  distorted 
representation  of  the  finite ;  and  hence,  that  our  so-called  conception 
of  the  infinite  is  not  the  true  infinite.  Hence  it  is  not  to  be  wondered 
at — nay,  it  is  a  uatural  consequence  of  this  doctrine, — that  our  positive 
concei)tion  of  (iod  as  a  Person  cannot  be  included  under  this  pseudo- 
concept  of  the  Infinite.  Whereas  Mr.  Mill,  by  laying  down  the  maxim 
that  the  meaning  of  the  abstract  must  be  sought  in  the  concrete, 
quietly  assumes  that  this  pseudo-infinite  is  a  proper  predicate  of  God, 
to  Ikj  teateil  by  its  applicability  to  the  subject,  and  that  what  Hamilton 
says  of  this  infinite  cannot  be  true  unless  it  is  also  true  of  God.  Of 
this  refutation,  Hamilton,  were  he  living,  might  tndy  say,  as  he  said 
of  a  former  criticism  on  another  part  of  his  writmgs, — "  This  elaborate 
pamde  of  argument  is  literally  answered  in  two  words — Quis  duhi- 
taritr' 

But  if  the  substitutifni  of  Gml  for  the  Infinite  be  thus  a  perversion 
of  Hamilton's  argument,  what  shall  we  say  to  a  suuilar  substitution  in 
the  case  of  the  Abaolutt^  ^  Hamilton  distinctly  tells  us  that  there 
in  one  nanati  of  the  term  ahsoliUe  in  which  it  is  contratlictory  of  the 
infinite,  and  thei-efore  is  not  predicable  of  God  at  all.  Mr.  Mill 
achnits  that  Hamilton,  throughout  the  greater  part  of  his  ai^uments, 
eni])loys  the  term  in  this  sense  ;  and  he  then  actually  proceeds  to  "  test " 
the.se  urguments  "  by  substitutuig  the  concrete,  God,  for  the  abstract. 
Absolute;"  i.e.,  by  .substituting  Cod  for  sometliing  which  Hamilton 
defines  as  contradictory  to  the  nature  of  God.  Can  tlie  forc«  of  con- 
fusion go  further?  Is  it  possible  for  per\'erse  criticism  more  utterly, 
we  ilo  not  say  to  misrepresent.  I>ut  litcr.illy  to  invert  an  author's 
meaning  ? 

The  source  of  all  these  emu's,  and  of  a  great  many  more,  is  simply 
this.  Mr.  Mill  is  aware,  fmm  Hamilton's  express  assertion,  that  the 
wonl  abiiolnte  may  be  use<l  in  two  distinct  and  even  contradictor^' 
senses ;  but  he  is  wholly  iniable  to  see  what  those  senses  are,  or 
when  Hamilton  is  using  the  term  in  the  one  sense,  and  when  in 
the  other.     Let  us  endeavour  to  clear  up  some  of  this  confusion. 

Hamilton's  article  on  the  Philosophy  of  the  Unconditioned  is  a 
criticism,  partly  of  Schclling,  jiartly  of  Coushi ;  and  Schelling  and 
Cousin  only  attempted  in  a  new  form,  under  the  influence  of  the 
Kantian   plulosopliy,  to  solve   the   prolilem  with  which  philosophy 


The  Philosophy  of  the  Conditioned.  195 

in  all  ages  lias  attempted  to  grapple, — tlie  problem  of  the  Uncon- 
ditioned. 

"The  unconditioned"  is  a  tenn  which,  while  retaining  the  same 
general  meaning,  admits  of  various  applications,  particular  or  uni- 
versal. It  may  be  the  unconditioned  as  regards  some  special  relation, 
or  the  unconditioned  as  regards  all  relations  wliatever.  Thus  there 
may  l>e  the  unconditioned  in  Psycholi^ — the  Imman  soul  considered  as 
a  substance ;  the  unconditioned  in  Cosmolog)- — the  world  considered 
as  a  single  whole ;  the  unconditioned  in  Theology — God  in  His  owii 
natiue,  as  distinguished  from  His  manifestations  to  us ;  or,  finally,  the 
unconditioned  -par  excellence — the  imconditioned  in  Ontol'og}' — the 
being  on  which  all  other  being  depends.  It  is  of  course  ])0S8ib!e 
to  identify  any  one  of  the  three  iirst  with  the  last.  It  is  possible 
to  adopt  a  system  of  li^goism,  and  to  nmintain  that  all  phenomena  are 
modes  of  my  mind,  and  that  the  substance  of  my  mind  is  the  only 
real  existence.  It  is  iwssible  to  adopt  a  system  of  Materialism,  and  to 
maintain  that  all  phenomena  are  modes  of  matter,  and  that  the 
niaterial  substance  of  the  woi'hl  is  the  only  real  existence.  Or  it  is 
possible  to  adopt  a  system  of  Pantheism,  and  to  maintain  that  all 
jienomena  are  modes  of  the  Divine  existence,  and  that  God  is  the 
only  reality.  But  the  several  notions  are  in  themselves  distinct, 
though  one  may  ultimately  l>e  predicated  of  another. 

The  general  notion  of  the  Unconditioned  is  the  same  in  all  these 
eases,  and  all  must  finally  cidminate  in  the  last,  the  Unconditioned 
par  excellence.     Tlie  general  notion  is  that  of  the  One  as  distinguished 
from  the   Many,  the  substance  fixim   its  accidents,  the  permanent 
lodity  from  its  variable  mridifications.     Thouglit,  will,  sensation,  are 
modes  of  my  existence.     AVhat  is  the  /  that  is  one  and  the  same 
in  all  ?    Extension,  figui-e,  I'esistance,  are  attributes  of  matter.     Wlvat 
V  the  one   substance  to   which  these  attributes  Ijelung  ?     But  the 
generalisation  camiot  stop  hei-e.     If  matter  dift'ers  from  mind,  the  non- 
igo  frum  the  cgo,aa  one  thing  fi-om  another, there  mustl>e  some  special 
point  of  difference,  which  is  the  condition  of  the  existence  of  each  in 
tiiis  or  that  partictdar  manner.     Unconditioned  existence,  therefore, 
in  the  highest  sense  of  the  term,  cannot  he  the  existence  of  thi.-< 
as  distinguished  from  that;  it  mast  he  existence  ^j/-/- -sc,  the  ground 
sod  principle  of  all  conditioned  or  special  existence.     This  is  the  Un- 
conditioned, properly  so  called  :  the  unconditioned  in  Schelling's  sense, 
as  the  indifference  of  subject  and  object :  and  it  is  against  this  that 
Hamilton's  arguments  are  directed. 

The  question  is  this.  Is  this  Unconditioned  a  mere  abstraction,  the 
product  of  our  own  minds ;  or  can  it  be  conceived  as  having  a  real 
existence  per  sc,  and,  as  such,  can  it  be  identified  with  God  as  the 
loarcc   of  all  existence  ?     Hamilton   maintains   that  it   is   a   mere 


196  The  Contemporary  Revieiv. 

abstraction,  and  cannot  be  so  identified ;  tbat  far  from  being  "  a  name 
of  God,"  it  is  a  name  of  nothing  at  all.  "  By  abstraction,"  he  says, 
"we  annihilate  the  object,  and  by  abstraction  we  annihilate  the 
subject  of  consciousness.  But  what  remains  ?  Nothing."  When  we 
attempt  to  conceive  it  as  a  reality,  we  "hypostatise  the  zero."* 

In  order  to  conceive  the  Unconditioned  existing  as  a  thing,  we  must 
conceive  it  as  existing  out  of  relation  to  everything  else.  For  if 
nothing  lieyond  itself  is  necessary  as  a  condition  of  its  existence, 
it  can  exist  separate  from  everytliing  else;  and  its  pure  existence  as 
the  unconditioned  is  so  separate.  It  must  therefore  be  conceivable  as 
the  si>le  existence,  having  no  plurality  beyond  itself;  and  as  simple, 
having  no  ])lurality  within  itself.  For  if  we  caimot  conceive  it  as 
existing  apait  from  other  thingii,  we  cannot  conceive  it  as  independent 
of  them ;  and  if  we  conceive  it  as  a  compomid  of  parts,  we  have  further 
to  ask  as  liefore,  what  is  the  prinoiiile  of  unity  which  binds  these  parts 
into  one  whole  ?  If  there  is  such  a  i)rinciple,  this  is  the  true  uncon- 
ditioned; if  there  is  no  such  principle,  there  is  no  imconditioned;  for 
that  which  cannot  exist  except  as  a  coinj>oiuid  is  dependent  for  its 
existence  on  that  of  its  several  constituents.  The  unconditioned  must 
therefore  be  conceived  as  one,  as  simple,  and  as  universal. 

Is  such  fi  conception  possible, whether  in  mdinary  consciousness,  as 
Cousin  says,  or  in  an  extra onlinarj-  intuition,  as  Schelling  aays? 
Let  us  try  the  former.  (Consciousness  is  subject  to  the  law  of  Time. 
A  phenomenon  is  jtresented  \n  us  in  time,  as  dependent  on  some  pre- 
vious phenomenon  or  thing.  I  wish  to  pursue  the  chain  in  thought 
till  I  arrive  at  something  uideiiendent.  If  I  could  reach  in  thought 
a  beginning  of  time,  and  discover  some  first  fact  with  nothing  pre- 
ceding it,  I  should  conceive  time  as  alisolute — as  completed, — and  the 
unconditioned  as  the  fii'st  thing  in  time,  and  therefore  as  completed 
al.S(i,  for  it.  may  be  considered  by  itself,  apait  from  what  depends  upon 
it.  Or  if  time  be  considered  as  having  no  beginning,  thought  would 
still  be  able  to  represent  to  itself  that  infinity,  coidd  it  follow  out  the 
series  of  antecedents  for  ever.  But  is  either  of  these  alternatives 
possible  to  thought  ?  If  not,  we  must  confess  that  the  unconditioned 
is  inconceivable  by  ordinary  consciousness ;  and  we  must  found  philo- 
sophy, with  Sclielling,  on  the  annihilation  of  consciousness. 

But  though  Hamilton  himself  distinguishes  between  the  uneoor 
ditioned  and  the  absolute,  using  the  former  term  generally,  for  that 
wluch  is  out  of  aU  relation,  and  the  latter  specially,  for  that  which 
is  out  of  all  relation  as  complete  imd  finished,  his  opponent  Cousin 
uses  the  latter  term  in  a  wider  sense,  as  synonymous  with  the  former, 
and  the  infinite  as  coextensive  with  both.  This,  however,  does  not 
affect  the  validity  of  Hamilton's  argument     For  if  it  can  be  shown 

•  "  DiscuBsioiu,"  p.  21. 


Tlie  Philosophy  of  the  Conditiomd.  197 

that  ttie  absolute  and  the  infinite  (in  Hamilton's  aense)  are  both 
inconceivable,  the  unconditioned  (or  absolute  in  Cousin's  sense),  which 
must  be  conceived  as  one  or  the  other,  is  inconceivable  also.  Or,  con- 
Tersely,  if  it  can  be  shown  that  the  unconditioned,  the  unrelated  in 
general,  is  inconceivable,  it  follows  that  the  absolute  and  tlie  infinite, 
as  both  involving  the  unrelated,  are  inconceivable 'also. 
We  may  now  proceed  with  Mr.  Mill's  criticism.     He  says : — 

"  Absolute,  in  the  sense  in  which  it  stands  related  to  Infinite,  means 
(eonfonnably  to  its  etymology)  that  which  is  finiahed  or  completed.  There 
Bie  some  things  of  which  the  utmost  ideal  amount  is  a  limited  quantity, 
Qiongh  a  quantity  never  actually  reached.  .  .  .  We  may  speak  of  ahso- 
htelj,  hut  not  of  infinitely,  pure  water.  The  purity  of  water  is  not  a  fact 
of  which,  whatever  degree  we  auppose  attained,  there  remains  a  greater 
Iwyond  It  has  an  absolute  limit ;  it  is  capable  of  being  finished  or  com- 
plete, in  thought,  if  not  in  reality."— (P.  34.) 

This  criticism  is  either  incorrect  or  nQiil  ad  rem.  If  meant  as  a 
statement  of  Hamilton's  use  of  the  term,  it  is  incori'ect ;  absolute,  in 
Hamilton's  philosophy,  does  not  mean  simply  "  completed,"  but  "  out 
of  relation  as  completed ; "  i.  c,  self-existent  in  its  completeness,  and 
not  implying  the  existence  of  anything  else.  If  meaut  in  any  other 
sense  than  Hamilton's,  it  is  irrelevant.  Can  Mr.  Mill  really  have 
believed  that  Schelling  thought  it  necessary  to  invent  an  intellectual 
intuition  out  of  time  and  out  of  consciousness,  in  order  to  contemplate 
"la  ideal  limited  quantity,"  such  as  the  complete  purity  of  water  ? 

Mr.  Mill  continues ; — 

"  Though  the  idea  of  Absolute  is  tlius  contrasted  with  that  of  Infinite,  the 
one  is  equally  fitted  with  the  other  to  be  predicated  of  God ;  but  not  in 
iwpect  of  the  same  attributes.  There  is  no  incorrectness  of  speocli  in  the 
^aaae  Infinite  Power :  because  the  notion  it  expresses  is  that  of  a  Being  who 
bia  the  pon^T  of  doing  all  things  which  we  know  or  can  conceive,  and  more. 
Kit  in  speaking  of  knowledge.  Absolute  is  the  proper  word,  and  not  Infinite, 
"Oie  highest  d^ree  of  knowledge  that  can  be  spoken  of  with  a  meaning, 
mly  Bmoimts  to  knowiug  all  that  there-is  to  be  kno\vn  :  when  that  point  is 
nehed,  knowledge  has  attained  its  utmost  limit.  So  of  goodness  or  justice  : 
tbsj  cannot  be  more  than  perfect.  There  are  not  infinite  d^recs  of  right. 
The  will  is  either  entirely  right,  or  vrrong  in  different  degrees." — (P.  35.) 

Surely,  whatever  Divine  power  can  do.  Divine  knowledge  can  know 

«8  possible  to  be  done.     The  one,  therefore,  must  be  as  infinite  as  the 

other.   And  what  of  Divine  goodness  ?    An  angel  or  a  glorified  saint  is 

ihaolutely  good  in  Mr.  Mill's  sense  of  the  term.     His  "  will  is  entirely 

jight"    Does  Mr.  Mill  mean  to  say  that  there  is  no  difference,  even  in 

degree,  between  the  goodness  of  God  and  that  of  one  of  His  creatures  ? 

Bnt,  even  supposing  his  statenient  to  be  true,  how  is  it  relevant  to  the 

matter  under  discussion  ?     Can  Mr.  Mill  possibly  be  ignorant  that  aU 

ftese  attributes  are  relations ;  that  the  Absolute  in  Hamilton's  sense, 

*  the  unconditionally  limited,"  is  not  predicable  of  God  at  all ;  and  that 


198  The  Contemporary  Reznew. 

when  cUvines  and  philosophers  speak  of  the  ahsolute  nature  of  God, 
they  mean  a  nature  in  which  there  is  no  distinction  of  attributes 
lit  aU  ? 

Mr.  Mill  then  proceeds  to  give  a  suniinar)'  of  Hamilton's  arguments 
ngainst  Cousin,  preparatory'  to  refuting  them.  In  the  course  of  this 
summary  he  says  :— 

"  I^t  me  ask,  en  passant,  where  is  the  necessity  for  supposing  that,  if 
the  Ahsolute,  or,  to  speak  plainly,  if  (Jod,  is  only  known  to  us  In  the 
character  of  a  cause,  he  must  therefore  '  exist  merely  as  a  cause,'  and  be 
merely  'a  mean  towards  an  end'^  It  is  surely  ]>ossib1e  to  maintain  that  the 
Deity  is  known  to  ua  only  as  he  who  feeds  the  ravens,  without  supposing 
that  the  Divine  Intelligence  exists  solely  in  order  that  the  ravens  may  be 
fed.  "•_(?.  42.) 

On  this  we  would  remark,  rw  pasmtif,  that  this  is  precisely 
Hamilton's  own  doctrine,  that  the  sphere  of  our  belief  is  more  ex- 
tensive than  that  of  our  knowledge.  The  purport  of  Hamilton's 
argument  is  to  shew  that  the  Absolute,  as  conceived  by  Cousin,  is  not 
a  true  Absolute  {Injinito-Ahsolute),  and  therefore  does  not  represent 
the  real  nature  of  God.  His  argument  is  this :  "  Cousin's  Absolute 
exists  merely  aa  a  cavise :  Goil  does  not  exist  merely  as  a  cause : 
therefore  Cousin's  Absolute  is  not  God."  Sir.  Mill  actually  mistakes 
the  position  which  Hamilton  is  opjwsiug  for  that  which  he  is  main- 
taining. Such  an  eiTor  does  not  lead  11s  to  expect  mtich  from  his 
subsequent  refutation. 

His  first  criticism  is  a  curious  specimen  of  his  reading  in  philo- 
sophy.    He  says : — 

"  Wlien  the.  True  or  the.  IJeautiftd  are  spoken  of,  the  phrase  is  -meant  to 
include  all  things  whatever  that  are  true,  or  all  things  whatever  that  ore 
beautiful  If  this  rule  is  good  for  other  abstractions,  it  is  good  for  tiie 
Absolute.  The  word  is  devoid  of  me^uiing  unless  in  reference  to  predioat« 
of  some  sort.  .  .  .  If  we  are  told,  therefore,  that  there  is  some  Being 
M-ho  is,  or  which  is,  the  Absolute, — not  something  ahsohite,  but  the 
Absolute  itself, — ^the  proposition  can  be  understood  in  no  other  sense  tlun 
that  the  supposed  Being  possesses  in  absolute  comjtlcteneps  nU  predicates ; 

*  In  a  note  to  this  passage,  Mr.  Mill  makes  some  sarcastJc  comments  on  an  argomoiit 
of  Hamilton's  against  Cousin's  tieory  that  God  is  necessarily  determined  to  create.  "  On 
this  hypothesis,"  says  Hamilton,  "  God,  as  necessarily  determined  to  pass  from  abac^Dte 
essence  to  relative  manifestation,  is  determined  to  pass  cither  from  the  better  to  the  ■wonb^ 
or  from  the  worse  to  the  better."  Mr.  Mill  calls  this  argument  "a  curiosity  of  dim- 
luctice,"  and  answers,  "  Perfect  wisdom  would  have  begun  to  will  the  new  state  at  the 
precise  moment  when  it  began  to  be  better  than  the  old."  Hamilton  is  not  spealdng  of 
states  of  things,  but  of  states  of  the  Divine  nature,  as  creative  or  not  creative;  mil  Ur. 
Hill's  argument,  to  refute  Hamilton,  must  suppose  a  time  when  the  new  nature  of  God 
begins  to  be  better  than  tlie  old  !  Hr.  Mill  would  perhaps  have  spoken  of  Hamilttm'a 
argument  with  more  respect  had  he  known  that  it  is  taken  trom  llato. 


The  Philosophy  of  the  Cofiditioned.  1 99 

is  absolutely  good  and  absolutely  bad ;   absolutely  wise  and   abaohitely 
stupid;  and  so  forth."*— (P.  43.) 

Plato  expressly  distinguishes  between  "the  beautiful"  and  "things 
that  are  beautiful,"  ns  the  One  in  contrast  to  the  Many — the  Keal  in 
contrast  to  the  Apparent.-f-     It  is,  of  course,  quite  possible  that  Plato 
may  be  wrong,  and  Mr.  Mill  right ;  but  the  mere  fact  of  their  anta- 
gonism is  sufficient  to  shew  that  the  meaning  of  "the  phrase"  need 
not  be  what  Mr.  Mill  supposes  it  must  be.     In  fact,  "  the  Absolute"  in 
philosophy  always  has  meant   the  One  as  distinguished  from   the 
Many,  not  the  One  as  including  the  Many.   But>  as  applied  to  Sir  W. 
Hamilton,  Mr.  Mill's  remarks  on  "  the  Absolute,"  and  his  subsequent 
remarks  on  "  the  Infinite,"  not  only  misrepresent  Hamilton's  position, 
bntexactly  reverse  it.     Hamilton  maintains  that  the  terms  "absolute" 
and  "infinite"  are  perfectly  intelligible  as  abstractions,  as  much  so  as 
"relative"  and  "finite;"  for  "correlatives  suggest  each  other,"  and  the 
"  knowledge  of  contradictories  is  one ;"  but  he  denies  that  a  concrete 
thing  or  object  can  be  conceived  as  absolute  or  infinite.     Mr.  Mill 
represents  him  as  only  proving  tliat  the  "  unmeaning  abstractions  are 
unknowable," — abstractions  which  Hamilton  does  not  assert  to  be 
unmeaning,  and  which  he  r^ards  as  knowable  in  the  only  sense  in 
^ch  such  abstractions  can  be  known,  viz.,  by  understanding  the 
meaning  of  their  names.| 

"Something  infinite,"  says  Mr.  Mill,  "  is  a  conception  which,  like  most  of 
out  complex  ideas,  contains  a  negative  element,  but  which  contains  positive 
dements  also.  Infinite  space,  Jor  instaace  ;  is  there  nothing  positive  in 
thatl  The  n^ative  part  of  this  conception  is  the  absence  of  bounds.  The 
positive  are,  the  idea  of  space,  and  of  space  greater  than  any  finite  spaca" 
-{P.  45.) 

*  In  cappcot  of  thia  poution,  Hr.  Hill  cites  Hegel — "  What  kind  of  an  absolute  Being 
ii  tint  which  does  not  contain  in  itself  all  that  is  actual,  even  evil  included  F ' '  We  are  not 
ccneetned  to  defend  Hegel's  position ;  but  he  vas  not  quit«  so  absurd  aa  to  mean  what 
Hr.  HiD  (uppoaes  him  to  have  meant.  Does  not  Mr.  Hill  knoT  that  it  was  one  of  Ht^gol's 
hnditnental  positions,  that  the  Divine  nature  cannot  be  expressed  by  a  plurality  of  predi- 
«ihB?  t  "  Republic,"  book  v.,  p.  479. 

}  This  confusion  between  conceiving  a  concrete  thing  and  knowing  the  meaning  ol 
■hibBct  tenna  is  at  old  as  Toland's  "  Christianity  not  Mysterious,"  and,  indeed,  has  its 
gam,  though  not  its  development,  in  the  teaching  of  his  assumed  master,  Locke.  Locke 
taught  that  all  our  knowledge  is  founded  on  simple  ideas,  and  that  a  complex  idea  is 
aardy  an  accnmulatioa  of  simple  ones.  Hence  Toland  maintained  that  no  object  could 
k  myatcriooa  or  inconceivable  if  the  terms  in  which  its  several  attributes  are  expressed 
have  ideas  corresponding  to  them.  But,  in  point  of  fact,  no  single  idea  can  be  conceived 
■S  an  object  by  itself,  though  the  word  by  which  it  is  signified  has  a  perfectly  intelligible 
BMning.  I  cannot,  t.g.,  conceiye' whiteness  by  itself,  though  I  can  conceive  a  white 
vaU, !.(.,  whiteness  in  combination  with  other  attributes  in  a  concrete  object.  To  con- 
Mn«  attributes  as  coexisting,  however,  we  must  conceive  them  as  coexisting  in  a 
attain  manner ;  for  an  object  of  conception  is  not  a  mere  heap  of  ideas,  but  an  organized 
vholc^  whose  conatitaent  ideas  exist  in  a  particular  combination  with  and  relation  to 
SMh  other.  To  canceiTe,  therefore,  we  must  not  only  be  able  to  apprehend  each  idea 
asparately  in  the  abstract,  but  also  the  manner  in  which  they  may  possibly  exist  in  com- 
Dns&OQ  with  each  other. 


200  The  Contemporary  Review. 

This  definition  of  infinite  ^pace  is  exactly  that  which  DeBcartes 
gives  us  of  indefinite  extetmon, — "Ita  quia  non  poasumus  imaginari 
extensiouem  taui  niagnam,  qiiin  intelligamus  adhuc  majorem  esse 
posse,  (licemus  inagnitudinem  rerum  possibilium  esse  indefinitam."  • 
So,  too,  Cudwortlj, — "  There  appeareth  no  sufficient  ground  for  this 
positive  inlinity  of  space ;  we  being  certain  of  no  more  than  this,  that 
be  the  world  or  any  figurative  body  never  so  great,  it  is  not  impossible 
but  that  it  might  be  still  greater  and  greater  without  end.  Which 
indefinite  increasableness  of  body  and  space  seems  to  be  mistaken  for 
a  positive  infinity  thereof."  "f"  And  Locke,  a  philosopher  for  whom  Mr. 
Mill  will  probably  have  more  respect  than  for  Descartes  or  Cudworth, 
writes  more  plainly :  "  To  have  actually  in  the  mind  the  idea  of  a 
.space  uitinite,  is  to  suppose  the  mind  already  passed  over,  and  actually 
to  have  a  view  of  all  those  repeated  ideas  of  space,  which  an  endless 
repetition  can  never  totally  represent  to  it, — which  carries  in  it  a  plain 
contradiction."!  Mr.  Mill  tiius  unwittingly  illustrates,  in  Ms  own 
I>erson,  tlie  truth  of  Hamilton's  remark,  "  If  we  dream  of  effecting 
this  [conceiving  the  infinite  in  time  or  space],  we  only  deceive  our- 
selves by  substituting  the  indefinite  for  the  infinite,  than  which  no 
two  notions  can  be  more  opposed."  In  fact,  Mr.  Mill  does  not 
seem  to  be  aware  that  what  the  mathematician  calls  infinite,  tie 
metaphysician  calls  indefinite,  and  that  arguments  drawn  from  the 
niatheiuiitical  use  of  the  term  infinite  are  wholly  irrelevant  to  the 
metaphysicul.  How,  indeed,  could  it  be  otherwise  ?  Can  any  man 
suppose  that,  when  the  Divine  attributes  are  spokeu  of  as  infinite,  it 
is  meant  tliat  they  are  indefinitely  increasable  ?  § 

In  fact,  it  is  the  "concrete  reality,"  the  "something  infinite,"  and 
not  tiie  mere  abstraction  of  infinity,  which  is  only  conceivable  as  a 
negation.  Every  "somethmg"  that  has  ever  been  intuitively  present 
to  my  consciousness  is  a  something  finite.     When,  tlierefore,  I  siteak 

•  "  Principia,"  i.  26.  f  "  Intellectual  System,"  cd.  Harrison,  vol.  iii.,  p.  131. 

i  Essayii,  17,  7. 

\  One  of  the  ablest  mathematiciaas,  and  the  most  persevering  Homiltono-mastix  of  the 
day,  mointaina  the  applicability  of  the  metaphysical  notion  of  infinity  to  mathematical 
moguitudeB ;  but  with  on  assumption  which  unintentionally  vindicates  Ilamilton's  poaition 
more  fully  than  could  have  been  done  by  a  professed  disciple.  "  I  shall  assume,"  saya  Pro- 
fessor De  Morgan,  in  a  paper  recently  printed  among  the  "  Transactions  of  the  Cambridge 
I'hilosophical  Society,"  "  the  notion  of  infinity  and  of  its  reciprocal  infinitesimal :  that  a 
line  can  be  conceived  infinite,  and  therefore  having  points  at  an  infinite  distance.  Image 
apart,  which  we  cannot  have,  it  seems  to  mu  clear  that  a  line  of  infinite  length,  without 
points  at  an  infinite  distance,  is  a  contradiction."  Now  it  is  easy  to  shew,  by  mere 
reasoning,  without  nuy  image,  that  this  assumption  is  equally  a  contradiction.  For  if 
space  is  finite,  every  line  in  space  must  be  finite  also ;  and  if  space  is  infinite,  every  point 
in  space  must  have  infinite  space  beyond  it  in  every  direction,  and  therefore  cannot  be  at 
the  greatest  possible  distance  from  another  point.  Or  thus :  Any  two  points  in  space  are 
the  extremities  of  the  line  connecting  them;  but  an  infinite  line  has  no  extremities; 
therefore  no  two  points  in  space  can  be  connected  together  by  an  infinite  line. 


Tlu  Philosophy  of  the  Conditioiud,  201 

of  a  "something  infinite,"  I  mean  a  somet'iing  existinj^  in  a  different 
manner  from  all  the  "  somethings  "  of  which  I  have  had  experience  in 
intuition.  Thus  it  is  apprehended,  not  positively,  but  negatively — 
Lot  directly  by  what  it  is,  but  indirectly  by  what  it  is  not.  A  negative 
idea  is  not  negative  because  it  is  expressed  by  a  negative  term,  but 
because  it  has  never  been  realised  in  intuition.  If  infinity,  as  applied 
to  space,  means  the  same  thing  as  being  greater  tlian  any  finite  space, 
both  conceptions  are  equally  positive  or  equally  negative.  If  it  does 
not  mean  the  same  thing,  then,  in  conceiving  a  sjiace  greater  than 
any  finite  space,  we  do  not  conceive  an  infinite  space. 

Mr.  MUl's  three   next   criticisms  may  be  very  briefly  dismissed. 
First,  Hamilton  does  not,  as  Mr.  Mill  asserts,  say  that  "  the  Uncondi- 
tioned is  inconceivable,  because  it  includes  both  the  Infinite  and  the 
Absolute,  and  these  are  contradictory  of  one  another."    His  argument  is 
a  common  disjunctive  syllogism.    The  unconditioned,  if  conceivable 
at  all,  must  be  conceived  either  as  the  absolute  or  as  the  infinite ; 
neither  of  these  is  possible ;  therefore  the  uncouditioued  is  not  con- 
cei\-able  at  all.     Nor,  secondly,  is  Sir  W.  Hamilton  guilty  of  the 
"strange  confusion  of  ideas"  wliich  Mr.  Mill  ascribes  to  liim,  when 
he  says  that  the  Absolute,  as  being  absolutely  One,  cannot  be  known 
under  the  conditions  of  plurality  and  difference.      The  absolute,  as 
such,  must  be  out  of  all  relation,  and  consequently  cannot  be  con- 
ceived in  the  relation  of  plurality.     "  The  jdurality  reciuired,"  says 
Mr.  Mill,  "  is  not  within  the  thing  itself,  but  is  made  up  between 
itself  and  other  things."     It  is,  in  fact,  both  ;  but  even  gi-anting  Mr. 
MiU's  assumption,  what  is  a  "plurality  between  a  thing  and  other 
things "  but  a  relation   between   them  ?     There   is    undoubtedly  a 
"staange  confusion  of  ideas"  in  this  paragraph  ;  but  the  confusion  is 
not  on  the  part  of  Sir  W.  Hamilton.     "  Again,"  continues  Mr.  Mill, 
"even  if  we  concede  that  a  thing  cannot  be  known  at  all  unless 
known  as  plural,  does  it  follow  that  it  cannot  be  known  as  plural 
because  it  is  also  One  ?     Since  when  have  the  One  and  tlie  Many 
beenincompatible  things,  insteadof  different  aspects  of  the  same  thing  ? 
...    If  there  is  any  meaning  in  the  words,  must  not  Absolute  Unity 
be  Absolute  Plurality  likewise?"     Mr,  Mill's  "since  when?"  may 
be  anSTvered  in  the  words  of  Plato  : — "  OiStv  f/iot7£  aron-ov  S«Kft  tivat 
cl  %v  h-navra  aTTOfofvct  Tif  rt^  yxriyjiiv  t-qu  tuoc  Kit  Taiira  ravTn  ttoXXo 
n^  wA^aovf  av  \u.Tk-^iv'  aXA'  (i  d  Xotiv  iv,  avrh  tovto  TroXXd  aTrootlK^tf 
ml    a{>   TO   iroXAo  8q  iv,  touto   ^Srj   Oav/iaaofiat."  *      Here   we   are 
expressly  told  that  "absolute  unity"  cannot  be  "  absolute  plurality." 
Mr.  Mill  may  say  that  Plato  is  wrong ;  but  he  will  hardly  go  so  far  as 
to  say  that  there  is  no  meaning  in  his  words.     And,  thirdly,'  when 
Mr.  Mill  accuses  Sir  W.  Hamilton  of  departing  from  his  own  meaning 

•  "  Pnrmenidps,"  p.  123. 
VOL.  I.  P 


202  The  Contemporary  Review. 

of  the  tenn  absobite,  in  uiaintainiug  that  the  Absolute  cannot  be  a 
Cause,  he  oiily  shows  tliat  he  does  not  himself  know  what  Hamilton's 
meaning  is.  "  If  Absolute,"  he  says,  "  means  tinishetl,  perfected,  com- 
pleted, may  there  not  be  a  finished,  perfected,  and  completed  Cause  ?" 
Hamilton's  Al>3olute  is  that  which  is  "  ont  of  relation,  as  finished, 
perfect,  complete ;"  and  a  Cause,  as  such,  is  both  in  relation  and 
incomplete.  It  is  in  relation  to  its  eft'ect ;  and  it  is  incomplete 
without  its  effect.  Finally,  when  Mr.  Mill  charges  Sir  W.  Hamilton 
with  maintaining  "tliat  extension  and  figure  are  of  the  essence  of 
matter,  and  [)erceived  as  such  by  intuitiou,"  we  must  bri^y  reply 
that  Hamilton  does  no  such  thing.  He  is  not  speaking  of  the  essraice 
of  matter  ^)fr  se,  but  only  of  matter  as  apprehended  in  relation 
to  us. 

Mr.  ifill  concludes  this  chapter  with  an  attempt  to  discover  the 
nieanmg  of  Hamilton's  assertion,  "  to  think  is  to  condition."  We  have 
already  explained  what  HamQton  niea.nt  by  this  expression  ;  and  we 
recur  to  the  subject  now,  only  to  shew  the  easy  manner  in  which  Mr. 
Mill  manages  to  miss  the  point  of  an  argument  with  the  clue  lying 
straight  before  him.  "  Did  any,"  he  says  (of  those  who  say  that  the 
Absolute  is  thinkable),  "profess  to  think  it  in  any  other  manner  than 
by  distinguishing  it  from  other  things?"  Now  this  is  the  very  thing 
which,  according  to  Hamilton,  Schelling  actually  did.  Mr.  Mill  does 
not  attemi)t  to  shew  that  Hamilton  is  wrong  in  his  interpretation  of 
Schelling,  nor,  if  he  is  right,  what  were  the  reasons  which  led  Schelling 
to  so  1  paradoxical  ajiosition:  he  simply  assumes  that  no  man  could 
hold  8chelling's  view,  and  there  is  an  end  of  it.*  Hamilton's  purpose 
is  to  reassert  in  substance  the  doctrine  which  Kant  maintained,  and 
which  Schelling  denied;  and  the  natural  way  to  ascertain  his  meaning 
would  be  by  reference  to  tliese  two  philosopliers.  But  this  is  not  the 
method  of  Mr.  Mill,  here  or  elsewhere.  He  generally  endeavours  to 
ascertain  Hamilton's  meaning  by  ranging  the  wide  field  of  possi- 
bilities. He  tells  us  what  a  phrase  means  in  certain  authors  of  whom 
Hamilton  is  not  thinking,  or  in  reference  to  certain  matters  which 
Hamilton  is  not  discussing;  but  he  hardly  ever  attempts  to  trace  the 
histoiy  of  HamQton's  own  view,  or  the  train  of  thought  by  which  it 

*  Mr.  Itrill  does  not  expressly-  name  Schelling  in  thip  sentence ;  but  he  does  bo  aboMj 
nftcrwarUf ;  nnd  liis  reninrk  ib  of  the  same  character  with  the  prerioua  one.  "Ereo 
Schellini^,"  he  sayi,  *'  was  not  bo  gratuitously  absurd  as  to  deny  that  the  AbBolute  must  bs 
knon'a  according  to  the  capacities  of  that  which  knows  it — though  ho  was  forced  to  inTmt 
a  special  capacity  for  the  purpose."  But  if  this  capacity  is  an  "  invention"  of  ScheHing's, 
and  if  he  was  "forced"  to  invent  it,  Hamilton's  point  is  proved.  To  think  according  to 
all  the  real  operations  of  thought  which  conwiouBnesa  makes  known  to  ua,  il  to  eonditiaiL 
And  the  faculty  of  the  unconditioned  is  an  invention  of  Schelling' b,  not  known  to  co<i- 
sciousness.  In  other  words :  all  our  real  faculties  bear  witness  to  the  truth  of  Hamiltoa'a 
statement ;  and  the  only  way  of  coutroverling  it  is  to  invent  on  imaginary  faculty  for  th6 
purpose. 


The  Philosophy  of  the  Conditioned.  203 

suggested  itself  to  his  mind.  And  the  result  of  this  is,  that  Mr.  Mill's 
iuterpretations  are  generally  in  the  potential  mood.  He  wastes  a  good 
deal  of  conjecture  in  discoverin<,'  what  Hamilton  inight  have  meant, 
when  a  little  attention  in  tlie  right  iiuaiter  would  have  shown  what 
he  did  mean. 

The  tliird  feature  of  Hamilton's  philosophy  whicli  we  charged  Mr. 

Mill  with  misunderstanding,  is  the  distinction  lietween  Knowledge  and 

Belief.    la  the  early  part  oi  this  article,  we  endeavoured  to  explain 

the  trae  nature  of  this  distinction  ;  we  have  now  only  a  very  limited 

space  to  notice  Mr.  Mill's  criticisms  on  it.    Hamilton,  he  says,  admitted 

"a  second   source  of  intellectual   conviction   called  Belief."      Now 

Ifelief  is  not  a  "  source  "  of  any  conviction,  but  the  conviction  itself. 

Xoiuan  would  say  that  he  is  convinced  of  the  truth  of  a  proposition 

J«BMi*  he  believes  it;   his  belief  in  its  truth  is  the  same  thing  as 

his  conviction  of  its  truth.     IJelief,  then,  is  not  a  source  of  conviction, 

l)nt  a  conviction  having  sources  of  its  owni.      The  question  is,  have 

n"e  Intimate  sources  of  conviction,  distinct  from  tliose  which  con- 

i^ute  Knowledge  proi)erly   so   called  ?      Now   here  it   should   l>e 

remembered  that  the  distinction  is  not  one  invented  by  Hamilton  to 

meet  the  exigencies  of  his  own  system.      He  enumerates  as  many 

as  twenty-two  authora,  of  the  most  various  schools  of  philosophy,  who 

all  acknowledged  it  before  liim.      Such  a  concuiTence  is  no  slight 

aigmnent  in  favour  of  tlie  reality  of  the  distinction.     We  do  ]iot  say 

that  Uiese  writers,  or  Hamilton  himself,  have  always  expressed  this 

di^iDction  in  the  best  language,  or  applied  it  in  the  best  manner; 

imt  we  say  that  it  is  a  true  distinction,  and  that  it  is  valid  for  the 

principal  pnrjxjse  to  which  Hamilton  applied  it. 

We  do  not  agi-ee  with  all  the  details  of  Hamilton's  application. 
"We  do  not  agree  with  him,  tliough  he  is  sui>portcd  by  very  eminent 
anthcnities,  in  classifying  our  conviction  of  axiomatic  ]irinciples  as 
hdief,  and  not  as  knowledffc*  But  tliis  question  docs  not  directly 
Lear  on  Mr.  Mill's  criticism.  Tlie  i)oint  of  that  criticism  i.s,  that 
Hamilton,  by  admitting  a  helirf  in  the  intinite  and  unrelated,  nullities 

•  IJamOtoa'i  dutmction  u  in  principle  the  samo  ns  that  wliich  vn  have  ftivon  in  tha 
ftrmer  part  of  this  article.  He  aays.  "  A  comfiction  is  incompreliensiblo  when  there  is 
aerdy  given  to  ai  in  conBciousneBS— JTAn'  it«  object  u  (on  tart),  ami  when  we  are  unablo 
to  eomprebend  through  a  higher  notion  or  belief  Itlntor  Ifow  it  i>  {iinrt  lOTi)." — (Reid's 
T^oAs,  p.  7fi4.)  We  Toold  diatingiiiiih  between  tc/ii/  and  Aoic,  between  tiin  and  jtwc- 
"We  cam  giTe  no  Teaacm  tcAy  two  straight  lines  cannot  enclose  a  spare;  but  wu  can  com- 
githatd  hote  they  cannot.  We  have  only  to  fomi  the  correspondinf;  image,  to  see  the 
Kkimerm  vhich  the  two  attributes  coexist  in  one  object.  liut  when  I  say  that  I  believe  in 
tW  cxutenoe  of  a  epiiitnal  being  who  sees  wilbout  eyes,  I  cannot  conceive  the  tnantier  in 
vliiclk  aeeing  coexists  *tth  the  absence  of  the  bodily  organ  of  sight.  We  believe  that  the 
fana  dijtincfaon  between  knowledge  and  belief  may  ultimately  he  referred  to  the  presence 
ar  absBnoe  of  the  corresponding  intuition ;  but  to  shew  this  in  the  various  instances  would 
Kquire  a  longer  dissertation  than  our  present  hinits  w  ill  alloir. 


204  '^^^^  Contemporary  Review. 

lii»  own  doctrine,  tliat  all  knovAcdgc  Ls  of  the  finite  and  relative. 
\jit  lis  see. 

We  may  believe  thnt  a  thing  is,  -without  being  able  to  conceive 
how  it  is.  I  believe  that  God  is  a  i>erson,  and  also  that  He  is  infinite; 
llmuyli  I  cannot  conceive  havj  the  attributes  of  personality  and  infinity 
exist  t(;gether.  All  my  knowledge  of  personality  is  derived  from 
my  consciousness  of  my  own  finite  iwrsonality.  I  therefore  believe 
in  the  coexistence  of  attributes  in  God,  in  some  manner  different  from 
that  in  whicii  they  coexist  in  me  as  limiting  each  other:  and  thus 
I  believe  in  the  fact,  though  1  am  unable  to  concei\'e  the  manner.  So, 
aj,'ain,  Kant  brings  certain  counter  arguments,  to  prove,  on  the  one 
side,  tliat  the  world  has  a  beginning  in  time,  and,  on  the  other  side, 
tlint  it  has  not  a  beginning.  Kow  supiwsc  I  am  unable  to  refute 
either  of  these  courses  of  argument,  am  I  therefore  compelled  to  have 
no  belief  at  all  ?  May  I  not  say,  1  believe,  in  spite  of  Kant,  that  the 
wnrhl  hits  a  beginning  in  time,  though  1  am  unable  to  conceive  hokciS, 
cim  have  sn  begun?  "What  is  this,  again,  but  a  belief  in  an  absolute 
reality  beyond  the  .sphere  of  my  relative  knowledge  ? 

"  I  am  not  now  considering,"  says  Mr.  Mill,  "what  it  is  that,  in  our 
inithor's  opinion,  m'c  uro  bound  to  believe  concemmg  the  unknowabla" 
\Vliy,  this  wius  the  very  thing  he  ought  to  have  considered,  before 
pronouncing  Ihc  position  to  be  untenable,  or  to  be  irreconcilable  with 
sometliing  else.  Meanwhile,  it  is  instructive  to  observe  that  Mr.  Mill 
himself  believes,  or  i-equires  his  readers  to  believe,  something  concern- 
ing the  unknown,  ile  does  not  know,  or  at  any  rate  he  does  not  tell 
hirt  readers,  what  Hamilton  requires  them  to  believe  concerning  the 
unknowable ;  but  lie  himself  believes,  and  requires  them  to  believe, 
that  tins  unknown  something  is  incumi)atible  witli  the  doctrine  thid 
knowledge  is  relative.  We  cannot  regaitl  this  as  a  veiy  satisfactory 
nifHle  of  refuting  Hamilton's  thesis.* 

liUt  if  Mr  Mill  is  unjust  towai-ds  the  distinction  between  Know- 

*  In  ft  lubsrqupnt  chajrtcr  (p.  120),  ilr.  Mill  endeavours  to  overthrow  thia  dutinction 
liotwwn  Knowledge  nnd  Ktlicf,  by  means  of  llamUloa's  own  theory  of  Conscioumtsi. 
lliimilton  maintaina  tlitit  we  rannot  bo  eonseioiis  of  a  mental  operation  without  being  oi»- 
n-ioun  of  its  object.     On  this  Mr.  Mill  rftorta  that  if,  as  Ilaniilton  admits,  we  are  conecion 
iif  a  belief  in  the  Infinite  nnd  the  Absolute,  wc  must  bo  conscious  of  tbe  Intinito  ftnd  tlw 
Abmluto  thenidt'lves ;  nnd  sueh  eonaei-nisncsa  ia  Knowledge.     Tho  fallacy  of  this  retort  ik 
tntnspari'nt,     Th<^  innnedinto  object  of  Ittlief  is  o  proposition  whiei  I  hold  to  be  true,  no^ 
u  H/ini/  nppn'hcnded  in  an  act  of  coni-cption.     I  believe  in  an  infinite  God;  i.e.,  I  believ^H 
Ifiat  Ood  is  iiitinite  :  I  believe  thnt  the  attributes  which  I  aseribe  to  God  eiirt  in  Him  i^n 
un  intinite  dej.Tee.     Now,  to  believe  this  proposition,  I  must,  of  course,  he  conscioua  of  i^H 
iiicnniiig  ;  but  1  nin  not  thtn'fore  conscious  of  the  Intiiiite  God  ns  an  object  of  coneeptiocr» 
for  ibis  would  i  ciiuirc  further  un  apprehension  of  the  manner  in  which  these  infinite  itt^^ 
butcs  coexist  w)  as  lo  form  one  ^^llje.■t.     The  vhole  argument  of  this  eighth  chapter 
confuted,  owing  to  Mr.  Mill  not  having  distinguished  between  those  passages  in  wlk:£«: 
Sir  \V.  ll.imilton  is  merely  iising  im  ariiriiitiitiim  ad  l.omiiiim  in  relation  to_Reid, 
those  in  whiih  he  is  reas'^iiin :  f:''>n)  petieml  principles. 


The  Philosophy  of  i/ie  Conditioned.  205 

ledge  and  Balicf,  as  held  by  Sir  W.  Hamilton,  lie  makes  ample  amends 
to  the  injured  theory  in  the  next  chapter,  by  extending  the  province 
of  credibility  far  beyond  any  bounds  which  Hamilton  woidd  ha\'ts 
dreamed  of  claiming  for  it.     Conceivability  or   inconceivability,   lie 
tells  us,  are  usually  dependent  on  association ;  and  it  is  quite  possible 
that,  under  other  associations,  we  might  be  able  to  conceive,   and 
therefore  to  believe,  anything  short  of  the  direct  contradiction  tliat 
the  same  thing  is  and  is  not     It  is  not  in  itself  incredible  that  a 
square    may  at   the  same    time  be  round,  that  two   straiglit  lines 
may  enclose  a  space,  or  even  that  two  and  two  may  make  five.  •    But 
whatever  concessions  Mr.  Mill  may  make  on  this  point,  he  is  at  least 
fully  determined  that  Sir  W.  Hamilton  sliall  derive  no  benefit  fi-om 
them  ;  for  he  fortliwith  proceeds  to  charge  Sir  William  with  confusing 
three  distinct  senses  of  the  term  conception — a  confusion  which  exists 
solely  ill  his  o\v\\  imagination, "f" — and  to  assert  that  the  Philosophy  of 
the  Conditioned  is  entirely  founded  on  a  mistake,  inasmuch  as  infi- 
nite space  on  the  one  hand,  and,  on  the  other,  both  an  absolute  mini- 
mum and  an  infinite  divisibility  of  space,  are  perfectly  conceivable. 
"With  regard  to  the  former  of  these  two  assertions,  Mr.  Mill's  whole 
arguinent  is  vitiated,  as  we  have  already  shown,  by  his  confusion  be- 
tween infinite  and  indefinite ;  but  it  is  worth  wliile  to  quote  one  of  his 
special   instances   in  this  chapter,   as    a  specimen    of  the  kind   of 
reasoning    which    an    eminent    writer    on    logic    can     sometimes 
employ.       In    reference    to    Sir    "W.     Hamilton's    assertion,    that 
infinite   space  would  require  infinite  time  to  conceive  it,   he  says, 

'  Inrerercnce  to  thii  last  paradox,  5£r.  Mill  ciuotes  from  "  Esaays  by  a  Barrister:" 
''There  U  a.  world  in  which,  whenoTL-r  two  paLra  of  things  arc  either  plnccii  in  proximity 
or  are  coiit«inpIated  together,  a  fiflh  thing  is  immcdintely  created  and  brought  within 
the  contemplnti-jn  of  the  mind  engaged  in  putting  two  and  two  together.  ...  In 
<uch  a  world  Burely  two  and  two  would  make  live.  'J'hat  id,  the  result  to  the  nilnd  of 
contemplating  two  twoa  would  be  to  count  five,"  The  answer  to  this  reasoning  has  been 
*Jra»dy  given  by  Archdeacon  Li'c  in  hia  Essay  on  Miiaeles.  Tho  "  live  "  in  this  case 
'*  not  the  sum  of  two  and  two,  but  of  two  and  two  p/iu  the  new  creature,  i.  e.,  of  two  and 
f  Wo  plui  one. 

+   The  soo^e  in  which  Sir  W.  Hamilton  himwlf  uses  tho  word  eoiireption  is  explained  in 

<  aata  to  Keid'a  Works,  p.  377— namely,  tlie  combination  of  two  or  more  attributes  in  a 

"nitg  of  npretentation.     The  second  sense  which  Mr.  Mill  imagines  is  simply  amistakoof 

Ilia  own.    When  Hamilton  speaks  of  being  "  unable  to  conceive  aa  possible,"  he  does  not 

neon,  as  Mr.  Mill  supposes,  physically  possible  under  the  law  of  gravitation  or  some  other 

la^v  of  matter,  but  ment&lly  possible  as  a  representation  or  image  ;  and  thus  the  supposed 

*e«soad  sense  is  identical  with  the  first.     The  third  sense  may  also  be  reduced  to  the  first ; 

for  to  conceive  two  attributes  as  combined  in  one  representation  is  to  form  a  notion  subor- 

dltuUe  to  those  of  each  attribute  separately.    Wo  do  not  say  that  Sir  W.  Hamilton  has 

been  uniformly  accurate  in  hia  application  of  the  teat  of  conceivability ;  but  we  say  that 

liisiMCcuracies,  such  as  they  are,  do  nut  alfcct  the  thcorj'  of  the  conditioned,  and  that  in 

all  llio  long  extracts  which  Mr.  Mill  quotes,  with  footnotes,  indicating  "first  sense," 

*'  secood  tense,"  "  third  sense,"  the  author's  meaning  may  he  more  accurately  explained  in 

the  &.ni  tense  only. 


2o6  The  Contemporary  Review. 

"  Let  us  try  the  doctrine  upon  a  complex  wliole,  short  of  infiiute, 
such  as  the  miniber  695,788.  >Sir  "W.  Hamilton  would  not,  I  suppose, 
have  maintained  that  this  number  is  inconceivable.  How  long  did 
lie  tliiiik  it  would  take  to  >^o  over  every  separate  unit  of  this  whole, 
so  as  to  obtain  a  periect  kuowledge  of  the  exact  sum,  as  different 
from  all  other  sums,  either  greater  or  less  ?" 

It  is  marvellous  that  it  shoukl  not  have  occurred  to  Mr,  Mill,  while  he 
was  writing  this  passage, "  How  conies  this  large  number  to  be  a '  whole ' 
at  all ;  and  how  comes  it  that '  this  whole,'  with  aU  its  imita,  can  be 
written  dovni  by  meau.s  of  six  digits  ?"  Simply  because  of  a  conven- 
tional ammgement,  by  wliich  a  single  digit,  according  to  its  positiOTi, 
can  express,  by  one  mark,  tens,  Iiundreds,  thousands,  &c.,  of  iinits; 
and  thus  can  exliaust  the  sum  by  dealing  with  its  items  in  large 
masses.  But  how  can  such  a  process  exhaust  the  infinite?  We 
should  like  to  know  how  long  Mr.  Mill  thinks  it  would  take  to  work 
out  the  followuig  pi-oblem : — "  If  two  figures  can  represent  ten,  three  a 
hundred,  four  a  thousand,  five  ten  thousand,  &c.,  find  the  number  of 
figures  required  to  represent  infinity."  * 

Infinite  divisibility  stands  or  fall.s  with  infinite  extension.  In  both 
cases  Mr.  Mill  confounds  infinity  with  indefiniteneas.  But  with 
regani  to  an  absolute  minimum  of  space,  Mr.  Mill's  ai^iment  requires 
a  separate  notice. 

"  It  is  not  denied,"  he  says,  "  that  thurc  is  a  ])oi-tiou  of  extension  which 
to  tlie  nakeil  eye  appears  an  indivisible  point ;  it  Ilis  been  called  by  philo- 
sophers the  viiHt'imnH  risible.  This  minimum  we  can  indefinitely  magnify 
by  means  of  optical  instruments,  making  visible  the  still  smaller  parts  which 
compose  it.  In  each  successive  experiment  theii;  \?  still  a  tuiiiiuium  nlsiblr, 
anything  less  tlian  which,  cannot  be  diBcuvercd  with  that  instrument,  but 
can  with  one  of  a  highi-r  power.  Suppose,  now,  that  as  we  increase  the 
magnifying  power  of  our  instruments,  and  before  we  have  reached  the  limit 
of  possible  increase,  we  amve  at  a  stage  at  which  that  which  seemed  the 
smallest  visible  apace  under  a  given  microscope,  does  not  u]>pear  larger 
under  one  wliicli,  by  its  mechauiail  coiistnictioii,  is  adapted  to  magnify  more, 
but  still  remains  apparently  indivisible.  I  say,  that  if  this  liappened,  we 
should  believe  in  a  minimum  of  extension  ;  or  if  some  A  priori  metaphysical 
prejudice  prevented  us  from  believing  it,  wo  should  at  least  be  enabled  to 
conceive  it,"— (P.  84.) 

The  natnml  conclusion  of  most  men  under  such  circumstances 
would  be,  that  there  was  some  faidt  in  the  microscope.  But  even  if 
this  conclusion  were  rejected,  we  presume  Sir,  Mill  would  allow  that^ 

*  PreciBcly  the  samo  misronception  of  Hamilton's  position  occurs  in  Professor  De 
Morgan's  paper  in  the  "Cambridge  Transactions,"  to  which  ue  havo  previously  referred. 
He  speols  (jf.  13)  of  the  *'  notion,  which  nins  through  many  writers,  from  Descartes  to 
Hamilton,  that  the  mind  must  be  big  enough  to  hold  (dl  it  can  conceive."  This  notion  is 
certainly  not  maintained  by  Hamilton,  nor  yet  by  Descartes  in  the  paragraph  quoted  by 
Mr.  De  Morgan  ;  nor,  as  far  as  we  are  aware,  in  any  other  part  of  his  works. 


The  Philosophy  of  the  Conditioned.  207 

nniJer  the  supposed  circiunstances,  the  exact  magnitude  of  tlie  mini- 
mum of  extension  would  be  calculabla  We  have  only  to  measure  the 
BuimKwi  visible,  and  know  what  is  the  magnifying  ixiwer  of  our 
microscope,  to  detennine  the  exact  dimensions.  Suppose,  then,  tliat 
we  assign  to  it  some  definite  magnitude — say  the  ten  billionth  pait  of 
an  inch, — should  we  then  conclude  that  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  the 
twenty  billionth  part  of  an  inch  ? — in  other  words,  that  we  have  arrived 
at  a  definite  magnitude  which  has  no  conceivable  half?  .Surely  this 
is  a  somewhat  rash  concession  to  be  made  by  a  writer  who  has  just 
told  ya  that  nxmibera  may  be  conceived  up  to  infinity;  and  therefore, 
of  coarse,  down  to  iufinitesimality. 

J[r.  Mill  concludes  this  chapter  with  an  assertion  which,  even  by 

Mi,  i»  sufficient  to  shew  how  very  little  he  has  attended  to  or 

nndewtood  the  philosophy  which  he  is  attempting  to  criticise.     "  The 

kv  of  Excluded  Middle,"  he  says,  "  as  well  as  that  of  Contradiction,  is 

common  to  all  phenomena.     But  it  is  a  doctrine  of  our  author  that 

these  laws  are  true,  and  cannot  but  be  known  to  be  true,  of  Nonmena 

likewise.     It  is  not  merely  Space  as  cognisable  by  our  senses,  but 

^lace  as  it  is  in  itself,  which  he  affirms  must  be  either  of  unlimited  or 

of  hmited  extent"  (p.  86).     At  this  sentence  we  fairly  stand  aghast. 

"Space  83  it  is  in  itself"!  the  Noumenon  Space !     Has  Mr.  Mill  been 

ill  this  while  "examining"  Sir  William  Hamilton's   philosophy,   in 

Dtter  ignorance  that  the  object  of  that  philosophy  is  the  "  Conditioned 

in  Time  and  5^ac«;"  that  he  accepts  Kant's  analysis  of  time  and  space 

as  formal  necessities  of  thought,  but  pronounces  no  opinion  whatever 

« to  whether  time  and  space  can  exist  as  Noimiena  or  not  ?     It  is  the 

]rfienomenal  sj>ace,  "  space  as  cognisable  by  our  senses,"  which  Sir  W. 

&miIton  says  must  be  either  limited  or  unlimited;   coucemiug  the 

Koamenon  Space,  he   does  not  hazard  an  opinion  whether  such  a 

thii^  exists  or  not.     He  says,  indeed  (and  this  is  probably  what  has 

nrialed  Mr.  Mill),  that  the  laws  of  Identity,  Contradiction,  and  Excluded 

Kiddle,  are  law^s  of  things  as  well  as  laws  of  thought;*  but  he  says 

nothing  about  these  laws,  as  predicating  infinite  or  finite  extension. 

On  the  contrary,  he  expressly  classifies  Space  under  tlie  law  of  Rela- 

tirity,  the  violation  of  whicli  indicates  what  may  exist,  but  what  we 

ae  unable  to  conceive  as  existing.     Briefly,   the  law  of  Excludetl 

Middle  (to  take  this  instance  alone)  is  a  law  of  things  only  in  its 

tbitract  form,  "Everything  must  be  A  or  not  A"  (ej;ten<{<'J,  if  you 

jJease,   or  not  extended) ;   but  in  its  subordinate  form,  "  Everything 

extended  most  be  extended  infinitely  or  finitely,"  it  is  oidy  applicable, 

and  only  intended  by  Hamilton  to  be  applied,  to  those  phoiomoia 

which  are  already  given  as  extended  in  some  degree. 

We  have  now  examined  the  first  six  chapters  of  Mr,  Mill's  book, 

•  "  DiBCOBsionB,"  p.  603. 


20S 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


coDtaiiiing  lufj  temarks  on  thftfc  poi-tion  of  Sir  'W.  H«miltou'a  pliily- 

sophy  which  lie  justly  regaitls  as  uompiising  the  most  iin}K>rtaBt  of 

the  doctrine.^  which  epecinlly  bi^Iong  to  UiiniHtou  liimself.     The  nest 

chapter  is  aii  epsaude,  in  which  Mr.   Mill  turns  asiile  hmu  Sir  W, 

Haniiltou  to  criticise  Mr.  Mansel'a  "  Biunpton  Lectures."    As  oiir  limits 

c!o  not  permit  us  tn  cfiiTy  on  the  aTi^iiineut  at  present  throu|»li  the 

remainrler    of   Mr.    Mill's    reiimrka   on    Ilttiniltiui    himself,   wo    shall 

conclmle  our   notice  with  ft  few  worIs   on  this  chapter,  as  clusJug 

the    properly    metnphysicfil    portion    of   Mr,    Mill's    himk,,    niiiil    aa 

afFoitlirig  aniplu  iirouf  tlnxt,  in  tills  clepai'tmeut  of  pliilosophy  nt  least. 

Mr.  Mill's   powers  of  itiisappreheusion   ilo  nut   cease  when   Sir  W. 

Hnrniltoii  ia  no  hmger  their  [*hject.  ^^ 

Mr.  MLU'fi  mctlioil  of  criticism  makes  it  i;;euerjiily  mjceasary  to  coi^^^ 

mence  with  a  stsitcmeut  of  the  criticised  theory  as  it  really  ia,  before 

proceeding  to  his  exposition  of  it  as  it  is  not.     Tlie  present  instauci- 

otiers  m.}  exccplion  to  this  rule.    Mr  .MausL-l's  aryTimuut  may  he  briefly 

stated   as   follows.     The   primaiy  anil  essBiitial  conception  of  God, 

imperatively   ilemauiieii   hy   our  uioktI  ami  rKli^nuus   conscinusue^,     | 

is  that  of  a  ^«tw/».     Ihit  personality  miplies  iiitellect.iiiil  ami  ukm-jI 

attributes;  ami  the  only  direct  and  ijnniedinite  knowleilf;re  which  we 

haveof  siu;h  ut tributes  is  derived  from  the  testimony  of  aelf-conscious- 

ness,   beariii;*   witue,'^a    to   thi^ir   existence   in    a   certain    niaimiir   in 

ourselves,     But  when   we  widea^our  to   transfer  tho  conception  of 

personality,  thus  obtained,  to  the  domain  of  theoloyy,  wu  ineet  with 

certain  dilhcultiir's,  wjiich,  while  they  are  not  siilHcient  to  Itinder  us 

from  bclirtinff  in  tlic  Divine  I'ersonality  as  a  fact,  yet  himier  us  t'lwm 

cmucivifif/  the  niiniiier  of  its  existenci'.  and  prevent  us  fnjm  wxhiljitiiig 

our  belief  aa  a  pliilosiphical  conclusion,,  proved  by  iiTcfniytd>le  reasoning 

and  secm-ed  ngnin.st  all  objections.     Thu3e  difficulties  are  occasiunml, 

on  the  one  haiul,  by  the  so-called  Fliilosophy  of  the  Uncomlitioned, 

which  in  all   a^'cs   has   shown  n  tendency  towards  rantheijini.  u-nd 

which,  in  one  of  its  latest  and  most  hmshud  nuLniftstations,  aiuionncea 

itself  as  the  exlnbiiion  of  Uod  as  IIu  is  in  His  etenml  nature  ]>efory 

creation;  ami,  on  the  other  hand,  by  t!ie  limitations  and  conditions 

to   wliich   PUT   ijwo  pei-sonaliEy  i*  subject,  and  which,  as  we  have 

pointed  out  in  tlie  lomier  part  of  this  article,  have  ft-om  the  very 

bi^miing  of  Cli  list  inn  theoloyy.  prevented  theologians  from  accepting 

the  Ihnited  personality  of  man  as  an  exact  image  and  couriterpart 

of  the  unlimited  pw'sonaUty  of  tiod.     The,9e  ditiicidties  Mr.  Mansel 

endeavours  to  meet  in  two  ways.     On  the  one  aide,  he  maintains, 

in  coinninn  with  Sir  \V.  Hamillon,  that  the  rhilosopliy  of  thL>  Uccoii- 

ditioued,  by  reason  of  it-g  own  iiicongruitie.^i  and  self- contra  dictions,  has 

no  claim  to  be  accepted  as  a  competent  witness  in  the  matter;  and  o« 

the  other  aide^  he  niamtains,  ui  ci>mniou  with  nmny  theologians  before 


The  Philosophy  of  tlie  Conditioned.  209 

him,  that  hninan  iiei-aouality  cannot  be  assumed  aa  an  exact  copy  of 
the  Divine,  but  only  as  that  which  is  most  nearly  analogous  to  it 
among  finite  things.     But  these  two  positions,  if  admitted,  involve  a 
conespomting  practical  conclusion  as  regartls  the  criterion  of  religious 
truth  or. falsehood.    AVere  we  capable,  either,  on  the  one  hand,  of  a 
clear  conception  of  the  Unconditioned,  or,  on  the  other,  of  a  direct 
intuition  of  the  Divine  Attributes  aa  objects  of  consciousness,  we  might 
be  able  to  construct,  deductively  or  inductively,  an  exact  science  of 
Theoli^.     As  it  is,  we  are  compelled  to  reason  by  analogy;  and 
analogy  furnishes  only  probabilities,  varying,  it  may  be,  from  slight 
presumptions  up  to  moral  certainties,  but  whose  weight,  in  any  given 
case,  can  only  be  detennined  by  comparison  with  other  evidences. 
There  are  three  distinct  sources  froia  which  we  may  obtain  a  know- 
ledge of  the  ways  of  God — first,  fr*jm  our  own  moral  and  intellectual 
consciousness,  by  which  we  judge  d,  priori  of  what  God  ought  to  do  in 
a  given  case,  by  determining  what  wg  should  think  it  wise  or  right  for 
ourselves  to  do  in  a  similar  case ;  secondly,  from  tlie  constitution  and 
coarse  of  nature,  from  which  we  may  know  by  experience  what  God's 
providence  in  certain  cases  actually  is ;  and  thirdly,  from  revelation, 
attested  by  its  proper  evidences.     Where  these  three  agree  in  their 
testimony  (as  in  the  great  majority  of  cases  they  do)  we  have  the 
moral  certainty  which   residts  from  the  harmony  of  all  accessible 
evidences:   where  they  appear  to  differ,  we  have  no  right  at  once 
to  conclude  that  the  second  or  the  third  must  give  way  to  the  first, 
and  not  vicA  versd;  because  we  have  no  right  to  assume  that  the 
first  alone  is  infallible.    In  the  author's  own  words :  "  The  lesson  to  be 
learnt  from  an  examination  of  the  Limits  of  Religious  Tliought  is  not 
that  man's  judgments  are  vjorthlcss  in  relation  to  Divine  things,  but  that 
they  are  fallible :  and  the  probability  of  error  ia  any  particular  cas« 
can  never  be  fairly  estimated  without  giving  their  full  weight  to 
all  collateral  considerations.     We  are  iiuleed  bound  to  believe  that 
a  fievelation  given  by  God  can  never  contain  anything  that  is  really 
unwise  or  unrighteous ;  but  we  are  not  always  capable  of  estimating 
eiactly  the  wisdom  or  righteousness  of  particular  doctrines  or  precepts. 
And  we  are  bound  to  bear  in  mind  that  exactly  in  p}-opoi-tion  to  the 
ttrtngth  of  the  remainiiuj  evidence  for  tlu  Divine  origin  of  a  religion,  is 
tkt  prdbahUity  that  we  may  he  mistaken  in  supposing   this   m'  that 
portion  of  its  contents  to  he  umvorthy  of  God.   Taken  in  conjunction,  the 
two  arguments  may  confirm  or  coiTeet  each  other :  taken  singly  and 
aheoiutely,  each  nuiy  vitiate  the  result  which  should  follow  from  their 
joint  application."  • 

In  criticising  the  first  part  of  this  ar^iuent — that  which  is  directed 
against  the  deductive  philosophy  of  the  Unconditioned — Mr.  Mill  mani- 
•  "  fituupton  Lectures,"  p.  156,  4th  edition. 


2IO 


Tlte  Contemporary  Review. 


I'eets  tbe  same  Tvant  of  acquaintance  with  its  meautDg,  nnd  witli  the 
previous  history  of  the  r[uestion,  wiiich  he  had  before  exliibited  in  his 
ii.tiflck  on  Hir  "W.  Haniiltrm.  He  Legins  by  fiuiling  fanlt  nnth  the 
definition  Lif  the  Abanlute,  which  ifr.  Mansel  (hecehi  d^jjartitig.  and 
jmrpnstily  departing,  from  8ir  W.  Hamdton'a  iise  of  the  term)  defines 
Ita  "that  which  exists  in  and  hy  itself,  having'  Tir>  necessarj'  relation  to 
any  nther  lleing."  On  tins,  Mr.  Mill  remarks:  "The  firat  wortls  of 
his  definition  wuuld  serve  for  the  description  of  a  Noumenon  ;  hut  Mr. 
MRnsel's  Ahsolnte  is  unly  meant  to  ilenote  nns  "Beine^,  identitied  with 
Gud,  ami  (Jrx!  is  not  the  only  Nonnienoii."  The  description  of  a  Nou- 
menon !  This  is  idmnst  equal  to  the  discovery  of  a  Noumenon  Space. 
Doos  Mr.  Mill  re^illy  suppose  that  all  nniimena  am  aelf-existent?  A 
iutwiwiuiii  (in  tlie  sense  in  wliidi  we  suppose  Mr,  Mill  to  understand 
tho  term,  for  it  lias  different  meaning's  in  diftei-ent  pliUoaopliies) 
iiiipliiis  an  existence  ont  of  relation  to  the  hunmn  mind.*  But  is  thia 
tijo  same  as  heing  ont  of  all  relation  ■whatever,  aa  existing  "in  aud  hy 
itself  "  ?  Doea  Mr.  Mill  mean  to  say  that  a  creature,  whether  jierccived 
by  us  or  not.  btis  no  relation  to  its  C'n^tor?  Dut  Mr.  JEJH,  as  ire 
have  seen  bei'on.\  is  not  much  at  honiu  when  he  j-ets  nuiong 
"  nouniena,"  We  must  proceed  to  his  criticism  of  the  second  port  of 
the  deJiliition. — "ImV'iuy  no  uece&sary  relation  to  any  otlier  Iwiiig." 
Of  these  wortla  liy  gays,  that  "they  admit  of  two  con.st  ructions.  The 
word.^  in  their  natural  sense  only  nimn,  mpahh  ofcd^tinj  tfut  ofrda- 
iion  ill  anythiii'j  else.  The  arj^iment  requires  that  tliey  should  mean, 
ifu-ii]fab/r  v/ t-risttn;/  in  nhitlvn  v-ith  imtfthing  tf-si:"  And  why  ia  tliia 
non-natural  sense  to  he  forced  upon  '\'ery  plain  words  i  Because,  says 
Mr,  Mill,— 

"  Tn  what  monnor  im  a  ppBsiUci  existfiiep  iittt  of  nil  rektion,  incftnipatiblo 
with  the  notion  of  a  cause  I  Hiive  not  cinusea  a  possibla  pxistenco  apart 
Iroia  their  effects  ?  Would  the  suu,  for  esiimjde,  not  exist  if  there  were  no 
earth  or  pliinLMs  fop  it  to  illuminate  j  Mr.  Mansel  seems  to  think  tliiit  TrhuC 
is  i:apcibIo  of  exiating  out  of  relation,  canniit  puasilily  lie  conceived  or  knotm 
ill  relation,  Hut  this  is  not  so.  .  .  .  FfKed  frowi  this  coufusion  of  iilcaa,  Mr, 
ManseVs  argutHcnt  rtsolves  itaulf  into  this, — The  same  Being  eanuot 


I 


*  Strittly  spcuLiug,  llm  term  tioufHenni,  ne  moBnicig  that  vhitb  coa  be  apprcheoded  < 
by  the  inlellpctT.  impIieB  »  relation  to  the  intellect  npiirelliJIiiliiiig  it;  and  in  (his 
■76  vtiaififvav  ii  op^JOiei!  "by  Pinto  to  r&  I'lp^fifvof — llio  olijt'Ct  of  intellect  to  tbe  objwC 
of  «ight.  IJul  ae  llio  mleillEct  van  supposed  to  take  cogni&nnoe  of  tbinf;?  ob  thgj 
lii^,  in  uppOsitioa  lo  1ti£  sensiliyc  pert'eii^Jon  Of  tliiogs  as  they  appi'Ur.  tlli:  tciTil  nouiMIMfl 
boc^oinc  ^ynoujinoitA  with  tiiiiii/  in  ttttlf  {t&  3i'  tsaW  avto).  And  ttis  mvoniDg'  ia  retained, 
in  ttie  Kanliun  philoaopliy,  ia  whirh  the  naiimtnon  is  ideiiticai  n'itli  ihe  Div^  i>n  WfJS.  But 
a*  Kant  denJcd  to  the  human  int«lkct  nay  iniiueiUiitit  intiulJoii  ai  iLings  aa  tiw^  sra 
(thtiugb  Kiicb  an  inCuJtioQ  inay  bp  possilile  to  a  &u]ii!rhiminn  itit.cllect),  hem'e  the  tenni 
iioii;fif»(iii  in  till;  Kimtjiui  plu1c«ophy  is  op]iosed  tn  all  of  whicb  tbe  humaJi  iDtt:U(:i?t 
ijuL  take  poaitivti  rognisnnifi?.  Ilamilloin,  in  this  rmpnct,  agrees  icilb  Ktint,  But  nc-ithtr 
Rant  nor  Hainiltoii.  in  Oppositig  \he  thing  in  itseif  to  tho  phmomttiBti,  meant  to  imj 
the  fonncr  is  necesiarily  self-ciistent,  and  therefore  uncreated. 


The  Philosophy  of  the  Conditioned,  2  r  i 

thought  by  «3  Iwth  03  Cause  and  as  Absolute,  because  a  Caiise  as  mdi  is  not 
Absolute,  aad  Absolute,  as  such,  is  not  a  Cause ;  wliicli  is  cxatttly  as  if  hu 
hail  said  that  Xewton  cannot  bo  thought  by  us  both  as  an  Englislmian  and 
ag  a  mathematician,  because  an  f'nglishman,  as  such,  is  not  a  mathematician, 
uor  a  mathematician,  as  such,  an  Englishman." — (P.  92.) 

The  "confusion  of  ideas"  is  entirely  of  ilr.  Mill's  own  making, 
and  is  owing  to  his  haWng  mutilated  tlie  argument  before  criticising 
it.  The  argument  in  its  original  form  consists  of  two  parts ;  the  first 
intended  to  shew  that  the  Absolute  is  not  conceived  as  such  in  being 
conceived  as  a  Cause ;  the  second  to  shew  that  the  Absolute  cannot  be 
wnceived  under  different  aspects  at  different  times — first  as  Absolute, 
and  then  as  Cause.  It  was  tlie  impossibility  of  this  latter  alternative 
whii'li  drove  Cousin  to  tlie  liyjjothesis  of  a  necessary  causation  from  all 
eternity,  ilr.  ilill  entii-ely  omits  tlie  latter  part  of  the  argument,  and 
treats  the  fonner  part  as  if  it  were  the  whole.  The  part  criticised  by 
Mr.  Mill  is  intended  to  prove  exactly  what  it  does  prove,  and  no  more ; 
namely,  that  a  cause  as  S2(i:h  is  not  the  absolute,  and  that  to  know  a 
cause  as  siicit  is  not  ttj  know  the  absolute.  We  presume  Mr.  Mill 
himself  will  admit  that  to  know  Xewton  as  a  mathematician  is  not  to 
know  him  as  an  Englishman.  Whether  he  can  be  known  separately 
as  both,  and  whether  the  Absolute  in  tliis  respect  is  a  parallel  case, 
depends  on  another  consideration,  which  Mr.  Mill  has  not  noticed, 
tlie  continuation  of  Mr.  Mill's  criticism  is  equally  confused  He 
saj-s : — 

"The  whole  of  Ifr.  SEansel's  argument  for  the  inconceivability  of  the 
Infinite  and  of  the  Absolute  is  one  long  iijHoniflo  iii:it:'hi  It  lias  been 
pointed  out  in  a  former  chapter  that  the  words  Absolute  and  Infinite  have  no 
real  meaning,  unless  we  understand  by  them  that  which  is  alisolute  or  infinite 
in  some  given  attribute ;  as  si>aco  is  called  infinite,  meaning  that  it  is  infi- 
nite in  extension ;  and  as  God  is  termed  infinite,  in  the  sense  of  possessing 
infinite  power,  and  absolute  in  the  sense  of  absolute  goodness  or  knowledgi'. 
It  has  also  been  shown  tliat  Sir  "W.  Hamilton's  argmneuts  for  the  unknow- 
aUenesB  of  the  Unconditioned  do  not  prove  that  we  cannot  know  an  object 
which  is  absolute  or  infinite  in  some  specific  attribute,  but  only  that  wo 
cannot  know  an  abstraction  called  '  The  Absolute '  or  '  The  Infinite,'  which 
iimpposed  to  have  all  attributes  at  once," — (P.  93.) 

The  fallacy  of  this  criticism,  as  reganls  Sii*  W.  llaniilton,  has  been 
already  pointed  out :  as  reganls  Mr.  Manael,  it  is  still  more  glaring, 
inasmuch  as  that  writer  expressly  declares  that  lie  uses  tlie  term 
flmtute  in  a  different  sense  from  that  which  Mr.  Mill  attributefl  to  Sir 
W.  Hamilton.  AVhen  Mr.  ilill  charges  Mr.  Mansel  with  "  undertak- 
ing to  pnjve  the  impossibility"  of  conceiving  "a  Being  absoliiteli/ jxist 
ft  aheoluteltf  wise"*  (i.c.,  a^  he  supposes,  ^^cr/cc^ty  just  or  wise),  he 
actually  forgets  tliat  he  has  just  been  criticising  Mr.  Mansel's  definition 
of  the  Absolute,  as  something  having  a  possible  existence  "  out  of  all 

•  "  Eswninntion,"  p.  9-5. 


212  The  Coiiteniporary  Review. 

i-olfition."  "WilljMr.  Mill  Lave  tlie  kindness  to  tell  113  what  be 
means  by  goodness  and  knowledge  "  out  of  all  relation ;"  i.  c,  a  good- 
ness and  knowledge  related  to  no  object  on  which  they  can  be  exer- 
cised; a  goodness  which  is  good  to  nothing,  a  knowledge  which  knows 
nothing  ?  Jlr.  Mdl  bad  better  be  cautious  m  talking  about  ignoratio 
dciichi. 

I'roni  tlie  Absolute,  Mr.  Mill  proceeds  to  the  Infinite ;  and  here  he 
commits  the  same  mistake  as  before,  treating  a  portion  of  an  argument 
as  if  it  were  the  whole,  and  citing  a  portion  intended  to  prove  one 
point  as  if  it  were  intended  to  prove  another.  He  cites  a  passage 
from  Mr.  jVfansel,  in  whicli  it  is  said  that  "  the  Infinite,  if  it  is  to  be 
conceived  at  all,  must  be  conceived  as  potentially  everything  and 
actually  nothing;  for  if  there  is  anything  in  general  wliicli  it  cannot 
become,  it  is  thereby  limited ;  and  if  there  is  anything  in  particular 
which  it  actually  is,  it  is  thereby  excluded  from  being  any  otlier  thing. 
But,  again,  it  must  also  be  conceived  as  actually  everything  and  poten- 
tially nothing;  for  an  unrealised  ixttentiality  is  likewise  a  limitation. 
If  the  Infinite  can  be  that  which  it  is  not,  it  is  by  that  very  possibility 
marked  out  as  incomplete,  and  capable  of  a  higlier  perfection.  If  it  is 
actually  everj-thing,  it  possesses  no  cliaracteristic  feature  by  "which  it 
can  be  distinguished  from  anything  else,  and  discerned  as  an  object  of 
consciousness."  On  this  passage  Mr.  Mill  remarks,  "  Can  a  writer  be 
serious  who  bids  us  conjure  up  a  conception  of  sometliing  which  pos- 
sesses infinitely  all  conflicting  attributes,  and  because  we  cannot  do 
this  without  contradiction,  would  have  xis  believe  that  there  is  a  con- 
tradiction in  the  idea  of  infinite  goodness  or  infinite  wisdom  ?"  The 
answer  to  this  criticism  is  very  simple.  The  ai'gumunt  is  not  emiiloyed 
for  the  purpose  which  Mr.  Mill  supposes.  It  is  eaijiloyed  to  shew 
that  the  metaphysical  notion  of  the  absolute-infinite,  as  the  sum, 
potential  or  actual,  of  all  possible  existence,  is  inconceivable  under  the 
laws  of  human  consciousness ;  and  thus  that  tlie  absolutely  first 
cxi.stence,  related  to  nothing  and  limited  by  nothing,  the  ciis  rcalissi- 
muM  of  the  older  philosophers,  the  jnire  heituf  of  the  Hegelians,  cannot 
be  attained  as  a  starting-point  from  which  to  deduce  all  relative  and 
derived  existence.  How  far  the  empirical  conception  of  certain 
mental  attributes,  such  as  goodness  or  wisdom,  derived  in  the  first 
instance  from  our  own  personal  consciousness,  can  be  positively  con- 
ceived as  extended  to  infinity,  is  considered  in  a  separate  argument, 
which  Mr.  Mill  does  not  notice. 

Mr.  Mill  continues,  "Instead  of  'the  Infinite,'  substitute  'an  infi- 
nitely good  Being'  [i.e.,  substitute  what  is  not  intended],  and  Mr. 
Mansel's  argument  reads  thus : — '  If  there  is  anything  which  an 
infinitely  good  Being  cannot  become — if  he  cannot  become  bad — that 
is  a  limitation,  and  the  goodness  cannot  be  infinite.     If  there  is  any- 


The  Philosophy  of  t/te  Conditioned.  2 13 

thing  which  an  infinitely  good  Being  actually  is  (namely,  gooJ),  he  is 

«^xcluded  from  being  any  other  thing,  as  being  wise  or  powerful'"    To 

tlie  first  part  of  this  objection  we  reply  by  simply  asking,  "Is  becom- 

iug  bad  a  '  higher  perfection'  ?"     To  the  second  part  we  reply  by  Mr. 

;3Mill's  favourite  mode  of  reasoning — a  parallel  case.    A  ^vriter  asserts 

■tliat  a  creature  which  is  a  horse  is  thereby  excluded  from  being  a  dog ; 

fjnd  that,  in  so  far  as  it  has  the  nature  of  a  horse,  it  has  not  the  nature 

of  a  dog.     "What!"  exclaims  Mr.  Mill,  "is  it  not  the  nature  of  a  dog 

to  have  four  legs  ?  and  does  the  man  mean  to  say  that  a  horse  has  not 

I'our  legs?"    We  venture  respectfully  to  ask  Mr.  Mill  wliether  he 

supposes  that  being  wise  is  being  "  a  thing,"  and  being  good  is  being 

another  "thing"? 

But,  seriously,  it  is  much  to  be  wished  that  when  a  writer  like  Mr. 
iliU  undertakes  to  discuss  philosopliical  questions,  he  should  acquire 
some  slight  acquaintance  with  the  history  of  the  questions  discussed. 
Had  this  been  done  by  our  critic  in  the  present  case,  it  might 
possibly  have  occurred  to  him  to  doubt  whether  a  doctrine  supported 
by  philosophers  of  such  different  schools  of  thought  as  Spinoza,  Male- 
biancbe.  Wolf,  Kant,  Schelling,  could  be  (piite  such  a  piece  of  trans- 
parent nonsense  as  he  supposes  it  to  be.  All  these  writers  are  cited 
in  Mr.  Mansel's  note,  as  maintaining  the  theorj'  that  the  Absolute  is  the 
mrmfissimum,  or  sum  of  all  existence;  and  their  names  might  have 
saved  Mr.  Mill  from  the  absurdity  of  supposing  that  by  this  expression 
was  meant  something  "  absolutely  good  and  absolutely  bad  ;  abso- 
lutelywise  and  absolutely  stupid;  and  so  forth."  The  real  meaning 
of  the  expression  has  been  already  explained  in  the  former  part 
of  this  article.  The  problem  of  the  Philosophy  of  the  Uncon- 
ditioned, as  sketched  by  Plato  and  generally  adopted  by  subse- 
qnent  philosophers,  is,  as  we  have  seen,  to  ascend  up  to  the  first 
principle  of  all  things,  and  thence  to  deduce,  as  from  their  cause, 
all  dependent  and  derived  existences.  The  Unconditioned,  as  the 
one  first  principle,  must  necessarily  contain  in  itself,  potentially  or 
actually,  all  that  is  derived  from  it,  and  thus  must  comprehend,  in 
embryo  or  in  development,  the  sum  of  all  existence.  To  reconcile  this 
conclusion  with  the  phenomenal  existence  of  evil  and  imperfection, 
is  the  difficulty  with  which  philosophy  has  had  to  struggle  ever  since 
philosophy  began.  The  Manichean,  by  referring  evil  to  an  inde- 
pendent cause,  denies  the  existence  of  an  absolute  first  principle  at 
all;  the  Leibnitzian,  with  his  hypothesis  of  the  best  possible  world, 
rirtually  sets  bounds  to  the  Divine  omnipotence ;  the  Pantheist 
identifies  God  with'  all  actual  existence,  and^  either  denies  the  real 
existence  of  evil  at  all,  or  merges  the  distinction  between  evil  and 
good  in  some  higher  indifference.  All  these  conclusions  may  be 
ali'ce  untenable,  but  all  alike  testify  to  the  existence  nf  the  problem, 


214  "^^^  Contemporary  Review, 

and  to  the  vast  though  iinsuccessfiil  efforts  -which  man's  reason  has 
juade  to  solve  it. 

The  reader  may  now,  perhaps,  understand  the  reason  of  aji  assertion 
wliieli  Jlr.  Mill  r^^ards  as  supremely  absurd, — namely,  that  we  must 
believe  in  tlie  existence  of  an  absolute  and  infinite  Being,  though 
unable  tf)  conceive  the  nature  of  such  a  Beir^.  To  believe  in  such  a 
IJeing,  is  simply  to  believe  that  God  made  the  world :  to  declare  the 
nature  of  such  a  IJeing  inconceivable,  is  simply  to  say  that  we  do  not 
know  how  the  world  was  made.  If  we  believe  that  God  made  the 
world,  \\n  must  believe  that  tliere  was  a  time  when  the  world  was 
not,  and  when  God  alone  existed,  out  of  relation  to  any  other  being. 
But  the  mode  of  that  sole  existence  we  are  unable  to  conceive,  nor  in 
what  manner  the  firet  act  took  place  by  which  the  absolute  and  self- 
existL-nt  gave  existence  to  the  relative  and  dependent,  "  The  contra- 
dictions," siiya  llr.  MUl,  "  wliicli  !Mr.  Mansel  asserts*  to  be  involved  in 
the  notions,  do  not  follow  from  an  imperfect  mode  of  apprehending  the 
Infinite  and  Absohite,  but  lie  in  the  definitions  of  them,  in  the  mean- 
ing of  the  wonla  themseh'cs."  They  do  no  such  thing :  the  meaning 
of  the  words  is  perfectly  intelligible,  and  is  exactly  what  is  expressed 
by  their  definitions  :  tlie  contradictions  arise  from  the  attempt  to 
combine  the  attributes  expressed  by  the  words  in  one  representation 
with  others,  so  as  to  fonu  a  positive  object  of  consciousness.  Where 
is  the  incongruity  of  saying,  "  I  believe  that  a  being  exists  possess- 
ing certain  attributes,  though  I  am  unable  in  my  present  state  of 
knowledge  to  conceive  the  manner  of  that  existence"  ?  Mr.  Mill,  at 
all  eventti,  is  the  last  man  in  the  world  who  has  any  right  to  complain 
of  such  a  distinction — Mr.  Mill,  who  considers  it  not  incredible  that 
in  some  part  of  the  univerae  two  straight  lines  may  enclose  a  si>ace,  or 
two  and  two  make  five ;  though  lie  is  compelled  to  allow  that  under 
our  pi-esent  laws  of  thought,  or,  if  he  pleases,  of  association,  we  are 
unable  to  conceive  how  these  things  can  ba 

It  is  wearisome  work  to  wade  thnmgh  this  mass  of  misconceptions ; 
yet  we  must  entreat  the  reader's  patience  a  little  longer,  while  we  say 
a  few  words  in  conclusion  on  perhaps  the  greatest  misconception  of 
all  —  though  that  is  bold  language  to  use  with  i-egard  to  Mr. 
Mill's  metaphysics, — at  any  rate,  the  one  which  he  expresses  in  the 
most  vehement  language.  Mr.  Mansel,  as  we  have  said,  asserts,  as 
many  othei-s  have  asserted  before  him,  that  the  i-elation  between  the 
conmumicable  attributes  of  God  and  the  corresponding  attributes  of 
man  is  one  not  of  identity,  but  of  analog}- ;  that  is  to  say,  that  the 
Divine  attributes  have  the  same  relation  to  the  Divine  nature  that 
the  hunuiii  attributes  have  to  human  nature.  Thus,  for  example, 
there  is  a  Divine  justice  and  there  is  a  Inmian  justice ;  but  God 
is  just  as  the  Creator  and  Clovemor  of  the  world,  having  unlimited 


The  Philosophy  of  t/ie  Conditioned.  2 1 5 

authority  over  all  His  creatures  and  unlimited  jurisdiction  over  all 
fteir  acts;  and  man  is  just  in  certain  special  relations,  as  havinj^ 
authority  over  some  persons  and  some  acts  only,  so  far  as  is  required 
for  the  needs  of  himian  society.     So,  again,  there  is  a  Divine  mercy 
and  there  is  a  human  mercy  ;  but  God  is  merciful  in  such  a  manner 
as  is   fittii^    compatibly   with   the   righteous  government    of    the 
universe  ;   and  man   is  merciful  in  a  certain  limited    range,   the 
exercise  of  the  attribute  being  guided   by  considerations  affecting 
the  welfare  of  society  or  of  individuals.     Or  to  take  a  more  general 
case :  Man  has  in  himself  a  rule  of  right  and  wrong,  implying  sub- 
jection to  the  authority  of  a  superior  (for  conscience  has  authority 
only  AS  reflecting  the  law  of  God) ;  while  God  has  in  Himself  a  rule 
of  right  and  wrong,  implying  no  higher  authority,  and  determined 
absolutely  h^  His  own  nature.     The  case  is  the  same  when  we  look 
at  moral  attributes,  not  externally,  in  their  active  manifestatiojis,  but 
internally,  in  their  psychological  constitution.     If  we  do  not  attribute 
ta  God  the  same  complex  mental  constitution  of  reason,  passion,  and 
Trill,the  same  relation  to  motives  and  inducements,  the  same  delibera- 
tion and  choice  of  alternatives,  the  same  temporal  succession  of  facts 
in  consciousness,  which  we  ascribe  to  man, — it  will  follow  that  those 
psycholc^cal  relations  between  reason,  Avill,  and  desire,  which  are 
implied  in  the  conception  of  human  action,   cannot  represent  the 
Krine  excellences  in  themselves,  but  can  only  illustrate  them  by 
auricles  from  finite  things.     And  if  man  is  liable  to  error  in  judging 
t^tibe  conduct  of  his  feUow-men,  in  proportion  as  he  is  unable  to  place 
himself  in  their  position,  or  to  realise  to  himself  their  modes  of  thought 
and  principles  of  action — -if  the  chUd,  for  instance,  is  liable  to  error  in 
jw^ing  the  actions  of  the  man,  or  the  savage  of  the  civilised  man, — 
sorely  there  is  far  more  room  for  error  in  men's  judgment  of  the 
TOJB  of  God,  in  proportion  as  the  difference  between  God  and  man 
i*  greater  than  the  difference  between  a  man  and  a  child. 

This  doctrine  elicits  from  Mr.  Mill  the  following  extraorduiary 
oiiburst  of  rhetoric : — 

"  I^  instead  of  the  glad  tidings  that  there  exists  a  Being  in  whom  all  the 
ezcelleiices  which  the  highest  human  mind  can  conceive,  exist  in  a  degree 
uieoneeiTable  to  tu,  I  am  informed  that  the  world  is  ruled  by  a  being  whoso 
«Kribates  are  infinite,  but  what  they  are  we  cannot  learn,  nor  what  are  the 
ponciples  of  hia  govemmeni^  except  that  'the  highest  human  morality 
which  we  are  capable  of  conceiving '  does  not  aanctiou  them ;  convince  mo 
of  it,  and  I  will  bear  my  fate  as  I  may.  But  when  I  am  told  that  I  must 
helieve  this,  and  at  the  same  time  call  this  being  by  the  names  whicli 
eipreu  and  affirm  the  highest  human  morality,  I  say  in  plain  terms  that  1 
will  not  Whatever  power  such  a  being  may  have  over  me,  there  is  one 
thing  which  he  shall  not  do  :  he  shall  not  compel  me  to  worship  him.  I 
will  call  no  being  good,  who  is  not  what  I  mean  when  I  apply  that  epithet 
to  my  fellow-creatures;  and  if  such  a  being  can  sentence  me  to  hell  for 
not  eo  calling  him,  to  hell  I  will  go." — (P.  103.) 


2 1 6  The  Contemporary  Review. 

We  will  not  pause  to  coinnieiit  on  the  temi>er  and  taste  of  this 
declamation ;  we  will  simply  ask  wlietber  Mr.  Mill  really  supposes  t]» 
word  good  to  lose  all  community  of  meaning,  when  it  is  applied,  aa  it 
constantly  is,  to  different  persons  among  our  "  fellow-creatures,"  witi 
espi-ess  reference  to  their  different  duties  and  difierent  qualifications 
for  performing  theni  ?  The  duties  of  a  father  are  not  the  same  as 
those  of  a  son ;  is  the  ■woi'd  therefore  wholly  eciuivocal  when  we  speak 
of  one  jierson  as  a  good  father,  and  another  as  a  good  soil  ?  Xay, 
when  we  s])eak  generally  of  a  man  as  good,  has  not  the  epithet  a  tacit 
reference  to  human  nature  and  human  duties?  and  yet  is  there  no 
community  of  meaning  when  the  same  epithet  is  applied  to  other 
creatures  ?  'H  aperj)  ttquc  to  toyov  to  oiKEiof, — the  goodness  of  any 
being  whatever  has  relation  to  the  nature  and  office  of  that  being. 
We  may  therefore  test  Mr.  Mill's  declamation  by  a  parallel  case.  A 
wise  and  experienced  father  addresses  a  young  and  inexperienced 
sou :  "  My  son,"  lie  says,  "  there  may  be  some  of  my  actions  which  do 
not  seem  to  you  to  be  wise  or  good,  or  such  as  you  would  do  in  my 
place.  Iteniembcr,  however,  that  your  duties  are  different  from  mine; 
that  your  knowledge  of  my  duties  is  very  imperfect ;  and  that  there 
may  be  tilings  which  you  cannot  now  see  to  be  wise  and  good,  but  which 
yon  may  hereafter  discover  to  be  so."  "  Father,"  says  the  son,  "  your 
principles  of  action  are  not  the  same  as  mine ;  the  highest  morality 
which  I  can  conceive  at  present  does  not  sanction  them  ;  and  as  for 
believing  that  you  are  good  in  anything  of  which  I  do  not  plainly  see  the 
goodness," — We  will  not  re-jjeat  Sir.  Mill's  alternative ;  we  will  only 
jisk  whethei"  it  is  not  just  possible  that  there  may  be  as  much  difference 
between  man  and  God  as  tliere  is  between  a  child  and  his  father? 

This  declamation  is  followed  by  a  sneer,  which  is  worth  quoting,  not 
on  its  own  account,  but  as  an  evidence  of  the  generosity  with  which 
Mr.  Mill  deals  with  the  supposed  motives  of  liis  ant^onists,  and  of  the 
accuracy  of  liis  acquaintance  witli  the  subject  discussed     He  says  :— 

"  It  is  worthy  of  rcniiirk,  that  tbe  clovibt  whether  words  applied  to  God 
have  thc^ir  human  signification,  is  only  felt  when  the  words  relate  to  his 
nioral  attributes ;  it  is  never  hcai-d  of  with  regard  to  his  power.  "We  are  never 
told  that  God's  omnipotence  must  not  be  supposed  to  mean  an  infinite 
degree  of  the  power  we  know  in  man  and  nature,  and  that  perhaps  it  does  not 
mea  i  iliat  he  is  able  to  kill  ns,  or  consign  us  to  eternal  flames.  The  Divine 
Pow!  is  always  interpnited  in  a  cumpletcly  human  signification;  hut  the 
Divine  Goo<iness  and  Justice  must  be  understood  to  be  such  only  in  an 
uniiiti'Ui  Mc  sense.  Is  it  unfair  to  surntise  that  this  is  because  those  vho 
speak  w  the  name  of  God,  have  need  of  the  human  conception  of  his  power, 
since  an  idea  whi(;h  can  overawe  autl  enforce  obedience  must  address  itself 
to  real  feelings  ;  but  are  content  that  his  goodness  should  he  conceived  only 
as  sometliing  inconceivable,  l»ecausc  they  are  so  often  required  to  teach 
doctrines  respecting  him  which  contlict  irreconcilably  with  all  goodness  that 
we  can  conceive  r' — (P.  101.) 

On   the   latter  part  of  this  pai-agraph   we   will  not   attempt  to 


The  Phihsophy  of  the  Condiiioned.  2 1 7 

comment.  But  aa  regards  the  former  part,  we  meet  Mr.  Mill's  con- 
fident assertion  with  a  direct  denial,  and  take  the  opportunity  of 
informing  him  that  the  conception  of  infinite  Power  has  suggested 
the  same  difficulties,  and  has  been  discussed  by  philosophers  and 
theologians  in  the  same  manner,  as  those  of  infinite  Wisdom  and 
infinite  Goodness.  Has  Mr.  Mill  never  heard  of  such  questions  as, 
Whether  Omnipotence  can  reverse  the  past  ? — ^\Vhether  God  can  do 
that  which  He  does  not  will  to  do  ? — ^Whether  God's  perfect  fore- 
knowledge is  compatible  with  his  own  perfect  liberty  ? — Whether  God 
conld  have  made  a  better  world  than  the  existing  one  ?  Nay,  has  not 
OM  critic,  in  this  very  chapter,  been  arguing  against  Mr.  Mansel  on 
the  question,  whether  the  Absolute  can  be  conceived  as  a  Cause  acting 
in  time :  and  what  is  tliis  but  a  form  of  tlie  question,  whether  power 
Then  predicated  of  God  is  exactly  the  same  thing  as  power  when  pre- 
dicated of  man  ?  Or  why  has  it  been  said  that  creation  ex  nihilo — au 
absolutely  first  act  of  causation — is  inconceivable  by  us,  but  from  the 
impossibility  of  finding  in  human  power  an  exact  type  of  Divine  power  ? 
To  attribute  discreditable  motives  to  an  opponent,  even  to  account  for 
unquestionable  facta,  is  usually  considered  as  au  abuse  of  criticism. 
What  shall  we  say  when  the  facts  are  fictitious  as  well  as  the  motives  ? 
Mr.  Mill  concludes  this  chapter  with  another  instance  of  that 
igioratio  clenehi  which  has  been  so  abundantly  manifested  throughout 
his  previous  criticisms.  His  opponent,  he  allows,  "  would  and  does 
idmit+hat  the  qualities  as  conceived  by  us  bear  some  likeness  to  the 
justice  and  goodness  which  belong  to  God,  since  man  was  made  in 
God's  image."  But  he  considers  that  this  "semi-concession"  "  destroys 
the  whole  fabric  "  of  Mr.  Mansel's  argument.  "  The  Divine  goodness," 
he  says,  "  which  is  said  to  be  a  different  thing  from  human  goodness, 
but  of  which  the  human  conception  of  goodness  is  some  imperfect 
Kfleiion  or  resemblance,  does  it  agree  with  what  men  call  goodness 
iathe  esseTtce  of  the  quality — in  what  c&nstituks  it  goodness  ?  If  it 
floea,  the  '  Kationalista '  are  right ;  it  is  not  illicit  to  reason  from  the 
toe  to  the  other.  If  not,  the  divine  attribute,  whatever  else  it  may  be, 
is  aot  goodness,  and  ought  not  to  be  called  by  the  name."  Now  the 
question  really  at  issue  is  not  whether  the  "  Rationalist "  argument  is 
licit  or  illicit,  but  whether,  in  its  lawful  use,  it  is  to  be  regarded  as 
uMible  or  fallible.  We  have  already  quoted  a  jwrtion  of  Mr. 
lUnael's  language  on  this  point ;  we  will  now  quote  two  more 
pwaages,  which,  without  any  comment,  M'ill  sufficiently  shew  how 
itteriy  Mr.  Mill  has  mistaken  the  purport  of  the  argument  which  he 
)u3  undertaken  to  examine. 

'We  do  not  certainly  know  the  exact  nature  and  operation  of  tho  moral 
•ttnbnteB  of  God  :  we  can  but  infer  and  conjecture  from  what  we  know 
1^  the  moral  attributes  of  man:  and  the  analogy  between  the  Finite  and  tho 

TOUL  Q 


2i8  The  Contemporary  Review. 

Infinite  can  never  bo  so  perfect  as  to  preclude  all  possibility  of  erroi  in  the 
process.  But  the  possibility  becomes  almost  a  certainty,  when  ai\y  one 
human  faculty  ia  elevated  by  itself  into  an  authoritative  criterion  of  religious 
truth,  without  regard  to  those  collateral  evidences  by  which  its  decisions 
may  he  modified  and  corrected."*  .  .  .  "Beyond  question,  every  donbt 
which  OUT  reason  may  suggest  in  matters  of  religion  is  entitled  to  ita  due 
place  in  the  examination  of  the  evidences  of  religion ;  if  we  will  treat  .it  as  a 
part  only,  and  not  the  whole  ;  if  we  will  not  insist  on  a  positive  solution  of 
that  which,  it  may  be,  is  given  us  for  another  purpose  than  to  bo  solved.  It 
is  reasonable  to  believe  that,  in  matters  of  belief  as  well  as  of  practice,  God 
has  not  thought  ht  to  anniliilate  the  free  will  of  man,  but  has  permitted 
speculative  dillicultics  to  exist  as  the  trial  and  the  discipline  of  sharp  and 
subtle  intellects,  as  He  has  jjeniiitted  moral  temptations  to  form  the  trial 
and  the  discipline  of  strong  and  eager  passions.  ,  .  .  Wo  do  not  doubt 
that  the  conditions  of  otir  moral  trial  tend  towards  good,  and  not  towards 
evil ;  that  human  nature,  even  in  its  fallen  state,  bears  traces  of  the  image  of 
ita  Maker,  and  is  fttted  to  be  an  instrunient  in  His  moral  government  And  we 
believe  this,  notwithstanding  the  existence  of  passions  and  appetites  which, 
isolated  and  uiirout  rolled,  appear  to  lead  in  an  opposite  direction.  Is  it  then 
more  reasonable  to  deny  that  a  system  of  revealed  religion,  whose  unquestion- 
able tendency  as  a  whole  is  to  promote  the  glory  of  God  and  the  welfare  of 
mankind,  can  havo  proceeded  fruni  the  same  Author,  merely  because  we 
may  be  unable  to  detect  the  same  character  in  some  of  its  minuter  features, 
viewed  apart  from  the  system  to  which  they  belong  l"t 

"We  have  now  considered  in  detail  all  that  part  of  Mr.  Mill's  book 
which  is  devoted  to  the  examination  of  Sir.  W.  Hamilton's  chief 
and  most  characteristic  doctrines — those  which  constitute  the  Philo- 
sophy of  the  Contliticmed.  The  remainder  of  the  work,  which  deals 
chiefly  with  subordinate  questions  of  psychology  and  logic,  contains 
much  from  which  we  widely  dissent,  hut  wliich  we  cannot  at  present 
submit  to  a  special  examination.  !Nor  is  it  necessary,  so  far  as  Sir  W. 
Hamilton's  reputation  is  concerned,  that  we  should  do  so.  If  the 
Philosophy  of  tlie  Conditioned  is  really  nothing  better  than  the  mass 
of  crudities  and  bhmders  whicli  ilr.  Mill  supposes  it  to  be,  the 
warmest  admirers  of  Hamilton  will  do  little  in  his  belialf,  even  should 
they  succeed  in  vindicating  some  of  the  minor  details  of  liis  teaching, 
li"  on  the  other  hand,  it  can  be  shown,  as  we  have  attempted  to  shew, 
that  Mr.  Mill  is  utterly  incapable  of  dealing  with  Hamilton's  philo- 
sophy in  its  higher  branches,  his  readers  may  be  left  to  judge  for 
themselves  whether  he  is  implicitly  to  be  trusted  as  regards  the 
lower.  In  point  of  fact,  they  will  do  Mr,  Mill  no  injustice,  if  they 
regard  the  above  sjicciniens  as  samples  of  his  entire  criticism.  We 
gladly  except,  as  of  a  far  higlier  order,  those  chapters  in  which  he  is 
content  witli  stating  his  own  views;  but  in  the  perpetual  baiting  of 
Sir  W.  Hamilton  which  occupies  the  greater  part  of  the  volume,  wo 
recognise,  in  general,  the  same  captiousness  and  the  same  incompe- 
tence which  we  have  so  often  had  occasion  to  point  out  in  the  course 
of  our  previous  remarks. 

"  Eampton  Lccturee,"  p.  167,  Fourth  Edition.  t  I^^^-,  P-  IGfl. 


Th£  Philosophy  of  the  Conditioned.  219 

It  18,  we  confess,  an  unpleasant  and  an  invidious  task,  to  pick  tir 
pieces,  bit  by  bit,  the  work  of  an  author  of  high  reputation.  But 
Ife  Mill  haa  chosen  to  put  the  question  on  this  issue,  and  he  has  loft 
'those  who  dissent  from  him  no  alternative  but  to  follow  his  exajiiple. 
He  haa  tasked  all  the  resources  of  minute  criticism  to  destroy  piece- 
meal the  reputation  of  one  who  has  hitherto  borne  an  honoured  name 
in  philosophy :  he  has  no  right  to  complain  if  the  same  measure  is 
meted  to  himself: — 

"  Xcque  enim  lex  &?quior  ulla 
Quam  nccis  artifices  arte  pcrire  Etih." 

But  it  is  not  so  much  the  justice  as  the  necessity  of  the  case  which 
¥6  would  plead  as  our  excuse.  Mr.  Mill's  method  of  criticism  has 
reduced  the  question  to  a  very  narrow  compass.  Either  Sir  W. 
Hamiltoni  instead  of  being  a  great  philosopher,  is  the  veriest  blunderer 
that  ever  put  pen  to  paper,  or  the  blunders  are  !Mr.  Mill's  own.  To 
those  who  accept  the  fii-st  of  tliese  alternatives  it  must  always  remain  a 
marvel  how  Sir  W.  Hamilton  could  ever  have  acquired  his  reputation ; 
how  he  could  have  been  designated  by  his  illustrious  opixment,  Cousin, 
M  the  "  greatest  critic  of  our  age,"  or  described  by  the  learned  Brandis 
as  "almost  unparalleled  in  the  profound  knowledge  of  ancient  and  mo- 
(lem  philosophy."  The  marvel  may  jwrhaps  disappear,  should  it  be  the 
case,  as  we  believe  it  to  be,  that  the  second  alternative  is  the  tme  one. 

But  even  in  this  case,  it  should  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  blow 
will  by  no  means  fall  on  Mr.  Mill  with  the  samu  weight  with  which 
he  draigned  it  to  fall  on  the  object  of  his  criticism.  Sir  W.  Hamilton 
had  devoted  his  whole  life  to  the  study  of  metaphysics ;  he  was  pro- 
baUymore  deeply  read  in  that  study  than  any  of  his  contemporaiies  ; 
Mid  if  all  his  reading  could  produce  nothing  more  than  the  confusion 
find  self-contradiction  which  Mr.  Mill  imputes  to  him,  the  result 
would  be  pitiable  indeed.  Mr.  MiU,  on  the  other  hand,  we  strongly 
suspect^  despises  metaphysics  too  much  to  be  at  the  pains  of  studying 
than  at  all,  and  seems  to  think  that  a  critic  is  duly  equipped  for  his 
task  with  that  amount  of  knowledge  which,  like  Dogberrj-'s  reading 
snd  writing,  "  comes  by  nature."  His  work  has  a  superficial  clever- 
ness which,  tt^ether  with  the  author's  previous  reputation,  will"  insure 
it  a  certain  kind  of  popularity ;  but  we  venture  to  predict  that  its 
wtiination  by  its  readers  will  be  in  the  inverse  ratio  to  their  know- 
ledge of  the  subject  But  Mr.  Mill's  general  reputation  rests  on 
gJDtmds  quite  distinct  from  his  perfonnances  in  metapliysics ;  and 
ttoi^  we  could  hardly  name  one  of  his  writings  from  whose  main 
principles  we  do  not  dissent,  there  is  hardly  one  which  is  not  better 
fitted  to  sustain  his  character  as  a  thinker  than  this  last,  in  which 
tie  fatal  charms  of  the  goddess  Necessity  seem  to  have  betrayed  her 
champion  into  an  unusual  excess  of  polemical  zeal,  coupled,  it  must 
be  added,  with  an  unusual  deficiency  of  philosophical  knowledge. 


FREDERICK   WILLIAM   IIOBERTSON. 


Hff  aail  uneri  af  Frtderirk  W,  SnUfrltou.  3t.A  .  fKfinalait  «f 

1M«  CbnpULa  tj  Iht  EmboM}-  at.  Berlin,      la  !>«  Vtlotam,  wiO, 

StroivM.    Bj  tliB  lat*  Rrif  F""P"I«'.'K  W.  RoBJSCTOfi,  M-A 

bent  of  Trlnitf  Chuprl,  ErlghtUD.    yint  Sttjvs  (13th  £<ldtl<ni|. 

iotiei  [lltli  Edltimi],  Thirct  Seiin  (llth  Edltiiiu;,  F'ourtb  Sdiih  (2u<I 

EaiMunl. 
KipntUorit    Lcffur/j  on   Ikf  EpirfltJ    to  ttw   ryriMhiarr-       Bj   t-he    ]■'[« 

Bav.  Fkeueuci-e  W.  Ruhekison,  ILA.    Third  EdilUin. 
IfWurw    n>iJ    .lif'(r,v*i'i    I'n    Liirrary    oiuf  SkcUiI    Tiipici.     Bj    the   U 

Ul'V.  FltEtJEnitK  W.  UoBERTtioK,  M.A .    Nuw  EHiUnn. 
An  Aiialjirii  o/ Mr  Triutiftoti't  "  In  Mrmfriiim."    hf  l]in  late  He»,  Pit, 


(2Ull 

1 


'T^HIRTEEN  yenra  ago  tli^e   derg}Tiiau  of  a  projnietar)'  cbappl  at 
X     Brighton  died^  and  was  buried  with  unraistakeable  dismonstra- 
J;ion3  of  sorruTv.     A  ministiy  of  slk  yeais  had  endrared  him  to  liis 
people,  mid  he  had  itikun  sntticietit  part  iu  public  and  local  questions 
to  be  recognised  beyond  tlie  boitiids  uf  his  cougregation.     Cut  he  had 
ouly  published  one  sermon,  and  so  many  tlergjijien  had  lectured  at 
Mechanics'  Institutes,  nnd  spoken  on  Ecclesiastical  Titles  Eilla  and 
early  closing  of  shops,  1hat  not  much  heed  Was  taken  of  one  clergjj^ 
man  more.     As  for  any  lagtijig  iatfuence,  his  life  seemed  to  hftf^H 
ended  at  the  gtuve  abruptly,  imniat.ui'ely,  for  he  died  young.     As  for 
any  mark  ty  \«i  traced  by  Idiu  ki  the  reliyious  tliouglit  of  EuglanJ, 
EnjjUuid  liad  never  heard  of  him.    In  a  j-ear  or  two  a  volume  of  hia 
sermons  was  jmblished,  wit!i   the  driiwliaeka   inseparable   from   all 
posthumous  publications.     He  had  not  ^mtteu  them  before  they  -wore 
preached,  but  after  they  were  preached  he  had  condensed  them  for 
■  Slime  absent  friend? — a  task  whieli  he  liad  imposed  on  himself  with 
^xucedinr^f  dislike,  and  executed  witU  great  siviftness    and   brevity,^^ 
J.lther  volumea  followed,  more  imperfect,  less  authoritative,  less  likely  t^H 
repreaeut  liiui  nt  hla  best,  to  I'ulfll  his  req^uirementa  of  what  a  sermon 


Frederick  William  Robertso ft,  221 

ought  to  be, — too  closely  packed  and  merely  su^estive,  if  not  skeleton- 
like, to  be  popular.  Yet  their  circulation  spread  with  extraordinary 
rapidity;  they  ran  even  with  the  last  novel ;  they  became  a  staple  of 
the  circulating  library ;  Tauchnitz  published  them,  at  Leipsic,  in  his 
collection  of  British  authors ;  in  America  and  at  home  their  popu- 
larity was  unprecedented;  and  a  thirteenth  edition,  last  autumn, 
proves  that  it  is  steadily  maintained.  Mr.  Robertson  of  Brighton 
was  soon  as  prominent  a  name  as  the  Church  could  point  to.  People 
were  so  ready  to  catch  at  almost  anything  he  had  said,  that  there 
was  danger  of  publishing  too  much,  of  letting  tlie  world  look  on 
his  most  private  and  crude  thoughts,  of  trusting  to  the  uncertainty 
of  casual  reports  by  those  who  had  heard  liim,  of  being  driven  by  his 
very  fame  to  be  ungenerous  to  it.  There  was  an  eager  looking  for 
some  particulars  of  his  life,  as  of  a  man  who  had  strangely  dropped 
away  unknown,  though  surely  among  the 'best  worth  knowing  of  his 
time ;  and  all  the  while  there  was  a  steady  growth  and  penetration  of 
his  influence,  preparing  men  to  receive  his  "  Life  and  Letters  "  with 
an  interest,  curiosity,  and  welcome  accorded  only  to  a  few. 

Some  rare  and  singidar  power  must  have  dwelt  in  this  modest 
working  clergyman,  to  account  for  the  story  of  a  fame  so  unique  in 
our  pulpit  literature  ;  and  whatever  may  be  the  secret  of  his  influence, 
we  are  not  likely  to  have  further  means  of  judging  than  these  now 
before  us  in  his  Life  and  AVorks. 

Frederick  Itobertson  was  born  in  London  in  181G,  and  passed  his 
childhood  in  Leith  Fort,  where  his  earliest  recollections  were  of  "  my 
pony,  and  my  cricket,  and  my  rabbits,  and  my  father's  pouiters, 
and  the  days  when  I  proudly  carried  his  game-bag,  and  my  ride 
home  with  the  old  gamekeeper  by  moonhght  in  the  frosty  evenings, 
and  the  boom  of  the  cannon,  and  myfatiier's  orderly,  the  artilleryman 
who  used  to  walk  with  me  hand  in  hand."  He  spent  a  happy,  bright 
life  between  Leith,  Beverley,  and  Tours,  and  at  sixteen  entered  the 
Edinburgh  Academy.  He  had  an  iron  constitution,  and  excelled  in  all 
athletic  games,  and  he  was  at  the  same  time  studious,  quiet,  sensitive, 
imaginative.  His  love  of  truth  was  intense  and  passionate,  only 
equalled  by  his  noble  scorn  for  meanness,  his  purity  and  courage. 
After  winning  distinctions  at  the  Academy,  he  attended  the  Edinburgh 
University  for  a  session,  and  at  eighteen  was  articled  to  a  sohcitor 
at  Bury  St.  Edmunds.  A  year  of  this  work  was  enough  to  test  its 
uncongeniality  and  prevent  its  becoming  his  profession.  His  father 
was  anxious  he  should  enter  the  Church:  he. thought  it  would  be 
natural  to  the  deep  religious  feeling  of  his  son's  character ;  but  at  last 
the  army  was  settled,  to  Eobertson's  delight.  "I  was  rocked  and 
cradled,"  he  said  afterwards,  "to  the  roar  of  artillery,  and  the  very 
name  of  such  things  sounds  to  me  like  home  j  a  review,  suggesting  the 


222 


Tlte  Cmilemporary  Review. 


coiicHptiun  of  a  real  batLk-,  impresses  me  to  tears."     His  naine  ws 
placed  oil  tlie  list  of  a  cavalry  ragimeut  for  India,  aiid  he  threw  hiniself 
■with  liis  usual  eriei^'  and  passion  into  the  needJ'ul  jiitparfttioii,  stmlifil 
Iiidian  politics  and  people*,  Indian  cainpBigns.  aud  Indliui  Christianity. 
Tie  had  jKisitively  declined  the  Churth,  saying.  "  AnylUing  hut  that ; 
I  oDi  Bot  fit  ibr  it."     T(i  his  father's  iirjfiiig  he  had  returned  the  final 
niply,  "  No,  iifVtir/'     But  ivhile  liia  t-oinniission  was  dylayed.  accident 
threw  him  iu  the  way  of  the  present  Bishop  of  Cashel,  who  tried 
ihasuiule  liitti  from  the  anny.     "  If  1  had  not  met  a  c&ttaiii  person,^ 
lie  WTot«  afterwards,  "  1  should  uot  have  ehauged  my  profossioi] ;  if 
had  not  known  a  certain  lutly  I  alioulJ  uot  pruhahly  have  met  tldl 
peraon :  it"  tlmt  laily  had  not  liad  a  deliuate  dauyihter  who  was  dig 
turlied  hy  the  harkiuy  of  my  dog ;  if  my  dog  had  not  harked  the 
night,  I  should  now  hiivc  Ijeeii  in  the  Dragoons,  or  fi^rtilizing  the  sc 
nf  IndtEL    Who  ean  siiy  that  these  thiuya  ^Yu^e  not  nnlered?"     H< 
left  the  decision  to  his  father;  was  malriculiited  at  Oxford;  and 
fortnight  afterwards  he  received  the  otter  of  a  cavah'y  coniinissioi 
CharactcristiiJtdly,  he  never  tlinehcd  fiijiu  his  new  life.     He  would  nf 
have  chosen  it;  but  he  would  not  go  back  from  it.     "He  waa  the 
most  inllexihlo  jierson,  with  all  his  almost  uiorbid  delicacy  of  feeling 
— an  iron  will,  iiuposaihle  to  move  when  it  was  fixed  hy  jiriiiciple." 

It  must  have  cost  him  singular  pain :  not  because  he  was  not  a  Clii 
tian,  fur  hLs  ambition  had  been  to  confess  Christ  and  do  gocul  in  the 
army;  but  I>ecft«3e  Ids  whole  life  was  stnmy  to  the  citllingof  a  soldier 
Untd  he  died  the  soldier  spirit  would  assert  itself.     He  aug^'eated  to 
his  father  that  he  luij^lit  take  a  mihtary  chajilidncy.     He  continnally 
borrowed  Ida  illustrate  pus  from  the  Ijanack  and  the  laimp,  and  WfU^ 
afritid  "  they  are  too  military."    He  longed  "  fur  a  suldiei's  spirit  in  thJH 
Chui-ch."     "  I  wish,"  lie  wi-ute,  idter  Chilliau wallah,  "  I  had  l»i;eu  with 
my  own  wundLvus  gallant  regiment  in   tliat  campaign."     Walkina^ 
home  one  evening,  at  Bri<<htuu,  in  his  di-agoon's  cloak,  he  tlioii^ht  1>^| 
"  ought  to  he  lying  in  it.  at  res.t.  at  Moodkee.  whwe  the  Thiid  fuught 
so  gallantly."     "  Ufteu  with  must  uuclerital  emphasis  did  he  espit 
his  wish  to  die  sword  in  hand  a^inat  a  French  invader/'     For  soi 
time  be  could  scarcely  pass  a  soldier  in  the  atreet  without  obsen'i 
— "  \^'eIl,  so  I  am  to  have  uotliing  to  do  witli  them ; "  or,  "  I'oc 
fellowg !    Few  care  for  then-  soula  1 "     To  the  last  he  "  coidd  not  s( 
a  regiment  maureuvi-e  nor  ortilleiy  in  motiou  without  a  choking  sen-' 
satiun,"  and  would  rather  ■'  lead  a  forloru  hope  tlian  mount  the  pid}>itu 
stairs."  1 

It  was  with  a  soldier's  aelf-siicrilice  to  duty  tliat  ho  went  to  Oxford  : 
it  was  the  spirit  of  a  soldier  that  he  earried  lliere  into  Ids  life,  con- 
feaaing  Chi'iat  with  a  bold  and  manly  fervoiu'.     His   I'^ideuco 
ISrasttnose  pas.ged  simply  away.     But  fur  his  scrupulous  modesty 


tne 
lio^ 

iria^l 


Frederick  William  Robertson.  223 

xvigbt  have  taken  honours :  but  for  his  sensitive  reticence  he  might 
Jiave   made   many   friends.      He  read    carefully,   attended  lectures 
sixteen  hours  in  the  week,  varied  theology  with  Bucklaud's  geolo- 
gical class,  mastered  Plato,  Aristotle,  and  liutler,  spoke  often,  though 
Tiot  effectively,  at  the  "  Union,"  noted  the  drift  of  the  prevailing  currents 
of  thought,  and  recoiled  from  what  he  thought  the  donnishness  of 
"University  life.    The  minute  detail  and  technical  knowledge  asked  by 
the  schools  seemed  to  him  a  waste  of  time  and  mental  power,  yet 
liis  Greek  compositions  evince  exquisite  taste  and  grammatical  accu- 
racy.    If  he  chafed  against  the  system,  it  was  rather  against  what  he 
conceived  to  be  its  spirit  than  its  requirements.      Moral  tone  and 
large  and  comprehensive  ideas  were  what  he  valued  first,  and  the 
men  he  sought  were  the  thoughtful  and  devout.    He  felt  afterwards 
that  he  might  have  done  more.    Without  yielding  his  conviction  that 
the  prestige  of  Univeraity  honours  "  is  foi^otten  or  slightly  looked  upon 
by  the  Ifu^  woi'ld,"  he  advised  others  that  tlie  mental  liabits  they 
demand  "  are  incapable  of  being  replaced  by  anything."     To  choose 
hia  own  course  of  reading  he  felt  was  "  utterly,  mournfully,  irrepar- 
ably wrong.      The  excitement  of  theological  controversy,  questions 
of  the  day,  politics,  gleams  and  flashes  of  new  paths  of  learning, 
led  me  at  full  speed  for  three  years,  modifying  my  plans  perpetually. 
jVw  I  would  give  £200  a  year  to  have  read,  on  a  bad  plan,  chosen  for 
me,  but  steadily." 

His  first  curacy  was  at  Winchester,  where  "  liis  way  of  life  was 

most  regular  and  simple.     Study  all  the  morning ;  in  the  afternoon, 

hard  fagging  at  visitation  of  the  poor,  in  the  closest  and  dirtiest 

streets ;  his  evenings  were  spent  alone,  but  very  often  with  his  rector." 

He  devoted  himself  to  the  Sunday  schools,  and  trained  tlie  teachers 

Mmself.    In  his  study  he  applied  liimself  to  Hebrew  and  Biblical 

criticism,  and  thought  afterwards  he  had  developed  his  mind  with  more 

iiiieUty  at  Winchester  than  anywhere.     But  he  says,  "I  begin  to 

think  and  tremble  as  I  never  did  before,  and  I  cmiiwt  live  to  Christ. 

My  heart  is  detached  indeed  from  earth,  but  it  is  not  given  to  Him. 

All  I  do  is  a  cross,  and  not  a  pleasure."     His  morbid  self-analysis 

tonnented  him  with  bitter  thoughts,  for  his  impulses  still  sprang 

more  from  duty  than  from  love,  and  his  service  was  measured  by 

law.     After  a  year  of  this   eager,   energetic,  but   unsatisfied  life, 

lie  was  seized  mth  the  impression  that  the  consumptive  malady 

of  his  family  was   upon   him.      It   Klled   him   with   a   depressing 

"lethargy  of   body   and   apatliy  of  mind,"   from  which   Ids  rector 

advised  him  to  escape  by  relaxation  from  work  and  change  of  scene ; 

and  having  sorrowfidly  passed  his  examination  for  priest's  orders,  he 

turned  his  steps  to  Geneva.     There,  after  a  short  stay,  he  married  j 

and  on  returning  to  England,  accepted  the  curacy  of  Christ  Church 


224  ^'''^  Contemporary  Rcvieiv. 

at  Chelteuhain,  where  he  remaiiietl  for  almost  five  years,  feeling  it 
"far  less  satisfactoiy  than  Winchester,  partly  from  the  superficial 
nature  of  the  place,  partly  from  the  effect  of  the  temptations,  and 
frittering  away  of  tinie,"  but  bound  to  it  by  the  most  devoted  attach- 
ment to  his  rector,  Mr.  Boyd.  Here  also  his  gifts  as  a  preacher  came 
to  be  recognised,  though  in  no  way  adequate  to  their  largeness  and 
brilliance.  And  here  the  half-morbid  sadness  of  his  character 
burdened  his  heart  with  the  fear  that, — ■ 

"  As  it  is,  I  live  and  die  unheard, 
'\^''itIl  a  most  voiceless  thought,  sheathing  it  like  a  sword." 

He  believed  his  sermons  to  be  uuiutelligible.  He  fancied  "  duties 
left  undone  whicli  others  might  deem  only  too  well  performed." 
In  his  diary  "  there  are  long  lists  of  poor  and  sick  whom  he  visited, 
and  accounts  of  sums  paid  out  of  a  small  income  to  clear  off  the  debts 
of  struggling  workmen  ;"  and  in  the  same  diary  he  ^^Tites,  "  Low  and 
dispirited.  I  mouni,  not  that  I  cannot  be  happy,  but  that  I  know  not 
what  to  do  nor  liow  to  do  it."  He  accuses  himself  of  neglect  of  the 
poor,  and  yet  a  friend  of  that  time  recollects  "his  calling  on  me  just 
before  liis  going  abroad,  as  late  as  ten  o'clock  at  liiglit,  and  taking  me 
with  him  a  distance  of  three  miles,  througli  such  a  storm  as  Lear 
was  out  in,  to  visit  a  poor  disconsolate  old  man  who  seemed  to  have 
simt  himself  out  from  human  sympathies,  and  therefore  all  the  more 
enlisted  his."  But  the  conviction  of  fadure  pressed  too  heavily  to  be 
shaken  off.  If  men  talked  to  him  of  the  seed  he  was  sowing,  he  would 
point  to  the  pavement,  and  ask  "if  he  might  reap  a  harvest  there!" 
His  health  suffered ;  and  at  last  he  \m\s,  compelled  t*}  trj'  again  the 
healing  and  rest  of  foreign  travel.  After  ■walking  for  six  weeks 
through  the  Tyrol,  lie  lingered  for  nine  at  Heidelberg,  where  he  took 
duty  for  tiie  English  chaplain.  Fi-om  Schaffliausen  he  wrote  to  his 
wife — "  More  and  more  I  feel  that  1  am  not  a  minister  and  never 
can  be  one."  But  the  resumption  of  active  work  ami  the  intei-est  of 
the  congregation  restored  his  mind  to  a  liealtliier  tone.  Socinians  and 
Swedenborgians  and  people  who  had  long  been  absent  from  church 
listened  to  his  teaching,  yielded,  and  besought  him  to  remain.  He 
liad  resigned  his  curacy  at  Clieltenhani,  and  was  free  to  choose,  but 
he  recognised  that  his  true  work  was  iu  England,  and,  rejecting  the 
pleadings  at  Heidelberg,  he  begged  his  fatlier  to  look  out  some 
country  parish,  where  he  coidd  deal  witli  the  poor  only,  and  have  the 
work  to  himself, — "  My  mind  has  gone  througli  a  complete  revolntion 
in  many  things ;  I  am  resolved  now  to  act  and  feel  and  tliink  alone." 

Not  long  after  his  return,  he  wrote  to  the  Bisho])  of  Oxford,  whom 
he  Imd  known  at  AVincliester,  asking  him  for  employment.  He  wjia 
at  once  oifered  the  cluirch  of  St.  Elibe's,  Oxford ;  and,  differhig  a-s  he 


Frederick  William  Robertson.  225 

Jid  so  widely  from  the  bishop's  views,  with  characteristic  manliuess, 
Tie  waited  on  him,  and  "  frankly  told  him  that  he  did  not  hold,  and 
therefore  could  not  preach,  the  doctrine  of  baptismal  regeneration. 
The  bishop  replied, '  I  give  my  clergy  a  large  circle  to  work  in,  and  if 
you  do  not  step  beyond  that  I  do  not  interfere.     I  shall  be  glad,  how- 
ever, to  hear  your  views  on  the  subject.'     An  hour's  conversation 
followed,  and  at  the  close  his  lordship  said, '  Well,  Mr.  Eobertson,  you 
have  well  maintained  your  position,  and  I  renew  my  offer.' "    During 
the  three  months  he  served  St.  Ebbe's,  "  the  rough,  poor  people  of  the 
parish  made  themselves  over  to  him  at  once;"  though  the  church  was 
in  one  of  the  worst  parts  of  the  town,  "  the  uudei^raduates  rushed  to 
Iiear  liim  in  crowds,  and  hiing  breathlessly  on  every  word  he  uttered ;" 
and  the  depression  with  which  he  revisited  Oxford,  with  "its  cold, 
formal,  forbidding  conventionalisms,"  yielded  a  little  to  these  unexpected 
j>roofs  of  influence.     He  had  scarcely  begun  to  feel  the  brightness 
stealing  over  the  shadows  of  his  life,  when  Trinity  Chapel,  Brighton, 
■was  offered  to  him  by  the  trustees,  and  out  of  a  chivalrous  sense  of 
duty  to  his  bishop  distinctly  refused.     On  the  offer  being  renewed,  he 
jiut  aside  the  treble  emolument,  the  importance  of  the  position,  the 
possible  congeniality  of  the  work,  and  difficulties  that  had  arisen 
about  St.  Ebbe's,  and  left  himself  entirely  in  the  bishop's  hands.    "  He 
replied  that  he  thought  it  my  duty  to  accept  Trinity  ;  so  I  go,  reluc- 
tantly.    .     .     .     Tlie  half-way  house  is  behind ;  and  if  Brigliton  be 
another  form  of  Cheltenham,  home  cannot  be   very  far  off."    The 
incidents  of  tliis  brief  curacy  are   alike  honourable  to  bishop  and 
curate ;  refreshing  in  days  when  public  characters  are  so  hidden  by 
the  dust  of  party  strife ;  yet  no  more  than  might  be  expected  from 
naen  in  whom  the  feeling  of  a  Christian  gentleman  is  stronger  than 
tlie  narrowness  of  an  ecclesiastic.     It  is  by  his  work  at  Brighton  that 
Mr.  Kobertsoiv  A^-iU  be  remembered;  it  was  there  that  his  too  brief 
ministry  ripened,  his  powers  were  develoi^ed,  his  teaching  was  enun- 
ciated in  ite  fullest  form.     He   entered   on   it  sadly,   "  with   small 
hope,"  he  says,  "and  much  misgiving:"  lie  iivrites  of  "great  misgiv- 
ings as  to  that  kind  of  success  which  a  proprietary  chapel  needs :" 
he  felt  that  he  had  "  only  a  few  years  to  live."     It  was  a  contrast 
to  the  enthusiastic  and  almost  fierce  enei^  with  which  he  flung  him- 
self into  the  work  at  Winchester.     His  life  and  mind  had  each  gone 
tlirough  a  complete  revolution  in  many  things. 

All  the  influences  that  his  early  religious  life  acknowledged  were 

from  the  Evangelical  school  of  thought.    It  was  the  aspect  of  Christian 

doctrine  and  life  with  which  he  was  familiar,  which  imconsciously 

worked  itself  into  his  mind  and  stemped  iteelf  upon  his  conduct,  the 

most  earnest  and  the  fairest  side  of  the  Church  to  wliich  he  could  look 

in  his  boyish   days.     The  manifold  activities,   and  benevolent  and 


226 


Tfi£  Conte7np07'ary  Review, 


chivalrous  euterprises.  aad  waiin  iiii]>cilHi;s,  and  the  generol  plnj-  ^md 
etir  of  lite  in  the  kingdom  of  God  in  the  England  of  the  iiitiet<?enth 
(■■eiitmyj  «"ere  a^aociatod  witli  the  EvaugcUtial  pailyi  Its  leaders  hud 
been  iX'iil  find  almost  heroic  rnen,  of  viycirous,  true,  and  healthy  natures, 
tharoughly  possessed  with  the  ideaa  they  wrought  out,  thoraughly 
Rinipk^  find  lUrect  in  their  relation  to  God,  honeet  and  loyal  and 
surpassinj^ly  earnest  in  their  relations  to  men.  Their  inlluence  liad 
]Missed  into  the  age,  and,  through  it,  afiected  the  generation  beyond 
them,  Newmau  and  Arnold  it  affected  directly. each  in  his  omi  way; 
Itobertson  indirectly  ;  nay,  it  would  he  hard  to  find  any  gre4it  thinkei 
and  leader  nf  opinion  among  us  in  these  last  forty  years  that  it  haa 
not  alfected,  and  wiio,  from  whatever  point  to  wluch  recoil  hiis  forced 
him,  ^VDidd  not  ai^knowledgu  ita  help  as  jJi'atel'ulIy  yierhaps  as  New- 
man. Two  elements  of  it  made  a  deep  impression  ou  liohertsou — ^its 
imworldhness  aud  spirituality.  He  learned  from  it  hia  revei-euce  for 
tlie  Bihle,  hia  hahit  of  Biide  study,  hia  conviction  of  the  rwxlity  of 
prayer.  When  dressing,  he  was  accustomed  to  commit  to  memory  a 
certain  numherof  verses  of  the  New  Testament,  and  "said  afterwards  to 
a  frieiid,  that  no  stumer  was  any  Christian  doctrine  or  duty  mentioned 
in  convei-sation  than  all  the  passages  Waiiag  on  the  point  seemed 
tu  array  themselves  in  order  before  him."  He  liked  tu  mark  the 
iucideiit^  of  his  life,  and  connect  them  with  the  persomil  wutidiiiig 
aud  bve  of  God.  He  thought  Brainerd's  Life  stood  (done  as  a  speci- 
men of  biography,  and  read  in  it  and  Henry  Martyu  daily.  Ho 
lingered  over  hooks  of  devotithu.  He  would  often  retire  for  [jrayer, 
and  WTote,  "  I  can  always  see,  in  uncertainty,  the  leading  of  OikI's 
liaiid  after  pitiyer,  when  everyfclnng  seems  to  be  made  jdain  before  the 
eyes,"  He  set  apart  certain  subjaets  to  be  pmyed  over  ou  each  day 
of  the  week,  He  held  the  pre-udllcnmal  reign  of  Clirist,  and  inlo- 
I'ested  hin].self;in  Jewish  niissiona.  As  he  Ibund  this  EvangeliuiU 
systtrn  in  hooks,  as  he  saw  it  in  his  friends,  as  he  lueasured  it  by  its 
great  eervices,  he  yielded  to  it  without  resistance,  Mith  the  f\ill  per- 
suasion of  its  nobility  and  worth.  He  must  have  felt  its  intensity 
of  spirilLial  life,  its  directnea*,  its  syiupathy  witli  human  ^iimt  and 
sorrow,  the  man!y,  bixmd,  sinewy  individuality  of  its  leaders.  Jlut 
when  he  went  tr,'  Oxford,  it  was  the  traditional  aud  not  tlie  primitive 
Evangiilieal  school  that  he  found,  a  ]mrtv  whose  life  waa  ftlitjuly  ent«?r- 
ing  on  decay.  Tlie  older,  and  l^^raver.  and  m-tnlier  men  had  passed 
away,  in  whom  defects  were  obscured  by  groat  services  and  8elf-tt.)n- 
secration.  In  the  lesser  men  the  weaknesses  and  deticieneies  weiv 
exaggf^iiited  and  palpable.  Wiat  had  once  been  a  transitory  jar  !i.iiil 
dialocjition  of  fiieling  was  now  a  [lerpetual  irritjmt.  The  Evangelical 
body  was  confesaedly,  and  already  becondng  boastfully^  naiTOw. 
It  had   originated  a  movement  of  spiritual  and  moral  earnestness, 


Frederick  William  Robertson.  227 

not  of  intellectual  life.  Starting  from  unhesitating  and  comfortable 
certainty,  certainty  that  could  be  grasped  in  fixed  and  clearly  cut  pro- 
positions, it  had  little  sympathy  with  the  doubts  that  ■weigh  heavily 
on  many  souls.  It  would  have  all  things  stereotyped  and  settled  as 
its  leaders  had  left  them ;  it  would  aUow  of  no  advance,  no  develop- 
ment, no  variation.  It  looked  suspiciously  on  science;  was  apt  to 
be  intolerant,  to  arrogate  to  itself  the  exclusive  possession  and 
interpretation  of  the  truth.  The  sameness  of  type  in  it  grew  to  be 
monotonous :  whatever  was  weak  and  petty  came  up  to  the  surface. 
It  was  already,  as  parties  will,  ringing  the  changes  on  phrases  of  which 
^  full  meaning  had  been  lost,  that  became  now  party  Shibboleths. 
It  had  risen  up  to  protest  against  mere  duU  orthodoxy  and  the 
polished  worldliness  and  heartless  Christianity  and  fashionable  Socin- 
lanism  of  the  last  century.  As  a  movement,  it  had  spent  at  least  much 
rf  its  force.  It  was  being  checked  on  its  way  through  the  Church  by 
Mction  with  coarser  and  more  worldly  minds,  the  less  ardent  and  less 
holy.  A  new  movement  had  already  risen  against  it.  Keble's  Hymns 
were  supplanting  Newton's :  St.  Mary's,  at  Cambridge,  was  no  longer 
packed  with  gownsmen  to  hear  Simeon:  but  at  Oxford,  the  best 
intellects  of  the  University  were  drawn  to  St  Marj^'s  by  Newman. 
Mr.  liobertson  encountered  the  two  movements  in  conflict.  He 
curied  to  Oxford  his  instinctive  love  and  passionate  desire  for 
tiuth,  a  reckless  courage  in  pursuit  of  it  over  any  new  and  even 
poilous  ground  of  inquiry,  a  mind  of  great  activity  and  keenness, 
ud  a  high  and  chivalrous  ideaL  Even  then  he  held  the  truth 
to  be  sometMng  infinitely  higher  than  systems;  and  commg  in 
contact  with  both  the  religious  parties  at  the  University,  he  com- 
mitted himself  at  first  to  neither.  He  found  good  and  evil  iu  both ; 
lie  saw  that  each  was  asserting  truths  that  tiie  other  was  obscuring ; 
lie  longed  to  see  these  truths  in  unison.  Yet  he  seems  to  have  turned 
ahnoflt  fiercely  against  the  "Tracts  for  the  Times:"  his  copies  of 
"Tract  XC."  and  Dr.  Pusey's  "  Letter  to  the  Bishop  of  Oxford"  are 
laigely  annotated  by  his  answers ;  he  formed  a  society  of  seven  to 
connteract  the  tendency  of  the  Tracts  by  prayer  and  conversation  over 
the  Bible ;  he  called  the  movement  "  accursed,"  because  he  believed 
"the  curse  of  God  would  fall  upon  it."  There  was  some  reason  for 
his  strong  speaking.  Mr.  Newman's  sermons  had  exercised  their  com- 
mon fascination  on  his  intellect ;  many  sympathies  and  tastes  instinct- 
ively led  him  to  the  Tractarian  party ;  he  was  thrown  into  "  a  long 
trance,"  "  a  season  of  utter  and  inexpressible  darkness."  He  felt  the 
need  of  a  strong  recoiL  He  had  calmly  examined  the  Tracts  by 
the  help  of  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles ;  he  had  convinced  himself  that 
thdr  theory  of  the  Church  was  wrong ;  it  was  a  conviction  for  life ; 
»od  as  long  as  he  lived,  "the  Oxford  delusion  heresy,"  as  he  styled  it, 


2  28  The  Contemporary  Review. 

had  no  more  determined  oppoueut — when  it  came  in  his  way.  He 
wrote  some  severe  and  impetuous  words;  but  he  joined  in  no  crj 
against  the  men  whose  \'iews  lie  loudly  condemned,  he  spoke  cordiaUj 
of  tlieir  manliness  and  devoutness.  Tliey  were  in  error ;  but  he 
called  them  no  names,  met  them  without  abuse,  strove  in  this,  as  In 
all  else,  to  discern  and  acknowledge  the  truth  that  gave  consistency 
and  hold  to  the  falsehoods.  With  the  teaching  of  the  Tracts  as  a 
system  he  had  no  sympathy.  In  his  sennons  he  opposed  Sacrament- 
alism,  Apostolical  Succession,  and  the  fixed  authority  of  the  early 
Church ;  and  he  speaks  of  Tractarianism  as  out  of  date,  as  the 
reproduction  of  a  hfe  in  death.  And  the  system  he  had  held  by 
seemed  to  have  little  sympathy  with  him.  Over  a  mind  so  subtle  and 
quick  and  eager,  a  nature  so  sensitive  to  doubt,  it  woidd  have  but  a 
feeble  intellectual  hold  at  the  best.  It  seemed  to  repress  and  not  to 
meet  such  restlessness  and  ■\'ague  seeking  of  human  souls.  And  when 
this  nature  was  met  by  the  drifting  impulses  of  thought  at  the 
University,  act-ed  on  by  the  new  forces  that  were  moving  in  the 
Church,  the  hold  of  the  system  would  be  feebler  still. 

At  Winchester  there  was  little  change.  In  a  prayer  written  at 
coUege  there  are  the  touching  words,  "  fatlier,  I  am  like  a  child, 
blown  about  by  every  wind  of  doctrine ;"  but  he  soon  writes,  "  Even 
the  Tractarian  heresy  has  vanished  from  my  mind  amid  the  stemei 
conflict  with  worldly  passions  and  pure  atheism."  It  was  at  Chel- 
tenham that  the  change  seems  to  have  been  wrought  gradually  out, 
and  by  such  severe  pangs  and  agony  of  mental  conflict  as  to  leave  a 
deep  mark  upon  his  life.  He  was  repelled  by  the  superficial  nature  ol 
the  place,  and  hurt  by  the  sharpness  and  narrowness  of  religious  party 
feeling ;  ho  found  himself  "  coming  into  collision  with  conventional 
phraseology  and  several  received  views."  The  ideal  he  had  formed  oi 
the  Evangelical  school  was  rudely  shocked ;  and  lie  says,  half  bitterly, 
of  some  of  their  newspajKirs  and  extreme  partisans,  "  They  tell  lies  in 
tlie  name  of  God,  others  tell  them  in  the  name  of  the  devil — that  is 
the  only  difl'erence."  He  thinks  the  state  of  the  Evangelical  clergy 
lamentable.  "  I  see  sentiment  instead  of  principle,  and  a  miserably 
mawkish  rcHgion  superseding  a  state  which  once  was  healthy.  Theii 
adherents  I  love  less  tlian  themselves,  for  they  are  but  the  copies  ol 
their  faults  in  a  larger  edition."  On  the  other  hand,  he  thinks  Dr. 
Pusey's  doctrine  on  the  Eucharist  "just  as  dangerous,  but  much  more 
incredible  than  transubstantiation."  "  With  the  Tractarians,"  he  says 
again,  "  it  is  bdlum  inierncdnum."  He  quite  agrees  with  a  corre- 
si>ondent  that  "  we  ought  to  pi-each  tlie  Calvinistic  doctrines  in  the 
proportion  in  which  they  are  found  in  Scripture,  connected  always  witli 
election  unto  holiness ;"  but  he  becomes  more  possessed  of  the  idea  ol 
Christ  as,  in  His  life  and  aspect  to  humanity,  the  sum  of  the  doctrine 


Frederick  William  Robertson,  229 

of  God.  With  the  progressive  development  of  thought,  niid  a  lai^r 
readily  questions  meet  him,  some  of  tliem  no  more  tliun  new  aspocts 
of  old  and  apparently  settled  questions ;  and  he  can  find  no  sohition, 
^d  is  too  honest,  inquisitive,  and  loyal  to  the  truth  to  be  satisfied 
with  what  may  pretend  to  be  solution,  and  will  fare  any  ililliculty, 
pain,  or  be\*'ilderment,  so  that  truth  may  be  won.  Carlyle  and  Cler- 
mm  metaphjTsics  come  into  his  reading,  detaching  him  still  nmre 
from  the  past  and  driving  him  forward.  "  It  is  an  awful  moment," 
he  said  afterwards,  "  when  the  soul  begins  to  find  that  the  jirops 
on  which  it  has  blindly  rested  so  long  are,  many  of  them,  rotten, 
and  be^;iDS  to  suspect  them  all;  when  it  begins  to  feel  the  nothing- 
oesa  of  many  of  the  traditionary  opinions  which  have  been  i-eccived 
Kith  implicit  confidence,  and  in  that  horrible  insecurity  begins  to 
doubt  whether  there  be  anything  to  believe  at  all."  Clinging  to  sym- 
pathy like  a  woman,  shrinking  sensitively  like  a  woman  from  uieutal 
pain  and  alienation,  lie  found  himself  Incoming  a  theological  Islimael. 
His  party  did  not  understand  him,  frowned  upon  his  misgivings,  and 
"profanely  bade  him  stifle  doubt;"  his  teachers  terrified  him,  his 
friends  melted  from  him ;  and,  hard  as  it  was  to  break  witli  the  piMt  and 
struggle  through  the  dark  with  doubt,  it  was  made  harder  by  loneli- 
ness, suspicion,  and  misunderstanding,  by  the  wrenching  of  affections 
Uiat  bad  grown  into  his  soul.  He  seemed  to  himself  insincere ;  bis 
ministry  a  vast  failure ;  perpetually  bewildering  jwople,  and  "  saying 
U«  thing  I  do  not  mean — teaching  and  preaching  when  my  own 
heart  is  dark,  and  lacks  the  light  I  endeavour  to  imjiart."  "The 
eiamination  of  particular  forms  of  belief  involved  him  in  the  examina- 
tion of  a  great  deal  more.  "When  the  rains  descended,  and  tlie  fliKids 
came,  and  the  wind  burst  upon  his  house,  he  must  needs  go  d(;wn  and 
loci  at  its  foundation."  Life  and  work  at  Cheltenham  were  no  lon''er 
possible ;  for  the  body  craved  rest  as  much  as  the  jaded  mind.  Wlieii 
atmad,  it  seemed  at  first  little  better;  "restless,"  he  writes,  "whether 
I  sleep  or  waka  .  .  .  Take  one  single  night  as  a  specimen — the 
n^t  before  last.  I  dreamed  that  some  one  was  telling  me  that  all 
ffly  friends  were  mourning  over  the  deterioration  of  my  sermons,  &c., 
their  onintelligibility  and  emptiness.  I  woke,  went  asleep  again,  and 
then  was  arraigned  for  duties  left  tuidone — sick  unvisited,  schools 
ntai^t,  &C.,  with  a  minuteness  of  detail — names  I  never  heard  of, 
ic^  all  of  which  it  would  be  childish  to^lieve."  He  anxiously  insisted 
that  his  difficulties  sprang  up  from  witliin,  that  they  were  suggested 
by  his  own  reading  and  thought,  and  the  freer  spirit  of  inquiry.  Xo 
UBD  could  be  unaware  of  them  who  Itad  read  theohigical  and  philr^O' 
^lical  controversy,  who,  "at  tUfierent  times,  has  lived  in  the  atmf>- 
^•here  of  thought  in  which  Jonathan  E>lwanls,  Plato,  Lucretius, 
^h«Du  Browne,  Cariyle,  Emerson,  and  Fichte  live<i, — who  haa  steepen  1 


230  Tft£  Contemporary  Review. 

his  aoTil  and  memory  in  Byron's  strong  feelings — ^who  has  walked  with 
Newman  years  ago  to  the  hrink  of  an  awful  precipice,  and  chosen 
ratlier  to  look  upon  it  calmly,  and  know  the  worst  of  the  secret  of  the 
darkness,  than  recoil  with  Newman,  in  fear  and  tenderness,  back  to  the 
infallibility  of  Itomanism." 

That  there  was  a  morbid  and  imdue  sensitiveness  at  the  bottom  of 
much  that  he  felt  about  Clieltenham  and  the  ministry  no  one  can 
doubt.  The  habit  of  introspection,  natural  to  a  spirit  like  his,  was  as 
fatal  to  his  peace  as  the  shattering  of  his  previous  system  of  thought ; 
and  it  was  not  till  lie  fell  into  work  at  Heidelberg  that  his  letters 
recovered  calmness  and  justness  of  tone.  Nor  woidd  that  have  been 
possible,  even  then,  had  not  his  intellectual  and  spiritual  ferment  been 
subsiding.     He  Iiad — 

" fought  his  doubts  and  gathered  strength ; 

He  would  not  make  his  judgment  blind ; 
lie  faced  the  spectres  of  thu  mind. 
And  laid  them." 

Tlie  light  was  breaking  more  rapidly  than  he  had  hoped,  and 
when  he  entered  on  his  I'eal  life-sen-ice  at  Brighton,  the  old  order 
had  already  changed — giving  place  to  the  new.  It  was  {Mitly 
tlie  change  from  passivity  to  activity  of  thought  He  had  held 
the  system  he  had  been  taught,  but  it  had  never  become  part  of  him- 
self. It  was  ready  to  his  hand,  and  he  had  not  rejected  it ;  but  it  was 
in  no  way  worked  up  in  his  own  mind.  So  long  as  his  mind  was  not 
deeply  stirred,  and  the  problems  he  hatl  to  face  had  no  visible  root  in 
his  own  existence,  it  seemed  to  answer,  as  well  at  least  as  he  fancied 
any  system  could  answer.  But  when  his  mind  was  roused  and  he  was 
driven  to  grasp  the  truth  dh-ectly,  and  for  himself,  the  system  as  snch 
gave  way.  He  lias  sketched  the  struggle  in  his  sermon  on  "  The 
Loneliness  of  Clmst : " — "  Tlierc  is  a  moment  in  every  tnie  life^ — to 
some  it  comes  very  early — when  tlie  old  routine  of  duty  is  not  large 
enough ;  when  the  parental  roof  seems  too  low,  because  the  Infinite 
above  is  arcMng  over  the  soid ;  when  the  old  formulas  in  creeds, 
catechisms,  and  articles  seem  to  be  narrow,  and  they  must  either 
be  thrown  aside,  or  else  transformed  into  living  and  breathing 
realities."  Many  a  young  man  is  passing  through  a  milder  form  of 
the  same  revolution;  comes  to  a  crisis  when  his  thoughts  elnde 
the  control  and  ordering  of  the  old  dogmatic  propositions ;  finds 
liimself  drifting  rudderless  into  tlio  dark ;  if  he  bares  his  heart  is 
shunned  or  scolded  or  branded,  and  is  left  to  seek  his  own  way,  or 
patiently  drift  somehow  into  light.  Well  for  tliose  who  find  some 
worthier  aspect  of  the  Church,  whom  it  does  not  treat  with  dogmatic 
and  unphilosophic  rebuke,  in  whom  it  recognises  the  effects  of  a  dis- 
turbed and  inquisitive  age,  and  in  its  own  strength  of  certainty  holds 


Frederick  William  Robertson.  23 1 

out  to  them  the  help  of  sympathy.  Their  doubt  and  temporary  be- 
wildennent  may  not  be  the  fault  of  the  system.  They  have  accepted 
it  as  traditionally  right,  but  they  have  not  proved  it,  are  not  masters 
of  it,  find  it  to  tlieni  no  better  than  a  cumbrous  Goliath's  sword  that 
has  been  hung  up  unused  in  the  priestly  sanctuary.  The  fault  lies 
in  their  apprehension  of  the  system,  which  had  never  yet  been  con- 
nected in  a  living  way  with  the  strivingg  and  results  of  their  own 
thoughts.  It  may  be  the  very  system  that  they  will  finally  embrace  ; 
but  necessity  is  laid  upon  them  of  finding  that  out,  necessity  of  active 
and  developed  powers,  which  by  tlie  very  life  that  is  in  them  yield 
pain. 

Such  development  of  thought  is  natural,  and  to  higher  minds 
essential  But  circumstances  may  greatly  stimulate  it,  and  to  Mr. 
Eobertson  the  circumstances  were  not  wanting.  If  the  change  showed 
the  growth  of  his  powers,  and  how  men  "  rise  on  stepping-stones  of 
their  dead  selves,  to  higher  things,"  it  was  also  witness  to  a  change 
in  the  religions  thought  of  the  country.  The  fixity,  and  earnestness, 
snd  untroubled  faith  of  Evangelicalism  had  been  a  welcome  rest, 
and  there  were  many  whom,  in  its  naiTowest  aspect.,  it  continued  to 
satisfy.  But  it  could  not  stay  tlie  rapid  advance  of  thought  and 
adaitific  culture,  nor  prevent  fresh  ideas  from  entering  tlie  domain  of 
theolt^.  Mr.  Robertson's  mind  was  one  of  the  likeliest  to  catch 
these  new  impulses ;  his  party  in  the  Church  was  one  of  the  last  to 
acknowledge  them.  An  insensible  alienation  sprang  up — a  feeling  of 
iadation,  and  afterwards  of  bitterness.  He  recognised  the  need  of  a 
wider  view  of  Ufe,  a  profounder  view  of  revelation,  than  was  familiar 
to  those  about  him.  Starting  from  tlie  human,  he  passionately  longed 
to  Bee  it,  at  every  point,  in  harmony  with  the  Bivine.  The  specula- 
tions of  philosophy,  the  residts  of  science,  the  deeper  thoughts  of 
human  souls,  could  not  belong  to  a  world  outside  of  tlie  Bible,  i^ath 
which  it  had  no  concern.  They  coidd  not  be  merely  a  worldly  element 
«id  obfitmction  to  the  truth.  If  the  Bible  could  find  no  room  for  them, 
the  thought  and  science  of  the  time  would  march  on  independent  of 
the  Bible,  secretly  hostile  to  it.  No  exconmiuuication  and  protest  of 
the  Church  would  forest  them.  Could  the  Church  be  right  to  exclude 
them?  Was  there  not  something  Divine  in  thought  itself— in  the 
efibrt  to  arrange  and  comprehend  all  outward  phenomena,  to  penetrate 
through  them  up  to  the  laws  whereby  God  impressed  His  "ivill  upon 
the  universe  ?  Could  all  these  be  set  down  as  merely  secular,  and 
was  there  no  clue  and  place  for  them  in  the  kingdom  of  God  ?  "  That 
Christianity  is  true,  that  Christ's  character  is  high,  that  to  do  good  is 
better  than  to  do  wrong,  I  suppose  are  axioms.  Such  points  never 
seemed  imcertain  to  me,  except  in  moments  of  very  bad  dyspepsia. 
■   .    ,     But  suppose  a  man  puts   the  question,   ir/w   was   Christ? 


232  The  Contemporary  Review. 

\\liat  are  miracles  1  What  do  you  mean  by  inspiration  ?  Is  the  resur- 
i-ection  a  fact  or  a  mytli  ?  "What  saves  a  man — his  own  character  01 
that  of  another  ?  Is  the  next  life  individual  consciousness,  or  con- 
tinuation of  the  consciousness  of  the  universe  ? "  These  were  somt 
of  the  questions  which  the  time  was  continually  forcing  upon  th( 
heed  of  the  Church,  which,  to  minds  like  Mr.  Eobertson's,  de- 
manded a  wiser  answer  and  on  broader  grounds  than  Church  parties 
were  disposed  to  give.  The  answer,  he  conceived,  was  clear  to  him 
now.  It  had  come  to  him  through  much  darkness,  and  a  lonj 
conflict  that  wore  down  his  spirit.  The  shock  he  felt  at  finding 
his  old  system  break  up  had  loosened  for  the  time  his  hold 
on  everything,  and  left  him  with  only  the  prayer  of  Ajax  on  his 
lips.  "NVhen  he  came  to  Brighton  he  felt  that  his  prayer  had  been 
answered,  tliat  his  faith  rested  on  absolutely  sure  foundations,  thai 
the  worst  of  the  puzzle  was  solved,  that  the  revelation  of  God  waf 
hostile  to  sin  alone,  that  it  furnished  the  true  principles  for  the  final 
development  of  humanity.  His  preaching  from  that  time  assumed  itf 
distinctive  features  and  force  ;  like  his  own  picture  of  St.  Paul,  "  he 
had  a  heart,  a  brain,  and  a  soul  of  fire;"*  and  if  ever  there  was  a  man 
wliose  bearing  and  character  added  weight  to  his  teaching,  it  was  he. 
His  personal  qualities  were  more  like  those  of  ideal  knighthood 
than  for  a  busy  world  in  a  busy  century.  His  loyalty  to  truth  and 
honour,  and  his  friends ;  his  absolute,  ready,  yet  often  torturing,  aelf- 
sacrifioc ;  liis  chastity  of  heart,  from  w^hich  all  impurity  seemed  tc 
slink  away  discarded  and  rebuked ;  his  dauntless  courage,  his  thought- 
ful and  delicate  courtesy  at  whatever  cost  to  himself,  his  passionate 
reverent  worship,  were  features  essentially  chivalrous.  Exquisitelj 
sensitive,  he  was  also  widely  sympathetic,  and  those  who  came  in  nc 
nearer  contact  with  him  than  the  pulpit  felt  that  he  underatood  theii 
secret,  that  they  could  trust  and  confide  in  him.  HJs  position  as  fl 
teacher  filled  him  with  an  awe  that  passed  into  his  teaching,  and 
made  him  shrink  from  anything  frivolous  and  unworthy.  His  con- 
versation was  brilliant,  yet  intensely  modest.  "I  have  seen  him,' 
said  a  friend,  "  take  a  flower,  and  rivet  tlie  attention  of  his  listeners 
with  a  glittering  stream  of  eloquent  and  glowing  words,  which  ht 
poured  forth  without  premeditation  and  almost  in  a  soliloquy."  Bui 
he  never  spoke  for  display;  and  if  he  was  expected  to  shine,  would 
shrink  into  the  most  icy  reser\'e.  His  features  and  bearing  were 
marked  by  exceeding  refinement  and  delicacy.  In  the  pulpit,  he 
was  "  free  from  trick  and  affectation  in  maimer,  voice,  and  gesture. 
He  remained  long  in  prayer  during  the  hymn  which  preceded  the 
sermon,  and  then  stood  up  with  eyes  so  closed  that  they  seemed 
sunk  into  his  head."     Mr.  Brooke  must  describe  what  followed : — 

•  "  Ij;ttiirCB  on  the  Episllea  to  the  Corintliiaiifi,"  p.  CDP, 


* 


* 


Frederick  Wiiiiam  Robertson.  233 

'^  If  the  iiiOKt  toiuiuunng  i'lni]Li(!iJCo  IVir  tin.'  !:]j]g]iwh  pcupk-  fjc  that  of  tlu' 

niiiii  wlio  is  uU  Tiut  luneti'ivd  by  bis  ^xc-ittinu'iit,  but  wku,  tit  the  very  point 

pf  beiny  mtistcii'd,  iLiiat*!i-s  liitnsiilf — appiirently  cool  vliik:  \w.  is  at  a.  wlutelipBt, 

Ri  as  in  iiijiki!  tliD  ainJienue  ginw  witb  tbu  tiif,  aiii!  at  tlie  Htune  time  r(3a|ie*t 

■elf'-pas9(3aeive  p<nver  of  tbL'  omtor,  this  nmn  iK^ing  alwiiys  fiilt  as  grmtor 

\\w  ihiui'h  fediiiga, — if  that  be  the  oloqiii.>iicr  which  mi.>Bt  tells  ujicm  the 

n^ish  nation,  h^'  liad  that  p]o(|uettCL'.     H<?  BpolvLi  iiuihT  tnuHPiidous  exciti'- 

iiiciit.  but  it  was  excitj?nient  reiiiwd  in  by  will.     Hi'  liiilil  in  his  huml,  when  lie 

Vi:;iui  hia  sernion,  a  Bmall  slij)  tif  papi:?r,  with  ii  few  notes  upon  it.     He 

K.'ffiTt-il  to  it  now  ami  then,  but  l>eft»rt  ten  miiiHtes  hiul  gone  by  it  was 

.Bht^l    to   uBelu^i^ne^   iii    liis  gmpp ;    fui'   he   kjiit  bi.-i   tingera   toj^ntliBr 

orei-  it  ais  be  knit  bia  wonla  over  hi.*  thought.     His  ^entiiie  waa  enbdued  : 

eiiinetinjes  a  slow  mfition  nf  hiR  han<l  iijnviLrds  ;  smnetimea  bcmling  fnrward, 

his  \xaA  ilrooping  over  the  pul]Ht ;  sionictimes  erecting  himsolf  to  his  full 

bKight  with  11  sucKb.-ii  motion,  oa  if  upraisoLi  by  the  power  nl"  tlie  thought  he 

»poke.     His  vuicf — It  musical,  low,  ele^ir,  pi-nttmUvi;  voiiie^aebioin  roae  ; 

fluit  wbwi  it  (lid,  it  Won  in  n  deep  volume  of  sound,  wbith  wns  not  loml,  but 

trtiird  liise  a  great  IwU.      It  tbnllcd  also,  but  that  w:Ls  not  so  much  triim 

fi*liu>;  H8  fn.Mii  tbi^  rrpWssion  of  feeliny.     Towards  the  end  of  his  Ininistty 

lie  wiw  w«.iiit  to  Htaud  almost  motionh'ssly  en<Lt  in  th^  pulpit,  ivith  bis  bandn 

luifwly  lyiuj-  by  bis  sides  or  jjiasping  bis  yuwn  ;  bis  pale,  thin  IVt-,  and  tall, 

i^uinciiitvd  fonu  sftiiiinj,',  as  b»'  sjxike,  tt>  Ije  f^lmnuE*  its  alabiisLrT  glow«  whi^u 

lit  up  by  ;m  inward  fLn?.     And,  iadi^ed,  Jn'art  and  hr.tin  wero  on  firu,     \\v- 

w»s  bfliny  self-iunBiimed.     Kvefy  HCTnion  in  those  latl«r  days  burnt  up  h 

l">rtioin  of  his  vitid  powtr/' 

Id  tliia  Briglitou  piJpil  he  preitched  thus  at  a  wliite  Iieat*  fnr  iiearly 
sis  years  to  a  crowd  of  timti^'litlul  ami  e^irnpst  racii  and  women,  of 
Ik  lowest  cliias  iiinl  llie  htyhi-st,  a  cungix'j'atiou  in  whicii  each  itidi- 
vidim!  woa  attracted  to  himself,  where  aonie  came  from  infidelity  and 
laany  from  doubt  that  lind  ucit  yet  I^ecome  rlisbelief,  aiul  i-acli  fflt  thy 
uiysteriniis  attraction  ui'  11  nature  that  Rynijmthized  witb  them  in  their 
Jttting«st  and  weakest  mood?,  and  that  penetTated  with  friendliness 
irjto  secrets  of  tlieir  heart  they  scarcely  venlui'ed  to  breathe  tu  thcia- 
selves.  It  was  a  life  of  little  oiitft-ard  interest.  OatsiJy  the  pul^jit, 
it*  chief  incidents  were;  ft  lecture  or  tl^'o  at  the  Athena;nm  and  a  lec- 
ture or  two  to  the  working  men.  Snl^u^in;5^  the  tortare  of  a  sensitive 
lieart  constantly  and  i:iKlely  wruu^r_  intenae  mentaE  eJfoi-l.  c|inckly  con- 

•  "la  Dccwfiber  ^1850)  nloUiC  he  preaclicd  lisLecR  tifuea — mostly  oil  tht  Advent  of 
Chrut.  He  dc!iv*ri!il  lo  crowi^o-d  congTega'ionB  on  Friday  niominga  four  Advent  lecturti 
ot. Chrirtimuty  in  contaci  «'iih  the  Greek,  thif  Itumnn,  Ibu  Karboriur,  and  thfi  Jpw,  wluiL 
*«re  ill  tlieii  way  unique-  Ho  jii^i'^t'^^'i  ^^  Sunday  moriiing^  enuh  iwnnoijs  d»  '  Tha 
Uoins  of  ReuliKiiiK  Tho  Suiiond  Advml,'  '  The  Prini-ijilc  of  Uio  SpiTituol  Ilnrvcst,'  nud 
'Tip  IxHie-iiiirs*  of  Chriat.'  In  tKy  nftemtxins  lie  finietii'd  liis  k-cturM  un  tLe  Auts  of  the 
Apcritles,  irilli  whiLh  he  hud  begun  the  year.  Towards  the  end  of  th-e  moalli  lie  prcaf-hiid 
-TO  the  day  of  public  inoamiug  for  the  tiucun  Dowiif:i.'r — ihn  fjaljr  mteuoii  pwlliaht'd 
iminp  his  lifirtiiur — '  The  larneSite'B  Gmvft  in  n  Foreign  Laud/  "  WU-.li  It  is  rt-natnibercd 
Hal  iLese  fiiTTuuti*  wore  \\x*:  purest  ^old  fi-!>i[i  tlio  uiLnt  of  his  brain;  that  die  ^Advent 
i"-turTO  weiro  of  thrmsclTcs  suifluiunt  to  create  <i  bnllinnt  reputiLtioii ;  and,  "  to  tonipletu 
Ihi*  U'l'i'iunt  of  ouo  rnonlfi's  iiitpIlflL'timl  work,  that  nliHost  evpry  dny  tiu  wns  enpaged  in 
Jrrpatiiig  the  |iiipil«  uf  liic  Tminiiig  S<;hcKil  for  L'lanii nation,  it  i»  oalojiialiiiig  Uiat  hu  WU 
1*  awre  morbid  in  fwlitie  ftttd  outworn  iu  bud;-." — Lijt  tttiil  Letfirt,  L  228-4). 

VOL.  r.  It 


234 


The  Cont^nporary  Reiikw. 


Sliming  the  eiiep^'  of  body  and  Ijraui,  brought  it  to  a  pTematiiTO  end- 
He  was  iu  tlie  lmt>it  of  "  buruinn;  liia  own  suioke,''  a  dangerous  on« 
for  a  man  of  liis  tenipertimeut.  \  melkuieholy  crept  over  iiim  tlmt 
sometimes  sunk  into  gloom ;  partly  the  mehinulioly  of  iirofonnder 
thought^  of  H  more  intense  sympathy  with  men  ;  partly  of  the  sliadow 
of  disease.  "  It  is  cjiiite  heart-aching  tu  hear  yuu  preaob."  an  old 
acquaintance  said  to  hira;  "  it  is  no  longer  the  Imght,  bappy  Mr. 
Koitertson."  And,  h«  says,  "she  was  right;  that  the  shadows  of  life 
had  settled  down/'  "  Yon  mistook  me,"  lie  writes,  "  in  thinking  1  did 
not  syinpa.tlii2:e.  A  Jew  yuars  ago,  when  I  felt  less,  you  would  liave 
"been  more  satisfied,  ...  I  no  longer  wear  my  heart  upon  my 
sleeve  '  for  daws  to  peek  at."  But  there  is  not  a  conversation,  there  is 
not  a  Ijook  ]  read,  there  is  not  a  visit  I  pay,  that  does  not  cut  deep 
traces  iu  the  'Calais'  of  my  heart."  The  Vicar  of  JSrigliton,  on  grounds 
intelligible  only  to  himself,  refused  to  noiuinate  a  curate  whom  the 
c-ougi'egatiuu  hai[  pressed  thtdr  minister  to  select,  iuid  rather  than 
suffer  an  luiwarrantable  imputation  to  rest  upon  his  friend,  Mr. 
EnlKrt.soii  performed  the  ditty  himself  For  six  moiithe  he  endured 
the  most  exquisite  torture.  The  flisease  wjis  in  tbe  brain,  and  he 
felt  liow  it  ^vould  end :  "  The  causes  are  irremediable,  jwid  they  must 
go  on  worVinrr  to  their  consummation."*  Tlie  manuscript  of 
one  of  1)18  last  lectures  Ls  hlnttcd  with  a  aolitfiry  tear.  He  hsid 
"  acarcely  manhood  enough  to  hold  a  pen,"  "  Life,"  he  writes  to 
another,  "  jnw  been  for  a  month  nne  long  pain  and  Wi^ior.  At 
night  sleepless  pain,  by  day  cliangc*  of  pniwerlcssncsa  fi'om  two  chairs 
to  the  sofa,  and  from  the  Sofa  to  the  gi-ound,"  "  But  worse  to  him 
than  the  pnin  was  the  prostration  of  all  mental  foire,  tbe  obliteration 
of  large  spae&i  from  the  itieinoTy,  and  the  loss  nf  itll  power  of  atten- 
tion. He  retained,  however,  to  the  last  his  deep  deliylit  iu  the  beauty 
of  God's  world.  He  got  up  once  when  scarcely  able  to  move,  at 
four  (;'do(.'kj  and  crept  to  the  window,  '  tm  see  the  Iteautiful  morning,* 
.  .  .  A  night  OF  two  before  he  died  he  dreamt  that  Ms  two  sisters 
earae  to  cniisTi  him."  At  last,  on  a  Sunday  iii  August — it  was.  1853 
— his  old  rector  at  the  Kdinliurgh  Academy,  who  was  taking  his  place 
at  Trinity  Chapel,  jumouneed  to  the  congregation  that  their  minister 
was  dmwing  near  to  death.  "That  night  the  pain  retunied  with  bitter 
violence,  Feebly  crjiiig  at  intenala,  '  My  ilod,  ujy  Father — iny  God, 
my  Father !'  lie  lived  for  two  houra  in  a  moital  agony,  during  wliich  he 
never  loet  clear  consciousness.  Hi.?  mother,  w^fc,  and  one  frienil,  with 
his  physician,  watched  over  him  with  devoted  euru.  At  last  they 
Bought  to  relieve  him  by  changing  his  position.  But  he  could  not 
euflui-e  a  touch.  '  I  c-onnijt  bear  it,"  he  !jaid ;  *  let  me  rest.  I  must 
die.    Let  Clod  do  his  work."    Tliese  were  bis  la.<jt  w-oixls.    Immediately 

•  "Letter,"  ii.  2ie. 


Frederick  William  Robertson.  235 

after,  at  a  few  minutes  pEist  midnight,  all  was  over."  He  Tvas  buried 
"  in  a  hollow  of  the  Downs  he  loved  so  well,"  where  "  a  careful  hand 
keeps,  even  in  winter,  flowers  always  blooming  on  his  grave."* 

There  will  be  no  division  among  men  about  the  rare  beauty  of 
his  character.  Kvery  one  who  read  his  Sermons  felt  the  man 
that  spoke  in  them  ;  and  this  Life  has  only  lifted  the  veil  to 
let  us  see  that  man  a  little  closer.  He  will  take  at  once  his 
rightful  place  in  the  gallery  of  English  worthies.  His  extreme 
sensitiveness  may  have  often  weakened  and  did  certainly  pain 
him;  it  cro^vTied  his  best  efibrts  with  thonis,  haunted  him  with 
magnified  views  of  his  failings,  and  led  him  more  than  once  into 
a  morbid  despondency ;  but  it  was  only  one  side  of  that  exquisite 
purity  and  delicate  feeling  which  made  him  shrink  with  an  instinctive 
recoil  from  what  would  scarcely  liave  been  tliought  coarse  or  mean  in 
another,  by  which  he  entered  more  than  other  men  into  the  purity  of 
Christ,  by  wliicli  he  set  forth  that  feminine  side  of  His  character 
that,  as  perfect  Man,  he  conceived  Him  to  poases.s,  and  apprehended 
those  delicate  shades  of  meaning  in  His  words  that  make  thom  so 
vivid  and  so  marvellously  touching,  Tlie  courage  with  which  ho 
forced  his  horse  once  to  a  daring  leap,  and  again,  preached  ■with  a  fixed 
directness  to  a  congregation  of  Vanity  Fair,  because  something  whis- 
pered him — "Kobertson,  you  are  a  craven ;  you  dare  not  speak  here 
"what  you  believe !"  may  have  bordered  on  rashness  or  defiance,  but  it 
was  the  spirit  of  a  fearless  nature,  and  a  moral  bravery  that  dared 
everything  for  the  right,  that  prevented  him  flinching  one  jot  from  his 
convictions,  that  ner\'ed  him,  patiently  fighting,  at  tremendous  odds, 
the  battle  of  his  life,  and  when  that  life  was  tortured  unto  death, 
made  him  "  lie  on  the  rug  alone  in  his  room,  his  head  resting  on  the 
bar  of  a  chair,  clenching  his  teeth  to  pre^■ent  the  groans  which  the 
ravaging  pain  could  never  draw  from  his  manliness."  "When  he  took 
part  with  the  working  men  before  such  sjTupatliy  was  common; 
pleaded  in  1848  for  the  true  brotherhood  and  equality  of  man ;  spoke 
to  the  Chartists  against  the  biiUot,  and  to  the  infidels  against  infidel 
books ;  and  at  a  time  of  great  class  asperity,  declared  what  he  con- 
ceived to  be  the  mission  of  a  minister  of  the  Cliurch  of  England  ;"f"  or 

•  In  the  grey  dawn  of  the  morning  nfipr  the  funera],  a.  group  wob  ecen  weeping  ovor  tho 
new  grave.  It  was  a  mechanic,  with  his  wife  and  children,  dressed  in  auch  mourning  as 
they  could  purchase.  The  man  and  his  wife  had  been  rank  iafidcU  wheii  Mr.  Robertaoa 
came  to  Brighton ;  but  chancing  one  day  to  drop  into  Trinity  Chapel  to  hear  tho  now 
preacher,  they  had  been  arrested,  became  regular  worshippers,  and  brought  many  more. 
Making  allowance  for  the  natural  exaggeration  of  funeral  sermons,  there  must  be  much 
truth  in  Mr.  .Anderson's  statement, — "  I  cannot  count  tip  conquests  in  any  place,  or  by  any 
man,  so  numerous  and  vast — conquests  achieved  in  so  shurt  a  period,  and  in  many  instances 
orer  the  hearts  and  consciences  of  those  whom,  from  their  age  or  purstiits,  it  is  always 
difficult  to  reach." — (Funeral  Sermon,  by  tho  Rev.  James  Anderson,  then  l*reacher  of 
Lincoln's  Inn.)  t  "Lectures  and  .Addresses,''  pp.  2,  3. 


236  The  Contemporary  Review. 

when  he  defended  Shelley  from  the  charge  of  atheism,  rebuked  the 
frenzy  that  followed  the  Durham  letter,  and  took  up  the  man  who,  for 
the  time,  was  down,  it  was  the  assertion  of  a  personal  daring  and 
dash  which  he  complained  the  Church  of  Kngland  would  not  endure,* 
the  relief  of  that  chivalrous  desire  to  protect  the  weak  and  avenge  the 
MTonged  which  had  attracted  him  to  the  army.  The  spirit  of  Christ 
deepened  the  courtesy  of  his  nature;  he  would  leave  those  he  liked 
best  to  converse  with,  and  sit  by  the  side  of  the  most  neglected; 
his  consideration  for  the  comfort  of  servants  was  so  great  that  they 
adored  liim.  In  the  same  spirit  his  sense  of  wrong  and  baseness 
would  sometimes  break  out  with  a  strength  that  was  terrible.  "  I 
have  seen  him,"  writes  one  of  his  frieuds,  "  grind  his  teeth  and  clench 
his  fist  when  passing  a  man  who  he  knew  was  bent  on  destroying  an 
innocent  girl."  He  recalls,  liimself,  how  "  once  in  my  life  I  felt  a 
teiTible  might;  I  knew,  and  rejoiced  to  know,  that  I  was  inflicting 
the  sentence  of  a  cowai'd's  and  a  liar's  hell." 

His  nature  quivered  with  force  and  energ}',  but  he  respected  the 
dullest  intellect ;  and,  setting  himself  to  the  lowest  and  smallest  work, 
he  was  as  patient  and  earnest,  and  as  eagerly  heard,  in  a  Sunday 
school  class  as  in  liis  pulpit.  His  earnestness  and  enthusiasm  were 
intense ;  he  suiTeudured  his  heart  to  a  tnie  man  and  a  true  thought  at 
once.  If  he  was  isolated,  lonely,  and  dwelt  apart,  it  was  because  Ids 
heart  had  been  crushed  back  upon  itself.  "Sympathy,"  he  wi"ote  to 
his  wife,  "  is  too  exquisitely  dear  to  me  to  resist  the  temptation  of 
expecting  it ;  and  then  I  could  bite  my  tongue  with  vexation  for 
liaviug  babbled  out  trutlis  too  sincere  and  childlike  to  be  intelligible. 
But  as  soou  as  tlie  fit  of  luisauthrojiy  is  passed,  that  absurd  human 
hejirt  with  which  I  live,  trusts  and  confides  again ;  and  so  I  go  on — 
alternately  rich  and  banknipt  in  fueling." 

For  mere  jiopidarity  he  had  an  imincible  contempt.  "  "What  is 
ministerial  success?"  he  asks — "crowded  churches,  full  aisles,  atten- 
tive congregations,  tlie  a])proval  of  the  religious  world,  much  impres- 
sion produced  ?  Klijah  thought  so,  and  when  lie  found  out  his  mis- 
take, and  that  the  applause  in  Carmel  subsided  into  hideous  stillness, 

•  "  The  Church  of  England  will  enduro  no  chivalry,  no  dash,  no  effcrveBcing  enthu- 
siapm.  She  cannot  turn  it  to  account  as  Rome  turns  that  of  her  Loyolas  and  Xariere. 
We  bear  nothing  but  sober  prosaic  roiitiiic ;  oud  the  moment  anj-  one  with  heart  and  norre 
lit  to  be  a  leader  of  a  forlorn  hope  appears,  we  call  him  a  dangeroua  man,  and  exaspentte 
him  by  cold,  un sympathising  reproofs,  till  he  becomes  a  dissenter  and  a  demagogue.  .  .  . 
Well,  I  BuppoBo  God  will  punish  us,  if  iu  no  other  way,  by  banishing  from  us  all  noble 
spirits  like  Xcwman  and  Planning  in  one  dircctiou,  and  men  like  Kingsley  iu  auothcr, 
leaving  us  to  flounder  in  the  mud  of  commonplace,  unable  to  rise  above  the  dead  level.'' — 
J.rltlTS,  ii.  14. 

"  I  hold,"  he  uTote  once,  "to  heart,  to  manhood,  to  nobleness,  not  correct  cxprcssioo.  I 
try  to  judge  words  and  actions  by  the  man,  not  the  man  by  his  words  and  actions."  Not 
u  .fry  tnistworthy  principle,  but  the  cxpivsaiga  of  a  generous  nature. 


Frederick  William  Robertson.  237 

Iiis  heart  well-nigh  broke  with  Jisinipohitmeiit.  Jliiiisterial  success 
lies  in  altered  lives,  and  obedient,  humble  hearts — unseen  work, 
recognised  in  the  judgment  day."*  "If  you  knew,"  he  says, 
■'  how  humiliated  and  degraded  to  the  dust  I  have  felt  in  per- 
ceiving myself  quietly  taken  by  gods  and  men  for  the  poi)ular 
preacher  of  a  fashionable  watering-place ;  how  slight  tlie  power  seems 
to  me  to  be  given  by  it  of  winning  souls,  and  how  sternly  I  have  kept 
my  tongue  from  saying  a  syllable  or  a  sentence,  in  pulpit  or  on  plat- 
form, because  it  would  be  popular !"  "  Would  to  God,"  he  says  again, 
"  I  were  not  a  mere  pepper-cruet  to  give  relish  to  the  palate  of  the 
Brightonians."  And  when  a  subscription  list  for  a  testimonial  was 
opened  in  the  Athenicum,  he  secretly  carried  off  the  elaborately  bound 
book  and  committed  it  to  the  flames.  His  sense  and  reverence  of  truth 
were  too  deep  to  be  moved  by  display ;  but  the  day  after  his  ordina- 
tion he  looked  as  if  he  had  l)een  through  an  illness.  Through  life  his 
soul  yielded  up  a  most  awful  homage  to  the  Eight ;  and  when  he 
found  it,  he  clung  to  it  with  a  grasp  tliat  never  faltered.  The  glimpses 
of  him  that  we  get  in  letters  from  his  friends  have  all  the  same  interest 
and  unity.  His  heart  was  wrung  by  slander  and  misrepresentation, 
but  "no  acrimonious  expression,"  says  one,  " ever  escaped  hia  lips." 
"  I  never  met  with  any  one,"  says  another,  "  so  deferential  and  gentle 
in  argument."  "  My  friendship  with  him  was  directly  a  clerical  friend- 
ship :  though  he  was  not  faultless  any  moi-e  than  otlier  human  beings, 
he  was,  without  exception,  the  most  faultless  clergyman  I  have  ever 
known."  His  care  for  parochial  work,  his  minute  and  self-sacrificing 
ilischarge  of  all  its  duties,  were  only  the  expression  of  his  loyalty  to 
his  calling,  and  the  Bishop  of  Winchester  held  the  account  of  hia 
diaconate  so  valuable  that  he  was  in  the  habit  of  giving  it  to  his 
deacons  to  study.  It  was  a  fidelity  that  lay  in  his  nature,  that  the 
love  he  bore  to  his  Master  had  dedicated  to  Him.  "  I  remember  the 
<iuiet  words  of  remonstrance  when  one  of  the  persons  staying  in  the 
house  said  that  he  should  '  stay  at  home,  because  the  preacher  was  not 
worth  hearing,'  and  the  gentle  determination  with  which  he  carried 
his  point."  And  speaking  of  another  side  of  liia  character,  its  manly 
freshness,  and  his  delight  in  nature,  the  same  friend  says,  "  If  a  ray  of 
sunlight  came  slanting  tlirough  the  trees  on  tiic  grass — if  a  bough  hung 
over  the  green  path  with  reniarkable  beauty — if  an  orange  fungus  made 
a  bright  spot  of  colour  in  the  way,  he  was  sure  to  remark  them.  It 
was  wonderful  how  he  made  us  see.  ...  I  shall  not  easily  foiget 
hia  delight  when  the  woodcocks  came,  nor  the  way  in  which  he 
absolutely  ran  over  witli  stories  of  their  life.  He  seemed  to 
me  to  know  all  the  poetrj-  which  refen-ed  to  animals,  and  quoted 
Words\^'orth  till  I  wondered    at  his  memoiy."     So  richly  dowered, 

•  "  Sermon?,"  Second  Scries,  p.  94, 


m 


23S  77/i'  Contemporary  Review. 

so  soQsItivLi  and  sym]>iLtlwjl.k%  su  ri^'litemis,  Li-Jivo,  aud  teiuiar, 
lUddest,  piire,  iliitffHl,  niul  conrteoua,  sn  many-sided  yet  ki  loyal- 
lipiirtefl,  so  utterly  \\  Christiim  man,  his  (.'liiiracter  stands  out  rlistinct 
iiml  iKmiitiliil  auiniij,'  the  bij^'liest  types  df  mtidem  English  life.  ^_ 

Aljout  his  teacliiiig  tlici*e.  will  l>e,  &a  tlierti  has  been,  iiiucli  tliiTerendl^B 
nl'  (ipiiiioii.  His  way  of  seeking  tviitli  niul  Iiis  ■way  fit"  liiimUiuy  it  were 
his  own,  His  stntement  of  [,nH?SLt  trallia  was  souielimes  at  wide  and 
bitt«r  variance  \nth  the  comuion  stAtement.  He  calls  the  poijular 
system  iil'  thi-  Atonement  I-inihminioal.  "  It  has  heeu  rcju'esentcd 
as  il  tlio  majesty  ol'  Livw  demanded  a  victim,  and  so  as  it  j^lutted  its 
insatiate  thirst,  ono  victim  woidd  do  as  well  as  another — the 
inarer  anil  the  ninre  innocent  the  letter.  It  has  lieen  exhibited 
as  it'  Kternal  Love  resolved,  in  I'm-)",  to  strike,  and  so  as  Ilu  had  his 
hlgw,  it  mattered  not  whether  it  fell  od  the  whole  vvijrld  or  oa  the 
jireeioiis  head  of  Hi^  nim  diosen  Sun."*  He  a]>eaks  of  "a  kii 
ot"  awjiiieseence  in  the  Atonement  wldtdi  is  jmrely  selSish. 
Christ  has  suffered,  and  1  am  Safe.  He  bore  the  agony ;  I  take  the 
rewftitl.  I  iimy  Uvct  ncm- with  impunity /'f  "Let  no  mnn  snv  that 
Christ  bora  the  wmth  of  God:  C!od  could  nut  Ih^  ftiiyiy  witli  sell^^^ 
SHcrificing  Iui'\'p.  He  could  not,  without  denjHng  his  omti  DRtud^| 
annex  hell — -thnt  is,  an  evil  eonstdence  aiid  remorse — to  iieriect  gnml- 
uess.":!:  "AVi^  are  sometimea  tuld  nf  a  itiysteriims  anguish  whieli 
Christ  eudured,  the  consequecee  ol"  Divine  wrath — tbe  aufieiiitris  of  a 
heart  laden  with  tlic?  crinscieuee  ul"  the  wiMd'*  tmnsgressious.  ,  -  . 
Do  not  go  to  tlmt.  abaiml  iiousangi^  fit  mjst^irioHs  sulVeriHg  that  caiuint 
lie  comprehended,  a  mystery  and  so  forth  of  which  the  liible  sa\-s 
nothing.  Slyaterious  enough  they  were,  as  the  siift'iirinjrs  nf  the 
deepest  liearta  must  ever  be,  Itut  mysterious  only  in  this  sense.  All 
that  is  nnintelligible  is  the  degree  nf  ugony-''§  "  He  bore  tlie  penalty 
of  others'  sin.  He  was  punished.  Christ  eanie  into  collision  with 
llie  worhl's  evil,  and  He  Ijuit;  the  penalty  of  that  daring:  not  lueivly 
the  penalty  of  his  own  daring — He  bore  the  penalty  of  our  trans- 
gressions. .  .  .  Christ  endured  the  iienalty  of  imputed  sin.  tlie 
sins  of  others.  But  imputed  sin  is  not  autual  sin,  though  constantlj 
we  see  it  bear  the  penalty  of  such,  that  is,  Ije  pnniahed  as  such.  .  , 
Ilia  death  was  sacrifiee,  not  merely  martyrdom."  In  one  nsi>ect"il 
was  a  Siieritice  for  sin ;"  in  Another  "  it  was  not  a  saeriiice  fur  a  ^Hew 
or  a  truth,  hut  for  tkt:,  TrutlL"  "We  say  tliat  God  needed  a  recon- 
ciliation, On  tlie  other  hand,  the  Tnttarian  view  is.]  that  Goil 
reqnii-es  nothing  t^  reconcile  Him  to  \is ;  that  He  is  reconciled  ah-eady ; 
that  the  only  thing  requisittj  is  to  i-econcile  man  to  God.     It  ulso 


'^ 


■'  SenmniB,"  Firit  Suriea,  p.  155. 
t  "  Sorinon*,"  First  Scries,  p,  161. 
f  -'SennoaV"  First  Seriei,  p.  161, 


t  fiirf.,  p,  157. 
"  I-ett«rs,"  i.,  p,  307, 
"  Leltara,"  i.,  p.  'J«8. 


Frederick  William  Robertson.  239 

declares  that  there  is  no  ^vTath  in  God  towards  sinners,  for  punish- 
ment does  not  manifest  indignation.  Nothing  can  be  moi-e  false,  un- 
philosophical,  and  unscriptural."*  "The  difference  between  my  views 
and  those  of  the  party  she  expounds  (the  Evangelical)  docs  not  lie  ia 
the  question  of  the  Atonement, — we  agree  in  this, — but  in  tlie  ques- 
tion. What  in  that  Atonement  satisfied  God  ?  They  say  pain ;  I  say, 
becaiise  I  think  the  Scriptures  say  so,  the  surrender  of  self-will.  .  .  . 
Indeed  this  is  the  whole  argument  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  and 
a  glorious  one  it  is.  '  He  bore  my  sins,'  I  am  willing  to  say,  and  in 
deep  humiliation,  in  a  deeper  sense  than  many  mean.  .  .  .  It  is 
often  said,  'My  sins  nailed  Him  to  the  Tree.'  There  is  a  sense  in 
which  this  contains  a  deep  and  extensive  tintli.  Every  time  I  am  a 
sharer  in  the  spirit  to  whicli  He  fell  a  victim.  .  .  .  Does  the  sacri- 
fice of  Christ  save  me  fi-om  the  consequences  of  my  sin  ?  Does  it 
break  the  connection  between  my  sin  and  its  natural  result — pain,  &c.  ? 
No.  Does  it  save  me  from  that  which  is  worse  than  all  pain,  the 
feeling  of  God's  wrath,  the  sense  of  banishment  from  the  presence  of 
his  beauty  and  his  love  ?  It  does.  You  are  redeemed  by  love  from 
remorse,  from  the  disposition  to  repeat  wrong,  from  the  sense  of  God's 
displeasure ;  and  the  pain  you  beai'  is  not  taken  away  but  transmuted. 
The  spirit  in  which  you  bear  it  makes  all  the  difference ;  it  changes  it 
from  penal  fire  into  wise,  loving,  corrective  discipline." -f"  Baptism,  he 
held,  "is  the  grand,  special  revelation  to  an  individual  by  name.  A, 
B,  or  0,  of  the  great  truth  Christ  revealed  for  the  race,  that  all,  Greeks 
and  barbarians,  are  the  children  of  God."  Starting  from  this,  that 
Christ  died  fur  the  sin  of  the  world — came  to  redeem  the  world — he 
declared  that  "man  is  God's  child,  ani  the  sin  of  tlie  man  consists  in 
living  as  if  it  were  false.  It  is  the  sin  of  the  heathen,  and  what  is 
your  mission  to  liim  but  to  tell  him  tliat  he  is  God's  child,  and  not 
living  up  to  bis  privilege  ?  It  is  the  sin  of  the  baptized  Christian, 
waiting  for  feelings  for  a  claim  upon  God.  .  .  .  Baptism  is  a 
mible  witness  to  the  world  of  that  which  the  world  is  for  ever  for- 
getting. ...  It  does  not  create  a  child  of  God.  It  authoritatively 
declares  him." J  He  held  that  all  the  knowledge  that  we  have  "is 
properly  inspiration,  but  immensely  differing  in  value  and  degree,  from 
a  glimmering  glimpse  to  infallibility.  If  it  be  replied  that  this 
degrades  inspiration  by  classing  it  with  things  so  common,  the  answer 
is  plain.  A  sponge  and  a  man  are  both  animals,  but  the  degrees 
between  them  are  almost  incalculable." §    He  believed  the  Bible  "to 

•  "Lectures  on  Epitttlca  to  CorinthionB,"  p.  410. 

t  "Sermons,"    First   Series,  p.   162.     "Letters,"    i.,    pp.    307-8.     "Sermons,"  First. 
Series,  p.  160.     "  Letters,"  ii.,  p.  139 ;  i.,  pp.  204-5,  305. 
I  "LetteiB,"  i.,  p.  333.     "  Bermons,"  Second  Suriea,  pp.  62-3. 
\  "  Lettere,"  i.,  p.  276. 


240 


The  C&niemporitry  Review. 


Ite  inapirefl,  not  dictated.  It  is  the  Wonl  of  God — tlie  words  of  man ; 
as  the  fonueT  jjerfect,  as  the  latter  inipeifoct.  (Jod  tUe  Spirit,  as  a 
SanttifieT,  dnej5  not  produce  absulute  peri'eiitiun  i>['  hutimii  chanieter; 
God  the  Spirit,  jis  an  Ins]iii"er,  does  not  produce  alhsolute  perlection  lil" 
Imniuii  kuQwliidj^e.""  "  Inspiration  is  the  deepest  ij^uesLioiiof  ourday."  | 
ho  said ;  "  tine  gi-and  qui^stion  whicli  is  given  to  this  age  to  solve." "f"  He 
thought  of  ■vvritiitg  a  bonk  on  it,  and  translated  as  a  pioneer  Lessicg's 
tmct  on  "The  Kducation  of  the  Human  Race;"  but  in  the  only  ser- 
mon that  bears  distinctly  upon  it  he  says,  "There  are  many  viewis, 
some  uf  thc]n  false,  aoiue  sui>erstitiou9;  but  it  is  not  our  biLsiiieB.s 
now  to  deal  with  these.  Our  way  is  rather  to  tench  positively  than 
negatively.  AVe  itill  try  to  set  aiji  the  truth,  and  error  nniy  lal^H 
beCure  it."J  ^^ 

These  statements,  giijiiped  together  from  liis  own  words,  aiHy  set 
forward  tleariy  eno\iylL  his  divergence  from  conuiioii  \iews,  and  whnt 
he  Conceived  popular  theology.  §  His  conception  of  Evangf^lical 
doctrine  was  sgmetinies  a  caricature.  Then;  may  be  ail  occft.gional 
Mrs.  Jellaliy  ;  bnt  it  is  a  UbeJ  tn  sjiy  that  the  most  nisrrow- 
minded  j^Christian  woman  is  like  htir.  There  ai'i*  repi-esentatioiis 
of  the  Atonement  in  Mr,  Kijbcrt son's  sermons  whtth  no  party 
in  the  Cluirch  would  acknowledge  for  its  own.  Tliere  are  saj-ings 
about  "  the  Evanf;elical3 "  in  his  letters  tliat  read  like  bursts  of 
pas-^ioD.  lie  connected  thcMu  iusepamljly  with  condnsions  that  he 
fastened  on  Ihyjj-  teaching,  that  to  biiu  seemed  inevitable  ;  Im  saddled 
exaggemtiuM  uii  their-  school  of  docti'ine — on,  take  it  aa  a  whole, 
the  most  earnest  ami  productWe  Ji^irty  that  had  sprung  up  within 
the  Church  i  he  ignored  its  fertibty  of  works  in  dwelling  upon  ii3 
sterility t  of  th(  right;  be  came  in  contact  with  a  painful  and  evil 
side  of  it ;  nntl   i:onstnieted    something   which   he  called  Evangeli- 

•  "LettpiVii,,  p.  148. 

t  "  ScniMus,"  Foiiitb  Serira,  p.  340.  J  IhiA.,  p.  341. 

\  Div-iTpeniM!  far  enough  aoil  ii urea bobq bio-  enough,  and  aiig^Rting  thought*  of  cici 
iogpaln.  Je  is  not  cn^y  to  unite  rstnod  tliia  t-onfuai^d,  i^lutiiay,  Ulugical  theory  af  tlie  Aiv: 
meat,  if  indceil  yi,\-  Uobortson  bad  a  theory  at  ull.  But  it  U  iiii]JWieiljio  to  en'uw  lii« 
represpnlfttioii  tif  liic  Eraiigellijal  dgijtrini;, — iiainful  to  think  iJbat  llie  hnsodth,  insight, 
and  ftijmpsa  *(j  tiiarlinl  in  'jj  conduct  and  opiiiionB  -Kor^  violalud  au  cBBeutially  hi-rt>.  I[  ia 
not  the  111 j eel  nJ'lhJs  pa[H'i-  to- onalyso  Mr.  Robertson's  opinions,  but  toesLimftli;  his  relaCitm 
to  onr  mmlcm  religious  lil'e,  to  help  in  aomc  way  to  actoimt  for  his  iriilo  and  enduring 
iDfiuenf^e.  Thu  M'nv  in  which  the  Atory  of  hla  lifn  ia  tuld,  Itaviw  the  impression  tlint  his 
i[Ltlui>iii.e  waj  iut'o-mpatible  M'ith.  the  Evangelical  syBttroi,^ — t^at  Evangelical  doclrinD  la 
nM-esgariiy  narrow -minded.  It  is  scarcely  needfijl  to  4ny  that  ibaf  is  a  wrong  impreeaitm ; 
that  his  infliipnr-^  did  nrit  spring  Iroin  Bysiem,  or  the  ivant  of  it;  thai,  niou  may  and  ought 
tt)  wipld  it  within  tho  limits  of  the  suundesl  orlhodoiy.  The  IheologiuiiE  pnrtisnji  might 
BbL'ti"h  Mr.  Robi-rtfton's  opinions  darkly  enough,  might  also  easily  refuto  theto  ;  thcV  art 
often  mi]siilaivp]y  nnd  iitrci-ly  statwl,  therefore  one-sided  and  contRtdi<-tory.  Sui."h  rvfiila- 
tioti  Oii  thai  will  be  nbunihintly  done,  nnd  for  many  porBons  it  will  he  abundantly  nccesmy. 
It  ia  suri-ly  uct  tLi'  loBd  important  to  seporatQ  tb-e  evotet  of  hii  inf!ii«ii<:e  from  (he  errom  of 
his  Ivathing. 


Frederick  William  Robertson.  241 

calism,  which  "he  abhorred  in  proportion  as  he  adored  Christ." 
But  after  making  allowance  for  the  strength  of  his  expressions, 
his  divei^nce  is  still  wide.  Yet  he  reached  practical  conclusions 
that  were  not  verj'  different  from  those  of  the  schools  that  he 
opposed.  AVhile  persuaded  that  "  the  Jewish  Sabbath  is  a  shadow 
of  things  to  come,"  he  felt  "  by  experience  its  eternal  obligation 
because  of  its  eternal  necessity.  The  so\d  withers  without  it  ; 
it  thrives  in  proportion  to  the  fidelity  of  its  obserx'anee."  While 
the  law  for  the  spiritual  man  was  the  mind  of  Christ,  "  it  ia  at 
his  peril  that  the  worldly  man  departs  from  the  ndt  of  the 
day  of  rest"  Those  who  know  his  ^vritings  will  find  it  impossible 
to  hold  that  he  did  not  believe  in  Christ  the  eternal  Son  of  God 
and  the  Saviour  of  men,  though  they  may  give  up  in  despair  recon- 
ciling his  faith  with  his  speculations  on  the  Atonement.  Had  lie 
been  thrown  among  the  more  liberal  and,  no  doubt,  larger  section  of 
Evangelicalj  Churchmen,  the  sundering  of  his  later  from  liis  earlier 
convictions  might  not  have  been  so  complete  :  his  teaching  might 
have  preserved  more  system,  and  lost  its  occasional  contradiction  of 
statement.  There  are  narrow-minded  disciples  of  every  school,  who 
conceive  nothing  but  evil  beyond  their  own  scanty  horizon ;  and  it 
would  be  a  shame  to  say  that  the  spirit  which  repelled  Mr.  Eobertson 
when  living,  and  reviled  him  when  dead,  is  the  spirit  of  the  great 
Evangelical  party.  From  the  best  of  them  he  woidd  have  fouiid 
reeognition  and  sympathy.  But  society  at  Cheltenham  and  Brighton 
seems  to  have  bristled  with  the  religious  polemics  of  the  day.  "  To 
speak  ceriain  phrases,  and  feel  certain  feelings,  was  counted  equiva- 
lent to  a  Christian  life,"  and  the  loudest  voice  in  party  clamour  was 
taken  as  index  of  the  soundest  heart.  He  was  shocked  by  this  bigotry 
and  shallowness,  and  he  shocked  them  in  turn.  While  partisans 
assailed  each  other  with  hard  names,  he  sought  the  truth  for  which 
they  fought.  While  they  were  content  with  their  bundle  of  opinions, 
he  sought  to  trace  up  every  branch  of  tliought  to  its  issue  from  the 
Uving  Vine :  while  tliey  regarded  every  step  out  of  the  beaten  road  of 
phrases  with  suspicion,  he  coined  the  phrases  for  his  own  ideas,  and 
taught  ,with  a  freedom  that  had  no  formalism  or  restraint  but  the 
absolute  truth  in  Christ.  While  such  relations  subsisted,  it  was  natural 
that  he  should  "  be  badgered  with  old  maids  of  both  sexes ;"  that  he 
shoiUd'  be  irritated  and  repelled  by  their  remonstrance  ;  that  his 
indignation  would  be  kinilled  by  their  ignonmce  and  bigotry.  They 
laid  down  the  books  he  should  read  and  avoid :  he  quietly  persisted 
in  reading  his  own  way.  "  I  don't  care,"  be  said  at  last.  "  But  do 
you  know  what  '  don't  care'  came  to  ?"  "  Yes,  madam,  he  was 
crucified  on  Calvary."  "  God's  truth  must  be  boundless,"  lie  wrote. 
"  Tractarians   and   Evangelicals   suppose   that   it   is   a  pond   which 


?-I2 


The  CoiUemporary  J?eviciv. 


you  can  walk  rriimJ,  and  aay, — 'I  liold  the  truth !'  'What!  all?" 
'Yes;  all-  Here  it  is,  eirciimacritied,  defined,  proved;  and  you  are 
an  infidel  if  ymi  do  not  tliink  this  pond  of  imiie,  that  the  great 
Mr.  Scott  and  Mr.  Ne-wtou  and  Mr.  Cecil  diig,  fjuite  lai^o  enough 
to  he  tlie  iinmeasiirahle  Gosiiel  of  the  Lord  of  the  universe.'"*  He 
felt  tilmt  the  true  Cinsfitil  was  lai^T  than  the  party — that  the  nar- 
niwfcv  and  more  minute  a  creed,  it  -was  tlie  more  likely  to  liuiit  soiue 
Imths  and  exdade  nthei-s ;  he  was  even  prepared  to  let  men  Inok 
at  (.'hrist  tlirnuj^di  difterent  systeuis,  sure  that  tin;  luoro  they  hioked  at 
Hiui  the  lesfi  likely  they  wem  to  fall  iuto  duy;ijjatiejtl  enioit)-  with  one 
iuiotlier.  He  made  it  plain  that  he  held  tliiii  tolerance  not  from 
iDdillerence.  hut  loyally  Lu  tnith;  iKJcaiise  lie  ci>neeivat  the  surest 
way  t<i  dogmatical  ngi-eenient  was  to  realize  the  person  of  the  Son  of 
Goil  and  man.  Men  of  thw  profoundest  faith  have  felt  and  said  like- 
"wise.  He  miyht  have  Ijeen  met  at  this  point;  and  instead,  he  was 
n]i|X)seil.  He  was  sensitively  tolerant ;  respectfiU  tu  his  neitihUjur's 
conscience,  and  considerate  of  a  good  man's  prejudice.  No  man 
coiild  he  more  t'^^tle,  cuarteous,  and  careful  in  stating  convictions 
that  were  opiMsed  to  cauTent  teaching'.  J  I'  3ie  spoke  hardly  of  one 
Bchoul  of  thoiig^Ut.  he  was  partly  yofwled  to  it.  H«  read  Oertiian,  and 
people  shook  their  heads  ovor  his  Neologj'.  "  Unilarianigin  ig  false,'' 
lie  htrld;  "  Trinitarianism  is  trae:"  hut  a  lady  eaiue  to  r^moustiiit? 
with  him  for  readiuj,'  Channin^'s  Lile,  and  called  liim  a  Sociuitm, 
He  prottrsted  ayaiuat  iulidelity  with  aU  hL*  might,  and  I'ought  it  out 


Bingle-lmnded  aniouy 
whispered  lie  was  an 


the   working  men   of    Brighton  ;  but  it  iraa 


m 


infidel,  I'antheisiii  he  looked  on  as  "  sen 
jnental  trash;"  hut  betJiuse  he  was  "not  afmid  of  any  truth  in  it^' 
he  was  act  down  as  a  Pantheist.  He  preached  once  in  the  same 
church  with  Mr.  Maurice ;  and  though  he  diifered  widely  from  Iiim, 
was  set  doAvn  as  his  disciple.  He  toiled  against  the  socialism  of 
young  France;  hut  he  lectured  on  the  obligations  of  capital,  and  was 
niade  out  a  Socialist.  He  was  laholled  Itevolutionist  and  Tory, 
Charti.st  and  y\jistocrat,  liomiin  Catholic  and  Sceptic :  and  tliei-e  ia 
scarcely  a  bad  word  to  he  found  in  theology  that  has  not  been  tbro^vn 
at  hi,s  luemory.-f-    His  hriUiant  intellect  and  genina  dtiserve  a  more 

•  "Lellere." 

t  It  vtie  HOI-  vitLout  i>enDU&l  cxporicacf  tLat  be  said,  "  InAikHty  b  on«n  uiLong  the 
uixmwining  accusaiioEB  lirought  by  timid  personB,  half-<'oaa*ioiia  of  the  instaliility  of  thuir 
own  beliel',  and  furious  Bgainat  evcrj'  oiw  whosa  wonta  miiku  them  treicblia  ut  ittir  own 
utwtuHty-  It  U  sometiincf  the  cry  vf  notrownoES  against  aji  old  truth,  (UKltir  a  n«w  and 
moTG  EpLriluul  form.  SoiiiiftiDi«B  it  is.  tbe  cbiLrgc  eaug:iit  up  at  ei.>t  god -bond,  oiui  rr'pvnt^d  as 
n  land  of  religious  bue  a.uil  Kxy,  in  profouiiduatigiicjrauce  of  Uig  opintonH  thai  art'  bo  cturac- 
tetized.  !<Otking  la  mOic  melimcho'ly  ihoD.  Lo  listen  to  tbe  irild,  indiscriminnl^tbiur^s  of 
Bcepticifloi,  inyaiicism,  pontlici&m,  rationalifai,  atheiHtn,  whivh  are  trjido  by  aoine  of  the 
ireak^-Ht  cf  maniind,  who  scurcoly  know  tho  diiferento  IwtM-ecn  niefiniiriirn  and  niyBticiuu. 
X  hold  it  e  (.'briBtiim  duly  to  abstain  Irgia  this  foulieh  snd  wiuked  Hysleia  of  labulliu^  ama. 


i 


Frederick  Williavi  Robertson.  243 

patient  and  generous  treatment,  not  so  much  in  his  interest  as 
in  our  own.  For  as  a  man  who  has  left  his  mark  Ijroad  and 
deep  on  our  English  religious  thought,  it  is  of  more  concern  to  know 
how  far  he  was  wrong,  and  at  what  point  he  left  the  right,  tlian  that 
he  was  wrong — an  inquiry  quite  beyond  the  limits  of  this  paper,  hut 
in  which  these  elements  must  be  taken  into  account :  his  intense 
realization  of  the  human  side  of  theology,  the  humanity  of  Christ, 
and  the  message  of  Christianity  to  human  life  ;  liis  desire  to  see  into 
the  precise  meanings  of  words  and  ci-eeds,  and  to  ascertain  exactly  the 
value  of  their  thoughts,  as  one  who  felt  that  "  true  religion  is  really 
comprehensible,  its  dogmas  consistent  with  plain  reasoning,  its  teaching 
in  harmony  with  our  consciousness  of  truth,  justice,  generosity;"* 
liis  large-hearted  and  philosophic  conviction  that  there  is  a  truth 
below  every  form  of  error,  that  the  strength  of  tlie  error  lies  there, 
that  it  is  the  province  of  Christian  thought  to  seek  out  the  truth  and 
set  it  in  its  right  place  ;t  and  that  he  lived  during  a  time  of  change, 
always  a  restless  and  unsettled  time,  a  change  in  the  complexion  of 
religious  life,  in  the  development  of  religious  ideas,  and  in  the  cha- 
racter of  religious  teaching. 

Whatever  conclusion  men  may  come  to  about  his  theology,  his 
influence  is  still  to  be  accounted  for,  as  the  greatest  of  any  preacher 
in  this  generation,  or,  indeed,  except  Chalmers,  iu  tliia  century.  It 
must  be  traced  to  many  sources, — for  one,  to  the  force  and  reality  of  his 
wnvictions.  His  sermons  were  the  reflection  of  his  own  mind,  the 
fmit  of  his  own  thought.  Tiiere  was  nothing  in  them  taken  for 
granted ;  but  from  the  foundation  up,  the  truth  he  preached  had  been 
examined,  and  jealously,  almost  morbidly  tested  by  himself.  At 
Winchester  he  preached  what  he  liad  been  taught,  and  did  not  disbe- 
lieve :  at  Brighton  he  preached  what  he  had  learnt  by  experience,  held 
even  through  infinite  struggle  with  the  powers  of  darkness,  and  trusted 
and  felt  with  all  the  force  of  his  soul.  At  Winchester  he  was  simply 
the  exponent  of  the  doctrinal  system  that  had  come  to  him,  with  a 
large  charity  indeed,  and  an  absolute  freedom  from  the  cant  of 
phrasesj — a  ground  no  higher  than  the  pulpit  is  often  content  to 
occupy ;  theologically  safe  if  the  system  is  theologically  sound,  but 
from  w^hich  there  can  be  won  no  hold  over  the  thoughtful  and  eager 

vith  names ;  to  siand  aloof  from  every  mob,  religiouB  or  irreligioua  in  name,  wMch 
resembles  that  mob  at  Ephcsus,  vho  shouted  for  two  hours,  the  mare  part  knowing  not 
Therefore  they  were  come  together." — LtHttrtt  and  Addrttats,  pp.  6,  8,  9. 

•  "  Letters,"  i.,  p.  143. 

t  "  I  have  almost  done  with  divinity — dogmatic  divinity  that  is — except  to  lovingly 
endcavoor  to  mako  out  the  truth  which  lies  beneath  this  or  that  poor  dogma." — Letttrs, 
i.,  p.  181. 

X  What  he  said  to  the  artieans  of  Brighton  was  applicable  to  his  whole  pulpit  life :  "  Let 
ihc  men  of  this  Association  rest  assured  that  they  shall  hear  no  cant  from  me." 


244 


The  Contemporary  RcvicL). 


minds  of  tlie  ftge,  nor  command  of  more  tlian  a  decent  and  comminn- 
phice  reapect.  Until  the  truth  he  preaches  has  pasae«l  into  the  veiy 
beinci;  of  the  preachetj  men  will  hesir  hini  ivith  an  mdiiiiin'  Similny's 
reaiiectJid  inLlifference.  His  dearucsa,  I'acility  ol"  illusti-atiou,  ]H>wtT 
of  defence,  eloquence  of  appeal,  are  effective :  Imt  he  stoiis  short  uf 
the  liii,^hest  effect.  lie  is  describing  what  lie  has  not  yet  explored; 
aaserting  pruhltsins  that,,  uiiconsiainisly  tu  him,  arts  vexing'  the  miud^ 
of  men;  applying;  a  ^aufje  to  truth,  which  in  his  hands  is  trying  a 
fl[Hritnal  furee  by  a 'iiiccbaiiical  test  t'oulil  Mr.  Ilobcrlsiai  have 
reniiiiued  stiitionary  where  he  started ;  had  it  been  pussihlu  fur  hiui  t*j 
accept  with  a  stnuoth  aeipiiescence  whatever  he  received,  or  to  reaist 
and  qtieiich  tliose  ycandn^'S  after  hijiher  things  that  hbjtot  in  him  tliu 
begiiiuiugs  of  doubt;  or  had  he  been  less  lionust  to  truth  and  to  hiui- 
self,  and  refused  to  follow  where  his  questions  led  him,  detevred  l>y 
the  riek  and  difficulty  of  the  way,  he  Wuuld  have  been  perlifl]i-« 
popular,  M'ould  have  escaped  much  miseiy  and  party  slander.  luiyht 
Iiave  lived  longer,  and  wouhl  cettftinlj  hftve  been  fo^^ot^en.  But 
Iiefoi'e  hig  Settlement  at  Itri^hton  he  had  learned  thorouyhly  to  think 
lor  hiiiisell'.  and  what  be  did  preach  there  wag  his  own,  as  inseparahle 
from  hia  life  as  liis  mind  or  aonl.  Another  source  of  his  power 
lay  in  Ms  mode  of  preparation.  The  true  speaker  -will  always 
spettk  before  Christ;  ■vnlt  c-ast  himself  on  Him  as  the  Eternal 
Word  and  Truth ;  wiH  feel  the  awfnln«ss  of  standiuj,'  as  inteiin-eter 
Iwitween  Him  and  rjion.  Mr.  liobcrtsim  felt  this  nith  an  intensin- 
that  consnined  his  streuj^th  ;  but  be  felt  also  tlint  bi.s  message  was  for 
not  only  dyin;,'  men,  but  Hvin;,'  men,  in  a  life  beset  with  problems  and 
duties— a  life  to  ■which,  in  its  endlessly  viiried  relations,  tins  niea.^iy(.- 
was  sent.  When  he  lectured  on  Samuel,  he  had  recourse  to  Niebulir'3 
"  Home,"  Guizot's  "Civilization,"  and  books  on  political  economy ;  when 
lie  lectured  on  Genesis,  he  studied  &uch  hnoks  as  IVtchartl'a  "  Physical 
Hiatorj'  of  Jlan,"  and  AA'ilkinson's  "  Ei,'yptian8."'  "  I  read  Sbakspea\ 
Wordsworth,  Tennyson,  {.■oleriil;:,''L',  Philip  van  Artevehlc,"  he  saya, 
"  for  views  of  man  to  meditate  uiion,  and  I  go  out  into  tho  country  lu 
ftel  (lod,  dabble  in  chemistry  to  feel  awe  of  Him,  raid  the  life  of 
Christ  to  iimlci'staud,  love,  and  adoi-e  Him,  and  my  experience  is 
closing  into  this,  that  I  turn  with  disgust  from  everything  to  Christ."' 
His  seimons  reach  the  common  human  heart  Ijecauee  they  bring 
the  Bilde  into  contact  with  common  human  life.  Everything^ — ^from 
a  jar  in  the  houseliold  to  a  political  struyyle,  tbu  sluall  duties  and 
casuistry  of  daily  life  and  the  profouudeat  questions  of  the  ]»ast  and 
present — was  brought  to  the  Bible  to  liave  light  flung  directly  upon 
it  there. 

There   bad   been  a  great  change   in  his  thought,    but   there   ran 
through   it  a  cleai"  unity.     His  first  address  as  a  minister  was  to 


Frederick   William  Robertson.  245 

a  dozen  rough  boys  in  a  Sunday  school,  whom  he  urged  to  live  as 
Christians,  concluding,   "  Believe  me,  there  is   nothing   else  worth 
living  for."      In   liis  last  address    he   might   have   said  the   same. 
Christ,    and  living  Christ,   was    the   starting-point   and    sum    and 
impulse  of  his  teaching.     Itound  the  one  he  clustered  his  teaching  of 
doctrine,  as  the  sun  that  pierced  it  on  every  side  by  his  rays ;  round 
the  other  he  grouped  his  teaching   of  practice.      He   apprehended 
Christianity  as  above  all  a  life.      Peculiarly  a  man  of  thought,  he 
demanded  of  it  action ;  and  his  veiy  thoughts  became  liWng  tilings 
"  with   hands   and  feet."     Christ   was   to  him   the  solution  for  all 
problems ;  and  as  each  puzzled  him,  it  was  to  Christ  lie  carried  it, 
to  Christ  lie  led  others.     Christ  by  his  incarnation  had  connected 
Himself  with  all  humanity ;  and  he  recognised  therefore  that  every- 
thing human  must  concern  Ilim.     He  saw  and  felt  Him  everj'where, 
not  as  a  force  that  had  been  set  in  motion,  but  as  a  living  One  among 
men — Lord  and  Inter^jreter  of  men's  intellects,  and  aim  and  fulfil- 
ment of  all  geuuine,  pure,  and  lofty  aspirations.     Christian  life  could 
never   isolate   itself  from   human   life,  nor  Christian  thought   from 
human  thought.     Art,  speculation,  poetry,  politics,  tastes,  and  sensi- 
biKties  of  men — Christian  life  touched  upon  tliem  all.     Tlie  aspect 
of  Christ  to  men,  as  lumian  beings  living  in  a  present  world,  and 
working  out  in  it  infinite  good  and  evil  to  one  another,  made  a  deeper 
impression  on  him  than  His  aspect  to  so  many  souls  to  be  saved. 
Yet  if  it  was  tlie  humanity  of  Christ  that  most  impressed  him, — to 
the  Gospel  and  to  Christ's  love  that  he  oftenest  turned, — he  insisted  on 
the  Divinity  of  Christ  as  the  true  explanation  of  His  humanity,  and 
amously  set  out  the  logical  proof  of  it  in  tlie  Scriptures — "Divine 
character,  that  was  given  in  Christ  to  worship ; "   Jesus  was  "  the 
Human  Heart  of  God."    This  sympathy — if  it  may  be  called — with  the 
humanity  of  Christ,  made  itself  felt  in  many  directions.   A  natural  gift, 
it  was  developed  by  his  struggles,  and  quickened  and  purified  by  his 
fellowship  with  God.  "  ily  misfortune  or  happiness,"  he  says, "  is  power 
of  sympathy.   I  can  feel  mth  the  Brahmin,  the  Pantheist,  the  Stoic,  the 
Platonist,  the  Transcendentalist,  perhaps  the  Epicurean.     At  least  I 
feel  the  side  of  Utilitarianism  which  seems  like  truth,  though  I  have 
more  antipathy  to  it  than  anything  else.     I  can  suffer  with  the  Trac- 
tarian,  tenderly  shrinking  from  the  gulf  blackening  before  liim,  as  a 
frightened  child  runs  back  to  its  mother  from  the  dark,  afraid  to  be 
alone  in  tlie  fearful  loneliness ;  and  I  can  also  agonize  with  the  infidels, 
recoihng  from  the  cowardice  and  false  rest  of  superstition."     A  power 
of  entering  into  other  minds  like  that,  gave  him  a  sensitive  and  pene- 
trating knowledge  of  men.     "  He  seemed  to  feel  character,  as  if  by  a 
sixth  sense."     No  other  preacher  threw  liimself  so  thoroughly  into  the 
characters  of  the  Bible.     Jacob,  Joseph,  David,  ZacclxKus,  Thomas, 


246 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


Pfiul,  e^'en  Nabfll  atitl  Abigail,  live  before  us  as  they  never  did  before. 
Men  to  wlioTii  the  Bible  was  ouly  a  book  felt  it  to  1»  a  life.  If  he 
was  nnintcni;jible  to  those  wlioso  hearts  were  hatden^^l  by  coustaiit 
trallii:  of  ryliyujus  words,  lyv  tiiLrro"wed  in  and  bijjotod  by  party,  or  wlw 
hjLcl  felt  no  doubt,  save  about  the  respective  orthodoxy  of  their 
teachets,  iiitri  of  the  highest  thought  were  nttnicted  to  his  tninistn-, 
Euid  the  pixir  mllied  round  him.  It  must  hnve  been  this  sytrpathy 
with  men  that,  during  one  of  his  vacations  at  Cheltenhani,  filled  a 
niml  chuKh  vith  country  people,  breathless  in  attention,  ond  that 
drew  so  many  of  the  siiiiple.'?t  to  kim.  Hii  dealt  with  doubts  nriil 
(j^uestifinings  iis  one  ■ndio  had  felt  them  himself,  who  Icbpw  their 
pfiin,  and  that  it  must  \\q>  met  and  not  stifled.  He  treated  them  iw 
marks  of  disease,  to  hu  as  pitifidly  dealt  with  as  blindness  rr  palsy. 
His  aemioua  speak  of  "mental  doubt,  that  most  acute  of  human  ail- 
iiieuts,"  and  "thy  achinj;  of  a  liollow  hwurt,  the  worst  (if  human 
malfidiea."  Tenderly  he  took  up  the  bruised  mind,  axiA  with  a  finn 
compassion  probed  the  wounds  aud  set  furth  Clirist  the  healer.  He 
complains  of  the  way  in  whifh  religious  men  treat  doubt ;  he  conlra8t.s 
it  witli  the  trtiatment  am!  syui])athy  of  Christ.  Tu  tliu-su  uuihiulit^d 
sources  of  his  influence,  two  must  he  added — his  ^t  of  teaching  imd 
his  j^ft  of  speech.  His  sermons  ans  teacher's  work.  The  ajitness  and 
profusion  of  the  illustratious,  tlie  etoiineuee  and  poetry,  arc  3ul>oidi- 
Eflteil  to  his  exegesis  of  truth.  He  enfui-ces  it  ^vithout  exhortation, 
end  rarely  ^itb  appeal,  hut  by  uiakiny  men  see  tljat  it  is  tme,  Fm- 
tliis  he  had  tJie  mrest  power.  And  yet  over  ami  abuve  hia  lucitl 
logical  arrangement  and  exfpiisite  analysis,  the  languaj^  makes  itself 
felt  by  its  tnmaiiaryncy,  fitnusa,  and  beauty,  lie  ofteTi  utters  a  snccee- 
sion  of  nervous  llioujj;bts,  each  of  which  is  act  to  its  word  like  an 
arrow  quivering  on  the  tightened  stj-uiy.  Open  at  randon\  any  of 
liis  lectures,  or  of  tliese  letters,  and  you  are  aiTested,  pnssarje  at^*r 
passage,  by  such  words  m  "  the  di-ssonaiit,  hea^y,  eiulless  vUaig  of  the 
sea;"  "  the  Tcckkmmciss  with  wliich  the  air  .'ieems  autiuati-d,"  or  "  caaes 
of  persons  at  Cheltenham,  that  luvvu  come,  like  the  vdottr  of  nnnly 
tm-ned  enrlk,  upon  uiy  heart." 

Such  quahties  sf>  c(.»mbined  belong  to  few ;  but  the  best  of  them  muy 
lie  ha<l  by  any :  hi.i  reveivuce  for  truth,  his  depth  of  eonidction,  his 
tearless  honesty,  Ids  sympathy  with  men,  Ins  haudlLag  of  tho  JJiWe 
as  what  it  is — the  word  of  Gorl  to  tho  wajits  of  men.  It  is  by  them 
that  Tiieu  have  felt  his  intiuence ;  and  they  indicate,  clearly  enough, 
the  source  of  power  which  the  Church  in  these  days  is  saying,  with 
feeble  and  credidous  lament,  1ms  (led  from  the  pidpit.  The  humanity 
of  Christ  nuist  be  di^velnped  witlinnt  suiTcnclering  t!ie  authority  and 
stringency  oi'  His  Divinity  ;  and  the  humanity  of  tho  AVord  of  God, 
and  the  humanity  uf  the  pulpit,  and  tke  religious  thought  and  life  of 


Frederiik  William  Robertson. 


^47 


w 


the  Bible,  shown  tui  eucompase  and  ponetrale  like  an  atmosphere  all 
men  iimy  thiiik  and  say  and  Teel  and  do. 

Mr   Bmciku  hna  edited  these  ^'oliimes  with  grant  ability,  yet  by 
no  means  faidtlessly.     TJie  tone  of  the  biography  is  pitched  Lou  liigh, 
and  produces  an  overatraineid  effect.    There  is  a  vein  of  quiet  sus- 
inal   pftuefjyric,  a  more  than  occasional  hero- worship,  thoruiighly 
inconsistent  with  Mr.  Robertson's  humility,  and  not  justitied  by  his 
poeitdoo.    A  life  so  simple  did  not  need  so  elaborate  a  setting.    An 
impression  is  sometime?  protluced  not  very  conaist-ent  with  tlie  facts. 
He  was  not  a  clerical  Ciicbt'Oli ;  nor  need  we  believe  that  bu  had 
mastered  all  his  theologj'^,  nor  that  parishes  yielded  to  him  in  a  few 
Sundays.     Tbnmghimt,  too,  tlii?m  is  the  lunnifest  taking  of  a  side, 
r.  Brooke's  iintipiitliy  to  the  Eviiiigelical  party,  and  his  synipntliies 
itli  extremely  free  theology,  have  the  effect  of  making  Mr,  Kobert- 
seem  much  greater  than  they  were.     He  is  inclined  to  pit  him 
.t  "the  Evangelicals,"  and  "the  Evangelicals"  against  bim ;  to 
mftke  the  most  of  thetr  perscf-^utiou  of  him ;  to  see  in  their  system  of 
(himght  only  defect,  bigoLry,  and  what  must  pass  away.     The  Evan- 
gelical party  may  have  (IwimUed  into  a  Narrow  Church  jiarty  of  late 
yenrs,  bankrupt  of  scholarship,  of  high  intellectual  endowments^  and 
of  that  higher  power  wlntih  imprcsfles  itself  u])on  the  time;  but  its 
Joctriual  aad  ecclesiastical  opinions,  its  earnestoesa  and  philanthropy, 
ire  shared  by  an  ever-inci-easing  body,  who  have  no  sympathy  with 
its  present  form,  who  cordially  dislike  its  bitterness,  who  are  not  to 
So  identified  with  it3  bigotry,  nud  who  nmat  yet  pass  by  its  name.     It 
is  neither  quite  accurate  nor  fair  to  apply  the  hard  censures  of  this 
Violc  to  n  iMidy  at  present  so  vaiioualy  composed  and  so  loosely  tield 
together     They  may  apply  to  a  body  of  this  body ;  they  are  exag- 
gerated and  onesided  even  then.     It  ia  easy  to  fasten  on  it.?  failings, 
to  rail  at  its  narrowneas,  to  expose  its  gossip  and  scandal,  its  seifiah 
and  elVeminate  policy;  but  Englishmen  nwe  "the  Evangelical  suu- 
ceesion  "  too  much  to  speak  tightly  of  its  services  ;  and  if  its  leaders 
Imve  not  been  replaced,  and  as  a  party  it  baa  decayed,  its  iiupulses 
m  a  movement  of  reUgioua  earnestness  and  truth  are  atill  reaching 
wide,  and  bleasbig  where  they  reach.     It  woidd  have  been  well  to 
remembered  words  that   have  lieen  fitly  applied   to  another, 
which  express  the  temper  in  which  Mr.  Koliertsoii  tauylit ;  t!iat 
"he  felt  himself  called  to  bear  a  continual  witness  against  those  who 
couibiuid  the  cnisliiug  of  opponents  with  tlie  assertion  of  principles  ; 
he  lielieved  thut  every   party  triumph  is  an  injiLiy  bj  the  wholti 
C'liorch.  and  an  especial  injury  to  the  party  which  wius  the  triumph,"* 

Fr^fiice  to  .\rL'lii1?[wgn  Hiu-q's  "  CliargM,"  p.  Ixi.  There  ia  a  hin't  In  one  uf  the  last 
.  Mr-  UolwrUoa  u'ii>to  that  miglit  linve  gavcd  his  bioginjihcr  frum  his  QuatiLke.  '''  In 
nadiiag  lire*,  the  iiUiSftion  lix-  often  is,  n-hethcr  it  be  odci  -n-hic-'h  ib  all  re9|ke(its  iiaswcrd 
«ar^idctJ  of  a  life;  M-hereus  the  iiiKvtiotL  uuglit  to  he,  whether  it  hnHelrojiglfe.ttuhiteJ 
•on*  Oil«  or  other  of  out  manifold  anil  man^-sidcd  life."— Zf/ffrf,  ii.  221. 


246  The  Conkmforary  Revkw. 

Moreover,  it  is  pi-ovoking  to  be  reiiiiiided  at  eveiy  other  page  that 
Sir.  Robertson  was  abuaed  by  those  who  did  not  agiiie  with  him; 
that  he  wjis  the  victim  of  old  luaida  iir  both  sexes  at  rrifibtuii ;  that 
liis  lite  was  a  tmjiody.  llu  Wita  soiDsitively  organized,  aud  lelt  pam 
keenly— the  iiain  of  Inneltiiess,  suspicion,  and  slander  in<jflt  of  alL 
Iiut  thcne  wa.s  nothinij  siirjirisin-^  if  those  whom  he  struck  at.  struck 
back,  nr  if  ueither  Kvanyelienl  nor  Tractarian  lent  hiuk  sympathy. 
His  peui^li,'  were  sincerely  attached  to  him ;  he  had  loyal  t'rieuda  wlio 
could  apjirecinU!  his  wortli;  he  huil  the  power  nf  pressing  his  con- 
victions ou  an  iiudience  that  believed  him.  He  kindled  opposition : 
he  could  have  expected  nothing  less.  "  It  seems  to  me,"  he  says,  "  a 
pitit'td  thing  for  auy  man  to  nsjiire  to  be  trne  and  to  spe-ak  truth,  aad 
then  to  couiplaiii,  m  astonishinGnt.  that  truth  lias  not  cruwus  U*  give, 
but  thorns."  He  gave  as  well  as  took,  and  hotly  and  rashly  enough ; 
in  isolation  a  theological  Ishmael,  but  not  without  hig  hand  being 
against  every  man,  when  he  conceived  the  tnitli  was  at  stalic,  It  15  a 
iiiistn.ke  to  jiteseut  him  as  a  pitifnl  snfl'erer.  desolate,  forsaken,  victim- 
ized to  dentil.  He  had  far  too  healthy  and  manly  a  nstuTe  lor  that 
Vet,  in  jiidyiri<4  jMt.  Brooke,  gomethinj,'  must  Ik;  set  down  to  the  difficult}' 
of  hi3  tnak,  and  he  has  always  written  in  the  spirit  of  a  frank,  honour- 
able, luL^'hinimled  geutleuian.  Ho  had  to  write  a  life  with  little  incident, 
and  that  ^vas  already  "\\Titten  in  the  pulpit ;  if  he  sometimes  snys  too 
much,  he  siiys  it  so  well  that  lie  Jiiay  almost  ho  forgiven.  From  tbe 
Brighton  Sermons  the  world  h£i,d  learned  the  stor\'  of  the  preattlier — hie 
solitude,  his  struf^fjles,  his  conflict  with  tbe  relii;!ions  world,  his  doubts 
and  certaintii!3,  his  charity,  his  passionate  love  of  nature  aud  aniinal 
life,  his  estimate  of  public  events  and  pubUe  men;— nay,  they  reveal 
the  Ijooka  he  read,  and  who  were  his  favom'ste  poets ;  his  instincts 
iiud  testes,  and  the  complexion  of  bi.s  daily  intercourse.  For  what  he 
said,  was  said  out  of  himselC;  and  when  be  had  apprehended  a  truth, 
he  was  not  satisfied  till  it  was  tried  in  the  circumstances  about  him. 
Thid  intense  and  affluent  jiersonsilicy  only  made  ifr.  Brooke's  task 
the  harder.  And  another  difliculty  met  him.  The  Letters  m-e  the  mo&t 
interesting  to  Englighmen  since  Dr.  Arnold's ;  packed  with  most  sug- 
<,'estive  ami  various  thour^ht;  chie£ly  ethical  aud  theological,  but  not 
without  vivid  sketches  of  .scenery,  and  tliLsbes  of  genial  and  siditle 
criticism.  Few  critics  brought  such  liapjiy  itisight  to  ttieir  work,  or  j^^'e 
Buch  piiiraise  of  e.xcellence.  It  is  enough  to  mention  his  defence  ami 
aualysis  of  "  In  Memoriam,"  his  untini^hcd  essay  on  Wordsworth,  hia 
remarks  on  Timon  of  Athens  and  Sliakspere's  use  of  superstition,  his 
interjiretation  of  single  lines  from  Tennyson  and  Keble,  aud  the  brief 
notes  on  books  that  lie  scattered  tbruugh  his  corresiMjndence.*     Itut 


•  "LMtiirt*  nnd  Adilre*fM,"  pp.   155— IS!),  2I1P— 5SS,   !ftC-7,    167-9.     "Lftter?,"  i„ 
rp-  20lf,  2Gi(,  2TP.  i?,  79—-!. 


I'rederick  William  Robertson.  249 

the  Letters  and  the  Sermons  are  of  quite  different  characters.     The 
thinker,  with  his  unresolved  questions,  and  pain  of  doubt,  and  weari- 
ness, and  varying  moods,  appears  in  the  one  as  characteristically  as  the 
teacher  in  the  other.     It  is  some  time  before  we  can  feel  at  home  witli 
two  such  various  aspects  of  the  same  man.     The  way  in  which  the 
letters  have  been  selected  and  printed  adds  to  our  perplexity.     State- 
ments in  a  letter  are  not  as  dogmatically  exact  as  statements  from  the 
pulpit,  nor  as  dogmatically  exhaustive.     Half  their  meaning  must  be 
gathered  from  our  knowledge  of  wlien  and  to  wliom  they  were  written. 
Slany  of  these  letters  seem  to  liave  been  written  in  time  of  mental 
and  physical  torture ;  many  of  them  to  Unitariaus  and  sceptics.     It 
would  have  been  well  if  these  had  been  more  minutely  specified ;  for 
the  former  are  naturally  morbid,  and  the  latter  are  naturally  deficient 
ia  comprehensive  statements  of  truth,  and  botli  may  be  easily  mis- 
apprehended.    By  unexplained  and  unbalanced  passages  from  his  let- 
ters, it  would  be  possible  for  meu  of  negative  creeds  to  claim  him  with 
triumph ;  to  class  him  with  theologians  with  whom  he  had  scarcely 
icommon  principle ;  to  set  him  down  as  querulous,  and  accuse  him  of 
much  that  he  condemned.    It  is  questionable  whetlier  Sir.  Brooke  has 
not  been  over-considerate,  even  one-sided,  iu  what  he  has  excluded. 
There  must  have  been  brighter  and  cheerfuller  words  than  any  in 
these  volumes.     There  must  have  been  the  play  of  warm,  natural 
affections  relieving  the  sombre  history  of  mental  struggle.     There  are 
truer,  manlier,  and  happier  features  of  character  brought  out  in  the 
sermons  for  which  the  letters,  as  they  stand,  afford  little  counterpart. 
Yet  there  are  some  who  will  hold  it  unfair  to  judge  hbn  by  expres- 
sions wrung  out  by  suffering  from  a  weary  brain,  who  will  tiy  rather 
to  anderstand  than  to  condemn  him,  who,  if  they  wish  that  lie  were 
more,  will  be  thankful  for  what  he  is.     They  wdl  find  variance  from 
received  and  ancient  doctrines,  sometimes  of  the  widest  and,  I  think, 
saddest  sort ;  they  will  also  find  that  it  is  ofteu  more  in  the  way  of 
patting  truth  than  in  the  truth  itself.     They  may  differ  from  him 
widely,  but  the  more  thoughtful  they  are  they  will  find  the  more 
points  of  contact  with  his  writings,  the  more  help  from  the  spirit  ui 
which  he  taught.     Archer  Butler  wUl  always  rank  far  above  him  for 
eloquence,  and  Newman  for  metaphysical  and  dialectic  power;  but 
BQch  as  he  was,  his  time  has  accepted  Robertson  with  a  favour  not 
accorded  to  any  other  preacher.    For  indeed  he  was  more  a  representa- 
tive  than  a  creative  man ;   in  whom  the  character  of  the  time  at 
\\&  best  is  plainly  seen,  and  the  movement  of  theology ;  and  who, 
if  very  dear  to  those  whom  he  blessed,  may  yet  be  to  all  as  a  sign 
of  a  changed  religious  thought  and  the  necessity  of  reconstructing  a 
great  religioxis  party. 

W.  F.  Stevenson. 

VOL.  I.  s 


CONVOCATION. 


ANEW  Pailiaiueiit  is  always  accompanied  by  the  issue  of  fi-eah 
M'rita  to  the  Archbishops  of  Canterburj'  and  York,  requiring 
them  to  summon  a  new  Convocation  of  tlie  clergy  of  tlieii"  resi)ective 
provinces.  As  to  the  usefulness  of  this  ancient  assembly,  a  great 
difference  of  opinion  has  been  manifested  since  the  revival  of  its 
activity  in  the  year  1852,  after  a  suspension  of  nearly  a  eenturj-  and 
a  half.  But  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  the  last  Convocation  has 
succeeded  both  in  attracting  to  itself  far  more  of  the  attention  of  the 
public  thiui  its  predecessor  did,  and,  on  the  wliole,  in  obtaining  a 
firmer  footing.  Tlic  leading  daily  journal,  indeed,  es^jecially  during 
tlie  last  year,  assailed  it  in  several  articles,  embodying  those  feelings 
■of  antipathy  which  most  Englishmen  entertain  for  whatever  they  look 
■upon,  rightly  or  M'rongly,  as  indicating  the  pretensions  of  a  clerical 
caste.  But  the  effect  of  those  ai'ticlcs  was  more  that  of  an  advertise- 
ment than  anything  else.  It  was  difficult  to  believe  that  so  much 
pains  should  be  taken  t<)  neutralize  the  eifect  of  debates  which  were 
all  the  while  utterly  futile,  and  must,  in  their  nature,  remain  barren  of 
all  results ;  wbUe  at  the  same  time,  indiscriminate  attacks  upon  the 
-active  members  of  Convocation, — men  in  many  instances  eminent  for 
ability,  and  well  known  both  within  and  without  the  limits  of  their 
])rofessi on,— caused  some  reaction  in  favour  of  the  assembly  to  which 
they  belonged.    IJut  above  everything  else,  the  deepest  questions  con- 


Convocation.  25 1 

nected  with  theology  have  undoubtedly  acquired  a  predominant 
interest  with  the  educated  public  during  the  last  five  years ;  and  with 
these  Convocation  has  attempted  in  a  certain  way  to  deal.  AVhcther 
the  attempt  was  a  wise  cue  may  be  doubted;  but  of  the  interest 
which'  it  excited  among  the  clergy  generally,  and  a  large  number  of 
the  educated  laity,  there  can  be  no  question.  It  has  so  thorouglily 
roused  attention  to  the  point  of  what  the  legitimate  functions  of  Cou- 
Tocation  are,  that  of  all  issues  the  one  least  likely  seems  to  bo  that  it 
should  again  fall  into  the  state  of  suspended  animation  from  which  it 
was  so  lately  recalled.  Whether  for  good  or  for  evil,  the  sessions  in 
the  Jerusalem  Chamber  are  likely  to  be  resumed,  and  probably  to 
grow  in  length  and  importance,  during  the  interval  that  may  elapse 
before  the  next  dissolution  of  Parliament. 

The  public  in  general  is  so  ignorant  of  tlie  legal  fitatus  of  Convoca- 
tion, that  a  short  sketch  of  its  position  since  the  passing  of  the  Act  of 
Submission*  (which  may  be  regarded  as  the  commencement  of  the 
actual  constitution  of  Church  and  State)  is  necessary  to  enable  them 
to  form  a  judgment  as  to  the  limits  of  future  synodical  action.  Tlie 
first  step  towards  its  assemblage  is  for  the  Crown  to  issue  a  writ  to 
the  Archbishop  commanding  him  to  summon  the  bishops,  deans, 
Mchdeacons,  chaptei's,  and  clergy  of  his  province.  Unfortified  by  this 
writ,  the  Archbishop  cannot  now  move  without  incurring  the  pains 
and  penalties  of  prmmunirc.  Anciently  there  was  no  occasion  for 
him  to  wait  for  it,  and  he  coidd  summon  a  synod  of  the  bishops  and 
cleigy  of  his  province  whenever  he  thought  it  necessary.  This  right 
is,  in  fact,  traceable  in  the  next  part  of  the  proceeding.  Tlie  Arch- 
bishop does  not  (like  the  Lord  Chancellor  in  the  parallel  case  of 
Parliament)  act  ministerially,  issuing  such  and  so  many  writs  as  may 
be  particularized,  but  authoHlativeli/,  by  a  mandate,  in  his  own  uame 
and  under  his  own  seal,  to  the  Bishop  of  London,  who  is  the  Dean  of 
the  province  of  Canterbury,  and  who,  acting  ministerially,  transmits 
the  same  to  the  other  bishops  for  execution.  The  returns  to  these  writs 
are  deposited  in  the  register  of  tJie  see  of  Canterbury,  just  as  the 
returns  to  the  parliamentary  writs  are  deposited  in  the  Court  of 
Cbanceiy.  And  although  the  Royal  writ  is  recited  by  the  Archbishop 
before  his  own  mandate,  this  is  merely  to  show  that  the  latter  may 
he  obeyed  without  danger  by  the  parties  to  whom  it  is  addressed,  the 
ecclesiastical  forms  themselves  remaining  exactly  the  same  as  before 
the  passing  of  the  statute. 

On  Wednesday  the  1st  of  June,  1850,  tbe  late  Convocation  met,  in 
accordance  with  the  regular  mandate,  in  St.  I'auI's  Cathedral;  and, 
except  that  the  Archbishop  came  in  his  carriage,  and  not  in  his  barge 
from  Lambeth  to  Paul's  Wharf,  the  proceedings  were  precisely  in  the 

*  26  Uen.  VIII.,  c.  19. 


252  Tlie  Contemporary  Review. 

same  fomi  as  that  described  by  Archbishop  Parker  in  the  time  <rf 
Elizabeth.  The  Dean  and  Chapter  of  St.  Paul's  received  the  Primate, 
accompanied  by  his  chaplains  and  preceded  by  the  Apparitor-General, 
at  the  western  entrance  of  the  Cathedral,  and,  conducting  him  up  the 
central  aisle,  placed  him  in  the  Dean's  stall.  The  bishops  took  their 
places  on  either  side  in  the  stalls,  and  the  procession  was  closed  by 
clerjjy  of  the  province  following  after.  Then  came  the  Litany  in 
Latin ;  the  anthem,  "  Oh,  pray  i'or  the  ]ieace  of  Jerusalem;"  and  a  Latin 
sermon  by  Dr.  Waldegrave,  now  Bishop  of  Carlisle.  The  "  Gloria  in 
Excelsis  "  was  then  sung,  and  the  Archbishop  woimd  up  the  service 
by  pronouncing  the  benediction  in  Latin. 

After  tlie  conclusion  of  tlie  religious  ceremonies,  the  Archbishop, 
attended  l)y  the  bisliops  and  clerg)',  proceeded  to  the  Chapter-house, 
where  the  prelates  took  their  seats  and  the  rest  of  the  clergy  stood 
around.  The  Itegistrar  then  read  the  Queen's  writ  ordering  the  sum- 
mons of  a  Convocation,  and  the  Bishop  of  London  returned  the  Arch- 
bishop's mandate,  Avith  his  own  certificate  that  it  had  been  duly 
executed.  The  Registrar  then  called  over  (prceamizcd)  the  names  of 
the  other  bishops,  and  the  Archbishop  handed  over  the  certificates 
transmitted  by  them  to  his  Vicar-General,  Dr.  Travers  Twiss.  All 
members  of  Convocation  who  do  not  appear  in  person,  or  send  a 
suflicient  excuse,  are  pronounced  contumacious,  and  to  have  incurred 
tlie  penalty  of  contumacy;  but  at  the  same  time  the  enforcement  of 
the  penalty  is  suspended,  and  the  suspension  continued  from  day  to 
day  imtil  the  end  of  the  business  of  Convocation.  The  "Schedule  of 
Contumacy,"  after  being  read  on  this  occasion  by  the  Registrar,  was 
signed  by  the  .(\rchbishop  publicly,  after  which  he  admonished  the 
clergy  below  the  episcopal  dignity  to  withdraw,  under  tlie  direction  of 
the  Dean  of  St.  I*aul's,  to  a  chapel  at  the  north-west  end  of  the 
Cathedral,  to  choose  a  prolocutor,  and  to  present  him,  for  approval 
and  confirmation,  in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber  on  Wednesday  the  22nd 
of  June. 

When  the  ArchbLshop  anived  at  the  Jerusalem  Chamber  on  the 
day  named,  he  was  met  by  a  written  protest,  on  the  part  of  the  Dean 
and  Chapter,  agamst  any  infringement  of  their  liberties,  presented  on 
this  occasion  by  Canon  SVordsworth.  It  was  in  the  accustomed  form, 
and  was  answered,  as  on  all  foimer  occasions,  by  a  written  reply,  read 
by  the  Registrar  and  formally  signed  by  the  Archbishop.  The  junior 
Bisliop  (LlandafT)  then  read  the  Convocation  Litany  in  Latin,  alter 
which,  the  Archbishop  sitting  on  the  "Ti-ibunal,"  with  the  Bishops  of 
Liclifield,  Llandaff,  and  Oxford  on  either  side,  and  the  deans,  arch- 
deacons, and  inferior  clergy  standing,  Dr.  Elliott,  Dean  of  Bristol, 
the  I'rolocutor  chosen  by  the  Lower  House,  was  presented  to  and 
approved  by  him.     The  new  Prolocutor  thanked  the  Archbishop,  and 


Convocation,  253 

the  latter,  after  admonishing  the  clergy  of  the  Lower  House  to  remain 
with  the  Prolocutor  in  the  Jerusalem  Chamher  and  commence  their 
proper  business,  prorogued  Convocation  to  an  upper  room  in  tlie 
Bounty  Office,  which  is  the  regular  place  of  assemblage  for  the  so- 
called  Upper  House.  This  prorogation  also  takes  place  in  virtue  of  a 
written  document,  publicly  read  by  the  Registrar  and  signed  by  the 
Archbishop* 

The  above  forms,  the  antiquity  of  which  is  very  great,  are  all  con- 
ducted in  the  Latin  language,  and  they  show  veiy  plainly  the  relation 
in  which  what  are  now  in  common  parlance  termed  the  Upper  iii,.l 
Lower  Houses  of  Convocation  stand  to  one  another  and  likewise  to 
their  president.     The  whole  of  the  members  of  Convocation  do  in  fact 
constitute  only   one  House,  the   elements  of  which   are,   however, 
regarded  as  of  very  different  dignity.     The  paramount  su;^)eriority  of 
the  President  is  especially  manifest.     He  siunmous  the  clergy  of  his 
jffovince  (when  his  hands  are  once  untied  by  the  Royal  writ)  to  attend 
him  at  the  time  and  place  he  may  select.     He  judges,  in  tlie  event  of 
their  not  appearing,  of  tlie  validity  of  the  excuses  offered ;  and  where 
these  do  not  seem  to  him  satisfactory  he  pronounces  the  offenders 
contumacious,  and  reserves   to  hunself  the  power  of  inflicting   an 
adequate  penalty  upon  them,  wliatever  their  rank  in  the  Church. 
And  this  penalty  was  no  light  one  in  some  cases.     It  sometimes  tn*/c 
the  form  of  sequestration  of  the  income  of  their  beneKces,  sometiuies 
that  of  interdiction  from  the  participation  in  religious  services.     In 
1416,  Archbishop  Chichely  sequestrated  the  benefices  of  a  veij-  lai^e 
number  of  dehnqnents ;  for  no  less  than  nineteen  of  them  were  fonoaUy 
absolved,  not,  however,  without  first   making  submission,  and  each 
taking  an  oath  for  better  behaviour  in  the  time  to  con>e.     The  mem- 
bers of  Convocation,  on  the  otlier  hand,  wlio  are  below  the  episcopal 
Bmk,  occupy  an  altogether  inferior  position.     Not  only  do  they  stand 
when  in  the  presence  of  the  Upper  House,  but,  except  on  i-are  occa- 
sions, they  are  not  allowed  to  be  present  at  all.     The  Pi-olocutor  is  the 
organ  of  communication  between  them  and  the  President.     Through 

*  The  public  sig;naturc  by  tbe  Arcbbiabop,  and  in  presence!  of  the  whole  Convocation,  is 
DMeaBary  to  giTo  the  synodito]  character  to  any  formal  act.  It  is  just  as  indispensable  aa 
the  Royal  assent  to  an  Act  of  Parliament,  and  the  necessity  for  it  is  an  additional  sofi'guard 
Bgunst  the  danger  of  Convocation,  under  the  inllucnce  of  a  temporary  oxcitomcnt,  giving 
uthoritative  sanction  to  erroneous  positions,  Un  the  20th  of  June,  1861,  after  the  now 
canon  (relative  to  the  permission  of  parents  to  become  sponsotH)  had  been  framed  in  iitursu- 
mc«  of  licence  from  the  Cromi,  a  formal  proposal  of  the  intended  signature  was  sent  to  the 
Lover  House,  which  immediately  suspended  au  animated  debate  to  adopt  the  proposal. 
At  the  appointed  hour  (2  p.m.)  die  President,  accompanied  by  the  Bishops  of  Oxford,  St. 
Asaph,  and  Lincoln,  appeared  in  the  Jti'usaleDi  Chamber,  llis  Grace  then  proceeded,  lon- 
jointly  with  the  Prolocutor,  to  bold  the  copy  of  thi;  new  canon,  and  read  the  some  iiloud  to 
the  ftBacmblcd  sj'nod.  It  was  then  signed  by  all  members  of  both  Houses  pre^'ut.  The 
■ame  formalities  were  observed  in  a  more  important  matter — the  nc-n~  canons  on  subsciip- 
tion — on  June  29,  1865,  the  last  day  of  the  session. 


254  ^'^^  Contemporary  Review, 

him  all  messages  (after  he  is  once  appointed)  come  down  from  the 
Upper  House  to  them  ;  and  lie  is  the  channel  through  which  they  are 
bound  to  nialte  their  wishes  (as  a  House)  known  to  him.  At  one  time 
the  l*resident  even  nominated  the  Prolocutor ;  lie  now  always  approves 
him  before  he  is  allowed  to  act,  and,  should  he  be  temporarily  dis- 
abled, his  deputy  in  like  manner.  In  a  word,  the  whole  Convocation, 
in  the  idea,  depends  upon  the  Archbishop;  it  is  convened  (save  for 
the  Act  of  Submission)  at  his  will ;  it  deliberates  (subject  to  the  same 
limitation)  upon  such  subjects  as  he  may  think  proper  to  bring  before 
it ;  it  conducts  its  discussion  of  those  subjects  according  to  tlie  order 
he  may  indicate ;  it  continues  sitting  so  long  only  as  he  may  judge 
expedient ;  and  finally,  no  conclusion  at  which  it  may  arrive  has  any 
validity,  as  a  synodical  act,  until  reduced  to  wTiting  by  the  proper 
official,  and  formally  signed  by  himself  in  the  presence  of  both  HouscB 
united  in  one.  Tlie  bishops,  admitted  to  the  presence  of  the  I*rJmate 
as  confratrcs,  have  the  privilege  of  tendering  their  advice  as  to  any 
particular  course  of  action, — a  privilege  which  may  occasionally  make 
a  kindly  and  unsuspicious  nature  the  tool  of  a  coarser  and  more 
astute  one ;  but  in  the  long  nm  it  is  scarcely  possible  for  an  injudi- 
cious conclusion  to  be  formally  acquiesced  in,  Mdiere  proper  time  has 
been  given  for  liuly  ventilating  the  subject,  and  considering  it  in  all  its 
bearings,  unless  on  the  supposition  of  the  high  places  in  the  Churoh 
Ijeing  filled  up  more  reckles.sly  than  has  yet  been  done,  even  by  the 
most  reckless  of  ministers. 

The  separation  of  the  two  Houses,  however,  brings  about  a  state  of 
things  which  much  obscures  the  old  idea  of  Convocation.  The  stiff 
forms  and  the  Latin  are  thrown  aside  together  as  soon  as  this  opera- 
tion has  been  effected,  and  the  Jerusalem  Chamber  is  left  to  the  sole 
occupation  of  the  lower  prelates  (as  the  deans  and  archdeacons  are 
sometimes  called)  and  the  representatives  of  the  chapters  and  the 
parochial  clergy.     Its  full  numbera  are  thus  made  up : — 


Deans          .... 

24 

Archdeacons 

56 

Proctors  for  Chapters  . 

24 

Proctors  for  Dioceses    . 

42 

Total       .         .140 

The  chapters  each  send  one  repre-sentative,  and  the  dioceses  two;  but 
the  mode  of  electing  these  last  varies  considerably.  In  most  cases  the 
two  are  elected,  like  members  of  Parliament,  by  the  direct  choice  of  the 
whole  of  the  clergy  of  the  diocese.  In  some,  each  archdeaconry  elects 
a  couple,  and  the  bishop  selects  two  from  the  number  thus  submitted 
to  him.  In  the  diocese  of  Lichfield,  where  there  are  three  arch- 
deaconries, the  six,  elected  in  i)air8  by  the  three  bodies,  themselves 


Convocation.  255 

select  two  of  their  own  number  to  serve  as  pi-octors  for  the  whole. 
There  are  other  anomalies,  to  none  of  which  there  is  any  occasion 
here  to  refer ;  but  it  may  be  mentioned,  that  in  the  province'^of  York 
each  archdeaconry  returns  two  proctors,  all  of  whom  sit. 

It  is  only  the  beneficed  clergy  who  vote  for  the  parochial  proctors. 
In  most  chapters  the  canons  alone  elect  their  representative :,  in  some 
the  prebendaries  who  are  not  residentiaries  join  in  the  election ;  but 
in  none  do  the  honorary  canons  (a  class  of  titular  dignitarie3_,wliich 
have  recently  been  created)  have  any  share  in  the  privilege.  This 
anomaly  adroits  of  an  easy  explanation.  Convocation  was  in  early 
times  summoned,  at  the  instance  of  the  Crown,  for  the  same  purposes 
that  Parliament  was — viz.,  to  obtain  a  subsidy ;  and  as  only  tliose 
who  possessed  taxable  property  were  called  upon  to  contribute,  no . 
others  were  considered  to  have  any  interest  in  the  matter.  The  power 
of  self-taxation  remained  witli  the  clergy  mitil  (juito  modern  times. 
Down  to  the  year  1664  they  had  always  taxed  tlieiiiselves  in  Convo- 
cation, their  proceedings  being  afterwards  confirnmd  by  I*arliameut. 
But  at  that  time  an  arrangement  was  made  between  Archbishop  Shel- 
don and  the  Lord  Chancellor  (Clarendon),  by  which  the  clergy  silently 
waved  their  privilege,  and  submitted  to  be  included  in  the  money 
bills  of  the  House  of  Commons.  "Whatever  opinion  may  be  enter- 
tained of  the  expediency  of  this  change,  there  can  be  no  doubt  it  was 
the  most  important,  in  a  constitutional  point  of  view,  that  could  pos- 
sibly take  place.  The  Crown  from  that  moment  lost  all  interest  in  the 
regular  assembling  of  Convocation ;  and  Convocation  at  the  same  time 
lost  the  power — which  not  many  years  ago  would  have  been  a  most 
valuable  one — of  su^esting  a  fresh  distribution  of  the  revenues  of  the 
Church,  which  might  perhaps  have  produced  whatever  good  has  been 
done  by  the  Ecclesiastical  Commission,  without  the  evils  that,  in  the 
estimation  of  most  thinking  men,  have  accompanied  the  changes 
eifected  by  a  too  hasty  legislation. 

However  glaring  the  anomalies  in  the  representation  of  the  clergy 
in  the  Lower  House  may  be,  now  that  a  numerous  body — that  of 
stipendiary  curates — has  sprung  into  existence,  without  any  direct 
power  of  sending  representatives  of  its  interests  to  Convocation,  it 
may  be  doubted  whether  any  practical  grievance  exists  which  would 
not  be  removed  by  the  synod  as  at  present  constituted,  were  its 
removal  possible  without  the  aid  of  Parliament,  liut  a  decided  con- 
viction seems  to  prevail  among  the  members  who  possess  the  greatest 
influence,  and  form  the  most  powerful  party  in  the  assembly,  that  the 
invoking  this  aid  is  a  policy  which  must  be  shunned  at  all  cost.  On 
the  other  hand,  a  deeply  rooted  jealousy  of  the  spirit  of  ecclesiastical 
domination  has  operated  upon  others — perhaps  the  majority — and 
induced  them  to  absent  themselves  from  the  meetings  of  Convocation, 


256  Tlie  Contemporary  Review. 

as  a  sort  of  protest  against  the  high-flowii  theories  of  its  functions 
which  they  liear  pro^wunded.  The  result  haa  been  that  the  benches 
of  the  Lower  House  have  been  mainly,  and  till  of  late  almost  exclu- 
sively, occupied  by  the  advocates  of  one  class  of  views,  as  unpopular 
us  they  are  decided.  But  this  party,  although  well  organised,  and 
led  by  an  ecclesiastical  champion  whose  abilities  and  courage  are 
admitted  even  by  those  who  most  deprecate  the  policy  they  are 
employed  in  furthering,  is  an  extremely  small  one.  Thar  attendanca 
on  Ctinvocation  is  most  diligent ;  and  yet,  during  the  last  six  yean, 
the  numbers  present  in  the  Lower  House  probably  never  equalled 
one-thirtl  of  its  members,  \mtil  the  excitement  caused  by  the  publica- 
tion of  the  noted  "  Essays  and  Keviews."  And  when  that  excitement 
was  at  its  climax,  in  consequence  of  an  unexpected  opposition  suddenly 
showing  itself  to  tlie  rash,  and  (in  the  opinion  of  many)  altogether 
irregular  proceedings  whicli  issued  in  the  condemnation  of  the  book, 
the  number  present  at  the  decisive  division  rose  only  to  fifty-eight! 
Tlie  remaining  eiglity-eiglit,  from  whatever  cause,  took  no  part  in  the 
matter,  although  the  assertion  of  a  claim  to  a  censorship  cannot  be 
regarded  as  a  thing  of  small  importance  to  Knglishmen,  whether 
clerks  or  lapnen  ;  and  the  magnitude  of  the  religious  questions  which 
supplied  a  pretext  for  such  a  claim  can  hardly  be  exa^erated. 

AVe  are  no  ardent  admirei-s  of  Convocation  as  it  is ;  nor  have 
the  doubts  of  the  expediency  of  its  revival,  which  were  su^ested  at 
the  time  when  its  resuscitation  took  place,  been  removed  by  what 
has  since  occurred.  But  of  one  thing  we  feel  sure,  that  it  lias 
secured  for  itself  such  an  amount  of  rec<jgnition.  that  it  becomes  a 
dereliction  of  duty,  on  tlie  part  of  those  who  are  elected  to  it,  to  ignore 
its  ^cxistonce,  and  refuse  to  contribute  their  share  of  wisdom  and 
discretion  to  restrain  its  powera  from  mischief,  and  develop,  so  far  as 
may  be,  its  capacities  for  good.  It  sliould  not  be  forgotten,  that  even 
the  opponents  of  the  tiulmlcut  Attcrbuiy  and  bis  party,  owing  to  whose 
proceedings  the  regular  meeting  nf  Convocation  wiis  disused,  were  by 
no  menus  willing  to  purehase  peace  at  such  a  price.  Wake  and 
Gibson  thought  no  less  of  the  necessity  of  synods  than  did  their 
adversaries,  with  whom  their  sole  issue  was  as  to  the  manner  of  con- 
ducting thein.  And  whetlier  tins  opinion  of  their  necessity  be  well 
or]  ill-fomided,  it  is  clearly  impossible  to  abolish  a  constitutional 
right,  which  cannot  be  gainsaid,  so  long  as  men  are  found  to  take 
advantage  of  it.  if  the  number  of  such  increases, — if  high  legal 
functionaries  oi>euly  justify  their  pretensions, — if  in  fact  there  is  no 
argument  against  the  constitutional  right,  except  that  iu  tlie  opinion 
of  the  greater  i)art  of  the  world  it  is  a  pity  it  should  exist,  the  time 
for  a  policy  of  inaction  is  certainly  past  for  all  wlio  wish  to  exert  their 
due  influence  on  the  fortunes  of  the  Church. 


Convocation.  257 

It  is  only  justice,  too,  to  the  leaders  of  the  Lower  House  of  Con- 
vocation, to  declare  that  they  have  addressed  themselves  to  the  con- 
sideration of  matters  seriously  affecting  the  interests  of  both  clergy 
and  laity,  and  which  cannot  be  looked  upon  in  the  light  of  party 
questions ; — such  are,  the  ways  and  means  of  extending  the  operations 
(rf  ■Uie  Church,  by  an  increase  in  the  number  of  bishoprics  both  at 
home  and  abroad ;  by  missions  to  the  heathen ;  by  lay  co-operation  at 
home ;  by  the  preparation  of  new  services  adapted  to  special  occasions. 
The  question  of  religious  sisterhoods,  too,  and  that  of  the  training  of 
the  deigy,  have  been  handled  ;  and  on  these  and  cognate  matters 
reports  have  been  drawn  up,  containing  a  great  deal  of  information, 
and  valuable,  if  for  no  other  reason,  at  any  rate  for  embodying  the 
views  of  men  well  acquainted  with  the  subject.  The  defects  of  the 
existing  Law  of  Dilapidations,  the  burden  of  the  maintenance  of 
chancels,  and  the  difficulties  attendant  on  the  enforcement  of  Chxirch 
Bates,  have  likewise  not  escaped  attention ;  neither  has  the  abuse  of 
excessive  Consecration  charges,  and  the  hardship  of  insufficient  en- 
dowment of  parishes.  However  inadequate  an  assembly  Convocation 
may  be  to  settle  such  questions  as  these  authoritatively,  nothing  but 
good  can  result  from  their  full  discussion,  especially  if  all  parties  in 
the  Church  that  have  its  interests  sincerely  at  heart  would  freely  put 
their  opinions  forward,  and  not  keep  away  from  the  Jerusalem  Cham- 
ber from  a  dread  of  finding  themselves  in  a  minority. 

The  mode  of  conducting  business  in  Convocation,  ill  adapted  as  it  is 
to  a  l^islative  body,  is  very  far  from  being  unsuited  to  that  function 
to  which  it  is  to  be  hoped  the  synod  will  ultimately  confine  itself, — 
the  function  of  a  standing  committee  of  inquiry  on  church  matters. 
After  prayers  have  been  read,  and  the  names  of  members  prwconized, 
the  next  thing  is  the  presentation  of  petitions.  If  these  take  the 
form  of  the  statement  of  a  grievance  and  a  prayer  for  its  redress,  they 
are  called  by  the  teclmical  name  of  gravamina.  If  they  proceed  from 
any  member  or  members  of  the  Lower  House,  the  Prolocutor  is  bound 
to  take  them  to  the  President,  to  whom  and  the  other  bishops  they  are 
all  addressed.  But  they  are  still  nothing  mora  than  petitions  of  the 
individuals  from  whom  they  emanate,  unless  the  Lower  House  chooses 
to'adopt  them,  from  the  importance  of  the  matters  to  which  they  refer, 
and  to  desire  the  Prolocutor  to  take  them  up  in  the  name  of  the  House. 
A  gravamen,  so  adopted,  becomes  an  articulus  den.  But  when  several 
petitions  ase  brought  before  the  notice  of  the  Lower  House,  all  bearing 
upon  the  same  grievance,  it  is  not  imusual  to  refer  the  whole  of  them 
(with  the  consent  of  the  petitioners)  to  a  committee  called  the  Com- 
mittee of  Gravamina,  to  be  reduced  to  some  general  form  embodying 
the  whole,  which  itself  is  then  submitted  as  an  articulus  cleri,  and 
goes  up^to  the  President  in  Heu  of  the  gravamina  on  which  it  is 


2:^8 


The  Contemporary  Review, 


fonn(ia(I.  It  is  plain,  that  by  this  proceeding,  if  lionestly  followetl 
uut,  a  {p-eat  deal  of  trauble  is  saved  tfl  tlie  Ujiper  House,  who  get  the 
siiliject-matter  which  tliey  have  to  handle  in  a  highly  conceutrated 
fonii,  and  complete  in  all  its  hearings.  Hut  to  refer  a  tjrammcn  to 
such  11  comntittoe  ^vitEiuut  the  cunstiit  of  its  frtimer,  is  manifestly 
uncoustitiitioual.  as  it  amounts  tu  intLTcupting  access  to  the  Upper 
House  by  way  of  petition,  which  is  the  conuuon  law  riglit  of  every 
clergyman,  if  not  even  of  every  hiy  member  of  the  Church.  It  hua 
only  once  been  done,  luid  will  scarcely  be  repeated.' 

"When  any  matter  has  been  bronyht,  either  by  petition  or  otherwise, 

*  This  H  so  iaportivit  b  raattn,  tLnt  ve  mslce  do  apology  fm  the  foUo'n^g  extnicta 
from  ihe  C/iraiiie/e  n/  (hnvncntieri : — 

(i.)  On  Ihi!  IQth  nf  Juno,  185S,  flhe  I'ralocntor  (Dr.  Elliott,  Dean  of  BnBlfll)  Mud,  "  I 
haru  been  i-cniteslwl  by  sevcnil  imeniborsof  Ihe^Lower  House — not  by  the  EaiiM  itwlf — tc 
pbce  their  bcvokJ  ^i-niumnHd  before  roiir  Gruce.  The  tTiIe  whi'h  th<^  Ijjwer  llouae  aeetna 
inclined  to  maintain  la  this,  ihat  when  a  grnrainen  ie  laid  lifftirw  llie  LowiT  Home,  which 
clnliuB  the  attenttQn  or  inU-rfiTein'e  r1'  Convocation,  it  caimiac  be  prtaenlti  ta  your  Grace  by 
t!ie  J'njlinjiitor,  04  ri-pTcstating  ihe  l/jw^r  Uoust?^  \iithi>m  iU  ipti-ial  pMit.  Thm  whtn  liie 
House  rcfusM  its  snncliDO  in  this  nianiiLir  to  grnrnuthta,  or  rannot  iVom  any  othtr  reason 
entertain  thi?ir  eon  side  rati  on,  \h»  indiTidunl  ini?iikl>ers  of  Ihs  Lower  Uousq  are  fntitlcil 
to  (^  UpCn  thD  Prolocutor  tn  cffiivey  lliem  lo  the  lianids  of  ihe  rn^aident.  For  my 
part,  1  helieva  thai  any  por*)!!  whattvci-,  lay  or  cIbHd  (and  at  coui-so  memhers  of  the 
Lower  Howsc),  rnny  aildreu  eilht^r  petition,  ffrafamtji,  or  re/ormaniium  to  your  Grare  aa 
pmiileiit,  oitbcT  direelly  or  through  tliv  intcn'cntion  of  a  biiUcip,  bL>ing  member  of  the 
nppur  UoUBP,  and  that  ai'j^grdingly  the  jilten't'lltion  of  the  ProIocuUr  U  not  neuQiaaiy.  I 
barG  lo  repeat  that  tlio  grevomiui'  wliicli  I  now  f  reseat  are  tboaeof  tlte  individuaii  aigniup 
theiu,  nad  not  ofiii?  Lo«-er  IIpube. 

"The  Pkasikent  (Archbishop  Sumner). — So  doubt  clergymen,  ishether  mcmbera  ot 
the  Lower  Hoiiso  or  not,  are  at  liberty  to  presant  petitioiiH  to  this  Uoiise ;  but  what  I 
receive  through  the  Fiulorutor  makca  it  a  measuTc  of  the  I«wer  Houae.  It  woulii  I*; 
contrary  to  usage  to  Tecciv<?  their  reprtflenloliona  in  aay  ntJitr  woVf  or  petitions  which  an 
act  lietitiriLs  of  the  Lower  l[ou#(%  through  him. 

"C.*>ON  WniU'^woKTM  (ono  of  the  rrtilocutor'a  assessorB). — Uavu  wo  the  riglit  W 
express  oicr  persiumon  as  tg  the  law  and  piartiee-  of  ConrovRtiou  t 

"Tub  Pkesiuest.— Only  throuKh  tliu  i'lulotulor.     The  rresiJent knows  nothing  of  1 
other  Udusc  but  through  Ibe  I'rolotutor. 

"Tile  Biemor  df  OxrokD, — .Will  your  Grace  allow  me  to  consider  the  point? 

"  'I'liE  fuEsiDHiT. — I  think  the  quention  i*  decided. " 

Tbo  Proloculvr  and  his  ajwiK^O'rs  having  retin^d,  11  thart  diseusuoQ  took  placr,  in  vbi^ 
i--oiar*e  of  whieh  Gihson's  detiniiioas  of  g-raranmm  tin<l  Trfurmaiida  were  reftrrcii  to  and 
C0D(itIen>d.  At  the  elosc  of  thu  con  versa  tion  the  I'rgloculor  was  sent  for,  and  the  rnJESi- 
DBNT  said :  "  It  has  b«cn  represented  to  me  by  a  menibcr  of  the  U[ipeT  Uoiise  that  the 
ichedulcs  otTered  to  me  contaia  refer maridir.  As  such  I  am  ready  lo  recelTe  Ihfiin  through 
the  biindB  of  th«  l'rolo*!titor." 

(11.)  A  apoit  ni  a,  ComtmttRe  of  Oravammn,  presented  to  Con^ocatinn  on  the  :!Olh 
*st  July,  1^34,  and  adapted  by  the  Lower  Houbo  the  next  acEiioD,  containa  the  follcwlng 
pBTBgrapli : — "  WTieii  whednieB  of  i/rarairf'ia  out  1  tfminan^a  ur*  prcwntcd  to  tho  Jlousa, 
they  may  be  refurrtd,  up^m  a  nintian  duly  made  anil  carried,  to  tk  «>ammittae  of  gracamimu 
tC  rrfurmainla,  by  which  they  may  be  r<?coiniiiMid«l  as  proper  subjects  to  be  mode  arlifi'U 
flerit  to  be  presented  as  such  to  the  Upper  Tlouae  thrungh  tbti  Prolucutor  ■  but  Other 
ffiartmhia  or  yrfortnamiit,  more  fArtimJurly  if  tiiey  be  of  a  lotul  and  spedal  rather  than  of 
a  gcaenil  character,  may  be  trani-mitti'd  to  the  Upper,  Houae  tliruugh  the  I'roliwutor,  in 
ib^  name  sf  the  meiubcr  who  pretcnta  them." 


i4^^ 


Convocation.  259 

under  the  cognizance  of  the  Upper  House,  it  is  the  common  practice 
for  them  to  appoint  a  committee  to  report  on  the  matter.  Sometimes 
tliis  committee  consists  of  bishops  oiily ;  sometimes  of  members  of 
both  Houses;  and  sometimes  a  message  is  sent  to  the  Lower  House 
desiring  them  to  appoint  members  of  their  own  body  to  constitute  a 
committee.  This  the  Lower  House  cannot  refuse  in  direct  terms ;  as 
neither  can  they  any  command  of  the  Archbisliop's,  the  theory  being 
that  every  member  is  at  the  President's  disposal,  to  be  made  use  of  in 
assisting  him  in  any  matter  that  may  occur  affecting  the  interests  of 
the  Church.  In  the  disputes  between  the  two  Houses,  which  occurred 
in  the  few  years  immediately  preceding  the  suspension  of  Convoca- 
tion, the  Lower  House  made  strong  efforts  to  escape  from  this  respon- 
sibility, but  without  effect.  An  indirect  consequence  of  the  right  is, 
that  any  discussion  which  is  going  on  in  the  Lower  House  in  a 
manner  unpalatable  to  the  Upper,  may  be  suddenly  interrupted  by  a 
message  to  take  some  other  subject  into  consideration  forthwith.  But 
if  the  Lower  House  feel  strongly  on  the  matter,  they  usually  reply  to 
such  a  message  by  a  humble  request  for  more  time  to  finish  what 
they  are  about,  or  by  some  similar  piece  of  deprecation.  Sometimes 
the  Lower  House  appoint  committees  of  tlieir  own  body  for  purposes 
connected  with  their  own  proceedings,  and  these  arc  in  some  cases 
permanent,  as  the  "  Committee  of  Gravamiim  "  above-mentioned  ;  tlie 
"  Committee  of  Privileges,"  who  investigate  all  matters  connected 
with  the  rights  of  the  House ;  and  the  "  Committee  of  Expenses," 
whose  duty  is  the  unpleasant  one  of  regulating  the  disbursement  of 
fimds  whicli  have  only  a  very  shadowy  existence.  When  the  atten- 
tion of  the  House  was  attracted  to  the  publication  of  the  Bishop  of 
Natal,  a  committee  was  formed  for  the  purpose  of  examining  the  pre- 
cedents for  censuring  heretical  publications  ;  but  its  investigations 
were  of  too  tedious  a  character  for  the  impatience  of  the  majority, 
and  its  report  was  not  presented  until  after  the  censors  had  committed 
themselves  to  a  mode  of  proceeding  for  which  it  turned  out  that  no 
sufficient  precedents  could  be  found.  But  however  much  in  parti- 
cular instances  passion  or  partisanship  may  work  temporary  mischief, 
the  method  of  proceeding  by  committees  is  one  calculated  to  insure 
the  fullest  consideration  of  any  subject,  as  well  as  the  most  lucid 
exposition  of  its  various  bearings. 

When  a  committee  has  presented  its  report,  this  must  wait  its  turn 
for  discussion,  unless  its  importance  is  so  great  that  the  House  deems 
it  desirable  to  suspend  the  standing  orders  in  order  to  take  it  into 
consideration  at  once.  No  debate  can  take  place  on  tlie  motion  to 
suspend  the  standing  orders.  The  mover  states  the  reason  which 
influences  him,  and  the  House  at  once  decides  Aye  or  No.  Standing 
orders  may  in  the  same  way  be  suspended  to  allow  a  motion  to  come 


26o  The  Contemporary  Review. 

on  at  once.  Tlie  practice  in  the  conduct  of  debates  is  to  allow  every 
member  to  speak  once  on  eacli  amendment,  and  also  on  the  original 
motion.  He  cannot  speak  twice  except  by  way  of  explanation,  unless 
with  the  permission  of  the  House  ;  but  thLs  is  very  often  given,  or  at 
least  assumed.  There  is  perhaps  no  part  of  its  proceedings  iu  which 
the  Lower  House  appears  to  less  advantage  than  in  the  way  iu  which 
it  handles  amendments,  which  sometimes  bear  scarcely  any  assignable 
relation  to  the  original  motion,  and  yet  are  allowed  to  be  put ;  while 
occasionally  those  which  have  a  totally  different  bearing  from  one 
another  are  regarded  as  identical,  because  they  are  equally  prejudicial 
to  the  first  motion.  The  cause  probably  is  the  very  circumstance 
which  renders  Convocation,  as  we  liave  remarked  above,  well  adapted 
for  a  commission  of  inquiry, — the  habit  in  each  member  of  looking  at 
all  questions  from  one  special  point  of  view,  In  the  belief  that  it  is 
the  only  possible  one,  and  that  no  compromise  is  conceivable  without 
sacrifice  of  tlie  truth.  This  is  the  characteristic — some  may  call  it 
virtue,  some  vice — of  the  clerical  mind.  The  more  elaborate  speeches 
which  are  delivered  are  simply  essays,  developing  the  thoughts  of  the 
speaker  on  the  thesis  before  him,  but  rarely  evincing  an  ability  to 
enter  uito  the  views  of  an  opponent.  It  is  only  on  rare  occasions 
that  there  is  a  real  debate  in  tlie  proper  sense  of  tlie  word, — a  grap- 
pling with  arguments  as  they  arise  in  the  course  of  the  discuMion, — 
a  distinct  issue  joined,  and  a  definite  advantage  gained.  There  are, 
however,  some  conspicuous  exceptions  to  the  prevalent  incapacity  for 
practical  agonisties,  who  would  do  honoui"  t«  any  deliberati\^ 
as.sembly ;  and  for  courtesy  and  good  temper  the  Lower  House 
certainly  need  not  fear  comparison  with  Parliament. 

As  was  to  l»e  expected,  by  far  the  most  animated  debates  which 
took  place  in  the  late  Convocation  were  those  which  amse  out  of  the 
attempt  to  constitute  it  a  tribunal  for  the  censure  of  heretical  books, 
and  (in  the  sequel  of  this)  the  attack  upon  the  constitution  of  the 
Court  of  Final  Appeal  in  doctrinal  cases.  The  principal  promoters  of 
the  former  movement  were,  as  might  have  been  expected  fi-om  their 
known  ecclesiastical  tendencies,  Archdeacim  Denison  in  tlie  Lower, 
and  the  Bishtip  of  Oxford  in  the  Upper  House.  On  February  20th, 
1861,  when  the  matter  was  first  introduced  into  Convocation,  the 
X/)wer  House,  whih;  expressing  almost  imiversaUy  a  disaiJiirobntion  of 
the  noted  "  Essays  and  Eeviews,"  was  content,  under  the  influence  of 
Ciiiion  AVurdswortli,  to  recoi-d  its  feelings  iu  the  following  temperate 
re.solution : — 

"That  the  clei^y  uf  thn  Lower  House  of  ('onvocsition  of  the  province  of 
Cnuterbiiry,  having  regjiRl  to  tlio  c:cusure  which  bns  already  been  pronouDced 
and  published  by  tlie  Aichbidhop  and  Jiishops  of  the  [novinces  of  Canter- 
bury and  York,  on  certiiin  opinions  contained  in  a  Ijook  entitled  'Es-^iya 


Convocation.  261 

and  Keviews,'  entertain  an  earnest  hope  that,  under  the  Divine  blessing,  the 
fiiithful  zeal  of  the  Christian  Church  in  this  land  may  be  enabled  to  counter- 
act the  pernicious  influence  of  the  erroneous  opinions  contained  in  the  said 
volume." 

This  resolution  passed  by  a  large  majority;  but  the  next  day,  on  a 
motion  being  made  for  communicatiug  it  to  the  Upper  House,  a 
member  got  up  to  say  that  he  had  reason  to  believe  that  such  a  i)ro- 
ceeding  would  give  no  satisfaction.  An  explanation  of  this  change  of 
purpose  soon  appeared.  The  Bishop  of  Oxford  and  Dr.  Jelf,  in  their 
respective  Houses,  presented  petitions  from  the  English  Church  Union, 
praying  that  synodical  action  might  be  talien  against  the  obnoxious 
(loctrinea,  and  on.tbe  2nd  of  March,  Archdeacon  Denison,  although  he 
had  himself  been  the  seconder  of  Dr.  "Wordsworth's  resolution,  gave 
notice  that  at  the  next  meeting  of  tlie  House — then  about  to  adjourn 
for  nearly  a  fortnight — he  would  move  the  susjjension  of  standing 
orders,  in  order  to  address  the  Upper  House  witli  a  request  to  appoint 
a  committee  to  examine  the  book  and  report  upon  it.  AVlien  the 
14th  of  March  arrived,  an  appropriate  gravamen,  with  twenty  names 
attached  to  it,  was  handed  to  the  Prolocutor,  and  in  order  to  avoid  the 
necessity  for  suspending  standing  orders,  whicli  would  perhaps  not 
have  been  carried,  it  was  proposed  that  this  gravamen  should  be  made 
the  gravamen  of  the  whole  House.  But  it  being  urged  that  this  was 
only  an  indirect  method  of  making  it  an  articidics  clcri,  it  was  taken 
up  to  the  President  simply  as  the  gravamen  of  twenty  individuals. 
Yet,  momentous  as  this  first  step  to  the  establishment  of  a  censorship 
was,  so  little  were  any  but  the  movers  of  the  business  aware  of  the 
principles  at  issue,  that  the  twenty  signatories  were,  in  the  belief  of 
the  Prolocutor,  the  majority  of  the  memliers  present  in  the  Lower 
House.*  The  Bishop  of  Oxford  was  of  course  ready  to  receive  it  on 
its  arrival  in  the  Upper  House,  and  moved  that  the  Arclibisliop  be 

"  Requested  to  direct  the  Lower  House  to  appoint  a  committee  to  examine 
'  Essays  and  Reviews,'  and  report  to  the  Lower  House  thereon ;  in  onler 
that  it  may  communicate  to  this  House  its  opinion  whether  there  are  sufti- 
cient  grounds  for  proceeding  to  a  synodical  judgment  upon  this  hook." 

After  an  animated  debate,  remarkable  for  a  very  curious  passage  of 
arms  between  the  Bishop  of  Oxford  and  Dr.  Baring,  then  Bishop  of 
Gloucester,  and  now  of  Durham,-f  the  motion  was  carried  by  a  majority 
of  eight  to  four,  and  the  next  day  the  committee  was  appointed,  with 

"  Chroniete  of  Convoeation,  p.  651.    It  turned  out  that  there  were  forty  members  preatnt. 

t  Dr.  Baring  eipreseed,  in  more  contemptuous  phraseology  thaa  it  is  usual  for  dignified 
clergymen  to  employ,  his  opinion  that  CouTocation  waa  not  to  be  regarded  aa  the  represent- 
ative of  tho  Church ;  whereupon  hia  brother  prelate  informed  him  that  he  had  eubjecti'd 
himself  to  the  penalty  of  excommunication.  He  replied  that  on  tho  authority  of  the  Bishop 
of  Oxford  himself,  such  excommunication  did  not  operato  till  <:atled  into  action  by  the 
dioceean,  and  that  it  was  not  his  intontion  to  exercise  this  power  against  himself. 


262  The  Contemporary  Review. 

ArchilL'acou  Denison  as  its  pernmueut  chairman.  On  the  18tli  of 
June  their  report  was  presented  to  the  Lower  House,  and  was  taken 
into  consideration  on  the  20th  and  21st,  in  a  most  lively  and  ably  con- 
ducted discussion,  which,  after  repeated  amendments,  all  tending  in 
one  way  or  other  to  moderate  proceedings,  had  been  moved  by  the 
Dean  of  Ely,  Drs.  Sel^\7n  and  Jeremie,  two  theological  professore 
of  the  University  of  Cambridge,  and  Canon  Wordsworth,  at  last  issued 
in  the  adoption  of  Archdeacon  Denison's  resolution,  that  in  the 
opinion  of  the  Lower  House  there  were  sufficient  grounds  for  pro- 
ceeding to  a  syiiodical  judgment  upon  the  book.  This  resolution  was 
sent  up  to  tlie  Upper  House  on  July  9th,  tlie  day  to  whicli  Convoca- 
tion had  been  prorogued,  but  in  the  meantime  the  Bishop  of  Salisbury 
commenced  proceedings  against  one  of  the  writers  of  the  volume,  Br. 
Williams ;  and  in  >iew  of  the  possibility  that  some  of  the  bishops 
might  have  to  sit  in  judgment  upon  him  in  the  event  of  an  appeal  to 
the  Privy  Council  (as  really  turned  out),  it  was  resolved  to  answer  the 
Lower  House  that  it  was  expedient  to  adjourn  the  further  prosecution 
of  the  matter  pending  the  suit.  The  resolution  to  this  effect  was 
moved  and  seconded  by  the  Bishops  of  Chichester  and  St.  Asaph,  two 
of  the  prelates  who  had  voted  in  the  majority  on  the  14th  of  March. 
Whether  in  the  interval  the  danger  of  the  course  they  were  entering 
upon  had  been  brought  home  to  the  Upper  House,  it  is  impossible  to 
say ;  but  the  resolution  was  passed  without  debate  or  division,  although 
both  the  Bishops  of  Oxfoi-d  and  Salisbury  were  present.  Two  years 
afterwards,  the  latter  complained  bitterly  of  the  course  which  was 
taken,  in  terms  which  sufficiently  explain  the  anxiety  which  he  at 
least  felt  for  synodical  action  : — 

"  Of  course,  if  this  Synod  liad  expressed  a  deliberate  judgment  with 
regard  to  the  book,  v\ij  hnmls  iroidd  have  been  strengthened  vrith  regard  to 
the  prosecution  I  had  instituted  ugninjit  one  of  the  writers,  and  mij  course 
would  have  henn  a  jnueh  more  easy  one." 

Fortunately  for  the  cliaracter  of  the  English  bench,  the  notion  of 
utilizing  "  the  Church  of  England  by  representation,"  to  prejudice  the 
position  of  the  defendant  in  a  criminal  suit,  did  not  commend  itself  to 
them,  nor  even,  as  it  would  seem,  to  the  one  among  them  whom  the 
Bishoj)  of  Salisbury  made  the  confidant  of  his  "  painful  feelings  "  at 
tlie  time.* 

Convocation  did  not  meet  after  this  for  business  till  February  11th, 
1862,  when  the  Bishop  of  Oxford  and  the  Archdeacon  again  appeared 
at  their  posts.  The  former  threw  off  in  the  L^pper  House  with  a  peti- 
tion from  fom-  churchwardens  of  the  diocese  of  London,  urgently 
calling  for  "  the  resumption  of  synodal  action  throughout  the  Queen's 
dominions ; "  while  the  latter  placed  a  protest  against  the  conduct  of 

•  C/iro»iile  0/  Chnrocalion,  p.  UGH. 


Convocation.  263 

the  Upper  House,  under  the  form  of  a  Qravaim^i,  iii  the  hand  of  the 
Prolocutor.    After  reciting  the  circumstances  above-mentioned,  he — 

"  Begs  respectfully  to  state,  tliat  it  appears  to  him  tliat  the  mispension  of 
synodical  proceedings  in  this  ca^e  is  greatly  to  be  regretted  for  the  reasons 
following ; — because,  1 .  Tlic  grounds  assigned  for  such  suspension  do  not  appear 
to  him  to  be  valid  or  sufficient.  2.  IJy  resting  such  suspension  on  the  grounds 
assigned,  two  tilings  appear  to  him  to  have  been  mixed  up  togetlier,  which 
should  carefully  be  kept  ajwirt,  namely,  proceedings  in  synod,  and  proceed- 
ings in  court.  3.  Not  only  do  proceedings  in  synod  and  proceedings  in 
court  appear  to  him  to  liave  bi'en  tlms  mixed  up  together,  but  the  former 
appear  to  him  to  have  been  sul>ordinated  to  the  latter.  4.  Such  subordina- 
tion would  be,  for  solemn  rujiaons  upon  which  the  undersigned  does  not  here 
enter,  unfitting  in  itself,  and,  in  its  effects,  injiuious  to  the  authority  of  the 
Church  to  guide  and  warn  in  controversies  of  faith." 

This  gravamen,  was  left  for  signature  by  any  other  members  who  might 
choose ;  but  it  does  not  appear  to  have  been  taken  up  to  the  President. 
It  would  be  diflBcult  to  fi-amc  any  document  more  at  variance  with  the 
fundamental  relations  of  the  members  to  their  President,  or  one  more 
audaciously  defiant  in  its  tone;  and  possibly  some  consciousness  of 
this  fact  may  have  dawned  over  its  framer  in  liis  cooler  moments.  At 
all  events,  the  gravamen  did  not  reach  tlie  Upper  House,  or,  if  it  did, 
escaped  all  notice ;  and  the  prosecution  of  the  obnoxious  volume  in 
synod  was  suspended  for  two  years.  In  the  meanwhile,  the  publication 
of  the  Bishop  of  Natal  on  the  Pentateuch  was  brought  under  the 
notice  of  Convocation,  and  a  censure  passed  upon  it.  The  suits  of  the 
Bishop  of  Salisbury  against  Dr.  Williams,  and  of  Dr.  Feudall  against 
ilr.  Wilson,  bad  not  ajjed.  The  decision  of  the  Court  of  Arches, 
though  in  some  points  unfavourable  to  the  defendants,  was  regarded 
as  little  less  than  a  victory  for  them  by  the  laity  at  large ;  and  when 
the  judgment  of  the  Lower  Court  was  reversed  on  those  points  by  the 
Court  of  Pinal  Appeal,  a  certain  amount  of  panic  as  to  tlie  preser^'a- 
tion  of  the  CImrch's  doctrine  not  unnaturally  prevailed  among  the 
clergy.  Here,  then,  was  an  occasion,  such  as  even  cool  and  clear- 
headed men  might  judge  it  expedient  to  make  use  of,  for  some  calm 
and  lucid  exposition  of  the  orthodox  doctrine,  which  had  been  endan- 
gered by  the  loose  and  rash  handling^of  controversialists  on  both  sides. 
Such  an  exposition  came  forth  from  the  pen  of  the  most  learned 
prelate  on  tlie  bench.  The  charge  of  the  Bishop  of  St.  David's,  deli- 
vered at  his  eighth  Visitation  in  1863,  is  unsurpassed  by  any  one 
theological  treatise  in  existence  for  its  depth  and  subtlety  of  discrimi- 
nation, as  well  as  for  the  candour  and  impartiality  with  which  it 
surveys  the  whole  range  of  the  prevailing  controversies.  But  it  was 
not  enough  for  the  zealots  of  the  day  that  eiTor  should  be  refuted  on 
grounds  of  reason.  Nothing  would  content  them  but  a  c:)ndemiiation 
hi/  authm'ity.    The  synod  of  the  Church  must  be  put  in  action,  to 


264  The  Contemporary  Review. 

show  that  the  Church  had  110  complicity  with  the  alleged  heretics ! 
Tlie  people  must  be  "  warned  "  that  a  voluiae  of  which  many  thousand 
copies  had  been  sold,  was  in  the  ()i)inion  of  the  Convocation  of  the 
Province  of  Canterbury  "  daugeroiis,"  and  "  containing  erroneous  doc- 
trine!" Accordingly,  on  the  1 9th  of  April,  1864,  the  Bishop  of  Oxford 
resiiscitatetl  the  subject  by  presenting  a  petition  from  the  diocese  of 
Norwich,  praying  for  tlic  revival  of  the  suspended  proceedings,  and 
the  next  day  tlie  discussion  recommenced,  and  continued  through  the 
whole  day.  It  was  resumed  on  the  21st,  the  Bishops  of  London,  St. 
David's,  Ely,  Lichfield,  and  Lincoln  opposing  further  proceedings,  and 
those  of  Salisbury,  Bangor,  Gloucester,  Llandaft",  and  Oxford  urging 
them.  Tlie  numbers  were  equally  divided,  wlien  the  Arclibishop  gave 
his  casting  vote  in  favour  of  going  on.  But  while  the  debate  was  pro- 
ceeding, a  circumstance  otcun-ed  which  put  the  inexpediency  of  the 
course  resolved  on  in  the  strongest  light.  Dr.  Williams,  whose  victor)' 
over  the  Bishop  of  Salisbury  had  beeu  ascribed  to  the  necessitj'  of 
treating  theological  subjects  from  a  legal  point  of  view,  petitioned  the 
Lower  House  of  Convocation  to  be  allowed,  in  the  event  of  synodical 
judgment  being  attemjjted,  to  appear  and  reply  to  the  objections 
against  any  writings  for  which  he  himself  was  responsible,  offering  to 
meet  his  opponents,  not  only  on  the  technical  issues  of  a  law  court, 
but  as  scholars  and  tlieologians.  Here  was  a  challenge  which  could 
not  be  accepted  consistently  with  the  practice  of  Convocation,  nor 
refused  without  the  most  manifest  injustice ;  for  Dr.  Williams  had 
proposed  to  carry  on  the  discussion  precisely  in  the  way  which  the 
law  courts  had  been  censured  for  their  inability  to  adopt.  But  the 
passion  for  "  synodical  action  "  closed  tlie  eyes  of  the  dominant  party 
to  the  utterly  un-English  step  of  denying  a  prisoner  the  pri\'ilege  of 
defending  himself.  It  occuiTcd  to  some  one,  tlxat  a  censure  might  be 
passed  upon  a  book,  wliich  of  coimte  coul<l  not  explain  itself,  consi- 
dered abstractedly  from  its  author ;  and  that  therefore  there  was  no 
injustice  in  refusing  to  hear  the  latter,  if  the  injury  to  him  was  limited 
to  the  odimn  arising  out  of  the  process  of  censiuing  hisj'ook.  It^was 
also  a  safer  course  from  another  point  of  view.  Mr.  Bolt  andJSir 
Hugh  Cairns  had  been  consulted,  and  gave  it  as  tlieir  opinion  that 
Convocation  was — 

"  Not  estopped  by  tlic  25th  Henij'  VIII.,  c.  19,  or  by  any  other  statute,  from 
expressing  by  nisolution,  or  otherAvisc',  tlioir  condemnation  or  disapprobation 
of  a  Ijook,  although  no  special  Jioyal  licence  is  giveu  for  the  purpose." 

Fortified  by  this  view,  the  Upper  House,  on  the  2l8t  of  June,  passed 
a  vote,  inviting  the  Lower  House  to  concur  \vith  them  in  the  foUowing 
judgment: — 

"  That  this  Synod,  liaving  appointed  committcos  of  the  Upper  and  Lower 


Convocation.  265 

HooBes  to  examine  and  report  upon  the  volume  entitled  'Essays  and 
fieviews,'  and  the  said  committees  having  severally  reported  thereon,  doth 
hereby  tynodicalhj  condemn  the  said  volume,  as  containing  teaching  con- 
trary to  the  doctrine  received  by  the  United  Church  of  Englimd  and  Ireland, 
in  common  with  the  whole  CathoUc  Church  of  Christ" 

It  can  scfffcely  be  doubted  that  the  important  part  of  this  resolution, 
in  the  eyes  of  those  who  had  laboured  with  extraordinary  perseverance 
for  several  years  to  bring  it  about,  resided  in  the  words  which  we 
have  italicized.  The  power  authoritatively  to  declare  the  doctrine  of 
the  Church  on  doubtful  points  was  repeatedly  asserted  by  them  to 
reside  in  Convocation,  nay,  to  be  its  primary  function.  But  to  exert 
this  power  explicitly  without  Royal  licence  would  obviously,  in  effect, 
be  making  a  new  canon,  and  would  expose  all  concerned  to  the  severest 
penalties  of  the  laAv.  This  peril  was  averted  by  the  general  fonn  of 
the  judgment,  which  avoided  specifying  what  the  doctrines  werfe 
which  it  authoritatively  condemned.  It  is  true  that  when  Bishop 
Burnett's  book  on  the  Articles  was  proposed  as  a  subject  for  a  similar 
(insure  by  the  Lower  House  in  1700,  the  Upper  House  rejected  the 
application,  among  other  reasons,  on  the  ground — 

"  That  the  Lower  House  of  Convocation's  censuring  the  hook  of  the  Bishop 
of  Sanun  in  general  terms,  without  mentioning  the  particular  passages  on 
which  the  censure  is  grounded,  is  defamatory  and  scandalous." 

And  in  the  course  of  the  late  debates,  it  was  urged  by  Archdeacon 
Hale — probably  the  highest  living  authority  on  the  subject — 

"That  the  Church  of  England,  ia  the  days  of  her  full  power  of  declaring 
what  her  opinions  were,  did  not  condumn  books,  but  condemned 2JT"P'>nitioiui" 

But  both  the  risk  of  prmmunirc  and  that  of  an  action  for  libel  were 
precluded  by  the  circumstance  that  the  obnoxious  volume  was  the 
aggregate  work  of  seven  writers,  who  disclaimed  all  connection  with 
one  another;  and  although  the  reports  to  the  Upper  and  Lower 
Houses  had  contained  lai^e  extracts  to  which  exception  bad  been 
t^en  by  the  respective  committees,  these  reports  were  not  regarded 
as  in  themselves  possessing  any  synodical  authority.  Wlien  the  "  Judg- 
ment "  was  sent  down  to  the  Lower  House,  it  was  obviously  exjwcted 
that  a  concurrence  in  it  would  follow  as  a  matter  of  course.  A  debate 
was  going  on  at  the  time  upon  a  question  of  considerable  practical 
importance, — the  possibility  of  making  some  modifications  in  the 
language  of  the  Burial  Service,  with  a  view  of  avoiding  the  scandal 
■wliich  sometimes  arises  from  the  hopeful  words  of  that  solemn  ritual 
being  applied  to  persons  of  a  flagrantly  wicked  life.  The  House  was 
required  to  break  off  and  to  enter  immefHatcli/  uiton  tlie  "matter  of 
the  sjTiodical  judgment."  It  was  urged  that  the  matter  on  which  the 
House  was  engaged  had  been  sent  down  from  the  Upper  House,  ami 
that  it  was  only  reasonable  that  the  first  subject  submitted  to  it  should 

VOL.  I.  T 


266  The  Contemporary  Review. 

be  disposed  of  before  the  entrance  upon  a  neiv  one  was  peremptorily 
demanded.  Tlie  Prolocutor  replied  that  tliere  w"as  no  alternative  but 
to  procet;d  at  once  with  the  business  which  had  just  come  down,  and 
Archdeacon  PenLson  got  up  witli  tlie  appropriate  resolution, — 

"Tliat  this  Houso  i'cs]njctfii]ly  and  heartily  tenders  its  thanks  to  His 
Gnicc  the  President  and  the  Iiishoj)S  of  the  Upper  House  for  their  care  in 
the  defence  of  the  faith,  aa  manifested  in  tlie  report  upon  the  hook  entitled 
*  Essays  and  Reviews,'  now  read  to  this  House ;  and  that  this  House  does 
tliaidifully  accept  and  concur  in  the  condcnmntion  of  the  hook  by  the  Upper 
House,  which  has  K-en  based  upon  the  said  report." 

But  the  dissatisi'action  that  had  been  created  by  the  whole  course  of 
proceeding  pi-oduced  an  opposition  of  the  most  formidable  cliaracter, 
whicli,  althougli  ultimately  overcome,  exhibited  itself  in  a  debate 
extending  over  three  days — the  21st,  22nd,  and  24th  of  June.  The 
course  it  took  will  be  best  given  in  the  words  of  a  protest  (under  the 
form  of  a  'jrnvameti),  signed  by  five  deans,  six  archdeacons,  four 
canons,  and  five  proctors  of  the  parochial  clergy,  whicli  was  subse- 
quently presented.  After  reciting  the  "judgment,"  this  document 
sets  forth, — 

"  'J'hat  tlie  undcrsigiiod  feel  grave  doubts  as  to  the  legal  powers  of  Convo- 
cation to  censure  any  book  whatever,  witliout  licence  i)reviou8ly  obtained 
from  the  Crown  for  tliat  sj)eciiil  puq^one ;  and  that  divera  of  them  were  on 
tliat  account  desirous,  l>efore  entering  on  the  consideration  of  the  'judg- 
ment,' concurrence  in  which  was  inviteil,  to  await  a  report  of  the  Committ«ie 
of  Privileges  of  the  Lower  House ;  which  committee  had  already  (viz.,  on 
tlic  13tli  of  Fel)niary,  18G3)  been  instructeil  to  examine  the  precedents  for 
the  cen.sure  of  books  by  Convocation,  and  to  rf'itort  tliereon  ;  and  that  divers 
of  the  niidersigiK'd  did,  on  the  21,st  of  June,  I8f)4,  move  the  I^ower  House 
to  await  such  n^iort,  but  that  the  majority  of  the  Lower  House  refused  to 
agi-ee  to  the  proposal. 

"'Iliat  one  of  the  reports  referred  to,  although  not  embodied  in  the 
■*judgiiR'nt '  sent  down  to  the  Lower  House,  was  laid  iK^fore  the  Lower 
House  at  the  same  time  with  the  'judgment'  itself,  and  not  before;  and 
that  this  report  extended  to  such  a  length,  and  embraced  so  many  and  such 
important  topics,  as  to  demand  much  time  for  its  due  consideration  :  and 
that  divera  of  the  undersigned  did  therefore  move  the  Lower  House  to 
rotjuost  His  Grace  the  President  '  to  allow  them  full  time  to  consider  the 
very  important  subject  anhinitted  to  them;'  but  that  tiie  majority  of  the 
Lower  House  refuf^i.'d  to  accede  to  this  pro]>osal. 

"  That  one  of  the  writers  in  the  volume  on  which  synodical  judgment  was 
invited  on  the  said  21st  of  June  had  i>reviously- — viz.,  on  the  12tli  day  of 
April  i>receding — in  the  expectation  of  such  a  contingency,  respectfully 
petitioned  the  Lmver  House  tliat  belbi-e  judgment  ahould  i)aes  on  any  book 
or  pMii)Osition  for  "which  he  waa  rcsi)onsil)lc,  he  might  be  allowed  a  hearing 
in  answer  to  the  oTijections  urged  against  the  same ;  and  that  divera  of  the 
undersigned,  in  accordance  (as  they  believe)  with  precedents,  as  well  as  with 
the  acknowledged  maxims  of  justice,  ^vere  desirous  that  the  petitioner's 
recinest  should  lie  complied  with  if  possible ;  and  did  move  the  Lower  House 
respectfully  to  request  His  Grace  the  President  to  advise  them  what  course 
they  ought,  under  the  circumstances,  to  pursue ;  but  that  the  majority  of 


Convocation,  267 

ihe  Lower  House  norertheless  refused  to  agree  to  such  application  to  His 
Grace. 

"  That  if  in  any  case  Convocation  may  be  properly  called  upon  to  exercise 
a  jadiciol  function,  it  must  be  essential  to  the  efKcient  discharge  of  such  duty 
that  all  it£  members  should  have  timely  notice  of  the  question  intended  to 
be  brought  before  them,  so  that  they  must  be  assured  of  the  opportunity  of 
being  present;  whereas  in  the  case  to  which  this  gravamen  refers,  no  notice 
wbatever  was  given  to  the  Ix)wer  House,  but  the  consideration  of  the  judg- 
ment was  pressed  upon  them,  even  before  it  was  printed  for  their  use  ;  and 
except  for  the  delay  arising  from  some  of  the  undersigned  moving  the  House 
(as  above  recited)  to  adopt  a  more  seemly  manner  of  proceeding,  the  greater 
part  of  its  members  would  have  learnt  the  fact  of  the  judgment  having  been 
adopted  before  they  were  aware  of  the  intention  to  propose  a  concurrence  in  it. 

"  That  the  undersigned,  considering  the  proceedings  above  recited,  even  if 
not  directly  illegal  (which,  however,  they  regard  as  highly  questionable),  yet 
to  be  manifestly  opposed  to  the  orderly  course  of  Convocation,  as  well  as  to 
the  general  principles  of  English  law,  and  the  plain  dictates  of  equity,  do 
earnestly  protest  against  their  being  reganled  as  a  precedent  to  guide  the 
practice  of  Convocation  for  the  future ;  and  do  humbly  request  His  Grace 
the  President  to  take  such  action  as  may  neutralize  the  evil  they  apprehend 
in  the  present  case,  and  tend  to  bring  the  practice  of  Convocation  into 
closer  harmony  with  tliat  of  those  deliberative  and  judicial  bodies  which 
command  the  general  confidence  and  respect  of  the  English  nation." 

Immediately  after  the  concurrence  of  the  Lower  House   in  the 
eynodical  jadgmeut,  Convocation  was  prorogued,  the  President  and 
liahops  having,  in  fact,  been  waiting  for  some  hours  in  expectation  of 
4he  decision  of  the  other  House.     It  did  not  meet  again  for  business 
till  the  14th  of  February  in  the  next  year,  on  which  day  the  protesting 
^avamen  was  presented.    There  had  been  no  intention  to  move  its 
adoption  by  the  whole  House,  and  accordingly  the  natural  course 
"Would  have  been  for  the  Prolocutor  at  once  to  take  it  up  as  the  grava- 
■men  of  the  individuals  who  bad  signed  it.     But  the  circumstance  of 
four  or  five  of  the  names  having  been  signed  by  proxy  (although 
•under  formal  written  instructions)  furnished  an  argument  for  referring 
the  document  to  the  Committee  of  Gravamina.     The  same  defect 
could  not  be  imputed  to  another  gravamen  presented  at  the  same  time 
and  which  met  with  the  same  fate.     This  proceeded  from  Dr.  Elliott, 
Dean  of  Bristol,  late  Prolocutor  of  the  Lower  House,  and  set  forth 
that,  although  a  resolution  of  Convocation  did  not  become  a  "  synodi- 
cal  act "  until  the  Cro'wn  had  ratified  it  and  permitted  its  promidga- 
tion,  yet  that,  by  assuming  to  pass  a  synodical  judgment  without  the 
assent  of  the  Crown,  its  members  had  become  subject  to  the  penalties 
prescribed  by  the  Act  of  Submission.     There  being  every  reason  to 
sappose  that  the  committee  to  which  these  (p'avamina  were  referred 
would  not  report  upon  them  for  some  time,  a  copy  of  both  was  forth- 
with forwarded  to  the  President  of  the  Upper  House  by  the  Dean  of 
Westminster.     Few  persons  will  do\ibt  that  His  Grace  exercised  a 
wise  discretion  in  silently  acting  upon  the  course  suggested  in  the 


268 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


fonnerof  the  two;  and  that,  in  finally  pTorcigiimgCnnvocation-witlinut 
first  publicly  aflixiug  his  signature  to  the  "synodical  judginent,"  he 
complied  with  the  prciyer  "to  take  such  action  as  might  ueutralize 
till?  fcvil  appreheudetl  in  the  present  £.'ase,"  in  an  efPectual  although 
iinosteiitutioua  manner.*  As  regards  the  future,  nil  that  seetns  requi- 
site is  that  tlie  President  should,  nt  the  l;iej,'innLn^'  of  each  series  of 
sessions,  mark  out  the  subjects  on  which  it  may  be  His  Grace's  -wisli 
to  obtain  tlio  opinion  of  the  bishops  and  eleryj',  and  not  allow  the 
eflectuu.]  diseussion  of  them  to  be  intemipted  by  the  manceu\'Tes  uf 
jigitfltora  in  either  House. 

Tiie  questitin  of  the  deairabLLity  of  an  endeavour  to  ohtaiu  an  altera- 
tion in  the  constitution  of  the  Final  Court  of  Appeal  was  iutroduced 
hy  a  speech  of  the  Bishop  of  Oxford  in  the  ITppev  House  ou  the  17th 
of  February,  18G5.  An  elaborate  reiwrt  bad  beea  laid  before  the  Lower 
House  on  the  21  at  of  June  in  the  previous  year.  Archdeacon  Ueuisoii 
opened  the  cpiestion  in  the  Lower  House  at  the  same  time  with  the 
Bishop  in  the  Upper,  and  the  <;reat  moderation  of  his  t-one  evinced 
the  advantage  of  delay  befoie  finally  deciding  on  matters  which  have 
evoked  a  passionate  interest.  The  committee  "which  pnjduced  the 
report  was  originally  constituted  on  the  19th  of  April,  18&4,  just 
when  tliti  irritation  arising  from  the  issue  of  the  suits  against  I)r. 
Williatus  end  Mr,  \\*ilsnn  was  at  its  height,  TUu  ten  months  -whioh 
had  elapsed  ^viien  their  lalxHus  came  on  for  discussion  had  brought 
with  them  the  natmid  effects  of  rellection  on  an  extremely  compli- 
cated subject.  M^jrecjver,  the  general  ignorance  viiiich  had  prevailed 
among  the  clergy  on  the  subject  of  the  Idatory  of  the  Court  of  Appeal  had 
been  dis^iclled  by  the  publication,  under  the  able  editorship  cif  il«ssrs. 
Brndrick  and  Fremantle,  of  the  volume  containing  all  account  of  the 
cftse.s  decided  in  it.  Above  all,  the  debates  in  Convocation  ou  the 
"  synodical  judgment "  had  shown  that  there  were  in  the  Lower  House 
men  who  were  determined  not  \j!i  yield  eithor  to  the  cicitnn  anhr 
2n-eti'a  juhcntium  or  to  the  terrorism  of  a  party  which  arrogated  t<i 
itself  a  special  ^eal  for  the  orthodoxy  of  the  Church.  It  was  quite 
plain  that  the  time  for  outrageous  pretensions  on  the  part  of  the 
clergy  to  decide  doctrinal  disputes  was  at  an  end ;  and  tlie  sole 
elfoit  of  Archdeacon  Dcnison  was  tu  induce  the  Hfiusc  to  adopt 
a  scheme  excluding  all  ecclesiastics  from  tbe  Judicial  Committee  in 
appeals  affecting  doetrine,  and  providing,  as  a  aulwtitute  for  their 
presence,  a  Knanl  of  Eeference,  to  eon^i^t  exclusively  of  spiritual  per- 
sons, wlio  ahcjidd  be  con.'^idted  by  tbe  Judicial  Committee  as  theo- 
logians, and  thus  indirectly  guide  the  lay  judges  to  their  decision. 
Put  even  this  plan — moilerate  aa  it  might  be  regarded  in  com|Mirisou 
with  the  claims  put  forward  some  time  before  by  the  ultra  psirty — was 
•  Sec  fflots  on  page  258,  antt. 


Convocation.  269 

not  adopted  Convocation  was  prorogued  from  the  17tli  of  February  to 
the  16th  of  May,  when  the  adjourned  debate  was  resumed,  and  continued 
with  great  spirit  for  a  couple  of  days.  By  able  tactics,  a  great  tem- 
porary advantage  was  gained.  Archdeacon  Denison  was  allowed  to 
separate  the  resolution  which  he  wished  to  carry  into  two  parts,  the 
first  being  only  the  vague  affirmation — 

"  lliat,  in  the  opinion  of  this  House,  the  constitution  of  the  present  Court 
of  Appeal  in  ecclesiastical  causes  is  open  to  grave  objections,  and  that  its 
trorlang  is  unsatis&ctory." 

It  was  justly  observed  that  those  who  entertained  the  most  trivial 
objections  to  the  Court,  and  those  who  wished  wholly  to  revolutionize 
it,  woidd  unite  in  this  resolution,  and,  by  carrying  it,  altogether  mis- 
lead the  public  as  to  the  opinion  of  Convocation.  The  objectors,  who 
on  these  grounds  moved  "the  previous  question,"  were  indeed  out- 
voted, but  Archdeacon  Denison's  second  resolution,  recommending  the 
Board  of  Reference,  was  lost  by  22  votes  to  21.  Several  amendmenta 
had  been  previously  proposed  and  rejected  —  one  by  Mr.  Fendall, 
which  contained  the  strongest  assertion  of  ecclesiastical  claims,  by 
no  leas  than  33  votes  to  5. 

We  repeat  our  opinion  that  the  last  two  years  have  done  much  to 
strengthen  the  position  of  Convocation  in  the  countiy;  and  if  the 
attendance  of  the  ultra>ecclesiastical  party  in  the  Lower  House  were 
imitated  by  the  many  temperate  and  judicious  members  who  have 
MUierto  held  aloof,  we  believe  that  a  great  deal  of  light  might  bo 
tiirowu  upon  the  special  difficulties  which  sxuroxmd  the  task  of  bring- 
ing op  the  agencies  of  the  Church  to  a  level  with  the  requirements  of 
Ijie  population.  When  all  religious  parties  are  fairly  represented  and 
show  themselves  in  tjieir  real  force  within  the  walls  of  die  Jerusalem 
Chamber,  there  may  cease  to  be  that  jealousy  of  ecclesiastical  domina- 
tion which  has  hitherto  been  excited  among  the  laity  by  propositions 
emanating  from  that  quarter.  The  constitution  of  the  Lower  House 
may  possibly,  under  such  circumstances,  be  remodelled,  and  adapted 
to  the  present  exigencies  of  the  clergy,  not  only  with  the  general 
acquiescence  of.  every  order  in  the  Church,  but  with  the  sanction  of 
the  Crown  itself.  There  will  then  be  no  more  attempts  to  try  heretics 
OT  censure  bad  books,  but  numberless  practical  questions  bearing  upon 
the  spiritual  amelioration  of  the  people  wiU  receive  the  attention  of 
practical  men,  well  acquainted,  through  their  own  experience,  with  the 
evils  to  be  remedied  and  with  the  necessary  conditions  for  successfully 
grappling  with  them.  But  the  essential  preliminary  to  such  a  con- 
summation is,  that  the  duty  of  attendance  on  Convocation  should  be 
recognised  by  those  who  are  now  elected  to  it,  and  that  the  preserva- 
tion of  order  and  regularity  and  of  perfect  fairness  and  candour  in  the 
conduct  of  business  should  be  the  first  thought  of  every  one. 


BECKET  LITERATURE. 


SptcUeniim  HbtrUtnum,    Dismit  cl  iccnunit  Fkuicuoub  lavMMiMK. 

Folio.    Floreaiia^  ISilS. 
Btttriptice   falalegiu  qf  Malarialt   rOattiig   to   Uie   BUtam  tf  tlrt^ 

firUdfn   and   Ireland.      By   Thomas    Dumis  E*U>t.    VoL  XL 

London,  18?!>. 

WE  do  not  intend  to  review  either  of  tliese  books  as  a  whole,  but 
only  to  notice  those  parts  of  them  which  relate  to  a  common 
subject, — ^the  history  of  Archbishop  Thomas  Becket. 

ilonsignore  Liverani  may  probably  be  known  to  many  of  our  readers 
as  the  author  of  some  pamphlets  against  the  temporal  sovereignty  of 
the  Pojje,  and  as  an  exile  from  the  lioman  States  ou  account  of  the 
opinions  set  forth  in  those  pamphlets,  although  his  orthodoxy  as  to 
religious  doctrines  is  of  the  very  latest  Roman  fashion.  Before  his 
flight  from  Rome,  he  had  published  five  volumes  of  "  Opere,"  including 
a  Life  of  I'ope  John  X.,  wliom  he  labours  to  clear  from  Luitprand'* 
charges  of  disreputable  connection  with  the  notorious  Theodora  and 
ilarozia;  and  he  had  collected  the  materials  of  the  "  Spicilegium"  now 
before  us,  which  takes  its  name  from  the  "  Liberian  BasiUca," — ^the 
patriarchal  church  of  St.  Mary  Major,  of  wliicli  he  was  (and  still 
maintains  himself  to  be)  a  canon.  It  appears  from  his  preface  that 
the  announcement  of  this  book  as  about  to  appear  at  ilorence  has 
drawn  on  him  much  violent  abuse  from  the  Civiltd,  Caftolica  and 
other  papal  organs;  which  might,  perhaps,  ha^'e  spared  their  fury  if 
the  writers  liad  been  aware  that  the  *'  Spicilegium,"  instead  of  betray- 
ing any  scandalous  or  damaging  secrets  of  St,  Mary's  or  the  Vatican, 
was  to  be  merely  a  collection  of  innocuous  writings,  the  very  latest  of 
which  are  six  hundred  years  old. 


Becket  Literature.  271 

The  editor  of  audi  a  collection  is  rather  to  be  regarded  as  putting 
forth  his  gleanings  to  find  their  own  value  witli  readers,  than  as 
irarraating  tliem,  to  be  very  precious.  If,  therefore,  we  are  compelled 
to  think  that  the  world  will  not  gain  very  much  by  this  addition  to 
the  already  long  series  of  "  Spicilegia,"  "  Thesauri,"  and  the  like,  we 
yet  feel  ourselves  greatly  indebted  to  Mgr.  Ii\'erani  for  having  enabled 
us  to  judge  of  his  materials  by  casting  our  eyes  over  a  handsomely 
printed  foUo,  which  comes  home  to  our  own  firesides.  Tlie  volume  is 
divided  into  three  parts, — the  first  containing  pieces  of  date  earlier 
tlian  A.D.  1000;  the  second  entirely  taken  up  with  a  different  version 
from  that  hitherto  published  of  certain  homilies  of  Haymo,  bishop  of 
Halberstadt,  who  flourished  in  the  middle  of  the  ninth  century ;  wliile 
the  third  consists  of  pieces  dating  between  the  years  1000  and  1300. 
It  is  with  this  last  part  only,  or  rather  with  so  much  of  it  as  belongs 
to  the  time  of  Becket,  that  we  now  intend  to  concern  ourselves. 

We  had  looked  with  some  eagerness  for  the  appearance  of  the 
"  Spicilegium,"  in  consequence  of  announcements  in  the  Dublin  Re- 
view, and  in  the  editor's  own  pamplJets,  that  he  liad  discovered,  and 
waa  about  to  publish,  more  than  a  hundred  letters  relating  to  the 
iiistory  of  St.  Thomas  of  Canterbury;  but  our  expectations  have 
been  considerably  disappointed.  There  is  not  amon^  the  new  letters 
one  by  Becket  himself ;  and  those  of  his  contemporaries,  wliile  they 
fit  in  perfectly  with  the  letters  already  published  by  Lupus  and  Dr. 
Giles,  contain  very  little  that  is  really  new. 

The  arrangement  of  this  part  of  the  volume  is  unsatisfactory  and 
perplexing,  inasmuch  as  it  follows  no  more  rational  principle  tlian 
that  of  placing  the  ^Titers  according  to  the  alphabetical  order  of  their 
names.  Tlius,  from  Gregory  IX.,  wlio  became  Pope  in  1227,  we  go 
back  about  sixty  years  to  "  Gulielmus  Papiensis" — Cardinal  William 
of  Pavia,  a  contemporary  of  Becket ;  and  then  a  quarter  of  a  century 
ferther  back  to  William  of  Malmesbury,  who  is  supposed  to  have 
died  in  1143.  We  are  next  'required  to  go  forward  again  to  three 
more  of  Becket's  contemporaries,  and  after  tliese  follows  a  long  leaj* 
backwards  to  Hildebert  of  Tours,  who  died  in  1134.  One  odd  result 
of  this  arrangement  is  that  the  canonization  of  Edward  the  Con- 
fessor, to  which  many  of  the  epistles  relate,  comes  in  from  time  to 
time  between  all  sorts  of  other  matters,  according  as  the  names  of 
those  who  wrote  about  it  began  with  one  letter  or  another.  More- 
over, in  arranging  the  epistles  of  the  same  person,  no  discoverable  rule 
has  been  observed.  We  find,  for  instance,  after  having  read  a 
letter  which  belongs  to  the  time  after  Becket's  death,  that  the  next 
letter  of  the  same  writer  throws  us  back  into  the  midst  of  the  quarrels 
which  the  Archbishop  carrie<l  on  in  life. 

We  must  also  remark  that  Mgr.  Liverani  is  not  so  convers.\nt  as 


272  The  Contemporary  Review. 

oould  be  wished  with  the  history  of  Becket.  Of  the  books  which  bear 
on  it  he  seeins  to  know  only  Dr.  Giles's  "  Sanctus  Thomas,"  and  to 
know  it  only  through  the  reprint  in  Migne's  "  Patrologia."  Nor  has  he 
made  the  best  use  even  of  his  one  book.  At  p.  543,  for  instance.  Pope 
Alexander  III.  expresses  to  Becket  an  apprehension  that  the  English 
king  might  ally  himself,  "  prout  oUra  fecit,  illi  tyranno  et  fl^tioso 
iiiimico  ecclesia,"  and  the  editor  supposes  that  the  words  point  at  the 
antipope  Victor ;  whereas  a  better  acquaintance  with  the  story  would 
have  shown  him  (1)  that  Henry  had  never  been  a  supporter  of 
Victor ;  (2)  that  Victor  was  dead  at  the  date  of  the  letter ;  (3)  that 
the  description  clearly  relates  to  the  Emperor  Frederick  Barbarossa, 
and  not  to  any  anti^TOpe. 

Again,  at  p.  548,  where  Alexander  mentions  that  the  magistrates  of 
tlie  Lombard  cities  had  interceded  with  him  in  behalf  of  Henry,  the 
editor  has  nothing  to  say  except  that  it  is  a  matter  "meduUitus 
investiganda;"  whereas  he  might  have  found  notices  in  John  of  Salis- 
bur}',  Ep.  288,  and  in  Becket,  Ep.  47,  of  tlie  means  by  which  the 
King  got  the  republicans  of  Lombardy  into  his  interest. 

Again,  at  p.  610  is  a  letter  from  Meister  David,  of  which  the  editor 
tells  us  that  he  was  unable  to  fix  tlie  date,  because  he  had  not  the 
necessary  books  at  liand.  But  to  any  one  moderately  acquainted 
with  the  story,  it  must  be  clear,  even  without  the  aid  of  books,  that 
the  letter  was  wTitten  in  Lent,  1171,  when  the  writer  and  others 
had  been  sent  to  propitiate  the  Pope  after  Becket's  murder;  and 
Mgr.  liverani  might  at  least  have  seen  that  it  was  not  addressed  (as 
he  siipposes)  to  Odo,  prior  of  Canterbury,  but  to  one  of  the  bishops 
whom  Becket  liad  suspended  —  most  probably  Gilbert  Foliot  of 
I»ndou. 

Of  Foliot  himself  there  are  eight  letters.  One  of  them  (vi.),  inform- 
ing Becket  that  he  had  appealed  to  the  Pope  by  way  of  warding  oft' 
any  sentence  tliat  the  Archbishop  might  pronounce,  is  remarkable  as 
imiting  an  extreme  profession  of  deference  with  an  intimation  of  the 
most  determined  opposition ;  and  there  is  a  letter  in  the  same  spirit, 
which  bears  the  name  of  Joscelin,  bishop  of  Salisbury,  but  may  pro- 
bably be  referred  to  Foliot's  suggestion. 

Another  prominent  ecclesiastic  of  the  time,  Arnidf,  bishop  of 
Lisieux,  appears  largely,  and  in  a  very  characteristic  style.  There  is 
no  mistaking  the  old  intriguer,  who  feels  that  lie  has  outlived  his 
influence,  yet  tries  to  keep  up  the  idea  tliat  he  still  posses-ses  it  by 
affecting  to  mediate  for  all  applicants  with  King  Henry  and  otlier 
great  personages.  In  one  of  the  letters,  however,  telling  Master  David 
liow  to  put  himself  in  tlie  way  of  preferment,  Arnulf  confesses  or 
complains  that  the  King,  although  still  glad  to  make  use  of  him  as 
a  tool,  lias   of  late  ceased  to  attend  to  his  suits  (x.).     Another  of 


Becket  Literature.  273 

AmulTs  letters, — ^probably  of  earlier  date,  (i) — \a  intended  to  antici- 
pate the  representations  which  a  certain  abbot, "  a  dissolute  and  men- 
dacious man,"  bad  set  off  to  make  gainst  him  at  the  Papal  Court ; 
and  it  gives  a  very  curious  picture  of  monastic  discipline  For 
instance,  we  are  told  that  when  the  abbot's  monks,  on  a  festival  day, 
found  the  convent  wine  weaker  than  that  which  they  had  been 
accustomed  to  enjoy  at  a  tavern,  they  took  away  the  ropes  from 
the  bells,  shut  the  chapel  doors,  and  put  a  stop  to  Divine  offices  for 
some  days,  until  the  landlord  of  the  tavern,  in  pity  for  the  sufferings 
of  his  neighbours  and  customers,  presented  them  with  some  drink 
more  to  their  liking. 

There  are  several  letters  which  have  a  peculiar  value  as  having  been 
written  between  Becket's  return  to  England  and  bis  murder,  and  as 
showing  the  dismay  which,  until  all  other  feeling  was  overpowered  by 
horror  at  the  manner  of  his  end,  was  excited  by  hia  displays  of 
violence  where  wisdom  would  have  dictated  a  policy  of  concilia- 
tion- Two  of  these  letters  are  from  Amulf  (xi.,  xx.) ;  another,  which 
is  entitled  to  greater  weight  on  accoimt  of  the  writer's  character  and 
impariiial  position,  is  from  Itotrou,  archbishop  of  Eouen  (p.  758).  In 
this  last  letter,  as  given  by  Mgr.  Liverani,  there  is  a  misreading  or 
ndsprint  which  entirely  reverses  the  writer's  meaning.  In  speaking  of 
the  coronation  of  Henry's  son,  the  Archbishop  is  made  to  say,  "  neque 
de  novis  constitutionibus  mutatio  aUqua  facta  est,"  which  would 
mean  that  an  oath  to  observe  the  Constitutions  of  Clarendon  in 
their  entirenesa  was  exacted  of  the  prince,  as  Becket's  partisans  indus- 
triously reported.  But  it  is  clear  from  the  context,  and  from  other 
letters  of  the  same  time,*  that  for  niutalio  we  ought  to  read  mentio ; 
that  Rotrou  really  intended  to  contradic't  the  rumours  wMch  he  is  here 
made  to  confirm. 

Of  all  Becket's  contemporaries,  the  one  who  figures  most  largely 
is  Master  David,  to  whom  one  of  Foliot's  letters  in  Dr.  Giles's 
collection  is  addressed  (vi.  18),  and  whose  name,  we  believe,  occurs 
elsewhere  in  that  collection,  although  it  would  be  useless  to  seek  for 
it  in  such  a  pathless  jungle.  David  was  not,  as  we  might  rashly 
suppose,  a  Welshman,  but  a  native  of  London.  He  was  a  canon  of 
St.  Paul's,  and  was  employed  in  missions  to  the  Papal  Court  both  by 
Bishop  Foliot  and  by  the  King.  While  there,  he  seems  to  have 
endeavoured  to  make  interest  for  himself  as  well  as  for  his  em- 
ployers; and  we  have  a  host  of  testimonials,  addressed  to  Henry 
and  to  the  Bishop,  all  eulogizing  his  ability  and  his  integrity  as  a 
negotiator,  and,  more  or  less  directly,  recommending  him  for  preferment. 
One  of  these  letters,  from  no  less  a  person  than  Alexander  III.,  is 
curious,  as  iUiLstrating  the  manner  in  which  the  Popes  about  that  time 
*  GHes,  Ti.  211 ;  iVrnulf,  ap.  LiTerani,  pp.  584,  590. 


2  74  ^'^^  Contemporary  Review. 

began  to  invade  the  patronage  of  bishops  and  chapters.  Tlie  Pope  de- 
clares David  to  be  desei-ving  not  only  of  a  canonrj-,  but  of  a  bishopric, 
and  in  a  very  peremptory  style  he  desires  tlie  dean  and  chapter  of 
Lincoln,  during  a  vacancy  of  the  see,  to  bestow  on  him  the  first  prebend 
that  should  fall  vacant  in  their  church  (p.  546).  It  does  not  appear 
how  the  dean  and  chapter  took  thisj  but  when  David  attempted  to 
get  possession  of  something  which  was  in  the  Bishop  of  London's 
gift  by  means  of  a  papal  recommendation,  Foliot  cried  out  very  loudly 
of  his  base  ingratitude  for  all  tlie  favours  that  had  been  heaped  on 
him  by  liis  old  patron  (p.  G40).  Master  Da\ad,  however,  knew  how 
to  make  friends  with  opposite  parties;  and  we  have  a  letter  from 
Eoger,  bishop  of  Worcester,  who  had  always  been  a  strenuous  adherent 
of  Becket,  telling  the  Pope  that  Foliot  and  the  Archdeacon  of  Middle 
sex  had  contrived  between  them  to  jockey  poor  David  out  of  a  pension 
of  ten  pounds  which  had  been  chaiged  on  the  archdeaconry  (p.  757). 
The  editor  feels  that  David's  o^vn  epistles,  and  such  glimpses  of  his 
proceedings  in  search  of  preferment  as  we  catch,  do  not  very  well 
bear  out  the  lofty  panegyrics  pronounced  on  him  by  the  Pope  and 
other  illustrious  personages : — 

"Hujusviri  i&wxsi  melius  profecto  consoluissot  oblivio;  quoniam  acripta 
ejus,  quie  nunc  priinum  evulgantur,  fidem  elevant  laudibus  et  prseconiis  a 
8U]iparibu9  et  amicis  et  Jlecrenatibus  iUi  collatia.  En  enim  procacem  et 
garruhtm  virum,  magis  quam  eruditum  et  disertum  exhibent;  dexteritfttem 
et  petulantiam  assentatoria  et  legulaei  vulgarissimi  potius  quam  eximiam 
aliquam  virtutis  et  scientias  excellentiam  commend^t.  SennoniB  fccili- 
tatem  atqiie  volubilitatem,  magis  quam  elegantiam,  concinnitatem,  venosta- 
tem  et  leporeia  aliquem,  lu  eo  ofFendimus." — (P.  603.) 

But  the  picture  of  such  a  preferment-hunter  in  the  twelfth  century 
is  very  curious,  and  is  perhaps  as  valuable  as  anytliiug  in  the  volume. 

One  more  letter  (p.  551)  we  may  particularly  notice. 
Liverani  supposes  it  to  have  been  WTitten  by  some  unknown  bishop, 
although  we  do  not  see  wliy  it  should  be  ascribed  to  a  bishop  rather  tlian 
to  an  ecclesiastic  of  lower  degree.  The  object  of  it  is  to  exasperate 
the  Pope  against  Foliot,  who,  after  the  murder  of  Becket,  was  on  his 
way  to  the  cuHa  for  the  puqiose  of  soliciting  absolution  from  the 
sentence  pronounced  against  him  by  the  late  primate.  The  writer 
argues,  with  a  great  appearance  of  enmity,  that  Foliot,  although  he 
had  not  assaulted  the  Archbishop  witli  his  own  hand,  was  yet,  by  his 
long  and  bitter  opposition  to  him,  in  reality  the  chief  cause  of  his 
death. 

We  now  pass  to  the  second  volume  on  our  list ;  and  in  so  doing  it 
is  needless  to  express  either  our  respect  for  Mr.  Hardy's  high  and  long- 
established  reputation  as  an  antiquary,  or  our  sense  of  the  very  great 
value  of  his  elaborate  "  Catalogue."     In  this  Becket  occupies  eighty 


Becket  Literature.  275 

pages,  and  Jlr.  Hardy  enumerates  no  less  tlian  112  articles  relating  to 
him,  to  which  Sfgr.  Liverani's  contributions  may  be  added,  as  still 
further  increasing  the  number.  Yet  tliis  long  and  carefully  com- 
piled list  of  manuscript  materials  adds  hardly  anythiug  of  importance 
to  the  documents  wliich  are  already  in  print.  Many  of  the  articles 
are  sermons,  lessons  to  be  read  in  church,  hymns,  and  the  like,  for  the 
most  part  written  long  after  Becket's  time,  and  of  no  historical  value ; 
some  are  mere  repetitions,  abridgments,  or  abstracts  of  others — for 
instance,  the  Passion,  by  "  Master  Everard "  (No.  428),  whose  name 
is  a  variation  for  that  of  Edward  Grim ;  others  are  composite  Uves, 
made  up  of  extracts  from  various  biographers,  and  therefore  having 
no  independent  value,  except  in  cases  where  the  originals  are  lost. 
The  only  pieces  which,  on  looking  through  the  catalogue,  struck  us  as 
at  once  unknown  to  us  and  likely  to  be  of  any  interest,  were  two 
which  are  contained  in  the  Lansdowne  MS.  398,  and  these  we  have 
lately  examined.  The  first  of  them  (No.  436),  as  Mr.  Hardy  points 
out,  is  not  noticed  in  the  Lansdowne  Catalogue,  being  undistinguish- 
able  in  appearance  from  the  MS.  of  the  Life  by  Titzstephen  with 
which  the  volume  begins.  But  with  folio  42  the  text  of  Fitzstepben 
is  broken  off  (far  short  of  the  end,  as  may  be  seen  by  a  comparison 
with  the  published  copies),  and  it  is  followed  by  another  fragment, 
which,^  Mr.  Hardy  says,  "  appears  to  be  a  commemorative  homily." 
Mr.  Hwdy,  however,  has  not  observed  that  this  in  its  turn  breaks  off 
with  folio  53,  and  that  the  next  two  leaves,  which  relate  chiefly  to 
Becket's  consecration,  are  part  of  another  piece.  There  are  some 
things  worth  preserving  in  both  these  fragments,  the  first  of  which 
is  evidently  contemporary,  from  the  manner  in  which  the  schism  in 
the  Papacy  is  spoken  of;  but  if  they  should  be  printed,  it  will  be 
well  to  leave  out  so  much  of  them  as  is  merely  declamatory  twaddle.* 
The  other  piece  in  t!ie  same  volume  (No.  435  in  the  list)  is  also  of  the 
homiletical  kind,  and  the  earlier  part  of  it  is  marked  off  into  twelve 
lessons,  for  use  in  the  service  of  the  Church.  Dr.  Giles,  in  order 
to  fill  some  blank  pages,  has  printed  the  beginning  of  this,  with  a 
polite  intimation  to  the  reader  that,  if  he  wish  to  know  more,  he  may 
go  to  the  MS.  for  himseltf  But  Dr.  Giles  does  not  seem  to  have  been 
aware  that  the  real  value  of  the  work  is  in  tlie  later  part,  which 
relates  to  the  transactions  after  the  murder;  and  this  part  it  might 

•  At  folio  52  there  are  some  words  whicb,  if  thc^  Imd  been  known  to  Augustine  Thierry, 
*ould  have  been  eagerly  seized  on  as  confirming  hia  theory  that  Becket  was  the  champion 
and  Duutyr  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race, — "  Cognationem  suom  ngnatm  Anglorum  poatliabuit, 
nisi  quein  mcritonim  qualitos  commendaret,"  &C.  But  the  reading  ought  almost  certainly 
lo  be  cognati*  aiiorum. 

t  "  Typographo  me  monente  decsse  materiom  quce  plagulam  banc  siippleat,  adjicio  hie 
prologom  et  initium  Vibe.  .  .  .  Cntem  siquis  legere  velit,  in  ipso  codice  requint." — 
OiUt,  iL  316,  326. 


276 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


lie  well  to  print,  altlioitgli  the  rest  might  be  left  ia  MS.  without  any 
loss  to  mankind. 

Ill  noticing  the  French  metrical  Life  by  Gamier  of  Pont  Sta. 
3iaxence,  Mr.  Iliirdy  says  dip.  338-y)  that  his  book,  "  for  the  greater 
l>art,  almost  appears  to  be  Kdward  Griui  lyraifieLt."  We  shuiUd  not 
object  to  this  statement,  if  tlicre  'vrere  not  a  still  closer  agreement 
between  Garni&r  and  the  writer  "whoin  Dr.  Giles  calls  Iloger  of 
I'ontigny.  But  ive  think  that  Mr.  llanly  himself  can  hardly  fail  to 
see  that,  while  there  is  raucJi  likeness  between  Griui  and  Roger,  and 
wLiilc  GHnaier  has  much  in  coramou  with  both,  he  resembleia  Iloger  far 
more  than  Orim ;  and  that  where  the  two  prose  biogniphera  difier  (as  in 
the  atoTj'  of  Racket's  escape  from  dro^^-niug),  Gai-nier  holds  to  Roger. 

The  whole  subject  of  the  connection  l>etween  the  various  Lives,  and 
of  the  sources  from  wliich  each  biographer  may  be  presume^-l  to  haTC 
dmwn  his  materials,  deaei'ves  tliorough  investigation ;  but  as  yet 
hardly  anj-tluug  has  been  done  in  this  way.  It  is,  however,  a  matter 
wliich  requires  more  of  detail  than  is  consistent  with  tlie  nature  of  a 
catalogue,  so  that  we  must  not  be  understood  aa  blaming  Mr.  Hardy 
for  havuig  attempted  but  little  towards  the  solution  of  such  queations. 

Mr.  Hiirdy  lias  anticipated  na  in  much  that  we  might  have  said  as 
tij  the  composite  Life  ascribed  by  Dr.  Giles  to  "  Phdip  uf  Litge."  He 
has  seen  tliiit  the  compiler  indicates  that  his  uanae  was  really ^bomas 
of  Beverley,  and  lias  riglitly  iilentiiied  liim  with  (jne  Tliomas  who  was 
a  nativQ  of  that  place,  and  afterwards  became  a  monk  of  Froidmont, 
in  the  diocese  of  Beanvais.*  And  we  cannot  but  admire  the  diffidence 
with  which,  after  ha^Tng  ascertained  so  much,  JSIr.  Hardy  tells  us 
that  there  is  "some  doubt  as  to  whether  Phihp  is  the  nama  of  the 
nutlioi'."  The  only  ground  assigned  by  Dr.  Giles  for  supposing  thut 
the  compiler  of  the  Life  was  named  Philip  ia  the  fact  thiit  he  found  0. 
".sequence"  in  honour  of  Kecket  ascribed  t-o  one  Philip;  and  it  appears 
I'roia  the  very  uote  on  which  Dr,  Gdes  relies,  that  this  I'luHp,  instead 
iif  having  been  an  otliurwise  unknowu  monk  of  Auue  (aa  lits  editor 
supposes),  was  a  person  whose  name  often  occurs  in  the  lustoiy  of  the 
time,  and  who  even  hguiea  in  tiie  life  of  Decket  himself,  as  abbot  of 
rAumone.  Mr.  Haniy's  modest  doubt,  thereforeH  might  safely  have 
been  espresaed  as  au  iibsolate  certainty. 

No.  470  in.  the  "  Catalogue"  is  the  Pieuch  meti-ical  Life  published 
by  M.  Michel  with  the  Chronicle  of  tlie  Dukes  of  Normandy  by 
Benedict  of  Hte.  31aui-e.f  TJie  writer  who  put  this  Life  into  its  pre- 
sent form  addresses  lils  readei-s  towards  the  end : — 


•  "  Hut.  Litt.  de  la  France,"  xv.  2B4,  29S.  Tim  aiticle,  hoTevBr,  haa  aeveral  inac- 
ourftcie». 

t  Dr.  PoLtbul,  in  Ma  Tcry  TiLluiiliIe  but  not  uiunaQulat«  "  Siblinth^cji  HisCoricft  MeiUi 
£n"  Cp.  909],  wToi]gl3r  idobtifiea  tbls  in«tricBl  Lifa  with  that  by  (jamiiT. 


Becket  Literature.  277 

"  Si  Tiu  en  pri,  pur  Deu  amur 
Ee  roquerei  le  bon  Beignur 

Saint  Tiiomas,. 
Ee  il  eit  mere!  par  ea  duzur 
De  &ere  Beneit  le  pecheur 

Od  lea  neir  dru, 
Ee  ceste  vie  nns  ad  miutr^  \ 
De  IjUin  en  Bonumz  translaU 

Far  nui  aider. 
e  •  •  • 

JViu  et  loi  en  ceete  vie 

Defeodo  tuz  jois  de  rilanie,"  &c. 

(P.  609,  ed.  Hichel.) 

Mr.  Hardy  supposes  that  the  Benedict  here  mentioned  (a  different 
person  from  the  chronicler  of  the  Nonnan  dukes)  was  himself  the 
author  of  the  French  version.  "Whether  he  was  so,  or  whether 
his  part  consisted  in  making  a  prose  translation,  on  which  the 
versifier  was  to  work,  is  a  question  which  seems  to  depend  on  another, 
— ^whether  we  are,  in  some  of  the  lines  ahove  quoted,  to  read  "  mus" 
with  M.  Michel,  or  "otis,"  which  Mr.  Hardy  suggests  as  an  alternative. 
It  is,  however,  more  important  to  inqiiire  who  was  the  author  of  the 
Latin ;  and  we  venture  to  conjecture  that  this  Life  is  a  translation 
fiom  the  lost  work  of  Robert  of  Dunstable  (No.  330).  The  form  is 
in  favour  of  this  supposition ;  for  Eobert's  other  writings  are  in  latin 
Terse,  and  his  Life  of  St  Thomas  may  be  presumed  to  have  been  so  also, 
as  the  Life  translated  by  Benedict  "  It  Pichev/r"  almost  certainly  was. 
Moreover,  Robert  was  a  monk  of  St.  Alban's ;  and  the  Life  in  question 
shows  a  connection  between  the  author  and  that  monastery.  We  do 
not  wish  to  make  too  much  of  these  slight  circumstances,  or  to  give 
our  conjecture  for  more  than  it  may  be  worth :  perhaps  a  careful 
perusal  of  the  Life  might  throw  further  light  on  the  subject. 

There  is  one  biographer  of  whom  we  are  rather  surprised  to  find 
Mr.  Hardy  saying  that  "no  manuscript  is  now  known" — ^William  of 
Canterbury  :•  for  the  existence  of  a  MS.  of  this  writer,  bequeathed 
by  Williajn  of  "Wykeham  to  "Winchester  CoUege,  was  announced  by 
lir.  Baigent  of  "Winchester,  in  the  "Journal  of  the  Archeeological 
Association"  (x.  77),  as  long  ^o  as  1854,  and  has  been  since 
mentioned  in  the  Dublin  Review  (Nov.,  1860,  p.  5),  and  in  the 
Quarterly  Beview  (cxii.  103).  The  Life  fills  only  about  a  fourth 
part  of  the  volume,  the  remainder  being  taken  up  with  a  collection  of 
"Miracles"  in  six  books,  compiled  by  William,  and  sent  by  the  monks 
of  Canterbury  to  Henry  II.  at  the  King's  own  request.-|-    So  much 

•  Thia  biographer  waa  probably  the  same  with  a  monk  of  ChrUtchnrch,  Canterbury, 
named  William,  who  appears  frequently  in  the  correspondence  as  to  the  quarrel  betveen 
\aa  brotherhood  and  Archbishop  Baldwin,  lately  publiehed  by  Mr.  Stabbs.  ("  Uemoriala 
of  Bichaid  I.,"  yol.  ii.,  in  "  Chronicles  and  Memorials  of  Groat  Britain.") 

t  We  have  no  doubt  that  this,  and  not  the  book  of  miracles  publi^ed  by  Dr.  Giles 


27S  Tiie  Contemporary  Review. 

of  the  Life  as  is  important,  and  yet  has  not  been  included  in  the 
"  Quadrilogiis,"  will  probably  have  appeared  in  the  "  Archceologia 
Cantiana"  before  these  pages  see  the  light ;  but  if  ever  a  new  edition 
of  the  wTitings  relating  to  Becket  should  be  undertaken,  it  ia  to  be 
hoped  that  not  only  this  biography  in  a  complete  form,  but  the 
"  Miracula"  by  the  same  ^v^iter  will  be  included.* 

How  much  a  new  edition  is  to  be  desired  we  need  not  say,  as  the 
character  of  Dr.  Giles's  books  is  only  too  well  known  to  aU  who  take 
any  interest  in  the  history  of  Becket;  besides  that  a  great  deal  of 
valuable  matter  is  not  included  in  them,  such  as  the  Lives  by  William 
and  Gamier,  with  that  which  we  suppose  to  be  a  translation  from 
Robert  of  Dunstable.  But  although  we  must  earnestly  wish  for  a 
more  comprehensive  and  better  edited  collection,  there  is,  in  so  far 
as  appears  from  Mr.  Hardy's  extensive  list,  very  little  of  new 
matter  to  be  expected,  or  even  desiderated.  There  is  hardly  any 
record  of  writings  on  the  subject  as  ha^Tug  existed,  in  addition 
to  those  which  are  now  to  be  found ;  '^  nor,  with  the  exception 
of  William  of  Canterbury's  "  Miracula,"  and  of  a  few  such  short 
pieces  as  those  in  the  Lansdowne  MS.  398,  is  there  reason  to 
believe  that  any  knowu  materials  of  interest  remain  unprinted. 
Both  for  the  life  of  Thomas  of  Canterbury,  aud  for  the  consequences 
of  his  death,  the  student  may  find  almost  all  the  information  that 
he  can  need  without  the  trouble  of  deciphering  crabbed  manuscripts, 
although  it  is  to  be  gathered  at  an  expense  of  time,  and  labour, 
and  temper,  whicli  might  have  been  I'ery  greatly  reduced  if  the 
copious  stores  of  biogi'aphy  and  correspondence  had  been  more 
fortunate  in  their  editors. 

J.    C.    KOBERTSOy. 


&9  the  work  of  Benedict  of  Peterborough,  is  the  "  magnus  codex  conscriptus  "  mentiooed 
by  Fitzstcphea,  in  a  passage  which  Mr.  Hardy  refers  to  HL-nedict  (p.  333).  It  may  be  worth, 
while  to  inquire  whether  the  book  of  miracles,  of  which  Mr.  Hardy  mentioas  U3S-  at 
Lambeth,  Cambridgi',  and  Paris  (No.  433),  be  the  same  with  that  in  the  Winchester  MS. 
•  The  "Gestapoat  Martyrium"  (No.  426)  arepartly  taken  from  William  of  Cftnterbiuy. 
'  t  The  loss  of  Benedict  of  Peterborough's  book  (although  wo  should  be  very  glad  to 
recover  it)  ia  probably  not  of  much  importance;  for  it  was  not,  as  Mr.  Hardy  supposeB 
(p.  340),  a  complete  Life,  but  merely  an  account  of  the  "PasMon;"  and  of  this  so  much 
b  given  in  tho  "Quadrilogus"  that  the  remainder  cannot  have  been  verj-  considerable. 


FKENCH  ESTHETICS. 


1.  Du  Vmt,  du  Brau,  tt  du  Bira.    Par  H.  V.  Cocsia.    Omitme  EdiUon. 

1865. 

2.  Cowt  ^E4lhdtique.    Pu  Tk^udosi  Jouffkov.    Deniiema  Edition. 

1SS3. 

3.  J>e  lAH  tt  du  Beau.    Par  F.  Lambk:(a.is.    1363. 

4.  La  Bfienrt  du  Bmu.    Pur  Chablu  L^vkqui.    lSlt2. 

G.  Lt  Sptrituatitme  dant  tArt.    Par  Chabliu  Li'vmVK.    13U. 

5.  PAUoiopMe  dt  tArt.    Pu  B.  T&inm.    1S65. 


IN"  a  volume  of  poems  published  by  Wordswortli  in  1842,  appeared 
a  sonnet,  which  he  was  impelled  to  wTite  "  by  the  disgusting 
fr-eq^uency  with  which  the  word  artistical,  imported  with  other  imper- 
fcinencies  from  the  Germans,  is  employed  by  T\Titei-s  of  the  present 
<^T-a.y."    According  to  Wordsworth,  it  was  used  in  an  approving  way  of 
Sonne  new  and  fashionable  kind  of  poetry,  produced  by  an  artificial 
X>Toces3  which  he  compares  to  casting  in  a  mould,  instead  of  growing, 
lilte  the  wild  flower  or  the  forest  tree,  free  to  their  very  roots,  by  an 
iiilierent  \'itality.     But  is  such  really  the  application  of  the  word,  or 
Inas  there  of  late  years  been  this  reaction  towards   artificiality  in 
Y»oetry  ?    Wlien  we  call  Mr.  Tennyson  a  gren,t  artist,  do  we  mean 
tiliat  " Morte  d'Arthur"  and  "In  Memoriam"  were  manufactured  in 
tlie  same  way  as  area  railings  or  liall-door  knockers  ?     Xo.     "We  have 
a  fine  distinction  in  our  language :  the  late  M.  Soyer,  and  other  men 
of  mark  in  his  profession,  who  turn  out  most  agreeable  compositions 
of  their  own  kind,  we  name  artistes;  Mr.  Tennyson,  who  does  not 
make  compositions,  or  who  at  least  keeps  secret  his  receipt  for  a  lyric 
or  an  idyl,  is  called  an  artist*    We  are  not  yet  tired  of  abusing  the 

•  "Composition,"  aaid  Goetlie  to  Eckermann,  " is  a  thoroughly  contemptible  word,  for 
whlcli  we  hflTe  to  tb&nk  the  French,  and  of  which  wo  should  endeavour  to  rid  ourselves 
&s  soon  u  possible.    Hov  can  one  lay  ^[ozatt  has  eompoatd  (tomponirt)  Don  Juan!    Com- 


280  The  Contempotaiy  Review. 

poor  eighteenth  centxuy,  nor  have  we  ceased  to  love  certain  "  Poems 
of  the  Imagination"  and  "  Poems  of  Sentiment  and  KeflectiMi,"  nor 
come  to  admire  much  certain  "  Ecclesiastical  Sonnets." 

"What,  then,  has  in  truth  called  the  word  "artistieal"  into  frequent 
use  ?  Chiefly  the  exigencies  of  a  new  idea, — the  idea  of  a  common 
basis  or  substance  of  poetry  and  the  other  arts,  a  coromon  centre  at 
which  they  meet,  a  common  function  which  they  fulfil,  and  a  common 
kind  of  creative  power  from  which  they  proceed.  This  conception  of 
the  unity  of  art  is  of  comparatively  recent  origin,  yet  so  readily  is  it 
now  accepted,  that  there  is  danger  at  the  present  day  of  making  too 
little  of  the  differences  existing  between  the  several  forms  of  art,  and 
demanding  results  from  one  mode  of  expression  which  can  be  obtained 
only  by  another.  Much  is  talked  of  painting  with  words,  and  colour- 
ing in  music,  and  we  hear  occasionally  of  the  sculptural  school  of 
jjoetry  and  the  literary  school  of  painters.  These  are  phrases  which 
require  to  be  challenged  fo  render  an  accurate  account  of  themselves. 
Yet  there  is  a  measure  of  truth  in  theih ;  they  recognise  the  fact  that 
words  and  soimds,  and  colouring  and  form,  are  only  different  lan- 
guages by  which  the  same  great  ideas  are  uttered  (with  special  powers 
and  felicities  of  expression  iu  detail);  they  originate  in  the  right  con- 
ception of  art. 

The  want  of  this  right  conception,  the  want  of  perceiving  the  unity 
of  art,  contributed,  with  many  other  causes,  to  delay  the  "growth  of 
the  science  of  testhetics.  A  hundred  years  ago  it  was  in  its  infanty, 
and  had  but  just  received  its  name.*  It  is  still  young,  and  capable 
of  manifold  development.  It  does  not  live,  like  some  branches 
of  psychology  which  treat  exclusively  of  intellectual  phenomena, 
estranged  from  the  thoughts  of  the  people.  Its  results,  like  those  of 
every  form  of  philosophy,  become  a  national  possession  by  depositing 
themselves  in  language.  But  besides  this,  there  is  for  esthetics  an 
active  mediimi  between  the  higher  thought  and  the  popular  in  the 
criticism  of  literature  and  art.  Indeed,  this  criticism  is  now-a-days 
nmch  more  than  a  medium ;  it  is  itself  a  source  of  many  of  the  b^t 
ideas,  and  much  of  the  work  of  aesthetics  is  done  in  this  unsystematic 
way.  This  is  especially  the  case  amongst  ourselves ;  and  the  progress 
of  aesthetics  is  marked  by  the  growth  of  a  new  and  better  criticism, 
more  disinterested,  more  sincere,  more  cultured,  which  will  be  fruitful 


poutiou !  Ab  if  it  were  a  piece  of  calcc  or  biscuit  which  hod  been  stirred  together  out  of 
eggs,  flour,  and  augsr!  It  is  a  Bpirituol  creation,  in  which  the  details,  as  well  ss  the 
irhole,  are  pervaded  by  one  spirit  and  by  the  breath  of  one  life ;  eo  that  the  producer  did 
not  make  experiments,  and  patch  together,  and  follow  his  own  caprice,  but  was  altogether 
in  the  power  of  the  dccmonic  spirit  of  his  genius,  and  acted  according  to  his  orders." 
— Conreriatiotis  of  Goethe  tcilh  £ekermann,  tranaleted  by  John  Oxenford,  voL  ii.,  p.  403. 
*  ".Ssthetica,  Bcripsit  Alexander  Gottlieb  Baomgarten.     17^0." 


French  y£s£hetics.  281 

of  good  in  the  future.  We  cau  perceive,  from  the  early  days  of  the 
Edivhurgk  Sevicw,  some  advance  in  the  insight  of  our  criticism,  in  its 
ascertainment  of  principles,  in  its  freedom  from  political  and  personal 
bias,  in  its  urbanity,  in  its  openness  to  new  ideas.  We  are  now 
endeavouring  in  some  degree  to  see  things  as  they  are,  and  value  less 
the  writer  who  can  only  find  out  something  smart,  or  telling,  or  bnital 
to  say  about  them.  We  are  growing,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  a  little  less 
wilful  in  matters  intellectual,  a  little  less  capricious,  and  a  little  more 
reasonable  and  conscientious. 

At  the  same  time  we  must  confesa,  that  in  its  more  philosophical 

form,  although  in  Hutcheson  Ei^land  had  the  start  of  France  and 

Germany,   our  nation   has   accomplished    little    in    the   science   of 

testhetics.     Set  aside  the  somewhat  irregular  labours  of  Mr.  Ruskin, 

winch  can  hardly  be  called  philosophical,  and  we  have  no  great  work 

to  show  on  this  subject,  no  work  that  can  be  put  in  the  first  or  even 

in  the  second  rank.     This  is  chiefly  to  be  attributed  to  the  empirical 

tendency  of  our  national  thought.     We  are  not  surprised  that  Mr. 

Mill  has  written  no  "  Science  of  the  Beautiful."     Even  Sir  William 

Hamilton  dismisses  the  subject  with  a  few  jjages  at  the  end  of  his 

Lectures  on  Metaphysics,  and  Mr.  Mansel  approves  the  maxim,  *'  De 

giutibus   Tion  disputandum   est,"  in  its   denial   of  objective  beauty. 

If,  then,  there  is  anything  to  be  learned,  it  is  to  French  or  Gennau 

teachers  that  we  must  resort.     In  Germany,  since  the  time  of  Kant^ 

but  especially  in  the  hands  of  Schelling  and  Hegel,  the  science  of  the 

lieaiitiful,  the  princii>les  of  art,  and  the  history  of  its  development, . 

have  been  great  affairs  in  the  life  of  philosophy.     It  is  some  evidence 

of  the  fulness  of  the  current  of  ideas  on  these  matters  in  France,  that 

since  1810  thirty  docteitra  dh  leitrcs  have  chosen  for  the  subjects  of 

their  theses  questions  in  esthetics.*     My  jjurpose  in  this  article  is  to 

give  some  account  of  the  best  tlioughts  about  beauty  and  art  which 

are  to  be  found  amongst  French  thinkers  of  this  eenturj'.     Into  the 

last  century  there  is  little  to  induce  vis  to  look  back.     A  treatise  by 

Cronzas  of  very  slight  value ;  an  essay  on  the  Beautiful  by  a  disciple 

of  ilalebranche's,  the  Jesuit  Father  Andre,  who  may  be  considered  tlie 

fouader  of  French  esthetics ;  and  some  occasional  writings  of  Diderot 

and  Marmontel,  comprise  nearly  all  that  the  eighteenth  century  has, 

left  us.    From  M.  Cousin  the  recent  development  of  the  science  starts,^ 

and  with  him  let  us  begin. 

11. 
In  the  early  years  of  the  present  century  what  was  the  position 
tif  pliiiosophy  in  France?      It  was  this.     Sensualism  had  reached  its 
farthest  development  as  a  speculative  system,  and  was   connecting 

*  Thid  fact  is  mentioned  by  M.  T.evuquo,  "La  Science  dn  Ik'C!i,''  Fieface,  p.  ix. 
VOL    I.  U 


2S2 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


itself,  under  tbe  guidance  chiefly  of  Calmnis  and  Destutt  de  Tracy, 
with  a  luoie  scientific  study  of  phyaiology.  If,  therefore,  there  was 
trt  he  any  philosophy  distinct  from  the  ohservatioii  and  generalizing 
nf  physical  facts,  if  ]i3ychologj'  and  luettiphysiea  were  nut  to  he  aban- 
doned aa  futile,  a  developmtint  of  thought  in  some  new  direction  was 
essential  Miitcmlism.  had  siiid  its  Inst  -word.  To  the  "Syst^me  de 
la  Natiire"  nothing  could  be  added;  the  juSmnit^ne  terrcstre  was 
complete ;  man  was  found  to  Ije  Init  a  link  in  a  great  chain,  of  neces- 
sity ;  those  grey  particles  of  matter  tlie  motions  of  whtth  produce 
deceptive  sensations  of  disinterestedness,  freedom,  love  of  God,  and 
hope  of  a  futm-e  life,  lingered  only  in  the  brains  of  peasant  women 
wlio  still  went  to  their  country  tihurehes,  or  in  tlioss  of  the  Tlieophi- 
lantlmipists  who  worslupped  around  their  symbolical  baakets  ol' 
Bowers,  ai^d  liBtened  to  the  discourses  of  a  Parisian  liigh-priesl. 
Notliin^f  more  remained  fur  mnterialisui  to  accomplish.  But  phili*" 
sophj',  tlie  iiueationing  spirit  of  humanity',  exists  oidy  by  the  activity 
of  mind.  Its  answers  never  contain  the  entire  tr;tth,  and  if  thuy 
stifleu  into  dogma  this  becomes  at  once  apparent.  A  phUosopby  tu 
live  must  leave  itself  room  iur  ['lugress,  must  he  contiiiually  recei"- 
tive,  flexible,  and  in  connection  with  consciousness.  This  had  ceased 
ti.)  lie  the  position  of  jnaterialisni  as  a  speculative  system;  it  bad 
[become  dn-,'m:itiu,  and  the  dugiuatism  of  ne^^ation  is  of  all  do^inalisuis 
tlie  least  living  and  aulf-sufiicing. 

Early  in  this  centur>',  then,  materialism  was  nbont  to  fall  A 
usual,  an  attempt  was  made  to  mediiitc  between  tlie  decnpug  system 
and  that  which  was  to  take  its  place.  In  1811,  M.  Cousin,  then  in 
bis  twentieth  year,  was  a  listener  to  the  lectm-es  iu  whicli  Iji  Boini- 
guiSre,  the  repretsentative  oi'  this  neo-seiisualism,  endeavoured  to  effect 
a  compromise  between  the  principles  of  Coudillac  and  Descartes. 
"  C'litait  un  syst^mo  honorable,  spiJeieus,  surtout  bien  r«dige,  et  I'on 
aiine  tant  les  bonnes  redactions  en  Fnince  !"*  Two  years  later,  M. 
Cousin  was  listening  to  Hoyer-Collartl,  who  attacked  tl;e  sensualist 
philoi9.opby  pot  yet  in  full  front,  but  by  a  successful  ilank  movement. 
Again  two  yt^aw,  and  M,  Cousin  himself,  in  noyer-CoUard's  place, 
was  sweeping  away  eveiywln^Tc  the  lines  of  the  enemy,  and  planting 
the  banner  of  the  new  philosophy  on  their  abandouod  heights. 

But  what  was  this  banner  of  M.  Cousin's  ?  "NVliat  was  the  watch- 
word of  the  movement  of  181a- — 1820  ?  Here  there  has  been  some 
misunderstanding.  " Edfcfirism,"  cry  a  score  of  critical  voices.  But 
this  is  what  M.  Cousin  Idmself  denies.  Indeed,  it  ought  to  l>e  seen 
that  to  name  a  movement  simply  fckcfk  is  to  give  no  hint  as  to  it5 
real  tendency.  Edcdlet  \vs;  but  in  what  way?  Two  eclectic? 
may  be  as  mucli  opposed  as  any  two  thinkers  of  opposite  sclioola.  1 
•  Saiate-Eeuve :  "  Portrail*  deniicra,"  p.  45S. 


a 


Frejuh  yEsihetics.  283 

may  go  through  life  always  looking  at  the  bright  aide  of  things,  and 
you  at  the  dark ;  but  since  life  includes  both  bright  and  dark,  we  are 
both  eclectics.  It  is  only  by  virtue  of  some  tendencies  or  principles 
qf  my  own  that  it  is  possible  for  me  to  make  a  choice,  to  select  some 
and  reject  other  parts  of  a  system  of  thought :  without  these  I  must 
accept  the  whole  or  reject  it ;  I  cannot  discriminate.  Hear  M.  Cousin 
bimaelf, — "  Eclecticism  is  one  of  the  most  important  and  most  useful 
applications  of  the  philosophy  which  we  profess,  but  it  is  not  its 
priucipla  Our  true  doctrine,  our  true  banner,  is  intellectualiam 
(fpiritualistm)."*  To  call  M.  Cousin  simply  an  eclectic  is  to  lose  the 
Idea  of  his  movement,  and  to  obscure  his  relations  both  to  the  sen- 
sualist generation  out  of  which  he  sprang,  and  the  present  intellec- 
taalist  generation,  of  which  he  is  the  parent 

The  most  important  part  of  3l.  Cousin's  work,  however,  from  1815 
to  1820,  was  not  constructive.  The  interests  of  philosophy  recjuired 
before  anything  else  that  he  should  follow  up  the  defeat  of  the  sen- 
soalista,  and  M.  Cousin's  brilliant  dialectical  powers  found  in  this,  no 
doubt,  a  highly  agreeable  exercise.  His  lesthetical  lectures,  accord- 
ingly, b^in  with  a  series  of  negative  propositions.  Beauty  is  not  that 
which  is  pleasing  to  the  senses :  the  taste  of  a  peach  is  dehcious,  it  is 
not  beautiful.  "  Dc  gustihus  non  disputaridum  est:"  if  any  one  asserts 
that  he  gets  more  pleasure  from  looking  at  the  Venus  of  the  Hotten- 
tots than  the  Venus  of  Milo,  what  right  have  I  to  say  it  shotUd  not 
be  80  ?  None ;  unless  this  involves  the  judgment  that  the  Hottentot 
Venus  is  the  more  beautiful,  when  I  take  a  high  tone  and  pronounce 
hini  to  be  in  error.  Nor  is  beauty  merely  a  form  of  agreeable  emo- 
tion,— we  have  just  seen  that,  apart  from  a  judgment  of  the  beautiful, 
we  could  not  justly  condenm  any  person  for  admiring  anything. 
Could  we  make  the  feeling  of  the  majority  a  test  of  what  is  right  in 
matters  of  taste  ?  No ;  we  can  often  declare  unhesitatingly  that  the 
feeling  of  the  majority  is  wrong.  How  so  ?  What  right  have  we  ?  If 
mea  differ  about  beauty  in  various  classes  of  society,  various  periods 
of  time,  various  countries  of  the  world,  can  we  venture  to  maintain. 
that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  real  and  invariable  beauty  1  Yes ;  tliat 
is  what  our  consciousness  affirms,  and  we  have  no  more  doubt  of  the 
reality  of  beauty,  because  men  differ  about  it,  than  we  have  of  the 
reality  of  right  and  wrong,  because  there  is  some  divergence  in  men's 
moral  judgments. 

For  a  positive  theory,  M.  Cotisin  falls  back  on  the  old  doctrine  that 
Iwaaty  is  composed  of  unity  and  variety.  But  this,  a  moment's  con- 
sideration will  show  us,  is  quite  inadequate.  Unity  and  variety  may 
be  the  conditions  of  the  perception  of  beauty,  but  assuredly  they  do 
not  constitute  it.  They  are  conditions  of  the  perception  of  everything 
•  "  Da  Vni,  dn  Be*a,  et  du  Bien,"  ATant-propos,  p.  xl,  11"**  Edit. 


284 


Tfie  Contemporary  Review. 


tliat  hiis  substance  and  atti-ibutes.  There  are  unity  and  variety  la 
hog,  au  ape.  a  frog,  in  tlie  same  way  as  in  a  stag  or  hound  ;  yet  these. 
are  beautifid  and  Ihoae  are  ugly.  Besides,  these  words,  "  unity  "  and 
"  variety,"  have  half-a-dozen  meaningSf  and  M.  Cousin  does  not  tell  us^ 
in  wbick  of  these,  or  if  in  aU,  they  constitute  beauty.  There  ate- 
unities  and  varieties  of  place,  of  time,  of  end,  of  cause,  of  substance- 
It  is  worth  little  to  repeat  an  old  phrase  without  exphining^  -what 
hei-o  precisely  means,  or  proving  it  in  any  meaning  to  be  true. 

What  is  more  novel  in  M.  Cousin's,  theory  is  the  reduction  of 
physical  and  intellectual  to  moral  beauty.  But  in  this  wliat  is  new  is 
not  true,  and  has  to  be  abandoned  in  substance,  thougli  the  appearance 
of  originality  is  retained.  If  the  word  " moml"  be  taken  strictly  it  i.s 
ea-sy  to  prove  that  the  theory  ia  false.  ^Vbat  is  the  moral  character  of 
a  rose  ?  Is  it  more  virtuous  than  a  celandine  or  kingcup  ?  Surely  it 
would  not  lie  hard  to  show  in  a  brilliant  exposition,  after  the  manner 
of  some  French  thporizers,  that  the:  celandine,  struggling  against  the 
rains  and  frosts  of  February,  possesses  a  far  nobler  character  than  the 
luxurious  (yet,  ah,  how  superbly  beautiful!)  queen-flowTr  of  mid- 
suininer.  Here  we  have  beauty  apart  from  morality.  Nor  is  it 
harder  to  find  morality  apart  from  beauty.  It  ia  a  moral  duty  for 
moat  persons  to  get  out  of  Ixjd  each  morning  before  eleven  o'clock, 
yet  the  action  of  getting  out  of  bed  does  not  impress  us  as  beautiful 
or  sublime.  It  i-?  just  (and  M.  Cousin  has  analysed  moml  beauty 
into  justiLc  and  charity)  to  pay  one's  tailor's  bills ;  dutiful  ft  certainly 
is,  beautifid  it  certainly  ia  not.  It  is  Just  for  a  mother  to  send  a  dis- 
obeilient  cldld  to  lier  bedroom,  but  there  ia  nothing  in  this  whicb 
excites  onr  admiration  unless  (a  most  suggestive  "  unless  ")  her  love 
and  pity  are  so  great  that  it  requires  a  strong  effort  of  the  principle  of 
justice  to  pass  the  sentence  and  carry  it  into  execution.  M.  Cousin, 
linwcver,  anticipated  these  objectious,  and  makes  an  explanation  which 
altera  the  entire  character  of  his  system.  All  kinds  of  beauty  are 
i-educilile  to  moral ;  hut  by  moral  we  are  to  understanil,  besides  what 
is  properly  so  colled,  aU  spiritiml  beauty.  The  theory  becomes-  much 
more  flexible  with  this  explanation,  but  the  flexibility  is  gained  at  the- 
expense  of  aU  in  it  that  is  originaL  If  there  ia  spiritna!  beauty  of 
any  other  kind  tlian  justice  and  charity,  it  is  only  eonfuaing  names 
to  call  it  moral.  All  current  British  coins  may  be  called  ludt- crowns,. 
— understanding  by  this,  besides  half-cromis  proper,  all  sovereigns, 
shillings,  pence,  i&c.  To  say  this  ia  perfectly  legitimate,  but  it  does 
not  give  us  a  clearer  view  of  the  currency.  M.  Cousin's  theory,  then. 
aiBounts  merely  to  the  denial  of  independent  physical  beauty;  all 
that  is  Wsibly  beautiful  is  so  only  by  virtue  of  the  in-visible.  Tliis, 
liowever,  is  as  old  as  Plato.  Plotinus  had  uained  the  beautiful  "  the 
apleadour  of  the  good;"  and  iu  recent  times  Keid  had  taught  that 


i 


French  Esthetics.  285 

physical  beauty  is  not  primitive  but  derived,  a  sign  of  the  beauty 
which  the  eye  cannot  behold. 

It  is  not  in  his  theorizing  about  beauty,  but  in  his  discussion  of  the 
principles  of  art,  that  M.  Cousin's  chief  contributions  to  the  science  of 
aisthetica  will  be  found.  As  before,  he  begins  with  negative  doctrine. 
The  end  of  art  is  not  the  literal  imitation  of  nature.  ^Nothing  is  more 
certain,  understanding  by  Tuiture  the  appearances  of  things.  ■  We  do 
not  find  fault  with  the  Apollo  of  the  Belvidere,  because  the  eyeballs 
are  suppressed.  We  have  not  discovered  what  Beethoven  imitated  in 
his  sonatas,  nor  is  there  any  account  left  of  Shakspere's  models  for 
Ariel  and  Caliban.  Yet  though  no  mere  imitations,  these  are  pro- 
foundly true  to  nature, — true  to  its  laws  thougli  not  to  its  circum- 
Btanees.  Nor  is  the  end  of  art  illusion.  A  statue  makes  no  attempt 
to  deceive  me :  if  it  attempted  this,  it  could  uot  succeed :  if  it  were 
to  succeed,  the  resthetical  emotion  would  vanish ;  I  sliould  think  the 
Apollo  a  very  remarkable  young  man,  uot  a  work  of  art.  I  should 
«ipect  motion,  and  other  proofs  of  life,  and  feel  disappointed  when  I 
waited  for  them  in  vain.  It  is  a  poor  kind  of  art  which  attempts  to 
deceive.  Madame  Tussaud's  gallery  in  Baker  Street  is  held  by  severe 
judges  to  contain  works  of  art  of  a  lower  order  than  some  of  those  in 
the  British  Museum ;  yet  country  children  may  be  obsen'ed  nightly 
clutching  their  mother's  gowns  in  presence  of  John  Knox  and  Mr. 
Macready,  or  gazing  with  fascination  into  the  eyes  of  Napoleon's 
favourite  Mameluke.  If  the  wigs  could  reacli  even  a  higher  point  of 
realistic  art,  if  the  eyes  were  yet  more  lustrous  blues  and  greys,  and 
the  complexions  of  a  yet  more  delicate  bloom,  still  the  headless  Fates, 
and  the  noseless  and  footless  Theseus,  immortal  fragment !  would  pro- 
<lace  a  sense  of  larger  and  more  serious  truth,  and  fill  our  hearts  with 
a  glow  of  nobler  emotion. 

It  is  not  easy  to  say  in  1866  what  in  1818  was  M.  Cousin's  most 
important  contribution  to  aesthetics.  Two  appear  especially  note- 
worthy :  first,  his  vindication  of  the  independence  of  art ;  secondly, 
Iiis  enoimcement  of  the  principle  that  the  end  of  art  is  to  express  the 
invisible. 

Art  has  an  end  of  its  own,  enacts  its  laws  freely  with  reference 
to  this  end,  is  a  self-governing  republic,  aud  is  not  a  dependency  of 
utility,  or  science,  or  history,  or  politics,  or  morality,  or  religion, — 
these  were  great  truths  to  proclaim,  and  yet,  in  the  mind  of  one  who 
fails  to  apprehend  them,  the  first  idea  of  art  has  not  yet  emerged. 
Kant  (although  he  makes  the  theory  of  taste,  like  religion,  a  corollary 
of  morality)  clearly  saw  the  independence  of  art  when  be  declared 
that  it  has  its  principle  and  end  in  the  idea  of  beauty,  j  Goethe,  by 
his  practice  and  his  theoretical  teaching,  had  formed  the  true  concep- 
tion of  art  in  the  mind  of  the  Germans.     "  It  is  based,"  said  he,  "  on 


286  Tlie  Contemporary  Review. 

a  stroi^  sentiment  of  religion,  on  a  profound  and  mighty  earnestness : 
hence  it  is  prone  to  co-operate  with  religion."  The  origin  of  art  in 
eveiy  nation  confii-ms  this :  but  is  it  therefore  governed  at  its  secret 
heart  by  any  controlling  intention  with  regard  either  to  religious 
faith  or  religious  emotion?  Nob  consciously — not  as  axt.  Hear 
another  sentence  of  Goethe's,  a  really  wonderful  sentence,  in  which 
the  truth  on  this  subject  is  cut  out  at  a  single  stroke: — ^"Eeligion 
stands  in  the  same  relation  to  art  as  any  other  of  the  higher  interests 
of  life.  It  is  a  subject,  and  its  rights  are  those  of  all  other  subjecta" 
Morality  and  religion  are  no  more  the  direct  ends  of  art  than  they  mc 
the  ends  of  chemistry  or  engineering.  The  supremacy  of  conscience 
does  not  mean  that  conscience  enacts  the  laws  of  every  form  of  human 
activity,  but  that  it  has  the  power  of  putting  a  veto  upon  any  measure 
which  is  antagonistic  to  its  own  laws.  The  judgment,  "  This  is  beau- 
tiful," is  (luite  distinct  from  the  judgment,  "  This  is  right."  It  is  not 
of  morality  or  even  religion  that  the  wild  flowers  first  speak  to  a  mind 
of  perfect  sanity ;  but  they  are  living,  they  are  beautiful,  and  we  bow 
over  them  with  a  joy,  a  yearning,  and  a  tender  dread.  They  do  not 
teach  us  anything  till  they  have  made  ns  feel  how  beautiful  they  are. 

"And  is  there  any  moral  shut 
Within  the  bosom  of  a  rose?" 

asks  IVIr.  Tennyson.  Beauty  has  its  own  largesse  and  blessing  for  the 
heart,  quite  other  than  that  of  moral  teaching ;  and  if  the  rose,  after 
the  manner  of  roses  in  the  fables,  could  tell  us  that  "  Virtue  is  its  own 
reward,"  or  that  "  Falsehood  should  not  be  practised,"  we  might  think 
it  a  very  ethical  little  flower,  and  feel  grateful  to  it  for  supplying  us 
with  lines  for  our  children's  copy-books ;  but  its  beauty  would  still  be 
something  reaching  our  heart  in  its  own  w^y,  quite  apart  from  these 
moral  reflections.  The  artist  who  is  preoccupied  with  some  moral  or 
religious  purpose,  which  is  to  enter  into  Iiis  art,  and  determine  the 
product,  even  wlien  his  work  has  more  to  do  with  life  and  character 
than  with  what  we  call  physical  beauty,  wUl  inevitably  produce  bad 
work.  It  is  not  life  which  he  will  represent  or  interpret  in  its  depth 
and  fulness,  but  his  own  particular  little  theory  of  life.  He  is  not 
really  labouring  for  art's  sake,  but  using  art  to  prove  something, — 
something,  perhaps,  giving  no  larger  an  account  of  life  than  that  a 
working  man  is  the  better  for  joining  a  total  abstinence  society,  or 
that  a  parish  is  in  an  enviable  condition  when  the  curate's  ^'iews  are 
high-church  or  low-church.  These  things  may  be  worth  proving,  but 
it  is  a  poor  kind  of  art  which  aims  at  this.  Even  as  teaching,  how 
meagre  are  the  morals  drawn  from  life  (life  being  coi^idered  as 
material  for  moralizing),  compared  with  the  fulness  of  teaching  we 
receive  from  any  true  representation  of  life  itself.     Life  teaches  ua  in 


French  Esthetics.  287 

a  thousand  ways,  and  ia  really  inexhaustible.  Life  analysed  in 
accordance  with  some  theory  teaches  little,  and  that  little  badly ;  for 
we  have  a  sense  of  the  inadequacy  of  the  representation.  What  is 
the  moral  of  "Lear"  or  "  Hamlet"?  If  tliey  were  intended  to  teach 
some  set  principle,  they  wotdd  have  the  characteristic  of  all  didactic 
art,  their  meaning  would  be  exhaustible  ;  but  they  are  works  of 
genuine  art,  and  therefore  we  return  to  them  again  and  again,  and 
find  them  perpetually  full  of  the  mystery  of  human  life,  which  will 
not  be  comprehended  in  a  proposition. 

We  are  beginning  now-a-days  to  acknowledge  this.  We  are  begin- 
ning to  smile  at  the  poetical  justice  without  which,  not  long  ago,  it 
was  considered  improper  to  wind  up  a  story.  We  believe  that  nobler 
and  fuller  teaching  comes  from  representing  life  as  indeed  life  is. 
Murder  does  not  always  out ;  the  rogues  are  not  always  whipped  and 
put  in  the  stocks ;  they  sometimes  get  oft'  with  parchment  addresses 
and  presentations  of  plate.  Yes ;  but  no  little  piece  of  roguery,  no 
little  piece  of  dishonest  work,  was  ever  done  without  bringing  an 
inevitable  consequence — moral  injury;  and  for  external  punishment  in 
nearly  every  instance,  the  possihility  of  unforeseen  calamity  to  oneself 
or  others.  If  there  is  an  underlying  tendency  in  the  nature  of  crime 
that  it  shoidd  discover  itself  on  earth,  and  this  is  liindered  only  by 
accidental  circumstances,  let  the  ai-tist  make  this  tendency  apparent ; 
only  let  him  develop  it  in  proportion,  and,  since  his  work  is  ideal, 
make  not  only  this  one  but  all  the  tendencies  of  things  more  apparent 
than  they  are  in  reality.  But  let  liim  fling  away  that  paltry  poetical 
justice  of  his,  and  regard  as  sufficient  the  terrible  justice  of  God  ;  let 
him  teach  us  something  nobler  than  the  huckstering  virtues,  of  which 
the  great  result  is  called  "success  in  life;"  let  his  teaching  be  to 
show  us,  really  or  ideally,  life  itself,  with  its  capricious  and  unsuc- 
cessful little  laws  of  men's  deWsuig,  and  its  solemn  laws  of  God's 
appointment,  which  are  deep,  universal,  and  never  fnisti-ated,  tliough 
their  effects  may  be  delayed ;  and  when  his  work  closes,  let  it  close 
leaving  the  sense  of  unity, — the  sad  or  joyous  story  of  a  life  on  earth, 
one  round  of  existence, — but  not  the  sense  of  finality,  as  if  the  whole 
purpose  of  the  life  were  told.  Such  art  is  high  art  indeed,  in  the 
great  style,  full  of  noble  meaning  for  human  souls.  It  is  not  in  the 
service  of  religion  or  morality ;  it  has  its  own  function  to  fulfil :  but  it 
co-operates  with  them,  as  everythii^  earnest  and  noble  co-operates 
with  all  else  that  is  earnest  and  noble  in  the  soul.  If  it  is  not  in  the 
service  of  religion  or  morality,  neither  can  it  ever  be  in  the  service  of 
irreligion  or  immorality.  All  tilings  are  not  to  be  represented  by  art ; 
truth  to  the  laws  of  our  own  nature,  truth  to  its  law  of  beauty,  forbid 
that.  Tliere  is  nothing  in  us  which  demands  the  representiition  of 
what  is  u^ly  for  ugliness'  sake.     Tliere  is  nothing  in  us — except  wliat 


288  Tlie  Contemporary  Review. 

we  are  tn'ing  to  expel  from  our  oonstitution,  and  which  is  therefore  no 
elenientan'  part  of  it — wliicli  deiuaiKla  the  representation  of  what  ia 
merely  sinful  anil  vicious.  Both  wliat  is  ugly  ami  what  is  wicked 
have  their  place  in  art,  but  only  for  the  sake  of  what  is  nohle  and 
Ijeautitul  If  we  have  Duessa  we  have  Una;  if  we  have  Kcgan  we 
have  Cordelia ;  if  we  liave  lago  we  have  I>esdenionB. 

Before  speaking  of  the  principle  that  the  end  of  ait  is  to  cxi>re33 
the  invisihle,  it  will  Imj  necessary  to  explain  what  is  meant  by  the 
somewhat  vague  term,  "the  invisible ;"  and  before  doing  this  we  take 
leave  of  M.  Cousin.  Here  it  in  worth  observing  how  this  jtrinciiile 
and  that  of  the  indejiendence  of  art  were  adopted  and  popularized  by 
the  leaders  of  the  Koniantic  movement  iu  literature.  First,  I  believe, 
fn)ni  il.  Cousin  was  heard  a  watchword  of  theirs  now  so  well  known, 
"  L'art  2)oii>-  Vari."  And  the  principle  that  art  should  express  the 
invi.sible  may  be  connected,  by  a  very  easy  pen-ersion,  with  their  dis- 
dain of  physical  beauty,  and  their  attempt  to  give  increased  prepoii- 
^lerance  in  art  to  spirit  (jvur  matter,  soul  over  body,  which  Iiad  long 
lo.'^t  and  never  can  recover  their  old  classical  equilibrium.* 


III. 

To  introduce  here  some  notice  of  the  gresitest  work  on  n;5thetica 
which  France  has  yet  produced,  I  cannot  do  better  than  give  the 
rearler  two  quotations, — the  first  from  Emile  Saisset,  the  second  from 
!^[.  Sainte-Beuve. 

"Ill  >[.  Coiisin's  audit'iicp,"  wrote  Kniile  Siii-t,>4(;t,  "thtrc  was  a  young 
man  whom  the  l»reath  of  the  new  sjiirit  bad  tnucliecl.  A  nature  n-Heotive, 
inward,  niotUtitive.  Xfitlicr  pbilosojthioal  controversy  ii<ir  eruJition  at- 
tracted hinL  That  Condillac  was  dect-ivcd  on  the  origin  of  ideas  mattered 
little  to  him,  anfl  he  cared  not  very  mucli  to  know  what  Plato  and  Aristotle, 
Descartes  ami  lAsilmitz  liad  thmifjht  on  the  iiatun;  of  tliiuKs ;  but  to  lift  a 
little,  thoii},'Ii  but  a  little  it  might  l)e,  the  veil  which  hides  the  initial  truths 
of  philos(]]ihy,  tliia  it  was  which  stmngly  attracted  his  intellect,  and  he 
phinged  with  eaf,'('nieaR  into  psychological  analysis,  not  to  find  a  new  system, 
to  found  a  school,  or  to  hear  the  cries  around  him  of  enthusiastic  discipha 
and  dcfiperate  opiwineiits,  and  all  the  noise  which  is  callei.1  gloi^-,  but  rather 
to  enjoy  within  himself  tlie  perception  of  tnith,  the  happiness  of  cloar-sighted- 
nvR^  in  his  thouglits — nmre  than  all,  to  give  srime  solace  to  a  sold  profoumlly 
troubled  by  the  problem  of  human  destiny.  Such  were  the  secret  tendencies 
of  this  student  <if  the  iSorbonne,  M-ith  the  mild  and  melancholy  face,  lately 
come  fniiu  the  mouidains  of  the  Jura  to  the  Normal  School,  and  which  wero  to 
render  illustrious  the  name  of  .Touffroy.  To  the  intellect  and  the  soul  of  a 
thinker  he  united  the  imagination  of  a  poet,  and  after  his  laboiira,  and  thw 
austere  joys  of  i>hilosoi)hical  reflection,  he  knew  no  relaxations  sweeter  than 

•  On  the  rtl&tion  of  M.  Cuu^iu's  doctrines  to  the  Itomantic  moTcmcnt,  »ce  an  instntctirs 
and  vcrydiMgreesblebcokbj-A.Mi.hiels,  "Uistoiredes  Ideea  Ut tenures  en  France," toL 
ii.,  p.  9. 


French  Esthetics.  289 

the  contemplation  of  nature  and  the  exquisite  cmotiona  of  art.  Still  at  the 
age  of  a  schoolboy,  he  wrote  for  hia  Doctor's  degree  a  thesis  *  On  the  Emo- 
tion of  the  Beautiful'  The  ideas  which  were  then  in  the  germ  (in  1816),. 
developed  by  the  fertilizing  wonis  of  M.  Cousin,  were  not  slow  to  blossom. 
In  1822  the  Normal  School  was  suppressed  M.  Jouffroy,  driven  from  his 
chair,  conceived  the  idea  of  making  another,  lesa  expoaed  to  the  action  of  a 
violent  and  suspicious  government,  by  gathering  around  him,  in  a  student's 
modest  chamber,  a  score  of  young  people,  his  contemporaries  and  companions. 
This  little  chamber  of  the  Hue  du  Four  has  a  place  in  history.  The 
unknown  young  people  boro  the  names  of  Duchiitel,  Vitet,  l)amiron, 
Dubois,  Sainte-lieuve.  It  was  Tlie  Globe  in  its  cradle,  growing  in  obscurity, 
and  preparing  by  abstract  meditation  for  tlie  great  struggles  of  public 
hfe."« 

To  this  circle  of  friends  it  was  that  Jouffroy  delivered  liis  "  Coura 
d'Esth^tiijue."  M.  Sainte-Beuve's  recollections  of  these  gatherings  of 
the  Rue  du  Four  are  given  with  his  usual  delicacy  of  colouring  and 
pureness  of  outline ; — 

"  These  private  courses  of  lectiu^s  were  very  select ;  some  spirits  already 
mature,    companions   of  the   master,  some   physicians  since   celebrated,  a 
studious  and  choice  few  from  the  salonn,  several  representatives  of  the  young 
and  futiuu  peerage,  composed  the  usual  audience,  which  was  far  from  numer- 
ous, as  the  room  was  small,  and  a  more  considerable  gathering  would  readily 
have  become  an  object  of  suspicion  before  1828.     To  these  discourses  011 
philosophy  the  listeners  were  invited  only  once  a  week :  they  came  with 
Warmth  and  some  degree  of  caution,  as  if  to  drink  of  a  new  and  forbidden 
science,  from  which  was  expected  some  of  the  purer  faith  of  the  future. 
When  the  audience  of  fifteen  or  twenty  liad  slowly  come  togetlier,  when  the 
key  had  been  removed  from  the  outer  door,  and  the  last  strokes  of  the  little 
bell  had  ceased,  the  professor,  standing  leaning  on  the  mantelpiece,  began  in 
n  low  voice,  and  after  a  long  silence.    The  face,  the  figure  even  of  M.  Jouffroy 
is  one  of  tlioso  which  most  deeply  impress  one  at  first  sight,  by  I  know  not 
"what  of  melancholy,  of  reserve,  which  makes  one  feel  involuntarily  tlie 
presence  of  a  mysterious  and  noble  stranger  ('  inconnu,'  uiiknoifn).     Then 
he  began  to  speak  :  he  spoke  of  the  beautiful,  or  of  moral  good,  or  of  the 
immortality  of  the  soid :  in  those  days  his  more  delicate  complexion,  his 
cheeks  slightly  hollow,  the  deeper  blue  of  his  eyes,  adilcd  in  the  mind  to 
the  ideal  reminiscences  of  the  'Phajdo.'     The  tone  of  his  voice  after  the  first 
half,,  which  was  monotonous  enough,  rose  and  grew  animated,  while  his 
irords  followed  quicker  on  one  another.     His  eloquence,  now  imfolded,  con- 
tinued after  the  hour  was  passed,  and  knew  not  how  to  come  to  an  end. 
The  declining  day  made  the  scene  more  solemnly  impressive  :  full  of  faith, 
and  deeply  moved,  the  hsteners  went  out,  congratulating  themselves  on  the 
fruit-bearing  seeds  of  thought  they  had  receiveiL     M.  Jouffroy  has  justified 
"what  was  expected  from  him  ;  but  for  those  who  heard  him  in  these  private 
discourses,  nothing  has  given  back,  nor  will  give  back,  the  charm   and 
influence  of  the  time."  t 

The  "  Cours  d'Esth^tique  "  consists  of  forty  lectures.     It  was  pre- 
X>ared  after  JouflTroy'g  death  by  his  most  intimate  friend,  M.  Damiron, 

*  "  L'Ame  et  la  Vie,  suiri  d'un  Esaincn  critique  do  I'Elstb^tique  fTnii9!uae.    Par-  Emile 
Saiiset,"  pp.  98-100. 

t  "Portraita  litteraireB,"  vol.  L,  pp.  320-1. 


ago  The  Contemporary  Review. 

from  notes  taken  by  M.  Delorme,  an  attendant  at  the  lecturea, 
and  approved  by  Joufiroy  himself.  It  is  a  faithful  transcription  of 
Jouffroy's  thought,  but  the  perfection  of  form  and  the  charm  of  style 
■which  its  author  would  have  given  it  are  in  some  degree  wanting. 
Hence  no  doubt  in  part,  and  in  part  from  the  circumstance  of  its 
posthumous  publication,  the  book  is  less  known  than  it  deserves.  M. 
Cousin's  lectures  on  "  The  True,  the  Beautiful,  and  the  Good "  have 
reached  an  eleventh  edition,  and  are  translated  into  Englisii.  The 
"  Cours  d'Esth^tique,"  a  work  of  sincere  thought,  with  none  of  the 
easy  magnificence  of  M.  Cousin's  views,  still  remains  in  a  second 
edition,  and  is  scarcely  ever  referred  to  in  the  resthetical  criticism  of 
our  journals.  Yet  perhaps  one  of  the  causes  of  its  comparatively 
slight  popularity  in  France  is  the  very  circumstance  that  it  possesses 
so  largely  that  spirit  of  patient  research  and  that  carelessness  of 
attaining  merely  showy  results,  wliich  we  may,  in  no  vainglorious 
spirit,  claim  as  characteristics  of  our  own  great  philosophical  works. 
French  writers,  great  and  small,  exhibit  too  often  a  tendency  to  leap 
to  a  striking  synthesis  before  half  their  analysis  is  complete.  Tliey 
long  to  tell  you  the  iMa  of  the  representative  camel  before  they  half 
know  what  a  camel  is.  M.  Cousin  is  subject  to  this  weakness.  He 
gives  us  wonderful  views  of  his  own,  and  applies  them  to  something 
to  which  they  are,  in  fairness,  wholly  inapplicable.  He  is  too  im- 
patient to  wait  tUl  the  object  before  him  produces  its  true  impression, 
but  he  has  so  great  a  genius  for  misconceiving  it  in  a  rapid  and 
brilliant  way,  that  he  never  disappoints  any  reader  except  one  who  is 
pedant  enough  to  wish  to  see  things  as  they  are,  not  as  they  may  be 
made  to  appear.  Any  one  who  has  studied  M-ith  care  his  lectures  on 
Locke's  philosophy,  comparing  them  \vith  the  "Essay  concerning 
Human  Understanding,"  will  know  tliat  what  has  been  said  is  strictly 
just.  Not  for  a  page  is  M.  Cousin  to  be  trusted  in  those  lectures,  and 
scarcely  a  single  critical  misdemeanour  could  be  named  of  which  he 
might  not,  out  of  them,  be  convicted.  Joufiroy  is  in  this  respectthe 
exact  opposite  of  M.  Cousin.  He  does  not  come  to  a  subjectjpreoccu- 
pied  with  its  idea,  whUe,  on  the  other  hand,  he  is  wholly  free'^from 
such  nervous  apprehension  of  a  generalization  as  we  meetTwith  in 
Stewart  He  is  sincere,  patient,  imtiring ;  a  man  bom  to  follow^truth 
and  find  it,  even  though  it  must  be  sought  tlirougli  long  and  devious 
ways.  His  intellectiwl  gifts,  rare  and  vigorous  as  they  are,*"  never 
seduce  him  into  betraying  his  intellectual  conscience.  He  is  not 
exceedingly  anxious  to  cry  Voild.  h  Vrai !  VoiJa  Ic  Beau .'  j  Voila  k 
Bicn .'  to  an  ecstjitic  company  of  youths,  the  hope  of  the  future,  wlio 
in  turn  cry  Voila  !  He  does  not  hurry  to  his  syntheses ;  his  preced- 
ing analyses  are  profound,  delicate,  thorough,  and  (to  use  an  admirably 
ai)propriate  word  of  EinUe  Saisset's)  obstin^cs,  stuljbornly  persistent. 


French  Esthetics.  291 

My  readers  will  remember  the  Hampton  Court  maze,  with  the 
ladder  whereon,  some  years  ago  at  least,  in  the  merry  summer  days,  a 
man  would  stand  to  direct  the  puAled  people  who  hegan  to  grow 
apprehensive  lest  they  should  have  to  spend  the  remaining  term  of 
their  natural  lives  in  wandering  to  and  fro  from  one  green  impass- 
able alley  to  another.  In  the  "  Cours  d'Esthetique "  we  enter  sucli 
a  maze.  There  in  the  centre  is  the  idea  of  beauty ;  tlie  misfortune  is, 
there  is  no  man  and  no  ladder  visible  here.  But  M.  Jouffroy  has 
been  at  the  centre  and  volunteers  to  guide  us ;  only  we  must  be  in  no 
hurry  to  get  there.  Up  this  path  and  down  that  he  leads  us,  and  will 
not  have  us  take  it  on  liis  word  that  they  end  unsuccessfully.  Even 
when  we  are  Tvithin  a  hedge  of  the  centre,  and  perceive  uumistakeably 
the  rest  of  our  way,  there  are  discovered  still  one  or  two  wTong  turns 
to  investigato,  till  at  last  we  are  brought  to  the  place  our  guide 
intended,  while  we  liear  without  the  Scotch  phdosophers,  and  Burke, 
and  Diderot,  and  Aristotle,  and  Kant,  and  Augustine,  each  in  his  own 
blind  alley,  hallooing  that  he  has  just  hit  upon  tlie  right  path ;  and  the 
disappointed  people,  making  the  best  of  their  way  back,  are  heard  declar- 
ing that  after  all  there  is  nothing  to  find,  no  centre — evidently  no  centre. 

And  is  there  a  centre  after  all  1  Truly  one  comes  at  [times  to 
doubt  that  it  has  ever  been  quite  penetrated  to,  or  indeed  can  be.  I 
fear  there  is  some  subtile  and  mysterious  element  in  beauty  which  all 
our  analysis  is  insufficient  to  unveil,  something  which  is  too  spiritual 
to  be  riveted  in  the  bonds  of  a  definition.  Is  the  science  of  aesthetics 
consequently  futile  ?  Yes,  if  it  accomplishes  nothing ;  unless  it  gives 
us,  in  phrases  of  the  understanding,  a  perfectly  adequate  account  of 
what  such  language  is  too  pure  a  work  of  thought  to  contain.  But 
not  futile  in  seeking  to  learn  continually  more  and  more  about  tlie 
conditions  of  beauty  and  its  relations  to  the  spirit  of  man.  In  criti- 
cism, too,  we  meet  with  an  element  which  defies  our  analysis,  which 
slips  back  from  our  definitions,  and  yet  which  is  the  source  of  what  is 
best  in  literature  and  art,  and  we  call  this  clement  "genius."  Is  criti- 
cism therefore  futile  ?  Has  genius  no  laws,  no  conditions  ^for_^  its 
development?  Has  literature  no  principles?  Has  its  history  no 
meaning  ?  Have  its  schools  no  characteristics  ?  And  has  criticism 
taught  us  nothing  about  all  these  ?  has  it  only  succeeded  in  enfeebling 
our  sensibiUty,  and  left  our  intelligence  as  xmilluminated  as  that  of 
our  ancestors  who  listened,  like  three-years  children,  to  the  old 
ballads  of  the  land  ?  Not  so.  Everyivhere,  in  geometry,  in  asti-o- 
nomy,  in  morality,  in  religion,  in  aesthetics,  we  find  questions— -(■ques- 
tions in  all  but  the  positive  sciences — not  troubluig  the  philosopher 
alone,  but  sounding  in  the  heart  of  every  man,  which  the  world  has 
been  trying,  age  after  age,  to  answer,  and  which  still  remain]|urging  us 
to  renewed  inquiry.      Has  the  endeavour  to  find  answers  for  these 


29: 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


questions  Ijeen  idle  ?  No.  The  hieroglyph  ia  not  yet  (perhajw 
nevei'  will  lie)  unriddled,  l»itt  u  word  here  and  a  "wonl  there  has  founJ 
an  interjireter,  and  these  have  "Heeii  in  tlieinsclvea  a  revislatioii.  We 
should  not  he  pnorer  only  in  imagination,  hut  infinitely  poorei'  in 
reality,  if  Plato  had  not  wiitten  Ida  "Banqnet,"  or  Hpinoza  hi^ 
"Ethics,"  or  Fidite  his  "AVay  tmvai'da  the  Blessed  Life."  The  Utile 
thinpis.  whicdi  lie  about  our  feet  are  perhaps  very  clear  and  distinct. 
lint  (here  are  ^Teat  things  liefore  and  iiroimil  its  which  lie  in  the 
shallow^  and,  n'ith  cppiiture-s  like  om'aelves,  the  value,  the  importance 
nf  n  thoujiht  in  the  spiritual  and  intellectual  life  is  measured  by  other 
considenttions  in  iulditinn  to  its  certainty  and  its  clearness  for  the 
understanding.  This  ■will  ajiply  to  inetaphy-eica ;  but  descending  to 
psycholof^',  tljere  are  results  to  show  in  almost  every  branch  of  it, 
both  well  secured  and  numerous,  and  every  year  ia  adding  to  their 
nund.'er  and  multiplying^  tlieir  relntious. 

T!ie  great  q\ieation  of  the  "  Couj-s  d'Eatluitique  "  is  this.  "  \Miat  do  I 
mean  when  I  say  of  .1  thing,  It  is  iM^itutifvd  V  There  .ire  two  parts 
in  this  tpiestkin — certain  fact^,  and  the  explanation  of  the  fucts.  lu 
every  perception  of  the  hcauttful  there  is  an  object  which  I  perceive, 
and  a  meutnl  phenomenon  produced  in  nie  by  the  object.  Tlie  questi'tu 
of  fiicts,  therefore,  ia  itself  twofolil : — \Vhat  are  the  cliaracteristica  of 
the  object  which  malce  iiie  call  it  Iteautiful  ?  and  what  ia  the  nature 
of  the  mental  phenomenon  which  it  produces?  Tlie  explanation  of 
the  facts,  ctinsists  in  knowing  why  such  an  object,  possessing  aucjt— 
characteristics,  produces  such  ft  phenomenon.  ^H 

What  is  it  in  ttie  object  which  makes  me  cidl  it  Ijeautiful  ?  Tlie 
usual  method  adopted  by  French  writers  for  finding  an  answer  to  this 
<iueatjnn  was  to  compare  a  number  of  things  differing  in  as  many 
other  respects  na  possible,  but  all  of  \i-hich  were  beautiful.  If  they 
could  detect  some  one  particular  which  all  agreed  in  possessing,  whil^ 
they  differed  in  everything  else,  this  evidently  was  the  secret  of  their 
V»eauty.  Such  is  what  I  niny  call  the  nietapliysical  method.  JouflVoy 
ilecides  t-o  pursue  another,  vi^.,  the  psychologicah  According  tn 
this,  we  firat  examine  the  phenomena  which  the  beautiful  producea 
in  tiumim  ciinsciouRuess,  then  inquire  why  it  pi-oduces  thein,  aud 
finally,  with  so  mucli  light  already  gained,  try  to  discover  wliat  is  the 
nature  of  the  beautiful  itself.  fll 

Now  place  liefore  yon  some  beautiful  object,  and  observe  the  impres- 
sion which  ensu&s.  You  are  conscious  of  an  emotion  of  pleasure. 
T17  another  object,  and  another:  atill  the  result  is  in  this  re&pect  the 
same.  Hence  you  are  obliged  to  conclude  that  the  beautiful,  wlml- 
ever  it  maybe,  cnntidns  -within  itself  the  nature  or  essence  of  that_ 
which  causes  pleasure. 

Tliis  is  vague  lauguage,  but  it  is  so  because  we  are  taking  nothing 


French  ^Esthetics,  293 

for  granted.  Let  us  see  if  we  can  make  it  more  definite  by  finding 
out  the  cause  of  pleasure.  Well,  then,  consider  two  things  which  are 
in  liie  world,  matter  and  force.  Matter,  inert  and  dead,  is  incapable 
of  feeling— can  in  itself  be  the  subject  neither  of  pleasure  nor  pain, 
Force  is  living,  and  as  force  it  is  that  I  am  conscious  of  myself.  Now 
whatever  opposes  the  development  of  this  force  pains  me ;  whatever 
assists  it  is  a  cause  of  pleasure.  To  have  my  life  frustrated,  marred, 
enfeebled,  threatened  in  any  way, — life  physical,  intellectual,  moral, 
— ^that  is  painful.  To  be  helped,  to  be  given  a  sense  of  fuller  power, 
to  have  Uie  joy  of  living  quickened  and  sustained,  that  ia  alwaya 
pleasant 

Let  us  not  push  this  theory,  however,  too  far.  Are  there  not  objects 
which  give  us  pleasure  without  producing  any  development  or  in- 
creased feeling  of  our  life  or  force  ?  A  rose,  for  instance,  cannot  be 
applied  to  furthering  my  life  in  any  way,  yet  it  is  pleasant  to  look  at. 
A  strange  phenomenon !  I  am  glad  to  see  something  which  ia  perfectly 
useless  to  me.    How  is  this  to  be  explained  ? 

Another  curious  fact  su^ests  itself  The  more  any  object  or  being 
resembles  man  and  partakes  of  his  nature,  the  more  latgely  does  it 
possess  the  gift  of  pleasing  me.  A  human  being  is  capable  of  giving 
me  greater  pleasure  than  a  dog,  a  dog  than  a  flower,  a  flower  than  a 
atone.  But  what  is  our  own  nature  save  force  ?  According,  then,  as 
anything  exhibits  force  I  am  attracted  by  it.  If  I  see  force  trium- 
phant in  it,  I  rejoice ;  if  I  see  it  failing  or  overcome,  I  too  am  depressed 
and  suffer  pain.  Here,  then,  is  a  second  kind  of  pleasure ;  and  as  the 
first,  the  pleasure  derived  from  what  is  useful,  has  its  source  in  egoism, 
this,  derived  from  beings  of  a  nature  similar  to  our  own,  but  wliich 
neither  assist  nor  hinder  our  development,  has  its  source  in  sympathy. 

Now  do  beautiful  things  please  us  by  being  useful,  or  because  they 
exhibit  force  and  life  similar  to  our  own,  and  with  which  we  sympathize, 
freely  developing  themselves  ?  One  word  out  of  much  that  m^ht  be 
said  will  be  sufficient.  Many  beautiful  things  are  not  useful ;  many 
useful  things  are  not  beautiful  But  Jouffroy  here  seizes  on  a  distinc- 
tion between  the  beautiful  and  the  useful  which  is  so  full  of  fine 
si^estion  that  I  cannot  pass  it  by.  If  any  object  affects  us  agreeably, 
the  emotion  of  pleasure  produces,  by  a  necessity  as  strict  as  fate,  an 
emotion  of  love — a  love  by  wliich  we  tend  yearningly  towards  the 
object ;  then  arises  desire.  Although  it  may  be  incapable  of  serving 
us  in  any  way,  we  wish  to  be  near  it,  to  bring  it  close  to  us,  to  imite 
ourselves  with  it.  And  when  we  are  in  possession  of  it  we  are  quickly 
at  a  loss  what  further  to  do.  "  The  rose  which  we  see  pleases  us ;  we 
love  it,  we  desire  to  obtain  it,  and  when  obtained  we  are  embaTrassed 
with  it"  So  fares  it  with  the  beautiful.  On  the  other  hand,  when 
oar  desire  is  produced,  not  in  this  mysterious  manner,  but  by  an 


294  ^'^*  Contemporary  Review. 

object  corresponding  to  some  definite  want  of  our  condition  here 
below,  when  the  object  becomes  ours  there  follows  no  embarra^me^. 
So  \vith  the  usefuL  The  emotion  of  the  beautiful  is  essentially  dis- 
interested. So  distinct  is  it  from  that  which  utility  produces,  that  we 
cannot  fix  our  attention  on  the  utility  a  beautiful  object  may  happen 
to  possess  without  instantly  losing  sight  of  its  beauty.  He  who  sees 
most  beanty  in  the  world  is  usually  least  possessed  by  the  feeling  of 
worldly  wants  and  the  desire  of  satisfying  them.  He  who  has  the 
amplest  sense  of  worldly  wants,  and  gives  himself  up  wholly  to  finding 
means  for  their  satisfaction,  sees  the  useful  everywhere,  and  is  almost 
unacquainted  with  beauty.  The  emotion  of  the  beautiful  is  disinte- 
rested :  hence  its  glory,  and  hence  also  its  danger  and  its  sorrow.  For 
union  with  the  beautiful-^real  possession  of  the  beautiful — ^yeam  we 
never  so  longingly  towards  it,  is  not  attainabla  I  pull  the  rose,  but 
is  it  really  mine  ?  No  more  than  when  it  was  on  the  stem.  Thei^ 
in  my  hand,  the  beautiful  thing  seems  as  far  away  from  me  as  ever, 
and  my  desire  remains  perpetually  unsatisfied.  Hence  in  those  who 
devote  themselves  to  the  pursuit  of  beauty  come  strange  revulsions  of 
feeling, — faintness,  weariness,  despair,  or  that  incurable  melancholy  (rf 
which  the  poet  of  our  own  who,  of  all  others,  was  the  most  passionate 
lover'of  beauty,  and  of  none  other,  wrote  with  so  profound  a  sense  of 
its  truth : — 

"  She  dvells  \rith  Beauty — Beauty  that  moat  die. 

And  Joy,  whose  hand  ia  ever  at  his  lipa, 
Bidding  adieu;  and  aching  Pleasure  nigh, 

Turning  to  poison  while  the  bcc-mouth  sips: 
Ay,  in  the  very  temple  of  Delight 

Veiled  Melancholy  has  her  aoTran  ihrine, 
Though  seen  of  none  buto  him  whose  streQuous  tongue 

Caa  burst  Joy'a  gntpe  against  his  palate  fine ; 
His  soul  shall  taste  the  sadness  of  her  might. 

And  be  among  hor  cloudy  trophies  hung."  * 

From  Keats  let  us  return  to  Jouffroy.  But  now,  having  got  thus 
far,  and  led  us  to  beheve  that  we  have  discovered  the  mysterious 
secret  of  beauty  in  its  expression  of  foree  and  the  resulting  sympathy, 
— having  brought  us  thus  far  in  our  progi-ess  through  the  maze, — 
several  paths  appear,  which  Jouffroy  tells  us  look  promising  (though 
we  have  a  sure  presentiment  all  the  time  of  what  they  lead  to),  and 
up  these  we  are  carried,  and  hack  again  we  return.  I  shall  not  take 
the  reader  into  these  blind  alleys,  but  can  assure  him  that,  ^vith 
Jouffroy  discoursing  by  one's  side,  the  longest  does  not  seem  weari- 

•  The  history  of  this  "  Odo  on  Holancholy  "  is  noteworthy.  Eeats's  first  conception  of 
Melancholy  was  rather  in  the  raw-bead-and-bloody-honea  style.  But  his  daemon  (as 
Croethe  would  say)  did  not  play  him  false,  and  he  was  compelled  to  abandon  hia  original 
design,  and  write  the  exquisite  poem  as  now  it  stands. 


French  Esthetics.  295 

some.  That  the  pleasure  derived  from  the  beautiful  does  not  arise 
from  novelty  or  from  custom  (here  are  two  paths  going  in  opposite 
directions),  or  the  perfection  of  an  object  in  its  kind,  or  the  associa- 
tion of  ideas, — all  these  statements  the  reader  must  refer  to  the  "  Cours 
il'Esth^tique  "  itself  to  establish.  Of  the  theory  which  we  found  M. 
Cousin  adopting,  that  unity  and  variety  are  the  constituents  of  the 
beautiful,  a  few  words  must  here  be  said. 

The  beautiful  pleases  us ;  therefore  the  conditions  of  pleasure  must 
be  conditions  of  the  bcautifid.  Are  unity  and  variety  necessary  con- 
ditions of  pleasure  ?  Does  variety  without  unity  displease  us  ?  That 
is  the  first  question.  If  we  hear  a  number  of  varied  sounds,  for 
inatanoe,  without  discovering  anything  which  connects  them  with  one 
another,  does  not  the  intellect  feel  unsatisfied  ?  Yes ;  it  seeks  some 
cause,  or  meaning,  or  end  by  which  to  group  them  into  one.  We  are 
displeased  by  variety  without  unity. 

And  now  the  second  question.  Are  we  displeased  by  unity  without 
variety  ?  A  single  sound  prolonged  for  ever,  does  this  displease  us  ? 
Yes ;  it  tires  us ;  our  sensibility  suffers.  But  our  intellect  finds  no 
want  here ;  it  is  not  compelled  to  look  for  variety  in  unity  as  it  was 
for  unity  in  variety.  Variety,  then,  satisfies  the  requirements  of  the 
sensibility,  unity  those  of  the  intellect. 

These  are  therefore  conditions  of  the  beautiful — a  diversity  of  phe- 
nomena, and  some  centralizing  idea  around  which  they  are  grouped. 
They  are  the  means  of  making  its  feel  the  beautiful,  but  are  they  the 
elements  which  constitute  it?  No.  There  are  objects  possessing 
variety  and  a  principle  of  unity  which  are  ugly.  There  is  unity  of 
life  with  variety"  of  parts  in  a  hog,  an  ape,  a  frog,  yet  these  are  not 
beautiful.  Unity  and  variety  are,  indeed,  attributes  of  almost  every- 
thing which  we  perceive,  and  if  these  constituted  beauty  it  would  be 
difficult  to  find  anything  ugly  in  the  world. 

Another  common  theory,  rightly  interpreted,  brings  us  back  to  the 
centre  of  Jouffroy's  system.  According  to  several  thinkers  (amongst 
them  Aristotle*  and  Augustine),  the  constituents  of  beauty  are  order 
and  proportion.  What  do  these  words  mean  ?  Order  is  an  arrange- 
ment of  parts :  proportion,  certain  relations  of  those  parts  in  extension 
or  duration  ;  but  what  kind  of  arrangement,  what  ki7id  of  relations  ? 
Rejecting  the  doctrine  that  there  is  a  type  of  each  species  of  things  by 
which  we  judge  of  the  degree  of  order  and  proportion  each  individual 
possesses,  Jouffroy  concludes  that  this  degree  is  determined  by  the 
suitability  of  means  to  an  end  :  whatever  arrangement  of  parts 
enables  a  thing  best  to  fulfil  its  end  being  the  arrangement  according 
to  order.     And  now,  understanding  the  terms,  is  the  theory  true  that 

*  In  one  passage  Ariitotle  names  greatness  as  a  conatituent  of  beauty,  t6  yip  ca\&v  iv 
pi7i9(t  Kai  rd^ii  lari, — PmUc,  chap.  rii. 


296 


The  Cotitcmporary  Review. 


these  two  elements  constitute  beauty  ?  To  answer  this,  we  rtiproduce 
the  hog, — au  invaluable  companion  on  mi  resthetiwil  tour,  aud  the 
beat  of  protectors  against  tlie  pkilosopliet*.  Nothing  is  mopu  happily 
adapted  for  accomplishing  its  eartlily  destiny.  His  waots  ai'e  liuiuble ; 
he  does  not  require  high  intellectual  powers  or  delicate  sensibilities  to 
fulfil  Ids  lot ;  he  is  not  swift  to  pursue  or  strong  to  ovei-cotne,  but  then 
he  di>es  not  need  great  strength  or  swiftness;  all  his  worldly  desires 
are  gratified  Ity  ];^ilibing8  in  a  pde  of  refuse.  Yet  he  is  not  a  gracefid 
creature.  Wt;  have  even  athiiitteil,  aa  a  private  opinion,  that  he  is 
ugly.  He  does  not  in  his  unroast  appearance,  or  apart  frcim  the 
association  of  "  crackling/  excite  an  emotion  of  pleasure  and  the  con- 
sequent yeaniiiig  luve.  We  do  not  desire  to  unite  ourselves  with  liim. 
The  mass  of  hifi  body,  aud  es^X-'uially  that  of  the  representative  pig  of 
public  shows,  seema  to  weigh  down  the  force  which  animates  hiin ; 
his  niovenienta  are  he-a\y,  his  intelligence  didl,  his  affections  not 
highly  developed,  matter  is  clearly  preiioiiderant  in  liiin.  ( irder  uud 
propoitiouj  undCTstooJ  as  suitability  of  jiieana  to  the  actual  ends  of 
things,  assuredly  do  not  constitute  beiiuty. 

But  is  there  no  other  end  towards  wliich  things  tend  save  the 
actual — no  end  save  that  of  fultilling  aome  assigned  part  in  the  great 
economy  of  nature?  Yes;  wherever  force  exists  it  tends  towards  its 
own  perfect  evolution  and  develupmeiit.  It  is  never  coutent ;  it 
acknowledges  no  limit ;  it  ia  careless  of  preserving  the  eliartietcr- 
istics  of  any  natural  species.  This  is  the  absolute  end  of  eveiy 
crejiture — its  own  liighest  development.  The  uiJer  aud  prupurtion 
which  enable  it  to  piu-sue  this  end  are  absolute,  are  perfect,  and  of 
tliem  is  beauty  constituted. 

Concerning  force  it  is  that  all  things  in  the  universe,  some  only  just 
articulately,  some  in  the  eloquence  of  golden  words,  in  the  md^jdy  Q^^| 
perfect  soug,  are  communing  with  us.    I'roni  the  sun  which  strengthens^* 
the  angels  by  Ids  light,  from  thu  stai-s  which  joove  nightly  through 
the  heavens  like  an  acmy  u'ith  banners,  to  tlie  fincs^t  needle  of  mos^^H 
nay.  to  the  least  dro[)  of  dew  that  lies  within  the  moss's  fair)'  cups,  alf^" 
things  are  telling  r.f  unseen  energies  and  life.     The  least  .spiritual- 
minded  of  men  in  every  moment  of  every  day  acknowKaiges  the 
presence  around  him  of  invisible  powers.     We  are  creature?  "moving 
about  in  wci-lds  not  realized,"     This  is  a  sim[>le  statement  cif  fact. 
We  look  aruund  and  think  we  see  uuilLer  everywhere.    !Nut  at  all 
we  only  hcUeve  in  matter,- — it  is  bodies  that  we  see,  every  ciuatity 
which  is  an  expression  of  force.    Extension,  what  is  that  but  an 
gation  of  atoms  widch  tells  us  that  Ibrce  is  there  at  work  ?     .Suli(.lity, 
but  the  deelaratiun  of  the  tendency  of  that  forca  as  concentrative, 
binding  the  particles  of  matter  close  to  one  anotlier  ?    Form,  but  the 
explanation  of  the  precise  way  in  which  the  force  is  acting  ?     Colour, 


French  yEstketics.  297 

taste,  odour,  not  one  of  them  belong  to  matter ;  they  are  qualities  of 
bodies,  and  owe  their  existence  to  force.  In  fact,  to  use  Jonffro/a 
striking  illustration,  "  the  qualities  of  bodies  are  no  more  the  qualities 
of  matter  than  the  characters  printed  on  paper  are  qualities  of  the 
paper,  though  at  the  same  time  there  coxild  no  more  be  bodies  without 
matter,  than  printed  characters  without  paper."  Force  then  is  what  I 
have  already  spoken  of  as  "the  invisible,"  and  the  object  of  art  is,  by 
means  of  the  qualities  of  bodies,  to  express  this  force  in  order  and 
proportion,  that  is,  tending  by  appropriate  means  to  its  absolute  end* 
Now  observe  an  important  distinction.  It  is  not  in  the  ^vay  of 
allegory  that  nature  speaks  to  us  of  force ;  and  art,  if  it  would  produce 
jBSthetical  emotion,  must  likewise  employ  not  allegorical  symbols  but 
natural  signs.  The  former  are  a  language  wliich  represents  things  for 
the  understanding,  but  which  does  not  address  itself  to  the  feelings. 
A  woman  holding  scales  is  Justice :  I  understand  that  perfectly ;  and 
since  the  figure  possesses  some  artistic  merits,  I  receive  a  certain 
degree  of  pleasure.  But  let  the  face  of  Justice  grow  so  full  of  grave 
and  sweet  determination  that  I  can  read  her  character  inthout  the 
symbolic  scales,  and  forthwith  it  becomes  a  true  work  of  art. 

To  the  invisible  alone  belongs  Ijeauty  in  tlie  proper  sense  of  the 
word,  but  the  invisible  can  affect  us  resthetically  only  in  one  way — 
tirough  ita  naturd  signs.     I  am  conscious  in  myself  immediately  of 
force,  but  this  does  not  become  a  source  of  aesthetical  emotion  to  me 
Tuitil  I  can  look  at  myself  as  if  I  were  another  person :  if  I  am  ridi- 
culous, I  do  not  smile  till  I  have  become  estranged  from  my  ridiculous 
self,  till  I  have  projected  it,  so  to  speak,  outwards  in  imagination,  when, 
seeing  my  own  personality  not  directly,  but  through  the  medium  of 
natural  signs,  the  interested  emotion  gives  place  to  one  sympathetic  or 
aesthetical.     In  like  manner,  no  philosophical  descriptions  of  the  pas- 
sions— of  love,  for  instance,  or  jealoiisy,  or  hate,  or  fear — can  succeed 
in.  touching  ray  sensibility ;  but  let  me  see  before  me  Tiomeo,  Othello, 
Sliylock,  and  my  heart  is  quickly  a-glow  with  sympathy  or  indigna- 
tion.   Hence  we  may  perceive  the  mistake  of  tliose  artists  who  aun  at 
tTuth  instead  of  reality.     It  is  not  with  truth  but  realized  truth  tliat 
art  is  concerned.      The   dramatist,   for  example,   wliose   characters 
describe  their  feeUngs  instead  of  expressing  them  as  they  naturally 
find  expression,  has  forgotten  the  conditions  of  art.     This  is  Racine's 
manner,  and  the  manner  of  our  own  novelist  Eichardson.     "I  wail,  I 
wail,"  cry  the  earth-spirits  in  Mrs.  Browning's  early  poem,  "  A  Drama 
of  Exile,"  and  Eve  responds  pathetically,  "  I  wail."     How  frigid  that 
is!    "And  yet  the  pity  of  it,  lago!     0,  lago,  the  pity  of  it,  I^o!" 
How  full  of  terrible  pathos  is  that!  more  pathos,  I  think,  tlian  if 

•  It  need  hardlj-  be  said,  not  vital  force  alone,  but  force  of  intellect^  emotionSj^  fc^n. 
«ienc«,  will,  also. 


f 


VOL.  1. 


298  The  Contemporary  Review. 

Othello  declared  that  he  wailed,  even  ten  or  eleven  times.  But  Mrs. 
Browning  of  the  "  Drama  of  Exile  "  was  a  very  different  artist  from 
the  great  poet  who  wrote  "Aurora  Leigh."* 

We  have  here  come  almost  unaware  upon  the  gecrets  of  the  schools 
of  Bealism  and  Idealism  in  literature  and  art.  The  invisible  is  the 
source  of  beauty, — there  is  the  starting-point  of  idealism ;  the  invisible 
must  be  expressed  by  natural  signs, — there  is  the  first  principle  of 
realism.  It  is  some  passion — love,  let  us  suppose — which  the  idealist 
aims  at  bringing  to  light ;  clearness  of  expression  is  above  all  things 
what  he  desires,  and  body,  as  he  finds  it  in  actual  natm«,  seems  rather 
to  conceal  than  to  reveal  the  soul  within.  He  sees  also  that  with  all 
its  special  varieties,  the  passion  of  love  has  great  typical  character- 
istics which  never  vary,  and  which  constitute  its  essential  nature : 
these,  omitting  all  detaCs  which  may  obscure  them,  he  will  endeavour 
to  seize ;  and  in  representing  them,  he  ■H'ill  simjilify  as  much  as  possible 
the  natural  signs.     Surely  a  reasonable  procedure  enough. 

The  realist,  on  the  other  hand,  knows  that  the  passion  of  love  must 
l)e  represented  in  an  individual  lover.  But  tlie  lover  must  be  male  or 
female :  and  further,  of  a  certain  age,  and  of  a  certain  rank  in  society, 
and  of  a  certain  century,  and  of  a  certain  nation,  and  of  a  certain 
religion,  and  of  a  certain  character,  and  of  a  certain  appearance,  and 
of  a  certain  surrounding;  and  so  on,  tiU,  as  he  will  tell  you,  a  living 
person  stands  before  you,  and  no  shadowj'  abstraction  or  generalization. 
It  is  not  clearness,  but  vagueness  of  expression  which  results  from  omit- 
ting these  circumstances.  It  is  not  the  act  of  a  great  mind,  but  of  a 
"  vulgar,  incapable,  and  unthinking"  mind,  to  see  in  all  Imman  beings 
only  similar  bundles  of  tendencies  and  habits :  we  must  separate  "  to 
obtain  a  more  perfect  unity."f     Surely  tliere  is  reason  also  in  this. 

Yes,  there  is  reason  both  on  the  idealist's  and  the  realist's  side,  but 
to  the  procedure  of  each  there  is  a  limit.  When  the  idealist  describes 
the  invisible  apart  from  its  natural  signs  he  falls  into  the  false  ideal, 
and  becomes  frigid  and  metaphysical.  When  the  realist  crowds  his 
description  with  insignificant  details,  or  when,  in  place  of  giving  us  the 
natural  signs  of  emotion,  he  gives  the  conventional  signs  proper  to  some 
other  age  or  country,  which  we  hardly  understand,  and  do  not  at  all 
sympathize  with,  his  realism,  which  should  be  called  literalism,  is  false 
realism, — he  has  forgotten  the  conditions  of  art.  But  no  artist  who 
works  with  a  spirit  full  of  earnest  feeling  can  ever  be  a  mere  literalist, 
for  all  earnest  feeling  idealizes  more  or  less,  making  prominent  accord- 
ing to  its  special  character  the  sadness,  the  Ijeauty,  the  love,  the 

•  JouflVoy'B  definition  of  beauty — "  That  with  which  mt;  synijinthize  in  human  nature, 
rxprt'sseJ  by  iinttirril  symbols  ivhicli  strike  the  ntsps."  Hia  definition  of  art — "Tha 
esiiression  of  the  invisible  by  the  natural  signs  whiih  mnnifeijt  it." 

t  Ruskin,  "  Modem  Painters,"  i.,  IVeface,  2iid  Kdit.,  p.  33. 


French  Esthetics.  299 

joyoxisness  of  all  that  comes  before  it,  or.  if  the  power  of  feeling  he 
universal,  each  of  these  ia  turn.  In  Mr.  Hunt's  picture  of  "  Christ  in 
the  Temple,"  it  is  not  the  faithful  i-eproduction  of  the  doctors'  dresses 
which  gives  it  its  high  lesthetical  value :  these  have  little  signilicauce 
for  the  mind's  eye,  and  might  be  read  of  in  a  book  of  antiquities.  But 
the  ignorance,  the  arrogance,  the  meanness,  the  sensuality  of  the  men's 
feces  ;  the  unconscious,  trance-like  fruition  of  Mary  ;  the  tender 
rapture  of  her  satisfied  motherly  desire,  and  the  Divine  Immauity  of 
Jesua, — in  these  the  artist  appears,  precisely  where  the  antiquarian 
could  render  no  assistance.  These  tell  us  what  ilr.  Hunt  thought 
and  felt  about  that  circumstance  in  the  Temple,  and  because  he 
thought  well,  and  felt  delicately  and  profoundly,  his  picture  is  great. 
The  antiquariauism  is  valuable  too ;  but  it  were  a  serious  misfortune 
for  the  world  if  an  artist,  possessed  of  any  affluence  of  thought  and 
feeling,  should  spend  his  years  in  erudite  researches  about  the  embroi- 
dery and  fringes  of  Jewish  robes.  If  Raphael  had  painted  one  picture 
in  five  years  he  would  have  left  us  four  very  perfect  works,  but  how 
Uttle  in  them  could  he  have  told  us  of  all  the  visions  of  beauty  and 
tenderness  and  grace  which  possessed  his  brain — how  httle  of  what 
no  other  man  in  all  the  centuries  could  have  told  us  save  Eaphael 
himself !     Happily  antiquarians  are  not  so  rare.* 

I  have  wandered  somewhat  away  from  Jouffroy,  and  have  now  no 
great  cause  to  return.     The  leading  ideas  of  the  "  (Jours  d'Esthetique  " 
are  contained  in  what  has  been  written,  and   though  they  i-eceive 
many  further  developments,  the  vital  principles  of  the  system — force, 
sympathy,  order — are  still  the  centralizing  points.     Jouffroy's  dis- 
tinction between  the  agreeable  and  the  beautiful,  and  his  analysis  of 
tlie  sublime,  wliich  occupy  some  of  the  later  lectures,  are  of  less 
interest  than  the  preceding  portion  of  the  book,  and  seem  to  me  not 
quite  so  satisfactory.     But  to  the  end,  even  after  his  system  has  been 
elaborated  piece  by  piece  till  it  is  almost  complete,  Jouffro}'  retains 
in  a  remarkable  degree  his  sincerity  of  investigation.     His  obser\'a- 
tions  have  a  purity,  and  his  analyses  a  richness  of  result,  which  one 
leams  to  set  down  at  their  right  value  when  one  has  seen  many  an 
excellent  writer,  under  the  increasing  tyranny  of  his  own  theory,  grow 
more  and  more  incapable  of  approaching  any  subject  in  tlie  critical 
spirit,  more  and  more  insensible  to  the  fulness  of  meaning  which 
things  possess. 

*  "Alas !"  exclaims  M.  MUsand,  in  writing  of  Mr.  Himfs  painting  {Rervr.  det  Ikux 
^mA«,  Aug.  15,  1861),  "it  is  hard  to  satisfy  every  one.  After  having  examined  Ihe 
piiatiiig,  a  Jewish  lady  [who  went  to  sec  it  when  exhibiting  in  T.ondon]  said  gravely, 
'  U  ii  very  beautiful,  oaly  it  ia  clear  the  artist  did  not  know  the  disiinctivu  mark  of  the 
•We  of  Judah :  he  has  given  the  doctors  flat  feet,  which  belong  to  tlio  tribe  of  Reuben, 
while  the  men  of  Judah  have  the  instep  highly  arched.' "  WTio  can  think  much  of  a  pic- 
'on  Tith  so  dcploiablc  a  departorc  from  truth  in  it  as  this ! 


300  The  Contemporary  Review. 

IV. 

Since  Jouffroy's    "  Lectures,"   nothiiis    of    iiiiich    importance    in 
aesthetics  appeared  l»t-tbre  51.  Charles  Lt'vwixie's  tre-.itise,  "  Ia  Science 
du  Beau."    Two  years  prior  to  the  imlilication  of  tlie  "  Cours  d'Esth^ 
tique,"  but  several  years  after  the  deliver}'  of  the  lecture?,  lamermaia 
brought  out  some  volumes  of  a  work  entitled,  "  Esqiiisse  d'une  Philo- 
so])hie,"  which  contained  chajiters  of  tlie  hijrhest  merit  on  Art  and 
IJeauty.     Tliese  were  last  year  pnbUshed  in  a  detached  form,  and  may 
be  read  without  any  feclinj,'  of  their  fragnientarv'  character.     Let  the 
reader,  however,  exjiect  from  Lamennaw  no  luminous  theory  of  the 
beautiful ;  the  most  admirable  thinj;  about  the  theoretical  part  of  the 
volume  is  its  sJiortness  :  it  is  altogether  transcendental  and  uninteUi- 
gible,  a   kind  of  mystical  t'hristianized   Platonism,    in   which    the 
Infinite   Beauty,   and    its    manifestation,   the   Word,   are    recurring 
phrases.     !Nor  is  the  general  theor}-  of  art  much  more  satisfactory: 
creation  also  is  the  manifestation  of  the  Infinite  Pteauty;  art  is  the 
reprotluction  of  creation,  an<l   the  order  of  its  development  is  the 
same  as  tliat  of  the  six  days'  works,  beginning  with  the  arrangement 
of  inorganic  matter  in  architecture,  and  finally  ero\\Tied  by  the  voice 
of  man  going  uj)  to  God  in  song.     It  is  not  such  spectdations  as  these 
wliich  give  the  Iwok  its  value,  but  the  interpretations,  fidl  of  insight 
which  it  contains,  of  the  meaning  of  the  several  hi.storical  periods  of 
the  various  arts.     The  sketches  are  slight,  but  they  are  from  the  hand 
of  a  master,  who  seizes  the  essential  characteristics  of  things  by  a  rare 
power  of  vision.     "  iEeyer,"  said  (Joethe,  laugliing,  "  always  says,  'If 
thinking  were  not  so  hard  !'     And  the  worst  is,  that  all  the  thinking 
in  the  world  does  not  bring  us  to  thought ;  we  must  l)e  right  by 
nature,  so  that  good  thoughts  may  come  before  us  like  free  children  of 
God,  and  cry, '  Here  we  are !' "     It  is  in  this  way,  "  hke  free  children 
of  God,"  that  good  thoughts  come  to  I^mennais :  when  he  tells  us 
what  he  sees,  we  trust  the  penetrating  intuitions  of  genius, — we  obtain 
always  one  important  view  at  least  of  the  truth  :  when  he  goes  aboat 
to  prove  something,  we  cannot  follow  him ;  his  logic  is  neither  "  the 
incomi)Iete  logic  of  good  sense,"  nor  the  unfigured  syllogisms  of  the 
emotions,  but  of  a  kind  i-equiring  an  amount  of  pure  reason  wliich  we 
empirical  English  have  never  had  the  good  fortune  t-o  possess. 

In  lS(i2  was  published  in  two  vohmies,  containing  about  a  thousand, 
pagas,  "La  Science  du  Beau,"  by  M.  Charles  Ldv(!'que.  The  Academy 
of  Moral  and  Political  Sciences  had  proposed,  a  few  years  before,  this 
subject  for  competition,  and  of  five  essays  M.  L*5v('que's  was  that  which 
obtained  the  Academy's  crown.  "  La  Science  du  1  >cau  "  is  an  enlarged, 
and  in  some  material  respects  an  altered  copy  of  this  essay.  Its 
author  came  to  the  subject  with  the  natural  aptitude  derived  from  a 


French  ^Esthetics.  301 

passionate  love  of  beauty  and  fine  reflective  powers,  and  with  special 
culture  obtained  in  the  French  school,  founded  in  1847  at  Athens,  of 
which  he  was  one  of  the  first  members. 

Perhaps  the  most  remarkable  feature  of  the  work  is  the  complete- 
ness of  its  desijpi ;  in  this  respect  it  is  withont  a  rival  in  French  or 
English  philosophical  literature,  the  lionour  of  wliicli  is  due  to  the 
members  of  the  Aciideiiiy,  who,  in  proposing  the  subject,  traced  briefly 
the  line  of  investigation  which  should  be  pursued.  The  two  (luestions 
which  occupy  the  greater  part  of  the  "  Cours  d'Esthetique  "  arc  here 
first  discussed — What  are  tlie  effects  of  tlie  beautii'ul  iu  human  con- 
sciousness ?  and  Wluit  the  nature  of  the  IjeautifiU  in  itself? — the 
psychological  and  the  nietiiphysiciil  qucitioiis.  And  in  the  former  of 
these  M.  Levcque  has  the  merit  of  bi-eaking  almost  entirely  new 
ground,  when  he  investigates  not  only  the  phenomena  ]n'oduced  by 
beauty  on  the  intellect  and  emotions,  tjut  on  the  aciivUies  of  man. 
Having  arrived  at  the  principles  of  the  science,  the  author  ne.xt  pro- 
ceeds to  confirm  and  illustrate  them  by  a  study  of  beiUity  as  it 
appears  in  man,  in  natiure,  and  iu  God.  Fiu-ther  confirmations  and 
illustrations  are  then  sought  in  each  of  the  fine  arts.  And,  finally, 
the  science  of  the  beautifid  is  treated  historically,  in  a  series  of 
chapters  on  the  chief  uisthetical  theories  of  ancient  and  modern  philo- 
sophy,— those  of  Plato,  Aristotle,  Plotinus,  Augustine,  Ilutcheson,  the 
Father  Andre,  IJaumgai-ten,  Iteid,  Kaut,  Schellinj^,  and  Hegel.  This 
is  a  great  design,  and  M.  LevOque  has  shown  much  abilitj-  and  culture 
iu  his  attempt  to  fill  it  in. 

And  yet  the  book  is  very  unsatisfactory.  In  the  essay  as  at  first 
written,  the  metaphysical  question  was  tresiteil  before  tlie  psycho- 
logical, and  thougli  the  order  is  now  reversed,  and  the  earlier  part  of 
the  work  entirely  recast,  the  original  faidt  of  metliod  and  its  results 
cling  to  it  still.  Wherever  M.  Levcque  is  free  from  the  pressure  of 
his  theor}',  his  psychology,  as  Emile  Saisset  remarked,  is  natmal  and 
sincere  i  but  too  often  wliat  luis  been  said  of  the  jmrity  of  Joufi'roy's 
observation,  and  the  fulness  of  result  iu  his  analyses,  must  be 
reversed  to  become  applicable  to  M.  Leveque,  and  chiefly  because 
he  approaches  the  psychological  facts  with  a  predetermiueil  theory, 
to  which  they  must  be  accommodated. 

In  this  theory  of  At.  Leveque's  there  is  no  advance  on  Joufl'roy's, 
and  in  many  respects  it  is  less  capable  of  defence.  The  author  invites 
us  to  analyse  the  beauty  of  a  lily  with  him,  and  satisfies  himself  that 
it  is  constituted  of  precisely  eight  elements,  among  them  "  the  normal 
liveliness  of  colour,"  wliich  is  found  (so  terrible  a  master  is  one's  own 
theory)  not  only  iu  the  lily,  but  in  a  symphony  of  Beethoven,  the  life 
of  Socrates,  and  the  love  of  a  child, — though  what  the  exact  colour  of 
each  of  these  may  be,  whether  scarlet,  or  green,  or  yellow,  M.  Leveque 


302  The  Contemporary  Review. 

does  not  inform  us.  The  blind  man  in  Locke,  who  supposed  red  was 
like  the  sound  of  a  trumpet,  would  probably  be  his  best  adviser  on 
these  questions. 

Heine  amusiugly  illustrates  the  effect  of  the  empirical  tendency  of 
our  national  thouglit  by  the  story  of  an  English  mechanician,  who,  1^ 
an  ingenious  application  of  skill,  succeeded  in  constructing  a  man: — 

*'  The  product  of  his  handa  could  work  and  act  like  a  man  ;  it  bore  in  ita 
leathern  bosom  a  kind  of  apparatus  of  human  emotion,  which  did  not  mate- 
rially differ  from  the  habitual  emotions  of  the  Englisli ;  it  could  communicate 
its  feelings  in  articulate  sounds,  and  the  internal  noise  of  wheel-works, 
springs,  and  escapements,  produced  a  genuine  English  pronunciation.  In 
fme,  this  automaton  was  an  accomplished  gentleman,  and  to  make  him  alto- 
gathei-  a  man,  notliiug  was  wanting  except  a  soul ;  but  this  soul  hia  English 
creator  was  unable  to  give  him,  and  the  poor  creature,  come  to  a  knowledge 
of  his  imperfection,  tormented  liis  creator  night  and  day,  begging  him  to  give 
him  a  souL" 

In  reading  M.  L(5vC'que's  books  we  feel  lamentably  this  our  defi- 
ciency. The  cliaracteristics  of  beauty  in  each  object  (which  are 
ultimately  reduced  to  greatness  and  order  in  power  and  the  expres- 
sion of  power)  are  determined  in  the  easiest  way,  by  the  author  of 
"  La  Science  du  Beau,"  through  d  prwri  conceptions  of  the  pure 
reason, — which  when  we  look  for  in  our  provincial  consciousness, 
alas  !  we  have  no  soul.  Tlius,  a  lily,  to  be  beautiful,  must  be  of  a 
certain  size  and  colour,  corresponding  to  those  of  an  ideal  or  typical 
lily,  wliich  iL  Leveque,  on  seeing  half  a  dozen  common  lilies,  imme- 
diately perceives  emerging,  with  extraordinary  rapidity  of  growth,  in 
the  depth  of  his  consciousness.  Voild  le  lis  !  In  fact,  he  carries 
about  in  his  pure  reason  quite  an  herbarium  and  Noah's  ark  of  such 
tj-pes.  The  ide;d  lily  is,  of  course,  of  a  dazzling  whiteness.  Emile 
Saisset  was  curious  to  know  what  is  the  colour  of  the  ideal  tulip. 

This  theory  of  tyx>es,  if  it  remained  oidy  a  theory  for  philosophers, 
might  lie  l»niiie  with  as  containing  a  genn  of  truth,  and  representing 
(though  not  in  the  happiest  way)  a  decided  tendency  of  the  humaa 
mind.  Uut  whiui  it  is  made  the  foundation  principle  of  art  and  art- 
criticism  it  beco;'ies  a  serious  evil.  If  the  artist  is  not  to  record  faith- 
fully liis  impressions  of  things,  but  endeavour  to  exhibit  their  ideal 
types,  Iiis  work  quickly  loses  its  sincerity,  and  grows  frigid  and  aca- 
demical. If  he  believes  that  he  is  presented  with  a  typical  man  by 
liis  pure  reason  as  soon  as  he  has  seen  half  a  dozen  hmuan  beings 
(which  no  artist  was  ever  so  theory-ridden  as  to  believe),  his  figure- 
drawing  will,  it  is  to  be  feared,  he  of  the  same  ideal  description  as  the 
portraits  of  Uncle  George  and  Aunt  Jane  wliich  young  gentlemen  of 
five  or  six  rapidly  sketch  from  memory  for  their  admiring  parents. 
Of  course,  there  is  a  common  natiure  which  aU  individuals  of  the  same 
species  possess ;  of  course  it  is  a  portion  of  the  artist's  duty  to  inter- 
pret and  express  this  common  nature ;  but  it  is  no  less  a  truism  that 


French  j^sOietics.  303 

the  universal  can  be  expressed  by  art  only  through  the  individual, 
and  that  these  general  characteristics  are  insufficient  to  make  up  a 
real  living  being.  "  You  now  stand,"  said  one  of  the  greatest  of 
critics,  Goethe,  "at  that  point  where  you  must  necessarily  break 
through  to  the  really  high  and  difficult  part  of  art — the  apprehension 
of  what  is  individual.  You  must  do  some  degree  of  violence  to  your- 
self to  get  out  of  the  Idea."*  There  is  nothing  high  or  difficult  in 
apprehending  witli  the  understanding  the  general  character  of  a 
mountain,  or  a  tree,  or  a  man.  There  Ls  nothing  higli  or  difficult  in 
noting  down  certain  peculiarities  in  an  individual,  such  as  those 
which  Mr.  Diekens  attaches  to  some  of  his  dramatis  personce  to  dis- 
tinguish them  from  one  another,  and  make  readers  laugh  who  can 
bear  the  same  joke  several  scores  of  times.  These  trifles  are  in  truth 
the  most  unessential  parts  even  of  the  individual.  Mr.  Jerry 
Cruncher's  frequent  use  of  the  word  "flop"  no  more  helps  to  indivi- 
dualize him  than  if  we  were  told  very  often  that  he  had  a  wart  on 
the  first  fuiger  of  his  right  hand.  IJiit  to  represent  the  individual  as 
indeed  he  is,  remembering  that  the  elements  of  character  wliich  he 
possesses  in  common  with  his  species  and  liis  class  are  the  main  con- 
stituents of  his  personality,  and  would  be  so  if  the  species  and  class 
had  never  existed,  remembering  too  that  these  common  elements  in 
themselves  can  make  up  no  more  than  a  shado^vy  abstraction,  this,  as 
Goethe  saitl,  is  the  high,  the  difficult  i>art  of  art. 

Passing  over  an  admirable  series  of  chapters,  in  whicli  much  of  M. 
Levequo's  sincere  and  natural  psychology  appears,  entitled  "  Du  Joli 
ou  du  Charmaut,"  "  Uu  Sublime,"  "  Du  Laid  et  du  Hidicule,"+  let  us 
see  how  he  explains  wliat  may  strike  some  one  as  an  objection  to  the 
principle  that  expression  is  the  law  of  art.  Architecture,  it  may  be 
said,  has  surely  another  end  tlian  expression ;  its  first,  its  chief  object  is 
a  useful,  not  an  iesthetical  one ;  its  primary  law  must  be  that  each  build- 
ing be  adapted  to  the  practical  purpose  for  which  it  is  constructed. 
And  this  certainly  is  true  of  building ;  but  a  Httle  consideration  will 
satisfy  us  that  architecture  is  no  exception  to  the  great  law  of  art. 

What,  then,  does  arcliitecture  express  ?  In  the  first  place,  the 
powers  of  inorganic  matter,  and  tliese  in  unity,  variety,  harmony, 
order,  proportion.  AVe  can  hardly  find  a  more  meaningless  erection 
than  an  obelisk  ;  yet  is  an  obelisk  devoid  of  expression  ?  Imagine  it 
reversed,  and  fastened  point  downwards  in  the  ground.  Though  the 
stone  is  the  same,  do  you  not  feel  that  the  meaning  has  been  altered, 
and  so  much  altered  for  the  worse,  that  the  monolith  is  no  longer 
agreeable  to  look  at  ?     Secondly,  forms  are  the  means  of  expressing 

•  *'  Conversations  with  Ecltermonn,"  vol.  i.,  p.  82. 

t  Briefly:  "the  pretty"  ia  force  or  powcrin  order,  but  without  greatness;  the  sublime, 
iti  opposite,  force  inJcfioitcty  grvnt,  but  in  which  order  (though  a£Brmed  by  the  reason) 
is  not  perceptible  to  the  seiu«s  or  imnginatiun ;  "the  ugly"  is  force  in  great  djjorder]; 
"the  riditukms"  is  force,  grwt  ov  lit:!,',  rV',jhthj  in  discrd-r. 


304  The  Contemporary  Review. 

force,  not  only  physical,  but  spiritual.  An  arabesque  tracery,  for 
instance,  may  be  imitative  of  nothing,  yet  by  the  mere  design  full  of 
exquisitely  fanciful  expression.  Thirdly,  as  Mr.  Ruskin,  with  refer- 
ence to  Gothic  architecture,  has  so  amply  taught  us,  the  buihling  is 
an  expression  of  tendencies  in  the  builder's  mind,  and  of  dominant 
thouglits  and  feelings  of  the  contemporary  society.  If  the  mytho- 
logies were  all  lost,  we  might  still  guess  the  great  features  of  the 
religions  of  the  world  from  the  expression  of  their  religious  architec- 
ture. We  could  discover  the  pantheism  of  India  "  combined  with  a 
pi-ofound  feeling  of  the  energies  of  nature,"  the  presiding  sense  of 
tleath  in  Egypt,  the  perfected  anthropomorphism  of  Oreece.*  But, 
liesides  all  these  modes  of  architectural  expression,  every  building,  as 
M.  L^viique  finely  obseiTes,  has  an  occupant,  and  in  its  aspect  we 
read  something  of  his  character  and  doings : — "  A  beautiful  temple 
informs  us,  without  inscriptions  and  without  emblems,  that  it  is  the 
abode  of  a  god ;  a  beautil'ul  palace,  that  it  is  the  dwelling  of  a  power- 
ful and  royal  soul ;  a  beautiful  cluiteau,  that  it  is  the  residence  of  souls 
proud  of  their  race ;  a  simple  and  charming  villa,  that  it  is  the  retreat 
of  souls  happy  in  their  mediocrity ;  a  theatre,  that  it  expects  to  receive 
upon  its  vast  tiers  of  benches  a  multitude  of  souls  eager  for  sights  and 
shows;  a  cloister  speaks  to  us  of  souls  disenchanted,  solitary,  up- 
gathered  in  prayer  and  study ;  a  bridge  tells  us  that  it  is  there  foi 
man  in  his  activity,  that  be  may  rapidly  clear  the  river,  an  obstacle 
in  his  way;  a  tomb,  low,  narrow,  without  opening,  without  air,  with- 
out light,  proclaims  by  its  silence  and  its  immobility  that  the  body 
lies  there,  but  that  the  soul  is  fled."  It  is  precisely  in  so  iar  us  it  is 
expressive  in  these  several  ways  tluit  arcbitectuie  is  an  art;  precisely 
where  it  ceases  to  be  expressive  it  ceases  to  affect  us  iestheticiilly,  and 
had  better  Ije  spoken  of  as  budding. 

M.  Leveque  may  be  taken  as  the  cliief  exponent  amongst  recent 
writers  of  the  Ecsthetical  tendencies  of  the  intellectualist  school.  M. 
Taine,  in  his  two  lectures  entitled  "Philosoplne  de  I'Art,"  represents 
suiiicicntly  well  the  tendencies  of  Positivism.  Tliesc  lectures,  intro- 
ductory to  a  series  on  the  history  of  painting  in  Italy,  treat  of  the 
nature  and  production  of  works  of  art.  M.  Taine  always  writes  in  a 
vigorous  and  thought-inspiring  way :  in  so  far  as  it  is  positive  in  th€ 
common  acceptation  of  the  word,  this  "  Philosophie  de  I'Art"  is  full 
of  instruction  and  valuable  suggestion ;  in  so  far  as  it  is  positive  iu 
the  peculiar  sense  which  means  negative,  in  so  far  as  it  denies  tlie  value 
of  any  sesthetic  but  one  derived  from  the  study  of  the  history  of  fine 
arts,  it  is  thoroughly  unsound  and  misleading.     We  shall  try  to  see  this 

"The  modem  method,"  writes  M.  Taine,  "which  I  endeavour  tt 
follow,  and  which  is  beginning  to  be  introduced  into  all  the  mora] 
sciences,  consists  in  considering  human  works — and  in  particular. 

*  See  Lamcniuua'fl  chapter  on  Architecture. 


French  yEstfutics.  305 

works  of  art — as  facts  and  products  of  which  we  must  note  the  charac- 
teristics, and  look  for  the  causes ;  nothing  more."  And  elsewhere : — 
"  It  is  a  sort  of  botany,  applied  not  to  plants,  but  to  the  works  of  men.'' 
The  intention  is  excellent,  but  unfortunately  the  positive  method 
alone  is  incapable  of  making  us  underataud  the  nature  of  a  single 
work  of  art,  it  is  incapable  of  getting  at  tlie  facts ;  and  then,  secondly, 
it  ia  equally  incapable  of  giving  any  satisfactory  account  of  their 
origin. 

At  what  result  does  M.  Taine  himself  arrive  by  this  external,  his- 
torical, positive  method  1     "  The  end  of  the  work  of  art,"  he  writes, 
"  is  to  manifest  some  essential  or  salient  characteristic,  consequently 
some  important  idea,  more  clearly  and  more  completely  than   real 
objects  do.    It  attains  this  end  by  employing  an  e^isemble  of  connected 
.parts,  the  relations  of  which  it  systematically  modifies.     In  the  three 
arts  of  imitation,  sculpture,  painting,  and  poetry,  these  ensembles  cor- 
respond to  real  objects."     There  is  tlie  result  of  M.  Taine'a  inquiry, 
and  yet  the  most  essential  element  of  a  work  of  art  lies  outside  his 
definition.     Its  end,  w^e  are  told,  is  to  manifest,  more  clearly  than 
real  objects  do,  some  important  idea     But  if  this  be  so,  what  has  art 
to  do  with  the  emotions  ?     Simply  notlung :  a  thing  is  none  the  less 
a  work  of  art  though  it  address  itself  purely  to  the  understanding ; 
the  distinction  between  art  and  science  vanishes ;  the  first  principle 
of  art  is  denied.     "  No,"  M.  Taine  would  probably  reply ;  "  by  adding 
that  the  means  art  employs  for  making  the  idea  clear  is  an  ensemble 
of  connected  parts  with  the  relations  modified,  I  indicate  tliat  it  must 
operate  through  the  senses  or  imagination."   But  this  reply  is  nothing 
to  the  piurpose :  to  employ  the  senses  for  tlie  ends  of  science  does  not 
make  science  one  with  art.     Open  a  manual  of  what  is  called  natural 
philosophy,  and  look  at  the  diagrams  of  the  electrifying  machine,  the 
steam-engine,  the  pump.      To  make  the   modes  of  their  operation 
clearer,  some  parts  of  the  diagram  are  exaggerated, — the  real  propor- 
tions are  not  exactly  preserved.     Here  is  fulfilled  every  condition  of 
M.  Taine's  definition  of  a  work  of  art :  yet  are  these  diagrams  really 
not  different  in  kind  froin  a  poem  or  a  piece  of  music  ?     Do  they 
excite  pleasure,  or  a  trace  of  any  festhetical  emotion  ?     Are  they 
■works  of  art  ?     Is  their  end  the  same  as  that,  for  instance,  of  the 
"Moonlight  Sonata,"  or  Shelley's  "Ode  to  a  Skylark"?     Certainly 
not :  the  end  of  these  diagrams  is  purely  didactic ;  they  are  simply 
a  language  employed  by  science  which  addresses  the  understanding 
through  the  eye.     WTiat  do  they  teach  us  ?    AVhat  can  we  learn  from 
them  ?    These  are  the  first  and  last  questions  they  suggest.     If  they 
give   pleasure,  that  is   accidental;   is  it  so  with  the  poem  or  the 
sonata  ?     These  diagrams  might  be  produced  by  creatures  who  never 
felt  a  tliriU  of  nervous  sensibility,  never  an  emotion  of  joy  or  sorrow, 
of  pleasure  or  of  pain.     No,  they  are  not  art,  tliey  are  not  the  nppro- 


3o6  The  Contemporary  Review. 

priate  objects  of  any  human  emotion.    Tlie  positive  method  has  failed 
in  attaining  even  the  facts  of  wliich  it  speaks  so  much. 

And  this  failure  was  inevitable.  Tlie  nature  of  a  work  of  art  cai 
be  only  half,  nay,  can  tvoi  be  half  understood,  if  considered  as  a  fad 
out  of  relation  to  the  emotions  to  wliich  it  appeals.  Tlie  real  fact  ii 
not  a  material  one ;  observation  supplies  only  one  side  of  it,  reflectioi 
must  supply  the  other.  Suppose  the  sense  of  humour  suddenly 
annihilated  in  us,  and  that  we  go  to  see  a  representation  of  Shak' 
spare's  "  Twelfth  Night."  By  observing  the  visible  facts,  by  scruti- 
nizing the  movements  and  expressions  of  MalvoUo  and  Sir  Toby  ant 
Maria,  have  we  mastered  the  artistic  facts  ?  Do  we  understand  th( 
piece,  or  obtain  materials  for  a  philosophy  of  the  humorous  ?  True 
we  can  note  down  with  a  grave  countenance  the  strange  succession  o: 
antics  that  goes  on  before  us,  but  do  we  understand  their  actua 
nature?  We  may  institute  a  comparison  between  muacidar  actior 
as  it  appears  in  tragedy  and  in  comedy,  but  have  we  penetrated  to  th< 
meaning  of  the  sprightly  or  the  solenm  movements  of  either  piece 
Kg  ;  the  external  facts  are  but  half  the  facts  of  art,  and  are  intelligibh 
only  through  the  internal.  The  common  characteristics  of  groups  o: 
external  facts  must  be  studied  in  connection  with  the  commoi 
characteristics  of  groups  of  internal :  if  we  would  define  comedy,  w( 
must  try  to  define  humour;  if  we  would  understand  art,  we  musi 
understand  all  the  emotions  to  which  it  appeals, — a  philosopliy  of  an 
apart  from  psychology  is  indeed  futile  and  absurd. 

In  its  investigation  of  the  causes  of  works  of  art  and  their  pro- 
duction, the  historical  or  positive  method  is  again  at  fault.  It  cai 
lead  us  to  discover  the  causes  of  those  eliaracteristics  which  rfis- 
tingvki&k  this  and  that  period  of  art ;  it  can  tell  us  what  material  lui 
age  supplied  to  the  artist  to  work  upon,  what  special  wants  anc 
aptitudes  and  emotions  the  age  developed;  it  can  tell  us  wliy  th( 
Grecian  sculptor  expressed  the  perfection  of  physical  beauty,  anc 
tlie  perfect  equilibrium  of  soid  and  body ;  and  whence  came  the  mystic 
glories,  the  gi'otesqueness,  the  teeming  naturalism  of  the  Gothic  arclii- 
tecture ;  but  of  the  Imman  tendencies  which  are  the  ultimate  causes 
of  art,  of  those  tendencies  which  seek  for  expression  in  this  pecuUai 
way  rather  than  in  that  of  scientific  pursuit,  or  practical  action,  o: 
social  enjoyment,  the  historical  method  has  no  word  to  say. 

The  strength  of  positivism  in  lesthctics  lies  in  its  successful  study  o 
the  history  of  art.  The  work  of  the  artist  is  considered  not  as  ai 
isolated  object  of  wonder  and  admiration,  but  in  connection  with  tiu 
school  to  which  he  belonged,  and  the  social  condition  by  whiol 
he  was  surrounded.  Even  Shakspere  was  only  the  greatest  of  ( 
group  of  dramatists  who  all  wrote  much  ui  the  same  style  am 
much  in  tlie  same  spirit.  Even  liubens  was  only  the  greatest  o. 
a  school  of  painters — Seghers,  Van  Oost,  E'verdingen,  Van  Tlmlden 


French  ^si/ietics.  307 

Jordaena,  Vandyke — who,  like  him,  rejoiced  in  the  glory  of  colours, 
the  splendour  of  drapery,  and  the  opulence  of  a  redundant  phy- 
sical life.  Comte,  iu  the  notices  of  art  contained  in  "  The  Positive 
Philosophy,"  dwells  much  on  the  necessity,  for  the  production  of  effect- 
ive work,  of  harmony  existing  between  the  artist  and  those  to  whom 
he  addresses  himself*  This  idea  is  enlarged  on  and  illustrated  by  M. 
Taine.  To  develop  itself,  a  talent  must  be  favoured  by  surroimding 
circumstances.  Just  as  a  northern  or  southern  climate  selects  certain 
seeds,  encouraging  them  to  blosso:n  and  bear  fmit,  while  it  refuses  to 
grant  life  to  others,  or  at  most  allows  them  a  stunted  and  feeble 
growth,  80  the  moml  temperature  of  each  historical  period  makes  a 
choice  of  talents,  and  determines  the  development  of  art.  The  general 
condition  of  society  produces  certain  wants,  aptitudes,  and  emotions. 
The  group  which  these  form  when  embodied  in  a  remarkable  degree 
in  an  individual,  constitutes  what  M.  Taine  calls  Hic  reigning  personage, 
"  that  is  to  say,  the  model  which  persons  of  the  time  surround  with 
their  admiration  and  sympathy  :  in  Greece,  the  young  man  unclothed, 
and  of  a  beautiful  race,  accomplished  in  all  bodily  exercises :  in  the 
middle  ages,  the  ecstatic  monk  and  the  knightly  lover :  in  the  seven- 
teenth century,  the  perfect  courtier :  in  our  own  day,  Faust  or  Wer- 
ther,  insatiable  and  sad."  Kow  it  is  this  reiffniiig  persojuige  whom 
artists — the  great  artists  who  are  in  sympathy  with  their  age — will 
represent  for  the  public. 

The  present  reigning  personage,  according  to  M.  Taine's  description, 
is  certainly  not  a  person  very  magnanimous,  or  very  manly,  or  even 
quite  sane.  Our  milder  manners  have  made  him  delicately  sensitive 
to  all  the  little  pains  and  grievances  of  life,  and  a  lover  of  all  delicious 
sensations,  excitable  and  nervous.  He  is  imhappy,  sceptical,  ambi- 
tious, a  dreamer,  full  of  vague  and  never-satisfied  desires.  M.  Taine 
traces,  in  a  manner  most  suggestive  of  further  developments,  the  in- 
flnenoe  he  has  exercised  on  art  and  poetry.  And  indeed  it  is  impos- 
sible to  read  much  of  French  literature  without  becoming  aware  of  his 
melancholy  presence, — in  the  vague  yearnings  and  aspirations  of  the 
"Mutations,"  hi  the  doubtful  not«s  of  the  "Chants  du  Crdpuscule," 
in_^the  sad  cries  of  alternate  passion,  exhaustion,  ennui,  and  despair,  of 
the  weariest  child  of  tlie  century — Alfred  de  Musset ;  yes,  even  when 
we  drink  the  large  air  of  the  mountains  or  wander  in  the  murmurous 
shadows  of  old  oaks  with  De  Laprade,  or  listen  with  Autran  to  the 
wash  of  Mediterranean  waves  upon  their  beds  of  sand.  But  the 
"  reigning  personage  "  is  not  so  despotic  over  our  own  poets.  They 
have  not  suffered  so  terribly  from  la  maladie  du  sihcle.  What  a  noble 
sanity,  what  a  unity  of  nature,  what  a  perfect  co-operancy  of  the 
^notions,  the  conscience,  the  reason,  and  the  imagination,  existed  in 
our  greatest  poet,  Wordsworth !    Werther  is  not  liis  favourite  clia- 

•  Seo  H.  Uutineau's  tntiulation,  toI  ii.,  pp.  392 — i05. 


3o8  The  Contemporary  Review. 

racter.  If  the  Solitary  is  a  somewhat  sad  figure  standing  beside  Blea 
Tarn,  or  walking  over  the  ridge  to  Little  Langdale,  had  he  not  real 
sorrows  and  disappointments  enough  to  hreak  one's  heart,  and  are 
there  not  the  Wanderer,  and  the  Pastor,  besides  another  \vise  speaker, 
to  discourse  him  into  a  happy  state  of  mind  ?  It  is  three  against  one. 
And  then,  as  the  reader  knows,  the  Solitary  was  a  miserable  man  who 
did  not  confine  himself  to  wholesome  English  reading,  but  had  once 
in  his  possession  (it  was  well  the  "  cottage  children  "  who  found  it 
went  only  to  a  dame's  school) — 

"A  work 
In  the  Frencli  tongue,  a  noTcl  of  Voltaire." 

But  if  the  "  KxcursioD  "  were  itself  a  work  in  the  Trench  tongue 
(one  of  the  hardest  things  possible  to  imagine),  the  Solitary  would 
have  been  the  chief  figure,  and  have  made  his  confessions  in  melan- 
choly Alexandrines  to  the  stars  and  the  mountains.  It  is  unquestion- 
ably remarkable  that  the  "  reigning  personage,"  if  he  be  amongst  us, 
has  seldom  yet  ventured  to  be  lyrical.  In  a  few  of  Mr.  Mathew 
Arnold's  poems  we  hear  the  tones  of  his  voice ;  and  it  may  be  that, 
in  the  self- conflicting  portion  of  Jlr.  Clough's  natm-e,  he  helped,  by 
opposition,  to  excite  those  moods  in  which  common  work  and  plain 
duty  were  dwelt  on  as  the  springs  of  spiritual  strength  and  solace. 
But  ilr.  Tennyson  has  to  become  altogether  dramatic  before  he  can 
do  homage  to  the  "  reigning  personage,"  and  the  imheroic  heroes  of 
"  Locksley  Hall "  and  "  Maud "  rather  show  Mr.  Tennyson's  fine 
power  of  sympatliy  than  any  personal  Wertherism  or  Byronism. 
Tlie  speaker  in  "  Maud  "  (for  convenience  of  reference,  critics  ought  to 
agree  to  call  him  by  some  appropriate  simiame)  has  the  emotive  part 
of  his  nature  and  his  sensibilities,  from  many  sufficient  causes,  in 
exce.ss ;  he  is  saved  by  a  sudden  uprising  of  the  wUl,  and  by  action 
on  behalf  of  a  great  cause.  Keniarkably  enough,  Mr.  Browning's 
nearest  approach  to  a  presentation  of  the  "  reigning  personage" — Para- 
celsus— is  ruined  by  will  and  saved  by  love; — 

"  Featus,  let  my  bond — 
This  liand — lie  in  your  own,  luy  own  dear  friend! 
Aprile  !     Hand  in  liand  with  you,  Aprile  !" 

But  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  Robert  Browning  or  Alfred  Tenny- 
son wailing  lyrically  to  the  public  in  the  language  in  which  Milton 
wrote.  Heaven  preserve  the  manliness  of  our  poetry,  or  grant  tis  long 
barren  silence  and  a  wholesome  self-restraint.  As  yet  we  have  had 
little  of  what  Goethe  called  "  lazaretto  "  literature.  It  is  when  we  turn 
to  French  poetry  that  we  hear  the  lyrical  wail  on  every  side ;  eveu^on 
the  mountains  and  by  the  sea-shore  it  comes  to  us  like  a  long  f sigh 
upon  the  wind ;  but  in  Paris  we  find  it  sometimes  hard  to  believe 
that  we  have  not  entered  the  second  circle  of  the  Inferno." 

*  Notably  let  much  of  B  Jnuiger  be  amongat  the  exccjitions  to  these  criticumfl. 


French  Esthetics.  309 

In  other  ways  rather  than  by  his  visibly  confronting  us,  do  we  in 
England  feel  the  presence  of  the  "reigning  persont^"  of  M.  Taine. 
Werther,  and  Rend,  and  Manfred  have  died,  and  their  spirits  have 
departed  into  the  air.  Ah !  that  is  the  true  account  of  it :  there  is 
some  strange  ingredient  in  the  atmosphere,  slight,  but  enough,  if  we 
are  not  robust,  to  trouble  our  blood  and  make  ns  restless  and  full  of 
unresolved  questionings.  Hence,  in  part  (and  many  other  causes 
concur  with  this),  the  modem  love  of  external  nature.  This  vague 
scepticism,  and  restlessness,  and  delicate  susceptibility  to  pleasure 
and  pain,  by  the  quantum  of  energy  they  abstract  from  the  ^\'ill  and 
the  active  powers,  may  increase  the  less  determined  forms  of  emo- 
tional life.  To  such  a  soul  the  flowers  in  spring,  the  blue  abysses  of 
the  heavens  in  July  noons,  the  mystery  of  ocean  on  stUl  mornings, 
are  like  words  of  God,  of  which,  if  the  meaning  be  but  dimly  seen, 
the  music  and  the  tone  sink  deep  into  the  heart :  for  its  weariness  it 
finds  some  repose  in  all  things  that  live  quiet  and  dutiful  lives 
beneath  the  son  and  rains;  in  its  inunense  regret  and  sense  of 
personal  nothingness,  some  self-transcending  joy  in  presence  of  the 
inexhaustible  life  of  nature — some  passing  sympathy  in  the  moum- 
fulness  of  autimm  evenings — some  springs  of  hope  (when  hope  must 
needs  be  vague)  in  the  perfect  promises  of  summer  dawns.  The  blue 
sky  at  least  bends  over  all — the  speedwells  blow  happily  on  every 
bank — the  stream  still  sings  the  song  it  sang  a  thousand,  years  ago 
— ^the  earth  is  full  of  happy  murmurs,  and  there  is  multitudinous 
laughter  among  the  leaping  waves  of  the  sea. 

But  in  another  way  than  the  love  of  external  nature  the  influence 

of  the  reigning  personage  appears  yet  more  remarkably.     Whatever 

lamentations  may  be  pronounced  over  the  decline  of  the  fine  arts, 

there  is  one  art  which  is  at  the  present  day  a  passion  with  every 

nation  of  Europe.    Sculpture  may  have  little  real  and  Wtal  connection 

with  our  modem  life ;  our  architecture  may  be  grey,  and  grim,  and 

deathful,  or  a  sterile  reproduction  of  forms  which  critics  instmct  us 

(o  admire,  or  for  truly  modem  work,  a  railway  station  and  a  Crystal 

Palace ;  our  painting  may  have  fallen  sadly  away  from  "  the  grand 

style"   and  the  glories  of  "high  art:"   but  the  hearts  of  men  are 

vibrating  everywhere    to  perfect   music.      And  this,   as   M.   Taine 

i^marks,  is  the  genuine  language  of  reverie,  and  vague  emotion,  and 

i>ndefined  aspirations,  and  infinite  regret.     The  last  hundred  years 

liave  not  given  us  a  second  Phidias,  or  liaphael,  or  Shakspere ;  but 

"Vve  have  had  Handel,  and  Mozart,  and  Beethoven.     We  look  back  to 

the  Middle  Ages ;  and  because  we  find  a  wonderful  palace  here,  and 

a  bell-tower  or  a  cathedral  there,  we  say  they  were  great  days  of  art. 

And  so  they  were.     But  what  will  future  centuries  think  of  the  period 

of  art  in  which  "Don  Giovanni,"  "Fidelio,"  "Elijah"  were  created? 

WUl  the  paint    s  of  the  Renaissance  who  stood  below  Raphael  and 


3IO  The  Contemporary  Review. 

Michael  Angelo,  or  the  dramatists  of  the  Elizabethan  age  wlio  stood 
below  Shakspere,  appear  a  more  illustrious  group  of  artists  than 
Eosaini,  Donizetti,  Bellini,  Verdi,  Weber,  Aiiber,  Meyerbeer,  Berlioz, 
Gounod  ?     As  unquestionably  aa  sculpture  was  the  supreme  art  of 
Greece,  architecture  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  painting  of  the  Renais- 
sance (poetry  being  common  to  all),  is  music  the  supreme  art  of  the 
present  day.     It  is  that  with  whicli  we  are  most  in  sympathy :  it  is 
also  the  most  truly  democratic*     How  much  do  nine  persons  out  of 
ten  really  care  for  a  tinted  Venus  or  a  sleeping  faun  ?    "Wliat  amount 
of  pleasure  do  they  receive  from  wandering  through  a  picture  gallery? 
A  good  deal  of  fine  confused  pleasure  perhaps,  of  a  kind  which  allows 
them  to  make  remarks  upon  about  two  hundred  paintings  per  hour. 
But  to  obtain  any  intense  delight  from  painting,  such  delight  as  does 
not  suffer  one  to  make  a  remark,  not  a  little  special  culture,  except  in 
rare  instances,  must  have  gone  before.     Music,  if  we  set  aside  j>oetry, 
is  the  only  art  which  can  at  present  give  delight  of  great  intensity  to 
persons  who  have  received  but  slight  artistic  education,  or  that  pre- 
paration for  artistic  enjoyment  which  comes  from  the  study  of  nature 
and  literature.     The  mere  recollection  of  it  is  a  delicious  torture ;  it 
is  not  the  remembrance  of  an  object  perceived  by  the  senses,  but  the 
attempt   to  revive  a  state   into  which  our  whole  emotional  nature 
was  tlirown ;  and  though  tliis  state,  while  actually  experienced,  seems 
more  entirely  passive  and  trance-like  than  that  produced  by  any  of 
the  other  arts,  music,  more  powerfully  than  all  the  rest,  awakens  the 
dormant  artistic  activities  in  every  man,  and,  by  some  mysterious 
dealings  with  the  soul,  makes  him  involuntarily  a  reproducer.     It 
may  he  a  gain,  or  it  may  be  a  misfortune,  that  the  master  art  of  the 
present  day  should  be  one  so  purely  sensitive  and  emotional, — one 
into  which,  for  the  listener,  so  slight  an  intellectual  element  enters. 
But  of  the  fact  tliere  can  be  little  question.     "Wliat  may  come  of  this 
in  the  future  it  is  not  easy  to  conjecture;  but  this  we  know,  that  the 
source  of  a  noble  development  of  art  is  a  noble  national  nature,  and 
that  if  ever  a  period  comes  when  clear  thought,  earnest  faith  in  great 
things,  and  vigorous  wUls,  are  united  in  men  with  a  delicate  sus- 
ceptibility, a  finer  power  of  sjTnpathy,  and  a  higher  culture,  our 
countrj-  cannot  fail  to  obtain  a  freer  and  more  healthful  develoiiment 
of  ait  than  has  yet  appeared.t 

Edwahd  Dowden. 

"  See  "  A  Diolosue  on  the  Influence  of  Slusic,"  by  M.  Emilo  Monttigut,  Serut  da 
Jjtux  Monde*,  June  1,  1862  :  and  on  the  coniDion  elements  in  the  love  of  external  Daturg 
and  the  love  of  muaic,  the  preface  to  V.  tic  Lapindc'a  poems,  "  Lcs  Symphonies." 

t  M.  Taiue  declineB  the  psythological  inquirj-  in  (esthetics :  this  is  no  necessary  result 
from  Poaitiviem  in  its  idea,  from  I'ositivism  at  rest ;  but  there  are  instinuta  as  well  oa 
ideas  belonging  to  each  great  system  of  thought,  and  these  commonly  appear  when  it  iaja 
ftctioD. 


CHURCH  GOVERNMENT  IN   THE  COLONIES. 


JndgmtBt  of  iht  Judielat  CommitUs  of  Ote  PHvf  Cavnctt  on  the  Petition 
of  M«  Lord  BUhop  of  SaXait  March,  1S35. 

^FHE  Judgment  which  was  pronounced  ten  months  ago  by  the 

X     highest  Court  of  Justice  in  the  Empire  on  the  petitiou  of  the 

Bishop  of  Natal  was  received  in  some  quarters  with  dismay,  in  others 

with  exultation.     Those  who  exulted  did  so  on  opposite  grounds. 

Some  few  rejoiced  that  the  Bishop  of  Natal  was  free  to  return  to  his 

diocese,  and  secure  in  his  bishopric ;  while  many  more  were  thankful 

that  the  colonial  clergy  were  not  delivered  over  to  the  will  of  bishops, 

whose  proceedings  might  be  as  arbitrary  as  that  of  the  Bishop  of 

Capetown.     On  the  other  hand,  a  considerable  number  of  Churchmen, 

Some  of  them  worthy  of  the  highest  consideration,  raised  the  cry, 

"The  Colonial  Chureh  is  free;"  while  ^ain  the  more  violent,  not 

Scrupling  to  attribute  a  hostile  feeling  against  tlie  Church  to  the  grave 

Judges  who  gave  their  advice  to  the  Sovereign,  declared  that  their 

Subtlety  had  overreached  itself,  and  that  the  principles  which  they 

l^ad  laid  down  in  enmity  to  the  Church  had,  against  their  wishes, 

t-urned  to  her  best  interests.    We  hope  to  make  clear,  in  the  course 

of  the  present  review,  how  far,  and  in  what  sense,  the  Chureh  in  the 

C^oloniea  is  free. 

But  others  view^ed  the  discovery  of  the  true  position  of  the  colonial 
laishops  with  alarm.  They  had  hoped  that  the  Letters  Patent  were 
"valid,  and  that  the  bishoprics  created  by  them  were  to  liold  as  power- 
ful a  position  as  those  in  England  itself.     And  when  it  was  foimd 


3 1 2  The  Contemporary  Review. 

that  the  powers  to  which  they  had  trusted  were  really  non-existent, 
it  appeared  as  if  the  whole  edifice  of  the  Colonial  Clmrch  was  over- 
thrown. They  looked  to  the  past  regretfully,  with  bitter  reproaches 
ayainst  the  Government  and  the  lawyers  who  had  betrayed  them,  and 
tfl  the  future  with  helpless  dismay.  We  liope  that  we  may  be  able 
to  say  something  to  reassure  them.  At  least,  since  so  much  has 
to  be  done,  let  us  leave  lamenting  for  the  irretrievable  past,  and  for 
possibilities  which  no  longer  exist,  and  address  ourselves  to  the  con- 
sideration of  what  it  lies  in  our  power  to  accomplish.  Tlie  Church 
lives  on.  She  is  less  affected  than  we  are  wont  to  think  by  questions 
of  discipline;  and  it  is  not  the  first  requisite  that  her  internal  or 
external  relations  sliould  be  of  a  faultless  symmetry. 

The  blow  which  has  fallen  is  not  a  thunderstroke  whiph  no  one 
could  expect  or  guard  against.  It  is  rather  comparable  to  the  fall  of 
an  ill-built  tower  which  has  long  been  giving  evidence  of  its  minous 
state,  or  like  the  breaking  of  a  reed  on  which  you  had  long  l^een 
warned  not  to  bear  too  hard.  There  was  enough,  any  time  since 
1847,  when  the  case  of  Tasmania  was  looked  into,  to  have  shown 
any  man  who  was  amenable  to  conviction,  that  the  Letters  Patent 
granted  to  bishops  in  colonies  where  the  right  of  legislation  had 
been  surrendered  by  the  Crown,  could  not  confer  coercive  powers; 
and  ^^'e  cannot  but  think  that,  had  it  not  been  for  an  overweenin*' 
conception  of  the  rights  and  dignity  of  the  episcopal  oflfice  in  itself, 
the  Bishop  of  Capetown  would  ne"\er  have  been  led  to  institute  the 
two  series  of  proceedings  which  liave  resulted  in  so  sad  an  exliibition 
of  the  invalidity  of  his  claims.  He  would  never  have  imagined  that 
the  Letters  Patent  in  themselves  could  bear  liim  out  in  expelling  n 
beneficed  clergyman  for  refusing  to  assist  in  establishing  a  synod,  of 
which  the  only  thing  not  liable  to  question  was  its  purely  voluntary 
chamctt-r,  or  in  deposing  another  bishop  by  a  process,  and  on  grounds, 
which  the  laws  and  mode  of  proceeding  of  tlie  mother  Church  would 
not  sanction.  He  had  other  grounds  on  which  to  rest  his  claim.  He 
imagines  that  a  clergyman,  once  placed  in  the  position  of  a  bishop  or 
of  a  metropolitan,  acquires  certain  rights  which  do  not  rest  on  grounds 
cognizable  by  the  laws  of  England  or  her  Colonies,  but  on  certain  tra- 
ditions of  the  second  or  third  centurj',  which  his  imagination  invests 
with  a  kind  of  Divine  authority.  The.se  traditions  are  somewhat 
vague,  and  if  accessible  at  all,  are  so  only  to  those  who  are  learned  in 
church  history;  they  belong  to  an  age  so  different  from  our  own  that 
even  customs  and  words  were  not  the  same  then  as  now,  and  there  is 
no  known  method  of  transferring  them  from  that  age  to  this;  and  the 
powers  which  they  are  supposed  to  confer  are  still  more  vague.  AVere 
they  once  admitted,  there  woidd  be  no  knowing  where  we  stood ;  we 
should  Iw  embarked  on  a  sea  of  confusion,  where  there  was  no  hohliug- 


Church  Government  in  tlie  Colonies.  313 

ground,  and  the  strongest  wind  ■which  happened  to  blow  would  carry 
us  at  its  wilL  We  shall  not  attempt  to  complicate  the  present  ques- 
tions, which  are  perplexed  enough,  by  entering  upon  abstract  rights 
of  this  kind.  If  they  exist,  it  is  certain  that  they  cannot  be  put  in 
force  except  by  express  laws  or  compacts,  which  have  to  be  made 
by  the  parties  concerned.  There  are  only  two  grounds  on  which 
church  government  in  the  Colonies  can  rest, — the  laws  and  customa 
of  the  English  Church  as  it  exists  at  the  present  day  in  the  mother 
country,  and  the  laws  or  compacts  which  have  been  or  may  be  made 
in  the  Colonies.  The  notion  of  a  tacit  and  assumed  contract  in  this 
case  is  far  weaker  than  the  social  contract  on  which  ordinary  society 
is  sometimes  said  to  be  founded ;  for  the  latter  theory  has  this  advan- 
tage, that  it  can  never  be  tested,  but  the  former  has  been  brought  to 
the  test  and  has  burst  to  pieces. 

Confining  ourselves,  then,  to  what  is  really  feasible,  according  to 
the  circumstances  of  the  present  day,  we  propose  to  point  out, — 1st, 
The  facts  in  which  the  present  difficulties  originated ;  2ndly,  The  present 
state  of  the  different  dioceses,  in  reference  to  church  government,  and 
Iiow  they  are  affected  by  the  present  judgment ;  3rdly,  The  best  means 
open  to  us  for  setting  right  tlie  diflicidties  which  have  arisen. 

I.  The  efforts  to  found  bishoprics  in  the  great  American  Colonies 
extended  over  the  greater  part  of  the  last  century.  Tliere  appears  to 
have  been  a  dread  on  the  part  of  the  Government  and  the  colonists  of 
the  establishment  of  an  ecclesiastical  power,  such  as  had  grown  up  in 
England  in  the  seventeenth  century  out  of  the  ruins  of  the  gigantic 
structure  which  had  lain  so  heavily  on  all  Europe  before  the  Eeforma- 
tion.  In  vain  did  Archbishop  Tenison,  to  whom  no  man  could  impute 
excessive  hierarchical  claims,  leave  a  munificent  bequest  for  the  erec- 
tion of  sees  in  America,  and  Bishop  Gibson  and  Archbishop  Seeker,  and 
others  of  less  distinction,  throw  their  influence  into  the  scale.  We 
cannot  say  that,  with  the  remembrance  of  the  High  Church  mobs  of  the 
days  of  Queen  Anne  fresh  in  their  recollection,  and  with  the  claims 
lo  dominion  over  the  laity  in  matters  of  moral  discipline,  put  forth  in 
such  booka  as  Gibson's  "  Codex,"»  before  their  eyes,  there  was  nothing 
du  the  apprehensions  which  so  long  proved  fatal  to  a  well-meant 
endeavour.  Evep  when,  in  1787,  the  war  had  shown  that  the  Episco- 
jahana  were  the  most  well-affected  of  all  religious  bodies  in  America 
to  the  English  Government,  and  it  was  thought  desirable  to  strengthen 
a  loyal  communion,  which  numbered  among  its  members  so  many 
Trho  had  bled  for  the  royal  cause,  by  consenting  to  the  establishment 
cf  a  bishopric  of  Nova  Scotia,  it  was  expressly  recommended  by  the 

*  We  have  no  complunt  against  tliis  laborious  and  useful  conipUatiuu  itaolf ;  but  the 
■riers  contained  in  tbe  Introduction,  which  wore  severely  commented  on  at  the  time  a« 
nriving  claims  to  spiiitual  dominion,  and  were  exposed  and  refuted  by  Sir  Michael  Foster, 
aight  well  cost  su-ipicion  upon  tha  Prelate's  clforts  fo;-  the  crcctioa  of  new  bishoptics. 
VOL.  I.  Y 


314  The  Contemporary  Review, 

Conrmittee  of  the  Privy  Council  for  Trade  and  the  Colonies — the  tiien 
Colonial  Office, — to  which  the  question  was  referred,  that  the  new 
bishop  should  have  no  civil  authority  whatsoever,  except  what  might 
be  necessary  for  the  discharge  of  ]iis  duty  in  clerum,  and  that  he 
should  have  no  jurisdiction  in  cases  of  matrimony,  or  probate  or 
ecclesiastical  dues,  nor  any  power  of  proceeding  in  salufcm  anima  in 
cases  of  incontinence,  brawling,  or  defamation.  Tliese  impediments 
have  happily  been  removed ;  but  we  think  the  fact  of  their  existence 
should  he  well  laid  to  heart  by  those  who  are  inclined  to  urge  epis- 
copal authority  beyond  the  modest  limits  of  English  law.  They  may 
be  assured  that  every  irregular,  high-handed  act,  done  in  however 
good  a  cause,  tends  to  rouse  the  old  spirit  of  jealous  opposition,  and  to 
retai-d  the  establishment  of  an  organized  episcopal  system. 

It  is  not  a  little  remarkable  that  the  first  colonial  bishopric  ever 
founded — that  of  Xova  Scotia,  in  1787 — was  founded  in  a  colony  which 
bad  for  more  than  thirty  years  enjoyed  representative  government, 
and  that  the  Letters  Patent  by  which  it  was  founded,  and  which 
purported  to  confer  tlie  fullest  coercive  jiu-isdiction,  were  drawn  by 
the  law  oflicers  of  the  Crown,  on  the  recommendation  of  the  then 
Colonial  Depai-tment.  The  fatal  precedent  having  been  set,  it  is  not 
to  be  wondered  at  that  it  was  followed  in  other  cases.  In  the  founda- 
tion of  the  next  bishopric,  that  of  Quebec,  the  warrant  appointing  Dr. 
Mountain  the  first  bishop  was  refen'cd  to  the  law  officers,  one  oi 
wliom  was  Sir  J.  Scott,  afterwards  Lord  Eldon,  and  their  opinion 
was  that  "  the  document  was  dni\vn  in  pi-oper  form."  It  is,  how- 
ever, to  be  noticed  (as  the  Natal  Judgment  reminds  us),  that  in  tht 
establishment  of  the  bishopric  of  Calcutta  (which  was  effected  in  th( 
chaiicellorsliip  of  Lord  Eldon),  the  authority  of  Parliament  was  invoked 
to  give  validity  to  the  Letters  Patent,  wliich  thus  became  a  part  of  ar 
Imperial  Statute;  and  further,  that  when,  in  1824,  under  the  sarot 
Chancellor,  tlie  bishoprics  of  Jamaica  and  Bai'badoes  were  established 
though  the  Letters  Patent  wei-e  fii-st  issued,  an  Act  of  Parliament  was 
passed  in  the  following  year,  recognising  the  fact^  and  authorizing  pay- 
ment from  Imperial  funds,  and  acts  of  the  Colonial  Legislature  wert 
framed  which  enabled  the  bishop  to  exercise  jurisdiction  over  the  cleigy 
It  woidd  seem  as  if  Lord  Eldon  felt  the  responsibility  of  having  sanc- 
tioned tlie  waiTant  for  the  appointment  of  the  first  bishop  of  Quebec 
and  that  ho  was  desirous  of  obviating  in  other  cases  the  dangen 
which  he  jjerceived  to  be  inherent  in  the  method  of  procedure  adoptee 
in  that  case.  There  appears,  on  this  head,  to  be  a  mistake  in  the 
supposition  hazarded  by  the  authors  of  tlie  Natal  Judgment,  that  thf 
phrases  in  the  Letters  Patent  purporting  to  confer  coercive  jurisdic- 
tion were  copied  from  those  used  in  the  case  of  India,  in  forgetfulnes; 
of  the  fact  that  Parliament,  which  had  given  its  supreme  authoritr; 


Church  Government  in  t/ie  Colonies.  3 1 5 

for  the  foundation  of  the  Indian  bishopric,  had  not  been  invoked  in 
other  caaea.  It  is  possible  that  the  form  of  the  Patent  may  have 
been  adapted  from  that  of  the  Indian  bishoprics,  but  the  fact  that  the 
earliest  precedents  were  without  tlie  sanction  of  Farliament  would 
naturally  check  any  strong  demand  for  a  scrutiny  into  the  matter. 
The  same  remark  may  be  a])plied  to  the  form  of  the  subsequent 
Letters  Patent,  which  was  used  for  all  the  bishoprics  which  owe  their 
foundation  to  the  movement  of  Bishop  Blomiield  in  1840.  But  the 
difficulties  which  Lord  Eldon  appears  to  have  foreseen,  soon  after  this 
date  began  to  make  themselves  felt.  The  theory  of  coloidal  govern- 
ment, which,  at  the  time  of  the  foundation  of  the  earliest  bishopric, 
was  somewhat  unsettled,  has  since  been  worked  out  by  numerous  and 
varied  experiments.  It  might  have  seemed  natural  to  men  who  had 
just  emerged  from  the  desperate  attempt  to  enforce  by  arms  the  taxa- 
tion of  the  American  colonists,  to  hold  that  the  King  could,  by  his 
prerogative,  establish  a  bishopric  in  a  loyal  colony.  But  it  is  e<iually 
natural  to  ua — who  are  accustomed  to  look  upon  tlie  Colonies  almost 
as  independent  nations,  and  to  forbear  to  urge  the  Imperial  authority 
even  in  such  a  matter  as  the  sending  of  convicts  to  a  willing  colony 
against  the  wishes  of  its  distant  neighbour, — to  admit  as  an  axiom  that 
the  Crown,  having  once  parted  with  its  legislative  power,  cannot,  by 
its  subsequent  act,  supersede  the  functions  of  the  legislature  which 
it  has  established 

The  invalidity,  in  such  cases,  of  the  grant  of  coercive  jurisdiction 
was  first  brought  clearly  to  view  in  the  case  of  the  bishopric  of 
Tasmania.  Soon  after  the  foundation  of  that  bishopric,  in  184;2,  com- 
plaints were  made  of  the  powers  bestowed  by  the  Letters  Patent,  and 
especially  of  that  part  of  them  which  authorized  the  bishop  to  sum- 
mon witnesses  before  the  Ecclesiastical  Comt.  Tins  power  may  he 
said  to  represent  the  exact  point  at  whicli  the  colonists  have  usually 
recalcitrated  against  the  request  for  a  grant  of  powers  of  discipline  to 
the  Church.  The  case  of  the  bishopric  of  Tasmania  was  referred  to  the 
law  officers  of  the  Crown  in  1846,  and  they  were  of  opinion  tliat  Her 
Majesty  "  had  no  authority,  by  letters  Patent,  to  create  tlie  ecclesi- 
astical jurisdiction  complained  of;"  and  in  accordance  witlt  this 
opinion  new  Letters  Patent  were  given  for  Tasmania,  and,  on  the 
creation  of  the  other  Australian  sees,  the  power  to  summon  .witnesses 
and  examine  them  by  oath  was  omitted,  as  also  the  express  power  to 
punish  by  suspension  and  deposition.  In  fact,  the  powers  given^were 
those  denoted  by  the  word  "visitation,"  not  " jurisdictipn." 

With  this  experience^  jt  can  hardly  be  thought  that  when,  ia  1853, 
ther  Letters  I'atent  for  the  South  African  dioceses  were  gi<ven,  they 
woxdd  be  taken  by  any  maq  'who  looked  facts  in  the  face  to  confer,  of 
themselves,  a  coercive  juriadiction ;  and  we  can  only  weuder;  at  the 


3 1 6  T'le  ConU-.iiporary  Review. 

rashness  and  wilfulness  which  prompted  the  attempt  to  enforce,  by 
virtue  of  these  instruments,  an  episcopal  autocracy  to  which  nothing 
similar  has  been  seen  in  England  since  the  days  of  the  Court"  of  High 
ComraiBsion,  Those  who  have  counselled  these  proceedings  are  them- 
selves alone  responsible  for  the  disastrous  issue  of  their  attempt.  Nor 
can  we  consider  that  the  issue  has  been  otlier  than  disastrous.  It  is 
said,  indeed,  tliat  it  is  best  to  know  at  once  wliere  we  stand ;  Init  this 
was  known  suiiiciontly  before.  "NMiat  has  been  elicited  by  these 
attempts  is  the  unfortunate  spectacle  of  a  bishop  of  the  Church  of 
England  asserting  a  despotic  power  for  which  he  had  no  grounds ; 
appealing  to  the  most  solemn  sanctions  for  his  support  in  a  manner 
wliich,  to  bystanders,  could  hardly  appear  other  than  ridiculous; 
scattering  accusations  of  heresy  and  schism  broadcast  around  bim, 
witliout  the  support  of  any  church  authority  but  his  own  opinion; 
and  conducting  the  pTOceedinga  in  a  manner  which  has  made  every 
man  of  any  legal  experience  see  here  a  fresh  proof  of  the  imfitness  of 
aspiring  ecclesiastics  and  heated  theologians  to  exercise  control  in 
spiritual  causes.  These  proceedings  may  also  well  make  all  thought- 
ful Churchmen  feel  that  of  all  risks  which  the  Colonial  Church  could 
run,  the  most  desperate  would  bo  that  of  being  given  over  to  the 
uncontrolled  will  of  its  priestly  ndera. 

II.  Let  us  look,  then,  at  the  state  iu  which  the  various  dioceses 
find  themselves  on  this  revelation  of  tlie  insufliciency  of  the  Letters 
Patent. 

AVe  may  arrange  the  dioceses  iu  four  categories — (1)  Those  iu 
which  the  Letters  Patent  are  valid,  as  having  been  establishetl  or 
directly  confirmed  by  acts  of  the  Imperial  or  local  Legislature; 
(2)  those  in  which  the  Letters  I'atent  are  valid,  the  Crown  ha\'iiig 
]jower  of  legislation ;  (3)  those  whicli,  having  been  constituted  with- 
out proper  authority,  gain  an  authority  wliich  they  had  not  on  their 
first  erection,  by  subsequent  acts  of  the  Imperial  or  Colonial  Legisla- 
ture ;  and  (4)  those  which  bear  the  full  effects  of  the  late  juilgmeut. 

To  the  first  class  belong  the  East  Indian  bishopries — Calcutta, 
Madras,  and  Bombay ;  and  the  "West  Indian  bishoprics — Jamaica, 
Barbadoes,  Antigua,  British  Guiana,  Nassau  (Bahamas),  and  Kingstou 
(Jamaica).  In  these  nine  cases  the  church  may  be  regarded  as  dis- 
tinctly established,  and  governed  in  matters  of  clergy  discipline,  by 
the  ecclesiastical  laws  of  England  as  though  they  were  parts  of  the 
mother  country. 

To  the  second  class  belong  Gibraltar,  Colombo,  Victoria  (Hong 
Kong),  Sierra  Leone,  Mauritius,  Labuan,  Perth  (Western  Australia). 
British  Columbia  (excepting  Vancouver's  Island),  and  St.  Helena.  I" 
these  nine  cases  the  bishops  are  empowered  to  exercise  spiritual  and 
ecclesiastical  jurisdiction  according  to  tlie  ecclesiastical  laws  now  ^ 


Church  Government  in  the  Colonies.  3 1 7 

force  in  England,  and  an  appeal  is  given  from  tlie  bishop  to  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury. 

To  the  thinl  class  belong  tlie  North  American  bishojirics ;  those  ot" 
Australia  (excepting  Adelaide) ;   Capetown  and  (Irahani's  To\^'n  in 
South   Africa ;   New   Zealand   and    Christ   Church  (New   Zeahmd). 
These  seventeen  bishoprics  vary  in  their  cu'ciinistancea  and  hi  the 
mode  and  extent  to  which  they  have  received  recognition.     Nova 
Scotia  is  recognised  in  31  Geo.  III.,  cap.  36,  §  40  (the  Act  esttbliah- 
ing  representative  government  in  Canaila),  which  provides  that  ])re- 
sentations  to  benefices  in  Canada  shall  be  "  subject  to  the  right  of 
institution  and  other  jurisdiction  or  authority  lawfully  granted  by 
His  Majesty's  Letters  Patent  to  the  liisliop  of  No\a  Scotia."     It  is 
also  recognised  by  59  Geo.  III.,  cap.  (50,  ^  3,  which  allows  the  persons 
ordained  by  the  Bishop  of  Nova  Scotia  and  (Quebec  to  hold  prefer- 
ment in  England  under  certain   I'eservations — a  provision  hitlierto 
understood  to  extend  to  all  colonial  dioceses.     Quebec  is  thus  recog- 
nised by  an  Imperial  Act,   and   it   also,  with   the   other  Canadian 
liioceses  (Toronto,  Montreal,  Huron,  Ontario),  falls  under  the  pro- 
vision of  the  General  Canadian  Act  of  1850,  which  gives  power  to  the 
English  Church  in  Canada  to  regulate  its  own  affairs.     Fredericstown 
is  rpcognised  by  an  Act  of  New  IJruuswick,  which  |>rovide8  very 
minutely,  and  in  a  somewhat  smuuiary  way,  for  tlie  discipline  of  the 
clergy  by  means  of  the  civil  magistrate.     The  Australian  bishoprics 
wliicli  have  been  formed  out  of  New  South  "Wales  receive  a  recognition 
and  a  certain  power  from  colonial  acts  relatuig  to  the  trusts  under 
which  chapels  and  paraonages  may  lie  built,  and  to  the  grants  given 
for  the  building  of  churches  and  the  maintenance  of  ministers  by  the 
Colonial  Govemmeut;  while  the  Colonies  of  Tasmania  and  Mctoria 
have  churcli  acts  of  their  own,  giving  I'uU  powers  of  meeting  in  synod, 
and  of  exercising  discipline  (even  to  the  extent,  in  the  case  of  Tasmania, 
(if  administering  oatlis  to  -witne-sses).     The  diocese  of  Christ  Chim;h 
in  New  Zealand  was  separated  from  the  inother  diocese  by  Letters 
Patent,  but  an  Act  of  the  Imperial  Parliament,  15  &  16  Vict,  cap.  88, 
was  passed  "  to  clear  away  doubts  as  to  the  constitution  of  the  dio- 
cese, and  to  enable  Her  Majesty  to  constituto  it,  and  to  divide  it  from 
that  of  New  Zealand,"  so  that  both  dioceses  thus  receive  recognition, 
lastly,  the  dioceses  of  Capetown  and  Graham's  Town  are  recognised 
by  a  colonial  act  which,  on  the  separation  of  the  dioceses,  gave  power 
to  the  Bishop  of  Capetown  to  transfer  to  his  suffragan  certain  lands 
hitherto  held  in  his  name. 

The  case  of  Rupert's  Land  is  peculiar.     But  since  funds  are  paid  by 
the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  for  the  bishop's  salary,  the  bisliopric'there 
may  be  said  to  have  received  recognition  by  the  governing  body. 
There  remain  six  dioceses, — that  of  Natal,  those  of  Wellington, 


3 1 8  The  Contemporary  Review. 

Waiapii,  and  Nelson  in  New  Zealand,  of  Adelaide  in  South  Australia, 
and  of  Newfoundland, — which  are  exposed  to  the  full  and  nniniti- 
gated  effects,  whatever  they  may  be,  of  the  Natal  Judgment.  To 
these  may  be  added  Vancouver's  Island,  which,  having  representative 
institutions,  is  included,  with  the  Crown  colony  of  British  Columbia, 
under  a  single  bishop.  On  the  establishment  of  the  bishopric  of  New 
Westminster,  the  bishopric  of  Vancouver  will  fall  wholly  under 
the  effects  of  the  judgment,  while  the  Letters  Patent  may  probably 
be  granted  for  the  new  see  without  infraction  of  the  principles  now 
laid  down. 

This  review  sliows  at  once  that  there  are  a  large  number  of  colonial 
dioceses  to  which  the  eff'ects  of  the  late  judgment  do  not  apply: 
eighteen  out  of  forty  are  untouche<l  by  it;  and  of  the  remainder, 
sixteen  are  but  partially  affected,  lea\ing  but  six  which  are  in  the 
same  case  as  tlie  diocese  of  Natal. 

This  may  possibly  be  too  favourable  an  estimate,  yet  it  is  one  which 
has  been  accepted  by  some  of  the  best  authorities  in  these  matters. 
If  the  ohiter  dicta  of  the  Natal  Judgment  may  be  taken  as  determining 
the  course  of  future  legal  jiroceedings,  it  might  seem  that  the  Letters 
Patent  which  piniioi-t  to  confer  coercive  jurisdiction,  even  in  colonies 
in  which  the  Crown  has  the  power  of  legislation,  are  in  that  respect 
invalid  ;  for  among  the  reasons  given  for  the  invalidity  of  the  powers 
assumed  l)y  tlie  liishop  of  Capetown,  is  the  fact  that  by  the  Act 
which  abolished  the  Higli  Commission,  the  Crown  has  no  power  to 
create  ne«'  Ecclesiastical  Courts.  In  a  former  ])art  of  the  judgment, 
however,  we  are  told  that  "  in  a  Crown  colony,  properly  so  called, 
.  .  .  a  bisho])  may  be  constituted  and  ecclesiastical  jurisdiction 
imjiosed  by  the  sole  authority  of  the  Crown." 

liut  it  is  not  merely  in  respect  of  actual  juri.sdictiou  that  this  judg- 
ment affects  tlie  colonial  episco]iiite.  The  very  existence  of  a  diocese 
in  the  seu.se  of  a  teri'itorial  limit,  within  whicli  nil  memliers  of  the 
Church  of  Phigland  are  bound  together  in  subjection  to  one  spirituij 
head,  has  been  thought  to  be  denied  in  the  eases  affected  by  the 
judgiuent.  Perhaps  this  point  has  been  overstrnined.  The  wortls 
of  the  judgment  are:  "There  was  no  power  in  the  Crown  by 
vii'tue  of  its  iirerogative  to  establish  a  metropolitan  see  or  i)ro"\ince, 
or  tu  create  an  ecclesiastical  corporation,  whose  statiis,  right,s,  and 
authority  flie  colony  should  he  required  to  recorjnise.  After  a  colony 
or  settlement  has  received  legislative  institiitions,  the  Crowii  (subject 
to  the  s^Hicial  ]irovisions  of  any  Act  of  I'arliament)  stands  in  the 
same  relation  to  that  colony  or  settlement  as  it  does  to  the  United 
Kingdom.  It  may  be  true  that  the  Crown,  as  legal  head  of  tiie 
Church,  has  a  right  to  command  the  consecration  of  a  bishop;  but  it 
has  no  power  to  assign  to  him  any  diocese  or  give  him  any  sphere  of 


Church  Government  in  ilie  Colonies.  319 

action  in  the  United  Kingdom."  Tlie  Judicial  Committee  were  anxious 
to  do  away  with  the  supposed  coercive  power  of  the  Lettera  Patent ; 
and  we  take  the  words  in  which  the  power  of  fraraiiij,'  dioceses  is 
denied  to  mean  merely  that  there  is  no  limit  witliin  which  the 
episcopal  authority  acquires  a  coercive  power,  either  over  clergymen 
or  laymen.  Tliat  the  Croivn,  as  head  of  the  Chui-ch,  has  riglitly  exer- 
cised its  discretion  in  the  assignment  of  certain  limits,  within  which 
such  authority  as  it  could  confer  should  be  exercised,  is  not  denied ; 
nor  is  it  at  all  clear  that  these  limits  could  be  violated  even  in  such 
dioceses  as  Capetown  or  Natal,  witliout  entailing  serious  consequences 
on  those  who  violated  them.  At  all  events,  the  moral  authority  the 
Letters  Patent  possess  in  this  territorial  limitation  is  such  as  cannot 
be  questioned ;  for  this  limitation  has  gained  in  most  instances  the 
sanction  of  usage,  which  not  only  gives  it  a  kind  of  power  in  itself, 
but  also,  by  the  recognition  of  the  bishop  in  legal  documents,  such 
as  the  trust-deeds  throughout  tlie  diocese,  gi\es  him  by  degrees  a 
l^al  status,  from  which  he  cannot  be  dislodged  without  his  consent 
or  by  process  of  law.  The  assertion,  therefore,  wliich  has  been  some- 
times made,  that  the  bishops  affected  by  this  judgment  are  left 
without  dioceses,  needs  to  be  much  modihed. 

The  point,  however,  of  most  serious  moment,  is  tliat  of  the  supposed 
legal  disabilities  which  might  attach  hi  this  country  to  the  clergy 
ordained  by  the  bishops  whose  position  is  affected  by  the  judgment. 
The  Act  of  Parliament  wliich  prescribes  the  coiuUtions  within  which 
a  clergyman  ordained  for  or  in   the  colonies  may  otticiate  in   thi.s 
country,  contains  a  clause  which  (59  Geo.  III.,  c.  liO)  absolutely  pro- 
hibits any  person   ordained,  by   "any   colonial   bishop   not   having 
episcopal  jurisdiction  within  some  diocese,  and  residing  therein,"  from 
"holding  ecclesiastical  prefenneut  anywhere  in  His  Majesty's  domi- 
nions," or  "officiating  at  any  place  or  in  any  manner,"  "  as  minister  of 
the  Established  Church  of  England  and  Ireland."     This  of  course  was 
intended  to  limit  tlie  powera  of  colonial  bishops  to  the  time  of  their 
Lolding  office ;  and  it  is  easy  to  see  that  without  some  such  jjrovisiou 
we  should  have  nin  many  dangers,  such  as  the  ptnver  of  ordination 
and  of  performing  episcopal  functions  without  the  responsibility  wliich 
attaches  to  the  administration  of  a  diocese ;  and  the  jiowers  which 
Would  thus  be  given  woidd  be  t^uite  incalculable,     lint  does  not  the 
weight  of  this  i)rovi3ion  now  fall  upon  all  those  who  have  lieeu 
ordained  by  the  bishops  affected  by  the  recent  judgment  ?    We  confess 
that  we  caimot  share  in  the  alann  created  by  tliis  question.     We 
do  not  believe  that  the  clause  woidd  be  applied  to  bishops  who 
lave  a  known   episcopal  position  appointed   them   by  the  Crown, 
Indeed,  the  terms  of  the  Act  itself  seem  effectually  to  guard  against 
U»e  rigorous  expansion  of  its  prohibition;  for,  on  comparing  the  3rd 


3  20  The  Contemporary  Review. 

and  4th  sections,  we  find  a  distinction  drawn  between  colonial  bishop* 
in  the  ordinary  sense,  and  bishops  unattached  and  without  dioceses. 
The  3rd  section  provides  that  persons  ordained  by  bishops  other  than 
of  England  and  Ireland,  shall  only  be  capable  of  officiating  in  England 
by  special  permission  of  the  archbishop  of  the  province  and  the  bishop 
of  the  diocese  in'  which  they  desire  to  serve.  But  the  4th  section 
restrains  the  persons  ordained  by  colonial  bishops  not  possessing  epis- 
copal jurisdiction  in  some  diocese,  from  officiating  as  ministers  of  the 
Church  of  England  anywhere,  on  any  pretence  w^hatever.  It  is  worthy 
of  remark,  that  two  of  the  bishops  named  in  the  3rd  section  as 
having  dioceses  and  jurisdiction,  au<l  consa^uently  as  coutiusted  with 
the  non-diocesan  bishops,  against  whom  Section  4  is  directed,  are  the 
bishops  of  Quebec  and  Nova  Scotia,  who  stood  at  that  time  precisely 
in  the  same  position  as  the  bishops  of  Capetown  or  New  Zealand  now 
stand.  Ajid  if  it  be  contended  that  tliose  bishops  are  mentioned  in 
the  Act  inadvertently,  it  not  having  been  then  discovered  that  they 
had  no  jmisdiction,  it  may  most  justly  be  replied  that  the  inadvertence 
tells  the  contraiy  %\'ay,  and  that  the  class  of  bishops  against  whom 
Section  4  is  directed  is  evidently  not  that  to  which  those  bishops 
belong  who  have  been  regularly  appointed,  and  are  exercising  their 
lawful  functions  in  tlie  places  to  which  they  have  been  sent.  The  term 
"jurisdiction,"  standing  in  this  connection,  would  haixlly  be  pressed 
to  its  extreme  consequences  in  our  Law  Courts,  when,  if  so  pressed,  it 
would  lead  to  the  extrusion  of  many  incumbents  in  England  &om 
their  livings,  and  to  the  invalidating  of  marriages  and  other  clerical 
acts  in  thousands  of  cases, — nay,  to  a  universal  interdict  upon  the 
clergy  ordained  by  tlie  colonial  bishops,  from  officiating  either  at  home 
or  in  the  Colonies.  The  danger,  indeeil,  which  is  here  supposed,  is  so 
great  as  to  produce  its  o^ti  remedy ;  and  tlie  first  judicial  act  which 
invalidated  the  position  of  all  clergymen  ordained  by  colonial  bishops, 
would  be  the  signal  for  an  application  to  Parliament  for  a  remedy  which 
could  not  be  denied.  We  can  hardly  think,  therefore,  that  the  alann 
expressed  is  more  than  the  transient  panic  wliich  accompanies  the 
failure  of  some  few  clierished  ideas.  But  the  clause  to  wluch  we 
have  referred  should  make  those  pause  who  speak  i-ashly  of  the 
consecration  of  bishops  without  any  authority  from  tlie  Crown. 
Should  such  consecrations  take  place  (and  they  have  taken  place  in 
one  or  two  cases),  the  clergy  ordained  by  the  bisliops  thus  consecrated 
would  be  debarred  not  only  from  officiating  in  England,  but  front 
officiating  in  any  of  Her  Majesty's  dominions,  and  indeed  from 
officiating  in  any  place  whatsoever  as  ministers  of  the  Church  of 
England.  Nor,  if  it  should  be  found  necessary  to  modify  this  clause 
for  the  relief  of  the  disabilities  wliich  might  be  found  unexpectedly 
to  attach  to  clergy  whom  it  wag  never  meant  to  toucli,  is  it  at  all 


Churck  Government  in  the  Colonics.  321 

probatle  that  a  change  would  be  effected  in  the  law,  such  as  would 
give  full  validity  in  this  country  to  the  acts  of  bishops  consecrated 
with  no  better  authority  than  the  will  of  any  three  colonial  bishops 
who  might  combine  on  any  occasion  that  might  seem  good  to  them. 
It  is  conceivable  that  Parliament  might  interfere  to  relieve  from 
disabilities  those  whose  position  was  due  to  a  compliance  with  an 
authority  never  hitherto  brought  in  question.  It  is  not  conceivable 
that  it  would  interfere  to  facilitate  a  state  of  things  in  which 
colonial  bishoprics  would  be  the  offspring  of  the  will  of  irresponsible 
individuals. 

It  appears  to  us,  therefore,  that  the  effects  of  the  judgment  are 
really  confined  to  the  questiou  of  coercive  jurisdiction.  It  is  deter- 
mined that,  in  those  colonies  which  we  have  pointed  out  as  affected  by 
the  judgment,  there  is  no  power,  by  virtue  of  the  Letters^  Patent,  to 
compel  obedience.  Church  government  must  be  created  by  concili- 
ating the  free  consent  of  the  members  of  the  Church. 

III.  We  may  start  from  the  point  last  touched  upon  in  considering 
the  third  division  of  our  subject,  by  far  the  most  important,  viz.. 
What  is  now  to  be  done  ?  how  is  the  government  of  the  Church  to 
be  built  up  ?  for  this  point  opens  the  grand  question  underlying  all 
plans  which  we  may  devise,  or  wishes  which  we  may  form,  for  the 
fature  of  our  Colonial  Church.  The  question  is  this:  Is  tlie  con- 
nection between  the  Church  at  home  and  that  in  the  Colonies  to  be 
maintained  ?  If  that  connection  is  really  of  little  importance,  and  tlie 
"  freedom  of  the  Colonial  Church,"  which  is  so  frequently  and  so 
rashly  desired,  mean  its  independence  of  and  severance  from  the 
mother  Church,  the  subject  of  this  article  becomes  of  compai-atively 
small  importance  to  us  at  home.  It  only  means  then.  How  may  we 
best  disentangle  ourselves  from  all  responsibility  for  tlie  acts  of  a 
variety  of  communities  who  are  about  to  go  each  its  own  way  ?  What 
Chili  or  Mexico  are  to  Spain,  that  the  colonial  churches  are  on  this 
hypothesis  to  become  to  the  Church  of  England.  We  profe.s3  at  once 
that  we  are  not  prepared  for  this.  We  do  not  believe  that  such  a 
state  of  things  is  desired  by  tlie  soundest  and  most  thoughtful 
Churchmen,  either  at  liome  or  in  our  Colonies,  at  the  present  time: 
and,  whatever  may  be  the  evils  of  retaining  the  connection,  we  are 
persuaded  that  they  are  little  in  comparison  of  the  dangere  which 
would  resiilt  from  abandoning  it  altogether. 

Let  us  not  be  misunderstood.  We  have  no  idea  that  it  is  either 
desirable  or  possible  to  maintain  for  ever  a  perfect  unity  of  system  or 
of  government  in  the  churches  which  have  sprung  or  may  spring 
from  the  Anglican  stock.  The  time  will  doubtless  come,  as  it  has 
come  long  ago  in  America,  when  the  colonial  churches  will  become 
the  churches  of  separate  nations :  the  time  will  come  still  earlier,  as 


32  2  The  Contemporary  Review. 

it  has  come  in  Canada,  when  it  will  be  desirable  to  reduce  to  a 
minimum  the  resti-aint  exercised  from  England  over  the  churches 
which  are  actually  connected  as  branches  with  the  Established 
Church  at  home.  And  it  is  necessary  for  all  who  care  for  the  future 
of  the  Chiurch  of  England  to  prepare  for  and  facilitate  these  changes, 
which  must  inevitably  come.  But  we  believe  that  in  most  of  the 
colonies  the  time  for  them  has  not  arrived. 

The  question  of  the  "independence"  of  the  colonial  churches  ia 
sometimes,  indeed,  advocated  in  an  absolute  manner.  Nay,  the  very 
ideas  of  colonization  which  have  usually  been  current  in  this  country, 
by  whicli  a  relation  is  maintained  lietween  the  mother  country  and 
the  colony,  are  called  in  question,  and  the  "  Greek  system  of  coloniza- 
tion" is  advocated  as  superior  to  the  English.  But  those  who  argue 
thus  seem  to  foi^et  the  difference  of  times  and  of  the  present  facility 
of  communication.  A  journey  from  Marseilles  or  Trebizond  to  the 
mother  State  was  an  affair  of  great  danger  and  uncertainty:  the 
writer  of  a  letter  from  Australia  or  New  Zealand  knows  for  certain, 
that  on  the  return  of  the  regular  mail  he  wiU  receive  an  answer. 
And  this  difference  is  not  one  of  form.  The  ease  of  commuiiication 
makes  a  great  difference  in  the  views  and  habits  of  the  colonists. 
The  better  educated  and  wealthier  colonists  for  the  most  part  look 
upon  the  colony  as  a  place  in  which  they  may  sojourn  and  employ 
themselves  in  lucrative  industry,  proposing  to  themselves  to  sj^nd 
their  gains  in  England.  Nothing  would  be  more  distastefid  to  these 
men,  of  whom  the  governing  body  is  mainly  composed,  than  that  the 
connection  of  the  colony  with  the  mother  coimtry  should  be  severed ; 
and  nothing  would  be  less  advantageous  and  less  noble  on  tlie  part 
of  this  country  than  that  she  should  thus  "  exjiose  her  offspring,"  and 
refuse  to  watcli  over  the  new  field  to  which  she  lias  invited  them,  or 
to  superintend  the  growth,  the  defence,  and  the  mutual  relations  of 
the  iiew  communities.  That  fostering  care  may  be  abused,  it  is  true ; 
nay,  it  is  true  that  it  may  even  become  Imrtful  both  to  tlie  party 
wltich  is  its  object  and  also  to  the  party  exercising  it  and  claiming  a 
certain  autliority  in  consequence.  But  as  in  education  there  is  a 
mean  betwen  a  total  neglect  and  a  fettering  supervision,  and  the 
control  of  tlie  parent  must  by  degrees  iiass  into  a  freer  relation,  which 
is  a  sentiment  rather  than  an  outwai-d  bond,  so  it  is  in  the  relations 
between  the  Colonies  and  the  motlier  country.  Nor  tloes  it  follow 
that,  because  this  true  mean  has  not  always  been  obser\'ed,  the 
system  on  wliich  we  have  hitherto  gone  is  radically  wrong.  No 
doubt,  of  late  years  we  have  been  awaking  to  certain  evils  resulting 
from  a  close  connection  being  maintained  when  the  time  in  which  it 
could  be  useful  was  wearing  away,  But  we  have  no  idea  that  we 
should  have  done  so  well  by  leaving  the  infant  communities,  like  the 


Church  Government  in  the  Colonies.  323 

Greek  colonies,  unguarded,  and  liable  to  endless  subdivisions  and  to 
fratricidal  wars. 

Now  the  analogy  of  civil  government  we  believe  to  be  applicable 
to  church  government ;  and  the  ground  for  the  close  connection 
between  the  colonists  and  the  mother  country  in  church  affairs  and 
in  matters  of  civil  govermnent  is  the  same,  viz.,  that  there  is  a  real 
and  actual  dependence  of  the  one  upon  the  other.  A  theory  which 
supposes  the  church  in  a  newly  formed  colony  to  be  an  independent 
community  separate  from  the  mother  country,  is  contrary  to  the  facts 
of  the  case.  The  church  has  not  grown  out  of  the  colony ;  it  is  not 
chiefly  supported  by  the  colonists.  Tlie  bishops  are  appointed  by  the 
authorities  at  home  from  the  necessities  of  the  case,  and  both  they 
and  their  clei^,  in  many  cases,  look  forward,  to  a  time  when  they 
will  return  to  this  country.  In  some  instances,  the  clei^  are  only 
asked  to  volunteer  their  services  for  five  years ;  and  we  have  at  this 
moment  some  six  or  seven  retired  colonial  bishops  resident  in  England, 
and  some  engaged  in  active  duties.  Those  who  are  familiar  with  the 
mode  in  which  a  bishopric  is  founded  in  a  new  colony,  ought  to  be  well 
aware  that  "independence"  is,  in  such  cases,  a  very  equivocal  term. 
Some  active  bishop,  some  missionary  society,  some  charitable  indi- 
vidual in  the  mother  country,  conceives  the  idea  that  it  is  desirable  for 
the  spiritual  good  of  the  residents  in  the  colony  that  a  bishopric  should 
be  founded,  and  subscribes  the  necessary  funds.  The  Archbishop  of 
Canterbmy  and  some  other  prelates  are  consulted  in  an  informal 
manner ;  and  it  is  ascertained  that  there  will  be  no  opposition  raised 
at  the  Colonial  Office.  The  promoters  of  the  scheme  for  the  most 
part  designate  the  first  holder  of  the  bishopric,  who  will  in  such 
cases  usually  be  a  man  specially  interested  in  the  success  of  the 
scheme ;  and  Letters  Patent  are  then  obtained,  with  the  usual  powers. 
In  all  this  there  is  no  spontaneous  action  on  the  part  of  the  colonists, 
though  it  may  be  that  a  certain  number  of  them  desire  the  establish- 
ment of  the  bishopric  ;  the  fact  being,  tliat  the  wants  which  the 
scheme  is  intended  to  meet  are  not  such  as  are  strongly  felt  by  the 
members  of  a  young  and  rude  community.  The  mother  country 
here  acts  as  a  mother,  providing  for  wants  which  her  child  has  not 
yet  learned  to  appreciate.  The  colony  has  as  yet  no  capacity  for  self- 
oiganization  in  ecclesiastical  affairs ;  and  the  standing  testimony  to 
this  is  its  need  of  extraneous  support  for  its  bishop  and  clergy.  Even 
at  a  more  advanced  stage  the  colonists  have  been  found  to  prefer  to 
have  a  bishop  appointed  for  them  in  England,  when  they  might  have 
themselves  chosen  a  clergyman  of  their  own  colony. 

Now  we  contend  that  a  church  which  is  in  this  embryo  state  is  in 
no  way  capable  of  self-government — that  it  will  require  a  long  train- 
ing to  make  it  an  independent  church.     It  is  as  yet  lacking  in  the 


324  The  Contemporary  Review, 

following  necessaiy  points.  First,  as  lias  just  been  stated,  it  is  not 
self-supijorting,  and  this  implies  the  absence  of  all  the  cliecks  and 
resjKinsibilities  which  necessarily  arise  wliere  the  clergy  and  the  laity 
are  connected  together  in  their  material  interests,  and  are  dependent 
one  on  the  other.  Secondly,  it  lacks  that  great  support  of  a  church, 
or  ratlier  the  very  essence  of  it,  tlie  pi-esence  of  a  compact,  recognised, 
self-oi^nizing  body  of  laity ;  for  in  a  new  colony,  i>eopled  by  English- 
men, the  theory  of  the  mother  country,  by  which  all  men  are  boni 
jnembei-s  of  the  Church  of  Eiigland,  and  find  a  ready-made  system 
working  by  laws  and  endo«'ments,  with  but  little  assistance  from  indi- 
■v-idual  energy,  still  in  a  measure  subsists;  and  it  is  some  time  before 
they  learn  to  feel  that  they  have  to  assert  themselves  distinctively  as 
members  of  the  church,,  and  to  assist  with  money  and  with  counsel  in 
the  intwjduction  or  working  out  of  the  church  system.  And  thiiflly, 
what  is  of  ^'ast  moment,  in  the  most  delicate  points,  those  relating  to 
doctrine,  there  is  no  scope  for  public  opinion,  and  for  the  j'lay  of 
dift'erent  views  upon  any  controverted  question.  Xow  the  bisliop  and 
clei-gy  being  educated  men,  and  the  bishop  usually  far  superior  to  the 
others,  and  probably  having  chosen  them,  and  liolduig  practically 
almost  absolute  power  over  them  in  the  first  instance,  any  question 
which  may  arise  is  discussed  within  a  very  small  circle,  in  wliicli 
there  is  hardly  room  for  more  than  one  opinion.  The  bishop  then 
Ijecomes  almost  autocmtic.  Should  any  peculiarity  of  opinion  origi- 
nate with  tlie  bishop  himself,  it  almost  necessarily  canies  all  before  it, 
and  there  is  no  saying,  on  a  system  of  absolute  independence,  to  what 
lengths  it  might  go.  Should  it  arise  in  the  mind  of  another,  it  has  no 
sufficient  field  in  which  to  expand  itself,  and  in  wliich  it  may  lie  fairly 
judged.  It  nms  the  risk  of  being  crushed  out  before  the  good,  wliich 
always  hirks  even  in  the  most  extreme  opinions  if  honestly  held,  can 
have  its  infiuente  on  the  church. 

The  consequences  of  a  naiTow  system  in  a  colony  are  veiy  serious. 
The  laity  of  the  church  are  an  undefined  body,  mostly,  if  disiiosed  to 
religion,  inclining  to  the  "  Evangelical "  section  of  the  chureh.  They 
care  but  little  for  fonns  of  church  government;  and  on  the  adoption 
of  a  distasteful  attitude  by  the  bishop  and  clergy,  tliey  quietly  lajise 
into  dissent.  These  are  no  imaginary  dangers,  but  are  suggestetl  and 
l)rought  home  to  us  by  the  cases  whicli  the  Bishop  of  Capetown  has 
raised  in  the  assertion  of  his  authority.  In  the  case  of  llr.  I^)ng,  the 
([uestion  turned  upon  the  assertion  of  the  kind  of  independence  we 
are  here  speaking  of.  The  Bishop  demands  that  a  Synod  shall  be 
cjiUed  to  represent  "  the  Church  of  South  Africa  in  communion  witli 
the  Church  of  England."  Mr.  Long  and  others  object  to  this,  on  the 
ground  that  the  title  is  illegal,  as  involving  the  assertion  of  a  position 
outside  tlie  Church  of  England,  to  which  church  they  consider  that 


Church  Government  in  the  Colonies.  325 

they  owe  allegiance.  The  Bishop  insists  that  this  title  shall  he  adopted, 
on  his  sole  authority,  in  the  notice  calling  the  Synod,  and,  on  Mr. 
Long's  refusing  to  give  the  notice,  deprives  him  of  hia  living  as  a 
schismatic*  Here,  then,  is  a  double  danger  before  us — first,  the 
demand  for  an  autocratic  authority  on  tlie  part  of  the  Bishop,  wliich 
is  gi-ounded  neither  on  law  nor  on  consent,  but  on  the  fancied  rights 
of  a  bishop,  -per  se ;  and  secondly,  the  exercise  of  this  authority  in  the 
formation  of  a  church  wliJch  is  separate  from,  though  for  the  present 
in  communion  with,  the  Church  of  England. 

Now  it  might  have  seemed  tliat  Jlr.  Long,  and  the  other  clergymen 
who  -with  him  objected  to  tlie  calling  of  tlie  Synod  of  the  Church  of 
South  Africa,  had  raised  a  dispute  on  a  mere  name,  and  that  it  was 
hardly  worth  while  to  contest  the  designation  of  the  church,  there 
being  practically  no  danger  of  evil  consequences  from  the  assumption 
of  an  irregular  title.  But  the  case  of  the  Bishop  of  Natal  has  brouglit 
the  matter  directly  to  an  issue,  showing  tliat  a  very  practical  mean- 
ing is  assigned  by  the  Bishop  of  Capetown  to  the  distinctive  title, 
and  also  giving  illusti-ations  on  both  sides  of  the  length  to  which  the 
divei^ent  tendencies  would  cany  these  petty  churches  if  their 
absolute  independence  should  be  allowed.  Tlie  Bishop  of  Capetown 
distinctly  asserts  that  he  is  not  to  be  Iwxmd  by  tlie  decisions  pro- 
nounced in  the  Court  of  Appeal  of  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbiu-y ; 
and  lie  claims  also  that  there  shall  be  no  right  of  appeal  whatever 
from  his  authority.  He  allowed,  indeed,  in  the  special  case  of  the 
Bishop  of  Natal,  an  apjieal  to  the  Archbishop  himself ;  but  he  dis- 
tinctly and  avowedly  decided  the  questions  on  which  the  Bishop  of 
Natal  was  aiTaigned,  in  defiance  of  the  decisions  of  the  Archbishop's 
Court  of  Arches.  And  whereas  the  law  of  England  gives  all  English 
Churchmen,  "for  lack  of  justice,"  a  right  of  appeal  to  the  CroM'u  fiimi 
the  decisions  of  the  Archbishop,  he  demands  that  causes  shall  not  go 
for  appeal  beyond  the  province  of  South  Africa. 

These  points,  as  regards  the  method  of  judging  of  the  doctrinal 
issues  involved,  require  to  be  stated  a  little  more  in  detail.  The 
recognised  principle  of  the  English  law  in  these  ecclesiastical  suits  is, 
that  a  man  shall  be  judged  by  tlie  written  standards  of  the  Church 
of  England,  and  by  these  alone.  The  Bishop  of  Capetown,  on  the 
contrary,  in  hia  judgment,  while  recognising  our  formularies  as  his 
first  standard,  declared  "  that  he  tUd  not  mean  to  imply  that  these 
were  the  only  tests  by  which  the  bishops  of  the  South  African  Church 
should  try  the  teaching  of  its  ministers."  Not  only  did  he  consider 
the  decisions  of  those  councils,  which  the  Church  of  England  regarded 

*  In  speaking  of  Mr.  Long'a  protest  against  hia  assumed  jurisdirtion,  tha  Bishop  of 
Capetown  says,—"  To  put  in  such  a  document  is  virtually  to  reject  Episcopacy  and  the 
Church,  and  to  step  <ai  the  very  conges  of  schum,  if  not  to  hare  orentepped  the  line." 


326  The  Contemporary  Review. 

as  cecumenical  (it  being,  however,  well  known  that  neither  the  Church 
nor  any  argument  of  her  chief  writers  have  settled  which  are  cecu- 
rnenical,  or  what  authority  oecmneiiical  councils  possess),  might  be 
inflicted  as  a  penal  statute  upon  English  clergymen ;  i.  e.,  that  any 
canon  of  these  councils  which  an  investigator  of  church  history  might 
bring  to  light,  could  be  made  the  cause  of  deprivation ;  but  further, 
"  the  received  faith  of  the  Chimjh  in  all  ages,  even  though  not  defined 
by  any  council,  if  it  can  be  ascertained — as,  for  example,  on  such  a 
question  as  inspiration  in  connection  with  the  Holy  Scriptures, — must 
also- be  a  guide  to  them  which  cannot  be  disregarded."  It  is  plain 
tliat  the  result  of  the  adoption  of  this  method  of  judgment  would 
be,  that  any  exa^eration,  or  even  delusion,  which  may  have  won 
its  way  into  popular  acceptance — like  that  of  Transubstantiation 
in  the  Church  before  the  Iteformation,  or  of  the  Immaculate  Con- 
ception in  the  modem  Church  of  Home — is,  even  before  its  autho- 
ritative recognition  as  an  article  of  faith,  to  be  made  the  standard  by 
wliich  a  clergyman  may  be  condemned.  The  Bishop  consents  to  be 
guided  by  an  undefinable  standard.  On  the  other  hand,  when  the 
plain  decision  of  the  Court  of  the  Archbishop,  to  whom  he  is  subject 
by  the  instrument  of  his  appointment,  stands  in  the  way  of  his  own 
opinion,  he  simply  thrusts  it  aside.  In  dealing  with  the  question  of 
the  liberty  to  criticise  portions  of  the  Biblical  narrative,  he  is  met  by 
the  fact  that  the  Court  of  Arches  has  given  this  liberty  in  a  grave 
case  recently  decided.  The  Bishop  of  Capetown  recognises  this  as 
the  decision  of  "  a  high  authority,"  but  observes,  "  I  cannot  concur  in 
this  decision.  It  is  a  \vrong  to  the  Church  thus  to  limit  the  meaning 
and  diminish  the  force  of  its  plaui  language."  And  he  proceeds  to 
condemn  tlie  Bishop  of  Natal  for  holding  that  the  Pentateuch  was 
not  \vritten  by  Moses.  So  also,  in  the  case  of  more  subtle  questions, 
which  have  not  received  any  authoritative  decision,  and  which  the  best 
divines  of  our  Church  have  approached  with  diffidence,  and  an  unwil- 
lingness to  take  up  a  decided  position  on  eitlier  side,  he  has  no  difficulty 
in  erecting  his  own  view  into  the  standard  of  penal  judgiuent.  Such 
a  question  pre-eminently  is  that  of  the  weight  to  be  attributed  to  our 
Lord's  allusions  to  matters  which  have  since  become  the  subjects  of 
criticism, — a  question  on  which  the  authority  of  Jeremy  Taylor,  as 
quoted  by  Bishop  Thirlwall  in  reference  to  this  very  controversy, 
clearly  inclines  to  the  side  asserted  by  Bishop  Colenso,  though  with  a 
warning  that  it  led  into  insoluble  mysteries.  The  Bishop  of  Cape- 
town, on  the  contrary,  has  no  difficulty  in  solving  the  question.  One 
side  alone  is  permissible  with  him.  To  argue  that  our  Ixjrd's  autho- 
rity is  not  to  be  quoted  in  matters  of  which  his  contemporaries  were 
ignorant,  is  with  him  flat  Neatorianism,  to  be  driven  from  the  Church. 
But  even  in  points  on  which  great  authorities  of  the  Church  of 


Church  Government  in  the  Colonies.  327 

Ei^land  have  expressed  a  distinct  opinion,  the  Bishop  of  Capetown  is 
not  hindered  from  making  the  opposite  opinion  the  rule  of  his  judg- 
ment. The  most  learned  prelate  of  our  Church,  two  years  ago,  in 
dealing  with  the  report  of-  Convocation  on  Bishop  Colenso's  work, 
strove  to  impress  upon  his  clergy  that  the  distinction  drawn  in  that 
work  between  the  Bible  and  the  Word  of  God  is  tenable,  and  that  it  is 
in  accordance  with  the  usage  both  of  the  New  Testament  and  of  our  own 
formularies.  The  Bishop  of  Capetown  has  liefore  him  tlie  words  which 
gave  occasion  to  these  remarks,  and  whicli  are  as  follows : — "  The  Bible 
is  not  in  itself  God's  word,  but  assuredly  (Jod's  word  will  be  heard  in 
the  Bible  by  aU  who  will  humbly  and  de^-outly  listen  for  it."  But  he 
decides  that  "  it  is  not  lawful  to  say  that  tliey  (the  Scriptures)  in  such 
wise  contain  the  word  of  God  as  not  themselves  to  be  the  M'ord  of  God." 
We  are  in  no  way  concerned  to  pronounce  a  judgment  of  our  own 
upon  these  points;  tlie  judgment  upon  matters  wliich  agitate  the 
whole  Church  of  England  must,  in  due  coui-se,  be  pronounced  by  her 
central  judicial  authority.  But  we  are  not  prepared  to  see  these 
momentous  questions  rashly  decided  by  a  tribimal  which  doubtfully 
represents  a  small  section  of  the  Church,  wliich  itself  selects  the 
standard  for  the  definition  of  offences,  and  which  claims  to  be  without 
appeal.  The  illustrations  which  we  have  g'ven  sliow  clearly  the 
dangers  entailed  by  such  a  course,  and  the  divergence  already  begun 
between  the  Church  of  England  and  the  new  Church  of  South  Africa: 
Those  Churchmen  whom  the  Court  of  Arches  acquits,  and  who  have 
therefore  a  settled  standing  in  every  English  diocese,  if  they  should 
venture  into  the  diocese  of  Capetown,  the  Bishop  would  proscribe 
and  banish  as  heretics.  A  man  may  l)e  a  bishop  and  revered  teacher 
in  England  while  he  is  a  heretic  at  Capetown ! 

On  the  other  side  we  find  tlie  Bishop  of  Natal,  by  his  words  if 
not  by  his  deeds,  giving  us  a  glimpse  of  what  we  might  expect 
from  unrestrained  liberty  in  other  directions.  In  the  i)reface  to 
the  first  volmne'  of  liis  work  on  the  Pentateuch,  he  declared  that 
lie  could  never  use  the  Baptismal  Service  of  our  Church,  nor  ask 
Uie  questions  which  the  Ordination  Service  places  in  the  mouth 
of  the  bishop.  We  are  aware  that  he  has  since  explained  and 
modified  this  statement;  but,  with  every  wish  to  be  impartial,  we 
cannot  but  see  in  such  an  assertion  a  suggestion  of  the  kind  of 
dangers  to  which  the  Colonial  Church  woiUd  be  subjected  under  the 
system  of  absolute  independence  so  eagerly  desired  by  some  good  men. 
If  the  Bishop  of  Natal's  present  tendencies  had  been  somewhat 
more  developed  at  an  earlier  stage,  and  it  had  been  laid  down 
as  a  maxim  that  his  church  was  an  independent  community,  owing 
no  allegiance  to  the  Church  of  England,  he  would  liave  found  him- 
self bishop  of  a  very  small  band  of  clergy,  each  of  them,  possibly. 


328  The  Contemporary  Review. 

aiii>(jiiiteJ  by  himself  and  under  his  uncontrolled  authority.  What 
(U\tjrgence  might  we  not  have  had,  what  abandonment  of  the  doc- 
trine and  usages  of  the  Church  of  England,  in  such  a  case !  And 
yet,  in  tlie  face  of  the  facts  whicli  render  this  danger  so  palpable,  we 
find  a  number  of  well-meaning  men  proposing,  as  a  remedy  for  the 
existing  evils,  to  clear  away  all  the  checks  and  restraints  by  which 
such  dangers  may  be  avoided,  and  to  render  any  petty  knot  of  clergy 
with  a  bishop  at  their  head,  who  may  hereafter  be  sent  out  from  this 
country,  free  to  peri^trate  and  inflict  upon  the  Churchmen  in  the 
colony  to  which  they  may  be  sent,  any  foolish  change  or  tyrannical 
enactment  in  which  they  may  be  able  to  agree. 

"We  repeat,  we  liave  no  wish  to  bind  the  daughter  churches  for 
ever  to  the  exact  rules  of  worsliip  or  discipline  which  are  adopted  at 
home.  But  until  they  have  grown  to  maturity,  they  must  be,  in  some 
degree,  under  tutelage. 

Kow  it  may  be  said  that  the  case  of  the  Bishop  of  Natal  is  so 
peculiar  that  it  is  not  likely  to  recur.  We  cannot  be  sure  of  this  in 
a  time  when  ]JibUcal  studies,  such  as  those  in  which  he  has  lost  hia 
way,  are  but  in  their  infancy  among  Anglican  Churchmen.  But  is 
there  but  one  fonn  of  this  danger  ?  If  we  look  at  the  conduct  of  the 
Bishoj)  of  Capetown,  we  find  the  hierarcliical  spirit  developing  itself 
in  the  strongest  msmner.  No  freedom  of  thought  or  action  could 
exist  under  tlie  system  which  he  advocates.  And  if  we  look  back 
over  the  hiatoiy  of  the  Church,  it  would  be  very  difficult  for  Protest- 
ants to  say  that  tlie  wild,  unrestrained  thoughts  of  individuals  have 
done  so  much  harm  as  that  overbearing  of  the  individual  will  by 
arbitrary  power  or  lo^'e  of  systematizing  which  the  Bishop  of  Cape- 
town would  introduce  into  the  colonial  churches.  We  are  by  no 
means  ready  to  fly  from  one  danger  into  the  arms  of  another  equally 
great.  But  the  plan  of  unrestrained  liberty  in  the  Colonial  Churcli 
would  leave  us  a  prey  to  both. 

We  say  deliberately,  would  leave  u^;  for  the  Church  at  home 
cannot  but  be  drawn  into  the  dispute.  It  is  thought  by  some  an 
easy  thing  to  leave  the  colonial  churches  to  themselves.  But  how 
leave  them  to  themselves  ?  We  must  repeat  that  they  do  not  stand 
alone.  Suppose  the  Bisliop  of  Capetown  to  proceed  as  he  proposes, 
and  to  foUuw  out  his  so-called  deposition  of  the  Bishop  of  Natal  by 
appointing  a  new  bishop,  who  should  be  consecrated  by  himself  and 
the  two  missionaiy  bishops  whom  he  has  a])pointed.  At  once  the 
church  in  Natal  would  be  divided :  for  this  the  "  party  of  action  "  seem 
to  be  quite  pi-epared.  They  are  not  willing  that  the  difference  should 
lie  decided  by  English  law,  but  are  ready  to  take  the  matter  into  their 
own  hands,  and  decide  it  by  their  own  wOls.  But  to  which  of  these 
parties  are  wc  at  home  to  adliere  ?     To  whom  are  llie  endowments 


Church  Government  in  the  Colonies.  329 

which  have  been  given  by  English  Churchmen,  and  are  administered 
by  bishops  and  other  functionaries  at  home,  to  !»  assigned  ?  We  are 
already  feeling  the  first  waves  of  this  sea  of  troubles  in  the  case  of  the 
Bishop  of  Natal'a  application  to  the  Council  for  Colonial  Bishoprics. 
And  we  may  be  thankful  that  in  this  case  the  matter  Avill  be  decided 
by  the  Master  of  the  Rolls,  in  a  well-weighed  judgment.  If,  as  seems 
probable,  this  judgment  should  assign  the  temporalities  to  the  Bishop 
of  Natal,  it  is  proposed,  by  the  Bishop  of  Capetown  and  his  friends, 
that  this  shoidd  be  borne  as  a  kind  of  infliction,  which,  however,  will 
in  no  wise  change  their  course  in  setting  up  a  rival  bishop.  Then 
which  of  these  two  parties  will  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the 
Gosijel,  and  other  Church  societies  at  liome,  support  ?  The  one  will 
have  the  legal  right,  the  other  probably  the  obedience  of  the  majority 
of  the  clergy ;  and  the  contributors  to  the  charities  at  home  will  be 
called  upon  to  decide  a  matter  which,  it  is  supposed,  cannot  be  safely 
left  to  the  highest  tribunal  of  this  country.  Thus  the  strife  en- 
gendered abroad  must  necessarily  be  decided  at  home. 

The  case  which  has  provoked  these  comments  is  one  which  is  com- 
plicated by  the  peculiar  position  assumed  by  Bishop  Colenso.  His 
opinions  have  found  but  scanty  sympathy,  even  among  those  who 
might  be  supposed  to  lean  most  towards  his  \'iews.  But  liad  Mr. 
Maurice  been  sent  to  Natal  in  1853,  instead  of  one  who  was  then  his 
admirer  and  intimate  friend,  he  would  equally  have  fallen  under  the 
sentence  of  the  Bishop  of  Capetown,  and  the  sympathy  evoked  in  this 
country  would  have  been  ten  times  greater.  If  the  Bishop  of  Exeter 
had  stood  towards  Mr.  Gorham,  fifteen  years  ago,  in  the  relation  in 
which  Dr.  Gray  stands  to  Dr.  Colenso,  the  Gorham  case,  instead  of 
being  gravely  decided  by  law,  woidd  have  been  the  cause  of  a  schism 
of  which  no  one  could  tell  the  end ;  and  the  two  greatest  religious 
parties  in  this  country  would  have  been  supporting,  to  this  day,  two 
rival  communions ;  and  every  platform,  and  every  collecting- box. 
Would  bear  the  curse  of  religious  animosity. 

Now  we  cannot  but  think  that  the  evil  which  is  thus  tlireatened  is 
just  one  for  which  the  simple  remedy  is  to  be  found  in  the  existing 
System,  by  which  recourse  is  had  to  a  well-known  course  of  law,  and 
in  the  last  resort  to  the  Sovereign  in  Council. 

In  those  colonies  in  which  the  Letters  Patent  are  valid,  the  course 

^^liich  appeals  should  take  is  clearly  described :  as,  for  instance,  in 

*^he  case  of  the  diocese  of  Gibraltar,  to  which  most  of  the  others  are 

sijnilar.     "  If,"  says  this  document,  "  any  party  shall  conceive  himself 

**ggrieved  by  any  judgment,  decree,  or  sentence,  pronouuced  by  the 

■bishop  of  Gibraltar  or  his  successors,     ...     it  shall  be  lawful  for 

tbe  said  party  to  appeal  to  the  said  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  or  his 

Succeasore,  who  shall  finally  decide  and  determine  the  said  appeal." 

VOL.  1.  z 


330  Tlie  Contemporary  Review. 

The  expression  "finally"  would  appear  to  show  that  it  was  thought 
that  the  framer  of  these  letters  meant  to  make  the  Court  of  Appeal  of 
the  province  of  Canterbury  the  ultimate  resort.  The  statute  of  appeals 
and  submission  of  the  clei^  (25  Hen.  VIII.,  c.  19),  which  is  quotedia 
the  Natal  Judgment,  gives  a  right  of  appeal  to  the  Crown  from  the 
Archbishop's  Court,  which  it  is  evident  that  the  Judicial  Committee 
of  Privy  Council  would  receive.  In  cases  therefore  like  that  of 
Gibraltar,  the  course  of  law  is  plainly  marked ;  nor  could  it  be 
changed  without  grave  reason.  AVe  have  seen  that  this  class  of 
Letters  Patent  is  very  cousiderable. 

In  some  of  the  Letters  Patent  which  have  now  been  pronounced 
invalid,  similar  regulations  are  made.  In  the  cases  of  Canada,  South 
Africa,  and  Australia,  the  appeals  from  the  suffragan  bishops  to  the 
Metropolitan  are  to  be  finally  detennined  by  him;  in  the  case  of 
New  Zealand  the  decisions  of  the  iletropolitan  are  subject  to  a 
further  appeal  to  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury;  and  in  all  cases  the 
Colonial  Metropolitans  hold  their  offices  subject  to  the  general  super- 
intendence (whatever  this  may  be  held  to  mean)  of  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury ;  and  in  every  proceeding  originally  instituted  before  the 
Metropolitan  himself,  an  appeal  is  allowed  to  the  Archbishop. 

It  is  hardly  worth  discussing  what  would  have  been  the  course 
of  law. under  these  provisions,  since  the  Letters  Patent  themselves 
have  been,  in  all  these  cases,  pronounced  invalid  so  far  as  jurisdiction 
is  concerned.  It  is,  however,  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  the  Letters 
Patent  have  no  force  at  all.  The  judgment  now  under  review  "  grants 
or  assumes"  that  the  Letters  Patent  at  CapetoL^Ti  were  "sufficient 
in  law  to  confer  on  Dr.  Gray  the  ecclesiastical  status  of  Metropolitan, 
and  to  create  between  him  and  the  Bishop  of  Natal  and  Graham's  Town 
the  personal  relation  of  Metropolitan  and  suffragan  as  ecclesiastics." 
Wliat  it  denies  is  that  the  Letters  Patent  give  any  power  to  enforce 
this  relation  by  coercion.  Nor  is  it  denied  that  there  is  power  among 
the  members  of  a  colonial  church  to  bind  themselves  together  by 
contract.  The  judgment,  indeed,  in  dealing  with  the  argument  that 
Bishop  Colenso,  in  taking  tlie  oath  of  canonical  obedience,  gave  juris- 
diction to  Bishop  Gray  by  voluntary  submission,  says,  "  Even  if  the 
parties  intended  to  enter  into  any  such  agreement "  (i.  e.,  by  the 
administration  and  acceptance  of  the  oath  of  canonical  obedience, 
couched  in  the  ordinary  terms),  "  it  was  not  legally  comi>etent  to  the 
Bishop  of  Natal  to  give,  or  to  the  Bishop  of  Capetown  to  accept  or 
exercise,  any  such  jurisdiction."  But  here  again  it  is  "jurisdiction" 
in  the  formal  sense  which  is  denied.  That  there  is  a  power  to  make 
a  contract  is  not  denied ;  and  it  is,  on  the  contrary,  asserted  in  the 
Long  Judgment,  to  the  principles  of  which  the  Natal  Judgment  gives 
its  adherence.     "The  members  of  the  Church  of  England,"  says  that 


Church  Government  in  the  Colonies.  331 

document,  "  may  adopt,  as  the  members  of  any  other  commimion  may 
adopt,  roles  for  enforcing  discipline  within  their  body,  which  will  be 
binding  on  those  who,  expressly  or  by  implication,  assent  to  them." 
It  further  admits  that  where,  by  agreement,  a  tiibunal  has  been  cou- 
stitnted  to  determine  whether  the  rules  agreed  upon  have  been  vio- 
lated, and  what  shall  be  the  consequence  of  such  violation,  the 
decision  of  such  tribunal  will  be  binding  if  it  has  acted  justly,  and  the 
Courts  of  Law  will  give  effect  to  its  decisions.  There  is  here,  as  is 
explained,  no  jurisdiction,  and  the  decision  of  the  church  tribunal 
is  comparable  merely  to  that  of  arbitrators  in  an  ordinary  con- 
tract. 

We  have  an  instance  of  the  exercise  of  this  power  in  the  com- 
pact sign^  by  the  bishops  and  clergy  of  New  Zealand.  It  is  as 
follows : — 

"  All  officebearers  (clei^  included)  holding  appointments  under  the 
General  Synod,  shall  be  liable  to  be  deposed  or  suspended  by  the 
General  S}-nod,  if  from  any  cause  whatever  the  General  Synod  shall 
consider  it  expedient  to  exercise  such  power;  and  such  clergyman 
shall,  when  deposed,  ipso  facto  cease  to  hold  his  office  and  receive  its 
emoluments.  The  General  Synod  shall  establish  a  tribunal  in  New 
Zealand  for  all  questions  of  doctrine  and  discipline,  and  also  a  court 
of  appeal  from  the  decisions  of  such  tribunal." 

And  the  following  is  the  declaration  signed  by  every  person  accept- 
ing office  under  the  General  Synod : — 

"  I  do  declare  my  submission  to  the  authority  of  the  General  Sj-nod  of  the 
liranch  of  the  United  Church  of  England  and  Ireland  in  New  Zealand,, 
estahliahed  by  the  constitution  ^reed  on  the  I3th  day  of  June,  1857,  and  to 
all  the  provisions  of  the  said  constitution ;  and  I  further  consent  to  be 
T»und  by  all  regulations  which  may  from  time  to  time  be  issued  by  autho- 
rity of  the  said  Synod ;  and  I  hereby  undertake,  in  consideration  of  being 

appointed  to ,  to  immediately  resign  my  appointment,  and  all  rights 

and  endowments  thereof,  whenever  I  shall  be  called  upon  to  do  so  by  the 
General  Synod,  or  any  person  or  persons  lawfully  acting  under  the  authority 
of  the  General  Synod  in  that  behalf." 

The  rights  of  members  of  the  Established  Church  are  no  doubt, 
somewhat  peculiar;  and  it  may  be  doubted  whether  any  body  of' 
clergymen  have  a  right  to  agree  among  themselves  to  be  governed  by 
rules  inconsistent  with  their  position  as  members  of  that  Church. 
But  if  contracts  be  made  in  conformity  with  the  laws  of  the  Church, 
they  would  be  enforced  by  the  Courts  of  Law.  Nevertheless,  as  it 
appears  to  us,  these  contracts  are  somewhat  insecure ;  and,  inasmuch 
as  they  must  depend  on  the  laws  and  the  relative  duties  of  members 
of  the  Established  Church  of  England,  it  is  very  doubtful  whether, 
in  any  case,  the  appeal  to  the  Crown  could  be  barred:  indeed  it 
appears  to  be  distinctly  claimed  by  the  closing  paragraph  of  the  judg- 


OJ' 


The  Contetnpomry  Rnnnv, 


nient  which  wr  are  now  reviewing,  in  which  tJic  Court  aesign  their 
rejisons  lor  tailing  co^iizance  of  the  iietition  of  the  Bishop  of  Natal.  We 
mai'k  by  numbers  the  separate  ju^meuts  which  are  here  coinbined?- 

"  (L)  TliLi  important  qviestion  can  only  Itc  ileciileil  Ly  th<!  SftveTcign,  aa 
head  of  th^^  EstfibLisTiL'i!  Chm'ii;h,  ami  df'positary  of  tlie  ultimate  tLppellate 
jurisdiction.  Ki^fnw  tlie  rfL'formation,  in  a  clispnte  of  this  nntnre  lifttwoen 
two  iiide|n?ndent  prL-latPS,  an  appeal  wnuld  have  lain  to  the  I'npe  ;  hat  all 
apitellate  authority  of  tin;  I'upe  over  members  of  tliu  liatubliaheLl  Church  is 
by  etntute  vested  iii  the  CixiWn.  (3.)  It  is  the  settled  prtirogative  of  the 
CrrtxtTi  to  rocoivo  apponls  in  all  cololual  oauses;  and  (3)  by  the  25th  nf 
Hen.  Vni.,  cnp.  19  (by  which  the  mode  of  appnal  to  the  Crown  in  ecdeei- 
aatical  cjiuse^s  it)  deciik'd),  it  is  by  the  fourth  Eoction  enacted  that,  'for  lacfc 
of  justice  at  or  in  any  of  the  conrts  of  the  arcbbiahojjs;  of  this  re^lni,  or  in 
any  of  the  King's  doniiJUoits,  it  shall  be  Uwlul  ty  thy  piirtics  grieved  tu 
appeal  to  the  King'a  Maj"?))ty  in  the  Court  of  Chancery,' — 'an  enactment  wluch 
gave  ria*}  to  the  Commissi t'li  i>f  Delegates,  for  wliich  this  tribunal  is  now 
subtitytod.  (4.)  Unless  n  controversy,  such  as  thtit  wliich  \%  presented  by 
thi^  Appi^l  and  Petition,  I'lills  tc  be  determinod  by  the  ultimate  jarisdiction 
of  tlie  Crown,  it  is  plain  tliat  tlu'tc  would  l>u  u  duuiiil  of  justicQ,  and  no 
rem(;dy  for  yrcat  incunveuiunce  mid  niifwihicf.  (5.)  It  is  riyht  to  add, 
althomnh  uimuces&iiry,  that  by  the  A<-t  3  A  4  William  IV.,  i:,ip.  41,  which 
constituted  this  tiihunal,  Her  Majesty  has  pc^wtir  to  refer  to  the  JndiL-iaJ 
Committee,  for  hearing  or  RonsidcmtioUj  ony  sucli  other  inatterfi  whateoever 
as  ller  Majesty  ^hall  think  ht,  and  this  Committer  \&  Uiurcupon  tu  hoar 
consider  the  ainip,  and  to  ndviso  Her  Majesty  thereon." 


It  ia  manif&st  from  this,  that  whatever  doubt  there  may  Ite  wliethj 
the  internal  nffkirs  of  the  cob^nial  churches  can  be  brought  within" 
the  ordinary  course  of  English  luiclesidstical  Law  (though  the  Letters 
Patent  in  certain  cases,  e.  t^.,  New  Zeftland,  order  that  juriadictioi^B 
ahoiJd  bo  exercised  according  to  the  Ecclesi/wtiiMil  Laws  of  Enyland. 
which  are  biwfully  made  and  received  in  Enghmd);  yet  the  appeal  to 
tlie  Crown  is  the  recognised  right  of  every  member  of  the  Unite^^f 
Church,  in  whatever  way  his  rights  as  a  Churt'hmau  may  be  aftccted. 
In  cases  where  two  bishops,  or  a  bishop  and  a  clergyman,  are  at  issu^ 
if  there  is  no  contract,  the  matter  is  similar  to  that  in  which  thdH 
appeal  or  petition  is  recognised  by  the  Natal  Judgment:  if  there  is  a' 
contmct,  it  falls  under  the  class  of  cases  dealt  with  in  the  appeal  of 
Mr.  Long.  The  appeal  of  Mr.  Long  was,  iodeed,  not  from  the  sen- 
tence of  the  bishop,  but  from  that  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  tlie  Colony ; 
but  in  the  coiuBO  of  that  appeal  the  whole  question  of  the  government 
of  the  churcli  in  the  culony  necessarUy  came  imder  review^  and  the 
point  on  which  tlie  matter  actually  turned  was  whether  the  Bishop 
had  deprived  Mr.  Long  "for  any  lawful  cause  ;  that  is,  far  such  cause 
as  (liaving  regard  to  any  differences  wliich  may  arise  from  the  cir- 
cumatancea  of  the  colony)  would  authorize  the  dejirivation  of  a  clei 
man  by  hia  bishop  in  England."  Had  the  case  been  one  not 
discipline  but  of  morals  or  of  doctrine,  this  mode  of  judging  the  ease 


J 


Church  Government  in  the  Colonies.  333 

would  have  brought  in  the  principal  matter  at  issue,  and  not  merely 
the  formal  question  whether  the  rules  of  a  small  and  arbitrarily 
formed  society  had  been  observed.  But  even  if  this  could  not  be 
done,  it  seems  clear  that  the  court  would  have  received  an  appeal  on 
the  principal  cause  itself.  It  may  indeed  be  attempted,  by  the  agree- 
ment whi(^  binds  together  the  members  of  the  church,  to  subject  their 
affairs  to  a  merely  arbitrary  authority.  But  this  is  all  but  impossible 
in  a  body  which  begins  by  professing  itself  a  branch  of  the  Church  of 
England,  which  church  is  recognised  by  English  law.  The  case  of 
Mr.  Long  illustrates  this.  It  would  hardly  be  possible,  with  any 
proper  decency  and  fairness  between  the  contracting  parties,  to  frame 
a  licence  in  terms  more  one-sided  than  that  which  was  held  by  Mr. 
Long.  The  Bishop  by  that  licence  "reserved  to  himself  and  his  succes- 
sors fuU  power  to  revoke  these  presents,  and  all  things  therein  con- 
tained, whenever  he  or  they  should  see  just  cause  so  to  do."  Yet  it 
was  on  these  very  terms  ttiat  the  arbitrary  action  of  the  Bishop  of 
Capetown  was  reversed  by  the  Privy  Council.  And  similarly  in  the 
New  Zealand  declaration  just  quoted,  the  terms  of  which  appear  to 
give  such  absolute  power  to  the  Synod,  or  the  tribunal  appointed  by 
it,  we  observe  with  pleasure  that  the  Synod  has  no  power  to  diveige 
from  liie  standards  of  the  Church  of  England,  and  that  any  action  of 
its  tribunals  must  be  that  of  "  persons  lawfully  acting  under  its  autho- 
rity." The  case,  then,  as  to  consensual  compacts  may  be  stated  thus : 
The  members  of  the  Church  of  England  have  power  to  biod  them- 
selves together ;  but  the  rules  by  which  they  bind  themselves  must 
be  those  of  the  church  itself.  Though  in  a  colony,  they  are  Church- 
men still,  and  the  church  is  not  to  be  narrowed  to  a  sect  by  the 
arbitrary  action  of  its  members.  And  against  any  attempt  so  to 
nartow  her,  the  right  of  appeal  to  the  Crown  is  our  surest  guarantee, 
— a  right  which  is  not  barred  by  the  substitution  of  voluntary  com- 
psctB  for  the  supposed  authority  of  the  Letters  Patent,  but  for  which 
the  compacts  give  an  additional  channel  through  the  civil  courts  of 
the  colony. 

There  are  two  objections  urged  against  this  right  of  appeal, — the 
one  on  the  ground  of  expense  and  inconvenience,  the  other  on  that  of 
principl&  "It  is  tyranny,"  says  the  one,  "to  require  that  causes 
should  be  brought  from  all  ends  of  the  world  to  London."  "  It  is  a 
violation  of  church  rights,"  says  the  other,  "  that  a  Metropolitan  should 
have  to  maintain  his  authority  before  a  tribunal  nominated  by  the 
Crown,  and  chiefly  composed  of  laymen."  Now  to  this  last  objection 
we  cannot  here  reply  at  length.  The  question  which  it  raises  has 
been  much  argued  of  late.  We  shall  content  ourselves  with  saying 
Uiat  it  appears  to  ns  that  little  can  be  gained  by  ai^uing  on  abstract 
i%hts  in  such  a  ques^n.  TJie  two  great  requisites  in  a  supreme  court  of 


334 


The  Contemporary  Revieiv. 


law  ai-c, — lat,  that  it  should  be  absolutely  impartial,  deciding  accord- 
ing to  strict  le^ral  justice,  and  not  aMonliug  to  considemtions  of  policy 
yr  by  tlie  desire  of  popularity ;  and  2ndly,  tliiit  it  skiDuId  be  tliorouyhly 
well  informed  and  competeut  to  judge  of  the  uiattera  iu  liand.  If  tic 
jiresimt  coiirts  do  not  fulfil  these  conditions,  it  is  most  desirable  that 
tliey  aliould  be  reformed.  But  it  iippears  to  us  that  the  auj^ust  body 
before  whicli  the  cases  of  Mr.  Oorhain  or  Mr.  Liddell  i^ere  tried,  is 
one  for  which  it  would  be  extremely  dilficidt  to  fmd  a  substitute: 
aud  it  is  uot  a  little  remarkable  thatj  wherever  the  question  of  chauge 
haa  been  discussed,  every  court  which  hiis  heeu  projtoscd  as  a  substi- 
tute for  the  preseut  haa  faDed  to  cniTy  the  general  couasut,  antl  haa 
been  abandoned  as  more  objectionable  than  the  present  court;  so  that 
the  advocates  of  the  court  as  it  is  now  may  claim  fur  it  the  position 
of  Themistoclea,  in  gaiDiiig  every  man's  second  vote.  Now,  if  the 
Privy  Council  be  a  lit  court  for  ecclesiastical  apjieals  at  home,  it  is 
certainly  fitted  for  those  which  come  from  the  Colonies,  beinjj  thi^^ 
Special  court  of  appeal  for  all  colonial  causes,  ^H 

Is  it  then  true  to  argue  that  it  ig  a  gi-eat  liatilship  tliat  causes 
should  be  brought  from  the  Colouieg  to  the  appeal  court  at  home  ? 
The  general  iiroposition  can  hardly  be  maintained  wliile  all  the  Colo- 
nies carry  their  appeals  to  the  Crown  in  temporal  causes;  and  the 
object  to  be  attained  in  tliese  is  far  leas  than  in  ecclesiastical  afl'aits, 
for  the  Clmrck  rer^uires  to  be  kept  more  closely  uiiilfid  than  tlie 
clitferent  eomiuunities  which  compose  our  vast  empire.  It  is  said, 
indeed,  that  there  is  dang^ei'  of  our  ecclesiaatical  system  thus  becominy 
a  Papacy;  aud  that  the  worst  abuse  of  the  Papacy  was  the  carrying 
of  appeals  to  Rome.  Eut  we  must  distinguish  between  the  really 
important  causes  ivlijch  come  on  appeal  before  the  Privy  Council  and 
tlie  endless  and  vuxatious  suits  in  private  afl'airs  wliich  were  carried 
to  Rome  in  old  times  for  the  aake  of  the  gain  which  ecclesiastics  and 
ecclesiastical  la^vyera  made  by  them.  That  every  petty  suit  of  matri- 
mony, or  of  wills.  Of  of  tithes,  shoidd  at  every  stage  be  liable  to  be 
carried  to  Home  nu  appeal  was  an  intolerable  tyi-auny.  But  who  can 
say  that  it  was  au  evil  that  grave  matters  of  doctrine,  such  as  those 
which  caused  the  lie  formation,  should  uot  be  decided  oflChand  by  the 
voice  of  a  siiigle  proviuce  of  the  Church,  nor  by  a  single  nation,  but 
shoidd,  aft«r  a  long  process,  be  decided  by  the  central  tribunal  of  all 
Chriet-endom  ?  Had  the  Popes  Iveen  just,  and  the  Ecclesiastical  Courts 
kept  puro  aud  clear  from  abuses,  the  Church  might  have  reformed 
itself  from  withm,  and  without  violence.  Aud  so  long  as  English 
justice  remains  what  it  is,  the  inconveuiencu  of  bringing  an  important 
cause  to  England  is  very  slight  ■when  contrasted  with  the  certainty  of 
justice  beiug  doue,  and  the  supreme  importance  of  the  maintenance  of 
unity  among  tbe  scattered  churches  whose  real  centre  is  in  Ei^laui 


Church  Government  in  the  Colonies,  335 

We  have  argued  on  the  general  question,  keeping  clear  of  the 
special  case  which  has  brought  the  matter  before  us.  And  we  have 
not  discussed  one  important  point,  viz.,  the  fact  that  no  adequate 
provision  has  been  made  for  the  trial  of  a  colonial  Ijisliop.  It  appears, 
indeed,  very  questionable  whether  the  same  difficulty  does  not  exist 
in  England  as  in  the  Colonies.  The  question  so  often  asked  in  the 
late  trial,  "  Who  could  bring  the  Bishop  of  Loudon  or  the  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury  to  justice  V  was  never  satisfactorily  answered  ;  and  if 
it  should  prove  that  no  means  exist  for  doing  this  in  the  Colonies, 
their  case  would  be  only  the  same  with  that  of  the  church  at  home. 
But  there  can  he  no  advantage  in  any  functionaiy  being  without 
liability  to  removal  in  case  of  gross  abuse  of  his  offtce,  and  in  futm-e 
appointments  it  would  appear  that  this  ought  to  be  pro\'ided  for. 
Certainly  the  Cro%\Ti,  in  creating  aa  office,  can  make  the  terms  on 
which  it  should  be  tenable. 

The  ground,  then,  is  cleared  for  us  as  regards  several  important 
points : — 1st.  Tlie  colonial  churches  are  not  independent,  but  branches 
of  the  Church  of  England ;  2nd.  They  are  in  fact  and  by  right  under 
a  certain  control  from  this  countrj-.  It  remains,  however,  to  discuss 
a  very  important  question,  tliat  of  tlie  best  means  for  their  future 
well-being  and  expansion. 

The  first  requisite  of  a  body  which  has  to  organize  itself  is  that  it 
should  have  liberty  to  convoke  its  own  assemblies  for  deliberation  and 
the  regulation  of  its  affairs.  It  was  supposed  some  time  ago  tliat  the 
Act  of  the  Submission  of  the  Clergy,  wliicli  lias  for  three  hundred  years 
restrained  the  clergy  from  meeting  in  synod  or  jiassing  canons  witliout 
the  express  consent  of  the  Crown,  held  good  in  the  Colonies ;  and  many 
of  the  colonial  churches  were  for  a  long  time  kept  back  by  doubts  on 
this  point  from  meeting  together  and  organizing  themselves.  A  bill 
was  brought  into  the  Imperial  Parliament  in  1854  by  Sir  K.  BetheU, 
the  Attorney-General,  for  the  express  purjiose  of  legalizing  such  synods. 
It  was  thrown  out ;  but  the  churches  acted  for  themselves,  and  there 
can  be  no  reasonable  doubt  that  no  clei^man  is  in  danger  of  prm' 
rnvniref  or  any  other  penalty,  for  joining  in  a  voluntary  assembly, 
and  uniting  with  other  members  of  the  Clumih  of  England  in  a  scheme 
of  self-government. 

We  shall  perhaps  take  the  best  means  of  suggesting  what  may  be 
done  for  organization  if  we  simply  exhibit  the  stages  through  which 
a  church  may  pass  from  its  first  planting  in  a  colony  to  its  final  and 
absolute  independence.  There  are  five  such  stages,  and  we  have 
examples  of  each  before  us  at  the  present  day. 

X.  We  shall  dwell  but  a  moment  on  the  phase  in  which  no  attempt 
whatever  has  been  made  to  bind  the  members  of  the  church  together 
by  any  form  of  agreement.     There  are  several  of  our  colonial  churches 


336 


The  Con  temporary  Review. 


in  thU  con<liiiun,     It  is  maiiifeat  t.kat  in  sudt  cases  there  can  1>e  iio 

cKurcli  goveiQiiient,  no  exercise  of  discipline,  unless  iu  a  Crown  colony 

episcopal  power  is  introLlucetl,  and  discipline  e3tab]ished.     But  "we 

dwell  upon  this  phaac  for  a  luoiiitut,  liecjiuse  it  e(?n-es  to  remind  us 

that  government  and  disdpUne  are  not  everything.     Tlie  oft'triny  of 

prayer,  the  celebraliim  of  the  sacraments,  tlie  great  episcopal  acid  of 

ordination  and  ccmfirmation,  go  on  as  regularly  as  if  the  chiirth  was 

fally  organized.    And  it  is  possibly  no  evil  that  the  cbuvches  should 

remain  in  tliia  phase  tor  a  iiuie,  that  they  may  win  the  free  aile^jianue 

of  the  i-olonists  befoi-e  they  take  any  stereotyped  form,  and  that  the 

way  for  orgnjiizatinn  may  be  prepared  hy  the  accretion  of  the  ruw 

maUsrial  which  is  afterwards.  t«  he  furmed  into  sliape.     Even  here  ii 

bishop  has  a  certain  power,  through  the  sanctioJi  which  he  ulono  can 

1,'ive  to  the  laiiiLstratinns  of  the  clei-yy  in  particular  iiun^Tej^tious. 

His  licence  may  not  have  the  legal  value  which  it  has  in  Eugloiid. 

and  it  will  always  he  possible  for  elergymeu  to  dispense  "ith  it.     But 

it  Buon  becjontes  a  discTcditable  thing  to  oHiciate  without  it ;  and.  when 

given,  it  constitutes  an  agreement  betwyeu  the  clergyman  suid  the 

bishop,  wliich  (us  the  despatch  of  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  after  the 

judgment  of  the  Privy  Council  in  Mr.  Long's  case,  cJearly  shows)  may 

Iju  iJiade  the  basis  of  a  complete  orf^aniza.tii,in,     A  c^vse  quite  anoloyoua 

to  this  is  to  be  found  in  the  Bishop  of  Londuii's  authority  over  the 

chaplaincies  on  the  Continent.     It  ia  true  tluit  in  the  English  coumiu- 

uities  abroad  it  is  possible  that  a  ehapUiin  should  othciate  witlioui 

the  bishop's  licence.     liitt  there  is  in  such  cases  no  ;uiei[uate  security 

for  the  character  of  the  cbaplaui,  or  even,  as  it  may  happen,  for  his 

being  in  Holy  Orders  Ht  all ;  tlie  cltrgyuien  and  people  ave  not  bouml 

together  by  any  valid  bond ;  and  the  successiori  of  clergymen  is  settled 

at  haphazard.     But  when  oiv^aiilzntiou  begins,  the  bishop  is  aJtnoat 

necessarily  invoked.     AVheji  the  English  residents  in  a  foreign  town 

combine  to  make  rules  for  the  election  of  a  chaplain,  the  first  which 

suggests  itself  is  that  the  cha])lai]i  should  have  the  bisliop's  licence. 

And  it  becomes  each  year  leaa  and  less  possible  for  a  clei^raan  to 

officiate  creditably  abroad  without  this  licence.     This  system  might 

be  drawn  niove  closely,  and  possibly  will  be  so  diuwii.     Were  the 

bishops  at  home  to  agree  to  perniit  no  one  to  ftHieiale  in  EughiiiLl  who 

has  aen-eJ  abroail  without  the  Bishop  of  Lmuhm'a  Hecnce.  the  Kcence 

would  soon  become  all  liut  indi-spensable.     And  where  the  licence 

exiate^  it  becomes  a  great  power  in  the  settlement  of  disputes,  the 

(j^uestion  of  its  continuance  or  withdrawal  being  alnioat  vital  to  the 

chaplain's  position  and  future  proeiiccts.     This  power,  however,  is  far 

short  of  that  whieli  cilh  bcj  claimed  by  a  bishop  in  a  small  colony,  who 

lias  the  prestige  of  liis  appointment  by  the  Cruwn,  and  tlm  position 

which  his  rank  and  education  give  him,  and  where,  in  cases  of 


ainE^j 


Church  Government  in  i/ie  Colonies.  337 

dispute,  Tecourae  may  be  had  at  once  to  the  courts  of  the  colouy,  which 
are  guided  by  well-knowa  principles.  In  the  case  of  Mr.  Long,  had 
some  definite  charge,  such  as  that  of  immorahty  or  drunkenness,  been 
substantiated  against  liiiu,  the  Court  of  Appeal  would  have  certaiuly 
found  in  the  Bishop's  favour :  for  the  terms  of  his  licence  made  him 
removeable  "for  just  cause,"  and  the  judgment  of  the  Privy  Council 
merely  affu-med  that  in  such  a  ease  the  analogy  of  English  Ecclesias- 
tical Law  and  procedure  would  hold  good,  4.  c,  that  an  offence  which 
would  in  England  have  been  a  just  cause  of  removal  from  office,  if 
investigated  in  a  manner  similar  to  that  in  which  such  an  ofience 
would  be  investigated  in  England,  would  have  justly  forfeited  the 
Ucence.  There  are  then,  even  wliere  no  compact  or  law  exists,  the 
means  of  the  church's  existence,  and,  to  a  certain  extent,  of  her 
government 

2.  The  second  phase  is  that  in  which  the  members  of  the  church, 
or  their  representatives,  ^ee  upon  terms  of  union,  and  are  bound  by 
a  compact  to  one  another.  This  form  exists  iu  several  colonies,  such 
as  South  Australia  and  New  Zealand.  In  those  colonies,  the  "con- 
sensual compact "  is  the  bond  of  a  voluntary  association  of  clergy  and 
communicants,  who,  by  their  representatives,  determine  on  the  bye- 
laws  or  rules  by  which  their  relations  are  to  be  governed.  There  are, 
indeed,  considerable  difficulties  in  the  way  of  such  a  scheme,  for  it 
proposes  to  bind  together  a  section  of  those  who  are  already  bound 
together  by  their  membership  in  the  church,  and  to  substitute  a 
voluntary  compact  for  the  law  by  wliich,  even  in  the  Colonies,  the 
members  of  the  church  are  bound  in  matters  of  religion.  Hence 
several  difficult  q^uestions  at  once  arise.  First,  \Vho  is  to  decide  on 
the  original  basis  of  this  voluntary  society  ?  Does  it  include  only 
communicants  ?  And,  if  so,  by  what  right  do  the  communicants 
represent  the  congregation  ?  Secondly,  there  will  be  many  besides 
non-communicants  who  will  prefer  not  adhering  to  the  compact,  and 
these  cannot  be  disregarded.  It  is  not  difficult  for  a  bishop  to  dictate 
certain  moderate  terms  for  a  Ucence,  which  a  clergyman  may  willingly 
accept,  when  tliey  are  distinctly  laid  down ;  but  it  is  quite  another 
thing  to  get  a  number  of  men  to  sign  a  paper  binding  themselves  to 
submit  to  a  synod  with  undefined  powers.  Thirdly,  if,  in  consequence 
of  this  objection,  it  is  optional  for  each  person  to  remain  within  the 
compact  only  so  long  as  he  pleases,  the  compact  is  of  no  use  at  all ; 
and  lastly,  who  is  to  enforce  the  decrees  of  the  goveining  body  of  the 
community  ?  It  is  always  doubtful  how  far  such  a  document  gives 
any  security  for  the  administration  of  justice,  or  how  far  Jt  will  bear 
examination  in  a  Law  Court.  Tlie  Bishop  of  Adelaide  once  attempted 
to  prosecute  a  cleigymau.  But  the  refractory  clergyman  brought  an 
action  for  defamation  of  character  against  thoss  who  acciised  him,  and 


33S 


Tks  Contemporary  Revkw. 


the  Bisliop,  a3  the  person  eliiefiy  implicated,  tad  to  pay  a  sum  of  j£200. 
Besides  tliis,  there  will  ahvjiya  remaiu  a  largo  body  of  ineu  who  will 
remain  outside  the  coiiipact :  few  men  would  exchani^e  llie  pusiticn  of 
a  Government  chaplain,  or  the  tenure  of  property  of  which  they  were 
in  the  enjoyment  before,  fur  the  position  of  those  midei-  the  compact; 
and  the  hisliop  cannot  bo  the  hishop  of  those  alune  w!io  have  signed 
it  And  the  fact  of  the  existence  of  such  an  attempt  ia  very  likely  to 
lead  to  dissension,  and  even  to  schism.  "WJieu  the  Bishop  of  AJeluide 
eudcavoui^d  to  obtain  an  act  of  the  Colonial  Parliament  to  iccoriiorate 
the  church,  it  m-bs  fouud  tlmt  more  members  of  the  church  petitioned 
aj^'ainst  than  for  the  hdl,  aud  the  bill  was  loat  on  those  grounds.  But 
the  attempt  to  obtain  the  Act  sliowed  clearly  the  diJhcidtiea  of  proceed- 
ing by  a  merely  voluntary  association,  as  may  he  seeji  in  minute  detail 
by  any  one  wlio  reads  tlie  evidence  given  by  the  Bishop  of  Adelaide 
hefore  the  Committee  of  the  Legislative  Council.  Still  such  a  compact 
may,  tinou^di  the  wisdoiu  and  luuderation  of  it-s  admiuistiators,  in  the 
course  of  time  win  the  conaeiit  of  the  cluirch  so  completely  as  to  be 
very  eflicieut  for  practleal  purposes.  We  donht  however,  whether, 
among  the  anomalies  witli  which  the  subject  13  encompassed,  it  is 
Jitted  to  tako  the  filace  of  actual  law ;  and  we  regard  it  as  a  state  of 
transition  to  one  in  which  the  church  has  the  direct  sanction  of  the 
Legislature. 

3.  Tjug  more  advanced  phase  haa  been  brought  about  in  several  of 
the  colonies  by  a  variety  of  causes, — in  the  West  Indies  by  tlie  desire 
of  the  Imperial  Government  on  the  first  erection  of  the  bishoprics; 
in  the  sees  of  Tasmania  and  Mellium-iie  liy  the  activity  and  wiadoia 
of  the  bi9hoi»3  tliemselves ;  and  in  Canada,  which  has  arrived  at  a 
more  advanced  point,  by  the  force  of  public  opinion. 

It  may  be  asked  why  the  Church  of  England  requires  more  than 
other  churches  the  assistnucc  of  the  Le^islatura  The  answer  ia,  that 
this  nece3s.ity  results  from  the  fact  that  the  church  in  the  Colonies  is 
a  part  of  the  Cluirch  of  Ei]ij;land,  wliich  is  governed  and  restnuned.  by 
statute.  Tlie  pusition  is  that  of  a  body  which,  us  regards  ita  status 
in  the  colony,  is  unconnected  with  the  Htate;  hut  aa  regarda  ita  union 
with  the  Church  at  home,  ia  subject  Lii  some  degree  to  the  luwi 
the  State.  So  long  03  the  chui-ch  in  any  colony  is  men-dy  iu  a 
missionary  stage,  it  may  he  well  to  leave  things  to  take  then-  own 
course.  But  as  soon  as  it  acciuirea  any  strength  for  self-government, 
it  needs  the  luianrancu  which  aii  Act  of  the  Legishiture  alone  can  give. 
Possibl}'  luatters  might  in  time  adjust  themselves  without  such  an 
Act.  By  resort  to  the  Courts  of  Lnnv  and  apjieals  to  the  Privy 
Council,  it  would  l>e  ascertained  what  were  the  limits  within  which 
tlie  church  might  move.  But  this  ia  a  moat  unsatisfactory  means  or* 
aacertaiuing  men's  rights,    A  bishop  is  Itl  a  state  of  groat  uncertainty^ 


.tatua     1 
inion    I 

.vs  ofi 


Church  Government  in  the  Colonies.  339 

vliich  either  paralyzes  hia  action,  or  is  resolved  by  his  taking  action 
in  the  dark,  and  running  the  risk,  with  the  best  intentions,  of  appear- 
ing in  an  invidious  light,  overstraining  his  powers,  putting  hims^  to 
great  expense  in  the  maintenance  of  his  authority,  and  occasionally 
having  that  authority  rudely  shaken  under  him.  It  is  a  just  claim, 
then,  which  the  members  of  the  Church  of  England  prefer,  that  their 
rights  and  the  scope  of  their  action  should  be  defined  for  them  by  the 
Colonial  Legislature.  It  may  be  doubtful  whether  other  religious 
bodies  might  not  be  benefited  by  obtaining  similar  acts  of  incorpo- 
ration, as  the  Duke  of  Newcastle  appears  from  his  despatches  to  have 
wished.  But  the  Church  of  England  in  a  colony  stands  on  a  different 
footing  from  any  other  community ;  and  it  is  especially  in  such 
exceptional  cases  that  the  action  of  the  Legislature  may  rightly  be 
invoked.  In  the  "West  India  islands  the  Church  of  England  is 
established  by  law.  But  this  is  both  undesirable  and  hopeless  in 
the  newer  colonies,  in  which  the  religious  communities  are  evenly 
balanced.  "What  is  wanted  there  is  to  obtain  in  distinct  terms, — 
Ist,  The  power  to  hold  property  and  receive  endowments ;  2nd,  The 
power  to  convoke  meetings  of  the  members  of  the  church  to  pass 
bye-laws  and  regulations  for  the  conduct  of  its  affairs ;  3rdly,  Power 
to  enforce  the  conditions  under  which  the  oflBcera  of  the  community 
hold  their  positions ;  4thly,  To  define  membership  of  the  church, 
such  as  will  entitle  the  members  to  enjoy  the  advanti^es  of  the 
association.  Thrae  powers  are  not  beyond  those  granted  to  a  corpo- 
ration formed  for  any  commercial  undertaking ;  and  we  doubt  whether 
the  Legislature  of  any  colony  in  which  the  church  is  agreed  and 
efficiently  represented  would,  except  through  a  misunderstanding, 
object  to  a  measure  of  this  kind.  Where  objections  have  been  taken, 
they  have  for  the  most  part  been  caused  by  some  misconception  of 
the  objects  sought  by  the  church ;  and  let  the  rulers  of  the  colonial 
churches  be  assured,  there  is  nothing  w}iich  can  so  much  tend  to  the 
perpetuation  of  such  misconceptions,  or  rather  to  the  raising  of  real 
objections,  as  any  act  which  savours  of  violence  or  of  an  attempt  at 
ecclesiastical  domination.  It  should  be  observed  that  the  rights  of 
the  Crown  are  in  these  cases  (viz.,  those  of  Tasmania  and  ilelboume) 
expressly  reserved ;  and  the  unity  of  the  Church  is  maintained  (1) 
by  the  necessity  of  obtaining  the,  sanction  of  the  Colonial  Office 
and  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  to  the  bye-laws;  (2)  by  saving  the 
right  of  appeal  to  the  Queea  in  Council. 

4.  A  step  has  been  taken  beyond  these  by  the  Church  of  Canada, 
which  has  obtained  power  to  elect  its  own  bishops  and  to  create  new 
dioceses,  the  Crown  giving  merely  a  nominal  sanction  to  these  pro- 
ceedings, and  recognising  the  votes  of  the  Synod  as  its  reason  for 
action.     Tins  liberty  was  given  by  an  Act  of  the  Colonial  Legislature 


34° 


Tlie  Contemporary  Review. 


ia  1856,  and  was  at  first  questioaeJ  by  the  legal  authorities  at  home. 
Their  doubts  ■were  ao  grave  th&t  the  matter  was  referred  to  the 
JuiUcial  Coimiiittee  of  the  I'rivy  Co«uc',il  lor  their  advice;  and  after 
a  lengiJiened  argument,  Her  Majesty  was  advised  that  tlie  Act  in 
(Hiestioii  would  not  ttnittiet  with  her  prerogative.  It  la,  however, 
inatructive  to  trace  the  ditCei'enceJhetweeii  the  conduct  of  a  large  church 
like  that  of  Canada,  in  which  public  opinion  exists  and  ia  a  real  powpr, 
imd  tliab  of  a  small  church  like  that  of  Capetfiwii,  which  is  as  yet  untit, 
i'or  independence.  The  lattei-  sees  no  ditHcidties  altead.  and  has  uo 
scruple  ill  asaertiiif!  its  power  loFalter  its  ref^atioae  to  any  exteul. 
Till?  Iiiriuer  is  so  impressed  ■with'  the  neceBsity  of  the  maiuteuaoce  cf 
unity,  that  it  even  sees  cause  for  anxiety  in  tlie  fact  that  tlie  CVttvo- 
cations  of  York  and  Cautwrhiiry  difler  about  a  cjmon.  May  we  not, 
safely  infer  that,  while  in  larye  ajid  full-^owu  colnmes,  M'hich  are  all 
but  fiupamte  nations,  t)ie  churcli/of  tlie  eolony  may  be  rightly  placed 
almost  ill  the  position  of  iudiipendence,  and  deal  witli  the  Church  at 
htjnie  almost  on  a  footing  of  e(:[uahty,  there  would  be  the  greatest 
datiyer  iii  permitting  eveiy  petty  community  of  a  hishup  and  a  few 
clergy  to  make  the  laws  by  which  they  and  those  of  their  oviii 
Mintimntoii  should  be  yovenied  ? 

5.  There  is  one  stage  stdl  more  advanced,  in  which  there  is  an  absolute 
and  final  separation  between  the  mother  Church  and  its  daughtw.  the 
only  instiincfi  of  which  existe  in  the  great  nation  of  which  so  many 
parts  were  originally  Enghsh  colonies.  In  the  United  l^tates  there 
is  au  example  of  an  absolutety  iiKlejiemleut  church  iu  communion 
with  OlU^o^^■n;  but  it  exists,  as  appeara  to  us  to  be  implied  by  this 
condition,  in  a  political  society  wliich  is  absolutely  indefiendent  of  our 
own.  It  is  well  worth  while  to  examiue  one  or  two  jwinta  which  tlis- 
tinguiah  such  «  community  from  our  colonial  churches.  In  tlie  fligt 
place  the  Episcopal  Chnr^h  of  America  is  really  a  voluntary  as3»:icii- 
tion.  "A  pariah,"  says  the  Bishop  of  Oiford  (p.  245),  "  in  America, 
has  a  widely  different  meaning  from  that  which  it  bears  with  u^.  It 
is  not  a  certain  lUstrict  of  a  diocese  committed  hy  ita  bishop  to  the 
spiritual  care  of  a  preabyter,  who  is  to  regard  all  within  it  as  his 
charge;"  ''it  was  merely  a  set  of  persons  who  associated  themselves 
t<i;^ether,  and  agreed  to  act  and  woi-ship  together  in  »  certain  place, 
and  under  certain  ■nA'e.a,  because  they  preferred  the  Episcopal  form  to 
any  other.  Thna  any  corpomte  existence  was  the  consequenwi  of 
tiieir  own  ch(uce  and  will,  not  the  result  of  care  taken  of  them ;  aud 
this  principle  was  present  everywhere."  In  the  same  way,  in  describ- 
ing the  Aanerican  dioeesej  he  saya  that  whereas  a  diocese,  in  the 
language  of  the  Church,  has  always  meant  a  portion  of  Cluist's  flock 
committed  to  the  charge  of  a  chief  past^ir,  it  means  in  America  merely 
a  federal  commonwealth  of  parishes,  associated  on  certain  prescribed 


Church  Government  in  the  Colonies.  341 

condSiaDS  with  each  other  and  the  General  Convention.  He  farther 
Dotiees  that  the  canons  give  the  determination  of  all  questions  as  to 
diacii^ine,  doctrine,  and  worship,  not  to  the  bishops,  but  to  the  majority 
of  TOtes  in  the  OonTention.  In  short,  it  may  be  said  generally  that 
tiie  principle  adopted  is,  that  the  power  in  the  church  springs  from 
below,  not  from  above.  This  the  Bishop  objects  to  as  too  democratic. 
But  it  ia  worth  while  to  consider  whether  it  does  not  necessarily  result 
from  the  absolute  independence  of  the  church  iu  a  Protestant  country. 
We  put  out  of  the  question  the  case  of  the  Scottish  Episcopal  Church, 
iHiich  is  but  the  remnant  of  an  establishment  clinging  to  the  skirts  of 
the  Church  of  England.  We  are  speaking  of  new  and  growing  com- 
mnnities.  There  is,  in  such  cases,  no  Pope  from  whom  a  kind  of 
Divine  authority  can  come  ;  and  it  would  hardly  be  a  theory  univer- 
sally accepted  which  should  set  up  the  bishops  of  a  certain  political 
division  of  the  globe  as  a  divinely  appointed  source  of  authority.  Yet 
unless  this  be  the  case,  on  what  other  principle  can  we  go  than  that  of 
depending  on  the  free  assent  of  every  member  of  the  church,  who 
most  necessarily  be  taken  into  consultation  on  every  point  ?  If  the 
power  of  the  Pope,  with  all  its  checks  and  modifications,  was  a  burden 
upon  the  Iwty,  the  power  of  a  few  bishops  residing  on  the  spot,  and 
able  to  interfere  by  their  own  discretion  at  every  turn,  would  prove 
intolerable.  Those,  therefore,  who  desire  that  the  colonial  churches 
diould  be  free  must  count  the  cost,  and  see  well  what  it  is  that  they 
desire.  The  end  can,  in  our  opinion,  be  none  other  than  that  which 
exists  in  America. 

Nor  do  we  r^rd  this  end  as  undesirable.  We  think  it  no  un- 
worthy conception  of  a  church  which  regards  it  as  a  voluntary 
association,  which  is  sdf-govemed  by  the  influence  of  the  Spirit  of 
God  upon  its  individual  members ;  nor  do  we  think  it  derogatory  to  the 
true  idea  of  the  episcopal  office  that  a  bishop  should  be  under  the 
restraint  of  law  and  J^reements  in  all  his  acts, — that  is,  in  trutli,  that 
Iw  should  act  in  harmony  with  those  over  whom  he  presides.  The 
experiment  has  been  worked  out  in  political  government,  and  we  see 
no  a^;ament  which  applies  in  the  one  case  which  fails  in  the  other. 
It  does  not  follow  that,  because  we  have  abolished  the  Divine  right 
of  kings  in  England  as  much  as  in  America,  we  are  insincere  in 
playing  that  we,  "  knowing  whose  authority  they  have,"  may  humbly 
f*ey  them  as  God's  ministers ;  nor  would  the  same  expression  ill 
^ly  to  the  Governors  or  Presidents  whom  democratic  communities 
*t  over  them.  And  in  the  same  way  we  have  no  reason  to  doubt 
that  the  church  will  be  as  truly  governed  by  bishops  and  an  Episcopal 
system  after  the  American  model,  as  it  is  where  a  less  restricted  dis- 
t^oQ  is  allowed  to  the  highest  order  of  the  ministry. 
But  while  we  say  this,  we  repeat  that  the  time  for  this  in  the 


342  Tlie  Contemporary  Review. 

Colonies  is  not  yet  come.    The  Coloniea  are  communities  vaiying  is 
all  degrees  in  their  administration,  from  the  uncontroUed  exercue 
of  the  power  of  the  Crown,  to  an  almost  nominal  dependence  on 
the  mother  country,  while  yet  in  none  of  them  has  the  Goyem- 
ment  of  this  country   entirely  resigned  its  power.     Now  without 
holding  any  theory  of  the  necessary  dependence  of  the  Church  upon 
the  State,  we  thint  the  capability  of  a  community  to  organize  its  own 
temporal  affairs  a  good  index  of  the  capability  of  its  members  to 
handle  the  delicate  questions  of  church  government.    And  our  best 
hope  for  the  future  is  that  these  two  may  be  allowed  to  advance  toge- 
ther, looking  in  each  case  to  absolute  independence  as  the  goal    We 
trust  that  this  advance  may  be  made  by  the  church,  unhindered  on  the 
one  hand  by  reprrasion  or  distrust  on  the  part  of  the  Colonial  or 

English  Governments,  and,  on  the  other,  not  hastened  into  an  unusual 

precocity  by  efforts  springing  from   crude  theories  of  the  abstract:::; 
rights  of  bishops  and  single  branches  of  the  church. 

What  the  ultimate  relation  may  be  between  the  ^^ous  churche  -^ 
springing  from  the  Anglican  stock  we  do  not  pretend  to  speculat^^ 
We  only  venture  to  hope  that,  as  we  trust  that  in  temporal  things  tb-;^ 
new  nations  will  live  in  amity  together,  so  the  new  churches  may  ^^ 
able  to  hold  commimion  with  one  another ;  and  that  when  th.^. 
become  absolutely  independent  of  each  other,  they  may  not  so  ^Ck* 
diverge  in  doctrine  or  in  modes  of  worship,  aa  to  prevent  their  r^o.  j 
procity  in  good  offices  and  their  combination  for  all  good  works. 

W.  H.  Fremantle. 


NOTICES  OF  BOOKS. 


Travels  in  Egypt  and  Syria.     By  8.  S.  Hill,  F.RG.a,  Author  of  "Travels 
in  Siberia,"  &c.,  &c.    London :  Longmans.     1866. 

MANY  camels  have  pressed  the  sand  of  the  desert,  yet  their  ateps^aro 
not  written  thereon,"  says  an  Arab  proverb.  As  little  impression 
trill  the  footprints  of  Mr.  S.  8.  Hill  leave  behind  them  on  the  sands  of  time. 
"We  have  faithfully,  as  in  duty  bound,  read  through  every  one  of  Mr.  Hill's  455 
pages,  but  in  vain  have  we  searched  for  any  better  reason  for  his  committing 
liimself  to  print  than  the  statement  of  his  preface — that  "  the  impressions 
received  during  these  travels  liave  been  made  upon  one  who  has  visited 
many  parts  of  the  earth."  We  can  only  hope  that  his  impressions  elsewhere 
XTceived  have  been  better  worth  recording.  Mr.  Hill  spent  some  weeks  in 
Cairrf,  to  which  he  devotes  nineteen  chapters ;  ascended  the  Nile  as  far  as 
X^ke;  crossed  the  desert  by  8inai  to  Jerusalem,  whence  he  made  some 
excursions;  hurried  northwards  to  Nazareth  and  Tiberias,  did  not  even  visit 
Oennesarct,  embarked  at  Acre  for  Bcyrout,  went  thence  to  Damascus,  and 
x«tnmed  by  Baalbec  and  the  cedars.  Of  this  iamiliar  journey  the  portly 
-VTjlome  before  us  is  the  tardy  result  We  say  tardy,  for  though  Mr.  HiU 
conceals  the  date  of  his  travels,  wo  must,  &om  internal  evidence,  place  them 
l>e/ore  the  massacres  of  the  Lebanon,  or  the  opening  of  the  mosque  of  Omar 
**  Iluropeana  in  the  Crimean  war.  One  Horatian  maxim  llr.  Hill  has 
obeyed,— 

"  Noanm  prematur  in  Bnnum 
MembraiuB  intus  tKNitia." 

W'onld  that  he  had  not  persistently  outraged  every  other  caution  of  the  bard  1 
^is  history  is  incorrect,  his  topography  inexact,  hia  description  of  man- 
**e*8  wide  of  the  mark,  his  jests  not  racy,  hia  theology  maudlin,  and  his  com- 
J**^«ition  uniformly  ungrammaticaL  His  absolute  ignorance  of  the  vernacular 
'^ft  him  to  the  last  day  of  his  sojourn  at  the  mercy  of  his  dragoman,  artful 

^^ough  to  interpret,  often  with  cruel  pleasantly,  what  would  please  rather 

*****n  what  was  said,  in  the  interminable  prosinga  ^rith  which  the  journal  is 

*iUed. 


344 


The  Co7iiemporary  Review. 


We  \v9A  WTiiSeii  through  214  j^a^swhen  we  came  at  last  trt  an  Wen,  "  It 
li!i»  apyiGarEKl  to  Irie  that "  the  chiboiik  "  is  Hkc  the  glass,  either  full  of  ideag, 
anJ  %  grt!iit  iiiccutiVQ  to  conversation,  or  more  aoiKiiific  and  dustructtTe 
cif  the  flow  of  iiitcUpctual  discniu'se  than  ojiiuni ;  but  if  c^ipL'rimeut  and 
aliservatinn  he  in  this  :i8  in  other  casus  th«  bust  test  of  tnith,  a  party  of 
pmokere  should  offer  an  opportiiuity  to  the  liifiinost  comprehension  to  Hwika 
siicli  cpiiL-t  iibsfn'atitiTis  as  tu  throw  a  ray  or  two  of  useful  light  upoji  wljat 
should  by  m>  mtions  h^  an  iiidiftWront  matter  to  all  men  both  of  the  civilizwl 
aud  deraicivilirad  world  "  !  Of  Mr.  liill'ii  "  impressioue  "  we  iimy  iiistuice 
the  fullowing  of  a  sheikh  ; — "  Upon  hia  coimtenance  there  wae  great  benig- 
nity appnrcnt,  which  wo  tboitight  infUcated  hie  sense  of  the  aiipuriority  of  the 
BriLish  customs  "  \ — fP.  37fi.)  I  could  not  avoid  feeliug  that  the  ijfumn  of 
this  jjkin  (I^aniaecus)  had  much  aided  the  couvtrsLQU  of  one  of  the  cruel 
jierei:i-ut<.irs  of  the  Cluistiunts  to  one  of  the  most  active  of  the  inuiiydiittt; 
fullowei-a  of  the  Savioui'."— (P.  403.)  Wc  hud  elsewhere  read  a  truer 
detjci'iptic'u; — 

"  Tte  Biicl-doy"  Biin,  vifli  Gt-rceBt  gluTC^ 
Btooils  o'er  tlie  hiizy,  iwinilkig  nir." 

His  historical  facta  arp  occiisionally  startling.  At  p.  4-53  he  mfonns  us 
that  he  exnmiued,  at  the  Nuhr  td  Kt;lb,  "  tho  imp™!ili£Lbte  njoiiuinente  nf  tho 
victoriea  of  .  .  .  Cainbysea  "  !  At  p.  183  ho  ttdla  ua  the  temples  at 
T)eiideRih  ate  finid  to  1x3  thi;  most  ancient  remains  in  Egj-jit,  and  partly 
huiU  by  Clcinpatm  !  We  read  at  p.  13S  that  the  Christiana  "arc  indebted  to 
the  late  ISulbui,  Aii  Pnalm !  ]  i'vr  excimption  fur  milibtry  serviceL"  Buick- 
hiirdt.  ■was  the  prince  of  Oi-iental  exjilorers,  but  it  was  left  tc  Jlr.  Hill  to 
infiiiin  us  tliat  S}it-ikh  Ibj-ahini  had  visited  the  Ilaraui  at  H<?))n>n.  Thti 
ginxl  friars  of  Mount  Carmcl  will  be  surpriaed  to  learn  that  their  '■■  coiiTcnt 
ie  in  the  possession  of  the  Greek  Church " ! — (P.  3S2.)  Nor  wUl  the  diw-k? 
be  more  tlatt*-'i-i;d  by  tb«  eircumatantial  de8f:riptioii  of  6.0.  "Bxliihitiun  of  tb* 
Greek  Church  in  the  image  of  the  Vij-yin"  in  tho  Cunut'lito  Cliiipul,  or  hy 
the  statement  that  tho  Fivncli  have  supjilied  the  paiutiiigs  at  Moi 
Sinai. 

Does  the  author  exjiect  those  who  know  the  East  in  believe  that  in 
place  near  ('airo  on«  thousand  iidimts  are  annually  plnugJitorud  ti»  tihtftLn 
three  hundred  guardians  for  the  wives  of  MiissuIniBns'i— that  th«  trade  iii 
female  iBkveti  is  as  open  and  extensive  as  ho  represents  HI — that  iiue  of  Im 
muleteera  at  Jenisakni  (a  Mussulmai])  offered  tn  stdl  hhn  "lus  young  nml 
bcautifijl  wife"  for  twenty  shillinj^s,  as  a  tfstinimiy  of  hi.'*  reyanl  I  (p.  334) 
— that  there  is  but  one  dw^rllijig  in  Kamnntau  Nablous  '■  hotter  than  a  niuil 
hovnl ''  ?  (p.  339)— that  there  aii;-  but  few  Chi-intiam  at  IJethlehera  J  fp.  323) 
— that  its  iiihabitaute  are  savages?  (i».  320)— and  that  not  a  wonnui  of  muj 
agr  18  t-o  he  seen  there  !  Tliia  ejctmoiilinaiy  blunder  ia  the  more  iinaccimnt- 
able,  [ia  Mr.  Hill  never  omits  an  fippnrtunity  of  dilating,  with  wwirisome 
repetition,  on  cver>'  wouian,  veiled  or  unveiled,  whom  lie  met,  and  loo  ofl 
rudely  stared  out  of  tountcnaiiet!  (p.  3t)i),  during  his  travels. 

ilr.  Hill'a  obser^'ations  in  uatund  history  iire  Bunietimes  Amusing. 
saw  "an  animal  of  the  fomi  of  a  Iiaird,  but  furred." — (P.  222.)  He  fed  his 
horse  on  nufs  in  Syria— found  tlie  neighliourh'riod  lA  the  iJead  Sea  and  the 
Mount  of  Olives  to  liclaryidy  compo.'wd  of  gi-anite  I— t^lls  us  that  bakers'  oven* 
are-  heated  "  with  the  cxerement  of  tlie  camdf!  and  snm«  other  itratidnai  (!) 
animals." — (P.  111.)  And  after  laying  down  tho  a.\ioni,  "  that  any  creature 
existing  can  seo  in  tlio  diirk,  then;  can  be  no  doubt  is  impossible,' 
triumphantly  Adds,  "ni"'verthol(iss  in  this  chamber,  into  which  no  light 
pcnctrflte,  hats  dwell  •  and  I  wish  to  aak  the  student  in  physics  how  i. 


4 


PllKT 

4 


Notices  of  Books,  345 

Iwts,  confined  to  cliambers  where  liglit  never  enters,  live,  and  what  is  their 
food."  ! !— (P.  78.) 

Mr.  Hill  combines  his  theology  "  with  the  moral  principle  of  humanity," 
whatever  that  may  be;  speaks  of  Him  "through  whom  all  hojie  for  forgive- 
ness of  their  errors,  or  the  recinnpence  of  tlivir  faith  and  their  ijood  worka" 
hat  never  omits  to  exjiress  a  patronizing  contempt  for  oriental  Christi- 
anity ;  sends  us  to  the  well-aide  to  "  learn  the  jtriiieiplos  of  true  religion, 
which  mu8t  he  in  accordance  with  the  natural  feelings  which  spring  from 
an  uncorrupted  heart." — (P.  319.) 

Of  the  style  in  which  these  dreary  platitudes  are  involved  we  ■will  only 
give  an  example  or  two  taken  at  random.  *'  The  Isle  of  Klephantine  ,  .  . 
is  now  half  overgrown  with  the  sycamore ;  .  .  .  as  if  it  were  armed  by 
Nature  against  the  visible  effects  of  the  tyranny  and  superstition  which  has 
almost  reduced  this  productive  country  to  a  wilderness,  and  liuried  its 
ancient  inhabitants,  so  justly  entitled  to  our  remembrance,  under  the  ruins 
of  the  noble  monuments,  even  now  seen  with  so  much  interest." — (P.  194.) 
Again,  describing  a  lady  sketching,  we  have  the  following ; — "  Wliile  the 
lady  was  engaged  with  her  work,  which  became  the  exact  representatitm  of 
wfuti  it  presented,  I  took  the  opportunity  of  a  lone  walk  over  the  slopes  and 
declivities  of  the  surrounding  hills." — (P.  351.)  We  scarcely  need  to  add, 
that  the  wildest  dragoman  renderings  suffice  for  the  names  of  places.  El 
fiedion  for  Engedi,  Dier  el  (iamniaw  for  Deir  el  Kamar,  Daccarheor  for 
Bhoberiyeh;  and  in  less  recondite  English  orthography,  "  species  "  for  "  speci- 
men," "  suit "  for  "  suite,"  and  (can  it  he  the  correction  of  a  cockney  com- 
positor?) "  hoUyantler  "  for  "oleanikr"  !— (P.  452.) 

But  we  have  already  spent  too  much  time  and  space  over  this  most 
vorthless  of  books,  the  author  of  wliich  apiwars  to  have  draj^ed  at  each 
remove  a  lengthened  chain,  not  of  new  ideas,  but  of  ignorance  and  mis- 
conceptions. 


On  Minsions  to  the  Zubts  in  Natal  and  Zululand.  By  the  Right  Kev. 
J.  W.  CoLEsao,  D.D.,  Bishop  of  NataL  A  Lecture  delivered  at  the 
Marylebone  Literary  Institution,  Jlay,  18G5.  Published  in  the  Social 
Science  Iteview,  Ist  Juno,  18G5.     Pp.  481—510. 

A  BISHOP  who,  for  many  of  the  beat  years  of  hia  life,  lias  dovoted  ability 
of  no  common  order  to  work  in  a  distant  colony  is  entitled  to  be  heard 
"with  respect  and  attention  when  he  .s)>uaks  on  the  subject  of  missions.  The 
lecture  before  us  is  the  result  of  Bishop  Colenso's  undertaking  to  give  to 
tile  members  of  the  Maiylebone  Litenir^'  and  Scientific  Institution  some 
account  of  his  work  in  South  Africa,  and  to  sliow  tliem  what  good  can  be 
expected  from  missions  among  .«avage  tribes,  and  wltit  reasonable  ground 
wists  for  engaging  in  labour  of  that  kin<L 

Beginning  with  the  last  part  of  his  theme,  the  Bishop  reminds  his  readers 
^f  the  fact — for  which  ho  deserves,  wo  think,  more  credit  than  he  has 
'Reived  in  certain  quarters — that  he  took  what  may  he  called  tlm  Oiristian 
wde  when  the  question  was  debated  at  tlie  Aiithropnlryical  Society,  wliiitlier 
"^■^age  tribes  are  capable  of  rereiviiy  Kuropean  civilizntion  and  Christi- 
"'^Uy — whether  they  can  get  any  jiiTirlical  gnod  from  the  inslrnction  of 
"Missionaries,  He  answers  this  qnc-lion,  and  states  rciisou^  in  favour  of 
^^gaging  in  mi.ssionary  work.  The  p;i>s;i;,'e  is  long,  but  M-e  should  injure 
'^  force  and  beauty  by  abridgiu;,'  i  . 

V.ir,.  i.  .■  A 


346 


The  Contemporary  Rivtew. 


"  TTTjurevtT  wo  tutet  with,  tte  power  of  speech,  irith  reason  And  coaB^-knee,  wilh  lenfl 
huiUAn  affrrtjons,  w?  must  ronfesa  that  thft  oimer  uf  nich  gitts  is  '  n,  man  and  a  broths 
—  that  ho  Iiiia  a  claim  iijion  ua  as  a  merubt^r  of  lie  ^cnt  human  family,— for  in  hia  be«t  ia 
bputiiig,  oiiu  now,  towevtr  faintly,  iho  Lilb  ii-hicL,  we  are  told,  is  '  (he  Light  of  jaen,'  and 
'  lij-'htcth  cTory  uitin  thnt  oomcUi  into  tbo  wurlJ,'  Wt>  are  bQt:!n4  fj  teach  him,  as  tSoi 
B-hail  ffive.  ua  opportunity  for  eo  doiut'.  ^tat  wb  oiimftvfe  have  kamed,— not  only  Trhjt  ird 
havi-  liceii  pnribleii  \ii  kif^otb  hr  our  own  esertioufl  aa(3  uifiiiRtrj',  but  what  "Hfl  hasn 
inhrriitti,  and  i-pceired  (hroiigh  the  handB  of  others,  from  Khty  FjttlitT  iif  nil,  the  Father  af 
lights,  '  tlip  giver  d  pvory  goud  and  pcriL'tt  pift.'  Must  of  all  cro  wl>  Ixiimd  lo  imput 
tiiiit  highest  tnowlwlgp,^thiil  kinjwledgt-  of  tj'ud  Himself, — in  ivlildi  I'-oiisislE  the  lift 
eternal — ^vilh  whi(?h  we  otirseli-efl  hftvu  nec'n  so  abunJnntly  hlpxacd, — which  has  heliiod  to 
coudbrt  iia  in  aonrow,  to  stren[;1:hcu  us  for  duty,  (o  eimoblo  nnd  glorify  OUT  cdramDiieat 
dully  doings,  to  siistnin  <wid  culm  our  souls  in  the  presence  of  deaili. 

"  Surely  oar  fgllgw-fonn  shows  aufflciently  bis  right  to  i-oceii-e  all  thin  at  o»ir  bunds,  by 
Atiowinf;  hiiusdl:'  tn  bo  capable  (^f  it.  And  it  scquib  ta  be  in  the  ord^r  of  I^roWdeni'O  ilisl 
Iho  nriton,  more  than  any  other,  shodld  go  out  into  cihtr  lauds  fhim  his  own  beAntifiill 
hut  trawdi-d  ialfLnd  home,  und  tixkc  poiaosaLon  of  ditfentit  n-Hnona  of  the  earth,  whtip  hii 
will  h«  brought  at  onc&  uilo  oonBectiim  with  races  on  a  lowerlcrel  of  civiliiinlion.  There, 
we  know,  the  lower  mre  will  be  eipoBcd  to  peuuliar  danpcra,  hy  rtown  of  thia  vary  cou- 
tatt;  iu  their  Iraiisition  slaCO  they  will  aciiuire  new  vices,  bfcome  the  viclinis  of  nflT 
dist'asfs,  nnit  pcrlinpa  pine  away  nnd  perish  b*ifi>re  tie  face  of  the  white  nnin..  I  douhl 
Ten"  iiiiirli  if  thi»  but  in  fin  absolutely  neccsnajy  law  of  nntiire,  jls  aoiiio  deeuL  to  aiip]xwt. 
1  douliv  if  ihf  Ubdoiaa  will  evej-  be  Ll'tan  swept  froni  tht.iir  native  jjlains,  or  the  Chijii-K 
from  ihL'ir  vBAt  l«n'it<>ry,  or  thu  Muiay  nicrs  from  the  Euejera  ArthiTielago,  or  ihc  Kafir 
Bind  other  rwarthy  (tibi^s  from  the  Canttal  nnd  S<iulhf  m  parta  of  Afnca,  wIipto  bo  E,uro- 
]jeuia  eim  Iour  sunivu.  Hut,  admitting  thnt  they  oveu  nmy  perish,  cbb  it  be  doubtful 
whether,  whiU  (ieif  yet  lire,  ih*  more  highly  privilegi>d  people,  brought  into  e-ontaet  wilti 
ihenj,  should  strive  to  jjuiiart  tLo  blmifni,  ns  tru'y  asBaredly  vili  import  the  erii/  of  fivi- 
liiation, — should  pivv-  ihi^ni  instruction,  nerordinp  lo  ihcir  powers  of  receiving  il,  in  th**; 
ilrta  liid  -EciLiiecB  (ti  which  they  themselyes  have  nlloincd, — elmulil  Icaeli  Ihcm  also  ihoH 
eternal  truths  of  religion  raid  morality  which  have  been  u!ri.»ftdy  revealed  to  them, — in  one 
word,  should  earc  for  the  soul  n^  well  as  for  the  bfldy — for  the  Bpiritnal  as  well  m  rfw 
inti'lletlual  development  of  Ibcir  younger  brotbcr  in  the  Divino  family  ?" 


Cogent  as  this  rea«onmg  is,  it  yet  a^iu«  valculatud  to  t>ileDce  rather 
to  cunviuw  ;  it  suvours  ntthcr  of  the  afterthought  of  one  who  is  ogmiiutl.ed 
to  loissioiiary  work  Ihnu  of  tht'  motives  which  iniptil  u  mu.ii  to  foiBakt  all 
else  011(1  I'oUow  Chriat  iu  Ilifi  ^^'ork.  It  is  not  mitnm^  but  as  a  Gtatvmeut 
of  those  feelidga  and  argitiacnts  which  seuii  forth  in  every  age  labourere 
into  the  grbat  fieki  <if  inlsaionts  it  is  very  iDJHltiqmit*,  Thu  heathen  has  u 
tilaiiit  foE  i<.i? Ill L'tl ling  lumre  ilian  human  s^inpathy,  civilization,  and  enlightuu- 
ment  at  tlie  hands  of  a  Oirislian  missionar}'.  The  givutc'st  IJhri^tiau 
missionary  rL^panlfd  his  vfRco  as  the  mi?nns  of  Bujiplying  otht'P  and  doeper 
"n'ants,  when  liy  ilcscrihed  it  as  a.  miiiiatry  of  reconi-ilialion  (see  2  Cor.  v.  19, 
A*:,).  Only  tin  the  KUjtposition  that  Risliup  Coienso's  hearers,  though 
iiddrussed  aa  iiiiellir;;t^nt,  ijiijuiring,  liigldy  ciWlizedj  religioua,  Christina  nieu, 
wfivp  not  qualified  to  itiiUtr  on  such  ground,  <ain  he  bt*  tixcused  for  omittiiig 
entirely  the  must  ohviotis  of  all  leBsonu  for  engaging  in  misisionary  labour — 
the  dirpet  eommund  oE  the  Redeemer,  and  the  ftequt'nt  iutimutioua  of  Hia 
de&'iie  thnt  His  Llnepel  aliuulit  be  jireacbed  to  every  creatiU'L-.  A  deficiency 
of  llie  Hfliiie  kind  is.  to  lie  noticed  in  liis  descrifitions  of  the  snbjo'Cts  of 
Tiiissionary  teacliiny.  'Ilie  great  fact  of  tht  Kcsurrtction  of  Christ,  TrMth 
was  always  pfoniiuc-nt  iu  the  misaionflry  adclft-ises  of  tlie  Ajjoatles,  is 
iiowhiC^re  nifntioned  by  rji3.1iop  Coleiiso  when  he  specifies  the  things  whicU 
a  iiiissioiiiiry  is  bfiund  to  t*ach.  In  another  book,  wliieh  is  not  now  before 
ns,  ISibhop  Col<-nso  lias  dja'wn  very  largo  inferencea  froJn  the  frequency  or 
infrequency  with  whicii  certain  sacred  names  oecur  in  portiona  of  Iloly 
"W'nl.  Without  inttiidiiig  to  press  equally  large  concktsiuns  from  a  fact  of 
the  suini.'  niitiiro,  we  cannot  but  regard  it  ss  worthy  of  note  that  the  ouno 
of  Jesus  douB  not  occur  in  tlie  whole  of  this  missionary  lecture,  except, 
quotations  from  a  Zulu  cat«ciiist. 


Noiues  of  Books.  347 

libny  other  stateraente  in  this  address  are  remarkable  for  what  we  would 
nther  call  their  inadequacy  than  their  incorrectness  ;  and  wo  refer  to  them 
as  indicating  a  habit  which  we  take  to  be  characteristic  of  Bisliop  Colenso 
— a  habit  of  looking  earnestly  at  one  half  of  the  truth,  and  shutting  his 
^es  to  the  other  half,  or  at  least  saying  nothing  about  it  Tlius  the 
Bishop's  view  of  his  own  office  is,  that  he  "  is  commissioned  by  the  Queen 
of  England,  in  the  name  of  our  National  Church,  to  be  a  preacher  and  a 
teacher  to  the  heathen,  as  wt^ll  as  to  others,  of  God's  eternal  truth  and  lova" 
Now,  without  pretem'.in;;  t.)  accurate  knowledge  of  the  terms  in  which  a 
bishop's  patent  is  written,  we  very  much  doubt  whether  that  only  commis- 
Bion  which  Bishop  Colenso  has  received  from  the  Queen  contains  any  such 
authorization  as  he  states.  We  do  not  wish  to  fastt'n  on  him  tliat  objec- 
tionable t«Qet  of  Hobbes  by  which  the  authority  of  the  Church  is  resolved 
into  the  authority  of  the  Commonwealth  :  but  surely  it  must  be  known  to 
Bishop  Colenso,  that  the  commission  to  teach  and  preach  is  given  to  every 
minister  of  the  Church  of  England  by  the  bishop  who  ordained  him  in  the 
name  of  Christ. 

If  in,  some  of  his  statements  Bishop  Colenso  errs  in  the  way  of  deficiency, 
he  cannot  in  others  be  acquitted  of  the  opposite  fault  of  exaggeration. 
How  painfully  contrasted  are  the  terms  in  wliicli  he  magnifies  the  authority 
of  the  deductions  of  scientific  observers,  and  those  in  which  he  depreciates — 
almost  annihilates — the  authority  of  the  statements  of  Scripture  !  Thus  the 
furmer  are  described  as  God's  own  revelations  of  truth,  the  revelations  of 
modem  science,  certain  results,  facts  which  we  ourselves  know  ;  while 
Ihe  laMer  are  not  infallible,  impossible,  stories  which  cannot  be  taught  as 
credibla  We  look  in  vain  for  a  few  respectful  words  as  to  the  authority  of 
Holy  Writ,  for  a  few  modest  words  as  to  the  often  proved  fallibility  of 
linman  reasoning.  The  confident  language  in  which  absolute  certainty  is 
claimed  for  his  own  opinions,  the  triumphant  tone  in  which  he  anticipates 
the  authoritative  promulgation  of  those  opinions  on  his  arrival  in  Natal, 
are  characteristic  of  the  same  habit  of  mind.  Bid  it  not  occur  to  the 
bishop  that  such  a  tone  is  not  at  all  in  harmony  with  the  shrewd  advice 
'which  he  quotes  from  a  Zulu  catechist,  "  of  the  necessity  of  a  missionary 
sent  to  a  people  like  the  Zulus,  not  beginning  at  once  to  speak  with, 
■violence  to  them,  and  lay  down  the  law  with  a  loud  voice,  saying,  I  will 
epeak  out,"  &c  ? 

The  first  subject  announced  in  the  beginning  of  this  lecture — tlic  actual 

Tesult  of  the  Bishop's  missionary  work  among  the  Zulus — is  touched  upon 

«nly  in  five  or  abc  pages  near  the  end.     It  is  but  just  to  the  Bishop  to  say 

that  we  do  not  look  on  this  as  intended  to  be  a  complete  statement  of  the 

Tesulta  of  seven  years'  labour  ;  but  such  as  it  is  we  place  it  before  our  readers. 

He  appeals  first  to  the  establishment  of  a  school  of  Zulu  boys,  whom  he  had 

binder  instruction  for  five  years,  at  the  end  of  which  they  returned  to  their 

iomea,  and,  it  is  taken  for  granted,  "  fell  back  si)eedily  into  the  habits  of 

the  kraaL"     The  Bishop,  however,  is  confident  that  his  "  work  would  still 

abide  in  some  of  them ;"  and  in  proof  of  it  he  mentions  that  one  has 

Tetumed  to  work  as  a  printer,  and  has  corresponded  with  him  in  England. 

He  appeals  also  to  extracts  &om  letters  and  sermons  of  native  catechists 

employed  by  him  :  and  he  concludes  this  part  by  saying  to  his  hearers, 

"You  have  seen  the  methodical  business-like  way  in  which  my  native 

printer  is  pursuing  his  work,  and  you  have  heard  the  tone  of  my  catechista" 

Here,  too,  we  must  note  a  deficiency  in  the  Bishop's  way  of  measuring  the 

effect  which  is  to  be  expected  from  missionary  work.     The  way  of  stating 

lesolts  in  the  earliest  records  of  such  work,  which  also  is  still  followed,  we 


348 


The  ConUmpoyaty  RtvUw. 


believe,  in  many  misaionary  reports,  is  of  this  kind,—*'  ro  many  porsoua 
retX'iveKl  the  Wok!  ;  eo  many  persons  were  baptizeti"  (Acts  ii,  41,  &e.)-  Itia 
of  courao  posaibla  that  nil  the  yontlia  ami  all  thu  catecluBta  whom  Bishop 
CoIeoBo  mentioiiB  did  roci^ivc  tlic  Word,  and  were  baptized  hy  tiiui ;  but  ive 
cannot  help  ohscrviug  that  be  times  not  stato  this  fact  with  regard  to  any  one 
of  them.  If  they  wore  thiia  converted  hy  his  inatninientality  to  Chri3tiamty, 
then  it  may  be  that  this  omiasion,  like  other  deticienci^es  which  we  have 
noted,  is  nnly  a  mark  of  ths  liishop'g  skill  in  iidaiiting  hia  arguments  and 
atatemcnt3  to  his  hcarCTs:  at  in.  an  hasty  nnddiscuraiToaconipoaition  jis  tliia 
iBcture,  he  may  hsivc  left  out  many  things  inadvertently.  We  wliuM  imt 
treat  sneli  lieficiunciea  as  suffioient  evidtuM  that  the  Trriter  doca  not  fully 
aftcept  the  Christian  Crue-is.  But  they  are  sufltcieiit  to  itiise  a  doubt,  wliith 
the  future  -will  solve,  not  uith'ly  iis  to  liia  adhe&ion  to  traditionary  Intorpre- 
tations  uf  Scrijitute,  nnr  incirely  as  to  tho  Vftlut!  of  tha  results  of  his  mis- 
aioiiRry  work,  nor  inetely  as  toi  his  aci;[Uaint«ncfei  with  tlie  motives  of  a  tmu 
Christrau  missionary,  hut  ateo  as  to  hia  loyalty  to  thu  fundamental  iirtide* 
of  thi!  Christian  faith,  and  to  tha  Word  of  Ijod  by  which  that  fiiith 
Cometh  to  ruen. 


A  Uistarxj  of  the  CommnnweaUh  of  Fhrencs.     By  T.  A.  Troluipe.     Vols 
iii.  and  iv.     London  :  Cliapmaii  and  Hall,      18C5. 

The  appearance  of  thesa  Tolumes  could  not  liave  Ixjon  better  timfid.  Tlier* 
scarcely  ei-er  Wa9  a  strangcir  reacting  of  the  past  than  whun,  hist  Novenil-or, 
an  Italian  Parliament  iuet  in  tho  CiUfiUe-Conto  Hall  of  the  Palazzo  Publico 
at  Floreinco, — that  satne  Itall  which  had  boen  built  for  a  parliainejit,  when 
parliaments  were  scarce,  three  hundred  and  suventy  years  ngo.  Tljere, 
encircled  by  t^TanniGa^with  a  Sforza  at  Jlilaii,  a  IJurgia  in  Rome,  wth 
French  and  Spanish  annieB  marching  and  remarchiug  on  tlie  frontier, — a. 
free  popular  conn«il  deliberntod  and  governed :  at  a  time  when,  of  oil 
Spain,  only  sevGiitccn  oc  Qightcen  cities  sent  delegates  to  tho  Cortes,  when 
the  Parliament  of  France  was  little  more  than  a  eoncEavo  of  lawyers,  wlitn 
tho  Council  of  Venice  had  been  clusbd  for  two  handled  years  i^ainal  frw 
elections,  Florence  possessed  something  of  a  genuine  parliament.  It 
certainly  wjw  not  representative  in  our  aenap  of  tJiat  word,  for  the  citizcBB 
did  not  elect  to  it ;  they  theraselvea  composed  it  ;  all  nf  a  certain  age  and 
aocial  status  could  claim  a  seat  there.  This  monetet  council  could  meet 
only  by  ri^lays  ;  but  a  third  of  its  memliers  were  in  power  at  onee.  Still 
it  was  the  people  In  permanent  session,  and  not,  as  before,  the  people 
merely  called  now  and  then  to  asgembla  in  tho  open  piazza  to  listen  to 
Bomo  bare  statement  of  the  Signinn',  nnd  confirm  it  by  a  atercoty|»3d  assent 
It  was  a  rude  attempt  towards  great  things  :  perhaps  it  was  premature  ; 
certainly  it  was  ahort-liTaJ  ;  but  its  existence  ia  the  centre  fact  of  a  period 
of  history  teeming  with  importance.  None  of  thr:>^e  who  saw  the  deputii^s 
from  all  Italy  taking  their  places  the  other  day  in  tho  Palazzo  PubUcy, 
who  saw  the  old  hall  bronght  again  ta  ita  oCd  use,  and  listened  to  a 
Gapponi  and  a  Kicaaoli  taking  the  oaths,  but  must  have  had  one  thought  ia 
hia  mind,  one  name  ou  his  lips — the  thought  of  the  Great  Council  in  1495, 
the  name  of  him  who  deWsed  and  toughly  carried  it  out  step  by  step  ;  and 
he  no  highhom  statysman,  no  merchant  of  the  city,  uo  native  Florentine 
at  bU  ;  a  natumlLxed  FerraiKSc,  a  raondicant  monk,  but  tho  greatest  mind., 
the  tmo'it  gentleman  of  the  whole  century — Gimlaino  Savonarola.  It  vns 
tbii  tirst  timt}  that  a.comtitution  was  ever  bnjit  up  by  Bormi>na ;  the  only 
tiiDQ,  perhaps,  that  an  ecclesiastic  sot  on  foot  a  really  popular  reform. 


ri 


Notices  of  Books.  349 

This  is  the  part  of  hia  book  in  which  Jlr.  Trollope  ib,  we  think,  most 
aaocessfuL  Tha  account  of  tho  four  stirrii^  years,  from  the  flight  of  Fietro 
de'M!edici  to  the  execution  of  Savonarola,  is  written  with  vigour  and  taste  ; 
there  are  scenes  in  it  which  well  suit  tho  powers  of  a  writer  hitherto  known 
to  us  chiefly  as  a  novelist ;  and  here,  too,  he  had  the  guidance  of  one  of  the 
best  of  modem  Italian  biograpliers.  Professor  Villari.  Of  course,  the 
question  of  Savonarola's  prophetic  claims  comes  in  for  examination, — it  is 
old  as  the  matter  of  Socrates'  Zai^utv  or  Joan  of  Arc's  visions ;  but  we 
cannot  tliink  Mr.  Trollope  has  set  about  it  as  a  fair  critic  should  ;  he  has 
strayed  away  from  his  point  into  flippancy  often,  sometimes  into  irreverenca 
Surely,  if  we  understand  it  aright,  there  is  no  call  for  such  a  sentence  as 
this :  '*  Will  it  be  suthcient  to  attribute  his  vacillations  and  contradictions 
to  that  obscuration  of  intellect  produced  by  the  too  close  contact  of  the 
mind  with  the  monster-peopled  cloud-world  of  supernaturaliani,  wliich, 
unceasingly  protested  against  as  it  is  by  tho  everlasting  fuudaiuontal  laws 
of  our  nature,  has  dimmed  and  distorted  so  many  an  intelligence  as  bright 
and  powerful  as  his?"  (iv.  191).  Wewonder  that  Mr.  Trollope,  abundantly 
alluding  as  he  does  in  his  footnotes  to  his  o^\'n  historical  works,  takes  no 
notice  of  a  labourer  in  the  same  field  wiio  has  done  as  much  as  himself  to 
draw  attention  to  these  times.  If  tho  book  be  a  novel,  he  certainly  should 
have  no  cause  therefore  to  slight  it ;  and  fuw  histories  yet  written  show, 
wo  think,  more  real  historical  insight  tlian  "lioraola."  Ibere  is  a  sentence 
there  which  is  a  volume  in  itself  towards  elucidating  the  character  of 
Savonarola :— "  It  is  not  force  of  intellect  which  causes  ready  repulsion 
from  the  aberrations  and  eccentricities  of  greiitness,  any  more  than  it  is 
force  of  vision  that  causes  the  eye  to  explore  the  warts  on  a  face  bright  with 
human  expression  ;  it  is  simply  tlie  negation  of  high  sensibilities." 

The  years  of  the  fiiar's  power  in  Florence  are  certainly  the  most  import- 
ant of  the  hundred  years  over  which  Mr.  Trollope'a  history  extends ;  they  form 
an  oasis  in  the  dreary  record  of  how,  one  after  another,  the  siifcguards  of  the 
State  fell  before  the  encroachments  of  one  merchant  family.  Time  was 
when  it  was  the  habit  to  look  at  the  Medici  exclusively  from  a  literary  and 
artistic  point  of  view.  Koscoe  threw  a  halo  round  tlie  name  ;  others 
followed  who  described  all  the  scholars  of  that  day,  and  could  fmd  no 
parallel  for  the  brilliant  gatherings  at  Careggi  without  going  back  to  the 
Porch  and  Grove  at  Athens.  Mr.  Hallam  is  quite  as  enthusiastic  in  hia 
description  of  that  societ}',  but  still  there  is  M-ith  him  an  undertone  of 
doubt  whether  another  view  might  not  be  taken  of  all  this  refinement. 
When  he  speaks  of  Lorenzo  de'  Medici  looking  down  from  Fiesole  on  all 
the  glories  of  the  city  beneath  him,  "  his  eye  might  turn,"  he  says,  "  to  the 
trophies  of  a  republican  Government  that  was  rapidly  giving  way  before  the 
citizen-prince  who  now  surveyed  them."  Tliis  is  the  "•*  amari  aliquid"  to 
the  real  lover  of  Italy.  The  price  Florence  paid  for  all  the  brilliancy  of 
Lorenzo's  Court  was  nothing  less  than  her  liberty.  We  know  it  now  better 
than  it  was  known  when  Mr.  Hallam's  "Literature  of  Europe"  appeared  : 
the  late  changes  in  Tuscany  have  cleared  the  matter  up.  Documents 
jealously  guarded  in  times  of  despotism  are  now  brought  to  the  light  of  day : 
among  many  fiimily  records  so  disentombed  are  memoirs  and  treatises  by 
GuicciardinL  Few  students,  as  they  read  the  old  historian's  somewhat  prosy 
volumes,  ever  thought  that,  by  tho  side  of  what  was  to  go  forth  to  the  world 
W  correct  and  staid,  he  was  jotting  down  more  familiar,  more  lively,  and  cer- 
twnly  more  trustworthy  accounts,  destined  to  be  published  in  the  first  years 
of  Ms  city's  recovered  freedom.  Of  these  remains,  perhaps  the  most 
interesting  is  the  dialogue  on  the  Government  of  Florence.     "  Its  object," 


350 


Tli£  Contemporary  Revuw. 


Bays  GuitciaMini,  "is  to  give  n  sincere  and  faithful  narrative  of  wlint  was 
in  times  past  ilisooursed  by  oiur  niac^t  and  most  iuHuentiaJ  citizens :  these 
tliscoarsL'»  I  Imve  thought  good  to  preserve  in  writing,  aa  thoy  were  relati-d 
to  ine  "bj  my  father.*'  It  is  cast  joat  like  ont  of  Cicero's  dialoguoA  :  wi5  have 
tha  gossip  of  tha  Loggio  or  the  gtaver  firgumeuta  in  the  Council  put  into  the 
moutha  of  the  dtHbrt^iit  pWty  leodera  of  thu  day.  ^Vb  uWu  mufh  Xo  Mr. 
TroUopG  for  bringing  thcao  frtiits  of  Italian  research  witliiii  ivnch  of  Eoglisli 
readers-  Many  now  Li^hte  ai\!  throivn  on  th«  oUl  scene  aint  iictora  ;  much  of 
witnt  jiiisaed  Iwfoii"  for  Thlodiooan  iiutynificence  ia  soen  now  to  hare-  been  hiil 
stage  linery  ]>nt  on  to  net  n  )tiirt  in  j  the  luaruing  is  a.  patter  of  l'afiliiuti:kMa 
Plfltonisin  iseGkuig  to  tlrowu  all  uriea  for  trna  freedom  ;  the  putronoge  a 
way  >:"f  hnyiilR  so  many  applauding  hands  and  luouthB, 

Without  going  iutt>  «lutail,  we  juay  notice  one  or  two  pointa  in  which  we 
thinlt  Mr,  Troilopo  luis  rightly  iiniki"stoo(l  the  spirit  of  the  nge  ho  ^vritt-e  of. 
One  is  his  view  of  so'Ctdlfd  Italiiiii  patrioitisni ;  there  really  was  no  sui 
thing  known  tli'pn,  in  Florvncc  lees  tl^ti  in  any  [ilncu  in  Italy. 

"  Tlw'fe  waa  &  congenital  rlrp,  ihu  [irL'seni;!.'  of  which  ftin  bo  note'l  iiL  Uip  carlic-a(  ilerelop- 
meniR  <^f  the  Flbrentiikc  politiroL  Evsl^iti,  th&t  BeLfishni.-st'  wbicli  □oul'd  never  li^jun  ttuit 
liberty  in  an  impiMaibk'  louditiou  lor  any  community  save  oiic  of  ■which  lie  membon 
IpvB  freedom  for  otlier§  qa  well  as  ibr  tUemsalries," — (iii.  lOB.) 

The  principle,  too,  wliich  he  lays  down  for  the  right  resding  of  tho  old  Italian 
chronicli'rs  is  valuable;  we  are  at  Ihi:  outset  sliockert  with  what  E^eenis  to 
bo  the  laxity  of  thvir  judgment*  :  they  record  the  vilest  acts  without  a  hint 
of  displi^asure,  The  truth  is  not  that  thia  springs  froia  any  luotal  ohtiiBeneaa ; 
it  is  tho  rvsult  of  the — 

"  pwuiiarly  objootivo  icndcacy  <sf  llio  Italian  niinnJ,  which  led  her  fltateamen  iind  hiMorinni 
to  Bxauiinc  what  irns,  vatlier  thau  what  onghi  to  be,  &rnl  to  consider  what  was  the  heM, 
ii'lBcat,  a?iil  iii[>st  iirudi'iit  arrati g'Pui'ent  of  liutiim  illairs,  on  the  hypiithe^ia  that  iD^akimJ 
nre  iriovod  by  aum  and  stich  jiseoioas,  rather  tfann  to  dlnni^  the  degree  of  moral  bluac  diie 
to  LhitHt  who  arc  bo  moved,  or  to  epcctUate  on  the  pcuatbiliLf  of  cliniijiatiug  the  aotum  of 
The  J^aaaiona  in  qucalioJ]*" — (iii.  l-l)).' 

In  tliis  View,  wp  Bgn-e  with  Mr.  Troilopo,  hes  all  the  mystery  or  no  myste' 
of  Miirfiiavelli's  ranch-can vassed  "Principe. 

I!<-foro  laking  leiive  of  this  history,  we  mnat  tlirow  in  one  word  of  questi 
as  to  the  ta.ste  of  tlse  style  \i\  whiuh.  it  is  written,  Whiiu  lUwaya  lively  aii' 
intt*rtsting,  it  ia  occaaiuimlly  slumivl'ully  lacking  in  dignity.  Surely  Mr, 
TroUop4<  should  amend  such  passagi-'S  us  tlu'  fuUuwing,  bufore  htj  ask?  us  to 
accf^pt  him  as  a  gi'ayi.'  historian  :—"  We  rather  think  our  young  Lt>reiizo  cjui 


01, 


I 


-walk  ahead  of  any  prinM  in  Italy  in  the  mattj^r  of  spk>ndid  hospitality 

{iii,  ff79).     "  Tlie  whole  pith  of  tl  ----- 

(iii  1-I5J,     "  Pietro,  soi^big  that  thi?  gtmiu  wua  up"  (iv.  J5).     .iVnd  why  not 


{iii,  379).     "TIki  whole  pith  of  the  coustilution  wiia  thimhle-rigg'Of!  .iway 


^ 


give  us  shorter  and   Mter  knuwji  wi>nta  than  "  rcpriatiitBtion,"  *'  rivolizu, 
with,"  "  exacerbated  "1 


Th^  Eronmiiic  J'oaition  of  the  Briitsh  Labourer.  By  H£?rRr  Fawobiv^ 
M.P.,  Pmfeeaor  of  Political  Kconomy  in  the  Univtsraity  of  Oamliridgf. 
London  aad  Cambiidge  :  MrtcniiJliui  &  Co. 

This  volume  nous-iets  of  lectures  dnUvored  beiforo  the  UuiveiBity  of  Cam--' 
bridgti.  Ihu  subject  is  lyell  adivpted  to  the  audiuucu  ;  jt  ia  troatvd  with 
spirit  and  clwiTne^a,  and  with  grcuter  impartiiilJty  than  might  huve  K-eu 
expected  fnim  one  who  is  cliieily  known  to  the  public  an  the  advucato  of  tint 
righta  of  th'U  working  man.     The  maiu  object  of  th»  Lectuiea  is  to  rDQum- 


1 


Notices  of  Books.  35 1 

mend  the  principle  of  co-operation.  The  Professor  begins  by  pointing  oat 
the  defects  of  our  present  system  of  labour.  These  are,  the  gigantic  exten- 
sion of  pauperism,  the  degmded  condition  of  the  agricultural  labourer,  tlie 
absence  of  all  motive  for  industry  and  saving,  the  want  uf  a  common  interest 
between  employer  and  employed,  the  consequent  ineffectiveness  of  labour, 
and  the  danger  of  losing  our  best  workmen  as  the  advantages  of  emigration 
become  more  generally  understood.  He  points  out  that  tlio  position  of  the 
labourer  cannot  be  permanently  improved  by  any  liberality  on  tlie  part  of 
the  employer,  or  by  increased  cost  to  the  consumer ;  and  arguea,  with  great 
force,  that  the  best  remedy  lies  in  co-operation,  either  in  its  perfect  form,  as 
where  a  number  of  operatives  combine  to  purchase  a  cotton  mill,  or  in  its 
imperfect  stage  of  copartnership,  where  the  capitalist  admits  his  workmen 
to  a  share  of  the  profits.  He  hopes  to  see  the  same  principle  applied  in 
agriculture  by  the  instrumentality  of  companies  of  peasant  proprietoi's,  and 
complains  of  the  right  of  cntaQ  and  other  legal  difficidties  which  now 
restrict  the  sale  of  land.  That  such  associations  are  pn:5sible,  lie  proves  by 
the  example  of  several  which  are  now  in  successful  operation  both  in  Francs 
and  England.  At  the  same  time,  he  allows  that  our  labouring  classes  must 
reach  a  Idgher  moral  and  social  standard  than  tliey  liave  yet  attained,  before 
we  can  hope  to  see  the  system  widely  introduced  amongst  ourselves  ;  and  in 
order  to  prepare  them  for  this  result,  ha  advocates  compulsory  education  for 
the  poor.  In  the  course  of  the  work  Professor  Pawcett  gives  some  excellent 
remarks  upon  strikes,  and  the  conditions  under  which  they  are  advisable. 
He  ends  -with  a  chapter  on  emigration  and  immigration,  in  which  we  meet 
with  the  somewhat  startling  suggestion  that  we  may  live  to  see  swarms  of 
Chinese  pouring  into  England  to  replace  the  native  British  labourer,  who 
will  have  disappeared  to  seek  his  fortune  in  the  colonies. 

We  are  glad  to  find  that  the  author  has  viewed  these  questions,  for  tho 
most  part,  as  a  statesman  and  a  moralist,  and  not  merely  as  an  economist. 
We  are  sure  that  tho  reason  wliy  tlie  conclusions  of  politicsd  economy  have 
been  looked  upon  with  suspicion  by  practical  men  generally,  and  respited  as 
a  mockery  by  the  working  man,  is  the  perhaps  unconscious  conviction  that 
one  aspect  of  a  great  (question  had  been  magnified,  to  tlio  neglect  of  other 
aspects  no  less  important.  As  an  instance  of  the  abandonment  of  the  old 
economical  traditions,  we  may  refer  to  the  remarks  on  population.  'Die 
"gloomy  speculations"  of  the  old  political  economists  are  said  to  have  arisen 
from  their  not  foreseeing  the  great  results  of  free  trade  and  emigration.  Our 
danger  is  not  now  Irom  over-population  but  from  under-population ;  and 
as  for  the  limitation  on  food,  "the  valley  of  tlie  Mississippi  would  provide 
corn  for  the  world." 

The  portion  of  the  work  wliich  wo  consider  least  satisfactory  is  that  on  tlio 
tenure  of  land.  We  might  almost  conjecture  that  it  was  written  rather 
with  a  view  to  the  Brighton  hustings  than  to  the  Cambridge  schools.  Thus 
we  are  told  that  the  "  custom  of  primogeniture  is  wicked  and  mischievous ;" 
"  every  feeling  of  our  nature  is  against  selecting  one  of  ii  family  for  special 
fiivour;"  "in  a  free  and  enlightened  country  no  body  of  men  will  be  pcr- 
mitt^jd  to  exercise  legislative  power  simply  Iwcauso  they  have  inherited  rank 
and  wealth."  And  all  this  is  said  without  a  hint  that  tlicre  is  anything  on 
the  opjiosite  side,  though  so  distinguislied  a  writer  as  Jlontiilenilxirt  attri- 
butes England's  greatness  mainly  to  tlie  two  eii'ects  of  tliis  practice,  viz.,  tho 
existence  of  a  great  territorial  aristocracy,  and  the  ab80ii)tion  of  tlie  younger 
branches  of  noble  families  in  tho  nuiss  of  the  people.  Besides  the  feeling 
above  expressed,  the  author  adduces  the  following  ai^nnents  against  primo- 
geniture.    It  is  for  the  interest  of  the  community  that  land  should  be  culti- 


352 


Ths  Contemporary  Review. 


vatorl  with  tli6  utmost  efficiency.  Prirn<!f,'ii-'iiltiire  JeLers  IIkj  lll^^^llMl^lP^ 
front  (Iditig  tliis,  tofduse  by  iinprovinj^  liia  ItLnd  ho.  Wf>u!il  only  t-iirich  thci 
«ldust  son,  M'tn:i  is  nlfciiiJy  fsivoiict'Ll  Iteyonil  the  rcaL  For  the  sanio  nyison 
hi!  will  lint  vpiituiv  to  i'i;ri|iloy  liis  ciL[Hitftl  in  any  wny  ■whii^h  \&  nut  iinmtnli- 
ately  productive,  Ijistly,  n  gtesit  ]:inilo\vii6r  does  iiut  ciiltivtitt  his  o^vni  hind, 
and  laiiil  is  not  ciiltivatuJ  c-tH'ctivcly  cxc^cpt  by  the  ownet. 

Tliere  is  nut  a  gin^le^  step  iu  tliia  ur^nmu'-tit  «'hic!i  is  titit  ea])ftlilo  of  dis- 
proof. First,  iis  Prt'U'ssur  Fawi-utt  shows  in  this  vcty  I>o>ik,  wln-n  ajiwikiiig 
of  the  enchiflint;  <>!'  Kp]iing  Fiiri'st,  it  is  not  iilwitys  I'ur  Ihii  lutuix'st  ofthu 
comnmnity  tl..:t  \xw\  slimiUI  bn  mltiviitM  with  the  «liiu«t  efficiency- 
Secomlly,  thi?  rivitcr  of  an  uiitaiU'il  csttiti-  jil'l'iI  nut  beiiiftit  thi-  eldest  auii 
esclnsivL'U'  by  improving  thy  estnte,  for  thu  oUior  I'liildnm  are  iisn/dly  ] 
viileil  ibr  by  .1  ^■bai'gL'  011  the  cstjite.  Thin],  lis  n  iiintt^T  yf  futt,  ^TtMi-  worki 
whtcli  are  nuly  jji-'jsjjemtivfly  rfiiiuuorativt.',  huvy  in  pajjt  titiiL-s  Ijvcit  umle 
taki^n  cliifily  by  j,rvnt  hindown^-TS.  Fourth,  thwe  is  no  rariimi^  euperior 
that  of  St'iitlimil  :!U(1  Kortblk,  which  is  ahnost  eutij'vly  iu  the  haink  0; 
tenimlr-J'airiiL'ry. 

PiH>fi'S3iir  Fiiwr-ijtl  fipiicara  to  us  equally  nwli  in  his  reiuarka  about  te 
right  ;iiiit  ih'.'  {■niiditinii  iif  IIri  Jij^iculttirul  liiTifjiirer,  Hu  sikujs  to  thluk  if 
neiarfdiLS  lliut  tiiu  O'lit  whciiiM  b*.-  i-iiisiid  in  (";oiiai'']iit!nci..'  of  iitiiipiJVL'Hiwits 
eflj''rt('d  by  thi'  tt-'uiint,  Wi-  niiiy  fiiirly  iiek  why  tin-  truJinl-funittT  is  to  1 
privih'j^ed  in  this  n'fi]"'(;t  bcyujid  oUut  idnaJi-a.  All  lljut  \w.  liiis  a  rij^ht 
'.■liiijii  is  tn  have  hit<  capita]  rftiimiMl  with  iiitcnjst.  In  the  eiiim.'  way  n'e 
infiy  iiwk,  "Why  is  the  o\nier  of  jmiperty  ici  tlie  cmmlry  to  hi.'  pM-Iinh'd 
fruiii  tiiking  ailviintJLp?  of  tlit  I'l^o  in  thb.'  vidiie  tni'  his  hind  imy  incn-e 
thrm  the  OHHior  of  pippcily  in  London  I  Yetj  in  the  ktt(?r  case,  jki  uiiu 
thiiiltH  it  unfair  thnt  the  rent  BhouH  be  miBiHl  whon  tiiB  buihUng  li;us(;  luia 
run  out. 

Pniffssor  Faivcett  cLiinia  to  sptuit  fiijui  porsonal  knowledge  of  tlic  ngri- 
cultunil  lalwurwr  j  but  iiv  think  few  of  llie  clui^y,  and  the^e  ato  really  our 
best  aiitborilies.  on  the^  eobjL'i:t,  would  allffw  his  duscnjition.  "As  a  j-wu-ml 
rule,"  hf  snys,  "hn  i>aii  nctthtT  n'.i'J  n"r  wtjIl- ;"  "do  liofHi  clit-i-ni  hi* 
raonot'onoiis  i-arccr;"  "hie  strL-npih  i*  iin-niiitm^ly  exhaiiBted  lr"ui  bad' 
living."  'l-if  conrw,  nil  nix*  agrt'H-'il  tint  tho  labrjmvr  is,  iw  n  riile,  Ijadly 
housed  aud  uudi:r[inid;  but  th:it  ia  far  from  justifjiuH  thL'fuutrjstiitlvniptud. 
to  1k«  iliMivu  1:m;Ih*(.tii  liitn  und  tin'  mochiinic:  iji  fciLH.']i  jiassitgL'S  lis  the  jjro- 
eediitg.  Fsir  fnun  jirfinntnrc  pxhaustii-n,  thf,  ngritiulturil  hibouuT,  if  be  bus 
been  u  BobtT  laan,  pit'3i'rvr,-s  hii^  Iimllh  Jiiiii  stri'iiyth  to  a  gresitHr  agt  than 
auy  other  (iliiss  of  working  iiu-n.  As  to  lln'  bo]i«-lfB«iieiia  of  his  lift-,  we 
ctmnot  a^Tff;  with  PrnfL'Ssop  F'awcutt  th.'it  tin-  oiiiy  object  of  hope  19  tho 
juirchoflc  of  land.  As  Jou^  ijs  In?  may  hopo  for  q  p^ittayo  of  his  rmii — hojw 
to  lie  nmiTit'd — liopc  t!iat  hia  i:inhlreii  ni'ny  do  well  at  si-hotd — that  one  umy 
lie  n  pupil-teacliLT,  unothcr  a  colonist — that  one  nitiy  Mu-cwd  iu  trade,  mi 
auother  in  aL-rviMj — wi?  nd'usn  to  consider  the  hibuurer  dcHtitiitii  of  hupi 
eveii  though  he  ehould  have  to  ft])]dy  tc  tho  jiariKh  for  ndief  in  his  old  ogc. 
"We  i:a,n  scl-  no  rL'ason  why  Hudi  nn  ajipiica  ion  shoubl  be  considered  more 
dejpiidinj;  to  hiiii  than  the  ii|iplit'atic>n  fur  n  jjension  in  a  hi^'hcr  eliiss. 
Wlu'lher  it  be  50  or  not,  the  LUiowivr  ofteti  ends  Ids  days  wiOioni  p;irish 
relief,  beiiij-  Giippcirted  either  by  his  own  piist  siivhigB,  or  by  the  contribu- 
tions of  hia  chiidn-n.  I'jiOii  ibt'  ailbjej'l  nf  educiitioii,  we  will  only  say  tliut 
Prof'i^asfvr  Fiiweett  gceius  to  liai'u  hoard  ntrthiu^;  of  adult  acliools,  which  are 
now  doing  so  ninch  to  (.dvili/c  the  ayricultunil  [loor. 

Out  space  will  nut   permit  ttf   ti>  dwell  upim  other  points  whieh  mi^ht 
provoke  criticism.     We  wonbl,  howe^-er,  ifmiu,d  Professor  Fawcett  tl: 


iJ 


Notices  of  Books.  353 

■views  of  Mr.  J.  S.  Jlill,  with  reapect  to  division  of  property  and  peasant 
proprietors,  are  far  from  being  universally  accepted  amongst  French  autho- 
rities. About,  in  his  late  ivork,  "  Le  Proyres,"  cxpressea  a  very  strong 
opinion  against  both,  and  his  condimination  13  confirmed  by  that  of  Lavergne, 
than  whom  no  one  is  more  competent  to  fonn  a  judgment  of  the  agricultural 
condition  of  the  different  countries  of  Europe. 

In  conclusion,  we  would  take  the  liUrty  of  recommending  a  few  altera- 
tions in  the  next  edition  of  this  work.  In  p.  149,  we  are  told  that  "machi- 
nery is  now  so  perfect  that  we  can  hardly  anticijjate  a  che:ii)ening  in  the 
processes  of  manufacturing," — a  remark  which  aj)pears  to  us  aliout  as  philo- 
sophical as  the  famous  assertion  tliat  the  subjects  for  epic  poems  are  now  all 
used  up.  P.  203  we  reatl  that  "no  tongue  can  adequately  express  the  suffer- 
ings which  our  poor  endured  at  thf  time  when  Malthus  wrote,"  There 
should  be  some  moderation  even  in  describing  the  ill  effects  of  the  Tory 
rvffimK.  In  pp.  148-50,  speaking  of  the  probable  advance  in  the  price  of 
meat  and  of  raw  material,  the  author  apj>ears  to  have  overlooked  the  efforts 
that  are  being  now  made  to  bring  over  fresh  meat  from  abroad,  and  tlie  con- 
stantly increasing  ra])i<lity  of  communication,  which  tends  to  equalize  the 
value  of  commoilities  at  home  antl  in  the  colonies.  There  is  a  more  import- 
ant omission  in  his  inquiry  into  the  future  prospects  of  labour  in  England. 
Leforc  introducing  his  Chinese,  he  should  at  least  liave  made  the  most  of 
our  unemployed  native  labour.  AVe  should  have  been  glad  to  hear  his 
opinion  as  to  the  ]iossibility  of  giving  greater  efficiency  to  tlie  work  of  our 
soldiers,  our  prisoners,  and  our  women. 

We  had  noticed  several  instances  of  inconsistency  or  of  aM'kwardness  of 
expression  in  our  perusal  of  the  work  ;  but  will  only  mention  the  foUowuig 
as  undoubted  errnin  :~Y.  68,  for  epidemic,  read  endemic;  p.  103,  for 
Arseniie  Hauesaije,  reatl  Arsinc  Hoareaye;  p.  209,  for  married  men,  read 
moni&l  men. 


1.  A  Literal  Translation  of  the  Old  Testament,  on  definite  Rales  of  Trans- 

latiim,  from  the   Text  of  tlie    Vatican  Manimcript.      By  Herhax 

HEINPEriTEIt. 

2.  An  English  Version  of  the  Old  Testament,  from  tlie  Text  of  the  Vatican 

Manuscript.     Py  the  Same. 

3.  A   Collation  of  an   English  Version,  ^-c,  u>iih  the  Authorized  English 

Version.     By  the  8ame. 

4.  Corrections  of  tlie   Copies  of  tlie  Septvagini  Portion  of  tlie    Vatican 

Manuscript.     By  the  Sama 

These  books,  appropriately  issued  on  the  let  of  April,  1865,  are  well 
calculated  to  send  upon  a  fool's  errand  the  reader  who  seeks  from 
their  jiages  his  first  infonnation  respecting  their  subject.  Each  of  them  is 
Ijut  an  instalment  of  a  great  work  ;  for,  though  the  title-page  in  each  case 
implies  the  whole  of  the  Old  Testament,  it  is  only  the  Book  of  Genesis 
which  is  actually  before  us.  Now  if  Mr.  Heinfetter  had  read  Holmes's 
"Prefatio  ad  Genesin,"  or  Mai's  "Prolegomena"  to  his  edition  of  the 
Vatican  MS.,  or  the  note  in  the  text  of  that  edition,  which  must  have  met 
hia  eye  in  the  course  of  his  collation,  but  could  not  have  entered  his  mind, 
lie  would  have  learnt  tliat  the  Vatican  Manuscript,  of  which  he  speaks  so 
highly,  is  deficient  up  to  the  word  Trd\ii'  in  Gen.  xlvi.  29,  and  would  then 
We  hanlly  given  the  high  honour  of  Codex  B,  in  one  case  to  two  MSS. 


354 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


now  somewlmt  hard  to  identify,  and  m  the  Dther  to  two  ciirsivea  (Holmaa 
55  iiiiil  b^),  '\rh(i^  only  claim  to  the  distinction  lies  in  this,  tluit  they,  like 
it,  TL'stJi^  in  the  Vatican. 

Tho3[-  of  Diir  Tftnlora  who  hava  s«;ca  any  of  Mr  Ilciiifcttcr's  previous 
wiirks  well  know  ivhat  to  expect  in  his  "  Literal  Translation  of  tlia  Old 
Teatanitnt."  It  ia  indeed  a  litoml  tranaljition — sn  litem!  as  i^Jidily  tii  atiggcst 
the  words,  and  evr^n  in  many  cases  the  onler  of  the  original, — hut  rme  mailo 
iipun  jirinciplbS  which  ai^t  al  detiftnco  the  laws  of  Greek  grammar  and  the  usi^ej 
uf  tli-i^ek  idiom.  It  is  needk-ss  tfl  givt-  exfiiiiples  of  these,  or  of  Kngliah 
phrasi's  utti-riy  nnmtt:lligihSu  L-xci'pt  liy  Ti?niirrihg  lo  the  Greek  ;  such  rnaes 
oiiiiir  on  almost  evrvry  ]>agi!.  It  is  really  ii  jiity  that  I^tr,  Heiiil'elter,  whitst! 
'liiigentu  and  ainctsrity  art'  above  question,  should  ivasl*3  his  a-w-n  lime  and 
luoncy,  and  thi;  patiuuce  of  his  reailers,  by  tnuuthitions  suck  us  that 
ln'foro  us. 

In  hiji  Vf-rainn,  which  is  apparently  niade  from  Mui's  text,  to  the  neylnct 
of  Cai'afa'e  rc-adiu^s,  thrmyh,  in  Ch<;  translation,  Mr.  Heinfetter  Boeiiis  to 
regani  the  two  as  of  equal  authority,  lie  has  avoided  both  the  afl'fctatiou  of 
"Httreme  literaiity  ami  the  usi?  of  langnngo  contrary  to  the  English  idiom  ;  but 
these  improvements  ar«  baluncknl  hciM  and  thury  hy  th's  introduction  of  |M»ra- 
phrasea  and  explanations  which  wandiT  widtly  frwin  the  true  sftiw;  of  the 
original.  WhL>,  fur  instance,  would  recijgnise  in  "Divine  energy*  was  dis- 
played" a  ]jrai«r  reudoriiig  i>f  wi-jS^ia  6tov  ijrcipiptro'l  (tJi'U.  i,  2).  'ITn?  u-soof 
itaUi;3  tt"  denutt',  na  in  the  Authorized  Version,  woviis  which  have  uotliing 
ctJiTuspoiiding  to  them  in  thu  original  ia  comnion  in  Mr.  Jltitnfetter's  VL-raion  ; 
hut  wo  think  thnit  the  jnet  Limits  of  audi  une  are  fur  exceiided  when,  for 
"  Let  us  multo  iimti"  (tJeii.  i.  2G),  he  givrs  "  We,  that  is,  /  and  Mr/  ngnd 
vum,  Bhould  hnve  inaAn  iniin'fl  race.""!'  Sncih  hleniishca  will  he  fotinO  to 
render  the  "  Tninslatioii "  and  "Version"  iibsolutely  uswlesa  to  the  giuienil 
reailer,  for  whom  we  must  mj-poee  them  to  he  intended.  A  recollection 
of  Mr.  Hi-infetUir'fl  ]>eiiiiliai-itiea,  and  a  determination  to  tube  all  th,»t  ho 
gives  "  enin  gmno  snHs,"  may  eunhlc  the  remler  to  turn  his  "  Collation  "  to 
some  ftcctjiint,  aa  indicating  thti  moro  importiint  dilTutencea  which  euat 
between  tho  Hebrew  text  and  that  of  the  LXX.,  aa  BUpposed  to  he  repi 
aentcfi  in   the  Codei  Vaticanus. 

But  after  all,  are  not  siieh  translatiotta  and  versioiia  of  the  current  text 
the  Se [jitiia^int  and  cqUatioiia  thereof  with  the  Hebrew  or  with  the  autho- 
rized hjiLfliah  yer.-Hion,  hut  littly  bett«M  than  waato  of  timn  at  the  presimt 
moment?  Dught  not  eeholiirs  who  Jire  interested  in  thta  department  of 
Sacred  Litmatun,"  to  sot  themselvi^  to  work  to  discover^  aa  liir  as  may  l»e, 
what  is  tli»i  true  text  of  tliia  venerihle  Greek  Vereion  of  the  t'ld  Tqataunjiit^ 
by  ajiplyiny  to  it  the  same  criticid  labour  as  has  been  bestowed  by  whole 
^enenitioiif  of  learned  men  on  the  1  icuks  of  the  Jtew  J  Something  baa  indeed 
been  done  in  tljja  way-,  The  vohuiicB  of  Holmes  and  Pai-sons  art?  a  standing 
inonument  of  lihorality,  industry,  and  pei'aover.uice,  hut  unltirt5.m.itoly  tho 
Btateiiicnta  coittaint-d  in  thun;  eacinot  ho  relied  on  for  accnr.u;y,  though  the 
errui's  are  proliahly  neither  \V:\y  great  nor  very  important.  'J'ischeudorC,  too, 
hiTS  puhliahoct  an  edition  of  the  LXX.,  which  is  very  naefnlly  furnished  witli 
various  reaiUngs  from  three-  important  MS8.     The  puhllcntion  of  thfl  Codi-x 

•  In  this  *'  Lltf^rat  Trail slati on"  ibi?  pn:?aagfi  \»  TGadertJ,  "  ,\.  sji-irit  fiwfu  Otui  waj 
rnoviag;"  and  the  pnniphrasB  nlrovo  nuoti'd  is  ntldpil  ni  on  cipliiTinlinn.  H  nuta  si.Htnf 
forth  thut,  UATOixUng  to  .Mr.  KeiiifetttTS  ^foiainnlitnl  p: iiiL-iplna,  tlie  roiidLring  taiuLot  \m 
"n/"(i«i;,  (IP  she  article- aiu-H  tfe  ftxpri'iiscd  lj'-r>j-u  ("W."    ^    ^  _     i 

t  In  the  note  oil  thiii  verse  ia  the  "Truniilntion"  it  ia  argiied  tiiftt  lie  or«itin«iJ 
tha  first  ninn  by  Utiil.  and  tlie  i-o-upei'atiui!  &r  luua  in  tio  propajsitiaQ  of  hifl 
ari;  ituplieil  in  the  ililFurent  numbei's  i)r  the  veibs  in  Tur.ws  27,  26,  rwpeclivelj. 


JSb 


Notices  of  Books, 


355 


ft 


I 


Binaiticua  and  of  othtT  MSS.  by  the  eame  sclioLu',  nud  oF  "  I>,"  by  Gardiiml 
Mai,  only  need  to  Im  mentioned,  tJiou^Ii  tlie  POxiirewbiob  haye  Ijwu  detected 
iu  the  Now  Testament  portion  of  tbe  Canlinal's  work  must  moke  one  cautioua 
in  receiving  hi»  statemeut^i  respecting  the  Old.  The  moBt  recent  additbn  to 
flur  apparatus  criticus  is  fcmid  in  the  third  volume  of  "  Monumenta  Sacni  et 
ProfHDO,"  now  in  course  of  publi(;ation  at  Milan,  which  contains  a  rejaint  of  % 
portion  of  the  Ambrosian  MS.  (Hobiits  VII,).  JJut  these  lutter  publifMitiong 
are  si^  exlravagtintlj'  dear  as  to  1>6  quite  lieyipud  tlie  reach  of  moat  ntudentH, 
Mr.  Hoii il'ftttir  has  therefore  done  well  in  j)ropoBing  to  set  forth  tho  resulta 
of  a  tiollation  of  Mai'e  text  with  tlint  of  the  old  Vatican  udltion.  Hie  exe- 
cution of  the  work  ih  not,  however,  on  a  level  with  the  importancto  of  that 
which  he  has  tuidertnken.  We  need  not  stay  tti  characteriae  his  theory, 
aasuinetl,  bat  not  ojieidy  stated  (Correctiona,  &c.,  I-'reface,  p.  iv.),  that  where 
the  testa  of  Camfa  cuid  Mat  Ji^ree,  wo  have  tho  true  reiwlijig  of  the  Codex  ; 
but  hi«  iQietbod  of  teganling  Mai'jj  text  will  aurpriso  most  echolnrs  who  havo 
bod  to  deal  with  diplomatic  evidence.  Ho  eaya,  "  j\ll  that  he  atates  to  bo  ttio 
TGodii]]>  of  the  2  M.,  or  to  be  that  which  ie  added  to  tho  1  M.,  okthcr 
in  its  text  or  margin^  I  consider  to  be  the  true  representation  of  the  Vatican 
Codex ;  unleas,  in  relation  to  either  of  these  alterations^  Cardinal  Mai  states 
thiit  tbey  were  mude  >iy  a  more  recent  hand  than  the  original  writer  of  the 
Co-lex  :  all  altprations  maile  by  a  recent  Iiand  I  consider  to  he  of  no  value. 
Wlien  a  wifiding  stands  in  tho  marf^n,  aa  another  reading  of  that  wlucb  is  in 
the  test,  I  conaider  the  marginal  reading  to  be  the  correct  reading."  Surely 
what  we  want  is  an  exact  statement  of  the  phenomena  which  the  MS.  prO' 
aeiils^thfe  woFcla  wluch  were  written  by  the  original  scribej  whether  in  tho 
text  or  in  the  murgin,  no  lesa  than  the  alter&tieiJiSj  whether  by  omission, 
wldition,  or  otherwise,  made  by  the  corrector,  wbom  Mr.  Hetnfetter  must 
wipiHjee  to  have  been  a  contotnponiry  of  the  original  writer,  tiiough  the 
ditfereucB  in  age  between  tlie  two  is  ckarly  marked  by  the  different  appear- 
ttU'ie  of  the  ink  used  by  them  respectively.  This  falae  principle  of  Mr, 
Heinfetter's  has  caused  him  to  neglect  in  Gen.  xlvL  29,  for  the  more  uaual 
Tjofi,  the  readiny  jrXttori  (1  M.),  which  may  bo  illuatiated  by  siinilar 
vacations  in  Pso.  Ixxvii.  31  \  lea.  xvii.  4 ;  in  both  of  which  places  Cod.  B. 
inserts  the  A.  It  is  but  fair  to  state  that  bo  far  as  his  conception  of  it!) 
requirementa  pentiitted,  Mr.  Heitifetter's  task  liaa  been  perfomjcti  witli 
condideralile  iiccuracy.  In  the  four  chapters  and  six  verses  which  alone  are 
worthy  of  examLnation,  he  hna  indeed  omitted  one  curious  readings  iTKit^^uiatv 
aurobc  for  (ir\i}fi<iFffo»-  nt-rot)  (Geo.  L  3),  which  is  mentioned  in  Tischendorf  a 
Proltgotiiena,  p.  xciv.  ;  but  on  tbo  other  hand  ho  haa  noticed  two  rpadingB 
wiiicb  liiwl  eacajiod  the  oVjservation  of  tlint  experienced  coUatorj  aiyvttrmy  for 
ttiyoTWcic,  Gen.  xlvi.  34,  and  the  omiaeion  of  ^ip-ir  after  »-w(uiou  (xlvii.  18); 
and  hiia  Iweti  at  the  pains  to  note  what  is  a  very  obvioua  misprint  in  Carafa, 
f^c  for  roic  (1.  24). 

Unfortunately,  wo  cimnot  speak  moro  favourably  of  tho  acquaintanca 
which  Mr.  Heinfutter  exhibita  with  the  liternturo  of  the  subject  on  which  ho 
professes  to  inform  ua,  than  of  liis  critical  and  grammatical  prineipl&s.  We 
GUI  hAidly  suppose  that  any  one  who  took  even  the  slightest  interest  in  the 
criticism  of  the  Septuftgint  should  have  failed  to  make  himacilf  familiar  witli 
A  work  to  which  we  ftairc  already  referred,  the  edition  of  the  Greek  Scrip- 
toria of  the  Old  Tcatament  by  HolmoS  and  PaTsCna. 

rbo«e  volume  qontaiu  notea  of  a  collation*  of  tba  YatiCAIl  ManuecHpt  OS 
^  'ds.  tho  Book  of  Job  (including;,  according  to  the  osual  MS.  arrangement, 

'  Holmes'a  "ViuribUft  Ite&ding»'"  tXm  contain  QccaainonJ  nol»  nf  ctmeotioiu  nndQ  iy 
tlw  Vktit-an  oditoni  witli  pen  fmd  ink. 


356 


The  Contemporary  Review, 


w}iich  is  followed  in  the  original  Roman  edition,  the  npociyphal  Books  of 
KeJrtta  I.,  Tubit,  and  Judith).  This  colktiun  Joea  not  appear  k*  have  been 
ver>'  carefully  inaile,  but  it  givea  eome  rcadinga  whicli  are  not  noticed  bj 
Maij  B.  ff.,  (ii'n.  I.  16,  Xiyavrt^  for  ti:irai',  ■which  can  hardly  be  lookfd  iip«n 
as  erroneous  inacrtions  of  the  coUiilor,  And  at  all  events,  it  should  not 
have  been  neglected,  seeing  how  littlo  tnietwortby  information  we  have 
reEpectinfr  the  readings  of  this  venerable  manuscript.  Tliat  Mai  canimt 
be  dtjtended  on  ia  clear  from  the  many  ccrrectiona  of  his  statements 
resjiecting  readings  in  tho  New  Testament  which  have  been  made  in  the 
aecMid  Komun  edition  by  VtTcellone,  and  idso  after  special  exiiminfltion  of 
tht  Codex  by  the  Dean  of  Cantctbiiry,  Mr.  Cure,  and  othera.  And  this 
iinpressinn  is  ci^nfirtacd  by  a  coUatioti  of  the  Book  of  Daniel,  Kora  9rM'o- 
ri'uij'a,  given  in  the  edition  of  tbat  liook  according  to  the  Codex  Chigiainis, 
and  extracted  tliencc  by  Holmes,  who  thought  he  bad  reason  to  believo  that 
it  represents  tho  Tcatlings  of  Wie  Codes  Vaticanns /irtr  crce^/rffifc,  though  its 
original  f  ditor  dots  not  state  to  what  MS.  in  tlie  Vatican  Library  he  refers. 
The  belief  which  Holmes  expresses  is  eoufirraed  by  some  remarkable  in- 
stancea  of  aRteement  between  Mai's  readings  and  those  ftiniished  by  the 
editor  of  the  Cndex  ChiRianus  :  e.  p.,  tlfln.  ii.  12,  Mai'a  note  after  o/jyij  states. 
"  Buperjuoiiitur  ttoXX^,"  udiile  the  older  collator  says,  "  woXXij  suprasctipt,  post 
opyij."  TUit  ^nth  this  occnsic'tl.^l  and  tcraarknhle  agreement,  there  are  al^so 
maDy  readings  noticed  by  the  old  collator  which  find  no  record  wliatever  in 
Mai.  It  cannot  ba  too  much  regretted  that  tho  emieavoTirs  whicli  Lave 
from  lime  to  tiine  been  made  to  cbtuin  a  really  accuratt;  representation  gf 
this  tC^i't  niauusctipt  should  be  defeated  by  the  conduct  of  the  authorities  ftt 
the  Vntican,  But  ac  it  has  proved  more  than  once.  Dr.  Hplni^S  found  hlS 
collation  stopped  by  tbo  actTi.il  rentnval  of  the  Codex  from  its  place  in  the 
hbrary,  and  was  for  a  lon^  time  unable  to  Icam  anjtliin^^  respecting  it.  The 
puhltcation  of  the  editions  of  Mai  and  Vcrcollone  seemed  indeed  to  indicate 
a  revoraal  of  the  ancient  policy  ;  but  if  soj  it  was  only  for  a  time,  for  in  18C4 
Dean  Aiford  found  that  "difficulties"  were  "  ilu-owu  in  tlie  way  of "  his 
"  consulting  it  ;"•  and  Mr.  Hoinfettcr  tells  ma  (I^reface  to  "  Corrections,"  &c., 
p.  iv.)  that  his  "  soveml  endeavoura  to  obtain  a  collation,  or  a  thinl  printed 
copy,  of  the  Septuagint  portion  of  tho  Vatican  manuscript,  liavo  all  failed, 
althongh"  he  "undertook  to  provide  the  labour,  and  to  discharge  the  ex- 
penses attentiing  on  it."  Let  us  hope  that  wiser  and  more  lilieml  counsels 
will  before  long  jirevail,  and  tliat  we  may  be  able  to  ascertain  the  readings 
of  tliis  precious  document  without  having  rccouiao  to  the  conjectural  and 
utterly  musofe  method  which  Mr,  Hcinfetter  haa  adopted. 


RiiUgitm  in  Daihj  Life.     Hy  tin-  Rev.  Edward  Garbett,  W...^.,  Incnrabint 

ofClirist  L'liiirgh,  8iirbitL.n,  Siurey,     iSmall  6vo.,  pp,  2i2.     Loudoi 
Tlic  Keligious  Tract  .Society. 

Tuia  is  a  modest,  but  a  really  able  and  useful  book.     Its  object  is,  as  ex- 
plained in  the  preface,  to  apply  to  the  details  of  common  life  the  precepts 
examples  of  Holy  Scripture. 

"Tlie  seTcrnl  cHuye  have  been  rotnlci  na  »W{,  plnin,  nn4  prn*;ticiLl  ns  p(i&sil>Te,  They 
will  BufliL-e  to  prove  tbat,  directly  or  indinjctly.  Iii>ly  Siriptiire  Bapplies  i-rni-iinU  liMotu 
for  life  iind  i-onducl  of  a  minuie  paniciularicy  nrjci  detail  not  uaually  reciogniatil.  TtiL-ic 
in  no  ctiiiditiun  -jf  Hl"c  lo  wLiili,  in  oik-  wiiy  cr  anolhc-r,  lliey  are  nut  niijilualiltf.  .  .  . 
Tho  U'stoiiii  thus  gflthuTcd.  from  the  Word  will  he  foiiml  (o  be  in  neronliiiic«  wirli  thu 
bighm  buRtQC  pnidcace.    Muiy  minds  ninf  have  worked  llieir  wsy  iDdepeudtuiii;  to 


•  AdvertUement  to  the  Thinl  Editicin  of  toI.  Iv.,  part  i.,  of  Alforf's  '"  Grwlc  Tcst&menl.' 


ex- 

a^^ 


Notices  of  Books. 


357 


I 


I 


i«lii  vltbout  Iwiii^  coosciouB  tbat  an  ioapired  ligok  hid  pouited  out  the  raail.  The 
diAcorery  ttuit  God  has  taught,  dh  a  mutter  of  roli^oua  oliligiitioTi,  lesaona  nlrcodT  ni^cept^d 
U  a  nutter  of  enrlhly  pnnieu.ct',  will  oiily  icn'is  tu  show  how  l.argoly  tte  thought  of 
tnri»Vinil  bus  Ijec^nip  rM.vi.'in:J  by  lliit  iutluence  of  Scripture  teaclung-  For,  howerer 
e'lfliallj'  ihe  tlioiiuLt  of  uur  own  day  mi:)-  opprovy  of  thein.  tbcy  aro  ns  JHrL'rewt  ti>  {!')  tbe- 
nfvvaiUu^  tduc  of  b<  iit}ic:u  morality  oj  liiht  is  iLilTL-t'eut  la  (?)  darkneu.  If  wc  um  able  ti> 
runn  juiier  Tietrsof  lilJCj  it  U  t«  tleCimstimi  rovelaliciii  that  we  uc  mdeUiid  for  them." — 
JV»/W*,  p.  vi. 

In  this  spirit,  and  under  Uif>  guidance  for  the  mn>st  p^  of  a  chaatened 
Jadgment  and  tine  tact,  Mr.  tliirbutt  enters  un  the  various  dupntiumnts  of 
our  dftily  practice,  and  raugea  tli''iii  luidur  thii  iiiHuunru  of  Di'VTim  prucept  anil 
example.  It  may  surve  as  a  ii'eiHiimtndiition  of  liis  wnrl<,  if  wo  givu  tha 
heads  of  his  ehaptora,  and  thus  show  how  wide  is  ita  applicjition  to  Chmtiin 
life  : — "  ITie  Iiithicncf  of  Great  Trutlis  ou  Littlu  Thinys  —  Friejids ;  Whom 
to  Chorise  and  Whom  to  Avoid — Pure  Friendship— Conversation. :  How  to 
Tcdk,  When,  and  ou  Wliat — TuiniMmnce  :  Eating,  Driiikinf»,  iSleoping — 
Advice  :  How  to  G-i76  it,  and  How  to  Take  it — Miuinera — iJrL'aa— Home  ; 
its  l-'lcasuTia,  ]Jutio3,  and  Dangers — Buying  and  Kt-lling — SLdt-Control — 
Ridicule  and  the  Hidiculous — Our  Plana  for  Jjfc — Hastiness  of  Judgment — 
The  Memment  of  tho  Wise  and  of  tha  Fool — ^Trae  Beauty,  &q." 

1.  Catechiziwje  on  the  Fratjer  Book.     By  William  Lba,  M.A.,  Vicar  of 

Sti,  Peter'a,  DroitTCich,  and  lion.  Canon  of  Worcester. 

2.  The    Calecfiiat's   Manuai.      With    an    Ititraductlon  by   Samdel    Lord 

Eisnor  OP  Oxford. 

3.  An   Kasi}   Guide   io  Doctrine  dad  Praijer.     By  Hesrt  A,  Jeffrtes, 

M.A.,  luciunhent  of  Hawkchurch,  Kent,  and  Student  nf  Chiiat  CKurcli, 
Oifonl. 

The  litst  two  of  these  boolis,  intuiidcd  as  helps  in  the  work  of  catechetical 
inBtn]<^tinn,  havu  little  in  coiiimon  biisidB  tfidir  object,  and  tlie  evident  deairo 
iif  tliuir  aiithure  to  tarry  out  lliL'ir  purpose  in  faithful  a^lhcrencp  to  the  doc- 
trines of  the  Church  of  England.  The  firet  ia  a  very  small  book  on  a  aome- 
ffhat  widts  subject,  the  liifitoiy  and  stmcturo  of  the  Hook  of  Common  Prayer, 
W  it  contains  a  gooil  deal  which  it  would  bi!  well  for  our  people  genemlly 
lo  know.  Tlie  stylo  is  hardiy  either  sin])dii  enoii;^'h  or  lividy  enough  to  tako 
linld  of  the  niindfl  of  those  who  should  btsnofit  by  the  infonnation  coijveyei 
lliere  are  also  some  iiiaecnracies  of  Btatenitnt.  Thfi  l>(ixol(i^  ia  said  to  ho 
a  pataphraso  on  the  Bong  of  the  Keraphiin  (la.!,  vi.  3),  a  sentence  uvidently 
intcndod  to  refer  to  the  Ter-eanctus  in  the  Communion  Service,  whi^'h  by 
«ome  atrango  oversight  is  not  mentioned  at  alL  The  passage  relating  to  the 
xrorda  whieh  aecoinpany  the  distribution  of  the  Goosecrat^d  eleioonts  is 
loosely  worded,  and  l^ids  to  the  inference  that  they  date,  in  tlteir  present 
form,  from  Edward  VL's  "Second  Book,"  vrhich  aLinply  subatituted  the 
eecond  clause  for  the  first,  instead  of  from  that  of  Quecii  ElizaJwtb,  in  wliich 
t-h>?  two  clauses  Were  combined.  It  would  baVe  bfic-n  Well  too  if  Mr.  t^-a  liad 
not  9i;t  down  as  tnattcrs  undoubt'cd,  some  ou  which  there  has  been  great 
reucQ  of  opinion  in  ancient  as  wn'U  oa  mudcm  timea, — aa  when  he  aays 
it  Bishops  are  called  Angels  in  the  I'ook  of  li^velation. 
The  "  Catechiat's  Manual"  is  a  bouk  of  a  vary  dilTereut  ordisr.  It  deals 
with  a  snwUer  subjit'ct,  but  far  murni!  complotuly.  It  doos  Dot  Ctiusjst  of 
questions  and  answers  to  be  leunU,  but  is  in  fact  an  analysis  and  exposiUon 
ot  the  Cateulu8ro»  with  tunts  of  Holy  Scripture,  gtmit-rally  verj'  well  Bclected, 
for  nearly  eve^  torm  in  the  Auitlysi.s.     its  nuuu  is  well  ohoseu,  fur  itia  jost 


358 


The  ConUmpomry  Revkw, 


tho  book  to  be  in  tlie  bEmfis  of  the  cat^HihiBt,  from  which  be  may  take  the 
siibstan™,  and  ofli"ntini(.'H  tli«  form  iif  tlu'  bii^tnictiuu  wbicli  lie  ivoijd  iiDp!iTt.^H| 
The  younr;t!T  cliTgJ-,  ami  iiat  tht^y  nloiie,  will  liiiii  it  a.  viiluable  bi'lp  in  tb«i^| 
diachargc  nCaii  unpoi'tkmt  duly. 

Mr.  Jeffries'  littlo  book  f.wn\B  rather  adapted  for  the  private  ubc  of  thoae_ 
who  are,  ur  soou  nmy  bi-,  iindur  instruct  ion  preparatory  kn  ndidt  Imptiem 
to  iionlimiidion.  It  ia  widl  BiiibL-d,  as  it  appL'am  tn  bave  bismi  L*spc<:iaH3 
di«ignL-J,  for  "a  imrtmy  gift  to  chlJdivn  uii  tbeir  leaving  sohcul."  It  con- 
tains ((uestiona  and  anawepsoii  coiiJirmatiun  and  the  Catpdiifitn,  and  ftonrludM^ 
ivith  praycj'3  splccted  from  Biahop  Wilson,  BIsbop  Km,  «tr..,  find  the  last- 
riamod  atithor'a  thrte  ■well-knoTm  hymns.  The  Scri]Ttuje  Tvfcreiiwfl  iu^^h 
^ent^iiiUy  well  choaeu ,  and  do  not  exhibit  tlie  too  common  di^sirc  to  pKS^  Lut^^f 
the  aei-vice  posai^es  which,  thowgli  t.-c>utain«l  in  the  received  text,  have  no 
place  in  the  more  aiicieut  copies  tif  the  sacred  Wocd.  It  wouhl  hnvp  bfrn 
Well  if  Mr.  .leliVVfa  bsid  Ho  Wnrdfd  liia  tliiwl  iilid  fotirkb  answers  (p.  2)  as  to 
Inakc  it  clear  tlmt  tlu'  iiislmp  ia  simply  the  chaiiuel,  tLot  the  author  or  source 
of  grace  in  coulinoiitiuD. 


1 

>n-^H 


Tfie  Creed  and  the  Church  .-    a  Hmtdhaok  of  Tiieolugy,  ^c     By  tliB  R«T. 
Edgar  Sanderson,  H.A.,  latu  Soboliir  of  Clan:  Cfdlegc,  L'amhrifigc 

A  VERT  miracle  of  coudeuaation.     It  includes  within  tbc  limits  of  204 

pagCfi  of  Very  small  8vo.  nayuopatBof  "Petiraon  on  The  Creed,"  and  "Hooker's 
Kcdeaifistical  Polity,"  lloi>ks,  and  brief  pajiers  oh  Hsi-esiea  and  SchiiSTOS, 
"  The  Life  and  Kpistlc^  of  St.  Paul,"  "  Tlic  HisUiry  of  tlie  Book  of  Gonunon 
Prayer,  tlnj  Tliirty-uine  Atti^les,  and  the  brst  lour  Cjcnuriil  Councils,"  Yet 
tint!  type  is  not  so  small  as  to  vex.  the  eye,  wbiiti  tlin  ahridgrntnt  ie  ao  fairly 
ditn@,  especially  in  the  caau  of  Pearson,  aa  to  reti»in  a  well-proportioned 
n;senthlancc  to  tho  argument  tho-uyh  not  to  tbo  style  of  the  tiriginal.  The 
euinraary  of  tniths  coiifeeped  has  bweu  separately  isxtractwl,  auJ  forms  as  it^H 
were  an  epitome  of  tho  syiiopaia.  The  imthor  jtrobably  compiled,  liia  manu^^l 
ecript  as  a  prtrparation  for  a  theological  exainiiution,  and  It  ^nll  find  its  chief 
113(5  in  the  haiid^  of  those  who  wieh  la  liave  a  short  rhuinr,  of  the  Iai;goj 
Works  which  they  have  studied,  before  undergoing  a  similar  ordeal 


2V*e  Omelet  of  Ottd :  an  Aitnmpl  ai  n  Re-vUnrprelatUm.     Part  First.     The 
RcneiUcd  Comiuitt.     By  Henry  F.  A.  Pn.\TT,  M.ll. 

That  "language  was  given  to  man  to  lytncejil  his  thoughts"  iiiay  hi; 
maxim  suitt-d  to  the  r»ininf]n^nts  of  a  wily  clipkiumcy ;  but  that  t^ 
"  OracliS  of  'jod  "  were  given  in  aiwh  a  form  that  their  mejiiiing  ^liould 
utterly  hidden  from  tlie  world  and  from  th«  Cliurch  for  more  than  tw 
tliouMLiid  years,  mul  that  their  l>tviiie  author  condesaendwl  U)  '^arcept"  Uie 
erronMua  incruBtation  by  which  the  concealment  waa  bnmgljt  nbout,  ia  more 
than  wo  can  bring  ouraelves  to  believe.  Yet  thia  is  the  proposition  which  is 
maintained  by  ]3r.  Pmtt  in  thia  work,  and  ajiparently  in  one  which  he  gsivc. 
to  the  world  aonie  time  apo,  and  which  iw  here  again  inferred  to."  And  it  is 
maintained  and  aupportod  in  detiiil  wit!i  nn  amount  of  ability  and  ingenuity 
which,  appHed  to  some  mom  iiiasonahle  theeiB^  might  have  produced  valuabi 
results. 

'Ilie  object  nf  tlic  re-interpretation  here  attiimpteil  im  tbe  exhiVjition  of  a 
agreement  "hctwi^en  the  record  of  Creation  in  the  earliest  portion  of  (jencsis^ 
and  the  discoveries  of  modem  Bcience,     The  abject  is  one  which  many  abU 

*  "The  Gon^olg^  of  Creation,"     I/mdon;  Churchill,  1961. 


woj^ 


Notices  of  Books. 


359 


I 


I 


pioposml  to  themselTes,  and  the  attempt  should  always  be  rL'ceivud 
with  caniluuT  and  respect,  provided  thint  in  detiling-  with  lUu  two  things  to 
Iw  rvi'niicileii,  nu  riolcuue  ia  done  to  the  princiijk-s  of  lauguago  on  the  onq 
Bide,  ur  U>  asw^ertiiiued  tUcts  on  the  oilier. 

llie  tirat  atijp  in  Dr.  J'mtt's  Bj-ateni  \a  one  wliich  haa  Tiecn  taken  liy  niMiiy 
liefotv  liim,  ami  in  wliicli,  wiUi  ci'rtain  luoditii^itioiis,  ho  rany  Jiiul  mtitiy 
followeis,  the  denial  of  any  mithcuily  to  thi.-  Miisorctic  puncUmtiuii  of  the 
Hebrtw  tt'xt  lint  this  yiuictusition  is  after  all  only  itn  expreasion  more  or 
L^B  correct  of  a  tniditioa  iiir  moru  ancient.  "Whatever  liiHt-'rcuces  in  dpttiil 
tiiat  between  the  sense  of  the  Hebrew  as  fixed  by  tho  Maeoritos,  iinJ  that 
lepreaeiited  liy  ths  ejtrly  veraioue — and  theau  rlilTereucfa  are  worthy  of  turcful 
M.udy,^fftiil  tiiere  is  a  very  sulisUntiul  agreement  between  the  two,  so  that  it 
is  futile  to  mil  iit  the  modern  oi'ijiin  of  the  ]ioints,  unless  one  13  pTejmred  to 
Tejott  the  I'lir  older  ttaditiotL  which  they  represent.  This  a'lrnrdiiigly 
Hr.  I'mtt  docs,  flassiug  this  tnditrijin  with  tlioae  which  were  conilcmiied  by 
our  Lord,*  wliile  he  gets  rid  of  tlte  argument  which  might  bo  founded  on 
the  nuoULtions  from  "fXv  Old  TestiHient  in  the  New,  first  by  osswrtiiif;  that 
Christ  Jiiid  His  Apogtle*}  acci.;pti.>d  tlio  received  interpretation,  but  without 
vouching  for  ita  accunwy  (pp.  6,  7,241),  and  seenjiidiy  by  su^gestLiig  & 
Huliruw  original,  not  only  <ia  some  have  supposed  fot  the  Cnispel  of  St. 
Matth(?w,t  and  cveli,  m  the  face  of  ita  dinluctiti  peculiaritiiii,  the  EptstLo  to 
the  H«brew3,  but  for  the  entire  volume  of  tin?  New  Teatametit  (pp.  8,  noto  ; 
241).  The  effi^ts  of  this  rcjectiuu  of  traditionxd  int<'rpretation  ia  more 
I'xteiisive  than  might  lie  at  first  Biip]i08ed.  It  reiidtirs  poasibie  Ih*  i-ecou- 
BtnictioiL  pot  only  of  the  entire  jipTHiiiiialical  system,  winch  is  elosely  eon.- 
[jBcted  with  the  Masoretic  punctuation,  but  iiisu  of  the  division  into  words, 
the  only  ferUin  guide  to  tlmt  diviaion  being  found  iiccording  to  Dr.  Pratt  in 
the  occurrooce  of  the  liiial  letU-ii,  of  whioh  there  are  in  the  hrat  three  veraea 
ef  Genesis,  three,  live,  and  one  reepeeLively.  lint  even  lliia  is  not  aU. 
llr  I'ratt  luia  imbibed  to  the  very  fullest  e.\tent  tlie  notion  of  a  myatica!  or 
oniciitar  meaning  underlying  thii  hleral  eetise,  and  far  surpa-esiiig  it  in 
im.portanca  In  applying  thia  idea  lie  brioga  to  the  interjiretation  of  each 
word  every  root  from  which  it  could  possibly  1k^  derived,  aiii!  by  \\  combiJia- 
tion  of  the  meanings  thiia  obtained  arriveH  at  the  oracular  or  hidden  seiiae. 
Ind'Ccd,  he  is  not  satisfied  with  referring  11  word  to  the  possible  roots  in  ita 
(Twn  language,  for  he  givea  tive  sepanite  raejiniogs  to  the  wonl  ueoi^lt,  and 
Chico  each  t*i  Ppntateiicli  and  Apocaft/jisr,,  idl  derived  from  Hebreiv  roots. 
Snrelj  it  ia  in  this  way  of  all  othera  that,  to  U3C  hia  own  exjireasion,  "J^ibla 
becomefi  identified  ivith  Habel,"  and,  contrary  to  the  teaching  of  the  apostle, 
Sod  is  mail*  the  author  of  confusion. 

It  is  sad  to  he  obliged  to  write  thus  of  a  book  whieh  containa  abundant 
Evidence  of  a  devout  spirit,  a  aound  belief,  extensive  leiu-niiig,  and  patient 
industry.  There  is  much  to  interest,  mueh  to  inform  -  btit  we  cannot  avoid 
Beeijig  and  pointing  out  the  faulty  principle  which  jierVodea  the  wbohi. 

TfiG  Guardian  AwjeVa  Whispera ;  or.  Worth  of  Coimael  and  Wardi  nf 

Comfort,  taknn  from  Holy  Scripture. 
Wtitehwitrdi  for  the    Christian    Year:    dravm  from   lluly   Scripture. 

London  r  Frederick  Wame  &  Co. 

On  txirning  over  these  two  prettily  ornamented  volumes,  we  are  forcibly 
lemlnded  of  l!unyan'»  quaint  remark  about  ■'  lieiigien  walking  in  her  silver 

*  IL  ii  4ibBcfVAbl4i  th&t  Matt,  xziii.  1,  2.  13,  are  ^jaoted  on  the  title-page^    Thu  thud 
Trr*^,  n-hirh  doi-a  nol  quilv  uprco  irifh  the  view  mrutiflned  aliov*,  ie  nut  cilcd, 
i^  This  Pr.  l.'ratt  nuert*  ■■  known.     I'rrface,  p.  xzzi. 


360 


Tlie  Contetnporary  Revicia. 


elippere,"  and  in  conaequencn,  we  assign  to  tlie  books  l>efofe  us  a  plAte,  u. 
in.  our  cLoaet  of  lievqition,  but  on  our  drawinp-ruoiii  tabli?.  Tkty  contain 
ti'xta  for  every  itny  in  tho  year,  each  om^  Bet  in  a  paj-c  with  ckhoratelj 
derisud  hordtiis,  nnd  fiirnipSu'd  at  intervals  iiith  c-n(,rRiviiijr!i  of  snRfela  aiki 
apostt&g  Ijom  Overbeck,  TkonTaliisfn,  &c.  JWfore  epeakijij;  of  the  t« 
themselves,  we  would  qu<!BLiou  ivbetliLT  it  ia  rigkt  or  jiroHtablo  to 
SorijituTL'  in  this  wiiy  nt  tili  Beyond  doubt,  much  of  the  misapprvhenaion 
of  [lassiigea  in  tht:  l!ibl«  in  the  preaeut  duy  has  been  cau6«d  by  this  rery 
isoktitin  of  texts,  selitted  iitjcyriUiig  tu  the  fancy  of  the  conipiJiT,  ready  on 
thu  lips  of  the  readers  at  any  time,  and  tbiit  without  coiisidenition  whether, 
whi'n  tiiken  with  their  i;Mnt\.^xt,  thoy  will  Iwar  thi;  lueauing  too  often 
wreiiL-hed  from  thorn  in  aJvowicy  of  party  tenets,  or  one-sided  argumetit. 
Surely  thiit  chist-  exmuinatian  and  imwi?,-uiL'd  peanarch,  so  ofti:ii— and  &o  pro- 
perly— bostoivi-d  oci  works  of  luss  importiincis  t^bould  Iw  granted  iu  full  to 
the  "Watchwords'^  iiml  "Word.^  of  ConiiBul  tind  CoiufnH,"  taken  from 
Holy  Scripture,  Ww  wonld  Bay  to  the  yoiuif,',  and  to  alh  Kiiiul  yourUiblia, 
but  rt'jid  them  SL^naildy,  ami  do  not  let  the  thoiiglits  and  aims  of  your  tlay 
be  portiLined  imt  in  a  Vf^e  and  jjurpoaekari  wuyj  often  to  the  exGlnsion  of 
soberer  and  more  faithful  dealing  ^v■ilh  it. 

And  tliis  leads  us  ta  tbti  manner  in  wbiph  theao  testa:  Imre  been  por- 
tioned out.  In  n  IxKilr  wjiich  deals  witli  tinira  and  SL^aaons,  we  natur- 
ally look  for  some  reference  to  tho3^?  appointed  by  Him  who  "  has  set 
all  the  borilera  of  the  earth,  who  has  made  wintur  and  summer;"  Init 
of  the  iftuTning  life  in  tree  and  flowov  from  the  breath  of  spriiag — a 
twofold  type  of  th*  birth  of  man,  and  of  his  final  re3nnt'Ction^ — wo 
find  no  nicntiion  bi^re  iu  the  t<*xta,  nnr  emblem  in  the  illnstvations ; 
and  ihu  sjime  mtiy  be  aaid  of  summer  days,  and  hat  vest -time— so  fertile  in 
suggestion  both  of  words  and  of  oTjjucta  in  nature.  Even  ItSa  pardonable  is 
it,  in  the  selt;ction  of  Wiituhwords  for  every  day  in  the  Christian  Year,  to 
mnJie  no  allusion  to  those  wisely  nppointod  8enei.>n3  fur  joy  and  for  solemn 
thought,  in  which  we  CoUow  the  life  of  our  blessod  Loid,  and  the  miuist 
of  His  ajiostles.  Christmas  Hay  never  chnnj^fs ;  and  yot  we  do  not 
in  thtso  vtilnmpB  a  siuglv  hint  of  the  great  event  of  that  day.  "We  are  moi 
over  at  a  less  to  discover  any  imaginable  system  of  nmingftnient,  by  wbii 
tho  tista  ait)  chosen. 

Tlie  designs  of  the  bordere,  thirty-two  in  number,  and  recurring  in  bo' 
booksj  are  prettily  done,  and  mil  prove  valuabhi  tn  those  intei-eated  in' 
ilium inft ting,  illustrating,  A'c.  "We  think  that  in  these,  greater  variety  than 
ia  found  iu  the  niethcHiioal  rotation  of  patterns  would  have  been  acceptable. 
The  engravini^t?  from  celebrated  artists,  are  snnu'  of  them  deeen'ing  of  praise. ; 
but  m  others,  the  wooden  diameter  of  the  matfirial  haa  carried  itself  into 
the  work  :  witnesa  the  Magdalen  (nr  Madonna ;  it  is  certainly  not  the 
H]x-ranza)  of  tinido  Roni,  at  the  end  of  tht  latttT  volume. 

We  very  mneli  wish  that  thi,-!  kind  of  meretricious  religious  gift-lxw' 
might  go  out  Lif  favour.     It  is  really  httle  les*  tlian  taking  Scriptni-e  invi 
to  fritti'ir  it  out  thuA,  oiudesd  and  nicauijiyiess,  merely  as  thij  vehicle 
illuminated  bofdere. 


:4 


NOTE  TO  AnTicLE  "  Sundat,"  in  Xo.  I. 

TitE  n*nie  of  Mr.  Thomas  lluglics,  M.r,  for  Lumbelb,  Tas  inentiiafli-d,  in  [loge  lfi2,  u 
amaiiH  the  iiiiiporlrrs  nt'  tlio  DHivemeut  t'nr  rantniiK  Museuous  and  Oallf-ricB  un  btiiiduj 
afteniuona.  I  liiil  not  nt  tliu  time  knyir  ihnt  lie  liad  withdrawn  from  UmL  nmvemrjit,  on 
the  in'iimd  'if  iu  buing  iiptiitist  liotli  tlii'  intcri'Sls  and  the  wiahcs  t^f  tbv  iiiBkrity 
wcjikin^  Hits,  aui\  nni  glftd  tu  ]ilikce  ihal  fact  *m  rccm  J.  £■  II.  !'• 


^=5^ 


KATIONALISM. 


JtUtnrff  of  tht  Riif  aiul  Infamn  of  tht  Spirit  nf  Rattonalitiu  iu  Europe. 
By  \Y.  E.  H.  Lecky.  MA.  Twu  Volonie*.  Second  Kdition. 
London  :  Longmiuii.    186^. 

MR.  LECKY'S  volumes  have  already  attracted  much  of  the  atten- 
tion they  so  well  deserve.  They  are  the  work  of  an  able  and 
comprehensive  intellect,  gifted  with  a  large  and  perhaps  over  fertile 
faculty  of  generalization,  and  a  very  clear,  facile,  copious,  and  eloquent 
power  of  expression.  In  reading  them  in  part  a  second  time,  we 
confess  that  we  are  struck  hy  a  certain  slackness  both  of  thought 
and  style ;  a  want  of  compactness,  and  tendency  to  diffusion :  but 
tlie  liberal  and  luminous  comprehension  remains  everywhere  con- 
spicuous ;  and  the  reader  is  carried  along  a  very  diversified  yet 
connected  field  of  inquiry  with  unfailing  interest  at  every  step,  and 
with  a  singularly  \'ivid  buoyancy  and  freshness  of  movement. 

The  aim  of  the  volumes  is  to  trace  the  "  History  of  the  Kise  and 
Jnfliience  of  the  Spirit  of  Rationalism  in  ]'2iirope," — something  very 
different,  as  the  reader  will  at  once  see,  on  opening  Mr.  Lecky's  volumes, 
/tom  the   History  of  Rationalism,  in  its  ordinary  acceptation,  as  a 
peculiar  mode  of  thinking  in  theology.     It  is  one  of  the  defects  of 
Mr.   Lecky's  book,  that   lie  has   not  sufliciently   discriminated   and 
tlefined  its  object.     By  the  spirit  of  liationalism,  he  says,  he  under- 
stands "  not  any  class  of  definite  doctrines  and  criticisms,  but  rather  a 
Certain  cast  of  thought  or  bias  of  reasoning,  which  has,  during  the  last 
tliree  centuries,  gained  a  marked  ascendancy  in  Europe."     The  nature 
of  this  bias  is  "  that  it  leads  men,  on  all  occasions,  to  subordinate 

VOL.  I.  2  B 


362 


The  Contemporary  Revicio. 


dugmatic  theology  to  tbe  dictates  of  reason  and  of  conscienoe  ;  and,ia 
a  necessary  eonsefjueuce,  greatly  to  restrict  its  intluence  upoti  life.  It 
prei.lisposes  meu  in  history  to  attribute  all  kinds,  of  pheiiotueua  to 
natimil  rather  than  uiiniciOoua  causes;  in  theology,  to  est«em 
succeeding  systems  the  expre^sioits  of  the  wants  and  aspirations  of 
thitt  R'li;.T^ou3  sentiment  -which  js  planted  iu  all  men ;  and  in  ethics, 
tu  reyn-rd  as  diities  only  those  whirh  eouscicnce  reveals  to  be  such." 
This  description  indicates  an  indefinite  movement  of  thcngbt  am! 
feeling'  in  the  modern  Enrojieau  mind,  rather  than  any  clear  aim  or 
proyriiss  of  reason.  And  this  inde finite ness  hanfzs  around  Mr.  Leoky's 
Tivhole  conception  of  the  snhject,  and  Ins  nitthod  of  Imndling  it. 
He  repudiates  in  his  rrefrtcc  the  iniluence  of  definite  arguments  and 
processes  of  rensoninjf  in  can-ying  on  tlie  movement  of  the  mtional- 
izing  spirit.  This  movement  iacaiTieil  onhythegeneml  hahita  of  mind 
W'hidi  ct)me  to  pass  in  successive  nges  from  the  apitarently  accidental 
grciwth  of  knowledge  ratiier  than  hy  any  clear  imd  iutulli<;rilde  impulse 
of  rational  thought.  This  view  is  constantly  rejjcated  in  liis  pages. 
According  to  liim, — 

"  Tlie  prpssure  of  the  ^neral  uitellectaal  influences  of  the  tiniLi  dctcrmint'e 
tilt'.  ]iri?dw|ioaitionB  which  ultiitmti^ly  regiiliiLo  tht*  clii'ttdLs  of  behef :  and 
thoiif.;li  all  men  do  not  yield  to  thsit  pressure-  with  the  saiiu-  fa<.'ilitj\  all  lurpe 
boiiiL'B  iiT:^  fit  laat  controlled.  A  chiiuge  of  spcculntive  opiitinits  doea  not  imjJy 
an  increiiSL'  of  the  datn  njuiu  ivhii^h  Ibose  opinions  rest,  but  a  chnngc  of  the 
Imhita  of  thought  and  niiud  which  they  n-tlbct,  I'efiiiitfe  ar^imciits  are  the 
»3'nij)t<Jiii8  and  prutoxt*,  hut  sfhkim  the  (^unsea  of  thp  change,  Tbeir  chief 
iiiL'rit  18  tu  accolt-r.vtt^  Iht'  inevitflblu  crisis.  Tlin-'V  di-rive  their  force  and 
plhcary  frnjn  thfir  wonforniity  vni\i  thfl  mental  habits  cf  those  t'>  whom  they 
ani  siidresecd.  reitsoning  which  in  niio  n^'c  would  luiikw  no  jiuprpssion 
wliatL'VtT,  in  tin.'  next  nye  ie  romyed  iiith  entliusiaetie  apphntse.  And 
tins  atanthuil  of  Ijclief,  tliis  toiK"  nricl  Imhit  of  thought,  wliich  is  the  supreme 
urhitet  of  the  opinions  of  suuceseive  j^eriudu,  is  created  not  by  the  iniluence^ 
iirieing;  tmt  of  luiy  one  depiirlnieut  "f  mteUt'et,  hi]t  hy  the  conihlnatitin  of 
all  thu  iiitcllectuid  and  evtu  social  tendi-nciea  of  the  Hge.  Those  who  con- 
trihuto  most  largely  to  its  funimtjou  are,  I  ht-lieTC,  tlii-  phUnso]! litre.  Jlim 
like  Bot^on,  l.>f'™.iirtfs,  iiud  Lnt.ike,  havo  prohahly  doufl  more  than  any 
others  to  But  the  current  of  their  iigG.  Tliey  have  furraed  a  eertain  CRst  and 
tiaio  of  mind.  They  liavti  introduced  peculiar  liidiit-s  of  thtaijjht,  now 
iiKxh'})  of  rc'ELPonirjf;,  new  tfudencicB  of  ennuJrj'.  Thy  inipulst"  tht-y  havo 
^ven  to  the  hifihiT  litcnttiiru  lias  Itw?n  hy  that  litL-ratint!  conituimiwited 
to  thp  more  popidiLT  iratera  ;  and  the  impretfs  of  thrao  masti'^r  minja  is 
tlrariy  vifiiblo  in  thu  iiTitinjiE  of  uuittitiidra  who  nrc  totally  uiiiuiijiiaintwl 
with  their  works.  Hut  ]ihiiowvphip4d  nicthoils,  great  and  uiuiucitionable  na 
19  their  power,  fnnn  hut  one  of  thw  niiny  iiijiufuces  that,  eoutrihote  to  thu 
nicutal  hidiits  of  society.  TInjs  the  dLscovmca  of  phyeic-Hl  science,  eutrencli- 
ui;;  upon  the  deni-iin  of  the  aiiouiidoua  and  the  incntnpivhe risible,  enlnr^g 
our  conceptions  cf  the  nnipei  of  l,iw,  and  revealing  tlip  connection  of 
plitnomenn  that  had  t'orincrly  np]irarid  altogether  isolated,  form  ft  habit  of 
muid  which  is  carrLijd  far  beyond  tlie  limits  of  physics." 

EveryTrhere  the  same  strain  occnrg.     And  Mr,   Lecky  dwells  at 


Rationalism,  363 

length  upon  a  particular  illustration  of  his  view — the  decay  of  the 
helief  in  witchcraft  at  the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century,  not- 
withstanding the  advocacy  of  some  of  the  most  distinguished  and 
even  liberal  minds  of  which  the  latter  part  of  that  century  boasts. 
So  kte  as  1664,  two  women  were  condemned  in  Suffolk,  by  Sir 
Matthew  Hale,  for  witchcraft,  on  the  ground — first,  that  Scripture  had 
affirmed  the  reality  of  witchcraft ;  and  secondly,  that  the  wisdom  of 
all  nations  had  provided  laws  against  persons  accused  of  the  crime. 
Sir  Thomas  Browne,  the  well-known  author  of  the  "  KeUgio  !Medici," 
was  called  as  a  witness  at  the  trial,  and  swore  "  that  he  was  clearly  of 
opinion  that  the  persons  were  bewitched."  Not  only  so,  but  Henry 
More  and  Cudworth,  both  of  tliem  belonging  to  the  enlightened  band 
of  Cambridge  Platonists,  strongly  expressed  their  belief  in  the  reality 
of  witchcraft ;  and  more  than  all,  Joseph  Glan\'il,  the  author  of  the 
"Scepsis  Scientifica,"  and  the  most  daring  theological  thinker  per- 
haps of  his  time,  wrote  a  special  defence  of  the  decaying  superstition, 
under  the  name  of  "  Sadducismus  Triumphatus,"  probably  the  ablest 
book  ever  published  in  its  defence.  So  far  as  mere  arguments  were 
concerned,  the  divines  seemed  to  have  it  all  their  own  way.  "  The 
books  in  defence  of  the  belief  were  not  only  far  more  nunierous  than 
the  later  works  against  it,  but  they  also  represented  far  more  learning, 
dialectic  skill,  and  even  general  ability."  The  mass  of  evidence 
seemed  in  favour  of  it.  "  Those  who  lived  when  the  evidences  of  witch- 
craft existed  in  profusion,  and  -attracted  the  attention  of  all  classes 
and  of  all  grades  of  intellect,  must  surely  have  been  as  competent 
judges  as  ourselves  of  the  question,  were  it  merely  a  question  of 
evidence.  ".  .  .  It  is,  I  think,  difficult  to  examine  the  subject 
with  impartiality  without  coming  to  the  conclusion,  that  the  his- 
torical evidence  establishing  the  existence  of  witchcraft  is  so  vast 
and  varied  that  it  is  impossible  to  disbelieve  it  without  what,  on 
other  subjects,  we  should  deem  the  most  extraordinary  rashness." 
Tet  the  belief  of  it  sunk  towards  the  end  of  the  seventeenth 
and  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  centuiy,  rapidly,  irretrievably. 
Ko  accumulation  of  evidence,  no  cleverness  or  strength  of  argu- 
ment, were  of  any  avail.  At  this  particular  period  of  English 
history  there  was  manifested  an  irresistible  disposition  to  regard 
iritch  stories  as  absurd.  With  the  foundation  of  the  lloyal  Society 
in  1660  a  passion  for  natural  philosophy,  very  similar  to  that 
which  preceded  the  French  Eevolution,  became  general ;  and  the 
whole  force  of  the  English  intellect  was  directed  to  the  discovery  of 
natural  laws.  In  this  manner  there  was  generated  a  prevailing  dis- 
inclination to  accept  supernatural  stories  in  explanation  of  events 
however  extraordinary.  "  The  disbelief  'in  witchcraft  is  to  he  attri- 
buted to  what  is  called  the  spirit  of  the  age.     ...     It  is  the  residt. 


364 


The  Contemporary  Revictu. 


iwt  of  any  smt>s  of  definite  arguments,  or  of  new  discoveries,  but  ofu 
jjradual,  insensible,  yet  profoimd  modificatioit  of  the  habits  of  thought 
] prevailing  iu  Eitrnpe." 

This  instance  mow  clearly  thmi  any  other  hiinya  out  the  charac- 
teristics of  Mr.  Lecky'a  thought  and  manner  of  tneatment,  iu  behalf  nf 
which  much  may  he  saiil ;  hut  his  langnaye,  at  the  same  time,  evi- 
dently covers  some  confusion  uf  ideag,  Kt»  doubt  chtuigea  of  belief 
are  wrought  largely  according  to  the  way  described.  The  changes, 
thnt  is  to  sny^  are  the  issue  a])pareutly  not  of  s^iecial  processes  of 
^e.^$oniug,  Imt  of  some  conipTelienaive  alteration  in  the  intellectual 
point  of  viow  of  one  age  in  eompariaon  with  ft  precerling  age.  A 
moile  of  thought  3o  prevailing  as  scai-cely  to  admit  of  question 
disappears,  and  a  new  mode  of  thou^^ht  takes  its  jilace,  wliile  the 
mere  logical  defences  of  the  former  may  remain  uuassailed,  or, 
if  assailed,  unsubdued.  The  tide  of  advancing  thought  can  he 
seen  nio\ing  onwards  till  it  covers  tiie  loftiest  eminencea  of  the 
old  opinion,  which  yet  refuaes  to  surrender  in  its  argumentative 
strongholds.  But  nevertheless,  tlie  movement  is  in  no  sense  acci- 
dental or  luiac countable.  It  is  in  no  sense  the  mere  upapringing 
-of  new  ideas  as  spontaneous  or  unreaaoned  growtlis,  a  conclusion  to 
which  Mr.  T^cky's  language  might  point,  and  wliich  a  careless  reader 
wonlil  certainly  draw  from  it.  The  old  and  vanishing  lieliefs,  however 
valiantly  they  may  fight  to  the  la.gt,  and  in  .weming  logic  have  the 
best  of  it,  are  yet  really  weakened 'and  beaten  in  the  field  of  fair 
reason  Inilbre  they  retire.  The  ralirtnalistic  movement,  idtbongh  it 
gatliers  its  final  strength  from  many  impnlsta  which  may  have  little 
to  do  vAi\\  the  immediate  object  of  faitli — mtchcraft,  or  any  other — 
which  it  is  sweeping  away,  is  yet  truly  a  movenient  of  reason,  ajid 
not  a  blind  issue  of  sentiment  or  feeling.  The  "spirit  of  the  age"  is 
a  mere  expiession,  and  has  no  powttr,  save  in  so  far  as  it  represents 
some  rciil  growth  of  enlightenment,  some  expitnsion  of  man's  ]KiwerH 
of  comprehension  of  the  world  around  him,  or  of  the  world  of 
thought  witliin  him. 

In  the  case  of  witchcraft,  for  eiflinple,  men  ceased  to  l;elieve  in  it 
pot  merely  because  they  cnrae  t.o  lauyh  at  it  "  as  palpably  absunl,  as 
involving  the  most  grotesque  and  hidicrou-s  conception.'^."  as  in  its«!f 
es-sentially  incredible.-'-not  merely  because  of  "  a  gradual  and  insen- 
sible modification  of  the  habits  of  thought  prevailing  in  EuDipe,"  hut 
mainly  because  their  reason,  quickened,  disciplined,  and  enlan>ed  bv 
diverse  sources  of  new  information  and  culture,  attained  to  clearer 
perceptions  of  the  nature  of  evidenct^,  and  of  the  relation  of  evidence  to 
the  alleged  fact  to  he  proved.  The  general  disbelief  of  witchcraft  was 
no  doubt  greatly  accelerated  by  the  ludicrous  associations  which  came 
to  be  attached  to  it,  and  by  a  general  change  in  the  habits  of  thought  i 


Rationalism.  365 

but  these  causes  of  disbelief  were  themselves  the  effect  of  a  deeper 
cause.  Men  only  began  to  laugli  at  witchcraft  whea  they  had 
already  perceived  its  unreasonableness — the  many  presumptions  of 
eWdence  against  it.  Their  changed  habits  of  thouj^ht  were  the  result 
of  increased  knowledge, — ^of  increased  width  of  comprehension.  The 
primary  source,  therefore,  of  the  decay  of  this  and  of  all  superstition 
and  error,  is  not  any  mere  fluctuating  power  called  "  the  spirit  of  the 
f^e,"  not  any  indefinite  movement  of  public  opinion,  but  a  clear  and 
steady  advance  of  reason — an  advance  effected  by  innumerable 
influences,  and,  it  may  be,  at  times  ,  losing  itself  in  sceptical  or 
native  extravagances,  but  which  is  not  to  be  confounded  with  any 
of  these  mere  accessories  of  its  development.  In  the  present  case  the 
advance  of  reason — or  of  knowledge,  its  complement — was  of  a  two- 
fold kind.  Men  came  to  understand  nature  better,  and  what  was 
possible  or  impossible  within  the  order  of  its  operations.  Men  further 
learned  to  have  higher  and  wiser  notions  of  the  agencies  of  good  and 
evil  in  the  world.  To  make  use  of  the  illustration  employed  by 
Mr.  Lecky, — the  allegation  of  an  old  woman  riding  through  the  air 
on  a  broomstick  became  utterly  incredible,  because,  first  of  all,  tlie 
alleged  fact,  when  examined,  was  found  to  rest  on  no  evidence  which 
could  for  a  moment  be  put  in  comparison  with  the  evidence  of  the 
stability  of  nature's  operations  ;  and  secondly,  because  the  idea  of  the 
supernatural,  out  of  which  the  witch-imagination  had  grown,  had 
b^un  to  disappear.  Supposing  that  there  were  a  devil  witli  power 
to  transport  old  women  in  such  a  manner,  tlie  doing  so  scarcely 
seemed  a  worthy  or  adequate  employment  even  for  the  devil.  As  the 
horizon  of  human  reason  became  expanded  and  illuminated,  the 
clouds  of  superstition  dispersed,  and  men  learned  to  look  with 
incredulous  wonder  and  ama2ement  at  the  vanisliing  shapes  of  horror 
■which  had  fascinated  them. 

The  same  confusion  ur  want  of  discrimination  leads  Mr.  Lecky 
constantly  to  contrast  theology  and  rationalism,  as  if  they  were  forces 
working  in  opposite  directions  ;    he  does  not,  indeed,   eiT   in  this 
respect  as  Mr.  Buckle  did,  whose  hartl  po3iti\'ist  turn  of  mind  pre- 
vented him  from  rising  to  any  intelligent  conception  of  theology  at 
all    Mr.  Lecky's  mind  is  of  a  far  more  sympathetic  and  spiritual 
order.     Still,  he  by  no  means  sufliciently  apprehends  the  great  part 
■which  theology  itself  has  had  in  the  formation  of  the  rationalistic 
movement.     The  highest  impidses  of  the  movement  ha^■e,  in  fact, 
come  fitjm  witliin  the  theological  sphere,  and  can  be  plainly  traced  in 
a  succession  of  great  writers,  beginning  with   Hooker,   Hales,   and 
ChilUngworth  in  England,  down  to  the  present  time.     Tliese  writers 
Were  no  doubt  influenced  by  the  general  spirit  of  their  age,  in  so  far 
as  it  was,  in  science  or  philosophy,  an  age  of  awakeniug  enlightenment ; 


366  The  Contemporary  Review. 

but  thc-y  were  also  themselves  in  ait  eniineut  degree  the  oiilii^btenera 
i>t'  tlieii-  time,  aatl  of  all  succtseding  time.  They  gave  far  more  than  thi^y 
received.  In  the  exercise;  of  their  own  liigh  reason  011  Divine  tbinj^s, 
thuy  rase  far  ahove  theU-  age,  and  uominunicated  to  the  stream  uf 
religious  thought  a  direct  iinpidse  of  a  more  truly  ratioual  cbaxiicter 
tliaii  some  uf  tho  vaguer  inHuentcs  of  which  Sir.  Lecky  makee  m 
mnuh.  Tliis  is  particularly  true  of  Hooker,  who  stands  singularly 
alon^  in  his  lofty  rflticnality. 

A  history  of  rationalism,  properly  so  called^  would  concern  itself 
mainly  witli  the  labours  of  the  succession  of  theological  thinkers  who 
have  recogniaed  the  rights  of  reason,  and  sought  to  bring  these  rights 
into  linrinuny  ^vith  the  revelations  of  spu-itu[il  tnitii  in  Scripture  and 
in  conscience.  The  wurk  of  these  men  witliin  the  donuiiu  of  then- 
lo^y  ^vould  at  any  rate  share  the  attention  of  the  historian  M-ith  the 
mixed  intellectual  and  scientific  influeneea  bearing  upnn  tliifi  doinrdn 
from  without,  and  indirectly  niodifyin;^'  it.  Theuliigy  would  not  be 
supposed  to  constitute  a  chLU-med  circle,  lying  outside  uf  the  ratioual- 
istic  movement  while  continiral5y  yielding  to  it  It  woidd  not,  in 
shorty  he  cunf'oimded  with  the  mere  diigijiatic  teaching  of  the  Church 
in  any  age,  nor  woidd  its  true  range  and  power  Ihj  supposed  to  Ix) 
narrowed  because  vai-ious  items  uf  this  teaching  have  uli-eaJy  vanished 
before  the  modern  spirit  of  inquiiy,  luul  otiiera  are  obviously  destined 
to  do  ao.  Theology  aa  a  science  is  quito  indepenrleut  of  s«eh  sui>- 
pofied  encroaclnnenta  upon  its  territorj',  and  is  so  far  from  hjsing  it3 
genuine  iiitei-est  and  importance  with  t!ie  advance  uf  the  mtionalijstlc 
spirit,  that  it  may  be  said  to  possess  in  our  own  day  a  gtowiui; 
attraction  for  all  liighcr  intelligences,  who  have  not  di%"oi"ced  them- 
aelve.'j  from  spiritiial  ciilture. 

la  trutli,  the  term  rationalism  is  in  itself  so  entirely  vague  and 
indeterminate,  that  previous  to  dehnition  it  is  impossible  to  say 
what  it  ileuotts  relative  to  theology.  It  is  one  of  tiie  gi'eatest  mis- 
fortune* both  of  theological  and  philosophical  discussion,  that  wurtls 
fi'iL'tpiyiitly  come  to  be  used  witii  such  complex  and  evtfU  contradict «.iiy 
mennuigs,  as  to  obscure  altogether  the  J-eal  points  at  issue,  aad  to 
keep  cftntroversiidisU  Jighling  for  yeai-a  in  thgi  dark.  Many  instances 
mig!it  be  given  of  this  a).>u^ive  emphijTuent  of  'n'(.')rils,  but  there  v^ 
none  more  noted,  or  more  intluential  iu  the  confusion  which  it  is  con- 
stantly brceiling,  than  the  word  rationalism.  It  is  used  at  least  iu 
two  distinct  suid  nearly  ojjposite  senses.  In  its  current  iiae,  with  a 
large  chias  of  theologians  it  ilcnotes  a  certain  exercise  of  the  naiund 
intcUuct,  always  opposed  to  Chjistiamty.  It  menus  the  deliberate 
rejection  uf  Uivine  revelation  as  inconsistent  witii,  the  ilictates  of  tho 
natural  reason.  It  is  the  same,  in  short,  as  irreligion.  It  is  the 
spirit  of  the  world,  the  spirit  of  undevout  science,  of  undavQut  philo- 


Rationalism.  367 

sophy,  as  opposed  to  Christ  and  the  spirit  of  tlie  Divine  wliich  in  Him 
is  seeking  to  bless  the  world.  In  this  sense  rationalism  is  aggress- 
ively hostile,  not  merely  to  certain  truths  of  religion,  but  to  the 
very  foundation  of  religion  in  human  uature, — the  spiritual  instincts 
and  principles  which  separate  man  from  other  creatures,  and  make 
him,  in  contradistinction  to  them,  a  religious  being. 

Perhaps  it  may  be  questioned  whether  there  is  any  form  of  thought 
thus  deliberately  opposed  to  religion  in  our  day,  as  there  is  certaiidy 
no  special  philosophy  which  makes  it  its  business  to  proclaim  such 
an  opposition.  But  no  one  who  knows  anything  of  the  subject  can 
doubt  that  there  are  forms  of  thought,  and  even  a  prevailing  school  of 
thought,  wliich,  according  to  its  fundamental  principles,  leaves  no 
room  for  religion  as  a  valid  element  of  human  existence.  It  may 
not  directly  oppose  it,  but  it  leaves  it  out  of  sight ;  nay,  it  asserts 
as  its  basis,  principles  inconsistent  with  any  idea  of  special  Divine 
revelation.  The  great  school  of  thought  known  as  Positivism  restricts 
the  sources  of  our  knowledge  to  the  senses,  and  if  not  explicitly,  yet 
implicitly,  denies  the  reality  of  a  Divine  constitution  in  man  separat- 
ing him  from  other  animals,  and  making  him,  in  a  true  and  not 
merely  an  accidental  or  superstitious  sense,  a  subject  of  religion.  It 
is  not  necessary  for  us  to  say  whetlier  tlie  name  of  Rationalism  is  or 
is  not  rightly  applied  to  such  a  school  of  thought  as  this.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  it  is  largely  appUed  by  theologians  in  a  sense  in  which  it 
is  applicable  to  no  other  system, — in  which,  in  short,  it  is  identical 
with  anti-Christian  philosophy. 

But  the  expression  is  also  applied  often,  by  the  same  theologians,  to 
describe  a  mode  of  thought  which  has  no  connection  with  the  preced- 
ing, but  which,  on  the  contrary,  is  its  most  active  and  enlightened 
opponent.  It  is  applied  to  the  exercise  of  reason  within  the  sphere  of 
religion,  with  a  view  to  the  enlargement  and  purification  of  reUgious 
ideas  in  consisteuey  Avith  the  necessities  of  an  advancing  spiritual 
culture.  In  the  former  case,  thought  takes  its  stand  outside  the  circle 
of  spiritual  truth  altogether,  and  it  never  comes  within  the  circle. 
It  lays  the  foundations  and  tries  to  bmld  the  structure  of  Truth 
outside  of  the  Church,  and  the  special  principles  wliich  lie  at  the  I'oot 
of  the  Church.  In  the  present  case,  thought  is  born  within  the 
Church  :  it  starts  from  spiritual  principles :  it  is  essentially  Christian 
in  its  fundamental  ideas ;  but  it  does  not  hold  to  these  ideas  merely 
as  they  have  been  elaborated  and  dogmatically  expressed  by  the 
Christian  intelligence  of  fonner  ages.  On  the  contrary,  it  recognises 
a  living  movement  in  Christian  knowledge,  no  less  than  in  every 
other  department  of  knowledge.  There  is,  "  tlirough  the  ages,"  a  growth 
of  religious  intelligence  and  compi-ehension,  just  as  there  is  a  growth 
of  philosophical  intelligence  and   comprehension-   and   the  labours 


36S 


Tk€  Contemporary  Review, 


«f  past  generations  of  Cliristian  t3iin]ters,  while  claiming  all  Iionnur 
and  respect,  are  no  mure  infallible  thiin  the  labours  of  past  geao- 
raliiins  nf  jilinoaiipliei-s.  According  to  this  view,  tlit;  increase  nf 
general  IvfKnvkdge,  ami  of  huinajie  and  enlighteiieil  ]iriur.i]ilf3  iti 
society,  iuevitaltly  carries  with  it  an  iacrease  of  spintual  illumination. 
llijiher,  juster  a[ipreht'ns.ions  are  developed,  not  only  of  the  i-clatioiis 
I 'f  mail  to  roan — &  fact  admitt^id  ou  all  haads^ — hut  moreover  of  tlie 
relrttious  of  man  to  God,  and  of  the  Divine  intentions  for  man's  good. 
If  uiau,  ill  the  course  of  tlie  Christian  centuries,  has  come  to  iuuIlt- 
stand  hotter  his  own  position  and  ri|^hts  in  relatlun  to  the  position 
aud  rights  of  others,  and  to  iind  in  the  Christian  revelation  the  war- 
riiQt  of  this  higher  knowledge,  which  ff^r  louy;  he  failed  to  see,  or 
at  least  to  realise,  there  seems  every  ^Tound  for  concluding  that  he 
will  also  come  to  understjind  hetter  frmu  the  same  soiure  his  rela- 
tions to  God,  and  Giid'$  thoui-hts  towards  him.  ^"Vliy  should  not 
the  Christian  reason  j^ow  and  become  inore  full  of  liyhl,  tis  well  as 
the  scientific  intellect  ?  It  is  no  satisfactor}"  answer  to  say,  as 
has  been  so  often  said,  that  the  sum  of  Christinn  knowledj^  ia  con- 
tained once  for  all  vrithiu  the  hooks  of  thu  New  Tijstanient,  from 
which  uiithinj!;  is  to  lie  taken,  and  uotliing  added.  The  question  is 
not  one  as  to  the  original  completeness  of  the  Christiau  i-evelation, 
hut  one  solely  as  to  the  interpretation  nf  this  revelation.  Allowim^ 
all  that  can  lie  said  as  U)  the  perfection  of  Holy  Scrijiture,  even  on  the 
untenable  supposition  of  verbal  inspiratiou,  this  settles  nothing  aa  to 
the  validity  of  jiast  interpretAlions  uf  Wcriptnra  Least  of  all  tloes  il 
settle  anything,'  as  tu  the  validity  nf  tlio  dnj^Tiiatic  opinious  wliirli 
have  i^'owu  up  within  the  Church  at  successive  periods,  and  which 
have  frequently  owed  their  rise  far  more  to  the  changing  ciurenls  of 
human  feeling  and  tlunking  than  to  any  direct  residt  nf  flcriptural 
stndy.  ThestJ  opiniinis  must  stand  or  fall  ou  their  own  meiils.  Tliey 
('(irinot,  on  any  gi'oimd  of  reason,  he  considered  beyond  re-examina- 
tion, and  hence  of  possible  expansion  or  correction.  The  mere 
fact  that  tJiey  are  stamped  with  the  authority  of  the  CUurt-h,  or 
in  other  words  of  the  hi;^diest  Christian  iutelliyence  of  the  past,  is 
enough  to  secure  for  them  i-espect,  but  by  no  means  euouyh  t4i  place 
tliem  beyond  criticisui.  Tlie  Cluistian  intelligence  of  to-day  im&sesses 
every  right  that  the  Christian  intelligence  of  the  fourth  centnxy.  or 
the  twelftSi  century,  or  the  sixteenth  century,  ])ossessed.  Aud  not 
only  has  it  the  same  rights,  but  there  eau  be  no  iloubt  that,  ui>on 
the  whole,  it  possesses  a  higher  capacity  of  exercising  these  rights.  In 
many  respects  it  has  both  mure  insiglit  into  siiiritunl  tnith,  and  muru 
freedom  from  spiritiu\I  prejudice.  And  it  claiuis,  therefore,  not  only 
in  one  church,  but  in  all  living  cliurtUes,  to  realaorb,  aa  it  were,  the 
great  spiritual  ideas  of  the  past,  and  review  ihem  in  the  light  of 


Ratiofialism.  3  69 

Scripture ;  to  take  them  up  from  the  dogmatic  moulds  in  wliich  they 
are  apt  to  lie  dead  in  an  uniiiquiring  age,  and  to  bring  them  face  to  face 
once  more  with  the  living  Word  and  with  all  true  knowledge.  This 
process  of  constant  inquest  regaTding  religious  ideas,  and  consequent 
purification  of  them  from  the  admixtures  of  error  and  false  philo- 
sophy, which  mark  human  progress  in  all  its  relations,  is,  accoKling 
to  this  school,  the  necessary  condition  of  all  real  thought  ahout  reli- 
gion. Theology  ceases  to  be  a  living  science  when  it  ceases  to  move, 
M'hen  it  imposes  itself  as  a  mere  mass  of  dogma  upon  the  conscience, 
instead  of  soliciting  the  continual  criticism  and  purification  of  the 
spiritual  reason.  Nor  is  such  a  process  of  movement  necessarily  of 
an  unsettling  character  in  theology  any  more  than  in  other  sciences, 
"Whatever  true  principles  theology  has  reached  in  the  past  remain  tme 
principles.  Truth  has  nothing  to  fear  anywhere  from  the  most 
rigorous  inquiry.  But  whatever  is  not  of  the  truth,  whatever  has 
Ijeen  imported  into  theology  from  the  darkness  of  human  error  or  the 
misconception  of  human  reason,  or,  in  other  wonls,  from  the  misread- 
ing of  Divine  revelation,  this  is  no  doubt  liable  to  be  unsettled  and 
exploded.  Unsettlement  of  this  kind  is  the  very  i)urpose  of  the 
movement,  but  only  that  in  the  end  the  truths  of  Divine  revelation, 
the  great  thoughts  of  God  towards  us  in  Christ,  may  Ije  seen  more 
clearly  and  understood  more  comprehensively. 

It  must  be  plain  that  the  application  of  the  term  rationalism  to 
two  such  distinct  modes  of  thought  as  we  have  now  described  is 
absurd.     And  yet  this  absurdity  is  constantly  practised.     Accusations 
of  rationalism  are  frequently  heard,  which  couple  together  such  theo- 
logians as  Strauss  and  Neander,  such  writers  as  Mr.  J.  Stuart  Mill  and 
X)ean  Stanley.     The  spirit  of  living  Christian  inquiry  represented  by 
the  great  Berlin  theologian,  in  some  respects  the  highest  expression  of 
the  Christian  reason  in  this  century,  is  indiscriminately  confounded 
"with  the  anti-Christian  dogmatism  which  it  was  tiie  main  labour  of 
Ids  life  to  controvert.     And  who  is  not  familiar  with  the  association 
of  the  names  of  the  Dean  of  Westminster  and  of  the  member  for 
"Westminster,  merely  because   the  former  ventured  to  vote  for  the 
latter,  and  has  spoken  favourably  of  certain  portions  of  his  writings, 
although  it  would  be  difficult  to   conceive   two  writers   more  con- 
trasted.  And  the  same  confusion  occurs  in  many  other  cases.   Writers 
whose  whole  culture  springs  out  of  Christian  principles,  across  the  clear 
light  of  which  a  shadow  is  never  thrown,  arc  classed  together  with 
writers  whose  principles  lie  quite  outside  the  range  of  Christian  ideas, 
and  present,  if  not  an  open  hostility  to  these  ideas,  yet  certainly  no 
Tational  consistency  with  them.     What  may  be  the  real  relation  of 
some  of  this  latter  class  of  writers   to   Christianity  it   is  not   our 
present  business  to  inquire.     But  in  any  case  it  can  admit  of  no 


370 


TJie  Contemporary  Review. 


i 


queBtioa  that  tlie  judgmeut  wkicli  classes  together  under  a  siiigl 
name  tendencies  of  opiniou  so  opposite  ia  utterly  siiiwrficial  and 
mialeading.  It  i&  not  a  critical  judgment  at  all,  hut  a  mere  blbid 
and  Stupid  jjTejuJicu.  It  must  be  farther  evident  tliat  a  '''  His- 
tory of  lidtioualiam "  is  hound  to  diacriininate  carefnlly  bet^reen 
such  tendciicifes  in  their  relation  to  Christian  theoloifry.  For,  slirjiiW 
it  be  granted  that  tlicre  ia  an  active  movement  ol'  thought  in  the 
modem  EitrDpean  mind  opposed  to  Christian  truth,  it  must  also  Ije 
allowed  that  tlu-re  has  always  been  a  liviuj;  movement  of  thought 
within  the  CJmrch,  which  iias  based  itself  prufesscdly  uii  the  recnji- 
uition  of  the  rigbta  of  reason,  as  not  only  not  inoonaistent  with  the 
claims  of  Cbnatiau  tnitli,  but  ns  nbaulutely  essential  to  the  true  state- 
ment aud  defence  of  thuae  claims.  Tiieulugy  itseif,  in  its  hiattiriciil 
development,  is  uotbiug  elstj  tliau  the  work  of  the  latter  movement ; 
it  is  the  fruit  of  tbe  exercise  of  the  Chrisliau  rea.'^ou  upon  tLtr  data 
of  spuitnal  trulli  revealed  in  Scripture,  and  in  the  s]>iritual  conscious- 
ne8&  In  short.,  tlie  history  of  tiieuluyy  is  the  history  of  rationalisu^H 
in  this  Litter  sense.  Any  other  conception  of  theoloj.'V',  save  as  the 
product  of  the  rontiuiied  and  evcr-expaudin;^^  auliou  of  the  Chiistian 
reason,  degmdes  it  into  a  mere  tmditiou  or  a  mere  superstition,  the 
dicta  of  an  mn^ejiaoning  sacerdotal  authority,  or  the  dicta  of  an  ertually 
unruasouing  popular  liiblicisiu.  In  ucit]ier  of  those  aspects  has  it 
any  pretension  to  rank  as  a  science  or  a  true  department  of  kuowleilge, 
attll  exercising  a  Hvini^  influence  over  human  citlture  and  j^rogress.*  ^m 
We  are  glad  that  Mr.  Lecky^  fiMKiuyh  he  has  uowhcm  cleared  up^| 
tlie  relation  between  rationalism  and  tbeolofjy,  but  in  some  resjietta 
embroiled  the  subject  with  confusioua  of  his  own,  yet  clearly  acknow- 
ledges the  substantive  jiurpetuity  of  Christiim  truth  under  all  the 
modificationis  of  opiniou  which,  it  has  uaderyoae,  and  many  of  which 

*  It  may  petha^  be  aAkod^  in  the  Tiev  of  Uus  dAsailicatiOiiL  of  mtionaJifiin,  what  t£t)gi|^l 
wo  Tt'ould  ajiply  lo  such  writcra  u  Pa^ua  of  the  older  ,»LliOol,  niid  GoeoniuA,  ba  'WctU-,  and 
Ferdiuimd  C.  llaur,  al'  tli?  murQ  racunt  si'huul  vt'  Gumiiui  divines ;  imd  furlher,  to  aucli 
writers  !L*  Bishop  CokoM,  and  the"  EsMyifltiflfldKeTiewtra"!:'  .\re  tlwjy  not  liali-moIisU  ? 
Are  they  not  opjioMnL  to  ChrLitianity  !^  Untiunaluts  cerliiiii)y  liicy  may  liilrly  Iw  i-cgnideJ ; 
hut  whi'tiiLT  op[)i>sed  to  (Jliriatiaiiity  or  nut  tnuat  b«  dDlcnuiiioti  m  eacli  ca^i^  hy  the  s)iirit 
anJiuEiliii^  tho  wrik'i'.  !□  so  far  as  thu  hina  of  nnti-flupti'nntiu-oliisiii  ia  discovetcd  fay  any 
tbeological  writer,  wc  feel  bound  to  reganl  Lirn  us  opponed  to  CLmtiBiiity,  -whiuh  [■rofi-d'^H 
edlybuea  Itaclf  on  the  flupuniutiial.  But 'witlnin  tbe  ruvcntnt  rts;u|L^tiou  of  the  supup^l 
natural  wiCneflicd  in  Suripture,  no  "  frte  handling"  of  fstripture,  however  opposed  to  our 
■Oicn  prei'onMptioii,  ia  nuiieasitrily  anti'-ChriBtiEn.  To  say  thnt  su<!k  im  event  in  Scjijjfure 
cfinnol  he  true  bc<:augeit  i»  auprmoliznil,  \s  whcily  ditft'Teut  trorn  saying  that  inch  luifcvent 
ncfd^n&t  be  concuived  as  supcraaturai,  wben  all  the  circunistftnccB  of  the  cafie,  and  the 
chamtttT  vS  early  literature,  are  tonaidcred.  The  foi-mtr  opinion  attauka  the  !il<ta  of  iho 
eupcroutunU  ucd  thQ  very  Bubatjunc-v  of  Si-riptun} ;  the  latter  merely  attacks  traditiunoi 
notions  of  Sgripturt.  The  foraiiT  is  anti-Christian,  thu  lalttT  laoy  he  {^sscctiaUy  CbriEtkii. 
Thejlifferoneo  bet■»'t!e^  the  two  ia  tdJ  the  difTcrutico  hotwctrn  reaaon  Cipi'liing  faith  in  ia<3«, 
pride  of  negatioa,  and  rec^gn  acti^ptiiiig  <U(d  Jllnmipinj;  iaith. 


Rationalism. 


371 


he  so  well  describes.  He  recofpiisea^  in  sbort,  while  eanstaiitly 
speaking  of  tlie  conflict  between,  the  ratlonaliatic  spirit  anil  theoloy;}'', 
that  the  couHict  is  not  netessaiy  or  essential.  Christiaiutj  survives, 
CUristiau  thecihigy,  iu  the  liighest  sense,  aun'ives,  all  entToackraeuta 
of  the  scientific  spuit.  Wliat  tliis  spirit  lias  destroyed,  or  inay  seem 
fijjtheT  destniyjii'i,  is  uut  Cliristiaiiity  in  any  \JL  its  vital  elements,  but 
only  external  addJti<jn,3  to  it,  mixtures  of  past  prejudice  or  erronei'iis 
pliiiosophy.  He  admits,  although  not  so  far  as  we  would  claim  tka 
iultiiissioii,  that  Chj-Jstianity  continues  a  living;  power  in  the  fai'e  of 
all  scientific  progress.  In  this  way  htj  aejiarntes  hiiasL-U'uutirely  from. 
jMt.  Buckle  and  the  Positive  schixil,  while  he  apeaku  of  Sir.  Buckle, 
!«  awTiter,  with  great  admiration.  lie  leeoguisea  the  enduring  life  of 
Christianity  in  the  stivniffeat  manner,  nnd  in  the  very  decay  of  nlJ 
forms  of  belief  sees  the  aeed  of  a  hifjher  spiritual  culture  wliiali 
con  never  periah  out  of  human  liistory.     He  says, — 

"Jfo  one  i;aii  iloulit  that  if  thu  Jiimies  of  thoui^ht  now  pr«vaQing  on  tlit'se 

eiibjccts,  p^'cri  m  llomau  (.'iithoiic  t^oiuitritia,  coiild  have  heeu  jitoRentwi  to 

the  luJEtd  of  a  ChrUtiau  nf  the  tiViillU)  cenUiry,  he  would  Iiiivu  aaid  tliat  so 

t;oniplft,e  hq  ultei-utiun  ^I'liidil  involve  tliu  abe^jlute  dcstructioJi  of  ChrL^tiuJiity. 

As  a  imtttor  of  fact,  iiuiat  uf  these  modifications  wero  forcoil  upuD  tht!  R-luutiiut 

<*hup.'h  hy  i!ie  prcwuvp  frum  withnat,  and  wtire  H-iiL'j.-ially  rmstud  and  de- 

Mounoed  by  the  Ijulk  of  the  {0(!r^'y,     Tlitiy  wuro  reprtiat'iittd  us  subvuraivi:  of 

Chrisiianity,     Tliu  iloctrino  that  ruliyiun  could  be  dfatini?d  io  \A\&i  tlimiigh 

sucwasivG    j)hiuieti  aK   di'Vehtpnieut   was    pruuomieud    to    ho   ciiiphatically 

nnchtistiaii.     'Xliw  iduol  Uliuruli  w!is  iihvays  in  tht;  jiiiat,  and  im.nnitability,  if 

not  rulTogi-ession,  wii»  deouisd  the  condition  of  b_fi;.     AVe  can  now  judge  this 

iTesiataTicc  by  the  clciir  hj^lit  of  experiGnue.     Dogmatii;  83'stems  bnv<3,  it  is  truo, 

been  luaterially  weaki^iitidj   thcy  HO  longer  exercLsi*  a  corttiijHing  iaflufnce 

iiwnc  thL'  current  o!'  uH'airg,     ,     ,     ,     EcyJesiasticul  power  throughout  Eurojie 

Ilis  been  uvcryivhere  ivwakcned,  and  weakened  in  «ach  nation  iji  pruporlion 

to  its  iBleLI«i;tU'iI  pn-yrt**^     If  wo  were  to  jud^e  tho  prissunt  position  of 

Christianity  by  the  ti'sts  of  ecchiiiiistical  historj',  il'  w«  were  to  measure  it  liy 

tile  orthoil'-x  zeal  of  the  great  doctors  of  tliu  jjast,  we  might  well  louik  u;>on 

its  piiJB pi!':t>*  with  the  deepest  despondency  !ind  aUrm,     Tlitj  spiiit  of  tbo 

Fathvi-»  lias  Liii-'ontcsi^tbly  fadt;d.     The  diiys  of  Atkuiaaius  and  Auj^isline 

have  p;i»«ud  awa,y  ncvL'C  to  return.     Th*;  whole  coureo  of  tliouybt  ie  tii.iwhig 

iu  tuiotla.'!-  dinjutitfa.     The  controTersies  of  bygono  ■centurleK  ring  with  a 

atEangi;  hoIJowneus  on  tlie  car.    But  if,  tiiriung  from  ecclesiastical  hiat<jrinns, 

we  ajijily  the  exul naively  moral  tests  which  the  liew  Testament  ao  iitviiriidjiy 

iUid  80  cuiphaticiiUy  enforced — if  we  aak  wbetlier  Chi-iatiiinity  haa  ceased  to 

pronluce  the  living  fruits  of  love  autl  charity  ;md  wal  foi  truth,  tho  contlu- 

aion  we  should  arrive  at  woidd  he  very  diflcrent     If  it  be  true  Cluistianity 

to  divf^,  with  a  piissioiiati'  charity,  into  the  darkest  recesses  of  iitisery  and  of 

vi^ae,  to  irrigate  cveiy  quarter  of  the  earth  with  the  fertiliisiug  stn-iim  of  an 

ohnost  bouuJlt;8s  IxinovolencCj  and  to  iiitdudw  all  tho  aectiuna  of  litimtiniiy 

in  tho  cirele  of  an  intense  and  L-Mcacions  sympathy — if  it  iw)  true  Clnis- 

tianity  to  destoTiyur  wt-abcn  the  hmmcrs  which  had  aeparateil  class  from  rlnas 

iiaJ  Uiilion  fi'uin  nation,  to  free,  war  from  its  harshest  tdenicntg,  and  to  make 

a  cjtni^iousne&a  of  essential  equality  and  of  a  (•eniune  fmternity  dominate 

wer  all  iLccidental  ditferencea — ^if  it  be,  above  all,  true  Christianity  to  culti- 


iA 


37  = 


The  Conlemporary  Review. 


vate  a  love  of  tnitli  for  its  own  sake,  a  siiirit  of  oAiidour  iinil  of  tolerani 
towanla  those  ^^^th  whiiiii  wt  ilifttr, — if  tlif-se  lie  the  marks  of  a  tnie  ami 
healthy  CUristliuiity,  tlu-n  never,  since  the  days  of  the  npostles,  has  it  biL'fii 
so  viyorous  as  at  present,  and  the  decline  of  dogmatic  aystcUis  and  of  clerical 
inHmsnee  lias  been    a  mcasiiro  if  not   a   uaus«  cif  its  advance." — (Vol.   i, 
pp.  203-5.) 


Again  be  says^ — 


I 


"'lliern  ia  Init  one  example  of  a  religion  wliich  is  not  naturally  wL'ukenei] 
by  civilization,  naitl  that  example  is  L'hristiamty.  In  nil  other  caees  the 
decay  of  dogmatic  conceptions  is  tantatuotmi  to  a  complete  annihilation  of 
the  relij^on  ;  for  althouj^h  them  may  be  imperishul'le  elements  of  nioTnl 
truth  mingled  -with  those  concfjiliniis,  they  have  nothing  (listiuttive  or 
pecnlinr.  'ITie  moral  tnitha  coalesce  with  neu-  systems ;  the  men  who 
uttered  tliem  litte  their  place,  with  many  others,  in  the  ^^I'at  |jatithf?ou  nf 
History,  and  the  religion,  having  dJscLaryed  its  functions,  is  spent  and 
withetwl.  But  thf  f^ruat  chaRn:tLTi8tiL"  of  C'hristkinity,  and  the  preat  Uiotul 
proof  of  its  Divinity,  is  that  it  lifts  hisu  the  main  source  of  thi?  mtiiul  devclop- 
luynt  of  iluroyw,  and  tliat  it  has  dischargt'd  this  olhcv  nut  so  nuich  by  tlie 
inculcation  of  a  system  of  etliics,  however  piin.\  i\m  by  the  jissirudatiny  and 
attractive  influence  nf  a  perfi'ct  idcaL  Tlie  nionil  progress  of  niankiflcl  ca 
nev^r  ceasB  to  l»e  dietinttively  and  intensely  L'liristian  as  long  as  it  consia 
of  a  gradual  approximation  to  thi^  ehitract«r  of  the  Chrii^tiHn  Fouude 
There  is,  indeed,  notliin^  morti  wonderful  in  th«  liistory  of  the  hiuutm 
than  the  way  in  which  that  idwd  has  Intvereed  the  kpsit:  of  agte,  acquiring  a" 
nyw  strength  and  heaiily  with  vach  advance  of  eiviliiation,  and  infusijig  its 
heueticeiit  iuHucncie  into  ever}'  sphrn'  of  thuiight  and  action.  At  first  men 
Boiiyht  to  grasp,  by  minute  dDgmatic  definitions,  the  Divinity  thty  felt. 
Thtt  couti'ovi^iBii-e  of  the  HoniiiHiusianB.  or  llnnopliyBit^e,  or  Xestoriana,  nr 
Patripnsttian.9,  and  many  othera  whose  verj-  names  now  sound  stmn^e  and 
remoHi,  then  tilled  thci  Churcli.  Then  camt  the  period  of  visihk-  a-jiTCBcnta- 
tions.  The  hanilkerchiof  of  Veroniica,  the  jiorttmt  of  Edessa,  the  crucitix  nf 
Nicodeuius,  tlie  pnintuigs  of  l^t.  Lnke,  ths  imayd  tnicetl  hy  an  nngel'e  hand 
which  is  still  vcneiated  at  the  Lntemn,  the  counthas  viaiona  iiarHLte*!  by  the 
saints,  show  the  lagenifs;*  with  wluch  men  sought  to  waliit:,  as  a  jialjiahh* 
and  living  image,  their  ideal,  'lliis  aye  was  followed  by  that  of  lijst(.>rical 
evidences — the  age  of  Selionde  and  his  fiillowers.  Ytt  more  and  more,  with 
advancing  years,  the  moral  ideal  stmul  nut  fn.iin  all  dogmatic  conception? jy 
its  Divinity  W^aa  recugnitted  by  its  perfection,  and  it  is  no  exaggoratiun  to  sh] 
that  at  no  fomtor  period  was  it  ao  powerful  ur  so  uuiversally  ackjioivk'dgi'd 
ae  «t  pcesent,  Thii;  is  a  phenomeuon  altoggtlier  unj'ine  in  histury,  mid  lo 
those  who  njcognise  in  the  highe-st  type  of  exwllenco  the  lughest  ruvflatioii 
of  the  I'eity,  its  iniport&nce  is  too  luanit'wBt  to  be  overlookorE."— l^'oL  t., 
pp.  ZZQ-%.)  ^ 

Mr.  Leeky  anan^'ea  his  work  in  six  chapters.  The  first  two  iif  thfse 
chapters  deal  witli  the  "  EeclijiiTiy  Sense  of  thti  Mivaculnns,"  first  iu  the 
s^ieclal  forms  i>f  "  Ma^ic  aud  Witdicmft,"  or  geDenilly  nf  tlialiolic  iiiflu- 
euce ;  and  secondly,  in  reference  to  tlie  "  Minn.QeB  uf  the  Cliurcli."  W"e 
have  already  so  far  indicated  hia  treatment  of  the  auhjei:t  of  Witch- 
crafty  wliicb  is  in  many  respects  the  most  striking  and  intei-esting  part 
of  liis  work,  whiltj  it  8how3  at  the  same  time  moat  clearly  the  i 


Rationalism.  3  73 

teristics  of  his  mode  of  thought.     It  is  a  melancholy  chapter  of  Imman 
history,  and  it  certainly  loses  none  of  the  darkness  of  its  colouring 
iu  Mr.  Lecky's  pages.     He  appears  to  us  particularly  successful  in 
explaining  the  intensity  of  the  superstition  in  the  twelfth  century, 
and  again  in  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  following  the 
lleformation.     The  very  movement  of  intellectual  doubt,  characteristic 
of  these  epochs,  only  served  to  deepen  the  horror  of  Satanic  agency. 
For  as  yet  the  spirit  of  douht  did  not  venture  to  attack  the  reality  of 
this  agency,  even  in  the  most  gross  and  fantastic  results  which  had 
lieen  attributed  to  it.     Luther,  as  is  well  known,  was  a  slave  to  the 
■wildest  delusions  on  this  subject     In  every  critical  event,  in  every 
mental  perturbation,  he  recognised  Satanic  agency.     "  In  the  monas- 
tery at  "Wittemberg  he  continually  heard  the  devil  making  a  noise  in 
the  cloisters.    The  black  stain  in  the  Castle  of  Wartburg  still  marks  the 
place  where  he  flung  an  inkbottle  at  the  devil.    .    .    .    The  devil  could 
transport  men  at  his  will  through  the  air.     He  could  beget  children ; 
and  Luther  had  himself  come  in  contact  with  one  of  them.    An  intense 
love  of  children  was  one  of  the  most  amiable  characteristics  of  the 
great  reformer ;  but  on  this  occasion  he  most  earnestly  recommended 
the  reputed  relati\'e3  to  throw  the  child  into  the  river,  in  order  to  free 
their  house  from  the  presence  of  a  devil.     As  a  natural  consequence 
of  these  modes  of  thought,  witchcraft  did  not  present  the  slightest  im- 
probability to  his  mind."    And  Luther's  case  was  not  in  this  respect 
an  exaggerated  type  of  the  Christian  mind  in  the  sixteenth  century. 
Even  in  the  latter  half  of  the  seventeenth  century,  as  we  have  seen, 
such  men  as  Sir  Matthew  Hale,  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  and  Joseph 
Glanvil,  profoundly  believed  in  witchcraft,  or,  in  other  wonls,  in  the 
power  of  Satan  incarnated  in  old  women  to  hurt  and  destroy  their 
neighbours. 

But,  as  Mr.  Lecky  explains,  while  this  undoubting  belief  in  the  pre- 
sence of  diabolic  power  as  a  destructive  agent  in  the  world  continued, 
the  counterpart  belief,  so  prevalent  during  tlie  Middle  Ages,  of  the  in- 
fluence of  sacred  charms — such  as  the  sign  of  the  cross,  or  a  few  drops  of 
holy  water,  or  the  name  of  Mary — to  dispel  the  evil  presence,  had  begun 
to  decline  with  the  first  movement  of  awakening  thought  in  the  twelfth 
century,  and  in  the  progress  of  the  Reformation  altogether  disappeared. 
Tlie  necessary  consequence  of  this  was  an  increased  religious  teiTorism. 
The  old  protections  against  witchcraft  were  undermined  or  destroyed, 
and  yet  there  remained  an  imhesitating  belief  in  its  reality.  And 
so  it  was  that  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  so  glorious 
in  many  respects,  are  yet  so  disgracefully  darkened  by  the  prevalence 
of  this  ignoble  and  debasing  superstition.  Puritanism,  amidst  all  its 
moral  dignity,  was  in  this  matter  specially  blameable.  It  encouraged 
and  stimulated  the  darkest  views  of  human  life.     It  attributed,  with- 


\ 


374 


The  Contemporary  Review, 


out  any  liesitation,  opposition  to  its  peculiar  tenets  to  the  direct 
inspimtion  of  Siitnn.  Tts  enemies  were  Bcircerera  and  ehililren  of  the 
cleWl.  In  Scotlaadp  as  Sir.  l^cky  shows,  the  spread  <ir  ruritaniaiii 
gave  a  feai-fid  impidse  to  religious  terrorism.  I're\iou.sly  to  tlie  Ktsl'iir- 
mation  there,  iTitclicraft  in  its  darkest  I'orm  was  so  rare  lliat  no  la^ 
existed  on  the  subject  A  law  wns  made  for  the  first  time  in  156^ 
hut  it  v-fis  not  til]  1500  niid  8uhficsi[^aently,  under  llie  iuiiuence  of  what 
is  eometitiiea  called  tha  second  Reformation,  that  it  attained  to  its 
full  severity. 

"Tlifc  cltii^' iiU  over  Scotland  np^ikuJiid  litid  stiiQUlatflJ  the  persecution. 
The  Mseptidcncy  they  had  chtainL-d  \i&»  hoiiiKUcsa  ;  and  in  this  ri'spect  their 
Jiowi-r  was  cntii-cly  undis.pittt'fU  Ohc  wcml  from  tftcin  niiglit  havu  anrsttd 
the  tjjrturi's,  hut  that  wonl  wiis  never  spoken.  Their  conduct  implies  not 
msirfly  a  mental  alx*rrotion,  hut  also  a  callousness  «f  ft-fliug  whicli  hu*  raivlv 
htjcn  sttiiiiiL'il  ill  a  Icnp  career  of  vict-.  Yet  th^se  were  nu-n  who  hud  uilcii 
shown,  in  tJip  most  tr^nng  circumstances,  tlie  high.-st  and  the  iiKist  lieniic 
■\"irtnee.  They  nero  jmn  wlioev  Lonrage  had  m'TCT  fiiijclnd  when  perawn- 
tion  wiK  iBging  arouiid^ — men  who  hail  never  paltfjnxl  with  thetr  cnaiscit'iiMS 
to  attain  thf  favours  of  a  king — niea  wlms*"  self-d«vQtit>u  and  zeal  in  tlietr 
eacrt'd  calLins  liad  sfidom  heeii  enrpa>^sed — men  who,  in  all  tlie  private 
r«latioii»  of  lif(.!,  weru  doubth'SB  iuninlili.'  and  fttt'eclionate.  It  is  not  on  tljoni 
that  nur  Illume  eliould  fiiU :  it  is  on  the  ej'&tem  that  niadi?  tlii'Ui  whiit  thoy 
werc.  They  were  hut  illiiBtratione  of  tlie  gre«t  truth,  that  wlipn  men  Imvi; 
comfl  to  H'fciird  a  certain  [ilass  of  their  ft-llow-crtnturfs  as  doomt'd  hv  Ihc 
Ahinyhty  to  ttemul  and  excmciatiniL;  agouii's,  and  when  their  theolijgy 
directs  their  niinde  with  intense  find  rcaEizing  ca.meat.nes9  to  tin-  fr>utenipla- 
lion  of  such  ogunics,  this  rfault  will  Iw  an  indifleroncc  to  the  suflering  of 
tiiose  whrrni  they  deem  the  cnumii'a  of  their  Chxl,  as  absolute  iis  it  is  perhaps 
po«aible  for  himion  nature  to  attain." 

"We  bftvo  already  adverted  to  the  decay  of  tliis  horrible  superst^HI 
tion.  and  the  prf)ces,=;e3  of  reason  -which  ivere  iuflucutia]  in  thi^  dectiv. 
Of  all  tlie  beneficial  resadts  of  a  acttuititie  knowledge  of  nature,  and  of 
a  purified  idea  of  the  snpematnral,  there  is  none  more  signal  or  more 
beneficent  than  the  utter  doatrnction  which  has  ovei-taken  tlie  paili- 
cular  idea  of  Satanic  ayency  on  which  witchcraft  resti^d.  "WTitn  we 
think  of  the  countless  anll'erings  it  entailed  on  those  least  able  to  defend 
themselves,  and  of  the  active  suppoii  which  it  derived  from  a  religion 
which,  in  its  true  cliaracter,  is  ii  gospel  to  e^'ery  atllicted  soul,  one 
is  appalletl  at  the  picture  suggested  to  the  mind,  the  picture  at 
once  of  human  misciy  and  fif  human  peirei-sity.  No  class  of"  victims 
pndiiLhly  endured  such  unalloyed  sufierings.  Ifeither  the  nqitures  ol 
martyrdom  nor  the  endunmce  of  exulting  heroism  was  theirs, — 


"Tlieydicd  aloue^  hated  and  impitietb     They  were  deemed  by  all  m 
kind  the  worst  of  criiuinala.     'Their  vtirj  kinsmen  shrank  front  thi-ia  aa 
taint^'d  and  accursed.     Tlio  suiiewtitinns  they  had  imbibed  in  childhr>oil, 
blending  ■ftdth  the  illusions  of  age,  and  with  the  horrors  of  their  poeition, 


) 


M 


Rationalism.  375 

yersuaded  them,  in  many  cases,  that  they  were  indeed  the  bond-slaves  of 
iSatan,  and  were  about  to  exchange  their  tormenta  upon  earth  for  an  agony 
that  was  as  excruciating,  and  was  eternal.  And  besides  all  this,  we  liave  to 
consider  the  terrors  which  the  behef  must  have  spread  through  the  people 
at  large ;  we  have  to  picture  the  anguish  of  the  mother,  as  she  imagined 
that  it  was  in  the  power  of  one  whom  she  liad  offendal  to  blast  in  a  moment 
every  object  of  her  affection  ;  we  have  to  conceive,  above  all,  the  awful 
shadow  that  the  dread  of  accusation  must  have  thrown  on  the  enfeebled 
facilities  of  age,  and  the  bitterness  it  must  have  added  to  desertion  and 
to  solitude." 

It  is  pitiful  to  reflect  that  ministers  of  the  Christian  religion  should 
liave  been  amongst  the  prime  agents  in  promoting  such  a  miserable 
delusion ;  tliat  they  should  have  clung  to  it  with  blind  tenacity  when 
the  lay  intellect  had  begun  to  rise  above  it ;  that  the  fear  of  the  devil 
should  for  ages  have  so  wholly  paralyzed  and  darkened  in  their  hearts 
the  love  and  the  light  of  God,  and  that  at  last  they  should  have  been 
driven  from  it  as  much  by  the  laughter  of  folly  as  by  the  progress  of 
reason.  While  we  think  gratefully  of  all  that  we  owe  to  such  men,  it 
is  good  for  us  also  to  remember  tliat  there  are  subjects  on  which  they 
— or  at  least  the  mass  of  them — have  never  been  leaders,  but  rather 
"blind  followers  of  the  blind.  Human  progress  and  freedom  owe 
much  to  them,  but  there  is  also,  as  in  this  case,  a  heavy  reckoning 
on  the  other  side,  and  the  march  of  real  enlightenment  and  even  of 
Christian  truth  has  been  sometimes  made  not  by  means  of  them,  hut 
in  spite  of  them. 

In  his  second  chapter  Mr.  Lecky  treats  of  the  "  Decline  of  the 
Miraculous"  as  a  general  belief  in  the  ChurclL  He  shows  clearly  that 
there  is  no  definite  age  of  miracles  in  the  liistory  of  the  Church.  With 
Middleton,  he  rejects  the  old  I'rotcstant  theory,  that  "  miracles  became 
gradually  fewer  and  fewer,  till  they  at  last  entirely  disappeared ;"  and 
accepts  without  reserve  the  statement  of  tliis  intrepid  writer  in  his 
"  Free  Inquiry,"  that  as  far  as  the  Church  historians  can  illustrate  or 
throw  light  upon  anytliing,  "  there  is  not  a  single  point  in  all  history 
so  constantly,  explicitly,  and  unanimously  affirmed  by  them  all  as  the 
continual  succession  of  these  (miraculous)  powers  through  all  ages, 
from  the  earliest  Father  who  first  mentions  them  down  to  the  time  of 
the  Eeformation."  So  far  from  being  "  rare  and  exceptional  pheno- 
mena," miracles  were  supposed  to  be  of  familiar  and  daily  occurrence 
in  the  lives  of  the  early  and  mediaival  saints.  "  They  were  a  kind  of 
celestial  charity,  alleviating  the  sorrows,  healing  the  diseases,  and 
supplying  the  wants  of  the  faitliful."  Tliey  were  the  signs  of  saintly 
distinctions  everywhere,  and  there  were  no  bounds  to  the  credulity  with 
which  they  were  received.  "  There  was  scarcely  a  town  that  could 
not  show  some  relic  that  had  cured  the  sick,  or  some  image  that  had 
opened  and  shut  its  eyes  or  bowed  its  head  to  an  earnest  worshipper." 


\ 


376 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


Tlie  Ciitircli,  in  short,  lived  for  fifteen  centuries  more  or  leas  in  a  super- 
aatiiral  atmosphere,  -ft'lLich  Itas  at  length  almost  entirely  disappeaivJ, 
Dofc  otily  in  Protestant  but  iti  Rnmau  Catholic,  countries.  The  {e\r 
alleged  inimcles  which  are  attll  sumctiities  heanl  of,  such  as  the  lique- 
faction of  the  Wood  of  St.  Jimuarlus,  or  the  jierfonuaMcea  of  the  Holy 
Coat  at  Ti-eve:*,  are  subjects  of  derision  rather  tliau  of  cxidtation,  even 
among  linman  Catholics.  "  Educated  ijerstms  speak  of  theui  with 
undisguiseil  scorn  and  iun-edidity;  some  attempt  to  evade  or  a.'qiljiin 
them  away  by  a  natm-al  hj-puthcsis ;  a  verj'  few  faintly  and  apolngetio- 
ally  defend  them."  All  this  has  been  the  result  of  an  insensible 
modiiicjition  of  liuman  belief  reynRling  the  supernatural.  Men  have 
ceased  to  think  of  it  as  they  once  did. 

Here,  as  in  the  funiier  chapter,  My.  Lecky  speaks  more  oi"  the 
[Teiieral  s]iLrLt  of  -civilization,  and  thi>  chnngiid  habits  of  thought  which 
have  come  with  the  groii'tli  uf  this  spirit,  than  of  the  sppi-ial  pruce^es 
of  thouj'ht  which  have  coTitributed  to  it  and  made  it  wliat  it  is.  And 
with  siani^thinjj  of  the  same  vaguenes.s  he  avoids  the  all-important 
question  t<f  the  true  import  of  th«  supernatural  in  rehitiou  to  Chria- 
tian  hiatory.  There  is  nothing  m  liis  remarks,  indeed,  nor  in  his 
mode  of  thinkinji,  which  compels  the  inference  that  the  supcmntural, 
as  a  liviuy  fact  lying  »t  tlie  root  of  Christianity,  must  in  his  esti- 
mation be  abauduned  along  with  the  thousund  puerile  excrescences 
of  mihiculrius  le«^end  ^vhich  Iiavt^  gmwn  out  of  the  fact.  As  a  meru 
historian  of  opinion  lie  wfia  not  ]ierhapa  bound  to  do  more  than 
sketch  accurately  the  chunges  of  belief  which  he  jjasses  under 
review.  We  should  have  liked,  at  the  same  time,  that  lie  hud 
expressed  himself  more  clearly  on  this  subject,  and  that  ivhile  ex- 
posing the  excej^ses  of  superaatuj-altsni  he  had  cleared  the  true  idea  of 
the  supematm-al  from  all  counectlDn  with  these  excesses.  There  is  no 
section  of  the  L'hriatian  Chuich  which  any  longer  vekonies  t!ie  asser- 
tion of  miraculous  powers  aa  an  attribute  of  even  the  most  exalted 
piety.  Enlightened  Cln-istian  thought  no  longer  holds  to  the  once 
universal  notion  that  miracles  are  to  be  regarded  as  mere  aibitraiy 
interferencca  with  the  operations  of  nature,  ninrking  their  Divine 
origin  by  their  exceptional  character.  All  higher  intelligence  now 
i-ecogniaes  the  universal  "reign  of  law 5"  Iiut  the  same  intelligence, 
whenever  it  ia  reverent  and  open,  and,  in  a  word.  Christian,  also 
recognises  that  the  rei^pi  of  natural  law  can  never  be  held  aa  validly 
excluding  the  personal  agency  of  the  great  Being  wlio  established 
and  who,  for  some  fitting  aud  unexampled  piu"pose,  may  soe  fit 
sui>ersGde  it  by  the  nianifestfttion  of  a  higher  la\\'. 

We  cannot  follow  Mr.  Lecky  through  liie  details  of  his  ne.t 
chapter,  which  are  very  interestiug  but  veiy  multifarious.  He  tracea 
in  rapid  succession  the  "  .'E-sthetic,  Scientific,  and  Moral  Developmcni 


I 


Rationalism.  ^yj 

of  Bationalism,"  collecting,  especially  under  the  first  point  of  view, 
many  interesting  particulars  of  the  modification  of  art  under  the 
changing  conceptions  of  the  supernaturaL  He  describes  the  simplicity 
and  the  cheerfulness  of  early  Christian  art,  notwithstanding  that  it  was 
an  eicluaively  sepulchral  art : — "  The  places  that  were  decorated  were 
the  catacombs ;  the  chapels  were  all  surrounded  by  the  dead ;  the 
sitar  upon  which  the  sacred  mysteries  were  celebrated  was  the  tomb 
of  a  martyr.  ...  It  would  seem  but  natural  that  the  great  and 
terrible  scenes  of  Christian  vengeance  should  be  depicted.  Yet 
nothing  of  this  kind  appears  in  the  catacombs :  with  two  doubtful 
exceptions  there  are  no  representations  of  martyrdoms.  Daniel  un- 
lanned  amid  the  lions,  the  unaccomplished  sacrifice  of  Isaac,  the 
fliree  children  unscathed  amid  the  flames,  and  St.  Peter  led  to  prison, 
are  the  only  images  that  reveal  the  horrible  persecution  that  was 
raging.  There  wag  no  disposition  to  perpetuate  forms  of  suffering, 
no  ebullition  of  bitterness  or  complaint,  no  thirsting  for  vengeance. 
Neither  the  Crucifixion,  nor  any  of  the  scenes  of  the  Passion,  were 
mr  represented  j  nor  was  the  Day  of  Judgment,  nor  were  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  lost.  The  wreaths  of  flowers,  in  which  Paganism  delighted, 
and  even  some  of  the  more  joyous  images  of  the  Pa^n  mythology, 
were  still  retained,  and  were  mingled  with  aU  the  most  beautiful 
emblems  of  Christian  hopes,  and  with  representations  of  many  of  the 
miracles  of  mercy." 

It  was  not  till  the  close  of  the  tenth  century  that  Christian  art 
b^n  to  lose  its  originally  peaceful  character,  and  became  familiar 
with  images  of  suffering  and  torture.  Then,  with  the  firet  access  of 
religious  terrorism,  art  is  found  faithfully  reflecting  tlie  gloomy 
impulses  of  the  time.  The  Good  Shepherd  which  adorns  almost  eveiy 
chapel  in  the  catacombs  is  no  more  seen ;  the  miracles  of  mercy  cease 
to  be  represented,  and  are  replaced  by  the  detaUa  of  the  Passion  and 
the  terrors  of  the  Last  Judgment.  "  The  countenance  of  Christ  became 
sterner,  older,  and  more  mournful.  About  the  twelfth  century  this 
change  becomes  almost  universaL  From  this  period,  writes  one  of 
the  most  learned  of  modern  archffiologista,*  Christ  appears  more  and 
more  melancholy,  aud  often  truly  terrible.  It  is  indeed  the  Eci: 
iremendcE  majestatis  of  our  dies  ircc."  Similarly,  he  shows  bow,  with 
the  revival  of  Greek  literature  and  the  knowledge  of  ancient  art, 
religion  ceased  to  be  the  mistress  and  became  the  seirant  of  art. 
At  first  the  religious  conception  was  everything;  a;sthetic  elements 
were  scarcely  considered.  Then,  in  tlie  first  bloom  of  Italian  art,  the 
glorious  creations  of  the  Florentine  school,  we  see  the  two  united. 
Finally,  the  religious  sentiment  disappears,  and  the  conception  of 
beauty  alone  remains.  Mr.  Lecky  considers  Michael  Angelo  to  mark 
•  Didion,  "  loonogTBpMe  Chn?tienne." 
VOL.  I.  2  C 


3/8  The  CoiUemporaiy  Review. 

tliis  last  stage  of  development.  "  Scai-cely  any  otiier  painter  so  com- 
pletely eliminated  the  religioua  sentiment  fi-om  art ;  and  it  was 
lesen'ed  for  him  to  destrny  the  most  fcfirful  of  all  the  coneeiitiona  Ijy 
wliich  the  efirly  pnintcfs  bad  thrilled  the  people.  By  making  tlie  Last 
Judgment  a  study  of  naked  figures,  and  by  introducing  into  it  Cbaron 
and  his  boat,  he  most  eft'ectually  destroyed  all  sense  is'i  its  reality, 
and  reduced  it  to  the  province  uf  artistic  (Criticism.  This  freaco  may 
be  regartled  as  tlie  culmination  of  the  movement.  There  were,  (if 
course,  at  a  later  period  some  great  pictures,  and  even  some  religious 
painters ;  but  painting  never  again  assumed  its  old  position  ub  the 
normal  and  habitual  expression  of  the  religious  sentiments  of  Um 
educated." 

Thu  main  contributions  of  the  progi-ess  of  science  to  rationalism  arc 
X'eckoned  by  Mr.  Lecky  to  he  the  destruction  uf  the  old  theoloigical 
Conceptions  of  creation,  and  of  the  penal  character  of  death.  The 
science  of  geology  lie  considers  to  have  disproved  both  of  tbesu  oon- 
ceptions.  It  has  "  thrown  hack  to  an  incalculable  ihstance  the  horizon 
of  creation,"  and  "  renovated  and  transformed  all  the  eai'ly  interjireta- 
tious  of  the  Mosaio  cosmogony."  I'articulaiij'  "  it  has  proveil  that 
countless  ages  before  man  trod  the  earth,  death  raged  and  revelled 
among  its  occupants;  that  it  so  entered  into  the  origtual  constitution 
of  things  that  the  agony  and  the  infirmity  it  implies  were  known,  as 
at  present,  wlien  the  mastodon  ami  the  diuothcnmn  werf  the  rulers  of^ 
the  world.  To  deny  this  is  now  inipusaible ;  to  admit  it  is  to  abandon 
one  of  the  rooted octriues  of  the  past" 

IiL  P]ie4iking  in  this  chapter,  again,  of  the  siibstitulion  of  the  idea 
tif  law  for  supernatural  intervention,  he  has  some  notable  remarks, 
showing  how  mucli  he  is  separated  from  the  materialism  of  tlie  Positive 
School.  Supposing,  he  says,  it  were  proved,  accoidijig  to  the  i-apidly 
growing  morphological  conceiition  of  the  imivcrse,  that  it  was  aii 
<'rgaiiisin  rather  than  a  niechanism — the  resalt  of  gradual  and  alow 
evolution-  from  within  i-athei"  thou  of  sjieciid  interfere ock  fi\mi  withi^nt, 
thia  would  not  really  affect  the  thaistic  conclusion  which  has  betu 
d^a^\^l  from  the  complexities  and  adaptiitions  which  it  disjdays-  It- 
wonld  merely  change  the  forni  of  its  statement ; — 

"  That  matter  is  govRmed  by  uiind — that  thy  ■coulrEVfimite  and  elaliciratioiia- 
of  the  univ«rao  are  the  products  of  iutiilligt'iu'f, —  iire  propusitiona  which  iir» 
quite  unshnk*'!!,  ivh«ther  we  regard  these  coutrivaiicfB  ae  the  results  of  a  single 
mo,m«ut«ry  txtTuiae  of  wdJ,  or  of  alow,  consistent,  ami  wgidattid  Kvolutiona. 
The  pruolii  uf  pcTviidiug  and  dfivelo-puig  inttiUiyeiicE,  uiid  the  proofs  of  h  va- 
ordin.^ting  and  sustaining  in telligeuce,  are  both  uutonched,  nor  can  any  con- 
ceivable jirogreas  of  Kcifuuc  in  this  diTGction  destroy  thtm.  If  the  fimioitd  sug- 
gestion that  all  animal  anil  vegetable  hfe  results  from  a  singU-  viUiI  gtTin,  and 
that  all  the  different  animals  and  pJants  now  cxiHtent  were  devijlojjod  by  u. 
natural  process  of  livolutiou  fpojn  that  germ,  were  a  demonstrated  truths  wn 
should  BlUl  he  al>le  to  point  to  the  evidence  of  intelligence  displayed  in  the 


Rationalism.  3  79 

measured  and  pn^ressive  development,  in  those  exquisite  fonne,  so  different 
from  what  blind  chance  could  produce,  and  in  the  manifest  adaptation  of 
surrounding  circumstances  to  tlie  living  creature,  and  of  the  living  creatui'o 
to  surrounding  circumstances.  The  argument  from  design  would  indeed  bo 
changed ;  it  would  require  to  bo  stated  in  a  new  form,  but  it  would  bo  fully 
as  cogent  aa  before.  Indeed,  it  is  perhaps  not  too  much  t-o  say,  that  the 
more  fully  this  conception  of  universal  evolution  is  grasped,  the  more  fully 
a  scientific  doctrine  of  Providence  will  bo  established,  and  the  stronger  will 
be  Uie  presumption  of  a  future  progress," 

The  chief  moral  development  of  rationalism  which  our  author  brings 
into  view  is  the  transfoimation  which  he  believes  to  have  come  over 
the  once  muTetsal  conception  of  hell  as  a  place  of  material  fire  and  end- 
less tortuie.   He  draws  a  vivid  picture  of  the  influence  of  tliis  concep- 
tion in  early  and  mediaeval  Christianity,  and  then  shows  how  entirely 
it  has  passed  away  from  any  but  the  coarsest  representations  even  of 
orthodox  theology.     The  hideous  pictures  in  which  the  theological 
mind  once  curiously  delighted,  which  kindled  the  gloomy  genius  of 
TertuUian  with  a  wild  flow  of  eloquence,  and  gave  a  darker  hue  to 
the  awful  statements  of  Augustine  and  Aquinas,  which  were  once  so 
carefully  elaborated,  and  so  constantly  enforced  in  the  pulpit,  have 
been  replaced  by  a  few  vague  sentences  on  the  subject  of  "  perdition," 
or  by  the  general  assertion  of  a  future  adjustment  of  tlie  inequalities  of 
life.     And  this  gradual  and  silent  tmnsformation  of  the  popular  con- 
ceptions he  traces  to  the  progress  of  the  moral  sentiment,  to  "  the  habit 
of  educing  moral  and  intellectual  truths  from  our  own  sense  of  right 
rather  than  from  traditional  teaching."      It  is  Impossible,  he  says, 
for   men  who  have  attained  to  higher  spiritual  ideas  of  right  and 
\vrong,  of  truth  and  falsehood,  than  those  which  prevailed  in  the 
Patristic  and  mediseval  Church,  to  rest  in  such  coarse  and  liopeless 
representations  of  the  future,  and  of  the  dealings  of  God  with  liis 
creatures  when  they  have  passed  beyond  this  lile,  as  were  formerly 
accepted  without  hesitation.     The  eternity  of  punishment  is  indeed 
still  strenuously  defended ;  but  the  dogmatism  with  wliicli  it  used  to 
"be  so  confidently  expounded  has  entirely  disappeared. 

Our  limits  will  only  further  permit  us  to  advert  to  Mr.  Lecky's.- 
fourth  chapter,  on  "  Persecution."  His  concluding  chapters,  on  the 
relations  of  the  rationalistic  spirit  to  politics  and  commerce  or  indus— 
trj',  although  unfolding  some  fine  and  interesting  views,  stand  very 
much  apart  from  the  rest  of  the  work.  The  lengthened  chapter  oa 
"Persecution,"  however,  is  closely  connected  with  his  preceding- 
expositions,  and,  of  itself,  eminently  important.  It  is  diWded  into 
two  parts — the  first  entitled  the  "Antecedents  of  Persecution;"  the 
second,  the  "  History  of  Persecution."  In  the  first  part  he  traces  the 
dogmatic  basis  of  persecution  in  the  doctrine  of  exclusive  salvation. 
When  we  think  of  the  horrible  character  of  the  religious  persecutions 


380  The  Contemporary  Review. 

Ti(-liic]i  liftve  desolated  Uie  world,  we  are  apt  to  attribute  them  to  the 
chamcter  of  the  men  who  directed  and  encouraged  them.  It  was 
ciistiimary  1"ot  the  i/lu-rninists  of  Inst  century — \''oltaire  and  his  sehiifil 
— to  exphmi  tliem  iu  tiiis  manner,  by  imputing  them  tn  the  interested 
motives  of  the  clergy,  and  their  mere  desire  of  iijilioldiiig  their  power. 
But  this  is  a  very  iiitide!(jnatB  explanation.  The  higher  explnuation  is, 
iindimbtedly,  to  be  i'ound  in  the  nature  of  the  principles  profe^ed 
by  theae  raeu,  and  for  many  ages  by  the  Church  universally  :— 

"If  nnJD  hulJeve  with  an  intcna*  Jiml  iintiriny  faith  thnt  their  own  view 
(if  a  dispute<l  (piestiyu  is  ti-ue  Iwyuud  {ill  jMiswiliiUty  oi  niietake — if  Ihoy 
fuilhiT  bc'lievm  tlmt  those  U'hn  adopt  otUc'r  Wyivs  will  be  ilooiuod  by  tlw 
AhuifilLty  t^  tm  etm-uity  of  inisery,  which  with  the  siuue  moral  dosp^ratiun, 
hut  with  a  dillVrent  bulief,  (hoy  woidd  liavL'  escaptd, — -Ihfse  mun  Tiill, 
auouer  01  Intor,  ptrwcnty  to  the  extent  of  tht'ir  power.  If  yon  ejifak  to 
them  of  the  physical  and  moral  ButTering  whioh  pn;rsecntiuu  produces,  or  of 
tho  eiucej'ity  and  iinseliiah  heroism  of  its  vietinia,  thuy  will  rf]*Iy  that  Burh 
argiin»;ntfl  I'ltst  altoytthtrr  on  tht!  inadeijuauy  of  your  realization  of  ibf 
doctrinti  they  lx;lii;ve.  ^^^lflt  aiifl'criny  tliat  uifn  can  inliiiit  tun  l»  cdm- 
jBU-ahle  to  thi?  t-ternal  miserj"  of  ail  who  (■mhrace  tho  doetrum  of  the  hen'tiif  f 
Wlmt  cliiim  can  luiuiim  virtiii'B  liavo  to  our  f(jrlH.!fmuic-o,  ii'  the  Almiglitj- 
]imush)!9  Lhu  nu-ro  profe&sioii  of  error  as  a  crium  uf  thf  dflt;iM.'at  turpitud-L'  1" 

The  doctrine  of  the  sinfulness  of  error,  therefore,  or,  iu  other  words, 
the  doctrine  that  aalvatinn  is  only  to  be  found  within  a  cuinniuniiv 
or  f.huTch  ].)i'<:ifessiiig  a  deiinite  faith  iu  ceitain  l^i^■ine  mysteries,  ia, 
accoi-ding  to  Mr.  Lecky,  the  basis  and  warrant  of  persecutinn.  lie 
maintains  that  such  a  doctrliie  necessarily  springs  out  of  the  nnti.ui 
of  hereditniy  guHt  once  univeraully  diifused.  "  Tti  a  civilized  man, 
who  considers  the  question  abstractoLlly,  no  proposition  con  appear 
more  self-evident  than  that  a  man  cau  only  be  ^'uilty  of  act^s  in 
the  performance  of  which  he  has  himself  had  some  shai'e.  The 
misfortunes  of  one  man  may  fall  upon  another.,  hut  gmlt  npiiears  to 
be  entirely  personal.  Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  nothing  more 
certain  than  that  the  conception  both  of  heitiditaiy  giult  and  of  liei'e- 
ditary  inent  |jer\^ado  the  belief  and  the  institutions  of  all  uations,  anil 
have,  under  the  most  varied  circumstances,  clunj^  to  the  mind  with  n 
tenacity  which  is  even  Jiow  but  beginning  to  relax." 

Of  the  fact  there  cau  be  no  doubt,  tliat  the  Church  of  the  iburth 
centurj^,  under  the  intluence  of  Aujjustiiie,  strongly  embraced  these 
notions.  Men,  and  even  cliildren,  "  were  doomed  to  eternal  damna- 
tion, not  only  on  accoimt  uf  their  own  trausgiessions,  but  also  011 
account  of  the  transmitted  j^uilt  of  Adam.  The  ooJy  esca|>e  was 
entrance  uito  the  Church  through  tlie  rite  *>f  bajjlism,  through  whicL 
this  guilt  was  washed  away."  Tlie  whole  body  uf  the  i'athers 
are  represeutod  as  pronoimciiig  that  "  all  infants  who  died  Uubap- 
tized  were  excluded  from  heaven.  Iu  the  case  of  imbaptized  adult.$ 
a  few  esceptiona  were  admitted,  but  the  sentence  on  infants  was 


Rationalism. 


3S1 


I 
I 


I 


meiorabk."  Even  Pelagius,  "  one  of  the  most  rationalistic  mtGllects 
of  the  age,"  while  denying  the  reality  of  heretlitary  guilt,  diil  not 
ventnre  to  iteny  the  necessity  of  infant  hnptism.  The  majority  of  the 
reformiirg,  aiicorilin^r  to  our  author,  iuklIl'  httle  or  nn  advance  in  this 
tlii-ection.  He  luhuits,  indeed,  that  Calvin  was  in  some  respects  more 
favoumble  to  unliaptized  infanta  than  Luther  and  his  followers.  He 
taught  that  "the  uhildmn  uf  helievera  were  nndoubtedly  stLveil,  and  that 
the  intention  to  baptize  was  as  eftiuicions  as  the  cereniouy."  "  But 
these  views,"  he  adds,  "  arose  Bunply  from  the  rehictancenf  Cidvin  and 
his  followerg  ti)  ailmit  the  extraoi'dmary  efficacy  of  a  cei-eriiony,  and 
not  at  all  from  any  moral  repugnance  to  the  ductrme  of  tmnpmitted 
guilt.  No  school  ileclared  ninre  constantly  and  emphatically  the 
utter  depravity  of  hunum  nature,  and  the  sentence  of  perdition 
attaching  to  the  mere  possession  of  such  a  iiatm?e,  and  the  eternal 
damnation  of  the  great  majority  of  inftLnts."  Such,  in  Mr  Lecky's 
judgment,  waa  the  basis  of  the  principle  of  persecution,  whose  melan- 
choly history  hu  sketches  in  the  second  part  of  Ids  chapter  on  thia 
subject.  He  traces  the  first  workings  of  the  principle  in  the  wUctg  of 
CoostaiJtine  against  the  JeAvs,  and  the  enforced  destniction  of  the 
heathen  t^triples  in  the  country  districts,  where  the  old  religion  still 
luigered,  find  frum  -Vidiich  it  came  to  be  called  Paganism.  It  was  only 
in  the  hands  of  Angustme,  how<'ver,  Qccoivling  to  our  nutlior,  that  the 
theology  of  persecution  became  systematized.  He  draws  a  vi\id  but 
somewhat  over-colonred  portrait  of  tVii.q  great  theologian — one  of  the 
TQost  striking  passages  in  his  work.  \Ve  present  it  to  our  readers 
because  we  thiids  that,  notwithstanding  its  exaggeratioits,  it  brings  out 
fijahirea  in  Augustine's  clmrac-ter  apt  to  be  overlonked  hi  th«  blaze 
of  his  aeknow](;<lged  fame,  which  have  yet  a  not  inaigiuficant  bear- 
ing u[)on  some  of  the  principles  of  his  theolo^.     Mr  Lecky  writes : — 

"A  aonsualtBt  and  a  Miiuichiun,  a  pliil-nBDyher  and  a  tlieologiim^  a  saint  of 
the  most  t<;mler  ami  L^squisiti?  pitty,  n:id  n.  euppoTter  of  utrociouB  piirsocutinn, 
t!ii!  life  of  thia  Father  exhibits  a  stiangfl  iuBtiuico  of  the  eonihiuiition  of  tlie 
must  Jiscoiilant  agencies  to  thu  develo]:'raent  of  a  sbigle  muul,  (tnd  of  the 
ijifliience  uf  thiit  mind  over  the  most  tontliethig  mttreats.  Ncithi-r  the 
uiiliiidled  pasjiions  of  hiy  youtli,  not  thu  extmvji)!;auees  of  the  heresy  he  so 
l(ing  maintained,  could  cloud  tlie  apleiiduur  of  Iiia  iiiiLJcstic  iiit,eUe<:t,  which 
wiis  even  then  swecjiiug  flvcr  the  whole  fiekl  uf  ku&wledgi;,  and  rtcipiiring,  in 
tltu  most  unprDpitiuUs  spheres,  aew  dimionls  of  strength.  In  tlto  arms  of 
the  frail  tieiiuties  of  CadJiagc,  he  Iwirned  to  touch  ttie  ehoivia  of  piiasion 
with  consuiinnatc  akill ;  anfl  the  subtlf^ties  of  Persian  luetaphysics — t!iQ 
awfiil  probk-ma  of  the  orighi  of  «vil  and  of  thu  ■essence  of  the  soid,  whidi  he 
vainly  songlit  to  fittbom — gavu  tiijn  n  eeiieo  of  thu  tlarkness  ai-oaud  us  that 
coloured  every  jiortiou  of  his  teaching.  The  ivuight  and  com|iasa  of  hia 
genius,  his  knywledge  both  of  men  and  of  books,  a  certain  iiroma  of  sanctity 
thut  impart^fd  ;in  mexpreasible  chami  to  all  his  later  writings,  and  a  curtain 
iniinetuoajty  of  characttr  that  oveibort!  evL'ry  olwtacic,  eoon  nuide  him  the 
mAtiter  iut^llevt  of  th^  Church.     Othem  may  have  had  u  lor^Mi  .sharu  in  the 


3S2  The  Contemporary  Review. 

construction  of  lier  foTmillarice  ;  no  One,  HinciC  tli6  dajs  of  tlio  upostlif, 
infused  into  lier  h.  largor  mensiire  of  her  spirit,  llo  luiide  it  liia  mission  to 
map  tmt  hie  theologj'  with  intlcxiljlo  ^irucision,  to  dyvel<ip  its  prJDciplea  to 
thoirfali  ctmsequetiueH,  and  to  co-onliimte  its  TarJous  jisirts  into  one  aiithori- 
tativo  ami  eyjiuiietricul  whole,  IiiqiatiMit  of  douTit,  Sie  shrunk  Irimi  no  coii- 
cliisiou,  however  un.palatii.ble.  lie  seeme*!  ttj  exult  in  traiu(dtn)X  human 
infitincts  in  the  dust,  and  in  accustmniny  iiipn  to  accept  subniifsivfily  I  be  most 
rcvoltitig  tt!ni!?ls.  He  was  the  iuo.«t  staunch  and  euthusListii:  del't-ndfr  of  all 
those  doctrinL's  thiit  grow  out  of  tlio  habits  of  niind  tliat  lead  io  pttrsu'Ciitiuij. 
Ko  one  dfii!  hail  developed  so  fully  the  rnntoml  chiuwitcr  of  the  toruienta  of 
bell,  110  ono  pIsci  hiid  plunged  so  dLiejily  into  the  ejHJcuIiitioiiB  of  jireilcsti- 
nariiiuism,  very  few  haitdwtltso  (.TupfautioUy  on  th«  dam  nation  ufthi!  urihap- 
tized.  For  a  tiine  he  elinink  from  find  even  condfuiiietl  porat^cntinn,  but  Iw 
soon  pnrceived  iu  it  thfl  nt'ci-saai-y  i:uaseq\ieneG  of  his  prijiciplea  lie 
rcmnti'd  his  e<ind««ma.tion  ;  he  flung  his  wliole  geniua  into  thi'  cuubi?  ;  ho 
Tecurrtd  to  it  oj^ain  and  ji^iiiu,  and  lie  becanio  thti  fmmer  and  thii  reptc- 
sontativei  of  the  theology  of  intnli'i-nnce." — (VoL  iL^  pp.  23-3.) 

But  while  the  ideu,  of  jjersecution  was  thus  el4-il>orated  by  Augustine 
—tampered,  it  should  be  siiid,  in  Jiis  cast;,  by  pmctical  recommenda- 
tioiis  to  merty — it  \vas  not  till  the  twell'tb  aud  l'i;llowiiii|;  centuries 
that  the  idea  attained  to  its  fuU  prominence,  and  persecution  became 
the  recngiiised  ami  syatomjilic  form  of  cmelty  whicli  it  so  long  cyii- 
thmed  in  tlie  Church.  The  snmc  causes  of  csciteniept  which  carrie"! 
the  hoiTOTS  of  Tsritehcraft  to  their  full  height, — the  sjncptoms  of 
insurrectirin  in  Eumpcitn  t]iought,  and  the  -^rowiujf  jeftlou&y  of  tlic 
Chtirch, — developed  the  agency  of  persecution  to  a  fearful  extent.  Iu 
12ns,  Innocent  III.  e^tahllshed  the  Inquisition.  In  1209,  Du  Munt- 
foit  Sx'gan  the  massacre  <if  the  Albirreuses.  In  l^l.'i,  the  fciurth 
Council  of  the  Laterau  enjoined  all  nUei'3  t(i  eHtlt'ftniniite  from  their 
doniiniona  all  heretics.  The  results  are  drendful  to  contemplate.  The 
conclusion  of  Mr.  Ixeky  is  probably  nnexa^'|j;erated,  that  "  the  Churdi 
of  Rome  has  shed  more  iunoceut  blood  than  any  other  institutinn 
that  haa  ever  existed  among  mankind."  Nor,  it  is  sad  to  think,  lUd 
the  Reformation  In  thig  respect  at  first  greatly  benefit  lufiukiinl.  Tlic 
e-vHl  spirit  [lassed  over  into  tlie  I'rotestant  churclies,  not  in  all  its 
]ir!iL'ticrtl  virulence,  yet  with  nnly  slightly  abated  force,  a«  a  dogmatic 
in.stiuet.  Luther,  Calvin,  Knox,  Cranmer,  alike  a^lvocati'd  the 
lawfulness  of  persecution.  It  was  not  till  the  rise  (jf  a  higher  philo- 
snphieal  and  i-eligioua  spult,  in  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  centiuy, 
that  the  counteracting  idea  of  tolemtion  began  t-o  tnke  hold  of  the 
Eitropean  mind.  Our  nnthor  hna  dwelt  chiefly  upon  the  aen-ice.'? 
rendered  by  Montaigne,  Descartes,  and  fiayle  in  tins  respect,  and 
the-se  services  certainly  desen'e  every  recognition.  The  keen,  wide. 
lively  iiiteUect  of  Bayle  did  perhaps  more  than  any  other  to  carry 
fonvartl  the  great  movement.  A  treatLse  of  his,  compamtively  im- 
knoTni,  on  the  text,  "  Compel  them  to  enter  in,"  m-os   among  tho 


J 


Rationalism.  383 

first  clear  expositions  of  tlie  right  and  necessity — as  men  are  con- 
Btituted — of  intellectual  differences  in  religion,  and  the  consequent 
duty  of  toleration  to  these  differencea.  There  is  another  great  name, 
political  and  religions  rather  than  philosopliical,  wliich  Mr.  Lecky 
should  not  have  omitted  to  mention — that  of  the  first  "William  of 
Orange.  No  mind  had  so  clearly  seized  the  idea  of  toleration  before 
the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century,  while  no  stm^le  did  more  to  gain 
a  practical  footing  for  the  idea  than  that  which  he  headed  and 
consecrated  by  his  blood. 

Mr.  Lecky  does  full  justice  to  the  great  names  in  our  own  country 
associated  with  the  cause  of  religious  freedom,  and  does  not  here 
omit  the  services  of  the  liberal  theologians  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury. The  succession  of  rational  divines  in  the  Church  of  England, 
which  reckons  among  its  numbers,  besides  Hooker,  Chillingworth,  and 
Hales,  already  mentioned,  Jer.  Taylor,  in  liis  earlier  and  better  years, 
Milton,  the  Cambrit^e  Platonists,  and  their  successors,  the  divines 
of  the  Revolution,  have  as  yet  received  but  scanty  justice  for  their 
labours  in  behalf  of  the  highest  religious  thought.  They  have  been 
overshadowed  by  the  higher  dogmatic  fame  of  the  Anglo-Catholic  and 
Puritan  theologians  of  the  same  century.  Tlie  study  of  their  works, 
however,  will  amply  show  that  the  stream  of  religious  thought  which 
is  still  flowing  onwards,  with  gathering  volume  and  vitality,  is 
that  which  they  commenced  and  carried  forward  amidst  the  extreme 
currents  of  opposing  dogmatism,  which  alike  sought  to  overpower 
them.  These  men  were  all  more  or  less  Eationalists  in  the  right 
and  comprehensive  meanuig  of  tlie  word ;  men,  that  is  to  say,  who 
saw,  long  before  the  world  was  prepared  to  see  it,  that  theology  must 
\Tndicate  its  place  among  other  sciences,  and  at  their  head,  not  by 
any  mere  appeal  to  autliority,  however  venerable,  but  by  the  ever 
renewed  and  more  enlightened  comprehension  of  the  great  truths  of 
Bevelation. 

But  we  carmot  pursue  this  interesting  subject  further  at  present, 
nor  can  we  dwell  longer  on  Mr.  Lecky's  volumes.  "We  have  confined 
ourselves  mainly,  in  the  latter  part  of  our  paper,  to  an  exposition  of 
his  course  of  thought,  not  that  we  entirely  agree  with  his  representa- 
tions, any  more  than  with  his  original  definition  of  nationalism,  but 
because  we  wished  in  some  degree  to  "  review "  his  work,  and  not 
merely  make  it  a  text  for  our  own  thoughts.  AVe  have  said 
enough  to  show  that  genuine  Christianity,  and  a  genuuie  Christian 
theolc^,  has  nothing  to  fear  from  "  the  rise  and  influence  of  the  spirit 
of  Rationalism."  Forms  of  belief  which  may  no  longer  seem 
exerting  a  living  influence  over  cultivated  thouglit,  should  they 
even  pass  away,  would  leave  Christianity  poweri'ul  as  ever.  It 
is  the  very  business  of  theologj'  to  sift  them,  and  all  theolc^ical 


384  The  Contemporary  Review. 

conceptions,  anew  in  the  light  of  Divine  Revelation.  Whatever  is 
true  in  any  of  them  will  come  forth  from  the  trial  purified  and 
exalted — instinct  with  a  more  vigorous  life  than  ever  for  the  con- 
viction of  human  sin,  and  of  Divine  righteousness  and  judgment 
There  never  was  a  more  xmsound  fear  than  the  fear  that  Christi- 
anity will  not  stand  every  trial  of  tlie  reason.  The  "  wood,  hay, 
and  stubble"  may  indeed  be  consumed  in  the  fire  of  this  trial,  but 
the  "  only  foundation  "  will  stand  all  the  more  secure  after  the  fire  of 
purification  has  passed  over  it.  And  indeed,  may  it  not  be  said 
that  the  great  truths  of  Christianity — the  love  of  God  our  Father, 
the  sacrifice  of  Christ  our  Saviour,  and  the  ministering  grace  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  our  Sanctifier — shine  more  luminously  in  the  liigher 
iiiteUigence,  and  exert  a  more  real  influence  over  the  varied  acti^-ities 
of  the  holier  culture,  in  our  generation  tlian  in  many  previous 
generations  ?  Let  it  be  that  there  is  a  wide  spliere  of  modem 
philosophical  thought  which  is  working  outside  of  Christianity, 
and  whose  radical  principles  seem  in  conflict  mth  the  great  con- 
ceptions of  Divine  Personality,  Mediation,  and  Influence,  no  less 
than  with  the  essentially  Christian  conception  of  the  Divine  dignity 
of  man,  on  which  all  spiritual  philosophy  rests, — let  this  be,  Chris- 
tianity has  no  need  to  fear,  even  in  the  face  of  such  an  enemy. 
For  Positivism,  temporarily  powerful  as  it  is,  is  only  a  partial  growth 
of  i-eason  ;  a  growth  which  has  shot  up  into  extraordinary  vigour  from 
the  previous  depression  and  neglect  of  the  side  of  thought  in  which 
it  originates,  but  which  is  destined  to  the  extravagance  and  ultimate 
decay  of  all  partial  gro'wths.  Christianity  transcends  all  such  partial 
philosophies,  both  by  the  larger  and  more  enlightened  conception  of 
reason  which  it  holds  forth  to  view,  and  by  the  more  living  Divine 
activity  for  liuman  good  wliich  it  carries  in  its  bosom.  One  tiling 
alone  it  has  to  fear,  that  is,  the  cowanlice  which  shrinks  from  the 
freest  light  of  inquiiy,  or  cHngs,  in  the  hour  of  danger,  to  proj>s  of 
sacerdotal  or  dogmatical  tradition,  which  the  advancing  tide  of 
thought  may  be  destined  to  sweep  away. 

John  Tdlloch. 


MODERN  PORTRAIT  PAINTING. 


Liit  ami    Timet  n/  Sir  Jmh  ua  Ei^/tnibit  •   trilh  SofircM  of  ihi  me  ej  AEr 

CtmttmjioTarlti.     Co-Dimeocnl  hj  Cbarle»  SimEni  LiHLie,  &.A. ; 

DO-ntlnusd.    uul    (allecUd    bj   Ton  Tavloix,   M.A.  Twu   Vulumei. 
LtPiidivii :  MuTTHj. 

ANEW  Lil'e  uf  lieyiiolils,  tlio  gi'uat  En^'lish  portrait  pniuter,  can 

PhartUy  tiill  to  rtwaken  more  than  cornmon  iiiterest  at  the  present 
time,  when  gooil  portraiture  ia  at  onoe  very  rare  and  very  highly 
prizeifL  It  is  not,  however,  our  purpose  in  the  present  article  to 
ci'iticise  tfie  work  nf  Measr.''.  Leslie  and  Tuiii  Taylor,  which  lisis  now 
been  for  several  months  hefore  the  public — we  only  venture  to  give 
expression  to  some  (hoiighta  suggested  Ly  the  siihject,  Ijeaimg  upon 
thti  art  of  portraiture  in  Euglimd  in  the  present  diiy. 

Iteyuolds  is  rightly  looked  upon  as  the  most  uoniplete  and  btilliant 
of  our  native  EngUsh  portrait  painters.  By  the  force  of  his  genius  he 
nut  only  struck  out  a  new  path  for  hiniself  in  the  country  whei-e  Uol- 
■  bein,  Antonio  More,  Vandyke,  and  Lely  had  lived  hefore  him,  and  had 
left  BO  many  of  their  master-works;  but  he  made  liiiuself  their  com- 
peer, anil  nas  able  fearlessly  to  place  ids  picturea  in  competition  with 
the  beat  examples  of  Venetian  and  Eleniish  art^  and  to  extort  from 
adverse  critici-?m  the  adnii&sion  that,  whatever  bis  technical  defici- 
encies might  be,  they  ■wei'y  inoi'e  than  compensated  by  the  mani- 
festation of  ft  grace  and  purity  that  no  portrait  painter  had  exhibited 
befure  him. 

The  English  school  still  looks  to  Keynolds  as  its.  founder,  and  the 
exhibition  of  his  pictures  marks  the  time  when  art  ceased  to  be  an 
exotic  pknt  in  England.    The  school  be  founded  was  naturally  based 


386 


Tfu  Co7i(einporary  Review. 


upon  liis  piactire  rather  than  upon  his  teaching ;  and  few  stuJen 
prolnably  \m(i  nuich  heed  to  Itia  exhortations,  or  attempteil  to  walk 
the  footsteps  of  Michael  Aiiijelo.  The  practice  of  (jainsburnugh  a!si 
helptd  to  direct  the  atteiitiuu  yjl  the  rising  suUool  to  portmititre;  f( 
his  extiuisito  feeling  for  colour.  Lis  taste  and  refinement,  ■were  out; 
fall}'  hrimyht  out  in  bis  portraits,  which  rivalled,  in  some  I'espects,  the 
mnsteiiijeces  of  liejnolds,  _Tiie  infiueuce  uf  these  two  painters  prfl-^j 
dominated  for  many  j-eara  over  tUat  of  Hogarth  and  Wilson,  thei]^H 
great,  co litem poraries  in  figui-e  paiiitiiij^  and  landscape;  and  to  this^^ 
day  portraiture  continues  to  bo.  in  spite  of  its  <lecaiknce,  the  muat^i 
popular  brand]  of  art  in  Enc;land.  ^| 

I'nit.rait  painting  hua  ahvaya  been,  and,  a.g  long  as  the  itatinual^^ 
character  remaiu3  the  same,  will  tontimie  to  be,  a  necessity  iti  Eny;hind. 
When  we  !md  no  native  artists,  we  incited  the  most  iicconspIieheJ 
painters  on  the  Continent  to  take  up  their  abode  with  us;  and  oi 
country  houses  contain  a  rich  collection  of  portmits  of  Eiiglishraeu  b 
those  Dutch  and  Flemish  masters  who  were  domiciled  amongst  ua, 
wen  as  of  the  rarctr   portraits  of  jirincea  and  burg-bers  by  Titian,' 
VelasqueZj   IleiuhrLindt,   and  Vauderhuylst,  wliich   it   hits  been  the 
object  of  so  many  great  proprietora  to  possess. 

In  the  display  of  miniatures   at   South   Kensington,  comprising 
specimeua  of  the  art;  as  it  has  existed  amimyst  us  for  more  than  thrcti 
centimes,  and  reHecttn<,',  as  it  doea,  the  kindly  aft'etitions,  or  tJ 
innocent  vauitVj  of  ^-enerLitions  passed  away,  ive  have  another  prool 
if  eWdeuee  were  wanting,  of  tlm  absolute  craving  that  exists  in  tli 
country  for  portraiture  of  some  kind, — good  if  it  can  he  liad^  had 
rather  than  none  at  all.     We  cannot  live  without  it.     The  gi'andest 
])ortmits  in  existence  were  iiudoubtcdly  painted  on  the  L'uutinent,  by 
the  great  Italiim  and  Spanish  artists :- — kings  and  princea,  kniglits  and 
ladiiis  sat  for  tbem;  but  England  is  not  the  less  the  ti'ue  hcmie  of 
portrait  painting.    We  love  to  look  at  the  |»ortraits  of  our  distiiiguished 
and  historical  Englishmen,  eveu  more  than  to  read  about  them ;  more 
than  this,  we  must  have  the  likenesses  of  our  fathers  and  mothers  and, 
sisters,  ami  we  arc  not  spaiing  of  eucom^agemeiit  and  money  to  tb 
painter  whose  canvas  shall  at  once  speak  to  our  atrections.     Portrait 
painters  who  woidd  have  starved  on  the  Continent  have  attaiiii 
jioaitton  and  fortiine  in  England. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  all  the  encouragement  given  amongst  ug  to  tl 
Ijranch  of  ait,  portrait  jiainting  has  gmdually  but  certainly  dftclin' 
since  the  days  of  UeynolJs  and  Ciainabnrot^h,    These  masters,  indeedj 
can  hardly  lie  <.tlaime<.!   as   modern   painters.     i;e}'nolds  especially, 
though  in  eveiy  sense  an  original  artist,  was  diiiwn  by  tlic  force 
sympathy  into  the  company  of  the  old  mastei-a.     If  we  eould  see 
"  JUiB.  Siddons  "  or  Ids  "  Duchesa  of  Devonshire  "  in  one  of  oup  Eoyi 


led 

)ur^^ 

lie^j 

i-ea       [ 
thflH 

iiiS 


■e       I 


Modern  Portrait  Painting.  387 

Academy  exhibitions,  we  sliould  at  once  feel  how  little  our  portrait 
painters  have  in  common  with  him,  or  he  with  tliem ;  yet  so  great 
was  the  influence  of  his  example  and  success,  that  his  manner  was 
adopted  by  his  immediate  followers,  and  the  portraits  by  Komney, 
Hoppner,  Opie,  Jackson,  and  Ilaebum  derive  their  excellences,  and  also 
their  defects,  from  a  reverential  following  of  his  practice.  There  was 
a  certain  breadth  and  force  in  their  works,  and  especially  a  Imninous 
flesh  painting,  tlie  result  perhaps  of  greater  technical  knowledge, 
whicb  is  conspicuously  absent  in  the  pictures  of  Lawrence  and  his 
successors  down  to  tlie  present  time. 

The  advent  of  Lawrence  was  unfortunate  for  the  cause  of  British 
art,  and  particularly  damaging  to  portrait  painting.  A  highly  gifted 
and  accomplished  artist,  he  became  the  slave  of  fashionable  caprice 
and  vanity.  The  proof  of  liis  powers  may  Ije  seen  in  such  works  as 
"  Pius  VII."  and  "  Cardinal  Gonsalvi,"  which  in  the  finer  elements  of 
portraiture  have  never  been  equalled  since ;  but  generally  speaking, 
his  portraits,  when  compared  with  those  of  Eeynolds,  are  but  hollow 
masks  of  faces.  His  studio  became  a  vast  manufactory,  of  which'be 
was  not  competent  to  assume  the  direction ;  that  is,  he  had  not  the 
power,  which  Reynolds  possessed,  of  making  tlie  work  of  his  assistants 
his  own  by  the  force  of  a  vigorous  understanding  and  a  few  hours  of 
well-directed  labour.  His  brilliant  capacity  was  impaired  by  the 
empty  idolatry  of  the  fashionable  world  which  thronged  to  bis 
painting-room ;  he  vitiated  the  taste  that  Reynolds  had  created,  and 
he  founded  the  worst  school  of  painting  we  have  yet  seen  in  England, 
in  which  affectation  and  emptiness  reigned  supreme,  and  which  was 
happily  destined  to  be  destroyed  by  the  first  tlioughtful  student  who 
should  denounce  its  meretricious  conventionalisms,  and  proclaim  the 
study  of  Nature  as  the  only  safe  ground  of  practice. 

The  state  of  portrait  painting  is,  it  must  be  admitted,  better  than 
it  was  forty  years  ago.  The  imitators  of  Lawrence  have  disappeared. 
Earnest  students,  like  Watts  and  Hoxall,  have  done  much  to  restore  and 
elevate  the  practice  of  this  diflBcult  branch  of  art :  it  is  now  apparently 
advancing  with  the  general  progress  of  the  school ;  and  while  fully 
admitting,  upon  the  whole,  the  fairness  of  tlie  criticism  applied  to  tlie 
portraits  in  every  succeeding  exhibition,  we  shall  probably  find  that, 
though  immeasurably  inferior  to  those  produced  by  Titian,  Vandyke, 
and  Rembrandt,  they  hold  their  ground  as  well,  wlien  compared  with 
these  masters,  as  the  works  of  our  figure  and  landscape  painters  do 
when  they  are  put  in  comparison  with  the  masterpieces  of  Paul  Vero- 
nese and  Nicholas  Poussiu.  The  production  of  a  grand  portrait  is 
one  of  the  highest  efforts  of  the  human  mind.  Among  all  the  painters 
who  have  ever  lived,  only  the  greatest  have  succeeded  in  fixing  upon 
canvas  the  impress  of  the  soul,  as  well  as  the  features  of  the  indivi- 


38S 


The  Contemporary  Revkiu, 


iliml  man  or  woman:  (inil  these  are  juat  the  works  that  ore  priceless, 
that  pos3ea8  an  undying  interest  for  the  lenmed  and  iialearned  of 
ench  siicceijiliiit;  generiitinn,  far  heyoml  tliat  created  by  all  the  Mailjr- 
dijins  and  Asauinptions  thiit  have  ever  been  painted. 

Tliewi  has  been  veiy  little  iutellij^feut  criticism  written  upon  the 
portraiture  of  the  present  dny :  that  which  passes  for  it  in  the  columna 
of  the  daily  press  is,  for  the  most  part,  but  a  mere  sweeping  denuncia- 
tion of  all  modem  portraits  alike.  As  an  example  of  the  penny-a-lino-j 
stj'Ie  that  passes  for  criticism,  we  may  quote  from  a  morning  journal,' 
wltich  enjoys  the  repulatiun  of  behig  w<;ll-iuformed  npon  all  siibjeeta 
connected  with  Art,  a  sentence  at  the  close  of  two  columns  devotyd- 
to  a  notice  of  the  last  exliilution  in  Trafalgar  Square,  in  which  the 
portiaits  ai-e  thus  introi.lueed  and  dismissed: — "T)ie  poill-aita  are 
more  obtrnsire  than  ever;  they  scowl  and  grin  and  leer  Jjoni  every 
corner."  We  need  not  stop  to  itjriuirij  whether  a  sentence  like  this, 
would  bo  toleratcfl  ag  criticism  in  any  continental  journid  ;  rather  1 
us  consider  the  nasumptions  of  better  informed  critics,  whose  dicta 
are  received  by  a  public  too  careless  to  question  their  accuracy,  and 
adopted  at  once  as  self-evident  truths. 

The  most  plausible  suj^'gestinn  which  has  been  offered  to  account  for 
the  inferiority  of  modern  portraiture  has  been  set  forth  by  the  accom- 
plished critic  of  the  Timet,  ant\  louilly  eclioed  by  many  of  those  w 
deplore  the  present  condition  of  this  branch  of  art. 

It  is  asserted  that  portrait  painting;  should  not  be  given  over  to 
special  cla53  of  painters,  but  that  it  should  rather  he  the  occasion 
practice  of  serious  subject  painters,  who  have  studied  the  art  of 
painthig  in  its  widest  scope,  l^y  painters  of  tliis  order,  it  is  urgwl, 
jjortraita  would  !«  painted  with  greater  knowledge  and  with  higher 
aim;  the  .most  famous,  the  noldest,  and  the  most  beaulilul  models 
only  would  be  repres.ented  on  canvas,  and  photography  nitght  lie  left^ 
to  reproduce  the  countenances  of  the  mighty  commonplace  world  wl 
invnile  nud  disturb  the  serenity  df  our  exhibitions. 

This  suggestion,  which  at  first  recommends  itself  as  pointi: 
directly  to  the  cause  of  our  weakness,  and  to  the  remedy  which  nia; 
remove  it,  wil!  he  found,  on  veiy  slight  ex  n  mi  nation,  to  be  based  on 
fallacy;  while  any  attempt  to  act  upon  it  woidd  pi-ove  to  be  utterly' 
impracticable.  Even  admitting  lor  a  moment  that  commonplnce 
ladies  and  gentlemen  would  be  content  to  leave  statesmen  and 
soldiers  and  Court  beauties  in  the  hands  of  one  or  two  liistyrical 
painters,  remaining  satisfied  themselves  ■with  the  tender  mercies  of 
photography,  it  is  not  true,  as  a  rule,  that  the  best  portraits  have  been 
the  excfiptioufil  productions  of  historical  painters,  and  not  the  evi 
day  work  of  painters  who  have  made  portraiture  tlie  apecial  brau' 
of  their  practice,    The  claims,  indeed,  of  Da  Vinci,  Raphael,  and  Tii 


'J 

'4 


Modem  Portrait  Pahtling. 


3S9 


to  the  broadest  dominioii  in.  the  realm  of  art,  mil  hardly  be  disputed, 
aud  their  poi-tmita,  no  less  Uiai:  their  historical  compositions,  btar 
,ess  tu  the  regal  chamcter  of  theii-  intellecib;  but  we  cannot  for^'i.'t 

;t   Holbein,   Velasquez,  Vimdykei,  iind    Ite3'no]d3,   were   specially 

portroit  painters,  and  only  occasionally  practiced  hiatorical  jiainting, 

■  and  that  tlieir  poitraits  are  distini^fiiisbed  by  the  presence  of  all  those 

liiyh  qualities  of  art,  the  absence  of  wliich  in  modern  portraits  wu 

lightly  ileplore, 

The  dt'^u'ueracy  of  our  portrait  painters  could  only  be  fairly  aacribL^il 
to  the  speettd  chamcter  of  tlieir  occnpatioc.  if  we  found  that  the 
,  jiraetice  of  tlieir  contemporaries,  who  are  engaged  in  painting  subjeet 
picture-f  and  damustiu  pieces,  enabled  th^em  to  compete  M'itli,  and 
occasiunally  to  surpass,  tht*  productions  which  they  also  are  pirjbably 
iucliued  to  hold  in  light  esteem.  But  do  we  find  that  the  few  por- 
traits painted  by  our  most  distinguished  modem  subject  painters  are 
ID  advance  of  the  best  of  those  displayed  in  our  annual  exliibilions  i 
iJecause,  ill  order  to  estimate  fairly  tlie  modem  practice,  by  which 
ii  paiutinrr  is  relegated  to  a  special  class  of  artists,  we  must 

aire  what  sort  of  portraits  our  luodern  subject  painters  are  capable 
pf  pniducill^f. 

With  Ihe  single  exce]ition  of  G.  F.  Watts,  whose  admirably  drawn 
heads  are  apparently  so  inmriy  experiments  in  quest  of  th&  teebuieal 
excellencos  of  the  Veuetiiiu  I'aiuters,  we  should  have  little  hesitation 
in  atiiruiinj;  that  not  a  sinyle  living  s-ubject  painter  has  produced  a 
portrait  in  all  resjnects  as  good  as  those  which  have  been  annually 
exhibiteiil  by  the  best  of  our  port.rait  piunters — by  Watson  Gordon, 
l^jsut,  or  iSoxall.  It  is  imneces5ary  herti  to  rtifyr  pointedly  to  the 
PpDares  of  some  of  onr  most  justly  esteemed  jiaiuters  in  tbeir  occa- 
sional tiials  at  portraiture  ;  but  the  essays  in  this  direction  of  tbrse 
painters  occur  to  us  at  uncc  in  illustration  of  our  position — namely, 
those  of  Laudseer,  Wilkie,  and  Ilaydon.  Laudscer  ia  only  wcfik  when 
he  is  painting  pictures  liUe  that  of  the  EUcsmcre  family  in  "The 
lletuni  from  Hawking,"  and  those  royal  portrait  sidijects,  painted  by 
prtratimtid,  which  bear  on  the  face  of  them  manifest  signs  of  weariness  ; 
Wilkie  notably  failed  when  he  turned  from  the  domestic  life  of  the 
Scotch  peasantry,  with  which  he  fidly  sympathized,  to  paint  life-si?!ed 
porh-aits  of  William  IV.  and  O'Conuell ;  aud  Haydon  proved  the  shal- 
lowness of  his  cluiuis  to  icink  witli  the  Venetians,  in  the  first  place 
by  his  aH'k'cted  contempt  for  portrait  painting,  and  ufterTS'ardsi  by  Ids 
ej^gioua  failing  to  prudmce  a  portrait  above  the  level  of  sign-paiutiug. 

The  superiority  of  the  ])ortrail  painter  iu  the  branch  of  art  which 
he  foUowa  is  naturally  to  be  expected  \  if  he  ia  a  true  painter,  he  has 
a  special  inrliWdnaliziny  power  wliich  ftta  him  for  his  work.  This  is 
a  gift  or  faculty  which  he  possesses  in  connuon  with  many  men  who 


3  go 


^he  Contemporary  Review. 


are  not  artists  by  professiou — caricaturists,  profilists,  6ud  others,  *li& 
are  in  the  Iialnt  <jf  taking  notes  of  human  coimtenntices :  n  facitUy 
ivhich,  though  absoliitelj-  essential  to  a  suticessfiO  prosecution  of  their 
ljrofes3i*ju,  is  certainly  not  confined  to  portru.it  pftintera  aitiong  artists ; 
it  Tiiust  have  been  poss^saeil,  in  the  moat  eminent  cleffree,  by  many  of 
tUose  painters  wliose  range  has  been  the  widest ;  but  looking  to  tlie  ^j 
totally  ditferent  circumstftnc^s  and  teaching  o!"  mndem  schools.  the^H 
probability  is  tbut  it  will  be  most  highly  cultivated  by  those  students  ^i 
in  whom  it  is  most  strongly  developed ;  and  we  find  that  in  our  own 
school,  dating  from  the  time  of  Reynolds  to  the  present  day,  the] 
painters  who  have  succeeded  in  portraiture  are  those  who  have  been^ 
impelled  to  make  it  a  special  branch  of  study. 

Painting  is  probably  the  moat  difficult  and  varied  of  all  the  artaj 
and  in  its  completenesa  can  only  be  conipiiBsed  by  intellect  and  skill 
of  the  highest  urdcr.    That  Titian,  lEapIiael,  and  Keinbrandt  painted  prjr-  ^i 
traits  tliat  are  rightly  reckoned  among  the  priceless  ti-easures  of  Eui'opiv^H 
is  a  pixjol"  (if  their  trausceudeut  genius ;  but  it  is  only  the  rounded  ^\ 
intellect  and  i-imjiimmiate  skill  uf  a  Titian  that  can  grapple  with  all 
the  infinite  difficidties  of  painting ;  and  ordinary  capacities  must  be 
content  to  achieve  excellence  in  some  speciid  branch  of  it. — figure 
painting,  landscape,  or  portraiture.    A  very  few  names  would  exhaust 
the  catalogue  of  tliose  who,  in  tlie  intervals  of  what  is  wi-ongly  callee 
more  important  wurk,  could  produce  a  portrait,  the  like  of  which  nol 
modern  liand  cilu  approach.      With  a  grand  subject  before  him,  an* 
with  a  power  over  the  mechanical  ditticultiea  of  his  art  which  nc 
modern  ])ainter  possesses,  the  grcjit  Venetian,  heir  to  al!  the  knowledj 
btHjueathed  in  the  works  of  hia  preilecessors,  was  able  to  paint  a  por- 
trait indeed  ;  but  we  must  not  therefore  infer  that  a  subject  painter  uf 
our  duys  shall  be  competent  to  paint  a  better  head  tlitin  the  man  who 
has  devoted  all  his  days  to  p'jrtrait  painting.     Both  are  men  of  linjited 
powers,  and  both  have  special  aims;  for  even  our  figure  painters  all 
nm  in  Httk  separate  ruts,  out  of  which  they  seldom  step  witliout 
coming  to  a  fall, 

Tliere  are  one  or  two  consideration g  which  may  perhaps  help  iis  to 
accomit  in  some  measure  for  the  aduiitted  inferiority  of  our  porlrait^J 
painters.  One  catise  of  wfuknesa  is  the  prevailing  tone  of  modcm^B 
society,  M'hich  is  totally  opposed  to  the  display  of  marked  character 
in  eveiy  shape.  The  statesmen,  soldiers,  and  beautiful  women,  fix>m 
whom  Heyuolds  painted  some  of  his  noblest  pictures,  would  pixibably 
now  be  esteemed  vidgar,  loud,  and  improper.  It  has  been  said  that 
we  are  now,  more  thou  at  any  other  period  of  our  bigtoiy,  tied  down  by 
conventionalisms  to  a  dead  level  of  outwanl  expression.  That  we  all 
seem  tending  towards  a  family  likeness,  may  readily  he  seen  by  ex-j 
amiuicg  the  conteuta  of  a  pliototir.ipMc  album,  wherein  we  find 


Modern  Portrait  Painting. 


39* 


collection  nf  similjirly  smipering  portraits,  among  whieli  it  is  difficult 
to  distinj^aiish  between  n  king  and  a  conjurer,  or  between  a  duchess 
and  her  cliddron's  nurse.  Our  portmit  painters  reHect  pretty  accu- 
mttly  the  wishes  of  their  sitters,  who  would  slmdder  if  they  were 
represented  otherwiee  than  aa  acting  their  parts  properly,  aceorLling 
to  the  con venti final  ideas  attached  tti  tliem.  A  portrait  painter  who 
■would  paint  men,  and  especially  women,  lionestly^  as  Holbein  did, 
•would  be  likely  enougli  to  starve.  Lines  must  be  aoi'tened,  expression 
Biust  be  modified,  action  mu3t  l>e  decorous,  colours  must  Ije  Rubdued, 
or  the  prevailin^f  taste  of  the  tiishionable  world  would  be  ofl'ended,  and 
patronage  withdrawn.     Those  who  have  cultivated  an  acituaiutance 

ith  the  principle  and  practice  of  tlie  old  portmit  painters,  protest 
lij^htly  ayniust  tlie  modem  violation  ol'  them — against  that  aubser- 
ivieucy  to  the  fashionable  afl'ectntious  of  tlie  day  which  in  the  last 
geueration  viti:ited  tlie  sjilendid  talent  of  T^wtence,  and  now-a-daya 
Spoll»  many  a  pnnnisiiig  painter.  All  artist  iif  transcendent  ability 
imiyht  indeed  retlaiiu  the  school;  but  short  of  this  there  .>iieems  little 
hoiw  of  any  j^reat  jid\'ance  at  pi^'esont :  we  can  but  point  out  and. 
g,pp!aud  honest  t-ffort  wherever  we  find  It,  and  continue  to  piotest 
ft<;ainst  atfectKtiou  and  weakness, 

Another  and  a  very  importnnt  element  of  the  weiikui'ss  of  modem 
painters  is  thut  Jfick  of  technical  knowledge  which  iiidt-ed  is  common 
w  all  modent  suhouls.  A  Venetian  pictni-e  was  not  only  an  expivssion 
Df  great  mental  p(»wer,  but  the  triunipliant  chymiciJ  rt^sult  of  a 
thurLntghly  uiiderst'iod  process.  We  do  not  know  bow  Titian  and 
Bellini  painted,  Imt  we  know  that  in  all  the  aeres  of  canvas  coveted 
n  the  ninGt<^(!Uth  century',  not  a  .sintjle  square  inch  could  be  found 
hat  in  the  slij^htest  de-p-ee  resembles  their  work  in  quality.  All  true 
Kiinters  of  later  times  have  sought  and  sighed  for  the  attfiiument  r-f  a 
imilar  result.  Iiuhens,  wliu  was  one  of  the  most  brilliant  paintc-is 
D  the  world,  was  fascinated  by  the  perfection  of  Venetian  ctiluuring, 
md  it  was  during  his  Italian  travel,  and  wheu  be  was  under  ttie  iuHu- 
jDce  of  the  impression  made  upon  ]um  by  the  great  works  amund 
liin,  that  lits  (iuest  portraits  were  painted;  nnd  they  were  painted 
irilh  an  evident  intention  to  iufunn  hiiusolf  of  the  process  coiumonly 
iractised  by  tlie  Itjiliana  of  the  previous  century.  lEeynoMs  sacri- 
ced,  or  at  least  endangered,  his  future  reputation  by  his  continual 
Kjierinients  to  attain  tlie  technical  knowledge  of  ]iaintiug  which  was 
osaesscd  by  tlie  Italians,  and  the  mcuvery  of  which  be  J'elt  to  Ije  of 
Bch  great  iaiportance.  Earnest  painters  of  our  own  day,  sick  of  and 
isguated  with  the  leathery  llesh-paiuting  of  the  last  generation,  axe 
Ver  intent  upon  the  acquisition  of  that  technical  knowledge  which 
one  can  euable  them  to  determine  the  value  of  gixjunds,  the  qualities 

colours,  and  the  action  of  oils  and  varnishes  upon  the  siirfaces  on 


392  The  Contemporary  Review. 

which  they  paint.  It  \a  difficult  to  over-estimate  the  consequenoe  <^ 
accurate  knowledge  on  these  points ;  but  if  we  could  place  a  Lawrence 
in  juxtaposition  with  a  Titian,  we  should  immediately  appreciate  tiie 
immense  importance  of  a  right  process  of  work,  and  the  apparent 
inability  of  all  modem  painters  to  acquire  the  skill  which  the  Vene- 
tians possessed,  and  which  in  their  hands  led  to  most  harmonious  and 
agreeable  residts. 

Other  drawbacks  of  a  less  appreciable  kind  are  undoubtedly 
damaging  to  the  art  of  portrait  painting  as  at  present  practised  in 
England.  Among  these  may  he  mentioned  the  scale  of  prices  and 
sizes.  Certain  conventional  and  often  inconvenient  sizes  were  settled 
by  LawTence,  and  his  prices  were  fixed  accor<ling  to  the  size  of  ttie 
canvas,  and  without  any  reference  to  the  merit  of  the  work.  This 
rule  obtains  to  the  preseut  day,  and  the  sooner  it  is  abolished  the 
better  it  will  be  for  artists  and  sitters  alike.  If  a  portrait  be  a  good 
portrait,  it  is  not  made  one  whit  more  valuable  by  being  painted  on 
a  bishop's  half-length  instead  of  on  an  ordinary  half-length  canvas : 
it  may  be  advisable  to  make  the  picture  larger  or  smaller,  but  tJie 
question  of  a  few  inches  on  one  side  or  the  other  should  have  nothing 
to  do  with  price.  In  design  or  execution,  a  small  whole-length  ia 
equal  to  the  same  picture  set  fortli  on  a  larger  canvas,  and  there  is 
only  a  small  appreciable  difference  of  labour;  yet  by  the  pxesent 
system  of  prices  adopted  by  portrait  painters,  there  is  a  natural  ten- 
dency to  paint  on  large  and  inconvenient  sized  canvases,  for  the  sole 
reason  of  claiming  a  higher  price  for  the  work.  The  old  masters 
rarely  had  any  canvas  to  let,  and  their  portraits  can  generally  be  dis- 
played in  the  rooms  of  an  ordinary  English  mansion.  No  one  would 
dream  tliat  they  would  be  more  valuable  for  being  so  laige  that  they 
could  only  be  properly  hung  up  in  a  town-hall. 

It  IS,  however,  more  easy  to  point  out  deficiencies  which  are  uni- 
versallv  admitted,  and  to  object  to  the  criticism  which  the  deficiencies 
call  fuitli,  than  to  indicate  the  direction  from  which  we  may  derive  hope 
of  any  f^reat  improvement  in  the  school ;  but  it  ia  impossible  to  over- 
look tlie  influence  wliich,  for  good  or  e^il,  is  now  being  exercised,  and 
probably  will  be  exercised  through  all  future  time,  by  the  manellous 
discovery  of  photography,  and  its  api)lication  to  the  ends  of  painting. 
It  is  at  least  a  question  whether  what  is  called  pre-Rajihaelitism  in 
England  is  not  due  to  tins  discover^',  actiug  upon  a  few  minds  uncou- 
scious;lv  impressed  by  the  clear  manifestations  of  inqwrtant  truths 
hitherto  smothered  imder  broad  conventionalisms.  The  geologj-  of 
landscape,  for  instance,  was  but  little  appreciated  by  painters,  before 
they  were  taught  by  photography  that  the  stratification  of  a  rock 
cannot  be  expressed  by  a  few  vague  and  ignorant  touches.  No 
painter  ever  taught  \is  so  much  about  the  Alps  as  the  photographs  of 


1 

\ 


Modem  Portrait  Painting.  393 

Bissot  or  tlie  small  stereoscopic  slides  with  ■which  we  are  so  familiar. 
Let  us  readily  grant  that  photography  is  not  a  fine  art  itself,  neither 
can  it  possibly  take  the  place  of  any  intellectual  work ;  that  it  can 
exercise  no  power  of  selection,  modify  no  expression,  raise  no  emo- 
tion, evoke  no  sympathy ;  but  although  it  can  never  raise  us  to  tlie 
contemplation  of  any  spiritual  truth,  it  reproduces  accurately  the 
aspect  of  the  material  universe.  Its  effect  upon  the  art  of  our  gene- 
ration has  been  great,  not  perhaps  altogether  good.  So  far,  it  lias 
certainly  given  an  undue  impulse  to  the  merely  imitative  faculty, 
while  the  noblest  of  human  faculties,  the  imagination,  has  been  in 
abeyance ;  but  we  cannot  but  think  that  its  influence  will  tend  in  the 
long  run  to  strengthen  the  latter,  by  endowing  it  with  a  more  accu- 
rate and  enlai^ed  experience.  We  may  at  least  be  grateful  that  it 
has  displaced  a  great  deal  of  bad  art.  A  photograph  of  the  Coliseum 
or  of  Notre  Dame  is  better  worth  having  than  the  incorrect  litho- 
graphs that  used  to  stand  for  them ;  and  the  sun  gives  us  a  better 
idea  of  Vesuvius  than  the  execrable  ffuacke  drawings  that  were  for- 
merly exposed  in  the  Neapolitan  print-shops.  And  although  we  may 
regret  the  temporary  eclipse,  for  such  we  trust  it  is,  of  miniature 
painting,  we  have  little  reason  to  deplore  the  annihilation  of  that 
cheap  art  of  portraiture  to  which  Mrs.  Lirriper  was  sacrificed,  and  to 
the  professors  of  which,  as  she  says,  "you  paid  your  three  guineas, 
and  took  your  chance  as  to  whether  you  came  out  yourself  or  some- 
body else." 

But  while  the  influence  of  photography  may  be  clearly  traced  in  the 
more  careful  study  of  form  and  detail  which  distinguishes  our  living 
subject  painters  from  their  immediate  predecessors,  our  portrait 
painters  have  refused  to  profit  by  a  discovery  which  might  be  to 
them  an  invaluable  handmaid,  while  it  never  could  become  a  suc- 
cessful rival. 

Want  of  strong  individuality  is  the  characteristic  of  nearly  all 
modem  portraiture, — not  only  in  the  countenance  but  in  the  action  and 
build  of  the  figure.  The  old  masters  were  all  alive  to  the  importance 
of  making  a  portrait  an  absolute  fact  in  the  first  place ;  and  although 
Titian  and  Vandyke,  each  in  his  different  way,  by  surpassing  know- 
ledge of  treatment,  ennobled  the  aspect  of  their  sitters,  they  never 
sacrificed  an  iota  of  character.  With  modern  portrait  painters  it  is  a 
common  practice  to  sacrifice  their  strong  faculties  of  observation  to 
the  prevailing  taste  of  the  day,  or  to  the  requirements  of  family 
affection  and  prejudice.  Against  this  weakness  photography  bears 
witness  in  a  hundred  ways.  Harsh,  black,  unpleasant,  and  ugly  as 
you  please,  and  utterly  contemptible  as  a  work  of  art,  a  photograph 
sets  before  us  a  true  representation  of  the  construction  of  the  cranium, 
the  exact  set  of  the  features,  and  the  general  build  of  the  body,  with 

VOL.   1.  3D 


394  '^^^  Contemporary  Review. 

a  marvellous  accuracy  that  it  is  out  of  the  power  of  any  human  hand 
to  rival.  No  child  will  mistake  it,  the  dullest  clod  will  recc^nise  it ; 
yet  it  is  hut  a  dead  image,  lacking  the  spark  of  human  intellect 
which  gives  life  to  the  meanest  work  of  the  hand,  and  we  have  more 
sympathy  with  the  work  of  a  sign-painter  tlian  with  it.  But  by  the 
intelligent  portrait  painter,  surely  the  representation  which  conveys 
the  exact  conformation  of  the  skull,  the  air  and  custom,  as  it  were,  of 
the  man  in  his  bodily  presence,  rendered  so  faithfully  by  thia  wonder- 
ful agent,  should  be  received  thankfully  and  modestly ;  he  should  use 
it  as  Vandyke  or  EejTioIds  would  gladly  have  used  it,  as  a  valuable 
aid,  not  as  a  base  trammel.  Only  an  accomphshed  painter  can  so  use 
it ;  only  he  can  translate  its  meaning.  At  present  it  is,  for  the  most 
part,  neglected  by  those  who  might  well  profit  by  its  help,  and 
debased  by  the  modifications  of  sixth-rate  miniature  painters,  so  that 
many  of  our  portrait  painters  are  half  afraid  to  make  use  of  it,  and 
altogether  afraid  to  acknowledge  its  value. 

That  it  must  eventually  be  the  means  of  raising  the  art  of  por- 
traiture to  a  more  subtle  and  higher  rendering  of  truth,  we  firmly 
believe.  As  yet  our  contemporary  portraiture  shows  very  little  evi- 
dence of  this ;  but  we  may  mention  the  admirable  portrait-busts  of 
ilr.  Woolner  in  illustration  of  the  effects  produced  by  tliis  wonderful 
discovery  upon  an  active  and  sensitive  mind.  Mr.  Woolner  is  pro- 
bably wholly  unconscious  how  many  of  the  really  valuable  results  of 
photography  he  has  appropriated  and  embodied  in  his  work.  No 
portrait  painter  has  yet  seen  or  felt  the  true  use  of  it,  or  we  should 
have  less  reason  to  complain,  year  after  year,  of  the  portraits  that  are 
said  to  disfigure  the  walls  of  the  lioyal  Academy.  The  infusion  of 
that  hard  stern  reality  which  we  so  greatly  deprecate  in  a  photogi-aph 
is  more  than  all  else  needed  in  modern  portraiture,  and  though  a 
second-rate  painter  may  fear  to  become  the  slave  of  the  process,  and 
is  ever  ready  to  dread  that  his  work  may  be  superseded  by  its 
meclianical  results,  the  truly  accomplished  artist,  who  has  mastered 
the  greater  difficulties  of  his  art,  will  recognise  in  photography  the 
most  valuable  of  those  mechanical  aids  which  from  time  to  time  have 
been  placed  at  his  disposal  by  the  discoveries  of  science. 

It  is  not  however  by  the  aid  of  photography,  or  by  any  special 
education,  or  by  any  acquired  knowledge  of  technical  processes,  that 
any  man  can  become  a  great  portrait  painter.  A  man  of  genius  like 
Picynolds  takes  his  position  with  the  greatest  certainty,  though  all 
our  highly  prized  means  and  advantages  have  never  been  placed  at 
iiis  disposal.  Such  a  man  alone  can  make  a  riglit  use  of  them, 
because  he  is  so  independent  of  them.  Eeynolds  had  no  better  teach- 
ing than  that  of  a  sixth-rate  painter,  and  no  greater  opportunities  of 
study  and  travel  than  such  as  are  open  now,  at  infinitely  leas  trouble 


Modem  Portrait  Painting.  395 

and  cost,  to  the  great  majority  of  students;  yet  he  turned  to  wonder- 
fiil  account  all  his  opportunities,  while  he  did  not  scorn  the  meanest 
help :  he  'derived  the  breadth  and  vigour  of  his  style  from  the  study 
of  the  Venetian  and  Flemisli  masters;  but  he  never  parodied  their 
works :  he  nmde  use  of  the  mechanical  assistance  of  his  drapery-men, 
and  gave  life  to  their  work  by  the  faculty  which  enabled  him  to  make 
it  his  own.  His  light  was  reflected  by  his  immediate  successors,  and 
finally  went  out  with  Jackson,  the  last  of  our  luminous  flesh-painters. 
No  painter  since  his  day,  not  even  Turner,  whose  liighest  ambition 
was  to  lie  beside  him  in  St.  Paul's,  has  made  so  great  a  mark,  or 
exercised  so  large  an  influence  on  the  English  school.  The  present 
school  of  portraiture  needs  above  all  things  tlie  direction  and  presence 
of  a  man  of  similar  genius,  if  only  to  teach  our  painters  how  to  throw 
aside  the  weakness  which  makes  them  the  slaves  of  fashionable 
caprices,  and  to  instruct  them  how  to  make  use  of  tlie  advantages, 
discoveries,  and  higldy  increased  means  of  study,  which  of  late  years 
have  been  added  to  the  general  sum  of  their  resources  and 
experience. 

Lowes  Dickinson. 


THE  EDUCATION   OF  WOMEN. 


IF  one  were  to  pay  heed  to  mucli  of  what  "has  been  said  upun  plat- 
forms, aud  "vvritteii  in  pampliletg  and  newspnpers,  in  tLtt  coiu'se  ot 
the  last  eight  or  ten  years  on  the  guhject  of  the  education  of  women, 
one  might  be  led  to  tlilnlt  tliat  it  wag  a  matter  heretofore  almost, 
wholly  neglected,  and  that  the  present  generation  was  the  firat  to  dis- 
cover that  women  rei^iiire  ami  (lesiirv'e  traininir  suitable  to  tlie  share 
that  falla  to  them  in  carrying  uu  the  aflhira  of  life,  A  very  slight 
retrospect  will  show  how  far  this  is  from  lieing  the  case.  We  shall 
iind,  on  the  contrary,  reason  to  believe,  that  from  the  very  earliest 
Imies  the  hringiuj;  up  of  "^irls  must  have  been  a  subject  of  anxious 
care,  not  only  to  the  matrons,  but  to  the  men  of  eveiy  L:i\Tlized  uatiou. 
Thus,  to  go  no  farther  than  the  Bible  foT  examples,  the  pages  of  Ijoth 
Old  and  New  Testaments  exhibit  many  a  bright  poTtriLit  of  a  maidcu 
armed  with  all  the  graces  of  her  sex.  If  we  tui'n  tu  the  other  hcst 
known  peoples  of  ancient  days,  we  shall  find  etpial  I'easoii  to  believe 
that  they  were  not  so  mditlei'ent  to  the  education  of  their  dangbtei-s 
as  13  sometimes  mther  too  hastily  assumed.  The  poets  of  Hellas  would 
scarcely  have  asciihed  their  inspiration  to  the  favour  of  virgins  of  Heli- 
con, had  they  been  accustomed  to  the  society  of  M'omeii  incapable  of 
literary  cnltivatiou  and  refinement ;  nor,  again,  under  that  lUsadvanta^ 
could  they  have  conceived  the  cliainiing  feuitnine  characters  ^vith  which 
their  works  abound.     Nor  would  we  readily  believe  that  the  advant- 


The  Education  of  Women, 


397 


fige3  of  edncatioii  were  confitied  to  a  ijarticular  class  of  ■women,  whose 
hahits  of  life  maile  them  eager  to  adiam  mind  and  body  with  every 
meretricious  attraction.  It  is  a  point  difficult  to  prove.  Unhappily, 
_  it  is  too  clear  that  the  Eistimate  of  women  at  Athena  was  low,  and 
■tlic  new  taken  of  their  dnties  as  wives  and  mothers  mean  and  degrnil- 
iiig.  And  no  doitbt  few  wonlil  he  found  to  rise  above  the  low  level 
assigned  them,  for  wnmen  in  all  ages  and  countries  adapt  themsolvcs 
very  much  to  what  men  think  of  them.  At  the  same  time  there 
rnuld  be  no  chance  of  our  bearing;  of  sutsh  exceptions  as  miylit  oceur, 
eiiitie  Pericles  must  have  exj^ircssed  this  ^enend  feeling  of  his  country- 
men wlien  he  said  that  nothing  was  more  creditable  to  a  woman  than 
to  he  never  beai'd  of  among  men.  Bnt  it  does  not  follow  from  this 
that  we  have  no  data  to  go  upon.  Great  men  do  not  spring  from  the 
wonil>s  of  iguortmt  and  foolish  mothers.  Just  as  the  orabor  foimd  the 
glnriouB  deals  of  her  sons  redound  to  the  glory  of  Athens,  so  we  may 

I  reasonably  infer  that  Hellenic  soldiers,  atatfsmeD,  and  poets  owed 
much  to  those  who  bore  them,  and  praise  the  mothera  in  the  children. 
The  same  argument  might  be  nsed  of  the  matronage  of  IJome.  But  it 
is  not  our  present  business  to  argue  the  matter.  We  woidd  merely 
indicate  that  there  are  grounds  for  thinking  tliat  more  regard  was 
paidj  and  ^'ith  more  succesSj  to  the  education  (if  women  in  past  ages 
than  is  commuidy  supposed,  and  remind  our  readers  thut  whUe  they 
are  sure  to  hear  of  all  the  evil  that  can  be  said  against  the  sex,  imd 
find  the  names  of  the  moat  pr(>fligate  women  reconlert,  IiL'9t-ory  is 
likely  to  be  silent  coacerning  the  great  bidk  of  those  virtuous  and 
accomplished  matrons  who,  content  with  bearing  the  eontjuemrs  of 
the  world  intellectiml  or  world  material,  lived  quiet  and  unknown 
under  the  siiadtjw  of  th<?iir  homes.  >Ve  may  pass  to  the  more  imme- 
'diately  interesting  subject  of  the  education  of  women  in  our  own 
count  ly. 

The  pretty  story  of   King   ^Vlfred'a   childhooii — his  coveting   an 

illiuninuted  copy  of  a  Saxon  poera,  and  winning  it  of  his  mother  by 

lenmtog  to  read  it- — may  be  fairly  taken  as  t>i:tical  of  the  way  of" 

-JingUsli  DLothers  with  their  sons.     There  is  perhap.?  no  nation  on  the- 

l^hce  of  the  earth  where  women  have  more  uniformly  claimed  or  better 

«xereised  their  uatuml  rights  in  the  bringing  up  of  their  ufTspring. 

J-'ow  men  have  attained  to  greatness  among  iis  on  whose  character  this 

mder  um-ture  of  early  yea.i's  has  not  left  decii  marks,  few  who  have 

nt  openly  and  thankfully  acknuwlcdged  the  debt.     But  it  may  be 

,'Rin  inferred  tliat  women  who  could  so  acfi;Mit  themselves  of  their 

■aching  duties  could  not  liave  been  rude  or  uneducated.     And  it 

^uust  be  said  that  the  chroniclera  of  England  have  done  them  con- 

eiderable  justice.     Our  annals  teem  with  the  names  of  royal   and 

■  iioUIe  dames  reuuwued  fur  eveiy  fcniiniiie  accomplishment,  as  well  as: 

^^^^  "         ■  ■ 


398  The  Co2ttemporary  Review. 

those  MgTier  qualities  of  soul  without  ■which  acconiplislmieutfi  are 
worth  little — wisdom,  tenderness,  and  purity.  Even  the  rmle  K"orinflu 
timas  aboiintl  witli  such  names,  and  to  cite  exiiinplea  would  lie  mertly 
to  ciLtwil  nuT  pa^'es  to  no  purjiuse.  Should  it  Ite  replied  that  these 
were  after  ail  niei-ely  exceptions,  proving  unthiug  of  the  average  coa- 
ditioti  of  the  sex.  -wc  are  iiiit  withuut  the  uieana  of  showiitfj;  that  the 
e<iucrvtioii  of  u-omeu  wiia  not  neglected  Li  the  luiika  uf  ur^liimiy  life. 
Take,  for  instance,  the  Paston  Letters — a  collection  the  authenticity 
of  wliieh  it  la  a  marvel  indeed  sliould  ever  have  been  questioned.  To 
that  iiivaluablii  repurtoiy  we  tiinl  the  ladies  of  the  family  contribiiliiii; 
their  fall  share.  Indeed,  it  aeems  to  have  been  the  oustoia'of  the 
men  of  that  house  to-  have  eoiisLilted  tliem  nri  jiU  their  moat  important 
afi'au's.  Tliey  nut  only  writ«  tu  then-  luothera  ur  wives  concerning 
their  domestic  matters,  but  keep  them  well  informed  of  the  shifting 
palitica  of  those  troubleil  times.  They  appear  seldom  to  have  takeu 
any  step  fur  the  mauagetueut  or  protection  of  tlieir  property,  or  eveu 
Lu  their  relatluus  with  the  rival  factions  of  the  day,  witiiout  asking 
their  advice.  Tlie  ladies,  on  their  side,  apjietu'  to  have  well  isamed  the 
contideuce  ^epo^:ied  in  thciu.  Nothing  can  be  more  prudent  and  coiuit- 
geous,  at  the  same  tune  more  tender  and  womanly,  than  the  generiil 
tfiuor  of  theif  letters.  It  i-i  truly  surpiisiug,  in  the  midst  of  the 
terrible  civil  war  which  was  then  ktyuig  England  waste,  and  in  whidi 
tlieir  husbaudd.  sons,  or  brothera  took  an  active  share,  tii  see  tlieui  30 
uurutlled  Iiy  terror  or  anxiety.  WJiateA'er  they  felt  they  kept  to 
theniselves.  "When  occasion  called  tlieni  to  act,  they  provud  equal 
to  the  demand.  Nor  were  they  wanting  in  those  lighter  arts  which 
make  home  clieerfnl  in  times  of  peace.  Thus  there  is  a  pretty  letter 
i'i'om  a  laiiy  to  a  uublcmau,  in  lines  much  above  the  common  run  uf 
ufif^  rfe  soddtd.*  Ho  maiden  of  modern  days  could  write  letters  to  her 
lover  excelling  in  modesty,  simplicity,  aud  tenderness,  those  uf  sweet 
Margery  Brewa  to  John  Taston,  "  her  Valentine.''-^  And  one  might 
search  all  Jiistory  in  vain  for  a  niore  perfect  pattern  of  wiJe  ami 
mother  than  ilai-ytiret  Paston,  mother- lu-Uiw  of  Mai-gery.  lu  the 
very  Hrst  letter  of  the  collection  \i'e  are  tuld  of  iier  eutejtaiuing  lier 
future  hiLsband  "with gen tyl  cher  in  gentyl  wyse."  A  year  or  two 
after  her  mamitge  she  commends  heraelf  to  him  "  with  all  her  sLniplo 
heite,"  Wjien  he  is  sick,  she  would  have  him  hotuo  "  lever  ilmt  »i 
newe  goune,  zow  it  wer  of  scarlette."  f^he  is  able  anil  hold  enough  to 
niakft  gijod  her  Imsbaad's  house  in  his  ab^ftuce  against  the  wild 
retainers  of  the  Duke  of  SuCfotk.  There  ia  indeed  sonieilung  vi-ry 
toucliing  in  tmciug,  in  the  long  aeries  of  her  letters,  lliiti  gentle  cth-x- 
Lure's  career  tlirough  M'edloek  into  widowhood.  To  the  la,5t.  for  nil 
her  troubles  and  losses,  she  is  the  aanie  briglit  JMargarctv  well  worlliy 
•  "  Piiflton  Utlew,"  Tol,  ii.,  p.  304.  t  Ihid.,  pp.  214-15. 


I 

I 


Tfic  Education  of  Women.  399 

of  the  huslaiid  wlao,  after  they  hatl  lived  mare  thim  twenty  years 
together,  "ttTit-cs  a  merry  letter  in  rhyme  to  bis  "  own  clear  sover(*ijjii 
lady,"  From  the  same  soiirce  we  pet  some  curioiia  iiilbrmatinn  ti8  to 
how  girls  of  good  birtli  were  brought  up  iu  those  riiiyi*.  Theve  19  no 
hint  of  their  ever  being  sent  to  a  convent  to  he  ediicated.  The  moat 
common  plan  seems  to  havu  l^een  to  place  Ihym  umler  the  charge  of 
some  fnend  cn'  relative,  they  in  return,  besides  aonie  pnyment  for  their 
honnl,  makinc;  theraaelves  usefiJ  in  the  house.  Thws  amoii;^  the 
memoranda  of  jigiics  I'aston^who  it  may  l>e  inferred  was  a  senfiilde 
wonaaii,  abice  we  find  her  elsewhere  ma.king  a  special  request  t<i  her 
sou's  tiit^jr  "  to  belash  lum"  unless  he  were  more  diligent — is  one  to 
this  effect ; — 

"And  sey  Elyzabt'  Paaton  that  ahc  Biust  iieu  hyrseUu  to  iverke  redyly  as 
oth«r  lentylwomen  don',  and  au'what  to  helpo  hyrBulfo  therw't.  It'm  to 
jiay  tiie  Lady  PoIb  sxyjs.  viijdv  for  h^\T  liord."* 


So,  in  another  place,  Sir  John  Hevoniiighara  deeirea  Mai^ret  Pastoa 

to  take  Anneys  Love  day  aa  a  boarder. 

■       Succeeding  generations  appear   in  this  reapoct  to  have  deserved 

bigaally  well  of  tlieir  rountry.     The  era  of  tlie  Tudnrs  was  i'raitftd  i>C 

^Tjfccefui  and  acctiiupliahed  women.     iJut  with  the  Stuarts  came  i.'vil 

times.     That  iU-oraeiieU  race,  conscious  of  their  deftjctive  title  to  Uie 

cro-vi-n,  did  all  in  their  power  to  degrade  and  brutalize  the  |H;t.ple  over 

whom  they  were  placed.     Accordingly  they  ilt'liburatcly  encouraged 

ignorance  and  vice  iu  both  sexea.    The  royal  daughter  of  Henry  Vlll., 

under  the  like  dissidvaidiige,  had  comported  heraell'  in  far  different 

wise.     She  imi>eriously  aaaerteil  her  right,  and  U'  she  did  not  succeed 

in  silencing  all  (juestion,  at  least  made  all  men  obey  her,  while  they 

wondered  at  the  vigour  and  wisdom  of  a  woman.     But  theie  was  no 

such  nobleness  to  sujiport   tlie   poor  recreant   who   succeeded   her, 

LTntler  him  chiefly  came  in  tliat  withering  baseness  of  morals  which, 

poisoned  a  large  part  of  Englislt  society  for  the  enauing  hundred  and 

fifty  years,  and  of  the  eft'ects  of  which  we  are  not  yet  rid.    CulniiiiJiting 

Xxnder  the  second  Oliarles,  it  avhs  too  slowly  worked  out.     Indeed,  in 

coarseness  of  thought  and  speech,  the  ladies  of  th«  eatUer  half  of  tho 

la-st  ii:eiitnry  were  almgi^t  a  uiutoh  for  the  women  of  Charles's  Com-t, 

iiltbough  their  lives  were  prohaldy  less  actually  profligate.    But  the 

tveoKls  of  the  Courts  of  the  four  Georges  are  not  pleasant,  and  it  is 

j>oot  honour  to  have  shone  in  any  one  of  them.     Gcnr^'e  Hi.  ai\d  his 

<)neen  stand  out  brightly  in  the  imsavoury  story,  but  few  of  their 

courtiers  deserve  to  range  with  tlieir  master  and  mistress.     Untler 

"tliose  unfavourable  circumstances,  no  wonder  that  women  sank  rapiilly 

downwards  in  the  scale  of  refinement.     The  tone  of  gallantry  whicU 

•  "  Pnitoa  Lcttcra,"  vol.  L,  p.  113. 


400 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


prevailed  in  the  time  of  the  Stunrts  sprang  from  no  true  respect:  it 
thinly  covered  a  settled  desifiii  to  dej^jrade  ■women  into  mere  iugtmiuenta 
find  bond-slaves  of  hist.  If  imder  Anne  there  wa?  sonio  att*nii:'t  at 
impiovemeut,  it  was  too  short  and  fleeting  to  pmduce  much  effect. 
The  Queeu's  own  weak  character  aiitl  yross  personal  Imhits  did  much 
to  counteract  the  efforts  in;icle  hy  such  uien  as  the  writers  in  the  f^per.^ 
tctitir  to  improve  tlie  miads  uf  the  women  of  their  day.  Some  names 
Temaia,  it  is  tme,  to  attest  the  existence  of  clever  and  cultivated 
women  among  onr  gre3-t-graiitlmother.s,  but  they  fall  aftdly  beneath  tlie 
Jane  Greys  and  IMargaret  Pastons  of  earlier  days.  Indeed,  1  know 
few  things  more  satUy  indicative  of  decay  in  niannei's  than  a  com- 
jiarison  of  tlie  letters  of  the  ladies  of  the  Paston  fandly  with  those  of 
the  famous  Lady  llary  Wortley  Montagu.  For  grace,  siinphcity,  and 
love — for  the  "wisdom  of — 

"Parfect  women,  nobly  planned 
Tp  guide,  to  coimapl,  alld  fOniiiillLKl," — 

we  find  substituted  the  heartless  gaiety  and  cold  Bparkle  of  the  -witty 
woman  of  the  world,  fettered  to  a  husband  to  whom  she  had  no  love 
to  give,  and  surrounded  by  a  circle  of  people  whose  admiration  she 
coveted,  but  ibr  \i'hom  she  had  not  a  simrk  of  true  r^^rd.  You  may 
Bee  the  character  of  the  two  ei-as  in  their  dress.  Look  at  the  sober 
dame  of  tlie  fifteenth  century,  as  she  lies  by  her  husband's  aide  with 
lier  comely  wimple  and  decorous  robe,  falhng  evenly  to  her  feet,  and 
compare  with  licr  the  belle  of  tlie  eighteenth,  all  powder,  patches, 
paint,  aud  hoopa.  It  is  true,  it  became  a  fasliion  with  women  to  he 
leamed.  Kiit  learning  doein  not  mean  education  in  the  true  sense  nf 
ttie  word,  especially  in  tlie  case  of  women,  and  it  is  very  duuLtfuI 
whether  they  were  any  the  better  for  it.  Johnson,  tnie  to  the  cauae. 
of  letterSj  bestows  Ida  praise  on  the  Mrs.  Carters  and  Mrs.  Monta:j,iia 
of  his  day,  but  it  is  jiretty  clear  he  does  not  much  Uke  them.  Sliss 
Buniey  and  Miss  Hannali  More  seem  to  have  been  the  only  literoiy 
women  for  whom  he  really  cared.  Aud  U'  there  were,  as  Ood 
forbid  there  should  not  have  been,  many  excellent  women  in  those 
days  who  yearned  after  better  thin^,  the  terrible  storm  of  the  French 
devolution  left  them  no  chance  of  effecting  much  good.  We  ar«  only 
now  getting  far  enough  from  that  feaifid  time  to  estimate — whatever 
go*jd  may  have  since  sprung  from  it — the  stern  check  it  imposed  for 
many  long  years  on  the  prrigitss  of  learuiny  and  art.  Scott  exceptwl, 
even  the  poets  who  adorned  that  period  were  little  known  or  appre- 
ciated till  some  years  after  the  struggle  was  over.  The  number  of 
atuilents  at  the  \uiiversitie3  dwindled  down;  there  were  few  or  no 
gi-eat  writers  i  all  men's  thoughts  and  energies  were  spent  on  the  war. 
Prosj^rous  for  a  few,  the  tin;e3  for  the  bulk  of  the  people  were  hanl, 
and  there  was  little  money  to  spend  on  the  teacher.     If  som  fared 


The  Education  of  Women. 


401 


I 
I 

I 


I 
I 
I 


badly  in  this  respect,  ilaughtei-s,  iis  is  the  way  of  the  worLil,  lared 
worse,  and  pmlittbly  at  no  time  in  our  history  waa  the  education  uf 
i,vi:»men  genemUy  at  a  lower  iioLiit  than  in  tliD  time  of  Geor-^e  lY., 
whether  na  regent  or  kin";.  Diiuciny,  the  juerest  suiutteriug  gf  draw- 
iug,  French,  and  music,  were  all  tliat  was  taught  a  girl.  As  for  more 
solid  aocomjilishments^  they  were,  geiiLjrally  speaking,  utterly  Tie^^lecteiL 
An  album  fifty  or  sixty  years  old  is  of  dreary  things  the  di^earieat. 
Trum^pery  veraea,  puny  little  copies  of  a  dmwiiig-maater's  stuck- 
iii-trade  cii"  flowers.  I'riiit,  anil  impusaible  eottagea.  make  them  up. 
Qiteen  Adelaide,  wiUing  enough  to  set  an  example  of  better  things, 
was  too  short  a  time  in  the  position  to  do  so,  and  suffered  too 
much  from  bi-oken  health.  A  tmn  for  the  better  waa  reseri^ed  for 
her  successor. 

The  reign  of  our  present  Sovereign,  ha  many  respects  felicitous,  baa 
been  in  none  more  so  than  the  attention  which  baa  been  paid  to  the 
condition  of  women  in  all  ranks  of  society,  Time  indeed  it  wita  that 
sometliijig  should  be  done.  The  misery  and  degradation  of  the  lives 
of  loo  many  ■women  waa  and  is  a  stain  upon  tlie  luanlwod  of  the 
country.  With  t^ganl,  however,  to  the  matter  with  which  we  are  at 
present  concerned — their  education — the  favouraljle  change  of  which 
we  speak  is  due  not  merely  to  the  fact  of  there  being  a  woman 
on  the  throne,  but  very  much  to  the  personal  chaiflcter  of  the  Queen 
and  her  Consort.  Both  began  their  career  by  taking  a  hearty  interest 
in  arts  and  letters;  huth  were  by  temijerument  and  education  in- 
chned  to  domestic  life,  adorned  by  beci^uiiiig  and  refined  puvanita; 
neither  cared  for  the  riotous  pleasures  fir  barbaric  spleudour  of 
inilgar  royalty,  Alxive  all,  both  were  influenced  by  a  genuine 
desire  to  impro\'e  the  condition  of  the  jxiot.  The  late  Priiice  Con- 
sort will  be  always  and  deservedly  remembered  for  his  care  for 
the  poor.  In  all  his  effort,?  tij  help  them  he  was  secoiuled  by 
the  Queen,  and  the  sight  of  thy  Koyal  pair  busy  in  doing  good 
unquestionably  wrought  an  incalculable  effect  thiiiughout  the  coun- 
try, especially  among  WL>mcu.  It  reminded  them  of  the  mighty 
share  they  hold  in  alleviatiiig  the  sufl'erings  and  promoting  the 
welfare  of  the  world  :  it  encouraged  those  who  had  hitherto  worked 
or  yearned  to  work  in  secret  to  come  out  into  the  light  of  day,  and 
openly  anil  publicly  ask  for  help  in  every  department  in  which  it 
was  needed.  The  stir  and  movement  thus  aroused  had  the  best  efi'ect 
on  their  minds.  Tliey  began  to  perceive  in  how  many  pninta  their 
education  hatl  been  defective — how  format,  superficial,  and  sh^D^\'y  were 
the  aceompliahments  on  which  they  had  moat  prided  themselves.  For 
a  woman  who  does  not  go  beyond  her  own  home  and  little  circle  of 
friends  and  acqiuiuitauce  scarcely  ever  has  an  opportunity  of  taking 
true  measure  of  herself.     She  never  gets  that  rough  contact  with  other 


402 


The  Conk'mpoi'ary  Review. 


ininds  which  soon  teaches  her  bmthers  to  find  their  level.  People  ore 
— and  quite  rightly,  for  the  drawing-room  is  not  a  fit  arena  for  trials 
of  that  Boit — tjjo  kinil,  too  civil,  too  careful  of  her  ft'elinj^s  to  give  her 
a  elianco  of  finding  out  what  ]ter  education  is  rejilly  wortJi,  how  far  it 
has  suuraieded  iu  arming  her  with  I'efinement,  self-control,  and  aptitude 
for  business.  But  as  soon  as  sooioties  be<^au  to  be  formed  iu  wliicb 
women  took  a  leatLiug  part,  uulI  that  in  jjuIjIio,  they  qiUL-fcly  le-iirnt 
that  something  more  was  needed  than  they  Jiad  been  accustomed  to 
receive  from  their  t4i(H!lier8.  It  is  too  true  tliat  there  uiust  Ihj  mhleii 
to  this  the  pressure  of  actual  need,  The  tprder  of  I'raTidcnoti  has 
been  overset  by  emif^tioii.  Tliousands  of  women  who  might  liave 
naturally  louked  to  maiTJage  tor  support  in  uonifi]rt  and  quiet,  have 
beeu  forced  to  earn  tlieir  bread  for  thaiuselvea.  Mauy  have  had  the 
dreatlfol  choice  to  make  between  want  and  evil  courses.  Men,  it  must 
be  owned,  have  not  done  aU  their  duty  in  the  niatter.  It  cannot  be 
denied  that,  take  sucitty  throughout,  women  liave  not  been  of  late 
thought  and  spoken  of  witli  t!ie  respect  due  to  them.  There  is  too 
much  ridicule,  too  nnicb  contemptuous  talk.  If,  fis  is  probable,  there 
is  less  pmHigHLy  umoiig  the  u|.>pei'  ranks  of  society  than  formerly,  it 
has  without  doubt  fearfully  increased  in  the  coiiunercial  emd  labouring 
cla-isea.  Theretbi-e,  when  we  read  in  the  newspaperg  tales  of  brutaJity 
to  women  tliat  seem  to  grow  daily  more  teiTible,  we  must  regard  it,  as 
indeed  crime  is  always  to  be  regarded,  m  the  outward  sore  which  indi- 
cates the  poison  i^ithin,  poison  alfectin^  the  whole  body  politic.  Nor 
have  these  signs  of  the  times  obtained  from  meiL  the  attention  tbey 
deserve.  There  has  been  talk,  but  little  has  been  done.  Thijs  varioua 
circumstances  have  combined  to  urge  those  women,  wbtim  t-Jod  has 
blessed  M-ith  leisure  and  ability,  to  come  forward  and  attempt  t<)  do 
something  cliet^tnal  foi-  the  benefit  of  their  own  Sex.  And  the  first 
and  chiefsjst  need  they  found  was  that  they  should  be  better  taught. 
For  this,  then,  tlicre  (|mckly  atnsc  a  cry. 

At  first,  it  was  not.  so  much  an  articulate  ciy  as  a  scream.  In  every 
great  movement  of  humanity  it  will  Ijc  found  that  the  wiser  part  of 
mankind  are  not  the  first  to  come  foi"ward  itnd  declare  themselves, 
especially  where  there  is  a  grievance  or  a  want.  Not  that  they  wait 
to  aee  how  the  wind  blows,  but  what  they  discuss  iu  private,  and  are 
waiting  prudently,  may  hs  over-prudently,  for  a  lit  occasion  to  brinff 
before  the  world,  some  ineantinns  or  miachievous  friend  blazes  abroail, 
and  if  it  be  a  matter  of  geneml  interest,  forthwith  there  is  a  eontta- 
gratinn.  Never  was  this  more  the  case  than  in  the  present  instance. 
It  is  now,  we  believe,  some  ten  or  twelve  years  since  the  public  mind 
began  to  he  aroused  on  various  points  regaitling  the  state  of  women 
both  in  this  country  and  the  colonies.  Great  complainta  were  made  of 
the  incompetence  of  ladies  of  the  present  day  to  conduct  their  house- 


The  EdiicalioH  of  Women. 


403 


I 

I 


I 


holds.  They  did  not  know,  it  was  eaiil,  how  tt)  cook  fi  diimer.  cut  out 
a  ftvtck.  ur  rale  their  maideua.  Eeally  at  one  time  a  wH'e  must,  we 
thiuk,  have  heen  in  a  state  of  nervous  excitement  every  time  dinner 
was  ('Ut  nn  table,  or  a  new  aet  of  poeket-bandkerchiet's,  came  homa 
for  her  hnshaiid.  Theu  their  taste  wiis  laughed  to  acorn.  Gaudy,  ill- 
liliiiiiietl,  Vtit  uofc  tihiiiip  t'liniitnrp,  crowded  their  drawing-roiim,?,  wlule 
•^HLirmeuts  oi'  pre poste. runs  sliape  and  iL^touiiding  uohmrs  distii^urcd  Iheii" 
liodiya.  Ic  must  he  owned  there  was  some  truth  in  these  charges.  In 
some  tlegi'ee,  under  the  Iiest  clrcumatauces,  they  will  fihvays  he  true. 
J-'eu"  women,  or  men  either,  will  ever  Ijg  trained  to  llioiwiyh  skill  or 
taste  in  any  scientje  or  acconipliahmeut,  and  the  geueinl  condition  in 
luattera  like  dress  or  furniture  will  depend  on  bow  I'ar  tliu  leadera  of 
fashion  may  he  competniut  to  theLT  task.  Eut  the  outciy  i-aiaed  was 
simply  foolish,  because  it  said  that  everything  as  it  was  waa  simjjly 
nTouji.  Theu  was  hnju^ht  I'orft'iii'd  the  suhjeet  of  the  inequahty  of 
the  sexes.  Women  ^vere  atanring  at  home  for  want  of  hushiiuda,  while 
in  the  colonies  men  were  }iiuin<[  and  in  i-aj,'s  for  lack  of  wives.  Tko 
panacea,  at  least  as  hir  a?  the  tdd  eouiiby  was  concerned,  was  to  Iib 
wliat  was  called  the  euuuieipatiim  of  women.  Hithei'to  It  must  he  sup- 
posed women  had  been  slaves.  Llost  men  ivill  rather  incline  to  the 
view  of  the  little  Sunday  achool  hoy,  who,  upon  the  tyacher  asking  the 
clues  to  pr<jve  from  ycripture  that  men  may  nut  have  more  than  one 
■wife^  called  out,  "  I  know,  teacher — No  man  can  8er\'e  two  masters." 
However,  emanciiiiition  it  was  to  be.  "WHiat  was  desired  seemed  tu  ha 
that  a  husband  and  wifL',  hviny;  in  one  house,  with  every  interest  in  the 
world  in  ottmmon,  might  have  separate  pui'ses.  Women  did  not  appear 
to  see  that  aUhctugh  tliis  might  mend  cine  great  and  growinjf  evil,  it 
might  end  in  bringing  in  another  Eind  far  gi-eater  one.  Unscrupulous 
men  might  altogether  deny  the  duty  of  maintainiug  wives  whom  the 
law  permitted  to  earn  a  living  for  theiuselves.  The  census  of  18('il, 
proving  that  women  outnujiihered  men  in  England  far  more  than  hud 
been  supposed,  fanned  the  flame  higher  and  hotter,  Thete  was  a 
perfwt  etonn  of  meetingsj,  speeches,  pamphletg,  magfixiutis.  In  the 
midst  of  all  this,  tho  voice  of  s@ii$e  and  teiwun  could  he  scarcely 
heard.  But  in  the  tucHUtime  the  fruit  of  the  work  of  wMe  imd 
self-denyiug  women,  which  had  been  quietly  going  forward  all  the 
time,  l>€-gyu  to  sliow  itself.  It  was  seen  that  mothers'  meetings, 
cottage  llower  shows,  parish  sewing  societies,  well-organized  schemes 
of  emigration,  and,  to  turn  to  more  sad  aiul  serious  matters,  refuges 
und  penitentiaries,  wen?  Ijegiuumg  to  produce  a  sensible  improve nicut. 
More,  than  tliis,  the  general  time  of  the  aex  grew  better.  Amimg 
women  of  mnk  and  station  there  waa  lesa  folly,  leas  frivolity  and 
bad  tastt*.  Hut  the  iuiprovenient  was  cliielly  diacemihle  in  Liu- 
doD,  where  lived  the  greater  number  of  the  more  aensihle  women 


404 


The  Contemporary  Revkw. 


■who  were  tiying  to  htilp  their  sisters.  In  the  provinees,  &t  any  rate 
among  the  commercial  classes,  cateleesnesa  of  the  wants  of  their 
iieigliljfiurs,  or  at  tlie  best  niiadireeted  energies,  and  in  their  own  dress 
eukI  Iionses  a  foolish  love  of  fineiy  and  show,  still  i-fiignud  piedonii- 
nant.  It  was  seen  that  the  root  of  all  this  lay  iu  iynoriuice.  Thui^hV 
ful  wnmen  |ierceiveil  that  no  large  and  well-rlirected  attempt  eoiild  be 
made  to  avert  tlie  evils  which  are  tlirenteuiiig  the  wliole  fabric  of 
society  througli  the  great  wrongs  their  sex  are  tuideuiably  suf!eriug  ia 
nur  day,  until  the  general  body  were  better  taught,  and  sn  not  only  knew 
Ijetter  what  to  ask  for,  but  made  theii'  appeal  in  a  ntoiii  clcai-  and  uuited 
voice.  They  therefore  left  for  a  while  their  other  pressing  tasks  to  go 
on  quietly  under  the  hands  of  those  to  whom  they  were  moi-e  e*i>ecially 
committed,  and  yf  Vi^hich  we  have  the  past  three  or  foui-  years  Itealid 
compamtively  little,  in  order  to  urge  the  public  mind  to  consider  the 
need  of  improving  the  education  of  "women.  Tlius  what  was  in  the 
bejjduuing  a  confused  scream,  became  a  clear  and  definite  Cry  t'ot  help. 
Before  entering  upon  the  detail  of  what  they  demanded,  and  whaf. 
has  been  done  to  meet  ih^w  demand,  it  will  be  well  to  examiut'  what 
grounds  of  euhiplamt  existedj  and  what  end  it  is  desirable  lo  have  id 
view.  It  is  impossible,  we  think,  to  deny  that,  some  twenty  year* 
ago,  girls  were  very  badly  taught.  "Whether  they  were  sent  to  schotiE 
or  brought  up  by  governesses  at  home,  the  result,  as  has  been  already 
pointed  out,  wns  verj'  slight  and  meagre.  Now  we  are  not  going  to 
make  an  ou-'ilaught  on  either  governesses  or  girls  schools ;  yet  we 
Cannot  help  saying  that,  some  years  back,  Ixith  were  as  bad  as  they 
could  be.  This  was  due  by  no  means  so  much  to  their  own  fault  us 
to  the  parents  of  their  scholars.  People  engaging  a  governess  aski^t 
and  expected  her  to  teach  their  daught-ers  a  whole  round  uf  accoiu- 
plisbments.  Even  well-educated  pei'sous,  whose  attention  had  Iictn 
long  turned  to  ntlier  pursuit-s,  and  who  were  busy  M'ith  the  cares  of  life, 
forgot  how  imjiossible  it  was  for  one  person  to  teach  more  than  oue  or 
two  things  well.  Perhaps  we  must  add  that  tlie  forgetfulneia  was  in 
some  measure  wilftd,  sparing  tlie  pursi?.  So  the  poor  governess  had 
to  teach  subjects  witli  which  she  was  hera&lJ'  imperfectly  acquainted, 
and  could  oidy  just  keep  ahead  of  her  pupils.  Many  a  poor  girl  roust 
have  had  trying  work  of  it ;  fiupils  all  day,  indooi-s  and  out,  uever  gut 
rid  of  but  in  bed,  and  to  ha^'e  to  give  to  the  next  lesson  in  Oemian  or 
Italian  the  pn^ci'ius  hour  or  two  of  solitude  before  gning  to  rest.  How 
coidd  the  pupils  got  much  real  ttiaching  from  one  so  jatled  and  weary  \ 
How  uoidd  we  wonder  if  to  be  a  governess  was  the  last  thing  a  well- 
bred  and  high-priijcipled  girl  would  take  to,  yet  the  rejidy  i-esort  nf 
imscnijiulous  poverty  ?  As  for  schools,  things  were,  if  possible,  yet 
worse.  Every  girl  was  e.tpeet-ed  to  be  taught  eveiytldng.  Her  own 
measure  of  taste  and  abilities  was  the  last  tiling  tliought  of  by  her 


The  Education  of  Wo^nen. 


405 


t 
■ 
1 


I 


l-iareuta.  Kuijwk-dge  and  skill  could  be  put  intu  Lev,  they  considered, 
like  water  iiitrj  u  gla,5s  or  sugar  into  a  Ijasiu,  and  tliey  expected  tti  jiay 
for  it  at  90  mudi  per  pound.  The  puur  SLlioolnii stress  was  obligeil  tu 
put  everytliing  slie  could  think  of  into  lier  prospectus,  an<J  find,  some- 
how or  other,  nn  hour  or  two  in  the  ctrar&e  of  the  week  lor  every  sub- 
ject, Thtjy  were  taken  in  routine,  no  matter  how  inconsistent  and 
repulsive.  Here  is  an  e-sample.  Two  little  girb  of  thii-teeu  and 
eleven  yeAts  old,  at  a  iit$t-ratc  Lqndon  boarding-school,  spent  a 
iday  with  a  mnmed  consin.  At  hi-eakfast  on  Monday  luornitig 
Bfte  asked  them  what  they  would  have  to  do  when  they  got  back. 
"Oh,  the  fii^t  lesson  is  in  chronology."  And  the  next?  "Ob,  the 
next  is  in  conchology."*  But  the  mistress  was  not  to  blame.  If 
,  parents  insisted  on  their  daughters  recMjiving  a  sumtUiiTing  uf  every 
ch  of  luuuan  knowledge,  she  must  obey.  Ifc  ia  easy  to  say,  "Do 
what  is  right,  and  never  mind  consef^uencea;"  but  when  a  lady  has 
taken  a  lai'ge  house  and  jiremisea,  and  has  rent  and  baker's  bills 
before  her  eyes,  it  is  not  so  easy  to  defy  the  world.  Not  enay,  even 
where  there  is  a  fiiir  standard  to  appeal  to ;  least  of  all  where  there 
was  none  but  tlie  judgment,  or  misjudgment,  of  parents.  Men  who 
teach  boys  are  in  a  far  better  position.  They,  if  they  have  been  at 
either  O.tford  or  Cambridge,  have  their  place  in  the  honour  cliissea  to 
point  to  Ui  testimony  of  their  liaving  bestowed  attention  on  thes  tasks 
in  wJiich  they  are  engaged.  If  not,  they  can  still  challenge  the 
example  set  by  the  able  scliolars  who  are  pliiceJ  at  the  head  of  all  the 
moat  important  schools,  and  argue  that  they  are  not  likely  to  be 
wrong  in  ibllnwing  in  the  steps  of  guides  30  competent  to  lead  them. 
But  a  lady  had  no  such  support.  Sho  had  abgolntely  nothing  but 
the  chance  of  parents  forming  a  right  estimate  of  her  ahilities — an 
estimate  which  must  be  formed  chiefly  from  the  reports  of  a  child, 
certainly  inexperienced  and  ignorant^  perhaps  vain,  foolish,  and 
maliciou-s  into  the  bargain- — ^to  distinguish  her  Irom  the  female  char- 
latftn  in  the  next  street,  whom  the  posBession  of  a  few  hundred  poimds, 
and  the  desire  of  butter  for  her  bread,  had  moved  to  put  a  platu  with 
"Academy  for  Yomig  Ladies"  on  her  door,  without  knowledge,  with- 
out accomplishments,  witliout  liberality,  but  with  just  sense  enough 
lo  keep  a  gnud  table  for  her  pupils,  and  to  see  that  her  half-staned, 
worn-out  assistants  occupied  them  from  hour  to  hour  throughout  the 
day  with  a  pretence  of  instruction,  This  is  no  overcharged  descrip- 
tion of  what  many  and  many  a  girls  school  was  and  is  throughout 
the  country.  It.  is  the  harder  to  combat,  because  every  girls  sch'jol  is 
a  private  speculatiyn,  and  that,  too,  in  ninety-niue  cases  otit  of  a 
hiipdred,  a  speculation  not  veiy  flourishing.  No  wmnnn  takes  to  the 
boaiiieas  of  teaching  girls  except  imdet  pressure  of  absolute  uecesaity. 

•  Fact.    It  (wcuned  at  the  irrlter'a  own  tnlile. 


4o6 


Tke  Contemporary  Review. 


The  most  succeasftd  acboolraistresaes  do  not  realize  more  than  a  very 
uiuilest  cumijetency  to  retire  upon  in  old  age;  few  get  more  tlian 
ilaiJy  bread  Often  tliere  is  an  idle  scamp  of  a  Imsband  in  the  back- 
gruiLud,  who  is  not  asliauied  to  be  the  parasite  and  caitkei-worm  of  his 
own  wife.  Every  one  knows  how  diflerent  it  is  with  men.  The  pro- 
fession of  a  sehooJmast-er,  if  sfuiytiniea  irksome  anrl  laborious,  i?,  and 
always  haji  been  in  En{,dand,  excei»t  by  the  man*s  o\nj  I'anU,  dignihed 
ainl  honourable — often,  indeed^  in  the  case  of  clei^,  leading  to  the 
very  lii^ihest  prelermeuts  in  the  Church.  Nfany  masters  of  ordinaiy 
private  echouls,  after  holding  a  position  of  great  respectability  am<)ng 
their  neighboiffs,  retire  with  good  fortimes.  This  excellent  state  of 
things  is  seciued,  ahiiyst  beymid  fear  of  change,  by  the  g)-i?at  position 
and  groM'ing  influence  of  thie  two  universities  in  the  country,  and  tlieir 
sending  their  most  promising  90ns  not  merely  to  the  old  fnunclations 
of  Henry  VI.  and  Edward  VI.,  and  the  great  schools  whieh  ba%-e 
Sprung  from  the  generosity  of  private  persons,  bnt  even  to  stitli  as 
have  no  resonrcea  beyond  the  capital  of  an  individual.  Ladies  have 
no  Buch  helps  and  encoui'ageiiients ;  and  perhaps  the  vei^'  first  thing 
to  be  done  in  ohler  to  improve  the  education  of  girls  is  to  add  dignity  tJi 
the  calling  of  their  teachers.  Many  accomplished  and  attractive  women 
are  at  the  head  of  girls'  schools  here  and  there  throughout  the  country: 
snch  no  doubt  enjoy  the  respect  and  afi'ection  they  deseive  from  their 
piipila  and  theii'  ftlends.  Many  charming  girls  whose  homes  are  pour, 
or  who  liave  been  left,  in  orplianliood,  go  out  a-?  governesses  for  the 
sake  of  food  and  shelter.  These  too  are  some  times— often,  let  us 
hope— treated!  with  parental  care  and  kindness.  But  it  la  impossible 
to  .say  that  their  raUiiig  is  regarded  by  the  pubhc  at  large  as  more 
than  tokmbly  Ttispectiible^ceTtainly  not  digiiLfied  Take  the  aim* 
test  of  marriage.  If  a  man — say  a  clergyman,  barrister,  or  military  ui 
naval  officer — many  a  lady  who  has  been  engaged  in  teaching,  it  is  at 
least  a  question  among  hia  friends  whether  he  may  not  have  miiile 
something  of  a  m^lliaiic/:  Certainly  he  is  not  thought  to  have 
itian-ied  well.  It  i3  probable  that  very  few  snch  marriages  occur  at 
all.  Far  ditl'erent  is  it  with  the  other  se^c.  Tutors  of  colleges  and 
schoolmasters  have,  if  one  may  venture  so  to  put  it;  the  pick  of  the 
matrimonial  iimrket  Dine  nt  a  Ikiusg  in  a  provincial  towTi  where 
there  is  a  gi-animar  school,  ami  ten  to  one  but  the  mast-er's  wife  is 
one  of  the  prettiest,  sprightli^t,  and  most  ladylilte  women  in  the 
room,  ^Vliy  there  shoidd  bei  this  difference  is  hanl  to  see.  If  a 
woman  is  ever  to  earn  her  own  luead  at  all,  sinely  there  is  no  way  so 
honoinable  as  bringing  up  children  of  her  own  sex  to  be  good  wives 
and  mothers  :  for  this,  after  all,  rightly  aad  generously  understooJ, 
is  the  true  eud  of  the  education  of  womeu.  However,  a  change  in  the 
public  estimate  of  this  matter  will  not  be  wrought  by  argument  or 


The  Edmation  of  Women. 


407 


I 

I 
I 

I 


I 


even  example,  ami  we  aro  cortiiinly  not  prepared  to  recoiumeiid  lui 
anient  youth  to  go  and  maiTy  a  ^'ovemeas  because  she  is  a  goveriieaa, 
ui  the  luipe  of  converting  tlio  little  world  of  eligible  Biiitors.  It  will 
only  be  bi'uu{i:lit  aliout  by  tlttj  alow  but  sure  exclusion  mf  unworthy 
peraons  from  the  office  of  teacher.  How  this  may  be  done  is  a  quea- 
tiou.  We  are  in  hope.3  that  a  pTOcesa  is  already  l>e-54iin  which  niay  do 
something  towards  it.  It  is  not  impossible  that  time  may  protjute 
BfjmetJiii^j  of  a  sisterhood  to  which  none  may  be  admitted  who  camiot 
prndnue  satisfaetiny-  proofs  of  litness.  not  merely  in  aequireuients^  but 
in  character,  temper,  and  mannei^.  However,  be  the  mcthud  wliiit  it 
mfty,  once  draw  a  clear  line  between  Jit  and  unfit  women,  let  the 
business  of  teadung  girls  unce  become,  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word, 
a  c'illirif/,  upon  which  those  who  have  any  worthy  view  of  their  duties 
will  not  enter  until  they  have  been  declared  by  competent  authority 
abli;  and  fit  to  be  invited  to  it,  and  it  will  henceforth  become  honour- 
able. There  will  then  be  no  ditticulty  in  finding  candidates  in  eveiy 
way  woi-thy  of  an  office  so  important  aad  so  truly  noble. 

Next,  perhaps,  in  iiuixirtance  to  taisiug  the  status  of  teachers  comes 
a  better  adapt-,Ltjoa  yf  subjects  to  the  tastes  and  capacities  of  difl'erent 
girls,  Some  tilings  no  doubt  ought  to  be  taught  to  every  girl  who  19 
til  receive  the  edncatiou  of  a  lady — -French,  for  example,  and  Uttany 
(we  a.9sume  Knglish  and  sewing),  and  perhaps  chenii-^try  enough  for  a 
Little  kitchen  lore.  But  why,  in  the  name  of  common  seuse^  should 
Italia.11  and  Gennau  be  forced  on  a  girl  who  shows  no  ability  what- 
ever Ibr  a.ccpiiri3ig  lauguages,  or  drawing  and  music  on  one  who  haa 
neither  eyei5  uor  ear&  ?  Each  may  be  tried,  and  the  rudiments,  espe- 
cially of  dmwing,  to  some  extent  mastered  ;  but  wh«u  pcoftoieucy  ig 
become  hopele.'ia,  sm-ely  it  is  better  to  give  them  up.  Probjilily  no- 
thing has  contributed  more  to  maJce  men  fight  shy  of  drawiug-iwoma 
tbiin  the  peril  of  being  compelled  to  listen  while  a  poor  girl  druma 
out  hev  little  exercise  on  the  piano  in  unsteady  time,  with  bm^gling 
tingera  and  dull  touch.  Drawing  at  any  rate  hurts  nobody  and  the 
commonest  sketches  of  scenery  are  iutereigtiug  !<>  the  ski'tcher  and 
her  friends.  Still,  ptiraued  without  prospect  of  success,  it  Ijecomes  a 
vraate  of  time.  WImt  clever  girls  require  most  is  to  be  encouraged 
tfl  cultivate  a  decided  tiiste  for  something,  just  as  clever  boys  make 
their  choice  l>eLween  classics  and  mathematics.  "Without  indeed 
being  clever,  there  ai-e  few  girls  worth  having  who  would  not  he 
■nilling  to  talie  np  aomething  or  other,  and  give  their  minds  to  it,  if 
tliey  were  only  shown  tlie  way.  No  doubt  there  are  girls,  no  less 
than  boys,  incorrigibly  idle  or  stupid,  but  they  are  probably  fewer  in 
proportion  to  the  whole  ;  and  those  who  tend  that  way  have  rather  a 
better  chance,  ilore  choice  is  seb  before  them  at  school ;  and  a  good 
many  of  tlie  tasks  to  which  they  may  turn  themaelves  are  hardly  less 


4oS 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


attractive  than  mere  aiiiusemeiits.  But  it  is  seldom  that  a  girl  has 
ttiB  right  motive  for  industiy  placed  before  lier.  All  the  eshortationa 
ske  {,'et3.  whether  from  parents,  friends,  or  teachers,  comjuunly  come  tn 
this,  that  she  is  tu  fit  herself  for  display.  The  school  exhibition  at 
the  end  of  the  half-year,  the  mistress's  party,  the  diawing-room  at 
home,  are  repi-L'seuted  to  her  as  the  arena  uf  feminine  strife,  in  ivliii'li 
she  is  to  diattmce  her  rivals,  and  her  reward  is  to  be  a  good  marriaj;c. 
The  wortl  ijw>d.,  it  must  be  obeerved,  ia  used  in  a  sense  as  thoi-otiyhly 
commerL'ial  as  on  *Cliange.  The  duty  of  cultivating  the  abilities  God 
has  given  her,  uf  Jittmg  herself  for  the  work  of  life,  is  rarely  or  ne^er 
plawd  before  her  miud,  unless  she  is  lucky  enough  t<t  hear  no\v  aud 
then  a  sensihle  sermon  at  church.  Is  it  Utopian  to  iLink  that  gruHl 
motives  will  avail  more  than  bad  ones  to  make  girls  diligent  ?  God 
forbid  !  the  world  is  in  a  poor  way  indeed  if  it  be  so.  But  we  do  not 
believe  it.  AVe  have  ouraelve;?  been  fortunate  enough  tfl  know  at  least 
one  girls  schtnol  which  has  obtained  remarkable  sueces*  in  eveiy  sensa 
of  the  word,  without  any  vicious  incitements  to  get  on  bei«g  Ip-id  before 
the  scholars.  Besides,  what  is  true  of  boys  may,  in  this  respect.  !«■ 
safely  referred  to  aa  a  guide  to  whnt  we  may  look  for  in  the  vase  of 
girls.  Few  persons  converaant  with  the  subject  will  deny  that  con- 
siderable good  has  been  effected  by  the  higher  tone  taken  with  boys 
abont  their  lessons.  The  eft'eet  ia  not  always  to  lie  seen  at  the  time, 
l>ut  comes  out  in  after  life.  Now  girU  are  not  less  ready  than,  their 
brothers  to  boar  the  voice  of  the  wise — do  not  in  ripeness  of  years 
leas  require  the  consolation  and  encouragement  of  duty  to  support 
them  nnder  the  trials  of  life.  There  is  then  no  reason  for  substitutjii;? 
inferior  motives  for  the  truest  and  highest  in  order  to  pt^rsuode  girla 
to  use  their  time  well.  Teach  theni  to  think  of  ]ileasing  neither 
tlieniselves  nor  others,  but  only  God  ;  teach  them  that  their  tastes  and 
feelings,  kept  under  due  control,  are  the  natui-al  indications  markifd 
by  His  hand  of  what  it  will  be  of  most  account  to  turn  their  niimls 
to ;  teach  them  that  if,  as  becomes  women,  they  long  to  charm  a31 
about  them  into  respect  and  love,  the  surest  way  of  doing  so  is  the 
diligent  anil  nnconseioug  discharge  of  the  duty  of  the  horn*.  We  do 
not  believe  that  any  one  teachmg  in  this  spirit  would  find  them 
unwilbng  or  unapt  scholars.  It  is  in  this  spirit  that  we  would  be 
understood  in  sayii  g  tliat  the  true  end  of  the  education  of  women  is 
making  good  wives  and  mothers.  This  is  a  very  different  thing  from 
aa^ang  that  maiTiage  ia  the  enil  of  life  to  a  woman.  For  the  rpialitios, 
and  especially  the  manners,  tlmt  make  a  good  wifw  and  mother  aro 
essential  to  every  woman,  man'ied  or  unmarried.  Why  ia  it  that  nld 
maids  are  so  often  cralibed  and  useless  creatures  ?  Often,  no  doubt, 
disappointment  has  juuch  to  do  with  it ;  yet  in  most  cases  it  will 
assuredly  be  found  to  have  arisen  from  the  want  of  womanly  graces 


Tke  Education  of  Women, 


409 


iu  youth  110  Itisa  tliaa  in  age.  T'v^■lBl■J'  une  rauat  know  old  maids  who 
are  as  usefid  in  their  generation  and  aa  much  beloved  by  those  about 
them  aa  any  inaraed  woman,  and  tliis  by  tliB  useruise  of  precisely  the 
same  virtues  eis  make  a  wilb  a  blyssiuy  to  hur  hiisbajid  and  uhiiihtn 
— prudence,  kindness,  and  a  sweet  tuDyiie.  It'  the  old  "Winchester 
motto,  "  Mamiere  makyth  man,"  be  true  for  boys,  truer  13  it  if  possible 
that  "  Manner  luakyth  ^vonifn  ;"  and  she  who.  tesiuliiug  giiis.  keeps 
this  in  viuw,  will  best  succeed  in  bringing  tliem  up  to  be  capable  of 
making  tliieir  homes  cheeiful,  ]aap(ty,  aiid  innocent,  and  to  live  to  do 
God  flervice. 

It  is  full  time,  however,  to  tuim  to  what  has  been  actually  done  to 
meet  the  just  and  reasonable  demands  of  the  sex.  The  tirst  decisive 
attempt  to  step  nut  of  the  old  routine  was  the  establislunent  of  ladies 
colleges.  These  ware  set  on  foot,  we  suppose,  with  the  view  of  open- 
ly to  giil.^  an  opportunity  of  carryiug  their  education  to  a  somew'hat 

:hei'  poiut — to  stiind,  in  short,  to  oi"dinaTj'  girls  schools  iu  somethiug 
the  same  relation  as  the  utiiversitiea  stand  to  grammar  schools.  Much 
good  has  undoubtedly  been  done  by  these  institutions.  Vet  it  may 
Ije  questioned  whether  their  system  is  fluch  as  one  would  deaire  to  see 
generally,  or  even  in  any  case,  adopted  elsewhere;  for  the  lectures 
are  chiefly  conducted  by  men,  an  arrangement  wblcU  surely  nothing 
but  the  stmdgest  necessity  can  recommeud.  There  Is  something  to 
our  mind  as  unseeroly  and  unnatural  in  g^irls  boing  taught  by  men 
ag  in  committing.'  boys  after  infancy  to  the  charge  of  women.  It  is 
incredible,  impossible  tliat  it  should  in  the  long  run  work  welL 
Howevei',  all  honour  is  due  to  the  original  founders  of  the  institutions 
which  have  been  so  largely  usefid  in  educating  (he  young  women  nl 
London,  nor  should  we  advert  to  that  part  of  their  system  which 
unsuitable  for  general  adoption,  were  it  not  a  fact  tliat  this 
psrticiilar  detad  is  just  the  one  which  is  being  widely  employed.  A\'ii 
have  Viefore  us  a  prospectus  of  a  largtj  girls  school  in  a  provincial  town, 
in  which  the  name-S  of  no  less  than  nine  aell'-styled  "professors"  are 
paraded  btjfore  pateute,  no  one  of  whom  can  boast  tlie  smaUestdistinc- 
tioa  in  any  particidar,  Now  what  possible  advantage  can  this  scIkhjI 
offer  to  outweigh  the  great  disadvantage  of  putting  men  to  teach  ^Is  ? 
Take  every-day  beaching  for  every-dny  girls,  and  the  only  tiling  they 
cannot  be  taught  by  their  own  sex  as  well  as  by  men  is  (lerhapa 
ilrawiug.  Take  languages  :  these  are  suiely  much  better  tauglit  them 
by  women  than  men.  To  employ  a  Fi-ench  mmtcr  is  especially  absurd. 
A  French  woman  ia  aa  a  rule  higher  in  the  scale  of  humanity  than  a 
French  mnn,  possesses  more  diligence,  tirnuiess,  and  sens-e  of  duty  than 
lie.  Uowevei',  even  if  it  were  otherwise,  and  graating — what  is  not 
the  case — that  girls  taught  by  men  were  clearly  and  widely  better 
than  their  competitors  In  knowledge  of  their  subjects,  we  question 

vol*  I.  2  E 


I 

H^  Londc 
hpems 


410 


The  Couicmporary  Review. 


wlietber  the  probable  loss  does  not  overbalance  all  possible  or  actual 
gain.  Then  further,  unless  there  is  some  clear  and  tinalloyed  advant- 
age to  gain,  it  does  seem  hard^  under  the  pressure  theie  \s.  now-a-days 
on  too  many  women,  and  the  great  dearth  they  find  of  becoming 
oueupations,  to  take  away  what  may  be  fairly  claimed  as  their  own. 

But  leaving  tins  question,  and  returning  to  the  detail  of  what  has 
been  done:  in  the  year  1863  application  was  made  to  the  Oxford 
delegacy  and  the  Cambridge  Syndicate  for  conducting  the  examin- 
ation of  students  not  members  of  the  universities,  to  know  Trhether 
girls  could  be  admitted  to  the  ■examinations,  in  places  where  local 
coEiimittees  would  uudertalce  to  provide  properly  for  their  reception, 
nio  answer  was  the  only  one  that  -could  he  given,  viz_,  tliat  boys  only 
were  contemplated  in  the  scheme,  and  that  before  itcoidd  be  cxtedded 
to  girls,  the  matter  must  Ije  brought  foTraaUy  and  in  a  public  manner 
before  the  univeraities.  But  the  Cambridge  examination  for  that  year 
was  ap]iroaching,  and  with  the  help  of  the  London  local  cnmuiittee  fnr 
Cambridge,  arrangements  were  made  for  conducting  an  eKaminntirin 
of  girls,  at  the  expense  and  under  the  responsibility  of  a  committ-ee 
of  ladies,  simply  as  an  experiment;  and  the  syndicate  were  asked  to 
allow  the  girls  to  use  the  examination  papers  prepnrcfl  for  ihe  Iwiys, 
and  to  submit  them  to  the  university  examiners.  The  reply  to  thi? 
request  was  that  "  the  syndicate  have  agreed  to  provide  extra  oopias 
of  the  examination  papers,  and  to  direct  their  examiner  in  Lontk»n  to 
give  these  nut  to  some  responsible  person  appointed  by  your  com- 
mittee, on  each  occasion  after  he  shall  have  given  them  mit  to  the 
boys.  The  syndicate  decline  to  orfTfr  the  exaininers  in  the  varioii'; 
subject-3  Ut  look  over  the  auswers  of  the  girls,  Imt  leave  it  to  yoiu 
committee  to  make  what  arrangements  you  please  with  the  ex- 
amiuera."  Of  coui-se  no  ditticulty  was  raised  in  tliat  quarter.  Notite 
■was  given  of  the  examination  to  sehoolniistresHes  and  others  likely  \» 
send  in  gilds.  Although  scarcely  six  weeks  were  left  for  preparation, 
eiglity-three  girls  [presented  tbemaelveH.  The  result  was  completely 
successful.  In  all  tlie  subjects  they  tonk  in  they  acquitted  thi-mselves 
qiute  a.s  <ireditably  us  the  boys,  arithmetic  alone  excepted.  That  they 
should  fail  in  arithnictic-  was  not  only  to  he  expected,  hut  inevitable. 
Besides  the  fact  that  aritlLmetic  is  more  difficidt  to  girls  tlian  boys,  it 
is  likely  that  their  teachers,  generally  speaking,  never  diciimed  i»f 
tlie  precision  and  facility  in  working  sums  required  to  pass  an  ex- 
amination in  this  subject  with  credit.  Even  with  teachers  of  boys 
the  same  was  in  some  degi-ee  the  case  at  first.  Tlie  proportion  of 
boys  rejected  in  arithmetic  was  much  greater  in  1858  than  iu  ISGS, 
and  the  improvement  was  veiy  graduid  from  year  to  j'ear.  Our  space 
dues  not  permit  us  to  make  quotations  from  the  very  intei'esting 
leport  issued  by  the  ladies  committee  on  the  occasion,  and  it  is  the 


Tke  Educatmi  of  Women, 


411 


($3  DeeJfiil  fia  it  still  may  e-osily  Im!  procured,  and  is  worth  peni,9al. 
cCmm^ed  by  this  ancc^-sa,  the  committee  proceeded  to  draw  up  a 
BBflBlorial  to  the  uuiveraities,  asking  formally  for  the  admission  of 
gu^  to  the  examiiiatLQDS.     It  was  aigned  liy  no  less  than  a  tJtousand 
teachers,  Itesides  many  distiuguiahed  persons  interested  in  the  subject, 
and  then  sent  to  the  ^-ice- chancellors  of  either  university.     Of  course 
there  waa  great  diversity  of  opinion.     Outside  the  univeraitiea  the 
proposal  vras  met  with  a  good  deal  of  ridicule,  of  no  account  except 
that  it  was,  in  several  cases,  of  a  nature  to  be  insulting  to  the  feeUnga 
ffii  TV'omen.     Within  Cambridge  itself — and  we  believe  the  same  to 
Kftve  been  the  case  at  Oxford — there  was  uothing  of  this  kind.     In- 
deed, the  memorial  was  listened  tfl  in  the  fairest  spirit  on  all  himds. 
The  opponents  of  the  measure  appear  chiefly  to  have  been  influenced 
by  two  considerations ;  fii-st,  that  it  would  injure  tho  prosperity  of  the 
boys  examinations,  and  secondly,  that  they  could  not  be  conducted 
jn  such  a  manner  aa  to  be  profitable  to  the  girls  themaeives.     AU 
fetprrased  willingness  to  do  whatever  could  be  shown  to  he  proper 
fiw  the  university  to  do  with  due  cpusideratton  for  all  the  interuata 
involved.     lu  abort,  the  question  was  met  in  the  spirit  in  which  it 
Hiugfat  be  exjrected  to  be  met  by  educated  men  who  knew  what  they 
owed  to  mothei^,  sisters,  or  wives.     Its  supporters,  on  the  other  hand, 
eemed  to  attribute  much  weight  to  the  argument  of  the  memorial, 
at  women  strongly  felt  the  want  of  some  outward  standard  by  which 
SAst  the  value  of  tlieir  work,  and  that,  if  the  univeraities  refused  to 
thorn  in  this  particular,  there  appeared  to  be  no  body  existing,  or 
ely  to  be  created,  in  the  country  to  which  they  could  apply.     Tlie 
th  of  this  allegation  is  apparent  enough.    There  is  probiibly  nothing 
□  w^liich  girls  have  been  worse  treated  than  their  exaniiiiationa  at  the 
;tl  of  the  school  year    They  are  in  most  cases  a  mere  display,  eniliiig 
with  a  flourish  oi  trumpets  at  the  bi-enking-np  party.    Tlieix)  lies  before 
us  a  report  of  the  e.xamination  of  a  large  girls  school.    It  is  one  chorus 
■f  praises  from  end  to  end.     One  examiner  finds  that  "  though  the 
inspection  of  instructional  results  only  was  our  province,  yet  moral 
characteristics  are  constantly  and  clearly  revealed  in  the  course  of 
intelleftajd  operations."     He  proceeds  to  "  hazard  the  opiuion  "  that  in- 
iss  X.'s  establialtment  "headwork  is  not  neglected,  yet  does  not 
onnpnlize  too  exclusive  an  interest ;  or  rather,  perhaps,  that  it  is  so 
nducted  as  to  promote  the  still  higher  objects  of  our  being."    Then 
le  finds  the  style  of  the  girls  English  "dear,  simple,  vigorous,  and 
expressive."     But  he  rises,  to  his  highest  ecstasies  at  the  rit^d  voce: — 


I 


"  Speaking  gent-rolly,  tho  int^lii^^meu,  ttie  readinesa,  the  abundance  of 

infonualton,  the  atmplc,  luitUTal,  and  fhar  sUitemeUt  of  what  was  known, 

the  not  lcs3  straightforward  admijssion  of  what  was  not  knywn — tho 

.cd  interest  throughoat  a  loug  courae  of  queBtioning  and  cross-qucs- 


417 


Tlie  Contemporary  Review. 


tiouiog,  nin>ii?  \\.  nllijgciher  a  pleusui-e  to  do  what  is  often  suflficietitly  irkioino, 
to  yo  oil  formulBtini,'  a  string  of  tLuestious  for  homs  together." 

Hitppy  exiiniiuer!  and  assuredly  mosfc  wunderfiil  pupUa!  We  appre- 
}iend  thiit  the  reports  of  tlie  Jocal  esamiiiatioTis  are  uot  likely  to 
ajj])n3acli  siicii  fine  ftTiting  as  tliig,  ur  to  bestijw  any  such  suunding 
praises.  Nor  ilo  wt;  believe  that  girls  ore  so  wantiug  in  ctimmou  seme 
as  tti  wish  it.  Tlieir  feeliags  appear  to  lie  tndy  stat^3d  by  Mr. 
Plumptre.  .Sptakiny;  of  the  error  ut  the  outside  public  in  thinkiii^ 
the  "predominant  motive  of  girls  in  Tvishing  fur  examinations  to  Iw 
that  tliey  nmy  obtain  some  njaterial  benefit  either  aa  govern^&es  or  iu 
some  otUiir  position  in  which  they  waat  a  testimonial  to  fall  back 
upon,"  he  pi-oeeeds : — 

"  My  belief  is  that  that  motive  fomia  a  suhordiua'tG  eleaicut  m  the  lit'sire 
of  tlif  girl  t<t  bf  examineiL  I  hnve  ■vviitrchcd  th(j  progrtse  of  t.ht;3<>  thing's, 
and  I  tind  Ihnt  thoae  who  most  dijttire  to  do  w«U  are  not  those  who  are  trying 
to  gain  certififiites  of  competency  for  any  profeagionnl  purpose,  but  th.Me 
who  ftTfi  lociking  fotwarti  to  a  life  of  private  iiaefulntas.  They  desire  know- 
led^i?  ftiifl  3e]f-knowlodgo  for  their  o^iTii  sakes.  They  wi&h  their  knrivted^o 
not  to  be  hdlliiM',  aiiiK'rficial,  or  merely  ornamental,  but  solid  and  suIj- 
atftutiaL" 

Tliat  these  "vvords  express  the  true  istate  of  the  cose  may  be  inferred 
not  merely  from  nbservatiou  of  facts,  but  from  the  slightest  knoii'- 
ledye  of  the  feminine  character.  There  is  iwthittg  a  wormin,  at  wiy 
i-ate  a  young  woman,  of  more  than  the  sludlowest  capacity  detests 
more  than  a  yliuni;  and  of  all  shams,  thu  lauguityu  of  luitnje  compli- 
ment is  most  offensive  to  her,  for  the  very  reason  that  her  nature 
teaclies  her  to  covet  the  approval  and  praise  of  men,  and  shariiens  litir 
to  bu  keen  in  detecting  tlie  false  ring  of  flattery.  Another  considtri- 
lion  that  probably  weighed  mucli  with  the  promoters  of  the  scheme 
was  a  deep  icimviction  that  the  university  is  fully  as  much  intereetud 
in  the  proper  education  of  the  youtli  of  thti  country  in  their  own 
homes,  and  in  their  earliest  years,  as  in  the  schools  she  examines, 
Therefore  they  maintain  she  is  by  no  means  stepping  out  of  her  pi"oper 
province  in  anytbinj;  she  tan  do  to  cherish  and  promote  the  gooil  atit- 
ture  of  fiitnie  wi^'es  and  nrnthc'iB.  The  issue  of  the  affair  was,  that 
M'hile  Oxford  rejected  the  aehciue  altogether,  CiUnbridge  accepted  it  by 
way  ftf  trial  for  a  period  of  tln-ee  years.  Various  rules  were  laid  down 
to  insure  the  iiroper  conduct  of  the  exaniinatinu  at  every  place  iu 
which  it  miyht  be  lield.  It  is  to  be  entirely  managed  by  ladies.  No 
list  of  names  is  to  be  publishetl ;  but  every  girl  Tvlif»  passes  with  creth't 
will  receive'a  ceitilieate  signed  by  the  Vice- Chancellor,  find  if  slie  suc- 
ceeds in  dist-mguisiiiiig  heretdf  in  any  subject,  it  will  lie  nientidueil  in 
that  document.  One  examination  has  been  alieady  held.  One  hwi- 
dred  and  tlurly-one  ^^ii'la  presented  themselves  at  six  places, — Louden, 


The  Educaihn  of  Woineu. 


413 


Brijilitoii,  Bristol,  Cambridge,  Maueliester,  and  Sheffield.     Nothing 
Wiild  be  more  sfttisfactory  thaa  the  way  in  wliieli  the  week  of  exa- 
mination passed  nfl".     The  reports  of  the  local  examiners  "were  quite 
tuiform  on  this  jKjiiit.     Tlie  local  laditis'  cummitteta  bad  done  their 
Work  exce&diii-ily  well.     Every  arrangemeut  bad  been  maile  for  the 
Comfort  and  jiri^acy  of  the  gii'Ia.     They  had  themselves  lieeu  quiet, 
punctual,  and  indiistrious,  mid  had  strictly  attondad  to  the  re-julfitions 
b  every  particular.    Their  papers  were  sent  up  in  fnlly  as  good  order  as 
those  of  the  hoys,     Tbb  of  itself  is  a  most  important  result,  aixd  "will, 
it  ia  hoped,  convince  tuany  of  those  who  doubted  whether  aii  exaiiiina- 
iion  of  girla  could  be  auitftbly  conducted.     We  believ-s  the  same  is 
found  to  be  the  case  by  the  Univei-sity  of  Edioburyh.    There,  too, 
girls  as  well  as  hoya  are  adruitted  to  tlie  local  exaiuiuntiong  held  by 
tlie  university,  and  we  heheve  with  the  same  encoiu'Ofjin^  experieJice. 
t  may  lie  safely  aasunied,  therefore,  that  there  is  nntliLiig  to  appre- 
lend  on  that  score.     At  the  same  time,  the  unpvetedL'uteil  iiicitiase 
n  the  number  of  boys — nearly  fifty  per  cent.  f»u  last  year — altc^ther 
mt^  an  end  to  the  fears  Sfime  entertaiuKd,  that  the  admiHsina  of  i;;ir!s 
mifibt  make  the  examinations  impopidaT  with  them. 

The  ^enend  result  of  the  examination  was  as  follows :  Oat  of  eighty 
wiiior  candidates,  tive  were  abi^eiit,  twenty-eiij;ht  f.iiled,  forty-seven 
mssed,of  whom  eij^ht  obtained  marks  of  special  distinction,  Of  lifty- 
me  juniors,  nine  failed,  one  was  absent,  foity-oue  passed,  of  whom  six 
ained  ilistinctions.  We  subjoin  a  few  details  that  may  interest  the 
B»der,  referrinu;  him  for  fuller  information  to  the  elaborate  report 
Uid  tables  published  by  Messrs.  I!i\-in^'ton.  We  take  those  in  which 
Fomon  are  most  concerned.  In  arithmetic,  Sio  disastrous  in  1863. 
irhen  out  of  forty  senior  candidates  thiity-four  failed  in  that  subject, 
his  year  only  oue  seuitir  and  two  juniors,  were  i-ejected.  Only  one 
(enior  and  two  juniors  failed  iu  geography;  oue  junior  and  no 
lenior  in  histoiy.  Inttced,  tlie  a<;,'gregate  of  fadm-ea  on  the  wiiole 
rer>'  mueh  surjirised  the  examiners,  each  of  whom,  exceptinji'  those 
u  religious  kuowled;;;B,  seemed  to  have  few  in  his  own  liejiart- 
Bcut.  It  ap\>ears  Ili  ha\'e  arisen  chiefly  from  the  girls  not  under- 
rtandiny  elearly  that,  in  oreler  to  jiaas  on  the  whole,  they  must  puss 
cspectably  iu  at  least  two  or  three  sectlims.  Thi;  avera^'e  marks 
(btiiined  were  extremely  creditable,  and  some  girls  got  liigh  numbers. 
Itus  one  ^ii\  sis-sevenths  of  the  full  amount  in  history,  another  four- 
fths  ill  {geography.  Cut  they  were  most  fortunate  in  Shaks-pere'a 
'Tt-mpeat."  Ou  this  play,  a  paper  was  set  well  adapted  to  test  the 
lonmluess  of  such  kuowle<lge  as  yonth.?  nii-iht  be  ex^iected  to  possess 
lot  merely  of  that,  but  of  other  plays  of  Sliakspeve,  aud  of  the  Englisli 
ougue.  About  thirty  girl:a  fcriud  it ;  almost  all  with  credit  to  them- 
lelves,  some  very  successfully,  and  oue  succeeded  in  att*ioinn;  a  higher 


4^4 


Ths  Contemporary  Review. 


proportiun  of  the  full  marks  than  auy  of  her  coiupetiLors  of  either 
aex-— seventy-two  per  ceut. 

In  rt-ligiuuB  knowledge  the  girls  were  not  so  suecessftil  as  their 
"vvork  in  18Cy  led  us  to  cxjject.  Of  the  seniot'3  twenty -live,  of  the 
juniora  uiylit,  fnilei-l  in  this  section.  Only  one  succeeded  in  distin- 
guiahiug  hei-seli'.  The  examiners  repoi'teil  thnt  their  knowledge  of 
Scnptm-e  was,  yenemlly  sjieakiiig',  good,  hut  thut  they  appeared  ti> 
have  Ixeen  vyi-y  imperfectly  iustructed  in  the  other  suhjects,  particii- 
lai'ly  the  Lituryy.  Fnurteen  nltttirLither  took  in  Latin.  The  examiners 
sjienk  of  the  rentatkahle  act:ut"acy  of  tlieu'  woik,  and  suy  that  it  will 
bear  comparison  with  that  of  the  hoys.  In  French,  a9  ini^ht  he  ex- 
pected, the  girls  distingiutihed  thenisehes.  Their  avt;rage  perforiii- 
auees  wiire  <iood ;  many  ohtaiiied  marks  of  special  credit,  and  tine  got 
seven-eighths  of  the  whole  nmnher,  the  iiighest  pomt  I'eached  by  any 
one.  Thirty-four  went  in  for  dmwing.  Of  one  the  exsuiniier  I'eports 
that  "  she  excelled  all  other  candidates  iu  tht*  colour  sketch,  which  Wiw 
admirable,  as  wius  jdso  her  model  drawing."  Se%'eral  other  girls  also 
obtained  marks  of  (.listinution.  One  regrets  that  su  few  girls  attempttd 
botany,  and  none  with  iimch  Buceiess.  It  is  tu  be  hoped  tliat  more  of 
tbum  will  turn  their  mimls  to  this  ladylike  accomplishment,  and  will 
attend  to  the  sensible  remark  ul'  the  examiner  in  the  subject,  that  tlie 
students  "  apjjenied  to  derive  their  linnwledge  from  maninils,  ami  not 
the  study  of  nature."  Botany  can  only  be  learned  in  the  fields.  In 
musiu  rather  more  than  half  the  girls  who  went  in  did  their  work 
ci-editahly,  of  whom  five  diatinguished  themselves.  Here  we  will 
close  the  list  Enough  has  been  s.aiil  to  convince  the  reader  that 
girls  are  taught  better  thtui  he  jterhaps  tlKaight,  and  that  examinations 
of  this  sort,  as  is  alio\ni  in  the  noteworthy  inKt.ance  of  arithmetic,  do 
at  least  bring  out  weak  points  in  teaching,  nutl  in  some  cases  lead 
tho  way  to  aniendjnent  We  will  oidy  add  that  it  is  beartily  to 
he  wished  that  the  boya  may  in  future  imitate  their  sistera  in  one 
particular,  their  good  English.  Their  answcra  were  alnifist  without 
exception  sti'oight forward  and  to  the  point,  clearly  statcil,  and  without 
any  attempts  at  fine  Milting;  while  at  the  same  time,  many  of  them 
gave  sme  promise  of  that  pretty  c^uickuess  of  wit  which  is  one  of  the 
brightest  charms  of  a  gentlewoman. 

Thomas  Mabicby. 


THEODOEE   PAEKER  AND   AMERICAN 
UNITARIANISM. 


n«  CellteM   W«rli*  qf  Tkeodore  Parker.     Edited  br  FlUHeM  Foweb 
C4IBU.    Tn-Blre  Vuluiava.    LuriIltu;  Tiilliuec,    IB.''':!— Iddi: 

Tlie   Li/e  itnil   Ciirraimnil/tiri-   a/    Ttu^'ltre    Ffrlicr.     Bj   JdBN   Wiis*. 
Two  VoLuum.     LciuJon  ;  Xonipruuuk.    ISW. 


rlia3  Ijeen  said  that  religious  thought  «b5;s  and  flows  between 
I'elayius  aud  Augustinu;  aud  religious  history  coiifiniia  the  truth 
ul'  the  sayiug;  if  oue  ■jenemtion  has  magnified  over-rauch  the  luitutul 
powers  of  man,  the  next  too  often  denies  Ids  powers  altogcthei', 
aud  makes  him  the  slave  of  au  arbitrary  will ;  ii"  one  yerieratiuu 
is  eager  to  define  every  minute  or  transcendent  puiiit  of  doctrine, 
the  next  ^'etierally  experiences  t];e  ebb-tide  uf  feeling,  repudiates  the 
carefully  drawn  "Coufesaions"  of  their  fathers,  and  exalts  philan- 
thropy and  the  pagan  virtues.  Thus  the  Hnjlland  of  the  pretSsians 
who  drew  np  thi?  canons  of  Ttort  hi-ctime  in  ft  generation  or  two 
the  refuge  of  oppressed  tliinkera  from  e\'eiy  nation  In  Eiu'opt: ;  the 
land  of  Vitringa  gave  a  home  to  Bayle;  Calvin'a  own  Geneva,  in  the 
middle  of  the  <2ighteenth  century,  won  the  praise  of  liberality  from 
Didei-ot  and  Vtiltaire  ;*  and  in  ttie  New  England  State  of  Moasa- 
chiisetta,  the  cliauge  ironi  the  vigorous  Puritaaisra  of  the  seventtienth 
to  tlie  free  and  easy  woraldp  of  the  niueteeiitli  century  ha,5  been  at 
least  as  remarkable.  It  m  of  this  that  we  have  now  to  sptiak  moi* 
pai-ticuloriy. 

The  New  England  colonies  were  fouiidedf  aa  is  well  known,  by  men 
flying  from  "  king's  aud  prektea'  rage ;"  hence  it  is  too  hastily 
toneluded  that  they  sought  in  new  lands  nothing  more  than  freedom 
•  See  thfl  "  UngycJoptfdie,"  under  "  GeuBye." 


4i6 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


to  worship  Gad  acconUng  to  tlieir  consnience.  It  is  no  doubt  true 
that  they  sought  a  refuge  beyond  the  juiistiictiou  of  Star- Chamber 
or  ili^Hi  Comniipsinn — a  place  where  their  humble  assemblies  should 
be  free  tVonu  the  iiitvusioii  of  uoustiiblo  or  apparitor;  but  to  estnblisli 
a  ixility  where  nil  meu  should  enjoy  the  same  freedom  of  worship 
wliich  they  desii-ed  for  tbeniselves,  was  altogether  beyond  tlieir 
thoughts :  they  wished  to  worship  God  fi-eely  in  a  eeitnin  way.  biU 
it  waa  very  far  iroiu  their  inteution  to  tolerate  within  their  bowlers 
any  other  form  of  worship  than  that  which  the  lesdiiig  men  m 
Massftchusett-s  thought  the  best :  let  those  who  refused  to  tonfomi  to 
the  oae  allowed  form  seek  some  other  land  ;  for  them  Massachusetts 
irfls  no  place.  The  eiu'ly  hiatorj'  of  the  colony  is  full  of  illustrations 
of  thi.i  priuciple. 

While  the  Pil'jn'im  Fathers  still  inhabited  mud  ho^•els  and  log 
caliina  on  the  shore  of  iTassachusetts  Bay,  pro'vision  was  made  for 
the  religious  conatitution  cd'  the  colony.  It  was  of  the  siuiplest  kind ; 
each  community  waa  at  lihertj"  tu  form  itself  into  a  cbiirrh,  without 
the  interference  of  any  other  ehundi,  or  indeed  of  any  jwiwer  from 
without;  tlie  inember3  of  each  church  choso  its  otficers,  and  the 
ministers  i^efiuiiwl  no  orjiimtinn  but  such  hs  the  community  gave 
them ;  they  used  no  litur;,'y,  and  the  atom  sun|ilicity  of  the  Calvinistic 
ritual  was  made  mure  simple  still  in  the  American  -wihtemess.  All 
these  congregations  were  cast  on  one  model,  ami  from  tiiis  no  devia- 
tion was  exjieeteil.  They  had  fled  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  enith 
from  cap  and  aui-pliee,  rocliel  and  ehimere ;  no  rag  of  the  accursed 
thiiif,''  should  hcuccfoith  be  endured  among  them.  They  soon  carried 
their  principles  into  practiee.  Two  of  the  most  influential  memlici-s 
of  tiie  C'olcmiiil  Cmmeil  gathered  about  them  a  little  eompany.  in 
which  the  "Common  I'rayer  worship"  was  upheld;  they  were  seized 
aH  erimiuLds,  and  put  on  boaril  a  slop  returning  to  England,  the  ser- 
vices wMcli  they  had  rendered  the  colony  weighing  little  s^faiuBt  the 
TVToug  which  they  had  done  lu  using  the  3er\'ice  of  the  hat-ed  Church 
of  England.  Brave  Roger  Williams,  who  maintained  the  daring  pro- 
posituni  that  it  was  not  the  duty  of  civil  mugistratea  to  prescribe 
particular  forms  of  faith  fur  the  jieople,  was  cast  out  as  an  exUe,  and 
fomided,  in  the  year  following  his  banishment  (ICStJ),  a  "shelter  for 
pei-sons  distressed  for  conscience,"  at  Providence  in  lihude  Islarnl. 
The  floor  Quakers,  who  peneti'ated  into  Massachusetts  some  tM-enty 
years  later,  were  sentenced  tiD  whipping,  to  boring  through  the  tongwe, 
even  to  death  itself,  as  the  penalty  for  their  intrusion  into  the  realms 
of  rm'itLtni^m*  ^H 

Thus  did  the  people  nf  JfassachusetU  endeavour  to  maintaia  tlw^ 
jirineiple  which  they  had  laid  down,  as  early  as  ItJSl,  as  one  of  their 

•  Boncroft'a  "Hiitory  of  the  Umted  StaCcB/'  i.  338, 


Tlicodore  Parker  and  A^ncrican  Ututarianistn.      41 7 


I 
I 

I 

I 

I 
I 

I 


Inn  [lame  ntal  laws,  "that  no  man  aliall  be  aiLuitted  to  the  ireedoui  of 
this  body  politic,  but  sucU  as  are  membera  of  some  of  the  cliurchea 
witlim  the  limits  d1'  the  same."*  As  the  churches  were  ail  uf  one 
kind — the  Independent  or  Congregatioual,— iiud  as  the  mayistratea 
insisted  on  the  attendance  of  every  man  at  public  worship,  religious 
liberty  was  reduced  to  a  miuinmin.  No  doubt  the  fnnn  f>f  service 
estiiblished  left  freei*  play  fur  the  iudividualities  ot  the  several 
ministers  than  a  complete  liturgy  would  have  done;  but  as  the  civil 
magistrates  took  uiKiri  tht']n  to  repress  what  they  considered  heresy, 
the  limits  vi-itbin  which  thought  was  alluwed  to  rauj^e  were  sufti- 
ciently  narrow. 

The  effects  of  the  principle,  that  none  but  members  of  the  chuTcli 
could  hold  civil  othces  or  vote  at  elections,  were  not  long  itj  becunjing 
apparent.  This  ptovieion  was  perhaps  not  more  objectiomible  in 
theory  than  the  Test  Acts  which  were  maintained  until  a  compara^ 
tjvely  recent  period  in  Knglaitd ;  but  its  working  was  different.  The 
Test  Acts  applied  only  to  a  comparatively  small  number  of  nffice- 
Ijearers;  ailinission  t^  the  Holy  Communion  was  at  least  a  simyde 
act — only  notorious  oft&nders  could  he  vepelled  ;  it  was  laid  upon 
■every  man's  conscience  to  judge  whether  he  was  fit  to  approach  ao 
sacred  an  onliuance.  In  Massachusetts,  a  very  difierent  state  of 
tliuigs  prevailed ;  a  man  was  presumed  to  be  bad  until  hs  jn'oved 
himself  to  be  good ;  an  applicant  for  membership  of  a  church  must 
furnish  evidence  of  his  fitness — he  must  give  in  an  "experience,"  an 
account  of  what  has  passed  st  tlie  most  momentoUR  crisis  uf  his  life 
in  the  inmost  recesses  of  hia  soul ;  he  must  be  "propounded" — that 
\%  Ida  application  must  lie  aimounced  fmm  the  jmlpit,  and  Ids  admiS' 
sion  deferred  until  the  members  of  the  congregation  shouki  have 
ac4|uai»ted  tiiemselves  with  his  manner  of  life.  Tlten,  being  found 
blameleas,  nud  not  till  then,  lie  was  admitted  into  communion  with 
llie  irdnu'L'li.  Thu  eH'uct  of  this  system  was,  that  many  men  of  great 
intelligence,  of  good  character,  and  of  imimpeached  orthodoxy,  were 
excludetl  from  valuable  civU  privilegeB.+ 

It  is  uot  to  be  supposed  that  auch  a  system  aa  this  could  long  be 
nmintained  in  its  integrity  in  a  society  rapidly  growing  in  numbers, 
wealth,  and  intelligence  ;  in  fact,  as  early  as  the  yenr  Ififi^,  symptoms 
of  wavering  [aaiiilested  tliemselves.  About  that  time  it  came  to^be 
ftlloweil  that  children  bajitized  in  infancy  should  be  reputed  members 
of  that  church  to  which  tlieir  parents  belonged,  though  they  nmst 
still  I'undsh  cviflence  of  "regeuemtion"  1>efare  they  were  admitted  to 
the  Lonl's  Table.  In  about  forty  yeara  more,  a  still  more  important 
change  was  made;  for  it  was  admitted  in  many  churches  that,  as  it 
Was  impossible  to  decide  with  any  degree  of  certainty  whether  a  man 

*  Bnncfofl,  i.  271.  t  Bairf'a  "  Efligion  in  tho  United  States,"  4c.,  pp-  618  tl  tag. 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


were  "  regenerated"  or  not,  any  applicatit  sliould  lie  aduiitted  against 
-whom  no  acandkl  or  heresy  was  proved.  The  coiij;i*egation9  had  to 
clioose  lietween  hecominjj  snui-Il  fi-nd  ckise  sects  and  int-liKliiig  fl  Lirgt^r 
numljer  ib  h  luo^et-  boml ;  and  they  chose  the  lattei-  alternative.* 

Duting  the  first  half  of  the  ei^'hteeiith  century,  the  geneml  tendency 
of  religious  feeling  in  America  ^-as  towards  the  same  dull  level  of 
decorous  loorality  wliich  was  prevalent  at  that  period  in  Europe. 
Men  went  contentedly  about  their  daily  tasks,  sat  in  churches,  and 
heard  semions,  without  mooting  the  deep  questions  whicli  had  seemed 
so  vital  to  theii'  forefathers.  Thii  old  -views  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers 
were  little  heard  of,  and  an  unavowed  Pelaj^iauisni  seems  to  have 
risen  up  in  the  New  England  churchea,  when  Lhey  were  roused  from 
their  torpor  by  the  loud  voiees  of  Jouathan  Edwards  sun!  Geoij^e 
Whitfield.  The  influence  of  these  remarkahle  men,  in  the  middle  of 
the  last  century,  brought  Liick  mauy  cliurclies  into  the  position  which 
they  had  held  u  century  esirlier;  the  distinction  between  the  regene- 
rate and  imregenerate  was  re-established  in  all  its  vigour,  and  all 
who  did  not  pronounce  a  shibboleth  satiafactoiy  to  the  Cahiuistic 
churches  Avere  once  more  declared  to  be  heira  of  pbvdition.  The 
effect  was  no  doubt  to  arouse  thoughts  nf  things  Di^dne.  to  lead  to 
greater  hoKneas  of  life,  in  those  who  accepted  this  teaching ;  but  on 
tiLose  chui-Ldies  which  still  stood  witliout  the  magic  circle  the  etlect 
was  very  different.  There,  the  proselytism  of  the  new  teachers, 
their  eiigerneas  to  exclude  from  their  communion  all  who  hud  not 
passed  through  the  prescribed  stages  of  expericuce,  seemed  but 
passion  and  censtiriousness ;  in  flying  from  these  faults  they  fell  more 
and  more  into  dull,  self-contented  ajiathy.  Tlie  Puritana  had  at  least 
niaiutained.  uiuler  whatever  errors  of  thought  and  expression,  tlie 
need  of  God's  grace  for  man's  justiiication  and  aanctification :  the 
newer  school  siillered  men  to  forget  that  the  Son  and  the  i>pirit  had 
anything  to  do  in  the  work  of  man's  salvation.  In  lact,  during  the 
latter  half  of  tlie  eighteenth  century,  a  large  number  of  the  Xe'ii^H 
England  churches  were  gliding,  for  the  most  part  unconsciously.-^ 
towards  that  flat,  negative  Unitariauism  which  whs  then  previJenl  in 
many  parts  of  Europe.  Thouglitful  men  here  and  there  observed  this 
progress,  but  it  was  naturftlly  not  obxious  to  those  who  were  tliem- 
selves  moving  in  the  sBmi?  direction,  Jn  the  early  yeni'S  mf  thig  nine- 
teenth centm-y,  a  (few  hooka  appeared  whidi  nneii^ni vocally  repudiated 
the  doctrine  of  tike  Trinity;  a  few  ministers  were,  suspected  of  a  like 
repudiation;  it  became  increasingly  difhcidt  to  enrnrce  Oalvinistic 
orthodoxy  on  candidates  for  the  ministry' ;  yet,  so  quiet  and  uuper- 
ceived  was  the  prngj-ess  of  change,  that  it  wns  with  genuine  sur- 
prise that  many  wortliy  men  learned  from  Belshani'a  "  Memoirs  of 

•  Buid,  p.  Al^l. 


Theodore  Parker  mid  American  Umtarianism.      419 


I 


I 


Ijmlse)',"  puliUalieci  in  London  ia  1812,  that  their  miiiistera  were 
accounted  Uiiitariaii. 

Now  Wits  Bueii  tlie  weakness  of  the  Cungrej^atioiial  system.  So  loJijt; 
as  all  the  meirihers  of  .1  coiiimuiiity  were  of  tme  mind — an  lony;  as  all 
were  agreed  tliat  it  was  part  of  the  duty  of  tlie  civil  power  to  exter- 
minate Leresy,— stt  long,  nnd  ni)  longer,  it  wa.5  possible  to  maintain 
the  same  standard  of  orthodoxy  iu  the  nominally  independeut 
churches  si:ittten!d  thmujjhout  a  state.  When  the  prossuro  of  a  very 
rigorous  puhlic  opinion  and  of  the  secular  arm  wsia  once  withdraM-u, 
as  in  fact  it  ivius  in  the  eij^hteeiitli  centuiy,  each  congregation  took  its 
owa  way  in  matters  of  doctrine  and  discipline  ;  there  was  nothing  to 
hinder  tlie  minister  of  one  i)avisli  from  preaching  the  stern  doctrines 
of  Edwards  and  Whitfield,  and  |)rndnciug  all  thu  strange  phenoiueiia 
of  a  religious  "reWval"  while  his  neighbour  was  expounding  from  the 
pnipil  the  principles  of  Seuecu  or  Locke,  and  deprecating — often  not 
without  very  gotxl  reason — above  all  things  excitement  and  censo- 
riousneas-  There  was  no  way  of  compelling  churches  wliich  had 
becnme  Unitarian  to  part  with  their  Uaita-Han  pastors,  nor  could 
orthudoK  ministers  or  congregations  be  compelled  to  roccigniae  a 
Unitannu  as  a  Christian  minister,  or  his  church  aa  a  Christian  church. 
The  effect  was,  that  though  the  "  Cieneral  Convention  of  Congrega- 
tional Ministers"  continued  to  meet,  matnly  on  account  of  certain 
eudowjiients,  once  a  year,  as  if  still  forming  one  body,  they  wore  in 
fact  divided  into  two  hostile  camps ;  an  adlierent  of  one  party  would 
not  permit  a  minister  who  belonged  to  the  other  to  occupy  his  pulpit 
on  a  Sunday.  In  Boston  in  particular,  in  1812,  all  the  Congrega- 
tional churches,  with  only  two  or  tlu-ee  ijxceptiona,  had  become 
Unitarian  ;*  and  in  various  part.^  of  Xew  England  were  tu  be  found 
prohably  nearly  a  hundred  more,  tlie  greater  number  in  the  eastern 
part  of  Massachnsetfcj.  Wherever  the  majority  of  a  parish  became 
L'nilariiui,  tiiey  obtained  possession  of  the  endowmenta  of  the  chui'ch, 
which  M'ere  in  sonic  cases  considerable.  Harvard  CoUeyo,  too, 
founded — to  their  honour  be  it  said — by  the  very  first  generation  of 
I'nritan  aettlera  in  Massachusetts,  passed  into  tlie  hands  of  the  now 
dominnnt  riiitaimu  party.  Thus  a  mighty  change  had  passed  over 
tiie  land  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers.  After  the  fitful  fever  of  Puritan  xeal 
and  Calviuistic  revival^  religion  slept  tlie  sleep  of  Pelagian  dulnesa,  if 
not  of  P^picurean  indifiereiice. 

The  plm.se  of  religion  which  ciuistituted  the  prevalent  Uuitariauism 
m  New  Kngland  at  the  beginniojg  of  the  present  century  is  not  euHy 
to  define.  In  the  first  place  there  was  iu  it,  running  through  all  its 
divL'sions,   the   anti-C'alviuistic   feeling.      AbhoiTcuce   of  Calvinistic 

*  Ii  ought  tQ  be  iColed  thu  thu  proportion  no  loni;cr  Lolda;  [h«  Truuturisn  Con^ega- 
ISimnluts  arv  now  edl  to  b«  tsore  numcToua  Uiaa  tliQ  UuJtiiriaa. 


420 


The  CoiUcmporary  Review, 


rM 


doctrines  witli  respect  to  the  fallen  condition  of  man  and  tBe  na 
of  redemption ;  disgiist  at  the  narrowness  which  claimed  the  title  of 
*'  Christian  "  only  for  a  few  exclusive  sects  or  coteries,,  Jind  denied  it  tO^H 
all  the  M-orld  besides;  shrinking  from  the  vehement  appeals  to  excitej^l 
feelinij;,  and  the  frequent  denuuciations  of  never-ending  torment,  wliicli 
formed  too  large  a  part  of  the  popular  teaching  in  many  congrt^- 
tion3, — these  were  poweri'id  incentives  to  tJie  fonuation  of  a  creed  free 
from  the  peculiarities  of  I'redcatinarianism,  This  dislike  of  jx^pnlar 
Calviiiisni  colours  the  writings  of  American  Unitarians  of  all  shaJua 
of  opinion;  indeed  it  woidd  almost  aeem  as  if  ao  me  of  them  had  nevi 
heard  of  any  f'orni  of  Christianity  preeecUnf^  their  own  sect  hnt  CoH' 
gregatioual  C'alvinisui :  the  doctrines  of  a  suet  ar«  to  them  the  whole' 
of  ])oprdar  Christianity.  Then  there  came  in  aid  of  tliLs  powerful 
reaction  tlie  sensnons  philosophy  whidi  wius  almost  evei';\"where  p 
valent  in  tiie  age  imniediattdy  preceding  the  French  Itevolntiiin  ;  thi 
desire  for  eleainess  and  ilehuiteuesa  even  at  the  ex[>enae  of  depth  aw 
comprehensiveness  ;  the  m  isli  to  base  hnman  society,  wliether  civil  or 
reli^dous,  upon  certain  grttat  truths,  acknowledged  by  niiui  as  man,  imd 
independent  of  sects  and  piirtias.  The  prevalence  of  thoughts  of  lliis 
kind  in  thu  minds  of  men  aided  the  formation  of  a  society  in  which, 
while  the  name  of  Christianity  was  retained,  the  peculiarities  oi' 
Christianity  were  made  a.?  little  prominent  as  possilde.  A  rel^on 
which  confined  \\s>  creed  to  the  ficknowleilgnient  of  Gotl  as  the 
creator  of  the  world,  and  of  the  Lord  Jeans  Clnist  tia  a  great  teacher, 
wdin  had  inculcated  a  paire  morality  in  a  popular  style,  and  thrown 
considei-able  light  on  the  doctrine  of  the  immnrtidity  of  the  sou],  this 
"was  the  kind  of  religion  whie;h  was  acceptable  tc>  men  of  the  world, 
men  of  sense,  men  of  enlightenment,  in  the  latter  years  of  the  last 
century.  This  school  did  not  reject  miriicles;  on  the  contrary,  its 
tendency  was  decidedly  towards  that  "evidential"  metiiod  of  which 
Psdey's  "  Evidences  "  is  the  liighest  example :  but  the  system  which 
they  held  to  be  proved  by  miiiicles  was  little  satisfying  to  the  co: 
science,  and  had  too  often  but  little  eflect  upon  the  life.  Then,  agai 
the  muks  of  Unitariardsm  were  swelled  by  a  considerable  number 
the  class — never  a  amall  one— uf  church-goers  who  have  no  distinct 
religious  convictions.  To  persons  of  this  class  a  very  slight  change 
which  inleiferes  with  their  comfortable  routine  is  intolarable ;  the 
change  of  a  custom  or  a  vestment  ivill  drive  th^ui  fi-om  the  church 
where  they  have  eat  contentedly  for  half  a  lifetime ;  hut  so  long  as 
they  see  the  minister  ia  the  accustomed  place  and  the  ftccnstomed 
dress  going  tbrougli  the  accustomed  fonns,  a  veiy  great  change  in 
doctrine  may  pass  them  hy  imheeded.  Many  of  this  class  in  America 
worshipped  in  the  same  chapel  hefore  and  after  it  became  ITni 
and  hardly  perceived  the  cliange. 


ich 

lin^^l 

'0« 


Theodore  Parker  and  American  Unitarianism.      421 


But  if  the  foregoing  description  is  true  of  many  meu  of  twu  or  tlu-ee 
nerotious  back,  both  iu  AmerJcit  and  iu  Eugiand,  it  is  by  no  means 
n  uf  some  who  adorned  llie  UidUuian  cuuimunity  in  the  yarly  yMr3 
the  present  century;  it  is  by  no  means  true  of  such,  men  as  the 
ares,  Orville  Dewey,  TuL-kenuau,  FuUeu,  and  many  others  "who 
jicrht  he  Tueiitiriued ;  least  of  nil  is  it  trae  of  William  EUery  Ohanninjf, 
be  FtHolciu  of  Aiuericaii  Umtarianism.  In  sUtU  nieu  aa  these  we  aee 
iainly  the  widei'  ctdtnix;,  the  broader  induction,  the  greater  v'^armth 
pd  teitderness  of  feeliag  which,  in  America  as  131  KiiKi|.e,  distinyuiah 
be  racti  which  succeeded  the  French  Revolution  froiti  that  which 
(receded  it.  lielshani  and  Priestley  were  heard  of  no  more ;  Coleridge 
nd  WoTtlaworth  attracted  the  atteution  iif  thinking  men  everj^vhere 
D  their  detii-  thrj«<;htg  and  lofty  aspirations  ;  nien'g  munis  came  to  be 
fUled  with  ipieHtiiiiiin^  about  God  and  his  ways  to  man— about  man, 
his  nature  and  hi-t  destiidea — suc^h  as  Avoidd  have  aeemtid  mildness  to 
.their  forefathers.  liy  teachers  such  as  tiiese,  the  feelinf^.^.  and  ima),'i- 
,tion  were  wanned  and  brightened,  not  meTely  the  intellect  gratitied, 
Ch'.iiinin;^r  morB  parlicidarly,  we  liardly  rewij,niise  one  of  the  dis- 
clive tmit,5  of  the  Uidtarianisni  of  tfie  age  of  J'riestley:  wliere,  in 
le  oMer  foi-ui  of  creed, — if  we  may  call  the  opinions  of  thu  eighteeutli 
ntury  L'nitarijins  a  creed, — all  had  liecn  ckmr,  cold,  syateuiatLc,  even 
Batenaliatic,  in  a  word,  "  lij,dit  witliout  love,"  wts  find  iu  Chauniiig 
md  the  best  of  his  compeers,  love,  wanuth,  tenderaess,  earnest  devo- 
iou,  spii[irttl!ctic  eayemt^na  to  promote  the  welfare  of  the  human 
ttotherhaod.  While  the  tenilency  of  the  former  age  had  been  to  set 
Jod  at  a  distaute  from  his  worka,  to  regard  Him  as  a  Beii^  of 
nfinitf  jwwer  and  skdl,  Mdio  had  maile  the  world  with  so  much 
tigeuuity  that,  wheu  once  createil,  it  vetj^uired  no  mom  interference, 
f-law6  of  nature,  laws  of  matter,  and  the  tike,  being  enough  fur  ita 
feguhition^ — the  newer  genenition  looked  upon  Otid  as  everywhere 
Btive,  alilie   in   the  material  and   the   spiritual  world,   sustauiiu^, 

t'ding,  teachhig,  drawing  meu  to  Himself.  While  the  earlier  school 
I  carefully  rejected  everything'  that  bore  the  sliaduw  of  mystery, 
iridiu'i  itsulf  on  receiviutj  only  what  was  proved  by  the  most  iiTe- 
ragable  tjvidence  and  satisHcd  the  clearest  imderstanding,  the  latyr 
SODtinually  recurs  to  that  which  we  have  "the  likest  God  within 
he  soul,"  to  the  truer  and  deeper  knowledge  of  God  which  is  jjiainud 
ly  pi-ayer  and  holy  life.  In  time  past  mysticism,  sentimeutalism, 
iceudentalism  had  been  the  especial  bugbears  of  eulighteued 
ians-,  mystjcistu,  senfiinentalism,  and  transcendentalism  may 
lOst  be  said  to  be  the  very  watthwords  of  many  who  in  more  recent 
Its  have  boTiic  the  name  of  UtiiiaiiAn.  One  i,'i;ncration  taught  that 
child  came  into  Ihu  world  with  ita  moral  and  gpiritnal  nature 
-if,  indeed,  it  had  a  moral  and  spiiituiil  nature — fi'esh  and  uniui- 


42  2  The  Conicmporary  Review. 

paired,  untouched  by  tmy  tr&Bsmitted  staia  of  sin ;  that  every  leeling 
and  fftculty  m  man  waa  alike  to  be  developed  and  cultivated :  the  next 
saw  that  the  "wild  trick  of  his  ancestors''  did  ia  fact  descend  to  the 
child  i  that  children  were  in  fact  not  all  born  vii-tuous,  or  capable  of 
being  made  perfectly  \Trtxioii9  by  judicious  training;  that  men  were  in 
fact  conscious  of  a  la^w  in  their  membcTs  warring  against  the  law  of 
the  mind,  a  law  of  sin  and  death  as  well  as  a  law  of  life.     Tbese  con- 
siderations led  to  the  rejection   of  the  old  theory  of  the   natural 
perfection  of  man.      It  was  seen  that  sin   was   indeed   something 
diflerent  from  a  bad  habit,  that  it  was  aomethinjf  strangely  inherent  in 
the  nature,  the  very  &df  of  the  man ;  to  get  quit  of  sin,  he  must  get 
quit  of  fe'//".     The  earlier  school  of  Unitarians  held  that  only  wpent- 
ance  was  necessary  to  oblitenite  sin;  a  subsequent  school,  taking  a 
wider  and  traer  view  of  the  facts  of  the  world,  could  not  but  see  that 
transgression  of  God's  law  was  in  fact  punished,  that  no  repentance 
would  restore  to  the  palsied  druukard  his  wasted  health,  or  to  the 
reckless  spemlttu-ift  his  squandered  inheriUince ;  nay,  that  the  father's 
repentance  would  not  replace  the  child  in  the  position  from  wliich 
the  father's  crime  had  degnided  him;  and  these  thouj^dite  made  the 
great  problem  of  sin  and  reconciliation  far  less  simple  and  easy  thad^l 
it  h£id  been  to  tlie  shallower  observers  of  the  earher  school :  the  mere 
■recognition  of  the  greatness  of  the  problem  led  to  the  rejection  of  the 
shallow  methods  by  wliich  Priestley  and  his  fellows  had  attemptttl  td^| 
solve  it.     In  fact,  in  reading  Channiug'a  writin^^a,  we  are  continually 
tempted  tx)  wonder  what  it  is  that  separates  him  from  us.     Of  the 
person  of  Jeaus  Christ  he  speaks — -at  least  in  his  practical  and  devoiJB 
tional  wTitinj^a — in  tenns  of  reverence  and  love  not  distinguishable      i 
from  thosu  in  which  the  Saviour  ia  nddresaeil  by  his  earnest  wor- 
shippers everywhere.     liepeatedly  he  dcclams  that  Jesiia  is  no  mraM| 
man ;  nay,  he  does  not  hesitate  to  speak  of  Him  as  the  Eedeemer.*  '" 
"We  do  not  say  that  his  views  on  the  great  subject  of  Atonement  were 
such  aa  would  have  been  accepted  by  the  Church  eitlier  of  ancient  oi 
modern  times;  we  rather  wish  to  point  out  the  great  gulf  there  ia 
between  the  hard  Materialism  of  Priestley  and  the  rehgious  thoiight- 
fulnesa  of  Chaiming, 

Tlie  truth  is,  that  the  body  width  was  still  ciJled  by  the  name 
"  Unitarian"  was  c<!.ising,  in  the  third  decade  of  this  centurj-.  to  l»e 
distinctively  an ti- Trinitarian ;  many  at  that  time  would  have  JoiueJ 
with  Channing  in  saying,  "  I  am  little  of  an  Unitarian." ■[■  They  lifld 
ceased  to  he  distinguished  by  the  maintenance  of  certain  do-^mas; 
their  chtiracteristic  was  rather  the  absence  of  dogma;  "religions 
liberty,"  "free  inquiry,"  "progress,"  had  become  the  watchwords  of 
the  Unitarian  party.  This  is  eapecialty  true  of  Channing,  a  repre- 
•  Chomiiiig's  ^< Life/' bir  liu  Nephew,  p.  30S  (£d.  London,  ISSl).         t  i?iif.,  p.  264. 


e 

1 


T/ieodoi'j  Parker  and  American  Umtarianism.      423 


■ 
t 


sentative  in  this  respect  of  the  hereditary  toleration  of  EJiode  lalajid. 
Everywliere  he  shfinks  from  maintaining^  a  Uoctriae,  still  more  from 
enforciiip  it  iipou  another.  There  b  haitUy  a  stniioii  in  which  he 
does  not  remind  his  hearers  that  h^  speaks  with  no  authority,  that 
they  are  as  competent  to  decide  on  the  tioith  of  this  or  that  proposition 
as  he  himself.  He  says,  writing  to  Banm  Be  Geriiudu,* — ""What  is 
here  cidJetl  Ujiitarianism — ■»  veiy  inadequate  name — is  chai-acterized 
by  nothing  more  than  by  the  spiTit  of  freedom  and  indi^Hduality.  It 
no  established  creed  or  symlxil.     Its  fvionda  think  each  for  him- 

f  and  differ  much  from  each  tither,  so  that  niy  book,  after  all,  will 
give  yon  my  mind  rather  than  the  dogmas  of  a  sect."  Tims  Utiit- 
arianism  had  become  creefUess;  it  ■was  no  longer  distiriginabed  hy 
definite  ^iews ;  it  was  a  name  given  to  that  body  of  Cliristiaua  ■which 
STibscribefl  to  no  creed  or'aymbuL 

Yet  Unitarians  of  all  shades  of  ojiinion,  from  Prie.'itley  to  Channing, 
had  agreed  in  assiytiiuy;  a  liif^h  degi'£e  of  anthority  to  Scripture^  and 
in  accepting  the  Scriptural  miracles  as  true  and  real.  They  had  agreed 
in  recognising,  in  some  shape  or  other,  the  authority  of  Jesus  Christ. 
Their  views  on  this  most  luoiijenlons  puiut  of  all  theolog}'  varied 
indued  from  the  High  Arianiam  which  regarded  Jbsus  as  Divine,  but 
nut  co-eteniiil  or  co-equal  with  the  Fatlierj  to  the  humanitarian  view, 
according  to  ■vvbich  the  .Sa\-innr  was  mere  man,  thfaigh  raised  above 
other  men ;  but  all  agreed  that  his  words  were  to  be  received  as  of 
authority  in  the  Church.  ISefore  Chauning's  death,  these  few  rem- 
nants of  tixeil  behef  reccivetl  a  vinleut  shock.  As  time  went  on,  and 
the  western  shorea  uf  the  Atlantic  began  to  I'eel  tho  wave  of  modern 
thought  and  modern  criticism  which  liad  received  its  first  imjudse 
from  the  theological  bhxsta  of  Gerniany,  there  arose  men  who  were  fur 
shaking  off  all  ituthurity  whatever  in  matters  of  i-ebgion ;  who  were 
not  content  with  a  system  which,  while  it  strijiped  awny  many  of  its 
moat  characteristic  mysteries  from  the  Chiiatian  faith,  still  maintained 
the  reality  of  revelation  and  prophecy  and  miracle ;  who  Ibimd  it,  in 
a  word,  just  &&  dillicult  to  accept  the  faith  of  Channing  as  the  faith  of 
Athaniisius.  The  U-atUng  spirit  of  this  new  school,  u  veiy  small  liody 
at  first,  was  a  young  Massachusetts  minister,  named  Theodore  Parker. 

This  remarkable  mau  was  bom  in  1310,  near  Lexington,  in  Mussa- 
chusi^tts :  Ids  father  was  a  fiuinerj  a  Unitarian,  though  descended  fmm 
the  old  Puritan  coloniats  of  the  district;  and  Theodoi"e's  early  years 
T/ere  apent  in  the  ordinary  labours  of  the  farm  and  the  woodland. 
Eat  a  thirst  for  knowledge  seems  to  have  been  inbred  in  him;  fmm 
Ids  boyhood  he  was  an  eager  reader  of  every  book  that  fell  in  hia  way. 
In  Oifder  to  have  more  time  for  study,  he  became  an  usher  in  a  private 
school  at  Boston,  paying  out  of  his  scanty  stipend  a  labourer  to  per- 

•  "Life,"  p,  288. 


424  ^'^^  Contemporary  Review, 

funii  Ills  OWE  share  of  the  work  on  liis  father'a  faim^  so  carerul  was 
lie  not  to  desert  his  duty  in  following  his  incliDntion.  AfterwarJa  he 
ke])t  a  private  schnrjl  in  WatertowTi.  all  the  time  workiti*^  with  thic 
fierut!  LMieryy  wliich  was  chameti^ristic  of  Ixim — au  ecer^^y  whiclj  wore 
him  out  heCure  iiis  time — to  qualil'y  himself  to  pass  the  esaiuinatious 
at  Hixi'varil  University.  ^Vlieu  lie  fiuLshod  liis  Urnvtirsity  course,  at 
twenty-fuiu,  he  could  read  ten  languages;  at  liia  Jeatii  Jie  is  said  ti) 
have  been  more  or  lea»  acquainted  with  twenty.  Pew  lilfltoiiea  of  the 
pursuit  of  knowledge  under  ililficuUies  are  luoce  ati'ikiiig  tbau  that  uf 
Theodore  Taiker. 

In  1337  he  wa3  appointL^d  minister  of  the  Unitariaa  Church  at 
West  Boxbiuy,  near  Boatoii.  Here,  in  a  quiet  village,  amotij^  ftieudly 
people,  with  pleuty  of  leiuuie  foi  thought  and  study,  he  soon  found 
hhnself  driftiug  away  from  Unitarian  orthodoxy.  A  great  change 
had  come  over  theological  study  since  tlie  days  when  Channing  was 
a  student;  the  Wolfenbiittel  Fi-aguieut^,  the  UTitings  of  Eichhoi-ii, 
PauluB,  De  Wette  (whose  Introduutiou  to  the  Old  Te-statiieut  I*arker 
translated,  with  some  adtUtions),  IJ.  F.  Strauss,  and  other  leadei-s  of 
the  modern  German  school  of  Biblieal  criticism,  found  tlieir  "way  iuto 
America,  where  they  were  eagerly  studied  by  the  few  wIlo  understood 
German,  and  were  interested  in  the  progress  of  tlieology:  by  none 
more  eagerly  than  by  Parker;  and  he  at  least  was  not  a  man  to  su|i- 
press  the  thought  that  was  in  him.  ■  He  says  of  himself: — 

"  Aa  fast  a«  I  found  s  mew  Irutli  I  prGach*?iI  it.  At  length,  in  1841,  I 
]ireached  a  discourse  of  the  Transient  and  Pej-nmneut  in  Christijiaity.  ,  ,  . 
A  greftt  outcry  was  raised  against  th«  s<f.^ruioD  and  its-  suthor.  ,  .  . 
Unbeliever,  intidel,  atheist,  wuru  tho  titles  bestowed  011  me  by  my  brothers 
in  the  Chriistiati  ministry.  A  yiini.''ni,bIo  luiulstcr  .  .  .  vuUed  on  the 
Attcjniey-Ugueml  to  prost^cutc,  the  (imiid  -Tutj'  in  Indict,  aud  the  Judge  to 
sentence  lue  to  three  yeiira'coafinomeat  in  the  statu  priaon  foi"  blasphemy."' 

The  old  spirit  of  Puxitaidsm  waa  not  extinct  even  in  the  Umtariau 
body.  No  Unitarian  bookseller  would  put  his  name  to  the  printed 
sermon,  which  at  last  appeared  uud&r  the  auspices  of  the  Swedeulwr- 
gians  :  its  author  became  a  Pariah ;  many  of  his  former  friends  refused 
to  touch  his  hand  or  speak  to  him  in  the  streets ;  aud  of  the  ITuitarian 
miuisters,  only  six  would  allow  hiui  to  enter  their  pulpits ;  tlie  ciy 
was.  "  This  young  man  must  be  sileuced."  He  waa  not  sileneed,  Iiow- 
ever;  a  few  men,  who  thouglit  that  the  young  minister  had  not  been 
fairly  treated,  iu^^ted  him  to  lecture  in  Boston,  In  consequence  of 
that  resolution,  he  delivered  five  lectures,  "ft'liich  form  the  maio  part  of 
the  "  Diseom"3e  of  Matters  Pei-taining  to  Ileligiou,"  pubUshed  in  1842, 
In  1841^  he  visited  Europe,  whence,  alter  a  year's  travel,  he  returned  t-o 
Boston,  with  his  health,  which  had  been  gi-eatly  impaired  by  the  ovm^ 
*  "Esporifixicc  Ai  B  Mitiiatcr,' '  hi  "^'eia^,  ii.  166. 


Theodore  Parker  and  American  Umiariamism,     425 

work  of  yeazs,  mach  strengthened.  On  tiie  1 6th  of  Fehraazy ,  1 846,  he 
eateied  od  the  ministiy  of  the  Twenty-eighth  CcmgTegfttional  Sooiet;^ 
of  Boeton,  which  he  served  with  unwearied  enetgy  for  fourteen  yeus. 
\sx  1859,  his  excesaive  labours — he  had  given  lectures  in  almost  every 
town  of  the  Union,  in  addition  to  his  usual  ministrations  in  Boston — 
btooght  on  bleeding  from  the  longs ;  he  visited  the  West  Indies  and 
Europe  withoivt  receiving  any  permanent  bene6t:  on  the  10th  of 
May,  1860,  at  Florence,  he  rested  from  his  labours, — ^labours  to  which 
even  those  who  think  them  ill-directed  must  award  the  praise  fA 
having  been  earnest  and  sincere. 

Hewasnotfullfifty  years  old  at  the  time  of  his  death.  In  those  fifty 
years  be  had  drawn  round  him  a  body  of  men  like-minded,  and  given 
a  very  powerful  impulse  to  religious  thought  In  America ;  and  he  had 
taken  a  principal  share  in  organizing  a  strong  anti-slavery  party  in 
Boston,  to  which  the  vigorous  resistance  which  pro-slavery  measures 
have  always  of  late  years  met  with  in  the  North  is  in  a  great  degree 
due ;  and  in  the  midst  of  all  his  labours,  ministerial  and  political,  he 
had  accumulated  an  extraordinary  store  of  multifarious  learning.  But 
the  name  of  Theodore  Parker  is  best  known  in  England  in  connection 
with  a  certain  theological  teaching  called  "  Theistn."  Of  this  system 
we  must  attempt  to  give  a  short  account ;  and  a  short  account  is  less 
unjust  to  Mr.  Parker  than  it  would  be  to  most  other  theological 
teachers,  inasmuch  as  his  principles  are  few  and  simple.  His  nume- 
rous works  relating  to  theolc^  are  but  variations — sometimes  without 
much  variety — on  a  few  simple  phrases.  The  leading  thoughts  to 
which  he  continually  recurs  are  in  the  main  such  as  these: — 

If  we  look  at  man  as  he  actually  exists  in  the  world,  we  find  one 
vast  institution  of  the  highest  consideration  in  human  affairs;  this 
is  religion,  coeval  and  coextensive  with  the  human  race.  Whenoe 
comes  it  ?  The  foolish  answer  to  this  question  may  be  read  in  Lucre- 
tius and  elsewhere,  tliat/ear  made  the  gods ;  that  hypocritical  prieBts 
and  knavish  kings  invented  a  religion  to  help  them  in  governing  the 
common  herd  of  men.  As  well  might  it  be  said  that  the  custom  of 
eating  was  the  cunning  device  of  primeval  butchers  and  bakers.  The 
UTue  fmswer  is,  that  religion  comes  from  a  principle  deep-seated  in  our 
mystic  frame,  and  belongs  to  the  unchanging  realities  of  life;  that 
there  is  in  us  a  spiritual  nature,  which  must  needs  be  satirtficd  with 
heavenly  food  even  as  our  bodily  wants  with  earthly  foo<l.  We  trace 
Uie  working  of  this  religious  element  both  in  the  history  of  the  world 
at  large,  and  in  the  individual  soul  And  this  religious  (^>nsciousnc8S 
must  needs  have  some  object;  the  sense  of  dependence  inipUes 
something  on  which  to  rely.  This  object  is  God;  the  knowledge 
of  God's  existence  is  an  intimation  of  reason;  it  depends  not  on 
Ttasoning,  but  on  raoom;  it  comes  to  man  aa  naturally  as  the 

VOL.  I.  2  F 


426 


Tlie  Contemporary  Review. 


conaciOTisneBB  of  his  own  existence.  But  the  coneepiion  which  we 
can  foiin  of  God  must,  from  the  nature  of  things,  fall  far  short  of  the 
reality;  the  finite  can  form  no  adei|uate  conception  oC  the  infinite ; 
for  all  the  uonceptinns  of  the  hmuan  mind  are  limited  by  time  and 
apace,  while  the  Deity  knows  not  iwimda ;  our  human  personalitj 
gives  a  falae  modification  to  all  our  conceptions  of  the  infinite.  HentJe, 
while  the  irfm  of  Got!  is  constant,  the  saiixe  everywhere  and  in  all 
men,  the  populai-  conception  of  God  is  of  the  most  various  and  evan- 
escent character,  and  is  not  the  same  in  any  two  ages  or  men 
"Absolute  religion"  is  always  the  siune;  men's  thoughts  about  reU- 
giou  change  from  race  to  race,  and  from  age  to  age ;  there  is  but  one 
religion,  though  many  tlieidogies.  The  true  outward  form  of  Teligiou, 
that  which  shows  itself  in  act,  is  morality- ;  but  man  has  devised  uuiny 
forms  out  of  his  own  restless  ingenuity,  Hence,  as  we  have  various 
forms  of  theology,  so  we  have  various  forms  of  worship.  The  three 
great  historiuid  forms  of  religion  are  Fetichism,  Polytheism,  and  Mono- 
theisoj, 

Monotheistn,  the  highest  form  of  religion,  is  the  worship  of  one 
supreme  God,  the  Father  of  ad.  It  annihilates  all  distinction  ol' 
trilies  aiid  nations  *  i£  tends  to  abolish  war  and  slavery,  for  it  makea 
all  men  brothers.  It  givi*3  to  all  alike  the  guidance  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  of  God.  God  is  distinct  from  nature,  the  ground  and  cause  of 
all  things. 

True  spiritxial  religion  teaches  us  that  in  God  "  we  live  &nd  move 
and  have  our  being."  Inspiration  then  is  no  miracle,  but  a  regular 
mode  of  God's  at^tion  on  conscious  spirit,  as  gravitation  is  a  mode  nf 
his  action  on  uneoogciou^  matter,  Tlie  Word  is  very  nigh  to  every 
man,  even  in  his  heai-tj  and  by  this  Word  he  is  to  try  all  things 
submitted  to  him.  Wisdom,  righteousness,  and  love  are  the  spirit  of 
God  in  the  soul  of  man  ;  wherever  these  are,  there  is  inspiration  from 
God.  Inspiration  is  the  action  of  the  Highest  within  the  aonl,  the 
Divine  Presence  imparting  light.  And  this  inspiration  is  limited  t«i 
no  sect,  age,  or  nation ;  it  is  wide  as  the  world  and  common  as  God. 
We  are  not  bom  in  the  dotage  and  decay  of  the  world ;  the  "  insist 
ancient  heavens  are  fre^sh  and  strong"  now  as  ever:  everywhere  God 
is  present  stilJ,  ag  every  man  knows  who  has  truly  prayed  to  Him ;  and 
as  God  ia  always  the  same,  hie  modes  of  action  are  always  the  same; 
He  does  not  break  the  laws  which  He  has  established  in  natura 

From  mail  God  reiinires  pnre  spiritual  worsbip  ;  He  requires  us  to 
keep  the  law  He  has  written  in  our  heai-ta;  to  be  good,  to  do  good; 
to  love  men,  to  love  God.  The  temple  of  this  religion  ia  a  pure  heart, 
its  sacrifice  a  Divine  life.  The  end  it  proposes  is,  to  re-unite  the  man 
with  God,  till  ho  thinks  God's  thought^  which  ia  Truth  j  feels  God's 
feeling,  which  is  Love;  wills  God's  wiU,  which  is  eternal  Eight;  thus 


Theodore  Parker  and  American  Unitarianism.      427 


finding  God  in  the  sense  wherein  He  is  not  far  from  every  one  of  ns; 
becoming  one  with  Him,  and  sci  partaking  the  Divine  Nature.  lieli- 
giou  demands  w,}  particular  actions,  Ibrms,  or  modes  of  tliought.  The 
man's  ploughing  is  holy  as  his  prayer;  hi*  daily  bread  aa  the  smoke 
of  his  Sacrifice  \  Ids  wo^rk-day  and  his  efibbatli  iire  alike  God's  days. 
He  does  not  sacrifice  reason  to  religion,  noi- relig;ion  to  teaaon,;  hrother 
and  sister,  they  dwell  together  in  love. 

Now  it  is  clear  that  this  "  absolute  religion"  (as  Mr.  Parker  is  fond 
of  CflJIing  it)  diaptiiaes  with  revelation,  except  such  as  is  made  directly 
to  the  soul  of  each  ntan,  altogether.  There  is  no  space  left  for  the 
authoritative  proclamation  of  good  tidings  from  (iod ;  for  all  the 
knowledge  of  Owl,  all  the  inspiration,  of  which  man  ia  capable,  he 
may  attaui  by  cultivating  and  developing  the  facnltiea  which  Grod  haa 
given  him;  "  miracaloufl  or  other  revelations"  can  no  more  render 
him  "religious  tlian  Iragmenta  of  sermons  and  leaves  of  the  Bible  can 
juake  a  lamb  religious  when  mixed  and  eaten  with  its  daily  food,"* 
The  only  question  that  can  arise  about  revelation  ia,  whether  it  coiii- 
uides  or  not  with  "  absolute  religion ;"  if  it  does,  it  is  simply  super- 
fluous; if  it  does  not,  it  ia  injurious.  Hence  we  are  not  surprised 
when  Mr.  Parker  comes  in  speak  of  Jesus  Christ,  of  the  Holy  Sdriji- 
tures,  of  the  Catholic  C'hui'ch,  to  find  him  treating  the  whole  subject 
as  from  a  superitu'  height.  His  views  of  the  life  of  the  Saviour  are 
those  of  D.  F.  Strauss;  he  believes  the  Incarnate  Son  to  have  been 
simply  a  yoiuig  Galilean  teacher,  about  whose  pure  and  holy  life 
various  supernatural  legends  have  clustered  in  consequence  of  the 
eager  wish  of  the  disciples  to  exalt  their  Master.  On  poiuta  of  Old 
Testament  criticism  he  adopted  the  views  of  De  Wette,  capricious 
and  improbable  as  they  sometimes  are,  with  Hltle  reserve  or  inde- 
pendence of  judgment;  liis  ^iews  on  the  New  Testament  am  taken 
mosUy  from  F,  C.  Baur.  Christ  founded  no  Cliurch,  nor  were  the 
sacraments  intended  to  be  perpetual.  Tlie  Church  which  we  find 
existing  was  formed  by  a  gradual  process,  from  natural  cauaea,  in  the 
courtie  of  the  first  tliree  or  four  centuries  after  Christ.  In  a  word, 
neither  the  Lord  Jesus,  nor  the  Scriptures,  nor  the  Church,  have  any 
9.uthoHtative  teaching  for  man. 

It  i$  admitted,  however,  that  the  teaching  of  Jesus  did  in  fact 
coincide  to  a  great  extent  with  "  absolute  religion."  Although  He 
taught  that  Cod  ia  wroth  with  sin,  that  there  ia  a  "devil  absolutely 
evil,"  and  a  CJelienna  of  fire  for  impurity — things  which  Mr.  Parker 
cannot  Tec«iv<>;  altliough  He  "taught  sonietluny  wliich  is  ritual" — 
Baptism,  and  the  Supper  of  the  lord ;  yet  the  teaching,  "  Love  man  as 

*  "DiacouTBo  of  Mattors  Pertaining  to  Iteligion,"  p,  13  (MiBS  Colibo'a  edit.).  Tie 
KntRkoe  ia  a  choi-cc  qtecimcQ  of  TAj.  Fnrkur'^  dslicnU'   tarte  and  rdcor  perceplion  of 


The  Contemporary  R^Atw. 


yourself,  love  God  above  aU,"  was  truu  and  Bpiribital;  it  included, 
indeed,  all  pmctieal  Holiness.  When  Jeaiia  GhriaL  sets  forth  the 
lughcst  aini  for  man,  "  Be  ye  perfect,  even  as  youi'  Father  in  heaven  is 
perfect ;"  when  He  declares  the  eternal  blessedness  of  such  aa  do  tliu 
will  of  God ;  when  He  says  that  the  .Spirit  of  God  ahall  be  in  theio, 
reveflllng  truth, — He  teaclies  pure  or  "  absolute'"  religitm. 

Such  are  the  leading'  features  of  Theodore  Parker's  tesGhing.  To 
use  the  words  of  Mias  Cobbe  * — 

"  This  creed  has  faw  articles :  iu  CTeE-prea6Qt  God,  who  is  absolutely  good  ;j 
a  Ciotal  law  written  in  tlio  consciousness  of  man ;  the  ifflinortatit7  of  tllS 
aoul;  the  reality  of  spiritual  prayer.  This  is  tlio  entire  theology  cf  Th«H>* 
d(Bi3  Parker,  It  contains  no  doctrines  of  a  Fall,  an  Incarmition,  a  IVinily^ 
au  Atonunmnt,  a  devil,  ur  a  boll;  no  original  sin,  no  impnted  light^vusiu'sa. ' 
Its  morality  is  sumumtl  up  in  tlm  two  grout  comnutndnnanta  of  tlio  Uw,  and 
its  thcsorj'  of  R'concdifltion  itt  the  parabl<j  of  the  prodigal  apn.  To  this  reli- 
gion Fitrker  gnvQ  thi:;  imme  of  Toei^m,  ^  ns,m.f!  »ntith«:ti<r  to  AUiei^m  iili'iie, 
and  comprolieiiaivc  of  uvury  wtiTeLippur  of  God ;  ^  name  not  unduratuud, 
liks  the  elder  Uei^ni,  tu  aiguify  the  cscluslon  of  Cbristiaikity,  but  tho  Inulu- 
fiion  of  it  in  one  great  uLsolute  rcligton." 

We  have  honestly  endeavoured  to  state  fairly  the  central  truths  of 
Mr,  Parker's  system;  those  who  have  read  his  works  will  kniow  how 
much  vehemence  and  exaggeration  we  have  eliminated  in  mttkini» 
this  analysis.  We  have  given  Mr.  Parker's  oinchiaionfl  without  his 
offensive  expressions  or  hia  strange  caricatures  of  the  views  of  las 
opponents. 

And  when  stated  thus,  without  the  corollaries  which  Mr.  I'arker's 
vehement  and  Boniewbat  coarse  nature  added  to  Uiem,  there  is  littk 
to  which  we  can  object;  nay,  does  not  every  Christian  heartily  assent 
til  every  lu-ticle  of  Mr.  Parker's  creed  ?  Surely  every  Christian  admifoi, 
a.s  heartily  as  the  "  Theiat/'  that  there  is  one  ever-present  God  abso- 
lutely good ;  that  all  men,  even  those  to  whom  the  GoB|>eI  of  Chrisl 
boti  not  come,  have  the  "  work  of  the  law  written  Id  theii'  hearts," 
oonscience  that  beareth  wituesa,  and  thoughts  that  accuse  or  excuse; 
tiiat  the  man  does  not  die  wheu  he  quits  hia  failing  house  of  elav: 
that  God  does  indeed  heai"  and  answer  the  earnest  prayers  of  his 
children  here  on  eartk  All  this  was  written  in  the  Bible  Ioqo  before 
Mr,  Parker  imdei-took  to  enlighten  the  world.  The  second  artiile  nf 
tliis  brief  creeil  haa,  we  must  a<lmit,  been  too  much  obs'^iu-ed  in 
modem  theology,  though  not  to  the  extent  that  Mr.  Parker  6»eem8  In 
suppose ;  but,  on  the  whole,  the  creed  of  the  "Theiut"  is  uouluded  in 
the  creed  of  Christian  men  throughout  the  world. 

It  is  not  in  what  he  affirma,  bnt  in  what  he  denies,  that  Mr.  Pnrker 

offend?.    The  great  ti-uths  wliich  have  been  held  witli  one  mind  bv 

the  Church  throughout  the  world — the  great  facts  of  Slu,  lucaniatioii, 

•  Prefaee  to  "  CoUeeted  Works/'  p.  uti. 


Theodore  Parker  and  American  Unitariantsm.      429 


I 
I 


I 


Atonement,  are  treated  by  him  with  scorn  and  contempt.  His  ideal 
Christian  "  asks  no  pardon  for  his  sins  ;"*  this  is  the  cardinal  differ- 
ence between  Mr,  Parker's  system  and  the  theolt^  of  the  univeiSBl 
Churclt;  nay.  we  might  go  lurtUer,  and  say  Uiat  this  is  Uie  iHirerence 
between  Mr.  Pai-kei'a  view  and  the  almost  univei-sal  belief  of  all  man- 
kitul  Everywhere  the  cry  goes  up  to  Heaven,  "  How  shall  a  man  be 
just  with  GcmI  V"  EverjTffhere  pi-ayer  find  oblation,  liisti-ai  waters  and 
elain  victims,  temples  and  altars  and  priests,  bear  witness  to  men's 
Donviction  of  sin,  his  conscionsneaa  of  the  need  of  propitiation;  no 
barbariam,  no  stoicism,  haa  altogether  silenced  tliia  voice;  yet  this 
"  new  sclioul"  has  no  Atonement,  for  it  has  no  couaeiouaneas  of  sin. 
Mr.  T'arker  laya  it  down  in  the  strongest  manner  that  the  universal! 
Wttote  sind  cravings  of  mankind  imply  the  existence  of  some  object  to 
saiiflfy  those  wants  and  L'l-avings ;  and  yet  he  believes  that  God,  the 
loving  Father,  the  absolutely  good  Being,  has  left  these  his  children 
"  crying  ia  the  night/'  witli  longings  that  can  never  be  eatisfied.  And 
so  with  regard  to  the  Incarnation :  Sir.  I'arker  sees  cleai-ly  enough 
that  the  reverence,  devotion,  and  love  which  man  feels  for  Go«l  are 
uot  to  l»e  siiti8fie<l  by  a  mere  ubatmctiou ;  that  all  mankiiid  longs  for 
a  Man  in  whom  Uotl  aiioll  be  revealed  ;■(■  and  yet  he  refuaea  to  eon- 
template  even  the  possibility  of  sutli  a  revelation;  "God  became 
man"  is  to  him  simply  the  statement  of  a  manifest  absmiiity.  He 
can  recognise  the  "Vox  ].iopuli,  vox  Dei,"  when  it  tells  of  the  exist- 
ence of  God  and  of  a  moral  law  :  when  this  same  voice  cries  ont  in 
wailing  tones  tbat  man  is  uapure,  miholy,  alienated  from  G(xl;  that 
He  needs  an  Atonement,  a  Mechator,  au  Iiicamate  Saviom-,  a  "  Son  of 
Muin"  who  is  alao  "Son  of  Goil,"  then  it  is  but  a  deceiving  voice; 
man  must  be  told  that  he  has  no  sin,  and  by  cooseciuence  no  need  of 
a  Kedeemer.  .Sin  and  the  need  of  reconciliation  are  the  most  patent 
facta  iu  the  world's  history  ;  and  yet  all  that  part  of  theology  which 
relates  to  sin  antl  reconciliation  are  in  the  "  Theifltic"  system  a  perfect 
bhiiik.  The  theological  tlieory  is  aiiuplitied  by  the  simimary  method 
of  denying  or  ignoring  the  principal  facts  which  theology  is  called 
upon  to  exjjaiii ;  a  system  founded  on  consciousness  contains  no 
explanation,  nay,  contains  no  recognition  Of  that  most  glaring  fact, 
the  conscinnsnesa  of  siu.  This  defect  alone  woidd  prevent  Mr. 
Parker's  system  from  becoming,  as  his  admirers  btlieve  that  it  is 
destined  to  Ijecorae,  the  theology  of  the  future.  Suppose  even  that 
every  particle  of  niimculous  evidence  for  Christianity  were  anni- 
hilated ;  let  it  be  agreed  that  no  miracle  was  ever  •ftTought ;  strip  the 
Bible  and  the  Church  of  every  semblance  of  authority;  still  we  do 
not  believe  that  Ihitb  "  Theism'"  ^vould  ever  be  the  creed  of  any  large 


•    "DiBCOnrBQj"  p.  317. 


CoDLput;  the  highly  clianM'tt'rutui  sod  implesdant  pasa&ge  in 
t  " Ilisfourse/'  p.  IO7. 


4jO  The  Coniemporary  Review. 


portion  of  mankind.  Take  away  the  sacrifice  of  Clirist,  and  men  will 
offer  all  manner  of  vain  oblations,  devise  all  manner  of  expiations,  cut 
themselves  with  knives  before  Baal,  or  make  their  cliildren  paaa 
through  the  fire  to  Moloch,  rather  than  commit  themselves  to  a  sys- 
tem which  does  not  recoj^mae  sin,  does  not  acknowledge  an  Atone- 
ment, No  doubt  th^rc  wlI]  always  l>e  Stoics  and  Epicureans;  endtir- 
auce  or  inJiflerence  will  always  t>e  the  resource  of  some  minds ;  some 
souls  will  ever  build  themselves  costly  pleasure-liouses,  "  wherein  at 
ease  for  aye  to  dwell ;"  but  some  time  or  other  "  the  abysmal  (\eeps  of 
PersPTiality  plague  them  with  sore  despair."  And  when  the  agoniziiig 
cry  is  uttered,— 

"  Wlint  iH  it  that  Hill  tnke  away  my  aia, 
And  t-vrn  me,  Itiat  1  (li«  ? " 

wliat  answer  has  Theism  to  give  ?  It  is  in  vain  to  tell  the  man  who 
utters  such  a  cry.  "  You  have  ao  aiu ;  the  i>hantom  which  terrifies  you 
is  but  the  nightmare  of  a  diseased  imaginatirtn  ;"  the  man  knows:  but 
too  wyll  that  it  is  no  phantom,  liwt  soiuetliing  which  is  very  real  and 
very  terrible,  something  from  which  he  ueeds  a  Dcliveii3r  who  ia  more 
than  mail.  If  he  knows  not  the  true  Deliverer  he  will  certainly  seek 
some  other. 

If  Ml*.  Parker  had  [Mw.'icsscd  an  fnduotive  mind,  his  own  principles 
would  have  brought  him  to  very  difierent  conclusions ;  but  his  mind 
wa8  not  calm  and  philosophical,  but  pa-saionate  and  rhetorical.  Even 
in  the  "Discourse  of  Matters  Pei-taining  to  Relijjinu,"  which  has  con- 
siderable pretensions  Uj  be  considered  a  pliilosophical  work,  and  which 
\Sk  very  brief  in  proportion  to  the  vast  matters  to  he  tresited  of,  there 
are  fretiuent  repetitioiii?,  not  a  few  contradictions,  and  nuuiy  ]>assages 
of  vagiifi  declamation.  The  aennons  are  ftiU  of  rhapsorlit^^  wliich.  if 
sometimes  eloquent,  are  more  often  turgid  and  over-ornate.  In  a 
word,  hi.i  faults  are  tlie  iurdta  of  an  orator,  ami  of  an  orator  aceustonied 
to  speak  from  the  pidpit  oi'  the  platform  to  an  audience  sympathetic 
indeed,  but  not  of  g:ood  taste  or  delicate  iHjrception.  Vehemence  and 
exaggeration,  wliich  mark  almost  every  page  of  Mr.  Parker's  wiitinj^'S, 
are  excellent  rpialities  to  attract  a  crowd,  but  sorry  aids  towards  the 
attainment  of  tnith.  To  this  omtorical  habit  of  mind  are  to  be  traced 
Mr.  Parker's  must  pi'ominent  deftict^.  Kis  irreverence  was  perhaps 
natural  to  him.  He  was  not  destitute  of  a  kind  of  religiosity,  but  h« 
had  no  respect  for  men's  feelings  towards  theii'  most  cherished  objects 
of  regard.  The  spirit  of  the  youth  who  spoke  of  "old  Paid."  and  "the 
gentleman  Irom  Tarsus  "  in  the  debating  society  at  Cambridge  is  loo 
often  visible  in  the  man,  and  is  aggravated  by  the  constant  liabit^  of 
platform  denunciation.  leaving  for  an  instant  out  nf  considemtiou 
the  Diviae  authority  of  the  holy  sacrament.?,  we  should  have  thoughi 
that  then-  venerable  auti4uity,  and  the  constant  reverence  paid  to  them 


Tlieodore  Parker  and  American  Unitarianism.      431 


I 


I 


I 


I 


by  thousands  of  the  noLleat  intellects  that  the  world  has  seen,  would 
have  shielded  them  from  the  attscks  of  a  young  New  England 
minister;  yet  be  speaks  of  them  with  the  utmost  contempt;  of  tlie 
Holy  Cotnmimion  in  particular  he  us@s  C!cpr$$$ion8  which  we  cfiniaot 
repeat  here.*  And  t^i  the  aaiiie  coaraeneisi!  of  ptirceptioii,  which  wfis  a 
main  cause  of  his  irrevereiicii,  is  due  liis  want  of  true  wit  atid  liumour. 
To  say  that  there  can  be  no  devil,  since  ]io  print  of  his  hoofs  is  found 
in  the  old  red  aandstone ;  or  that  men  are,  after  all,  more  well-diaiinsed 
than  the  contrary,  since  even  South  Oarohna  sdnatorB  are  sober  all  the 
forenoon, — these  sayinga  would  seem  humoioUB  and  sarcastic  to  aome 
audiences,  while  to  othci-a  they  simply  show  that  their  author  knew 
how  to  witcb  tlie  mob,  thou<jh  he  waa  probably  destitute  of  oil  finer 
perception  of  the  humorous.  His  leading,  too,  with  some  exceptions, 
Bt'ems  to  have  been  rather  of  that  hasty  and  discuraive  kind  which 
enables  a  man  to  catch  herti  iind  thero  a  thouj^ht  or  an  iniaj,'e  for 
future  use,  than  the  slow  and  careful  study  whicli  really  n&iirisltvs  the 
ivader's  mind,  and  Ieave.9  it  not  only  filled  but  atrengthened.  He 
wtudie-il  tlui  Fathers  of  the  first  Jive  (.centuries  before  he  was.  twenty- 
five.  We  think  of  Delarue'a  lifelong  toil  over  Origen,  and  Jausen'a 
over  Augustine,  and  wonder  what  kind  of  "study"  this  was.  In 
another  lim',  he  takes  up  Bopp's  " Comparative  Grammar;"  finding 
this  a  buok  rtjij airing  thorough  study,  not  atimitting  of  "skuauiiug," 
he  "can't  read  the  book,"f  though  his  friends  tell  ua  that  he  had 
remarkalily  linguistic  aptitude,  And  this  habit  of  devouring,  without 
digesting  hia  reading  by  ctreful  meditation,  stunted  bis  mental 
gmwUi.  We  see  Ms  mind  fiDed  with  larger  and  larger  stores  from 
year  to  year,  but  we  do  not  aee  it  acf^uire  more  cautious  deliberation, 
luore  sagacious  judgment;  we  do  not  i^ee  that  the  latest  expression  of 
his  thought  rises,  in  point  of  vigour  and  ability,  abovo  the  level  of  the 
»<ennon  by  which  he  first  became  known,  tlie  "  Discoui-se  of  tiiG  Tran  - 
*ient  and  I'ennanent  in  Christianity."  In  tone,  souk'  of  Ms  later 
writings  art!  more  unple^ant  than  his  eai-Her,  By  a  vehement  impulse, 
lie  took  up  certain  ojiinions  i?aily  hi  lif«,  and  these  be  continually 
illustrated  anew  I'rom  the  fresh  stuicsof  Mai^eadrng;  but  he  never  seems 
to  have  become  capable  of  altei-ing  his  standpoint  so  as  to  gain  a  fairer 
•view  of  an  opponent's  position.  A  boy  of  quick  and  active  intellect 
delights  in  bis  own  "  iutuitionr^ ;"  they  seem  to  conduct  him  so  hghtly 
and  easily  to  the  highest  knowledge  that  he  cannot  submit  to  the  long 
t<jil,  the  patient  induction,  the  susj^jcnsion  of  judgiiK'nt  which  tlie  wise 
in  all  ages  have  found  necessary  for  the  attainment  of  truth.  This 
characteristic  of  boyhood,  with  its  good  and  its  evd.,  Mr.  Paiker  seems 
to  have  retained  to  the  end  of  his  days.  His  extensive  reading  was 
not  the  means  of  advancingt  with  strengthened  faculties,  to  higher 

•  WeiH,  L  ISff.  .  t  liid.,  i.  111. 


432 


Tiu  C&Htenip&rary  Review, 


truth;  it  did  bat  illiiatratii  ccirtjiin  I'oregoue  conclusions.  It  is  the 
want  of  growth  and  moral  thou^'lit fulness  which  renders  Theodore 
Parker's  "  Experience  as  a  Minister  "—an  ant«biograpliioal  document 
addressed,  shortly  !)efore  his  death,  to  his  congregation  in  Baaton — au 
very  inferior  in  interest  to  the  "  Phasea  of  Faith "  of  Mr.  F,  W. 
Newman,  or  the  "  Apoltrgia"  of  his  highly-gifted  brother;  it  has  none 
of  that  unveiling  of  spiritual  conflict,  Umt  tenderness  of  conscience, 
that  paiufiJ  Btmggle  towards  tlie  quarter  whence  tlie  light  seems  Ui 
proceed,  which  gives  such  a  deep,  almost  tragic  charm  to  those 
volumes.  It  has  an  interest  of  its  own,  as  a  record  of  opinions  stead- 
fastly held,  of  a  work  earnestly  wrought  out,  in  the  midst  of  a  storm 
of  opposition  wliich  would  have  daunted  most  men;  but  this  hardi- 
hood against  opposition  has  i'ar  Sess  o!'  human  interest  than  the 
Subtlety  and  impressibility  which  charactertjie  the  Newnums.  Mr- 
Parker's  mind  Wag  not  subtle  or  inijireaeible ;  it  had  that  firm  and 
t«iiacioua  grasp  of  a  few  leading  principles  which  is  essential  to  tlie 
success  of  a  popiJar  orator,  not  the  pliancy  and  readiness  to  cliangt, 
as"  fresh  evidence  arisea,  which  mark  a  really  great  and  progressive 
thinker.  If  he  had  possessed  more  ready  appreciation  of  an  antago- 
nist's position,  more  perception  of  the  danger  of  extreme  statement. 
he  would  have  been  a  much  better  and  gieater  man.  biit  he  woidd  not 
have  held  the  attention  of  listening  crowds,  week  after  week,  in  tlia 
Boston  Music  Hall.  In  short,  Mr.  Parker's  character  might  not 
unfairly  be  summed  up  in  the  wonb  which  he  himself  applies  tu  the 
"resolute  llierome,"- — "Setting  aside  his  extensive,  perhaps  immense 
reading,  and  faculty  of  sharp  declamation,  .  .  .  nothing  but 
moHlentte  faculties  remain.  He  was  not  a  profound  scholar  in 
Hebrew,  or  oven  in  Greek  [or  Ijatin].  He  taited  of  theology  rather 
than  exhausted  it." 

We  do  not  think  Mr.  Paiker  a  "latter  Lnther,"  who  will  shake  the 
faith  of  tiie  ;iervaut^s  of  Christ  as  the  carhcr  Luther  lUd  that  of  the 
SBi'vants  of  the  Papacy ;  his  work  was  too  hasty  and  ill-compacted  to 
produce  a  pennanent  ctfect  upon  the  world ;  but  we  are  far  from 
saying  that  his  labours  are  lost ;  no  labour  is  wholly  iost  which  is 
done  in  sincerity  and  truth.  And  if  there  is  much  "  wood,  hay, 
stubble"  in  the  edi&ce  which  Mr.  Parker  has  built,  yet  when  the  fire 
shall  have  destroyed  them  there  ■wfll  remain,  we  doubt  not,  some 
grains  of  gold.  It  is  uu  small  thing  to  have  recced  men's  minds 
to  the  fact,  too  often  forgotten,  tliat  God  has  witnesses  for  Himself 
even  in  the  midst  of  heathens  and  idolaters.  "  Tlie  heavens  declart 
the  glory  of  God,  and  the  firmament  showetb  Ids  handiwork," 
even  to  those  who  have  not  known  the  name  of  C-hrist;  the  voice 
of  God  spealcs  in  men's  hearts  to  many  who  know  not  his  reve- 
lation of  Himself  in  his  Son  Incarnate ;   nowhere  has  God  "  left 


TJi€odarc  Parker  and  A  merkait  Unittirianism.      433 


I 


Himself  withowt  a  witness,"  though  in  ma.uy  a  land  men  "  glorify 
Kim  not  as  G«i,  neither  are  thankful;" — to  have  recalled  tliis  truth 
in  the  midat  of  a  generation  prone  to  regard  all  mankind,  out- 
side of  certain  smaU  sects,  as  almost  beyond  the  jialt!  of  tiod'a 
mercies,  is  no  small  service.  And  akin  to  this  is  Mi-.  I'arker'a  firm 
assertion  of  the  eternal  and  nnchangeablo  nature  of  morality,  which 
ia,  we  think,  the  best  feature  of  liis  teaching.  The  Evangelicals  had^ 
to  a  g7«at  extent,  adopted  the  aaioe  theory  of  morals  a,?  the  older  Unit- 
arians ;  virtue  and  vine  were  in  their  eyes  matters  of  onUnauce ;  a 
virtuous  act  waa  simply  an  act  deee^'ing  reward  in  the  other  world ; 
&  vicious  actj  one  deserving  everlasting  pimislmient ;  men  spoke  aome- 
times  as  if  mm'der  would  liavo  heeu  no  sin,  had  not  the  tables  of  J^inai 
proclaimed,  "Thou  shalt  do  no  murder."  The  popular  definition  of 
virtue  was  that  startling  Faleyan  sentence  which  makes  virtue  consist 
in  doing  good  for  the  sake  of  everlasting  happLnesa:  to  this  morality  of 
calculation,  whi'.li  does  good  hoping  for  vnidi  in  return.  Mr.  Parker, 
like  the  nobler  philoaophera  of  all  times,  opposed  a  firm  faith  in 
tlie  Spirit  which  does  good  "  hoping  for  nothing  again."  Right,  he 
declares,  i.s  eternally  right,  wrong  is  eternatly  wrong ;  no  circum- 
stanocs,  no  ordinances  caa  niakc  right  'wTOng,  or  wTong  right;  the 
principles  of  right  and  wrong  arc  fixed  and  eternal  as  God  Himself. 
This  is,  in  fact,  hia  religion.  We  fail  to  find  any  distinction  between 
a  TelijfLon  which  ia  defined  to  be  "voluntary  obedience  to  the  law  of 
God,  inward  and  outward  obedience  to  that  law  which  He  lias  written 
on  our  nature,"*  and  a  pure  morality.  A  puie  and  unselfish  morality 
Mt,  Parker  certainly  preached ;  the  cause  which  Pecock  maintained 
against  the  LoUarde,  Hooker  against  the  l^uiitans,  an<l  t^udworth 
against  the  Hobbiat^,  he  maintained  against  the  New  England  Evan- 
gelicals and  "Old  School"  Unitarians.  Tliia  is  no  faint  praise;  and 
more  than  tliis  we  cannot  give.  Some  portions  of  his  work  will  pro- 
bably endure ;  his  writings  we  think  will  cease  to  attract  notice  when 
the  generation  to  which  they  were  first  addressed  shall  have  passed 
away. 


S.  Cheetham. 


"  DiMMTK,"  p.  24. 


CHURCH   HYMN-BOOKS. 


Jiynnj  Aiicif^^t  aiid  Modem,  dK-i  ^f--*  HilA  tMccompannhuT  Tt£ft^-  SdlBObd 
and  Arrangeil  bj  WM.  BINRV  MCiME,  Orsiuiiat  udiJ  Direclttr  of  Ik 
C^oir  Bl  KinK  t  OjUscb.  LunJub.     Loodub  1  NoVcUo. 

PtalBU  anil  Hj/mnt  Jur  Public  tt'oTjUp,  tciili  appmpriatt  7'uHn,  Bavwd 
mud  Editt.ll  lif  Jax>s  Tokli.  Cr|BaiiCaf  Wi!itiiiiik»U^  A  liber.  Saeaai 
Edjtioii.    Lou JoDi :  SocJet/  far  ProiDotlng  Chjlitkji  KunivlMlfi!. 

Tftt  C^nri*  Ptaller  owl  Bgimt-livoli  Br  tha  En.  WM.  HUoKk.  ILA 
The  HajTnuTiiM  Reviacd.  by  JoBH  Gu-»5,  E»a..  CuiaiuKC  to  Bit 
M^EaLj'fl  ChaiHiU  RoT>l,  aail  Onajiut  uf  BH.  Pufk  CWhodmL 
Loadoji  ;  N  iibct  ii  Ca. 

17k  Cond/rtsm-lfifnal  ll-jntn.  and  Tuiw-tMiJt,  4«.  Br  Uu  SXr.  K  B.  Caort 
B.A,  AMtltfd  bTthe  Bcr.  J.  B.  l>jka„  H.A,.  Miu.  Dn«.  ^  W.  T  B«A 
ISiq.,  Organin  r>f  SI.  Cco-rie'a  H&ll,  l.treircol;  E.  (^Kipur.  &q., 
Onuiit  of  H?r  M^ntT'i  Clupeli  lt>0'ral :  Rrv  IL  F.  amiUi,  ILA.. 
BoqUiofU;  K,  J.  Hopltiu,  1^.,  OTxiciM.  -if  th«  rrmpli.'  Ohnicti, 
Lrntdon  ;  Dr.  Maafc,  Orgatuit-  of  Yur*  cuiJiwlntl ;  J-  TaiJt,  E*t, 
DrBauiIrt    of  AVL-fltmiDaU'r    AbL^j;    3Lnd    tntborfl.      LrfioduQ  ;    W1U1»™ 

ji  SrtrdUin  oS  Piatnu  unrf  llymni,  Arranjral  /or  ?Ar  Public  SrrpCca  af  l/f 
Chtcrc/i  vf  Etii/Cand.  Bj  tbn  Ber  Ch.uileh  H.IHBI.X.  M.A..  Barliii  it 
BatlL  With  nrpruprtutio  Tuuei.  BuidudIikJ  tziil.  Amatarti  lij  t)r 
B.  B.  WkhLeV.     Iriindaii :  Bultoo,  Clupliam. 

Hytant  far  iJie  ClKirfh  of  e-Kif!aitd,  wilh  Pn/pT  Tumir,  EUJM  if 
L"HX.HLEs  3tci]UuIL.l,  Mut.  Dds.  Cuitiili.,  t^^eaoi  uf  Honurju^  d 
die  Tivjal  Ai'adKin;  uf  Muiicl::,  anr)  OrgDnixt  In  tlir  Hon.  SuciBtj  nf 
Lincalo't  Intl.     Liiadaa  :  Lijn  Kiniuiii. 

Piatnu  and  fl^iniii  adapted  to  thr  'Scrrktt  pJ  Ute  tJiarch  r\f  UngUuuI,  irtIA 
atmunipan^inir  Tuner.  HBliaaled  vid  JU'viand  bj  JoflJf  PobTU- 
GrntlciEinii  tiT  H.  M  Chftpcls  iioral,  iic.  Liiudun  ;  Bifinitvi^ 
lUdlDinSfilr  i:illed  "Ilull'a,  iii  "TljeMiti«"  Hrwn-b<Mk.| 

The  AalMury  Hymn  ljin>k.      LuuttoD  ;  i^lniiikin.  Mnniull,  ft  Cd. 

A  Book  9f  Chitrdi  ffyaint.      LddiIoh  :  Boaniirtll. 

''PHE  topiousnees  of  this  list,  wliicb  miglit  liave  been  augmented 
-L  to  alnioat  any  extent,  mny  tuatify  to  tiie  interest  which  h  now 
taken  in  the  d«paitmeDt  of  ovj  public  ■worshi),)  teprosvnt«d  l»y  it. 
And  we  are  hap^jy  to  say  that  the  coateuts  of  siltiiost  any  one  of  these 
volumes  might  be  uaeJ  to  show  the  itniuuas^  iiuprovemeiit  which  has 
taken  place  within  the:  last,  few  yeuTi*,     The  Uhureh  in  Eitglaml  owes 


Church  Hymn-books. 


435 


ibt  of  gratitude  to  those  who,  by  ttompilinji  such  books,  have 
carried  the  best  hymns  in  the  language  into  hmidreda  of  churchcw 
where  they  had  no  chance  of  mhniasiou  before, — -have  chastened  the 
Bielodies  and  purified  the  hsiriuouies  of  out  uatiunal  tuues,— auil  havw 
nnnchecl  both  hyoins  and  tunea  by  tmnslutiuus  and  iniportatioua  I'rum 
other  Keformeil  Churches,     We  may  well  look  with  some  aatiafuction 
I  on  the  list,  when  we  compare  out  present  state  as  to  hyuiuody  with 
conditioQ  some  years  ago. 
Wliile  reiiuining'  from  auytljiuj*  h'ke  an  a]:iportionment  of  the  service 
Jtme  to  the  Churi^b  iimong  the  hymu-I?ouks  mentioned  above,  we  may 
renture  to  &ay  that  first  among  the  lirat  staudfi  the  credit  due  to  the 
compilers  of  "  Hynnia  Ancient  and  Modern."    A  very  cursory  survey 
of  the    pages   of  tbU    hymn-Vwok   wUl    suffice   to   ehow   to  which 
hcbool  of  Chui-eh  opinion  it  belongs.      Beroembering  that,  though 
the  streni^h  of  a  nuachiue  is  that  of  its  wuaktjgt  pnrt,  the  streugth  of 
opinion  of  the  author  ol'  a  book  ia  that  of  its  strongest  tjxpreasion,  we 
Ihre  obliged  to  connect  the  editors  of  "  Hymns  Ancient  and  Motlern  " 
with  the  more  adranccd  portion  of  those  who  hold  High   Church 
_Beutiineiit5.     This  being  so,  the  Church  owes  theui  idJ  the  more  f<»r 
iving  so  readily  and  so  thoroughly  adopted  her  very  best  evau- 
hyrans,  and  having  carried  them  into  tlie  lips  and  hearts  of 
jatioiia  to  whom  thtty  couhl  not  othei-wiae  have  reached.     U 
a  cheering  sign  of  the  soundness  at  beart  of  aU  gCMKl  men  among 
when  the  intrin.sic  merita  of  a  bynm,  united  to  the  presence  of 
imeat  faith   in  our  common  Lord,  and  yeaiiiing  love  to  llim,  uri* 
)und  able  to  overhear  all  adventitious  drawbacks  to  its  adoption. 
Having  t.]iui5    acknowledgefl    our  obligittimis.    we    proceed    to    say 
aometiiing  on  the  way  in  which  the  various  compilers  seem  to  us  to 
Biave  performed  their  work.     Tn  oi-der  to  this,  we  will  tirat  consider 
'the  general  plan  of  each  book,  with  reference  to  what  a  chnrcii  bynui- 
hook  ou^ht  to  be. 
■    In  the  a.  P.  C,  K.,  and  ui  Mr,  HqU's  and  Mi'.  Kemhle'a  haoka.'^we 
have  metrical  versions  of  the  Psalms  prefixed  to  the  uollection  of 
hymns.     Let  us  say  at  once  tliat  we  believe  such  an  addition,   for 
lurch  use,  to  he  needless.     Tlie  Psolina  are  ab-eaily  in  om-  Prayer- 
)ka,  and  are  much  better  sung  as  they  staud,  than  in  any  metrical 
rersion,     TJiert;  can  he  no  reason  at  aO,   iji  churches  where  it  may 
impossible  or  inconvenient  always  to  chant  the  whole  Psalma  for 
day,  why  some  should  not  be  chanted  and  son^e  read,  or  the  whole 
etime-s  read  and  6Dmetime.>i  chanted.     Uut  the  poor  travesties  uf 
the  rsaliiis  commoidy  uaed  as  metrical  versions  of  them  were  bettei' 
for  the  most  part  disused.     Those  few  of  these  versions  which  have 
become  well  known,  as,  t-ij.,  "All  people  that  ou  earth  do  dwyll," 


The  Contemporary  Reiriew. 


well  he  incorporated  among  the  Ityrans,  as  indeed  Iiaa  been  done  in 
"  Hymns  Ancient  and  Modern,"  and  in  Mr.  Choi>B's  and  Bosworth's 
coUectiuna.  Unity  is.  the  very  first  essential  of  a  churcli  hymn- 
book. 

The  next  essential  is,  ammgeLient  acconliny  to  the  seasons  of  Oie 
church  yeai'.  This  is  now  very  generally  attended  to;  but  it  is  not, 
it  seems  to  ua,  wuvied  so  far  as  it  aiigfit  to  be.  We  cannot  be  said  tip 
have  arrived  at  the  most  convenient  foiTo  of  a  church  hyiun-booJi, 
iiutO  we  find,  ranged  under  each  Sunday  and  holiday,  enough  hynui^ 
for  the  services  of  that  day.  The  combination  of  prestriptiun  aorl 
selection  is  even  more  troublesome  than  selection  altogether.  Of 
course,  the  freedom  of  the  clergyman  as  to  selecting  need  not  be 
rcttci"ed  liy  such  an  arran^eiiit'nt  as  we  propose :  we  Luiglil  take,  fi-r 
particulM"  txicasious  which  may  arise,  or  to  suit  the  subjects  of 
particular  sermons,  other  hymns  from  any  part  of  the  book,  or  from 
atncrtig  a  store  of  general  hymns  which  might  be  appended  to  it. 

The  arnmgeinent.  in  this  respect,  of  the  church  hymn-books  b^fon; 
ua,  will  be  seen  by  the  following  table : — 


Meicer's  Hynm-book 

S.  P.  C.  K.  ditto 

Q  J  runs    AnciciDt    ar>4 

Moduni  ■. 

Cbope'e  Ilymit-book  . 

Eomble'a  ditto 

Hdl^a  ditto  ....... 


The  eblubuT]-  ditto  . . 
fioEirortli'i  ditto. . . . 

3t«ggBll'e  ditto 


Namlier  of  EymiiH  far  Fcativnl 

lUkd  Peniteatia!  SetiBons  and  Dayb,  <ind 

fbr  Special  Occaoiqiu, 


268.  No  allotment  lo  tlii!  Sunday  a,  except 

the  prixicipa]  fcsttvale. 
199.  Ditto. 

206.  Ditto. 
1S8,   Ditto, 

600.  &ii  tymnB  Blloti«<3  t<j  each  SiinidB.j, 
.unii  otLu  lo  each  minur  fegtiral, 

320.  rour  lij-Miia  oiEotl^d  to  ciich  Sun- 
da-y  mid  great  fi'iitirn],  none  for  the 
Tuinui  feBtJA'ala,  esi.«]it  by  usu  of 
w.  bdc-x. 

127^  No  Qllotn)r>nt,  (except  to  tibe  prin- 
cipal fc^vnld. 

32B.  Thrco  lijinii*  nUottnd  to  eacli  Sitn- 

day,  more  to   tha   t^'at  fe'sdvola, 

Odd  to  each  minor  fystival, 

Allotment  quite  irregulai ;  —  s.  g.,  eleven 

fijT  AJvunt,  six.  for  (llirii.troft»,  ten  fur 

Lent,  fivQ  for  Sunday  before  Easter, 

tilteen  for  EoAtcr,  thirty  for  Sundays 

nAjsr  Trioity :    bpociol  occouoiu   ouo 

irregular. 


4 


If  umber  of 
Goneml  Hjinai. 


U2. 

101. 

67. 

1D2,  calltd  Hfmud  fur 
Sundays     ftftie 
Trinity. 
124- 


J 


11,  tulled,  Hymns  for 
ISundays     ■AEr_ 
Trinity, 

62. 


ituly  one  of  these  Ijooka  (Hall'ti)  is  furnished  with  an  index  of 
auhjects,  so  that  the  task  of  selecting  a  hyiun  to  suit  a  sermon  must 
be  almost  hopeless  in  some  of  thera:   eg.,  among  the  101  general 


Church  Hymn-books. 


437 


hymns  of  the  S.  P.  C.  K.  collection.  It  is  true,  a  partial  exception  to 
this  occura  in  Mercer's  book,  where  the  general  hymas  are  grouped 
acoording  to  subjects. 

It  will  be  evideat  from  the  table,  that  the  most  complete  book,  as 
well  as  that  most  convenient  for  use.  is  Kemble's,  where  ample  pro- 
viaion  ia  made  for  every  l^^^llJ[llay  iti  the  year.  And  when  we  state, 
that  the  small  edition  o{  these  tl24  hymns  (together  with  the  150 
paalma),  in  good  legible  type,  and  bound  in  cloth,  ia  to  be  had  for 
uinepeiice,  it  would  s*em  ils  if  we  need  go  no  farther  for  a  church 
liymu-book,  ConsiJei-iu;;  tlieae  advantages,  and  also  that  the  hymns 
are  for  the  most  pat-b  chosen  to  suit  the  views  of  the  large  and  in- 
Suentitil  EvangeUcal  party,  we  are  not  siiqiriaed  to  soe  at  the  end 
a  list  of  0^4  ehurchea,  at  home  and  an  the  colonies,  where  this 
book  is  io  iiae.     We  shall  return  to  it  in  treating  the  nest  branch 

Lof  tyoj  subject. 

F  In  completeness  of  arrangement,  the  next  on  our  list  are^  Mr.  ITalTs 
book,  and  the  anonymous  book  published  by  Mr.  Bosworth.  Against 
the  former  of  these  we  shall  have  serious  objections  to  make  by-and- 
bye.     And  other  matters  apart,  it  \sa  one  great  objection  to  the  latter, 

■that  three  hymns  for  each  Sunday  can  hardly  satisfy  the  wants  of 
pariah  chui-ches ;  and  thiis  the  necessity  of  selection  cornea  iu,  and 
SAors  the  uaefulness  of  the  hook. 

■  It  13  plain  that  none  of  the  other  colleotions  can  be  said  to  fulfil 
Our  condition.  The  worst  aiTanged  in  this  leapect  is  that  of  the  S.  P. 
C,  K.  Between  the  others  there  is  not  much  to  choose,  except  that 
Mercei''a  grouping   under  subjects   somewhat  eases  the  difficulty  of 

Ieelection. 
lint  we  now  come  to  a  far  more  important  matter;  the  way  in 
which  the  allotment  of  hyiuns  to  different  seasons  and  Sundays  ta 
made;  involving  of  course  the  character,  in  each  case,  of  the  material 
used — the  hymns  themselves. 

»  Speaking  now  not  of  those  higher  requisites,  without  which  no 
hymn  should  be  admittetl  into  Christian  woreliip,  but  of  the  setting  of 
thejii  in  wonls  and  framing  in  verse,  it  seems  to  us  that  a  hymn  is  a 
thing  of  itself,  distinct  from  a  IjTical  poera,  demanding  other  powers 
for  its  production,  and  dependent  for  its  excellence  on  other  qualities. 
Our  English  "  rcrpiw  /tffnmyritwi "  has  sulTered  in   no  small  degree 

■  from  this  having  been  fongotteu.  And  the  principal  iniachief  of  this 
kind  has  l>een  done  in,  or  near  to,  oiu"  own  days.  We  have  witnessed 
the   introduction  into  the  wotsWip  of  the  Church  of  many  hynms 

■  which  have  great  poetical  licatity,  hut  on  tliat  very  account  are  almost 
'  iintitted  for  congregational  use.     It  is  hard  to  apeak  of,  as  offenders  in 

this  respect,  men  to  whom  we  owe  so  much,  as  Bishop  Heber  and 
Dean  Milman.     Yet  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  they  ftrst  set  tlie 


U 


Tite  Contemporary  Review. 


F 


example  of  introducmg  what  may  be  called  "  high  poetry"  into 
liah  hymns.  In  theii'  hands,  the  endeavour  suct&eded,  mistaken  as 
believe  it  to  have  been :  and  many  of  their  hyrana  must  ever  find  fi" 
place  in  all  En[^rlish  collections.  Good  as  they  are,  and  popular,  it  ts 
SI  pity  that  they  liad  not  heeu  better,  by  being  more  chastened  in 
imagery  and  diction.  Then  their  popularity  would  not  have  led,  as 
it  unqueationably  has  done,  to  many  most  misuccessful  im.LtatioBs 
which  unfurtunately  have  now  become  as  popular  as  their  proto- 
types. We  know  we  are  on  very  delicate  {ground;  we  almost  shrink 
from  naming  as  among  this  last  class,  the  favourite  ■"  Nearer,  my  God, 
to  Thee,"  aud  the  still  mom  popular  ".Jerusalem  the  golden;"  and 
having  done  so,  we  break  off  the  list,  for  fear  of  seeming  to  be  uphold- 
ing a  parados  irom  mere  caprice.  ' 

Highly  poetic  diction  and  imagery  are  not  and  cannot  be  under- 
Btood  by  the  great  mass  of  a.n  English  congregation.  The  charm  of 
thoae  few  strains  in  "The  Christian  Year"  "wliich  can  be  used  ew 
hymns  is,  their  perfect  simplicity  in  the  midst  of  higli  but  chastened 
poetry.  And  the  reason  why  more  of  that  delightful  book  cannot  be 
so  U«ed  is,  that  the  poetical  and  rlietoiical  elements  have  prevailed.  Uj 
the  overpowering  of  the  hymnic  character,  w^k 

One  of  the  best  books  before  us,  Use  anonymous  "  Cliurcb  Hymns^i 
published  by  Mr,  Ugawortb,  sets  forth  in  its  iVeface  a  profession  ^r 
having  aimod  at  tt  higher  standard  of  pftetie  exfielknee  than  othei 
collectious.     We  were  agreeably  disajipointed  to  find  the  editor's  red 
meaning  to  be,  that  he  has  endeavoiired  to  choose  none  but  really 
i}mHl  hymns.     Jlis  errors  in  tlie  direction  of  his  own  principle  ha™ 
been  but  few.     He  has  indeed  admitte<.l  that  "chrononhotontbologoe«J 
of  hymns,  the  disagreeable  &o-cjJled  "  alleluJatic  seq^uence;"*  but  «^M 
has  not  inserted  the  even  more  dL^agrGeable,  though  also  mote  pcjetical 
address  to  a  atai-,  "  Brightest  and  best  of  the  Sons  of  the  Jfloraing," 
■which,   absent  from   the  pages  of  "  HjTnna  Ancient  and  Modem." 
Hall's,  Stcggall's,   and  the   Rali.'sbuTy  liymn-book,    is   yet  found  in 
Mercer,  the  S.  P.  C.  K.  book,  Cltope,  and  Kcmble. 

From  over-poetical  the  tmnsition  is  easy  to  sensational,  or  poetic 


^ 


*  By-tte-bj,  why  do  a  certain  gcTiool  of  Engliah  hymn-wTiten.  penist  in  dropiiing  tbe 
A  at  the  bcginnicg  and  end  of  "  Halldujaii''  t  The  GrEpks,  lakinn  ihc  word  from  the 
Hebrew,  nmitlcd  the  A  at  the  end,  09  f  osaesaing  no  means  of  reprweiitiiig  it  *  taiA  wbai 
thn  anthora  of  thf  fiorly  Lotin  reraBonfl,  ignorant  as  Ihey  were  of  Rrihnirr,  took  the 
AWtf^avia  from  Oreek  written  vilhout  brcalhiogs,  th^y  sutu rally  drupp^  &)m>  tlie  A  It 
the  beginning,  nnd  repre^gnted  tie  word  by  "■  AHeluin."  But  our  trnlLglator^  by  ttni 
^^mng  it  in  lie  Book  of  E-evelation,  were  mding  ngninit  their  plnin  inatruc'tions,  to  rendsi 
evnry  proper  name  umfarmly  ;  ond  now  that  the  Iltihrcw  is  rami  liar  to  us,  it  id  simply 
inexcusable  BD  to  vrilc  it,  snd  noie^t-Q  pieca  df  aJfectaCion  of  Latin  funua even  wliuro  wrong, 
tie  it  rcmi'm bored,  likDwijf,  that,  by  tliue  writing  it,  tlir  rompogitiun  And  iiinderirg  cf  tbe 
word  ore  dieguiaed,  imd,  whiuli  it  even  of  more  imporUniv,  the  Socnd  Jfame  ftltogeti 
obliWmtad. 


Church  Hymn-books.  439 

sensational  hymns.    And  these  are  evrai  more  objeotionabla     We 
cannot  forbear  giving  one  specimen  of  the  kind  of  hymns  we  mean : — 

"  Fi«rce  ma  Uie  wild  billow. 

Dark  vaa  the  night, 
OaiB  laboured  bwvily, 

Foam  glimmered  wlnte : 
Trembled  the  —"■■''— , 

P«il  vuni^: 
<  Men,' Mid  the  Ood  of  God, 

*  Pewe !    It  ie  I !' 

"  Bidge  of  tiie  mountain-waTe, 

Lower  thy  oreat : 
Tail  of  Euroclydon, 

Be  thou  atieat: 
Sorrow  can  never  be, 

Darkness  must  fiy, 
Where  saith  the  IJght  of  Li^t, 

'Pfiacel    It  is  I  r' 

"  Jean,  DeliTereri 

Come  Thou  to  me : 
Soothe  Thou  my  voyagiiig 

Over  life'i  ua : 
Thou,  when  the  atorm  of  Death 

Boars,  sweeping  by, 
"Whisper,  0  Truth  of  Truth, 

•Peace!    Itial!'" 

This,  or  anything  approaching  to  this,  ought  rigorously  to  be  ex- 
dnded  from  all  charch  hymn-books.  It  is  not  taken  from  any  of  the 
collections  on  our  present  list,  nor,  we  are  glad  to  say,  have  they  been 
great  offenders  in  this  respect.  The  Salisbury  hjonn-book  baa,  we 
Uunk,  most  yielded  to  the  temptation  of  inserting  sensational  h3anns. 
But  if  high  poetry,  or  the  imitation  of  it,  be  undesirable,  still  more 
80  is  mere  jingle,  without  any  poetry  or  feeling.  And  of  tliis  we  fear 
Uie  books  on  oiu:  present  list  are  far  more  frequently  guilty.  Take 
this  example  from  the  Salisbury  book, — 

'*  So  shall  He  collect  as,  direct  us,  protect  us. 
From  Egypt's  strand : 
So  shall  He  precede  us,  and  feed  ns,  and  lead  us 
To  Canaan's  land. 

"  TdQe  and  foes  assailing,  friends  quailing,  hearts  failing. 
Shall  thieat  in  vain : 
If  He  be  providing,  presiding,  and  gniding 
To  TTim  again. 

"  Christ,  ouj  Leader,  Monarch,  Pleader,  Interoeder, 
Praise  we  and  adore : 
Exultation,  veneration,  gratulatum, 
Bringing  evermore." 


The  Contempormy  Review. 


Or  ugaiiii  the  foUowing  frrim  the  same  book,  for  Triniby  Sunday  -.— 

■"Trinity,  Unity,  Deity 

Eternftl; 
H&jeHty,  I'otaicf,  BriUiAnoy 

Supernal  1 
First  &D1I  Lul,  End  and  Cbuu>, 
King  of  kings.  Law  of  Uwv, 

Judge  of  all, 
Rcund  whose  throne  iingplB.  faU  : 
Thee  Ihty  laud.  Thee  adflrei 
Theo  they  chuit  evermore,*' 

It  really  paius  us  to  quote  audi  (loggrul  iii  combtnatiou  with  tlie 
highest  and  most  siiereid  ol"  doctTinea.  Mr.  Kemble's  book  errs  less  in 
the  insertion  of  woi+hless  hyniiis  than  raight  be  expected  from  its 
move  miscoUaneous  character.  We  bad  noticed  a  few  as  unworthy  of 
the  jjlace  they  hold :  but  after  our  last  specimena.  we  shall  forbear 
citiiif?  them,  as  their  delinqiienwces  would  be  altogether  eclipsed, 

OflerieeB  s^aiust  taste,  which  also  are  offences  against  reverenoe, 
are  of  frequent  occurrence  iu  the  body  of  English  hynins.  Many  of 
theso  detive  their  origin  frum  a  time  not  so  diacruninatiug  in  the  use 
of  words  apd  phrases  as  our  own ;  and  some  of  the  best  of  thera  wew 
composed  by  meii  who  cared  more  for  the  life  and  unction  of  their 
expressions,  than  for  that  decoi^nis  tind  uiiimpassioned  equilibriimi 
wlncli  we,  in  our  dny,  are  not  allowed  to  overstep.  Sometimes  again, 
descriptions  and  similitudes,  familiar  enough  when  the  hyinjis  of  the 
ancient  C'hurch  were  tised,  have  been  retained  in  translation,  or  imi- 
tated, and  even  esceeded,  in  their  objectionable  points.  Witueaa  the* 
two  stanaas  in  the  SaJiabury  hymn  for  St.  Stephen's  day: — 

"  Lika  a  g^in,  each  rugged  slone 
Sparkling  with  hb  lir«-liloCHl,  ihone  : 
Scorn  tTould  soem  lew  hright  and  keen 
Studded  roimd  Ms  head  strcac. 

"  pTom  hi*  furehead'a  gUBLiug-  atreama 
Dtirt  a  thouHAncI  blending  beuma, 
Till  hie  tisiigti  beams  in  grace 
0/ glory,  like  on  iii^'s  face,"* 

We  may  mention  that  the  hymn,  "  Lo  He  comes  with  cloiub 
desueuding,"  as  given  in  "  Hymns  Ancient  and  Modern,"  Chope,  and 
the  Salisbury  book,  contains  one  stanza — the  third — wluch  ooght 
ue\'(;r  to  ha\'&  been  printed  in  a  laodem  church  hynm-baok- 

To  this  clasa — offences  against  taste  fiud  reverence — we  must  also 
refer  the  now  very  frequent  sensuous  representations  of  our  blessed 
Lord's  Passion,  and  of  our  participation  in  its  benefits.  Tliese,  as  our 
raadera  know,  abound  in  the  hymns  and  books  of  the  Bomish  Church. 

*  The  coropoAor  of  this  hymn  muat  h«Te  forgotten  that  it  wU  \itXatt  the  Council,  ud 
not  during  the  martyrdom,  that  St.  Stephen's  fJuc  w«fl  oi  the  faea  of  on  imgeL 


Ckyrch  Hymn-books. 


441 


Ind  we  are  sorry  to  say,  tliey  also  abounil  in  the  pages  or  "  Hymns 
iiicient  and  Modern,"  and  in  Chope's  bqrik,  which  is,  in  so  roMiy 
larticulars,  a  copy  of  "  Hymns  Aitcictit  aad  MoJcrn."  We  forbear 
0  give  examples,  but  will  refer  the  reader  tu  such  hymns  as  91  in 
'Hymns  Ancient  and  Modern  : "  alao  93  and  94 ;  and  93  in  Cliope. 

It  seems  to  iis  a  uiiatiikc  to  insist  on  hymna  intended  for  public 
(rorship  l>eing  expreaaed  in  the  plural  mimber.  Undoubtedly  there  is 
It  first  sight  a  prnpriety  in  a  multitude  thus  speaking.  But  when  we 
that  that  multitude  is  uo  ordinary  assembly,  but  the  Church  of 
who  ai'e  one  iu  Clirist,  the  case  is  somewhat  altered,  and  thu 

im4  /acU'  view  becomes  modified.  Tho  sinyular  has  no  longer  a 
iifljonetive  hut  an  uniting;  effect;  whei-eua  the  plural,  in  all  caaes 
tocpressiiig  individual  feeling,  gives  rather  the  separate  units  than  the 
unalganiitteil  whnle.  We  doubt  whether  it  will  not  be  found  that 
he  very  best  experimental  and  spiritual  h^nnns  of  all  ages  of  the 
Uhnrch  have  been  in  the  ain-^adar,  from  the  fifty-first  and  the  twenty- 
hird  Psalms  downwaixis,  Certainly  tliis  ia  trua  of  our  own  English 
lymns.  The  two  which  stand  out,  as  prominent  in  depth  of  holy 
eeling.  as  in  simplicity  of  expression,  "  Kock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me," 
md  "Jt^aUt  lover  of  my  soul,"  though  throughout  in  the  singular, 
lave,  we  will  venture  to  eay,  carried  the  united  praises  of  the  great 
Bongregation  &a  gfteu  as  any  in  the  language.*  The  same  is  true  of 
lishop  Ken's  Morning  and  Evening  and  Midnight  Hymns,  and  oi' 
Keble's  hitrdly  less  beautiful  Evening  Hymn,  and  of  hundi-eds  of  others 
irhich  haA  u  become  household  words  iu  the  Church  of  England,  and 
trill  continue  so  as  long  as  she  shall  endure.  Mistakes,  some  of  them 
if  a  curious  kind,  hftve  been  made  iu  the  books  before  ua,  in  altering 
^e  diction  of  hymns  from  the  singular  to  the  plural.  In  the  S.P.C.K. 
BollectioD,  hjTim  172,  Bishop  Ken's  words  are  altered  to,  "We  wake, 
*re  woke,  yt  heavenly  choir."t  The  impression  given  by  tliis,  if  sung 
>ft*r  sermon,  might  be  a.  little  awkward. 

■  Witli  regard  Id  tlie  latter  of  these  hjinnSj  we  are  truly  ooneoTinsd  to  find  ourselves  »o 
Bpmplctely  nt  iBniie  witi  ihu  esccllmit  ArehdenLon  "Wordiworth.  He  »p*.-akB  in  tho  rwfBce 
Id  hia  "Holy  Year,"  ai  its  Ewo  first  liaea  in  tcruie  which  we  mniiitBiu  ihey  are  tJie 
fcrUic«t  posaibk-  Enam  <Ie*orviiig.  We  i3<)libl  wlietber  sjiy  who,  wbo  bas  usud  und  (til  tliB 
kyUDt  Would  eVt-r,  otiattoimt  of  a  hardly  ambiguous  word  in  its.  lirat  liiiu,  aUribiiUn  tfii  it  an 
'■mfltory'"  ehorattef.  Every  word  of  rsery  line  jiriiU-sta  agninal  bul'Ii  Rii  intcrprcUtion. 
rhe  vtole  B!>tKl  of  the  hymn  \i  tlial  of  one  ddenceltsa  and  in  peril,  living  lu  Chiiei  for 
keliei',  "Iaivot  of  my  muI"  boa  a  1-otiUly  diffL-TtJiil  miiSJiiiig;  from  thai  wliict  tte  Aruh- 
lew»D  BwigiiK  to  it;  ''Let  mo  to  thy  bo*jni  fly"  ia  aMrosBod  to  Him  wlm  mrrius  the 
Voolc  iini  dc-renciclesi  uf  tbe  floct  in  His  Uosom.  The  tone  pf  this  lllaf,^lili^l'nt  hyma  ia 
But  ai  the  deepest  revertnee  ;  and  it  ia  passing  strango  how  one  of  Dr.  Wordaworth'a 
pcmetrat'ien  should  bnve  bo  totally  misaod  the  poiut  of  it. 

fit  may  be  noted  tbil  the  original  appears  to  have  been:  "  Awcikfr,  awake,  ye  hca^Bul; 
;"  then  it  bccaine,  po&sibly  und<;r  the  Biahop'R  ciws  hand  (lor  we  (Jnd  l>otli  funua) ; 
lur,  1  wuki-,"  and  so  in  Uio  pluraliKing  of  tlw  'I'mct  C(Jiiuuitlb>0  \il  the  B.P.C.E., 
Wb  wnke,  wb  wnkQ," 

VOL.  I.  3  G 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


liefore  wc  pass  from  thia  part  of  ciur  subject,  sr>metking  must  lie 
said  of  what  seems  fco  us  the  mexcusable  practice  of  the  wfaoleisale 

aJtevation  of  hymna.  Of  course  something  must  be  allowed  for  the 
fj^reat  ililficulty,  in  tliia  res[>eet,  which  beseta  the  editors  of  hymn- 
booka  It  is  not  always  poanihle  to  adopt  entire  what  might  by  the 
chauge  of  a  few  words  he,  or  appear,  an  appropriate  hyum.  We  will 
take  ofi  a  enicial  instance  the  grand  hymn  of  J^oddridge's,  "  Ye  aer 
vants  of  the  Lord,  Eacli  in  hia  office  wait."  Doddridge  wrote  the  last 
stanza  of  that  hymn, — 

"  Chriat  stall  die  table  spread 
Witji  Hie  own  roynl  lum^ 
And  raige  ihat  fDvourite  servant's  liMid 
Amidst  tliH  augelii:  buid." 

Here,  one  word^  "  favourite,"  is  the  dead  fly  in  the  ointment.  Hov 
came  lie  to  write  it,  with  "  Well  done,  good  ami  faithl'id  servant,"  befonj 
him  ?  To  substitute  "  faitlifiil"  for  "  favourite"  m  really,  in  a  case  of 
tliis  l<uid,  more  a  matter  of  <bity  than  of  choice.  And  doubtliss  the 
aimie  may  occur  soraetimea  with  more  than  single  words;  where  the 
hymn  writer  lia,s  missed  some  expreasion  or  application  lying  cloae 
to  his  subject,  and  hlled  the  place  with  what  may  seem  irrelevant 
matter.  But  ia  aU  such  eases  we  ought  to  be  especially  carefuL 
Ajiy  one  can  mar  a  hymn,  which  not  one  in  ten  thousand  could  have 
made.  Kxamples  Lontinually  occur  in  almost  all  our  hymn-books, 
where  the  editors  have  entirely  miaaed  the  sense  of  the  words  which 
they  thus  bunglmgly  alter.  Our  tiunalatora  of  the  Bible  are  said  to 
have  reeciived  an  ajiplication  suggesting  a  change  in  a  word,  aad 
stating  five  reasons  for  its  adoption.  Tlie  reply  was  a  thiuUifid 
aeknowledgment,  stating  that  the  tianslatora  had  fifteen  reasonH 
against  it.  And  so,  if  the  hynm  writer  were  consnltejij  would  it  often 
turn  out  to  he  with  proposed  alterations  of  bis  work.  Indeed  he  of 
all  men  is  much  to  be  [)itied  in  this  matter,  He,  poor  mau,  in  hia 
bookseller's  shop,  tiirua  over  on  the  counter  some  hymn-bouk  of  great 
pretension  and  highly  accredited,  perhaps  with  its  cii-culation  of  mil- 
lions. A  hymn  of  hia  own  flatters  his  eye ;  and  liable  as  he  ia  to 
liuman  wciUinesa,  a  certain  pleasurable  sensation  comes  over  bim: 
doometl,  alas,  to  give  way  to  how  bitter  disappointment,  when  he 
sees  that  the  very  keystone  of  his  tboiiyhta  has  been  taken  out,  and 
the  place  supplied  hy  8ome  trumpery  stop-gap,  whoso  greatest  merit 
Would  lie  to  have  no  nienning  at  wU,  seeing  that  whatever  it  has,  mars 
and  vidgarizes  the  whole. 

Of  the  book&  before  us  which  adopt  this  practice,  it  is  bard  to  say 
which  is  the  worst.  As  I'ar  as  wc  have  examined,  Bosworlli  and 
Mercer  are   comparatively  free  from    it.     The   editors   of  "  Hymns 


Church  Hymn-books. 


443 


I 
I 
I 


Ancient  and  Modera"  have  iiiclulged  m  it  lar  too  often :  indeed  some 
of  its  worst  examplos  are  to  be  found  ui  tlieir  pugea.  !N'otliiiig  can 
excuse  tt  wlien  detilin*;  ^vith  the  hymns  of  living;  writers.  The  aiithot 
may  be  always  coaaiilt-efl  as  to  auy  desireil  tdiaiij^e,  and  if  liis  consiait 
be  withheld^  the  hymn  might  not  to  be  used.  We  are  sony  to  Bay 
tliat  such  lias  not  lieeii  tlie  pmetice  of  the  editors  of  "  Hymns  Ancient 
aad  iloderiL"  Having  tnl\en  Uyiiina  originally  without  any  applica- 
tion to  Uie  autlior,  and  having  clmi^d  the  wonliiig  so  as  to  make 
liim  respojiaible  in  the  eyes  of  the  public  fifr  sentiments  veiy  diifereut 
frum  those  of  his  ohti  composition,  they  have,  when  applied  to, 
declined  to  correct  tha  fault,  pdlegiiig  ms  an  excuse  their  extensive 
■.irculation.  That  is.  they  refused  repnration  on  aucount  of  the  jnag- 
nitude  of  the  injmy  inflicted.  The  conduct  of  the  Tract  Committee 
of  the  Christian  Knowledge  Society  forms  a  favqutuUe  contrast.  In 
one  of  the  cases  referred  to,  they  had  copied  the  "  amended"  hymn 
from  "  HjTiins  Ancient  and  Modern,"  trusting  tu  the  hij^h  chanuiter 
and  good  faith  of  that  collection.  But,  on  being  made  aware  of  their 
they  nt  once  cancelled  the  leaf,  and  inserted  tlie  hymn  in  ita 
,uine  state. 

Of  the  other  books  before  us,  Mr.  Hall's,  or  the  "Mitre"  hyiim- 
ik,  so  much  nsed  in  London  churches,  is  very  fiJl  of  unlicensed 
mostly  uniutelliyent  alterations.  .Sometimes  even  i.vhoIe  stanzas 
of  miserable  wigh-wash  are  inserted  in  the  middle  of  well-known 
h}'mna  ;  and  far  more  often,  the  worda  and  sentiinenta  aTe  robljed  of 
their  imetion  and  point  to  anit  the  required  mediocrity  of  the  sthool 
to  which  the  hook  Injlongs. 

But  we  pass  from  a  time  when  such  thinf;s  were  not  well  under- 
stood, and  therefore  perliajie  more  excusable,  to  one  of  the  most  recuut 
of  our  collections ;  that  for  the  music  of  which  (uo  name  of  auy  one 
toj^veii  as  eilitor  of  the  hymns)  Dr.  Stegj^all  is  responsible.     It  were 
T>e  liui»ed  that,  in  IHtiS,  we  did  understand  somewdiat  more  about 
the  proprieties  of  eilitiny  hymns  than  some  twenty  years  ago.     But 
in  this  book  we  lind  the  "  mcoct/ies  miitnmii"  still  mging  at  its  fulL 
Our  readiJi's  all  know  the  common  Advent  liymn,  begiiimng,— 

"  Hark  !  the  glwl  goiuid  I   Ihn  Smriour  cDmies, 
Thu  BBfTOnr  pn>mieed  long: 
Lot  erery  heart  prepare  a  ULniae, 
And  every  voice  a  aong.'' 

T^i  what  must  be  the  feelings  of  any  among  fchera,  who  have  always 
thus  known  it,  to  see  it  disguised  as  follows: — 

"  Hnrk  I  joyful  aormil  I  tliB  B^viguj  CKUDCS, 
The  bavioiir  pni'misCMl  long': 
Xjei  every  heart  bo  mehidy, 
And  every  voice  Iw  song:." 


444 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


Now  eveiy  change  here  is,  as  usual,  for  the  worse.  "  Jnyful,"  besiiiea 
heijig  altogether  ■without  justifying  reason,  introduces  another  ^wijf/c, 
of  -whit^h  our  En<flisli  hymns  arc  always  too  full,  in  the  harsh  soiJiiil 
of  tlie  "/"  "  Let  eveiy  heart  l>e  intslody,"  is  absolute  and  hopelesct 
nonsense.  We  may  "  make  melody  in  our  heaits,"  as  we  may  make 
liymus  in  our  housea  ;  hut  the  heart  is  nf>t  melody,  any  more  tliau 
Iht!  house  is  a  hymn.  And  "  Let  every  voice  he  song"  is  lUmost  equal 
nonaense.  The  voice  ia  the  instrument  aod  vehicle  of  song,  but  is  not 
it8e]f  song,  any  more  than  a  pianoforte  is  music.  Tlien  a^'aiii :  in  the 
last  verse  of  the  aaine  well-knowii  hymn,  the  ori^nal  ventures  on 
two  lines  expressing  something  like  feeling,  in  something  like  ]H>etii: 
diction.    Ergo,  they  Tuust  he  sacrifiiiGd.     The  stanza  stood  thus  : — 

*'  Our  pInJ  lloittnooa,  Prince  of  PeBce, 
Thini^  advent  Bha.ll  proclnim: 
And  btaTL'n's  ctenml  uTttea  ring 
Will  Thj  beloved  Nnjno." 

To  what  does  the  reader  suppose  the  two  last  lines  have  dwindled 
down  ? — 

"  And  BVi»ry  knee  in  woriblp  bow 

To  Thy  moat  holy  Namp." 

Of  course  ;  hut  what  do  these  words  express  of  joy  in  the  great  day  of 
joy  ?  What  do  they  express  at  all  which  is  not  done  now  hy  the 
waiting  Cliurch  ?  Tlit  original  words,  not  perhajis  faultless,  had  yet 
this  to  I'ecommenid  tliein ;  thcy  set  in  contrast  the  jierwhable  arches 
of  the  material  thuTch.  with  the  starry  vaults  of  the  heavenly  Jera- 
aalem;  our  feeble  hosatmas  here,  with  the  great  shout  of  the  midii- 
tude  whom  no  man  may  number;  they  brought  before  us  that  rin^n-; 
of  tiie-  streets  of  Jerusalem  on  eaith  with  the  hosanuas  of  the  palm- 
btai-ing  crowd,  and  the  great  day  which  that  lowly  Ad%-ent  pre- 
figured.  Where  is  all  this,  to  the  choirs  who  sing  the  "amended" 
version  ?  Gone  i  hopelessly  gf>ne ;  and  in  its  place  a  weak  miserable 
commonplace,  unworthy  of  a  schoolboy'a  exei-cise.  And  such,  we 
assure  our  readers,  is  hut  a  specimen  of  this,  in  the  matter  of  words  of 
hymns,  certainly  the  least  satisffact-ory  of  the  hooks  at  the  bead  of  oiu' 
article.  We  cannot  forbear  giving  a  ft'w  more  apectmens  of  changes 
from  this  hook  (which,  by  the  way,  was  praised  in  some  "opinions  of 
the  press  "  for  the  judiciouanesa  of  its  ttlLeiations) ; — 

OtiinraAi.. 
"Till  thoo  I  would  Thy  lova  proolaini. 

With  ovury  flc«tin(f  brenlb." 
"  How  sweet  the  nnmc  of  Jcbuh  Bounds^ 

Id  fflbelieTei-'Bffli'!:*' 
"  forbid  it,  Lorii,  that  I  fbonU  boMt, 
Save  in  tht  dtatli  of  Cbrist  my  GoA. : 
All  [be  vain  tbinga  that  chanu  me  moat, 
[  snciific*.'  tLem  to  Ha  blood." 


TRATMira. 
"Slill  let  its  puWLT  our  heart  uiflamtt, 

Fanned  by  lb«  Spirit'*  hreaiL  (!)." 

"  In  faith's  attentive  ear !  " 
"  0  may  I  know  np  olher  1)0111% 

Than  Chriat  tiiid  llia  atmiii^g  btocid^ 

The  Vaiu  dclighti  that  clwrni  me  moEt, 

I  plunga  beneath  that  UTiiig  flood." 


I 


W  Surelv  th 


Church  Hymn-books. 


TltAVlHTIB. 
"  Wlen  I  Imur  the  tniiitilgbt  «ry, 
TeUing  Ihot  th«  Judge  is  nigh." 


Surely  the  force  of  absurdity  cftii  hardly  go  farther  thftn  thiB,  "pliing- 
ing  delights  in  a  saving  flot>d  "  1 

UuitllN'flL. 

**  When  I  sou  thro-  tnicU  iliOcddwh, 
See  Thee  on  Thy  juOijiBeot  Throne. "" 

Wii  thought  it  Wiis  tha  HruUifroQvi  whom  the  iiiidnight  cry  aunaunced. 
Sitrely  we  have  a  right  to  demand  that  Sciiplure  symbolism  should 
l>e  kept  inviolate. 

OwyWAL.  Tr4T«TI11. 

"  Them,  whose  Almighty  word        -  "  God,  whose  Almighly  void. 

Chaos  and  ilcu-khfM  hcud.  In  the  b^'gimiinp  b^-nri, 

And  look  thtir  flight."  Put  ^oata  to  flight  (!)  " 

Here,  besides  the  niisemble  Unas  in  lien  of  veiy  fine  ones,  is  a  positive 
historical  (am!  gcnliijficiil?)  error.  It  was  not  in  Ike  hajinning  that 
God  said  "Let  tlieru  be  light;"  but  having  made  the  heavens  and 
earth  in  the  beginning,  at  a  certain  iiiin!,  when  darkiiusa  was  up«5n 
the  face  of  the  deep,  He  utt/ered  these  wonhi. 


UrIOI!**.!.. 

"  Judge  not  the  I^  ird  by  fochle  eense, 
But  trust  Him  for  IIU  gnwc : 
&eJund  D  Irow^ning  I'rovidfiiiee 
Be  hides  a  BtniJiug  face." 


•Tuavehtib. 
'  Jud^  not  thu  Lord  ;  let  feeble  sight 

To  loving  Fuith  givewoy; 
The  brighter  for  the  moonleM  aifhl 
"Will  shinL'  tliL'  perfutt  doy-" 


Poor  Cciwper!  was  Kver  such  stuff?     Notice^  that  the  contrasts  ate, 
"ftd/lt "  artd  "  hiHmj,"  "  m-Do-nlcss  "  and  " pcr/rnC     Itul  that  ia  not  all : 


Ohio  [x*  I.. 
"  nis  piirimscB  nrill  ripen  f»at, 
Unfoiding  eyery  huiir:: 
Thi!  bud  may  have  a  bitter  luak, 
But  aweet  will  Iw  thu  flou-er," 


TlUVBSTlB- 
♦'  IIiB  purpuK  He  in  timo  will  show, 
Uofoldiug  it  tAch  bciiir; 
Tbo  hud  in  form  unloved  may  givw. 
Yet  Ijitc]}-  be  tin*  flower." 

found  "All 


We  really  exiHJuted,  after  such  specinwjus,  to  ha\'tj 
people  that  on  t-arth  reside  "  suhatitutetl  for  the  tirst  line  of  the  Old 
Hundredth  I'saliiL  We  venture  to  expreas  a  wish  that  "  Hymtis 
for  the  Churcli  of  Engloud^  with  Proper  Tiiiies,"  may  be  used  when 
all  otlier  eoUectioiis  oru  forgotten,  but — not  till  theu. 

There  are  two  or  three  minor  matters,  mgarditig  usage  in  liyT&u- 
singijig,  ill  the  Churcli  of  Kugland,  which  it  is  perhaps  now  the 
jjroper  place  to  discuss.  One  of  tlieau  is,  the  attaching  a  doxology  to 
every  hymn.  Certainly  this  would  seem  tu  be  justified,  if  not  in 
s-omu  measure  prescribetl,  b/  the  iujuniction  in  the  I'myer-book  Ui 
close  tjach  portion  of  the  Tsaluis  with  ascription  of  pi'aisc  to  the 
Blessed  Trinity.  But  perhaps  on  coosidLn-ation  tliia  may  appear  uol 
t«  be  quite  a  sound  conolusioix  T)nj  PgtJiJi.s  l>eiiig  songs  of  the  Old 
Testament  Church,  mij|fhi  rti^uirG,  for  pinposes  of  Christian  pmise,  fcMa 
continual  remembrojiee  of  the  revealed  covenfint  God  of  the  New 
Testament.      And   doubtless,  analogy  would  suggest  to  tlie  Clinrcli 


44^  Tfie  Contemporary  Review. 

similarly  to  conclude  many,  if  not  most,  of  her  own  liynius.  But  we 
v&ry  mueli  question  whether  the  practice,  almost  invariable  in  aoTiie 
iif  thtse  books,  of  ending  witli  a  d[oxolo|,y.  does  not  tend  to  olt- 
scure  the  seiise  and  diminish  the  effect  in  some  cases,  e5|>©ciaU)' 
when,  as  in  many  examples  which  we  could  cite,  a  stanza  of  the 
origins!  hymii,  which  was  n&ceasaty  to  the  sense,  has  bwu  otuittwl 
to  lu&ke  room  for  the  doxology.  There  are  many  eases  wliei-o  it  1.9 
mo3t  appiiipriate.  No  one,  for  instance,  ever  found  fault  with  it  in 
Bishop  Ken's  Morning  and  Evening  Hynms,  nor,  we  may  add,  in 
any  Iiymns  of  geiieiul  praise ;  nor  in  any  where  the  stanzas  are  dis- 
imited,  beintf  separate  expi-essious  of  a  geneml  spirit  pervading  tlie 
whole.  But  whero  the  hymn  is  a  continuous  setting  forth  of  one 
sentiment,  deHt-riptivc,  supiilicatory,  or  didactic,  it  seems  to  us  that 
the  doxology  is  far  better  dis^ienaed  with. 

Again,  there  \v\^  of  latu  prevailed  a  cuatom,  originating  in  "high" 
jjlflcea,  but  having  ihjw  passed  almost  through  tin:  hyuiiuifiy  of  the 
CTiurch  of  England,  of  nddiug  an  "  Amen  "  at  the  end  of  every  hymn. 
It  may  he  dilfieult  fcff  stem  so  \nde  ami  fnU  a  stream ;  but  we  have 
wo  liesitntion  in  saying,  that  we  think  the  practice  generally  ohjec- 
tionahlo.  Musically,  it  cannot  for  a  moment  be  defended.  The 
rhytlim  of  the  hymn  concludes  with  the  tune ;  tlie  tw<D  notes  exprctis- 
ing  tlie  "  Amen  "  are  iiisnhited  fmm  it,  and  cuuie  painfully  on  the  ear, 
whicli  is  already  satisfied  witli  the  completed  time  of  tha  time  itdelf. 
Nor  can  the  usage  he  juatifted  by  the  continually  recun'iug  "  Amen " 
after  the  weitatiun  of  the  prayers  nn  the  monotone.  That  recitfttiau 
is  unbiin-edj  and  liaa  no  reference  to  time.  Nor,  agaiii„  lias  this 
"Amen"  at  the  end  of  hymus  any  analogy  with  that  which  is 
included  iu  the  haired  setting  of  the  doxologies  at  tlie  end  of  our 
harmonized  "  iser\'icea."  It  is  altoyetlier  an  excrescence,  and  in  our 
opinion,  offensive  to  tiie  ear.  And  what  is  even  worse,  it  is,  except 
when  the  hyiim  concludes  with  the  doxologj',  or  with  a  distinct 
ascription  of  praise,  or  a  direct  address  in  prayer,  out  of  jJace,  and 
inipaiiing  to  the  sense-.  Take  an  example,  occurring  in  hymn  149  of 
Stej^ttU's  book : — 

■"  0  hnppy  place  I 

Wlicn  ah  all  I  be, 
My  God,  with  Tliee, 
To  aeo  Thy  face  P    Amen." 

Or  in  bymn  12G  of  the  same:— 

"0  happy  band  of  pJlgrimB, 
Luok  upward  to  lh«  skisA : 
Whcr*  aurh  a  light  niBiirtion, 

Shall  win  you  such  a  prize.     Ameu-" 

There  is  yet  one  other  point,  and  that  has  refepeni>e  to  the  arrauup- 
ment  for  the  year  of  tlie  Church.     For  every  .Sunday,  there  ahonld  1» 


I 


Chiirck  Hymn-books. 


447 


iiir  bymns.     Of  theee  fmiv  hymns,  llie  first  will  iu  all  proba- 
it  suug  between  the  Moraing  I'rayer  and  th-e  Communion 
'  SerWce.     At  tljis  place  was  anciently  sunj^'  ILe  Intruit — the  liynui 
I  coincidiny  with   the   e&trance  of  tke  miaister  into  the  euclmiistic 
■portion  of  the  sen-ice:  bis  ^^c>n\%,  ajj  we  should  plimse  it,  up  to  the 
jypomnmnioii  Table.     In  Kinjf  Etlward  the  Sixth's  Hrst  I^rayer-boolt, 
RRirtain  poi-tious  of  the  Psalms  wen?  appoiiiteil  to  be  sung  in  this  place 
Bs  IntToits  on  the  Sundays  in  the  year.     In  our  putsei-it  Trayer-book 
these  do  not  appear:  and^  ctmsiilering  that  the  whole  Psalter  is  sung 
through  once  a  month,  iuiil  thiia  tlia  lutroits  would  often  repeat  por- 
tions already  used,  it  wuuld  not  be  ad\'i.sable,  if  indeed  it  were  lawl'ul, 
to  bring  them  hack  into  use.     But  we  may  venture  to  say,  that  the 
hymn  used  iji  thLs  place  ou^bt  to  be  of  the  nattn-e  of  an  Introit  for 
the  particular  Sunday:  ought  to  reHect  the  subject  then  before  the 
Church,  aud  to  have,  reference,  either  to  tlie  Lesions  lately  read,  or  to 
the  Epiatle  or  Clospel  whiuli  is  about  to  Ibllow.     That  tin  regard  bos 
been  paid  to  this  in  the  books  before  U9,  would  be  too  niucli  to  say 
iMicaiise  in  airanging  the  hymns  aceoi-diiig  to  the  Clmstian  senicea, 
tlie  end  ha.'j  genei-aUy,  during  the  perioil  of  fast  and  festival,  been  more 
or  less  aubaerved.     Pint  in  the  leas  plainly  marked  portion  of  the  yeav, 
in  the  Sundays  after  Epipbanj',  tjistei',  and  Trinity,  we  have  very  little 
if  any  reeogtiition  of  auch  a  priaciplu'.     Tins  is  a  matter  wluoh  ought 
to  be  specially  kept  in  mind  in  dmwiuy  up  t'liurub  liyum-books ;  and 
with  regard  to  which  cerUinly  we  have  not  yet  seen  the  book  whicli 
the  Cburoli  wants.     Tbei-e  oan  be  no  i-eaaou  why  a  sut  of  Iiitroit- 
bymua  should  not  be.id  the   four  selected  for  each  Sunday,  wliich 
Introits  might  gain  general  in:oeptaiKifl,  and  even   supersede  in  our 
cathedral  and  chond  nervice  the  wholly  inap]in)pmte  aud  tautological 
Sanctua,  which  biia  now  usarpi'd  a  plaeo  not  its  own,  and  appears  like 
tB  shabby  apology  for  not  proceeding  to  its  use  in  the  place  where  the 
!  Church  has  appointed  it. 

As  to  the  titbor  three  ^LJ^uns  I'or  eacli  Sunday  and  chiuf  Festival,  a 

■  aimilai'  principle  sbuuldj  it  seems  to  us,  gentiridly  govern  their  selec- 

■  tiou.     That  is,  they  ahijuld,  altlioiigli  not  so  directly  aimed  at  the 
F  peculiar  subject  of  the  day  (except  indeed  on  the  highest  Festivala), 

still  derive  theii'  interest  and  hold  on  tlie  ccmgregation  from  some 
^salient  point  in  its  semcea    That  this  may  have  been  carried  too  fai; 

■we  are  tjuite  ready  to  admit.    Wy  uau  hardly  think  that  the  elaborately 

gathered  au«l  remote  analogies  ^^liicli  are  expressed  in  some  of  the 
'hymaa  in  Archdeacon  Wordsworth's  "Holy  Year"  can  be  edifying  to 

TOi'shippers  iu  out  English  churches.  Take  for  instance  the  bjinu  at 
I  the  temiijiatiou  of  the  Epiphany  se&suu,  w-heiTJ  all  the  mamfestations 
jOf  the  Son  of  God  celebrated  during  thataeaaon  are  aummed  up.  Aa 
.A  lesson  to  a  school  d&ss,  the  enumeration  might  be  valuable,  and  the 


Tfu  Contemporary  Review. 


and      . 


hyum  might  serve  aa  a  vum-ona  ffchnica  for  the  remewtbrance  of  the-J 
courae  of  services ;  but  we  would  ask  with  much  defer&qce,  whethw  j 
the  graspitt<»  of  8f>Qi(i  one  marked  fact  or  saying  in  the  aervicBS  of  tha , 
particular  Sunday,  might  not  have  sug«,'e3ted  a  filter  hymn  for  thftj 
great  congregatiou  ^     Hie  services  of  any  Sunday  id  the  yeai*  will  be] 
found  to  furnish  some  such  facts  and  sayings,  of  which  advantage 
might  be  taken.     The  Church  needs,  it  is  true,  many  new  hyrans ;  and 
■we  cannot  hut  think  that,  if  the  editors  of  hyum-btvoks  had  made  tl 
generally  known,  our  stock  would  have  been  by  thi?  time  vastly  im- 
proved.    It  is  hardly  to  our  credit,  that  the  very  best  miters  of  Engtis 
hymns,  properly  ao  called,  have  not  been  of  our  communion.     Watls, 
Doddridge,  and  C.  Wesley  have  never  yet  been   snrimased  ;  though 
Toplady,  L)'te,  and   Miss  Charlotte  Elliott  certainly  npproaeh  theui 
nearly.     'Jlie  I'l-eshyterians  of  Kiiotlaud,  tliouLrb  no  bonk  uan  he  more 
meagre,  and  dreary  than  that  wiiich  the  Established  Church  has  pnt^^ 
forth  for  the  use  uf  her  meinbere,  boast  nf  one  of  the  beat  of  modeny^J 
hymn-writers,  Horatius  Bonar, 

We  hav«  {gained  mudi  by  the  practice  of  transLatiug  the  bjnnns  ut^_ 
the  ancient  Church ;  and  among  those  who  have  coutributeti  the  mo8ti^| 
to  this  gain,  is  Br.  Mason  Nealf.     But  wliile  we  gladly  acknowledge      ' 
this,  there  can  bo  nio  question  that  there  is  something  to  he  set  on  the 
nther  aide.     The  spirit  iiitrod\iced  into  our  hymuology  by  ti-anslations 
IB  often  mi-Englisb,  and  the  diction  and  versihcation  of  the  hymna 
stiff  aud  crabbed.    Aiul  some  ideas,  whlu-h  gave  no  uffence  in  their 
original  Latin,  become  unwelcome  and  even  shiicking  in  an  English 
dress.     We  hear  "  Samjuis  Christl^   iathria    me"  \vithout  a    painful 
feeling :  but  its  equivalent  in  Kngliah  woidd  distress   any  ru\ei'oiit 
mind. 

An  English  hymn  should  be  [dairi  in  diction,  chastened  in  imagery, 
fervent  in  sentimeut,  bumble  in  its  a.ppit)ueh  to  God.     Its  lines  should 
be  cunningly  wrought,  so  that  thoy  may  easily  find  then-  way  to  tli« 
ear  of  tho  simplest,  iuid  alay  imbiddeu  in  his  memory.     It  slioiild  bu 
metiically  faultless;  so  departing  at  times  from  perfect  uciiforoiity,  M^^ 
to  render  reason  for  the  departure,  and  give  a  chano  to  its  usual  stricb^H 
ness,    Thej'  have  done  our  hymns  an  ill  service,  whg  have  gone  about  ^^ 
to  alter  troithaic  t-^&t  into  iambic,  because  the  metre  was  iambic  ^j 

The  making  of  hymns  requires  more  of  the  fancy  than  of  thi^^p 
imagination :  but  the  fancy  must  keep  h'er  bounds,  and  speak  not  aboTU 
a  whisper.  A  iiymu,  as  it  must  not  bo  "  fanciful,"  so  neither  must  it 
be  aublime :  aa  it  must  not  be  without  thought,  ao  neither  must  it 
require  and  challenge  thought.  The  soul  of  tho  wurshippcr  is  greater 
than  the  hjTau  which  he  sings  :  the  hymn  must  not  set  itself  up  above 
him.  Hymna  are  founded  on  the  divine  Word  and  the  divine  Lifc. 
Both  slionid  be  approached  iBverently.     God's  word  in  the  Scripture, 


Church  Hymn-books.  449 

God's  work  in  the  soul,  are  not  to  be  caricatured  by  big  and  aiiy 
sounds.  We  may  take  the  text  which  has  struck  us,  and  moold  it 
into  a  hymn,  but  we  must  use  it  fairly :  not  distort  it,  not  set  it  to 
work  in  r^ons  where  it  finds  no  reference.  We  may  choose  the 
aspect  of  faith  or  hope  or  love  which  seems  best  to  iis,  but  we  must 
sit  at  the  feet  of  the  Great  Inward  Teacher,  and  be  not  false  to  our 
own  experience ;  we  must  not  exaggerate ;  we  must  curb  the  licence 
of  metre  and  antithesis.  He  who  is  to  lead  the  praises  of  the  Church, 
must  speak  the  mind  of  the  Church. 

There  are  few  hymns  indeed  which  come  up  to  the  highest  standard. 
A  very  good  test  of  approach  to  it,  is  being  everywhere  known.  For 
it  is  the  very  object  of  a  hymn  to  get  carried  into  the  mind  of  the 
Church,  and  to  serve  as  the  acknowledged  vehicle  of  heavenward 
thoughts  and  strains.  And  this  will  ordinarily  be  done,  not  by 
hymns  imported  through  translation  from  other  churches,  but  by 
those  which  are  of  native  growth :  not  by  the  elaborate  and  artificial, 
but  by  the  simple  and  natural:  not  by  those  which  are  made  out 
with  stop-gaps,  and  patches  of  commonplace,  but  by  those  where 
every  word  is  in  its  place,  and  cannot  be  disarranged  without  loss  to 
the  whole. 

We  have  said  nothing  in  the  present  article  of  the  times  which 
accompany  these  collections  of  hymns.  Most  of  them  have  been 
arranged  by  musicians  of  eminence,  and  challenge,  at  aU  events,  strict 
musical  criticism.  This  the  tunes  in  "  Hymns  Ancient  and  Modem  " 
have  met  with  at  the  hands  of  a  musical  correspondent  of  the  Record, 
and  apparently  have  not  come  very  well  out  of  the  process.  We 
hope  that  the  whole  subject  may,  at  a  future  time,  be  treated  in  tliis 
joximal 


THE   FKEEST   CHURCH   IN   CHRISTENDOM: 

(UT  A   CLERCVM-Of   OP  THAT  ClIUBCU.) 


P 


WHEN  a  Dutch  deputy,  at  the  iuiniversaiy  meeting  last  year  of 
oue  of  the  English  religions  societies,  aaked  how  it  was  thnt 
Iiis  Bctiond  speech  about  HoUanrl  and  its  Church  was  heard,  with 
greater  manifestations  uf  s^iiijHiithy  tliau  his  first,  he  re*;eived  the 
answer,  "  Bewtuse  the  first  time  you  sissumed  that  we  were  acquainteii 
■with  th-e  atate  of  things  in  youi  ununtry,  whereas,  to  tell  the  truth, 
we  knew  next  to  nothing  about  thwn." 

Thu  writer  has  often  esiienenfed  the  same  thing;  when  couveisinj; 
about  his  native  land  with  friends  from  Circat  Britain.  Though  we 
are  next-door  neighbours,  tracK  tjur  origin  in  gi-eat  part  to  the  same 
fSojcun  root,  jirofess  the  siuiib  religion,  and  cultivate  the  same  tastes, 
yet,  owing  chiefly  to  the  smallness  of  our  tiountiy^  and  the  liaiited 
circle  within  which  our  language  ia  spoken  or  read,  uur  preaalt 
liistory  and  conditiim  I  believe  are  as  liltle  known  in  EuglauJ  as 
are  the  history  and  condition  of  Lapland,  L'onseiineutly,  it  is  oiJy  to 
be  expected  that  EnglishmeD,  wheu  their  attentioo  i*  now  and  then 
drawn  to  this  {erra  ignot»,  should  often  pasa  L^ondenmator}-  verdicts 
npon  Us  where  we  ought  to  be  praised,  or  enconiiums  where  we  have 
deserved  rebuke.  And  so  I  did  not  marvel  when  a  friend  in  England 
wrote  me,  that  in  the  Wi'stniinsttr  Review  for  July,  IStiS  [p.  '225),  ii 
sentence  occui-s  like  this: — "A  conclusion  which  shows  the  Church  of 
the  Neitherlauds  to  he  the  moat  free  of  any  of  tht;  regularly  constititted 


The  Freest  Church  in  ChHstetidom. 


451 


.urclies  of  Christenilom."    Such  an  assertion  could  have  been  writ- 
only  by  one  unacquiunteil  with  the  liUtory  of  our  Church  during; 
last  fifty  years,  unless  indeefi  imrty  spirit  hatl  so  blijided  his  mind 
as  Ui  render  Idni  unable  t*-)  iliatinguisli  between  auarchy  and  lilKirty. 

■  I  gladly  comply  with  the  honouring  request  of  the  Editor  of  this 
Tleview  to  write   an  aitiolii  wliich  in  some  meaaui-e  may  enable  thu 

British  public  to  judge  for  themselves  in  how  fai"  the  above-fi^uottid 
sentence  from  the  W^^mhisUr  Renew  is  correct  It  is  evident  that  the " 
limits  of  an  article  like  this  cjiinnot  admit  of  an  elalwj-ate  and  detaileil 
account  of  the  events  which  have  combined  to  bru^  our  Churdi  to 
its  present  state ;  but  the  main  drift  of  these  events  was  bo  cou- 
spicuous,  that  even  a  8U]ie]-ficial  ylauce  at  them  will  auflice  to  show 
what  mu3t  be  their  results  upon  the  Uliuiuh  whicih  they  dii-uutly 
intiuenceJ.  To  {,'uard  myself  ayainst  partiality,  I  will,  aa  much  as 
ia  my  power,  abstain  from  imhdgiui^'  Lii  my  own  reflections,  aiid 
simply  recite  the  facts   aa  they  may  be  proved  iitim  authentic  re- 

■dtUs  and  historical  documents,  wliich  I  shall  quote  where  it  may 

T)e  required. 

And  first  let  me  ^ve  a  few  statistics.  The  populatitfli  of  the 
Kingdom  of  the  Netherlands  amouuted..  according  to  the  census  of 
I85y,  to  3.30^,128  ^leraons.  Of  these  2.007,Diili  were  Pi-otestanta, 
1,1:34, 48<i  lioman  Catholics,  (iSjyO  Israelites,  :{,S2ll  \mia30wn.  includ- 
iog  a  fuw  Greeks  aud  Armenians. 

■  Of  the  two  million  and  seven  tbonsand   Protestants,  by  far  the 
greater  majority — viz,,  l,8:JH,3(in — belon;,'  to  the  KcfDrmed  Calviiiigtic 

Church,  the  oihcia!  name  of  whicli  is  "  The  Netherlands  Itefotmetl 
Church."  Connected  with  it  are  the  French  or  "Walloon  Churcb,  with 
9,803  members  ;  the  Eugliiih  rit!al)yterians,  with  374;  and  the  Scotch 
Presbyterians,  with  97. 

The  other  Protestant  bodice  which  exist  under  the  shade  of  this 
"great  church"  number,  conj|jaiutLvely  speaking,  but  few  members. 
There  are  the  Christian  Separatist  lleformed  (who  seceded  from 
the  Netherlands  Eeformeil  Church  in  1S32),  numbering  65.728 ; 
the  Luthel-ans,  64,o'd3  ;  the  Mannouitcs  (who  hold  adidt  baptism,  bnt 
with  sprinkling).  42,1  G2;  the  Armmiaus,  or  Itemonstrant*!.  5,326;  the 
E[iji;IUh  Kpiscopahans,  575  ;  tlie  Monn^daus,  'i'M  :  total,  178,661. 

It  appf^ara  frnm  these  statistics  that  the  munber  of  all  the  Pni- 
tesiajit  dbseuters  togetlier  ie  less  than  0-110  ol  the  luembera  of  the 
Netherlaml-H  Keformed  Church,  aud  that  the  latt^^r  comprises  raoro 
than  one-half  of  the  wholtt  population  of  tlie  kingdom.  On  acconnt 
of  lliis  numerical  majority,  afi  well  as  of  its  Instoiy  since  the  time  of 
the  Reformation,  thia  Church  may  nightly  be  called  the  Dutch  National 
Church.  It  is,  with  the  exception  of  those  in  the  Komaa  Catholic 
province.^  bordering  upon  llel^ium,  in  possession  of  all  the  cathedrals 


452 


The  Conlejnporary  Review. 


p 

r 


tind  pQtochifll  churches  which  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  possessed 
before  the  Reformation.  It  is  a  tliorouylJy  presbyterian  body,  aud  wa* 
for  two  centuries — up  till  1795 — the  EstabKahed  Church  of  th^  Dutch 
R^]mblic,  It  was  that  Dutch  Church  which,  as  it  had  tnujiiphaiitlj' 
overcome  its  bloody  struggle  of  ei^qhty  yeara  with  Rome  and  priest- 
ridden  Spaiu,  faithfully  and  liberally  offered  support,  shelter,  and 
protection  to  all  from  other  countries  who  sought  refuge  in  the 
Netherlands  ajjainst  the  i^eraecutiona  of  tlie  same  enemy.  Englanil 
and  Scotland  itsmember  thia.  ?^  well  as  the  Pi-oteatants  of  yrfliice. 

In  those  days — timt  is,  belbre  1795 — this  lieforraed  Church  was  not 
merely  the  'primle^ed,  hut  excluaively  the  C'hurch  of  the  country.  Ii 
is  true,  other  denominations,  as  i'or  instance  the  ItoroBiiists.  Lntherans. 
MeTLoonites,  and  Arminiaus,  were  tolerateil,  and,  to;^ether  witli  the 
Jews,  enjoyed  more  liberty  in  our  country  than  was  usually  ollaweal 
to  them  in  other  countries.  Flat  still,  su  close  was  the  union  between 
Churcli  and  State,  that  only  th«  liefonned  Chmeh  was  in  jjossessiuii 
of  all  civil  rights,  tlie  members  of  the  other  denominations  bt-ini; 
excluded  froiti  the  civil  otticea  in  the  State. 

Tliis  state  of  thiQgs  was  juit  au  end  to  by  the  influence  of  Ihe 
French  Revolution.  Tha  separation  of  the  Churcli  from  tlie  State  was 
publicly  proclaimed  on  the  18th  of  August,  1796.  The  ecclesiastical 
possessions,  from  which  the  salaries  of  the  Reformed  cltirj^',  &c.,  had 
been  paiil,  were  secularised,  and  iKfcame  national  property.  A  time 
of  great  confusion  anil  humdiatinn,  alike  in  Church  and  in  State^  now 
ensued.  In  1 800,  Napoleon  sent  us  his  brother  to  ieij,m  over  ns  as 
king.  In  1810  he  iucorporated  our  country  hs  a  ]iro\ince  into  his  nwn 
empire,  In  181^  we  were  dclivei-ed  from  the  French  yoke.  Its  ni- 
iniposition  wxs  f-ir  ever  jjrevented  by  the  victory  at  Waterloo. 

The  last  Stadtholder  of  otu"  Republic,  William  the  Fifth  of  Orange, 
hftd  in.  1795  lied  to  England,  where  he  died.  The  people,  rejoicing 
at  their  libtTiition  from  the  French  tyranny,  and  rememberiaf»  how 
mnch  they  were  iitdebted  for  their  national  existence  t^  the  Orange 
family,  enthusi astir' ally  and  unanimously  proclaimed  the  lat-e  Stadl- 
holdcr's  scm  na  tht'ii'  king.  He  ascended  the  throne  in  1814,  under 
the  title  of  William  I.  The  bittor  raperieuces  of  the  paat  hiid 
decisively  put  a  atop  to  the  fomier  political  discord,  and  the  ani- 
mosities of  party  spirit.  William  was  gifted  with  extraordinary 
adminiRtrative  skill.  He  at  once  directed  his  attention  to  tlie 
Reformed  Church,  which,  though  nominally  separat^ed  from  the  Sta1<i. 
was  yet  in  fact  the  church  of  the  people.  It  lacked  a  centi-al  baa.nl 
of  miiuinistration,  and  this  the  King  set  about  supplying.  On  the7tli 
of  Junuso-y,  1816,  the  King,  after  having  taken  advice  from  a  "enii- 
Bidting  commission,"  which  partly  consiated  of  politiciana,  partly 
of  ecclesiastics,  gmnted   the    introduction  oi  a  set  of  rules,  Lialleil 


The  Frec&t  Cfuirch  in  Christendom. 


453 


"General  Ilg^ulationa  for  the  Admiaistration  of  the  Eet'ormed  Church 
in  the  KiiigJom  of  the  Netlieriflnda." 

This  was  hy  some,  pe-rbajis  Tiy  many,  looked  upon  as  au  emiroacb- 
mebt  upon  the  liberty  und  rif^htg  oh'  the  Church  by  the  seculur 
power.  Two  presbyteries,  that  of  Amsterdam  aud  of  Woertlen,  had 
e^ven  the  boldness  to  send  in  tlieir  humble  but  serious  olyeetioiis. 
Tliey,  however,  were  sent  abaut  their  Imsiiieaa  iu  a  rather  haughty 
tone,  by  the  Minister  for  Public  Woraliip.  They  were  left  alone  by 
the  other  [ire-gbyteries,  as  their  noble  opposition  met  with  no  en- 
coura^'einent  from  the  j;reat  bulk  of  the  chui'ch  membeiH.  It  was 
unhappily  the  most  unseiLsouable  time  possible  for  such  movements. 
The  princely  scion  of  the  luuch-Ioveii  house  of  Oraui^'w  had  Just 
recently  been  liaited  as  an  augel  of  Tedumptioji,  and  enthusiafitically 
rwsed.  to  the  throne.  He  was  looked  upon  by  every  one  aa  the  man 
with  whom  an  era  of  new  life  aud  unknown  pros]>erity  was  to  dawn 
upon  the  kinfidom,  His  eldest  son  had  shed  his  blood  on  the  battle- 
fioid  of  Waterloo.  lie  had  lumself  suffered  an.  exile  of  eighteen  years 
foi  the  sake  of  the  uatioual  cau^^e.  From  such  a  man  nothing'  but 
yood  could  be  expected.  He  liad  come  to  restore  order  and  prosperity 
to  the  long-vexed  country.  To  try  to  thwart  his  movements  at  such 
a  time  as  tliis  was  regarded  as  madness.  Any  atteuLpt  to  limit  his 
power  had  all  the  appeJirajice  of  rebetliousneas.  The  people  were 
under  the  ehaim  of  an  hallucitiatiou.  Their  sudden  deli\'ery  h*om  ao 
ranch  raiseiy  and  such  deep  huiudiation  had  blinded  them  to  the 
real  bearings  of  some  of  the  cLauj^es  lie  speedily  inaugurated. 

The  regulations  which  the  King  iinpoaed  upon  the  Church  were 
deemed  lo  contain  much  good,  if  viewed  from  a  merely  adminislra- 
tivp.  standpoint.  They  einiihatically  prescribed  the  maintenance  iind 
Yindicatiriu  of  the  Church  creed.  And  the  creed  was  still  embodied 
in  the  old  formtdss  of  concordance  of  the  Church,  viz.,  the  "  Dutch 
Coufeasion  of  Faith."  cou^jiosed  by  G'uido  de  Brfes,  the  martyr  of 
Valenciennes ;  the  "  Heidelberg  Catechism,"  and  the  "  Doctrinal 
Rules  {LetTTcgtlai)  of  the  Synod  of  Dordt,"  concerning  the  doctrine 
of  predestination.  These  refriilations,  it  was  thought,  fully  incideated 
faith  in  tlie  doctrines  contained  in  those  writln^^a,  and  could  do  no 
harm  to  the  Church  al  any  rate. 

A  closer  inspection,  however,  ouyht  to  have  undeceived  the  pane- 
gyrists. The  regulations  were  to  a  cnnaiderable  extent  a  Caisaro- 
|>apiatic  creation.  According  to  them  tlie  Churcli  was  henceforth  to 
be  ruled  by  what  was  called  a  general  synod,  which  consisted  f>f  the 
deputies  of  the  provincial  synod.'?,  one  from  each.  In  this  general 
synod  the  Minister  for  Public  Worship  and  his  secretary  hail  seats. 
The  theological  faculties  of  the  three  universities  of  the  State  (Leiden, 
Utrecht,  and  Groaingen)  also  ^eut  each,  a  deputy,  but  the.se  were  only 


The  Contemporary  Review. 

invested  with  "  pre-advising  votes."  Tlie  members  of  the  first  general 
synod,  its  prflaident,  Woe-president,  and  permanent  secretary,  were 
called  and  appointed  by  the  Kbig  liirnstlf.  In  tlie  ensuing  years  each 
|)roTincial  synod  sent  a  deputy  who  was  a  clergj'man.  Only  out 
elder  or  ex-elder  (oud-oudertinff),  clioaen  by  the  provincial  synods  in 
rntrttiiin,  was  lulded  to  tliis  ixilitico-elerit'al  nsaeiulily  ! 

The  provincial  synods  were  composed  in  the  same  way.  Each  of 
the  forty-three  jiresbyteries  (Dutcli,  Jiia-sscn)  liad  to  return  one 
member.  Tliese  members  were  the  fii'st  time  called  acd  appointed 
by  the  Kiny  himself;  but  afterwiirds  lie  cliose  them  from  triasaea 
■which  were  formed  by  the  united  votes  of  the  ppovim;ial  synods  and 
the  pi-eflbyterieg.  He  also  i-eserved  to  himseli'  the  right  of  appointing 
the  preBidtinta  and  secretaiies,  To  eadi  ol:  these  assemblies,  aj^ain, 
only  one  fslder  was  added,  who  was  chosen  by  the  respective  presby- 
teries consecutively.  All  important  questiona  concerning  cliurcli 
discipline  belonged  to  the  ecclesiastical  jurisdiction  of  tliese  synods. 

The  classes  or  presbyteries,  of  which  all  the  clergymen  were  mem- 
bers, were  placed  under  the  same  sort  of  njyal  tnt^lage.  That  member 
of  the  presbytei'y,  vho  was  its  representative  at  the  pro\'incial  synod, 
was  also  its  moderator.  The  Secretaiy  or  scribe  was  the  first  time 
tailed  by  the  King  himseli';  but  afterwards  he  chose  him  from  a  trias. 
Tliree  or  four  of  the  clergymen  were  conimis$ioned  to  join  those  two 
to  ibmi  a  nioderamen,  to  whidi  one  eldet  was  added.  These  preshy- 
teries  met  only  once  a  year  (on  the  last  Wednesday  in  June),  and  had 
110  (.>ther  business  but  to  vote  for  the  formation  of  the  trios  from 
which  the  King  was  to  select  the  secretary ;  for  the  appointment  of  the 
cominissioiied  members  to  the  modenunen ;  and  to  examine  and  certify 
the  accounts  of  the  Widows'  Fnnd  and  other  tiinds, 

Fiualily,  the  French  or  Walloon  Church  wus  connected  with  (he 
i^etherlauds  lieiomied  Church,  by  having  the  right  of  sending  a  deputy 
to  thf  general  synod.  This  deputy,  again,  w»iS  chosen  by  the  King 
himself  from  a  number  of  six  ckrgj'men.  The  English  Presbyterian 
and  the  Scotch  Churches  were  incoqjonit'ed  with  the  Netherhinda 
reformed  Chnrch. 

Tlie  quiet,  submissive  spirit  with  which  the  Church  accepted  these 
regulations,  by  whicli  the  King  virtually  ahtained  the  power  of  a 
siimvius  (.■pinfop'm,  would  be  quite  inexplicable  hut  For  the  circum- 
stunces  already  referred  to.  Moreover,  since  the  greater  ]iart  of  tlie 
ecclesiastical  posaeasione  were  transleired  tfl  the  State,  the  clergy  had 
Income  accustomed  to  reeeive  their  Ralariea  frtim  the  State  cxcheipuT. 
so  that  they  were  not  only  attached  to  (he  King  by  spiritual,  but  also 
by  financial  ties.  !Nor  did  His  Majesty  neglect  to  strengthen  that 
feeling  by  pretty  hberal  grants  from  the  exchequer  for  defi-aying  the 
expenses  of  all  the  above-mentioned  eoclesiastica]  bosmla. 


Tk€  Freest  Church  in  Chrisiendom, 


455 


I 


I 

I 

I 

I 
I 


I 


It  ia  obvious  that  fchia  organization  of  the  Cliurcli  was  at.  variiiuce 
with  the  vita]  principles  of  the  Keformed  Presbyterian  Clmrk.;h  polity, 
Jfot  one  of  all  the  above-meutiDned  assemblies  or  meutings  was  held 
in  public,  The  doors  were  always  closed,  and  the  Church  was  entirely 
excluded  from  witnessinj^  the  diseussions  and  debates  which  oftt^ii  took 
place  regarding  its  most  important  interests.  As  only  cue  elder  had 
eeasion  in  each  board,  and  all  the  other  members  were  either  elergy- 
man  or  professors  of  imiversities,  the  Church  Government  was  reduced 
to  a  scieiiiijif  Itimirchy,  nay,  an  Qlbjarrhy,  under  the  patn>nage  of  the 
King.  The  King,  it  is  true,  was,  like  his  anee^tors,  a  professor  of  the 
Keformed  Calvinistic  creed,  but  not  hound  to  be  so  by  any  article 
of  the  charter.  His  Ijeing  a  meinber  of  the  Church  in  which 
he  assigned  to  hinisclT  such  &.  prominent  place  was  thus  ouly  acci- 
dental. INot  did  he,  in  the  last  years  of  his  life,  give  very  striking 
proofs  of  his  devotedness  to  the  Protestant  creed.  He  abilicatcd  ha 
1840,  and  married  t.he  lloman  Catholic  Belgian  Countess  Jlenriette 
d'OnltTeraont. 

Another  most  important  resolution  of  the  King,  which  could  not 
fail  to  have  a  decisive  bearing  upon  the  spiritual  life  and  character  of 
the  Church,  r^;arded  the  training  and  ordination  of  its  clergy.     By  a 
Eoyal  Eeaolution  of  August  2,  1815,  art.  116,  it  was  enacted  that  the 
Netherlands  Reformed  Church  should  call  no  other  niiuisters  but  such 
as  had  received  their  t.raining  at  one  of  the  three  umversities.    The 
universities,  however,  being  State  institutions,  a  law  was  jiassed  at  the 
*anie  time,  by  which  the  prnfesaors  of  divinity  at  those  universities  were 
declared  to  be  State  officers,  and  consequently  to  be  chosen,  appointed, 
and  salaried  by  the  (lovemnient,     A  few  montlis  later,  fpn  -Tiuae  iiO, 
3810,  a  set  of  "  Rules  for  Examination  ajid  Adniisaion  into  the  Minis- 
terial Office  in  the  Reformed  Church  "  was  issued,  in  which  it  was 
enacted,  that  the  sispirauta,  who  wure  to  he  examined  and  ordained  by 
the   provijiL'ial   boaids,   must  have  tlie  degree  both  of  iiandidate  of 
pliilology  and  cantiidate  of  theology,*  at  one  of  tlie  three  universities  j 
that  they  must  jjroduce  a  certificate  of  good  moral  conduet,  and  have 
been  members  of  the  Church  for  at  least  two  years.     Having  fullilled 
all  tliese  conditions,  the  person  exanuned  had  to  subscribe  the  follow- 
ing "  declaration  and  promise;''— 

**I,  A  R,  appointed,  &e liercby  do  sincetely  JecluT*,  tliat  both 

through  my  teaching  and  conduct  I  felmll  carefully  promote  the  interrste  of 
Christendora  in  general,  aa  wtll  as  of  the  Netherlands  Reformed  l_TiurL-li  in 
particular ;  that  I  tfe  hiya^  fide  accept  an<l  cordially  boheve  the  doctrioe 
which,  accflrdiug  to  Ood'g  won),  is  contained  iii  the  accept«I  fgrmiiliifi  of 
concordance  of  thv  Jietherkndg  llefnniied  Cliurchi;  that  I  shall  teach  »nd 
vindicikU>  it  diligently,  and  that  I  shaU,  with  all  tny  euRrgj',  apply  myself  to 

*  The  degree  of  candidate  n.t  llic  Diitct  uniTeraitieB  ia  iJtat  wlu^b^  in  nil  tlie  facultica, 
the  doctor^s  degree. 


45<5 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


the  furtherance  of  religiouB  knowledge,  Chriatiao  ruor&ls,  order,  and  oonconl. 
I  also  pl-edge  mysBlf,  through  this  my  eignatiirp,  to  maintain  all  the  nlioTe- 
writtcn,  aB<3  to  submit  to  the  judgments  of  the  <:ompoC:cnt  eecleaiastical 
tiCMitda,  in  case  I  should  bo  found  to  havo  acted  at  variance  with  any  portiou 
of  this  dtclaration  and  promiso."' 

This  formula  of  subacription  (especially  siDca  1832,  when  the  in- 
creasing deviations  from  the  Church  creed  elicited  public  protest)  has 
given  rise  to  much  controversy  as  to  its  real  purport  and  meaning. 
Tlie  honesty  of  its  composers  was  even  questioned  by  mituy.  Nor 
could  it  be  (.lenicd  that  the  se:iteuce — "  tliat  I  accept  and  bcliuve  the 
doctrine  which,  accordiutr  to  God'a  word,  is  contauicd  iu  the  formulas 
of  concordance" — waa  i-ather  ambiguous.  Was  the  "which"  in  thia 
sentence  to  be  taken  as  a  rdativum  ei^icaiivum  or  as  a  rciativum 
pttrtitiuum)  In  the  former  case,  it  meant  that  the  whole  doctrine 
contained  in  the  formulas  wag  according  to  God's  word.  In  the  latttr, 
tiuit  only  a  portion  of  that  doctrine  wft9  acknowledged  as  being 
according  to  God's  word,  and  it  was  left  to  the  suhficriber  to  reject 
such  portions  as  he  disbelieved.  Experience  soon  showed  that  most 
fiubacribcrs  took  it  in  the  latter  sense.*  From  a  memoiial  which,  in 
1 S42  {i  c,  twenty-SLx  years  after  the  issue  of  tliis  formula  of  subscrip- 
tion], was  aildiesaed  to  the  general  synod  by  seven  influential  ortho- 
dox ^ntleraen  at  the  Hague,  it  appea-ra  that  the  writings  of  the  pro- 
feasora  of  divinity  in  the  University  of  Groningen,  and  of  many 
clergymen  trained  in  their  school,  proclaim&d  a  system  of  theology 
which,  in  the  openest  and  most  straightforward  way,  rejected  saA 
sometimes  even  ridiculed  many  of  the  fundamental  doctrines  of 
Church  creed. 

r  have  given  this  detailed  description  of  the  way  in  which,  under 
King  WiEiam  I.,  our  Church  was  organized,  to  show  how  it  came 
about  that  a  door  was  opened  through  which,  under  appearance  of 
Btrict  adherence  to  the  creed  of  the  Church.  snc!i  a  disorderly  spirit 
was  gradually  introduced,  as  at  length  actually  reduced  the  formulas 
of  concordance  to  nonentities,  and  brought  about  that  state  of  per- 
fect confusion  at  present  threatening  to  break  up  the  Church.  Thfl 
code  of  regulations  which  that  King  isaued,  on  the  7th  of  January 
1816,  continued  in  vigour  till  March  23,  1852,  which  was  the  fourth 

*  It  vas  tbe  'n'l. II -known  queslion  abDut  tho  quia  Qnd  ^aatj'iiua,  itljich  TTU  also  mucS 
diiciiaaed  in  G^j-many  nod  Dunmnrk.  I  am  of  opinioo  that  with  regaTii  to  tho  written 
vicedof  n  churcli  both.n  jM/d  and  a  guatetiiia  shoiild  ho  udmittt-d;  viz.,  i/Hi'cf,  wiih  refer- 
ence tv  ill  caaunLial  poiiLts,  09  bi'lni;  deur  enough  to  Ihi  undL'relWK]  tiy  an  tnlightcno^ 
ciBuciBiiL'c ;  qiinfmu^,  wjib  refurenco  lo  Eon-BBBOol-lalB,  as,  e,  y,,  tba  right  of  thi.-  Govtrc- 
ment  to  Eiipel  heiotii'S,  &a.  In  thia  I  agree  with  Dr.  MitIp  d'Aubigni},  Dr.  Martensen  of 
■dopenhai^en,  Dr.  Dn  Uosta,  Mr.  Heldring,  Dr.  Nitaach,  and  Dr.  Ebrani,  Dr.  D'AubJgn^ 
hda  published  a  Dow  uimfcwioQ  of  faith,  into  whii  h  he  hnn  received  nil  ihc  doctrines  of  tin 
CnlvinictLu  cre«d.  Sttil  h^  lays  itpranuiieat  ntrcss  upon  two  points,  vie,,  iho  love  of  GnA 
flnd  iho  moral  rciponsitiility  of  man. 


The  Freest  Church  in  Christendoni,  457 

Tear  of  tbe  leign  of  his  grandson,  William  III.,  our  present  Kin^. 
Shortly  before  the  accession  of  that  prince  to  tlie  throne,  the  revolxt- 
tionaiy  movements  of  1843  had  had  the  effect  of  considerably  chang- 
ing OUT  political  conditions.  Our  charter  was  altered,  the  power  of 
the  Crown  considerably  curtailed,  and  the  people  allowed  to  exercise 
greater  influence  on  the  management  of  our  public  affairs  than  beforv. 
In  bet,  while  retaining  the  name  and  the  appearance  of  a  monarchy, 
we  were  virtually  transformed  into  a  di^uised  republic.  The  sen- 
tence, ecdatia  sequitur  curiam,  was,  to  a  certain  extent,  applied  to  our 
Church.  Perfect  separation  between  Church  and  State  was  written 
on  title  banner  now  displayed ;  and  partially,  or  at  least  in  npi>earance, 
the  Church  was  freed  firom  the  government  of  the  State,  ftlore  rights 
were  also  allowed  to  the  Church  members.  In  this  spirit  a  new  code 
of  *  General  R^;ulations  for  the  Reformed  Church  in  the  Kingdom 
of  the  Netherlands "  was  drawn  up  by  the  general  synod  on  the  9th 
of  September,  1851,  which,  on  the  23rd  of  March,  1852,  was  sanctioned 
by  the  King.  This  is  the  code  under  which  the  affairs  of  our  Church 
have  been  ruled  up  to  the  present  time. 

It  is  moulded  on  the  basis  of  the  former  code,  though  with  consider- 
able modifications.  The  interests  of  the  collective  congregations  in 
the  respective  divisions  of  the  Church  are  now  committed  to  the  care 
of  the  presbyterial  and  provincial  boards.  The  presbyterial  boai-ds  are 
elected  by  the  presbyterial  assemblies,  which  are  composed  of  all  the 
non-retired  clergymen  and  as  many  non-retired  elders  as  the  consis- 
tories* of  the  special  churches  may  send,  provided  their  numbers  do  not 
surpass  that  of  the  clergym^.  These  assemblies,  with  perfect  liberty 
of  election,  appoint  the  members  of  the  presbyterial  board.  Tliey  also 
elect  the  members  of  the  provincial  board,  each  presbyterial  assembly 
appointing  one  clergyman.  To  every  two  clergymen  an  elder  is 
added,  who  is  chosen  from  either  of  the  two  presbyterial  assemblies 
by  rotation.  The  provincial  boards  elect,  from  their  own  midst,  their 
presidents,  vice-presidents,  and  secretaries.  Each  provincial  Iward 
returns,  every  year,  a  clergyman  as  a  member  to  the  general  synod. 
In  the  general  synod — which,  consequently,  is  composed  of  tlie  depu- 
ties of  the  provincial  boards — three  elders,  chosen  by  the  provincial 
boards  in  rotation,  have  session.  The  theological  faculties  of  the 
three  universities  also  send  their  deputies,  which,  however  (as  was 
the  case  under  the  former  code),  have  only  a  consulting  or  pre- 
advising  vote.  Finally,  the  committee  of  the  ^Walloon  Cliurch  returns 
a  member,  who  is  a  clergyman.  The  general  synod  chooses  its  own 
president  and  scribe,  whose  office  is  permanent.  It  is  the  highest 
l^islative,  juridical,  and  administrative  court  in  the  Church.      Its 

•  CouButory  is  the  luuae  fat  the  college  of  the  miniiter,  elders,  and  doaconi  of  a  ipocial 
chimlt. 

VOL.  I.  2  H 


458 


The  Contemporary  Review, 


I 


poweT,  however,  is  restricted  liy  certain  guarantees.  It  meets  ever)' 
July,  at  the  Hague,  In  the  inten'ul  between  its  meetings  the  int^?- 
rests  of  the  Clmrcli  are  taken  care  of  by  a  comniit.tee,  chosen  from 
itself,  which  is  called  "  The  General  Syaodical  CoiiLiuittee/' 

It  ia  clear  tliat  this  code  grants  greater  independence  and  freedom 
irom  Government  influence  to  our  ecck^sinstical  Iwards  tliau  did  tlit 
former.  It  is  true  that  eleven  reservations  are  ajipyuded,  which 
considerably  limit  that  indepeodenee;  but  the  King  has  ceased  to 
exercise  any  power  of  appointment,  and  a  greater  number  of  elders 
have  session  in  our  ecclesiastical  boards.  C'ertaiuly  this  is  sometliiny. 
But  still,  the  appearance  of  lilierty  ia  greater  than  the  reality.  Onr 
ecclesiastical  hoards — owing  to  the  fact  that  one  very  important  article 
of  the  code  has  been  eoostautly  kept  in  abeyance — do  not  orij^nate  iu 
the  bosom  of  our  Church,  nor  do  they  represent  it  as  they  ought. 

Tliis  iinpoi'tant  tivtlcle,  which  some  look  upon  lis  being  a  sort  of 
r^indora's  box,  Mddle  others  expect  it  to  prove  the  rulladiuni  of  Hit 
libei-ty  and  prosperity  of  the  Charch,  is  the  23kI  article  of  the  new 
(-■ode,  It  regards  tlie  election  of  the  consistories  {i.  c,  of  tlie  coU^* 
ot  the  ]uiuisters,  elders,  and  deacons  of  the  special  churches)  and  the 
calling  of  the  ministers.  That  this  is  a  point  upon  which  the  wholt 
question  »»  to  tho  liberty  of  the  Chmrh  hinge*  is  obvious.  We  have 
seen  that  under  the  old  code  the  general  synod  waa  electeil  from  t]ie 
provincial  boards,  that  the  provincial  boards  were  chosen  &om  the 
presbyteries,  and  that  the  presbjieries  consisted  of  the  ministers  imil 
a  number  of  elders.  Xow  who  called  and  appointed  tlie  ministers  \ 
The  answer  is,  the  consistories.  The  memljers  of  a  church  had  no 
Vfite  in  the  coll  of  their  pasLnr ;  he  w-as  called  l>j  the  college  of  elders 
and  deacons.  And  wlio  elected  the  elders  and  deacous  ?  The  auiswcr 
is,  they  fiUed  up  the  vacant  places  by  choosing  whom  they  liked.  Tlie 
consistories  were  self-electing  bodies.  So  the  inenihers  of  the  Churcli 
M*ere  excluded  from  any  right  of  voting  whiitaoevcr. 

Thus  ifc  was  under  the  old  code.  It  was  expected  that,  the  new 
code  was  to  niter  this  state  of  tilings  altogether.  Its  23111  artick 
seemed  to  justify  that  expectation.     It  reads  as  follows:— 

"Ihc  right  of  «Iectiug  the  eldera  and  dencone,  and  of  calling  the  niiuistiTS, 
rijsta  with  thd  Churtk* 

"The  CIjiu-lIi  ((If/npenle)  sbft]],  t'xcept  in  the  acquired  rights  of  othi-rs, 
t-itht-r  fxeri-i«e  that  right  herself  or  throiiyh  ihv  uiediuni  of  those  whom  stm" 
will  spGcinUy  nntlionze  for  thiit  purposp,  nccording  to  conditiuus  fixod  in 
s[ieci;Ll  regulations,  tn  be  drawn  up  hereafter,  lor  the  t^lectioii  of  the  coU' 
sistyriiis  and  ministers. 

•  7,  r.,  -Bitli  (iui  Qieoibon.  of  DBci  Bptcial  or  twoJ  church.  The  Dutch  hu  one  viari 
(terfi)  for  doaoting  ihe  yollpLtiyo  body  of  all  thu  l(h;wi  rljiirchcs  taVea  Igpotlicr,  uoiI  nnullicc 
itfcniiniU)  fur  denoting  the  astenibly  of  tho  members  who  con^itutu  a  lo<--a}  c-liimih, 
the  23rd  nrticlt  the  latter  Tord  is  Qccd. 


The  Freest  Church  in  Christendom. 


459 


"  Until  these  epeciul  regiilati&ns  shall  have  Twon  infidi?,  tho  now  extant 
conditions  shall  nnntiniie  in  vigour  iind  applicatimi." 

This  was  everything  the  inembera  of  the  Church  could  have 
desired,  pro^-idecl  unly  tliciat;  "speciiil  regiilationa,  to  "be  drawn  up 
hereafter."  tf>ntained  no  new  restrictions  upon  the  free  action  nl'  the 
C'hiirch.  Sfj  the  day  was  eayw'ly  looked  for  on  ■which  those  regida- 
linns  were  ttv  lie  puldished.  But,  ahis!  that  day  has  not  yet  come. 
Fourteen  yiiura  have  elapsed  since  the  new  code  iiViis  enactiid,  but 
we  are  not  yet  one  step  nearer  to  the  publication  of  the  pnunised 
document.  We  are  BtiU  in  the  same  condition  aa  we  were  in  under 
the  old  eode.  The  members  of  the  Church  have  no  vote  whatever. 
Everything  fs  in  the  hands  of  the  consistories. 

Here  lies  the  irjot  of  all  the  miscldefj  lor  it  is  a  fact  that  in  all  or 
nearly  all  the  tliuruhes  of  our  great  to"wus,  and  in  very  many  country 
clmrehes,  the  cousistoriea  hold  opinions  wlueh  are  at  variance  with 
the  Confession  of  the  Church,  and  consequently,  they  caR^fully  exclude 
tlie  orthodox  from  their  membership.  The  result  is,  tliat  om  luf^hcr 
iLud  lower  ecclesiastical  boards  are  filled  with  men  who  either  evince 
an  over-moderate  or  a  negative  spirit ;  men,  in  fact,  who  do  not  rejire- 
sent  the  collective  meinbers  of  the  Church,  and  have  neither  thyir 
fiynipatiiy  uor  their  confidence.  Our  ecclesiastical  Imards  represent 
only  one  party  in  the  Church — that,  namely,  which  is  either  indif- 
ferent or  oppoaed  to  the  chief  doctriuee  of  the  creed ;  and,  having  all 
the  reins  in  their  hands,  they  keep  the  other  i)arty  perfectly  powerless, 
Jt  is  iu  vain  to  brin^  complaints  about  false  teauhers,  or  about  excess- 
ive and  hiybly  ofl'ensive  deviations  from  the  duttrhies  of  tlte  Chuit;!!, 
which  it  is  their  duty  to  maintain,  before  their  courts.  They  either 
answer  tlieir  inemorialjst*  in  an  evasive  way,  or  hauy;litily  aeml  them 
aliout  their  bufdness,  aa  they  did  year  after  year  some  tune  ago,  or  aa. 
'wa.'?  the  case  so  kte  as  last  year.  The  synotl  comes  forward  with  the 
Lumble  and  public  confession  that  it  is  not  in  its  power  to  maiii- 
fcun  the  creed  of  the  Church. 

Kothiiii,'  perhaps  could  better  enable  my  renders  t.o  Icam  the  pre- 
sent condition  of  our  Church  than  a  view  of  the  last-meutioued 
answer  of  the  gener^  Bynod.  This  answer  bears  date  of  the  29tli- 
July.  ISfio,  and  is  entitled,  "  Report  concerning  the  Lil>erty  of  Teach- 
ing in  Ihe  Netherlands  lieformed  Church."  It  was  drawn  up  by  &■ 
coHunittee  of  the  synod,  composed  of  Dr.  Kuenen,  Professor  of  the 
University  at  Leiden ;  Dr.  Hofstede  de  Croot,  Prol'essor  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  CJroningen ;  Dr.  Tichler,  Mr.  Gerlachj  and  Mr.  Oort.,  min- 
isters of  the  churches  at  Leiden,  Mlddelburg,  and  the  Hague.  The 
syiiod  uuauimtmsly  agreed  to  this  report,  and  accordingly  publislied 
it  as  its  answer  to  the  objections  and  complaints  of  a  uumber  of 
memorialists. 


460  The  Conkmporary  Kevma. 

These  memorialista  -were, — 

1st.  The  pi-esbyttitiea  of  KaiiipeD,  Deveuter,  Crouda,  and  Utreclit^ 
anLl  the  provincial  hnard  of  Overysself  ohjectiiig  to  the  esp^essi<)I^ 
■"the  existing  Hberty  of  t«acliii]g"  (occuninjj  iu  an  answer  of  the 
aynnrl  of  the  preceding  yeflr),  as  if  that  liberty^  because  existing, 
hud  also  a  rujht  of  existing. 

Sillily.  .Se^'eiity-six  meuibei-s  of  the  Church  ctf  Nymejjen,  liringiug  a 
tharge  ngaiiist  two  of  its  ministers  of  autichristiau  preaching,  aud       . 
j-i^qiicssting  reilreas.  ^H 

yiilly.  Mr.  Fmiisen  van  de  Futte,  member  of  the  provincial  board ^^ 
»t  Zeekud.  objettiiig  tu  the  fact  tli^t  in  October,  1864,  Ibuv  candidates 
were  admitted  to  the  ministeHal  uttice  hj  the  SS-ld  board,  and  had 
signed  the  formula  of  subscription,  notwithstanding  that  they  denied 
the  resurrection  and  the  niediatorahip  of  Christ  l  reason  why  the 
memorialist  requested  that  the  formula  of  subscription  should  ^M^^H 
altered,  or  not  laid  for  si^Tiature  before  the  candidates  at  alJ.  ^^ 

4t]iJy.  Dr.  Huydecoper,  minister  of  the  Church  at  the  Hajrue  (who 
liEus  since  died :  a  man  who  stood  in  liigh  respect  witli  all  classes  of 
sotietj').  objeetin^  to  the  "diplomatic;  forms  and  answers"  of  the 
synod,  and  desiring  a  "  nianly,  honest,  and  frank  answer  "  to  the 
question, — 

"  T\Tictlicr  in  onr  Church  fopxistence  ia  pemiitted  of  the  acknuwlixig- 
meiit  fjf  n  direct  Dinnc  revelntion,  with  tho  denial  of  the  aauie ; — of  the 
representation  that  sin  ia  an  ovil  by  whith  wl^  l.>fti>nie  g«ilty,  -with  Uiu 
ropreacntation  tlmt  it  ia  a  atepping-stom;  towarda  virtue,  so  that  our  (ruilt 
diaappi?Ars ;- — of  faith  in  the  L¥*iirrectioa  of  Christ,  with  atUwiks  against  tlia( 
faith;- — of  the  preaching  of  Clinst  4i»  thfl  Sun  of  CJchI,  and  the  belief  in  the 
supernatural  as  sten  in  Htm,  with  the  a^^rtion  that  He  \&  a  pommon 
Miftn,  thoagh  thr.  moat  fx™ll«:iit  of  meiil"  The  iiie7iniriali.«t  closes  ■vdtii 
the  request  "  thilt  the  syiHMl  l>e  pleased  henceforth  to  look  upon  itself  as  S 
mcrt'ly  ailininistrative  hotly,  sibBtainilig  from  iiieddbug  tiny  longer  with  tlip 
doctiinc  which  the-  Church  professed  in  fomicr  times,  and  coiisoqU'eiiUj 
ciUir.elling  overjthing  in  the  rcgulationa  frhich  bears  upon  the  niaintenjuii 
of  thi3  €reed," 


^ 


The  anawer  of  the  sjiiod,  aa  embodied  in  the  above-mentioned 

report  of  its  committee,  came  to  this : —  i 

1st.  That  no   further  notice   shall   be   taken  of  the  observational*^ 
concerning  the  expression  "  the  e.-dstinf^  liberty  of  teaching,"  ' 

2udly.  That  the  I'equest  of  Messrs.  rranaen   van   de  Putte   onit ^ 

Huydecoper,  to  cancel  everytlting  in  the  rtguJations,  &c.,  shall  not  1«^^" 
complied  with. 

3rdly.  Tliat  the  synod  shall  continue  promoting  the  legal  liberty  o0^ 
the  members  of  the  Church  in  so  Hx  as  couipatible  with  the,  order  \s»- 
the  Church ;  proof  of  which  intuntion  mi<jht  be  found  in  the  fact  that-    ' 
already  alterations  are  made  in  the  regulations  concerning  baptism 


The  I'reesi  Church  hi  Ckrisietidom. 


461 


and  confirmation,  and  that  measures  are  being  lakeu  Ibr  carrying  tlie 
23rd  article  into  practice. 

In  its  anaotatiaa  to  section  2  the  Coimalttee  aays: — 

""We  say,  Tvith  Dr.  Huydecnjiet',  tlmt  w*?  <:armQ't  imagiiw  a  <^Iinrnli  wtt)iout 
a  •W'trine.  We  say  thnt  tJie  syiKnl  imiy  not  be  an  inat-tivc  -witness,  iniu'.h 
es  an  (M:coin]i]ice,,  wlterR  otir  Church  is  in  flanj^^or  of  losing  liur  character, 
id  of  heeoinitig  jMfrhaps  Rontaii  Catholic,  Mohaiiuiii'Jim,  or  Buddhistic.  It 
18  our  finii  cotivi<;tir>n  that  such  a  tiling  as  bonmili^sa  hl>urty  of  teaching  raay 
not  be  leguliwd ;  that  he  who  lioes  not  btliesB  in  Qinl  i:annat  hr?  a  teacher 
of  rtligiciti ;  that  he  who  iloea  not  Tjetieve  in  .h^ax  Ohriff  cHiinot  Iw  4 
Cliriatiiiii  teachf^r  ;  that  he  who  tlcjef  iipI  imld  fiist  the  6i)^p<tl  of  Goid  'jrtinn 
in  Chrint  cannnt  rightly  belong  to  the  clergy  of  nn  eyapgelieal  ur  reformfld 
Chim-h ;  and  that  hs  who  dyes  not  \\oh\  fast  the'  Uh'rtfi  vf  senrchiu;/  cannot 
SilUBre  with  the  t^achsR  of  a  Protestant  (ihurch.  ^VhJIo  thus  we  recogniBe 
those  four  nH|uieitea  jjb  indlfipcusabk^  iii  tins  teachers  of  onr  Churcli, —  the 
k<^eping  hold  of  God>  of  Clirist,  of  the  Gospel,  and  of  liberty, — ivu  iit  the 
same  tinn*  ileclare  our  conviction  that  all  ecclesiasticiJ  boards,  and  tkVivL*  ull  the 
synoi],  ottjifbt  at  leasE  U>  wntch  uvrt  the  jtri'survation  of  these  requisitei^,  and 
to  Eimintaiii  the  d^iclrine  of  our  Chiu'ch  in  so  far  as  is  Gxpreascd  in  the  1 1  ili 
article  of  the  general  codu  of  reguliUi'Oiis." 

The  Committee  then  euumemtes  the  difflcultios  which  are  connected 
ivifh  eiich  nf  the  proposed  measui-es  of  redress,  whereupon  it  proceeds 
in  these  words : — 

"We  have  urriveil  nt  the  conelusiim  at  wliich  the  meinnrialiBta  ehoiihi 
Jiavi!  arrived  evpn  sooner  than  wo,  that  im  panwd  purity  tlie  eondition  of  the 
Cliiinjh,  ueithor  i-aii  wo  isiaintftin  its  doctrine,  at  least  {immetn)  not  hy 
iiirigthti  c.oui'at  in  whicli  it  is  attcinptud  tn  lead  ua.  Tine  ia  hoyund  the 
of  tlifi  synod,  nay.  beyond  any  hnman  power.  Such  \a  \\w  condilinii 
il  teachuig,  nf  society  at  Inrgo,  and  of  the  Chnrch  in  particular,  and 
5t  cannot  hu  helpeiL  Even  when  deeming  that  condition  altogether  ohjoe- 
ticmuble,  it  is  plainly  ijiipoasihle  quitkty  and  thoroughly  to  iinprovH  it  by 
;h  and  suth  a  menaure.  ^\^lat,  then,  ia  left  to  I*  done  by  ub  in  our 
'HflBpacitT  aa  mc^mbcrs  of  the  eyiiod,  as  rulers  of  the  Church,  an  ChristianH  'i 
Tlie  ans^Vft  of  your  coiumittec  tu  this  i|iieattoti  is  not  chibioua  :  kk  Mumf 
ttcltntil.  llie  jiitsetit  condition  nf  the  C'hui-ch  is  too  inighly  foe  ua.  Phe 
Christian  t.'hurch  here  Kdow  is  not  perfect,  and  ia  usually  in  suirt-i-in/^  and 
jxiin.  W'e  caniiot  hf  purified  to  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven  except  Vi  and 
through  majiy  trihahitiona" 

The  Committee  closes  witli  the  following  ohservatious ; — 

"  It  is  clear  that  the  tnto  source  of  tlie — in  many  respects-^! (strewing  and 
i^onfused  cooditiLin  of  our  Church  lies  in  a  entontiljc  strife,  Thn  amazing 
progress  of  the  nutunJ  ei'rtencefl,  jind  the  rich  disiroveriaa  tif  hi-stury,  havi-  given 
rise  to  11  conLeniphition  of  the  luiivertse  which  is  at  vuriauce  with  tlie  liitln'iio 
aecepted  theology.  If  that  contemplation  of  the  worUl  is  wholly  in  the 
right,  the  theology  which  h:vs  been,  prevalent  hitberttj  will  fall  allogoHier, 
If  it  is  altogether  m  the  wrong,  theolojy  wilt  overthrow  it.  Jf  truth  an'i 
right  side  only  in  pRrt  with  it,  it  will  cnii(jui.T  as  far  as  thiit  part  is  tun- 
cenied,  and  theolrtgy  wUl  by  the  strife  ehange  mucli,  hut  idfio  become 
purified  aud  soQCtilied,  and  after  eomci  time  blossom  moro  bri^jhtly  than 


462     . 


The  Conlemporary  Review, 


Ixjfoiv.  But  whiitever  may  be  the  ivsull,  tliflt  result  teiU  niily  Ije  j>ossilil« 
tlifOHgli  thf  five  development  of  scictiw.  If  sck'iice  liaa  iiillit'tfHl  woimiia 
upon  tilt'  (.'luireh,  those  woiuids,  if  ciimblv:,  L-an  only  lie  ia-alvd  liy  si^ieiu" 
itself.  I'ngmstisms,  i^nniknuuatinii-'j,  mid  siispicione,  ure  of  no  uw  hi'i'c  Oh 
tliL'  contmry,  tliey  maku  th<!  matter  worse, 

"In  fui-met  tit'nturita  it  wua  beLicved — tLoiigli,  us  Img  Wi-n  slioini  \yj 
L'^iJi-riomiL',  unjustly — tli«t  tlio  Rtdbi-miid  rLuiuli  liiid  tlie  po-n-i^i-  of  piv- 
sorviny  a  ctrtain  strictly  dwtincd  and  fentred-iu  diictrijit;  thronyh-  chunh 
HidJiwitii.  This  U'liyf  Ciinnnt  be  niuintuined  uny  lunger,  Thv  lilrtrty  "f 
scienci',  the  jiuhliu  diacuasiim  aUmt  iiU  tho  i]ue.'4li'(ins  rimcftiimg  ]'Iii!«sopliy 
and  theology,  render  tiiut  luitlmrity  jmwerk'S.'i  in  the  invflL'ut. 

"li'j  constqunntly,  luiythin;^  Ih  to  lut;  dotio  fru-  tbj  jJi'i'siu'rvatiuu  of  lb« 
Utifurnu'd  Church  Jind  its  diictrini',  that  order  Miay  ri^i  out  ••i  tla-  foJLfiiaiuM, 
it  ran,  in  tiiir  opinion^  unly  lie  done  tlirouyli  tliu  uljuve-nirntii-nni  un'iuis, 
anil  [lartitndnrly  tIiron;;;h  tlnv  liist-nientionwl — ?«;ienc'<.'.  We  dd  not  say, 
tlinmsh  adinlnrshiii,  Ltit  throngli  aciencc  ;  thron*?h  oni*'a  own  ii]dii]ii"iidetii, 
tiiorriii(,di,  uiiiircjuitirtiJ,  luid  tolieri^nt  hiaight,  Iwiainl  upnn  inqidry  and  medi- 
l.:iUoii,  wliich  inaiglit  is  nbUiinnblc  alao  by  tbosi'  who  <;iinti]uu'  diniugera  ta 
^I'boliir^liip,  thim<;h  tlii^y  may  not  Iw  abb  to  do  witlioiit  the  gttid&uce  uf  tlia ' 
.scholars." 

I'erliaps  thure  ia  iiut  anutLcr  instance  tu  be  met  with  in  eccleaias-^ 
tical  history  of  a  document  issuing  fi-om  the  hlglieet  court  of  a  churdi, , 
in  which  that  court  so  milnesitiLtingly  cnufesses  ils  inipintcuce  to  do  it.i 
diit)',  or  in  wliich  so  many  cout-mdictoiy  aasertiiuns  aiij  put  togethec 
witliui  such  narrow  conii>ciss,  and  in  which  the  Holy  Spirit,  given  to ., 
the  Church  tu  ytiule  it  into  all  tnitli,  L*  so  uuraistakcal dy  lliouyh 
tacitly  set  aside.     The  Tijd,  which  ia  the  chief  ui'i^aii  of  lUe  liuman 
■Catholic  i»aity  in  our   country,  has,   in   three   cuttinj;   ftrticles   [iuj 
October,  iyij-5),  jjfjinted   out  tlie  ■inwnxuti:naj.  the  imcrrfrssiiext,  and 
tlie  Mii/wliiuss  of  this  olhciiLl  duciuuiiut ;  and  theie  ia,  in  my  opimoj],, 
notliing  but  truth  in  the  asseition  of  that  periodical,  tbat — 

"  ITio  eynod,  while  prplpuding  to  be  ■willing  to  ninintain  the  Ctinfweiou  of^ 
tbe  Rcfmnied  (.'htirch,  hiw,  of  its  fm'n  acrciixJ,  without  huvinj^  any  oompBtenry 
whatLivcr,  un-eptcd  i\iid  |m?Bcribfid  a  i^uite  new  confession,  wldch  is  no  coii- 
fcftsiou  at  nil,  yiin;o  it  di^tinL'S  nothinj;,  luid,  if  thrown  intu  tbe  mid«t  of  tii*' 
contest  of  ujitniima  which  jfora  frosa  pol-e  to  jmle,  piiivt's  only  a  deceitful 
play  of  woi-da." 

Till?  evidently  refers  to  tlie  new  furmnlfl  of  subscription  for  llie 
candidates,  which  tho  synod  published  on  November  27,  1854,  and 
THUS  OS  follows : — 

^'^T,  tbp  nndpfdignod,  A.  Tl.(  appointed,  Ac,  .  ,  .  heivby  finciTcly  deeUn.', 
that,  acnordiny  to  tiiiu  fundamental  principli?  of  the  t'hrisliinj  Cbttrch  in 
jieni-raJ,  and  oi'  tbi6  iLfformeil  <.'hnr<di  in  ]iartii:nlar,  I  do  with  ivlt  ray  hwuit 
acc^'pl  iuiiL  aincendy  believe  the  lioly  Word  of  God  toutainiHl  in  the  Scrip- 
tuiva  of  th'^  fJld  and  New  Ti>stanient ;  that  I  am  dispoat-d  and  willing  fiiilli- 
fully  to  nmintain  tho  spirit  and  essence  {Imii/ilsiitik)  of  thi':  flnctruic  wnirh  i» 
cnat^kiiiF'd  in  tlie  i-et-eive*!  formulas  uf  coiitioi'daneu  of  tlio  Xctborltinili* 
Eeforinctl    Church ;    that,  according  to   the  gifta  given  unto  me,  1  will 


The  Freest  Church  in  Christendom.  463 

earnestly  and  cordially  preach  to  the  Church  all  the  counsel  of  God, 
especially  Hia  grace  in  .Jcaiis  Christ  as  the  only  ground  of  salvation  ;  tliat 
I  will  apply  myself  with  all  zeal  to  the  fiirtlieranco  of  religious  knowledge, 
and  of  Christian  faith  and  lifo ;  and  that  I  will  advocate  and  promote  onler 
and  unity :  that,  conseciuently,  looking  up  to  the  help  which  is  from  above, 
I  will  carefully  take  to  heart  the  intereats  of  God's  kingdom,  and  of  the 
Ketherlands  lieformed  Church  in  particular,  and,  as  much  as  is  in  my 
power,  contribute  to  the  furtherance  thereof.  I  also  pledge  myself  by  this 
my  signature  to  maintain  all  tlie  above-wiitten,  &c." 

Cei-tainly  this  formula  sounds  grave  enough ;  but  practice  has 
proved  that  it  opens  a  door  for  various  interjiretations,  even  the  most 
injurious  to  the  Church.  The  writer  has,  with  his  own  ears,  heaixl 
members  of  high  ecclesiastical  boards  declare  "that  it  cannot  any 
more  be  made  ont  what  the  doctrine  of  the  Reformed  Church  is." 
According  to  the  opinion  of  Mr.  Chantepie  de  la  Saussaye,*  minister 
of  the  Church  at  Rotterdam,  we  have  at  present  the  most  miserable 
church  government  of  all  the  Christian  churches  in  the  world. 
According  to  the  opinion  of  Mr.  Van  Koetsveld,t  of  the  Hague,  all 
our  ecclesiastical  laws  and  regulations  are  like  a  wax  nose.  Horace 
said,  "  Quid  leges,  sine  moribus,  vanae  proficiunt  ? " 

No  wonder  that,  under  tliese  circumstances,  the  deviation  from  the 
doctrine  of  our  Church,  in  our  public  preaching,  increases  in  an  alarm- 
ing way.  Thousands  of  the  most  seriously  minded  people  run  for 
refuge  to  secession  or  to  private  conventicles,  which  are  ver/  much 
like  Protestant  convents.  Others  sink  back  into  dull  despondency. 
The  Church  of  Eome  lifts  up  its  head  as  it  has  never  done  since  the 
days  of  the  Keformation,  and  it  exults  triimiphantly  in  the  approach- 
ing fall  of  our  Church. 

Let  us  now  inquire  into  the  source  of  the  evil.  The  professors  of 
divinity  at  our  three  universities,  whose  colleges  our  future  clergy- 
men are,  by  the  law,  obliged  to  attend,  are  not  under  the  control  of 
the  Church,  but  they  are  officers  of  the  State.  The  128th  Article  of 
the  Royal  liesolution  on  Academical  Instruction  is  as  follows  : — "  All 
the  professors,  those  at  the  University  of  Leiden  as  well  as  those  of 
Utrecht  and  Groningen,  are  officers  of  the  State  {Landsbeambten) ;" 
consetiuently,  they  are  not  elected  by  the  synod,  but  by  the  King,  out 
of  a  couiile  presented  to  him  by  the  curators  of  the  university.  The 
King,  however,  lea^'es  the  whole  matter  in  the  hands  of  the  Minister 
for  Inner  Affairs.     For  several  years  past  this  high  office  was  occu- 

•  Mr.  C.  de  la  S.  was  fortneriy  "Walloon  clergyman  at  Leiden,  nnd  editor  of  a  now 
extinct  theological  periodical  entitled  Jirmt  en  Vretfe  (Earnestnesa  and  Peace),  which  waa 
the  organ  of  the  Ethic-Irenic  party.  He  la  also  tha  author  of  a  Commentary  upon  tho 
Epietle  to  the  Ilehrcwa,  and  many  other  popular  worka. 

+  Mr.  V.  K.  is  a  clergyman  who  tries  to  keep  the  middle  path  between  orthodoxy  nnd 
rationalism.  lie  ia  the  author  of  many  popular  works,  mostly  of  a  practical  tendency. 
He  ia  also  the  foimder  of  a  school  for  idiots  at  the  Hague,  which  is  admirably  conducted. 


464  Tl^ie  Contemporary  Reinew. 

pied  by  tlie  ver>'  talented  and  skilftil  statesman  Dr.  Tliorbecfce,  who 
aoly  vety  recently  (Feb.,  1806)  resigned.  Now  Dr.  Thorbecku,  wLo  is 
the  son  of  a  Hatjoveriau,  and  of  tlie  Lutheraii  coufessian,  is  w-ith  all 
the  enei'j'y  of  liia  elirttacter  devoted  to  the  [irihciples  of  the  so-[;all«d 
modem  theology,  which  finds  its  representatives  in  Strauss,  Benan, 
And  Ite\'ille.  Tlds  man,  during;  a  considerahle  period  of  time,  iraa 
virtually  in  exclusive  possession  of  the  power  of  calling  and  aj>- 
pointing  those  who  have  to  inatmct  and  train  the  students  for  the 
holy  ministry  of  tiur  Clmrch.  It  may  eatsily  be  imat,dned  what  class 
of  tlicoloj^dans  t^njoy&l  liis  preference.  He  has  been  known  to  decline 
to  choose  either  of  the  two  candidates  presented  by  the  emptors,  he- 
canae  botli  M'ere  too  ortfiodox  ibr  his  taste,  and  to  ask  for  a  freah 
couple.  Well  may  we  inquii-e,  what,  iinder  sucli  circutnstaH' 
becomes  of  the  highly  praised  freedom  of  our  Chureh  ? 

But  the  confiieicin  in  oiu*  ChiLRdi  be^n  long  liefui'e  Thorbeeki 
became  our  premier.  The  University  of  Granin^'en  tixik  the  lead 
so  early  as  the  year  183lj.  Some  of  ita  profeesora  and  pupils  who 
were  cliielly  educated  under  the  inilueuce  of  tlie  eminent  i''Int«nic 
plulosopher.  Professor  Vim  Heusden.  at  Utrecht,  bei^'an  to  a<lvocate 
a  new  conception  of  the  doctrines  of  the  Gospel,  and  to  popularize 
it  in  a  much-read  luonthly  journal  called  Truth  in  Lon\  Tlieir 
theolo">'  was  marked  by  n-armth,  feiTour,  and  liveliness  of  fceUu!;, 
which  contrasted  favourably  with  the  dulne-sa  which  charactCTizeil 
many  of  the  ortho<lox  preachers  of  those?  days.  This  "  Groningen 
sehuul,"— for  this  waa  the  name  it  went  by,  —  though  fip|M»seii 
hy  many,  met  with  the  enthusiastic  sympathy  of  a  considerable 
number.  It  commended  itself  to  the  popular  feeling  hy  its  prat- 
iical  tendency.  It  promoted  all  kinds  uf  philanthropic  scheme-s, 
and  strongly  advocated  migsious  to  the  heathen.  But  it  was  not 
based  upou  the  doctrine  of  the  Chuirh.  It  was  a  mixture  of 
PlatoniNru  and  Scldtiiermacherism.  It  firat  privately  and  afterwaids 
jaibliely  denied  the  Trinity,  the  Divinity  of  Christ,  and  His  Atone- 
ment. On  the  other  hand,  it  prominently  placed  the  hnniauity  'if 
Jesus  in  the  forejjTf)und.  Stxange  to  say,  it  iicknowl<?di;e<l  all  the 
events  of  his  life,  M'hieh  the  ti-ospels  record,  as  historically  Ime- 
It  bcUeved  in  the  miraclea  of  Chi'ist,  and  in  his  corijoreal  rt;.<mr- 
rection.  Evidently  enough,  it  was-  a  transitiou  thoologj-,  moviiif: 
towarvis  ft  system  less  ambiguous  and  at  the  same  time  less  scriptural- 
Its  blossoming  time  was  the  d^^cade  h«tween  1840-.'i0,  after  which  it 
ceased  to  miike  progross:  a  new  school  wa:*  rishiy,  which  put  it  iu  tin? 
shade. 

This  new  acbool  wfis  that  of  Leiden.  The  chief  pnifcasor  if 
divinity  at  that  nnivei-aity,  Dr.  Scliolten,  a  man  of  high  intellect  and 
great  sagacity,  wrote  a  work  in  two  volumes,  about  the  year  18nU, 


ce^i 
!ck^^ 


i 


T!ie  Freest  Church  in  Christendom. 


46S 


I 
I 

I 

I 


I 


eatitled  "  The  Doctrine  of  the  Kefbnned  Church  vieived  in  its  Fuoda- 
menUI  Prmciijles/'*  This  book  had  a  ktge  sale.  It  went  through 
three  editions  witbui  a  few  yefl-rs.  Its  influence  iiprtn  the  minds  of 
the  students  aiid  the  yoting  clet^^ien  of  the  Church  wfts  voty  nuirked. 
It  completely  upset  the  whole  system  of  the  Graningen  school,  the 
ambiguity  of  whose  semi-rational,  semi-aeriptural  standpoint,  and  the 
Tintenablenesa  of  -whose  Ariaiiism,  it  clearly  exposed.  The  author 
professed  to  be  a  thorough  Calvinist.  Indeed,  lie  energetically  took 
up  one  side  of  Calvinism,  especially  the  doctrine  of  predestination, 
which  however  he  interpreted  and  worked  ont  in  such  a  peculiiir  way 
that  he  arrived  at  a  system  of  absolute  drierniinism,  wliiclr  entirely 
takes  away  man's  free  will,  and  with  it  liia  responsibility,  his  [jower 
of  prayer,  &c.  With  this  more  pkilosoiiliical  than  tlieologicid  sys- 
tem a  great  many  opinions  were  connected  which  savoured  of  any- 
thing but  Calvinism.  A  shaip  distinction  was  made  between  God's 
Word  and  ScripttnY.  Several  portions  of  tlie  latter  were  rejected, 
some  of  whioh,  however,  were  aftei-TA'ards  readmitted.  The  Gospel 
narrative  of  the  Lord's  miraculous  birth,  for  instance,  was  rE-'jiudiated. 
The  Divinity  of  Christ  is  not  lui  iudis[»eusab!e  ingredient  iu  Dr. 
Scholten'a  system.  Htill  he  held  for  some  length  of  time  to  the 
doctrine  of  the  Loril's  corporeal  resurrection;  but  it  is  doubtful 
whether  he  does  so  now.  In  a  recently  pulilisheil  work  he  has 
imputed  the  genuineness  of  the  Gospel  of  St.  John.  If  I  am  right, 
Dr.  8cliit)lfen  stca  in  Scripture  nothin*T  more  than  the  litersiture  of  the 
Hebrew  naliou,  and  of  the  first  Christians.  His  younger  colleagues, 
Professor  Kuenen  and  Professor  liauwenhof,  are  of  the  same  spirit, 
aaid  go  even  tuuch  farther  than  he  dons.  His  colleague,  Professor 
Prills,  who  is  of  bis  own  age,  keeps  iu  the  twilight  between  ortho- 
doxy Eind  neology,  and  is  too  weak  to  stem  the  flooded  ciureut  of 
these  jiowerful  streams. 

But  intliiential  as  the  Leiden  school  waa,  and  tn  a  certain  extent 
still  is.  it  is  lieiiig  outstripped  by  the  Empiric  school,  which  sprang 
up  aome  ten  yeiira  ago,  and  goes  now  by  the  name  of  the  Afmirrn 
Thctiloiji/.  Its  chief  leader  ia  the  vtiiy  talented  Dr.  Opsoomer,  I'ro- 
fessur  of  Mural  Philosophy  iu  the  University  of  Utrecht.  His  party 
might  be  called  tlie  "Utrecht  school  but  for  the  fact  that  the  thr^e 
professors  of  divinity  at  that  uuiversity.  Dr.  Ter  Haar,  Dr.  Doedes, 
aud  Dr.  Van  Ousterzee,  ai-e  opposed  to  his  system.  The  teaching  of 
these  divines  being  in  accordance  with  the  fundamental  doctrines  of 
the  Church  creed,  the  orthodox  party  look  ujiou  I'ti-eeht  as  thrir 
umversity.     Unfortunately,  however,  the  law  makes  it  obligatory  on 


"   "  De   L(pr  iIlt    IIcL-viiomde   Kerk  ia   1mm  grondbt-ginseleTi."      Fir.   Choutepie  do  U 
EAiUfiftye  gaVo  n  tliorough  biit  nnfavuiimbLc  criticlim  of  ft  in  bii  uboTe^intntiotied  pdri- 
\     odiLoJ. 


465 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


rstciuj 


F 


tbe  young  men  to  attetid  the  lectures  of  the  profcisor  of  moral  pliilo- 
sophy  duiiiiR  the  first  two  yea-rs  <jf  their  university  cmriculxuii,  beff>re 
thuy  eati  Iw  at:liuitti?i.l  to  the  sttiily  of  theology ;  go  that  the  theohtgii-al 
professors  i-eceivc  their  pupils  iis  it  wcte  from  thi;  hauJg  of  I'ruPe&sor 
Opzoomer.  It  is  not  needful  to  charactcfize  Dr.  Oii^oomer's  systi^m. 
It  is  only  necessaiy  to  say  that  in  one  of  his  hooks  he  has  declared 
that  "the  (losiiel  la  a  ■wasp's  nest  full  of  failles."  The  supevnatuiiil 
hai^,  in  his  oiiinicm,  no  existenne,  or,  it"  it  has,  it  has  yet  to  ha 
ahowTi  R.'^  it  has  never  hitlierto  been.  Such  thin^^'s  as  mintcles  a 
of  coufse.  altogether  nut  of  tlie  question.  Dr.  ( tp;;rionier  has  not  y 
gone  80  far  as  positively  to  say  that  tliere  is  no  personuJ  (!oil,  but  it 
impossible  to  see  how  such  a  Ku-inj;  could  ha^'e  a  place  in  his  syi 
which  resolves  itself  into  Ihit  Pantheiani.  The  faet  that  sueh  a  teach 
occupies,  as  it  were,  the  eutmneu  :ind  gi'ouiid-lloor  of  the  university 
(Dr.  Dn  Ctista  use*.!  to  call  it  the  Dardanelles),  must  be  all  the  mure 
injiiriaiis  to  the  Church,  since  he  is  gilled  with  an  extraordiuary  talent 
for  putting  his  thoughts  in  atti-nctive  forms  hehire  the  minds  of  his 
hearers.  To  inexperienced  young  men  his  eh^iueuce  is  all  but  irrB 
sistible.  Many  orthodox  families,  ahia  I  have  experienced  the  s.i 
consequences  of  his  fascinating  power  over  their  sous,  whom  they 
ltoi)ed  one  day  to  hear  preach  tlte  Gospel.  1  will  only  point  to 
one  of  thosu  unhappy  cases,  which  has^  more  than  that  of  any  other, 
attiTicted  public;  attention,  owing  to  the  highly  vespectJihle  charactetj 
and  eminent  talents  of  the  young  man  concerned.  I  refer  to  the 
well-known  and  renowned  Dr.  Pierson,  late  minister  of  the  Walloon 
Uhnrch  of  Ifottcitiam,  and  eoUeaguti  of  his  friend.  Dr.  Keville.  His 
parents  were  members  of  the  most  I'espectahle  merchant  class  of 
Amstenlani,  and  ranked  foremost  among  the  lending  oitbtxlox  families 
of  our  metr'T'polis.  Great  expectations  wei"L"  entertained  for  tlie  gond 
of  the  ChiU'ch  when  this  noble  iind  well-educnted  yonug  man,  some 
twelve  years  ago,  weut  to  the  University  of  Utrecht.  He  com- 
menced his  theological  career  by  attending  Dr.  Opzoomer,  and  he  has 
recently  cloeed  it  by  renouncing  Clitistiunity  altogetlier.  He  has 
resigned  his  charge  as  a  minister  of  the  Church,  and  removed  to 
Heidelb^^,  In  a  recently  published  pamphlet,  entitled  "  Dr.  Pierson 
to  his  Lost  Chnreh,"  he  has  given  an  account  of  this  step,  and  declared 
that  as  an  honest  man  he  could  no  longer  continue  a  member,  far  le.9S 
a  pastor  of  a  Christian  church,  since  humanity  is,  in  his  opinion,  a 
much  higlior  realization  of  unity  than  any  association  lnised  ujpon  tht 
principles  of  Cln-istianity.  In  former  writinga  he  prijfessed  his  pro- 
found admiration  for  Jesus  as  a  teacher  of  rcdigiou.  nor  would  he 
Infuse  to  be  niimbered  among  his  followers,  inasnnich  as  he  symi^a- 
thized  with  many  of  his  moral  precepts,  and  with  his  chief  opinions 
about  Providcnec,  &c.     But  then  he  would  (wei'e  it  not  for  the  uiifi 


4 


The  Freesi  Chu7'ch  in  ChHslendom.  467 

vourable  signification  which  the  term  unfortunately  has  obtained)  like 
better  to  be  called  "a  Jesuit"  than  "  a  Christian,"  since,  in  his  opinion, 
the  Christ-idea  was  a  chimera  of  the  ancient  Jewish  Christians,  which 
in  a  fanatic  way  they  somehow  connected  with  the  innocent  person  of 
the  Kabbi  of  Nazareth.  No  doubt,  from  a  moral  point  of  view,  Dr. 
Pierson's  resignation  may  be  regarded  as  a  high  proof  of  hia  in- 
tegrity of  character.  Nor  does  he  stand  alone  in  this  respect.  Mr. 
Busken  Hul-t,  minister  of  the  Walloon  Church  at  Haarlem  (now  one 
of  the  r^ular  contributors  to  the  Haarlem  Courant\  had  previously 
resigned  his  charge,  and  for  the  same  reason.  Tlieir  example  was 
followed  by  ^Tr.  De  Veer,  of  Delft  (now  director  of  a  high-class  popular 
school  in  that  town),  and  it  is  still  being  followed  by  others.  One 
can  scarcely  tell,  or  even  imagine,  to  what  an  extent  the  band  of 
our  clergj'men  would  be  thinned,  especially  of  the  younger  portion, 
if  all  those  who  either  publicly  or  covertly  adiiere  to  this  theology 
were  to  resign  their  places.  It  is  a  sad  truth  that  many  of  the  most 
talented  and  gifted  men  in  our  Church  are  now  in  the  service  of  that 
spirit  which  "  permanently  denies."  Our  Netherlands  Eeformed 
Church,  under  the  power  of  "modem"  politicians  and  "modem" 
scholars,  is  being  inwardly  tom  to  pieces.  Tliousands  who  devotedly 
love  her,  and  refuse  to  secede  from  her,  yet  leave  tlieir  children 
unbaptized,  and  have  for  many  years  been  without  partaking  of  the 
sacrament  of  the  Supper.  Others  have  fallen  back  into  obscure  sects, 
while  many  otliers  have  emigrated  to  America. 

My  view  of  the  present  condition  of  our  Church  would  be  very 
deficient  did  it  not  deal  with  what  has  been  done  on  the  part  of 
the  true  friends  of  the  Creed  to  opi)Ose  those  iiemicious  influences. 
From  the  commencement  of  the  rationalistic  movement  a  loud  and 
powerful  protest  has  been  raised,  which,  in  many  cases,  has  issued  in 
actual  secession.     And  this  protest  still  continues. 

Tlie  man  who  may  be  said  to  have  given  the  first  impulse  towards 
opposition  was  Dr.  William  Bildertlijk  (bom  1756,  died  1831).  He 
was  a  man  of  extraordinary  genius  and  learning,  who,  had  it  not  been 
his  lot  to  write  in  a  language  spoken  only  by  three  millions  of  people. 
Would  have  earned  a  European  fame,  and  been  ranked  with  audi 
geniuses  as  Dant«,  Milton,  and  Goethe.  He  was  undoubtedly  our 
greatest  poet.  His  poetical  works  alone,  which  were  recently  re- 
printed, flu  fourteen  \olumes,  and  comprise  every  kind  of  poetry, 
froiu  the  epic  to  the  ballad  and  the  epigram.  As  a  linguist  he  far 
surpassed  liis  contemjwraries ;  his  acquaintance  with  jurisprudence 
n-as  deep  and  extensive ;  and  in  knowledge  of  history  he  had  not  his 
Br[ual  in  Holland.  His  history  of  our  country  fills  twelve  volumes. 
In  medicine  he  had  vast  skill;  and  he  could  also  draw  and  etch 
successfully.     He  was  a  genuine  Christian,  cordially  believing  the 


p 


46S  The  Contemporary  Review. 

tnitha  of  the  Bible,  and  firmly  attaciied  to  the  doctrine  of  the  CliuTcli 
fif  wliich  be  wns  a  membur.  Aa  the  sti'oagly  marked  politiciil  party 
spirit  ut"  the  days  in  which  he  flourished  prevented  him  from  oliiaJJi- 
ing  a  pnjfessoria!  clmir  at  any  of"  oar  TmiveraitieSf  he  opened  hia  house 
at  Leiden  for  the  reception  of  such  yoimg  mi'ii  as  were  dt'sirons  of 
profiting'  by  the  riuhes  of  his  loai-iiiug  and  genius.  Amimj*  these 
wi!re  the  manly  and  talented  Dr.  Isaac  da  Costa  (died  in  1B59},  and 
Pr.  Abraham  C'apadose  (still  alive),  \vho^  having  tieen  received  iw 
members  into  our  Church  in  1822,  set  abtjut  opposing  the  sceptical 
spirit  of  the  age  with  all  the  fervour  of  their  fiusfi  and  enthusiastic 
convictions.  More  or  less  connected  with  this  "Btlderrlijk  schoor 
was  also  Dr.  LJ.  Uroen  van  rrinaterer,  one  of  ouv  ablest  and  most 
learned  politicians.  He  was  and  still  is  a  counseUor  of  State,  and  is 
the  anthoT  of  some  excellent  works  on  the  history  of  our  cuHiitry. 
Tor  upwards  of  tweiity-tive  years,  while  a  Member  of  Parliament, 
he  defende*!  the  Church  and  the  rights  of  the  orthodox  party,  with 
nnflinching  neal  and  cnnnige,  against  the  attncks  and  cunniiig  devicra 
of  the  innovators.  He  is  still  the  head  and  ornament  of  the  sO'CaUed 
anti'Tevolutionary  party  in  our  countr}'.  These  eminent  men  were 
gradually  jnined  by  n  few  noblemen  and  clergymen,  most  of  whom 
were  inlluenced  by  the  religioiLS  uiovement  which  originated  in 
Geneva,  and  liaa  spread  through  the  Reformed  Churchea  of  Swit- 
zerland, Frarice,  and  Holland, 

The  irrejj'ularities  in  the  Church,  and  the  deviations  from  its  doc- 
trine, though  of  course  not  then  so  gross  as  in  the  present  day,  were 
conspicuous  enough  to  alnrm  llie  seriously  minded  all  through  tlis 
country.  Their  eyes  were  now  opened  to  the  great  imprudfiice  tlifiV 
had  committed  in  allowing  the  synod  of  1816  to  exist,  and  to  dn  its 
work  wliolly  un])rotested  against.  The  synod,  having  now  an  auttf 
cratic  fKjwer,  and  being  rendered  independent  by  the  King's  antlio- 
rity,  did  nothing  to  lessen  the  existing  grievances.  At  length,  abcul 
183^,  thousands  seceded  from  what  they  called  "the  Church  connec- 
tion of  1816,"  and  established  a  .Separatist  Church,  under  the  leadi^r- 
ship  of  a  few  eler^Tnen.  But  William  I.  was  not  the  man  to  allniv 
his  pet  acheme  to  be  opposed  -without  serious  con9ef[uences.  IM' 
goona  were  marched  through  the  country  to  disperse  the  reli^'ious 
meetings,  This  was  done  under  covei'  of  an  article  in  the  C«it 
Naprile*]]),  wliicJi  is  still  the  penal  code  of  our  country,  and  forlsiilii 
assemblies  of  uicire  than  twenty  persiDus,  unless  authorized  by  tlie 
Government*  Teople  were  heavily  fined,  and  ministers  were  im- 
priaoned.     It  was  a  cruel  time  of  persecution.     Huntbeds  of  fanuMcs 

*  TliiH  artjolp  -B-ae,  in  tlie  ycnir  1848,  tnntentd  ty  tlie  cnattnient  of  ■  aju'tinl  IttVf  "th) 
tliD  Qiglit  of  AaBeraLliiif,"  liy  ■nhii.-li  no  auttjority  ia  rCijuiri'd  frofu  Ihe  0D7efiiincilt  fw  '^ 
meeting  of  uiy  numlier  of  poople. 


The  Freest  Chnnh  in  ChrisUndom. 


4&9 


acnped  to  America.  In  vain  did  Dr.  Groen  van  PrLusterer  show  in 
a  niiisterly  pamiihlet*  that  these  ineiisures  "were  a  ]>o]itioal  hlundei", 
as  well  as  a  gross  injustice.  Bid  nut  until  Wdliam  TI,  succeeded 
Ids  father  od  the  throne  in  ISil),  did  tL«  SejiHrntiats  ohtain  their 
tlesiretl  litierty.  TlieLr  number  increases  liraduaUy.  In  1859  it 
amciuiited  to  65,000.  They  have  about  150  churches.  Their  organ- 
iaation  heing  based  upon  the  creed  and  church  relations  uf 
Doitlt,  they  Inok  upon  themselves  as  the  original  Netherlands 
lleformeil  rhurcli.  The  official  title  of  their  church  however  is, 
Ch-istclijic  A/ff6schcitinu  Gcrc/ormccrde  Xcrk  (Christian  Separate  Re- 
formed Church). 

This  SBcession  luovenieut  ■was  not  shared  by  the  aristocratic 
ortbodoK  party  in  the  Cliurch,  nor  by  the  clei*iy.  Dr.  Groen  van 
IMn&terer  and  his  friends  were  of  opinion  that  much  more  co\ild 
be  done  fur  the  cure  of  the  sick  Church  by  remaining  iu  it  than  by 
secediuy-  So  public  pi-oteat  within  the  limit  of  the  church  \&ws  was 
enteteti  on.  The  "Gniningen  school"  doctrines,  which  l^e{Ifl.n  to  gain 
gn">uiid  more  and  more,  induced  seven  hii,'hly  distinguished  and 
inHuential  gentlemen  at  the  Hague  to  publish  an  eloquent  and 
powerful  address  to  the  synod  in  1842.  These  seven  men  Tvere  the 
Count  -D.  van  Hojfendcirp,  the  Hon.  B.  H.  W.  Gevera,  Dr.  A.  Capa- 
dose,  iJi'.  G.  Groen  van  Priuaterer  (probably  the  ccunposer  of  the 
address,),  the  Hon.  P.  J.  Elout,  the  H-on.  J.  A,  Siogendonck,  and 
Mr,  C.  W.  van  der  Kemp.  Tlie  title  of  this  memorial  waa,  "Address 
to  the  G&neral  Synod  of  the  Netherlands  Iteformed  Churth  on  the 
formulas  of  concordance,  the  academical  tmining  of  the  ministers,  the 
school  t-eaching,  and  the  church  gavern.nient."-f-  After  havuifj;  clearly 
proved  the  grosfjuesa  of  the  deviations  of  the  Groninyea  school  from 
the  church  doctrine,  by  ample  quotationa  from  its  periijdical,  Truih 
in  Lmr,  and  haviiij,'  shown  the  injuriotianess  of  the  present  orgajiiza- 

rUi  of  our  church  government,  the  meniorialiats  close  by  saying : — 
"So  we  dcmaud  {v^rtangen)  of  your  assembly, — 
"1.  Vinilit'iition  of  the  chief  truths  of  the  Gospel,  and,  as  a  means  to 
thftt  end,  vindication  of  the  furmiilaa  of  conivm-daiice  in  everything  concern- 
ing tho  truii  nature  and  essence  {hfit  wrsfu  eu  da  hoffdzaak)  of  the  reformed 
dftctririLi,  accorfling  to  the  spirit  of  the  compoaera  of  those  formylaa,  and  of 
the  Nutberlands  Reformed  Cli[ur.(!h. 

t"2.  Public  disapproval  of  what  in  the  preaching  or  school  toafihing  is 
ntradictorj-  to  the  above-mentioned  truths,  and  cspeciftUy  a  declaration 
that  the   doctrine  which,  taught  by  three   professors  of  divinity  in  the 

*  <*  D(?  nioatiegdileii  legeq  de  A-Tgewlieidene-Q  aau  bet  StoatBrejft  gtrtoeCet."    The  third 

edition  was  pniileil  as  early  na  1S37. 
h    -f  In  Sut^-h, — "  Adrci  aaa  de  Algeiucenb  SynoJe  dor  Neilcrlimdscliit  Uerroontdo  Cerk 
<  Orer  de  fonDuUcraii)  de  akadeniiBcbe  apluldiflg  A&t  pitdiJctmlcDj  en  het  ooderwys."      It 

utntaim  fltty-one  octavo  pagM  in  print. 


k 


470 


Tiu  Contcviporary  Review. 


P 


pericNlicrtl,  Truth,  in  Locp,  militntes  a^inet  the  CoafeBsion  of  the  Reformed 
L'hureb,  imJ  ugainst  the  eaving  doctrine  ol"  the  Holy  Scrijiture. 

"  3.  Protest  against  the  tixisting  re^ulatioos  on  the  school  teaching,  as 
incajiablt!  of  Lciny  Ljirmonizt'il  witli  a  Christian  educntion  in  accortlnnc'e  irith 
the  (Ifwtrine  of  the  NotlierJiiniis  Reformed  Church. 

"  4.  ProvLei<iDnl  {uaiumiih'fijlr)  reinsioini  of  the  church  ivgulations  for  the 
rtiflintciiaiiee  t>f  Cliiiatian  churcli  discipline  in  doctnnc  and  conduct,  and 
preparation  foi-  tins  eJ5tnl>li8hhi};  oi  u  s)Tiod  to  repwat-nt  tho  Chufuli  by 
(a)  allowing  a  larger  ephcre-  of  operation  and  influence  to  the  pnsby- 
terial  asseniWiea  ;  (6)  by  int^Teasiii;^'  thy  mnnbtr  of  the  mfrnihets  of  the 
a^tiod  who,  if  not  provided  wth  cri.idpivtiiib,  at  least  ought  tn  ln^  luaiiw 
reapouiiihle  in  virtue  of  their  ohligatiim  to  maintain  the  reformed  d<>ctrin«  ; 
('■)  by  increasing  the  nuniK^r  of  the  nicmhers  of  the  provincial  synods,  to 
w-liom  the  L'jcfaiduaticni  of  the  future  minietera  ia  enttii?led  ;  {d)  by  rvstoring 
the  govcrnnietit  of  each  special  chnrch  in  its  rights — hy  restoring,  eepwi- 
ally,  the  imfKirtjint  office  of  the  eklera,  ttCCunJing  to  God's  woiil,  no  that  iJso 
a  greatef  humher  of  them  be  sent  to  the  VnrioliB  c*ccWsiiistical  courts." 

Tlie  sftiue  gentlemen,  in  January,  1843,  adilressed  an  appeal  to  the 
Church,  ill  which  they  ahly  defended  the  motives  that  had  influenceil 
tlieni,  Tliis  pamphlet,  eatitled,  "To  the  Reformed  Churcli  in  the 
K^tliorlfliids,""  containa  104  octavo  pages. 

These  two  addresses  jn-oduced  a  deep  hnpression  upoa  the  niiuds 
cif  the  people,  hut  had  no  effect  with  the  sj-nod.  Its  reply  tr>  the 
first  left  iniittcis  unaltered.  Meanwhile  societies  weie  formed  at 
viirious  places  througliout  the  country,  "for  mamtaiiiing  find  do- 
fending  the  doctrine  and  the  riffhts  of  the  Netherlands  KcformeJ 
Chitrcli."  One  of  these  societies,  that  at  Amstenlam,  joined  by  those 
of  Ilotterdam  and  the  Hague;  addressed,  in  Jflnuary,  lSo4.  a  memoriul 
to  the  King,  "concerning  tlie  relation  of  the  Netherlandg  Reforroeil 
Church  to  the  theological  faculties  at  tlie  universities.**  !N'«iw  that 
every  attempt  vrith  the  synod  had  proved  fruitless,  it  was  lio|^>ed  tlmt 
something  might  be  effected  by  moving  the  King,— Ist,  exclusively  to 
provitle  the  universities  with  "  men  who  have  given  ei-idence  that^  in 
addition  to  the  cither  requisites,  they  ore  sincerely  and  witlwrnt  douht 
well  affected  to  the  Confession ;"  and,  2ndly,  to  cancel  the  1 1  'ith  article 
nf  the  Royal  Resolution  of  1S15,  by  which  "it  is  made  obligator}*  i» 
the  Netherland-s  Reforiaed  Church  to  Ciill  un  other  ministers  than  sucli 
as  are  taught  and  trained  at  the  imiveraities."  The  mcmorialista,  in 
their  very  cutting  and  masterly  address,  pointed  out  that  the  Romanists, 
Lutherans,  Mennonites,  Arniioians,  and  Jews,  though  State-paid  as 
well  a9  the  Keformed  Church,  were  yet  at  liberty  to  elect  their  ministers 
from  their  o-^vn  seminaries,  whereas  the  cliief  church  in  the  countiy 
was  compelled  to  see  its  youth  taught  by  men  not  under  its  own 

•  The  lille  is  nut,  "To  tho  Kuformed  Ktrk,"  but  "To  the  Refprmed  tfcmwnff,"— lie 
loItiT  cipreaaion,  I  may  repent,  denoting  the  wholo  of  the  inemirr'  of  the  Churdj  in  (bar 
f\it«-h'  ChrislL-in,  not  in  Ihuir  cccleciasticiU  chantcter,  im  a  body  in  iLt  tilnfe.  Tlui  sv^gnd 
dgcoment  is  nndoubti-dl^  a  still  stronger  prottut  agaiiut  the  sj-nod  than  tbe  firvt. 


Tlu  Frtesi  Church  m  CkHsiendam. 


471 


iL  All  in  vain.  The  royal  answer,  if  answer  it  could  lie  Ciilled, 
no  hope  of  redress ;  and  up  to  the  present  moment  matters 
wntimie  the  same  ils  they  were, 

A  series  tif  aildresses,  which  from  year  to  year  have  been  sent  up  to 
be  synod,  have  met  with  the  same  result,  till  at  length  that  couit^  as 
ins  Ijeen  stated  alrefidy,  frankly  cteelared  in  18(55  that  it  was  l»eyond 
ts  power  to  rejiair  the  confused  state  of  tilings. 

Contemporary  with  these  public  operations  were  private  meetings 
►f  various  sranller  or  larger  sucietie-s  of  friends  of  the  Church  Confes- 
Qon  (witli  whom  many  oithodox  dissenter*  greatly  ,?yiupatliized),  for 
be  purpose  of  strengthening  each  other  in  their  faith,  and  of  praying 
er  for  the  restoration  of  the  Church  tti  its  nri^nal  purity.  Buch 
the  meetings  of  tlie  "  Christian  friends  "  who  used  to  assemble 

Anisterdaiii  from  184S  to  1854 ;  and  the  meetings  of  the  society  tif 

ergymeu  called  "  Earnestness  and  Peace,"  which  ceaaed  to  oxist  in 
S5S.  Snch  organ izntinng  are  still  scattered  through  the  country,  and 
heir  effect  is  important  and  poweiful  in  certain  respecta. 

A  society,  the  ojjerations  of  which  fall  more  apecially  under  our 
>hservation  than  thnse  above  mentioned,  wits  formetl  two  years  ago 
1864)  at  Utrecht.  It  is  called  "  The  Confessional  Society  of  Ministera 
md  Members  of  the  Netherlands  lJ!eformed  Church."  It.  is  composed 
if  I'roiii  seventy  to  ctL^hty  clei^'iuen,*  and  about  as^  many  elders  of 
tiriona  churches,  united  on  tlie  basis  of  the  Church  Confession.  It 
jccujiies  a  much  more  conspicuous  standing-ground  than  ]m.s  hitherto 
leen  occnpied  Ijy  nuy  section  of  the  orthodox  clergy.  In  the  fifth 
Irticle  of  its  statutes  it  refuses  to  carry  its  submission  to  the  chiu'ch 
le^ilalions  so  fur  as  to  give  up  its  convictions,  and  affirms  thnt  it 
tees  not  feel  at  liberty,  from  respect  for  those  regulations,  to  acknow- 
edge  as  ministers  of  God  those  who  reject  the  apostolic  testimony 
Jtnut  Christ.  In  the  sbctli  article  it  promises  assistince  to  eveiy 
iliurch  wbicli  in  a  pure  spirit  resists  the  prevailing  inlidelity,  by  pro- 
riding  it  with  the  iidministration  of  Baptism  and  the  Lord's  Supi>er. 
n  its  seventh  article  it  dcchu-os  that  it  dues  not  feel  jui^tified  in 
SMTying  its  respect  ibr  the  order  in  the  Cliurch,  or  for  official 
luthority,  au  far  as  to  abstain  from  preaching  the  Gospel  to  churches 
rhose  pidpits  are  occupied  by  sucOi  as  attack  the  Gospel.  This 
means  that  tlie  clerical  members  of  this  society  will  no  longer  hesi- 
ate  to  preach  and  adininist-er  the  sacranienta  in  private  houses  or 
[rtber  jilaces,  in  those  parishes  where  the  clergy  are  rational istic.  Nor 
s  thery  any  power  to  prevent  them  carrying  into  practice  thia  latter 
U^icle,  for  the  regulations  of  the  Church  conta,Ln  no  article  which 
brbids  it.  The  society  being  yet  in  its  infancy,  little  has  be&n  done 
D  a  practical  way,  but  a  committee  is  preparing  schemes  which  are 

•  The  EMnibti  of  clcrgymm  is  the  Seformod  Cbnrch  smo-jat*  to  from  1,500  to  l^SSl). 


472  Tlie  Contcmponxry  Review. 

to  be  laid  before  tlie  next  spring  meeting.  Among  these  scbemes  are 
auch  as  the  training  and  sending  out  of  evangelists  and  itinerant 
ministers  ;  the  training  and  suppnrt.Lng  of  pious  and  able  young  mc-u 
who  are  prepai'ing  for  the  holy  miidstiy ;  tlie  appointing  of  private 
teachers  in  tlie  imivaraity  towns^  thus  to  enable  the  students  to 
obtain  an  antidote  to  the  poisonous  teachings  of  the  iulidel  professora. 
What  the  result  of  these  movements  may  bu,  time  will  reveal 
Meanwhile  this  much  is  certain,  that  the  confusion  has  reached  a 
crisis.  The  IFcdminsler  Hev^iew,  while  praisijig  onr  Church  as  the 
&eeat  Cbiii'ch  in  Christendom,  at  the  same  time  passes  an  almost 
boundless  eucominm  upon  Pr.  2aalbe%',  one  of  tOie  clei^men  of  our 
Church  at  the  Hague.  He  is  described  as  denying  "the  visible  ascen- 
sion, the  corpiireal  resurrection,  the  miraculous  conception  of  Jesus," 
&c.  A  "translation  of  Br.  Zaalbcrg's  Senuous  into  English  "  is  also 
highly  recommended,  as  being  sure  to  i-ender  the  "  greatest  servj«j 
possible  to  yomig  ministers  of  relJj;rion.  and  in^uifiog  students  of 
theology"  (Wesinunsfci'  £a>icu',  July,  1865,  p.  226),  But  what  will 
the  Wfst-ininsttr  Ileviav  say  about  the  highly  praised  liberty  of  our 
Church  when  it  learns  that  its  much  admired  friend,  after  having  told 
his  flock  in  the  morning  that  the  Kesnrrection  is  a  fable,  is  yet  rom- 
pdled  to  (inffer  liia  colleague  (say  IVIr.  Gunning)  to  tell  that  same  flock 
in  the  evening  that,  but  for  believing  in  the  so-called  fable,  they  will 
be  lost  for  ever  ?  Or  what  will  the  WcsiminsUr  Hcvim  say  when  it 
is  told  tliat  Dr.  Zaall)eig,  aft^^r  linving  given  the  children,  at  the  cate- 
chising, to  understand  tliat  a  man  whu  believes  iu  miraeles  must  be 
a  fool,  !i  i'anotic,  or  a  blockhead,  is  yet  comjif.fkd  to  permit  such  sup- 
posed fool,  fanatic,  or  blockhead  to  tell  the  children  that  nnracles  are 
works  of  God  ?  Sui'ely  tliat  is  a  strange  kind  of  liberty  which  permits 
a  man  to  ni)root  the  seeil  M'hich  his  feUow-labonrer  stj  zealously 
sowed  a  few  hours  befoi'e!  Wlmt,  under  such  circumstances,  must 
become  of  the  ruapeet  of  the  people  for  their  rulera, — what  of  confi- 
dence, what  of  edification,  what  of  jieace,  what  of  love  ?  Nay,  whnl 
must  become  of  the  religion,  of  the  moi-ality,  of  the  Christian  characUr 
of  a  nation  wliich  ia  compelled  to  see  things  most  holy  and  precioiia 
thus  publicly  and  scornlully  dragged  through  the  mii'e,  nnd  that,  ton, 
in  the  very  buildings  which  were  destined  for  the  reverential  prnclfl- 
mation  of  those  holy  things,  and  by  tlie  very  preachers  who  were 
appointed  to  place  them,  in  nil  their  preciouaneas,  before  the  minds 
of  their  hearers  i 


THE  MODERX   THEOBIES   CONCERNING 
THE    LIFE    OF    JESUS 

COXSIDEEIED   AS  THE   CRISIS  Of  THE  GEBMAS  CaiTlCAL   SYSTEM. 


STRAirS^S'S  "  Life  of  Jesus."  first  pulilisliui  in  1S35  ami  1836,  M-as 
auaweretl  in  so  Jiiuiiy  excellent  works  by  UUiuuiiii,  Hast!,  Iloli- 
inauii,  Tlioluck,  Neaiailer,  Lau^,  liij^rgeiibacli,  Biiuiiiirmteri,  and  c»tlier 
K  Gentiau  theologians,  that  the  vietory  ol'  tlie  Chmtiaii  cause  lui-^iht 
H  htivc  been  cousidered  decisive,     liiuidred^,  nay,  tliousands  oi'  jjulijjts 
Hill  Geniiany  resounded  ■with  the  jireachiuj;  of  (.iyd's  word  in  reoovated 
jMjwer,     German  theylojiVj  no  Ituij,'  devoted  U>  a  ]iiii-tia],  cuiittfiuphitlve 

» tendency,  now  tgot  an  intareat  in  home  and  foreign  missions,  became 
zenloua  to  relieve  the  spiritual  wants  of  the  neglected  people ;  in  a 
word,  it  apsiimed  an  ethical  clumLCter.  It  was,  it  is  tnw,  unable  to 
si^lve  all  thii  difticulties  which  mny  Ik;  found  in  tiie  Gospel  histories^ 

■  or  to  rceoucile  all  apparent  discrepijucie^.  Yet  the  return  to  the  prin- 
ciples oi'  the  llefnniiatioa — espetdally  to  Lutlier  hiiiiaeH" — initiated  by 
Sc-hleiemiaclieiv  and  since  hecorninj^  nioits  and  laure  eonapicuovis,  had 

■afforded  it  a  vftntaf,fe-grouudj  which  nri  lon^'er  rendered  thu  theory  uf 
the  insjiiration  of  Holy  ScHpture,  as  tau^^'lit  in  the  Alexandriiiu  and 
^{.■htjliLatiti  scIkxiIs,  im   indi3]ieiif5alile  Ibuudatiuu  of  t-'hfi.stfiin  truth. 

■From  this  gnnind  it  could  proceed  to  treat  of  the  Gospel  histories, 
tiot  ill  a  (Itiginatic,  but  iu  a  really  historical  manner, — not  only  with- 
out injury  to  tlie  fulness  of  the  Christian  faith,  but  greatly  to  its 

■  edvantaj^e.  By  adhering  to  those  principles,  it  no  longer  needed  the 
ingejiuity  nf  the  old  harniouizers.     Notwithstanding;  the  problems 

VOL.  I.  2  1 


474  ^''"-'  Contemporary  Rez'igw. 

^vllicb  wei-e  as  yet  imaolvetl,  it  mii,'Iit  rest  satisfied,  seeing  that  he 
"who  really  knows  "wljat  lie  possesses  in  the  Christian  faitli,  likewise 
knows  with  what  he  ctin  ilispense  in  UoWiuj^f  it,  because  lie  f-nn  dis- 
tinguish hetween  tliat  whii'h  is  neoeaajiry  I'ur  the  Chi'istian  life  and 
that  wliicli  is  not.  Tliis  renovated  theology  was,  howevcTj  iu  maiiy 
respects  still  deficient  in  distinctness  with  respect  to  doetrines  luiil 
notions  (c.//,,  those  concteruing  God,  the  Holy  Truiity,  the  persun  «!' 
Christy  insjiiratiou) ;  yet  it  was  in  the  right  way  towards  it,  by  medi- 
tation on  the  Holy  Scrii<tin'es  (as  is  jirovud  hy  it  number  of  excellent 
conuuentaries),  and  by  the  study  of  the  liistoriail  work  of  the  Church 
in  the  formatiun  of  her  doctrines,  But  Ilatiumdisni  did  not  immedi- 
ately recede  iVoin  the  jiositions  nhich  it  had  occupier!  formerly  iu 
Gennany — quite  the  uuiitiury  :  whereas  I'nrnierly  the  ndheients  y>i  the 
more  recent  philosoplucal  systems  Itad  looketl  clown  with  contemj't  ou 
their  predecessors — c.f/.,  the  Hegelians  on  thy  fnlhiwei'a  of  Kant,  the 
Ksthetic  ratioDfdistS  on  the  disciples  of  Wolfs  popular  pliilosophyj — 
now,  individuals  nf  the  tnoat  different  negative  te-udenci&s  united 
together  into  a  suciety  of  TJcht  fmnule  (friends  of  li|j;ht),  for  the  pur- 
pose of  resisting  the  incTeasiiig  power  of  the  rLliirniattve  or  positive 
tendency,  which  was  already  making  itself  felt  wiihin  the  Church, 
and,  aceordinfr  to  their  view,  to  guard  tlie  interesta  of  Protestant 
liberty.  Tiieir  eoalition,  ajfain,  caused  an  iufliientia!  ]iarty  of  the  wi- 
calledjjo-si'/('j,*L' theologians  to  advise,  and  eveu  to  urge,  certain  mejisxires 
of  resistance;  u^rnhist  them,  which  luanil'cated  more  confidenee  iu  tho 
power  of  the  State,  and  in  the  legal  applicatiuna  of  confessions  of  fidtb, 
and  conscrjuently  in  deprivations  and  intimidation,  tliiin  in  the  simjad 
of  faithiul  persuasion,  and  accordiu^^ly  made  it  their  task  to  put 
down  tliL'ir  opjjonents  in  this  their  own  way. 

This  ditfereuce  concerning  the  ]jTO]M!r  method  of  maintainiiu;  and 
Sjiruadiuy  the  faith  of  the  Church,  produced  a  ilivision  also  Imtwecii 
those  who  had  hitherto  contended  against  llationaUsm  as  a  uinteil 
body.  It  WII3  hntli  natund  and  neoeasary — and  alsii  in  conformity 
with  Schleiermauher's  fimdamental  tendency — that  reaidmated  per- 
sona] Christiaii  piety  should  ouce  more  seek  ecclesiastical  forms; 
and  the  general  synod  of  Pm.ssia  of  tlie  year  1840,  called  toge- 
ther by  the  enlightened  minister  Eichhoni,  endeiivuured  to  hud 
the  proper  medium,  by  taking  into  considemtion  both  the  rights  of 
i'rotestaut  liberty,  and  also  the  duties  which  result  fnmi  the  ucces- 
eary  conditions  of  Church  coinmuninu,  and  frmu  the  unchangealile 
principles  of  the  liefui-mation  to  maintain  the  Church  iu  a  course  wf 
trauquU,  interaal,  eoustaut  development,  and  of  monif  coutjuests  over 
her  adversaries,  without  exposing  her  to  the  wild  floods  of  capri«)0 
leading  to  anarchy.  In  this  spirit,  aud  with  these  views,  the  syiio<i 
drew  up  the  celebrated  "  formulary  of  ordination,"  *  and  connected  with 

■  "  Onlinationa-forraulor." 


Modern  Theories  concerning  i/ie  Life  of  yesus.      475 

thia  the  "doctrinal  ordinance,"*  both  of  which  were  acceded  to  by  its 
members — with  the  exception  of  an  insignificant  minority — after  long 
and  searching  discussions.  But  the  King,  Frederick  William  IV., 
withheld  his  sanction  from  these  resolutions,  by  which  alone  the 
Church  could  apparently  have  been  delivered  from  anarchy,  and  from 
swaying  backwards  and  forwards  into  opposite  extremes,  and  be 
maintained  in  the  healthy,  orderly  course  of  internal  development, 
without  violence,  and  without  relapsing  into  a  false  legalism.  It 
appears  that  he  w^as  intimidated  by  the  above-mentioned  party,  con- 
sisting of  legal  theologians  and  theological  jurists,  who  expected 
safety  and  the  restoration  of  order  from  the  restoration  of  the  legal 
application  of  the  already  established  confessions  of  faith  :  they  con- 
sidered a  determination  of  the  Church  that — and  to  what  extent — an 
affirmative  position  was  required  on  the  part  of  the  clergy  to  the 
substance  of  the  confessions,  to  be  insufficient,  and  rather  claimed  an 
obligatory  power  for  those  confessions  in  tlieir  totality ;  while,  liow- 
ever,  they  certainly  held  out  a  prospect  of  indulgent  treatment  in  any 
cases  which  might  actually  occur. 

But  a  very  unwelcome  impediment  to  the  realization  of  this  project 
was  fotmd  in  the  union  •}•  which  had  been  carried  out  in  many  parts 
of  Germany  (in  Prussia  in  1817).  The  adherents  to  this  project  had 
formerly  acceded  to  the  union,  and  it  was  likewise  manifest  that  the 
agreement  existing  between  the  Calvinist  and  Lutheran  confessions 
of  faith  was  sufficiently  obvious,  not  only  to  professed  theologians, 
but  even  to  simple  I'rotestant  minds,  to  prevent  all  unevangelical 
deviations  by  adhering  to  the  main  purport  of  the  creeds  of  the  two 
churches. "  But  those  who  looked  upon  the  creeds  as  a  code  of  laws, 
now  saw  in  the  union  itself  a  fatal  danger  to  the  authority  of  the 
creeds  in  general  and  in  their  full  extent,  because  by  tlie  union  a 
portion  of  the  creeds,  separated  from  the  rest,  had  lost  its  obligatory 
force  within  the  National  Church,  and  yet  had  never  been  defined  by 
any  law ; — namely,  that  portion  in  which  the  creeds  of  the  two  churches 
contradicted  each  other.  They  dreaded  the  peril  to  which  the  whole 
would  be  exposed  as  a  consequence  of  infringing  on  the  authority  of 
a  part.  Thus  from  a  dread  of  tlie  distinction  between  essential  and 
non-essential  doctrines — which,  however,  is  one  of  the  principles  of 
the  Eefoimation — they  became  the  enemies  of  the  union  which 
formerly  they  had  defended,  and  endeavoured  to  dissolve  it.  To 
justify  this  conduct,  they  alleged  the  necessity  of  an  "ecclesiastical" 
Christianity  in  contradistinction  to  a  merely  "  personal  "  one,  and  that 
Buch  a  Christianity  must  necessarily  be  connected  with  the  formu- 
laries of  the  Lutheran  and  Calvinist  ecclesiastical  systems,  liistorically 

■  "  Lehrorduung." 

t  Xamely,  batweon  tlio  Luthonm  and  Calvinist  bodies. — Ti'tiiia!atoi-'i  Kote. 


4;6  The  Contemporary  Review. 

handed  ilu\ra  fi'oni  the  times  of  uur  anresLois.  lu  pursuance  of  lliis, 
tlipy  tint  left  viai  red  to  reintroJufe  nucieiit  forma  and  iisage'5  of  the 
Cliiirch  into  almost  nl!  tln5  countries  of  Germany — especially  into 
tlioae  of  the  nortli;  iimt  wliilc  tloing  so,  tliL'v  iiaed  so  little  -caiitinn, 
tlmt  tliL'V  iliil  not  even  fear  to  trespass  upon  tliu  grounds  of  Kom-tUiLjUi, 
talviiiy  "  the  Clmrch  "  iustead  of  "  saving  ftiilL  "  *  as  their  foundation, 
— directly  against  the  Augsburg  Confession ;  nay,  substituting  tUt 
sacraments  for  justiiication  by  faitli,  and  attributing  to  the  clergy  !i 
3ai:erdotal  character  in  tlie  poiver  of  the  keys,  cotifessjiju,  Etl'solndou, 
cluu'ch  government ;  in  short,  they  sought  to  trfiii$fmTu  the  laudable 
design  uf  au  iutenial  and  external  reform  of  the  CUurth  into  a  resto- 
ration  of  the  deplotable  condition  of  the  seveutueuth  ceutiiiy;  nay, 
partly  into  a  ret;tictfltion  of  the  Refonuatiou  itself  This  pliase  of  tlm 
development  of  the  Protestant  Church  in  Germany,  therefore,  forms  u 
point  of  contact  ii-ith  the  rise  of  English  Puseyisra  some  twenty-five 
years  subsequently. 

On  the  rise  and  progress  of  this  movement  in  Germany,  the  pro- 
ceedings of  the  so-called  "  Critictd  school"  had,  however,  no  sliglit 
influence.  The  principal  seat  of  this  school  was  the  University  of 
Tubingen,  vhere  .Strauss,  iu  1835,  opposed  his  mythical  theory,  botli 
to  the  autlior  of  the  "  Wolfeubiittel  Fnignients,"  who  viewed  Christ 
iLnd  Ilia  apostles  merely  as  deceivei's,  and  to  tlmt  imtural  ex]dfim- 
tion  of  mimclea  promulgated  by  Eicldiorn,  and  especially  by  Paulus  nt 
Heidelliei'g:  the  former  theory  be  treated  as  conrae,  and  incapnble  i^f 
coinprelicndiug  the  charucteristics  of  the  religious  ujind ;  the  latter  ii5 
unnatuml  and  insipid;  and  accoi\]ing]y  he  rejected  both.  As  fiir 
..Sjiaij.'^s  liimseJf,  opposed  as  were  his  tlot^trinnl  views  to  the  SHjpcr- 
uatnnd,  he  songlit  what  he  considered  a  more  natural  ami  at  t!w 
.same  time  a  less  offensive  explanation  of  the  miraculous  features  tu 
he  fnmid  iu  the  remrds  of  the  life  of  Jesus,  by  assnniing  that  llie 
rdigioua  mind  of  the  primitive  Church  had  unintentionally  and  im- 
designedly  glorified  Christj  and  that  those  records  of  mii-aenlous  actifttis 
and  events  were  thus  productions  of  undesignctl  inventive  trodilion, 
which,  like  floral  ornaments,  became  intert\\-ined  round  the  image  uf 
Jesus,  in  process  of  time  applying  to  Him  the  prevalent  Messianic 
idea,  and  using  the  bil>lit;id  representations  of  Mosus,  Klijab,  &c.,  as  a 
sUnehuuse,  from  which  the  vaiious  miraculous  traits  wen>  derived  anil 
transfen-ed  to  Christ.  But  then,  as  he  likewise  considered  that  the 
apostles  honestly  believed  the  luessage  which  they  proclaimed,  atul 
for  which  they  suffered, ^ — 'aud  as  tliey  must  have  known,  iu  Ibeir 
charactijr  of  eye-witnesaea,  that  those  impossible  acts  did  not  really 
take  pUce,  he  was  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  assuniiog  d  i^riari,  anii 
without  assigning  any  ivasous,  (hat  our  Cospels  cannot  he  ascHljed  to 
•  "  Fides  »alviflcfl."     ["■  Aug ualtuni,"  rii.,  viitj 


Modem  Theories  concerning  the  Life  of  ycsiis,      j\.yy 

eye-witnesses,  but  must  have  a  much  Ititer  origin.  According  to  liim, 
tliey  can  only  belong  tn  a  time  sufficiently  remote  to  mnke  it  possible 
that  myths  coiUil  have  been  formed,  independently  of  apostolical 
influence. 

Certain])'  this  nij-tliical  hypothesis  left  verj-  much  unexplained  ;  it 
rlid  not  give  any  satis fiitstory  J^lS^v■eT  to  the  question  -n-liy  it  was  that 
iliis  iiuiuerous  collectiun  of  traditions,  or  the  transfer  of  IMesaianic 
ftttrilmtes,  was  conferi'ed  on  the  pei'son  of  Jesus ;  it  left  in  obsrurity — 
and  that  perhaps  intentionally — ichut  Jesus  actually  was;  and  while 
putting  ill  motion  the  iianginattve  faciJty  of  the  primitive  Churuh^  it 
iittenipted  no  account  of  the  origin  of  this  Cliurch :  Itistly,  it  left  the 
^essential  character  of  the  Church — the  consciousness  of  man  reconciled 

r'th  Ood^ — uuesplained. 
But  nevertheless,  this  work  of  Strauss  produced  an  extensive  and 
startling  impti'ssion,  most  of  all  on  thoBe  who  lutd  been  hitherto  ac- 
custoujtid  to  view  the  cauae  of  the  Christian  religion  as  wholly  and 
exclusively  fnunded  on  the  foi'mal  principle  of  the  Reformation,  viz., 
the  inspiratinn  and  divine  authority  of  the  Scriptures.  The  many 
unsolved  dilhi;ultie9,  the  restlessness  cif  critical  investigations,  and 
the  uncertainty  of  their  results,  now  excited  doubts  in  some  of  theni, 
wht'tlier  that  formal  principle  of  the  Reformation,  by  itself  alone,  was 
capable  of  supporting  the  entire  edifice  of  Cliiistianity,  as  the  ad- 
hewuts  of  biblical  superaaturalism  in  Gennany  and  Great  Britain  had 
so  loug  suppowd,  inasmuch  as,  fi-oni  the  standpoint  of  tliis  super- 
naturalism,  faith  niu,st  be  kept  in  suapeuse  so  long  as  there  is  any 
nncei-tainty  in  the  proof  of  the  inspiration  of  the  canon  of  Scripture, 
a  proof  which  apparently  can  never  be  satisfactorily  established  as 
lou;5  OS  biblical  critieisui  has  the  right  of  investij^'atton. 

No'w  those  who  had  overstep])ed  the  linuts  of  this  biblical  super- 
natuniliam  in  unler  to  take  their  stand — not  pai'tly,  but  -wholly — on 
the  foumiatiou  of  the  Kefornnition,  and  of  the  word  of  tlod,  were 
enabled  to  pass  uninjured  through  thiis  ciisis.  They  acknowledged 
not  only  an  objective  external  testhnony  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  hut- 
ao  internal  witness  of  the  Hnly  Ghost  j  tliat  is,  the  poM'er  of  the 
saviiiy  word  of  God  in  the  Scriptures,  or  Christian  tnitli  attesting 
itself  by  means  of  it^  own  force  on  the  soid  of  the  beUever,  and 
revealing  its  internal  evidence  to  him,  They  therefore  needed  not  to 
put  tlielr  faith  in  abeyance  until  the  investigations  of  criticism  should 
be  completed,  but,  being  convmecd  in  their  tuinds  (?f  the  everlasting 
inteftiftl  truth  of  the  Gospel,  and  of  the  salvation  which  it  ileclnxes, 
they  could  contemplate  those  critical  investigations  with  uoufidcnee 
and  tranquillity.  Nay,  they  might  even  co-operate  in  the  work,  particu- 
larly as  they  wci-e  confident  that  it  woidd  he  impossible  for  friticism 
to  affect  the  canon  in  general  injuriously,  not  merely  because  they 


47S  The  Contemporary  Reincu). 

believed  that  Gad,  wli«  is  tlie  author  of  th«  CluistiMi  rwU^'ion,  ]u» 
alsti  i»ifjvidetl  whatei.'er  is  ror^uisite  to  projhftf,mte  it  in  il^  parity,  but 
nisi)  becatise  liistotit-'ftl  critieism  itaelf,  accoitling  to  ila  own  nature,  is 
lioiuiil  by  certain  laws,  tlufiurfh  the  infringemeiit  of  widcTi  it  miist 
become  baseless  cnrijectiire,  n.iid  therePort:  insignificnnt  and  hnnitles?. 
But  nuiorg  these  laws  tlitiTG  is  (^^peciiiDy  this  one,  that  (in  historical 
allegation  conceminj^  tlie  iigc  and  autliui'siup  of  a  work  inu^t  he  met 
with  hiM-oricul  arguments,  that  is,  by  means  of  historical  sources,  so 
that  even  tlie  most  incisive  criticism  of  the  New  Testament  can  new 
rej'ti't  nil  the  biatoricnl  soiu'ces  nf  primitive  Clu-istiiiuity,  bnt  woi;3(t 
luse  its  base  of  opcratiou  if  it  did  nut  hohl  Cast  part  of  thein,  were  it 
nidy  Cnr  tba  pnrpoae  of  provini;  tli«Lr  iiicoiiiiiatibility  with  tlie  rliiiius 
of  credibility  set  np  for  the  otiiers.     But  tiiu  uumerous  a^lherenta  of 
what  is  called  in  Germany  biblical  supenmiumlism,  which  we  niea- 
tioned  just  noWj  who  had  in  the  meanlima  witered  into  the  fak- 
suish'rtii  pjmni\  as  it  wda   dcuoiiiiiiatud,    in  that  uiici^i-taiiity  of  the 
strength  and  sullicieuey  of  the  formal  principle,  or  authoiity  of  tfi« 
Scriptiu'cs  aloiici,  which  had  taken  possession  of  them,  souyhl  iur  helii 
in   a   eourae   different  from  the  legitimate  Piotestant   one,   naaiely, 
that  which  eought  the  renewal  of  a  conscious  union  of  that  famud 
with  the  t'A'«'ntifd  princdplo,  and  which,  in  the  Divine  contidem-e  (if 
faith  by  llie  Ucly  Spirit,  woiUd  huve  remedied  the  deficiency  wlacli 
must  be  ever  inherent  in  historical  certainty,  fontsmucli  as  hiatorioJ 
proofs  tan  never  amount  to  jiiorR  than  gi'eat  probnbdily.     It  was  in 
tiie  authority  of  the    C'hui-eli,  establisiiinj^  tlie  cauon,  fDniiinL;  and 
expounding  doeferinus,  that  tliey  sought  compensation  fiir  ileficieucv  in 
the  autiiority  i^f  the  written  word. 

Thus  Stnuiss  and  the  purtisons  of  the  negative  critical  school  Jul 
not  indeed,  aa  they  supposed,  uproot  the  foundation  of  Cliriatianity. 
but  inipelleil  nmny  forcibly  towards  tlin  Ruiiiau  Cuthnlic  L'liurcli— 
towards  htT  principles  of  ecclusinstiual  iiuthurity  and  of  traditiuu, 
and  thus  also  iuHu'enced  Llie  modem  Protestant  Church  iu  Ounon^y 
in  this  direction.  As  not  a  few  distinjjuisheil  theologians  and  t'liui''!)- 
men  yiehkd  to  this  impiJse,  and  even  Ijcgan  to  apply  it  pi-acti('iiUy 
in  iJie  Church,  ttat  tendency  which  we  have  already  describeil,  flml 
charact^ri^iftl  as  analo^us  to  English  I^useyi^ni,  obtiiiiied  new  finil 
iucrea^d  force;  on  the  othL>r  hiiml,  tht*  regular  devcdoptntnt  tif  llie 
original  principle  of  the  Eet'orm.atiou,  appropriated  to  thfemaelves.  1>)' 
the  utiier  |iarty  in  its  vivifying  infiiience,  was  painfully  iiujiudeil. 

AftiT  the  failure  of  the  attempts  at  political  reform  in  184S,  wbicli 
c^nstitnted  the  legitimate  element  of  the  unfortunate  Te>'olution  '" 
PmBsia  at  that  time,  and  caused  its  extension,  there  nrogo  a  jieriiHl 
of  nieutal  wtjai'ineas,  of  ;^a*neral  reuctiun  against  innovation,  atitl  li 
restoration  of  everything  ancient.      This  tendency  appeaired  to  jire- 


Modern  Theories  concerning  the  Life  of  yesus.      479 

vail  more  and  more  ;  the  dissolution  of  the  Union  seemed  imminent ; 
in  some  localities,  the  freedom  of  university  instruction  was  attacked, 
where  yet  it  had  been  moderate  and  kept  within  due  limits,  as  in 
Gbttingen  and  Kostock ;  and  finally,  in  the  domain  of  the  Church's 
practical  life — in  public  worship,  confession,  the  administration  of 
the  Lord's  Supper,  liturgy,  hynmology,  and  catechism, — no  safety  was 
seen  but  in  the^eintroduction  of  antique  forms.  But  by  interfering 
with  forms  of  worship,  the  followers  of  tliis  party  came  into  conflict 
with  the  Protestant  spirit  of  the  people ;  for,  after  all,  in  their  zeal  for 
restoration,  (hty  likewise,  in  their  own  way,  severed  the  historical 
thread,  a  proceeding  which  also  appeared  revolutionary.  But  the 
sacerdotal  assumptions,  which  formed  part  and  parcel  of  their  theories, 
gave  most  offence  to  the  people.  The  Protestant  laity  long  kept 
silence,  in  the  presence  of  these  proceedings  on  the  part  of  their 
clerical  leaders ;  they  looked  on,  generally  with  murmurs,  often  with 
indignation.  But  when  those  archaic,  nay,  Romanizing  principles 
were  to  be  practically  applied,  by  which  the  laity  would  have  been 
directly  affected,  great  commotions  arose  among  the  people ;  they 
utterly  rejected  such  tendencies,  and  resisted  all  attempts;  and  more 
than  one  ecclesiastical  body  met  with  bitter  disappointment  with 
respect  to  this  object,  which  however  might  have  been  of  some  service 
in  reminding  the  clergy  of  the  source  and  substance  of  the  Protestant 
Church's  true  strength. 

Accordingly,  nothing  durable  resulted  from  those  attempts  at 
restoration ;  they  remained  as  old  pieces  of  cloth  on  a  new  garment. 
Their  impotency  was  soon  felt.  Unfortunately  also,  amid  many  out- 
breaks of  imbelief,  and  as  early  as  1858,  the  culminating  point  of  this 
period  of  restoration  was  overpassed. 

But  it  has  left  behind  it,  even  until  now,  some  sad  consequences. 
On  the  one  hand,  numerous  theologians  and  other  members  of  the 
German  clergy,  among  whom  are  many  zealous,  gifted  men,  having 
been  disappointed  by  the  want  of  success  in  their  attempts  at  restora- 
tion, which  they  considered  to  be  for  the  welfare  of  the  Church,  are 
now  in  a  state  of  irritation  against  public  opinion,  without  the  joy  of 
hope  and  the  inspiriting  courage  to  take  up  tlie  problems  and  pecidiar 
requirements  of  the  people ;  and  not  only  are  they  at  variance  with 
public  opinion,  but  their  own  minds  are  affected  with  uncertainty, 
for  which  their  only  remedy  is  the  expectation  of  the  approaching 
end  of  the  world,  in  accordance  with  certain  escluttologiml  theories  of 
their  own.  It  is  certainly  lamentable  to  be  obliged  to  acknowledge 
that  to  be  absolutely  impossible  and  impracticable  which  is  as  the 
same  time  considered  absolutely  necessary  for  the  welfare  of  mankind. 
But  instead  of  merely  accusing  the  world,  whose  sin  is  supposed  to 
be  the  cause  of  this  impossibility,  and  instead  of  withdrawing  the 


4So 


TIic  Cotitanporary  Rcznew, 


linuil  clesitairin;,'!)"  fitiui  tlie  plough,  it  is  surely  iiinre  approiJiiaUj 
t«  the  hiimlile  Cliristiau  uund  to  exercise  stlf-exiiminiitiun,  oud  to 
scnitinize  Ihoae  thetirics  themselves  whit-h  aro  tluis  cousiilered  abao- 
lutely  iiecessnry  fur  tlie  weU\ire  uf  iiiaiikiinl.  It  lias  gone  aj  far  that, 
ntimng  many  classes  of  the  people,  Cliristiaiiity  has  Tjecouie  uuiwpnlaTi 
ami  mi  ijiteiruption  lias  taken  jilace  in  the  jm>ces3  i>f  wiunlu^  liack 
the  hearts  of  the  natinn  for  thfir  evangelical  Cliuruh,  eveu  among 
tlioiiaaDds  who  had  ajipeateil  Tijje  for  eiitCTiii','^  into  lively  communion 
with  it. 

Several  recent  mnnifestations  owe  their  origin  to  these  discDriiant 
cireiimstauces  :  in  the  clomaiu  of  the  Church,  the  existence  of  the 
Fi^fista at  Unififi;  in  that  of  theologj",  the  luorii  uirjilem  movement 
coiicertiiii^  thf  prrtion  of  Ckrisf,  or,  more  enrrettly,  Ihe  "  lale  of 
Jesus,"  as  represented  by  Reiiau,  Strauss,  Scheiikel,  since  the  yctu 
1860.  The  iTilherents  of  the  I'lntestant  Union  aeenied  at  fii-st  inclined 
to  agitate  in  tUviiur  cif  a  constitution  lor  the  C'hui*ch  on  the  hromlest 
Lasi.?,  and  to  reconcile  tlie  people,  particularly  the  edm:ated  class,  to 
the  Church,  by  advocating,'  an  eccleaiastical  orj^iinization,  which  would 
have  mu  into  the  opposite  extreme  to  tltoae  attemptji  at  sacei'dotal 
reatiiration,  by  establisliing  a  dmujiratic  Church  government.  But 
they  aeciii  to  have  already  ado]ited  more  moderate  views;  their  pre- 
sent desi^'n  is  only  to  prutett  Troteatant  liberty  of  teauhini^.  so  as^  t/.i 
prepare  the  way  for  the  iirinciple  of  "  conpiliatiug-  the  Cliristian  faith 
"witli  the  edncateil  worhL" 

Of  ^'rejitev  iuipnrtance,  howBver,  ia  the  second  movement,  which  ia 
affecting  the  religion  of  tiie  peojile  more  sensibly.  For  all  these  new 
lucubrations  cnni-^ennng  the  life  of  Jeaus  have  this  in  conininn,  ^hfit 
they  appeal  to  the  people  in  diction  and  in  a  stjle  diHei'ent  frLun  the 
tiret  appwirante  of  Strauss  in  1835,  who  gave  his  "Life  of  Jesus"  a 
learned,  theolnj/ical  chai-actur,  Acrajrdiiijrly,  it  was  ijuitc  snitaMe 
that  the  firet  reiplie.?  to  tbeiii  sliovdd  likewise  adopt  a  populai-  style, 
and  unveU — somewhat  after  tlie  manner  of  liichftrd  Beutley — the 
pantlieistic  or  deistical  fouudations  of  these  writings,  and  revtiiil  thei: 
destructive,  degciuhiig  timpeipienccs  in  dcpriWng  mau  nf  his  cbitl' 
strength  (or  UKiral  life,  and  of  his  consolation  in  death.  In  this 
nmnnev  Iftdd  in  lUcslau,  Luthaitlt  in  Iv^'ipzig,  Versmann  in  Holstcin, 
Weydniann  in  Mtiningeu,  rrofessor  SchatT  inMerfersburg,  and  others, 
have  endeavoured  to  sei'Ve  the  people  by  pupidar  lectures  and  tracts. 
But  these  effuits  cannot  he  conaidi-i'ed  a.s  .sufHcieutlj-  exhaustive  of 
the  task  to  he  accomplished.  Tlit  txjiferieuce  u<'(|iiiri'd  by  uvents 
since  1835  haviiiy  proved  that,  howuver  it.  iiii^ht  cuuducc  to  eascr  am! 
comfort  to  QViiid  rhe  problems  raised  liy  Slniuss's  "  Life  of  Jesus"  ami 
the  cnticigm.'i  of  iJaur,  this  coui'so  was  an  inoperative  one;  and  that, 
instead  of  meeting  them  with  theologicnl  labours,  to  inteiposc  in  idle 


I 


I 


Modern  Theories  concerning  the  Life  of  ycstis.      4S1 

security  the  autbority  of  the  Church  is,  on  the  pftrt  of  Protestant 
divines,  merely  "  leaning  on  the  staff  of  a  broken  teed,  wliereon  if  a 
man  lean  it  will  j,'o  into  his  liand  and  pierce  it."  Tlie  present  con- 
dition of  affaira  rcfinires  ihtt  the  wny/un:  formerly  htyiin,  hut  wccr 
hfOiUfid  to  a  satufactitry  conclusion,  &limdd  he  now  carried  on  hi  ijotnl 
tant4s(  find  v^ilh  full  i-iyour,  vithout.  tlw  aid  of  cxtf-nwl  mmns  or 
jyiUiulivrs,  so  as  to  re-estahlJah  iii  the  German  nation  confidence  in 
tlie  credibility  of  their  aacred  Scriptures,  and  thua  also  to  ■win  back 
tlie  [leople  really  for  their  Church  and  their  religion  by  legitimate 
means. 

This  work  is  already  in  course  of  execution,  and  it  ia  a  remnrkable 
fact  tliat  it  M'lts  tiiB  course  whicli  thts  mgatisc  criticism  lia-s  adopted 
since  1835,  tliiit  had  to  point  out  the  suitable  way  to  a  aucceasful 
solution  of  the  problem. 

For  the  t-eii  years  fullowiuj^  the  first  appearance  of  Strausa'a  "  Life 
of  Jtsus"  had  been  particularly  Eruitlul  in  prmlucing  critical  works 
on  the  New  TeRtament  Scriptures  by  Baur  and  Ids  school,  Zeller, 
Schwegler.  R.  Koathn,  Hdgenfeld,  Volkmar,  &e.  liaur's  "  Kritik  des 
Xeuen  Testauients"  seemed  at  firat  si^'ht  simply  to  cnirnbomte 
Stronas's  myUntiisin,  and  to  be  in  aUiance  with  it;  for  if  Strauss  did 
not  wish  to  cast  a  mftral  stain  of  dishonesty  and  deception  on  the 
liistoriwas  of  the  New  Testament,  or  even  ou  Christ  liiniself,  he  surely 
needed— as  waa  observed  above — &  considerable  period  of  time  to 
have  iut-ervened  between  that  in  which  the  apostl&s  acted,  and  that 
of  tilt!  compusitiou  of  our  Gospyl  Idsttprie^,  in  order  that  tiiere  might 
l>c  aufhcient  time  for  the  development  of  mj'ths  in  the  Church.  This 
(i  priori  reqiuremeut  of  Iiis  critical  theory  in  the  "Life  of  Jesus" 
must  have  been  singidarly  favimred  by  Baur's  opinion  that  the  four 
Gosijels  were  only  wTitt-en  after  the  second  destruction  of  Jerusalem 
under  Hadrian  in  13i>,  and  that  the  date  of  all  the  books  of  the  New 
TestamtJiit,  -vvilh  the  exception  of  four  Paidinc  epistles  and  the  Apoca- 
1)7)86,  must  be  referi'ed  U.i  the  end  of  the  first  centiu-y,  or  even  to  a 
mure  recent  period,  But  this  support  was,  however,  only  one  Side 
of  the  rpiestion ;  it  had  also  its  reverse,  which  was  soon  to  be  mani- 
fested. 

For  Baur's  iiKpiiries.  ou  the  other  side,  prepared  a  new  phase  iu  the 
cjitifjue  of  the  "  Lite  of  Jesus,"  wbiuh  must  be  of  advantage  to  the 
cause  of  Christianity,  in  so  far  as  the  (lecisiou  is  theiiiby  BimplLiicd, 
ami  the  whok  subject  must  be  reduced  to  a  distinct  alternative. 

Baur,  the  eeclesi mistical  historian,  dirl  not,  like  Stmmis,  content  him- 
self with  treating  primitive  Christianity  ou  a  mythical  system,  which, 
if  the  nriginal  sources  arc  not  conaidL'red  wortliy  of  credibility,  can 
claim  no  greater  vidtie  than  that  of  a  possible  hj-pothesis,  to  which, 
again,  otiier   hypotheses   might  be  opposed   with   equal  justice   or 


U 


4S2 


Th^  Contemporary  Review. 


injustice,  and  wliichj  without  Iiistoricftl  sources,  should  likewise 
contined  withiu  the  regious  uf  possibilities.  Baur  actu&Uy  advanc 
at  least  ime  stqj  011  hutormd  tpvimd,  mvX  even  this  one  step  must 
have  had  impurtatit  coi-iseiiueiices.  This  is,  however,  scarcely  wil 
retereiice  to  the  person  <if  Jesus.  like  Strauss,  he  keejis  His 
sounlity  i"  the  shaju;  ami  in  his  appTeciation  of  the  Settuoti  nn  ths 
Mount  he  ha.s  nothing;  to  say  about  .leaiia,  but  that,  in  opposition  to 
the  righteouaneas  of  works  of  the  Pliaviaees,  TTe  insisted  on  the  dispo- 
sititju  of  the  heart  and  on  pure  love;  that  in  so  doing  He  in\ited  to 
the  kingdom  of  God,  whiuh  H<j  thuii  idso  upciied.  liut  he  reproaches 
Strauss  with  having  produced  a  n'ilupm  of  the  Oospd  hi&tory  withotit 
a  nniiffiif  of  the  Qospt/s.  He  .siiys  that  liia  tactics  consist.ed  in  con- 
futiug  the  tii'St  three  tjoapela  liy  tliat  of  John,  and  then  tho  latttr  \iy 
the  former,  30  aa  iu  short  to  produee  confusion,  and  that  we  can  no 
longer  tell  to  what  ]Mirticjn  of  the  Gtifipel  history  we  are  to  adln^rc, 
He  also  draws  attention  to  the  kistofictiljad,  that  whatever  lany  have 
been  the  ciruuiustances  of  tlie  lifti  of  Jesus,  this  peeuHar  Nob  Trs- 
tament  titrratvrc,  once  ibr  all,  exists^  and  must  be  explained  hintori- 
cally.  Now  in  undertaking  to  i^dve  this  explauatiou>  liuur  ha<l  to 
renounce  the  idea  of  evolving  an  tt  priori  syateni  out  of  liis  own  mind, 
hut  uuilertiiuk  to  incorjjonxte  the  exi9tin<(  fact — tliese  New  Test;iiuenl 
works — hy  means  of  historical  data^  with  liis  own  reiiresectation  of 
most  ancient  Church  history,  and  to  intoiduce  them  progressivel; 
into  it.  Ju  short,  the  explanation  f.if  the  esistenee  of  those  Scriptures 
inil>osed  on  him.  the  necessity  of  sLttt-uipthi;/  a  delineation  of  that  con- 
dition of  life  and  world  of  ideas  adapted  tu  produce  those  Scrijptures 
as  their  natural  results.  He  waa  eoiiipelled,  in  opposition  to  the 
usual  ecclesiastical  account  of  the  oriyin  of  those  .Scripturi's,  and  of 
the  state  of  the  priuiitive  Church,  to  attempt  an  historical  deliueatiuii 
of  a  diflerent  kind,  ao  aa  to  acccnnit  in  a  natnnd  manner  lor  the  Ciith 
of  the  Ohureh,  together  with  iiG-r  ceutml  point  of  the  exalted,  Diviuo 
appearance  of  Jesus ;  for  he  quite  agi'eed  with  Strauss  in  his  philo- 
auphit^al  or  rather  pantheistic  pi^esuppositious,  f.tj.,  that  inimcles  are 
ixuiKtssible.  But  by  such  a  connected  attempt  to  set  up  a  new  coun- 
terpart to  ecclesiaatical  tradition  as  the  true  history  of  the  ouciirrenci 
a  trial  would  also  be  made  whether  such  on  uttempt  was  feasible, 
whether  it  would  sviJTer  shipwreck  against  its  own  self- contradictious 
and  the  realities  of  history. 

Thy  principal  point  in  this  attempt  of  liaxur's  is  the  following : 
the  otij^inal  apipstles  were  JuthvUtu,  as  is  prove<l,  annmg  others,  by 
Apofjalypse,  wiitten  by  the  apostle  Jolin.     At  lirst  they  would  nut 
admit  Ctentiles  at  all,  and  afterwards  only  on  condition  of  receivi 
circumcision,  and  they  never  pmceeded  beyoiid  Jewish  jJu?-/M.'«/a''4*i 
The  apostle  Paul  first  broke  through  the  Judaizing  stiindpoint, 


«ilU,^j 

.  tliii^^ 


iom     J 
tlie     ] 


Modern  Theories  concerning^  the  Life  of  fesiis.      4S3 

acquired  importanee  by  the  luiiltituJe  of  flentileg  whom  ho  convcrled. 
The  wniseipieuce  was  fi  wide  tliHereuce  hetweeii  liim  ami  the  original 
apostles,  ami  this  ccmteat  and  opposition  have  long  jien'nded  the 
ancient  Church.  But,  on  the  other  hn.iicl,  tlitre  also  existed  an  active 
endeavour  to  re-eatabUah  unity  in  the  primitive  Church,  which  was 
facilitJited  jiunly  liy  the  increased  hostility  nf  this  Jt-wish  people, 
partly  by  their  traj;;ical  destiny,  which  dtjirtved  the  Jiidaizing  Chria- 
tians,  or  "  Petriui,"  nf  theh'  support.  Those  eiideiivoui-s  for  unioa 
hetweeii  tlie  adherents  tit"  Peter  [i.ii(i  thoae  of  I'aii!  went  i>n  untU  about 
the  yeni'  170,  and  their  history  had  its  ililVerent  i>eriodsj  the  residts  of 
those  eudeavoui's  of  coociliatiuu  are  contained  in  the  Epistle  to  the 
Ilelirews  and  the  lesser  Pauline  imes,  iwi  the  one  side ;  in  James,  the 
Epistles  of  I'eter,  and  the  first  three  Gospels,  on  the  other :  further, 
in  the  pastoi-al  epistles,  and  in  the  doctrinal  views  of  Johu.  The 
(iospel  of  the  kttev  ^-^as  the  lajt  of  those  ^VTiting3  wiiich,  under  an 
apostolieal  name,  sought  to  heid.  the  ukl  breaeh  between  the  parties  of 
I'et-er  and  of  Paul ;  and  tlie  result  of  these  proceedings  was  the  forma- 
tion  of  the  aucienl.  Catiioliu  Cliurch. 

We  wUl  not  stay  to  investigate  this  hypotbesb,  maintnined  and  de- 
fended by  \m\\  iv-ith  acuteness  and  erudition.  These  two  points  may 
suffice  ;  finst,  it  dous  tmt  ehow  clearly,  as  he  had  led  ue  to  exfiect,  in 
what  re»i«ct  a  union  between  the  Pft^dinl!  and  Judaizing  spirit  is  to 
l>e  lounJ  in  John's  writings,  especially  as,  according  to  Baur  hiniaell', 
tlie  fourth  Gospel  is  said  to  be  of  a  purely  spiritiwl  character. 
Secondl}",  if  Paul,  as  early  as  the  year  50,  undeuinjjly  held  the  more 
exalted  view  of  the  Diviiiity  of  Christ,  we  cannot  conceive  why  ttds 
view,  idenfical  with  'Inhn'.^  iu  it,s  essence,  ahoiild  not  have  lieeii 
shared  by  the  latter  Hpogtle  at  an  earlier  period  also,  without  inter- 
rupting the  contimiation  of  the  ecclesiastical  development.  Btit 
when  Tiftur  imii^;iuea  that  a  tmthfid  immediate  diaciple  of  Christ, 
BUeh  as  tin!  apostles  must  be  considered,  could  not  have  dmwn  such 
an  exalted  imago  of  the  person  of  -Tesus,  because  it  woidd  be  an  his- 
torical  impossibility,  a  miracle  itself,  but  that  Paul  idone  could  have 
pnjduced  siicli  an  exidted  iniiiye  without  beinj^  untruthful,  because  it 
originateil  in  hini  by  means  of  a  merely  subjective  vision  or  ecstsiay, 
he  did  not  bear  in  mind  with  what  zeal  Paul  inaiata  on  }ii&  Gospel 
(GaL  r.  8),  in  which  Christ  ajipeiire  as  the  central  point,  and  that  It 
could  not  lue  asserted  without  aceuainj;  the  Apostle  of  great  insincerity, 
that  he  who  gave  the  ri^dit  baud  of  fellowship  to  the  other  apnatles, 
declaring  t!ie  identity  of  tlieir  Gospel  witli  his  (Gal.  i.  2^3;  ii,  1,  ci 
w^.),  sliouhl  have  been  induce)!  to  aeknowledge  a  Judaiziny  Gospel. 
wlucli_be  deehn-es  not  to  be  such  to  Iiim,  aiut  to  be  in  friendly  coui' 
luunion  with  those  supposed  Judaizinji;  apostles.  The  gross  hy])ot;risy 
which  this  conduct  woiUd  imply,  considering  as  he  did  the  Judaiziny 


484 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


error  as  subversive  of  the  Gospel,  and  deserviog  an  ajiathema,  "would 
Ije  more  gross  tban  that  which  he  himself  reproved  ia  the  conduct 
t'f  Peter  at  Aiitioch.  It  Avnuld,  rooreover,  he  intonsistent  witlt  the 
iuijige  of  the  great  chai-acttr  <if  the  Apostle,  as  Baur  himself  cannot 
avoid  repreifenting  it,  not  to  mention  that  the  aame  passage  (GaL 
ii.  W.ft  srq)  exprea^es  in  the  clearest  manner  the  Ajxistle's  conviction 
that  Peter  was  not  a  .JudaJzeTj  but  that  he  acted  inconsistently  witb 
his  own  principles  on  that  occaBion,  gi^nng  way  ttj  others ;  and  cer- 
tainly the  apostle  I'aiil,  who  was  acquainted  witli  Peter,  ia  entitled  to 
lie  conaidentd  of  more  antliority  as  to  !ii3  relij^ioua  prineiplea  than  fi 
modem  German  critic. 

If  we  now  siitn  up  what  lias  been  said  of  Baur's  general  proceedings, 
Sf>  far  as  they  differ  from  those  of  Ktrausa,  we  may  briefly  state  the 
matter  tims  :—Baur  fias  siibstiiiticd  for  titc  myth,  or  imdeftiicd  imxjiiiu 
trfidition  of  Stvfivss,  the  notion  qf  fmisdoirs  f?r.«yJ^  mid  (f  pffTTutfafj 
intnition.  In  so  doing,  his  object  was  to  exonerate  the  apostles  from 
tlie  reproach  of  planning  iijitruthfulness  and  of  the  fabricatioit  of 
history,  and  to  impute  :t  to  later  genemtions.  Hut  in  his  deeide^l 
assertion  of  the  uij].ioasibility  uf  miraides,  and  of  tlie  siii^iernatimil 
ajjpem-auce  of  Christ,  aa  well  as  in  liis  general  mode  of  argument,  the 
following  thesis  is  aU'eady  involved :— That  if,  after  all,  the  authorship 
of  the  New  TestameJit  Scriptures  should  liave  to  be  with  certainty 
referred  to  the  apostles,  or  to  those  influence*]  by  them,  no  choice 
would  be  left,  but  either  to  attribute  an  intentiona],  phmnhig  nntnitli- 
fidneas  to  tlie  autliora,  who  must  bave  known  better,- — tlierefore  that 
Christianity^  aa  it  is,  and  has  conquered  the  world,  is  bused  on 
the  deceptifiD  itnd  msincerity  of  the  apostles. — or,  on  the  other  hand, 
as  we  cannot  deny,  and  as  Baur  liiniself  acknowledges,  that  they 
really  believed  wltat  they  taught  and  died  for,  and  should  l>e  re^'arded 
as  having  been  deceived ;  in  whicli  case,  tlie  att-uek  of  the  c."riticftl 
thyoTy  must  eud  in  tui  attack  ori  Him  who  had  deceived  them — uu 
the  Person  of  Christ  himself. 

Tius  is  the  crisis  of  which  we  apoke  above,  and  througlj  which  llio 
coui'sc  cif  uegative  criticism  must  come  to  its  HiiaJ  rcsiJt — U)  a  decisiou 
simplified  and  tkeilitated  tu  the  moral  sense.  And  accordingly  this  is 
witnessed  in  the  recent  works  on  tlie  life  of  Jes<uh  by  Ueuaii  and  by 
Strauss. 

HecognisicfT,  with  just  historical  tact,  the  sophistry  of  tlmt  system 
of  criticism,  aud  the  impossibility  of  bidnging  down  the  New  Testa- 
ment Scriptutea  to  such  a  J-eceiit  time, — rcfemng  the  Gospels  to  about 
the  same  period  as  ecclesiastical  tradition  dues,  even  seeing  in  them 
authentic  relations  by  the  apostles — Heuan  fixes  the  tune  of  those 
relations  so  near  to  the  real  events  that  he  can  only  cairj'  out  Mu 
denial  of  the  miracles  by  asserting  tliat  Cluist  and  hia  apostles  hiwl 


« 


I 


Modem  Theories  conceriiitig  the  Life  of  yesus.       485 


Icombined  iu  proiiucin^  a  delusive  aiipeoranee  uf  miraculnu,?  actions. 
[Furtlier.  with  tlmt  intelligent  jierapicacity  propei'  to  liia  nation,  liu 
IrccogTiised  that  the  origin  of  Christianity  must  be  Jeaua  Christ  him- 
iBHlf,  not  the  cnugregation,  not  tlia  fipostlea  Paul  or  John ;  tlmt,  in 
iortler  to  become  the  founder  of  the  Chiistian  Church,  He  could  not 
'hiive  ]>t;pn  a  mure  monil  teauher,  but  tliat  his  personal,  ovei-powering 
Isiiiritnal  presence,  siiid  his  life,  were  requisite  to  pi-oduce  the  imprps- 
felon  which  is  reflected  in  the  Church ;  and  he  also  acknowledges  that 
iJesus  did  really,  on  certain  nccHsinii-s.  lay  clflini  to  Piviiiity,  althongli 
I  Eenan,  from  his  point  of  vitiw,  only  teyards  thia  eis  the  effect  oi 
^nthusiaara  ftnd  self-exaltation. 

But  Stfauss  likewise — in  liia  new  work  on  the  life  of  Jesiu,  written 
<%t  the  Germnn  people — is  urged  forward  to  the  same  crisis  and  the 
'  same  ominous  alternative.     Now  since,  fis  tlie  sueceasnr  of  Baur,  he 
(has  entered  on  the  steep  downward  path  of  the  ussuniption  of  ft 
[deigning  tendency  with  respect  to  the  scriptures  of  the  New  Ti?sta- 
imesit,  he  especially  wreaks  his  hatred  on  the  fourth  Gospel.     He 
still   indeed  try  to  keep  a  place  for  myths   beside  what  he 
iilera  as  inventions,  hut  tins  is  only  for  the  purpose  of  escaping 
■from  the   consequences   of  hia   former    standpoint  into   a   kind  of 
tclectkism.     The  most  important  point  however,  is  this :  after  lie  had 
been  compelled,  by  the  course  of  tlie   critical  investigations  of  the 
Kew  Testament  litemture,  and  by  Baur'a  pointing  out  the  hnina 
existing  in  his  former  work,  and  the   enigniatiea!  doubt  which  he 
(Occasioned  by  his  silence   concerning   the  historical   personality  of 
[Jesus,  to  tread  on  historical  ground,  at  least  partially,  and  to  acknow- 
ledge some  historical  documents, — 'he  was  diiven  to  an  assumption 
^  which  he  had  unt  expressed — or  perhaps  not  even  thought  of — when 
^he  held  his  purely  mji-hitsal  views.     This  assumption,  adopted  for  the 
I  purjinse  of  avoiding  1lie   acknowledgment   of  the   tnie   majesty  of 
Christ's  Person  as  set  forth  in  the  GospulB,  declares  that  the  jirobable 
icauae  of  the  exalted  but  impossible  representations   of  his  Person, 
such   as  thi-y  are  recorded  in  the  Gospels,  and  are  the  main  topic 
of  the  ('hristityi  religion,  must  be  refen^ed  to  Christ  himself. 

For  the  discourses  of  Jesus  concerning  the  consummation  of  all 
things  occupy  such  an  important  place  in  tlie  primitive  Church,  "nith 
the  apostles  aUf*,  and  are  so  intiniat-ely  intertwined  with  its  essence, 
not  only  among  the  Judaizing  party,  but  also  among  the  Pauline  one, 
tliat.  as  Strauss  confesses,  we  cannot  avoid  referring  the  nsdi'itolony  of 
the  New  Testament — at  least  it.<j  irhamcteristic  trails — to  declarations 
made  by  Jesus  hiniS'elf-  Strauss  profussies  aa  yet  too  much  hi-storical 
tact  to  agree  with  Baur,  who  indeed, being  likewise  inclined  to  cnufess 
the  genuinunei^s  of  the  principal  elements  of  thosi^  discoui-ses  of  Jesus, 
woidd  understand  them  in  a  purely  figurative  sense.  Now  in  those 
tliscoursea  there  13  one  constant  thought,  namely  that  He  should,  in 


L 


^aita 


486 


The  Contemporary  Review, 


person,  take  part  in  the  uDiveTsal  judgioeiit  aud  tlie  consummatk 
all  things.  Connected  with  big  Person  is  that  toan'elloua  change— 
the  brLiif,'iiig  in  nf  the  solemn  state  of  Totnljuticiti ;  accortlint;  to  his 
declarations.  He  is  to  awnken  the  dead,  suiTounded  hj  Lis  aiiyele,  and 
to  hold  the  judgment.  On  this  Strauss  cannot  refrain  from  saying, 
"To  expect  such  things  respecting  Himself  is  not  nierely  enthnsia&iii. 
hut  it"  Jesus  nttei-ed  such  flayings,  there  is  contained  m  them  an 
unwarrantuhle  Beli'-osaltation  in  raising  Himself  above  all  mnnkind  by 
rejireBeiitini;  Himself  as  their  Judge,  f'iii;gettnig  thiit  He  himself  had 
declined  the  e]jithet  of  'good,'  as  applicable  to  Gnd  aloue."  Strauss 
still  has  a  scruple  to  utter  before  the  German  people  the  fiiifd  crnt- 
clusinn  which  wotdd  result  from  this  prupuaition ;  hut  it  is  manifest 
that,  like  lieuou.  by  I'lsjeftijig  (i  'prwrl  the  supernalund  in  the  peisfiu 
of  Jesus  as  an  impossibility,  he  falls  into  a  moral  monstroaity  and 
real  impossibility.  Accuniiu^'  to  Strauss,  "The  same  Je&ua  has 
developed  purely  and  fully  all  that  relates  to  love  to  tJod  and  to  our 
nei|L;libour;"  yet  at  the  vexy  same  time  He  ia  said  to  do  homay:e  not! 
only  to  enthiisiosni  vergiiif,'  on  insanity,  l>ut  to  intolerable  pride.  He 
is  said  to  have  towered  morally  and  reh^iously  over  his  cmiteiu- 
poraries,  and  yet  at  once,  although  a  siuuer,  He  considered  hiniselfj 
without  sin.  and  the  future  judge  of  the  world.  He  is  said  to  havej 
occuified  an  iiii'erior  position— fai'  beueiith  orduiary  uicu^ — notwitb-j 
standmg  his  otherwise  monil  excellency,  by  his  self-exaltJition.  whicl 
showed  Him  to  be  deficient  in  modesty,  humility^  find  knowtedj;e  of 
self  To  eveiy  thiJikiug  ntan,  who  knows  that  self-knowledge  and 
hundlity  fonn  tlie  basis  of  every  strong  moral  and  i-elii^dous  lite,  nay^ 
that  humility  and  the  consciousness  of  sin,  where  -sin  e.\i.^ts,  hecnme 
more  vivid  in  proportion  to  moral  growth, — -all  this,  considered  in  a 
moral  point  of  view,  is  simply  a  logical  contradiction ;  th^  nniuu  of 
StrdiiHs's  predic;ite3  iti  the  one  persionalit)'  of  Jesus  would  indeeil  Imj  a 
miracle,  but  a  fake  outj,  and  hence  impossible. — -.greater  and  more 
unnatiu-nl  tlian  all  the  mhaclea  itx  the  New  Testament,  in  none  of 
which  Strauss  could  point  out  such  a  bai^Glaeed  logical  contrailictioa 
as  in  this  one  of  his  own  devising. 

If  it  has.  hnt  once  become  generally  obvious  that  Christ  must  be 
■considered  as  an  historical  person,  and  the  founder  of  the  Christian 
Cliurch;  that  we  must  recur  to  bis  own  declarations  concerning  Himself 
with  respect  to  at  least  some  of  thc.^  highest  predicates  of  Jesus— that> 
for  instance,  it  ia  included  in  those  declarations  tiiat  He  was  not  B 
sinner,  that  He  had  no  need  td'  redemption  for  Htmself,  but  that  He 
hafl  come  to  redeem  mankind^ — wa  are  once  more,  by  the  pn:ieesa  of 
ciitieismf  braught  into  the  presence  of  Jesus  himself,  and  the  question, 
"What  think  ye  of  Christ?"  ia  reduced  to  the  simple  altenmtive.  Is 
Jesus  M-hat  He  pixjfesses  Himself  to  be — the  Sinless  Cine,  in  wliniii 
dwells  the  office  and  the  power  of  redemption ;  or  is  He,  as  He  can- 


Modem  Tlieories  concerning  the  Life  of  yesus.       487 

Dot  be,  that  monstrous  compound  being,  composed  of  unbounded  self- 
exaltation  and  the  purest  love  to  God  and  man — a  liar  and  a  sacri- 
l^ous  criminal,  who  took  on  himself  to  build  up  a  kingdom  of  God, 
after  having  overturned  the  foundations  of  the  kingdom  of  God  within 
himself?  The  decision  may  be  confidently  left  to  the  moral  feeling  of 
each  individual,  and  Strauss  himself  has  rather  adopted  that  moral 
tmposaibility  which  we  designated  a  logical  contradiction,  than  allowed 
liimself  to  embrace  the  other  view.  But  we  must  add  two  more 
points :  first,  if  it  must  be  granted  that  Jesus  himself  has  made  such 
a  distinction  between  Himself  and  collective  mankind,  that  He  presents 
Himself  to  them  as  the  liedeemer  and  the  Judge  of  the  world,  can 
it  be  considered  as  anything  b\it  an  unwarrantable  proceeding  that 
Strauss  still  omits  from  his  acknowledgment,  as  far  as  it  goes,  the  fact 
that  Jesus  also  professed  Himself  to  be  the  Son  of  God,  not  merely  in 
a  theocratical,  but  iu  the  ontological  or  natural,  and  metaphysical 
sense  X  Surely  Strauss  himself  sees  that  by  attributing  to  Himself 
sinless  holiness,  the  raising  of  the  dead,  the  judgment  of  the  world. 
He  likewise,  most  probably,  claimed  divine  attributes.  What  can  it 
be  that  yet  restrains  him  from  granting — especially  as  he  has  his  own 
explanation  of  enthusiasm  and  self-exaltation  at  hand — that  Jesus 
likewise  assumed  to  Himself  to  be  in  substance  that  in  which  those 
exalted  attributes  inhere,  and  without  which  they  cannot  be  imagined 
to  exist,  namely,  a  higher  divine  nature  in  comparison  with  all  pre- 
vious and  contemporaiy  men  ?  The  French  critic  has  here  too  gone 
beyond  the  German  one ;  he  sees  with  reason  no  ground  why  Jesus 
should  not  have  ascribed  Divinity  to  Himself,  when  once  his  enthusiasm 
and  self-exaltation  had  overstepped  the  bounds  of  humanity. 

Lastly,  we  wish  to  observe,  that  if  Jesus  was  such  an  insincere, 
morally  and  religiously  degraded  character  as  He  appears  in  Eenan, 
and  must  needs  appear  in  Strauss  if  his  principles  are  logically  carried 
out,  and  if,  therefore,  the  Christian  religion  at  its  origin,  i.  e.,  in  Christ, 
was  foimded  on  deception  and  criminal  pride, — in  that  case,  the  whole 
mythical  hypothesis,  according  to  which  undesigned  creative  ti-adition 
cmniilated  those  lofty  attributes  on  Christ,  loses  its  support,  its  value, 
and  its  interest.  If  Jesus  himself  has  declared  concerning  Himself 
the  very  highest  that  it  could  have  invented,  it  is  an  idle  and  almost 
totally  insignificant  inquiry,  whether  the  Church  has  invented  single 
lesser  traits  to  adorn  his  image ;  nay,  it  is  perfectly  indifferent  whether 
this  happened  intentionally  or  unintentionally.  Thus  the  mythical 
theory,  at  the  first  step  which  it  had  to  take  upon  the  ground  of  actual 
history,  began  to  destroy  its  own  foundation,  and  to  pass  judgment  on 
itself:  although  no  Penelope,  it  has  set  about  undoing  the  mythical 
web  ■which  it  had  woven. 

Dr.  J.  A.  DoRNER. 


NOTES  FBOM  IRELAND. 


TIi&  Ohtitvk 

I^IIK  Estal'Ufihed  Cliurch  in  IrolninJ  is 
at  present,  upon  grounds  known  lo 
all,  a  npecin.1  object  cif  hostile  nttatk, 
buLli  |ialitLcaI  nnd  rcligiaua.  C'orre- 
ujioiiding  to  tills  hoBtilit^  niiiHt  tie  the 
HolicitUflt  entortainefl  m  rowpect  to  it  by 
all  who  licnefit  liy  its  ojwrfitirnis,  or  can 
cc-iuprcliendliow  ileeply  and  Iiow  widely, 
vTlinlijvfr  lie  its  diefeclB,  a  natioiial  insti- 
tution m  old  And  bo  cxtenKivc  must  hnvo 
peiit:traled  and  rierruded  IHkIi  society. 
Nnr  ran  the  Englisli  Cluirehinari  rogiird 
wiliioiit  a  t)e-ciiliiir  confcrn  the  fato  of 
wliut  18  dodnred  by  legielative  autliority 
to  bo  not  only  a  national  eHtaVilinliment 
like  Ilia  otiti  Clmrfh, — for  this  may  be 
predicalud  of  Iho  Preshj tcrian  Cliurcli 
of  SciM Inuili— but  a  jmrt,  idL'utical  in 
doclrinv  «nd  dist^iplLDL',  of  the  United 
Cluircli  of  Englitiid  iiml  Irttlnnd.  The 
Bubjcct,  tlieireforc,  of  iti  present  ctia- 
ML'ler  onid  movemetita  is  one  of  pcnc- 
rnl  interest  In  this  dopn-rlment  of  our 
review  no  (iKtcnaion  will  bo  mndc  to 
]icrf orm  tUo  functions  either  of  advocate 
or  jiul^c  in  rflation  to  a  conlrovoray  nf 
uiicli  iniiiort&Eicc  Gur  mnin  olijcct  n'ill 
ln3  to  chronicle  from  lime  to  time  all 
noteworthy  ineidmits  bearing  iipo<u  Uic 
intpri^sts  o£  the  inslitulion  ;  but  wliilis 
fultitling  this  unambitiouB  task,  we  shall 


feel  lit  liherCy  to  cbdraeleriKc  the  «c« 
and  opinions  wc  record,  and  la  [hroT 

OMt  Btlggegtiotis  aa  to  the  rt-swtta  likdj 
to  eaunc  from  deeds  done  or  sdunoi 

]>T0]lOSl>d. 

IlH  prPEPnt  posiLiott  lifls  tatiiralK- Ciillcl 
fo'rtii  tiiv  efforts  of  defenders  to  inert 
the  charges  of  opponents.  It  m«y  I* 
convenient  to  our  renders  if  we  simi- 
inarize  tiOAie  of  theats  defensive  (itntr> 
tuenta.  The  tifliirceji  frnni  which  wt 
dmw  arc  nininly  Uib  Ai'dibiabupv  of  Ar- 
Jnagli'B  cliargi'  deliverwl  in  1^64,  llio 
llev.  W.  C.  Pliinket's  p.triijihleJ,  IIk-  iiHf 
condensed  colJcclinn  of  facts  jmblliihTO 
by  tho  Itev.  Alfred  T,  Lve.  and  tvi-y  )«*• 
turtw  committed  to  the  prvs«  by  Mr. 
Wbittside,*  In  BHswer  tn  the  Mela- 
wient  thiit  the  (Jhiirch  hnn  b-ciMi  sinlion- 
ory  or  decliniiij^,  we  are  furnished  willi 
the  folJowing  fltatiAticat  list,  from  whirli 
we  must  infer  a  very  largo  increase  i» 

•  "  CharpB   to  tho  ClcTgy,    1884.     Br 
Mnrdiis  Gcrt'fliB,  ,\nhbi»hop  of  Anuigh. 
St"~oiid  Edition.     (Tlmlf!.'*  4i  Smitli.^ 

"  TJio  C'liuncli  and  tlie  Ccnatu  in  Irekud- 
By  tho  Iter.  "VV.  C.  Viuniflt."  (HodeMi 
Smiii,) 

"  Furls  iT^aiK-nting  tho  Pre-sent  State  of 
tlip  Cliun-h  ill  Irulnnd.  By  the  Rev,  Alfred 
T.  I.fL'."     iVirtli  llditiun.     ^Iliviiigtons-l 

"Thp  Church  in  ]i-el*Jiil.  lEy  Ihe  liight 
lion.  Jaiiic'3  MTiiftaiiiu.''     (Kiringtiiii*.) 


-^-IlJ 


NotesjKoni  Ireland. 


:1>eTs during  a  period  o£  leM.  than 
if-ceoturica : — 

7M  there  wbia     800  elergy. 
B63        „  S,2H1       ,., 

730        „  40*  eburebw. 

863        „  1,6J3        „ 

iThiteaicle  stfttes  t!iat  of  the  1,C33 
snow  in  Irclanil  tlicretiavo  been 
1,000  built  Bince  the  Union  in 
ad  Ihat  eince  3&48  nearly  300 
en  cnlarg^.  A  btill  rjiore  im- 
rctnm  (jutitcd  by  liim  \&  that  of 
y  aabaeripliona  paid  ia  the  last 
»  to  tte  treasurer  of  tbe  E-cclcsf- 
^mmiGsio[ier,s  uf  irclauil :  IhniT 
^101,125  4s.  1.1.     Wo  necil  not 

this  Biim  does  not  inchiile  ttie 
mt  espenditiiTe  by  Mr.  GuininGKB 
iO  reatoration  of  St.  Patrick's 
ft],  an  expenditure  whicli  cxc^ctta 
Qont;  but  it  is  doubtlesa  exclsi- 
•  of  otiier  iiistttiiccR  o£  vvJunlflrj' 
ture.  Being  of  oiiinion  that  tlio 
Irelaod  liavv  in  post  genii^ra.tions 
creditably  parsirDonioafl  in  their 
tious  towaiilii  all  Church  par- 
e  hail  *vitb  the  gfenter  pkosure 
f  thus  aiTordu^l  of  their  awnkeii- 
tnicr  Hcnse  of  tbeir  obligations. 
e  here  to 'mention  aUo  the  so- 
■met  to  endow  churches  in  We&t 
;ht  -.  whatever  differetices  of 
may  exist  ae.  to  tlio  operations 
Tisb  Cbtirch  Missions  (and  into 
:roversy  we  prefer  not  to  eoter^), 
iwrieot  Bocicty  bears  tcatiinoiiy 
?ality  of  conquests   miide^  ana 

right  method  of  Beciiriiig  their 
race.  These  are  all  indications 
ty  and  progress,  On  the  other 
I  learn  from  Censns  returns  that 

1834  an.l  IRtil,  by  a  dwliue 
1^160  to  738,756,  a  decrease  of 

t&ok  place    in    the    coinbiotid 

of  the  Establialied  Church  and 
ipdisls,  or  II  decrease  of  13'4 
t.;f  but  tliat  this  is  mainly 
ble  to  the  elEocLs  of  the  famine 
Ration   is  GUfficiently  iudical-ed 

markalile  ptmpUk-t  hni  juat  ap- 
I  ihe  form  of  "A  letter  to  ILia 
I  Archbiehon  »t  Dubbn,  un  Prose- 
by  OQ  Irian  Veer,  {^adgas  and 
It  troKta  of  iLo  Hubjtrct  in  ratbcr 
lect,  and  onv  n'orthy  of  coDsiilgr' 

Cenaiisof  1834  rockotied,  tn^'ther 
m  and  Mcthudiita.  In  IIUQI  the 
m6y3,3o7,  thBlotter4fl,a&9.  Mr. 
sagiponag  both  to  havo  decntasnl 

3 


kk 


by  the  fact  of  the  siDtilar  dct^reasf},  but 
at  a  greater  rate  per  cent.,  of  the  mem- 
bers  of  all  other  denominntions,  so  that 
the  absolute  decrease  in  the  members  of 
the  EstaUi-shed  Church  k  a  relative  io- 
CTBftae."  Tho  Census  of  18lil  ba8  sup- 
plied another  argument,  which  has  been 
mnch  used  agaiost  the  KalabbBhtoent, 
by  its  statement  that  there  are  199  pa- 
rishes in  Ir-eland  wn'thont  any  members  of 
the  Church.  Tbiti  ilMO'oking'  statement, 
however,  i^  deprived  of  forcu  by  a  refer- 
ence to  the  distinction  between  the  rivil 
jtfiriih,  on  which  the  Census  returo  is 
founded,  und  that  which  constitulca  tm 
ecclesiastit^al  htnrjtce,  A  beneflca  often 
includca  many  civil  psridhea,  there  being 
in  fact  2,421^  civil  parishes  in  Ireland, 
and  only  1,510  benefices,  or  918  more 
civil  parifih^es  than  Ijenefices.  It  wouhl 
appear  that  nndcT  arrangoiiien  tn  now 
in  operation  there  will  remain  but  one 
benefice  without  inhfibitflnt  meojlient  of 
the  Church,  and  this  esceptionsl  bene- 
fice bos  a  ehureh  on  the  border  of  aa 
adjoining  parii^h,  in  which  Divino  Ser- 
vice is  performed  for  the  benefit  of  an 
attending  congregation.  But  if  the  de- 
fenitcrs  of  tba  EstabliBhrneat  are  suc- 
cessful in  mectinjj  this  charge,  and  in 
cx|>osing  the  mistake  cipon  which  it  is 
founded,  wo  must  admit  that  their  mode 
of  exliibiting  the  Chureh  popLiJatiuu  by 
tt  statempiit  of  averages  is  one  wiiich 
conceals  rather  than  represents  the  facta 

m  afi  equal  ratie,  ndcidatea  that,  in  1634i 
CEmrvlinjcn  worp  800,73n,Mi-thodislH  62,430, 
r^uciag  thug  (his  dpiTcas^  gf  tbo  fonder  to 

Q  rate  of  about  13  per  ceot. 
"  The  carrected  return  is  as  foUowa : — 

lft94  IfiOI         Dtcnan. 

R«v»ti  CittlialJ«i...l),«<.cKn  im,!R«    Wi  p.  Dmt. 

Pnibxtntona,., 5)3,0^       S!t3.ail      1&'6      „ 

Otlii't      rrutnuut 
KiMaaUn., ,.„,..-.     21.883        W.MO     S2*     .. 

In  the  nurohera  wc  have  givon  wo  hare 
adopted  the  corrtctiona  of  the  Censiw  estab- 
luh(Hi  in  the  Primate's  tharge.  We  mny 
here  add,  in  eorrection  of  Mr.  Jrollojie,  (hnt 
the  truepropOTtlon  ol'  the  Roman  Cnthulics 
to  ^ifl  Chureh  of  Ensliiril  population  ia 
Ireland  is  a  Itttle  Icae  Ibim  EJ  io  1 ;  he  cnili 
it  first  9,  unci  then  10  to  1.  The  piopot- 
tioa  ai  Booian  Calholica  to  all  I'Tott'stanlfl 
iaalitlle  more  than  3b  to  1.  Looking  at 
the  operation  and  tendeflty  of  present  events^ 
then;  ig,  we  think,  every  n-nson  to  believe 
that  the  Prpteatont  rather  than,  the  Uotnan 
CmJiolio  clement  ia  that  whith  is  likely  to 
advafice,  bath  in  nuntbi-r^  anil  uiSuetieOi — 
a  eon«iileratioa  Hot  to  be  lost  sight  Of  by 
legislaton- 


4Q0 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


of  tbe  case.  Our  readers  may  Le  aware 
what  may  be  aceompliiibed  in  this  way 

by  ftverageB,  tlioBP  most  dolnsivfl  of  nft 
nuaitricai  pocesees  ;  but  Wiey  will  cer- 
tainly Consider  tlint  a  vm-  sjiccial  feat 
of  the  kind  lias  Ihjou  per/orraed  in  tlie 
sulijcct  before  us,  if  tlicy  will  coinpftrG  a 
table  given  in  Mr.  Wliitcsidea  lecture, 
[1.  l.>7,  asei^iiinf^  37fi  as  the  averagQ 
iiiinibcr  of  IJie  CljurL-h  pojnilatifvii  Jn  tlie 
rural  Wnflices  of  Ireland,"  ivitli  thu 
catalij^'iie  at  llie  cml  of  Mr.  Bradya 
pamphlet,  cxlubitinE;  n  return  of  the 
same  for  ennli  benefice  10  the  dinccKe  of 
>I*alh,j'  Wu  tlunk  it  uo  unfrii-ndly 
act  to  direct  attention  to  thw  weak  point, 
U'MUse,  as  all  admit  that  mternpl  ini- 
pvovcmeiita  ai'o  called  for,  it  is  de^iraliEe 
thnt  real  defects  f  houtd  bd  looket]  in  the 
face,  and  remedita  sought  for  them. 
With  thiS'  K(.'t  of  C'liureh  Gtatif^tivti  in 
view,  wy  arc  led  lo  su>,'ges.t  that  many 
ailvaatages  wnuld  attend  upon  carrj-ing 
mllcl]  fiirllier  thiin  bus  Leen  dobe  llie 
fij'gltiiii  of  uniting  mro.1  iiamlietiiEi  u'hich 
the  population  ij*  fiiiiall.  Active  incum- 
bents wnuld  bo  thus  given  work  com- 
ujustisiimtc  with  tbeir  power,  and  active 
Btipendiary  ciiratea  would  receive  a  much 
more  elfectivc  training  than  at  ]iresent 
in  the  dutk-H  of  their  profeesion,  together 
witii  better  pay  in  rcmiinenition  for  tliflir 
aeri'iccs.  In  this  way,  tlie  whole  rural 
cliTfj',  reduced  in  number,  ivoidd  rise  in 
energy,  influence,  and  even  social  posi- 
tion. We  bliall  not  attempt  to  ^el^^oduco 
ari^inentjj  founded  on  the  Ei^tablidh- 
iiient'H  ftiiKiiined  ripht  to  perpetual  pM~ 
Bf.asiwn  of  its  t^iupuraHties,  on  its  liislo' 
rical  continuity,  on  the  Union  corapoict, 
^c,  bdiny  persuaded  that  its  defensive 
fltrcnpth  resides  not  iu  any  aueli  rights 
MX  flttributeH,  but  iu  pruofa  of  activity 
and  profjrcfiti,  such  aa  tliose  wc  have 
Lotecf  above  ;  and  still  more  in  the  gene- 
ral cliftmcter  of  ice  eltrgj',  and  tin;  mdu- 
tarj'  teBching.  in  religion  and  loyalty, 
which  they  diffuae.  Facts  sUcli  aa  theae 
prove  itt4  present  value,  and  that  it  iy,  && 
now  conwlituted,  a  living,  growing,  not- 
ing member  of  the  body  politic,  per- 
forming important  functions,  and  one 
whieb  could  not  be  amputated  or  with- 
drawn from  any  Bjihcre  of  action  with- 
out leaving  a  bleeding  wound,  and  cmis- 
ing  a  lui.s  to  the  whole  coniniunity  of 

"  Wl-  st'p  Mr.  riunk'-'t  gives  the  authority 
of  Sir  Hm^h  Cmirns  I'or  Ihia  iiunibiT, 

t  "  BemwkB  on  the  Irish  Chuj-oh  Tempo- 
nlilieB.  HvUV.  Maziere  Brady.  D,D.  Dub- 
lin: Wm.  M'Cee.     IB60." 


hca.lth  and  strengtli.  The  Irish  Church 
has  had  the  advanlsge  of  respected  and 
skilful  advocates  in  the  authors  of  the 
publications,  wo  have  firet  cited,  aud  in 
the  cmincTit  men  who,  as  lis  representi- 
tives,  have  picadled  its  eauEe  at  tlie  ret'ciil 
Church  cnngresaes, — Mr.  Flunket,  tbo 
Deans  of  Cork,  CasEiel,  and  Kmly,  Dr. 
Butcher,  Jir.  Napiior,  an<l  Dr.  Salmon  ;• 
but  BeiTLCti  of  a  kijii)  etill  more  valnakb 
has  been  recently  rendered  to  it  by  the 
neivly-ac'iiiired  chief  pnslor,  who.during 
the  Inst  aiitnmn,  has  tJeca  aniinaling  the 
clerpj'  of  his  extCBsivc  province  to  the 
careful  |icrformance,  iu  a  spirit  of  pioui 
zeal  and  conaideratc  chanty,  of  their 
s.icrcd  duties,  From  what  has  trnni- 
pired  of  Fenian  designs,  the  Arcbhiahop 
o£  Dublin,  iB  liis  charge,  tnfera  eonflnn- 
ation  of  the  view  that  no  etrong  feehng 
againgt  the  clergy  of  the  EKtablisfaed 
Cliurch  exists  among  the  peasantry  of 
the  countrj'.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is 
to  be  noted  that  the  National  AssDCiu- 
tioa  takes  credit  for  having  sent  up  to 
Parliament  last  session  363  petitinns, 
with  I53,&73  signatures,  in  favour  of  its 
discadownient ;  but  Ibis  as8i»ciation  liM 
received  little  support  from  the  Rumui 
Catholie  laity,  and  is  worked  mainly  hy 
the  hierarchy  and  a  eection  of  the  prioit- 
hood  ;  and  all  who  know  how  Gignattues 
are  obtained  at  cliape)  by  tlio  priests, 
will  not  be  disposed  to  consider  tuem  a^ 
indicating  with  any  certaiaty  the  per- 
sonal feelings  and  ojiinions  of  tbetr 
(locks.  There  are,  at  the  same  time, 
many  proofs  that  Boinon  Catholic  lay- 
men of  condition  believe  a  provisiop 
by  the  State  for  their  clergj-  to  lie  the 
measure  which  is  most  cn]l«il  for  k  Uie 
present  juncture  of  Irish  affaire.  The 
propoijal  is  one  wliieh  forces  itself  npoa 
the  serious  consideratton  of  all.  Looked 
at  from  the  Htateaioan's  point  of  view, 
it  has  very  strong  rtLonimendations.  It 
is  founded  on  apparent  juaLice,  and  it 
would  lend  to  secure  the  loyalty  of  atl 
order  of  soeiety  who  po-^seas  over  the 
ma^sea  of  tlie  [risli  ptfajde  the  {^Tcateet 
amount  of  influence  ;  while  the  compet- 
ing plan  of  disendi>wing  tlie  Establislied 
(Jhurch  would  inevitably  weaken  the 
English  connection.  Any  religious  ob- 
jection to  it  on  the  part  of  the  State  has 
been  invalidated  by  precocfents  ftlrcadT 

•  "We  dcairc  porlicnlarly  to  caJ]  jtttention 
to  the  eluqucut  unil  aJjiiimbly  coaiiePK<l 
ugumcat  of  the  Dean  'if  Emiy,  sf  full; 
niported  in  the  IrUh  £i^cU*uutitmi  GiulH 

of   UctOticr,  IStio. 


J&i 


Notes  from  Ireland. 


491 


created  in  the  payment  of  Roman  Catlio- 
lic  chaplains  for  various  departments  of 
the  public  service,  and  indeed  can  only 
be  consistently  maintained  in  argument 
by  those  who  hold  that  this  form  of 
CbriBtianity  ia  valueless  to  its  attached 
and  faithfnl  adherents  for  either  moral 
or  spiritual  benefit.  Notwithstanding 
the  recent  general  discouragement  of 
the  Fenian  conspiracy  by  the  Roman 
Catholic  priesthood,  which  it  would  be 
unjust  not  to  acknowledge,  it  is  noto- 
Tioas  that  they  have  not  been  hitherto, 
as  a  body,  active  promoters  of  loyalty  to 
British  authority.  It  is  no  imputation 
OQ  them  to  believe  that  their  own  feel- 
ings would  be  different,  and  their  influ- 
ence in  behalf  of  loyalty  more  cordially 
exerted,  if  they  were  recognised  by  the 
State  as  rendermg  to  their  co-religionists 
services  which,  on  the  whole,  were  bene- 
ficial to  the  community,  and  deserving 
of  substantial  reward ;  it  would  be  a 
concurrent  advantage  that  their  flocks, 
generally  very  poor,  would  experience 
relief  in  the  diminution  of  their  pay- 
ments to  their  clergy,  and  would  be  gra- 
tified by  a  permanent  endowment  be- 
ing providea  for  their  spiritual  benefit, 
while  from  both  would  be  removed  the 
grievance  of  the  contrast  which  now 
exists  in  this  respect  between  them- 
selves and  the  Protestant  Churchmen 
of  Ireland.  We  are  not  unmindful  of 
the  eeriouB  objection  which  the  foreign 
headship  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church 
raises  to  any  State  connection  with  it ; 
we  are  aware  that  even  in  Ireland  there 
are  difficulties  in  the  way  of  such  a  mea- 
sure, and  Uiat  in  England  strong  preju- 
dices and  powerful  political  tendencies 
wonld  impede  its  enactment ;  but  we 
have  reason  to  believe  that  these  diffi- 
culties are  already  felt  to  be  compara- 
tively less  than  they  were  only  a  short 
time  ago — that  opinion  among  the  most 
thoughtful  Protestants  has  undergone  of 
late  a  very  sensible  modification.  The 
wise  statesman,  and,  we  will  add,  the 
good  Christian,  is  bound  to  consider  the 
special  circumstances  of  each  political 
problem, — and  that  of  the  present  state 
and  needs  of  Ireland  is  one  of  great 
difficulty  and  great  urgency. 

Another  token  of  energy  given  by  the 
Church  of  Ireland  is  the  demand  which 
bos  arisen  in  various  quarters  for  the 
revival  of  the  Irish  Convocation.  Such 
a  measure  has  been  advocated  in  his 
recent  charge  by  the  Irish  Primate,  and 
claimed  in   Parliament  by  Archbishop 


Trench.  Doubtless  the  demand  is  nata- 
ral,  and  to  be  justified  by  many  reasons ; 
yet  we  may  be  excused  for  repeating 
what  has  been  urged  by  others,  that  to 
have  been  revived,  as  was  proposed 
last  session,  for  the  transaction  of 
a  nugatory  form,  would  have  conferred 
no  dignity  on  its  resuscitation,  and  for 
suggesting  that  at  tlie  present  juncture, 
when  it  is  thought  politic  to  insist  on 
the  unity  of  the  Church  in  Ireland  with 
that  in  England,  it  may  be  more  prudent 
not  to  rouse  into  activity  a  debating 
body,  the  proceedings  of  wliich  might 
probably  draw  attention  rather  to  the 
diversities  which  subsist  between  the  two 
parts  of  the  Church  than  to  the  bonds 
which  unite  them.  The  time  will  come, 
we  trust,  when  a  remodelled  Convoca- 
tion of  the  whole  Church  in  these  king- 
doms will  include,  to  the  benefit  of  all 
concerned,  our  Irish  brethren.  Mean- 
time, we  observe  with  interest  that  a 
Diocesan  Conference  has  been  for  a  year 
or  two  meeting  in  the  autumn,  under 
the  presidency  of  the  Bishop  of  Down, 
and  tliat  papers  of  a  high  order,  on  im- 
portant subjects,  have  been  read  and 
discussed  by  men  of  real  ability  and 
learning,  such  as  Dr.  Reichel,  Mr.  Byrne, 
Mr,  McKay,  Mr.  Murphy,  and  Dean 
Atkins.  By  the  first  named  of  these 
gentlemen,  the  subject  of  the  Divinity 
course  in  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  has 
been  brought  into  a  discussion,  which 
has  been  carried  on  with  much  anima- 
tion in  newspapers,  as  well  as  in  the 
Down  Conference.  He  proposes  altera- 
tions which  seem  worthy  of  being  favour- 
ably considered ;  at  the  same  time, 
admission  should  be  freely  mode  that 
very  efficient  teaching,  within  a  certain 
range,  has  been  given  in  the  Dublin 
School.  It  is  satisfactory  to  observe 
that  on  all  sides  it  is  agreed  that 
students  for  the  ministry  should  be  pre- 
pared by  thorough  instmction  to  meet 
the  religious  questions  and  difficulties 
of  the  times,  and  thus  to  guide  and 
support  the  faith  of  their  flocks. 

We  have  to  record  the  endowment  of 
missionary  scholarships  for  the  educa- 
tion of  Irish  students  in  tlie  College  of 
St.  Augustine,  Canterbury,  and  we  learn 
with  equal  pleasure  that  the  Archbishop 
of  Dublin,  by  whom  this  plan  was  origi- 
nated, is  engaged  in  promoting  the  insti- 
tution of  a  Ladies'  College,  with  a  resi- 
dence attached,  and  in  forming  a  scheme 
for  establishing  a  corps,  extremely  need- 
ed, of  trained  nurses. 


492 


Tfie  Contemporary  Review. 


In  the  able  charge  to  wliich  we  have 
olready  referrcJ,  Arn-liliialiu^i  Trcncli 
discusseH  Llie  pi'-esctit  iitiite  ut  the  Su- 
tioiial  Edwcfttion  ([iieslion.  Cuudidly 
avowing  that  lie  would  Imro  counfed 
it  uo  sin  to  have  eoDformed  to  the 
GovorDBient  Bcheme,  he  states  his  aHgw 
that  it  has  failed  to  secure  tmttcd 
educntiO'Q,  (ldcI  that  it  is  now  desirable 
to  adopt  a  compromiRe,  wberelhy  exdu- 
aively  den om ! national  Behoolw  sinouM  be 
AKStat«ct,  wliori?  the  populati'on  Admits  of 
sei^nite  gcIiooIs,  and  thnt,  when?  it  docs 
Hot,  tlie  present  flvstem  ahould  Tcraain 
in  force.  We  admire  the  spirit  in  wUicli 
this  compromise  has  beeti  proposed,  hilt 
we  cannot  bnt  rreognisi',  uiuyng  other 
disadvantages  attending  it,  that  in  large 
pojndationR  it  would  throw  away  tlie 
existing;  saliitnry  restrictions  upon  the 
Btibjuct-ni alter  of  education  which  ai'e 
c£  value  to  the  State,  and  that  in  places 
of  Hnall  population  it  would  reniain 
npqn  to  all  the  objections  wliicli  liave 
been,  bo  persistently  urged  by  the  clergy 
of  both  cfiurches,  whilo  at  the  same 
time  crenting  among  such  oppoaeiita  the 
new  grievancG  that  thogv  objections 
have  been  yi^Wed  to  in  other  nnrta  of 
the  counlrjv  perhaps  in  the  adjoining 
psrish.  And  here  it  is  worth  wiiila  to 
notice  that  some  words  of  that  alile  and 
wise  governor,  Lord  Woddipusi;,  have 
bad  wider  coneluaiona  drawn  from  tiiem 
than  he  iirobobh'  wouJd  satietion.  lu  a 
speech  referring  to  the  proposed  Roman 
Catholic  College  in  connection  with  tlie 
(Juecn's  Univer:jity,  after  declaring  his 
Mushakcn  aL[adim<Jiit  to  united  educa- 
tion, especially  ia  Irelmid,  he  added, 
"Yet  1  lliiuk  the  geoiua  of  our  institu- 
tions and  tlie  princijdo  of  our  govern- 
ment require  that  we  shcinM  not  rcfiiee 
(Ae  a^lvarifiigc  of  academieal  drgrfts  to 
those  who,  from  conRcienfioiis  convic- 
tions, decline  to  accept  the  system  of 
nnifed  education."  This  sentence  of 
Lord  'W'octehouse  is-  referred  to  by  the 
Timet  ae  laying  down  for  the  regulation 
of  public  institutions  the  general  prin- 
ciple, that  "respect  miiat  he  paid  to 
really  conecientJouB  objcctiouH,  although 
we  may  bc  unable  to  agree  with  thelO, 
nnd  althnugh  they  do  not  assume  Iho 
form  of  specific  religious  belief." 
Surely,  in  snch  estension  of  the  prin- 
ciple, the  limiting  clause  oiifiht  (o  be 
.milted, — "  when  p.uch  reajject  to  acruptea, 
judged  unrt'aaoniible,  does  not  inlemro 
with  greater  good."    It  is  this  liniitatioo 


of  the  principle  which  seems  to  us  to 
jnslify.  III  the  matter  of  primary  ednca- 
tion,  the  requirement  of  A  "  cnnscicnc*^ 
cLauEo  in  England,  and  to  tall  for  that 
protection  of  the  interests  of  a  minorily 
whi{^li  18  secured  by  the  present  system 
in  Ireland.  It  is  much  to  be  regretted 
that  any  dcrintion  from  thbt  protective 
Tal«  has  ever  been  indnlged  in.  We 
give  in  a  note  some  important  tettmis 
from  the  Report  for  IBM  of  the  Com- 
niissionera  of  Kational  Education,  from 
the  Clinreh  Education  Soiriety,  and  from 
the  Queen's  Uoiversity."     With  rcpard 

•  Extraeti  fniit  the  Thirty-Jint  litpoft  of 
the  Cofiimiiuwiiera  of  Kalioaai  Edneatiait : — 

"Ou  t.h«31«t  of  Deceniber,  1863,w«hiJ 
6,163  schools  in  operation,  which  hwl  un 
their  rolta,  for  the  year  Chpu  ended,  »40.a69 
ehildrt'tL ;  vdth  an  avtra^  daily  atteadaace, 
foi  the  gnmii  period,  of'29B,936cMldTen,Hid 
an  avcrogo  nurubor  of  children  on  th«  rolli 
for  the  year  of  544,192.  At  the  close  of  (he 
year  I96i,  The  number  of  schools  in  opcri- 
[jon  waa  B,2fi3.  The  nrcnipc  dnily  nttrtiJ- 
Q3M:e  of  ehUd/en  for  tli*  year  was  313,108.; 
the  ftvi;ni)?e  Tiiaiiler  oC  children  on  the  Ft^ 
was  itia.i^a ;  while  the  total  numberof  Jif- 
tinet  chiEilren  ikt  i^ny  tiue  oa  the  KiJli  for 
the  year  was  8(0,401. 

"As  coniparcd  with  the  yeur  18S3,  tliei* 
is  an  in^^rcasc  of  100  in  the  Eiumber  of 
schools  ill  operation  for  the  year  1864,  whilo 
ill  the  daily  average  attendiiocB  the  incicxic 
amounts  to  IS,  1 2^;  in  th«  overage  nnmlKr 
on  the  rolls  \'av  inetvan;  amO'imte  ta  3(i,n94, 
and  in  thu  total  niiTtiLi^r  of  pupHs  enrolled 
during  [ho  year  the  inercoso  owaimli  lJi 
29,B32," 

Estimated  Qumben,  for  the  year  tS44, 
of  pupils,  according  to  religions  denomiu- 
tion: — 

"Established  Chareh  .    SU.&fil  J 
Komnn  ColholiCB    .  .  TH).£;0  I     Total, 
rreabyterians   ....     97,053  1   STO.Wl 
Other  perauasiana  .  .       6,117) 

«. «.,  Prntciitfliitfl  of  all  denominatioM, 
160,131,  or  lS-40  per  cent,  i  and  HotnMi 
CnLhulies,  710,2;a,  or  Bl-60  per  cent. 

"The  foUowiug  tRblv  »lw»s  tte  poi- 
centagc  of  schools  from  which  retunu  have 
been  received,  exhiliting  0  mix«il  itttcndonco 
of  I'rotcslnnt  und  Itoman  Ciilhiihe  pujtili, 
for  the  yenre  1861,  1SQ3,  and  1661 :— 


13&U 

1863. 

19134 

rister    .     . 

.     811 

81-6 

BO-9 

Mimster 

,     30.5 

32'8 

S3-0 

Loinster 

.     39-7 

ID'S 

*0-4 

CoDsnught . 

.     45-1 

4A1 

45-(l 

Total   . 


53C 


54  0 


541  " 


The  Cnllowring  ia  a  very  Lnip«rt«jil  p»rt-- 
t-raph  oJ  the  Itepoit : — 
"  It   uppeuni  tliat  the  total  anmber  o^ 


Notes  from  Inland. 


493 


I 


I 


I 


totbeintKivBtioiiBaid.  to  be  contemplated 
of  incorporaling  an  excluaivel}-  Honmn 
CatliMic  ColK'Bc  with  Uie  Qyeen's  Uhi- 
voisity.  the  gradnntee  of  this  LTnireraity 
have  prioteU  a  " .SUi,iemi.'[it."  BBttin;^  forth 
wiUi  great  clearEfus  ami  strength  tiic 
aUjectiona  to  whicii  it  is  liabTe.^  It 
woulil  iuflict  a.  n'ottui],  which  might 
prove  fiiU],  Ujioti  Chu  »>'Hti:in  of  iuixe<l 
superior  eiliJC3,tion  in  Irclaiiil,  and  (ns 
o^hpearB  by  a  reraarbahlG  paiuijliJttt  pri- 
vately cij-cutlrtteii  hy  Sir  Doriiiuic  Uorri- 
gan)  is  uDwelcoiuc  to  the  Romnn  Catbo- 
lic  gentry  of  ihe  co-uutry,  wlio  value  for 
thflir  aons  the  opijortuiiitici  now  afforded 
of  assofiiUion  in  youth  with  tlieir  foevAls 
of  other  denominationB.  For  those  who 
prefer  an  exclusive  RomaT]  Cntholio 
education,  or  dt-grcu-s  obtained  without 
prcviouii  ct}<licgiaite  [ectures  nod  disci- 
piine,  there  cXiMls  the  resource  of  tho 
London  Univereity,  which  applies  cx- 
amiufttiOQ  tests  only,  and  cxaiuinL-^  for 
degrees  in  Ireland.  Altogether  it  is 
plHiii  that  Die  present  aj-stems  of  primnrj- 
ond  Bunerior  edu-uatLUQ  in  Ireland  are  ro 
TtUUAble,  both  in  tbeir  results  and  tcn- 


chUdrra  on  the  roUa  of  our  moilpl  auhoaU 
for  the  bisE  qtmrter  of  tliu  year  i36i  wu 
l]l,2;0;  of  whJcIi  2,9o9  wcru  of  tlw  Estub- 
lisliud  ChiiTL^h,  ^  4,997  l^man  Oatliulii-s, 
2,986  Presbylcrinns,  and  7!ii1t  bclanging  to 
QfLer  pnaiitasioni." 

Ejrtrart  fnmi  IttjMfi  of  C/irrrcA  EJnfalioii 
£er{*tji  fnr  1864:— 
"EKUblishedChiuclipupilfl     ,  47,092 

DiMenlera ri,<il6 

Itoman  Catbolica      ....     11,300" 
It  is  iidn3ilt<?(i  in  lh»>  Itaport  tktit  both 
DiawalvH'  Dud  Koroaii  CnthuUca  axe  diiuin- 
iihing  in  number. 

KcUaet  from  Statement  retpeetini/  the 
QuMw''  nhirarei/ff  ." — 

"  Siuubi^r  of  studenU  attending  the  Ihree 
Queen'fl  CoUegpa :— • 

In  1837-58 -145 

1864-65 S35 

"  The  numberi  of  the  sevcrid  fersua-iionB 
fttten.^3^;  the  Colleges  in  tho  Insl  tiinm 
nan  were  aa  foUov^ ; — 

OtboF 

EMtUittiEd    RfRiiui    PmnhT-      Pcr- 
Church..    Citt.1iLi]iL\     tcnui.   luwiniia. 

1S62-€S     ,     2Vi         '2\i         277  «1 

1863-64     .     2\0         237         MO        UV.i 
1804-65     .     m         229         273        112" 
Sec  Uiaso  numliere  Recounted  fijr  in  p-  21  of 
the  "Statement." 

•  A  fiJl  diaeuMion  of  the  whole  mbjeet 
13  contained  in  n  masterly  p^iraphlet  by  that 
distiuguishpd  jmlitit-al  ivriti'r,  J.  E.  €[iin<i;», 
Esq.,  on  "  UnivuKiity  ildin-'alioTi  in  In-loiid," 
reprinted  from  the  Throlriguai  Uttwie,  and 
publuhod  by  MnL-iuiLlan  k  Cn. 


denci«s,  na  to  crare  wary  liandling  on  thO 
partbf  Government rttidle^alatorB.  They 
are  doubtlos-s  imperfect  in  operation,  and 
applauflc  mav  ha  plained  iVorn  opposito 
ustreiues  of  the  religious  world  by  their 
deafriaction  ;  but  precioiia  rceultd  and 
iuflaunces  may  thus  he  irretrievably  loat, 
ntid  evils  incurred  far  trunacendliij^  <kny 
pri»jciit  iucouveniGnL-etJ. 

Thoh'ipcal  LiteratuTf}, 

The  DoiinellftTi  bequest  to  the  Dublin 
University,  -nhidj  produced,  in  the  eftriy 

partof  thiaeenturj',  the  lectures  of  Arch- 
lji(iliop  Matrec  ou  the  Atonemeut  and  uf 
Uenn  <j raves  on  the  Peutaleilch,  and  mora 
recently  Arclidflacon  Lee'ti  work  on  In- 
s{>irati{>n,  and  those  of  Dean  MacDorioQll 
00  tito  Ataneuient  and  l)t?an  Alkina  on 
the    PtiKtorj,l    Ollice,    haSy   in    the    year 
l>l(J4-6.''h,  ^'ivon  Qccaaion  to  tlia  delivery 
and  publi<:ation  of  a  set  of  aermous  by 
Dr.  Kyder,  on  "  Tlie  Stniptiiral  Doctrine 
of  Acceptance  with  God  considered  in 
reference  to  the  Neologian   Hertueneu- 
tica."     The  object  of  thtKU  discourses  it 
to  estihlish.  upon  the  foundation  of  the 
identity  of  Divine  and  human  morality, 
a  view  of  the  IcrmB  of  acceptance  with. 
God,  free  from  tlie  moral  objoctiooe  to 
whieh  the  views  u£  Pttuthciste  nnd  Ca!- 
vitusls  (ire  obnoxious.    They  arc  marked 
bywidth  of  thought  and  coQipeteut  learn- 
ing, but  Ibe  diction  is  too  abstruse  even 
for  the  pulpit  of  a  coElega  chapel,  and 
tli<?  develo|JDiCDt  of  the  argument  haa 
HuSured  from  the  Uniita  to  which  it  h^ 
been   obliged  to  confonn.      The  philo- 
hophifnl    theologian  will,  Iioweviir,   ba 
rewarded   by  much   sound   and   boncBt 
thoufjht    fur    a    peraevering    Btudy    of 
tb<^so  sermons  and  the  appended  notes. 
The   charge  brought  agaiuKt   thetn    by 
the    reviewer  iu  the  Aihffii^uvi   (in   a 
spirit  hostile  not  to  tho  author,  but  to 
the  Church  ArtEcl-e,)  of  her<36y,  as  con- 
travening tha  EighteeuLh    Article,   be- 
muse alTowiug  tho  possibility   of    the 
Bulvntion  of   individual   heathens,  iQUSt 
hovo  been  smiled  at  by  any  novice  in. 
Church   of   Eugland    divinity  who    had 
learned  the  distiuet-ion  that  a  heathen, 
while  not  owing  his  sitlvntion  to  "the 
law  or  Kect  which  he  professeth,"  might 
vot  be  saved,  though  unacquainted  with 
the  Divine  procesB,  through  virtue   o£ 
the  mediation  of  tho  Sou  of  God.     Tho 
Dimufdlan   Lectures  now  in   course  of 
delivery  by  the  able  and  eloquent  Duan 
of  Cock,   Dr.   Magcc,   are   upon.  "The 
Relation  of  Goascicnco    to  Heligion." 


494 


The  Conlemporary  Review. 


We  may  siifdv  count  upon  tlieir  bring  * 
illg  into  tlie  "gilt  of  clearly  reasoned 
art,'iiincnt  t!ie  i^iffieiilties  of  lliia  fimda- 
Tiit,'litHl  ami  most  interBfiting'  siilijcct. 
If  we  CBiinot  any  lli.it  tlie  m.inile  of 
Archer  ButEpr,  who  Wfrnlod  so  remnrk- 
ably  till!  [10(^1,  till?  pliilofiophpr,  and  tlie 
preiK'lier,  li&s  fallt^u  upon  osiy  Buccceaor, 
we  may  ftsMi^n  to  sevcrftl  luerabers  of 
lifs  cullotjc,  who  linvc  followed  IiiiLt  in 
tlio  lagt-Q lined  functiun,  tscrittt  of  a 
Iiigh  clasa.  Tlie.Hcrmons  of  tlic  luTuented 
Ilr.  MacNcf^ce,  of  Lr.  Halmon,  and  of 
Profefiaor  Jellet,  nil  bear  out  tliis  state- 
ment. Tlicy  all  dedt  with  toi'icK,  thto- 
TCtic  and  practwal,  of  tlie  highflst 
religious  imporlanfu,  Hnf,''geBted  by  the 
qiieations  of  tlio  dray.  In  Dr.  MacXecce's 
w(!  tiijoy  candid  and  cogent  rensoniiif,', 
combined  witli  Tvarm  spiritunl  feeling:; 
ID  Dr.  Salmon's,  wise,  w«ll-bitlatic«d 
views,  nrgcd  with  closentss  of  logic  and 
t«'niperati^  language  ;  in  Mr,  Jellft'K, 
discussions  of  iiiorrtl  dlfliriiUiea  in  Scrip- 
ture,, carried  on  by  a  mind  of  Bingulur 
analytic  jiowcr,  and  pUiwir^f^  witb  a 
noble  pnB.sioii  fwr  triiili.*  Tlic  separate 
publication  of  iwo  strnionB  by  Dr.  Hal- 
mon,  on  ibe  pnijiful  siiUjuct  of  Klemn! 
Pimisbaieiit,  dn;w'  f-ortb  from  another 
Fellow  of  Trinity  Colliage,  Mr.  Barlow, 
an  essay  in  opposition  to  tlie  rucdvcd 
doctrine,  vifforonsly  bnt  not  ternperattdy 
written;  tlisi  syinpatliy  which  he  ex- 
cites by  bis  generous  fueling  for  ctliicol 
rectituaa  being  checked  by  a  Irentmunl 
of  his  opponents  wUicb  Ih  certainly 
not  generous.  The  view  he  ndvocatcs 
IB  that  in  tbe  cuee  of  th*  worst  sin- 
ners anniJiilntion  follows  npou  puuiish- 
nient.  To  this  essay  I'r.  Sidney  Smith 
haa  piibliahetl  a  reply,  confined  to  the 
ground  of  Scripture,  t^areflJlly  and  well 

£mt  tojjetlier.  f^iiie  tiarogriipli  we  ■eaiiiuit 
lut  regret,  in  wliich  he  appe-ard  to  countu- 
ftaric*  the  notion  that  the  niornlity  of 
Deity  may  be  Jiffit'renL  from  ttia:  of 
man.  Mr.  Sherlock,  a  junior  meinhi?r 
of  the  college,  answers  Mr.  Barlow  at 

*  "SermcraB  prpochcil  in  the  Chapf!  tX 
Trinity  Ciillfge,  Dublin,  Ijt  thi' lole  Tlioniiis 
Mnt'Si'pro,  D,I>."     (L[i)ilf,'L'9  iind  Hniilh.) 

'■  SgriHous  preJLeht'4  in  the  Chft|iell  of 
Trinity  Coll ogf.  Dublin,  bvCJeorge  Salmon, 
D.D;'     fllDdeei,-  and  Smith,) 

" '  Shall  not  the  J  uJgu  of  all  Iho  Earth  <Io 
Kight?'  Three  Somiona  prundiuil  in  flu 
Chajwl  of  Trinity  CollfRe.  Dublin,  tv  ToLn 
II.  Jdlet,  A.M."     (UodgM  and  l^raiLh.J 

"The  Suffi-rini^  of  the  llighttous.  Two 
Scniioii.s  prfacliL-d  bi^fora  the  Univendly  of 
DuhliT..  In-  .r,j]ia  II.  Mtet,  A.M."  (Ilodgta 
atid  Smith.) 


greater  length,  and  with  a  wider  raDgf 
of  arf^unients.  1  f  bis  wurk  has  aomC  of 
the  faultfl  of  a  yfiiinir  cnntroverBialial,  it 
shows  at  the  same  time  eilensire  rearl> 
ing,  careful  thongbl,  nii;I  n  Itindly  apiril. 
A  second  etlition  of  Lir,  Salmon's  two 
ncfmons  also  contains  replies  to  some  of 
Mr.  Ua-rtow's  nrf^ments.  To  aH  tbese 
aTiBwers  Mr.  Barlow  baa  ri>centiy  pub- 
lished a  rejoinder."  Dr.  Butcher  has 
edited  a  volume  of  Sermons  by  the  late 
Rev.  Alexander  Pollock,  wliieh  bwir 
testimony  to  his  ability  and  pielj'.  Id 
Euclcsiaalical  Antiquity,  we  note  Dr. 
Todd's  "  yt.  Patnck,  Apostle  of  Ireland : 
a  Memoir  of  his  Life  and  Mi»eioDi"  ■ 
careful  und  valuable  work  ;  and,  edited 
by  the  name  author,  "The  WaldeaBiaa 
^lallUfi■c^iptB  prcaervcd  in  the  Library 
of  Trinity  College,  Dublin  ;  with  ni 
Appenihx,  containing  a  Correspondence 
on  tlie  Poems  of  the  Poor  of  Lyons,  tfio 
Antiquities  and  Genuineness  of  tlis 
Waldetisian  LiteratiirCr  Anil  Ihie  Biiji- 
poscdl  Ld£^  of  the  Morland  MI:>S.  it 
Cambridge : "  —  in  EcolesiA6tical  Law, 
Mr.  C.  Tud<J"8  "  ObfiervatioRs  on  the 
J udgmcnt  of  the  J iidiciiLl  Committer 
nf  the  Privy  (Jouneil,  in  the  vhkc  u£ 
Di^hop  Colouso  v.  the  Bishop  of  Cape- 
town." 

ifntural  Science. 

A  m-ost  ititero.'^ting  lecture  upon  "  Tlie 
Cliniate  of  Ireland,  and  the  Currents 
of  the  Atlantic,"  (Do^J^es)  baa  been 
pnliliF^hvd  by  that  i^iiiinent  natural  phi- 
losopher, Dr.  Lloyd,  tlic  Vice  Provort 
of  Trinity  College,  Dublin.  It  dt-alll 
Avitli  the  dial rihil tin n  of  tcmperattire  KS 
affcctiiiR  the  growth  of  I'lants  and  thB 
health  of  man.  Some  of  the  fncts 
mentioned  are  t^i  much  practical  Yalm?; 
for  instance,  with  regard  to  the  limits 
of  the  cultivation  of  wheat,  tht  result 
is  stated  that — 

•  '"The  Eternity  of  Future  ruiushmrnC' 

and  'The  PIul*  wluch  this  Dottrine  oupht 
to  hold  in  Chmtian  ProacbinK/  Two  Hw- 
aiOfiA  liy  Gforgo  Sidmon,  U.I>."  {llodgea 
and  Smith-) 

"£teinn.l  PimishnLt'nt  and  Eternal  Dealli: 
au  Essny.  By  Jamw  W-  Barlow,  M-A." 
(I^uneman.) 

"Ihe   Doctrine  of  Etemii!   I'nniithmcnt , 
ciaminh-d  <'bii-fly  in  ri'lnti'^n  in  th<^  Twti-" 
mcKic    ol'    .SiTijituru.      liy     li(">.>ri:o    Sidm-J 
Smith.  D.D,"     (tiocirgc  ]Ierl".Tt,) 

"An  liaaav  on  Future  Puuishnicnl.  ]3j 
W.  Sherlock;  U.A.'"    (Loiiijnian,) 

"  Reiiiurkg  on  somu  R«.-crnt  PuliliMtioM 
eoneeminji  Futurti  I'lLninbrneiit.  Hv  Jsmos 
W.  Barlow,  M.A.,  F.I.C.lJ."     (M'Gce.) 


4 

I 


Notes  front  Ireland, 


495 


"  The  lowest  summer  temperaturo  at  which 
wheat  can  be  luccesafully  cultivat«d  in 
England  is  only  2°  below  the  mean ;  and  as 
the  mean  summer  temperature  of  England  is 
GO",  it  follows  that  the  minimum  for  wheat 
is  58",  or,  with  advantages  of  soil  and  other 
circumstances,  bl".  In  Ireland  the  mean 
temperature  of  the  three  summer  months  is 
£8" ;  and  accordingly,  for  places  about  the 
centra  of  Ireland,  a  deficiency  of  a  nViyfe 
dtgree  of  summer  temperature  brings  us  to 
the  very  limit  of  wheat  cultivation,  while  a 
greater  deficiency  a  fatal  to  the  crop." 

The  coDClusion  drawD  is,  that  it  is  con- 
trary to  the  rules  of  all  sound  experience 
to  attempt  the  culture  of  this  cereal  in 
.  Ireland,  except  in  the  most  favoured 
localities.  On  the  other  hand,  the  abso- 
Inte  miQimum  of  mortality  as  dependent 
on  climate,  is  calculated  to  be  at  the 
weatem  extremity  of  the  yearly  isother- 
mal of  60" — i.e.,  in  Ireland, — a  conclu- 
sion borne  out  by  the  facts.  The  average 
mortality  of  Ireland,  so  far  as  it  can  be 
determined  by  the  imperfect  method  of 
a  decennial  census,  is  21  per  1000,  that  of 
England  being  22.  Many  other  interest- 
ing facta  are  to  be  found  in  this  lecture. 

General  Literature. 

The  pnblication  of  the  first  volnme 
of  the  Brehon  Laws,  by  the  Commis- 
ision  appointed  for  the  purpose,  is 
worthy  of  record.  These  ancient  laws 
of  Ireland  appear  to  have  been  in 
force  more  or  less  extensively  from 
the  early  part  of  the  fifth  century 
down  to  the  time  of  the  Stuarts.  They 
are  exceedingly  interesting  for  the  light 
they  throw  on  the  antiquities  of  the 
Celtic  race  at  large,  and  especially  on  the 
notions  with  regard  to  property  and  civil 
duties  from  which  they  drew  their  origin 
— notions  which  they  tended  to  consoli- 
date, and  which  exert,  even  at  the  present 
day,  an  infiuence  upon  the  peasantry  of 
the  country  counteractive  to  English  law 
and  English  customs.  Most  minute  are 
the  details  to  which  these  laws  conde- 
scend ;  and  the  varieties  which  they  es- 
tablish in  obligations  and  penalties, 
according  to  the  different  classes  and 
individuala  to  whom  they  apply,  are  very 
numerous.  Of  these  classes  we  may 
mention  bards  as  one  which  possessed 
distinct  rights,  and  judges  as  persons 
held  in  the  highest  honour,  and  corre- 
Epondingly  pririlegcd,  AH  members  of 
a  sept  were  considered  to  be  entitled  to 
support  from  the  land  over  which  a  chief 
liad  predominant  nilc,  tiud  were  boimd 


to  render  him  service  both  in  peace  and 
war,  while  he  was  under  obligation  to 
them  in  the  way  of  enabling  them  to 
stock  their  farms.  It  is  to  be  noted  that 
amidst  many  regulations  that,  judged  by 
modem  ideas,  seem  trivial  and  even 
absurd,  there  are  not  a  few  which  are 
marked  by  true  humanity  and  a  delicate 
consideration  for  the  feelinp  of  all,  even 
the  very  poorest.  A  careful  and  detailed 
review  of  this  volume,  contributed  to  the 
Revue  des  deux  Mondes  for  November 
last,  by  M.  de  Lasteyrie,  points  to  these 
provisions  as  affording  lessons  worthy  of 
general  regwd  at  the  present  day,  and  as 
indicating  that  with  a  people  so  sympa- 
thetic as  the  Irish,  and  who  feel  personal 
ties  BO  deeply,  the  adoption  of  a  mode  of 
treatment  which  appealed  to  this  part 
of  their  character  might  conduce  to  far 
happier  effects  than  have  been  attained 
by  consigning  them  to  the  mere  opera- 
tion of  the  laws  of  political  economy,  on 
which  now  too  exclusive  a  reliance  Beems 
to  be  placed.  It  is,  we  believe,  quite  a 
mistake  to  suppose  that  the  Feniau 
movement  is  simply  a  Jacobinical  one, 
hostile  to  property,  and  having  only  pil- 
lage in  view.  We  regret  to  say  it  is  toO' 
widely  sympathized  with  by  the  shop- 
keeping  and  lower  middle  clasaes- 
throughout  the  country,  particularly 
in  the  towns,  to  allow  of  this  theory 
being  correct.  A  little  green  volume- 
published  in  the  course  of  last  year, 
and  entitled  "Street  Ballads,  Popular 
Poetry,  and  Household  Songs  of  Ire- 
land'' (M'Gloshan  and  Gill),  contains 
abundant  proof  that  a  mistaken  spirit 
of  patriotism  pervades  the  population, 
and  gives  the  support  of  excited  feel- 
ing to  the  present  blind  and  insane  dis- 
turbance. Charles  Kickham  (Phcebns  I 
what  a  name  I),  one  of  the  three  execu- 
tive officers  of  the  Fenian  Brotherhood 
— the  deaf  man  whom  it  gave  Judge 
Keogh  such  pain  to  sentence  to  ten  years' 

fienal  servitude — will  bo  found  in  the 
ist  of  contributors  to  this  volume,  with 
four  poems  attached  to  his  name.  One 
of  these,  "The  Shan  Van  Vocht,"  is 
thoroughly  rebellious,  filled  with  antici- 
pation of  a  friendly  invaeion  from 
America: — 

"  There  are  ships  upon  the  sea, 

Says  the  Shan  Van  Vocht ; 
There  are  good  ships  on  the  sea, 

Says  the  Shan  Van  Vocht ; 
Oh,  they're  sailing  o'er  the  sea, 
From  a  land  where  all  are  ti^e, 
With  a  freight  that's  dear  to  me, 

Says  the  Shan  Von  Vocht. 


496 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


"  Thioy  are  cMniitg  from  the  West, 

Soyi  tie  Shan  Van  Vooht; 
And  th?  Aug  wq  lovo  the  best, 

Suva  the  Shsii  V(in  Voeht, 
Wjivhs  piDiidlj  ill  the  likst, 
And  t]]L<y'i/L>  Eiulcd  it  tu  the  mnst  : 
Long  tlircnh!uiiig  coiu-ss  itt  Vast., 

Sayu  tliL'  Shan  Van  \"otht. 

'"Twaa  weU  O'Connell  Buid, 

Snya  tki"  Shim  Van  Votht, 
^  My  limd,  whpQ  I  fcm  dund,' 

Saya  the  Slmn  \  an  Vocht, 
'  A  moe  irill  Iread  your  jjlains, 
With  tot  blood  in  their  vein*, 
Who  will  liui^t  your  goUmg  chuiu,' 
Says  the  Shnn  Van  Vocht. 

"  For  thuBfl  words  we  love  hia  noms, 
Says  tlie  Slian  \'nii  Vc)cht, 
Afiii  ItBland  .^lurds  his  laine, 

Says  the  'SIiBn  Van  Voflhtj 
And  how  her  poor  hetut  fell 
Tho  day  aho  buotd  hia  knell  J 
Foi  she  kiLuw  hu  lovtd  het  woEI, 

Saya  thi)  Shan  Von  Vocht. 

"  But  tto  good  old  fauso  ttbs  haimed, 
Snyfl  thp  Shan  Ton  Vocht, 
By  Blcek  elavc  uud  tiiUtOr  bland, 

SnvH  the  Shan  \'an  A'orht. 
Ah!  th9n  Htrtyed  to  forpigti  strand 
TmcL  and  Voiour  from  omi  lund, 
Tha  stout  heart  rmd  rtndv  himd, 

Saya  the  Shnu  Vftu  Vocht. 

*'  But  with  coumgo  undlamayed, 

J^ays  the  Sfian  \!va  Vflcht, 
Tfi*sc  eiilca  walthcd  fmd  prayed. 

Says  tho  Shnn  Van  Vocht ; 
Por  though  trBui]ili)d  to  (he  dllat, 
ITiBtr  cttasfl  they  know  waa  just, 
And  in  God  thoy  put  thoir  tmat. 

Says  the  Shan  Van  Vocht. 

"  Aud  now,  if  yc  be  men, 

JSaya  thi'  Shan  Van  Vocht, 
"We'll  havo  thi^ci  bnrk  D,p!Lm, 

Saya  the  Shnn  Van  Vocht, 
"With  pil»  and  guns  gnloKj; 
And  whca  they  touch  her  shore, 
ircisndfl  free  for  evermore, 

Soyi  the  Shall  Van  Vocht." 

Another  poGm,  "The  Irish  Peasant 
Girl,"  niaoileiitB  a  tendcrinjaB  of  feeling, 
and  a  acnee  of  beauty,  wluLh  make  ns 
grieve  over  tlifl  fate  which  his  deluaions 
bflve  brought  upon  the  author  :— 

**  She  lived  boeidi;  the  Anner, 

At  tho  foot  ol'  Sliev-nfl'mOiii 
A  j^cntlc  pt'aaaiit  girl, 

With  nitid  eyes  like  the  dawn: 
Her  lips  were  dewy  roaubudfl ; 

Her  toeth  of  pc-ark  rare ; 
And  a  tnoic-drifi  'iienth  a  fHrrhen  fioit^h, 

Her  iii-rli  and  iLut-bimrn  hair. 


"  How  pleaeant  'twas  to  nwet  her 

On  Sunday,  when  the  bi;!l 
Wai)  (illinft  with  i\a  fnatlow  tonea 

I-ono  wood  and  i^asgy  deEl ! 
And  ivbcD  nt  ere  yoimg  maidens 

Stnivi'd  Ihi!  river-bnnV  ulgug. 
The  wiJo-w'a  browa-haired  daughter 

Was  loveliest  of  tho  throfig, 

"  0  hitive,  brave  Irish  girla — 

Wo  wcU  may  call  yon  hrsTe ! — 
Bute  the  least  of  all  youirperilB 

I*  the  Htormy  ocean  ware. 
When  you  leave  our  quiet  falleya, 

And  crosa  the  Atlantic's  foam. 
To  hoard  your  hani-woa  i^aminga 

For  the  helpless  ontg  nt  home. 

* ' '  Writt!  vart  to  my  own  dear  Mother^ 

Say,  we'll  meet  with  God  abwre ; 
And  tell  my  Ultlu  brothers 

I  aund  tUeni  all  luy  love ; 
May  the  angiiiU  vtct  guard  thetn. 

la  their  ilj.'tQs  aLrtor's  prayer  ' — 
And  folded  m  tho  letter 

Was  a  brsiid  of  nut-browD  hair. 

"  Ah,  eold,  and  wcU-atgh  call<>ns. 

This  weary  heart  hits  grown, 
Fur  thy  helplcsa  fate,  dear  Irdund, 

And  fur  sorrows  of  my  own  ; 
Tct  a  tear  my  eye  will  moisten. 

When  by  Aimer  side  I  stray. 
For  the  lily  of  the  inonntBia-foot 

That  withered  furav-ay ." 

Tho  collection  contains  many  piec«a  of 
much  poetiL-  merit  and  intereM  :  all  are 
more  or  less  tinctured  with  the  ^ma 
spirit,  rc^c-tful  or  jDpiriDg,  alwaya  die- 
contetited. 

To  turn  to  poetry  of  n  ditfercn 
kind :  a  volume  of  the  compoeitio 
mi  u  lamented  youni:  mno,  Mr.  Edminnr 
J.  Aniifitrong  (Aloxun),  has  been  recently 
given  to  tho  world  liy  a  fricn.l  who,  i 
an  interesting  profuci;,  Hisctobua  his  bl 
liant  eolle;;e  career,  and  the  strugglca 
his  s^\r\\  tUroiij,'h  scepticism  to  a  ■con 
firmed  Chriatinn  faitli.  His  poema  hart' ' 
miiiiy  of  the  futdts  of  youth — these  wo 
need  not  fiftit[cii!aHi-.e  ;  hut  they  are  fiUl 
of  evideiiccH  of  elevated  Uiought  ami 
keen  eenaibdity,  and  moreover,  exhibit  a 
faculty  of  refined  and  forcible  exptcs- 
Bion,  and  a  fcclinj;  for  poetic  liarmoiiv, 
thut  breathe  a  prophecy  (Rdt  here  to  b« 
fulhlleil}  of  iiialurer  eieellfloce.  Ws 
believe  our  readers  will  tbonk  us  for 

a  noting  SB   a   specimet*    the    followiug 
eticription  of  the  music  of  the  "  Dead 
March  in  Sa.ul  :"— 

"The  strain  they  played  ubore  ihy  grau- 
Givoa  ecmifort,  as  n  sighing^  wind, 
Or  the  mpfin  of  a  falliu|ur  wave, 

Brings  Eulnc-c  la  the  blind  : 


iimd        1 
ntly , 

COR-^H 


V 


Tie  atnun  they  playod  nbove  thy  puve, 

■With  solemn  jKiniji  and  muffled  dnmi, 

Within  in}-  *oul  srill  go  nlld  touiQ 

For  ever — spirit'thrilliap  wail, 

That  maksa  the  Lapiiicfit  cbiMjl;  turn  ytiv, 

And  the  WRi-mest  "blooil  run  cold  ; 

Wave  oil  way.',  and  fold  uu  fold. 

Like  8  sttimi-biown  ocean  rolled, 

Difkcd  on  viiit  tiiul  i»'uniL  ^)(}M 

tn  thundt-r  :  deep  nwd  wild  thv  WM 

Of  the  music's  troubleil  £!ow! 

Kow  it  strikes  upon  Uio  Jtgn] 

LU(l'  tlie  cifilth-boll'B  awful  ■toll; 

Now  uiMJii  tbfJ  suiiflcs  fnll 

SbiJowa  liki'  a  fuaeral  poll ; 

Now  tbe  piilaes  dnnH)  and  cjiuTef 

Like  the  BiLD  on  a  glancing  river 

Kow  iha  heart  grdWB  faLtit  (jn4  aicV. 

And  tbe  brcfltb  ia  elon-  and  thick, 

And  a  -whirTiiig  lills  tbp  farfl. 

And  the  eyps  are  dimmod  with  teara  ; 

Fluung  wild  and  d(«p  ttc  wov : 

Of  the  iniuic'a  troubled  flow ! 

Till  Di  siLddeii  blBflt  iii  blovn, 

A  jubilant  and  sturttLg  tone, 

Lining  up  iIh.'  swooninf^  heart 

Villi  bighuBl,  holiodt  juy — 
Fnitb  tins  triumphed  oTcr  dwith. 

And  nothing  can  the  bli^  deBtwy." 

With  ttiia  monmful  but  elevating 
music  in  our  eora,  we  pnss  (o  two  other 
mcHiorial  notices,  with  which  wb  must 
conclude  our  ciireoiy  record  of  gucli 
Irub  matters  as  Pomc  witliin  our  ranf^e. 
Scienre  and  ArchKologj'  Lave  recently 
bcendopriveii  of  their  most  iliNtinguished 
Irish  reprtaiintatiTCS,  Tho  death  of  Sir 
William  Ko^-an  Hamilton,  in  ScptQmbcr 
last,  has  b*en  followod  within  the  prc- 
yoM  by  that  of  Dr.  Putrie.  Few 
hare  ever  been  mourned  with  a 
regret  mare  siucGre  than  that  whiclt  on 
th«  2'2[iil  oi  JaiHiarj'  gathered  arouod 
the  tomb  of  Petrie  n  niimcroua  asseto- 
blage  eomjiosecl  of  luauy  of  ilie  most 
emitioQt  of  Irelnmi'H  eons.  Ho  waa 
ind^fl  dear  to  nil  who  kiiow  b'm.  His 
flowing  ]ovka  of  Tenerable  grey,  bis 
countenance,  id  which  sweetoew,  iiit«!U- 
genco.  and  decision  were  beautifTilly 
aiiogEtid,  prc^euterj  an  ima^c  whiuh  will 
be  cbti'islicd  in  tht  memory  of  all  who 
had  opjKirtuiiitieB  of  knawin^^  how  ?n- 
tirrlv  it  was  in  harraooy  with  a  mind 
which  aeemed  by  a  epecitil  instinct  to  be 
attracted  tu  evcrytliitig  that  was  true  and 
LUtiful  and  aukiabk.  HiE  value  rh  a 
mtuber  of  citltiratod  Hoiuely  in  Irclnitd 
wns  inestimable,  and  if  it  does  nut  e-uffcr 
permnDently  by  his  lo&s,  it  wtU  be,  we 
faelievp,  in  no  Gmnll  degree  because  his 
iniluence  ha£  succeeded  In  impartinj;;  a 
tone  of  gentle  trutlifulnees,  and  of  ^ace- 
fill  ttU'd  sjiiritcd,  but  at  thu  eamc  time 


^     Irish 

m  Will 


re.'isonablo  nationality,  to  the  circle  of 
whicU  he  was  tho  delig'ht  and  ornament. 
With  all  the  geoial  qualities  of  tbe  Irish- 
man,  li«  jouied  a  scrupwious  acCoracy  US 
to  facts,  a  dfllibtirntion  in  judgment,  a 
severity  in  toHte,  a.  mcwletit  quictacfis  o£ 
hejifing,  which  arc  more  uanally  nsaoci- 
ttted  with  the   English  character.     His 
accompli&hmontH  and  attainments  wura 
varied,     Uq  was  painter,  musician,  anti- 
quary, man  of  letters ;  and  b^rouglit  all 
these  eLccompUfi^hments  into  liiU'monii'.ing 
aetioii.    In  his  landficancs,  while  not  ,a 
vivid  colouriet,  he  maaifct^ted  an  imagED- 
ative  sense  of  the  picturesque,  and  anti- 
cipated the  modern  school  in  his  faitbful 
attontion  to  the  minute  details  of  nature. 
We  suppose  tbat  by  no  other  individual 
was  Ireland  so  thoroughly  known.    From 
his  earliest   yeura   a  frequent  rover  on 
foot  through  all  its  re&essefi,  be  gatbRrcd 
from  its  naUiral  features  and  imjiresaive 
ruins  varied  ttubjecta  for  his  brush  ;  of 
native  melodiea  aunj^  by  peasant  girht, 
or  played  at  festival  and  wnhe,  he  trans- 
ferred to  his  violin,  and  then  to  his  note- 
book, many  liundredE,  souie  of  which  he 
has  published,  while  more  remain  in 
manuscript ;  and  ho  gained  a  knowledge 
of  antiquities,  Celtic,  DaniBh  and  Nor- 
wegian, Pagan  and  Christian,  of  which 
ho    learned  accurately   to   di^crirajiiute' 
their  ages,  and  which  he  either  saved,  if 
small,  from  perishing,  and  added  to  his 
precious  milscum,  or  placed   on   record 
through  the  instrumentality  of  hia  mi- 
nutely faithful  pencil  or  truthfully  df- 
scribing    jien.      He  was  not,  that   wo 
know,  a  composer  of  versa,  but  he  was 
of  an  eminently  poetic  mind,  at  tiiQ  leaut 
ft  "  silent  poet,"   and  when  bis  Hvmpu- 
thizers  in  Ireland  were  probahly  within  a 
score  in  number,  conceived  a  prkssion  for 
the  poetry  of  Wordsworth,  which  con- 
tinued frcwli  and  wann  to  his  very  latest 
days.      His.  principal    works   were   hia 
"  Eanay  on  tlie  Eeclesinstical  Architec- 
tiire  of  Ireland,"  in  which  ho  catahlishea 
the  Christian  origin  of  the  Uoand  Tower*; 
ft  similar "'  Essay  on  the  Ui.'itory  and  Anti- 
quities of  Tara  Hill ;"  and  other  papers 
cuTitributod  to  the  Transactions  of  the 
Boyal  Irish  Academy,  of  which  he  siib- 
Mflqueatly  became  a  Vice-President.     Aa 
joint  editor  of  TJy  Dtthlln  Peimr}  Jotir- 
■nfi-lf   he   supplied   that  cheap  periodical 
with  ■miuierous  wontributionB  iilustrnled 
by  himstflf,  doucribiug  njany  of  the  mr)st 
intei^sting  ruins  and  ancient  reliqin's  of 
Ireland  ;  these  papers  have  adiled  a  value 
to  the  book  which  make^  it  now  sougitt 
for,  laid  up,  and  rcfeixed  to  as  a  standard 


^ 


Tke  Conieviporary  Review. 


work.  Ho  receivGd  many  recognitions  of 
his  II  [  tail  im  on  is  aod  literary  semcee, — 
EomB  of  tlipm  fTOTJi  »l>roa".l, — uniJ  iliirini; 
liift  latter  years  lived  in  quiet  retirement 
with  four  dftuglitierBi,  upon  a  pension  of 
£200  a  ]-ear^  bestowed  upon  liini  in 
18.W,  by  the  fipprecinting  judgment  of 
the  pneBent  jtreniitT,  Ho  hat!  reached 
We  aeveoty-fiixth  year. 

In  Sir  William  Hamilton,  jfhe  late 
Astrononivr  Royal  o-f  IrelAnd,  bnti 
prtssed  from  earth  a  great  mathemuti- 
cii^n  and  a  iLuin  of  rare  genius.  He 
%yaB  endowed  Iti  the  higlieat  dtgrtC  witli 
tlie  faculty  of  generdizatioD,  and  he 
wielded  tliis  faculty  witLi  A  giant's 
power  over  the  fields  of  optics,  dy- 
namics, and  pure  algebra.  His  "  Theory 
of  SvBteniB  of  Roys  "  was  said  ty  one 
of  our  liighest  autliorities  to  have  trana- 
f&rmed  the  ecienco  of  mathematical 
optics,  and  it  l?d  to  hin  aliaost  uapnral- 
leled  adentific  Projiliccy  of  Coniciil  lie- 
fraction.  His  application  of  the  name 
general  algebraical  m>Glbod  to  dynami(.'5 
resulted  in  iLie  Eolutiou  of  ditlicul(i>^H 
previonaly  unHHrmountcd  in  that  branch 
□f  Kcienco;  and  hispa{>cron  "Algebra 
aa  the  Scieoct  of  Pure  Time  "  haft  pte- 
aented  to  the  Btudont  a  metaphyeical 
vi^W  of  algebra,  by  which  he  ia  Con- 
sidered to  liavo  miecd  it  above  the  rank 
of  a  mere  ni't  or  language,  and  to  have 
CBtaliliehed  its  tllle  to  the  appelktion  of 
a  science.  TUia  ia  not  the  place  to 
enumerate  his  m^ny  other  vnluaUe 
mathematical  papers,  hitt  we  rauet  not 
leave  unmenlioned  Ihe  latest  triumph  of 
his  Tuatliemnticjd  gcniufi,  the  diGCD\ery 
of  "IJiiatcmionB,"  a  name  by  which  !io 
has  designated  a  new  and  vastly  ex- 
tended talculua,  which,  by  meaus  of  its 
four  ccniBtitwent  elements,  la  able  to 
grasp  lines  not  confined  to  one  plane,  as 
in  ordiiiary  algebra,  but  drawn  in  all 
possible  planes.  H^;  hiniiielf  has  sng- 
geated,  aa  applieaHdC'  to  this  colciilue,  thu 
LQtne  of  qi/afli-iijih  algebra,  which  sceniti 
rather  more  explanatory  of  its  nature 
than  that  which,  perhapK  in  rnDdesiy,  ho 
has  preferred.  It  ia  phiioly  imposgiblo 
even  to  guess  at  the  remillB  whieh  may 
be  hereafter  attained  by  the  practised 
use  of  BO  powerful  an  inBlniracn!-,  the 
discovery  of  which  ljai«  been  pronountei.!, 
in  an  able  article  of  thui  North  AmcH- 
CrtM  Review,  to  be  the  "niaxiunis  ])artn8 
Kcientin'"  sinee  the  tiiBCOverj-of  Huxione. 
Sir  W.  H.'a  genius  was  not  continod  to 
Bialh^iDaticnl  generalization.     It  dwelt 


familiarly  in  the  recosses  of  tnet&bbysii 
thought,  it  aiafitored  wtili  ease  in  early 
life  numerotm.  Lingiiages,  it  ranged 
freely  o\'er  the  regioitti  of  clasfiicai  and 
modern  literature,  and  was  essentially 
poetical,  aa  be  bimBelf  considerea 
to  be  indicated  by  the  inventive  cha- 
racter of  Ilia  oiolhematical  ■works,  sb 
well  as  hy  verae  compositions,  which 
gave  fervid  and  oftentimca  beautiful 
expression  to  the  impulses  of  a  generooa 
and  affettionati?  heart.  Simple  aa  k 
child,  but  manly  and  o&ui^gcou^,  var- 
a&ai  and  laborious,  his  senona  ihotighUi 
were  happily  tempered  by  a  cheerful 
dieposition,  and  n  quick  aenec  of  humour 
and  fooirU  pie iwu illness.  With  certain 
weaknesses,  which  iio  cared  not.  to  con- 
ceal, he  waf«  a  Nincerely,  even  a  durouUyi 
religions  man,  settled  in  Chrietian  faith,' 
hut  wide  in  his  aympflthiefl  ;  neither,  on 
the  onQ  hand,,  refusing  juet  coneidera- 
tion  to  the  re.sultH  of  modem  tliought, 
nor,  on  the  other,  lelaxing  his  hold  of 
what  ho  conaidered  the  established  his- 
torical (ruth  and  ineatimiible  spiritual 
value  of  Chrifitiftnity.  lie  died  cf  a 
hronehitic  affection  at  the  age  of  sixty, 
leaving  to  Li6  eountrj-  a  niemorj-  which, 
we  venture  to  predict,  will  be  fresh  aaiF 
green  after  the  lapse  of  centuries. 
work,  neatly  completed  at  the  time 
his  <leatlj,  entitled  "  The  Elements 
Quaternions,"  is  on  the  point  of  publicB- 
tion.  It  K  tho  second  on  thia  subject 
It  will  be  followed.  We  have  reason  lo 
hope,  in  due  time  by  a  biographicAl 
memoir,  including  correspondence,  by  an 
orderly  arrangement  of  his  poema,  bift 
U-cturcs,  his  melaph)'»icHl  and  bi«  othi 
miscelhuieous  wricinga,  and,  lastly,  by 
republication  of  sonic  of  his  Gcieuti'' 
workH,  in  combination  with  others  lo 
gleaned  from  the  niannscript  book* 
which  have  been  deposited  in  the  library 
of  Trinity  College.  In  the  raeantnpe 
we  refer  our  readers,  for  further  infor- 
mation respecting  this  great  man  and 
his  works,  to  an  admirable  Eloge  recently 
delivored  by  Dean  Grave);,  as  I'reetdeut 
of  tiio  Royal  Irish  Academy  ;  to  an  obit- 
iiaiy  notice  in  the  GeiUk'maii'is  3Iaffa- 
zine  for  .lanoarj',  in  which  U'e  Irs. 
till!  able  hand  of  Professor  L»e  MorgH 
and  to  a  longer  memoir  in  the  Dii 
Uniwmfif  Mafjei^tM  for  January,  1 
Sir  William  Hamilton's  successor 
AHtronomer  iioyuL  ie  Dr.  llrlin 
formerly  astiislant  to  Enckc  at 
Obacri'nioTy  of  Berlin. 


»- 
ct. 
lo 

an 

]i« I 

I 


NOTES  FROM  ROME. 


;  vinter  is  Rome  has  thos  far 
eeD  extraordinarily  fine,  with  an- 
ptedly  clear  weather,  blue  sky,  and 
esome  tramontana  present.  The 
IS  not  veered  a  point  for  more  than 
th ;  and  as  there  is  only  a  faint 
if  rosy  Enow  on  the  upper  line  of 
onesBB,  the  atmogphere  has  been 
■fection  of  winter  weather — brae- 
)t  too  cold,  windless,  with  clear 
ng  nighte,  and  days  warmed  by 
tant  sun.  Yesterday,  however, 
came  a  violent,  passionate  gale 
lie  sea,  with  thunder  and  liglit- 
od  haii — a  sort  of  nervous  crisis 
Boon  spent  itself  in  fury,  and  has 
jcome  again  calm, 
qaarantiae  is  over,  and  the  foolish 
ijnrious  fumigation,  to  which  all 
JIB  were  subjected,  has  ceased.  Not 
e  case  of  cholera  has  shown  itself 
ne;  and  were  it  not  for  the  un- 
ite fact  that  Florence  also  has 
Kjually  free,  without  quarantine, 
Jiis  scourge,  it  would  Imve  been 
alleged,  as  it  is  BUperstitiously  be- 
in  private  by  the  priests,  that  the 
9  and  religious  faith  of  the  faith- 
)De  have  preserved  the  Eternal 
The  quarantine  was  not,  however, 
)Ded  until  it  had  worked  a  sf-rious 
enience  to  the  commerce  of  lEonie. 
^tom  House  is  still  tilled  with 


goods,  which  accumulated  in  such  qoan- 
tities  in  consequence  of  their  detention 
at  Civita  Vecchia,  or  in  the  purgation- 
houses,  that  a  considerable  time  will  be 
required  before  they  can  be  all  examinee) 
and  passed.  Meantime  the  season  is 
going ;  Christmas  and  New  Year's  day 
are  gone,  and  the  chances  of  selling 
profitably  the  goods  daily  lessen. 

The  encouragement  to  commerce  and 
enterprise  is  certainly  very  small  in 
Rome ;  and  a  singular  indication  of 
the  spirit  of  the  Government  has  lately 
come  under  ray  notice.  There  is  a 
regular  trade  carried  on  between  Leg- 
horn and  Rome,  by  means  of  small 
sailing  vessels  which  come  up  the  Tiber 
laden  with  marble  and  other  merchan- 
dise. These  vessels,  however,  instead 
of  being  allowed  to  come  up  the  Tiber 
freely,  are  regularly  detained  at  Fiumi- 
cino  (at  the  moutti  of  the  river),  and 
permitted  only  to  ascend  the  river  one 
at  a  time  in  rotation.  The  consequence 
is,  that  they  are  often  delayed  there  for 
weeks,  exposed  to  accident,  incurring 
expenses,  and  wasting  time.  The  sailors, 
having  nothing  to  do,  arc  naturally 
tempted  to  examine,  as  far  as  they  can, 
the  cargo  ;  and  being  a  reckless  and  not 
very  honest  class,  packages  and  tninks 
are  not  unfrequently  violated  by  them, 
and  articles  of  value  are  stolen. 


500 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


The  cKangeB  in  the  ministry  have  hud 
a  decidt'd  effect  on  brigandng'c*.  It  is 
well  known  here  tbat  Monaignor  de 
Msrodo  was  favoiirable  to  nny  movG- 
ment  tbat  niighc  in  hJB  opinion  Borvc 
tbe  (.'aiiae  of  the  former  kingn  of  Najiles, 
and  injuriouslv  nffcpt  that  of  Victor 
EmmtLDuie].  llo  coiiuottcJ  witl)  the  bn- 
gftuda ;  lent  thcjn  countenance;  and 
while  lie  mads  feints  of  attacking  them, 
he  secretly  Lncowmged  tli"?™!.  A  final 
order  gf  his  to  liis  mibordiuatea  not  to 
utEac'k  a  certaiu  linnd  XVus  too  ^T06iS  to 
be  paSBcd  over ;  and  ibe  Pope  was  com- 

Celicd  to  announce  to  him  tliat  liis 
coltli  rcijiiIrL'd  a  change  of  iiir  and 
of  duty.  Monsiguor  do  Merode  wae 
exaeperatGd  beyond  bounds  at  this  inti- 
niution  ;  declared  his  liMtltli  to  bo  ex- 
cellent, and)  H8  far  as  he  could,  refuBed 
to  abondoi]  his  poKt.  But  the  Pope 
peTsisted ;  and  though  iu  hia  ragD  Da 
Merode  is  said  lo  have  beaten  bia  head 
against  tho  wall,  he  "^ns  forced  to 
succumb,  and  his  rival,  Antonctii^  took 
his  place.  Monsignor  de  Merode  waj 
posBesecd  of  admirable  qunlitieti ;  hut  bo 
Was  hotof  tiiiHt-enlury.  He  Wiisenrnest, 
ener^'etie,  and  bigotol.  He  believed 
blindly  in  the  Uomun  Catholic  Church, 
and  be  would  bfivu  cruahfl  itw  enemica 
iritb  an  lanrelenting  spirit  had  Lu  po«- 
scBSdl  tlit-  [lOwer,  Hewoiilil  have  made 
on  adniirat'le  inqiili^ltor,  but  lie  was  a 
very  had  uiiuipiter  of  Wiir.  He  WnS 
violent  in  hifi  pit:^Hir)ii8,  blind  in  his 
prejudic€B,  and  uarroiv  in  his  opiniona; 
tint  he  waa  honest  and  oiimeyt,  While 
hia  [lolitiL'S  were  of  llio  [last,  he  be- 
longed to  the  preaenl  in  virtue  of  his 
love  uf  municipal  impruvements,  and 
hia  desire  to  embellish  and  modeniize 
Itotne,  Some  of  hia  plane  were  admir- 
able.  The  great  difficulty  was  that  the 
cost  of  carryiDg  them  o«t  rendered 
them  impracticable  for  the  liomsn  Go- 
Ternmeut;  and  nearly  all  of  them  proved 
ahortive.  He  spent  largfi  limns  of 
money,  and  depleted  the  treasury ;  but 
be  never  robbed  it  for  hie  private  yaiu ; 
on  the  contrary,  he  tlirew  into  it  a 
considerable  portion  of  his  own  pro- 
perty, and  left  oflice,  if  not  n  wiaer, 
at  teaitt  a  poorer  man  than  wheu  lie 
took  it. 

L'Eminontiesipio  Antoufllh  haa  done 
little  since  he  assumed  the  reins.  The 
withdrawal  of  the  French  garriyoos  on 
thtfronticrfl  obliged  the  Government  to 
show  its  baud,  and  its  action  ha^  cer- 
tainly been  energetic  again&t  brigandage. 


The  French  merely  performed  a  ridica- 
lous  farce  when  they  were  there.  When- 
ever an  attack  woa  ordered  against  (he 
brigands,  they  iverc  wnmed  of  their 
danger  afar  off,  by  the  ehricking  of  the 
French  tnimpets  and  the  rolling  of  the 
French  druma  ;  and  of  course  they  wore 
never  found.  It  was  n  very  rare  occur- 
rence when  a  conflict  t&ok  place  ;  and  if 
priHonera  were  taken,  tbey  were  (urned 
over  to  Hie  Rotaaii  autboritiea.  With 
MonsigTior  de  Merodo  in  command,  it  is 
easy  to  imagine  what  took,  place,  and 
whether  the  puui»limcnt  was  severe. 
Now,  however,  since  the  Ko'man  triiops 
haveaiicceeded  to  the  French,  there  hav« 
been  constant  contlicts,  aad  numbeis  of 
live«  lost  ou  both  sides.  Martial  taw 
has  heen  proclaimed,  and  many  bnganda 
have  eurrendcred.  It  ia  clear  that,  what- 
ever may  be  the  reanit,  tho  French  farce 
has  finished. 

Hut  brigandage  will  not  t«  easily  pat 
down.  It  has  been  too  long  fostered 
nod  winked  at.  And  a  long  time  must 
elapse  before  tlie  aiunt^  can  be  safe. 
Tlio  brigands  are  gathered  in  Duraeruua 
bands,  and  are  ao  [lowerfill  as  to  over- 
awe the  people.  Beaidea,  they  pay  very 
handiiomuLy  for  all  they  purchase,  and 
for  the  most  part  only  prey  upon  the 
richer  clateefi,  Theycomu  down  in  num- 
bers into  the  villages,  and  have  it  all 
their  own  way.  No  one  ilares  to  refute 
them  what  tbey  demand, — and  their  de- 
mands are  large.  Butt  whenever  Krancta 
11.  iw  pursuttfled  that  it  is  all  over  wiih 
him  and  his  cauGe,  hrigandnKe,  which  \& 
to  a  considerable  exteat  a  pohtical  or^ui- 
izntion,  will  ruLieivs  a  Bevere  blow  ;  and 
if  the  Italitm  and  Boroan  Govennm-'nts 
can  bo  brought  into  any  amicable  rela- 
tion, it  wiU  not  loug  aurvive  their  C9- 
operiYtlon, 

A  new  company  has  been  lately  formed 
for  the  purpose  of  reconstructing  the  old 
Marcian  aijiteduct,  and  again  bringing 
this  water  into  Rome.  In  a  city  so  abun- 
dantly anpplied  witb  w.iter,  and  where 
more  i«  daily  wnated  in  fountains  than 
would  serve  to  supply  a  largG  city,  this 
project  would  at  first  gliuipise  eeem  not 
to  bo  justified  by  necessity,  or  to  answer 
to  any  deuiond.  Yet  the  fact,  i«,  that 
though  there  ia  a  great  quantity  of 
water  in  Home',  it  is  all  on  a  compara- 
tively low  level,  and  h.a8  not  sufficient 
bead  to  be  varrjed  over  tho  houses  in 
the  higher  part  of  the  city.  It  bpilla 
away  in  the  stone  troughs  of  the  court- 
yards, and  bubbles  in  everj-  yard,  but  it 


I 


I 


moBt  be  pumped  to  tlio  top  of  every  house, 
or  drawn  u|i  l>y  i>ails  i  adil  to  tliis,  tliat 
tin*  ou!y  waters  which  are  rcallj"  good  to 
drink  are  [lie  Trevi,  the  level  of  which 
IB  SO  IfhW  that  it  only  supplies  the  leant 
tk'vateil  port  of  the  city;  aod  Llie  Ac^ua 
^lliiHtiiinn^  irhidi  only  flows  to  a  very 
few  houses,  and  is  very  small  in  qiina- 
tity.  The  Acqiia  Marcia  was  celehrAted 
among  the  ancieuCa  as  the  best  water 
they  had.  It  nn«3  in  the  mountaicis 
Iwyunil  Suhiaco,  about  thirty-sis  miles 
from  Kome,  and  is  said  by  I'Utiy  to  have 
lieeti  the  coldest  nad  mo»t  wholesome 
of  uU  tliftt  wore  bruiifjht  to  Homo ; 
T^bile  VitmviuB  refera  to  it  as  being 
proverliifll  fur  its  exoellcnce.  The  levol 
of  it  is  en  high  that  it  wilt  supply  tliR 
loftiest  bouses  in  the  city,  and  tlie  ijiian' 
titj-  ia  as  great  aa  it^  quality  la  good. 
Mucli  of  tlio  (lid  nqtieduut  ^ti]]  remains, 
and  it  eati  cafiily  be  restored  as  far 
05  Tivoli.  Tbeaco  it  is  tlie  desig'o  of 
the  cnnipaTiy  to  bring  it  to  Rome  by 
pipes  laid  under-ground, and  todietribulo 
]t  from  n  Vast  reservoir  near  the  city. 
The  project  is  an  adtnirable  one,  nnd  tho 
eeneral  0|>inion  in  regard  to  it  may 
be  inferred  from  the  fact  that  all  the 
sharFS  were  immedinCely  subscriheil. 
The  Govemnicnt  looka  upon  it  with 
favour,  and  iu  raady  to  ai<J  in  its  acc&rn- 
pbshmefit.  No  time  therefore  Vrill  be 
lost  in  commeneing  operations,  thoti^'h 
eome  years  must  nocessarily  pass  before 
it  caa  he  completed. 

It  has  often  been  a.  rj^aestion  whether 
the  ancient  Romana  w«ro  aware  of  the 
fact  that  wat^r  conducted  rmder-grouud 
in  pip«fi  would  find  its  level ;  the  great 
expense  incurred  in  building  their  aqiie- 
dnctd  above  ^ornid  on  lofty  Qrchea 
sectuing  to  indicate  tliat  this  fact  was 
unknowti  to  them;  uhile,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  scarcely  Geemsi  poe&ible  that 
the  first  foutftnin  constructed  by  thera 
ebouM  not  have  clearly  proved  it.  This 
que^tioti  haw,  however,  Itofin  now  deeidej 
by  the  discovery  at  Alatri,  during  the 
put  Huminer,  oE  large  ti?rr3.-cott:i  pipes, 
■dmirably  coastructed  and  cemented,  by 
which  the  watiT  sujiplying  that  town 
was  worried  under-groimd  though  the 
deep  valley  whicli  Kcpuratcd  it  from  tho 
monntain  opposite,  from  whieh  it  was 
drnwu.  We  nintit,  therefoTD,  seek  for 
otiicr  reaBOnfl  Uiun  the  ignorftnce  of  the 
nncients  to  account  for  those  gigaaiio 
lines  of  lofly  aipicducUt  which  form  ao 
pictiires'iuc  ami  remarkable  a  foaturtr 
H  of  tli«  dampagna. 


Among  other  reforme,  wo  have  a  new 
taritl'  issued  by  the  Senator  uf  Itorae,  re- 
gulating tlie  price  of  bread  (iiid  meat. 
The  prices  of  uieHe  articles  had  been  ruq 
Up  lately  to  such  an  tsteiit  thnt  the 
mmiicipality  interfered,  and  reduced 
them  to  a  fair  rate.  Of  eourao  tho 
bakcru  and  butchers  rage  together,  but 
tho  pMple  are  delighted.  The  prices  of 
breadand  meat  areestablitthetlaR  foil  ow.i: 
— for  Bclectpiecefl,  of  becf.IObaiocohi  tho 
pound;  for  secund  quality,  H  baiocclii 
the  pound;  for  pork  of  iirst  quality, 
8  baiocclii,  and  uf  second  {jnality  6 
b.iiocchi  :  for  bread  of  fifjest  ipiality,  3 
baiocchi  and  Ij  quattrino  tlie  pound,  or 
3[  onncea  for  a  baioceo  ;  of  second 
(|ii(ility,  2  baiocchi  and  j  qiiattrino  the 
ponnd,  or  6J  OHUCCS  for  a  baiocL'');  of 
third  quality,  1  baioceo  and  4j  quattrino 
the  pound,  or  6]  ounces  for  a  batocco. 

Oh  New  Year'e  day,  according  to  cus- 
tom, the  Pope  received  Geueral  de  Mon- 
t«bello  and  the  French  ofKccra.  He 
warmly  tliankcd  tiieio  for  tlio  service 
they  bad  rendered,  and  gavii  liia  papal 
benediction  to  tliem,  and  to  the  Emperor, 
Ernproaa,  and  the  Prince  Iinperiul,  add- 
ing that  he  did  this  with  all  tbi?  mora 
solemnity,  because  It  was  the  lu§t  time 
that  be  shonld  receive  them  on  New 
Year's  day.  ■"  When  yoii  are  gone,"  ha 
Coneiuded,  "  wolves  and  other  wild 
beAHta  will  hihIi  into  the  folil,"  This, 
I  believe,  is  textuitlly  what  he  said,  and 
it  plainly  shows  that  after  the  with- 
drawal of  the  French,  he  bos  little  hope 
of  BUijtainin^  liiniscif  alone.  But  it  m 
the  general  belif;f  hero  that  he  will  not 
abnndt>n  Home.  It  is  easy  to  depart,— it 
is  difticnltto  ratiim.  ''*Voii  pogatimv*" 
is  a  Btroni^  fort,  and  after  all,  if  he  crni' 
not  hold  it,  be  may  turn  rouud  and  play 
"  'jif^nnnrn." 

Mr.  Gibson,  the  eminent  English 
fieulptor,  Wnfi.  struck  with  paralyais  on 
the  10th  of  January.  This  incIdeiLt 
deeply  affected  all  Bociety  hor-e,  nnd 
eeiwcjally  tlie  artiste,  to  whom  Mr.  Gib- 
son bud  always  conirat-nded  hiiiiMolf,  not 
onlv  by  hlu  rare  talent  and  devotion 
to  hiN  art,  but  by  the  kindly  and  genial 
eimplicity  of  hia  character.  He  was 
mating  a  visit  to  some  of  bis  friends 
on  Wciinesday  last,  when  he  comyilained 
of  djy.zines?  and  faintncijs,  I(  p!t(^<ed 
away,  however,  in  a  few  minutes,  and 
he  [ot'k  liis  U'arc,  declining:  to  have 
a  carriage  called  to  fake  him  horae. 
After  walking  rh  far  as  the  I'ioiiiia  di 
Spagaa,   hh  atrengtli   foiled   him,   and 


502 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


b*  called  a  cnrriage,  and  ordpred  the 
driver  to  drive  him  to  his  Etudio.  On 
hU  arrival  there  he  couUi  not  move, 
and  waa  carried  ioto  the  studio  by 
hia  worknacD,  and  tlicaoe  WOk  tX  Dnci! 
conveyed  to  hie  lodgings.  His  ante- 
room waK  biMifged  by  frieodfl  onxiuiis 
to  express  their  sympathy  and  leam  llio 
Isat  tidings  of  his  CGudition.  Ho  has 
been  engaged  during  the  winter  on  a 
large  gromi,  which  would  haT9  heen  one 
of  the  most  Timorous  of  lus  works.  But 
ho  has  been  struck  down  witli  thfl  work 
only  half  done.  Hia  life  has  li*en  long 
ana  lahorious.  For  more  tlian  a  half- 
century  he  has  been  huay  in  his  studio, 
elaboniting  tho^e  cla.ssiciu  Htatuca  which 
ftte  80  frel!  known  to  the  world.  lie  won 
success  and  fame,  snd  lio  enjoyed  what 
he  had  won ;  hut  he  ucvei-  atiiiti^d  in 
praise  of  the  works  of  others,  waa  a 
gflneroufl  critic,  and  had  tio  taint  of 
jealons}'  in  hia  nature. 

After  lingering  along  for  many  days, 
he  diod  on  the  27th.  On  tliie  pre- 
ceding d^y  he  recaived  a  telegram 
from  iler  Majesty,  expressing  her  sj-m- 
pftthy,  aoil  mftliin;;  inqoiries  as  tu  his 
heahli-  This  wok  the  laGt  ^leom  of 
plen-siire  wbich  silimiinated  his  Ufe,  He 
seiEfd  it  in  his  hand,  refused  to  part 
with  it,  nnil  died  with  it  in  hfa  graap. 
Ilad  Ills  lifo  bei.'n  prolonged  a  siitgk<  day, 
he  would  liave  retieived  a  Prusaian  deou- 
rRtioB,  wiiicii  arrived  only  a  few  Lours 
too  late.  But  honours  had  not  lieen 
waniing  to  him  during  his  life.  Ue  was 
a  Royal  Apadeinician,  a  member  of  the 
Afiad^my  of  St.  Luke  nt  Rome,  a  Knight 
of  the  Legion  c>f  llimoiir;  and  to  him,  in 
company  with  Tenerani  and  Kaueh,  as 
themoHtcmihciitrepresentativesof  BCidp- 
turo  in  tliL'irrti.spective countries,  a  gtatue 
had  been  u'rected  in  Munich,  uniler  tli^e 
anepicca  of  King  Ludwig  of  Bavaria. 
From  hamMeliegintimgahehad  niounted 
to  faime.  Fortune  had  emiled  upon  him 
COntiniEoudy,  never  odc8  averting  her 
face.  He  lived  a  Inng,  laborious,  and 
happy  life,  cheered  by  success,  sur- 
ronnned  hy  wa.rm  and  steady  friends, 
and  enjoying  the  reputation  lie  had  won. 
The  genial  simplicity  of  liis  imture,  the 
kindly  spiiit  which  breathed  tbrougli  all 
his  ttctd  iind  words,  his  entire  freedom 
from  that  jealousy  whiuU  bo  often  de- 
forms (he  (einperacucrit  of  the  artist,  his 
readin^iss  to  lend  hid  help  tu  all  who 
needed  it,  and  the  generous  largess  of 
hit)  praiHC,  won  for  him  many  friiundti, 
and  warded  him  from  bitter  and  hostile 


feelings.  lie  died  universally  regretted, 
and  witUoat  an  enemy. 

HiH  funeral  took  jdAce  at  the  Pro- 
testant cemetery,  under  the  sliaduw  of 
the  Pyramid  of  Cuius  Cestiua,  w-here  lie 
all  that  is  mortal  of  so  many  whose 
names  are  dear  and  honoured.  MIlitAry 
hoaouro  were  accorded  to  him  in  virtue 
of  his  bting  a  Koight  of  the  Legion  of 
Honour.  The  mofllcd  drum  beat  llie 
solemn  app'ronch  of  liia  body  to  tlie' 
gravej  around  which  was  gathered  a 
large  concourse  of  persons,  of  every 
nation  and  profesBion,  to  do  honour  to 
his  memory.  Before  the  reading  of  the 
service  a  volley  was  Ered,  and  at  the 
cluso  of  it  each  soldier  passing  the  head 
of  the  grave  diBcharged  into  it  One  by 
one  a  final  farcwdl  aboL 

Mr.  Gibson  was  a  pupil  of  Conova,  and 
workt'd  ill  his  studio  from  the  year  1817, 
wlien  b<!  first  wont  to  Rome,  until  the 
destli  of  hia  mnater  in  1?22.  There  Lc 
learned  his  art,  and  imbibed  thoM  prin- 
ciplos  which  churaeteriKe  all  his  works. 
To  the  end  of  \m  life  he  retained  tb« 
warmest  feelings  of  gratitude  to  Conova 
for  liiu  kindness,  and  the  liigllicsl  admi- 
ration of  him  as  an  artist,  and  he  never 
stepped  out  of  the  circle  of  artistic  ideas 
and  aubiccta  then  drawn  around  hiin. 
The  inliucDci]  of  the  ideal  world  by 
whieh  he  tlit;n  foiEud  himself  surroanded 
gave  a  perinanenC  colour  lo  hia  mitid. 
IIi9  chief  education  he  derived  fioia 
tranHlationa  of  auciieiitaulbors,  and  these 
were  almost  the  only  books  which  he 
I'Cftd.  But  be  read  them  rather  for  the 
legends  and  myths  which  might  afford 
subject  for  his  art,  than  inspired  Linjself 
witli  their  kleaa,  their  power,  or  ihdr 
[(oetiT-  Modern  literatura  did  not  inte- 
rcut mm,  and  he  knew  httlc  or  notliih); 
of  the  great  Engliaii  writerg.  He  lived 
in  a  world  of  his  own,  and  ihongb  born 
in  the  mcidem  prost'of  I<iverpoo!,lie  wqb 
by  adoption  a  child  of  tlie  paal,  and 
sympatfiized  solely  with  forms  and  ideaM- 
averse  from  the  spirit  and  the  religion  of 
his  centurj-. 

The  style  of  art  to  which  he  WM 
inclined — not  only  by  virtue  of  his  traiu- 
ing,  but  also  by  tbe  natciral  bias  of  his 
nature— was  of  the  ao-calliixl  "  classical 
school,"  It  was  chiefly,  almost  exclu- 
sively, to  subjects  drawn  from  the  my- 
tholOfiry  of  Greece  that  ho  dedicatiid 
liimseCf.  His  favourite  legend  was 
Cupid  (Lod  Psyclie,  and  he  never  lired 
of  repeating  and  illo.strating  it.  At  the 
age  of  seventy-five   years   it  was  still 


I 


I 


i 


fresh  taliini,  nml  one  of  his  lost  works 
was  a  lias-reiief  of  tlie  flisters  of  Psycha 
ix-'tiimiug  fro(D  ber  Itiden  with  pn-seuts. 
Among  bi»  priacipal  works  are  tlm 
VeuiJS,  tltp  Amazon,  BbiccIius,  Cupid, 
fhaelon,  Hclie,  the  niinter,  tho  Wownd- 
cd  Hero  anJ  Atuaxoii,  Narcissqs,  and 
line  Nyrapli  willi  CupiJ ;  and  ho  left 
DnfuiHlidu  at  ]m  death  a  group  which 
proioiwd  to  v.ink  among  the  best  of  Ijia 
works,  refireiscEtiiti^  Theseus  tjlaying  Uie 
HoLbet.  Tbe.so  work-H  are  all  clirtrRC' 
torized  by  the  aamii  (juDlitie?,  and  aru 
treated  ia  the  same  style.  They  arc 
Bimple  and  rcliui'd  ic  8(,'utimc'ut,  and 
are  williout  exception  in  iuiiLalion  uf 
the  antii'iu^.  Thuy  are  'Ciu'cful  and  uon- 
Rcientioiiij  in  Eixc-cution,  stiidk'd  more 
from  Micit'ut  murble  models  tliao  frora 
living  nature,  and  are  an  attempt  1o 
TCpeat  L!ie  old  lu  varied  formg  lalher 
than  (0  represent  i-ha  spirit  of  tliie  c^n- 
tiu^-.  Mr.  Gibson's  genius  was  rather 
the  result  of  a  sttnple  and  educated 
tuAe,  and  of  fricultifn  trained  liy  long 
ctudy  and  exercise  in  Idij  art,  than  an 
Original  and  creative  power.  His  ivorka 
are  more  gractfnl  ilian  energetic,  more 
refined  tlmn  vigorous.  Tbey  emboJy 
no  individual  profound  cunccptiona,  de- 
manding and  iuBisting  on  new  forma 
fof  tlicir  expreission.  He  aought  for 
calmne^H  of  character,  eimpliiiilty  of 
fomi,  and  graceful  sliiLpes,  rather  than 
deep  interior  pm^aioiis,  tragic  emotions, 
and  imprehsive  ideas.  TJio  spirit  which 
in  our  own  day  has  found  utterance  in 
the  mualc  of  Beethoven,  nud  in  the 
poetry  of  Coleridge  and  Rrowning,  never 
once  inspired  him.  Tli^  antique  cha- 
racter of  repose  was  more  akin  to  his 
nature  thon  the  spirit  and  aspiring 
dcTotional  temper  of  Chjistianity.  TUfc 
only  OQQ  uf    hill  worJw  illustrating  a 


Christian  subject  is  the  basso-relievo  of 
Chriijt  blessing  Little  Cbildren  ;  and  this 
ia  perhaps  the  poorest  of  all  his  produc- 
tions, at  once  wanting  tins  seatimeni. 
ami  tlLO  Ireatmout  app-ropriate  to  tbei 
subject.  His  statues  were  rather  lakisn 
in  fiO'm  without,  the  result  of  observa- 
tion, forms  appropriated  and  applied  to 
EubjeeLs,  than  created  from  within,  ttUap- 
tng  for  themftelvea  tbeir  own  fomis  and 
exjjresaionH.  They  were  foundiings,  not 
cliddreo,  I)om  out  of  the  Iifa  and  blood 
of  hia  inward  being.  His  wwUs  were, 
tike  himself,  uniraated  by  aRracoful  and 
relincJ  spirit,  but  lacking  in  depth  of 
spiritual  meaning  and  earnestness  of 
conception.  But  he  was  in  his  spliera 
an  acDomplished  artist,  careful  in  iild 
work,  and  warmly  deroted  to  hie-  art. 
His  fitudio  was  hU  home,  his  statues 
were  his  family,  nnd  for  some  of  them 
he  conceived  warm  and  almost  personal 
feelings  of  attuchment.  lie  could 
scarcely  bnng  himself  to  part  with  hia 
Venua,  and  for  yearn  after  it  was  fin- 
ished he  kept  it  iti  hits  studio,  and  never 
tired  of  loolting  at  it.  Ho  was  of  i^ 
mt>at  happy  temperament,  delighting  in 
bis  art,  and  working  on  apparently  with 
none  of  those  misgivinga  of  excellence 
which  torment  so  many  artists.  He 
thoraughJy  enjoyed  his  success  and  hia 
fame.  He  thought  no  ill  O'f  othera  nor 
of  himself.  IIo  was  gifted  ivitli  a  per- 
fect facility  of  work,  and  iu  al!  that  he 
did  he  showed  the  tlioionghnt^sa  of  his 
training.  His  loss  will  he  widely  felt. 
Knglnnd  haa  lost  in  Lim  her  oldest  and 
best  acdptor,  ono  who  did  honour  lo 
IsJH  natioji,  and  whose  name  will  be  long 
remembered  as  staui^iu^  in  the  same 
line  with  Flaxman — below  him  in  design, 
but  above  him  in  execution,  a  faithful 
artist,  a  simple,  honest,  amiable  miau. 


A  Course  of  Lectures  on  th-e  Tfiird  or  Trangitimi  Period  of  Mu^ieal  Hi«tffrij, 
tlelivtired  at  the  Eoyal  lustitution  of  Great  Lritau^  in  1861.  By  Joits 
HcTLLiH.     London. 

WE  sometimes  hear  muaic  called  the  universal  langiingp.  This  ig  quite  a 
mistake  :  the  nmsLc  of  one  nation  is  not  intelligihlo  to  ftnulliiir.  Tie 
IniHan  who  sita  down  to  yoll  for  two  hours  and  heat  the  "tom-tom"  may 
posaibi J  soothe  thcSaVagotiUnd,  hllthe  drives  the  KufopOan  tnatl.  Mr.  HuUfiJi 
tella  us  of  an  jVrahian  artist  who  not  onty  sang  and  player!  his  "  lovi,''  ui 
Xute,  out  of  tune,  but  rBfuaed  to  toloCate,  from  a  French  professor,  anj-tiiilig 
in  tuDO,  Neithtir  ia  the  music  of  one  Jige  suited  to  tlie  taste  and  i'wiing  of 
auothot.  Indeed,  htstoricidly  viewed,  of  all  the  arts,  mmic  would  s(hmji  to 
be  the  least  sympiithetic,  Tbo  monuments,  the  paintings,  the  literature  of 
the  past  art'  '-[ill  iluqnent.  We  stUl  adiairo  AVcstniiiiBter  AbJwy,  Xotn 
Dame  da  (JhuU' ■:.  "i  thu  froacoes  at  Padua.  "We  aro  still  warmwi  by  thu 
rougli  g«niaUt.y  ul  Uliaucer,  and  the  hnoa  of  Petrart-h  Rud  Dauto  are  wov^'u 
like  gnhlcn  tlireaJe  into  Oio  fabric  of  our  conversation  and  Ijtemturej  hut 
■when  iy&  are  nskeil  to  Bit  down  "wntli  these  ivortliies  and  hear  a  little  music, 
we  very  properly  decline.  Think  how  it  must  have  aotmded  1  At  thf ir 
fjiira  and  tourneyB  the  trouvir&s  and  jongleurs  would  sing  you  a  kind  of 
melody  without  any  bars,  or  time,  or  tunc,  or  sharpa,  or  flfita ;  and  at  church 
the  nionka  would  treat  you  to  a  kind  of  harmony,  coiiaiating  of  one  battnUm 
in  the  Iiaaa,  nud  a  few  consecutive  fiftha  and  octavea  to  relieve  the  earl 
This  went  on  all  through  what  Mr.  HuUah  cails  the  First  Period.  Modero 
Europe,  fn^ym.  700  to  liOO,  waa  preparing  to  make  muaic. 

The  Set^ond  Period  (1400^1600)  ia  marked  by  a  certain  system  of 
"tonality,"  or  arrangement  of  the  scale.  The  name  of  Joaquin  Bes  Pros  may 
bo  conflBctLid  with  its  rise  tmd  progress,  ivhJlst  France  and  Belgium  divide 
betWMn  them  the  honours  of  its  early  devtdopment,  Bnre  npp€At  s'wn 
afterwarda,  Jiccompanied  hy  flats  anil  ahorps  ami  other  novelties,  whit'h  the 
professors  scoiu  to  have  retained  na  inkirtsting  discoveries,  without  kunwing 
exactly  what  to  do  with  them.     Towards  tha  cloae  of  the  jiixteetith  cenluij' 


Notices  of  Books. 


505 


the  Gallo-IK'lgifiD  was  completely  absorbed  into  Ihti  Italian  8t:Uool,  ami  na 
JoBtjuia  Ues.  Prea  is  the  foiindationj  bo  Palestruia  is  the  crown  of  the  Hficond 
Pmod. 

Tlie  Tbinl  Period  (1600 — 1750),  or  the  tnamtlim,  Widgps  over  tlie  great 
gtilf  TietwL'en  the  sccoml  and  fourth  jHTi<.idp,  or  botwijen  Vie  aiicieul  iiiid  the 
mo<li*rn  miistc. 

The  Frmrth  Pmod  (1750 — ^ISGl),  or  rnoikrn,  cnntAudfs  Mr.  HuUiili's  fiist 
sfrips.  Koxt  tci  UiL-  iiHjileni,  the  tmiiaitlon  piiriod  is  the  most  interestuig, 
and  it  forms  tbi?  enhjeat  of  a  B^ptnite  viiIuihq  (II,)  of  Icctui-ea,  jraTjlished  laet 
year.  Witli  Vol.  I.  we  hnvo  not  now  tn  fli-al,  tbouj^li  \\-e  may  just  rjlmipe  at 
the  laat  pLiriod,  so  full  of  ftiiiiiliar  nanu's,  anil  trj'  to  forni  eomc  estiniiLto,  aa 
■we  reiiii  abiiict  what  we  Itnmv,  of  Afr.  Hulliih'a  value  tw  a.  guijp  in  the  Less 
frequented  rogiona  of  the  Tmiisition  Period.  This  gluiicc  is  not  fdlogL-tluT 
reassuring.  To  insert  tin-  nanieii  of  MostdK^li-s  and  Pk'j-ol  in  a  clirnnDlnpicul 
table  from  whinh  such  num  lu?  Srduiliert,  C^hopin,  nntt  (Jade  are  cxdudtid  ia, 
t"  say  the  least,  bad  tasto ;  and  Mr.  Hulhih  ninet  Imve  known  that  he  wel3 
trilling  with  ht3  audience  when  be  ventured  to  di3mi8.<i  the  kter  develop- 
meuts  f>t'  the  German  school  with  a  sne«r  at  Eicli-ird  Wagner,  and  without 
even  all  iillnsioii  to  Robert  iSchumfinn. 

Thu  Transition  Periiyl  Ixsgins  with  the  aixteetith  century.  The  ohl  f'/n- 
aUtij  was  tho  frrcnl  nhstiinle  \n  all  pro^iiSs.  A  fiRnlp  of  )iot*?9  haat'd  on 
njttural  ]iiw9  wjis  the  remedy.  The  f>lrl  masters  Would  iH^yin  a  sfa]«  any- 
where in  the  series,  without  wTittng  fiats  or  jjharjis  to  make  tiiu  sfmitonfs 
full  ill  thfiir  natumi  plai:.es.  The  chrengis  from  sueli  a  system  to  our  simple 
Viujiir  and  nn'wr,  with  it*!  natiii'al  arninpcment  of  acH:iilentaU,  vrna  immfiise. 
This,  Jimi  the  ronsequfut  discovery  of  the  jn'r/tict  muh'iire^  made  the  radical 
diSi?ti;ac:e  bt'twt'cn  the  mU  and  the  new  iiinsic.  No  uqe  nian  is  ro-^ponsihlt! 
for  Iheflc  startling  innovations,  but  most  of  thorn  art'  iittributpd  tn  Moiile- 
Verde-  (1570).  At  all  events  it  is  certain  that  about  this  tijue  the  world  yot 
very  tired  of  the  old  forms.  And  no  wonder  ;  for  a  acienlific  movement  in 
music  wtia  worked  Chut  like  an  equation  in  algebm,  and  was  iir-cessarily 
devoid  r.f  either  life  or  cxpreaaton.  The  wild  strains  of  the  troubadi mrs,  on 
the  otbc'T  hiiiid.  W4're  fvdl  of  fwling,  hut  liiwl  no  nonsistimcy  or  niethiHl.  In 
short,  as  Mr.  llulliih  well  ttsjireftse.s  it,  "the  seholnjitic  nuiaic  had  no  ni-E,  t\\e 
popular  TOUsic  no  sfMoisce."  The  glory  of  the  Transition  Period  ia  the  mar- 
ring of  art  with  seicnee.  Science,  grim  and  eccleeiastieftl,  ]ieeped  forth 
from  its  Severe  eloist^-r  and  beheld  the  wild  and  Iwumtiful  ci-eatnn'-  singiiig- 
her  roundelaya,  enptivnting  the  hearts  uf  the  jjeople,  who  followcf.!  her  in 
rmwd-s — det/iined  by  princes  ti>  sing  the  stt-ry  of  cnisadps  and  tin-  truniiplis 
of  lovn — all  the  while  knowing  nnthing  and  caring  nothing  for  the  moiles 
"a'lthf'ific  "  nm!  " pltstjiilj*  but  striking  the  harp  or  baudohne  to  the  wild 
»nd  irrttgiilar  rhythm  of  fancy  or  passion  :  and  science,  greatly  shocked,  with- 
tlifw  ilself  from  so  frivoloiia  a  spectacle,  just  a&  the  mouka  of  the  ilay  lived 
apitrt  from  a  bad  world.  But  preaentSy  t!ie  grave  face  looked  out  oncu 
ojon?,  opened  a  \rindow--ft  donr^ — ^atfpped  forth  and  mlnglecl  witli  the 
crowd,  just  as  the  preaching  friars  came  forth,  nntil  the  line  hntwrcn  the 
eecular  and  the  religions  began  slowly  to  faile.  Tfio  stem  heart  of  Seience 
was  smitten  by  the  enchantress,  popular  Art,  and  conceiv^i  the  daring  ]dau 
of  wooing  ami  winning  her  for  himsidf.  It  was  a  long  process ;  it  took 
anarly  two  humlrt'd  and  hfty  yi-ars.  Science  was  sn  dull  and  prejudiceil ; 
Art  vrus  801  iiiiputieitt,  and  wild,  and  eareleas.  Hut  thm  lii-st  Jidvanyes  of 
Science  wei'e  fiivourod  by  that  wondn-iis  springtido  whieh  followed  tliu 
wiBt<?r  of  the  mid'lh'  ages^thc  llfi"UK^"iiri:  P^iueiging  fri'ni  the  eold  cell 
into  the  warm  air  and  sunlight  of  »  uc-w  world,  Cjcionce  relitxed,  caat  itii 


-     VOL  I- 


2  r. 


506 


The  ConUmporaty  Review. 


tlicorieg  to  tUo  ^vinds,  sighfiil  for  natural  Art,  and  ravecl  mcohi^'runtly  aboat 
the  'musical  iliHJliiniiitiQU  of  the  Gruyks,'  Here,  then,  wna  the  first  [loiiit 
of  ayinpiithj.  Wild  (.-Jitlitisiaaiu  and  im|iatit>ttce  of  foruia  was,  for  one 
momentf  ctiraraoH  to  Scii-nce  wnd  Art,  aud  tluil  wns  the  moment  of  tlieir 
T«!tt()thaL  Immi-i^iiitelj  afk^nvarda,  with  Carissimi,  Science  reeoveretl  the 
lost  equiiibriiurij  hut  Art  waa  eaptivatud  by  th«  etrong  spirit,  and  tho  perfect 
marriiige  ii-aa  now  oiUy  a  matter  i>f  time. 

Carisslnii  (Ijoni  1585,  tiled  1672)  was  tlio  Yerj  type  of  llie  TninsiUon. 
He  laight  liave  at'L^a  PiJi'stilna,  and  he  lived  toliiinr  Corelli  The  ^rms  of 
every  style  of  musii;  knol\^l  ^mnn,  arose  during  Jiis  long  and  evontftil  lifc- 
thne  He  witneasi'd  the  blijimi  nrid  gradual  decay  of  tlifl  madrigal  in  Eng- 
land luid  Gennaiiy ;  the  hiith  luid  adoU'scfnce  f»f  tlic  iniiairfll  drama  in  France, 
uudtrLiilii;  tho  invention  r<i  thf  ortitorio  m  the  oratorj- t.f  8an  Philippe 
Neri,  at  Koicnj' ;  (lud  lastly,  the  riso  and  progress  of  institiniurLtfll  music  ta  ab 
mdejiendetit  hraueh  of  thi?  art.  Alxiut  1059,  Fram^isL-o  Pistiicchi  (wtiihlished 
hia  great  school  of  Itidian  ^n^^'ing  nt  iJologUfu  *'  Utfore  this,"  saj-s  an  old 
■writer,  "thi-y  used  to  howl  liktt  wolves."  He  waa  followed,  twenty  yi-ara 
later,  by  Sciirlatti  at  Naples,  aiid  this  improvement  in  vocal  operatic  niasiL' 
uiaiEc;  corresponding  tlfniacuU  iipcm  the  orchestra.  About  1700  arose  the 
schotjje  of  the  greiit  violin  niakdia  near  Cremona,  tho  StraduiLrii,  Ouameriit 
and  Aniati,  and  with  thera  rose  at  ouce  the  tlignity  and  ijnportanw  of 
instruDiental  music.  Ovei-tures,  Honatas^  i[unrtetta  began  to  be  written  in 
vast  quontitied,  and  the  way  wna  thus  rapidly  paved  for  the  Inter  developments 
of  the  mwlfru  Bymjihony.  Germany,  imeaii while,  though  Sir  from  original, 
had  Jiot  been  tdlo.  Deriving  lier  inspirutiou  copiously  from  Italy^  sbe 
hecaiiie,  during  the  seventeenth  e+ntnry,  the  land  of  organs  and  urgiuiist«, 
and  at  thu  In^giuning  of  tbo  eighteenth  showed  signs  of  indciiendtnt  thuu^bt, 
and  liegau  to  encotinif;!?  njitive  etfurt  in  such  men  as  Iveiser  and  Hass«. 

liut  we  niiint  now  gliiiiLo,  for  a  moment,  at  tho  jdiiee  which  England  holda 
in.  tho  rise  and  progress  of  music.  The  gloomy  ptriod  of  the  old  tonnJi^, 
J,  p.,  befora  ICOO,  is  relieved  in  thia  country  by  the  Instre  of  one  gn'at  name, 
— ,Tolin  UunatiibJo.  His  fimie  was  prodigious,  and  yet  his  ovn  ago  conltl 
hardly  have  uudt'ratood  him  Ho  had  misgivings  about  the  prevalout  systcn 
of  timelt'sa  muaic,  atrimge  anticipations  of  coming  haTmoniea,  and  is  oven 
Hidd  to  have  invDnitefl  cotinfa-jioiiit.  But  towards  tlio  close  of  tho  Socomt 
Perioil  (1500 — lOW)  was  horn  a  real  English  sidiool, — ^a  sfliool,  no  doiiht^ 
which  took  ItiT^ely  from  others,  and,  owing  perliapg  Ui  our  insular  pcwition, 
gave  littk  in  return,  bnt  a  school  which  could  boast  of  Tallis,  Fan-ant,  llvpi, 
and  Iti-vin  "  in  tlie  service  high  and  anthem  ■clear  ; "  Morley,  Wanl,  Wilbyc. 
and  Weclkes  lu  the  madrigal ;  Bull,  eipially  gi-oat  aa  an  executant  and  a 
composer ;  Dowland,  the  friend  of  Shaksperc,  in  the  part-song  ;  ajid,  Inst 
in  the  catalogue,  hut  first  in  every  styic  of  compoyition,  Orlando  GihboBS 
Tlien  comes  a  blank.  The  old  traditions  were  iitirly  used  up  ;  and  the  echoes 
of  the  Heimissitnce  music,  with  which  France  and  Italy  wera  ringing,  bad 
not  yet  reuchttd  us.  The  civil  wars  seemeil  to  paralyze  pur  luusjcal  tD- 
ventJon,  and  extinguiali  om-  enlhuHiagm,  In  Gerniauy,  during  the  ThirtJ" 
Tuars'  War,  organs  nnd  organists  aboiiind«d,  nn<L  compofiora  wwu  bwy 
absorbing  all  the  new  inHueuces.  In  England,  under  simiiat  ciri^nin- 
Btaoices,  juweic  got  old  and  dull ;  few  composed  or  played,  and  iewur  nutJ 
to  list'en. 

In  1000,  rv-Jhain.  Humphrey,  »  chyrieter  boy  in  the  Royal  choir  of  Bi" 
Majefcty  Chaiies  I L,  went  to  Paris,  'llienj  he  Ml  in  with  the  nrw  di*i« 
school  of  Lulii.  He  immediately  placed  hiniBclf  imdiT  the  groit  Frtnch 
compter;  and  the  result  was,  that  Muster  Humiihroy  returned  in  a  I'ev 


Notices  of  Books. 


507 


years  "  an  a*beolute  Bf onftieup,  disparaging  m-'erything  and  everybody's  skill 
but  his  own"  {Pefttj»'is  Di'irtj).     Tho  astotiiBlieil  yiiatlenien  of  tine   King's 

t^Mtitl  then  y^Lil  tliL'ir  first  fioej)  into  tliL-  Hew  wutld.  Htimphi'Oj  ti>ld  ihein 
tbat,  besiiies  piuWiig  <ild  rubhisli,  they  cOultl  keup  ijoither  time  nor  hine ; 
aud  as  for  tho  King's  musical  director,  he  promiaBil  to  "give  him  a  lift  out 
of  his  place,  for  that  hv  (Miiater  Humplirey)  ami  the  King  uiidiiratood  each, 
other,  and  were  mighty  thick."  In  truth,  "thut  brislc  and.  airy  priucw"  W119 
charmed  wiLli  thy  jiew  stylij  ;  and  Pvpys  dt'-acriWi  liini  uudding  hit}  royal 
h«Ad,  and  !,K?aliiiy  thne  in  uhapel  with  the  gnwttest  z^st. 

The  song's  of  LiillJ,  foiiudwl  011  Carissimi,  mid  i\\v  anthenis  nl  Humphwy, 

tfoHud'jd  oa  Lulli,  mii.'it  iiidL-ed  have  coma  upon  English  earg  like  a  revflation, 
and  stiirtlcd  thu  lovers  of  Gibbuns,  Lawea.and  -Jenkins,  as  much  a^  Muzart'a 
"  Idomeut'o"  surprised  ila.:  jjjurnitu:  wucld,  or  lSi;ethovi.-u.s  "  Eroica"  the  lovers 
of  the  oldtir  sy[ii[)hniiif3.  Humplirey  ditd  in  1074,  nt  the  t-iirly  aye  uf 
twenty-sevt'U  ;  but  his  direct  intluiince  may  be  trticed  in  Wise,  Bluw,  and 
Henry  J^uret^lL  PurcBll,  born  IG58,  is  liistingiiiRhciL  by  some  of  those  rare 
qualities  pRculiar  to  Heniiia  of  tba  hi|i;hest  order.  lie  sympathized  iiYith  aud 
drank  ileoply  into  the  apLiit  of  bia  age,  but  was  not,  like  HuuipliEey, 
absorbed  by  it.  ilia  miuaic  stands  as  it  were  nitiely  bdanci^d  iKdwceu  thu 
poBt  and  the  fntnrG.  lie  felt  bia  rtdationa  to  the  one  by  Byinpatby,  and  to 
the  other  by  a  kind  of  almost  jirojibetic  iiituitiinu.     In  bis  d«y,  "that  grava 

»anil  solemn  manner  of  music  by  iiytd,  Tallist  &c.,"  wua  iu  sad  Llian?]iate, — 
"the  King  likod  cbeirful  airs  ho  could  lium  and  bt-at  time  Ui.  PureoU 
Batisfied  him  fully,  and  yet  we  i^iiinot.  lidt^n  it*  hia  nuisic  without  liehig 
struck  somtjtiraes  by  a  curtain  obi  How  of  rhyi:]uii  and  harmony,  which  wq 
ffrol  could  only  liave  bueii  derivcil  from  a  deep  study  of  the  echooU  of 
Heniy  VIII.  and  Elizflbeth,  As  in  Tcading  Tennyson  wo  are  sometiinea 
aJTlH^ted  ivith  a  atranffe  sense  of  Crc^orge  Ilcrbert  and  Milton,  so  in  listraing 
to  I'ui-cell  thbre  tit^als  over  us  a  memory  yi'  the  obleii  titnti,— -like  a  kindly 
^■ighosi  that  rises  and  ElO'^lts  by  with  a  swe^t  and  aobmii  smile. 
^B  One  of  the  grwitest  blemialLcs  in  PurceU  is  a  trick  inherited  from  his 
HmaMi^r,  Humpbrey^ — imitation.  ITip  piis:$ion  for  expn^s^ing  wonls  in  note?, 
fouiidtjd  tin  a  puerile  and  mitttaken  view  of  the  epliere  and  I'^itiiuate  func- 
tions of  muiiic,  reuehcji  the  ridiculouB  in  hiuL  For  ini^tance,  be  Ilis  t<j<  set 
the  words,  "  They  ttiat  go  down  to  tho  aea  in  sliipe,"  aud  proceeds  to  perfonn 
that  opecation   musififilly  by  taking  tiie  baaa  down  a  eouplv  of  octaves,  and 

I  leaving  him  drowned  at  the  lowur  D.  Tho  sam«:  unliapjiy  Ikisb  ia  soon  afk'.r 
"carried  njc  to  bflaven"  on  a  high  dotted  crotcht;t.  (Jther  conijjosora  havu 
•tooj»ed  to  these  unworthy  tricka  Ilandd'R  "phgU'es"  an;  full  of  them; 
Haydn's  *'Creatiou"  rejoicea  in  "a  lonj;  and  sinuous  worm"  of  the  mtrtb, 
Citfthy  ;  Spolir'a  "  Power  of  Sound"  bus  an  etd  "  wriggling  in  the  wittor  •" 
the  illu.^ioii  of  Bectbovcn'a  "  Paatonil"  vanishes  with  the  iippearanue  of  a 
puid  cuckoo ;  and  even  MeniJfllssohn  nmat  disturb  with  hia  live  donkey  the 
enchant  men  t  of  "A  Midsummer  Nigbta  Dream"  1  lint  with  idl  abati^ments, 
thu  muaic  of  Pnrcell,  whieh  after  two  bnnilred  ycara  hita  still  the  jmwer  to 
charm,  Ijpars  a  signal  wntiiess  to  the  force  and  oriyinidity  id'  bia  genius. 

Pnrcell  died  in  hia  thirty-uightb  yi?ar,  169G.     Hand«l  came  to  England 

lin  1710.     lli.s  mHai<!  i.i  ac^  wcU  knuvrn,  and  hia  inllnence  has  Iwen  ao  gi-eat, 

Ithat  we  ouglit  either  to  say  a  great  deal  or  hanlly  anytbing  about  him. 

|0«r  limits  suggest  the  latter  course.     The  year  ITOtt  is  the  tumlng-pohit  in 

tliij  muaiiial  history.     In  that  year  he  viartal  Naples,  and  met  iScarlatti, 

Pi:>rpori,  and  Corelli.    It  \iaA  to  him  a  pr^riod  of  rapul  assimilation.     "With 

anc  stride  he  reached  the  fnmt  rank,  and  felt  that  henceforth  no  inusii-ian 

ive  coidd  teach  bint  anything.    Alwaya  voluminouB,  and  generally  original. 


5o8 


The  Contemporary  Review, 


lie  pQvertLelesB  in  his  later  years  adopted  thTee  shoTt  and  easy  m^thorls 
of  prndiKmg  iniisic ; — lat,  He  worked  up  his  fnrljr^p  compositiiius  to  new 
words ;  2ndly,  n«  reprodiicwl  his  older  works  bodily  -with  lianlly  nnj 
nltemtions ;  3rdly,  Wlii*u  he  hait  none  of  his  own,  he  took  other  peo[*Ie'B, 
lie  dienl  in  17S9,  aged  seventy-eight.  There  can  be  ho  doubt  that 
Kajiilul,  hy  his  single  might,  greatly  advnnced  music  in  all  it«  branches  ; 
liilt  his  aotirm  i^  ftir  more  reiuarkahlo  on  vocid  than  on  instnimentjJ 
music.  Modem  instlTini-enl?]  music  ia  simply  the  most  ♦^xtipordimiry 
iirt-developimiut  which  thu  world  has  ever  seen.  It  can  oiily  be  rom- 
pared  to  the  perftction  reaidiod  bo  suddeiilyj  afUr  a  certain  point,  by  the 
Orcipk  dramn.  But  th*?  stride  from  Corelli  to  Beethoven  wns  toti  great 
flVPH  for  the  giant  Handel  ;  and  yet-  the  men  who  completed  tlitit  stride 
were  Iian<lera  contunipt'raries.  Handel  was  tnrty-aeven  when  Ilaydii  was 
liorii,  aiid  Jtozart  wiis  in  his  third  yuar  wlncu  Handel  died.  Mtisieiiliy,  bi'w 
inatiy  ci-ntiirios  doei*  Handel  scein  V\  us  hn'hind  modem  uuisic; !  yet  wc  can  all 
but  join  hands  with  liim  ;  and  the  musictd  enthui^iast  ia  tilled  with  a  CBrtaiii 
aw<!  when  he  thinks  that  men  are  stiU  nlivc  who  nuiy  have  listened  1o 
Moziirt,  and  conversied  with  the  vonemble  Hnydu. 

lu  parting  with  Mr.  Hullah  we  cannot  eay  thnt  we  are  im^preased  ^ritli 
till?  comprehensivenesa  of  hiB  viowe,  the  accuracy  of  hiw  judfiment,  or  tlic 
ele^ppiHftP  of  bis  styki.  We  do  not  think,  in  either  vcdume,  he  has  trawd 
satiafrtctorily  tliw  inHuence  of  tht'  Ufwusmiiv-f.  upon  mnaic  ;  and  his  ailnsiiihi? 
to  tli<i  eiefciT  arts,  Ijy  \iivj  cd'  aimhij^-,  nre,  to  say  the  leasts  rapue.  Pn'rliaps 
fi?w  will  be  content  with  his  treatuivnt  of  Solm.stian  Rndi,  or  agree  to  disiriiy 
that  ^flt  eoitiposer's  stron^;  individuahty  and  8tnin;.;e  idioej-ncrasy  wilh  ihi: 
renjark  that  "his  vocabulary  was  limited,  Ida  awent  proWnniiil.  and  hia 
stylo  obscure,"  liut  this  is  a  very  yood  description  of  Mr.  Hnllah'sown 
style  of  ■nriring,  tlian  which  nothing  csiti  h«  niorp  inelegriTit,  nigged,  ain! 
occagionally  iox-olveiL  Upon  this  point  it  would  bi*  invidious  to  dwelL  It 
js  no  luicommori  thing  to  find  a  man  accomplished  in  the  Iniiguag*  of  art 
bwt  incapuhle  uf  expre.'ising  his  thoughts  in  any  other.  And  jiet  we  mmst 
not  say  tlmt  the  pn.>fesaor  of  King's  College,  London,  ia  incapable  of  espiww- 
ing  himeelf  in  Engli-th ;  everything  je  by  vompanson,  and  wu  aro  sure  Hint 
any  one^  M'ho  has  heard  th«  latft  Mr.  Gih*->n  tftik,  or  try  to  talk,  ab"ul  lii« 
ow]i  Btatues,  tvUl  l>o  disposed  to  think  th&t  Mn  Hullali  is  mrely  giiled  a&n 
lecturer  on  his  art. 

Of  Mr.  Huilah's  learning,  experience,  and  peculiar  titiiess  for  hi-s  vocation 
thei>3  can  !«  but  one  opinion,  and  as  wo  glance  <li>wn  tlio  long  li&t  of  his 
W'lrks  on  the  dry  dejjurtmeQts  of  nui8i«,  ive  must  admit  tluit  if  he  does  not 
always,  attain  to  the  wisdom  of  the  philosopher  or  tho  swoftdeaa  of  the  poet, 
he  still  reoiains  the  most  able,  patient,  and  lahoriouB  of  instnictors. 


'HiQughte  QH  the  Daily  0/toral  Serokes  in  Carlisle  Cathedral     By  Fbancb 
Close,  D.D,,  Dean.    (Pp.  12.)    Carlisle  :  Thumam ;  London  ;  HaWliard. 

We  confess  that  wo  have  read  this  little  pamphlet  with  tuimingled  fed* 
inga  of  plea-surc,  and  of  gratitude  to  Pean  C'lusa  for  tho  distinct  awl 
manly  lino  which  ho  has  taken  in  ita  pages.  There  are,  it  seems,  «p\mnia 
of  thirty  thonaand  people  living  in  the  city  and  vicinity  of  Carlisle;  asi 
yet  the  avcra;^'e  attendance  at  tho  Cathedial  service  ditring  a  cnnsiileralila 
portion  of  the  year  ia  not  moro  than  five  or  six  'NVu  s«ppOB&  that  Ihfl 
viuinlty  of  Scotland  must  have  leavened  the  people  of  "merry  Carlislfl 
with  exceptional  antipathiea  to  cathedral  service :  for  we  could  mention  > 


Notices  of  Books. 


509 


tsoutliem  <;atheclral,  in  a  city  of  consiileratly  lees  popiUtitiyn.,  where  tlie  ave- 
uiye  atteijilance  19  .more  thwi  sixfold  tliat  nn-'ntioneJ.  by  tLo  Dean. 
However,  whratlier  six  or  thirty-six  attenil,  thyro  caa  be  no  question  of 
the  srumilniis^of  hisriew,  at*  liere  put  forth.  Taliing-uooeljut  the  fumUiusof 
Cliurehiitca,  ati'l  «inon;c  thoae  rejutitiiig  evury  case  of  preoccupation  or  oIiJjjc- 
tioii,  Jiuiriy  persons  might  be  I'uuiid  ia  every  calhedjul  tity  who  miyht 
iittvuii  ;iL  luust  once  a  diiy  with  proftt  to  theiuscLvea,  ami  svun  with  ciijoy- 
lueiit,  whu  yet  ore  nevur  fnuml  ou  a  week-diiy  iu  the  chutr.  The  Dean 
Ksuta  firrth  with  mu-ih  feeling,  and  BLmplo  fervour  of  laugiinge,  the  real 
B  Uses  of  daily  spi-vico  in  such  cfvaca  : — 

^P  "■'^^y*!  sneh  ptTsora  called  in  the  proviilrncR  of  God  to  attend  daily  eervit'o,  ob  a  dulj- 
^^  iaptiacd  upon  them,  Lhpv  would  disuuvtr  nftt'i  a  wliilo  tbat,  I'nr  t'rjm  its  boing  irlis'jme 
«  aTiiwrt-TOjjiilorj'i  it  had  tL-turaa  p]i.'.is;Lut  un>l  yroCltulile  to  llicir  soiila ;  they  woald  liud 
Uwt  rmt  seldorn,  -w-hen  toil'iI  and  hnrnsai-d  with  the  r^rt?a  of  "this  troubloMnns  worii' 
iLb  hour  of  prnj-er  tfaa  a  lilLla  Bumilunn--,  a  BWtn-'l.  intDrVIll  Of  rutrcshiuent,  'a  liriXifc 
wlioreof  to  dniLk  by  the  "O'ay' — rust  in  tiii!  midst  of  diatuiliQiite  :  tto  talmneBH,  tnin- 
quillitj,  and  rejioso  of  tho  little  season  of  prayer  aio  ftocitLing  to  the  ioiic?  nian  ;  and 
toe  octlvu  dutiesi  aud  ardiigud  coittiltts  uf  life  otu  rcBunicd  witli  rrtah  vJ^ur  and  cnt'igj'. 

■Neither  does  the  daily  repetition  of  tlie  Banne  prajera  jrovc  irkfiome  or  unprolitable;  M 
oomprebcnsirL',  io  su^gcstivu  aro  thrVj  that  pioiisly,  humbly,  flnd  Jovoutly  ii»ud,  (hej* 
Ijecome  the  clja.au«^Is  ot'  fresh  spiritaol  blessiogs,  ciay  by  day,  Ea  our  oi^caeioiu  nnd  nectjs- 
•itica  UTiK.  A  atvsdy  nttcuilance  onco  n  d&y  on  (he  part  of  tboso  who  huvo  tinw  luid 
leisnre  at  tlicir  diGpo£[d,  w<iu1d  bo  found  by  Bpirituul  pcreoDS  a  pvot  blids&in^  to  their 
wtitls.  Oil  Eu<:h  a.  puibt,  iaduedp  it  I4  nob  well  to  dogmnUE^  nor  to  tco^h  nuthotiLdlivoly 
that  it  in  a  positive  dnty  to  attend  publm  worship  daily,  and  that  to  negleut  it  lb  to  commit 
UH]  yet  it  iiliit  be  confideiitly  recouuuended  oa  n  religious  privilege,  acid  |ls  a  habit  fraught 
with  many  advantagea." 

»Hc  then  meets  the  olijoction  often  urged  Against  the  musical  charActtr 
■of  the  fiCTvico.  AtiJ  here  ayiiin  wo  canunt  hat  adinire  tho  temju-'ratd,  and 
fit  the  sajne  time  hearty  mnunci  in  >yhich  tho  objections  aro  dealt  with. 
Wliile  acknowLcdt^Lii^  ttie  nndcairahleiiesa  of  the  mdisorimiuatti  iutroduc- 
tion  of  ehonil  servico  into  jiarish  churches-,  ho  jualLties  its  uso  in  our 
cathcdmls,  aud  ingenuously  confi^ascs  liis  owu  change  of  opinion  on  the 
subject  since  Ms  ulcvation  to  his  dt'oueiy : — 

"  Al  the  rj»l:  of  being  judged  egotistiral  in  this  Toiitter,  I  miist  testify  that  an  iitlcTidaiiCO 
upaiL  ruuaital  puhlit;  Borvicea  daily  fur  nearly  nine  yeara,  has  oreateil  a  now  habit  in  my 
uundi  a  d-jcided  preft-Tcatic  to  this  mode  of  woreliip  liaa  Vwi  niriilitJiiedi  nnd  unless  I  am 
rrmtly  dec^'Lvud,  my  conviction  ia  that  the  etirnfurt  tliiis  t«\p>iTi('nrcd  in  iLi^'iiit>  worsbip  has 
Men  not  a  little  ciiliaiLccii  by  thu  tl'^uIat  eiLdt;Dee,  the  measured  tiizic,  tho  continuous 
monotone,   in  which  our  pmvi'ra  art'  uttered. 

*•  Were  lh«  Litur^  of  our  Church  always  road  n»  it  might  be,  nnd  ought  to  hi' — not 
caly  evrrcctly  and  B«nsibly,  but  with  true  duvDliua — prefereueo  might  still  be  gLvea  to  an 
uninuaical  mode  of  worship;  but  cdnfiidcring  lioiv  Boldom  tliia  ia  tha  rase,  how  Ireiniently 
our  aervjcea  uro  diaguiaed  and  distorted  by  (.'ULlless  and  lansuituble  rarietiea  uf  emphnsLS 
«nd  onaneitttian,  there  are  few  peraoas  who  aio  familiar  witli  both  stylos  who  would  not 
prcivT  the  musical." 

We  nuiy  perhaps  divido  tho  advocates  of  any  particular  view  of  Church 
matters  into  throe  closaos.  Tlie  first  of  these  is  repceacntad  by  the  party 
wiari,  pluadLuj^  the  Ciiusa  of  his  party  with  that  iJiicty  :  and  so  far  only  is 
thia  pleading  coniitieuly  iiisreiiiiaivi',  his  weight  huinj;  derived  from  the 
position  which  he  liohls  in  its  ranks.  The  second  is  eomposed  of  thoae  who 
are  of  no  party;  whofle  vibws  can  only  make  way  by  their  own  w^;ight, 
without  advcntitiouB  aid.  The  tliLrdj  and  by  fjir  the  eitialleat  class,  consists 
of  party  men,  who  aro  open  to  conviction  :  %vho,  without  losing  their  place 
and  woi^'ht  auion^  thtir  own  friends, .are  not  ashamed  to  avow  somiitimea  their 
adoption  of  views  commonly  attributed  to  the  other  side.  Among  this 
mfiat  useful,  and  happily  increasing  class,  w&  are  delighted  to  bo  able  to 
number  the  present  Dean  of  Carlisle. 


I 


5 1  o  Tfie  Contemporary  Review, 

Hymns  on  the  Holy  Communion.  By  Ada  Cambridge,  Author  of  "  Hymm 
on  the  Litany,"  with  a  Preface  by  the  Rev.  R  H.  Baynes,  M.A.  Lon- 
don :  Houlston  and  Wright 

Tnra  is  one  of  the  many  rtnl-edged,  and  red-lined,  and  tastefully  covered 
hjTiiii-books,  wliicli  tliese  our  years  seem  never  tired  of  producing.  Itfi  con- 
tents are  quite  up  to  the  standard  of  the  better  Church  poetry  of  the  day. 
Wc  confess  tliat,  to  our  mind,  there  ifl  too  much  of  ritualistic  sentiment  in 
some  of  tliese  hymns ;  but  at  the  same  time  this  would  not  be  a  fair  criticism 
to  pass  on  the  book  as  a  whole.  There  are  deptlis  of  devotional  feeling  in  it 
which  dip  far  beneath  the  alluvial  strata  of  ritualism :  and  there  is  true 
poetrj',  too  good  to  be  marred  even  by  the  millinery  which  occasionally 
enwraps  it.  Miss  Cambridge  has  taken  the  Cotmnunion  Service  in  the 
Prayer-book,  and  has  ^vritten  a  short  hjnin,  or  rather  poem,  on  each  portion 
of  it.  Portions  of  some  of  the  pieces  are  worthy  to  be  placed  beside 
the  best  parts  of  the  "  Christian  Year."  But  that  remarkable  book  is  easily 
imitated  :  and  we  hope  we  may  again  meet  Miss  Ada  Cambridge  on  ground 
of  her  own,  which  she  is  well  qualified  to  occupy  successfully,  without  seek- 
ing to  imitate  any  one. 

Preeea  Privatas  Quotidiance  Launcdoti  Andretces,  Episcopi  WintoniensU. 
Edidit  fRiDERicus  Metbick,  A.M.  Londini,  Oxonii,  et  Cantahrigiae: 
J.  et  F.  H.  Rivington. 

The  labours  of  Mr.  Meyrick  on  behalf  of  the  Anglo-Continental  Society 
are  well  known  to  all.  The  object  of  that  society  is  "  to  make  the  princi- 
ples of  the  English  Church  known  in  the  different  countries  of  Europe,  and 
throughout  the  world  ;  helping  forward  the  internal  reformation  of  national 
churches  and  other  religious  communities,  by  spreading  information  within 
them,  rather  than  by  proselj-tizing  from  them ;  and  to  save  men,  whose  reU- 
gioiis  convictions  are  already  unsettled,  from  drifting  into  iniidelity,  by 
exhibiting  to  them  a  purified  Christianity  which  they  may  be  able  to 
embrace."  It  is  in  pursuance  of  one  of  the  principal  means  which  the 
society  uses  for  this  purpose,  that  Mr.  Meyrick  has  edited  the  beautiful 
"Preces  PrivaLii"  of  IJisIioji  Andrewes.  To  any  one  wlio  has  ever  read  or 
used  these  pniyera,  there  -is  no  need  to  recommend  them.  To  those  who 
have  not,  we  may  say,  froiu  some  experience,  that  there  ia  no  more  acceptable 
guide  to  the  thoughts  in  ])rivate  devotion.  There  is  no  subject  of  prayer, 
penitence,  or  thanksgiviug  whicli  they  do  not  sjtecify :  and  their  tabular 
amuigement  seems  to  su^^gi'St  trains  of  supplicatory  thouglit  without  fettering 
the  free  utterance.  For  this  purjiose  we  have  also  made  use  of  the  "  l^reces 
I'rivata; "  as  the  "  notes,"  so  to  speak,  for  family  as  well  as  for  private 
prayer. 

JTr.  MejTick'a  edition  is  in  admirable  ty^ie,  and  a  portable  form,  and  wi 
cordiiilly  recommend  it  for  English  use,  as  well  as  for  that  to  which  it  i^_ 
especially  dedicated. 

The   tiuuditary   Common  Seitnce   Book,  offer  the    Grand  Model  of  tfi  _z: 
Enf/lish  Churc/i,  Repetitions  reduced,  with  Variations  in  Matins  an^^ 

Evensong.         Bristol :  Chilcott     1865. 

In  one  of  the  literary  newspapers,  a  few  months  since,  there  appeared  *.■» 
article  headed,    "The  "Worst  iSermon  we  e^-er  heard."     Had  it  been  thie 
fortune  of  the  "tvriter  to  hear  also  these  prayers  used,  the  whole  Bcrvice 
would  at  least  have  been  on  a  par.     We  never  saw  any  change  so  absolutely 


Notices  of  Books. 


Sir 


I 


I 


and  wilhotit  exception  foe  the  ■worse,  us  that  -whicli  has  in  this  book  poHsed 
upon  our  btautiful  Church  of  Engifind  Bcrvice.  It  is  our  belief  that  the 
real  Jifiicnlty  of  liturgiiail  revision  will  lic^  after  all  in  the  fuct,  tbnt  there 
is  now  no  man,  and  no  Tiody  of  men,  at  all  cajmblQ  of  mending  the  Look 
of  Commfm  Prayer  with  words  even  apptotichitiy  m  fitnusa  thoat:  diajikced. 
Hut  if  the  ftvemge  of  attewpt^^d  teviBtona  be  idteody  low,  it  will  Im;  coa- 
ftiJerably  Ijrought  duwTi  by  tho  nccessiun  of  tliis  last  That  Wo  may  Jiot  be 
thought  to  be  speaking  Severely  without  reason,  we  will  givo  a  faw  Bpeci- 
mebs  of  altemiiions  and  inserted  rubrics  ; — 


Book  o'  Cokmqk  Prvyeu. 

"We  hare  leftundoaotlioso  tHngg  which 
tri!  ougbt  to  haTB  done  ;  Anil  we  hare  iluae 
iLo5«  tbin)^  which  wo  oujcbt  not  to  have 
ilone;  ^Vnd  tbera  is  do  hralth  in  oa." 


Hkvihed  Book, 

"We  IiBTO left undane those tliuigs which 
we  ought  to  hiLVc  duni^ ;  And  wu  h&ve  done 
tliDso  thiu^a  wiilch  -oro  contnu-v  to  thy 
divino  pnwcpts :  And  Eftvbg  hciiltlii  is  not 

in  uB," 


Inserted  rubric  (before  thb  V^vile  ExuKcvunt) : — 


I. 

^L       ''  Wt  should  Qvrstleei  endtaroitr  to  imMf,  aitrt  to  impart  lift  bjf  the  atri'in.,  and  to  (ajcg  gw* 

^■jjpvl  10  ai  to  edi/y,  tut  not  to  dittiivh  tti6i6  avsaiid  m.     And  toe  enfrMt  Orgaiiista  to  acum- 

^^r^My  th^  t£ord*  and  roitet  With   taate  and  Jcefiitff,   lo  e»   to  rai»e    lAe  tiiinif  a^ate  etiHhly 

thOMfhti  :  the  occuiioiiiil  nwtil  it  tff'erliiw  and  mt/ilimey  but  eonttanll-j  oieiyeweriu/)  tht  finifcrt 

vfhen  in  foleraitf  !i«rmwy,  dimmnget  them  front  4uinu  their  bat,  otti  (emU  i">t   to  edifi' 

eatien." 

Provision  in  mad©  that  on  the  niutit«!enth  day  of  the  month  the  metrical 
version  of  Psa.  xcv,  may  1j«  used,  to  avoid  repetition  :  a  singidiir  wuy  of  con- 
fessing how  ■unliku  thut  veceion  is  to  the  I'ealin  itself.  But  of  this  metrical 
Teidou  the  sQcood  atauza  is  altered,  and  pointed  thtus  :— - 

"  0  1ft  ua  to  Jiia  COURTS  repoir 
And  brcatic  Oiir  ftajiimtioni  ttera 
DpoTi  the  knee  dovoutlj': — Alll 
Before  the  Lord  our  MaJier  ioll." 

The  Prince  and  Princess  of  Walea  are  thus  prayed  for  : — 

"  "We  htimlily  bewseiiJi  theo  to  help  our  Ecur,  Prince  Albert  Edward,  tho  PrinoBSB  Con- 
tort, ttbd  lit,"     .     .     . 

In  tlio  Genend  Thiinkagiving,  "by  piving  up  ourselves  to  thy  eyrvice'," 
heeomcs  "  by  giving  up  oucbuIvos  muro  to  thy  serviiw  :"  as  if  that  which  is 
entirely  giwii,  could  ha  yot  more  given. 

Passing  onward  over  multitudes  of  chaogea  just  as  unmeaning  andalwurd, 
we  are  not  surf^risud  that  tlie  author  has  not  kept  hia  nuirrliig  hnnds  from 
moving  the  liallowud  ground  of  tho  Niccne  Creed  itselli  when  we  read  in 
his  rubrical  mdo  to  his  Coniraunion  Office,  that  "the  Creed  .  .  .  . 
is  iiiqiuHaiil  in  a  mixed  CuatjregatUiii^  hut  oiii  o/jiluee  for  udeattceti  Chrif' 
tiuna  (U  tlif-  Cninviunkm  Scruk-c." 


NiCEKB    ClLEEIl. 

■'  And  iaone  Lord  JeAus^Omat,  the  only- 
bpj^tt«n  Son  of  Qnd,  ISfgotlin  of  his  Father 
bfl'are  all  woilds,  Uod  of  Ood,  Light  of 
Lirfbt,  Vi!r^  God  of  very  God,  JlegoUi-n,  iit<t 
mad?,  Ifeing  of  ons  subatunco  with  tht^ 
Fikthcfi  It}'  whom  all  lhing»  vefe  maAe, 
Who  for  us  ULen,  nud  for  our  ealvntion,  \iatao 
down  from  litivon.  Anil -n-aia  Incnmatp  I>y 
die  Holy  Gbo£t  of  the  ^'irgin  3r[urv,  And 
was  DUdo  mgji,  And  wna  (!nid£t.-d  ulsa  fur 
D»  und«r  Fondua  Pilate." 


RBTISEIt  SOOE. 

"  And  in  one  Lonl  Jtstut  ChiiBt,  Son  of 
Gpd:  Who  for  us  meaajul  fur  our  salvntion 
enme  duwa  from  hesvt^n,  And  waa  incur- 
uate,  AiidwimnademaUr  Andwaa  cnid^ed 
alao  for  ua." 


5^2 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


ThiB  GiflBtl,  ocMirrmg  in  his  Evening'  Prayer,  is  folloTrtd  by  the  CoU«d4, 
of  which  the  thinl  nina  thua  : — 


Book  or  Common  riUYEii. 
"LJgbt(:n  uurdai"kTn;ss,  wo  bEsC^ch  IhiEC,  0 
Lord;  tind  Lv  tliv  jirimt  iii-Hnv  dulbiiil  ua 
from  nil  [-eiiiB  Mid  ilmigers  oi'  this  uig-h; ; 
for  iLo  love  of  thy  only  tSon,  our  Saviour, 
Jeeiis  Christ.    Anitn." 


HKvrsEt>  Book. 

"lighlMiOur  darkncM,  ■webewwli  tliw,  0 
Lord,  by  tlie  gk'nniings  of  lliy  TTcjly  S])iril: 
and  of  thy  gt*ai  iacn.-y,  ioiiIh!  llie  clgae  of 
thU  day  cotufonaltlo  tu  ub  :  otid  di,'fcud  m 
from  ad  |imls  oad  dimgcr«  of  thus  night : 
vatch  oviT  out  soil],  noil  prtet-rvc  uur  bodr 
Ibti  ijibt-nuclo  uf  tbc  ecnil  in  lifp  and  luedUi 
ou  th«  morrow :  fgr  tbu  luro  of  Oiy  S<m  our 
Saviour,  Jmuh  Christ,    Amen." 

\V&  urc!  wade  tn  tha  riuKt  prayt^r  to  ask  tliat  our  Qui'i'u  ui^y  "  so  ead  tliis 
life  in  pif^'y  a-wl  faith,  as  to  oxchsmjie  thL-  murtal  (or  Vht!  supi'mal  crowu." 
Anil  in  t]jM  wv^X  wo  jjm.v  lur  th^  "  H^'gal  Family  of  tliis  kinjjdoin,"  In  a 
[iraytT  for  the  nowly  bftiitixeil,  which  fnllow-j,  tljt.'  expression  "  sincts  our  last 
ESubhuth  "  ia  iiitvoiluci.'d  ;  a  nanirj  for  thp  Loril's  day,  fts  mt  nved  not  reniiud 
our  ri^adei'rt,  wholly  uJien  Ironi  the  usage  of  tho  (JhristimL  Huriptures,  and  uf 
the  (.'hiurh  \ji  England. 

Into  Ihu  Prayer  "  for  all  sorts  and  comlitiona  of  mon,"  tho  fuUowing  sea- 
tencQ  is  iutroductid  ; — 

"  We  ftleo  tnCient  the*  to  iHiTiJege  (  P  )  with  thy  presenr^t,  all  thoae  w!io,  Iiaving  a  d^re 
and  lou^g  to  enter  tbe  courts  of  the  Lord,  yet  through  o^o,  oare  or  inHroiit]-,  qiuat  tanj 
with  the  haugehold." 

Tho  concluding  pmycT  in  "Evening  Service"  we  cauuot  abstain  from 
l^dving  entire  : — 

"  A  Pro^tr  of  at.  ChrgiMlom  ;  "  or,  the  prayer,  "  ZtC  thin  bt  LighS." 

"0  God,  ourOod,  ntld  otir  fnthert'  God,  the  fountain  of  life  an  J  inimurtnlity,  we  look  for  thee 
ia  holiuesij,  mid  hctvi;  eoii|;bt  tbee  to-ilay  in  the  E4iut;tuuiy ;  may  holluw&d  iuccaao  of  praTor 
and  praise,  iiidanifd  from  the  brcnat  hv  Inilh,  hoyjo  and  charitT,  bare  men  up  b<:fin«  ILm 
BtiXjtA  upou  iheibembilli,  toti'tiini  ill  liliissinpi  most  fxpcdiL-ntfur  uh.  Atid  with  e»erj"  holy 
stTvit'p  tliut  brings  u^  DL-anr  and  ncuncr  to  our  Inst  nut  of  wmislup  up<in  earth,  bealow  an 
intrttiiai,'  of  y,Tme  to  bpthink  Uir)  of  d(?ath  and  t'ttfiTiitr  ;  In  livi;  nearer  Qwd  nearer  lo  thee: 
to  dio  Dcarcr  and  uearLT  lo  holiness  and  meutness  fiir  Keaven  :  and  at  our  eA-uuini^-lidB  of 
life  '  Let  there  be  light,"  the  presage  of  li^ht  tmd  Ut'o  Ptfraol.  the  fowsiijlil  of  lichol.ling 
thy  prcsL'nte  in  rightcfliisneas,  of  awotening  up  aftiT  Ihy  likeiioaa,  antlelii^d  in  glory,  tbo 
home  ot  the  soul,  ever  wilh  the  Lord.     Amen.     'Tia  imniortality." 

Wl'  have  made  tht'Sf  extract,!  Ufit  becauao  we  auiqiosii  tlmt  wivU;hi*J  Kwk 
to  be  of  the  slightest  iniportanee,  but  that  we  may  thow  our  ntaders  what  it 
IB  wM-ch  some  good  mtri  wimt,  who  urge  a  reviainn  of  our  Liturgj-.  The 
puhlicatimi  of  flutdi  revisioiiti  doea  gouiJ,  if  it  only  niiikuH  us  more  jealous  ovt-r 
what  wo  havt\  ami  Igss  iacUnwl  to  meddle  witl;  wonla  whosf  Wauty  and 
reveront  einiplicity  ia  ns  for  out  of  the  reach  of  the  present  gt-neratiuu  aj  'm 
their  confiding  faith,  and  power  of  lifting  the  soul  to  God, 

Tnt»i  in  Trial;  nr,  Lasaons  of  Peore  in  thp.  Sfhi>/)1  I'f  Aj^iifJinn.     Mfdit<t 1 

inniJi-,  Kith   Prmjerx  ami  N>/fji}Uf,  fur  Wvih  .S'iH'  imd  Srijerinff.      By  thw^" 
Rev.  W.  0,  PuRTON,  B.A.     London ;  Hunt  and  Co. 

Wb  can  thoroughly  Kjcommeml  thia  nnjiretending  littlB  book.     Its  hiii— 
gua^ti  i&  siutplu  and  ft'irent  :  liud  tho  reality  of  lil'o  in  uniou  with  HiiiB- 
who  iii  thu  Bourct!  of  oiir  life  is  I'oimd  hi  evury  one  of  it.^  meditjitions  ainL 
pi'sy^rs,     It  imPHossus  a]ao  oul'  minor  reeomiuemliition.     Tliw  ty|>e  is  excid- 
ient,  antl  tJie  form,  aueh  ay  laay  well  Iw  hthl  in  the  hand  in  hod^  and  lie  ua 
the  pillow. 


Notices  of  Books.  513 

Cmnmunion  Services  according  to  the  Prmhyterian  Form.  By  the  Rev. 
J.  A.  Wallace,  Author  of  "  Pastoral  EecoUections,"  &c.  Edinburgh  : 
Johnstone,  Hunter,  &  Co. ;  Loudon  ;  Haanilton,  Adams,  &  Co. 

It  is  really  delightful,  in  reading  the  meditations  and  devotional  exercises 
of  those  who  differ  from  ourselves  in  their  views  and  their  celebration  of  the 
Lord's  Supper,  to  meet  with  so  much  pure,  fervent  piety,  and  earnest  love 
for  our  common  Redeemer,  as  breathe  through  every  page  of  this  valuable 
little  work. 

Our  differences  are  abiding,  and  may  not  be  compromised  nor  trifled  with : 
but  let  us  thank  God  and  take  courage,  when  we  find  that  far,  far  beneath 
their  disturbing  influences  there  is  in  the  heart  of  both  Churches  the  "  well 
of  water,  springing  up  unto  everlasting  life  :"  that  in  both  the  true  believers 
feed  on  "  the  same  spiritual  meat,  and  are  refreshed  by  the  same  spiritual 
drink,"  May  this  little  volume  have  on  it  the  blessing  of  the  great  Head  of  all 
the  Churches,  and  tend  to  promote  His  glory  among  them  tlxat  shaU  use  it 

Studies  in  Parliament :  a  Series  of  Sketches  of  Leading  Politidana.  ^ 
R.  H.  HorroN.  (Reprinted  from  the  Pall  Mall  Oazette.)  London : 
Loi^mans.     1 866. 

Mr.  Hutton  is  not,  like  some  publicists  of  a  different  rank  who  have 
printed  parliamentary  sketches,  a  gossip,  a  caricaturist,  a  "  word-painter,"  a 
reporter,  an  artist  in  patehwork  reminiscences,  or  anything  of  the  kind.  It 
is,  perhaps,  unnecessary  to  say  this  to  readers  of  o\a  Review,  but  we  may 
emphasize  what  they  will  gather  for  themselves.  It  is  not  at  all  difficult  to 
write  agreeable,  telling  matter  about  public  men ;  and  sketehing  which 
passes  for  picturesque  is  now-a-days  "  cheap,  and " — too  often  the  other 
adjective  as  weU.  A  good  deal  of  facility,  and  an  equal  quantity  of  reck- 
lessness, will  carry  a  uTiter  over  a  large  number  of  pages  about  political 
scenes  and  persons,  and  he  will  be  found  entertainbig  enough.  The  late 
Mr.  Whitty  probobly  carried  the  art  of  the  rattling,  vivid,  sladiing,  political 
sketeher  as  far  as  it  ever  was  carried.  He  was  clever  to  a  fault,  and  said  a 
"  good  thing  "  every  few  lines  ;  he  had  humour,  sagacity,  and  a  natural  turn 
for  politics — a  more  exclusive  faculty  in  that  direction  tlian  Mr.  Hutton's. 
Yet  Mr.  Whitty's  parliamentary  sketches  (many  of  our  readers  will  remem- 
ber his  brilliant  aeries  of  papers  in  the  Leader)  were  clever  failures ;  they 
never  satisfied  the  mind  of  the  reader,  and  events  have  quite  falsified  some 
of  the  predictions  they  contained.  Take,  for  instance,  the  jjrophecy  that 
Mr.  Bright  would  never  become  an  influential  personage  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  because  he  could  not  or  would  not  conciliate,  compromise,  or  lay 
himself  out  for  a  personal  following.  Mr.  Bright'a  characteristics  were  not 
ill  sketehed  by  Mr,  Whitty  from  his  point  of  view,  but  he  foi^ot  that  there 
were  more  ways  than  one  to  political  influence,  and  that  a  massive  persistency 
like  Mr.  Bright's  must  tell  in  the  long  run.  It  was  not  in  his  power,  of 
course,  to  foresee  the  position  which  Mr.  Gladstone  would  come  to  occupy, 
and  the  way  in  which  that  would  affect  Mr.  Bright's;  but  he  did  not  alloto 
for  possibilities  arising  from  changes  in  the  march  of  the  pieces  on  the 
board.  Probably,  too,  the  power  of  the  persistence  of  principle,  whether  for 
jTood  or  fur  evil,  is  what  never  dawned  upon  Mr.  Whitty's  mind— as  it  now 
dawns  upon  minds  like  his — which  see,  as  he  saw,  party  combinations,  ins 
and  outs,  the  game  of  politics,  and  little  more.  Take,  as  another  instance, 
his  anticipations  for  Mr.  Robert  Lowe,  on  wliom  the  memory-  of  the  Kidder- 
minster brickbat  then  lay  fresh  and  green.  "There  is  an  Albino  among 
you,  gentlemen," — we  quote  from  memory, — "  who  will  be  a  great  man  if  he 
will  but  brirg  his  cleverness  down  to  working  range,"  Ac,  »tc.     That  must 


514 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


be  tliirteen  yeara  ago.  We  have  since  puen  "  the  Albino  among  yow,  gsntle- 
men,"  at  work.  Hb  has,  by  nature,  Bomo  of  the  elementB  of  grealnew  in 
liiiiij  bul  lliHise  who  belong  td  tlit!  eidc  Mr.  \"\Tiitty  tlioii  took  in  politics  (his 
niitural  gmvltal iou  was  triwarila  ToryLem)  would  now  Ijb  the  foremost  to 
Bay  that  tliu  vnJiy  thing  which  hiul  injured  Mr.  Lowe  waa  his  bringing  hk 
clovem&ja  duwn  to  working  range.  They  wonJ-l  with  one  vuice  maiutain 
that,  in  getting  tho  "working  miiyi',"  he  hatl  succificcl  the  habit,  if  not  the 
power,  of  taking  tliose  wider  nntl  higher  sweeps  of  thought,  on  the  cajmcity 
for  which  Mr.  Whitty'a  prophecy  was  found^tL 

Thure  was  once  a  widow  who  Btartli?d  a  stmnge  gcatleman  into  whose 
comjTituy  she  was  Buddcnly  thrown,  by  bursting  into  incinigruoUB  teary. 
""Why,  madam,  do  you  weepi"  jiohUily  .Tskcd  the  gLMitleniJin.  "OIi, 
sir,"  answered  tha  widowed  latly,  "yo\i  do  so  remind  uio  oC  iriy  Bate  hiis- 
baud!"  Upon  tlia  gentleman  in(]|ui^illg^  with  still  politer  .'5jTnii;tl!iyj  "Am 
I,  then,  80  lllte  himT"  tho  lady  replied,  with  a  fresh  guah  ot'weepingt  **0h 
dear,  no,  sir  !  it  was  hecnuse  you're  the  very  opposite  of  him  I "  It  is  not, 
however,  aimply  because  Mr.  Hattoa  is  the  very  opposite  of  Mr.  Wliitty 
(though  ho  is)  that  wo  havo  recalled  the  latter  and  hia  alietch4!a  in  Parlia- 
ment, but  because  he  ia  tho  <mhj  writer  we  can  rememhw,  of  anything 
approaching  the  rank  of  Mr.  Hutton,  aa  having  taken  in  hand  this  kind  of 
work.  He  presents  the  briliianb  joumdistic  type  at,  perhaps,  its  best.  It 
is  not  efLsy  to  conceive  a  more  sparkling,  effective  writer,  though  writers  of 
his  typo  are  common  enough.  Mr.  Hutton  is,  we  need  scarcoly  say,  a  pub- 
licist of  a  ditferent  and  far  higher  order.  He  gives  ue  kaibtnt  brightness 
instead  of  doubtful,  titiiig  sparkle,  and  generous,  HuDiit  humoui'  instead  of 
glittering  point  and  ■epigram,  wliich  you  liud — 

"    .    .    .    w  ail-but  just  BuccGcding" 

in  conveyicg  the.  right  idea.  The  matter  of  the  book  before  na  ia  solid  and 
Berioua,  but  always  pleasant,  aojliotimes-  cntei'taining ;  tliQ  oritument,  the  pIc-is- 
antry,  and  the  anecdote  not  being  stuck  on  like  &pangle.s,  or  just  pitched  in 
like  stonGji  into  a, pond,  but  Hoatiug  freely  and  faLrly  down  tho  current  of 
the  thonght  as  it  moves  ak'tig  to  ita  end.  liwiders  to  whom  politics  are 
&lmi>st  like  physic  may  take  thenj  in  this  "elpgant  preparation."  Learners 
may  go  to  Mr.  Hutton's  Bketchoa  fov  an  introductioa  to  the  pqlitica  of  the 
d»y;  the  most  nJvanced  students  "f  pubhe  affiiire  will  not  be  able  to  tnm- 
over  many  of  tho  pages  mthout  receiving  guidance,  corrolioratii>u.,  stiiuula- 
tion,  or  direct  instnictioo.  Pleosed  kvi^tij  reader  muiit  be.  The  autiiot-'s 
niutb.'r  lias  alw&ya  a  soul  in  it ;  he  never  gives  you  the  mere  "  shop  "  of  hia 
Bubject.  II(j  can  bo  agreenhlo  mthoutloaing  warmth  or  enerjjy;  and  just  t» 
those  whom  he  enticiiiea  without  allowing  hia  criticism  to  dcgeiwirale  into 
what  au  Amerieau.  essayist  called  "a  mush  of  cuncesaioiL."  In  the  jxiise, 
the  very  wmn^  and  yet  always  characteristiii  rhythm,  and  tlio  felicitoua 
coliiuiing  of  his  style,  he  ollen  reui.-hi-8  a  point  of  ■excalknoe  which  is  rarely 
reached  e.\et']rt  by  thnae  whu-so  buaintas  is  rather  poetry  than  politics.  'X'hij 
ajTiipatht'tic  tlejdbility  of  the  "  phrasing  "  (to  iise  a  rauaitiai  word)  is  often 
ver>'  striking.  The  paper  iiulilished  on  the  day  of  Mr.  Cohden's  funeral, 
and  sketching  with— we  were  really  on  the  point  of  saying  fnvkihh  felicity, 
the  chara^ttir  and  career  of  thrtt  gentleman,  is,  ■with  entire  naturalness,  dis- 
tinguished  from  all  tho  rest  (even  from  the  oue  hemled  "  Lord  Paluierston  ") 
by  the  liturgical  ring  of  tlio  opening.  The  aenteneea  ihronghout  have  a  gentle 
lar^ji\  and  there  is  aomuthing  of  the  sweep  of  the  mourning  robe  in  iht-m 
Tlie  IVlicity  of  the  metaphors  and  metaphorical  tuma  of  expression  is 
wonderful  in  its  nicety  of  truthfulness.  Mr.  Hutton  not  only  givea  you  an 
expressive  word  or  image,  he  gives  you  th^  word  aniK  image ;  and  it  stay 


NotUcs  of  Books. 


515 


in  the  miud  ami  kikeB  root  there  quite  naturally.     Nothing  can  "be  happier 
tlian  this,  for  example,  about  Lord  IJrouj^ham  : — 

"  A  h\iairKA-henii£d  Intelkct  wttli  brihU  hea4;  a  bgilf  of  eQosntric  orliit;  a  epn^moilirr 
niotJve-povi-er :  n  destntplive  sign  In  the  political  finaiiment.  .  .  .  Lord  Urougiimu 
boa  been  a  Hriareiia  iiideeii,  but  al«a  a  G-olintfa,. — q  PhiliRtine  incapabk-  of  Uie  hig-birr  Jis- 
iTJIMUlQlioni  brlivecn  fuTL'p  aiiJ  [io«;i."r ;  a  mnn,  wliosi?  Hpcor  wna  lUcB  a  '  wen-Tef's  bewji," 
but  who  hiu  hud  ua  tuJlut^ni'e  in  pro]iortiun  to  his  »Crvn,gth.  .  .  HU  eloquE'nae 
coiifiittnl  chitfiv  in  n  eBrtain  driring  furt'o;  ncTur  pillij",  but  propngatmg  n  gTHatliving 
power  tbirougli  ita  aiiaconiiu  J'olda,  anU  capable  of  0,  grent  eaprcssivL-uess  in  the  dirwitiou  of 
hate." 

And  here  is  another  instance  of  nmst  truthful  felicity  firom  the  essay  eji- 
titled  "  Mr.  Canlwell  :"— 

"  The  Pcelilr*,  aa  I'l'plites,  srere  not  properly  men  of  populut  sympntliies.  Ther  wer» 
for  Ibe  mosl  part  men  with  hereditary  fiacultics  for  buameaa — Sir  Robert  Peel  LimaMlf,  Mr. 
GlttdaUrae,  and  Mr,  Cardwull,  nil  having  dcrivgU  tboir  me-ans  from  Inrgij  Lanraahite-  huusus, 
nuTiufA'.-tiinnE:  or  rafnaintile— men  dfipply  tinned  wilh  Oxford  cultum  of  that  tone,  ut  imua 
prudential  anil  pioiia,  whirh  nvaTkc(i  tlic'OxfoTd  of  the  lust  jrenemtioji.  Ind&ed  we  moj- 
almoat  ia\  that  the  moat  chanutenittii;  '  nats'  of  tho  Pccliti^s  was  a  sort  Df  financial  pictir. 
Mr,  OlailHloce  etill  fi'L'la  finantie  almost  a  dGpartmenl  of  ivligio-n  ;  and  th^  late  LqirJ  llt-i- 
iKTt,  Ur.  CiLrdweH,  and  cvca  tbcir  t^^nchur.  Sir  Llohrrt  I'vd  bioiadf,  gvgt  npoku  on  finauira 
hi  if  it  were  a  topic  d-oarer  to  thuir  fLH^tin^  noarur  to  their  huarta,  than,  any  of  pufily 
politicnl  injportanco.  Tliisy  were  aaaiirfdlj  tho  fimt  atatPBinCft  to  make  the  ualiou  fiM'l 
tliat  the  siilijcir't  waa  cspribiQ  nf  a  certain  hoTDiDny  und  eveii  bFaiity  of  treatment  which 
raised  it  out  yf  the  depurtment  of  mere  business  into  ono  of  icsthetie  art," 

It  is  marveUou-tly  true,  too,  that  Mr,  BisraiiU's  lutuUent  is  like  a  cut 
Jlowet  stock  in  tlie  earth,  which  i*  fn^il  horn  no  ruyt,  ami  yet  does  ut>t  ftiJe. 
Very  fteqinjntly  in  these  \>a\!fi»  you  come  across  sentences  of  moral  criticism 
wliich  are  fj_uita  extra-ptiLUiciiU  and  wliitih  have  the  true  poetic  pithiness  in 
them.  Here  i&  one  exiimple  :— "i'oc  (iwyC/uer  [meauuiH  iit  Wj«//" of  another] 
there  is  no  more  thntoiighc^oing  utilitarian  tlinn  u  diainterestud  woman." 
How  ex<[ui.8itcly  tnie  I  how  nnnatt-ntatifiusly  said  1 

At  this  jjoint,  indeod,  wl-^  sLnko  the  Rpadi!  agauist  the  eaacntial  peculiarity 
of  Mr.  Hutton'a  political  imtinf^.  The  h-ma  of  all  hja  politicnl  criticiam  is 
not  any  set  of  political  id&nR,  which  Iiavo  no  rnure  vitnlity  tlian  a.  heap  of 
rubble  flung  under  tho  pier  of  a  hridge.  Tn  use  his  own  expression,  hia 
Judgm^ewts  have  always  a  viaihle  rdatioti  to  "dueper  nssumptiona  "than  miy 
which  apt;  usually  called  up  to  tell  politiuil  fortunes.  Koad  what  ho  saya  of 
Lord  Wcstbury  :^ 

Lord  Weatb^ity  iinpr«s!i»  thci  wofld  sji  A  Bctptlc  ID  Apitfi  Of  that  famous  lechiK  to  the 
,g  Men's  Cllinstimi   Association  of  Wolverhannpton, — o  »ceplic  who  boliuT«a  in  '  the 
<S1tic«  of  the  undiirstcmdiiij;,'  but  littlo  onou^rh  in   the  iCecper  auumpHant  on   wfiuh 
t^OM  yymtnrtfes  rtly  in  orfyr  to  gel  »  pttruhaM  aad  a psint  of  depwiara." 

Again,  id  Mr  Diarath  ; — 

"  Hia  lutnmpriiini  sre  nut  those-  of  tbo  English  or  .my  other  people— 'the  Scmitiu  in- 
cluded. Tiobably  thoru  u  uoihlng  that  wa  caa  alrictly  call  aond  uffiuuf  tiou  in  Mr. 
Di^raeH'a  mind  at  nil." 

And  again,  of  Mr.  Bright : — 

"  Mr.  l''>ni|>]it  kauwa  as  vcU  as  any  man  that  the  Soaoa  basis  of  our  laniguag-VF  strong, 
homely,  and  nil-important  us  it  la,  tannot  quite  dispcnsa  with  tbs  aid  of  the  cDj^atted 
Latin  [-k'mtnli,  and  nn  gri^at  oiatoi"  i'vrr  u*ed  Ihp  lutlcr  with  such  happy  and  jkilliil  ilis- 
iTimin-adoii.  A  critical  eye  tan  *i^Eiri'ely  rend  a  Birgle  speech  of  Tiis  wilhout  being  atruck 
by  thi«.  Take,  as  th*  briefe4C  illutCraUon  we  cui  giT*.  tte  contlusion  of  that  greui;  spG>,-tlt 
is  which  be  auttcipnted  tho  tunu  when  '  England,  the  miyitet  tiLother  of  free  nutiooB,  tkbiill 
bereelf  h«  free,'  Mr.  Bright,  judged  by  hu  political  cresd  aloue^  had  seaicely  a  rigM  to 
that  term  '  august.'  " 

ThiB  last  is  a  etriking  intitanae  of  wluit  we  mean.  It  ia  perfectly  true, 
and,  to  minds  of  a  cei-tain  order,  uhvious,  that  Mr.  Bright  had  no  business 
■with  the  wirrd  "  august "  in  that  place.  The  santii  kind  of  insight  is  found 
in  the  fi'Uo*.vi;ty  pn-sags  : — 


VBJUD: 
Mow  I 


5r6 


Thi  Contemporary  Review. 


"Whatever  Lord  Hubif'II'h  faults,  of  all  staUsmen  of  our  oim  ilay  he  lias  ever  bIlowii 
tho  nwl  deep  and  insmiiu^'rl  ayinpntliy  with  popular  ^roN/om.  In  iLig  respect  ucitlier 
Lord  pAlmenton,  nor  Mr.  C  bdatoiii',  aur  any  otlicr  t>r  our  atatGEmea,  ciui  rcikily  BippKiiult 
hin>,  Mr.  Glodstone  is  ihotc  toTidiT  and  humane,  lias  a  liir  dccppr  hotror  of  ptipukf 
tufftriiig,  and  tlien?fore  of  wnr,  tLan  Lord  Kubsl-U  ;  fur  Lord  UuEsolt's  synjpathy  witi  free- 
dOM,  like  all  true  ti/itiprtthij  itith  frrtdom,  hat  tamrlhing  a  iiltie  sharp  and  iirm  a6oNt  if — a 
JUtie  of  the  efd  Piiritun  Twtttii>tct.i  reietkey  it  ht  happy  er  whappi/  frcrdtim.  This  u  & 
mood  of  mind  which  the  prcjtcnt  iLgu  is  olmaH  k'imiiiig  to  fgnorc,  but  ir^  depth  in  l^^id 
RussfU  liiLB  dont  ua  good  Bi^rvk'e,  not  oiily  in  the  agitatiou  for  Catholic  EiiMticipation  aait 
RefoTm,  bwt  receully  in.  suvitig  us,  through  him,  from  cnaticg  iii  our  Bympathies  lUft 
nation  with  the  Blnve'OwaorB  of  tho  So"thfrti  Statta." 

How  well  thought  is  this  again,  and  how  well  said  !  This  quickness  of  eye 
for  the  "purthase  and  point  of  depiLrti.ire"  that  must  lie  presumed  for  a  pei«oii*a 
life  i3  in  Mr.  Hutton  a  not  iiifi'eiiuont  aotirce  of  real  hmnouT'— for  though 
not  a  Joket  [abttit  ojncn),  he  is  a  huinouriist.  The  toiusequence  of  all  this — 
iine  coiiaequesce  of  it,  ia  tliat  Mr.  Hutton  i&  not  likely  to  comjnit  himsL-lf  to 
half  views  or  false  pmiihccies  like  those  which  We  briefly  tt^letreU  to  just 
How  for  a  purpose.  Xor  is  there,  Wo  think,  in  nil  tho  book,  &  sauitttce 
which  is  not,  in  the  high  sl-osp,  guard^-'d :  that  ie,  not  that  the  writer  flinches 
front  L'xprcssinfi  ojiiiiinms,  or  puts  thi'in  vagnelj-,  hut,  having  seea  th« 
"  deeper  assumptions  "  of  tho  casu,  hii  Iluds  it  comparatively  easy  to  Ciist  his 
dii^io  in  t  mould  the  wholm  cunKKutntJon  of  wluth  exhibits  the  natiirul 
limitations  of  the  Eidyoct.  Itf-mdurM  of  thH  Ci/utf}i'j'i>r(iry  Jiciiop  who  shrink 
with  horror  from  those  "brilliant"  !ijW«  written  by  "  clever "  uh?ti,  wliicb 
are  "  swords  in  tho  loins  "  to  all  who  think  literature  is  som«tKing  more 
than  n.  gyiiinastic  tUeplay,  may  take  up  Mx.  Huttoit,  sure  of  being  reD^ahed 
by  bi*i  Ixiok, 

The  essays  on  Lonl  Piiliaerston  and  Lord  Erougliani  strike  ua  us  lw:ing 
scarcely  so  cxhaustivt;  aa  th*:  writer  ntfrmt  theni  to  he  J  "  Lord  Palnifr- 
eton,"  however,  wa,s  written  imnu^ilintely  after  that  distinguishtd  man's 
death,  whesi  ttindcmL'ss  was  (he  natural  key  of  every  discussion  of  his 
cffliver-;  and  beaidos,  the  :itl:i.'ntive  reader  will  euppkiiicnt  it  by  impttrlLug 
a  sentence  out  of  tlio  essay  on  Mr.  Stansfeld.  It  is  no  reprir-ai-h  to  auy 
man  not  to  have  madLi  Lord  Brougham  intelligible  ;  but  there  hna  Iteen  iit 
him  a  consistency  (of  intent  <it  least)  on  the  intentctual  and  piirc-t^tbical  sidi* 
which  might  help  the  student  of  that  great  puzzle.  Mr.  IluUon  justly 
condemns  the  sarcasm  which  malteahim  out — like  the  foxhiinting,  driidcin^, 
duelling,  blarneying,  bhmdfcring  "  Irish  Att^iriipy"  in  the  farcr,  who  \ttts  so 
IKithetteally  moved  by  the  chai'ge — "  no  lawyer."  Lord  ISroughani  may  safely 
be  called  ji  Qrent  litwyer;  and,  indeed,  reading  an  inaugund  discourse  of  hi* 
the  cnther  day,  dtliven::*!  perhaps  forty  years  a|i;i>,  we  fancied  we  discerned 
lines  of  greutncsa  there  too.  It  is  difficult  to  waiiH  up  ab'.iut  L011I  lVi'«t- 
bury  ;  but  we  half  think  Mr.  Hutton  does  imperfect  juetice  to  the  versatile 
"  applicative  strength  "  of  the  man's  hraJn,  Wince  Poloyj  has  there  ln.-wi  ifl 
Britain  so  clear  a  head  1 

We  will  only  add  thiit  Sir.  Hutton's  list  of  "  Studies "  fIiows  eflruful 
selection  with  an  eye  to  th«  interejstB  of  the  pnieent  honr  (the  manner  of 
treatment  is  of  univetsal  applicability),  and  iui;ludes  not  only  the  chief  of 
the  1,'ahinet.,  and  of  tho  OjipoBition,  hut  tho  latest  arrivals,  Buch  as  Mr. 
Goschen,  Mr.  Stansfeld,  and  ilr.  Forstor. 


Vmkatk  j>-  No.  IL^pojnposHors  nppenr  to  Jinvfl  a  epilc  nguioBt  if,  ^nhir  Hihum' 
whps*!  uttnie,  Ijuving  been  iin'orrcclly  prinUiti  JrjcMnc  IJatmsarH'    in    Tpo-f.    Fswrel    . 
LecfiireR,  nppfnra  ns  Arsitu  ffour-mifg  in  the  atU-cniited  correction  in  p.  3S3.     La  p.  2Sl, 
fnr  "  docleura  dts  Icttrea  "  rend  "  dodeuri-ts-lellrta,"    In  Ihia  oad  similar  aeadcDiici  titlM^ 
"  ta  "  reprcBcnta  "  en  t6i." 


UNIVERSITY  REFORM  IN  RELATION  TO 
THEOLOGICAL  STUDY. 


J.  The  ReporU  tif  U<  Oxfard,  CaaHiridge,  and  diUln  Unittriilr  Com- 
nittioHO-M. 

S.  Tilt  Oxford,  Cambridfie,  and  DtMia  UniterHty  Calatdarl. 

8.  Index  Behoianm  in  Vniveriltate  LUeraria  Predrriciana  llalenti  mm 
yutborpaui  amtgciald  per  Himtem  Anni  1860-66,  h  dU  10  Oct.,  Mtqut 
ad  d.  IT  Marin,  publici  prii-alimgit  Habendarual.    HkIm 

4.  Huber,  Gathiehit  der  EngUtchm  Vuiterrilditn. 

5.  Bir  WiUiain  IfamUton'i  DkcuitUm*. 

THE  state  and  action  of  the  two  great  Euglish  Universities,  more 
especially  of  Oxford,  are  attracting  so  much  attention,  that  the 
readers  of  the  Contemporary  Bcviexo  will  not  he  surprised  to  see  an 
article  on  the  subject  in  an  early  number.  A  large  and  influential 
meeting  was  held  last  November,  in  the  hall  of  Oriel,  to  consider  how 
the  benefits  of  University  education  could  be  extended  beyond  the 
comparatively  small  class  that  now  enjoys  them.  An  institution  like 
the  University  of  Oxford,  with  all  the  prestige  of  venerable  antiquity 
and  illustrious  fame,  "  the  very  heart  of  England ;"  its  colleges  pos- 
sessing revenues  which  count  not  by  tens,  but  by  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands of  pounds  sterling,  and  which  will  soon  be  vastly  augmented ; 
having  still,  after  all  suppressions  and  appropriations,  between  four 
and  five  hundred  fellowships  to  reward  pre-eminent  merit,  and  giving 
away  each  year  one  hundred  and  fifty  scholarships,  might  surely  be 
expected  to  allure  into  its  schools  more  than  four  hundred  and  fifty, 
or  even  five  hundred  students  annually :  and  though  Cambridge,  with 
less  wealth,  has  hitliert*  had  more  undergraduates  than  Oxford,  the 
numbers  on  its  books  are  still  not  enough  to  satisfy  the  sense  of  due 
proportion  between  means  and  end,  outlay  and  result :  nor  do  they  bear 
any  proportion  to  the  expectations  which  the  ever-increasing  wealth 

VOL.  I.  3  M 


5iS 


7V^  Contemporary  Review, 


nnd  population  of  England  might  natiimlly  mtsa     Tliia  Btate  of  things 
is  by  no  means  of  recent  growth ;  but  recent  circumstances  Lave  power- 
fully caUeJ  attention  to  it,     In  former  days  the  great  bulk  of  the 
youth  educated  at  Oxford,  and  a  very  large  ]]roportion.  of  those  is^ho 
gi-aduated  at  Cambridge,  took  Orders  in  the  Enjjlish  Church ;  so  that 
men  without  an  acadamiual  degree  ■were  rarely  seen  in  her  pulpits, 
except  in  the  poorer  and  more  rugged  noithem  tounties.  for  whosii 
Bpiritual  wants  fclie  seminary  of  St.  Bees  was  originally  intended  to 
proWde.    But  of  late,  whilst  increasing  popidation  and  the  consequeut 
sulidivistou  of  parishes  are  constantly  calling  lor  more  clergy,  the 
proportion   of  graduates  who  "enter   the  Church,"   to   use  a  con- 
veaiient  though  inaccurate  phrase,  has  rapiilty  diminiehecL      Some 
years  ago,  one-Jifth, — at  the  last  ordinations,  oiu-titird,  are   said  t<^ 
have  been  litetates.     Tliis  is  a  most  undesirable  atate  of  things;  for 
Tnthont  disparaging  zeal  and  piety,  these  qualities  cannot  siipply  the 
■n-ant  of  that  wider  and  more  refined  cidtivation,  and  of  that  scholar- 
ship, which,  in  the  rule,  can  only  be  attained  by  nn  education  cidmi- 
nating  at  tlie  University.     Not  is  it  well  that  an  inrreasing  projwr- 
tion  of  the  ministers  of  the  Church  shoidd  be  taken  fixim  a  lower  rank 
of  life.      The  condition  of  the  Galilean  Chimdi  abroad,  an<i  of  the 
Eomiah  Church  in  Ireland,  gives  a  significant  ■miming  of  the  ineWt- 
able  result.     What  the  fate  of  the  lingbsh  Chnrcii  would  he  if  her 
pulpits  were  ehieHy  fdled  with  devout  and  intrepid  Jissertors  uf  verKil 
insiuration,  ready  to  challenge  men  of  science  to  an  imeiiual  couiiid 
i]i  the  attempt  to  "  reconcile  CJenesia  and  geolog}'," — imfamiliar  witii 
modern  thonglit,  ns  it  is  found  in  those  seniinaTies  of  refinetl  schoIa^ 
slnp,  where  the  most  accomplished  youth  of  the  nation  and  their 
instruetoTs  mntnally  develop  it, — and  meeting  critical   or    acieulJfiB 
difliculties  by  evangelical  anathemas  or  ritualistic  pomp — it  is  easy  to 
conjecture.    A  highly  cultivated  clergy  is  rtMjuired  to  iead  the  religious 
thought  of  a  highly  cultivated  people.    The  religion  of  the  midtitudfl 
will  not  rise  above  the  intellectual  level  of  its  teaclit'ra.     Accfirdiiigh". 
the  [liminiahed  supply  of  gntduates  at  their  ordinations  has  rouectl 
tlie  misgivings,  of  several  of  the  bimhops,  and  contributed  to  aniuiat* 
the  proceedings  ol'  the  Oriel  ineeting.     Nor  can  the  diocesan  theologi- 
cal eoUeges,  ■\vhidi  have  lately  sprmig  np,  sati^iy  the  emergency.     U 
BO  far  as  they  are  auxiliary  to  the  Univereities,  by  giving  some  thfu- 
logical  training  to  men  who  have  taken  degrees  in  arts,  they  uiily 
arouse  a  feeling  of  discontent  i\ith  those  venerable  bodies  which,  with 
BO  much  larger  means  and  apparatus,  and  with  the  cominand  of  tlic 
choice-st  intellect  of  the  country,  yet  give  a  training  in  theologi-  »> 
inaflequate  as  to  require  being  thus  Bupplemouted  :  whilst,  in  30  tar 
as  they  enable  men  who  have  never  bad  a  University  education  to 
qualify  for  Orders,  they  are  only  contributing  Lti  flood  the  land  with 


University  Reform  in  Relation  to  Theological  Study.    5 1 9 

a  clergy  whose  predominance  in  numbers  and  influence  would  be 
disastrous  to  the  Church. 

Various  causes  may  be  assigned  for  the  diminished  supply  of  Univer- 
sity men.  The  throwing  open  of  the  Indian  and  Civil  Services  to 
competition ;  the  immense  development  of  our  commerce,  and  the 
corresponding  rise  in  estimation  of  commercial  pursuits;  the  new 
career  opened  by  colonization  to  our  youth, — all  these  things  have 
given  much  greater  choice  to  young  men  then  they  used  to  have,  and 
multiplied  the  possibilities  of  life.  And  besides  increased  allurements 
from  without,  there  is  a  decrease  of  attraction  within  the  Church. 
Her  wealth  is  much  more  evenly  distributed  and  less  strikingly  dis- 
played than  it  used  to  be ;  the  prizes  are  not  so  great,,  and  the  general 
position  of  clergymen  is  probably  not  quite  so  high  as  formerly.  And 
though  it  may  be  said  that  men  should  be  influenced  by  higher  motives 
in  the  choice  of  the  clerical  jirofession,  it  is  obvious  that  not  only 
their  own  feelings,  but  the  plans  and  wishes  of  their  parents,  will  be 
greatly  modified  by  other  tlian  merely  spiritual  considerations. 

But  besides  the  foregoing  reasons,  it  is  possible  there  may  be  a 
further  cause  for  the  diminished  supply  of  graduates  to  the  Church. 
Clerical  training  has  not  kept  pace  with  the  training  for  other  pro- 
fessions. And  thougli,  at  first  sight,  this  might  seem  rather  to  bold 
out  an  inducement  to  enter  the  ministry,  as  requiring  less  study 
and  self-denial  than  other  professions  do,  it  may  very  possibly  act  in 
the  directly  opposite  way.  There  is  a  generous  enthusiasm  in  youth 
which  is  not  satisfied  %vith  that  which  costs  no  trouble,  ■which  turns 
away  from  that  which  excites  no  interest.  And  this  feeling  will  be 
naturally  strongest  when  the  neglected  subject  is  one  wliich  takes  up 
so  much  attention,  and  engages  the  minds  of  men  so  much,  as  the 
subject  of  religion  does.  "When  youths  at  the  University  perceive 
that  the  momentous  questions  which  are  unsettling  men's  minds  do 
not  aeem  to  rouse  to  greater  activity  those  bodies  which  should  be 
specially  concerned  about  tliem,  it  is  no  wonder  if  they  are  chilled  and 
perhaps  a  little  disgusted  with  this  apathy.  The  diminished  supply 
of  University  men  to  the  ministry  may  partly,  therefore,  be  ascribed 
to  the  neglect  of  theology  at  the  Universities.  The  present  paper 
will  confine  itself  to  some  considerations  and  suggestions  on  this  latter, 
subject. 


"The  absence  of  any  efficient  theological  training  at  tlie  Univer- 
sities which  profess  to  feed  the  ministry  of  the  Chureh  is  a  crying  evil, 
which  nothing  but  the  acquiescence  in  anomalies,  characteristic  of  tliis 
country,  woiUd  have  suffered  to  remain.     It  is  not  too  much  to  say 


5:?o 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


tliat  there  is  no  couatiy  of  Europe,  rrot^staot  or  Komanist,  in  whi 
so  anomalous  a  state  of  tilings  exists :  ev«iy  Church — Lutbei^an,  ll 

loriU'ed,  or  Itomisli — but  our  tn*ii  pi-ovklea  that  her  iiiiiiUtei"s  sli; 
Hiulergo  two  or  tliree  years  of  tlieoli'igical  study  and  prepprtitjou  U'l'u' 
they  enter  on  their  office."*     It  is  a  disgraceful  fact,  that  these  wo 
are  still  as  true  as  wlicu  they  were  originally  iienned  fifteen  yea! 
ngo;   and  it  is  the  more  disgraceful,  because  the  grctit  foundatio 
which  have  bo  negleeteil  their  duty  to  the  Clmi-ch  owe  almost  all  thei 
■wealth  to  ecclesiastical  ideo^,  and  were  umch  more  iuteudeil  to  pro- 
vide for  eculeaiaatical  than  for  secular  juiipnses.     Oxlurd  cud  Cnin- 
hridge  men  must  he  awaro  of  the  state  of  the  case,  though  it  may  be 
doubted  whtstlier  they  are  safliciently  aUve  to  it:  for  the  benefit  of 
ntlieis  it  may  he  wyll  tu  ^ive  a  sketch  of  the  nalare  and  aiuoiuit  of 
the  theological  education  provided  by  the  richest  Universities  for 
future  clergy  of  the  richest  t'hnrch  in  the  world. 

At  l.)xI'ord  there  ave  six  proJessors  of  divinity,  or  its  cognate  su 
jects, — the  Iieyius,  Lady  Margaret's,  the  Professors  of  Ecclesiastical 
History,  of  FastortJ  and  of  Exegetical  Theology,  and  of  Hebrew.  lb 
is  hardly  necessary"  to  add  that  these  professors  are  amply  eudoHed, 
hehig  all  of  them,  except  the  Professor  of  E.xegetical  Theology,  canon* 
of  Christ  Church,  whilst  the  lieyius  Professor  enjoys  moreover  the 
living  of  Ewelme.  Probably  uot  leas  thaa  sbi  thousand  pounds  a 
year,  perhaps  a  good  deal  more,  is  tlms  spent  on  the  staff  of  tu- 
structors  in  theology.  Let  ns  now  see  what  is  the  amount  of  instruc- 
tion imparted. 

Each  candidate  for  Holy  Ordera  ia  roiiuired  to  attend  not  sic,  but 
two  courses  of  lectures,  each  of  these  compulsory  courses  being  com- 
pleted in  a  suiigle  ttsrui !  How  many  lectures  are  delivered  in  each 
such  course  the  ■WTiter  is  not  aware  I'roiu  personal  kuuMlcdge  ;  hut  the 
liegius  Professors  used  to  consist  of  ^irc/rc  lecturea.-f'  li^o  that  in  » 
single  term  after  the  youth  haa  taken  his  Bachelor's  dcgitc,  he  ia 
<iualificd,  in  tlie  judgment  of  the  autlmritics,  for  ordijiation !  "Whilst 
he  hjLS  heen  spending  tliree  years,  or  twelve  term?,  uu  his  course  in 
arts,  not  to  say  anything  uf  the  time  spent  jirevioualy  at  school, 
twelve  or  fourteen  weeks  ia  regarded  as  sufficient  to  spend  upon 
theology !  It  is  no  answer  to  thia  to  aay  that  tlie  undci^-mduaie 
course  at  Oxfoi-d  embraces  q  good  deal  of  theohigical  iufonuatinn, 
unless  it  he  supposed  that  teacliei's  of  religion  nt^ed  hardly  any  know- 
ledge of  the  subject  beyond  that  which  every  educated  gentlemaw 
sliould  have. 

But  if  the  student  ia  not  overburdened  with  lectures,  nor  distracted 

"  Evidence  of  tlie  Rev.  E.  A.  Litton.    OxrorclCmTBisity  Comiuiasioa  Eeport;  Evidimja,  : 
[1.  177.     S*p  nlflO  Kl'V.  D.  MiiIville'B  ovidtate,  p.  55. 
t  Oxford  Commisaion :  Evidence  of  Dr.  JocoTimh,  p.  263. 


,  of        I 
ub^ 


University  Reform  in  Relation  to  Theological  Study.    521 

by  too  great  a  variety  of  subjects,  perhaps  a  rigorous  examination  at 
the  end  of  these  two  formidable  courses  insures  liis  having  profited  to 
the  utmost  by  the  httle  he  has  lieard.  Not  at  all :  there  is  indeed  an 
examination,  but  attendance  at  it  is  quite  optional ;  the  certificates  he 
must  present  are  given  not  for  his  tested  proficiency,  but  for  his 
bodily  presence  in  the  lecture-room. 

If  it  be  asked,  What  can  be  done  in  a  course  of  twelve  lectures  ? 
the  best  answer  will  be  given  by  Dr.  Jacobson's  syllabus  of  his 
course .•     Here  it  is : — 

"  Lecture  I.  Introductory  to  the  Study  of  Theology  and  some  Points  of 
Clerical  Duty, 

"  II.,  III.  On  some  of  the  Aids  to  arriving  at  the  Sense  of  Holy  Scrip- 
ture. 

"  IV.,  V.  On  the  Creeds,  particularly  on  the  three  incorporated  into  our 
own  Services. 

"  VI.,  VII.  On  the  Study  of  Church  History. 

*'  VIII.  On  the  Continental  Reformation. 

"  IX,  On  the  English  Reformation. 

"  X,,  XL  On  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer. 

*'  XII.  On  some  of  the  Practical  Duties  of  a  Clergjinan  in  Charge  of  a 
ParisK" 

Fancy  what  kind  of  discussion  such  a  subject  as  the  Continental 
Reformation,  or  the  English  Reformation,  or  the  practical  duties  of  a 
parish  priest,  can  receive  within  the  limits  of  a  single  hour !  or  wliat 
can  be  done  to  elucidate  the  study  of  Church  history  in  two  hours ! 

Of  course  the  University  does  not  object  to  her  alumni  attending 
all  the  six  courses  delivered  by  the  six  professors.  But  they  are 
not  required  to  do  so ;  and  in  such  cases  the  minimum  required  will 
generally  he  the  maximum  performed.  This  is  indeed  pretty  clear 
from  the  evidence  of  the  Regius  Professor;  for  wliilst  his  public 
course — ^wliich  is  repeated  three  times  each  year  for  the  convenience 
of  students,  so  that  they  may  not  be  detained  at  the  University  more 
than  one  term  after  they  have  passed  the  final  school  in  arts — was 
attended  (in  1850)  by  an  aggregate  number  of  two  hundred  and  thirty- 
four,  his  private  and  unconipulsory  lectures,  delivered  three  times  each 
week,  were  only  attended  by  numbers  varying  from  three  to  twenty- 
six  :  the  average  attendance  foi"  each  term  being  exactly  thirteen  If 

I  am  not  aware  tliat  there  has  been  any  material  difference  in  the 
numbers  attending  of  later  years :  the  courses  delivered  do  not  seem 
to  have  materially  altered. 

"We  now  proceed  to  tlie  sister  University.  Cambridge  possesses 
four  professors  of  divinity, — the  Regius,  Lady  Margaret's,  the  Norrisian, 
and  the  Hulsean,  besides  a  professor  of  Hebrew.  Lady  Margaret's  is 
probably  the  richest  in   the  kingdom,  being  endowed   with   a   net 

«  Oxford  Eeport :  firidence,  p.  223.  t  Jbid. 


522 


Tk^  Coniempormy  Review. 


inrnme  of  moru  than  eiyliteeii  huudred  poimds  a  year,  out  ot"  whifl], 
however,  the  present  profogsor  nobly  Je^'otes  scTen  hundred  a  yeair  t<j 
the  Ijuildin^f  uf  a  divinity  School     Kyr  is  the  Kegius  I'vofeasor  to 
jiitietl,  his  inoonje  hying  about  twelve  huudretl  pounds  a  yeai*.     Tlie 
I'lTjffgsur  ^'f  Hc'hrew  is  idao  adequately  provided  for  by  a  stall  in  Elyj 
The  XoiTkiftti  Pmfesstir,  however,  seems  to  ctinipensatc  by  liis  poverty 
for  the  wealth  of  the  older  awl  statelier  fmindatinns,  lus  whole  pro-, 
fussf^rial  income,   according  tn  the  f'^anibridge  Oalendar,  being  onl] 
one  hundred  and  tliirty-five  pounds  it  year. 

Snch  being  the  tIieolnyi<;al  staif,  let  U3  seu  whnt  U36  the  students' 
are  rGquircd  to  maka  of  it.     Aiid  here  the  authorities  of  Cambridge 
fall  short  even  of  the   modersitu  demands   of  (Oxford;    for  while  at 
Oxford  two  courses  are  impemtive,  iit  Cambridge  on-c  course,  which 
may  consist  of  ten  lectures,  is  sufficient !     And  e\'en  this  solitaiy 
course  is  only  indirectly  imposed  thus  :  Iliirdly  any  bishop  ivill  now 
ordain  a  Cambrid*,'e  luau  unless  ho  ha^e  passed  what  is  still,  by  au 
amusing  bull,  caJled  the  "  tvlu-aiai'ff  theologiuftl  examination,"  and  no- 
student  is  admitted  to  this  uideaa  he  produce  a  certificate  of  attend- 
ance on  ow  course  of  divinity  lectures.     But  whose  course,  aiid  what 
its  subject,  are  matters  with  which  the  University  does  not  trouble 
itseilf,     .So  that  there  is  no  systematic  training  iu  ilivinity,  so  far  Mj 
the  few  lectures  reiiuii"ed  on  the  snbject  are  concerned. 

Professorial  teachin<,',  or  indeed  all  teaching,  in  theoloijy  being  treated 
witli  gucli  carelessiiesa  by  tlie  English  Universities,  it  is  no  wonder 
that  it  should  be  slighted  by  the  students.  At  Cambridge  forty  ia 
Said  to  be  a  hir^^o  class ;  and  though  at  Oxford  the  numbers  attendit. 
the  T'^giils  I'rnfessar  are  inutih  greater,  this  must  be  ascribed  in  great' 
tiivftsm-e  to  the  fact  that  his  lectures  are  generally  con-sidei-ed  compul- 
sory on  all  Oxford  canditSatea  for  Orders,  while  at  Cambridge  no  pro- 
fessor enjoys  the  simw  reputyJ  uir.nopoly  of  compulsioa. 

It  is  indeed  sometimes  said  that  the  deficiencies,  of  public  instruc-^i 
tion  are  compensated  by  the  amount  of  private  rejiding  through  whtcli^H 
candidates  for  Orders  are  compelled  tn  go.     This  defence  has  some 
shadow  of  trutli,  so  far  as  the  Universities  are  concc;rned,  at  Cam- 
bric^je ;  at  O.tford  it  has  nime.     For  no  examination  ia  there  rrquirtd 
of  the  sfciulent  in  divinity.     And  though  the  "voluntary  theoloigical" 
dues  LMifuree  some  reading  on  those  who  aUuid  it  successfully,  it  miwt 
after  all  be  very  elementary,  since  it  may  be  passed  wltliin  twelve 
weeks  ni'ter  the   stmlent   has   taken   his   degiiee.     "What   would  lie 
thought  if  the  Uuiveraity  oflered  to  confer  its  degrce-s  within  twel™ 
weeks   of  matiiculatiou !    But  what  would   be   scouted   in  Aiis 
calinly  accepted  in  Theology. 

.No  doubt  the  defects  in  their  theological  schools   are  not  to 
charged  solely  on  the  two  Universities.     They  cannot  enlbr-ce  atteud- 


1 


University  Reform  in  Relation  to  Theological  Study.    523 


once  on  tlieolut,^Ciil  lecturea,  or  the  paasinj^  of  tkeolu'^ical  examiua' 
ttons.  Thia,  if  it  is  to  be  done,  must  lie  done  by  the  biabopa,  Thty 
cau  ordaiii  wboni  tliey  please ;  and  it'  tliey  drj  not  choose  to  reyuire 
anytliiuj^  mtn'e  li'om  Uuivemty  eaiitUdates  for  Orders,  tlieae  will  uut  be 
likely  to  do  more.  But  on  the  other  iiaud.  the  way  in  wUick  tlie 
bisbo[i.s  laid  hold  <A  the  "  voluntary  tbt-oluyical"  at  Cambridge  sufJi- 
ciently  proves  that  they  are  anxious  to  meet  the  Universities  half- 
way \  they  will  be  ready  enough  to  eDforee  proper  theologiual  coui'sea 
if  the  UuLversities  will  only  provide  them.  By  gi^'ing  utmlifyiug 
courses,  which  extend  (jvei."  one  t^vni,  or  twtdve  lectures  only,  the 
authorities  of  the  Universities  are  doing  their  beat  to  lull  asleep  the 
couBuience  of  both  can^lidates  for  Orders  and  bishops.  How  can  the 
fonner  be  expected  to  do,  and  the  latter  to  exact  morSj  when  Kegiuit 
Profeasors  virtually  declare  that  so  mucli  is  enough?  It  Might  be 
almost  better  that  no  lectures,  no  instruction,  should  be  ^iven,  than 
that  snth  a  atandartl  of  satliciency  should  be  set  up  by  such  high, 
authority.  Here,  at  any  rate,  "  the  hali'  is  surely"  wtt  "  better  than 
the  whole." 

Tills  state  of  things  is  the  less  pardonable  in  England,  because  a 
good  example  lias  l»een  set  by  Ireland.  Whatever  the  defects  of  the 
Irish  Chxirch  or  of  the  Irish  University,  tlie  authorities  of  neither 
can  be  char{,'ed  with  neglecting  to  prepare  youny  men  for  Holy  Orders. 
The  University  of  Dublin  prescribes,  and  the  Irish  bi&bopa  exact,  & 
divinity  coui-ae  of  not  less  than  t^^io  aimpkit  aauhniic  yctirs.  Tliis 
cfiurse  comprises  lectures  by  the  two  divinity  pTofeasoi-a  and  their 
assistants,  at  the  rate  of  four  each  week,  two  bemg  professorial  and 
two  tutorial,  during  six  wccka  of  each  term,  for  a  period  of  sL";  terms ; 
each  year  closing  with  an  examination  which  tests  not  only  the  atten- 
tion of  the  student  to  the  uistrnctiou  he  has  received  frum  the  pro- 
feasors  and  their  assistants,  but  hia  proficieniiy  in  a  very  considemble 
conrse  of  wading.  Ilesides  these  lectures,  which  are  absolutely  com' 
pulsory  on  every  candidiite  for  Holy  Orders  from  the  University  of 
Dublin,  inducemcuj:s  are  held  tint  to  attend  lectures  also  on  Hebrew, 
the  Gi-eek  of  the  New  Testament  and  Septuagint,  Ecclesiastical 
History,  and  Moral  Pliilosophy ;  the  coutbbs  in  some  of  these  bmuches 
extendinj^  likewise  over  two  years,  so  that  the  learner  ia  taken  over  a 
hii^e  siufiicc  of  iuatruction.  And  if  tlie  results  do  nut  alwtiys  apjiear 
to  correspond  with  the  excellence  of  the  system,  the  blame  must  i-est 
not  so  much  on  the  Divinity  .School,  as  on  tiie  general  state  of  tha 
Ifniversity.  Kcsideuce  is  not  euforcetl  at  Dublin  except  on  diradty 
students,  aud  thus  the  yood  eflects  of  academic  life  and  traininj*  ara 
lost  to  the  niajority  of  the  undergraduates ;  the  pass  esannuations  in 
arts  are  depressed  to  the  yener.il  level  of  a  non-reslJwit  claaf?,  who 
■  never  visit  the  University  except  on  the  five  or  sis  days  in  each. 


524 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


year  on  which  they  are  examin&d  ;•  and  Uie  di\Tiiity  student, 
most  cases  only  coming  into  residence  when  he  l>egina  to  iitten 
divinity  leeturea,  13  not  on  b  Isvel  with  a  man  of  the  same  fitauilin^ 
who  lias  feaidecl  throughout  his  previous  course.     But  Waidea  tliis 
drawlmckf  which  the  authorities  are  most  anxious  to  get  rid  of,  and 
which,  as  long  as  it  continues,  will   tnjuriously  affect  the   general' 
L'liaKiL'ter  of  the  University,   there   is   another.  jTerhaps   still   mo 
seriona.    Until  within  the  last  ten  yenrs,  the  fellowships  of  the  aoli 
collei|Ce  in  the  University  of  Duhlin  were  givGU  almost  esclusively 
for  jiroficiency  in  mathematics.     Classics  were  iiideed  examined  in, 
hut  the  examination  in  them  wcis  almost  a  farce,  and  seldom  had  an 
calculable  effect  on  the  result.    A  Porson  or  a  Bentley  would  hai'e 
had  no  chance  of  a  fellowship  at  Dublin,  uuless  he  had  mastered  a 
mathemfttical  course  considerably  more  extensive  than  is  required  for 
a  senior  wranglerahip  j  while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  veriest  tyro  in 
Greek  and  Latin  was  sure  of  success,  provided  he  had  the  requisite 
amount  of  mathematics.     Of  course  this  was  never  intended  by  tliose 
who  originally  drew  up  tht;  scheme  of  the  exaniinatiqn ;  but  "  ttie 
woin^poli^iny   teuilcucy   of  mafhematics,"   Xa   use  tiic  words  of  fm^ 
eminent  mathematician,-}-  gradually  excluded  almost  everything  ex- 
cept mathematics  from  all  real  influence.     The  consequence  of  tliis 
has  been  tlmt  the  whole  teaching  of  the  University,  in  arts  and  ji 
theoloffj",  has  been  vested  in  men  whose  main  qualificatiou  for  tfiacli- 
inij',  whether  classics  or  theolog)',  was,  that  they  wet^  gocul  mathe- 
maticians!   To  which  of  t!ie  cognate  sciences,  philologj'  or  theologj',      . 
tliis  absurd  systeiu  has  been  more  disastrous,  it  is  ditticult  to  s&y^H 
"It  is  not  veiy  convenient,"  says  Judge  Longfield,  "that  the  teacheis^^ 
of  theology  in  its  chief  seat  in  Ireland  shall,  as  at  present  (in  1853), 
be  selected  chiefly  on  account  of  thetr  mathematical  proticiency."     It 
does  nut  aeem  to  have  struck  the  Judge  that  it  must  be  just  as  little 
"convenient"  that  the  teachers  of  Greek  and  Latin  in  tlie  chief  seat 
of  learning  in  Ireland  shall  be  selected  chiefly  on  account  of  tbeil, 
raathenmticol  proficiency.     The  effective  study  qf  the  learned  laii' 
giiages  could  never  be  pronmtcd  by  barren  linnours,  or  even  by  quia- 
ijuenuiiLl  scholarships,  when  tlie  substantial  rewards  of  liie  richest 
fellowships  in  the  tlu-ee  kingdoms  were  contemptuously  withlieldij 

■  Eight  cxaminaCioDB  in  &t\»,  inL-lims«  of  ihts  dc-grce  exatninalion,  lauat  Ije  paswd  b; 
nil  sCuilciiU  ^c:scct»t  fellDir-coimnOitcra)  who  do  not  btt«Eul  lectures.  Ftir  aucli  u  Ati,  Kour 
ore  sidfiiricnt. 

+  Dublin  TTnivcTBity  Comniijaion  Report:  Jiidgo  Longield'a  aTidence,  p.  377:— "J 
tsflwU  ina<hf<m(icf  alttffciher  (from  the  i;ourse  for  propo&wl  divinity  feUowiIiiio),  in  miM- 
tjutnct  0/  Ihcir  Imdi-nfy  tt  m»ni>}vl{:f  the  wholv,  ifn^mitltd  «  n part,"  TIw  Judge  spoka 
itOTn  the-  cippriencG  of  his  ocm  college. 

X  In  ISaO,  the  nveriLgfi  iiK^omi  of  a  Gi>nioT  relloiciBip  at  Dublin  was  £1,800 ;  llie  avengA 
im^omc  of  a  junioc  fellow  upK-iuxls  of  £000.  Since  that  time  ITic  sonior  fi-lliiH-s  ha\e  sacri- 
ficed probably  morB  tbut  £400  a  yc&r  t-&th  tn  founduig  studcutsliipa :  the  incoine  of  tbtl 


M 


University  Reform  in  Relation  to  Theolo^al  Study.    525 

nor  were  men  likely  to  be  induced  to  read  for  classical  degrees,  by 
knowing  that  they  would  be  examined  by  those  who  had  never  taken 
a  classical  degree  themselves*  Thus  higher  scholarahip  was  effect- 
ually discouraged :  yet  so  closely  are  philology  and  theology  con- 
nected, that  without  the  former  no  progress  can  be  made  in  the 
latter;  whilst,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  not  easy  to  see  in  what  way 
the  profoundest  knowledge  of  the  differential  calculus,  or  the  lunar 
theory,  can  prepare  men  for  lecturing  on  theology.  The  Dublin 
Divinity  School  has  accordingly  suffered  from  the  exclusive  worship 
of  what  Sir  W.  Hamilton  called  "  the  Molech  of  Cambridge  idol- 
atry."-f-  No  doubt  the  professors  and  their  assistants  have  done 
their  best  to  make  up  for  the  defects  of  their  previous  training ;  but 
sound  scholarship,  and  that  peculiar  cultivation  which  depends  upon 
it,  cannot  be  hurriedly  got  up  to  order  in  maturer  life,  when  they  have 
been  neglected  in  the  years  most  favourable  for  their  acquisition. 

To  expose  defects  is  no  pleasing  task ;  but  in  this  instance  the 
exposure  is  indispensable,  to  save  the  cause  of  theological  education 
from  being  prejudiced  by  the  failure  of  the  Dublin  Divinity  School 
in  doing  what  might  otherwise  have  been  reasonably  expected  from 
its  scheme  and  apparatus.  The  Irish  clei^,  as  a  body,  are  zealous, 
but  not  learned.  The  defects  in  their  University,  however,  which  have 
discouraged  learning,  are  now  in  process  of  being  remedied.  Classical 
attainment  now  enjoys  a  definite  though  not  an  adequate  recc^ition 
at  the  fellowship  examination  \%  and  it  may  be  hoped  that  the  new 
spirit  gradually  infused  into  the  body,  under  this  improvement,  will 
ultimately  make  the  Dublin  Theological  School  as  distinguished  in 
practice  as  it  has  been  for  the  last  thirty  years  in  theory. 

By  way  of  contrast  with  what  is  done  to  promote  theological 
science  in  England,  let  us  see  what  is  done  in  Germany,  selecting  for 
this  purpose  one  of  the  smaller  German  Universities. 

Halle  has  not  less  than  six  oi-dinary  and  five  extraordinary  pro- 
fessors of  theology,  besides  a  licentiate  in  that  faculty.  These  titles 
demand  explanation.  A  licentiate  in  any  faculty  must  have  passed 
an  extensive  and  difficult  examination  in  its  subject,  on  which  he 
receives  from  the  University  licence   to  teach  or  lecture  in  it.     As 

junior  Tellowi,  dcpendlsg  as  it  dooB  chiefly  on  tuition  feee, — all  but  four  of  them  being 
tutors, — must  bo  greatly  increased,  tho  number  of  students  on  the  hooka  being  much 
greater  nov  than  it  ■was  at  that  time. 

*  Oolj*  two  fellows  have  ever  taken  a  classical  degree. 

t  "  Discussions,"  p.  326.  YetCambridge  nexer  carried  its  "idolatry  "so  far  as  to  appoint 
teachers  and  examiners  in  ela»»ica  simply  on  account  of  their  proficiency  in  malhematict ! 

X  The  fiill  marks  assigned  to  classics,  including  history  and  chronologj',  are  900 ;  to 
mathematics,  pure  and  miscd,  and  tho  cognate  branch  of  eiperimentol  physics,  are  given 
1,600,  or  very  nearly  double;  mental  and  moral  science  hare  600;  Hebrew  and  Cfaaldcc, 
togathia,  160  marks. 


526 


The  Conkmporary  Review. 


the  lectm-GS  of  licentiates  hikve  uotliiug  Tjut  their  intriosic  me 
to  recommend  thein — attendance  on  them  beiug  quite  voluiitarj'.  uiJ 
the  licentiates  never  actinj^  ua  exsmintirs, — it  is  their  din-ct  intei'est  tu 
make  them  aa  able  Jiud  uaufiil  as  possible.  Those  liceutiates  who  have 
most  impressed  the  authorities  by  their  leajoiu;^  aud  Ability  are 
selected  to  fill  vacant  chairs,  Tims  no  one  can  rise  to  a  finifes&fjrship 
without  paasiii;'  a  double  ordeal,  He  umst  satialy  the  UiiiveTsity 
tliat  he  is  qualified  to  teach,  and  satisfy  the  authorities  tlmt  h.e  la 
succeasfid  as  a  tL^acher ;  and  when  he  is  raised  to  the  rank  of  pro- 
fessor, he  must  still  go  through  the  iuferior  grade  of  an  extraordinary 
or  aupemumeKLry  professorship,  with  infetiot  emoluments,  and  "witli 
no  share  in  the  goveniment  of  his  University,  before  he  rises  to  th« 
final  din^nity  of  an  ordinary'  or  full  profeasoi' — promotion  here  agJU^^ 
chiefly  dependiti^  on  thu  powers  he  lias  evinced.  Thus  the  -wh<]|^| 
system  i3  fi-ameil  t-o  encom-oge  effeetive  ability  to  the  very  utmos^^ 
It  nmst  not  bu  forgotten  that,  as  the  same  subjects  are  uftea  treated 
by  different  jirufesaurs  or  licentiates,  and  as  the  lectures  re^piiral 
before  the  student  can  pass  his  final  examinutiun  are  determined  by 
the  subjects,  and  not  by  ihe  peraoua  who  deliver  tEiem,  students  have 
a  choice  of  lecturers  7—  a  privil^e  which,  coupled  witli  the  circum- 
stance that  iucome  lai^ely  depends  on  fcjys,  prevents  even  tbe  mca^d 
dignified  professor  from  staguatitig  in  security.  ^H 

The  work  performed  under  tliia  stimulating  system  will  appear 
prodigious  to  those  who  are  accustomed  to  the  style  of  Knglish 
Universities. 

Nut  one  of  these  twelve  lecturers  on  theology  at  Halle  delivers  less 
than  two  distinct  oourseSj — most  of  them  deliver  tlu'ee — each  cimrse 
consisting  of  from  one  hour  to  six  hom-s  a  weuk,  and  this  durhig  an 
uimiterruptei.1  period  of  five  mouths  in  the  winter,  and  thi-ee  mimtla 
in  the  summer.  Duiiug  this  very  winter,  lectures,  ha^■e  been  delivercil 
at  Ualle  oa  iwcni^'^scn  subjects  iu  the  faculty  of  theology  aJoue.* 

•  Hbk  ia  a  liat,  tra&al&ted  firom  the  "  Index  ScLoEarum,' '  of  lie  lecturei  delivcicai  by  tin 

ordiiuu^*  profeiisor& : — 

Tli'Amk  luclurea  on — (1)  tbe  Sermgn  on  tbe  Mount ;  (2)  Uio  Eacf  (^lopicdia  Bad  HcOnd 

of  TLedogy ;  (3)  Ibe  Threo  First Gospula  ayaoihUciiIly  treated:  (eJglit  houraa  w»l.J 

Zfij^cWnn— <L)thi!  Songs  intoreporwd  in  tlie  Historic  Books  of  tlio  Biblu;  ('2)  Gvawis. 

(3)  the  ArcinBoiogy  und  Autiquitie*  of  the  Hubrewn  :  {teu  huurs  a  woek.J 
Ju/iu*  MiiHer  ua — {1}   LiiLroduc:ti(ia.  lo  DogmiEtic 'Ibealog;;- (2]  Uo^iuBtlo  Tljculogj; 

(3)  i'molical  Theology  :   (twftlva  hours  &  Week.) 
JiTMiion— (1)  UieGnoatica;  (2)  the  Epistle  tothe  Coloasiaiia;  (3)  Church  Hiistoryduwii 
tu  Orfl^-ory  VI I. ;  (4)  Introdutitto])  tu  tlio  Xew  Testauient ;  (UuiWeQ  Lours  a.  h«L) 
Smfiit:ilaff  on— (1)  Coiiluniponuieous  nistory  uf  tli(3  Now  Tcitamant ;  (i)  Liic«fCIu!>t; 

(3)  Epietlu  to  ihii  EoaLODs :   (ttui  hours  a  vu-ek.) 
Wuttkc  Ici'lurca  tin — (1]  tho  I'ialoiophiful  Theology  of  thu  Cbriatiaii  WoiM,  dtnru  U 
tlic  £ightcC[L[h  Ocuturj' ;   (2)  on  LIEirigtiiUi  EtluCat   ^acvca  hours  a  wodc-} 
The  flrc  cxtmoriUuiiiy  profeHois  uid  tlio  licentiate  do  not  l&U  Abfitf  of  the  exeitiui  d 
tli^  mtnv  digmfiud  toUeagoea. 


University  Reform  in  Relation  to  Theological  Study.   527 

Such  are  the  labours  of  German  professors.  Nor  are  they  carried 
on  in  one  branch  only.  In  jurisprudence,  in  medicine,  in  arts,  not 
less  is  done  by  the  most  celebrated  men.  Nor  do  they  ever  complain 
that  the  eight  or  ten  or  twelve  hours  a  week  they  devote  to  public 
instruction  robs  them  of  time  or  energy  for  those  private  studies 
which  have  made  their  public  instruction  famous ;  on  the  contrary, 
if  questioned,  they  would  probably  say  that  to  their  pubhc  labours 
they  owe,  in  great  measure,  the  vigour  of  their  private  researches ; 
for  there  is  no  greater  incentive  to  study  and  reflection  than  the 
appreciation  of  an  intelligent  and  sympathizing  audience.  Nor  would 
there  be  half  the  theological  or  literary  life  which  now  exists  in 
Grennany  were  the  very  same  staff  of  professors  maintained  in  the 
dignified  inertness  of  an  English  University. 

The  consequences  of  the  abeyance  of  all  regular  theological  training 
in  EnglMid  are  hut  too  obvious.  The  clergy  are,  in  general,  not  pre- 
pared for  those  discussions  which  are  inevitably  appreachii^.  As 
Ireland  is  behind  England  in  general  intelligence  and  information,  so 
ia  England  behind  the  Continent.  Hence  the  sensation  created  by 
books  like  "  Essays  and  Keviews,"  and  Dr.  Colenso's  examination  of 
the  Pentateuch ;  hence,  too,  in  some  degree,  the  commotion  caused  by 
"  Tracts  for  the  Times,"  and  the  unhappy  secessions  which  have  taken 
place,  chiefly  due  to  an  imagined  ideal  of  the  Chureh  which  thorough 
knowledge  of  ecclesiastical  history  would  have  shown  never  to  have 
existed  in  practice.  Nor  would  the  phases  of  belief,  or  rather  of  feel- 
ing, which  led  so  many  astray,  aud  which  find  their  most  complete 
picture  in  Dr.  Newman's  "  Apologia,"  have  ignored,  to  all  appearance, 
the  very  existence  of  the  Greek  orthodox  Church  since  the  schism 
between  East  and  West,  had  the  study  of  Church  history  been  prose- 
cuted with  the  impartiality  and  thoroughness  of  a  University  course, 
and  not  with  the  favomitism  which  selects  its  subjects,  in  the  absence 
of  proper  gmdance,  according  to  its  bias. 

How,  then,  it  may  be  asked,  has  it  come  to  pass  that,  whilst  for 
other  professions  a  regular  professional  education  is  required,  the 
most  important  of  all  professions  receives,  in  England,  no  proper 
training  from  those  very  bodies  which  owe  their  present  greatness 
chiefly  to  its  former  predominance,  and  in  which  theology  takes  the 
highest  rank  ?  Tlie  true  answer  to  this  question  is  probably  concealed 
in  its  very  terms.  It  is  hecause  theology  has  always  taken  the  highest 
rank  at  the  English  Universities  that  these  bodies  have  virtually 
ceased  to  teach  it. 

In  the  Enghsh  Universities  medicine,  law,  and  divinity  have  never 
been  on  an  equality  with  arts.  They  have  always  been  regarded  as 
the  inner  sanctuary,  to  which  arts  was  the  portal :  through  the  latter 
!ilone  coiild  they  he  approaclied.    The  original  reason  of  this  was  that 


5aS  Tht  Contemporary  Review. 

in  tJie  enrly  Jlicldle  Ages  tlic  Universities  did  much  the  same  ijcork 
which  is  iirjTn-  done  by  ptihlic  and  gmramnr  schools.  Such  schools 
did  not  then  exist.  This  one  fact  goes  fivr  to  account  for  the 
ertiirnious  niiuihers  which  are  said  to  have  then  cro'wded  tlie  rni- 
versities.  They  were  crowded  simply  hecauae  they  were  the  only 
places  where  any  hij:;her  instruction  could  he  got.  Heme  degrees  in 
arts  were  then  usually  taken  at  a  very  early  age.  The  uudergraduates 
were  in  fact  schoolboys.  Under  such  circumstances,  it  -vras  oo 
artificial  restriction  which  prevented  students  from  euleriuj^  on  the 
study  of  theologj',  or  laiv,  or  mechcine,  liefore  they  had  fiiiished.  their 
course  in  arts :  tiof  could  it  be  any  hardship  to  b  boy,  who  hd 
graduated  ILA.  at  an  a^e  when  in  these  days  he  would  hardly  tf 
thinking  of  leaving  school,  if  he  were  required  to  spend  in  studying 
theology,  the  years  that  must  elapse  hefore  he  should  have  attaineii 
the  canonical  a^e  for  ordination.  The  rise  of  the  great  public  schools, 
and  the  foundation  of  the  innumerable  gi-amraar  schools  Tvhieh  dot 
the  land,  altered  the  circumstances  of  the  students  without  altering 
the  theory  of  the  University.  Boys  no  longer  went  up  tf>  poUp^ 
before  they  were  in  their  teens ;  the  average  age  of  graduation  in 
arta  became  much  more  advanced ;  yet  graduation  in  arts  was  still 
required  by  the  English  Uaiversities  before  men  were  permitted  to 
enter  the  eauctum  of  the  three  higher  faculties.  The  result  might 
have  Iteen  foreseen.  Except  in  the  case  of  those  provided  for  by 
fellowships  (many  of  which  were  foun<led  with  this  very  view),  life 
Wiia  t'Oo  short  for  tbe  study  of  tlieology  when  that  study  enuld  only 
be  commenced  seven  years  after  matricidation,  and  when  matricula- 
tion took  placii  at  seventeen  or  eighteen,  instead  of  at  ten  or  twelvp, 
as  lieretolbre.  The  same  obtained  of  the  other  facidties  in  an  inferior 
de^^ree;*  and  thus  the  very  loftiness  of  their  jmsition  emptied  tlii' 
halls  of  their  professors,  and  ended  in  their  virtual  extinction.  MiJi- 
cine  has  been  taught  elsewhere :  law,  until  lately,  lilvS  theology,  lias 
not  been  taught  at  alL 

n. 

These  considerations  possess  more  than  mere  atitiqunrkn  interest. 
The  ascertaiuniGut  of  the  original  cause  of  pres-eut  defects  yoes  ftir  tti 
suggest  their  remedy.  It  may  not  indeed  l>e  possible  to  give  tliei>liigy 
in  our  Universities  all  the  importance  it  possesses  in  those  abroad, 
where  the  student  at  once  matriculates  in  it  on  his  entrance,  and 
where  he  is  therefore  at  liberty  to  devote  three  or  four  yeai-s  to  itt 
cxelnaive  study.      Such  a  plan  would  require  schools  of  the  same 

•  In  mi'diiiin.'  and  law  tliu  fuU  Ufflc  of  jeven  years  JroiumalriciiliitioiiivafcwTiiTerf;  imii 
lience  the  di-^es  of  Bnt'telor  of  Meditma  ajid  Law-  can  ^its  Xa\*;v.  aq  tuticli  swiwr  ll»ll 
that  of  Bachelor  of  Divinity.     But  the  priaciple  ■wtm,  nad  i»,  in  all  Uie  fame. 


University  Reform  in  Relation  to  Theological  Study.   5  29 

class,  and  possessing  the  same  relations  with  the  University,  aa  the 
German  Cryvinasia,  which  give  a  imifonu  and  very  high  average 
training  to  young  men,  and  whose  final  examination  must  be  passed 
by  all  natives  of  the  country  before  tliey  can  go  up  to  the  Universitj', 
But  though  theology  can  never  be  raised  to  the  rank  of  an  independ- 
ent faculty  at  the  English  Universities,  it  might  at  least  be  more 
largely  introduced  into  the  studies  of  the  faculty  of  arts,  by  having  a 
separate  final  school  or  tripos  dedicated  to  it  This  plan  has  the  very 
great  recommendations  of  simphcity  and  facility.  It  might  be  carried 
out  at  once :  all  that  is  wanted  is  the  creation  of  an  additional  final 
school  of  theology  at  Oxford,  such  as  the  Eoyal  Commissioners  re- 
commended fifteen  years  ago  ("  Eeport,"  pp.  72-3) ;  and  at  Cam- 
bridge the  expansion  of  the  present  "voluntary  theological"  into  a 
regular  theological  tripos,  ranking  with  the  other  tripos  examinations 
in  extent,  in  reputation,  and  in  reward ;  provision  being  always  made 
that  for  those  who  cannot  or  will  not  rise  to  honours,  a  pass  examina- 
tion, not  inferior  to  the  present,  shall  be  left.  Let  all  candidates  for 
Holy  Orders  be  required  to  pass  in  tliis  new  final  school  or  tripos ;  let 
the  leading  colleges  reserve  a  certain  number  of  their  fellowships  for 
men  who  have  taken  high  distinctions  in  it,  and  it  is  not  unreasonable 
to  expect  that  theological  science  will  soon  rise  from  its  present  depres- 
sion, and  that  the  numbers  attracted  by  a  study  now  for  the  first  time 
really  encouraged  and  vigorously  prosecuted,  will  once  more  restore  the 
Church  to  tbe  position  from  which  it  has  of  late  been  gradually 
sinking,  and  enable  her  to  grapple  more  successfully  with  the  pro- 
blems suggested  by  modem  discovery  and  thought. 

This  plan,  however,  involves  a  necessary  supplement. 

Examinations  caimot  supply  tbe  place  of  instruction.  They  will 
only  make  its  want  more  acutely  felt.  Systematic  and  thorough 
instruction  must  be  given  by  the  Universities  if  the  results  of  instruc- 
tion are  to  be  tested  by  them.  "What  is  now  urged  is  quite  inde- 
pendent of  any  question  aa  to  the  relative  merits  of  the  professorial 
and  tutorial  systems  of  communicating  instruction ;  though  it  may  be 
said,  in  answer  to  those  who  decry  the  professorial  system,  and  of 
whom  the  Kev.  Mark  Pattison,  in  his  evidence  given  to  the  Oxford 
University  Commissioners,  may  be  regarded  as  the  coryphseus,  that 
the  objections  against  it  he  so  ably  urges  seem  to  have  gradually 
Iropped  out  of  the  sphere  of  University  conviction  since  his  time, 
inasmuch  as  everywhere  there  is  a  great  increase  of  professorial 
caching.  It  is  a  remarkable  fact,  also,  that  the  force  of  these  objec- 
ions  seems  to  be  least  felt  by  that  profession  which  is  of  all  others 
iCast  shackled  by  antiquarian  prejudice.  The  schools  of  medicine, 
rhile  they  refuse  to  license  a  student  on  a  mere  certificate  of  attend- 
mce  at  lectures,  at  the  same  lime  refuse  to  examine  him  at  all  unless 


S30 


The  Contemporary  Revieiv. 


he  has  attended  lectures.  Yet  the  very  same  ulijectiona  might  Ije 
urged  witli  equfil  truth  against  lectures  in  medjciue  and  in  theologj*. 
Buuks  «re  to  be  had  ia  medicine  a,s^  well  as  in  theology :  the  att-fiitiim 
of  Iiesirers  is  just  as  likely  tu  wander  in  medicine  as  in  theolojg" :  it  is 
didicult  to  see  why  lectures  on  medieine  must  W  fniitt'nl  and  pro- 
fnimd,  lectures  on  tlieolog)'"  shallow  aud  useless.  The  practice  of  the 
iliffei'ent  mudical  schools  is  tlie  l^e9t  answer,  because  it  is  an  answer 
hased  on  ]>mctical  experience,  to  ailments  agniost  professorial  teach- 
ing, M'hicli  would  hardly  indeed  he  ui^^d  by  any  one  personally 
acquainted  with  it*  stiniulatin;j;  aud  iinpiesalve  yflect,  as  it  is  ibiinil 
abroad, 

Probttlily  the  best  system  is  that  in  which  profesaorial  and  tutorial 
inatnictiou  are  didy  minn^ted.  "  A  mere  tutorial  instruction  must  be 
scanty  and  mechanical,"  as  Sir  W.  Hamilton  remarks,*  because  the 
tutors  are  tuo  little  removed  from  tlie  gmdc  and  jioaition  of  those 
whom  they  teach,  and  because  they  do  not  devote  all  their  energies 
to  the  one  aubject.  A  purely  profeasorial  system,  unless  kept  in 
check  by  searehinj;;  examinationa,  might  be  in  danger  of  be^tting 
vagneneas  and  want  of  precision.  Combined,  the  two  supply  ench 
nther's  defects, — the  prol'esaorial  giving  those  general  aud  more  origi- 
nal views,  the  residt  of  deeper  thought  and  erudition,  which  nnnnot 
lie  expected  from  the  comparative  youtli  and  the  niiscelhineous  (iccu- 
Iiations  of  collegiate  tutors ;  the  tutorial  saviTig  the  jiupil  from  satisfy- 
ing huuself  witli  mere  largeness  and  breadth  of  views,  without  thftt 
accuracy  of  detail  on  which  all  lai-ge  results  must  he  based.  And  for 
such  a  combined  syatem  the  adoption  of  the  plan  above  pivip<isftl 
wotdd  pave  the  way,  inasmuch  ag  it  would  introchtee  into  the  leading 
colleges  a  consideralile  theological  element,  which  would  be  a\"ailiible 
for  tntorahipSp  and  nut  of  which  nltimntely  the  professorships  tif 
di^'uiily  woidd  he  filletl  up,  thus  approximating  to  the  sj'st^ni  whidi 
is  found  to  work  .so  well  abroa<l. 

In  any  case  the  pre^^ent  system  is  indefensible.  If  prnffssorisl 
lectures  he  useless,  why  waste  the  valuable  time  of  students  and  pi»' 
fessora  in  deliveiing  or  attending  even  twelve  ?  If  they  lie  usefiil, 
why  reduce  them  to  such  i  inetched  niiniminn  ?  Of  course,  to  niak* 
their  lectures  succeed  in.  doing  in  England  iilint  they  elTect  in  CiermMT, 
it  woidd  be  necessary  that  the  Jectiu'crs  should  he  alive  to  the  import- 
ance of  their  work,  and  capable,  in  some  degree,  of  cinmimnlinfl 
attention.  But  this  gift  depends  far  less  on  mem  ability  thau  on  the 
interest  they  themselves  take  iu  what  they  do.  A  lecturer  who  is 
thoTonghly  in  earnest  will  soon  inske  his  hearers  thoroughly  3" 
earnest.  He  must,  indeed,  condescend  t<i  be  interesting;  he  must 
not  shrink  even  from  a  certain  amount  of  tUtl'useness  aud  repetition; 
•  "  DiBCTWBicms,"  p.  321,  Fiirt  Edition.. 


University  Reform  in  Relation  /*  Theological  Study.   531 

he  must  stoop  to  a  less  perfect  style  than  would  be  desirable  in  a 
book,  which  can  be  read  and  re^  again.  For  what  he  has  to  do 
must  be  done  on  the  spot ;  if  it  be  not,  he  has  lost  the  irrevocable 
opportunity.  But  when  he  once  fairly  realizes  his  proper  function, 
and  the  right  means  of  approximately  discharging  it,  when  he  speaks 
out  of  the  fulness  of  his  heart  as  well  aa  of  his  intellect,  on  that  which 
he  feels  as  well  as  knows,  a  lecturer  can  command  and  sway  his 
audience  as  no  book  can  ever  command  and  sway  its  reader.  It  is 
not  merely  dry  information  that  men  require.  They  want  to  be 
roused  and  animated,  and  made  to  feel  the  importance  of  what  they 
are  studying;  they  require  to  be  furnished  with  those  general  and 
guiding  views  which  no  English  books  on  theology  in  modem  times 
even  pretend  to  give.* 

Whether  the  ancient  system  of  the  English  Universities,  which,  as 
we  have  seen,  is  still  the  system  of  German  Universities,  might  not  be 
profitably  restored ;  whether  the  libertas  docendi,  which  is  still  nomi- 
nally conferred  by  the  degree  of  D.D.,  might  not  be  revived,  to  the 
great  advant^e  of  theological  interest  as  well  as  of  theological  science, 
since  both  interest  and  science  are  best  promoted  by  unfettered  free- 
dom of  discussion, — tliis  is  a  question  too  large  for  any  adequate 
examination  within  our  limits.  Yet  it  may  be  obsen-ed  that  at  Oxford 
something  very  like  the  ancient  practice  seems  to  be  gradually  creeping 
in.  When  several  colleges  lend  their  halls,  as  it  is  said  they  now 
do,  to  lectures  delivered,  not  by  salaried  professors  but  by  volunteers, 
who  have  nothing  but  zeal  and  learning  and  interest  in  the  subject 
to  recommend  them ;  such  voluntary  lectures,  crowded  by  attentive 
hearers,  are  a  strong  proof  that  the  professorial  system,  in  its  original 
breadth,  is  as  well  adapted  to  the  nineteenth  as  it  was  to  the  thir- 
teenth century ;  and  they  suggest  the  thought  that  its  paralysis  in 
modem  times  is  chiefly  due  to  its  being  narrowed  within  the  neces- 
sarily small  bounds  of  high  salaries,  and  deprived  of  the  healthy 
stimulus  of  competition.  So  long  as  the  degrees  which  originally 
conferred  the  power  of  teaching  in  the  Universities  are  given,  as 
a  matter  of  course,  to  persons  of  certain  standing  and  able  to  pay 
certain  fees,  it  will  be  impossible  to  restore  the  doctors  to  their  nomi- 
nal position ;  but  if  it  be  deemed  unadvisahle  to  make  these  degrees 

*  Perbaps  the  vriter  Till  be  thought  unduly  prejudiced  In.  favoar  of  the  professorial 
(ystem,  and  too  aaoguine  aa  to  its  results.  But  the  views  he  entertains  are  not  merely 
theoretic :  they  are  based  on  an  intimate  knowledge  of  what  that  system  is  abroad ;  nor 
can  he  omit  this  opportunity  of  bearing  grateful  testimony  to  the  aid  and  eneourage- 
ment  he  received  from  it,  and  from  the  noble  men  who  worked  it.  No  one,  indeed,  can 
judge  of  the  professorial  system  who  has  not  felt  its  operation  at  one  of  those  continental 
Universities,  where  the  professors  seem  to  throw  their  whole  heart  and  soul  into  their 
work,  and  give  the  benefit  of  their  counsel  and  advice  to  every  one  whom  they  see  anxious 
to  profit  by  his  opportunilies. 


532 


Tk4  Cimkmpomry  Rcvku*. 


ouce  more  tlie  puiely  honorary  reward  of  merit,  (I3  they  still  are  in 
the  German  Universititis,  wLere  no  one  can  buy  the  title  of  Doctor  of 
Hiviuity,  an<^l  wliiire  thiit.  title  is,  therefore,  still  ^-altitid,  the  University 
]j(i|^ht  iutroJiice  tiie  system  of  licensing  to  teach  after  a  sufficituit  pro- 
bfttion  of  the  merits  of  the  candidate.  Surely  it  is  better  that  suoli 
licence  shciutd  be  gi'niited  by  the  solemn  act  of  the  whole  body  than 
that  it  should  bo  heatoweJ  by  iudiviJuiil  colleges  iii  an  irregul^ir, 
imdcfiiieii,  and  UTeapousihle  manner. 

It  may  bo  objected  that  the  dinnity  eonrse  pi'oiuised  could  never 
lie  compressed  flitliin  the  three  yeai's  of  imder-^Tsiduato  life.  Nor 
could  it  be.  But  when  we  consider  how  much  time  is  devoted  tu 
pTepamtinn  fur  other  professioua,  one  year's  undiatract-ed  study  uf 
tlieoloj^fy  19  surely  not  too  much  to  demand  fur  the  most  important  uf 
all  professions.  And  if  the  Iriah  clergy,  who,  as  a  body,  are  much 
less  weiilthy  than  tlieir  Enj^lish  brethren,  can  afford  two  yeara  at 
Dublin  lor  theology,  one  of  which  years  cannot  possibly  be  taken  till 
the  twelve  teims  of  the  aita  courae  are,  completed,  an  additional  year 
may  surely  be  accepted  at  Oxford  and  Cambridge,  especially  as  many 
of  their  ^Tii-duatea  actually  sacrifice  such  a  year  to  some  diocesjui 
theological  college.  Ceilain  idterationa,  however,  uow  to  be  suggested. 
would  yo  far  to  remove  every  valid  objection  at  the  English  Univer- 
sities agaiust  thfit  four  years'  course  in  arts  aud  theology  which  for  tlie 
last  tldrty  years  has  been  the  minimum  at  the  Uuiveraity  of  Dublitt. 

It  has  beeu  noticed  by  several  of  those  examined  by  the  Uxiu'ril 
Conunissioners,  that  the  scale  of  necessary  e.*:penses  dili'ei-s  at  ever^' 
dilfcTcut  coUege,  no  two  colleges   agreeiug^  in   their  chai^ges.     Yet 
each  coUeye  has  the  same  market,  the  same  conditions  of  life  to  set 
upon.     Why  are  not  these  unei:[ual,  and  therefoi-e  ine^xaitable,  chai-tieii 
reduced  to  one  uniform  conscientious  standard  ?    There  ia  uo  ^mjs- 
tion  but  that  they  M'ould  he  thus  gi'eatly  diminished.     Again,  as 
Mr.  Wilkinson  tvniarhGd  (OAfoi-d  Report:  Evidence,  p,  G8},  "  Why  ia 
there  any  cliarge  for  rooms  ia  those  colleges  where  no  new  buili'li«gi 
ha,ve  been  i-jiiaed  for  the  special  benefit  of  undergraduate  coiumoncTB! 
The  pnsent  charge  is  mi  odaiuatc  percentage  itpoii  the  eost  of  jietc  binld- 
ihfjs.     In  fact,  the  colh-ges  have  turned  ont,  in  n  manntr  neve-r  conkm- 
pfated   by  founders,  cxeeUnii  money  inveatments'*      Were    these  two 
sources  of  not  very  reputable  gain,  whether  to  the  cullega  servants  tir 
to  the  college  authoritiea,  swept  away,  there  does  not  seem  to  lie  imy 
reason  why  tlie  ncccssar}/  expenses  of  college  life  shotdd  not  be  re- 
duced to  sometliui-^  less  than  £100  a  year.     Sixty  iKiuuda  a  year  is 
the  sum  stated  by  i'rofcssor  Juwett  to  be,  in  his  estimation,  snfflciii'iiL 
at  a  ball,  u  here  everything  should  be  regulated  with  a  due  reganl  t" 
economy,  not  parsimony.*    It  is  q^uite  plahi  that  the  colleges  might,  it" 
'  Evidence,  p.  34,    Sec  oIkj  erideDce  of  Bev.  D.  MelriUe,  p,  it. 


University  Reform  in  Relation  to  Tfieological  Study.    533 

they  chose,  with  their  vast  and  continually  increasing  revenues,  make 
much  more  extended  and  much  cheaper  provision  for  undei^raduates 
than  they  now  do.  And  to  this  they  are  bound  in  honour,  for  they 
are  eleemosynary  foundations ;  they  exist  not  to  pander  to  the  exclu- 
aiveness  of  the  rich,  but  to  supply  the  means  of  highest  education  to 
those  who  would  otherwise  be  unable  to  acquire  it.  Let,  then,  their 
chaises  be  uniformly  and  conscientiously  regulated  with  a  view  to  the 
greatest  economy  consistent  with  propriety  and  decency.  And  lastly, 
let  one  or  more  exclusively  theological  halls  be  founded,  dependent  on 
the  wealthier  colleges,  for  the  reception  of  divinity  students  during 
the  last  year  of  their  studies.  Means  for  doing  this  ought  not  to  be 
wanting,  at  least  at  Oxford,  whose  revenues  Mr.  Neate  lately  declared 
would  be  increased  in  a  few  years  by  not  less  than  an  additional  hun- 
dred thoxisand  pounds  a  year.  "Were  these  reconamendations  adopted ; 
were  room-rent  abolished  where  it  is  not  required  to  form  a  building 
fund,  college  battels  reduced  to  a  uniform  and  proper  standard,  and 
theological  halls  founded  where  economy  should  be  duly  consulted, 
the  whole  expense  of  the  four  years'  course  in  arts  and  theology 
might  be  brought  considerably  imder  the  present  average  cost  of 
three ;  and  thus  a  year  might  be  gained  for  theology  without  any 
fidditional  burden  on  the  student. 

But  the  foimdation  of  theological  halls  at  the  Universities  is  not 
merely  a  part  of  a  system  of  economy.  Such  places  would  afford 
young  men  on  the  point  of  taking  Orders  that  retirement  from  the 
indiscriminate  and  secularizing  society  of  the  colleges  which  is  now 
often  Bought  in  places  like  Ouddesdon  aud  Wells  and  Lichfield. 
Without  unduly  depreciating  such  places,  it  is  evident  that  they 
cannot  possess  that  lai^er  spirit  which  distinguishes  the  thought 
and  teaching  of  a  great  University,  where  varieties  of  minds  meet, 
and  which  are  saved  by  their  very  magnitude  from  degenerating  into 
exclusive  representations  of  a  single  party.  Ko  doubt  they  have 
been  very  useful  in  the  lack  of  theological  instruction  elsewhere : 
but  their  tendency  must  always  be  to  cramp  and  contract,  Each 
has  its  ruling  mind,  of  which  the  mind  of  every  student  tends  to 
become  a  copy:  each  has  its  peculiar  tone,  insensibly  adopted  by 
its  inmates :  they  are  places  to  beget  regularity  and  uniformity  rather 
than  independence  and  manliness  of  thought ;  and  it  would  be  a  very 
serious  misfortxme  to  the  English  Church  if  the  multiplication  of 
diocesan  seminaries,  expressive  of  diocesan  peculiarities  and  style, 
should  make  the  Universities  easy  under  their  own  shortcomings, 
and  tempt  them  to  prolong  their  neglect  of  obvious  duty. 

C.  P.  Eeichel. 


VOL.  I.  3  N 


^^^=^ 


^^MMMM^Sn 


tSSb 


^^^M 


DR.    PUSEY'S    EIRENICON* 


Jn  F.irenieen:  in  a  Ltttrr  io  the  Author  (^  the  "ChrUtiait  Tar." 
B;  B.  B.  Pnsir,  D.D..  Bcsiiu  ProtcMor  of  Hebrew,  and  Caaia 
of  Chriit  Church,  Oxford.     London :  J.  &  J.  H.  PkrkcT.    1866. 

THERE  are  two  subjects  suggested  by  the  discussion  of  the  vork 
which  we  have  to  consider.  One  is  the  general  subject 
of  the  unity,  union,  or  re-union  of  Christendom,  which  opeus  a 
vast  field  of  historical,  philosophical,  and  religious  tliouglit.  The 
other  is  the  particular  mode  of  approaching  this  subject  in  the 
"  Eirenicon."  Tlie  olyect  of  these  pages  will  be  to  state  the  reasoDS 
why,  as  it  seems  to  me,  the  Cliurch  of  England  has  cause  to  rejoice, 
on  the  whole,  in  the  publication  and  in  tlie  general  acceptance  of  this 
remarkable  book. 

Before,  liowever,  stating  these  reasons,  I  must  clear  the  groiincl 
by  a  few  remarks  on  the  direct  purpose,  so  far  as  I  understand  it,  at 
which  the  learned  author  aims.  I  agree  with  what  he  himself  calls 
"  the  candid  and  philosophic "  article  in  the  Times  of  Decemlier  2, 
1865,  that  the  organic  union  here  proposed  between  the  Churches  of 
England  and  of  Rome  is  too  remote  from  any  practical  considerations 
to  be  worth  discussing  at  length.  If,  indeed,  by  such  a  union  were 
meant  merely  the  right  of  individuals  to  partake  of  the  Holy  Com- 
munion in  the  respective  Churches,  there  is,  on  our  part,  no  impedi- 
ment to  the  communion  of  a  Roman  Catholic  in  an  English  church, 

*  The  ■ubstimce  of  a  paper  read  by  the  Dean  of  Westminster  at  a  meeting  of  London 
Clergy. 


Dr.  Puscy^s  Eirenicon. 


535 


if  so  be  desired  it,  at  any  momeat ;  and  even  in  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church,  the  difficidties  in  the  way  of  receiving  a  Protestaut  to  that 
Bacrament,  if  he  bo  desired  it,  woidd,  I  presume,  arise  rather  from  the 
jrelimjuary  accompaniments  than  from  the  crdLnance  itself,  ]Jut 
f,  as  we  must  justly  suppose,  by  the  union  proposed  is  meant  an 
authoritative  acknowledgment,  on  the  part  of  the  two  Ohurcheis.  of 
the  same  external  laws  and  creed  (as  in  the  Teconciliation  between 
lihe  two  Chujchea  in  the  reign*  of  Pliilip  and  Mary),  it  ig  obvious 
that,  on  the  present  occasion,  the  contracting  parties  are  not  brought 
on  the  scene,  even  in  the  most  distant  manner.  Tliere  is  not  alleged 
the  faintest  probability  of  such  proposals  emanating  either  on  the 
one  side  from  the  Court  of  Eome,  nor  on  the  other  side  from  the 
Crown  and  Parliament  of  England. 

I  also  agi^e  with  the  able  article  in  Macmillan's  Magazine  for 
Febninr}-,  and  ■with  a  no  leas  able  speech  in  the  same  direction  by 
the  I>nke  of  Ar^dl  at  Glasgow,  that  even  if  such  an  oripiiiic  nnion 
were  practicable,  it  would  not  be  desirable,  if  urged  and  accepted  on 
the  gronnda  on  which  it  is  put  forward  in  the  "Kirenicou."  A 
nnion  between  two  or  even  three  powerful  C'hnrcheft  tan  hardly  be 
Baid  to  be  a  union  or  re-union  of  Christendom,  when  it  deliberately 
leaves  out  of  consideration  large  masses  of  Christiaus,  wliich,  if  less- 
powerful  than  tlie  two  uthers,  are  certainly  integral  parts  nf  She  whole,. 
Old  have  rendered  flerviees  to  Christianity  not  inferior,  in  their  way,, 
to  any  rendered  by  the  Sec  nf  Kome  or  of  Canterbury.  Still  morc- 
qnefitiouable  would  such  an  exelusivu  union  beciiiue,  if  it  were- 
intended  an  "a  combination  of  forces"  agaiust  tliose  who  were  ex— 
eluded.  Yet  more  questionable  again  would  this  be  for  us  in  England, 
nasmuch  as  whilst  those  who  are  to  he  included  are  conunuuities- 
br  the  moat  part  more  or  Iee3  remote,  those  who  would  be  excludud 
Dr  attacked  would  be  communities  dose  at  hand — the  great  Non- 
ennfnrmist  bodies  in  England,  the  rri-sliyti'riiin  Churches  in  Scot- 
and, — as  it  has  lieen  truly  said,  bone  ol'  our  bone,  and  flesh  of  our 
lesh.  More  tjuestionahle  still  would  such  a  scheme  become,  if,  as  may 
>e  inferrud  from  the  "Eirenicon,"  it  were  not  simply  a  union  Ijetween 
the  great  Churches  of  Il<jme,  and  Engla.iid,  and  Constantinople,  in 
their  entirety,  but  a  union  between  kindred  parties  or  systems  of 
>oIicy  and  belief  witliin  those  Churches  for  the  sake  nf  rejireaeing 
sertain  other  parties  or  systems  of  policy  and  belief  no  lass  contained 
within  each  of  those  Churches  ; — if  it  were  intended  as  a  cjombination 
to  oppose  tlmse  who  in  the  Church  of  liome  hold  the  opinions  recom- 
mended by  Dupin  and  Simon  in  former  times,  and  by  Bollinger  and 
Sratry  now,  or  who  in  the  Eastern  Churches  hold  the  opinions  of  St. 

■  Th»  vhotc  scene  ot  that  reconcilistion,  with  ttii  tDnKcqncnr'Mv  is  aAmnhly  tuld  by 
fr.  Froude,  in  the  sixCb  volume  of  hla  Hiatoiy  a!  Eng'land,  cL.  xxxii.,  xxxiiL 


536 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


Grej^ory  of  Nyssa  and  St  Cluysostom — not  to  speak  of  some  of  llie 
bi'ightest  omamenta  of  tlie  modern  Chiutih  of  Kusaia, — or  wlio  in  the 
Church  iif  Enj;;limd  hukl  thy  oiijnions  of  Arclibishop  Tillotson,  Eisliop 
Jeremy  Taylor,  auil  other  iliBtiiiguisheil  Divines,  deail  or  living,  wLciiu 
I  need  not  moTB  particularly  nmue.  All  these,  it  may  be  inferred 
fitjui  [lassnges  in  the  "Eircuicuu,"  €umimreU  with  the  well-kni>iim  nnil 
atrongly  expressed  Aiews  of  its  author  in  other  works,  he  nnd  thos': 
who  tliiiik  with  him  would  desire  to  exclude,  a«  a  preliminary  or  aa  n 
consequeace  of  ftny  union  at  all.  However  good,  as  far  as  it  guts, 
may  h^  &  combitifttioii  suth  as  the  "  Kiremfon"  imiposes,  for  a  ]'ai-ti- 
cular  purpose,  it  cannot,  without  considerable  reserve,  be  called  ii 
scheme  for  a  re-imioa  of  Christendom,  when  it  excludes  elements 
BO  vast,  30  beneficent,  so  pregnant  with  iiumediate  advantages  to  oiir 
own  time,  and  with  remote  advantages  for  the  whole  future  uf 
C'tiristittuity.  Nor,  if  it  lie  thus  proposed  with  a  strategetictd  nr 
polemical  intention, — "a  sword,"  ria  Llr.  Newnnan  exj'J^'SSCS  il, 
"  wruu-tlmd  in  myrtle,"  "  an  olive  branch  hurled  out  of  a  catapult," 
— i'.an  it,  without  coiisidcrable  reseiTe,  be  called  an  "  Eirenicou," 
or  I*«ace-olleriug-. 

In  the  Ibi-egomg  remarks  I  ha\'e  abatained  from  entering  on  the 
question,  wliether  the  organic  union  even  of  the  whole  of  Christen- 
dom, under  the  same  external  laws,  would  of  itself  produce  the  inward 
unity  for  the  sake  of  wliich  alone  any  external  union  can  be  desiretl 
There  waa,  in  fact,  no  such  spiritual  unity  under  tlie  joint  ruli;  ui 
Borne  and  Byzantium,  amidst  the  tii^htfui  controversies  of  the  Mli 
century ;  and  the  unity  of  Europe,  such  as  it  existed  in  the  Middle 
Agea,  belonj^d  to  an  external  fmmewurk,  then  believed  to  Iw  ai 
esgeutial  to  the  union  of  Christendom  as  the  Papacy  or  the  Episco- 
pate, but  which  has  since  entirely  passtsd  away.  The  Holy  Itoraap 
Empire  was  the  united  Christendom  of  tlie  "West.  No  existing 
external  iustitution  can  now  supply  its  phice  with  the  aame  efficacy, 

1  also  abstain  from  stating  any  grounds  of  objection  wlucli  may  be 
justly  entertained  tuwaids  a  closer  imion  with  the  particular  Cluirch 
towards  wlucli  the  "Eirenicuu"  draws  ua.  I  would  acknowledge  the 
attractions  which  the  Churclj  of  Home  always  poaaesses  for  a  large 
eection  of  mankind,  to  whom  the  mere  assumption  of  authority  has  a 
charm,  Ruch  as  is  ijuplied  in  Cossuet's  celebrated  ni)])wd  to  Leibnitz, 
— "  FermelU-z-vwi  de  vmts  piier  d'exaviincr  sirieitsemciU  devant  IHeu  si 
vauz  avez  queiipte  hon  vwycn  (Tcmjiefih^r  fEylisc  dr  dercnir  ^tantfllemcai 
vark'hfcfn  svjyposant  qudlt  }}»:ul  crrrr  ci  chmgcr  scs  deircfs  sur  la  j'vi!' 
1  acknoMledge  the  force  of  this  appeal.  I  would  only  remark — first, 
that  in  order  to  a  calm  consideration  of  the  subject,  we  mustremcni'.ier 
the  fact  brought  out  by  the  very  controversy  which  the  "  Eirenicoo" 
has  awakened, — that,  on  the  questions  now  most  iliscussed  m  the  world 


Dr.  Puscys  Eirenicon. 


537 


find  the  Church,  Uie  Clmrcli  uf  Home  boa  eitber  not  spwfcfa  at  all.  or 
lias  spoken  in  terms  which,  witbia  ber  jmle,  are  opeuly  quefitioiied  Or 
contradJctetl.  On  the  ([uestions  of  the  iuspinitinii  aud  inteiiiretatian 
of  Scripture — of  the  duration  yf  i'utiue  i>iiiusbmeijt* — of  the  relation 
science  to  the  Bible — of  tlie  ejects  of  the  progi-esa  of  ctvilizatiou 
(—of  the  salvation  of  I'roteatatits  and  of  heathens, — tixe  antliQi'itfttive 
jflecrees  of  the  Eoman  Church  arc  silent,  and  the  strong  exjjressicma 
pi^ed  by  the  existiny  I'ope  on  these  subjecta  aro  either  sot  aside  or 
lexplained  away  by  persons  who  are  still  distinguished  members  or 
jninistera  of  the  Cliiirch  over  whicli  he  prtaidos.  And  secoiiiUy,  we 
jnust  liear  m  mind  that  there  is  a  large  section  chf  Christendom  ■which 
IbbU  a  positive  repulsion  troni  the  cltiima  tr>  hu  infEiUible  guidance,  put 
fcrwanl  with  proofs  so  inadequate,  and  in  which  tlie  auswtir  of  Leib- 
aiitz  will  awaken  a  far  deeper  glcw  of  devotion  and  entbusinsm  than 
ftte  appeal  of  Buasiiet-, — "11  tmm  plait,  Manscvjunriu;  iVitn  tit:,  aitk 
tSfflisf  loffjmirs  monvrnitt',  rf  e'lcntelL'wciU  r/iri'iblc."  In  this  belief, 
[fehat  the  high  destinies  of  the  Church  at  large  depend  on  ita  can- 
sUuitly  keepinrr  pace  with  the  movin^r  order  of  Ibvinc  Prrmdence 
^d  with  the  iacreaabig  light  of  ages,  I  feel  assured  that  many 
fiincere  aud  enlightened  membei-a  both  of  the  Greek  and  Roman 
Churches  would  theinselvas  gladly  join  ;  and  that  they  wuuld  regret 
Bny  step  which  should  fix  the  existing  system  of  their  own  day  as 
an  eternal  and  uuchangeabla  oi-dinauce.  And  unfjuesticmably  this 
is  the  conviction  of  a  powciful  minurity  in  our  own  Church. 
'  It  is  not,  tiiereibre,  on  the  ground  of  the  probable  succeaa  or  intrinsic 
excellence  of  the  parbiculai'  scheme  proposed  that  I  have  ventured  to 
commend  this  work  to  your  i'avnunible  consideration. 

But  it  is  t!ie  blessing  uf  any  attempt  at  peace  that  the  indirect 
■advantages  are  often  greater  than  the  direct  advantages,  Tlmt  same 
••  candid  and  phlloaiiiihic  "  article  which  I  ([uotcd  before,  well  pointed 
out  that  any  friendly  move  carriea  with  it  a  certain  atmosphere  of 
friendbuess  and  chitrity.  Leibnitz  was  raiaed  above  himself  by  his 
coiTesjhondence  witEi  Bossuet ;  and  when  Ids  attempts  to  unite  the 
'Protestants  and  Catholics  fuiled,  he  entered  witJi  scarcely  less  ardour 
-into  the  attempt  to  unite  Protestants  with  Protestants.  "It  is  not,"  as 
PhiUp  Henry  well  said,  "the  adical  di^ercitr-ts  it/ CUiHMian  Trieii  thai 
do  f/ie  mi/iciii-vf,  hid  the.  jmsinanaffcmnit  of  those  differences"  And  by 
&  belter  uianagemejit  of  tliose  differences,  by  a  better  undei'staudiny 
between  all  the  different  branches  of  Clu'isteudom,  with-mt  any 
esternjd  ainttlgaiuation  or  formal  reconciliation,  it  is  to  be  hoped  that 
;a  unity  will  spring  up — it  rnay  Ije,  to  be  realized  only  in  eonie  far 
'distant  age,  but  to  be  begun  in  our  o^^^l — mora  like  t«  that  unity  of 

'       •   Se«  this  Wfll  liniughl  our  in   tho  C/iri-t,'aH  neincutlii-ttr.rcf,  Doccmbor,    l^til,   W- 


538  The  Contemporary  Review. 

which  the  Bible  speaks,  than  any  which  the  Church  has  witnessed 
since  the  short  period  when  the  small  community  in  Jerusalem  was 
"  of  one  heart  and  of  one  soul." 

It  is  not  maintained  that  differences,  moral  and  intellectual,  will 
cease,  or  be  unimportant ;  hut  it  will  be  morie  and  more  clearly  per- 
ceived that  they  do  not  coincide  with  the  external  political  and  eccle- 
siastical divisions  which  intersect  the  Christian  world.  Intellectual 
as  well  as  moral  unity  will  still  be  sought  after  and  valued.  But,  like 
moral  unity,  it  will  be  deeper  than  the  mere  outward  expressions  of  it 
which  are  found  in  ecclesiastical  laws  or  formal  confessions  of  faith. 
The  hiemrchical,  repressive,  and  literalizing  spirit,  against  which  half 
of  Christendom  is  contending,  will  be  seen  to  exist  in  the  Free  Church 
of  Scotland,  and  in  some  of  the  Nonconformist  congregations  in 
England,  as  much  as  in  the  Church  of  Rome,  and  more  than  in  the 
Established  Churches  of  England,  Scotland,  or  Greece.  The  cathoUc 
and  expansive  spirit,  against  which  the  other  half  of  the  Christian 
world  contends,  will  be  found  in  the  older  Churches  aa  certainly  if 
not  as  visibly  as  in  the  newer.  The  unity  which  alone  will  at  last 
prevail,  will  be  found  to  belong  to  none  of  them  exclusively.  "What 
that  unity  is,  or  will  be,  or  what  are  the  various  means  that  will  best 
conduce  towards  it,  would  lead  us  into  too  wide  a  field.  It  is  my 
object  on  this  occasion  only  to  notice  the  three  important  aspects  in 
which,  as  contributing  to  this  blessed  end,  the  work  before  us  chiefly 
desen'es  its  title  of  an  "Eirenicon." 

I.  The  "Eirenicon"  approaches  the  differences  between  two  estranged 
bodies  with  the  unmistakable  intention  of  making  as  much  as  possible 
of  their  points  of  agreement,  as  little  as  possible  of  their  points  of 
difference.  And  as  far  as  I  have  obser\'ed,  this  disposition,  so  far 
from  provoking  any  attack,  has  leather  met  with  commendation.  It 
is  the  rarity  of  this  phenomenon  in  Cliristian  controversy  which 
renders  its  appearance  doubly  ^■aluable,  from  whatever  quarter  it 
comes.  The  general  rule  amongst  tlieological  combatants  lias  heen, 
— and  our  own  Church  and  our  own  time  form  no  exception, — 
that  the  first  duty  is  to  resist  our  supposed  advei-sary,  howe\'er 
excellent  in  other  resj^cts, — if  lie  is  outside  our  owm  pale,  by  widen- 
ing the  chasm  between  us, — if  he  is  inside  our  own  pale,  by  tiying 
to  eject  liim  from  it.  I  have  been  told  of  the  speech  of  a  Free 
Church  minister  in  Scotland,  uttered  with  the  fer\'ency  of  a  pious 
ejaculation, — "  0  that  we  were  all  Inplizcd  into  the  qnnt  of  disnip- 
tioti ! "  Exaggerated  as  it  sounds,  this  truly  expresses  the  common 
ecclesiastical  feeling.  The  "world,"  as  we  call  it,  has  for  the  most 
part  risen  above  tliis  curious  state  of  mind.  But  there  are  many  in 
what  we  call  the  "  Church  "  who  still  think  it  a  sacred  pri\ilege  and 
duty,  still  regard  the  actual  expulsion  and  separation  of  men  fi-om 


Dv.  Pttscys  Eirenicon. 


539 


len,  churches  from  churches,  as  a  thing  uot  to  lie  avouled,  if  jiosaihle, 
l)ut,  ii'  pi3S3il>le,  to  he  fostered  on  thu  smallest  provocatiun. 

In  the  face  of  this,  we  have  litMt;  a  book  whieh  a^ipi-oficbes  a  Chui'cli 
by  most  Engliahraeii  regarded  as  full  of  error, — re;;;ar(led  by  the  author 
limself  as  having  saiictiouedj  in  the  moat  recent  niul  emphatic  man- 
ner, errore  uf  a  very  grave  kind, — with  no  expreasiun  of  bitteruess  or 
'tnuLumiit  or  hostility.      "We  kiiow  that  copious  vocahnhiry  of  ahuae 
■nith  which  the  writings  of  Protestant  divines  abuniul,  even  those 
elnngini,^  to  the  same  school  as  that  of  the  learned  author  of  this 
)k,  even  in  fonuuiaries  sanctioned  more  or  less  by  the  eccleaiaatieal 
lorities  of  our  own  {liinvclx.—Antivkrkt — Buhyhn — Tim  Wommi  iii, 
he  Sci'tn  HiiU — corrupt  —  itiviniroHs-^hiuspktmons  fablts^ — J'ayist — 
misl — Fopis^i-  iy&fxJu^rtf — in:Uiih  malice — ddeMnhlc  aiarmitUs,  &c., 
&c.     Nut  one  of  these  occurs  in  this  treatise,  not  even  when 
lamentinj^  tliat  the  A'iryiu  Maiy  is  described  as  "superior  to  God,"  or 
iat  the  Holy  Ghost  is  described  "as  taken  into  a  quasi-bypostatic 
mion.  with   each  successive  I'ope,"  though  he  wei^i  as  wicked  35 
iexainier  VI.,  or  aa  unwise  a&  at  least  more  than  one  th&t  could  be 
led  in  that  hiy^h  and  important  office.     The  doctrinea  to  which 
sbjection  is  made  are  set  forth  in  its  p^aj^es  clearly  hut  calmly,  in  tho 
words  of  their  o-wu  framei-s,  with  an  evident  eff'ui't  to  appreciate  their 
point  of  view,  with  every  desire  to  suffer  tliem  "to  explain  to  the 
utmost,"  "  to  niaxiniiie  our  points  of  resemhlance  and  to  minimise 
their  points  of  difference,"  "  to  dwell  on  our  real  agreements  instead 
mfii  their  differences  of  wDiding,"  "  to  ixiiut  out  how  much  there  is  in 
fcouiuion  even  where  there  ia  divergence." 

■     Considering  what  the  "No  Pqpeiy  "  feeling  has  been  in  Eugland  ; 
^OEsideriog  its  intensity,  its  liittetneas,  its  ellecta  in  the  dismemberment 
of  bouseliokis  and  nations,  and  in  driving  Protestants  by  reaction  into 
the  Church  of  l!ome;  considerinf^'  the  violence  in  which  some  of  the 
-best  of  our  divines  have  indulged  theuiaelves  in  speaking  of  Itoman 
■Catholic^  to  a  degree  far  below  the  calm  and  measured  language 
lemployed  by  our  men  of  letters  and  our  statesmen, — considering  all 
"this,  it  seeuis  to  me  a  matter  of  sincere  congratulation,  uot  only  that  a 
book  has  been  written,  speaking  of  the  Koman  Catholic  opiuioos  wliich 
^we  condemn,  in  a  teinperato  spirit,  bnt  that  the  book  has  not  excited 
ly  strong  remonstrance  on  this  point  from  any  bnt  the  extremest 
rtisans  of  the  opposite  school- 
But  this  is  a  very  small  part  of  the  benefit  which  may  accrue. 
I'Wliat  ia  approved  as  a  modu  of  dealing  with  one  set  of  opinions  ii'om 
fhich  we  dissent,  or  wttb  one  claaa  of  our  fellow -citizens  or  feUow- 
Chriatians  from  whom  we  are  separated,  must  be  good  also  for  others. 
_Xn  one  passage  in  the  "Eirenicou"  v<B  actually  find  this  expressed  to- 


540 


Tits  Contemp&yary  Review. 


with  the  aconifnl  language  of  tlie  early  "Tracts  for  the  Times."  It' 
is  o'b\'ioua  tliAt,  if  it  be  right  to  discontinue  those  ufl'enaive  epithets 
wliich  are  commoa  ngainat  Roman  Catliolies,  it  must  be  equally  right 
to  diacfuitiime  thnse  of  a  like  kiud  whicli  arc  used  ngaiost  others,  ami 
which  are  not  equally  aut-liorized  liy  venenible  fbniiiilaries,  thouj^h  some 
of  them  go  back  to  the  tirst  ages  of  the  Church.  Tliese  also  we  know 
well.  Tlieir  nmne  is  Legion; — " Athtist,  PnntJicist,  fiijidd,  Sacinian. 
Rationnli'it,  Ntoloffian,  Jikts}>iiemcr*  disJi-ojwst,  nhominfibfc,  Jiend,  in- 
fii-niniimt  o/  Satan,  &c.,  &c.,  &c.  They  have  heea  used  against  som* 
of  the  holiest,  purest,  and  most  tmthfid.  of  men ;  and  in  this  ease,  as  in 
the  case  of  the  Roman  Catholics,  they  can  serve  hartlly  any  purjKise 
except  to  engender  acrimouious  find  exaggerated  feelings  whenever 
they  are  used.  Once  let  it  lie  imderstood,  as  it  ia  iu  the  "  Eii-eiiicnu," 
that  they  are  banished  from  the  works  of  theologians,  as  they  have  Song 
been  banished  from  the  works  of  scholars^  where  tliey  were  once  sw 
rife,  and  the  wurld  will  have  less  occasion  than  it  has  now  to  say, "  See 
how  these  Cluisliaus  hate  onu  another  !"  ami  the  Churcli  will  breatbt 
more  freely  when  the  air  has  lieen  purge*:l  of  tliese  sulphureous  ele- 
ments. And  ]\o\v  much  more  if,  with  the  change  of  words,  came  a 
change  of  spirit  also  1  A  French  Eontan  Catholic  divine  said  manj' 
years  ago  to  a  friend  of  mine,  "  Nt^us  irvons  en  asucz  dt  roUmi'iw. 
il  tiaiis  restc  d  avoir  inn  pi'-u  d'Tr^niqw.'*  Pvhmifs,  as  Archbishop 
Trench  would  remind  us,  are  so  mueh  more  eongeuial,  it"  nut  to  himiau, 
to  controversial  nature,  than  Eimi-irfi,  that  we  can  hanlly  Iio]hj  that 
the  latter  M-ill  soou  become  a  h^gitiniate  wokI.  Still,  even  in  tlus 
difficult  task  it  is  conceivable  that  the  soul  of  man  may  go  throufjEi 
a  new  birth.  The  endeavour  to  accept  opinions  from  which  we  di/t'er 
m  the  counsels  of  a  mistaken  friend  rather  than  as  the  attacks  ul' 
a  malicious  enemy, — tlie  endeavour  to  view  couti-overted  questions 
on  their  own  merits,  and  not  accoriliny  to  the  names  or  positions  of 
the  persons  concerned, — the  endeavour  to  gi'asp  the  truths  which  lie 
beneath  tha  words — is  a  severe  moral  and  intellectual  struggle,  hut 
it  13  one  which,  in  regard  to  Roman  Catholics,  the  "  Eirenicon'^  has 
to  a  great  extent  mastered,  and  it  h  fme  whi^h  must  be  mastered 
in  regard  to  other  controversies,  if  anj-thing  like  a  unity  of  Chri.steii- 
dora  is  evpr  t^  be  thought  of.  "Had  the  human  mind  tlie  snmo 
power  of  holding  fast  points  of  agreement  as  of  discerning  diflerence^, 
there  wotdd  be  an  end  of  the  controversy."  So  on  eminent  lixdnt; 
theologiian  speaks  of  one  particular  subject.     But  it  might  equally  Ihj 


*  It  is  Imnily  necesstuy  to  quote  ttie  Hjiut'eB  from  wlieace  ihcsa  epithets  coma.  It  it 
Biifficient  to  any  \iia%  Uiey  have  been  used  pereonally  ftpiitwt  sucJupen  as  Mr.  MauriM.'^i* 
uisfaop  of  Nutal,  and  the  authora  (>f  "  Essays  giiJ  Koriewi,"  in  our  owti  day,  as,  in  fanner 
ttmes,  iigftinst  tlie  eurlj-  Christiiin*,  qui!,  In  aiir  oyra  Churtli,  againat  TLLoIsub,  Bmt»'»'. 
Jind  mnny  othero. 


Dr.  Puseys  Eirenicon.  541 

said  of  most  of  those  abstract  questions  which  have  divided  Christen- 
dom. "  If  our  Saviour  were  to  come  again  to  earth "  (so  the  same 
divine  continues*),  "which  of  all  these  theories  would  He  sanction 
with  hia  authority  ?  Perhaps  none  of  them :  yet  all  may  he  consistent 
with  a  true  service  of  Him,  Who,  as  he  draws  near  to  Christ  in  the 
face  of  death  will  not  feel  himself  drawn  towards  his  theolo^cal 
opponents  ?  At  the  end  of  life,  when  a  man  looks  back  calmly,  he  is 
most  likely  to  feel  that  he  exaggerated  in  some  things.  .  .  .  The 
truths  about  which  we  are  disputing  cannot  themselves  partake  of 
the  passing  stir :  they  do  not  change  even  with  the  greater  revolutions 
of  human  things.  They  are  in  eternity,  and  the  likeness  of  them  on 
earth  is  to  be  found,  not  in  the  movement  on  the  surface  of  the  waters, 
but  the  depths  of  the  silent  sea.  As  a  measure  of  the  value  of  such 
disputes,  we  may  carry  our  minds  onwards  to  the  invisible  world, 
and  there  behold,  as  in  a  glass,  the  great  theological  teachers  of  past 
ages,  who  have  anathematized  each  other  in  their  lives,  resting 
tt^ther  in  the  communion  of  the  same  Lord." 

II.  I  pass  to  a  second  point  of  pacification  which  the  "  Eirenicon  " 
au^ests.  In  the  remarks  just  quoted,  it  is  implied  that  one  con- 
dition of  a  better  unity  is  the  acknowledgment  of  gradations  of  import- 
ance in  religioiis  truth  and  error — of  an  ascertainable  distinction  be- 
tween things  essential  and  unessential.  Tliis  again  is  a  principle  against 
which  theologians  on  all  siies  have  vehemently  contended.  It  has 
been  constantly  argued  that  we  must  believe  all  or  nothing — "  that 
since  the  truth  is  one  whole,  it  matters  not  in  which  part  of  the  body 
the  poison  of  error  is  introduced;  one  drop  spreads  through  the  whole, 
and  the  whole  faith  of  the  man  is  dead."  Impatience  under  the 
attack  of  a  fly  will,  it  is  urged,  lead  a  man  to  deny  the  goodness  of 
God.  The  belief  in  som?  physiological  fact  about  the  frame  of  some 
inferior  animal  will,  it  is  alleged,  lead  directly  to  atheism. 

It  is  the  same  argument  which  is  used  by  the  false  enchantress  in  the 
"  Idylls  of  the  King  "  to  undermine  the  wise  man's  better  wisdom : — ■ 

"  Unfaith  in  aught  ia  want  of  &ith  in  all. 
It  ifl  the  little  rift  within  the  lute. 
That  by-and'bje  will  make  the  masic  mute. 

"  It  is  not  worth  the  keeping :  let  it  go : 
And  trust  me  not  at  all,  or  all  in  all." 

We  know  the  effect  of  this  on  the  sage : — 

"  He  lay  as  dead, 
And  lost  to  life  and  use  and  name  and  &mc." 

Widely  extended  as  are  the  effects  of  this  principle,  it  is,  in   fact, 

the  position  taken  up  by  the  extreme  Ultramontane  school  in  the 

severest  form.     It  is  evidently  held  by  the  present  Pope,  and  runs 

•  ProfesBor  Jowett,  "  The  EpistlcB  of  St.  Paul,"  ii.  695. 


542  The  Contemporary  Review, 

through  the  denunciations  of  his  Encyclical  Letter,  and  his  attacks 
on  the  Italian  Government  and  on  the  Freemaaons.  It  is  the 
doctrine  which  I  have  heard  asserted  by  an  Italian  preacher  in  defence 
of  a  fair  held  in  honour  of  a  wonder-working  image,  in  "which,  after 
declaiming  on  the  "  rapid  advances  of  Eationalism  and  Infidelity,"  he 
exhorted  his  audience  to  meet  the  enemy  at  the  outposts  as  the 
"  sentinels  of  the  faith ; "  which  "  outposts  "  were  accordingly  to  be 
the  elaborate  procession  and  the  merry  auction  held  in  behalf  of  the 
gaily  decorated  image. 

It  is  obvious  tliat  this  doctrine  increases  the  difficulty  of  union  a 
hundredfold.  It  converts  every  point  of  religious  belief,  right  or 
wrong,  into  a  fortress  which  must  be  defended  to  the  death.  It  con- 
verts every  difference,  on  matters  great  and  small  alike,  into  an  int^- 
necine  war.  It  would,  indeed,  be  so  destructive  of  human  intercourse, 
and  runs  so  counter  to  all  the  facta  of  our  complex  human  nature, 
that,  even  when  held,  it  probably  is  never  held  with  absolute  consist- 
ency. But  the  interest  of  the  "  Eirenicon  "  in  this  respect  is  that  tlie 
two  principles  of  "  all  or  nothing  "  on  one  side,  and  of  a  graduation  of 
belief  on  the  other,  are  brought  into  direct  collision,  and  that  the  author, 
in  this  important  divei^ence,  takes  his  stand  against  the  Pope,  against 
the  dogmatists,  and  is  found  on  the  side  of  peace,  of  discrimination, 
(will  he  allow  me  to  say  so  ?)  of  liberality  and  of  free  thought.  He 
will  not  consent  to  be  draped  on  to  beUeve  every  decree  of  the  Pope, 
or  eveiy  decree  of  the  Sacred  Congregations,  because  he  believes  iii 
the  Apostles'  Creed.  He  accepts  the  position  "that,  in  order  to  doubt 
of  one  doctrine,  we  need  not  doubt  of  all."*  He  thinks  that  there 
is  a  tenable  standing-place  between  blank  atheism  and  an  accept- 
ance of  the  Immaculate  Conception  and  the 'verbal  inspiration  of 
the  Pope.  And  for  this  he  is  taunted,  as  sucli  moderation  ever  has 
been  taunted,  with  denying  the  Divine  origm  of  Christianity.*!*  He 
is  charged  witli  complicity  in  Iieresy.  He  has  exposed  himself  to  the 
denunciations  of  tiie  Encyclical  Letter  by  declaring  that  the  Papal 
civil  power  is  a  speculation  of  human  wisdom  and  not  of  Divine 
faith.  He  even  seems  to  recognise,  with  Sclileiermacher,  that  opinioiis 
from  wliich  he  would  greatly  differ  may  be  necessary  for  the  ultimate 
development  of  trutli,  as  manure  is  to  the  harvest.  % 

How  widely  this  liberal  and  pacifying  principle  strikes  into  our 
modem  divisions,  it  is  needless  to  say.  Perhaps  one  of  its  earhest 
statements  was  in  that  remarkable  chapter  in  Baxter's  Narrative  of 
his  Own  Times,  § — in  itself  an  Eirenicon  of  priceless  value, — where, 

•  P.  258.  t  Dublin  Hhuw.  %  P.  282. 

}  This  chapter  (conveuicntlj-  read  in  'Wordsworth's  "  Ectlesiastical  Biogniplij-,"  vol.  v., 
559-07))  which,  inaay  years  ago,  vras  rocomtnended  to  me  by  Sir  James  Stephen,  I 
hare  often  Tentnrcd,  and  still  continue  to  recommend,  to  ail  theological  atudenta. 


Dr.  Piisey's  Eirenicon,  543 

amongst  other  indications  of  the  greater  calm  and  moderation  produced 
by  growing  years,  he  finds  that  "of  truths  certain  in  themselves,  all  were 
not  equally  certain  to  him."  Nowhere  has  it  been  more  powerfully  set 
forth  than  by  those  distinguished  Roman  Catholic  divines  who  have  to 
struggle,  as  we  in  our  own  Church  have  had  to  struggle  also,  against 
the  tendency  which  exists,  equally  in  Rome  as  in  England,  to  exalt 
the  floating  opinions  of  popular  theolc^iaus  to  the  level  of  dogmatic 
authority.  "  The  great  scholastic  theologians  maintained  that  it 
was  not  less  heretical  to  declare  that  to  be  an  article  of  faith  which 
was  not  de  fide,  than  to  deny  an  article  of  faith  altogether."*  0  si 
sic  omncs!  0  si  sic  omnia! — whether  on  questions  of  Papal  or  Biblical 
inspiration;  whether  on  the  literal  flames  of  Purgatoiy  or  the  end- 
less duration  of  future  punishment ;  whether  on  tlie  Dominican  or 
Franciscan  theory  of  the  Immaculate  Conception,  or  the  Anselmian, 
or  Lutheran,  or  Calvinistic,  or  Grotian  theory  of  Justification  and 
Atonement. 

III.  The  most  striking  result  of  the  "  Eirenicon  "  and  its  acceptance 
is  the  effect  on  the  future  position  of  the  Thirty-nine  Articles,  and 
with  them,  of  ecclesiastical  Confessions  generally.  It  is  not  necessary 
to  go  through  in  detad  the  explanations  by  wliich  at  least  twelve  of  the 
thirty-nine  are  reduced  in  this  learned  work  to  mere  truisms,  which, 
under  such  explanations,  certainly  no  one  would  think  it  worth  while 
to  retain,  as  no  one  would  originally  have  thought  it  worth  while 
to  issue  them.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  Tract  XC.  has  been 
re-aflinned,  and  the  general  result  is  that  stated  by  a  well-known 
quarterly  journal,-}-  the  recognised  exponent  of  the  views  expressed 
by  the  "Eirenicon,"  in  an  article  which  is  one  sustained  eulogy 
upon  it,  and  which  I  believe  has  never  been  disavowed  by  any  of 
the  school  which  it  represents.    The  reviewer  says  :— 

"  One  is  tempted  to  ask  with  wonder,  How  is  it  that  men  ever  liave  placeil 
such  implicit  belief  in  the  Articles  1  ...  No  other  answer  can  be  given 
than  that  they  have  been  neglected  and  ignored,  ...  It  is  impossible 
to  deny  that  they  contain  statements  or  assertions  that  arc  verbally  false, 
and  others  that  are  very  difficult  to  reconcile  with  truth.  .  .  .  What 
service  have  they  ever  done,  and  of  what  use  are  they  at  the  prasent  time  I 
.  .  .  ITieir  condemnation  has  been  virtually  pronounced  by  the  'Eirenico]i.' 
Virtually,  for  it  is  after  all  only  an  implicit  not  an  explicit  condemnation 
of  them  that  the  volume  contains.  ,  ,  .  Wo  venture  to  go  a  step 
furtlier,  and  boldly  proclaim  our  own  opinion,  that  before  union  wth  Komo 
con  Iw  effected  [that  is,  before  that  can  be  effected  which  the  reviewer 
thinks  most  desirable],  the  Tliirty-ninc  Articles  must  be  wholly  withdrawn. 
They  are  virtually  withdrawn  at  the  present  moment,  for  the  endorsement 
of  the  view  of  the  'Eirenicon'  by  the  ivriter  in  the  Times  proves  that,  as 
fer  as  the  moat  important  of  the  Articles  are  concerned,  there  are  persons 
who  sign  them  in  senses  absolutely  contradictory." 

*  Professor  DOllingeT's  Addreu  to  the  Conferecce  at  Munich, 
t  Chrutian  Bemembranetr,  Januaiy,  1866,  p.  188. 


544 


TIu  Contemporary  Rcvitw. 


Tlie  peculiar  positiou  thus  asaigned  to  tlie  Articles  is  Tendered  doul 
iniportaiit  by  the  contrast  between  tlie  furious  outcry  with  which  this 
dissolving  aii<l  dispaTagiiig  pmcess  whs  received  twenty  years  a^o,  and 
the  almost  complete  ncquiesewit-e  witli  which  it  lias  bteii  received  dciw. 
There  (ire  many  of  iia  ohl  enuugh  to  reinemher  the  agitation  in  1841, 
and  Btill  more  iu  1845^  when  the  matter  was  limuglit  to  its  final  issue 
ill  the  laraoiis  Oxfoiil  Convocation  of  the  13th  of  Febniary.     We  hnvu 
Been  many  theological  distnrbauces  in  our  time,  but  nothing  etjiial  to 
that.     The  religious  and  secular  press  were  u])  in  arms.     The  Bishojia 
ill  their  charges  cliFirged  long  and  Icnid.     (I  do  not  mean  with  ohsohite 
unanimity;  there  was  at  least  one  Bishop  who  abstained  then,  as  he 
woiihl  have  abstained  now,  had  he  still  lived,  from  joining  in  any  of 
the  iudi scrim inating  Episcopal  denuncititinus  which  bavu  been  so 
common  in  the  last  few  years.     If  ever  there  was  a  theological  treftiise 
under  a  ban  it  was  Tract  XC    And  now  it  ia  republished,  ^irtitally.  in 
the  "  Eirenicon."- — actually,  in  the  pamphlet*  which  may  be  called  ii 
postscript  to  the  "Eirenicon."     !Not  a  word  of  renioiistratice,     TLe 
Heads  of  Houses  are  silent.     The  Bishops  are  silent.     The  leading 
joum&Ia  eveji  approve  it,  and  i-xmsider  the  forinur  outcry  "as  Imli' 
cronsly    exaggerated   and   onesided."     The   learned   author    of  the 
"Eirenicon"  has,    I    believe,   received    no   gerious   annoyance  from 
this,  bold  step.     "  The  explanations"  (I  quote  -again  from  the  saruft 
jourual)  "  which  in  Ti'aet  XC.  were  vegartled  as  pieces  of  the  most 
subtle  sophistry,  are  repeated  in  the  *  Eirenicon  '  not  only  without  re- 
buke from  anyljody,  but  with  the  approving  sympathy  oi  Ihousaudit 
.     .     .    ^VTiat  the  Bishops  and  others  in  a  panic  of  ignorance  con- 
demned in  1841  is  accepted  and  allowed  to  be  entirely  tenable  in  ISliii." 
Such  a  phenomenon  in  itself,  irrespectively  of  the  -^uXyect,  18  <^ 
a  most  reassuring  and  pacificatory  kind.    It  is  interesting  and  con- 
soling to  trace  such  a  palpable  instance  of  the  tot^d  tiollapse   of  a 
great  theologiciil  bugbear,  siuch  a  proof  of  the  ephemenil  character  of 
protests   and   ilenundfttiona   and    panj<;.>«,   such   an   example  of  the 
retnm  of  public  and  ecclesiastical  feeling  to  the  ealni  consideration  of 
a  topic  which  once  seemed  so  hopelessly  inflammable.    The  Hamp- 
den controversy,  the  tJorham  controversy,  the  "Essays  and  Reviews" 
controversy,  the  Colenso  conti'oversy — all  have  had  their  turn ;  hut 
none  e>:eit-etl  auch  violent  passions,  and  of  none  would  the  ultimate 
extinction  have  apfieared  so  strange  whilst  the  storm  was  raging,  as 
the  extinction  of  the  controversy  of  Tmct  XC, 

But  still  more  interesting  ui  tlie  cause  of  peace  is  it  when  wt 
reganl  the  subject-matter.  It  was  the  question  nf  ths  bmding,  strin- 
gent force  of  om-  cMef  historical  Confession  of  Eaith.    It  had  appeaw) 

•  Tract  XC.    llcpuhliahL'iI,  with  a  Treftice  by  tho  llcv.  E.  B.  Pusoy,  D.D. 

t  Chyiilian  Beinrmbrmitrr,  ZooMOxy,  1666,  pp.  163,  167,  179. 


r 


hi  1841,  that  this  Confession  hail  suddenly  given,  way  on  the  points 
on  which  it  was  thought  the  atrongest;  that  eniuient  divines  hud 
burst  through  the  Imuds.  with  which  the  old  Philistines — the  Karl 
of  Leicester  imd  King  James  I. — had  bound  them,  "  as  a  thread  of 
;toft'  is  broken  when  it  toucheth  the  fire."  On  no  theological  question 
was  it  believed  that  the  Articles  had  epuken  morii   certainly,   find 

Ivith  a  more  de-libemte  iutoution,  than  tigaiust  the  doctrines  of  the 
Church  of  Home ;  and  Tract  XC.  aimoTinced  that  thoy  had  been 
vj  carelesaly  or  so  ambiguously  framed  n&  to  admit  tliose  who 
held  these  very  doctrines.  Thi*  it  was  which  produced  the  alarm. 
"VVlMit  has  produced  the  calm  ?  Many  canaea  have  contributed  ; — 
the  recimlesceiice  of  the  High  Church  party;  the  Q^liarm  thrown 
over  the  history  uf  that  lime  by  the  "  Apologia  ;"  the  exhaustion 
of  the  odium  (kfulogicam  in  another  direction.  Bnt  mainly,  and 
beyond  all  question,  and  long  before  tliese  events,  it  was  the  groivlh 
of  the  conviction,  that  such  fornmlaries  must  not  be  overstraitied ;  that 

I  their  chief  use  is  that  of  historical  landmarks  of  the  faith  of  the 
Church  at  a  yiveii  time,  but  that  they  canuot,  by  the  very  nature  of 
the  case,  bind  the  thoughts  and  consciences  of  futui-e  times.  Tliis 
conviction  had  already  begun  to  prevail  even  when  Tract  XC,  appeared. 
By  the  time  of  the  fierce  and  hua!  attack  in  1845,  what  Iiaa  since  been 
called  the  LibenJ  party  in  the  Church  was  auflicieutly  powerful  to 
mflke  {L  strong  ndly  in  favour  of  toleration.  The  first  force  of  the 
intended  blow  against  Tract  XC.  was  broken  by  two  vigorous  pam- 
phlets from  this  quarter — one  by  the  pitsent  Biahop  of  London,  tlie 
other  1)5*  Mr.  Maurice.     It  wels  resisted  in  the  Oxford  Convocation 

I  by  almost  all  tliose  who  have  since  been  most  vehemently  assailed 
by  those  whom  they  then  defended— 1>}'  four  out  of  the  iive  Oxford 
Essajists,  and  by  others  of  like  tendencies,  but  who  have  been  for- 
tunately less  coospicuotia. 

The  good  cause  has  triumphed  at  last.  It  is  true  that  the  parti' 
cular  form  which  Tract  XC.  and  the  "Eirenicon"  take  of  dis.solvhtg 
the  Articles  may  not  be^I  tiiink  it  ia  uot — historically  tenable.  It 
is  true  that  the  vehement  attack  upon  them  in  the  ChriMiati  Mcmern- 
■  hraiv^er  ts  exaggerated  in  tone  aud  substance.  But  the  general 
principle  of  the  iuefficacy  and  inadequacy  of  sucli  Confessions  is  the 
same  as  that  which  has  been  stated  in  the  moat  lucid  and  enei-getJc 
language  by  the  Dean  of  St.  I'aul's,  in  his  speech  on  the  Thirty-uiiie 
Articles  iu  the  Itoyal  Commission,  and  by  Principal  TuEloch  in  his 
Address  on  the  Westminster  Confession  to  the  students  of  Diviuitj'- 
in  the  University  of  St,  Andrew,?.;  aud  thi.'j  change  of  feeling  has 
cided  witli,  aud  resulted  in,  the  fundamental  chauge  iU  the  terms 
subscription  effected  by  the  Legi.?kture  last  year.* 
'  I  quote  the  BubsCaQcs  fmd  effect  of  this  change  from  Uio  apeech  of  lAx.  Charles  Buxton 


I 

J 


546  TJte  Contemporary  Review, 

The  republication  and  general  acceptance  of  Tract  XC,  brought 
about  as  it  has  mainly  been  through  the  growth  of  the  principles  here 
described,  render  it  henceforth  almost  impossible  that  the  Articles  can 
again  be  used  for  the  purposes  for  which  they  have  been  usually 
hitherto  employed.    The  celebrated  passages  from  Archbishop  Usher 
and  Archbishop  Bramhall,  which  Dr.  Newman  quoted  in  his  own  behalf 
in  his  defence  of  Tract  XC,  have  now  a  chance  of  receiving  a  universal 
application,  such  as  perhaps  at  that  time  he  himself  little  contemplated. 
There  is  a  hope  that  they  may  become  indeed,  as  they  are  called  \s^ 
these  two  Primates,  Articles  of  Peace, — Articles  of  Peace,  because 
not  Articles  of  Belief;  Articles  of  Peace,  and  therefore  not  weapons 
of  hatred.      "That  work  which  Tract  XC.  effected  will  never  be 
undone,  so  long  as  the  Articles  shall  last."*    That  work,  indeed,  in  a 
deeper  sense  than  the  author  of  those  words  may  have  intended,  never 
will  be  undone — the  work  of  showing  how  every  opinion  can  find  its 
resting-place  somewhere  in  their  manifold  statements;  how  none  can  be 
condemned  merely  because  of  apparent  inconsistency  with  them ;  how 
none  can  be  taunted  with  neglecting  their  details  if  he  accepts  their 
general  substance.    They  may  still  be  used  as  guides  to  the  theology 
of  the  Eefortnation ;   they  may  still  be  used  as  protections  for  the 
weaker  party  in  the  Church ;  they  may  still  be  employed  as  a  frame- 
work of  theological  education,  and  as  expressions  of  the  form  which 
the  general  doctrine  of  Christianity  has  taken  in  the  English  Church. 
But  tliey  can  no  more  be  used,  as  they  have  hitherto  been  used,  for 
the  purpose  of  multiplying  division  and  distrust,  and  of  furnishing 
food  for  those  unhappy  insinuations  of  dishonesty  and  inconsistency 
aud  perfidy,  which  apply  either  to  no  one  or  to  every  one,  and  which 

in  the  IIouso  of  CommooB — a  statement  doubly  important  from  tho  fact  that  he  wa»  him- 
self a  Boyol  Commissioner,  and  that  it  was  not  contradicted  by  any  of  the  Commiuionen 
present,  nor  by  any  member  of  the  Government,  and  that  most  of  the  changes  proposed  -wen 
those  ^bich,  both  by  many  of  the  Bishops  in  Parliament,  and  by  Convocation,  bad  bees 
so  long  resisted : — "  It  was  of  the  greatest  importance  to  observe  that  all  those  phrua 
which  indicated  that  the  subscriber  declared  his  acceptance  of  every  dogma  of  the  Charch 
bad  been  swept  away ;  and  this  had  been  done  CTpressly  and  of  forethought.  As  regarded 
tho  Thirty-nine  Articles,  the  Commission  had  agreed  to  sweep  away  the  words,  '  each  and 
every  of  them ; '  implying,  therefore,  that  the  subscriber  was  only  to  take  them  as  a  vhdt, 
even  though  he  might  disagree  with  them  hero  and  there,  Aa  regarded  the  Prayer-book, 
the  change  was  even  still  more  marked ;  for,  instead  of  declaring  bis  assent  and  content  to 
all  and  everything  it  contained,  he  only  declared  his  assent  to  tho  Sook  of  Praver — that  ii 
to  say,  to  the  hook  as  a  whole, — and  bis  belief  that  tbo  doctrine  of  the  Church  tbertiB 
set  forth  was  agreeable  to  tho  word  of  God.  Observe  that  be  would  not  declare  that  the 
doctrines  in  the  plural  number,  or  that  each  and  nil  of  the  doctrines,  were  agrecoble  to  tie 
word  of  God,  but  only  tbc  doctrine  of  the  Church  in  the  singular  number.  It  was  m- 
preasly  and  unanimously  agreed  by  the  Commission  that  the  word  'doctrine'  should  be 
used  in  the  singular  number,  in  order  that  it  might  be  understood  that  it  was  tho  geaeni 
teaching,  and  not  every  part  and  parcel  of  that  teaching,  to  which  assent  was  given." 
•  Dr.  I'usey  on  Tract  XC,  p.  xxviii. 


Dr.  Pusey's  Eircmcon, 


547 


pitlier  invite  legal  processes  against  every  one  or  against  no  one,  of  all 
lose  who  liavti  si^pieil  them,  from  the  Primate  down  to  the  Cuijvte, 
roni  the  extremest  Ltbenvl  to  the  extreniest  Conservative  of  the  hty- 
men  "whu  vote  in  the  Oxfonl  Convocation.* 

■    I  need  hardly  say  that,  as  regards  the  hearing  of  tlie  Tliirty-nine 
^i-ticles  on  the  i-ecertt  disputes  in  the  Church  of  England,  this  heavy 
Mow  to  their  authority  is  of  no  direct  consequence.    Not  only  haa  the 
hijjhest  Court  in  the  Chiiicli  and  realm  declared  that  the  Arttctea 
■bave  left  those  questions  perfectly  open,  hut  the  venerable  poet  to 
Plfhoai  the  "  Eirenicon  "  is  dedic&ted,  has  long  ago  acknowledged  the 
same  important  fact.    "  If  a  man  were  mindeil  to  deny  the  inspiration 
rtf  Holy  Scriptnre.'t"  and  the  eternity  of  Helt  torments,  he  woidd  have 
|lnly  to  point  out  that  they  are  not  affirmed  in  the  Articles."  +    The 
Liberal  cler^  of  the  CliuTcli  (aa  they  are  calledj  have  every  reason 
^  be  grateful  to  the  Articles  for   the  protection  which   they  have 
^finrded  to  those  whom  the  unauthorized  ckmour  of  individuals  would 
liave  driven  from  their  positions.     The  Thirty-nine  Articles,  as  well 
as  the  Uecrees  ci  Trent  and  the  Weatminater  Confea3ion,§  are  doubt- 
less, from  the  mere  fact  of  their  composite  and  official  origin,  more 
gently  and  cautiously  expressed  than  dociunenta  on  the  aarae  subjects 
suing  from  mere  individual  zeal. 

It  is  not  on  behalf  of  any  recent  events,  therefore,  tliat  I  have  dwelt 
this  [ihase  of  the  "Eirenicon."  But  not  the  less  needful  is  it  to  oh- 
erve,  that  nn  all  points  on  which  the  Articles  have  expressed  or  are 
supiMsed  to  have  expressed  themselves,  the  euonnoits  latitude  opened 
hy  Tract  XC.  and  the  "  Eirenicon  "  must  extend  to  every  opinion  con- 
demned by  them.  Even  the  ailherent-s  of  Barclay's  "Apology,"  and  of 
t.he  fiacoviun  Catechism,  as  far  iia  the  wording  of  the  Articles  ^n^^,  and 
the  explanations  of  Tract  XC.  are  concerned,  might  claim  a  position 
pBr'ithin  the  Church  of  England  aa  tenable  as  that  which  is  oHered  hy 
le  "  Eirenicon"  and  it«  supporters  to  the  adherents  of  the  Decrees 
Trent.  And  the  real  cause  for  rejoieiiig  is  not  that  tliia  or  that 
Bt  of  opinions  should  be  adinitttid  which  was  once  believed  to  be 
tclnded,  but  that  tliis  decisive  proof  of  the  inadequacy  of  the 
iieological   language  of  a   past  age  to  bind   the  thoughts  of  suc- 


The  faict  Ihdt  the  old  Atrin^ent  form.*,  which  hiiTe  Ic^^n  aliolishcd  for  tlie  clergy,  BtiU 
'remun  in  forca  for  tho  Iny  degrees  at  Oxfoid,  only  adda  to  tiif  importooM  of  ttp«o 
ronridmtioM. 

t  "What  is  meant.  pTOhoTily,  is  the  peauliar  tieory  of  ingpLration  held  liy  the  Toncrable 
KQlhor,     Hut  liis  Btaieiiwut  ii  equally  tniif  respcttiiig  any  theory  Ihftt  tma  ever  bten  pro- 

•  Keble'g  "  Entharistital  Adoratibn,"  p,  162, 

J  This  has  b«en  well  shown  in  a  lecture  of  Profeaaor  Mitchell,  of  St;.  Andrew'*,  on  the 
Wi:aln»ioaIcr  Coiifesaiiiti,  in  which  he  points  nut,  in  sonift  respetis,  it*  auiwriurity,  in  point 
k  oomprfbcoiiTenv&a  imd  Jeptli  of  view,  both  tg  ths  Lrlsh  Anivles  and  osr  own. 


548 


Tke  Contcmporayy  Review. 


ceediiig  ages  places  all  such  Coufessious  of  Faith  everywhere  on 
thwir  i-iylit  footing.*  It  is  to  be  welcouiod  for  the  sake  of  the 
Komaa  Cathwlics,  and  for  the  sake  of  the  Scottish  rresbyteriaiis, 
aa  much  as  for  ourselves.  If  the  deliiiitioQ  of  Ori^'inal  Sin  by  Ur. 
Ne«"mfLn  seems  to  our  ears  almost  impossible  t€  reconcile  with 
the  letter  of  the  Decrees  of  Ti-ent ;  if  the  uoble  jJi-otest  which  Dr. 
Macleorl  has  made  against  the  extreme  Sabbatarianism  of  Scotland^ 
or  the  eiiimlly  determined  protest  wliicU  the  Free  Churek  haa  made 
agaiust  the  ecclesiastical  authority  of  the  civil  magistrate,  seems,  in 
either  case,  difficult  to  reconcile  with  the  letter  of  the  Westminster 
C'oiifession — these  are  but  iustances  of  the  inevitable  collision  which 
must  take  |'It»ce  between  the  letter  and  the  spti-it  of  each  sucoeediuy 
age;  between  the  form  of  words  wMch  was  drawn  up  with  one 
purpose,  and  the  growth  of  sentiments  and  Opinions  which  have 
sprung  up  with  a  totally  different  puipose.  Such  formularies  can- 
not l)e  the  true  safeguarda  of  faith  and  devotion.  Whatever  else 
may  be  their  uses,  they  have  manifestly  failed  in  thii,  whilst,  en 
the  other  hand,  they  have  been  employed  for  those  baser  ends 
of  recrimination  and  attack  for  which  they  were  never  intended. 
Bttt  no  ChHrch  will  gam  more  by  this  acknowledgment  of  the 
secondarj-  po.sition  of  dogmatic  Confessions  tlian  our  own,  be- 
cause it  is  thereby  enabled  to  return  to  its  true  position,  which  it 
enjoyed  before  the  Ai-t-iclua  were  imposed  on  its  membera,  as  tlse 
Church  f)f  the  whole  nation.  By  such  disentanglemcnts  the  Church 
of  England  will  become  free  in  a  far  deeper,  more  spiritual  sense.  thaB 
that  in  which  we  have  lately  heard  that  "the  Church  of  South  Afrioi 
is  free," — free,  not  (as  in  that  case,  if  so  be)  from  the  restraints  and 
pTOtectioTi  of  English  law,  but  free  from  the  embarrassments  in  which 
the  factions  of  former  times  involved  it;  free  to  occupy  that  grea* 
position  which  De  Maiatre  assigned  to  it,  touching  with  one  hand  the 
Churches  and  thoughts  of  the  older  world,  touching  with  the  other 
the  Churches  and  thought.^  of  the  newer  world.     Tliese  two  mighty 

*  It  IB  of  cQiiTsa  not  intended  that  the  general  Q<K;optaoco  gf  the  "  Eintnicon." 
hu  eq.ual1y  tlio  same  effect  an  tdl  Con  fissions,  f^^  niore  etmple  uid  ftaciest  Cmdi 
OKI  mnT^  uiuTereol  in  cbiiraffer  tlina  iLe  mcxleni  CoDregsioma;  BJid  tlte  gteat  theo- 
logical wo-nii  ■vrhicU  bnVe  mOuldod  tia  tbi>ughC3  of  men  are  monJ  potrcrful  ud 
pregnant,  in  proportioa  to  tfae  length  and  depth  of  tlif  aasociHtJons  whicL  they  cairj-  with 
thpEQ,  and  the  prefciaon  -with  vhich  they  w-ore  framed.  Yet  even  hef«  it  is  mfficarnl 
td  point  to  the  ivA — (1)  that  the  plinuo  itoMoiin^ion  vr&t  6m  used  by  heretieat  and  ood- 
demand  hy  ouo  council  m  heretical  lucfore  it  n'os  uduptcd  by  another  council  oa  oithod<))c; 
nnd  ihiit  Atb-onasiiis  himaelf,  nftor  its  adoption,  rorc^ly,  if  ever,  u^cd  it  again  in  his  mm 
polemii'-al  wtitingB;  (2)  that  the  irord  /lypotlaaU,  which  in  the  .VthnnasiiiQ  Cl'crf  it  tnitB- 
luted  prrion,  was  in  tlie  original  Siceoe  Creed  u»ed  us  dynonj-Eioits  with  m&ilinier  ;  and  [S) 
that  the  J^lio'/iic  ia  the  Alhonaaiiin  and  tho  in't-sciit  Niiene  tVepd  is  <:crtiunlj'  not  ioTevted 
with  the  snme  importiuce  by  ihoauwlio  nru  now  uaiioiu  to  effi-ct  a  union  vltfi  the  HiulfTti 
Churthcs,  a^  it  was  by  those  who  intrt^duccd  the  phrosu  with  the  cjcprt^a  objdet  of  cos- 
denming  those  Chuichee. 


Dr.  Puse^s  Eirtnkon. 


549 


tenilaicies  tan  grow  up  iu  a  litiiiltliy  Christian  ^Towth  nowhere  so 
securely  and  safely  as  within  such  a  Naiional  Church  as  oara,  wUioh. 
with  ihs  author  "jI"  the  "  Eirenicon,"  we  huuilily  trust  "  has  not  with- 
out 307ue  great  purpose  of  Crod  been  so  marvellously  presei'ved  until 


now/'* 

For  the  three  reaBon&,  then,  whieh  I  have  adduced,  the  "Eireiiicou" 
seeiDJ^  tij  me  t-o  call  for  the  thautfuluess  of  tliose  whu  (.'are  for  the  peace 
of  ChriBtendom.  It  is  uot  my  intention,  on  the  one  hand,  to  have 
merely  prea^'^ed  an  arf/rtmentuni  ad  hmiiiiu-in.  I  wish  to  merge  the 
individual  iu  the  body,  and  to  make  it,  if  I  may  so  turn  the  phrase, 
an  (iTffuvientum  ad  clermn.  On  the  other  hand,  whilst  speaking  of 
this  leanied  work  as  a  step,  I  siiall  uot  be  understood  to  describe  it 
as  the  chief,  or  the  most  necessaiy  step  in  "  the  more  excellent  way" 
towards  the  true  unity  of  Christendom.  .  Even  coufiuing  oui*aelyes 
to  the  peaceraaking  eft'ects  of  books,  thefe  are  many  which  ought 
to  be  ranked  aiuonggt  the  "  Eirenica,"  of  a  yet  hifjher  and  more 
persuasive  order.  Such  is  the  "  Iiuitiition  of  Christ."  Such  aie  the 
"  Christian  Year"  and  the  "  Pilgi'iiu's  Progress," — eoch  proving  by  its 
general  acceptance  the  strenj^th  and  the  uuinber  of  thu  religious  ideafl 
comtQOii  to  the  whole  of  English  Chrietendom.  Snch,  again,  are  the 
Sermtiiis  of  the  lamented  Koheitsou,  also  accepted  a.?  the  chief  of 
Engliah  preachers  l>y  almost  every  phase  of  Kn^lish  religions  thought. 
Sucli,  to  take  a  higlier  flight,  are  the  masterpieces  of  the  thG<)logy  of 
great  men — Bacon,  Butler,  Paacal,  Hhakspei'e.  iSuch,  to  descend  a 
step  lower  again,  are  such  homely  practical  works  as  that,  the 
removal  of  which  from  its  former  place  in  the  roLommetidation  of 
Bishops,  I  often  hoar  mentioned  with  deep  regret — Hey's  "  Lectures 
on  the  Articles."  Huch — to  take  an  instance  from  worils  pacific  in 
intention,  nnd  which  would,  if  they  were  known  as  they  deserve  to 
l-«,  commend  themselves  as  an  Eirenicon  of  the  highest  rank,  to 
all  who  read  them — are  those  admirable  jiagea  in  Pi-ofessor  Jowett's 
''Essay  on  the  Interpretation  of  Scripture,"-^  on  the  etifccts  of  a  deeper 
fttudy  of  the  Bible.  Such  is  the  eH'ect  of  that  remarkable  book,  of 
mystt-rious  origin,  the  £cce  Homo,  awakening  a  thrill  of  eiiLution  and 
sympathy  in  30  many  diverse  minds  by  the  force  with  which  it 
presses,  iu  all  its  power  and  simplicity,  the  mind  and  work  of  Him 
who  needs  only  to  be  thns  understood  "to  tlraw  all  men  to  Himself." 

These  works  aim  at  that  true  unity  of  doctrine — or  dogma,  if  you 
choose  to  call  it  bo — which  throws  the  outward  fonu  of  doj^ma  or 
doctrine  into  the  shade.  They  aim,  not  merely  at  the  means,  but  at  tiie 
very  end  itself,  and  the  all  but  universal  ajipToval  of  thera  shows  that, 
apart  fiom  personal  and  party  feeling,  the  end  is  snch  as  is  by  tho 
highest  religious  and  theological  tendencies  of  the  tijue  fully  recogniaed, 

k  *  V.  2SS.  t  Pp.  3&0-6,  410-21. 

I    VOL.  I.  -  2  0 


5  so 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


The  "Eirenicon"  has  another  object,  -Hithiii  a  more  limited,  because 
extern^  and  ecclesiastical  sphere.  But  within  that  s])}iere  it  etill 
coutribiates  soraetliuig,  thi'i:nt|rh  the  three  aspects  which  I  have 
aoticed,  and  yet  more  thtough  their  general  acceptance,  to^iu-ds  the 
game  end.  Though  we  may  reject,  as  impracticable  or  itDilesirahlei,  tli* 
particular  remedy  Tvhich  it  offera,  yet  like  the  rcseareht'S  of  iik-heiuy 
after  the  philosopher's  atone  (to  use  the  illuatmtion  of  Leibnitz),  it 
may  bring  to  light  elements  of  which  the  Divine  Chemistry  will  aviiil 
itself  in  ways  that  we  know  not  of.  Morally,  we  may  lie  allowed,  I 
trust,  to  consider  it  as  leading,  not  directly,  perhapa,  but  indirectly, 
towards  that  true  spiritual  unity  lonjjed  for  by  the  eminent  Noncou- 
fomiist  whom  I  havu  already  cited,  in  which,  "  notwithstanding  the  sad 
divisions  in  1he  Chmvh.  all  the  saints,  so  far  as  tliey  aie  sanctitifd,  are 
one;  are  one  in  their  aims,  one  in  their  askioga.  oae  in  amity  and 
friendship,  one  in  interest,  one  in  their  inlieritauce.  .  .  .  The  things 
in  which  the}-  are  agreed  are  many  more,  and  more  considerable  than 
the  things  wherein  they  differ.  They  are  all  of  a  mind  concerning  sin, 
that  it  is  the  worst  thing  in  the  world ;  concerning  Christ,  that  He  is 
all  ill  all ;  concerning  the  fiivnur  of  (iod,  that  it  is  better  than  life ; 
concerning  the  world,  that  it  is  vanity ;  concerning  the  word  of  Ood. 
that  it  is  very  precious."*  Intellectually,  we  may  be  allowed  to  regard 
it,  in  the  three  point*"  which  I  have  mentioned,  as  not  alien  to  that 
iitiity  or  Truce  of  God,  advocated  by  the  eminent  Human  Catholie  divine 
whom  I  have  also  rjuoted  more  than  once,  as  the  result  of  the  Thwi- 
logy  of  the  ninctrentli  century,  when  he  points  to  "  tlie  sphere  whew 
those  elsewhere  rehgiou&ly  divided  may  come  together  and  carrj"  wu 
their  work  and  Iheir  inquiries  in  harmony;  where  all,  impelled  by  the 
same  tlui-at  of  knowledge,  and  drinking  out  of  the  same  sacred  foun- 
tains of  truth,  gi'ow  together  in  one  common  fellowship ;  and  from  tliis 
fellowship  and  lirotherhood  of  knowledge  there  will  one  day  proceed  ii 
higher  unity  and  conciliation,  embracing  the  whole  domain,  first  of 
historical,  and  tlien  of  religious  truth;  when,  undyr  the  influence  of  a 
milder  atmosphere,  the  crust,  of  polemical  and  sectarian  ice  will  tha* 
and  melt  away  as  the  patriot  and  Christian  hopes  and  prays,""}" 

A.  P.  Stanley. 


'  Philip  n^fnTj.     See  hia  Lifu  in  Woidaworth'a  "Eeol.  Riog'.i"  yi.  3*4. 

t  Funeral  Onilion  of  prgfgMwr  DOHiugvT  at  Uio  dtalb  uf  iLo  laU)  Eing  of  Duvaria. 


CRETK 


TraeeU  and  JUitvth^  in  Crtlt.     By  Capbua  T.  A.  B.  By»*TI,  BH„ 

C.B.,  F.R.8.     Tww  V^ltunM,  Svo.     London. 
Tntvelt  In  Crrtt-    By  Robbjit  Pisiilei',  E»y,      Twu  Vul«imf».    I/jndo!|. 

THERE  are  pro'bfil>ly  few  countries  in  Europe  t.Iiat  are  less  kiiowu. 
to  the  bulk  ijf  uur  readei's  tlian  the  lai^u  aaJ  iinpOTtaut  island 
of  Crete.  It  is,  we  believe,  one  of  tbe  id^esjlivs  of  many  continental 
]K)UliciaLi3  thut  its  possession  is  eagerly  coveted  by  Eiin;bsb  st-ates- 
inen,  and  is  one  of  tl;o3e  objects  of  ivliich  li  j^erjidf  ARwii  nevev  lu&es 
eight.  And  (t  was  in  accordance  ■with  this  view  that  its  acquisition 
■was  the  bait  held  onfc  to  our  Government  by  the  Entperor  Nicholas, 
in  his  memoralile  conversation  with  Sir  Hamilton  Seymour,  con- 
cerning the  division  of  the  spoils  of  "  the  sick  man."  But  no  hand 
wa-a  held  out  to  crnisp  at  tlid  tempting  nffer ;  and  since  that  period  oiir 
ccssjoii!  of  the  loninn  Islands  has  probably  done  soraethingto  convince 
even  foreign  statesmen  that  England  seeks  no  aggnmdlzement  in  the 
Mediterranean  at  least.  So  little  do  English  jioliticians  in  reality 
trouble  themselvea  about  tliia  supposed  object  of  their  ambition,  that 
■we  suspect  very  few  of  them  know  much  innre  about  the  island  than 
lis  geograjihical  situation,  and  tlie  old  legends  of  Minos  and  BiEdalua, 
that  rendered  it  famous  in  antiquity. 

The  fortune  of  the  island  has  indeed  been  singular.  It  may  safely 
lie  asserted  that  among  the  many  fair  and  fert.ile  lands  that  gii-dle  tbe 
eliores  of  the  Mediterranean  Sea,  there  are  few  more  fert.ile  or  more 
l)eavitiful  than  Crete.  In  the  enthusiastic  words  of  one  whn  saw  this 
"  superb  island,"  aa  he  justly  terms  it,  before  it  had  been  desolated  by 


55^  The  Contemporary  Revk'tv. 

ru{j«iit  eivTl  wilts,  "  Crete  is  indeed  the  garden  of  Greece,  and  wore 
it  thoi-ou^'hly  tivilizeJ  ruc!  cultivated,  M-oidd  jircKiuee  in  vast  altim- 
dsiuce  cons,  wine,  oil,  silk,  wool,  honey,  and  wax.  Tlie  land  is  sttickfil 
with  game,  the  sea  with  fine  Kah  ;  ftult  is  plentiful,  find  of  a  delicious 
flavi  air :  its  valleys  are  adoi'ued  with  a  vanety  of  flawers  and  nramalic 
shrubs,  and  with  groves  of  inyitle,  orpinge,  lemon,  pi:>niegniBate,  and 
alnntnd  trees,  ast  well  as  with  intemiinnble  foi'oata  of  olives.  The 
syuthum  coast  ts  destitute  of  ports,  and  lias  acarcely  any  safe  roaii- 
sti-'^ids  5  bat  on  the  northern  side  are  several  escellcDt  aud  cajjaciuus 
harlionrs."  Great  part  of  the  ialand,  it  is  true,  ia  occupied  liy  Infty 
ranges  and  masses  of  mountains,  that  rise  to  a  height  exeeediiii;  the 
most  elevated  of  those  nf  continentfil  Greece,  and  are,  even  iindui'  the 
tldrty-fiftli  parallel  of  latitude,  covered  with  snow  for  at  IcELSt  two- 
thirds  of  the  year.  But  Irorderinj,'  on,  ami  alternating  with,  these 
rugged  nimmtuin  tracts,  whit>li  abniiml  in  scener)"  of  the  most  pic- 
turesijue  and  varimd  cliiiracter.  are  valleys  and  plains  uf  surjiaasing 
richuess  and  heanty.  An  aid  Knglish  traveller  who  ^ited  the  isInTid 
ill  the  beginniny  of  the  seveuteeiitli  ceiiturj',  while  it  was  still  under 
the  Venetian  rule,  breaks  out  into  mptures.  eont«rniiig  the  plain  that 
surrounds  C'anea,  of  which  lie  says,  in  his  quaint  style,  that  "  it  may 
easily  be  sumaraed  the  garden  of  the  whfile  universe,  being  the  yood- 
licst  plot,  (he  dianiiiud  sjiurkj  and  tlie  honey  spot  of  all  Candy." 

Aji  island  )MW5ses3iiig  such  great  natnra!  advantages,  and  sitnateil  at 
the  very  entnmce  of  the  Archipelago,  as  it  were  a  stepping-stoue  fmiii 
Europe  both  to  Asia  and  Africa,  would  seeni  to  he  marked  out  by 
nntni'e  to  e.tertiise  a  conunanding  influence  over  the  whole  eastern 
Mediten-aneati.  Yet  it  is  certain  that  Crete  hns  never  played  a  \mi 
in  hiatory  comparable  to  that  uf  tl)e  neigldwnring  island  f)f  lihink-f, 
so  far  inferior  to  it  both  in  extent  and  [topiilntion.  Evon  in  ancienl 
tiinui5  we  bear  singularly  liLtte  abuut  it-,  its  tnnUtttms  of  mythical 
tiiiiea  were  iudeted  numerous ;  and  the  legends  of  Minos,  his  naval 
poM'er  and  hia  wise  legislatitpu,  would  seem  to  point  to  a  bygwiw 
peri'nl.  when  Cret^  held  a  imsitiuii  far  more  iniportant  in  relation  to 
tlie  Hellenic  world  than  at  any  subauquent  time.  But  all  suuh 
visions  of  departed  splendour  are  pectUiarly  un  trust  worthy,  and  the 
mythical  glories  of  Cretti  must,  we  fear^  be  consigned  to  the  snuiu 
Kmbiijof  Iiist-oric  doubt  with  those  of  Trtiy  or  the  "Seven-gated" 
Thelios.  A  more  substantial  source  of  pride  mtis  derii.'ed  from  the 
faut  that  thit>  Cretans  possessed,  even  in  historical  times,  laws  ami 
institutions  that  wer^  ranked  amougst  the  wises-t  in  C'it!»?ce,  and  wliicli 
iM'e  compared  both  by  Plato  and  iiristotb  with  those  of  Sjartfl- 
Accordiug  to  one  tradition,  indeed,  the  latttu-  bad  bven  in  givflt  part 
bori-owed  by  Lycurgns  from  the  legislation  ah^eady  exiatiiig  in  Crete. 

But  however  much  these  institutiona  may  have  contiibutod  to  tlio 


Crete.  553 

internal  tranquillity  and  prosperity  of  Crete,  they  did  notbing  to 
give  her  power  or  consideration  in  her  relations  witli  other  states.  No 
trace  can  be  found  of  aiiy  federal  organization  or  permanent  union 
among  the  different  cities  of  the  island,  obvious  as  the  formation  of 
some  such  union  would  appear  to  our  modem  ideas.  Every  city  had 
its  own  republican  government,  and  formed  alliances  or  waged  wars 
with  its  neighbours  at  its  own  free  will ;  and  the  few  incidental 
glimpses  we  obtain  of  Cretan  history  show  that  such  internal  wars 
were  of  common  occurrence.  Hence,  doubtless,  it  arose  that  an  island 
of  such  magnitude  and  importance,  whicli  seemed  calculated  by  its 
position,  as  Aristotle  himself  remarks,*  to  obtain  the  au])reme  com- 
mand of  the  Grecian  seas,  and  by  that  means  of  Greece  itself,  never 
plays  any  part  of  importance  in  Greek  history.  The  Cretans,  as  a 
people,  held  aloof  both  from  tlie  Persian  and  I*elopomiesian  wars  : 
they  had  no  share  in  the  dangers  or  tlie  glories  of  tlie  great  contest 
with  Xerxes ;  and  appear  to  have  looked  on  with  unconcern  at  the 
long-protracted  struggle  for  supremacy  between  Athens  and  Sparta : 
indeed,  their  name  occurs  only  incidentally  either  in  Thucydides 
or  Xenophon.  At  a  later  period  we  find  some  passing  notices  of 
Cretan  affairs  in  the  extant  fragments  of  I'olybius — notices  which 
all  point  to  the  same  state  of  tilings, — a  perpetual  succession  of  petty 
wars  among  the  cities  of  the  island,  aiising  from  tlie  same  jealousies 
and  ambition  of  supremacy  that  led  to  the  more  iiuportant  and  more 
celebrated  contests  of  their  continental  countrymen.  It  was  one  of 
these  disputes  which  first  gave  the  opportunity  for  the  intervention 
of  the  Romans  in  their  affairs,  which  ended,  as  usual,  by  tlie  complete 
subjugation  of  the  wliole  island.  Of  the  details  of  this  war  we  know 
almost  nothing,  and  we  can  only  infer  that  tlie  islanders  must  have 
opposed  an  obstinate  and  long-protracted  resistance  to  the  Eoman 
arms,  as  tlie  victorious  general,  a  member  of  the  proud  house  of  the 
Metelli,  already  ennobled  by  so  many  triumphs,  did  not  disdain  to 
assume  the  surname  of  Creticus,  in  commemomtion  of  his  conquest  of 
the  island. 

Throughout  this  period,  however,  while  the  Cretans,  as  a  people, 
took  no  part  in  the  wars  or  politics  of  the  rest  of  CJreece,  they  con- 
tinued to  fumisli,  like  the  Swiss  in  the  Middle  Ages,  uuml>ers  of  mer- 
cenary soldiers,  wliich  figui-e  in  almost  all  the  contests  of  the  conti- 
nental Greeks.  These  troops  were  doubtless  supplied  for  the  most 
part  from  the  moimtainous  districts  of  the  interior,  wliere  the  hardy 
and  lawless  race  of  the  Sfakiotes  still  retain  much  of  the  same 
characteristics  as  their  predecessors  of  old.  The  well-kuottTi  Scolion, 
or  drinking  song,  composed  by  the  Cretan  poet  Hybrias,  and  supposed 
to  represent  the  sentiments  of  one  of  these  ancient  soldiers  of  fortune, 

"Tolit.,  II.  7.2. 


554  ^*  Contemporary  Review. 

lu'witlies  a  spirit  that  Would  be  rtjuognised  aa  congenial  by  the  moim- 
taiii  freeljooters  of  the  present  day,  Aybethet  in  Crete  or  the  conti- 
nental districts  of  Greece  ; — "  My  wealth  ia  in  tiiy  sword  and  spear, 
and  the  fair  biitkler  that  protects  me  fVom  baTm.  With  these  I 
pluugh,  witli  tlieae  I  reap,  with  these  I  pi'iess  tlie  sweet  wine  from  the 
grape." 

But  it  Wag  not  oJi  the  sword  and  spear  that  the  Cretan  soldiers 
mainly  reliod  :  it  was  for  their  skill  in  the  use  of  the  bow  that  they 
wei-e  chiefly  renowned  in  antiquity,  and  Cretan  archers  are  continually 
found  Serving  as  mercenary  auxiliaries,  both  iu  the  Greek  and  Roman 
anuies.  So  diligently,  indeed,  did  they  continue  to  prsietise  the  use  of 
this  favourite  weapon,  and  so  long  did  they  retain  it,  liiat  even  under 
the  Venetian  Government  it  was  still  iu  general  use  among  the 
Kfakiao  mountaineei-s,  who  are  described  hy  Foat'arini,  aa  late  aa  1596, 
aa  always  eairj'ing  their  bow  and  quiver  of  arrows,  with  wldeh  tliey 
shot  '■  moat  exctdleutly  weUL" 

As  a  province  of  the  Roman  Empire,  Crete  disappears  altogelher 
from  history^  though  it  is  evident,  from  existhjg  rentnius  and  insc.rii>- 
tioiL?,  that  aome  of  its  towns,  at  least  must  have  enjoyed  a  consider- 
able amoimt  of  wealth  and  prosperity.  But  all  this,  doubtless,  came 
to  an  end  when,  in.  the  general  dissolution  of  the  empire,  the  pimtical 
invasions  of  the  barbarians  were  extended  to  the  sea  as  well  aa  tlie 
land.  Crete,  however,  continued  to  vegetate  as  a  proviBce  of  the 
Byzantine  En![iiire  nntd  the  ninth  centuiy,  when  it  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  Samcens  (about  a.d.  8ii0),  who  retained  iiossesaiou 
of  the  island  for  140  years,  till  it  was  again  wrested  from  tlseui 
by  the  Greek  Emperor,  Nicephorus  Phocas,  in  961.  In  the  liartition 
of  the  Eastern  Empire  hy  the  i'l-anks,  after  the  cnuqnest  of  Con- 
stantinople, Crete  appears  to  have  been  given  to  Boniface,  Duke  of 
MtmtfeiTut,  and  from  him  it  passed  by  purchase  to  the  Republic 
of  Venice,  in  1264. 

It  was  during  the  long  period  of  the  Vt>netiau  rule  in  the  island 
that  the  name  of  "  Condia,"  originally  apphod  to  the  capital  city,  and 
itself  a  con-uptton  of  the  Arabic  "  Khandax  "  (a  fortress  or  entrench- 
ment}, came  gradually  into  use  with  the  nations  of  Westeni  Europe 
as  the  name  of  the  wltole  islaiid  :  a  vul^'ar  appellation  which  still 
retains  its  place  in  maiiy  of  our  maps  and  houks  of  ge".>yi-aphy.  But  the 
ancient  appellation  of  Crete  is  the  only  one  that  has  ever  I?eeu  known 
in  tlie  island  itself,  and  hsis  jtlw«yg  coutinued  in  use  with  Turks  a3 
well  as  Greeks.  When  Mr.  Pushley  vbited  Crete  in  lHa4,  he  found 
that  even  the  highest  ecclesiastical  dignitariea  were  wholly  ignomnt 
of  the  name  of  Candia,  as  applied  to  the  is.land,  and  ohsen'es  that  in 
thia  sense  "it  has  never  been  pronounced  by  any  Cretan  utiactj^uRinleJ 
With  the  Itidian  language." 


Crete, 


555 


The  long  stnigyle  between  the  Veuetiaiis  auJ  tlie  Turks  for  the  pos- 
seasiou  of  this  Importaut  islanil,  So  essential  to  the  maintenmice  of  naval 
supremacy  in  the  Archijiehigo,  cubiiluiiting  at  Inst  in  the  cylebrateil 
aiej^e  of  the  city  of  Catidia  in  16(j7-G9,  ^avy  fov  a  time  an  Europenn 
teleTirity  to  its  name,  wliicb  ^adually  diefl  away  as  the  fslaud  sank 
iimler  the  lethargic  influence  of  the  Ottoman  despoti&m.  Crete  "vras 
doomed  to  exiterieiice  all  the  ev-ils  of  that  yoke  iii  tlieir  most  agj^i-a- 
Vfited  form,  and  became,  according  to  the  testimony  of  Mr.  Poshley, 
"  the  worat-governed  province  of  the  Turkish  empire  :"— 

"The  local  Quthorities  were  wholly  unabhi  to  control  the  UcencQ  of  the 
Juii£8Bnus,  who  coDsiEjttid  Bok'ly  uf  Cretan  Muliiniimi^iluns,  nud  niadi}  it  a 
^■pmnt  of  hflfiiuiir  iii'l,  tu  yutt'LT  any  one  of  thoir  number  tii  Iw  biimght  t«  jiis- 
^■lioe  for  any  ordimiry  uriiiie.  So  tnjinjilettily  did  every  piiaha,  appomtud  hy 
the  Suhlbuo  Porte,  dL'piijid  on  tlds  tiirbideut  mditin,  that  his  authority 
olwaya  ceased  ae  aooii  as  thuy  rcBiHted  it,  which  on  aavtiml  occaaiona  they  did, 
so  fiu  Ha  (iven  to  dcpoac  hini,  und  to  send  to  Ctmstimtiuople  in  urdur  tu 

»  obtain  the  cunfirniation  of  hia  Hucctasor'a  election,  aa  mailt;  by  theiiiBLdvoa. 
lu  uiie  (.ir  othor  nf  their  regimfuts  almost  ovory  Cmtun  Mohammedau  was 
eiiroltwl,  and  it  ia  easy  to  cimcv^ive  what  must  liave  Iwen  the  condition  of 
the  Christian  population.  Eesidos  thu  grinding  oppressicma  of  tho  regular 
avithnritie^,  and  of  the  (Ufferont  ooriia  of  Jauidaariee,  every  Greek  wna  also  at 
thei  nn:rcy  of  the  lowest  Mohuminodau  of  the  island,  who,  in  consbijuence  of 
tlie.  w^^aknt'a6  of  the  local  j/uvtmiiR'nt,  could  make  any  demand  and  perjie- 
trate  any  onorniity  with  <roiiipk'-te  Hecurity.  Tluia,  litemHy,  no  Christian 
was  niftSt&r  of  his  own  honsG  :  any  MBlwiiumednn  might  pass  hia  threshold, 

I  and  eithi-T  require  friim  liini  nmney,  or,  wliat  was  fiir  commou'er,  send  the 
Lusbiiud  i.>r  father  out  of  tbe  way,  on  some  mere  pretext,  and  himself 
romaiii  with  bis  wife  or  daughter.  So  atrooiuua  and  frerjuent  were  such 
acts  of  violence  and  oppression,  that  I  have  been  assured  by  persons  well 
acquaint-cd  with  Turkey,  and  certainly  favourably  disposed  to  the  Turks, 
that,  thij  hdrrors  and  atrocititps  which  wero  almost  of  daily  occuirenco  in 
Crete,  had  hardly  a  single  parallel  throughout  the  whole  extent  of  the  OttO' 
man  Empire." 


I 
I 


No  woBder  that,  iu  1821,  when  the  standard  of  liberty  was  raised 
O'Q  the  mainland  of  Greece,  the  Cretan  Greeks  enthusiastically  fol- 
lowed the  exanijde  of  their  brethren,  and  rose  in  revolt  against  their 
oppressors.  Though  opposed  not  only  to  the  Turkish  Pasha  and  the 
Mohammedan  population  of  the  island,  but  to  the  far  more  foniudahle 
power  of  Mehemet  .^Vli,  the  Viceroy  of  Egypt,  they  maintained  the.  con- 
test with  varinns  alternations  of  sncceaa,  and  wore  m  fact  masters  of 
the  greater  part  of  the  island,  when  tlie  decree  of  the  Allied  Powers, 
in  182!1,  while  it  cstahliaheil  the  liherty  of  the  cuntiuental  Greeks  and 
the  Lslauders  of  tbe  Cyelades,  handed  over  those  of  Cre.te  to  the  Egj'p- 
tian  Viceroy.  The  short  jieriod  of  his  rule,  though  in  some  respects 
more  enlightened,  was  certainly  not  less  tyrannical  than  had  been 
that  of  the  Porte,  The  promised  introduction  of  "  European  institu- 
tions" was  coniined  to  that  of  European  modes  of  taxation,  which. 


556  Tlie  Contemporary  Reviezv. 

grievously  increased  the  burdens  of  the  inhabitants,  without  giving 
them  in  return  any  of  those  advantages  which  the  people  ordi- 
narily receive  in  the  most  heavily  taxed  countries  of  Europe. 
Crete  had  certainly  little  to  lose,  by  the  exchange,  when,  after  the 
fall  of  Acre  and  the  overthrow  of  the  Egyptian  dominion  in  Syria, 
it  passed  once  more  (in  1841)  under  the  direct  dominion  of  the 
Sultan. 

Previously  to  the  publication  of  Captain  Spratt's  recent  researches, 
our  knowledge  of  Crete  was  almost  wholly  derived  from  the  elaborate 
work  of  Mr.  Pasliley,  wlio  ^'isited  the  island  in  1834,  and  in  the 
course  of  a  prolonged  tour  examined  almost  eveiy  part  of  it  He 
brought  to  the  exploration  of  its  ■  ancient  remains  the  resources  of  a 
profound  and  accurate  scholar,  as  well  as  a  conscientious  and  diligent 
observer,  while  his  remarkable  command  of  the  modem  lai^uage  and 
dialects  of  Greece  enabled  him  to  collect  much  interesting  informa- 
tion concerning  its  present  inhabitants  and  their  condition.  His  book 
has  consequently  ranked  ever  since  as  the  standard  authority  apon 
the  subject,  and  has  held  its  place  by  the  aide  of  those  of  Colonel 
Leake  on  continental  Greece,  and  of  Mr.  Wm.  Hamilton  on  Asia 
Minor.  Unfortunately,  for  some  reason  that  was  never  explained,  his 
travels  in  certain  portions  of  the  island  were  not  included  in  his  pub- 
lished work,  and  several  ancient  sites,  which  we  know  that  he  visited, 
were  left  undescribed.  Nor  have  the  gaps  thus  left  in  our  information 
been  filled  up  by  any  subsequent  traveller.  A  curious  contributioB 
to  our  knowledge  of  the  antiquities  of  the  island  was  indeed  published 
by  Mr.  Falkener  in  1854,  in  some  extracts  from  the  note-book  of 
Onorio  Belli,  a  Venetian  architect,  who  visited  the  island  in  1583,  and 
made  notes  and  plans  of  the  ruins  of  ancient  buildings  then  remain- 
ing, many  of  which  have  since  been  destroyed,  either  wholly  or  in  part. 
There  seems  every  reason  to  believe  in  the  trustworthiness  both  of 
his  plans  and  descriptions,  and  we  thus  obtain  from  this  interesting 
record  (which  is  still  preserved  in  MS.  in  the  Venetian  archives)  a 
curious  proof  how  many  ancient  edifices  survived  through  the  Middle 
Ages  to  perish  in  comparatively  recent  times. 

Captain  Spratt  has  undoubtedly  enjoyed  great  advantages  for  the 
completion  of  the  task  thus  left  unfinished.  During  the  course  of  the 
elaborate  survey  of  the  coasts  of  Crete,  on  which  he  was  engaged  for 
several  years  in  succession,  and  of  which  the  main  result  is  embodied 
in  the  beautiful  charts  of  the  island  that  form  part  of  the  noble  sur- 
vey of  the  Mediterranean  Sea,  executed  under  the  directions  of  the 
British  Admiralty,  he  was  not  only  rendered  familiar  with  every  point 
of  the  sea-coast,  hut  had  the  opportunity  of  making  many  tours 
through  the  interior  of  the  island,  and  visiting  every  locality  of 
interest  either  from  its  ancient  remains  or  physical  peculiarities.    Of 


Crete. 


557 


I 


the  merits  of  Captain  Spmtt  as  a  Itydrograplier  it  ia  impossiUe  to 
si»eak  tijn  liigbly;,  and  lie  Jifts  adtled  to  hia  claims  on  our  grntitude  nn 
tliis  accmint  Eiy  presenting  us  with  ii  freneral  (;eolo(,neiil  siu'vey  ul'  tlie 
island,  whiuh  derives  aiUUtional  interest  fi'om  tlie  resemblance  of  its 
leading  cliaracteristics  to  tliose  of  the  neijilibouring  re^^ion  of  Lycia, 
where  Cfiptnin  Spnttt  had  sei'ved  his  geological  appi-ontii-eahip  under 
the  guidance  of  that  liighly-gii'ted  naturaJiat  aiid  geologist,  the 
lamented  Eilward  Furl>es. 

Nnr  con  we  ton  much  eomuiijiid  the  diligence  and  euer^^y  with 
wliieh  Captain  Spriitt  sought  out  the  ancient  remains,  and  evidunoea 
of  ancient  sit^ss.  "Hith  a.  view  to  complete  or  correct  the  topogiujihical 
conclusions  nf  his  predeceaaore,  Unfortunntely,  souiething  nupre  than 
zeat  and  energj'  is  itiijuisite  in  order  to  niaJstJ  any  real  progress  in  the 
thorny  paths  of  ancient  topogi-apliy ;  and  Ca|)tain  Spratt  waa  alto- 
gether deficient  in  tlie  previous  training  requisite  to  enable  any  one 
to  tread  theii-  mazes  witli  security.  His  scholarship,  indeeil,  appeal's 
to  be  Confined,  so  far  as  "we  can  gather  from  the  volumes  before  us, 
to  a  diHgent  study  of  Pr,  Cramer's  well-known  book  on  the  Geo- 
graphy pf  jViicient  Greece, — a  iisefnl  compilation,  fis  evet^'  student 
knows,  though  in  niftny  parts  execute  m  a  hasty  and  perfunctory 
manner,  and  nowhere  inoro  so  than  in  this  lety  i>orticin  relating  to 
Ci'ete^  which  was  at  that  time  in  great  measurtj  unexplored  and  un- 
known. But  Captain  Spratt  seems  to  regard  the  work  of  the  Oxfonl 
Professor  with  soniethiiig'  of  the  same  reverence  tliat  we  have  known 
many  toin-ists  on  the  Continent  evince  for  their  "  Alumy," — as  an 
authority  not  t*i  be  questioned  or  disputed.  Hence  he  is  frequently 
disposed  to  ceusur^  ilr,  I'aghley  for  departing  from  the  views  of  I>r. 
Cramer,  even  in  ca^fcs  where  the  former,  having  visited  the  localities 
himself,  and  comimred  the  ancient  authorities  on  the  spot,  was  na- 
qTiestionahly  right,  and  T>t,  Cramer,  Arritiiii.'  without  adequate  infor- 
mation, as  unquestionably  wrong.  On  the  whole,  the  result  has  been, 
that  while  Captain  Sprott  has  furnished  us  with  valuable  athUlional 
materials  for  the  future  lalvjurs  of  scholars  and  topogrriphera,  iiia  oi\ti 
views  and  suggestions  have  done  little  or  nothiug  to  advance  our 
knowledge  of  the  aucteut  geography  of  Crete. 

Our  i-eadera  will  doubtless  gladly  excuse   us   from  entering  into 
these  disputed  questions,  the  more  so  as  the  remaiiis  ol  antiquity  still 
visible  in  the  island  are  of  a  kind  interesting  chiefly  to  the  anti- 
quarian or  topographer.     In  no  instance  are  there  any  monuments 
i-emaining  calculated  to  attract  general  admu-ation  by  tlieir  nrclutoc- 
tural  beauty,  ur  imposing  by  the  chai-acter  of  rude  but  juas.sive  gi-un- 
■     deur,  so  conspicuous  in  the  remains  of  Tiryns  and  Myccuie.     Two 
I    sites  only  may  claim  a  pissfting  notice,  I'l-om  their  c-onnection  with  the 
I    earliest  mythological  legends  of  the  island.    The  tomb  of  Zeus,  which 


558  The  Contemporary  Review. 

was  shown  by  the  "lying  Cretuns"  in  the  flourisliing  days  of  Grecian 
mythology,  to  the  greiib  iailignittion  of  the  piuus  Callimachiis,  19  still 
puiuteil  out  by  the  lutle  shepheixl  at  tlie  present  day  oa  the  suimutt 
of  Muimt  Juktas^  au  iaolateU  mouiitimi  that  rises  from  the  jjlaiii  a 
few  miles  south  of  the  city  of  Candia,  and  iu  full  view  of  the  harbour. 
The  locality  is  marl\eU  only  l>y  some  fii^ments  of  niicient  walla,  ^^( 
very  nide  and  massive  nias'jurj,  enclosing'  a  cave  of  simall  dimensions ; 
hut  it9  ideatit)"  seems  to  he  well  establUhed,  the  spot  having,  na  in 
many  similar  cases,  continued  to  he  the  gliject  of  superstitious  reve- 
rence long  after  the  introduction  nf  Ghvistianity. 

Another  site  that  has  l>een  visited  by  all  travellers  in  Crete  is  the 
famous  LahyTinth,  a  subterKinean  gallery,  or  rather  series  af  j^alleries, 
of  most  labyrinthine  sinuosity,  through  which  it  uuist  indeed  l»e  1111 
arduous  tnsk  to  trace  one's  way  -without  the  clue  of  Ariadne,  There 
is  no  d<.niljit  that  it  is  an  artificial  excavation.  Cnlouel  Leake  sup- 
posed it  to  be  11  catacomb,  Ijut  Captain  Spmtt  ia  probably  correct  in 
r^jarding  it  as  nothing  more  than  a  vaat  quarry,  exoavated  in  the 
wldtc  tertiaiy  limestone,  wliicli  fonns  an  excelleut  huddiug;  material, 
not  unlike  the  celebrated  Malta  atone,  and  evidently  the  same  wliich 
was  largely  employed  in  the  buihlings  of  the  nei^'hbouiing  cities  of 
Gottyna  and  Phaistos.  IJut  there  is  one  grave  diHiculty  in  the  ^\"ay 
of  identilying  this  supposed  labyrintSi  with  the  famous  work  of 
Da-dalna  and  the  abode  of  the  Minotaur.  All  the  legends  relating  tn 
the  latter  associate  it  with  the  city  of  Cnossus,  the  reputed  capitjd  ni 
Miuaa ;  and,  what  is  still  more  conclusive,  the  coins  uf  Cunssua  almu.sL 
all  hear  the  type  of  the  labyrinth  on  the  reverse,  as  the.  distinguishing 
emblem  of  their  city,  while  no  such  symbol  is  fuuud  on  those  of  (lor- 
tyna  or  any  other  city  of  Crete.  But  the  kibyriiith  now  extant  is 
situated  iu  the  immediate  neighboiirhoofl  of  CJort.yna,  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  island  fruui  Cnossus,  with  which  it  coidd  never  have  had 
any  connection  whatever.  There  can,  therefore,  lie  little  doubt  thai 
the  appellation  is  a  mere  misnomer  as  applied  to  the  [mrticular  quarry 
in  qneatioD,  though  it  is  not  improbable  that  some  excavation  uf  a 
similar  character  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Cnossus, — the  hiUa  around 
which  consist  of  the  same  soft  limestone,  anil  abound  in  natural 
cavenis  as  well  as  rock-hewn  sepulchres, — may  have  given  rise  to  the 
notion  of  the  fabulous  structure  so  celebrated  in  anlic|uity. 

We  ha^'e  already  mentioned  that  a  laTge  jiortion  of  the  island  ia 
occupied  by  mouutains.  A  glance  at  Captain  Spralt's  ittluiinible 
map  will  at  once  show  the  reader  that  these  do  not  form  a  con- 
tinuous chain,  as  they  are  rep;-esented  on  ordinary  maps,  but 
consist  of  several  detached  groups  or  masses,  separated  from  one 
another  by  intervening  tracts  of  plain  or  valley,  or  comi>anitii'ely 
low  hills  of  tertiary  fomi»tion.     The  most  westerly  of  these  groups 


I 


I 


I 


I 


tbe  ceutral  aummits  of  Mount  Ida,*  for  which  tliey  have  been  often 
mistaken  bj'  voyagt-rs  a3  they  appi-aacU  tlie  inland  from  the  coaat  of 
tlie  Morea.  Their  hi^liest  summits  are  covered  witli  snow  till  near 
midsuimjier;  beneath  the  auow-line  iippears  a  scanty  spTinklinfi;  of 
a  kind  of  cypress  (jirohably  the  Juaifcrua  caxclsa  of  Ijotaiiiata),  whCe 
the  extensive  paatm-tiB  and  brofid  upland  plateaux  that  border  their 
Hanks,  accessible  from  helow  (tnly  hy  abrupt  and  difficult  goi'ges,  ami 
ravines  easily  defended,  Iiave  been  the  abodu,  from  time  immemo- 
rial, of  a  race  of  hardy  mountaineers,  who  ha\(i  ret-ained  their  virtual 
independence  in  their  mountain  fastneaaea  tliroiigh  all  the  viciasitudea 
of  centuries.  Theae  Sfokian  liiglilanders,  if  they  be  not  the  linesil 
descendants  of  the  "  Eteucretes"  of  Hojuer,  ai*e  certiiiuly  in  one  sense 
their  modern  representatives.  They  are  "the  genuine  Cretanij,"  the 
Cretans  ^r  sjxvilence,  a  people  who  have  changed  so  little  fram  whitt 
lligiy  were  two  tliouaaud  yeara  ago,  that  tiie  scliolar  will  tind  in  their 
lial)!ts,  their  superstitions,  even  their  di-ess,  pei'petual  reminiscences  of 
chissical  times.  Their  character  and  peculiarities  are  well  desci'il>ed 
hy  Mr.  Pashley,  who  enjoyed  the  atlvautage  of  \"iaiting  their  villages, 
>rupanied  by  a  guide  who  was  himself  a  Sfakian  by  birth,  and 
issed  «ll  t!ie  characteristics  of  that  peculiar  ].>eople. 
Captain  Manias,  as  this  worthy  was  called,  may  be  reganled  as  one 
of  the  not-ahilities  of  Crete.  lie  had  taken  a  leading  part  in  the  war 
of  the  revolution,  in  wliicli  he  became  a  captain^  iiaving  a  considerable 
body  of  men  under  Uia  standard.  WHien  the  insurgents  were  for  a 
lime  cowed  into  subraiBsion  hy  Khuseiu  Bey,  he  armed  u  light  vessel, 
an^l  made  x>"^tical  descents  on  the  coast  of  Crete,  in  the  coairse  of 
which  lie  made  prisoners,  in  the  space  of  about  two  years,  no  less  thrtn 
sixty-four  Mohanunedaus,  whom  he  sold  aa  slaves  in  the  market  4)f 
the  iiKiyhbouriiig  island  of  KaSog,  "The  life  of  war,  mpine,  and 
bloodshed  which  he  had  led,"  adds  Mr,  Pashley, "  proved  of  the  highest 
MtilLty  to  me,  for  it  imd  niade  hhn  so  well  acquainted  with  eveiy  liUl 
and  dale,  path  and  river  in  the  ialaiid,  that  there  were  few  parts  of 

*  Captain  Spratt'i  itntcmcntii  on  this  subjiM't  are  singularly  vtgm  and  fluctuating  for 
one  who  luid  so  long  been  engaged  m  uii  (^lubomte  survev  of  ibe  i^lnnd,  Iti  hU  iiLnp.  na 
well  HI  on  5h«  oHginal  cliart  of  tlw  Aflmiralty  snrvej-,  ho  gives  th<j  heig-Li  of  Mount  Ida  om 
8,000  fc^t,  DD*!  ihat  of  tto  Ligheat  pisak  of  tin.-  IViite  Moimfnins.  lu  8,100  feet.  Yut  he 
iLitntL'lf  Btatt'8  that  Ida  rxeted*  the  laiter  hy  a  fnr/trt,  whila  in  the  artount  of  his  nsceliE  of 
Mount  Ida,  at  the  opt-ning  of  his  work,  he  sb.]*  that  its  Bummit  ia  -8, 200  ff.'i-t  flbiive  the  6<.-Q- 
level.  Apiin,  he  IcIIb  tia  ihAt  he  fuimd  by  ubstTVtttioti  the  ht-iglit  of  Agio  Pnouiua,  iba 
Oihly  one  or  the  pcitliH  of  the  White  MnnntninB  which  he  iisfieniled,  to  be  about  T-SDO  feet 
sbOTe  the  sea.  but  that  ihero  ■were  jieake  "a  few  bimilred  feet"  higher  to  the  wcbI.  Bui 
the  height  Aiaignt^d  tu  Agio  Pncunia-  ou  the  map  is  only  (,f>60  fvet.  Ih^in^  h  evirlentliy 
Btill  sn  opportunitj-  m  Cretu  for  an.  enterprising  member  of  the  Aljiine  Club,  with  a  good 
DiguiLCaiQ  baroniettT,  to  do  useiU  4erTit«. 


d 


560  The  Contemporary  Review, 

it  where  lie  would  not  Lave  proved  an  luiening  guide  evea  at  mid- 
night" In  other  teai>ect3  this  wild  warrior,  who  accompanied  Mr. 
Pashley  dnrin-i  the  yi.'wrtt-eT  imvt  of  liia  travels  in  the  isknJ.  jiroyed 
himself  Hot  ouly  nn  imaluabk'  guide,  hut  "  a  man  wiiu,  tliough  entirely 
destitute  of  education,  was  yet  possessed  of  extmordinaiy  abiliiiaa." 
We  may  add  that  he  snmved  his  travels  with  Mr-  Pasliley  niauy 
years,  aiid  accompanied  Captain  Spmtt  on  some  of  his  exctu'sions  in 
the  island,  hut  died  at  lerajietra,  while  aeting  as  pilot  tn  the  survey- 
ing shi]}  around  th«  eastern  coasts  of  tlie  islfiiid,  with  wliich  he  had 
becoiUK  fauiiliaT  during  his  piratical  cmiaes.  Captitin  Sprati  Ware 
emphatic  testiiiiony  to  his  noble  qualities  as  well  as  Lis  gi-eat  aliilities^ 
hut  pmtests  a;;niii[st  his  lieiiig  taken  for  the  tyjje  of  a  class. 

This  iiimai'kitlilt;  man  aeema,  iudewl,  to  have  lhe«n  tlie  very  ideal  of 
the  wild  and  lawless  but  nobk-hoarted  mountaineer,  such  as  Lord 
Eyron  would  have  loved  ti.i  draw.  "  He  wits  it  siheeiujou,"  bilvs  ('ii|)- 
taiu  Hpratt.  "  of  lion-liearted  patriotiRia,  coinUiued  with  luiul>Uke 
SentlenesH  in  all  the  common  interconise  of  life;  his  fonn  and  cai^nsti- 
tutinn  ivoie  heicidean ;  but  his  manner  was  faat'iuaLin*^,  iind  Ids  voic« 
he  coidd  nindidati;  U\  a  tout;  as  suFt  auj  pei'suasive  as  that  ul"  a 
maiden."  We  can  well  believe  that  such  romantic  hcTOes  as  tlua  am 
rarii  in  the  wild  mountains  of  8fflkia  as  well  as  anywliere  else. 

We  reyret  that  we  cannot  introduce;  Captain  Manias  to  our  readers 
as  he  is  presented  to  us  hy  Mr,  Pashley's  lu-tist^  in  fidl  Cretan  costume. 
A  spleuLlid  lij.'are  he  must  have  l>een,  and  fully  juatities  Cajitain 
Spratt'a  remarks  ou  the  picturestjue  eH'ect  of  tlie  Cretan  style  of  dress. 
The  great  peculiarity  of  this,  as  tlistinguished  from  that  of  other  GreekB^ 
consists  iu  the  high,  tight-fitting  hoots  of  leather,  geaorally  of  n  Imjwa 
or  red  colour,  sometunes  liriyht  scarlet,  aud  ofttin  highly  embroidered 
and  lacetl.  It  is  remarkable  that  these  high  boots,  by  which  the 
Cretan  is  at  once  recc^iTUsed  among  other  (.ireeks.  are  mitiet'd  by 
Cralen,*  iu  the  second  centurj'  ol'  the  Christiuu  em,  as  equally  cha- 
racteristic of  the  Cretans  in  his  day.  We  know  few  iustaiit*s  of  so 
lieiTuaneut  a  fasluDu  in  any  article  of  dress. 

Notwitbstaiiditiy  Lis  other  meritSj  Captain  Manias  would,  in  out 
respect,  have  pi-oved  but  an.  unsatisfactoiy  drat/pman  to  any  travelJer 
less  familiar  with  the  modern  Gie^k  diidects  than  Mr.  Pasidey.  He 
spoke  nothipg  hut  Ma  native  toiij^ue,  the  pceidiar  Sfakiau  lUalett. 
wliic-b  difters  so  much,  not  only  frt»m  ordinary  modern  CJivek,  but  even 
from  that  spoken  iu  other  jiarts  of  Crete,  as  to  be  at  first  with  ditticidty 
intelligible,  even  to  one  familiar  mth  the  latter.  Mr.  l'ns]iley  has,  in 
consequence,  preserved  to  us  .^ome  interesting  specimens  of  this  prijui- 
tive  dialect,  in  two  or  tlii'ee  sonj^s  which  he  ttiok  doAi^n  frum  the  mouth 
of  his  guide,  aud  a  curious  story  of  a  vampii-e,  which  he  heard  from  the 
•  Citod  Ihj  raeUej,  Tgl.  ii.,  i'.  2JJ. 


Crete. 


561 


I 


I 
I 

I 
I 


peasant*  at  AnoiffjLis.  Aa  might  be  expected  from  their  seclmled 
positiiin,  the  Slakians  have  preseiT&l  in  their  dialect  manj*  Hellemc 
iinJ  old  Di^rlc  words  sis  well  as  tlji'ma,  which  had  been  ■wholly  lost  in 
the  venia<!ulaT  Romaic.  Tlie  preaenation  uf  all  siith  dialectic  itMiiains 
of  the  ancient  Innguage  ia  nn  ohject  of  the  highest  interest  to  the  philo- 
logist, anil  L'iiptiiin  Spratt  has  "rendtTeLt  «  real  aenice  to  that  science 
by  inserting  iu  thu  A]jpeudix  to  his  fii'st  volume  a  vocabulary  of 
Cretan  Gretk,  compned  hy  a  il.  Khurmuzj,  a  native  of  the  island,  with 
the  vahiaMe  addition  of  a  dissertittion  on  tlie  relations  of  Creton  and 
modern  Greek  hy  tha.t  accomplished  piiilolo^rist,  A'lscouut  Strau^foi'd. 
We  cannot  bnt  concur  with  the  latter  in  his  expression  of  regret  that 
the  rapid  extension  oi'  the  ninderu  Greek  educational  system— merit- 
orious as.  it  is  in  mauy  reapects^ — should  have  the  effect  of  disj-dacing, 
— na  it  is  mpidly  doinp  even  in  C'i'ete.with  the  exception  of  the  moimtain 
districts, — ail  traces  uf  the  popular  dinlect,  tlius  "  dieplacing  a  form  of 
9i>eech  which  might  have  been  madt  to  bear  the  same  relation  to 
clasBical  Greek  that  Italian  bears  to  Ijitin,  and  substituting  in  its 
stead  a  strange  lan^iage,  now  ijerhajjs  uuavoidaljlo  and  past  remedy, 
in  which  a  revived  or  factitiouB  ancient  vocabulary  ia  galvanized, 
rather  than  animated,  hy  the  Idioin  of  modem  French  tiewspapei-s." 

The  White  Mountains,  bs  well  as  the  snmuiits  of  iSfount  Idst,  are 
still  fietpiented  by  the  ibex,  or  wild  ^mat,  for  which  the  island  was 
colebrated  in  ancient  times,  and  the  figure  of  which  is  found  as  a 
characteristic  symbol  on  the  coins  of  several  of  iU  cities*  IJut  the 
iiiouutain  shejdierda,  in  these  regions,  have  no  occasion  to  guard  tlieir 
flocks  trom  the  attacks  of  wolves,  so  numerous  and  destructive  on  the 
mainland  of  lirecce,  no  beast  of  prey  more  foinndable  than  a  fox  or 
a  Imdger  Iceing  found  iu  tJie  is-land.  Crete  also  enjoys  the  same  immu- 
nity as  many  other  tarfj;©  islands  from  the  presence  of  3nake3  or  other 
■ffenonions  reptiles.  This  pi-ivilo-ge,  which  was  granted  to  Ix-elsmd  by 
St.  Patrick,  and  t(»  Malta  by  St.  Panl,  ia  Mcribed  in  Crete  to  the 
favour  of  Titus,  the  cotsiTifliiion  of  St.  Paul,  who,  accotding^  to  their 
eccle«i»5tic'^at  tfadibions,  was  the  firat  archbishop  of  the  island,  and 
continuwd  \Xi  be  venerated  as  its  patron  aaint,  until,  under  the  Venetian 
rule,  his  place  was  in  some  degree  nsurped  Ijy  St.  Mark.  St  Tttiia 
iis,  hower\-CT.  still  looked  up  to  as  their  especial  patron  by  all  the 
Christian  inlifibitanta  of  Crete. 

The  mountain  group  of  Ida  occupies  a,q  nejtrly  as  possible  the  centre 
of  the  island,  and  though  not  nearly  so  extensive  as  thitt  of  the  White 
Mountains,  is  more  iniiwising,  from  it^  more  detached  and  commanding' 
position.     It  is  now  known  as  P&iloriti,  or  Ypsiloriti  (Ti^ijXopefTiov,  a 

•  A  tongidu-nible  tenj  of  them  vras  sotii  by  Captnin  Sprott  liuring  lik  asuuiit  of 
JUoiint  Lin;  tLittn'LtLslaiidLii^  wliii^h^  Lu  tUcn-LLTo  tells  uh  tbal  diey  are  eiehiwtly  iviifinnd 
lo  the  "WTiitc  Mountnms. 


562 


The  Conitmp&raiy  Review. 


curinus  kind  of  diminutive  of  Gi^riXov  OjOOCt  Otf  high  inf>untain  far 
txixUtnc/),  hut  the  ancient  name  is  Btill  jireaen-ed  in  tltat  of  Kidn, 
jiiven  tn  an  extensive  njiland  basin  about  2,500  feet  below  tlie  lii^Iii^sl 
finiDTnit,  aftbnUjig  a  convenient  lialting-place  for  the  traveller  who 
ascends  the  mountain.  The  roots  and  branchee  of  Mount  Ida  extend 
down  to  the  sea,  both  on  the  nnilLi  and  south  coasta.  thus,  fonninp  a 
natural  harrier  acmss  the  island.  East  of  tliis  is  a  broad  tract  of  hilly 
— but  not  mountainous — country,  comprising  some  of  the  finest  and 
most  fertile  I'ortious  of  Crete.  It  is  here  that  were  situated  in  ancient 
times  the  tM'o  rival  cities  nf  Cnosaua  and  Gortyna, — the  one  within  a 
few  miles  of  the  northern  coast,  the  otlier  on  the  southern  slojw  of  the 
hills.  Here  also  is  jplaced,  immediately  on  the  sea-coast,  a  few  milt« 
from  the  site  of  Cuoeexis.  the  nindeni  city  of  Candia,  or  as  it  is 
caUed  hy  the  Greek?,  Megftlo  Kastroa,  so  long  the  capital  of  the 
island  under  the  Venetians,  and  still  the  largest  aJid  most.  pojiuJous 
tflwn  in  the  island,  tliouf^h  the  dignity  of  the  capital  lias  been  trans- 
ferred by  the  Turks  to  t'anea,  or  Kbania,  which  occupies  the  site  of 
the  ancient  Oydonia,  about  seventy  miles  farther  to  the  west. 

The  eastern  hitlf  of  the  island,  east  of  Mount  Ida,  is  agiiin  Woken 
into  two  portions,  united  by  a  kind  of  isthmus  of  low  land,  not  ex- 
ceeding eight  miles  in  breadth ;  and  each  of  these  is  ac,'ain  marked 
by  a  group  of  mountains  of  cousideralile  elevation,  which  send  down 
their  offslifKOts  and  bi-anches  on  all  sides  to  the  sea,  forming  IhiIJ  a»d 
rugged  headlands,  alternating  witli  deep  bays  and  occasional  tracts  of 
a  softer  and  richer  character. 

It  is  this  peculiar  conformation  of  Crete — its  long  and  nairow  form, 
broken  into  various  pfirtions  which  !*eem  to  hang  h'osety  together,  and 
traversed  in  all  directions  by  mouutflin  rangeiS  and  ridges,  sometiiuea 
descending  abmptly  to  the  sea,  sometimes  leiwing  a  bniad  margin  of 
fertile  jilain  or  rich  valley — that  undouiitedly  cfmtiil»utcd  in  otiotent 
times  to  perpetuate  its  divided  condition,  and  confinn  that  strong 
municipal  spirit  of  self-government,  which  was  one  of  the  leading 
characteristics  of  the  Greek  mind.  Doubtless  the  "Imndrfed  citieii"  of 
the  island  in  the  heroic  age?,  or  even  tlie  ninety  to  whicli  they  are 
reduced  by  Homer  in  another  passage,  were  a  mere  poetical  or  popular 
es^feration.  But  the  number  of  so-caUerl  "  cities," — that  is  to  say,  in 
the  Greek  acceptation  of  the  word,  towns  forming  independent  com- 
inunitiea,  and  enjoying  full  rights  of  self-government, — must  have  been 
strikingly  great.  AA'ithout  attempting  to  enmuerate  the  list  of  nami^a 
collected  by  Stephamia  of  Byzantiimi,  as  well  as  by  Pliny,  l*t*ileuiy, 
and  other  authors,  many  of  wMch  are  obscure  or  uncertain, 'the  num- 
ber of  cities  of  which  authentic  and  autonomous  coins  have  been 
preserved  to  us  is  not  less  than  thirty-six ;  and  though  some  of  these 
may,  for  aught  we  know  to  the  contrary,  have  been  no  larger  than  the 


Crete. 


563 


republics  of  Gersau  or  San  Mftriiio,  many  of  them  are  sufficiently 
proved,  "by  tlie  niuiiber  and  variety  and  the  artistlo  execiitiua  of  tlieir 
coins,  fis  well  as  in  some  cases  by  the  extent  nnil  character  of  thciir 
remiiius,  tu  La'^e  Ijeen  plarea  of  ivettltli  and  imi>ortance.  We  have 
already  mentiimed  that  there  are  no  temples  or  other  ruins  still 
i-enmiuing  ill  Crete  that  huve  retailed  enough  of  their  architectural 
character  to  be  striking  to  the  uninitiated;  but  in  many  cases  the 
remains  of  theatres  and  other  public  edificea,  with  numerous  shattered 
fohimns  of  marhle  and  of  granite— the  last  of  which  must  ■uniiiniation- 
flbly  have  been  brouj.dit  from  li4J}l>t, — sufficiently  attest  the  iiiicient 

■  opulence  of  the  cities  that  once  occupied  th&se  now-deserted  sites.  In 
other  instances,  on  the  cnntmry.  there  ore  found  nothiug  but  fonndatious 
of  a  very  masaive  cbnratter,  often  of  the  polygonal,  or  ao-caJled  cyclo- 
pean  style  of  -masonry,  without  any  indications  of  the  site  having  been 
inhabited  at  any  subsequent  period.  One  of  the  moat  remarkable  of 
these  appeal's  to  be  the  site  discovered  by  Cajitain  Spratt,  on  the 
slopes  of  the  Lasethe  Mountains,  and  ideotiJied  by  him  (on  very  qnea- 
tiomible  grnimds)  -with  that  of  the  ancient  Olus.  ISut  the  correct  attri- 
but  ion  of  such  ruins,  where  ueither  coins  nur  inscriptions  are  discovered 
on  the  spot,  HUiat  be  always  a  matter  of  much  uncertainty. 

It  19  curious  to  compare  these  evidences  of  the  ancient  popu- 
lousness  of  the  island  with  its  present  condition.  At  tlie  present 
day  there  are  only  tkrte  towns  on  the  north  coast  of  the  island, — the 
two  already  mentioned,  Candia  and  Cfinea,  both  of  which  were  for- 
tified and  rebuilt  by  the  Venetians,  and  the  third,  Ketinio,  inter- 
mediate between  them,  and  the  least  considerable  of  the  three.  On 
the  south  coast,  the  only  place  that  can  be  called  a  town  is  lerapetra, 
which  is  jiroudly  termed  by  Captain  Spratt,  "the  fourtli  city  of  the 

■  island,"  tbou*^h  lie  lumaeli"  adds  that  it  is  a  poor,  miserable  place,  with 
about  2,000  fever-stricken  inliabitants.  The  ancient  Hierapj'tna,  of 
which  it  occupies  the  site  and  preserves  the  name,  still  exhibittsit  in 
the  sixteenth  century  (when  it  was  visited  by  Ouorio  Belli),  the 
remains  of  a  nanmachia,  an  amphitheatre,  and  two  theatres,  besides 
temples,  thernite,  and  aqueducts. 

All  estimates  of  the  modern  population  of  Crete  must  necessarily 
be  extremely  vague.  Mr.  I'aahley,  who  aeems  to  have  taken  great 
pains  to  obtain  such  information  as  was  accessible,  estimated  the 
inhal«tants  of  the  island  in  1834  at  about  130,000;  Captain  Sprntt 
computes  them  at  the  present  day  at  210,000,  but  his  data  for  tlie 
calculation  are,  even  on  his  own  showing,  of  the  most  uncertain  cha- 
racter. According  to  the  information  collected  by  Mr.  Pashley,  the 
population,  previously  to  the  outbreak  of  the  revolution,  had  amounted 
t-o  not  leas  than  260,000  souls,  so  that  the  few  years  of  the  civil  war 
had  reduced  the  inhabitunts  to  only  about  half  their  former  numbei-s! 


564  '^^^^  ConUmpoi'ary  Review. 

Kor  must  tliis  estimate  be  taken  ns  proving  nny  remiu-kftble  pros- 
perity at  the  former  period;  from  official  i^ei-wrts fomid in  theVetieliaii 
archives,  it  ap|.>efti's,  tliat  althungli  the  inhnliitants  of  Crete  had  at  one 
period  of  the  sixteenth  century  been  reiluced  as  low  aa  250.000, 
this  "waa  regarded  as  a  proof  of  the  great  depopulation  of  the 
island,  in  eijnsei[uence  of  the  tyranny  and  opprcs3iL>n  of  its  local 
yuA'emors.  Whatever  may  liave  l>eeu  the  case  in  aut'ient  times,  it  is 
certain  that  Crete  might,  at  the  present  day,  veiy  well  snstain  a  popu- 
lation of  five  or  six  hundred  thousand  souls. 

Captjiin  S|>rBtt'.s  volumes  throw  hnt  little  light  niKin  the  present 
coniULion  of  the  island  mider  its  Turkish  nilers — a  subject  upon  which 
we  should  have  gladly  obtained  some  further  information.  He  tt^Ils 
us,  iudeed,  vaguely,  "  that  on  the  whole  there  aro  few  peojde  in  th« 
Levant  at  the  present  time  more  free  and  independent,  or  leas  taxed 
and  oppressed,  than  the  Greek  community  of  Crete;"  and  if  any 
dependence  can  be  placed  npon  the  esthnated  increase  in  the  numbere 
of  the  popukti<jii,  it  is  evident  that  there  must  have  been  coosidemhlB* 
pro^rress.  But  it  ia  certain  that  at  tlie  time  when  he  was  in  the  islantl, 
the  twenty-tive  years  which  had  elapsed  since  the  civd  war  had  as  yet 
but  very  imperfectly  repaired  the  damage  done  by  those  long  years  of 
rapine  ami  bloodshed.  Upon  this  point  (Japtaiii  y|>ratt's  testimony  w 
distinct  and  explicit.  Even  in  the  rich  plain  of  Khaoia,  in  the  imiue- 
tliate  vitiinity  of  the  piesent  capital,  lie  tells  us  that  when  onoe  the 
traveller  penetrates  the  yrove  of  olivfta  that  covers  the  whole  m 
ffeen  from  a  distance,  "  the  heai-t  M'ill  soon  grow  sad  at  the  numerous 
mai'ks  of  devastation  and  ruin  wbkh  every\vhere  meet  him.  Half 
populated  \illagea,  partially  restored  faxnis  and  tlM'tdlings,  Euid  the 
smoke-MaL-k  windows  and  totteriuy  walla  of  qtliers  in  ruin,  tell  of  the 
misery  which  liaa  stalked  tlirongb  this  fair  laud,  the  result  of  a  merci- 
less war  nf  extemaination  between  the  two  races  and  religions  who 
pogsesa  it." — (A''o!.  ii.,  p.  162.)  A  little  farther  on  be  udds;  "From 
what  I  have  stated  of  the  devastation  and  ruin,  atill  so  evident  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  present  capital  of  the  island,  and  upon  one  of  its  most 
fertile  fliiots,  an  idea  can  be  formed  of  what  exists  in  all  the  low 
country  of  Crete.  Euin  nieeta  the  tmveller  in  every  village;  the  result 
of  a  devastating  war  lies  impressed  upon  the  face  of  the  land,  and 
upon  many  a  coimtenance,  stiU;  and  a  BoiTowful  tale  ia  ever  ready  far 
the  ear." 

Tlie  mode  in  wliich  the  war  was  curried  on  was  indeed  one  of 
which  the  traeea  were  not  likely  aoou  to  be  eftkced.  Startling  as  is 
Mr.  Vashley'a  estimate  that  the  popidatiou  was  diminished  by  one- 
half  in  consequence  of  the  war,- — including,  it  must  be  rcniembere*!,  a 
very  large  emigi-ation  of  the  Greek  population  that  took  .place  when 
they  found  themselves,  after  all  theii"  ettbita,  placed  once  more  uudei* 


I 

I 

I 

I 

whe 
m  brot 
Btod 


I 

I 
I 


a  Mussulman,  yoke.^tliii  <letails  -wliiiili  lie  coUected  in  liis  rambles 
tluroiigh  the  isltuifl,  wliile  tht  lueiiiory  of  these  eveuta  was  still  fresh 
in  peojile's  luinds,  are  suuh  as  tu  T'emler  ft  not  improLable.  A  few 
instancea  will  suffice.  Tlie  village  of  Episktipe  at  the  time  of  iiia 
visit,  he  tells  ua,  consisted  of  iilnjut  sixty  dwelliugsi  it  hiul  contiiLQeil 
nearly  three  hundi-ed  at  the  outbreak  of  the  revolution,  thirteen  years 
before.  At  I'egli^,  a  village  where  about  one  hundibd  and  sixty 
Greeks  paid  the  poll-tax  before  the  revohition,  the  number  of  inhabited 
houses  did  not  exceed  I'orty.  Melidhoni  Ijel'ore  the  Greek  revolution 
coutained  one  hundred  and  forty  Christian  and  ten  Mohammedan 
faiuibes, — about  four  times  its  population  in  1834,  In  the  plain  of 
Mesani,  one  of  the  most  fertile  districts  af  the  island,  "the  villayies 
Bufiei'ed  neatly  during  the  war.  There  were  here  no  lofty  and  almost 
inatxieasible  uiountatua  to  flee  to  as  a  place  of  refuge.  lu  most  of  the 
\"illaf;es,  fuE  three-fourths  of  the  houses  aie  in  ruins.  One  whieh 
formerly  coutained  twenty  houses  has  now  only  two."  "'A  single 
day,'  observed  Captain  Mamas,  "suflicea  for  clearing  a  plain.'"  In^li- 
vidua!  instances  told  the  same  tale.  At  tlie  village  of  Arkhanea, 
■where  Mr.  I'asldey  ludged,  his  host  had  lost  liia  father  aud  three 
brothers;  his  wife's  father  and  one  of  her  brothers  had  also  been  put 

death  by  the  Mohannnedaiis,  and  the  poor  woman  hei-self  died  of 
t  but  the  moat  striking  case  of  all  is  that  of  the  fusnily  of  tlic 
Kurmulidhes,  one  of  the  most  illustrioua  in  the  island,  who  took  an 
active  jmrt  in  the  contest:  out  of  siity-four  men  of  the  family,  two 
only  aur\'ived  the  iimnlerous  war. 

It  must  in  fairness  be  added  that  the  sufferings  and  losses  of  the 
fonttsst  were  as  severely  felt  by  the  Mobaiuiuedan  inhabitants  of  the 
i$laud  aa  by  the  Greeks  ;  indeed,  if  we  Are  to  judge  from  the  geuend 
result,  they  woidd  appear  to  have  fallen  upon  them  even  more  heavily 
than  ujion  the  Chriatiaiia.  According  to  Mr.  Faahley's  calculation,  at 
the  time  of  the  outbreak  of  the  war  in  1821,  about  half  the  poptda- 
tion  of  the  island  consiated  of  Slohnmmedana.  Captain  Spratt  esti- 
mates them,  at  the  jjreseut  day,  ^^  "ot  more  than  oiie'third,  and 
attests  the  fact  that  hei-^,  as  in  most  other  parts  of  tlie  Ottoman 
dominions,  the  nundjer  of  the  Christiana  is  steadily  increasing,  and 
that  of  the  Mohammedans  gradually  diminislung.  A  very  small 
part  of  the  latter  are  Turks ;  by  far  the  largest  proportion  are  of 
genuine  Cretan  race,  whose  forefathers  were  induced  to  abandon 
their  creed  and  adopt  that  of  Istamiam,  tempted  by  the  worldly 
advantages  held  out  to  such  apostasy  wlien  the  island  was  wrested 
by  the  Turks  from  the  Veiietiana.  In  many  instances  the  chauge 
vraa  at  tirst  merely  externa!,  and  some  familie.s,  especially  that  of  the 
Kurmulidhes,  ulroady  noticed,  are  .snid  to  have  coutitmed  to  profess 
Christianity  in  secret,  and  even  to  baptize  their  childrea  aa  well  aa 

vai*  L  a  r 


ill 


566  The  Conlcmporary  Review. 

cmjumcise  lliem,  from  tUe  period  of  the  Turkish  conquest  tiU  the 
outbi-eak  of  tlie  ttreek  revohition.  Aa  a  general  mle,  the  new 
cuuvt'rls  did  not  change  their  langUiige  with  their  creed,  and  hetic*? 
Greek  has  continued  to  the  ju'esent  day  to  b<i  the  Tuii\'eT9al  laiijfiiagu 
of  the  island.  lu  other  respect^,  also,  there  la  little  <Ufterence  between 
the  Cretan  Greeks  and  theiv  Mohammedan  compatriots,  tlieir  couuaon 
descent  find  iise  of  a  cotumoti  lanffuage  giving  rise  to  a  freedom  of 
Social  idtercomB^  l>etweeu  the  two,  greater  thau  in  any  other  part  of 
the  Turkish  Empire.  Even  iiitermarriages  Imt-weeu  jiersons  of  different 
i-eligions  are  not  uncommon.  "The  Cretans  of  Iwth  creeds,  to»5,  dre^ 
BO  much  alike,  that  the  distinction  is  often  not  recognised  by  resi- 
dents of  long  staiidini;,  or  hy  Greeks  from  the  neighbouring  islands." 

Under  tliese  circumstances,  the  period  of  tranquilUty  tlint  suc- 
ceeded the  restoration  of  the  Turkish  power  had,  it  is  said,  ahvndy 
done  much  to  soften  away  the  nmtual  antipathies  between  the 
adherents  of  the  two  creeds;  but  this  proicess  of  amalgamation  was  in 
great  measure  int«mipted  hy  the  revohittontiry  doniuustratioTi  of  the 
Greeks  of  the  island  in  1800, — a  movement  wliieh  on;j;iuateti  with 
the  wild  Sfakiau  triliea  of  tlie  mountains,  and  is  representeil  by 
Ca[Jtain  Sjiratt  aa  altogether  unjiistifiahle  and  without  escaise.  It 
was  at  all  events  ill-timed  and  ill-adviBed,  aud  like  all  premature 
attempts  at  re\'olution,  tended  to  retard  the  very  cause  it  was  meant 
to  julvance.  But  we  cnnnot  wonder  that  this  "mistaken  and  mis- 
guided patriutiam,"  as  it  is  tei-med  by  Captain  Spratt,  slioidd  be  ever 
ready  to  blEi^e  up  afresh  in  the  heart-s  of  the  Cretan  Gi«eka  It 
"Would  be  difficult  to  conceive  a  more  trnng  position  than  tliat  in 
which  they  were  plac^il  by  the  result  of  the  civil  war.  Their 
struggles  for  independence  and  fi'eedom  had  certainly  not  been  Itss 
resolute  or  leas  jjersevering  than  those  of  their  neighbours  on  tlie 
mainlajid  of  Greece,  nor  liad  the  war  been  stained  hy  fewer  of  thosu 
atrocities  that  leave  a  feeling  of  m\itual  exfisperation  which  genera- 
tion* ^^'\}l  hardly  efface.  Cnisbed  for  a  time  by  the  overwhylmiiig^ 
power  of  Mehemet  Ali,  they  rose  tigain  more  fiercely  tiiau  before, 
ftfter  the  battle  of  Kavaruio  had  given  a  elieek  to  liis  progress,  and 
drove  the  Mussulman  troops  before  them.  "The  Chrt&tJ»us  rea])*-!! 
the  han'ests  of  1828  and  1329  unmolested  by  the  Muhatniuedaps, 
who  were  again:  coojHid  uji  within  the  'walls  of  the  fortified  towns,  aaid 
would  soon,  in  all  pT<^babilit\',  either  have  Rhondoned  the  island,  nr 
perished  in  it,  had  not  the  three  Allied  Pnwers  decitled  that  Crete 
shoidd  be  imited  to  the  Government  of  Mehemet  Ali,  and  notified 
their  decree  to  the  Christian  populiLliun."*  Tims  did  the  Cretan 
Greeks  see  themselves,  at  the  veiy  time  when  they  were  looking  fonrunl 
with  confidence  to  the  triumpli  of  their  cause,  handed  over  oncie  more 
•  PuUcy,  vol.  ii.,  Introd.,  p.  xxiii. 


Crete.  '        5^7 

to  the  liatetl  yoke  of  a  Mohammedan  governor,  supported  by  a  power 
which  it  was  idle  to  think  of  resisting.  That  they  should  submit  was 
a  necessity;  but  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  they -should  rest 
contented.  ' 

It  is  true  that  the  Turkish  Government  ia  not  what  it  was  before 
the  revolutionary  war.  The  Janissaries  have  disappeared ;  the  irre- 
gular, vexatious  oppression  of  their  petty  tyrants  is  more  or  less 
effectually  controlled;  their  taxation  may  be  light:  but  the  longicg 
for  independence  and  self-government  remains  unsatisfied,  and  is 
fostered  by  the  circumstance  that  the  Cretan  Greeks  see  their  fellow- 
countr)Tnen,  almost  within  sight  of  their  shores,  enjoying  that  freedom 
for  which  they  themselves  fought  so  long  without  success.  The 
Venetians  are  not  more  likely  to  acquiesce  in  the  Austrian  domina- 
tion, now  that  the  rest  of  Italy  is  free ;  nor  can  we  expect  the  Greeks 
of  Crete  to  submit  patiently  to  the  Turkish  yoke,  while  they  know 
that  the  islanders  of  the  Cyclades  have  established  tlieir  independence. 
It  is  vain  to  advise  them  to  acquiesce  patiently  in  the  present  state 
of  things,  and  devote  themselves  to  the  advancement  of  their  material 
prosperity.  Under  such  circumstances  the  yoke  of  "the  detested 
foreigner"  weighs  like  an  incubus  upon  the  energies  and  spirit  of  a 
people ;  and  even  if  its  oppression  were  altogether  as  visionarj-,  they 
cannot  breathe  freely  till  they  liave  shaken  it  off.  To  the  strength 
and  universality  of  this  feeling  in  the  Greek  population  of  the  island, 
Captain  Spratt  is  an  unexceptionable  witness ;  the  more  so  because 
he  seems  to  look  upon  all  such  aspirations  with  unfavourable  eyes, 
and  is  clearly  of  opinion  that  their  wisest  course  would  be  to  bide 
their  time  in  patience.  "  The  one  strong  feeling,"  he  t«lls  us,  "  which 
ever  rankles  in  the  heart  of  a  Cretan  Greek  is  the  hope  that  they  will 
one  day  be  freed  from  the  government  of  their  present  masters." 
That  day  may  be  more  or  less  distant;  but  we  feel  confident  that  it 
can  hardly  be  very  far  removed.  Tlie  separation  of  Crete  from  the 
other  islands  of  the  Archipelago  at  the  time  of  tlie  settlement  of  the 
Greek  kingdom  was  one  of  those  arbitrary  acts,  dictated  by  a  tempo- 
rary policy,  that  can  only  be  defended  on  the  score  of  the  expediency 
of  the  moment.  That  policy  has  passed  away;  for  it  must  be  re- 
membered tliat  Crete  was  theu  assigned,  not  to  the  Porte,  but  to  the 
Viceroy  of  Egypt,  whom  it  was  theu  thought  desirable  to  uphold,  but 
it  was  soon  found  necessary  to  humble.  The  reunion  of  Crete  with 
the  Morea  and  the  islands  of  the  Cyclades — the  countries  with  which 
it  has  the  closest  geographical  connection,  as  well  as  the  most  active 
relations — is  one  of  those  measures  which  cannot  l)e  long  delayed, 
now  that  the  English  have  set  the  example  by  yielding  to  the  popidar 
feeling  in  the  case  of  the  Ionian  Islands. 

E.  H.  BUNBURY. 


JUrrctortutn  Ptulvniii^.  Thf  Prinriyla  iii*'t  PrnHii-e  f}f  Ffuivrai  R"i^l 
111  Iht  Chiirdi  of  Etiilland  Sj  tint  KeV.  Jfiax  USHRV  BlvXT 
JJeCAUj  EdlUvU.     Londua;   RtdnaUink.     IRdS. 

n^ITT.  Tansli  Priest  lias  to  fulfil  si  variety  of  diitiies  which  require 
J-  ill  liiiu  a  correspaitdiii^'  diversity  of  attainmenta.  Supposing  tliU 
iill- important  conditions  to  be  fulfilled,  tliat  he  is  sincere  and  coa- 
acieiitious,  that  lie  sets  forth  his  doctrine  in  his  h'fc,  tind  that  const'- 
qiiently  he  is  a  Christian  geiitkinan,- — he  shouhl  alsn  be  a  schohir 
nnd  a  divine,  a  good  reader,  a  pfisuasive  preacher,  hi  tiie  sdHioIruom 
a]it  to  teach,  in  the  sitk  chaniljer  gentle  and  syinpathizini^,  nut  want- 
ing in  tact  and  delicacy  for  the  discernnH^it  and  trfatiutiut  af  spiri- 
tual maladies,  nor  afraid  of  speaking  un]iii]iitahle  traths.  He  unist 
have  a  doep  knowledge  of  Imruaii  nature^  deiived  as  well  fn>iu  iuler- 
courae  with  the  world  as  fnmi  a'tilectiwi  on  his  own  conduct  nnd 
motivea.  He  must  he  conversant  with  the  niuinigement  uf  seculiir 
business,  able  tu  preside  at  tiic  meetings  rd'  his  jtarishioners,  and  to 
iulmintater  the  piimehial  uharities.  It  is  inijtussible  that  a  Uwk 
should  instruct  him  fully  in  his  luultiiarious  duties,  or  furtfstall  the 
teaching  which  lie  will  receive  fiijui  the  exercisB  of  his  holy  calHuy, 
and  from  confereuce  with  his  clerical  fritinds  and  neiylibours.  Yet 
even  here  a  book  may  do  him  good  service  by  laying  down  the  prin- 
ciples which  are  to  guide  him  in  eacJi  of  Lis  ministrations,  and  by 
giving  examples  of  the  application  of  those  principles  to  matters  of 
detail.  This  tiseful  purpose  is,  we  think,  to  a  great  extent  acconi- 
plisbed  by  51r.  Blunt'a  "  Directoriura  Pastorale." 


Pastoral  Work.  569 

Tlie  work  is  evidently  what  it  professes  to  be,  "  the  result  of 
varied  experience,  much  observation  in  different  parts  of  England, 
and  a  careful  reading  of  most  of  the  works  that  are  extant  on 
the  pastoral  office."  It  does  not  show  the  abundance  of  theological 
learning  which  is  to  be  found  in  the  late  Professor  Bhmt's  "  Duties  of 
the  Parish  Priest ;"  it  is  not  equal  to  Archdeacon  Evans's  "  Bishopric 
of  Souls"  in  eloquence  and  tenderness  of  feeling;  nor,  perhaps,  is  it 
so  comprehensive  as  Archdeacon  Sandford's  "  Parochialia."  But  we 
think  it  yields  to  none  of  those  excellent  treatises,  nor  to  any  other 
on  the  same  subject  with  which  we  are  acquainted,  in  real  usefulness. 
Always  holding  before  the  clergyman  a  high  standard  of  personal 
holiness  and  zeal,  sound  in  its  general  principles,  and  full  of  practical 
suggestions,  compendious  and  well  arranged,  it  seems  to  us  in  every 
way  well  fitted  to  be  the  pastor's  manual.  Many  a  clergjinart  is 
called  upon  to  undertake  the  responsibilities  of  a  parish  who  has  had 
little  or  no  previous  training  in  parochial  work ;  and  it  is  not  every 
one  who,  under  such  circumstances,  finds  among  his  clerical  neigh- 
bours, or  even  endeavours  to  find,  the  friendly  adviser  of  whom  he 
stands  in  need  at  almost  every  step.  To  such  persons  this  book  will 
be  a  most  valuable  guide ;  and  few,  we  should  suppose,  of  the  elder 
clergy  are  so  well  versed  in  their  duties  that  they  may  not  be  the 
wiser  for  its  perusal. 

The  author  has  apparently  prescribed  to  himself  the  strictest  absti- 
nence from  controversy ;  and  he  has  thus  been  compelled  to  pass  by 
many  points  upon  which  we  might  have  been  glad  to  have  his 
opinion.  The  chapter  treating  of  the  administration  of  the  Holy 
Communion  is  on  this  account,  as  he  acknowledges,  especially  in- 
complete. But  to  have  treated  of  such  questions  in  a  cursory 
way  would  have  been  almost  useless ;  and  had  he  discussed  them 
fully,  he  must  have  greatly  enlarged  the  scope  and  dimensions  of 
his  book,  and  rendered  it  less  generally  acceptable  than  he  may 
now  expect  it  to  be.  Some  idea  of  the  contents  may  be  gathered 
from  the  foUowing  list  of  the  headings  of  the  chapters : — I.  Tlie 
nature  of  the  pastoral  office;  II.  The  relation  of  the  pastor  to  God; 
111.  The  relation  of  the  pastor  to  his  flock ;  IV.  The  ministry  of  God's 
Word  ;  V.  The  ministry  of  the  sacraments ;  VI.  The  visitation  of  the 
sick  ;  VII.  Pastoral  converse ;  VIII.  Pastoral  guidance ;  IX.  Schools  ; 
X.  Parochial  lay  co-operation  ;  XI.  Auxiliary  parochial  institutions ; 
XII.  Parish  festivals  ;  XIII.  Miscellaneous  responsibilities. 

After  expressing  so  strongly  our  approval  of  Mr.  Blunt's  perform- 
ance as  a  whole,  we  shall  hope  to  be  forgiven  by  him  if,  in  the  follow- 
ing observations,  we  notice  a  few  of  his  statements  which  seem  to 
require  more  or  less  of  qualification. 

In  his  chapter  on  "The  Relation  of  the  Pastor  to  God,"  he  very 


5  70  The  Contemporary  Review, 

piDperly  lays  it  down  that  " ininisterial  acta  and  words  liave  a  power 
derived  from  God  as  well  as  an  outward  form;"  but  he  is  not  i^er- 
iectly  accurate  when  from  this  he  proceeds  to  say, — 

"  >yhatevcr  is  the  spiritual  effect  of  words  or  actions  that  are  used  by  the 
ministers  of  God,  that  effect  is  produced  by  God  alone ;  and  the  minister  of 
God  can  no  more  be  s^id  to  produce  these  results  than  the  conduit  which 
conveys  water  from  the  luoimtain  spring  to  the  lips  of  the  drinker  can  1» 
said  to  quench  his  thirst." — (P.  35.) 

To  this  it  may  obviously  be  replied  that  the  minister  is  a  reason- 
able and  free  agent — the  conduit  no  more  than  a  passive  instrument ; 
and  so  far  as  it  is  at  the  discretion  of  the  minister  to  do  the  act  or 
to  pronounce  the  form  of  words  to  which  the  spiritual  effect  is 
attached,  so  far  he  has  it  in  his  power  to  produce  that  effect.  The 
weakness  of  the  comparison  is  conspicuous  in  the  case  which  Sir. 
Blunt  has  adduced  as  an  illustration  of  it,  the  Absolution  used  in  the 
Visitation  of  the  Sick :  "  If  the  sick  man  humbly  and  heartily  desires 
it," — and  as  to  this  the  nuuister  must  judge, — ^he  is  to  be  absolved 
according  to  a  form  which  in  its  terms  is  judicial  and  unconditional, 
"  I  absolve  thee."  We  cannot  think  the  similitude  of  the  conduit 
will  satisfy  those  who  feel  a  difficulty  about  this  form  of  absolution. 
Either  they  will  be  fain  to  explain  it  (like  Wheatley)  as  having 
reference  only  to  ecclesiastical  censures,  or  else  they  will  import  into 
it  a  reservation  which  makes  it  conditional,  such  as  this,  "  I  absolve 
thee  if  thou  art-  truly  penitent,"  or  "  if  nothing  hindereth."  A  reser- 
vation of  this  kind  seems,  after  all,  to  be  adopted  by  Mr.  Blunt.  For 
with  reference  to  the  words,  "  Whosesoever  sins  ye  remit,  they  are 
remitted  unto  them,"  &c.  (Jolin  xx.  23),  he  says, — 

"  These  words  must  be  interpreted  in  the  sense  indicated  by  our  Lonl's 
prc\"ious  words  on  bindin<i  (ind  loosing,  viz.,  that  what  the  apostles  did  in 
their  ministerial  office,  hail  power  towards  the  soids  of  men,  because,  though 
done  by  men  on  earth,  it  was  done  by  those  who  were  acting  as  the  depu- 
tie.s  of  the  Chief  81iepher<l,  and  would  consequently  be,  nothing  himierUnj, 
ratihed  in  heaven." — {P.  37.) 

Tiiis  may  be  a  reasonable  interpretation ;  but  it  is  not  taking  tlie 
words  as  ^Ir.  IJhmt,  at  p.  3o,  thinks  they  easily  may  be  taken,  "iu 
tlieii-  simple  meaning."  Upon  the  whole,  considering  that  the  indi- 
cative tbrui,  "  I  absolve  thee,"  as  well  as  the  delivery  of  the  power 
to  remit  and  retain  sins  in  the  Ordination  Service,  appears  never  to 
have  been  used  in  the  Church  before  the  twelfth  centurj', — au  age 
wlujso  precedents  are  not  entitled  to  our  un([ualified  respect, — it  is  Jiti 
"Wonder  if  many  of  the  clergy  in  their  ministrations,  like  Bishop  Bull 
on  hiri  deathbed,  prefer  the  precatory  form  with  which  the  whole  of 
Christendoin  for  ten  centuries  was  content. 

Starting  from  the  injunction  in  the  Preface  to  the  Prayer-book, 


Pastoral  Work.  571 

which  requires  the  minister,  "  being  at  home,  and  not  being  otherwise 
reasonably  hindered,"  to  say  the  morning  and  evening  prayer  in  his 
parish  church,  Mr.  Blunt  pleads  strongly  for  the  revival  of  the  daily 
service,  dwells  on  the  blessings  likely  to  arise  from  it  both  to  the 
pastor  and  his  flock,  and  meets  some  of  the  objections  commonly 
made  to  it,  such  as  the  length  of  the  service,  its  interference  with 
domestic  duties,  and  the  inappropriateness  of  certain  passages  of 
Scripture  appointed  for  the  lessons.  We  also  value  highly  the  daily 
service,  and  should  wish  it  to  be  resumed  wherever  there  is  a  good 
prospect  of  its  being  regularly  maintained  and  fairly  attended.  But 
we  think  the  clergyman,  if  he  be  single-handed,  may  with  a  good 
conscience  plead  tba't  he  is  "reasonably  hindered"  from  it.  When 
once  he  has  commenced, it,  he  will  always  be  unwilling  to  let  it  be 
interrupted  on  account  of  his  indisposition  or  absence  from  home ; 
and  thus  it  can  hardly  fail  in  time  to  become  a  strain  on  his  health, 
and  a  restraint  on  his  needful  recreation.  Outside  the  walls  of  the 
church,  the  ministrations  of  the  parish  priest  have  much  increased 
since  the  injunction  was  given  to  wliich  reference  has  been  made. 
The  religioxw  teaching  in  schools,  and  the  general  superintendence  of 
these  and  other  parochial  institutions,  claim  a  large  share  of  his  time 
and  attention ;  while  the  domiciliary  visitation,  from  the  increase  of 
population  and  other  causes,  is  a  far  more  onerous  part  of  the  pastoral 
work  than  it  was  two  or  three  centuries  ago.  Moreover,  in  rehgious 
families  of  the  upper  classes,  family  prayers  have  to  a  great  extent 
occupied  the  place  of  the  Church  service.  Undoubtedly,  they  cannot 
compare  with  it  in  solemnity  and  the  "beauty  of  holiness;"  but  they 
have  their  special  advantages.  The  whole  household  may  without 
inconvenience  be  brought  together  to  join  in  them.  They  admit  the 
introduction  of  domestic  topics :  they  may  be  lengthened,  or  short- 
ened, or  otherwise  adapted  to  the  circumstances  of  the  family ;  and 
in  the  use  of  them  the  master  of  the  family  is  reminded  of  his  respon- 
sibilities as  a  priest  in  his  own  house.  It  seems  to  us  that  family 
prayers  hardly  deserve  to  be  dismissed  by  Mr.  Blunt  with  the  some- 
what disparaging  smibriquet  of  "  breakfast-table  devotions." 

As  a  mode  of  shortening  the  Church  service,  Mr.  Blimt  suggests  the 
omission  of  all  the  prayers  intervening  between  the  third  collect  and 
the  prayer  of  St  Chrysostom ;  and  in  support  of  this  abbreviation  he 
alleges  that  the  rubric  after  the  third  collect  requires  the  five  prayers 
following  to  be  said  loken  there  is  an  antlievi,  hut  not  otherwise  (p.  58). 
ITie  abbreviation  has,  we  believe,  in  some  churches  been  adopted. 
We  object  to  it  (much  as  we  should  like  to  have  a  shorter  form  of 
daily  prayer)  because  it  cuts  out  nearly  all  the  intercessory  part  of 
the  service,  leaving  only  two  or  three  short  supplications,  "  O  Lord, 
save  the  Queen,"  &c. ;  but  if  we  thought  it  in  itself  unobjectionable. 


572  The  Contemporary  Review, 

we  should  be  sorry  to  have  to  maintain  in  a  court  of  law  the  con- 
struction of  the  rubric  which  lias  been  put  forward  in  its  defence. 

The  chapter  on  "  The  Ministry  of  God's  Word"  contains  many  judi- 
cious observations  and  suggestions  on  the  practice  of  extempore 
preaching,  which  King  Charles  II.  vainly  endeavoiured  to  restore  by  a 
proclamation  addressed  to  the  University  of  Cambridge,  but  which, 
we  may  hope,  la  in  our  time  gradually  reviving.  Some  persons,  no 
doubt,  possess  in  a  greater  d^ree  than  others  a  natural  capacity  and 
predUection  for  the  attainment  of  eloquence ;  but  we  believe  with  Mr. 
Blunt,  that  the  correct  expression  of  ideas  by  word  of  mouth  is  rather 
an  accomplishment,  to  be  acquired  by  study  and  practice,  than  a 
"  gift,"  and  that  a  fair  proficiency  in  the  art  of  public  speaking  is 
within  the  reach  of  almost  every  young  man  who  resolutely  sets 
himself  to  attain  it.  Every  clei^man  certainly  should  do  his  best 
to  possess  himself  of  this  most  valuable  accomplishment,  before 
he  resigns  himself  entirely  to  the  habit  of  writing  his  sermons, 
and  preaching  from  book. 

Yet  we  woidd  warn  the  clergyman,  more  strongly  than  Mr. 
Blimt  has  done,  on  no  account  to  give  up  writing.  We  believe 
that  by  doing  so,  and  trusting  entirely  to  their  acqiiired  or  natural 
fluency,  many  have  seriously  impaired  their  effectiveness  in  the 
pulpit.  If  they  have  gained  in  animation,  it  has  been  at  the  cost 
of  becoming  verbose,  inaccurate,  inelegant,  incoherent,  or  given  to 
vain  repetitions.  Nor  is  it  the  case  that  an  increase  of  animation 
always  attends  the  successful  attempt  to  preach  extempore.  We  have 
ourselves  known  one  (probably  not  a  solitary  instance)  who  acquitted 
himself  well  as  an  extempore  preacher,  was  easy  and  fluent,  and  being 
less  ambitious  in  his  style  was  in  that  respect  more  pleasing  than 
when  he  had  composed  his  sermon  beforehand ;  but  the  fervour  of 
tone  and  manner  which  he  never  failed  to  throw  into  the  written 
discourse,  he  seemed  unable  to  command  when  he  had  to  carry  on 
simultaneously  the  two  processes  of  composition  and  delivery.  "We 
cannot  take  exception  to  anything  Mr.  Blunt  has  said  on  this  subject, 
but  wish  he  had  recommended  the  preacher  who  has  not  confidence 
in  his  extempore  powers,  to  try  the  experiment  of  writing  his  sermon, 
and  committii^  it  to  memory.  Tliis  practice  prevails  in  the  Scottish 
kirk,  and  is  followed,  we  believe,  by  many  of  the  continental  clergy, 
and  by  some  eminent  preachers  of  our  own  Church,  with  good  effect 

It  is  truly  observed  by  Mr.  Blunt,  in  his  chapter  on  the  Visitation  of 
tlie  Sick,  that  the  practice  of  the  clergy  at  the  present  day  with  r^ard 
to  that  part  of  pastoral  duty  very  far  exceeds  the  standard  set  up  in 
the  Prayer-book  and  the  canons  of  the  Church.  For  whereas  the  67th 
canon  only  requires  the  minister  to  visit  for  the  purpose  of  giving 
instruction  and  comfort  to   a  parishioner   whom   he  knows  to  be 


Pastoral  Wi?rk. 


573 


I 
I 

I 


w'cA',  and  t!ie  rulmc  before  the  Visitation  Service  enjoins 
that,  liplien  auy  peraou  is  sick,  "  notice  thereof  shall  be  given  to  the 
minister,"  tlie  practice  is  not  to  defer  the  visit  until  notice  Ije 
given,  liut  to  seek  out  as  well  tlie  aged^  the  infirm,  and  the  per- 
manent iuviiliiis  as  the  "  dangttrijusly  sick,"  and  to  give  them  the 
cuusolations  and  exhorta tiring  ^vhieli  may  appear  needful,  tlimtgh  no 
provision  is  made  for  sucli  cases  in  the  authorized  servico-lxioks  of 
the  Cliuruh.  Mr.  Blunt  does  not  lay  ao  much  stress  aa  some  recent 
wTitei-s  have  done  on  the  use  of  the  oftice  prescrilwd  hy  the  Pntyei"- 
Iwdk,  and  aplieara  to  reeonmiend  its  use  iu  one  case  only,  that  of 
WL'll-inatructed  habitual  church-goera  who  are  in.  mortal  sickness ; 
and  he  adds,  tliat  when  the  Visitation  Service  has  been  once  com- 
pletely used,  it  shnuld  mjt  be  repeated.  AVe  doubt  whether,  even  iu 
this  one  case,  the  majority  of  the  clergy  are  in  the  habit  of  nsitig  the 
whole  seniee.  Hy  very  niany  it  \%  thought  t-n  be  inconvonient  and 
insufficient,  and  somewhat  antiquated  in  its  language;  svnd  by  some 
the  Absfilntion  is  felt  to  be  a  stumbling-block.  They  think  too,  not 
without  reason,  that  they  are  released  froni  the  use  of  the  office  by 
the  terms  of  the  67th  canon,  whicln  says, — 

"  "Wlien  any  person  is  dangerously  sick  in.  any  parish,  the  minister  or 
curat**,  hiivinjj  knowludge  thcrwof,  ehall  resort  unto  him  or  her  (if  tho  diB«a«B 
be  not  known,  or  probably  ausjiected,  to  he  infe^;tiou8),  to  iufitruct  and  com- 
fort them  in  their  distresa,  nn-urfl'mg  in  the  order  tif  the  Cfmunuuum  Duof:, 
if  hp.  be  no  prracher;  f/r  if  ha  he  a  pmaehtr,  then  a»  he  «fiall  think  uuief 
iifietiftU  and  cimfienient." 

In  general,  we  believe  the  clergy  prefer  to  combine  portions  of  the 
Viaitation  Office  and  other  parts  of  the  Prayer-book  with  prayera  of 
their  own,  prompted  at  the  moment  by  their  sympathy  with  tlie 
sufferer,  by  the  conversiation  wliich  tliey  have  just  had  with  him,  and 
by  their  sense  of  his  peculiar  spiritual  nee^ls  and  infirmities  ;  or  else 
they  nse  some  one  of  the  numerous  manuals  published  for  their 
guidance  in  this  most  important  and  difficult  part  of  their  duties. 
We  are  very  much  of  Mr.  Blunt's  opinion,  that  none  of  these  manuals 
fulfils  all  the  conditions  necessary  for  the  judicious  and  convenient 
visitation  of  the  sick ;  and  we  think  his  suggestion  a  good  one,  that 
the  elei^iyman  should  supply  this  want  for  himself,  and  that,  for  this 
piir[)oae,  he  will  do  well  tn  purchase  a  Bible  and  Prayer-book  of  small 
size,  but  of  as  large  tyjae  aa  possible,  in  sheets,  and  to  have  the 
I'rayer-book  bound  up  together  with  the  books  of  Job  and  Isaiah,  and 
fifty  or  sixty  aheets  of  blank  paper,  on  M'hich  may  be  written  douii 
lista  of  psalms  and  Scriptui-es  suitable  for  various  cases,  notes  for 
exposition,  exhortation,  and  prayer,  and  a  few  prayers  taken  from  our 
beat  divines. 

Archbishop  Whately  tells   us^,  in   his   "  Parish  Pastor,"   that  he 


574  ^^  CofUemporary  Review. 

raised  a  great  outcry  against  himself  by  saying  that  a  Eomish  priest, 
who  believed  in  confession,  absolution,  and  extreme  unction,  "will 
feel  himself  called  on  to  eucounter  greater  risks  from  infectioua 
disease  than  it  would  be  needful,  or  even  allowable,  for  a  Protestant 
minister  to  expose  himself  to."  Our  author  discusses  this  question, 
and  in  his  conclusion  so  far  concurs  with  the  Archbishop  as  to  say — 
(1)  that  the  pastor  "  ia  not  to  rush  into  danger  when  his  services  are 
not  sought  for,  nor  likely  to  be  of  UBe;"  but  (2)  that  "he  is  not 
to  shrink  from  danger  when  he  is  summoned  to  visit  a  person,  suffer- 
ing from  an  infectious  disorder."  We  cannot  but  think  that,  in  this 
one  instance,  Mr.  Blunt's  teaching  falls  below  the  existing  standard 
of  ministerial  duty;  for  although  the  67th  canon  (quoted  above), 
which  was  framed  at  a  time  when  there  was  much  apprehension  of 
the  plague,  might  seem  to  relieve  the  cleigy  from  the  duty  of  visiting 
in  cases  of  infection,  there  are  few  cleigymen  at  the  present  day  who, 
in  such  a  case,  would  consider  themselves  justified  in  waiting  until 
they  foimd  that  their  services  were  sought  for,  or  were  likely  to  be 
of  use. 

With  regard  to  the  Communion  of  the  Sick,  Mr.  Blimt,  speaking  of 
the  previous  arrangements,  says, — 

"The  surplice  should  certainly  be  used  on  such  occasions.  Indeed,  the 
<^ce  is  framed  in  so  exact  an  analogy  with  that  for  the  celebration  of  the 
Holy  Communion  in  pubhc,  that  it  is  very  singular  the  habit  of  administer- 
ing it  privately  in  a  common  walking  dress  only  should  ever  have  grown  up 
among  the  clei^y.  It  certainly  camiot  be  accounted  an  over-strictness,  in 
regard  to  externals,  to  reckon  the  seemly  vesture  prescribed  for  the  purpose 
among  the  'all  things  necessary'  for  reverent  celebration^  directed  by  the 
rubric."— {P.  214.) 

And  this  \'iew  is  enforced  at  greater  length  in  the  valuable  work 
entitled  "  Visitatio  Tnfirmorum  "  (Introduction,  p.  cxxiv.).  It  will  be 
allowed  by  many  who  cannot  be  accused  of  paying  undue  reference  to 
externals,  that  the  use  of  the  surplice  is  unobjectionable  in  itself,  and 
is  likely  to  add  to  the  solemnity  of  the  ordinance  by  leading  the 
communicant  to  disconnect  it  from  the  other  ministrations  of  the  sick- 
room, and  to  associate  it  in  his  mind  with  those  of  the  Church.  Yet 
it  seems  to  us  that  Mr.  Blunt  speaks  rather  too  strongly  wlien  he  says 
it  "  should  certainly  be  used."  In  the  absence  of  an  express  direction 
of  the  Church  (and  we  cannot  think  the  58th  canon,  which  has  been 
cited  in  tliis  behalf,  is  at  all  conclusive  on  the  point),  and  without  the 
sanction  of  general  custom,  some  clergymen  may  hesitate  as  to  the 
propriety  of  wearing  tlie  Church's  vestments  for  other  purposes  than 
tliose  of  public  worship.  And  if  in  any  case  it  is  probable  that  the 
sui-phee  wiU  disturb  the  mind  of  the  sick  pei-son,  we  should  say  it  cer- 
twnly  ought  iwt  to  be  xtsed.     From  what  we  have  heard,  however,  our 


Pastoral  Work.  575 

impression  is  that  on  this  score  there  need  be  no  fear.  The  practice  is 
becoming  common,  and  is  not  entirely  of  recent  introduction :  in  the 
great  parish  of  St.  George's,  Hanover  Square,  it  has  prevailed  for  very 
many  years,  as  we  are  informed,  without  givuig  offence. 

Mr.  Blunt  deals  in  no  austere  spirit  with  the  questions,  not  always 
easy  of  solution,  which  arise  out  of  the  daily  intercourse  of  the  pastor 
with  his  flock.  He  adopts  rather  the  social  and  genial  than  the 
acsetic  view  of  the  clerical  character.  He  allows  the  clei^yman  to 
mingle  in  society  and  to  take  part  in  its  lawful  festivities  and  amuse- 
ments, provided  be  always  bear  in  mind  that  the  grand  object  of  bis 
conversation  must  he  to  gain  the  confidence  and  good-will  of  his 
parishioners  for  pastoral,  not  for  secular  purposes.  Some  persons  may 
be  shocked,  though  we  are  not,  to  find  that  attendance,  on  special 
occasions,  is  permitted  even  at  a  ball  or  a  cricket-match : — 

"  It  may  be  expedient  to  remind  society  that  it  is  Christian  even  in  the 
midst  of  social  joya ;  and  in  the  gayest  scene,  as  elsewhere,  the  presence  of 
the  servant  of  God,  as  audi,  may  be  a  strong  rebuke  to  an  excessive  spirit  of 
worldliuess,  as  it  may  be  a  visible  memorial  of  a  Master  of  all,  whose  eye  is 
never  absent" — (P.  82.) 

We  confess,  however,  we  think  the  occasions  on  which  the  cleigyman 
is  seen  at  a  ball  should  be  "  few  and  far  between." 

It  may  seem  almost  an  insult  to  the  reader's  common  sense  to 
submit  to  him  a  paragraph  on  "  the  importance  of  towns."  But  it  is 
by  no  means  unnecessary  to  remind  the  young  man  who  is  about  to 
choose  his  sphere  of  pastoral  work,  that  the  to\vn,  however  inferior  to 
the  country  in  natural  charms,  is  superior  to  it  in  one  important  point, 
inasmuch  as  it  calls  out  more  completely  all  the  powers  of  a  man, 
and  gives  greater  scope  to  his  energy  and  zeal.  And  we  readily  forgive 
Mr.  Blunt  the  title  of  his  paragraph,  for  the  sake  of  the  following 
observations  which  form  the  staple  of  it,  and  which  seem  to  us  just 
and  true  in  tlie  main,  whether  the  comparison  suggested  in  them 
between  America  and  the  North  of  England  be  admitted  or  not : — 

"There  has  always  been  a  preference  for  country  parishes  among  the 
clergy ;  and  of  books  that  have  been  written  on  the  subject  of  pastoral 
work,  I  know  hardly  any  which  at  all  deal  with  it  as  if  England  was  a  land 
of  manufacturing  toivna  as  well  as  agricultural  ■villages.  Let  English  clergy- 
men avoid  the  seductions  of  the  charming  sojjhism  that  '  God  made  the 
country,  and  man  made  the  town.'  Under  the  influence  of  love  for  country 
life,  they  went  a  long  way,  in  past  generations,  towards  losing  the  hold  of 
the  Churcli  of  which  they  were  ministers  over  the  populations  of  our  largo 
toims.  And  yet  one  great  city  thoroughly  gained  for  the  Church  would 
have  more  influence  on  the  revival  of  Church  of  England  principles,  and  of 
practical  religion,  than  the  largest  county  of  mere  agricultural  parishes.  It 
is  in  the  cities  and  towna  that  the  intellectual  powers  are  being  developed 
among  the  classes  who  do  the  headwork  of  the  country.     It  is  there  that 


576  Tlie  Contemporary  Review. 

the  great  social  questions  of  the  day  are  being  tried  out ;  there  that  the 
fiecular  part  of  education  is  being  pushed  to  its  utmost  limits.  This  is  espe- 
cially the  case  in  the  North  of  lingland,  which  in  many  parts  is  a  kind  (rf 
Anglicized  America  in  its  feelings,  institutionfi,  and  habits ;  the  principal 
(lilTerence,  and  a  most  important  one,  being,  that  there  is  still  a  strong  undei^ 
lying  force  of  national  tradition,  which  gives  a  stability  to  the  northern 
counties  of  England,  derived  from  the  consciousness  of  a  past,  such  aa 
America,  in  its  unmitigated  newness,  cannot  yet  possess.  If  it  should  he 
the  lot  of  a  cleigjrman  to  be  cast  in  any  town  pansh  where  the  characteris- 
tics here  hinted  at  are  conspicuous,  let  him  look  on  it  as  a  ministerial  privi- 
lege— let  him  consider  that  he  has  been  placed  in  a  position  where  all  his 
learning,  energy,  zeal,  piety,  and  tact  will  be  required.  He  has  been  placed 
in  the  vanguard  of  the  army  which  is  fighting  the  Lord's  battle  against  im- 
morality and  sin,  and  has  had  put  into  his  hands  the  most  hopeful  material 
that  can  be  found  for  building  up  a  '  Chureh  of  the  future,'  such  as  will  be 
a  true  development,  for  a  busy  age,  of  the  ever  fresh  and  young  Church 
which  has  been  the  guide  of  so  many  generations." — (P.  92.) 

We  muflt  now  take  leave  of  Mr.  Blunt's  book,  with  the  hope  that 
many  of  our  clerical  readers  may  be  induced  by  our  commendatione, 
and  even  by  our  criticisms,  to  examine  it  for  themselves. 

W.   G.    HUMPHKY. 


1 

1 

I 

s 

8 

S 

p 

1 

M 

^ 

s 

B| 

1 

1 

1 

B 

8 

B 

i 

s 

M 

B 

ft 

i 

THE  CONSCIENCE   CLAUSE. 


Tkt  Coiutieitet  Claiue:  Ut  HUtom,  Termt,  Sfffi,  ond  PrincipU.  A 
Btply  to  Archdtaeon  Daiiteit.  Bf  JoBX  Oaxi.it,  MA.  London : 
Bidgwv.    1360. 

TAf  CoMcienee  Ctauta  qf  tht  EduealUm  DtpartwuHl,  lUutlraUd  from  Vtt 
Bvidtnet  lakm  by  Ou  StUet  Coaaiittei  ^  Edueatiat,  and  from  tkt 
Corrttpondmet  of  Hu  Commitla  of  Comteit  on  Cduroffen.  '%$  John 
Qklubiujid  Hubbaad,  M.P.     LondoD ;  JlMtn*.    1805. 

MR  OAKLEY  has  had  the  courage  to  come  forward  as  the  cham- 
pion of  an  unpopular  cause  against  a  formidable  ant^onist. 
For  the  last  two  years  the  name  of  Archdeacon  Denison  has  been 
identified  with  the  question  of  the  Conscience  Clause.  If  it  had  been 
invented  for  his  special  benefit,  it  could  not  more  effectually  have 
answered  the  purpose  of  giving  him  a  grievance,  and  within  the  walls 
of  the  Jerusalem  Chamber,  and  without,  he  has  made  the  most  of  it. 
Easy  as  it  is  to  mistake  noise  for  strength,  and  the  concerted  action  of 
a  party  for  the  utterance  of  the  mind  of  the  Church,  it  is  probably 
no  exaggeration  to  say  that  on  this  question  he  has  a  very  large  fol- 
lowing among  his  brother  clergy,  and  that  many  zealous  laymen  are 
ready  to  support  him.  The  causes  of  this  inAuence  are  not  far  to 
seek.  Fei'sonal  character,  manifest  earnestness,  indomitable  courage, 
oratorical  power, — tliese  are  combined  in  no  ordinary  measure  in  the 
leader  of  the  movement  against  the  Conscience  Clause,  and  they 
qualify  him  for  the  post  he  has  assumed.  Few  men  living  possess  the 
demagogic  power  in  a  higlier  degree  of  excellence ;  and  where  he  is  en 
rapport  with  the  demos,  where  he  speaks  to  men  whose  convictions, 
feelings,  prejudices  he  shares,  he  knows  how  to  wield  them  at  his  wilL 
With  a  skill  in  avoiding  monotony  which  is  either  a  natural  gift  or 
the  growth  of  long  practice,  he  knows  how  to  pass  from  one  rhetorical 
extreme  to  the  other.     Spurgeon  is  hardly  more  comic,  Dr.  Pusey 


578  The  Contemporary  Review. 

hardly  more  awfiil.  Pleasant  jests  about  his  telling  the  boyg  of 
his  Tallage  to  duck  a  school  inspector*  and  tremendous  denimcia- 
tions  of  those' who  woxild  sacrifice  the  (fepo8i7«fli  fidei  ioi  the  sake 
of  a  Government  grant,  actually  jostle  each  other  in  his  speeches, 
and  "  cheers  and  laughter "  alternate  with  the  thrill,  lialf  of  hoiror 
and  half  of  complacency,  of  those  who  listen  to  anathemas  against 
their  opponents. 

It  is  no  disparagement  to  the  Archdeacon  to  add,  in  dwelling  on 
these  special  gifts,  that  his  speeches  are  better  heard  than  read.  The 
juxtaposition  of  the  grave  and  the  ludicrous,  which  may  be  welcomed 
as  a  relief  by  those  who  listen,  is  felt  as  an  incongruity  by  those  who 
read ;  and  marked  as  eveiy  letter  of  his  is  by  terse  and  vigorous 
English,  and  by  a  bold  assertion  of  principles,  they  are  yet  wanting  in 
the  fulness  and  completeness  which  bring  out  all  the  salient  points 
and  facts  of  a  case  in  their  right  relation  to  each  other,  and  each  with 
the  evidence  and  arguments  that  of  right  belong  to  it.  We  do  not 
look,  in  such  a  man,  for  the  dispassionate  calmness  of  the  judge.  "We 
are  contented  if  we  can  find,  as  a  help  to  our  o^ti  judgment,  the 
eloquent  pleading  of  the  advocate. 

What  is  wanting  in  Archdeacon  Denison's  speeches  is  supplied  by 
Mr.  Hubbard's  pamphlet.  That  gentleman,  distinguished  for  a  zealom 
loyalty  to  the  Church  which  has  shown  itself  in  many  higher  and 
nobler  works  than  controversy,  has  not  shrunk  from  taking  a  foremost 
place  as  her  champion  in  that  field  also.  In  the  Church-rate  question 
as  in  that  of  the  Conscience  Clause,  he  is  the  lay-brother,  almost  the 
alter  ego  of  the  Archdeacon;  and  in  the  latter  has  brought  together,  with 
a  method  and  compactness  due,  it  may  be  supposed,  to  his  parlia- 
mentary training,  all  the  most  material  facts  and  arguments  of  liis 
case.'f'    The  reader  who  takes  his  pamphlet  on  the  one  side  and  Mr. 

•  Speech  in  Convocation :  Giiiriiian,  Feb.  7,  1866. 

t  It  is  right  to  add  that  Mr.  Hubbard's  pamphlet  is  not  limited  to  this.  With  a  stiiliiig 
fairness  he  gives,  often  in  extenio,  evidence  and  arguments  on  the  other  side.  But  I  ua 
compelled  to  add  that  there  is  sometimes  a  want  of  power  to  enter  into  other  men's  feeling*, 
or  sec  the  bearing  of  an  argument,  which  betrays  him  into  what  seems,  but  is  not,  unfnir- 
ness.  ThuB  (1)  as  Mr.  Oakley  points  out  (p.  16],  he  has,  with  no  conceivablo  jiutificatioa 
(p.  33),  charged  Mr,  Lingen,  or  the  Lords  of  the  Council,  in  whoso  name  ho  writes,  iritli 
"discreditable  trickery"  because,  having  urged  tho  Committee  of  the  National  Society 
to  adopt  a  given  measure  as  founded  on  an  Act  of  Parliament,  and  being  met  with 
the  answer  that  the  Xational  Society  was  specially  exempted  from  that  Act,  he  replifi 
that  "he  knew  this  all  along,"  and  that  "if  it  were  not  exempted"  the  correspondence 
would  have  been  unnecessary,"  becatiee  the  Act  would  have  settled  the  quettioo. 
And  (2)  having,  in  p.  8,  quoted  a  sentence  of  Lord  Granville's,  admitting  the  right  of  a 
clergjTnan  to  eselude  from  the  Beeulor  instruction  of  his  schools  those  who  do  not  choose  to 
receive  his  religious  teaching,  and  added  there,  «*ith  characteristie  honesty.  Lord  GrenvDlc's 
limitation — "  the  question  appears  to  me  to  be  quite  changed  when  money  from  general  lai- 
payersis  required  forthypuipose  of  promoting  that  school,"  he  afterwards  (p.  31)  first  quotes 
the  first  clause  without  the  limitation,  and  proceeds  to  argue  from  it  as  though  Lord  GranTiUe 


Tfic  Conscienze  Clause. 


579 


I 

I 

I 

I 
I 


\ 


I 


Oakley's  full  and  ujasterly  a.rgiunent  on  the  otiier,  may  feel  sure  that 
ueitlier  cause  suffers  thrcmgh  the  weakness  or  violence  of  its  advocate, 
ami  thnt  if  he  em  in  jiiclttiiiir  it  will  not  be  from  want  of  informa- 
tion. If  I  were  to  came  any  othyr  statements  as  specially  worthy 
of  notice  it  would  be  those  contained  in  tlie  e\idence  of  the  Kev. 
G.  H.  f'agan  before  the  House  of  CommonB^  Conimittee  (Report, 
pp.  268-94). 

The  history  of  the  Conscience  Clause  may  be  traced  at  ■wearisome 
length  thi-oiigh  interminfible  oirespouJence.  The  substance  of  it  is 
briefly  this.  The  Committee  of  Council  on  Education  Imd  been  ap- 
pointed in  April,  1839,  to  admijiieter  the  grants  for  educational  purposes 
which  Parliftinent  had  been  induced  t^  vote,  on  the  ha,sis  (1)  of 
fiecurmjf  "training  in  the  principles  of  the  ChiTstian  religion,"  and  (3) 
of  "  respecting  the  rights  uf  conscience."  The  idea  of  any  State  inter- 
ference with  the  etlitcatiou  of  the  jieople  was  then  new  end  unwel- 
come to  the  grc-ut  body  of  the  cler^.  In  June,  1839,  came  the  first 
great  storm.  There  were  signs  that  the  Government  contemplated,  a 
Normal  School  nn  the  plan  of  a  conipreheusive  religious  basis,  and 
intended  to  admit  to  the  benefit  of  tlteir  grants  other  schools  than 
Buoh  am  were  in  union  with  the  National  or  British  and  Foreign 
Societies  (Stato-aid  to  education  Imvn'n^'  Idtlierto  passed  e>fclusively 
through  those  Societies  as  its  channBls)^  and  so  to  exercise  a  more 
direct  control  over  the  education  of  the  country.  I'etitions  to 
Parliament  against  any  such  action  poured  in  from  both.  t'huTch- 
men  and  Diasenters.  On  June  14,  Lord  Stanley  moved  an  Ad- 
dress to  the  Crown,  praying  that  the  Minute  of  Coimcil  appointing 
the  Committeo  be  rescinded,  and  was  supported  hy  Lord  Ashley, 
Mr.  Gladatoue,  and  Sir  R  IVel.  After  an  adjourned  debat-e 
the  motion  was  lost,  in  a  House  (including  pairs)  of  623,  -by  a 
majority  of  five  only.  In  tlie  House  of  Lords  the  opposition  was 
nmch  stronger,  aud  a  string  of  re-solutions,  condemning  the  action 
of  the  Committee  as  unconstitutional,  wa^  moved,  on  Jidy  5, 
1839,  hy  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  carried  by  229  ta  IIS. 
An  Address,  embodying  the  resolutions,  was  pi-eaeuted  with  great 
Bijlemnity  to  the  Queen,  and  an  answer,  reasserting  the  rights  of 
conscience,  put  into  her  mouth  more  of  the  nature  of  a  rebuke  than 
a  triumphant  majority  of  the  Peers  had  ever  before  met  with.     As  it 


Lad  cunceilud  the  jxiint  unc-onditionally,  and  Uicn,  vhen  ha  rchtmn  to  tlic  Itmitmg  clause, 
loeets  it  li^  mying,  that  na  the  pramottrs  of  BchoolR  pay  ts.x»,  tlioy  nri;  only  rccciTing  back 
tluir  own  TDonfy,  and  aro  tbereforc  i-niitlcd  to  vLoiin  us  unfctlcrod  u  lris."lgiii  jii  dealing' 
irith  it  u  if  it  hod  neper  passed  through  the  hands  of  tho  (jovemjiioitt.  He  does  n^t  seom 
able  to  groap  the  lhoiii||;h1  that,  tho  ln-X(?B  Qnc«  Wing  paid,  the  Goremnietit  as  a  tntsti^o,  nnt 
for  the  denomination  that  po;-.«,  but  for  the  wholt-  people.  So,  in  hia  letter  to  the  Guarditin 
of  Jan.  Sill,  lie  quotes  thi'  fii-st  hull'  of  Lord  GratkTillu'a  aiiaw«f,  with  abaglutrlj-  no  refer- 
ence to  tho  limiting  d&uu. 


SSo 


The  Conicmporary  Review. 


was,  the  eoUiaion,  hot  as  men's  passions  were  at  the  time,  did  good. 
Uut  fiir  the  Conservatives,  the  ^^^lifis  would  have  gone  on  -with 
schemes  for  a  "rotnjireheiisive  "  education  whit-h  wmdd  have  utterly 
lirukyn  iliiwii.  Cut  for  the  MHiij^'s,  the  Conservatives  woidd  have 
criishe"]  all  GDvenimeut  action  but  that  of  trflusmittiug  money  to  ihe 
twfi  tecoi^'niseil  societies,  and,  if  they  had  been  true  to  their  pricciplea, 
would  have  himlered  any  direct  recognition  of  dissenting  schools, 
or  of  schools  where  dissenting  children  were  admitted^  and  their 
parents'  rights  of  conscience  resiiected.  The  result  wns,  that  project^ 
for  secidai'  or  united  edncatiim  were  shelved.  The  denominatioaaj 
principle  was  practifidly  recogtnsed.  It  was  agreed  that  <;ranta  slioiJd 
he  given  for  the  buildmg  and  SHppoi-t  of  (_'In;rch  of  England  schools, 
and  for  thuse  of  other  religious  bridles,  un  identical  or  analogous 
condititiiia.  Security  waa  to  be  given  for  the  permanence  of  the 
site,  for  the  eftieieney  of  the  master,  for  the  oi-der  and  sanitary  arran<;e- 
nients  of  the  school,  fur  its  pErioilical  inspeetiou  by  a  Govemiijeiit 
officer;  but  the  religions  teaching  given  was  to  be  left  in  all  cases  to 
the  control  of  the  local  representatives  of  the  b«xly  with  «liic'U  it  waa 
connected, — in  the  case  of  Church  schools,  i.  c,  to  that  of  the  parochial 
clerg)'.  A  preference  was  avowed  for  schools  that  would  accept  a 
Conscience  Clause  (Minut*  of  Dec.  3,  1S39),  hut  the  rule  was  not 
pressed  on  Church  schoole,  waa  harilly  wanted  in  those  of  the  British 
and  Foreign  Society,  and  was  accepted  by  Wesleyans  and  other  Dis- 
senters. Controvemiea  as  to  the  appciintriieut  of  Government  inspectors 
and  the  management  clauBcs  of  audi  schools  were  armuged,  after  much 
discussion,  by  satisfactory  compromises.  The  arrangement  workcil  in 
many  ways  admirably.  The  managei-s  of  schools  soun  got  used  to  \i  Imi 
at  first  seemed  the  neeiUess  or  ve.\atiouH  restrictions  of  ofticial  red- 
tajieism,  and  the  applications  for  grants,  which  had  fallen  oCf  in  tlw 
panic  uf  1833,  increased  so  largely,  that  the  Purhamentarj-  grant,  which 
had  begun  with  a  modest  £20,000  in  1933,  had  risen,  when  Mr.  Lingen 
took  office  in  184*J.  to  £75,000  or  JEXOO,000,  and  mounted  gradually 
till  it  reached  £840,000  in  1862.  It  i*  to  this  very  success,  by  the 
confession  of  Presidents  and  Vice-Prcsi dents  uf  the  Committee  of 
Council  themselves,*  that  we  may  trace  tln^  increased  strictness  ofad- 
ministrfition  which  threatens,  in  its  direct  and  indirect  consequences, 
to  he  ao  serious  an  interruption  to  the  working  of  the  whole  scheme. 
The  grant  came  to  he  inconveniently  lai^e  for  Chancellors  of  the 


*  Evideucc,  64&,  1.040.   Hubbord,  pp.  49,  &4.   Hr.  Robert  Lowe,  with  an  uluiostcpiinJ 

L'atLdour,  cpnftSBCs  ibat  ]\<}  was  "  us  well  or  bctlcr  pksKd  Uiat  tli«  {lublic!  inob<<y  ehonlil  bv 
auvud  us  ihut  the  Cctmniionce  Clause  nhoulld  be  silypted,"  So  hn  BtftteB  (6*2)  UlBt  he  hiu 
"  neviT  tonsidi-ruJ  tlie  cstensioa  of  (he  I'duration  of  iho  wnmlry  nf  ih*  duly''  tti  the 
KiIiiratiiincL]  nirpnrtmcnC.  How  far  thijc  aro  worttif  uotiooa  of  a  itatenqoo'K  fiucliuu,  i* 
a  4]ueaLion  on  -tttu-rh.  mon't  miiidB  ma^  piMliii^  diifer. 


The  Conscience  ClausCt 


581 


Eschequer  anxious  to  introiIucB  ucouomy  iuto  the  uatioiial  expendi- 
ture. The  Committee  liad  to  ste  where  and  how  they  could  diminiah 
it.  They  must  be  aatiaiied  that  a  suLioal  was  needed,  and  would  meet  tiiti 
local  need,  bei'Lire  they  could  }^rant  a  sum  iii  aid  of  its  luiiudutioii.  Tliyy 
could  not  eanctioa  a  grant  to  more  than  one  school,  whei-e  thu  oumbur 
gf  children  to  l>e  taught  was  under  loO.  If  tlie  one  school  was  in 
union  with  the  Nati<jual  Society,  or  utherwiite  tjxcluaively  Church  of 
id,  a  gi-ant  to  it  seemed  to  involve  the  iutlictioa  of  a  hanlship 
tm  disaentJHg  parents,  who  were  tima  left  without  any  provision  for  the 
instiTiction  of  their  diiklren,  except  on  conditions  to  whit^h  thuy  might 
legitimately  qlijei;t.  Hi>w'  was  tlus  to  be  avoided  ?  In  tlieir  attempts 
to  answer  tJiig  question,  "My  L(.>tds"  of  the  Committee  of  Council, 
at  the  suifg&stion  tif  tlieic  pGrmaneut  secretary,  Jlr,  Lijigen,*  hit 
apon  the  expedient  of  the  90-calIed  "Cauacienec!  Clause."  It  waa,  in 
casa'^  like  that  just  described,  to  be  a  condition  of  a  grant  t(j  tlie 
Church  school,  that  its  founders  should  consent  to  admit  the  childi'^n, 
of  Dissenters,  when  they  formed  what  is  called  an  "  apia^eiahle  mi- 
nority,"— wliich  is  defined  at  from  oue-aeveut!i  to  one- fourth, ^without 
eufurcing  upon  them  eitlier  attendance  at  Divtne  service  in  church, 
or  the  doctrines  and  formulariea  of  the  Clmrch  of  England.  The  fiisfc 
indication  of  the  wish  to  introduce  such  a  clause  was  the  signal  of 
resistance.  It  was  ni'gcd  by  Archdeacon  I>euison  and  those  who 
thouj^ht  with  him,  that  no  school  in  connection  with  the  National 
Society  could  adopt  such  a  clause,  that  no  school  ado[)ting  it  could  be 
utted  into  connection.  By  the  charter  of  that  society  the  Cate- 
chism of  the  Church  of  England  is  to  be  taught  to  "the  children "+ 
in  its  schools ;  and  it  waa  argued  that  "  tlic  chiliiren,"  in  its  natural  and 
obvious  sense,  means  all  and  not  some.  Sir  Juhn  Coleridge  gave  the 
weight  of  Ida  high  authority  to  tlds  interpretation.  At  firat  an  influ- 
ential party  in  tlie  mana^ng  body  of  the  society — bishops,  other  clergy, 
and  laymen — were  in  favour  of  concession.  Tlie  requirements  of  their 
charter  were  adeijuately  met,  it  was  said,  if  the  Catechism  was  taught 
as  a  rule.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  there  already  were,  and  alway.s  had  been, 
numerous  exceptions,  and  tliey  had  been  tacitly  at  least  Hanctioaud.J  To 
admit  diaaeutiug  children  without  strmgent  conditions  waa  the  most 

•  Eridenc*-,  H9». 

t  There  has,  hawerer,  iMscn  a.  siguiticant  Heri«i  of  chmifuB  in  tlia  pJiraBcology  of  tho 
tcima  of  wiii')ii,~(L)  "till  the ■ciiiliir<!fl  without  ciccption;"  (2)  "all  the  oluldren;"  (3) 
"tte  ihil'lren"  nmpUdlfr. 

J  8to  the  ndniisfiigin  of  Mr,  Huljharf  himgolf  (p.  11)  anil  Ari-hilpacon  Dunison  CP'  ^I)' 
aoi  the  eridcncv  uf  Mr.  Keniieily  (2,iJ.il)  and  ilr.  Uirdlcatonu  (3,31  U).  Yel  niiir^  striking 
ia  lh«  elflboratu  vjiiditntion  ijI'  tlac  prattiuo  ofadniiltini;  diHsentlug  L'liiMnia  illlo  National 
■choola  *ithf)U(  rEi|uiring  atton(iftin-'o  at  iliiirth,  by  th.e  lato  AnliiiiiKnn  Hiir<!  (Clmrgc, 
1S54,  p.  72}  and  Arcbdenijoii  Wilberf^trco  (ijuotud,  ihid.'].  Il  U  right  to  mid  that  Awh- 
deacon  Ilaivii  def^nL'c  implies  their  inatniciiou  in  the  CatccJuaiu,  vwept  eo  far  ks  tmlii 
c<impcUi^  them  to  change  \\a  atDLmaentii  of  fiwt. 

VOU  I.  2  g 


582  Tlte  Coniemparary  Review. 

likely  way  to  bring  them  withio  the  Church's  fold.  Whatever  pleaa 
could  be  u:i^d  for  moderation,  expediency,  petice,  were  ui^d,  at  first 
with  apparent  chance  of  success;  but  in  the  etid  the  prtticipleg 
represented  by  Archdeiicon  Deniaoti  and  Mr.  Hulibiird  prevailed, 
and  the  Naticmal  Society,  in  spite  of  Mr.  Walpole'a  adiniasi^ni  of  the 
"manifest  injustice"  done  to  Dissenters,  entered  its  protest  against 
the  Conscience  Clause  as  incompatible  with  the  tonns  of  its  own 
chfli'ter.* 

This,  of  course,  was  a  seriima  evil,  lb  forced  upon  the  founders  of 
schools,  under  the  circumstances  referred  to,  an  election  between  the 
alternative  soiircea  of  siipport.  and  so  fitr  crippled  iheir  appliances. 
Those  who  look  back  uud  deplore  the  course  wliich  events  have 
actually  taken,  may  Ije  tempted  to  think  that  it  ini^'bt  have  l»een  poa- 
sible  even  then  to  avert  or  iliminieh  the  evU  ;  but  whatever  alleniptfi 
wore  made,  wci-e,  as  a  matter  of  I'act,  faiturea.  The  Society  had  set  up 
its  back,  and  "  My  Lerds"  set  up  tlieiirs.  The  Conscience  Clause  was 
mori!  and  more  frequently  made  a  condition  uf  any  grant  Ireing  giveu 
The  proportion  of  disseutinj^  children  wldch  requiriid  its  insertinu  in 
the  deed  Hnctuated  from  time  to  time  at  the  discretion  of  the  Vice- 
Presideut  or  Secretar\'.f  Undur  the  shelter  of  the  official  personation, 
which  Mr.  Lingen  so  ehiburat-ely  defends,*  he  wlvs  able  to  meet  the  coju- 
plaiiits  and  remoustraiices  of  clerical  and  lay  founders  by  assuriiuj 
them  that  "My  Lords"  had  fully  considered  them,  and  were  co]u- 
pelled  to  adhere  to  their  orij^iuai  dctenui nation,  Country'  clergy  \vere 
led  to  think  that  the  Peers  and  Right  Honourable  gentlemen  who 
formed  the  Committee  had  decided  against  them  with  the  fidJ  ^^■ei^ht 
of  authority,  and  did  not  kuow  (how  could  they  ?)  that  "  ily  Lords " 
were  often  hat  as  a  shat.lowy  Mrs.  Harris,  a  name  to  be  iised  when 
the  titukr  diguity  of  the  office  was  wanted  to  Lack  the  judgment  uf 
the  Secretary  that  any  given  case  came  under  a  pruiiiple  previously 
eanctigucd.  § 

The  result  of  all  this  was  an  ever  increa-sing  soreness.  A  decreasing 
iniiioTity,  though  still  respectable  in  uame  and  character,  including 
several  bishops  and  archdeacons,  adhered,  if  not  to  the  principle  of 

*  T)ic  National  GovJEty  cluimed  ibe  right  of  blowing  Loi  ntid  cold  ■□  the  aanie  bi«MUi. 
"  TllG  promalcrs otjght  not  to  be COtnp^llcd  Uj  Btntie,  either  that  ricry  diild  tlull  be requttnj 
to  Krnm  the  CutecltiBni,  .  .  .  riiid  attend  bcIiooI  nnd  churpb  cq  Simdajs,  or  thai  pm 
eluld  fihalL  be  coiDpcllGd  to  ilu  bo,  h\  ciuic  iSa  poresta  or  ^luu-diaiis  on  consdraitious  grouodi 
oliJHuL."— [Mpui.  of  July  1'A,  18U0.) 

t  Supra,  p.  5.  {  Evidence,  145-8,  277-91.     UubbiUTJ,  p-  43. 

)  I  iQjpute  no  wilful  abuse  of  a  muline  tt>  Mi.  Lingi^n.  BonbttDS*  he  did  but  use  thcl 
which  he  tbunil  tstflblished,  nnd  ht*  :n|»p(.-ars  (£»-idcnci),  US]  tj  huvi'  n^ferrrf,  all  new  "ir 
epCDioL  CAHCii  iti  the  Lord  I'n'SLdcut.  Idit  thb  rotitiuc  itself  is  ao  ctturir  a  cnislcadinf:  and 
mitwtiiovuua  tif;meat,  that  it  Qught  to  ha  briiken  Ihrougli  v.  once.  Air.  Lowe  tnakn  tatny 
(Evidence,  8121  with  the  Bimplitity  of  "the  mnjciriiy  i>f  clcrffjinin,"  who  "thinlc  iJiai 
thi^ri'  i>  Dlwuytsn  Board  sitting  round  a  tabic  with  grceiL  cluUi,  and  wax  tandlis  bumiiig." 


k 


^^ 


The  ConscieJtce  Clause. 


583 


the  Conscience  Clause,  yet  to  the  policy  of  admitting'  it,  or  if  not  to 
the  policy  of  enforcin^f,  to  the  principle  of  actiufr  on  it  The  followers 
nf  tlici  Archdeacon,  in  gTowin;,^  nuinbcTS,  looked  upon  it,  on  tht;  other 
hand,  as  but  the  thin  end  of  the  wedge,  the  begiuniug  of  a  system 
intended  to  introduce  secular,  and  suljvert  the  whole  fabric  of  Cliiirch 
education.  The  Chiircli  was  in  danger.  The  very  dc^tosituvi  fidci  was 
at  stake.  Fot  a  clergyman  to  accept  tlie  Coiiscientre  Claiiae  was  to 
violate  liis  moat  solemn  obligations,  to  Tje  unfaithful  to  his  ordination 
vows.  Diocesan  societieg,  following  the  lead  nf  the  National  Society, 
but  not  under  the  same  necessityj  deciilcd  that  no  aid  should  be  given 
tti  any  school  which  had  the  Conscience  Clause  in  its  trust-deed.  The 
warfare  was  carried  on  in  many  different  forms.  The  Committee  of  the 
late  House  of  Commons,  appointed  to  inquire  iuto  the  general  work- 
ing of  the  Committee  of  Council,  had  this  special  iiuestinii  brought 
, l»fore  it,  heard  Mitnesses  on  both  sides,  and  printed  their  evidence, 
tmt  ended  its  labours,  owing  to  the  dissolution  of  I'atliament,  without 
making  a  report-.  It  has  been  rea]iix>inted  in  the  present  session,  and 
it  h  probable  enough  that  any  full  discussion  of  the  question  will  be 
postpuned  tiU  the  new  CoiniJiittee  has  reported,  lu  the  meantime 
other  agencies  have  been  at  work.  Archdeacon  Benison  made  an 
elaborate  and  effective  speech  at  the  Church  Cotigi-ess  at  Norwich,  in 
Octrtlwr.  Archdeacon  Allen,  who  till  then  hfut  defended  the  clause, 
announced  his  conversion,  and  ascribed  it  to  the  interpretation  of  the 
clause  givL-n  by  Mr.  Lingeu,  in  bis  letter  to  the  Eev.  W.  B,  Caparo, 
With  sQuic  iuefiective  oppositiuu  from  the  more  moderate  party  in 
tlie  Lower  House  of  Convocatiou,  a  resolution,  condemning  the  clause,, 
and  pledging  the  Housb  to  take  myasures  against  it,  was  passed  &,t 
the  opening  of  the  present  session,  by  a  considerable  majority. 

In  this  state  the  question  at  present  stands.     Sooner  or  later  tha 
battle  will  probably  be  carried  into  Parliament. 

I  cannot  join  those  who  would  deprecate  a  discussion  there.     It. 
is  the  natural  and  constitutional  arena  for  debating  any  grievance,. 
real    or    imaginaiy,   complnined    of    by   any   considerable    claaa   oi- 
party  in  the  State,     Statements,  argumeiits,  declamation  that  pass 
muster  on  the  platform,  or  in  a  purely  professional  gathering,  there 
get  sifted,  tested,  and  not  unfrequently  torn  to  rags.     If  a  question 
like  this  is  to  be  ventilated  anywhere,  it  had  better  be  where  the 
winds  blow  freely.     What  is  much  more  mischievous  is  the  agitation 
whicli  goes  on,  aa  in  the  movement  for  revising  the  constitution  of  the 
Final  Court  of  Appeal,  heating  men's  minds  «'itii  pfiiisiou  and  alarm 
filling  them  with  spect^d  phantoms  of  coming  danger,  "prognosticat- 
ing a  whole  year  of  sects  and  schism,?  ]"  but  which  never  mustei-s 
courage,  or  takes  definite  shape^  to  come  to  Parliiiment  aud  say,  "This 
is  what  we  want.     Here  is  the  biU  we  wish  to  pass  into  a  law.     Will 


5^4 


The  Cojttcmporary  Review. 


you  accept  the  principle  on  tlie  second  reading,  and  let  it  j;o  in' 
conmiittee  ? " 

It  is  wiJh  a  y\*\\\'  to  auch  a  debate  as  possible — to  temper  tlie  bopta 
or  feara  witli  wbiiJi  men  look  IVnTi-nrd  to  it — to  eatinrnt-e  the  reid  state 
of  tbe  questions  at  i&aiie.  and  to  su^-geat  the  principles  on  whieb  we 
ought  to  .judge  of  t]iem,  that  these  ]i;i^e3  are  written. 

It  is  well  in  such  a  case  to  start.  Mitb  tbu  mrima  dcHcti.  Here 
then  is  the  Consilience  Cittuse,  as  coutmuuicated  by  ^Ir.  Linjjua  to  tbe 
National  Hociety,  on  February  6th,  18<j4  ; — 


^ 


"The  aiikl  comiiiittre"  ff.f.,of  thp  achoota  atteptin/?  tJie  clause)  *'shiif 
1hi  iMniild  to  mnlte  siicK  cinlerfi  as  shftll  pro^nile  for  ruhiiitting  t^i  the  l.«enetits. 
of  the  schools  tlie  'isililroti  cif  p:itenta  not  in  (^uiniiiuuioii  with  the  Church  .jf. 
^England  as  Iiy  Inw  I'^staliliahtd  ;   hilt  sucb  (inli^ra  s-ljall  bo  couiiniMl  to  tl)« 
exL^njption  of  8iich  diiMreit,  if  their  pari^nts  dcsli'e  it,  frum  titU'udjmcM  at  thl^H 
piiblii'  worshiji,  ami  fnjm  tiistmction  in  the  doctriiie-s  Jinil  fominihirJBS  ff  tlw^H 
siiid  l.'huffh,  ainl   shall  injt  otIiGni,"ise  interfere  ivilh  tliti  religious  t^^othiDg 
of  thp  sLiui  scholars,  Tts  fixed  by  tbeae  prrsf  nts,  lui'l  shall  not  authorize  anj 
otlier  ruHgious  inetiuction  to  be  given  in  the  echooL" 


lu  dealing'  "with  this  docuraeut  I  purpose  folkiwiug  nn  order  whic 
however  nafuml  and  obviuus  it  niEiy  seem,  has  not  iilwaj's  Iieen 
observed  by  those  who  have  discussed  it.  I  shall  befj^D,  not  with 
abstract  reasonings  as  to  the  fimctions  of  the  Church  or  the  State,  ant 
the  relations  between  them, — not  with  denouncing  indifferencre  on  t 
sidtt  or  iutoliirance  on  that,  hut  with  the  simple  question,  What  d 
the  Conscience  Clause  mean  ?  \\1iat  will  be  its  probable  or  possibl 
working  ?  What  M-ill  be  the  probable  or  possible  working  of 
school  to  which  it  woidd  have  been  apiilicahle,  but  by  tbe  promotert: 
of  which  it  has  been  rejected  ?  What,  with  these  dnta,  ia  the  judg- 
ment which  true  Churchmen  ought  to  form,  and  the  course  which 
they  ought  to  take,  concerning  it?  Till  wu  have  settled  these  poiats, 
all  declamation  as  to  the  rights  of  conscience,  or  the  dej?osiium  fidri,  is 
but  the  STirplusage  of  an  idle  rhetoric,  dust  thrown  into  nien'a  eyes  U> 
hinder  them  from  seeing  clearly. 


i 

ilM 


P 


Of  the  clause  itaelf  an  official  interpretation  haa  been  givi 
Mr.  Lingen  in  his  letters  (1)  to  the  Rev.  W.  B.  Capani,  nnd  (1^ 
tke  Ilev.  Charles  Craven.*  I  will  deal  with  each  of  these  and  the 
comments  on  it  separately,  lu  the  fomier,  being  called  upon  to  tuMt 
an  extremejcaae,  thrust  upon  huu  as  a  crucial  iijatancc,  and  there- 
fore, howet^er  apparently  invidious,  arguraent^atively  fair,  Mr.  Lin;,'en 
admitted.  (1)  that  under  the  Conscieitee  Clause  "  a  parent  might  rcfpiire 
his  child  to  be  exempted  from  instruction  in  the  AposUt-s'  Creed,  if 
•  Hubbard,  p.  92.    Guardiao^  Siov.  81. 


The  Conscieme  Clause, 


585 


tlip  parent  helonyi-ti  tn  a  emnniiininn  wherein  that  creed  ivas  not 
Tiseil;"  .tirtJ  (2)  tlisit  the  clause  "allows  the  maimgers  to  make  the 
daily  reading  of  the  Bible,  by  every  chihl  that  can  read,  an  absolute 
nile  of  the  sdiool.  \\r  Ioiji;  hr  the  text  of  the  IJihle  is  not  employed  to 
enforce  doctrine  Ti'hicii  fw  hijftothf^i)  ie  thiit  uf  this  Chuir.h  of  Euj^liiiiil, 
hut  ia  not  also  that  of  the  jiarenL"* 

Mr.  Lingen's  letter  was  read  at  the  Norwich  Cliurch  Gonjfress,  ami 
apparently  caused  yvhaX.  i\\  reports  of  French  debates,  is  termed  a 
"  itcmation  vive."  Its  effect  in  one  infitance  was  to  produce  an  instan- 
ttineous  conversion  in  nne  who  till  that  time  had  been  a  staunch 
ulefeitder  *if  the  Conscience  Chiuse.  and  had  stood  tinii  against  rtll  the 
■written  or  sjjoken  apjrunients  of  AruhdeacoiL  Denison.  Archileacon 
Allen,  who  lifid  sent  up  his  card  to  the  President  of  the  Congress  as 
wishing  to  defend  the  clause,  "fe!t"  as  lie  says,  "that  Mr,  Lingen's 
replies  cut  the  ground  from  under  his  ("eet,"  and  like  a  baniateT  who 
finds  his  chief  witness  go  dead  against  hint,  lie  threw  up  hia  brief  in 
dwgust^ 

Tliis  was  the  beginning  of  a  curious  chapter  in  the  history  of  tlia 
]U'o^Te3s  of  error.  Arcluleacrm  Allen,  with  ch(iracten3tic  truthfulness 
and  honesty,  and,  one  h  wna])elled  to  add,  with  chameteristie  im- 
pulsiveness, wrote  at  once  to  the  Times  to  announce  ids  conversion^ 
and  did  so,  thougli  he  liad  itiad,  or  at  least  heard  Mr.  Lingen's  letter, 
on  the  ground  that  it  was  to  the  eflect  that  the  t'ominittee  of  Council 
would  interi">ret  the  Conacteuee  Clause  aa  "  stifj3pitt(/f  a  clei^raan  from 
flj  teaclung  the  Apostles'  Creed,  and  (2)  giving  in.'5trU'Ctiou  on.  a 
passage  of  Scripture  read." 

It  is  possible  that  tiie  Archdeacon  may  ha^'e  meant  that  this  "  stop- 
ping" was  conditional  on  the  express  application  of  the  fathers  of  the 
exempted  children,  but  hin  ]ihraseoloy;y,  if  he  meant  it,  was  singularly 
infelicitous;  and  if  he  dirl  not  meiin  it,  he  misapprehended  Mr.  Lingfsn's 
meaning,  and  missed  tlie  turning-point  of  tho  whole  controversy. 
Taken  literally,  his  woi'tLi  convey  the  irapreHsitin  that  the  Ci">nscience 
Clfiuse  forhiila  the  instruction  specified  to  be  given  to  any  children. 
Interpreted  by  the  eiTeunwtnuce.^  of  the  cvo-se,  they  at  le-£i8t  imply  ihiit 
it  forbids  it  to  l>e  given  to  auy  dissenting  ehihlreu. 

The  next  stage  is  a  more  serious  and  sui^jrising  one,  Sir  John 
Coleridge,  reading  Archdeacon  Allen's  letter,  and  without  waiting  to 

*  I  cannot  eutiroEv  ngcGD  -with  Hr.  Oalsli^y  [p.  29),  tlint  the  CoDKiociue  Olausc  "bluiie" 
the  BiAiilgL'tti  to  this.  It  would  have  done  so  tnd  the  Niitioniil  Satiety  l»ccn  able  to 
iic«>pt  ihfl  ciaiiao  (lb  (ipplicnlile  to  schcMls  ia  unioo  wth  it,  ot  modiflod  its  tc^rma  of  iin;3ii 
eo  u  to  axeK  it ;  but  oa  it  u,  in  buLooIh  not  eo  in  uuion,  the  uther  ulaua^a  li'KTe  ikfi  rcli- 
gioiu  tvactunj;  uuidtT  tliu  central  of  thu  tler^j'mjia  ui  thtf  paciaL,  und  that  luny  tiLku  ibo 
form,  of  dttily  Bible  K-$8on4  (ir  iiliI,  The  nltt'jTiiLtive  clauge,  usud  in  tlii>  iJdei'  trust- Jpadi, 
and  given  by  Mr.  Clatley  (p.  22),  toutainpd  a  qKcific  proiitinn  for  such  Ichbohs. 

■f  The  itfllics  Lere,  and  ia  Sir  Juhn  CuJeriiige's  letter,  am  mine. 


5S5 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


r 

r 


see  tlie  documents  to  wlilcli  it  refeiTgi],  without  Inoking  (we  ni 
believe)  Ui  the  ttxt  of  the  Conscience  C'lmise  itseli'  to  s^ee  whetti 
such  an  iiit<irpirotatioTi  were   even    possible,   %*Tit«s  a  letter  which 
appeared  in    the   G-uardian  of  OctoVier  11.      He  adopts  the  Ai-cli- 
deacon's  statement,  luid  expands  it,  sis  an  inaccnrsite  statement  ie  si 
to  be  expanded,  liy  filling  up  its  omiasiona.     "1  am  al'raid,"  he  sa, 
'■  that  we  mnst  take  Mr.  Lingen  as  aasertiag,  in  ett'ect  at  least,  tM 
tliat  any  clerg'j-nian   accepting  the  Conscience  Clause   i»  jtrohihi 
from  teiiclung  to  the  chililreu  of  Dissenters,  however  numennis  they 
may  be  in  his  school,  and  Jwuvurr  viUhuf  Uwir  jvircuts  uuuf  he,  the 
Apostles'  Cieoil,  nnd  equally  (ram  cspkiniu^^  to  them  the  Htdy  Scrij.- 
tiirea."     Hei-e,  then,  we  find  a  restriction  which  had  been  most  ca 
folly  liraitbd,  liolli  in  text  and  comment,  to  cases  in  which  pnreri 
objectttd,  transformed  iuto  an   absolnte  prohibition   of  i-eligious  it 
atruetion,  even  where  ]iareuta  were  not  only  consentient  but  eagei'l 
tlosirous  of  it 

The  character  of  Sir  John  Coleridf^  is  rightly  held  in  highest  honui 
by  all  who  Ivnow  hiin  peiaonally  or  by  report ;  and  a  atatemeut  folluwi 
by  the  well-known  initial.^  of  that  ctiirv.m  ct  I'fcnernbiir  iicnw/i  led  luett 
to  think  tliat  they  nvv,-  had  a  ^usisi -judicial  expositioa  of  the  rniiaii' 
iug  of  the  L^onsciencii  Clause,  as  tltey  had  before  had,  from  the  sauia 
hi^^h  authority,  a  like  exposition  of  the  National  Society's  terms 
uidon,  and  eontribnted  to  swell  the  tide  of  feeling  against  the  chuif 
so  expounded.  In  jiroportion  as  we  share  that  respect  wo  must 
regret  that  one  whose  career,  if  it  pledged  him  to  anything,  pledged 
him  to  avoid  haste  in  judgiu'i  on  imperfect  data,  shoidd  thus  have 
acted,  in  one  solitary  instance,  inconsist-ently  with  the  tiuiuing  of  liia 
life,  by  accepting  merely  hearsay  evidence.  It  is  even  luoi-e  startlinji 
that,  having  seen  in  extFJiso  the  corresxtondence  which  suyigusted  his 
letters,  and  bud  time  for  looking  at  the  text  of  thu  Cuiis-cituce  Clans 
he  bUouM  adhere  to  the  statement  that,  "substantiidly,  Archdeaci'O 
Allen's  suiiiuiaty  represents  its  effect  with  accuracy."*  It  is  true 
that  he  says  that  if  he  had  seen  it  hetbi-e  be  wTote  his  letter  lie 
might  have  "modified  some  expi-essiona,"  but  the  one  expression! 
which  is  directly  at  variance  witli  Mr.  Lingen's  letter  be  Ji>«s  ui 
modify,  nnd  leaves  Ids  readers  still  to  believe  that  the  children  <»f 
Dissenters  arc  excluded  from  instmction  in  the  Apostles'  Ci^ed  and 
Scripture,  "however  willing  their  parents  may  be"  that  they  sboiild 
receive  it. 

1  return  from  tliin  episoile  to  the  actual  interpretation.  The  apjn-- 
tite  for  the  cheap  amusement  of  liaiting  a  Secretar}'  with  imaginary 
extreme  cases  is  one  widoh  grows  by  what  it  feeds  im,  ami  the 
apparent   success    of   Mr.   C!aj)ain's   movement    stimulated    another 

■  Hubbard,  p.  96. 


Ths  Conscience  Clause. 


587 


\ 
I 


clerfjjTDiatt,  the  Rev,  Charles  Craven,  to  put  insteiiMs  yet  more  in- 
viditms,  "  How,"  be  asks,  "  are  the  manar^era  of  a  school  to  act  with 
the  cliilili'eu  of  pareuts  who  nre  UQiversnlists,  Unitarians,  EiLtioualists, 
Notliiri^riii.ua  ?  Th-e  ywiwwma  vnrha  of  Scripture  are,  in  sucli  causes, 
aa  iiiiiuh  aj^aiiiat  the  convictions  of  the  parents  as  any 'doctrine  or 
ftirmulary '  can  be.  How,  then,  ore  the  riyhts  of  conscience  to  lie 
res(iecteii  ?  May  tlie  chihlren  of  aiich  paiiints,  in  the  preatnce  of  the 
other  children,  put  their  own  sense  upon  the  wonis  of  Scripture, 
or  refuse  to  read  the  Bihle  at  all?  or  are  the  managers  and 
teachers  to  bo  allowed  to  maintain  and  uphold  the  t^hurch's 
'  doctiine  on  these  several  points,  and  to  insist  upun  the  reading 
of  the  Bible  as  a  nece.ssary  part  of  the  school  instruction  ?"  In  hia 
reply  to  this  letter  Mr.  LiuL^en,  though  substantially  repeating  his 
answers  to  Mr.  Ca[>arn,  is  somewhat  nioi-e  diffuse,  and  hardly  as 
definite  and  clear.  There  is,  naturally  emjugh,  an  undertone  of  in'ita- 
tion,  as  of  a  man  who  does  not  like  being  baited,  and  this  leads  him 
to  a  fulness  far  Wyond  the  ottitial  brevity  which  was  all  that  a  letter 
like  Mr,  (Craven's — a  second-hitnd  copy  nf  a  poor  originals-called  for 
or  deserved.  It  woidd  have  been  enough  to  say,  as  in  answering  Mr. 
CajM.ru,  that  the  Conscience  Claii^e  only  authorized  the  parent  to 
claim  exemption  from  any  teaohiug  or  exposition  at  vaiiance  with 
the  tenet.'?  of  the  communion  to  which  he  Ivelonged,  and  that  it  did 
allow  the  managers  to  require  the  attendance  of  all  children  at  the 
daily  reading  of  the  Bible.  He  goes,  however,  beyond  this.  Mv. 
Craven,  with  a  s.tmnge  misapprehen-^ion  of  the  possibilities  if  iutiit- 
pretatioii,  Had  a^ked  whether  children  were  to  be  allowed  to  put  their 
own  Sense,  (^.,7.,  a  Unitarian  nr  Atheistic  (! !)  sense  upon  a  jiassage  of 
Scripture,  in  the  presGnce  of  their  schoolfellows,  and  Mr.  Lingen  ably 
and  distuictly  shows  that  t!ie  terms  of  the  Conscience  Clause  render 
$uch  a  permission  impos.«ible.  It  would  bp  inconsistent  with  the  duty 
of  the  managers  to  the  other  children.  So  foi-  nil  waa  well ;  hut  he 
proceeds  to  meet  the  more  insidious  question.  How  were  the  riifhts  of 
the  pareutV  conscience  in  these  extreme  cases  to  be  respected  ?  anfl, 
after  a  natural  protest  against  the  iuvidiomflness  of  putting  them,  mig- 
geata  an  answer.     He  says : — 

"  It  wuulil  be  iipi^n  to  say,  if  this  princijilc  could  be  corapUed  with  by  no 
other  lueiins,  to  oiil-  of  the  part-nts  whom  you  deRcribn,  'Your  child  need  not 
attend  the  Ilible  or  Cateohiam  lessons.  At  the  hours  when  tlieat  lessons 
are  given,  it  must  stay  away  from  schnol,  oi-  be  employed  at  ao-iind-»n,  aa  the 
nianit^t^ra  may  di'cido.  ...  If  yon  wish  jour  child  to  attend  the  Biblo 
;ipd  Cutechi.^m  k'ssons,  thoy  will  not  be  bi  tho  slifjhtcst  degree  iti.odift&d  hU 
account  of  its  [irest'nce  :  it  must  du  nothing  to  iiiternipt  or  tUscru'dit  them  ; 
Snd  thfi  iituaciBt  tliiit  uan  be  offered  to  you  is  that  your  tliild  will  iiot  bo 
Saquited  tg  join  aitivcly  in  thmiL.' " 

It  will  probably  seem  to  many  readers  that  this  goes  beyond  his 


588  The  Contemporary  RemntK 

letter  to  Mr.  Cnparn,  ami  givea  the  nhjectin^  purent  si  riglit.  to  claim 
exeiiiptinn  even  frotu  Bilile-r&iding  as  distinct  from  exposition.  There 
is,  too,  it  must,  lie  roufessed,  a  slight  anibifjiiity  in  the  wnniing  of  the 
suf^eation.  At  first,  entire  absence  from  the  Bible  as  well  as  Cate- 
chism lesson  seems  recommeaded,  and  then  at  the  close,  the  "  utmost 
offered  "  is  that  the  child  should  not  Iw  required  to  "Join  adivdy'' — « 
plimse  oi'  doubtful  uieamng,  which  might  be  held  to  be  compatible 
■vnth  enlorced  presence,  so  long  as  the  child  was  not  compelled  to 
answer  <jiiestion3  in  a  wny  at  variance  with  its  father's  creed.  The 
really  iiRjinrtant  wonls,  however,  in  this  paKigrtiph  are  those  of  the 
first  clause,  "  It  would  be  open  to  you,"  Mr.  Lingen  says.  That  ia 
one  coiii-so  wliich  the  ConsciO'nce  Clause  would  allow.  He  doea  not 
withdraw  the  statement  that  it  also  allows  the  maiiflgera,  i.r.,  the  paro- 
chial clergy,  to  make  P.ihle-reading  part  of  the  instruction  of  ereiy 
child  in  the  school.  Winch  is  the  wisest  and  best  course  in  such 
cnaea  is  left,  rightly  and  wisely,  to  their  discretion.  The  parent  could 
not  claim  the  exemption,  though  the  managera  may  concede  it. 

We  miiRt  deal,  of  eoui-se,  uot  only  or  chiefly  with  any  comments, 
however  oHicial,  but  with  the  clause  itself;  and  its  terms  lead,  I 
believe,  nnder  the  strictest  possible  interpretation,  to  the  following 
conclusions : — 

(1.)  They  leave  the  managers  of  a  school  accepting  it  unlimited 
freedom  in  requiring  all  C'hurcli  children,  and  all  dissenting  childTen 
whose  parents  do  not  object,  ici  leani  the  Catechism,  or  any  other 
Church  formulary  which  they  may  think  proper. 

(2.)  They  do  not  require  the  religious  teacher,  in  exidaining  the 
Cateehiam  or  Scripture  to  the  children  of  Chnrchnieu,  or  non- 
■ohjecting  Dissenters,  to  suppress,  mutilate,  or  modify  anything  that 
he  may  consider  essential  to  the  statement  of  Christian  truth  as  held 
by  the  Church  of  Kugland,  and  suited  t.o  the  capacity  of  his  pupils. 

(0,)  They  do  rei|uire  tlje  managers  to  exempt  from  instruction  in 
any  given  formulary,  or  the  exposition  of  any  fjiiven  doctrine  aa  con- 
tained in  Scripture,  children  whose  parents  s-prcrfirrrJhf  dbjiect  to  that 
formulary  or  doctrine.  In  the  exti'emest  case  conceivable — so  extreme 
aa  to  be  infinitely  improbable,— that  objection  may  extend  to  tiny  for- 
nnilary  or  the  exposition  o{  any  doctrine. 

(4.)  They  at  least  authorize  the  managers  to  make  the  daily  read- 
ing of  Scripture  part  of  the  instruction  given  to  all  children. 


How  would  such  a  clause  work  ?  In  many  cases,  perhaps  in  Klost^ 
it  would  make  comparatively  little  change,  ftlauy  clergjiuen  ha^'e  for 
yeaT%  admitted  dissMtlng  children;  have  allowed  tJiem  to  attend  their 


^ 


The  Conscience  Clause, 


589 


I 


I 


I 


owii  chapels  on  Snuiiays ;  have  raodiliL^J  the  cati?<Trn'ical  statements  of 
the  Catechifim,  which  frucli  chilf.ireu  coidil  ntit  tnily  utter,  iutu  piitential 
or  future  ones;*  have,  in  very  many  instances,  reft-ained  from  insistitig 
on  their  letirniiig  it  at  all;  have  met  witli  no  ohjections  on  the  part 
of  parents;  have,  with  Ohristiaji  wisdom  and^harity,  eufleavoured  to 
avoid  c-ollision  with  the  peculitir  tenets  of  the  lathera,  and  liave  80 
succee«Ied  eitliBr  in  winninj^'  the  childi-en  to  tlje  Churcli,  oi-  disarniin<i 
Dissent  of  at  lenst  hsilf  it-s  bitterness.  Such  men  Archdeacon  Denison 
lodk?  do^vn  uputi  with  a  tolei'ant  cotidescension,  He  won't  quarrel 
with  thtm,  Of  in  terms  condemn  them,  hut  he  points  to  hin  own 
inflexible  rule  as  the  "move  excellent  way."  Not  a  single  child  of  a 
I>issent«i'  is  admitted  to  his  school,  eiicept  on  the  condition  of  Chnrch 
baptism, — in  most  cases,  i.  f.,  of  a  re-baptiam,  on  the  hj-pothesis  ot  the 
nullity  nf  what  the  highest'  EecleRiastinal  Uonrt.  haa  def^lared  to  he 
^■alid.  When  admitted,  every  such  child  in  compelled  to  leoru  the 
Catechism,  autl  all  that  may  be  taught  aa  implied  in  it,  and  to  attend 
the  pariah  cJiurch  on  Snnday.t  Even  Mr.  Hubbartl,  and  others  who 
do  not  ^o  so  I'iiT  as  their  leader',  ohvinnsly  Innk  on  the  more  moderate 
course  aa  that  of  a  temporizing  policy,  only  justifiable  where  it  is  part 
of  a  system  of  avowed  jiro9elyti3m,J  and  where  every  effort  is  made  tti 
set  the  minds  of  the  chUdreii  H^^ainst  the  distinctive  tenets  of  their 
parents. 

It  is  possible,  however,  that  the  sense  of  a  new  and  secured  right 
mij];ht  lead  Dissentera  to  object  who  had  before  acquiesced.  Mr.  Hnb- 
bard'a  objection  to  the  clause  is  that  it  confers  such  a  right.  He 
would  not  forcibly  exclude  all  dissenting  children  from  Church 
schools,  lint  would  leave  the  clerg\Tnan  unfetterefl  diacretion  as  to 
admitting  them  at  all,  and  aa  tri  the  terms  of  admission.  §     Theti'  foot- 

*  A  good  cuuBG  k  alvrnys  licLtcr  for  gctdug  rid  of  weal:  nrguin^nU,  mu!  I,  Tor  one.  most 
lejcct  BS  Biich  the  reaBoniDg  wbirh  di'funda  the  Consi'ipnifB  ClflaM  as  the  onlywaTorestape 
from  comjiGllang-  DisspnteF*'  thil4reii  t<i  utter  cgtcgiorical  fnliehoods.^ [Sep  Mr.  Itolnn- 
BOn's  fiTidence,  S,794  ;  Hubliord,  ]i.  HS.)  It  u  obviciua  that  the  iili|jht«st  iruesihle)  'i:hany« 
ia  enough  to  meet  the  imAgiiifiry  (IiQiculty,  Such  n  chojigi)  in  such  cuaua  was  conteniplatcd 
by  thellgt  reviwfB  of  (he  I'raj-er-boftk. —  (CaTdireU,  "History  df  Confewnoei,"  p.  357.) 

t  Svidmce,  3,69fi-8,     Buhhord,  p.  70. 

X  "The  T^li^nii  of  tba  Chinch  is  oiiQ  and  indivifiible';  .  .  .  Tiic  teadier  of  that  religiua 
muEt  t«a<;h  it  iu  its  iutugrity,  or  not  m  oLl,"  p,  1^.     3oe  Mr.  Oaklcv's  rv'ply  to  ibie,  p,  42. 

j  Mr.  Hubbard  apppE.!.*  [g  thi?  analogj'  of  other  ftjnuK  uf  privatti  hGnevolqnco.  "Great 
good  ii  done  by  men  n'bfl  ibund  or  support  htMpitaia,  disqietisarips,  and  the  ItJte ;  but  \i  tlic 
Stmto  B'tre  lo  intfrftra  to  give  any  applifunt*  a  legal  titlo  ti>  relief,  tho  meneure  would  he," 
fta  he  describes  Iho  CunstiBnccClnuSE  to  be,  "  tj-nmnitnl  and  nevolutLonajy"  (p.  31).  ftliite 
Ml,  if  tLc  infititutions  iirc  eujiported  by  priyato  liuncvolcnco  only,  nnd  Lord  Graiivillc  (Evi- 
dcace,  t,\hV\  adnuits  as  much  in  respect  of  a'.'lioolii ;  but  Kr.  Kubbnrd  ^I  bordJy  mainlaiu 
that  the  State  ehouM  'n'hqllf  «)■  in  part  found  or  support  ft  benevolent  inatttutieD  iKua 
-n'bich  NoncotLfonuista  lihould  bo  pjirluded.  Foitcy  a  voti^  in  {.'ammittiie  of  Supply  fur  A 
hospital,  tiio  duor  of  vLicb  was  eLut  in  the  Ielcb  of  a  Diga^nttir  with  a  compound  frsiturH, 
■with  the  nilit  a]iokig-y,  nii  the  pnrt  of  ihe  hoiist-snrgcon,  that  thej  '■  were  very  sorry,  hut 
(CoiiJdn't  ccnui>TOEii*f-  a  prioedplf  to  tnt*t  a  jirejiidiM  1 " 


F 


590  The  Contemporary  Review, 

ing  shonlil  lie.  in  Ihe  strictest  sense  of  the  term,  ptecArioua.  Tlwi-y 
mi^'ht  be  aUuiitteii  by  one  incumbent,  refused  by  hia  successor, 
or  mlinitteil  only  on  conditions  as  offensive  to  tte  parent?  as  those 
wliicii  Ai-cLKieact>n  Uenison  imposes.  Witk  a  strange  want  of  power 
to  enter  into  other  lilTen's  i'eelinjjs,  Mr.  Huhbard  (p.  36)  objecw 
to  the  clause  tbfit  "  It  leaves  the  position  of  tlie  Dissentors  untui- 
proved."  Hu  seems  to  think  that  tlie  present  system  meets  their 
wishes  and  their  ■wants.  They  may  get  what  they  ask  for  from  the 
charity  of  some  now.  They  would  not  lie  lictter  for  being  able  to 
demand  it.  They  may  be  fed  aa  paiipers  with  cmmba  that  fall  from 
the  rich  man's  table.  They  would  not  be  better  off  for  a  law  of  settk- 
ment. 

Assuming  this  case  then,  at  a  certain  hour  in  the  day's  work  li 
class  is  called  up,  aay  for  a  Catechism  leaaon.  Six  or  eiglit  boys, 
"whostj  parents  have  oVyected,  are  sent  to  another  mom  or  part  of  iSie 
room.  Tbfy  bavii  to  writo  oiit  liymna  or  texts  whde  tlie  others  iire 
being  tauj^lit.  liut  the  tuacliiug  j;;oe3  on  for  all  others  aa  if  they  were 
not  there.  The  do«^']iiatic  iiistruction  ia  as  fulK  There  is  uot  the 
slightest  indui^emeut  Lo  suppression  of  inodiiication  of  any  part  -jI" 
it,  aa  there  niii^ht  conceivably  lie  if  they  were,  present.  As  a  matter 
of  daily  practice,  the  teiu^her  would  pnOmlily  make  no  reference  V* 
them,  liut  it  woLild  bo  open  to  him  iit  first,  or  at  any  fitting  time 
aftenvanis,  to  explain  to  the  class  the  reaaon  of  the  witiirimwal  of 
their  fompanioii.^.  "  I  teach  yo\i,"  he  mi|;dit  say,  "  what  the  ItihU" 
teaches  yon,  and  what  the  Church  toatdtes.  Tliose  lioys'  fathers  [liink 
otherwise.  The  boys  are  not  to  blame  for  it.  Perhaps  their  fathers, 
too,  are  not  to  blamej  for  thej  were  bron,[?ht  up  t^o  it  when  they  wtre 
boys,  liut  so  it  is.  And  Ijecause  a  father  has,  by  EnjLilish  law  and 
God's  law,  the  rif^ht  to  determine  what  religious  t'eaebiuj;  shall  he 
j^dven  to  his  chihl,  and  beciiuae  it  is  wrouj^  to  set  a  yoiuio  child 
ayainst  the  religion  of  hia  father,  and  eiiually  wrong  to  leave  a  yomif; 
child  imtaught,  they  are  allowed  to  do  something  else  while  1  am 
teaching  you  what  (iod  wills  that  you  shirald  believe  and  do.  Yuu 
are  better  oft'  than  tht.y  are,  Only  dcm't  think  the  worse  of  them,  or 
call  them  uicknami.^^.  Show  them  by  your  conduct  what  Clii'istiiUi 
chilfb«n  and  Clmrch  children  sbonUI  be."  Such  an  explanation 
would,  I  submit,  be  perfectly  natui'al  and  simple^  Would  it  neces- 
sarily tend  to  makw  the  Church  children  indjlferent  to  trutl^  or  iji- 
volve  the  ntlmission  that  all  opinions  were  equally  true  and  equally 
false,  or  tend  inevitably  to  a  pu]*ely  secular  system  of  education  \ 
Wuidd  not  they  feel  that  they  had  something  whiidi  the  others  litwl 
not?  Would  not  even  the  dissenting  children  gain  the  knowledge  tlmt 
the  ilifferencc  between  them  and  the  Church  children  was  sometluu'; 


I 


I 


Teal  ami  tau;^iljle,  matter  for  tlioiiglitfiil  inquirj.'  when  they  grew  up  to 
mauhoDcl?' 

[  Or  take  the  Scripture  lessons.  Here,  ns  I  have  said,  as  reg'anJa 
leadiii",',  there  is  unrebfcrict«il  freudom.  The  teaclier  may  no  aiTaiige 
the  le-sHoiis  that  all  truth  whk^h  he  deems  esaeiitial  may  cnme,  in  the 
words  uf  Scripture,  in  its  due  order.  At  his  discretion  hv  may  either 
ix?«utate  his  teafhing  bo  its  to  meet  tlie  wishes  of  those  who  difl'er 
ill  ijon-essentials,  or,  if  that  j,n>es  agiiiust  his  eonscience,  or  liis  range 

■  of  essential  truths  is  a  very  wide  one,  so  that  he  can  expound  no 
passage  ot"  Scriiiture  without  impin*;ing  on  the  belief  of  some  Dis- 
aeuter,  he  may  exempt  chihliv'u,  whose  piirents  apply  for  sudi  exenip- 

i  t ion,  from  his  expositions  altogether.  In  this  case,  the  clnldren  all 
join  in  the  Scripture  readiuy.  When  it  is  over,  either  sometimes,  or 
uniforudy,  the  exeiujtted  diihlien  withdraw  to  their  texts  or  liymiis 
ngsiiii,  of  are  set  to  UTJt^  from  meniory  the  substance  ot  what  they 
liavc  just  read.  The  eKplanation  given  before  appliiea  here  also.  The 
teacher  min;ht  repeat  it  in  aljnost  the  same  words.  If  there  ia  any 
risk,  it  is  that  the  Cliui'ch  children  should  be  puffed  n]»  with  the 
thonj(ht  of  knowing  more  Ctf  the  Bible,  and  being  better  oil"  than  tliieii' 
neighbours.  In  the  meantime,  what  has  happened  to  the  exempted 
children  I  Have  they  learned  nothing  ?  Have  they  hail  i«>  religious 
teaehing  ? 

Ai-chdeaeon  Denison  and  his  followers  do  not  slirink  from  answer- 
these  fpiestions  in  the  fltfLrmative.  In  their  eyes,  there  m  no 
Teligiona  teaching  in  tlie  wordn  of  pi-ophi^ts  ot  apostles,  or  m  those  of 
Christ  himsell"- — none  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  or  the  Epistles 
of  St.  Paul  or  St.  John — none  in  the  pambles  or  Psalms  or  Proverbs — 
none  in  the  history  of  the  Old  Testament,  or  the  (.lospcjls — none  in  the 
life  of  Christ,  unless  and  until  they  are  interpreted  in  aceoniance 
with  the  teachiny;  of  tlie  Church.t  It  is  on  this  jioint  that  I  am  com- 
pelled to  joiu  iBsue  with  them.  Adniittini;;  as  I  do,  in  common  with 
most  Churehmen  and  Tinn-Clmrehnten,  that  men  need,  the  help  of  an 
interpreter  in  order  to  arrive  at  the  full  msaninj^  oi"  Seriptm-e;  that  n 

•   SiSe  un  inU}rcStilLg  k-ttL-r  by  Mr.  Ctesler  (flukley,  p,  39). 

+  "  The  Cliunli  may  not  niinitter  to  thi:  deiiisum  that  the  reading'  of  tho  IfibV  i.^  tlio 
ramf  thing  with  itarbing  ami  iL-oming  iftligiuus  truth." — (Arehiltucoti  Deniaon,  ltca.'M>ti  -a.) 
"  Culler  the  Con^eionrp  Clmi*.'  .  .  .  it  isperfcLtly  pOMihleor  c^nH■eivallU^  tiiid,  imloeil, 
in  mnny  cases  where  thure  ie  a  largo  proportium  of  DiraeiiU'-ra  I  opprthc-n  J  it  woiiH  hupl'i'ii, 
that  ihcre  wouli!  ho  no  reli^oiw  iiutriKt-iun  in  ihu  school,"" — (Ari^lniv-aiun  Di?iiigon :  Ki-i- 
draiL-c,  3,73!.  See  also  Mr.  Fa^^n'a  anBircTa,  4,SS5-6.)  Hooker's  wcll-knuwn  words, 
LV  The  Church,  as  a  witni^s,  prencht-tb  Ciod'a  itifins  revealt'd  tr\ith  by  reading  piiULiily  llifl 
Si-rjplurc-a'*  ("EccI,  Pol.,"  Q.  t.  19,  |  1),  mip;iit  hove  chfcUed  these  tash  fltatetueiila- 
!olij«'tion,  that  reading  without  espodition  waa  tto  rettj^'lauti  leaching  at  ftU,  then  I'luno 
fruni  tliQ  I'uiitiuu:  btiv  yxtremes  mi'-L't,  and  tliU  id  but  unu  uJ' many  ^ntve  ifuedLJuiia  of 
iheglu^'}'  and  pulity  iu  whitrh  the  ltai:hin^  of  ihu  Vsui;n.b!o  Archdf.'acDa  id  diamstrivully 
oppuiied  to  th«i  of  the  rgjicraLle  and  *'ju,dicioi3q''  l£ix>!ierT 


J 


p 


592  The  Contemporary  Review. 

theologj'  rnnstnicted  even  by  a  nmture  intellect  from  the  Bible  oiilv, 
without  tlie  aid  of  tliat  Christian  traclitinn  which  preserves,  more  or 
lesB  purely,  the  diffused  truth  which  the  Bonks  nf  the  Xew  Toatawient 
presuppoBc,  would  be  iiicomplclji-;  ami  that  tlie  incompleteness  would 
be  in  the  direct  ratio  of  the  imnmtunty  of  the  mind  so  taught, — 1  am 
not  yet  prepared  to  afilrm  that  the  religious  Ivuowledge  so  pjiinetl  is 
necessarily  or  commonly  a  nullity.  Of  parts  at  least  of  that  teach- 
in^',  we  must  reuollect  that  they  presupiroaetl  little  or  notliin^; — wtre 
spoken  to  m^u  as  urttfiiTf^ht.  or  more  so,  than  the  cluldreu  of  an 
Enjilish  vTlIa{:,^e.  If  it  lie  impossible  to  explain  tLie  Ten  L'ommantbnent& 
folly  without  wounding  the  conscience  of  a  Iiiseent*r,  the  letter  of 
the  Commaadmeuta  is  at  lesst  intellij^ilile  enough.  If  the  .Seminu  im 
the  Moimt  conveys  no  relifjioua  t«nchiug  noM-  (as  Lord  Ashley  main- 
tftined  irk  183!>,  and  Archdeacon  Denisou  maintains  now),  unless  it  is 
supplemented  by  the  Nicene  Creed,  it  follows  that  it  conveyed  ul' 
reliy;ion8  teachiuy  when  it  wa^  delivered  to  the  nudtituilu  Uy  wlwni 
neither  that  Creed,  nor  the  trnthe  embodied  in  it,  were  or  could  be 
linu^vn.  No:  the  Sieed  sown  may  requin?  ttmny  conditions  for  the 
pTotUictiou  of  a  full  harvest,  Jt  lufty  be  choked  l»y  tares  or  Hhorus, 
or  grow  too  quickly  or  too  rankly,  but  the  word  of  God  is  sttU  Ou 
seed;  and  if  it  fall  upon  the  good  Lrround,  it  may  bring  forth  fruit  to 
life  eternal,  and  the  nuiml  discipline  and  even  mental  training'  ol"  a 
good  school  may  Jo  much,  apart  from  all  dogmatic  teaching  (however 
true  and  precious  that  teaching  may  be),  to  make  the  ground  jj«xk1. 

In  ench  cases — those,  if,,  where  the  clause  is  freely  accepted  and 
honestly  acted  on, — something  of  a  kindly  relationship  is  established 
between  the  pastor  of  a  parish  and  the  lambs  of  the  wandHnug  sheep' 
They  are  no  longer  mere  "  little  lieathen,"  ngidnst  whom  he  shuts  the 
door  of  his  schoolroom  mth  the  cursory  remark,  that  he  is  "very 
sotry,"  but  "can't  help  it,"  He  too  can  ,say,  "Other  sheep  I  have, 
that  are  not  of  this  fold;"  and  there  is  some  chaucc  of  their  lieing 
brought  even  to  the  fold  of  which  he  is  the  appointed  ahepherd 
Their  parents  will,  at  least,  t>e  likely  to  respect  hint  for  his  faithful- 
ness at  once  to  Jiis  own  Cliurch  and  to  his  compact  with  theni 
There  will  lie  no  ill-will,  auapieiun,  prejudice,  to  come  between  them 
and  liis  witness  of  the  truth. 


m. 


« 


let  us  see  how  the  refusal  of  the  Conscience  Clause  is  likely 
in  its  turn  to  work.    "  Trust,"  says  Mr.  Hubbard,  "  to  the  Jisvretiuii 

*  See  the  necount  of  Mr.  FowIb'h  si'hoolj  at  Eoitnii  [Oakley,  p.  33),  ai  an  iUuttniIJnii 
cf  what  may  bt  titme  In  thin  way.  !f  ttel  jnumtiTe,  in  tudaij-  ca»e-9,  itirs  luiai  to  KAtb  Mil 
ang:er,  aa  letters  in  iho  Giiantiau  from  ojiponenta  of  tlie  Cfinseipnre  Clflusc  c&inpfJ  one  U 
tliluk  it  doc'B,  there  art.-  at  k-Oi^t  foms  in  whom  it  kintties  the  glav  ota  new-  hop-:. 


T)k  Conscietice  Clause. 


593 


[■ud  kiudness  ol"  the  cler^^y.  Don't  f<;tter  tbem  in  any  case  with  rules. 
(If  tliey  practically  admitted  dissenting  children  heforej  they  will  do 
%■<}  stilL"  Well,  we  will  assurue  tlie  most  favourable  h^Tiothesis. 
,The  inctimhtJiit  has  not  reached  the  Archdeacon's  eoimsels  of  petfec- 
ion.  Children  are  admitted  without  enforced  re-btiptisiu-^are  not 
ftirced  to  attend  Cliurch,  or  Siamlay  schoola — are  not  ctimptJIed  to 
pent  tlie  CfitecUisni,  either  iii  itii  categorical  or  hypothetictJ  forma — ■ 
3ive  the  kind  of  religious  teaching  which  lays  streaa  upon  the 
its  in  which  Dissenters  and  the  Church  agree,  not  on  those  in 
li  tlic}-  clilier.  So  far,  there  i»  no  great  evU.  Few  Disseutera,  it 
may  be,  would  in  such  a  case  wish  to  withdraw  their  chiUiren.  Tho 
sense  that  lie  \a  dejiendent  upon  the  bounty  of  the  clergyman  may 
make  the  dissenting  pweut  more  compliant;  and  thoae  who  value 

I  Bach  csompliance  may  score  it,  if  they  will,  to  the  credit  side  of  thu 
Bccount.  lliit  the  worth  of  a  system  is  seen  not  when  it  is  woi'ked 
out  by  those  who  do  not  accept  its  jirineiplea^  bat  wlieii  it  is  in  the 
hands  of  tliuBe  who  do.  A  change  comes.  An  incumbent  arrives 
with  a  higher  standanl  of  duty  and  a  more  setisitive  conscience.  He 
caiiiiut  du  violence  to  that  couacieuee  to  meet  the  "prcjiEdice"  (as  Mr. 
■  Hubbard  always  puts  it)  of  dissenting  parents.  Their  children,  if 
langht  anything',  must  be  taught  a  thwology  which  leads  tbeui  to  loijk 
on  tlieir  pments  as  involved  in  the  g;uilt  of  heresy  and  schism,  for 
H  the  Cliurch's  teaching'  is  "  one  and  indivisible."  Tben  the  dissenting 
parents  have  to  choose  between  three  courses : — (1.)  If  they  are  luke- 
warm and  di3limie.st-,  they  may  allow  tlieir  children  to  be  sn  taught 
for  the  sake  of  the  secidur  instruction;  and  then  the  Church  has  the 
ehance  of  proselyt-es  of  the  Mortara  type,  bribing  Mortara  i^.re  to  bo 
accessor}'  tu  the  kidnapping  of  his  child.  In  tbis  caso,  the  children 
come  to  understand  the  reason  of  their  parents'  conduct,  and 
leam  that,  as  men  pive  up  a  less  good  fox  the  sake  of  a  greater,  tlia 
secular  knowledge  for  which  I'eligious  couviction  has  been  sacrificed 
is  iuliaitely  the  more  precious  of  the  two*  (2.)  They  may  allow  tlieir 
children  to  be  taught  in  this  way  for  the  sake  of  the  secular  know- 
ledge, and  yet,  having  convictions  of  their  own,  trust  to  counteracting 
the  theolog}'  of  Anglicanism  by  stronger  doses  of  Dissent  at  home; 
and  then  the  chihlren  grow  up  between  the  op^wsing  blasts  of  doctrine, 
lmd*;r  cyiiiUtions  in  which  scepticism,  brutal  or  acute,  is  all  but 
iue%'itable,  in  which,  if  there  \%  not  scepticism,  there  must  bu  the 
lyiijg  liypocrisy  of  saying  at  school  or  at  linme  that  wbicb  they  du 
not  believe.     (3.)  Lastly,  if  parents  are  honest  and  tlioi'ou;j:h  iu  their 


Baoon 


*  I  remember  oa  inatniutiFU  pasBago  in  a  letter  uf  Madamo  il<>  MotQk-nan'a,  Sh«  ia 
wriliiig  tSXet  the  revocatiou  of  the  Edict  oi'  Nactoa,  ojiii  lanjeats  the  large  niinilier  of  aimti- 
lated  coDTerBione  that  followed  on  it ;  but  "  at  all  eTenls,"  she  add*,  with  devout  thank- 
fuliien,  "  ve  HhnU  gam  the  hiuIa  of  tho  children."  Whiit  thi>y'  wthj  ^U[^d  t<j  ^-os  shDvu 
|ii)  i!iO  hiatun-  i>E  the  3UL-ei-33oi,'6  of  the  Host  Chriitinn  King  whose  coaaiaonce  she  ^idtd. 


594  T^^  Contemporary  Reviezv. 

lielief,  if  tliey  belong,  i.  e.,  to  tlie  class  of  Dissenters  whom  we  oiigliL 
most  to  respect,  they  will  refuse  to  barter  their  biitbrigbt  of  religious 
fr^oTii — ^the"(:onscieiice"'which  is  stigmatized  as  "prejiulice" — fortlie 
mesa  of  pottage  of  secular  etiucation,  and  will  withdraw  their  ehiltlren. 
And  then  there  are  two  alternatives.  Kither  the  children  remaiu,  er 
hifpolki-M,  without  iiiatniction  of  any  kind,  and  are  left  to  the  cham-es 
oi  brutal  vr  fiiiiatical  ignorance ;  of  else  the  liberality  of  richer  dis- 
senting neighbuurs  sets  up  a  school  of  their  own,  and  a  denomina- 
tional school  is  established  precUely  under  the  circumstances  where 
it  enters  most  iatti  rivalry*  with  the  Church,  and  is  most  likely  to  he 
conducted  in  the  spirit  of  antagonism.  It  remains  fot  those  wlio 
urge  the  abandonment  of  the  Conscience  Clause,  and  are  prepared  to 
act  un  the  principles  on  -which  they  rest  their  arfjiiments  agaitist  it,  to 
show  either  that  such  results  are  not  probable,  or  that  they  aie  l»ene- 
fieial  to  the  Church  aud  nation. 


IT. 


4 


h 


There  remain,  however,  some  distinct  ai^iments  urged  by  Jlr. 
Hiibhard  aud  Archdeacon  Peiiison,  which  have  still  to  be  nciticeil.  Tlie 
latter,  indeed,  has  no  lesa  than  seventeen  distinct  reasons  ^^  hich  "  never 
have  been  answered  aud  nevtir  can  ha,"  and  which  he  nails  up  like  a 
scamd  Luther  on  the  door  ot"  the  ?rivy  Council  OHice.  1  nwn  that 
for  the  most  part  I  am  distrustful  of  reasons  when  tliey  j^ot  beyond 
the  moderate  limit  of  a  dozen.  Witli  a  catena  of  authorities,  nr  a 
corivergitij;  series  uf  evidence,  number  may,  of  course,  add  weight. 
I!ut  with  major  prt^mLsses,  most  of  which  hover  in  the  shadowy  regioa 
of  theories  of  Church  and  State,  and  are  sometimes  tniisuls  and  some- 
times jmnidoxes,  wiMi  minor  premisses  seldom  given  and  Btill  more 
seldom  proved,  a  detailed  ejtamiuation  of  the  seventeen,  us  it  would 
carry  me  beyond  the  limits  wliich  I  must  here  assign  to  myself,  so 
also  it  woiUd  be,  I  believe,  weary  and  unprofitable  work  for  my  reader?, 
If  any  one  should  think  that  I  am  hut  a  recreant  knight  in  fearing  tn 
face  such  formidable  foea,  I  can  refer  them  to  Mr.  Oakley's  ahle 
analysis  of  the  whole  batch*  as  a  prnof  that  they  can  he  and  have  l)eeu 
answered,  and  that  if  I  do  not  attempt  to  repeat  the  pnxess,  it  is 
because  there  is  no  profit  and  little  glor}-  in  slaying  the  slain,  or  hit- 
ting even  arguments  when  they  are  down.  T  contf^nt  juvself  wiili 
condensing  the  chief  reasons  in  which  Mr,  Hubbard  and  tlie  jVrch- 
deacon  agree,  and  in  which,  tlierefore,  the  majority  of  their  folluwers 
may  reasonably  be  supposed  to  concur. 

(1.)  It  is  allied  that  the  introduction  of  the  Conscience  Clause  is 
a  "  distinct  breach  of  the  contract  between  the  Slate  and  the  Chnrch  " 
(Evidence,  3,689,  3j776),  of  the  "definite  basis  and  express  under- 

•  Oakl<?j-,  jip.  35—08. 


J_h 


The  Conscience  Clause, 


595 


■rgo 


I 
I 


I 


stuudiiig "  between  the  Committee  of  CouucU  and  the  ^ntionsil 
ciety  as  represetiting  the  Church  of  England,  In  this  apparently,  as 
in  most  othev  cttges  which  the  expemnce  of  life  hrinj^g  hei'ore  us,  when 
men  talk  cif  "  a  couttact  o-nd  undftratandinr;"  it  will  he  found  that 
they  mean  the  latter  only,  and  that  it  leads  beloie  lonff,  with  an  inevtt- 
ftlde  fatality,  to  a  jH-i^ftuiderstanding.  Evidence  iDf  a  compact  between 
twa  bodies  cajiable  of  coiitKicting  with  each  other,  and  binding  each 
other  in  perpetuity,  there  ia  nut,  and  in  the  nature  of  the  case 
cannot  be.  An  executive  officer  cannot  bind  liia  successors  to  general 
principles.  There  is  no  foiimcdnt  Ijotween  the  Council  Office  and  the 
Church  of  England.  The  understanding  aiiiouuts  to  this.  The  Com- 
mittee of  Council  were  appointed  "  to  extend  the  beuefita  of  education 
to  as  large  ii  mnnber  of  Uer  Majeaty'g  subjects  as  possible  consLsteutly 
with  respect  for  the  riglitg  of  conscteuce."  Tliey  adopted  (wliether 
wiUin^dy  or  reluctantly  is  not  now  the  question)  what  is  called  the 
ilenominational  system  as  the  best  means  of  attaining  tliia  end.  It 
was  better  (absolutely,  or  under  existing  circumstances)  in  the  same 
place  to  have  one  Church  school^  and  one  open  to  Disseuters,  than 
to  attempt  a  mixed  or  purely  secular  system.  But  there  arose  the 
cttiiu&  miiissus  fif  a  pai'iah  in  which  the  number  of  eliildrcu  was  too 
sniall  to  Justify  gtanta  tu  two  schools.  How  wero  they  in  that  case  to 
act  on  their  comiuis.8iou  ?  To  refuse  the  grant  wuidd  be  to  exclude  all 
ils  inhabitauta  from  the  benefit  of  their  operations ;  to  give  it  uucou- 
ditionally  would  be  to  place  it  in  the  [»ower  of  the  mauagtrs  t-o  e.KctuiJe 
eome.  or  to  admit  them  on  conditions  that  trampled  on  theii"  freedom 
of  conscience.  How  coidd  they  jn-ovide  for  the  new  case  excejit  l>y  a 
new  clause  T*  The  only  comjiacts  tbey  had  made  were  with  the  several 
founders  of  ppevious  schools.  Which  of  those  compacts  have  they  set 
BsLde  ?  What  was  there  in  any  Act  of  I'ailiamunt  or  Minute  of  their 
own,  or  document  signed  and  sealed,  to  prevent  their  making  from 
time  to  time  new  regulations  for  the  better  execution  of  their  duties? 
If  the  regulations  wore  I'Uni  iHrca,  as  against  lnw,-f-  the  courts  were 
open.  If  within  the  law,  but  unconstitutional  in  character,  it  was  in 
the  power  of  any  person  aggrieved  to  appeal  to  Parliaineut.  A  griev- 
ance which  shrinks  froni  appearing  theto,  und  pr&fers  the  maarj^uemde 
dress  of  a  gravamen  in  Convocation,  is  not  likely  to  be  a  very  sub- 
stantial one, 

(2.)  It  is  urged  that  the  one  duty  of  the  Chnreh,  and  therefore  of 
lier  mioiatera,  in  the  v^-ork  of  education,  is  to  train  her  own  children  in 
the  one  faith,  and  bring  others  to  it.  "  Other  knowledge  without  that 
one  faith  is  an  evil,  and  not  a  good.  To  consent  to  give  the  one  without 
the  other  is  to  be  uufaithful  to  the  highest  duty  of  a  Christian.     In  a 

*  Now,  i.f;  u  applied  to  Rdioola  in  coatieclion  nitii  the  Church,  of  En^Uiui.  In 
many  othore  \i  had  b«cii  used,  ia  Bubstasce  umi  cTcn  in  terms,  from  the  6.Tst.  Ste  OiJi- 
Icj*,  p.  3-  t  Archdeacon  Senuon:  EyidencOj  3,761- 


5g6  The  Contemporary  Reviciv. 

minister  of  tlio  Church  it  involves  a  vialfitiou  of  his  onliimtion  vows" 
(Evid.  3,787).  Tliti  principle  thus  aaaerted  is  proclfumed  with  a  solenmity 
that  gives  it.  with  tlioae  ^^lio  are  the  slaves  of  hi-rh-soiindiiig  words, 
an  aluiust  axiomatic  character.     There  must  be  something  veiy  Lad  in 
what  is  so  dytiouuoeil,  and  they  would  rather  avoid  the  riak  of  having 
aiij'tliing  to  do  with  it.     When  we  look,  however,  into  the  formifialile 
luttjyr  pfeiiiiss,  "we  tind  thttt  it  amounta  tu  this,  tliat  it  is  the  duty  of 
the  Church  aud  her  iiiijiisters  to  do  nothing  unless  they  can  do  iiU; 
and  that  is  nut  an  axioiii,  and  breaks  doiiVTi  utterly  when  we  test  it  liy 
;itialoi^ou9  instances.     Animal  life,  without  reliu;^iou,  is  hardly  a  greater 
blessiug  than   intellectual    knowledge.      Health  for  thoae  who  lUtf 
witlinut  I'eligion  do&s  but  niultiply  powers  and  activities  of  eWL    I)ue3 
it  follow  that  tlm  rebel'  of  the  poor  in  workhousas  and  hospitals  is  n 
work  entirely  swcular,  which  it  is  wToug  for  a  cler^'j'"man,  and  in  a  less 
degree  for  any  ClLristiau  to  8up])0i1:.,  unless  provision  is  made  for  3C- 
cui'iug  that  all  wlio  are  relieved  aie  aoimd  in  the  I'aith  wlieu  they  nre 
adudtted,  or  arc  brouglit  to  it  during  their  stay  ?     Must  we  never  giie 
soup  ujdcsB  we  also  j^^ivti  tmcts  'i     l!ut  if  tliis  ia  not  bo^  tlien  why  arv 
the  life  aud  health  of  the  mmd  lower  aud  less  worthy  than  those  of  the 
body?      Is  it  not  a  far  truer  statemunt  of  the  eaUiiig  of  every  Cliristiau. 
and  therefore  of  tlie  Chriattau  minister  in  thi;  highest  degree,  to  be 
ready  to  do  all  in  mising  the  life  of  body,  soid,  and  spirit,  aud  to  do 
what  he  can;  doing  tliat  little,  if  hindered  by  the  rights  of  ntbcr  meu, 
ur  the  laws  of  Ids  country  or  bis  Chui-ch,  "  not  grudgingly  or  of  ne- 
cessity," seeing  that  here  also  "  God  loveth  a  cheerful  giver,"     Here, 
at  all  events,  Archdeacon  iJenison  and  his  i'olla'^^'e^a  must  go  I'arther 
If  it  is  wrctng  iii  the  Church  tu  help  tu  give  knowledge  without  the 
"  one  faith,"  because  such  knowledge  is  an  evil  and  not  a  good,  tbeu 
it  is  wrong  in  llie  State  also,  so  I'ar  as  it  has  a  Clu-istian  diameter,  aud 
is  identifieil  Tvith  the  Christian  fuitli.     It  ought  to  do  no  moiB  tibaii 
barely  tolerate  the  existence  of  Dissenters.     To  help  them  to  educate 
their  ciiddreu  in  their  own  way,  is  the  lirst  ste]i  towanis  national 
apostasy.     It  were  better  for  the  country  that  they  should  grow  up 
in  brute  ignorance  than  leam  reading,  writing,  arithmetic  aud  liavc 
the  chance  of  applying  their  knowledge  to  reading  the  Bible  and  tht; 
"  Pilgrim's  Progress."     Children  brought  up  on  auy  system  but  that 
of  the  "  one  and  indivisible  faith"  are  on  the  way  to  be  only  "clever 
devils"  (Evid.  3,759).     A  reductio  ad  abnurdiim  is  never  a  pleasant 
argument  to  use,  but  those  who  start  with  paradoses  as  pruuiisae'^ 
must  not  be  surprised  if  they  land  in  insanities  as  condvisious. 

The  op]>o3ite  principle  hag,  at  any  rate,  l>een  acted  on  iiaely, 
and  without  enactments,  in  many  parochial  schools,  in  a,  tliousauii 
graminar  and  piTjprietaiy  schools  throughout  the  country,  in  the 
Stetropolitan  CuUoge  with  which  1  am  myself  connected,  and  which 
has  not  commonly  been  cousidercd  as  i\-anting   t:i   l.>ynlty  tu  tiic 


The  Conscience  Chusc, 


597 


I 


ChurcB,  or  giiideil  imder  ita  past  and  present  Principals  by  men 
indiflerent  to  religious  truth.*  It  was  the  opposite  praatice  which 
Bishup  TllciiQfield  recnjraiseil  aa  legitiitifite,  "with  any  tatitudu  that 
Dissenters  might  wisli,"  adiiiittiog  all  deiKtiiiinationa,  not  cxchnUnff 
JewSj  though  lie  rehised,  with  a  uhnTauteristic  "sic  vdo"  to  agree  to  it 
as  part  of  on  Act  of  riu'liaiuent.-f-  It  is  the  (opposite  principle  which 
Lord  Derby   speaks  of  as  "  sound   and   refisonable,"  "  iiriiting  strict 

lerence  to  the  doctrine  and  discipline  of  the  Church  of  linjiland 
"with  a  judicious  aud  wise  toleration.''^  Lastly,  tn  refer  to  one  who, 
iu  hii  freedom  from  all  heat'  and  paaaionate  partisanship,  deservedly 
cymiiiands  the  respeet  of  all  thu  parties,,  none  of  which  can  claim 
him — it  is  the  u]i]'uaite  principle  which  the  Archbishop  of  Dulilin, 
haviug  act«d  on  it  for  yeai's  in  a  Loudon  C'ollej^e,  piirijoses  ti.)  tjike 
ae  the  groundwork  of  one  which  he  hopes  to  found  in  Ii-eland.§ 
Por  the  system  Ijused  on  tliat  principle  even  Sir  Johti  Coleridge 
admits  that  many  "  piona  peraoua  may  iinil  ji  itjason  sattst'aetory  to 
their  own  ccmscience,  though  it  escapea  liim,"|| 

Mr.  Hubbard,  liowever,  appears  in  what  some  will  tliink  a  new  chii- 
racter,  as  the  defender  of  re!if,aoiis  freedom.  He  drjts  not  blame  those 
who  thus  act  of  their  r»wn  free  will.  He  even  goes  so  far  a.s  to  say  that 
Arehdeacon  Deniflou  "  finds  no  fault"  with  them;  but  he  objects  to  any 
clause  in  a  foundation  deed  making  it  part  of  the  perjietuid  constitution 
of  the  schools.  Authority  and  reasoning  seem  to  hjin  tti  j,'o  no  fmther 
than  idacing  the  principle  in  (jueation  amrmj^  what  the  Jesuit  castiista 
called  "  probable  opinions,"  and  he  contends  that  it  is  "  tj-ronnieal"  to 

*  I  (Loiiut  ehriiik  fi'Hiiii  compnring; the  pnii^lirp  with  i:tiD  piindploof  whieh  it  ii,  t  belii-vv, 
tlio  tniD  B^cpuiirat.  'fltti,  as  loriually  sUiU-d  in  the  CoUegy  Ciileiiitar,  vuuii  tbua: — "TUat 
cve?7  irjfiTt'Ki  gf  ■,':Qneiiil  tctiii^niicin  for  llie  ynutli  pf  n  ChriilidD  com ra unity  otighl  Iu  conipriw 
iriKlmiiiioa  in  tbe  Clmsttaii  relij^iMi  ■.■  nn  iinliBpt'iimldp  pnrt ;  whhuiit  wblch  the  tt(;(]ui(ii1ion, 
ofothcrbranclieHrirknuwIi^jii'  will  li@  tiJiadum'F  ciPitliHrtu  the  happin<?sHol:'thH  iadiviiiiinl  nor 
Ihc  «'clfure  of  tUu  Stale."  Jn  uo  part  of  oUr Ey^U'in  do  wo  omit  that  instrucliuu.  It  t'oHiiB 
part  of  evvi'v  cottijilole  tourjc.  Wu  ni  far  Ik-op  our  wiTntas  thai  wo  look  on  olJici*  know- 
Ifdgp  vttbniit  it  0!  leaving  the  "  haii]jinesa  of  Uio  indiviilual "  (I  iidopt  the  kn^iagf!  of  thu 
(lociiiiiDHt)  niLd  "thi.'  WL'lfare  of  the  Stale"  incomplete.  But  having  doiic  this,  flierdri-'t'i* 
attiinan.  Wit  dg  not  draw  from  it  the  infpreaqg  that  it  i«  tiSWntiaH}'  I'vii  for  a  Dis5ontt!r'« 
ioii,  a»  »\ich,  lo  li'iirn  Euclid  or  read  Thiity<Iide«.  Wt  Ih-Uuvh  it  to  be  bctttr  for  him  tu 
k-iim  them  from  Cbriuliati  niL-n,  mid,  so  fur  as  Ihf  two  come  into  contaL-f,  nn  Chri»liiin  |iriri- 
cigiles.  Wi!  will  not  sliut  him  out,  and  by  *"i  doing  driv-e  liioi  into  antngonistii.  Wc  hftvo 
adopt.-d  thiB  fystctii  Npuntane^iurly,  mid  it  wvii-k*  wnll.  If  ili..-  SUite  wete  to  aid  i«  I  should 
huld  ttiui  it  h\i\i  a  ri^ht  to  uujjiLgit  ii4  to  lunkit  the  «y>t<?»i  pfnniiucut. 

t  L>ird  RiieGcll'ii  t-'viik-iirt;,  S.'J'SK.    ISishup  DUiuifiold'd  Spci^b^  JiiJy  &,  IfiS'J, 

X   Spfwffh  at  Liverpool,  Oct.  lOlL,  ijuoled  in  "Onkl^y,**  p.  67. 

^  '■  Sutji  a  riiUegw,  lo  nuectiiil,  bLoiiM,  ns  I  conceive,  know  no  other  npUgious  leaching 
Iiut  that  of  thi^  Chnri.-b,  bi^t  at  the  same  time  ahoiild  IVuelj'  admit  and  invile  those  of  other 
enniiiiUtiioti«  to  l)raflt  by  »»  mndi  of  what  it  alfertd  ai  eomcitnl iunali^  Ihey  ttiuld."  — 
("  I'rimnry  Chargf),"  p.  20.)  The  Anhbiahvip,  for  eleven  years,  lilluJ  thu  officu  uf  I'lintiiml 
and  I'rofussor  q{  Divinity  in  liui^en'.i  Uo]lfg<F,  London,  whoru  Wi!  hdvu  nil  along  apon- 
tuwi-vualy  ntted  on  ihu  prini-iplo  of  llie  Cimitienee  ClmiB?.  Of  this  ctiiltga  ihri  iiisliop  of 
Luiidun  is  tx  officio  Viutor.  ||  Jitter  tn  QaardtuH  of  Qct,  11,     llHl>lu]'d,  p.  04. 

VOL.  L  2  R 


598  The  Contemporary  Review. 

fetter  the  consciences  of  successive  generations  of  clei^ymen,  and 
compel  some  to  do  wliat  they  look  upon  as  siofiil.     The  answer  to 
this  is,  I  believe,  simple  and  obvious  enough.      Legislation  cannot 
bend  to  the  possible   extravagance  of  a  conscience  unhealthily  or 
falaely  scrupulo\is ;  and  the  weight  of  authority  in  this  instance,  over 
and  above  the  judgment  which  the  Legislature  may  form  on  the 
facts  or  principles  of  the  case,  is  enough  to  prove  that  a  healthy 
and  enlightened  conscience  need  not  be  offended.     And  if  so,  and 
the  practice  be  necessary  or  desirable,  if  without  it  the  consciences 
of  Dissenters  must  be  wounded  or  their  children  left  in  ignorance, 
then  the  State,  through  Parhament,  or  executive  bodies  acting  under 
the  authority  of  Parliament,  is  justified  in  imposing  the  condition, 
and  wonld  not  be  justified  in  exposing  the  rights  of  Dissenters  to 
the  shifting  caprices  or  morbid  scrupulousness  of  individual  clergymen. 
May  I  remind  the  two  champions  of  Church-rates  that  it  is  precisely 
the  fact  of  compulsory  enactment  that  frees  the  conscience  of  suc- 
cessive managers  from  a  false  and  perplexing  position  ?    They  argue 
(and  in  part,  though  not  entirely,  they  argue,  I  think,  rightly)  that 
Dissenters  have  no  cause  to  complain  of  the  payment  either  of  tithes 
or  Church-rates,  because  they  purchase  or  otherwise  acquire  land  or 
houses  with  the  knowledge  of  the  obligation  thus  connected  with  them 
They  are  not  taken  unawares.    They  come  by  their  own  act  into  a 
situation  in  which,  even  in  the  forum  .of  their  own  conscience,  obedi- 
ence to  the  law  of  the  land  is  a  primary  duty,  and  non-participatioa 
in  supporting  an  ecclesiastical  establishment  is  but  secondary,  and  they 
may,  therefore,  and  ought  to  submit  cheerfully.     So  without  the  Con- 
science Clause  each  clergyman  has  the  difficult  task,  in  each  individud 
case,  of  balancing  and  deciding,  and  by  a  wrong  decision  may  do 
infinite  mischief ;  but  with  it,  it  forms  part  of  a  system  to  which,  as 
a  whole,  he  voluntarily  submits.     He  takes  office,  and  holds  a  living, 
under  this  condition.     Unless  the  law  clashes  with  his  dee^jest  rehgi- 
ous  convictions,  obedience  to  it  is  a  primary,  and  adherence  to  his  own 
tlieory  of  education  is  a  secondary  duty.     If  it  does  so  clash,  as  it 
would  do  with  one  who  accepted  the  "seventeen  reasons"  as  a  new 
creed — the  Encyclical  Letter  of  an  Anglican  pope, — he  must  go  else- 
wliere  and  find  a  position  in  which  he  will  not  be  thus  trammelled. 
"We  may  be  "  very  sorry  "  for  him,  but  it  is  a  less  evil  than  that  he 
shoidd  be  free  to  "  shut  the  door"  of  his  school  against  children  who. 
till  his  arrivr^l,  had  been  admitted,  and  leave  them  to  become  the 
"  little  heathen "  that  he  is  ready  to  call  tliem. 

It  would  be  hard  to  explain  the  success  which  lias  attended  tiie 
mo\'ement  against  the  Conscience  Clause,  were  it  not  that  its  leaders 
appeal  not  only  to  principles  and  convictions  which,  however  mis- 
directed, are  worthy  of  all  respect,  but  also  to  tlie  antipathies,  latent 
or  avowed,  of  their  followers.     I  do  not  chai;ge  all  who  oppose  the 


The  Conscience  Clause, 


599 


I 


CtiQScience  Clauge  with  tliis  feeling,  I  respect  the  characters  of  many 
df  the  most  |«n>mijjent  opponents  tew  hiyhly  to  suppusB  it  possible 
that  it  can  influence  theno.  There  are  at  least  two  lueiiiortible 
msfeiuces  in  ■which  languagL'  used  in  1S;J9.  and  almost  identical 
with  Arfhdeacon  Deuisnn's  now,  has  heen  proveii  to  be  comptttible 
with  the  noblest  temper  and  the  widest  sympathy,  and  the  recol- 
Iwticiu  of  that  langiiaf^e  forhids  the  hasty  judgment  ■\vhieh  -would 
assume  it  tti  be  incompatibla  nuw.  AM  that  I  sfiy  is,  that  as 
indiJference  to  truth  riiay  assume  the  garb  of  liberality,  so  tlislike 
may,  and  often  does,  cloak  itself  in  the  tlisgiiiae  of  zeal  for  trut!i. 
That  iherL'  is  such  (intipatliy  on  the  part  nf  a  larger  portion  of 
the  clergy  and  gentry  of  the  Enj^listi  t'huruh  must,  I  imagine,  be 
acknowledged.  Tliey  iuherit  it  from  tlieii*  lathers.  It  ia  the  residuum 
of  the  old  feeling  of  the  Cavnlier  towanis  the  Puritan.  It'^  atmo- 
sphere surroumls  thein  at  houie,  and  it  is  stfengthened  at  Bchool  and 
collej,'e.  Tlie  Disseitt-er  is  Dot  of  their  order,  and  yet  does  not  Imk  up 
to  theui.  He  thinks  for  liiniself.  and  votoa  against  them.  They  do 
not  meet  him  in  society,  and  will  Uike  no  etejis  towards  it.  Over  and 
above  all  conviction  that  Ohurch-rates  are  necessary  to  the  niaintC' 
nauce  of  the  fabric  to  which  they  are  appli\;vl,  they  prize  them  Jia  a 
biulge  of  superiority  and  a  immiis  of  coercion.  And  to  aueh  men 
there  is  something  iiuile  iiitolei-able  in  the  thought  of  being  compelled 
to  admit  any  di.'^aeiit.ing  child  to  whom  they  camiot  say,  "You  aJhali 
learn  the  Catechism ;  yoti  hIiuU  he  taught  that  j'our  parents  are 
heretics."  The  very  thuuglit  of  the  [nescuee  of  a  nonconfornust  boy 
of  ten  under  the  roof  of  their  s<;hools  in  any  other  chamctcr  than  as 
a  catechumen,  is  to  them  as  tlie  greiised  cartrid'^ea  were  to  our  Indian 
8epoys,  The  hrat  effect  is  to  set  their  tveth  on  edge  with  the  sense 
of  a  caste  privilege  tliat  has  been  outnige<l ;  and  if  they  afterwards 
take  up  and  reproduce  senteutioua  sophisms*  or  declamatory  rhetoric, 
as  the  Sepoy*  cried  "  lieligion,"  it  is  rather  because  they  welcome 
them  fts  lielpiug  to  justify  their  antipathy  to  themselves,  than  because 
they  are  the  real  grounda  of  their  convictiotia. 


I  have  thought  it  best  to  deal  with  the  genend  principles  of 
the  rjueation  rather  than  witti  the  special  circunistancea  of  eases  in. 
which  their  application  may  spem  to  have  been  attended  ^vitli  more 
or  less  hardaliip.  To  examine  those  circumstances  would  involve  an. 
extension  of  this  paper  beyond  all  reasonable  limits  ;  and  exoept  so 

*  Th^ie  it,  as  Mr.  QlndstuiiQ  wid  of  ^i-  Bright,  a  "  trantparent  ennieBtueis  nod  suv- 
L-ertty"  in  ArehdcacDn  Dentson's  ipwi^hes  wliith  picJudea  tbo  thowi^-hl  of  alt  suliliistical 
omimta.  But  just  u  the  most  fatal  form  of  typcicrisy  is  Lhiit  irhitli  doos  not  linow  ilMlf  to 
be  bypuirrilifi^,  to  Ike  moal  periloiu  soptiiitms  arc  thoie  in  whicli  t,  man  Iwlieres. 


6oo  The  Contemporary  Review. 

far  as  they  run  up  into  those  principles,  the  only  interest  connected 
with  them  is  that  of  determining  the  personal  merits  or  demerits,  the 
courtesy  or  obstinacy,  of  the  several  parties  to  the  correspondence. 
Full  details  of  the  Llanelly  case,  which  fonns  what  may  be  termed 
the  crucial  instance  of  the  controversy,  may  be  found  in  both  Mr. 
Hubbard's  and  Mr.  Oakley's  pamphlet,  and  the  columns  of  the 
Giutnlian  during  the  past  two  years  would  fill  a  blue-book  with 
complaints  or  narratives  of  a  like  kind. 

Holding  as  I  do  that  the  Conscience  Clause  is  right  in  principle, 
and  that  the  true  freedom  of  the  clergy  would  be  secured  by  willing 
obedience,  not  by  wilful  resistance  to  it, — by  spontaneously  asking  for 
it,  even  where  it  is  not  imposed  as  a  condition, — I  am  not  careful  to  ex- 
amine in  detail  the  several  amendments  which  have  been  proposed  in 
Convocation,  in  Mr.  Oakley's  pamphlet,  and  elsewhere,  as  tending  to  a 
reconciliation.     I  do  not  say  that  such  proposals  do  not  deserve  a  full 
consideration.     I  believe  that  men  of  influence  and  calm  temper  and 
clear  judgment  among  our  leading  clergy  and  laity,  men,  e.g.,  like  the 
Bishops  of  Ely  and  Lincoln  and  Mr.  Walpole,  can  hardly  render  a 
better  service  to  the  Church  than  by  smoothing  the  way  for  a  Iwtter 
understanding.     But  these  are  matters  which  require  a  close  discus- 
sion of  single  words  and  phrases,  and  come  within  the  scope  of  a 
Select  Committee  rather  than  of  an  inquiry  into  principles.     It  may 
be  better,  as  Mr.  Oakley  su<^ests,  that  daily  reading  and  teaching  in 
the  Bible  should  be  in  terms  a  necessary  rule  of  the  school  instead  of 
being  a  practice  which  tlie  clause  permits ;  or,  as  the  Dean  of  Ely 
proposes,  acting  apparently  on  Mr.  AValjwle's   suggestion,  that  the 
managers  should  be  "  bouud "  to  make  some  arrangement  for  the 
consciences  of  dissenting  parents,  but  left  with  full  discretion  as  to 
jthe  kind  of  arrangement.* 

I  confess  that  I  cannot  agree  with  those  who  think  that  the 
managers  ought  to  have  a  right  of  redenii^tion,  so  to  speak,  at  any 
period  after  tlie  foundation,  and  get  rid  of  the  Conscience  Clause,  by 
paying  back  what  had  been  received  as  a  building  grant,  and  refusing' 
annual  grants  for  the  future.  To  do  so  would  be  to  give  an  invidious 
power  to  mere  wealth,  and  enable  a  rich  incumbent,  or  one  backed  by 
ricli  friends,  to  exercise  a  disturbing,  and,  it  might  be,  oppressive, 
power  in  a  parish  which  had  become  accustomed  to  the  working  of 
the  clause,  while  his  poorer  predecessor  had  been  compelled  to 
.ac()uiesce  in  it.  It  would  be  playing  last  and  loose  both  with  the 
tiuvemment  and  the  j>eople.  The  former  would  practically  be  bartering 
Jor  money  the  trust  which  they  exercise  on  behalf  of  the  latter,  and 
selling  a  licence  to  do  what  they  look  upon  as  unjust.    The  proposal 

•  Personally  I  agreo  with  Mr.  Hubbard  {Ouariiiari,  Jan.  31),  that  the  iDdefinit«ina 
of  this  plan  "  would  fail  to  satisfy  a  malcoutant,"  and  "  eatybli^  on  uniailing  medium  of 
agitation." 


I 


I 
I 


ossumes  that  till  riirht'5  and  dntirs  are  purchasealjle  by  inoin?}-,  and 
ffii^ts  tlmt  though  it  maj'  l)e  nptionsil  with  any  man  to  crente  a. 
trust,  the  trust  when  cre.iteiil  involves  n  rauml  reflponsibiHty,  ami  is 
iifit  tieteriniiiable  at.  tlie  o]ition  of  him  who  created  it. 

A  more  reasoimljle  BUgjuestion  is  that  the  Conscience  Clause  should 
vense-  tn  be  eipomtive  when  the  circiimstflncns  whii^li  inidered  it 
necessary  have  altertid,  when  the  number  of  oliihlren  increases  so 
B3  Ui  allow  a  Government  grant  to  a  second  school,  and  a  second 
school  open  to  iJisaentera  is  established,  either  in  that  way  or  by 
pnvate  liberality.  Such  an  arrangement  M'ould  be  strictly  fair  in 
principle,  wnnlil  1«  a  concession  to  the  feelings  of  the  clergy,  and, 
^(iinrdeil  by  some  restrictbna,  to  pi'event  sudden  chani^^es,  dots  not 
seem  likely  to  present  any  great  difficiiltieK  in  its  actual  working. 

I  am  reluctant  to  speak  with  auythinf*  but  sympathy  and  approval 
of  a  proposal  made  by  Mr.  Hubbani  himself  [Gtiftrdinn,  Jan.  31),  as 
"  the  basia  uf  ii  i^ood  tinderstandiny  with  the  Kducatioual  Depart- 
ment."  He  thinks  apparently  that  there  might  be  a  "  distinct  under- 
Btandiny;"  between  tliat  department  atid  tlie  National  Society,  that  no 
disseotiiig  child  should  be  Tetjuired  to  attend  the  Cliurch  sen'ices  or 
the  Church  schools  on  Sundays,  The  tamper  in  which  the  proiKhsal  is 
made  is  admirable,  and  Mr.  Hubbard  proves,  in  making  it,  that  he  is 
tnie  to  bis  better  nature,  and  strives  after  peace.  But  surely  be  must 
see  that  it  too  will  "  tail  to  satisfy  the  malcontents;"  that,  if  it  is  an, 
■'uiiderstAnding"  only,  it  will  be  subject  to  indefinite  variation;  and 
that  if  it  he  inserted  iu  the  trust-deeds,  it  miiy  be  ipute  as  great  an  out- 
rage on  the  consciences  of  men  who,  with  Archdeacon  Denison,  insist 
nxi  Hiinday  attendance  as  a  condition,  us  (lit  Ccmsficnee  Clause  itfl«lf, 
"  Are  we,"  they  might  argue  with  some  force  (and  I  do  not  see  bow 
Mr.  Hubbard,  from  his  atanding-gi-ound,  could  unswer  them),  "are  we 
tfl  connive  at,  nay,  santti'jn, htjretiial  and  schismiitical  ttaehing  ?  Are 
we  to  allow  tbe  dogiuatic  instmctiun  we  have  given  m  tlie  'one  faith* 
til  l>e  connteractod  by  Unitarian  ism,  ITniversalisni,  Nothingarian  ism, 
oti  tbe  Li'jrd's.  day  ?  Are  we  to  expose  our  tanibg  to  these  grieviiua 
Wolves,  and  thrust  them  into  tbe  danger  of  utter  uidjelief,  as  the  resiUt 
of  anch  conflictLng  doctrines  i"  If  Mr.  Hubbard  can  give  an  answer  to 
j^jeae  questions  on  his  own  principles,  I  shall  be  .i;lad  to  hear  it.   if  he 

tnot,  then  I  trust  that  tlie  wisli,  "  Ttdi-siifMsL;  niinHui  nmtrr  csaes!" 
may  be  exchanged  for  the  satisfaction  of  welcoming  into  the  camp 
of  the  dei'enders  of  the  clause  one  whom  we  recognise,  even  as  it  ia, 
among  the  Church's  truest  anna  iu  lieait  and  act. 

My  chief  wisli,  however,  has  been  to  set  forth,  first  to  my  own 
mind,  and  then  to  that  of  others,  the  grounds  ou  which  I  have  been 
led  to  thiuk  thiit  tiioae  who  defend  tbe  Conscience  Clause  aini  bearing 
their  witness  for  the  triie  ottice  of  the  English  Church,  and  are  help- 
ing Ki;r  in  Iter  true  worlc;  that  those  who  oppose  it,  zealous,  earnest 


I 

J 


602  Tht  Contemporary  Revieto. 

H^evnut  03  mjiuy  of  tliem  are,  are  yet  acting  -n-itli  a  zeal  not  acconlint; 
to  knowledge,  ami  are  widening  the  gap,  already  wide  fnouj^li,  l>etwi«ii 
her  aud  the  English  pcojile.  I  know  not  wliether  it  will  be  given  to 
us  tn  get  rid  of  tliat  antipathy  of  which  I  hiive  idready  spi>keu. — to 
Hliake  off  the  inheritance  of  prejudices,  divisions,  antngojiisma  which 
we  have  received  from  oiir  futliers,  and  seem  likely  tn  transmit  to  our 
children.  Notable  eilurts  have  heen  innde  lately  to  cut  oti*  this  entail 
of  curses,  aud  to  diminish  the  bitterness  which  has  come  between  iis 
and  tlie  great  Churches  of  the  East  nnd  West.  Such  efforts,  however 
imprudent  or  impracticable  they  may  $eein  to  us,  ought  at  leaat  t'j 
command  our  reaiJtctfuI  sympathy.  We  are  so  accustomed,  in  thought 
and  act,  to  take  np  the  spirit  of  the  old  proverh,  and  say  that  "the 
fathers  have  enten  smir  grapes,  and  the  children's  teeth  are  set  on 
edge,"— tn  throw  the  blame  on  the  ains  cif  a  jwist  genei-ation,  and  then 
to  repeat  the  sins  ourselves, — thjit  it  is  well  when  any  one  rises  and 
speaks  as  with  authority,  ami  bids  ua  know  that  we  ought  tn  hnve 
"  no  more  occasion  to  use  that  proverb  in  Israel."  But  to  look  thus 
wistfully,  with  outstretched  liiuida,  to  the  alien  Church  that  suul«  us. 
that  even  now  reject?  us  on  any  terms  but  those  of  absolute  gubmls- 
siou,  aud  then  tti  act  i]i  the  very  same  temper  to  tliose  who  dwell 
among  us,  boiie  of  our  bone,  and  flesh  of  our  flesh,  remling  the  same 
Bible,  the  same  "  Pdgrini's  Progress,"  the  same  "  Saint's  Rest,"  sinfpnjf 
the  same  hyrims,  heirs  of  the  same  national  life, — this  is  F^urety  to  he 
giiilty  of  a  niehmuholy  inconsistency.  Efforts  at  promoting  the  union 
of  Christendom  seem  jiractitally  satirical  when  we  are  at  the  same 
time  aggravating  anil  perpetuating  disnuion  at  home:  om- EirenJctin 
is  turned  into  an  Eironicon. 

I  dii  nf*t  pretctid  to  fear  much  actual  pressing  evil  from  the  agita- 
tion iiguinst  the  Conscience  Clause.  There  is  not  the  i-emoteat  pro- 
bability that  Parliament  will  reject  a  principle  which  has  l>et'U 
aBirmed  by  most  men  of  mark  on  botli  side-s  of  the  House  of 
Co3:nnona,  and  which  (M-ith  the  exeei)tiou  of  Ixird  GraubimTue)  lias 
hardly  an  opponent  among  statesmen.*  Tliero  is  even  less  tliot. 
when  Parliament  has  settletl  tlie  <iueation,  there  will  l)e  any 
seiiuel  like  tlie  disruption  of  the  E.stablished  Church  of  .Sttotlaml. 
There  will  be,  as  there  wyi*  in  183^,  a  umnlmr,  gradually  decivnam^, 
of  refusals  to  accept  any  gmnta  on  these  terms,  and  a  few  scbooii 
will  be  founded  in  the  spirit  of  protest,  and  with  an  open-haudt'd 
liberality.  There  will  be  pngry  speeches  aud  addresses,  with  signa- 
tures by  the  thousand,  and  memorials  to  the  ATchliishops,  ami  Uiea 

•  Sfr,  OabUy  (|».  v.J  rightly  ealla  attwition  to  the  wish  exprtsded  hj-  Lonl  Grannlla 
(1.931)  lurilii?  tiCcnf ion  of  the  Conscience  Clause  ta  annuiil  grants  as  ntigti  of  thtjitobaHle 
rfiiilt  uf  Hn  appeal  ta  Parli.iimcmt.  ITh>  (Lonl  Gitinville)  IclieTM,  ihnl  ua  i[  is,  it  ilfw  not 
go  jar  cQutLijli  tj  sflilefy  tLe  Uoii&o  uf  Cammcnis,  and  holils  bacJtia  tia  uixiely  loarnidn 
collision  with  !lio  Ijisliopa  aiidl  ol«rgy  of  thtf  Cfaurch- 


I 


Tft€  Conscience  Clause. 

tlie  a^Titatirjii  will  die  out,  a^  other  figitation.^  liave  died  out  before  it, 
ami  tlio  leading  oj^itatiors  will  be  remembered  (unless  they  have,  as 
doubtless  many  will  have,  other  and  better  worka  tci  leave  behind 
them)  as  Sacheverell  is  rememhered  now,*  lint  in  the  meantime  »)ne 
great  evil  will  have  been  done.  The  sour  grajies  will  have  lieea  once 
more  eaten,  and  the  teeth  once  more  set  on  eilge,  ami  another  drop 
of  gall  atltled  to  the  bitter  waters.  Those  who,  in  order  to  avert 
tliis  evil,  are  willing,  as  Mr.  Oaktey  and  Mr.  Fowle  Lave  shown 
themselves,  to  lose  oaste  with  then-  brethren,  to  be  distrusted  by 
many  whom  they  esteem,  and  to  be  denounced  as  traitors  or  hall- 
hearted  fcieude,  are,  I  believe,  worthy  of  all  sympathy  and  hoaoior. 
It  may  not  lie  given  to  them  to  see  that  union  of  Christian  Englnud, 
or  Catholic  Christendom,  fur  which  their  he-arts  passionstely  lung; 
but  in  proportion  as  we  take  any  stejia  towards  even  a  diminution  of 
the  evilj?  which  we  cannot  ciu'e,  they  will  bo  remembered  as  men  who, 
io  a  day  uf  trouble  and  rebuke,  sought  to  "  repair  the  waste  cities, 
the  desolations  of  many  generations ;'"  their  names  will  be  knowti  as 
those  who  have  at  least  striven  to  be  among  the  "repaii*ei*9  of  the 
breach/'  the  "  restorers  of  paths  to  dwell  ia," 

E.  H.  Plcmptee. 

*f  *  I  hav^  b>  add  yet  tiDothcr  witni?s3  Co  tte  lifft  of  thoso  ivtam  I  bavo  cited  in  p.  i>97. 
Tte  Bishop  of  Oxford,  nctordLng  to  nn  aulhoriieii  report  {Qimrdian,  July  14,  lS6ii)  ot 
the  flubatAni^c  of  bia  epecrh  aX  a  Confcrenpc  of  T>io(rEtuin  SccTvtnrioa  at  the  National 
Society,  ou  May  3Lst,  186^,  "  aCated  hi«  coE]viii.-l[Qti  thut  a  f  ousduuco  Clauw  of  eomo  kini 
wwUd  1»  iniiated  oa  by  any  GaveiDtnont,"  ucid  "  did  aoi  tMuk  any  pmicipli;  wu  vttiliilcd 
by  our  giring  ibo  DiBseiitor  instnictiou  iu  rootling',  nTlting,  ajii'  aritbniotii",  buwovor  ebort 
mich  inHtnic'tian  may  Hill  of  Ibp  true  ifl<?a  of  ediiration.''  It  is  not  cosy  to  ice  bivw  tliie 
ndmusto!)  ii  conftistcnt  with  "strong  objcclio-n*  to  (At  Wnwwr  us  it  now  utands."  though  ho 
may  leg^itimattly  tbiuk  that  it  hua  becu  ttifurted  on  uisiifKcietut  nut  lib  til  y^  and  at  too 
arbitrary  s,  discretion,  ^ay  vo  not  ba[H?  thnt  hcTO  oUo,  as  in  the  Church-ralfi  qucBtioa, 
Mr.  Qludatonc,  "shaping  bis  vild  i^oiirse  ibroitgh  a  i^oiiniry  ne^,"  mar  be  led  to  niuko 
9DIHP  prgponitl  wLifh  will  rccoiitilt'  the  contfoditi^  rkitua  of  Cbunhmuii  and  Dissenters, 
and  that  bo  will  liacl  in  tbe  Bishup  of  Uxjbrd  A  it^idous  and  pQwdrful  ggadjutor  in  that 
good  vork^ 

'  I  htre  thought  it  vorth  whib,  for  the  eake  of  readsra  who  are  curious  in  historical 
paraUeiiBois,  to  itiaki?  an  authulogy  I'roia  Cliia  diviuu'a  celebrated  Abnuon  oa  "  Tbo  li'erilu  of 
False  I)r«llirfn  :"^^"  If  to-  comply  with  DisaenlerS]  both  in  piiblli:  and.  private,  us  pKrauii* 
of  tender  <!o«stienro  and  pie'y,  ...  to  defend  toleration  nnd  liberiy  of  conadente, 
and  iiniler  4be  pirn  of  rnodiration  (-xeusc  Ibeir  HCpuratiDD,  Ate  the  critEriiiiis  of  n  tnio 
OharchiDaa,  Had  deliver  us  iruin  Huuh  Fai^K  Bli^-TiiiiEif.  >  .  .  I!  nay  upatoit 
rioTicUfit  '*  Cm  word,  of  Miiii'se,  would  be  Neohieian),  "  or  self- conceited  e^llhll3iaat^  out 
of  ifuoranpo,  ...  or  p^rverstness,  ...  or  ambition  and  vain-glory,  pbould 
brenk  in  upon  thn  Mcred  d^potilum  of  ibc  Chorcb,  .  .  .  should  we  stiik  to  ctiU  snub 
n  rebel  to  0.)d  and  traitor  to  rbo  Churih  s  Fai-sb  SiwtuerF  ,  .  .  Let  aur  euperior 
pasturs  do  their  duty  in  t.himdt<riufi;  uut  tbeir  Gtiultabutital  anathtmLOB,  juid  let  any  power 
na  earth  dare  reverse-  a.  Buctenc*  ratibod  in  beaveu  ...;"'  and  bo  on,  ail  uiiMtirtit 
iMjHf.  It  wniild  be  idle  to  bring  a  charge  of  Ulcrarv  plaginrisni,  wbere  the  rtacniblaoi'S 
it  beyond  all  doubt  unconscious,  but  1  seom  to  have  beonl  ood  rend  aooLStbing  like  this 
durmg  the  litst  twelve  mantlu. 


ORIGINES  EVANGELIC^:-'' ECLECTIC  NOTES.' 


r 


Ecketic  Koltt  i  If,  f:,ilfi  af  DaoMlimM  on  StlifflvH*  T^nplet  4'  'W 
MitHii:t  Ff  tht  EclefUc  Beriflf,  LvHlXim-,  4ufinil  I*'  V^rt  l??i-Hl*, 
E4iUr|  by  Jouf  U.  Pbatt,  M.A-,  ArcbdeMua  af  OUe«tl*  Sroimd 
EJitifB,    Londiia :  2<:i>b«t.    ISO^. 

J  LTV  AT  integros  aecedere  fonteis,  atque  haiirirc ;"  or,  to  take  onollier 
simUitude, — We  live  in,  alluvial  days,  and  the  conventional 
opinious  around  ua  ate  but  tlie  detritus  of  great  boulders  wbicK 
cropped  up  and  were  fretted  down  in  other  timea.  Party  terras  and 
confessions  are  now  thornnglily  iinderstood.  and  it  must  he  a  very 
nri^nnnl  thinker  indeed  who  can  add  one  idea  to  the  store  already 
labellicd  and  stowed  away, 

Tt  is  on  this  account  that  we  hailed  this  volume,  extrecting  to  find 
iu  it  the  first  earnest  and  warm  expi-ession  of  the  n^reat  tniths  which 
in  the  pi-ovidence  of  God  were  re\'ived  among  im  by  the  lathers  of 
the  Evangelical  moveirient  at  the  end  of  the  last  centuiy. 

The  book  consists  of  notes  taken  by  the  eriitfl/s  father,  the  Rev. 
Jiisiah  Pratt,  during  the  sixteen  years  mentioned  iu  its  title.  Arch- 
deacou  I'mtt  states  iu  Ids  Preface,  that  he  rejiuljliahes  the  notes  entire 
as  they  were,  notwithstandini;  that  "  the  interest  of  the  iiiacussi«ins 
Bomewiiat  falls  off'  t-owarda  the  end  of  the  volume,  and  although  snnie- 
of  the  remarks  are  of  inferior  value."  This  is  said  no  doubt  iii  depre- 
cation of  the  disappointment  which  must  be  felt  by  all  who  hjive 
carefully  read  any  lap^e  portion  of  the  book.  AVe  looked  for  a  rich 
treat  in  discussions  conducted  by  such  men  as  John  Newton,  H. 
Foster,  llios.  Scott,  R.  Cecil.  John  Vi^mi,  l"!a8il  Woodd,  Chiirles 
Simeon,   and  others  almost   as  well  known.       But  on  perusal,  tli0 


I 
I 

I 


old  revelation  occurteii  to  ua,  "  With  how  lEttle  wisdom  tl\e  world 
is  governed!"  And  it  certainly  appedred  that  the  discussion  nf 
ttie  many  "weiiility  subjects  announced  at  the  bead  of  thu  debiites 
liiid  not  Wen  prnductive  of  niucli  solid  gain  ti>  the  Chnreli.  For  the 
jnnat  part,  the  Temarks  made  are  liardly  more  than  comniiinplace. 
Bnt  there  are  3innt'  striking  exc*!ption5,  and  for  the  value  of  tliese 
exceptions  we  are,  notwithstanding  the  common  place,  thankful  for 
the  Iwok.  And  even  liesidea  these,  it  may  tend  to  show  us  by  what 
Bimple  and  sinjrle-nnudeil  men  that  great  movement  was  conducted, 
very  near  to  its  tirst  rise  in  our  country. 

Foremost  among  them  in  originality,  as  in  grasp  of  thought,  stands, 
as  might  have  been  ej[|i«cted,  the  honoured  name  of  Rjl'Haud  Cecil. 
A  lew  Hpeciuieris  of  his  savings  in  the  debates  may  he  accepUhle  Ui 
our  readers.  On  the  question  of  "  the  manner  of  the  temptation  of 
our  first  parents."  he  saya, — 

"  I  reraemhu'r  a  result  frnni  a  formor  exaiainatiQii  of  thin  ([iicRtLou.  It  wiu", 
'  Ui't/ifi-tn  g/i'ift  thffii-  cum';  and  m>  /urther.^  It  ia  aoniethiiig  liko  thi.*  man 
ivitL  hia  hand  under  hia  tloak:  'Whiit  have  you  under  yonr  cloak  1'  'I 
carry  it  thera  that  you  luuy  not  know.'  A  miiu  in  opening  fainih  a  book  aa 
tlitt  ItiHc,  lias  no  uliiince  nf  Imding  out  iinytliint^  without  KuuLilily.  Oud 
BjKvikn  with  imijiyty.  Hl'  fiskw  not,  '"W'tmt  think  y'>\x  of  my  cniuliou  f 
Tltf  sober  niiin  would  auy,  '  I  expect  everything  to  be  wondftrful  in  ancb  an 
acc<>wut."'— (P.  50.) 

S]}eaking  of  the  wedtling  garment : — 

•■  I  tind  iii>tliiny  liit  my  ideti  s<j  much  aa  that  partu^uhir  scripture,  '  Put  iji:. 
en  till'  Liwl  Jeffiu  dirijit.'  j\h !  iini^  sslj's,  that  nii.-iinfl  putting  on  (..hrist  us 
cu]' fightfOUftneas.  Itut  put  Him  on  as  wiBdoTn,RanctiHcation,aiii!reifclnption 
also.  ,  .  .  If  wo  narruw  lliis  ground,  and  DiEikit  it  mean  any  [wirticnlar 
doctrine,  WW  seem  tu  put  on  our  purticular  spettoicles.  Two  fieraous,  a  liuly 
and  ft  ciinitp,  looked  through  a  teluscopu  at  the  mogn.  The  cm^tt',  suielling 
a  cftthuilml,  thought  th«  hom-s  hxiked  like  tlie  two  apiMS  of  a  criithedral ; 
wliiie  the  lady  thought  them  like  the  enAa  of  C-'u[Hd'H  liow.  Making  the 
ipedUiug  gantn?iit  signify  eucleaiasticaHy  either  jiwtitication  or  sajwtificati-on, 
i*  dividing  Christ,  What  M'ill  excjudu  me  1  No  pirtiicidur  diificinmuy  ;  hut 
tkut  1  aju  sepamWd  froui  IIiul"— (P.  53.J 

i>n  "  occasions  of  enmity  to  the  (.lospel ; " — 


"  A  religions  quiz  is  an  occimion  of  enmity  to  the  GcwpeL  Ask  hiin  » 
.ioiij  he'd  atiire  sn  your  fai'-e  and  lof>k  verj'  spiritual.  I  remember  a  pnr- 
at  LeM't'fi  who  accosted  anotliL-r  thug, — '  Pui  luer,  what  do  you  know  of 
Joans  Christ  t'  There  was  a  ijuantity  of  spiritual  pride  in  this.  A  grievouB 
want,  too,  of  breeding  and  good  spnae.  The  worlti,  therefore,  I'oruia  this 
idea :  Iteligiort  mnkes  a  man  a  fool  or  mad ;  therefore  I  won't  be  such  a 
crentui*.'"— (l*.  tj5.) 

On  one  occasion,  several  siieakera  had  been  speaking  more  or  leas 
seriously  on  dnxtms.     Mr,  Cecil,  among  otlier  remarks^  said, — 

"  JJreuma  appear  to  ma  ns  intended  to  suffer  man  to  net  out  liia  part,  while 


A 


6o6 


Tlu  Corttcmporary  Reviem, 


r 


he  IB  saved  frpin  the  consequences  at  the  time,  that  he  may  Icftm  tha  folly 
of  his  uwii  li(;art,  and  God'a  reatraminK  ProWdwtce  'Coini?,  you  ahall  pi 
and  act  thu  villam,  and  see  what  misery  it.  enda  in.'  llreiuniug  is  liku 
thinking  or  actinj*.  I^peaiuB  nm  in  his  owni  ctuwin^L  We  are  creutures  ■uf 
haliit.  The  hiibit  'ttill  fin-voiL  It's  a  maii'a  s&ourge.  Jlan  will  act  his 
part  in  drcu^ming  a«  hi  M'akiiig.  It'  lii3  l>e  a  good  inaii,  Hutam  will  wi'trj  hiiii. 
This  id  ono  of  his  nitidis  of  temptation-  If  he  ciin  present  a  n-diir-lng  ijuBgc, 
he  will.  Yet  wa  innat  not  loau  too  much  tifwania  tho  pupcistitioua  eitly. 
Mti  Wesley's  jieoplc  du  tliia  Drfams  cim  afford  no  implicit  ground  of  com- 
fort and  giiiilftnce.  TherL-  is  no  iloiiht  that  a  man's  pei^uliar  occupHtioo  has 
much  to  Jo  with  dreiima  I  think  I  could  dn^am  any  givi-n  night  any  givt-n 
auLjtict,  fiutfh  and  such  dreamRj  I  iind,  g<'»i*ralJy  follow  Buch  iin<l  BUi;h  ton- 
duct.  I've  aclftsd  of  dreauia  that  follow  a  particular  habit  i'lri  in  a  harj'- 
mg-grnund,  or  1  see  a  hwly  half  liousumed,  or  1  sett  the  he<lgiu  iif  Uio  thurcli- 
yartl  cut  into  the  fomi  of  a  dragon,  itc.  IVt  drt^amt  thfsct  dr^iuns  n 
hundrwl  times  ;  but  have  alwaya  said  ia  the  niondngt — '  You  dmnk  ]»rtfr 
for  supper. '"—(P.  84.) 

On  keeping  diaries,  he  says : — 

"A  distinction  ia  necessary.  There  ig  a  dissenting  diary  wliitli  some  of 
the  dissenting  ivritcra  advisu  a  man  to  keep.  If  n  man  keeps  a  record  of 
leading  fentiirps,  it  ia  usefid  ;  I  am  altogether  for  it.  I  have  for  many  years 
made  it  my  practice,  wnd  fur  thi«  resiaon : — Ifyoii  walk  tinder  a  church,  H  ia 
grand;  if  you  view  it  at  a  few  miles  distance,  it  is  scarcely  seen,  f>o  in  tlia 
a^irs  of  tiie  uiind.  The  thin^  secji  near  \s  tjrand  and  interesting  ;  at  n  dis- 
tance, cold  and  diiLL 

"  There  i*i  a  duty,  too,  inTolved  :  '  Thm  shait  retnptnber  all  thn  way  tthkh 
the  Lunl  f/ii/  Gotl  lal  tint.'  It  is  of  vuat  inipnrtanco  that  wc  shtmld  not  tosn 
tlie  Ixmelit  of  thu  kB.son  tlirou^'h  the  treticheiy  of  thu  memory.  Making  a 
rci^ord,  thcivfore,  of  onr  jt^nniey,  is  a  nstd'u]  and  inipm-tLint  thing.  But  .i 
wise  man  ii'ill  leave  an  ordi-r  to  burn  it,  htcaua^^  other  clumictors  are  oft^'n 
involvefl.  ...  A  well-manayed  diary  is  a  most  important  thing.  An 
ill-nmnagpd  one,  like  other  things,  ia  pormcionj!."-^r.  911.) 

Od  the  ([uestimi,  "What  kind  of  preat-hiug  is  heat  cnlculated  to 
guard  a  peoiile  against  declension  in  religion  ?"  Lb  says, — 

"Tin?  tptestion  iu  how  to  keep  a  piei:c  of  ineul.,  which  has  a  temlcucy  to 
putrefaction,  from  putrefying.  Kone  deny  that  soiue  kinds  of  preaching 
hare  a  greater  tendency  to  preserve  from  declension  than  otlifrs.  ,  .  . 
It  L8  not  tt  very  juditioua  mode  of  iireachiiig  which  ^vill  let  th&  thouglit^ 
run  wild,  and  act  the  man  ruminating  flhcmt  thtt  stn^'ks,  and  hia  wife  about 
the  pudding,  thti  daughter's  eyca  upon  the  next  cap,  t,lii^  young  follow  louk- 
ing  at  his  hoots.  .     .     Our  preaching  must  not  In-  getteral,  but  parti- 

cular. *  It  itr  wit  Imtrfu)  for  thet:  ttt  hntv  hrr  tt/  ici/r.'  Thiis  i\-aa  John  tlio 
Baptist's  style.  We  must  fijJiur  men.  'T/inu  mi.  tlii-  nuni!'  '  t  nteotl  yu, 
sir  I'  Wi!  aru  not  half  enough  convinced  of  tlie  pvil  of  ;/crtrral  prwichiiig. 
.  .  .  Thu  Leef  must  have  tlift  salt  of  tnitli,  and  the  sahpetre  of  life  ;  but 
It  must  1h-  riilihed  in  by  particiihir  application  ;  and  nibbwl  into  every  |mrt 
by  a  comphihpiisive  iidiid  ;  iuid  rubljefl  in  by  cJeau  hands.'" — (P,  218.) 

The  foUuwiiig  remarks  on  family  prayer  are  excellent: — 

"  It  is  easy  to  keep  up  the  attention  of  a  congregation  in  compamon  (■> 
that  of  my  family.     I  have  found  moat  attentiuu  by  bringing  the  truth  of 


Origines  Evangelices : — '*  Eclectic  Notes."  607 

Scripture  into  comparison  with  the  facts  which  come  before  ua.  More 
stimulus  is  thus  put  into  family  expositions.  I  never  found  a  fact  lost;  the 
current  news  of  the  day  always  comes  in  aid,  '  How  does  the  Bible  account 
for  that  factr  'That  man  murdered  his  lather:  that  happened  in  our 
house  to-day :  what  saj-s  the  Scripture  of  that  1 ' 

"  If  I  have  no  fact  to  illustrate  Scripture,  I  bring  the  Scripture  to  illus- 
trate facts. 

"  It  is  a  hard  thing  to  fix  and  quiet  the  family.  The  servants  want  to  go 
to  stew  the  walnuts.  There's  perhaps  a  fume  between  the  mistress  and 
the  servants.  Catch  the  opportunity.  Don't  drive  [at]  them  at  the  time ; 
but  do  not  let  the  matter  slip  by, 

"  It  is  a  great  matter  to  keep  regularity.  If  certain  hoiira  are  not  observed, 
you  are  sure  to  hnd  all  in  a  bustle. 

"  Eeligious  truth  should  be  cautiously  applied  to  a  family.  The  old  iJis- 
senters  wore  their  children  to  death.     Jacob  reasoned  well  about  his  cattle. 

"  There  should  be  something  little,  gentle,  quiet.  We  should  hot  scold  : 
all  should  be  pleasant  and  sweet.  I  would  uot  have  a  uniform  mode  of 
proceeding.  There  is  something  bad  in  uniformity,  if  carried  too  for ;  but 
eccentricity  is  still  worse.  The  human  mind,  however,  revolts  at  uniformity. 
Sometimes  I  make  remarks ;  at  others,  none. 

"  Make  it  as  natural  as  possible.  And  let  the  feeling  be,  '  We  are  a  reli- 
gious family ;  how  natural  it  is  that  we  should  thus  meet  together,' 

"  It  should  not  be  a  superstitious  thing ;  neither  should  it  be  looked  on 
aa  indispensable.  If  it  were  ordered,  as  the  Jews  were  ordered  to  bring  a 
lamb,  why,  it  must  be  absolute.     But  this  is  my  liberty,  not  my  task. 

"I  do  not  mean  the  contrary,  however.  Servants  and  children  should 
see — 'I  will  speak  of  Thy  testimonies  before  kings.'  Whatever  great  man 
happens  to  be  there,  let  them  see  I  deem  him  nothing  before  the  Bible." — 
(P.  196.) 

If  these  excellent  rules  had  been  more  observed,  family  prayer 
would  not  have  become,  as  we  are  afraid  all  must  confess  it  has 
become,  rather  an  unmeaning  task  than  a  hearty  exercise  of  social 
feith.  It  seems  to  us  there  is  no  practice  of  ours  which  more  wants 
reforming  and  revivifying. 

Mr.  Cecil's  remarks  on  what  tends  to  enliven  or  depress  devotion 
in  public  prayer  are  equally  sensible : — 

"What  use  is  there  in  exciting  attention,  if  there  be  nothing  to  be 
attended  to  ?  It  is  therefore  of  first  importance  to  put  a  meaning  into  all 
that  is  done,  no  matter  how  different  men's  faculties  and  means  ara 

"  Too  little  attention  is  paid  in  refeftnce  to  man.  I  woidd  consult  him 
in  all  points.  I  would  give  him  cushions,  if  he  woidd  then  sit  easier.  I 
would  make  hiin  warm  and  comfortable,  and  would  not  be  so  foolish  as  to 
tell  him  to  be  warm  in  God's  service,  while  he  actually  shivers.  I  would 
let  no  doors  creak,  no  wuidows  tattle,  nor  niijht's  Joul  hird  scream,"  &c. — 
(P.  68.) 

On  the  tiuestion,  "  How  far  the  plea  of  ner\'ous  weakness  is  to  be 
admitted  by  ministers  in  relaxation  of  Christian  temper  and  duties," 
he  says, — 

"  What  is  the  real  state  of  the  case  ]  Is  it,  on  the  whole,  physical  or 
moral  1  If  physical,  it  is  to  he  treated  with  entire  tenderness ;  if  moral, 
with  faithfulness. 


6o8  The  Contemporary  Review, 

"All  inactive  life  may  be  pimishpil  with  innhility.  They  Lave  Baid,  '  I 
ivil]  dn  nothing,'     iioil  sayH,  '  Yuu  fhnli  do  nuthiJij', ' 

"  SikIi  n  1111111  firt  Watts  is  to  be  nlJowod  to  sL-rtMLin  at  filing  thKnigli  a  ilonr. 
He  Imd  wnrn  oiit  tlii'  iLiadiint^.  ThesL-  jdoae  stn.'  ii'tK'ii  a  cloak  if*  cover  wt>iik 
]ii<-I.y  and  hnJi- hear  twin  ese  in  religion.  Wo  shall  dnnb  tlin  wall  mth  uiitem- 
jicrod  moTtftr  if -we  allow  thie  plea.     .     .     . 

"  Great  strokos  of  calamity  are  ol'teii  ndvftritflgieouB  in  such  taaea." — (P.  411.1 

In  the  course  of  the  same  discussion,  the  Kev.  Joi5iah  Pratt  makes 
a  remark  which  is  noteworthy,  caiisidering  that  its  date  ia  1807: — 

"  NervouBiitisa  seunis  to  he  a  disease  uf  ihoiIbfh  timee.     Ferhojja  leo-dritik- 

ing  htiis  bten  one  cause  of  it." 

We  uoted  in  passing  the  following  sliort  sayings  of  Mr.  Cecil ; — 

"  '  Becoming  pride'  is  hut  a  j^ililetl  devil." —  (P.  40(k) 

'*  Let  popularity  be  tht!  ahatlow  that  follows  ub,  not  that  wliiph  we  pur- 
sue. "—(I\  40T.) 

"  Paley  ia  an  ittismind  eitsuiat  rcBpecting  the  exttnimtion  of  (Irmikitnm'es. 
Mnltiply  the  crime  nf  getting  drunk  into  the  possible  ronsequenees,  amd  ynti 
liuve  the  bhiti  total  of  a  drunken  man'n  f^iilt."— (P.  374.) 

"I  know  no  worsts  symptom  in  a  man,  thun  tu  be  ahy  of  one  part  in  the 
fScripti:rca  Tlie  Chrialifin  loves  the  very  ^lart  that  condemns  him,  and 
hninblcj*  himiwif  under  tht  word  which  lays  him  low."— (!'.  277.) 

""^^Idtfitdd  answ^-red  l'>skinp  well.  '  Cotne  amnng  us,  for  we  an*  tlie 
Lord's  ]>cople.'  'For  that  reason,'  siiid  he,  '  I  won't,  for  I  am  sent  to  tlia 
devil'ft  pco]de."*— (P.  34.) 

"  I  Avaa  cumd  of  expecting  the  Spirit's  inflncnce  without  duo  piviuirution, 
by  oliscn-ing  how  men  talked  wlin  took  up  that  sentiment  1  have  heard 
men  tidk  nonsense  by  tlie  hour,  as  tlie' Spirit  ciuihled  thinii.'  " — {P.  ICT.) 

"  I  shouhl  Jicvcr  have  thought  a  man's  relipioti  sn  much  depended  on  the 
<-iiii:ulation  of  his  bloud  as  it  does,  il'  1  liad  not  exiwrienewl  it,  .  .  . 
Twenty  yeiii's  ago,  I  would  havu  taken  a  man  by  tlie  I'olla]'  and  premJii-d 
four  Bcrniuns  u  day  to  hiui.  Xow,  I  am  glad  if  dremoELjinceB  bring  no  an 
ii.scnae."— (P.  185,) 

It  woiild  be  impossible  tliat  sucli  a  man  as  JOHN  Newtok  should 
hiive  Bpokeii  uu  uiauy  subjects  near  his  heart  fur  years,  aud  uot  bavu 
left  iiiin;li  worth  remembering.  Wo  cull  just  a  few  of  bis  sayings, 
— ^partly  for  their  own  sake,  partly  to  sliow  what  sort  of  opitiions  were 
eiuTeut,  in  those  early  days  of  Evangelicalism,  among  its  staunchesl 
upholders. 

On  the  question,  "  What  are  the  main  points  of  instructioa  to  bt 
derived  fTLim  the  bonk  of  Job  ?"  he  reiiinrka, — 

"As  to  allcgtirj,  the  whole  Hcriplure  is  allegorical  in  one  seiiae.  Then-  is 
not  an  idtit  then-  of  the  etvnial  world,  but  is  rupii-jseutt-d  to  wa  undf^r  tin* 
image  of  sensible  tilings.  W«  are  not  to  euppoi^e  a  ptrsonal  conlwrenew 
between  tJod  and  Satan, 

"I  have  learned  from  thiR  book  the  unprohtiiblrnees  of  coutroverey.  If 
God  had  not  int^jqioeed,  and  .Job  and  lu's  friends  had  tried  till  thijs  day,  they 
would  have  diBjuited  till  now."— (P.  211.) 

On  the  difference  of  pastoral  work  in  town  and  in  the  country  -^ — 


I 


Origines  Evangelic^  : — ^'Eclectic  Notes."  609 

"  In  the  country,  it  is  easy  to  lift  up  the  leather  latch,  and  walk  in  and 
converse.  In  town,  one  has  to  wipe  one's  shoes,  send  up  one's  name,  and 
speak  as  if  afraid  to  be  understood," 

In  the  following  saying  of  his,  we  discover  a  trace  of  the  Puritan 
spirit  of  asceticism  which  pervades  many  of  the  discussions: — 

"  There  is  no  time  for  a  sinner,  a  ]>ardoned  sinner,  living  among  miserable 
sinners,  to  spend  in  jocoseness.  There  is  nothing  in  the  New  Testament, 
from  beginning  to  end,  recommending  levity." — (P,  115.) 

On  effectual  preaching : — 

"  Whoever  of  us  can  say — '  Ye  are  witnesneg,  and  God  also,  how  Injlily 
trnd  junthj  and  uiihJavieablij  tve  Mmved  oursclven  aiming  ijou  that  believe' — 
may  command  and  nde  his  iwople's  souls. 

"  Paul  was  a  reed  in  non-essentials,  an  iron  pillar  in  essentials. 

"  A  minister  has  almost  hit  the  mark,  if,  when  his  sennon  is  over,  eomo 
call  him  an  Antinomian,  and  some  an  Arminian. 

"There  are  not  only  ministers  who  bring  'milk'  and  '  strong  meat,'  hut 
some  who  bring  mere  hones" — (P.  153.) 

"ITie  great  point  I  would  aim  at  is  this  :  that  whether  people  will  accede 
to  what  I  say  or  not,  they  may  have  a  full  persuasion  that  I  mean  them  well 
A  young  minister's  exordium  is  too  often  in  this  spirit — *  I  know  you  all 
hate  me.' 

"  I  have  been  forty  years  in  acquiring  my  present  views.  I  reject  some 
things  I  thought  valuable  ;  and  receive  some  I  before  hesitated  at.  Now, 
why  should  I  expect  any  man  to  receive  my  sentiments  in  half  an  hour, 
which  I  have  been  forty  years  in  acquiring  1 

"  It  was  a  common  saying  with  Mr.  Whitfield, — '  If  I  am  faithful,  you'll 
either  fall  out  with  me  or  with  yourselves.  A  lady  ouce  found  fault  with 
my  speaking  too  loud  in  preaching.  Mr.  Thornton  said  afterwards,  "  Don't 
mind  that :  she  was  cut  by  what  you  said,  and  must  say  something.  If  she 
had  not  found  fault  with  your  speaking,  she  would  have  done  so  with  your 
buttons."' "—{P.  171.) 

On  the  very  sensible  question,  "  How  is  the  duty  of  reproving  sin 
to  be  distinguished  from  the  temptation?"  Mr.  Newton  says, — 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  some  have  a  gift  for  reproving.  Some  are  so  prompt, 
wise,  gentle,  winning  in  their  manner  of  administering  reproof.  A  Mend  of 
mine  had  this,  who  used  sometimes  to  stop  and  reprove  swearing  by  saying, 
'  Sir,  give  me  leave  to  swear  next.' 

"  Yet,  when  it  is  our  duty  to  abstain  from  speaking  in  reproof,  we  should 
nevertheless  show  it  by  Inokn. 

"  There  is  a  good  deal  in  tempers  and  dispositions.  I  am  phlegmatic  and 
not  iniputuOHs.  If  I  feel  inchnation  to  reprove,  I  am  not  likely  to  do  wrong, 
liut  th«  iraiHjtuous  may  be  wrong  in  following  their  feeUngs. 

"  I  tell  iulidels  that  I  don't  believe  them.  They  try  to  cany  a  bold  lace, 
but  they  are  wretched  at  heart. 

"  If  a  gross  thing  pass  in  company,  I  would  either  reprove,  or  leave  the 
room. 

"  Keproof  should  be  tn  xeason,  in  secret,  and  in  love. 

"I  knew  a  minister  who  used  to  reprove  swearing  by  taking  off  his  liat 
when  he  heanl  it."-(P.  185.) 

We  cannot  forbear  reintroducing  Mr.  Cecil,  for  the  sake  of  his 
lemarka  in  this  same  debate: — 


6io  7^  Conieiiiporary  Review. 

"  J  have  traced  A  little'  the  root  of  tbiR  shrinkiDg  from  diflicult  dutie«. 
We  iiK!  mnr«  coiicemeil  tu  bo  tlu'iught  gentlemen,  than  to  be  felt  as  mmistera. 
iteinj;  willing  tt>  be  thought  of  as  a  man  lliat  has  kept  good  L'omi>a.ny,  cnt»  At 
the  nwt  of  that  rough  woi-k  wliich  is  oftfiti  petjuiwid  of  Us  iii  hnn;^ng  tJnd 
into  Ilis  own  world.  It  is  rough  ami  hatil  work  to  l>ring  GtM.1  into  His 
world.  To  talk  of  a  Creator,  and  Preserver,  and  Kftileeiiitr,  is  an  outrage  Mid 
violence  on  th<;  fet-lings  of  [tt'ople.  Tlieni!  is  soniething  ol"  trutli  in  wWt  Mr, 
"Woaloysoid  to  Jiia  jiruiifliLTB,  though  I  have  heard  it  nmch  ridiculed — ^'Yott 
hiive  no  moivlo  «ln  with  bring  geiitleint'n,  tbim  lieingdniicing-maeters.'  The 
pliftracter  -of  a  minister  is  a  gr«at  deal  wlMive  the  cliaracter  i.^f  a  gentlemaiL 
It  tiUits  a  higher  walk.  I  woidd  not  have  a  msm  rude,  and  disdain  to  leom 
how  to  lumdlo  hi?  knife  and  furk  ;  but  to  be  a  gentrluuiuii  should  not  bo  his 
chief  aim."— (P.  1S7.} 

Two  mote  sayings  of  -Jobn  Newton's ; — 

"If  any  hvathuD  cjin  be  hmught  who  seas  thij  vanity  of  the  world,  itc, 
and  says  from  his  heart,  '  liiiB  entiuni,  niisertjre  m« !'  [m^i )]  I  belitvf  ha 
wonlit  be  huard,  But  1  nnyev  found  one  sudi,  tboui^b  I  hsve  known  many 
heathen."— fP.  263.) 

"In  preaching,  the  upper  part  of  the  score,  which  the  i>e0|de  hear,  mu? 
off  welL  But  there  is  an.  under  jjart  full  of  discord.  If  the  people  hcarrl 
this,  I  should  be  ready  to  jump  out  of  the  pulpit." — (P.  290.) 

Occasionally  we  have  some  shrewd  and  even  valuable  romarks  fivm 

the  dry  old  commentator,  Thomas  Scott  : — 

"WooiUl  thinks  thure  is  a  difficulty  in  Cluisfa  boing  at  all  th*;  fnibjwt  of 
temptation.  In  prcijxirtion  to  tbi*  purity  of  the  aool,  \\w  dnngp-r  ilecrt^asf^ 
but  the  anguish  incretipee.  In  proportion  to  the  impurity  of  the  soul,  the 
on^ifih  decrcainiij,  hut  the  dnn^er  oiid  pollution  hicreasc.  Taki'  tht-  exainple 
of  II  womjui  tempted  to  murder  her  child.  Her  danger  is  iess  in  proporlioa 
to  her  love  j  but  her  anguish  osq_uiaite  in  the  aame  degnse." — (P.  40<) 

Speaking  of  t-lie  Lord's  day,  he  says, — 

"  A  Man  sbnulil  say—'  I  have  been  in  a  storm  all  the  week  ;  now  I  hriti^ 
forth  my  instruments  to  make  my  obfiervations.'' — (V.  44.) 

01'  detecting  hypocrisy,  he  remiirkf^, — 

"We  should  lean  to  th«  favourable  side,  aud  be  as  the  judgfj  an  wlvoralfl 
for  the  priaonisr.  If  we  atv  too  det«nnined,  we  may  filrengt-hen  the  hypo- 
crite in  hill  hypocrisy,  and  wound  iii  a  Wiiy  God  haa  fiot  wounded.  Wo 
might  Jinve  thouj^'ht  Judaa  a  raope  uue.\Reptiouahle  man  than  Pt'ter.  Ptr- 
hnp9  not  otii;  nf  thfl  aiMJstlej*  auapeijted  wlio  waa  meant  when  our  Ixinl  said 
— *  I  have  (ihosen  you  twelve,  and  one  i>f  you  ia  a  doviL'"— (P.  913.) 

The  following  remarks  of  his  also  alTuck  us  as  worth  noting : — 

"  1  have  ft  greftt  objection  to  '  expcrioneo  mtietinys.'  They  are  ii  sliort 
aemion  ujiun  the  little  wi^td  'I.'"— (P.  Itil.) 

"  That  is  a  beautiful  diameter  where  evei^'thing  is  in  onler  ;  in  which,  for 

example,  wo  aeo  boldness,  hut  meekness  ;  nienkiieBs,  but  eoun^e;  in  which 
a  miui  is  seen  jienitent,  but  believing  j  believing,  hut  penitent.  Tlh'  Inie 
character  hlends  culours  oa  the  rainbow.  Jeaus  Christ  is  the  only  p..-rfi-.:l 
example  of  tliis,  St.  Paul  is  the  mcdt  wonderful  ,imoiig  fallible  meiL" — 
(P,.  ItiD.) 

"  There  are  many  reasons  connected  with  our  suiferijiga  which,  if  we  could 


I 
I 


I 

I 
I 


sec  them,  would  mnke  them  to  be  no  Buflermga ;  but  then  they  woaJJ  uot 
answer  theii'  etui,  for  we  m'Uft  suffer  in  the  dark,  in  order  to  Qluatrate  the 
IHviiw  mercy," 

We  would  pass  from  collecting  sayings  of  the  chief  nienibera  of  the 
Eclectic  .Society,  to  noting  some  of  the  opinions  expi'essed  in  thuii' 
diacusaions,  as  characteriatie  or  instructive.  We  oliserve,  as  might  \t& 
expected,  a  ati'ong  Puritin  leaven  prevalent  thi-oughout;  less  indeed 
in  Mr.  Cecil's  speeches  than  in  those  of  the  rest,  hut  sometimes  even 
in  his.     On  music,  the  Iiev.  \V'.  Fiy  remarks, — 

"Thu  introiluction  of  mudic  into  privnte  parties  of  Christiana  ia  a  device 
of  Sfttiin,  to  wa^tc  time.  In  whjit  is  i^alleil  sttcred  music,  th&re  is  often  mucli 
profamition." — (P.  340.) 

And  Mr.  Cecil  -.-^ 

"  TheTe  is  a  distinction  between  the  world  Mid  ub  as  to  rauaic.     Put  songs 

iathe  Hre."— (P.  391.) 

Among  the  adverse  signs  of  the  times,  and  together  with  "  Sunday 
newspHjKirs,  and  conjugal  infidelity  in  the  higher  orders,"  the  Kev.  H. 
G,  Watkins  (p,  3G8)  elassea  "the  increase  of  circulating  liLraiies"  I 

The  llev.  T.  Scott  says,  p,  115,— 

"  It  19  truly  said,  niiin  is  tiiii  only  Liugliiug  utitnutL  It  is  a  question 
whether  God  or  sin  laade  LinL  sucIl  Uhiist  sighed  and  wi:pt,  but  uc^ver 
laughed." 

At  the  same  time  we  find  a  wide  liberty'  of  opinion  on  some  suh- 

jects,  which  would  be  sought  i'or  in  vain  among  the  successors  of  the 

"  Eelectica."     For  instance,  on  the  question,  "What  is  the  obligation 

of  the  Christian  Sabhatli  V  the  Rev.  H.  Foster  says, — 

"1  havu  liad  many  emlw.misaing  questions  put  to  na«  at  times  by  various 
personB.  I  hu.vc  gecicntlly  lulviaed  giving  Up  any  bu.sinuss  Dot  i^ompatibl-e 
ivttU  the  ol)lig«tiou  of  the  snbbath.  I  diil  this,  more  from  com pUa lice  with 
general  custom,  tbsiu  from  thorough  conviction.  .  .  .  My  pi'ivat«  opinion 
has  been,  thut  a  miiu  uiiglit  go,  if  ill  an  inferior  relative  situatiuti,  iifttir 
attending  worship,  U>  hi-'<  usual  euiployiueiit  But  I  tonJ'e^  th.L\t  there  is 
danger  in  tliis  way  yf  talking,  because  tneu  will  plewl  for  theuiselvea.  Cut 
I  have  an  idea  that  thy  iv  in  a  Hb'irty  which  men  may  taV-e  with  a  good  eoii- 
Bcience,  which  would  bu  called  by  some  a  violation,  of  the  jabbath."^ — (P.  il.) 

And  Professor  Farish,  on  the  same  subject  :— 

"  It  Boenia  uianifiwt  that  Christ  mejint  to  relax  the  strictness  of  the  salv 
bath.  A  part,  llwiri-'forc,  of  the  nomnnand  is  abrogated,  ns  nther  politicnl 
in&titutioms  weit;.  Ciuristianity  is  mild  and  accoiumoLlnting.  Vet  it  is 
uanifeet  that  tlie  religious  and  physical  beneiit*  are  of  gre^t  importance  and 
iicccijeity.  The  sabbath  is  therefore  of  perpetual  obligation,  though  not  in 
ita  atrictnees." — (P.  42,) 

We  have  the  foil-owing  capital  remarks  on  iaating,  from  the  Eev.  T. 
Scott ;. — 

"  Fasting  is.  not  once  preacrihed  under  thp  liw.  The  only  expression  like 
it  is — ajffirt  thy  wnl.  ThcTefon>  (I)  it  ia  not  of  perpetual  obligation.  Yet 
it  is  of  moral  obligattou,  whatever  the  ohl^tiou  is.     It  is  a  circumstantiul. 


J 


612 


The  Contemporayy  Review. 


Tlii?y  liavp  EisBocutttMl  an 


occnsionnt  thing.  It  is  an  acknowledfijment  that  we  have  forfeiteil  our  right 
to  sill  thu  criMtuiL'S  of  fiod,  nu^reforo  it  is  a  prupcr  iitteiiJfint  uu  i»il  ck-cji- 
sious  iif  hiirnilintioii.  By  andloyy,  it  ivill  teaiili  the  fnclinntioii  ti>  suhniit  tJ 
ihp  jutljrnient.  It  will  i-intlirorio  <!Oiiseien(!n  ami  jmigment  iji  all  poiutfi, 
Fiisliiij^  is  of  ((Tout  ysi!  ami  ox|iP(ULinf-'y  whi^n  we  havt  any  apt-cinl  Wesaing  to 
wei-k  IJom  Cioit.  \\.  IB  upLhktn  ui  in  this  view  with  jireal  huiicjur  iii  jStrtptiin-. 
til  uhaL-rviiig  it,  ii  devout  man  siiya,  '  I'll  liAve  iny  lumul  tis  much  sejmrateil  .ui 
I>f.isBil)]e.  ril  Tw  alone  ■v\'ith  God  this  day."  We  seldoiu  set  .i])utt  a  day  iii 
Hiich  a  epLrit  withmit  getting  gowl.  At  the  time  it  inny  be  felt  heavy  jmt- 
liaps,  but  j^oud  in  the  resiilL*^ — (P.  96,) 

Ainniij,'  many  !:;oi>J  remEirks  iii  a  lUscussion  on  theatncal  auiuse- 
irjentfl,  are  some  curious  and  characteristic  ones.  Mr.  B,  WoixU 
says. — 

"Mrs.  Mnre's  sacrr-it  iJram.is  have  don"  injury. 
idtrt  ol'  inuwencL-  with  the  drama. " — (r.  160.) 

Xow  it  do&s  strike  ua  as  dealing  somewhat  hard  measure  to  the  drama, 
to  find  hmlt  not  only  M'ith  its  aliu&e  in  t-hts  hauds  of  the  imnioni], 
Imt  also  with  those  who  havL'  att^mjitfid  to  ^"indicate  it  ftxnii  this  abuse. 
A  lucre  curious  reuiark  still  is  this  of  the  Kl'v.  \V,  J.  Abdy:— 

"Thu  iiiiitiition  of  thuiidtir  and  nthor  such  works  of  the  Almighty,  as  iu 
the  "wit<-"h  BCPiiis  iu  '  Maclx-th,'  I  thijjk  objm;tioiiahle," — (P.  161.) 

But  how  i.s  thunder  more  the  work  of  the  Almi;^'hty,  than  the  sound 
nf  till.*  human  voice,  or  any  other  utterance  in  nature  ? 

Tliere  ia  something  verj'  strikiujj;  iu  Mr.  Cecil's  saying,  in  this  some 
dfchfLtt',— 

"TliP  nliiio9]jher<?  of  the  ]>lay-hoiiaL'  is  juiiaouous.      I  romuuilxir  how  it  was 
with  myself.     I've  looked  iit  my  -n-fttt'li.     The  play  is  ahuost  done,     I  must 
go  tu  uiy  duuft^on.    Th+?re"s  my  father  gTwiniiig  with  iiis  intirnuties.    ThctvV 
my  motlii-'r  with  her  Bihle  !    What  uau  I  du  't    Is  there  aiiy  otht'r  place  o 
Why,  it  I've  ii  shiilJDK  in  my  pockut,  I'll  hnd  out  that  place. "^P.  1(>2. 

Some  of  the  subjects  digcusaed  have  a  curious  sound  to  our  cars; 
t;  g.,  "  Uy  what  arguments  shall  we  plead  with  tlod  to  deliver  us 
the  French  ?"     On  this  Mr.  Venn  remarks, — 

"If  i'nuice   pnjvail,   everythinj;   great    imd   frwl  ^^'dl    1»    oxtinguisiml. 
Yuu  nii^lit  OS  WL'U  hL'sitatt  ahmit  prjying  nguijiet  a  horde  of  lionB  and  tigurs 
as  against  the  Fn-wh.     'AriKe,  U  God,  and  uiiuutaiu  tliine  own   I'Jiusi.' 
Kver>'  man  Imd  b<>tt<-'r  die  at  onw,  than  oomw  under  thair  sway.     ]tuna|fai^^ 
is  Stttiin  iitTsouitied,  n.nd  hi«  Ifgions." — ^P.  335.)  ^H 

Yet,  if  tlirs  sound  strange,  wo  must  ri'member  its  date,  May,  1804^ 

when  the  terror  of  invasion  was  at  its  height. 

Here  is  an  estimate  to  which  we  are  not  now  accust*!iued,  of  tijc 

relative  impnrtnnce  tpf  a  clergj'maii'a  duties : — 
The  liev.  Basil  AA'oodd  :— 

"Many  miniatera  have  cau((ht  their  death  vwiting  the  eiiik.  Tlie  puljiit 
is  of   thw  lirst  importaiH-i^ ;  visitiuy  the  sick  is  suhonlinite."  j|^ 

And  Mr.  Cecil  snys,  in  the  same  strain, — 


Uctv  h 

cars; 


tl)C     , 


On'gincs  Evangelica; : — '^Eclectic  N'otcs."  613 

"  A  minister  is  not  called  to  go  where  a  physician  may.  It  is  the  iiliysi- 
tian's  sole  calling;  hut  the  minister  has  other  duties." — (P.  351.) 

The  following  would  startle  most  of  those  on  whom  the  mantle  of 
the  "Eclectics"  has  fallen  :— 

"  If  a  believer  presents  hia  chilJ  in  baptism,  disb(!lioving  baptism  to  be  a 
means  of  regeneration,  so  far  he  is  an  unbeliever." — (Rev.  W.  Fry,  p.  373.) 

"  The  baptized  are  incorpoiatwd  into  the  visible  Church  of  Christ,  and 
thereby  enitled  to  the  pardon  of  sins,  and  received  into  the  number  of  God's 
children,  through  Christ,  and  have  a  right  to  expect  the  Spirit's  influence 
80  long  ag  they  do  not  wilfully  violate  their  baptismal  covenant.  Tliey  are 
iKjrn  again,  or  regenerated  into  a  new  state,  have  entered  on  new  relatioiiH, 
are  obliged  to  lead  new  lives,  are  admitted  into  the  body  of  which  Christ  is 
the  liead,  and  in  which  the  Holy  Spirit  dwells.  This  is  baptismal  regeneni- 
tion,  and  what  ^vill  be  attended  with  the  renewing  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  wlierc 
there  is  no  obstruction  to  His  sacred  influence." — (Ilev,  Josiah  Pratt,  p.  377.) 

Some  allusions  are  beyond  our  comprehension ;  as,  for  instance,  in 

enforcing  on  parents  the  duty  of  engaging  their  children  in  works  of 

benevolence,  Mr.  Basil  Woodd  says, — 

"  Cut  like  Dorcas,  instead  of  drawing  strings  across  to  imitate  engravings." 

On  the  uselessness  of  attempting  to  teach  the  heathen  througli  the 

doctrines  of  natural  religion,  Mr.  Simons  says, — 

"  The  wolf  once  went  to  school.  His  master  said  he  never  had  so  unto- 
wanl  a  scholar.  He  got  over  n  to  f/,  and  skipped  to  n,  u,  s,  but  never  learned 
more."— (P.  432.) 

It  is  a  remarkable  circumstance  that,  among  all  the  various 
questions  haniUed  by  the  Society,  amounting  to  upwards  of  300, 
tliere  is  not  one  relating  to  tlie  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper ;  nor 
have  I  found  even  so  much  as  a  mention  of  that  ordinance  throughout 
all  the  discussions.  No  wonder,  that  the  next  great  oscillation  of 
theological  opinion  was  in  tlie  direction  of  sacramental  grace. 

The  historical  interest  of  the  discussion  at  the  Eclectic  Society's 
meetings  is  considerable.  On  March  18th,  1799,  the  subject  was, 
"  What  methods  can  we  use  most  effectually  to  promote  the  know- 
ledge of  the  Gospel  among  the  heathen  ?"  and  the  result  of  the  debate 
was  the  foundation  of  the  Church  Missionary  Society,  on  the  12th  of 
the  next  month.  It  was  to  be  established  "  on  the  Church  principle, 
not  the  ffigh  Churc/i  principle"  (Kev.  J.  Venn,  p.  98) :  and  the  maxim 
handed  down  by  him  who  survived  the  longest  of  the  three^most 
eminent  after  Mr.  Venn,  was,  "  It  must  be  kept  in  Evangelical  hands." 
Those  who  have  watched  the  proceedings  of  the  society  know  how 
thoroughly  it  has  kept  to  this  its  traditional  maxim;  while  many  who 
wish  it  God  speed,  and  are  deeply  thankfiU  for  its  work  in  the  world, 
are  sometimes  disposed  to  yearn  for  a  lai^er  spirit  of  Christian  charity 
in  its  counsels,  and  to  look  forward  with  no  little  apprehension, 
amidst  the  declension  and  secularization  of  the  great  Church  party  to 
which  it  belongs,  to  its  prospects  for  the  future. 

VOL.  L  as 


6j4  ^^  Contemporary  Review. 

A  discussion  was  taken  on  the  -ith  of  FeVtriiary,  1799,  on  tlie 
([ueation,  proposed  Ijy  Mr.  Pratt.  "  How  far  might  a  periodic^  pubU- 

mtioii  lie  i-eu'-lere'l  i.euli'servient  to  tlie  interests  uf  r«]igii)ti  ?"  tlif 
result  was  the  establisliiiieiit-  "if  tha  VhriAuui  Ol^trfrr,  wliicL  sliil 
holds  its  gi-oiuid  as  the  oi^jftti  of  s  pOTtion  of  the  Evanj^elioal  party 
Its  circulation  is  we  helievtt  not  lar^a,  fti'd  its  influence,  where  it  ilcii 
circulate,  certainly  nut  great :  Imt  occasionally  it  contains  thoHghtfiil 
pApej^,  and  reviews  of  hooks  carefully  and  fairly  done.* 

An  intereating  iiicidcnt,  forgotten  now,  may  serve  t(^  show  the 
spirit  of  Cathohc  Christian  charity  with  which  these  venerahle  fatlitrs 
of  Evan^jielicalism  were  animated. 

The  Directoi'sof  the  London  Miasionnry  Society,  in  1794,  purchaBt'iI 
and  fitted  out  a  vessel  called  the  Di'J\  to  convey  their  missionarif! 
to  the  South  Sea  Islands,  the  first  scene  of  their  labourp.  Her  first 
voyage  was  prosperous,  and  thirty  mission  nries  were  landed  in  Tahiti. 
But  the  second  voyage  ended  in  calamity.  The  vessel  fell  into  tliw 
lianda  of  a  French  privateer,  and  was  sold  as  a  prize,  twenty-nine 
missionaries  and  their  fanidie.'i  being  left  to  shift  for  themselves,  and 
subjected  to  great  liardshipa.  Tlie  inemhers  of  the  Cununittee  of  the 
Church  Stissiunary  Society,  who  were  iu  the  main  identical  with 
those  of  the  Eclectic  Society,  un  hearing  of  this  misfortune,  raiseii 
among  themselves,  and  sent  to  tlie  London  Missionary  Society,  a 
donation  of  a  liundi'ed  guineas,  as  a  testimony  of  regard  and  oon- 
■  dolence.  Archdeacon  Fruit  cit-cs  this  as  illustrating  "the  .spirit  of 
charity  and  kindly  feeling  which  the  Church  Jliasionary  Sm^iety  has 
always  shown  towards  all  other  kindred  societies  which  are  engaged 
in  the  same  work."  We  wisli  we  could  fed  this  to  be  uniformly  trnc 
witli  regard  to  the  attitude  assumed  by  its  tnembora  towards  tts  elder 
sifter  in  the  same  work,  the  Society  ibr  the  Propagalion  of  the  Gospel. 

On  the  whole,  the  "  Eclectic  Notes"  fonn  a  valuable  monument  in 
the  history  of  the  great  parties  hi  tlie  Knglish  ('hurcb.  If.  as  wo  mh\ 
in  the  beginning,  we  do  not  find  in  them  many  treiwures  of  theology, 
much  origiuality  of  conception,  or  wide  grasp  of  thoiii.ht,  we  are  at 
least  introduced  to  men  who  were  sowing  the  seeds  which  have  sfnce 
produced  fruit  in  the  Church  ;  men  of  single  purpose  for  their  holy 
work,  of  child-like  Bini])licity  and  lion-like  boldness,  working  against 
the  current  opinions  of  a  low  and  worldly  age.  And  if  iu  our  own 
time  those  iinworthy  opinions  have  in  any  measure  been  borne  down 
by  higher  and  wiser  maxims,  and  aUereit  for  the  better,  it  is  to  tljeao 
men,  under  God's  providence^  that  we  maiuly  owe  the  change^ 

•  We  miiy  cotite,  at  on  e"clc!ife  of  carelewneM  ia  tliv  prej>iirari»Q  of  this  serond  cdioaa 
of  "Eclectic  Notef,"  thnt  in  the  arcount  uf  the  parly  urit^rg  in  thu  CkrieCi'att  Oiwrcfr, 
ni6]itii>n  it  inailij  (in  1865)  of  tho  "prespnl"  Bishop  iff  Calcutta, — menniiig,  of  lourw?, 
SUhop  Wjlsoiij  who  ho*  heva  deed  many  j-oara. 


i 


DEAN    STANLEY   ON   THE   HEBREW   KINGS 
AND    PROPHETS, 


CredirMiin  llir  J^ieM  Clirtrrh.      Piui  IL     Fniin  SmuiibI  to  Uin  I'nirtirltjr.t 
Bf    Aktill^tc    rK.iuHVn    i^TA.Vi.ir.    UD,   Uiwd    uf    Wisliakuilar 

THROUOR  tliu  -wiultii'  niuiitlia  this  voliiiiie  liwa  been  in  tlie  Imnds 
of  many  various  aiid  diligent  i-caiiers.  The  gmvitr  theological 
students  have  been  suhniittiug  it  to  cluse  criticisni,  fclie  results  of 
■which  v,-&  shall  probtildy  soon  see  in  same  of  (Uir  M'sighty  onntem- 
jwrarit'S.     But  tlie  charm  of  the  vohiint;  is  an  greiit,  and  its  interest 

'  80  diversified,  that  it  has  equally  Bttracted  those  to  whom  theology 
is  merely  a  hmnch  of  ^cnenil  litenituve.  It  lias  l>et'n  read  aloiiil  in 
familiea  of  idiimat   every  teiupemnient,  sedulously  nsed  liy  sc'lio(>[- 

'  majters  to  make  Bdile  lessons  alluring,  and  the  cle:^  have  laid  it 
under  lari^re  contribution  fur  the  purfjuse  of  j^dvin^^  liveliness  to  dis- 
couraes  from  the  pui]jit.     it  is  our  evident  duty,  without   turther 

fidelay,  to  give  our  own  account  of  its  contents,  and  some  part  of  the 
impresaion  which  a  verv'  carcfid  penisnl  of  it  lias  left  on  our  rainds, 
The  author's  puaition,  too,  is  so  eminent,  the  re.'spect  iuHpired  hy 
his  character  is  eo  great,  and  his  contributions  to  historical  theology 
have  be«n  so  consideralde — and,  we.  must  add,  there  is  sn  mueli 
diaijuietude    and    anxiety    iu    nimiy   serimis     nunds    reganling    the 

iintluenee  exerted  by  his  writinfj;^,  tluit  longer  procrastination  would 

'neither  l>e  respectful  tu  hiui  nor  fair  to  the  readers  of  this  journal. 
A  great  dilHtulty,  liowever,  presents  itself  at  tlie  very  outset  of  our 

,  taak.    These  Lectures  cover  a  veiy  ]arj!e  space  of  Sacred  Historj- ; 

[their  contents  are  manifold  and  diverse  j  and  very  grave  tj^uestious  are 


6i6        ^^^        The  ConUwporary  Review, 

Taisecl  even  in  the  incidental  porhVms  of  the  work.  Tims  it  is  impossilile 
i\-it!iin  moJemtc  lirnits  to  |i;;ive  Imth  a  sketch  nf  the  narratives  and  the 
hiographies,  and  also  an  itniJypis  of  the  rtOi^^ima  TeFidt«  "which  are 
either  exprcsaei!  or  siig'gested.  Are  "vve  to  dwell  chiefly  on  doetritie, 
taking  little  notice  of  our  author's  Timrvcllous  power  uf  grouping  unJ 
deserihing?  or  are  we  to  g:ive  only  the  pit'tures,  throwing  all  the  moie 
serious  topirfl  into  the  sliade  ?  If  we  adopt  the  latter  course  rattier 
than  the  former,  it  must  not  Ite  supposed  that  ive  accept  all  the 
explicit  cnucliisions  wliich  we  do  nut  attack,  or  tlxat  we  ate  blind  to 
the  consequences  that  lo;»ically  ft'Ilow  Inmi  many  sentences,  i^hicli, 
though  lightly  pas&ed  OTcr  by  tht'  fascinated  general  reader,  will  inl'al- 
libly  catch  the  notice  of  the  theolo^iicat  eye.  It  seems  tn  us,  indeed, 
tlmt  in  l-egard  to  the  gidwtatitial  (jtiiteinent  of  positive  religiwis  trutli, 
this  volume  ia  a  satisfactory  advance  upon  the  forroer.  It  may  be 
Hiai  the  r)ean  of  "Westminstier  feela  more  than  previously  the  itpport- 
ance  of  diaarming  nnjnst  suspicion,  by  bringing  doctrinal  truths  mnre 
definitely  forward.  Or  it  may  lie,  that  we  om^elves  feel  less  than 
previously  the  want  of  such  definiteness  of  doctrine,  because  here  we 
tiud  ourselves  on  more  secula.r  ground  than  before.  The  history  of 
the  Hebrew  Monarchy  must  necessarily  ha\"e  much  in  common  witli 
the  history  of  other  monarchies.  The  details  of  the  Scripttire  narra- 
tive in  thia  period  are  profuse  and  minute,  and  even  on  its  Prophetic 
aide  it  has  points  of  closer  contact  with  our  own  times  than  iever 
could  l.>e  realined  in  refjarrl  t«  the  cai-cers  of  AbndianL  and  ^f-ises, 
or  of  Joshua  and  Eli.  Kor  these  reasons,  considering  the  peculiar 
bent  of  Dr.  Stanley's  mijid,  and  his  cnstflmary  method  of  dealing  with 
the  Bible,  we  should  expect,  a  priori,  this  votiimc  to  be  his  best ;  and 
■we  think  most  readers  will  ngree  that  the  expectation  is  fulfilled. 

However  this  may  be,  the  volume  undoubtedly  possesses  all  the 
meriff^  of  its  predecessor.  There  is  tlio  same  high  mora!  tone,  the 
same  diligent  use  of  materials  gathered  from  every  quarter,  the  same 
aeriies  of  pleasant  surprises  in  sudden  ctmtrasts  and  comparisons,  which 
are  almo.?t  always  appropiiate,  and  almost  always  unexpected.  Above 
all,  there  is  the  same  power  of  vivid  and  distinct  representation. 
Dean  Stanley's  faculty  of  putting  before  iia  living  characters,  and  (if 
we  may  use  the  expression)  living  facts,  and  of  cnnct'ntrating  au 
immense  amount  of  light  for  a  moment  on  a  given  point,  is  truly 
wonderfid.  The  reader  is  enabled  tn  gn  through  these  Lectures  with 
a  light  and  easy  step,  as  if  he  were  walking  in  the  freshest  air  over 
elastic  turf  scattered  over  \^'ith  Howera.  And  this  we  regard  as  uo 
trivial  advantage.  It  is  a  great  merit  to  have  written  a  book  on  the 
Bible  wliich  is  really  attractive,  and  which  the  most  impatient  laui 
read.  No  doubt  such  a  power  involves,  correlative  dangers.  There  is 
the  double  risk  of  too  readily  using  precarious  materials  for  tiie  elabw- 


lA.^ 


Dean  Stanley  on  the  Hebrew  Kitigs  and  Prophets.   6 1 7 

ration  of  the  picture,  and  of  subordinating  and  neglecting  graver  and 
more  important  subjects  for  the  sake  of  the  picture.  Nor  has  tlie 
Dean,  with  all  his  powers,  been  altogether  presen'ed  from  either  of 
these  risks.  But  these  Lectures  have  conferred  no  slight  benefit  on 
the  Biblical  student,  if  viewed  merely  ou  their  descriptive  side.  After 
studying  such  an  account  aa  that  which  is  given*  of  all  the  details 
of  David's  retreat  from  Jerusalem  on  the  first  sad  day  of  Absalom's 
rebellion,  we  feel  that  we  have  obtained  a  firmer  hold  on  the  history 
than  before.  No  one,  after  making  himself  master  of  all  the  incidents 
and  circumstances  of  that  cold  winter's  day,  when  the  book  written 
Jiy  Baruch  at  Jeremiah's  dictation  was  destroyed  by  the  Jewish  king, 
will  listen  with  quite  so  vacant  a  mind  as  before  to  the  first  lesson 
in  the  afternoon  of  the  15th  Sxmday  after  Trinity.f  And  we  hope 
it  will  not  be  quite  useless  if  we  endeavour  in  the  following  pages  to 
g:ive  such  impressions  as  the  Dean  has  enabled  us  to  form  of  the 
Hebrew  Kings  and  Hebrew  Prophets,  interspersing  here  and  there 
some  additions  and  remarks  of  our  own. 

The  first  portrait  in  this  gallery  of  Jewish  Monarchs  is  of  course 
that  of  Saul  ;  and  the  portrait  is  given  witli  most  lifelike  reality,  and 
■with  a  sympatliizing  kindly  treatment  of  that  mixed  and  perplexing 
character.  The  time  to  which  the  son  of  Kish  belonged  was  "  trans- 
itional,"— between  "the  patriarchal  and  nomadic  state"  which  was 
now  passing  away,  and  "  the  fixed  and  settled  state  "  which  afterwards 
became  continuous.  His  career  is  "  the  eddy  in  which  both  streams 
convolve."  J  And  his  characteristics  were  in  harmony  with  the 
requirements  of  the  time.  He  was  to  conduct  the  war  against  the 
Philistines,  who  held  the  greater  part  of  the  country  in  their  terrible 
grasp,  and  he  was  cliosen  in  great  measure  for  the  royalty  of  his  out- 
ward appearance.  Conspicuous  among  the  people  for  his  "  stately 
and  towering  form,"  he  was  like  one  of  the  heroes  in  Homer.  Dr. 
Stanley  compares  him  with  Agamemnon.  It  would  be  a  natural 
thought  also  to  compare  him  with  Ajax,  both  from  his  stature,  his 
madness,  and  his  suicide,  and  for  the  sake  of  an  obvious  contrast : 
and  there  are  passages  in  these  Lectures  which  surest  (whether 
justly  or  not)  that  there  was  something  of  Ulysses  in  David  ;§ — 

"  Tibi  deitcra  bello 

TTtilia ;  ingcnium  est,  quod  ej^et  modoramine  noatii. 

Tu  Tirea  sine  inentc  geris ;  tnibl  cura  fiituri  cat. 

.     .     .  Tu  toatuui  corporo  prodes : 

Nofl  aiiiiuo."[| 

The  circumstances  in  the  midst  of  which  Saul  was  summoned  to 
the  throne  may  appear  very  trivial,  but  they  were  not  really  so.  In 
that  strayed  drove  of  asses  we  have  "  stUl  the  cherished  animal  of  the 

•  Pp.  118-23.  t  Jor.  MATi.     Se«pp.  636-8. 

t  P.  fi.  (See  pp.  60,  72,  80.  ||  Ovid.  "UcUm.,"  ziu.  361-5. 


6i8  The  Contemporary  Rci'iew. 

Israelite  chiefs,"*  And  even  if  it  were  so,  we  must  remember  tliat  the 
morfll  iinport  of  Biblical  events  does  not  depend  upon  their  magrii^cence 
according  to  the  human  standard.  "  Tbe  asses  of  Smil's  father  are 
strayed  away.  What  is  that  to  the  Dews  of  a  kingdmn  ?  Gtwl  lays 
these  small  accidents  for  the  ground  of  ^freafcer  designs.  Little  can  we, 
by  the  beginning  of  any  action,  giiess  at  (fod'a  intention  in  the  con- 
clusion, "f  Our  author  does  apply  the  word  "  trivial "  to  the  religions 
part  of  the  first  transactioti  between  Saul  and  Samuel :  but  we  think 
without  siiffieient  reason.  He  uses  the  term  bftkshish  for  the  gift 
which  the  young  chief  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  seer.  This  surely 
brings  down  the  Prophet  to  a  level  far  too  low.  Rather  we  shouhl  view 
thiegift  ft.9  an  expression  of  subjection — as  the  Swpov,  or  gift  of  homage, 
which  was  to  come  back  in  ^uyptal,  or  gifts  of  favour  and  bounty,  from 
the  superioT-i  The  relations  throughout  of  the  King  with  the  Prophet 
ought  very  carefully  to  be  noticed.  It  is  in  comparison  with  the  uni- 
form and  consistent  goodness  of  Samuel,  that  we  sec  most  clearly  the 
irregular  zeal,  the  wild  impulses,  tlie  superstition,  the  fitful  changing 
temper  of  Saul.  Something  of  this  is  perhaps  to  be  explained  by  the 
trilKJ  to  which  he  l>elonged.  "  I  will  send  thee  a  man  out  of  the  land  «f 
Benjamin"  was  the  word  aimlten  to  Samuel.^  And  Saul  was  "a  true 
Benjainite  from  first  to  last,"  \\  not  merely  in  such  loyalty  and  family 
feeling  as  showed  itself  in  the  case  of  the  men  of  Jabesli-gitead, 
but  in  "the  strange  union  of  fiercencsa  and  of  gentleness,  of  smhlen 
resolves  for  good  and  evil,  which  nin,  as  hereditary  (qualities  often  do 
run,  tlu*ough  the  whole  history  of  that  frontier  clan."t  But  there  ia 
also  a  deep  and  most  paini'ul  inrlividual  interest  in  this  first  of  the 
Jewish  Monarchs:  and  in  this  Lecture  we  are  carrieil  mpiiUy  and 
vigotously  thruugh  all  the  varied  scenes  wliich  bring  all  this  interest  to 
view — the  victory  of  Miclunaali — ^the  confused  flight  of  the  Philistines 
down  the  defile  of  Beth-horon — the  reckless  vow — the  heroism  and 
genei-osity  of  tTonatlian,  faithful  alike  to  his  father  and  to  his  friend^ 
tlie  anguish  of  the  final  separation  from  Samuel — the  alternate  love 
and  hatred  for  David — the  gradual  gathering  of  the  gloojn  oi'er  llie 
king  and  his  fated  house — the  weiM  midnight  expedition  to  Endor 
— the  battle,  and  the  coming  up  of  the  "wild  Amalekite,"  when  8flid 
wag  sinking  in  "the  dizziness  and  darkness  of  death,"**  For  a  few 
pages  we  are  carried  on  to  the  close  of  the  tragic  history  of  his  house 
an.d  dynasty ;  and  then,  with  dramatic  propriety,  we  are  brought  back, 

•  P.  8.  t  Bishgp  Hall'a  "  Contemplatigns  on  tie  Old  TeaUmeni,"  sii,  4. 

J  The  conCroBted  nse  uf  theae  two  worda  la  vi-ry  consLaienl  in  tlie  Ntw  TcstomenL 
Cuwipftrc,  liif  instance,  Malt.  ii.  11  ;  iv.  5,-vrUh  John  iv.  Jtl;  Ephei.  it.  1.  Kee  "Eireni.-a," 
by  ihc  Itev.  \V.  K  Marriott  (Pt,  ii.,  p.  lBT},wlio  illugtnitOH  thsB  Enstem  ciistom  of  pliuiag 
a  gitt  of  ihoniiigu  in  tlir  hands  of  a  aupcriof,  that  it  may  \te  returned  in  a  for  richer  pft 
of  toyal  IioHQty,  by  tie  great  Durhu*  held  by  Sir  John  LawTeaiMJ  in  the  Pimjau-b. 

5  I  Sam.  Ix.  16,  11  P  12.  f  P.  «.  ••  P.  ». 


Dean  Stanley  on  the  Hebrem  Kings  and  Prophets.   6 1 9 

anil  the  Lecture  closes  with  David's  elegy  over  Saul  and  Jonathan, 
"  the  mighty  Archer  of  tlie  Archer  tribe," — "  the  song  of  the  bow  " — 
"  the  bow  which  never  turned  back  from  the  slain."* 

Next  in  the  series  is  a  wliole-length  picture  of  David.  We  had 
already  been  familiar  with  the  first  sketch  of  this  monarch  in  the 
"  Dictionary  of  the  Bible;"  but  here  the  figure  and  face  are  before  us, 
framed  in  the  historj',  and  carefully  finished  with  minute  individual 
touches.  One  Lecture  was  given  to  Saul.  David,  as  is  reasonable 
and  fitting,  has  three,  divided  according  to  three  obvious  topics, — his 
youth,  his  reign,  and  his  fall.  Our  plan  precludes  us  from  giving 
special  attention  to  the  Lecture  on  the  Psalter,  which,  though  linked 
on  here  to  David,  in  fact  was  parallel  with  the  whole  course  of  subse- 
quent Jewish  history.  It  is  not  now  the  tallest,  the  most  robust,  that 
is  chosen,  the  most  heroic  according  to  the  barbarous  standard, — ^but 
the  youngest,  the  gentlest,  the  most  despised  at  home,  though  univer- 
sally loved  and  admired  by  those  who  gathered  round  him  from  all 
quarters  during  the  course  of  his  life.  It  would  be  quite  impossible, 
witlwut  profuse  quotations,  to  do  any  justice  to  the  whole  of  these 
three  Lectureq.  We  can  only  indicate  a  few  of  the  more  salient 
points,  for  the  purpose  just  of  showing  how  David  appears  on  the 
canvas,  and  by  what  scenery  and  companions  he  is  surrounded. 

We  are  reminded  of  the  full  materials  which  we  have  for  the  most 
intimate  knowledge  of  David.  He  comes  before  us  throughout  in  thfe 
moat  vivid  personality.  We  have  even  the  meaus  of  fixing  his  actual 
appearance  in  our  minds — his  auburn  hair,  his  bright  eyes,  his  short 
stature,  his  grace  and  comeliness.!  We  commonly  think  of  him  as  a 
light  stripling ;  but  in  his  fleetness  of  foot  and  the  vigour  of  his  move- 
ments there  was  more  than  a  mere  supple  activity  of  limb :  he  was. 
doubtless  possessed  of  great  muscular  and  nervous  strength ;  and  pro- 
bably we  ought  to  take  this  into  account  more  than  it  is  our  custom  to 
do  in  thinking  of  that  moment  when  he  rushed  against  the  Philistine 
■with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  a  Divine  impulse.  Among  tlie  circum- 
stances, too,  which  belong  to  the  biographical  aspect  of  the  man,  we 
may  mention  the  beauty  of  his  children.  The  liouse  of  Jesse  seems  to 
have  been  famous  in  this  respect ;  the  ill-fated  Absalom  being  "  the 
flower  and  pride"  of  the  whole  family,  and  indeed  of  "  tlie  nation  :"j 
*'  in  all  Israel,  there  was  none  to  be  praised  for  his  beauty  "  like  him  ; 
"  from  the  crown  of  his  head  to  the  sole  of  his  foot  there  was  no 
blemish :"  while  in  the  next  generation  but  one,  the  same  character- 
istic appears  in  Maachah,  the  favourite  queeu  of  Rehoboam.  §  David's 
affection  for  his  children  and  his  kindred  was  passionate  and  intense. 
This  everj'where  appears  through  the  history.  Even  at  the  last,  when 
lie  is  dying,  after  having  worn  the  crow^n  for  forty  years,  he  is  still 

•P.  38.  t  l'.*9.  X  1'.  "5.  j  P.  391, 


620  The  Conte7nporary  Review. 

"  David,  the  son  of  Jesse."  *  Kor  among  the  circumstances  which 
toiid  to  bring  out  these  individual  features,  must  we  foi^et  his  close 
connection  with,  and  strong  attachment  to,  Betlileliem.  Here  was  his 
early  home.  In  tliis  neighbourhood  he  "kept  watch  over  his  flocks 
by  night."  Here  was  the  ancestral  burying-place.  To  this  sjwt  hia 
nephew  A-^iahel  was  borne,  after  he  fell  so  sadly  by  the  spear  of  Ahner.f 
Froin  the  fields  near  Bethlehem  he  gave  that  property  to  Barzillai's 
son,  whicli  we  trace  long  afterwards  in  the  writings  of  the  prophets.! 
"  He  never  forgot  tlie  flavour  of  the  water  of  the  well  of  Bethlehem." 
That  adventure  in  his  unsettled  wandering  life  does  more  tlian  a  world 
of  description  to  bring  out  to  view  some  of  the  marked  chaiucteristics 
of  tlie  man.  Above  all,  we  have  a  large  number  of  Psalms,  which 
reveal  to  us  his  deei>er  experience,  his  feelings  and  his  motives,  his 
joys  and  his  sorrows.  Leaving  on  one  aide  tlie  general  subject  of 
the  Book  of  Psalms,  we  may  just  point  to  the  23rd,  "the  first  direct 
expression  of  the  religious  idea  of  a  shepherd,  afterwards  to  take  so 
deep  a  root  in  the  heart  of  Cliristendom,"  § — those  which  may  belong 
to  the  period  of  the  wanderings,  such  as  the  31st,  the  '*  Fortress- 
Hymn,"  where  the  metrical  veraion  of  Tate  and  Brady  has  inserted 
"  Keilah's  well-fenced  town,"|| — or  those  which  seem  to  recall  the 
familiar  scenery  and  providences  of  those  days  of  danger,  as  the  11th 
and  18th  ^ — the  high  royal  resolves  of  the  101st  •• — the  solemn 
thankfulness  of  the  3rd  and  4th,  which  have  been  assigned  to  tlie 
evening  and  moi-ning  that  succeeded  the  first  eventful  day  of  his  fliglit 
in  the  revolt  of  Absalomtt — and  of  course  the  olst,  the  Psalm  of 
Psalms  for  the  penitent  souls  of  all  ages.  The  great  variety,  again,  of 
incidents  and  diameters  with  which  David  came  in  contact  through 
those  successive  changes  of  lii'e,  are  all  subservient  and  helpful  to- 
wards our  realization  of  that  remarkable  combination  of  differing 
qualities — that  union  of  sagacity,  discretion,  enthusiasm,  tenderness, 
courage,  generosity,  and  sympathy, — which  have  rarely,  if  ever,  lieen 
united  hi  any  man  as  in  David,  and  which  gave  him  that  extraor- 
diiiaiy  power  which  he  exercised,  and  still  does  exereise,  over  the 
lu'arts  of  men. 

Turning  now  to  follow  the  generjil  progi'ess  of  the  nation  through 
David's  life  and  reign,  it  is  interesting  to  notice  the  gradual  acces- 
sion of  the  tribes  to  liis  obedience.  Even  in  liis  yuuth  and  during  his 
unsettled  period  of  wild  adventui-e,  we  find  members  of  various  tribes 
forgetting  their  clan  feeling  and  attaching  tliemselves  to  liis  fortunes. 
In  tiie  stronghold  near  En-gedi  there  were  ali-eady  men  of  Beujamiu 
as  well  as  Judah  ; JJ  and  at  the  Court  of  Achish,  in  Gath,  Benjamite 
arnhers  and  slingers  are  conspicuous. §§      Gadites  swam  the  Jordan 

•  P.  13C.       t  See  pp.  47,  77.         J  1'.  *8.    See  p.  64.     2  Sam.  six.  37-3;  Jer.  sU.  17- 
}  I'- 51-     }|P.65,note.      1IP.72.      ••  JV  88-9.      ft  P.  123.      J:P-63.      JH'- '"• 


Dean  Stanley  on  t/te  Hebrew  Kings  and  Prophets.   62 1 

tliat  they  might  rally  round  him*  "On  his  march  to  Gilboa,  and  ou 
liis  retreat,  he  was  joined  by  some  chiefa  of  the  JManassites,  thi-ougli 
whose  territory  he  was  passing  ;""[•  and  his  warm  message  afterwards 
to  those  members  of  that  tribe,  who  had  taken  Said's  body  ft-om  Beth- 
shau,  was  both  politic  and  geuerous.|  While  reignmg  still  at  Hebron, 
he  had  deputations  from  "  all  the  tribes,"  specially  from  Levi  and  the 
sons  of  Issachar,  "  who  had  understanding  of  the  times,  to  know 
what  Israel  ought  to  do;"§  and  in  the  consecration  hymns  at  the 
reception  of  the  Ark, "  the  two  warlike  tribes  of  the  North,  Zebulon  and 
Naphthali,  are  conspicuous."  ||  It  is  evident  tliat  personal  influence 
had  much  to  do  with  the  consolidation  of  the  whole  nation,  when  he 
fomided  his  capital  on  the  frontier  line  between  Saul's  tribe  and  liis 
own.  We  must  not  dwell  on  the  military  organization  of  the  king- 
dom, on  the  officials  of  the  Court,  and  the  foreign  wars  of  this  reign, 
wliicli  are  described  so  completely  by  Dean  Stanley.  The  one  point 
on  which  chief  stress  is  to  be  laid  at  this  moment  of  the  history,  is 
Jerusalem.  From  tiie  time  when  "  the  City  of  David  "  was  made  the 
centre  of  the  religious  and  political  life  of  the  nation,  a  new  period 
was  b^im,  rich  in  ever-growing  prophecies  of  the  Messiah.  Jerusalem 
and  David  are  inseparably  connected,  and  lie  in  the  heart  of  all  our 
sacred  associations.  Even  in  the  Gospels  Jerusalem  is  "  the  Holy 
City,"  "  the  City  of  the  Great  King."t  Kven  in  the  first  great  out- 
burst of  Pentecostal  life  we  are  reminded  by  an  Apostle  that  David's 
sepulchre  is  there  "unto  this  day."** 

Tlie  best  Lectures  in  the  book  are,  in  our  opinion,  those  whicli 
relate  to  Solomo:!.  This  was,  perliaps,  to  be  expected ;  for  here  we 
have  the  Jewish  History  and  the  Jewish  Monarchy  on  their  most 
strictly  secular  side.  Nothing  can  surpass  the  admirable  way  in 
which  the  characteristics  of  his  reign  are  gradually  opened  and  spread 
out  l»efore  us.  It  is  pointed  out  truly  (perhaps  a  little  too  strongly)  in 
contrast  with  David,  how  few  personal  incidents  are  recorded  of  Solo- 
mon. But  on  the  otlier  liand,  ^e  have  a  lai^e  and  rapid  develop- 
ment of  the  relations  of  the  Hebrew  kingdom  with  foreign  countries. 
The  contemporary  Egj'ptian  monarch,  whose  name  is  made  known 
to  us  in  the  Jewish  annals  themselves,  may  still  be  seen  depicted  ou 
the  walls  of  Karnac."t^  "  This  reign  contains  tlie  first  historical  record 
of  the  contact  between  Western  Europe  and  Eastern  India.  In 
Solomon's  fearless  encouragement  of  ecclesiastical  arclntecture  is  the 
firstJJ  sanction  of  the  employment  of  art  in  the  service  of  a  true 
Religion.     In  his  writings,  and  in  the  literature  which  springs  from 

^      •  P.  64.  t  I*.  71.  X  2  Sam.  ii.  5—7.  §  1  Chron.  xii.  32.  ||  P.  84. 

ir  Matt.  V.  3a ;  isvii.  53.  ••  Acta  ii.  29.  ft  P.  166. 

\\,  But  doea  not  tht;  Dean  furgut  here  Aholiab  and  Bezalecl,  and  what  he  said  himself  in 
hid  fiwt  Tolume,  pp.  167-S  ? 


6?  2  The  Co7iiemporary  Rexieio. 

tlieij],  is  tlie  oiUy  Hebrew  couuterpart  to  the  philosopliy  of  Greece;"* 
while  iu  this  thousRudth  yeur  befure  the  Christian  era  we  are  "on  a 
level  "  with  Ihe  fatuiUar  begiiiiimj;  of  the  j.n*at  Classical  tiiaeS-+  Xo 
tuutacjt  of  sacred  history  ivith  yietieral  hiatury — we  may  say,  no  cuii- 
tact  of  it  with  modem  times— can  possibly  be  more  interesting.  VTe 
must  add,  tcni,  tlint  here  we  have  the  iHjfritiiiih!,'  nf  thai  worlj-wiiie 
C'ljimectiou  nl'  .Tudaigm  with  trade,  which  has  subsisted  e^■er  since. 

Tlie  "wisdom"  with  which  Solomon  was  so  hij,fh]y  favoured  is  to 
l>e  regarded  chiefly  as  <lenotiny;  praotital  sayacity,  tact,  discretioin,  a^J 
puuetmtiiig  and  eonipj-eheiisive  view  of  Iminau  charact«.T,  imh  the^H 
power  of  iiiaimgin«jt  puhKe  concerns  on  a  large  scale :  and  it  is  pHrticn- 
Ifirly  to  lie  rumemberejl  here  how  great  a  pait  of  the  duties  of  tlie 
Oriental  monarch  consisted  in  the  aihuinistriLtion  of  justice.  In  no 
respect  were  his  practical  wisdom  and  administrative  ability  more 
clearly  shown  than  in  his  establiahrneut  and  orj,'aiitzation  of  Hebrew 
commerce.  The  public  works  of  Solumon,  and  his  internal  arranf^e- 
iiienta  for  the  safety,  strenytl],  and  prosperity  of  his  kingilom,  are  well 
■ilescribed  by  Ewnid  in  a  few  vigorons  pages.I  Ab  to  those  external 
itilations  of  which  we  are  more  pm-titulaily  speaking,  we  see  no  reason 
til  doubt  that,  north-eaatwarda,  in  the  direction  of  Syria  and  Mesopo- 
1nniiii.  Tadnior  is  iilentical  with  I'alniyia,  and  that,  with  Biiallwt,  it 
WHS  uatabbshed  at  this  time  as  a  mercantile  depot  with  a  gartisoa 
As  regards  Egypt,  the  Kiny's  unliappy  inaiTiaffe  must  alnu4^  hnvc 
tended  to  keep  up  and  increase  an  active  trade  with  that  country; 
and  it  is  interesting,  too,  to  notice  the  nature  of  the  iniixjita  anil 
exporte— a  subject  into  which  Dr.  Stanley  does  not  largely  enter — 
horses  and  linen  yam  in  one  direction,  probably  oil  and  wine  in  the 
other.  Ikit  it  i.'i  thts  mercantile  iutercotii-se  with  rhLCuioia  which 
more  especSalEy  demands  our  attention.  It  is  evident  that  the  most 
elenjentary  lessons  of  political  economy  suggest  the  advuntage  of  a 
mutual  interchange  of  praducts  between  that  country  and  PaJcstiue;. 
There  were  indicationa  of  this  feeling  even  in  David's  reign  ;§  and  at 
a  much  later  period  of  Scripture  Historj'  wa  are  reminded  ||  how  natu- 
rally the  country  of  Tyre  and  Sidon  might  become  dependent  for  its 
fiK)d  on  "  the  King's  country,"  whether  it  were  King  Herod's  or  King 
Kolomon's. 

We  see  clearly  that  S^olomon  turned  his  active  mind  and  (wwers 
of  organization  very  vigorously  in  this  directiim.  Hiram's  fleets 
commanded  all  the  commerce  of  the  AVest.  The  l&raelites  them- 
selves had  Iiad  no  experience  in  ship-building,  nud  it  was  evidently 

•  1'-  168.  t  r.  163. 

;  " Gi-jchithta  dpi  Vulke>  ImucI"  (2iiii  Edit.,  I8q3J,  iii.,  pp.  3211-49.  Dr.  SlmiIcj, 
ttuugh  liU  (it^ntmeTit  fniil  groutilug  oT  bis  lubjects  \%  }iis  onu,  shows  on  cviilcot  wisb 
throughout  die  vuIueuo  to  tipri'sa  hie  obligatioaii'  to  the  i-CDineuL  tlfnu&n  llisimiaa  of  thfr 
Juwa.  \i  2  Bam.  v.  11 ;,  L  Cbron.  sir.  L.  N  Acte  xii.  20. 


Dean  Stanhy  an  tke  Hebi-ew  Kings  and  Prophets,    623 


P 
\ 


I 

I 


not  lifld  policy  to  place  T\Tiau  ratlier  than  Eiloimtc  sailnrs  in  tlie 
ships  which  traded  in  the  Eastern  seaa-  wlifle  Plioinicia  heTselt"  woidil 
obvioiLsly  derive  lieuefifc  from  this  large  development  of  Itermeiijaiitile 
relfttinua.*  Tlius  there  resulted  the  two  great  navies  whieh  are  ctm- 
nected  with  the  names  of  Tai-shisli  and  Opliir.  AVe  see  no  valid 
reason  against  ideritiiyinf;  these  l-wa  regions  with  the  South  nf  Spain 
and  the  South  of  India;  and  al!  the  dLBicultiea  of  the  Scriptural  ex- 
presaione  seem  to  be  Ruffiuiently  removed  (as  is  8ugj,'e5ted  here  in  a 
note)  by  aceeptin*;:  that  eircuniriavigatiou  of  Africa  which  Herodotua 
shows  to  Iiave  Ijuen  prohahle  at  a  very  early  period.  Sulonioii  went 
liimself  to  Ezicm-yiyber,  on  the  lied  Sea,  to  see  the  preparations  for 
pome  of  these  voya;j;as  \\  and  most  inten-stln;^  it  is,  in  cDmicction  with 
this  suhject,  to  notice  in  thu  Bui>k  of  Trovcrbfi  the  fi-etjueut  atlusions 
to  tride  ami  to  commercial  ]iro(inct84:  while  even  aea- sickness  is 
employed  there  tn  point  a  waniiiij;;  for  the  shameful  drunkard.'^  And 
far  dovvn  in  tJie  Hebiv w  nnuala  we  see  the  effects  of  this  mercantile 
greatneas  of  the  reign  of  Solomon.  TJie  head  of  tlie  Gulf  of  Akabah 
is  again,  tlnni«;h  unsucceasfnlly,  made  the  scene  of  nieramtilt!  enter- 
prise Under  Jehogbaphat,  in  conjunction  with  a  foreign  al]ianue;|j  ancl 
still  lat«r,  we  aee  eftbrts  of  the  same  kind  in  the  reigu  of  Uzziah ;!" 
■while  in  the  time  of  Almz,  the  loss  of  the  seaport  of  Elatk  is  one  of 
the  indications  of  the  wanili;^  powers  of  Judah.** 

The  articles,  too,  of  tltis  Soloraonian  trade  form  a  very  attractive 
subject  of  research,  Thus,  one  |)recious  import,  which  might  come 
by  either  the  eastern  or  western  lieet,  reapiiears  frequently  in  the 
history,  in  the  "throne  of  ivoiy"  of  the  kin^^g  of  -Judah.-t-j-  ia  the 
"ivory  palaces"  of  the  forty -fifth  I'salm, — whidever  the  oceasion  or 
ecetie  of  that  Psalm  may  be,— iu  the  "  ivory  Jiouse  "  which  Aliab 
iuact(«,  in  the  "  beds  of  ivorj'"  for  which  Amos  blames  the  luxurious 
nobles  of  the  North.JJ  But  almve  all  a  strange  interest  is  con- 
nected, not  simply  with  the  spices  nnd  precious  metals  and  fi-agiatit 
fllgum  wood,§§  but  stitl  more  with  the  monkeys  and  peacocks,  the 
very  narties  of  which  associate  thein  with  Southern  India,  and 
with  the  Southern  India  of  that  particular  period.||||  With  the 
mention  of  tliese  antmalg  we  come  upon  another  side  of  Solomon's 
nrtivity.  We  see  here  partly,  perhaps,  the  love  of  display,  hut  we 
apjiear  to  see  also  something  of  the  exercise  of  his  wisdom  in  the 

*  Some  of  Lhd  best  ebapters  in  the  Eats  Dr.  Eitto's  "Dull)'  Bible  lUustratioiu"  arc 
tliuw  w!ii<-L  ri'Iuu*  lo  Soliun&ii,  W'-r  p^pci'iolly  "  Thuf  Wi*ilom  of  Sulomofl,"  "  The  Roj-nl 
MerrhQnt,"'  ftnil  "  Tr^i Je  with  Egi-jit,"  in  iho  vulitme  oa  iXw  Kings  \  God  "  The  Gnrden  and 
the  Pool,"  in  tla-vuliime  aa.  the  I'wiical  Books. 

t  2  Chron.  viii.  IT.  J  ?.  2+3.  ^  I'^'J^'.  ^^^^-  3+- 

[|  Pp.  aar-s.        11  Pp.  134-ii.        "  1'.  459.        tt  r.  las-        It  V\>.  i^to,  aae-T. 

%\  Sl*  the  Attide un  ■'  AJgiim  WLimi,"  by  Dr.  i'fltbira  Royle,  in  Kittoa  " Cycioiwiliji of 

Biblifol  Liltinitiin'."     ||||  iSt-o  Max  Miiller,  "  Lect,  on  the  Science  of  Lan^ugc,"  pp.  2(^t-a. 


624  ^"^^  Contemporary  Reviem. 

direction  of  science.  And  if  this  corioaitj'  was  manifested  by  hiin  in 
reference  to  the  aoimal  wurld,  we  can  hardly  iiiiRgine  liiw  iiKiiflTerenl 
to  tlie  wurld  of  plants.  "  I  made  me  yitrdens  aud  orchardt?,"'  he  says 
in  the  IJook  of  Ecclesiastes,  "and  I  planted  trees  iu  them  of  all  kinJa 
of  fruits ;  I  umde  me  pools  of  water,  to  water  tbewwilli  tho  wood  that 
Tjiingeth  forth  trees."*  And  if.  as  some  travellers  assertv  there  are 
near  the  tmditional  pools  of  Solumoii,  "a  miBiher  iif  plants,  6elf-so\m 
from  age  to  age,  which  do  not  exist  in  any  otiier  part  of  the  Holy 
LaDd,"+  we  have  a  confinnation  of  a  very  mitural  conjecture,  and  there 
still  remains  a  trace  not  only  of  the  Eoyal  jMerchant,  but  of  the  Rojiil 
Naturalist,  "  who  spake  of  trees,  from  the  cedar  tree  that  is  in  Lelianoti 
even  unto  the  hyssop  that  springeth  out  of  the  wall :  he  spake  also " 
— -aiid  here  the  claaaiiiCHtion  ia  really  scientific — "  of  beasts,  and  of 
fuwl,  and  of  creeping  things,  and  of  fishes."  J 

This  train  of  thoug^lit  leads  laa  to  the  consideration  of  those  books 
of  Holy  Sciipture  wliii;h  we  are  alwuys  iii  the  haljit  of  associating 
■with  King  Solomou ;  and  it  ia  very  satisfactory  to  liud  that  Dr. 
Stanley  does  mo:it  distinctly  associate  with  this  monarch  both  the 
Proverljs  and  Ju;clesiaatea.§  He  might  uideed,  even  if  the  evidence 
had  been  less  strong,  have  been  under  some  temptation  to  accept  tliL5 
conclusion  for  the  sake  of  its  attractive  sj-uimetry,  and  thu  great  hel]j 
which  it  gives  for  completing  the  picture  of  Solomon  Aud  we  thiid; 
he  has  in  some  degree  yielded  to  this  temptation,  in  assigning,  with 
M.  Eenaii,  so  confidently  to  this  age  the  derivation  of  the  liuok  of  Job. 
It  is  tme  there  is  force  in  the  arguments,  that  the  uUusions  to  sudi 
animals  as  the  peacock  and  the  hipiwpotanms  lead  us  naturally  to 
think  of  Sulomon'a  collections,  and  again,  that  tlie  Gentile  relations 
of  the  book  are  in  keeping  with  the  wide  and  geneml  scope  of  his 
life  and  reign.  Rut  the  conclusion  is  far  more  precarious  iu  thia 
ease,  than  with  regard  to  those  other  two  books  which  the  Churili 
has  always  connected  with  bis  name.  And  cfitaiidy  those  Ijuuks 
help  ue  to  flU  up,  in  a  very  instructive  and  pathetic  manner,  the  full 
proportions  of  his  biogi-uphy.H  The  Book  of  Pi-overlia  ia  tndy  in 
liannony  with  all  our  im[ii'e.'5sious  of  Solomon,  whilst  it  holds,  as  Ur, 
•Stanley  shows,  a  most  important  place  in  the  sacred  Canon.  "  It  ia 
the  philosophy  of  practical  life.  It  is  the  sign  to  us  that  the  Bildo 
does  uut  despise  couimuu  sense  and  iliscretioJi.     It  impresses  upon  uis, 

•  EfoI^H.  \i.  5,  G.        -|-  "  Duly  BiTjIp  lUustrotiorg : "  ^'  Sitkmon  ud  tLe  KiBgB,"  p.lOl- 

X   1  King}  iv.  '&'A. 

^  Tbt- I'mviitlia  are  eiplicitlj- auigiie(l(p.  243)  to  Sc)IoiLioDaE.thair  chiof  antliar-,  and  pf 
Si-L'leakisli^a  it  \h  aald  (ji.  Soo),  thut  "  CLerL-  can  be  do  doubt  that  it  cmboilieji  Lhs  aenliitieDls 
whiph  wsre  beljcvod  to  hare  [iiweiJod  fiuni  him  at  thi>  i-Iorc  of  \\\i,  life," 

II  It  should  be  added,  tliut  Dr,  Slunlcy  (L3.<tign5  ihu  rantit-Iea  ulao  to  "  thci  nge,  if  not  to 
lilt  pi>n  of"  Srilomnn,  pnd  Bssomti-B  tlmt  book  wjtli  a  suppoaed  favoiiritc  resort  of  tJie 
King  near  Lebanon,  ovctlugking  the  plain  of  Dunaimia.     See  pp.  1B8^  240. 


Dean  Stanley  on  the  Hebrew  Kings  and  Prophets.   625 

in  the  most  forcible  manner,  the  value  of  intelligence  and  prudence, 
and  of  a  good  education  ;"*  while  its  method  of  teaching,  "the  illus- 
trations ftom  natural  objects,  the  selection  of  the  homelier  instead  of 
the  grander  of  them,"t  carry  our  thoughts  onward  to  the  Parables, 
and  to  Him  who  taught  in  "  Solomon's  Porch,"  and  who  referred 
with  emphasis  to  "  the  wisdom  of  Solomon."  Still  closer,  though  more 
melancholy,  does  the  connection  seem  between  the  Book  of  Ecclesi- 
astea  and  this  prosperous  unhappy  monarch.  "  It  is  the  bitter,  the 
agonized,  and  in  this  sense  the  most  true  and  characteristic,  utterance 
of  one  who  has  known  all  things,  enjoyed  all  things,  been  admired  by 
all  men,  has  seen  through  all  the  littleness  and  worthlessness  of  all 
these  things  in  themselves,  and  yet  not  been  able  to  grasp  that  which 
alone  could  give  them  an  enduring  value,  or  compensate  for  their 
absence."  t  No  part  of  the  Bible  is  more  sad,  none  more  seriously 
instructive,  than  the  account  of  the  later  years  of  Solomon.  Worldly 
splendour  and  voluptuous  habits  had  brought  on  satiety.  Selfish 
despotism  had  sown  the  seed  of  future  revolution.  The  enemies  of 
that  superb  kingdom  were  gathering  on  the  frontier.  This  part  of  the 
Scriptural  narrative  "contains  the  most  striking  witness  to  the  in- 
stability of  all  power  that  is  divorced  from  moral  and  religious  prin- 
ciple." §  It  is  clear  that  Dr.  Stanley — great  as  is  the  evident  pleasure 
with  which  he  has  elaborated  his.  account  of  this  reign — is  far  from 
extending  to  Solomon  that  sympathy  which  he  gives  so  ungrudgingly 
to  the  impulsive  and  inconsistent  Saul.  No  worse  character  could  be 
assigned  to  any  man  than  the  description  given  of  the  career  of  David's 
successor,  namely,  tliat  it  was  "  the  union  of  genius  and  crime."  || 

After  the  death  of  Solomon  we  enter  very  rapidly  on  the  diverging 
histories  of  the  two  separated  kingdoms.  The  causes,  so  well  drawn 
out  by  Professor  Blunt,  which  even  in  the  reigns  of  David  and  Solo- 
mon were  silently  preparing  the  way  for  division,  are  clearly  indi- 
cated. 1"  The  great  house  of  Joseph,  which  had  received  the  patriarch's 
special  blessing,  could  not  easily  forget  the  glory  of  Joshua,  Gideon, 
Jephthah,  and  Samuel,  or  see  with  patience  the  political  and  religious 
pre-eminence  of  Shechem  and  Shiloh  mei^ed  in  Jerusalem.  It  needed 
only  the  foolish  oppression  of  Kehoboam,  and  the  appearance  of  the 
popular  Jeroboam  on  the  scene,  to  excite  disaffection  and  complete 
the  revolution.  The  connection  of  Jeroboam  with  Egypt  is  one  moat 
interesting  and  significant  part  of  this  narrative.  Thither  he  had 
been  banished  by  Solomon ;  and  there — "  like  his  ancestor  Joseph  "•• 
— he  acquired  so  much  influence,  that  the  reigning  monarch,  Shishak, 
parted  from  him  reluctantly,  and  gave  him  an  Egyptian  princess  in 
marriage.      The   subsequent  progress   of  Jewish  history  was   most 

•  P.  243.  t  p.  247.  t  Pp.  257-8.  f  P.  248.  \  P.  2fi3. 

H  P.  272.     See  Blunt'a  "  Undesigned  CoinciUentca,"  Pt.  ii.  15.  ••  P.  27fi. 


626  The  Contemporary  Review. 

seriously  affected  by  this  connection.  We  find  Ilehoboam,  when 
strengthening  himself  in  bis  restricted  kingdom,  giving  prompt  and 
great  attention  not  only  to  the  fortification  of  the  metropolis,  but  to 
garrisons  along  his  southern  frontier.  "  The  reason  for  this  soon 
became  apparent.  The  great  Egyptian  monarchy  was  not  now  allied 
with  the  House  of  Solomon,  but  with  the  House  of  Jeroboam ;  and 
now,  for  the  first  time  since  the  Exodus,  Judah  was  once  more 
threatened  with  an  Egyptian  bondage."*  Jerusalem  was  actually 
captured,  and  the  Temple  lost  its  golden  shields.  But  again  it  was  in 
Egyptf  that  Jeroboam  had  become  familiar  with  those  outward  fonus 
under  which  the  Divine  Power  was  represented  and  worshipped ;  and 
hence  came  the  suggestion,  not  only  of  tlie  golden  calves  that  were 
set  up  in  Bethel  and  Dan,  but  also  of  the  formula  which  attended  this 
profane  consecration, — "  Behold  thy  gods,  0  Israel,  wliich  brought 
thee  up  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt."J  The  mark  which  Jeroboam  set 
at  this  moment  on  Hebrew  history,  and  the  mark  which  God  set  on 
Jeroboam,  are  impressive  for  all  time. 

From  this  point  the  Dean  of  Westminster  gives  the  annals  of  the 
two  kingdoms  in  several  lucid,  learned,  and  instructive  lectures.  In 
his  general  arrangement  he  does  not  exactly  pursue  the  plan  of  Ewald. 
But  first  he  follows  the  kingdom  of  Israel  to  its  close  in  the  Assyrian 
exile,  and  the  introduction  of  the-  new  settlers ;  and  thence  he  goes 
back  to  resume  the  history  of  the  kingdom  of  Judah,  which  then  he 
conducts  continuously  to  the  fall  of  Jerusalem  and  the  Babylonian 
Captivity.  If  there  is  some  disadvantage  in  following  separately  and 
in  succession,  from  their  source,  two  streams  wliich  are  not  only 
parallel,  but  very  close  together,  there  is  gained  on  the  other  hand 
great  clearness  of  representation.  This  plan,  too,  is  peculiarly  suitable 
to  a  volume  of  Lectures ;  nor  is  it  difficult  to  combine  the  two  his- 
tories at  any  point. 

As  to  the  spirit  and  tone  in  which  this  work  is  done,  we  must  say 
that  Dr.  Stanley  seems  to  us  to  have  made  too  little  of  the  evil  of 
separation  and  of  the  idolatry  with  which  it  was  connected:  and 
we  think  that  the  impression  derived  from  these  pages  is  not  quite 
in  harmony  with  the  feeling  left  by  Holy  Scripture  in  the  mind.  But 
leaving  this  topic  for  the  present,  we  must  here  call  attention  to  the 
instructive  way  in  which  the  author  sets  before  us  some  of  the  con- 
trasts of  the  Northern  and  Southern  kingdoms. 

Even  in  the  out\vard  aspect  of  the  two  territories  there  is  a  signal 
discrepancy.  "Tlie  fertility,  the  freshness,  the  beauty  of  Ephraim 
and  Mauasseh,  the  wild  forest  scenery  of  Zebulon  and  Naphthali,"§ 
are  even  now  remarked  by  all  travellers  as  opposed  to  the  barrenness 
and  bareness  of  Judah  and  Benjamin.     Nor  was  this  contrast  without 

•  P.  38*.  t  P.  278.  :  1  Kings  xii.  28,  \  P.  269. 


Dean  Stajiley  on  the  Hebrew  Kings  and  Prophets.    627 

its  effect  on  the  course  of  the  historj-.  Scenes  like  these  in  the  North 
may  i)Ossibly  lia\'e  had  some  share  in  producing  the  "force  and  freedom," 
the  "  life  and  energy,"  of  some  of  its  characters,  whicli  appear,  as  the 
author  remarks,  "nowhere  equally  in  the  Soutli."*  And  it  nmst 
necessarily  liave  had  some  intluence  iu  reference  to  another  charac- 
teristic of  the  Israelitisb  kingdom.  Here  "  the  Court  was  not,  as  in 
Judah,  confined  to  a  single  capital.  Shechem,  in  spite  of  its  unrivalled 
attractions,  never  became  to  the  North  what  Jerusalem  was  to  the 
South.  The  sovereigns  of  Israel  followed  the  tendency  by  which 
Princes  of  all  times  have  been  led  to  select  pleasant  residences  apart 
from  the  great  cities  of  state.  This  difference  arose  partly  from  the 
absence  of  fixed  religious  associations  at  Shechem,  partly  from  tlie 
succession  of  dynasties.  It  was  also  fostered  by  the  greater  oppor- 
tunities furnished  in  the  North  for  such  an  increase  of  royal  residences. 
In  the  territory  of  Ephraim — iu  this  respect  the  exact  reverse  of 
Judah — the  fertile  plains  and  wooded  hills,  which  are  its  characteristic 
oraanients,  at  once  gave  an  opening  for  the  formation  of  parks  and 
pleasure-grounds  like  the  'Paradises'  of  the  Assyrian  and  Persian 
monarchies.  The  first  of  these  was  Tirzah,  in  the  hills  north  of 
Shechem,  of  proverbial  beauty,  selected  by  Jeroboam,  and  during 
tliree  reigns  the  residence  and  burial-place  of  the  royal  house.  An- 
other was  Jezreel.  The  chief  of  all  was  Samaria,  which  ultimately 
superseded  all  the  rest."!  And  what  was  true  of  tlie  monarch  was 
true  in  its  degree,  and  for  the  same  reason,  of  the  nobles  of  the  North. 
Our  attention  is  rightly  called  to  "  the  stately  independence  of  Naboth 
in  his  vineyard  at  Jezreel,"  to  "the  lofty  hill  of  Shemer,  which  he 
woidd  sell  to  the  King  only  at  a  vast  price,"  to  "  the  great  lady  of 
Shunem  iu  her  well-known  home  on  the  slopes  of  EsdraeloD."J 

Other  elements  of  contrast  enter  more  deeply  into  religious  realities. 
Dr.  Stanley  presents  to  us  the  history  of  the  Northern  kingdom  as 
the  history  of  the  "  nation,"  §  while  the  history  of  the  Southern  is 
rather  that  of  a  "  dynasty"  and  a  "  city."|]  To  this  distinction  we  must 
somewhat  demur.  The  concession  is  immense  which  allows  to  the 
Soutli  the  unbroken  dynasty  of  David  and  the  Holy  City  of  Jeru- 
salem. It  is  true  that  ten  tribes  were  rent  from  the  twelve  to  form 
the  new  political  community;  that  "all  Israer'f  is  described  as  fol- 
lowing Jeroboam ;  that  the  "  God  of  Israel"**  sanctioned  not  only  this 
original  division,  but  likewise  at  least  one  subsequent  step  of  its 
progress,  in  tlie  appointment  of  Jehu.  But  our  author  so  speaks  of 
this  community  by  the  word  "national,"  as  almost  to  imply  some 
preference  of  it  over  the  other  community.  And  this  view  appears 
to  colour  some  of  his  minor  references  and  illustrations.      Thus  the 

•  P.  271.  t  Pp-  268-9.  *  P.  270.  S  Y^.  263-6.  ||  P.  381. 

D  1  Kings  xij.  20.  *<  1  Kings  xL  31 ;  2  Kings  ix.  6. 


628 


The  Conimtporary  Review. 


"twelve  stones"  of  Elijali's  nltar  nn  CiinnK!,  which  we  are  always 
disposed  to  view  ns  n,  syrahol  of  the  nnion  which  ought,  to  be,  Dr. 
Stanley  presents  to  us  us  »  s\iuln.i]ii;  Bimctioii  of  the  dLsunion  that  ls.« 
The  aspect  nndtT  which  lie  exhibits  the  subject  in  another  place  is 
far  more  reli^ously  nnd  instructively  true,  namely,  thut  God's  ^Tace 
conies  tn  help  when  drscnuragements  seem  <liirkest,  anil  overfln-ws  what 
we  might  L-mu-eive  to  he  its  appointed  ehitnueb.-f"  Fur  whatever  we 
may  say  of  the  "National"  character  of  tlie  Nnrtherri  kingrhun.  ita 
"I'ropheticftl"  character  is  undoubted.  During  the  period  which  is 
immediately  before  us,  the  activity  of  tlie  Prcjpliets,  the  scliotds  of  the 
l^rophets,  are  associated  witli  the  Noitli,  whilst  Propheey  wa:^  com- 
panitively  u  blank  iu  the  .Sotith.  There  the  main  interest  is  centnih'zed 
in  Jerusalem,  in  the  Temple  and  in  tlie  ]'iie3thorM.l.  The  eoiitrast 
indeed,  bo  far  ns  this  partieular  period  is  concerned,  may  be  approxi- 
mately summed  up  iii  the  antithesis  between  the  Triest  and  the 
Prophet, — while  it  is  never  for  a  moment  doubtful  to  which  side  the 
preference  of  I>r.  Stanley  inclinus. 

Unwritten  prtiphecy  rises  to  its  highest  point  in  Elijah,  at  the 
very  time  when  the  aposta.sy  (tor  ao  we  must  atill  call  it)  of  the  ten 
trilffis  shiks  to  its  lowest  point  in  Ahar  and  Jezebel.  Tlie  biu- 
graphical  interest  of  these  three  eharacter.s.  is  immense.  The  crisis 
was  treniendona.  "For  the  lirst  time,  the  chief  wife  of  an  I&raelite 
king  was  one  of  the  old  accursed  Canaaiiitc  race."  J  Tlic  inarriai^ 
with  Jezebel  seems  to  have  resulted  in  an  organized  effort  not  oidy 
to  eatBbliali  the  false  and  foul  divinities  of  Tjtk  and  Sidoii,  but  to 
root  out  even  the  modified  remembrance  of  Jehovah,  whit-h  was 
kept  up  by  Jen)boani"s  institutions.  She  stands  forth  in  thy  htsloty 
as  a  Queen  utterly  reckless  and  licentious  in  character,  and  yet 
with  a  strange  "  magical  ftisciuation."  ^^fierce — stem — regardless  of 
conaequences,  and  with  a  spirit  tinite  unbroken  even^LU  the  terrible 
retribution  of  her  Bad.||  That  name,  which  was  a  pniverh  anio%' 
the  Israelite  people,  mitiht  well  become  the  warnhig  of  Christendom 
ill  the  Apocalypse.  1[  The  wealaieas  of  the  husband,  contrasted  with 
the  strength  of  the  wife,  comes  before  us  as  one  of  the  moat  in- 
etructive  and  inipcessive  portraitures  of  Sijcripture.  Ant!  yet  there  is 
almost  a  certain  pathos  in  ^Uiab's  character;  at  least  thccu  la  a  parti- 
cular aspect  of  lus  weakness,  which  gives  defiidtauess  to  the  indivi- 
duality of  the  picture.  Wo  are  rlyhtly  reminded  of  that  "  |>ecTdiar 
mood  of  sadness"  which  is  described  on  two  occasions  in  him,  and 
"  in  no  one  else."**  In  the  character  aUo  of  Elijah  there  is  a  pathetic 
side.  Tie  ia  indeed,  the  "public  champion"  of  God  anil  of  the  cause 
of  Gk)d ;  but  ftrat  we  see  him  "  as  an  imlividual  &ull'erer."+t     There  is 

•  P.  SOS.  t  P.  375.  t  P-  2S«.  \  P.  288.  II  p.  ZZ\. 

ir  2  Kings  is.  22  ;  Rev.  ii.  20.  ••T.ait    See  1  King*  u:.  43;  «ai,4,  ft  J'- 2^8. 


h. 


Dean  Stanley  on  tJie  Hebrew  Kings  and  PropJiets.   629 

much  tenderness  in  the  recollections  of  Cheritli  and  Zarephath,  and 
almost  more  in  the  last  scene  of  all,  when  the  separation  from  Elisha 
was  impending,  with  the  yoting  prophets  looking  on  from  the  ledges 
of  Jordan.*  Elijah,  too,  has  his  weakness, — in  the  dejection  and 
impatience  at  Beeraheha,  and  the  unbelief  which  led  him  to  suppose 
himself  alone  in  his  loyalty  to  Jehovah.  Btit  all  this  only  enhances 
and  brings  out  into  relief  the  magnificence  of  his  rugged  nature,  and 
the  fearlessness  with  which  his  mission  was  discharged.  "He  stood 
alone  against  Jezebel ;  vindicated  the  true  religion  from  the  nearest 
danger  of  overthrow ;  and  set  at  defiance  by  invisible  power  the 
whole  forces  of  the  Israelite  kingdom."-f-  Elijah's  position  is  forcibly 
set  forth  by  Dr.  Stanley,  both  as  a  Prophet  and  as  a  precursor  of 
Prophets,  and  especially  the  latter.  He  says  that,  like  Luther,  he 
was  "a  Reformer,  not  a  Theologian." J  This  perhaps  is  hardly  fair 
either  to  Luther  or  Elijah ;  for  each  of  these  men  is  surely  in  some 
degree  to  be  valued  "  for  what  he  said,"  as  well  as  for  "  what  he  did." 
Still  it  is  true  in  the  case  of  the  Tishbite,  that  attention  is  called  to 
him  rather  for  what  he  "destroyed"  than  for  what  he  "created." 
And  certainly  "for  this,  his  special  mission,  his  life  and  appearance 
especially  qualified  him."  All  his  wildness — his  isolation — his  rough- 
ness— the  suddenness  of  his  appearances — his  swiftness  of  foot  and 
unexhausted  endurance — his  rough  garb — the  long  shaggy  hair  flow- 
ii^  over  his  back — and  his  large  rough  mantle  of  sheepskin — are  here 
most  vi\-idly  depicted.  Some  of  the  most  animated  and  impressive 
descriptions  are  found,  as  might  be  expected,  in  this  part  of  the 
volume,  such  &s  the  account  of  the  storm  and  stillness  on  Horeb,  and 
of  the  uproar  and  wild  fanaticism  of  the  idolatrous  priests  on  Carmel. 
The  concluding  scene  of  that  critical  occasion  is  set  before  us  with 
remarkable  life  and  beauty;  and  the  quotation  may  be  given  with 
adranfa^e  before  we  pass  on  to  Elisha.  The  Prophet  was  on  a 
declivity  lower  than  the  top  of  the  mountain,  "  in  the  Oriental  atti- 
tude of  entire  abstraction;"  the  attendant  boy  was  on  "the  highest 
ridge  of  all,"  whence  tliere  is  a  wide  view  westward  over  the  blue 
Mediterranean.  "  The  sun  must  have  been  now  gone  down.  But  the 
cloudless  sky  would  be  lit  up  by  the  long  bright  glow  which  succeeds 
an  Eastern  sunset.  Seven  times  the  youthful  watcher  ascended  and 
looked ;  and  seven  times  '  there  was  nothing.'  The  sky  was  still 
clear ;  the  sea  was  still  calm.  At  last,  out  of  the  far  horizon  there 
rose  a  little  cloud,  tlie  first  that  for  days  and  months  had  passed 
across  the  heavens,  and  it  grew  in  the  deepening  shades  of  evening, 
and  quickly  the  whole  sky  was  overcast,  and  the  forests  of  Carmel 
shook  in  the  welcome  sound  of  those  mighty  winds  which  in 
Eastern   regions  precede  a  coming  tempest.     Each  from  his  sepa- 

•  P.  320.  t  r.  290.  %  p.  291. 

VOL.  I.  3  X 


630  TJu  Contemporafy  Review. 

rate  height  the  King  and  the  Prophet  descended.  Ttie  eay  of 
the  boy  from  his  mountain  watch  had  liardly  been  uttered  when 
the  storm  broke  upon  tin?  ]ihiin,  nnd  tlip  torrent  of  Ktshoii  liejinii 
to  swell,  ITie  King  bad  not  a.  monient  tii  luse.  lej^t  he  siionkl  Iw 
■unable  to  reach  Jezreel.  He  mounted  bis  chai-irit  at  the  foot  of  tlie 
hill.  And  Elijah  was  touched  113  by  a  sujipiirtinj^  hand:  and  he 
snatched  up  bia  streaimni,'  mantle  and  twisted  it  rouitd  his  loins,  and 
amidst  the  rushing  storm  with  which  the  night  closed  in,  he  oat- 
stripped  even  the  speed  of  the  royal  horses,  and  ran  befoi'e  the  chariot 
— aa  the  Bedouins  of  liis  native  Gdead  would  still  run — with  inex- 
haustible strength,  t«  the  entrance  of  Jezreel,  distant  tbougli  visible 
from  the  scene  of  his  triumph."* 

Two  short  and  very  benutif'ul  Lectures  follow,  of  which  EusilA  and 
Jkhu  are  the  contrasted  heroes ;  and  here  again  tlie  biograidiicid 
interest  is  ven-  great.  One  sentence  in  the  lecture  on  Elijah  ^ves  the 
connection  wyll  between  the  ibnner  period  and  this,  The  Tishbite 
thought  in  Horeb  "  that  his  work  was  over : "  but  it  was  "  only  be^niiL" 
He  was  still  "to  anoint  Gentile  and  Hebrew,  King  and  Prophet" 
"In  the  three  next  names.  Hazael,  Jehu,  Elislia,  is  containeil  tlie 
histoiy  of  the  next  generation  of  larael/'f'  The  name  of  Hazael 
belonjjs  to  the  suhject  of  Syria,  to  which  «e  shall  come  immediately. 
As  to  the  other  two  uaiijies, — the  alimpt  t-atl  of  Nimslii's  son^his 
<leep  resen^e  and  tenacity  of  purpose— the  temble  rapidity  nf  his 
movements — bis  mad  driving  up  tn  Jexreeil — -the  death  of  the  two 
kings — the  brief  grim  allusiun.  in  the  words  addressed  to  Biitkar,  to  the 
time  when  they  two  sat  together  behind  Ahab's  cliariot — the  curious 
epi80<le  of  Jehonadalj — the  unsparing  slaughter  of  the  members  of  Uie 
last  royid  fanuly — the  utter  destructiim  of  Baars  images  and  Baal's 
priests — the  eatahliahment  of  his  own  dynasty  on  the  throne — an;  all 
given  in  the  moat  lively  iiarrtitive.  The  name  of  Elisba  demands  a 
longer  pause;  and  we  cannot  do  better  than  give,  in  Dean  Stanley's 
own  words,  the  general  impression  of  Elijah's  successor.  "  The  •suc- 
cession wiis  close  and  immediate,  but  it  was  a  auccessiou  of  contrast. 
.  .  .  Elisba  was  not  secluded  in  mountain  tustuesses,  but  dwelt  in 
his  own  house  in  the  royal  city-  or  lingered  amidst  tlie  sons  of  the 
Vroplmts,  within  the  precincts  of  ancient  colleges;  ...  or  wits 
sought  out  by  admiring  disciples  in  some  town  on  Carmel,  or  by  tlie 
pass  of  Dothan;  or  was  received  in  some  quiet  balcony,  overlooking 
the  plain  of  Kadmelon,  where  lied  and  tjible  and  seat  had  been  pre- 
paretl  for  hira  by  pious  liands.  His  life  \.m  not  spent,  like  his  prede- 
cessor's, in  unavailing  struggle,  but  in  widespread  successes.  .  ,  . 
His  deeds  were  not  of  wild  terror,  but  of  gracious,  soothing,  honaelv 
beneficence,  bound  up  with  the  oiibnary  tenour  of  human  life     Wieu 

•  Pp.  305-6.  t  V.  309. 


JU^ 


Dean  Stanley  on  i/te  Hebrew  Kings  and  Prophets.   63 1 

he  smites  with  blindness,  it  is  that  he  may  remove  it  again ;  when  he 
predicts,  it  is  the  prediction  of  plenty,  not  of  famine.  ...  At  his 
house  by  Jericho  the  bitter  spring  is  sweetened ;  for  the  widow  of  one 
of  the  prophets  the  oil  is  increased;  even  the  workmen  at  the  pro- 
l>hets'  huts  are  not  to  lose  the  axehead  which  lias  fallen  through  the 
tliickets  of  Joi-dan  into  the  eddying  sti-eam ;  the  young  prophets,  at 
their  common  meal,  are  saved  from  the  deadly  herbs  which  had  been 
poured  from  the  blanket  of  one  of  them  into  the  caldron,  and  enjoy 
the  multiplied  provision  of  com."  And  the  lesson  is  strikingly  drawn 
from  this  contrast  of  the  two  great  Israelitish  Prophets, — a  lesson 
all  the  more  valuable,  because  it  is  applicable  to  aU  men  in  common 
times.  "  Elisha  was  greater  yet  less,  less  yet  greater,  than  Elijah. 
He  is  less.  .  .  .  We  cannot  dispense  with  the  mighty  past  even 
when  we  have  shot  far  beyond  it  .  .  .  Those  who  follow  cannot 
be  as  those  who  went  before.  A  prophet  like  Elijah  comes  once  and 
does  not  return.  Elisha,  both  to  his  countrymen  and  to  us,  is  but  the 
successor,  the  faint  reflection  of  his  predecessor.  ,  .  .  Less,  yet 
greater.  For  the  work  of  the  great  ones  of  this  earth  is  carried  on  by 
far  inferior  instruments  but  on  a  far  wider  scale,  and  it  may  be  in  a 
far  higher  spirit.  The  life  of  an  Elijah  is  never  spent  in  vain.  Even 
his  death  has  not  taken  him  from  us.  He  struj^les,  single-handed 
as  it  would  seem,  and  without  effect ;  and  in  the  very  crisis  of  the 
nation's  history  is  suddenly  and  mysteriously  removed.  But  his  work 
continues;  his  mantle  falls  ;  his  teaching  spreads;  his  enemies  perish. 
The  Prophet  preaches  and  teaches,  the  martyr  dies  and  passes  away ; 
but  other  men  enter  into  his  labours.  .  .  .  What  was  begun  in 
fire  and  storm,  in  solitude  and  awful  visions,  must  be  carried  on 
through  winning  arts,  and  heaUng  acts,  and  gentle  words  of  peaceful 
and  social  intercourse ;  not  in  the  desert  of  Horeb,  or  on  the  top  of 
Carmel,  but  in  the  crowded  thoroughfares  of  Samaria,  iu  the  gardens., 
of  Damascus,  by  the  rushing  waters  of  Jordan." 

But  there  is  another  side  to  the  character  and  career  of  Elisha... 
During  his  whole  Ufe,  as  well  as  during  that  of  Elijah,  Syria  and  the 
Syrian  ware  form  the  dark  though  varied  background  of  the  history.. 
Much  earlier,  indeed,  premonitions  had  occurred  of  the  struggle  which 
the  Chosen  People  would  be  required  to  maintain  with  that  kingdom, 
of  which  Damascus  was  the  capital.     During  David's  reign  two  of' 
the  sons  of  Zeruiah  had  conducted  campaigns  in  this  direction ;  th& 
metropolis  had  been  taken;  the  Israelite  empire  extended  to   the 
Euphrates  and  the  Orontes ;  and  those  golden  shields  were  brought  to 
Jerusalem,  which  were  the  destined  ornaments  of  Solomon's  temple, 
and  the  loss  of  wliich  has  been  mentioned  above.     In  Solonmn's  own 
reign  the  power  of  the  Jewish  crown  was  easily  reasserted ;  and  how 
strong  its  hold  was  over  this  north-eastern  territory  is  sufficiently 


6^2  The  Contemporary  RevieitJ. 

sliiMvu  liy  what  hns  lieen  said  >n;foire  of  Baalliec  ami  Palmyra.  lint 
when  the  Xnrtheni  and  Snutheru  kingdoms  were  sqiarated,  the  Syrians 
grew  stToiJi^T  as.  the  Israelitpa  "heeiime  weaker  thrnii^di  division. 
These  wars  liidcnig  more  to  the  Nortlieni  kingdom  tliiin  to  the  Soutli- 
ern  ;  Imt  they  towch  them  Ixith  verj'  serii>iialy ;  and  they  brin^'  theni 
bi)th  IjefiiiY?:  owv  view  tncjether.  The  EilHr.iice  of  Ahidt  and  Jehnsliaphat 
ill  the  cavliei*  i»art  ut"  this  jierioil  is  ix-jimduced  in  the  aHiaiioe  itf  Jomni 
and  AlidKiah  in  the  later.  I-tu mot li-^' dead  is,  m  tf>  apeak,  the  lucol 
link  hfctweeii  the  two  histniieg,  as  Atluiliiili,  diiiit-'htur  of  Aliah,  i!aH;;htei'- 
iii-Iaw  of  dehoshiiphat,  is  the  jieisrinal  liiik.  Kutli  Iheao  point*  of 
coTuiection  are  set  before  lis  by  Dr.  Stanley  with  imieh  furee  ami  difi- 
titicitiipsg.  For  the  sigiiiHcant  history  of  that  I'rirmess  who  camei! 
into  the  veiiia  of-Tudah  the  jjoison  iiitiodufed  by  Jezel>ol  intJi  thtif^e  "f 
Israeh  appropriate  use  is  madtj  of  Eaciue'a  linely  conceived  "Atholie,"* 
To  see  the  signitiumiice  nf  "  the  ^letit  frimtier  forti-eas," — "  the  rallyiuj;- 
poiut  vi  tlie  Tmns-.Iipnianii:  tribes," — it  i,'^  enough  to  adduce  ihe  \[av^- 
tious  asked  wlieu  [;-uiisultati<.'n  "vras  held  re^nliiig  the  undeilakiuy  of 
the  war — "  Know  ye  that  Kamotli-gileail  is  onra,  and  we  be  still,  and 
take  it  not  out  of  the  hand  of  the  Kinguf  Wyria  f"  "  Shall  I  go  against 
Eanioth-f[ilead.  or  simll  I  forbeai'?"  or  the  question  raised  "when 
a  c-Ioud  of  dust  was  eeeu  approaching  ■Jezi'eel  from  (he  Ka»t,"— "Is  it 
peace  in  liaiuolh-gilead  T't  To  follow  till  the  alternations  of  the  war 
—the  possession  of  "atreetsi"  in  Sanmiia  by  the  Syrians— thu  posaes- 
sion  of  "streets"  in  Damascus  by  the  larsielites — the  giving  up  of  the 
sacred  treasures  of  Jerusalem  by  Joayli — the  league  of  Asa.  with  tiie 
Hyriana  aj^inst  Israel,^  reveiiged  long  afterwanls  by  the  league  of 
Israel  witii  the  Syrians  against  Hezekiali,§ — to  relate  all  this  is  impos- 
sible, "nie  highest  interest  of  these  JSyrian  wars  is  cou  cent  rated  in  tlie  j 
biogi-apliy  of  IClisha.  In  the  terrible  siege  of  Samaria  he  beoomus  the  | 
support  of  his  coimtrymeu,  "  the  life  ami  soul  of  the  patriotie  |jarty  in 
the  iu^■aded  kingdom,"  and  the  means,  of  baillijig  the  Sjimn  King. 
But  l>esides  this,  we  are  reminded  that  be  is  the  I'ltiphet  of  S}Tia  as 
w(iE  as  qf  Ismel,  mid  that  in  this  respect  he  marks  an  epoch.  "  It  i^ 
from  bia  time  tliat  the  Pi-opht^ta  of  Umel  upj^ear  as  t)ie  oracles,  as  the 
monitors,  not  only  of  Israel,  but  of  the  sunuuntUng  imtioTis."]|  This 
•' laj^r  comprehensiveness"  is  eagerly  seized  upon  by  Dean  Stanley, 
who  notes  witli  evident  9atisfai:tion  that  it  is  this  featiu'o  of  his  cha- 
racter which  is  canght  in  the  only  reference  to  him  which  the  Kew 
Testament  contains.^  Bnt  this  passage  concerning  Naaman  tempts  u« 
to  a  word  of  adverse  criticism.  Two  things  in  this  part-  of  Elisha's 
life  are  uoted  as  instances  of  victor)-  over  exclusivcneAS,  and  as  in- 
dications of  "a  gentle  and  catholic  sjiirit,"  namely  the  injunction  t*i 

•  aee  pp.  33fi,  394,  402.  f  1  Kingi  xaiL.  'i,  6,  13  ;  '1  Rings  \x,  IS.     Sw  Tip.  3*3.*, 

J  P.  386.  i  P.  4».  II  P.  344.  t  Lute  it.  27. 


^^ 


Dean  Stanley  on  the  Hebrew  Kings  and  Proplicts.   633 

the  King  not  to  kill  thosB  M-honi  he  has  not  taken  as  prisoners  of  war, 
and  the  permission  which  is  understood  as  accorded  to  the  Syrian  to 
perform  the  customary  act  of  devotion  to  the  false  god  Kinnnon.* 
Now  certainly  Loth  these  acts  may  bo  included  under  such  general  terms 
as  "liberality"  and  "comprehensiveness:"  but  to.  be  merciful  to  an 
enemy  and  to  take  part  in  idolatry  are  "  compreliensive"  and  "  liberal" 
in  two  ver}'  different  senses :  and  it  appears  to  us  veiy  doubtful 
whether  the  simple  "  CIo  in  peace"  implies  any  such  definite  sanction 
at  all.  To  conclude,  however,  with  the  two  scenes  which  close  the 
career  of  EUsha  in  connection  with  S}Tia.  He  is  once  iji  Damascus 
itself;  and  his  interview  with  Hazael,  perplexing  as  it  is,  displays 
human  emotion  to  a  degree  not  usual  with  the  Hebrew  Prophets.  He 
sj)eaks  indeed  "  as  one  constrained  by  some  oveiriding  power : "  but 
"  the  foreboding  of  national  calamity  "  causes  tears  to  i-ush  into  his 
eyes.-f-  And  the  last  scene  of  all  is  very  affecting,  when  "  Elisha  was 
fallen  sick  of  the  sickness  whereof  he  died,"  and  the  old  Prophet  laid 
his  hand  on  the  King's  hand,  and  the  arrow  was  shot  through  the  east- 
ward wuidow, — "  the  arrow  of  the  Lord's  deliverance,  the  arrow  of 
deliverance  from  Syria."!  Speedily  and  very  effectually — and  with 
great  results  for  the  appointed  time— was  this  vivid  propliecy  fulfilled 
by  Jeroboam  II. 

But  at  the  period  at  which  we  are  now  arrived  another  power 
appeared  on  the  Eastern  horizon,  more  formidable  than  that  of  Syria. 
Uineveh  now  becomes  the  dread  name  at  which  tlie  hearts  both  of 
Israel  and  of  Judah  are  made  to  tremble.  It  was  probably  the  gi-ow- 
ing  might  of  AssjTia  which  had  made  the  successes  against  the 
Syrians  possible.  In  another  respect,  too,  this  moment  is  a  marked 
epoch  in  the  Jewish  annals.  Now  appear  the  Prophets,  whose  utter- 
ances were  committed  to  writing,  and  whose  writings  have  come 
down  to  us.  The  earlier  cycle  of  the  Minor  l^i'ophets,  from  Jonah 
and  Joel  to  Nahum  and  Habakkuk,  including  likewise  Amos,  Hosea, 
Micah,  and  Zephaniali,  covers  all  the  ground  of  the  history  fi-om 
the  conquests  of  Jeroboam  II.  in  Israel  to  the  reforms  of  Josiah  in 
Judah.  The  later  cycle,  including  Obadiah,  with  Ha^ai,  Zechariah, 
and  Malachi,  does  not  fall  within  the  chronological  range  of  this 
volmue.  Tliere  is  no  more  instructive  method  of  grouping  into  one 
view  the  incidents  of  these  250  years,  than  to  consider  them  in  con- 
nection with  the  warnings  and  encouragements  of  this  older  cycle  of 
prophecy,  defined  as  above.  For  the  ehicidation  of  the  five  earliest 
of  all  these  Prophets  we  liave  now  the  great  advantage  of  Dr. 
Pusey's  devout  and  elaborate  commentary  ;  while  for  the  connection  of 
all  these  Minor  I'rophets  with  the  History,  we  liave  the  extraordinarj^ 
penetration  and  ingenuity  of  Ewald.  Tliere  is,  indeed,  a  shrewd  and 
•  P.  346.  tP.  347.  '     J  2Kingsxiu.  14— 19. 


F 


634  The  Contemporary  Review. 

very  true  remark  made  by  Deaii  i\liliii:iii,  in  tlie  Prefaut'  to  the  last 
eJitiuii  of  liis  "  Histoiy  (if  the  Jews,"  Ui  this  eflet^t,  tliiit  it  would  lie 
satlBlactciry  to  see  EiviiUl  criticiseil  by  an  Ewald;  but  it  seems  ttgre«ii 
by  nil  lUlibi'iil  acliulars  thnt  this  ucutu  natl  able,  but  far  t^jo  self-cuufi' 
deut.  WTittT,  bus,  by  [mtting  toj^ytherscattcitd  notices  \\\  the  l^roplitts, 
wLicli  might  easily  be  overluoktd,  tliruwn  marvelluus  light  uji  the 
histiny  of  the  Jawish  iiiouai*uhy.  The  period  before  us  is  of  courae 
divided  iuto  two  portious^  by  the  destniutiuii  ipf  the  XortLeru  kiuy- 
dom,  the  Assyriau  Captivity,  and  the  first  establishuient  of  the 
Smuaritaiis  in  I'alestiue.  In  tlie  eiirlier  of  these  jiortions,  for  aliout 
a  liuudred  years,  takipg  cmr  Cocnmencejnent  Jroju  Uzziah  in  the 
Southeru  kiuydom,  and  the  second  Jeroboam  in  the  Kortheru,  we 
have  Jonah,  Joel,  Amos,  Aiid  Ilusuit  as  the  yteat  moral  teachers  ot" 
the  time.  Jonah  standi  indeiid  apart,  calliny  our  aLtention  to  t!ie 
heatheti  Nineveh,  not  to  anything  which  ia  taking  place  in  Israel  or 
in  Judah.  We  conceive  that  l)r.  Stanley  is  quite  correct  in  making 
him  the  earliest  of  the  Minor  Prophets;  and  whatever  be  tlie  ditti- 
cidties  connected  with  Juuah's  voyi^  and  mission,  the  Dean  Las 
pointed  out  ccjiivincinyly  the  high  and  pernmnent  moral  le-ssorw  ct 
this  part  of  tlie  Scriptural  Record.  ML'tinwliilc,  t\\'u  Propheta  JescriU-, 
in  poetry  and  parables,  the  moral  corruption  of  the  Nnrthei-n  kingdom, 
and  the  need  there  was  of  some  consolation  for  the  few  righteous  who 
remained.  Amos — rick  in  all  thu  paatond  imagery  drjtwij  fi-om  tlie 
neiglibonrliood  of  hia  native  Tekoa, — Hosea — with  lessons  coloured 
and  strengthened  by  his  own  bitter  experience* — jiive  iia  a  terribJc 
pictui-e  of  the  prevalence  of  drunkenness,  extendiuy  even  to  the  laihi-s 
of  Saniaria.-f  and  with  this  stiameful  vice,  its  attendant  e\-il8  of  dis- 
honesty, oppression,  profanity,  and  impurity.  The  vigorous  Lnvectivu.a 
of  these  religions  teachers  are  true  for  all  times  of  luxmy  and  self- 
indulgence.  We  are  reminded  that  when  Savonarola  "  wished  to 
denounce  tlie  sins  of  Florence,  tie  used  the  Prophets  of  this  j)e-ri<Hl  :w 
his  text-book.  His  sermons  on  Amos  are  almost  like  Amos  hinisi'^If 
mme  to  life  again."  J  So  too  are  tlie  enconiayeuierits  of  these  ProphiL't.s 
of  pei-petuul  force,  even  iu  the  worat  of  ttiiies.  Nowlierc  in  any  pan 
of  the  Old  Teat-anient  do  we  see  mure  clearly  than  in  Rosea,,  "  the 
power  of  the  forgiviiij^  love  of  Goil."§  Meauwhllei  the  mond!  condi- 
tion of  the  Southern  kingdom  wna  not  i,Teiitly  lietter,  notwithslaud- 
ing  the  continuance  of  the  line  of  David,  Rud  the  possession  of  the 
Temple  and  tlie  legitimate  Priesthood.  The  religious  reactinii  under 
Joash  and  Jehoiadah  had  led  to  very  iuiperlect  results.  Tlie  obser- 
vances of  worship  indeed  M'ere  atiictly  kept  up,  but  (as  has  IjeeJi  Um 
often  the  case  since)  side  by  side  with  luxury  and  vice.  The  "noblm" 
of  Judah  appear  now  as  a  conspicuous  clasa,  iiccumulaliug  wealth, 

•  See  f ,  370.  f  Amoa  iv.  ].  %  P.  35H.  fj  P.  nt. 


Dean  Sianiey  on  the  Hebrcnj  Kings  and  Prophets     G35 


I 


uppressiiig  the  potir,  and  luadiiij;  lives  iif  ijruH,ij,'Hte  display.  Mean- 
wkile  cnliiiuitiea  oi" various  kiiiJa  were  cIoblui;  round  the  country.  The 
pl^ue  uf  lucusta,  which  fills  thti  dii'i^e-like  puum  uC  Jciel,  was  dnubtleaa 
fi  literal  reality ;  but  it  was  also  an  iuiLJi^i!  uf  a  worse  aud  ukjk)  relent- 
less foe,  ■which  threatened  tlie  tliroiie  aud  thy  jieu]ile.  Nuw,  too,  the 
yoitheiii  tribes  haviiiy  Iwen  ilispeised  aud  replacud  by  au  alien  [lupu- 
latinu.  Judah  was  mure  than  ever  at  the  mercy  of  AssjTia.  ^Vith  Micah 
— still  sterner  than  Juel  in  his  deimuciatious,  still  more  distiiiet  in  his 
pruphecy  of  bltssiuy  in  the  far  L>fl' distance  » — we  come  tu  the  cuuteni- 
poraries  of  the  gi-eat  Isaiah.  "  The  reiyu  of  Hexekiah  is  the  oulmi- 
uating  pijint  of  interest  in  the  histury  of  the  Kiuys  of  Judah."f  ^itili 
hia  diliyent  reformatiou  of  Religion,  aud  his  delivemuce  from  Seu- 
uauherib,  ".lid  uut  save  the  country,  but  only  delayed  its  destruction. 
The  corrupt  and  disgraceful  reign  uf  Maiiasseii  Ibllowed,  At  this 
period,  TiJestine  was  the  delmtenble  gi'ouiid  between  the  two  mighty 
luonarchies  of  KL,'ypt  on  ono  side,  and  Assyria  on  the  other.  The 
convulsions  of  the  tiiue,  too,  wero  made  mans  terrible  by  that  ijii-oail  uf 
the  Scythians  which  left  it5  trace;  not  only  in  the  name,  l:5cytbopolia, 
which  thtt  old  city  of  Ueth-shan  received,  but  also  in  the  writings  of 
the  coutemporaiy  TixjijliL-ts.  At  tliis  time  Zephanlvh  (from  whom  the 
Openiuj,'  words  of  the  "Lits  ifo'"  have  beeji  bonuwedj  is  "the  herald 
of  the  great  catastrophe  whiuh,  step  by  step,  he  sees  advancing,"  and 
"  looks  out.  acwjrding  to  the  full  meaning  of  his  name, — the  Watchunm 
of  Jehovah, — over  the  wide  and  awful  prasjiect,  in  wliieh  nation  alter 
nation  passes  in  review  before  him  ;"  J:  and  Kaiicm  siugs,  in  what  have 
been  well  tailed  "  unrivalletl  lyrics,"'  the  dhgt!  oi'  NiJieveh>  whicii  soon 
Jiually  "  vanishes  frijni  view,  to  be  no  more  seen  till  in  qiu'  ihiy  the 
discovery  of  Uev  burled  remains  hiis  given  new  life  ta  the  whole  ol' 
this  portion  of  sitci*tl  hiatory;"§  whUe  Haiiakkuk,  in  the  prospect  of 
all  tliis  gennwil  overtlu-ow,  prochiLnis  the  principle  of  all  true  i-eligioua 
recoVieiy,  hi  the  words — twice  y^noted  in  the  .New  Testament — "  The 
just  shall  live  by  his  faith."  The  monarchy  of  Judoh  haa  one  more 
yteam  in  the  reign  of  Josiah,  but  it  is  only  momentary.  L^reat  as 
w«s  the  permanent  example  of  that  Kiuj^  for  all  futiut;  reformers,  the 
itmembuent  in  his  own  aye  did  not  reach  below  the  surface.  His  own 
fate  was  sudden  and  disastrous.  Venturiu'j  to  oppose  the  E^'yptiana 
in  theii'  northward  march,  lie  fell  in  the  plain  uf  EsLlraelon,  and  was 
brought  to  Jerusalem  tu  die.  Hia  elegy  was  composed  Ijiy  Jeremiah, 
who  uow  a]ipeara  ou  the  scene;  and  the  mourning  of  that  day  was 
never  effaced  ti'om  the  memory  of  the  Jews.  |j 

The  long  Lecture  on  Jjokrmjaii,  blending  as  it  does  the  biography  uf 
that  Prophet  with  the  story  of  the  final  catastrophe  of  Judah  and 

•  See  pp.  +45-G,  f  P,  4S1.  X  ^-  ■S03-4.  §  P.  373, 

Jl    2  Chron.  xiSV.  2A  ;   Zech.  xii.  11 — U. 


636  The  Contemporary  Review. 

Jerusalem,  is  one  of  the  most  interesting,  most  original  and  instructive. 
If,  in  this  short  sketch  and  criticism  of  the  book,  we  have  hitherto 
mentioned  only  the  Minor  Prophets,  and  now  conclude  simply  with 
Jeremiah,  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  Isaiah  and  Ezekiel  find  no 
place  in  our  author's  pages.  The  former  has  his  due  pre-eminence 
assigned  to  him,  both  historically  and  theologically ;  and  the  latter 
comes  forward  to  play  his  great  and  solemn  part  in  the  very  last 
scene  of  the  great  Hebrew  drama.*  But  our  space  is  limited,  and  is 
now  rapidly  narrowing  to  its  end ;  and  Jeremiali  deserves  our  especial 
attention,  from  the  touching  traits  of  personal  character  with  which  he 
stands  out  amid  the  crash  of  his  coimtiy's  hopes.t  The  pathos  of  the 
man  corresponds  with  the  pathos  of  the  history ;  and  the  Decline  and 
Fall  of  the  Monarchy,  and  the  personal  sorrows  and  bitter  experiences 
of  the  Prophet,  are  togetlier  told  with  much  feeling  in  the  Lecture 
before  us. 

After  the  dispersion  of  the  ten  tribes,  Assyria  waned  before  Chaldeea, 
or  rather  the  empire  of  Nineveh,  was  merged  in  that  of  Babylon. 
This  transition  of  the  history  has  been  well  given  in  Professor  Raw- 
linson's  latest  volume,  with  a  description  of  the  Babylonians,  or  (as 
the  Scripture  calls  them)  "the  Chaldseans,  that  bitter  and  hasty 
nation," — their  high  civilization,  their  learning  and  trade;  with  a 
description  also  of  the  character  and  policy,  and  terrible  cruelty,  of 
Nebuchadnezzar.  J  And  especially  we  may  call  attention  to  his  geo- 
graphical account  of  that  long  avenue  between  the  parallel  ridges  of 
Lebanon,  that  "Hollow  Syria"  (stretching  southwards  from  "the 
entrance  of  Hamath")  which  was  the  magnificent  high-road  of  the 
Babylonian  armies  on  their  march  to  Palestine.  §  Nebuchadnezzar 
defeated  Pharaoh-necho  at  Carchemish  on  the  Euphrates,  and  rapidly 
l>ecame  master  of  the  whole  country  to  the  Egyjitian  frontier.  Then 
follow  the  brief  reigns  and  dwindling  power  of  Jehoiakim  and  Jeco- 
niab,  the  Babylonian  occupation  of  Jerusalem,  the  desecration  of  the 
Temple,  and  the  beginnings  of  tlie  Captivity.  "The  nation  reeled 
under  the  blow.  It  seemed  to  them  as  if  the  signet  ring  of  His  pro- 
mises were  torn  olf  from  the  hand  of  God  Himself.  It  could  hardly 
be  believed  that  the  young  Prince,  the  last  of  his  race,  should  be  cast 
away  like  a  broken  idol,  a  despised  vessel,  and  that  the  voice  of  the 
young  lion  should  be  no  more  heard  on  the  mountains  of  Israel,  that 

*  Daniel  is  just  beyond  the  range  of  this  volume.  Thus  the  iniportaut  queatious  con- 
nected with  that  book  arc  only  mentioned  in  geneiiU  terms.     See  pp.  542,  589,  590. 

t  Ewald'a  "Prophcten"  (1840-2)  has  been  published  many  years;  but  the  introductory 
matter  concerning  Jeremiah  ia  very  copious.  Neumann,  in  his  recent  Commentary 
(''  Jereniios,"  lSd6-8,  p.  16),  points  out  the  close  personal  linka  which  this  prophet  hits 
with  the  hihtorj-  of  his  times- 

X  "The  Five  Grcat  Monarchies  of  the  Ancient  Eastern  VTorld,"  toI.  iii.,  pp.  328,  489, 
400,  501.  \  Hawiinsou,  p.  251. 


Dean  Stanley  on  the  Hebrew  Kings  atid  Prophets,    637 

tlie  topmost  and  tenderest  shoot  of  the  royal  cetlar-tree  should  have 
been  plucked  off  by  the  Ef^5le  of  the  East  and  planted  far  away  in  the 
mercliant  city  of  the  Euphrates.  From  the  top  of  Lebanon,  from  the 
heights  of  Bashan,  from  the  ridges  of  Abarini,  the  widowed  country 
shrieketl  aloud,  as  slie  saw  the  train  of  her  captive  King  and  nobles 
disapjiearing  in  tlie  distant  East.  From  the  heiglits  of  Hermon,  from 
the  top  of  Mizar,  it  is  no  improbable  conjecture  that  the  departing 
King  poured  forth  that  exquisitely  plaintive  song  in  which,  from  the 
deep  disquietude  of  his  heart,  he  longs  after  the  presence  of  God  in 
tlie  Temple,  and  pleads  his  cause  against  the  impious  nation,  the 
treacherous  and  unjust  man  who,  in  spite  of  plighted  faith,  had  torn 
him  away  from  his  beloved  home.  With  straining  eyes  the  Jewish 
people  and  Prophets  still  hung  on  the  hope  that  their  lost  Prince 
■would  be  speedily  restored  to  them.  The  gate  through  wliich  he  left 
the  city  was  walled  up,  like  that  by  which  the  last  Moorish  king  left 
Granada,  and  was  long  known  as  the  Gate  of  Jeconiah.  From  his 
captivity,  as  from  a  decisive  era,  the  subsequent  years  of  the  history 
were  reckoned."  *  The  foolish  resistance  of  Zedekiali  led  only  to  the 
terrible  siege  and  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  and  he  himself  was  carried 
off  an  exile,  and  brought  before  Nebuchadnezzar  at  "  Riblah  in  the  land 
of  Hamath," — the  above-mentioned  meeting-point  of  all  Eastern  roads, 
— where  the  conqueror  "  was  encamped,  awaiting  the  double  resiilt  of 
the  sieges  of  Jerusalem  and  of  Tyre."  t  It  is  liardly  necessary  to  men- 
tion that  last  shred  of  the  history  which  is  furnished  by  the  tragedy  of 
Gedaliah.     "The  Lamentations  of  Jeremiah"  are  its  natural  close. 

But  besides  this  cloud  of  sorrow  from  without,  under  which  the 
Prophet  lived,  he  had  to  suffer  from  the  wretchedness  of  discord  and 
party  spirit  witliin  the  city  itself.  The  mutual  distrust  which  divided 
friends  from  one  another;  the  insolent  resistance  of  the  King  to 
Divine  warnings ;  the  opposition  of  false  prophets ;  the  party  of  the 
nobles  who  still  clung  to  heathen  idolatiy ;  tlie  superstition  of  the 
Jewish  priests,  who  thought  that  the  Temple  itself  would  be  a  charm 
against  danger, — these  things  must  be  well  considered  before  we  can 
appreciate  the  long  agony  of  Jeremiah,  his  tender  sympathy  and  noble 
firmness.  He  is  the  central  figure  in  all  this  suffering  and  disgrace ; 
and  a  careful  study  of  his  prophecies,  in  conjunction  with  the  history, 
brings  him  before  us  in  most  distinct  individual  characteristics.  AVe 
perceive  this  all  the  more  clearly  if  we  contrast  him  with  Isaiah, 
whose  jiersonality  was,  as  it  were,  merged  in  his  propliecy,  and  with 
Ezekiei,  whose  residence  on  the  Chebar  dissociates  him  from  Jeru- 
salem, while  the  peculiar  structure  and  subjects  of  his  writings  make 
lis  think  far  more  of  his  visions  than  of  the  man.  Dean  Stanley  has 
naturally  compared  Jeremiali  with  St.  Paul; J  and  tins  parallelism 
•  Pp.  640-1.  t  P.  fi54.  X  Pp.  £U-19. 


638  Th4  Coniefuporary  Rcmcw. 

uitgLt  with  justice  have  Wn  camEil  fiirLlier  gtill,  Not  oiily  in  tlie 
"  t'Hscmfttiyi!,"' ou  the  uue  liiind,  which  Ue  exercised  over  his  friends, 
m\i\.  "the  tmidei' syiiiiHithy  which  they  receiveil  iruni  him,"— and  ou 
thi>  tithct  hatiJ,  in  the  solitude  ofgreiit  jiarl  ut'  his  mission,  when  "he 
had  no  imui  likeiiiiiided  with  him," — is  there  a  similarity  of  character 
iiud  experience  between  the  I'rnphet  and  the  Apijstle ;  hut  tliere  ts 
the  srtuie  commamiin^  insjjiratiuu  comhinenl  whh  stronjfly  markwl 
iudiviiluality — the  same  hitre^nd  cioumye  combined  witti  shriiikuiy 
seusitivtineas — the  same  dei!p  h>ve  iVir  Jerusulem — the  saniB  mpid  alter- 
nations of  styEe,  expressive  of  sudden  iiiteit^himgea  of  feeliny.  \Ve 
might  even  pursue  the  comparison  into  minor  details.  Jeremiah,  like 
.St.  Paul,  livLsd  a  Hie  of  celibacry;  he  was  exposed  tn  iminhieut  danger 
ill  the  very  Temple  precincts ;  he  was  more  than  uuL:e  imprisoue*!, 
sumetlmes  "with  a  certain  amount  of  freedom;"  and  Ilaruch,  like 
Onesiphoms,  was  "  nut  ashamed  of  his  chain."  Sucli  details  eulianw 
veiy  much  the  interest  with  which  we  eoutemplate  the  attitude  of 
Jeremiah  in  this  last  crisia  of  his  country's  i-uiii.  Such  human 
weakness,  if  we  can  tall  it  weiiknese,  j^ives  a  hiyliev  elevatiun  to  his 
holy  testimony  and  example.  Natumlly  "  the  most  retiring,  the  most 
plaintive"  of  all  the  Prophets — in  the  midst  uf  terror  irom  without,  and 
of  faction,  selfislmeas,  prejudice,  heathenism  within^ — stilt  he  is  "the 
soUtarj'  iurtress,  the  column  of  ii'un,  tlie  wall  of  hi-aas,  LmdiamajcU, 
unconfounded — the  one  grand,  inmioveable  figure,  which  alone  re- 
deems the  miserable  downfall  of  his  country  from  triviality  and 
shame;  for  forty  years,  day  by  day,  at  early  morning,  standing  t« 
deliver  his  mournful  warnings,  his  Bearching  rebukes,  in  the  royal 
chamhei- or  in  the  Temple  court  i"*  and  tliis  spirit  uoutinued  to  tlie 
end,  with  tlie  combination  also  of  most  praeticul  wisdom  and  pru- 
dence, till  the  captivity  was  complete,  and  he  died,  himself  au  exile. 
pD.Tilmhly  in  Kgyi)t.  "We  cannot  wonder  that  a  peculiar  I'eeliug  ol'  tlie 
dj^Tiity  of  Jei-euLiah  and  the  signiticancc  uf  his  career  continued  after- 
wards among  all  generations  of  the  Jews,  So  great  was  his  tnuiitiuuid 
fame,  that  he  has  been  caUeJ  the  Pati-on  Saint  of  Judcea.  We  read 
of  liis  appearing  to  Judas  llaccabteus  "with  gi^ey  tiairs,  exceedhi'; 
glorious,  of  a  wonderful  and  excellent  majesty ."'f'  "As  time  rolled  ua, 
he  became  the  chief  reifiesentative  d^  the  whole  prophetic  order,"— 
and  this  feeling  in  i-egard  to  him  may  illnstnite,  though  it  tloes  not 
explain,  that  rel'ereuce  to  him  in  uue  uf  the  Gospels,  which  lias  puzzled! 
the  theulogiaua  of  every  age.| 

Three  sidijects  lie  in  the  backgnnmd  of  nearly  all  thia  history,  and 
are  toade  the  occasion  of  separate  and  very  important  Lectures, — thu 
Ps&lter,  the  Temple,  and  the  rriesthiwd.  The  first  two  of  these  siil>- 
jects  are,  for  different  reasons,  in  the  highest  degree  attractive :  lut 

•  rp.  S21-2.  t  P-  *82.  I  Matt,  irrii.  9. 


Dean  StanUy  on  the  Hebrew  Kings  a?id  Prophets.    639 


I 
I 


llie  third  assumes  pecvdiar  iinporUiuce  Iii  this  volume,  localise  it 
■was  omitted  in  the  furriier.  It  was  Celt  to  hv.  veiy  atrange  that,  iii  an 
account  of  the  first  establishiueut  of  Jewish  insLitutiona,  scant  nutice 
sliould  Ije  taken  of  that  sacriScial  system  which,  hy  express  Divine 
appoiulinunt,  waa  one  uf  its  moat  promiueut  chafaeterialiea.  Nor 
even  now.  when  all  the  Hebrew  atmalsjhave  been  uiirolleJ  before  \\s, 
from  the  eall  uf  Abraham  to  the  cfaptivity  of  -lerusalem,  fh>  we  think 
that  due  prominence  is  given  to  the  I'riesthtiod  and  the  Sacritices. 
There  seenia  tJiroughout  to  be,  not  indeed  an  undue  enthusiasm  fur 
the  Prnphets,  but  im  undue  i-epugiiiiiice  to  the  l*rieata :  and  the  i-ecorcl 
in  the  liooks  uf  Clironieles  seeius  n!waya  to  lie  set  buibre  U3  as  liable 
to  oonaideinble  Buapicion  from  its  aauei'dotal  bias.  Yet  it  waa  the 
Vriests  who  saved  .lujish  fnini  tlie  fury  of  Athaliah,  and  Ijecftuie  the 
guardians  of  the  Munaruhy  at  a  eritiual  time :  ami,  settini;  aside  all 
queations  of  inapiratiou,  it  doea  not  seem  fair,  iu  the  case  of  n  people 
divinely  provided  with  the  priestly  element,  that  its  annals  us  pre- 
sented on  tlie  priestly  side  should  fail  to  have  our  cuntideni:e.*  But 
it  is  as  we  approach  tJie  hearing  of  Sacrifice  on  Christian  doctrine 
and  Christian  experieiiue,  tliat  the  ^[uestiou  assumes  its  must  serious 
importance.  Thu  whole  snl>Ject  is  discussed  herewith  f«r  too  little 
relerence  to  the  Epistle  tu  the  Hebrews ;  and  when  that  Epistle  is 
quoted^  its  htiiguage  la  preseuteil  to  us  too  much  us  if  it  were  mere 
illustration  taken  from  the  Old  Testament,  as  it  were,  accidentally. 
But  we  crave  sometliing  mfjre  than  this  when  we  look  steadily  at  the 
whole  Hpistle,  and  tliiiJi  closely  of  the  signirtcaut  connection  of  the 
two  dispensations,  and  when  we  combine  with  all  tSiis  tlie  refei'ence 
in  other  parts  of  the  New  Testament  to  "  the  Lamb  winch  taketh 
away  the  sin  of  the  world,"  to  "the  I'aschal  Lamb  sacriticed  I'or  un," 
to  "  the  Lamb  slaLii  from  the  foundation  of  tlie  world."  Must  true 
it  is  that  the  blood  of  duud)  animals  "  cannot  take  away  sin  -."-f  and 
most  true  that  David  says,  in  the  hour  uf  his  deepest  re^ientance, 
"Tluiu  desirest  not  BacriHce,  else  would  1  yive  it  Thee:" J  but  hi^ 
allusion  in  the  same  Faidm  to  the  ceremonial  "hyssop"  cannot  in 
faimuKS  be  set  aside;  nor  must  we  forget  his  looking  furiivaiil  to 
the  offering  of  the  Levitical  sacntices  as  a  happy  result,  for  which 
Oud's  favour  was  making  preparation.  It  seems  tn  U3  that  Bisltop 
Home's  old-fashioned  coniuient  on  the  51at  I'salm  is  far  more  Itelphil 
than  Ur.  iStauley's,  in  enahling  us  to  see  tlie  harni-unions  teaching  of 
varioas  parts  of  ticripture  in  regard  to  this  great  Bubjectof  Keconcilia- 
tiou;  while  we  believe  that  the  awakened  and  enlightened  conscience 

•  IX'iia  MiliiioiL's  ri'mnrka  on  thU  aubji'tt  {"  tliai.  of  ihe  Je-wV'  Third  Edit,  i.  862) 
OK  m  n  4ttt'«i-(;iil,  tonv.     Suei  aUii  lus  uute  w\  ibe  Boult  of  ChraiLiclcs,  p.  32S. 

t  tJta  till'  Effirauy  of  thy  Mosoif  Siwriflcefj  see  MdodonaeU'ft  "  DuiiD«liaii  Lotrtures  on 
tlie  Atuncmcnt,"  Apji.  lo  Lcvt.  I.  *  F«ii.  U,  16,     Sve  p-  112. 


640  Tlie  Contemporary  Review. 

is  uhvays  in  deep  hai-mony  witli  that  teaching.  We  must  confesa  to 
have  read  with  a  painful  feeling  some  parts  of  this  volume  where  this 
subject  is  touched ;  as  when,  in  giving  Ezekiel's  grand  announcement 
of  the  doctrine  of  individual  responsibility,  the  author  pauses  to 
remark,  that  "  the  doctrine  of  substitution  is  not  known  iu  any  form 
in  the  teaching"  of  tliat  prophet.*  Now  certainly  we  lay  no  special 
stress  on  the  word  "  substitution,"  which  is  nowhere  found  in  our  English 
Bibles.  But  we  must  not  expect  that  every  part  of  religious  truth  is 
to  be  given  in  any  one  book  of  Scripture ;  still  less  that  a  book  of  the 
Old  Testament  will  give  what  is  fully  revealed  only  in  the  New. 
We  are  most  anxious  to  be  entirely  just  in  our  criticism;  and  elsewhere, 
we  are  thankful  to  say,  Dr.  Stanley  does  speak  of  "  that  spiritual  near- 
ness to  God,  which,  through  the  life  and  death  of  Christ,  has  been  com- 
municated to  all  who  share  in  His  Spirit ;  "f  but  it  is  a  duty  to  be 
extremely  sensitive  in  regard  to  a  truth  which,  in  the  experience  of  the 
saints  of  all  ages,  has  been  felt  to  be  the  vital  essence  of  Christianity, 
the  strongest  motive  for  self-sacrifice,  the  encouragement  of  the  best 
religious  efforts,  and  the  stay  and  support  of  the  soul  in  grea£  tempta- 
tions and  in  the  moment  of  death. 

We  must  be  foi^iven  if  we  make  one  other  grave  remark  before  we 
finally  close  Dr.  Stanley's  captivating  volume.  If  we  regret  the 
absence  of  more  definite  lines  of  doctrine,  we  feel  also  that  he  has 
gone  too  far  in  a  mere  naturalistic  treatment  of  the  Bible.  This  is 
carried  to  such  an  extent  that  we  almost  doubt  whether  a  reader,  wlio 
had  never  heard  of  a  Revelation,  might  not  go  through  very  consi- 
derable portions  of  these  Lectures  without  being  made  conscious  of 
the  existence  of  a  Kevelatiou.  No  doubt  Dr.  Stanley  would  say  (and, 
in  a  cei-tain  sense,  most  truly),  that  by  bringing  the  Bible  an  Jiiivau 
with  ourselves,  we  are  taking  the  most  eHectiial  method  for  i-aising 
the  human  to  the  Divine.  But  there  is  also,  on  the  other  side,  the 
danger  of  bringing  the  Divine  down  to  the  human,  and  with  cnnse- 
quences  the  most  disastrous.  Tliere  is  a  levelling  process  canied  on 
in  vaiious  ways  throughout  the  volume,  wliich  seems  to  us  f o  tlireateu 
tlie  destruction  of  many  things  too  precious  to  be  lost.  I'rophecy 
appears  to  waver  in  Dr.  Stanley's  hands  verj'  uncertainly  between 
vague  presentiment  and  definite  prediction.  Josephus  and  eveu 
Slaliommedan  traditions  are  presented  to  us  as  if  they  were  co-ordi- 
nate authorities  of  almost  equal  value  with  the  Holy  Scriptures. 
Though  the  moral  tone,  as  we  have  said,  is  always  ver}'  higli,  yet  a 
very  imdue  stress  is  laid,  tliroughout  the  vohiine,  on  "  freenes.s  aud 
breadth,"  as  though  these  could  in  themselves  be  characteristic  of 
truth.  We  are  told  that  Saul  was  only  "  half  conveited,"!  and  yet 
St,  Bernard  is  blamed  for  saying  he  was  not  sa"\'ed.§     If  such  a  (pies- 

•  P.  669.  t  P.  428.  I  P.  21.  }  l\  36. 


Dean  Stanley  on  the  Hebrew  Kings  and  Prophets.    64 1 

tion  is  raised  at  all,  it  ia  surely  important  to  bear  in  mind  the  tre- 
mendous severity  of  the  New  Testament,  which  draws  the  line 
inexorably  between  tlie  sheep  and  the  goats,  the  tares  and  the  wheat, 
and  shuts  a  door  between  the  foolish  and  the  wise.  In  speaking  of 
the  wars  between  the  two  Israelite  kingdoms,  and  the  pulling  down 
of  Eaniah,  that  Geba  and  Miz^ieh  might  be  fortified  with  the  frag- 
ments, the  great  French  preacher's  saying, — "  Batissons  les  forteresses 
de  Juda  des  debris  et  des  mines  de  celles  de  Samarie," — is  quoted  to 
illustrate  the  duty,  "not  of  rejecting  the  materials  or  the  arguments 
collected  by  unbelievers  or  by  heretics,  but  of  employing  them  to 
build  up  the  truth."*  But  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  Bossuet 
speaks  here  of  tlie  absolute  "  ruins"  of  heresy  and  unbelief,  not  of  the 
adoption  of  tlieir  buildings  unbroken,  or  of  any  obliteration  of  the 
frontier  line.  Again,  there  seems  almost  a  mischievous  hmnour  in 
the  way  in  which  the  heretic  is  brought  forward  on  the  conser\'ative 
side,  and  the  orthodox  in  defence  of  what  is  precarious ;  as,  for 
instance,  when  we  are  told  that  Dr.  Colenso  retains  too  tenaciously 
the  traditional  titles  of  certain  p8alms,-f-  and  that  Calvin  suggests 
that  some  of  the  Psalms  were  written  under  the  Maccabees.  J 
Throughout  the  Lectures,  and  in  various  ways,  there  is  too  great  a 
disposition  to  treat  serious  differences  as  if  they  were  unimportant. 
Too  often  the  effect  is  like  that  of  a  beautiful  snowstorm,  which 
gently  hides  the  old  familiar  lines,  and  mixes  perplexity  with  our 
admiration. 

The  Dean  of  "Westminster  is  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  blame 
that  free  criticism  which  the  very  excellence  and  popularity  of  his 
works  render  quite  inevitable.  Some  indignation  indeed  must  be 
caused  among  his  friends  when,  as  has  occasionally  been  the  case, 
such  a  man  is  made  the  object  of  reckless  and  vulgar  vituperation. 
Such  language,  so  ill-directed,  can  only  recoil  on  those  who  use  it, 
and  promote  the  progress  of  opinions  which  are  felt  to  be  dangerous. 
But  it  can  hardly  be  a  matter  of  surprise  if,  even  among  those  who 
have  the  utmost  respect  and  admiration  for  his  character,  some  mis- 
giving is  mingled  with  their  gratitude  for  his  services  to  Biblical 
Science.  The  antidote,  however,  against  any  errors,  whether  of  defect 
or  excess,  which  exist  in  these  Lectures  on  the  Jewish  Church,  is  near 
at  hand,  and  is  to  be  found  simply  in  a  closer  and  more  careful 
study  of  the  Scriptures  themselves.  The  great  danger  is — and  no  one 
would  deprecate  it  more  than  the  Dean  himself — lest  these  two 
charming  volumes  shoidd  be  read,  even  by  theological  students,  not 
with  the  Bible,  but  instead  of  the  Bible. 

J.  S.  HOWSON. 

•  P.  386.  t  P.  587.  X  p.  150,  note. 


POLITICO-ECCLESIASTICAL   QUESTIONS:  OF 
THE   DAY   IN   ITALY. 


BUPPREB8I0N  OF  MONASTERIES — KKARRAKGEMEyT  OF  Clltmcn  PROPEBTV 
AXn   OF  THE   CTirBCir   EST.UILISKMEST. 

DISCUSSIONS  on  the  tiliolitidii  of  llie  inonasteriea,  and  on  tbc 
rearrangement  of  Chiirch  ptdperty,  as  well  as  of  the  Clnu'ct 
eatablishinent  itself,  appetir  Itkoly  tn  fnrm  one  of  the  gravest  occiijia- 
tions  of  the  present  session  of  the  Italian  Parliament.  After  tLe 
rejieatetl  attempts  made  by  successive  Govemnient-*,  diiring  the  last 
few  years,  to  nmve  at  some  satisfactory  settlement  of  those  vesed  ^H 
questions,  it  wonid  Iw  hazardous  to  predict  what  will  be  the  precirt  ^^ 
form  in  which  they  will  be  settled,  if  at  all,  during  the  present  session. 
Jieeent  cireumstanceB,  however,  point  with  f^Teater  pTObability  than 
beibre  to  something  being  done.  Tlie  financial  embarrassment  of  the 
country  continues  unabated,*  whilst  tlie  conviction  ia  general  that  the 
property  of  the  Church  forms  the  main  resource  readCy  available  far 
restoring  the  equilibrium  between  the  national  income  and  expendi- 
ture. ThiiS  fumiahes  a  poweifid  stiinulua  to  rarliament  to  attempt  a 
thorrragh  solution  of  the  rpnestiou.  The  woTd  nf  the  Onveniment  and 
of  the  King  himself  has  also  been  recently  pledged  to  the  country, 

*  The  genernua  iJen  of  rniEJn^  a  Dalioniit  subMrription  to  ivlieTe  (Iiia  pmbum^mral 
irna  put  Ajrtli  juit  uftcr  these  wgrde  were  written.  It  i*,  as  yet,  Iiw  tarly  Ia  jiidjfe  whal 
will  In?  tie  result  of  th)9  ymtriotic  nioTCDieiH,  bi!t  it  bns  nlrcrady  iiroJiued  an  oppr^-ialile 
elfect  in  itayiiig  ibe  recent  don-nwartl  tcnilcncy  of  Lhe  Ititlisii  frnid^,  and  ivatorint;  tbtnt  to 
eomewliBt  higher  quotations  in  tLii  prinuipal  monay  markLtts  ut  Europe.  It  is  to  Picdiuonl, 
(Lb  CtadJe  tif  ita  batioaal  fri-edom,  that  Jtaly  is  indebted  for  this  aa  for  so  many  other  nuUe 
eiamplea  of  pntriotic  seir-Mmlit*. 


I 


I 


I 


■with  more  than  iisiml  srhleranity,  that  a  settlement  shall  be  promptly 
madt 

Lnst  year,  nnt  long  l^efore  the  tlissolutinn  of  the  late  Parlifimeiit, 
an'i  at  the  very  moment  ^vhen  Vegj^ezzi's  miasion  to  Rome  was  under- 
taken, in  Tes^Kinse  to  the  Pnpe's  prnpnsiila  for  filling  up  the  vacant 
hishoprics,  the  Governmient,  rloiibtkss  anxious  to  coni^iliate  mther 
than  uritato  Rome  at  such  a  juncture,  withdrew  their  measure  then 
nnder  discussinn,  rather  than  accede  tn  the  pressure  put  upon  them 
by  the  more  advanced  party  in  the  Charnlier  of  Deputips.  who  one 
day  Buddeidy  carried  a  propoHal  that  thoae  monks  who  wished  to  eon- 
tiuue  to  wear  the  habits  of  their  order,  after  the  dissolution  of  their 
monasteries,  shiniW  not  in  that  ease  receive  their  pensions.  The 
withdrawal  of  the  Government  measure  was  interpreted,  rightly  or 
wTon«;ly,  by  the  country,  from  one  end  to  the  other,  as  a  marked  con- 
cession ta  Bonie.  So  strong  was  the  outcry  raised  by  the  press,  and 
in  public  meetings,  that  the  Govei'iiment  hastened  to  putiait  a  special 
circular,  addrease*]  to  all  the  prefects  of  provinces,  aoleundy  pledging 
themselves  tliat  that  measure,  so  long  and  constantly  called  for, 
slifiidd  lie  one  of  the  first  submitted  to  the  consideration  of  the  uew 
Parliiimeut.  And  when,  in  the  Koyal  Speech  on  the  opening  of  this 
Parliameut.  the  King  said,  "  The  Italian  people  iiiu-st  dise-ncimilipr 
themselvea  from  those  relics  of  the  pEiat  that  prevent  the  full  develo]]- 
raent  of  their  new  (national)  life.  You  will  therefore  have  to  deli- 
berate on  the  segrerration  of  the  Church  from  the  State,  and  the 
suppression  of  the  religions  cor|ioration8," — theso  words  wei-e  greeted 
with  prolonged  applause,  falling  short  oidy  of  the  extraonlinary  hurst 
of  enthuaiasm  with  which  tlie  whole  House  (with  the  exception  of 
the  very  eiiiidl  band  of  ultra-clerical  deputies)  greeted  a  preceding 
jmi-ftf^ph,  in  which  His  Majesty,  in  marked  accents,  annuimced, — 
"  On  the  close  of  the  last  legislature,  from  respect  to  the  head  of  the 
Church,  and  in  the  ilesire  of  giving  satiafactiou  to  the  i-eligiouK 
interests  of  the  majoritj'  (of  the  nation),  my  Government  entertained 
jjroposals  of  neg'itintions  with  the  Pontifical  See,  but  ibund  it  its 
dutv  to  cut  them  slinrt  when  the  rights  of  my  Crown  and  of  the 
nation  mif^ht  have  heen  oftended  by  them."  Those  who  witnessed 
the  storm  of  enthusiastic  applause  which  instantaneously  brake  forth 
from  all  quarters  of  the  House  on  the  utterance  of  th^-se  wortls,  and 
whicli  obliged  His  Majesty  to  pnuse  for  some  time  before  he  could 
jiroceed  with  hi^  speech,  felt  that  Itdy  hail  indeed  uttered  a  response 
Avhich  mu.'^t  have  echoed  stmngely  in  the  lialls  of  the  \'rttican- 
Accordingly,  a  project  of  law  was  drawn  up  afresh  by  the  late 
Minister  of  Grace  and  Public  Worship  (Cortese),  in  concert  with  the 
then  Mijiister  of  Finance  (Sella),  and  was  about  to  be  presented, 
when  the  fall  of  that  Ministry  caused  a  delay. 


644 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


Bnt  as,  on  the  reconalruution  of  the  iMiiiistry,  under  the  continued 
presiiieiicy  of  (Jeiieml  Lamarraom,  the  Curt^se-Sella  project  has  been 
dislrihutetl  to  thf  luenihers,  with  adilttiuaal  etiitistical  auJ  historical 
iuf'onuatiun,  and  has  Just  now  undergone  the  URiial  preliminary 
esauiinatiuii  in  the  permanent  committees  of  the  House  of  Deputies 
it  is  prt'smiied  that  the  Government  still  adheres  to  it  in  ita  essential 
features.  If  this  present  attempt  fails,  it  will  he  an  additional  illus- 
tration of  the  truth  of  the  Italian  proverb, — "Tro  tietto  e  fatto  va  nn 
jn^ii  tmtto."* 

Meantime,  we  shall  best  give  our  readers  a  ultaar  idea  of  the 
questions  uuder  discussion,  as  well  as  of  the  sentimeuta  of  Italian 
statesmen  upon  them,  by  drawing  freely  from  the  Coitese-Sella  pro- 
ject, and  ltd  itceoDipauying  Keport.f  For  whuLever  may  he  the  result 
of  the  present  attempts,  this  document  not  only  gives  the  main  statis- 
tical data  upon  which  these  questions  must  eventually  he  decided, 
but  also  undoubtedly  expresses  opiuious  widely  current  amongst 
eilucated  Italian  laymen,  and  to  some  extent  amongst  the  moi^ 
patriotic  of  the  clergy.     The  practical  points  aimed  at  are^ 

(1.)  The  entii'e  suppression  of  the  monastic  orders,  male  and  fe- 
male. 

(2.)  A  larg't;  reduction  of  the  existing  bishoprics,  episcopal  semi- 
naries, capitidar  Ixjdies,  iiud  buuelices  without  cure  of  soula. 

•  Pbrhapi  WO  flhouM  just  expUm  here,  for  the  benoftt  of  onr  rcnden  unacquainted  witK 
tho  <)<£tailR  of  Itnli.an  pnrliaDitiulurj  prot^turc,  that  llieir  mode  of  denling  vitb  a  liill 
uppenra  nimrly  ti>  ivvtrec  oiir  uwn  or-dcr,  f.r.,  inalooil  of  tliD  liill  bcisg  read  b  firat  time 
pro  fiH-md,  tinil  ngiiin,  qftirr  liisPWSftiQn,  a  se<?imtl  Uine,  anil,  if  kq  fur  spproTtd,  then  going 
througli  commiltce  ftn'  iIcIaiIliI  examiniLtioi]  and  nmeiLdmcuU, — on  ICuiian.  bJU  in  Jint  mb-- 
mLtted  to  earh  of  tho  ninu  penuanc-nt  committc^a.  intu  whiL'li  the  Houne  of  D^utim  it 
dividi^d.  Tl)>cj'  einiultiuieauslj'  examine  and  privately  discuss  tbc-  meoaurc,  and  rnggcct  ' 
trMfh  amRiidniii'lita  US  Occur  to  thi^bl.  A  Contmiawit^  ia  [Letl  UoUiinated  by  rarh  cacnmitlect, 
to  n>pott  its  roncluaiima  to  his  brfthi'en  nflmiuated  bj-  the  othnr  c&mmittees.  TheBO  nifn. 
members  tlius  constiEute  a  sc-ln^t  committee,  wbo  agun  disctif^  the  rarioiiB  suggeAiont 
made  by  tlieir  respective  pi:<rni&uctkt  caniniilleeia,  and  flaally  B.grcG  on  ttc  modi^ed  shiip* 
in  wMch  the  bUl  shall  bi-  laid  Veftitw  tin;  Hgu&e,  wltli  a  rvpiijrt  leinbodting  tlivit  propwed 
chunks  and  Xhv  rPASoni  far  theniv  It  ia  bip<>u  tlie  bUl  thus  modified  that  tho  parlianieDterf 
flii«i^iisaiuiv  IS  then  taken-  In  this  wn.)!  a  Govemnielil  mc-aaure  may  cume  l>*;forc  the  HcniM 
profoundlT  modified.  This  wns  the  coic  twdrii  monthi  ago,  ■wb.on  a  project  s*im.ewhttl 
similnr  ia  thf  present  waa  CHBentifllly  alt*fcd  by  Ih*  seleot  committee  of  whifh  BaratL 
fiicuoli  wna  thu  prf^drnt.  That  >(7on)mittep,  tovi-cvcr,  •vta  not  una-niuouB,  ud,  on  thft 
ganflrBl  diBsiuaion,  the  IIouso  rejected  wliiit  was  in  truth  a  neu'  lueonu^,  of  Alt  bolder  sad 
nuiro  dedaive  chonuter  than  ibo  original  project.  Wo  will  indicate  uftemrds  tho  msia 
changes  proposed  by  Ricaaoliin  a^lect  t'oniiuitte?. 

t  Tn  Signor  Carlo  Lievre,  See-pi-r  of  tte  Arc'hivos,  and  other  official*  connect wl  wntL  ii« 
Chnniber  of  Deputies,  the  henrty  thanks  of  EngHab  iHsitors  are  due  for  the  great  i-onrtesy 
nnd  kindnifSB  \hty  «boir  iu  fumisHng'  information.  The  writer  of  LhiA  BOtii.«  cmried'uo 
jntioductions,  but  fimply  proaetited  hiniBtlf  as  an  oniiMary  Engliah  triTeller  in  scftrch  of 
juforoiutioji.  Signor  14<'vre,  on  fumiBhing  him  with  documvnti,  Itiadly  "rroto,  "I  am 
hnppy  in  being  able  to  obligv  R  eitiz^o.  of  tb&C  noHe  c-gunti^',  flaglaud,  fur  which  I  nounalk 
profound  jynipotliy  of  long  stoading-" 


•/- 


Poliiuo-Eccksiastkal  Queslmts  of  l/ie  Day  in  Italy.    645 


(3.)  Tlie  gradual  sale,  witliin  ten  years,  of  the  real  property  of  the 
Church — includiDg  that  of  the  secular  clei^yy,  as  well  as  of  the 
suppressed  religioa**  orders:  the  proceeds  to  be  iuvested  in  the  na- 
tdctual  funds,  tmd  applied  (1)  to  paymeat  of  pensions  to  the  exieting 
mouJcs  and  mms;  (2)  to  expenses  of  pubhc  worship;  and  (3)  to  pay- 
ment of  the  ecclesiastical  stipends  i-ecoguised  by  the  State.  In  order 
to  make  clear  this  last  expressioji,  it  nmst  be  iiiideratood  that  the 
State,  according  to  thiJ)  project,  does  not  wish  to  consider  the  clergy 
a3  its  direct  sfcipendisiritjs  (r.j.,  as  in  France  and  Belgium) ;  tut  in  the 
TeAiraiigeinent  of  thij  Ulinrcli  projierty  the  State  reserves  to  it$elf 
the  right  of  fixinfT  the  tuimljee  of  bishoprica,  and  othet  ecclesiastical 
tf^ities  and  parocliifll  benefices,  whose  legal  eiisfcencc  and  stipends 
H  ■will  recfigiiise.  It  is  proposed  that  the  stipends  allotted  to  these 
shall  be  inscribed  in  the  great  book  of  the  national  debt,  in  the  names 
and  interest  of  the  respective  holders  of  these  ecclesiastical  benefices; 
thus  securinfj  them  a  somewhat  more  independent  position  (at  least 
in  appearance)  than  that  rif  clergj*  directly  asdaried  by  the  State. 
They  will,  in  sliort,  stand  on  the  footing  of  all  other  persons  wlio 
have  invested  in  the  public  funds.  Also  the  churches,  ecclesiasticiLl 
residences,  and  ailjoiniiig  gardens  and  seminaries,  thus  recofinised  by 
the  Stat*,  will  not  be  included  in  the  sale  of  the  rest  of  the  projierty 
of  the  Church,  but  udll  remain  attached  to  their  respective  Ijenetices. 

(4.)  The  State,  it  is  hoped,  will  be  lai^ely  benefited  by  these  mea- 
siu^s ; — (1)  From  the  imlochin'f  of  a  vast  amount  of  lands  lunv  lying 
eom]>ftratively  unproductive  in  the  hanJs  of  monastic  and  other 
religious  corporations.  These  hmds,  it  is  expected^  will  Ite  readily 
pincha-^ed  iinil  improved  by  numcTous  proprietors,  i'l)  From  the 
siiriihia  accruing  after  defraying  the  payments  above-mentioned. 
This  surplus  will  relieve  the  State  of  some  existing  expenditure  for 
Church  purposes,  and  will  \mA\\  to  ilt'fray  the  e.vpenaes  of  national 
education,  and  public  uhai-itable  institutions,  as  hospitals,  &c.  The 
poorer  parochial  clergy  will  also  Ije  Ijeueiited  by  an  increase  of  their 
stipends, — the  mimiRitm  to  l>e  fixed  at  800  Jranes  per  annum,^so 
that  reckoning,  aa  we  fairly  may,  a  franc  in  Italy  as  equivalent  to 
a  shilling  in  England,  for  what  it  will  bring  the  owner,  the  poorest 
curates  will  thus  become  "passing  rich  on  £40  a  year."  When  we 
leani  that  at  present  there  are  in  Italy  more  than  10^000  benefices 
the  annual  income  of  which  is  under  800  franca,  we  can  better 
1  appreciate  this  feature  of  the  scheme. 

The  entire  praject,  howeYe7^  besides  and  beyond  its  financial 
aspects,  is  intended  so  to  define  the  respective  positions  and  attri- 
butes of  C'iiurch  and  Stnte,  and  tbeir  nnitua!  relations,  as  to  remove 
occasions  of  ctiuHict  between  them.  Its  aim  is  to  give  practical 
application  to  Cavour's   famous   dictum  of  "Free   Church  in  Free 

VOT.  I.  2  U 


646  Tke  Contemporary  Review. 

State,"  bj  effecting  that  seffrcgalion  of  the  two  botlies  recently  alluded 
to  in  the  lioyal  Speech; — segrcgotioD  appears  iuteuded  aa  a  milder 
term  thtm  separation,  and  to  lie  used  to  mark  the  carelul  restiiction 
of  tlm  action  of  Church  iiud  StatiJ  witliin  the  limits  ui  their  respective 
spheres,  rather  than  their  absolute  aud  entire  separation.  That  Ihia 
idea  finds  favour  with  the  gi"efit  majority  of  educated  Italian  laymen. 
no  one  can  doubt  who  watches  tlis  utterances  of  public  opinion — 
specially  in  the  great  cities.  It  is  felt  to  be  ^urgently  needful  tliat  tlie 
State  should  resume  its  hill  independence  of  action  where  that  has 
been  interfered  witli  by  ecclesiastical  aiTangementa,  wliilst  the 
Church  should  he  left  equally  free  to  do  its  own  work  in  its  own 
sphere. 

Civil  marriage  and  national  educ^itiou  pi-esent  the  two  most  notahte 
inatancea  in  which  this  idea  has  begun  to  ho  put  into  execution  at 
present  in  Italy.  The  State  now  requires  all  marriages  to  he  cele- 
brated by  the  civil  authorities,  ivliilst  leaving  all  free  to  snlemniiw 
their  maTriajres  witli  whatever  additional  religious  ritea  they  may 
desire.  Moreover,  on  passsing  the  Civil  Marriage  Act,  Parliament 
distinctly  declined  to  insert  a  clause  excluding  priests  ami  othera, 
botind  by  religinus  vows,  from  civil  marriage  as  citizens,  ami  already 
several  priests  have  availed  themselves  of  this  right.  The  question, 
however,  is  not  yet  iinally  settled,  aa  it  remains  with  the  law  courts 
to  decide  the  interpretation  of  this  act,  taken  ui  connection  with  the 
first  article  of  the  Constitution,  declaring  the  Ktunan  Catholic  religion 
to  be  the  dominant  religion  of  the  State,  A  casti  in  which  the  civil 
functionary  in  Genoa  declined  to  marry  a  priest,  on  the  ground  of 
hia  marriage  being  incompatibk  with  thia  article  of  the  constitution, 
has  just  been  referred  to  the  superior  tribunal  in  Piedmont;  mean- 
while, a  similar  case  has  been  decided  by  the  Naples  tribumd  in  the 
priest's  favour,  after  serious  discussion,  and  in  accordance  with  the 
formal  opinion  of  the  Crown  Procurator,  that  as  the  civil  code,  in 
vigour  since  January  lat,  1866,  mentions  no  explicit  or  implied 
restriction  concerning  persons  bound  by  ecclesiastical  vows,  the  priest 
had  certainly  the  right  to  miwrj',  and  he  has  been  married  acconl- 
inyly.  The  L'tnuncipatore  CaUoHco,  organ  of  the  Libural  Pritsts 
Association,  Xuplea,  reiicntly  rejiorfced  twenty-five  marriages  of  ec- 
clesiastics, The  press  igeneraUy,  icith  the  exception  of  the  ultra- 
montane clerical  portion,  has  spoken  decidedly  hi  favour  of  this  civil 
btrtirly  being  secured  to  the  clergy.  It  appeju-a,  tlierefore.  higldy  pro- 
bable that  such  of  the  clergy  os  desire  to  assume  their  ci\"il  rights  as 
married  citizens,  rather  than  remain  under  Home's  enforced  yoke  of 
celibacy,  will  find  themselves  free  to  do  so  in  Italy  far  mui-e  readUy  than 
in  France,  There  cjui  be  little  doubt,  however,  that  Rome's  dislike  and 
dread  ,of  this  very  great  innoviation  arises  far  more  from  the  great  loss 


Politico- Ecelcsiasikal  Questions  of  the  Day  in  Italy.    647 

of  clerical  influence  entailed  by  the  withdrawal  of  tlie  logal  celebration 
(if  marriage  from  the  C'hurch,  forming,  as  it  did,  an  imiiortant  element 
of  jiriestly  inUutincc!  in  families,  than  from  the  facility  lliua  aflbrded  tu 
a  certain  number  af  the  clergy  to  exchange  a  life  of  coQcubiQa{,'e,  as 
iimnoml  eccleaiastics,  for  that  of  honest  matrimony  aa  moral  citizens. 
It  would  lie  wrong,  however,  to  suppose  tliat  the  efl'ent  tpf  this  new 
freedom  wiU  be  confined  to  suc-h  eccleaiiiatics.  There  ajiptsirs  every 
probability  that  really  good  and  earnest  priests,  who  have  become  con- 
vinced that  IJpme's  cu/orcfd  i>iip<mtion  of  celibacy  is  wholly  witliout 
Warrant,  either  from  Holy  Scriptnre  or  primitive  Catliolic  teaching  and 
practice,  will  thankfully  avail  themselves  of  tliis  lawful  mode  of 
throwitiy  olf  a  yoke  they  have  felt  intolerable,  and  a  vow  tliey  feel 
never  ought  to  have  been  Impoifed,  nithough  they  have  preeer\'ed  out- 
■ward  purity  of  Ufe,  despite  severe  struggles  in  heart  and  conscience. 
Such  ijien  will  doubtless  aid  the  spread  of  lieformfitinn  ideas  which 
are  daily,  though  often  secretly,  extending  among  their  order ;  of  course 
the  Church  retains  fuU  liberty  to  deal  with  auch  ecclesiastics  as  she 
thinks  fit.  Oji  the  vitally  important  question  of  national  education, 
the  State  is  daily  manifesting  more  and  more  determination  to  entrust 
the  general  instruction  of  the  people  to  lay  hands,  leaving  to  the 
cleTfry  the  special  training  of  candidates  for  Holy  Orders.  Several 
episcopal  seminaries  have  recently  been  partially  transformed  into 
ordinary  pMblic  schools,  under  lay  teachers  and  Government  inspec- 
tion, the  highest  department  alone,  that  of  theologj-,  being  left  in  the 
bishops'  hands.  This  Avas  done  by  the  recent  Minister  of  Public 
Instruction,  Earon  Natoli,  who  recently  institnteda  searching  inqnir)', 
by  Eoyal  Comndssionei-s,  into  the  present  oontlition  of  the  episcopal 
seminaries  throughout  the  kingdom.  His  Eeport  furnishes  ample 
and  striking  proofs  of  the  wTetchedly  low  standard  of  education 
prevailing  throtighout  these  diocesan  c-ollcgea,  aa  well  as  of  their 
anti-national  tendencies,  in  t(»o  nvany  instances.  Thia  Heport  de- 
serves to  be  pondered  by  all  English  Churchmen  interested  in  the 
grave  question  of  clerical  training,  and  desirous  of  learning  the 
practical  results  of  the  system  pursued  by  Eome  since  the  Council  of 
Trent,  when,  in  order  to  shield  her  youthful  Levites  from  the  shock  of 
that  vast  impulse  given  by  the  Itetbmiation  to  ireedom  of  thought  and 
discipline,  she  withdrew  theological  teaching  from  the  hands  of  the 
ancient  imiversitiea,  and  isolated  it  in  her  episcopal  seminaries.  So 
she  withdrew,  as  far  as  possible,  all  youths  who  aspiraJ  to  serve  lit  Iier 
altara  from  familiar  intercourse  with  tlieir  fellows  of  every  other  class, 
and  thus  from  that  noble  emulation  in  the  fields  of  literature  and 
'science,  which  we  have  continued  to  value  so  higldy  as  the  most  etl'ect- 
ive  training  in  our  own  "  seminaries  of  sonnd  learning  and  religious 
education/' in  order  that  we  may  never  want  "a  supply  of  persons 


duly  qualified  to  serve  God  bath  iii  Church  and  State."  Tlie  coiu- 
pHriaDii  between  the  results  of  the  syateius  tlius  i-eepectively  pursued 
by  liutiie  and  mil-  own  XatiuiitU  CUurt-h,  suiou  thuir  divt-ryunyB  three 
huudred  years  aj^o,  is^  M"e  nre  profoundly  curiviiiced,  uuiuu^t  tlie  iiiosl 
instnictwe  and  cond'urtiug  that  an  Eugltsli  Churchiuau  at  tliis  ilay  can 
draw. 

Italy  furniahea  a  coucluaive  proof  that  Bome'a  system  utterly  fails 
to  produce  a  body  of  clergj'  capable  of  exeraisinj;  the  moral  and  uitut- 
leetual  hiflueiice  so  essential  for  the  attainment  of  the  hij^hest  end  uf 
their  niiuiatiy  amongst  educated  men.  it  throws  liyht  also  upou  the 
remarkable  attempt  made,  not  long  ago^  by  thu  greatest  amoiiy;  the 
Aiii^licau  eoiu'eits  to  Home,  to  reknit  the  links  between  his  newly 
adopted  euuiiuuuiou  and  our  own  ancient  univeraity  education ; 
wliikt  Home's  emphatic  refusal  to  sanction  Dr.  Newman's  attempt 
tn  catty  out  Roman  Catholic  education  in  couuectiou  with  the  highest 
aud  most  vigorous  intellectual  ti-aiiiiug  aniongst  us  in  Oxford,  and  her 
suppression  of  t!ie  ablest  attempt  to  harmonize  her  own  faith  with 
conteiupoi-ary  criticism  and  science  in  the  from--  nvd  Fornijn  JimVc, 
is  a  strikin-ij  proof  of  cousciousnes*  of  her  inability  to  liold  her  uwn  ia 
tbw  field. 

Baron  Natoli's  Heport  nftbrds  a  forcible  warning  against  our  ever 
entertaining  the  i<lea  tliat  diocesan  colleges  can  by  relied  on  as  effective 
substitutes  for  the  general  traiuing  of  our  clergy,  in  comijany  with 
their  fellow^  in  every  rank,  in  our  public  schools  and  universities.  To 
stijtplfntent  not  to  suj.>}>htnt  should  clearly  be  tlieu"  office.  But  lliis 
subject  would  carry  us  t|^uite  beyond  our  present  limits.  We  have 
digressed  on  the  two  points  of  civil  marriage  and  national  education, 
because,  in  i-eallty,  they  are  more  cloaely  connected  with  the  other 
ecclesia-stical  questions  about  to  be  discussed  in  the  Italian  PArllament 
than  might,  at  first  sight,  appear.  In  the  minds  of  Italians,  these 
fiuestions  are  all  connected  by  one  commou  idea,  as  tending  to  work 
«ut  the  conception  of  "libera  Cbiesu  in  libero  Stato." 

We  will  now  briefly  notice  the  main  features  of  the  project  under 
discussion.  (1.)  For  the  monastic  orders,  this  project  on\y  prcifcssea 
to  deal  with  that  portion  wluch,  ou  suppressiou,  will  have  claims  to 
pensiona.  Its  statistics,  therefore,  do  not  include — (I)  the  monastic 
orders  possessing  property  already  suppresse^l  in  the  old  pronncea  of 
Piedmoutj  in  the  Marches,  Jn  Umbria,  and  m  the  Neapolitan  pro- 
■viiices,  whose  pensions  Iiave  been  dready  arranged — these  nminge- 
laeuta  it  proposes  to  adhere  to,  (2)  The  similar  bodies  in  Lombard}', 
whose  property  was  placed  under  peculiar  guarantee  by  the  treaty  of 
Zurich,  and  who,  therefore,  on  their  own  Llisposal  of  tbeir  property 
Vithin  a  given  time,  will  not  have  a  claim  to  pensions.  (3)  A  con- 
siderable number  of  educational  institutions,  not  having  any  corporate 


P^liiuo-Ecclcsiasiical  Questions  of  the  Day  in  Italy.    649 


I 


existence  in  tlie  eye  of  the  State,  or  not  bein^  purely  uiouastic,  TjiU 
lay,  Olid  in  depeudeiice  on  the  lay  authorities.  (4)  Individuiils 
mliaitted  into  convents  since  January,  1864,  public  notice  havin^f  pre- 
viously been  given  that  no  such  persons  woidd  liave  a  claim  lor 
]>eii8ion3.  The  tletluctions  leave,  according  to  the  ininisterial  calcida- 
tioQs,  38,39(3  memljers  uf  monastic  onlers  to  be  recognised  a-s  havinji; 
'A  right  to  pensions;  whereas^  accordijig  to  a  previnos  census,  the 
whole  body  of  "rej^^ulare"  amounts  to  73j379  peraona.  The  mode  iii 
which  these  returns  were  obtained  was  as  follows  ; — Towards  tlie  end 
of  1864  a  printed  foim  was  sent  to  each  convent,  in  which  was  to  be 
entered  the  name  and  surname  of  each  member,  his  age.  the  date  xA 
hts  profession,  and  similar  indications ;  these  fonns  were  returned, 
with  the  signature  of  the  bead  of  each  religious  house,  who  attested 
the  truth  of  tlie  notices  therein  contained.  The  ci\*il  iiutlioritiea  were 
charged  to  get  adtlitional  informatiun  where  omissions  occurred;  but 
it  appears  that  the  members  of  the  monastic  houaes  were  themselves 
anxious  to  insure  the  due  return  of  their  name.9,  fearing  the  loss  of 
their  pensions  if  tliey  were  omitted ;  and  numerous  instances  of 
oniisaions,  arising  from  absence  or  other  accidental  causea,  were 
speedily  corrected,  by  requests  from  the  missing  members  to  the 
civil  autliorities  ;  so  that  the  minister  claims  that  thei-e  is  everj- 
probability  that  the  number  obtained  is  neatly  ftccumte.  It  must  h& 
fui-ther  explained  that  nearly  two-thinls  of  the  mendicant  orders 
itppeai  in  these  returns  as  "  already  smitten  with  sni>pre5sion,"  »',«;., 
decrees  of  suppression  of  their  convents  have  been  already  passed  ;^ 
but  they  were  allowed,  by  those  decrees,  to  remain  in  their  convents 
if  they  wished,  but  no  new  tnembera  could  be  admitted  Should  the- 
present  project  become  law.  the  monks  will  have  to  leave — the  nuns 
may  remain  if  they  wish,  as  it  is  ftdt  that  they  would  oftentimes  find 
it  more  ditticult  to  return  to  private  life  than  the  monks  would-  The 
pro\"ision  of  pciiaiona  to  the  mendicant  orders  has  been  one  of  the 
main  difficulties  of  the  ciuestionf  as  there  is  no  property  to  meet 
tliem,  and  consei[ueutly  they  will  fall  a  dead  weight  on  the  funds. 
Thus  it  wag  firet  provided  tliat  the  mendicant  orders  should  not  be 
interfered  with,  but  allowed  to  die  out  gradually ;  but  it  has  been  felt 
better  to  complete  their  suppression  with  the  rest,  and  assign  tlietn 
small  pensions. 

(2,)  For  the  orders  possessing  property^  it  is  proposed  that  the 
pensions  shall  range  from  tiDL^  frnucs  for  priests  and  professed  nuns  of 
sijcty  years  of  age  and  upwards,  to  360  for  those  under  forty.  The 
lay  brethren  and  sisters,  of  all  ages,  to  have  uniform  pensions  of  240 
francs.  The  i>eWRions  for  the  mendicant  orders  are  to  be,  for  all 
priests,  250  francs;  for  lay  brethren  over  sixty  yeai-a,  144  francs;  for 
those  niider  thttt  age,  96  Irancs.     lu  judging  of  these  ordera  it  must  Iw 


650 


The  Contemporary  Review, 


r 


TeinGmbeTed  thfit  they  are  taken,  alnioat  wibhout  eiceptirvn,  from 
the  peasant  class,  anil  Imve  l>een  ln.rj,'e!y  accustomed  to  agricultural 
labour.  The  priestji  will  be  open  to  appniiitnients  as  secular  clei^', 
Ijut  their  pensions,  in  tliat  casG,  will  lie  deiUicted  in  proportion  to  any 
clerical  income  tlius  ubtained. 

Of  male  monastic  urders  possessing  property  now  to  be  suppressed, 
we  find, — 

Mauastenefl.  U  embers.  Lay  Srethrcn. 

02^1         compriaitig        #,6t(7,       DfvhiiinaTe        l,8L3 

Generally  speaking,  the  lay  hi-ethren  appuar  to  avera^re  nearly  a  thinl 
of  the  whole  niunbcr. 

Tliase  luonaat^ries   are  di^■ided  amongst  thirty-two  orders.      The 
Carmelites  are  the   most   nnmerous,   htiviug   100   houses,   and  892" 
memljei's. 

-    As  a  departure  Irom  their  original  institution,  we  note  tlie  minor-l 
conventuals  of  St.  Fi'ancis  of  Assiai,  returned  at  0(>G  members,  in  84] 
convents,  with  an  acknowledged   rental   of  over  half  a  mjllion 
francs. 

The  Tertiai-ies  of  S.  Francesco  also  figure  in  17  convents  with  %^\ 
members,  and  a  rental  of  150,000  francs. 

The  learned  (jrder  uf  Benedictines  are  represented  by  lt>  convents, 
with  21)3  inetnbers;  they  are  far  the  wealthiest  body,  their  rental 
beiny  returned  at  a  trifle  over  1,270,000  francs.  The  only  Benedic- 
tines in  Italy  who  now  keep  u])  their  ancient  fame  lor  learning  art 
those  of  ilonte  Cassiuo  and  the  convent  of  Sti.  TrinitA-Cava.  Tho' 
nionk.?  uf  Vallombrosa,  nearly  akin  to  them,  number  only  &7  meml-era 
in  4  houses,  all  confined  to  Tuscany, 

The  Uoineaicans  muster  526  members  in   72  convents,   and  the; 
Augustiniaus  only  20  less  in  59  convents.     It  is  a  curioi,;s  fact  thatJ 
the  largest  Bomeiticau  convent  in  Naples,  famous  as  the  abode  and 
school  of  St.  Thomas  Aqninas,  is  now  the  head-tiuai-ters  of  the  Liberal 
Prieats'  Association,  of  which  the  President  Cavaliere,  Don  Luigi  Prota 
(hiiuaelf  a  monk  of  the  order),  occupies  a  cell  formerly  tenanttid  by  a 
Dumenican  bishop  noted  for  his  \*igoroU3  woi-kinj,'  of  the  Inquisition. 
The    "EnuxiKxpatofrA  CattxMco,  the  organ   of  this  association,  is  also 
printed  in  the  convent,  under  the  eye  of  Signer  Prota  as  editor.     Thia^ 
convent  is  one  of  those  "  already  smitten  with  suppression,"  but  in  ■ 
which  those  monkB  who  choose  ai-e,  as  yet,  allowed  to  hve  on  their 
pensions,  in  common. 

The  Eremites  are  reduced  to  2  priests  and  10  lay  brethren  in  3- 
convents,  still  enjoying  a  rental  of  20,000  francs. 

Of  teaching  orders,  the  brethren  of  Cluistian  schools  oiJy  figure  in 
these  retui'na  tis  125,  in  9  houses,  with  a  modest  rental  of  12,000 
francs. 


Politko-Ecclesiastical  Queslions  of  (he  Day  in  Italy.    651 


I 


I 


The  Scolopiana.  are  464,  in  42  houses.  Th-eir  schools  in  Florence 
lire  I'ar  the  largest  iu  the  city,  numhermg  some  1,(300  scholars  of  the 
upper  and  niitldle  classes;  they  are  conducted  mth  great  vi|;,'Our  ami 
success ;  hut  it  is  to  be  deeplj'  regretted  that  the  lathers  seriously  lost 
credit,  not  long  ago,  by  dishonest  manoeuvres  in  fuiniehiug  false  eeiti- 
ficates  to  some  of  their  scholars,  which  iiecessitateil  public  inquiry, 
and  led  to  the  tJoverniueut  heiiig  ohliged  to  withdraw  their  power  of 
giving  certificates. 

One  order  only — the  Hospitalers  of  St,  John  of  God,  or  "  Fate  bene 
fratelli "— are  ret\irued  as  specially  devoted  to  the  care  of  the  sick; 
they  number  129  members,  in  27  houses. 

The  rest  of  the  orders  are  of  Smaller  accoimtj  botli  in  ntmibers  of 
members  and  honses. 

Of  these  32  ordei-s,  10,  in  43  bouses,  are  returned  as  "dedicated  to 
public  instruction,"  of  whom  the  brethren  of  Christian  scliools  furnish 
5  hoiises  and  the  8colopiims  26.  Of  the  r^maindei',  the  liamabites, 
Filippim,  Somaschi,  and  rnissionary  orders  {%.  t.,  those  who  preach 
"missions"  in  tlie  country),  furnish  2  each  and  1  house  is  contributed 
by  each  of  the  Augustinians,  Cistercian3,  and  Teatineg. 

Tlie  total  annual  rental  acknowledged  by  these  32  orders  amounts 
to  over  ^,714,000  francs,  or,  on  an  average,  1,180  francs  for  each 
member,  lay  brethren  included;  but  as  one-fifth  is  allowed  for  patri- 
monial biurdens  and  exftenses  of  administration,  this  is  reduced  to 
an  average  of  under  950  francs,  still  leaving,  aa  is  hoped,  a  consider- 
able margin  after  the  proposed,  pensions  shall  be  paid, 

or  this  whole  amount,  -Rot  out  Unih  is  retiuned  as  belonging  to  the 
houses  dedicated  to  public  instruction  and  the  care  of  the  sick.  Their 
joint  recfci]it9  are  given  at  a  trifle  over  603,000  franca. 

It  will  be  noted  that  such  educational  institutions  aa  the  seminaiies 
attached  to  the  famous  Benedictine  monasteries  of  Monte  Cassino 
and  Monte  Triniti  della  Cava,  near  Naples,  and  Vallombrosa,  do  not 
appear  amongst  houses  "dedicated  to  public  instruction." 

It  has  been  already  observed  that  a  large  additional  numljer  of 
schools  are  still  in  the  hands  of  religious  bodies,  either  already  sup- 
pressed, but  as  yet  allowed  to  live  in  their  monasteries,  or  bodies  not 
possessing  coiporate  existence  in  the  eye  of  the  State.  Thus  the 
Minister  of  Public  Instruction  recently  returned  19  orders,  with  185 
houses,  uicludiug  those  given  in  this  Report.  Many  of  these  have 
]>een  "  already  smitten  with  suppression."  The  one  minister  wished 
to  show  the  whole  number  of  schools  nl'  all  kinds  imder  manage- 
ment of  monastic  bodies  ;  the  other  confined  liia  attention  to  those  who 
would  have  to  be  pensioned.     Hence  the  discrepancy  in  their  returns. 

The  female  orders  possessing  property  far  outnumber  their 
brethren^  though  iu  fewer  convents. 


1 


653  The  Contemporary  Rei'iazu. 

The  Keport  gives — 

Convents.  Mcml>ers.  Lay  SirtifW, 

537,        cum^iruoug         12,481^      of  whom  are        4,217. 

Tbii-s  tlie  prcipoiticju  of  lay  sisters  is  a  trifle  over  one-tliird. 

They  are  diviJetl  amouj^st  31  orders. 

Of  these  tlie  Benedictines  are  far  the  moat  numerous,  having  153 
convents,  and  3,463  members,  witli  an  acknowledged  rental  of  nearly 
tlil-ee  Juillions  of  fmucs. 

The  Sisters  of  Sta.  Chiara  nuraljer  1,234  members  in  49  houses. 

"Collegea  of  Mary"  stand  next  highest  on  the  list — ^73   houses, 
with  1,U37  membeis.     These,  and  other  mctdern  fetiiale  sisterhrioda, 
have  beon  introduced  from  France,  and  are  said  to  have  little  relation  1 
with  the  older  mouaatie  bodies. 

840  Saleaians  are  comprised  in  2'2  convents,  and  835  Douieuicans 
in  27;  an  equal  numl)er  of  Augustinian  convents  include  685  mem- 
bers. 

The  Carmelite  Sistei-s  do  not  figure  so  prominently  as  their  Wfthreu, 
numbering  only  31  convents  and  G71  menbei-s. 

Jranciscan  and  "Franciscan  Observant"  Sistera,  like  some  uf  their 
brethren,  escape  the  original  vows  of  poverty,  and  gather  tJ8j  members 
in  20  ciinventSj  with  a  rental  of  nearly  liaU  a  million  of  fmnca 

One  small  house  of  "  Canonesses  of  the  Lateran,"  ^lith  11  nuns 
and  8  lay  sisters,  douriahes  in  Sicily  on  14,51)1)  francs. 

13  Sistera  of  Mercy  (2  of  them  lay)  appear  to  constitute  the  sole 
Italian  representatives  of  their  order  in  this  return,  in  a  suioll  houise 
in  the  pmvtnce  of  Genoa,  and  with  a  very  modest  rental  of  2,856 
franca. 

The  list  is  closed  by  2o  educational  "  consen'atories  and  iuatitutes,"^ 
comprising  7tlo  membera,  of  wlium  nearly  one-third  lu-e  hiy. 

Of  the  female  ordera,  18  are  returned  as  "dedicated  to  public 
instruction/'  in  129  bouses;  of  these  the  "Colleges  of  Mary"  far 
outnumber  the  rest,  08  being  tlins  employed,  whilst  no  other  order 
furaislics  more  than  9.  Is  it  not  a  token  of  the  yeneml  tendency  of 
Rome's  teacjliiiig  iit  tliia  day,  that  58  "Colleges  of  Mary"  shouI<l  be 
thus  engaged^  whilst  only  one  house  of  "Daughters  of  Jubils"  Is  fouiid 
in  tliis  held ;  also  1  of  "  Sisters  of  the  Good  Siiepherd"  to  6  of 
"Sistere  of  St.  Joseph"  ?  Q  each  are  also  fui-nished  by  lieueUiuliues 
and  Urauliaes;  Angus tiiiiaus,  Salesians,  and  Oblates  contribute  9^™ 
each ;  Uomenicans  8  ;  the  rest,  in  ones  and  twos,,  make  up  the  total^H 
of  12a  houses. 

Here,  ayaiu,  we  lia\'e  to  remark  that  these  statistics  give  but  a  very 
incomplete  sketch  of  the  actual  number  of  schools  in  the  hands  of 
female  monastic  bodies;  the  Slinister  of  Public  Instruction  having 


Politico- EccUsiastual  Questions  of  the  Day  in  Italy.    653 

found  no  less  than  927  schools,  under  the  management  of  33  orders 
and  congregations.  The  explanation  given  ahove  for  the  nude  orders 
applies  equally  to  the  femala 

The  rentals  acknowledged  hy  these  female  orders  amount  to 
7,008,624  francs,  of  whicli  only  904,313  (mther  more  than  one- 
eighth)  is  returned  by  the  houses  dedicated  to  public  instructioiL 
Patrimonial  burdens  and  expenses  of  administration  are  returned 
at  rather  more  than  one-fifth  of  the  whole  amount ;  thus  leaving 
an  average  of  rather  more  than  450  francs  for  each  member — lay 
sisters  included. 

It  is  to  be  noted  that,  in  these  returns,  the  Government  distin- 
guishes the  rentals  returned  by  male  and  female  houses  devoted  to 
public  instruction  and  care  of  the  sick  from  the  sum  total  of  the 
acknowledged  rentals,  as  it  is  intended  that  these  sums  shall  continue 
to  be  devoted  to  these  purposes.  Thus  a  net  rental  will  accrue  from 
the  male  orders  of  rather  more  than  four  and  three  quarter  millions 
of  francs,  and  nearly  the  same  from  the  fenude  ;  their  joiut  net  rental 
thus  will  give  upwards  of  nine  milUons  and  a  half  of  francs.  To  this 
must  be  added,  to  complete  our  sketch,  nearly  eight  millions  of  net 
rental  arising  from  the  monastic  bodies  already  suppressed,  and  at 
present  administered  by  the  ecclesiastical  chests  in  Turin  and  Naples. 
Thus  the  total  annual  rental  looked  for  from  this  source  will  be 
nearly  seventeen  millions  and  a  half  of  francs.  The  total  annual 
amount  of  pensions  to  monks  and  nuus  now  paid,  and  to  be  paid  on 
further  suppression,  is  over  seventeen  millions ;  so  that  only  a  sum 
of  350,000  francs  will  be  at  first  available  as  surplus ;  but  this  will 
naturally  increase  yearly  as  the  pensioners  diminish. 

The  Mendicant  orders  are  "  already  smitten  with  suppression"  to 
a  very  large  extent,  in  the  qualified  sense  explained  abova  Thus  we 
find  in  this  category  of  male  orders, — 

Monuteriu.  Members.  Lajr  BretHren. 

800,        comprising  12,336,       of  whom  are       5,210 

There  remain  to  be  suppressed, — 

Konftst^ries.  Uembera.  \a^  Brethren. 

409,        containing  6,520,        of  whom  ore        2,798 

Of  these,  188  houses  are  Capuchins;  the  rest  are  Franciscans,  Minor 
Observants,  or  Minor  Reformed  orders. 

If  the  present  bill  passes,  all  these  will  have  to  leave  their  con- 
vents. 

Of  the  female  Mendicant  orders  have  been  "  smitten  with^suppres- 
sion,"  but  allowed  to  live  on  together, — 

ConTeota.  Memben.  Lay  Siateis. 

24,  comprising  520,        of  vhom  are        125 


654 


Ths  Contemporary  Rei'kw. 


These   were   almost   all   Capuchins,  with   one   small   convent   of  5 
.Stimatine  Sisters. 

There  remain  to  be  BUppresaed, — 


Convents. 
18, 


with 


852, 


Tjay  BbleM, 


These  also  are  Capuchins :  it  would  appear  as  though  some  of  the  I 
suppressetl  had  tiOien  shelter  in  these  remaining  conventa. 

In  order  to  guard  against  the  re\'iTaI  of  the  suppTessed  ecclesiastieal 
corpomtionB.  both  monastic  and  others,  a  clause  in  the  project  de-;i 
Glares  that  gifts  and  bftprcAta  to  (hcin  will  hn  null  aiul  void;  and  tlie 
Report  points  to  France  as  at  present  I'unushiny  iv  striking  warning  j 
that  such  a  precaution  is  absolutely  uecessaiy,     Our  readers  willj 
remember  that  Lord  Rus.^ell  proposed,  but  utteTwards  abandonedj  a 
similar  provision   when    the    Pope   appointed    tlie    present    Roman 
Catholic   E]>isGopat.e  in   Englaud.     Of  ecclesiastical  mortmain,  tJia] 
Report  declares  that — 

"  It  has  \miii  moat  destructive  to  tha  welfare  ol"  the  people  :  whereVBr  thai 
Chvm-h  jiosseasied  itsell'  of  viiat  rt-al  property,  tliere  the  iMist  eource  of  publio'i 
wfiidtli  lii^caiiiu  (jmdii:dlv  dried  up.  It  siiHiti^s  to  gliuice  ciuly  at  Sicily,  ona] 
day  the  j^rniuirv  Lif  Itidy  ;  there  tlio  landpii  property  of  the  Church  la  greatestl 
((7  tfctinif/if  m'-liiih'n  f'ro-fJiinId  nf  ih;  }nhfmi)y  and  therBj  tot^  is  the  dcaertioaj 
and  ftterilily  uf  tljw  lields  the  jfreatcat." 

The  project  therefore  forbids  all  ecclesiastical  bodies,  for  the  futuieji 
to  acL^uire  real  ]>roperty,  witJi  very  limited  exceptions,  and  then  only] 
On  condittoa  of  at  once  converting  it  into  rental  Irum  the  national 
funds. 

The  gi-ounds  alleged  by  the  Report  for  the  necfiaaity  of  similar] 
convei'sinn  of  tlie  whole  existing  Church  jjroperty  are  so  quaiutly 
expressed  that  we  caimift  Ibrbear  tjuoting  them ; — 

"  In  this  poor  Italy  of  ours,  ovemrn  afj;ain  and  again  by  barbarians,  tyran- 
nized (iver  during  so  many  ages  by  a  hand  of  lordliugs  inipot^^ut  to  defend  it 
from  the  stRuiger,  moat  powt'tfid  to  ijpjirpaH  nnd  tear  it  ill  piecea, — nn  every 
rapid  change  of  maatora  waa  renewed  the  8-pectacle  of  donntiona  of  a  part  of  I 
the  public  and  jirivatc  pntrimonios,  as  apoQ  of  conquest,  to  the  Church,  in 
orth'ir  that  she  should  either  absolve  the  sins  of  the  potentates,  or  fortifj' 
tbeir  dominion  with  the  support  of  her  influence  amongst  the  crL<dulous 
populations.     Thua  gradually  went  on  &n  exchangB  of  parts:  to  d%-il  socictj 
was  opfiied  an  ever  widening  field  in  the  kuiKdom  of  heaven ;  \o  the  Churchl 
wcro  nbaudotied  the  goods  of  tbia  world.      But  the  inadeqamtc  worldly  fortes] 
of  the  cler^^y,  und  the  obligations  of  a  life  tluit  pronused  no  frait  to  iiidi\'idtia 
activity,  uiuseil  that  those  vast  propertiesj  more  than,  abundant  for  the  col 
lective  needs  of  Lhe  monil  corpomtion,  reciaiiii?d|  in  great  part  nncultiratud] 
and  desert',  and  the  fruit,  to  the  grave  detiimeut  of  the  country,  did  not  coi«^ 
respond  ki  tlif  productive  forces  of  ite  liehest  aoU,  on  which  entini  popida- 
lationx,  loiui  anil  ragged,  dragged  themselves  to  the  doore  of  the  convents  to 
beg  a  miserable  bowl  of  broth." 


Politico- Ecclesiastical  Questiom  0/  the  Day  in  Italy.   655 

That  tliia  f^Taphio  sketeli  is  no  imfaitliful  description  of  man}-  parts 
ul'  Sicily  and  South  Italy  even  at  this  day,  -0181117  of  our  readers  can 
proljably  testify. 

Next  comes  the  boldest  and,  in  all  respects,  the  most  im]iortant 
proposal  of  the  project,  viz.,  a  sweepiog  iwluction  of  the  bisboprius. 
Here,  again,  we  must  let  the  Eeport  tell  its  o^ivn  story,  as  we  cannot 
Lompress  its  facts  and  argiimenta  into  shorter  or  clearer  shape,  and  it 
faiily  expresses  opinions  widely  prevalent: — 


I 


I 


"OF   THE   EPISCOPAL    REVENUES. 

"  From  tho  predominaucy  of  tb^  Cliurch  uvur  the  State,  and  from  the 
alliance  between  deBpotism  aivd  tlio  clt-Tgy  in  Italy,  ive  havQ  inhepitod  not 
only  the  many  religious  corporationa  fur  wliust;  .auppression  tbe  first  article 
of  the  present  proj-ect  of  law  provides,  hut  there  hnn  also  como  to  ua  an 
almost  ineredibli  quantity  of  other  uistitutions,  which  contributed  greatly  tn 
fsthiguifih  in  tho  country  the  gcmi  of  its  intellectual  and  economical  devulop- 
luent,  thonkd  to  a  false  education  and  a  tuoeit  e^cteiisive  system  of  niortmaiiL 
In  our  kingdom,  over  a  population  of  21,000,000  of  iulmbitauta,  we  have 
235  dioceses,  divided  into  45  archbiaboprica,  184  bishoprics,  and  G  abbeya, 
with  juriadittiou  antl  attributea  quasi-episcopal  Tlie  picture  whiflh,  in  an 
appendix,  we  prestmt  to  you,,at:ta  forth  all  these  dioceses,  with  the  population 
and  with  the  intomi-  uf  eafdi,  with  the  numhet  of  pamliD^,  and  in  many 
caaes  aUo  with  the  iniiiiber  of  tho  jtricate.  From  tliis  we  seo  that  in  Italy 
there  ia  on  the  avomgo  a  dioceae  for  every  90,000  iuba-hitaiita.  Now  in 
France,  over  38,000,000  of  inhabitants,  tbere  aru  16  m(;tro])olitan  an.;h- 
biahopricB  and  72  LiyJjopriaa,  imiludiug  that  of  Alycria ;  thrre  is,  therefon',  on 
the  average  a  diocese  for  every  450,000  inhabitants.  In  Sjiain,  in  Catholic 
Spain,  with  a  jiopulation  of  about  15,000,000  of  inhitbita,nt&,  you  hnd  SJ 
archbishops  and  45  biehojjB,  with  a  j>atriareh  for  the  Indian  jioaacsKiouB,  and 
2  bishops  fop  Ceuta  and  TenerilfQ;  you  Hud  therefore  a  dinccsu  for  every 
300,000  inhahjtiintR.  In  Portugal,  with  about  3,500,000  inhabitants,  there 
are  3  arclihishupfl  and  1 4  biahopSf  benidcfl  an  arcbbisjhop  anrl  3  bishopa  for  the 
foi-eign  posJiessiona ;  that  is  to  siiy,  a  liioeeae  for  every  2(16^000  Irdiabilant^ 
nearly.  In  linvaria,  tiver  a  population  of  3,176,000  Catholic;s,  there  are  3 
archliisbopa  and  C  bisbopa, — a  dioflOBc  for  every  307,000  inhubitaats.  lu  Bel- 
gium, over  Q  iKipidiitiun  of  about  3,-500,000  inhabitantfl,  there  is  only  1  metro- 
politan and  5  bisliop.?,  viz.,  a  ilioeeae  for  every  590,000  inbabitanta.  In  tho 
Auatriau  Empire,  over  a  popnlation  of  alH>ut  36,000,000  of  iuliabitinits,  thera 
exist  73  dioi-eees,  lietw&en  iirchbLsh<i]J3  and  btshnps  of  tliu  flmek  and  Latin 
rites ;  that  is,  there  esista  a  dio<rese  for  every  490,000  inh.ititntits.  "Wo  could 
easily  multiply  examples,  adducing  those  of  other  comitrios  in  which  the 
Catliolic  population  is  mixed  with  tbf>8B  of  distseuting  coiifessioiiis,  to  show 
how  exorbitant  in  Italy  is  the  uunibur  of  Bpiscopal  see«  in  coinpariaqn  with 
all  the  other  countries  yf  the  world  ;  but  it  is  enough  for  U9  to  ^y  that  in 
tilt;  whote  CnthoUc  globe  therv  cxBt  about  680*  archbishops  and  bishops,  of 
which  utimbcT  i:iur  kuigdom  counts  235,  more  than  a  third  I     But  how  arc 

•  The  Unitt  Catlalira,  Ihe  leading  cle'rical  journal,  demurs  to  this  numbpr  as  taking  no 
iiccOUnt  of  sotno  HOD  hlihopa  t'»i  partilm*  willi  other  prelates-  If,  however,  the  leea  in  tho 
remaining  Papal  tcmtnrj,  toii.  iii  Vboice,  bm  takett  into  acroitnt,  it  ti-ill  etiU  flpi>ear  that 
yct;  nearly  a  third  of  iha  whole  Kumon  CatLdje  £j)ifiMiput<i  Ia  in  Italy,  and  far  nucv 
than  a  third  of  Uio  eetded  hlL'iBrchy. 


656  The  Contemporary  Reznew. 

tht^st-  upiecopfil  st!«H  of  the  kingLlQin  distributed  ?     Their  circumscription, 
does,  it  ut  Ifiist  iirisc  from  a  wiee  and  well-ct"ti8i<lert-'d  coiifepticn  of  fitting  ] 
thetn  to  tlio  wants  of  tlie  population,  to  the  nature  of  tLe  jilacf^,  t">  the  diHi- 
culties  of  coramunicdtionl     Thu  above- nauu'd  picture  ckfli'ly  proves  to  you 
how  iirbitrarj",  iil-arruuged,  sud  eveti  absurd  is  tliG  actual  diuei^aau  circuiii- 
striptkiii  of  Italy  iu  rt'spiiut  to  tli^t  ]K>piil;itioR,  to  ih^  lotiilities,  to  thf  numlKT 
of  [larishes  ami  piipsts,  and  to  thu  rovwiufa.     In  fact,  you  liiid  one  diocusL% 
that  of  Mikn,  which  tmitiiina  1,1 17,000  faithfid  ;  you  liiid  two,  those  of  j 
KupL'fl  and  i'urin,  which  number  more  than  500,000  uibjiliitiinte  j  13  fnjia] 
200,000  tu  400,000;  48  from   100,000  to  200,(llll(;  luid  tluu  dusccudiiigj 
graduiillv,   yuu   see   21    from    80,000    to    100,000   inhahitnutfl;    48    froiuj 
50,000   U)    80,000;    44    from    30,000    to    50,000;    28   from    20,000    to] 
30,000;    23    from    10,000  to  30,000;    tiiid  7  with  less  thiin    10,000  in-j 
habitants,  as   thoa^    of  iSarsina,    of  (JgliflBtra,   of  TroiR,    of  Urbtinio,  fuidl 
Siiif  AiiReLo  in    Vado,  of  Montevergine  (abheyj    and  of  t^otrone,  mor 
parisbc'ii  than  peal  diocea^.     And   what  shati   wo   sfty   of  the   Bishoprittl 
of  Atea,  a  little  vilkge  in  Snriliiita,  wltli  scarcely  I,O00  soide,  and  vitKl 
a  cath^dml  chapter  of  20  caJioos  and   18  heiieliced  clergy!     AuJ  great 
anomalies  wilt    appear    if  you   compare    a    little   the   nutQWi"  of  the  dio-I 
CHB«8    with    respect  to    the   various    provinces  of  the   kingdom.     Ic    fact^j 
you   lind    Lombartly  with    8   diotoses  and  3,000,000    of  inlinbitvOJitK;  thft] 
KoiiiagriH.  i\-ith  12  dlocege*,  jwopled  by  a  little  niort'i  tliaii  1,000,000   of  thgl 
f:uthful;  the  Ihichiws  with  9  diocwes,  and  more  than   1,000,000  inhabit-] 
ants ;  the  Old  Provinces,  incliuling  the  boundaries  of  Vjgi.'imuo  and  of  Boffio, 
with  25  dioctjsea  and  little  moi*  than  3,500,000  inhabitants;  THScimy,  witlt] 
nearly    1,800,000,   and    21    diocysus;    Umbria,    which    dots    not    contain  j 
500,000  inhabitants,  has  17  dioceses;  Siardiuia  has  11  dioceses,  and  alwut 
500^000  inhabitants;  thti  Marches,  that  hartUy  count   1,000,000  inhabit-] 
ants,  with  21    dioceacB ;    Sicily    contains    2,300,000   inhabitants,    and    18- 
dioceses  ;  and  finally,  the  Neapolitan  Provinces,  which  with  little  more  thanl 
7,000,000  of  iiilifihitants,  number  (*6  dioceses,  including  the  abbeys  with 
episcopal  jtitiadiction.     Thcrtfom  it  api^eara  that  in  the  greater  nmnbiet  of 
tlie  ptoviiiees  of  the  kiiigdoni,  the  avetiige  ratio  of  the  population  to  the 
tespcctive  dioceses  descends  much  l>i;low  that  alrcndy  mentioned  of  ft  diocese 
for  every  90,000  inhabitants:  thus   for  example,  the   mean   in    I^mbria   la 
29,000  souls  for  n  diocese  ;  in  thi?  Miurhes,  47,riOO  ;  in  the  Neapolitan  Terri* 
tory,  rtbout  65,000;  so  that  any  one  who  wished  t<i  take  as  a  naodel   the 
dioccsc'?  of  Catholic  France,  would  find  more  than  sixfold  in  many  of  our 
jirovinccs,  iinrl  in  some  others  oven  more  than  liiteea  times  ae  many.     The 
same  anomalies  appear  in   the  numl^cr  of  the  jxtrishes  included  m  each., 
diocese  :  juid  intleed,  in  the  annexed  tabic,  it  m  ehoT^ii  bow  50  dioceses  haTS_ 
more  than  1,000  parishes;  3  more  thau  500,  namely  that  of  Milan,  which 
contains  7fi9,  an<l  that  of  Como,  wliich  has  077  ;  49  dioceses  which  n-cki>n 
mort-  than  50  and  lesp  than  100  ;  72  from  20  to  TiO,  JtO  from  10  to  20,  ami 
23  less  than  10,     The  numhep  also  cf  the  priests  n^vwale  the  bad  eompositioai 
of  the  actual  dioccsoa  of  the  kingdom,     llie  before-mentioned  tabJe  indi- 
eate«  for  many  pravinces  the  number  of  tbe  priesta  wlucb  an.'  eontaiiUMi  m 
them,  and  sliowa  liow  in  several  this  number  kec])s  psice  with  thitt  of  thn 
diocose  ;  ami  it  trim  proves^  iind  it   is  lUT-fJMavff  in  cimfffin  it^  Hint  ichen^  llir 
ranks  of  fhr  r/errji/  were  most  mddij  cjii-nifci ,  there  arts  and   indHntry 
jioaneheiJ  least,  <md  (he  u/norance  of  fhti  poputatiim  tctia  ijrcaitjgt, 

"But  the  revenues  of  the  235  epiflcopal  sees  of  the  kuigdom,  are  they  at 
lenat  e([uaLly  distributed  1  The  revenues  of  these  biahoprica  amount  to  more 
than  8,000,000  francs  a  year,  after  deducting  taxes  and  espen&es.  for  repairs. 


I 


PoUtUo-Ecciesi^stical  Questions  of  the  Day  in  Italy.   657 

If  this  revcnun  was  lUvideil  ui  just  iiM'iiduro  lietween  nil  the  bisliojirics,  enoh 
wntili.1  hnvi-  iiJxitit  34.000  fi"finr.'sa  year,  n  sinii  mor*!  tlinn  suHiriunt  to  sustain 
the  iliynity  (iC  llic  ti'igcnpiite.  liiit  from  the;  pictiin-  we  halve  plitcLnl  Ijefuni 
your  cjr-ea,  you  will  diacLTii  wlmt  jiii  enonn*iHfl  ditfureiice  exists  Iwtwcuii  the 
riches  ftf  nno  hkhopric  imJ  of  ariothoT.  In  fact,  soiiiu,  as  those  of  Pisn, 
Fenani,  livvrnim,  P/ilcrmo,  (.'efaln,  liii-gfiiti,  MniJKist;  and  Cuttiiiia,  have 
(freat  wciiilth,  hftving  n  reveniit?  of  iD'ni'e  thdii  100,000  fraiwa  p(;r  annum : 
i<j  sees  aj'e  (.'iitifhwl  liy  a  revemif  nf  bctWL'un  50,000  mid  100,000  fniucti  an- 
Hiially  ;  58  fmiii  20,1)00  tu  50,000  ;  «■!  from  10,000  to  20,000  t'liiiitB ;  43 
from  5^000  t^i  10,000.  You  lihd  14  whicli  hnvek&s  tliiiu  5,000  IVaiicu  ay«nr; 
imtl  souiL',  liistiy,  wliosti  revenues  scJircvly  R'tich  3,000  fruiius,  uh  thoat;  of 
fJemci?,  Pfscia,  ^'^lst■o,  und  the  Abln-y  of  Acqna-viva.  In  Fciiiirip,  tiiiiiga  ans 
armnfe'e'l  very  dilfcrently.  This  episcopate,  which  rules  aEtil  guitfps  tho 
spiritual  intureatd  r.i  38,000,000  cjf  soula,  csU  thu  .Stuto  alioiit  n  million  nml 
a  halt  TIio  ii.rchluslio[>J>  lisive  uaiudly  1^0,000;  the  hisliopn  12,000  fninua 
a  yeitr,  by-sidt-s  *^iiniji  t'thi.'?  itllnwanccs  fur  special  ciiriniiHtiiiiwa  j  iiml  tho 
jVrtihbiahup  of  IVm  iilune  \\m  50,000  francs.  In  S[iaii:i,  thfi  Arrhhiahop  of 
ToIlhIo  hjis  45,000  tmues  ;  the  bi8ho[>B  fruni  20,000  tu  28,000  ;  luul  in  aU, 
the  SEjanish  fpiacopak-  tofit-s  j;enerally  1,247,000,  i.vith  lfi,000,000  of  iiiliali- 
itaata.  Instt'jid  of  this,  in  tlie  Itiiliaii  Kin^ocu,  witli  21,000,000  of  iiJmlj- 
itants,  the  episcojiato  costs  nvire  tlian  8,000,000  a  year  ! 

•■Hut  the  greatoat  aiionialieK  and  tin;  |,'niatGflt  incniiveniencoB  of  the  actual 
diocesan  diviaions  of  Italy  iiriei!  froia  the  manner  in  whiidi  they  are 
arraiigod,  and  nui  <nie  into  auothLT  in  the  iLndts  of  their  ftdtninistration. 
'Hie  confuHion  thnt  ari.'RW  from  this  atftte  of  tliittga  is  indcatribuhln-,  and  tho 
inconveniemia  of  llie  citiiwjiis  inauflLU-tibki.  It  hajiji^ns  not  unfroquently  that 
you  aec  in  tlm  same  coiomuni)  a  religious  practice  pi'rmitted  in  one  portion 
furhidden  in  anuthor,  uno  portion  of  the  iuhahitilllU  (Jlijoying  th<smaelvofl 
fully,  whilst  the  other,  under  a  ditfereut  cwlesia*tii;al  rftjimv,  nre  calleil  to 
severe  spiritviul  exercises.  From  tho  wjiy  in  which  colllnl^^^i8  and  the  other 
territorial  division*  ars  cut  up  betweijin  ditfcrent  dioceacs,  thti  inhahitant;^ 
arc  obligiid  at  timw  to  make  lung  journeys,  and  crosa  the  boundaries  of  their 
own  [tntvinice  to  Ix'take  thunisolviss  to  their  diocesan  aee. 

"These:  aiioma,li(;fl  of  thu  c!ioL^!SBii  bouniiaiies,  and  thcfie  enormoma  dtfTer- 
eni^es  iu  impui-tani-'e,  exteiiti  and  ri:t:liu8,  between  one  diocese  and  anotlier  of 
the  kii^^doni,  KprrUiff  from  manifold  causva.  Durinji;  the  laany  ages  that 
Italy  wiia  divided  hutwecn  different  OovcrnincntB,  every  ono  had  itd  own 
npiiciol  news  in  jillowiitf^  or  promoting  now  eccleainatical  ilinsiona.  Tliey 
■were  mnlliplieil,.  diniiniyhed,  united,  disuoittil,  juat  according  to  the  whim 
for  cri'ntinj^  new  diaceaea,  imraakin^  them,  or  remaking  lht<in,  in  ntder  to 
serve  either  tho  politit;a  or  tho  cajiricea  of  tho  Court  of  l£onie,  and  sometimes 
the  uiyuHtifiiihle  wLlla  uf  a  sovereign,  a  cardinal,  or  a  favourite,  diapoaiug  of 
the  Hook  for  the  convenience  of  the  pnatora" 

Tbua  far  the  Reimrt, 

.To  remedy  this  stiite  of  t.hin<;a,  it  is  propneed  lo  i-ecog^ise  only  f>9 
8,  with  territorial  liinita  more  ii;  harmony  with  the  limits  of  the 
civil  provinces. 

Thus  each  province  will  have  n  bishop,  with  his  residence  in  the 
chief  town ;  a  few  provinces  will  have  more  than  one,  on  account  of 
■  extent  of  teiTitniy  or  [UfRcuIty  of  communicfttiou ;  and  lastly  a  few 


658  The  Confemporaty  Retnew, 

traditiona,  as  Spoleto,  Nola,  and  Taranto.  The  annual  income  of  the 
five  principal  archbiahfips — viz.,  ofJIilan,  Turin,  Florence,  Naples,  and 
Palermo — is  fixed  at  2-l,(ILKt  francs  each.  Thirteen  ntlier  archiepiscopal 
Bees  will  receive  18,000  francs  each  ;  these  iuuliide  Genoa,  Bolojina, 
Modena,  Pisa,  Spoleto.  Cnpua,  Messina,  and  others.  The  51  episcopal 
sees  will  receive  12,000  francs  each.  Tims,  at  a  cost  of  under  tmt 
million  of  francs  annually,  instead  of  ci^ht^  an  episcopal  see  will  lie 
provided  for  everj"  300,000  souls  ;  ao  that,  as  the  ILeport.  says,  Italian 
CBthoIics  will  tijul  theniseh'es  nearly  in  the  same  contlition  as  the 
rest  of  their  bretliren  in  Europe;  any  difierence  lieiiig  in  favour  of 
Italy  having  a  more  numerous  episcopate. 

It  is  hoped  (Jtat  the  ecclesiastical  authorities  vnll  feel  the  necessity 
and  propriety  of  conforming  to  those  proposed  arrangements,  as  time 
and  reflection  shall  leml  Bnme  to  more  conciliatory  counsels.  But  if 
not,  the  St^tc,  true  to  its  puj^ose  of  not  intniding  into  matters  purely 
affecting  the  spTiititality.  will  content  itself  with  simply  ^^oring  any 
additional  bishops,  if  such  shall  hereafter  he  nominated  to  any  of  the 
existing  sees  which  the  State  has  decided  on  not  recognising  after 
the  present  holders  vacate  them.  Such  prelates  i^tH  have  00  legal 
existence  in  the  eye  of  the  Stat-e,  and  ■^tII  have  no  share  of  the  tem- 
poral emoluments  granted  to  the  recognised  sees.  But  the  Report 
expresses  strong  confidence  in  the  power  of  accomplished  fects,  and  in 
the  goml  sense  of  the  chief  pastors,  who  will  not  wLsb  to  be  separated 
firom  the  flock,  though  the  limiti  of  the  fold  may  be  changed,  to 
ohviate  difticulties  from  this  source.  (3.)  This  extensive  reduction  of 
the  episcopate  will  Ix;  aceorapauied  by  a  corresprmctiug  reduction  of 
cathedral  and  colleyiate  chapters.  At  present,  cathedral  chapters, 
in  Italy,  arc  more  niiraeTfiua  than  episcopal  sees,  there  being  no  less 
than  2*38  cathedral  chapters,  with  about  4,600  canons,  and  2.G50 
chaplains.  The  excess  of  chapters  over  sees  arises  from  the  anion  of 
aome  sees,  of  which  both  cathedral  chapters  were  retained.  It  is  pro- 
posed to  leiive  15  canons  and  10  chaplains  for  each  metropolitan 
chapter,  1:2  canons  and  fi  chaplains  for  each  episcopal  clmpfcer.  This 
will  effect  a  reduction  of  four-fifths  of  the  existing  number.  The 
Report  fully  reco^iiaea  the  importance  of  tlie  original  idea  of  the 
cliapter,  as  the  comicil  of  the  bishop,  antl  earnestly  desiras  the  resti- 
tution of  the  ancient  practice,  "  Nilii!  agat  episcopua  inconsulto  pres- 
byterio."  It  expresses  a  hope  that  these  chapters  "  wiU  receive  into 
their  bosom,  for  an  honourable  repose,  tliose  venerable  priests  who, 
after  having  spent  the  beat  years  of  their  life  in  the  fatiguing  duties 
of  the  parochial  ministry,  will  be  wise  and  experieuced  eonnsetloi-s  of 
the  bishop  in  the  government  of  the  diocese."  But  whilst  such  are 
itfl  aims  and  hopes,  the  Report  forcibly  pleads  that  the  present  excess- 
ive number  of  cathedral  and  coll'^ate  chapiters  and  dignities  has  too 


I 


I 


I 
I 


I 


I 
I 


Polilico-Eccksiasiical  Questions  of  ihe  Day  in  Tialy.    659 

often  tended  oulj  to  call  forth  a  race  of  clergy,  tempted  by  the  pros- 
oE  easy  meaus  of  subsistence  with  little  or  no  corresponding 
inxck — sinecures,  in  fact. — and  it  does  not  forget  to  point  the  moral, 
"by  lominding  113  that  "  Laum's  tminoptal  bard,  ia  fine,  couJd  be  a 
canan."  With  the  collegiate  tlmptera  the  liet^rt  ia  prq>ai€d  to  deal 
■with  unflinchinj,'  hatiJ,  drawiug  a  wide  distinction  between  them  tmd 
the  cathedrjil  uhapt^rs,  aud  declaring  that,  at  this  day,  no  one  in  good 
iaith  conld  Jail  to  Tecognise  that  theae  coUegiate  bodies  are  as  para- 
sites, clinging  round  the  normal  hierarchical  constitution  of  the 
ChiiTcli,  serving  only  to  maintain  a  lazy  clergy,  educated  neither  to 
the  virtues  of  the  citizen  nor  to  thoae  of  the  priest  It  adds  that,  for 
the  most  part,  the  members  of  these  collegiate  chapters  discharge  their 
light  duties  by  deputy. 

It  is  proposed,  therefore,  to  sweep  away  these  bodies  entirely,  saving 
existing  Interesta,  with  a  number  of  kindred  chaplaincies  and  simple 
benefices  without  cure  of  soids.  The  net  rental  of  the  various 
chapters  is  returned  at  more  than  8,000,000  franca,  "thmigli  oi'teu 
badly  administei-ed."  A  considerable  saving  is  naturally  hoped  for 
from  tiiia  source. 

Another  great  reduction,  folh^wing  on  that  of  the  episcopatej  ift  prr> 
poseU  in  tlie  episcopal  seminaries.  These  at  present  are  considerably 
in  excess  of  the  sees, — 288  iu  all,  including  the  liigher  tlieological  and 
preparatory  scliools.  Like  the  bishoprics,  these  seminaries  are  very 
inegulttrly  distributed,  Theii"  joint  revenues  nmouTit  to  more  than 
3,500j000  francs,  spread  amongst  seminaries  and  provinces  without 
eitlier  measure  or  proportion  to  the  just  needs  of  tlie  institutions  them- 
selves orof  the  population.  Several  contain  a  nitmerous  body  of  scholars, 
where  they  belong  to  a  large  diocese — thus  30  are  returned  as  having 
more  tlian  lOfJ  students  ;  but  many  are  insignificant,  not  having  more 
thau  12  :  the  mean  is  below  57,  including  lay  as  well  aa  clerical 
students.  A  cousiderable  number  at  this  moment  are  closed,  either 
by  tlieir  own  bishops  or  by  tiovemment,  on  itccount  of  contraventioiia 
of  the  laws  on  public  instruction,  There  is  a  very  lan^fe  diminution 
in  the  number  of  candidates  for  the  priesthood  throughout  tlie  country 
at  present.  It  is  proposed  that  tlie  edifices  of  the  suppressed  semi- 
naries, and  that  portion  of  tlieir  property  which  was  destined  to  ele- 
mentary and  secondary  instruction,  shall  pass  to  the  provincial 
admiuistmtions,  to  be  employed  for  the  same  purpose,  vis.,  public 
instruction.  One  theological  seminary  is  to  be  recognised  for  each 
diocese,  into  which  students  shall  not  be  admitted  before  they  have 
completed  their  eighteeuth  year,  when  youtiis  may  be  expected  to 
have  finished  their  general  preparatory  studies,  and  to  have  made  up 
their  minds  as  to  their  cai'eer.  Thus  the  future  clergy  will  have 
(uidei^'Oiie  their  prejiaratoty  training  in  common  witii  their  fellows  of 


66o  Tfu  Contcmpoi'tiry  Rcvieiv. 

other  clftgsea,  Ptill  it  ia  miicli  t-o  be  regretted  that  uo  attempt  is  pro- 
poseJ  fcr  enf-ouroginy  tlie  attenrlance  of  the  clerical  stndenta  at  the 
fincient  universities  of  the  kingdom.  (5.)  Tlie  Eeport  speaks  in  terras 
of  wann  conuuendfttioii  nf  the  iiavnnliiul  clei^,  as  ihcise  \m  whom  the 
Stale  ought  largely  to  extend  {>rotecti4)n  luid  iavour.  It  dei>Itir&3  that 
in  Italy  so  larj;^  a  prnprjrtion  of  tlii'm  have  hitherto  received  so  small 
\\  proportion  of  tlie  rich  inhoritnnce  of  the  Church.  The  parishes, 
according  tn  the  ecclesiastical  rutiima,  uumlter  18,334;  hut  there  is 
a  discreponcy  of  2,000  between  tliia  number  aiid  that  of  the  retunis 
accompanying  thia  Rej>oii,  which  makes  the  [larishes  amnuiit  only  tn 
16,330.  This  diflerence  18  attributed  to  the  mode  in  which  these 
returns  were  based  on  the  mortmain  tax.  Tlic  totjil  rentals  of  the 
jmrisbes  are  I'etiimed  at  upwards  of  I4,'i0f>,000  Irancs,  exclusive  of 
3,500,000  francs  for  the  support  of  nearly  U  ,<)riO  endoweil  vice- parochial 
cures, — "[leriietual  curates"  we  might  coll  these  latter, — who  take 
charge  of  a  district  in  large  parishes.  To  tiiese  rentals  are  to  lie 
added  the  fees,  which^  in  large  parishes,  specially  in  cities,  often  form 
n  very  considerable  addition,  but  in  the  poor  country  jwirishes  are  of 
trifling  amount.  Of  the  parishes,  17  only  are  returned  as  having  a 
rental  of  lO.llOO  francs  and  upwards;  113  range  froni  10,000  t<i  o.OOO; 
upwards  of  l.OOO  range  from  5,000  to  'l.^m  \  more  than  4,500  from 
2,000  to  800;  whilst  no  less  than  10,603  are  rtiturned  at  leas  thaa 
SOD  francs,  of  which  1,420  are  below  300.  It  is  propoaed  to  bring  up 
all  to  a  miuiuiuni  of  SOO.  The  whole  number  of  secidar  clergy  em- 
ployed in  paiijchial  work  throughout  the  kingdom  ts  very  lar^e.  The 
retuma  are  given  only  fur  42  out  of  the  59  provinces  of  the  kingfiom, 
but  these  show  tio,<547  priests.  This  gives  an  average  of  l,,'i63  for  a 
pro^ce,  at  which  rate,  for  the  59  provinces,  we  shall  have  upwards  of 
92,000  jiarochial  clergy.  There  is  immense  disparity  in  the  popida- 
tion  of  the  pariishes.  a  large  number  containing  verj-  few  souls,  whilst 
others  ai-e  very  extensive.  This  is  the  case  with  some  in  Sicily^  where 
we  i-eniember  spending  an  evening  with  the  hoaiiitable  old  I'arroco  uf 
Aci-Reale,  between  Messina  and  Catatiia,  and  finding  bim  presiding 
over  a  parish  which  reminded  ug  of  some  of  our  owu  Colonial  buali 
parishes,  in  extent  twenty-five  miles  in  length,  but  with  a  staff  of 
curates  far  exceeding  tlie  clergy  of  many  of  our  CoWtai  dioceses,  viz.. 
nearly  ninety,  of  whom,  hnwever,  not  a  tenth  were  competent  to  preach. 
Three  or  four  of  his  stai!'  dropped  in  for  a  friendly  chat,  and  showtkl 
keen  interest  in  inquiring  into  the  constitution  and  teaching  of  the 
English  Church. 

(6.)  For  the  administration  of  the  funds  devoted  to  the  maintennnce 
nf  the  t'atiries  nf  the  cliurches,  the  project  proposes  to  establish  a  uni- 
form aysteiii  of  lay  boards  of  ailmiuislration  throughout  the  parishes. 
The  l'arrt)co  will  be  eligible  for  election  as  a  member  also,  but  will 


Politico-Ecclesiastical  Questions  of  tfie  Day  in  Italy.    66 1 

not  be  ftc  offi/iw  president.  The  Government  reserves  to  itself  a  certain 
share  in  the  nomination  of  members,  and,  under  given  circumstances,  a 
power  of  dissolution  and  re-election  of  these  vestry  boards,  as  we  may 
call  them.  Similar  lay  boards  will  be  appointed  for  watching  over 
the  maintenance  of  the  cathedral  fabrics.  In  these  the  bishop  will 
have  an  ex  officio  share,  "  as  being  the  person  most  interested,  in  order 
that  the  administration  of  his  own  church  may  be  an  example  to  the 
subordinate  ones." 

This  is  the  only  feature  in  the  scheme  which  marks  a  tendency  to 
restore  the  working  of  the  lay  element  in  the  Church.  It  was  here 
that  the  Select  Committee  of  which  Baron  Eicasoli  was  president  went 
much  further,  and  proposed  a  bold  return  towards  primitive  practice. 
"Whilst  they  agreed  in  the  main  with  the  present  project  in  regard  to 
the  suppression  of  monasteries  and  reduction  of  bishopries,  &c.,  and  con- 
version of  the  real  property  of  the  Church  into  rental  from  the  public 
funds,  they  spoke  strongly  against  placing  the  clergy  in  direct  sti- 
pendiary dependence  on  the  State.  This,  as  we  have  seen,  the  present 
project  also  professes  to  avoid,  though  in  appearance  more  than  in 
reality.  But  the  Ricasoli  project  proposed  to  withdraw  from  the 
State  all  share  in  the  administration  of  the  revenues,  by  giving  back  to 
each  diocese  and  parish  the  quotas  of  rental  te  be  respectively  allotted 
to  them.  These  were  to  be  administered  locally  by  boards  elected,  in 
each  parish  and  diocese,  by  the  votes  of  all  male  Catholics,  from 
amongst  clergy  and  laity,  over  thirty  years  of  age,  and  possessing 
certain  other  quaUfications.  But  further,  to  the  parochial  boards  was 
also  to  be  entrusted  the  nomination  of  the  parish  priests,  subject  to 
canonical  institution  by  the  bishop ;  and  to  the  diocesan  boards  was  to 
be  intrusted  the  nomination  of  the  bishops,  saving  the  rights  of  the 
Crown  and  ecclesiastical  superiors.  Thus  the  share  anciently  enjoyed 
by  the  faithful  in  the  choice  of  their  pastors,  and  by  clergy  and  laity 
in  the  choice  of  the  chief  pastors  of  the  Church,  would  have  been 
restored  after  a  fashion  mucli  akin  to  that  in  use  in  the  Reformed 
Episcopal  Church  in  America.  It  was  this  feature  which  vitally  dis- 
tinguished the  project  of  Eicasoli's  Committee  from  all  others  yet 
brought  forward.  There  can  be  little  doubt  it  would  have  led  to  such 
a  restoration  of  the  working  of  the  lay  element  in  the  Church  as  would 
gradually  have  resulted  in  a  more  thorough  return  to  the  primitive 
constitution  of  the  Church,  as  opposed  to  Eome's  present  despotic 
regime,  e.g.,  by  leading  on  to  the  restoration  of  diocesan  and  provincial 
synods,  and  thus  to  the  restoration  of  the  ancient  rights  of  bishops 
and  metropolitans,  now  wholly  lost  in  their  servile  dependence  on 
liome.  It  would  also  have  powerfully  tended  to  draw  the  clergy  into 
closer  relations  with  the  laity,  and  thus  into  harmony  with  their 
fellow-citizens  under  the  present  rigime.     In  all  these  ways  it  would 

VOL.  I.  3  X 


662  The  ConkfUporary  Review. 

have  tended  effectively,  though  indirectly,  to  promote  some  eventual 
reformation  of  the  Church,  the  need  of  which  is  daily  more  acknnw- 
ledged.  This  proposal  naturnlly  alarmed  Itonie  more  than  any  liitherto 
made;  it  was  currently  believed  at  the  time  thjit  it  stiuiulat*!]  the 
Pope  to  open  tlirect  commuuicationn  with  the  Kin;^  fwv  tilliiiji  up  the 
vacant  sees.  But  it  wfia  ahead  of  the  feeling  of  Parliament  at  the 
time,  and  a  confused  idea  prevailed  that  it  was  an  intrusion  hy  the 
State  iuto  the  proper  domain  of  the  Church  ;  whereas,  in  tnith,  it  was 
nothinr^  more  than  a  restoration  of  ancient  ri^dit?  long  enjoyed  by 
the  clergy  and  the  faitldiil,  and  that  only  to  a  partinl  iind  impi;Ffecfc 
extent.  It  remains  to  he  seen  if  this  ideii  wdl  again  he  entertained 
hy  Parliament.  The  jU'eaent  Heport  speaks  in  vei^'"  Vv^\  terina  of  the 
authors  of  this  "  dazzling  theory,"  wliich  it  considers  of  neither 
immediate  nor  easy  application.  thouj,di  it  claims  to  iidvauce  a  step 
nearer  towanls  it.  Meanwhile  it  catefuUy  rui^erves  to  the  Oovera- 
ment  the  power  of  exercising  watchful  auperintendenco  over  the 
geneml  admin  is  tr  at  ion  of  ecclesiastical  atlhirs.  One  pruviBiou  re^'ard- 
ing  "  foreign  prelates  "  rings  with  a  sound  not  unfamiliRr  to  oui'  own 
ears: — 

"  No  visitfttirrti  of  «  foreign  ecclcsinstical  superior  cun  tai"?  plat*  in  the 
iingiltim,  e:ith&r  ilir«ctly  or  hy  ik-lp^a'tit>n,  without  the  praTitum  assent  fif  the 
(IiiVcrmufiit.  .     .     No   piuvisiriii   nl'   thi'   Uiitioiial   t-ccleeiiwtiwi!   ijowitI 

shall  priKlucp  civil  effects,  imr  allVct  tRiiiparaliti*?,  if  not  n-nderoil  tiXLi-ukirj- 
hy  thu  <;iWl  power.  .  .  .  National  or  ini-tr«](*ilitari  [nmni-ilBj  and  din- 
ctaari  ajiioilei,  caimot  he  lieM  vithout  the  pfiivioua  assent  of  Ihti  Govern- 

UHiUL" 

The  strugg^le  against  united  Italy,  carried  on  through  the  help  of 
Peter's  pence,  seems  to  be  aimed  at  in  the  provision  that — 

"Collections  and  nlnn  for  riiid  iir  npj''iiTnt  scope  of  worship  ami  reUgioH,] 
and  reLij»i.ins  funL-liotiH  ontaide  the  chilrchos,  will   hu  forliiildifu  if  0«t  pn>- 
vi.msly  iii'viiiittcil  by  ( *nivi-niiu<_'nt.     Tbosw  who  vuntmvene  this  disposition.! 
iviil  Tk-  puiiLihud  ujuk'r  the  I'unal  Code." 

Ajipeals  against  abuse  of  ecclesiastical  power  will  be,  as  in  PranM, 
to  the  Council  of  State;  but  Italy,  more  logical  than  France,  will  not 
content  itself  with  simply  denouncing  eacli  abuse,  but,  in  case  nf 
need,  will  follow  it  up  by  sequestnition  of  re^enuea^  or  i-emovol  fmm 
his  See,  of  the  ectdeaiastical  oifender.  Lastly,  all  special  personal 
privileges  of  the  clergy,  and  of  those  who  asidie  to  the  pi'ie8tlio*Td.  arc 
abolislied ;  eg,,  seminary  students,  like  others,  will  not  be  exempt  froui 
the  military  conscription. 

Such  are  the  main  ftjatnre-^  of  the  Coi-teae-Sella  project.  Mean- 
while, just  lately,  a  new  iOea  has  been  broached,  nut  of  l*arlui- 
ment,  by  Siguor  Minj,'hetti,  formerly  Finance  iliuister,  who  also 
formerly  served  the  Po]ie  in  the  same  Ciapflicity.     iliughetti's  id«a  ha«, 


« 


I 


Politico-Ecclesiastical  Questions  of  the  Day  in  Italy.    663 

the  merit  of  simplicity.  It  is,  briefly,  to  call  on  the  clergy  to  convert 
the  whole  of  their  real  property,  within  ten  years,  into  any  other  form 
of  rental  they  like,  thus  securing  the  unlocking  of  the  lands  in  their 
hands,  only  leaving  them  to  transact  the  sale  themselves.  Then  they 
are  to  be  called  on  to  hand  over  to  the  State,  in  three  or  four  annual 
portions,  <me-third  of  their  whole  property,  and  are  to  be  left  in  undis- 
turbed control  of  the  remaining  two-thirds.  At  the  end  of  the  ten 
years  allowed  for  the  sale  and  conversion  of  the  landed  and  real 
property,  the  monastic  orders  are  to  be  no  longer  recognised — all 
considered  suppressed,  but  without  any  claims  to  pensions — the  exist- 
ing members  being  considered  to  have  had  time  and  means  to  pro- 
vide for  themselves.  The  whole  ecclesiastical  arrangements  of  the 
country,  bishoprics,  chapters,  seminaries,  parishes,  &c.,  to  be  left 
wholly  to  the  control  of  the  Church  itself,  i.  e.,  in  fact  to  Komo.  The 
State  to  withdraw  entirely  from  further  interference  on  receipt  of  one- 
third  of  the  existing  property  of  the  Chui-ch  as  a  "  discharge  in  full." 
Minghetti's  estimate  is,  that  the  real  property  of  the  Church  reaches 
seventy-two  million  of  ^wunds  sterling;  thus  twenty-four  would  be 
given  to  the  State, — say  six  millions  yearly  for  four  years.  The 
whole  annual  rental  at  present  lie  estimates  at  ninety  million  francs, 
—say  £3,600,000  sterling. 

There  is  no  doubt  that,  sorely  as  the  loss  of  so  large  a  slice  would 
be  felt,  Rome  is  less  disposed  to  object  to  this  proposal  than  any 
other;  and  it  is  believed  to  find  favourable  countenance  in  the 
counsels  of  the  French  Emperor,  as  smoothing  the  way  for  his  per- 
sistent attempts  at  reconciling  Rome  and  Italy.  But  it  appears  to 
meet  with  little  favour  amongst  Italian  statesmen  and  laymen  thus  far. 
They  dread  such  a  postponement  of  the  question  for  ten  years,  and  be- 
lieve the  Pope  will  only  be  rendered  more  obstinate  by  it,  and  that  he 
will  take  all  he  can  get  out  of  the  scheme,  but  make  no  concessions 
in  return.  Moreover,  it  has  been  conclusively  shown  by  an  able 
Canonist  in  the  Opinimie,  the  leading  ministerial  journal,  that  the 
idea  of  getting  the  bishops  and  clergy,  and  the  Pope  himself,  to 
sanction  such  a  voluntary  sale  of  Church  property,  and  renunciation 
of  a  third  of  it,  is  wholly  illusory,  and  contrary  to  all  ecclesiastical 
obligations,  and  will  be  found  impracticable.  Still  some  members  of 
the  present  Government  have  been  thought  not  unwilling  to  look 
favourably  on  Minghetti's  proposal  as  a  staving  off  of  present  em- 
barrassments, and  perhaps  in  deference  to  French  wishes ;  but  it  is  not 
expected  Parliament  wUl  listen  to  this  scheme,  which  woxild  leave  a 
powerfiil  and  compact  ecclesiastical  miLtia  under  the  uncontrolled 
direction  of  Rome,  and  a  thorn  in  the  side  of  Italy,  so  long  as  the 
spirit  dominant  in  Rome  shall  remain  adverse,  as  hitherto,  to  the  unity 
and  independence  of  the  country.    We  have  thus  endeavoured  to  lay 


664  Th$  Contemporary  Review. 

before  our  readers  the  present  aspects  of  these  important  questions ; 
but,  as  we  said  at  starting,  we  do  not  venture  to  predict  with  confi- 
dence in  what  shape  they  may  be  solved,  if  at  all,  during  the  present 
session  of  the  Italian  Parliament.  Since  we  began  to  write,  the 
Corteae-Sella  project  has  passed  through  the  preliminary  examination 
of  the  nine  pertoaaent  committees,  and  has  reached  the  second  st^^e, 
that  of  the  Select  Committee,  where  it  is  stUl  suhjudice. 

Lewis  M.  Hogg. 


Note  on  the  Article  ox  Chubch  IItxx-books  ix  No.  III. — Mesara.  Shair,  of 
Paternoster  Row,  request  iu  to  state  that  they  are  now  the  publiahers  of  Kemble's  Hymn- 
book,  and  that  the  present  editions  contain  ample  indices  of  subjects.  The  cheap  edition 
now  issued  ia  even  more  vcmderfnl  than  we  had  stated,  containing  the  150  Psalms  and 
624  hymns  for  ttoopaue. 

In  quoting  the  last  verae  of  Doddridge's  hymn,  p.  442,  a  mistake  was  made  through 
inadTertence.    The  first  line  should  run,— 

"  Christ  shall  the  banquet  spread." 


END  OP  VOLUME  I. 


^ErfTHETira,  prtigress  in  Kuictice  of,  280 ; 
English  jilniloHujilierB  liavi-  m-Hlcclod  t!iis 
field  of  lliw^iK  2S1  ;  U,  Cpiwiw'a 
"Eclnctidsin,"  whnt  it  mcuiit,  262; 
Coiuiii's  ilih^triiiea,  233 ;  in  tbe  highest 
Kit  life  it  ruprL>»eDted  as.  i(  is,  ^ST  ;  bJI 
diiiiR*  are  not  to  hv  rcprt*iMiti,'4,  297, 

Altar  lights,  ilid  tlie  uase  of  Wcatertoji  v. 
Liddi-U  •ii-dde  Iheip  ItgiLliCy?  13;  Df. 
Lusliinpton  declilcd  tlmt  caudleBtickfl 
niJi;hC  reiuuu  ou  Cominuniou-teVIe,  but 
only  for  mcesaar^/  purpotM,.  14  ;  no 
proper  ^unJ,  therefoti;,  for  alleging 
decision  ia  favour  of  altar  liglita,   H, 

j\r^  Chmtiaii,  not  eontninyd  within  same 
limits  na  ri^li^uuB  art,  6t> ;  all  tnie  and 
high  art  sact-L-d  fi'ijm  the  HfHt,  Of  ; 
reiLsouJ  nhy  L'hnstian  ii.rt  asjinincd  con- 
vpntqal  form  in  tliinl  and  fourth  cwri- 
turie<^  72,  7 S ;  niL^iiig  liulc  iu  Chriatian 
art  sunplicd,  77- 

Art,  (.'linstinu,  shovs  liret  sccuas  ortorror- 
i^rn  in  tenth  century,  377  ;  Mifihiiol 
Angelo  climinateii  religioila  sentiment 
from  art,  378. 

Anisti  lud  arti^t«3,  the  dUTci^nce  betwd'CU, 
27&. 

Angiis^e'a  helief  ia  sinfuliiosa  of  error, 
aSO;  his  character,  SSL 

BsoKBT  literature,  271 ;  contempoTariea  of 
Beck«t,2r2;  Arnulf,  BiHliopof  LesieiiK, 
272;  Master  David,  27^ :;  meritt  of  Mr. 
Hardy's  destiriptivu  catalu^^uc,  276, 

Beantiful,  a  cnnoaa  fact  with  relutiiati  to 
the,  293 ;  the  conditions  uf  pleasure 
niuBt  Iw  iliQ  conditJoHB  of  the  hewutlful, 
and  why,  SUE  ;  fnrct  aa  a  constituent  tn 
the  beauUful,  293,  296,  297  ;  the  iiivisi- 
hU  the  souroe  of  beauty,  hencHi  tha  atort- 
ing-pDiDt  of  iiEea-tlsnt.  'Z^8, 

Blnnt's  " Dir«ctorium  Poukiralo"  T(]view<sd, 
S€9  i  yieldii  to  mt  tt^il'ise  of  tta  kind  lu 
real  u^fidncaa,  SGII. 

Breeka  and  Woolfrey,  doi^ision  ia  cue  oS, 
"ItjyaliK'Ci  prayara  fur  di'ail,"  3, 

Brookfis'n  Life  of'^  F.  W.  Ki>bii':rti.on,  rilited 
with  ability,  but  not  fa^idtlGSHly,  247. 

CAMJiiciDnc  UnivL'raity,   what    inij{ht  ha 

exwscted  of,  617,  61B. 
Cambridge's  Hymus  un  Holy  Comiuuniou 

review>e(i^  GIO. 


Cafittilaf  C'linr<^h  af,  step  tjiken  by  it  as  to 
election  of  bishops,  3S3,  3Sy. 

Canon  of  Old  Tfulamunt,  when  was  it 
closedl  101;  Ew^ld'a  opinion,  102;  liia 
iuonuaiHluney,  103 ;  what  constitutes 
writing,'  caiiorjical,  104  ;  importaa^ai  of 
linKiiiijdc' nr^meut,  10^. 

CaUcniiit'B  Mmiuol,  tha,  reviewed,  367. 

CatAOomba,  Work  of.  Ems  realism  of  aim- 
plicity,  73. 

Cecil,  Kicliard,  saying  of,  6DS,  40Q,  007, 
H08,  811,  812,  613. 

Channing,  ehanRo  repfesented  by,  in  re- 
spect of  tolitratioa,  423. 

"Church  Qoveminent  iu  the  Coloni<»," 
two  gronniils  on  whieh  it  can  rest,  313  ; 
riOL-idiiirity  tif  first  colonial  biahupfic — 
Sova  Sooiia,  311  ;  invaliilitj'  of  grant  of 
coercive  juriddi'StioQ  brougbt  out  iu 
Tikmianio.  taati,  315  ;  greatetil  risk  Colo- 
nial Church  could  mUi  being  given  over 
to  Queontrolled  will  of  priestly  rnlcre, 
316  i  peculiarity  i>f  see  of  liupert'H  Ijaud, 
319;  a  point  of  so-rioiiB  moiutnt— Legal 
disabilities  of  bishops,  31S  ;  unadviialilu 
to  leava  i'lnlonimi  uurcgarddl,  :i:^3  ;  ana- 
logy of  civil  govonimeut  applieable  to 
Church  government,  323  ;  an  embryo 
chttroh  not  cupo.blQ  of  selF-governmentj 
H'i'i ;  cane  of  Bir.  Loi;;;,  A'H  ;  fr«o  action 
or  thoui'ht  uot  i>038iblfi  under  men  like 
the  Biahup  uf  Oa[iQtuwn,  328  ;  iDembera 
of  Colonial  Ciinrch  bave  power  to  hind 
themsttlvea  Ui^tlier  by  coatroul,  ^0; 
but  no  right  to  agree  to  be  (joverncd  by 
rnlca  iuconaistent  vrith  tbuir  [Hwition  as 
memberq  of  tboChurcii,  331 5  coutmcta 
therefore  insecure,  331  ;  ohjections  to 
right  of  &pp«i3l,  333 ;  the  hjirdahip  in 
causes  being  brought  froni  tlie  Colonies 
to  ho  trin.-d  at  home  no  greater  than  in 
civil  cauaca,  3:^1 ;  ficNt  reijutsite  of  s.  body 
whiuh  tias  to  or^aiii^u  it&ulf,  33A. 

Clinrcti  Servicu,  Str.  Bluiit'a  auggoa.tion» 
for  Bhortcning,  571. 

Ckr^,  minds  of,  driven  back  tyn  Diviuo 
origin  of  tile  Church  thirty  y^ara  ajjo,  2. 

Close  s  tlionghta  on  daily  choral  services 
reviowe^  5i)S. 

Coleuao,  bixliop,  on  missianti  tu  the  Zulus 
reviewed,  345. 

CoWridge's,  Sir  J.,  opimiuu  on  Conscionce 
Claiue,  Mi. 


666 


The  Contemporary  Review. 


Colonial  CTintth— ili.  t*cu1iar  fwisittan— hy 
Rtntiis  ju  folmiy  un"''iiiiipi'Lfil  wiilj  the 
Shilv,  but  imiiuil  mUL  C'liuniliat  h&uia^ 
aulij('<;t  til  l&w.  3:iS, 

ColoTiicR.  Cliun^li  Ciivcmrineiit  in,  gronnda 
on  wliicli  it  ran  rR»t,  lilS. 

CvEDiuGiJtnry  ou  New  Tesiuiueut  liyTrapp 
re*iewiKl.  I7«. 

C«Dcemiig  BTnl  believing,  dUtil]C:ti:^U  bu- 
Iweei),  3S  ;  i'iiii»fi]ni'iicc'»  of  tliis  tlialinr- 
tion,  3r  ;  iJ"L)iviiip  Peremm-litj'eKempteil 
\Titvt\  carditjuiLS  clicu  dillint'iit  fiuiu  the 
only  jji'i-scnialilv  luar  oivnl  wt  itirecCly 
know,  nnd  whicti  me  only  know  as 
wndiliuuud,  'it;  cn-nfeesioLS  uf  enrlier 
liiviues.  '&"*  :  it  ]>hiKi£0[>liii'[il  tbr^ology 
wliich  ji{i[ien!»  iirat  to  ktion-lpi5(;c,  but  lu 
igiiorai]i.'«,  G'U ;  tJiiji  ojhju  aL'kiiowleiJg- 
mciit  difte all' fill  to  luutiy  mind?,  40; 
HfttniltMi's  plijliMin]>l)y  sti'erH  u  middle 
coUTiic,  41  ;  iiolliiii^  lUeologii^nlljr  hovel 
in  Hrniilti!>n*a  systi'in,  43. 

"Ct>nsi.'ience  Clause,"  Bubalfinuo  of  hlntory 
n\  tbtt,  570 :  bow  Mr.  Linjji'n  Jiit  or 
eajwdient  of  roascieipce  t'lausi',  681  ; 
National  8oL>i«ty  ]iroteaCs  «i;alDst  1%, 
&&2  ;  an  scliULil  iLdo|<tiiig  cUuse  udmh- 
ted  into  Soi'iety.  6S1  \  ]K)Mtioii  i>f 
idprgymen  iicctjptiHg  Couscicncu  CliiuBi', 
583  ;  ailvaiitntri'ti  nf  iimttt^r  IigIli^  Avi- 
ciiBseU  in  rurlLanient,  A83 ;  what  re- 
quired of  psrentii  under  the  f^leiiBe,  685  ; 
Arcliiloicoii  Alleu'a  plitascoliigj',  fiS5  ; 
Sir  John  Coleridge's  opinion  miil  it'' 
inlluHUWv  58'S  ;  actual  intcrpretutinn  of 
clwuBt-,  68"  ;  bow  ctiiusa  w<iiild  wnrV, 
B88  ;  Mr.  Halliard's  objeetinns,  589  ; 
illiiii'Irutiona  of  jiuEitUui  of  Dh4>eutliig 
r-hiMren,  5!iO ;  f^rrov  of  Arcbdcftcon 
Drnisutt  and  bis  Folliiwiirs,  591  ;  Iioiv 
rcftiaat  of  I'ltfM!*  would  wurli,  ED3  ;  no 
evidetice  of  n  uiiiJipiict  or  contract  b«- 
twreu  L'oniinitteiaor  C^nndl  and  Ifiiiion. 
id  Society,  6[J.S  ;  wlijtt  tbe  umti-nila-Hrt- 
iii'j  aniDTintR  ti\,  5fl5  i  Mr  Hubbard  aa 
dofeiKJer  of  rtlvgiiius  freedom,  597  ;  o|i- 
pouentH  tif  (.'oiitK'ii'iiL^i;  riauKb  apjival  lo 
L'iniivittioMM  worthy  I'f  nil  rc)»|icc-r,  691)  ; 
C'uuBcieqee  Clause  nglit  ill  principle, 
dou  ;  cUuac  JiKould  n-i^<i  to  hu  opcruLlvQ 
01)  certatii  ciia«a,  601  ;  tint  niiicn  eyU  to 
be  fL'fti'C'ii  from  BplalioD  Bg&mst  claitsp, 
603. 

CtjiiPEiousneBa  |iri;swnta  ili-elf  lu  ii  rtlntiuii 
between  the  {icrsnii  coiiacio-uji  jiud  that 
of  which  h«  is  coniiciDUK,  32 ;  modes 
tulseii  for  till' rpiluutjon  oftlii'SJ?  two  far  tors 
lo  one — ilaltri'tlism-,  Idealmn,  and  !a- 
/lij/irciili»m  i?i  which  chdrnclcristii;  dif- 
fL'tL'ticcs  of  mind  nnil  nintter  disajijiear, 
3J  ;  Uhristiaii  pLdosopUy,  nnlikv  Grvek 
|ihilosopliy,  niuht  in  iu  hiyhtr  jilinse 
concern  itself  with  the  uxiattiicu  and 
nature  of  lioil,  34  ;  solution  nf  question 
of  unL'omlitioiir.'d  coniparnth'uly  tasy 
voro  m^mi  r  lieiii^  of  intellect  uloiie,  34. 

Coiivociition,  ciinoiiH  of,  nre  lejijilly  valid 
if  thej  htt>*t'  bucii  rormally  sMictiuutd  by 


Si>7eirf  i(;n,  11 :  cfLDitiis  of  1640  m  a  aId- 
gtiliir  ]iosLtiari,  nud  wliy,  12  ;  lawyers 
rKjianl  tlicni  as  'livi  IctWr,  12, 

ConrcH'atLoii,  tliv  ^ti'pti  ncccaeury  fur  u- 
uniblii;,'^  uf,  251  ;  (iri>f''c dings  of  Tun* 
vocation  in  June,  IM5.  thi-  samo  as  tlmt 
ill  liciiff  uf  Etiziilietli,  "iM  ;  reUliwu  of 
th«  Upyier  and  I^WRr  TIousab  tn  c-ach 
OlIiLT,  '253  •  mode  of  ti-]>reBebI*tiuu, 
'i'>i  ;  a:)uriialit.'s,  255  ;  neciircJ  lorjpi 
aiiioiiiit  of  n?fO(,'rii  I  inn.  258;  niwle  of 
tiiudiK'ti»f;  buBiufsa  only  siueimI  to  futtc- 
tion  of  atuttdilii;  cotiihiiltee  nn  cMif'^'h 
niattnrs.,  257  ;  Ijowl-t  Hoiiie  subject  to 
the  Uppi,-r. 'ifiP ;  casn'  yf  i^jya  onrf  A>- 
vUicn,  26-2  ;  lliiiliii])  of  Xutid's  l»i>ok  cvn- 
eurai,  503  ;  ln.'it  two  yeatn  titrongChencl 
position  of  t'uu vocation,  2'tU. 

Cortes B-Bwi In,  the,  projiji,'!,  044. 

Cousin's  E<?Lccticidui,  28'2.;  his  work  rot 
chielly  n^uigs  true  live,    1263;    bu   reduii^, 

Chysii^al  and  intellectual  lo  niarai  \ 
eimty,  254. 
Crutc,  iiuiHiTLancu  itf,  551  ;  its  natural  , 
udva.Ti1iii,'ea.  ii52  ;  CrctuB  csperipoi-e  ot 
Ottoman  rule,  555  ;  Captain  Spnitt'a 
Iwok,  55^.  557  ;  aiiiifiuities  of  Orete^ 
the  labyriuth,  ASS  ;  Cnptain  MitiiaSa 
S.'^P;  iiioUHtuin  j^rot-es  of  Ida,  &*>'!'.  |te- 
culinr  cun Formation  of  I'Tett,  SBS  ;  jiojiu- 
laliuu,  5Q1S ;  war  with  Turkey,  561. 

DesihoM,  Arclidencoti,  errar  of,  5'J\. 

Doxalocy,  th^,  when  it  is  kuiiiible,  US. 

Dutch  Churclif  Btatistitra  of,  451  :  chniiKts 
broiiglit  about  by  Frelieh  BevoIiiliHi, 
459  i  rBfrulalioita  ini[Kjaed  by  King  Wil- 
liaia  1.  )i«:cepteii  by  [woplo,  but  preju- 
dieiiil,  453  [  uifmbcTs  of  Uburtjb  no  voum 
iti  call  -if  [lastor,  4SS  ;  Ur.  Ojiawmi-ra 
s_V8te|»i,  4i;tl  ;  liildprdijk  opjKisea  ntioii- 
nliiiktiu  niciveniciU.  4CI7  ;  uQurt^  fur  rvlivi^ 
and  repn-sfiitiitioii:*,  47l'>  iTl, 

"  Eclectic  Xotfls,"  by  Joliu  H-  Pnii, 
reviewed,  fi04. 

Educatiiu,  whnL  true,  ia,  S4  ;  school irnuter 4 
should  bij  pL<rmiiuL-ut,  87  ,  coininnu  I 
Inult  to  giv^  t1)«  ijiuatcrs  niurv  boyal 
than  CEQ  he  dealt  with,  97  ;  &<!vUi4ou  vti 
ponint  flBilufiion  of  lioya  r«couLm ended, 
89;  Mr.  Thriijg's  sejiantte  study  theory  I 
def^gtivi!,  91;  liionia  of  "ibu  bumt^kj 
t1i«nrv/'  i*^  \  triio  [iriuL-ipl«  to  ipiida 
]iutii«lifnent,  P3;  truu  individuality,  34,! 

Kducntiuii  of  wumiin,  iuoru  reeanl  paid  tAJ 
it  ill  1>n.^t  diiy>i   ihnu  usually  su[>|>oMrd, 
397  i  PaJiton  letttra,   what  thfy  prove. 
308,  SH9  ;  Viotorian  rcigii  chi\riti-ttri2-id 
by  grciit    efforla  to    fiiisc    alsnidarvi  oL 
woiiLQu'a  lonrii)  and  intttUL-ctual  uci{uir»>] 
meiiti<,    4UI  ;   iniflucnce  of    (.■luignLtion, 
403  ;  (svil  L'ltei!tft  nfiiarents  dcuiatidiiti.;  » 
amatteniig   of    every   bnincii    of  know- 
ledgB,  4(15- ;  unrpasounbleiu-!.!.  of  foniin;; 
acquirornvnts  where  tio  uutnml  aptitmlv, 
407  ;  the  l^ust  iin^rul&c  tbo  mmi3«  at  duly 
U)  Gud,  408  ;  tuJjM*  collegKi,  good  duita 


Index, 


£67 


1>y  them,  409  ;  lionefila  of  local  uiiirrraity 
exftminntiana.  iTO,  4U  ;  result  i>f  vf.- 
unuutiouR,  iVi. 

"Eirenicn,"  hooka  entitled    lo    rnnk   bs, 

Eirenitoii.  BubjettH  avi|;;»;4-3ltd  by  Dr. 
Pusey's.  6S4  ;  defcierB  i)f  sclieine  pro- 
pimeil,  535  ;  how  Chiirc^b.  uf  Uuirie  exer- 
uses  mioli  iiurnclwii,  5a8  ;  ailvai|tiii{>rs 
or  (jfi^  utlcmtit  III  [ipfiiM,  S37  ;  wbftC 
iieci:MBr>'to  Kniiiuititi.  63S  ;  tht  liireui- 
riiR  ai>|iri>ai:l)rH  JilfL-i'tiii:ca  witli  uiirii:)!- 
takal^io  'iettiTf  for  ppin-i',  GafI,  fi39  ; 
tone  of  cunciLiuuuu  tuvvardtt  ]N''oncoD- 
fuFraiHtH,  538;  elR-i't  ^^^  "  Kireoicnii"  on 
Articles  hikI  coiircHaiinia  Reiienilly,  548; 
Tmct  XC,  ttio  EinfUifiMi,  "oJ  ilm  Ar- 
ticles. .'i4E. 

Ely.  Bbbuji  of,  his  pIiiiFjS  revi^'wed.  171. 

Eui.igr.it ion,  ii»  fetlijct  uu  uduLAtiou  of 
WORICH,  4i>2. 

Fn^Utid,  Church  ot.  hor  reverem^o  for 
R.ntii[llity  ami  oLlIiohtity  dmliiij^uiBheil 
lier  ffim  other  ProU">tiiii;t  Iwdieit,  2  ; 
litDi'o  9[rrKa  luM  011  miimto  iwinta  of 
rituiil  ill  ibi!  nrjjiimcrit  ua  to  Cliurcli 
nnii  State,  mid  Hip  ri:U:TfW.-(i  tft  flll- 
liijuity,  2 ;  wliy  Liiiirch  of  Eii^lnnJ, 
moro  thiiii  rttlitr  tliLiTyLeH,  j-cimirts 
&aaiKCnii>i?B  al  Le^dlutun,'.  %3-^. 

EnxlifiK  ritud  M:en  not  to  be  same  &&  iu 
former  aw?8,  i  ;  aiitlioritalivo  ili'>i:isuiii. 
need eil— lien ce  jiii|({me»i9  of  uri'losias- 
tical  roMrts,  3  ;  case  of  FnllllLncr  i'. 
LiU'lilicKi  slioiBcd  [liut  liiiv  coiirls  could 
not  ifjnorij  refurEniitiMii,  4;  jud^^nieiit 
inilicAlfH  great  weight  of  eimctiiieiits  atiil 
fttithorities  of  MiKtttlitli  ami  B«Vpiiti;i'ntlL 
panturies,  B ;  rSL^e  of  SI.  Ilnnialias  mi* 
rtivuumble  to  exiremo  ntuitliam,  7. 

Kaclkskk  r.  Litchfi^lil,  c<wi  of,  wlist  it 

fthowBii,  4. 
Fjtwcttt'a     '"KiToiiotiiii^     Ponilion     of    t^lA 

British  Libmirur"  revifu'eiil,  !150. 
Fosltir,  Vmv.  H.,  V4iyiii}{iiof,  ijil, 
Fry,  the  Rar.  W,,  renurks  by  him,  All. 

G*nfiEtT"B  "Relipou  ill  Coninion  Lif«" 
reviewti],  S.lfl, 

GermiR  theolifgy,  Sdilejermaclier'a  infliii- 
piLce  in,  \1'i,  474  :  divji^Loii  aiiioii<{  tlii! 
oTipoiieiits  of  mtioiiiilistic  niciveraent* 
474  ;  Eichliom,  the  minister,  eecks  to 
iiiii)  n.  niGiliurii  for  tiuioa,  474  ;  t[iDg 
withlioMa  Bitnctlon  froui  "doctnniil 
oriiinaTicu,"  475 ;  iimpediineDta  to  iiuiCed 
ucILlhj,  475  ;  Slrjtiifts  n-jrcts  tliGonts  of 
Kichho-rn  and  Puiilu.^  47^. 

GorerncEB,  iai[^  ponitiuu  of  tha,  in  ho- 
ciety,  406. 

GoTeTTiTiient  palronnge  lessened  in  propor- 
tioQ  oa  clergy  are  dnreD  bock  on  Diviuf 
origin  of  tbe  Charcb,  2. 

GMece,  poofl  book  of  travola  in,  ii  deside- 
mtum— Sir  Thwmna  Wyse'a  "  Kjn'nr- 
HJoti"  «upf>H"B  tliis,  51  ;   coiiditi'jns  of 


tTBTelliog  in  Gniece  peculiar,  53  ;  com- 
pensatinns,  54  ;  Moaemvasia,  55  ;  ninr 
unvistted,  but  c?lebrAte<l  in  Middle  Ai^ 
OB  "Ii(iilvDiiuu,"  55;  Marutli&nlsL,  ita 
improvenKOtH,  6fl  ;  Spurta,  58 ;  rugged 
rangiB  of  Taygetus,  6U  ;  great  defect  of 
Greuco,  waut  of  roads  to  iiarry  prodiK'e, 
61  ;  wAt^rfdll  of  Styx,  65;  tnoniutic  in- 
Rtitutions  of  tireeoH,  6.5. 
Qu&rdLau  Angel'a  WbUjtere,  the,  reviewed, 
3fi9. 

Halik,  requiromiBntB  in  divioLtyat  nniver- 

aity  of.  52.^.  51fi. 

Haoailtou,  Hir  WiUi&tn,  phitoB^phy  at^ers 
middle  course  beitWeeii  Pnrilhdjiln  and 
Poaitirism,  41  ;  ha  declares  both  wrong, 
41 ;  nothing  thdolo^ciiUy  novel  in  Hii- 
tiuhon'a  system,  A'A  \  n-ith  liiui  the  non- 
conditioned  in  philnsofihy  &s  in  fcUgioU 
was  matter  of  belief,  uot  knowleiifte,  44  ; 
thiu  the  carFlinal  ixjiut  in  his  philosophy, 
4H ;  FlurailCon  wnuld  deaKirniiiato  tha 
achool  Blr.  Mill  is  of  aa  rtrtmilly  utliO- 
i^stic,  47  ;  Mr.  Mill  makea  beliuf  in  an 
itnmaturiivL  principW  supfirtluous,  47 ; 
di&metricil  ditfeTSUce  nma  through  all 
their  views  of  mCiital  scietieP,  48  ;  Mr. 
Mill  mieaes  Hamllton''8  meaning,  4S ; 
HamiitoTi  avoids  suuptiu^iL  wucluuiou  by 
distinctbm  beLWceti  unde^rs'tatidinf  nnd 
reason,  187  ;  Hnmiltonantii-ipBted  Stlll'a 
otijcL'tioua,  I'9I> ;  his  dor.triiieti  of  Rela- 
tivity and  UAtural  llcalmiu  (|nit«  com- 
palilile  with  flach  other,  192  ;  how 
HniniU'iti  uiius  thf-  ti^nos  "uncoiidi- 
tioneil"  Hud  absolute,  IfiG,  11>9  ;  Hnmil- 
tdn'^  distinctic^ii  betwijen  the  iudeSnite 
and  iiifinitfi  napercedred  by  Mr.  Mill, 
200. 

"Hebrew  Kings  and  Prophets,"  by  Dean 
Rtanky — its  Bttructioua,  Q15  ;  rartll.A 
satisfactory  advance  en  the  fornler,  fll  9  ; 
Urelitce  reality  of  ]>ortrait  of  Saul,  117  ; 
tcnna  objected  to,  6L8;  Diivid,  HVJ-, 
beat  lerturea  reliite  to  Solcmoii,  621  ; 
Solomon's  wisdom  denotefl  practical  tact, 
aa^jncity,  pcnetiatioii,  622 ;  proof  thu 
extent  O'f  the  SolouiomaQ  trade.  623  ; 
ProFerbannd  S^clcaiastea  moat  distinctly 
associated  with  8i>loinou,  6'J4  ;  cliarac:t?r 
of  Elijah,  62S-9  j  Qiiwritte-n  prophwvy 
ntes  to  hijjheat  point  iu  liiiii,  ti28 ; 
Dr.  Stanley  gone  too  far  in  a  mere  na- 
toraliatic  treatment  of  the  Bible,  640. 

Ueinfettcr'^  Liteml  Tmoslatiun  of  tbe  Old 
Tcatament  reriowad,  353. 

Hill's  Trttveia  in  Egypt  and  Syria  raviowed, 
348. 

Hubbard,  Mr.,  aa  dafender  of  retigioos 
freedom,  fiST. 

Hullah's  lectiirBB  an  muaia  rcviewoj,  504, 

Hutton'a  Slndiea  in  Parliament  tETieWiKlj 

Hymu-bookfl,  metrical  Teraions  of  Psalms 
'iii,  nafclesa,  4115  ;  Kemble'a  tho  moat 
complete  book,  437;  '  S.  P-  C.  K." 
worst  armn^ed,    437;    ]i'i  reasnn   n^hy 


6fia> 


Tlu  Contemporary  Remew, 


hynini  atoaU  Im  Mpfessed  in   plnral 

number,    441  ;    wIjcti   tLo   doxoloify    is 

Bdtable,  445,  41lt, 
"Hyraiia  Aiwieiituinl  H™lem"  first  ntnotig 

fii-!itoFli\"nia-borjk,i.  43.";. 
Hymn,  Englislj,  what  it  bIiouIiI  ba,  448, 

InA,  niuantBij]  (iroupof,  5(J2. 

Iriiljji,  rpRsou  o!"  indifferttiuo  to  aflain  fA, 
123  ;  tlwp  iTiiprBsl  oF  the  CTiurcli  in 
Indian  questions,  124  ;  first  neceftsnry  of 
raissionftry  to  tako  Brcount  of  toao  gf 
thrjwgKt  and  nction  itmirmfr  Englislim^n, 
125  :  ?(re<^ta  of  recput  Biiilic»l  rritlciim 
on  old  liiiliiLiia,  12ti ;  tfw  bphI  of  Cliurcli 
in  InJin  IB  men  able  tn  deiil  witli  tJiose 
(Hspated  ciufstionH,  l'2<i ;  rTil*  of  liivr 
Btttridurd  o'  native  tencljeTa,  IIJS;  tlie 
couvcrt  ahould  study  Orpek  litcrutiire 
u  being  lefuftt  iiUen  to  liis  own,  132; 
KnRliH.1i  books  not  good  clAa^-booka  fni 
Orientah,  13S. 

Indian  niiKioDiirii'H,  ilurccta  of  traiiUQ£  iu, 
\1\i  :  tlio  rrallUs  of  this  129, 

IrdiJin  qncstion,  ii  diflirnlt,  13i  ;  Mr, 
tilniiie'ii  fTtnn.'wnl  \n  {iBmitt  n-injirriiige 
fif  foni'erls,  1,15  :  Striptural  olijuctiflna 
to  proposed  marriaj^e  bill,  137. 

IiiKi-AMi,  NoTEK  Fiiiiji  —  IriHh  Chardb, 
alatibticB  rf^nrOin^'tlit^,  499  ;  ndviintiLi(es 
ft-hii-h  would  nttfiiil  uniting  yot  furtboT 
rural  parisIieM,  4!itJ ;  Botupin  Hftthollc 
prifistliood  not  promoters  of  loyalty  to 
Britisb  ouUiority,  4PI ;  tduentioii  in 
Irokml,  4!i2 ;  Irish  tlw-ologicnl  litera- 
ture, 493  ;  nRturnI  Bcience  in  IHaud, 
494 1  Irieli  literatnre,  Vih  ;  death  of 
Sir  WiUimi]  llaiulltont  utronomer  Foyal 
for  treUutl,  4!'9. 

Ireland,  C'Knnijile  of,  in  tlieologiml  train- 
ing. ."iSa  i  riii'inity  coiirwiof  finiCiMKjri/'e/? 
acndtmi'-  tiniri  exocti-'i!,  523  ;  McViir- 
tlielesB  DnbUn,  Hulfera  rroin  "Uoloch  of 
(■"wnbriJuf  idiiklO","  52S. 

Itnlittn  PartiAitient,  monnftteTieB  dtscDBsed 
in,  1^63  Bcision  of,  642;  ciril  marriage 
ind  naliflnaJ  udiioatjon,  047. 

Jepf)>GT8'  "Easy  Ouide  to  Doctrine  and 

Prayer"  rericwed,  35?. 
"JcBUS  t^mpti^d  in  tho  "Wilderness^"  by 

Adolplio  Monod,  reviewed,  ISM. 
JoiilTroy's    iiiflnencp,    230 ;    hJa    "  Coura 

d'EstLetiijiLP.  "2Wil ;  ennaca  of  slight  popn- 

larity  in  FranL-c,  290  ;  Take  of  Ids  lee- 

tiir«i,  300. 

LinrFJt'  colleges,  pood  done  by  tliom,  409  ; 

yet  ByBt«m  siK^li  aa  sboald  not  be  g«ae- 

mlly  refommended,  40M, 
Lefc'fl  "  Oatccbizifi^  on  the  Trayer  Boole" 

reriewed,  33". 
Ut^uq's    ".Scifln.M   of   tho    Ecftutiful " 

characterized  by  rotnplcteneAB  of  deaign, 

301  ;  yet  rr. an ti (.factory,   3(1],  802  ;  his 

intelloctunlist  tendency,  304. 
IfOcal  univentity  exuiniaations,  ilH,  411, 

413. 
Long,  the  cbbd  of  Mr.,  324,  330. 


KaKsKl's,  Hr.,  Krgnment,  30^  ;  Mr.  Hilt's 
fflisrepreKntationK  of  it,  203. 

U^yriclt  b  "  Precis  ?nvats  QootidiaiUB 
Lann»loti  Andrewea"  rsTiewed,  filO. 

Mill,  Mr.  J.  ty.,  midimderstaiLds  HamiltoD'a 
theory  of  relativity,  13S;  be  demmnds 
nwre  of  philuisoiihy  than  HamiltoD  deems 
it  can  acMmj^liili,  ISf;  Mill's  objec- 
tions onbcipatcd  by  IloniilEon,  190 } 
Mr,  Mill  etunible«  on  the  tliresliotd 
with  rcpanl  to  thi  "absolute,"  10.1; 
Aonrces  of  Mr,  Mill'ii  errors,  184^  lii9; 
iaconsiiitcndcB,  anfi;  his  mbtake  as  to 
th*  inlii.itp,  213  i  onotlter  ifftioralio 
etmeh  od  Mr.  Mill's  part.  217;  Hamil- 
ton Would  hold  the  i^liaol  Mill  i«  of  oj 
virtniilly  atheistic,  4". 

MiracidouB,  belief  in  tho,  375;  nvwd, 
owing  ia  ituQnBible  modification  &f 
liuiotin  Irtlicf  aa  to  Bnpernatnral,  376, 

MoiioaterieB,  abolition  of,  likely  to  form 
^ccapntion  of  l&t)^  session  of  Italian 
PaTliam^Qt,  643;  the  Kind's  fromiee  at 
to  encuiabrEx] cca  of  bationAl  life,  013; 
the  Cortese-sella  project,  644  ;  sale  of 
real  proj'crty  of  t'liurch,  6J5;  plan  for 
fluppr^Rswn  of  nion&aterica,  (^4$,  d49. 

Monastic  institutions  of  Greece  very  de- 
giwled,  6Ti. 

Mozart'^H  Icttors,  tronalated  by  Lady  Wal- 
lace, reviewed,  1^1, 

Musir  the  snpTeme  art  of  one  day,  309,  810, 

Natai-  rase,  different  fc^liIlgH  prodnced 
by  the  fatnouK,  311  ;  it  showa  what 
might  be  especteii  from  unreatmuL-d 
liberty,  327:  dau^'prE  of  sbaolate  indc- 
jwiidciH'e,  337. 

Netrton,  Jolui,  uyingt  of,  469,  6199. 

Orka>ie?<ts  in  En);Iish  churehoa,  what 
th«y  are  deliued  to  bu  in  rubric  of  fim 
Praycr-bool:  if  Edwaid,  1.^  ;  chrono- 
liogicul  objection  to  rubric  of  Prayir- 
book  ini^t  hy  Jndiciu.1  Committee'^  an- 
swer, H I  tiino  when  royij  asnent  giTcn 
to  Act  not  inDteriai,  17  %  this  mbric  does 
not  direct  uiic  of  lij^hts  at  nltar,  17;  if 
ordinonea  in  force  as  to  altar  ligbta,  tbeu 
huly  water,  oscuktor)'.  und  pyx  idioald 
bo  u&ad,  20  ;  ArcJibiahop  Pitkham 
quoted,  20  ;  old  canons  eren  nyidiml 
itna^M,  21  ;  altar  not  djwcrilxfd  Witt 
iBcnnical  cnrrectneio  by  term  "oma- 
ntent,''  20  ;  contradictions  in  ritnaliBdc 
a^^ree meats  as  to  ornaments,  2'!;  royal 
ifljuncticin  of  Kdwatd  VI-  of  no  iinpiin- 
oiife,  and  tho  rrason,  23;  a  rule  ptrr- 
uittiiig  of  definite  additions  no  rule  at 
aU,  24  ;  confusion  consequent  on  arbi- 
trwily  iJghtinH  handles  on  iha  tiltar,  £5 ; 
Teatcnents  and  ornamfiita  rericed,  not 
because  found  sncdiiBval,  buL  bci^UM 
rcform«rB  tlion^,''!it  Uicm  worthy,  28  ;  an 
ipifmriunt  difltiuction  ^al'sr  and  com- 
munion-tab K  30. 

Oxford  Udivcraity,  wliat  might  be  «r- 
p^tod  of,   j;7i    iirci;«ii-ii«i.   of  grudn- 


huinx. 


669 


■.tei  wLo  eoti-r  the  Church  diminislieJ, 
514;  rauSEB  of  thia,  £19;  no  exsminn- 
tlon  renatred  for  stodeats  iu  diTioity, 

m% 

Painters,  Christian,  wliy  they  copied 
Tiagiin  jormH,  73 ;  flidtinctioa  Vietwcen 
English  Cliri.ttinn  artists  and  tlift&e  of 
tho  Contirieiit,  78. 

Pwrker,  TIil-o-Iur',  his  enrly  Uf«,  423 ; 
died  at  Florence  in  hia  fiftiiuth  j?«ftr, 
425;  hia  chnmcter  djiiI  doctrincSr  426, 
448;  lijs  "ntiBolute  religio-n"  dinpensej 
with  rBveUlion,  437 ;  the  faw  givnt 
truths  held  by  Cliristcmlom  hs  treata 
with  cciitenitit,  4'29 ;  "  God  lieconifl' 
mnn"  i»  to  ni|u  a  uianifi^iit  ■bBurdity, 
420 ;  Pnrker's  mind  art  phUoaophicid, 
but  jifiasiftHfllO'  and  riictorioftl,  430  ;  ttm 
not  capable  of  nltcriofj  liisi  standpoint, 
431 ;  3VD1IJ  groii")  pf  gold  !□  his  auLGTaci, 
43S. 

Fuhky'a,  Mr.,  estimates  of  Cretan  popn- 
liition,  MX 

Pststorol  w-ork,  569;  Archbishop ■Wliately's 
"Parish  Piiatur"  (quoted,  5J3. 

PorMCHiEluLi,  floyuiRtic  baaCa  of,  traced  by 
Ur  I'i:cky  to-  cicLuaive  Bolvatioti,  Sr6; 
Aagustine'a  belief  in  siiiftilaesa  of  airor, 
SSO ;  development  of  tho  id^  of  perse- 
catioD,  382. 

PhiltBOphj-,  l-liristiiin,  must  concern  itaclf, 
in  italiigher  plisfio,  with  the  exiateaei? 
aui)  nature  of  (fod,  34. 

Pictures,  the  early  portahlsj  75. 

PoitraitLsts,  Eiituis^ii  Heynolda  the  most 
brilUiint  of,  3H5  -,  pnrtrnit  painting  a 
Beceasity  iu  KngUiiJ,  3S3  ;  fffiiduaLly 
declined  since  clnyB  of  Reynolds,  386  ; 
the  odTEiit  of  I^wrcn4.'o  imfortunQto, 
887  ;  improvement  within  laat  forty 
years,  387  ;  qualificotioris  of  porti^tiat, 
8Sfi  ;  tone  of  modem  society,  which 
oppuaoH  m^rkfid  churncter,  adverse  to 
portraiuire,  360,  3SP3;  iulluonec  of  photo- 
grajihy  benelidal,  3-94. 

Prait's  "OraulL's  ofGod"  raviuwed,  358. 

Puritana,  tiio,  what  they  pguj^ht  in  KflW 
Enfiltind^  jlti  ;  little  freedom  of  thought 
Bllowcd  jiu)oiig  thutn  owiti^  tO'  position 
of  civil  ningistrate,  417;  eviilitiitly  such 
Bj'Btem  could  not  to  mainla-ineU  in  a 
lapidly  iucrcusing  society,  417  ;  -ledine 
of  religious  feeling  in  first  hnlf  of  eigh- 
teentli  centiitr,  413;  weakness  of  the 
con^'gationsl  i!yst<<ni  s^o,  41P. 

"  Puaty  on  Duiiiel"— leamod  but  bitter  in 
tono,  97  i  the  Puiey  part)"  creat  obstacle 
to  fonu-atinn  of  "now  era  m  theoloKy," 
SS :  "Daniel"  revives  an  old  utm^le, 
89 ;  Dr.  ruSeyaUcceHaful  in  account iligf Of 
DanierB  Cnerisriis  in  opiioailion  to  Dr. 
'Willianis,  lOS  ;  only  purnally  ri^ht  iis  to 
Cltaldee  of  Daniel,  110  ;  orguinent  os,  to 
dilference  of  Dnnifl's  language  from  that 
of  his  cuntemjiurBTiea,  113;  dia^iiiaitioR 
to  Gtruiu  mcaniL^  of  texta,  117;  in- 
RtuceB,  118,  lis. 


llATtoNAilsM,  ftko  of  Mr.  Loeky'swork  on, 
%^\,  SiES ;  the  wurd  rattonoliim.  oaed 
vax'iS'ly — twij  diir«reut  Jtensea  in  which 
iised,  SOB,  367 ;  poaitiTism  in  rtflfition 
to  ratioUQliam,  887;  whcroin  Mr.  Lctky 
diRwrs  fruin  Buckle  Hid  the  pogitivista, 
371. 

Batidniilistic  taovemeot  a  movement  of 
reason,  not  a  blind  isaae  of  sentinient, 
SiJ4  ;  hiij^heut  impulaes  of  the  morement 
camo  from  the  thitolugitsl  sphere,  S6A, 
383. ;  the  history  of  theology,  in  one 
Eenae,  the  hiattiry  of  rationalism,  37(1 ; 
thu  chief  moruL  dcvflopunent  of  the  nt- 
tionalistic  "movemiint  sc4;n  in  changa  as 
t«  conception  of  bell,  37P. 

Realkt  and  Idealist — ho]>ea  of  modern  art 
reiit  on  formor,  and  huw,  71  \  work  of 
ffttflfflmlia  has  rcnlism  of  Bitnpli«ty.  73. 

"  Reformatio  Loffum  Ecclesiaaticafiitn  " 
uever  ratlSed,  and  the  Act  25  Hen. 
VIII,,  c.  lU.  RjTived,  and  enacted  to 
extend  to  Eli?flheth  and  her  licira,  11. 

Etibertsuii,  FriKlerick  William,  his  youth, 
221  :  fiiH  di^.-jitisfactiou  with  hinuelf, 
224;  nil  hia  earlyiafliiencea derived Croui 
Evangelicals,  225;  infinencfid  by  Tnict- 
ariau  moTemi^nt,  229 ;  Corlylbanii  O-ermali 
iL]etftp!3y«icssti|lfEirtherd«tHphhim  from. 
tiie  pst,  229;  life  at  CheUeuham  no 
longer  possible,  230;  Iiis  hno  qualities, 
232;  iu  Brigbtfiu,  preached  at  a  wlitta 
heat,  233;  contiMnpt  for  mere  poptilarity, 
23S;  love  for  nature,  237 ;  differences  of 
opinion  nbotit  hia  teaching,  23S ;  lie  eome- 
timea  caricatured  Evan^elicAl  lioctrioe, 
S40 ;  tolerant  not  from  indifference,  bat 
loyalty  to  truth,  242;  a  grertt  unity  iu 
hia  tenehing,  241;  Mr.  Brooke's  volninL'5 
abl-e  but  not  faultless,  247. 

Roman  Church,  sale  of  real  property  of, 
645 ;  rights  which  atate  resctrcs  to  it^eli 
a^  to  fidnB  nnnilj«r  of  biahopHca,  likely 
to  be  beneficial,  645  1  civil  nmrris^  ana 
netional  educntioTl,  647:  how  Rome'says- 
tem  fails  in  producing  clergy  fittfd  to 
inflnence  the  time,  648;  Episrapal  reve- 
niiva,  465, 0£7;  disttlbation  of  l>i3hoprLC3, 
ti5J,fl5S;  ky  board  of  administration, 

l^DUE,  NoTELH  rnosi— Rome,  enconnge- 
mcnt  tc  commerce  small  iu,  4^9  ;  iil^ct 
of  ciianp'3  in  ministry,  Sfo :  difficulty  of 
dealing  with  brigiindoge,  500  ;  lioman 
water  supply,  500,  5Di  ;  death  of  Mr. 
John  Gihaon,  acnlptor,  SO2,  603. 

Hoyal  injunctions  aitd  proclamatioiiB,  their 
force  and  u»e,  12. 

"  SANCTtTARY  Common  Ssrvica  Book"  ro- 
viowcd,  510. 

SandetHon'a  "The  Creed  of  the  Church'" 
revlcweil,  363. 

Schools,  li'jjs  deponden^^c  on  aliilily  of  he;ad 
maaterin  '" great  srhoob  "  than  in  gram- 
mar schools,  S2  ;  mere  inl«llectua)  train- 
ing not  what  is  want«d,  84. 

Schools  for  Indian  natives  much  needed. 


670 


Th€  Contemporary  Review. 


138  ;  rtilivtfl  eager  for  iui^tnii.'tion,  13?  ; 

I'liKJAiib    CuulejunL-F,     138 ;    (.onvictiuD 

^iiiuiti;^'  gj tinnil  that  EuuliaSi  t^icnce,  art, 

iinil   liuMiture   are  divinely  intended  to 

j-rejiaie  wav  for  van  vers  ion,  HO. 
tk-i.tt,  S<-v.  'fiicimas,.  HayiriKK  t>l',  (flO,  (113. 
-'t^rsBtnr  and  Uliea,"  by  John  liiiskin,  re- 

vieliei],  17<!v 
fticiiOBifs  rtiuiuk  of  Mr,  81S. 
BpArlit,  itH  attraiitjutis,  ^&\  Mibtm  aban- 

dDuuil  fur  dUcieiLt  nite,  rud  the  codb«- 

queiici-x,    IrS. 
Si>nitl'!:i,  '(.'jiptaiii,  book  done  niiM-li  to  ac- 

^ujiut  Ecigliali  Willi  (.'icU,  fjiiiij,  b^l. 
StTHiiiu  ti'jects  Ekljhom's  cxgiliLLiatiot]  of 

niLraclvB,   ajid    tliuorjr    of    Pnuluw,   i76 ; 

defeeU    of    mi-tlik'nl    Iij potliesiB,    477  ; 

SirauBs's  influtuce  viis.t,   4;?  ;   hLis  iiu- 

G-lled  manj"  towsrda  Kftniantsm,  178; 
Hur'K.  iii'iiiiiricH  iiitrtiduiTd  u  elcw  ]>hai»e, 
1*2;  Hflur'n  KjBtom,  4S2,  484;  reBiilts 
ol  ui^rqitiiiK  StruuHs's  hy{iDtl;«Hi»,  1S7. 

fityx,  wnlti'fol!  of,  lis. 

Siiiiili;y  qncstioi],  llip,  its  onKin  and 
inIpo^l«l|]|;<^  \^'l,  148--,  Saliliaui  olilign- 
tiiMi  muat  Liut  nut  on  runBous  uf  geunrol 
tiii«lieTiey,  14<1;  Wbnt  ia  work  )  HU  ; 
I'atmrcW  SalilmLh,  148  ;  Bublmlh  of 
till' 1(1  w,  HB;  of  tbe  rirojiliels,  150;  uf 
tlic  snrilips,  Ifil  ;  of  ClirUt,  1B3  ;  of  flie 
a.tmstleB,  \hh ;  the  Ijord'a  <iuy^  IA7  ; 
Sabbulli  of  Iho  rcfuniiem,  159;  wliut 
th«    riiHtun    element   did    to  maiutniii 

Iiuiily  bf  EJiglUli  life,  IQl  ;  slricl  Sab- 
luth  (jliwrvauc(.>  bciJL-lluiiil  to  SeoLanien, 
lOk  ;  tt:^  Suiii!ny  lengnn,  ld2  ;  objeet'iciu 
to  Suudn}'  tis-tids  mttl  u|>ciiiii{^  of  galleiies, 
1G4;  dutii'^  of  iiiJiviilunlii,  ll>7. 
Syuubol,  ]>i>WEr  of  n,  74  ;  Hood  Shepherd 
eai'lk-iit  t'brifltiiui  Bjuibol,  JS, 

Txihe'h,  M.,  jwsiitiviiit  theory  of  tlic 
beautiful,    805;    his.  "n-i^iug  poraon* 

TDfliL.aiLLn^  L'ofle  of  bishopric  of,  338^. 

1'b«ulo<^icnl  iTainiii^,  aWiJce  of  eEcieiit, 
u,C  uiiivtreitits,  SIQ;  what  la  requirttd 
nf  candidates  fi>r  hvly  orilvru,  520,  S21, 
522:  Ireland  bnH  set  Wtter  cuinplfi, 
h'iZ  ;  {^uuacqueucea^fabejrotlce  of  regular 


tlieolngii^l  leBcLere  \a  Eiii:ljit>d,    511 ; 

medicine,  l&w,  and  divinity,  ner^r  btF^u 

on  eqartlity  with  artit,  S27,  oSfi  ;  nitBUs 

of  HUi>{ilyi]ig  defects  in  pbn,  52S,  532, 

593;  hppr  to  cvmbinv  ]irofv«iorial  and 

tuiui'ial  iiiKinictioii,  £31). 
Thirty-iiinc  ArticleH,  1  ec^-u i l>]ow  lo  autlio' 

rilj'  of,  of  no  coLiMiiueiju*,  54". 
Thriug'^,     Mr.,    i^ratiunaT-iii-hoDl     experi- 

lueiit  tnntUTnl  but  over  lAitjL'Uitie,    81  ; 

ita  ducc^ss,  &3  ;  vslite  nf  hia  book,  84. 
Time,  tbc  true  idea  of,  35  \  uiiiveiiml  coii- 

diliou  of  htiman  coiiNciouanrss  4S. 
Trollojw's  "  Hialory  of  Uonniioii wealth  uf 

FlotoDi-o"  reviewed,  S4B. 

"  U^(losnlTlw^El^,"  the,  aanctjoned  hy 
Plato,  31  ;  cuiitiiiDa  history  of  sneunla- 
tion  ill  niiiiisture,  32  ;  solution  of 
4luei>tion  of  imcunditioncd  eaay  wpre 
luitn  a  bcinjtrfif  iutellecl  alune,  34  :  tlio 
n  lie  Olid  itifiocd  nniat  be  eitsli-uceytr  w,, 
l^fi ;  i$  the  uH  gondii  ion  I'd  a  raert*  ah- 
BtroctJon,  orli&sit  a  leul  cxisteuce  1 1^^, 
lOR  ;  mu.'it  i\\A  out  of  relatioa  toenry^- 
thiiiBelup,  lite. 

Uuioi]  <if  llj«  tbuTclieB,  what  uwcawiTy  lo 
real,  SliS. 

UuitLuriauism  in  ^ev  Eijg]i)iid,  ahhomuce 
of  CalvioiHlic  iIci^trini^H  thnrael eristic  of, 
41&  ;  cli'nipi;  rciiri'Beittfd  by  <.'hiiiiniu|j, 
422;  in  what  all  L'liitiLiiaus.  a^ef.  \^i; 
Getmnti  criticism  iijlluiiui^s  AutL-riruii 
tIioiiji;lit,  42;] ;  a  Dew  ichr'o),  its  leading 
Bwrit,  Theodoru  Parlikr.  4dB. 

United  Slates,  Kpiscoj-al  Cliiirrh  of,  S40. 

Uiiiversitits,  ubiseni'o  of  tlUcienl  tlieolo- 
gical  iTaiiting  at,  h\^\  aid  mu&I  come 
tHiUj  lb*  biahofm,  623. 

"WATCiiW(im>&fiir  Lliu  Chriaiian  Year"  re- 
viewed, 3SI}. 

Witrbcr»rt,  dis,tiiiguiali«d  men  JirdiPTPrs  in, 
3'53,  373  ;  men  ceuaed  to  Itlicv*  in  it 
becuiUK  MVn  lu  bu  unieubuuabb',  344; 
couiiterjuirt  beliuf  iiiinrtuoinoof  chaims 
ftyS;  with  dculiiic  uf  it,  n-bf^iolis  IcntiT- 
is[|i,  %1%  \   l^LintaiiiBin  blauieohle,  374. 

Womld,  Basil,  remark  by,  612,  fllS. 
,   "  Work  and  I'rcrsjfcts"  reviewed,  IflB. 


J.  AMD  w.  Jimxit,  i-iLQirBKB,  tox:  ox.